Nozomi/Tomomori photoshoot, Fic: Peek-A-Boo [Marui, Niou]
There are two points to this post:
[1] Thank you soooo much to carneaglariel and futomimii for inviting me to help out with their Nozomi/Tomomori (Harutoki 3) photoshoot today and to raincloud_sama, yuncyn, _kazeki_ and Bunny-chan for coming as well and making the whole thing great ^o^
You guys are seriously, seriously awesome in both cosplaying and photography and I'm glad to be able to bask in all your collective awesomeness. ♥♥♥ Also, Axtar levels up in photography, y/n? >D
*really, REALLY wants to start working on Hinoe now*
[2] Because I haven't posted fic in ages, seriously.
And I'm totally cheating because this fic was actually written ages ago as a crackish plot idea for tenifriends, only it didn't turn out anywhere near the crack I wanted it to be. Forgot I even wrote it actually, until I was looking for my Grammar assignment to reread exactly what types of determiners there are and stumbled across it in my hard-drive.
But anyway enough of the tl;dr - here's to hoping it's not overly lame. ^^;;
Marui, Niou, loss of sleep and stalker-ish overtones. Vague plot somewhere in the mix.
Peek-a-boo
He doesn’t recall how it started - perhaps his mind had refused to acknowledge the flashes of silver, the feeling of being watched, the utter strangeness and impossibility of it all.
All he remembers - and it is crystal clear within his mind; he’ll remember it still when he’s grown old - is the first time he saw it clearly, in the bathroom when he was brushing his teeth. He had been gargling then, had been washing off his toothbrush under the tap when he had carelessly looked up into the fogged mirror.
And saw him in the blurry reflection, smirking at him in that familiar carefree way of his, razor sharp and knowing. He jumps, startled before spinning around, confrontational, eyes wildly roving from the faded tiles to the ceiling, splotched with one too many water leaks.
There was no one there.
He slumped back against the sink, hip against cold ceramic, the running water dampening his shirt as his heart hammered a million questions into his head. Despite the too-brief glimpse, he knew who.
What he didn’t know was how. And why.
-
Always three steps behind.
He blows his gum and pops it loudly, chewing on the deflated confection deliberately as he ambles down the street, tennis bag slung over one shoulder. People stare at him as he walks by, likely because it is rude to chew so loudly in public.
They aren’t in his shoes; they don’t understand.
Three steps behind.
He’s afraid to look back, afraid that he wouldn’t disappear this time, won’t prove to be some side effect from playing too much tennis or eating too much cake at night.
Afraid that if he does, that voice won’t go away, the one that hums tunelessly on purpose. That laugh that he really shouldn’t be hearing three steps behind.
Are you afraid of me, Marui?
The question comes as if whispered right beside his ear, but Marui doesn’t turn around, only begins to walk across the street with everybody else. And if he sees the person, standing just off the side of the curb, he does an excellent job pretending not to notice him.
-
It doesn’t go away like he thought it might.
He’s refrained from eating anything sweet for the past couple of days, had even stopped chewing gum despite the cravings. Tennis practice is unavoidable though and he runs through the games with his usual pinpoint precision as expected of him. Geniuses always have to be at their best, whatever situation they are in.
Now that he thinks about it, it’s possibly connected to tennis. Yes, that must be it.
Only, finding out the source of his problems isn’t exactly solving it. He toys with the idea of stopping tennis but ditches the idea after thirty seconds worth of contemplation.
He gives it more thought later though, after he sees him in the cabinet mirror again. Except this time, when he turns around, there is someone there with him, in the small cramped space. Someone familiar who really, really shouldn’t be anywhere near his house, much less here.
Marui thinks he yells out, but everyone’s out for the night and won’t be back until much later. It’s the farthest fact from his mind now though as he backs against the wall and stares at the intruder - how did he break in? All the locks are fastened and this can’t be happening, no no no -
Even as his wide eyes take in the white rat tail and the Rikkai uniform, Niou lifts a casual hand in greeting, eyes glimmering under the stark lighting of the bathroom.
“Long time no see, Marui.”
-
Restless sleep is all he gets that night, hovering between humid wakefulness and the dreams of mocking laughter and flashes of white hair around every corner. Before long, he is unable to differentiate between reality and sleep and Niou hovers just oft the plane of his vision even as he kicks the blankets off his bed, looking, always looking.
Morning is almost a blessing in disguise and he drags himself off the mattress and into the bathroom. If Niou appears in the mirror, he is too drowsy to actually care.
