Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

There was a witch next door.

Seijuurou didn’t know he was a witch, at first. One wouldn’t expect witches to even exist, really. He supposed this was a direct result of centuries of a carefully hidden away identity.

But the witch next door was kind of horrible at secrets. Or lying, really.

Before Seijuurou had known that the man next door—Furihata Kouki—was, essentially, a mythical creature, the man in question had come home once, late in the night and drunk out of his mind. He knew, because he had seen Furihata dance on the driveway and sing horrible renditions of a very annoying jingle.  

In the morning, Seijuurou’s peonies, the ones he was quite proud of and displayed prominently on the front lawn, had been crushed.

Seijuurou collected himself, and knocked on the door in the least threatening manner he could muster up at that moment.

The door opened partway, and a Furihata with dark circles under his eyes and messy hair and a stained white t-shirt peeked out groggily. “Yes?”

It was dark inside his home.

“Hello, Furihata-kun,” Seijuurou said, hands folded behind him.

Furihata squinted at Seijuurou. “Yes?” he repeated. He seemed very out of it.

Seijuurou’s blood was sizzling.

“My peonies.”

“Mm.”

“They’re ruined.”

“Hmm.”

“You did it.”

“Mhm…”

Seijuurou narrowed his eyes. “Furihata-kun, I know you are terribly hungover, but my peonies have been crushed by you and I want some compensation.”

Finally, Seijuurou got a reaction out of him. “Oh fuck.”

Seijuurou nodded, pleased. That was the appropriate response to—oh fuck.

And Furihata vomited all over Seijuurou’s very expensive shoes.

Seijuurou decided to leave without another word. He’d deal with the peonies another day.

Beyond that, they did not have many real encounters. Seijuurou always left early in the day, and came home late at night.

He did not know when Furihata came and went. He wasn’t sure whether he even left his home. He was, however, pretty sure the pizza delivery boy came to Furihata’s house on instinct at this point, not even waiting for Furihata to call.

One day, on one of Seijuurou’s precious days off, there was a loud explosion from outside.

Panicked, Seijuurou looked outside his living room window. He did not see anything.

He decided to step out.

He still did not see anything.

Well, that was until Furihata came stumbling out of his house, looking like something had blown up in his face. The tips of his hair were singed.

“Furihata-kun, are you alright?” Seijuurou asked, worried, jogging over to the man who seemed to be trying to cough a lung out. It was basic human nature to help another in need, even if said person in need had never really repaid him from crushing his precious peonies.

Furihata gagged for a minute, and Seijuurou thumped on his back a few times. Furihata proceeded to fall over.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Seijuurou asked.

Furihata shook his head. “Water, please,” he croaked out.

Seijuurou left Furihata on his lawn and went to retrieve a bottle of refrigerated water.

Furihata drank very desperately.

After a few minutes, Furihata gave Seijuurou a smile. “Thank you, Akashi,” he said, voice still hoarse.

“What happened?”

Furihata eyes widened in fear. “Uh, n-nothing. It’s fine. I… I put aluminum foil in the microwave. Stupid, I know.”

And while Seijuurou wouldn’t put it past Furihata to actually do such a thing, given his previous track record, something told Seijuurou that the man with soot all over his face was lying.

It was probably the way he suddenly started sweating.

Wordlessly, Seijuurou got up and began to march towards Furihata’s door.

“N-no!” Furihata yelped, jumping up and trying to make a grab for Seijuurou. He was still a bit unsteady on his feet, and ended up with his arms around his waist, legs trailing behind him as Seijuurou continued forward.

His years of playing basketball religiously had paid off.

“Nooo, Akashi, don’t worry! I won’t do it again!” Furihata whined, much like a child. He appeared to be trying to regain his footing without letting go of Seijuurou, and it resulted in a lot of pushing. To Furihata’s credit, Seijuurou did stumble once.

Finally reaching the threshold, Seijuurou stuck his head inside the darkened house. It smelled like… hmm. He took a sniff. Something burnt. Something like… plants?

Seijuurou whipped his head to face Furihata, a serious look on his face. Furihata was nervous, holding his breath, eyes squeezed shut.

“Are you growing marijuana?” Seijuurou asked.

Furihata cracked an eye open. “Eh?”

“I said, are you growing marijuana in your house?” Seijuurou repeated, feeling angrier by the second. Of all the irresponsible things, Seijuurou would have never taken Furihata to be a drug addict. Or a drug dealer. Or both.

Furihata stood up immediately, grinning his brightest grin. “Yes!”

“Why are you so happy? I’m about to report you. There are kids in this neighbourhood, Furihata-kun.”

Furihata instantly forced his mouth into a frown. “Oh, no.”

Seijuurou raised a brow.

Furihata blinked, and covered his mouth with his hand. “Please don’t call the police, Akashi. I will throw it all out immediately.”

“I can tell you’re smiling,” Seijuurou deadpanned, and Furihata removed his hand to prove that yes, Furihata was still grinning.

Maybe he was a little insane. A call to the hospital would be better.

Seijuurou reached for the phone in his pocket, and Furihata stepped forward and covered his hand with both of his own. This time, he looked solemn, but pleasantly so. It irked Seijuurou, a little. He wasn’t being taken seriously. “Let go.”

“Please, Akashi, I’ll tell you what happened. Don’t call anyone. I know I seem crazy. I’m sorry.”

And that may have been the sanest thing he had heard out of Furihata’s mouth since he had moved into the neighbourhood.

“Fine. Explain.”

Furihata removed his hands and smiled, a bit more calmly this time. “Do you want some tea?”

“Furihata-kun, something in your house is burning, I don’t think this is the time to be having tea.”

Without a care, Furihata waved a hand. “Don’t worry, it’ll stop eventually.”

“Furihata-kun,” Seijuurou said, in a stern voice. He crossed his arms and gave him a pointed look.

Furihata gulped, then slumped his shoulders. “Fine,” he mumbled, and walked deeper into the house.

Seijuurou followed, naturally.

It was a miracle Furihata did not bump into every little thing in the hallway. Not only was it dark and windowless, there was clutter everywhere. Seijuurou wasn’t sure what he was tripping over, but they were of various shapes and sizes and all very annoying.

“Why don’t you turn on the lights?” Seijuurou asked, after hitting his toe against something very blunt. He gritted his teeth.

Furihata’s outline shrugged. “I don’t like it.”

Seijuurou seethed, quietly.

When they reached the back of the house, Furihata shouldered his way inside a room, pushing against the door to make some more space. The sound of things sliding back rang through the otherwise quiet house. “Come in.”

Seijuurou stepped into the room.

While dim, this room did have a bit of light filtering in from high windows. It allowed Seijuurou to see a cauldron.

A cauldron. With smoke billowing out of it. Faint clouds of the smoke gathered near the ceiling.

Furihata took a stick and tapped one of the windows, pulling it open so that the smoke didn’t fill up the room.

“What is this?” Seijuurou asked, oddly calm. His mind, however, was racing. Was he part of a cult?

He looked around when Furihata didn’t deem the question to be worthy of a response.

