live the dream with a time machine

“Did you know that you two match?” Ouma told her one day.

“...what are you talking about?” Tojo asked, glancing up from her work. Today was supposed to be a personal day, a rare day where she could work on catching up on some personal maintenance. A bit of personal R&R, or as close to rest and relaxation as she could afford herself. So of course, Ouma had somehow found her.

“Well, I just thought it was really interesting that you and Harumaki match.” He repeated, kicking his feet.

The pair were in one of Hope’s Peak’s many specialized rooms, fit and tailored to any sort of talent or derivative of one, so that any student could find the time to ‘foster the intricacies’ of their skill. Specifically, Tojo had sought out a room to do some cloth working in, as some of her wardrobe needed a few patches, thanks to the rough and tumble nature of spending a day at Hope’s Peak.

And so she’d placed herself at a table, fit with a very fancy sewing machine, alongside other various pins, threads, needles, and patches for smaller, specialized fixes and details. And of course, Ouma had found her not long after, and had apparently decided that today was a good day to bother her with nothing. Surprisingly, there was worse company at this school… but there was also company that was far better.

“I am completely unaware of what you mean,” Tojo said. Her fingers fiddled and prodded at one of her dresses, seeking out a tear without assistance from her eyes. She instead looked for a suitable thread color, one that was the correct tone of black.

“Well… you like spiders, right?” Ouma asked, pulling himself out of his chair and up onto the table she was working on. Tojo glanced up at him with a half lidded stare. Her fingers skittered over the fabric, and Tojo offered herself a slight nod as they found the tear.

“What gives you that impression?” Tojo asked in response, tone flat. She pinched the tear between her index finger and thumb, finally reaching out with her other hand to grab a couple spools of thread, their shade lightly tinted with other colors.

“C’moooooon!” Ouma drawled, raising his hand and leaning back in a theatrical expression of fake annoyance. “It’s so obvious, right?” He stared at her with a smile, and she offered him the same blank stare. Ouma continued once he realized she wasn’t going to reply. “Well, I mean, you’re like, totally into dark colors. And they say that moms have eyes in the back of their head, so I assume you’ve got, like, six other ones sitting around somewhere, right?”

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that,” Tojo said, her lips quirking down into a frown. “I’m not your mother.” She glanced down briefly, finally settling on one of the threads, and held out a needle. “And if you’re going to continue to annoy me, please make yourself useful and hold this.”

“Whaaaat? For real?” Ouma shot her an amused look, gingerly taking the needle despite his words. “Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to help everybody? Evil people like me don’t help others out, you know!”

“Usually, that is the case,” Tojo replied, tugging out a length of her selected thread. She began threading it through the eye of the needle and fastening it, while Ouma watched with some sort of interest. “However, since you are disturbing me on my ‘day off’, so to speak, you will have to assist me in this minor way. I’m sure it won’t kill you”

“Thbbbbt!” Ouma blew a raspberry. “That’s pretty lame! What kind of maid takes a day off?! I’ve never spend a moment relaxing! I’m always busy.”

“Was it not yesterday that you did nothing but slack off because the class project ‘didn’t interest you’?” Tojo asked, plucking the needle from Ouma’s grasp.

“Maybe I was lying?” Ouma asked, clasping his hands behind his head now that both were free. “Who’s to say, really?”

Tojo just sighed in response, pulling up the tear so that it was closer to her before beginning. Her eyes wandered over the immediate surface around the tear, and noted that it went through part of the pattern as well. She’d need white thread too. Unfortunate.

“Ignoring this… pointless avenue of discussion,” Tojo began, keeping her eyes locked onto the needle and thread as she began to work it through the fabric of her dress. “What was it, exactly, that you were attempting to tell me about Harukawa?”

“Oh, right!” Ouma grinned. “You and Harumaki match! I think it’s super duper cute, to be completely honest. And if you don’t know, then it’s just double awesome!”

