A/N: This is pretty much the lovechild of a lot of amazing people on the Pegoryu Discord server so I hope I do it justice! Special shoutout to to Alice, Jube and kuma!

Also a big thanks to lod who picked out all the absolutely awful typos in this mess 3

Akira wakes to the shrill sound of his alarm going off. There's sunlight slowly filtering through the open window, birds chirping in the background.

He blinks blearily at the alarm clock on his desk and wonders, for a moment, what on earth possessed him to set the alarm this early before he remembers. The first day of the new school year. Right.

He groans and rolls back over, burying his face into his pillow.

He should probably be more excited. He is excited. But…

It's not like he hasn't been seeing his friends all through break anyway. And he'd just gotten used to the routine of sleeping in late and attending club practice in the afternoon too. Then he'd have the rest of the day all to himself. Going to school early in the morning seems like a bit of a chore now.

But, Akira thinks, that's probably how it is with most students.

Akira stretches until he hears his back pop. Then he finally gets up to go get dressed.

Downstairs, his mother has breakfast laid out on the table; eggs, toast, orange juice, the whole shebang for a new school year. Mom herself is sitting on the table, muttering distractedly at her laptop; probably someone's manuscript is giving her extra trouble today.

Akira eats his food quickly, shoveling the toast down his throat, taking a single swig of orange juice. "I'm leaving," he calls out, bending down. His mother kisses his cheek once, distracted, perfunctory— and then he's out of the house.

Walking to school is, of course, another big deal after a long break. Everyone wants to catch up.

Akira, for his part, is a little bemused, since most of these people have seen him around anyway— Inaba's small enough for everyone to know absolutely everyone and three whole generations of their ancestors too. Nevertheless, he obliges everyone with the standard 'how's it going' and 'long time no see.'

All of the (few) schools in Inaba are clustered around the same area so the students usually take the same road. He doesn't really see any signs of the one person he really is looking forward to seeing, however. Typical. Akira wouldn't be surprised if she'd forgotten all about school in the first place.

"Akira!"

Arms slam into him suddenly, and Akira stumbles forward but catches himself before his face can hit the pavement.

"Oh shoot," comes the familiar voice from behind him. "Sorry about that!"

Speak of the devil, he thinks wryly, and she shall appear in all her orange-and-green glory. "I'm fine," he says. "You just surprised me, that's all."

Futaba Sakura narrows her eyes at him before shrugging in acceptance, apparently deciding that she doesn't care enough to dispute that.

"Right, well then." Her arm hovers near his, as though she wants to link them together, but then she drops it. Akira doesn't point it out. "I have news!" she declares instead, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her green aviator jacket. "There's gonna be a new transfer student at Yasogami. Your class."

Akira raises an eyebrow. "And you know this how?"

"Through the regular channels!" Futaba flaps a hand at him. "The rumour mill! I don't always go snooping, you know. I was just surprised you never mentioned it before. I thought you'd get a welcoming party ready, Mr. Class Rep."

Akira rolls his eyes. "Not the rep this year," he points out and ignores her sing-song 'not yet.' "Is it just me, or is Inaba getting a lot of transfer students nowadays?"

Last year, it'd been Futaba who'd transferred into the third year of middle school. Akira had been a first year at Yasogami then, and the only reason he'd met Futaba at all was because he'd heard her while coming home from gymnastics practice one day, sobbing her heart out on the gazebo near the riverbank.

Uneasy but unwilling to leave a little girl alone while it was getting dark out, Akira had awkwardly offered her his last Tap Soda. He'd stood by her until she'd calmed down enough to call her mother to come pick her up.

That night when he'd logged onto his Trinity Soul account, there'd been a ton of rare gifts in his inventory and a friend request from a player named 'Alibaba.'

The rest, as they say, was history.

Akira's never really asked Futaba about that day. He's since realized that Futaba struggles sometimes, with things like making friends or even talking when she's not behind a computer screen. It's why he's glad that he's managed to get close to her. Futaba's pretty amazing after all, and sometimes, when she's feeling kind, she'll let him have the best loot.

"Maybe. I don't envy the guy is all I can say," Futaba mutters under her breath and, at Akira's shrewd gaze, quickly tacks on, "Deliveries take ages to get here! In Tokyo, you'd never have to wait more than a week."

"Right." Akira has asked her why she moved from Tokyo — the heart of Japan — to Inaba of all places. He's asked more than once in fact because Futaba's answers...well, Akira doesn't really buy them.

The first time she'd looked at him furtively, leaned in and whispered, "The elusive Teddie. Japan's most famous cryptid. I'm here to hunt him down."

