Guilty Pleasure Friends

Error

"You seem to be in a good mood today."

Tsurugi caught his breath, taking a break from their sparring to wipe the sweat from his face, letting his gaze roam over Touma's figure. How the teacher always managed to figure such things out was beyond him. He couldn't remember acting any different than usual today, and yet Touma Taishi could always somehow see right through every one of his emotions.

"I am," he chimed, stretching and admiring that Touma still wasn't breaking a sweat, no matter how hard Tsurugi continued to try. "Things are going very well right now!"

The corners of Touma's mouth quirked up into the hint of a smile. "Are they?"

"Yes! The job you gave me couldn't be going smoother, Tai-chan!" Tsurugi beamed at the slight smile, exhausted as he was. "Just a few more days, and I'll hopefully be done!"

Touma gazed at him for a moment. Then his smile widened, and he reached out to pat his head. "Good boy."

Tsurugi beamed.

"If it'll make you proud, I'll do everything in the world!" he said, melting into the rare affectionate touch. "You know that, don't you?"

"Of course." Touma's smile didn't fade, but something dark shadowed his eyes. "Otherwise you'd be a bad kid."

Tsurugi shuddered. That face... he had seen it before. And he didn't like it.

"I'll be a good kid then!" he chimed, trying to play off his nervousness. "All you want, Tai-chan!"

"I know," Touma said. "That's why I took you in. Because I knew you'd be a good boy who does his task well."

Tsurugi nodded, not knowing what to say but basking in the kindness. This feeling of being welcome... of being loved, part of a family... for this feeling he would do anything. For this feeling he would set worlds in motion. No... universes. Anything for this feeling.

"Well," Touma said at last, "shall we continue?"

Tsurugi nodded and got back into fighting stance. He was exhausted and still out of breath, but today's training had been going great so far, and he wasn't about to admit defeat and stop just yet. Even if he hit his limits, he could always sail a little beyond on the fighter's high he got out of these sparrings. It was what he'd been doing for all his life, after all.

Touma made the slightest movement. Tsurugi followed with his eyes. Every tiny budge could be a hint, the beginning of a strike he had to ward off or an opening he had to use, or it could be a feint to mislead him and then strike. He needed to be alert. Pay attention to everything, try to figure out what his teacher was about to do. Every fiber of his body needed to be tense, ready to move at a split second's notice.

His breathing was still hard, but he paid it no mind. He was tensed up, and this was normal. As was the pounding of his heart, way too hard and way too heavy, as if it was trying to keep up with the burden on his body and struggling. All normal. And the stinging pain in his side...

No need to worry. He got that a lot. All he needed to do was regulate his breathing, and he would be fine.

Tsurugi inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly through his mouth, willing his breath to calm down. The pain in his ribcage didn't subside. Didn't matter. It would go away with time. Right now he needed to focus on something else, and by the time this training session was over he'd be perfectly fine again.

...Right?

Wasn't he feeling a little dizzy?

Well, not dizzy, he thought. A bit lightheaded, perhaps. That wasn't a problem. He'd been getting this feeling a lot lately, and usually it went away after some time. Right now wasn't the moment to worry about his health, anyway. He needed to focus on Touma to at least stand a chance in this sparring match.

Touma made a move to swing at him with his left– no, it was a feint. His right, he had to watch his right. Now dodge it, and–

For a brief moment the world flickered and went black.

Tsurugi staggered and stumbled. On instinct he extended an arm to catch himself against the wall, holding himself up as he regained his breath. His body felt strangely heavy. There was a pounding in his veins, as if his heart was trying with all its might to pump blood all through him and failing.

What... was happening?

Gasping, he opened his eyes without remembering when or why he had closed them. He stood slumped against the wall, his legs weak and shaking, his breathing heavy but slowly beginning to even out. Gently, inch by inch, he tried to push himself off the wall and back onto his legs, but his body protested, each one of his limbs too wobbly to hold him up.

"What's the matter?"

Tsurugi turned his head. Touma was still standing in the same spot as before, the arm he had struck with now hanging calmly by his side. His face was quiet and unreadable, his eyes oddly distant, as if he wasn't worried about Tsurugi's strangely weakened state at all. He looked simply... curious. As if he was watching a TV show that had just revealed a mildly interesting development, and he was debating if he should watch on or pause it and get snacks.

"I... don't know," Tsurugi said, looking down along his traitorous body as if that would explain anything. "I suppose... I lost balance?"

