“So what if I don’t wanna
Stay out all night?
So what if I don’t wanna
Be your man?
So what if I don’t wanna
Say I’m alright?
So what, so what?!”
══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══
Oh shit.
Those two words had been playing on repeat in Oikawa’s mind since the moment he answered the door yesterday evening. He did his best to brush off Hanamaki’s sudden appearance during the rest of his date with Alisa, but she was not one so easily fooled by charismatic smiles and evasive segues. She was the one who had to tell him that he was very clearly distracted by something to do with his friend and that they should simply pick things up again when he could relax a little more, like he had been before.
He felt awful about it, naturally, but Alisa was surprisingly understanding. She told him about how she was used to dealing with the friendly feuds her bandmates constantly got into, so she had developed something of a sixth sense for when people needed time and space to themselves to sort things out. It was yet another quality about her that left Oikawa just a little more speechless and enamoured.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly reminisce on what a lovely time they’d been having when he had to worry about whatever it was Hanamaki had wanted to talk to him about. He could only assume it had to do with Matsukawa in some way, which did nothing to settle his nerves. It took quite a bit of pacing around his living room after Alisa had left before he gathered up the courage to call Hanamaki and set up a time and place to meet. The brief exchange over the phone was perhaps even more awkward than the one they’d had at his door. Honestly, what horrible timing.
Of course, there was also the very pertinent issue of how he was going to explain Alisa when Iwaizumi was the one he was supposed to convince everyone he was seeing. Given, he hadn’t been doing a very good job of that, considering all of his friends now had something or another to hold against him and he didn’t have the chance to flaunt his fake relationship in front of them lately. Now, however, Hanamaki had seen him on a date with some random omega he’d never met and of course she would be the most logical choice if Hanamaki were to try to deduce the details of Oikawa’s relationship status. It made much more sense for an alpha who was put off by the advances of another alpha to end up in a more traditional relationship with an omega, after all, but that was the opposite of what Oikawa wanted! And if he kept up his charade with Iwaizumi, he would paint himself as not only a back-stabbing hypocrite, but a cheater to boot.
…Would that be so bad, though? Oikawa pondered that as he walked down the street toward the izakaya he had agreed to meet Hanamaki at. Obviously, being labeled a cheater was an awful thought, especially since he would never dream of doing such a thing, but for the purposes of making Matsukawa hate him…it couldn’t hurt, right? Er, well, it definitely could and would hurt to a great extent, but wasn’t that the idea?
Oh, but what would Alisa think about it all? She had no idea what Oikawa was scheming against his best friend. She had no idea about Iwaizumi, either, for that matter. Was it better to tell her, or leave her out of it until everything was said and done? What if someone told her, thinking that he was genuinely cheating on her, and she became rightfully upset? And what about Iwaizumi? How was he going to feel about Oikawa dating an omega?
Wait—why did that matter? He and Iwaizumi weren’t actually together. Oikawa could date whoever he wanted. He had made it very clear on several occasions that their “relationship” was only an act. They barely had a relationship as it stood. Oikawa only called on him for anything vaguely partner-ly when the opportunity arose to shove it in Matsukawa’s face, of which there weren’t many. Gods, he sounded so sick when he thought about this stuff. He had to wonder if it were all really worth it sometimes.
He was still lost in thought by the time he arrived at the izakaya. It was late afternoon, so it wasn’t too strange to be there, but it was still early enough that there weren’t many patrons lingering about. Oikawa was taken to one of the small private rooms in the back that they had reserved for the undoubtedly intense and uncomfortable conversation they were going to have. He held back a sigh as he knelt down on the opposite side of the table from Hanamaki, the latter having taken the seat nearest the door. It almost made Oikawa want to laugh. The thought that Hanamaki might still regard him as superior in some way was…a curious notion, to say the least.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Hanamaki said without meeting his eyes, instead busying himself with pouring the sake that was already on the table.
