Chapter Text
Tropical mornings are delightful, Kazuichi has come to learn after a couple of weeks in this pseudo paradise; a digital retreat made only for them. He shouldn’t be surprised, not by anything churned out by the elite roster of Hope’s Peak students, but things just keep getting more outlandish. A completely virtual world always seemed like one of those far-out, futuristic fantasies, a kind of thing to be made hundreds upon hundreds of years from now, but he’d had no idea it was being brought to life right in the halls of his own high school. Just when he thinks he’s seen everything this place has to offer, something dreamlike and absurd is lurking around the corner. It frequently comes in the form of the prodigious inventor Miu, and he’s learnt quickly to discern her shadow from afar so that he might escape her bizarre and often frankly immoral plots.
That’s at least one of many reasons he’d been tentative about settling down into a comfortable rhythm in this place, but nothing has stood out to him as dangerous so far. For one of her endeavours, the place is abnormally PG-13, no doubt being strictly maintained as such by fellow contributors to the project. He’d half-expected some lewd easter eggs hidden around the place, coconuts shaped like tits or whatever erotic freakishness she’s known for, but there’s nothing. He’s not trying to bat for hypocrisy here, he’s well aware of his own perversities, but he’s really quite relieved. After all, now he’s seeing for himself what his commissioned work has led to. He hadn’t had much of a choice, having been strong-armed into cobbling together a few bits of hardware, but if the reward is such a relaxing, pacific paradise, things can’t get much fairer than that.
The temperature is perfect, especially in the mornings. His rhythm of living has settled, prompting him to routinely arise a few minutes before his alarm goes off, and the sunlight streaming through the blinds is the very definition of peaceful. Not too hot, not too cold, not even too bright- he’s not sure how that can be, but it’s like this very world is tailored not only to be realistic, but to cater to the comfort and needs of the students inside it. It’s fantastic. Miu should start focusing on more of this, and stop making such wild contributions to the sex-shop arms race that’s starting to break out between the science and health and social departments.
The languid mood of the morning is a good time to indulge himself in an unusual comfort. It’s nothing special, but sitting out on the front doorstep of his cottage in his bare feet is a small pleasure. It reminds him of home, being parked out on the outside shop floor with his tools and tinkering with whatever is within arms reach. No need to go anywhere, no need to talk to anyone, just peace, quiet and time on his hands. It’s like heaven on earth for him, and he considers looting bits of the supermarket and airport for spare parts to drag back to his nest. Hell, since the weather is so temperate today, he could even do it in the park or on the beach.
It’s his perfect idea of personal responsibility. Nothing to do but to decide what will make him happiest today, and it’s got an appeal that lasts for about five seconds when the leisurely scenery surrounding his cottage is disturbed. He suspects by the hurried footsteps that it could be Akane or perhaps Ibuki, both far too energetic for their own good, but colour him surprised, it’s neither. It’s actually Gundham.
The first word to fly into his head is ‘asshole’ so he buttons his lip and stares pointedly in the other direction as he waits for the walking eccentricity to pass. Curiously, he doesn’t. He stops with a sharp skid just a few feet away, and when he remains eerily still for longer than is comfortable, Kazuichi is forced to acknowledge him. He bares his teeth at the other boy, hoping that might be enough to scare him off, but who is he kidding? He couldn’t scare off a butterfly. His mood is rendered tepid, and he thinks now is as good a time as any to go and get some breakfast, but before he can scramble back indoors, he’s addressed rather informally.
“You.”
Kazuichi leans back with a frown. He blinks, taking in what little detail of Gundham’s form he can perceive when it’s eclipsed by the sun. Resting back on his hands, he gives a lazy nod.
“What?”
“I suppose you’ll have to do.”
Kazuichi snorts. Not with that attitude he won't. It’s a sour start to a conversation, and Kazuichi is petty enough to let it play out for his own amusement. He won’t be doing any favours, but he’ll humour Gundham at the very least. His head lolls to one side as he then mutters, “What the hell are you talking about now?”
There’s a distinct quirk to Gundham’s pale lips, drawn in as he’s mulling over his options. Something needs to be done, he’s strained in his decisiveness, but since he’s landed upon Kazuichi with such conviction, he’s got no other choice. His chest expands with the deep breath he takes, and when he exhales, it’s the stupidest thing Kazuichi has ever heard.
