A/N: Hey! Just a reminder! This is today's (Saturday's) chapter, make sure you've read Tuesday's chapter (28) before you proceed. Or else you won't understand why Naoi does what he does at the end of this one.

Posting this a little early because I have to go on an errand. Enjoy!


[Chapter 29]: One Step Closer (Part II)


The weekend dragged dreadfully, with Kimito assigning him long hours at the store and yelling threats at him for the slightest hint of backtalk in the studio ("Your grandfather would throttle you if you talked to him like that" was an old but popular one).

Then Monday came, and it brought November with it. The majority of Akuma's trees were not only ablaze with red foliage but also molting, making two of the tree-danglers visible from the branches as they stared down in judgment at their friends pelting handfuls of leaves at each other. Gaggles of schoolgirls happily formed almost impenetrable walls near the school doors as they talked about the school festival. Inside, students were already putting up signs and decorations on the walls.

The escalating hype from classmates also meant increased interest in the play. So this week, Ayato found his elbow being bumped on the regular by a number of students who milled around Ami's desk asking her how it was going. He really didn't need to know how many of them had crushes on some boy named Matsumoto. Nor did he care about their mild disappointment that he was mostly getting speaking roles.

Ami preened at the attention, hushing Kurimu and Hejjiguchi so she could bask and answer questions. She said she could maybe do some last-minute costume alterations with the help of her co-designer. Nearer to the front, Masuda chuckled nervously and muttered a bashful confirmation.

A couple of their classmates asked about Yuri, which he couldn't help overhearing.

"Shiruba told me that Horigoshi told him that Yuri Nakamura joined drama club a while ago," burbled Takamori, a lavender-haired girl who sat on the other side of the classroom. She looked very impressed for some reason. "Is she in the play too?"

"I heard she's got the second biggest part," said her friend, a short and hyper brunette named Marina. "I heard she wears wings and sings a solo. Tomoki says—"

"Whoa!" said Ami, laughing. "Somebody wears wings in one scene. Yuri's doing tech and understudying for Jinko's and Horigoshi's parts."

"Both of them?" Marina said, suddenly thoughtful. "What if they both get sick?"

Ami looked badly upset, making an odd little squawking noise at the back of her throat as she wilted in her chair.

"If you looked closely, you could see when her soul departed her body," Hejjiguchi said with a laugh.

Kurimu squeaked out a laugh too, then clapped a hand over her mouth and cut it short with a shameful cough. "It's the last week before the performance," she told the girls importantly. "She's keeping away any and all negative energy."

"Huh!" Ami sniffed, as if having heard a bad joke. She shook a tiny magic 8-ball and pretended to be very interested in it.

She started making a lot more of those unimpressed sounds after that. Not towards her little visitors, but her two lackeys. She snapped at Hejjiguchi when he said anything crabby. On Tuesday she brought in a small pink spray bottle and used it on him like he was a cat. She brought in some sort of fairy wand prop and bopped Kurimu on the head with it. Both of them squealed like baby boars whenever they incurred her wrath. It was quite interesting, to say the least.

She had just about reached her limit, it seemed. He was almost impressed.

In fact, right around lunchtime she made this very clear. As Hejjiguchi was starting to get up and head toward the door with them, Ami poked her pink fairy wand into his chest and pushed him back towards his seat with it.

"Uh-uh-uh, mister," she said. "You're staying right here."

Hejjiguchi, who'd raised his hands into the air in surrender when the spray bottle came back out as well, crinkled his brow at her. "Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, starting today lunch is a girls-only affair," Ami told him. She looked over her shoulder at Masuda as he was leaving, to see if he'd heard. Which was unnecessary, because he'd already told the girls yesterday that he would be eating lunch with his roommate Hachihama this week. Ami had pouted gracelessly about it so Ayato had called her out at the time ("Don't be so needy, Kawata, your friends can hang out with other people"). But then she'd countered with "You're right – and with my friends, they usually come back," which had stung him into a resentful silence.

Now, Hejjiguchi looked just as affronted.

"So you're banishing me?" he said, crossing his arms. He eyed her warily as she set her weapons on her desk. "What for?"

"For the last couple of weeks, you haven't been acting like yourself at all." Ami frowned severely at him, arms akimbo. "You've been nothing but a grump and a jerk, especially to Kurimu!"

