isla ୨ৎ

"why do we even have an episode where juleka gets akumatized?" satoru demanded, exaggeratedly pointing at the wide television screen as miraculous: tales of ladybug and cat noir (specifically the reflekta episode) continued to play before you. "we can barely even hear her speak in a regular episode, and now that she's got the confidence to talk after nineteen of them, it's to flex her useless power."

you sat beside him on the floor, your legs crossed as you deliberately avoided looking at the ungraded papers satoru had carelessly scattered across the couch, spilling onto the ground around you.

"stupid juleka," you grumbled in agreement. "could've redeemed herself with a better power."

"this entire show doesn't make any sense," megumi added from somewhere behind you.

you glanced over your shoulder at him, eyes narrowed in offence.

"shut up porcupine," you scoffed, but his gaze was already fixed elsewhere, like he couldn't care less about your reaction, though you knew very well that he did.

megumi, of course, would constantly refuse to watch the show whenever you brought it up, claiming it was too 'unrealistic' for his taste. but despite his complaints, he never left when you and satoru watched it together. instead, he'd stick around, always ready to interrupt with some unsolicited critique, as if his constant commentary was absolutely necessary despite never being asked for.

it was annoying.

he'd scoff, make remarks, and roll his eyes at every plot twist. but you knew that if he had just given the show a chance, he would have been more invested than he'd ever care to admit.

"it's literally a work of fiction, it's not meant to make sense in real life," you added, turning back to the screen and scowling when reflekta began shooting at the heroes and caught the second hero.

"it's delusion," you heard him retort, and then laughed when his mother (who had been silently chopping up vegetables in the kitchen) lightly scolded him.

"megumi, either watch the show silently, or leave," she said, though not unkindly, and you did not need to turn around to sense that megumi was shooting her a glare.

perhaps it wasn't as powerful as the ones he'd give you, yuji, or nobara, for he knew better than to disrespect his own mom.

"no," you heard him respond, sounding defensive and annoyed. "you don't get it. the show's so stupid — how have none of the characters in the show figured their identities out?"

his mom sighed. "i don't know, megumi. i'm not the creator, am i?"

but megumi wasn't done proving his point yet:

"they wear one mask across the eyes and all of a sudden they're a whole different person. why can't they cover their whole face or change their voices? why can't they change their hair colour?"

"he's getting defensive 'cause everyone would recognise him behind a mask," you whispered, leaning closer to satoru so that he could hear you clearly over the sounds of megumi's low complaints and the noise from the television.

the white haired male met your gaze with a bemused smile. "why do you say that?"

you pointed at your own head. "his hair's like a lion's mane —"

"i can hear you," megumi snapped.

"good," you shot back, eyes on the television again.

megumi inhaled sharply, already gearing up for a rebuttal — probably some half-hearted attempt to defend himself or deflect the insult. but before he could get a word out, satoru cut in with a loud, exaggerated gasp.

"wait, wait, shh — this might just be the best part!" he announced, suddenly leaning forwards as if the episode had just taken a groundbreaking turn.

it hadn't.

but the dramatic way he had clapped a hand over his own mouth, eyes wide with feigned anticipation, was enough to make megumi scowl and reluctantly drop whatever argument he was about to start.

"never mind," satoru pouted, leaning back against the foot of the couch again. "i thought she'd redeem herself; how can a supervillain be so weak?"

"she's not weak," megumi grumbled. "ladybug's just dumb."

"ladybug's not dumb!" you responded easily, watching as the character in question tried to make use of her partner who was, more or less, deemed useless now. "her lucky charm gives her unhelpful stuff and she always finds a way to use it. if it were me, i'd just give up."

but megumi did not agree. "she is dumb. she couldn't even figure out cat noir's voice when he turned into another copy of reflekta."

from the kitchen, the faint clinking of dishes with the low hum of the television barely masked the exasperation in mrs fushiguro's voice when she'd started lightly scolding her son again. though quiet, the gentle rise and fall of her tone carried a familiar patience, the kind reserved for conversations she knew would lead nowhere.

megumi was so firm on his stance with this show that you knew her gentle chiding would be of no use. even then, you could appreciate that her gentle scolding had a rhythm to it — an attempt to soften his stubbornness, to nudge him towards keeping an open mind. but even without looking, it was obvious to you that megumi would not listen.

you imagined him sitting up straight, posture tense with the same quiet defiance he always held when faced with opinions that didn't align with his own.

apparently he was just always right.

she gave up after some time, which made sense. you had predicted it; you could tell that satoru had predicted it too.

the man next to you let out a laugh.

"look, megumi, i can convince you that this show's pretty realistic," he'd said, with an air of confidence that you couldn't quite relate to.

it had piqued the interest of everyone in the room, including megumi's mom, who had slowed the sharpening of the large kitchen knife just to watch curiously as satoru pulled out his black blindfold from the mess of papers behind him.

what is he doing? you thought to yourself, as the odd male had begun tying it around his eyes, resulting in his white hair sticking up like pineapple leaves.

but before anyone could utter a word, he had turned to you with a lazy grin.

"if i put this on, would you be able to tell that it's me?" he asked, as the sound of megumi's scoff travelled around the open space.

you gave it a thought, picturing megumi's visible annoyance at your answer, and then shook your head with a smile. "no, i wouldn't —"

"you're both dumb —"

"— megumi," his mom was quick to rebuke.

just as the heated debate began to start again, the sharp chime of the doorbell rang through the house, cutting through the voices in the living room. it was a brief sound, one that should have gone unnoticed with how engaged everyone was, but for some reason, it seemed louder than it should have been.

the steady rhythm of megumi's mother's knife sharpening slowed as she glanced towards the entrance, her brow lifting slightly in mild surprise. the quiet hum of the television carried on, and she exhaled, wiping her hands on a nearby dish towel before glancing up at satoru.

"satoru, can you get that?" she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

satoru, still reclined against the couch, shook his head immediately.

"i can't," he said, matter-of-factly. "i need to witness every second of reflekta's performance to properly judge her weak powers. otherwise, it's not a fair trial."

she sighed — long-suffering, patient — as though she had heard this kind of excuse before. without another word, she made a move towards the door, her footsteps light against the wooden flooring.

"i'll do it, mom," megumi offered, sliding off the stool he'd been sitting on.

"no, not you," she immediately responded, waving a hand at him as she walked around the breakfast table to make her way out of the open kitchen. "or you," she added, shooting you a sharp look as the person behind the door began knocking harder and harder each time. the polite chime of the bell had been forgotten, replaced by an urgency that made the walls tremble slightly under the force of it.

"i didn't even say anything!" you frowned, disheartened.

"why can't i answer it?" said megumi, brows furrowed in annoyance.

"because i know you," she answered simply. "whenever you're even the slightest bit annoyed, you say whatever comes to mind, and i can't deal with upset strangers again — yes, i'm here, i'm here!"

with another sigh, she yanked the door open, already bracing herself for whatever disaster awaited. the sight behind it, however, had her blinking in disbelief.

and you, still sat by the tv, barely stifled a snort.

mrs daphne, your middle-aged and unfriendly neighbour, stood on the doorstep, her robe — once a pristine pastel pink — now covered in dirt, leaves, and what looked suspiciously like scrambled eggs. strands of her tightly permed hair had broken free, sticking out in wild tufts, and her face had been twisted in a scowl so deep, it could have curdled milk.

but the true spectacle had been the raccoon she held aloft by its tail, its beady eyes gleaming with mischief, little paws still clutching what appeared to be a pilfered croissant. the creature hung limply, swinging slightly in the air, as if entirely unbothered by the furious woman holding it hostage.