“My door is gone.”
Kazuichi stares. “Y’what?”
“I said, mortal-with-no-ears, my door is gone! As much as it pains me to admit it, I’m going to require your expertise.”
Gundham folds his arms impatiently, but there’s a distinct quivering of his fingers tapping against his arm that reveals a sensitive nerve. He’s seriously frayed thin here, but Kazuichi is still trying to wrap his head around the crux of the matter. He wants to laugh right in his face, but the shuddering anxious energy seeping through Gundham’s body paints a picture of a punch to the back of the head.
“I heard you just fine the first time, I just don’t understand what the hell you mean. Your...door is gone? What door?”
Gundham’s arms go slack, his jaw, too, in disbelief, and he gesticulates with wild intent for a moment as words fail him. He looks torn between storming off and throttling Kazuichi, but eventually he just falls still. With his fingers, he brushes back some of the stray strands of hair at the top of his forehead. The clearing of his throat is of gentle, rumbling exasperation.
“The entrance to my abode. The front door is gone. I awoke this morning to find it had disappeared- don’t ask me where for I do not know! If I did, I wouldn’t be here now.”
Slowly, Kazuichi leans to one side to peer further down the row of cottages beside him, and if he squints hard enough, he can see the front of Gundham’s cottage is looking a little different. Where he supposes the door would be is just darkness, made difficult to see from the awkward angle he’s sitting at. His eyes flit back up to meet Gundham, who is growing more irate by the second, and understandably so.
“...what the hell?” Kazuichi snorts, breaking out into perplexed laughter. “Was it still there when you went to sleep?”
Gritting his teeth, Gundham snaps, “Do you take me for some kind of fool?! Of course, it was! I take care in assuring my door is locked during the night, for the sake of the safety of my four Devas of Destruc—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kazuichi waves him off with a dismissive click of the tongue. “Dark lords, devastation and all that shit. I got it. So, you woke up and it was gone. What, did you piss someone off? And why do you need my help? Surely, you can fix a door by yourself, it’s not rocket science.”
Flexing his fingers, Gundham huffs and replies, “There is no mortal in this otherworldly paradise who would dare commit such treachery towards someone with my capabilities. Doing so would be nothing short of a death sentence! And when I discover the foul perpetrator behind this deed, their fate shall be sealed!”
“Dude, it’s a fucking door, chill out,” Kazuichi sighs, pulling himself up to his feet and dusting the patches of sand off his backside. “Get some hinges, some screws and a drill, and you’re good to go. Y’don’t need me to babysit you for this one, man.”
Poor choice of words, he comes to understand, as Gundham begins to seethe visibly. Though pale in his complexion, when his face heats up, instead of glowing a rosy-red colour, it burns a very faint shade of purple. It’s startling to see up close because he looks more like he’s suffocating than simmering with rage. Kazuichi takes a tentative step back, hoping that Gundham doesn’t decide to close the distance.
“Alright, alright,” Kazuichi stammers, hoping to cut Gundham off before he can launch into a violent rant about his demonic status and his lack of desire to be ‘babysat’. Kazuichi doesn’t believe a word of his delusions of grandeur, but he’s also not keen to find out what the ninth circle of hell looks like. For now, he’ll wisely hedge his bets and avoid angering a boy who is considerably bigger than he is. “L-let’s...start there then. The supermarket will have everything you need. It’s really not much at all.”
“I’m well aware,” Gundham sighs, tugging at the hem of his scarf. For a moment, Kazuichi thinks he’ll bite back again, but instead, he murmurs, “I...am unfamiliar with your mortal infrastructure. I would not wish my powers to cause undue devastation upon your dwellings through my lack of knowledge.”
So, the guy doesn’t know how to fix a door. Go figure. Still, the guy isn’t a complete moron, as much as it pains him to admit, so Kazuichi doesn’t know why he can’t just work it out on his own. Spurred by his curiosity, Kazuichi can’t help but probe a little.
“Have you never built, like, a hutch or anything? Or a hen-house?”
“I have, but I was well-equipped for the task, and bestowed the sacred texts necessary to aid me.”
