Chapter Text
Keigo didn’t quite know how he’d gotten into this mess.
Actually, if he was being honest, he knew exactly how he’d gotten into this mess. Said reason bumps her elbow against his side, not at all fazed by the displeased pout on his face as she looks on in anticipation for what was to come.
Rumi Usagiyama has been his best friend since they were practically in diapers, even if they were on completely opposite sides of the spectrum. Where Keigo was soft and quiet, gravitating towards the smell of oil paints and the draw of an empty canvas, Rumi was an adrenaline junkie at heart, hopping from one set of dangers to another without a lick of fear.
Their parents had always said that they balanced each other out.
Though, right now, he was questioning why the hell he was even friends with her in the first place, and how he’d let her drag him into this mess despite knowing how monumentally bad this would be, or how he didn’t belong anywhere within a 100 km radius of this god awful place.
“Isn’t this exciting?!”
“Don’t talk to me.”
“Aww, come on Sparrow. Lighten up! You know you’d be sulking in your room if I hadn’t dragged you out.”
He doesn’t soften at the ridiculous nickname. A remnant of their childhood, when his artistic talent only consisted of drawing birds. Sparrows in particular, because he’d watch them from the window every morning, wishing he could fly away with them. Wondering what it’d be like to feel the wind rush past him, look down on the world below.
Besides, he didn’t have a problem with sulking in his room with a glass of wine and his sketchbook. Rumi might tease him for being such a shut-in, but he enjoyed his alone time. In fact, that was his favorite activity, and the fact that he was being pulled away from said activity, and for something this ridiculous and spontaneous, was bothersome.
He doesn’t respond to Rumi’s comment, instead studying their surroundings. The compound that they’d been directed to after signing in at the gate was massive, with tall stone walls disappearing into the distance and the wild forest to their backs. Whether the idea was to keep people out or trap them inside , Keigo wasn’t too sure, but he wasn’t too keen on finding out.
In front of them towered a traditional Japanese manor that rivaled the size of some of the buildings on campus, with its large sloping roofs and an engawa that wrapped around the entire front with a platform set in the middle, elaborately carved doors hiding its secrets within.
Filling in on all sides of him and Rumi were students around their age, donning the same blank white masks with nothing but two eye holes and a thin slit to breath out of that they’d been given. A way for them to remain anonymous or, rather, for them all to understand how insignificant their lives were to the members of the League.
Keigo, fortunately, hadn’t had much interaction with the League, a premiere “social” club here at Imperial University. The university itself was particularly exclusive - less than 1% of applicants were admitted each year, unless you had the right connections or incredibly deep pockets - and the five members that made up the League ran everything, on and off campus, despite the fact that they were students there themselves.
It was even rumored that they all had ties to the yakuza, though it was less of a rumor and more of a truth that no one dared talk about, unless they wanted to turn up missing or spend their lives working behind the register of a konbini.
But with each passing moment, he had a feeling, dread curdling in his gut, that his luck was about to change.
The doors to the engawa open with a flourish, effectively hushing all conversation down below, five figures sauntering out of the manor’s depths like divine beings looking out over their subjects. Though you could never tell from the grotesque masks they wore to cover their own faces. The five horsemen of the apocalypse, as far as Keigo was concerned.
The one in the middle, holding a baseball bat over one shoulder with an air of nonchalance that didn’t match the setting and a black mask with glowing red eyes, could only be Tomura Shigaraki - Death. The destruction of life, and also the League’s founder. Though calm and collected on the outside, he was a brilliant strategist and a downright terrifying enemy to have, if the rumors were anything to go by. When they say he ruled the school, they meant it. His uncles were yakuza royalty and his entire college experience was meant to prepare him to take their place in an empire of blood and violence.
