Chapter Text
Akihiko is still bruised. The bruises are few and precise, like pointed words written on his skin. I’m leaving, they say, and I’m sorry, and we aren’t anything. He brushes his fingers over them every day, pressing until they ache, and wishes they were on his knuckles instead.
If his knuckles were bruised and scabbed, at least he’d have proof that he put up a good fight.
But no, Suou had left him few reminders of their fight. Could it even be called a fight, really? Akihiko had given his all, incensed and terrified, but even when his fist had miraculously connected he hadn’t managed to crack Suou’s mask. All Suou had needed was a couple of well-placed blows and Akihiko was beaten down, beaten unconscious, unable to do a single fucking thing as Suou walked away. If he’d been stronger maybe he could have made him stay.
Now all he has are bruises that prove his inadequacy, and even they will fade.
The nib of his pencil splinters against the page. “Shit.”
“Nirei-chan?”
Akihiko glances up at his friends and then hurriedly back down at the page. The concern in their expressions is too much. They lost Suou too, didn't they? And yet everybody is treating Akihiko like he's something different, something fragile.
He forces a smile. “Sorry, my pencil broke!”
Kiryuu hums quietly, but Sakura isn't so easily put off. His neutral expression pulls towards a frown, foot skidding across the worn classroom floor to tap the side of Akihiko's shoe. Any other time Akihiko would be delighted by the voluntary touch, but right now it's exactly what he's trying to avoid.
“Oi—”
“Did you say you asked around Keisei Street, Sakura-san?” Akihiko says loudly. “They'll contact you if they hear anything, right?” He looks at his page, the list of places they've searched for Suou steadily growing, but can still feel Sakura's gaze on him.
“Yeah,” Sakura says eventually. “They’ll let me know.”
Akihiko makes a small mark with the broken pencil lead. “Okay. So we've contacted all the major gangs we're friendly with. That covers a pretty good portion of space around Makochi, but there's still more ground we can cover. Suou-san is pretty well-known, someone must have seen him, must know something.”
They’ve been looking for a couple days now, sending out feelers through the Furin grapevine, looking for some hint, some sign of where Suou went. So far they’ve discovered nothing. For all intents and purposes, Suou has vanished off the face of the earth as if he was never here.
But he was here. He was here, from the very first day—a safe figure to hide behind, a reassuring presence, always ready with a smile or a mildly-spoken tease. The soft tea scent of him lingers in Akihiko's memory, so familiar that he can almost feel it, like if he opened his mouth and breathed just right he'd taste it on his tongue. Suou was here, he was real, everything they went through together was real, and—
“Nirei-kun?” It’s Tsugeura this time, squeezing Akihiko’s shoulder with his broad hand. “Are you okay?”
Akihiko looks up at the concerned faces around him. How are they all so calm? He knows they’re worried too, but their hands don’t shake and their voices are steady. None of them have bloodshot eyes from crying themselves to sleep at night.
Tsugeura’s hand slips away as Akihiko leans forward, hurriedly gathering his things. “I’m fine,” he says with a high-pitched laugh. “Hey, we should really be updating Hiragi-san, shouldn't we? I'll go and find him now.”
They don't stop him from leaving the classroom, though Anzai, startled and concerned, calls after him when they almost collide in the doorway. Akihiko waves a hand in vague response but doesn't stop. It feels better to be moving, acting on the urgent buzz under his skin. It's easier to stop himself from crying again.
He's halfway to the rooftop when Sakura appears at his side, breathless from jogging up the stairs.
“You’re fast when you wanna be,” he mutters.
Akihiko swallows, trying to clear the thickness in his throat. “Not fast enough.” He sucks in a sharp breath. “Sakura-san, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I couldn't stop him, I—”
He stops midstride and mid-sentence, halted by Sakura's hand on his arm. Sakura's grip is firm but not unkind. It’s hard to be glad for friendly touch, even from Sakura, when it just reminds Akihiko of Suou’s gentle hands. Not that they were gentle at all, the last time they touched him.
“Not your fault,” Sakura says. “Don’t think any of us could've stopped him alone.”
Akihiko's nose stings. “You could have.”
He shakes his head and pulls away to climb the rest of the stairs. Sakura rejoins him after a moment, his expression distant with thought. Akihiko is glad for the silence, glad for the burn in his legs, glad for anything that keeps his thoughts from spilling out of him in embarrassing sobs.
They find Hiragi chatting with a couple of other third years on the roof. Akihiko hovers, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, but it doesn’t take long for Hiragi to spot them and step aside.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Hiragi-san,” Akihiko starts, and then pauses uncertainly. He’d only seized on Hiragi as a good distraction, he doesn’t actually have any real updates to give him. “We—sorry, we haven’t found him yet.”
Hiragi raises his eyebrows. “Why’re you apologising?”
“He keeps doin’ that,” Sakura mutters. “I told him not to.”