Which was, okay, a little fair. Akira doesn't think Teddie's Japan's most famous cryptid but he's certainly the most accessible given the fact that he actually, you know, exists. And in all honesty, Futaba would be the type to move house and home in search of a cryptid.

Still, Akira had chosen to take that first response as a joke and asked again.

"We're in hiding. My dad's ex-yakuza, you know."

And so it went on. The very last reason she'd given his was this: "Witness protection program. I hacked into some shady, shady things and mom got involved and it was a whole mess so we all got sent to nowhereland by the government."

Disturbingly enough, Akira has met Wakaba and Sojiro Sakura and he thinks that this is a pretty likely scenario. Maybe not Sojiro-san. But Wakaba-san, definitely.

"Inaba's a pretty chill place," Akira offers with a smile, putting his hand on Futaba's head. "I'm sure they'll fit right in soon enough."

A smile tugs at Futaba's lips in response.

"Hey, there's Kana-chan!" she says abruptly, looking at a girl up ahead. Futaba waves exuberantly and Kana, Futaba's one other friend as far as Akira knows, waves back. Between the two of them, Kana always makes Futaba look like the extroverted one.

"I gotta go hash out our battle plan for the first day of high school together. Can't let the enemy get the jump on us. Catch you later, Akira!" she says as she bounds up to meet her friend.

"Yeah, catch you later," Akira replies, raising a hand to wave to her— but Futaba's already moved on.

Akira drops his hand.

Walking into class, Akira feels a flash of relief when he sees that this year, he has Yuuta in his homeroom.

Yuuta Minami's in the gymnastics club with him and if Akira's already in the running for being club captain for his third year, Yuuta's the same with being vice-captain. Akira doesn't approach him though, just waves hello and takes a window seat near the middle of the class. He takes out his pencil case and a notebook to mark his territory.

All around him is the buzz of a classroom coming to life slowly, greetings and exclamations. Occasionally, words about the transfer student reach him, theories about what they could be like. Akira puts his head down on the desk and the familiar bustle of school must have lulled him into a doze because the next thing he knows, someone's poking him light in the back and he's jerking awake—

Akira shoots an annoyed glance at Yuuta behind him, who makes a pointing motion towards the front of the class.

"...and this is Ryuji Sakamoto. He's from Tokyo. He'll be joining us this year so I expect you all to make him feel welcome."

When the words register, Akira blinks the sleep away from his eyes and looks up at the exchange student he's been hearing so much about.

Black hair, he notes, a little unruly but he's obviously made an effort to tame the spikes. Akira can sympathize. There are square-framed glasses perched on his nose and his uniform's unadorned, practically pristine. His arms are by his side, posture loose and slack—

No. On a closer look, Akira realizes that his posture's tight. Restrained. Akira can see the line of tension in the new student's shoulders. Akira tilts his head curiously.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, voice soft, almost demure, then bows. "Please take care of me."

"So formal," Akira hears someone whisper.

The class's attention, so focused when it came to the guessing game of the exchange student, starts shifting when faced with the real deal. Soft-spoken, well-dressed, mild-mannered— all good qualities, but not interesting qualities. If Akira knows these people as well as he thinks he does, the murmurs of interest are going to die off soon enough.

But Akira's interest, on the other hand, sharpens.

Something about the new student is just rubbing him a little wrong. It's his posture, he supposes. The weird tension.

But then again, new school, new town. Who wouldn't be tense?

Akira taps his pen thoughtfully. When the new student —Sakamoto— doesn't make any other efforts to introduce himself, Mrs. Nakayama directs him to his seat, at the end of Akira's aisle.

The class voices pick up, life resumes. Mrs. Nakayama starts digging around for the class register and Sakamoto makes his way down Akira's aisle, who sits up a little straighter in response.

Sakamoto shuffles forward, walking awkwardly in the narrow space between the desks. Just as he passes by Akira, the edge of his bag catches on Akira's pencil case and sends it tumbling to the floor.

"Hey, watch it!" The protest falls from his lips without thought, subconscious and maybe a little rude — but that pencil case is a limited edition Featherman collectible that Futaba got him, sue him for being a little protective — and Sakamoto's eyes flash to his.

Akira's breath catches, his heart lurches uncomfortably in his chest.

Because there is nothing demure at all about the look Sakamoto's giving him now. His eyebrows are furrowed, mouth set in a tight line and his eyes— there's a fire in his eyes that was wholly absent during his lacklustre introduction. A fire that's low and simmering, almost as if he's daring Akira to challenge him.

