A/N: I figure that short HC chapter updates should come with supplementary TPS updates. So here we go!

[Chapter 09]: Troubles of Troublemakers

"You wench," Ayato spat when Yuri finally approached him at the stone border after school. "You think you're funny, leaving on a note like that?"

"According to Hejjiguchi, I am." Yuri's smug grin faded as she closed in on him, and she wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Speaking of which, any idea why he tracked me down and started interrogating me?"

He let out an exasperated huff. "Well, after you claimed I was in love with Kurimu and walked off," he said as they walked across campus to the school gates, "he wouldn't stop talking about my type of girl, wanting to know my intentions and interrogating me. When I decided to stop giving him the time of day, I guess he figured you were the next best option to get more dirt on this false love he and Ami are so obsessed with."

Yuri squinted ahead at the road, pursing her lips together thoughtfully.

"See, I don't think that's what it was," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "He was... asking me what kind of stuff I liked…?"

"What—" Ayato paused, furrowing his eyebrows. Wait a minute.

'Nakamura's a funny girl.'

'I like funny girls.'

'Maybe Yuri has time for me?'

Oh, that little…! Of all the cheap shots…!

Then again, he'd left on a line of ambiguity just to let Hejjiguchi fret about the exact same thing. Let him think he wasn't denying anything, and that he'd be the rebellious, brooding charmer and talk to the girl anyway.

It just irritated him to no end that Hejjiguchi had done it to him first. The passive-aggressive bastard sure moved fast.

"I mean, he's in the same neighborhood as me, and he's barely ever talked to me before," Yuri said, shrugging, "so I figured it had something to do with you—"

Ayato stopped in the middle of the crosswalk. "You're in the same neighborhood as him?!"

"Why is that the detail you focused on?" she asked, while impatiently tugging him by the arm to the other side of the street.

"Because you'd never mentioned that before."

Yuri shrugged. "It's not like we've ever hung out. He was irrelevant before now."

She had him at "irrelevant," but lost him at "before now." Ayato shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder and tried not to be too conspicuous about his fuming. It was just that it'd been him and Yuri since school started in April, and if Hejjiguchi legitimately had an interest in her, well… it might not just be them anymore.

Shit. He hadn't thought about Yuri having a boyfriend before. Didn't boyfriends and girlfriends eat lunch together? Walk each other home? Even if it wasn't Hejjiguchi, the issue still remained. He'd heard enough of Ami's gossip to know a girl liked to do those things with her boyfriend. They barely had enough time together as it was!

"Anyways," Yuri said, reminding Ayato that he'd been quiet this whole time, "I dunno, I thought it was some weird indirect strategy you were using to ask me what I wanted for my birthday or something."

Eager for the not-so-subtle subject change, he perked up. Thank God for her tendency to navigate towards this topic as of late. Maybe she'd finally come up with something. "Not exactly, but… what do you want for your birthday?"

"I want you to come to the beach with me over summer break," she said firmly.

He hadn't quite expected that answer.

Come to the beach… with her? Spend time outside of school with her? That would be an ideal solution for his latest worries. But then he'd run into the reason he only had lunch time and walking to and from school with her in the first place. Summer didn't just mean no school. It meant more Kimito.

"I…" He swallowed, but forced himself to go on even when her determined expression wavered. "I'd like to go, but…"

"Your dad," Yuri finished for him, her voice losing that bold certainty. She looked away, and he followed her eyes to the pottery shop in the distance.

"He usually has me working full-time over breaks," he said, and not enough of his apology could possibly fit into his tone. He loathed that store more than ever. "I don't want to make a promise to you that I'm not sure I can keep."

Yuri frowned, but nodded. "I understand." She punted a rock into the grass. "Hate your dad, though."

Ayato would have snorted his agreement if he didn't feel so miserable about it. Hejjiguchi would probably have time over the summer for her if he had his way. Still, Ayato clung to an odd sense of smugness that Yuri had asked him first.

Figured… the one person who put him first, and he couldn't even make time for her.

They kept walking in silence for a minute, all sorts of self-deprecating thoughts and curses toward Kimito rolling through his exhausted mind. A block or so down the opposite side of the street, a guy his age seemed to be treating a petite brunette to a thing of party favors. The girl had gone starry-eyed, both at the gift and her classmate. Ayato glanced away guiltily.

What kind of friend was he if he might not even celebrate Yuri's birthday with her? Maybe it was a sign that he just wasn't meant to have friends.

"If I figure something out," said Yuri, interrupting his train of thought, "will you—"

"Yes," he answered with all haste. "Of course."

