A/N: This fic is based off the official-ish Sengoku Basara Gakuen manga, where Mōri is the head of the Wind Instrument Club, and Chōsokabe is the leader of the school's biker gang. Other than a few details of my own that I threw in for fun (Tsuruhime appearance for example), I tried to stay fairly loyal to the manga.

The One Who's Waiting for You

Mōri Motonari withheld a sigh as he met the eyes of the bubbly girl who fidgeted across from him. Normally he abstained from speaking with other students outside the Wind Instrument Club, but this girl, along with Chōsokabe Motochika, made up the two exceptions.

"Motonari-kun! Ever since we were kids, you've always been brutally honest with me—sometimes too brutal—but still! I need to ask you something, and I need you to give me your honest opinion, okay?" Tsuruhime was a first year in Class Three, arguably one of the more popular girls, and also Mōri's childhood friend.

The sigh he had been trying so hard to hold back finally escaped his lips, and Mōri scowled. Him, Motochika and Tsuruhime had all grown up in the same small neighborhood, and like any other kids with nothing better to do, had gotten up to all kinds of mischief. Motochika was the one with the ideas, Mōri was the one who planned it all out to work smoothly, and Tsuruhime was the cute face that allowed them to pull it off. Although the three rarely associated with each other anymore—even if Mōri happened to be interested in people, he always kept himself busy with school, his club, and his part-time job; Motochika was the head of a biker gang; and Tsuruhime was often out with her female friends when she wasn't in Archery club—Mōri still felt enough loyalty to listen to Tsuruhime's request.

"Go ahead and ask your question," he responded, crossing his arms. Perhaps it was obligation rather than loyalty, but either way, whatever feeling it happened to be, it was fading quickly.

At his words, the overly excited girl leaned forward to the edge of her seat and peered at him with large brown eyes before asking in a worried voice: "Do you think I'm cute?"

The expression on Mōri's lips became what could only be described as a straight line, and he took a deep breath before responding. "If I were to be attracted to women—"

"Wh-Are you gay, Motonari-kun?" Tsuruhime's interruption made Mōri question why he had even bothered with her in the first place.

"…If I were to find human beings attractive…" Mōri continued, pausing for a moment to check if the girl who was wasting so much of his time with was following along.

"It's not just attractive, Motonari-kun! It has to be cute! If I'm not cute, I don't know if he'll like me!"

Of course this irritating matter all boiled down to the fact that Tsuruhime was not confident enough to talk to some boy that she had a crush on. Why Mōri had not guessed earlier was surprising. Further talk informed Mōri that the boy was from the Newspaper club, and was the quiet type—he always showed up to watch Tsuruhime's archery games, but never said anything to her directly. She wasn't sure if he was interested or not, despite the fact that he only showed up when she was up to shoot, and left after she was done. It was obvious to Mōri from the beginning that he must have some interest in her, and she prodded him with more questions upon hearing this.

"So is he just to quiet and shy to ask me out? Those guys are really cute—just like how Motochika-kun is too shy to ask you out and just picks fights with you instead—" Tsuruhime clamped her hands over her mouth with a terrified expression. "I mean-! Forget I said that, hahaha!" She laughed in a terribly awkward manner as Mōri stared.

The scowl on Mōri's face deepened, but the wheels in his mind were turning as Tsuruhime skittered off. A crush, huh? There were an endless number of ways that Mōri could use that to his advantage. He would have to remember that for the future.

School days passed, and Mōri failed to find a moment where he could hold Chōsokabe's silly crush over his head. Instead, he found himself preoccupied thinking about how Chōsokabe could even begin to waste his time with such feelings. Now, Mōri wasn't one to let his thoughts linger, especially when thinking of a punk who he considered to be more of an irritation than anything else, but he couldn't help but think of his old childhood friend between classes, or on his bike ride to school.

He was reminded of meMōries that he had long since pushed from his mind. Once they had been irrelevant, but now Mōri couldn't help but wonder. There was one afternoon when smaller versions of Mōri, Chōsokabe and Tsuruhime had all been playing together, and Chōsokabe had startled his other two playmates with a loud declaration.

"When I grow up, I'm gonna marry Motonari!"

The other two had simply stared at him until one expression changed to a pout, and the other a scoff.

"That's not fair, Motochika-Kun! You're suppose to marry me!" Tsuruhime glared at him with the biggest frown her tiny face could manage, offended that the most rambunctious of the three would be interested in another boy before her.

"Nope! It has to be Motonari! Right?" Motochika gave the smallest of the three children a little nudge with his elbow.

