Chapter Text
Ken brushed his hair and stared solemnly into the mirror in his bathroom. Today was the day that everything would change and the remaining months of his third year of High School would turn into a living hell.
Not that it was that nice before, mind you.
But at least he could actively avoid interacting with the vast majority of his classmates beforehand.
That wouldn’t be possible once he walked into Homeroom.
His gut churned viciously and his hands trembled. Ken had never been the best at interacting with anyone, much less a girl; a complete stranger. And he was a total loser, everyone fucking knew it. Cheap bowl cut, huge glasses (contacts were such a drag to deal with and they cost way too much to justify), boring-ass brown eyes like ninety percent of the population of Japan.
He wasn’t good looking, he was well aware of that fact. He didn’t think he was ugly, of course, just a plain, nothing-special boy with no interesting qualities. Eighteen and no car, no savings, working part time jobs to scrape by in his single room apartment, no athletic skill whatsoever… nothing that any girls would take notice of, anyway.
And he was such a fucking dork, too. Fading into the background (unless he was being targeted by some asshole, which happened all too frequently) to read his occult and science magazines, or drawing cryptids in the margins of his schoolwork and notes. The dark-haired boy was constantly looking up at the sky during breaks and lunch - daydreaming that aliens would come down and take him away from this unimaginative, uncomfortable, and uncertain drudgery that he lived in.
It was probably a miracle he’d made it this far, to be honest. Shaking his head, he popped the cap on his daily medication (anxiety, depression, imposter syndrome, megalomania - whatever the doc decided on in the end, he couldn’t be bothered to care) and swallowed the pills with a mouthful of water from the sink.
Well, he’d probably dragged out his morning routine long enough to nearly be late. Time to face the screaming. Grabbing his book bag and leaving the tiny apartment he slept in without saying goodbye (there was never anyone to say it to), Ken hopped on his bicycle and pedaled toward the school. Contemplating and dreading.
What unlucky soul would ever be okay doing the Marriage Practical with a useless nerd like him?
Waking up late was a common occurrence at the Ayase household, in fact Momo was somewhat of a problem student among the faculty of Kamigoe High School for her tardiness. She swore that she was going to get up on time today, even going so far as setting three backup alarms!
Which she turned off each and every time without stirring at all.
This left the newly eighteen year old rushing out the door with burnt toast hanging out of her mouth, sprinting her way toward the train station.
Fuuuuck! Being late at the start of the Practical had to be bad luck! There were even rumors last year among upperclassmen about teachers purposely sticking late comers with a bad match…
And Momo sure as shit wasn't gonna get stuck with some delinquent or loser!
Chewing on the toast as she leapt over puddles from last night's rainfall, she just barely scrambled into the train before the doors snapped shut. Thank the gods of Kamigoe, now she'd be safe from having to partner with someone that could tank their grade.
She had always been pretty friendly (when she could be, anyway), but she also knew her mouth could get her into trouble - there were plenty of assholes that had a poor opinion of her because she kicked their asses (they deserved it, though!) Anyone else she could probably get along with, as long as they weren't too weird or creepy.
Arriving at the school with time to spare, Momo reached into her pack for her wallet - she could get a Pampy from the convenience store and still make it in time for the roll call. Before the announcement and posting of partners.
Really, she was trying not to think about it.
It would be great to be paired with a friend, though! Someone she already knew how to act around, a person who understood her faults and wouldn't pick at her over stupid shit (or her reputation). She wished that same sex partnerships were allowed to start - maybe she'd have gotten lucky enough to get Muko or Miko. Hell, she'd even take the pink princess over a total stranger.
Then again, she could get assigned Jiji, or Zuma (he was a few years older, but a nice guy, he just had gotten held back a couple grades due to family troubles), that could be okay, too. She at least trusted them.
Fuck. She was thinking about it.
Entering the convenience store, she waved politely at the employee as he greeted her then headed for the Pampy cooler. ‘Hell yeah, they restocked the yogurt flavored one,’ Momo thought to herself with glee, grabbing one for herself and two for the girls.
At the register the worker smiled widely at her, he had an unusually large head and a strange accent and way of speaking, but he was friendly enough and rang her out efficiently so she could be on her way.
Too excited to wait till she got to class (and parched from all the sprinting she did earlier), she shoved the straw in the Pampy before she even exited the store, taking a sip and sighing in satisfaction.
Only to run into something, the Pampy jug crushed between her and it and then exploded out the straw - drenching her uniform and face with her precious drink.
“What the fuck- ugh!” she cried in a sudden and boiling anger, looking at the mess and then turning her rage-filled eyes to look at the obstruction.
Which turned out to be another student, in the black button up gakuran that most of the boys in Kamigoe High wore. She didn't recognize the sputtering kid in front of her, though.
First off, he had a bowl cut (which doesn't look good on anybody), round Poindexter glasses that took up the majority of his face and hid his expression in the glare from the lights, and he was holding a Pampy-coated magazine. It looked like one of those dorky conspiracy rags that she would idly glance over when they claimed to have found a “human-bat hybrid” or some other crazy bullshit.