"oh, mrs daphne," mrs fushiguro gasped, staring at the furious woman before her in awe. "i — what...?"

but the woman's eyes, bloodshot, were darting from you to megumi and back again.

still, megumi's mother had been polite enough to calmly ask what had happened, and whether she needed to be invited inside:

"we could clean you up?" she suggested, her hand over her mouth in visible shock. "but... can i just ask... what happened?"

"i'll tell you what didn't happen," satoru intervened, brows raised seriously. "reflekta."

megumi's mom shot him a sharp look over her shoulder; satoru had turned his attention back to the tv as you bit back another snort.

it hadn't helped that the racoon had begun hissing loudly.

"i didn't know we had racoons in the neighbourhood," you commented innocently.

mrs daphne did not look the slightest bit pleased. her face had contorted in a way that, though familiar, looked like she had just soiled herself in public.

"i seriously doubt that," she'd stated, the smoke practically flying out of both her ears. "which one of you did this? i will —"

"can't accuse us without any proof," megumi interrupted her, scowling once his eyes had landed on the way she was holding the racoon.

it was you.

both of you, actually.

mrs daphne had held demon dog hostage, long enough to be late for the vet appointment the other day, and megumi had not taken that lightly.

the years of the ongoing ping-pong game of pranks between the two of you and mrs daphne had only fuelled his desire to get back at her, and with the help of yourself, the two of you had used the very racoon (that toji had been tired of dealing with it digging through the trash) to set it on mrs daphne's weekly tea party. 

and you'd say that the plan had worked, judging by the dishevelled look she had rocked up to the fushiguros' door with.

"i don't need proof to know that it was you two devils," said mrs daphne, her eyes so wide, her pupils had almost become non-existent.

"we're not devils," you scoffed.

"yeah, you look like you got electrocuted," megumi added helpfully.

you glanced over your shoulder at your friend, raising a brow. the irony was almost laughable — his own hair perpetually stuck up at odd angles, defying gravity in a way that made him look like he'd lost a battle with an electrical socket himself.

"okay, i appreciate the help, porcupine, but you're embarrassing me," you muttered, avoiding mrs daphne's glare.

"megumi — no," his mom had immediately intervened, glancing back at her son as though she knew what his reaction to your comment would be.

she was right; megumi was going to shoot another insult back at you, uncaring of the fact that daphne was watching the entire thing, but at the firm look on his mother's gentle face, he reluctantly relented, choosing to shoot you a glower instead.

she turned back to your neighbour with a sigh.

"that's a really serious accusation, mrs daphne. are you quite certain that megumi and y/n did this to you? they've been watching tv —"

"— i wasn't watching that —"

"they've been watching tv," she continued over the sound of her son's grumpy voice, "all morning."

mrs daphne did not seem to appreciate mrs fushiguro's scepticism.

"you, me, and everyone else here knows damn well that it was them!" she exclaimed, nostrils flared as she shook the racoon by the tail.

careful, you thought in your head, megumi'll throw a tantrum at animal cruelty.

for a brief moment, there was silence — just the faint hum of the television filling the space.

from the living room, satoru had let out a long, drawn out, exaggerated groan, dramatically flopping back against the couch as if the fate of the world depended on whatever had been unfolding on the screen. the sound barely had time to settle before mrs daphne's grip on the  racoon had tightened again, her lips curling into something dangerously close to a smirk.

"oh, you just wait," she said, voice dripping with promise. "you think this is funny? i'll show you funny. one day... i don't know when... but one day..."

"that's a threat," you stated blankly.

"against minors," megumi added, deadpanned.

mrs daphne's face twisted, the deep lines around her mouth pulling taut as her eye twitched violently. her nostrils flared with each sharp breath, and for a moment, it looked like she was physically restraining herself from launching into a full-blown tirade.

but megumi's mother, ever the patient one, had decided to gently put an end to the conversation entirely.

"okay, i'm sorry this happened to you, but my kids wouldn't do that," she said, her hand on the knob tightening as she made a move to close the door.

mrs daphne's grip on the racoon wavered — whether from fury or exhaustion was unclear — but the wild gleam in her eyes burned with pure, unfiltered exasperation, like a woman on the brink of either revenge or a nervous breakdown. one day, she had mouthed, as the door had closed shut on her face.

mrs fushiguro turned around, visibly stressed.

"what did you two do?"

a gasp of exaggerated offence caught in your throat as you clutched your chest, eyes widening in mock betrayal. you blinked up at mrs fushiguro, expression teetering between wounded innocence and theatrical disbelief, as if the mere suggestion of wrongdoing had personally shattered your moral code.

"we didn't do anything!" you lied, pouting.

behind you, megumi had barely reacted, arms still crossed, but you could feel his silent judgment.

"really?" said mrs fushiguro, her hands placed on her hips as she raised a sceptical brow at you. "so this isn't just a repeat of two weeks ago?"

"two weeks ago?" satoru repeated, averting his gaze from the television to glance between you and megumi. his hair had become slightly dishevelled because of the blindfold. "what happened two weeks ago?"

you averted your gaze, rubbing the back of your neck and avoiding the conversation altogether. you didn't have to look back to know that megumi had most likely done the same thing, or something similar to you.

two weeks ago, the both of you had accidentally replaced mrs daphne's prized herbal tea leaves with extra-strength laxative tea.

it had been a flawless execution — megumi had played lookout while you carefully swapped the contents of her tea tin during a rare moment she had left it unattended on her porch. and as for the result...

mrs daphne had spent an unfortunate amount of time locked in her bathroom during her weekly book club meeting, leaving her guests bewildered and concerned when she suddenly sprinted away mid-sentence, clutching her stomach with a look of sheer horror.

it hadn't helped that some of her guests were kind enough to wait for her to come out, only to sniff what was left of the faeces in the clogged toilet.

the two of you hadn't been allowed to see each other for the next few days, with the exception of friday night dinner at satoru's (and even then, you weren't allowed to sit next to, across, or even parallel to one another).

megumi's mom looked like she wanted to say what the two of you had done, and whether it was to appease satoru's curiosity or to shame you and megumi, you were unsure, but she had closed her mouth almost immediately once she had met the man-child's gaze. you couldn't blame her: putting ideas about laxatives in tea to satoru of all people was most likely not the greatest idea.

he liked to act stupid, but in reality, he was the most cunning.

after uncle ogi, of course.

"er... nothing," she sighed, patting down the unruly strands of her hair. "the usual stuff they do to that poor woman —"

"poor woman?" you repeated, your attention on the tv show before you practically diminishing even though satoru had mumbled something about it 'starting to get good', "we only did it 'cause she wrote really rude paragraphs about us under buttercup brew's reviews. and then said that she likes miss b, but she should get rid of us."

