Being at school after most of his peers have been picked up already is something that Keiji heavily enjoyed. It made the campus feel a lot bigger, sort of like his own personal jungle or wonderland. As of that moment, his back was straight and his chest was puffed out slightly; Keiji had been given a task, and he was on business. Chin tilted up slightly and hands behind his back, he headed down one floor to collect the scantrons from the year three classrooms. They'd just had their standardized tests last week, just like the year fours. Keiji hummed to himself, excited to get his results back; if he had the highest score of the grade, his parents would likely praise him. Perhaps the three of them would watch some Survivor together, or maybe they'd buy him some good pens.

The first few classrooms on the floor were typical trips. He even got an affectionate head pat from the teacher he had last year. It made him feel important, for a teacher to recognize him as someone worthwhile. Though, if Yoshiko were with him, she'd probably get even more head pats. His feelings about her were funny. Even though she was his fiercest competition, he was never jealous when she got something better than him or when she was treated super nicely. She deserved it. He could recognize this as a crush, but it felt almost illicit, like he was getting away with something.

Head in the clouds, he headed toward the last classroom he needed. He raised his hand to knock, holding the scantron folders in his other arm, but hesitated at the last possible second. He heard something. It sounded like a whimper. Weird. He leaned his head in to listen closer. The side of his glasses tilted uncomfortably, but for some reason, he thought this was important.

"Pleasepleaseplease, don't do that anymore! It– It hurts! Just make me write standards! I'll– I'll write fifty million bajillion! I'll stay here all night writing!"

There was a sharp cracking sound and a louder whimper. "God, are you even capable of being quiet? This is your entire problem. The job of a student is to listen, and to speak when spoken to." Keiji, as swiftly and quietly as possible, dug his tape recorder out of his backpack and held it up against the door. He hoped that the hurt student's sniffles could be picked up. "You are a problem child, Mr. Gima. You are disruptive, inconsiderate, and a failure. Clearly, making you write 'fifty million bajillion' standards has done absolutely nothing to improve your behavior. That won't suffice anymore."

"What does suffice mean?! You always use big words I can't understand and you roll your eyes when I have questions and Miss Inoue, I know I'm a bad kid but I'm trying, I promise–!" His words were cut off by yet another crack, and then another, and he gasped sharply before sobbing. "Ow, ow!"

"Clearly, you are not trying hard enough. With any luck, this may be the... encouragement you need."

At this point, Keiji fumbled to turn the recorder off and hide it so that he could intervene. He didn't know exactly why, but a burst of panic flooded through him, as though something very bad would happen if he stood by. He knocked. "Hush up, now. Someone is here." After a few moments of shuffling, a prim, proper, frankly terrifying woman opened the door. She felt so big. So daunting. Keiji's heart was filled with loathing instantaneously. Teachers were supposed to be responsible. They were supposed to teach kids how awesome learning is, and help them when they didn't get a concept. They were not supposed to act like this. In a very short amount of time, Keiji had to come up with a plan. "Yes, hello? What do you need?"

He took a deep breath. "Hello, Miss. My name is Keiji Sekiguchi. I am a fourth year. I was sent to get the scantrons from last week's standardized tests."

"Certainly." She briskly snatched a neat stack on her desk and handed it to him.

"Are you Miss Inoue?" His heart was pounding out of his chest.

"Yes, that's correct. Why?"

This part would take guts; hopefully his former teacher trusted him enough to back him up on a lie. "May I escort you to Mrs. Miyagawa's room? She wanted to see you about something."

"That's quite alright. I know the way there myself."

"I insist! I think I may have left something in there anyway," he fibbed, silently praying she wouldn't get suspicious.

She gave him a curious look. There was a hint of skepticism, but she gave him a small smile as though she found him charming. Adults often called him 'precocious,' and while it normally pleased him, thinking she liked him made him want to punch her. "Oh, very well. Haruto, good work on cleaning duty today. Have a nice evening, and don't forget to do your homework."

The boy's eyes lit up– Keiji noted how he wore his winter uniform even in the summer to cover his arms and legs– but he said nothing. He simply nodded and eagerly rushed from the room. Keiji stifled a smirk; he'd managed to get a full name AND figure out what this kid looked like without even trying. He led Miss Inoue to Mrs. Miyagawa's class. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Miyagawa. I hear you wanted to discuss something with me?"

Mrs. Miyagawa tilted her head in confusion, but then made eye contact with Keiji. "Please," he mouthed. "Help."

"Ah, that's right! I need your advice on something. Thank you, Keiji."

"Wait, before you start talking, I need to make sure I didn't leave anything." He shuffled around the room, pretending to search, before 'finding' his lunch pail in his backpack. He turned in the scantrons to the front office and then began the walk home. Part two of his plan would need to wait for tomorrow.

...

He found the orange-haired boy playing tag with a group of third years. "Haruto?"

"Huh?!" Immediately upon hearing his own name, he stopped focusing on where he was running and crashed smack-dab into a tree. Keiji grimaced and helped him up.

"Are you okay?"

"Ah– um– yeppityyep, I'm okie dokie! 'Cept maybe I'm gonna need my backup glasses." Someone tagged him, and he gave them a light shove before yelling, "No fair! I'm on timeout!" Then, despite his words being filled with enthusiasm, he started to cry.

"Did it hurt that bad?"

"No... My teacher is gonna be mad at me."

"Let's go get some water," Keiji offered. Haruto meekly nodded. They walked to the water fountain, where he drank enough to calm himself down. "A-About your teacher... I heard her... hurting you... yesterday."

"Ohhhhhh. I thought I knew you. You're that fourth year."

"Have you told anyone?"