Heat flushes up Akihiko’s neck, his notebook creasing in his hand. “Well, I’m the one who saw Suou-san last,” he says, unable to keep the clipped tone out of his voice. Seeing the way Hiragi’s expression flickers, he hurries on. “I, um, I started keeping a list of places we’ve checked and people we’ve spoken to, so we don’t waste resources doubling back on ourselves. And I thought maybe if we adjust the patrol routes we might be able to…”
To Hiragi’s credit, he listens carefully, leaning over Akihiko’s notebook with a thoughtful frown. He agrees to all of Akihiko’s suggestions, even going so far as to text a couple of people right away to make patrol changes. When Akihiko runs out of steam, though, Hiragi gives him a thoughtful look.
“Hey, listen.”
Akihiko’s heart sinks. “We have to find Suou-san,” he blurts. “We can’t stop looking yet, it’s only been a couple of days!”
Hiragi exchanges a silent look with Sakura. “No,” he says slowly, “we’re not stopping. He’s one of us, we won’t give up without a fight. But—” He rubs the back of his neck, gaze shifting to the empty sky in thought. “Look, as much as we want Suou back, we can’t work miracles. It’s not like he’s a missing person, it was his own choice to leave.” His sharp gaze lingers over Akihiko’s bruised face. “And in the way he did, too.”
“But—” Akihiko grits his teeth. “This isn’t like him, he wouldn’t—”
“But he did,” Hiragi says quietly. “And we don’t know his reasons, not really. We’ll chase after him, look for him, make sure he knows we’re all here for him, sure. But even if we do find him, we can’t make him do anything.” He rests a hand on Akihiko’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Sometimes the best thing you can do is let someone go, give them space to work through whatever they gotta work through.”
Akihiko can’t speak after that. Hiragi pats him again, and all he can do is stand there mutely as Sakura picks up the slack and finishes the conversation, their words pattering against Akihiko’s ears like distant rain on a window.
He doesn’t want to give Suou space, he wants Suou to come back. He wants Suou to come back and apologise and lay his fingers on Akihiko’s bruises, wants him to explain, to let Akihiko in so he can help instead of standing useless on the outside.
“... Nirei.” Sakura’s voice finally cuts through the storm of Akihiko’s thoughts. He blinks to find Hiragi gone and Sakura looking right at him, hands in his pockets and his eyes quiet and direct. “C’mon, let’s go home.”
They walk as far as they can together, shoulders hunched against the cutting autumn wind. Akihiko watches it whip fallen leaves into the darkening sky and bites the inside of his cheek until it bleeds.
Sakura scrubs a hand through his hair, pausing awkwardly at their usual parting spot. “You, uh, you want me to walk you home?”
Sakura’s being thoughtful, but it sits in the back of Akihiko’s throat like acid. He wouldn’t have to offer if Suou was still here.
“No,” Akihiko rasps. “I’m okay.” He pauses, blood on his tongue, and a shudder of feeling runs through him. “Sakura-san, it’s not right, he should be here, he—”
Sakura’s hands are fists by his sides. “I know.”
Clenching his jaw, Akihiko turns on an impulse and reaches for him, holding onto the lean strength of Sakura’s arm with both hands as he rests his forehead against the side of his shoulder. It’s not quite a hug, because if Akihiko allows himself that he knows he’ll never be able to get himself together again, but it’s something. Sakura’s goodness is comforting.
For a long, quiet moment, they just stand there.
“It, uh,” Sakura mutters eventually. “It’ll be okay. We’ll… figure it out.”
Akihiko smiles, glad that Sakura can’t see the way tears waver in his eyes. “Mhm.” He clears his throat. “See you tomorrow, Sakura-san.”
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
Hearing Sakura repeat it back to him gives Akihiko the strength to pull away, dashing his sleeve over his face. At least Sakura’s not going anywhere. He waves a silent goodbye, and turns to hurry down the road like always.
He’s not going home, but he doesn’t want Sakura to know that.
~
The playground is empty again tonight. Akihiko sits at the bottom of the slide, arms wrapped around his knees and his gaze fixed in place. The wind draws tears from his eyes, but Akihiko only blinks to clear his vision, unwilling to stop watching for even a second.
Suou won’t be here. Akihiko knows that, deep in the cold pit of his stomach, but still he sits and waits until his fingers are numb and his nose is running and the sun sinks below the horizon.
“Where are you?” he mumbles, resting his head on his knees and breathing into the tiny space his body creates. “Come back. I’ll fight harder this time.”
The cold cuts through Akihiko’s jacket, but he just shivers and hunches in a little tighter. He doesn’t want to go home yet, he wants to sit here and imagine that the brush of the wind is a gentle hand in his hair, the rustling of the leaves a quiet, familiar voice.
He wonders whether Suou is watching him now. Akihiko hopes so, hopes that the pathetic curl of his shoulders is visible to Suou’s observant eye.
Gripping himself with white-knuckled hands, Akihiko shifts until pressure against his bruises makes him wince through his teeth.
Maybe if he presses them hard enough, they’ll stay on his skin forever.