FIC: Bad Romance 2, YanaKiri, NC17, 5/6
Title: Bad Romance 2 (5/6)
Author: Ociwen
Summary: Defeat at Nationals does not subdue the demon.
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 41 000
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Written for the 2010 Tenipuri Big Bang. Big thanks to our team's beta, venivincere, for all the wonderful help and suggestions, and to our artist, aioyuzu for fantastic visuals. Also thanks to inarikami for translating the songs from The Final Match musical that helped inspire this. Happy Birthday, Yanagi!
This is the accompanying piece to Bad Romance 1
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]
He wakes to the sound of his cellphone alarm. His pajama pants are damp. Yanagi swings his legs over the edge of his mattress with a sigh. He searches his mind for hints of the dream. Instead, he remembers the storm last night. He remembers the hitch in Kirihara's voice when he sobbed something. He remembers the silence as they ate ramen after. There is a new message from Sadaharu on his phone. Yanagi opens it: more information about Tezuka. He flips his phone closed and rolls his eyes.
He should phone Sadaharu back, but he won't be awake yet. The sun settles over the street level. The crows are awake and cawing from apartment balconies. In the shower, Yanagi lets his hands slide down to his dick. He closes his eyes as he rubs his balls. Last night, Kirihara's hands were there instead of his. He'd forgotten how good it felt. He'd forgotten the milky taste in the back of Kirihara's mouth. He'd forgotten the smoothness of Kirihara's stomach. He'd forgotten how it felt to invade a person in the most intimate way, and to be invaded. The steam rises in the shower room. Yanagi presses his back to the tile wall. He bites his lip when he comes.
The newspaper waits on the table for him. Yanagi shovels his breakfast down quickly. His eyes drift over the headlines: more government budget talks, more global recession statistics, and Roger Federer is tipped to win the Roland Garros next month.
At the bus stop at the end of the road, Kirihara waits. He stifles a yawn. He scuffs his sneakers and sips on a carton of milk. Yanagi takes a deep breath. He turns to the direction of the train station. Kirihara wouldn't know. But he clears his throat, and Kirihara turns around. His eyes widen. Yanagi can see the heavy bags underneath them.
"Morning," Kirihara mumbles. His cheeks are pink. Yanagi nods. His face feels warm, too. Tree branches and leaves litter the curbs along the road as reminders from the storm. The air smells clean. The last puddles are drying up. A bus pulls up to the stop. Kirihara steps toward it, until he looks back to see Yanagi doesn't move. Kirihara laughs a little. He ducks his head down and walks back to Yanagi.
"What bus goes to the technical school?" he asks.
Yanagi stiffens. The light shifts, and a stream of warm sunlight hits his face. He narrows his eyes.
"Niou-senpai told me," Kirihara says. "When I asked him yesterday."
Yanagi nods once. He doesn't blink, not until Kirihara pushes into his side and says hey. "I thought you went to the academic high school with buchou and them."
Yanagi doesn't respond. The corners of his mouth twitch. Kirihara nods. He rocks back on his ankles and stuffs his hand into his pocket. With the other, he crumples up the milk carton and chucks it in the vague direction of a garbage bin. The carton glances off the bin rim and lands on the sidewalk.
"Don't sign up for the basketball team," Yanagi mutters.
Kirihara laughs. The corners of his eyes crinkle up, and the sound sends a pleasant tingle between Yanagi's legs that, for once, he doesn't really mind.
***
The grass is soggy. Wetness seeps in through Yanagi's pants as soon as he sits down. He frowns-he left his blazer in the classroom. The plastic bento box from the cafeteria crinkles when he pulls it from his bag. The container is a little crushed at the one end. Mayonnaise oozes onto the rice. Yanagi breaks the wooden chopsticks apart and starts to push the macaroni salad to the edge.
"You haven't eaten with us in a while," Yukimura says. He looks at Sanada. "Ne, Genichirou?"
Sanada looks up from his homemade bento to nod. He dives back into his congealed vegetables without saying a word.
Yanagi has his back to the high schools. He looks across the campus, past the basketball courts. Students stream out from the junior high building. The sun heats up the top of Yanagi's hair. He squints, but there are too many identical uniforms to tell anyone apart at this distance.
"Not planting anything?" he asks Yukimura. Yukimura finishes a bite with a belch. He says no, they did that this morning to avoid watering.
"Conserving water and all," he adds.
"Of course," Yanagi says. He looks up again. A figure with a distinctive gait-almost, but not quite a swagger, but fast and purposeful until he trips over his feet-crosses the basketball courts. A couple junior high students playing a game shout at him to watch where he's going, they're playing. Kirihara shouts back that they can shut up. He flashes them a finger and turns. His mouth parts when his eyes meet Yanagi's. Kirihara runs up to them and plunks himself between Yukimura and Yanagi. Yanagi can smell Kirihara's sweat and deodorant. It settles in his chest. He closes his eyes and inhales a second time, just for an instant.
Sanada lifts his head. His lip curls a little at Kirihara. He gives Yanagi a look. Yanagi raises his eyebrows right back at Sanada. Kirihara starts to talk about nothing: his useless English class, the stupid math test next week, and hey, look, I got two pieces of salmon in my lunch! He holds his bento up at an angle to show it off. Yanagi opens his mouth, but stops himself. One of the pieces of fish slides out of the bento and onto the grass.
"Aw, shit," Kirihara says. He snaps the fish up with his chopsticks and stuffs it in his mouth. Fish sprays from his mouth. "Ten second rule."
"Tarundoru," Sanada mutters. "You're in a good mood."
Yanagi stops chewing on his mouthful of rice. Kirihara shifts his eyes. His cheeks spot with colour. He laughs shrilly and rubs the back of his neck. "Eheh…no more than usual?" he says.
Yanagi swallows his bite. Sanada gives him a sideways glance.
I don't want to know.
Then Sanada shrugs and goes back to his bento. Yagyuu walks down from the slight crest of the hill and lifts his hand. He sets his blazer down on the grass, then sits on it.
"Where's Niou?" Yanagi asks.
Yagyuu blinks. "Ah, Niou-kun said he had homework to do."
Yanagi purses his lips. He snorts under his breath. "You're not with him?" Next to Yanagi, Kirihara crosses his legs the other way around. He wiggles and reaches for a PET bottle of Calpis. He brushes Yanagi's knee with his elbow. Yukimura talks about flowers and iris bulbs. After a moment, Yagyuu shakes his head. He holds up a novel. "I am looking forward to this," he says.
Yanagi says of course. He prods around his bento for the pieces of cold, fried tofu. His eyes drift to the rooftop of the academic high school, but he says nothing. Just before the class bell, Marui and Jackal approach with plastic bags from Familymart in hand. Marui tosses KitKats at all of them. Yanagi catches a matcha flavoured bar against his chest. Sanada's bounces off his arm.
"Wasabi?" He snorts. "Gross!" Sanada whips it back at Marui. It hits Kirihara on the side of the head.
"Ow!" he shrieks. Kirihara hurls the KitKat back at Sanada, straight to the middle of his chest.
Jackal steps between them to catch the bar on the rebound bounce off Sanada. "Your loss," he says. He unwraps the KitKat and breaks off two bars. "Yum! I feel like a winner already!"
"Except you're not a regular this year, senpai, so you don't get to play," Kirihara says. He laughs. Jackal shakes his head slowly. He cracks his knuckles against his palm.
"Don't tempt me, Akaya," he says.
Kirihara grins.
Jackal's hand falls to his side. Kirihara's smile widens.
The bell for classes rings. They all stand up, even Kirihara, whose lunch isn't over for another twenty minutes. Marui and Jackal walk back to the technical building together. Yagyuu and Yukimura leave for the opposite direction. Sanada stuffs his bento box in his bag and looks at Yanagi. His nostrils flare as he breathes. Kirihara rips at the label on his PET bottle. He chews on his lip. He blows into his PET bottle to make hollow sounds. Yanagi piles up the plastic lid and bottom of his bento box with wrappers and a used wet wipe.
"I'll meet you at the gym," he tells Sanada.
With a twist of his lips, Sanada shakes his lips. As soon as his back is turned, Kirihara sidles closer to Yanagi.
