Chapter Text
Despite the scrawny corporature, Akihiko Sanada was simply a prodigy when it came to boxing. His quick movements and ready reflexes helped his cause but it was his unwavering determination that led him at the top of his middle school's ranking. Unbeknown to him, Mitsuru Kirijo's patrolling around the town streets of a few weeks ago had earned him the heiress's attention since she had seen him awake when everyone else was lost to the realm of the unconscious inside coffins. Connecting the dots had been simple. Since that moment, she had been following his progresses from afar while the Group gathered datas to provide an insight on the boxer's history as well as a glance at his personality.
Apparently, Sanada had spent most of his childhood at an orphanage near Tokyo after the death of his parents. The Chairman had shown Mitsuru enough pictures of the building to make her realize that the boxer wasn't offered much more than a shelter: the walls had looked derelict and by the amount of children enrolled in there, she doubted the staff had been able to provide food for everyone to feed on freely. Doses had likely been rationed daily. To add to his suffering, a fire had claimed his younger sister's life when he was only eight. Less than a year later he had been adopted into a wealthy family that had granted him the 'Sanada' surname and offered a chance at a future. The Kirijo Group hadn't been able to gather more information because the boxer's life remained private if not for the often successful boxing matches. However her weeks observing him had been useful to comprehend that his dedication to the sport bordered on obsessive, leading him to spend much of his time practicing after lessons.
Although she wouldn't admit it, reading the file had caused a flicker of empathy to spread in a heart way warmer than most people recognized. Her childhood had been the opposite as the heiress to a billionaire company: she never lacked anything. Her future had always been stable regardless of the emotional baggage her family's past carried with itself. She wouldn't consider herself spoiled, but she recognized the limitless opportunities she was handed since birth: homeschooling until middle school to be provided an insightful, dedicated education that put her at an academic advantage in comparison to her more ignorant peers—including foreign languages lessons that granted her the knowledge of three languages only a month after turning fifteen: Japanese, French and English; a valuable number of activities and sports, of which horse riding and fencing were her favorites; branded clothes; trips overseas, whether for events she accompanied her father to or for rare vacations. The Kirijo name was tied to power and money. And now, unconsciously, it was tied to Akihiko Sanada too though no one could predict its extents yet.
Fidgeting with the hem of her skirt was an action as rare as it was currently grounding as she waited for Sanada to reach the corridors outside the gym. Mitsuru Kirijo didn't like crowds and the topic she was supposed to approach the boxer for wasn't one they could discuss in public anyway. Memorizing his schedule had been helpful to understand when officially introducing herself. From her spot behind the corner, she replayed the conversation she had prepared in her head with the intent to finalize her strategy. Of course, before taking the decision to recruit the boxer for the cause, she had discussed her findings with her father and the Chairman. Any help would be appreciated so neither adult could find a reason to deny her a companion. Convincing Sanada would be the main issue.
And so came in the boy, only 14, barely taller than the heiress when she wore heels. His face appeared annoyed by the crowd of fangirls following him around like paparazzi. With his secure stance and boxing achievements, Sanada seemed to conquer the opposite sex quite easily. Two of his teammates had to hold back the agitated teens to allow him a free escape. From her hiding spot, Mitsuru felt the need to either sigh or roll her eyes but she refrained for the sake of composure and self-discipline. She was well-acquainted with the way fans tended to act around celebrities or sportsmen they looked up to. She had seen her father getting surrounded by cameras and interviewed on repetition throughout her life, and knew that the same destiny awaited her in the future when she took his place as CEO of the company. Even now, simply for her status of heiress, she was asked for autographs and pictures regularly. As an introverted person, she despised the attention though she was raised to remain polite and maintain her reputation flawless in spite of her feelings. Her image was simply fundamental as a public figure. Even so, she could emphatize with Sanada's apparent discomfort.
An older figure entered the scene a second later: a middle-aged man walked past the excited fans, claiming the albino's attention. “You there! Sanada-kun, right?” He asked animatedly. Despite his attempts to show calmness, he was clearly ready to make a request. In fact, his lips were already slightly parted as he waited for a response.