If it were possible, he would certainly do at least this much for her.

They reached the fork in the road and walked onward, the air almost tangibly cleared between them.

"So tell me more about how Hejjiguchi hounded you," Yuri said, laughing. He got a good look at her cheeky smirk out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry I missed it."

Ayato rolled his eyes. Sorry she missed it, of course. Not sorry she ditched him and left him with that idiot. But he supposed he'd humor her.

"You didn't miss anything fun," he replied. "Hejjiguchi just gushed about how sweet and funny Kurimu is for an eternity—"

"Him too?" Yuri scrunched up her nose. "Are he and Ami that serious about getting you two together?"

"On the contrary. He's as against the relationship as I am."

"Okay," Yuri mused, drawing out the word slowly as they rounded a curve in the path. She squinted, but that may have been from the sun. Curiosity or sunlight, her summer eyes gleamed brighter. "So what made him so keen on cornering you just to sing Kurimu's praises? What was the point of all that?"

His mouth quirked at the memory. "To tell me to back off. Apparently to them I'm some mysterious, brooding bad boy—" at the sight of Yuri's immediate poker-face, he went on with an encouraged snort—"and Ami thinks girls like that, but Hejjiguchi—"

It started out as a muffled snicker, a tiny giggle or two sneaking past her fist. Then Yuri was howling with laughter. Her shoulders heaved and apparently something was so gut-busting that she had to hug herself to keep from doubling over.

Ayato waited patiently, sending his eyes heavenward. He should have seen this reaction coming.

"A bad boy!" Yuri sputtered between shrieks. There were actual tears of mirth brimming. "Like some hell-raising delinquent!"

"Yes, yes, get it all out of your system," he said, leaning against a tree and waving his hand dismissively. She took one look at him and laughed even harder; upon reflection, he supposed this was a classic bad boy pose. Sighing, he rubbed his temples. At least she was finding the humor in this

In the midst of composing herself, Yuri threw him a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," she managed, wiping her cheek. "It's just… I can't even get you to skip work. And they think you're this heartthrob that breaks all the rules. They don't know you at all."

"They think they do." Confident that her little laughing fit was over, Ayato straightened up and resumed walking. The estate wasn't far now. His father would be waiting, but he didn't want to look at his watch to see how long he'd kept him. Ideally he'd rather not have to think about it at all, but…

"What do you mean by that?" Yuri was beside him again, so close her hand knocked against his.

Ayato stiffened.

"Oh, Hejjiguchi just figures I see Kurimu as the type of girl I'm interested in. Meek, submissive, serving." Knitting his eyebrows, he punted a fist-sized rock out of the path with his boot. "Like father, like son." It went sailing into the forest and landed with a noisy crash.

Yuri's expression darkened. "He said that?"

"More or less."

"Moron," she said with finality. Ayato smiled. He couldn't imagine Kurimu or his mother saying a word like that.

"Imbeciles. All three of them," he agreed, feeling his mood lighten up a little. Talking with Yuri could do that to him more often than not. "You're right, Yuri. I'm not like him. It just pisses me off when lowlives like Hejjiguchi think so."

Yuri hummed sympathetically, though the sound turned thoughtful.

"Ami's his friend." She gazed up at the flecks of July sun that peeked through the treetops. "For him to go against her on this… I mean, you'd think he'd just give you the shovel talk and be done with it. But you haven't done anything. So what does he care?"

Ayato shook his head, not really following. "Does it matter? I don't care if he supports the relationship or not. I don't want to be in it."

"Fair enough," said Yuri, and he was glad to see the subject of Hejjiguchi fading from her interest. She flicked her stare towards him, deliberately avoiding the sight of the clearing just ahead. "So what are you going to do about all this?"

That was a good question. As tempted as he still was to pay attention to Kurimu out of spite towards Hejjiguchi, he wasn't sure if it was worth it to fuel Ami's and Kurimu's suspicions. He would rather Ami give up and find something else to entertain her. This was high school, after all. Relationships and attention spans were fleeting. At least, the ones that didn't matter.

He met Yuri's gaze, which was still fixated on him, and he sighed. A fluttery breeze stuck his bangs to the sweat on his forehead. Annoyed, he moved a hand through his hair, guiding it out of his face.

"Wait for this to blow over, I guess," Ayato said. "Ride it out until summer break." Then he flashed her the smarmiest grin he could conjure. "And then if we do see them outside of school, they'll take the hint when they see me ogling you in a bikini."

