My dear friend slr2moons wanted some Kazuma/Kenji cuteness, and somehow instead I wrote this crazy thing for her. I was trying to make a sort of lead-in to some fic ideas of hers, but I don't know how well I did. Maybe soon she'll have time to write a fic far lovelier than mine and we'll find out! I do confess that the thing with the kittens is utterly my own fault. (Haha... I actually wrote this in the summer, but maybe it's just the thing to warm up someone's December!)

Obligatory author status note: I am taking fanfiction prompts for the month of December 2011. Link to the relevant livejournal entry can be seen in my profile.

Notes:

Tatami =Woven straw mats used in many traditional Japanese homes.

Senpai = Usually an upperclassman or mentor in your company, someone who is older/more experienced.

Text in italics = text messages.

What's your favorite season?

Kazuma had sent him the question a few weeks ago. Usually Kenji was the one asking questions, trying to get his friend to offer up more information than the abrupt messages he favored. He would get updates on what was happening with Kazuma's family sometimes, but when it came to himself Kazuma's messages were never particularly forthcoming. I won, after some fighting tournament in OZ. Or the occasional, I don't like this, in response to incidents that Kenji rarely received any details about.

Sometimes Kenji wanted to max out the character limit on message after message, as if to fill the silence that stretched between them even in cyberspace. Sometimes he tried to read between the lines. Once he even tried to convert the short messages into numbers, to see if he could solve them like some sort of code.

It wasn't like Kazuma never told him anything. There had been the spring he'd found a kitten in the rain on his way home. He'd kept Kenji updated on every little thing, starting with the completely unexpected request, Can I name him after you? Though the name didn't completely stick, since within a week messages referring to the new kitten were all, I keep waking up with Ken-Ken on my pillow, and, Ken-Ken's hiding under the bed again. I need a quieter keyboard. Kazuma maintained that the cuter name was his little sister's invention, but either way Kenji was glad to be saved from checking his messages after class and finding something like, Kenji crawled in my shirt to escape the vacuum and he tickles!

It only lasted a few weeks before they discovered that Kazuma's little sister was allergic to the new kitten. The news came in a series of five or six unusually abrupt messages, and before Kenji could even try to figure out something comforting to say back the last one had hit his inbox and stopped him cold.

I miss you.

It was the one time Kazuma had ever said, or typed, anything like that. Over time Kenji convinced himself that Kazuma had been talking about the kitten, not him, of course not him. . . but on that day all he'd thought to reply was, Come meet me on OZ.

Of course it wasn't him that Kazuma was missing. Kenji was on half the night waiting before King Kazuma appeared to greet his avatar. At that time, the only solution he'd had was that no one could be allergic to a virtual cat, and people spent so much of their lives on OZ that virtual pet stores didn't even register as an eccentricity anymore.

He'd been worried that Kazuma would be irritated at the replacement, or that he should have taken Kazuma to pick out his own pet rather than trying to find one himself. But even years later if you caught King Kazuma away from the battle-enabled parts of OZ it was usually with a ginger tabby kitten perched contentedly between his long ears, or tucked inside his vest.

Kenji had tried not to forget that a few short email messages were a lot coming from an introverted boy like Kazuma, even on days when they didn't talk about anything more personal than the weather. There had been the year when Kazuma's voice started changing, and he was so embarrassed he practically stopped speaking altogether, and Kenji hadn't even known about the silence until they met up that summer because the messages had kept coming as regularly as ever.

The year after that it was, I hate highschool, once a day, like clockwork. Kenji had been able to guess Kazuma was being bullied, but all he had been able to do about it from a distance was just try to keep Kazuma from withdrawing completely. It wasn't until later that he'd found out Kazuma had been in a fight, that he'd won, that he'd been in terrible trouble with his parents and his master and his school because he'd won, and that he'd been alternately shunned and harassed ever since.

It always seemed like months later that Kenji ever found out what was really happening, and this time probably wouldn't be any different.

