A/N: This chapter is written in Marui's third-person point-of-view. I took liberties in his personality traits, which may or may not have been emphasized in the anime/manga, only because we saw so little of him in both. As some kind of parallel to Kikuchii's introduction in the previous chapter, I hope to establish his character first before we get to the juicier and fluffier bits, so pardon the rather lengthy expositions. I can only hope they're not cumbersome. More time-skips! Rated T for mild language. And in case you missed it, this is set in their first year in high school.
Thanks to those who reviewed, followed, and faved this humble fic of mine! I also want to give a hearty shout-out to my beta, Whimsical Acumen, who has been so patient and kind in helping me iron out the kinks in our protagonists' characterization, as well as correct atrocious errors in grammar and punctuation. Check out her Frozen & Rise of the Guardians crossover story Fables. Masterful storytelling. Great stuff.
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2
. . .
Marui Bunta was easily mistaken for self-absorbed.
The impression was based on his lack of qualms in referring to himself as a "genius," a term which had been used so loosely by his parents and teachers.
As a kid, he had the fastest running time in the entire school, disappointing scouts when he cast aside a possible career in track-and-field for tennis. In the classroom, he accumulated an impressive number of gold stars in his sticker book for his academic performance and conduct. He was charming, and favored by the faculty, which had its perks—he only had to stare at them with his large brown eyes, brimming with unshed tears, in order to get permission to feast on his mother's freshly-baked cookies during homeroom. Cookies, which he was willing to share over a joke with his classmates who guffawed until their stomachs hurt.
Marui's friendliness quelled potential animosity regarding his natural propensity to hog attention. He had a great boyish smile, the corners of his mouth extending all the way to his ears, revealing perfect white pearls that was more than enough to catch his female classmates' attention. Encounters with them during recess and lunch always consisted of laughter and playful banter, which eventually mellowed into soft smiles and flushed cheeks, alongside the promise of another grand adventure in their four-walled classroom in days to come; there was no wonder why he always got the most artfully-decorated valentines.
Even among adults, he was no stranger to the spotlight. The string of praises and blatant displays of affection, in the form of hair ruffling and warm hugs, only served as fuel to his fiery desire for approval. With everyone's eyes on his every move, he had come to realize that there was no other way to go but up. In a way, Marui had taken this as a challenge to himself: to prove to others and, most importantly, to himself that he was every bit the "genius" they claimed him to be.
Enter, Rikkaidai. Where he was surrounded by hundreds of people who were equally as competent as he, or even more.
It was a hard pill to swallow. Becoming average, that is.
If he had been a living god amongst his classmates as a kid, he was a mere mortal against the likes of Yukimura and Sanada, who were disputably the number one and two junior tennis players in all of Japan.
After tasting a series of bitter defeats against Rikkaidai's monsters, Marui was forced to question the authenticity of his supposed "genius." First, came the acceptance of his reality in his new school. He was good, but others were clearly better. It was followed by questioning what he wanted to get out of joining the team. He wanted to play tennis, for sure. But he also wanted to win and the glory that came with it. Then he assessed his options to achieve those goals. Wallowing in a muck of self-pity accomplished nothing and becoming one of the nameless faces of Rikkaidai's thirty-hundred student population was definitely not an option.
He had to suck it up and move on.
One morning, he woke up and eyed himself in the bathroom mirror. Relaxing his arms and shoulders, he declared, "You're no genius." Then he leaned closer, jabbing his pointer finger against the surface. "But you're fucking awesome when you want to be."
Later that night, he dyed his hair red and practiced his swings with a renewed vigor.
The thing was, Marui was not satisfied with being acceptable. He needed to be better. Needed to be at par and, if possible, overcome.
The beauty of the competitive spirit fostered in Rikkaidai was that everyone was pushed to test their limit until the limit did not exist. This commitment to achieve was the positive motivating force that drove the entire school towards excellence, and ultimately, countless victories.
That was the pride of the champions.
And Marui obsessed over the idea of being a champion.
What little effort previously compensated by his raw talent was no longer enough to make himself visible. In order to go higher, he would have to redefine his priorities and make a few sacrifices.
