phantom of the opera is a bop
WITH DINNER FINISHED and the plates cleaned up, Kaito found himself in the bathroom he shared with his older siblings. He leant against the sink, eyeing the wounds on his knees. There was dried blood lingering around the scrapes. The bruises on his arms were also starting to darken. His fingers grazed over the raised lines on his skin, as if it would somehow hurt. They didn't; it wouldn't even hurt if someone touched him gently.
He heard knuckles tapping faintly against wood, followed by his mother's mellifluous voice. "Kaito? Are you okay, sweetie?"
"Yeah," he answered.
Mizuki knew better than to take his answer for face value. "Can I come in?"
"Sure."
The door's handle turned and the door opened slowly, revealing his mother and her concerned expression. Concern turned into worry. Kaito felt his mouth become a little dry. He hated that look in her eyes. Hated that he couldn't escape it. Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a tight hug. She was warm and soft against his cheek. Kaito's heart rate spiked as her hand brushed through his hair, but Mizuki didn't say anything to him or release him from her embrace. She only held him closer to her.
"Let me help you," she told him. Kaito could only nod. He let his mother pull away, felt her skin brush against his in a tender graze. He was trembling in her touch. Kaito was sure Mizuki felt it. Even as he tried his best to remain still, he could not help the slight spasms that shot through his nerves.
What she noticed she did not mention.
Mizuki treated his wounds with the utmost care. Took ahold of him gently, guided him to sit on the toilet seat as she fetched the first aid kit stationed idly by the countertop. The smell of disinfectant reached his nose, and Kaito locked his jaw. The pain was expected. A familiar nudge. As was the kiss Mizuki pressed upon each bandage. Soft. Motherly.
Kaito saw the look that shifted through her eyes. The same colour as his own.
It pained him. Physically so.
He let out a deep breath, "Sorry."
"What are you sorry about?" Her voice was quiet. It had that tone of concern, but also that tone of maternal authority. That tone that told Kaito, regardless of what may happen, he could count on her. As Mizuki would remain by her son's side forevermore.
"For worrying you," he said.
Mizuki's hands brushed against his forehead, sweeping back loose strands. "My worries should not concern you." Her gaze was soft and compassionate. But still, there was a hardness about it. He couldn't blame her. "You are my son, Kaito. Everything you do will worry me. I'm your mother, after all."
"Still," he mumbled. "I know that the doctor said not to hyper-fixate, but I can't help myself. When I see the ball, all I can think about is perfecting every move and strategy until it becomes second nature." Kaito's gaze remained low. His fingers flexed from where they laid beside him. "It doesn't matter how many times I practice, it's just never enough. Like...there's always more for me to do. And I can't help but, you know, just do it all." His shoulders rose and fell, dejected. "I know it's bad- I know that it hurts you to see me—"
Mizuki interrupted before he could continue. "I won't lie and say that it doesn't hurt. Seeing you wound yourself over and over again pains me in more ways than one. In ways I could not fathom feeling years ago." Her fingers traced along the sides of his face. Kaito's heart was pounding against his chest. It hurt to breathe. Mizuki's words weren't helping either. He kept his eyes trained on the ground; the simple pattern was much more amicable than his mother's searing gaze. "Nevertheless, I understand what it is like to have these...compulsions. They swallow us whole. Demands sweat, blood and tears."
"It's a pain in the ass," he admitted.
Mizuki laughed, soft and sweet. "That it is, my love." She leant closer to him, invading his personal space and tilting his head up so their stares met. "This obsession for perfection is something you and I share, Kaito. Most say it will kill us. But you know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think it could save us."
Kaito inhaled sharply. It felt as if a sword pierced his heart. Sharp, languid movements.
"Life, you see, gifts us many things we believe we do not deserve. It offers us chances for redemption. Obsession- this desire infects the body like poison. It grabs 'hold of our minds and corrupts. But the beauty of it all, if one chooses to look past the pain and suffering, Kaito, lays in the background. Where a bright light lies. It shines a path for us to take. To help us heal and overcome these urges."
Kaito blinked, blank. "That sounds all too philosophical, 'Ka-san."
"I suppose it does." Mizuki regarded him with fondness. It struck his soul. "But shall I indulge you in a solution to all of this?"
"To what we feel?"
"Mhm. The solution, Kaito, is love."
Mizuki watched her son scrunch his face up. She couldn't help the laugh bubble out her throat. Kaito was unlike his siblings. He was a huge romantic—just like his father—but he did not trust everything to that concept.
