Keiji had returned to school immediately after the little intervention of sorts. Of course, he wasn't grandly welcomed back or anything. Most people were likely glad to be rid of him for a while. He was still somewhat burdened by the awareness that they'd one day get to watch him make himself look like a dimwit on television. But at the same time, things had finally started to slow down a bit. He'd somehow managed to convince his parents to attend the fair with him, noting that there might be interesting books on sale. They may have also been trying to make up for the fact that they'd be gone for a string of days afterward. As such, he got to witness Bisque's craft exhibit in person– feigning impartiality of course, but he snuck smirks at the ceramic artist, which made him beam from afar.

Speaking of... "Hey, Keiji! Keij!"

He rolled his eyes and groaned jokingly, but stopped in his path for Haruto to catch up. He dashed toward him wildly, somehow missing the "Caution, wet floor" sign. "Hey, fucking moron, be careful of the—"

As if on cue, he slipped onto his ass, jostling into a girl and making her drop her books. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeppity yep, I'm a-okay! What about y–?"

A look of utter horror crossed his face like Keiji had never seen before. Still on the floor, he hastened away from her and proceeded to hyperventilate. "SORRY!" he screamed, flinching at the volume of his own voice. "'Msorry, 'msorry, just make me—" The last part devolved into incomprehensible babbling, and Keiji was rendered frozen when he got a closer look at the girl. Tall and put-together with a dark, tidy bun. Though she was far from the impossibly imposing figure of Okemia Inoue, in Haruto's mind, she was close enough.

People started to whisper and giggle. A single "What a baby," could be heard softly.

"Leave him alone. Get the fuck away from him," Keiji growled.

"Damn, Sekiguchi. We know he's your pet project, but it's rich that you're calling us out when you tease him constantly," someone else pointed out.

"That's different."

"How, dude?" Everyone was now sneering at him, aside from the girl, who was just paralyzed in terrified silence.

Keiji considered trying to explain, but after a few seconds, realized it wasn't worth it and instead softly crouched to the ground. "Bisque. Hey. It's not her. She's gone. She's never gonna hurt you ever again."

He rocked on the floor, clutching his own arms. His gibberish transformed back into words, the words that Keiji knew were coming but feared badly. "Just make me write standards! I'll write so many standards! I'm sorry I'm such a bad kid!"

Keiji redirected his efforts. Speaking softly enough so that only the girl could hear, he addressed her. "You. Back up. And take your damn hair out of that bun. It's not your fault, but you're accidentally reminding him of a very bad person." She immediately complied, still incapable of speaking. Keiji grabbed all of her books and put them into her arms. She dashed away. "That make it any better?"

Haruto shivered, fresh tears coating his cheeks. "I'm scared." The look in his eyes was the same as when Keiji first found him, bruised arms hidden by long sleeves.

"Bisque. You're having a flashback. I'm— um, I'm massively unqualified for this."

"Kei...ji?"

"Yep, it's me."

"Why did you leave?!"

"You're the one who changed schoo— Agh, nevermind. Take deep breaths." Keiji coached Haruto on his breathing for several minutes. Once his body language relaxed and he seemed aware of where he was again, he nervously glanced at the gaggle of students who had been staring at him. He winced. Keiji turned back around to the bystanders with murder in his eyes. "I thought I told you to make like a tree, assholes."

"Pft. Whatever." Most of them disbanded, but seemingly out of boredom and not timidity.

"Hey, that's the– you're wearing the bracelet I made for you. Since when?"

"It took you this long to notice? I put it on after the hill."

A mild satisfaction softened his features, but he was still far from happy. Haruto rubbed at his eyes. "I'm tired now. And embarrassed. I'm gonna call my mom to come pick me up, I think."

"You can't afford to fall behind in your classes."

"Class doesn't even matter. Even if I went, I'd only just barely pass. My art's my future anyway."

"Goddammit. Fine."

Haruto sighed. "Why are you mad at me?" At this point he was clearly jaded.

"I don't fucking know, okay?! It's not important enough to matter anyway."

"Come to my house after school."

He paused. "Mother and Father should be home today. They wouldn't approve of me spending study time on frivolities. And I can't use the 'studying elsewhere' excuse anymore, because that was clearly such an effective method."

"I don't know what frivolities means. But please, just tell them that you're tutoring me because I pay well. I need to talk to you."

The bell rang. Haruto's face was expectant and uncharacteristically serious. Keiji suddenly felt a pang of fear which dissipated quickly. He hesitated too long to play it cool, which pissed him off. "Four-thirty."

"Okay." After that quick confirmation, Keiji turned and headed toward class, feeling Haruto's stare. Whatever conversation he had in mind, Keiji did not feel comfortable having it. But he couldn't avoid it forever. He'd learned that he'd never win a game of persistence against Bisque. This kid– no, he hated being called a kid. This guy would pursue him to the ends of the Earth, no matter how little he wanted him to. Nobody talked to him about the hallway incident, thankfully. But, to his great frustration, he could hardly focus on any of his teachers' lectures. At last, the final bell rang. Keiji straightened his spine, trying to gain confidence through his posture, and left school swiftly. It was a relatively quick walk, and he couldn't help but count segments of sidewalk as he went; it served as a distraction from his busy thoughts.

