#hiragi

If he was a little more self-serving, he would’ve told you he loved you back in high school. He would have completely imploded the best and sweetest relationship in his life by telling you—his unnervingly beautiful best friend—that he couldn’t continue on acting like he wasn’t absolutely head over fucking heels for you.

If he wasn’t so concerned about the feelings of others, he might’ve told you the truth of what he thought about the slimy boyfriend—now soon-to-be husband—you started bringing around shortly after graduation. That he was a jerk that looked a little too long at other women and thought he had the slightest bit of a right to police how you acted. 

Toma had a million ifs. But none of it matters, because today is your wedding, and he is not the kind of guy who will ruin your happiness just to satisfy the ache in his chest. He’s pretty sure Umemiya is far too obvious with his long looks of pity he’s been sending Toma since the invitations went out, but he’s also certain that almost everyone in Furin found out about his never-ending crush on you years ago. 

Except, crush has been too small of a word since he was sixteen. Toma is in love.

The ceremony is about to start, and if you’re as punctual as he is, the wedding party will make their entrance in roughly ten minutes. His heart feels like it’s going to slam out of his chest and his stomach is actively revolting against him, but he promised he’d attend the wedding when you personally hand-delivered an invitation and he ran out of gaskun-10 while getting dressed for the event. 

His phone buzzes in the pocket of his suit, signalling a text. He’s sitting between Umemiya and Tsubaki, and his old friends are both far too nosy to not notice when he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check. It’s a message from you, requesting that he meet you in the private room designated for you to get ready. 

He frowns, because he doesn’t know if he can handle seeing you up close, wearing a dress to marry someone that isn’t him. But he’s always been weak for you, so he’s standing to leave in seconds. There’s a moment when he catches Umemiya’s eye while shuffling out of the row of seats past him, and it’s clear the message that his former leader is trying to send him. 

Now’s your last chance.

Not that he would take it. What would be the point? Today is supposed to be the happiest day of your life; he’s not cruel enough to spring feelings on you that you don’t requite. 

He gets more than his fair share of odd looks as he walks down the aisle and out of the ceremony area. Everyone is seated, since the wedding is set to start in only a few moments, but you asked for him, and he’s always been a sucker when it comes to giving you what you want. 

Though he’s not sure he’ll be able to stomach seeing you all dolled up and ready to declare your love to another man in front of your closest friends and family. His hand ghosts over the interior pocket of his suit jacket as he weaves down the unfamiliar hallways he thinks might lead to you, cursing when he comes up empty for any type of medication that would help him. 

He sees a door marked bridal suite and knows he’s at his destination. Still, it takes a moment for him to raise his fist to knock. There’s a mounting pressure gathering in his chest, a tightening of his throat. How unfair, he thinks, that he is the one who sees you before your soon to be husband.

He feels the itch of selfishness crawling up his throat and shoves it deep, deep down. 

He knocks twice against the door in quick succession. Someone he thinks might be the wedding planner races past him down the hallway, muttering under her breath about ‘everything’s going to shit’, which makes him nervous about what he’s going to find on the opposite side of the door. 

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” He calls out. He really needs to kick the habit of calling you sweetheart or any of the other terms of endearment that have rolled off his tongue since he fell in love with you. You’re about to get married, and he knows he’d definitely kick the ass of anyone who called you something so affectionate if he was your husband. 

But he’s not going to be your husband, and the thought sits heavily in the center of his chest. 

He’s about to knock again when the door finally flies open. He’s expecting a million different situations—you need a picture with him, or something heavy needs to be moved, or you want him to deliver a message—but he’s wholly unprepared for what he finds. 

You answer the door in your wedding dress. It’s just as gorgeous on you as he thought it would. Toma feels his heart stop in his chest, then stutter to start again when he sees your watery eyes. Dark makeup runs in wet tracks down your cheeks, lipstick is smeared across your lips from chewing them in anxious worry. 

He feels his golden heart shatter at the sight of you crying on what is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, even if that happy day isn’t celebrated with him at your side. 