“Yeah… I was surprised you wanted to talk to me at all,” Oikawa admitted, keeping his own gaze on the table in front of him. “Is…is Mat—”
“Matsu’s fine,” Hanamaki interrupted. “I mean, he’s not fine, obviously , but he’s not…” Oikawa glanced up when he paused, watching as Hanamaki pursed his lips and sighed before placing a cup of sake in front of him. “That’s not why I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to talk to you because…because I shouldn’t have punched you in the face and I’m sorry.” Oikawa blinked and opened his mouth to respond, but Hanamki continued, “Even if you really, really deserved it…I shouldn’t have. That wasn’t my call to make.” He then tipped back his cup to swallow down his sake in one go. Expression softening, Oikawa took a deep breath and followed suit.
“I…appreciate that,” he said. “Even though I do agree I deserved it. I’d like to apologize to Mattsun myself, but I can’t imagine he’s very keen to see me anytime soon…” He traced the rim of his cup, staring down into it after he had emptied it down his throat. Hanamaki was silent for a moment before wordlessly reaching over to refill their cups.
“You and I both know that’s bullshit,” said the strawberry blond, prompting Oikawa to look up at him suddenly, brows furrowed in preparation to defend his sincerity. “He’s always over the moon to see you. He just knows that it would only hurt him at this point.”
Oikawa dropped his gaze again at that. With all the time he spent wishing Matsukawa would hate his guts, it was easy to forget how much Matsukawa loved him. Enough to confess to him despite being another alpha, and enough to keep letting him in even as Oikawa continued to hurt him. He had to wonder why that was.
“Why’d you do it, anyway?” Oikawa glanced up again, blinking. “Get drunk and show up at our house and do all that shit? What was going through your head?” Hanamaki tipped back another drink. His choice of words were decidedly a bit accusatory, but the tone in which he asked the question sounded merely curious. Oikawa pressed his lips into a thin line as he recalled that night.
“...I missed him.” The words fell from his lips without his meaning to, an admission to something he hadn’t even known he was feeling at the time. “We hadn’t spoken since he confessed. Suddenly losing all contact with my best friend like that…and knowing what was happening to him…” Oikawa gripped at the fabric of his pants under the table. “It was eating me up inside, so I just…ended up there, and when I got there and I saw him, all I could think about…was how much I didn’t want him to be in pain because of me anymore. I thought…if I could just…”
“...If you could just give him what he wants, then he would get better,” Hanamaki finished. Oikawa slowly lifted his eyes to meet Hanamaki’s again, but the latter’s gaze was distant, lost in his own thought. After a moment, though, they returned their focus to Oikawa. “It’s not like you didn’t have chances to talk, though. I mean, that day you drove me home from the courthouse—what the hell was that all about?”
“That—”
“You specifically said you wanted to talk to him then, so why the fuck would you blow it like that? I mean, on one hand you say you miss him and can’t bear to see him in pain, but on the other hand, it’s like you’re trying to make him miserable. It’s almost like you want him to hate you.”
Oikawa froze at that. He felt the blood drain from his face and his heart thud loudly against his ribs as he watched Hanamaki reach for the bottle of sake again, praying that he wouldn’t pay any mind to his genius deduction before Oikawa could scramble together a suitable excuse. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side. Hanamaki paused just before pouring himself another cup as his head snapped up to level Oikawa with a wide-eyed look of realization.
“You do. ”
“Makki, listen—”
“That’s exactly what you’re trying to do!” Hanamaki jabbed the sake bottle at him accusingly, a few drops splashing out onto the table. “You think you can cure his Hanahaki Disease by making him hate you instead of love you!”
“Please try to understand,” Oikawa begged. “I never wanted it to turn out like this!”
“Understand?” There was a chuckle beneath Hanamaki’s voice that gave it an uneasy edge. Oikawa leaned back as he placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, feeling himself break out into a cold sweat at the thought of his friend punching him again. The half-smile of disbelief did nothing to assuage his fears until Hanamaki spoke again. “You brilliant fucking bastard.”
…Wait, what?
“...Sorry?” Oikawa asked, still unsure of whether or not he should expect a fight to break out in this suddenly suffocatingly small room.
“I can’t believe you didn’t just tell me that in the first place. I can’t believe you still didn’t say anything after I punched you!” Hanamaki sat back again and laughed as Oikawa looked on warily. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, showing up in the middle of the night and making out with him was still pretty fucked up, but damn! You could have just said something, ya know?” Oikawa blinked at him owlishly as he watched Hanamaki down another cup of sake.
