#in this fic: unapologetic sap and jokes that are funny only to me

[crehador]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: ヒプノシスマイク | Hypnosis Mic (Albums) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aohitsugi Samatoki/Yamada Ichiro Characters: Yamada Ichiro, Aohitsugi Samatoki, Nurude Sasara, Tsutsujimori Rosho, Amayado Rei Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Marriage Proposal, mentioned Nurude Sasara/Tsutsujimori Rosho, mentioned past Aohitsugi Samatoki/Nurude Sasara Summary:

Ichiro just wanted to go out for some yakitori with Samatoki. He ends up getting a whole lot more.

[marshmallowgoop]

Platonic Senketsu/Ryuko fanfic ? ( please ? )

I’m not sure if this is a request for fic recommendations or a request for a fic, so…

If you’re looking for the former, I made a list for Senketsu fic recs a while back, of which most are platonic Ryuko/Senketsu stories.

I also include a lot of platonic Ryuko/Senketsu stories in my own fic, Strings and Threads, a collection of Kill la Kill short stories. Any romantic Ryuketsu will be labeled with “Ryuketsu” there; the rest is platonic.

If you’re looking for the latter, well. I’ve been working on a platonic Ryuko/Senketsu story that might be of interest, maybe?

Title: comfortable

Fandom: Kill la Kill

Summary: A trip to the movies becomes something more.

Notes: Author’s notes/commentary for this story can be found here.

[AO3] [FFNET]

It all begins on July 7th, with a romantic space adventure.

The movie was Senketsu’s idea, ‘cause somehow—and it wasn’t any fault of hers—Ryuko’s ridiculous uniform got it in his ridiculous head to find the trailers intriguing.

Like, intriguing-enough-to-warrant-a-trip-to-the-theater intriguing.

And Senketsu didn’t just want to go as a joke, either. He was stone-cold, dead serious. Some sappy, insufferable love story between an alien and a human that those damn promos and TV spots couldn’t stop overhyping got him all starry-eyed in a way that Ryuko thought only a good ironing could do, and he was completely unapologetic about his excitement, eagerly gushing on and on and on.

And, well, Ryuko wasn’t gonna rain on Senketsu’s parade (he just hasn’t seen enough movies to know any better, she told herself), but if she were being honest, she was absolutely, utterly convinced that no one else in the entire world wanted to see the corny mess. Even Mako of all people passed up on it.

But beyond Ryuko’s most out-there, nonsensical, wildest expectations, Satsuki agreed.

Satsuki Kiryuin.

“I think it looks quite sweet,” Satsuki said, when Senketsu inquired about the cheese-fest while out on one of their shopping extravaganzas. She smiled his way—that-too-nice-for-Satsuki kinda expression that Ryuko’s still getting used to—not even hesitating as she declared, in no uncertain terms, “I would love to go with you, Senketsu.”

Ryuko right choked on her ice cream at that.

Senketsu couldn’t have been happier.

(But he tried very hard not to let it on, the obnoxious outfit.)

Still, even if the thought of her own flesh-and-blood sister having such terrible taste made Ryuko die on the inside a little bit, she put it on herself to see the best of the situation. She was stuck going to the theater with Senketsu no matter what—God knows (if there is a God, of course) that Ryuko would endure ten trillion times worse than a shitty movie to see Senketsu happy—but at least with Satsuki tagging along, Ryuko would have someone else to keep her company, too.

There would be no way that Ryuko’s very own big sis could think such a ridiculous, gooey, feel-good sap trap was any good at all once they were actually there in the theater.

No way in hell.

On the sunny, balmy afternoon of July 7th, Ryuko is wrong.

Very, very, very wrong.

Well, actually, Ryuko tells herself, as the three of them exit the dark theater, the movie was just as bad as she had expected. (Maybe even worse, if she were telling the truth.)

But she certainly, definitely didn’t expect the absolutely nauseating gushing that Senketsu and Satsuki got up into as soon as the credits rolled.

Heck, how they even kept paying attention past the first fifteen minutes is well beyond her understanding, but as soon as Ryuko comes face-to-face with the overly-bright, too-hot reality of summer in Japan, she can’t try to deny the sickening, horrible truth a second longer.

Satsuki and Senketsu didn’t just like the movie.

They loved it.

And they’d spent the last who-the-hell-knows-how-long spouting out nothing but praises and overeager blubbering, and they’re not stopping. They’re standing out in broad daylight and walking down the sidewalk talking their mouths off about the most embarrassing movie to hit the theaters in ten million years.

Ryuko half-considers tossing the last remnants of her Calpis over herself just to get them to yap about something else.

But she doesn’t.

And on they go.

On and on and on.

“If I saw it again,” Senketsu says, after spilling out a whole stream of I know, I know!s, “I still wouldn’t be able to keep myself from crying when the pair parted in Australia!”

He blinks movie-theater darkness from his eyes, staring up at Satsuki, who nods her head. “I didn’t cry, but I got awfully close,” she admits. “The scene was ruined a little by the night sky. There would be no way you could see those constellations at that time of year in Australia.”

Senketsu just about leaps right off of Ryuko’s chest at that. “I was thinking the same!” he cries. He’s as bubbling with excitement as he would be after the best damn ironing in the world, and he pushes Ryuko to walk a bit more quickly so that they can keep up with Satsuki’s always-too-fast pace.

Ryuko only begrudgingly follows his lead, sipping those final bits of Calpis from her cup as obnoxiously as she can.

Neither Senketsu nor Satsuki make any note of it.

“The inaccuracy wasn’t enough to pull me out of the moment,” Senketsu goes on, now right beside Satsuki, “but it was a bit glaring.”

Satsuki nods some more in agreement, and if Ryuko weren’t so fed up over a silly movie, she might have found something amusing or funny or nice about how thoughtful Satsuki is over a thing she enjoyed.

Maybe even something sweet.

But now Ryuko’s just tired and it’s not so amusing or funny or nice or comfortable to be ignored by your clothes and your sister, and she only feels her irritation build inside her as Satsuki continues, “You would think the filmmakers would do more research for such a big-budget film!”

Satsuki shakes her head, frowning a bit, clutching her bag a bit tighter. “And there is also no way that robot could have moved so easily in the sand,” she adds. “It was shaped like a soccer ball.”

“And practically all of Earth’s satellites orbit the planet west to east, not east to west!” Senketsu and Satsuki say together.

They both break out laughing.

Ryuko throws away her empty cup into the nearest trash bin with a grimace.

“I had no idea you were so interested in astrophysics and astronomy, Senketsu,” Satsuki says. She’s now smiling a very strange smile that makes Ryuko just a bit uncomfortable.

Senketsu blushes—at least, Ryuko thinks that’s what he does, since she suddenly feels a lot warmer (and she was already hot enough to begin with in this 500-degree weather).

“Well, y-you know,” Senketsu tells Satsuki, “Ryuko and I have both been to space. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

And Satsuki just won’t quit it with that smile. Ryuko swears it’s only getting worse. Weirder.

“You should take a look at some of the books in the Kiryuin library,” Satsuki says. There’s that overeagerness to her tone that’s almost as uncomfortable as the ever-increasingly-uncomfortable look on her face, and she smiles a bit wider, adding, quickly, excitedly, “I think you would particularly like—“

And Ryuko can’t help herself. She groans.

“Jesus,” she whines. “If you wanna yap about this stuff so much, I don’t think I should be the one wearing Senketsu!”

And they all stop walking. Right there. Just like that.

An awkward silence falls over the three of them, and in retrospect, maybe Ryuko would admit that she maybe sounded a bit too fed up and pissed off.

But at the time, Ryuko feels more than justified in her outburst. Being dragged along in a conversation by your damn clothes isn’t exactly what she would call a good time.

Or comfortable.

But Senketsu hardly seems to mind the abrasiveness of Ryuko’s words. He just brings his full attention to her, his eyes wide.

“Would it really be okay?” he asks. “For Satsuki to wear me?”

And Ryuko can’t really find the words to answer right away. Senketsu can no doubt feel her heart fluttering, and she’s come to feel very, very, very hot—like, way more than the this-is-summer kind of hot.