Mōri adjusted his glasses and responded in a very dignified manner. "Two men cannot get married, Motochika."

Chōsokabe pursed his lips with exasperation. "Why does that even matter? You're a girl, Motonari."

The fight that followed resulted with a shocked Chōsokabe declaring that he would marry Mōri whether he was a girl or not, Mōri downright refusing the proposition, and Tsuruhime being outraged that she was still being left out of the equation.

Thinking back, Mōri was glad that he rarely associated with those two idiots anymore.

Mōri watched rainwater overflow the gutter and pool onto the sidewalk with a forlorn look as he tried to avoid getting wet under the shelter for bikes next to his school. Thankfully he did not have work this afternoon, so he could afford to wait for the storm to pass, but he really wished to rain would let up already so that he could get home. What a waste of his time.

"Well if it isn't Mōri." The sudden voice startled Mōri, and he took a moment to turn around with the cool air of indifference to try and hide the fact that he had jumped slightly. The snicker that escaped from the intruder's mouth informed him that he had not been successful.

Chōsokabe Motochika stood not too far away, the light dusting of droplets on his hair and uniform suggesting that he had only recently come out into the rain to retrieve his motorcycle. "Afraid of a little water?" That tone and that smirk, tch, Mōri tightened his grip on his school bag and opened his mouth to retort when he noticed something off about Chōsokabe. The smirk may have been on his lips but Mōri certainly couldn't see it reflected in his lone eye. Further, he was carrying a helmet under his arm. There had never been a time when Mōri had known Chōsokabe to worry about safety.

"Hey Mōri." This time the tone of his voice was different—it lacked the sarcasm from before and instead almost seemed nervous. "Let me take you home on my bike."

Was this, a request? A request from the leader of the school's delinquents, the man who sought to bow his head to no one? Mōri's eyes narrowed as he looked from Chōsokabe's face to the bike helmet he was carrying. If he had any ounce of humanity, surely he would acknowledge that something was amiss with his fellow student and accept his offer without hesitation.

Mōri took a deep breath before giving his answer.

"Not interested."

Chōsokabe's posture sagged and he let out a groan. "C'mon, Mōri! You can get out of the rain faster, and I'll even lend you my super rad jacket to keep you dry!" He brandished the jacket that always hung over his shoulders with pride—it read "The Rampaging Demon of Onigashima" on the back along with various other overly dramatic kanji compounds that were intended to make him look tough. Mōri's nose scrunched when he spotted a place where the wrong kanji had been used. "I even brought a bike helmet just for you."

Between the puppy dog eye that Chōsokabe was giving him, and the helmet he had obviously gone out of his way to obtain, Mōri began to wonder just how premeditated this had been. Curiosities aside, Chōsokabe did not look like he was going to back down anytime soon, and Mōri didn't feel the sudden desire to waste the entire evening cornered under the bike shelter.

"Very well, but you are to relocate any and all activities that involve you revving your bike's engines afterschool to a place far from the Music Hall." He crossed his arms in a finalized manner, looking at Chōsokabe from over the top of his glasses.

"Alright," Chōsokabe replied with a curt nod.

Mōri froze, eyes widened in shock. His "rival" had not even paused to ask how long the conditions would last for. Mōri could have well set the limit to the end of the school year, and it seemed as if this delinquent would not even care. All that was left to do was accept the helmet with slightly shaky hands before stepping out from under the bike shelter. Something had made Chōsokabe serious, and Mōri, who rarely cared about anything but his own goals, could not help but wonder what.

The motorcycle ride was uncomfortable for Mōri, if only because of the close proximity to Chōsokabe. His legs and chest were pushed flush with the white haired man, and his arms had to be wrapped securely around the other's middle. At first Mōri had tried to hold onto the back of the motorcycle seat, and then Chōsokabe's shoulders, anything to keep a bit of distance, but to no avail. As soon as the bike started moving, his hands had gone for Chōsokabe's waist for fear of falling off.

They finally pulled to a stop in front of a small park that Mōri recalled playing in as a child. Despite it being early afternoon, the grey sky made it look like evening. The patter of rain droplets on the trees and the empty park was slightly comforting to Mōri—he knew that no one else would be out on a day like this.

"C'mon." Chōsokabe ushered the shorter of the two off the bike and up a trail further into the park.

Figuring it would be a waste of time to see what he had planned at this point, Mōri followed him up the trail in silence. How long had it been since he had allowed himself to be dragged along one of the delinquent's crazy adventures? Though he still looked at the biker jacket that walked in front of him with scrutiny, the silence between the two made everything seem so much more somber. Surely this was more than some scheme to make the perfectionist look like a fool. But what then was the goal? Taking a turn, Chōsokabe lead them off the path and through the mud to an oak tree that stood secluded on the top of a hill. Mōri lamented the fate of his loafers.

