FIC: Rewind Forward (D1) 63/63
Title: Rewind Forward (63/63)
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 366 000+
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Niou, meet Yagyuu.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for everything.
Comments are very much welcome and appreciated :)
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Part 24] [Part 25] [Part 26] [Part 27] [Part 28] [Part 29] [Part 30] [Part 31] [Part 32] [Part 33] [Part 34] [Part 35] [Part 36] [Part 37] [Part 38] [Part 39] [Part 40] [Part 41] [Part 42] [Part 43] [Part 44] [Part 45] [Part 46] [Part 47] [Part 48] [Part 49] [Part 50] [Part 51] [Part 52] [Part 53] [Part 54] [Part 55] [Part 56] [Part 57] [Part 58] [Part 59] [Part 60] [Part 61] [Part 62] [Part 63]
In the lobby, Niou reads the folded, dog-eared bus schedule Yagyuu had in his bag as Yagyuu checks out. Niou's doing nothing, just letting his eyes take in the times with lazy ease as he slouches against the wall. The key jingles when Yagyuu passes it to the ryokan owner. He bows and says thank you. From where he is, Niou nods his head.
The sound of giggling drifts into the lobby. Niou stands up, his legs creaking and flushing with the deep-set ache of last night. He narrows his eyes, watching the four girls, all in floaty tops and tiny shorts shuffle up to Yagyuu.
The one with the braid looks at Niou. Then she sniffs and flips her hair.
"Hiroshi-kun," she says, whining in a high-pitched nasal, "can we get your phone number?"
The other girls bat their lashes.
Yagyuu turns to Niou, but Niou looks down, picking at a hangnail on his index finger. He listens to the sound of keypads on cellphones being pressed, then the beep of finality: numbers exchanged.
All four wave and shriek "Bye bye!" as Yagyuu grabs his wheely suitcase. Niou slings a bag over each of his shoulders. He hesitates at the door, peeking out under the noren curtains with a frown. Rippling heat blazes off the forest floor and the uneven pavement of the ryokan driveway. His shoulders slump. He can feel the mugginess in his muscles already.
Outside, on second thought, as the first wave of sluggish, rolling heat attacks Niou, he dumps his duffel bag on top of Yagyuu's suitcase. Yagyuu stops for a moment. "Niou-kun," he says. He clicks his tongue. Sweat begins to dribble down the sides of his nose, forming under his glasses nose pieces. Niou licks at the sweat beading on his own top lip.
"It's downhill," Niou says.
They walk. Their sneakers crunch the gravel, still damp from this morning's dew. On the road, the mist is thick, a gauzey veil over the tops of the cryptomeria trees. The sky is dull, the forests dark and green, drooping and uneven the way Niou does as he walks, scuffing his toes to kick up dirt, for no particular reason.
A lorry drives by, chugging and rattling timber leaning out the bed in the back. Niou ducks into the ditch. Yagyuu stands up straight, taking a moment to stretch his fingers out before they curl back around his suitcase handle.
"Give me your phone," Niou says. He squints. He can see the bus stop down the hill, a lone, rusted post and a weather-beaten sign at the top. White paint chips peel at the edges. The rattling lorry retreats into the distance, but the heavy smell of exhaust remains. Niou breathes it in deep, loving the faint tingle the diesel leaves in his lungs.
"Why?" Yagyuu asks. He pulls his cellphone from his pocket, but he doesn't hand it to Niou right away. A charm dangles. Niou grabs it. Yagyuu's hand is sweaty, too warm, but Niou lets his touch linger just a moment longer than he needs to.
He closes his eyes and inhales. "Please?"
Yagyuu lets go.
Niou scans the list of contacts. At the very bottom, the most recent entry, is the name Fumie Mariko.
Delete.
Ok?
Niou clenches his jaw. A tight smile tugs on his lips as his finger jabs the last button. A flush of pride, of satisfaction and pleasure burns his belly and sends jolts of electricity all the way down to his toes. Niou glances up into the trees, taking in the rustles of leaves and the rhythmic hum of insects with a long, hard glance. A single dribble of sweat sluices down his back, wetting his t-shirt with a dark trail.
Fumie Mariko is as good as dead now.
Niou hands Yagyuu the cellphone.
"Happy?" Yagyuu asks.
Niou looks up through his bangs and a sideways smile breaks out across his face.
***
The close they get to home, the longer it seems to take. The more Niou wants to be home. The heavier his bags seem to get.
At Omiya, they drag their bags down the flight of stairs on the platform toward the noodle bars. Niou doesn't remember all that he stuffed into his bags, but leaden bars and Sanada's family boulder seem to be about right. He heaves his bag over tennis his shoulder. Niou cringes as the strap cuts into his skin. He drags his duffel bag on the floor, not caring when the salarymen and their tiny wheeled suitcases give him weird looks.
Yagyuu looks just as awkward, pushing his hard-case suitcase through the corridors. He nods to the first shop, just across from the platform entrance. "There?"
Udon.
Niou is about to shrug, when his noses twitches. Among the smells of sour people and fishy udon broth, deep-fried bentos to go and even the damp cement that permeates everything is the distinct smell of:
Beef.
His eyes scan the corridor, then his belly grumbles. There, at the far end near the sign directing passengers to the west exit, is a yellow sign for a gyudon shop. Niou cocks his head to the sign. It takes Yagyuu a moment to notice. Yagyuu lets out a small sigh, as if he should have known the entire time.
Gyudon is delicious, sitting in Niou's stomach, coiled up with the sweet onions and rice, mixing as his stomach digests. Niou sucks on the last beef, wedged between his back teeth. They walk past a vending machine. Yagyuu says, "We have to hurry to catch this train-it leaves in four minutes!"
But Yagyuu isn't very fast, despite the rolly suitcase. It weaves through the corridor, mindless as it zigzags, nearly cutting into old tourists in khaki pants and more salarymen heading back to Tokyo offices.
The electric orange characters of the train schedule read three minutes now. An overhead announcement in a pleasant female voice calls for the last passengers. Niou stays by the vending machine, half-starting to move toward Yagyuu, but when he looks up, Yagyuu's face is screwed up with the effort to drag his suitcase up the first stairs.
Across the toilets, just past Yagyuu, is a sign for the elevator.
Yagyuu looks up, red-faced, and he calls Niou's name. "We have to go!"
They're gonna miss the train anyway.
Niou shouts back to Yagyuu, "Got 200 yen?"
***
Niou guzzles the Calpis. His throat bobs. Goose pimples break out over his arms as he shivers. The back of his throat is frozen and itchy with brain freeze. The PET bottle is cold to the touch, sweating in Niou's hand. He presses it to the back of his neck and sighs.
The platform is an endless strip of pavement, baked by the heat, rippling with illusions of rubbish, swarming with tiny flies over recycling and garbage bins. A lonely janitor sweeps up crisp packets near the glowing vending machine.
Niou says, "It's okay if you have to smoke."
The next train comes in forty-two minutes. Niou bends down. Squatting aches less than standing. Closer to the ground, with his legs spread frog-like, Niou can smell the sweat from his crotch. Gross, kinda funky, good thing Yagyuu isn't down here. Good thing they’re the only ones out here on the platform.
"I don't need to smoke," Yagyuu says. He looks down, face bland and glasses gleaming, hiding his eyes.
Niou raises an eyebrow. You did at the train stations on the way here…
When Yagyuu doesn't answer, Niou pokes him in the calm. Yagyuu jerks forward at the knees. He frowns.
"Why not?" Niou asks. He blows at the hair, limp over his eyes, clinging to his nose, like the vines creeping over the chain link fence separating the train tracks from the sea of cement block apartments and stagnant buildings.