"and she made us late to demon dog's vet appointment," megumi added bitterly.

mrs fushiguro exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers to her temple as if warding off an impending headache. her eyes flickered towards the kitchen, a clear sign that she was torn between dealing with this nonsense and returning to the far more manageable chaos of whatever meal she had been preparing. one hand lingered on her hip, the other twitching slightly as though itching to grab a dish towel and busy itself with some menial task — anything to distance herself from the absurdity unfolding in her living room.

"i want both of you to leave that woman alone —"

"tell her to leave my dogs alone —"

"we told you," you cut across your sour-looking friend, who had apparently still remained salty about the cancellation fee he'd had to pay the vet, "it wasn't us."

his mom raised her eyebrows sharply. "so who was it then?"

you shrugged, noticing that the man beside you had gone eerily silent: he had become invested in the tv show again.

"satoru," you lied easily, jabbing a finger in his direction.

"wha— hey!" he demanded angrily, turning to you and looking scandalised. he pointed at the tv screen, brows furrowed in that expression he'd always made whenever things didn't go his way. "you wanna be careful now, i'm gonna get akumatized —"

"that's enough," mrs fushiguro sighed.

there was a distinct look of resignation in her expression, the kind only a mother who had long since accepted her fate could wear, but the faintest downturn of her lips betrayed the silent distress of a woman who knew, deep in her sou, that this was far from the last incident she'd have to deal with.

"i— if she gets back at either of you, don't come complaining to me."

she walked back to the kitchen and began sharpening her knife again. satoru shivered and looked away.

"women are scary," he commented quietly.

"she just killed us with kindness," you added, blinking slowly.

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, eyes drifting back to the tv. the screen flickered with muted colours. after the whole daphne conversation, neither of you were particularly invested, but watching felt better than acknowledging the odd feeling still lingering in the air.

"oh, they defeated her," satoru added, sounding bored. "she really is the weakest villain."

you disagreed: the pigeon guy was worse.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the classroom hummed with the dull rhythm of a typical pre-calc lesson, with pages turning and the occasional sigh of confusion. at the very front, where kento kept a watchful eye sat by his desk, you had been sat hunched over your own desk, pencil idle in your grip.

your notebook had been half-filled with numbers, the rest taken over by tiny, elaborate doodles of spotted suits and tangled yo-yos. you had barely been paying attention to the list of unanswered questions before you, instead, your eyes had constantly flicked sideways to nobara, expression alight with quiet excitement.

"she's not exactly discreet when transforming," nobara commented, mindlessly sketching on the side of her own book. "if i did that, obaachan would figure me out almost immediately."

"what about your mom?" you asked.

nobara shot you a deadpanned look. "she'd probably ask if i'm being paid to save the city."

of course. you did not know how you had forgotten her mother's love for the rich.

"i mean... in her defence," you began slowly, "you are risking your life every day for free."

"you and i both know that's not why she'd be concerned," your friend responded with a scoff. before you could respond to that, most likely agreeing due to the entirely unfortunate and factual nature of her comment, nobara had sat up straight, brows raised. "what if the reveal happens when she takes her earrings off?"

you averted your gaze momentarily, stumped. "er... yes, that's how de-transformation aside from 'spots off' works," you answered leisurely, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"no, not like that," said nobara impatiently. "i mean, like, something to do with her having to take her earrings off on a regular day, and then adrien realises who she really is."

you considered it for a moment, brows furrowed and head tilted to the ceiling, deep in thought, before ultimately shaking your head, watching as nobara deflated in her seat.

"no, he's a little too blonde for that," you had decided.

"it must have something to do with the big reveal though," nobara stubbornly continued. "she refuses to take them off when she absolutely has to... like a p.e class or a sports activity, or before surgery or a medical scan. if he doesn't realise it then, then maybe when she eventually has to hide it somewhere and he finds it?"

"interesting," you nodded thoughtfully. "where would she keep it though? her diary trapped sabrina's hand before, and she ended up leaving with it, so she can't hide it in there."

"somewhere unsuspecting."

a quiet lull had settled between you and nobara. around you, the steady scribble of pencils continued as your classmates worked through their pre-calc questions in varying degrees of focus: some hunched earnestly over slope-intercept equations, others clearly finishing off assignments from different classes, flipping pages with practised guilt.

you gave nobara's suggestion a little more thought. "in the fridge?"

she shook her head. "wouldn't her kwami freeze to death in there?"

your frown had indicated to her that you had not considered that a possibility.

near the windows, megumi had leaned in beside yuji, gesturing subtly between two overlapping parabolas on his notebook, murmuring something that made yuji squint in deep concentration.

"hmm, fair point..." you hummed.

your eyes had landed on shoes belonging to someone you had recently become more acquainted with. kamo hovered quietly at the front, papers in hand, waiting for kento to finish marking his work. his gaze had drifted with disinterest, but as your conversation with nobara continued, his attention had visibly shifted.

he turned slightly, expression composed but curious, and glanced at you from over his shoulder.

"shouldn't you of all people know that hypothermia only sets in after twenty minutes?" he'd said, hands in his pockets, fiddling.

nobara scowled. "it's rude to eavesdrop."

you agreed, but you certainly did not care as much as nobara did.

"hard not to when i'm standing barely a metre away," he responded easily.

kamo's eyes had met yours again, and his previous statement had settled in.

you blinked, mildly thrown by his certainty. it wasn't like you were known for scientific facts, humanities subjects were your domain, and anything remotely stem-related usually made your brain short-circuit.

so what was he getting at?

it seemed that your visible confusion had become crystal clear to him, for he had decided to finally explain himself.

"the twins in your family during the baking competition..."

and then it all clicked.

your mouth had parted slightly as the memory surged back with sudden clarity, the details unspooling like film in fast-forward.

ah.

that baking competition.

you had told him about it during one of your tutoring sessions — somehow, in a moment of distress, to distract him from the questions he had printed out for you to answer, you'd shared the story of one of your most chaotic childhood afternoons. a family bake-off, teams easily formed and consisting of the children, if only to keep you all occupied: maki and mai, ruthless and exact; you and megumi, competitive yet wildly uncoordinated; and mimiko and nanako, sweet, eager, and, as it turned out, a little too literal.

the instructions in their cookbook had read: chill in the fridge for 35 minutes.

so that was exactly what they had done.

two tiny girls, barely eight years old, had gotten comfortable inside the bottom half of the fridge, knees tucked, heads ducked, with nanako's hand extended to prevent the door from closing entirely (she had feared the dark). both had been rushed to the hospital, apparently having experienced the first stage of hypothermia.

it was something the family had never failed to remind them.

you hadn't thought about it in years, however, kamo had been correct all along. you should have known that a fridge wouldn't be safe for ladybug's kwami.

megumi and yuji had stepped into your line of sight, each holding their own papers, joining kamo in the line forming at kento's desk.

"the fridge thing?" nobara added with a laugh.

at that, megumi had lowered his chin, looking at you with the typical monotonous face.

"what about it?" he'd asked, eyeing your blank question paper with furrowed brows. he did not seem to think that chatting about ridiculous past events was of any priority when you were on the verge of failing pre-calc.

you hastily moved to place your elbows over your paper, scoffing.

"don't be nosy," you shot back, finding yourself unsure of whether you were referring to his disappointment in your work or the conversation with nobara and kamo.

"we were talking about the fridge situation during the baking competition," kamo had calmly told megumi.

