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“You are... asking me to write our next song?” Souma says, feeling his eyebrows draw together in confusion.
“Yeah, if you’re not too busy. I managed to convince danna to give me some of his responsibilities so he wouldn’t collapse under the stress, but…” Kuro grimaces, “turns out I’m stretched pretty thin, too.”
Souma considers this. To be given this responsibility is a great honor, he knows; their upcoming live is an important one, and Keito and Kuro both have been overworking themselves in order to make sure it’s a success. He nods, slowly, and then bows.
“Thank you for this honor, Kiryu-dono,” he says, “I will do my utmost to ensure the song meets your expectations. If it does not–”
“No seppuku, Kanzaki. You’ll do great.”
---
The problem is, Souma doesn’t know what to write about. Each time he puts pen to paper the words that come are either nearly identical to existing AKATSUKI songs or just absolute nonsense. He scratches out the latest failed line, cringing at Keito’s voice scolding him in his head – Turtles, Kanzaki? Really? – and groans, dropping his head onto the desk.
“Kanzaki?” Ah, that voice–
Souma springs up. “Adonis-dono!” he exclaims.
“Is everything alright?” Adonis asks, voice rich and sweet as it always is, thick with concern. Souma can feel the frustration ebbing away. Adonis’ presence has that effect on him, has done since their first meeting.
“Much better now that Adonis-dono is here,” Souma says, smiling up at him. Adonis’ eyes widen imperceptibly and he looks away.
“O- oh. That is… good to hear. In that case – what troubled you before my arrival? I would hate to see you fall right back into such a position when I leave.”
“You are kind, Adonis-dono. In truth, I am… having some difficulty with regard to my duties to AKATSUKI.”
“Oh? That’s unlike you.” Adonis tilts his head, his hair swaying with the motion. Souma is sure that if he were to reach out and touch it, it would be softer than any silk.
He blinks, refocuses his attention. “It is. I must admit that I am embarrassed by my incompetence in this matter.”
“I’m sure it’s not so bad as all that. Just tell me what you’re having trouble with.”
“Ah. Um. I have been tasked with … writing the song, for our next live. But I find myself at a loss when it comes to the lyrics, or indeed even the subject matter.”
“Oh. Well, song-writing is pretty personal. I don’t know how much I can help with that.”
“It is alright, my friend. Merely being able to share my troubles has been more than enough. You are truly always so kind to me...” Souma’s eyes widen.
That’s something, something more than he had before. Souma grasps Adonis’ hands in his, cutting him off before he can begin to respond. Adonis looks – caught, almost, his beautiful gold eyes flying wide. “Adonis-dono! You are a genius!”
“Kanzaki, I haven’t said anything–”
“The subject of my song – it must be you!” Souma grasps Adonis’ hand more tightly in his own. “Please, Adonis-dono, allow me to attempt to express the feelings you inspire in me!”
“F– feelings? I–” Adonis takes a step back, dislodging Souma’s hands from his in the process. The loss of his warmth feels lonely in a way Souma dislikes, but he understands he’s made a selfish request, so he won’t compound it by holding on. “Kanzaki, do you know what you’re saying?”
Souma nods vigorously. “Of course! You are already aware that I adore you, Adonis-dono–” at the word adore, Adonis makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, but Souma presses onward “– and that I would walk through flames for the sake of our warriors’ bond. I feel most at ease – most human – when you are at my side. Why would I not wish to immortalize that feeling in song?”
Adonis stares at him. “Okay,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “okay. Just to be clear. You’re talking about our friendship. Right?”
Souma’s brows knit together. “Of course,” he says, “What else would I be referring to?”
“Right.” Adonis sighs, looks for a moment like he’s trying very hard not to appear miserable. “It would be an honor to have you write a song about me, Kanzaki. Truly. I look forward to your live.”
Souma smiles at him, as wide as he’s ever smiled at anyone. “You have my gratitude, Adonis-dono. I will endeavor to write a song worthy of describing our friendship.”