She couldn't see his eyes, but his mouth was curled in disgust as he shook the magazine between them, “Augh, your drink ruined my m- magazine! And my uniform!” He had a baritone voice, soft but pitchy in his annoyance.
This just made Momo more incensed.
“Your uniform? What about my uniform?! If you'd just been watching where you were going- fuck! You little twerp! Now I'm gonna be late for the Practical,” she shouted, shaking juice off of her hands and arms, not that it came off of her sleeves at all. Damnit, this was her favorite sweater!
“You weren't paying any more attention th- than I was, M- Miss Ayase,” and how the fuck did this stuttering dork know her name, “And we're both going to be late, s- stupid!”
That. Was. It.
Momo surged into that little fuckhead’s space and grabbed his gross uniform with her equally gross hands, jerking him forward until they were nose to nose so she could give him a proper dressing down. The dweeb’s cheeks flushed and he held his hands up in the air to either side of her, hovering around her shoulders but obviously too afraid to shove her away.
Good, the next few seconds would be much easier if he wasn't fighting back-
“Please remove yourselves from the premises before I am required to alert the authorities or to remove you myself,” came the calm and strange voice of the big-headed convenience store employee. He was standing only a few feet away and holding a broom a lot like a martial artist might (and Momo should know).
Momo would have loved nothing more than cold-clocking the turd in her hands, but the worker seemed real serious. “Sorry,” she started, looking at the name tag on the man's chest, ”Mr. Rokuro, I was just leaving.” Giving the nerd one final, dark glare, she released her hold on the collar of his jacket and roughly shoulder checked him as she exited.
Still wet and goopy from the splattered drink, the girl took her sweater off - crap, it had already soaked through to her uniform button down. Fucking perfect. She'd also have to wear the soaked garment to hide herself, seeing as her white shirt was fast becoming see-through.
Ugh, if she ever saw that dorkish asshole again she'd strangle him.
Slumping as she walked toward Kamigoe High (no point in running now, she'd be late either way, may as well conserve her energy for whatever bullshit the universe’d throw at her today), Momo grumbled and growled the whole way.
Upon reaching the shoe lockers just in the entrance, she grabbed her athletic shirt and stomped toward the bathrooms. After a quick rinse with her hands and the faucet to get the stickiness out of her hair somewhat, Momo changed into the other shirt and zipped it most of the way up. Staring balefully at her reflection.
By the time she made it to her desk (and received a scolding from her instructor), she was a full twenty minutes late.
Son of a bitch.
Specifically the one who ran into her earlier.
Welp, that settled it; the rest of the year was gonna fucking blow.
“Before we hand out the assigned partners for the Marriage Practical, we have to go over some ground rules and goals,” Mr Kawakami projected broadly from the front of the class, “As you should all be aware, this Practical is designed to help prepare you for adulthood - as well as how to pursue any relationship you may have in the future with a good foundation to build upon and instill a sense of cooperation and responsibility into your empty heads.”
There were only grimaces on the faces of the other students, though no one dared to argue with the teacher; his reputation was pretty… unforgiving.
The grey-haired instructor continued, already rubbing his temples with annoyance, “You and your assigned partner will receive the keys to your own shared apartment, where an artificially intelligent program will be monitoring you via installed security cameras. Cooperation and getting along with your partner - splitting chores, cooking together, hell, just spending time with each other - will net you points that will account for your final grade each quarter. Fighting, arguing, and of course any form of violence or disrespect will result in a loss of points, depending on the severity of the action. It will also be recorded and reported for a member of the faculty to go over, so that appropriate discipline can be administered.”
Momo sank down glumly in her seat. Great. She was going to get assigned some asshole and they'd both end up failing and having to take difficult remedial courses during summer in order to graduate. And she probably couldn't even defend herself without losing more points, if a computer decided what counted as “violence” and what didn't.
A student raised their hand; it was her friend Jiji, who was kinda the class clown. Kawakami Sensei leveled a threatening finger at the orange haired boy and growled, “Absolutely not, Enjoji. Stay in your seat and shut up. We need to get through this shit.” The tall teenager lowered his hand with a bright smile (nothing could get him down) and their teacher sighed and kept talking, “Those who somehow manage to score enough points to reach rank ‘A’ or higher, will be permitted to request a change of partner with another set of willing ‘A’ ranked students. Yes, this can include same-sex partnerships, put your hand down Miko. Now, I want to assure you that sexual activity is not recommended or encouraged - in fact, your two single bedrooms are accessible only via the thumbprint of the assigned person. It also, as of recent years, will not earn you any points. Please don't embarrass yourselves, the program does send us video evidence of these… encounters, and appropriate discipline will occur. And unless you want your parents seeing your homemade sex tapes, keep it in your pants.”
God, who would even try something like that? She could imagine the disappointment on her Granny's face if something like that ever happened. Or maybe it would be raucous laughter and poking and prodding about the size and skill of her theoretical partner's genitals.
Which was probably more likely, now that she thought about it.