Akira swallows, throat suddenly dry. "Ummm," he says.

Just like that, the burning gaze slides off him. Sakamoto bends down to pick up the pencil case.

"Sorry," he mutters and this time, despite Sakamoto's best efforts at keeping it soft, Akira can hear the gruff edge behind it. He swallows again.

Sakamoto places the case on Akira's desk and moves forward. He doesn't meet Akira's gaze again.

Once Sakamoto's safe in his seat at the back of the class, Akira drops his face to his hands, thinking— what the actual fuck?

And then he realizes that his face is burning against the clamminess of his hands.

Double fuck.

Akira spends the rest of the class weird and jittery and nervous for no good reason. No one else seems to have noticed that...Thing with Sakamoto, which makes Akira realize that it was most likely just 100% in his head.

By the time break rolls around, Akira's bouncing his leg, resisting the urge to glance at Sakamoto for the nth time.

When the lunch bell finally rings, Yuuta taps on Akira's shoulder. A few of his other teammates are making their way over to them too, Osa and Nakamura among them. They'll probably head over to the gym for lunch, the same as they did last year, and watch some of the basketball players shoot hoops. With a student body as small as theirs, there tends to be a lot of overlap between sports teams.

Akira moves to stand up, then pauses. Hesitates. Glances back to look at Sakamoto. He's doing exactly what he's been doing the whole class: hiding his face behind a textbook.

Don't hide, Akira thinks almost petulantly. Then he has to shake his head at how absolutely absurd that sounds.

"Do you think we should ask Sakamoto to join us?" he asks quietly. "He looks lonely."

Yuuta looks caught off-guard. He peers over his shoulder. "Looks to me like he wants to be left alone," Yuuta mutters dubiously.

"New school," Akira insists. "He's probably just nervous."

Yuuta peers over to Akira now, giving him a quizzical look before shrugging. "Not sure if he'll fit in at the gym, but sure. Why not?" He stays seated though, the implication being that Akira has to be the one to make the first move.

Akira gets up. He tells himself that his heart absolutely isn't jammed into his throat but he clears it for good measure anyway. He doesn't want to get too close to Sakamoto though— for some reason, the back corner of the class feels weirdly intimate.

"Sakamoto-san," he calls out loudly instead. Behind him, he can feel his teammates crowd around, curious and eager, and Akira tries very, very hard not to feel boxed in. Maybe going over to the corner would have been better after all.

Sakamoto's eyes squint up over the edge of the a second, Akira thinks he sees a flash of something —annoyance, maybe, or anger— before the gaze slides off again, the glare of his glasses obscuring his eyes.

"Would you like to join us for lunch?" he rallies, jutting a thumb behind him.

Sakamoto's eyes widen, glancing from Akira to Yuuta to the teammates behind him. He seems to hunch down even more, drawing into himself. Akira waits for an answer, anticipation building through his veins.

Sakamoto slams his book shut, shoving it into his bag at lightning speed.

"S-sorry," he says. He stumbles forward, banging into a stray desk as he goes. "Shi— sorry!" he calls out again. "But I just— I gotta— uhh, go. I gotta go."

And he's out the back door of the class in a flash, running as though the devil himself is at his heels. There's a beat of silence while the rest of them, the rest of the whole class actually, process Sakamoto's hasty retreat.

"...Okay, that was weird," Nakamura says from behind him.

"Guess he's shy after all," Osa adds.

Yuuta gives Akira an 'I told you so' look. "See? Told you he wants to be left alone."

Akira bites his lip, fights down the disappointment welling up inside him. "Yeah," he says. "Guess so."

A/N: So a few things right off the bat!

1) From a Doylist perspective, the reason Futaba is in Inaba in this fic is because a) I love her and b) Akira needed some people to talk to and without her it'd be 90% OCs. I'm not too fond of too many OCs in a fic.

From a Watsonian perspective, well, personally I like the witness protection program idea the best! :P

2) Yuuta Minami is the lil kid at the daycare in Persona 4! He's Eri Minami's stepson. I have no idea how old he's really supposed to be but for the purposes of this story he is Old Enough :D And Nakamura and Osa's last names are taken from Aika Nakamura, the girl who delivers your beef bowls in anime and Reiko Osa, the woman who owns Croco Fur in Golden...do u see...how far i am reaching...

3) Title may be subject to change, not 100% satisfied with this one :(

Anyway please do leave kudos/comments if you like it and feel free to hmu on oneshotprincess on tumblr!

Song for the Chapter: You Had Me From Hello by Kenny Chesney