#yatamoto

Ah, shit.

As Tatara introduced Misaki and Saruhiko to their new clan, it finally clicked in Misaki’s head why that blond guy looked so familiar.

“I’m Kamamoto Rikio, nice to meet you.”

His best friend when he was about 7 years old had been called Kamamoto, too. Except back then he’d been chubby and meek, and now he was tall and lithe, his hair reaching down to his collar, and a welcoming smile spreading across his handsome face. Then again, Misaki had looked very different when they were kids too. He greeted the two new members with kind confidence. Misaki hadn’t seen the spark of recognition he was dreading in his eyes yet, but maybe Rikio just had a good poker face.

Still, Rikio didn’t say anything aside from that, so the brief jolt of fear that Rikio would out him to his new clan slowly subsided as the rest of the members introduced themselves.

Or at least, it subsided until Rikio approached him later on in the day. Misaki was by himself – Saruhiko had left not long before, saying his PDA battery was nearly dead so he wanted to head out to get his charger (though Misaki thought it was likely someone would have a compatible charger handy, but Saruhiko had left before Misaki had a chance to suggest he ask around). The moment Rikio sat down beside him, out of earshot of the rest of the patrons of the bar and a conspicuously short while after Misaki had been left alone, suspicion flared in Misaki’s gut.

“So… I thought you looked familiar earlier but I couldn’t quite put my finger on where I knew you from…” Rikio began, and Misaki felt himself tense, like a dog raising its hackles. “And it clicked a little while later but it seemed like something that should be discussed privately. We were friends when we were kids, weren’t we?”

“What’s it to you?” Misaki wondered in the back of his mind if maybe he shouldn’t be so snippy towards his new clan members if he was supposed to be making friends, but it had just sort of slipped out that way. The alarm he’d thought had vanished had flared up again with a vengeance, and he quickly found himself on the defensive. Panic was beginning to constrict his chest; Homra was supposed to be his new start where nobody knew, where he could just be himself without having to worry about the looks he’d get behind his back. To have it ruined so soon…

“Well, I remember you as, well, a girl, but Totsuka-san referred to you with masculine pronouns, and I just wanted to make sure…”

“Yeah, I’m a dude now, so what?” Misaki hissed. “You lost a bunch of weight but I ain’t gonna go around telling everyone you used to be fat when you were a kid, and if you know what’s best for you…”

Looking somewhat taken aback by Misaki’s aggression, Rikio interrupted: “Oh, no no, I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. I just wanted to make sure I really had gotten the right person, and so I knew how to refer to you – you still use the same name, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t like people calling me by my first name…” Admittedly, Misaki was a little caught off guard by how Rikio was handling this – he didn’t have much experience with people just accepting that he was transgender like it was no big deal.

“I can’t say I know much about this kind of stuff, but we were friends, so you can trust me. I won’t tell the others. Can’t say I ever really saw you as a girl anyway… you were always different to Ayumi and everyone else I knew. But like I said, I’m not super educated on all this stuff…”

“Ask away,” Misaki grumbled. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to be so accommodating; he supposed he felt bad for snapping at Rikio pre-emptively, and part of him was just… weirded out by how nice he was being. “But not about any weird stuff!”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Just Fushimi. We went to the same middle school before I was out. I don’t figure anyone else needs to.”

“And… pardon me if I phrase this wrong… how do you look so much… well, like a guy?”

“I get a shot of testosterone in my ass every few weeks.”

“Ahh, I didn’t know that was a thing people could do… I almost didn’t recognise you, it was only when Totsuka-san said your name that I realised who you were. I won’t ask you too much about the details, just… is there anything you don’t want me to say or call you, or anything you don’t want me to do…?”

“Just don’t say girly shit about me, and call me by my family name and not my first name, and obviously don’t tell anyone, otherwise it’s fine.”

Rikio nodded, seeming satisfied, and then to Misaki’s relief he changed the subject. “I always wondered what became of you after I moved away, you know. I missed you, and I’m glad you’re at Homra; it’s good to see you after all this time. We should catch up some time – I just bought a bunch of new games in the sales, do you still like playing video games?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You could come over some time and we could hang out… Maybe not exactly like old times ‘cause we’re grown up and stuff now.”

“You mean you’re thin and I’m a guy?”

Rikio chuckled. “I’m not always, you know. I just lose my appetite in the warmer months, but as soon as autumn rolls around, I put it all back on again.”

“That’s weird.”

“Says you,” Rikio poked back, but his tone was gentle and he was smiling. It was a bit like the playful but harmless banter he’d seen the other clan members exchanging all day. He seemed genuinely happy to see his old friend, and for the most part unperturbed by how different he looked now. He just spoke to him the way he spoke to everyone else.

It was then that Misaki realised that, for the first time, he was really one of the guys. And it felt good.

Maybe it was that feeling that made Misaki leave Saruhiko on the backburner, but he was just so quiet and gloomy all the time, and it was difficult to include him when he sat off in some corner of the bar on his PDA, while Misaki wanted to hang out with his new guy friends, and with Rikio. It was refreshing to reconnect with his old friend again, especially when Rikio had seemingly taken it upon himself to be as supportive as humanly possible. He had obviously done hours of research after learning that Misaki was a trans man, and started doing things like reminding Misaki to take his binder off when he’d been wearing it too long, offering to teach him how to shave his facial hair when pubescent stubble started to sprout across his jawline, and yelling at the other clansmen whenever they made jokes in poor taste, even though they were never directed a Misaki.