To his immediate left, a smaller figure with disheveled blond buns twirled a dagger in each hand. Even without the white mask with sharp fangs and splatters of fake blood, or what Keigo hoped was fake blood, he knew it had to be Toga Himiko - War. The embodiment of conflict and bloodshed. She was also the youngest of the group, a first year, the only female member, and a certifiable psychopath. She apparently had a thing for making people bleed, and reveled in turf wars that occasionally broke out with the surrounding yakuza factions. Just looking at her made Keigo’s skin crawl.
The two on the outer edges of the group were most likely Shuichi Iguchi, or Spinner, and Jin Bubaigawara, also known as Twice. In their little band of crazies, they were the embodiments of Famine and Conquest - starving the weakness from their ranks and multiplying their power all in the name of the group. Spinner, his mask matching Shigaraki’s with glowing green eyes instead of red, had a pair of nunchuks that he was twirling around absently while Jin, in a simple gray and black mask that covered his entire head, was caressing a chain wrapped around his shoulders.
That meant that the figure on Shigaraki’s immediate right must be Touya Todoroki, another yakuza prince and the craziest motherfucker to ever walk the face of the earth, if the hushed stories that Keigo had overheard held any truth. He was wearing a mask of intricate blue flames with glowing turquoise eyes staring out over them as if they were little more than ants beneath his boot. Elaborate tattoos covered every inch of visible skin, from his wrists to where they disappeared under the sleeves of his tight, black tshirt, appearing again at his collar and wrapping around his neck. If he wasn’t so terrifying, Keigo may have been curious at how delicate the line work really was, how the patterns all blended into a canvas of artwork sketched into his skin.
Not that he’d ever get, or want, the chance to find out.
Where the other four were dictated by their specific roles in the group, Touya was a wild card. If Keigo had to classify him, he’d be Catastrophe, destroying everything in his path like a raging forest fire.
Despite holding the same rank in the Japanese underground as Tomura, poised to take over for the Todoroki crime family, he seemed entirely too happy with taking his orders from the leader of their little group. As long as those orders let him flex his raw strength and pummel someone in the ground, that is.
For a moment, Todoroki’s head tilts to the side, and Keigo swears he’s looking right at him, though he can’t be sure from the way his eyes are hidden in matching blue voids. It’s enough for him to break out in a cold sweat, mouth drying and every atom in his body telling him to run .
He heaves in a shaky breath, shuffling from one foot to another. In that instant, Todoroki rolls his shoulders and looks away.
Stop being so paranoid, Keigo. He wasn’t looking at you.
All the murmuring around them comes to a halt when a deep, robotic voice speaks over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen. We welcome you to the annual League initiation night. Before we begin, know that, if you are not willing to put your life on the line for the chance to join our prestigious group, please exit out the gate to your right.”
Keigo is stunned for all of two seconds by the ridiculousness of it all before he notices a handful of people leaving their places and disappearing through the gate. Maybe a dozen or so at most.
He turns to Rumi, carefully keeping his voice low while expressly showing his dissent. “ What the actual fuck, Ru,” he hisses.
He was accustomed to the crazy ideas and incidents that Rumi got herself caught up in from time to time. He’d always been right there with her to bandage wounds or sit in the emergency room waiting area for her to be discharged, or provide a slightly-guilty alibi whenever she snuck out of the house.
This , however, was on a whole other level. He was supposed to…put his life on the line? For what? A fun night? Some demented game? A membership into a group he didn’t even want to touch with a ten-foot pole? As if.
He can tell from the way she flinches that she actually does feel genuinely bad. “Sorry, Kei. You can leave, if you want.”
He swallows down the fear crawling up his throat. Physically, leaving would be easy. Leaving is what he should do. All he had to do was walk out that gate, and he’d never have to face these people again. He could go home and open a bottle of sweet white, or even spend a few hours in the studio, finishing up his project for Tsunagu’s color theory class that was due next week.
However, he can’t, in good conscience, leave Rumi to her own devices. Not when he’d promised her and, more importantly, her parents that he would be there to protect her from…well, herself. A full time job, if he was being honest, and one he was wholly unprepared and unqualified for, especially in a situation such as this. Yet, he stayed, feet planted in the grass, begging the nauseous feeling in his stomach to let up.