Yagyuu blinks. He folds up his handkerchief and dabs his upper lip and the sides of his face. He exhales. His Adam's Apple bobs, as though his throat is as thick as the moist heat pushing Niou down down down.
"I only do that when I'm nervous," Yagyuu says, like it's the most obvious thing.
Niou says nothing until the train comes. He squats, then sits on one of the wooden benches, staring at the advertisements paralleling the platform until his eyes blur and the passing trains become nothing but a rush of hot air blasting his face.
On the train to Tokyo, they take a set of three seats. Yagyuu shoves his suitcase close to the window and Niou touches the back of Yagyuu's wrist. Yagyuu turns his head. His chest rises and falls, but his eyes are steady as the train jostles and pulls away from the tracks.
With his fingertips, Niou traces the words. Don't be nervous.
It takes Yagyuu a long time to blink. Then, he closes his eyes. His eyelashes are long and straight-normally unnoticed behind his glasses. Niou's chest feels tight and heavy when a hint of a smile plays on Yagyuu's face, in the corners of his eyes.
"I'm not anymore," Yagyuu says.
The strength of his voice, low and smooth, makes Niou feel a pang of nervousness instead.
***
They change trains again in Shibuya, then catch the express to Kanagawa. The cryptomeria and bamboo forests of this morning are replaced with forests of concrete and glass, blurring into one modern mess that puts Niou to sleep. It's nearly supper time by the time the train pulls into their stop. Niou cracks an eye open and scratches the back of his head. He's sweaty as much from sitting as he is from the heat outside and the efforts of dragging his bags around.
Niou stands up, and remembers his ass hurts. He snorts.
"Are you going to the hanabi with everyone else?" Yagyuu asks. They stand at the bus stop, bags dumped at their feet. Yagyuu has his cellphone flipped out. He doesn't look at Niou as he speaks-he's too busy texting.
"Dunno," Niou says. He fakes a yawn. A bus approaches and Niou can make out the number: an 82, perfect. It'll get both him and Yagyuu home in one go.
Niou reaches for his tennisbag. The rustle makes Yagyuu look up and pause his typing. "Everyone will be there," Yagyuu says. "I'm going to wear my jinbei."
Niou makes a noise, not quite a puri, but not a piyo either. Truthfully, he can't remember the last time he let himself be dragged with his family to summer fireworks. All the memories of being bored and embarrassed by the megane dorks, coupled with the raging heat of summer and being crammed into a yukata and geta that made his toes cramp up?
No thanks.
"Marui-kun wants to know if we're coming," Yagyuu says. They get onto the bus. Niou doesn't bother to grab a number. He knows how much his stop will cost. Yagyuu, however, does. With their bags, there's no room to sit. Niou grabs the closest hand hold in the middle of the bus. Yagyuu grabs the one just ahead of him. His cellphone is still flipped out.
Yagyuu raises his eyebrows. His thumb hovers over a key. "Will you come?" he asks.
Niou makes a face. The bus swerves around a corner and he shifts his weight to keep his balance. Yagyuu's suitcase wheels into Niou's knee, bumping hard. Niou blows a raspberry and glances toward the window. The green blind has been drawn, but he can make out the distinct tricolour glow of a Familymart sign.
Yagyuu's suitcase is heavy against his leg, pressing plastic and making Niou's leg sweat.
Finally, Niou mutters under his breath. "Fine."
***
It's weird being home, opening the gate, walking up the pathway, seeing the Golf in the driveway and knowing his family is home. Niou doesn't think two days with Yagyuu would have changed him, but thinking about all that's happened, trying to force himself to walk casually, as though he doesn't have bruises on his chest or sore muscles is hard. His face burns and Niou can't make it go away. It might be easier if the sun had set. As it is, it hangs low in the west, orange and comfortable as Niou's shadow paints the doorway. Without the cover of darkness he's totally exposed.
I'm home, he thinks. The door groans and his bags hit the floor with a thud. Niou sucks in a breath. Shuffled footsteps-his mom-and then her face breaks into a smile when she sees him.
"How was your tennis camp?"
"Fine," Niou mumbles. He tries to duck past her. She blocks him, like she's intentionally trying to stop him in order to grill Niou with questions.
"What did you eat?"
"How was Yamanashi?"
"Did you do any hiking?"
"Did you play lots of tennis?"
She's got Niou trapped. He tries to dodge her other side and run upstairs. He tries to dart around her, but she keeps smiling, waiting for an answer as Niou's blush deepens. His stomach is in knots. Her glasses slip down her nose and her eyes search him over the frames, searching for the truth as Niou fears the worst.
That she knows.
His mouth is so dry, so woolen that even if he wanted, he couldn't answer her with anything more specific than a vague, "Fine. It was fine."
He checks his watch. Nearly six. Something sizzles in the kitchen. His mom has on her apron, crossed at the back and faded pink in the front. Her hair pulls out from the tie at the back. "Masaharu?"
"I'm going out," he says. Niou runs up four stairs in two steps. "Where's my…" he mutters the last word, hoping she won't hear, "jinbei?"
She does.
"Your jinbei?"
Damn you damn you damn you Yagyuu for saying you're wearing yours!
The blood drains from Niou's face, slithering down in a cold fever that makes him shiver. He purses his lips. "That," he says through his teeth.
"You haven't worn it in ages!" she says. She keeps blinking and staring at him, like Niou is different. Like he's not only had sex up the butt, but grown another head or two as well.
Niou pushes a shaking hand through his hair, ruffling and messing the limp, sweaty strands. "We're going to the park," he says. "Do I have one or not?" he snaps.
She frowns. "Don't be rude, Masaharu. You'll have to wear Dad's. If you had told me ahead of time, I could have looked for a new set for you."
Anger flushes in Niou's belly. He wants to shout that it wasn't his fault Yagyuu told him on the bus. It wasn't his fault Yagyuu had the bright idea to dress up for the fireworks. It wasn't his fault that he was even going. Everyone is. Yagyuu is.
Niou wants to, too.
Only, not to see the lame fireworks. That'll be boring. He just wants to be with Yagyuu, on their last night of freedom before tomorrow. And then the Nationals.
"I thought you didn't like to go see the fireworks?" his mom says.
Niou bristles. His mom's little smile sets him on edge and makes his scalp crawl, itchy and sweaty and he's glad to finally run past her and slam his bedroom door.
Too many questions.
Way too many questions
As soon as his mom knocks on Niou's door, with his father's set of jinbei, in boring blue print, Niou grabs them and shuts the door. He's got just enough time to rush to the station to meet Yagyuu, then to rush to the park to meet everyone else. At times like this, Niou almost wishes he was the laser beam, able to cut through time and space with a neon yellow streak.
Or in his case, a bleached one.
Niou ties the side of the top and wiggles. He checks his face out in the mirror and messes his bangs up, untangling the sweaty clump of hair. He tilts his head, checks the back and tightens his rat tail. He licks his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he can make out a pink mark on his neck. Niou thinks, Shit, and pats down a section of hair in a quick attempt to cover it.
All that matters is getting out of the house. The park will be dark. No one will notice his hickies then. Marui and Jackal will be too busy checking out the wonderchibi's sister, Kirihara will be too busy being grossed out, Sanada and Yukimura will be making mooneyes at each other and Yanagi will be taking shots of the fireworks with his cellphone. No one will care about Niou.
Except his mom.
Who is waiting on the other side of his bedroom door when he flings it open.
"Does it fit?" she asks.
Niou tries to run past her. She stops him with a clammy hand to his arm. She smoothes the front of the jinbei and clicks her tongue. "It doesn't look too bad," she says.
Niou leans left, ready to bolt. His heart slams into his ribs. His pulse quickens and rushes in his ears. His mother keeps touching the jinbei, picking at the sleeves and then frowning. "You should pull the shorts up before they fall down," she says.