“What’s wrong?” He breathes, hands clenched into fists at his sides. You take a step back and he follows forward, until you’re both in the bridal suite and he shuts the door behind him. No one else is around, and he crushes down the surge of bitterness at the realization that you were alone and crying for who knows how long. 

“I don’t want to marry him,” You finally admit, voice cracking in silent admission. You look ashamed, like maybe you should just put your wants and feelings to the side to marry your jerk of a fiancé because you’re causing a fuss. 

And Toma Hiragi is not a selfish man. He’s dedicated himself to those around him since his days in middle school. Sako, Kaji, Umemiya, the whole damn town—he gave everything he had to help them. And it didn’t stop with you. You, the one person who he would give the world to if you merely asked. 

He’s not selfish, but he’s begging to silent gods that he can learn to be. 

“Then don’t.” 

The words leave him faster than he can think them through. His hands are cradling your face before he can second guess all the violence they’ve wrought, thumbs brushing across your cheeks and under the swell of your eyes to clear away spoiled makeup. It’s the most selfish thing he’s ever done, and yet he doesn’t regret it for a single second. 

Not when you breathe a sigh of relief, watery eyes shining with something akin to hope at the realization that he wasn’t going to push you towards marriage. It makes him angry, at himself, for not seeing how unhappy you were before. 

You pull his hands from your face, smooth palm slotting against his like you’re little kids again, holding hands while running from your problems. You show him the back exit that leads to the parking lot and in moments he’s opening the passenger side door of his car for you to climb in. 

There’s a few seconds of clarity, between when he closes the door after ensuring the whole train of your dress is safely tucked inside and crosses over to the driver’s side, that he thinks he processes what the hell is happening. 

He’s helping you run from your wedding. 

Part of him thinks he might’ve acted on impulse, on his feelings for you, but then he remembers your tear stained face admitting that you didn’t want to get married and knows he’d make the same decision every time. 

It’s only once you’re in the car and driving, the moment too emotional for any music in the background, that he realizes that he has no destination in mind other than far, far away. And you deserve better than that, so he nudges you carefully with his elbow. You startle, clearly having been lost in thought, and he spares a few seconds to glance at you carefully from the corner of his eye. 

You look tired. But… relieved, too. Your face is puffy from your previous crying, and yet you look more steady than he had seen you in months. He’ll kick himself later for not noticing how upset you’ve been, but for now he has you at his side and your dreaded wedding in the rearview mirror. 

“Where am I taking you, anyways?” He asks, voice calm. The time to question you about why you’re running from your wedding will be later, and he knows you well enough to understand that you’re probably being hard enough on yourself for what’s happening that you don’t need him joining in. “We can go anywhere you want.”

“Honestly?” You ask, and he can hear the hesitance in your voice. A frown twitches at the corners of his lips when he recognizes the almost unwillingness to share what you want to do. A sudden, selfish, part of him wants to turn the car around and interrogate your—ex?—fiancé about what he could have done that made you look at him in disbelief when he asked what you wanted. 

Instead, he grips the steering wheel a touch tighter and nods. 

“Honestly.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and he risks another glance from the road to look at you again, sitting pretty in his passenger seat in your wedding dress. You’re thinking about his question, clearly, painted lips tugging into a pout so adorable his heart hammers in his chest, and he takes your silence as a chance to dig into his glove box for another package of gaskun-10. 

“Do you remember that noodle place we used to go to after school?” You finally ask, his medicine swallowed and pack tucked into his suit jacket pocket. He knows immediately what you mean, but you’re smiling as you describe it to him, so he lets you keep talking. “The one that had the old cat in the window?”

“That place was shit.” His lips tug up into a grin when you gasp and swat his arm, though you’re also grinning at him and his comment. It’s so worth it. 

“I love that place.” You sigh, suddenly lost in memories of when you were both younger and life seemed simpler. “That’s where I always had you to myself, because no one else would ever want to come with us.” 

“Because it was shit.” He repeats without missing a beat. He catches your eye, and the two of you quickly devolve into laughter. Any tension that had been lingering since pulling far, far away from the wedding venue has long since evaporated. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t good.” You calm from your laughter, a gentle smile on your lips that has him stealing glances from the corner of his eye. You’re not looking at him, but instead out the window. He would give anything to have a glimpse inside your mind. 