"I—"

Ami held up a finger to interrupt him. "Now I don't know what started this silly ongoing tiff between the two of you, but I'm pretty sure I know who started it." She put a hand on Kurimu's shoulder. "Souma-kun, I care about you a lot. But Kurimu is my best friend. Until you stop being a pain in the butt, you're not welcome to sit with us!"

He gaped at her, pulling an unattractively aggrieved face.

"If I'm not welcome to sit with you, guess I'm not welcome to go to your big play either," he said, in a bit of a snit Ayato might add.

"Guess so," Ami said back just as crossly. Hejjiguchi went absolutely bug-eyed. "I warned you! Drop the attitude, Souma Hejjiguchi – you're acting like Garfield on a Monday."

Hejjiguchi gasped more indignantly, plopping down in his chair. Kurimu looked just as stunned as Ami linked arms with her and started leading her out the door.

Now, of course, Ayato had found this whole encounter wildly entertaining. But as the girls were going to leave, it occurred to him presently that they were in fact leaving Hejjiguchi in the room with him. He'd started having lunch in the classroom last Thursday, when the world began to get too cold for the club room's pleasant window breeze. He was already accustomed to having this one period in the classroom without them and he didn't want that taken away.

"I thought I told you not to leave me alone to babysit!" he said darkly.

Ami briefly glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Big babies eat lunch in timeout together where they belong," she said curtly. Then she closed the door behind her.

Hejjiguchi and Ayato exchanged similar glances of shock and dismay. Frowning, they turned their backs to each other and stared at opposite walls.


Ayato ate his lunch. He took out a book and tried to study.

Hejjiguchi stuffed his earbuds in his ears and listened to loud music, which was – good. Not the loud part, he was still waiting for the day the fool's eardrums became irreparable, but at least that might keep him silent and occupied. If it meant hearing muffled guitar wails instead of undignified grousing and griping, then by all means Ayato was all for it.

But after one or two songs, because this was a stupid thing to hope for, Hejjiguchi paused his music player and opened his mouth.

"This is kind of your fault, ya know," he said.

Ayato sighed, already bored. "You're still going on about that?"

"Well if you hadn't pulled your little matchmaker trick, none of this would've happened!" he said desolately. "I mean, Kurimu's mad at me and now Ami's mad at me because Kurimu's mad at me…"

How tragic. Ayato rolled his eyes and tried to eat his food louder.

"—and I just, I'm not trying to be the bad guy or anything. I'm just being realistic! And Kurimu's so smart, she's usually so easy to talk to, but with this, she's being so stubborn. She doesn't get it, why doesn't she get it?"

Was that a rhetorical question? God, he hoped it was. Surely the idiot didn't expect quality relationship counseling from him. No, of course not, he was listening to this drivel for free.

The best way to describe the lunch period Ayato endured after that? Essentially: an analog clock ticking past the minutes, Ayato eating and studying while Hejjiguchi ranted and raved and shifted into various weird lazy positions behind him. Occasionally he got up to pace around the room, making grand swooping gestures as he lamented his ex-girlfriend's endearing fondness for fairytale romance and cute love tropes.

"—and how cute can something be if it's, what? Forced? Simulated? Artificial!" Hejjiguchi cried, waving his arms like an inflatable tube man. "Schemed and scripted! No good thing should start on a lie!"

You must really hate surprise parties, Ayato thought absently. He turned a page in his book.

"I just – that's all this was, wasn't it? A bunch of manipulation and lies," he said in a great depression, sitting on the edge of an empty desk. "Started on a lie. Relied on 'em. Having to sneak around all the time so Ami wouldn't find out, getting Yuri in on it as a diversion tactic. I mean, geez! I don't think relationships are supposed to take that much work…"

Ayato watched out of the corner of his eye as Hejjiguchi draped himself over the tops of two desks like a weary bag of mulch. This guy was so goddamn dramatic he could give Kawata a run for her money.

"—and, I mean, yeah, we were making it work! But then Yuri had to drop that bombshell on me, and tell me it was staged. So it shouldn't have even started in the first place…"

"But you knew about that," Ayato said before he could stop himself. He remembered now, and actually felt rather indignant after hearing all this bullshit. "You knew it was a little staged. Yuri came to you and told you that—"

"That's different!" Hejjiguchi hollered guiltily. "I wasn't trying to trick Kurimu or anything. I was just helping because I thought Yuri wanted you. And – and I didn't like the idea of you being alone with Kurimu in the woods."

