Had barely made ends meat gutting fish, Aya corrected himself.

Sakamoto Aya recognized the importance of people like Takahashi’s father in society. They were important. People like Takahashi were important, when they knew their place. Takahashi had known his place once. He had been obedient and docile, willing to do whatever Aya asked of him. He’d been smart enough to not mess things up, but not so smart that he’d get his own ideas and opinions about things. Even at the age of five, such things had been a major concern. Then he’d gone and made friends with that damn useless DyBane-Startredder and it had all been ruined. He’d gotten ideas unfitting of the son of a man who was dim as a stump and gutted fish for a living. Not that old Takahashi hadn’t been good at what he did which, as far as Aya had been able to see, involved smelling strongly of fish, getting his wife pregnant, and beating his children when they did something unsuitable.

Takahashi had gone and become best friends with the bloody crown prince of the damn country, he had started talking back to people, started voicing his own opinions, and got marks in school that were better than Aya’s. Young they may have been, but Aya had known, deep down, that there was something wrong that someone like Takahashi was able to do anything better than he could. Aya was the son of prestigious, wealthy man who had the ear of the king’s councillors, who wielded more power than Takahashi could ever dream of having, and that Takahashi could do something better than he could, when he was the son of a lowborn labourer suggested all kinds of unpleasant things Aya didn’t want to think about.

It suggested that no matter how important his father was, it didn’t mean Aya was important. Viciously, Aya stabbed at what he hoped was a tentacle, spearing it with a chopstick, and swirled it around in sauce that he hoped was made out of grapes. He ate it, suppressing a wince. He swallowed.

“It’s not,” he said to the world at large, “fair.”

Ruri looked up from her notes, one hand holding a piece of charcoal, the other operating her chopsticks, food halfway to her mouth. She rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to keep whining about Hikaru beating you in exams, I’m going to leave, Aya.”

That, Aya thought, was another of the things that made no sense in his life, that defied all that was logical, all that his parents had taught him. That he should be sitting here, eating horrible Maretan food, with Ruri, while she took notes from some damn book, and told him that he was whining and that she would leave if he didn’t stop. Girls, he was sure, weren’t supposed to do that.

Sometimes he wondered if Ruri really was a girl.

Ruri spoke loudly, and would argue with anyone on any point. She wore her hair short, like a boy, and he’d even seen her wearing one of her brother’s school uniforms, when she’d managed to escape her mother’s watchful eye one afternoon. It wasn’t, he was sure, normal.

But he wouldn’t have wanted to be here, eating lunch with Ruri, if she had been normal.

Even when, like today, her mother caught her before she escaped the house, Ruri didn’t pull off normal. Not even after her mother had done what she could with Ruri’s short hair, pulling the curling bangs back and holding them with coloured pins, and making her change into a proper kimono, complete with red and white floral print, ‘befitting a proper Aurian lady’ - Aya had once had the misfortunate of being present when Ruri’s mother found her dressed inappropriately, and he still winced at the memory of his friend’s humiliation.

Ruri had used one of the hair pins to stir her tea, and the other was serving as a bookmark.

“He got better marks than you did, too, Ruri,” Aya said, rather sulkily, hoping to hit a sore point in his friend. He and Takahashi both did better than Ruri, for the simple fact that Ruri lost her head when she sat down to write exams, would dash off answers as quickly as possible, and make silly mistakes. Sometimes he marvelled that she had been able to pass the exams to get into Kyoto Joshi Gakuen. He wished he could say he marvelled over Takahashi’s ability to get into the elite school, but he could recall the other boy on the day of the exam, they had both had the misfortune of sitting next to each other. Being near Takahashi that day had been like standing outside just before a thunder storm began. The amount of raw energy radiating from Takahashi had been unnerving.

“He got better marks than everyone, Aya. That was kind of the point. He worked hard for them. He deserves that award.” Ruri gave Aya what he always thought of as her ‘You’re a massive idiot, Sakamoto’ look.