His mother looks at him in concern when he comes down for breakfast but dismisses it as a result of too many tennis practices. She reminds him not to overdo it and he smiles wanly, barely noticing as his younger brother swipes a piece of toast off his plate.
He wouldn’t have noticed at all, if not for Niou, who says, “You’re too careless, Marui” in an uncanny imitation of Sanada.
And as Niou's laughter rings throughout the room, Marui suddenly isn’t very hungry anymore.
-
“Huh?”
Marui repeats the question slowly. “Have you seen anyone around the house lately? As in, strangers or people you don’t know?”
His brother eyes him suspiciously. “Is this a trick question?”
It takes him awhile to assure his brother that he is, indeed, deadly serious. The smaller boy shakes his head in answer. “You’re weird, aniki - you’ve probably been whacked in the head by too many tennis balls.”
Once, Marui would have trapped his brother in a headlock and demanded he take back his words one by one. Now, he merely walks back to his room, his mind furiously trying to think rationally despite the panic that insists on screaming within the innermost corners of his head.
In his wake, Niou waves airily at Marui’s brother before following him through the door, always three steps behind.
-
He’s off his game and knows it, but lack of sleep will take its toll on even the best player in the world. And 'sleep' these days consists of a few snatched moments of blessed unconsciousness before the tennis comes in and Niou with a racket in its wake, laughing like he knows the biggest joke in the world but is not telling.
Still, it is all he can do not to cry in frustration as his ball misses the pole for the fifth time running, bouncing to a halt off-court instead. Jackal glances at him discreetly and goes after the ball, but Kirihara is less subtle, scowling at his side of the court. “Man, Marui-sempai, you suck.”
Yanagi speaks to Kirihara quietly, but Niou calls out his every word from across the court, as loudly as he could, his voice laced with glee. “HUSH, AKAYA. YOU SHOULDN’T BE SO BLUNT. IT WOULD BE BEST IF YOU LEARNT NOT TO BLURT OUT EVERYTHING ESPECIALLY DURING A MATCH.”
Jackal has to shake him by the shoulder to jerk his attention away from the white-headed figure and asks whether he would like to lie down. You look really pale, Marui, are you alright?
“I’m fine,” he snaps out. Only, he’s anything but as he throws the ball up and hits it with the racket, only to watch it roll out of the white lines again.
-
“Is something wrong, Marui?”
Yes, he thinks. Niou’s following me everywhere and it’s been a week and I don’t know what to do about it because no one else can see him but me and I might be going crazy at the age of fourteen.
He waves dismissively instead as he sinks down into a nearby chair. “It’s nothing; I’ve just been sleeping late. Say, Yanagi, could you help me with something? My brother’s been pestering me about it lately but I don’t quite know how to answer him, so I thought you could help.”
Yanagi looks at him silently and Marui wonders impulsively if he’s collected enough data on him to be able to tell what’s been happening lately. “What is it?”
“Is it normal to dream of people who are not there?”
Yanagi’s eyebrow lifts. “During sleep?”
“No, as in, in everyday life. Like now. Say for instance, if I were to see a…a clown standing right over…” Marui gestures randomly at a desk, “…there. Is that normal? Wouldn't the person who sees that clown be considered insane or something?”
“It can’t be considered completely normal, but neither is it unheard of.” Closing the book he had been reading, Yanagi looks calmly at the red-headed boy. “I believe the scientific term for it is ‘hallucinating’, although in your brother’s case, it could perhaps be imaginary friends or something of the like.”
“Hallucinating,” Marui repeated thoughtfully to himself. “That might be it.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else you would like me to assist you with?”
Marui gets up and brushes his pants off, partially relieved. Now that he's gotten a concrete scientific term, he will be able to go home and look up ‘hallucinating’ on the Internet and find the way to get it to stop. Then everything will be fine. “Nah. Thanks though Yanagi.”
On an impulse, he asks, “Oh, by the way, Yanagi, have you seen Niou lately?”
Yanagi doesn’t speak, doesn’t even look at Marui as he answers. “Once last week on Monday.”
Even without data at his fingertips, he sees that Yanagi isn’t going to say anything more, waves goodbye and leaves the classroom.
-
He walks home and makes it all the way to the front gate before saying aloud, “I’m not seeing things. You’re not real. You don’t exist. I’m just hallucinating.”
Still, his hand trembles on the latch when Niou whispers, “No, you’re not.”
