FIC: Hatsukoi, SanaYuki, NC17 (2/2)
Title: Hatsukoi (2/2)
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 18 965
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all, except the references to Tian and Flying High.
Summary: First love, Sanada and Yukimura-style.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to koneko_meow for the betaing. Written for Sanada's birthday, 2008. Happy Birthday Sanada Genichirou! &hearts
This fic has been truncated into two parts due to length:
[Part 1] [Part 2]
10.
In second year, there is an optional trip abroad.
Yukimura says, "I'm gonna go. Are you?" They are in Sanada's bedroom. It's nearly supper and Yukimura will have to leave soon. Sanada hasn't shown his parents the permission forms yet. He doesn't really want to go to China.
Yukimura kisses his neck. It feels good, but a little slimy. Sanada bites his lip. He moans. "I don't know…ughnn…" Yukimura licks his jaw and says Sanada should come too.
"It would be fun, don't you think?"
Sanada's parents fill out the forms. He hands in the cheque to his homeroom teacher. Renji smiles and hands his cheque in, right after Sanada. "Beijing will be good," he says.
Sanada nods. He thinks about kissing Yukimura in a hotel suite overlooking a smoggy, Chinese cityscape. He thinks about sharing dumplings and dim sum with Yukimura in a grungy Chinese restaurant with red lanterns and squawking old ladies. He looks at his feet. Renji raises an eyebrow and Sanada flushes hotter.
Two days later, at tennis practice, Yukimura says, "My parents said no."
Sanada's shoulders drop. Yukimura sighs. "Sorry, I thought I would've been able to go. Send me a postcard, ne?" He tosses Sanada a ball. It hits the net post when Sanada misses the catch. Yukimura's laughter is light. Mostly, Sanada's arms feel cold from the crisp autumn breeze.
Yukimura kisses him in the clubhouse after practice has finished. He pushes Sanada against a locker. His face is pink and his belly is warm when Sanada touches Yukimura's stomach under the hem of his shirt. Yukimura's tongue is wet and fat in his mouth. Sanada tries to kiss back, but Yukimura is the one to lead today. He opens his mouth and his tongue is slack. Yukimura doesn't notice.
On the day of the flight to Beijing, Sanada's cell buzzes in Narita. hav fun w/out meee! dont get fat on Chinese fud!! &hearts
Sanada clears his throat. He looks around the departure lounge. There are classmates and other second years in various states of consciousness and airport-induced listlessness. Renji stands by the large, glass windows and watches the runway. Sanada sips his Starbucks and starts to type a reply.
"'You're always my dumpling'?" Niou says.
Sanada's stomach sinks. His blood freezes. He turns around. Niou leans over the back of his seat. Niou waves his fingers. "Howdy."
Sanada groans.
"Guess what?" Niou asks. "Besides the fact your message to Yukimura is gayer than gay."
"Shut up!" Sanada hisses. He narrows his eyes. Niou's smirk widens.
"We're sitting by each other on the flight!" Niou snickers. Sanada rubs his temple. It's only ten days. He'll be okay.
Niou steals Sanada's complimentary crackers on the plane. He wiggles constantly. He gets in and out of the seat to pace the aisles. He plays with the arm rest. He spills his complimentary oolong tea on Sanada's lap. Sanada says nothing. He closes his eyes. He places his cap over his eyes and tells himself they'll land soon enough.
Besides, Yagyuu is rooming with Niou. Sanada is safe with Renji.
Five days in Beijing with forty other thirteen-and-fourteen year olds is more than enough for Sanada. They shuffle around Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City like ducks in a line. They visit the Great Wall and take photographs. Sanada scowls when Yagyuu says cheese. Renji flashes a v.
Sanada has food poisoning half the time and the other half, he's constipated. The dumplings make his stomach churn. The spring rolls and noodles give him gas. He spends more time in the hotel in the bathroom than down in the lobby having fun. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut as he clutches the sides of the toilet. Nothing works-not ginger, not reading Yukimura's text messages, not the anti-diarrhoeal medicine his mom packed for him.
He hates sharing a room with Renji. Sanada lies in bed at night. The mattress is hard and the pillow is lumpy. The city lights are too bright, even though the closed curtains. Beijing smells like garbage and dog piss and too many people. Renji constantly masturbates. The slick sounds and breathy grunts he makes keep Sanada awake. He closes his eyes and tries to centre himself. It only makes his intestines gurgle more, and then he's rushing to the bathroom again.
Sanada takes notes during the class excursions. There will be a test when they get back to school. "It's not a trip for fun," the teachers say.
"Yeah right," Niou mutters.
Sanada glares at him. Niou grins, then he says something to Yagyuu. Later, Yagyuu walks up to Sanada in the museum. "You look tired, Sanada-kun. Are you sleeping well?"
Sanada's neck has a crick. His eyes are crusted over with sleep deprivation. The pork buns from lunch make his stomach rumble, and his eyes keep flicking up to the signs locating the toilets. "I'm fine," Sanada grumbles.
"Aa," Yagyuu says. He ducks his head. "Sorry."
The final five days are spent in Xiamen. They take a flight from Beijing south and the world is lusher, greener and brighter. The air in the airport is sticky and warm. Sanada regrets wearing his heavy coat on the air plane now. He was the unlucky student who sat beside the teachers on the flight. As far as he's concerned, it was a godsend.
His postcard to Yukimura is finished. All it needs is a stamp to be mailed.
At the hotel in Xiamen, Sanada shares a room with Yagyuu. Yagyuu snores, but he doesn’t masturbate all the time. Sanada sleeps with a pair of complimentary earplugs that were left on his pillow by a maid. He cups his dick and rolls onto his side. He dreams of Yukimura speaking Chinese to him. Sanada doesn't understand, but he wakes up with sticky thighs. His stomach is settled.
There are palm trees and tea shops everywhere. They visit Nanputuo Temple and eat noodles at a shop in a busy district. There are Chinese people everywhere, like Yokohama's Chinatown times one hundred. On the ferry to Gulangyu Island, Niou pukes over the edge of the boat. A guilty sense of satisfaction creeps through Sanada's chest. He bites his lip to stop smiling. Yagyuu pats Niou's back and holds his rat tail back. Sanada texts Yukimura a message with his cellphone. How r u back home? China is v warm. We went swimming last night!!
He presses send and the reception dies. Sanada frowns.
There are no cars on the island, but there are lots of pianos. Strains of classical music fill the air. A pang of homesickness hits Sanada in the gut-he misses the shamisen music and the silence of the dojo. He misses Yukimura's smile-the wallpaper on his cellphone isn't the same. The green parks don't seem right. It should be the time for scarlet maples and fluttering leaves scattered in the woods, not seagulls and fresh vegetables in the night markets.
Sanada sighs.
On the last night, they visit a park where a traditional dance troupe performs. It's staged and touristy-the audience is filled with gaijin and a few other Japanese. Sanada's bum falls asleep halfway through the performance. He squirms.
Later, after dinner at a nice restaurant that serves milk tea and never-ending fried rice bowls, Niou convinces a man to buy him alcohol. He gets drunk in the night market. Yagyuu takes him back to the hotel. Sanada and Renji walk around with a few other classmates. The Chinese stare at them. Some glare. Most try to sell things. They walk past a booth of tacky Chinese prints of traditional paintings.
"Yukimura likes art, doesn't he?" Renji asks.
Sanada nods. He buys the nicest print: misty mountains and a heron. There are bamboo stalks in broad, bold strokes of paint. Sanada thinks it looks nice.
At the airport, Sanada sends Yukimura a text message. I have something nice 4 u. See u monday!! &hearts
Niou is too hung over to make fun of him this time. Sanada smiles to himself. He sits next to Renji on the flight and takes photographs of China from the air. Roads criss-cross the land until they disappear into the field of blue ocean.
When the flight lands at Narita, the first thing Sanada (and half his classmates) does is flip his cellphone on.
I have something 4 u 2
On Monday, the first thing Yukimura says to Sanada is "Do you want to be my vice-captain?"
The cheap painting in Sanada's tennis bag is so completely insignificant in comparison.
11.
"Being captain is good," Yukimura says.
Sanada sets down the black dry erase marker. He looks at Yukimura. The clubhouse is empty. It is also drafty, which is why Sanada hasn't stripped down and showered yet. He needs to work up the will to rush into the steaming showers in the buff before the cold bites his heels.
Yukimura dangles his set of keys. His keychain has a chibi microbe hanging from it. It's not very manly, but Sanada thinks it is cute.
"'Cause if I tell everyone practice is over, we have the showers all to ourselves."
The marker rolls off the ledge by the whiteboard. Sanada doesn't pick it up.
They've showered together before. They've kissed before-a lot more lately, but they've never done both at once. Yukimura doesn't seem to want to wash his hair. Instead, he keeps kissing Sanada. Sanada pushes him against the wall. The tiles are slippery like Yukimura's tongue. The wall is hard, like Yukimura's dick. Sanada gasps. Yukimura digs his hands into Sanada's shoulder. Sanada clenches his jaw. Yukimura's hand is tight on his dick. He touches Sanada's balls. He lifts his leg and rubs himself on Sanada's thigh. Sanada shakes and comes.
Yukimura grunts. He comes on Sanada's belly. His eyes roll back and his knees wobble when the water starts to run lukewarm. "Sorry," Yukimura says. "My leg fell asleep."
"It's okay," Sanada says. Yukimura's cheeks are still flushed.
On the bus, after, they sit in silence. Sanada hands Yukimura an earbud. They listen to the latest Perfume album on his iPod. Under their bags, Yukimura touches Sanada's knees. The squeeze of his hand is comfortable. He looks at Sanada and his eyes are warm.
Sanada bumps Yukimura's knee with his.
It's a week later, maybe. The team is going out for hotel buffet. There are plans to visit Renji's uncle's pension in Fukushima the last weekend of January. It's Yukimura's handpicked team-Akaya, Marui, Jackal, Niou, and-Sanada's lone pick, to keep Niou in line-Yagyuu.
"There's a place in Urawa we go for 2000 yen all you can eat cake!" Marui says.
"I'm not wasting my money going all the way to fucking Urawa, lardbucket," Niou says.
"Why not ramen?" Jackal asks.
Akaya skips down the steps to the platform. Sanada walks beside Renji, who keeps an eye on all of them. Yukimura is already in line and waiting for them. He turns to wave. Sanada glances back down at the steps. He's used to tripping in his old sneakers. The new Asics ones his mom bought are heaven for his toes.
Sanada looks up. Yukimura stands on platform four one moment. The next, he's on the ground. He falls like a statue and he doesn't move. Someone runs. The train rushes into the station. Sanada freezes on the steps. He flies forward and screams Yukimura's name. It's chaos as commuters swarm them and swarm the train. Someone yells, "Ambulance!" A train attendant in blue runs at them. Streams of people come off the train and the doors close with cheery music that hangs in the air.
It happens in an instant. It happens in an eon. Sanada feels like he is standing there as time whips by. He can't breathe. He gasps for air when a stretcher lifts Yukimura up. Sanada grabs the side. An EMS attendant pushes him away. Sanada's heart shatters.
At the hospital, he doesn't know when, he doesn't know where or the time, or how he got there, he just is. Sanada sits in the sterile hallway. It smells of chemicals. Nurses ask if he's okay. Doctors come in and out of the room Yukimura is in. Sanada can't hear what they say-his ears rush with blood and the echoed sound of Yukimura's body hitting the platform with a thump.
His eyes prick. Sanada tries to cry, but no tears come. His chest collapses and his back shudders.
Akaya grabs a nurse by the arm. "He's our tennis captain! YOU GOTTA FIX HIM NOW!" he shouts. Jackal cries and Marui says nothing. He hands Jackal a tissue. Niou and Yagyuu disappear and come back smelling of cigarettes ten minutes later. Renji stands near Sanada. He says nothing, but sometimes he pats Akaya's back.
Sanada's arms go numb from his posture. His legs lose feeling too.
Yesterday, Yukimura was talking about taking the Nationals for a third straight win. Yesterday, Yukimura was kissing Sanada in the locker room and Sanada's hand was on his bum. Today, Yukimura is in the hospital and paralyzed. No one knows why.
The others leave when Yukimura's family comes. His mother is in tears. His sister looks confused. His father thanks the team for being there. Sanada doesn't move. He hugs his knees and stares at the white wall. Progressive shadows move across the corridor. His stomach rumbles. He gets up to find a bathroom and piss. The bathroom mirror shows red eyes and white lips. Sanada punches the cement wall. He feels nothing but a dull throb.
The hospital operates like a body, continually working and moving. Nurses change. Doctors come and go. Yukimura's family retreats into the lobby for mochi and coffee. Sanada sits by the door. He won't leave. He can't leave.
The door to the room is open a crack. A woman's voice-the nurse-says, "It's a severe and incurable disease, isn't it?"
Something wet slithers down Sanada's face. The metallic tang of blood floods his mouth.
The nurse adds, "Tennis will probably be impossible for him."
The world could end in a fiery cataclysm and Sanada won't notice. He stares at the corridor wall until his eyes go dry. A nurse taps him on the shoulder. All he can hear are the beeps and hisses from machines in Yukimura's room.