Misaki even eventually started to feel comfortable talking about that sort of stuff with him – asking Rikio if his voice seemed lower, going to him to celebrate the little bits of progress, like the muscle gain he’d been noticing, and the trail of wiry hairs leading down from his belly button. Rikio always greeted the announcements with enthusiasm and support. He had even offered to travel with Misaki to Thailand for top surgery out of his own pocket when Misaki could afford the procedure, and he’d gently advised Misaki to speak to Izumo about helping to fund it, but hadn’t pressed the matter when Misaki had refused.

As worried as Misaki had been when he joined Homra, Rikio’s kindness had eased his fears as he got settled in the clan and got to know everyone, and nobody gave him odd looks or snickered behind his back. He was one of the guys – nobody treated him like he was fragile, or offered to carry heavy things for him, nobody pulled their punches because they were worried he couldn’t hold his own, and it was a dream come true. It wasn’t long before Misaki started to feel like he belonged, rather than feeling like some imposter who everyone just saw as a girl. For the first time in a really long time, he was truly happy.

And then Saruhiko betrayed him.

It took Misaki a long time to finally wander out of the dark alleyway where his old friend had left him; he had stood there for ten minutes in shock after he’d walked away, so numb he could barely move, barely even think.

When his limbs finally started cooperating again, the first place he thought to go to was Rikio’s. When he arrived, his shock had given way to rage, and he was pissed, ranting and raving and pacing around the living room as he yelled about the nerve of him, how dare he disrespect Homra that way. It was only when he’d shouted himself hoarse that he finally collapsed onto the couch beside his friend, and suddenly hot tears were pricking in his eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop them spilling over. Rikio put his arm around him and pulled him in to weep against his shoulder.

Misaki didn’t know how long he cried for, but nothing he did would stop the flood of tears, stop the ragged breaths tearing up his throat. Every sob mortified him a little more.

“Y-you better not tell anyone about this,” he warned weakly, when he’d finally cried himself out, his voice still thick with tears.

“Your secrets are safe with me,” Rikio reassured. “But being upset doesn’t make you any less of a man, you know. Men are allowed to feel emotions too, you’re allowed to be sad and cry, especially in a situation like this. Don’t bottle it up. If you need to cry, cry – even through tears, you could still beat up anyone who dared to make fun of you.”

Misaki felt a little better after that.

Slowly, he started to heal, but feeling better only came with a lot of help from Rikio. Misaki spent a lot of nights at his friend’s place in those first few weeks, ranting or drinking or crying or distracting himself, doing whatever he could think of to try and take the edge off as Rikio listened without complaint. And when Misaki had shown up on his doorstep one day, teary-eyed with a sharps container and a vial, mumbling about how Saruhiko had always given him his T shots before and Misaki was no good at it, Rikio agreed without hesitation to take over the duty.

Eventually, all the yelling and crying and not thinking about it kind of worked. Missing his friend didn’t hurt all the time anymore, and the keen pang of the knowledge that he was gone, which sometimes had hurt so much that Saruhiko might as well have burned off Misaki’s insignia as well as his own, slowly faded into an intermittent ache. Eventually, it subsided to the point that sometimes, it didn’t bother him at all, like a broken bone that had healed up, but when you moved just so the scarring would twinge, reminding him impatiently not to forget about the pain all together. Some days it hurt worse than others. Some days it really stung to remember that the first person who had known about him and supported him for who he was, the person who he’d thought would be by his side forever, was gone now.

But no matter what, Rikio was always there for him, even on the worst days. And Misaki was sure he wouldn’t have healed as fast if it wasn’t for him.

And then all of a sudden Rikio started acting… weird. It was a few months after Saruhiko had left when his personality seemed to morph completely in the space of a few days. He became oddly quiet, he didn’t ask Misaki to hang out so much anymore, he seemed distracted, almost nervous, and whilst he was unfailingly there for Misaki when the rage or the sadness bubbled back to the surface, the rest of the time he seemed weirdly distant. Like he was uncomfortable or something. Misaki immediately jumped to the worst conclusions – maybe he was embarrassed by Misaki getting upset, or he was uncomfortable or didn’t want to help him anymore, maybe he was weirded out by giving Misaki his T shots, weirded out by Misaki being trans in general, maybe now he’d had some time to think about it he wasn’t cool with it after all, maybe he still saw Misaki as a girl and was uncomfortable around him because of it, maybe, maybe, maybe…

It was a while before Misaki snapped – as much as the worries about why his friend was acting like this chased each other around in his head, equally, he was almost embarrassed to say something about it. After a couple of weeks or so, he reluctantly came to the conclusion that he was scared of losing Rikio too, of him leaving just like Saruhiko had left, and confronting him would make all of this real. It might even be the last straw in making Rikio abandon him too.

Since Misaki joined Homra, Rikio had slowly become his best friend, the person he trusted the most, the person he always thought of first to talk to about stuff, and now he was withdrawing and Misaki was terrified to admit he was terrified. Confronting Rikio about his weird behaviour would mean acknowledging he really was pulling away, and Misaki was growing more and more petrified of losing him, because he was coming to the uncomfortable conclusion that he cared about Rikio more than anyone else in the world. Rikio was like his safe place, his comrade in arms, the person who always had his back no matter what. It was sort of scary to care about him this much, after the last person who he’d gotten this close to had abandoned him…

Was he as close as he’d been to Saruhiko?