But Ryuko eventually takes a deep breath, tryin’ to think a bit before she speaks. “Kamui Senketsu,” she says, using the most chastising mom-voice she can muster (even though she’s well aware that she is not convincing in the slightest), “I thought you finally got it through your head that you ain’t just some outfit.”

She pauses, on fire, and then gently, quietly, she adds, “You got a will all your own, Senketsu. You’re your own person.”

They’re still stopped in place. Senketsu can’t stop staring up at Ryuko, and Satsuki is staring, too.

Ryuko bites down on her lip, turning away. “And grown people don’t go around asking other grown people for permission to be with a grown person who ain’t them,” she continues, hastily, face flushing. “Well, at least, they shouldn’t! So you shouldn’t be askin’ me any of this.”

Nobody says anything. They stay standing obtrusively on the sidewalk, and Ryuko can’t help but feel even more embarrassed when she sees that Satsuki’s awkward, uncomfortable smile has shifted into something you’d see plastered on the face of some proud mom at her kid’s violin concert.

But Ryuko doesn’t get too long to fuss over that as Senketsu sighs against her, which she takes immediately as Senketsu-language that he’s gonna disagree with her, or something.

And he promptly does nothing of the sort.

“You’re right, Ryuko!” Senketsu declares. “I should be asking Satsuki if it’s all right!”

So Senketsu looks to Satsuki Kiryuin and the big weird smile that she’s now directing his way (that’s continuing to make Ryuko feel even more uncomfortable), and he asks, very nervously, “What do you say, Satsuki? Would you… wear me?”

Satsuki’s smile only grows. “I would be honored, Senketsu,” she says. “It has been too long. And I—“

Satsuki stops abruptly, meeting Ryuko’s eyes, her icky, uncomfortable smile falling into what Ryuko could only describe as shame.

“And I would love to wear you again,” Satsuki finishes, weakly.

And, well, now Ryuko’s mild (yes, mild) discomfort and annoyance has twisted into the desire to just throw up all the popcorn and Calpis she’d spent the last two hours focusing on rather than the kill-me-now kitsch that was the ridiculous movie she’d overpaid for (even if it was Ladies’ Day, she still always bought a ticket for Senketsu (and the hot mess wasn’t worth even a single yen, if you had to ask her opinion)).

It wasn’t like Satsuki was trying to be a bitch or anything—at least, Ryuko hopes so, anyway. But the reminder of that time just turns and turns Ryuko’s stomach.

She doesn’t let it on.

“Let’s get on with it, then!” she says. “Let’s go change right fuckin’ now.”

“Now?” Satsuki repeats.

“This minute?” Senketsu tries to clarify.

“Right now this minute,” Ryuko insists.

And, okay, maybe she sounds just a little done with them.

But Senketsu and Satsuki agree, however reluctantly.

The three decide to grab lunch at a nearby convenience store, but before they do any of that, they head into the restrooms to change.

Ryuko, for one, is quite glad that no one else is in the facilities when they step inside. Quiet and emptiness meet them in the bathroom (as well as a space that Ryuko has to admit is much cleaner than she would expect from a convenience store).

Ryuko sighs as she enters a stall with Senketsu. Without a word, Satsuki goes into the one right beside her, the door closing with a click.

And Ryuko sighs once more, surrounded by mustard-yellow walls and a gleaming toilet. Though she would never say it out loud—and though she knows she hasn’t even been with Senketsu a year yet—life without him by her side still feels like a gross, distant past, and the thought of walking out of here by herself is… strange.

Uncomfortable.

Ryuko would never say it makes her nervous, though. Never nervous.

Her heart must say otherwise.

“Ryuko…” Senketsu starts, looking up at her with big, concerned eyes.

But Ryuko turns away, pulling him off as aggressively and suddenly as she had the day his memory returned.

She talks fast. “Senketsu,” she groans, “y’know better than to get all chatty in the bathroom. People’ll think we’re doing weird shit in here.”

Senketsu falls to the bathroom floor, leaning up against the wall. “But there’s no one else in here, Ryuko…” he says.

“Whatever!” Ryuko says right back.

She flings open the door and shoos Senketsu out like a little lost child. “Sis,” she says, much more loudly than necessary, “open your door up so Senketsu can get over there.”

Ryuko awkwardly reaches one arm out of her stall, using the other to hold the door close to her (as though to cover herself from anyone who might happen to wander in, but why the hell she gives a shit about modesty anymore is beyond her).

“Also I’m holding my hand out for your clothes,” Ryuko adds. “So, like, just, uh, give ‘em to me, or somethin’.”

“Very well,” Satsuki answers, and very uncomfortably, very ungracefully, she successfully passes her clothes into Ryuko’s hands. (Of course, Satsuki’s prissy ensemble almost falls to the ground what feels like half a dozen times and Ryuko has to stretch her arm out the farthest it’ll go to get to them and there’s a bit of swearing involved, but somehow, they manage.)

And armed with a new outfit, Ryuko retreats back into her stall and locks the door with a frown. Maybe they shouldn’t have done this right now this minute after all. The thought of wearing her sister’s clothes has never seemed so unpleasant—uncomfortable—until she has them in her hands.

“Sats, you dress like such a mom,” Ryuko whines, pulling an ankle-length wrap skirt over herself. Rayon has never felt stranger to her after wearing little but Life Fiber and cotton pajamas for so long.

“And who the hell wears sweaters in the middle of summer?” Ryuko’s barely pulled the cream-colored knit over herself and already she feels hotter than hell.

But Satsuki isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to Ryuko’s complaints.

“Senketsu, you are lovely,” she says to Senketsu instead. “But I do think I’m a little old for sailor uniforms—don’t you think you are too, Ryuko?”

Ryuko’s frown deepens.

“I suppose you are still in high school…“ Satsuki muses.

Ryuko ties the slick white ribbon on the indigo skirt that now covers her into a sloppy bow. “Yeah, I am,” she grinds out. “So, what?”

Ryuko so doesn’t need this kind of patronizing bullshit right now. She fiddles with her sister’s clothes, trying—and failing—to look somewhat presentable. It’s more than obvious that nothing fits her quite right, and the sweater is the worst offender, hanging off her body loosely and awkwardly, the threads bunching up in a manner that’s way uncomfortable.

Deep inside, a part of Ryuko never even wants to leave this stall.

But she’d never let any of those feelings on.

“Do you not wanna wear Senketsu anymore, huh?” Ryuko finds herself asking. A familiar anger bubbles up inside—the kind that’d bring her to strip down to her underwear and take on a gun-toting, even-more-naked guy with just her fists. “I swear, Satsuki. I don’t care if you’re my sister. If you make Senketsu cry, I’ll—“

“And why would I ever do a thing like that?” Satsuki asks.

“I am not so prone to fits of crying!” Senketsu adds. He sounds so damn defensive that Ryuko doesn’t have to be anywhere near him to know that he’s got that hurt, put-upon look on his face.

Ryuko crosses her arms, leaning up against the mustard-yellow wall. “Hmph, excuuuse me for caring,” she says, feeling damn hot in the face, but Senketsu and Satsuki pay her no mind.

“You are an incredible person, Senketsu,” Satsuki is saying. “And I have been thinking. You are certainly more than a mere sailor uniform, so I know you are capable of looking like more, too.”

Senketsu stutters. “I-I…” he says, and though Ryuko can���t see, she imagines Satsuki giving him one of her uncomfortable, weird-o smiles.

“If we do something like Life Fiber synchronization,” Satsuki goes on, “then I know you can become whatever you like. Whatever suits you.”

“I’ve never done that before,” Senketsu says. His voice trembles in a way that Ryuko has hardly ever heard coming from him, and for some reason, it all makes Ryuko feel like she’s melting even more in this unseasonal sweater.

But she’d never say anything.

“I know you can do it,” Satsuki tells Senketsu. “Let’s try!”

“All right, Satsuki!” Senketsu says.