"you're still making fun of them about that?" yuji added, looking visibly disheartened. "they were kids, it was just a stupid mistake!"

when yuji had first heard the story, he'd nearly fallen out of his chair laughing. but lately, for reasons no one could quite pin down, he'd taken on a strange moral stance about it, as though the twins' misreading of the directions had become a tragic tale rather than a funny one. nobody else seemed to carry that same sentiment.

"why are you getting defensive?" megumi questioned him, eyes narrowed.

nobara pointed the end of her pencil at him with a smug grin. "'cause he knows that he'd probably make the same mistake at big fifteen."

yuji exploded. "i would not!"

the sharp spike in volume drew the attention of several classmates, but it was kento who had finally looked up from behind his desk. his gaze swept over the small cluster of you causing the disruption before settling on kamo. with a flick of his pen, he gestured the boy over.

"kamo, bring your work here."

as kamo nodded and complied, you noticed that kento hadn't looked all that irritated, his expression barely shifting, and there was even (dare you consider it...) a ghost of amusement behind his glasses. and it all made sense, for he had known that the noise had come from yuji.

and of course, he let it slide.

if it had been you, he probably would have made you sit in time out or something.

"favouritism," you muttered bitterly.

even so, you hadn't spent a long time dwelling on it, mostly because megumi and yuji were both now staring at both you and nobara with a kind of focus usually reserved for particularly confusing word problems.

"why are you guys even talking about the fridge thing?" yuji asked curiously.

"where would you hide a miraculous?" you asked him, leaning on your elbows and looking up at him with raised brows.

"not this again," megumi grumbled.

"hush," yousnapped harshly, before focusing on yuji again. "so..? an unsuspecting place, right?"

yuji nodded, brows drawn together in deep concentration, and for a moment, you almost expected something clever to follow, maybe a hidden compartment idea or a decoy strategy. but the longer the silence stretched, the more it became clear: he was just... thinking.

very hard.

and it became clear when he finally spoke.

"yeah," he agreed calmly. "like under my pillow."

you did not wait for anyone to insult him before doing it yourself.

"okay so you're stupid," you had decided, before clarifying what you had stated earlier; yuji's expression had fallen dramatically. "i would hide it in a fridge, but nobara said the kwami would freeze to death."

"kwamis aren't real," megumi had helpfully retorted.

"thank you for your incredibly obvious input, porcupine. why did we not consider that, nobara?"

megumi's brows remained furrowed, and though his face held its usual flat indifference, there was a tension in his jaw that hadn't been there a minute ago. he didn't respond to your jab, nor did he glance at you or nobara. he had just kept his eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, expression unreadable.

"yuji, would you like me to mark your work?" kento had called out as he handed kamo his notes and papers to take back.

yuji stood upright and beamed, making his way over to the stoic teacher. "ah, yeah! thanks mr nanami!"

"pick a place that won't risk the kwami getting stage one hypothermia," kamo had told you as he'd made his way back from kento's desk. "you're supposed to know this."

you frowned, but the expression quickly faded as your eyes drifted longingly to the marked question papers in kamo's hands — the glorious sheets that held all the answers to the very questions still blank on your own.

"hey, kamo," you began slowly, "remember when i made you laugh and you said that no one's managed to do that before...?"

kamo followed your gaze and shook his head at you, his long hair swaying this way and that. "sorry. wouldn't be a responsible tutor if i gave all the answers to you," he'd told you unapologetically. 

you scowled, unimpressed. "boo, buzzkill."

"hello?" nobara spoke up loudly. "we still have an unanswered question here: so the fridge is out of the question. what next?"

megumi turned to kamo so abruptly, it was almost jarring, the motion sharp enough to cut through the playful atmosphere like a blade. his voice had come flat, almost clipped, when he asked, "how do you even know about the fridge thing?"

he hadn't blinked, didn't smile (as per usual), just stared, tone neutral, but just faintly laced with something else. something unreadable.

kamo, for his part, didn't seem fazed:

"she told me," he answered easily.

"how else would he have known?" you asked your unimpressed friend with a grin; megumi supposed that tsumiki was the one who had informed him of this, but as of late, he had not seen the two together since the time outside of his business class. "he was the fridge," you answered your own question sarcastically.

kamo's eyes had locked with your own. "you saying i'm fat?"

you laughed, soft and amused, the kind that curled at the edges of your smile without much effort, and nobara had followed shortly after. but megumi hadn't even flinched, clearly unconvinced that anything about the exchange had been remotely funny.

he found that you were simply laughing too hard at a joke that hadn't landed for him at all.

"hang on," nobara interrupted, and megumi had been silently grateful for it. "how do you know what a kwami is?"

kamo averted his gaze momentarily. "who doesn't know what a kwami is?"

"the people who don't watch miraculous..." you responded gradually. your eyes had narrowed suspiciously, a smile slowly gracing your lips. "oh my god... you watch miraculous, don't you?"

megumi was no longer grateful.

both you and nobara ignored the way kamo had distinctly avoided trying to answer the question, gathering his papers and walking past both your desks to retreat back to his own seat. but you hadn't let that slide so easily: you stood up almost immediately and followed him, taking enough care to take your own question paper with you.

megumi watched as you slid into the seat beside kamo with all the casual defiance of someone who knew they wouldn't be moved. kamo, to his credit, tried — nudging your paper away with the edge of his elbow, muttering something about 'academic integrity,' but you remained perfectly unbothered, chin propped on your hand, eyes glinting with interest.

megumi's frown had deepened.

it was only when yuji had returned, grinning proudly and waving his newly marked sheet like it was a certificate of honour, that megumi finally tore his eyes away. wordlessly, he stood and followed in yuji's previous footsteps towards his teacher's desk, feeling a nasty pit in his stomach he could not quite explain.

"so," you spoke excitedly, "when were you planning on telling me that you watch miraculous ladybug?"

"i don't watch miraculous ladybug," he responded stubbornly.

"liar," you teased, your hand creeping up to swipe at his marked and completed question paper. he had spotted this, and immediately pulled it away from you. this did not deter you from questioning him again (even if it had left you momentarily disheartened). "who's your favourite character?"

"none: all of them are stupid."

you watched him carefully. he had refused, for about a minute or so, to meet your gaze, simply staring down at his own completed question paper, stagnant.

it hadn't taken him long to give in; he'd turned to lock eyes with you, and by the way you were staring at him, it seemed that he knew that you'd caught him.

"what?" he said, dreary.

"how would you know they're all stupid if you don't watch it?" you challenged, grinning.

"my friend... watches it."

"who?"

"...chad."

"don't throw chad under the bus!" you scolded him, sitting upright.

you could still appreciate the fact that chad montgomery most likely did watch miraculous ladybug. you were just certain that kamo watched it with him.

"y'know... mylene is my favourite character," you added mindlessly.

kamo's lips twitched — barely, but enough to betray the internal battle you knew was waging behind his uncaring exterior. he had turned slightly, as if to avoid the trap entirely, but you saw it happen: the precise moment restraint gave way to reflex.