The young boxer turned only his head at first. His dark jacket slung over his shoulders in a nonchalant posture that involuntarily highlighted his charming qualities to the eyes of his fangirls. The latters observed him with bated breath. “That's right,” he confirmed quietly.
“That was an incredible bout!” the man praised immediately. A beaming smile lit up his features. Mitsuru crossed her arms in front of herself, inaudibly annoyed at the forced delay. However her inquisitive personality caused curiousness to arise in her chest, too, so she observed the scene unfolding in silence. “I've never seen a middle schooler deliver a KO like that! I'm with the school you were up against in the finals. What do you say to enrolling with us? We'll give you a generous scholarship—you'd only have to pay half your tuition!”
“Wait, you're from another school? Poaching's against the rules and you know it!” One of Sanada's teammates from the boxing team pointed out sharply.
Only then Sanada fully turned around, facing the scout with similar disdain. “Sorry, but I don't see any reason to attend a school that places second.” Fangirls usually accepted first displays of arrogance if their consideration of a sportsman was high enough and his successes regular. It wasn't a surprise that the response ignited a louder coo from the whole group. Mitsuru, on her hand, scrunched her nose. “Good luck finding someone else.”
At least, the rude reply proved useful to end the conversation without further prolongation. Sanada's teammates took advantage of the general surprise and managed to lead everyone away and free the corridor in the matter of minutes before the fangirls could ask for another round of autographs as their actions hinted at. Unsatisfied with merely observing from a distance, a few cameras flashed to gift them a picture of their idol. Then, complete hush. Although now alone, Sanada refused to yet leave the corridor and remained standing as if lost in thought. He looked more exhausted by the poorly-hidden admiration than by the match itself. Mitsuru took a deep breath to steady herself as she promptly realized this was the right moment to act.
A gracious step revealed her form, no longer hidden in the shadows. The sound of feminine heels broke the sonic silence that had formed and claimed the boy's attention. The artificial lights of the school corridor highlighted the purple headband and the red strands of the shoulder-long hair beneath as she made her way to him. “Couldn't you have handled that with a little more tact?” she retorted first thing into the conversation—her way of expressing disagreement with the boxer's attitude. Although directness was better than lies, she despised blatant displays of arrogance due to the amount of times she had witnessed to some in the corporative world. At first glance, Sanada didn't seem different from the conceited sportsmen who held an higher image of themselves than they should. An adoring public certainly didn't help his growing ego. However when he fixed gaze with hers, all she could see was confusion. Obviously, he hadn't expected someone else to approach him so soon. His posture straightened on impulse as if bracing for some additional cooing. That was just how most girls at school behaved with him. Little did he know the one in front of him was the last person who would reserve him a similar treatment.
“I heard it gets crowded after pratice, so I decided to wait here instead,” the heiress explained her tactic, masking the nervousness she was feeling behind a perfect veil of composure. Her upbringing had served as training to hide her emotions for public appearances and events around the country. Ignoring the silent complaints of her unexpectedly shy personality, Mitsuru Kirijo was simply forced to interact with various groups of people regularly due to her status though she avoided crowds when possible since they overwhelmed her. A boxer her age certainly wouldn't stop her. “Third-year, Class C... Akihiko Sanada-kun.”
At first, the boy blinked twice as if carefully evaluing the reason behind her approach. Good manners would require he confirmed his identity and perhaps go as far as asking her name in return if he didn't already recognize her from videos online or reports on TV. However Sanada didn't fake kindness like she was used in the corporate world. A far from predictable move followed instead: the boxer headed to the wall next. He leaned his upper back against the harsh surface, lifting his right foot against it to appear as nonchalant as possible. Then, he held her gaze like it was a challenge. “What do you want?” He asked, wary.
Mitsuru suppressed the urge to raise her eyebrow, taken aback by the boy's attitude. “Hm?” She couldn't help but let out, crossing her arms in a more defensive stance as a result to his nonverbal intimidation. Inside, part of her confidence wavered though she couldn't reveal that. Any weakness would hinder her credibility so she'd rather show she had everything under control. “You're not going to ask who I am?”
Sanada shook his head, tired of attention for the day. “Why bother? Whatever it is you're here for, I'm not interested. All I want is to train and become stronger.”