Niou sighs and rolls his eyes. He hoists up the waist and glares at her, pointedly. "Better?"
She smiles and nods.
Niou runs down the stairs, taking them two, three at a time. He rummages through the closet, chucking out the first pair of sandals he finds. Old ones, last summer's, a bit too short and his baby toe hangs off the side, but they’ll do. He's got his hand on the door handle when the back of his neck bristles.
His mom holds out a thousand yen note. As Niou runs out the house, his flip-flops slapping the flagstone pavement, she calls out, "Have fun on your date!"
Niou is halfway to the bus stop, panting and sweaty in the dying light, when his mind finally processes what she said to him.
His jaw drops.
A shiver runs down his spine, hot and burning shame creeping up his throat along with the bitter bile from his stomach.
His watch beeps. Six thirty.
Niou takes a shuffling step forward on the sidewalk. Behind him, someone on a bike rings their bell. Niou doesn't move to the side. His arms hang limp and his knees are jelly.
She
Knows
"Niou-kun!"
His mind is playing tricks on him, pretending to be Yagyuu's voice. His mother's words sit heavy, forcing Niou into a death march toward the bus stop, slow and mournful as the twisting gnaw inside starts to consume him with frozen coils of realization.
She knows.
Niou wants to puke.
"Niou-kun!"
The traffic rushes down the street when the light changes. Niou takes another leaden step. He swallows hard and his head hangs. His chest is starting to cave into itself, aching and tight and-
"NIOU-KUN!"
A bike skids in front of Niou, stopping him dead in his tracks. Niou looks up, following the long line of hairy leg to the striped blue and grey jinbei shorst, bent knee on the bike pedal.
Niou blinks.
"Yagyuu?"
In three years he's known Yagyuu, not once has Niou seen him on a bike. Then again, Yagyuu usually has a tennisbag-and before that, a golf bag-to carry.
"This will be faster than the bus," Yagyuu says. Niou can feel Yagyuu's eyes on him, taking in the loose fit of his dad's jinbei, moving up, then down Niou's body, pupils dark and glowing in the soft gilded light that turns the rooftops of houses into liquid gold.
"Here," Yagyuu says. He scoots up closer to the front of his seat. He nods for Niou. The dying sun shifts, streaming across the traffic in a blinding beam, straight into Niou's face, burning and flushing his skin even hotter.
Niou swallows. His throat catches. He tries to take a breath and hop on, like nothing's happened, but his body is stiff. "My mom knows," Niou mumbles.
Yagyuu's body jerks forward. The air whips Niou's hair up, fluttering by as Yagyuu pedals hard and back and forth, side to side as he moves, arms stretched out, legs furiously pedaling. The bike leans to the side. Niou starts to slip, his body slackening in the moment for freefall and he catches himself, gasps and grabs onto Yagyuu in a fierce hold. Niou closes his eyes, face to Yagyuu's back. He can smell the soft floral of laundry detergent on the soft cotton jinbei. His hair keeps fluttering. The bike jerks and the chain spins, metallic and jingling as Yagyuu rides with the traffic, cutting past pedestrians left, right, constantly moving and jerking and shifting, moving and jerking and shifting Niou with him.
Yagyuu isn't listening.
"My. Mom. KNOWS!" Niou shouts.
Traffic light: red. The brakes screech as Yagyuu comes to a halt, tapping his foot on the pedal and leaning slightly right, onto his leg. Niou sets a foot onto the ground to steady himself. His stomach is empty, but an oniony belch from lunch in the train station surfaces, forcing its way out. Niou runs his tongue over the backs of his teeth. Residual onion taste cloys to his mouth, acrid with bile.
"My mom knows," Niou whispers. His knuckles crack as he holds Yagyuu's waist. Tight. Yagyuu's stomach moves as he breathes.
The light changes to green. The pedestrian crossing chirps. Engines rev and so does Yagyuu's bike. The rushing air is refreshing, but it does nothing to cool the harsh blush of shame on Niou's face.
Yagyuu pedals. He zips down another street, leaning right and turning sharp. He follows the signs to the station, in the direction of the harbour front park. At the first scent of fishiness in the air, Yagyuu says, "So? Your mom loves you."
Yagyuu's voice is nearly drowned out by the honk of horns and the constant stall and start of vehicles, the rushing scooters and snaking lines of traffic. It's rush hour. Yagyuu pedals harder. Fabric folds of Niou's jinbei rush and flap against his shins.
"What?" he shouts.
"Your mom won't care!" Yagyuu yells. His words are loud, but his tone is light.
They crash to a stop. Yagyuu walks his bike to the racks outside Motomachi station. The metal glimmers in the mauve light. To the east, the skyscrapers of MM21 glitter, their windows a wash of checkered yellow in the velvet sky.
Niou stuffs his hands into his pocket. He fingers the folds of the thousand yen bill, trying to remember just how his mother said it. But the bike ride here has dulled and changed her words, morphed them into the millions of other things she's said to him over the years: disappointment, frustration, occasional bemusement.
And all Niou can grasp is the vague feeling she was smiling at him as he ran out the door.
He shakes his head once. Yagyuu can't see-his back is turned as he locks his bike, rolling the combination around three times and assuming that no one will steal it. All it takes is a good ear to listen for the clicks. Niou could probably swipe the bike in five minutes, if he tried.
Instead, Niou sighs through his nostrils. "How can you know that?" he asks.
Yagyuu has the same, curving smile and it makes Niou catch his breath, surprised in the instant when Yagyuu grabs his hand and yanks. Yagyuu starts to run, pulling Niou with him. Yagyuu's sandals smack the pavement in perfect tune with Niou's, jumping over the cracks in the pavements as they run toward the chaos of the park.
At the traffic light, past a block of concrete office buildings and upscale boutiques, glowing yellow with posh mannequins of sequined dresses and glossy leather bags, cafes of smoking patrons with clinking glasses of alcohol, and dozens of people in clopping geta and cameras hung around their necks, Yagyuu stops. Niou stops. He doesn't need to catch his breath. A breeze comes off the water, salty and fresh. Niou breathes in, letting the cooler air drift over his heated skin.
"Niou-kun, you're not as secretive as you think," Yagyuu says. "You're a lot like your mother."
Niou nearly chokes, if it wasn't for the policeman directing traffic, waving them across the street with his flashing baton. Yagyuu tugs his hand again. Niou is forced to move. The park is roped off, the entrances obvious from the streams of people, all moving in one direction. Niou stays close to Yagyuu, stunned to silence by Yagyuu's words and unable to do anything other than follow.
It's a constricting, claustrophobic press of people, pushing and seething, swarming forward like a single living mass. Niou pushes and shoves back on them, earning glares from girls in pink yukatas and more from their boyfriends. Niou gets into the feeling of the mob. He smirks back at people and shoves some more. Niou flips his hair back-he can't even so much as squeeze his hand up to push his bangs from his eyes. One false move, and the masses will crush him; Yagyuu lost forever.
The squeeze of Yagyuu's fingers him tells Niou he's there, even with other heads in the way, trying to push between them. A row of food stalls recedes into the background, glowing yellow, steaming with sizzling squid and okonomiyaki crepes, fried chicken, thick and greasy in the air, beckoning Niou with a grumbling stomach. The harbour side is thickest with people, weaving around the trees to set down tarps and claim territory.
Niou looks left: a shaved ice stand and sparklers, hissing chemical-scented embers into the dusk. Niou looks right: the large sculpture of rusted, iron-red train carriages, arranged and stacked in something some pretentious snob might call "art".
Yagyuu's hand tightens. Niou scans the crowds.
And the first head he recognizes is pink and garish, next to a bald one, Jackal, in a yukata, waving an uchiwa in Marui's face.
Yagyuu shouts. Then he waves. At two feet, Kirihara finally notices and yells. "SENPAIS!"