Ayato frowned, quietly resenting what was unspoken there. Never mind the fact that it was apparently just fine to help push him and Yuri together!

"But – aw man, that's the other thing." Hejjiguchi ran his hands through his hair, then raked them down his face with a frustrated groan. "What if I only thought I liked her just 'cause I was worried about her being with you? What if—"

And that was when Ayato tuned out for the remainder of the lunch period, ears ringing. He wouldn't be surprised if they'd bled, or if he'd possibly blacked out for six minutes. Because forget Kimito's pottery shop during festival season – this was a whole new level of hell.

So that had been Tuesday, with Ami and Kurimu and everyone finally coming back to the room and Hejjiguchi mercifully going into a mournful silence when he saw the girls. Ami rolled her eyes and muttered to Kurimu that he was being a baby. They chattered to Masuda about lighting and speakers until he had to go back to his seat. Notes were passed. Sad sighs were heard.

School went on.

Kimito had him come into work an hour after he got home. He did some ceramic painting in the back room before his shift, which wasn't so bad. Except he frowned suspiciously when Ayato opened a new can of green paint. And, well… he felt like breaking something after that.

He almost did, actually. Bumping into a shelf corner and knocking a plate off-balance when his thoughts were too much for him. Kimito's reflexes kicked in quick enough to catch it before it hit the floor, saving it with one hand and using the other to cuff him over the head. He screamed at him for a while after that. Ayato muttered apologies and kept working.

When Kimito sent him home, he found his mother baking again and decided to help her out on a whim. It wasn't a peace offering or anything. It just gave him something to do, and it felt kind of good to learn to do something without being chastised at every turn.

But then, ever-so-companionably, she asked him how Yuri was doing. So he went upstairs and finished his homework.


"—not like I'm not tired of all the fighting either! I don't know why I'm like this, I don't like that I'm like this—"

Ayato closed his eyes, leaning his head over the back of his chair and rubbing at his temples. Would this madness ever end?

It was Wednesday, and despite his prayers and some almost amicable interactions witnessed before class, girls' lunch once again had gone into effect. So now lucky Ayato was sitting through another repeat performance from Hejjiguchi.

The rambling was borderline manic. It had been going on for seven minutes already. Ayato had learned far more about Hejjiguchi's deep-seated relationship phobia than he cared to know. In that the percentage was greater than zero. If the idiot went on one more dramatic spiel about the entire relationship being fake, he was going to lose his entire mind.

"—and am I really making a big deal over nothing?" Yes, Ayato thought privately to himself. "I don't think so, but Kurimu keeps saying, 'oh, what should it matter?' Kurimu says—"

More infernal prattling. And then, then pacing! Getting up from his desk every thirty seconds to practically sprint around the room, making Ayato dizzy with rapid-fire gestures and witless words. Something about Kurimu telling him that this one detail shouldn't ruin a good thing.

Was that Key coffee he was drinking? Good God!

"—but what am I supposed to believe? Don't think I can even trust my own feelings here!" Hejjiguchi said, dropping into not his seat but Kurimu's like a sad sack. "I mean, it was all… fabricated. All of it was fabricated!"

"For God's sake, will you SHUT UP?!" Ayato roared, slamming his hands on his desk and spinning around.

Hejjiguchi blinked at him, looking extremely cowed and then defensive. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ayato cut him off.

"It was all you, you complete and utter imbecile!" he said, gripping the back of his seat in irritation. "We could see you cared about each other – your jealousy was so annoying. All we did was set the mood!"

For a blissful moment, Hejjiguchi gaped at him soundlessly like a mindless catfish. Struggling through his brain cells for a rebuttal.

"Environment is everything," he said finally, but firmly. "That bridge could make anyone fall in love."

Ayato rolled his eyes. "It could not."

"Oh yes it could, that was not fair!" Hejjiguchi said. Crossing his arms, he fell back against his chair with a faraway look in his eyes as if remembering. "The forest sounds? The lighting? The smell of trees, the wind in her hair? I barely stood a chance!"