That was kind of an alarming thought.

Because, if Misaki was completely honest with himself, he had sort of had a crush on his old best friend. And by ‘sort of’ he meant he was almost definitely in love with him, which was why it had broken him so much when he left.

Of course, Misaki was never honest with himself, partly because he had this idea in his head that being in love with a man was a girly thing, and that being gay meant being effeminate and having a lisp and all of these things that made Misaki really uncomfortable. Manly guys went out and picked up hot girls, right? (Not that Misaki could do that seeing as women mildly terrified him – he had never been good at relating to them before he came out, and the other girls had always picked on him for being tomboyish, and now he just felt awkward around them because he knew he was supposed to think they were hot, but the feelings just wouldn’t come no matter how hard he willed them to.) Besides, guys also didn’t talk about their feelings with their guy friends, so he resolved not to talk to Rikio about how he felt about his behaviour, no matter how much it stung.

But as stubbornly as he pretended not to feel the feelings, no amount of pretending they didn’t exist would stop them gnawing at him, and as summer rolled around, he found himself sitting grumpily by himself in the corner of the bar as pretty girl after pretty girl flirted with Rikio, and Misaki found himself resenting every flutter of their eyelashes and every flirty giggle. He practically exuded irritability as he seethed quietly by himself, the aura of malice warning away anyone who might have dared come near.

When Rikio finally seemed to notice his sour mood, he disentangled himself from the girls keeping him company and came over to sit beside his friend, Misaki was almost taken aback that he even bothered.

“You alright?” Rikio asked softly, and something about his caring tone made Misaki bristle.

“Yeah,” Misaki grumbled unconvincingly.

“What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Is it about Fushimi?”

“No,” Misaki hissed.

“Would you feel better if we got out of here?”

“I wouldn’t wanna pull you away from your friends over there.” He couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

“I’m not really interested, Kusanagi-san just likes me to chat the female patrons up a bit, then they buy more drinks.”

Misaki clicked his tongue.

“There’s no harm in it.”

There was a moment of quiet.

“Are you jealous…?” Rikio hazarded.

Misaki panicked for a moment before realising that Rikio was probably asking if Misaki was jealous that Rikio was getting all this attention and he wasn’t, and not if Misaki was jealous over Rikio being flirted with.

“N-no!”

“Because you’re a handsome guy, you’re just a little more intimidating, it isn’t that girls don’t like you, they’re just a little nervous talking to you.”

“I don’t care if girls don’t wanna talk to me.” The words escaped before Misaki intended them to, but thankfully Rikio didn’t look too far into it.

“Shall we go back to mine and play video games or something? It’s kinda stuffy in here anyway,” Rikio asked again, seemingly ignoring the implications of what Misaki had just said.

“…Fine,” he conceded, giving in to his sudden desire for Rikio to be as far away from the flirtatious patrons as possible. But for the rest of the way back to Rikio’s, Misaki was deathly silent, almost suspicious of his friend’s kindness, and Rikio made no further attempt to pester him for an explanation.

Indeed, they barely spoke at all the rest of the afternoon, besides Rikio offering him a drink and asking if there was a game he preferred to play, and the silence grew more and more unbearable until Misaki finally tossed his controller down onto the couch in frustration.

“Yata-san, are you okay? You’ve been acting weird all day…”

“Well you’ve been acting weird for weeks!” Misaki countered hotly. He hadn’t meant to bring it up, not in that moment, or indeed ever, but the words bubbled up in his throat like bile before he could swallow them back. “What is it that’s bugging you? Why are you avoiding me? Do you think I’m pathetic for being hung up over that asshole, do you think I’m weak for being upset? Do you want me to just get the fuck over it already? Or did you finally figure out you’re weird about me being trans after all, and you just didn’t know how to say it?! Why are you treading on eggshells around me?!”

Rikio simply looked shocked by the outburst and he said softly: “No… It’s nothing like any of that…”

“Then what is it?!”

“I’m just… nervous…” the quiet sadness in Rikio’s voice almost made Misaki feel bad – he’d never seen Rikio subdued like this before, but his vision was still tinted a little too crimson for the guilt to break through.

“About what?” he snapped.

Rikio seemed hesitant for a second, and in that moment, dozens of awful possibilities of what he might say thundered into Misaki’s consciousness all at once.

Rikio inhaled deeply, then released it in a shaky exhale before finally saying: “Since Fushimi left, we’ve been spending so much time together, and at first I didn’t really realise what it was… When we were kids, I sort of had this puppy crush on you, but obviously nothing ever came of it because I was too shy to say anything… We were kids anyway, it’s not like anything could have happened… Anyway, being with you all the time I sort of felt like that again, except it was stronger, a lot stronger. I didn’t even know I was really into guys that much but it’s kind of… I don’t know, I’ve had crushes and girlfriends before but this felt… different. More intense. And I had a lot of figuring stuff out to do – like I said, being into a guy was kind of a shock, and I needed some time to think over it all, but I didn’t want to leave you alone if you were still having a rough time of it so I just didn’t say anything…” His pauses between phrases were lengthy and uncertain, as though he was having difficulty stringing the words together and directing them out of his mouth, and he didn’t make eye contact as he spoke. “S-so yeah… now you know…”

Misaki stared at his friend, dumbfounded. Even if he had the slightest idea what to say, he couldn’t have mustered the ability to form coherent speech if he tried. His anger had evaporated, leaving behind nothing but astonishment. Of all the things Misaki had worried his friend was going to say, he hadn’t even considered this.