In an instant Niou drops Yagyuu's hand. His eyes dart around. No one notices. He sighs, finally able to breathe as they step away from the crowds and into the crevices of the sculpture.
Yukimura elbows Niou with his fan. There's a camera hanging around his neck and he's red-faced, but smiling. Next to him, Sanada's in a yukata, constipated as ever, and Yanagi looming beyond that, checking his watch for the time.
Yukimura leans into Niou, his t-shirt brushing Niou's arm-so much for everyone else on the team dressing up. Marui's in a t-shirt too, and the wonderchibi has his tennis uniform on.
"You," Yukimura shouts above the crowd, "and Yagyuu are soooooo dead."
Niou pulls back, staring at Yukimura with wide eyes. How…?
With his fan-one of those freebies, handed out by freeters loitering around the edges of the park-Yukimura points to Yagyuu's arms.
Bare.
No wristweights.
Niou groans. "Puri." He tightens his jaw, waiting for Yukimura to go on, to punish him here and now as Sanada narrows his eyes, no cap to darken his scowling face tonight.
Instead, Yukimura throws his head back and laughs. "We'll worry about that tomorrow," he says. Niou can barely hear until Yukimura takes a deep, shuddering breath and raises his voice. "We have to get our spot soon!"
Niou looks back, to Yagyuu and Jackal. He raises his eyebrows.
Marui has a toothy grin as he rubs his fat paws together. "Akaya's sister is saving us a spot," he says.
Niou walks. Someone bumps his side. Then his other side. Kirihara has a hold on the hem of Yanagi's t-shirt, so Niou grabs onto the kid's arm.
"Akaya's sister and her boyfriend, you mean," Jackal adds.
Marui's pout brings a smile to Niou's face.
It's probably only a hundred metres or two, towards a group of stubby trees, but it seems to take forever-a hot, crowded, tight and choking forever, shuffling forward, one step at a time, moving achingly slow as the sun sets into finality and the harbour water gleams black at last.
Now, Niou can only make out the shadows of people. He sees the spot, he sees his teammates spread out across a tarp, held by some guy who looks suspiciously Sanada-like and a girl with crazy, seaweedy hair and a shrieking voice when she grabs Kirihara by the arm and shouts, "Mom said she'd KILL me if you got lost again, so STAY PUT!"
Niou snickers.
Kirihara's sister whips her head around and glares at Niou. Her eyes flash orange in the weak streetlamp light combining with the golden glow of food stands. "Do you have a PROBLEM?"
Niou slinks away. He bumps into Yagyuu, who slips off a sandal to step onto the tarp. "Food?" Niou asks.
Yagyuu pauses, then nods. "All right."
The shaved ice stand is a beacon-or rather, those sparklers are. Niou makes a beeline, not even in the mood to try to be vague and sneaky about it. That, and the stand is the closest to their spot, save for the squid sticks next stand over. Cutting through the crowd, all moving perpendicular, all searching for their own spots to camp out and catch the fireworks, is easier if Niou just barrels his way through, refusing to pause and wait for Yagyuu's 'excuse me' and 'sorry's.
Cola shaved ice. Topped with fruit and a cherry, condensed milk and a sparkler. The middle-aged woman dishes up Niou's shaved ice and she reaches for a sparkler.
"Could you do two of those?" Niou asks.
She looks up, repeating what Niou asked, as if she can’t understand the words.
"Yeah," Niou says. His face burns. He ignores it as best he can. Yagyuu waits at the edge of the stand, arms crossed over his chest, half illuminated, have shadowed by raking darkness.
"One for me, and one for my…friend," Niou says.
The woman smiles and nods. She lights two sparklers, which form a tight v at the top of his shaved ice. The cherry and pineapple slices slide down the sides. Condensation has already formed on the cup by the time Niou shuffles over to Yagyuu and nods.
With sparklers, it's a hell of a lot easier to cut through the snaking throng. The embers hiss and catch in the air. Yagyuu steps ahead of Niou and his face glows, warm and bright through the sparks.
At the edge of the tarps, Niou stops. He touches Yagyuu's side, just a brush, enough to catch his attention. In its dying gasps, Niou hands Yagyuu one of the sparklers, his own hand close enough to the burning metal that Niou can feel the heat searing his skin.
"Here," he says.
"Thank you," Yagyuu says. He smiles, bland and beautiful as his glasses start to slip down his face.
Niou smirks.
The first fireworks erupt in bangs and deafening hisses when Niou's sparkler has barely gone cold. He toes off his sandals and squeezes down onto the tarp, one knee in Kirihara's sister's back and the other in Sanada's. Sanada stiffens-and leaning on his shoulder, Yukimura adjusts his cheek.
Niou gags.
"Shut up, Niou," Yukimura says.
Niou closes his mouth and shuts up. Until the next round of exploding fireworks, bursting chrysanthemums of red chemicals in the air, lighting up the harbour in a dual round of blooms-one, in the air, the other, the reflection on the water.
At his side, Yagyuu moves. His lenses reflect the fireworks, too: brilliant blues and yellows, turning to green, round fireworks like blossoms, one hundred feet wide, followed by snaking rockets of gold and orange, exploding into a chaotic garden in the sky.
"Look at that," Yagyuu murmurs. His lips move. He nods up, to the sky, and Niou has to squint through the trees.
"What?" Niou asks.
"Did you see that one change colour?" Yagyuu asks. Another burst, another explosion, followed by a dozen pops and then boom! Golden yellow fireworks rimmed with red petals. Niou squints as the colour blurs.
"Didn't you see?" Yagyuu asks.
Niou looks at him.
Yagyuu tilts his head to the side. For a second, before he speaks, as the fireworks burst and explode in a cacophony of colour and noise, Yagyuu's face flickers with the colours, painting over his pointy nose and his dark eyes, his chin and his eyebrows, too. Niou thinks about the first time he saw Yagyuu, three years ago, when Yagyuu showed up to try out for tennis and he stumbled and was the complete personification of megane dork. Yagyuu still pushes up his glasses the same way now as he did then.
Only now, everything is different.
Only now, that megane dork's fingers are twining with Niou's, hidden by the shadows as he holds Niou's hand and asks,
"Do you need glasses, Niou-kun?"
***
His feet are frozen.
The ground is muddy and slippery. On the incline, the bare roots make him trip. He stumbles. He shivers and rubs his hands together. Two pairs of gloves and still the cold cuts through, sharp like the icicles dripping from the bridge at the bottom of the mountain.
He looks up and his glasses slip down his face. The rest of them are ahead, ten, twenty meters, their breath pluming white clouds in the air. The trees are black, skeletal and broken up by the soft fingers of purple light starting to form in the east. It's too early to be awake.
His father yells, "Come on, Masaharu!"
Niou purses his lips. He sighs. His breath puffs out and dissipates in front of him, frosting the scarf wrapped around his face. He takes a slow step forward and one of the megane dork group turns around and waves back at him. Then, the rest of them, lenses flashing and bland smiles mocking him from further up on the trail.
Yagyuu cups his mittens around his mouth. His cowlick sticks up at the back of his head, right behind the earmuffs: a prresent from Niou's megane dork mom.
"Hurry up, Niou-kun!" Yagyuu shouts. "The bells are about to start."
Niou grumbles under his breath, nonsensical "Puri" and "stupid family". He plods along, moving higher, moving closer, lungs tight and tickling his ribs with cold. Finally, the last step on the mountain and he's there, panting and numb feet, burrowing deeper into his wool coat as he shuffles up to Yagyuu and shoves his sister out of the way.
The view from here on the mountaintop is spectacular. The thin red line of dawn creeps up and the first bells of the new year start to peel.
He turns to Yagyuu, who smiles at him, eyes glowing and face flushed with sunrise.