And before Ryuko knows it, together, as one, Senketsu and Satsuki shout out, “Life Fiber Synchronize!,” their words seeming to echo across the empty, desolate space around them.

And Ryuko sinks down to the bathroom floor (that probably isn’t quite as clean as she thought it was coming in) at the sound, letting her head fall against wall, wishing more than anything to tear this suffocating sweater off.

But she doesn’t.

And they laugh. Senketsu and Satsuki laugh more intensely than Ryuko even thought possible for the two of them.

“You look great!” Satsuki cries, when the laughter falls away. “This is exactly something I would put in my closet. How did you know?”

Senketsu can’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “I just gave it my best!” he says. “I saw what you gave Ryuko, and I thought, “If any ordinary clothes can look like that, then why can’t I?””

The stall beside Ryuko opens with a creak, and Ryuko hears her sister rush out with Senketsu, calling her name with that overeagerness that just serves to make Ryuko feel even surer that she’d love to never leave this stall.

But Satsuki insists. “You must see this,” she says. “Senketsu has done a fantastic job.”

“We did a fantastic job, Satsuki,” Senketsu butts in. “Remember, you are the one wearing me.”

So with a groan and a grumble, Ryuko rises to her feet, brushing down on Satsuki’s skirt and sweater and slowly, embarrassingly opening the stall door to reveal a sight that boggles the mind almost as much as the fact that human evolution was literally a thing just because of clothes aliens that wanted to eat them all.

Because her Senketsu… no longer looks like her Senketsu at all.

The outfit her sister wears before her is entirely foreign. Gone are the midriff-baring top, the suspenders, and mini skirt, replaced with a frilly, baby-blue button-up and a cozy-looking circle skirt in gray.

Ryuko wouldn’t even believe that the sight before her was her Senketsu at all, had she not looked towards the elaborate, floral pattern embellishing Satsuki’s collar and noticed, without a doubt, Senketsu’s warm eyes staring back at her.

She swallows very hard, feeling her face turn very, very red.

Satsuki smiles Ryuko’s way. “You ought to try this yourself sometime,” she says.

But Ryuko can only nod, dully, as Senketsu and Satsuki skitter to the bathroom mirrors and laugh and spin in front of the glass, complimenting each other and gushing about their teamwork.

In her head, Ryuko would admit that, well, okay, sure, maybe it is a bit jarring to hear Senketsu’s voice coming from somewhere other than her.

But she would never, ever admit that what leaves her firmly Not Hungry is the strange smile on her sister’s face and how Senketsu and Satsuki just can’t shut up. They’d gone right back to talking about that damn movie again, blathering on and on about this and that and how romantic!

Ryuko could hurl.

Somehow, though, Ryuko manages to at least nibble on her yakisoba-pan.

Then again, never in her life has convenience-store yakisoba stuffed in a hot dog bun tasted as bad as it does right now, as she sits next to Satsuki and Senketsu in the park and they act like some half-baked love story is worth more than a one-word review that just says, “Sucks.”

‘Course, Ryuko thinks, spending so long chewing the ends of a noodle that it quickly just tastes like mushy nothingness, Senketsu would tell her—all smugly and condescendingly—that it’s better to not eat much of this stuff. Junk food, he’d say. How can you expect to keep up your strength with that?

Least, he would say all that crap, if she were the one wearing him.

Ryuko sighs. It’s still summer and hot and sticky (and she’s still stuck with Satsuki’s sweater), but even she could admit that it’s a fine enough day. The sky is a rich, deep blue, the way the sun filters through the leaves is so picturesque that if Mako had come along she’d beg to take about a hundred photos, and sitting here in the shade surrounded by all this niceness—with a cool breeze fluttering by that should keep her from getting too overheated—would normally be great. Any other day, any other time, Ryuko would love to be where she is, eating cheap-o convenience store food with Senketsu and Satsuki beneath the trees.

But now, well. Now she’s never felt sicker. The yakisoba-pan seems to taunt her with its smell and pitiful, this-stuff-was-made-really-fast appearance, and it’s only when a bit of yakisoba slips from its bun and falls to the ground with a heavy splat that Senketsu and Satsuki take any note of Ryuko at all.

Senketsu looks her up and down at the noise (abruptly cutting off some conversation about space and time and love and who-knows-what).

“Ryuko,” he says, his voice filled with the kind of concern that makes Ryuko feel even more ready to just vomit all over the place, “are you all right? You’ve barely touched your food.”

More yakisoba drips from the bun to the ground, and Ryuko watches it fall, making absolutely no attempt to get it to stop. The cicadas are screaming and flies make their way to the dropped food, and, quietly, Ryuko stands herself up.

“It’s shit,” she says. Her voice is surprisingly calm for how much she wants to scream along with the cicadas, and as she makes her way to the nearest garbage can, she wonders when in the world she got this kind of self-control.

Ryuko stops before the bin. “I don’t want this crap,” she goes on, and without any feeling at all, she watches as the yakisoba-pan falls apart in the trash, the yakisoba spilling every which way, breaking away from the bun.

Ryuko takes her place back on the bench beside Satsuki and Senketsu. Satsuki frowns. Ryuko ignores it.

“I thought you’d like that I’m not eating that stuff,” she says. Ryuko meant to direct the words at Senketsu, but, well, actually, it probably applies to the both of ‘em.

Satsuki really didn’t like hearing about all the Cup Curry Rice and instant miso soup she ate before she lived with the Mankanshokus, after all…

And now, Satsuki just frowns harder—and it’s harder for Ryuko to ignore it—her caterpillar eyebrows furrowed in Concern. “Ryuko,” she starts, “are you—“

“I just wanna head home,” Ryuko blurts out. She supposes it’s true, but that doesn’t stop the blush creeping over her cheeks. “I-I mean,” she stutters, “it’s just been a long day, and I’m, uh, like really tired, and, uh…”

Satsuki stands with a graceful flourish and swish of Senketsu’s now long, gray skirt. “I see,” she says. “I suppose it is getting a bit late. I’d best return Senketsu to you, shouldn’t I?”

Satsuki’s sweater might as well be eating Ryuko alive. “Jesus,” she grumbles, looking away. “Senketsu ain’t fuckin’ mine. I don’t own ‘im. It’s Senketsu’s choice to do whatever he wants.”

Ryuko lets her eyes meet his, for just a moment. “Right, Senketsu?”

Satsuki’s blue top looks very suddenly a bit pink. Ryuko tries very hard to smile, though she’s not really looking at Satsuki and Senketsu anymore, and her effort probably just comes out seeming kinda fucked up and demonic.

“Look,” Ryuko says, standing up again herself, cracking her back as though she’s toootally cool with this whole situation (which she is, of course, definitely, absolutely, why wouldn’t she be?). “You two’re havin’ so much fun, so why don’t you stay with Satsuki for a change, Senketsu?”

The words fall out before Ryuko can even stop herself, and both Senketsu and Satsuki stare at her wide-eyed.

Well, Ryuko would be happy to join her fallen yakisoba and the screaming cicadas right about now.

But she can’t stop it with the incessant, worthless blubbering. “Y-Y’know,” she says, trying very hard—and failing even harder—to hide the twitter in her voice, “I was just thinking about how nice it’d be to spend some time away from obnoxious outfits!”

Satsuki and Senketsu exchange worried glances.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Senketsu asks.

“I don’t need ya babysitting me!” Ryuko says—well, shouts, more like, which just serves to make Satsuki’s frown become even more intense.

Ryuko sighs, and more quietly, more calmly, she adds, “’Sides, you should be askin’ Satsuki if it’s all right, not me.”

So up Senketsu’s eyes go, to his wearer. “Would you mind if I stayed the night with you?” he asks.

“Not at all,” answers Satsuki. “But—“

Ryuko claps her hands together. “Well, I am just so glad we got that figured out!” she says. Her attention falls to the baggy, ill-fitting ensemble dripping off her body. “I’ll return these mom-clothes to ya when we meet up again.”

Satsuki doesn’t even react to Ryuko’s insults. She says, “Are you sure—“

But Ryuko storms away without waiting to hear the rest, waving a hand behind her.

