Chapter Text
Murakami Kō noticed something odd during joint practice.
Kageura Masato wasn’t reacting to Kuga Yūma.
No irritation.
No sharp glare.
No instinctive tension.
Just a lazy, knowing look like he was watching the end of a movie he’d already seen.
Murakami frowned. “You’re unusually calm.”
Kageura smirked. “Yeah. Guess I’m used to her now.”
Murakami stopped mid-step.
“…Used to who?”
Kageura glanced at him, eyes bright with anticipation. “Kuga.”
Murakami’s brow furrowed. “You’ve always—”
“Her,” Kageura corrected.
Silence.
Murakami turned slowly. “…What?”
Kageura leaned back against the wall. “Oh. You didn’t know.”
Murakami’s heart rate spiked. “Know what.”
Yūma finished her match and walked over, towel around her neck.
Murakami pointed at her, hands shaking just slightly. “Kuga are you”
Yūma nodded. “Yeah. I’m a girl.”
Murakami froze.
“…Since when?”
Yuma looks down “well i might be wrong here but since my parents gave birth to me.”
Murakami staggered back a step. “No no, that doesn’t, you fight your voice trion body”
“Kō,” Kageura said pleasantly, “you’re unraveling.”
Murakami ran both hands through his hair. “I’ve fought her. I’ve trained with her. I’ve analyzed her combat patterns.”
Yūma blinked. “Still accurate.”
“That’s not the POINT.”
Kageura chuckled. “I’ve known for weeks.”
Murakami whipped around. “WEEKS?!”
“Yup. Basically took a good look and whent What The Fuck I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”
Murakami stared at him like he’d been betrayed on a spiritual level. “You let me keep calling her ‘he.’”
Kageura grinned lile the dick he is. “You did it confidently.”
Murakami made a distressed noise. “Everyone else knew?”
“no but quight a few, witch makes this great” Kageura said. “You’re… late.”
Murakami pressed his palms to his face. “This is humiliating, im so sorry yuma.”
Yūma tilted her head. “Is it?”
“Yes,” Murakami said instantly. “For me.”
Kageura laughed. “You pride yourself on observation. This is catastrophic.”
Murakami paced. “I sparr with her all the time, how could i miss this.
“Kō,” Kageura interrupted, “you are spiraling.”
Murakami stopped. “…I am.”
Yūma stepped closer. “Does this change anything?”
Murakami straightened abruptly. “No. Absolutely not.”
....
Beat.
“…Except that I need a moment.”
He turned, walked three steps
and walked straight into a support pillar.
The echo rang through the training hall.
Kageura dropped to a knee laughing. “WORTH THE WAIT.”
Murakami slid down the pillar, mortified. “…I need to recalibrate my entire self-image.”
Yūma watched, expression neutral.
“…Border agents are fragile.