The wind in her hair? Did he ever hear himself talk? Or was he seriously this oblivious? Ayato felt very tired.

"It could not," he repeated, shaking his head. "Not anyone."

"Oh come on." Hejjiguchi looked at him doubtfully, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. "Imagine yourself there with, uh…" His eyes lit up like he had a name on the tip of his tongue.

Ayato really did not want to hear the name, so he interrupted with: "Imagine yourself there with Ami."

Hejjiguchi frowned, but closed his eyes and thought about it. Seconds later they popped open wide with fear as he visibly cringed. "Nyaaah!"

His reaction was so pronounced that, despite himself, Ayato snorted with laughter.

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

Although his brow furrowed, Hejjiguchi allowed a slight sheepish grin. "Alright. So maybe it wasn't just the place."

"Of course it wasn't," Ayato said agreeably, fighting the urge to roll his eyes again. Was that all? How sad it took him this long to figure out something so simple. "You were disgustingly happy with her. She was clearly your best friend even before. If you would throw a tantrum about something this simple, you're either stupid or you've got some personal insecurities you need to deal with." He looked at him with a raised brow, considering. "Probably both."

Hejjiguchi threw him a weak glare. It fizzled and he stared pitifully at his shoes. "Yeah. Probably."

Ayato stared at him, unimpressed. He'd just doubly insulted the guy, and he'd agreed with him? Was that amusing or just pathetic? Where was the backbone, the pushback?

Yuri would've pushed back…

He considered Hejjiguchi for a moment, in all his rueful glory. He thought back to that day, lying side-by-side next to Yuri in the bushes while his classmates were left alone to flirt shamelessly with each other. How strange… How utterly foolish that something like that could plague him to the point of losing his confidence.

"If there's anything magic about that place," Ayato told him, scornful at first but then more musingly, "it's that the person you really care about is the one you can picture standing with you on that bridge."

Lifting his head, Hejjiguchi eyed him thoughtfully with an affected eyebrow raise. Then he got a faraway look to him again, all conflicted and wondering, which meant he was deep in thought so it was safe for Ayato to turn around undisturbed. And he did so.

Fifteen seconds later, Hejjiguchi broke the silence.

"Hey, Naoi?" he said, hesitant. "Thanks."

Ayato frowned severely at the blackboard. Gratitude from Hejjiguchi? Disgusting… but deserved.

"Don't get used to it," he told him.


Giving Hejjiguchi arguably friendly relationship advice made him feel gross all over, so he needed to wash his hands. Or at least escape the companionable silence that threatened to settle between them.

He told him as such (at least the hand-washing part), and Hejjiguchi just gave an amused snort and waved him from the classroom. So he went on his way, closing the door behind him, and as soon as he stepped foot into the hallway—

"Good talk?" Masuda said amiably, leaning against the wall.

Ayato jumped. He glared at Masuda in accusatory disbelief, holding a hand to his heart. How the hell did he do that?

"Aren't you supposed to be at lunch?" he asked dully, while Masuda smirked proudly around at everything. "How long were you out here eavesdropping?"

"Just a couple of minutes. Didn't want to interrupt; you two seemed to be having a moment."

Ayato snarled quietly. Masuda looked even more amused with himself.

"As for your other question, well, Hachihama got into an eating contest," he said, losing his smirk in favor of a more aggrieved grimace. "I'm just coming back from the infirmary. He wants something to read."

"The infirmary?" Ayato repeated, vaguely curious. "He threw up?"

Masuda closed his eyes as if in pain. "No," he said calmly. "He won and started bragging, so the loser punched him in the stomach. Then he threw up."

Ayato snorted through a sympathetic cringe. This school… It almost made the one in his dreams look normal.

He cut his laughter short when he caught Masuda giving him a sort of contemplative staredown. The guy was alright, but his stares had a certain solemn severity to them sometimes. Not that he was scared or anything. It was just a bit unnerving.

"What?" he said, shifting a little.

Masuda continued to give him this narrow-eyed look. Ayato was beginning to wonder if he was being critiqued, as Kimito would a piece of art. A piece of art made by him, to be specific.

"I just think you should take your own advice," Masuda said after a moment.

What?! Ayato glared at him warily, halfheartedly. There was a dangerous chance he was about to wax philosophical at him again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Masuda blinked slowly at him, undeterred.