“You guys just have fun,” she says, even as she hears Senketsu call her name and Satsuki mutter something or other that she can’t especially make out.

And, okay, sure. The walk back from downtown has never seemed so long.

Fine. Ryuko would admit that much.

Slouching and dragging her feet along the sidewalk, Ryuko keeps herself distracted by kicking along pebbles and listening for the click, click, clicks as they hop across the pavement. Whenever she loses a pebble to the grass or the streets, she picks out another on her path to hit along instead. Ryuko never seems to hold on to a stone for more than fifteen sidewalk squares, and maybe another time that’d annoy her, but she’s got more than enough eating at her now.

It’s not that she’s jealous, of course, Ryuko thinks. Satsuki just doesn’t know how to wash Senketsu right and ain’t got a clue about how he likes to be ironed and maybe Satsuki would hurt herself wearing Senketsu for so long in that weird state because Senketsu was designed for her after all and she’s just concerned, okay?

Ryuko loses another pebble on her walk. This one can’t even have lasted five sidewalk squares, and she pauses on her way, groaning, trying to find another.

But it seems this sidewalk is fresh out of pebbles, and Ryuko ain’t got anything even close to the patience or energy or care to go pick out the one she lost to the grass.

So she’ll just deal with it, she thinks. If Senketsu and Satsuki come cryin’ back to her in the morning, then she could at least say that they’d tried.

Ryuko almost-smiles at the thought. Things are gonna be okay. It’s not like Senketsu is gonna…

Well, Ryuko doesn’t get the chance to ponder anymore on that. Seemingly out of nowhere, she’s attacked with a loud, energetic, over-peppy shout from none other than Mako Mankanshoku.

“Lady Satsuki!” the girl cries. She promptly throws down the yellow sponge she’d been using to clean the family car and rushes to where Ryuko stands, her arms outstretched for a hug.

“I didn’t know you’d be coming to visit!” Mako goes on, but her smile quickly falls as she gets a better look at the very not-Satsuki Kiryuin with the too-big, uncomfortable clothes and ordinary eyebrows and wild hair that will never sit flat, no matter how hard you might try.

“Oh, it’s you, Ryuko,” Mako says, frowning a bit. “Why’re you all dressed up like Satsuki? Where’s Senketsu?”

Ryuko feels her stomach churn. She barely even ate that yakisoba-pan, but she might just throw it all up right now.

She doesn’t.

“Oh,” she says, trying very hard to sound casual, but Satsuki’s clothes don’t have pockets or even little pouches like Senketsu does, so she can’t oh-so-nonchalantly fiddle with something as though the conversation they’re having is no big deal at all (which it isn’t, of course, why would it be?).

She ends up rolling up the sleeves of Satsuki’s sweater, like she’s getting ready for a fist fight. “Well, Senketsu n’ Satsuki just decided to hang out a little while longer, that’s all,” she explains.  

And Ryuko smiles, sort of, melting in this horrible sweater more than ever.

And Mako’s mouth falls wide open.

“You mean that Satsuki is wearing Senketsu?!” she bursts out. “Are you sure that’s okay, Ryuko?”

Ryuko flushes, turning her head away from Mako. “Why wouldn’t it be?” she asks. “Senketsu is his own person, you know.”

Mako can’t stop looking at her funny, but eventually nods her head sagely. “Okay, Ryuko,” she says, very matter-of-fact, very knowingly. “Your secret is safe with me!” She winks, offering Ryuko a wide-toothed grin, but now it’s Ryuko’s turn to have her own mouth fall open.

“My what now?” she gasps. “Mako, don’t tell me that you still think that Senketsu n’ me—“

“It’s okay, Ryuko!” Mako repeats, patting Ryuko on the back as they walk towards their home. “You don’t have to hide anything from me!”

Ryuko sighs. It’s still one ear and out the other with this family sometimes, but she supposes she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Why don’t I help you with the car?” Ryuko asks, smiling for real now. “It’s… partly my fault that it’s all covered in blood, after all.” (Only partly, though. It’s not her fault that overpass bridges aren’t nearly as high as they should be.)

Mako nods her head eagerly, handing Ryuko an oversized sponge.

Okay, but maybe there’s still something that’s just kinda-sorta odd as hell about changing into pajamas at night and not hearing a peep from Senketsu.

Ryuko steals a glance at the bathroom mirror before going to wash Satsuki’s clothes. Her hair’s just as all-over-the-place as ever, and, feebly, Ryuko brings a hand to her head to push the wild strands down.

It all just fluffs back up again in moments.

Of course.

It’s not like Ryuko would like her hair all flat and silky and refined like Satsuki, though. No way in hell. She’s not that boring, and it’s not her fault if Senketsu’s so boring that he prefers the boring-boringness of Satsuki Kiryuin over her.

Unlike that sister of hers, Ryuko doesn’t have some stick up her ass and isn’t some lame-old fine lady who drinks tea and acts all proper-like and you can tell that even from her hair and…

She’s not jealous, okay?!

Ryuko rushes out from the bathroom with Satsuki’s clothes clutched too tightly in her hands, her fingers digging into the fabric and threads. She scrambles over to the wash tub and throws the garments down more furiously than she should, and fills the basin more viciously than she should, and adds more of Mrs. Mankanshoku’s laundry detergent than she should, and when she goes to scrub out all her sweat and stench, she scrubs much more aggressively than she should, too.

If it were Senketsu she were washing, he’d be screaming and crying at her to “be gentle!” and to “quit it!,” but these clothes say nothing and Ryuko’s just fine with that!

But when Ryuko hangs Satsuki’s too-big, ugly sweater and prissy, ankle-length skirt to dry on the line, and when she heads to bed, there’s an odd sensation that overtakes her, one that she can’t especially explain. It’s a bit out-of-body, a bit surreal, a bit uncomfortable, and when Ryuko pulls her polka-dotted blanket over herself, a part of her hopes that it has only been a dream, this entire atrocity of a day. She’d wake up in the morning and look to the wardrobe and there wouldn’t be an empty hanger anymore and…

And what the hell is her problem, anyway? She’s not five years old anymore, Ryuko tells herself, calling her dad from her dorm every night and twisting that damn phone wire ‘round and ‘round her fingers as he doesn’t pick up. She’s not fifteen anymore, listening to punk-ass bitches she woulda swore were on her side talking shit about her (and going outta her way to break more noses than anyone probably should).

But when Ryuko pulls her sheets completely over her head, to cover herself in total darkness, to hide away from her family and a shadowed wardrobe and abandoned hanger, sleep still only comes to her in short, nightmarish fragments full of Maiko Ogure and Fight Club and dinners all alone.

On July 8th, long before morning, Ryuko wakes with her heart racing and her body slick with sweat, and she sits up quickly, holding a hand over her mouth.

Her pajamas stick uncomfortably to her skin, but it’s not nearly as uncomfortable as the horrible ache in her stomach. That yakisoba-pan’s getting to her, or maybe it’s the Calpis, or the popcorn, but whatever it is, Ryuko needs the toilet.

Now.

She hurries to her feet, careful to step around her family’s sleeping forms as she hops straight to the bathroom, where she promptly throws on the lights and shoves her head over the toilet bowl.

Her mouth falls open. She coughs and gags, and hardly keeps herself quiet. However selfish it is, nothing else matters right now besides getting this shit out of her.

But nothing comes. Ryuko’s stomach feels ready to explode, but nothing comes.

With a groan, she leans away from the bowl, unsure if she should sit around here and wait for the inevitable vomit flood or try to sleep again, but she pauses as she catches her reflection in the water.

She nearly screams, too, when she sees the white gloves that have covered her hands.

“No…” Ryuko mumbles, shooting up to her feet.

But the cracked, murky bathroom mirror confirms everything. Her hair is even wilder than usual, spiking up unnaturally—so much so that no amount of pressing down or water or hell, even gravity could tame it—and it’s streaked with red and blue, adorned with twisted silver that juts out from her scalp.

And it laughs at her. Her entire appearance laughs at her.

