Tachibana was always out to solve other people's problems.
And it wasn't that Hitonari wasn't grateful, but he wanted, desperately, to return the favor. He hated owing Akane so much of himself.
That's what he told himself when he stood with him, after spending the entire morning sneaking away from his mother and Yoshikawa, after fighting over whether they would do this at all.
Just when Hitonari thought he was finding the pattern in the strategic messiness of Akane's hair, Tachibana turned, eyes dark, and said: "Let's go."
None of the official ceremonies, none of the sentimental niceties.
It was only what was to be expected of him.
Hitonari knew what to watch for, the quiet sullenness, the off-tone irritibility, that would signal the slow decent into a bitter and vicious Tachibana for days, sometimes weeks.
He knew when to challenge his rival to a game, hit him on the head and insult him, invite him over for a scrounged dinner, entice him with a basketball game on tv to get him to stay over, where he could watch him a little longer.
He would take care of this boy, no matter what. He had a debt to repay.
The clouds have come out to play.