“So, wait…you’re not mad?” he asked. Hanamaki shrugged.
“I’m a little ticked you didn’t tell me sooner, but I guess I get it,” he said. “I can’t imagine being in that position, after all. I’m just glad you’re not a complete piece of shit, ya know? You’re just trying to save his life and give him a chance to fall in love again, which is…actually pretty damn admirable. The methodology is super fucking manipulative and makes me worry about you a little, but…I think it could work.”
“You do?” Oikawa asked, eyes brightening up a bit. “You really think it’s possible?”
“Well, it makes sense, right?” Hanamaki said. “If the love disappears, there’s nothing to sustain the Hanahaki. It dies naturally, instead of being extracted, and he doesn’t risk losing his ability to love again, or just dying anyway if surgery isn’t—”
They both fell quiet at that. There was no telling how far along Matsukawa’s Hanahaki Disease was by this point, or how long it had been festering, unless he went to see a doctor, and if he did that, they would want to keep him for surgery. A surgery that wouldn’t guarantee his survival if the Hanahaki were too deeply rooted.
“...My thoughts exactly,” Oikawa said after moment. He then lifted his cup to his lips to drink down his second glass of sake at last. Lowering it again, he continued, “It’s not enough for him to just stop loving me. Logically, hatred would kill off the Hanahaki faster, right? And as much as it kills me to lose him…I’d much rather he be alive and well, even if it means no longer having him in my life.”
Hanamaki’s eyes softened and Oikawa could see a new kind of understanding hit him in that moment. He offered a small smile as Hanamaki reached over to rest a hand on his arm, covering it with his own hand.
“I’m sorry, Oikawa. I had…no idea how much you were dealing with,” the beta said. “I was so wrapped up in my own feelings… And it should have been obvious something wasn’t right. Yahaba totally called it, too. Shit, I’m an idiot.” Hanamaki leaned back again to cover his face with his hands as he groaned. Oikawa breathed out a quiet laugh and shook his head.
“You’re not an idiot. Part of my plan was not telling anyone about my plan so that it would be more…believable, I guess. And…if I actually get him to hate me, I didn’t want anyone to have to worry about whose side to pick. I wanted him to be able to stay friends with everyone and…”
He didn’t even realize his eyes were tearing up until he felt his chest constrict around his words. Hanamaki was quick to crawl around the table and kneel beside him instead, drawing Oikawa into his arms with quiet words of reassurance. Oikawa never even considered how much pressure he had put on himself by trying to do all of this alone with only a practical strange as his partner in crime. He never bothered to let himself acknowledge the weight of what it would all mean when everything was said and done. Losing not only Matsukawa, but all of his friends was a devastating thought when he allowed himself the time to consider it.
It also helped him realize just how much he really, really didn’t want to go through with it, but it was still their best shot at saving Matsukawa’s life, so, just as he kept telling himself, he didn’t have much of a choice.
“You’ll still have me in your corner,” Hanamaki muttered before slowly leaning back, though he kept one arm slung around Oikawa’s shoulders. He offered a supportive smile, but it began to falter as another thought seemed to occur to him. He removed his arm from Oikawa’s shoulder and started fiddling with his hands in his lap. “There’s…something I need to tell you, though.”
“What is it?” Oikawa asked, tilting his head. A part of him was still just giddy to have made amends with Hanamaki, so he was surprised the other wanted to divulge a secret to him so soon after their reconciliation.
“I, uh… You know what? Just…here.”
Rather than explain, Hanamaki dug his wallet out of his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. Oikawa regarded him for a moment before slowly taking it, willing his fingers not to shake as he unfolded it. He had no idea what to expect, but the tightness in his chest was already convinced it couldn’t be good news by the way Hanamaki wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore. That feeling was only proved right as Oikawa took in the details on the pathology report in front of him. He sucked in a sharp breath when he read the diagnosis, his head snapping to the side to stare at Hanamaki.
“You…?”