“What does this have to do with your question about spiders?” Tojo asked in response. Her fingers set into a rhythm, flowing across the fabric like an arachnid with its web.

“Well, you like your patterns,” Ouma said, pointed at Tojo’s dress. Her eyes flicked towards the spiderweb pattern without thinking, and her fingers slowed their dance slightly. Ouma continued, “And Harumaki has the same kind of pattern built in!”

“...built in?” Tojo blinked in surprise, eyes lingering on the spiderweb pattern on her dress before they flicked up to look at Ouma. Her fingers halted their movements entirely. “What are you talking about?”

Ouma gasped in surprise, though Tojo was positive it was feigned. “You don’t know?!” He asked. “But you two are totally super close!”

“We…” Tojo began, feeling a tightening in her chest as she glanced away from Ouma. “Are not that close.” Her… relationship with Harukawa was… was complicated. It irritated her that Ouma was as privy to the state of things as he was. However, as irritating and prone to lies as he was, Ouma was far more observant than others liked to give him credit for.

“Oh, I see,” Ouma replied, a mischievous smile gracing his face. Tojo greatly disliked that smile. It meant he was up to something. He continued, shrugging his shoulders and snickering. “Well, I don’t think it’s really in my place to share.” Ouma’s grin returned, and he held his index finger up in front of his mouth, almost as though he were shushing her. “But… well, let’s just say that a little birdie told me that our poor Harumaki got hurt.”

“Hurt?” Tojo’s back stiffened, and her stare hardened even as amusement danced in Ouma’s eyes. “What do you mean she ‘got hurt’?”

“Like I said, it’s not my place to say.” Ouma shrugged. “Maybe you should ask her yourself?”

“…” Tojo was quiet, jaw clenched, before she forced herself to take a deep breath and stare at Ouma. “And how do I know this isn’t a distasteful lie? You are very prone to telling those.”

“Hmm…” Ouma tapped his chin, then hopped off of the table. He shrugged and laughed at her. “I guess you don’t!” Ouma smoothed out his pants, then grinned. “This is getting kind of boring though. Have fun with your dress!” And before Tojo could say anything to stop him, Ouma scampered off, nearly bowling over Shirogane as she opened the door.

Tojo let a frown crease her face, turning back to her dress and staring holes into it. She flatly returned Shirogane’s timid greeting, unable to get her mind off of Ouma’s words.

Tojo despised how he had figured out how to push her buttons like this. She spent a moment thinking before she sighed and stood up, snipping her thread loose and gathering up her half-patched dress.

%

Tojo found her in the school’s gymnasium.

Harukawa stood next to Momota and Chabashira, watching on with annoyance as the latter shouted at the former. Harukawa was decked out in workout gear; a gray, sweat stained t-shirt accompanied by knee length athletic shorts and simple tennis shoes. Momota and Chabashira were clad similarly, but Tojo’s gaze didn’t linger on them.

She drifted near the trio almost silently, the growing argument a great mask for her footsteps. Harukawa seemed to tune in to them anyways, as she always seemed able to do, and separated herself from the two to meet Tojo in the middle. With Momota and Chabashira distracting each other, it seemed that Tojo had a moment ‘alone’ with Harukawa.

“Hey,” Harukawa said.

“Hello,” Tojo replied.

They spent a moment just… staring at each other before Harukawa shot a glance over her shoulder at Momota, and then sighed.

“What do you want?” She asked, her tone not holding the sharpness that her words might have implied.

“I… wished to talk to you about… something personal,” Tojo admitted, balling up a fist and putting it in front of her mouth. “Admittedly, it is a bit of an uncertain worry, but… I still wished to clear something up. As well as share some information with you, to make sure you’re aware of it.”

“…” Harukawa’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What is this about?”

“I don’t wish to say in public,” Tojo said, finding herself unable to meet Harukawa’s eye. “I… was unaware of this before now, and am unsure if I want it aired out in the open. I understand, however, if you’re uncomfortable with such worries. I can drop it if you would like me to.”