There was a desk, with a laptop and speakers. The walls were lined with different herbs and flowers, as well as questionable materials that Seijuurou didn’t particularly want to look further into.

“Is this marijuana?”

Seijuurou didn’t really want to admit that he hadn’t the faintest idea as to what marijuana smelled or even looked like. He knew it was green. And that it was smoked. And both green things, and one smokey thing were present in the room. However, Seijuurou sincerely doubted that marijuana was made in a giant pot. Or perhaps Furihata was doing it in his own unconventional way.

One never knew, when it came to these things.

“… Yes?” Furihata said, looking away. He moved to a sink tucked away in the corner of the room and grabbed a bucket, filling it with water. “Sorry for the mess.”

“Well, you did just blow something up, I’d assume that there would be a mess.”

“R-right…”

Once the bucket was filled, Furihata walked back to the cauldron and dumped the water inside. There was a bubbling sound. Furihata winced, and stuck his face dangerously over the liquid. “Oh, that doesn’t look good.”

Seijuurou hastily ran over and grabbed Furihata’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Have you never taken a science course? You should never put your face directly over something that looks as volatile as… whatever that is.”

Was marijuana usually a blue looking slime that bubbled?

“What the hell is this,” Seijuurou stated, rather than asked, because he had moved past the point of confusion and incredulousness and stepped into the realm of ‘nothing at this point could catch me off guard because I have probably seen it all’. 

“Weed…?” Furihata said, weakly. He gave Seijuurou a hopeful smile.

“Stop.”

“Okay, f-fine, it’s a potion. I’m just really bad at potion-making, okay? I can’t even cook. But it’s my most requested item, right after that stupid love spell. And I’m just so sick of potion-making. So I got mad and threw in like two pounds of leafy seadragon eggs, which was stupid on my part because those little fuckers cost a fortune. But it wasn’t working. And then it exploded.”

Furihata was panting by the end of his little confession.

Seijuurou massaged his forehead with his fingers. “Please, please just give me one straightforward answer. No more lies. Please.”

“Wha--,” Furihata began, and cut himself off, gaping. “I just told you my greatest secret. The secret of a century, Akashi! And for you to disregard it so completely--,” Furihata paused to pout theatrically at him. “It’s mean.”

“You also told me you were making marijuana,” Seijuurou reminded him, pointedly.

Furihata rolled his eyes. “Aw, c’mon Akashi, even I knew you could see through my lies. I was just waiting to see how far you’d take it.”

He did not like interacting with Furihata, Seijuurou decided. He was unpredictable, in the plainest of ways. He did not seem the unpredictable type, and Seijuurou believed that he probably wasn’t, not at his very core. But his interactions with him just left him feeling frustrated. Like a pet he couldn’t train.

“Tell me the tru—”

“Potions!”

“THE TRU—”

“POTIONS, AKASHI.”

“Why are you doing this to me,” Seijuurou asked, in his most even tone.

Furihata smiled. “I didn’t invite you into my house, Akashi.”

That… that was true. But he didn’t like it. Seijuurou looked away, knowing he was being petulant. “Well I’m here now.”

There was a sigh from Furihata. But then he stepped out of the room and waved at Seijuurou to follow. “We should have tea.”

-x-x-x-

Once the tea was sitting in front of him, and so was Furihata, in his tiny kitchen, Seijuurou nodded at Furihata. “Okay, the truth now.”

“Listen, I was going to make some bullshit up about science experiments, but since I’ve already blurted everything out, I might as well just tell you.”

Seijuurou sipped his tea. “So what you were saying before wasn’t also bullshit?”

He thought he saw Furihata’s eye twitch. “Okay, fine. All this is just one giant bullshit social experiment on the life of a recluse and odd habits they could potentially pick up and the effect it has on those around them.”

“Hmm,” Seijuurou said, mostly to look thoughtful. He really didn’t know what to make of the situation. But he did need to say something. “Fine. Say I believed you. That you make potions and other things like that. What proof do you have?”

Furihata’s eyes lit up, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped around on the screen a few times before laying it down on the table and sliding it towards him. “Here.”

The screen showed a website with a header that read, “The Witch’s Brew” in a basic font. Underneath, it was captioned, “Wholesome Spells and Potions to Ease Your Troubles Away”.

Seijuurou looked up to raise a brow at Furihata. Furihata smiled bashfully, glancing away and rubbing the back of his neck. “Aha… I, um, I’m not good with titles and captions and stuff.”

He did not comment. Instead, he scrolled further down to appraise the rest of the site. It wasn’t anything flashy. There were pictures of dainty little bottles with questionable liquids in them, labelled with things like, “Luck for a Day”, “Protection from Curses Cast by Angry In-Laws”, and “Face Changer”. The prices were very low as well. Almost… appallingly low.

He clicked onto another section, marked Spells. Things ranging from love spells to spells that made you a genius for a day were listed on the page.

“So… this is your proof? Whose site is this? They obviously have never met a graphic designer before. And the pricing? I hope whoever runs this site wasn’t expecting to make a living off of this. If people buy anything off of this scammer anyway,” Seijuurou critiqued, then looked up to get Furihata’s response, only to be met with wide eyes and a trembling bottom lip.

“Y-you… you think it’s that bad?” Furihata asked, in a small voice.

“Wait, why are you so--,” Then it clicked. He had made a mistake. He felt the urge to try and remedy his harsh words—something he had never really done before. He was not one to apologize for his honesty. But Furihata’s face was making him experience many degrees of pity. “The products themselves seem… nice,” Seijuurou said, gently.

Furihata’s eyes became wet.

“I… like the colour scheme of the site?” he was outright lying now—the colour scheme (a chartreuse orange font and a neon green background) was offensive to his senses.

Furihata buried his face in his hands and exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry, I need a moment.”

He had had no idea that Furihata was so sensitive about these things. He was glad he did not voice his displeasure with the state of his house to Furihata earlier. That would have really set off the waterworks.

Finally, Furihata looked up with a wobbly smile. “S-sorry, it’s just that some people have been saying the same thing to me, but they aren’t generally nice about anything so I just brushed it off. But if a regular human is saying that it needs work then… then it must be true…”

Awkwardly (and completely disregarding the “regular human” part for now), Seijuurou reached over to pat Furihata on the shoulder twice.

Seijuurou may have been an honest, no sugary-words type of person who expected all those around him to perform to the best of their ability at every aspect of life, but he wasn’t mean, either. Sure, he thought Furihata was spewing all sorts of nonsense, but him being pushed to tears was taking precedence over that. And besides, it was his day off. He wasn’t doing anything important. He could spare a few hours for someone he barely tolerated on the best of days.

“Listen… Furihata. If you want, I can help you with the site? I’m not the best at design and whatnot, but I do have some experience in it. And I have performed successfully,” Seijuurou offered.

Furihata grabbed Seijuurou’s hand with both of his and looked at him with the most enlivened expression. “Really? Really, really?”

Seijuurou glanced down at his captured hand, then back up at Furihata. “Ah… yes, I suppose.” Furihata’s hands were warm.

“Thank you!”

-x-x-x-

“Akashi…” Furihata whispered, three-and-a-half hours later. “This… this is beautiful.”

