Chapter Text
Asano Gakushuu does not think much of Shiota Nagisa—which is to say he does not think of him, at all—until he sees his mother slap him across the face in the empty parking lot behind the school.
Prior to that moment, he had only known what he needed to, what was necessary for him to maintain his subtle but unfaltering control of the second-years at Kunugigaoka Junior High School.
He was Student Council President for the second year in a row for reason. It was his responsibility to remain aware of his peers' strengths and weaknesses, the pressure points to push and the soft spots to exploit to bring out their best.
He keeps tabs on the ones who contribute to the school's gleaming reputation...and the ones who are dragging down the school's collective GPA.
Shiota Nagisa, unfortunately, falls into the latter designation, a soon-to-be resident of E-Class next year and unlikely to claw himself back to main campus before graduation.
Asano knows this because he went through the principal's files and saw the student files of academic failures and future delinquents, records of behavioral complaints and class truancy.
When the principal had found him in his chair, his once carefully organized desk now a mess, he'd only smiled that cold, lifeless smile. Had said he'd planned to show them to Asano, anyway. Had admitted he was not surprised to find him there. Had reminded him to keep the flock in line, to behave, lest he find himself part of the slaughter-bound lambs.
(Like a fucking dog.)
Asano remembers seeing Shiota's records, remembers not being surprised, exactly, but slightly taken aback.
Shiota, part of D-class for the past two years, is mousy, quiet, and so timid that Asano is half-convinced he'd burst into tears if someone looked at him the wrong way.
All that is to say, Shiota is not a delinquent like Terasaka Ryoma and his gang of truants; does not appear to slack off like Nakamura Rio or Maehara Hiroto; is not even breaking school regulations like Isogai Yuuma.
No, Shiota simply appears to be a fairly normal boy with an unfortunate pattern of bad grades and meek manners.
Quite frankly, it is his overwhelming averageness that makes his friendship with Akabane Karma all the more confusing. Asano is still not sure of how that particular development came about—the school's resident psychopath and the quietest boy in class—but he has heard (from Sakakibara Ren, self-proclaimed caretaker of the school rumor mill) that, as of several months ago, the two are no longer as close as they once were.
(A falling out, Ren had speculated, perched on his desk, dramatically gesturing about. He'd nearly taken out Teppei's eye. Asano had rolled his own and told his secretary to get back to work.)
He had not particularly cared then, had cared even less since Akabane's suspension pushed the matter further out of his head.
Shiota Nagisa had been a passing curiosity, a five-minute distraction from the important matters of his life.
All this is to say, Asano is leaving school late for the third time this week, zipping up his binder and wondering if he can get away with walking home instead of waiting for his chauffeur, when he recognizes Shiota's soft voice. Arguing.
Well. Arguing might be too generous a word for what Shiota is attempting to do.
There's an imperceptible tremble in his voice; his fists are twisting the fabric of his gray slacks between his fingers. He seems to have trouble looking his mother in the eye.
The woman in question looks rather docile, her voice cool and light, like cream. Her hair is a darker shade of blue than Shiota's, cut at the chin, and her eyes are dark and glittering with metallic warmth.
Nothing about her seems to inspire the nerves obviously shaking through Shiota's body.
"–not a big deal, Mom," Shiota is saying. "I'll bring up my grades and be back on the main campus before you know it–"
"–I can't even say I'm surprised," she interrupts with a put-upon sigh, shaking her head. "I knew letting you be friends with that, that delinquent was going to mess everything up, all my hard work–
"–I'll do better. I'll fix it. Just calm down, plea–!"
His mother's hand raises, and though she does not move as fast as the principal, does not carry the same amount of force behind the blow, is nowhere near as strong as him, Asano flinches all the same.
Shiota does not.
A second later, his head whips to the side, the smack echoing throughout the empty parking lot.
"Did I tell you you could speak?" Her voice pitches with every word, climbing to a near shriek.
"No, Mom," Shiota replies, voice oddly emotionless. "Sorry, Mom."