What's your favorite season? Kazuma had asked him.

Summer. The answer was obvious after the full, lively summers when he had been able to go out and meet with the family that had somehow taken him in as one of their own.

What's your favorite part of summer?

There were too many things to pick just one, weren't there? Too many traditions, too many memories that Kenji loved. Everyone eating together, loud in a comfortable way that Kenji missed with a tangible ache when he was back home, alone. There were fireworks, the younger cousins yelling and laughing with delight, Kazuma carefully putting his hands over his baby sister's hands, so she could have her own sparkler without any risk. There were the hours playing cards, Natsuki laughing at him because he was still just so bad at it, having her tease him because he was reluctant to bet when they both knew she would always win.

Or one moment of memory; Natsuki with a watermelon seed stuck to her cheek, brushing it away for her and the feeling of his face going so hot because he hadn't been thinking at all. And she had let it go, picking up the conversation and leaving the gesture behind. In a strange way that moment was precious to him, because he'd realized then that they didn't fit, not in that way, and what had been an awkward struggle to make it so finally relaxed into comfortable friendship.

There were the mornings where he woke up early enough to catch Kazuma practicing Shorinji Kempo in the back garden, often without shirt or shoes in the not-yet-dawn light. Every movement was always so calm, so smooth, made elegant with control.

And then, just after Kazuma came to the proper end of his exercises, the spell would be broken by another morning ritual as his mother would scold him to come in and eat breakfast. It wasn't healthy to skip breakfast, it wouldn't make him late for school today, she had already set his place. Kenji was pretty sure he had heard all the arguments by now.

The first time Kazuma looked up after his practice and caught Kenji watching he had gone red in the face and run away. Kenji hadn't seen him at breakfast, or at lunch, or indeed until he'd gone out of his way to find the younger boy and try to apologize, and Kazuma had told him it was nothing like he was an idiot for being worried. So Kenji had kept watching, but even now there was sometimes a little start, the first hint of a blush, when Kazuma looked up and saw him there, but now more often than not Kazuma would follow him to breakfast, even if he only picked at the food in silence.

There was the noise and the bustle and the feeling of somehow being accepted as a small part of such a large family, and Kenji loved those moments of summer. And then there were the hours with just the two of them in the dim, closet-like room Kazuma had claimed as his own, with just the hum of computer fans and the noises of other people in other parts of the house seeming so far away, and Kenji loved that just as much. Not that he could admit that, text message or not.

Kenji had been too embarrassed to answer that question.

What about you? What's your favorite?

I asked first. It didn't matter what the arena was. Kazuma was too quick to let him dodge.

I'll tell you later.

Kenji had thought he might have dodged the question after all, but after a week Kazuma asked again. The question itself wasn't a big deal, but it was strange for him to keep asking and Kenji had no idea why Kazuma had fixated on it. Why is summer your favorite? What do you like about summer? Is summer always the best? Until Kenji's, I'll tell you later, slipped and became, I'll tell you when I see you.

Every time Kazuma asked he kept thinking of more and more things he loved about the summer, but there was only one problem. Kenji caught himself thinking of things like eating ice cream together, watching for the subtle flash of teeth because Kazuma kept biting the treat. Or watching Kazuma's concentration in person while he was competing in OZ. Or the times when Kazuma was sleepy with the heat and he would fan the quiet boy with stray papers to make his bangs flip up out of his eyes for a second at a time.

Not to mention that summer was the time when he finally learned the things Kazuma wouldn't tell him outright, the time when he could really try to reach out and help, impertinent as it might be. It was summer when he told Kazuma he would never get used to his changing voice if he didn't talk, and listened patiently through the night, letting Kazuma talk when no one else would hear. It was summer when he finally found out about the bullying, when it became clear that Kazuma's self control was too good, that he was holding himself together so hard he might just shut down. The short span of summer vacation wasn't enough for Kenji to fix anything, but at least he'd had a better idea where he was standing as he tried to support Kazuma through text and virtual meetings.