"mylene is no one's favourite character," he said, falling for the bait.

you laughed. "i know, even saying it was a struggle."

the conversation between you and kamo spiralled quickly — what began as a playful dig turned into a full-blown discussion dissecting side characters and plot holes. kamo, despite all prior denial, spoke with the casual confidence of someone who'd clearly watched every season. you were animated, thrilled to finally find someone other than yuji or nobara who didn't give you that look, the one that said 'you're too old to be watching a kids' show'.

meanwhile, on the other side of the room, yuji and nobara sat shoulder to shoulder, their desks practically fused together. nobara was very obviously trying to steal a glance at yuji's newly marked paper, leaning in under the pretence of helping him reflect on his mistakes (as if she were better at math than him).

yuji had kept on tugging the sheet away, hissing protests she didn't bother listening to. by the time megumi had returned with his own marked work, he took one look at them — nobara blatantly demanding him to show her his answers to question eight — and sighed before sliding wordlessly into the empty seat beside them. the corner of his page was already bent from how hard he had been gripping it.

"megumi, give me your paper," nobara demanded the second megumi had come into view.

he shot her a dirty look; she returned it and turned back to yuji, the more malleable friend.

"mr nanami said i can't just give you my answers!" yuji argued stubbornly.

"you guys are so greedy," nobara insulted, scowling down at her own blank sheet. she looked up and found that megumi's attention had been caught elsewhere. "what are you looking at?"

megumi met nobara's gaze with the kind of expression that suggested she'd just accused him of something barbaric... not that this was unusual; megumi rarely looked anything other than vaguely annoyed. but there was something sharper in his stare this time, a flicker of tension in the way his jaw tightened before he blinked and looked away.

it wasn't annoyance at her question, not really. he just didn't feel like answering, not when the sound of your laugh kept drifting over from kamo's side of the room, unguarded, as though you did not have an entire notebook worth of questions to complete.

"they're talking about that dumb show instead of pre-calc," megumi said, sounding unimpressed.

nobara watched him carefully, brows furrowed in disgust.

"oh so you're so righteous," she commented sarcastically.

"no, he's right," yuji mumbled, glaring off into the distance where you held up a terribly-drawn art piece of a bald adrien agreste to show kamo, who slammed the book back down onto the table hastily. "she's gonna be stuck as a junior."

"oh says you!" nobara retorted easily. she pointed the end of her pencil at yuji accusatorily. "you're just jealous she's talking about miraculous with someone other than you."

megumi did not dignify the comment with a response, but the way his eyes narrowed (just slightly) said enough. he had shifted in his seat, shoulders tight, as if the very idea of being lumped into that category offended some private principle of his.

while yuji opposed this loudly, megumi had flicked his gaze back to his worksheet with a kind of forced indifference, pen tapping idly against the desk, though the rhythm was off-beat, unsteady in a way that betrayed more than he meant to.

"i couldn't care less about a poorly-written show," said megumi icily, "but if she wants to pull her grades up, walking away from that conversation would be a good start."

and he hadn't stopped there.

"the show isn't even educational either. why are they talking about it in a math class?"

yuji sat up straighter at that, as though a light bulb had flicked on above his head.

"y'know what, megumi? you're right!" he stated fiercely, and he spun on his chair, calling for kento loudly. "mr nanami! mr nanami!"

the second kento looked up (he had been helpfully marking bonnie francis's work and providing amendments here and there) yuji began explaining himself:

"look, look over there," he advised his teacher loudly. "y/n and kamo, they're talking about miraculous ladybug, which is a show... that i watch too, by the way. but i'm not talking about it in the middle of your lesson... 'cause i'm a good student... that finished the work you set and even had you mark it. and i even did all the ones i got wrong, and didn't let anyone take my answers."

kento maintained eye contact with the passionate boy, before looking over his shoulder to watch you and kamo, but yuji had spoken once more, and kento's eyes had met his again.

"— because i want to actually pass your class —"

"okay, yuji, i understand," kento interrupted with a hand raised.

yuji turned back around, seemingly proud of himself.

nobara scrunched her nose up at him. "you're a snitch."

"a snitch that's passing this class," yuji corrected her, smug.

kento's gaze lingered on you and kamo across the room, expression unreadable, though the slight purse of his lips suggested disapproval. he said nothing, just observed the two of you with that quiet authority teachers wield when they were deciding whether to intervene or let the silence stretch and do the work for them.

from his own desk, megumi watched it all unfold with a calmness he hadn't earned. there was something about seeing kento look your way disapprovingly that settled strangely inside his chest.

it was almost like a quiet satisfaction.

like the prickling confirmation that he'd been right all along — about distractions, about misplaced priorities.

he didn't question why it felt like a win; he just held onto it.

"y/n," kento had called out firmly.

you looked up, brows raised.

"why have you moved seats?" he asked you, simultaneously handing bonnie francis her worksheets back, fully marked and amended where need be.

"'cause kamo's my tutor," you answered honestly; megumi scowled, "and we're talking about the work."

kento adjusted his round glasses before nodding. "is that so?"

"yep," you beamed, turning to your partner. "he explains it to me in a way that i can understand."

"i do," kamo had confirmed, though it came out as more of a question than a statement.

you nodded enthusiastically. "he does!"

the quiet satisfaction that megumi had been basking in had died out quite quickly. yuji had obviously felt the same way, for he had turned around to assist kento immediately.

"there's no link between miraculous ladybug and vector operations!"

kento had raised his hand again, dismissive. "yes, thank you yuji, i am well aware." he had looked at you and kamo again.

it had become clear to you exactly why kento had made it an issue for you to be sitting next to kamo, and you had immediately locked gazes with your stubborn friend; yuji seemed to look a little too proud of himself, and you did not enjoy that.

not one bit.

a demonstration was in order, it seemed.

"a negative plus a negative equals?" you asked your partner, watching as he raised a mildly confused brow at you. you had urged him to respond, raising both your own brows at him encouragingly.

"er..." kamo started, visibly and audibly lose. "i don't know — ladybug?"

you shook your head at him, eyes wide, before repeating the question again for him. he still looked lost, but as the obedient tutor he was, he found an answer not long after.

"oh, a positive... lucky charm," he had finally responded.

you grinned, wholly satisfied, like a teacher whose student had just passed their first pop quiz. "exactly!" you had praised, nodding with pride.

the two of you had turned back to meet kento's gaze. for a moment, it seemed that your strict teacher would make you move back to your original seat (not that you dreaded it, but the conversation about miraculous ladybug with kamo had taken off incredibly well) but to your amazement (as well as yuji's, it seemed, given the look of distraught on his face after kento had spoken) your teacher shrugged it off:

"is your worksheet complete?" he had asked you.

you held it up for proof. "halfway there."

kamo had, in between discussing the hatred you both held for mylene, helped you answer some of your questions.

"then i don't mind," kento said calmly, returning to his computer and tapping at the keyboard. "so long as you are completing the work..."

you blinked, genuinely impressed.

you hadn't actually expected that to work — it had been a bluff, a last-minute tactic, a flimsily disguised display of random mathematical understanding coated in miraculous references. and yet, against all odds, it had worked.

miraculously.

kamo seemed just as surprised, though he very obviously hid it better.

across the room, yuji sat there slack-jawed, hands limp on his desk like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

megumi, meanwhile, did not react verbally. but the way he stared down at his worksheet with sudden, excessive focus (even though he hadn't answered a question in the last three minutes) said plenty. his eyes had narrowed just a fraction too much, and the pen in his hand tapped sharply against the desk in rhythmic irritation. nobara caught the expression out of the corner of her eye and burst out laughing.