“Hrmm…” Harukawa’s eyes narrowed in thought, not in suspicion but in confusion. “Fine. Meet me at my room in half an hour.”

“Ah, of course,” Tojo said, lowering her hand so that she could clasp it with her other and bow slightly. “Thank you for humoring me.”

“It’s fine,” Harukawa replied. She didn’t seem too keen on continuing the conversation, so Tojo took a small step back, breaking their joined personal space. Harukawa watched her for a moment, eyes sharp as a hawk’s, before she stepped back as well.

Then, Harukawa pivoted on her heel and marched up to Momota, clubbing him on the shoulder. He yelped in surprise, and Tojo watched in faint amusement for a moment as the two bickered. She lingered for a moment longer, catching Chabashira’s eye in the process. She waved, and Tojo waved back. Then, she too turned on her heel and made her way out of the gym, wondering just how she would explain herself.

%

Thirty minutes on the dot, and Tojo stood in front of Harukawa’s room in the dormitories. She took a moment to steel herself before raising a gloved hand and delivering three swift knocks to the wood. Tojo glanced to the side, ears picking up the shuffling in the room, and felt like her nerves were on edge for some reason. This was… just a personal health question. Nothing more. There was no reason to feel anxious.

A moment later and the door swung open. Harukawa stood there, clad now in her normal clothing, though Tojo could see a dampness to her hair and smell the faint scent of artificial lavender in her pulled up hair. The two shared a silent stare and an unspoken agreement, and Tojo stepped forward into Harukawa’s room, frayed static sparking across her nerves.

Harukawa closed the door behind her, then turned to stare at Tojo with a cold, analytical gaze. Tojo’s body held strong, keeping rigid and at the ready, though her will wavered under Harukawa’s heavy stare. Again, the two did nothing but stand there in silence.

And then Harukawa spoke up, and both girls seemed to instinctively relax.

“What are you worried about?” Harukawa asked, back slouching slightly. Her hands drifted upwards, gently gripping one of her huge ponytails. “It’s not like you to come up to me for something like this.” She paused for a moment, then cocked her brow at Tojo. “And isn’t today your day off?”

“It… is,” Tojo admitted, nodding limply. “However, I… well, as loathe as I am to admit this, I was speaking with Ouma, and his words brought some concerns to my attention.”

At the mere mention of his name, Harukawa’s face grew dark, her eyes clouding with stormy anger. The fingers tangled in her hair clenched, her skin pulling taut over her knuckles. Tojo could see the way her jaw clenched, and the tension that seemed to flood her body at his mention.

“What did he say about me?” Harukawa asked.

“He told me that…” Tojo trailed off for a moment, searching for the best way to phrase this, “He said that, and I suppose I shall simply quote him directly, you ‘got hurt’.” She sighed, shaking her head. Her hands clenched, bunching up the skirt of her dress.

“…huh?” Harukawa seemed to lose some of her steam, her body relaxing somewhat as confusion took over anger. “I… what?”

“I admittedly was not sure as to what he meant either,” Tojo said, her lips pressing into a line. “But… even though I knew he was prone to lies and that his views towards you are… nebulous at best, I could not help but worry for you.”

“For me?…” Harukawa echoed, and Tojo watched as a hand drifted over to her shoulder.

“Yes, I…” Tojo lost her words again, and needed a second to find them, “Even if his words were a lie, I still… wanted to make sure that you were not injured in any way. And if you are… I would implore you to let me assist you in some way. I am experienced in treating injuries, so if you were in pain of any sort, I would very easily be able to assist you.” Tojo found there was… a desperation seeping into her voice that she was unaware of until it was too present to ignore.

“…” Harukawa was silent, then her brow knitted together and her lips pulled into a scowl. “…how did he?…” She muttered to herself, and Tojo could not make out the rest.