“Yeah…but—they’ve been prescribing me medication and I’ve felt fine, so it’s not that ser—”
Oikawa didn’t let him finish, instead returning the hug from earlier tenfold. He squeezed Hanamaki like his life depended on it, and in that moment, that didn’t feel like an exaggeration. His fists clenched in Hanamaki’s shirt as he fought off even more tears. How could this happen without his ever realizing it? Why would Hanamaki keep it hidden for so long? Who—
His eyes widened and he reeled back, holding Hanamaki by his shoulders while he searched the other’s eyes.
“...Who?” he asked, even though the answer already fluttered tauntingly in the back of his mind, just waiting to be reaffirmed. Hanamaki stared at him for a moment, as if searching for the right way to say it, but the words never came. Understanding settled between them, a soft “oh” slipping through Oikawa’s lips as he brought his hand to rest on Hanamaki’s cheek. Hanamaki closed his eyes at first, taking in a deep, unsteady breath, then softly placed his hand over Oikawa’s to lower it.
“If this works,” he began, gripping Oikawa’s hand and looking into his eyes with renewed vigor, “I won’t have to hide it from him anymore.”
Oikawa felt his heart swell. The thought that so much more good could come of all this than he initially realized was a monumental relief. The end result would still undoubtedly be hard to bear, but knowing that both of his friends could still be happy after all was said and done would make it all worth it. He no longer felt that his motivation was entirely selfish or single-minded. He was sure that, at the end of the day, he could rest easy knowing he had made the right choice.
He could breathe a little easier.
“Hey, Oikawa?” The alpha hummed in acknowledgement, returning his hand to his lap as he looked at Hanamaki, who now regarded him with a curious and somewhat uneasy expression. “...Who was that omega in your apartment when I stopped by last night?”
Oikawa pursed his lips and swallowed, gaze falling to his lap as his fingers started to pick at the hem of his shirt. He should have expected that question, had been dreading it ever since he agreed to meet Hanamaki to talk, but it had managed to slip his mind in the turmoil of their conversation. He softly cleared his throat.
“That…uh,” he began, worrying at his lip. Was it safe to tell the truth? The whole truth? A partial truth? He had only just made amends with Hanamaki; did he really want to undermine all that progress with a lie by omission? Did it even really matter? “...Her name is Alisa. I met her when I went to interview for that news channel a bit ago.” He caught Hanamaki’s eyebrows quickly rise and fall beside him.
“A model?”
“Lead vocalist in a band, actually,” he corrected. Hanamaki whistled, a weary smile tugging at his lips as if he weren’t sure whether to congratulate Oikawa or scold him.
“Sounds like a catch. So, you’re courting her?” Oikawa’s eyes grew comically wide as his head snapped up and he started to sputter like an old, neglected car engine.
“Wh-wha— I— No, of course not! I mean, we only just started seeing—”
Hanamaki’s laugh cut him off, a firm hand slapping against his back and sliding around to grip his shoulder. Oikawa reluctantly let slip a pout as the beta snickered at him.
“Dude, it was a joke. I’ve never seen you seriously court someone the entire time I’ve known you,” he assured. “Hell would freeze over before you give it all up for an omega you just met.” Oikawa decided not to question the choice of words. “She was stunning, though. Polite, too. She fun?” Oikawa considered that for a moment.
“...Yeah,” he settled with a nod to himself.
“She make you laugh?”
“...Yeah,” he said again, more confident. Hanamaki grinned at him.
“Then don’t blow it. Even if it’s not serious, let her down easy. If I didn’t have my heart set on someone else, I’d have half a mind to steal her from you.” Hanamaki waggled his eyebrows at him, making Oikawa snort and nudge him off with his shoulder.
“Like you could,” he said, reaching for his drink on the table to lift it to his lips. “I’m stronger, smarter, better looking, certainly a better fu—”
“You wanna bet money on that?” Hanamaki cut him off at this last, arching a brow and leaning his elbow on the table. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“And I’d like to keep it that way,” Oikawa said, earning a chuckle. They both nursed their drinks in silence for all of ten seconds before Hanamaki paused, then slowly lowered his glass to the table again.