Niou pushes up his glasses and smiles back.
~finis~
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 366 000+
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Niou, meet Yagyuu.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for everything.
Comments are very much welcome and appreciated :)
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Part 24] [Part 25] [Part 26] [Part 27] [Part 28] [Part 29] [Part 30] [Part 31] [Part 32] [Part 33] [Part 34] [Part 35] [Part 36] [Part 37] [Part 38] [Part 39] [Part 40] [Part 41] [Part 42] [Part 43] [Part 44] [Part 45] [Part 46] [Part 47] [Part 48] [Part 49] [Part 50] [Part 51] [Part 52] [Part 53] [Part 54] [Part 55] [Part 56] [Part 57] [Part 58] [Part 59] [Part 60] [Part 61] [Part 62] [Part 63]
In the lobby, Niou reads the folded, dog-eared bus schedule Yagyuu had in his bag as Yagyuu checks out. Niou's doing nothing, just letting his eyes take in the times with lazy ease as he slouches against the wall. The key jingles when Yagyuu passes it to the ryokan owner. He bows and says thank you. From where he is, Niou nods his head.
The sound of giggling drifts into the lobby. Niou stands up, his legs creaking and flushing with the deep-set ache of last night. He narrows his eyes, watching the four girls, all in floaty tops and tiny shorts shuffle up to Yagyuu.
The one with the braid looks at Niou. Then she sniffs and flips her hair.
"Hiroshi-kun," she says, whining in a high-pitched nasal, "can we get your phone number?"
The other girls bat their lashes.
Yagyuu turns to Niou, but Niou looks down, picking at a hangnail on his index finger. He listens to the sound of keypads on cellphones being pressed, then the beep of finality: numbers exchanged.
All four wave and shriek "Bye bye!" as Yagyuu grabs his wheely suitcase. Niou slings a bag over each of his shoulders. He hesitates at the door, peeking out under the noren curtains with a frown. Rippling heat blazes off the forest floor and the uneven pavement of the ryokan driveway. His shoulders slump. He can feel the mugginess in his muscles already.
Outside, on second thought, as the first wave of sluggish, rolling heat attacks Niou, he dumps his duffel bag on top of Yagyuu's suitcase. Yagyuu stops for a moment. "Niou-kun," he says. He clicks his tongue. Sweat begins to dribble down the sides of his nose, forming under his glasses nose pieces. Niou licks at the sweat beading on his own top lip.
"It's downhill," Niou says.
They walk. Their sneakers crunch the gravel, still damp from this morning's dew. On the road, the mist is thick, a gauzey veil over the tops of the cryptomeria trees. The sky is dull, the forests dark and green, drooping and uneven the way Niou does as he walks, scuffing his toes to kick up dirt, for no particular reason.
A lorry drives by, chugging and rattling timber leaning out the bed in the back. Niou ducks into the ditch. Yagyuu stands up straight, taking a moment to stretch his fingers out before they curl back around his suitcase handle.
"Give me your phone," Niou says. He squints. He can see the bus stop down the hill, a lone, rusted post and a weather-beaten sign at the top. White paint chips peel at the edges. The rattling lorry retreats into the distance, but the heavy smell of exhaust remains. Niou breathes it in deep, loving the faint tingle the diesel leaves in his lungs.
"Why?" Yagyuu asks. He pulls his cellphone from his pocket, but he doesn't hand it to Niou right away. A charm dangles. Niou grabs it. Yagyuu's hand is sweaty, too warm, but Niou lets his touch linger just a moment longer than he needs to.
He closes his eyes and inhales. "Please?"
Yagyuu lets go.
Niou scans the list of contacts. At the very bottom, the most recent entry, is the name Fumie Mariko.
Delete.
Ok?
Niou clenches his jaw. A tight smile tugs on his lips as his finger jabs the last button. A flush of pride, of satisfaction and pleasure burns his belly and sends jolts of electricity all the way down to his toes. Niou glances up into the trees, taking in the rustles of leaves and the rhythmic hum of insects with a long, hard glance. A single dribble of sweat sluices down his back, wetting his t-shirt with a dark trail.
Fumie Mariko is as good as dead now.
Niou hands Yagyuu the cellphone.
"Happy?" Yagyuu asks.
Niou looks up through his bangs and a sideways smile breaks out across his face.
***
The close they get to home, the longer it seems to take. The more Niou wants to be home. The heavier his bags seem to get.
At Omiya, they drag their bags down the flight of stairs on the platform toward the noodle bars. Niou doesn't remember all that he stuffed into his bags, but leaden bars and Sanada's family boulder seem to be about right. He heaves his bag over tennis his shoulder. Niou cringes as the strap cuts into his skin. He drags his duffel bag on the floor, not caring when the salarymen and their tiny wheeled suitcases give him weird looks.
Yagyuu looks just as awkward, pushing his hard-case suitcase through the corridors. He nods to the first shop, just across from the platform entrance. "There?"
Udon.
Niou is about to shrug, when his noses twitches. Among the smells of sour people and fishy udon broth, deep-fried bentos to go and even the damp cement that permeates everything is the distinct smell of:
Beef.
His eyes scan the corridor, then his belly grumbles. There, at the far end near the sign directing passengers to the west exit, is a yellow sign for a gyudon shop. Niou cocks his head to the sign. It takes Yagyuu a moment to notice. Yagyuu lets out a small sigh, as if he should have known the entire time.
Gyudon is delicious, sitting in Niou's stomach, coiled up with the sweet onions and rice, mixing as his stomach digests. Niou sucks on the last beef, wedged between his back teeth. They walk past a vending machine. Yagyuu says, "We have to hurry to catch this train-it leaves in four minutes!"
But Yagyuu isn't very fast, despite the rolly suitcase. It weaves through the corridor, mindless as it zigzags, nearly cutting into old tourists in khaki pants and more salarymen heading back to Tokyo offices.
The electric orange characters of the train schedule read three minutes now. An overhead announcement in a pleasant female voice calls for the last passengers. Niou stays by the vending machine, half-starting to move toward Yagyuu, but when he looks up, Yagyuu's face is screwed up with the effort to drag his suitcase up the first stairs.
Across the toilets, just past Yagyuu, is a sign for the elevator.
Yagyuu looks up, red-faced, and he calls Niou's name. "We have to go!"
They're gonna miss the train anyway.
Niou shouts back to Yagyuu, "Got 200 yen?"
***
Niou guzzles the Calpis. His throat bobs. Goose pimples break out over his arms as he shivers. The back of his throat is frozen and itchy with brain freeze. The PET bottle is cold to the touch, sweating in Niou's hand. He presses it to the back of his neck and sighs.
The platform is an endless strip of pavement, baked by the heat, rippling with illusions of rubbish, swarming with tiny flies over recycling and garbage bins. A lonely janitor sweeps up crisp packets near the glowing vending machine.
Niou says, "It's okay if you have to smoke."
The next train comes in forty-two minutes. Niou bends down. Squatting aches less than standing. Closer to the ground, with his legs spread frog-like, Niou can smell the sweat from his crotch. Gross, kinda funky, good thing Yagyuu isn't down here. Good thing they’re the only ones out here on the platform.
"I don't need to smoke," Yagyuu says. He looks down, face bland and glasses gleaming, hiding his eyes.
Niou raises an eyebrow. You did at the train stations on the way here…
When Yagyuu doesn't answer, Niou pokes him in the calm. Yagyuu jerks forward at the knees. He frowns.
"Why not?" Niou asks. He blows at the hair, limp over his eyes, clinging to his nose, like the vines creeping over the chain link fence separating the train tracks from the sea of cement block apartments and stagnant buildings.
Yagyuu blinks. He folds up his handkerchief and dabs his upper lip and the sides of his face. He exhales. His Adam's Apple bobs, as though his throat is as thick as the moist heat pushing Niou down down down.
