Kusari
Morning in the old school building was quiet in a way the Hyoudou house could never be.
There, silence only meant somebody had stepped into the next room. Here, silence stayed where it was placed. It lived in the old wood, in the narrow hall outside my room, in the cold little pauses between footsteps.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment after waking and let my breathing settle.
No pain in my arm.
No dragging weight in my limbs.
No cold spread in my chest from overusing Stillmark.
No sharp ache behind the eyes from pushing Veil Sight too hard.
Recovery and a full night of actual sleep had done what they were supposed to do. My body no longer felt like something I had to negotiate with it every time I stood.
That should have been enough to make the morning simple.
It was not.
The mirror near the washstand gave me back a face I still was not used to wearing.
Even with my ears and tails hidden and my presence pressed down into something less likely to catch human attention, the first seal release had changed me.
My skin no longer looked as permanently sick with exhaustion.
My face had more life in it.
My eyes looked clearer.
Worse, the change had sharpened the parts of me people were already too willing to look at.
Healthier, if someone wanted to sound kind.
More noticeable, if they wanted to be honest.
I didn’t want the second one..
I dressed, checked the glamour twice, and left my room.
The walk from the old building to the main one gave me enough time to put my face into the shape I preferred for school: quiet, polite, harmless enough not to invite more attention than necessary.
Around me, Kuoh Academy woke into ordinary noise. Shoes at the entrance. Laughter. Complaints about homework. Students talking about television, tests, lunch, anything but the hidden machinery sitting underneath the town.
It worked on people who did not know better.
I changed into indoor shoes and headed for class.
Our classroom was already loud by the time I stepped inside.
That, too, was normal.
Motohama-san was saying something stupid loud enough to carry across half the room.
Matsuda-san was laughing like he had discovered philosophy instead of whatever garbage they were talking about.
Issei was with them, which explained the quality of the conversation immediately.
A few girls nearby were already giving the three of them the same expressions they usually did—annoyed, tired, openly unimpressed.
That was normal too.
Most girls outside the peerage disliked Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama.
They earned it.
Between the things they said, the way they acted, and the fact that the three idiots had been caught peeping before, their reputation with the girls in class was terrible.
Issei was less impossible than the other two if someone knew him well enough. Though that did not help him much in ordinary school life.
He noticed me first.
He gave a small smile.
Matsuda-san noticed next and blinked.
Motohama-san followed a second later, staring in the graceless way boys sometimes did when they forgot that a face belonged to a person.
Then the girls around them started turning too.
By the time I reached my desk, half the room was looking.
“What?”
I had not meant to say it out loud.
Apparently I had.
Murayama-san, halfway through sitting on the edge of her desk, pointed at me without hesitation.
“You look better.”
Katase-sa nodded immediately. “Way better.”
Kiryuu-san leaned back in her chair and looked me over with the far too direct interest of someone who enjoyed noticing exactly the wrong things.
“No,” she said. “Not just better. You look really different.”
That pulled in more eyes.
Asia, seated close enough to hear, looked up from her things and smiled before she could stop herself.
That did not help either.
One of the girls near the window, who rarely spoke to me unless classwork forced it, frowned thoughtfully. “Did you do something with your hair?”
Another shook her head. “No, it’s not that. She just looks healthier.”
Prettier went unspoken for almost an entire three seconds.
Then Matsuda-san, doomed by nature, opened his mouth.
“She does look—”
Murayama-san slammed a book into his shoulder before he could finish.
“Don’t.”
“Ow! What was that for!?”
“Because whatever you were about to say was going to be disgusting.”
“It wasn’t!”
“It definitely was,” Katase-san said.
Issei, for once, had the sense to stay out of that part.
Kiryuu-san was still watching me.
Not in the simple way of someone admiring a change. In the interested way of someone trying to fit a new shape into an old understanding.
That was more dangerous.
I put my bag down and sat. “I slept well.”
The answer was technically true.
Asia looked relieved enough by the explanation that I knew she wanted to support it, but Kiryuu-san beat her to it.