After turning down a couple of friends' invitation for karaoke, he would stay behind after practices, replenish himself with a jug full of energy drink and a slice of his favorite cake, then proceed with his extra training regimen. He pushed himself to run laps until his legs gave out, where his knees and palms scraped against the gravel as he tried to catch his breath. He ignored the pain that trickled down the length of his arm as he returned every ball from the machine, aiming his shots so they'd land on the exact same spot on the wall for as long as he could manage. His eyes zeroed in on the ball as his body moved on its accord. With the proper angle of his arm and a controlled flick of his wrist, he swung his racket over and over until there was a consistency in his shots. Shots that allowed him to produce just enough speed and power to volley the ball and hit the net. Shots with just the right amount of spin to keep the ball rolling perfectly along its length until it dropped on the other side of the court.
The Tightrope Walking was among the techniques he perfected in a span of two years. Although his play was not enough to secure him the top spot he had been accustomed to in childhood, it was more than enough for him to be acknowledged by his seniors and for scouts and experts alike to pay him a little more attention.
By the time Marui reached his last year of junior high school, he had arguably become the best serve-and-volley player in the entire Japanese junior tennis circuit.
When he earned the regular's spot and in turn became part of the winner's circle, he was catapulted to the higher echelons of popularity. All of a sudden, he had gaggles of girls flocking wherever he went, photos and information about him posted on social media, as if his everyday life held the deepest secrets about the universe. The tennis club in general had a huge following, but it was a wonder why among the regulars he himself amassed his very own fan club that was unfortunately only second to Yukimura's, but a fan club, nonetheless.
If someone were to ask him about it, Marui would answer in an offhanded manner, "Isn't it natural? I'm a genius, after all."
The truth of the matter is the guy was pretty damned charming when he wanted to be, and he knew it.
For someone who claimed to be so obsessed with himself, Marui was impressively perceptive. He knew what the crowd liked as he offered a smile that reached his eyes, dipped his head just a bit while listening, and firmly clutched their shoulder in assurance. He was bright and open, leaning back in his chair and bringing his arms behind his head, as if he couldn't care less about the fast-approaching exams and Nationals tournaments. It was as if he had all the time in the world for you.
People were innately drawn to this confidence. It provided an illusion of stability, an asset to the collective spirit of Japanese culture, which Marui aptly exemplified. A confidence he balanced with a personable disposition, consisting of Cheshire smiles, playful winks, and an overall laid-back attitude, easily setting him apart from his more intense teammates.
Maybe there was a ring of truth in his being self-absorbed, what with his ambitious pursuit, bordering on obsession, to be recognized.
But there was no doubt in his heart that he was the type of self-absorbed guy people did not mind having around.
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.
.
In fact, Marui was well-liked in school.
The tennis regulars and club members respected and admired his efforts. He dutifully attended practices and completed training without complaint. A snarky but joshing retort from Niou would usually set Sanada off during the water break, but Marui would always be sure to follow it up with a pacifying remark to soothe the ex-vice captain's ruffled feathers. He readily extended his help whenever a teammate needed assistance in a routine or cheering up after a bad loss against the Rikkaidai Demons who were unforgiving in all their matches.
Marui was pleasant, so it was no surprise he would have friends even outside the tennis club.
There was a notable dichotomy of personalities between the tennis club and his other group of friends, however, and as a result, a slight difference in Marui's overall disposition. During practice, he was more compliant and mindful. In the presence of others, he was more shameless in his exuberant antics. When Marui realized none of the tennis club members were in his class that year, he had unwittingly found himself in the presence of a more easygoing crowd during the opening ceremony, who had unabashedly veered their initial pleasantries to a topic Marui was well-versed in.
Girls.
"Did Fujioka's rack get bigger?"
"Holy shit, is that Saitou?"
"The second years say this Ono-senpai's pretty hot."
"That's her by the stage, right?"
Although Marui had kept mum all throughout the exchange, his gaze was quick to flit from one girl to another, furtive and fleeting, as opposed to his friends who openly goggled.
Marui was not ashamed to admit he had a healthy dose of interest in girls; he had enough experience that would make even Sanada blush.
But it was muted, nothing out-of-control like that guy from Yamabuki, which would have made the female population wary of him. His interest was mainly fueled by being the object of affection of many female admirers ever since he entered junior high. As much as he liked to pretend he was impervious to their charms, he was weak to the sincerity of their every gesture and the way they seemed to hang to his every word. There was a rush at the briefest physical contact, a sense of pride whenever he would see them flush, knowing it was his doing.