“Wanna see if it’s still as bad as we remember?” He offers, selfishly wanting your attention on him and off what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. 

“Can we?” He’s watching the road when you turn to look at him, but he can hear the smile you’re wearing when you speak. He’s always been so weak whenever it comes to you, it’s a miracle he hasn’t given himself away yet. 

Instead, he lets himself be a little selfish with you. 

“Sweetheart, we can do whatever we want.”

“I can’t believe it’s still open.” 

Toma’s eyes drift to you standing beside him, on the sidewalk peering up at the faded sign for the infamous fried noodle restaurant he loves to hate. You look so out of place, at a rundown restaurant like the one he brought you to, in your wedding dress.

But you look a little lighter, and that’s all that matters to him. 

“Shall we?” He asks, nodding his head in the direction of the door. He knows you’re coming to terms with it all. You’d left your phone in the car, powered down, but that didn’t stop the half a dozen missed calls you got before committing to becoming unreachable. He had texted Umemiya once they got out of the car that you were safe, with him, and most likely not coming back. Umemiya had sent a response of an incomprehensible collection of emojis that somehow Toma knew was his encouragement. “My treat.” 

You look like you’re about to argue with him, but then you remember where you are and what happened and what you’re doing, and close your mouth. 

He holds the door open for you, but lets you go in first. He’s in such dangerous territory, so unfamiliar, he’s afraid to breathe wrong and scare you off. Remarkably, you’re handling this whole runaway bride thing incredibly well. He’s just hoping you’re confident enough in your decision that you don’t regret this. And maybe that makes him a little selfish, but he can’t help but cling to any scrap of you he can get. 

Neither one of you is oblivious to the looks you get from the middle aged woman running the cash register. You in your wedding dress and him in the best suit he’s ever worn in his life. Toma can see the way your spine straightens under her appraising eye, and he’s helpless to the way he sets his warm palm against the small of your back. You flinch, quickly, but before he can yank his hand away in embarrassment, you’re leaning back into his touch. He thinks he might be the more skittish one between the pair of you, which considering the day you’ve had, says something about how much of a coward he is when it comes to you. 

He’s still in a daze once you order, and you bring him back to planet Earth with a well placed nudge of your elbow into his ribs that feels like it reaches your heart with how much your touch lights him up. 

He’s able to at least pretend to breathe normal for thirty whole seconds. But then the cashier finishes the transaction, and bows her head politely when handing him the receipt. 

“Congratulations.” 

It’s one word, and he nearly chokes on the air he sucks into his lungs. He knows the lady thinks that you are married to him, and the sheer weight of how much he would kill for the chance to make that true hits him all at once. 

“Thank you,” You smile at the cashier, voice gentle and not bothering to correct her. Toma has to pull out his stomach medicine before he makes it to the booth in the back you picked to sit in. 

It’s a few minutes before he’s able to act normal again. By then, both orders of noodles have arrived and you’re a few bites in. Still, you’re the one to break the silence first, and he’s grateful for it. 

“Are you going to make me talk about it?” You ask him quietly, chopsticks sitting next to your bowl, abandoned after only a taste. You’re frowning, sitting in what’s probably the worst noodle shop he’s ever been to in your wedding dress. 

“Hell no.” What’s supposed to be the best day of your life is rapidly looking like the worst day so far. You don’t look sad about running from the altar, but do you look defeated. He has a sick feeling that it has something to do with your sorry excuse for a—hopefully ex—fiancé.

“Thank you.” That seems to lift some weight from your shoulders, and Toma knows he’s already searching your eyes for ways to make this all easier for you. He knows he can’t fix everything, and maybe all he can do is be your getaway driver and bankroll your shitty meal, but he’s there, and he’s going to try. 

“Don’t thank me.” He shakes his head, dropping his chin and pretending he doesn’t see the tear leak down your cheek. Somber about the finality of it all, he thinks. He’s already trying to think of ways to keep you with him just a little bit longer. “Just eat your noodles.”

“They’re… really bad.” But you pick up your chopsticks, anyways. 

“Yeah.” A grin threatens the corners of his lips. “I think we should order seconds.”

