Akihito wasn't sure when he'd realized that Mirai was more than just a friend to him. Even becoming her friend had been a transition that he hadn't expected, hadn't even sensed, until she was standing there in front of him with a shaky determination on her face.
"I tried to stop being a Spirit World warrior and defeating youmu!" she'd yelled at him, eyes penetrating him with a decidedly heated resolve. She'd curled in on herself and cast her fiery gaze to the ground, suddenly looking so terribly alone that he couldn't hide the softening look of understanding on his own face. "But this cursed blood. . ."
He often wondered if she had meant for him to hear that part, her voice had been so low, but she looked unbearably small and unsure of herself standing there, swallowed by her pink sweater, that Akihito couldn't help but offer comfort. "I'm the same way," he'd said tenderly, giving a gentle smile when she looked up in surprise.
That's when the first epiphany hit; not because he could relate to her, but because relating to her created within him a fierce desire to protect her from any of the same situations he had lived through. He wanted to be her friend; she'd been on the roof of the school ready to commit suicide only a week beforehand. She needed someone and he was compelled to be that person. Being regarded as a monster was not easy or fun and he knew that better than anyone; just because he had a side of him that he had virtually no control over did not mean his human side was immune to the suspicious way all of his acquaintances treated him with.
He couldn't even fully trust Mitsuki or her older brother, as the only friendliness they ever showed him were pranks and relentless teasing. Those friendships were built on eggshells; he knew that a majority of the Spirit World warriors kept Akihito on their radar because he posed a very real threat. The Nase siblings formed a testy relationship with him out of obligation and he had conceded, partly because he was lonely and partly because he wanted to show them that he had no qualms with cooperating.
And so, becoming Mirai's friend would not only curb her loneliness, but also satiate his starving need for true companionship. What a stroke of luck, to meet a girl who he could understand, who had the potential to understand him. He knew he had to keep her close and so he insisted that she join the Literary Club; Mitsuki didn't seem to have any aversions to Kuriyama-san (as exhibited at a later date) and it would be a relief to have someone around who wasn't there for the mere job of watching him.
The second epiphany hit only some weeks later. It hadn't taken long for Akihito to understand that, no, it was not normal to have those kinds of dreams about your friends and, yes, the strong impulse to kiss them at the most inappropriate times was a taboo. He didn't used to be so anxious when Mirai sat close enough to him in the cafeteria that he could feel the heat coming off of her stocking-clothed legs, burning through his uniform slacks and into him. Her lips were now often times more fascinating to him than her precious glasses and he wasn't sure how that happened.
He'd endured this nerve-wracking torture for a near month before he decided that he had to do something about it. After all, he was pretty sure that those lingering looks Kuriyama-san gave him were a little warmer than they used to be and while her vehement declarations that he was absolutely unpleasant were still regularly announced, she was a lot jumpier than usual lately. Fidgeting with her glasses, straightening her skirt, tugging absently at the ribbon of her uniform. Last week, Mitsuki had asked in a loudly curious voice why Mirai was wearing mascara. There'd been a lot of blushing and incoherent stammering before she bolted from the room, leaving just Akihito and the Nase girl alone.
He thought something had looked different about his friend that day. She was wearing makeup?
Mitsuki had taken a seat across from him and raised a delicate eyebrow. "I'm surprised a pervert like you hasn't figured it out yet," she said in her usual drawl. Unwrapping a piece of hard candy, she pressed it to her lips and popped it into her mouth in the sensual manner that she accomplished with everything else.
"I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean," Akihito had supplied suspiciously, pushing away from the table and standing up and gathering his things together.
"Leaving already?" she'd asked archly.
He rolled his eyes for good measure. "Someone ought to make sure she doesn't klutz out on the stairs or at the train station." He hadn't been sure when he decided to walk Mirai to the station but let the words flow naturally anyway. They'd always spent a lot of time together; she was, intrinsically, his best friend. Of course it was perfectly acceptable for him to walk her half way home.
"Then you'd better hurry," Mitsuki replied flatly. "The chance she already tripped over something with the way she flew out of the room is higher than normal."
He had nodded and slung his bag over his shoulder before hurrying out, the sleeves of his shirt rolled to his elbows. Once alone in the room, Mitsuki had merely sighed about how much of an idiot he was and went to work on an article for the Literary Club.
Akihito had ended up riding the train with Kuriyama-san, and even walked her to her door. The bespectacled beauty had been confused about the escort but she didn't complain aside from the stuttered "A-are you sure, Senpai?" to which he had reassured her that, yeah, he wanted to walk her home.
The evening had been warm; Akihito's uniform was reduced to a simple white button up with his tie loosened and Mirai was sporting her own short-sleeved version of her school clothes, sans her signature pink sweater. He couldn't have been sure if the electricity he felt walking near her was because of her or because of the humidity in the air. Maybe it'd been a little of both.
If he hadn't felt that electricity, if she hadn't looked up at him under those long eyelashes over the tops of her red-rimmed glasses, if the wind hadn't tousled her hair just so, if she hadn't grabbed his arm so suddenly after tripping over a raised crack in the sidewalk. . .maybe he wouldn't feel this way. He almost certainly wouldn't be distracted by the gloss of her lips when she talked, or the cherry-blossom color on her perfectly shaped face.
But the fact of the matter was that those things did happen, prompting him to stand much closer than normal while bidding his farewell at her door. Her face had always been so easy to read and it was clear to him that she was astonished by the proximity, but the flush on her cheeks suggested she didn't mind too much.
He wanted to kiss her, but he refrained from that. If he was going to kiss her, he was going to make sure it was the right moment before that happened.
So instead, he'd reached up and gingerly, slowly, swept her bangs back from her eyes before letting his fingertips trail down the side of her face. Her golden eyes became the size of saucers and the breath seized in his chest.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he'd said gently after a moment of collecting himself. "Be careful hunting that youmu tonight, alright?"
She smiled at him through the bright pink color of her surprise. "Of - of course, S-senpai!"
"Treat your spectacles with extra care."
"Stop being unpleasant."
He flashed a smile at her and then watched as she edged away from him. It'd taken her a moment to get her key into the lock with her hands trembling ever so slightly, but he waited until she was safely inside with the door shut behind her before he made his way back to the train station so that he could head on home himself.
That night, he'd made his resolve and today, Akihito was going to carry it out. There was no doubt about it; he was terribly anxious, sickened by the possibility that she would turn his confession down but he held tight onto why it had to be done.
He always had wanted to kiss a girl in glasses, after all.