The amount of devotion, albeit a bit crazy, was nothing foreign to him. Marui may not be as good as Niou in reading his opponents in a match, but the red-head was certain he could give the Trickster a run for his money when it came to noticing little things about girls.
He was receptive to the way their eyes lit up whenever he would take his time to ask them about their day. He noticed the change of intonation in their voices whenever he happened to greet them in the hallways. He made sure to respond with bright smiles and affirming touches whenever they would go out of their way to prepare elaborate presents for his birthday and Valentine's day.
But Marui was wise enough not to pay too much attention, knowing from past experience that too much would become detrimental to him. He was careful to cut the conversation short whenever innocuous talks about tennis and TV shows suddenly bordered on anything too personal. His smiles were genuine whenever they'd compliment him, but it was generic; the same things he would offer everybody else.
It wasn't a question of whether Marui was afraid to commit or not, however. After a slew of girlfriends in junior high, nobody would think to question Marui about commitment. Rather, it was a question of whether he was with the right girl or not.
Which brought him back to his current surroundings, as he scanned the stream of students who were filling in the gymnasium and heading straight to their assigned chairs that were all neatly arranged in consecutive rows. Marui's section was seated in the very last row in the gym, and he had a good vantage point of everyone coming in.
Entering high school marked new beginnings, so it was commonplace for a particular crowd of healthy males to pay closer attention to the members of the opposite sex. There was hushed agreement among his group of friends that morning, as they eyed the crowd of girls present in the gymnasium, that Rikkaidai housed a plethora of beauties. Particularly females who had noticeably grown and filled their tight uniform in all the right places after spring break.
Ah, the joys of puberty.
Marui leaned back in his plastic chair, relaxed, and watched the passing crowd with interest while his friends elbowed one another whenever someone vaguely hot passed by. They were muttering numbers under their breaths, their heads drawn together in a pseudo-huddle. He stifled a laugh at the sight and leaned towards them to tune in.
"…five."
"A five does not give justice to that ass. I say we give her a six."
Following their gazes, Marui let his eyes stray downward, until they were fixed on the girl's backside, which was unfortunately partially covered by the sweater she had tied around her waist. He tilted his head to the right to get a better view, and looking up, recognized the tall, buxom blonde who took a seat in one of the middle rows. He relaxed back into his chair and hummed appreciatively.
"Amane's an eight." Marui asserted with no reservations. When they eyed him curiously, he merely shrugged, a small smirk forming on his lips. "If you're basing it off her ass, believe me… she's definitely an eight."
"You lucky son of a bitch," one of them griped and playfully punched him on the shoulder.
Marui caught a whiff of strawberries.
"Who's that?" another whispered.
His gaze trailed after a petite girl with long, wavy black hair who walked past their row and took the seat beside Amane. Her skin was remarkably pale, as if it had never been touched by sunlight. The corners of her plump lips were set into a small downward arc, and her large charcoal eyes flickered between the girls conversing animatedly beside her and the stage where the teachers were busy preparing for the morning program.
He could see why his friends had 'marked' her—she was a walking, breathing Japanese doll.
If that wasn't enough to make her stick out like a sore thumb, there was also the fact that she seemed ill at ease to be surrounded by a group of lively classmates, who remained oblivious to her arrival. When Amane dragged her chair out of line to talk to one of her friends, Marui could sense the black-haired girl's growing discomfort. It appeared her skirt got caught in between the chairs when Amane had moved hers from its original position. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concern as she shifted in her seat, her eyes darting between Amane's chair and Amane, who was still preoccupied with her conversation.
"Never saw her before," Marui remarked after a long pause.
The girl seemed to have succeeded in catching Amane's attention. She bunched her skirt to the side, which immediately caught Marui's eye, and offered a smile towards Amane, who dragged her chair back and profusely apologized.
"Isn't there a standard length for skirts?" His friend was also staring at the girl's legs. "Skirts that long shouldn't be allowed, right?"
Marui hummed his agreement as he continued to watch the girl, who after assessing the state of her uniform was now painfully trying to blend with the background.
Rikkaidai was an escalator school, and the majority of people already knew each other from junior high. He could bet Jackal's allowance that the black-haired girl was among the few who just entered for high school, which would explain her difficulty in assimilating with some of the already established cliques. Seeing the rather helpless look on her face, Marui took an immediate pity on her and found himself watching her for a while until the principal finally took his spot behind the podium and the opening ceremony officially started.
