Disclaimer: Do. Not. Own.

Warning: Spoilers for entire series. Also, yaoi.

Summary: He couldn't remember seeing Kongo-san in this neighborhood before.

"Sena, carry these, please," his mother was saying. She was holding out a white shopping bag from the department store they had just left.

"Here," Sena said, and was taking it out of her hands when he looked up and saw Kongo Agon standing outside of a karaoke bar.

The shopping bag nearly slipped from his hand.

The street was crowded, seven o'clock on a cold Wednesday. Sena was loaded down with several things his mother had handed to him from the three department stores they had already been to, and was trying to keep up as she looked for the brand of shirts his father liked.

"I just don't know, Sena," she said. The tone was somewhere between distracted and worried. "I don't know if your father and I should be going on a trip right now, especially this time of year—"

"N-no, Mom," said Sena, trying to keep his eyes forward. "You don't have to worry about me, it's only a week—"

He tried not to look again. If there was one person in the world that Sena didn't want seeing him out shopping with his mother, it had to be somebody like Kongo Agon.

So of course he couldn't help that second, curious glance, both reluctant and helpless, over his shoulder.

Kongo-san was looking at him.

Sena's eyes widened. He knew he should look away, maybe after politely inclining his head, but, as if being caught looking was something like being caught, he stood there in place, his arms full of his mother's shopping, in a winter coat still slightly too big for him.

Kongo Agon looked—like he always did. Dreadlocks, clothes too loose, the biboi look that Sena's mother found so distasteful. He stood in front of the karaoke bar as if he'd been about to go in, the lights of the neon sign glinting off of the chain around his neck and the shades over his eyes.

There was a girl with him. Sena's eyes almost simply moved over her, as if the girl with Kongo Agon was something a girl just was, that required no other particulars—except then he hesitated, checked to see if his mother was still in hearing distance, and then looked again.

A shorter girl, this one, shorter than any of the other girls Sena had seen with Kongo-san in the few times their general areas had happened to include each other. Slighter, too, almost lean, not the look Sena had begun to associate with girls who went with Kongo Agon. Cute, not glamorous, natural-looking, with good skin and cutting edge clothes—

Brown hair. Cut in a tousled mop, the bangs almost pointed. Short, nothing below the chin.

"Ne, Agon," Sena could hear the girl saying, "I thought we were going to a—"

Kongo-san ignored her. He was still looking at Sena, almost staring at him from across the street and through a screen of passing people. The expression on his face was—

"Sena," his mother called, "Sena, over here."

"Coming," called Sena hastily, and turned back, hurrying to catch up.

He felt those eyes, their peculiar weight, on the back of his head, all the way into the next store.

"It's so far away," his mother was saying, looking through a stack of men's shirts. "What if there's an emergency? We couldn't be back in a hurry—or what if—"

"Mom, it'll be all right." Sena tried to look impatient in a manly sort of way. "How often does Dad get time off? Just go to the resort. I'll spend all my time at school anyway, and Mamo-nee will look in on me."

That girl with Kongo-san had looked so...familiar. Had he seen her somewhere? Did she go to Deimon? Or maybe she'd been at one of the matches. Sena felt as if he'd seen her before, or at least someone who looked like her, but couldn't think where or who. Something about her bothered him, some nagging sense that he was missing something important.

He couldn't remember seeing Kongo-san in this neighborhood before.

She'd had dark eyes, that girl, a soft dark that reflected the store lights and signs in yellow.

Sena shook his head, tried to put the chance encounter out of his mind, to pay attention to his mother while she fretted over the coming trip, and didn't know why he should feel so cold even indoors, under his big winter coat, or why a vague, indistinct sense of uneasiness seemed to cling to him, a feeling that he couldn't really name.