At his friend’s silence, Rikio seemed to wilt, taking it as a bad sign. “S-sorry…” he began.

At the expression on Rikio’s face and the kicked puppy look about him, Misaki’s ability to speak rematerialized all at once, and he interrupted: “N-no! Don’t be…” He paused. “Sorry for being a dick.”

“You had a right to be upset with me, I shouldn’t have let it affect my behaviour.”

“I get it…”

“I don’t even know if you’re into guys…”

“N-...” Misaki opened his mouth to deny it, but even the first sound rang false, as much as he didn’t want to believe it. “…I dunno. Aren’t most gay guys like… really into Lady Gaga and girly shit and they talk like this,” Misaki said, putting on an exaggerated impression of the stereotypical gay lisp.

“Not necessarily. There are some men like that, but you don’t have to be like that to be gay, or to be interested in men at all. And you don’t have to be gay to be into guys, you could be bisexual or pansexual or something like that.”

Misaki pursed his lips. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember ever having a crush on a girl. Even when he was figuring out his gender and toyed with the idea that his disconnect with his own identity might be because he was a lesbian, even then he had never really been attracted to girls. But still…

“I’m into guys, apparently, and I’m not effeminate…”

“Are you sure, though?”

“Yata-san, since you first joined Homra I haven’t seen you as anything but a guy, okay? Besides, I’m not the only guy in Homra who’s into men and isn’t all those stereotypical things you mentioned - so is Mikoto-san,” Rikio pointed out.

“Mikoto-san is gay?!” Now that was a revelation.

“I don’t know if he’s gay or something else, but he does like guys. You didn’t know that? Have you not seen the way he looks at Totsuka-san?”

Misaki looked at him blankly.

“I guess you aren’t all that experienced with that stuff, so you might not have noticed...”

“J-just looking at a guy doesn’t make someone gay…” Misaki grumbled.

“I’ve walked in on them making out more than once.”

“…Okay yeah I guess that does.”

“If you are into guys, you don’t have to change anything about yourself, you can still just be you how you are now. There are lots of masculine gay men. And liking men doesn’t make you just a straight girl masquerading as a guy or fetishizing gay men or anything, I know there are people that say that but they’re talking out of their asses.”

Misaki nodded slowly, chewing over what Rikio had said.

“Obviously, there’s no pressure to give an answer on what I’ve said right away, or to say yes… If you’re still figuring yourself out it’s okay not to want a relationship or anything,” Rikio said quietly. There was an air of nervousness about him.

Misaki let out a long sigh, looking at his friend. Knowing that Mikoto had a boyfriend but was still strong and cool and didn’t do girly stuff had completely altered his perspective. Whenever his crushes on Saruhiko and then Rikio had flared past the point of idle fantasy and wandered into the territory of actively daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with them, it had always sort of stoked his dysphoria. He supposed it had something to do with the idea that he hated the idea of being the “girl” in any relationship, or needing to be effeminate in order to be with a man. If that wasn’t the case…

Now, when he let himself imagine kissing his friend or holding his hand, the twinge of discomfort kept quiet.

After a long moment, Misaki finally piped up quietly: “D-do you wanna go for coffee together…?”

Rikio blinked in surprise. “Like a date?”

“Y-yeah…”

A small, genuine smile crossed Rikio’s lips. “I’d like that.”

They met the next day (after Misaki had spent far longer than he intended fretting over what to wear) outside a café not far from Homra, big enough that they’d have some privacy beneath the chatter of the other patrons, but still cosy. Rikio ordered some fruity iced coffee frappé thing that Misaki didn’t understand the appeal of, and Misaki just got an ice tea. They sat together in a booth near the back of the shop as Misaki teased Rikio gently about his weird girly drink.

“It’s good, I promise. Here, you shouldn’t knock it until you try it,” Rikio said, pushing the cup across the table for Misaki to take a sip.

“Fine, fine,” Misaki said, lifting the cup to his mouth, but it was only when he wrapped his lips around the straw that Rikio had just been drinking from that he realised this counted as an indirect kiss. A blush blossomed across his cheeks and he took the quickest sip he could before setting the drink back down.

“You did that on purpose, d-didn’t you?”

Rikio tilted his head. “Did what?”

“The indirect kiss!”

“O-oh… I didn’t even think of that…” Rikio confessed, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

Misaki clicked his tongue bashfully, and he noticed Rikio smiling. “What?”

“Just think it’s… I dunno, I like it when you do that tongue click thing. It’s kind of cute.”

“S-shut up…” Misaki had always hated being called cute when he was younger, but when Rikio said it it was oddly flattering. Mostly mortifying, though.

“Anyway, what do you think of the drink?” Rikio asked, still smiling.

“It’s… not as bad as I thought, I guess,” he confessed.

Rikio smiled. "You shouldn't knock things until you try them."

Misaki rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, the girly drink is okay."