"You and Yuri haven't spoken to each other in weeks," he noted. Ayato averted his eyes, scanning for the best escape route. "I didn't get the whole story, but isn't the – Yuri said it was a privacy issue? Isn't the privacy issue just as simple and overblown as their problem? Yuri said—"

"Yuri said!" Ayato threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Yuri said! She tells you everything, doesn't she? I bet she even told you about those two."

Masuda cocked his head, but didn't try to deny it at all.

"Do you have a problem with her having other friends?" he asked, a curious lilt in his tone.

"No," Ayato said grumpily, and forced a chuckle. "I'm sure she's better off."

"Hm," was all he said.

Ayato felt rather agitated. Was this what a couple weeks of friendship with Ami and her lackeys could do to a sensible person? Could the annoying virus spread so quickly? He started to walk off. "If that's all you wanted, I'll be going."

"Then, do you—" Masuda rubbed his chin. "Why did it bother you to know she told me things? Does she—"

He stopped, scowling over his shoulder. "What is this, an interrogation?"

"Doesn't have to be," Masuda said vaguely.

Ayato glared at him, suspicious. That was exactly something an interrogator would say. And – what, now that he'd played couples counselor for five minutes, he was entitled to one free therapy session? Again, he began to walk away.

Masuda fell into step behind him. He wouldn't have known except for his shadow – the guy was creepily light-footed.

"Look, I told you I didn't get the whole story," he said. "I was interested in hearing your side of things."

Ayato sighed and stopped near the water fountain for a drink. He grimaced when lukewarm water trickled out as if through a small crack. Classic Akuma High.

"Shouldn't Yuri be telling you everything? You're one of her new best friends." Standing, he gave Masuda a considering once-over. "Unless she's already bored of you too."

"You think she's bored of you," Masuda said, looking and sounding very interested as if this was a fascinating development. Ayato half-expected him to whip out a yellow pad and pencil and start scribbling notes for a report.

Sighing, Ayato wiped his mouth with his hand. "I don't want to talk about it."

Masuda gave him a doubtful look. It was annoying, and all-knowing.

Damn it.

"She said it was a privacy issue, did she?" Ayato said skeptically, leaning against the wall next to the fountain with his arms crossed. "What, that I couldn't mind my own business? That I was nosy and entitled? Something was bothering her and she refused to tell me! She just doesn't tell me things!"

Masuda frowned. "She doesn't?" he asked, with a small eyebrow raise. "She never tells you anything?"

The technicality was a tedious one. Alright, yes she told him about losing family members, and about her parents always being busy. About movies she liked and things she was good at and, up until their fight, all her impassioned ventures in operations or recruiting for drama club. She'd been happy to tell him those things. But…

"Fine, she told me things," he caved, exasperated. "But she just… she got so secretive about some other things. It would make her so upset, even guilty. And she just didn't think I deserved to know! She said it had nothing to do with me, but sometimes I'm pretty damn sure it did." He thought some more, still fuming. "And Hisakawa too. She wouldn't tell me anything about her."

Masuda nodded, taking in all of this.

"I see," he said, mulling over a thought. "But then, isn't there something or someone you might want to leave in the past? Wouldn't you not want to talk about it either?"

Those words made Ayato hesitate. Well, yes… sort of. There was someone. But was it really the same? Hayato was his brother, his dead twin brother, and he talked about him just as much as Yuri talked about her siblings. Just as often as anyone would speak of their ghosts. Didn't he?

"Nothing I would get deeply offended about if she brought it up," he said, watching a few students look hopefully at the water fountain. They noticed him there and kept walking. "She could at least tell me. Maybe I'd understand." Even if it was about him, he'd understand.

Masuda frowned thoughtfully. "Everyone has a right to their privacy—"

"But she won't, because she can't be bothered," Ayato continued on, ignoring him. He glared down the hallway at nothing. "She has these – these operations. And I think I was one of them."

"Operations?"

"Missions," he clarified. "It's like… a game of strategized chaos she likes to play. Befriend some edgy friendless brat. Matchmake for sabotage. Befriend a girl for a diversion. Join the drama club. Recruit for the drama club. Put on a play. Sabotage the relationship she matched up herself, or whatever she's doing now." He shook his head. "It's so unstable."