Touma still didn't move. His eyes continued to rest on Tsurugi's helpless figure, but this time the cool distance within them carried a hint of expectation.

"Can you keep going?"

Tsurugi swallowed. Of course. They were still in the middle of training. They weren't supposed to be done for a long time, not unless they cut today's practice much shorter than anything they had ventured in years. He couldn't be exhausted just yet. He was stronger than that. Touma expected him to be stronger than that, and for that reason alone he needed to carry on. Otherwise his mentor would be disappointed. His guardian, his only family, definitely wouldn't like it if he failed to live up to his expectations.

So he smiled, pushing himself off the wall and onto his feet, ignoring the wobbly sensation prevailing in his legs, the heaviness in his head. "Of course," he said. "I can still fight, Tai-chan."

Touma nodded and extended an arm, pulling him back into the ring and cracking the slightest of smiles. "That's good," he said. "You're not the one I chose for nothing, after all."

There was pride in his tone, but Tsurugi caught something else. Something Touma was leaving unsaid, but he knew him well enough to sense it anyway. The same thing he had overheard him saying before.

He's a tool. But as long as he still functions without problems, he has nothing to fear.

---

"...ro? Kuro!"

Kuro blinked, the world around him slowly taking shape again. For a moment he had no idea where he was or what was happening, let alone how much time had passed. He had completely shut down. Everything around him had faded into a blur, background noise he couldn't sort or filter, and all he could see was that the sun had moved on and everyone in the classroom was gathering their things and leaving.

"School's over," Mahiru said, leaning over his desk and frowning. "You were spaced out, what's the matter?"

Kuro blinked in surprise. School? Over? That couldn't be right. He had only just taken his seat in the classroom again, and then... he wasn't sure. He had simply shut down. Closed off everything and let his own thoughts swallow him alive.

Something flashed through his mind, and before he knew it Kuro's hands started trembling again. Had they ever stopped? He couldn't remember... they had, hadn't they?

He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything. There was only one thing he knew clearly, so clearly it had burned itself into his mind over and over and over again in this eternity that had felt like the blink of an eye.

You don't want to ruin your future being influenced by a delinquent, do you?

Kuro wasn't sure what he had felt when the teacher had said that. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything at once, and he hadn't understood it. All he remembered was that his entire body had started shaking for a reason that didn't make sense no matter how he looked at it. Then he had shut down, and time had become an abstract, distant concept.

But now that he was here, now that Mahiru was right here in front of him, now that he remembered... it was all so real.

Thoughts tumbled together through his mind, so fast he could barely follow. The teacher had warned Mahiru. He was a delinquent. Mahiru had ended up in trouble because of him. He was the reason for all the trouble in Mahiru's life. Not just earlier. Always. If he hadn't been there... if Mahiru had never befriended him... he would never have fallen out with Sakuya. No, he would never have ended up in the mess with Tsubaki and the Servamps in the first place. He would have been safe. And now he wasn't. Kuro was a delinquent, and Mahiru didn't deserve to become one. But as it was, even the teachers were convinced that he was starting to become one too.

They were right. They were all right.

Kuro wasn't good for Mahiru. He was nothing but trouble. He would never cause anyone anything but trouble. It was the only thing he was good for. He had never been good at anything except hurting people.

He shouldn't be letting people close to himself. It never led to anything good. Every time he tried... every time he hoped, it always ended in rejection or blood and fear and violence.

Like what happened to him.

He should leave. He should leave. He should leave. He couldn't stay like this. He couldn't stay with Mahiru. They were all right. If he stayed with Mahiru one of them would get hurt. Invariably. Either Mahiru realized what he truly was and left him... or...

Images flooded his mind, images he had tried to suppress. Images from the past. Gang wars. Battles for every square inch, every ounce of honor that ended in all sides crouching on the ground, beaten down and shaking.

His nightmare from when he had searched for Sakuya. All the faces around him. His old gang. Mahiru. Blood–

So much blood.

Everywhere he looked, everything he touched. Everything seemed to turn red under his hands, warm, sticky blood covering the world. Covering his hands. Covering his entire body, sticking to him, clinging to him no matter how much he tried to rub it off, no matter how much he scrubbed at his skin and scraped it off his flesh. Part of him wished he would start bleeding too, bleed until no life was left inside of him, and then maybe, possibly, he could make up for all the blood he had shed. But he never bled. No matter how much he tore at himself, his body was dry. Unbleeding. Lifeless.

Monster.