Despite being under a tree, enough water had dropped from leaf to leaf to make the ground into a sticky mud. Brushing a few drops off his uniform, Mōri looked over at the man who had brought him here. The two shared a silent look before Chōsokabe broke out into a smile. Such an action unnerved Mōri, simply because it seemed so genuine. Not a smirk, or a sardonic grin, but a genuine smile, which he followed up with leaning down in the mud on one knee, and digging for something in his pocket.

Mōri could feel himself pale. Th-this, this couldn't be what he thought it was. But sure enough, Chōsokabe dug a tiny black box out of his pocket, and opened it up to reveal a slim golden ring. He caught Mōri's brown eyes with a strong gaze from his own eye, and opened his mouth to ask.

"Mōri Motonari, will you marry me?"

The chill from the rain soaked into Mōri's flesh, and the stare from that one eye kept him rooted in one spot. All his life, he had never imagined that such a scene would occur. Surely Chōsokabe had promised some such nonsense long ago, but they had both been but children. After how far apart they had grown, and all their fighting, Mōri could not even fathom why Chōsokabe would ask a question like that now. And the ring looked like it was the real thing. He hadn't stolen it, had he?

"O-of course not," Mōri stammered as he adjusted his glasses in some attempt to hide his embarrassment.

"What about in the future, after we graduate?" Chōsokabe asked, undeterred.

"My answer remains no."

Chōsokabe stood up and gave one last glance toward the ring before pocketing it once more with a sigh. "That's too bad; you would have looked so beautiful in a wedding kimino."

Mōri bristled at this comment. "And who says that I would be the one wearing the kimono?"

"Oh c'mon," Chōsokabe was grinning again, though it hadn't lost that genuine look from before. "I think you would look really, really stunning in a woman's kimono. Your figure is perfect for it."

Mōri's face reddened slightly, and he decided to take a different tactic. "As if I would change my last name for you."

"But that would be perfect too! Then we would be Chōsokabe Motochika, and Chōsokabe Motonari. With only one kanji difference, we could be like a matching set." His grin was goofy, and Mōri couldn't help but be perplexed by how overjoyed Chōsokabe looked.

"What even brought this about anyway? It couldn't be because you suddenly remembered that promise you had made when we were children."

"Did I promise to marry you when we were kids?" Chōsokabe asked with a laugh, though he seemed to sober with Mōri's question. "I had completely forgotten about that actually."

"Then why waste my time with this?"

Scratching the back of his head, Chōsokabe looked away with his one eye. "It's a long story actually…"

Mōri simply crossed his arms and stared with his best glare. He would get to the bottom of this now so that he would not have to worry about it ever again.

"Alright, alright," He sighed again before launching into his story. "There was one night after that fight we had at the baseball game. I couldn't stop thinking about how much you had changed since we were kids. I mean, you've always been a bit of a prick, but somehow you had managed to become a Grade A asshole. Anyway, I was planning to follow you home and then play tricks on you when you were sleeping, but when you got home, all the lights were off. I was surprised because you didn't bother turning any of the lights on except your room. I waited and waited, and finally around one or two in the morning you turned your light off, but then before I could do anything I saw your old man come home. He was totally wasted, and didn't even bother turning on the lights either. Your mom came home not to long after that. I figured I had missed my chance, so I came back the next night, but the same thing happened.

"That's when I got to thinking, your parents were never home when you were a kid, were they? And you don't have any siblings like Tsuruhime and I have to look after you either. A lot of the kids at school think you're a prick because you were some spoiled rich kid, but I know differently. You grew up in the same shitty neighborhood as Tsuruhime and I, you just never had anyone to support you or look after you. When we all started to grow distant, you never made new friends, did you? You just kept coming back to a dark empty house day after day. When I was thinking about that it just crushed me on the inside. You deserved someone waiting for you at home just like the rest of us. So that's when I decided that I would become that person for you, Mōri. I want to be the person who's always waiting for you."

Mōri lay on his bed as the rain drizzled outside. The ride back from the park had been uncomfortable; Chōsokabe had poured his heart out to him and Mōri had been left dumbstruck. He never worried about the feelings of others, so when someone else started worrying so intensely about his feelings he just didn't know what to do. Someone waiting from him at home, eh? It seemed like it would just be another annoyance, really, but having never known such a thing, he couldn't help but be just a bit curious about what it would be like.