Adonis’ eyes soften and then shutter. “I should be going. I’m… actually meant to be retrieving Oogami for Sakuma-senpai.”
Souma nods, but Adonis is making a beeline for the door before he can reply in kind. It’s confusing behavior from Adonis, who is always so measured, languid like a cat in his movements, but Souma puts it out of his mind as he settles back down to take advantage of this burst of inspiration.
---
A week later, Souma throws open the door to the Marine Life clubroom with as much excitement as he can. It rattles where it bangs into the wall. “It is almost finished!” he announces to the room.
Kanata looks up at him, placid smile on his face as ever. “Ah, your ‘song’? It is going well, then? I’m pleased~”
Beside Kanata, Kaoru gives him a look he can’t parse at all. “Well?” he says, sitting back against one of the tanks. “Sing it for us, Souma-kun.”
Souma wrinkles his nose. “It is not for you, disgrace. I do not want the first time I sing such an important piece to be because you asked it of me.”
“Hey, that really hurts, you know? Not that I care if a guy sings for me, but if you were a girl, you’d have really hurt my feelings.”
Kaoru pretends to pout. Souma is unimpressed.
Kanata looks between them and presses a finger to his chin, pretending to ponder something. “Hmm… I wonder if the fishies would like to ‘hear’ your song, though? Perhaps Kamegorou-san would gain some ‘enrichment’ from it~”
Souma feels himself flush red, caught between his desire to listen to his club leader and his desire to scorn Kaoru. Kanata only smiles. Feeling somehow chastised, Souma sets down his bag and moves over to Kamegorou’s tank. Kamegorou swims up to meet him, butting his little head against Souma’s outstretched fingers, and he feels that familiar rush of warmth toward this little creature.
“... alright,” Souma says. “For Kamegorou’s sake.”
So he ignores the way Kanata’s obviously hiding a smile behind his hand, the way Kaoru leans forward with something almost like interest, and he sings.
It’s not how the song will sound in the live – Keito and Kuro are both missing, after all – but he sings it as well as he knows how, careful around the edges, cradling the words in his mouth. Kamegorou swims in excited circles as he loses himself in the music.
He sings the final lines, opens his eyes. Kanata is smiling at him almost indulgently, like he knows something Souma doesn’t – but then, all Kanata’s smiles look a bit like that.
Kaoru sits back, brow furrowed in something that would look like worry if Souma didn’t know better. “Damn,” he says, “that guy wasn’t kidding, huh?”
Souma glares at him. “If you have something to say, out with it.”
“Nothin’. Just that, for someone who’s not interested in him, you really lay it on thick with Adonis-kun.”
“How did you…?” Souma shakes his head to clear it. “I suppose it does not matter. Moreover: I do not understand what you mean by not interested. Obviously I am interested in him. He is my dearest friend! You clearly know this song was written for him.”
Kaoru stares at him. “Unbelievable. Just seriously unimaginable. You–”
“Ka~o~ru~,” Kanata interrupts, reaching over to chop him on the head. “You’ve got to let the children figure these ‘things’ out on their own, you know? He’ll only ‘retreat’ further if you tell him so suddenly.”
“Yeah, but this is too fuckin’ far, Kanata-kun–” Kaoru protests. A warning look from Kanata silences him.
Souma leaves the clubroom that afternoon feeling very confused indeed.
---
Souma presents his draft of the lyrics to Keito the following day. As he looks them over, Souma examines his reflection in the mirror, fidgets with the hilt of his sword. It’s unbecoming, he knows, but he can’t help it – he’s nervous, desperate for his senior’s approval.
Keito looks up at him with something like confusion in his eyes, then back down at the paper, then at him again. “Kanzaki, this is a love song.”
He… hadn’t expected that. “What? No. You are mistaken, Hasumi-dono.”
“I’m really not. Kiryu, come look at this.”