"I only do that when I'm nervous," Yagyuu says, like it's the most obvious thing.
Niou says nothing until the train comes. He squats, then sits on one of the wooden benches, staring at the advertisements paralleling the platform until his eyes blur and the passing trains become nothing but a rush of hot air blasting his face.
On the train to Tokyo, they take a set of three seats. Yagyuu shoves his suitcase close to the window and Niou touches the back of Yagyuu's wrist. Yagyuu turns his head. His chest rises and falls, but his eyes are steady as the train jostles and pulls away from the tracks.
With his fingertips, Niou traces the words. Don't be nervous.
It takes Yagyuu a long time to blink. Then, he closes his eyes. His eyelashes are long and straight-normally unnoticed behind his glasses. Niou's chest feels tight and heavy when a hint of a smile plays on Yagyuu's face, in the corners of his eyes.
"I'm not anymore," Yagyuu says.
The strength of his voice, low and smooth, makes Niou feel a pang of nervousness instead.
***
They change trains again in Shibuya, then catch the express to Kanagawa. The cryptomeria and bamboo forests of this morning are replaced with forests of concrete and glass, blurring into one modern mess that puts Niou to sleep. It's nearly supper time by the time the train pulls into their stop. Niou cracks an eye open and scratches the back of his head. He's sweaty as much from sitting as he is from the heat outside and the efforts of dragging his bags around.
Niou stands up, and remembers his ass hurts. He snorts.
"Are you going to the hanabi with everyone else?" Yagyuu asks. They stand at the bus stop, bags dumped at their feet. Yagyuu has his cellphone flipped out. He doesn't look at Niou as he speaks-he's too busy texting.
"Dunno," Niou says. He fakes a yawn. A bus approaches and Niou can make out the number: an 82, perfect. It'll get both him and Yagyuu home in one go.
Niou reaches for his tennisbag. The rustle makes Yagyuu look up and pause his typing. "Everyone will be there," Yagyuu says. "I'm going to wear my jinbei."
Niou makes a noise, not quite a puri, but not a piyo either. Truthfully, he can't remember the last time he let himself be dragged with his family to summer fireworks. All the memories of being bored and embarrassed by the megane dorks, coupled with the raging heat of summer and being crammed into a yukata and geta that made his toes cramp up?
No thanks.
"Marui-kun wants to know if we're coming," Yagyuu says. They get onto the bus. Niou doesn't bother to grab a number. He knows how much his stop will cost. Yagyuu, however, does. With their bags, there's no room to sit. Niou grabs the closest hand hold in the middle of the bus. Yagyuu grabs the one just ahead of him. His cellphone is still flipped out.
Yagyuu raises his eyebrows. His thumb hovers over a key. "Will you come?" he asks.
Niou makes a face. The bus swerves around a corner and he shifts his weight to keep his balance. Yagyuu's suitcase wheels into Niou's knee, bumping hard. Niou blows a raspberry and glances toward the window. The green blind has been drawn, but he can make out the distinct tricolour glow of a Familymart sign.
Yagyuu's suitcase is heavy against his leg, pressing plastic and making Niou's leg sweat.
Finally, Niou mutters under his breath. "Fine."
***
It's weird being home, opening the gate, walking up the pathway, seeing the Golf in the driveway and knowing his family is home. Niou doesn't think two days with Yagyuu would have changed him, but thinking about all that's happened, trying to force himself to walk casually, as though he doesn't have bruises on his chest or sore muscles is hard. His face burns and Niou can't make it go away. It might be easier if the sun had set. As it is, it hangs low in the west, orange and comfortable as Niou's shadow paints the doorway. Without the cover of darkness he's totally exposed.
I'm home, he thinks. The door groans and his bags hit the floor with a thud. Niou sucks in a breath. Shuffled footsteps-his mom-and then her face breaks into a smile when she sees him.
"How was your tennis camp?"
"Fine," Niou mumbles. He tries to duck past her. She blocks him, like she's intentionally trying to stop him in order to grill Niou with questions.
"What did you eat?"
"How was Yamanashi?"
"Did you do any hiking?"
"Did you play lots of tennis?"
She's got Niou trapped. He tries to dodge her other side and run upstairs. He tries to dart around her, but she keeps smiling, waiting for an answer as Niou's blush deepens. His stomach is in knots. Her glasses slip down her nose and her eyes search him over the frames, searching for the truth as Niou fears the worst.
That she knows.
His mouth is so dry, so woolen that even if he wanted, he couldn't answer her with anything more specific than a vague, "Fine. It was fine."
He checks his watch. Nearly six. Something sizzles in the kitchen. His mom has on her apron, crossed at the back and faded pink in the front. Her hair pulls out from the tie at the back. "Masaharu?"
"I'm going out," he says. Niou runs up four stairs in two steps. "Where's my…" he mutters the last word, hoping she won't hear, "jinbei?"
She does.
"Your jinbei?"
Damn you damn you damn you Yagyuu for saying you're wearing yours!
The blood drains from Niou's face, slithering down in a cold fever that makes him shiver. He purses his lips. "That," he says through his teeth.
"You haven't worn it in ages!" she says. She keeps blinking and staring at him, like Niou is different. Like he's not only had sex up the butt, but grown another head or two as well.
Niou pushes a shaking hand through his hair, ruffling and messing the limp, sweaty strands. "We're going to the park," he says. "Do I have one or not?" he snaps.
She frowns. "Don't be rude, Masaharu. You'll have to wear Dad's. If you had told me ahead of time, I could have looked for a new set for you."
Anger flushes in Niou's belly. He wants to shout that it wasn't his fault Yagyuu told him on the bus. It wasn't his fault Yagyuu had the bright idea to dress up for the fireworks. It wasn't his fault that he was even going. Everyone is. Yagyuu is.
Niou wants to, too.
Only, not to see the lame fireworks. That'll be boring. He just wants to be with Yagyuu, on their last night of freedom before tomorrow. And then the Nationals.
"I thought you didn't like to go see the fireworks?" his mom says.
Niou bristles. His mom's little smile sets him on edge and makes his scalp crawl, itchy and sweaty and he's glad to finally run past her and slam his bedroom door.
Too many questions.
Way too many questions
As soon as his mom knocks on Niou's door, with his father's set of jinbei, in boring blue print, Niou grabs them and shuts the door. He's got just enough time to rush to the station to meet Yagyuu, then to rush to the park to meet everyone else. At times like this, Niou almost wishes he was the laser beam, able to cut through time and space with a neon yellow streak.
Or in his case, a bleached one.
Niou ties the side of the top and wiggles. He checks his face out in the mirror and messes his bangs up, untangling the sweaty clump of hair. He tilts his head, checks the back and tightens his rat tail. He licks his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he can make out a pink mark on his neck. Niou thinks, Shit, and pats down a section of hair in a quick attempt to cover it.
All that matters is getting out of the house. The park will be dark. No one will notice his hickies then. Marui and Jackal will be too busy checking out the wonderchibi's sister, Kirihara will be too busy being grossed out, Sanada and Yukimura will be making mooneyes at each other and Yanagi will be taking shots of the fireworks with his cellphone. No one will care about Niou.
Except his mom.
Who is waiting on the other side of his bedroom door when he flings it open.
"Does it fit?" she asks.
Niou tries to run past her. She stops him with a clammy hand to his arm. She smoothes the front of the jinbei and clicks her tongue. "It doesn't look too bad," she says.
Niou leans left, ready to bolt. His heart slams into his ribs. His pulse quickens and rushes in his ears. His mother keeps touching the jinbei, picking at the sleeves and then frowning. "You should pull the shorts up before they fall down," she says.
Niou sighs and rolls his eyes. He hoists up the waist and glares at her, pointedly. "Better?"