“Harukawa–” Tojo began.

“I’m not in pain.” Harukawa began, seemingly picking her words carefully. “I have some… injuries from my time in the orphanage,” She stated simply, “It was just from me being a stupid kid. That’ s it.”

“I see,” Tojo said, nodding. And then, she opened her mouth to thank Maki, and her words came out before she could stop them, “May I see them?”

“…eh?” Harukawa’s eyes widened in surprise, and her fingers dug into her shoulder. A faint pink dusted her cheeks, and Tojo immediately felt a tension spring up in between them.

“M-My apologies,” Tojo was quick to backtrack, even literally by taking a step back, “That was far too forward of me. I just… I mean, I thought to look them over and… make sure that it had healed correctly. And,” Tojo found herself faltering, “And if you are bothered in any way by them, I could… assist you. With managing them.”

“I… see,” Harukawa said, turning away.

They shared a stiff moment of silence, and Tojo found that she couldn’t think of the reason behind why she said that. As she opened her mouth to retract her statement, however–

“If… you think it’s a good idea,” Harukawa said, the pink on her cheeks far more noticeable.

“I–” Tojo began, caught off guard by Harukawa’s agreement. “I… yes,” She said simply, unsure of how else to continue.

“…give me a second,” Harukawa replied, turning away.

Tojo watched as Harukawa turned her back to her, eyes locked onto her back. And her own eyes widened as Harukawa reached down, fingers hooking under the hem of her shirt. She then began pulling it up, and Tojo was treated to…

A web of scars.

They criss-crossed over Harukawa’s back, both darker red and lighter yellow side by side against the pale canvas of Harukawa’s skin. They formed uneven patterns as they climbed up her back, across her sides, and over her shoulders. Tojo could tell that these were made over the span of years, with some looking more healed over than others. They were thin and thick, long and short, a variety of shapes and sizes that made it impossible to place how each one could have been made. Concerningly, there were even a few that seemed… rounder than the others.

Harukawa turned around, and Tojo found that the scars continued onto her front as well, a similar latticework that coiled around her body. Tojo had known that Harukawa had a few scars on her limbs, as hiding them didn’t seem to be a possibility, but… to think that it continued to this extent…

She was somewhat ashamed to admit that Ouma’s words made a modicum of sense to her. She wouldn’t say that they matched, per se, but…

Tojo’s thoughts were cut off by Harukawa yanking her shirt back down. She had her cheeks puffed out slightly, a pout painting her face. Tojo blinked a couple of times, wanting to reach out but unable to lift her arms. A tension of a different sort grew between them, which Harukawa broke by clearing her throat.

“There,” She said, “See? It’s… I’m not ‘hurt’. It’s just… a lot of old injuries. They don’t… they don’t hurt, they just… are in the way sometimes. But it’s nothing I can’t get past.”

“I… yes, I suppose that you’re right,” Tojo said, finding articulation… momentarily difficult. “However, I… I would still like to extend my offering to you.” Tojo found herself offering Harukawa a smile. “If you ever need help… you are always free to request my help. I would not hesitate to assist you in any way.”

“Um.” Harukawa stared for a moment, then huffed and looked away again. “Thanks. I guess.” She paused, staring down at the floor, before something crossed her face again, and her pout dropped into an irritated scowl.

“Is something wrong?” Tojo asked.

“…yes,” Harukawa said, looking up at Tojo. “Did Ouma tell you how he knew about this?”

“Ah,” Tojo frowned. “No, now that you mention it.”

“Then I have something to take care of,” Harukawa said.

“Hey.”

The voice from above snapped Annette’s attention away from her work, the tune she was humming catching in her throat. Of all the people to approach her when she was working on a new song...

Annette let out a grunt as she righted her posture, grease from the floor settling into the skin of her elbows and the material of her undershirt. The motorcycle at her side let out a clack as something inside of it shifted, and Annette sighed. So much for righting that piece. She turned to the person who accosted her and scowled.

