"If the only way you can fit in with your friends is by doing bad things, you need some new friends." Unknown (Tewaku)

"I may be quiet, but I have so much on my mind." Unknown (Tokusa)

"Sometimes the best way to stop a problem is to stop participating in the problem." Jonathan Mead (Both)


"Why are you doing this?" Tewaku couldn't even find the energy to wince at how teary her voice sounded. She'd always been a bit of a crybaby, but she hadn't had much to cry about in the last few years.

Link's expression never changed, but he did appear to her to be standing closer than before. When did he do that?

"Because I care about my friends." He answered, without hesitation.

Tewaku felt her tearful eyes widen. For some reason, the words struck her. Link had always been the blunt type, making him a standout in their group. He was able to leave people struck silent by the straight honesty of just a simple sentence, but never could she remember ever hearing him admit to caring about anyone or, really, anything. It was a first for him.

She'd always hoped he'd cared, but . . . "Since when?" Tewaku couldn't stop herself from asking, not that she would have stopped herself if she had had the ability to do so.

"Since the beginning. Since I met you and Allen. Friendship, at times, can be inconvenient, but not . . . unpleasant. Look, I may not be as loud as you, or as talkative as Allen, or as ingratiating as Tokusa, but I care about my friends."

No stronger truth had ever been spoken, Tewaku could feel it and it left her gasping.

"Why do you stay on the sidelines of our group outings, then? Why don't you . . . Why don't you . . .?" She drew off.

"Act like you?" Tokusa finished, leveling her with a look. That wasn't what she was going to say, but she found herself unable to correct him. "People not acting like you expect them to doesn't mean there's anything wrong with them. I've been meaning to tell you that for a while." Link said, sternly.

"I know that!" Tewaku hissed, defensively.

"Do you?" Link shot back at her. "You're naturally very judgemental, Tewaku. I know you know that." Tewaku looked to the side huffily and didn't answer, so Link continued. "It's not your fault, it's where and how you grew up that makes you more judgemental so naturally. It blinds you, though. I must admit, however, that I'm blind, too."

This strange admission caused Tewaku's head to snap up and stare at her friend. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"Kanda." Link started, looking towards the couple. "That is his name, isn't it? Allen clearly sees something in him that we do not and perhaps . . . Mr. Kanda also sees something in Allen that we can't see."

Tewaku's eyes flicked around wildly, as they did when she was thinking about a lot of things at once. "Why can't we see whatever in Allen?" Tewaku ultimately settled on. "We're his friends?"

"And what have we bothered to really get to know about him?" Link interrupted.

Tewaku opened her mouth to refute his words, but closed it without saying anything as she stopped to think. "I know he likes to read." Her tone came out weaker than she'd probably intended, a true representation of what's going on in her mind. "I know he does schoolwork when he's stressed out . . ."

"And that's about it." Link said what she could not bring herself to. Tewaku didn't respond. "What about you?" Link asked, shifting ever closer to his friend. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think, from your actions, that you hate Allen, but I know you don't. Why are you doing this for Tokusa? I know you're doing this for him." Link insisted.

"I-" Tewaku started, stopped, and started again. "I didn't want Allen to leave the group. I was afraid of it. Still am, really. I think he knew that and used it to get me to the side against Allen, though I didn't see it that way to the time."

There was a silence that descended on the two, heavy and morose. "What do we know?" Tewaku asked quietly, sounding lost.

Link took a moment before answering. "What we all should have done a long time ago. Maybe it's time we break away from Tokusa and the others, people who don't value us as individuals."

"But then who would we have?" Tewaku asked as her eyes teared up in response to her distress. They both knew she was talking more for herself, as Link had a much less dependant personality, but neither mentioned it.

"We can stick together, I have no interest in ceasing our friendship." He cast a look over in Allen's direction. "And I have a feeling that Allen will stick with us if we show ourselves to be accepting and supportive of him. I have a feeling that's something that's been severely missing in our relationship thus far."

It made sense, Tewaku knew. If their other friends were being bad influences on them or at least not helping matters, as it was becoming readily apparent through their talk, her rational mind told her that the best idea would be to extract herself from their influence, but . . . but . . .

Change was scary. Change brought the unknown. What she would essentially be doing is putting all her eggs on one basket, throwing her lot in with her two friends and all but abandoning the rest.

Could she do that? What if they let her down? Even if they didn't intend to at the moment, it didn't mean that they wouldn't later, anyway.

She was scared.

But . . . as she gazed at Link, who was unobtrusively waiting to see what she had to say, while simultaneously looking the most sincere she had ever seen him. She looked to Allen, laying there curled around his special someone, practically radiating happiness.

Maybe . . . maybe there was really only one choice she would regret making.

She turned to Link with a long missing steel in her eyes. "How do we do this?" If she hadn't known her friend so long, she might have missed the light release of tension in his shoulders at her words, but she didn't.

She could do this, Tewaku decided.

She could and she would.

Tokusa glared down at his phone. He'd been expecting a call from Tewaku.

She didn't exactly say she'd call him when she was done doing whatever it was she was doing, but he'd nonetheless expected it. Tokusa was comfortable enough in his knowledge of his friend's attitudes and behaviors that he could basically predict ahead of time exactly how they're going to react to something. He had security, knowing that he knew them best.

Allen was proving to be an uncomfortable thorn in his side, but the behavior wasn't completely unexpected from his old friend. Even when they met back in high school, Allen had his own way of thinking and a downright iron backbone. That's why he enlisted Tewaku's help in getting Allen back in line.

His previous attempts to get Allen back into the fold were successful for a time, but ultimately proved to be bandit fixes and now Allen would be more suspicious about the things he'd said. He'd needed a surer plan, so he called Tewaku and fed her whatever lines he knew she would buy. He made sure she knew that Allen was pulling away from them and laid all the blame for the (to her) jarring information squarely on his budding relationship with that . . . charity case.

As well as that, he expressed his concerns that the two men were heading for heartbreak, their differences too great, and that the inevitable fallout would break them both. In reality, he didn't know anything about their relationship, certainly not enough to make a judgement about whether they're destined to fail or not, but he didn't need to bring that up without prompting.

She shared his worries most emphatically. Since then, she'd been trying to fix the problems created by Allen. She'd made a habit of notifying him before and after she interfered with Allen's relationship and that was why he was currently waiting for her call. And waiting. Last time she called, she told him she'd spied on Allen's phone and planned to follow Allen on his date.

He didn't see a problem with that. As his father had taught him growing up, there is nothing more important than advancement. Nothing. Allen could get over his broken relationship, he had them and Tokusa would be the first to network for a suitable match for Allen when his friend was ready to date again. Perfectly supportive.

However, the fact that Tewaku hadn't yet called him to say she'd finished her task was worrying. Either she was taking longer than expected to do whatever or he'd misjudged her and she wasn't going to call him. He would cling to the first idea for a while, because the second was far more worrying.

Hopefully, whatever she was doing would drive the wedge they wanted between Allen and his boyfriend. Hopefully.