After that, they changed the subject, mostly chatting about idle stuff as they sipped their drinks. Misaki found himself unreasonably anxious the entire time, even though he'd gotten a drink with his friend countless times before and chattered away with him exactly like this, putting the label of "date" on it suddenly made him very self-aware, and very aware of Rikio, every time he tucked his hair behind his ear, his every little smile, the way the glimpse of his collarbone above the neckline of his tank top made Misaki's heartbeat flutter... He tried to put it out of his mind, but he couldn't quite stop himself from staring, and he knew Rikio had noticed by the way he was blushing and shifting under his gaze.

The topic of conversation drifted after a little while onto Misaki's irritability yesterday, as Rikio tried to make sure he had really been okay, and Misaki was forced to admit (in a grumble) that Rikio had been more correct than Misaki had let on in his assessment that Misaki was jealous. Just wrong about what he'd been jealous over.

"It really bothers you that they act like that?" Rikio still didn’t seem to have caught on.

"W-well yeah, I hate how girls fawn over you in the summer and then pretend you don't even exist in the winter as if you're any less attractive." It was the truth, but it wasn't the entirety of the reason.

"I am though..."

"H-hey! You're still hot in the winter, alright?! Anyone who says you aren't just 'cause you put on a few extra pounds doesn't deserve to be able to ogle at you in the summer!" Misaki hadn't intended to be quite so vehement about it.

"You really think so?"

"I know so," he replied sternly.

A small, genuine smile flickered across Rikio's lips that made Misaki's chest feel funny, and suddenly he felt obligated to admit the truth - Rikio had been honest about how he felt for Misaki yesterday, but Misaki hadn't actually said he felt the same in so many words yet, and he wanted his friend to know that he cared about him, that he didn't have to feel self-conscious because Misaki felt that way all the time... for longer than he'd really admitted to himself, in fact.

"M-most of the reason I was jealous was because... I-I didn't want you to be flirting with anyone else...!" The confession had taken physical effort to force past his lips.

"Are you saying...?"

"I-I like you, idiot. And it pissed me off that they were all goo-goo eyes over you."

Their hands were resting on the table, and Rikio moved his own ever so slightly so that his fingertips were loosely tangled with Misaki's. "I’m glad…”

"S-so... what, are we like b-boyfriends now or something?"

"If you want to be." A glimmer of hopefulness that made Misaki's heart feel like it was melting crossed Rikio's face.

Misaki couldn't quite summon the strength to say the word yes - his head was spinning too quickly with the shock of all this, of his first real relationship, of admitting he cared about his best friend and his best friend cared about him the same way, so he just nodded, and Rikio's grasp on his hand tightened as a look of joy crossed his face.

"I want that too."

Despite how anxious and how embarrassed Misaki was to be in this position, where everything was so foreign to him and he had no practice or experience to guide him, he found himself smiling. Yeah, he didn't really know what he was doing, or how relationships worked or what one was supposed to do when they were dating someone of their own gender and how to navigate coming to terms with his sexuality or how his gender identity would fit within all this, but he found himself excited to figure it out along the way if he could have Rikio by his side.

By then, their drinks were empty, and the pair made a move to leave, though as they wandered out of the café, Misaki found Rikio once again twining their fingers, and when he looked up at his friend - boyfriend in surprise, Rikio merely smiled, and moved to loosen the grip in case Misaki was uncomfortable, but Misaki squeezed his hand tighter. Holding his hand felt good; his fingers were warm and soft and seemed to fit perfectly between Misaki's own, and Misaki found he enjoyed the sensation more than he ever expected to. The realisation that they were together, that he could do this whenever he wanted, took caught Misaki off guard. It had all happened in such an understated way that he could barely even process that it was real. Suddenly his head was filled with a whirlpool of fantasies that he hadn't dared think about before - what it would be like to cuddle with him, not just a friendly hug or an embrace when one of them was upset, but proper romantic cuddling, and then there was kissing, which Misaki couldn't even think about without turning red.

"I d-don't wanna go home yet," Misaki blurted out suddenly.

"Me neither. Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere…"

Rikio gave this little affectionate smile, obviously able to tell Misaki was a little overwhelmed, so he took the lead and guided Misaki to a park not far away, where the two of them took a seat on a bench in the shade of a tree.

They were quiet for a moment, and then Rikio spoke up tentatively. "I don't wanna make this a focal point of our relationship or anything, but I want to ask now, just so I don't mess up or hurt you or make you uncomfortable... Is there anything... like, are there any ground rules you wanna set in regards to you being trans? Anything you want me to do or don't want me to do?"

"Not that you aren't already doing. Just... don't treat me different than you would any other guy, and don't talk about me the way you'd talk about a girl; don't call me pretty or anything like that. And don't like... look at my chest when I don't have my binder on. O-obviously if we're spending a lot of time together I won't be able to wear it all the time..."

"That's fine. I can do that. If I do anything that you don't like, don't be afraid to let me know."

"Okay, thanks."

Rikio gave him that comforting smile again, then slid his arm gently around his shoulders. There was an air of shyness about the way he moved that somehow made Misaki feel better - at least he wasn't the only one who was embarrassed about all this. Rikio had more experience than him, though, and he found himself incredibly self-conscious as he worried for far too long over where he should put his hand, before finally settling on wrapping it around Rikio's waist.

"You know... there's something people generally do on dates that we haven't done yet..."

"Like what?"

"Kiss..."

Misaki spluttered in surprise. As much as it was an obvious first step, and he had at least considered it as a possibility, he wasn't emotionally prepared in the slightest, and the mention of the word made his heartbeat stutter.