"Ne," he says. He looks around before he steps closer still. Yanagi stiffens. Kirihara's body radiates heat. The air stirs the hair falling over his ears. Hidden behind his collar, Yanagi can see the top of a bruise. He swallows. He remembers the salty taste of Kirihara's neck.
"My parents are gonna be gone next weekend," he says. His chest rises and falls when he pauses. His eyes flicker down to Yanagi's mouth. Yanagi's stomach twists with heat. His dick is stiffening as the words sink in.
Kirihara sucks on his bottom lip for a moment. "Senpai."
The second warming bell for classes rings. Yanagi snaps his eyes open wide. He sucks in a breath through his nose, and nods good bye.
Sanada is waiting for him at the entrance door to the gym. He takes his cap off to bend the brim, then he pulls it back on. They walk into the gym together.
"What did Akaya want?" Sanada asks.
"Do you want to know?" Yanagi asks him right back.
Sanada says not really.
"English help," Yanagi says.
***
Niou gets on to the bus ahead of Yanagi. He slides into the last empty two-seater. Yanagi looks around. Students claim the last free seats, until he is the only one left standing. The seat beside Niou is empty.
The bus pulls into gear. Yanagi grabs the handle of the back of the seat in front of Niou. Reluctantly, he sits down next to Niou, but he looks ahead. Niou looks out the window. A pachinko parlour flashes by, followed by an expanse of grey paved parking lots and a block of offices.
Neither of them speaks. The bus turns a corner, pulling Yanagi toward Niou. Their legs brush. Yanagi shifts back to the edge of his seat. Niou starts to turn, but then he looks back out the window. He drums his fingers along the window latch. The noise is irritating. Yanagi won't rise to say it, though.
At the first stop past the petrol station, next to the Royal Host and a manga café, half the students get off the bus. Niou plays with his rat tail.
Finally, Yanagi says, "Why did you tell him?"
The drumming stops. Niou doesn't turn around. He speaks to the reflection of Yanagi in the window. His eyes are hard, and his lips are thin. "He asked me."
If he were Sanada, Yanagi might punch Niou in the jaw. Anger bubbles up, acrid and hot in his throat. Still, he sits and keeps still. No one on the bus turns to look at them. A couple of girls sleep, folded onto each other.
Yanagi scowls. He turns, and narrows his eyes as thin as they'll go. Niou shrugs and fakes a yawn. He stretches his arms high above his head. The smell of teenage boy hangs off him. "What's the big deal?" Niou asks.
Through his teeth, Yanagi starts to say, "I asked you not to-"
"The kid wanted to know." Niou shakes his head with a snort. He starts to laugh, and roll his eyes. "You think that things are gonna change, because you're trying to be friends with him again?"
Yanagi's mouth won't close.
"You can't fucking change the past!" Niou hisses. "What's done is done!"
"What do you know?" Yanagi asks. His voice is cold and foreign to his ears. His hands shake on his knees. He's breathing hard. Niou keeps prodding.
"You're waiting for him to forgive you for that," Niou says.
Yanagi can't breathe.
"You were the one who wanted to make sure you'd play him again, to prove that you were better. You were the one who wanted to play doubles with Kirihara. You were the one who told Yukimura it was doubles, or nothing."
Niou looks at Yanagi. He lifts his head, looks down his nose, and Yanagi shrinks in his seat. He's two feet tall and Niou is ten feet above him. People move on the bus past him. Everything except Niou's sneer is a rush of bleeding colours, and dulled voices, like the sounds of the stands that day at the stadium as he looked down onto the other side of the net to see Sadaharu, lying in the dust, covered in blood.
"Don't blame him," Niou says. The words hang between them. Niou fumbles around for his school bag. Yanagi closes his eyes. They hurt. His chest hurts. He swallows hard, but the bile still stings.
The next bus stop is announced. Niou shoves against Yanagi, wordless. Yanagi stands up to let Niou out. Then he grabs Niou's arm.
"Why did you really tell him?"
There is a long silence. The bus doors open with a hiss, and the movement of students. People step onto the bus, pushing past Niou to get to the back seats. In a small voice, Niou says, "Because I know how he feels."
Yanagi stands there. Niou hops down the stairs to exit. He looks back toward Yanagi as the door closes on him.
"You may know a lot of data, but you know shit about lo-"
The bus pulls away. Yanagi won't look at Niou, who disappears behind a line of traffic as the bus drives on.
***
"Renji."
"Sadaharu."
"It's Wednesday. Do you want to play a game?"
Yanagi swivels around in his desk chair. He looks out the window. Futons hang from the balcony railings of the apartments across the road. He cups his palm around the green tea. The mug is tepid. Sadaharu asks if he's still there.
"I'm busy," Yanagi says.
"With what?"
Yanagi sighs. "Math homework."
"Tomorrow, after your practice."
"We'll see."
"That is an eighty percent chance, then."
From the other end of the line, Sadaharu can't see him frown. "We'll see," he says a second time. Yanagi hangs up. He takes a sip of his tea, and swivels the chair back to his desk. He dumps the rest of the tea down the bathroom sink. His mom sticks her head through the doorway and smiles. "Dinner."
Yanagi nods. He shoves the mug into her hands, and follows her into the main room. His father already sits at the end of the table with a plate of food. Yanagi slides into his seat. His mom serves him rice. "Izumi phoned this afternoon," she says.
Yanagi nods. He doesn't look up from his rice bowl. His father nods, too.
"She wants to take Sasuke to Disneyworld on Saturday," she says. She smoothes the front of her apron before she sits down next to Yanagi. "It sounds like Genichirou might go, too."
Yanagi sets his rice bowl down. The corners of his mouth curve a little. He doesn't say anything. His mother keeps talking about Izumi, how nice it will be this weekend, they're predicting sun and warm temperatures, it'll be so nice to see Sasuke, he's getting so big! Yanagi eats the grilled fish, and then the pickles. His mom's food sits on her plate, untouched, as she smiles and keeps going.
After dinner, Yanagi grabs his tennis bag. He pulls his sneakers on. His mother pops out of the kitchen. She wrings her hands on a tea towel.
"I'll be back later," he says.
He stops outside the lobby of the building. From one pocket, he turns off his cellphone. From the other, Yanagi pulls a wad of coins and drops them into the vending machine. The Pepsi is out. So are the Aquarius choices. He settles on water, and stuffs the bottle into his bag. The street is empty of people and littered with shadows and the soft rustle of wrappers in the breeze. It rifles through Yanagi's hair. He thinks of Kirihara's fingers over his scalp, instead. Yanagi shivers.
Two blocks down the road, and kitty-corner across an intersection there is a small park. The flood lights are on. Yanagi walks past the sushi shop on the corner. The red lantern sways. Inside, Yanagi can see a couple old men nursing sake cups. Niou might slip in through the sliding door to try to join them. Yanagi frowns. Niou makes something hot rise up in his chest. Yanagi clenches his jaw. The heat spreads down through his arms, and into his balled fists, too.
When he crosses the road, the swoosh and pong of balls echoes. Yanagi walks a little closer to peer through heavy bushes. Junior high-sized students run across the one court: a doubles match. The pair closest to him both run for the shot to the baseline. "You idiot!" the baseliner shouts. The net player throws his racket up and says his partner missed the last three baseline volleys anyway. Yanagi shakes his head.
Five blocks west are another set of street courts. This time, they are empty. Yanagi sets his bag down on the bench. His shadow is stretched out long and lean across the green pavement. Without prying eyes, he stretches his calves in lunges. He runs around the courts five times to loosen his muscles. He swings his arms in circles without, and then with his racket. Yanagi sets his racket down and reaches for his toes. The strain in the back of his knees is satisfying the longer he holds the position. A faint breeze licks at the sides of his neck. There is a crescent moon hanging in the sky. It's the sort of night that Basho would write about frogs croaking for lovers and willows sighing rather than the crunch of pavement under sneakers, or the thwop of a tennis ball against the ground.
Yanagi tightens his grip on the ball. The felt is warm and soft in his hand. He should have brought the newer canister, but he left that in the clubhouse. He throws the ball up and rocks back on his heel. He slams a ball against the cement wall. It ricochets straight and hard back at him. Yanagi takes a half-step to the right. The ball hits his racket too high. He bares his teeth as he twists his wrist to bring the ball under control toward the sweet spot. His muscles strain as the ball pushes back. Yanagi narrows his eyes. He pushes his arm that much more. The ball veers off his racket, five degrees wrong of an angle.