Wind Instrument Club's practice the next day went quietly and without a hitch, leaving Mōri to assume that Chōsokabe had kept his promise, at least for one day. After packing up his things, he headed out to where his bike was locked up, only to find a cheery delinquent waiting for him just outside.

"Hey Mōri," he greeted with a smile.

Mōri chose to simply ignore him and keep walking. Chōsokabe followed behind though, far enough away that he wouldn't get in Mōri's way, but close enough to chatter about some insignificant matters for the few minutes it took to get to the school's bike racks. He waited until Mōri had unlocked his bike before telling him a quick "Have a good day!" and waving as he headed off in a different direction. Mōri didn't watch him leave, but noted that he had managed to insert his presence into Mōri's life without disturbing his routine.

This happened the next day, and the day after. When it failed to happen on the Monday that followed, Mōri paused at the entrance of the Music Building to quickly glance back and forth for any sign of Chōsokabe before cursing himself for even expecting such a thing and hurrying to his bike.

The day following, Chōsokabe was waiting again. Mōri responded to his happy greeting with a quick glare before heading back towards the main school buildings and up towards the library. It was his day off again, and seeing as he had a test on Friday, he figured he could study while the school was still open. When he sat down at one of the tables in the library, Chōsokabe, who had followed him with a curious look, sat down beside him. At the sight of the pile of notebooks Mōri pulled out of his book bag, Chōsokabe yawned quietly and lay his head down on his arms in an attempt to take a nap.

When Chōsokabe finally picked up his head an hour later, Mōri was still hard at work. He didn't glance over as Chōsokabe stretched in his seat, or began rustling through his things. Nor did he appear to notice when his own stomach began to grumble. Hunger was something Mōri had long since learned to ignore, besides he rarely had time to pack himself a lunch and buying one was far too expensive. He did just fine on one or two meals a day.

"You hungry?" It seemed that Chōsokabe was not one to ignore a grumbling stomach though.

When Mōri failed to reply, his stomach spoke for him with further grumbling. The man sitting at his right snickered a little before digging around in his things once more to produce a rice ball. He set it down next to Mōri with the offer, "here."

Mōri ignored the rice ball and continued to look over his notes.

Frowning slightly, Chōsokabe pushed the rice ball closer to Mōri, and fixed him with a stare from his one big blue eye. When Mōri ignored this too, Chōsokabe picked up the rice ball and unwrapped it before setting it down directly in front of Mōri. He knew he was successful when Mōri sighed and set down his pencil. The first bite made the brunette frown.

"Just how much salt is on this? Really, Chōsokabe, your mother must have no taste buds."

"I made it myself actually. If you have any hopes of becoming a great strong Japanese man, you have to eat heartily! So I always pack lots of food for myself and enough to share with the rest of the boys." He seemed proud enough of his cooking skills.

Mōri replied with a "tch" but ate the rest of the rice ball slowly, his mind distracted by the thought of Chōsokabe making a mountain of rice balls. He wondered if the idiot ever started while the rice was still hot from the rice cooker and burned himself. It would be oddly cute, he thought.

When it was lunch time the next day, Chōsokabe appeared out of nowhere to deposit a neatly wrapped bento on Mōri's textbook covered desk. "Since you seem a little too stupid to feed yourself properly I figured I would do you a favor and make you something. Return the box and the furoshiki to me before tomorrow or I won't make you another." With that message, he turned on his heel and left Mōri to his typical solitude.

The bento was simple, with a layer of rice in the bottom container, and variety of small portions of food on the top. There was a tiny little cherry tomato, some daikon, a little bit of fruit, and what looked like two small balls of meat with some sort of sauce. Picking up the meat hesitantly with the chopsticks Chōsokabe provided, Mōri gave it a small look over before plopping it into his mouth. Regret was instantaneous and Mōri almost spit the meat out, instead going for his rice as quickly as possible. What kind of sauce was on this? It made the food impossibly spicy, and not even worth bothering with. Mōri was cautious with the rest of bento, but it seemed that the meat was the only thing that was dangerous. Aside from that though, Mōri had to admit, it hadn't been that bad.

Mōri exited the Music Building that afternoon with the bento in hand. He passed it to a waiting Chōsokabe. "I would avoid the sauce you used on the meat next time." Chōsokabe's only response was to grin; he knew that Mōri would be expecting more bento in the future.

