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The first time Kurai knew his name, it was fundamentally an obligation. The dignified Minister of the Youkai Ministry of course wouldn’t let a potential danger be his son’s homeroom teacher, therefore demands a thorough background check of this particular individual. As far as Kurai concerned, there were two things: this pathetic human being has the most astronomical onmyoji’s exorcism power and his name is Abe Haruaki.
The first time he actually had to spell the appellation out was when this pipsqueak grabbed him by the collar with his skinny twig arm, both worried and enraged that Kurai and the maids escorted Rensuke-same back to his estate.
“We know everything about you, Abe no Seimei’s descendant, Abe Haruaki,” he taunted.
The sensation of air grating his windpipe as sounds rolled off the tip of his tongue wasn’t something to be savoured. The addressee's response to the call of his name wasn't anything close to pleasant either, though, this was exactly where the fun was. Haruaki’s dread and shock were written all over his face upon knowing his little secret was no longer one, uncertain of what Kurai would do with this information whereas Kurai took delight in the human teacher's plights.
They were adversaries so naturally, there’s no room for niceness or empathy. When push came to shove, tables turned and the odds were settled, Abe Haruaki was cheered beyond words by his students and those who were persuaded by his determination, but the name of this petty tactician just left a foul taste in both Kurai's mouth and mind. It was vexing that he lost, but it was even more vexing that Kurai seemed to be the only opposer to the unfailingly loved muse.
That day, the sky was clear, sunny and true to the name of the one who defeated him.
Regarding the combination of embitterment from their last competition and his professionalism, ‘Abe-sensei’ is a sobriquet that creates just the right distance Kurai would like. It doesn’t involve unnecessary dwelling on the past, and it gives him an excuse to not verbally and unremorsefully label the human teacher as an inferior intellect or any moniker equivalent to it. The same logic cannot be applied to the other party because he, of a rare occasion when his brain’s capacity extends beyond personal interests in sailor uniform, does take note of Kurai’s distaste for his surname, thus addresses the Dodomeki as ‘Kurai-san’, but other than that, their reluctance towards each other is mutual.
When they cross paths in the Fox Town, they have exchanged like, 10 sentences and a dozen of them are uttered in a sarcastic and deriding cadence, two of which under their breath and behind the other’s back. After bouts of bickering and a forceful headbutt against one another, they, despite themselves, call a truce.
“Abe-sensei, I apologize for what I said,” he mutters unapologetically.
“I’m sorry too, for saying I prefer Akira-kun,” the human teacher says, concurrently and unwittingly re-opening the wound.
During the scouting and planning process, despite some more lines of mordacious allusion from time to time, the peace is thankfully maintained. Although his initial disinclination remains, Kurai can tell it’s being nipped away, a morsel after another, gradually and inevitably as a foreboding. Is it because these furry appendages flicker excitedly and lean into Kurai’s every touch? Or is it his relief that they manage to rescue Rensuke-sama and a few other students? Or is it quiet and utter gratitude at Haruaki’s decision to not risk hurting him? Strangely, Kurai somewhat understands that psycho doctor’s decision to become beyond despicable and depraved for this particular human teacher.
Because Abe Haruaki is unerringly kind, so much so, he respects and thinks for Kurai’s long buried feelings, he comes up with strategies that underlies safety and fun for the mass, he goes to every length without hesitation if it means to save his students. And because Abe Haruaki is kind, Kurai finally erases that distance he has kept between them by shouting the human teacher’s name with all the might and desperation of someone who couldn’t bear the bereavement of their loved one ever again.
“Haruaki!”
Haruaki doesn’t wake up but Kurai doesn’t stop. He keeps repeating that clepe like a prayer, a mantra, through the mayhem of destroyed properties and possible imminent demise, through the savagery caused by the revenant that lives within the skin of his kin, through the mystique surrounding the fathomless town and the human teacher until he can recognize the one he has despaired to search for.
The spell is broken, the hex is lifted, and the shades of the purest gem and the most rousing sun kindle the eyes of the kindest soul.
“Haruaki…?” He articulates carefully.
The first time Kurai calls him by his first name and is actually heard by the addressee, Abe Haruaki smiles, abashed and beautiful.