He goes through the canister, then he collects the balls from the far corners of the courts. Sweat slides down the sides of his face as he leans down to pick the balls up. Behind the cement wall and a veil of dark trees, the traffic rushes by. There are movements through the trees: small rustles and the pad of rubber soles. Yanagi reaches for his sweat towel. When he pushes it back from his face, Kirihara is standing in front of him.
Yanagi holds the towel tight. He says nothing. Kirihara follows him to the bench. He's brought his tennis bag with him, which he sets down next to Yanagi's. "I called your house," he says, "since you didn't pick up your cellphone."
Kirihara swings his legs. They're longer this year. His heels scuff the pavement now. "Your mom said you were out playing tennis, but you weren't at the courts by your place, so I figured this one." He laughs a little. He runs his tongue along his bottom teeth. Yanagi's eyes flick to Kirihara's thighs. Then he stops himself and grabs his water bottle.
"It's the only other courts I know near your place," Kirihara says.
Yanagi takes a sip of the water. It drips at the corners of his mouth, which he wipes away with the back of his hand. Kirihara watches him. His legs stop swinging. He leans closer. Blood rushes to Yanagi's head. His vision swims.
Then Kirihara holds out a bottle of Aquarius. "You like this stuff, right?" His words are thick. Yanagi's head is heavy. He manages a nod.
As Kirihara hands him the bottle, their fingers touch. Electricity races up Yanagi's spine. He stiffens. Blood rushes between his legs, too. His dick hardens. It hardens even more as Kirihara leans across Yanagi's lap. The bottle hits the ground with a thump. Kirihara's breath is hot. Yanagi can smell the mineraly sweetness of the sports drink on Kirihara's lips. That seaweed hair brushes the side of Yanagi's jaw. His dick throbs and he tries to shift on the bench.
Kirihara whispers his name. His lips are feather light in the moment they brush Yanagi's chin-missing their mark.
Yanagi turns away. His chin burns. Kirihara stretches over his lap again, but Yanagi pushes him off. "Not here," he says. Kirihara sticks out his bottom lip. Yanagi pushes harder. "Not. Here."
One of the flood lights start to flicker. Kirihara stands up. With a loud hiss, the light shuts off. Half the court darkens, and so does Kirihara's face. Yanagi leans back against the wooden slats of the bench. He looks away from Kirihara, into the dark trees instead. Yanagi can hear the soft sounds of Kirihara breathing above the hum of insects flitting over their heads.
He sucks in a breath. "Akaya…"
There is a flash of Kirihara's teeth. He sneers. Yanagi swallows. A lump thickens in his throat. His palms feel clammy. He's still hard, and the ache intensifies as he stands up. His shorts and underpants shift over the hypersensitive skin. For a second, Yanagi closes his eyes. He says Kirihara's name again. I'm sorry. Not here.
"Niou…" Yanagi purses his lips. He thinks over the words. "He knows."
Kirihara rolls his eyes. He walks around in a little circle around Yanagi. Then he flops down onto the bench, right where Yanagi was. Kirihara stretches his arms along the back. His legs aren't the only parts of his body that have grown recently. "Yeah, well…I know stuff about him, too!"
Yanagi raises his eyebrows.
The side of Kirihara's mouth curls into a smirk. Yanagi's insides are feverish. His erection burns. He wants to grab Kirihara's hands and push him down into the bench slats. He wants to wipe that smirk from Kirihara's lips. He wants to watch that smirk widen into a rounded gasp when he bites the side of Kirihara's shoulder, in the soft spot that makes him mewl. Yanagi flushes all over. His legs seem to shake under his body. He walks around to keep himself steady, and to increase the distance between them.
There is still a ball in the far corner of the courts. The yellow is dimmed by the shadows. It sits wedged under the chain link fence near a rustling empty chip bag. Yanagi walks over to it. Footsteps follow him. He keeps his back turned as he squats down to pick the ball up. As his hands close over the soft felt, another hand digs into his shoulder.
"Senpai!" Kirihara hisses. He grabs at Yanagi's hair. The ball drops from Yanagi's hands. He twists his hands around Kirihara's arm. Kirihara growls and pushes down. Yanagi falls back from his squat onto the ground. Dust plumes around them, and insects too. Kirihara says something in the back of his throat. Then he is on top of Yanagi. He's heavy and hard and kissing Yanagi. Teeth clack. His fingers dig into the back of Yanagi's neck. Pain flares up and Yanagi jerks his head, an automatic response. His body responds to Kirihara, too-Kirihara rubs his own erection on Yanagi's thigh. Their clothing rustles. Kirihara's kissing gets faster and sloppier. Yanagi kisses back to keep up. A hand slides between their bodies. It cups his erection. Rough fingertips slip under his waistband. They crawl down Yanagi's stomach. He's numb and shuddering and his own hand slides under Kirihara's t-shirt, where his skin is hot and dry and his muscles shift.
Those fingers wiggle down to Yanagi's dick. He snaps his eyes open. His body stiffens.
He shoves Kirihara away. Kirihara doesn't budge, but he does pull back from Yanagi's mouth. His eyes are bloodshot. His hair is a mess. Yanagi's heart pounds in his chest. His blood pounds between his legs, too. Kirihara squeezes his hand around Yanagi's dick. Yanagi bites his lip on a moan, and he pushes harder on Kirihara. His arms feel heavy and his legs are leaden. It takes all his strength to not give in to the rush of sensation as Kirihara strokes him.
"Akaya, get off!"
He pushes a third time. Kirihara pulls his hand out from Yanagi's track pants. He stumbles backwards to his feet. He's still hard. So is Yanagi. Through the trees, the traffic lights change and the purr of engines start again.
"You're not the only one who'd get caught!" Kirihara says. He sniffles, and turns away for a moment. He fumbles with his eye. Yanagi just frowns. He walks back toward the bench, and his tennis bag. Halfway there, he realizes the ball is sitting under the fence, right where he left it. His shoulders tense.
He turns to see Kirihara at the net, with the ball in his hand. His mouth is set in a line. His chest rises and falls with a steady pace. His eyes are focused on Yanagi, and he doesn't look away. Kirihara looks older than the screaming brat Yanagi played tennis with last year.
"Play a game with me, at least," Kirihara says. His voice cracks a little. His nervous little laugh doesn't change.
Yanagi's shoulders loosen up as he grabs his tennis racket, and says, "One set match."
***
"The bath is still ready, but it might be a little cold," his mom says.
Yanagi walks past her. "That's fine," he says.
He peels the sweat-sticky clothes, and chucks them into a pile by the doorway. His dick is so swollen he can't look down. He starts the shower and grabs his cock-fast and frantic with his hand until he's bent over and gasping under the spray of water. He leans against the wall. His feet slide along the tiled floor. His legs are boneless. The nerves of his dick throb and his fingers tingle. Yanagi closes his eyes. With a sigh, he remembers the feeling of Kirihara's fingers under his waistband instead of his own. His insides are empty, unsatisfied. He turns off the shower and sinks into the tepid bathwater. Outside the bathroom, there is a click as the hallway light is turned off. Yanagi grabs his knees. He presses his jaw to the top of them. Water laps at his chin. Kirihara did too, earlier, until Yanagi pushed him off.
My parents are going away to Gumma this weekend. We'd be alone…
Yanagi dunks his face into the water. Kirihara's words echo in his ears. He was red-faced and his t-shirt was dark with sweat after their game. Yanagi won. Kirihara cursed and kicked at the net, but on the bench, they sat in silence. The moon glowed against the clouds in the sky. Kirihara offered Yanagi his Aquarius again. He didn't ask, he told Yanagi with a flicker of something in his eyes. Yanagi was so hard, he couldn't answer. No, he could have said. I'm busy. I have homework.
His bones ache, even now. He slips under the cool sheets of his bed. He reaches his toes to the end of the mattress, until they dangle out, then he brings them back under the sheets. His eyes are heavy. But his pulse races. So does his mind. He reaches across to the bed side table for his cellphone. There's a missed call from Sanada-he'd be in bed now. There's a message from Sadaharu. Yanagi's ribs creak as he opens it.