His cell buzzes in his pocket. Sanada looks at the time. The numbers are blurry. It's 5:21am. He stands up and looks at the closed door that Yukimura lies behind. He presses his palm to the cool metal and peers into the small window at eye level. Sanada can see nothing but a drawn curtain. Vaguely, he is aware that he is breathing. Vaguely, he is aware that he is moving.
Sanada goes to the school. He's there before the first light breaks over the eastern courts. The winter air cuts through his uniform. The cold wind whips his hair and gnaws at his bare ears, and his bare hands. He is alone and the dawn is dim.
None of the regulars are late. None of the regulars have dry eyes when Sanada walks up to them and says, "We will win the nationals for Yukimura."
12.
The pain evolves from a sharp, disabling stab, to a constant dull throb.
Sanada takes over the tennis practices-he has to. Renji isn’t authoritative enough. Yagyuu is too polite. Niou is too annoying. Marui and Jackal are too chummy with the pre-regulars and Akaya…
Sanada shudders.
There is no one to back him up. There is no pillar of support. There is only Sanada and the hundred laps he doles out. He runs them, too. Renji tells him what their training menu should be: laps, stretches, drills, swings and practice matches. Before, Yukimura handled this. There is no room for error without him. Sanada will not risk reneging on their promise.
He grows used to the complaining. He grows used to the muffled hisses and glares of the team members as they start their laps, no more questions asked. Akaya spoke back to him last week, after skipping the morning practice. "I…uh…accidentally went to Tokyo," he said. "But it's not a big deal. I almost played Tezuka-"
The anger bubbled up inside. Sanada smacked the smirk off the kid's face. The frustration built up inside manifested in his hand. It should have been a relief. It should have felt good. Instead, Sanada's hand throbbed. Akaya had a bruise for three days after.
Each day without Yukimura feels like an eternity. Sanada practices with Renji, or sometimes with the brat or Yagyuu. Gone are their friendly rallies and the long looks over the net. Now, Sanada yells at Yagyuu. "Your footwork is awful! You call that tennis?"
Yagyuu fumbles with his return. His lips move. He's swearing under his breath-Niou's taught him too many bad habits.
There is no one to sit with on the rooftop at lunch. The garden up there that Yukimura helped tend has grown neglected this season. Weeds and grass overrun the azalea beds. The flowers are choked off. Sanada starts to sit in his classroom. It is loud and there are too many girls giggling. He scowls and chews on his mochi. He works on his homework. He makes a new list of practice games. Sometimes, he monitors the hallways to get away from the perfume and hair clips and makeup and short skirts.
"Stop that!" he yells at two students. They were kissing in the stairwell. The boy, who has bad teeth and dyed hair, rolls his eyes. He gives Sanada the finger when Sanada walks away. His chest tightens, but he is used to the feeling now.
When he goes to the clubhouse in the afternoon, the sun is hot and streaming through the small windows. Yukimura always arrived early with him. Now, the clubhouse is dusty and smells of mildew. Jackal and Niou didn't clean it properly. The chore chart on the bulletin board has been ripped off again. Sanada cannot find it in the rubbish bin.
Winning is everything. "Winning is the only thing that matters," Sanada tells the team. They nod. Even Niou looks up from under his bangs.
"The only thing?" Niou asks. His teeth flash. He's dangerous. He twirls his racket around his hand, but his eyes are focused on Sanada.
Sanada stares back. A cicada hums, then several more. They grow louder every day as the summer rolls into Kanagawa, a swelter of damp air and smog and dripping green. "Do whatever it takes," he says. For Yukimura.
There is no guilt or remorse seeing the rival teams crumple one by one. Watching Akaya slam balls into players does not fill the hollow in Sanada's stomach. Having Renji and Jackal purposely hold back their skills, then attack with sharp moves does not warm the cold in Sanada's chest. Gathering win after win as they cut down their opponents in each of the tournaments does not fix Yukimura.
The memory of Yukimura's collapse is too raw. Last week, he was hooked up to ventilators. This week, he walks on the hospital rooftop with them. His skin is translucent. His eyes are sunken. His body is frail and skeletal. Sanada touches his hand and Yukimura's bony fingers cannot hold his back.
Sanada blinks at the sting in his eyes. He takes his hand away. No one notices.
"We will bring you the regionals trophy next month," he says.
Yukimura's smile is wan and forced. He starts to wheeze. Jackal and Marui grab him, but he doesn't collapse on the bench. A train rushes by in the distance. The sky is tinged with yellow pollution.
Yukimura opens his mouth. His sinking shoulders twist the knife in Sanada's belly. You don't need to speak, he thinks.
Akaya stands up and slams his hand on the chain link fence. "But without buchou, we'll have a blind spot-"
"Don’t let this overwhelm you…" Yukimura starts. He clutches his chest. Sanada's heart seizes.
"Yukimura!"
Yukimura's hand is too weak to push him away.
"Take care of your body," Sanada says, "and we'll take care of the rest."
Sanada cannot cure him. Renji looks up all the information on Guillain Barré that he can, but it is never enough. At night, Sanada lays on his futon. The laundry flutters outside the windows. He wonders if the sight of the gilded regionals trophy would make Yukimura smile again. He masturbates, but he doesn't come. He called Yukimura earlier, but a nurse answered. Yukimura is always tired. Sanada's body feels tired, too, and coiled up tight like a spring. But it never decompresses. Hitting Akaya does nothing. Smacking Marui for slacking on laps does nothing. Winning against Hanomiya in the district preliminaries was laughable.
Sanada takes his hand out of his yukata. He wipes it on his sheets and sighs. His throat is tight when he thinks of Yukimura. His mind is scarred with the sound of Yukimura's body hitting the train platform. Wet tears form in his eyes, but he wipes them away before he starts to cry.
The team goes out for ramen. Akaya and Marui and Niou skip ahead. "We should do nagashi somen sometime," Marui says. "We could use the tools in the tech classroom and make a board…"
"Tarundoru," Sanada mutters. Renji walks beside him. His cell beeps, but he does not answer. Sanada looks at him.
Renji raises an eyebrow. "Seishun Gakuen took the Tokyo district preliminaries," he says. "And they've swept the prefecturals too."
"Is that Tezuka's team?" Sanada asks.
Renji smiles. His lips are cold and thin. His eyes are small and black. "Yes."
Sanada grunts. "If we play them, he's mine."
"Of course."
In the dojo, Tezuka is the straw dummy. The steel blade catches the soft light from the bulb overhead, and the pearly glow from the moon outside. Sanada's feet don't make a sound, but the hakama swishes. He poses. The dummy looks at him. Sanada breathes in and his nostrils flare.
The blade is fast like lightning, and just as swift. The dummy recoils, still and stiff and then, as Sanada exhales, the top falls off. It hits the ground from a clean slice straight to the gut. Dust swirls up. Sanada steps back.
"Come at me, Tezuka," he murmurs.
Tezuka doesn't respond.
13.
Sanada writes Yukimura letters.
They are stupid, asinine things. He knows this. He doesn't appreciate Niou hovering at lunch when Sanada spreads a sheet of stationary on top of his textbook.
"Moyashimon?" Niou asks.
Sanada snatches it back. He glares. "My mother bought it for me," he says. Niou snickers more.
He writes about Renji catching crickets and keeping them in jars for Akaya to take home. He writes about the nagashi somen ramp they're going to build, as soon as Niou brings his screwdriver. He writes about going to the amusement park with Jackal-Sanada didn't want to go, but Marui was busy and Jackal had no one else. The haunted house was scary. Too much fake blood and the sweaty stink of people inside. There was a ghost, pale and gaunt and made of paper maché that dropped onto their head and groaned. Sanada couldn't stop thinking about Yukimura then. He hated it.
He writes about going to Denny's with Yagyuu to try the mango parfaits and he writes about the weight Marui puts on (so Sanada makes him wear ankle weights, too). The letters are light and stupid. There is nothing serious, except for the way Sanada signs them, always.
We hope you get better soon! Please do your best!
He can never sign them 'love', or 'I need you'. He feels guilty thinking about it. He drills his body harder. Sanada tells Yagyuu and Renji "I'll sweep the courts". The sun is setting golden over the confession tree. Heat ripples on the courts. The hundred laps have worn the clay baselines and smeared them. Nobody questions him. Nobody stays late.
Sanada rolls out the ball machine. He stocks it, then sets the self mode. He slams ball after ball across the net. He grinds his teeth and imagines his opponents: Tezuka, Atobe, Chitose from Shishigaku and even that freshman from Seigaku he has heard rumours of. Sanada breathes hard. He sweats hard. He smashes and punts until the rubber soles of his runners burn and his racket drops from his hand. His fingers are numb. His forearm seizes up. There are bruises on his legs from the missed balls-only two today.
It won't happen again.
Under the cover of descending evening, when the swarms of insects cling to his skin and his cap, Sanada brushes the broom over the courts. It is mindless and mechanical. His mind can slow and think as he turns a corner, pushing the leaves and dust up. Yukimura does not respond to his letters. Sanada does not want him to. He needs to think about his health.
On Wednesdays, Sanada goes to the hospital. For months he has come. The nurses know his face. They smile at him with polite nods. Sanada touches his cap to pull it over his face. He doesn't know what to say to the nurses ever. Small talk is wasteful.
Yukimura's door is open. Sanada hesitates to knock. Young voices are inside, then the sound of Yukimura's laughter. It is faint and laboured. Sanada swallows. His chest hurts. There is a silence, a whisper, then two children come out. They wave to Yukimura from the doorway and run past Sanada. Their feet patter down the hallway. One boy has no hair. The other has bruises on his face and a cast on his arm. Sanada says nothing.
Yukimura sits up in bed. His hair is matted at the back. There is a drip hooked up to his hand that he starts to itch. He tries to smile at Sanada. It never reaches his eyes. Sanada takes off his cap and closes the door. He stands by the window across the tiny room.
"Sanada," Yukimura says.
Sanada looks at the stack of cards and letters on the small table. There is a bamboo plant in a ceramic pot, and two vases of flowers. They wilt. Yukimura's voice is thin and frail. Sanada bites his lip, but his eyes keep stinging.
"Thank you for the letters," Yukimura says.
"It's nothing," Sanada says. He looks out the window. All he can see are concrete buildings and traffic. Yukimura's room smells of alcoholic antiseptic and urine. Sanada's throat feels tight.
"Will you take me to Denny's one day?" he asks. "We can have a date there."
Sanada turns. Yukimura's eyes twist his chest: they are dark and hollow and they reflect the artificial lighting.
Yukimura winces. "Sanada," he whispers.
Sanada doesn't know what to do. Yukimura touches the IV on his hand. It is taped to his skin. He picks at the edges, but presses them back down.
"I'm scared," he murmurs.
Sanada sits beside him. He touches the hard bed with one palm, with his other, he touches Yukimura's hand. It is cold and thin. Yukimura looks too young, but his eyes are old. Sanada swallows hard and the lump doesn't leave his chest. They start to kiss. He doesn't know who starts it. Yukimura needs him to be strong. Yukimura needs him.
Yukimura's lips are dry and cracked. His kisses are weak. He barely kisses back. Mostly, he sits on his bed and lets Sanada run his hand through his hair. Yukimura sighs into Sanada's mouth. His body is bony when Sanada touches his arm and his chest. Yukimura hisses. He closes his eyes and moans. Sanada pulls back.
They sit in silence after. Yukimura scratches his hand. Sanada tastes the medicine on his lips. It makes his mouth tingle. It tastes chalky and dead. Then, he leaves.
There is a Denny's down the street from the hospital. Sanada orders a bowl of tomato and ham ramen. He eats alone in a booth made for two.
Three days later when the team visits, Yukimura tells them that he will go ahead with the surgery.
14.
There is no excuse for losing.
Sanada stands at the baseline. His body hums with effort and excursion. Sweat plasters his uniform to his skin. The crowds cheer, the stands are alive and vibrant, people laughing and screaming and crying from the victory just announced.
But it isn't his victory.
It isn't Rikkai's win.
He refuses the second place trophy. If he doesn't accept it, it never happened. Sanada can hear Niou and Yagyuu making fun of him behind his back. He can see Marui stuffing something under his t-shirt. He can hear Renji's apologies and Akaya's sniffling. Mostly, he hears the sound of crows cawing. There is a hot breeze from the direction of the ocean. The squawking of seagulls is carried on that, too.
The sun is unforgiving. Sanada doesn't sweat. He packs his racket away. He zips his bag up. His hands are white and cold-he can't feel them anymore. The support team and the cheerleaders have left. There is no one but here him, and Renji's droning.
Shut up! Sanada thinks.
"It's my fault, Genichirou. It's my fault-what do we tell Seiichi?"
Sanada breathes through his nose. He straps his bag over his shoulder. It is heavy and his shoulder aches. His eyes are dry and he cannot stop blinking. Sanada pulls at the brim of his cap. Yukimura is out of surgery now. There are probably tubes hooked up to his hand and mouth and between his legs. He is probably naked and alone with nurses monitoring his every movement. He has no privacy, the same way that Sanada has none here. Renji doesn't leave.
"I don't know," Sanada says. He walks away. The food stands have packed up and left. Empty shaved ice cups blow around by a rubbish bin. It swarms with insects and smells of rotten food. Sanada rubs his eyes. They hurt, too.