Picking up a clipboard with a slip of paper on it in obvious disinterest, Kawakami Sensei mumbled as he listed off other (probably quite important) things, “Let’s see… Grocery funds will be provided to each couple, yadda yadda yadda, your responsibility to budget these funds together, etcetera etcetera, ignoring your partner and simply cohabitating will also result in a loss of points, only positive interaction will increase points… No cameras will be placed in the bedrooms, nor the bathroom, but you are expected to behave accordingly; anyone caught slipping into their partner’s room with the door closed will be subject to reprimanding… Alright, that’s probably enough. I will be handing each of you a packet with these rules as well as the name and class of your assigned partner. You will both be expected to sign the second page and turn it in to me after meeting said partner. If you neglect to do this, it will be considered a voluntary failure and you will not graduate until you complete extra coursework in the summer - this will also be true if your assigned partner refuses to turn in their paper, you’ll have to cooperate and encourage them if there are issues.”
Sonofa-
Kawakami cleared his throat and rolled his eyes as he adjusted his square frame glasses and started handing out papers to each student as he walked between rows. Quickly the class filled with quiet gasps of excitement or groans of disappointment, even the adult turning around to glare at the loud teenagers did nothing to assuage this.
Once the short stack of paper hit her desk, Momo gulped hard, her throat drier than the desert air she felt when visiting America with her grandmother. Hands shaking, she forced herself to pull the packet closer and peer at the name, regardless of the nerves bubbling away in her gut.
“Momo Ayase of class 3A
Is to be partnered with
Ken Takakura of class 3C
Please read the rules and sign the next page to confirm your choice of continuing the program.
Failure to do so will result in late graduation, following the completion of remedial courses and exams in place of the practical. Both partners must sign and return this form to continue.
Return the signature to your instructor, and go forth with your determination.”
Momo stared at the fucking names, vision going blurry in her utter disbelief.
Her thoughts whirled with confusion, ‘Ken Takakura? This has to be a mistake, or a joke! If anyone at this school had been named after my beloved Ken Takakura, I would have surely heard it by now! If not me, then Miko or Muko would have found out and given me eternal shit about it. So how could-’
“Girl, who’d you end up paired with?” Momo looked up into the red brown eyes of one of her best friends, Miko was smiling at her apparent good fortune, “I ended up paired with Jiji, so we’ll be cool, right man?” Then she held out a hand for an incredibly enthusiastic high-five from the grinning boy.
“You knooowwwww it~ I’m honored to be paired with such a kyooootie!” Jiji crowed, ignoring the stern warning to quiet down from their Sensei and turning to face her other friend, Muko.
The blonde smiled sadly at her girlfriend and shrugged, “Zuma in 3C. I know you’re sorta friends with him, right Momo? We don’t talk much, but we’ll be fine; hopefully we can get to A-Rank so I can switch to be with Miko!”
“Hey, Zuma is actually a really chivalrous dude,” Miko assured the girl she loved, “He’s not gonna try anything, he’s generous, too, so I bet you’ll get to A-Rank no problem, babe!” The pair hugged each other across the aisle between them, Miko rubbing Muko’s back reassuringly and whispering something in the dark-skinned girl’s ear that made her blush furiously.
She couldn’t believe it. All of her friends (minus Shiratori, who barely counted and was in another class as well) had gotten paired with someone they knew and even enjoyed hanging out with.
Jiji peered over her shoulder while she was spacing out and staring at nothing, not really registering what was happening around her, shouting, “Oh shiiiiit! Momo got Ken Takakura! Back from the grave to woo our gurl and shoot her straight to the top!”
“Whaaaaat?!” Muko cried in surprise, detangling herself from her girlfriend to peer at the paper for proof.
“Holy shit, Momo - that’s like destiny! Getting someone with the same name as your childhood crush? That’s insane,” Miko added, also examining the evidence right in front of them all.
Momo was staring unblinkingly at the packet as well, pinkish eyes wide and unseeing.
Who the fuck was Ken Takakura?!
Ken Takakura’s hands had started trembling even before he’d looked at his assigned partner’s name. But once the letters unscrambled in his brain and he took a few deep breaths to ease his anxiety, his heart plummeted through the floor and burrowed until it reached the molten core of the earth, where it could wither and burn with dignity.
There was nothing dignified about the high pitched squeal that smashed through his teeth with enough force to cause him to bite his tongue.
This earned him a few sidelong looks, but only for a second - everyone else was quickly far more concerned with their own assignments. Not that he really noticed. His vision was swimming and he felt dizzy.
He knew that fucking name. Fuck, he’d known that name since middle school. Since she-
Furious, unbelievably pink eyes filled his brain, and he was lost again in the depths of her rage. He’d already fucked it up and they hadn’t even started the Practical yet.
Fantastic.
“Alright, attention please,” the instructor said at the front of the class, Ken turned unseeingly to face her - he wasn’t in that room anymore, though, “Your normal classes for the rest of today have been set aside so that you can all get a chance to acclimate to your new living arrangements and introduce yourselves to your Practical partners. In addition to performing responsibly and admirably in the Marriage Practical, you will be expected to attend your regular classes and exams - so stay on top of your studies! This is not a time to be slacking off just because your parents aren’t around to remind you to do your homework.”