Keigo gazes longingly at the iron gate as it swings shut, the resounding clang as it locks in place like a proverbial nail in his coffin. There was no turning back now. He had to survive whatever fucked up game these monsters had come up with for this year’s initiation, while making sure Rumi didn’t get in too deep herself.
Then, he could retreat back to the dorms, and forget tonight ever happened.
“Congratulations, remaining contestants. This year’s initiation will be a game of cat and mouse.” Fear, heavy and palpable, sank into his very bones. It didn’t take a genius to understand what game they were playing, given the weapons the members of the League were holding so casually. “You will be hunted down by our founding members. If you manage to survive past the half hour mark without their weapon of choice touching you, you will be invited to become a member of the League. You are permitted to inflict violence on the members in any way you deem fit, if you can.”
Throughout the entire announcement, members of the League stare down at them, barely reacting at all as tension seeps from every masked body down below, filling the space with a mix of terror and excitement. They’re all eerily still, like statues of the ancient world - gods encased in stonework that the rest of the world would marvel at.
If the circumstances were any different, the scene would make a beautiful painting. If painting humans didn’t make him want to crawl out of his goddamn skin, that is.
“You have a ten minute head start. I suggest you run.”
Just like that, the announcement cuts out. A singular moment passes before the courtyard erupts into pandemonium, contestants darting off in all directions, seeking the safety that the woods would provide. Rumi tugs on his arm, yelling at him to follow, before darting off straight into the trees, yet Keigo’s feet remain glued to the ground. His eyes are locked onto the five figures standing watch over them.
Blue, the shade of lapis luzali, rich and vibrant, with maybe a touch of turquoise for that hint of brightness, bores into him.
Someone bumps his shoulder and the trance is broken.
With one last look to the balcony, he turns on his heel and starts running. One of the perks of being on the track and field team was that, not only was he fast, he knew how to conserve his energy. He kept the time counting down in the back of his head as he continued at a leisurely pace, hopping over downed tree limbs and maneuvering through the thick brush with only the light of the moon above him. All he had to do was find Rumi and survive for half an hour. He couldn’t imagine it’d be too hard, if he was able to maintain some distance between him and his pursuers, maybe finding someplace for them to hide for the duration of the event.
Well before the ten minute mark, the first announcement rings out from the intercom system. “Contestant 28 has been eliminated.”
Keigo’s heart speeds up in time with his feet as they carry him faster through the trees. It seems like the League didn’t play by their own rules, though he couldn’t say he was surprised.
A twig snaps again to his left but he doesn’t look, just speeding up to a full-out sprint, until the majority of the resulting screams and yelling are far behind him.
He stops in a dense part of the forest, leaves on the branches of trees swaying gently in the wind. The intercom rings out again and again with the numbers of those eliminated. He listens only in case he catches Rumi’s number - 73. So far, it seems she’s evaded the League. Keigo hopes it stays that way.
A scream sounds from his left, followed by a thud of a blunt object hitting its mark. They’re getting way too close for comfort.
He looks up at the trees, debating his options. Finding a low branch, he pulls himself up into the relative safety of an oak tree, backing as far into the branches as he can. He doesn’t dare move, barely breathes , as glowing red eyes emerge from the undergrowth, stalking through the trees with his baseball bat, shiny and wet, dragging on the ground right under where Keigo sits.
Shigaraki hesitates for a moment before continuing on to his left. Keigo watches him go, holding his breath until he disappears from sight, letting out a shaky breath.
A twig snaps directly underneath him. He almost loses his footing as he looks down and stares directly into blue the likes of which he’s never seen before. Todoroki’s mask is even more stunning up close, glowing like an ethereal beacon in the never-ending darkness. Nausea floods his mouth, threatening to spill from his gut.
Danger, his mind screams. He’s in danger and he’s stuck in the worst possible place he can be.