"It's my fault, Genichirou. It's my fault…"
Sanada turns around. He glares at Renji. Shut up! Renji looks up at him and stumbles forward on his large feet. For a moment, there is a thick wave of tension between them. It might be the heat. The cicadas hum. Renji's eye twitches and the moment is broken.
At the train station, they part. Renji catches the local line in the direction of home. Sanada catches the line in the direction of Kannai General. Three stops later, he gets off and turns around.
It would be family-only for Yukimura right now. Sanada waits at the platform for the next train. He leans on a vending machine and gags. Defeat burns his throat. It tastes of failure, chalky and dirty. He feels ill all the way home. He stomps up to his bedroom and slides his door closed. The futon base is folded up in the corner. The cover is draped over one of the balconies on the main floor.
Sanada curls into a ball and squeezes his eyes shut. His uniform is sweaty and it smells. His cellphone rings, but he does not answer. His mom knocks at the door and asks if he is okay. Sanada can smell miso soup wafting in under his door.
He says nothing. He lays his cheek on the cool floor and bites back a sniffle. He's failed in keeping his promise to Yukimura and he doesn't know how to fix it. Yukimura has never failed. Yukimura has never lost.
Tomorrow, they will meet at the hospital. Tomorrow, it will be his duty to tell Yukimura. Tomorrow, it will be him who has to face the punishment.
He doesn't sleep. At half-past three, Sanada slides his door open. The hallway is dark. There is a tray of cold food by his doorframe. He tiptoes past. A window is open somewhere. Cool night air blows through the house. Sanada's eyes are crusty. His armpits are damp and smelly when he changes into the hakama.
The sword is heavy in his hands. His racket felt that way after the game. The straw dummy is Echizen's height. It smirks at him. "Mada mada dane." Sanada picks the sword up and he breathes. Each inhale is faster and sharper as the rage builds. He clenches his teeth and jaw. He shakes. The sword is alive in his hands as he hacks at the dummy. Straw flies up in a flurry. Sanada keeps chopping at the dummy until there is nothing left.
He falls to his knees and groans. The sword hits the tatami with a dull clink.
Sanada arrives at the hospital an hour early. He has not showered since yesterday morning. The train was full of commuters. The walk from the station was hotter still. The sunlight reflects off the cement facades and multiplies in intensity. Sanada thinks of nothing, and everything. He thinks of Yukimura's agony written over his face when he fell that day. He thinks of Yukimura's weak voice whispering "I'm scared". He thinks of Yukimura on a cold, metal table being sliced up-he would not have bled, because there was nothing left of him.
Outside the hospital, Sanada pauses. He clenches his fist. He stares at the automatic doors. They open and close, open and close. There is a rhythm to their motions. He swallows a hard lump and enters. He is the first one to come. Sanada sits in a hard plastic seat and waits. When the others arrive, he says nothing. Yagyuu asks if they can visit Yukimura Seiichi-kun on the seventh floor, children's ward.
Sanada closes his eyes. Yukimura is too young. His heart catches in his ribs and pushes out. Sanada tries to breathe, but the elevator stifles. Akaya's hair is in his face. Niou's slouch pokes him in the leg. Marui's gum smells too sweet and fake.
The others wait in the hallway. Sanada pushes the door open. His heart is in his throat and on his sleeve. He purses his lips so tight that he cannot feel them. Yukimura sits up in bed when the door closes. The sheets rustle. His face is a mask. The machine to his right beeps faster.
Sanada's pulse quickens. He opens his mouth. The words are mechanical. He has practiced them in his mind all morning. "Yukimura, I'm sorry." Sanada does not recognize his hollow voice. But he cannot cringe, either. His face will not move. His face will not turn from Yukimura's blank stare.
"During the Kanto Regionals, Seigaku-"
"Don't talk to me! DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT TENNIS!" Yukimura screams. Sanada sucks a breath in. His eyes are wide. Yukimura keeps yelling. "Get OUT! GET OUT!" His face contorts. His eyes flash with that same ill light they've had for months. Now, it is replaced with pure anger. His voice echoes in Sanada's ears.
Sanada can only do what Yukimura says. The door clicks to a close. The team looks at him. Sanada stares beyond them at the wall. His throat is closed up. Someone asks him how Yukimura is. Sanada's knuckles crack. His breathing shudders. But he says nothing, he does nothing.
They leave.
Sanada sits by the door. His heart sits on the floor bleeding next to him. There are beeps from Yukimura's room. Sanada thinks he can hear the sound of crying. He hopes it isn't his own. His body is so numb that he cannot tell.
When Yukimura's family comes with coffee cups and flowers, he doesn't leave.
When his phone rings and the corridor grows dark after sunset, he doesn't leave.
Sanada takes a piss when the night shift nurses take over. He goes to classes when morning arrives. He eats lunch by himself at a cafeteria table in the corner. He goes to afternoon classes, and then he goes back to the hospital.
Until Yukimura forgives him, he will not give up.
***
On the third night, the door slides open. Sanada's chin had been resting on his knees. His thighs were asleep. His cap is on the floor beside his backpack.
A slipper toes his arm. Sanada blinks.
"You smell," Yukimura says. When he crouches down beside Sanada and touches his cheek, Sanada starts to cry.
"You're my strength, Sanada" Yukimura says.
15.
Summer evenings take on a certain chill in the hills where Sanada lives. He's still wearing his trackpants but he changed into a clean t-shirt at home. Sweat has dried on his skin and makes the back of his hair a little matted. The sunscreen he slathered on this morning has become dusty and dirty from today's games.
He sets down the tray of tea on the floor of his bedroom. Normally, Sanada doesn't eat or drink here: it could spill. The room is cool from the open window. Yukimura sits by his folded futon. His family hasn't bothered them tonight, not even Sanada's brother. It is quiet, except for the chirp of crickets outside and the soft chime of the furins.
"Nagoya Seitoku was kinda funny," Yukimura says. He smiles and his face is still thin, but better than he was at his worst. Sanada has seen him live through hell and endure it. Now Yukimura's features are sharper and his limbs longer, leaner. Now, Yukimura doesn't laugh as much and when he does, it lacks the childish warmth and naiveté he once had. Sanada had it too.
"They were fools," Sanada says. The gaijin he played trembled when the rouse was called. He shook when Sanada stepped onto the court. For a Nationals level game, it was a joke. 6-0 and Sanada didn't break a sweat. He only sweated because he sat under the hot Tokyo sun waiting for Renji and Niou to play.
The finals are scheduled for tomorrow, but the trees rustle and the wind stirs. There is a chemical scent in the air and the salty smell of ocean, too. A storm is coming tonight. The games will be pushed back another week.
Seigaku will not win this time.
Earlier, as they were walking to the train station after the games, Seigaku walked past them. Sanada raised his eyebrows. Renji glared at the Seigaku's Inui and Akaya laughed. Yagyuu and Jackal wore twin expressions of vague amusement when Marui stopped to point them out.
"Oi! Seigaku!" he called.
Sanada did not want to see that Echizen brat. He did not want to relive the past. But the sight of Tezuka's tall, thin frame and the glint from his glasses made Sanada turn. Yukimura was beside him.
Niou was the one to leer at Fuji Shuusuke. "Puri," he said. Sanada has never understood what that nonsense word meant. But he did understand the flash of challenge in Niou's eyes and the thin smile Fuji returned.
Oishi stepped forward, not Tezuka. He looked at Sanada with focused eyes and his chin held high: vice-captain to vice-captain once more. "We're going for yakiniku with some of the other teams from Kanto," he said. Then, Oishi chewed his lip when Sanada stared back from under his cap. Yukimura said nothing. Sanada could hear him laugh under his breath when Oishi asked, "Do you want to come, too?"
Akaya and Marui turned their radar ears. "Eh?" Niou added.
Sanada's stomach churned. He ate a packed bento his mom made for lunch, and some of the watermelon he jellies brought. Yukimura looked at Oishi. Then he looked at Tezuka. Yukimura laughed, but the dusky light of a golden summer sunset never reached his eyes.
"We have work to do," he said.
Oishi forced a laugh. "Maybe another time," he offered.
"Maybe," Yukimura agreed. No is what his smile said.
Instead, they went home to Kanagawa. "Training tonight again?" Marui moaned.
"I wanted to eat yakiniku," Akaya whined. "I wanted to be number-"
"Two," Niou said. His hand was clamped over Akaya's mouth (until the brat bit him). "Because I'd whoop your ass at any yakiniku battle."
They started to argue. Sanada closed his eyes. The salarymen on the train could hear every word and it made him flush with anger and embarrassment that the team was acting like children. But if Yukimura thought it was funny and laughed behind his hand, Sanada would say nothing.
Instead, he and Yukimura went to his home for supper. Instead, they ate cold leftover curry and soba noodles in wasabi and shoyu. Instead of practicing more, he and Yukimura went upstairs to his bedroom and closed the door when Sanada set the tray of tea down.
Instead, Yukimura leans back on Sanada's futon. His eyes are half-closed and heavy. His lip is curled and his mouth parted. He breathes into the fragrant night air. The world is alive before a storm. The gathering gusts make it harder and harder to hear noises from the other parts of the house.
His bedroom walls constrict around them, crunching the space between him and Yukimura. Sanada's chest tightens, too, and his dick is swollen. His skin might be cold, but his insides are hot and melting when Yukimura licks his lips.
"Sanada," he says.
Sanada shifts his weight to his other foot. The floorboards creak under the tatami. It is the only sound apart from the rushing wind outside and the thumping pulse of his blood in his ears.
Yukimura touches his collarbone. His fingers drag along his neck and settle under the collar of his t-shirt. He's sweaty and dusty too. His hair is messed from lying back on the futon. His headband has crawled up his forehead. He moans when Sanada pushes him down and kisses him. Sanada kisses hard, deep. He can taste the remnants of supper on Yukimura's tongue when he sucks it. He can feel Yukimura's erection on his thigh. It makes his dick swell harder. Sanada takes Yukimura's hands from his shoulders and he presses them into the futon. Yukimura wriggles.
"Stay still!" Sanada hisses.
Yukimura arches into him. His eyes dance and they are dark. He gasps when Sanada touches his stomach. He groans when Sanada reaches under his waistband where the skin burns. Yukimura shivers when Sanada curls his hand around his dick.
They have never done this before.
Sanada kisses Yukimura's neck. He licks the dried sweat. He tastes the grime of the courts. Sanada inhales Yukimura's rank smell in his armpits and the deodorant, too. Yukimura shudders and his legs widen. His stomach shakes. Sanada squeezes his dick harder. He pulls and tugs and rubs until he can feel something hot and wet and new between his fingers. Yukimura throws an arm over his eyes. He thrusts into Sanada's hand and then-
Yukimura slides back to the floor. He's boneless. Sanada's body is drawn so tight that when Yukimura takes his hand and sucks his thumb, then his index finger, Sanada rubs his dick on Yukimura's leg. He comes. His mouth is open and his teeth graze Yukimura's shoulder.
When his body stops shaking, Sanada apologizes.
"Why?" Yukimura asks. He slides his hands over Sanada's back. They are warm under his t-shirt. His fingers make lazy circles on Sanada's spine. The first raindrops patter on the roof and hit Sanada's window at a low angle.
"I…" Sanada hangs his head. "We shouldn't."
Yukimura digs his fingers in. Sanada looks up.
"I thought of my health for weeks," he says. "I want to think of something else now."
Sanada can't think of anything to say. He breathes. Yukimura's hair stirs.
"If we win-when we win," Yukimura whispers, "let's go all the way." Yukimura kisses him. Sanada's mouth stays open when Yukimura pulls back. The corners of his eyes have tiny wrinkles. "Genichirou."
16.
When he steps onto the court, Sanada thinks of nothing else but him.
Five years of history between them and not once has he been able to defeat Tezuka Kunimitsu.
This will be my revenge, Sanada thinks. Tezuka is weak. His arm is thin and he strains through his shots. Each point Sanada gains gives him more drive. He is flush with the impending victory. Tezuka clenches his teeth. He says nothing when Sanada shouts, "Is that it?" He says nothing when Sanada yells, "Nothing will stop my victory!" Sanada laughs. Tezuka's feet move-there's no Tezuka zone this time. He has to chase Sanada's balls across the court. They come faster and faster. Sanada uses a backhand, then two hands. He cuts the balls. He slices them. He whips them and waves them and wields his racket. Tezuka stumbles. He's wounded by the game. His eyes never leave Sanada. It's the same look he has had for five years.
It's the same look that Sanada has never been able to crush.
"I'm sick of seeing your face!" Sanada shouts.
He has saved his best moves for this match. Last night, he told Yukimura to put his name in singles three.
"I already did," Yukimura said.
Sanada strikes like lightning-the courts are on fire. He moves and he's at the baseline. The ball is at the net. He moves again and he is at the net. The ball is at Tezuka's baseline. It slams into his blindspot. The crowds cheer. Sanada grins. He throws his head back and laughs.
Tezuka keeps staring.
Sanada's laugh falters for a beat. He looks at Tezuka's fallen racket. The gut is broken. His lightning has struck through it.
"There are some balls that cannot be returned," Sanada says.
"There are some balls that do not need to be returned," Tezuka says.
Sanada curls his lip. You bastard, he thinks.