The resulting shade of tomato red on her face was worth every second he'd had to listen to Hejjiguchi jabber. Her breath catching on an indignant squeak, she made a move as if to thwack his shoulder. Then her expression softened. She paused her hand in mid-air and brought it back down.

"Oh, ogle all you want. I understand," she responded with a growing smirk, bumping his arm with her elbow. "Just as long as it's at the beach on July 27th."

Although he felt guilty for getting her hopes up, he couldn't help but play along. "Yes ma'am," he said, tipping an imaginary hat in a mock salute. Then he blinked twice. The move felt oddly familiar or natural, like an instinct. He was puzzled for a second before he remembered doing it in his dream.

Yuri was looking at him oddly too, but it couldn't be for the same reason. Another blink and her expression vanished, so maybe he had imagined it.

They kept walking. As the clearing drew closer, a sudden thought sickened his stomach.

After all that had happened yesterday, what if…

He checked his wristwatch. Dread slammed into his throat, shutting it tight. Despite the summer heat, he felt cold and very faint, and the very few hours of sleep were catching up to him as well.

He stopped, and turned to Yuri, forcing his mouth to obey him. Easier thought than done. He was sure he looked wild-eyed.

"I—"

"I know," she said, lowering her voice and giving his arm a quick squeeze. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah." It came out as a croak, like a damn frog. "See you."

This time, she didn't linger. Either she was getting better at that, or she understood the panic on his face. She turned sharply on her heel and trotted towards the other path into town, making little to no noise in the process. Her stealth was admirable; he always figured she must have had practice sneaking in and out of her house to go to parties or something.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on that. She didn't linger and neither should he.

Swallowing hard, he broke into a brisk sprint until the trees stopped and the field began. Once he reached the workshop, he stumbled to a halt and mopped the sweat from his brow. He didn't hear anything going on inside. No chiseling, no scraping of ceramics against wood, no whirring of the potter's wheel. He let his heart and lungs rest for a second. Maybe Kimito wasn't in—

The door burst open with a bang, as if blown from its hinges by an explosive.

"Haven't you learned your lesson?!" Kimito demanded, appearing in the doorway with a sour expression on his face. He propped the door open by leaning against it and stood there with his arms crossed. "Don't keep me waiting, Ayato!"

As much as he gritted his teeth, he didn't have the strength or the energy to hold back a retort. "School holds me up sometimes!" he snapped, and instantly regretted it.

Kimito's eyes narrowed warningly. The muscles in his face tightened.

"I'd say school holds you back sometimes." He reached out and grabbed Ayato by the arm, yanking him forward. "Don't give me attitude again. Get in here." As Ayato ducked into the workshop, Kimito cuffed him over the head and pulled the door shut behind them.

During pottery sessions such as these, Kimito sat next to him at his own wheel. As a kid it used to inspire him; after learning to associate it with criticism, it would depress him; and now that his skill had improved, it just annoyed him. He might not be a master of pottery yet, but he couldn't stand having his father practically breathing down his shoulder.

Sometimes, like in this instance, he wondered if in some twisted way Kimito thought of this as father-son bonding. He doubted it, though. Looking up from his potter's wheel, he snuck a sideways peek at Kimito. The man was, as expected, furiously fixated on the teapot he was forming. He wouldn't even recall that Ayato was here until the critical side of his brain kicked in to remind him to pick apart each and every flaw in his apprentice's handiwork.

This wasn't bonding. This was just business.

After a few minutes of working in silence, Kimito's voice came at last. "Come summer break, you won't have any more excuses."

Ayato chose not to look up at this point. Perfecting his vase was more important, lest his distracted state send clay splattering everywhere. Besides that, he hated the reminder. Neither he nor Kimito expected him to go to a top-tier university after high school since he was already part of the family business, so there was no need to take supplementary classes during vacation. It was like he told Yuri – his summer was already decided for him.

"You're right," he agreed. "No more school for me to disappear to for a few weeks. Soon you'll be stuck with me for a whole summer."

Kimito said nothing. Ayato wondered if the silence was him angrily trying to figure out if he'd just been sassed, or if he was having trouble thinking up a response. It wasn't like the man could laugh it off or warmly reassure him that was exactly what he wanted.

Finally, his father harrumphed.

"You need the training anyway," he said brusquely.

Scowling, Ayato clenched his jaw and returned his attention to dampening the clay's surfaces.

Goddammit. Kimito: 1, Ayato: 0.