"That sounds like a cheesy fairy tale," he said.
"A cheesy fairy tale still exists," she insisted. "Fate blesses us all with soulmates. They are here to teach us lessons, and while not all soulmates stay together, they are still, fundamentally, born with parts of us."
"What if I can't find my soulmates in time, then? Or what if they don't want me?"
"Then they're idiots. Plain and simple."
"But why would they want someone like me? I'm nowhere near as smart as Rokuro-nii, nor am I as handsome as Ryo-nii. All I end up doing is damaging myself. Who would want someone as broken as me?"
He wanted to say those words. Wanted so desperately to speak the false truths that were buried in his bones. But Kaito could never harm his dear, loving mother like that. She had raised him, after all. He knew she would only suffer great anguish to know that her child thought this way. It would break her.
Kaito did not want to burden her more.
"It doesn't matter if your soulmates love you. At the end of each day, when the sun sets, you are loved by us. And when the sun rises, you are still loved. That will not change."
The love of a family far outweighs the love of a soulmate. No matter what may happen, family will continue to love one another. Blood is thicker than water, after all.
"Thank you," Kaito said.
Mizuki smiled, like the midnight waltz between the stars and the moon. "Always."
Lips met his forehead.
"Until every mountain topples over," she swore.
Ishioka derives its name from hills made of stone. They live for as long as they remain.
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The days turned, bleeding into weeks and beckoning the start of a new school term. Hot days and rainy days went hand in hand. They occurred arbitrarily, as if the gods could not choose whether to venerate the lands or humanity, arguing amongst each other.
Kaito resumed his regime. Intense as it was (horribly gruelling if his family had anything to say about it), Kaito noticed the change in his work. His spikes were sharper. His receives were quicker, lower. His sets and serves, on the other hand, needed a bit more fine-tuning. It was a great disappointment to see, but Kaito knew better than to sulk.
He stuffed his feelings away and braced himself for what was to come: school. This year would be different—he knew that much from experience already. This year, Kaito would worm his way onto the volleyball team and perfect his abilities with the help of others. So, despite all the nagging inside of himself that wanted him to skip out on it altogether, he swallowed the bitter bile rising up in his throat and got ready for school.
Aoba Johsai's issued uniform sat snug against Kaito's body. Nimble fingers ventured up the pale lilac shirt and looped the buttons into their respective holes. The sleeves slid down his forearms, covering the bruises that still littered his skin. They had healed enough to be seen with objective eyes, but it remained tender to the faintest of touches.
"Oi, Kaito," he heard his brother call, his fist banging on his door. "Breakfast is ready! Hurry up, or Ryo's gonna eat it all!"
"Coming," he called.
With careful deliberation, Kaito tugged on the light brown pants, his attention focusing on the dark, stitched accents, and rapidly wrapped the red tie beneath his collar. He parted his hair, tucked the cream sweater vest under his arm, and, after contemplating his attire for a few moments, ditched the white blazer on his bed. In just under two minutes, Kaito was ready to go and commence the Ishioka family's infamous breakfast battle.
He made sure his school bag was secure over his shoulders as he left his bedroom, but once outside, Kaito could hear the lively chatter emanating from the kitchen. A leisurely smile crossed his face. Feet thudded down the stairs. His father's hefty laughter rang in the air, followed by the child-like squeals of his youngest brothers. Yuuji. Yutaka. Oh, how they blessed his ears with their voices.
"Now, now, my dears," his mother crooned. Kaito was sure she stood with her favourite apron wrapped around her waist, a spatula in her hands. He could smell the scent of smoked salmon in the air, followed by rice. Perhaps soup? "Save some for your brother."
Ryo spoke, "Not our fault he's taking forever."
His twin added, "Just means more for us."
"I'm right here," Kaito announced. He stepped through the threshold where the kitchen met the hallway. "I didn't even take that long. You two are just impatient."
Mizuki shot the three of them a look. She knew that furthering this conversation would only give rise to insults—curses she did not want her youngest twins to hear. The jar stationed on the kitchen island was slowly spilling over, filled with cash and coins that gleamed under the artificial lights.
"Eat some food, Kaito," she told him. "You're going to be late for school."