The lightning sparks inside. Sanada's body tingles, but he has not Self-Actualized. He strikes again, and again, and again. He moves silent and stealthy like a shadow and still Tezuka's eyes will not darken and give up. Tezuka stumbles. His arm drops. His team shouts and his arm is sweating and pulsing with congealed blood. Sanada shakes. He glares and purses his lips. Power courses through his arm into his racket. It is alive and flashing in the August sun that blinds the ball from view. Sanada's shadow moves. The air crackles with electricity.
Still, Tezuka doesn't give up. Sanada will accept the challenge.
And the ball starts to circle towards Tezuka. Dust plumes puff up in clouds around his feet. Sanada knows this. His heart skips a beat. His shoulders tighten. The ball veers up at an angle and crackles in the air.
Sanada rushes the net and his legs seize up. They won't move. Sanada's eyes fly open. Tezuka looks at him. His glasses have not slipped down his nose even though his face drips with sweat. Sweat sluices down Sanada's forehead, too. The ball comes at him, but he cannot run for it. His knees are bent and his sneakers are cemented in place. He screams.
Point, Tezuka.
It has been five years in the making and Sanada struggles now. The game turns tide to Tezuka. His phantom balls seal the lightning. They are light and feathery and curve around the net. Sanada runs but his legs give out again. He skins his knees. He seethes. He runs the other way and catches the ball on his racket rim. It lobs. Tezuka smashes. Sanada's chest collapses. NO!
They change courts. The game is tied. Tezuka speaks with his vice-captain, his best friend. Sanada speaks with no one. Freshmen minions on the team offer him water. A junior offers a towel. Sanada's eyes sting. His legs are limp and noodley. They collapse under him when he sinks onto the bench. He stares out at the court.
"Leave me alone!" he yells at the next bottle shoved in his face.
A nylon jacket rustles. Sanada stiffens. He looks up. He stands up. Yukimura looks at him with a brittle smile. His eyes are cold and hard. There is nothing but the game now. Neither of them will consider the consequences until the time.
Yukimura's face says it all. Sanada grinds his teeth. He balls his fist. He turns heel to stomp back onto the court, but his ankle catches. His voice is sharp when he says, "You're going to tell me to forget about a head-on challenge."
Yukimura's eyes settle on Sanada's racket. In the sweet spot, the strings dip in. They have been bent by the Phantom.
"Yes," he says. "Do whatever it takes to win our third championship."
It is Tezuka's serve. Sanada freezes at the baseline. He will not look at Yukimura. You are asking me to throw this away! he wants to scream. Yukimura sits on the bench. There is no expression on his face, but his arms are crossed. Sanada wants to hit him. His hand curls around his racket handle, then he loosens his grip when the serve sounds.
Sanada tries to strike, but his foot goes dead. He cups his racket and tips the angle. Instead, the shot is light and silent, like the forest. He groans and glares as Tezuka returns the lob with another Phantom. Nothing can escape the pull. It killed Sanada five years ago. History will repeat itself again.
No!
He could aim for Tezuka's elbow. He could aim for Tezuka's arm and no one would know any better. It could be over in four points if he gave into the temptation of Yukimura's words. How sweet it would be to have Tezuka on his knees in defeat and for his gaze to finally waver.
Sanada slices the ball. It rips across his racket. Tezuka's arm slips and his racket starts to fall. It's match point. He hurls the ball over the net. It is all Tezuka can do to return with a volley. It is so low that Sanada sucks in a breath. The ball hits the net right on the ribbon.
No!
Shit!
I WON'T LOSE!
Sanada starts to run. The ball wavers and decides where to fall. Everything is on the line. Sanada forces his legs to move. He forces his blood to pump and his lungs to open to give him the last effort he needs. A cord ball holds his fate.
Sanada drives.
Sanada screams. He screams for the five years of frustration. He screams for the past year. He screams for Yukimura and for himself. It is pure chance that his racket recoils with the ping of the ball hitting it. Sanada glares at the ball. He glowers. He burns a hole through the yellow felt and wills the ball to bounce high enough to go back over. His body is a smear across the court. Tezuka is crumpled at the baseline. His racket is halfway across the court.
The ball dances on the net. "THE WINNER WILL BE SEIAGKU!" Tezuka screams.
"DROP OVER THE OTHER SIDE!" Sanada screams. He collapses onto his back. The ball bounces and silence falls like a pin drop.
The referee announces, "Game set won by-"
Sanada squeezes his eyes closed.
"Sanada Genichirou, 7-5!"
Tezuka's hand is warm when they shake. His eyes stare. Sanada feels something stir in his stomach. He doesn't want to admit that it is admiration.
When he walks off court, Sanada doesn't feel a sense of vengeance served, or that victorious thrill in his stomach. He doesn't feel a sense of completion or satisfaction. Yukimura touches Sanada's shoulder and Sanada feels nothing but a clammy hand on his sore muscles.
He will never again play someone the likes of Tezuka.
Yukimura loses to that twelve year old brat anyway. The season comes full circle.
16.
It's the end of the season.
The first maples have begun to blush red and the ginkos are gilded on their fingertips. The air has a crispness that wasn't there before and the nights are growing longer. Homework piles up. Deadlines to high school entrance exams loom closer. Sanada walks on the pavement from school behind the group of freshmen. His pants hems drag in the mud puddles. His shoes are soaked through. Practice was wet. The sky keeps drizzling.
Sanada gave his umbrella to Urayama Shiita. Urayama skips along beside Yukimura. The umbrella bobs over his head. There are a dozen freshmen between Sanada and Yukimura, all of whom need to be walked home. Yukimura insisted on treating them during his last day as buchou. Sanada's head hurts from the arcade. Akaya was there too.
Pachinko balls ring in his ears. The UFO catcher grates his skull. Rain sluices down Sanada's neck where his cap doesn't cover. It is cool and he shivers. The days are warm when the sun is out. Now, in early evening, the world is cold and grey. Red lanterns of noodle bars and yakitori joints glow in the drizzling streets. The neighbourhood is cast in an eerie glow.
The group pauses at a small wooden gate next to a ryokan, tucked away in a narrow alley. Another freshman dropped off at home, safe. Yukimura waves. The gate closes. They keep walking. Urayama keeps skipping. Sanada walks too close to the edge of the road. A car drives by and a flood of oil-streaked water splashes onto Sanada's right leg. He frowns.
One by one the freshmen are dropped off. One by one the line diminishes. Sanada steps closer to Yukimura. He follows behind in silence. The rain falls. Water catches in the trees overhead. Bursts of wind send splashes down onto his arms and his head. Sanada breathes through his nose and closes his eyes. It is his last duty as fukubuchou. Yukimura asked this of him.
Urayama Shiita is the last freshman. Sanada's sneakers are sludgy and his socks stick between his toes. There is a large puddle in the sidewalk crack in front of the Urayama family gate. Sanada does not realize this until his toes lose feeling. He looks down. His jaw tightens. He steps left, but the puddle is even deeper there.
Yukimura's umbrella tips when he leans to open the gate. A new flood of water drips onto Sanada's shoulder. The sun has set entirely now and the house shines onto the street. Yellow light streams through the windows; it wavers in the puddles by Sanada's feet. No doubt, it is warm and dry inside the freshman's house. Urayama's cheeks are pink from the walk. He rushes up to his doorway. "Goodbye buchou! I'm so jealous of all your wins!" he calls.
Yukimura smiles at him. "Good luck next year! Win another Nationals for me!"
Urayama ducks his head. He folds up Sanada's umbrella, then he turns around with wide eyes. He runs back to the gate and holds the umbrella out to Sanada.
"Thank you, too, fukubuchou," he mutters. He bows his head. Sanada takes the umbrella. He doesn't open it until Urayama is inside and the door has closed.
He and Yukimura stand in the rain together. Now the junior high tennis club is finished for them. Yukimura stares at the puddles gathering under their feet. His face is wet. Sanada doesn't know if it is from the rain or not.
His stomach flutters like the autumn leaves on trees. The rain makes the fragile leaves heavy. More and more fall with the rain as they walk to the end of the street. The smell of exhaust is thick, and the cold chemical scent of rain hangs in the suburbs. Yukimura's brow knits. Sanada's hands are cold around his umbrella handle. He holds it closer to Yukimura to bridge the gap between them.
"Do you want to go to a café?" he asks. The light from the Starbucks sign down the street glows white and green. The rain drips off the ribs of their umbrellas and splashes on their arms. Yukimura looks away from Sanada. He faces the street and mumbles something. It is cold enough that his teeth chatter. Sanada cannot hear what Yukimura says.
"Yukimura?"
Yukimura turns slowly. He lifts his umbrella up. His face is pale and his lips are too. Sanada leans forward. Fear rises and he lunges to grab Yukimura, but Yukimura never falls. Instead, his mouth moves and he repeats himself. The words echo on the lonely street. Rain continues to fall around them, splattering their clothing.
"No one's home. Come over."
Sanada shivers. His insides twist up, and then unravel as they walk, wordless, to Yukimura's apartment. It takes maybe ten minutes by bus. Sanada looks out the window at the rushing suburbs. He hugs his tennisbag close because Yukimura sits beside him. Their skin is cold and clammy and pressed together, from elbows to knees. It makes electricity flicker in Sanada's spine. He shivers again.
Is this what it will be like…?
He closes his eyes. Yukimura presses the button to call the stop. Blood rushes in Sanada's ears as they walk to the apartment building. It is as grey as the sky, drab concrete with a dozen identical balconies. No futons are hung outside today. It's still raining.
The apartment is cool and dark inside. What little light of day there was has darkened to a dim blackness over the city. Sanada waits in the doorway. His shoes drip all over the floor. There is a pair of guest slippers Yukimura toes at him. Sanada can't move.
Yukimura walks up to him. He doesn't press with words, but he places his palm over Sanada's throbbing heart. His hair is wet under Sanada's chin. His lips are hot on Sanada's neck.
"Do you remember the first day of junior high school?" he asks. "When we had lunch together?"
Sanada's breath is shuddered. He tries to lift his hands from his sides to push Yukimura away. He tries to open his mouth to speak and say no, they're too young for this. He tries to resist the urges in his body and the swollen flush creeping over his skin, making his dick twitch and his insides burn. Sanada does nothing.
Yukimura looks at him. In the darkness of the hallway, he is silhouetted by the lights streaming through a window opposite. The curtains billow softly like a ghost. Yukimura licks his ear. Sanada's belly shivers.
"I liked you from the very first day," Yukimura murmurs. "You'll be my first."
First love…
Sanada squeezes his eyes closed. He opens his mouth to breath and somehow, instead, he starts to kiss Yukimura. He pushes Yukimura into the wall. Their teeth clack. Someone says "Ow!", but they keep kissing. Yukimura tastes like popcorn from the arcade. His lips are salty but his tongue is hot and wet and sweet inside Sanada's mouth. Sanada groans. Yukimura pushes his shirt up to touch Sanada's skin.
In Yukimura's room, they have sex on the floor. It is the first time Sanada has seen Yukimura naked like this, his dick hard and swollen and weeping. It is the first time Yukimura has seen Sanada like this. "Do you like this?" he moans. Yukimura throws his head back. The floor is cold and covered in crumbs. Yukimura doesn't complain, except when Sanada hesitates to rub his palm over Yukimura's dick hard enough.
"Your form is terrible!" Yukimura says. He squeezes Sanada's hand in his. "Harder!" When Sanada tightens his hand, Yukimura's knees buck. His body shakes. His toes dig into a biology textbook. Yukimura's mewls strike the match that catches fire in Sanada's balls. They roll around on the floor and kiss.
"I have everything," Yukimura says. He kisses the back of Sanada's neck. He kisses Sanada's spine. His flaming kisses leave Sanada a mess of hormones and gasps when he kisses the base of Sanada's spine and licks a path over Sanada's butt cheek. Their fingers curl together. Sanada's back arches. They explore each other. Yukimura grabs Sanada's shoulders and pulls him on top. Time ticks by the sound of rain pattering on the window. Yukimura kisses him. Sanada kisses him back. He touches Yukimura's hip and shudders again.
You'll be my first and only, Sanada thinks. He doesn't do it right. Yukimura smacks him on the head. Yukimura kicks him in the ear. Yukimura yelps. Sanada comes in the cleft of Yukimura's bum before he pushes his dick inside. His skin is so tight and hot even with the lube smeared all over. He pants hard and spills himself. He falls down onto Yukimura's tense body. Yukimura whacks his ear again.
"You have to make me come when you're inside me," he whispers. His hands touch Sanada's dick. They curl around his softening cock and tug again. "Sanada…" he moans. His hair is damp with sweat and his neck is long. Sanada kisses his jaw. He apologizes with his hands. He apologizes with a new erection when Yukimura rubs hard enough, long enough.
The second time, he pushes inside Yukimura's slick, trembling body. It is better than anything Sanada has ever done before. Yukimura comes after Sanada (after Sanada wraps his hand around Yukimura's dick and squeezes, pulls, pumps the pleasure into Yukimura's shaking body). Under their bodies, the crumbs crunch on the floor. Sanada's heart skips a beat when Yukimura moans his name and slides his hands over the back of Sanada's neck. There is come in his hair-Sanada doesn't know how it got there, but it doesn't matter. Yukimura's heart beats too against Sanada's chest. Their bodies curl together, kittenwise, limbs tangled up as the night sets in.
Yukimura is alive and smiling at him.