“You read my mind, Toma.” You smile, and it’s a little bit easier to take another bite.

He thinks he might be able to get used to being selfish. As long as it means he gets to see your smile. And maybe next time you’re in a wedding dress, he’ll be lucky enough to stand at the end of the aisle. 

“Heyyyyyy, kiddos!” Umemiya chirped, placing the gaming console on the ground next to the TV. One by one, with a very dad-like grunt, he would pick up the boys in a tight hug.

Nirei was mid-slice of carrots when he was hugged from behind and hoisted. He giggled like a child. “Umemiya! Careful!”

“What’cha cookin’, kid?” the older male inquired, setting the boy down and draping himself across his shoulders.

“Making yakisoba for all of us.”

“Ooooh. Sounds yummy,” he hummed. “And look at you with your hair up! The ladies would just be all over you!” Umemiya made cooing sounds as he pinched at Nirei’s ears, resulting in flustered giggles from the blonde.

Suo was next. As he helped Hiragi set up the gaming system, he was suddenly scooped like a bride. He subconsciously kicked his feet with a tiny gasp. “Hello, Umemiya.”

“Suoooooooo. You’ve been taking care of yourself, right, kid? Not just worried about everyone else, yeah?”

The redhead sighed dismissively. “I’ve got to get this hooked up if we want to play games.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“I—“ he exhaled with that polite smile of his. “Of course I have; it’s just that sometimes, others need my help more than I need rest.”

“Oh! My dear pupil! You wound me so!” The oldest cried out. He cradled Suo to his chest like a baby, gently humming the lullaby song to him.

Sakura scowled. What a dork

That scowl was replaced by a rather manly yelp when he was swept off of his feet and thrown over Umemiya’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Put me down!” he cried. When the white-haired male began to spin him, he pounded his fists against his back. “Umemiya!”

Hiragi huffed with a grin. “Alright, Umemiya, put the kid down.”

“Awwww! But why?!”

“First, he looks nauseous as shit. Second, we got the console set up.”

With a groan from the older male, Sakura was back on his feet. He sat down next to Suo with a huff and crossed his arms. When Suo patted his head, he shot him a glare.

“Hey, Sakura,” Hiragi hummed, “Y’ever play Smash Bros?”

“Heard of it,” he replied. “Never actually played it.” The boys turned to look at him as if he were a space alien. Even Nirei looked up from his vegetable chopping to gape at him. “What?” he asked, confused by their incredulous looks. His patience shortly wore thin. “Okay, what?! Is it like some rite-of-passage game? I bet you’ll shit yourselves when I tell you that I can’t play chess either!”

Suo turned to him with a Cheshire grin. “Now, young Sakura, we are going to teach you the ways of the gamer.”

The boy snorted. “Oh yeah, sure. Like I need to know how to wear the same hoodie for five days straight and shower once every two months.”

Hiragi snorted at that, clapping a heavy hand on Sakura’s shoulder. “Nah, kid. This is just like the party game ever.”

“Wrong,” Nirei called from the kitchen; he hadn’t even turned to look at them, as he was caramelizing onions on the stove. “The party game ever is Mario Party.”

“Wrong again,” Umemiya chimed. “Wii Sports is the way to go.”

“Absolutely not,” argued Suo. “The best one is totally Carnival Games.”

There was a collective groan from all of the boys except Sakura. Hiragi scoffed. “Do you want someone to throw a book at you?”

“Barker is SUCH a bitch, dude!” Nirei cried. There was a subsequent, loud sizzle from the pan in the kitchen.

“Careful now, don’t singe your eyebrows off,” Suo hummed.

Sakura felt like he was missing something again…

A small controller was put into his hand. It was blue, and it had four buttons and a joystick. How simple…

“So, first, you pick who you want to be,” Umemiya hummed, taking a seat next to the boy. “My favorite to play is Kirby. He’s a little hard to get used to because of the timing.”

“Teach him to play Pikachu. He’s like the easiest,” Hiragi mused.

“No way! Teach him to be Lucas! That’s my main!” Nirei chirped. Sakura couldn’t help but grin when the blonde sneezed. At least the food was getting seasoned.