She smiles and nods.
Niou runs down the stairs, taking them two, three at a time. He rummages through the closet, chucking out the first pair of sandals he finds. Old ones, last summer's, a bit too short and his baby toe hangs off the side, but they’ll do. He's got his hand on the door handle when the back of his neck bristles.
His mom holds out a thousand yen note. As Niou runs out the house, his flip-flops slapping the flagstone pavement, she calls out, "Have fun on your date!"
Niou is halfway to the bus stop, panting and sweaty in the dying light, when his mind finally processes what she said to him.
His jaw drops.
A shiver runs down his spine, hot and burning shame creeping up his throat along with the bitter bile from his stomach.
His watch beeps. Six thirty.
Niou takes a shuffling step forward on the sidewalk. Behind him, someone on a bike rings their bell. Niou doesn't move to the side. His arms hang limp and his knees are jelly.
She
Knows
"Niou-kun!"
His mind is playing tricks on him, pretending to be Yagyuu's voice. His mother's words sit heavy, forcing Niou into a death march toward the bus stop, slow and mournful as the twisting gnaw inside starts to consume him with frozen coils of realization.
She knows.
Niou wants to puke.
"Niou-kun!"
The traffic rushes down the street when the light changes. Niou takes another leaden step. He swallows hard and his head hangs. His chest is starting to cave into itself, aching and tight and-
"NIOU-KUN!"
A bike skids in front of Niou, stopping him dead in his tracks. Niou looks up, following the long line of hairy leg to the striped blue and grey jinbei shorst, bent knee on the bike pedal.
Niou blinks.
"Yagyuu?"
In three years he's known Yagyuu, not once has Niou seen him on a bike. Then again, Yagyuu usually has a tennisbag-and before that, a golf bag-to carry.
"This will be faster than the bus," Yagyuu says. Niou can feel Yagyuu's eyes on him, taking in the loose fit of his dad's jinbei, moving up, then down Niou's body, pupils dark and glowing in the soft gilded light that turns the rooftops of houses into liquid gold.
"Here," Yagyuu says. He scoots up closer to the front of his seat. He nods for Niou. The dying sun shifts, streaming across the traffic in a blinding beam, straight into Niou's face, burning and flushing his skin even hotter.
Niou swallows. His throat catches. He tries to take a breath and hop on, like nothing's happened, but his body is stiff. "My mom knows," Niou mumbles.
Yagyuu's body jerks forward. The air whips Niou's hair up, fluttering by as Yagyuu pedals hard and back and forth, side to side as he moves, arms stretched out, legs furiously pedaling. The bike leans to the side. Niou starts to slip, his body slackening in the moment for freefall and he catches himself, gasps and grabs onto Yagyuu in a fierce hold. Niou closes his eyes, face to Yagyuu's back. He can smell the soft floral of laundry detergent on the soft cotton jinbei. His hair keeps fluttering. The bike jerks and the chain spins, metallic and jingling as Yagyuu rides with the traffic, cutting past pedestrians left, right, constantly moving and jerking and shifting, moving and jerking and shifting Niou with him.
Yagyuu isn't listening.
"My. Mom. KNOWS!" Niou shouts.
Traffic light: red. The brakes screech as Yagyuu comes to a halt, tapping his foot on the pedal and leaning slightly right, onto his leg. Niou sets a foot onto the ground to steady himself. His stomach is empty, but an oniony belch from lunch in the train station surfaces, forcing its way out. Niou runs his tongue over the backs of his teeth. Residual onion taste cloys to his mouth, acrid with bile.
"My mom knows," Niou whispers. His knuckles crack as he holds Yagyuu's waist. Tight. Yagyuu's stomach moves as he breathes.
The light changes to green. The pedestrian crossing chirps. Engines rev and so does Yagyuu's bike. The rushing air is refreshing, but it does nothing to cool the harsh blush of shame on Niou's face.
Yagyuu pedals. He zips down another street, leaning right and turning sharp. He follows the signs to the station, in the direction of the harbour front park. At the first scent of fishiness in the air, Yagyuu says, "So? Your mom loves you."
Yagyuu's voice is nearly drowned out by the honk of horns and the constant stall and start of vehicles, the rushing scooters and snaking lines of traffic. It's rush hour. Yagyuu pedals harder. Fabric folds of Niou's jinbei rush and flap against his shins.
"What?" he shouts.
"Your mom won't care!" Yagyuu yells. His words are loud, but his tone is light.
They crash to a stop. Yagyuu walks his bike to the racks outside Motomachi station. The metal glimmers in the mauve light. To the east, the skyscrapers of MM21 glitter, their windows a wash of checkered yellow in the velvet sky.
Niou stuffs his hands into his pocket. He fingers the folds of the thousand yen bill, trying to remember just how his mother said it. But the bike ride here has dulled and changed her words, morphed them into the millions of other things she's said to him over the years: disappointment, frustration, occasional bemusement.
And all Niou can grasp is the vague feeling she was smiling at him as he ran out the door.
He shakes his head once. Yagyuu can't see-his back is turned as he locks his bike, rolling the combination around three times and assuming that no one will steal it. All it takes is a good ear to listen for the clicks. Niou could probably swipe the bike in five minutes, if he tried.
Instead, Niou sighs through his nostrils. "How can you know that?" he asks.
Yagyuu has the same, curving smile and it makes Niou catch his breath, surprised in the instant when Yagyuu grabs his hand and yanks. Yagyuu starts to run, pulling Niou with him. Yagyuu's sandals smack the pavement in perfect tune with Niou's, jumping over the cracks in the pavements as they run toward the chaos of the park.
At the traffic light, past a block of concrete office buildings and upscale boutiques, glowing yellow with posh mannequins of sequined dresses and glossy leather bags, cafes of smoking patrons with clinking glasses of alcohol, and dozens of people in clopping geta and cameras hung around their necks, Yagyuu stops. Niou stops. He doesn't need to catch his breath. A breeze comes off the water, salty and fresh. Niou breathes in, letting the cooler air drift over his heated skin.
"Niou-kun, you're not as secretive as you think," Yagyuu says. "You're a lot like your mother."
Niou nearly chokes, if it wasn't for the policeman directing traffic, waving them across the street with his flashing baton. Yagyuu tugs his hand again. Niou is forced to move. The park is roped off, the entrances obvious from the streams of people, all moving in one direction. Niou stays close to Yagyuu, stunned to silence by Yagyuu's words and unable to do anything other than follow.
It's a constricting, claustrophobic press of people, pushing and seething, swarming forward like a single living mass. Niou pushes and shoves back on them, earning glares from girls in pink yukatas and more from their boyfriends. Niou gets into the feeling of the mob. He smirks back at people and shoves some more. Niou flips his hair back-he can't even so much as squeeze his hand up to push his bangs from his eyes. One false move, and the masses will crush him; Yagyuu lost forever.
The squeeze of Yagyuu's fingers him tells Niou he's there, even with other heads in the way, trying to push between them. A row of food stalls recedes into the background, glowing yellow, steaming with sizzling squid and okonomiyaki crepes, fried chicken, thick and greasy in the air, beckoning Niou with a grumbling stomach. The harbour side is thickest with people, weaving around the trees to set down tarps and claim territory.
Niou looks left: a shaved ice stand and sparklers, hissing chemical-scented embers into the dusk. Niou looks right: the large sculpture of rusted, iron-red train carriages, arranged and stacked in something some pretentious snob might call "art".
Yagyuu's hand tightens. Niou scans the crowds.
And the first head he recognizes is pink and garish, next to a bald one, Jackal, in a yukata, waving an uchiwa in Marui's face.
Yagyuu shouts. Then he waves. At two feet, Kirihara finally notices and yells. "SENPAIS!"