"We have mushroom shumai in the fridge," Yukimura says.
Sanada smiles back.
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 18 965
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all, except the references to Tian and Flying High.
Summary: First love, Sanada and Yukimura-style.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to koneko_meow for the betaing. Written for Sanada's birthday, 2008. Happy Birthday Sanada Genichirou! &hearts
This fic has been truncated into two parts due to length:
[Part 1] [Part 2]
10.
In second year, there is an optional trip abroad.
Yukimura says, "I'm gonna go. Are you?" They are in Sanada's bedroom. It's nearly supper and Yukimura will have to leave soon. Sanada hasn't shown his parents the permission forms yet. He doesn't really want to go to China.
Yukimura kisses his neck. It feels good, but a little slimy. Sanada bites his lip. He moans. "I don't know…ughnn…" Yukimura licks his jaw and says Sanada should come too.
"It would be fun, don't you think?"
Sanada's parents fill out the forms. He hands in the cheque to his homeroom teacher. Renji smiles and hands his cheque in, right after Sanada. "Beijing will be good," he says.
Sanada nods. He thinks about kissing Yukimura in a hotel suite overlooking a smoggy, Chinese cityscape. He thinks about sharing dumplings and dim sum with Yukimura in a grungy Chinese restaurant with red lanterns and squawking old ladies. He looks at his feet. Renji raises an eyebrow and Sanada flushes hotter.
Two days later, at tennis practice, Yukimura says, "My parents said no."
Sanada's shoulders drop. Yukimura sighs. "Sorry, I thought I would've been able to go. Send me a postcard, ne?" He tosses Sanada a ball. It hits the net post when Sanada misses the catch. Yukimura's laughter is light. Mostly, Sanada's arms feel cold from the crisp autumn breeze.
Yukimura kisses him in the clubhouse after practice has finished. He pushes Sanada against a locker. His face is pink and his belly is warm when Sanada touches Yukimura's stomach under the hem of his shirt. Yukimura's tongue is wet and fat in his mouth. Sanada tries to kiss back, but Yukimura is the one to lead today. He opens his mouth and his tongue is slack. Yukimura doesn't notice.
On the day of the flight to Beijing, Sanada's cell buzzes in Narita. hav fun w/out meee! dont get fat on Chinese fud!! &hearts
Sanada clears his throat. He looks around the departure lounge. There are classmates and other second years in various states of consciousness and airport-induced listlessness. Renji stands by the large, glass windows and watches the runway. Sanada sips his Starbucks and starts to type a reply.
"'You're always my dumpling'?" Niou says.
Sanada's stomach sinks. His blood freezes. He turns around. Niou leans over the back of his seat. Niou waves his fingers. "Howdy."
Sanada groans.
"Guess what?" Niou asks. "Besides the fact your message to Yukimura is gayer than gay."
"Shut up!" Sanada hisses. He narrows his eyes. Niou's smirk widens.
"We're sitting by each other on the flight!" Niou snickers. Sanada rubs his temple. It's only ten days. He'll be okay.
Niou steals Sanada's complimentary crackers on the plane. He wiggles constantly. He gets in and out of the seat to pace the aisles. He plays with the arm rest. He spills his complimentary oolong tea on Sanada's lap. Sanada says nothing. He closes his eyes. He places his cap over his eyes and tells himself they'll land soon enough.
Besides, Yagyuu is rooming with Niou. Sanada is safe with Renji.
Five days in Beijing with forty other thirteen-and-fourteen year olds is more than enough for Sanada. They shuffle around Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City like ducks in a line. They visit the Great Wall and take photographs. Sanada scowls when Yagyuu says cheese. Renji flashes a v.
Sanada has food poisoning half the time and the other half, he's constipated. The dumplings make his stomach churn. The spring rolls and noodles give him gas. He spends more time in the hotel in the bathroom than down in the lobby having fun. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut as he clutches the sides of the toilet. Nothing works-not ginger, not reading Yukimura's text messages, not the anti-diarrhoeal medicine his mom packed for him.
He hates sharing a room with Renji. Sanada lies in bed at night. The mattress is hard and the pillow is lumpy. The city lights are too bright, even though the closed curtains. Beijing smells like garbage and dog piss and too many people. Renji constantly masturbates. The slick sounds and breathy grunts he makes keep Sanada awake. He closes his eyes and tries to centre himself. It only makes his intestines gurgle more, and then he's rushing to the bathroom again.
Sanada takes notes during the class excursions. There will be a test when they get back to school. "It's not a trip for fun," the teachers say.
"Yeah right," Niou mutters.
Sanada glares at him. Niou grins, then he says something to Yagyuu. Later, Yagyuu walks up to Sanada in the museum. "You look tired, Sanada-kun. Are you sleeping well?"
Sanada's neck has a crick. His eyes are crusted over with sleep deprivation. The pork buns from lunch make his stomach rumble, and his eyes keep flicking up to the signs locating the toilets. "I'm fine," Sanada grumbles.
"Aa," Yagyuu says. He ducks his head. "Sorry."
The final five days are spent in Xiamen. They take a flight from Beijing south and the world is lusher, greener and brighter. The air in the airport is sticky and warm. Sanada regrets wearing his heavy coat on the air plane now. He was the unlucky student who sat beside the teachers on the flight. As far as he's concerned, it was a godsend.
His postcard to Yukimura is finished. All it needs is a stamp to be mailed.
At the hotel in Xiamen, Sanada shares a room with Yagyuu. Yagyuu snores, but he doesn’t masturbate all the time. Sanada sleeps with a pair of complimentary earplugs that were left on his pillow by a maid. He cups his dick and rolls onto his side. He dreams of Yukimura speaking Chinese to him. Sanada doesn't understand, but he wakes up with sticky thighs. His stomach is settled.
There are palm trees and tea shops everywhere. They visit Nanputuo Temple and eat noodles at a shop in a busy district. There are Chinese people everywhere, like Yokohama's Chinatown times one hundred. On the ferry to Gulangyu Island, Niou pukes over the edge of the boat. A guilty sense of satisfaction creeps through Sanada's chest. He bites his lip to stop smiling. Yagyuu pats Niou's back and holds his rat tail back. Sanada texts Yukimura a message with his cellphone. How r u back home? China is v warm. We went swimming last night!!
He presses send and the reception dies. Sanada frowns.
There are no cars on the island, but there are lots of pianos. Strains of classical music fill the air. A pang of homesickness hits Sanada in the gut-he misses the shamisen music and the silence of the dojo. He misses Yukimura's smile-the wallpaper on his cellphone isn't the same. The green parks don't seem right. It should be the time for scarlet maples and fluttering leaves scattered in the woods, not seagulls and fresh vegetables in the night markets.
Sanada sighs.
On the last night, they visit a park where a traditional dance troupe performs. It's staged and touristy-the audience is filled with gaijin and a few other Japanese. Sanada's bum falls asleep halfway through the performance. He squirms.
Later, after dinner at a nice restaurant that serves milk tea and never-ending fried rice bowls, Niou convinces a man to buy him alcohol. He gets drunk in the night market. Yagyuu takes him back to the hotel. Sanada and Renji walk around with a few other classmates. The Chinese stare at them. Some glare. Most try to sell things. They walk past a booth of tacky Chinese prints of traditional paintings.
"Yukimura likes art, doesn't he?" Renji asks.
Sanada nods. He buys the nicest print: misty mountains and a heron. There are bamboo stalks in broad, bold strokes of paint. Sanada thinks it looks nice.
At the airport, Sanada sends Yukimura a text message. I have something nice 4 u. See u monday!! &hearts
Niou is too hung over to make fun of him this time. Sanada smiles to himself. He sits next to Renji on the flight and takes photographs of China from the air. Roads criss-cross the land until they disappear into the field of blue ocean.
When the flight lands at Narita, the first thing Sanada (and half his classmates) does is flip his cellphone on.
I have something 4 u 2
On Monday, the first thing Yukimura says to Sanada is "Do you want to be my vice-captain?"
The cheap painting in Sanada's tennis bag is so completely insignificant in comparison.
11.
"Being captain is good," Yukimura says.
Sanada sets down the black dry erase marker. He looks at Yukimura. The clubhouse is empty. It is also drafty, which is why Sanada hasn't stripped down and showered yet. He needs to work up the will to rush into the steaming showers in the buff before the cold bites his heels.
Yukimura dangles his set of keys. His keychain has a chibi microbe hanging from it. It's not very manly, but Sanada thinks it is cute.
"'Cause if I tell everyone practice is over, we have the showers all to ourselves."
The marker rolls off the ledge by the whiteboard. Sanada doesn't pick it up.
They've showered together before. They've kissed before-a lot more lately, but they've never done both at once. Yukimura doesn't seem to want to wash his hair. Instead, he keeps kissing Sanada. Sanada pushes him against the wall. The tiles are slippery like Yukimura's tongue. The wall is hard, like Yukimura's dick. Sanada gasps. Yukimura digs his hands into Sanada's shoulder. Sanada clenches his jaw. Yukimura's hand is tight on his dick. He touches Sanada's balls. He lifts his leg and rubs himself on Sanada's thigh. Sanada shakes and comes.
Yukimura grunts. He comes on Sanada's belly. His eyes roll back and his knees wobble when the water starts to run lukewarm. "Sorry," Yukimura says. "My leg fell asleep."
"It's okay," Sanada says. Yukimura's cheeks are still flushed.
On the bus, after, they sit in silence. Sanada hands Yukimura an earbud. They listen to the latest Perfume album on his iPod. Under their bags, Yukimura touches Sanada's knees. The squeeze of his hand is comfortable. He looks at Sanada and his eyes are warm.
Sanada bumps Yukimura's knee with his.
It's a week later, maybe. The team is going out for hotel buffet. There are plans to visit Renji's uncle's pension in Fukushima the last weekend of January. It's Yukimura's handpicked team-Akaya, Marui, Jackal, Niou, and-Sanada's lone pick, to keep Niou in line-Yagyuu.
"There's a place in Urawa we go for 2000 yen all you can eat cake!" Marui says.
"I'm not wasting my money going all the way to fucking Urawa, lardbucket," Niou says.
"Why not ramen?" Jackal asks.
Akaya skips down the steps to the platform. Sanada walks beside Renji, who keeps an eye on all of them. Yukimura is already in line and waiting for them. He turns to wave. Sanada glances back down at the steps. He's used to tripping in his old sneakers. The new Asics ones his mom bought are heaven for his toes.
Sanada looks up. Yukimura stands on platform four one moment. The next, he's on the ground. He falls like a statue and he doesn't move. Someone runs. The train rushes into the station. Sanada freezes on the steps. He flies forward and screams Yukimura's name. It's chaos as commuters swarm them and swarm the train. Someone yells, "Ambulance!" A train attendant in blue runs at them. Streams of people come off the train and the doors close with cheery music that hangs in the air.
It happens in an instant. It happens in an eon. Sanada feels like he is standing there as time whips by. He can't breathe. He gasps for air when a stretcher lifts Yukimura up. Sanada grabs the side. An EMS attendant pushes him away. Sanada's heart shatters.
At the hospital, he doesn't know when, he doesn't know where or the time, or how he got there, he just is. Sanada sits in the sterile hallway. It smells of chemicals. Nurses ask if he's okay. Doctors come in and out of the room Yukimura is in. Sanada can't hear what they say-his ears rush with blood and the echoed sound of Yukimura's body hitting the platform with a thump.
His eyes prick. Sanada tries to cry, but no tears come. His chest collapses and his back shudders.
Akaya grabs a nurse by the arm. "He's our tennis captain! YOU GOTTA FIX HIM NOW!" he shouts. Jackal cries and Marui says nothing. He hands Jackal a tissue. Niou and Yagyuu disappear and come back smelling of cigarettes ten minutes later. Renji stands near Sanada. He says nothing, but sometimes he pats Akaya's back.
Sanada's arms go numb from his posture. His legs lose feeling too.
Yesterday, Yukimura was talking about taking the Nationals for a third straight win. Yesterday, Yukimura was kissing Sanada in the locker room and Sanada's hand was on his bum. Today, Yukimura is in the hospital and paralyzed. No one knows why.
The others leave when Yukimura's family comes. His mother is in tears. His sister looks confused. His father thanks the team for being there. Sanada doesn't move. He hugs his knees and stares at the white wall. Progressive shadows move across the corridor. His stomach rumbles. He gets up to find a bathroom and piss. The bathroom mirror shows red eyes and white lips. Sanada punches the cement wall. He feels nothing but a dull throb.
The hospital operates like a body, continually working and moving. Nurses change. Doctors come and go. Yukimura's family retreats into the lobby for mochi and coffee. Sanada sits by the door. He won't leave. He can't leave.
The door to the room is open a crack. A woman's voice-the nurse-says, "It's a severe and incurable disease, isn't it?"
Something wet slithers down Sanada's face. The metallic tang of blood floods his mouth.
The nurse adds, "Tennis will probably be impossible for him."
The world could end in a fiery cataclysm and Sanada won't notice. He stares at the corridor wall until his eyes go dry. A nurse taps him on the shoulder. All he can hear are the beeps and hisses from machines in Yukimura's room.
His cell buzzes in his pocket. Sanada looks at the time. The numbers are blurry. It's 5:21am. He stands up and looks at the closed door that Yukimura lies behind. He presses his palm to the cool metal and peers into the small window at eye level. Sanada can see nothing but a drawn curtain. Vaguely, he is aware that he is breathing. Vaguely, he is aware that he is moving.