Ah. He had instructions. Well, it’s surface-level Ikea knowledge, but Kazuichi feels like the guy should really have a few more trade skills under his belt. He’s no good at concealing his thoughts, so his face radiates his opinion quite honestly. As if wounded by such a response, Gundham tugs the hem of his scarf over his chin and mumbles, “...there were a lot of hinges at the supermarket, and I was unsure of which ones to get.”
“Alright, well, I s’pose I can help you find the ones you’re looking for. Though, really, we should probably prioritise finding the door itself. No point buying hinges if there’s nothing to attach ‘em to,” Kazuichi sighs, tugging his beanie down over the back of his head. It’s not what he’d planned to do with his day, and not really something he’d normally waste time on, but...well, there’s something a little funny about the situation. How the hell does someone lose a door? He’s pretty keen to find out, but there’s one other thing on his mind too.
“Could you not find anyone else to help you? I mean, I think I’m a bit overqualified for this case,” he says, following up with an immodest laugh that elicits a twitch from his companion.
“You weren’t my first choice,” Gundham tells him sternly. “Hajime is busy at this moment in time.”
Kazuichi squints at him, hoping the guy might take the hint that if he keeps chatting like that, he’ll be getting no help at all. Sadly, Gundham isn’t the kind of guy to take a hint with ease. A hint might have better luck bashing him over the head than suggesting itself with any subtlety, which is pertinent, because any more than two minutes spent talking to Gundham makes it an incredibly tempting course of action.
“Hajime,” Kazuichi grunts, a little miffed at being designated a second choice to him. Not that Hajime is a bad guy by any stretch of the margin, but Gundham could’ve aimed a little higher. Nidai isn’t such a bad choice, Kazuichi wouldn’t hate being his back-up, or even Peko, but it’s not brightening his current situation regardless. He feels like he’s sort of agreed to this already, so backing out now would just be poor form.
“Whatever,” he shrugs indifferently. “Let’s find your door. It can’t have gotten far, it’s not exactly mobile.”
Gundham suddenly shakes his head, wild in his impatience. “It’s futile. I have spent all morning searching for it, but to no avail. Every turn yields disappointment.”
“Have you asked anybody about it?”
“I have made many attempts, but it seems today is a rather busy day for all. Those I have spoken to have seen nothing. I was unable to locate the others,” Gundham replies, regretful in his tone. He stares down hard at the floor, and the way he chews his lip makes him look a little hurt. Guess nobody could spare the time to help him out. Whilst Kazuichi can’t really find fault in the others, a missing door is pretty big. It’s not like losing a necklace, it’s a lot of privacy at stake.
“So, you looked everywhere,” Kazuichi mutters, tapping a finger to his chin. “Somehow, I don’t think we’re gonna find whole doors at the supermarket. We’re gonna have to get one from somewhere else.”
“Sourcing a door is no easy task,” Gundham reminds him with unease. “I somehow doubt Usami will take kindly to us removing one from somewhere else. I might’ve suggested somewhere like the beach house.”
“Oh, you got a point, actually,” Kazuichi sighs, pocketing his hands and urging Gundham to start walking with him. At the very least, they can start by getting some supplies. “I mean, I don’t think the beach house will really miss a door, it’s not like you can get changed in there anyway, but this leaves us with another problem.”
“What?”
“Well, if we take a door from somewhere else, then we’ve gotta work out the door handle; getting the latch to fit, working a deadbolt on it, you might have to fuck around with the door-frame itself, which is a complete ballache. I mean, we can try that if we don’t find anything else, but it’ll be a pain in your ass for sure.”
“I’d rather a pain in my ass now than sleeping with the door open later,” Gundham retorts stiffly. “Wild animals might have no presence on these isles, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the Devas will be safe out in the open.”
It’s a weird little hook in his reasoning that catches Kazuichi suddenly. Their walk to the supermarket is leisurely despite the creeping, uncomfortable circumstances, and Kazuichi knows that Gundham is fierce in his privacy, intentional in his isolation and aggressively verbal about it too, but he seems more concerned for the wellbeing of his hamsters than his own, and sleeping with the door open is practically an invitation to someone like Teruteru or Ibuki. It comes as no real surprise, his ultimate status revolves entirely around the welfare of animals, but seeing it in passing like this makes him seem more responsible than he'd have anyone believe.