“He hasn’t gotten it yet,” Aya snapped. “Besides, he’s probably only been doing well because his father –”

“You really shouldn’t talk about it. I think it’s bad luck, or something,” she said, without concern. “Besides, it’s a horrible thing to suggest that. You know the teachers would never go easy on anyone, even if such massive personal loss was involved.”

“He landed on his feet in all ways, it seems to me,” Aya sulked.

“If you lost your father you wouldn’t be talking like that,” Ruri snapped.

“If I lost my father, I wouldn’t be living at the palace.”

“If you lost your father, you’d be lucky to live in Hikaru’s old house. Your mother’s a complete idiot, she’d waste whatever your father left you in the space of a few days. And you still wouldn’t get better marks than Hikaru, because he works harder and writes exams better than you do.”

Aya winced and chewed on another tentacle. “Truce?” he suggested with a sigh.

“For the moment,” Ruri nodded.

They ate in silence for several long minutes.

“Why did you want to go out today?” Aya asked, stabbing at his plate and wondering if something was scrambling away from the tip of his chopstick.

Ruri shrugged. “I needed to get out of the house. My mother’s on the rampage lately.”

“Looks like you didn’t escape unscathed,” Aya grinned, and Ruri stuck her tongue out at him. “What set her off this time?”

“Taroyuki-niichan’s wife’s pregnant. She’s started talking about looking for families with ‘suitable sons’ again. If my father wasn’t around, she’d probably want to take me out of school and marry me off this summer, if she could.”

Aya winced in sympathy, although privately he thought annoying mothers were no excuse for dragging your best friend into the foreign area of the city to eat unmentionable Maretan food that didn’t even seem to be dead. “My parents have been talking about that too,” he offered.

“Yeah, but the guys don’t get married off until they have jobs and stuff, and can support a wife. You’ve got lots of time before it’s a threat.”

“I guess,” Aya murmured, and they lapsed into silence again.

Ruri scowled and went back to her book.

“Is this any better than talking about Takahashi?”

“Yes. Eat your lunch.”

The two teenagers finished eating in sulky silence, except for the occasional rustle of paper as Ruri turned a page, or the sound of wood hitting porcelain as Aya stabbed at his lunch rather viciously. When they were done, they had their usual spat about who was going to pay the bill for lunch, and, as everyone around them watched in curious disbelief, decided to split it because Ruri thought Maretan food was rather expensive, and Aya because he didn’t think Maretan food was worth it.

They wandered into what Aya thought of as the normal part of Kyoto and he glanced down at Ruri. “Uh, do you want me to walk you home or anything.”

She wrinkled her nose. “With my mother in one of those moods?”

“Think she wouldn’t be happy to see me?”

“She’d be altogether too happy to see you. She’d probably ask you in for tea.” Ruri shuddered.

Aya nodded in acknowledgement of this fact. The last thing you wanted was for your parents to go around approving of your friends. “Well, see you at school, then,” he nodded and began to walk away.

“Aya!”

“What?” he turned, surprised. Ruri didn’t sound angry, and he regarded her uncertainly. “Change your mind already?”

“Don’t be an idiot. It’s about Hikaru,” she said, ignoring the way Aya’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Takahashi’s name. “I know you’re upset that he’s doing better than you, but you should just let it go. It’s not going to look good if you go around being such an ass about losing to him. Poor sportsmanship, and all that.”

“He’s not a sportsman. He’s not anything physical.”

“Aside from being physically alive and all that.”

“Aside from that, yes.”

Ruri rolled her eyes. “Just . . . think about it, okay? You look like a bigger idiot than usual when you walk around acting and talking like someone shoved a poker up–”

“Ruri!” Aya scowled and blushed.

The girl grinned impishly and shrugged. “Think about it, Aya.” She gave his arm a farewell pat and ran off, the skirts of her kimono flapping upward to show bare ankle.

It was, Aya thought, most unfeminine and abnormal.