“Sure, danna.” Kuro sets aside the delicate hand-stitching he’s working on and ambles over to them. He takes the paper carefully. Souma, this time, stands as still as he can, staring at the floor and trying not to feel as though he’s awaiting judgement.
Kuro grunts. “‘S nice. What’s the problem?”
Keito rolls his eyes. “There’s no problem. We don’t have many love songs in our repertoire, but–”
“It’s not a love song!” Souma insists.
Kuro blinks. “It’s… not?”
“No!” Souma says, feeling a bit like a petulant child. “It is for Adonis-dono. To convey my deep feelings toward him.”
“Feelings,” Keito says. “Not romantic feelings?
“No! Feelings of – admiration! And gratitude!” Souma shifts, grips at his elbow hard enough to bruise. “He quiets my mind. He is my best friend, Hasumi-dono. I am beyond lucky to have met him.”
His senpai watch him for a long moment. Then Kuro says, so patiently that from anyone else Souma would feel almost like he were being mocked, “How is that not love?”
Souma thinks of the documentary Kanata had shown him, suddenly understands a little better the feelings of a turtle flipped onto his back. He grips the hilt of his sword just for the way it grounds him. “It… I…”
Keito takes pity on him, then, sighing. “It’s fine, Kanzaki. As I said, there’s nothing wrong with a love song. It just surprised me. I didn’t realize you felt that way toward him. Or anyone, for that matter.”
“I don’t,” Souma insists, feeling like a petulant child. “We share a warriors’ bond. Like the one between you and Kiryu-dono.”
A beat passes during which both his senpai stare at him, mouths agape. Kuro raises his eyebrows. “Kanzaki, danna and I have been together for months.”
Souma’s brain shorts out, then, for just a moment. “I– you–”
“I’m sorry.” Keito looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. “We couldn’t find a good time to tell you, and then after a while we just assumed you knew.”
Souma blinks, digests the information, sets it aside. “Well– well, then, it is not the same.”
Kuro puts a hand on his shoulder, eyes now full of concern. “It can be, you know. S’okay if it is.”
He looks up, shakes his head vehemently. “He is the greatest friend I have ever had. To wish for more… I would never sully our bond with such absolute selfishness.”
“Kanzaki...”
Souma bows his head. “You have my sincerest apologies, Hasumi-dono. I will– write something else.”
Keito puts a hand on his shoulder, urging him gently to stand up straight. Souma does so reluctantly. “Kanzaki,” he says, quietly, “it’s alright. Your song is good. If you say it’s not a love song, then it’s not a love song. We shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”
Souma looks down. “It is alright. I will– take my leave now.” Kuro is watching him tiredly. Keito looks equal parts worried and frustrated. Souma feels like nothing so much as a disappointment, in that moment. He pauses at the door. “It is a beautiful thing. I am glad the two of you are happy.”
Souma hears them call his name as he slips out of the room, but for once, he doesn’t turn back.
---
The problem is, he can’t stop thinking about it. It’s not like it hadn’t crossed his mind before, after all – Adonis is so lovely Souma thinks anyone would think about kissing his pretty mouth from time to time – but he’d always been careful not to indulge, careful not to let it become anything other than that.
Or he... thought he had been, anyway. When he rereads the lyrics he’d written he’s not so sure. Keito and Kuro are right, after all, as they often are – it sounds like nothing so much as it does a love song, a declaration of affection, a confession. He almost can’t believe he hadn’t seen it before, save for the fact that he’d been trying so hard not to.
But Souma prides himself on his honesty, and to continue lying to himself after it’s been spelled out so plainly would be ridiculous. So.
He has feelings for Adonis.
And when he lets himself think that, it’s like a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t even realized was there to begin with. He likes – loves – Adonis. Of course he does; how could he not? Adonis makes him feel like no one else ever has, like he’s all of a sudden totally sure no one else ever will. He wants to take Adonis’ hand, feel the weight of his palm, to kiss him and hold him and tell everyone on earth how he loves him.