“You want we should get a lock for your hamster cage, too?” Kazuichi shoots him a sly smile, his jab hanging limply in the air like a bad joke. He half-expects Gundham to heavily stress the importance of the situation, but instead, he really seems to consider it. The cogs turning in his head is indicative of way too much thought being applied to a throwaway joke, and Kazuichi politely attempts to hide his exasperation.
“Perhaps,” Gundham then hums, fixated quite heavily on the ground in front of him as they walk. His preoccupation with staring down at his feet doesn’t go unnoticed by Kazuichi. “Some animals are known to escape their cages if the safety measures aren’t secure enough. The Devas are trained to obey my every command, so there is no risk of them breaking free of their nightly confinement, but even so…”
“Erm,” Kazuichi coughs awkwardly into his hand. “Better safe than sorry, right? Though, I’m sure in a place like this, they’ll be fine. I mean, is it any different from how you do things at home? I wouldn’t be surprised if you built some kind of...I dunno, some maximum security animal facility in your—”
“I keep my demon beasts suitably contained,” Gundham cuts him off with an indignant hiss. “I do not cut corners nor do I overcompensate for their safety. Their homes are exactly how they should be. Being kept in the wrong environment is a huge factor for stress. I’m simply considering this because I do not wish other people to intrude and bother them whilst I’m asleep.”
“...gotcha,” is all Kazuichi can say. The guy really cannot take a joke, not that Kazuichi’s jokes are total winners in the first place. Everything seems to fly right over his head, and against the niggling of Kazuichi’s own empathy, it’s really starting to piss him off. Being caught in an awkward silence like this is unbearable, so he’s happy to let his mouth run at least until they get to the supermarket.
“So, you got lots of anim--….demon beasts at home, or what?”
Gundham clicks his tongue with obvious distaste; fuck Kazuichi for trying to make an effort, the mechanic thinks darkly. Nevertheless, always at ease conversing about his passion, Gundham doesn’t deny him the answer to his question.
“The beasts I am bound to are not all contained within my earthly abode.”
“Okay, and what’s that in dumb mortal language?”
This is met with a sigh, which Kazuichi thinks he’ll be hearing a lot of throughout the day. Gundham is very lucky that the mystery behind his missing door is so compelling, or Kazuichi would be turning on his heel and stalking back to his cottage in minutes. He’s tempted to dangle that fact in front of the guy in order to get a little normalcy out of him, but there’s no way that’ll happen. He’ll probably just get yelled at.
“...the animals I care for do not all live in my home,” Gundham repeats thickly. “It is simply a fraction of them.”
“Oh,” is the lame reply. The confusion warrants further explanation, or at least in Gundham’s eyes it does.
“My home is not built for the company of certain animals,” he begins. “It houses a dog, a cat, the Devas too, obviously, but the rest are split between conservation centres and...well, the unyielding darkness of the woods.”
The air conditioning unit planted above the supermarket doors sends a cool chill over the backs of their necks as they arrive at the store. There’s nobody else in sight, and the sounds of the soles of their shoes squeaking against the linoleum fills the otherwise silent building. Kazuichi emits a heavy huff, not impressed by what he’s hearing, but intrigued nonetheless.
“The woods? Just straight up out in the wild? Can you even call that a pet?”
“I don’t call any of them ‘pets’,” Gundham grumbles from somewhere under the fabric of his scarf, hesitantly allowing Kazuichi take the lead in their quest to source supplies for his predicament. “But...yes, I keep an eye on a warren of rabbits, though I don’t tend to intervene personally in their business. I also have a pact with a bear—”
“Sorry, did you just say a bear? You have a bear as a pet?”
Clearly, his earlier statement has fallen on deaf ears, but being met with Kazuichi’s wide and slightly frightened eyes, Gundham thinks it’s easier for them both to just humour him. Funnily enough, he doesn’t know that the same resignation is being applied to him, too.
“Sure.”
“I...I don’t think you can do that, dude. Keep a bear as a pet, I mean…”
Without missing a beat, Gundham’s firm reply is, “And, who’s going to stop me?”