Marui finally looked away and straightened in his seat as Yukimura climbed up on stage to give his speech as the freshmen representative.
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.
Between his classes and tennis club practice, Marui faced a sea of different faces. He had his fair share of interactions with a variety of personalities, especially girls. Girls who boldly asked him out from the get-go, and girls who took a stealthier approach and sneaked love letters in his locker. With no prior knowledge of the black-haired girl who did not pursue him, she became one of the nameless faces in Rikkaidai's thirty-hundred population.
Marui forgot her.
Not until he showed up in Class I-C one lunch time, anyway, and asked her for spare gum.
Her name was Kikuchii Tomoe, the 'Candy Girl'.
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.
.
Marui thrived in all kinds of attention—applause, words of affirmation, you name it.
So when Kikuchii showed signs of interest in him, of course, he was flattered.
Out of habit, he had stuck around Niou during lunch time, with his doubles-partner, Jackal, sometimes in tow. Kikuchii never moved an inch from her seat beside Niou's, her posture erect and guarded. Her attention was decidedly pinned on a book propped open on her desk. But he was not oblivious to the way the corners of her mouth would quirk upward whenever he would whine about cake, or how she would pass her snort as cough whenever he bickered with Niou about something stupid. He would always share a look with Niou whenever the punchline to a joke popped up because despite her best efforts, she would not be able to hide her amusement.
Marui and Niou never called her out, simply because she amused them the same way they amused her.
Although she never talked to him, never fought for his attention unlike her new friend, Amane, or her other classmates, he would feel her eyes, warm but intense, whenever he would enter the classroom. These were furtive glances, gone as soon as she had confirmed his presence in the crowd and back to whatever preoccupied her at the moment: a book, her notes, or perhaps the small crowd of girls she tried so hard to blend in with.
As furtive as her glances were, he noticed Kikuchii had great eyes. They were large, expressive black pools, which sparkled with barely-concealed curiosity. Her long eyelashes, which would flutter rapidly whenever he would catch her watching him, kept him from detecting anything that would have emboldened him to approach her sooner. Was she interested in him that way? He never really knew. Nonetheless, it did not stop him from admiring her from afar, liking the way her two front teeth would peep out from her usually closed-lipped smiles whenever her classmates would talk about something funny.
It didn't take very long for him to start paying attention to her.
He used the crowd to his advantage, used it as a front and securely placed himself at the center to make it seem less obvious that his attention had completely drifted elsewhere, particularly on the girl seated by herself in the corner of the room. He watched her listen with rapt attention to her classmates' conversations, chip in two or three words as some sort of contribution, and then lapse into silence once more. He would catch her writing seriously in her notebook or typing in her cellphone, which greatly piqued his curiosity. As a consequence, he would hang around her general vicinity and crane his neck to take a peek at what she was writing while in the guise of bugging the hell out of Niou.
One time, he caught a glimpse of the word Avengers crossed out on her notepad. It was endearing how she thought she was being secretive about her scribbling, just like how she thought he wasn't aware that she had been eavesdropping on their conversations.
"What are you writing?"
"Nothing," she stammered and quickly slammed her notebook shut when Marui peered over her shoulder to look. When he tilted his head towards her to study her up close, she simply averted her face towards the other direction. Her ears were tinged pink.
"Do you like superhero movies?" he asked before he could stop himself.
It took her a while to respond. Maybe she had been waiting for him to give her her personal space back before she turned to face him again. She looked somewhat uncertain, as if fearful of where the conversation was headed. "They're okay, I guess," she said finally.
He mentally pumped his fist in the air. Progress!
He ignored Niou's knowing look and proceeded with more confidence. "Are you more of a Marvel or DC fan?"
In the blink of an eye, she looked pained and he couldn't help but feel panicked a little himself. Was it something he said? Before he could even figure it out, the lunch bell had rung, and ultimately punctuated their brief conversation. Later on, he would realize that perhaps superhero movies were not their common ground, so he tried a different approach the next time he dropped by her desk.
"The Book of Five Rings, huh."
Kikuchii looked up from the book and stared at him, surprised and perhaps a bit expectant. "You know the book?"
Niou was mouthing something behind her, which Marui easily understood, being the genius that he was. "It's about the Olympics."
