The school rumors and badmouthing didn't disappear, and it would need more than just one night. They still glanced their way, giving Kaminis dirty looks, but they quickly looked away, afraid to be seen. Freak, gay, or not, they still belonged to V.I.P. students, and offending them could result in increased hardship.
On the other hand, Ueno seemed to be delighted by the latest events. Without much of interference from her side, their rivals suffered a tremendous blow. The rumors didn't need her help at all.
'Who would have thought he is such a freak.' She watched Kagetsu walk into the canteen with the rest of his group. The Snow White poster caught her attention, and she ripped it. 'How sad you can't continue.'
A vampire smile spread across her face, thin as a thread. 'Who would want to enter a club with a freak.' She crumbled the paper, tossing it on the floor.
"Ueno-san," a girl Ueno was passing by whispered. "Kosuke-kun is still staying at home, and he left the club." Then she continued as if they had never met.
"Splendid."
With the second main star gone and an already small number of members, the play could as well be canceled. Another rumor said that was the case, and whether somebody would make it official or not didn't matter to her.
"The hand-craft club is next," she pondered. "There is only that one silly girl, and rules state a club can stay open with at least three members, or it's shut down."
\\_(''>_<'')_//
Rigaku stayed for quite some time silent. He talked only when asked a question and remained inside his head. Even Kagetsu acted a bit odd, losing his energetic smile, yet he pretended everything was fine.
"Go home ahead of me, I need to sort out something for the club." With those words, he had left after the school lessons were over.
His yesterday's words still echoed inside him. 'Is my brother really transgender?' He wasn't sure what bothered him more. The fact he wasn't normal, as society dictated, or that he didn't know how to guide him.
He always prided himself in his brain, but right now, he was at a loss of what to advise. He shook his head, sliding the door of their club.
"I need to clear my mind and calm my heart."
Easier said than done, but something he needed to figure out. He put on the table his bag, taking out notes he had made about the LGBT+ community. Researching this subject could help him to adjust his brother. His fingers twitched, sensing something was off.
He leaned to pick a pen from a small mug when his eyes fell on a sheet of paper sticking out from a stack. He pulled it out as it had a different shade.
"What's this—"
His eyes shot open, and the sheet fell off his fingers. Blood drummed in his ears as his lungs refused to take in air. He knelt down, picking the piece of paper.
"Why there are... mine...?" He darted towards the stack of papers, but he didn't find anything else. He tried to calm his pumping heart, but it was no use.
With a heavy slam, he sat down. Cogwheels ran in his mind, turning at tremendous speed. He closed his eyes, remembering what happened this day.
'We decided to discuss new topics for our club at home.'
Rigaku's figure disappeared from the room, and sunlight moving backward filled it.
'Ai promised to get more data on Satos' ranch over this weekend. He already had a raw sketch of the poster with Ka brainstorming a story idea. I think Ai mentioned one horse named Star that passed away the last month.'
His brothers moved in the corner, where their tables stood. In the middle, they had another for sorting out the topics, finishing details, and finalizing the form.
'Then Freya discovered a donation institute where people can bring their old clothes, toys, shoes, and other things. The organization then sorts everything and makes sure it's clean and still in good shape to be used.'
He saw her taking notes in her notebook and checking a folder. When he approached her, she slammed the folder, looking rather shocked. She ensured him, everything was fine with a wave of her hand.
Rigaku didn't pay it much of attention, but right now, it turned into a clue for this mystery. His dark eyes opened, scanning the end of the table Freya sat at.
'Right. I talked to her from the left side. She has hearing problems due to her burns. I just scared her. I should be more careful.'
He pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing the sketches. 'This is Ka's handwriting.' Rigaku spent months teaching his youngest brother to write properly to no avail. He still had a messy style, but it wasn't as bad as it used to be.
'How did he get access to my—'
"Hey, Ri?"
Rigaku jumped on his feet, pushing and crumbling the paper behind his back. His face paled as he looked into his brother's eyes.
"Are you okay?" Kagetsu gave him a worried smile. "You didn't react."
Rigaku, still not fully recovered, pushed his glasses back. "I-I was just lost in thoughts. Do you need anything?"
"Nah, just getting my notebook, I left here."
Rigaku watched as his brother walked to the table, putting it back into his bag.
"This Saturday"—Kagetsu's voice trailed off a bit—"the Drama club will have two last plays. I'm still participating."
"Oh." More than an answer, this was Rigaku breathing out.
"I promise to"—Kagetsu's eyes glanced the LGBT+ text next to Rigaku.—"What's—"
"Nothing!" Rigaku slammed his hand, covering it.
Kagetsu jerked his body, his imaginary cat ears flattening.
Words of apology dragged from Rigaku's throat, but his lips couldn't muster a word. Why was he furious? His blood boiled inside him! His fingers dug into the papers they were holding, crumbling them as if they wanted to shatter them into pieces.
"Sorry. I won't bother you," Kagetsu mumbled, and with slumped shoulders, he headed outside.
The burning blood cooled down with freezing sweat, soaking Rigaku's skin. No matter how much his brain urged him to stop his brother from leaving, his body refused to move. He bit his lip, sending a pang through his body.
"I'm sor—" his voice died down as his brother already left, and his stretched hand lowered. "N-No!" He hid his face and thudded on the chair, pushing it back with a squeak.
Crumbling the folder under his finger, he realized he was missing something. Looking at the blurry palm in front of himself, he understood what it was.
The sketched paper laid on the floor in a twisted form. He leaped toward it, landing on all fours. With pointless effort, he straightened the sheet as much as he could, with the rest reminded him scars.
"What now?" he whispered, and this time his brain might fail him.