Kazuichi simply hisses through his teeth, an indication of his own clear stupidity because what else could he have expected from such an anomaly as Gundham? The guy probably thinks the police are just a suggestive force, and the laws exist purely as guidelines. Kazuichi would love to live a life so indifferent to rules and regulations, but he’s not looking to get arrested and/or mauled by a dangerous animal. All he can do is shrug, finding himself a comfortable place in the hardware aisle of the supermarket.
“I dunno, man,” he mumbles, attention suitably stretched between the conversation at hand and the packets of metal hinges he’s sifting through. “I feel like the police would have somethin’ to say about that. I didn’t think you’d get bears out in this part of the country though, wild or not…”
Gundham might be rolling his eyes right about now, the prominent silence following Kazuichi’s words would suggest something of the sort, but his tone is plain when he speaks again. “Don’t be so foolish. The bear is well cared for in a facility catered to its needs. Many species of bear native to this country are endangered, so it’s vital to keep them safe. My feud with the law is on stable terms currently. The sacred archangel has willed it so. There shall be no more bloodshed.”
There’s not a lot in the world that can pull Kazuichi’s attention from the solace of his passion for the mechanical, but this is something that draws his eyes very quickly, wide and unblinking as he looks up at Gundham in disbelief.
“...what do you mean ‘currently’? That feels like a lot more words than it’s necessary to say that you’re not in trouble with the cops.” He tries to ignore the use of the word ‘bloodshed’, hoping that it’s simply an enormous exaggeration on Gundham’s part. Still, with this guy, there’s really no telling…
Gundham clams up rather quickly after that point, mumbling to himself about the exhausting ordeal of conversing with a mortal. For a minute, Kazuichi thinks this is probably more interesting than the door fiasco, and as he methodically goes over every word he remembers hearing, his incredulity grows; around it forms an open-mouthed smile that’s reserved for only the stupidest of endeavours.
“Are you saying you got into beef with the police and your ma had to come and talk you down?” He’s giggling before he can even get the words out, and every spluttered snicker just adds to Gundham’s ire. The way he folds his arms now reads less like merciful overlord and more like petulant four year-old.
“I-it’s not like that!” Gundham reasons rather poorly, the strain in his voice betraying his attempt to deflect. “My duty to the beasts is absolute, come hell or high water! No amount of law enforcement will come between me and my work!”
“But I bet your ma’s a different story, huh?” Kazuichi grins, snagging a packet of hinges from the racks without even looking at it, concrete in the confidence of his choice. “What does a guy like you even do to get in trouble with the fuzz? I’ll bet it was that bear, wasn’t it?”
“It was not! I had simply aided a defenceless creature in its bid for freedom.”
“You...what, did you let an animal loose somewhere? Were you at the zoo?”
“I...relocated someone’s dog.”
Relocated read ‘stole’. Kazuichi’s eyes bulge. The packet of hinges almost slip from his fingers, something he then quickly stows away safely in his pocket. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Of all the stupid things-- surely, Gundham would be against something like that? Before he can lay a slew of derogatory remarks upon the other boy, Gundham cuts him off with a tetchy addition.
“And, before you say anything, the dog was living in a heinous household, and I was six.”
A valid justification, though not enough to alter Kazuichi's lacking opinion of him. It’s still a dumb idea, and Gundham is still certifiably a dumbass in his eyes, but he supposes the intention was good. What a weird way to get tangled up with the police. He wonders if the law enforcement local to Gundham’s area are particular keen-eyed when it comes to him and his overlordly antics.
“Pfft, it’s better than what I could do,” Kazuichi shrugs a little too honestly. Punk as he may attempt to be, his emulation failing at almost every step, he’s pretty agreeable when it comes to the law. “I mostly just got chewed out for doing stupid shit at school. No way I could tangle with the cops, my dad would beat the shit out of me.”
Though he says it with a laugh, Gundham recoils slightly, his eyes just about visible peering over the hem of his scarf, flickering with discomfort. Kazuichi’s lingering chuckle dies so horribly in the air that he’s embarrassed by himself, and he clears his throat to make a rectification.
“Erm, it’s not...don’t worry about that,” he says lightly. “He’s not...it’s whatever, you know?”