There were several snickers among the students around him. Ken sat in the back row, none of the desks surrounding him were occupied, but that honestly suited him best.
Being alone suited him best. It had for years; this Practical was going to prove that to himself and his instructors. Was going to prove that he was going nowhere, with no one, and no hope of achieving anything in his life besides becoming a lonely corporate wage slave.
No prospects, no plans, no future.
The bell rang shrilly, snapping him out of his dissociation. Fuck, had it really already been an hour? What did he miss?
“Takakura-san?"
Shit. Ken gathered up his mechanical pencils and slapped his notebook closed quickly, keeping the idle doodles he distracted himself with hidden from the approaching teacher. “Y- yes, Takahashi Sensei?” he asked, pasting a curious expression over his numb face.
“Is everything alright? You seemed a touch out of it throughout the discussion.”
Yeah, that was fair. He probably hadn’t moved for the entire time that had been lost to him in his head, “I- I’m, uh, I’m alright. It’s just… it’s a big… project.” What a wimp. Couldn’t even keep his voice steady for the instructor.
She smiled softly at him, but it brought him no comfort as he registered her words, “I hope it’s alright to ask, but is everything alright at home? It is okay if you need more time to process and help your family in situations like that.”
God, everything was going to fall apart if he couldn’t keep it together for this, “N- no! I’m just d- distracted! That’s all, really. My h- home, uh, I’m… er, we’re okay. Really.”
Real convincing, stupid.
But the adult was either as distracted as he was, or just plain tired, because she accepted his assurances with another soft smile and a pat on his shoulder, “Remember to take a look through the packet, catch up on what you missed. The last page has the envelope with the key to your shared apartment, make sure you meet your partner and try your best to get along. Don’t hesitate to come to me with any concerns, Takakura-san.”
Kinta Sakata was waiting in the hallway, having hung back to wait on Ken, like usual. They weren’t really friends - more like commiserators.
‘That’s unfair, Ken. Sure, you don’t go over to each other’s houses, but you talk and play card games. And he’s the only one who fucking bothers in this place. Whether you like it or not, he’s probably the closest thing to a friend you’ll ever have,’ the boy scolded himself glumly, looking at his school shoes and scuffing his feet on the floor as he approached his… outcast comrade.
“Left-tenant Takakura, it seems that the good Lady Fortune has smiled upon Gale Wind Albert this fine day,” the other boy spoke grandly, sweeping a hand out and then bringing it back to his chest in a display of something or other that Ken really didn’t get. It was probably a manga thing.
“Why?” It was probably easiest to just ask and get it over with, let him celebrate a little even though ‘this fine day’ was turning into his own personal hell already.
“I have been paired with Mistress Aira Shiratori, of class 3C, of course,” Ken gaped at him, and Sakata adjusted his glasses, “Only the most popular of the girls in our grade, a fine beauty that I can sweep off her feet!”
“Uhhh,” Ken started, adjusting his glasses, “Isn’t she the girl who p- punched you last year? For staring at her?”
“That was then, this is now, Private,” Kinta smirked at him, "And speaking of now, what lucky lady were you paired with?”
Private? What happened to Lieutenant? Shaking his head, Ken simply held the stack of papers out to his compatriot, unwilling to say her name out loud for fear of someone overhearing.
He really shouldn’t have bothered, because the other boy grabbed his glasses and crowed in amazement, “Corporal,” seriously, what the hell was this ranking system, “You were assigned the Gyaru Queen, Lady Momo Ayase? The Gods have smiled upon both of us, my brother! The beloved dream of a hottie gyaru falling for an otaku nerd is one step closer to coming true!”
Ripping the papers back and holding his finger up in a shushing motion, Ken scoffed, “That- that’s just your ero- eromanga shit, Sakata, quiet down! …Anyway, I don’t n- need to get my ass kicked over this already!”
“Nay, it is divine intervention, left-tenant! Both of us finally getting a chance at the slice of proverbial pie,” the chubby boy ignored Ken’s dry-heaving, “Otakus were meant to be with popular, busty ladies! It is a trope for a reason!”
“Yeah, in p- por-, uh, in your m- manga, maybe! It’s not real,” Ken tried to argue, adjusting his glasses and leaning away from the pervy boy. Man, Shiratori was gonna hand his ass back to him in a fucking body bag. He almost felt sorry for both of them, “It’s never gonna… w- work out anyway. You know that, right?”
“Ah, but fifty-seven percent of those couples who take the Practical end up successfully married to each other within five years! And I have not yet deployed my fool-proof eromanga plan to charm the Lady Shiratori,” Kinta leaned in, hiding his mouth with the back of his hand but not bothering to lower his voice at all, "I can let you in on the first few steps in exchange for… oh, perhaps two packs of Gathering cards?”
‘Eromanga plan?’ Oh god, his “sort of“ friend (for only the most occasional of needs) was going to get his ass handed back to him in a body bag and then that body bag was going to be sentenced to a correctional facility.