“Of course you play Lucas,” Suo grumbled.

“And who do you two main?” Nirei huffed, stirring the contents of the pan.

“Palutena, duh,” Hiragi reported proudly.

Suo sat next to Umemiya, putting the oldest male in the middle. “Sora main here.”

“Booooo DLC player!” the silver-haired male chided, wrapping his arm around the boy’s neck. “Pay-to-win, Pay-to-win!” he cooed.

Suo’s visible eye rolled, and he snorted. “Paying only gets me the character. It’s the skill that sells it.”

“I wanna be this guy!” Sakura interrupted. “He looks cool.” Hovering his “P2” icon over the character, the boy looked at the rest of the group.

Hiragi gaped at him. “You wanna be…”

“Mister Game and Watch…?” Suo asked.

“What’s wrong with him?!” The half-and-half boy barked, a blush creeping onto his face. “He’s so cool! He’s old-fashioned gaming!”

Umemiya grinned at him. “You’re right. He’s based off of the first ever Nintendo console, the Game and Watch. He was the first video game character to ever exist.”

Sakura’s eyes lit up. “I wanna play him!”

“Game and Watch it is,” Umemiya hummed.

The boys showed Sakura the ropes, and as expected, the young man greatly enjoyed himself. What they were not expecting was how fast he excelled.

“How the hell did you take two stock already?!” Hiragi yelped, fiddling with his joystick in a panic.

“His down smash demolishes. And I can edgeguard with neutral B,” the boy chimed.

“You talk like you’ve been playing this game for years,” Nirei noted.

“Your noodles are boiling over,” Hiragi grumbled at the sound of the bubbling pot.

Game after game, Sakura continued to absolutely destroy his friends in the game. Not a single one of them could defeat him. Even after changing characters, the half-and-half male still managed to steal stock after stock from them.

Now, it was him against Suo for a final deathmatch. Infinite stocks, 10 minutes time, total chaos.

Umemiya watched the screen with a delighted, soft smile. His baby brothers were really getting along, and it warmed his heart to see Sakura enjoying himself.

Delighted and frantic war cries filled the room. They were neck and neck. When one person would take a stock, the other would match it. Each boy was giving it his all, and both were at a stalemate within the first minute.

Soon, Sakura had the up on Suo, and Umemiya was truthfully getting tired of the same narrative over and over again.

Experimentally, he poked a single finger against Sakura’s foot. The boy merely twitched, curling his toes up. When they un-scrunched, he waited for Sakura to charge up a strong attack before he skittered his fingers over it.

“What are you— ngh! D-Doing?!” he yelped, jerking his foot away.

“Nothin’!” chirped the older boy.

“Don’t screw with me. I’m about to beat Suo’s ass!”

“Hardly! We’re one stock apart from each other!” the redhead argued.

“Boys! Don’t argue,” the white-haired male chided. “You’re both the winners in my heart!”

Sakura made a gagging noise, and Suo’s visible eye rolled. Umemiya glared at the two before sneaking a pinch to Suo’s side and a squeeze to Sakura’s kneecap.

For Suo, his response was a small jolt and a death glare.

Sakura on the other hand…

“DON’T!” he exploded, yanking his knee away. His features softened when he realized everyone stopped to stare at him. “S’just a sensitive part of me… Don’t touch it; that’s all.”

Sensitive, hm? He’s sensitive there… Now, Umemiya was not born last night. What Sakura needed to say, but was unable to, is that he was ticklish there. His knees are not sensitive; they’re ticklish.

“Ah, I see,” Umemiya hummed. “You’re ticklish,” he informed bluntly.

Sakura let out a strangled squeak when he was pinched again. “I— I am not!”

“Are.”

“Not!”

“Aaaaare!”

“Nohohohohot!”

Suo grinned evilly when the oldest’s fingers continuously prodded around the half-and-half boy’s right knee.

“Dohohohon’t tihihihickle mehehehehe!”

“Don’t tickle you? But Sakura, you just said you weren’t ticklish! Why would you mind?”

“Ahahahahasshohohohole!”

“Oh! How cruel!”

“Stahahap! Yohohohou’re dihihihistrahahactihihing mehehe!”