"We don't have to..." Rikio reassured immediately,

"N-no... I just... n-never kissed anyone before..." Misaki admitted.

"Really?"

"W-why the tone of surprise?!" Misaki found himself more defensive than he'd intended.

"Well, you're a nice guy, and you're handsome, I thought somebody would have by now..."

"I was never interested in dating, I guess, too much other shit going on, and then by the time I had that stuff sorted I didn't really have any friends or anything."

Rikio nodded. "That makes sense."

"I-I'm kind of glad you'll be my first though..."

Rikio met his eyes with a genuine warmth in his smile that made that funny feeling in Misaki's chest resurge with a vengeance, and without him really even noticing, he found that the two of them were leaning in towards one another; it caught him by surprise when he felt the whisper of Rikio's breath on his lips. There was a drawn out pause, and then the space between them seemed to close without either of them really deciding to make it so. Rikio's lips were softer than Misaki expected, warm, gentle as they moved against Misaki's. His whole body tingled at the sensation, like static on a television, and he lost himself in the shock that he was really kissing his best friend. There was none of the stereotypical fireworks or a sense that everything was suddenly okay with the world or a feeling that he was seeing in colour for the first time, but in a way Misaki hadn't really expected that; it sounded like romance novel crap. In a way, this was better. The warm surrealness of the contact, the care in the way Rikio's lips guided Misaki's own, the way Rikio's grip on Misaki's shirt was just a little too tight, as though he was trying to make sure this was really happening... it felt good, safe. As much as Misaki's heartbeat was thundering in his ears from anxiety and how new and dreamlike this all seemed, Rikio made him feel grounded.

When they finally broke apart, Misaki's cheeks were flushed, but he could feel himself grinning.

"I could get used to that," Rikio concluded, and Misaki nodded in eager agreement.

When they eventually, after many more tentative kisses and a very drawn out goodbye (and the insistence from Rikio that Misaki text him when he got back home safe), parted ways and headed back home, Misaki couldn't stop smiling the whole way.

And then the flash of familiar royal blue fabric showed up to ruin a perfect day. He saw it rounding the corner as he headed down a shortcut through an alleyway, and froze in his tracks as his ex-friend came into view.

"What the fuck are you doing in this part of town, monkey?!"

"Clan business. I wouldn't expect you to understand, just don't get in my way."

"Are you calling me stupid?!" Misaki fumed.

"Mi-sa-ki, if I was going to insult you, I would be more overt about it so I could be sure you'd get the hint."

"Get the fuck out of here before I beat your ass to a pulp. And I told you not to use that name!"

"I'd like to see you try, Mi~Sa~Ki~! What's got you so happy today, anyway? Having fun being Mikoto's pet?"

"None of your fucking business."

"Finally gotten yourself a girlfriend?"

"What if I have?!" Misaki spat.

"Please, you're a terrible liar." Saruhiko stood with his arms folded in Misaki's path, drumming his fingers against his elbow with a sly grin.

"I am dating someone, asshole. What, you think nobody would want me? You should take a look in the mirror!" A part of Misaki felt a twinge of guilt using his relationship as ammunition, but the red mist had descended over him once more, and he felt himself coiling up to strike, tensing as his aura sparked around his hands. Bloodlust rose in his throat.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "I didn't want to waste my time on you, Mi~Sa~Ki, but you haven't left me much choice," he hissed, reaching for the hilt of his sword and drawing it with a flourish. "Fushimi, ready for emergency battle."

"Fuck your excuses!" Misaki's aura burned in earnest around his palms now, and he leaped forward to swipe at his old friend, his attacks fierce and brutal. If anything, what pissed him off the most was that Saruhiko had dared to show up to ruin this day, after they hadn't even spoken in months. It wasn't fair; just when he was finally really happy, that this happened.

The battle was intense and fiery, their auras clashing with brilliant flashes as they dodged through the narrow alleyway, attempting to avoid one another's attacks. More than once, both of them came very near to inflicting serious wounds, but Misaki was too hyped up on the adrenaline to feel the ache of the bruises.

It was only the sound of a shout echoing from the other end of the passage that drew their attention away from one another long enough for them to break apart.

"Yata-san?!"

Saruhiko clicked his tongue in irritation as Misaki whirled around to see his boyfriend, looking concerned.

"Stay out of this," Saruhiko spat.

"You're the one in Red Clan territory. If this gets escalated, it's you who'll get the short end of the stick. You should get out of here before Awashima-san or someone hears about this."

Saruhiko paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes and examining the proximity between the two Red clansmen, the way Rikio lay his hand protectively on Misaki's shoulder.

"...Oh my god, is it really Kamamoto that you're dating?" Saruhiko burst into peals of mocking laughter.

"Shut the fuck up, Monkey, just because nobody wants you," Misaki bristled, and Rikio tightened his grip on him to stop him leaping forward and attacking him again.

"You should get out of here," Rikio warned again.

Still in fits of hysterical cackling, Saruhiko turned on his heel and headed back the way he came.

"What the fuck is his problem?" Misaki muttered.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. How'd you find me?"

"You hadn't let me know you were home safe and you weren't replying... I panicked, I know I shouldn't, I just worry about you, and now I have a duty to take care of you."

"I don't need protecting."

"I know you don’t, but I also know how you get around Fushimi, if someone doesn't break you apart, you won't stop fighting until one of you has done the other serious damage. I don't want you to get hurt, or to have to live with hurting someone you once cared about that badly."