"you look like you've just been told your dog joined a fan club for cats," she teased, doubling over slightly in her seat.

and you, thoroughly pleased with yourself, displayed a new drawing you had sketched up. it was a drawing of yuji, but bald and miserable, and you had taken enough care to draw an ominous little akuma (the moth that the villain in miraculous ladybug used to possess his victims) that fluttered near the top of his shaved head.

yuji recoiled:

"no!" he gasped, pointing at you with a petrified expression painted over his face. "i'm not bald, and i'm not gonna get akumatised 'cause i'm not even angry! you're such a —"

"yuji," came kento's voice from the front without even looking up. yuji had turned around abruptly. "focus on your own work please."

nobara burst into laughter first, her hand slapped over her mouth as she wheezed, and you followed not long after, shoulders shaking as you tried (and failed) to stifle your grin behind your hand.

yuji, on the other hand, sat there in stunned silence, mouth slightly open as he turned to stare at you in utter betrayal. you were the one who was supposed to be getting told off — not him. he'd been helping the class, being righteous, virtuous, even. yet somehow, he'd taken the fall.

from the corner of his eye, megumi watched all of this unfold, jaw clenched slightly. though he didn't comment, the moment held no humour for him. there was a small, reluctant flicker of irritation that lingered behind his eyes, not quite at yuji, and not quite at you either, but at the fact that, somehow, your antics had been overlooked.

and even more annoyingly... rewarded.

"guess you're not nanami's favourite anymore," he told yuji, nudging him hard when his friend had made a fuss over it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the boys' locker room after school was loud in the way that only adolescent chaos could be: metallic clatters of lockers slamming shut, the shuffle of sneakers across slick tile, and the constant hum of overlapping voices that bounced off the concrete walls like static. the fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over rows of dented lockers that looked older than most of their owners. the air was thick with the sour tang of sweat and deodorant battling for dominance, stirred by the rhythmic clinks of belts and the rustle of polyester jerseys being tugged over heads.

somewhere in the back, someone was arguing over who'd forgotten to bring the ball again, and the distant spray of a faulty showerhead hissed like a quiet warning. beneath the surface noise was a routine familiarity, shoulders bumping in shared space, banter tossed carelessly like gym bags, boys posturing just enough to hide the fatigue of the day. a few leaned against lockers, still half-dressed, muttering about class, homework, or who had a crush on who.

megumi and yuji lingered by their own lockers, accompanied by toge and yuta, both of whom were sat hunched over the bench, chatting idly.

"don't you have detention today?" yuta asked toge, who merely shrugged in response.

toge never spoke much, but when he did, it was usually something insulting.

"what did you do?" yuji asked him curiously, as he adjusted his jersey.

"accidentally told mr ali to get laid," toge answered, securing his shoelaces.

megumi half understood the comment: mr ali was one of the few teachers here at the school that even satoru could not tolerate, constantly in a bad mood, and constantly abusing his power by taking it out on the students.

"i still don't get how that was accidental," yuta added, and then nudged his pale-haired friend urgently. "so why aren't you there now?"

toge did not seem nearly as concerned as yuta was. "skipping it; he'll live."

the door banged open with the kind of dramatic force only one person ever dared to use, and sure enough, todo strode in like a man on a mission. the noise in the locker room had dulled instantly, conversations faltering under the sheer weight of his presence (and the fact that he had demanded silence, voice booming).

without sparing a glance at anyone, he made a beeline for the whiteboard mounted on the wall, grabbing the half-dried marker from its holder. with all the subtlety of a bulldozer, he erased whatever faint diagram had been left behind — something clearly unrelated, probably netball or hockey judging by the neat spacing — and, with intense purpose, scribbled in block letters:

WHAT IS JUJUTSU HIGH'S FOOTBALL PLAYERS' TYPES?

he capped the marker with a loud snap, turned on his heel, and faced the room with a deadly seriousness that suggested to everyone in the room that this was no joke.

"not this again," megumi grumbled, and unfortunately for him, todo had caught wind of each word.

"YES, THIS AGAIN, FUSHIGURO!" he bellowed, uncaring of chad's silent flinch in the corner of the room. "we forgot to do a debrief of the task i assigned you a few weeks back."

right, megumi had thought to himself. the one where both him and yuji had been entrusted to find out which girl it was that kamo was interested in.

he had intentionally not made a single move to try and discover the answer, and judging by the shocked look on yuji's face, it seemed that yuji had forgotten to do so entirely.

"BROTHER," todo yelled, throwing the marker at yuji, who had caught it easily (megumi could appreciate the fact that yuji's reflexes had naturally been quite sharp), "DEBRIEF THE TEAM!"

megumi had given yuji a bland, encouraging pat on the back as he stepped forward slowly, the marker looking unusually heavy in his grip as he made his way to the whiteboard. the usual bounce in his step was missing, replaced by something more cautious, thoughtful, even.

the room watched in silence as he lifted his arm and scrawled a single name in a scuffed corner of the board:

Tsumiki

the letters were not bold or confident — each one slightly slanted, like he wasn't entirely sure it belonged there. megumi's eyes had narrowed faintly, something quiet tugging at the edges of his mind...

that was the name he'd expected. the one that made the most sense.

but for some reason, the sight of it didn't bring the same certainty it once had. it sat wrong somehow, out of place — not because of the name itself, but because of the hesitation laced into every letter.

as of recent, megumi had not seem quite certain that tsumiki was the one that kamo had been secretly liking. and yet, he could find nothing else exact that could explain otherwise.

"tsumiki..." todo read out loud, and megumi recoiled from the eyes of everyone in the room, locked on his face from all different directions. he did not like this. "tsumiki from physics?"

"wait, i don't get it," chad called out bravely. "what are we even discussing here?"

"todo told megumi and i to find the girl kamo likes," yuji answered, tapping the board with the back of the marker he'd used to write tsumiki's name down.

kamo had been tying the strap of his shin guard when the sudden mention of his name had pulled his attention up. his gaze drifted to the whiteboard slowly, the way someone might check a clock in the middle of the night — absently, but with growing awareness, brows drawing together almost instantly, as though the name didn't quite translate in his head.

confusion settled subtly across his features, not dramatic or loud, after all, megumi understood how kamo behaved. instead, it seemed that someone was reading the wrong answer to a question they were sure they'd studied for. his eyes lingered on the name a moment too long, not in recognition, but in search of it, and megumi had not missed this.

"is this true?" todo demanded loudly. "'cause if it is, it's not the worst type in the world —"

"why do you think i like tsumiki?" kamo asked yuji, who, just like megumi, had frozen up.

had there been a proper reason for them to have come to the conclusion that kamo liked tsumiki? megumi listed the reasons out in his head, and for the first time since coming to that conclusion, he found himself unconvinced.

"er... don't you?" yuji shot back, now looking uncertain.

1. megumi had spotted them talking, frequently.

"i asked you first," said kamo, no longer leaning against his own locker.

2. the timing could not have been coincidental: the second kamo admitted that he liked someone that time in this exact locker room was the second megumi had spotted the two together.

"er... megumi?" yuji had muttered, apparently looking to him for support.

megumi scowled and turned away, opening his locker and mindlessly rearranging what was inside; he did not want to be any more involved than he already was, which was not by much.