We could play a match this weekend before the prefectural rounds begin in 2 weeks.
…My parents are going away to Gumma…
Yanagi flips his phone closed. He takes a deep breath, but his chest is tight. He listens to his pulse in his ears, and the sounds of his sighs as the apartment creaks in the darkness. He flops onto his side and slides his arm under the pillow. His leg twitches. His knee throbs and his toes crack when he stretches them out. Yanagi sighs. He turns onto the other side, but the sheets are too warm here.
He stays awake until the first crows start to caw, just before dawn. He looks at the time on the glowing LCD screen of his cellphone and thinks I have to wake up in an hour and a half for practice. Then, he closes his eyes, and finally sleeps.
***
"Did your mother tell you?"
Yanagi nods. They round the corner of the net. Their sneakers slap the ground in tandem.
"And?" Sanada asks. His breathing is loud. "He wants you to come?"
Yanagi snorts a laugh. "Not just you, Oji-"
"Shut up!"
Yanagi stumbles. He lands on his shins. Players skirt around him, darting out of the way just in time. Sanada runs ahead until the next corner, then he looks back with a crease in his forehead. Yanagi stands up. He brushes the biggest pieces of gravel from his legs. His eyes are crusted in the corners, and his limbs are sluggish as he starts to catch up. Sanada has slowed down until their paces match again.
"Renji?"
"I'm fine," Yanagi says. His face burns. So do the muscles between his ribs. They finish the set of laps, and meet Yukimura by the ball machines.
Yukimura pokes Yanagi in the side. "You look like shit."
Yanagi says hn.
"Growth spurt again?" Yukimura asks. He stretches his arms above his head. The armpits of his uniform t-shirt are stained dark, and he smells rank with sweat. Yanagi turns to the side a bit to cough.
"I grew two cm last month," Yukimura says. "If you've bothered to notice."
"I have your stats," Yanagi says. He taps his forehead.
"Well, what I'm saying is that we have to adjust our forms constantly at our age," Yukimura says. "Except Genichirou, who is doomed to 181 forever."
Sanada rolls his eyes. Yukimura laughs and prods him in the bicep.
Out of the corner of his eye, something streaks across the campus grounds from the direction of the north gate. All three of them look up as the person runs fast over the grass-he runs past the tennis courts toward the junior high school with a massive tennis bag strapped to his back, slamming against his back. Yukimura smiles. Sanada looks at Yanagi. They share a shake of their heads. Yanagi checks his watch. He tries not to think about the heat deep in his belly, or between his legs.
"Akaya is a half hour late."
"You were a fool to let him be captain, Yukimura," Sanada says.
Yukimura prods Sanada in the other arm. Sanada crosses his arms over his chest.
Yukimura lifts his chin up high. A hint of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "He'll learn."
***
"Renji."
"Hn?"
"You have not responded to the message I sent 2 hours and 43 minutes ago. Are you distracted?"
"Maybe I pay more attention to my tennis practices than you do."
Sadaharu laughs on the other end. Yanagi can hear him pause-he's pushing up his glasses. He does that when he thinks something over. "That is incorrect," he says. "I was practicing with Kaidoh last night until 9:30."
"Kaidoh…" Yanagi laughs under his breath, too. "You're close to him."
"With Tezuka in Germany, Kaidoh needs the assistance of his senpais as captain."
Yanagi thinks about Kirihara racing across the campus this morning. He shot Yanagi a look at lunch: he held Yanagi's gaze with a steady stare until Yanagi looked down at his book. There was a new message on his cellphone after gym class, a reminder about his parents being gone this weekend. Sanada walked up to him and asked why his face was flushed when Yanagi snapped his cellphone shut.
Sadaharu starts to talk about Tezuka. Yanagi picks his pencil up and goes over the number 4 in his Sudoku game. He traces the lines back and forth, up and down. Sadaharu drones on about German regimens, and the temperature in Stuttgart. He says that he bought a Learn to Speak German book, but the sounds are awkward for a Japanese person. How does Tezuka get by? I don't really care, Yanagi thinks. He moves to the next square and traces over a number 2. The numbers don't match up, so he scratches it out, and moves the 2 to a free box in the upper right corner.
"…Tezuka did not return my email on Tuesday. The time difference is 8 hours. He should have time to respond in the evenings. I estimate his free time hours to be between-"
"Sadaharu?"
"-one and a half…ah, Renji. Yes?"
"Maybe Tezuka has a girlfriend."
There is a long pause. Yanagi sets his pencil down. He bites down a chuckle as Sadaharu makes small, puzzled noises in the back of his throat.
"I have not considered that possibility before."
"Maybe he just didn't feel like responding."
"I did not consider that, either." There are voices in the background. And the muffled sound of the phone being pressed to a palm. Then Sadaharu says, "Renji, I am being summoned for dinner."
"We'll resume the call-"
"Tomorrow. At six."
Yanagi agrees. He presses end, and sets it on his desk beside the Sudoku book. He grabs a novel from the shelf above his desk, then he flops onto his bed with it. The window is open a slim crack and air filters through the curtains in waves. It ruffles the pages of his book as he finds his place.
Tomorrow. Friday.
My parents are gone this weekend.
Yanagi flips over onto his back. He sets the book on his chest, pushing the spine down to his ribs. His heart pounds against the pages. The breeze shifts to drift across his face. Kirihara's lips did that the other night, and Yanagi pushed him away. He reaches for his dick and cups it through his pants. He looks to the doorway-closed, but the sounds of the tv and his mother in the kitchen don't drown out his sigh he makes when he rolls back onto his stomach. He picks the novel up. Yanagi stares at the page. He can't remember what he read last night. He thinks about Sadaharu. He thinks about Kirihara, too.
His racket sits propped up in the corner, between his desk and the doorway. The grip tape has changed three times over since the Nationals, but when Yanagi wraps his hand around it, he can still smell the blood from the courts at Odaiba.
***
There isn't enough caffeine in his matcha latte before practice (bought with Sanada, in the Starbucks in the train station). The cake burns in the oven during home ec. Marui looks up from his cellphone that he was watching Pirates of the Caribbean on, and sniffs the air. He lets out a shriek and flies to the oven. Smoke plumes out as soon as he yanks the door open. The smoke detector starts to scream, too. The teacher yells for a baking sheet. Jackal runs with a tray to fan the detector before the smoke alarms in the rest of the school go off, too.
Marui does the honour of scraping the black contents of the cake pan into the garbage. Charred pieces clump on the spatula. Marui wipes it off on the side of the rubbish bin with a frown. "Didn't you set the timer, Yanagi?" he asks. He narrows his eyes. The spatula is in Yanagi's face.
Yanagi opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.
Marui shakes his head. "Figures the data man would forget the most important variable."
"Besides sugar," Jackal says.
Marui nods. "Besides sugar."
At lunch, Yanagi takes his lunch to the library. He sits between the stacks of world history books. Sunlight peaks through the rows of books and pools on the floor by his feet. He opens his book with a sigh. He picks at a fish ball. He plays with the cap on his PET bottle. He opens the novel again, and crosses his ankles the other way. A librarian pushes a book cart down the aisle. Yanagi stuffs the bento behind his book, and looks down at the page. As soon as the librarian passes, he looks up.
Someone whistles on the other side of the stack. The sunlight moves across his foot. The back of Yanagi's neck prickles. "Niou," he says.
Niou looks around the stack. He slips down and squats next to Yanagi. He's whistling a Disney theme song. His fingers flex. Yanagi moves his bento out of the way. Niou stops whistling. He rubs his mole on the right side of his chin.
"He wants to know where I am," Yanagi says.
Niou shrugs. "Probably."
Yanagi frowns. His hands are cold. The muscles of his face twitch.
"I didn't tell him you were here, by the way," Niou says. He stands up with a lazy stretch of his arms above his head.
"And Yagyuu?" Yanagi asks.
Niou's arms freeze for a half-second. He swings them down to his sides, and stuffs them into his pockets. Over his shoulder, he snorts at Yanagi. "What about Yagyuu?" He starts to whistle again, this time the Mission Impossible overture as he saunters away.
In gym class, Yanagi stops in the middle of warm up laps for soccer.