Seijuurou wasn’t the best at titles or captions either, so he left those as they were. But the design of the website was completely revamped, making it look sleeker and more professional. Even better, Seijuurou had been quite proud of the fact that he had given it a sort of mysterious and intriguing feel to it as well, with darker colours and graphics that grew shadows around them when you scrolled over it with your mouse. He had just kept the idea of Halloween in mind the whole time.

Seijuurou couldn’t help feeling smug. He had done well, and he had essentially prevented Furihata from being bullied in the future.

“Well, I’m done here. If it’s fine with you, I’ll be heading back now,” Seijuurou announced, standing up from his place on the office chair. They had gone back to the marijuana room, where his laptop had been. While Seijuurou had worked, Furihata had tidied up and set up equipment for “the next potion”.

Yes, Seijuurou was still wholly skeptical about the idea of Furihata creating potions and casting spells. But it wasn’t his responsibility to snap Furihata out of his delusions. That was the job of his friends and family. He was just a neighbour. A very kind-hearted neighbour.

Furihata got up from his crouched position. “Thank you so much, Akashi, I really appreciate this,” Furihata said, grinning widely and shaking his hand with a vigorous sort of energy. “I’m sure this will really boost my sales.”

“Right…,” Seijuurou replied, not agreeing, nor disagreeing.

When Seijuurou got back home, he seated himself down in the living room on his couch and looked at his hand. As completely unexpected as the day had gone, Seijuurou was more concerned over the fact that his hand was still tingling from the remnants of warmth that Furihata’s hand had left when he had grabbed it. And not in a magic way. At least, he hoped it wasn’t in a magic way.

Because that wasn’t real.

After a second of thought, he sat up straight and reached for the laptop resting on the coffee table in front of him.

Pulling up the browser, he searched up potion making and spell casting in Japan.

There was a surprising amount of how-to articles that Seijuurou immediately skipped over. Scrolling a little further, he spotted an article entitled The Witches of Japan.

He clicked on it.

But upon the page loading, he scoffed. It was an amateur-looking blog made by someone who also seemed to have no ability to coordinate colours and designs.

Since, however, this was the only page available with something vaguely informative, he would have to suffer through the pale yellow font.

The author, someone named Nakamura Shinya, had a great command of words, and that was his redeeming point in Seijuurou’s eyes. He didn’t even mind straining his eyes to read, now.

Welcome back to my blog, the post greeted.

I have not had the time to post as religiously as I did back in my first year of university—I apologize. Schoolwork is very hectic, and my part-time job and basketball practice takes up a good portion of my time as well.

I did not halt my efforts in gathering topics for my Frightening Friday blog posts, however. So here is our first one in a very long time:

Witches.

Witches, for those who may not know, are those who partake in witchcraft. Witchcraft is the practice of spells, production of potions, and communication with spirits.

It seems quite mysterious and alluring, one could say. The dark arts have a certain charm to it; it beguiles those with tortured souls and pulls them in for a lifetime.

Seijuurou paused. Furihata did not seem the type to have a tortured soul. He thought back to Furihata drunkenly singing a jingle at an unholy hour in the morning on his driveway. He seemed okay.

But that is not what this post will centre around, for now. Today, instead, we will focus on ancestral witch lines that possibly exist today.

Specifically, in Japan, there seemed to be a spike of documented witches in the late 1800s (Arakata, et al., 1985). While it is uncertain whether those documented all actually possessed supernatural powers, it can be said that there were a certain few family lines that adamantly claimed to be proud commandeers of witchcraft for as back as history would go.

The documentations had spiked, in part, due to a rising hysteria within the public. Witchcraft was no longer seen as a healing power, as it had been before. While it wasn’t to the extent that the European Witch Hunts went to, many people were put to death for suspected witchcraft.

The more prominent ancestral witch lines had gone into hiding, it seemed, from the late 1800s to around the 1960s (Zakuo and Yoshitaka, 2001).

During the 1960s, spirituality came back in popular culture, and it appeared that it made it safe for some witches to come out of hiding. Of course, their craft was not taken seriously, and I am unsure as to how that boded on the witch community.

As of now, there are a few remaining family lines that were not reported as coming to an end during the witch hysteria, or during the subsequent years after. These same family lines can be found existing today:

• Tanaka
• Ito
• Nakamura
• Sato
• Furihata
• Suzuki
• Ono
• Yamada

Furihata. Seijuurou’s heart started beating a little faster.

This is not an exhaustive list. It can also be said that these family names are all quite common; multiple family lines possess these names. Even I possess one of those names, and unfortunately, I have not found any traces of witchcraft within my own family line.

As such, it is virtually impossible to actually track down witches living today, unless you visited every person with these names. But that does not mean that they are not out there. They could even be next door to you.

Thank you for reading. I will hopefully see you next week, where we will discuss the topic of Mythical Sea Creatures and their possible existence.

Seijuurou pushed the laptop onto the sofa cushion so that he could lean forward and put his head on his knees. He felt a little sick.

The author had written that one may even be living next door to someone. He might have been more right than he could have ever imagined.

-x-x-x-

A week later, at seven in the evening on Saturday, there was a knock on Seijuurou’s door.

Seijuurou had already gotten into his loungewear, and he didn’t think he was very fit to open the door, looking as he did. But when the knocking became more persistent, Seijuurou sighed and went to open it.

On the other side stood Furihata, holding a box and wearing a bright grin.

“Good evening!”

Seijuurou wanted to shut the door. “Good evening,” he muttered.

“U-um!” Furihata stepped from foot to foot for a moment, biting his lip, before thrusting the box towards Seijuurou. “Here! I got this for you.”

Seijuurou peered down at the box. It said Justice Sweets Bakery, in a powerful font. “What is it?”

“Cake,” Furihata answered, and did a bit of maneuvering to balance the box on his forearm and open it up for Seijuurou. “I wasn’t sure which flavours you would’ve liked so I picked a whole bunch. See?”

“And what is this for?” Seijuurou asked, crossing his arms.

Furihata glanced behind him, into the empty street, and to the sides. Then he leaned in and whispered, “Can I tell you inside?”

Now Seijuurou really wanted to shut the door.

Instead, he stepped aside and allowed Furihata to walk in, and stare at the hallway in wide eyed amazement. “Your house is so nice!”

“Thank you.”

Furihata stepped out of his shoes and nudged them into some semblance of order before walking further inside. “Um, where should I put this?” he raised the cakes up.

Wordlessly, Seijuurou swept past him and towards the kitchen. He could hear Furihata’s footsteps following.

Furihata placed the cake box down onto the kitchen table then smiled widely. “This is for your help with the website! My sales boosted by a whole ton! I might even be able to pay some bills now!”

Seijuurou, for lack of a better word, was appalled. “Might?”

“Might what?” Furihata asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Might be able to pay some bills?” Seijuurou questioned, eyes narrowed. “Have you not been able to pay bills?”

“A-ah!” Furihata waved his hands out furiously, face turning red. “N-no, I mean, yes, I have. Sometimes. I, um, I have help. From my cat.”