"Fine, fine..."

Rikio kissed Misaki on the forehead, then the pair of them started walking back to Misaki's place together.

"It's okay to be pissed at him," Rikio murmured.

"I'm fucking beyond pissed. How dare he make fun of you? His beef is with me and he doesn't have the right to drag you into it."

"I think maybe he's just jealous."

"What the hell of?"

"He seemed upset about 'losing' you to Homra, and I guess you dating someone in Homra is the ultimate symbol of that."

"Still doesn't give him the right."

"No, you're right, it doesn't."

"It gives me the fucking creeps the way he says my name as well. He has a lot of fucking nerve, and one day it's going to come back and bite him in the ass."

When they  arrived at Misaki's apartment, Rikio set about making both of them a cup of tea in the hopes it might calm Misaki down a little, and the two of them sat down together to watch a movie. As they relaxed together on the couch, sitting much closer together than they normally would have dared to, Misaki’s fury slowly began to subside, and he allowed himself to sink into Rikio's embrace as the frustration faded. Rikio wrapped his arm around his shoulder just like earlier, and Misaki relaxed into the touch, letting his irritation out in a long, slow sigh. The gentle affection calmed him much faster than usual.

By the time the movie had gotten into the meat of the action, Misaki felt noticeably better, and he secretly attributed a fair amount of it to Rikio's patient affection. Normally, it took him much longer to simmer down after he was pissed off.

Once the last of his irritation had dwindled, Misaki finally got to process that he, once again, was in a much more intimate, much more romantic position with Rikio than he had ever really been in before, and his rage was quickly replaced by the same bashfulness as earlier. As the movie progressed, they ended up snuggling in closer to one another, almost unconsciously, but at the same time Misaki was incredibly aware of every inch that closed between them, every stroke of Rikio's fingers running through his hair absentmindedly. If anything, this felt better than the kissing - the closeness and the contentment, the almost calming effect that Rikio's gentle attention had, were all wonderfully new and electrifying. Misaki hoped he never got used to this.

Rikio, meanwhile, was distracted. He did his best not to show it, and he didn't think Misaki had caught on, and don't get him wrong, he was relishing in the casual intimacy he'd craved and dreamed of for he didn't know how long, but he was... disquieted by the interaction he'd seen between Misaki and Saruhiko earlier. Saruhiko had really gotten under Misaki's skin, and yes Misaki had said some things that were below the belt too, but there was something about the look in Misaki's eyes when Saruhiko had drawled his given name, something like a spark of pain.

Technically it wasn't Misaki's dead name - he had kept his birth name despite its feminine connotations, but it was no secret that it being used without his permission bugged him. Not that most people knew why, but Rikio would have been very surprised if Saruhiko didn't at least have an inkling about the reason. In which case, Rikio didn't know how he could in good conscience continue to use it as ammunition. He knew Saruhiko still cared about Misaki, maybe more than he'd care to admit - if he didn't, he wouldn't go to the trouble of pissing him off so much.

Without really meaning to, Rikio found himself resolving to confront Saruhiko at the nearest opportunity about his use of Misaki's name. He had no idea how it would go and whether it would be effective, but he had to at least try, for his partner's sake.

For now though, he was more than content to enjoy being settled in with the person he cared about, only half-able to concentrate on the movie playing because he was so absorbed in savouring the affection.

The next day, Rikio found himself outside the imposing gates of Sceptre 4's headquarters, sweating slightly as he rehearsed what he'd planned to say in his head. He didn't intend to tell Misaki about this little visit, per se - he knew dishonesty was a bad start to their relationship, but he knew Misaki would just resist and pretend it didn't bother him, but it wasn't like Misaki was going to have this conversation with Saruhiko himself, so something had to be done.

Rikio took a deep breath to steady himself as he rang the bell on the intercom.

"State your business."

"I'm Kamamoto Rikio of the Third and Red Clan, Homra. I've come to see Fushimi Saruhiko."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No."

There was a pause, and then: "Someone will be with you shortly."

The intercom went dead, and another long moment passed. Rikio tapped his foot, trying not to overthink what he was about to do. It was too late to turn back now. Eventually, he spotted someone crossing the courtyard - a red-haired figure in the traditional Sceptre 4 uniform. As he approached, the gate swung open, and the Blue Clansman offered a polite smile. "Kamamoto, right?"

"That's right."

"Come on through. I'm Domyoji Andy," he said with a bow. "It feels weird to meet a Red clansman and not be fighting with them."

Rikio returned the smile. "I know what you mean."

"I'll take you up to Fushimi-san's office - may I ask what business this is on? Normally our number twos coordinate stuff between clans if there's anything that needs doing..."

"It's... a personal matter, I guess."

"Ah, that's fine. I didn't think you and Fushimi were exactly friends, though? Especially not seeing as you and Yatagarasu are so close."

"No, not really... I don't think he's particularly friends with anyone in Homra."

"Yeah, none of us really know what the whole deal is with that. He doesn't talk much about it."

"Not much of a change from when he was in Homra then." Rikio couldn't help but be a little intimidated as he was led through the towering double doors into the ornate foyer of Tsubaki-Mon, across the marble tiled floor and up the stairs. Everything was gold leaf and elegant colonial architecture, it felt a world away from the homely cosiness of Bar Homra. Thankfully, Andy seemed fairly friendly, so it could have been much worse.

