POV Midorima
"Cancers should take care. If you make plans today, prepare to have them fail. Keep your Lucky Item close and take things in stride to make the most of a bad day," the chipper voice on the broadcast tells me as I force down the last bit of my breakfast.
"I hate how she delivers bad predications with the same tone as good ones," Takao scoffs. For once, I can't disagree with his disparaging remarks about the Oha Asa broadcast. Whenever I don't respond, he thinks I am sulking.
"Well, um…at least today's Lucky Item is easy. I'm sure you must have a green notebook somewhere in all those school supplies you've collected," he says, trying to appease me.
"I don't know," I answer. I should reassure him that I am not annoyed with him. I should tell him that my emotional distance is unrelated, but somehow, all I can think about is the first day of our third, and final, year of high school. Last year, Takao and I were in separate classes, and if I have to endure that again, I will – no. I stop that train of thought. It is counter-productive. Oha Asa said I should make no plans. I squeeze Takao's shoulder as I leave the table in search of our Lucky Items. His ranking is poor – not as poor as mine – but at least our compatibility is high.
Takao peaks into the shed as I search through the bin of school supplies. I can see he is holding something behind his back, but he does not offer to show it to me, so I continue with my task.
"No luck?" he asks with a cheeky grin. Spending time with Serin's Point Guard at those Sunday afternoon games is rubbing off on him.
"No. It seems I have red, blue, purple, yellow, and pink, but no green. Strange…Anyway, Oha Asa suggested that I take things as they come. Perhaps we can stop…no, I'm not supposed to make plans. May I leave the acquiring of my Lucky Item to you today?" I look at him and he is smirking.
"Yes, Shin-chan; I've got your back. It's not new or anything, but you can put it in your school bag and everything will be fine," he says, and shows me the green notebook he's been hiding behind his back.
"Why didn't you just give it to me right away?" I ask, truly confused as to why he would allow me to continue searching, when he's already found the item.
"It's my basketball journal. I've had it since that game in middle school," he says, and his voice is soft enough that I have to move closer to hear him. "It's kind of embarrassing. I started keeping track of my stats versus yours so I could work on my improvement. So, I…if you'd found an alternative, I would have gladly put this back in my bag and not had this conversation, but you didn't, and I know how important this is to you, so here, I want you to take good care of this today."
He shoves the notebook at me and flees from the shed. I am left holding the notebook and I'm confused/stunned at the sacrifices he is willing to make for me.
On the way back into the house, I clip a blossom from the sakura tree. Takao's Lucky Items are always easy to acquire and this is unfair, at least in my mind. He has come to learn that if I give him a Lucky Item, it is for my benefit more than his and he usually rolls with it.
"Very pretty," he says, chuckling, "but you really don't need to give me flowers."
"It's your Lucky Item," I scold.
"Um, well," he says, staring at the delicate pink petals.
"What's the problem?"
"I don't know what to do with it. I don't have a button hole to put it in and it will look kinda girly behind my ear," he says, looking confused.
"This from a man wearing my sister's headband? You could have had a haircut. Dad offered to lend you the money." I do not like the trend of men wearing women's hair accessories, especially on him. I'd rather he just cut his hair like a normal person.
"I'll get a haircut when my next payment comes in. I don't want to owe your family any more money than I already do," he says. He sticks the sakura into his breast pocket and shrugs.
"I think the problem is that you fail to realize that you don't owe us money. You refuse to take an allowance from my parents, and you do more than your share of chores. Paying for a simple haircut is not some sort of charity, Takao. It is simply something one does for a family member."
"I wonder if we'll be in the same class this year," Takao muses as we wait to get close enough to the board to find our names on the class rosters. He's holding his bag casually over his shoulder, hyperextending his wrist backward. It looks painful. He makes it seem effortless, but I know he's been working on strengthening his wrists with light weights and many repetitions. He is always striving to improve himself.
He's constantly moving, whether from excitement or nervousness, I don't have the capacity to tell, but my height is to my advantage. I crane for a look, and see our names are both in class 3-B. Even though Takao's grades make him worthy of being in class 3-A, he's not there and it surprises (and pleases) me, even as it concerns me. I don't deal well with mixed emotions, so I simply compartmentalize the entire situation.
"Come on, we're in 3-B," I say, as he tries to weave into the crowd and get close enough to read the lists.
"We're in the same class?" he asks, like he doesn't believe me, but follows me anyway, with a maniacal grin stretched across his face. It is contagious and I automatically smile back.
"Tch, you think I would say something false?" I ask, clearing my throat and reining in the smile.
"No, but that's awesome! I asked my teachers last semester to recommend me for class B, but all I got were vague comments back from them."