“A- as if, Sakata! I’m not giving you my Gathering cards in exchange for your s- sexual harassment guide!”
“With that attitude, I shall have to demonstrate my masculine capabilities,” once again, the tubby boy ignored his dry-heaving, “And Miss Shiratori and I shall have to achieve an A rank before you and Lady Ayase!”
“Yeah, s- sure,” Ken sighed, running his hand roughly through his now messy hair, “I’ll be h- happy to just fucking p- pass. Sh- she’s probably going to sw- switch partners as soon as possible, anyway.”
They’d made it out of the school by now, Ken dragging his feet the whole way, the packet clenched in one tight fist as his stomach churned with nerves.
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Left-Nut-Tennant Takakura! We both need to succeed, for the sake of future Otaku graduates!” Kinta gripped the shoulder of his white uniform shirt and shook Ken slightly, holding a fist to the sky in a gesture of… power? Encouragement?
Wait, ‘left-nut-tenant’?
“Y- you’re an idiot, Sakata,” Ken muttered, removing the other boy’s hand with a scowl.
“Loveable idiot is just one persona which I plan on deploying to win the fair Miss Shiratori’s heart.”
“Alright, I- I get it. What ap- apartment did you get?”
“Ah, we are three floors down from yourself and the Lady Ayase, unfortunately.”
Their back and forth continued until they separated in the elevator at Sakata’s assigned floor with loose plans to meet up later and discuss how things went while playing some Gathering. And then he was standing in front of “his” apartment door.
Just fucking spiraling.
‘She might not remember you, it’ll be fine- who are you fucking kidding?! It’s not gonna be fine! You’re gonna get punched in the face for ruining her uniform,’ he silently fought himself, sweat beginning to gather on his temples from stress, ‘She’s only one of the most popular girls in school, Ken! You think you’re gonna get a passing grade? God, Momo Ayase might drag you down with her out of spite alone!’
Groaning, he tugged on his inky bowlcut, mussing it up beyond repair and biting hard enough on his lip that a slight pinch preceded the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. Fuck. He was gonna get socked in the face when she saw him.
He didn’t wanna get socked in the face.
Maybe he could just… go home?
Was that an option? To just not cohabitate? Fuck. No, then he’d just end up failing. And then Miss Ayase would blame him for her failure as a result, making his possible punching an absolute certainty.
Maybe he could put it off, at the very least? He still had to collect his meager possessions from his apartment, after all. And if he was busy unpacking, maybe they’d have a reason to not… interact?
The door handle clicked and turned ominously, and suddenly Momo Ayase was standing in front of him with looks of recognition and surprise warring for supremacy on her face.
He hadn’t gotten much of a glimpse at her earlier, too concerned with his uniform and being late at the time, but her eyes were a unique mixture of pink and brown. The shade tickled something in the back of his brain, they felt familiar somehow, like he’d seen something so like it - but he couldn’t imagine what that would be.
Auburn hair that shimmered in the sunlight coming from behind him, blazing nearly red, two big glass earrings spun with each minute shift of her head. Sea glass maybe? They were turquoise and somewhat frosted, not perfect ovals.
And her dusky rose lips were drawn in a tight frown that made his stomach flip (with fear) before she stepped out and pulled the door shut firmly behind her.
“Oh great, what the fuck are you doing here, asshole?” she asked snidely, placing her delicate hands on her hips, her nails painted a shade of teal that complimented her earrings.
Stiffening, Ken pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and glared, already leaning forward to sling her bullshit right back at her, “Uh, I actually live here now, Miss Ayase. And I’d really prefer you called me by my name - unless you want the instructors hearing about you being a total child!”
Fuck, this was not what he set out to do. Black eye city, here he fucking comes, because there’s just something about this woman being mad at him that makes him want to rage just as much. Her eyes were slowly becoming more carnation pink as her lip curled at him in utter disbelief and disgust.
“As if! What kinda scam you runnin’ here, loser?”
Smirking and adjusting his glasses again, Ken went for the kill, “The information packet has your name on it, and this apartment is listed- with a key, no less. I live here, too.”
“Bullshit!”
“Well then, if you could tell me who your actual partner is, I’m sure we can get this all sorted out with administration,” he wasn't stupid. She was just hoping that he was. Or that he was wrong, because who would want to be paired with him?
“I’m not telling you that!” Miss Ayase shouted, pointing at him menacingly.
“Is that because you don’t want to admit that it’s me?” he asked with an undignified, but very deserved, snort.
“There is no way in hell that it’s you, ya baldy!” Wow. Maturity and grace all in one package.
And (falling for her bait hook, line, and sinker) he mocked her right back, “Oh come on! You’re so stupid that you don’t even know what hair is!”
“Take that back, ya moron!”
“I told you earlier that I’d really prefer if you used my name, Miss Ayase.”
“Oh, fuck right off!” the gyaru shouted, backing against the door with her face completely red.
“Say it with me, ‘Ken. Takakura.’”