Kenji belatedly realized he should have answered the first time. Saying his favorite part was seeing everyone was embarrassing enough. After a while thoughts piled up until the idea snapped into his mind that it was Kazuma. That maybe his favorite part was just Kazuma. And once it was in his head he couldn't shake the feeling that Kazuma would know he was lying if he said anything else.

If he was going to try making excuses he should have tried to do it in text, but it was too late now. Two days into their vacation and Kazuma hadn't confronted him yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Unable to keep away in spite of his nervousness, Kenji had gotten permission to join Kazuma in the closet-like room where he always stayed. It was the only place Kenji could seem to sit down and actually get a little work done. Soon enough the atmosphere was as comfortable as it had ever been. There were no uncomfortable questions, just the feeling that this was where he belonged.

Kenji had actually fallen asleep there, next to Kazuma in the narrow space. He woke slowly in the evening, thinking about summer, about Kazuma, about Kazuma's persistent questions about summer. He was too comfortable to move at first, even to open his eyes. There was just the feeling of smooth, woven tatami under him, the smell of a mosquito coil burning somewhere, the endless noises of cicadas in the summer heat.

A faint breeze against his face wasn't unwelcome, but it ended with the feeling of fingers brushing his cheek. Kenji's eyes snapped open to find Kazuma's hand hovering over him. It must have been an accidental touch, Kazuma waving flies away from his face or something, but it seemed to take a long time for Kazuma to withdraw his hand.

Kazuma wasn't looking at him, apparently caught up in silent contemplation of the screen saver on his computer. Kenji studied the other boy for a moment, with just the light from the computer screen flickering over him. Kazuma had grown into his avatar until he was all wiry, lean muscle. His strength showed in the way he held himself more than any hint of solid bulk. At the same time he was still completely recognizable as the boy Kenji had first met. His bangs still hung in his face for him to hide behind, and even after years his mouth was still set in that same quietly stubborn expression, not quite a frown but so rarely allowing anything close to a smile.

Kenji's phone beeped at him, and when Kazuma didn't so much as twitch at the sound, he took the chance to stop staring before he could be caught and check what new message he had.

It was from Kazuma. Kenji looked up curiously, and when Kazuma still didn't stir, he opened the message.

If you don't want to answer me you should say so.

Kazuma was still pretending not to notice him, so Kenji sent another text back in response. I'll tell you if you answer something first.

The little chime of incoming mail on Kazuma's computer made him finally look around, then back to his computer as he deactivated the screen saver and typed furiously for a few seconds.

Don't mail me when I'm right here!

Kenji tried to hide his laugh behind his phone, because Kazuma had started it. He was just playing along.

I'm going to ask anyway. Why is it bothering you so much? Do you hate summer?

Kazuma didn't answer, hands folded stubbornly on his lap, and Kenji sighed to himself. The fact that Kazuma was so insistent on it had worried him a little already, but now he could see the subject really was a sore point, for whatever reason.

"I wish I could see you more often. I never know when something's wrong," Kenji said, talking to himself without expecting to break through the hurt silence radiating from Kazuma.

To his surprise it was only a few heartbeats before Kazuma started typing again, answering his question.

A girl at my school is acting like you. She's asking me questions all the time. Like what's my favorite animal, or my favorite foods. Which season do I like best. So I was thinking about it. That's all.

The 'acting like you' comment made Kenji's face heat. He was just trying to be friendly, but a girl might have something different in mind. Not that he could blame her with the way Kazuma was, the untouchable yet perfectly controlled mystery he presented.

Kenji tried to sit up and found himself feeling light-headed from the sudden change in position. He swayed and fell against Kazuma for a second until the world could right itself. He found himself with his cheek pressed into the warm, bare skin of Kazuma's shoulder, his hand at Kazuma's elbow for balance, and his first instinct was to pull away and apologize.