Niou's mole is on the other side of his chin.
***
Author: Ociwen
Summary: Defeat at Nationals does not subdue the demon.
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 41 000
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Written for the 2010 Tenipuri Big Bang. Big thanks to our team's beta, venivincere, for all the wonderful help and suggestions, and to our artist, aioyuzu for fantastic visuals. Also thanks to inarikami for translating the songs from The Final Match musical that helped inspire this. Happy Birthday, Yanagi!
This is the accompanying piece to Bad Romance 1
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]
He wakes to the sound of his cellphone alarm. His pajama pants are damp. Yanagi swings his legs over the edge of his mattress with a sigh. He searches his mind for hints of the dream. Instead, he remembers the storm last night. He remembers the hitch in Kirihara's voice when he sobbed something. He remembers the silence as they ate ramen after. There is a new message from Sadaharu on his phone. Yanagi opens it: more information about Tezuka. He flips his phone closed and rolls his eyes.
He should phone Sadaharu back, but he won't be awake yet. The sun settles over the street level. The crows are awake and cawing from apartment balconies. In the shower, Yanagi lets his hands slide down to his dick. He closes his eyes as he rubs his balls. Last night, Kirihara's hands were there instead of his. He'd forgotten how good it felt. He'd forgotten the milky taste in the back of Kirihara's mouth. He'd forgotten the smoothness of Kirihara's stomach. He'd forgotten how it felt to invade a person in the most intimate way, and to be invaded. The steam rises in the shower room. Yanagi presses his back to the tile wall. He bites his lip when he comes.
The newspaper waits on the table for him. Yanagi shovels his breakfast down quickly. His eyes drift over the headlines: more government budget talks, more global recession statistics, and Roger Federer is tipped to win the Roland Garros next month.
At the bus stop at the end of the road, Kirihara waits. He stifles a yawn. He scuffs his sneakers and sips on a carton of milk. Yanagi takes a deep breath. He turns to the direction of the train station. Kirihara wouldn't know. But he clears his throat, and Kirihara turns around. His eyes widen. Yanagi can see the heavy bags underneath them.
"Morning," Kirihara mumbles. His cheeks are pink. Yanagi nods. His face feels warm, too. Tree branches and leaves litter the curbs along the road as reminders from the storm. The air smells clean. The last puddles are drying up. A bus pulls up to the stop. Kirihara steps toward it, until he looks back to see Yanagi doesn't move. Kirihara laughs a little. He ducks his head down and walks back to Yanagi.
"What bus goes to the technical school?" he asks.
Yanagi stiffens. The light shifts, and a stream of warm sunlight hits his face. He narrows his eyes.
"Niou-senpai told me," Kirihara says. "When I asked him yesterday."
Yanagi nods once. He doesn't blink, not until Kirihara pushes into his side and says hey. "I thought you went to the academic high school with buchou and them."
Yanagi doesn't respond. The corners of his mouth twitch. Kirihara nods. He rocks back on his ankles and stuffs his hand into his pocket. With the other, he crumples up the milk carton and chucks it in the vague direction of a garbage bin. The carton glances off the bin rim and lands on the sidewalk.
"Don't sign up for the basketball team," Yanagi mutters.
Kirihara laughs. The corners of his eyes crinkle up, and the sound sends a pleasant tingle between Yanagi's legs that, for once, he doesn't really mind.
***
The grass is soggy. Wetness seeps in through Yanagi's pants as soon as he sits down. He frowns-he left his blazer in the classroom. The plastic bento box from the cafeteria crinkles when he pulls it from his bag. The container is a little crushed at the one end. Mayonnaise oozes onto the rice. Yanagi breaks the wooden chopsticks apart and starts to push the macaroni salad to the edge.
"You haven't eaten with us in a while," Yukimura says. He looks at Sanada. "Ne, Genichirou?"
Sanada looks up from his homemade bento to nod. He dives back into his congealed vegetables without saying a word.
Yanagi has his back to the high schools. He looks across the campus, past the basketball courts. Students stream out from the junior high building. The sun heats up the top of Yanagi's hair. He squints, but there are too many identical uniforms to tell anyone apart at this distance.
"Not planting anything?" he asks Yukimura. Yukimura finishes a bite with a belch. He says no, they did that this morning to avoid watering.
"Conserving water and all," he adds.
"Of course," Yanagi says. He looks up again. A figure with a distinctive gait-almost, but not quite a swagger, but fast and purposeful until he trips over his feet-crosses the basketball courts. A couple junior high students playing a game shout at him to watch where he's going, they're playing. Kirihara shouts back that they can shut up. He flashes them a finger and turns. His mouth parts when his eyes meet Yanagi's. Kirihara runs up to them and plunks himself between Yukimura and Yanagi. Yanagi can smell Kirihara's sweat and deodorant. It settles in his chest. He closes his eyes and inhales a second time, just for an instant.
Sanada lifts his head. His lip curls a little at Kirihara. He gives Yanagi a look. Yanagi raises his eyebrows right back at Sanada. Kirihara starts to talk about nothing: his useless English class, the stupid math test next week, and hey, look, I got two pieces of salmon in my lunch! He holds his bento up at an angle to show it off. Yanagi opens his mouth, but stops himself. One of the pieces of fish slides out of the bento and onto the grass.
"Aw, shit," Kirihara says. He snaps the fish up with his chopsticks and stuffs it in his mouth. Fish sprays from his mouth. "Ten second rule."
"Tarundoru," Sanada mutters. "You're in a good mood."
Yanagi stops chewing on his mouthful of rice. Kirihara shifts his eyes. His cheeks spot with colour. He laughs shrilly and rubs the back of his neck. "Eheh…no more than usual?" he says.
Yanagi swallows his bite. Sanada gives him a sideways glance.
I don't want to know.
Then Sanada shrugs and goes back to his bento. Yagyuu walks down from the slight crest of the hill and lifts his hand. He sets his blazer down on the grass, then sits on it.
"Where's Niou?" Yanagi asks.
Yagyuu blinks. "Ah, Niou-kun said he had homework to do."
Yanagi purses his lips. He snorts under his breath. "You're not with him?" Next to Yanagi, Kirihara crosses his legs the other way around. He wiggles and reaches for a PET bottle of Calpis. He brushes Yanagi's knee with his elbow. Yukimura talks about flowers and iris bulbs. After a moment, Yagyuu shakes his head. He holds up a novel. "I am looking forward to this," he says.
Yanagi says of course. He prods around his bento for the pieces of cold, fried tofu. His eyes drift to the rooftop of the academic high school, but he says nothing. Just before the class bell, Marui and Jackal approach with plastic bags from Familymart in hand. Marui tosses KitKats at all of them. Yanagi catches a matcha flavoured bar against his chest. Sanada's bounces off his arm.
"Wasabi?" He snorts. "Gross!" Sanada whips it back at Marui. It hits Kirihara on the side of the head.
"Ow!" he shrieks. Kirihara hurls the KitKat back at Sanada, straight to the middle of his chest.
Jackal steps between them to catch the bar on the rebound bounce off Sanada. "Your loss," he says. He unwraps the KitKat and breaks off two bars. "Yum! I feel like a winner already!"
"Except you're not a regular this year, senpai, so you don't get to play," Kirihara says. He laughs. Jackal shakes his head slowly. He cracks his knuckles against his palm.
"Don't tempt me, Akaya," he says.
Kirihara grins.
Jackal's hand falls to his side. Kirihara's smile widens.
The bell for classes rings. They all stand up, even Kirihara, whose lunch isn't over for another twenty minutes. Marui and Jackal walk back to the technical building together. Yagyuu and Yukimura leave for the opposite direction. Sanada stuffs his bento box in his bag and looks at Yanagi. His nostrils flare as he breathes. Kirihara rips at the label on his PET bottle. He chews on his lip. He blows into his PET bottle to make hollow sounds. Yanagi piles up the plastic lid and bottom of his bento box with wrappers and a used wet wipe.
"I'll meet you at the gym," he tells Sanada.
With a twist of his lips, Sanada shakes his lips. As soon as his back is turned, Kirihara sidles closer to Yanagi.