Suddenly Ken found himself on significantly lower ground. She was in his face, hands slapped on either side of his head against the wall on the narrow landing. His heart was in his throat and the snark fell away from him in its entirety.
She was… really goddamn close.
“I ain’t fucking calling you that.”
“But th- that's my real n- name!”
Miss Ayase tilted her head, frowning in contemplation, “Hey wait, you were reading one of those nerd magazines when you ruined my uniform this morning right?”
How fucking dare she? “Y- you ruined my uniform, too, and it's n- not a ‘nerd magazine’! Mystery Mu is a legitimate p- publica-”
“Yeah yeah, whatever dork,” she rolled her objectively beautiful eyes at his argument and steamrolled over him, “You like that occult shit, right?”
Hesitating for a moment, steeling his nerves in preparation for the inevitable teasing, Ken nodded minutely and mumbled, “Uh, y- yeah. I guess so.” Like some limp-wristed hobbyist rather than the hardcore researcher he really was.
“Cool. So your new name is gonna be ‘Okarun’, got it?”
“W- wh-”
“Occult-kun, but shorter, get it?”
“I- I- guess I get it… But, uh, that's n- not even my name! And, besides, w- won't the practical dock us points if, if, if you don't use my… my name?” Shit, his stutter was getting the best of him again.
“Then pretend it's a cute little pet name. Married couples do that, don't they?” she growled menacingly at him, daring him to disagree.
“F- fine, jeez! B- but do you have to c- call us that?”
“What, married? Dude, I don't know if you noticed, but that's the whole fucking point of this,” she asked in a mocking tone of voice, then raised an eyebrow, “Unless you ain't gonna sign your half and we're both gonna fail?”
Miss Ayase leaned closer, and he thought maybe she was gonna bite him preemptively. She looked like a biter, fuck. He was gonna get rabies.
A familiar coil of pressurized heat started to burn in his abdomen.
Fuck. No, he can't- not right now! Shit! Ohgod.
The girl was suddenly right next to his ear, he could feel her hot breath coasting along his skin and sending electricity racing down his spine to places that he refused to acknowledge, god fucking damn it.
“And I'm pretty sure neither of us wants that,” he squeaked as her so-soft lips brushed the shelf of his ear, “Right, Okarun?”
Not trusting his voice or words at all (‘tell her she smells nice, tell her you'll do whatever she fucking wants if she does that again, beg her to bite you- shutupjustshutup’), Ken weakly nodded, eyes slammed shut and barely breathing at all. Hydrangea and charcoal, sea salt and coastal flowers were swimming in his lungs, and he could not open his mouth right now or she'd fucking kill him. He'd do or say something that would get him murdered, and he'd have fucking deserved it.
Because who the hell got a boner in the middle of an argument?!
Miss Ayase retreated with a too-big grin on her face and Ken felt his stomach drop down to his ass. Fuck. She'd teased him on purpose!
Hell. He was in hell.
Shifting his weight in an attempt to hide the slight tent in his slacks, he looked at the floor (hoping that lack of eye contact would make things easier) and mumbled, “I- I'm going h- home to, uh, get my th- things. I’ll be back later… and we c- can sign the papers?”
The distraction across from him shrugged like she didn't care either way, even though she'd just made it very obvious that she did. “Sure, whatever. I live outside town, so I'm gonna do that tomorrow.”
Nodding, Ken began to turn away, before remembering that it was polite to tell someone you live with if you're coming home late (he just hasn't lived with anybody else in years), “I- I… after I, uh, drop my th- things off, I'm going out with a… f- friend.”
“Uh, the fuck you are,” he whipped his head up to face her, more than a little outraged that she felt like she could order him around, but she kept talking, “The instructions say we're supposed to spend the first afternoon ‘getting familiar with our partners’ or I wouldn't be here. I ain't getting docked points just because you didn't read the damn thing.” Miss Ayase crossed her arms in front of her chest, and god fucking help him, he looked.
It was the movement that caught his eye. Really.
“You. Little. Turd,” her voice pitched dangerously low and quiet, and Ken felt a cold sweat break out on his neck, apologies and assurances vying for first place in his mouth. But they tripped over each other and he ended up doing nothing but flushing crimson at the implication that he'd been checking her out (which he wasn't!)
Curling her glossed lips into a sneer, she turned on her heel and went into their apartment, slamming the door behind her.
Well… he could have been more mature about that.
But so could she.
Groaning, Ken shoved his fingers into his hair again. Damn it. He had a pretty bad feeling that, because of circumstances far beyond his control, he'd have to be the one to apologize first. For peeping at her chest.
Which he still maintained that he didn't.
Scuffing his feet on the ground, he shuffled back to the elevator, resolving to put it out of his mind and go collect his things at the apartment.
Since the Practical apartments (dorms?) were technically still on school grounds, it didn't take him long to get back on his bike. If he didn't have to get up at 1AM to deliver papers, he'd leave his bicycle here- seeing as it would now only take five minutes to get to class from the new place.
It was home, but it hadn't felt like that for more than a decade.
Ken probably hadn't seen his dad in a year and a half. Hadn't talked to him on the phone for longer than that.