Gundham doesn’t attest openly to knowing so, leaving the conversation bathed in suffocating silence. Kazuichi clicks his tongue with the indication that they should probably get going, his eyes darting everywhere but Gundham in an attempt to salvage the interaction. Oh, hey, night-vision goggles are half price. Well, everything is free around here, so it doesn’t really matter.
Eventually, he sighs. “I got tools in my cottage, I’ll lend you those. Now, about a door… Even a few bits of driftwood would be better than nothing, but I doubt stuff like that washes up on a digital shore.”
“I...suppose not.”
“I mean, if you really wanted to put the work in, I don’t think there’s much stopping us from, like, chopping down a tree. A lot of these palm trees are pretty straight, actually…”
“I’d rather not do that. Few as they are, there are still birds here.”
He’s really not making it easy, but it’s not as much a drain on Kazuichi’s patience as he’d expected. The challenge is alright, but he's very much going out of his way to help a guy he doesn’t even like. There’s really nothing in it for him but the sweet satisfaction of a job well done, but if Sonia isn’t around to be impressed, is there any point?
So, they can’t chop wood, and stealing a door from somewhere else doesn’t seem wise. What else is flat and light enough to use as a door?
“Hey, what about a surfboard?” Kazuichi pipes up, bright in his declaration. “I mean, it might not be airtight, but the island is so warm that I don’t think it’ll matter much! Could put two together, hinge ‘em to the door-frame, job’s a good’un. It’ll stop people peeking into your cottage, that’s for damn sure.”
Gundham still looks unsure, but it’s a lost cause now because Kazuichi can feel his imagination running wild at the thought of it. It’s not as technical a job as he’d prefer, his hands itching to fiddle with a variety of little bits that could come together to great one marvellous machine, but it’s something new to try. After all, every little mechanical endeavour ultimately stacks more skill and practice upon what he’s already got, and that is the point of this school trip. Usami shouldn’t have room to complain, he’s exercising his skill as an ultimate perfectly. Then, after work is done, he can finally get an answer to what the hell actually happened.
Snapping his fingers, Kazuichi interrupts Gundham and grins, “I’ve got it! Two surfboards-- let’s see, can’t be too hard to cut them...sticking them together, well, you can’t weld ‘em, so maybe an adhesive will be good enough? It’s all temporary anyway, we’ll be back at school before you know it. We’ve got hinges, and...yeah, there’s stuff for a door handle here! The door-frame already has the parts it needs...so long as I just...yeah, I can make it work!”
To Gundham, it’s just incomprehensible babbling, but there’s a distinct light of hope in Kazuichi’s eyes which tells him he’s probably in safe hands. Against his better judgement, his much better judgement, he allows Kazuichi to ramble on for a little while longer. So long as his door is fixed by the end of it and he can sleep soundly knowing no harm will befall his hamsters, he doesn’t care.
“If you can do it, then do it,” Gundham finally tells him. “But if it fails, know that I will blame you for it.”
Oh, he is just a treat. Kazuichi, in that moment, wants nothing more than to throw the hinges right into his stupid face and storm out of the supermarket in a huff. What kind of response is that to a guy who’s trying to help? He might just be the ultimate poster child of self-sabotage, but in a moment of unusual self-awareness, Kazuichi thinks Gundham’s got him beat.
“Yeah, real nice thing to say to someone trying to help, dickhead,” Kazuichi snaps, deciding to be resolute in his intention of helping. Sonia might not be here to see it, but she’ll be around to see the finished product alright, and when the job is done, maybe he can wrangle some proper recognition out of this idiot. For the first time in his life, spite is spurring his work instead of hindering it.
Gundham doesn’t respond. His disinterested gaze flits away, occupied by a shelf full of gardening tools and weedkiller. If he’s going to poison the conversation with his pomposity, the least he can do is give a real answer. It’s just layers of irritation with this one. Kazuichi’s lesser imagination compares him to an onion made of shit. It just keeps going and keeps getting worse, and at the very end, what's on the outside turned out to be what's on the inside as well.
Storming past him, making quite sure to bash shoulders, Kazuichi spits, “You’re carrying the surfboards back. I’m gonna go get my tools. Meet me back at your cottage if you want a new door.”
Before Gundham can make any attempt at a retort, civil or not, Kazuichi is gone, and all that remains of his presence is the lingering shift of the automatic doors, indicative of someone’s movement.