"Ne," he says. He looks around before he steps closer still. Yanagi stiffens. Kirihara's body radiates heat. The air stirs the hair falling over his ears. Hidden behind his collar, Yanagi can see the top of a bruise. He swallows. He remembers the salty taste of Kirihara's neck.
"My parents are gonna be gone next weekend," he says. His chest rises and falls when he pauses. His eyes flicker down to Yanagi's mouth. Yanagi's stomach twists with heat. His dick is stiffening as the words sink in.
Kirihara sucks on his bottom lip for a moment. "Senpai."
The second warming bell for classes rings. Yanagi snaps his eyes open wide. He sucks in a breath through his nose, and nods good bye.
Sanada is waiting for him at the entrance door to the gym. He takes his cap off to bend the brim, then he pulls it back on. They walk into the gym together.
"What did Akaya want?" Sanada asks.
"Do you want to know?" Yanagi asks him right back.
Sanada says not really.
"English help," Yanagi says.
***
Niou gets on to the bus ahead of Yanagi. He slides into the last empty two-seater. Yanagi looks around. Students claim the last free seats, until he is the only one left standing. The seat beside Niou is empty.
The bus pulls into gear. Yanagi grabs the handle of the back of the seat in front of Niou. Reluctantly, he sits down next to Niou, but he looks ahead. Niou looks out the window. A pachinko parlour flashes by, followed by an expanse of grey paved parking lots and a block of offices.
Neither of them speaks. The bus turns a corner, pulling Yanagi toward Niou. Their legs brush. Yanagi shifts back to the edge of his seat. Niou starts to turn, but then he looks back out the window. He drums his fingers along the window latch. The noise is irritating. Yanagi won't rise to say it, though.
At the first stop past the petrol station, next to the Royal Host and a manga café, half the students get off the bus. Niou plays with his rat tail.
Finally, Yanagi says, "Why did you tell him?"
The drumming stops. Niou doesn't turn around. He speaks to the reflection of Yanagi in the window. His eyes are hard, and his lips are thin. "He asked me."
If he were Sanada, Yanagi might punch Niou in the jaw. Anger bubbles up, acrid and hot in his throat. Still, he sits and keeps still. No one on the bus turns to look at them. A couple of girls sleep, folded onto each other.
Yanagi scowls. He turns, and narrows his eyes as thin as they'll go. Niou shrugs and fakes a yawn. He stretches his arms high above his head. The smell of teenage boy hangs off him. "What's the big deal?" Niou asks.
Through his teeth, Yanagi starts to say, "I asked you not to-"
"The kid wanted to know." Niou shakes his head with a snort. He starts to laugh, and roll his eyes. "You think that things are gonna change, because you're trying to be friends with him again?"
Yanagi's mouth won't close.
"You can't fucking change the past!" Niou hisses. "What's done is done!"
"What do you know?" Yanagi asks. His voice is cold and foreign to his ears. His hands shake on his knees. He's breathing hard. Niou keeps prodding.
"You're waiting for him to forgive you for that," Niou says.
Yanagi can't breathe.
"You were the one who wanted to make sure you'd play him again, to prove that you were better. You were the one who wanted to play doubles with Kirihara. You were the one who told Yukimura it was doubles, or nothing."
Niou looks at Yanagi. He lifts his head, looks down his nose, and Yanagi shrinks in his seat. He's two feet tall and Niou is ten feet above him. People move on the bus past him. Everything except Niou's sneer is a rush of bleeding colours, and dulled voices, like the sounds of the stands that day at the stadium as he looked down onto the other side of the net to see Sadaharu, lying in the dust, covered in blood.
"Don't blame him," Niou says. The words hang between them. Niou fumbles around for his school bag. Yanagi closes his eyes. They hurt. His chest hurts. He swallows hard, but the bile still stings.
The next bus stop is announced. Niou shoves against Yanagi, wordless. Yanagi stands up to let Niou out. Then he grabs Niou's arm.
"Why did you really tell him?"
There is a long silence. The bus doors open with a hiss, and the movement of students. People step onto the bus, pushing past Niou to get to the back seats. In a small voice, Niou says, "Because I know how he feels."
Yanagi stands there. Niou hops down the stairs to exit. He looks back toward Yanagi as the door closes on him.
"You may know a lot of data, but you know shit about lo-"
The bus pulls away. Yanagi won't look at Niou, who disappears behind a line of traffic as the bus drives on.
***
"Renji."
"Sadaharu."
"It's Wednesday. Do you want to play a game?"
Yanagi swivels around in his desk chair. He looks out the window. Futons hang from the balcony railings of the apartments across the road. He cups his palm around the green tea. The mug is tepid. Sadaharu asks if he's still there.
"I'm busy," Yanagi says.
"With what?"
Yanagi sighs. "Math homework."
"Tomorrow, after your practice."
"We'll see."
"That is an eighty percent chance, then."
From the other end of the line, Sadaharu can't see him frown. "We'll see," he says a second time. Yanagi hangs up. He takes a sip of his tea, and swivels the chair back to his desk. He dumps the rest of the tea down the bathroom sink. His mom sticks her head through the doorway and smiles. "Dinner."
Yanagi nods. He shoves the mug into her hands, and follows her into the main room. His father already sits at the end of the table with a plate of food. Yanagi slides into his seat. His mom serves him rice. "Izumi phoned this afternoon," she says.
Yanagi nods. He doesn't look up from his rice bowl. His father nods, too.
"She wants to take Sasuke to Disneyworld on Saturday," she says. She smoothes the front of her apron before she sits down next to Yanagi. "It sounds like Genichirou might go, too."
Yanagi sets his rice bowl down. The corners of his mouth curve a little. He doesn't say anything. His mother keeps talking about Izumi, how nice it will be this weekend, they're predicting sun and warm temperatures, it'll be so nice to see Sasuke, he's getting so big! Yanagi eats the grilled fish, and then the pickles. His mom's food sits on her plate, untouched, as she smiles and keeps going.
After dinner, Yanagi grabs his tennis bag. He pulls his sneakers on. His mother pops out of the kitchen. She wrings her hands on a tea towel.
"I'll be back later," he says.
He stops outside the lobby of the building. From one pocket, he turns off his cellphone. From the other, Yanagi pulls a wad of coins and drops them into the vending machine. The Pepsi is out. So are the Aquarius choices. He settles on water, and stuffs the bottle into his bag. The street is empty of people and littered with shadows and the soft rustle of wrappers in the breeze. It rifles through Yanagi's hair. He thinks of Kirihara's fingers over his scalp, instead. Yanagi shivers.
Two blocks down the road, and kitty-corner across an intersection there is a small park. The flood lights are on. Yanagi walks past the sushi shop on the corner. The red lantern sways. Inside, Yanagi can see a couple old men nursing sake cups. Niou might slip in through the sliding door to try to join them. Yanagi frowns. Niou makes something hot rise up in his chest. Yanagi clenches his jaw. The heat spreads down through his arms, and into his balled fists, too.
When he crosses the road, the swoosh and pong of balls echoes. Yanagi walks a little closer to peer through heavy bushes. Junior high-sized students run across the one court: a doubles match. The pair closest to him both run for the shot to the baseline. "You idiot!" the baseliner shouts. The net player throws his racket up and says his partner missed the last three baseline volleys anyway. Yanagi shakes his head.
Five blocks west are another set of street courts. This time, they are empty. Yanagi sets his bag down on the bench. His shadow is stretched out long and lean across the green pavement. Without prying eyes, he stretches his calves in lunges. He runs around the courts five times to loosen his muscles. He swings his arms in circles without, and then with his racket. Yanagi sets his racket down and reaches for his toes. The strain in the back of his knees is satisfying the longer he holds the position. A faint breeze licks at the sides of his neck. There is a crescent moon hanging in the sky. It's the sort of night that Basho would write about frogs croaking for lovers and willows sighing rather than the crunch of pavement under sneakers, or the thwop of a tennis ball against the ground.
Yanagi tightens his grip on the ball. The felt is warm and soft in his hand. He should have brought the newer canister, but he left that in the clubhouse. He throws the ball up and rocks back on his heel. He slams a ball against the cement wall. It ricochets straight and hard back at him. Yanagi takes a half-step to the right. The ball hits his racket too high. He bares his teeth as he twists his wrist to bring the ball under control toward the sweet spot. His muscles strain as the ball pushes back. Yanagi narrows his eyes. He pushes his arm that much more. The ball veers off his racket, five degrees wrong of an angle.
