Chapter 18

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His soft, obedient black hair lay against both cheeks. His features bore the unmistakable signs of Eastern European ancestry: deep-set eyes and sharply defined contours. His eyes, clear and luminous as amethysts, seemed to hold stars that glittered with dazzling brilliance. His skin was pallid to the point of looking unhealthy, lending him a fragile, almost shattered air. He wore a spotless white shirt, the collar slightly open, revealing the faint outline of his collarbones.

His frame was thin and delicate, as though a gust of wind might carry him away. Yet he was not short; he stood nearly as tall as Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo, both of whom were approaching six feet.

“Fyodor, you’re here.” Masamichi Yaga inclined his head. “Perfect timing. These two are your classmates.”

Suguru Geto’s eyes reflected the boy’s figure. Widening them in surprise, he said, “You?”

Yaga glanced between the two of them. “You know each other?”

Fyodor noticed the surprise on Geto’s face as well and came back to himself. “Yes. I and this—”

“My name is Suguru Geto,” Geto supplied.

Fyodor finished what he had been saying. “Suguru Geto. We ran into each other on the street before. I wasn’t feeling well at the time, and Geto helped me. What a coincidence that we should meet again here.”

“Fate,” Yaga remarked.

Satoru Gojo’s ethereally blue eyes lingered briefly on the black-haired boy. He could not see anything particularly remarkable about him. If he had to say anything, it was that the boy did not seem very healthy.

The black-haired boy appeared to notice Gojo studying him. Or perhaps everyone else present had already spoken, leaving only Gojo silent. In any case, he turned toward Gojo and greeted him amiably.

“Hello.”

Gojo responded perfunctorily. “Mm. Hi.”

Now that everyone had arrived, Yaga simply led his three students to collect their textbooks, temporarily setting aside his lecture for Geto and Gojo.

They left the office and proceeded down the corridor, stopping at the door of the last room. Yaga slipped a hand into his pocket and fumbled around before pulling out a key. He inserted it into the lock and turned it to the right. With a click, the door opened.

It was a storage room, made out of an unused classroom, currently filled with desks, chairs, and books.

Geto swept his gaze around the room. Six sets of desks and chairs had been placed against the wall on the far side. Two bookshelves stood at the back, but they contained no books at all and were completely empty. On the floor beside them, however, sat two cardboard boxes, one of which was open.

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After opening the door as wide as it would go, Yaga stepped inside and walked straight toward the cardboard boxes. He crouched down and took the books out.

“Come over and collect your textbooks.” Yaga placed several books across his thighs and checked them. Only after confirming that each set was complete and nothing was missing did he call out to them.

Geto did not move. Instead, he turned to look at Gojo and Fyodor.

Fyodor did not move either. Gojo stood between him and Geto, but that did not stop their gazes from meeting.

Geto gave him a polite smile.

Fyodor pressed his lips together, then returned the smile.

Unable to bear their mutual courtesy any longer, Gojo walked over first and took the books Yaga held out.

“You first?”

“You go ahead.”

Gojo had already collected his books, yet the other two were still politely insisting that the other go first. The white-haired boy’s mouth twitched. Speechless, he said to Yaga, “Teacher, just give me their books too. If they keep deferring to each other, they’ll create a perpetual-motion machine—and I have no intention of spending the night here with them.”

At his words, the two immediately stepped forward. Their movements were so perfectly synchronized that they both came to a halt, then turned to look at each other once again.

Geto could not help letting out a soft laugh. When they had first met, he had not thought much of the boy; he had merely done a good deed on impulse and never given it another thought.

But now he knew that the boy could also see curses, that they would be classmates in the future, and that he was not nearly as irritating as a certain white-haired nuisance. By comparison, Geto’s favorable impression of Fyodor rose rapidly.

“Tch.” Gojo tossed the books in his hands into Geto’s arms. Geto caught them instinctively and stared at Gojo in bewilderment.

Gojo paid no attention to his reaction and extended his empty hand toward Yaga.

Yaga silently handed him the second set of books.

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After accepting them, Gojo continued holding out his hand.

Yaga: “?”

Seeing the confusion on Yaga’s face, Gojo explained, “Fyodor doesn’t look like he’s in the best of health, so I’ll carry his books for him.”

An expression of gratitude appeared on Fyodor’s face. “Thank you, Gojo, but I’m not so weak that I can’t carry a few books.”

Gojo opened his mouth to speak, then his eyes shifted, as though he had thought of something. His gaze paused on Geto for a moment. Then a smile blossomed across his face, and he strode over to the black-haired boy. With one hand, he steadily balanced two stacks of books; with the other, he slipped an arm familiarly around the boy’s shoulders.

“Oh, come on. Classmates are supposed to help each other out. If you really want to thank me, how about having dinner with me tonight so we can get to know each other better?”

If they had not been the same gender, Gojo’s flippant and outrageously suggestive words would have qualified as harassment.

Of course, the most important point was that Gojo had a face so beautiful it blurred the line between masculine and feminine, earning him a considerable number of extra points.

“Huh? Um, sure. Should we invite Geto too?”

The black-haired boy turned toward Geto and asked hopefully.

From an angle Fyodor could not see, Gojo flashed Geto a provocative smile.

Geto took a deep breath. “...I’m going.”

Perhaps it was only an illusion, but there seemed to be a distinctly gritted quality to his voice.

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