A few weeks passed, and Chōsokabe managed to make a fresh bento for Mōri every single school day. Though he would occasionally sit at the empty desk next to Mōri and chat a little before handing over his handmade food, typical days consisted of him dropping the neatly wrapped parcel off without much more than a quick greeting and a huge smile. Little by little, Mōri was becoming accustomed to Chōsokabe in his life. Part of it was that the delinquent managed to be useful without being too much of a nuisance, and he never stayed for too long. But those brief encounters were more than enough for a very attention starved Mōri—he hated to admit it, but he started looking forward to those little interactions.

Mōri's stomach grumbled uncomfortably as the first lunch period where Choskabe failed to show up ended. He cursed him for leaving him hanging, and himself for becoming too dependent. His body could survive just fine without lunch, but now that it was accustomed to being fed, the long wait until school's end was uncomfortable.

He stalked out of his last class with an air of frustration, determined to get to Wind Instrument Club and get it over with so that he could go to work where he could hopefully get a snack. In this moment of frustration, he happened to see a figure huddled against one of the back walls of the school building. On a normal day, Mōri wouldn't have spared the stranger another glance, and on a day like today, when he was already irritated, he cursed the figure for stealing his attention, if only for a moment. That was, until he realized the figure was wearing a beaten purple jacket, and had silver hair. Chōsokabe looked like he had been under a lawnmower and then pummeled repeatedly with rocks—his lower lip and good eye were swelling, and there were bruises and scrapes all over. Mōri could even spot blood on his normally white shirt. Eye contact was made, and for a moment Mōri stood rooted in his spot, looking the silver haired boy up and down.

Then he turned on his heels, and left.

With a scowl now prominent on his features, Chōsokabe closed his good eye, and went back to resting against the brick building. Getting into fights was no big deal. He was frustrated that he had lost (it had been six against one) and even more frustrated that the fight had started just before lunch, making him miss his window of opportunity to interact with Mōri. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that the latter of the two had chosen to ignore his condition. Mōri did have his club to get to after all, and Chōsokabe decided he was foolish to think that he had started to soften the other, if even a little.

Chōsokabe wasn't one to lie around licking his wounds, but he knew his gang would demand names if they saw him in such a state and Chōsokabe didn't really want to start some sort of weird grudge war between his bunch and the other hooligans that wandered the school. Going home like this also meant a heavy scolding from his family. His mother would worry and fret, and his older brother would ask him how he could be so stupid to not bandage himself up. In the end, it was safest to chill here until the school emptied out. He would leave once most of his hang had gone home, and then ride around until it was late enough that he could sneak back into the house undetected. He shifted to a more comfortable position, and settled in for a long nap just before he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Worried that it was more idiots, Chōsokabe's one eye snapped open, only to realize the approaching figure was Mōri.

But even then, Mōri was a bit of a cause for alarm. What was he doing here when Chōsokabe knew quite distinctly that he was supposed to be directing the Wind Instrument Club? The shorter of the two crouched down and opened a first aid kit that Chōsokabe didn't remember him carrying before.

"You know I'm quite disappointed in you," he began as he picked through the box, looking for the disinfectant. "I didn't expect you to ever get beaten by anyone but me. What a shame."

"Hey, you can only beat me with music," Chōsokabe tried to chuckle but it only came out sounding pained as Mōri cleaned out his cuts. He wanted desperately to ask why Mōri was here and not at his club, but what if such a question would drive the other away? Instead he inquired about the first aid kit.

"This? Even fools should know that Akechi-Sensei keeps plenty of spares on the school infirmary," Mōri replied nonchalantly.

"W-whu, you braved going to such a place?" Chōsokabe paled at the mention of the school nurse; even a demon such as himself found the man disturbing.

A smirk appeared on Mōri's lips at the first sight of the injured man's fright, and he went on to explain that Mitsuhide was a fantastic doctor, and though he seemed delighted that Mōri had come seeking his aid, he seemed to lose all interest as soon as the student had told him that there was no blood at the scene. Chōsokabe noted his numerous cuts and the blood smeared on his shirt, and thanked the gods that Mōri was on his side.

Finally bandaged up, Chōsokabe stood with a grin. "Thanks for patching me up there, Mōri. I feel good as new."

Mōri faked distain. "It was not a favor. Instead, think of it as a loan, which I intend to collect in the future."

"Well let's hope it's far in the future, because I'm not going anywhere." Their gazes locked, and for that moment, Mōri swore that his heart stopped. Something about the way those words came out so genuinely and how bright his smile was. Mōri could tell that Chōsokabe was being playful, but even more so he was being honest. All it took was a single moment, and Mōri was left terrified. Terrified that this other man would continue to slowly dig his way to Mōri's heart, like a parasite, and nestle himself a home, leaving Mōri unable to push him away.