Sanada goes to the school. He's there before the first light breaks over the eastern courts. The winter air cuts through his uniform. The cold wind whips his hair and gnaws at his bare ears, and his bare hands. He is alone and the dawn is dim.
None of the regulars are late. None of the regulars have dry eyes when Sanada walks up to them and says, "We will win the nationals for Yukimura."
12.
The pain evolves from a sharp, disabling stab, to a constant dull throb.
Sanada takes over the tennis practices-he has to. Renji isn’t authoritative enough. Yagyuu is too polite. Niou is too annoying. Marui and Jackal are too chummy with the pre-regulars and Akaya…
Sanada shudders.
There is no one to back him up. There is no pillar of support. There is only Sanada and the hundred laps he doles out. He runs them, too. Renji tells him what their training menu should be: laps, stretches, drills, swings and practice matches. Before, Yukimura handled this. There is no room for error without him. Sanada will not risk reneging on their promise.
He grows used to the complaining. He grows used to the muffled hisses and glares of the team members as they start their laps, no more questions asked. Akaya spoke back to him last week, after skipping the morning practice. "I…uh…accidentally went to Tokyo," he said. "But it's not a big deal. I almost played Tezuka-"
The anger bubbled up inside. Sanada smacked the smirk off the kid's face. The frustration built up inside manifested in his hand. It should have been a relief. It should have felt good. Instead, Sanada's hand throbbed. Akaya had a bruise for three days after.
Each day without Yukimura feels like an eternity. Sanada practices with Renji, or sometimes with the brat or Yagyuu. Gone are their friendly rallies and the long looks over the net. Now, Sanada yells at Yagyuu. "Your footwork is awful! You call that tennis?"
Yagyuu fumbles with his return. His lips move. He's swearing under his breath-Niou's taught him too many bad habits.
There is no one to sit with on the rooftop at lunch. The garden up there that Yukimura helped tend has grown neglected this season. Weeds and grass overrun the azalea beds. The flowers are choked off. Sanada starts to sit in his classroom. It is loud and there are too many girls giggling. He scowls and chews on his mochi. He works on his homework. He makes a new list of practice games. Sometimes, he monitors the hallways to get away from the perfume and hair clips and makeup and short skirts.
"Stop that!" he yells at two students. They were kissing in the stairwell. The boy, who has bad teeth and dyed hair, rolls his eyes. He gives Sanada the finger when Sanada walks away. His chest tightens, but he is used to the feeling now.
When he goes to the clubhouse in the afternoon, the sun is hot and streaming through the small windows. Yukimura always arrived early with him. Now, the clubhouse is dusty and smells of mildew. Jackal and Niou didn't clean it properly. The chore chart on the bulletin board has been ripped off again. Sanada cannot find it in the rubbish bin.
Winning is everything. "Winning is the only thing that matters," Sanada tells the team. They nod. Even Niou looks up from under his bangs.
"The only thing?" Niou asks. His teeth flash. He's dangerous. He twirls his racket around his hand, but his eyes are focused on Sanada.
Sanada stares back. A cicada hums, then several more. They grow louder every day as the summer rolls into Kanagawa, a swelter of damp air and smog and dripping green. "Do whatever it takes," he says. For Yukimura.
There is no guilt or remorse seeing the rival teams crumple one by one. Watching Akaya slam balls into players does not fill the hollow in Sanada's stomach. Having Renji and Jackal purposely hold back their skills, then attack with sharp moves does not warm the cold in Sanada's chest. Gathering win after win as they cut down their opponents in each of the tournaments does not fix Yukimura.
The memory of Yukimura's collapse is too raw. Last week, he was hooked up to ventilators. This week, he walks on the hospital rooftop with them. His skin is translucent. His eyes are sunken. His body is frail and skeletal. Sanada touches his hand and Yukimura's bony fingers cannot hold his back.
Sanada blinks at the sting in his eyes. He takes his hand away. No one notices.
"We will bring you the regionals trophy next month," he says.
Yukimura's smile is wan and forced. He starts to wheeze. Jackal and Marui grab him, but he doesn't collapse on the bench. A train rushes by in the distance. The sky is tinged with yellow pollution.
Yukimura opens his mouth. His sinking shoulders twist the knife in Sanada's belly. You don't need to speak, he thinks.
Akaya stands up and slams his hand on the chain link fence. "But without buchou, we'll have a blind spot-"
"Don’t let this overwhelm you…" Yukimura starts. He clutches his chest. Sanada's heart seizes.
"Yukimura!"
Yukimura's hand is too weak to push him away.
"Take care of your body," Sanada says, "and we'll take care of the rest."
Sanada cannot cure him. Renji looks up all the information on Guillain Barré that he can, but it is never enough. At night, Sanada lays on his futon. The laundry flutters outside the windows. He wonders if the sight of the gilded regionals trophy would make Yukimura smile again. He masturbates, but he doesn't come. He called Yukimura earlier, but a nurse answered. Yukimura is always tired. Sanada's body feels tired, too, and coiled up tight like a spring. But it never decompresses. Hitting Akaya does nothing. Smacking Marui for slacking on laps does nothing. Winning against Hanomiya in the district preliminaries was laughable.
Sanada takes his hand out of his yukata. He wipes it on his sheets and sighs. His throat is tight when he thinks of Yukimura. His mind is scarred with the sound of Yukimura's body hitting the train platform. Wet tears form in his eyes, but he wipes them away before he starts to cry.
The team goes out for ramen. Akaya and Marui and Niou skip ahead. "We should do nagashi somen sometime," Marui says. "We could use the tools in the tech classroom and make a board…"
"Tarundoru," Sanada mutters. Renji walks beside him. His cell beeps, but he does not answer. Sanada looks at him.
Renji raises an eyebrow. "Seishun Gakuen took the Tokyo district preliminaries," he says. "And they've swept the prefecturals too."
"Is that Tezuka's team?" Sanada asks.
Renji smiles. His lips are cold and thin. His eyes are small and black. "Yes."
Sanada grunts. "If we play them, he's mine."
"Of course."
In the dojo, Tezuka is the straw dummy. The steel blade catches the soft light from the bulb overhead, and the pearly glow from the moon outside. Sanada's feet don't make a sound, but the hakama swishes. He poses. The dummy looks at him. Sanada breathes in and his nostrils flare.
The blade is fast like lightning, and just as swift. The dummy recoils, still and stiff and then, as Sanada exhales, the top falls off. It hits the ground from a clean slice straight to the gut. Dust swirls up. Sanada steps back.
"Come at me, Tezuka," he murmurs.
Tezuka doesn't respond.
13.
Sanada writes Yukimura letters.
They are stupid, asinine things. He knows this. He doesn't appreciate Niou hovering at lunch when Sanada spreads a sheet of stationary on top of his textbook.
"Moyashimon?" Niou asks.
Sanada snatches it back. He glares. "My mother bought it for me," he says. Niou snickers more.
He writes about Renji catching crickets and keeping them in jars for Akaya to take home. He writes about the nagashi somen ramp they're going to build, as soon as Niou brings his screwdriver. He writes about going to the amusement park with Jackal-Sanada didn't want to go, but Marui was busy and Jackal had no one else. The haunted house was scary. Too much fake blood and the sweaty stink of people inside. There was a ghost, pale and gaunt and made of paper maché that dropped onto their head and groaned. Sanada couldn't stop thinking about Yukimura then. He hated it.
He writes about going to Denny's with Yagyuu to try the mango parfaits and he writes about the weight Marui puts on (so Sanada makes him wear ankle weights, too). The letters are light and stupid. There is nothing serious, except for the way Sanada signs them, always.
We hope you get better soon! Please do your best!
He can never sign them 'love', or 'I need you'. He feels guilty thinking about it. He drills his body harder. Sanada tells Yagyuu and Renji "I'll sweep the courts". The sun is setting golden over the confession tree. Heat ripples on the courts. The hundred laps have worn the clay baselines and smeared them. Nobody questions him. Nobody stays late.
Sanada rolls out the ball machine. He stocks it, then sets the self mode. He slams ball after ball across the net. He grinds his teeth and imagines his opponents: Tezuka, Atobe, Chitose from Shishigaku and even that freshman from Seigaku he has heard rumours of. Sanada breathes hard. He sweats hard. He smashes and punts until the rubber soles of his runners burn and his racket drops from his hand. His fingers are numb. His forearm seizes up. There are bruises on his legs from the missed balls-only two today.
It won't happen again.
Under the cover of descending evening, when the swarms of insects cling to his skin and his cap, Sanada brushes the broom over the courts. It is mindless and mechanical. His mind can slow and think as he turns a corner, pushing the leaves and dust up. Yukimura does not respond to his letters. Sanada does not want him to. He needs to think about his health.
On Wednesdays, Sanada goes to the hospital. For months he has come. The nurses know his face. They smile at him with polite nods. Sanada touches his cap to pull it over his face. He doesn't know what to say to the nurses ever. Small talk is wasteful.
Yukimura's door is open. Sanada hesitates to knock. Young voices are inside, then the sound of Yukimura's laughter. It is faint and laboured. Sanada swallows. His chest hurts. There is a silence, a whisper, then two children come out. They wave to Yukimura from the doorway and run past Sanada. Their feet patter down the hallway. One boy has no hair. The other has bruises on his face and a cast on his arm. Sanada says nothing.
Yukimura sits up in bed. His hair is matted at the back. There is a drip hooked up to his hand that he starts to itch. He tries to smile at Sanada. It never reaches his eyes. Sanada takes off his cap and closes the door. He stands by the window across the tiny room.
"Sanada," Yukimura says.
Sanada looks at the stack of cards and letters on the small table. There is a bamboo plant in a ceramic pot, and two vases of flowers. They wilt. Yukimura's voice is thin and frail. Sanada bites his lip, but his eyes keep stinging.
"Thank you for the letters," Yukimura says.
"It's nothing," Sanada says. He looks out the window. All he can see are concrete buildings and traffic. Yukimura's room smells of alcoholic antiseptic and urine. Sanada's throat feels tight.
"Will you take me to Denny's one day?" he asks. "We can have a date there."
Sanada turns. Yukimura's eyes twist his chest: they are dark and hollow and they reflect the artificial lighting.
Yukimura winces. "Sanada," he whispers.
Sanada doesn't know what to do. Yukimura touches the IV on his hand. It is taped to his skin. He picks at the edges, but presses them back down.
"I'm scared," he murmurs.
Sanada sits beside him. He touches the hard bed with one palm, with his other, he touches Yukimura's hand. It is cold and thin. Yukimura looks too young, but his eyes are old. Sanada swallows hard and the lump doesn't leave his chest. They start to kiss. He doesn't know who starts it. Yukimura needs him to be strong. Yukimura needs him.
Yukimura's lips are dry and cracked. His kisses are weak. He barely kisses back. Mostly, he sits on his bed and lets Sanada run his hand through his hair. Yukimura sighs into Sanada's mouth. His body is bony when Sanada touches his arm and his chest. Yukimura hisses. He closes his eyes and moans. Sanada pulls back.
They sit in silence after. Yukimura scratches his hand. Sanada tastes the medicine on his lips. It makes his mouth tingle. It tastes chalky and dead. Then, he leaves.
There is a Denny's down the street from the hospital. Sanada orders a bowl of tomato and ham ramen. He eats alone in a booth made for two.
Three days later when the team visits, Yukimura tells them that he will go ahead with the surgery.
14.
There is no excuse for losing.
Sanada stands at the baseline. His body hums with effort and excursion. Sweat plasters his uniform to his skin. The crowds cheer, the stands are alive and vibrant, people laughing and screaming and crying from the victory just announced.
But it isn't his victory.
It isn't Rikkai's win.
He refuses the second place trophy. If he doesn't accept it, it never happened. Sanada can hear Niou and Yagyuu making fun of him behind his back. He can see Marui stuffing something under his t-shirt. He can hear Renji's apologies and Akaya's sniffling. Mostly, he hears the sound of crows cawing. There is a hot breeze from the direction of the ocean. The squawking of seagulls is carried on that, too.
The sun is unforgiving. Sanada doesn't sweat. He packs his racket away. He zips his bag up. His hands are white and cold-he can't feel them anymore. The support team and the cheerleaders have left. There is no one but here him, and Renji's droning.
Shut up! Sanada thinks.
"It's my fault, Genichirou. It's my fault-what do we tell Seiichi?"
Sanada breathes through his nose. He straps his bag over his shoulder. It is heavy and his shoulder aches. His eyes are dry and he cannot stop blinking. Sanada pulls at the brim of his cap. Yukimura is out of surgery now. There are probably tubes hooked up to his hand and mouth and between his legs. He is probably naked and alone with nurses monitoring his every movement. He has no privacy, the same way that Sanada has none here. Renji doesn't leave.
"I don't know," Sanada says. He walks away. The food stands have packed up and left. Empty shaved ice cups blow around by a rubbish bin. It swarms with insects and smells of rotten food. Sanada rubs his eyes. They hurt, too.
"It's my fault, Genichirou. It's my fault…"
Sanada turns around. He glares at Renji. Shut up! Renji looks up at him and stumbles forward on his large feet. For a moment, there is a thick wave of tension between them. It might be the heat. The cicadas hum. Renji's eye twitches and the moment is broken.