His mother doesn't seem to have heard what he's said, "Don't you dare talk back to me again! The amount of work I put into you, all that I sacrificed, how dare you–!"
Shiota's mother's face has transformed into something monstrous, and Asano is disturbingly reminded of his own father the principal, a still lake until someone disturbs the creature lurking beneath. She grabs a handful of Shiota's hair, dragging him closer, and looks on the brink of slamming his head into the trunk of her car or hitting him again.
–and Shiota just lets it happen.
Lets his mother roughly shake him, scream into his face, and threaten him all at once. His face remains placid, empty.
It is beyond pathetic. It lights Asano's blood aflame and sets his teeth on edge. His hand is curled into a fist he doesn't remember making. The crescents in his palm sting when he releases. He is suddenly overcome with an intense loathing for Shiota Nagisa despite never having thought much about him anyway.
A voice in his head that sounds disturbingly like the principal's tells him to walk away.
For a second, Asano almost does.
But then Shiota's mother is lifting her hand again–
–And he is moving before he is aware he has even made a decision, pretending to shuffle through his bag, loudly whistling to announce his presence. He looks up, pretending to look surprised.
"There you are, Shiota. I was looking everywhere for you," He smiles warmly, donning his most used mask with ease. "I thought we were going to meet in the library after my meeting was over?
Both Shiota and his mother blink at Asano like startled cats, like they'd forgotten they were still on school grounds and his presence had suddenly reminded them.
Shiota's mother's hand loosens in her son's hair, her unforgiving grip shifting into something deceptively softer as she strokes his hair smooth.
If Asano had not seen her grab him before, he does not know if he would have noticed the shift.
(Who is he fooling? Of course, he would have noticed. His father The principal had made certain of that.)
"W-we were?" Confusion has begun to seep into his tone, bleeding emotion back into the blank canvas of his voice.
He isn't actively calling Asano a liar, but he may still be struggling to regain his bearings after his mother's ministrations. He presses on even as a steadily louder part of him screams wordlessly in confusion.
"Makoto-sensei made us partners for the English project, remember? You had to leave for your next class, so we agreed to meet after school." Asano finally turns to Shiota's mother, watching the entire scene with wide, confused eyes, and addresses her with a respectful bow. "You must be Nagisa's mother. My name is Asano Gakashuu, Student Council President."
Her dark eyes immediately light up in recognition. "Oh," her smile glows. "Asano, you say? Like the principal?"
"He's my father," he confirms, somewhat redundantly. He and the principal were scarily similar in appearance, after all, different hair colors, notwithstanding. Asano allegedly inherited his more strawberry-than-blonde hair from his mother, a woman whom he assumed to be either dead or pretending to be dead for all he knew of her. With pale violet eyes, cool and flat like a reptile's, he could reasonably be mistaken as the principal's younger clone. There were times he certainly felt like one, nothing but a vessel to hold all the principal's ambition, all his cruelty, all his self-loathing. The result was an especially spiteful 14-year-old boy determined to burn his creator's empire to the ground.
"Nagisa didn't tell me he had made a new friend," Shiota's mother continues, her plastic smile almost warm enough to feign at being real. His father's The principal's looked more authentic. "Please, call me Shiota-san."
"We don't know each other that well," Shiota interjects, tentatively going along with Asano's story. He takes it as implicit permission to continue this ruse. "We were just assigned partners today."
"Shiota and I don't get many opportunities to talk," he agrees with a shrug. "Different classes and all. This project is actually an interclass initiative launched to foster community within the school and bridge the social gaps."
The lies roll past his lips smoothly, like a well-oiled engine. He would be impressed with himself if he did not know he could do even better with time to practice and prepare. The principal would be disappointed.
"Oh, how lovely!" She glanced back at the school and then her watch. "You said you needed to speak with him?"
"If you don't mind," Asano says, not particularly caring if she doesn't. Knowing she'll agree even before he continues, "My driver can drop him off home when we're done. I'll even give you my father and my phone number to get ahold of us, if necessary."