“Come on, Ryuko…” her reflection says. It has the most shit-eating grin on its face, and its eyes are wild and manic, the lids painted scarlet. “Did you really think he would want to stick with you?”

It laughs some more, and Ryuko backs away. She leans against the wall, pulling at the blue-edged collar that brushes uncomfortably against her cheeks, but it’s stuck, stitched on, and this time, no amount of tearing or snapping seems to get it to budge.

The expression in the mirror darkens. “You’re so damn annoying,” it says. “Actin’ all high n’ mighty, like you can jus’ get away with anything you want ‘cause you think you deserve it.”

Ryuko stops struggling. Her reflection glowers. “But here’s the thing, princess. You can’t erase what you did.”

It smiles once more, and Junketsu only seems to hold Ryuko tighter, its fabric pulling her so close that it’s suffocating.

And Ryuko can’t say anything, as her reflection laughs in her face, and Junketsu screams, and the white gloves won’t go away.

And she still can’t say anything, as blood covers the mirror and splatters over her, and she sees in the glass the blurry image of Senketsu drenched in red.

And so it is on July 8th that Ryuko really wakes with Senketsu’s name on her lips.

She only barely manages to keep herself from shouting out, clamping a hand over her mouth before she can make any sound at all.

It’s late—or disgustingly early (Ryuko can’t say she can tell). The house is as quiet as it ever gets, filled with only the distant sounds of the screaming cicadas and the gentle rumble of her family’s snores, and it’s so dark that Ryuko can hardly tell that the hanger perched on the wardrobe is empty.

She pulls her hand away from her mouth, staring down at her blanket, ignoring the uncomfortable, too-hot feeling she has on account of her shit sleep tonight and her shit dreams.

And nervously, twittery, Ryuko bunches and bunches her sheets up in her hands, smiling a little, knowing that any other time, Senketsu would tell her to wear his glove “for protection against the nightmares!” right about now, and she’d say back (like always) that he’s being ridiculous and she doesn’t know where he got it in his head to spout out that kinda crap.

But she’d do what he said anyway. Of course she would. Of course she would.

And of course Senketsu would rather be with someone who never betrayed him and treated him well and Senketsu and Satsuki had even come up with Senjin-Shippu together and that’s something she hadn’t considered and it’s not Senketsu’s fault that she’s terrible and he’s tired of putting up with it, right?

Ryuko shakes her head, falling back into bed. No, no, she thinks, Satsuki and Senketsu can’t possibly get along like she and Senketsu can, of course not, no way, Senketsu was made for her after all, isn’t that right, and after those two spend one night together they’ll realize that—

That what?

Ryuko turns over to her side, facing away from the wardrobe and towards Mako, who sleeps just as heavily as usual. Piles of drool puddle up across Mako’s pillow, and normally, any other day, Ryuko would inch away at the sight of all that spit.

But now, tonight, Ryuko is instead filled with a sense of longing. If only she could get some sleep.

And then she just kinda wants to swear at the top of her lungs at the thought.

What the hell is she sittin’ around moping about? It’s not that she’s jealous or anything petty like that and tomorrow everything will return to how it was anyway and besides there are just ways that things should be and Senketsu being with Satsuki all night isn’t how things should be and Ryuko can’t sleep only ‘cause she’s been horribly amused this whole time ‘cause it’s just so damn funny and there’s a natural order to stuff and—

Okay, maybe that’s not the best way to put it.

She’s just—she’s not jealous, right?

Right?

Ryuko turns over once more, back towards the abandoned hanger glistening in the starlight, and no matter how much she tells herself that it’s nothing and she’s fine and it’s not like that (of course it’s not), she can’t sleep for the rest night, tossing and turning even worse than she did right before she first faced Satsuki all decked out in that piece-of-shit Junketsu.

It’s only when streaks of morning punch her in the face that Ryuko thinks back to her dreams and Junketsu and then Senketsu covered in blood that she knows it’s not jealousy at all, what’s kept her up all night.

But the truth certainly doesn’t make her feel any better, and if she could only get some damn sleep, she’d just stay in bed all day.

Easily.

But at 6:17 AM, Ryuko gives it up. She forces herself out from the warmth and comfort of her sheets—‘cause of course Satsuki would be wide awake at that godawful time in the morning—and she punches in the number of Satsuki’s cell on the phone, pulling the cord with her ‘til both she and the phone are outside.

Cool summer air hits Ryuko’s skin and the sound of ringing hits her ear and she shudders at the thought of figuring out what exactly she’s going to say.

Just seein’ if you survived one night of my obnoxious outfit, she thinks. Just checkin’ up to make sure yer not dead.

The more Ryuko considers, the more ridiculous it all sounds.

The more Ryuko thinks about it, the more uncomfortable everything feels.

But Satsuki picks up before long, gigging incessantly. “This is Satsuki,” she says, still laughing. “Hush, Senketsu! It’s important to keep a proper presence on the phone!”

Well, that certainly doesn’t make Ryuko feel any better. She blanches, clutching the phone wire tight.

“You sound well,” Ryuko says, dully. Faintly, Ryuko hears Senketsu laugh, too, and it takes everything she has to hide the hurt in her voice as she adds, “Senketsu sounds great, too.”

“Oh, yes,” says Satsuki, trying—and failing—to keep her tone level and free of giggles. “We are both doing quite well, Ryuko. And how are you?”

Ryuko doesn’t get a chance to really answer (and it’s not like she would want to, anyway). Satsuki seems to turn her full attention to Senketsu right then, and the phone line is filled with incoherent fuzz and split-off conversations and laughter and Ryuko could really be throwing up now, probably?

But she doesn’t.

“Forgive me, Ryuko,” Satsuki eventually says, after an annoyingly-loud throat clearing. “Senketsu would like to talk to you, but I’m not quite sure about the best way to get him to speak over the phone—“

The line fills up once more with laughter. And fuzz. Tons and tons of fuzz.

Ryuko pulls her head away from the speaker, groaning.

“Okay!” Satsuki says soon enough, very loudly, as though she is far away. “I’ve put the phone against Senketsu. Can you hear him?”

Ryuko scowls. “I can just hear you, actually.”

“Very funny, Ryuko,” comes Senketsu. His voice is still a bit fuzzy, but it’s clear enough that Ryuko can tell that he is in high spirits. There’s a bounce in his tone—the kind he gets when he’s being ironed or when they go flying in Senketsu-Shippu.

And Ryuko didn’t even think it was possible at this point, but her own spirits fall below the ground and straight into the Earth’s core at that. She can’t find anything to say back to Senketsu, standing with the old landline phone held up against her face and her fingers nervously twirling and twirling the coiled wire, her whole body burning hot no matter the chill, early-morning summer breeze that can’t stop hitting her.

Senketsu must notice. Of course he does.

“Are you all right, Ryuko?” he asks, all kindness and worry, and Ryuko can only clench her fist around the phone wire at the sound of it.

“’Course I am,” she says, so loudly that she might-probably be bothering the too-close neighbors whose houses are just about rammed up against her own. “In fact, it was so nice to get a break from your annoying ass!”

Ryuko spits onto the ground, scoffing like she’s about to go fight up against the latest competitor ever. “I think you should stay with Satsuki longer!” she says.

Senketsu is quiet. Ryuko’s heart races in her chest. Well, it is nice to get away from how he can read shit like that so easily.

Not like being distanced really stops him, though, and he says, very Concerned, “Ryuko, are you—“

And Ryuko clutches the phone wire so hard she might just have to invest in a new one again.

“I said you should just stay with Satsuki longer, didn’t I?!”

She doesn’t wait to hear anything more. Ryuko busts back into the house, slamming the phone down with a too-loud huff, her face very red and her heart still beating way too quickly.

If this is the way it’s gonna be, she thinks, it’s completely fine! It’s more than fine! She’s just so incredibly, wonderfully fucking fine!

And maybe Ryuko would just simmer in her complete and total fine-ness, but a knock sounds on the door before she even knows it, startling all her thoughts and leaving her suddenly very aware of the fact that she’s breathing hard and fuming after talking with her clothes on the phone at 6:30 in the morning.