In an instant Niou drops Yagyuu's hand. His eyes dart around. No one notices. He sighs, finally able to breathe as they step away from the crowds and into the crevices of the sculpture.
Yukimura elbows Niou with his fan. There's a camera hanging around his neck and he's red-faced, but smiling. Next to him, Sanada's in a yukata, constipated as ever, and Yanagi looming beyond that, checking his watch for the time.
Yukimura leans into Niou, his t-shirt brushing Niou's arm-so much for everyone else on the team dressing up. Marui's in a t-shirt too, and the wonderchibi has his tennis uniform on.
"You," Yukimura shouts above the crowd, "and Yagyuu are soooooo dead."
Niou pulls back, staring at Yukimura with wide eyes. How…?
With his fan-one of those freebies, handed out by freeters loitering around the edges of the park-Yukimura points to Yagyuu's arms.
Bare.
No wristweights.
Niou groans. "Puri." He tightens his jaw, waiting for Yukimura to go on, to punish him here and now as Sanada narrows his eyes, no cap to darken his scowling face tonight.
Instead, Yukimura throws his head back and laughs. "We'll worry about that tomorrow," he says. Niou can barely hear until Yukimura takes a deep, shuddering breath and raises his voice. "We have to get our spot soon!"
Niou looks back, to Yagyuu and Jackal. He raises his eyebrows.
Marui has a toothy grin as he rubs his fat paws together. "Akaya's sister is saving us a spot," he says.
Niou walks. Someone bumps his side. Then his other side. Kirihara has a hold on the hem of Yanagi's t-shirt, so Niou grabs onto the kid's arm.
"Akaya's sister and her boyfriend, you mean," Jackal adds.
Marui's pout brings a smile to Niou's face.
It's probably only a hundred metres or two, towards a group of stubby trees, but it seems to take forever-a hot, crowded, tight and choking forever, shuffling forward, one step at a time, moving achingly slow as the sun sets into finality and the harbour water gleams black at last.
Now, Niou can only make out the shadows of people. He sees the spot, he sees his teammates spread out across a tarp, held by some guy who looks suspiciously Sanada-like and a girl with crazy, seaweedy hair and a shrieking voice when she grabs Kirihara by the arm and shouts, "Mom said she'd KILL me if you got lost again, so STAY PUT!"
Niou snickers.
Kirihara's sister whips her head around and glares at Niou. Her eyes flash orange in the weak streetlamp light combining with the golden glow of food stands. "Do you have a PROBLEM?"
Niou slinks away. He bumps into Yagyuu, who slips off a sandal to step onto the tarp. "Food?" Niou asks.
Yagyuu pauses, then nods. "All right."
The shaved ice stand is a beacon-or rather, those sparklers are. Niou makes a beeline, not even in the mood to try to be vague and sneaky about it. That, and the stand is the closest to their spot, save for the squid sticks next stand over. Cutting through the crowd, all moving perpendicular, all searching for their own spots to camp out and catch the fireworks, is easier if Niou just barrels his way through, refusing to pause and wait for Yagyuu's 'excuse me' and 'sorry's.
Cola shaved ice. Topped with fruit and a cherry, condensed milk and a sparkler. The middle-aged woman dishes up Niou's shaved ice and she reaches for a sparkler.
"Could you do two of those?" Niou asks.
She looks up, repeating what Niou asked, as if she can’t understand the words.
"Yeah," Niou says. His face burns. He ignores it as best he can. Yagyuu waits at the edge of the stand, arms crossed over his chest, half illuminated, have shadowed by raking darkness.
"One for me, and one for my…friend," Niou says.
The woman smiles and nods. She lights two sparklers, which form a tight v at the top of his shaved ice. The cherry and pineapple slices slide down the sides. Condensation has already formed on the cup by the time Niou shuffles over to Yagyuu and nods.
With sparklers, it's a hell of a lot easier to cut through the snaking throng. The embers hiss and catch in the air. Yagyuu steps ahead of Niou and his face glows, warm and bright through the sparks.
At the edge of the tarps, Niou stops. He touches Yagyuu's side, just a brush, enough to catch his attention. In its dying gasps, Niou hands Yagyuu one of the sparklers, his own hand close enough to the burning metal that Niou can feel the heat searing his skin.
"Here," he says.
"Thank you," Yagyuu says. He smiles, bland and beautiful as his glasses start to slip down his face.
Niou smirks.
The first fireworks erupt in bangs and deafening hisses when Niou's sparkler has barely gone cold. He toes off his sandals and squeezes down onto the tarp, one knee in Kirihara's sister's back and the other in Sanada's. Sanada stiffens-and leaning on his shoulder, Yukimura adjusts his cheek.
Niou gags.
"Shut up, Niou," Yukimura says.
Niou closes his mouth and shuts up. Until the next round of exploding fireworks, bursting chrysanthemums of red chemicals in the air, lighting up the harbour in a dual round of blooms-one, in the air, the other, the reflection on the water.
At his side, Yagyuu moves. His lenses reflect the fireworks, too: brilliant blues and yellows, turning to green, round fireworks like blossoms, one hundred feet wide, followed by snaking rockets of gold and orange, exploding into a chaotic garden in the sky.
"Look at that," Yagyuu murmurs. His lips move. He nods up, to the sky, and Niou has to squint through the trees.
"What?" Niou asks.
"Did you see that one change colour?" Yagyuu asks. Another burst, another explosion, followed by a dozen pops and then boom! Golden yellow fireworks rimmed with red petals. Niou squints as the colour blurs.
"Didn't you see?" Yagyuu asks.
Niou looks at him.
Yagyuu tilts his head to the side. For a second, before he speaks, as the fireworks burst and explode in a cacophony of colour and noise, Yagyuu's face flickers with the colours, painting over his pointy nose and his dark eyes, his chin and his eyebrows, too. Niou thinks about the first time he saw Yagyuu, three years ago, when Yagyuu showed up to try out for tennis and he stumbled and was the complete personification of megane dork. Yagyuu still pushes up his glasses the same way now as he did then.
Only now, everything is different.
Only now, that megane dork's fingers are twining with Niou's, hidden by the shadows as he holds Niou's hand and asks,
"Do you need glasses, Niou-kun?"
***
His feet are frozen.
The ground is muddy and slippery. On the incline, the bare roots make him trip. He stumbles. He shivers and rubs his hands together. Two pairs of gloves and still the cold cuts through, sharp like the icicles dripping from the bridge at the bottom of the mountain.
He looks up and his glasses slip down his face. The rest of them are ahead, ten, twenty meters, their breath pluming white clouds in the air. The trees are black, skeletal and broken up by the soft fingers of purple light starting to form in the east. It's too early to be awake.
His father yells, "Come on, Masaharu!"
Niou purses his lips. He sighs. His breath puffs out and dissipates in front of him, frosting the scarf wrapped around his face. He takes a slow step forward and one of the megane dork group turns around and waves back at him. Then, the rest of them, lenses flashing and bland smiles mocking him from further up on the trail.
Yagyuu cups his mittens around his mouth. His cowlick sticks up at the back of his head, right behind the earmuffs: a prresent from Niou's megane dork mom.
"Hurry up, Niou-kun!" Yagyuu shouts. "The bells are about to start."
Niou grumbles under his breath, nonsensical "Puri" and "stupid family". He plods along, moving higher, moving closer, lungs tight and tickling his ribs with cold. Finally, the last step on the mountain and he's there, panting and numb feet, burrowing deeper into his wool coat as he shuffles up to Yagyuu and shoves his sister out of the way.
The view from here on the mountaintop is spectacular. The thin red line of dawn creeps up and the first bells of the new year start to peel.
He turns to Yagyuu, who smiles at him, eyes glowing and face flushed with sunrise.
Niou pushes up his glasses and smiles back.
~finis~