-
He’s tired. Tired of avoiding his gaze, of seeing him in his dreams, of his footsteps that are always just behind his. Tired of that smirk, of the green eyes that follows his every move, of the voice that he shouldn’t be hearing. So tired.
Too tired.
He climbs up the hospital steps, wavering slightly as he held on to the railing to keep him upright. Yukimura had dismissed him from practice today, told him bluntly to make sure he's able to actually serve straight before even thinking of turning up next time. He gets it even without Yukimura having to imply anything - a sleepy player is useless on court, period. And Rikkai can't afford to have a useless player, not ever and especially not now.
But rest isn’t something he can afford these days. Not with Niou, damn him.
He stops by reception mostly as a formality; he knows the room number by heart now. The lift carries him up to the fifth floor and he steps out into the clean, bleak scent of the disinfectant the hospital staff used to wipe the floors.
For once, Niou is silent if he’s even there at all; Marui doesn’t see him all the way down the corridor and begins contemplating snatching a few minutes of sleep while he can. He doesn’t though, only makes his way down to Room 305, knocking on the door trice.
He realizes, belatedly, that he had brought no gift only after he pushes the door open.
Yagyuu is awake for once, and he nods at Marui as he enters. The red-head tennis player carefully avoids looking at the place on the bed where the blanket sags through the space where a leg should be. The bespectacled tennis player betrays no sign of pain, but then again, Yagyuu is strong, has always been even before the accident.
They talk for awhile, Marui filling Yagyuu in on what’s happening at school and at tennis practices, taking care to omit all the Niou parts. Yagyuu nods at all the right places in his narration, but his face is pale with his lips slightly pinched and Marui wonders if he’s listening at all.
The visit comes to an end soon enough and Marui makes ready to depart. Yagyuu thanks him for dropping by and the grip on his hand is sincere, thankful for the time he has spent with him, reminding him there is still more to life than lifeless white walls and endlessly beeping machines.
Then, Marui asks, “How is Niou doing?”
Yagyuu goes silent and his hand falls out of Marui’s grip. Turning to look out the window, his face is blank as he replies, “There’s been no change yet. The doctors give it five months, but…” He smiles then, only it isn’t a smile, merely a widening of lips that has no meaning behind it. “I think it’s still restricted to family members though if you’re planning to drop in on him.”
Marui nods before taking his leave.
-
Niou returns after he steps out of the hospital’s entrance, but he is more subdued, no jeering, only a muted silence from three steps behind.
Marui doesn’t think he cares anymore anyway.
He purposefully stalks over to the nearby empty playground (at least this way, no one will think he's insane, talking to himself) and climbs unto the small monkey bars, perching on the topmost rung as he looks at Niou, who doesn’t look back, shifts his gaze over to the seesaws instead.
“Telling you to go away isn’t going to work, is it?”
Niou shakes his head once, twice.
Grimacing, Marui jumps straight to the point. “Why?”
Niou looks up then. “Why what?”
“Don’t play dumb; you know perfectly well what I’m talking about. Why are you following - hell, why are you even here? How can you be here anyway? I know your- your, oh hell, your ‘body’ is in the hospital, that’s for sure.”
“I don’t know.”
He makes a disbelieving noise, swings his legs extra-hard against the metal rails. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? How about being serious for once?”
“You want ‘serious’? Try switching places with me then - God, I would welcome it.”
The sudden, stinging harshness of his words, so different from the usual mocking tone, comes as a surprise to both of them and Marui blinks, leaning back against the bars. “Wow, you are being serious for once, huh? But…why me? Why not, say, Sanada or Yukimura? Or even Yanagi - I bet he'd be able to use his statistics or something to explain this whole mess.”
Niou’s face is unemotional, full of anything but feeling. “Because you’re the only one left who sees me.”
And he’s right, Marui realizes with a start that almost sends him toppling over (only he's a genius, and geniuses don't topple over). He’s the only one haunted by Niou’s never-ceasing presence, the one who sees him everywhere be goes, the one who hears all of Niou’s taunting. Studying his teammate, he wonders how it must be, where you are supposed to be comatose in a bed somewhere but aren’t, knowing no one can hear you or see you no matter how loud you scream and only you are left with the echoes.
Leaping off the monkey bars, he inclines his head slightly. “Let’s hit the street courts before we go back. Thanks to you, my genius skills haven’t been up to par lately - you owe me one for that. I guess you can’t play tennis huh? Good - I’ll be able to slam a few tennis balls through you then.”
A small smirk graces Niou’s face. “Heh, as if you’ll be able to.”