He goes through the canister, then he collects the balls from the far corners of the courts. Sweat slides down the sides of his face as he leans down to pick the balls up. Behind the cement wall and a veil of dark trees, the traffic rushes by. There are movements through the trees: small rustles and the pad of rubber soles. Yanagi reaches for his sweat towel. When he pushes it back from his face, Kirihara is standing in front of him.
Yanagi holds the towel tight. He says nothing. Kirihara follows him to the bench. He's brought his tennis bag with him, which he sets down next to Yanagi's. "I called your house," he says, "since you didn't pick up your cellphone."
Kirihara swings his legs. They're longer this year. His heels scuff the pavement now. "Your mom said you were out playing tennis, but you weren't at the courts by your place, so I figured this one." He laughs a little. He runs his tongue along his bottom teeth. Yanagi's eyes flick to Kirihara's thighs. Then he stops himself and grabs his water bottle.
"It's the only other courts I know near your place," Kirihara says.
Yanagi takes a sip of the water. It drips at the corners of his mouth, which he wipes away with the back of his hand. Kirihara watches him. His legs stop swinging. He leans closer. Blood rushes to Yanagi's head. His vision swims.
Then Kirihara holds out a bottle of Aquarius. "You like this stuff, right?" His words are thick. Yanagi's head is heavy. He manages a nod.
As Kirihara hands him the bottle, their fingers touch. Electricity races up Yanagi's spine. He stiffens. Blood rushes between his legs, too. His dick hardens. It hardens even more as Kirihara leans across Yanagi's lap. The bottle hits the ground with a thump. Kirihara's breath is hot. Yanagi can smell the mineraly sweetness of the sports drink on Kirihara's lips. That seaweed hair brushes the side of Yanagi's jaw. His dick throbs and he tries to shift on the bench.
Kirihara whispers his name. His lips are feather light in the moment they brush Yanagi's chin-missing their mark.
Yanagi turns away. His chin burns. Kirihara stretches over his lap again, but Yanagi pushes him off. "Not here," he says. Kirihara sticks out his bottom lip. Yanagi pushes harder. "Not. Here."
One of the flood lights start to flicker. Kirihara stands up. With a loud hiss, the light shuts off. Half the court darkens, and so does Kirihara's face. Yanagi leans back against the wooden slats of the bench. He looks away from Kirihara, into the dark trees instead. Yanagi can hear the soft sounds of Kirihara breathing above the hum of insects flitting over their heads.
He sucks in a breath. "Akaya…"
There is a flash of Kirihara's teeth. He sneers. Yanagi swallows. A lump thickens in his throat. His palms feel clammy. He's still hard, and the ache intensifies as he stands up. His shorts and underpants shift over the hypersensitive skin. For a second, Yanagi closes his eyes. He says Kirihara's name again. I'm sorry. Not here.
"Niou…" Yanagi purses his lips. He thinks over the words. "He knows."
Kirihara rolls his eyes. He walks around in a little circle around Yanagi. Then he flops down onto the bench, right where Yanagi was. Kirihara stretches his arms along the back. His legs aren't the only parts of his body that have grown recently. "Yeah, well…I know stuff about him, too!"
Yanagi raises his eyebrows.
The side of Kirihara's mouth curls into a smirk. Yanagi's insides are feverish. His erection burns. He wants to grab Kirihara's hands and push him down into the bench slats. He wants to wipe that smirk from Kirihara's lips. He wants to watch that smirk widen into a rounded gasp when he bites the side of Kirihara's shoulder, in the soft spot that makes him mewl. Yanagi flushes all over. His legs seem to shake under his body. He walks around to keep himself steady, and to increase the distance between them.
There is still a ball in the far corner of the courts. The yellow is dimmed by the shadows. It sits wedged under the chain link fence near a rustling empty chip bag. Yanagi walks over to it. Footsteps follow him. He keeps his back turned as he squats down to pick the ball up. As his hands close over the soft felt, another hand digs into his shoulder.
"Senpai!" Kirihara hisses. He grabs at Yanagi's hair. The ball drops from Yanagi's hands. He twists his hands around Kirihara's arm. Kirihara growls and pushes down. Yanagi falls back from his squat onto the ground. Dust plumes around them, and insects too. Kirihara says something in the back of his throat. Then he is on top of Yanagi. He's heavy and hard and kissing Yanagi. Teeth clack. His fingers dig into the back of Yanagi's neck. Pain flares up and Yanagi jerks his head, an automatic response. His body responds to Kirihara, too-Kirihara rubs his own erection on Yanagi's thigh. Their clothing rustles. Kirihara's kissing gets faster and sloppier. Yanagi kisses back to keep up. A hand slides between their bodies. It cups his erection. Rough fingertips slip under his waistband. They crawl down Yanagi's stomach. He's numb and shuddering and his own hand slides under Kirihara's t-shirt, where his skin is hot and dry and his muscles shift.
Those fingers wiggle down to Yanagi's dick. He snaps his eyes open. His body stiffens.
He shoves Kirihara away. Kirihara doesn't budge, but he does pull back from Yanagi's mouth. His eyes are bloodshot. His hair is a mess. Yanagi's heart pounds in his chest. His blood pounds between his legs, too. Kirihara squeezes his hand around Yanagi's dick. Yanagi bites his lip on a moan, and he pushes harder on Kirihara. His arms feel heavy and his legs are leaden. It takes all his strength to not give in to the rush of sensation as Kirihara strokes him.
"Akaya, get off!"
He pushes a third time. Kirihara pulls his hand out from Yanagi's track pants. He stumbles backwards to his feet. He's still hard. So is Yanagi. Through the trees, the traffic lights change and the purr of engines start again.
"You're not the only one who'd get caught!" Kirihara says. He sniffles, and turns away for a moment. He fumbles with his eye. Yanagi just frowns. He walks back toward the bench, and his tennis bag. Halfway there, he realizes the ball is sitting under the fence, right where he left it. His shoulders tense.
He turns to see Kirihara at the net, with the ball in his hand. His mouth is set in a line. His chest rises and falls with a steady pace. His eyes are focused on Yanagi, and he doesn't look away. Kirihara looks older than the screaming brat Yanagi played tennis with last year.
"Play a game with me, at least," Kirihara says. His voice cracks a little. His nervous little laugh doesn't change.
Yanagi's shoulders loosen up as he grabs his tennis racket, and says, "One set match."
***
"The bath is still ready, but it might be a little cold," his mom says.
Yanagi walks past her. "That's fine," he says.
He peels the sweat-sticky clothes, and chucks them into a pile by the doorway. His dick is so swollen he can't look down. He starts the shower and grabs his cock-fast and frantic with his hand until he's bent over and gasping under the spray of water. He leans against the wall. His feet slide along the tiled floor. His legs are boneless. The nerves of his dick throb and his fingers tingle. Yanagi closes his eyes. With a sigh, he remembers the feeling of Kirihara's fingers under his waistband instead of his own. His insides are empty, unsatisfied. He turns off the shower and sinks into the tepid bathwater. Outside the bathroom, there is a click as the hallway light is turned off. Yanagi grabs his knees. He presses his jaw to the top of them. Water laps at his chin. Kirihara did too, earlier, until Yanagi pushed him off.
My parents are going away to Gumma this weekend. We'd be alone…
Yanagi dunks his face into the water. Kirihara's words echo in his ears. He was red-faced and his t-shirt was dark with sweat after their game. Yanagi won. Kirihara cursed and kicked at the net, but on the bench, they sat in silence. The moon glowed against the clouds in the sky. Kirihara offered Yanagi his Aquarius again. He didn't ask, he told Yanagi with a flicker of something in his eyes. Yanagi was so hard, he couldn't answer. No, he could have said. I'm busy. I have homework.
His bones ache, even now. He slips under the cool sheets of his bed. He reaches his toes to the end of the mattress, until they dangle out, then he brings them back under the sheets. His eyes are heavy. But his pulse races. So does his mind. He reaches across to the bed side table for his cellphone. There's a missed call from Sanada-he'd be in bed now. There's a message from Sadaharu. Yanagi's ribs creak as he opens it.