“Oh, it's nothing troublesome,” the girl assured. Turning the tables was a skill her family had taught her early into her life to handle corporative meetings in the future especially. Despite her young age, Mitsuru had a way with words and disposed of a strategic brain: Sanada seemed to have a one-track mind and she soon understood she could use it to her favor. “In fact, I have a rather simple request.”
The boxer's lifted foot found the surface of the floor again with the same casualty with which it had greeted the wall. The rest of his body moved accordingly, straightening his back. Mitsuru interpreted it as a sign of curiosity. As expected, the words had caught Sanada's interest, claiming a little victory in a battlefield much larger. “What request?” He tried, still reluctant but not outright denying her anymore.
Feeling reassured, Mitsuru went on: “I have enemies that need defeating. Only thing is, they're not people—meaning, there's no need to play by the rules, not like in the ring. No, these enemies... They're related to what you go through every midnight.”
A frown showcased the boxer's lack of understanding in the matter of a second. Obviously his mind redirected to the events he recently saw happen at night for the first time. But who was this girl to be aware of the same confusing reality he had witnessed to?
Only then he bothered enough to study her features: eyes slightly bigger than the average Asian girl, though hooded more heavily as a personal characteristic rather than a hint of her origins; long eyelashes; thin eyebrows; an elegantly narrow nose bridge with a soft tip; refined cheekbones which childishness was beginning to fade early, leaving space to mature femininity rather than youthful softness; slender jawline; porceilain skin in comparison to more peachy peers; striking, wavy red hair that was rare to see in their country; uniform perfectly styled; long legs underneath the skirt; refined posture. There was something subtly aristocratic about her appearance that didn't seem solely Japanese. For her age, she certainly looked sculpted.
Mitsuru didn't need the same studying because she had already memorized his looks perfectly: short, messy white-silvery hair; perpetual bandaids on his face or arms; straight nose; a corporature too skinny to resemble that of a boxer yet despite his astonishing achievements; sharp eyes that dulled whenever he looked bored; face still more childish than his actual age that only time could develop. All in all, a clean boy who seemed to be on constant alert.
“You see, I'm in the same situation,” Mitsuru confirmed in case she needed to despite by this point, she hoped Sanada had gathered that much. “I do experience the same thing you do. The difference is, I know what it means, so if you'll join me... I'll share what I know with you.”
“Who are you?” He finally asked. The tightening of his shoulders was all but subtle, albeit the heiress's eyes remained fixed on his.
“Mitsuru Kirijo,” she replied promptly, gesturing with her hand. “I'm a third-year, like yourself.”
“Kirijo? Sounds familiar.”
There it was, the glimpse of realization in grayish eyes now more receptive than at the beginning of their conversation. Since they widened, Mitsuru was able to catch a green tint in the pupils mixed with its primary color. It was a rare combination, contrary to the new acknowledgment in them. The girl was used to the treatment by now. Every single soul in the country knew the name of her family. The Kirijos were simply one of the most influential and remunerative companies of Japan. If Sanada received attention for his fighting skills, Mitsuru claimed it with her surname alone. Looks also helped both and their annoyance at the fact accumuned them.
Her strategy worked all too well. Another look was enough to prove she had hit the jackpot: Akihiko Sanada seemed interested in anything that could represent a challenge worthy of his growing fame.
It wasn't until direct proof that Akihiko fully believed her.
At first, accepting Mitsuru Kirijo's words had felt impossible. He was direct but Akihiko hadn't dared call her “insane” during what he perceived as rambling. Yet something inside him had felt drawn to her explanation enough to replay it in his mind repeatedly until midnight came. Only then, in the darkness of his room, he could experience the veridicity of the heiress' statement. Acceptance had slowly settled in his heart after multiple attempts at using the weapon he was given and seeing for himself that it worked the way he had been explained. Mitsuru Kirijo wasn't a mentally unbalanced person as his brain had lured him into believing on impulse; she was stating the truth. Upon the realization, the careful interest that had settled within his insides had grown exponentially against any better judgement.