And as the two of them walk away from the small playground, Niou walks beside Marui, neither three steps ahead nor three steps behind.
owari
[1] Thank you soooo much to carneaglariel and futomimii for inviting me to help out with their Nozomi/Tomomori (Harutoki 3) photoshoot today and to raincloud_sama, yuncyn, _kazeki_ and Bunny-chan for coming as well and making the whole thing great ^o^
You guys are seriously, seriously awesome in both cosplaying and photography and I'm glad to be able to bask in all your collective awesomeness. ♥♥♥ Also, Axtar levels up in photography, y/n? >D
*really, REALLY wants to start working on Hinoe now*
[2] Because I haven't posted fic in ages, seriously.
And I'm totally cheating because this fic was actually written ages ago as a crackish plot idea for tenifriends, only it didn't turn out anywhere near the crack I wanted it to be. Forgot I even wrote it actually, until I was looking for my Grammar assignment to reread exactly what types of determiners there are and stumbled across it in my hard-drive.
But anyway enough of the tl;dr - here's to hoping it's not overly lame. ^^;;
Marui, Niou, loss of sleep and stalker-ish overtones. Vague plot somewhere in the mix.
Peek-a-boo
He doesn’t recall how it started - perhaps his mind had refused to acknowledge the flashes of silver, the feeling of being watched, the utter strangeness and impossibility of it all.
All he remembers - and it is crystal clear within his mind; he’ll remember it still when he’s grown old - is the first time he saw it clearly, in the bathroom when he was brushing his teeth. He had been gargling then, had been washing off his toothbrush under the tap when he had carelessly looked up into the fogged mirror.
And saw him in the blurry reflection, smirking at him in that familiar carefree way of his, razor sharp and knowing. He jumps, startled before spinning around, confrontational, eyes wildly roving from the faded tiles to the ceiling, splotched with one too many water leaks.
There was no one there.
He slumped back against the sink, hip against cold ceramic, the running water dampening his shirt as his heart hammered a million questions into his head. Despite the too-brief glimpse, he knew who.
What he didn’t know was how. And why.
-
Always three steps behind.
He blows his gum and pops it loudly, chewing on the deflated confection deliberately as he ambles down the street, tennis bag slung over one shoulder. People stare at him as he walks by, likely because it is rude to chew so loudly in public.
They aren’t in his shoes; they don’t understand.
Three steps behind.
He’s afraid to look back, afraid that he wouldn’t disappear this time, won’t prove to be some side effect from playing too much tennis or eating too much cake at night.
Afraid that if he does, that voice won’t go away, the one that hums tunelessly on purpose. That laugh that he really shouldn’t be hearing three steps behind.
Are you afraid of me, Marui?
The question comes as if whispered right beside his ear, but Marui doesn’t turn around, only begins to walk across the street with everybody else. And if he sees the person, standing just off the side of the curb, he does an excellent job pretending not to notice him.
-
It doesn’t go away like he thought it might.
He’s refrained from eating anything sweet for the past couple of days, had even stopped chewing gum despite the cravings. Tennis practice is unavoidable though and he runs through the games with his usual pinpoint precision as expected of him. Geniuses always have to be at their best, whatever situation they are in.
Now that he thinks about it, it’s possibly connected to tennis. Yes, that must be it.
Only, finding out the source of his problems isn’t exactly solving it. He toys with the idea of stopping tennis but ditches the idea after thirty seconds worth of contemplation.
He gives it more thought later though, after he sees him in the cabinet mirror again. Except this time, when he turns around, there is someone there with him, in the small cramped space. Someone familiar who really, really shouldn’t be anywhere near his house, much less here.
Marui thinks he yells out, but everyone’s out for the night and won’t be back until much later. It’s the farthest fact from his mind now though as he backs against the wall and stares at the intruder - how did he break in? All the locks are fastened and this can’t be happening, no no no -
Even as his wide eyes take in the white rat tail and the Rikkai uniform, Niou lifts a casual hand in greeting, eyes glimmering under the stark lighting of the bathroom.
“Long time no see, Marui.”
-
Restless sleep is all he gets that night, hovering between humid wakefulness and the dreams of mocking laughter and flashes of white hair around every corner. Before long, he is unable to differentiate between reality and sleep and Niou hovers just oft the plane of his vision even as he kicks the blankets off his bed, looking, always looking.
Morning is almost a blessing in disguise and he drags himself off the mattress and into the bathroom. If Niou appears in the mirror, he is too drowsy to actually care.