Subtly surveying his surroundings while keeping an eye on the figure below, who still hasn’t moved from where he’s staring up at him, he tries to come up with an escape. The trees are thick here, branches winding and overlapping. Maybe, he can use that to his advantage.
“Why don’t you come down from there, pretty bird?”
The gravelly rasp of his voice from behind the mask stuns Keigo for a second before he comes to his senses. Escape. That’s right. He has to escape from those blue eyes and find Rumi.
He estimates there to be about fifteen minutes left. They’re practically at the halfway mark now. If he can just get away, get out of Todoroki’s sight, he’s sure he can manage to survive the rest of the time.
Eyeing a branch to his left that should be within range if he times his jump right, he braces himself and moves before giving Todoroki time to react. The branch is a little further than he’d thought but he manages to grab onto it by the skin of his teeth. The tough bark scrapes his arms as he holds on for dear life, pulling himself up -
He yelps as his ankle is grabbed in a firm hold and he’s yanked bodily from the tree. He lands on his ass, hard, coughing as the breath is stolen right from his lungs. Everything goes blurry for a moment as he lays back against the cold forest floor.
Todoroki suddenly appears in his vision, looming over him like his own personal executioner. He bends down and places his hands on his knees, head tilting to the side, black fringe falling over his mask. His knuckles are caked in dried blood. A heady combination of nausea and dread floods Keigo’s mouth and he has to swallow back the bile that threatens to come up.
“You know, it’s rude to run away when I asked you to come down so nicely.” Todoroki spits the last couple words at him with a vicious bark, like his frustration is winning out against his calm facade.
“Get the fuck away from me.”
Keigo is not the kind of person to get angry. On the contrary, he’d become an expert in keeping those kinds of destructive emotions buried deep, where no one could see them. Where no one could exploit his weaknesses. Keeping himself in control wasn’t too difficult when he had his routine. Between his studies, his art, and the seemingly random but planned outings with Rumi and their small band of close friends, there was no time to let those emotions fester. There were no opportunities for difficulties to arise, surprises to catch him off guard.
Tonight , however, with this goddamned initiation, was not part of his routine. Todoroki does not belong anywhere near his perfectly manicured life.
So, part of him snaps, anxiety and fear and frustration mixing into a palette of rage that latches onto the only other person in his vicinity. The infuriating monster who thought he could make demands of Keigo, like he was supposed to bend to his will without hesitation.
He curls his leg in towards his chest before kicking it out with all his strength. Todoroki stumbles backwards to try and avoid the hit. Keigo takes the opportunity and scrambles up, breaking into a sprint almost immediately.
Numbers are called but he pays them no mind, focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other, growing the distance between him and Todoroki as fast as he can.
He trips over a branch that’s laying buried in the thick undergrowth. Reaching a hand out, he breaks his fall, hissing at the scrape of his palm against the small pebbles and debris on the ground. Looking back, he’s met with two blue orbs stalking through the trees, heading his way.
“ Fuck. ” Pushing himself back up, he gets his feet beneath him and continues his retreat. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He runs like he’s trying to break a personal record, like the opponent is right on his heels and his points will put his team over.
The adrenaline kicks in, fueling his drive to keep moving forward, the soles of his running shoes pounding against the dirt. He doesn’t stop, chest heaving and sweat trickling down his face, until he’s forced to. Literally.
A high stone wall, marking the border to the League’s compound, looms menacingly in front of him, stretching in either direction as far as he can see. He frantically looks from left to right, trying to decide where to turn.
On his left, there’s almost a path set against the wall, which would make running a whole hell of a lot easier, but there’d be nowhere to hide. On his right, the dense undergrowth continues, giving him ample opportunities to hide as long as -
Suddenly, he’s being slammed into the wall from behind. His mask scrapes against the rocks and he already knows he’s going to have bruises tomorrow. A warm body presses up against him, making it impossible to move. A hand wraps around the back of his neck, forcing his face to the side.
“Got somewhere to be, pretty bird?”