He's handing it over on a piece of paper as he speaks, acting as if she's already said yes. A negotiation tactic the principal taught him several months ago. The principal would be slightly less disappointed.
"Of course, I don't mind," Ms. Shiota predictably agrees. "I've been telling Nagisa he needs better friends. Hopefully, you can be the role model he needs, President-san."
He smiles winningly, squinting slightly to convey childish warmth and eagerness. "I'll try my best, ma'am."
She turns back to her son, running her hand through his hair again, and Asano pretends not to see the way Shiota's shoulders tense beneath her motions. "We'll finish our discussion at home, dear. Make sure you behave."
"Y-yes, Mom."
She pushes his hair behind his ear, smiles one last time at Asano, then climbs into the driver's seat of her car. About a minute later, she's turning out of the parking lot and disappearing down the road.
"I...Um..." Shiota sounds at a loss for words.
Asano ignores him, making sure there's no chance of Ms. Shiota returning. Once he's sure she's gone, he gestures for Shiota to follow him back to the school, "C'mon."
"W-we don't have a class together," Shiota points out, rather idiotically, as they walk past the front doors. The hallways are empty with most of the indoor clubs already finished up for the day and the sports teams operating on the fields outside.
That means there's no one to see the Student Council President, ranked highest among all the second-years—and quite possibly all of the students at Kunugigaoka—being trailed by a future denizen of E-Class.
"I am aware of that, yes," Asano says drily, going up some stairs. He pushes past the next set of doors and turns a corner. "Here we are."
"Then why–?" Shiota cuts himself off, blinking. "And where's here, exactly?"
"Student Council's Office," he replies, opening the door with his ID card. It was where he had been before stumbling upon Shiota and his mother. He'd stayed behind to finalize the paperwork for future school events long after the rest of the council—the Virtuosos—had left. He was his father's son, after all. Workaholism was in his blood.
He waves Shiota in, rolling his eyes at the obvious reluctance on the boy's face as he toes the line of the doorway.
"Don't falter now. You've already made it this far. May as well see this thing through."
Shiota eyes him, suspicion lined in his delicate features, but he steps inside, shoulders tensing as if braced for an attack once past the threshold.
Asano simply lets the door fall closed behind him, already making long strides to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room near the snack pantry.
"Why'd you bring me here?" Shiota demands. He's trying to sound calm, curious, but his voice is brittle, fragile. "Why'd you..."
He trails off when Asano walks back to him, cool water bottle in hand. He holds it out.
"For your face," he offers, forcing himself to hold his gaze. A part of him wants desperately to look away. He beats that part back viciously. (Never show weakness. Never show vulnerability. Even in this. Especially in this.)
Shiota appears to have frozen in place. His mouth opens and closes, face paling rapidly and further highlighting the red mark on his cheek.
"You saw?" It's more statement than question, more whisper than words. Still, Asano nods.
"Don't be foolish. Take it." He nods to the bottle.
Nagisa moves slowly, mechanically, taking the cool drink and pressing it against his cheek with a soft hiss.
With that done, Asano retreats to his desk, settling into the chair and folding his fingers underneath his chin as he idly surveys the room. Though he'd rather die than admit it, it is a comfort to be here now, something to ground and familiarize him with what is quickly beginning to feel like a new universe.
If he closes his eyes, he can almost place the virtuosos in their respective spots: Teppei at the table, fiddling with his camera; Natsuhiko sitting next to him, ranting about the treatment of the Biology club's pet turtle; Tomoya sprawled out awkwardly on the armchair, mashing at his console; and Ren - stupid, talkative Ren - sitting on the edge of his desk talking about his latest conquest instead of doing his actual job.
The fondness with which he thinks of them all is slightly concerning and a little more than nauseating, so he quickly directs his mind elsewhere. Seeing as how he's going to be in here a little longer, he might as well get a head start on tomorrow's agenda. He pulls out a manila folder containing A-Class's study group arrangements. Some still need to be revised.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shiota wrap his free arm around his middle as he perches gingerly on the armrest of one of the couches. It's the one Ren uses to take the "necessary naps beneficial to his station."