"Why would you want to take a demotion?"
"To be with you, silly Shin-chan!" he smirks, turning his back to me and skipping toward the classroom.
When given the choice, Takao chooses to sit behind me, a decision that always causes odd looks from other students and from our teachers.
"You won't be able to see clearly around Midorima-kun's greater height," the math teacher tells him. "Perhaps it would be better if you change seats with him?"
"No, it's fine. We're not straight on to the board, so I can see fine," he says, and even though I am facing straight ahead, I know he is smiling by the sing-song quality of his voice. He knows I hate sitting in the back row of the class, like I was forced to do last year, but he knows I hate having potential…conflicts behind me as well.
"As long as your grades don't suffer," the teacher sighs. He is probably thinking we will be trouble all year long. I wish I could say that won't be, but I know better.
POV Takao
I was still warm after gym class, so I left my jacket on the hooks at the back of the classroom and took my seat. Shin-chan did not care if it was 37° out, he always put his jacket back on the moment we returned to class after exercise. It must have been some vestigial thought that he would stiffen up, even though today's class had been nothing more than a run around the field followed by stretching.
Shin-chan looked good in his uniform. The lines, the cut, the color all complimented him even though all the other students wore the same exact thing. I turned to watch him swing the jacket over his shoulder and confidently shove his arms into sleeves. I'd developed a certain fascination watching him dress the last few months and he has never disappointed me. As he slowly threads the buttons through their corresponding holes, his long fingers dance down his chest.
"Takao, you're staring in an undignified way," he told me. "Close your mouth and stop drooling; it's unbecoming."
"I don't need to be 'becoming' to anyone other than you," I joked.
"What makes you think I was speaking on behalf of anyone other than myself?"
"You're so mean Shin-chan."
He patted his pockets, confused, and I was momentarily forgotten when whatever was in his left pocket made an odd noise like a mixture of crinkling paper and wet cloth. He looked up at me, concerned, then put his left hand inside the pocket. He shuddered and his mouth fell open. His shoulders hitched like he was going to gag.
My chair tipped over as I rushed to him, and the general conversation of our classmates silenced as every eye followed me across the room.
Shin-chan's hand shook as he removed it from the pocket. Between two of his bandaged fingers, he held a piece of paper. It dripped red liquid on the floor.
"Blood!" someone shouted.
"No!" I growled. "Not his hands, anything but his hands."
"I…am not-t injured," Shin-chan stuttered. He cleared his throat and said it again. "Takao, I am not injured. There is something wet in my pocket. Help me."
I tried to take the note, but he turned sideways and shook his arm at me until I pulled the jacket off his shoulders. He switched the paper from one hand to the other, keeping it out of my reach by holding it high above my head. I could have jumped for it, but he was determined that I should not have it.
Instead, I took the jacket and turned the pocket inside out, dropping its contents onto the floor with a sickening plop. Our classmates formed a circle around us and the slimy thing that laid on the floor.
"What's going on here?" Tatsuhisa-sensei asked, pushing through the onlookers.
"Someone has decided to start the pranks early this year," Shin-chan said, his voice cold and emotionless. "I believe that would the insides of a dead animal. Yes, if you look closely, you can clearly see the intestines."
"This is unacceptable –"
"This is very predictable," Shin-chan said, raising his voice to be heard over the teacher. "I am ashamed of myself for failing to think this year might start off differently than the others. I apologize Sensei. This is offensive and childish, and stunts like these follow me around. If you will excuse me, I will clean this up and then go to the nurse's office to disinfect my hands."
"Yes, Midorima-kun, that seems like the correct course of action. Everyone else, back to your seats."
"I'll help him," I said, going for the paper towels.
"Good, good," Sensei said, already done with the commotion.
Shin-chan took the paper towels from me with his left hand and pushed me back with his right hand so that I would not get my hands dirty. He didn't look at me, but I saw he had shut down all his emotions. I'd seen last year's 'prank:' dog shit in his shoes, the shoes that are so large that they have to be ordered and shipped from Europe just to fit. Yeah, that was charming. And then there was the daily cleaning he did of his shoe locker to remove all the trash his tormentors piled in there every day. But this, this I seethed, was the first time they'd threatened his hands, and I knew that had to hurt more than anything they'd done before.
He removed the remains from the floor and bundled them up in a thick wad of paper towels.
"Take notes for me while I am gone," Shin-chan said, holding his left hand up and to the side so as not to further contaminate himself. The blood soaked bandages turned my stomach.
"You don't want me to go with you? I could wash out your jacket –"
"No, I want you to take notes, like I just said, Baka." He walked away with that stone-cold look etched on his face.