Goosebumps appear on his skin as the gravelly voice speaks right into his ear, hot breath skimming the back of his neck. Something that’s not nausea swirls in his gut, foreign and dangerous. A puff of breath leaves his lips, willing his inhales and exhales to return to normal, despite his chest currently being crushed against the stone.
Pretty bird. How utterly ridiculous and absolutely humiliating. The kind of nickname you’d call someone you were infatuated with, attracted to. The kind that would be whispered during an intimate moment, and there will surely be no intimate moments between him and the savage at his back.
Not that he has an issue with men being attracted to other men. Some of the nicest people he’d ever met, ever become close to, were gay. That just wasn’t his orientation. It couldn’t be. He was straight . He had to be straight. He had to be normal.
“ Don’t call me that, ” he spits.
“Why not?” Todoroki mocks, breath tickling his skin as he leans further into his space, pressing his entire body up against Keigo until he can feel every twitch of muscle, every curve and contour of Todoroki’s body against his. “You were just like a bird up there, escaping to the trees. Such a beautiful sight. Makes me want to clip those wings of yours and keep you all to myself.”
Focusing on the cool stone scraping against the cheap plastic of his mask, he grits his teeth, words dripping like venom on his tongue. “I’m not interested in whatever fucked up fantasy you wanna play at. Just let me go.”
He thrashes against his captor, who doesn’t budge an inch. The hand holding his neck disappears for a moment before both his hands are constricted behind his back, held in a vice grip. When the hand appears back on his neck, a thumb slowly strokes up and down his skin.
That not nausea sensation coils in his gut again.
Todoroki clicks his tongue, an appreciative hum falling from his lips. “My, my. Seems like you’ve got some fire in you after all. Jackpot.”
What the fuck.
What’s that supposed to mean?
“I said. Let. Go.” Keigo wills his voice not to shake, tightening his muscles against the imposing threat. Rage as red as carmine clouding his sight.
“No.”
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘no’? Just fucking…tap me out of this fucking nightmare or whatever so I can leave.”
He never swears, but with every moment stuck here with this monster at his back, he loses control of himself and that calm facade he wears like a shield. Little by little, he can feel that armor crumbling away, revealing the vicious monster beneath it. A monster that should be locked away to never see the light of day again. A monster that didn’t deserve to take up space inside his head.
“You know, most people beg for their lives right about now.”
“I’m not most people,” he spits back. Internally, he’s screaming at himself to shut the fuck up.
He just needs to shut up and go back to the calm and collected Keigo Takami that has kept him alive for so long. Back to his routine, to his oil paints and quiet studios. To his monotony and safety. Running through the forest and being chased down like prey is not something he should be entertaining, no matter how much Rumi wants to pull him along.
This isn’t him.
“No, you’re not most people, are you?” Todoroki murmurs. There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, mixed with a little bit of intrigue. “Such a treasure.”
His breaths are coming quicker and quicker now, yellow spots dancing behind his eyes. Out of options and out of ideas, he relaxes his muscles, all fight ebbing out of him. “Just…let me go,” he tiredly murmurs. “Please.”
After a tense moment, Todoroki silent at his back, the grip on his hands loosens and the body pressed up against him backs off ever so slightly. Keigo shakes out his hands, willing the feeling back into them. When he turns, Todoroki is staring at him with his head tilted. Or, at least, Keigo assumes he’s staring. Kind of hard to tell with the mask and all.
“Are you going to eliminate me or what?”
“Depends.” A headache starts to form between Keigo’s eyes at the teasing lilt to Todoroki’s voice. “What’s in it for me?”
“E-excuse me?”
“This may come as a surprise to you, birdy, but I don’t do anything out of the goodness of my heart. That shriveled up and burned a long time ago. So, tell me.” He steps closer, crowding Keigo up against the wall again, and suddenly he’s right back where he started. “What’s. In it. For me.”