"That doesn't seem too impractically arranged," Masuda said sensibly. "The drama club ones seem rather linear."

"Well," Ayato muttered. Sure, maybe once he heard it in chronological order… "Well, of course it is. It's her newest fixation after all! Nothing's more important than drama club."

"Hm," said Masuda. "You don't approve?"

"Approve?" He didn't like the word; it made him sound too much like Kimito. "Yuri can do whatever she wants," he said stubbornly. "But I don't see why she's wasting all her time and energy and attention on it. Why she just plunged into it out of nowhere, at the last minute, when she didn't have to. It's so needless. So unstable. Why can't she put this much thought and effort into college or her future or something?"

Masuda gave him a careful side-look. "Did you… need her to be stable? For you?"

Ayato turned and narrowed his eyes at him, feeling very psychoanalyzed. "No," he said defensively.

What a ridiculous speculation! As a matter of fact, he'd liked her chaos. It was amusing, and had come in handy more than once. Her birthday, this summer, the… the matchmaking operation? That had been for him, he knew that. He just wished that she'd stopped there, that things hadn't spiraled. Then they might be outside right now in the mild weather, her balancing on a brick wall or treating a tree as her jungle gym. Or in the club room, her scaring the shit out of him by sitting on the edge of the window.

Masuda nodded with a brief sympathetic half-smile, like he didn't believe him.

"When people are in great pain, sometimes they turn inward for stability. Sometimes they need to rely on others," he said wisely, laying a hand lightly on his shoulder. "And that's fine, as long as the others invite it. But remember that the other person may be going through their own troubles."

Cowed, Ayato threw him a halfhearted withering scowl. Was that another jab about solipsism?

"If she would just tell me about them," he grumbled.

Masuda pushed himself off of the wall and maneuvered around him, which Ayato took hopefully to mean the end of this interrogation. But – no, he bent to get a drink from the water fountain. Probably parched from being so damn talkative today.

"I think," said Masuda, after he'd straightened back up, "for Yuri, drama club is a bit of stability."

Ayato harrumphed quietly. What, surrounded by thespians?

"She's getting involved, joining a school activity, meeting new people. Doing something to make a difference at this school." He wondered if Masuda didn't sound just a little defensive. "Something that matters to people – and colleges, even. You know, theatre work does look good to universities. So it is in fact an investment in her future."

"I guess," Ayato said, feeling sort of foolish.

Annoyingly, he had a point. It was an extracurricular activity – and, well, now that he thought about it, it brought out and refined some of her skills. Tech, particularly sound, probably had a lot to do with timing, creativity, and a clever mind. If she were to perform in a play, this would hone in on her ability to speak persuasively and passionately on her feet. To act onstage was to lead fearlessly.

But then, that was probably why she was so much happier without him. If he wasn't careful, Masuda's own persuasive pull would make him forget why he was angry with her. He'd drift back towards caring, only to crash into her barrier again as she continued to keep him at arm's length.

He frowned, letting his arms drop to his sides as he eyed Masuda with overt skepticism. "Why do you care about all this, anyway?"

Masuda shrugged at him, vaguely abashed.

"Yuri is my friend," he said, and Ayato's jaw clicked in mild jealousy. "I hope it's not presumptuous to say that we are too."

Ayato, petulant, gave him a stony look. Masuda nicely ignored it.

"And, see, Ami and some other kids from drama club are getting Jinko's childhood friend to come see the play. I think you should go too, for reunion's sake." Masuda eyed him intensely, expectant. "It's obvious to me that she misses you. I know it would mean a lot to her if you came."

"I don't think so," he said doubtfully. This so-called detective had missed one very important clue. "You weren't there. She's done with me. I overstayed my welcome and pushed where I wasn't wanted, and she pushed me out and told me we weren't friends. She doesn't want me there. We're done."

"Hm," said Masuda, with a furrowed brow. A small but expressive detail – he openly disapproved but would say no more on the matter.

Sometimes it eluded him that Masuda was also in drama club, not just Yuri's or the troublesome trio's new friend. Yes, he heard him talking about the play and preparations with Ami, but he may have passively taken it as Masuda humoring her. Now it occurred to Ayato that the club might be an extracurricular Masuda had come to take seriously. And he possibly insulted him just now by belittling it.