"Okay," he said. He took his seat at the table and scarfed down his meal. Their father sat at the head of the table; a newspaper opened in his hands. He watched his family with fondness. It was their tradition to eat breakfast and dinner together. It wasn't much, but it made Sora exceptionally happy to know that he could start his mornings surrounded by the sweet, warm embrace of love and finish his days in the same hold.
Kaito pushed his glass forward. Rokuro noticed the silent gesture. He reached for the pitcher of orange juice on the table and poured his younger brother a glass.
"Thanks," he said.
There was no need for more words when it was all of them together. The feeling that was entirely home was more than enough.
"Kaito-nii!" Yuuji called, smiling. "Are you going to tryouts today?" His plate was with their mother. She was chopping up the food into small, bite-size pieces, doing the same for Yutaka, too. Mizuki started work later than all of them; she usually took Yuuji and Yutaka to school and left the responsibility of picking them up to the older three (sometimes Sora).
Kaito replicated his smile and shook his head. "Not yet. I still have to ask my friend."
"Da'ya think he'll say yeah?" Yutaka asked with a tilt of his head.
"I hope so," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Otherwise, I wasted my whole summer."
Ryo snorted. "Even if he disagrees, I'm sure you'll find a way to get on that team. Wouldn't be surprised if you deadass just snuck in."
"Ryo," Mizuki tutted. "No swearing."
"My bad."
( he'd add the money in the jar later )
"I'm sure you'll be fine, son," Sora placated, folding the newspaper. "If they won't let you in, that's just a testament to their own ignorance." He laid it on the space beside his plate. "You're a good player—you've far exceeded my expectations, that's for sure."
Kaito beamed, "Thanks, Otou-san!"
"Besides, if they say no, I'll pull a few strings and get you on a better team." Kaito didn't doubt his father's words. He knew that his connections ran far and wide. "They'll help you a lot more than some high school team."
Kaito sweatdropped, "As fun as that would be, I really wanna join my school's team."
"Ah, yes, because of that Oikawa-san guy, right?" A teasing glint shone in his eyes, and Kaito braced himself for what was to come. His father did not hold back with his mischief—a trait that has landed him sleeping on the couch many, many times. Still, his soulmate loved him all the same. "You know, it sounds a lot like you have a crush on him."
His cheeks grew warm. Kaito's family knew him well enough to notice the tell-tale signs.
He spluttered, "I do not!"
Sora threw his head back and laughed, almost affectionately. He clutched his stomach.
"You make it hard for us to believe otherwise," Mizuki said. There was a lilt of humour in her tone, edging into amusement. "It's nothing bad, of course. Your father and I have no prejudice over who you choose to like." She shrugged. Regarded them each with fair, honest smiles. "After all, no one can control who their heart yearns for."
Sora nodded. "She's right. You're free to love whoever you want. All of you. We've got no problems over here." He rose his hands and leaned back in his seat, ankles crossed. "Well, unless they're a serial killer or something. Then we might draw the line there."
Rokuro lifted his brow. "Might?"
"Yeah, well, if Sukuna manifested into reality and you fell in love with him, how could I blame you?" Sora sighed dreamily, "Man's mighty fine. Hell, I might even snatch him from you." He winked at his older children, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Everyone knows that a dilf is better than a bunch of twi—"
Mizuki cut him off with a deadly glare. "Sora, if you finish that sentence, I swear you're going to sleep with the dogs tonight."
"Huh? We don't even have dogs?!"
Yutaka blinked up at their mother. "What's a dilf?"
Four chairs scraped against the floor. "Oh, would you look at the time," laughed Sora, checking his watch. "I've gotta get going. Love you all. Have a good day!" Ryo, Rokuro and Kaito copied their father's actions, playing along and rushing out of the kitchen stat.
They did not want to explain that concept to Yuuji and Yutaka and suffer their mother's wrath. Mizuki could put Thetis to shame with her frosty stares and cut-throat words.
"Will you pick Yuuji and Yutaka up from school afterwards?" Rokuro questioned, watching as Kaito sat down on the wooden step and slipped on his school shoes.
"Sure. What time?"
"They have an extracurricular activity, so probably around three-thirty?"
Kaito nodded. "Yeah, that's doable."
Ryo and Rokuro smiled. They reached forward and ruffled his hair, purposely messing it up. They knew he didn't care; Kaito wasn't one to worry about his looks. He made do with what he had and nothing more.
"See you later, then." With that, they left the house. Kaito didn't take too long to leave either. He called a quick goodbye to their mother and the younger twins, smiling as he heard them return his gesture. He shut the door gently behind him and moved forwards.
