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She was the first present he ever received from his human parents, and Gonta cherished her dearly. A beautiful yellow canary with sunset orange feathers gathered around her eyes. She sang early in the morning right up until very late in the evening, but her song was beautiful, and in the soundproofed dorms at Hope’s Peak Academy, nobody minded that he didn’t put a blanket over her cage like many pet owners would.
He named her Natsu, because she was yellow, and the vibrant shade reminded him of the sun. Well, really that was how he explained it to other people; Natsu’s yellow was strong and present but it wasn’t much of a sun colour. Looking at her, and the bits of orange around her eyes, he didn’t really think about summertime, but it was a name that he thought was sweet, and it was simple enough that it made sense to him. A two syllable name that was easy to say. Just like his, but that wasn’t why he chose it. She seemed to like it, anyway, because she learned to respond to it quickly. Canaries were smart like that, though according to Gundham, not as smart as parrots were.
(Gonta didn’t mind that. He wasn’t very smart either.)
Things, with Natsu, were very simple. They came easy. Feeding her often, sneaking in during lunch and taking breaks from classes to sit with her, check her water, let her perch on his finger. She was so small, and Gonta was worried for a long time that he would break her. Him, with his large bumbling hands and clumsy fingers, and Natsu, so delicate and gentle. She bit him a couple times, but it never hurt. Soft nips at already scarred hands, and then an apologetic tweet, that was the most she ever sent his way.
Gonta’s favourite thing was to tuck her into his jacket and go through classes like that, with her nestled up against his chest. She would stay there, napping, or on occasion poke out her head and sing something, and it felt nice, to feed her seeds directly from his pocket and water from his cup and have her by his side the whole day. Natsu was good company. Gonta wasn’t the best at holding conversations. All those fragile parts of interacting didn’t come as naturally to him as they would have if he was a true gentleman. But it was easy to talk to Natsu. She was an excellent listener, and he could understand her too, in the same way he could understand every animal. The slight squint of her deep brown eyes, a different set of her little beak. He knew what she was thinking. And he supposed that Natsu could read his thoughts too.
Canaries were supposed to live for up to ten years. It wasn’t a long time by any means, but Gundham had praised the way he took care of her, and remarked that she might even stick around for fifteen or so. (In the confusing way that he always did, but his hamsters translated for him, thankfully.) Gonta tried not to think about it, how he would be twenty six years old and gone from Hope’s Peak Academy, in his own house, and then suddenly Natsu wouldn’t be in his life anymore. He focused instead on how nice it was to have a friend. A friend who didn’t think he was stupid, (didn’t know, perhaps) and who wasn’t going to leave him at the soonest opportunity.
He felt a bit bad about keeping her in a cage to begin with, but it wasn’t as though he could just send her into the wild. Natsu was hand bred, hand raised. Meant for a domestic life. Someone to fend for her. To send her away from it meant certain death for his friend. And on the times where she had the chance to escape-- once, Gonta returned to his room and her cage door was open, as well as his window-- she didn’t take it. That time in particular, she was sitting on his bed, grooming herself, and she chirped out a pleased song upon his return, as she always did.
Gonta let her out of her cage a lot more after that.
His classmates seemed to take his pet into stride, which was gratifying. He didn’t believe that they would judge him, of course; they were all very kind, even Miu, despite her abrasiveness, and they had all shown that they were excellent friends, and would continue to be. But he was worried, still, somewhere in the back of his mind, that they would think it was weird.
Instead, all that had really happened was that Tsumugi commented idly that she had a canary as a pet once, and Himiko quietly recommended a couple of tips for taking care of her, as she had several pet doves of her own, and knew a thing or two about birds.
The first couple of times he brought Natsu into class with him, nobody really commented on it, except Shuichi, who was only asking if he could scratch her head. (Gonta allowed him to do so; were Natsu a more shy bird, he would have gently declined, but she seemed to love the attention. Shuichi had a very light touch, anyway.) At lunch one day, though, while she sat on his shoulder and attempted to groom his hair-- rather unsuccessfully, Gonta thought, as his hair had always been a rat’s nest, but Natsu was not easily deterred-- Kokichi slid into the seat across from him and gave him a very odd look.
“I really had you pegged as the kinda guy to keep bugs as pets, Gonta,” Kokichi remarked offhandedly. Gonta couldn’t help smiling. His tone was a bit demeaning, but not hostile. It was just the way that Kokichi talked, and it didn’t bother Gonta. They were good enough friends that Gonta could recognise when he was being serious, and when he wasn’t.