“Felix.” Annette said simply, lips pursed and brow raised in a look that she hoped properly got across her annoyance at him. “Why do you always arrive when I’m singing? Don’t you have somebody else to make fun of that’s like, somewhere else?”

The two were alone in the dirty, run down garage owned by the group known as the ‘Blue Lions’. It was a small, dingy environment, stained with oil and sweat and covered in spare parts. And yet, it was home away from home for many of them there, and Annette often found that she’d much rather spend her free time here, busying away at a motorcycle or book on repair work than anything else. She had busy hands, and maintenance was a nice way to give them something to do.

Funnily enough, Annette wasn’t the best at driving much of anything. She found the noise and the speed and the everything distracting at best. And being distracted while cruising down the street at seventy miles an hour was something closer to a death wish than anything else. Still, she loved bikes and cars, and serving as the mechanic to the Blue Lions was more than fine enough for her. It allowed her to get her hands dirty, and deal with all the fun parts of the vehicles her friends drove around in.

“It sounded more like humming. And why would I make fun of anybody?” Felix scoffed, his trademark stare, scalding and sharp, boring into her. Annette had no idea if he was making a joke or not. His arms were crossed, a leather jacket draped over his shoulders. Supposedly, it had been his brother’s.

“You’re always making fun of Dimitri and Dedue.” Annette pointed out, crossing her arms and pouting. She settled her crossed arms onto the seat of the bike, planting her head into them and staring up. Felix stared down, face flat.

“Yes, well they deserve it.” He told her, cocking his brow. “What do you care?”

“I care because they’re my friends! And I thought they were your friends too!” Annette said, huffing a second after. “You just like to be mean to people for no reason.”

“I have my reasons.” Felix snorted, glancing away. However, his gaze returned a second later, staring down at her. “I’m not interested in talking about them though. I wanted your opinion on something.”

Annette narrowed her eyes. “My opinion? What could you possibly want my opinion on? And why?”

“I think it should be obvious.” Felix scoffed. “I want you to take a look at my ride. I need a second pair of eyes, and I obviously only possess one.”

“Wait, your bike?!” Annette hopped to her feet, excitement suddenly flooding her body. The creeper she was laying on slid away, bumping into the nearby workbench with a quiet ‘clack’.

Felix was one of the few members of the Blue Lions who didn’t frequently come to Annette for help on their bikes, and the only one to never visit her at all. He always insisted on doing his own work away from the others, and refused to come to her for regular repairs. That meant he usually sequestered himself off into his own little corner of the garage, and didn’t let anybody look at what he was doing. As a result, Annette never got to see what his work looked like, much less the inner workings of his ride. So an opportunity like this…

“Yes.” Felix glanced at her with a look in his eye that Annette wouldn’t be able to name, even if excitement wasn’t coursing through her veins. “I’ve replaced some of the rear sprockets, and figured I should get somebody to look it over now that I’m done.”

“Ooooooh my god.” Annette bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes shining. “That’s-” And then her brain caught up with her. Annette frowned, reining herself back and narrowing her eyes at Felix. “Wait a minute. You never want anybody to look at your bike. What is this? Where’s the catch?”

“Jeez.” Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “There is no catch. I can’t ask for help with my bike without being questioned?”

“...well, it’s not like you ask for help with it. Like, ever.” Annette looked away, pouting. “You can’t blame me for being suspicious.”

“Your suspicions are unfounded, so I can.” Felix said, voice hard. “All I want is a second opinion. This is something that I’d rather not screw up, so somebody like you would be a good fit to double check it.”

“What do you mean ‘somebody like me’?” Annette asked, brow furrowed.

“Must you doubt my every word?” Felix asked, rolling his eyes. “If you’re this set on interrogating me about my intentions, I’ll just pass on any help you were willing to offer.” He shook his head and turned around.