“Hey…you said you met Alisa at the interview, right?” he asked, glancing over at the alpha from the side. “The one where they put your Instagram photos on blast?” Oikawa blinked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Well… I mean, that was after my court hearing. After Matsu caught you on the phone with…someone.”
Oikawa felt the blood drain from his face, his fingers suddenly cold as he withdrew them back to his lap and cast aside his gaze. Dammit, I shouldn’t have said that. I should have said I met her at the studio. I shouldn’t have said anything at all.
“Um…yeah,” he said, offering nothing in the way of an alternative explanation. He felt Hanamaki lean closer, invading his space. His heart thudded against his chest.
“...So there’s someone else?”
“—What? No. Why would there be—”
“Oikawa.” The sound of his name in that don’t-fuck-with-me tone of voice made him cringe. “If you weren’t talking to Alisa that day, who were you talking to?”
He could lie. He could just say that he faked the call. He could say that he was just desperate to give Matsukawa a reason to start loathing him, which he was, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth. Hanamaki was his friend. They had just come to a mutual understanding with each other, smoothing out the resentment that had started to build. He didn’t want to risk ruining that again so soon. He took a deep breath and let it out with a heavy sigh.
Here goes nothing.
“...I—” He bit down on his lip, as if his body were begging him not to tell the truth. He pressed onward. “I…was trying to use it as an opportunity to make Matsukawa hate me. Or start to, at least. But…I didn’t think that any beta or omega would have the same…impact.”
“...The same impact? As what?” Hanamaki urged. Oikawa closed his eyes.
“I have a fake boyfriend,” he said finally, continuing before he could talk himself out of the confession. “He’s the one I was with in all those photos from the interview. And…he’s an alpha.”
Oikawa held his breath. The final word clawed its way out of him without mercy, leaving his chest and throat itchy with regret. Gods, he wished Hanamaki weren’t so perceptive sometimes. Maybe he could have had time to come up with a different plan, call off this whole charade with Iwaizumi, maybe convince Alisa to take his place instead—but he knew himself well enough to understand that he wouldn’t have done that even if he were given the opportunity. Like he said, it wouldn’t have had the same impact.
“An alpha,” Hanamaki repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue. Oikawa cracked open his eyes to glance at him, wary. “Your fake boyfriend is an alpha.” It wasn’t a question, but Oikawa nodded anyway, slow and apprehensive. Hanamaki stared at him a while longer before giving a quiet hum of consideration and lifting his drink again to swallow it down. Oikawa blinked.
“...Wh— Is that it? ‘Hm’? Aren’t you upset? Disgusted?”
Hanamaki lowered his glass, empty now, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then quietly belching into it.
“Why would I be?” he challenged. “You said so yourself. It packs a hell of a punch.” Oikawa squinted.
“...So you think it’s a good idea.”
“Oh, fuck no. I think it’s a terrible idea. You’re going to completely break Matsu when he finds out,” the beta concluded, still not looking at him. “But that’s the point, isn’t it?”
Yes, it was. That was the whole point of all of this. That was why Oikawa convinced himself to do any of this in the first place. He never would have considered dating an alpha otherwise. He didn’t swing that way. If he did, maybe he could have—
“I kissed him,” he blurted then, startled by his own words. They seemed to have startled Hanamaki, too, judging by the way his eyes snapped up to stare at Oikawa like he’d seen a ghost. Against his better judgement, against his avid desire to stop talking, he continued. “Or he kissed me. I don’t really remember. We were alone. There wasn’t even anyone around to start a rumour.”
“You—”
“Twice.”
“ Twice?! ” Hanamaki all but screeched. Oikawa scrunched his eyes shut again. Speaking the words aloud were like finding out about it for the first time. I’m a horrible person. “You—! But you—”
“I know, I know,” Oikawa half-wailed, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know why it happened. I don’t— I don’t like alphas like that. I don’t. But I let it happen—”
“ Twice. ”
“ Twice, ” he agreed, reluctantly, “and I feel awful. I feel awful about it, Makki, I do. But…”
A pause.
“...But?”