His mother looks at him in concern when he comes down for breakfast but dismisses it as a result of too many tennis practices. She reminds him not to overdo it and he smiles wanly, barely noticing as his younger brother swipes a piece of toast off his plate.
He wouldn’t have noticed at all, if not for Niou, who says, “You’re too careless, Marui” in an uncanny imitation of Sanada.
And as Niou's laughter rings throughout the room, Marui suddenly isn’t very hungry anymore.
-
“Huh?”
Marui repeats the question slowly. “Have you seen anyone around the house lately? As in, strangers or people you don’t know?”
His brother eyes him suspiciously. “Is this a trick question?”
It takes him awhile to assure his brother that he is, indeed, deadly serious. The smaller boy shakes his head in answer. “You’re weird, aniki - you’ve probably been whacked in the head by too many tennis balls.”
Once, Marui would have trapped his brother in a headlock and demanded he take back his words one by one. Now, he merely walks back to his room, his mind furiously trying to think rationally despite the panic that insists on screaming within the innermost corners of his head.
In his wake, Niou waves airily at Marui’s brother before following him through the door, always three steps behind.
-
He’s off his game and knows it, but lack of sleep will take its toll on even the best player in the world. And 'sleep' these days consists of a few snatched moments of blessed unconsciousness before the tennis comes in and Niou with a racket in its wake, laughing like he knows the biggest joke in the world but is not telling.
Still, it is all he can do not to cry in frustration as his ball misses the pole for the fifth time running, bouncing to a halt off-court instead. Jackal glances at him discreetly and goes after the ball, but Kirihara is less subtle, scowling at his side of the court. “Man, Marui-sempai, you suck.”
Yanagi speaks to Kirihara quietly, but Niou calls out his every word from across the court, as loudly as he could, his voice laced with glee. “HUSH, AKAYA. YOU SHOULDN’T BE SO BLUNT. IT WOULD BE BEST IF YOU LEARNT NOT TO BLURT OUT EVERYTHING ESPECIALLY DURING A MATCH.”
Jackal has to shake him by the shoulder to jerk his attention away from the white-headed figure and asks whether he would like to lie down. You look really pale, Marui, are you alright?
“I’m fine,” he snaps out. Only, he’s anything but as he throws the ball up and hits it with the racket, only to watch it roll out of the white lines again.
-
“Is something wrong, Marui?”
Yes, he thinks. Niou’s following me everywhere and it’s been a week and I don’t know what to do about it because no one else can see him but me and I might be going crazy at the age of fourteen.
He waves dismissively instead as he sinks down into a nearby chair. “It’s nothing; I’ve just been sleeping late. Say, Yanagi, could you help me with something? My brother’s been pestering me about it lately but I don’t quite know how to answer him, so I thought you could help.”
Yanagi looks at him silently and Marui wonders impulsively if he’s collected enough data on him to be able to tell what’s been happening lately. “What is it?”
“Is it normal to dream of people who are not there?”
Yanagi’s eyebrow lifts. “During sleep?”
“No, as in, in everyday life. Like now. Say for instance, if I were to see a…a clown standing right over…” Marui gestures randomly at a desk, “…there. Is that normal? Wouldn't the person who sees that clown be considered insane or something?”
“It can’t be considered completely normal, but neither is it unheard of.” Closing the book he had been reading, Yanagi looks calmly at the red-headed boy. “I believe the scientific term for it is ‘hallucinating’, although in your brother’s case, it could perhaps be imaginary friends or something of the like.”
“Hallucinating,” Marui repeated thoughtfully to himself. “That might be it.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else you would like me to assist you with?”
Marui gets up and brushes his pants off, partially relieved. Now that he's gotten a concrete scientific term, he will be able to go home and look up ‘hallucinating’ on the Internet and find the way to get it to stop. Then everything will be fine. “Nah. Thanks though Yanagi.”
On an impulse, he asks, “Oh, by the way, Yanagi, have you seen Niou lately?”
Yanagi doesn’t speak, doesn’t even look at Marui as he answers. “Once last week on Monday.”
Even without data at his fingertips, he sees that Yanagi isn’t going to say anything more, waves goodbye and leaves the classroom.
-
He walks home and makes it all the way to the front gate before saying aloud, “I’m not seeing things. You’re not real. You don’t exist. I’m just hallucinating.”
Still, his hand trembles on the latch when Niou whispers, “No, you’re not.”
-
He’s tired. Tired of avoiding his gaze, of seeing him in his dreams, of his footsteps that are always just behind his. Tired of that smirk, of the green eyes that follows his every move, of the voice that he shouldn’t be hearing. So tired.