Keigo knows he should just take his chances and run. Todoroki’s not holding onto him anymore, and he could easily push him away and get a head start. But he watches as the blue of Todoroki’s mask seems to ebb and flow, swirling in a hypnotizing pattern that has him anchored to the ground, nothing but static filling his head.
Striking blue colliding with black.
A long, spindly finger tilts his chin up. Keigo opens his mouth to speak but the words catch in his throat. “Well? I’m waiting.”
Keigo swallows past a lump in his throat. “What do you want?”
Todoroki chuckles, low and gravelly. Keigo finds himself leaning in towards the sound. “Are you sure you want to know?”
The traitorous side of Keigo’s brain, the one he keeps locked behind art exhibits and charming smiles aimed at the pretentious agents and collectors his adoptive father continues to send his way, screams yes. The small flame still somehow alight at the core of his being begs for release from its confines, searching for a deviation from the dull existence he’s built himself. Waiting for a splash of color on the pristine blank canvas he wears as a shield.
“No, not really,” he says instead.
Todoroki hums, disappointed. “Too bad. We could’ve had so much fun.” He leans in, so close now that Keigo can feel his breath fan across his skin despite the two masks separating them. “You look like you need someone to take away that precious control you hold onto so tightly. Someone to hold that leash of yours, show you exactly how good it feels to be owned.”
Fingertips skim up and down his arm and Keigo’s brain goes fuzzy, the screams and constant announcements ringing out over the intercom dimming to a low buzz. He feels like he’s floating up above the clouds, blue eclipsing dull gray, before he plummets back down to earth.
He inhales cracked breaths and coughs at the sudden rush of air, tasting the metallic tang of blood and remnants of cigarette smoke on his tongue. “I told you I’m not interested,” he breathes. “I’m straight.” Whether he’s trying to prove it to himself or Todoroki, he’s not too sure anymore.
Todoroki barks out a laugh. Keigo flinches at the sudden outburst. “Yeah, sure you are.”
“I’m being serious!”
Another breath across his face and he nearly retches out of his skin. Out of his fucked-up brain that still feels like it’s rebooting back to its factory settings.
He needs to get out of this hellish situation.
With Todoroki caught off guard, he elbows him hard in the side, taking off in a sprint when the bastard goes down, clutching his stomach.
Keigo doesn’t get too far at all when he’s stopped in his tracks by that same fucking voice. One he knows will be starring in his nightmares for weeks to come.
“I take it you’re not worried about your friend?”
Rumi.
He realizes at that moment that he hasn’t been paying attention to the numbers being called out around them for a while now. Did she get eliminated? Was she still in the game? Did one of those bastards hurt her?
He spins on his heel, stalking forward and grabbing the front of Todoroki’s shirt, slamming him up against the rock wall. “Where the fuck is she?”
A hand comes up, threading itself through Keigo’s hair and pulling on the strands, tilting his head up in the process. He winces at the sharp sting. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
His grip tightens on the black cotton underneath his hand. Keigo didn’t care if he was insane, going up against someone as certifiably batshit crazy as Touya Todoroki. He didn’t care that he was fighting fire with fire. No one messed with the ones he loved.
“Don't make me repeat myself.”
Todoroki suddenly lifts a hand and pushes his mask up off his face. His eyes are wide, manic, excited and the most brilliant blue Keigo’s ever seen in his life, rivaling the bright flames of his mask. A blue that almost glows in the moonlight, striking against the pitch black of his hair.
Lapis lazuli has nothing on Touya Todoroki’s eyes.
“What happens if you repeat yourself, huh?” A feral grin splits his face. Keigo takes a step back and Todoroki follows, not giving him a single inch. “Tell me. I just have to know.”
Another step back, followed by another step forward.
“Stop!” Keigo puts his hands out, desperate for space that Todoroki seems unwilling to give him. As if to prove his point, the asshole bumps right into his hands, muscles flexing beneath his fingers.
“C’mon, birdy. Just tell me what happens. I’m so curious.” His eyes open impossibly wider until Keigo can see himself reflected in his irises.