We could play a match this weekend before the prefectural rounds begin in 2 weeks.
…My parents are going away to Gumma…
Yanagi flips his phone closed. He takes a deep breath, but his chest is tight. He listens to his pulse in his ears, and the sounds of his sighs as the apartment creaks in the darkness. He flops onto his side and slides his arm under the pillow. His leg twitches. His knee throbs and his toes crack when he stretches them out. Yanagi sighs. He turns onto the other side, but the sheets are too warm here.
He stays awake until the first crows start to caw, just before dawn. He looks at the time on the glowing LCD screen of his cellphone and thinks I have to wake up in an hour and a half for practice. Then, he closes his eyes, and finally sleeps.
***
"Did your mother tell you?"
Yanagi nods. They round the corner of the net. Their sneakers slap the ground in tandem.
"And?" Sanada asks. His breathing is loud. "He wants you to come?"
Yanagi snorts a laugh. "Not just you, Oji-"
"Shut up!"
Yanagi stumbles. He lands on his shins. Players skirt around him, darting out of the way just in time. Sanada runs ahead until the next corner, then he looks back with a crease in his forehead. Yanagi stands up. He brushes the biggest pieces of gravel from his legs. His eyes are crusted in the corners, and his limbs are sluggish as he starts to catch up. Sanada has slowed down until their paces match again.
"Renji?"
"I'm fine," Yanagi says. His face burns. So do the muscles between his ribs. They finish the set of laps, and meet Yukimura by the ball machines.
Yukimura pokes Yanagi in the side. "You look like shit."
Yanagi says hn.
"Growth spurt again?" Yukimura asks. He stretches his arms above his head. The armpits of his uniform t-shirt are stained dark, and he smells rank with sweat. Yanagi turns to the side a bit to cough.
"I grew two cm last month," Yukimura says. "If you've bothered to notice."
"I have your stats," Yanagi says. He taps his forehead.
"Well, what I'm saying is that we have to adjust our forms constantly at our age," Yukimura says. "Except Genichirou, who is doomed to 181 forever."
Sanada rolls his eyes. Yukimura laughs and prods him in the bicep.
Out of the corner of his eye, something streaks across the campus grounds from the direction of the north gate. All three of them look up as the person runs fast over the grass-he runs past the tennis courts toward the junior high school with a massive tennis bag strapped to his back, slamming against his back. Yukimura smiles. Sanada looks at Yanagi. They share a shake of their heads. Yanagi checks his watch. He tries not to think about the heat deep in his belly, or between his legs.
"Akaya is a half hour late."
"You were a fool to let him be captain, Yukimura," Sanada says.
Yukimura prods Sanada in the other arm. Sanada crosses his arms over his chest.
Yukimura lifts his chin up high. A hint of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "He'll learn."
***
"Renji."
"Hn?"
"You have not responded to the message I sent 2 hours and 43 minutes ago. Are you distracted?"
"Maybe I pay more attention to my tennis practices than you do."
Sadaharu laughs on the other end. Yanagi can hear him pause-he's pushing up his glasses. He does that when he thinks something over. "That is incorrect," he says. "I was practicing with Kaidoh last night until 9:30."
"Kaidoh…" Yanagi laughs under his breath, too. "You're close to him."
"With Tezuka in Germany, Kaidoh needs the assistance of his senpais as captain."
Yanagi thinks about Kirihara racing across the campus this morning. He shot Yanagi a look at lunch: he held Yanagi's gaze with a steady stare until Yanagi looked down at his book. There was a new message on his cellphone after gym class, a reminder about his parents being gone this weekend. Sanada walked up to him and asked why his face was flushed when Yanagi snapped his cellphone shut.
Sadaharu starts to talk about Tezuka. Yanagi picks his pencil up and goes over the number 4 in his Sudoku game. He traces the lines back and forth, up and down. Sadaharu drones on about German regimens, and the temperature in Stuttgart. He says that he bought a Learn to Speak German book, but the sounds are awkward for a Japanese person. How does Tezuka get by? I don't really care, Yanagi thinks. He moves to the next square and traces over a number 2. The numbers don't match up, so he scratches it out, and moves the 2 to a free box in the upper right corner.
"…Tezuka did not return my email on Tuesday. The time difference is 8 hours. He should have time to respond in the evenings. I estimate his free time hours to be between-"
"Sadaharu?"
"-one and a half…ah, Renji. Yes?"
"Maybe Tezuka has a girlfriend."
There is a long pause. Yanagi sets his pencil down. He bites down a chuckle as Sadaharu makes small, puzzled noises in the back of his throat.
"I have not considered that possibility before."
"Maybe he just didn't feel like responding."
"I did not consider that, either." There are voices in the background. And the muffled sound of the phone being pressed to a palm. Then Sadaharu says, "Renji, I am being summoned for dinner."
"We'll resume the call-"
"Tomorrow. At six."
Yanagi agrees. He presses end, and sets it on his desk beside the Sudoku book. He grabs a novel from the shelf above his desk, then he flops onto his bed with it. The window is open a slim crack and air filters through the curtains in waves. It ruffles the pages of his book as he finds his place.
Tomorrow. Friday.
My parents are gone this weekend.
Yanagi flips over onto his back. He sets the book on his chest, pushing the spine down to his ribs. His heart pounds against the pages. The breeze shifts to drift across his face. Kirihara's lips did that the other night, and Yanagi pushed him away. He reaches for his dick and cups it through his pants. He looks to the doorway-closed, but the sounds of the tv and his mother in the kitchen don't drown out his sigh he makes when he rolls back onto his stomach. He picks the novel up. Yanagi stares at the page. He can't remember what he read last night. He thinks about Sadaharu. He thinks about Kirihara, too.
His racket sits propped up in the corner, between his desk and the doorway. The grip tape has changed three times over since the Nationals, but when Yanagi wraps his hand around it, he can still smell the blood from the courts at Odaiba.
***
There isn't enough caffeine in his matcha latte before practice (bought with Sanada, in the Starbucks in the train station). The cake burns in the oven during home ec. Marui looks up from his cellphone that he was watching Pirates of the Caribbean on, and sniffs the air. He lets out a shriek and flies to the oven. Smoke plumes out as soon as he yanks the door open. The smoke detector starts to scream, too. The teacher yells for a baking sheet. Jackal runs with a tray to fan the detector before the smoke alarms in the rest of the school go off, too.
Marui does the honour of scraping the black contents of the cake pan into the garbage. Charred pieces clump on the spatula. Marui wipes it off on the side of the rubbish bin with a frown. "Didn't you set the timer, Yanagi?" he asks. He narrows his eyes. The spatula is in Yanagi's face.
Yanagi opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.
Marui shakes his head. "Figures the data man would forget the most important variable."
"Besides sugar," Jackal says.
Marui nods. "Besides sugar."
At lunch, Yanagi takes his lunch to the library. He sits between the stacks of world history books. Sunlight peaks through the rows of books and pools on the floor by his feet. He opens his book with a sigh. He picks at a fish ball. He plays with the cap on his PET bottle. He opens the novel again, and crosses his ankles the other way. A librarian pushes a book cart down the aisle. Yanagi stuffs the bento behind his book, and looks down at the page. As soon as the librarian passes, he looks up.
Someone whistles on the other side of the stack. The sunlight moves across his foot. The back of Yanagi's neck prickles. "Niou," he says.
Niou looks around the stack. He slips down and squats next to Yanagi. He's whistling a Disney theme song. His fingers flex. Yanagi moves his bento out of the way. Niou stops whistling. He rubs his mole on the right side of his chin.
"He wants to know where I am," Yanagi says.
Niou shrugs. "Probably."
Yanagi frowns. His hands are cold. The muscles of his face twitch.
"I didn't tell him you were here, by the way," Niou says. He stands up with a lazy stretch of his arms above his head.
"And Yagyuu?" Yanagi asks.
Niou's arms freeze for a half-second. He swings them down to his sides, and stuffs them into his pockets. Over his shoulder, he snorts at Yanagi. "What about Yagyuu?" He starts to whistle again, this time the Mission Impossible overture as he saunters away.
In gym class, Yanagi stops in the middle of warm up laps for soccer.
Niou's mole is on the other side of his chin.
***