Too tired.
He climbs up the hospital steps, wavering slightly as he held on to the railing to keep him upright. Yukimura had dismissed him from practice today, told him bluntly to make sure he's able to actually serve straight before even thinking of turning up next time. He gets it even without Yukimura having to imply anything - a sleepy player is useless on court, period. And Rikkai can't afford to have a useless player, not ever and especially not now.
But rest isn’t something he can afford these days. Not with Niou, damn him.
He stops by reception mostly as a formality; he knows the room number by heart now. The lift carries him up to the fifth floor and he steps out into the clean, bleak scent of the disinfectant the hospital staff used to wipe the floors.
For once, Niou is silent if he’s even there at all; Marui doesn’t see him all the way down the corridor and begins contemplating snatching a few minutes of sleep while he can. He doesn’t though, only makes his way down to Room 305, knocking on the door trice.
He realizes, belatedly, that he had brought no gift only after he pushes the door open.
Yagyuu is awake for once, and he nods at Marui as he enters. The red-head tennis player carefully avoids looking at the place on the bed where the blanket sags through the space where a leg should be. The bespectacled tennis player betrays no sign of pain, but then again, Yagyuu is strong, has always been even before the accident.
They talk for awhile, Marui filling Yagyuu in on what’s happening at school and at tennis practices, taking care to omit all the Niou parts. Yagyuu nods at all the right places in his narration, but his face is pale with his lips slightly pinched and Marui wonders if he’s listening at all.
The visit comes to an end soon enough and Marui makes ready to depart. Yagyuu thanks him for dropping by and the grip on his hand is sincere, thankful for the time he has spent with him, reminding him there is still more to life than lifeless white walls and endlessly beeping machines.
Then, Marui asks, “How is Niou doing?”
Yagyuu goes silent and his hand falls out of Marui’s grip. Turning to look out the window, his face is blank as he replies, “There’s been no change yet. The doctors give it five months, but…” He smiles then, only it isn’t a smile, merely a widening of lips that has no meaning behind it. “I think it’s still restricted to family members though if you’re planning to drop in on him.”
Marui nods before taking his leave.
-
Niou returns after he steps out of the hospital’s entrance, but he is more subdued, no jeering, only a muted silence from three steps behind.
Marui doesn’t think he cares anymore anyway.
He purposefully stalks over to the nearby empty playground (at least this way, no one will think he's insane, talking to himself) and climbs unto the small monkey bars, perching on the topmost rung as he looks at Niou, who doesn’t look back, shifts his gaze over to the seesaws instead.
“Telling you to go away isn’t going to work, is it?”
Niou shakes his head once, twice.
Grimacing, Marui jumps straight to the point. “Why?”
Niou looks up then. “Why what?”
“Don’t play dumb; you know perfectly well what I’m talking about. Why are you following - hell, why are you even here? How can you be here anyway? I know your- your, oh hell, your ‘body’ is in the hospital, that’s for sure.”
“I don’t know.”
He makes a disbelieving noise, swings his legs extra-hard against the metal rails. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? How about being serious for once?”
“You want ‘serious’? Try switching places with me then - God, I would welcome it.”
The sudden, stinging harshness of his words, so different from the usual mocking tone, comes as a surprise to both of them and Marui blinks, leaning back against the bars. “Wow, you are being serious for once, huh? But…why me? Why not, say, Sanada or Yukimura? Or even Yanagi - I bet he'd be able to use his statistics or something to explain this whole mess.”
Niou’s face is unemotional, full of anything but feeling. “Because you’re the only one left who sees me.”
And he’s right, Marui realizes with a start that almost sends him toppling over (only he's a genius, and geniuses don't topple over). He’s the only one haunted by Niou’s never-ceasing presence, the one who sees him everywhere be goes, the one who hears all of Niou’s taunting. Studying his teammate, he wonders how it must be, where you are supposed to be comatose in a bed somewhere but aren’t, knowing no one can hear you or see you no matter how loud you scream and only you are left with the echoes.
Leaping off the monkey bars, he inclines his head slightly. “Let’s hit the street courts before we go back. Thanks to you, my genius skills haven’t been up to par lately - you owe me one for that. I guess you can’t play tennis huh? Good - I’ll be able to slam a few tennis balls through you then.”
A small smirk graces Niou’s face. “Heh, as if you’ll be able to.”
And as the two of them walk away from the small playground, Niou walks beside Marui, neither three steps ahead nor three steps behind.
owari