Kikuchii paused, momentarily confused, and then looked thoughtful. "Oh, you must be talking about a different book with the same title, Marui-san," she concluded. He glowered at Niou, who was laughing silently behind her. "This is a text written by Miyamoto Musashi. If you're interested in kenjutsu and martial arts, I can let you borrow after I finish."
"He's only interested in one thing," Niou drawled, causing Kikuchii to reward him with a curious glance.
Marui flashed him the finger and managed to hide it before Kikuchii turned to him again for confirmation. "The different elements in Musashi's swordsmanship are pretty cool. I'm interested," he assured, smiling at her.
"Very interested," Niou mouthed.
He flashed Niou the finger again as soon as Kikuchii returned to her reading, looking pleased.
The green apple-flavored bubblegum was his excuse to sit with her.
Tucking his own pack of gum in his pocket, he would call out to her and ask for a spare. He felt elated whenever she had a stick of gum ready for taking. Candy was their thing. His hand would brush against hers, soft and smooth. The faint scent of strawberries would overwhelm him. He liked the companionable silence that enveloped right after, as he watched her shuffle in her seat, seemingly at a loss of what to do. He stifled a smirk when eventually she would opt to stick her nose in a book, as if it would shield her from his presence.
Her silence didn't bother him as much as it confused him.
Because even if she would noticeably close up around him, she did like him, didn't she?
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.
When the weekly school publication came out, there was a huge black-and-white photo of himself in the centerspread of the paper—he was in mid-swing and was about to hit his famous Tightrope Walking technique. Right beside the photo was a detailed article about his tennis style, and written in small text at the bottom of the picture was Photo by: Kikuchii Tomoe. Marui thought he looked cool in the picture, and as a cool guy, it wouldn't do to grin like an idiot over something so small.
"You look stupid." Niou threw a towel on his face. "Wipe it off."
"Have you told her yet, Marui-kun?" Yukimura teased, looking at him knowingly and then at the girl by the bleachers, who was currently preoccupied with fixing the lens of her camera; she had become a regular visitor during practice. As if sensing they were talking about her, she looked up from the gadget, and then back down again in slight embarrassment when Yukimura waved.
"Told her what? That you're all meddling bastards?" His cheeks felt hot.
"How can he even manage to tell her anything when he has to use gum as an excuse to talk," Niou said nonchalantly, unfazed by his glare. "You owe me thirty hundred yen."
"Two boxes of that gum only cost twenty-four hundred. You're not fooling me, Niou."
"I'm charging extra for my services. I thought that was obvious."
He heaved a long, deep sigh. "Fine. Jackal's paying for it, anyway," he said easily, eliciting a predictable 'What the fuck?' from the half-Brazilian. He looked at his doubles partner who easily towered over him. "I'll count it as a belated birthday present. You didn't give me anything this year."
When he climbed up the bleachers to talk to her during the water break, he pointedly ignored the steadily growing thud in his chest when he took in the sight of her long, creamy legs—her skirt was the right length now—tucked sideways as she cushioned her camera on her lap. The thud increased in tempo, going faster and more erratic until it was a distinct staccato, when her head snapped up, the corners of her mouth curling as she finally looked his way.
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Ever since she found out about his ingenious attempts to strike conversation, it was now commonplace for Kikuchii to wait for him until practice ended.
"Oh," he said, very pleased, when she handed him a cake box one afternoon. He could tell that she was gauging his reaction. "How'd you know I love peach tart?"
"You mentioned it the other day," she said simply, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Was I wrong?"
Marui had mentioned it in passing.
He remembered he was sorting through the cake boxes he received after the Kantou Tournament championship, with Kikuchii working her way through a tennis manual on his left and Niou slumped on the table and feigning sleep on his right. Her eyes had possessed that characteristic intensity whenever she was 'in the zone', and he was secretly delighted he could watch her, looking all serious, up close.
"Nope," he replied quickly. "You've never been wrong when it comes to me, anyway."
She broke out into a pleased grin, her two front teeth noticeably larger than the rest. It was the first time he became privy to the small gap between her teeth and the little crinkle at the corner of her eyes when she smiled. Minute details that warmed him.
He stared.
Kikuchii seemed to have taken his reaction the wrong way, as she immediately shut her mouth closed and shifted in her seat.
Then he snapped out of it.
To hide his own uneasiness, he dug in his cake box and began to eat. It wasn't long before they lapsed into the familiar bubble of silence that was solely theirs, with him snacking and her reading, until he had to return to practice.