But something tells her that the door is for her, so Ryuko makes her way over, giving absolutely no shits about how her hair must be even worse than usual and giving even less shits about how the strands really oughta be stickin’ up in fifty different directions and she also doesn’t give any shits about how she hasn’t changed out of her pajamas and she definitely, absolutely, 100% doesn’t fucking care about the dark circles that must be drooping off her eyes because she slept worse than garbage and would probably just fall over if she weren’t so fine right about now.

So Ryuko opens the door, looking very much like the trash she slept like, only to see none other than Senketsu and Satsuki themselves.

And she promptly slams the door in their faces.

Satsuki wrenches it right back open. Ryuko scowls.

“You really flew all the way over here?” she asks. She tastes the nasty-ass morning breath in her mouth, and she hopes it smells just as bad as it feels. “What the fuck for?”

Well, that makes Satsuki look quite Exasperated. “What for?” she repeats. “Because of this sight before me!” She gestures up and down at Ryuko, her motions uncharacteristically sloppy and frenzied—but completely-characteristically full of Concern.

Ryuko only feels her irritation grow. “Says the one wearing Senketsu around like that in the middle of the street,” she says, dully.

But neither Satsuki nor Senketsu are really paying any attention to her anymore, quite content with talking among themselves as though Ryuko isn’t even there.

“I told you,” Senketsu is saying, his voice obnoxiously matter-of-fact, like his I’m-only-a-year-old ass really knows more than anyone else, “Ryuko needs someone to keep her in check. It was selfish of me to leave her alone all night.”

Satsuki frowns. Ryuko could spontaneously combust. Mako tells her people have done that at her dad’s “hospital” before. It’s possible.

But she doesn’t.

Satsuki says, “Senketsu, but what if it’s simply the stress of—“

And Ryuko can’t take another word. “I am right fucking here,” she says—well, just-about-screams-to-the-heavens, more like. “You wanna say something about my appearance or whatever the hell else, you can say it to my fucking face! Or blow it out your fucking ass!”

And Satsuki raises one of her giant caterpillar-butt eyebrows at Ryuko at that outburst. “Ryuko, as your older sister, I am just concerned—“

And, well, Ryuko doesn’t wait to any more. She slams the door on the two of them (again), fuming. She would have thought that this patronizing crap was behind Satsuki ever since the two of them had figured out their blood connection, but now she’s half-convinced that this shit has just become even worse: it’s gone from just patronizing to the kind of garbage, over-protective, big-sister, patronizing for your own good crap.

And it’s just made even worse when added on to Senketsu’s already worry-warty self.

And it’s only after Ryuko has stood still for a good few seconds that she notices the entire Mankanshoku family behind her.

“Don’t say anything,” she says, and she storms off into the main room before they even have a chance to stop her, as if she could really get away that easily, grimacing as she catches the sight of Satsuki and Senketsu in the window.

Ryuko slams that shut in their faces, too.

Doesn’t stop them from running their mouths, though.

“Senketsu would like to say that he cares about you very much, Ryuko!” Satsuki shouts, her voice just as loud as it had been when she’d spouted out orders from the top of Honnouji Academy. (Her tone is just as irritatingly commandeering and contentious, too.)

“And Satsuki loves you very much herself!” Senketsu adds.

“We’ll be back in the morning!” they shout together, and though Ryuko doesn’t watch, she hears them fly away, chattering among themselves, and she falls back to her sheets at the sound of it, pulling the covers up ‘til her shoulders.

Well, there’s no way she’s going to school today. No way, no way, no way.

But Mako is in the room in only a moment, peering over at Ryuko with big bug eyes. “Ryuuuuko,” she says, leaning over, her hair brushing up against her neck, “we have to get ready to go or we’ll be late again!”

Ryuko pulls the covers completely over. “I’m sick,” she says. She turns the farthest away she can from Mako, scowling to herself.

“Yeah, heartsick!” Mako cries. With a great huff, she pulls Ryuko’s sheets away and scowls a scowl that could rival Ryuko’s own, refusing to let Ryuko grab back her covers (no matter how much Ryuko’s hands reach over to snatch them back from Mako’s grip).

“Ryuko, you can’t cure your heartache moping around here, so stop it! You’re not gonna win the fight for Senketsu’s heart lying around here on the floor all day!”

Well, that brings Ryuko right up to her feet.

“The what?!” she gasps, hardly keeping herself from falling over.

Mako gets very, very close to Ryuko’s face.

“You heard me!” she shouts. “The. Fight. For. Senketsu’s. Heart!”

Ryuko’s mouth falls open. Her face burns.

Mako can’t stop staring at her with starry eyes.

“Two sisters,” Mako says, dreamily, “torn apart by love! What tragedy! What horror!”

Ryuko could die.

She doesn’t.

“Okay, first of all, there is nothing appealing about that kinda situation,” Ryuko manages to say. “But you’re misunderstandin’ again. It’s not—“

“You don’t have to lie to me, Ryuko!” Mako cries. She drapes a dramatic arm across her forehead, shutting her eyes and leaning over as though the weight of what’s going on is too much to handle.

“I see the way you look at Senketsu!” she says. “I see—“

And Ryuko promptly snatches her blanket back from the distracted Mako and pushes herself right back under them. “I’msickandstayinginbed,” she says, but Mako lifts her up as though she’s nothing, the covers falling away.

“W-what are you doing?!” Ryuko blubbers. She struggles to break free, but Mako’s grip doesn’t let up one bit.

“I’m rooting for you!” Mako declares. “You are going to win this war! I’ll make sure of it!”

Mako brings Ryuko right into the bathroom and plops her flat down onto a chair that seems to have come from nowhere because Ryuko is sure it wasn’t there last night and she’s slept like shit and—

God, all she wants right now is just to sleep.

Ryuko sighs (for what feels like the millionth time in the last 24 hours). “Look,” she starts to say, but she stops pretty abruptly when she catches sight of her reflection in the mirror.

Oh, she thinks. She does look horrible. For real.

Her hair is sticking up in every direction, defying all logic, reason, and, well, that gravity thing. It seems more than impossible to have just woken up like that, but there her hair hangs above her, a frizzy, wild mass of human and Life Fiber and…

Right. Maybe it’s not so weird, being what she is.

Ryuko turns away, quiet. There’s only so much lookin’ at herself that she can stand, especially when her pajamas are crinkled and too tight and falling off at the same time and her face is all red and her eyes are all bloodshot like she’s been crying but she hasn’t been cryin’ not a bit not even a little she hasn’t she—

And Ryuko is quite quickly forced to notice that Mako’s taken a wet brush to her hair. She gasps suddenly, breaking herself away from her thoughts, grimacing as cold water drips down her neck and forehead.

“…and once Senketsu sees how popular you are,” Mako is saying, and Ryuko realizes all at once that she hasn’t heard a word of whatever the heck Mako had been goin’ on about up to this point, “he’ll see just what he’s missing and come running right back! He’ll see that he’s your uniform and only yours!”

“But he’s not,” Ryuko says. The words come out much calmer than she had expected, and even she is surprised by the composed tone she’s taken on. “He’s not mine. He can do whatever he wants…”

Mako pauses in her furious brushing of Ryuko’s hair. “And date anyone he wants?” she asks. “Look deep inside yourself, Ryuko! You don’t want Senketsu with anyone but you and you know it! You have to fight!”

Ryuko feels her hair deflate—and not from Mako’s brushing “Why would I have to do that?” she asks. “It’s his life.”

“But what about your life?!” Mako cries. She stands before Ryuko, placing her hands firmly on Ryuko’s shoulders, squeezing, tight. “Ryuko, you deserve happiness with Senketsu!”

Ryuko pushes Mako’s hands away, her touch gentle. “You’re still misunderstanding,” she says, and then she smiles a little, as much as she can. “Senketsu and I aren’t like that at all.”

“But—“ Mako tries, her eyes very wide, but Ryuko squeezes Mako’s hands now, and the girl quiets.