“...I think I liked it.” He all but whispered the words, muffled behind his fingers, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet Hanamaki’s eyes. He could feel the judgemental holes being bored into his skull already. They sat in silence for what felt like years, each second that ticked by another weight on his back that made him want to sink into the floor and never resurface. By the time Hanamaki spoke again, the silence was so thick that his quiet rasp of disbelief made Oikawa jump.
“You’re a piece of shit.”
“...I know.”
“I mean, really, just complete garbage.”
“I know—”
“Why not Matsu then?” Hanamaki was staring down at the table now, unblinking and unfocused, when Oikawa peeked through his fingers to look at him. “He’s your best friend.”
“ Exactly, ” Oikawa sighed, shoulders slumping. “I do love him, so much, but not—” There was no need to clarify. “...He’s my best friend. ”
Understanding flashed in Hanamaki’s eyes when they flickered up to meet his, reluctant though it may be. Matsukawa was his best friend , and only that. Maybe Oikawa could have learned to love him as more than that, with time, but that was time they didn’t have. Trying to pretend until it became something real would have only hurt Matsukawa more. Maybe if Matsukawa had told him sooner. If only they had more time.
But it was useless to wish for impossible things. It was useless to tell himself that he was willing to give up the potential for a true, natural romance to save the life of his friend when he knew it would have never worked anyway. He would have grown dissatisfied, bitter, resentful at having had his hand forced by none other than himself, and any possibility of a romantic love would have vanished entirely. It was useless. All he could do now was whatever it took to make Matsukawa hate him and, in the process, replace that lost love with another, if fate allowed.
Then again, Oikawa wasn’t too sure he believed in fate all that much. What a terrible, cruel concept, fate. He much preferred to think that he still had power over how he lived his life and affected others. Everything he hoped to do hinged on it.
“Do you like him?” Hanamaki wasn’t looking at him again, preferring to gaze deeply into the empty glass in his hand.
“...What?”
“The alpha, do you like him?”
Oikawa would be lying if he said he even knew where to begin trying to answer that. He involuntarily recalled Hanamaki’s words from earlier.
Is he fun?
Yes.
Does he make you laugh?
Yes.
But there was more to it than that. By those standards, yes, he liked Iwaizumi, as much as he liked Alisa despite barely knowing either of them. Well, maybe he knew a bit more about Iwaizumi.
He knew perhaps Iwaizumi’s most guarded secret about his proclivities for the same rank. He knew about Iwaizumi’s hidden passion for shogi and how his proficiency in the game spoke volumes about the intellect underneath all that brawn. He knew how much Iwaizumi cared about his roommates, his heart so much bigger than himself despite his rough exterior. He knew that Iwaizumi used to play volleyball just like himself, and that the mere thought of going up against him in a match made his skin run hot and his palms itch for that long forgotten sting of synthetic leather.
It was odd. Up until now, he had only ever thought of Iwaizumi as a stranger. A pair of stormy eyes he met on a stormy day, lending his umbrella in an act of simple kindness, and an even greater act of kindness by agreeing to help Oikawa deceive his pining best friend. A battered, convenient stranger he took back to his apartment after an eventful night out at the movies and shared not one, but two spontaneous kisses he still wasn’t sure what to make of. A stranger he felt like he knew from another life, who had stumbled into his life now as if he were always meant to be there. A familiar stranger.
But he couldn’t quite say that now, could he?
“I think—” he began, his mouth moving before he really knew what he wanted to say, “I could like him…a little. Maybe. I don’t know.” He groaned, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. “I don’t know, Makki. I’m still… I still don’t know what to make of it all.”
“Well you better figure it out soon,” Hanamaki said without missing a beat, moving to stand up. Oikawa lowered his hand and looked up at him curiously. “We have a lot more shit to work out besides your hypocritical sexuality crisis.”
“What—”
“We’re on a clock, remember?” The beta looked down at him, his expression unreadable. Oikawa pursed his lips. “First we have to make Matsu hate your guts. Shouldn’t be too difficult, all things considered.” He started walking toward the door of the room. “Then…”
He paused, lingering with his fingers resting on the edge of the sliding door. He turned his head slightly as if to look back at Oikawa over his shoulder, but stopped short. The rest was left unspoken.