"Hey, Kikuchii," he called out when he had reached the bottom of the bleachers. He craned his head over his shoulder, assessing her.
She looked up from her book.
"You should smile more often." His face was burning when he sprinted back to the courts.
God, he was so uncool sometimes.
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The only thing Marui disliked about his friendship with Kikuchii was that the other boys seemed to think it was okay to talk to her now that he was able to make her seem more approachable.
The general logic was that if she was interacting with the likes of Marui then she wasn't so bad and wasn't as weird as they initially thought her to be. It ticked him off whenever his friends, who previously didn't have the guts to talk to her, would surround her desk during lunchtime and chat her up.
To his utter surprise, Kikuchii handled it well and seemed to enjoy herself.
He could have simply demanded to know what the hell was wrong with her, smiling at the other guys with that little crinkle in her eyes and the same elegant arc of her lips he thought was only meant for him. Sure, he explicitly told her to smile more often, but didn't she understand that they might get the wrong idea, with her smiling at them like that? But the thing with Marui was that he did not ask questions—to demand for answers would discredit his "genius."
More so, it would have given away certain… sentiments.
He still did not have enough confidence to deal with that yet.
So when he saw her standing beside Sanada during their class trip to the newly-opened historical museum, engaged in what looked like a lengthy conversation, which was shocking in all ways, it took all of his willpower not to march right up to the pair and wedge himself between them. They were currently looking at the huge array of swords in the glass display. Kikuchii might have been educating Sanada about the history of kendo or some other shit about swords. And Sanada being Sanada could be trusted enough not to ruin his chances, what with him having the emotional range of a teaspoon and all. But these thoughts were unfortunately not enough to quell the burning jealousy erupting from the pit of his stomach.
"Something fell," Niou remarked beside him.
"What?"
"Your face." Niou deadpanned, following his gaze. "Our class has an uneven number of boys and girls, so they were paired up together."
"Why didn't you pair up with Sanada instead?"
"You seriously asking me that?" Niou was thoroughly amused with his sourness. "Look, at least they're not bonding over otherswords."
"Shut up, I'm not in the mood," he grumbled.
"I'll lure him away. Five hundred yen."
"Jackal—"
"Said he won't be paying for any of your shit anymore."
Marui sighed. "I'm flat out broke."
"How about that screwdriver on top of your study desk?"
That brand new screwdriver was his dad's, but Marui was feeling desperate. "Deal."
A moment later, Sanada received what looked like an urgent phone call. He hastily excused himself from Kikuchii, and then Marui took that as the opportune moment to take the spot beside her.
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"I didn't know you were interested in swords."
Kikuchii looked at him, surprised, and then visibly relaxed when she realized who he was. "Japanese swordsmanship has a rich history," she offered, tracing the glass with her fingers. Previously, she would have let the topic drop, but ever since she warmed up to him, she was bolder in prolonging their conversations. "This katana was the one featured in that movie, 'The Wandering Samurai'."
"Heh. You've actually watched 'The Wandering Samurai'?" he asked pleasantly.
She colored slightly. "No. But I read an article about it online and saw a picture."
"Good."
He smirked when she turned to look at him, confused.
"Let's watch it together." He looked right back at her, his confidence building when he noticed her cheeks turning red. "You can tell me all about the history of this sword. Let's meet in front of the station at eleven this Saturday."
"You didn't even ask if I was available," she muttered, her eyes fixed on the glass display. She seemed to be thinking very hard.
"So you're not available?" He was pouting.
"I'm available," she said after a while.
"It's settled, then," he declared happily, matching Kikuchii's strides as they sauntered off to the other displays in the room. They stopped right in front of a huge portrait of a beautiful lady donning an impressive armor. Her expression was fierce as she led the battalion trailing right after her.
"Tomoe, meet Tomoe," Marui remarked breathily.
Kikuchii was undaunted by his casual mention of her name, and he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. "Tomoe Gozen. I was named after her because my birthday fell on the Jidai Matsuri."
He filed that bit of information in his head, as he looked up at the portrait of the woman with white skin and long, flowing black hair. "Tomoe, huh."
She continued to stare at the picture. "Yup, the heroine of the Genpei War."
"Tomoe."
"…"
"Tomoe."
"…"
"…"
"…Yes?"
He couldn't wipe the giddy grin off of his face. Her cheeks were a pretty tinge of pink again. "They're all crowding towards that door."