Shooting a wink to Suo, Umemiya only continued.

Despite the handicap of his knee being squeezed, Sakura still managed to keep his lead through giggles and jolts of his body. He couldn’t help but blush deeper when he noticed Hiragi watching him with a sweet grin. He was down to the final minute; he could do this!

“Stay on it, kid! It would be a cryin’ shame if you were to… lose focus.” Umemiya’s hands traveled up to squeeze at Sakura’s thighs, his touch unrelenting. “Don’t lose it!”

“Gngh— bahahahastahahahard! Nohohohoho!” he squealed, squirming.

“Hmmm… I thought you weren’t ticklish, Sakura?” the oldest cooed. “This is such an oddity. I wonder what’s happening.”

“Dohohohohon’t! Stahahahahap!”

“Don’t stop? Oh, so you want to lose? Is this like a… giving up control thing? Y’know, my therapist says—“

“Nohohohoho!” Sakura’s character splatted against the screen, and a pillar of lightning followed. He had lost a stock, damn it! “Stohohohop dihihihistrahahahactihihihing mehehehe! Bahahahastard!”

“Sounds like a skill issue, Little Sakura,” Suo cooed, poking the boy in the side.

“Ughhhhh! Stahahahap ihihihit! Yohohohou two suhuhuhuck!” Sakura whined. His laughter grew in pitch when he felt skittering fingers on his foot

Hiragi was grinning evilly, his free hand around the half-and-half boy’s ankle, his other hand tickling his foot with precision. Now within the final seconds of the match, the boys were tied. Suo had the upper hand because of this cheating! But Sakura was determined to keep his streak alive. He focused his attention into a down smash slam… followed by a side B—

“NAHAHAHAHA! DOHOHOHOHON’T!” he cried. Umemiya’s squeezing hands traveled up to his ribs and prodded around. “NONONONONOHOHOHOHOHO!”

The oldest smiled beamingly. “Don’t lose, kid! Keep it going!”

“UHUHUHUMEHEHEHEMIHIHIHIYAHAHAHA! HIHIHIRAHAHAHAGIHIHIHI! NOHOHOHOHO!”

Five… four… three… two…

“Shit!”

“No!”

“How did he—?!”

“GAME!”

“YEHEHEHEHES! YEHEHEHEHES!”

“That little shit.” Suo grumbled. He tossed his controller to the side and tackled the giggling Sakura to the floor—though, there wasn’t very far for him to travel. Umemiya and Hiragi let go with surprised chuckles. “So, Little Sakura, how’d you manage to cheat?”

“Cheat?! It was you three cheating! I could’ve easily whooped your ass into next Sunday if you weren’t t-tick… t-tickl—distracting me!”

“Ohhhh, distracting you, hm?” the redhead teased. “Don’t you mean tickling you?”

“I see; I see,” Hiragi hummed. “He was mad that we tickled him.”

“Oohoohoo!” Umemiya cooed. “Little Sakura can’t handle the word tickle!”

“I guess so. Look at how red he gets when we say the world tickle around him,” Suo observed.

The white-haired male couldn’t help but giggle at Sakura’s increasing blush. “Mhm. Mhm. How curious… I’m just tickled by this information.

“Shut up; shut up; shut up!” The boy whined. “You three are terrible! Nirei’s my only friend now!”

The blonde let out a little cheer from the kitchen.

“What I think is that you need to tell us how you managed to get so good in only an hour,” Hiragi said with a death glare.

Suo’s hold on him got a bit tighter. “We have our ways.”

Hold on… Were they gonna hurt him…?! They were just having fun and being—

“Relax,” the redhead whispered as he held Sakura’s arms over his head. He shifted to sit on his hands. “We would never hurt ya’, Little Sakura.”

Before he could relax, Suo dug into his underarms without mercy. “WAITWAITWAIT NAHAHAHAHAO! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERERE!” he squealed, kicking his legs.

Umemiya grabbed onto his knees and squeezed both of them, cooing at him. “Ooooh tickle tickle tickle, kiddo! You’re so precious!”

As if he couldn’t have been more embarrassed! A blush formed at his neck as he screamed in laughter.