“...We’ll talk soon,” he settled. Hanamaki nodded, the bare movement more than enough to convey his gratitude for allowing him to bear his own burdens.
“...Yeah.”
He left, and Oikawa wondered what challenges awaited them.
══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══
The process of breaking a bond was more of an ordeal than Midori had initially anticipated. She knew it would be long and arduous, but she didn’t expect half the painstaking details she had read about in the informed consent form she had reviewed with Yachi after their consultation with Professor Tsukishima. Yachi hadn’t been required to sign it until after she had had time to review the contents thoroughly, but she didn’t hesitate afterward. Now she was off at the hospital for her psychological evaluation and would be staying overnight for observation and blood work in the morning.
She had asked Midori to fetch some things from her apartment, namely her laptop, a couple of books, and a handful of prescription medication. Heat suppressants, hormone supplements, anxiety medication. Yachi didn’t offer any details on any of it, only making the request that Midori couldn’t refuse. She was sure the hospital was more than capable of providing any necessary medication throughout the procedure, but Midori could understand the reluctance to add any more items to what was sure to be a hefty bill by the end of it all.
Not that Midori didn’t have every intention of petitioning for the government to waive all costs on account of Yachi’s…predicament. If anything, the girl deserved financial compensation for all of the trauma she had been put through at the hands of Hagimura Souta. If Midori had anything to say about it, she would be going after that on Yachi’s behalf, as well.
It wasn’t that Midori had any obligation to the omega. She had already taken Hanamaki’s case pro-bono and had gone above and beyond what any other lawyer would bother to do for a witness of an already acquitted client. She had no personal stake in Yachi’s well-being from now on. Even so, she felt compelled to keep an eye on her, lend a hand in any way she could. Call it omegan solidarity or whatever else have you. It made no difference to her. In some ways, one could almost view her actions as moth—
Midori gently rested a hand over her stomach as she ascended the stairs to Yachi’s apartment. No, this wasn’t anything like that. She knew motherhood, had a child of her own already, and no desire for another right now. Of course, that was largely due in part to a section of her past she pretended not to struggle with, filed away in the chambers of her mind where neither she nor anyone else could disturb the dust that had settled over it. No, this wasn’t the call of motherly instinct. This was just…being friendly. And just that.
She reached Yachi’s door then, fishing out the spare key she was given to unlock it and step inside. It was still just as she remembered it from the first time she came here, like a depression in the building itself, as if the walls sagged and the floor barely noticed her weight. It reminded her of a crypt.
She located the requested items as quickly as she could, Yachi having given her a vague approximation of where they would be. This place was still barely lived in, no hints of its resident but for the scattered bags and scarce necessities. A runaway’s temporary hideout at best. It didn’t take her long to gather everything in the nondescript bag she brought to carry it all, so she turned to leave. However, her feet glued themselves to the floor and refused to take another step when the thundering approach of someone out in the hall reached her ears. Her eyes were drawn to the sliver of a shadow beneath the door just before a powerful, urgent banging made her heart leap clear out of her chest.
Could that be—? No, impossible. Hagimura was locked up. Even his contacts and partners in crime wouldn’t be stupid enough to show up here after the head of their despicable operations got caught. What was there here for them, anyway, except a lone omega who surely only held worth in the predatory eyes of Hagimura himself? There was no reason for—
“Yachi? Yachi?! Please, if you’re here, let me in. Please, Yachi, it’s me. It’s Miwa.”
Miwa?
Why did that name sound so familiar? Midori scrunched her eyebrows, taking a tentative step forward. She wanted to get close enough to look out the peep hole in the door. Unfortunately, that single step was her downfall, releasing a high-pitched creak that gave her away without mercy. The pounding on the door stopped, then Midori had only a split second to see the doorknob twist before the light from the hallway spilled into the pitiful room.
Midori braced herself. For what, she had no idea, but she braced herself nonetheless, raising her arms in a defensive stance. Once her eyes adjusted to the too-bright fluorescent lighting and could make out the details of the silhouette standing in the door now, she felt her blood run cold and the fear for her own safety was instantaneously replaced by pure terror.
She knew that name sounded oddly familiar.
Kageyama Miwa.