“Gonta will raise bugs if they need extra help,” he mused. “And he likes to spend time with new friends outside, or inside, if a spider friend moves into his room,” though that hadn’t happened much recently, what with Natsu inhabiting the space. “But he doesn’t really keep them as pets. It’s fun to have pet bugs sometimes, but they don’t always thrive in that environment.” He shrugs. “They’d rather be with their own kind than Gonta. Gonta is just happy to spend time with them when he can.”
One of Kokichi’s eyebrows lifted, and his lips curled into a smile, though admittedly Gonta couldn’t really tell what kind of smile it was. Kokichi was like that, even if they were very good friends. Sometimes he was simply unreadable. “And the canary wouldn’t rather be with her own kind?” He asked, a tad coyly, but Gonta only hummed. He was happy that Kokichi remembered what gender Natsu was. He didn’t seem to pay attention to such things, and while Kokichi was unquestionably a kindhearted person, he was also not above calling an animal an it… if only to make a point.
“Maybe if Natsu was born amongst her own kind, then she would be happier in that life.” Gonta said, and when he stuck his finger out to her, she nudged it with her beak, as though to say, leave me alone, I’m busy. She thought him as a very large bird. A very large bird who didn’t know how to take proper care of himself, based on the state of his hair. Gonta was flattered to be a member of her pack. “But she was raised by humans. She wouldn’t be okay out there by herself. So Gonta likes taking care of her.”
“Hmm.” Kokichi rested his chin on one of his hands. “Your parents gave her to you, right?”
“Yes,” Gonta replied, pretending that he didn’t hear Kokichi’s undertone; that he didn’t understand, full well what it meant. Kokichi’s amethyst eyes weren’t sympathetic, but they held the light of someone who might’ve been, under different circumstances. What circumstances these were, that prevented Kokichi from being as much, however… Gonta couldn’t say. “Gonta’s mother and father gave her to him.” He looked at Natsu, and avoided meeting Kokichi’s gaze. “Birthday present,” he added, absentmindedly.
“...well, she makes you happy.” Kokichi murmured, almost inaudible, and then sprang to his feet, suddenly grinning. “Hey, hey, Gonta, I need you to help me plan a prank on Kiiboy.”
“Why?” asked Gonta, frowning. “Kokichi bullies him enough?”
“Nevermind that,” dismissed Kokichi, waving his hand. “You’re the only one who can help with this! Pretty please?” Gonta knew he shouldn’t agree, for Kiibo’s sake, but it was difficult to actually say no to Kokichi, especially when it came to things like that, that didn’t really matter, so he sighed and gave in. The prank itself ended up being harmless, just a bucket of glitter rigged up at the entrance to Kiibo’s room, and Gonta was actually pretty sure that anyone could’ve helped Kokichi with that particular task, in fact some of them better-suited for it than him, but he didn’t think much into it. He was probably the only person who was willing to go along with Kokichi’s mischief, at that point.
Gonta didn’t think himself a very good conversationalist. His sentences were awkward and clunky, and he couldn’t help but refer to himself in the third person, which he knew was incredibly childish. The mildly disappointed, mildly distasteful way his parents regarded him was enough to solidify the thought in his head. He wasn’t “slow,” not in that way, even if Miu was a bit more liberal with the R slur around him at times (though the reaction from their classmates was generally explosive, and as such she was learning to refrain) but he wasn’t the brightest, either. Saying even that was generous. Gonta felt, that if his intelligence was to be ranked in a list of all of his classmates, he would be placed at dead last.
His intention wasn’t to self deprecate; and he really didn’t see much cause to go around feeling bad for himself, that was for sure. But he just wasn’t good with people. He had a very rudimentary understanding of the things that made their brains work. The ways they reacted to things often didn’t make any sense at all, and a lot of them treated him different, too, like he was a small child incapable of processing the things that they were, so he had a hard time finding any evidence that he had any strength at all in that regard. The soft sciences weren’t his area of expertise. That was more Korekiyo’s thing. Gonta would’ve made an awful anthropologist.
But things were simpler with animals. Bugs. Plants, even, to an extent. Nothing was black and white, but there was at least a very normal rhythm to the way that they interacted. With Natsu, things were simple. She got huffy and irritated at times, and would sometimes leave a round pile of poop on his pillow if he got on her nerves, but her reactions made sense. Gonta could always pinpoint the things he did that made her feel or act in certain ways. And Natsu treated him about as normally as a bird could. With love and devotion, for sure, but with respect, too, in a way that Gonta had not realised he was craving. He didn’t mind being treated like he was unintelligent, because he didn’t think such a statement would necessarily be false, but… it was impossible to deny how excellent it felt, being treated like more than that. Even if it was just by a bird.