Since an awkwardness had settled from his pathetic griping about Yuri, he took the opportunity to offer Masuda a weak smirk.

"So… drama club, huh?" he said eloquently. "Remind me what you do again?"

Masuda straightened up then, looking mildly prideful as anticipation gleamed in his eyes.

"I'm helping with lighting," he said, "and I was simply understudying for Matsumoto – he plays a few villainous entities – but recently they decided to split things up. Now I do the mysterious disembodied voice."

"Congratulations. It's a good part for you," Ayato said honestly. Masuda would do well as a voice actor for villains or antiheroes. Then he frowned as something occurred to him. "But why would they assign you lighting and understudy at the same time? If you go in, who does the lighting?"

Typical theatre, he thought to himself. Typical frazzled Ami, probably. Utter chaos.

But Masuda was unfazed.

"It's not a problem," he said importantly. "Above the stage, you've got this booth. It has the equipment for lighting, sounds, effects, general tech. So anyone who isn't doing work onstage might be up there. But it'll mainly be me and Watanabe at the lights and Yuri handling things like sound effects and music. Since we're above the stage and it's just a voice, I can use a microphone and speakers to play my character from upstairs."

Ayato simply nodded. He hadn't given much thought into the mechanics and functions of theatre. Not that it was going over his head, but he was slightly overwhelmed by how much he'd underestimated it.

"But with Yuri, she's also an understudy, it just depends," Masuda said musingly. "Hanazawa meets her friends one by one, so Yuri could do tech work for a while and then run down to play Sakurai when she shows up. Or she could just be Kamiya the whole time. Either way, Misako and I would take over for her in a heartbeat." He smiled faintly. "It's a good group. They're all there for each other."

He quietly wondered if that was another jab against him. "I see."

Masuda gave him another expectant look. "It's a good story too," he said, in a not-at-all subtle prodding tone. "You should go."

"You're right," said Ayato. His classmate blinked, nonplussed. "I really should be going."

And he walked off, the grime of helping Hejjiguchi from earlier now covered with a thick blanket of unwanted guilt.

"Think about it," Masuda called after him.

With a dismissive wave, Ayato escaped around a corner and kept walking. He had too many minutes left of lunch for him to be comfortable returning to the classroom, but also too many minutes left of lunch to think about it.

And then, as fate would have it, he almost immediately passed Hisakawa in the hall in a rush to get somewhere. She'd slowed slightly and given him this thoughtful look that was somewhat like any of the other suspicious hallway stares, but to a more unsettling degree. Not unfriendly, but speculative.

Just enough to remind him of what he was so frustrated about.


He did think about it, though.

He thought about it all through the rest of Wednesday, while Hejjiguchi sat – quietly! – at his desk and did his own ruminating.

He thought about it at home before and after work. Kimito had him doing extra hours to make up for the time he wouldn't be at the shop this weekend, so he had to "bring his mind home from school" during that time or risk the ire of a growling boss. But beforehand, he stayed in the kitchen while his mother not-so-subtly spoke of a friend she had before she married Kimito. One who firmly disliked the man and got into an argument with her about it. ("We lost touch when you were a baby," she said sadly. "Your father didn't like me talking to her anyway, said she riled me up. But I miss her every day. We always wanted our kids to grow up together.") Ayato had been surprised – he'd never really thought about his mother having friends.

He thought about it into Thursday, continuing the conversation with the school staff about his festival arrangements. They were admirably helpful in working together with him. He wondered if it was their job or if Kimito had scared someone during his visit a week ago.

And he was so lost in his own mind at the end of the day, as he began his trek across the campus, that he barely heard his name being called.

Well, at first it was something along the lines of a general, awkward "hey you!" But then it was an, "Um, Naoi! Naoi!"

He turned around, and there stood most of the tree-danglers, hanging out under their favorite spot. But Shiruba, the one with silver hair that always looked very affected by static, had begun to approach him a step or two.

Behind him, Fujimoto and Takada were grinning around at everything. Nezumi looked the most tickled, as if watching a dare play out.

Ayato squinted at them suspiciously, not quite on high alert but getting there.

"Hey, so, listen," Shiruba said awkwardly. "Your mom – Ayame Naoi? She's a really good cook, right? She's the one who makes stuff like lemon bars and melonpan every year at bake-offs?"