“GUHUHUHUYS!”

Suo smiled sweetly at him: a rare, genuine sight. “Hmm?”

“IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHEHES!”

“I’m sure it does,” the redhead chimed. “Why, I’d be down for the count if I was being tickled riiiiight here!” Giving the half-and-half boy a break by moving his fingers to his neck.

In turn, Sakura’s laughter died to gentle giggling once more, as Umemiya had picked up on the signal and moved down to run his fingers up and down the boy’s calf. He wriggled slightly, his body merely twitching in response.

“You’ve been carrying so much on your shoulders… Why don’t you just lay back and laugh for a while?” Suo’s whispered voice in his ear caused a warm vibration to spread from his head to his toes. His blush spread to his ears and face now.

He nodded.

The redhead shot Hiragi a knowing look, and soon enough, there were skittering fingers on Sakura’s feet again.

The half-and-half boy lay there giggling like a child. His eyes were squeezed shut in mirth, and his body jittered from the tickly feeling. Daresay, he was… enjoying it. The gentle treatment went on for minutes, and his giggling was rather cheerful.

At least, until Umemiya decided that he had had enough of a break.

Sakura felt Suo getting off of his wrists, the other murmuring something about “not wanting to trap him.” As he went to sit up, to curse out his friends, he was pushed back to the floor with a heavy weight on his hips.

“So… you gonna tell us how you did it?” asked the eldest, a terrifying calmness on his face.

Giggles started flooding out of him like routine. His hands, now free—albeit trembling—shot up to grip his senior’s wrists.

The two held intense eye contact until Umemiya’s lips curled into a sweet smile. “Oh, kid. You’re just too cute.”

And then, Sakura felt two hands on his sides and tummy like lightning. He didn’t even get a chance to react! His hips bucked upward as a strangled yelp left his lips, all before he dissolved into sweet laughter. “Nohohohoho!”

“Oh, yes. See, when the head of Bofurin asks you a question, Sakura, it’d be wise of you to answer,” Suo chirped, sitting cross-legged with that patient, polite smile of his.

The half-and-half boy couldn’t even keep his grip on Umemiya’s wrists, especially not when they traveled up to his ribs. Sakura’s laughter grew in volume, his tummy quivering in the cold air as his shirt rode up.

Innocently, Suo’s two fingers crept up his side like walking limbs. They strolled along his sides and traced torturous circles along the bare skin before pinching around his belly button. The boy tossed his head back and cackled loudly when a finger dipped inside.

“Such stamina,” Hiragi praised. “I wonder what’ll make you crack.”

“I know,” Umemiya chirped, “but our little friend here is enjoying himself; I can tell; best not to tucker him out so fast!”

And all good things, as beautiful and sweet; as torturous and breath-stealing; as giddy and exciting as they may be, must come to an end. Despite his enjoyment, it would be Haruka Sakura who would end his own merriment.

“Ihihihi cahahahan tahahahake ihihihit!”

Tsk tsk tsk… poor baby.

So confident…

All of that confidence melted away when Umemiya’s hands shot up under Sakura’s arms without warning. His back arched off the ground and thrashed madly, trying to escape. The white-haired male’s fingers followed wherever he would attempt, leaving no opportunity for escape.

Suo continued his soft treatment of the boy’s stomach, utilizing gentle prods and tracing over anything else. As the tummy beneath his fingers would jolt and twitch, he’d only smile, resting his cheek on Sakura’s lower ribs. One finger turned to two hands raking around the sensitive skin.

“Uuuup, and dooooown, and aaaaalll arooooound. Only the softest touch for my Little Sakura.~” he cooed.

Meanwhile, Sakura could barely think. The back of his head was glued to the floor while his back arched up. Umemiya’s weight on his hips rendered him immobile, with his arms free but just shy of stopping Suo’s torturous caresses. He could form no thoughts in his mind; he could move no limb to protest. He could scream his head off as his blush swallowed his whole face.

“Hmm… That redness looks quite serious, Suo, my friend. What are your thoughts?” inquired Umemiya, not ceasing his tickling for a second.