“No! No no no!” Annette, scurried around the bike she’d been working on, scooting over to Felix’s side and latching onto his arm. “No! I want to help!”

“Let go of me.” He replied, though there was no motion to shake her off.

“Sorry! Sorry...” She let out a nervous laugh, quickly drawing her hands back to her chest. A light heat decorated her cheeks, embarrassment at her enthusiasm welling up in her chest. “I… I got a little too excited there.”

“It’s fine.” Felix said, glancing down at her. “Does this mean you’re going to help me out?” Annette opened her mouth to respond, and he continued. “Without interrogating me the whole time?”

“...I said I was sorry.” She murmured, scuffing her boot on the ground. “I’ll be good.”

“Fine.” Felix replied, turning away. “Now come on, before somebody gets back and thinks I’m actually letting you work on my bike.”

And that’s all he said to her as he walked away, clearly expecting her to follow. Annette blinked at everything about the situation. Her mind told her that consorting with Felix like this probably wasn’t gonna lead to anything more than her getting made fun of some more. He was abrasive, and hard to be around sometimes. Her heart then reminded her that she was gonna get a chance to inspect Felix’s bike.

Annette followed.

Felix’s ride was sleek and streamlined, its body painted black and navy. The fluorescent light of the garage reflected off of the bike, giving it a sense of majesty. It seemed almost imposing as Annette approached, marveling. Even from where she stood, not even touching the motorcycle, she could tell how much love and care was put into its maintenance.

Felix stepped up, crouching next to the rear wheel, placing his hand on the tire. He then pointed into the rear workings with a finger, motioning for Annette to come closer with his head. She easily followed, scampering over and crouching next to him. He pointed out a few of the small parts in the wheel itself, then motioned to the actual sprocket.

“I’m adjusting the sprocket ratio,” He explained, “so that I’m putting a little more of the force on the back wheel. I wanted you to double check my work before I put the new chain on. This should be correct, however.”

“Wow...” Annette said quietly, awe in her voice. It was so well put together. Everything from the chassis to the suspension to the simple bells and whistles... Her hand reached out involuntarily, her fingertips gracing against the indicated sprocket with an almost reverent touch. This kind of beauty, such a solidly constructed motorcycle… And Annette knew that this was all done personally, everything about this bike was deliberate, done by Felix himself. Her fingers trailed over a few of the parts, branching away from the sprocket as she let herself become absorbed in the sights.

The parts were high quality and clearly well maintained… Nothing was out of place, or unnecessary. Everything was oiled and polished… It felt like Annette was looking at a snapshot of Felix’s true nature. Or maybe his soul, perhaps. Either way, she saw-

“Annette.” Felix’s voice cut through Annette’s thoughts, and her head whipped back towards him. “Pay attention, I hate repeating myself.”

“I-I’m sorry!” She yelped, hands jumping back to her chest. “I was just-”

“Save it.” Felix snorted, flapping a hand dismissively. “I don’t care. I know that you were admiring my bike, and it’s great that you can see my skills at work. However, I want you to check on the sprocket, then you can marvel as much as you want.”

“I can...” Annette couldn’t form words to match her excitement, staring at Felix with eyes wide as saucers. “Can… can I really?”

“I just said so, did I not?” Felix asked, rolling his eyes.

“Eeeeeee!” Annette let out an excited squeal, balling up her hands and shaking them in pure elation. Her body bounced involuntarily as she let her excitement flow through her, the feeling so strong it was sparking out of her fingertips. Annette’s eyes lit up, and she stared at Felix with a wide grin, a glow practically radiating off of her, made of pure joy. “Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you! I’m so happy I could hug you!”

“I’d prefer you not.” Felix shook his head.

“Okay, let me get my tools, and then I’ll look at your bike! Oh my god, this is gonna be so much fun!”

“Hey, wait,” Felix said, a scowl forming on his face. “I didn’t agree to-”