“From… your cat,” Seijuurou repeated in a monotone. This was ridiculous.

“He’s not just a cat! He’s my friend, and he helps me with bills,” Furihata tried to explain, then lightly smacked his forehead. “He’s not a cat. Sorry. He’s a person. He lives with me sometimes.”

“Your situation,” Seijuurou said, taking a seat, “worries me the more I hear about it.” Seijuurou then remembered the post he had read. “Are you a tortured soul?”

Furihata scrunched his nose. “What?”

“Are you a tortured soul,” Seijuurou enunciated.

Furihata took a seat as well, covering his face with his hands. “Listen, if this is about that emo music that I was playing the other day, I can explain. I didn’t know it was that loud, and it’s actually really catchy if you don’t think about what the lyrics are saying.”

“No, what?” Seijuurou was confused. “I read something that witches are people with tortured souls.”

“Oh, you believe me now?” Furihata was delighted. “But don’t believe that stuff. I mean, maybe there are some tortured souls, I guess, but they’re mostly sad that they got broken up with or something. Nothing too dark. I was born like this, I come from a family of witches.”

“Prove it.”

“That I’m a witch?”

“Yes.”

Awkwardly, Furihata made a motion to pull his phone out again. “I mean… I can show you the site again…”

Seijuurou thumped his hand against the table. “No, do a spell. Do something supernatural. Prove it.”

Furihata shrunk back. “Wh-why should I?” he stammered, but his eyes were defiant.

That was a good question. Furihata had no reason to prove himself to Seijuurou of all people. Seijuurou glanced around, trying to pull an answer out of thin air. Then his eyes landed on it.

“Otherwise I won’t eat your cakes,” Seijuurou said, with finality.

Furihata looked offended, even going as far as to gasp. “You can’t do that. I used some of the rent money on this!”

Seijuurou stared at Furihata. “Wha—”

Furihata cut him off, leaning forward. “Aha, forget I said that. Um, sure. I guess I can do something. What do you want me to do?”

There was definitely something wrong with Furihata, though it wasn’t a supernatural sort of problem. He didn’t know whether to intervene or just keep his nose out of this inevitable mess. For now, however, he would just focus on the present. “Levitate something.”

Furihata smiled. “Okay!” he said, and stared hard at the table before raising one hand, palm up, in a slow motion.

The table shook, lifted the slightest bit, then fell back down.

Seijuurou stared wide-eyed at Furihata.

He blushed. “Listen, I know that wasn’t very impressive, but the table was kinda heavy.”

“It moved!” Seijuurou exclaimed—not in a yell, but not in his normal tone either. He stumbled out of his seat and moved back until he hit the counter. “Shit.”

Furihata furrowed his brows. “Are… are you okay, Akashi?”

Seijuuoru ran his hands through his hair. All that he had ever known to be false… was true. If this was real, then maybe there was no limit to what supernatural horrors the world possessed. “Do…,” Seijuurou whispered. “Do something else. Something more.”

While he still looked a bit worried for Seijuurou’s sake, he shrugged and flicked his wrist at the vase of wilting flowers sitting near the kitchen window. The flowers blossomed back to life in an instant, somehow looking even more vibrant than before.

“Shit,” Seijuurou mumbled. “Shit, shit.”

“A-Akashi…?” he moved to get up but Seijuurou pointed at Furihata abruptly.

“Don’t move.”

“B-but—”

“I don’t know what is going on, but get out. This is too much. You’re not real. This… this bullshit you’re doing is not real. Leave. Now.”

Furihata’s face crumpled. “But, Akashi…”

Seijuurou blindly reached into the cutlery drawer and felt around. Once he felt the handle, he pulled out a kitchen knife. He jabbed it in Furihata’s direction. “Get out!”

Furihata bit his lip, and his eyes watered a little. And then he sprinted out of the house. He heard the door slam behind him.

Holy shit.

Dropping the knife, Seijuurou sank to the floor, burying his fingers in his hair.

He knew he overreacted, he shouldn’t have threatened Furihata. Even worse, Furihata could probably have knocked the knife out of his hand and tossed him across the room if he wanted to. He made the witch next door upset.

Maybe he would come for him.

The thought terrified Seijuurou in an uncharacteristic way. He is not one to fear many things—most things fear him. But Furihata being a witch was an unknown. It was not something that his mind could actually wrap itself around. Not right now at least.

He had doubted Furihata severely in the beginning. Wrote him off as a friendly lunatic.

But he was so wrong.

If Furihata’s abilities were real, what wasn’t real? Were vampires and werewolves real? Giants? Fairies? The fairytales he had heard while growing up—were they real?

Seijuurou was sweating. He was breathing hard. He was stressed.

Carefully, he pulled himself up. His legs wobbled all the way to his bedroom. He allowed himself to collapse onto the covers—the sheets felt cool against his forehead.

And then he fell asleep.

In the morning, he was a little surprised to find himself strewn across the bed as if someone had dumped him there. Sitting up, he massaged his head. It was throbbing a little. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, and got up to get ready to run some errands.

After showering and getting dressed in his casual clothes, Seijuurou headed downstairs for breakfast.

On the floor of the kitchen lay one of Seijuurou’s knives.

His breaths became rapid. Last night came rushing back to him. He tried to calm himself down as he slowly approached the knife, heart beating erratically in his chest. When he reached for it, he noticed his hand was trembling.

Stupid. He was being stupid.

Clearing his throat, he snatched the knife up from the floor and dumped it into the sink.

When he looked up, he saw the flowers.

Seijuurou felt lightheaded.

Somehow, they looked even more brilliant in the morning light that was filtering in through the kitchen window. His house was fairly normal looking, so having flowers that were so vibrant—as if someone had gone on a trip to a fantasy land and picked flowers specially for him from a meadow that deer (talking deer, specifically) pranced through—seemed like they were out of place.

He stumbled to a kitchen chair and fell into it, resting his head against the table, trying to steady himself.

The table.

Seijuurou pushed the chair back, a resounding screech filling the air.

The table didn’t look like it had been touched by magic.

Getting out of the chair, he got onto all fours and scrutinized the legs of the table with narrowed eyes.

“Hmm,” he hummed to himself as he tentatively crawled closer. He reached a hand out poked at the wood. It didn’t tingle or anything. Feeling a bit bolder, he grasped the whole leg and shook it. The table rattled. But not abnormally.

How had he done it?

He shot up and grabbed the edge of the table, lifting it up. It lifted, but not any higher than he was holding it.

Dropping it onto the ground, he turned to the flowers, stalking towards them. With a gentle hand, he brushed his fingertips over one of the leaves. They felt pretty normal. He plucked a petal off of one of the carnations and rubbed it between his fingers. Silky smooth. Almost suspiciously silky smooth.

He tossed the petal behind him and decided to forgo breakfast in favour of answers. He gathered his keys, phone, and wallet and marched outside and towards Furihata’s house.

Seijuurou gave two curt knocks.

“Kuroko, is that you?” a sullen voice called from the inside.

“No,” Seijuurou replied.

The silence from the other side of the door felt like a held breath.

“What do you want?” Furihata finally answered.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Go away.”

