Disclaimer: Do. Not. Own.
Warnings: Nothing much right now, but it's going to get creepy soon. AU, drastically different course of events.
A/N: I think this is me spiraling away into madness.
When Sena was eight-years-old, he met a girl named Anezaki Mamori. She was a year older than he was and went to a different school, but lived nearby. He didn't have any idea why she came to sit next to him at the park, or why she paid so much attention to him when they saw each other while walking home, but it didn't matter. No one else talked to him, and he wanted not to be alone anymore so much that it didn't occur to him to be suspicious. Two weeks after she talked to him for the first time at the convenience store, Sena was calling her Mamo-nee and living for those few minutes after school and on the weekends when he could see her.
Then Agon told him, "Stop talking to that half-breed trash."
He didn't know how Agon had found out. "But..."
The glare he got in return made his eyes fill with tears even as it silenced him.
But he didn't stop talking to Mamo-nee. He couldn't. She was the only person who didn't ignore him, didn't shift uneasily away when he came too close. Everyone else who knew him wanted nothing to do with him, and Sena couldn't turn away the one person willing to reach out to him despite everything. He couldn't.
He didn't know why Mamo-nee seemed to be exempt from the effect of his family name, but he hoped she would never know better.
Later, when Sena was fourteen-years-old, Mamo-nee presented him with a handwritten study guide for Deimon Senior Private High School's entrance exam.
"I know you'll get in, Sena," she told him. "Your grades are good, and you've never been in trouble. I'll tutor you for the exam if you need it."
Sena looked at Mamo-nee, his closest and only friend for six years, even though they'd gone to different schools. He looked at the study guide in his hand, a stack of papers tied with red string and the words Go for it, Sena! written in red ink at the top.
He'd never wanted anything more in his life.
That night, Sena watched as Agon tore the study guide to pieces with two casual turns of his wrists and then tossed the ball of paper into the trash can. Unsui frowned, but said nothing.
"You've got two months," said Agon. "Unko-chan will tutor you. You don't get in, you answer to me. Got it, beggar?"
Sena looked at Unsui, but not because he expected Unsui to help him. He was looking at the application Unsui had in his hand, the application for Shinryuji Private Senior High School. Sena could see that the boxes had already been filled out.
Unsui wouldn't look at him.
"You hear me, beggar?" repeated Agon, and Sena was aware of danger leaning over him, of the hand on the back of his chair and the threat implied in the fist with the knuckles pressed flat on the table in front of him.
"Yes, oniisama," said Sena, and kept his eyes on the table when Agon's hand came down on his head, the fingers raking through his hair, an affectionate gesture that was painful enough that Sena had to bite his lip to stop himself from whimpering.