(Asano doesn't believe him but also doesn't care what his secretary does as long as his papers are in order. The principal, he's sure, would disagree.)
"She's not like that normally," Shiota finally says, breaking the silence between them with all the grace and tact of a plastic knife against a wine glass.
Asano looks at him, taking in his profile since he's apparently decided not to look away from the wall in front of him.
"You can't– She's been having a hard time since my dad..." Shiota swallows hard before continuing, voice cracking pathetically. "You can't tell anyone. I– Please?"
"Ok," Asano agrees.
"I'll do anything, just–" Shiota's head whips toward him, blue eyes wide. He looks surprised. "Just– I– Really?"
Asano shrugs, leaning back in his chair a little. "It does me little to no good to tell anyone about your mother. Quite frankly, I could care less about your home life."
And it's the truth, really. Asano doesn't care.
But...
"So, then," Shiota turns, facing him head-on now. "Why?"
That's the question, isn't? Why did he step in? Why did he say anything at all when he could have stepped back into the school and found another way out into the parking lot? Or, better yet, could have had his chauffeur pick him up somewhere else?
To his utmost distaste, he finds himself thinking of his father the principal. Finds himself remembering the moments when he was younger, weaker, and wished more than anything that someone, anyone, would just say something to make it stop. To make his father the principal stop.
Asano is older now. Smarter, too. He can hold his own against the principal on most days, and with every passing day, he's getting closer to being able to beat the man at his own game.
But Shiota...
Shiota is small and timid, face stained red from a slap he had not even attempted to dodge. He couldn't even look his mother in the eye. Probably thinks he can't.
He reminds Asano of his younger self. Of his former weakness. He hates it, hates him. He is tempted to devise some elaborate scheme to have Shiota expelled so he never has to risk seeing his pitiful face again, and yet...
"There is still some janitorial staff on campus," he answers instead, tilting his head slightly. "Someone else could have seen you, and I don't want this school to gain a reputation for child abuse. The principal would be...displeased, to say the least." Say what you wanted about the principal, he cared about the reputation of his school, at least.
Shiota cringes. "Don't say that. It's...That's not what's happening."
The lie is not even partially convincing.
Asano hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. It's not his place to sort out whatever trauma Shiota has obviously internalized while living with his mother, and he highly doubts they'd be able to get to it all within the space of an afternoon, regardless.
They sit in silence for a little bit longer, Shiota nursing his cheek and Asano idly organizing the papers on his desk even though Ren organized them before he left earlier.
"...Thank you," Shiota finally mumbles. "Even if you were doing it for the school. Thank you."
"Think nothing of it, Shiota," Asano regards him. "Your mother is upset about your third-year class placement?"
Shiota winces, glancing away. "Amongst other things."
Right, Asano remembers. Something to do with her husband, as Shiota had implied earlier. A divorce, maybe, or unofficial separation. Once again, Asano can't entirely be bothered to care or ask about it. "She just tends to take it out on me. Sometimes."
More than sometimes if the resignation before Shiota had been slapped said anything. He hadn't even flinched. Asano's slightly jealous. The principal's physical discipline is infrequent. Rare. He never really sees it coming, so he can never properly guard against it. Smart, really, if Asano takes a moment to think about it.
"It may be best not to return home with your mother this week. Or until she has more time after school ends to...collect herself."
Shiota laughs without humor. "I'd have to see her later, anyway."
"Yes, but not immediately," Asano points out. "I don't suppose you've considered participating in any after-school extracurriculars."
Shiota pauses, seeming to thoughtfully consider his suggestion as he tilts his head to the side, sending blue hair spilling over his shoulder.
It really is a ridiculous length. Asano wonders why he does not cut it or pull it away from his face. If not for decorum, then simply to keep his mother from using it as a handhold to shake him like a doll.
He finally replies, "The school year's almost over, isn't it? It's not like I can join any now. Not with my grades, anyway."
Asano hums in acknowledgment. He suddenly remembers something, "You used to walk home, yes? With Akabane?"
Shiota's eyes widen, surprised, before narrowing into something quietly probing.