Clicking on the lights in the dingy single-room that he'd grown accustomed to, it only took two steps to get to his closet. He grabbed the dusty duffel bag off the floor and shoved all of his clothes into it. Aside from his two extra uniforms, he had three pairs of pants and shirts to choose from, some socks with holes in them that he just hadn't gotten around to fixing, and underwear (without holes, thank you very much.)
The rest of his things consisted of nothing more than his medication and bathroom things, the ancient electric kettle he used for instant coffee, sketchbooks, art supplies, trading cards, a few volumes of manga and his stack of magazines, as well as one little, very well-loved, stuffed plesiosaurus he'd had since he was four…
Everything he had to his name fit neatly in one duffel bag. How pathetic was that?
In the bathroom, he lifted the mirror off of its mounting brackets to reveal the stash of yen that he'd hidden away over time. It wasn't much, of course, but if he left it there was always the chance that his father would find it again on the rare chance that he did come home.
The lights suddenly shut off, Ken could hear the humming of the furnace end with a loud click.
Well… good thing he had a school-funded apartment to move into for the rest of the year. He could worry about past due electrical bills later. Thankfully there was just enough light coming through the single egress window that he could make his way out of the eerily silent, sparsely furnished place that had barely qualified as a home these past eleven years.
Closing and locking the door for good measure (not that there was anything worth stealing), the boy used bungee cords to secure the large, not-particularly full bag to his bike where the newspapers usually sit in the morning, and rode off without looking back.
There was a bicycle parking rack around the side of the student apartments, thankfully, and after he'd locked up, he slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, glumly plodding toward the elevator.
This time, he only hesitated for a minute outside of the door- though he did drop the key twice in his awkward anxiety before he managed to open the damn thing.
As soon as the smell hit him, it took all of his willpower to not turn and run away. Summer school might be a better option than this.
Toeing off his shoes and entering, hoping that it would dissipate (it fucking didn't), Ken moved further inside and tried to ignore the hydrangea aroma floating around the entire shared space.
What, did she bathe in perfume in the kitchen?
Miss Ayase was, blissfully, not in the living area nor anywhere else he could see. Perhaps he could get through the first night without any further fuck ups…
With his thumb nearly to the scan pad on the door to what would be his bedroom (he noticed that there was a cheap wooden sign with ‘Momo Ayase' engraved into it - but his room was noticeably devoid of any adornment hanging from the same little hook), his hopes were dashed by the opening of the other bedroom door.
His pseudo ‘wife’ peeked around her doorjamb and eyed him balefully before saying, with obviously forced cheeriness, “Okarun, you're back! We haven't had time to go shopping today so I am ordering in,” awesome, one less shared meal was fine with him, “If you want to make something you'll have to pick up groceries yourself because I am swamped with homework.”
“I'm fine,” he mumbled sourly, even though his stomach was in knots from a combination of hunger and frayed nerves- he probably couldn't eat if he tried, “I can do the shopping tomorrow, Miss Ayase.”
Her eyes were like old rose petals, but also not, and he still couldn't place what they really reminded him of when she started to say something-
Only to be interrupted by a low buzzer and a click. He tore his gaze off of the girl and looked to the point clock, which thus far had been sitting at zero for the first night of the Practical.
It now read: ‘-1’.
Blindsided, Ken looked back at the open-mouthed girl in the room beside his.
She looked just as surprised as he was, but it quickly got shoved out of the way for righteous fury; Momo stomped out into the living area, stopping directly in front of the mechanical counter and the camera fixed to the wall beside it.
“Hey,” she bellowed, and he was honestly impressed and more than a little terrified of her volume, “I was being friendly as shit! What the fuck are we being docked points for?!”
“I-” she whipped to face him, her glass earrings spinning wildly with the sudden motion. Fuck, her eyes were so goddamn pink in her anger, but he summoned his courage to the sticking place and tried to stand a little straighter, “I-, uh… I don't think we sh- should be, um, ar- arguing with the A.I., Miss… Ayase?” His voice got high pitched at the end and then his courage opened the car door of his brain and fucking bailed.
The buzzer sounded again. They both snapped their heads to face the new number.
Click. -2.
“Ohgod,” he whimpered, wide eyes on the counter. He should have been watching his roommate/wife.
Momo Ayase crashed into him and shoved him against the wall, his bag falling to their feet as her arms wrapped around his neck in some kind of wrestling move - and this was where he was going to die, he just fucking knew it.
Her mouth was against his ear again, and his body was really paying too much fucking attention to that fact. “It's reacting to you not using my name, dumbass,” she uttered on a breath, so distracting and out of character and why the fuck would she… so the cameras wouldn't pick it up! Of course!
And- and that meant that this wasn't a half nelson, this was a…
Fuck.
This was a hug? She was hugging him?!
Unable to focus on that, he shook his head (his glasses went askew as they bumped into her fucking temple), his arms stock still against his sides and not touching her in the least, “Th- that can't be it! Besides, y- you're not even using m- my name! It can just tell you're b- being a bitch!”