Seijuurou scrunched his nose. No one had ever told him to go away before. He didn’t like it. “Open up right now,” he coldly demanded.

“You’re not my mom, Akashi,” Furihata replied, in a very petulant manner. Seijuuoru could feel his patience levels dropping rapidly.

“Excuse me, Akashi-san.”

Seijuurou stiffened. When he turned to face the source of the voice, a blue haired man stared back at him blankly.

“And you are?” Seijuurou asked. He hoped the fact that he had been surprised by this man’s sudden appearance wasn’t being projected onto his face.

“Furihata-kun’s cat,” Kuroko replied, and as he did, the door flew open and a puffy-eyed Furihata rushed past Seijuurou to lunge at Kuroko, pulling him into his arms and dragging him back.

“I told you not to tell people that!”

On Kuroko’s part, he didn’t seem the least bit surprised, and allowed himself to be manhandled into the house with a neutral expression. “It was nice to finally meet you,” Kuroko said politely. And then the door slammed shut.

“Hey, Furihata!” Seijuurou yelled, banging his fist against the door. “I need to talk to you!”

“You told me to get out, so I did! Leave me alone!” Furihata yelled back.

“You owe me answers!”

“You were mean!”

“I—What? Is that why you’re being like this? Because I was mean? Are you a child?” Seijuurou was exasperated.

“He is a little immature,” came Kuroko’s muffled voice. Seijuurou wanted to bang his head against the door.

“I,” Seijuurou used his most controlled voice, “will be back in a few hours. I expect answers.”

“Well you’ll be getting jack shit, so hah!” Furihata shot back.

“Furihata-kun…,” Kuroko softly scolded. “Language.”

“… Sorry.”

Seijuurou decided to just leave. He got into his car, banged the door shut, and blasted Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain before peeling out of the driveway towards the grocery store.

He was fuming.

First of all, he was the victim in this scenario, so why was Furihata acting as if he had been wronged? He hadn’t. He was the one who had given Seijuurou the shock of his life and essentially caused him to pass out. It was rude, in all honesty. You don’t just levitate people’s tables and then leave them with a million questions.

He refused to be left in the dark about this.

-x-x-x-

When he got home, he didn’t even bother to change. He dropped his stuff on the coffee table and readied himself to go back outside.

But then his doorbell rang.

He sighed theatrically. If this was the survey guy again, he was going to burst. This would be the fourth time the boy had come to his door, asking if he would fill out a survey concerning a potential mosquito eradication project. He’d already done it, twice. He didn’t understand why he kept coming back.

However, it seemed he didn’t have to worry much.

When he swung the door open, ready to have some words with the high schooler, there stood Furihata, arms crossed and pouting greatly.

“Hello, Akashi-san.”

Oh. He blinked a few times. Kuroko was there too, standing in front of Furihata. “Hello, Kuroko-san.”

“Furihata-kun told me that he has… revealed a few things to you. I would like to discuss it. May we come in?” Kuroko explained.

Seijuurou raised a brow. That was direct. “Of course,” he said, and stepped aside.

“Come on, Furihata-kun,” Kuroko prodded, and with a sigh, Furihata pushed past Kuroko, kicked his shoes off, and stood in the hallway like a moody teenager.

Kuroko walked in next, slipping his shoes off and arranging both his and Furihata’s into a line. “Thank you, Akashi-san.”

“It’s fine.”

“Can we hurry up?” Furihata complained, and Seijuurou glared at him.

“Furihata-kun, please,” Kuroko sighed.

Seijuurou shut the door and led the way to the living room. “Please sit.”

Kuroko sat down, and Furihata plopped down next to him, arms still crossed. Akashi sat down in the one-seater across from them, putting on a polite smile. “How may I help you?”

“Akashi-san, I apologize for being so blunt, but you look like you want to hurt someone,” Kuroko pointed out. Seijuurou dropped his smile, unamused. “That’s better.”

Now Seijuurou was feeling the same impatience that Furihata obviously was. “What was it that you wanted to discuss?” he prompted.

“Furihata-kun told me that he revealed to you that he was a witch.”

Seijuurou’s breath hitched in his throat. “Yes…”

“First, Furihata-kun would like to say something to you,” Kuroko nudged Furihata with his elbow. “Furihata-kun?”

Furihata sighed, and then mumbled something, looking at the floor.

“Pardon me?” Seijuurou asked, resting his elbow on armrest and leaning forward. He had an inkling as to what Furihata was being forced to say, and he wanted to enjoy every syllable of it.

He supposed Furihata caught onto his feelings, because he glowered at Seijuurou and then said, “I apologize for answering your questions, Akashi, I didn’t know you were so faint of heart.”

The nerve of this guy was amazing. But Seijuurou would not stoop to his level.

“Why thank you, Furihata,” Seijuurou said, giving him a lofty smile. “I appreciate you apologizing to me for destroying my entire perception of the world and its inhabitants.”

“That’s what I would like to speak to you about as well,” Kuroko cut in, when it looked like Furihata was about to toss back a snarky response. “I understand it must have been a shock. It is for this reason we don’t usually reveal secrets like these to humans. But it seemed Furihata was careless and accidentally gave you a glimpse into our world.”

“I said I was sorry, Kuroko!” Furihata whispered, and Kuroko struck Furihata with a chilling glance before turning back to Seijuurou.

“Anyway. Yes. Furihata-kun is a witch, and he comes from a family of witches. A variety of species with many different abilities do exist, and no, they are not dangerous. They live amongst regular humans, and you likely interact with them every day.”

Seijuurou lifted a hand up, “Kuroko-san.”

“Yes, Akashi-san?”

“I apologize, but…” Seijuurou couldn’t find the right words to describe his emotions. This was crazy. Who was this guy, coming in here and saying all these things? There was no way that fantasy characters existed in the real world, that would be absurd.

But Furihata existed.

It defied science! To have abilities like these! Why had there not been any serious documentation done on these creatures, if they truly existed? How had humanity not caught on to them already, if they had truly been around for millennia?

How could they really exist? It didn’t make sense? Where had they come from?

“Akashi?”

Seijuurou blinked. He had spaced out, and now Furihata was kneeling next to him, looking sympathetic. “I really am sorry. It must have been a lot to take in,” he said softly. He took the hand Seijuurou still had outstretched between both of his. His hands were warm, a contrast to his own colder ones. “If you don’t want to think about it, there’s a spell I can do to erase your memories of me. Would that be better?”

Forget about Furihata? While it did seem appealing, to not have to stress about magic and witches, it would be a little sad to forget that Furihata ever existed, even if he was one of the most vexing people he had ever met.

Seijuurou snatched his hand back, faking an indignant expression. “I’m offended you take me for someone so weak.”

Instead of snapping back at him, Furihata smiled and went back to sit with Kuroko.

“Does that mean you’re alright?” Kuroko asked.

Seijuurou nodded. “It will take some getting used to, and I still have questions about how this is even physically possibly, but I am alright.”

“Good,” Kuroko nodded, smiling slightly.