3. tsumiki was speaking about how kamo was  very considerate (praising him more than megumi liked to believe that he deserved).

he could feel kamo's stare pressing into the back of his skull, and it was sharp, quiet, and expectant.

it wasn't accusatory, not quite, but it was the kind of look that demanded clarity, that sifted through silence for meaning. and beneath that weight, megumi had continued to fumble with the clutter in his locker, more out of avoidance than necessity.

he did not need to turn around to know that todo's expression had soured — he could practically hear his irritation building, the heavy breath through his nose, the tension in his stance. the lack of answers had grated against todo like chalk against a board, and the longer the confusion lingered, the more obvious it became that this task was slipping further and further out of his control.

"she said you're a good guy!" yuji had added helpfully, though he did not sound too certain about that. "i think..."

kamo replied almost immediately, and just as usual, megumi could not decipher much from the tone of his voice, for it sounded indifferent. "she did?" he'd said.

surely a guy that likes a girl would care for her approval?

so if not that, why else would kamo care?

"brother, i'm disappointed with the results you've given me," todo spoke lowly. megumi had closed the door of his locker, turning around to face his teammates, wanting so desperately for this conversation to come to a conclusion. "HOWEVER, I DON'T BLAME YOU!"

4. tsumiki said megumi would be seeing kamo around more often.

"fuck, he's loud," oliver grumbled, rubbing his ear with a scrunched up nose. megumi could not blame him — todo's spontaneous change of volume always occurred without warning.

"i blame FUSHIGURO!"

because megumi had been expecting this to occur, unlike the rest of the team, he had not flinched one bit.

"kamo, just tell us who your girl is, man," logan grumbled tiredly. "we just wanna get to practice already."

"woah, woah, woah, dude," chad spoke up almost immediately. he had stepped forward and pulled kamo to his side. "you can't pressure my best friend to do that, it's not cool."

and just like that, a flicker of doubt wormed its way through megumi's chest — had he gotten it all wrong from the start?

kamo shrugged him off.

but megumi had just realised something...

"are the juniors right?" todo demanded loudly.

all eyes were on kamo: toge, the silent gossiper, was (to no one's surprise) heavily invested. as was his best friend, yuta, who always tried his best not to indulge in such topics, but even megumi could not deny that this one in particular was of major interest.

tsumiki had never said that he would be seeing kamo around more often...

"wrap it up, man, it's tsumiki —" someone from near the door had decided, but todo was not having it.

or at least, she hadn't confirmed it...

"I ONLY WANNA HEAR FROM KAMO!"

"me and megumi saw you two talking," yuji stated, and megumi refrained the urge to grab him by the neck and throttle him. "a lot."

'will i be seeing him around more?' he had asked her.

"this isn't right, dudes," chad sighed, looking visibly stressed.

'possibly,' she had answered...

"is tsumiki..." todo ominously began, voice deep and low, and yet holding every bit of demand with each syllable he uttered.

possibly.

"...the girl you like?"

she was uncertain.

the silence that settled over the locker room was thick and waiting, like a vacuum sealed tight with expectation. it wasn't the quiet of peace or stillness... it was the kind that crackled faintly beneath the surface, stretched taut like a wire about to snap. even the usual background hum (the rustle of bags, the scuff of shoes, the clink of locker doors) had died out, as if the room itself had been holding its breath.

uncertain... yet he remembered the look on her face.

eyes darted between kamo and todo, then to the whiteboard where Tsumiki stared back in shaky, uncertain letters.

no one moved.

it was hope.

the air was heavy with unspoken guesses and rising tension, like the entire team had been pulled into a single, silent countdown — waiting for kamo to speak and detonate whatever truth he carried.

she was uncertain, yet hopeful, like she could only do so much to allow it to happen...

"ANSWER ME!"

like she was not the one making the ultimate decision.

kamo looked the team captain with one, uncaring look, and let out an inaudible breath, one that only those next to him (chad) would be able to catch.

like she was not the one that kamo liked.

"no," kamo had answered, and the pit that had been slowly forming in megumi's stomach since pre-calc that morning had grown nine times faster.

something else inside him coiled uncomfortably, like a thread pulled too tight, straining but invisible to the eye. he told himself it was just surprise, because that should’ve been the right name on the board, because everything (or what little facts he had silently confirmed by himself) had pointed to it.

and yet, somehow, the wrongness of it all didn’t feel new.

it felt old.

familiar.

a quiet unease he hadn’t wanted to look at too closely until now, when it was suddenly inescapable. he stayed quiet, eyes on the ground, pretending the shift in his chest wasn’t happening.

maybe if he didn't pay attention to it, it'd become less real.

but kamo had made quite sure that this wouldn't be the case:

"THEN WHO?" todo had roared out, visibly and audibly frustrated.

"kamo, man, just tell him!" ethan complained loudly.

logan voiced his agreement. "he's not gonna let this go, and i just wanna get to the field already."

chad, ever the quiet moral compass of the group, leaned forwards slightly on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees as he spoke with the kind of steady conviction that didn’t demand attention but naturally earned it.

“you don’t owe anyone an answer, dude. if you’re not ready to say, you don’t have to.” his voice was calm, but carried weight, cutting through the restless complaints and todo’s booming impatience with surprising ease.

kamo had not replied immediately: he blinked slowly, as if weighing his options, then let out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh. his hand rose to rake through his hair, fingers slipping through the strands before he pulled it back into a low bun with deliberate, unhurried movements.

"i’m not folding,” he said finally, straightening with a casual ease that didn’t quite hide the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. “you’ll find out eventually. i think i’ve got a real shot with her.”

megumi didn’t look up. he had kept his gaze fixed on the half-zipped edge of his gym bag, jaw set, expression unreadable, but something in his stillness felt sharper than before, like the conversation had shifted something small and unseen beneath the surface...

and now it wouldn’t quite settle back into place.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

august 20th 2010 — the baking competition...

the soft hum of an old ventilation fan filled the quiet surveillance room of the community centre, its walls lined with humming monitors and dusty shelves stacked with outdated manuals and forgotten equipment. the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the room, and rows of cctv screens flickered with various angles of the building (the gym, the parking lot) but the largest monitor at the centre had been fixed on the stainless steel kitchen, where six flour-dusted children were deep in chaotic concentration. a half-empty bag of sugar lay ominously overturned on the counter, and someone (it hadn't been clear who) had just slipped on what looked like frosting.

in front of the screen, suguru stood with his arms crossed, brows low and accusing, while satoru leaned back in a rolling chair, spinning slightly, smug and far too relaxed for his best friend's liking.

"why am i here?" suguru had asked him, brow furrowed in annoyance. 

satoru pointed at the large screen before them. "to prove to you that i'm innocent," he had answered.

suguru remained unimpressed. "you sabotaged my kids."

"i never sabotaged anyone," satoru responded, a brow raised at suguru's obvious discontent. "i play fair, given how my kids were up against yours —"

suguru had not missed the jab. "the hell is that supposed to mean?"

satoru spun on his chair and clicked at the monitors, speeding up and slowing down the footage. 

"you wanna see what happened to your ice queens?" he said, audibly determined. 

suguru would have taken him seriously, but he had known satoru since they were just regular students in middle school. he knew better than to blindly trust the white-haired prankster. 