Asano meets his stare evenly. "I'm Student Council President," He offers as explanation for why he knows this specific piece of information.
Truthfully—and he truly loathes to admit it—Akabane is the closest thing Asano has to a rival at this hellish school. In other words, a potential threat, and his father the principal has taught him to keep tabs on those.
Shiota looks far from convinced but is smart enough to keep from pushing the issue, "Karma's suspended, remember?"
–And they'd seemingly fallen out before then, too. Not that Asano was going to mention it if Shiota does not–
"Not like I can head home with him anymore," the other boy continued.
"Can you not walk home alone?" Asano inquires, raising an eyebrow and not bothering to keep away the slight derision that rose in his voice.
A pink flush spreads across Shiota's face as he turns away, hair hiding his expression. "I...People tend to...mess with me. If I'm alone."
Asano blinks. Bullies? Unfortunate but not surprising. His father's school breeds them in the lower classes. Quite frankly, Asano's surprised there aren't more. Probably because most of them are busy studying for fear of being thrown into E-class. (Probably because the school body has decided to bully E-Class collectively, his brain points out, reasonably.)
"It's not a big deal," Shiota shrugs, sitting a little straighter. "It's almost spring vacation, and I'll be staying somewhere else for most of it."
Asano has nothing to say to that, not really, so he says nothing. He's beginning to wonder again why he decided to step in. It simply wasn't like him. The principal had carved out all his soft spots years ago, and Asano had made short work of what remained.
And yet...
"But thank you, Asano, for today," Shiota's smile creases his cat-like eyes, sends a pink flush across his cheeks. "You're kinder than you seem!"
Asano feels his brain short-circuit, his right hand twitching around the pencil in his hand.
Kind? Him?
Asano is not kind.
No, what Asano is is deranged. Or dehydrated. Or brain-dead. Any one of the above, surely, because—without even thinking —he's opening his mouthing and saying, "You could stay here after school. In the Student's Council Office."
Shiota's mouth parts slightly, eyes widening, "...What?"
Asano clears his throat. To take back the offer now would paint him as one of the bullies in A-Class, and though he is not kind, Asano does not relish being cruel.
Besides. He might as well see this flash of lunacy through to the end.
"I tend to stay later than our classmates and the other council members," he explains, refusing to look away, look anything but put together. "I've been provided with a car and driver, as well. I can drop you off when I'm done."
"R-really?"
"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure," Asano points out, annoyed at both himself and Shiota for having to repeat the offer. "And it's not like you have to devise an excuse since your mother already believes we're working on an assignment together. For all she knows, it could be month-long."
Shiota frowns slightly. "It would look pretty weird if we started hanging out together, though. What about your reputation?"
He's not exactly wrong, annoyingly.
On one hand, Asano has enough confidence in his charisma and manipulative charm to sway public opinion of himself in his favor regardless of the situation. On the other hand, his father would certainly have words if he started hanging out with one of E-Class' prospective students.
Still...
"Don't worry about that. I'll text you when the other council members are gone," He scribbles his phone number down on a post-it note. "You can hang out at the library until it closes, and then come here."
Shiota hesitates a second before rising to take the note. He lowers the water bottle slightly, revealing that the red on his cheek has finally died down. "Why are you doing this?"
Asano doesn't know, but he also doesn't want Shiota to realize that. So, he lies, as easy as breathing, "I think it'd be amusing if Akabane returned from suspension and realized I'd stolen his best friend out from under him."
To his surprise, Shiota snorts, a wicked smile stealing across his features briefly. It's gone so fast that Asano is sure he imagined it.
"I doubt he'd care, if we're being honest. But if it means I get a ride home after school...Sure!"
"Glad we could come to an arrangement, Shiota."
Shiota makes a face. "Um. You can call me Nagisa. Everyone does."
"If you insist," he agrees, slightly unnerved. His own father The principal called him by his last name, even when they were home. "You may still call me Asano."
"Fair enough, Asano." Nagisa smiles again, his water bottle and bruise all but forgotten.