They froze, he could feel her heartbeat through his chest. He was gonna pass out. Or puke. Or pass out.
But he'd been quiet enough to avoid the dreaded countdown to the implosion of their grades. They both sighed in relief and he felt parts of her body shifting against his- and he tried to fight the whimper, really he did, but it snuck out anyway.
“It can't tell shit; it thinks we're hugging right now!”
“We are n- not hugging!” he whisper-shouted, face overheating.
“We would be if you loosened up a little,” her breath was skating across his skin again, ohgod, “Is that how you're gonna hug your wife whenever someone takes pity on you and marries your stupid ass?!”
The comment stung a little, but Ken had long since resigned himself to never having any romantic prospects in his future. Hands trembling like he was sticking them into a hungry crocodile's mouth instead of hugging his quote-unquote “wife”, he finally rested them on her back. Barely. Practically floating above the overlarge long sleeve she was wearing.
Miss Ayase stiffened at the very light contact, which was astoundingly unfair, seeing as she'd fucking told him to in the first place!
“You shouldn't call your wife a bitch,” the words were softer, but he was so fucking touched-out and anxious about where she was in relation to his body.
So he said something stupid, instead, “Then she sh- should stop being one- ow!” The woman who was supposed to be hugging him pinched the back of his neck with her long-ass nails and he yelped loudly.
Buzz. Click.
She started to turn around and he squeezed her back, afraid to let her see the glaring ‘-3’ on the wall now. God, she already pinched him, what was next? Biting?
Apparently he'd been a secret freak all this time, because he had to smother the voice in the back of his head again; locking it in a box and throwing it into his mind ocean with a fucking cinder block tied to it so it wouldn't make this so much worse than it already was.
“You should call your wife by her name, dipshit,” she said in a syrupy-sweet tone, but making sure to whisper the last part below the range of robotic hearing.
“C- come on! It can't be because of that! I'm just being polite!” This was so fucking stupid. There was no way that was why they were losing points!
“Call me ‘Momo’ or we're going to fucking fail. And I will make certain that you don't live long enough to graduate late!” Sinking her nails threateningly into the skin of his neck again (he did not like it, he was not focusing on it, his dick was completely uninterested!!), she was practically growling in his ear.
At this point he'd do anything to get the fuck away from her before she moved and figured out how much of a creep he apparently was, so he sighed and wet his lips, unthinkingly picking at the fabric under his fingers.
“M-... Ugh, M- Momo.”
Holyshit. He could feel her fucking smile on his neck.
“Do it again, husband.”
“No. You're evil, and d- don't call m- me that.”
There was the slightest pinch and he panicked as he felt his body waking up again to the fact that a human girl was pressed up against him so tightly.
“M- Momo! S- stop teasing me!”
She finally got the fucking message and took a step back, smirking at him and reaching up to touch his face- holyfuck!
“Good husband,” she rumbled deviously, patting his stupid fucking cheek.
(‘Don't squeak, don't talk, shut your goddamn mouth, you fucking freak -’)
Horrifically… he felt the whine punch through his teeth at her words.
Nope. Nopenopenope.
He was way wrong earlier. This was Hell.
Ding! Click.
-2.
Removing her arms (thank god- he wasn't at all disappointed that the first real human contact he'd had in years was ending so abruptly) and stretching them above her head with an exaggerated yawn, Miss Ayase stepped away.
His hands felt empty, suddenly.
Her skin was red, all the way down the column of her tanned throat to what little he could see of her collarbo- don’tfuckinggothere.
“Uhh, I'm gonna… go back to studying. We'll, err… we'll figure this out tomorrow?” Momo was playing with her bangs, twiddling them between the nails she'd scratched down his neck with-
Once more unable to answer, Ken covered his boiling, melting face with both hands and nodded frantically.
“Oh… okay,” she put on her false cheer once more, it felt distinctly uncomfortable, “I'll, uh… see you tomorrow?”
Another nod was all he could manage. Still hiding like a coward.
Ken waited until he heard the thumbprint pad beep and then the door click shut behind her before he sucked in all the breath he'd been holding since she said…
Since she called him…
That.
If he stayed out here in the hypnotizing cloud of flowers and the sea he was going to scream.
Bedroom. Pills. Chew. Lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling for ten minutes while his dick tried to forget the conversation in the living area.
What the hell was happening to him?
Why was this girl getting to him so much when he'd never fucking cared about that stuff before?
Trying to banish the thoughts, Ken sat up with a groan and unzipped the bag he'd drug into the room in his panicked daze.
Mystery Mu would save him. It might not have the answers he was looking for, but it would provide an ample distraction. A very, very much needed distraction.
Lying back down, he began idly flipping through, just looking at the pictures as he made his way slowly to the article on the Mount Hiba cryptid that was a relative of Bigfoot.
His heart stuttered in his chest and he dropped the magazine on his face.
Picking it back up with shaking hands he looked at the image that had caught his eye: the Orion Nebula (M42) in the Milky Way galaxy.
It was the exact same cosmic color swirl as Momo Ayase's eyes.
He was so boned.