Kaito's steps were measured and quiet. The path to Aoba Johsai High was laid out clearly in his head, and he only had to follow the mental lines and curves that illuminated.
His brain worked like this: he pictured something out in his head—really, really pictured it—every tiny little detail—and then pictured the action that he would need to take—each slight movement—shift, jump, turn—and, like the shore retracts into the ocean, moved. Like it was natural. Instinct.
Scenery, people and sounds filled Kaito's senses as he neared the school grounds. He walked with purpose, the wind touseling his hair. He felt as if a hand caressed his face, grazing his skin lightly, giving a chill to his spine. The familiar bricked walls came into his sight. Kaito adjusted his grip on the strap of his bag as he approached the gates of the school. It was new, modern, with large windows gleaming under the sunshine.
People shuffled in; some were carefree and energetic...others, not so much. Yet, the fact remained, as Kaito stepped inside, he knew that this place was all of theirs' second home. A place of refuge. A place of trauma. Each had their own feelings about Aoba Johsai High.
For Kaito, this was a place to fill his boredom. To bring excitement.
And none more than today.
"Morning!"
"Great to see you again!"
"Hi!"
Smiles stretched across the students' faces. Grins, beams. Eyes alight with wonder and enthusiasm (a slight dread, too). Kaito matched with the vibes. He waved to everyone that greeted him, conjuring small talk as he slipped on his indoor shoes.
Summer was discussed, experiences were shared. Kaito found himself feeling good, but something didn't feel right. Like there was an itch just beneath his skin. A tension in his chest, one that seemed impossible to escape.
"Hey, Kaito!"
"How've you been?"
"You look great!"
Associating with others was an Ishioka's second nature. They were amicable people, seeking emotional connections and sentimental bonds like they were common antiques. Anticipation spilt over Kaito like black ink. His fingers twitched by his side.
As he conversed lightly with others, making his way to his designated classroom, Kaito only had one person in his mind.
Chesnut-coloured eyes scanned the area.
A boy with light caramel hair and swishy bangs sat near the back of the room. Round, brown eyes focused on the phone in his hand, his thumb scrolling through whatever he was reading. Kaito perked up almost instantly.
He manoeuvred through the room with expertise, dodging conversations that sat on the tip of his classmates' tongues.
Hands slammed onto a wooden desk.
Yahaba jumped up. His head snapped upwards in surprise.
"Kaito-san?"
"Shi-san!" he grinned. "Let me try out for the volleyball team!"
The second-year setter blinked. "What? Is this some joke?"
He watched as Kaito shook his head swiftly. "No, no. I want to try out," he explained. "Like genuinely, genuinely try out."
"...But it's the middle of the season?"
"And?" Kaito cocked his head to the side. "Is there a rule that says I can't?" There was authentic curiosity in his tone, laced with his words and the slip of his tongue. Yahaba knew better than to take Kaito's request as a form of sarcasm or mockery. The two of them had grown up together. They were practically neighbours, only living a few streets away from each other (although they didn't really hang out much after Yahaba joined the team in his first year of high school).
"I mean- I don't think so. Not that I know of." Yahaba's brows scrunched together, slightly weirded out. "Why do you want to join anyway? I thought you didn't like volleyball."
Memories of their past surfaced, of the days when a young Kaito would spend hours upon hours complaining over the lack of attention he was receiving from his dear friend.
"It's not that I didn't like it," Kaito said, gesturing to god-knows-what. Yahaba had learnt to ignore his exaggerated gestures; it was a way to release pent-up energy. "It's just that I never had a reason to think about it."
"And now you do?"
"Yup!"
Yahaba stared at him. Really stared at him. He hadn't expected this of all things to occur, but it was happening, and who was he to deny Kaito's request? Kaito was standing in front of him now, smiling expectantly, his lips stretched to show off his pearly-white teeth. They sharpened near his canines, offering a dangerous glint. It was replicated in his eyes. Those chestnut-coloured eyes he had grown up with were different. They burned.
There was a fire there. Not like the flames that consumed trees in a forest fire. Or like the crackle of flames that came from an open fireplace. No, this fire was far brighter.
He was sure those flames could rival the sun's.
Yahaba was many things: cold, aloof, empathetic. Above all, he was analytical. He wasn't Aoba Johsai's backup setter for no reason. That's why he didn't miss the bruises peeking out from Kaito's sleeves, nor did he miss the calloused view of his hands.