“Mhm, I agree… he’s far too flushed to continue for long,” mused the redhead. “Say, Umemiya, would you arch your back upward for me? Make a little room, please.” When his senior obliged, Suo smiled that calm, patient grin. “Now, Sakura, I know you can’t hear me right now, as you’re being far too noisy—for reasons I’m totally unsure of—but I think it’s time for myself to show our upperclassmen how to solve a problem. Don’t you?”

Belly laughter was the answer he received.

“Now… what to do…” he drummed his fingers along the warm, bare skin of the boy’s tummy. “Ah! Yes, naturally. Here we go!” With a deep breath, Suo ducked his head down and blew a raspberry onto Sakura’s skin.

“OHOHOHOHO SHIHIHIHIHIHIT! NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

“Ah! Umemiya, he seemed to enjoy it. Please arch upward once again!” Another breath, another raspberry.

“SHITSHITSHITSHIT! SHIHIHIHIT! FUHUHUHUCK!”

“Such a rotten mouth!” Umemiya cried out, honing in on Sakura’s underarms with a bit more fervor. He looked down evilly at the boy—a side which Sakura had seen only once before. A simple command was given to him; one that he would be able to ignore for a few good minutes. “Crack.”

And yet, nothing. Sakura’s screams of laughter were merely background noise for the tiny apartment.

“OHOHOHOHO MY GOHOHOHOHOD! SHIHIHIHIT!” Accompanied Hiragi’s attempt to study the controllers better.

“NOHOHOHOHO! BAHAHAHASTARDS! HYEAHAHAHAHAHA!” Was a sweet symphony to join Nirei’s plating of their meal.

The two continued their ruthless attack on the younger boy. Despite his hot blush, the intensity of their tickling, and the duration, Sakura still was going on strong. Umemiya ought to be the one to put his baby brother to bed after as an apology.

Raspberry after raspberry, Suo continued without mercy. His repetition led him to an experiment of sorts: berries toward the sides and hips were less ticklish, while berries toward the ribs and atop of the belly button were the most. He breathed in heavy for another one until he heard a frantic plea.

“OHOHOHOHO FUHUHUHUCK! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!”

He sighed, sitting up. However, Sakura was still hoarse with merriment. “Umemiya.”

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE! STAHAHAHAP STOP!”

“…Umemiya!”

“IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAKE IHIHIT! STAHAHAHAP!”

“Hajime!”

When Umemiya’s fingers came to a halt, and Sakura’s upper body fell backwards, Suo was there to catch him. He gently pat the boy’s back as he caught his breath, subsequently snaking his hand under Sakura’s white top to rub the warm skin of his back.

“Just breathe, Sakura. Don’t speak; just breathe,” Suo soothed in a whisper.”

Umemiya’s fingers started to gently brush through his hair. “Shit, kid— Haruka, I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay… had… lots’a… fun…” rasped the boy.

A delicious smell of meat and veggies entered their noses, and a huge bowl of Yakisoba was soon prepared on the counter.

“Eat up,” Nirei hummed. “Get his strength back up.”

The half-and-half boy was gently shook, but he only groaned, clinging onto Suo’s free arm. Hiragi huffed with a fond grin, bringing back an extra plate for Suo, while Umemiya did the same for Sakura.

The five boys shared their meal in total delight. Sakura stayed glued to Suo for a good five minutes, eyes shut—at least until he realized that he was snuggled up to the redhead, then he promptly shot up like a spring, his blush creeping back. It was at this point where he would begin his meal.

After food was shared, Hiragi offered to clean up, while Umemiya offered to wash the dishes. While the two older men completed their cleaning, the Switch was booted back up. Nirei quickly loaded into the game and selected his main fighter. He took his hair out of the ring ponytail… Business…

And finally, throughout a day full of losses and revenge, Haruka Sakura was at last defeated.

Game and Watch: Many

Lucas: 1

Nirei’s laughter would bounce off of the walls of the flat soon after, Sakura’s following in hot pursuit. Suo’s soft giggles would follow along his tickling fingers. A smile of true joy at Nirei’s adorable snorts would form on his lips.

Umemiya couldn’t help but smile at the sight and sound of his baby brothers’ delight.