And then Kazuma's other hand reached around to touch his opposite cheek, encouraging him to stay where he was. The arm he rested against was rock-hard with tensed muscle, but the touch of Kazuma's hand was soft. Nervousness and hope. Kenji could certainly relate.

"I like summer best too," Kazuma answered, and he didn't ask again for any reasons. It was all far too generous, and left Kenji feeling as if he'd been found out.

Kenji couldn't say it and leave the words in the air for anyone to hear. He couldn't send it and put the words somewhere they could be kept forever. He fumbled for his phone again and keyed in a few words before holding them up for Kazuma to see.

I like summer, because it's the only time I can see you.

He couldn't tell If Kazuma read the message with Kazuma hiding behind his hair like he always did. After a few seconds he lost his nerve and started to delete the message, only to have Kazuma's hand grab his, lightning-fast, trapping both hand and phone against the tatami.

Kazuma was breathing hard, his fingers digging into Kenji's hand until they were almost painful.

All Kenji could think was that Kazuma must be horribly upset and angry. He tried to get away, to give Kazuma space, but the next thing he knew Kazuma's arm was at his back and he was being pulled forward, having to brace one hand on Kazuma's thigh just to keep from falling across his lap. Kazuma's face ended up pressed into his chest.

Trapped in his awkward position, halfway in Kazuma's lap, Kenji had no idea what he was supposed to do. He couldn't escape. Kazuma still hadn't quite caught up with him in height, but he was undoubtedly stronger and the arm at Kenji's back definitely wasn't budging any time soon. Yet Kazuma usually resented any attempt to coddle or comfort him. The only thing that ever seemed to work was giving him something else to focus on, but Kenji couldn't think of anything.

"I. . . um. . . it's just. . ." he tried, unable to find the words he needed. He felt Kazuma's arm tighten around him, until Kazuma was grabbing a handful of his shirt and pressing his face so close Kenji could feel him breathing. "I'm sorry. I just meant-"

"Don't take so long to say something that important! How many times were you planning to make me ask?"

". . . oh." Kenji felt like an idiot. He gave in, letting himself rest in Kazuma's lap so he could free one hand, and reached up to cup the back of Kazuma's head and neck. "I'm sorry."

For a few minutes Kazuma just held on to him in silence. Kenji draped his free arm around Kazuma's shoulders and let his cheek rest on the top of Kazuma's head, trying to at least show Kazuma everything was okay by returning the hug.

"Will you be my tutor?" Kazuma asked to finally break the silence.

"Huh?"

"You made me wait a long time to ask, but you're the only one I'd want to help me study. I want to go to your university."

"Hah. . . ?" Kenji tried to pull back enough to see Kazuma's face, but it was still hidden. He didn't think Kazuma would make fun of him.

"May I call you 'senpai'?"

Kazuma was not supposed to be this cute. He'd always had a sincere, childlike stubbornness that Kenji couldn't think of as anything but cute (that was one secret he intended to take to his grave), but the breathy, hopeful way he said 'senpai' made Kenji's heart pound.

"L-let's focus on one thing at a time, okay?" Kenji hedged. He couldn't say no. He'd be insane to say no. It was just that he needed his heart to stop trying to hammer its way up into his throat before he could say yes.

Kazuma nodded, and didn't comment when Kenji's sigh of relief ruffled his hair. Whatever came next, it was enough to know right now that Kazuma wasn't hurt or upset or unhappy, even if it didn't seem like he would let go any time soon. Kenji found he didn't exactly mind.

He would definitely feel too awkward to meet Kazuma's eyes over the dinner table tonight. He probably wouldn't have the courage to watch in the morning when Kazuma practiced in the pre-dawn stillness. He might not even be able to find his voice long enough to ask permission to join Kazuma in his little personal space tomorrow. For right now it was enough that he had finally answered Kazuma's question honestly. It was enough to be together in that little space that suddenly felt completely silent and private, in spite of all of the noises of summer echoing just outside.