Yahaba was many things, but an idiot was definitely not one of them.
He could see determination when it was in front of him. The look written on faces that would dare to defy the gods themselves—Yahaba had seen it many times in his upperclassmen's faces. Kaito's expression was nothing new. And Yahaba knew it was something that should not be denied.
"Fine," he acquiesced. "But after this, you owe me."
Kaito's eyes lit up. "Deal! Thanks, Shigeru!"
Kaito returned to his desk, and Yahaba watched as people flocked toward him, strangely attracted to him like metal to a neodymium magnet. It was pretty terrifying. Their classmates—strangers—gravitated to Kaito like unknown preys drawn to their awaiting predator. Yahaba had known for a long time that Kaito was anything but a sheep. His tenacity—his desires that laid deep in his cells could threaten to eat the world raw and actually go through with it.
He watched as Kaito laid back in his seat, youthful expressions washing across his face. He knew. That boy was someone that not even the gods should mess with.
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Classes ended, and after-school clubs began. Yahaba stood to the side of the court, dressed in their training uniform: turquoise shirts and white shorts. Thoughts raced through his head, differing in their nature. He was conflicted. He had never once seen Kaito play volleyball—even if he had miraculously learnt how to, why would he want to play now? Was it some joke that the other students put him up for? Was he meant to act as a disruption?
No, no. That couldn't be it.
Yahaba knew better than anyone that Kaito was not lying. He earnestly wanted to try out. But was it worth the hassle?
The thoughts in his head were so contradictory they were beginning to propagate a headache out of him.
If Kaito tried out and turned out to be horrible, not only would it put a damper on his mood, but it would also waste valuable training time—Yahaba did not want to be on the receiving end of disappointed gazes. They had already lost to Shiratorizawa once this year. Yahaba knew that the third-years would rather die than let that happen again.
Yet, something inside of him, deep down, buried under layers of rationality and logic, told him that it was worth it. Told him to take the step forward and help out a friend.
Besides, Kaito's rich, Yahaba thought as he walked up to his coaches on the sidelines. I can get him to buy me a whole month's worth of snacks as compensation.
"Yahaba-san?" Sadayuki Mizoguchi looked up to the second-year that approached them, his face twisted into something too puzzling to understand. Like a mix of displeasure, confusion and slight discomfiture.
He paused for a second, trying to formulate his thoughts. "I've got a friend who wants to try out for the team," Yahaba explained. Nobuteru Irihata blinked in surprise, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm not sure why—we're already halfway through the year—but I trust that he's genuine. I owe him this much anyway, so I thought I'd ask."
Aoba Johsai's volleyball team coaches looked at each other. They would not lie and say it wasn't unexpected. For someone to join so late in the year...they either had to be really confident in their abilities or really fucking stupid (not that they would ever say that).
Mizoguchi cleared his throat. "Since Yahaba-san is the one that's asking, I suppose there's no harm."
That's all Yahaba needed to hear.
He bowed. "Thank you."
"Let your friend come tomorrow after school. We'll go through the regular drills and see if he'll add anything to the team." Irihata's eyes turned stern, wrinkles adorning the corner of his cheeks. "But let him know that, just because he's trying, it does not mean he'll be accepted. We have a standard, and if he does not meet it, he is not permitted to join, regardless of your connection with him."
"I understand," Yahaba said. "Again, thank you."
"It's no problem. Now, go drink some water. Break ends in two."
During that time, Yahaba snuck out his phone and typed a quick text, hearing his name being called behind him. He sent it with a swipe of his thumb and then put the device away lest he got in trouble with his teammates.
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shishi (⌐■_■)
come tmr. 3:30.
don't be late.
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A wide grin perched on Kaito's lips.
"Hell yeah!"
"Onii-shan?" Yuuji wondered, big doe eyes staring up at him. "Are you okay?"
Kaito glanced down from his phone. He watched as the younger twins waddled out of their school, backpacks slung over their tiny shoulders. "I'll tell you at dinner." He pocketed his phone and gestured for them to follow him. "Come on, let's go home."
"Wah?! But we wanna know now!"
"Nu-uh," Kaito sang, grabbing hold of each of their hands. He gripped them tightly. "You gotta wait for everyone else."
"Tha-sh so not fair!"
"Kaito-nii! This is why we prefer Ryo-nii and Rokuro-nii!"