He got very used to his routine with Natsu that, even though the difference was incredibly small, Gonta noticed right away that something was wrong. Her song was strained, choked up, and weaker than it was normally. She stayed in her cage the whole time he was gone, and her food dish was still half-full. Some days she would sleep in her cage in his absence, and wake up to him returning to check on her, or to turn in for the night, but it was different than those times. And when he took her out to get a closer look at her, he saw immediately the slight discolouration around her face, her beak. The sluggish quality to her movements.
He didn’t even stick around to put down his bag. He was out the door in barely a second and when he opened his eyes again he was knocking on Gundham’s, cradling Natsu in his palm. She could still stand, which was important, but he could tell without having to think too hard on it that she was unwell. It was one of those things that Gonta just knew. It never really happened with humans (not with anybody but Kokichi, at any rate) but sometimes he could look at an animal, or a bug, and say, “Something is different. Something is wrong.” and he would always be right. This, Gonta thought, was one of those times.
Gundham answered quickly, frowning at him, but the look disappeared when he saw Natsu in his hand. His expression clouded instead, and without saying a word, he took her from Gonta’s hands and disappeared back into his room. As Gonta shuffled from one foot to the other, wondering what to do and where to go, another face appeared in the doorway. Pretty grey eyes and long blonde hair wrapped around her head in an elaborate, European hairstyle. Her name was Sonia. She was a princess, but Gonta knew her as a friend of Gundham’s, as they were together all the time.
“You can come in, Gonta,” she said kindly, and so he did.
Sonia tried to make conversation, but Gonta found that his throat felt rather closed off. He wanted to speak to her, as it was very very rude to ignore a lady, but he couldn’t open his mouth without the fear of questions, loud and quick and out-of-place, spilling out about Natsu. To Sonia’s credit, she seemed to understand. Eventually she ceased trying to talk and picked up a book from the bed, opening it to a random page and beginning to read.
They sat in silence for what felt to Gonta like a million years. And then, Gundham said, “She will heal.” Gonta felt his shoulders relaxing, all at once. Unlike all the other things Gundham said, the weird references and allusions to some kind of media that Gonta was yet to consume, this one made sense. “You have a good eye, to have brought her to me so quickly.” Gundham looked up at him, his eyes abnormally soft. “Natsu is blessed with the blood of doves from the heavens, but I should think that a temporary stay in my domain will cure her ailment for good.”
One of Gundham’s hamsters, San-D, appeared on his shoulder, and to Gonta, translated, it’d be better if Natsu slept here for tonight, so that Dad can keep an eye on her. After a moment, he added, but she has good constitution.
Gonta nodded, rolling his shoulders, and got unsteadily to his feet. He offered what he hoped wasn’t too tremulous of a smile. “Thank you, Gundham,” he said quietly. “Gonta really appreciates… all the advice. And help.”
“For a giant as gentle as yourself,” shrugged Gundham, looking rather casual. “I am obligated to assist.”
The trip back to his own dorm was painfully silent. Natsu was okay, was going to survive the night and hopefully many others after this one, but she wasn’t in Gonta’s hand, and somehow it made him feel off-balance, like he was going to fall over. There was a near-painful emptiness beginning to spread throughout his chest, and he didn’t know how to describe it, to put words to it; even for the sake of sorting through it all in his own head. Natsu was in the same building. In trustworthy hands. Gundham had a magic touch, and steady fingers. She would recover quickly with his guidance, and be back to Gonta’s side in no time. But the thought of going to sleep without her singing sweetly in her cage at his side felt unbearably painful.
And Gonta just barely stopped himself from colliding with Kokichi on his way back into his room.
“There you are, stupid,” Kokichi rolled his eyes. “Taking your bird out for an evening walk? I came in and you were gone.” Gonta thought that, perhaps, in his haste to get Natsu to Gundham, he had forgotten to lock the door behind him. But even if he hadn’t, Kokichi would have been able to pick the lock and get in anyway. Behind Kokichi, Gonta saw that the door to Natsu’s cage was still ajar. Pieces of her food scattered across the newspaper he spread at the foot of her cage. Kokichi’s expression was casual but tight, and Gonta wondered how it felt stepping into the room and seeing what he saw. What conclusions he might’ve drawn.