“That is not what good sleep looks like,” she said.
Katase-san laughed.
Murayama-san folded her arms. “Did the Occult Research Club do something?”
That brought the conversation exactly where I had not wanted it to go.
The club trip.
I could feel Issei react to the topic before he said anything. His shoulders tightened the smallest amount.
“We took a trip to the countryside,” he said quickly.
Kiryuu-san turned to look at him, flat and unimpressed. “You say that like it explains anything.”
“It does explain things.”
“No,” she said, “it explains that you want us to stop asking.”
Motohama-san tried, foolishly, to sound suggestive. “Maybe it was a special trip—”
Katase-san smacked him in the arm.
Hard.
“Shut up.”
Murayama-san looked like she would have happily hit him too if Katase-san had not gotten there first.
Asia, trying to help as always, lifted her hands a little and said, “The mountain air was good for her. Also, we exercised a lot.”
That only made Kiryuu-san’s eyes sharpen.
“Why though?” she said to the room. “That sounds suspicious.”
“It’s true though,” Issei said.
“No,” Kiryuu replied, “it sounds like Argento-san is too nice to lie properly.”
Asia made a tiny distressed noise.
I looked at Issei.
He looked back for one brief second, recognized that I was not going to save him, and scowled faintly like that had somehow become my fault.
The bell rang before the room could dig deeper.
Everyone sat, still glancing now and then in my direction even as homeroom began.
The attention did not stop just because the teacher entered. It only changed shape. Less open staring. More side glances. More pauses when I answered something and people looked a little longer than they used to.
By the first break, the girls near my desk had recovered enough to continue.
“Was the trip really that intense?”
“You came back looking like you finally ate a full meal.”
“Did Rias-senpai make everybody do some insane ritual or something?”
That last one was close enough to truth to be irritating.
“Yes,” I said.
Kiryuu-san made a quiet, triumphant little sound from her seat. “I knew it was something weird.”
“Why does it matter?” Issei asked.
She gave him a look. “Because you’re acting nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You are always nervous when girls ask questions.”
That was, unfortunately, true.
Matsuda-san leaned over like he meant to contribute. “Maybe Kusari-san just had a romantic awakening—”
Murayama-san hit him again.
This time Kiryuu-san did not even look over. “You know, girls would dislike you less if you learned when not to talk.”
“They already dislike me too much!”
Katase-san snorted. “That’s because you deserve it.”
“Why is everyone so mean to us!?”
“Because,” Kiryuu-san said, counting on her fingers as if explaining something to a child, “you say gross things, you stare, and you idiots got caught peeping.”
Motohama-san looked offended. “It was only a few times.”
“Once was more than enough times,” Murayama-san said.
“It was worth it,” Issei muttered.
Katase-san gave him a flat stare. “That is not the defense you think it is.”
Asia had gone pink by then, probably because peeping had entered the conversation at all.
That made Kiryuu-san’s attention slide to her at once.
Which was worse.
“Aww,” Kiryuu-san said. “Asia, you’re blushing already.”
“I-I’m not—”
“You are.”
Asia looked helplessly at Issei, which was a mistake.
Kiryuu-san caught it instantly.
“There it is.”
“There what is?” Asia asked, too fast.
“That look.”
Issei straightened at once. “Kiryuu, stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Whatever you’re about to do.”
Kiryuu-san smiled like a fox. “Why? I’m helping.”
“You are never helping.”
Asia had gone from pink to fully red.
Murayama-san looked delighted now. Katase-san too.
Kiryuu-san leaned her cheek into one hand and sighed dramatically. “Asia, really. You need to stop making it so obvious.”
“Obvious?” Asia repeated faintly.
“That you like him.”
Everyone looked to Asia.
Not the whole class. Only the cluster close enough to hear, but that was already more than enough.
Asia made a tiny squeaking sound.
Issei slammed both hands onto his desk. “Don’t corrupt Asia!”
Kiryuu-san looked insulted. “I am educating her.”
“You are absolutely corrupting her!”
“Same thing.”
“It is not the same thing!”