“We’re not like that,” Ryuko repeats. She stands, and Mako doesn’t try to stop her as she leaves the bathroom, her hair dripping icy water that falls to the floor and across her pajama top, and as she prepares herself for the day.

She’s fine, Ryuko tells herself. There’s no reason to stay in bed. She and Senketsu aren’t anything like that at all, so what reason is there to be upset? To sit around mopin’ all day?

None. No reason at all!

So why is it, Ryuko thinks, as she sits in class that day, and hastily finishes her homework, and unenthusiastically jams food into her mouth at lunch, that she can’t stop thinking of him? Why is it that every classmate that passes her by reminds her of him, and his stupid comfortable fabric, and reminds her of how he isn’t there to talk with her anymore, and to tell her to calm down, and—

Mako’s gasp breaks through Ryuko’s thoughts. It takes Ryuko a moment to realize that the hamburger steak between her chopsticks had fallen right to the ground.

“How horrible!” Mako cries. She frowns at Ryuko, her expression very serious. “Ryuko, you have got to talk to Senketsu!” she pleads. “Otherwise, there will be more unnecessary food death!”

Ryuko scoffs. “Food death?” she repeats. “Aren’t you just going to eat that anyway?”

Mako already has the fallen bit of steak in her hand, and she turns a bit red at Ryuko’s accusation. “T-that doesn’t matter!” she insists, jamming the hamburger steak into her mouth. “You still have to talk to Senketsu!”

“I’m glad to get a break from that obnoxious know-it-all,” Ryuko answers, just as she has been this whole time, poking chopsticks into her smiling tako sausage, but she drops some lettuce and tomato to the ground before lunch is over, and she can’t pay any attention at all to her afternoon classes, no matter how much she knows she ought to be thinking about end-of-term exams.

On July 8th, Mrs. Mankanshoku prepares a bath for Ryuko after dinner, just as she always does.

“Take as long as you like, dear,” she says, extra sweetly, more so than usual, and Ryuko tries very hard to hide her embarrassment.

She just wasn’t hungry, she wants to say. That’s the only reason why she just pecked at her food more than she ate it.

But Ryuko still spends an extra-extra-long time in the bath, drenching herself in the horrible, wonderful stench of cucumber and vanilla, trying to let herself believe that it’d be enough to make her feel better, and to quell her fears, and to allow her to imagine, just for a moment, that she is not alone.

And maybe it would have worked, if Mako hadn’t caught Ryuko returning Mrs. Mankanshoku’s homemade laundry detergent to its proper place.

Mako looks Ryuko up and down then, her eyes catching on Ryuko’s wet hair and the detergent pail still clutched in her hands.

“Ryuko,” she says, very slowly. “What were you doing?”

“Taking a bath,” Ryuko answers. Her grip around the detergent pail tightens. She feels very hot.

Very uncomfortable.

“With Mom’s laundry detergent?” Mako asks. She frowns, only for her eyes to get so big that Ryuko becomes half-convinced that they’ll bug right outta her face.

“Oh. My. God!” Mako cries. She gets very close to Ryuko’s face, that bug-eyed look still very much staying put. “Your love for Senketsu is so strong, you even want to smell like him! How romantic!

Mako’s expression darkens. “How tragic!”

And Ryuko is so exhausted and overwhelmed that she can’t find it in her to even be surprised or offended at Mako’s outburst.

She just stands very still, her hair dripping, her grip on the laundry detergent slipping.

What was she even doing?

Mako takes a hold of Ryuko’s free hand. “Ryuko,” she says, “you have got to fight! Fight for your love!”

Somehow, Ryuko manages to shake her head. “You’ve got it all wrong,” she tells Mako, for what must be the umpteenth time. “It’s just, I’m… I’m part-clothes, right? So who says I even can love, huh? And-and, who says I should even use human stuff in my baths, huh? Maybe I shoulda been usin’ laundry detergent my whole damn—“

And Mako quite abruptly takes Ryuko by the shoulders. “Do you want me to iron you now, too?!” she cries. She’s got a wild, almost manic look to her now, her big brown eyes wider than ever. “Ryuko, listen to yourself! You can’t replace Senketsu by being him! You are Ryuko! You aren’t Senketsu! You have to fight, fight, fight!”

Ryuko looks away. “Fight for what?” she asks.

And Mako looks more than ready to spout on and on about that, but Ryuko’s grip on the laundry detergent just so happens to slip completely right then, and the pail falls to the ground, dumping laundry powder all over the floor.

“Shit,” Ryuko says at the sight, and she groans, and she falls to the ground herself, to pick up the mess she made, but something about that damn tipped-over, rejected laundry detergent pail and the scattered powder brings a sob to her throat, and she clasps a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.

Mako softens at the sight, not even hesitating to crouch down beside Ryuko, wrapping gentle arms around her.

“Ryuko,” she says, and there is none of the dramatic flair or fighting spirit in her tone any longer, “you have to talk to him.”

Ryuko dully nods her head. She swallows back her tears, calms her breathing. “Yeah,” she says, quietly. “Yeah. You’re right.”

And shyly, she brings her own arms around Mako, and returns the hug.

It’s not until the late evening that Ryuko sums up the courage to call Senketsu, and she stands a long moment before the phone, her hair now dried, the stench of cucumber and vanilla filling her ‘til she feels sick.

Mako gives her two thumbs up. Ryuko takes a deep breath, reaching her hand for the phone…

And the phone promptly rings as soon as her skin makes contact with the cheap plastic.

Ryuko picks it up, hesitantly. Mako scurries away with a grin.

“Hello?”

There’s silence, and then, quietly, “Ryuko.”

Senketsu. Ryuko can’t help herself. She freezes up at the sound, twirling the phone wire in her fingers.

“Senketsu,” she says, “I…”

She doesn’t know what to say. Ryuko swallows, shuts her eyes. It’s so much different over the phone. She just wishes… she just wishes…

“I’m worried about you,” Senketsu says for Ryuko, filling the space. “Satsuki is, too. We’re going to come over in the morning.”

Ryuko manages a laugh. She acts like it’s a surprise, like she hadn’t heard them declare that they were coming back just this morning.

“Again?” she asks. “You were just here!” She tries to force another one of her lies, that she’d hoped they’d stay away a little while longer no matter what they’d said before, because she was just starting to get used to all the peace and quiet she got without his annoying ass around.

But Ryuko can’t do it anymore, and she’s silent, her mouth dry.

“We have… something to tell you,” Senketsu says, and Ryuko doesn’t get any time to react to that as he shouts a hasty, “Goodbye!” and the line goes dead.

Ryuko takes a long moment before she puts down the phone, and when she finally forces herself to, she does it slowly, quietly, standing horribly still.

It’s only when she sees Mako in the corner of her eye that she grits her teeth together, her hands folding into fists.

“Well,” Ryuko says, much more loudly than needed, “if there was a fight here, I sure got my ass handed to me!”

Mako’s smile falls, and she is uncharacteristically quiet, and she stays that way as they prepare themselves for bed—for sleep that Ryuko knows will never come.

Something to tell you, she thinks.

So, it’s true after all.

Morning takes too long to come.

Ryuko rises as soon as she sees the first glimmers of light, stepping quietly outside to watch the sunrise.

She pushes away the thoughts of Senketsu watching the sunrise with her when she couldn’t get any rest.

She pushes away the thoughts of wearing his glove to bed.

She pushes away the thoughts of sleeping with her hand over her heart, to keep that worry wart satisfied with the sound of her heart.

Ryuko absolutely, positively, most-definitely does not think about any of that shit as scarlet and orange and dandelion-yellow light up the sky, so she doesn’t know why her face is wet when she comes back into the house and why her insides are so twisted up with her real issue here that she can barely breathe.

She wipes her face as quickly as she can muster when she sees Mako already awake.

“You’re up early,” she blubbers, as nonchalantly as she can (which is about as “nonchalant” as a Mako ten centimeters away from an all-you-can-eat buffet).