"what sort of reference is that?" he demanded, brow raised as he watched the footage blur and come back into focus several times while satoru messed with it. "some of that fake classic literature that you read?"

"hey, i don't read classic literature: it's boring fiction." he gestured to the screen again. "but this? this is the greatest piece of media that i've ever seen, take a look."

on-screen, you and megumi had been caught in a heated argument over what looked like batter ratios, with megumi visibly restraining himself from flinging the whisk at your head. a few feet over, maki had just lobbed a spoonful of frosting at mai, who retaliated with a fistful of flour, their collaboration unravelling into open warfare. 

but the lens lingered on mimiko and nanako — the only pair working in seamless, quiet harmony. mimiko folded whipped cream with gentle, precise motions while nanako measured out ingredients beside her, mouthing a count under her breath. their movements were synchronised, calm amidst the chaos, and if not for the occasional glint of flour on their cheeks, they might have looked like pros.

"what am i looking at?" suguru scoffed. "they're doing great."

"don't hold your breath," satoru chuckled, watching the footage patiently.

mimiko squinted at the printout of their recipe before tapping the paper thoughtfully. 

“nana," she called out, brows furrowed and lips pursed, "it says to... to chill in the fridge for... thirty-five minutes,” she murmured, eyes flicking to her sister. 

her twin had glanced up from the cocoa powder she had been attempting to level, their unspoken communication as natural as breathing. there was a beat of silence, and then, wordlessly, they reached for each other’s hand and padded across the kitchen. 

the fridge door had creaked open, light spilling out across the tiled floors, and as they began to remove a tray of gelatine cups and a bowl of frosting to make space, maki and mai’s bickering had paused, just long enough for both sisters to glance over, distracted.

with the contents shuffled onto the counter beside a mountain of cupcake liners, mimiko and nanako climbed up, knees tucking in as they shuffled to the back of the fridge like it was some private little fort. cold air billowed around them, making their cheeks glow pink, but neither flinched. instead, they settled in comfortably, backs against the frosty wall, their hands still linked. 

mimiko leaned forwards to close the door shut, and she had almost managed it. but unbeknownst to her, nanako had extended her own wrist, leaving her pointer finger out, preventing the door from shutting entirely.

"mimiko, i'm kind of scared in the dark..."

"it's fine, nanako. we just need to stay here for... erm... how long again...?"

"you said it was thirty-five minutes."

"oh yeah, i forgot."

"it's kind of cold..."

"yeah... brrr..."

maki and mai exchanged a look, the kind of look only siblings knew how to read, equal parts disbelief and opportunity. 

maki sauntered over to the fridge, peering inside like she was inspecting alien life. 

“er, what are you two doing?” she asked, voice flat but vaguely amused. 

it was mimiko that had answered. 

"we’re chilling," she'd said, and let out a small cough. "the recipe said we have to chill in the fridge for thirty-five minutes.” 

maki blinked once, then turned on her heel, marching back towards the chaos where megumi had just confiscated your mixing bowl. 

"the rules said that — that we have to work as a — a — a — a team!" you argued, hands over your hips, your apron a mess of flour, sugar, and frosting. "so you can't just keeping on taking away my mixing bowl, silly billy!"

"then stop ruining everything," he had snapped at you. 

you responded by throwing flour at his hair. it was already a mess, you supposed it wouldn't take any more time in the shower to sort the added mess too. 

before megumi could retaliate, his eyes a dangerous shade of dark blue that you had started to wisely retreat from, maki and mai had joined your guys' side.

"oi, you two," maki had hissed, one lens of her glasses dripping with melted butter. "look at them."

you and megumi, despite your differences, paused momentarily and turned towards the fridge in sync, your bickering momentarily forgotten. behind the slightly ajar door, mimiko and nanako were still curled up like chilled dumplings, pink-cheeked and eerily serene, as if sitting inside a fridge mid-baking challenge was the most natural thing in the world.

megumi narrowed his eyes, visibly unimpressed. "what the hell are they doing?" he muttered, deadpan.

"the recipe says to chill in the fridge for thirty-five minutes," mai whispered, showing you the line in the baking book that had stated exactly that.

"that's the dumbest thing i’ve ever seen,” said megumi, nose scrunched in disgust. 

you shake your head, holding back a laugh. "my daddy says we have to — to — to help animals when they're in danger... are mimiko and nanako in danger?"

"mimiko and nanako... aren't animals," said mai.

megumi scoffed. "they're acting like them."

you glanced at your competition partner, blinking through the flour stuck between your eyelashes. "so... are we 'upposed to help them?" you asked him, visibly lost.

maki and mai shared a grin that only spelled mischief. together, they turned back towards the fridge like foxes closing in on an easy win. maki crouched slightly to meet the twins’ eye level, resting an arm on the fridge door while mai stood behind her, holding the baking book. 

“hey,” maki began, tone suspiciously encouraging, “you guys are so good at this. megumi and y/n and me and mai are gonna lose now."

mai nodded solemnly.

there was a pause, and you almost believed that the act was obvious, that the other sets of twins had figured you all out, until one of them responded (mimiko, you had assumed), grateful and yet very obviously in discomfort.

"really? thank you, maki,” she said softly, fingers still clutched around nanako’s hand like they were on some arctic expedition. "you're never usually this kind..."

maki locked eyes with you and shrugged. 

nanako had spoken next.

“do you know how much longer we have to stay in here?” she asked, voice tinged with a tiny shiver. 

you had almost felt bad for them, but after taking a look at your own work station, mess littered all over the place with very little progress, you supposed that you could use the extra time.

mai gave a beat before replying, “fifty minutes.”

you, from across the kitchen, whipped your head around. 

fifty minutes?! 

that was the entire remainder of the competition — you had seen the timer just five minutes ago.

mimiko sounded sceptical. “but... i thought we were supposed to stay for thirty-five...”

mai waved her off with a breezy tone. “you read it wrong. it’s actually one whole hour.”

“an hour?” nanako repeated, voice going slightly high. “but we’ve already been in here for, like... fifteen minutes! and it's — it's cold! and...”

“exactly,” maki nodded, stone-faced. “you guys still have so much time left, but at least you're ahead of all of us! you guys are going to win.”

nanako let out a whiny little groan, cheeks puffed. “but it’s so cold, mimiko...”

"cold builds character," megumi had added helpfully.

they were rushed to the ER not long after the rest of you kids had continued to bake your goodies. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: guess who's baaaack :D no, i didn't warn u of my return, bc i meant for this to be spontaneous (this was intentional). hence why i've been answering the asks in my inbox and saving them in my drafts so i can release them all at once ;)

this chapter is dedicated to @crisis-unaverted-recs i wrote my hiatus notice/announcement at around 11:34pm on the 9th of jan, and she had conveniently been the first to respond. she told me that i am 'not a content farm' and that i 'don't owe anyone my writing'. it might not seem like a lot to anyone else, but for me, it was just the thing that i'd needed to hear at that exact moment. for that, i thank you by dedicating this lengthy chapter to you. ik it's not much, but it's the only way i can show my gratitude, ty.

and for everyone else, tysm for ur patience. it meant the world to me at a time where i was incredibly stressed out with exams. but that hell is over now, and i can finally make up for lost time. ty again <3

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© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.