At the train station, they part. Renji catches the local line in the direction of home. Sanada catches the line in the direction of Kannai General. Three stops later, he gets off and turns around.
It would be family-only for Yukimura right now. Sanada waits at the platform for the next train. He leans on a vending machine and gags. Defeat burns his throat. It tastes of failure, chalky and dirty. He feels ill all the way home. He stomps up to his bedroom and slides his door closed. The futon base is folded up in the corner. The cover is draped over one of the balconies on the main floor.
Sanada curls into a ball and squeezes his eyes shut. His uniform is sweaty and it smells. His cellphone rings, but he does not answer. His mom knocks at the door and asks if he is okay. Sanada can smell miso soup wafting in under his door.
He says nothing. He lays his cheek on the cool floor and bites back a sniffle. He's failed in keeping his promise to Yukimura and he doesn't know how to fix it. Yukimura has never failed. Yukimura has never lost.
Tomorrow, they will meet at the hospital. Tomorrow, it will be his duty to tell Yukimura. Tomorrow, it will be him who has to face the punishment.
He doesn't sleep. At half-past three, Sanada slides his door open. The hallway is dark. There is a tray of cold food by his doorframe. He tiptoes past. A window is open somewhere. Cool night air blows through the house. Sanada's eyes are crusty. His armpits are damp and smelly when he changes into the hakama.
The sword is heavy in his hands. His racket felt that way after the game. The straw dummy is Echizen's height. It smirks at him. "Mada mada dane." Sanada picks the sword up and he breathes. Each inhale is faster and sharper as the rage builds. He clenches his teeth and jaw. He shakes. The sword is alive in his hands as he hacks at the dummy. Straw flies up in a flurry. Sanada keeps chopping at the dummy until there is nothing left.
He falls to his knees and groans. The sword hits the tatami with a dull clink.
Sanada arrives at the hospital an hour early. He has not showered since yesterday morning. The train was full of commuters. The walk from the station was hotter still. The sunlight reflects off the cement facades and multiplies in intensity. Sanada thinks of nothing, and everything. He thinks of Yukimura's agony written over his face when he fell that day. He thinks of Yukimura's weak voice whispering "I'm scared". He thinks of Yukimura on a cold, metal table being sliced up-he would not have bled, because there was nothing left of him.
Outside the hospital, Sanada pauses. He clenches his fist. He stares at the automatic doors. They open and close, open and close. There is a rhythm to their motions. He swallows a hard lump and enters. He is the first one to come. Sanada sits in a hard plastic seat and waits. When the others arrive, he says nothing. Yagyuu asks if they can visit Yukimura Seiichi-kun on the seventh floor, children's ward.
Sanada closes his eyes. Yukimura is too young. His heart catches in his ribs and pushes out. Sanada tries to breathe, but the elevator stifles. Akaya's hair is in his face. Niou's slouch pokes him in the leg. Marui's gum smells too sweet and fake.
The others wait in the hallway. Sanada pushes the door open. His heart is in his throat and on his sleeve. He purses his lips so tight that he cannot feel them. Yukimura sits up in bed when the door closes. The sheets rustle. His face is a mask. The machine to his right beeps faster.
Sanada's pulse quickens. He opens his mouth. The words are mechanical. He has practiced them in his mind all morning. "Yukimura, I'm sorry." Sanada does not recognize his hollow voice. But he cannot cringe, either. His face will not move. His face will not turn from Yukimura's blank stare.
"During the Kanto Regionals, Seigaku-"
"Don't talk to me! DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT TENNIS!" Yukimura screams. Sanada sucks a breath in. His eyes are wide. Yukimura keeps yelling. "Get OUT! GET OUT!" His face contorts. His eyes flash with that same ill light they've had for months. Now, it is replaced with pure anger. His voice echoes in Sanada's ears.
Sanada can only do what Yukimura says. The door clicks to a close. The team looks at him. Sanada stares beyond them at the wall. His throat is closed up. Someone asks him how Yukimura is. Sanada's knuckles crack. His breathing shudders. But he says nothing, he does nothing.
They leave.
Sanada sits by the door. His heart sits on the floor bleeding next to him. There are beeps from Yukimura's room. Sanada thinks he can hear the sound of crying. He hopes it isn't his own. His body is so numb that he cannot tell.
When Yukimura's family comes with coffee cups and flowers, he doesn't leave.
When his phone rings and the corridor grows dark after sunset, he doesn't leave.
Sanada takes a piss when the night shift nurses take over. He goes to classes when morning arrives. He eats lunch by himself at a cafeteria table in the corner. He goes to afternoon classes, and then he goes back to the hospital.
Until Yukimura forgives him, he will not give up.
***
On the third night, the door slides open. Sanada's chin had been resting on his knees. His thighs were asleep. His cap is on the floor beside his backpack.
A slipper toes his arm. Sanada blinks.
"You smell," Yukimura says. When he crouches down beside Sanada and touches his cheek, Sanada starts to cry.
"You're my strength, Sanada" Yukimura says.
15.
Summer evenings take on a certain chill in the hills where Sanada lives. He's still wearing his trackpants but he changed into a clean t-shirt at home. Sweat has dried on his skin and makes the back of his hair a little matted. The sunscreen he slathered on this morning has become dusty and dirty from today's games.
He sets down the tray of tea on the floor of his bedroom. Normally, Sanada doesn't eat or drink here: it could spill. The room is cool from the open window. Yukimura sits by his folded futon. His family hasn't bothered them tonight, not even Sanada's brother. It is quiet, except for the chirp of crickets outside and the soft chime of the furins.
"Nagoya Seitoku was kinda funny," Yukimura says. He smiles and his face is still thin, but better than he was at his worst. Sanada has seen him live through hell and endure it. Now Yukimura's features are sharper and his limbs longer, leaner. Now, Yukimura doesn't laugh as much and when he does, it lacks the childish warmth and naiveté he once had. Sanada had it too.
"They were fools," Sanada says. The gaijin he played trembled when the rouse was called. He shook when Sanada stepped onto the court. For a Nationals level game, it was a joke. 6-0 and Sanada didn't break a sweat. He only sweated because he sat under the hot Tokyo sun waiting for Renji and Niou to play.
The finals are scheduled for tomorrow, but the trees rustle and the wind stirs. There is a chemical scent in the air and the salty smell of ocean, too. A storm is coming tonight. The games will be pushed back another week.
Seigaku will not win this time.
Earlier, as they were walking to the train station after the games, Seigaku walked past them. Sanada raised his eyebrows. Renji glared at the Seigaku's Inui and Akaya laughed. Yagyuu and Jackal wore twin expressions of vague amusement when Marui stopped to point them out.
"Oi! Seigaku!" he called.
Sanada did not want to see that Echizen brat. He did not want to relive the past. But the sight of Tezuka's tall, thin frame and the glint from his glasses made Sanada turn. Yukimura was beside him.
Niou was the one to leer at Fuji Shuusuke. "Puri," he said. Sanada has never understood what that nonsense word meant. But he did understand the flash of challenge in Niou's eyes and the thin smile Fuji returned.
Oishi stepped forward, not Tezuka. He looked at Sanada with focused eyes and his chin held high: vice-captain to vice-captain once more. "We're going for yakiniku with some of the other teams from Kanto," he said. Then, Oishi chewed his lip when Sanada stared back from under his cap. Yukimura said nothing. Sanada could hear him laugh under his breath when Oishi asked, "Do you want to come, too?"
Akaya and Marui turned their radar ears. "Eh?" Niou added.
Sanada's stomach churned. He ate a packed bento his mom made for lunch, and some of the watermelon he jellies brought. Yukimura looked at Oishi. Then he looked at Tezuka. Yukimura laughed, but the dusky light of a golden summer sunset never reached his eyes.
"We have work to do," he said.
Oishi forced a laugh. "Maybe another time," he offered.
"Maybe," Yukimura agreed. No is what his smile said.
Instead, they went home to Kanagawa. "Training tonight again?" Marui moaned.
"I wanted to eat yakiniku," Akaya whined. "I wanted to be number-"
"Two," Niou said. His hand was clamped over Akaya's mouth (until the brat bit him). "Because I'd whoop your ass at any yakiniku battle."
They started to argue. Sanada closed his eyes. The salarymen on the train could hear every word and it made him flush with anger and embarrassment that the team was acting like children. But if Yukimura thought it was funny and laughed behind his hand, Sanada would say nothing.
Instead, he and Yukimura went to his home for supper. Instead, they ate cold leftover curry and soba noodles in wasabi and shoyu. Instead of practicing more, he and Yukimura went upstairs to his bedroom and closed the door when Sanada set the tray of tea down.
Instead, Yukimura leans back on Sanada's futon. His eyes are half-closed and heavy. His lip is curled and his mouth parted. He breathes into the fragrant night air. The world is alive before a storm. The gathering gusts make it harder and harder to hear noises from the other parts of the house.
His bedroom walls constrict around them, crunching the space between him and Yukimura. Sanada's chest tightens, too, and his dick is swollen. His skin might be cold, but his insides are hot and melting when Yukimura licks his lips.
"Sanada," he says.
Sanada shifts his weight to his other foot. The floorboards creak under the tatami. It is the only sound apart from the rushing wind outside and the thumping pulse of his blood in his ears.
Yukimura touches his collarbone. His fingers drag along his neck and settle under the collar of his t-shirt. He's sweaty and dusty too. His hair is messed from lying back on the futon. His headband has crawled up his forehead. He moans when Sanada pushes him down and kisses him. Sanada kisses hard, deep. He can taste the remnants of supper on Yukimura's tongue when he sucks it. He can feel Yukimura's erection on his thigh. It makes his dick swell harder. Sanada takes Yukimura's hands from his shoulders and he presses them into the futon. Yukimura wriggles.
"Stay still!" Sanada hisses.
Yukimura arches into him. His eyes dance and they are dark. He gasps when Sanada touches his stomach. He groans when Sanada reaches under his waistband where the skin burns. Yukimura shivers when Sanada curls his hand around his dick.
They have never done this before.
Sanada kisses Yukimura's neck. He licks the dried sweat. He tastes the grime of the courts. Sanada inhales Yukimura's rank smell in his armpits and the deodorant, too. Yukimura shudders and his legs widen. His stomach shakes. Sanada squeezes his dick harder. He pulls and tugs and rubs until he can feel something hot and wet and new between his fingers. Yukimura throws an arm over his eyes. He thrusts into Sanada's hand and then-
Yukimura slides back to the floor. He's boneless. Sanada's body is drawn so tight that when Yukimura takes his hand and sucks his thumb, then his index finger, Sanada rubs his dick on Yukimura's leg. He comes. His mouth is open and his teeth graze Yukimura's shoulder.
When his body stops shaking, Sanada apologizes.
"Why?" Yukimura asks. He slides his hands over Sanada's back. They are warm under his t-shirt. His fingers make lazy circles on Sanada's spine. The first raindrops patter on the roof and hit Sanada's window at a low angle.
"I…" Sanada hangs his head. "We shouldn't."
Yukimura digs his fingers in. Sanada looks up.
"I thought of my health for weeks," he says. "I want to think of something else now."
Sanada can't think of anything to say. He breathes. Yukimura's hair stirs.
"If we win-when we win," Yukimura whispers, "let's go all the way." Yukimura kisses him. Sanada's mouth stays open when Yukimura pulls back. The corners of his eyes have tiny wrinkles. "Genichirou."
16.
When he steps onto the court, Sanada thinks of nothing else but him.
Five years of history between them and not once has he been able to defeat Tezuka Kunimitsu.
This will be my revenge, Sanada thinks. Tezuka is weak. His arm is thin and he strains through his shots. Each point Sanada gains gives him more drive. He is flush with the impending victory. Tezuka clenches his teeth. He says nothing when Sanada shouts, "Is that it?" He says nothing when Sanada yells, "Nothing will stop my victory!" Sanada laughs. Tezuka's feet move-there's no Tezuka zone this time. He has to chase Sanada's balls across the court. They come faster and faster. Sanada uses a backhand, then two hands. He cuts the balls. He slices them. He whips them and waves them and wields his racket. Tezuka stumbles. He's wounded by the game. His eyes never leave Sanada. It's the same look he has had for five years.
It's the same look that Sanada has never been able to crush.
"I'm sick of seeing your face!" Sanada shouts.
He has saved his best moves for this match. Last night, he told Yukimura to put his name in singles three.
"I already did," Yukimura said.
Sanada strikes like lightning-the courts are on fire. He moves and he's at the baseline. The ball is at the net. He moves again and he is at the net. The ball is at Tezuka's baseline. It slams into his blindspot. The crowds cheer. Sanada grins. He throws his head back and laughs.
Tezuka keeps staring.
Sanada's laugh falters for a beat. He looks at Tezuka's fallen racket. The gut is broken. His lightning has struck through it.
"There are some balls that cannot be returned," Sanada says.
"There are some balls that do not need to be returned," Tezuka says.
Sanada curls his lip. You bastard, he thinks.