Furihata, to the surprise of Seijuurou, patted Kuroko’s head. “Thanks, Kuroko. You’re a good cat,” and then he caught himself, and looked severely alarmed. He patted Kuroko’s head harder. “I-I mean, you’re a good friend.”

“Ouch, Furihata-kun.”

“Is this a kink thing?” Seijuurou asked, brows furrowed. “Do you two do that roleplay… stuff? Where he’s the cat and you’re the owner? I mean no disrespect, I don’t have any business with this, but I’m just curious.”

“R-roleplay?” Furihata sputtered, face going red. “No! Th-that’s! That’s not it at all! I-I… oh my god.”

“I am a werecat, Akashi-san,” Kuroko explained.

Seijuurou leaned back in his chair, making a noise of understanding, as if this was a completely normal thing to discuss. Werecats, kinks, and magic. This was his life now. Brilliant.

“How do you become a cat?” he asked, watching him with a calculating stare.

“At will.”

“I see.”

The two gazed at each other in a guarded fashion, while Furihata sat in between, nervously glancing between the both of them. “Um, Kuroko, why don’t you show him?”

Kuroko had the audacity to display the smallest of smirks at Seijuurou. “He wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Seijuurou sat up straight. “Of course I would. Go on. Do it. Unless this is all a lie.”

Kuroko smirked again, this time more obviously, then shut his eyes.

A disgusting sound of bones crackling came from Kuroko’s body, and Seijuurou felt a little like retching. Kuroko’s face morphed, he grew smaller, and light blue hair sprouted all over his body.

He couldn’t help it, he squeezed his eyes shut and sat still, body tense.

Seijuurou could feel Furihata kneel next to him and place a gentle hand on his arm. The touch, surprisingly, allowed him to breathe a little easier.

“You okay?” Furihata whispered.

Seijuurou nodded. “Of course,” he replied, and he would admit that it did sound a bit pompous. A bit too pompous considering he was seconds away from ruining his carpet with the contents of his stomach.

He then heard a tiny mewl.

There sat the smallest, most adorable kitten to have ever graced this planet. He had big, blue eyes, a round face, and a pudgy little body covered in light blue fur.

“Kuroko-san?” he mumbled, in wonder. The cat meowed in acknowledgement. Truly, he looked a little bored.

Furihata laughed and went to scoop Kuroko into his arms. “I actually found Kuroko as a cat, when we were younger. He was out in the rain. Something bad happened to him, and he was all alone, so I decided to take him home. He didn’t show me that he was a werecat until he saw me doing magic too, so it was a huge surprise when one day I turned around and a naked boy was sitting in my room. Really freaked me out.”

“I see,” Seijuurou said, still reeling a little from how impossible this all was, but it was happening. Right there, in front of his eyes.

The room was quiet for a few minutes, just the sound of Kuroko’s purring filling it, until Furihata cleared his throat. “D-did you like the cakes?”

Oh. The cakes.

“Did you really spend your rent money—” Seijuurou began, but Furihata made violent shushing noises, and nodded his head towards Kuroko, who had one eye cracked open now, suspicious. “I mean. I wasn’t able to eat them.”

“Oh.” He seemed a bit disappointed.

Furihata being disappointed somehow made an unidentifiable feeling blossom within Seijuurou’s chest. His big eyes seeming downcast and his shoulders slumping and his bottom lip jutting out the slightest bit brought a light ache to Seijuurou, and he just knew that he had to rectify it.

“We can eat it now, if you want?” he offered, and the way Furihata’s face lit up made the ache disappear almost immediately. Interesting. Maybe he was doing magic on him.

He got up and walked to the kitchen, listening to Furihata’s feet steadily follow him. Furihata sat down in the chair he sat in last night, and placed Kuroko on the chair next to him.

When Seijuurou went to get plates… he saw the knife in the sink. And he remembered exactly what he had done.

Seijuurou blindly reached into the cutlery drawer and felt around. Once he felt the handle, he pulled out a kitchen knife. He jabbed it in Furihata’s direction. “Get out!”

Furihata bit his lip, and his eyes watered a little. And then he sprinted out of the house. He heard the door slam behind him.

“Ah, Furihata...” Seijuurou began, scratching the back of his head out of awkwardness. “I want to apologize for yesterday. I shouldn’t have pulled a knife on you.”

In a moment, the cat that had been sitting serenely turned into Kuroko again with a pop, sans clothing. “You pulled a knife on Furihata-kun?” Kuroko questioned, eyes blazing, but face steadily calm.

“K-Kuroko, it’s okay… he was just scared…” Furihata tried to calm him down, but Kuroko paid no mind.

“Yesterday, when Furihata-kun came home—in tears, might I add—I had thought that he had been overreacting about you yelling at him. He did not tell me you pulled a knife on Furihata-kun,” Kuroko’s voice had a dangerous edge. “And to think that I brought him over to apologize to you, when you were just as much in the wrong as he was.”

While Kuroko did not seem very threatening physically, with the way he was now, he had no trouble believing that Kuroko might have murdered one or two people in his lifetime.

“That’s why I’m apologizing now,” Seijuurou replied, anger flaring up. “I was in shock, alright? And it was just for protection.”

Kuroko swept a hand towards Furihata. “You needed protection from him?” he sounded doubtful. “You look like you could pick him up and toss him across the room.”

“Hey!” Furihata cried, “I work out sometimes!”

“We both know that’s a lie, Furihata-kun,” Kuroko sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Akashi-san, if you are going to act violently towards Furihata-kun, then please allow him to erase your memories. I cannot allow Furihata-kun to be endangered.”

“I’m not in danger, Kuroko,” Furihata groaned, as if they had had this conversation multiple times.

“I’m not going to attack Furihata, Kuroko-san,” Akashi said, frowning. “And is it really your place to be making decisions for him? You’re not his caretaker.”

Kuroko’s smile had a razor-sharp edge to it. “I am indebted to Furihata-kun for saving my life and sheltering me. You may not know this, but Furihata-kun has been through a lot. If I have an opportunity to care for Furihata-kun’s well-being, then I will take it.”

Kuroko then stood up, plucked a vanilla cake slice from the box, and stepped away from the table. “I’m going to leave now. Please be safe, Furihata-kun.” He turned to leave.

Seijuurou was stunned, but not due to Kuroko’s heated words. Furihata voiced his thoughts.

“K-Kuroko! You can’t just leave naked! We’ll get another complaint!” Furihata fretted, stumbling out of his seat and after his friend. “Take your clothes!”

Kuroko was right. Seijuurou didn’t know very much about his neighbours. He’d known that from the beginning, but in light of recent events, he realized that he knew even less than he had previously thought. There was a figurative chasm separating Seijuurou from Kuroko and Furihata. They were worlds apart.

He heard some shuffling from the living room, some murmurs, and then the door shut. He heard Furihata’s steps approaching once more. “Ah, s-sorry about that, Akashi. Kuroko’s been super protective of me a-after…” he paused, glancing away for a moment. “Uh, after some stuff that happened a few years ago. But I can tell he likes you. He thinks you’re fun.”

He couldn’t remember doing anything particularly amusing in the past half hour that he had spent with them, but internally shrugged it off. Kuroko wasn’t of concern to him.