Mother was able to coax them inside for dinner, but she was kidding herself if she thought it would give him energy. Ayato couldn't feel his hands and he was pretty sure his brain had misted out of his body and was in a whole other dimension. Some of that was exhaustion, the rest was getting slapped over the head about three times over the course of three hours because his father had mistaken exhaustion for laziness. That man's backhand could cause quite the concussion; Ayato had shaken his head to stay awake at the dinner table and he swore he could hear rattling.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" Mother asked, too fretful to glance at her own dinner. "From the looks of it, I don't know how you made it through the day!"

"It's his own fault," said Kimito, before Ayato could even attempt to process and answer the question. "He needs to work on his time management skills."

"He needs to get some rest." Ayato was conscious enough to give her a look of alarm; Kimito's was more of a testy glower. "He's a growing boy, and he needs brainpower for school and for his training in pottery. Unless you can argue that one of those doesn't require brainpower…?"

It was impossible that those words just came out of his mother's mouth. If it weren't for the wide-eyed, livid expression white hot and incandescent on his father's face, Ayato might've been convinced it never happened. Just a tired hallucination. But Kimito had gone very pale, his nostrils flaring and blowing steam like a taunted bull. And his mother looked very surprised with herself, and very scared.

Dinner fell uncomfortably quiet. Silence during a family meal wasn't uncommon, but this was one of those dinners where the silence lingering in the air prickled with the electricity of Kimito's foul mood.

Ayato was glad he had eaten fast to distract himself, because after a few minutes or eternities, Kimito spoke in a cold voice. "Ayato, go upstairs and rest."

Nodding, Ayato mumbled a "yes sir" and "thanks for the food" to his mother. He stumbled, disoriented, to his room and collapsed on the bed.

Sleep did not come quickly. He didn't expect it to, nor was he sure that he wanted it to with the state of his mind. He was only half-joking about a possible concussion, and would rather not die during Yuri's birth month. Instead, he stared at the indents on the ceiling and focused on the shapes he recognized instead of listening to the ruckus downstairs.

His mother rarely screamed. The shouting usually came from Kimito. His mother more often wept, which was even worse. When he was younger, the contrast of their voices used to terrify him. Kimito's voice, scratchy but deep and booming; Mother's, soft and shaky, timid and tearful. Those voices appeared in his dreams sometimes. No plot, no visuals, just sounds, voices that warred with each other and clawed painfully at his heart. If it was a war, the booming voice won while the soft voice cowered and sobbed.

Such was the case downstairs.

Ayato squeezed his eyes shut and pulled a sheet over his head, then a pillow. It was a childish move, a reach for comfort, but it did block out some of it. Not all, just some. He could still hear muffled yelling, furious stomping, furniture scraping the tiles as it was roughly pushed around the floor. The distinct sound of a ceramic dish shattering reached his ears. He would be the one to replace that.

Ayato breathed in and out steadily under the covers. They never argued quite like this when they had two sons. But when they did, he had been younger, and it had frightened him more.

"Ayato?" Hayato whispered. "Are you alright?"

Their beds were across the room from each other, but sometimes one of the brothers would get chatty (Hayato) and turn on his side to stage-whisper whatever came to mind. Things that made Ayato giggle and occasionally got the lights turned on and stern warnings growled through the door. Ayato was less inclined to speak, but in this case he doubted either of his parents would hear him.

"He's so loud," he said, clutching his pillow. "I'm scared. I can't sleep."

Hayato nodded knowingly.

"It scares me too, and when he raises his voice during lessons," he said. They both shared a little frown. "Just… breathe like this, okay? Breathe like me."

Ayato followed his strategy closely. Deep breath in, slow breath out. Deep breath in, slow breath out. It didn't work perfectly, but at least he was thinking about something else. He could listen to his brother breathe too. It was so exaggerated. He knew it was for his sake, but it made him laugh. Hayato giggled too.

They giggled from their respective sides of the room and tried to sound like deflating balloons, which made their giggles worse. They clapped their hands over their mouths when their laughter was more noticeable than the yelling downstairs.

The hallway lights didn't turn on. They'd laughed like brothers. They fell asleep breathing deeply. Despite the fighting downstairs, it was one of their better nights.

One of Ayato's better childhood memories.

Deep breath in, slow breath out. Deep breath in, slow breath out. Snarls and raised voices and watery tones downstairs. He couldn't do anything about it but breathe.

He did find sleep in the midst of this chaos. His brother had taught him that peace of mind.

He doubted thoughts of Hayato had the same effect on his mother.

Preview:

"Those look like they hurt."

"Need any extra help?"

"Traitor."

"It could be like a double-date!"

"Ami seems the stalker type."

"I'm not trying to get rid of you, jerk."

"Soon, then."

[Chapter 10]: Summer Ahead.