"Mother? Father? I'm home."

Sounds of acknowledgment came from the kitchen. He walked in and poured a cup of coffee for himself and his father— his mother preferred tea. "What is this for?" he asked.

Keiji didn't know exactly what to say. "I am... happy that you are here. I missed you both."

Noriko gave a light scoff— it didn't sound hostile, just a smidge dismissive. "Are there any tests you could be studying for?"

"There are two next week... though, I am unsure whether we've covered all the content that will be on them."

"No harm in getting a head start, yes?"

You just got here, Keiji wanted to protest, and you're already trying to send me away to study? But he knew the answer to that already. "No harm, Mother. In fact, it would be rather advantageous. I shall attend to it." He suddenly thought of how Haruto would call out and his parents would eagerly welcome him. How they would hug him each time he came home.

Before he could think, he'd given both parents a hug. Neither of them reciprocated. In fact, they both looked at him as though he'd sprouted a second head. Rin tilted his head to the side. "Do you feel ill? Do you feel the need to apologize to us for something?"

Embarrassment flooded through the boy. "N-No, Father. Forgive me for the intrusion. I'll go do my homework now." Head low, he scurried into his bedroom and closed the door, tackling his homework with the greatest of ease. By the time he finished, it was roughly four. Time to go. He headed toward the door.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" his father asked.

"I am to tutor an underclassman. He pays exceptionally well."

"You ought not to," his mother interjected.

"Why is that?" Keiji's heart clenched.

"It does nothing for you. You learn nothing from it, and you are in fact training your own competition. If it's money you need, you would be better off applying for another quiz show. You could use some more practice after your last showcase."

In only a moment, this had become a battle of wits and wills. "I would argue that it does much for me, Mother. Richard Feynman said that in order to master something, it is best to teach it. It takes a very different skill set to teach a subject than to simply comprehend it. That is why Father's occupation is so valuable," he retorted. Perhaps his father would appreciate the ego stroke.

"That is true. But even so, why the interest in this out of the blue? It has been years since you even proposed studying with any of your peers, let alone tutoring one. Is there perhaps an ulterior motive you are hiding from us? Is that why you are suddenly so affectionate?"

Keiji scoffed, ready to tell the lie of a lifetime. "Not at all. My peers, and especially the underclassmen, are essentially worms to me. There is nothing of value there. It is truly just experimentation— to see if I can, and to secure some extra funds. My sudden shift in behavior is just a result of you two being gone for a while. I apologize for it. It was inappropriate."

His mother gave the slightest of sighs. "Well, we are your parents. I suppose it is only reasonable." Keiji had to stop his jaw from hitting the floor— his mother called such flagrantly needy actions reasonable?!

He recovered quickly. "Even so. I got it out of my system. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go. Being tardy for a time I set would be completely unbecoming." Without waiting for a response, he fled the house.

He was torn between two frightening situations— he didn't want to reach Haruto's house in fear of whatever conversation he had planned, but wanted to get further away from the suspicion of his own parents. For a brief moment, he almost wanted to stay right there in the middle. But, as much as he loathed to admit it... no, he could admit it to himself, at least... he didn't want to break his promise to Bisque.

He rang the doorbell. Himari was the one to open it. "Hello again, Mrs. Gima. I apologize for failing to bring a gift. This was rather short-notice."

Her expression was complicated— sad and tired, but full of warmth. "Dear, don't you go worrying about that. Besides, I told you that you don't need to be so formal here. If you want, you could even greet us by saying, 'I'm back!' or 'I'm home!' Oh, wait, is that overstepping?"

Keiji was frozen. He felt his knees go a little weak. "I'll... consider it. Is Bisque okay?"

"Well. As okay as he could possibly be, given what happened today. But he does want to see you. Come in, Keiji, honey."

He took off his shoes and walked to Haruto's room, not needing to be prompted or directed anymore. Though, when he nudged the door open, he quickly found that he was not there. Oh. He course-corrected and headed to the craft room. The deep brown eyes were affixed on a ceramic rabbit— literal bisque— as the boy delicately glazed it with a fine-haired paintbrush. Keiji chose not to interrupt him; he merely waited and watched a while.

Eventually, the eyes strayed and met Keiji's. He patted a seat on the floor near himself, but continued to paint. "These are gonna wait overnight before I bake them again," he explained. There was a pile of small pieces like that set aside next to him.

"Right."

"Thanks for coming."

Keiji shifted, looking down at the floor. "Yeah. Shit scares me, though. What the hell is going on?"

"Not yet. Still glazing."

The silence was eerie for Keiji, but probably comfortable for Haruto. The suspense had reached into his chest and snatched his heart with its cold claws. Eventually, Haruto slotted the rabbit into place with the group and stared at him, eyes full of clarity. "I asked you this question the first day we met... well, met for the second time, I mean. What happened to you?"