Katase-san laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth.
Murayama-san grinned. “It’s not like being around you is any better.”
Asia looked like she wanted to disappear into her desk. “K-Kiryuu-san…”
Kiryuu-san only leaned closer, enjoying herself completely now. “You need to know these things. Men are dangerous.”
I decided to help.
“Yes men are dangerous, but this is Issei-san.”
Issei pointed at himself. “Hey! Kusari-san, I’m sitting right here!”
“Hmmm, Kusari-san may have a point,” Kiryuu said. “But it still is a useful lesson.”
The worst part was that Asia actually listened to her.
Not because she believed everything.
Because Asia was sincere enough to assume that if a friend told her something important, she should pay attention.
And Kiryuu, for whatever twisted reason, liked teaching her exactly the kind of things that made Asia blush until steam should have started rising off her face.
Issei knew it too.
That was why he looked personally betrayed every time it happened.
I lowered my eyes so nobody could see the slight shift at the corner of my mouth.
It was shocking how quickly I had relaxed around them.
I did not do it again.
The rest of the morning passed in pieces.
Questions between classes.
Too many looks.
Issei trying to act normal and failing every time Kiryuu-san so much as glanced toward Asia with a thoughtful expression.
Matsuda-san and Motohama-san continuing to make themselves unwelcome with almost admirable consistency.
By lunch, everyone had decided the easiest way to continue tormenting us was to do it in a group.
Asia came to my desk as if that were the most natural thing in the world.
“Kusari-san,” she said, hopeful and bright, “would you eat with us?”
“With who?” I asked.
Asia blinked. “Me. Issei-san. Maybe Kiryuu-san too, if she wants to.”
Kiryuu, overhearing her own name, stood up at once. “I do.”
Of course she did.
So that was how I ended up at lunch with Asia, Issei, Kiryuu-san, Murayama-san, Katase-san, and—because they were apparently completely shameless—Matsuda-san and Motohama-san following Issei and trying to attach themselves to the edge of the group until the girls glared them into behaving.
We sat in the classroom instead of going outside. That probably saved some social lives.
Asia unpacked her lunch with the same earnest care she applied to everything.
Issei immediately tried to steal one of her side dishes.
Asia smacked his hand away and then profusely apologized.
I could tell Kiryuu had been influencing her in more ways than one.
Kiryuu noticed me noticing and smiled. “See? She’s learning.”
“You’re evil,” Issei told her.
“I’m practical.”
“You should give up Issei-san. Kiryuu-san will just wait until you’re not around to “educate” Asia-san.”
I decided to try and get him to accept it.
“Kusari-san, you believe some of the random crap Kiryuu spews too. You should be on my side with this!” He shouted.
“Now Hyoudou-san, you don't need to get involved with me helping our sheltered classmates.” Kiryuu-san chided him while shaking her head.
I had in fact mistakenly believed something Kiryuu-san told me once or twice.
I was so used to the underworld etiquette and Devil traditions that my common sense in the Human world was a little off.
I gave them a light glare.
Murayama-san laughed at my expense before she noticed Issei reaching toward Asia’s lunch again and said, “Hands off unless she offers, pervert.”
“I wasn’t being perverted! I was hungry!”
“You’re always perverted,” Katase-san said.
“That’s slander!”
“It’s the truth,” Kiryuu-san corrected.
Asia smiled softly, then pushed one of the side dishes toward Issei herself. “You can have this one.”
His face lit up like she had granted him salvation.
Kiryuu-san watched Asia do it and then turned to me.
“There,” she said lightly. “See?”
I did not ask what she meant.
That would only encourage her.
She ignored my silence and looked between the three of us anyway.
“Kusari-san,” she said, “you really do seem closer to Asia and Hyoudou now. You weren’t referring to them by their last names earlier.”
There it was.
The thing she had been circling all morning.
Our lunch group quieted
Issei nearly inhaled rice.
Asia stopped with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth.
Murayama-san looked interested.
Katase-san looked entertained.