When they arrived at the door of the office Saruhiko was working in, Rikio took another steadying breath as Andy knocked and announced his arrival.

The "come in," that issued from behind the mahogany door couldn't have sounded any less enthusiastic if Andy had announced that someone with a highly contagious illness was popping by for a visit.

"Good luck," Andy whispered with a sympathetic smile as he opened the door for Rikio and took his leave. Rikio grimaced in return.

The office was dim as Rikio entered - the blind was still half-drawn, and Saruhiko's face was lit with an eerie blue glow by the screen of his laptop.

"What." The single blunt syllable dripped with as much disinterested animosity as Rikio thought any one person could imbue into such a short utterance.

"I came to talk to you about Yata."

"You wasted your time."

"Look, you can bullshit me all you like, but I know you care about him. He was your closest friend for a long time, and even if you hate him and hate me, there are some lines you just... shouldn't cross, because it makes you kind of a dick, even if you have a valid reason for disliking him."

"What are you talking about?" Saruhiko hissed.

"You know his first name bothers him, and if you don't know why, then you're an idiot. I know you've known him long enough to know he's trans, and I know I'm probably overstepping and being that dumb cis guy, but I don't think it's right, as much as you hate him, for you to knowingly trigger his dysphoria just to get under his skin. I think you're getting into the territory of being transphobic there, and I know that isn't you, so you should cut it out."

Saruhiko was quiet for a moment, like a stubborn child scolded.

"I'm not asking you not to hate him or not to fight with him or not to hate me for being his boyfriend and having the audacity to come here and confront you, just... there's a line, okay?"

"Whatever." As much as Saruhiko tried to play it off as though he didn't care, Rikio could tell by the flicker of what could have been shame on his lips that he got the message.

"Thank you. I'll leave you to your work."

Saruhiko merely clicked his tongue as Rikio left the room, satisfied that his old clanmate had listened to reason.

When Rikio arrived back at the bar from Sceptre 4, he immediately took a seat beside Misaki, who was chatting with Tatara – Tatara was talking animatedly as he held his new camera, and as Rikio sat down, his face lit up.

“Can I have a picture of you two together? I’m trying to take photos of everyone.”

A flicker of alarm crossed Misaki’s expression until he realised Tatara was talking about the two of them as friends, rather than as a couple, and he nodded his assent. Tatara bounced to his feet and took a couple of photos, handing one of the polaroid printouts to the pair of them before heading over to Shouhei and Saburouta to continue his quest of taking pictures of everyone.

“You alright?” Rikio asked.

“Yeah… For a second there I thought he knew about us or something…”

“Well, do you want people to know?”

Misaki looked thoughtful. “I mean, if the monkey has figured it out then it’s not exactly a secret anymore… not like he has any friends to gossip about it with or anything…”

“We don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to.”

“No, I think I want to… Fuck anyone who has anything bad to say about it. I don’t think anyone at Homra would have an issue with us both being guys… Besides, maybe if those girls who always flirt with you know you’re taken then maybe they’ll lay off.” There was a bitterness in Misaki’s tone as he tried his hardest not to say anything disrespectful, and Rikio smiled, finding his jealousy endearing.

“I want people to know too. I’m proud that you’re mine.”

“Jeez, don’t say embarrassing stuff like that…” Misaki’s face flushed red at the cheesiness of Rikio’s sentiment, but he was smiling ever so slightly.

“Besides, I don’t want to have to not be affectionate with you at the bar. Obviously if you aren’t comfortable being public about that kind of stuff that’s fine, but if I wanted to hold your hand or something..”

“T-that’s fine with me.”

Rikio grinned again, and wordlessly, he lay his hand on top of Misaki’s.

A moment later, Tatara flitted back over to the pair of them. “Can I see how that picture came out?”

Misaki handed him the photo to look at.

“You really like your new camera, huh?” Rikio said.

“It’s nice to be able to have a record of all the memories we make here,” Tatara replied cheerfully, handing the photo back, but before he could turn to leave again, Misaki called out:

“W-wait.”

“Hmm?”

“We, uh, wanted to tell you…” was as far as Misaki got before the embarrassment of talking about this kind of thing stopped up his throat, and he couldn’t force any more words out. He looked at Rikio meekly for assistance.

“Yata-san and I are a couple. We got together yesterday.”

Tatara beamed. “That’s so wonderful! I’m so happy for you! You two were childhood friends too, weren’t you? That’s such a sweet story, I’m glad Homra could bring you two together again after all this time. You make a cute couple.” He seemed so overjoyed by the revelation that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. “You know, I had an inkling you two had something going on between you… Sorry, I’m making a fuss, aren’t I?” He said sheepishly, noticing the way Misaki had turned bright red. “Well, congratulations!”  

“Thank you,” Rikio said.

“Y-yeah, thanks,” Misaki mumbled bashfully as Tatara flashed them another smile before heading off. He turned the photograph Tatara had given them in his fingers, then looked up at Rikio, letting out a bashful sigh. As jittery as he’d felt, it was a relief to start getting out in the open. It made it feel more… real. The last few days had passed in a blur, and Misaki found himself pinching his arm more than once just to make sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Not that he’d really dared to fantasise about this sort of thing before. The two of them actually being an item had never really occurred to him as a possibility; he never expected Rikio to feel the same way, and there was no way Misaki could have confessed to him first.