It’s almost overwhelming, how quickly the realizations crash over him like waves, one after the other knocking him down when he struggles back to his feet, again and again.
So he loves Adonis. What now? What do you do when you love someone? Souma doesn’t know. He was taught many esoteric things growing up, fencing and flower-arrangement and calligraphy, but he was also sheltered. There are things – things about love, about socialization, about adolescence – that his classmates learned from each other as children that he will always struggle with.
He doesn’t know what it means that he wants to put his mouth on Adonis’. He doesn’t know how to express the fluttering warmth in his chest when Adonis smiles at him. Exercise doesn’t clear his head; training doesn’t show him the way forward. He feels ankle-deep in gluey mud, unable to move in any direction.
Souma spends the first week after his revelation learning the choreography with his unit and carefully avoiding Adonis. He’d hoped not to make it too obvious – Adonis is sensitive, despite what those who don’t know him well might think, and Souma knows that if he were to catch on to Souma’s avoidance he’d be hurt – but he knows he’s been caught when he’s accosted the next day by Undead’s other third-year.
Rei Sakuma wiggles his fingers in greeting, a lazy smile splayed across his face. Souma looks around for an exit, but he’s cornered; Rei is leaning up against the door to the Marine Bio clubroom, and there’s no other way out unless Souma wants to vault one of the tanks and go straight through the second-story window.
“Kanzaki-kun, just the man I wanted to see,” Rei says pleasantly.
The window is starting to look better and better. Souma gazes longingly at it for a moment before resigning himself to his fate and ducking his head. “Sakuma-dono,” he mumbles.
Rei laughs. “There’s no need to look so frightened. I am not here to admonish you.”
“Then why are you here?” Souma says, tilting his head.
“Mm. Good question.” A moment passes. “You’ve been avoiding Adonis-kun.”
Souma looks away. “I have,” he agrees, because it’s true. He can feel Rei’s gaze on him, piercing him through.
“Are you worried he doesn’t return your feelings?”
Souma’s head snaps up so quickly it almost hurts. “What? How did you–”
“I’m very observant, Kanzaki-kun.” Rei pauses. “Also, my dear friend Kaoru-kun has been worrying about you.”
“Hakaze-dono has? I haven’t spoken to him about my feelings, though.”
“Kaoru-kun can be oblivious, but you and Adonis-kun are both his adorable juniors.” Rei smiles. “It only makes sense that he’d pay attention to the two of you, hm?”
Souma wrinkles his nose at this; Rei laughs a little.
“It doesn’t have to be so complicated, Kanzaki-kun,” Rei says after a moment. “I don’t think all this dallying suits either of you. You’re such good, honest children. And even I can tell keeping this from him is making you miserable.”
Souma blinks, struck momentarily dumb by the simplicity of Rei’s words, the quiet truth behind them. He’d been so caught up in fretting and obsessing over the newness of his feelings that he hadn’t been acting like himself.
Souma bows, abruptly enough that Rei startles a bit. “Thank you, Sakuma-dono! You’ve opened my eyes – I’m sure I’ll never be able to repay you as long as I live!”
Rei smiles at him. “Excellent! I’ll leave it up to you, then. Take care of him, hm?”
Souma flushes, grasps for an appropriate response, but Rei breezes out of the room before he has to come up with one. Souma stares after him, turning his words over in his mind again and again.
It doesn’t have to be so complicated.
His feelings are his feelings, after all. He’d promised Adonis a song which made his feelings plain and he’d done that, even without knowing the true extent of those feelings. It only makes sense that he should go through with the performance and make sure those feelings reach Adonis, clearly and precisely.
Souma barrels into their practice room the next morning, catching Kuro and Keito by surprise. “Kiryu-dono, Hasumi-dono, I must apologize!” he announces.
Kuro frowns at him. “Apologize? For what, Kanzaki? Somethin’ wrong?”
“Nothing so dire as you may be imagining,” Souma says, shaking his head, “but I must admit to having been wrong, the other day.”