The lightning sparks inside. Sanada's body tingles, but he has not Self-Actualized. He strikes again, and again, and again. He moves silent and stealthy like a shadow and still Tezuka's eyes will not darken and give up. Tezuka stumbles. His arm drops. His team shouts and his arm is sweating and pulsing with congealed blood. Sanada shakes. He glares and purses his lips. Power courses through his arm into his racket. It is alive and flashing in the August sun that blinds the ball from view. Sanada's shadow moves. The air crackles with electricity.
Still, Tezuka doesn't give up. Sanada will accept the challenge.
And the ball starts to circle towards Tezuka. Dust plumes puff up in clouds around his feet. Sanada knows this. His heart skips a beat. His shoulders tighten. The ball veers up at an angle and crackles in the air.
Sanada rushes the net and his legs seize up. They won't move. Sanada's eyes fly open. Tezuka looks at him. His glasses have not slipped down his nose even though his face drips with sweat. Sweat sluices down Sanada's forehead, too. The ball comes at him, but he cannot run for it. His knees are bent and his sneakers are cemented in place. He screams.
Point, Tezuka.
It has been five years in the making and Sanada struggles now. The game turns tide to Tezuka. His phantom balls seal the lightning. They are light and feathery and curve around the net. Sanada runs but his legs give out again. He skins his knees. He seethes. He runs the other way and catches the ball on his racket rim. It lobs. Tezuka smashes. Sanada's chest collapses. NO!
They change courts. The game is tied. Tezuka speaks with his vice-captain, his best friend. Sanada speaks with no one. Freshmen minions on the team offer him water. A junior offers a towel. Sanada's eyes sting. His legs are limp and noodley. They collapse under him when he sinks onto the bench. He stares out at the court.
"Leave me alone!" he yells at the next bottle shoved in his face.
A nylon jacket rustles. Sanada stiffens. He looks up. He stands up. Yukimura looks at him with a brittle smile. His eyes are cold and hard. There is nothing but the game now. Neither of them will consider the consequences until the time.
Yukimura's face says it all. Sanada grinds his teeth. He balls his fist. He turns heel to stomp back onto the court, but his ankle catches. His voice is sharp when he says, "You're going to tell me to forget about a head-on challenge."
Yukimura's eyes settle on Sanada's racket. In the sweet spot, the strings dip in. They have been bent by the Phantom.
"Yes," he says. "Do whatever it takes to win our third championship."
It is Tezuka's serve. Sanada freezes at the baseline. He will not look at Yukimura. You are asking me to throw this away! he wants to scream. Yukimura sits on the bench. There is no expression on his face, but his arms are crossed. Sanada wants to hit him. His hand curls around his racket handle, then he loosens his grip when the serve sounds.
Sanada tries to strike, but his foot goes dead. He cups his racket and tips the angle. Instead, the shot is light and silent, like the forest. He groans and glares as Tezuka returns the lob with another Phantom. Nothing can escape the pull. It killed Sanada five years ago. History will repeat itself again.
No!
He could aim for Tezuka's elbow. He could aim for Tezuka's arm and no one would know any better. It could be over in four points if he gave into the temptation of Yukimura's words. How sweet it would be to have Tezuka on his knees in defeat and for his gaze to finally waver.
Sanada slices the ball. It rips across his racket. Tezuka's arm slips and his racket starts to fall. It's match point. He hurls the ball over the net. It is all Tezuka can do to return with a volley. It is so low that Sanada sucks in a breath. The ball hits the net right on the ribbon.
No!
Shit!
I WON'T LOSE!
Sanada starts to run. The ball wavers and decides where to fall. Everything is on the line. Sanada forces his legs to move. He forces his blood to pump and his lungs to open to give him the last effort he needs. A cord ball holds his fate.
Sanada drives.
Sanada screams. He screams for the five years of frustration. He screams for the past year. He screams for Yukimura and for himself. It is pure chance that his racket recoils with the ping of the ball hitting it. Sanada glares at the ball. He glowers. He burns a hole through the yellow felt and wills the ball to bounce high enough to go back over. His body is a smear across the court. Tezuka is crumpled at the baseline. His racket is halfway across the court.
The ball dances on the net. "THE WINNER WILL BE SEIAGKU!" Tezuka screams.
"DROP OVER THE OTHER SIDE!" Sanada screams. He collapses onto his back. The ball bounces and silence falls like a pin drop.
The referee announces, "Game set won by-"
Sanada squeezes his eyes closed.
"Sanada Genichirou, 7-5!"
Tezuka's hand is warm when they shake. His eyes stare. Sanada feels something stir in his stomach. He doesn't want to admit that it is admiration.
When he walks off court, Sanada doesn't feel a sense of vengeance served, or that victorious thrill in his stomach. He doesn't feel a sense of completion or satisfaction. Yukimura touches Sanada's shoulder and Sanada feels nothing but a clammy hand on his sore muscles.
He will never again play someone the likes of Tezuka.
Yukimura loses to that twelve year old brat anyway. The season comes full circle.
16.
It's the end of the season.
The first maples have begun to blush red and the ginkos are gilded on their fingertips. The air has a crispness that wasn't there before and the nights are growing longer. Homework piles up. Deadlines to high school entrance exams loom closer. Sanada walks on the pavement from school behind the group of freshmen. His pants hems drag in the mud puddles. His shoes are soaked through. Practice was wet. The sky keeps drizzling.
Sanada gave his umbrella to Urayama Shiita. Urayama skips along beside Yukimura. The umbrella bobs over his head. There are a dozen freshmen between Sanada and Yukimura, all of whom need to be walked home. Yukimura insisted on treating them during his last day as buchou. Sanada's head hurts from the arcade. Akaya was there too.
Pachinko balls ring in his ears. The UFO catcher grates his skull. Rain sluices down Sanada's neck where his cap doesn't cover. It is cool and he shivers. The days are warm when the sun is out. Now, in early evening, the world is cold and grey. Red lanterns of noodle bars and yakitori joints glow in the drizzling streets. The neighbourhood is cast in an eerie glow.
The group pauses at a small wooden gate next to a ryokan, tucked away in a narrow alley. Another freshman dropped off at home, safe. Yukimura waves. The gate closes. They keep walking. Urayama keeps skipping. Sanada walks too close to the edge of the road. A car drives by and a flood of oil-streaked water splashes onto Sanada's right leg. He frowns.
One by one the freshmen are dropped off. One by one the line diminishes. Sanada steps closer to Yukimura. He follows behind in silence. The rain falls. Water catches in the trees overhead. Bursts of wind send splashes down onto his arms and his head. Sanada breathes through his nose and closes his eyes. It is his last duty as fukubuchou. Yukimura asked this of him.
Urayama Shiita is the last freshman. Sanada's sneakers are sludgy and his socks stick between his toes. There is a large puddle in the sidewalk crack in front of the Urayama family gate. Sanada does not realize this until his toes lose feeling. He looks down. His jaw tightens. He steps left, but the puddle is even deeper there.
Yukimura's umbrella tips when he leans to open the gate. A new flood of water drips onto Sanada's shoulder. The sun has set entirely now and the house shines onto the street. Yellow light streams through the windows; it wavers in the puddles by Sanada's feet. No doubt, it is warm and dry inside the freshman's house. Urayama's cheeks are pink from the walk. He rushes up to his doorway. "Goodbye buchou! I'm so jealous of all your wins!" he calls.
Yukimura smiles at him. "Good luck next year! Win another Nationals for me!"
Urayama ducks his head. He folds up Sanada's umbrella, then he turns around with wide eyes. He runs back to the gate and holds the umbrella out to Sanada.
"Thank you, too, fukubuchou," he mutters. He bows his head. Sanada takes the umbrella. He doesn't open it until Urayama is inside and the door has closed.
He and Yukimura stand in the rain together. Now the junior high tennis club is finished for them. Yukimura stares at the puddles gathering under their feet. His face is wet. Sanada doesn't know if it is from the rain or not.
His stomach flutters like the autumn leaves on trees. The rain makes the fragile leaves heavy. More and more fall with the rain as they walk to the end of the street. The smell of exhaust is thick, and the cold chemical scent of rain hangs in the suburbs. Yukimura's brow knits. Sanada's hands are cold around his umbrella handle. He holds it closer to Yukimura to bridge the gap between them.
"Do you want to go to a café?" he asks. The light from the Starbucks sign down the street glows white and green. The rain drips off the ribs of their umbrellas and splashes on their arms. Yukimura looks away from Sanada. He faces the street and mumbles something. It is cold enough that his teeth chatter. Sanada cannot hear what Yukimura says.
"Yukimura?"
Yukimura turns slowly. He lifts his umbrella up. His face is pale and his lips are too. Sanada leans forward. Fear rises and he lunges to grab Yukimura, but Yukimura never falls. Instead, his mouth moves and he repeats himself. The words echo on the lonely street. Rain continues to fall around them, splattering their clothing.
"No one's home. Come over."
Sanada shivers. His insides twist up, and then unravel as they walk, wordless, to Yukimura's apartment. It takes maybe ten minutes by bus. Sanada looks out the window at the rushing suburbs. He hugs his tennisbag close because Yukimura sits beside him. Their skin is cold and clammy and pressed together, from elbows to knees. It makes electricity flicker in Sanada's spine. He shivers again.
Is this what it will be like…?
He closes his eyes. Yukimura presses the button to call the stop. Blood rushes in Sanada's ears as they walk to the apartment building. It is as grey as the sky, drab concrete with a dozen identical balconies. No futons are hung outside today. It's still raining.
The apartment is cool and dark inside. What little light of day there was has darkened to a dim blackness over the city. Sanada waits in the doorway. His shoes drip all over the floor. There is a pair of guest slippers Yukimura toes at him. Sanada can't move.
Yukimura walks up to him. He doesn't press with words, but he places his palm over Sanada's throbbing heart. His hair is wet under Sanada's chin. His lips are hot on Sanada's neck.
"Do you remember the first day of junior high school?" he asks. "When we had lunch together?"
Sanada's breath is shuddered. He tries to lift his hands from his sides to push Yukimura away. He tries to open his mouth to speak and say no, they're too young for this. He tries to resist the urges in his body and the swollen flush creeping over his skin, making his dick twitch and his insides burn. Sanada does nothing.
Yukimura looks at him. In the darkness of the hallway, he is silhouetted by the lights streaming through a window opposite. The curtains billow softly like a ghost. Yukimura licks his ear. Sanada's belly shivers.
"I liked you from the very first day," Yukimura murmurs. "You'll be my first."
First love…
Sanada squeezes his eyes closed. He opens his mouth to breath and somehow, instead, he starts to kiss Yukimura. He pushes Yukimura into the wall. Their teeth clack. Someone says "Ow!", but they keep kissing. Yukimura tastes like popcorn from the arcade. His lips are salty but his tongue is hot and wet and sweet inside Sanada's mouth. Sanada groans. Yukimura pushes his shirt up to touch Sanada's skin.
In Yukimura's room, they have sex on the floor. It is the first time Sanada has seen Yukimura naked like this, his dick hard and swollen and weeping. It is the first time Yukimura has seen Sanada like this. "Do you like this?" he moans. Yukimura throws his head back. The floor is cold and covered in crumbs. Yukimura doesn't complain, except when Sanada hesitates to rub his palm over Yukimura's dick hard enough.
"Your form is terrible!" Yukimura says. He squeezes Sanada's hand in his. "Harder!" When Sanada tightens his hand, Yukimura's knees buck. His body shakes. His toes dig into a biology textbook. Yukimura's mewls strike the match that catches fire in Sanada's balls. They roll around on the floor and kiss.
"I have everything," Yukimura says. He kisses the back of Sanada's neck. He kisses Sanada's spine. His flaming kisses leave Sanada a mess of hormones and gasps when he kisses the base of Sanada's spine and licks a path over Sanada's butt cheek. Their fingers curl together. Sanada's back arches. They explore each other. Yukimura grabs Sanada's shoulders and pulls him on top. Time ticks by the sound of rain pattering on the window. Yukimura kisses him. Sanada kisses him back. He touches Yukimura's hip and shudders again.
You'll be my first and only, Sanada thinks. He doesn't do it right. Yukimura smacks him on the head. Yukimura kicks him in the ear. Yukimura yelps. Sanada comes in the cleft of Yukimura's bum before he pushes his dick inside. His skin is so tight and hot even with the lube smeared all over. He pants hard and spills himself. He falls down onto Yukimura's tense body. Yukimura whacks his ear again.
"You have to make me come when you're inside me," he whispers. His hands touch Sanada's dick. They curl around his softening cock and tug again. "Sanada…" he moans. His hair is damp with sweat and his neck is long. Sanada kisses his jaw. He apologizes with his hands. He apologizes with a new erection when Yukimura rubs hard enough, long enough.
The second time, he pushes inside Yukimura's slick, trembling body. It is better than anything Sanada has ever done before. Yukimura comes after Sanada (after Sanada wraps his hand around Yukimura's dick and squeezes, pulls, pumps the pleasure into Yukimura's shaking body). Under their bodies, the crumbs crunch on the floor. Sanada's heart skips a beat when Yukimura moans his name and slides his hands over the back of Sanada's neck. There is come in his hair-Sanada doesn't know how it got there, but it doesn't matter. Yukimura's heart beats too against Sanada's chest. Their bodies curl together, kittenwise, limbs tangled up as the night sets in.
Yukimura is alive and smiling at him.
"We have mushroom shumai in the fridge," Yukimura says.
Sanada smiles back.