"Ah. I think that's the section where you can put on different period outfits."
"A photo booth."
"That's right."
There was a long line when they got to the area, and he was careful enough to stick with Kikuchii so they wouldn't get separated. When he saw Niou in the crowd, Marui gave him a thumbs up, which only earned him a ghost of a smile from his friend. It wasn't long before it was their turn. There were racks of clothing and props neatly arranged in the corner of the room.
Putting on his costume, the bunkan sokutai, was a daunting task. It had a dozen layers of clothing, and having zero knowledge of how to put them on, he visibly struggled. He got a familiar whiff of strawberries when Kikuchii, who was supposedly working on putting her own costume, closed the distance between them and helped pull the article of clothing he struggled to get past his head. There were a total of twelve garments and accessories, but Kikuchii was at ease as she softly instructed him in their proper order. It was the most confident he had heard her; her soothing but firm words were mellifluous. Whenever he writhed against a piece of clothing, she steadfastly helped him with it, the slight brush of her fingers against his chest sending his heartbeat into frenzy. She was so close; he could see the lighter flecks of brown in her eyes. He couldn't help but gravitate closer, with his head only a few inches away from hers, though she barely noticed, as she was so focused on smoothing the wrinkles on the cloth draped around his neck.
Then she stepped back and assessed her handiwork.
The moment was broken.
It was her turn. Her outfit had even more complicated layers than his, and to his dismay, he did not have the opportunity to close the distance again because she proved to be efficient in putting on all twelve articles of clothing without his help. When she had difficulty wrapping the final layer around her waist, however, he eagerly took the cloth from her hands and tied the knot behind her, taking pleasure in the brief contact.
Then the photographer instructed them in their poses and took their shots. It was quick. Before Marui could offer to help Kikuchii with untying the sash of her junihitoe, the photographer kindly asked him to step away. Apparently, he wanted to take photos of Kikuchii alone—Marui was more than happy to oblige.
"Those types of clothing suit her well," said one of the girls waiting in line.
Marui couldn't help but agree. Although Kikuchii looked terribly uncomfortable sitting alone and with everyone's attention on her, she eventually managed to relax with the photographer's gentle prodding.
"She kind of reminds you of Tomoe Gozen."
"Tomoe's way cuter," he said unabashedly, which befuddled the nameless girl.
When he sauntered off to Kikuchii after her turn, he caught her having an animated conversation with the photographer, who was showing her some features in his camera while the next students in line donned their outfits. She sensed him approach, and after politely excusing herself from the old man, met him halfway and brandished two photos in her hand. One was the photo of them together, where he stood behind her chair, his hand atop her shoulder. He looked good in his outfit, naturally, but Kikuchii looked every bit the regal Japanese Empress, with her pale complexion and her long, black hair cascading past her shoulders.
"Can I keep this one?" she asked, hopeful.
"As long as I get to keep this," he said, waving the other photo where she posed solo.
"Deal," she said, smiling brightly at him, which predictably did things to his stomach again.
Kikuchii Tomoe was definitely cuter than Tomoe Gozen.
.
.
.
Later that afternoon, as they walked home together, Marui decided it was the right time.
"Tomoe."
How he knew exactly? He wasn't sure. Maybe it was the way her name sounded right as it rolled off his tongue for the first time? Or it had something to do with his growing obsession with the scent of strawberries, mint, and ink. Or how his mouth ran dry whenever she crossed and uncrossed her legs on the bleachers. Or the flip-flopping in his gut whenever her charcoal eyes would light up at the sight of him.
Like how she was gazing at him right now.
"Yes?" She smiled that toothy smile he liked so much. The smile that told him she was at ease in his presence.
He was confident as he took Kikuchii's smaller hand in his, failing to notice the flash of doubt in her eyes, as he focused on how perfectly their hands fit together when he intertwined them. He squeezed her hand, as if to reassure himself, her palms smooth against his calloused ones.
A deep breath.
"Go out with me."
.
.
.
As he lay in bed that night, with his face buried in his pillow, he tasted the bitter tang of regret and confusion as he remembered the look in her eyes when he finally looked up—the utter panic so apparent that even her long lashes fluttering rapidly couldn't hide it.
"I'm so sorry, Marui-san."
TBC
. . .
A/N: I was gunning for a shoujo-like mood for this story. Was I successful? Any form of feedback makes me happy (and update faster)~