His mouth fell open in moderate surprise. It wasn't every day someone knew him by his mother. But then, that was one of the few things she got involved with or had time for out of the house besides groceries.

"Yeah," he said, once he'd regained his composure. "Why?"

Fujimoto positively beamed into his fist. "He wants to get in good with his lady love."

Shiruba rolled his eyes. "Your idea," he muttered under his breath.

"No it wasn't!" Nezumi said, smiling. It wasn't quite clear to Ayato who amongst them was lying.

While the others jeered and watched him expectantly, Shiruba sighed and slicked his hair back against his scalp. Amusingly, it sprung right back up.

"Listen," he said. "I'll give you 5500 yen if you bring in some kind of baked good and let me take credit for it."

"Take credit?" Ayato repeated, crinkling his forehead.

Shiruba withered a little. "Nezumi thinks—"

All the guys except Hirohashi squawked and hollered at him in indignation, so he stopped and looked very weary as he corrected himself.

"I was just thinking it'd be cool to give the drama club—" he paused briefly when Takada made kissing noises, "—something really good to celebrate their performance."

"Kurimu's already committed to making something for the after-party," Ayato told him, wildly disgusted at the association of kissing sounds and presumably Ami. "Her mom always beats mine." As to be expected of the local baker.

Shiruba didn't look all that surprised.

"Eh, I figured," he said with a moderate shrug of his shoulders. "Then I'll be the opening act, give 'em a treat for before the play. Mine will just say 'good luck' while Kurimu's says 'good job.'"

"Huh," Ayato said, still wary. 5500 yen or no, it was a shady deal.

"8300?" Shiruba prompted.

Still, Ayato grimaced. "Are you also asking me to deliver it to Ami for you?"

"No way," said Shiruba, shaking his head vehemently. "Don't worry about that. I know she'd never accept anything from you, plus she'd never believe it was from me. I know a guy in the drama club. Horigoshi? You get it to me, I'll get it to him."

He looked at Ayato hopefully.

"8300. What do you say?"

Horigoshi. The name rang a bell – Ami had mentioned him a few times this week. Wasn't he the… Ayato blinked twice, getting an idea.

"Fine," he said, rubbing his chin. "When do you want it?"

The other guys chattered excitedly behind Shiruba at the tree. Hirohashi sighed and leaned against the trunk, looking as if his friend was selling his soul but he was used to it by now and hadn't the energy to interfere.

"Tomorrow, if possible," Shiruba said exuberantly, shaking his hand. "How early can you be at the school on Saturday?"

"Tomorrow's fine," Ayato said. "Have the 8300 yen ready."


His mother came downstairs from a nap and was astonished to find him baking in the kitchen of his own accord.

The counters were messy – spills of flour and beaten eggs alike, cracked shells, a whisk drip-drying precariously on a paper towel – but she did not chastise him. She looked heartened by the bowls of marshmallow filling and chocolate dip. Standing by the oven, she sniffed the air hopefully.

It was uncanny – she hadn't even looked at the timer. It went off seconds later. Did the woman have a sixth sense or something?

When he took the first batch out, his mother gasped at their beauty.

"May I try one?" she asked, making a space for him to set the tray down safely. "Or… are they for school?"

"I've made plenty," he told her. "Wait for them to cool."

She did. When they were only pleasantly warm, she picked one up and took a bite.

Her eyes lit up. "A strawberry surprise!"

Ayato grinned into his own small cake, admiring the layer of subtle pink cream amongst the marshmallow and breading. Just one bite had filled him with such warm chocolatey malevolence.

"Yeah," he said.

He waited patiently for Saturday.


A/N: You know he would. YOU KNOW HE WOULD! Ahaha, I can't wait for Tuesday.

Anyways, the Garfield joke? I didn't want to spoil at the top, but disclaimer! It's from A Very Potter Musical.

See you next week for the Akuma High school festival!


Preview:

"I should have known it was you."

"If I didn't do things I was afraid of, I wouldn't have any fun!"

"Consider it a peace offering."

"Do your best."

"So the rumors are true."

"Just leave me the hell alone!"

"You don't even care how I feel, do you?"

"Yuri doesn't owe you anything!"

[Chapter 30]: Watching You Stand Alone.