“Oh? What were you wrong about?” Keito says, sitting up a little straighter.
“I was insistent that our new song was not a love song. But that wasn’t true.” He pauses. “Or, it was true at the time, but I have since realized it was untrue.”
Keito huffs a laugh, ruffling Souma’s hair. “I’m glad you figured it out. What will you do, then?”
Souma smiles, proud and sure. “I’m going to confess. After the live.” The twin looks of sincere pride on his seniors’ faces makes something like hope swell in his chest. He holds it close.
---
The week leading up to the live is a whirlwind of preparations, as is often the case for Akatsuki. Souma helps Kuro with the costumes, flits around the student council room doing odd jobs while Keito polishes off his paperwork, practices the steps until his legs burn as he walks home. It has to be perfect. He only gets to do this once, after all.
The costumes Kuro puts together are gorgeous, as always, soft lilac and white and deep indigo. The garment’s single sleeve is soft and breathable, the other side decorated with silver chains and lilac threads. Souma starts to tie his hair up as he always does, but Kuro stops him, ushers him over to a mirror in the dressing room and sits him down.
When Souma shoots him a questioning look in the mirror, Kuro grins lopsidedly at him. “You’ve got such pretty hair, Kanzaki,” he says, by way of explanation. “Y’know, my little sister told me ta tell you to wear it down more often? Doin’ this for her sake, really.”
Souma smiles happily, gazing down at his hands as Kuro brushes through his hair. “Thank you, Kiryu-dono,” he says. Kuro grunts at him as he pulls the hair that normally frames his face back and away into a twisted-up bun at the back of his skull. He secures it with pins, and then places a camellia-blossom pin into it.
With the hair pulled back from his face like this, Souma’s features appear sharper, more commanding, more regal. He blinks at himself, then tilts his head up to meet Kuro’s eyes. “Kiryu-dono, I…”
Kuro snorts at him. “Don’t mention it, kid. Like I said, it was my sister’s idea. She’s our biggest fan, y’know.” Souma beams at him; after a moment, Kuro looks away.
Keito walks in, then. Souma leaps up to meet him.
“Hasumi-dono!” he says, twirling excitedly in place. “Kiryu-dono assisted with my hair! How does it look?”
Keito smiles at him, that smile reserved only for his AKATSUKI, the one that makes pride bloom in Souma’s chest. “Excellent, Kanzaki. You’ll steal the show.”
The giddiness from his seniors’ praise carries him through the next few hours of preparation, all the way until he’s waiting in the wings for their cue to exit. He peeks out between the curtains – it’s poor form, and if Keito saw he’d be scolded, but Souma thinks he can be forgiven. He has to know.
Adonis is there, though, just a few rows back, speaking quietly with Oogami to his right. He looks up just as Souma lets the curtain fall shut, and Souma’s not sure if he’s been caught, but he feels hooked like a fish either way. The nerves eat at him; he fidgets.
Kuro’s hand lands on his shoulder. “You’re leading tonight, y’know,” he says gruffly, not meeting Souma’s eyes. “‘S your song, after all, ‘n you’re our center. Show ‘im what you got, alright?”
Souma’s not quite sure how his seniors always know just what will quash the jitters that well up in him every so often, but Kuro’s words settle over his shoulders like a thick quilt, keep him tethered to the earth. This is a live before it’s a confession, after all, and it’s the first one he’s had so much creative input in.
It will go well, because he’s poured his heart into it. This is true of the live and of the confession.
The lights onstage nearly blind him as they flick on. The song is a familiar one, by now, as is the dance. He doesn’t usually perform with his hair down, but the way Kuro’s pulled it back, it doesn’t get in his way. It’s over before he knows it, and he’s being shuffled backstage by his seniors in what feels like the blink of an eye, but– but–
He breaks away, bows low. “My apologies, Hasumi-dono, Kiryu-dono! I–”
When he looks up, they’re smiling at him. “Go, Kanzaki,” Keito says. He nods, eagerly, and takes off down the hallway.