Matsuda-san and Motohama-san looked like they wanted to understand what was happening because it involved a girl and had neither the manners nor the intelligence to do it.
I set my tea down before answering.
“We went on the same trip,” I said.
Kiryuu-san tilted her head. “You were in the same club before too.”
That was the problem with her.
She was too good at spotting the second thing.
Asia recovered enough to try and help. “We all got to know each other better.”
Kiryuu-san nodded. “I believe that.”
She still looked at me, though.
Not Asia.
Not Issei.
And because she was not stupid, she was not looking for romance where there was none.
She was looking at posture. At ease. At habit. At the way I no longer sat like I was waiting to be dismissed from the table.
That was more dangerous than teasing.
Katase-san, thankfully, broke the moment with a grin toward Asia. “You’ve gotten a lot bolder too.”
Asia blinked. “I have?”
“You hit his hand.”
Issei frowned melodramaticly. “Asia-san has become cruel…”
Asia apologized to Issei again.
Kiryuu-san, the instigator that she was, folded her hands under her chin and sighed with exaggerated pleasure. “Asia is growing up.”
“Stop saying it like that!” Issei snapped. Then, to Asia, “And stop listening to her when she says weird stuff!”
Asia looked offended on Kiryuu’s behalf. “Kiryuu-san is my friend.”
“I know she’s your friend! That’s the problem!”
Kiryuu-san laughed.
Murayama-san nearly choked trying not to while eating.
Even Katase-san smiled into her drink.
The strange thing was that the lunch table, ridiculous as it was, felt easier after that.
Maybe because the worst part had already happened.
Maybe because once Kiryuu-san had said the thing she wanted to say, the rest of the conversation had somewhere to go besides circling it.
People asked about the trip again.
This time Issei handled most of it by loudly insisting that the club trip was miserable and involved no fun whatsoever, which nobody believed.
Asia accidentally made things sound more suspicious whenever she tried to make them sound less.
I answered only when directly asked.
Kiryuu-san kept an eye on all three of us.
Just carefully.
When lunch ended, she packed up with a final glance my way.
“You can relax, Kusari-san,” she said.
“I am relaxed.”
“That was a lie.”
Katase nodded as if Kiryuu had just proven a some profound truth.
Asia smiled apologetically at me, which somehow made the whole thing more survivable.
The afternoon settled after that.
Classes resumed.
The room’s attention spread back out into its usual patterns.
Students worried about homework, clubs, gossip, and whatever small emergency the next teacher brought in with them.
I was still looked at more than before. I was still asked once whether I had “started doing something different.”
I said no.
That answer was true in all the ways that mattered least.
By the final bell, I was more tired of being noticed than of the lessons themselves.
Students began to stand. Chairs scraped. Bags were lifted. The class dissolved into after-school motion.
I packed slowly enough to avoid walking out in a clump with too many people.
Issei was already talking too loudly near the door.
Matsuda-san and Motohama-san had attached themselves to him like particularly stupid curses.
Asia was just beyond them, waiting with the patience of someone who knew she would not actually get a peaceful exit if she tried.
Kiryuu-san caught my eye while slinging her bag over one shoulder.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, lower now, without the sharpness she’d used earlier, “you really do look better.”
I looked at her.
This time there was no teasing under it.
Only observation.
“…Thank you,” I said.
She gave a short nod and headed out after Murayama-san and Katase-san.
The classroom emptied around me.
By the time I stepped into the corridor, late afternoon light had already turned warm across the windows.
Students streamed toward clubs, toward home, toward ordinary errands.
Somewhere ahead, Issei was protesting something Kiryuu-san had said to Asia on the way out.
Asia answered in flustered little bursts.
Matsuda-san and Motohama-san, as usual, made everything around them slightly worse.
I should have gone straight back to my room in the old school building on my own to rest.
Instead my feet turned, almost without instruction, toward the others taking the longer route to the club room.
Toward the place the rest of them would gather.
I stopped for half a breath in the corridor and hated what that told me.
Not because it was wrong.
Because it was true.
Then I adjusted the strap of my bag and kept walking.
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