He looked aghast. "No! Why would I?! It's my fault she hates me anyway. She wouldn't do it if I was a good kid."

"Hey. No. Did you know that when she hits you, that's super illegal? It's child abuse."

"It's against the law??? So the police could get her???"

"They'd need evidence. But I can help with that!" Keiji pulled out his tape recorder and played the recording. Haruto gazed on in starstruck wonder, as though Keiji were the coolest person on the planet. It was flattering.

"Wowie wow!! So what are we s'posed to do? Call 110?"

Keiji chuckled. "Probably better to tell your parents and the office first. If your parents are good, at least."

"My parents are the bestest!"

"Then let's tell your parents. Meet me at the swings after school and we'll talk to them together."

"Mmmmph. I'm nervous. What if nothing happens and she gets madder at me?"

Even though they were near the same height, Haruto looked so small in that moment. "I won't stop until she's fired. I'm sure your parents will react the same way."

Haruto nervously grabbed onto the older boy's hand. Haruto's palms were covered in dirt, but Keiji tried not to mind. He squeezed back reassuringly. A spark of courage had been lit in Keiji. If this little boy was brave enough to stand up to his awful teacher, Keiji himself could be brave enough to tell his parents about his crush. It wouldn't be so bad!

...

If the bruises on Haruto's arms hadn't been enough to convince Himari and Arata Gima, the tape certainly would've been.

Immediately, Haruto was pulled from their elementary school and began schooling elsewhere. Okemia Inoue was fired, and, after a lengthy legal battle, drained of most of her resources. With the help of Keiji, Haruto and his parents won.

The much smaller problem, the matter of Keiji's feelings, was dismissed and treated with mild disdain. He decided he needed to focus more on his studies, not a cute girl. Maybe then, it would finally be enough. He began his long descent down a cold, isolated path. And from there, the two boys, united for a mere moment in the grand scheme of things, diverged from one another greatly.

...

Seven years later

Keiji was in the library, as always, nose-deep in his French history book. It was the second week of his second year of high school. The room was chilly, but it felt nice. Unfortunately, the place was still bustling with first years who were trying to learn the school's layout. He couldn't wait for the place to get less noisy. For over half a decade now, school libraries were his special place of salvation and refuge. Nobody wanted to be around him anymore, a manufactured loneliness that he filled with knowledge. He was going to have the best future of anyone on this campus.

"Oh my God! It really is you! I can't believe you're here!" Everyone shushed the interloper immediately, and he giggled nervously. "S-Sorry." Keiji looked up in mild annoyance– he figured it was probably someone who recognized him from a quiz show or something.

He fought against the instinctive widening of his eyes. The recognition was instant. He was faced with the same bright orange hair, the same dark eyes (framed with different but nonetheless present glasses), the same dirty hands. But in other ways, he was very different. Of course, his voice was deeper than back then. His arms were unblemished. His smile was natural and enthusiastic. Keiji didn't want this. "What the hell do you want?" he murmured, glaring.

Haruto's grin was slightly deterred, but resurfaced with full force. "Ah, crap. Name, name, name... Right! You're Keiji, right? Keiji... S– S– Sekiguchi! Aha!" he whispered. "It's Bisque! Hi!"

"Hmph. Seems my reputation precedes me. You know me from where, exactly?"

"Oh, right, sorry! I didn't get my nickname until later. It's Haruto! Haruto Gima?"

Keiji tilted his head curiously. "The renowned potter? Intriguing. But that fails to answer my question. What business do you have with me?" As long as he could deny their connection, he would. Though he'd never admit it, he was glad that the guy had wound up in such a successful and seemingly happy position.

"C'mon, dude! You totally remember."

Keiji shook his head. "I have absolutely no recollection of meeting anyone with that name. You must have me confused for someone else. Get lost."

Haruto furrowed his brows. "No, I know you. I'm sure of it. You're the one who saved me when I was eight. You have the same name. You even talk the same."

A scoff erupted from Keiji's throat. "I talk similarly to a grade schooler?"

"Mmm, well, kinda. It's more like you already talked like a grown-up when you were a kid. You're a lot ruder now, though."

Keiji almost wanted to laugh. He could tell that much, but not take the hint that he wanted him gone?! "Whatever it is you think I saved you from, you're mistaken. I've never done anything good for a single person. Ask anyone here."

"You encouraged me to tell my parents about the teacher who was abusing me. You were an older kid who helped me stand up for myself, like a superhero! You even recorded proof! Look, you have an audio recorder here, too! Holy crap, is it the same one?"

"Your persistence is incredibly annoying, as well as misguided. I swear to you, I did not save you. People here literally call me 'that cocky bastard.' I'm the farthest thing from a fucking superhero." The whisper-match was intensifying.

Haruto's breaths shook. "Look, I... I know it's you. It has to be. On the tiniest chance it's not, I'm sorry for bothering you. But I'm not gonna be discouraged. What happened to you?"

"Leave me alone!" Keiji barked out instinctively. Everyone shushed him, which he rolled his eyes at. Nevertheless, he regained his composure. "Look, kid– Haruto, was it?– Even if I am the person you think I am, that still doesn't get you anywhere. I don't remember you, and I clearly must've gotten some sort of lobotomy because I can't imagine any universe where I'd do something like that."

Haruto looked close to tears, but stood tall and defiant. "I won't give up on you."

Keiji was glad he had a pen. If it were a pencil, he would've snapped it from the sheer tension in his hands. "Would you say you've had a happy life since he helped you?"

"Mhm. I owe him everything."

"Then stay away from me. For your sake, and for the sake of the person you think I am. Because if you tag along with me, I can guarantee I'll ruin that for you." He packed his things in a hurry and stormed out of the library. Haruto was left confused, scared, and determined.