“Just…stop for a minute,” he pleads.
The answering tut echoes through the air as Todoroki finally comes to a stop, crossing his hands over his chest. His head tilts in the unnerving way of his, eyes lazily traveling up and down his body. “You really need to loosen up, dove.”
Keigo bites his tongue, holds himself back from asking what the fuck all the nicknames are for.
The fact that they’re so close to the names Rumi’s been calling him for years doesn’t escape his notice. It’s not like there’s any way that Todoroki could know about his proclivity to paint birds of all shapes and sizes. He couldn’t possibly know how badly Keigo wishes he could see from a bird’s eye view, far above the clouds and out of reach of the ground below.
The coincidence, however, was mildly upsetting and did absolutely nothing to calm the strange feeling swirling low in his gut.
“I need to find my friend so I can go home.”
Touya stares and Keigo stares straight back, not backing down despite every muscle in his body straining, preparing for retreat. After a tense stand off, Touya rolls his eyes and stalks past him into the dense trees.
Keigo watches him go for a moment, shaky breaths condensing the inside of his mask, the frantic beat of his heart roaring in the silence of the night.
“Are you coming or what?” Todoroki calls over his shoulder.
With another split second of hesitation, Keigo follows after, legs wobbling beneath him as the aftershocks of adrenaline work through his system. “Are you taking me to Rumi?” he asks as he catches up, matching Todoroki’s pace at his side.
Todoroki comes to a stop, tilting his head in Keigo’s direction. “Why should I? You didn’t seem too keen on paying me back for being such a good sport.”
“A good sport? Are you fucking kidding me?!” Keigo seethes, ripping his mask off and plowing past the voice inside his head telling him to stand down, back off, sink back into the shadows.
Todoroki doesn’t seem too surprised by who he sees underneath the mask. Then again, Keigo is just a stranger to him. They’d never interacted before today - didn’t even belong to the same programs - so of course he wouldn’t recognize him.
“Watch it, birdy. I might like that attitude of yours, but I’m only so patient.” Two fingers grab his chin, squeezing as his head is tilted up, again. “If you were anyone else, you’d be on your way to a hospital.”
“Well fuck, aren’t I so goddamn lucky?”
Abort, abort. Stop fucking talking, you absolute moron.
There’s a single moment where Todoroki’s eyes widen, pupils dilating and contracting in rapid succession. The fingers at his chin tighten and Keigo braces himself for the strike that’s bound to come, cursing himself for losing control one too many times.
Instead of a strike, those fingers leave his chin and travel down. A large hand gently closing around his throat. Despite the threat to his ability to breathe, Keigo can’t help but think that Todoroki would make a perfect pianist. He can almost see it - those elegant fingers swiping over the keys as he plays a beautiful melody, haunting and ethereal.
Those long fingers tighten around him little by little until he’s gasping for air, blue eyes piercing him through with their intensity.
“ I can’t wait to ruin you .”
Despite the danger, despite the fact that this isn’t him , that he can’t be here like this, Keigo’s eyes flutter shut at the words whispered between them. The rest of the forest fades away. His limbs feel numb, like he’s just a body being held up by strings and strong hands, Todoroki as the puppeteer.
It isn’t until Todoroki leans in, nose brushing his, that reality crashes over him like a bucket of ice cold water. Keigo’s eyes snap open to find him impossibly close, too fucking close , and he pushes back against his chest so hard he falls backward, landing ass first in the dirt.
A flicker of something that looks a lot like pain flits across Todoroki’s face before his features go completely blank. He pulls his mask over his face again, pulling a phone out of his pocket and pressing a few buttons before he looks back down at Keigo. Over the intercom, Keigo’s number rings out, a sign that he’s been eliminated.
“Exit’s that way.” Todoroki tilts his head to the left, in the direction they were just headed, “Come find me when you work out your fucking issues, Keigo Takami.” He turns on his heel and stalks back towards the dense forest, leaving Keigo with one burning question.
How did he know my name?