---
Kaoru has Adonis in a headlock in the lobby, knuckles pressing into his head in what is probably a display of great affection for his unitmate. Souma can’t hear what he’s saying to him, exactly, but the expression on his face is an unfortunately familiar one – he’s teasing about something. Souma has a guess.
He draws his sword anyway, for the sake of remaining in character if nothing else. Several of the bystanders in the lobby yelp – Keito is going to have words with him over this one, he just knows it – but he doesn’t have the energy to consider the consequences of his actions right now.
“Hakaze-dono!” he says, pointing his sword. It’s loud enough that all of Undead turn to him as one. Having their attention turned on him all at once is intense, like a spotlight, but he can’t back down. “Unhand Adonis-dono!”
Kaoru relaxes his grip so his arm is draped over Adonis’ shoulder. Adonis is flustered, not meeting Souma’s gaze. A lazy grin spreads across his face. “Oh? And why should I do that, hm?”
Souma narrows his eyes. If Kaoru wants to play it like that – wants to drag a public confession out of him as some kind of comeuppance for his prior obliviousness – he’s happy to oblige. It’s not as though he’s ashamed, after all.
He stands up a little taller. “Adonis-dono is my treasured friend, so it’s only natural that I would protect him from an evil-doer like you, even if he weren’t also the man I’m in love with.”
Gasps from the gathered crowd. Kaoru looks stunned, and releases Adonis entirely in his shock. Adonis is staring at him, too, blushing prettily. His golden eyes are wide with an emotion caught between disbelief and hope. Koga leans against the wall, head knocking against it with a thunk.
Rei breaks the silence with a surprised laugh, loud and unexpected.
“Oh dear,” he says upon pulling himself together. “You’ve made quite the dramatic declaration, Kanzaki-kun.”
Souma puffs up, twirling his sword and placing it neatly away. “Adonis-dono deserves a hundred such declarations,” he says. Adonis is spurred into motion, finally, grasping Souma’s hand in his own and dragging him away. Kaoru calls something after them, no doubt heckling them, but Souma can’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears at Adonis’ warm palm pressed against his.
They wind up outside, Souma seated on the high stone wall behind the theater, Adonis standing stiffly next to him. Souma’s quiet, content to let Adonis respond at his own pace.
“Did you mean it?” Adonis says, after a long moment. He doesn’t look at Souma, watching the stars instead.
Souma smiles at him, though Adonis is not looking at him. “I am not one to say things I don’t mean, Adonis-dono.”
“Not just that. The, uh. The song.” Adonis looks at him then, gold eyes vulnerable and gentle in the moonlight. “You said you were writing a song for me. Was that– did you–”
Souma nods. Adonis falls silent. “Adonis-dono, you are my dearest friend. I am sorry it took me so long to realize what else was there between us as well. I want to grow with you, for as long as you will let me.”
Adonis blinks at him. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Kanzaki,” he says, quiet. Souma’s always adored Adonis’ voice, likes everything he says in that smooth, rich tone, but this is perhaps Souma’s favorite of them all.
He smiles, wide and true. “Then,” he says, reaching out to tug Adonis so he’s standing in front of him, Souma’s hands on either side of his neck, “may I kiss you?”
Adonis nods, still looking a bit shell-shocked. Souma leans in. He’s never been kissed before, admittedly, and he knows Adonis hasn’t, either. It’s okay. They’ll learn together. For now Souma slots their mouths together, pressing insistently for a moment before pulling back. Adonis grabs onto the fabric of his costume to keep him close, and Souma laughs, just a little.
---
Keito is not pleased about the scene Souma made after the live, but thirty-some minutes into his lecture he sighs.
“You’re not even remotely sorry, are you, Kanzaki?” he says.
“My apologies, Hasumi-dono,” Souma says, “but I cannot bring myself to regret my actions.”
Keito sighs. “Go, then,” he says, and watches Souma all but bolt from the room to catch Adonis before his track meet.