Well, neither was Furihata, really. But of the two, Furihata was more interesting.

Seijuurou gestured to the chair. “Sit. I want you to explain everything to me.”

Furihata sat down, but was puzzled. “Everything?”

Seijuurou sat down across from him, and passed him a plate and fork. He pulled out a cake piece for himself as he spoke. “Your family line, how powerful you are, what you do for a living, why you never leave the house, things like that.”

“Oh… you know I don’t leave the house much?” Furihata asked, sheepish.

Leaning over, Seijuurou lifted a cake piece and placed it onto Furihata’s plate. “I haven’t ever seen you leave the house. I’ve heard you coming back drunk, however.”

He winced. “A-ah, can the cake be payment for the flowers?”

Seijuurou sighed. That was probably as much of an apology as he was going to get concerning his peonies. “Fine. But I want you to explain everything about yourself as well. Then we’ll be even.”

Furihata was quiet for a few moments as he carefully cut a piece of the cake and put it into his mouth. He chewed with his eyes lowered in thought. Finally, when he swallowed, he spoke. “Um, I guess I’ll start with my family then. I come from a family of witches. I guess my family goes very far back, but I don’t have my family tree with me. I think that’s somewhere with a great-aunt of mine or something. So yeah.”

Seijuurou did not say anything. Rather, he watched Furihata attentively, periodically taking bites of the cake—which was rather good. He would have to visit the bakery himself.

His silence seemed to make Furihata nervous, and spurred him to keep speaking, which was the desired effect. Seijuurou had learned early on that if he wanted large amounts of information from someone, he should keep completely silent. It was a trick that made people offer more and more intel because they were unsure of what would satisfy the listener. It was a handy tool.

“R-right, so, um, let’s see. I have some cousins who are born without the ability, but everyone in my family has it. Both my parents practiced magic, though my mother wasn’t born with the ability. She got her powers through some dealings with a shaman, probably. I can’t remember. It was shady though. But yeah—me and my brother both grew up learning magic.”

He stopped speaking, and Seijuurou knew he would have to interject here, because Furihata was giving off one of those, “and that’s really it” type of expressions. “How do your powers work?”

“Uh… I was kind of born with them. And since everyone in my family had powers, I wasn’t told to suppress them or anything. So, I just learned how to control it, and I learned spells and how to make potions and basic things like that.” He paused for a moment, then smiled wryly. “I’m not that powerful. I guess I’m just average. My brother was super powerful though—they wanted him to train to be part of our coven’s head committee, which is something only really talented witches can do.”

“Was?”

Furihata’s eyes snapped out of their far-off look. “Huh?”

“Your brother was powerful, you said? Is he not anymore?” Seijuurou pressed. He might have been overstepping his boundaries, but if Furihata did not want to speak about his family to him, then he was welcome to say so.

“O-oh, right, um. Some stuff happened to my family, and because of that my brother can’t do magic anymore,” Furihata said, shifting uncomfortably.

Seijuurou nodded. “And what do you do, then?” Changing the subject would be best, for now.

Furihata visibly perked up. “I run an online business that sells spells and potions.”

He appeared to be very proud of it. “And… is it successful?”

Furihata shrugged. “Well, I would say so? I mean, I worked hard to make the website, and with your help, sales have been really good! I just have to work a bit more on promotion.”

Seijuurou faltered for a second, deciding whether this was something he was ready to get involved in. He’d already heard about his past and his magical abilities. Surely this couldn’t be any worse. It might be though. And that was what made Seijuurou hesitate.

Ultimately, he decided he might as well know everything. “Are… you really not able to pay your bills?”

Furihata gently placed his fork on his plate and weaved his fingers together. “Depends on who’s asking,” he gave Seijuurou a hard look. “Will this information get back to Kuroko?”

“… no?”

The steely expression immediately dropped to replace it with one of panic. “Okay, yes, I have trouble with bills. And rent. And sometimes I have to ration my pizza to make it last for a few days, but Kuroko can not know this.”

Seijuurou’s brows furrowed. “Why not? Doesn’t he help you with bills?”

“He’s in charge of some bills, and I’m in charge of others, and we split the rent. A-and he said that an online store wasn’t a stable job and that I should just get an office job but I really don’t like suits, they make me feel suffocated, and I don’t even have any work suits besides the one I wore to an interview Kuroko made me go to a few months back.”

Kouki paused to take in a deep breath, and then he stood up to lean over the table towards Seijuurou. Seijuurou almost flinched.

“This is a secret but I have to tell someone! The guilt has been eating at me for so long! I’ve been hiding the notices of outstanding payment left on bills I wasn’t able to pay from Kuroko, and I lied to my landlord and gave him charms to improve his love life if he could hold off on my portion of the rent for a little bit but they weren’t really charms, I’ve just been using love spells on him to make him more eye catching to people. He thinks I got them from some priest. A-and actually our electricity has been cut off but I’ve been lying and telling Kuroko that I’ve been suffering from some migraines so that’s why I need the house to be dark and I’ve magicked the wifi so that’s why we still have internet and I have to zap the batteries to recharge them a-and—”

Seijuurou stood up and put his hands on Furihata’s shoulders. “Stop. Please. For a second.”

Furihata’s shoulders were heaving.

Yup. This was definitely something that he shouldn’t have gotten into. He gave a light push to Furihata’s shoulders to get him back into a sitting position. Seijuurou sat down as well, and opened his mouth to speak, but:

“I have a tab at the pizza place that I can’t pay,” Furihata added in a weak voice.

Seijuurou dropped his face into his hands. “Oh my god.”

-x-x-x-

According to Furihata, the reason Kuroko hadn’t caught on yet was because Kuroko had begun to spend more and more time at his boyfriend’s house, only stopping by every few days to make sure Furihata was still alive. Technically, Kuroko hadn’t moved in with his boyfriend yet, and so he still paid his portion for the house with Furihata.  

The next weekend, Seijuurou was bent over Furihata’s kitchen table, which was cluttered with all the bills and notices threatening to turn off the electricity, water, as well as evict him from the house.

“What I don’t understand is,” Seijuurou sat back, rubbing his temples, “if you’re having such a hard time paying the rent, why don’t you guys just move to a cheaper place?”

The neighbourhood that Seijuurou lived in was fairly modest high-end community. Which meant, it wasn’t the affluent manors that Seijuurou grew up living in, but it was a step above the condo that he had gotten when he first started living on his own.

Bottom line, the people in the neighbourhood were able to afford at least two vacations abroad a year. Seijuurou hadn’t wanted to live in a stodgy high-class neighbourhood like he had done during his childhood. He wanted some semblance of normalcy. This was normal. A regular 6-bedroom house that was roomy and comfortable. Enough so his father wouldn’t complain about “living in the slums”.  

It did get lonely, sometimes, but it was a small price to pay.

However, it made Furihata’s decision to live here somewhat puzzling. If he could barely afford food, then why not choose a more economically sensible living space?