“Sorry,” Gonta mumbled. He averted his gaze, feeling guilty for making Kokichi worry. He didn’t have the energy to answer his question about Natsu, instead resolved to pretend like he hadn’t heard it. Kokichi was smart, and unlike Gonta, excellent at picking up on social cues. If he indicated that he didn’t want to talk about it… perhaps Kokichi wouldn’t ask. “What did you need Gonta for? Can he still help?”
Of course, Kokichi clearly noticed that something was wrong, because the look in his eyes shifted before his mask slipped back on. There was a tiny, tiny crease between his eyebrows that Gonta thought perhaps he didn’t realise was there. He was observant in the worst of times. But Kokichi had always been terrible at letting things rest. He opened his mouth, slowly, and asked, “Hey, uh… where’s Natsu, big guy?”
The combined blow of the question and hearing Kokichi address his bird with her name for the first time ever perhaps brought Gonta’s emotions over the edge. It wasn’t really Kokichi’s fault, in that way that, usually, when Kokichi caused trouble, he was just bringing already existing problems to the surface, but it was definitely the only thought on his mind, when Gonta, out of the blue even to himself, began to bawl.
“Wow! Wow, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Kokichi was alarmed, clearly, but Gonta just shook his head, pushing up his glasses and trying to wipe tears away from his eyes. It didn’t do him a whole lot of good, because the tears only continued to fall, but regardless, Kokichi’s surprise left him feeling worse. Now Kokichi would have to deal with it, with the crying, and Gonta couldn’t remember the last time he started bawling like this in front of someone else. Especially not someone like Kokichi, who probably had enough to deal with. “Did something happen to the bird? Gonta? Are you-- okay?”
Dimly, Gonta registered that Kokichi might have been panicking, and so made an effort to compose himself, nodding. It was a ridiculous burst of emotion that prompted him to start crying like that, but it couldn’t turn into a breakdown, because that was the last thing Kokichi needed, he thought. Honestly. Kokichi probably came to ask a favour, and here he was making it impossible for him to do so by crying over something that wasn’t even sad enough to warrant tears. It was one night alone. Natsu was going to be fine.
“...c’mere, Gonta,” Kokichi muttered, and then suddenly his hand was being pulled, and Kokichi was guiding him back into his room and gently sitting him back down on the bed. Somewhere, far away, Gonta heard the click of the door closing, and then the lock sliding into place, and then Kokichi’s footsteps, louder than usual, padding across the carpet and stopping in front of him. Gonta didn’t want to cry anymore, but he hadn’t even really stopped to begin with, and when Kokichi’s arms tucked themselves around his neck, his face being pressed into his shoulder, he… Gonta lost the urge to calm himself down.
Kokichi smelled like sugar. Sugar, and clean fabric, like it had just been bought, or perhaps taken out of the laundry. Gonta found himself thinking about linen, taking in deep breaths through his nose despite having his face still pressed into Kokichi’s shoulder, and found this a much more pleasant thing to think about than anything else that was ailing him.
And Kokichi’s fingers, after a moment, began to card themselves through Gonta’s hair, running soothingly through the entire length of the piece, all the way down to the curve of his back, and Gonta shivered, but couldn’t help thinking about Natsu, too, and the way that she always tried to groom it. She thought he was such a mess. He couldn’t help smiling against Kokichi’s shoulder, and laughing, too, thinking about the indignant determination Natsu always radiated, perched there on his back, as she struggled through strand after strand of messy green hair. Kokichi must have been baffled, though, about why he was laughing when something was clearly wrong with his bird-- and so then Gonta knew that he had to say something, explain what had happened.
“Nothing happened to Natsu.” He said quietly. “Erm, nothing, extreme, or-- fatal. She’s a bit sick, but she’ll recover. Staying the night with Gundham.” Gonta took a breath to calm himself before pulling back finally, meeting the poorly masked concern in Kokichi’s eyes. (They were very pretty. His eyes, Gonta meant. Lovely shade of purple. Perhaps amethyst was his favourite colour.)
“So she’s alive?” Kokichi asked, his expression smoothing out. Though this time it seemed less like a mask coming on and more like genuine relief beginning to peek through, creases disappearing from his forehead and a calmer, more genuine sparkle in his eye under the dim yellow lights in Gonta’s room.
