The last time Akihito had been this nervous around Mirai Kuriyama was that week she had stalked him through the halls in order to get close enough to run him through with her blood blade. Of course, he figured that having her reject his confession would be as painful a stab through the heart as it was with her sword. He'd live, no matter the outcome. After all, he was immortal.
He was slightly more concerned that their friendship wouldn't recover as seamlessly but no matter how much he valued Kuriyama-san as a friend, he honestly didn't know how much longer he could go before the torture of having her so close fried his brain completely and he did something stupid without an explanation.
Like grabbing her. And kissing her. Fervently.
At least if he told her how he felt, she would know. He thought they both deserved that.
Which found him on this horribly hot Friday morning, his hair curling more than usual in the humidity, and he purposely left his shirt untucked, the first button at his throat open, the tie loosened so that it hung pathetically against his chest. The shower he'd taken that morning was clearly a waste of time; sweat had already perspired at his hairline and he knew that with his nerves already edgy, today had the potential to be absolutely miserable or absolutely exhilarating.
When he walked into the school, he made for his classroom, taking the long way as he cruised down the halls toward the first-years wing. It was normal routine for him, but his stomach was full of butterflies nonetheless. She was easy to spot in the throng of students who conversed with their friends in the halls before classes. Not because she was usually standing off to the side by herself - though that was something - but because she was Mirai, and the aura she carried with her was like a siren to him.
"Ohayou, Kuriyama-san," Akihito said brightly with a smile as he approached.
Her tired gaze swept up to meet him and behind the dazzling, perfect pair of glasses perched on her up-turned nose, purple bags sagged under her honey-colored eyes. It must have been a long night of youmu hunting. He hid his mirth at the lazy death glare she seemed persistent on wearing.
"I'm tired and it's hot," she grumbled, her hands fidgeting absently with the hem of her skirt. "This is unpleasant."
His eyes flashed with amusement and the longer he stood here beside her, the less nervous he felt. Things were just easy with her. "Long night, huh? You look relatively unscathed."
She sighed loudly, clearly noting that she was entertaining him. It made her already sour mood darken; she was not trying to be funny. Maybe if she showed him that ugly scratch she got last night he wouldn't be so amused. He always was fiercely sober when it came to her injuries. "Relatively," she snorted, hiking up the edge of her skirt to show the bandage that wrapped around her upper thigh.
Too late, she realized how inappropriate her actions were and felt her bitterness become engulfed in embarrassment. Suppressing a squeak, she tugged the article of clothing down abruptly and quickly looked up to gauge Akihito's expression. Her blush went from cotton candy-colored to watermelon when she saw the strange look in his eye. A shiver of heat ran down her spine.
He could feel the warmth of her blush across the space between them but that might have had something to do with how hot it was inside the school, or even the fact that his skin was suddenly flushed with a pinkish hue. His mind was sluggish as he looked up from the end of her skirt, eyes fixated on her wide-eyed gaze. Absentmindedly, he licked his lips.
"S-s-sorry," she stammered, mentally berating herself. This is what happens when she doesn't get enough sleep! Was she light-headed because of his unwavering stare or because she was still anemic? She wasn't sure, though the fact that the first idea had even surfaced in her head only made her feel dizzier. Why did he have to look at her like she was the only person in the world?