His decision over her request followed quickly. The next day, he found himself wandering around the school during the break in an attempt to find her. Excusing himself when chatting with Shinjiro had been simple given how unbothered the taller boy often acted. Despite they were best friends, Akihiko hadn't yet opened up to him about his encounter. He was used to making decisions alone and tended to retreat into boxing rather than words if overwhelmed. His introversion amplified whenever he was deep in thought, no less. Shinjiro's considerations about the rich and the consequent grimaces didn't help. Past wounds shaped the brown-haired boy's heart and became the reason of his resentment: no single company had ever blessed the orphanage they had spent their childhood at with a donation. Perhaps fundings could've been prevented the fire or offered them relief from the constant anxiety of starving daily. Most people also tended to become eccentric and pompous when successful, which ignited his annoyance. Shinjiro experienced Akihiko's same signs at night but the boxer didn't believe introducing him to Kirijo was a good idea for all these reasons. As attracted he was to the chance of a peculiar training during midnights, he wasn't gullible. Kirijo's approach had been too odd to fully trust even for him.
Thankfully, Akihiko didn't have to search for long since their classes were on the same floor. He found her just outside class A, listening attentively to a peer despite he sounded more like a fan than a schoolmate by his excited wording. Akihiko stopped by the corner. A glimpse of his own fangirls flashed through his mind at the sight. He remembered yesterday after recognizing her name that the Kirijos were known all over the country, but he had never paid attention to the amount of students that occasionally gathered around the heiress. Perhaps, in that regard, they weren't too different. "Is everyone in this school so desperate?" He didn't voice his thoughts.
Mitsuru was considerably more polite in handling the attention: “Thank you,” he heard her respond, calm and respectful albeit distant in attitude. Her hands quietly held a book against her chest in an apparently relaxed posture. No one could recognize the hints of her own exhaustion. “Your words are very kind.”
Even the simplest compliment could ignite the most emotional reactions from fans. The black-haired boy in front of Kirijo beamed at the consideration despite it was more prim than felt. A blush spread to his face as he thanked in return and headed away, satisfied by the encounter. Kirijo didn't have time for her shoulders to relax before she noticed Sanada approach. The roles had reversed in less than 24 hours.
“Kirijo,” he greeted, failing to come off as kinder than yesterday. He halted his steps a few meters in front of her. Somehow, his furrowed brows came off as intimidating regardless. Mitsuru wasn't scared though.
“Sanada-kun,” she maintained her voice reserved. There was, regardless, some expectation in her tone. Her productive brain was treating this conversation as business already. Akihiko couldn't blame her since he had her same attitude in this case. The lack of trust in each other's regards was clear to passers-by among the other students. Both ignored their whispering.
Akihiko didn't beat around the bush; direct punches were far more preferable: “I accept,” he announced on the spot.
Mitsuru lifted her head more prominently as if needing to hold her ground. An instant understanding jolted through Akihiko's spine like electricity: her gaze alone signified the depth of their partnership. This wasn't a game, and hers was a warning not to treat it as such. His quick decision demanded a reminder since he may have underestimated the risks involved. She hadn't expected Sanada to choose so soon when deprived of details regarding their mission. Her tactic would have required she approached him regularly throughout the weeks without coming off as too invasive until he was provided enough information to consider the matter in depth and hopefully accept. At least, his decisive qualities granted her a teammate far sooner than she had anticipated and she could move to the next stage toward the creation of a specialized team. A sense of pride ignited in her chest as she realized she had handled the conversation perfectly yesterday and earned his agreement in record time. Most importantly, her father and the Chairman would be satisfied of her efforts.
“Very well, then,” she made an attempt to hide any self-complacency. Her brain reminded her to be wary since Sanada could retreat at any moment: every word and interaction needed to be planned in advance if she wanted to prevent he changed his mind. “I'm glad you made the right decision,” she couldn't help but add anyway. Sanada's expression hardened slightly. Wrong move.
“Wait for further instructions,” the red-headed girl directed then. She, instead, didn't wait for a response and left the scene, deciding for both that the conversation had ended. Akihiko interpreted the behavior as a sign of a bossy personality and gritted his teeth with irritation as he watched her head downstairs.
His new task could be harder than expected.