“Yes,” Gonta agreed. “Alive. And okay, too, Gundham said.” He cleared his throat. “Gonta is only-- overreacting. He was--” he didn’t particularly want to say it aloud, but he’d already started the sentence, and Kokichi would know, instinctively, if he had lied, or omitted something, because that was the way that Kokichi was. He knew those things. “He was only worried about, sleeping through the night without her.”
Tilting his head to the side, Kokichi murmured, “Is that a problem for you? Sleeping alone?”
“No.” Gonta shook his head. “Gonta can sleep alone just fine. He just… prefers having Natsu here.” He looked over at his window. The curtains were closed, so he couldn’t see through it, but he knew what he would see if he looked out. Dark green leaves. Bright white street lamps. Bits of condensation crawling their way down the inside of the window. “Feels less lonely,” he added without thinking very hard about it, and then worried that Kokichi would make fun of him, but of course he didn’t. He just looked at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Gonta cleared his throat, attempting to lessen the awkwardness of the situation. Kokichi’s arms were still hooked loosely around his neck. “Gonta is feeling a lot better now, thank you. He was just a bit stressed.” It was true, Gonta thought, but a bit of a half-lie. It worked, though, for what he was trying to achieve. He just had to keep talking. “So, what did Kokichi want to--”
“You should let me sleep here.” Kokichi said, all of a sudden, and Gonta jolted, eyes widening. “Just for tonight, obviously, I’m no good at sleeping with birds singing all over and I know you’re not the type to do the blanket thing,” Kokichi rolled his eyes, and Gonta smiled despite the fact that he was still trying to process Kokichi’s words. He doubted Natsu would fall for that trick, anyway. She was too smart. “But I get suuuuper lonely all alone in my room, y’know? I need my beloved Gonta to keep me company.” He smiled, silly but sincere in a way Gonta had never seen before, and said quietly, “That’s more important than what I came here for in the first place.”
Obviously, Kokichi was asking so that Gonta didn’t have to sleep alone. He wasn’t dense enough to be blind to the implications of what Kokichi was asking. On that logic alone he should have just said no. But… well, the thought of Kokichi staying in there, with him, and perhaps talking to him for a bit before they both fell asleep, it was… beyond pleasant, really, and besides that… Gonta didn’t have the strength to say no, not to a request like that, even though he was certain that Kokichi would respect it if he said he’d rather be alone. So he found his voice and murmured, “Okay. Kokichi can sleep here,” and cleared his throat again. “Do you want Gonta to take the couch?”
“No, stu--” Kokichi cut himself off, a strange look on his face, and then amended, “Silly, I want you to hold me. Why else would I ask?” As though to prove his point, Kokichi turned around and kicked off his shoes, shuffling up to the head of the bed and pulling off his jacket, his scarf, and putting them to the side before crawling under the blankets. Gonta stared at him, his eyes wide, and wondered what exactly a gentleman would do in this situation. Kokichi gave him a very flat look. “Well?” His tone was expectant.
After a moment of consideration, Gonta shrugged. He was tired from crying. Kokichi wanted to be held, and really, Gonta wanted to hold him. There wasn’t much else to it. He’d worry about it affecting his gentleman status later. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with falling asleep with his best friend in his arms.
Usually Gonta slept shirtless, but he didn’t think that was appropriate for this context, so he simply stripped down to his undershirt and then slipped under the blankets next to Kokichi. He was worried they wouldn’t both fit, but his bed was pleasantly large, and Kokichi was small enough to fit right into his arms without any awkwardness. His hair smelled even more sugary than his clothes. What kind of conditioner could he have possibly been using? At any rate, it was awfully soft. Gonta wanted to mess with it.
“Thank you, Kokichi,” he murmured as Kokichi turned off the lamp. They hadn’t brushed their teeth yet, and Gonta thought that at least a couple of their classmates would be confused as to why they spent the night together, but Gonta could have cared more, for sure. And Kokichi was warm enough that he didn’t have the presence of mind to really think about it.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Kokichi’s voice was quiet, near inaudible, and sounded tired. Perhaps he was falling asleep already. Gonta wondered how that was possible. “You’d spend a dozen nights in my room if I asked you to, so.” He yawned, and Gonta found himself yawning too, as was the nature of yawning. When he finished, Kokichi murmured, “Good night, Gonta.”
And it was far from a song from Natsu, but Gonta knew that elsewhere in the academy, she was chirping away, and Gundham wasn’t silencing her, because he would never do such a thing. Perhaps he and Sonia were singing with her now. Gonta closed his eyes. “Good night, Kokichi.”