“This was my parents’ place a while back, and then they sold it to the current landlord. And because the landlord was nice, he gave us the place with a reduced rent when I came back a few years later, looking for a somewhere to live,” Furihata explained. “A-and I don’t want to move because… well, it was my parents’ place. Y’know what I mean?”

Well, he sort of did. He wouldn’t mind selling off a few of the properties under his family’s name, but he knew he’d never sell the home he had grown up in while his mother was alive. “Yes,” he answered simply.

Furihata nodded in approval. “So I can’t leave.”

Seijuurou sighed. “And you don’t want to get a more stable job?”

Furihata made a face. “My job is stable. Now, I mean. It’s stable now, it wasn’t before.”

“What are your profits like?” Seijuurou asked, eyes narrowing. Maybe he could force him into a job at Seijuurou’s company.

Furihata hesitated for a moment, opened his mouth to say something, but made a croaking sound instead. Defeated (by what? Himself?), he wordlessly grabbed a folded pile of paper and thrust it towards Seijuurou.

Seijuurou was almost scared to look at it. But look at it he did, and it was worse than he had thought. “Oh, Furihata…”

“I know.”

Seijuurou fell silent.

What could he do? He had to help him now. It wouldn’t be right to just sit aside and let his neighbour rot away with full knowledge. Seijuurou got himself into this mess, so it was his duty to help clean it up.

His mind started working quickly. “First, we have to do quality assessment and get feedback from current customers. Once we know what is working and what’s not, we can work on a little rebranding and marketing, and also find cost-effective ways to produce your… items.” He couldn’t bring himself to say, with a straight face, that the products were potions and spells.

Furihata was staring at him, his mouth and eyes all round O’s.

“What is it?” Seijuurou asked without much attention, shuffling the bills and notices into orderly piles. It was best to categorize them by company and utility, but with the amount accumulated, one could also organize them by the type of threat.

“That,” Furihata gulped a little, which got Seijuurou to look up in confusion. “That sounded really smart.”

Seijuurou stared for a minute, trying to understand how in the world Furihata found what he had just said to be ‘smart’. “… Thank you,” he settled on saying.

Furihata nodded, and turned his attention back to shuffling the papers into piles. “H-how do we do quality assessment? Should we send a survey?”

Shrugging, Seijuurou mulled over possible ideas. “Have you only sold these things over the internet?”

He shook his head. “No, I used to sell them at a stall in the Market. I thought the internet would help me branch out to other people not in the area.”

With a flip of a bill mentioning cuts to their water supply and a click of a pen, Seijuurou began scrawling out a few ideas. “Right, so we send a survey to your customers online and then we set up short interviews over the phone or in person with your customers in the area. After that, we make necessary adjustments to your product and website. This could take about two weeks, if we really push it.” Seijuurou suddenly looked up. “Will you be okay for two weeks?”

Furihata bit his lip in thought. “Maybe I can send Kuroko on a vacation for two weeks.”

“You can’t hide this from his forever—you’re aware of that, right?” Seijuurou was erring on the side of exasperated now.

Furihata was vehement in his response, “I’m gonna try to! Kuroko would be so disappointed if he found out. And also, he’d try to start paying for my portion of things, and that’s not fair to him.”

How desperately he wanted to roll his eyes right now. “Furih—”

“I’m home, Furihata-kun,” Kuroko’s voice called gently, and it looked like the blood had run straight out of Furihata’s face.

In a panic, Furihata stood up and waved his hands over the paper, but only caused them to ruffle slightly, like a small breeze had brushed past them. Furihata jumped in place a few times, visibly anxious, and waved his hands over the papers again. They didn’t even move this time.

Frustrated, he grit his teeth and looked up, suddenly locking eyes with Seijuurou. And the next thing Seijuurou knew, Furihata was laying on the table, and Seijuurou had been tugged forward by his collar. Losing his balance, Seijuurou reached out to grab the table to steady himself. “Furihata—!” Seijuurou tried to voice his displeasure at being manhandled, but Furihata fixed him with the most menacing snarl he had ever seen on the man’s face.

“Furihata-kun? Are you in he—oh.” Kuroko stood at the doorway of the kitchen, brows raised. “What are you doing?”

“Making out!” Furihata blurted out, eyes wide.

“What,” Seijuurou deadpanned.

“I see. I thought you two didn’t get along that way,” Kuroko leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He didn’t seem to be buying it.

This threw Furihata off for a second, and Seijuurou sure as hell wasn’t about to help him out of this one. “U-uh… it was s-sexual tension.”

Kuroko watched Furihata’s face for a moment, and then skimmed over the papers that he was laying over. “What are those?”

Furihata’s eyes were so wide at this point that it was likely they may just fall out of his head. “What?”

“The papers.”

“What papers?”

“Furihata-kun.”

“Huh?”

“Oh for the love of god,” Seijuurou muttered under his breath and then righted himself. “Hello Kuroko-san. I apologize you had to find us like this. I came over to suggest a potential partnership between Furihata’s business and my own before…” Seijuurou’s eyes slid over to Furihata’s wide ones, and the panic reflected in them made him smirk. “Before Furihata here got a little frisky.”

“Wha—”

“That’s gross, Furihata-kun.”

“I-I didn’t! You came onto me first!” Furihata tried to remedy, still carefully sprawled onto the table to hide the papers.

Seijuurou pointedly glanced at one of the threats written on the heating bill. “Oh really?”

Furihata was torn between his pride and Kuroko finding out about his situation, and Seijuurou kind of enjoyed watching him squirm a little. His smirk grew a little wider. He felt like grinning, and Seijuurou never felt like grinning.

“F-fine. I got horny and went at Akashi,” Furihata finally admitted in a resigned voice, and Seijuurou had to cover his mouth with his hand to mask his little laugh.

Kuroko scrunched his nose almost delicately. He really did seem like a cat at this moment, a cat who was given food it didn’t like. “Please never say that sentence to me again.” And with that, he turned around and left the kitchen.

Furihata relaxed against the table. “That was close.”

Seijuurou straightened out his shirt; it had become untucked when Furihata had so unceremoniously pulled it. “Why was your first instinct to hide the bills that?”

Furihata’s face immediately became red. “I-I… I don’t know? I was panicking, so my magic wouldn’t work, and so I just lay down on the table.”

Seijuurou raised a brow. This guy was an odd one. “Whatever. It’s fine. My next free day is on Saturday. Can you email your clients and set up interviews with them for that day? Then we can go there together.”

Nodding, Furihata got up onto his knees and saluted. “Yes, sir!”

The papers scrunched under his weight, and it bothered Seijuurou immensely. “Put those papers in a file. Order them by type of bill, and put the most urgent ones at the beginning of each pile.”

“Yes!”

“Start emailing people as soon as possible, because they may take time to respond. If you have their numbers, call them as well.”

“Yes!”

“Work on your magic so that we don’t have to pretend to kiss again.”

“Ye—hey.”

Seijuurou smirked outright, then. “The last one is very important. You’re not my type.”

Furihata crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “You’re not my type either.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. I’m leaving. Bye.”

As Seijuurou walked out, he heard Furihata yell an enthusiastic goodbye and thank you.

For the first time in a while, Seijuurou smiled to himself.