Mako pays Ryuko’s tone no mind, though. “Of course I’m up, silly!” she says. She seems to want to be whispering ‘cause the rest of her family’s still asleep, but there’s a kind of bubbly excitement in her that has it so she’s just-about shouting. “I have to help you get prettied up!”

“Prettied up?” Ryuko repeats.

“Of. Course!” Mako cries. She takes her hands from behind her back, revealing one of the new frilly outfits she’d gotten on one of their shopping trips.

Mako shakes the fabric with a grin, and Ryuko doesn’t have the chance to say or do anything as Mako grabs her by the hand and rushes her to the bathroom with an over-eager, “Come on!”

Ryuko only manages to escape Mako’s makeover to open the door for Satsuki and Senketsu, but by that time, it’s already too late. Her hair is tied back into two girlish pigtails, and to make her even more of an eyesore, they’re all held up by pink ribbons that match the oversized bows on the frilly, ruffly, pink-and-purple dress drenched in lace that Mako had begged her to put on.

Her entire ensemble also matches her bubblegum-pink lipstick.

“You’re going to wear clothes so cute that Senketsu’ll be green with envy!” Mako had said. “And the rest of you will be even cuter! He won’t be able to resist!”

And, well, Ryuko thinks she must actually look like some ridiculous cosplayer who’s lost her way to her convention—and she’s probably a million times more uncomfortable than a girl in that situation, too—but she pulls open the door for Satsuki and Senketsu in the ridiculous get-up all the same. (And tries very hard to ignore their wide-eyed stares.)

“So, what’s so important that you had to come all the way over here to tell me about?” Ryuko asks, as casually as she can muster, but she knows that she can only sound so casual when she’s wearing an outfit and makeup more fit for a magical girl anime than reality.

And she can only be so casual when she knows that Senketsu has decided to leave her for Satsuki.

For good.

She clenches her fist at the thought.

Satsuki can’t stop with the staring. Neither can Senketsu. He’s a navy blue dress today, not too unlike his usual self (though, being on Satsuki, his fabric falls to her ankles, of course), and his eyes rest on a red scarf that Satsuki has tied around her head as a headband.

“Well, Ryuko,” Satsuki eventually manages to say, averting her eyes oddly, “I think… Senketsu would like to sit down, for this.”

“Well, Senketsu can tell me that himself, can’t he?” Ryuko asks in a huff, but she softens a bit as Satsuki holds out a bag for her.

“I know it’s a bit early,” Satsuki says, “but I made these for you earlier this morning. I hope you like them, and that they’re still warm.”

Ryuko takes the gift with a heavy heart. A consolation prize, huh?

Part of Ryuko wants to be angry at the gesture, but she only feels a mixture of guilt and pity and shame when Satsuki explains, “It’s nothing much, but I thought you would like some homemade yakisoba-pan after the other day.”

Ryuko swallows the lump in her throat as she peers inside and sees the neatest fucking yakisoba-pan she has ever seen—with yakisoba so damn perfectly kept inside the bun!—all enclosed in cutesy-pink food storage boxes that Ryuko would have never, ever fathomed her sister having.

“Thanks, Sis,” she manages to say, and she lets them in, prompting an overly-excited Mrs. Mankanshoku to make them all some tea.

But Senketsu is quick to drop the news before any tea arrives and before Ryuko even has a chance to open up the yakisoba-pan, running his mouth almost as soon as they sit at the table.

“Ryuko,” he says, all nervousness and anticipation and quiet enthusiasm, Ryuko trembling horribly at all of it, hardly even able to breathe, “Satsuki and I wanted to tell you that…”

Senketsu looks up at Satsuki before he goes on. Ryuko is so uncomfortable she can barely believe her Life Fiber-infused heart hasn’t just given up by now.

But it clearly hasn’t, and Satsuki nods her head, and together, she and Senketsu look right at Ryuko as they say, quite matter-of-fact, “We’re dating now.”

And, well, Ryuko is quite silent for a long, long moment.

Satsuki’s cheeks flush. Senketsu sweats.

And then, without any warning at all, Ryuko breaks out laughing.

She doesn’t even know how she has it in her to get such a bombastic sound out of herself on account of her shit sleeping for the last two days, but somehow, loud, shrill laughter pours out of Ryuko, and she pounds her hand on the table, blinking tears from her eyes.

“I don’t see what is so funny,” Satsuki says, sounding hurt.

But Ryuko just keeps laughing through it. “Okay,” she says, amidst giggles, “you’re tellin’ me that-that…” She pauses, more and more laughter spilling from her lips, her chest aching as she wheezes and gasps for air.

“You’re tellin’ me that,” she tries again, still spluttering out laughter, still hardly able to breathe, “that-that-that Satsuki Kiryuin—Satsuki motherfucking Kiryuin—is dating—dating—my Senketsu? That Satsuki Kiryuin and—“

But, well, Ryuko can’t quite go on after that.

That’s right, she thinks. Not her Senketsu. Not anymore.

Ryuko grits her teeth together. She laughs again, but it’s no longer the kind that’s for something funny.

“So, it’s true, huh?” she asks. “You’re-you’re really… pushing me out, huh? Don’t wanna be my uniform anymore, huh?”

Somehow, Ryuko gets up to smiling so hard that her face hurts. “Well, it’s about time!” she says. She leans back, crosses her arms as coolly as she can. “Being my uniform must blow! And-and, I was just thinkin’ ‘bout how nice it was—“

“Ryuko.” It’s Senketsu, his voice carrying none of his annoying, know-it-all sassiness, instead full of sappy, feel-good goo that makes Ryuko feel a million, trillion times worse. Senketsu wouldn’t bother to be an asshole when he’s dumping her ass, of all times he should be an asshole?

She’s just about ready to call him the biggest dick in the world, but Senketsu speaks first, his voice far too gentle, too kind.

“Is that what this is all about?” he asks. “You think I would abandon you?” A bit of laughter comes over him. “After all we’ve been through, Ryuko? Why in the world would I leave you now?”

“Because you’re an obnoxious outfit and it took ya this long to get it through yer head that you shouldn’t bother with someone like me,” Ryuko says—mumbles more like—her face very red, her fake-ass smile long gone, and her eyes very sore.

She fiddles with the ends of the pink ribbon on her frilly bodice, keeping her eyes fixed on the stupid thing. “But it still took ya less time than my dad, so I guess you’re not that out of your mind.”

“Ryuko.” Senketsu has gone right into a somber sort of Seriousness, and it makes Ryuko’s stomach turn and turn. “I would never, ever leave you,” he says. “You know that, right?”

Ryuko is silent. Senketsu sighs.

“Ryuko, Satsuki is my girlfriend, but you—you’re my soulmate.”

Ryuko looks up to see Satsuki nodding her head. “I couldn’t keep the two of you apart if I tried,” she says, with a wink. “You’re “two in one,” remember?”

Ryuko looks away, but even she can’t help the small smile coming over her. “Is-is that so?” she asks.

“It is,” says Senketsu. “Now, why don’t you take that ridiculous outfit off and put me on instead? I can be anything you’d like!”

He looks towards the bag Ryuko’s left on the table. “And you should make it quick! Before the yakisoba-pan get cold!”

“This coming from you?” Ryuko wants to say, but she doesn’t, her entire being overwhelmed with something so strange and new and different that she can’t speak.

But it’s not uncomfortable. None of this is uncomfortable at all.

And okay, maybe Ryuko smiles just a bit and is just a bit glad when Satsuki’s scarf comes her way, and she brings him into her arms, and she wraps him around her neck, just like they’d done when she had sworn on everything that she would bring him back if it were the last thing she ever did.

And when Ryuko finally returns her sister’s clothes, and goes to come back into her own, she thinks that someday soon, she will be too old for sailor uniforms, and Senketsu will be too old to be sailor uniforms, too.

But right now, on the brisk, balmy morning of July 9th, Ryuko is still in high school, and still a teenage girl, and she thinks, she’s going to enjoy that for as long as she can.

And she’s glad, and satisfied, and so damn comfortable, that she doesn’t have to say a word to Senketsu about any of it, as he comes to her, and she comes to him, just as they always had.