FIC: Inside Your Hand (Sanada/multiple, Rish)
Title: Inside Your Hand
Author: Ociwen
Rating: Rish
Wordcount: 4700
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all, except for Pointillism and Pisarro.
Summary: Sanada learns to move on. Sanada/multiple (*gaspshock!*)
Author's Notes: Written for Sanada's birthday 2011! Happy birthday, Sanada! ♥
It happens at the onsen. He's staring. His eyes follow the lines of Yukimura's body. He's sixteen, and stupid.
Yukimura turns away. The steam obscures his face. "Tomorrow, I think I'm going to ask Haruka out."
The soap slips from Sanada's hands.
***
He takes a long walk. Past the pines and the zelkovas. Past the ridge, riddled with viney roots and ferns that brushed the backs of his calves. Past the crow, sitting on the branch, watching him with black, soulless eyes.
It's dark. Light glows from the windows of the house. The corridor creaks as he steps inside. His mother's shadow moves across the kitchen. Sanada closes his eyes. His jaw trembles again. His cheeks burn with shame.
In the morning, Yagyuu's sister sits on the stands. She has a big smile. Yukimura waves back at her.
Sanada walks straight past the clubhouse.
***
Renji says, "Maybe you should consider another sport."
Sanada's chest tightens. His pulse echoes in his ears. There is a long pause, then Renji adds, "For the time being, that is."
Sanada holds a breath until Renji hangs up.
***
He hacks at the straw dummy. His katana bounces back. Sanada grinds his teeth. He screams. He lunges. He steps back, and strikes left.
Shadows move across the tokonoma.
He turns. Sweat slithers from his temple. His concentration falters. His mind is clouded.
Sasuke says, "Wanna play tennis, oji-san?"
Sanada thrusts the katana into the dummy. Straw filaments drift in the air.
Sasuke says, "Can I practice too, oji-san?"
Sanada inhales. He drops his shoulders, and tightens his jaw. He raises the katana. It slashes through the straw.
The top of the dummy falls to the floor.
"Get me another," he says.
***
The koi floats on the surface of the pond. Sasuke prods it with a stick.
"Don't," Sanada says.
"Why don't you take Sasuke-chan to get a new koi?" his mother says. Sasuke raps at her ankles. She shakes her head and laughs.
The store is on the line toward Tokyo, three blocks from the train station. Sasuke runs ahead. Sanada walks between rows of tanks. Electric gobies flicker under the blue lighting. Sasuke yells about a loach. Sanada's temple throbs. He counts to ten.
Someone walks into him. Sanada stumbles back. The other guy does too. "I'm so sorry," he says. He brushes off his knees. Sanada reaches down for the box of fish food the guy dropped.
He blinks. "Seigaku's Oishi?"
Oishi's eyes widen. "Rikkai's Sanada?" His face starts to flush. He glances to the fish food in Sanada's hands. Sanada holds it out.
Sasuke grabs Sanada's sleeve. "Ojiiii-san, I found the perfect one!"
Oishi nods his head at Sanada. "Guppies are great for kids," he said.
Sanada nods back, just once.
***
The washitsu is used by the ikebana club on Thursdays. Sanada goes to the rooftop. The hum of cicadas permeats the hanging humidity.
There is a giggle. Sanada narrows his eyes. His breathing catches. His body is leaden, and unmoving.
Yukimura offers a flower to Haruka. His eyes gleam in the sunlight. She mutters something, too low to catch.
Sanada swallows. He grabs the railing. The metal sears his palms. Yukimura's voice stabs at his chest, and twists.
He walks past them. Yukimura says his name. "When are you coming to practice again?" His voice is haughty and his pronouns formal.
Sanada closes the door to the stairwell behind himself.
From behind the vending machine Niou slips out. His mouth has a crooked smile. He slouches as he walks next to Sanada.
"Gross, huh?"
Sanada says, "I don't know what you're talking about." He walks faster. Niou jogs ahead to cut him off.
Niou lifts his chin high. "Yagyuu and Yukimura. Double-dating each other's sisters. You know."
Sanada meets Niou's gaze. The words almost don't come out. "I don't care."
***
A limo pulls up to the sidewalk. He's walking home after kendo club. His throat hurts from yelling at the other members-they can't hold the shinai properly, their footwork was atrocious, they're all out-of-shape morons.
The window rolls down. Atobe sticks his head out.
"You're not playing tennis," he says.
Sanada keeps walking.
Atobe purses his lips. He flips back his hair. "You should play with me, at least, Sanada."
Sanada glances toward Atobe. Atobe smirks at him. Sanada walks faster.
The limo moves too.
"What are you doing Saturday?" Atobe asks.
"I'm busy," Sanada mutters.
"No, you're not!" Atobe snaps.
Sanada raises an eyebrow. Atobe leans back in the limo for a moment. Then he says, "If Yukimura asked, you would."
Sanada cuts down an alley too tight for the limo. Atobe doesn't follow, but his voice cuts Sanada sharp in the gut.
***
"How is the kendo club?" Renji asks.
Sanada scowls. "Terrible. They have no discipline."
"And you're correcting this, I presume?"
Sanada snorts. He leans out his window. The night air wafts against his face. He sighs. "They're on break for the summer."
"And are you…."
"No," Sanada says.
***
Something hits the wall. Sanada stirs. A second something whizzes through his window. He stumbles to the open window with a yawn.
On the ground, Niou wiggles his fingers. He holds up a tennis ball.
"Game?"
If he was awake Sanada would have answered differently. Instead, on Saturday afternoon, he and Niou slam balls across the net. Niou aims for Sanada's left blind spot. Sanada aims for Niou's face. His muscles tingle. His shots are straight and sharp. Niou blows raspberries. He sticks out his tongue, then he serves short.
Sanada lunges for the shot. His racket nicks the balls.
Niou clicks his tongue. "Outta bounds."
Sanada wipes his forehead with the hem of his tshirt. A shiver of frisson runs up his arms and down his legs. Niou is staring.
***
"Sanada, do you know who this is?"
Sanada rolls his eyes. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't hang up on you?"
Atobe chuckles. The sound grates Sanada's ear. He narrows his eyes, glares at the koi pond where Sasuke added the guppie three months ago.
"Hyoutei won the Nationals, of course."
Sanada's chest seizes for a moment. He stiffens.
"It was because you weren't there to play me," Atobe says.
"Go play with Tezuka," Sanada says.
Atobe makes a noise. "I can't do that right now, either. Victory just isn't the same if you aren't there to lose to me."
Sanada gets a new cell-and a new number-the next morning.
***
On the first day back from August vacation, he walks past the tennis courts. The nets slag in the thick heat. Leaves and the shells of dead cicadas litter the clay surface. There's a broom propped up against the side of the clubhouse, but no one has swept yet.
Niou whistles from behind the tool shed. Sanada pulls at the brim of his cap. "I already know," he grumbles.
Niou kicks at a piece of gravel. He raises his eyebrows and says nothing except "Puri."
***
They meet at the streetcourts across from Dai-ni Elementary. His feet pound the pavement. His heart pounds, harder than it ever does in Kendo Club. Niou shoots lobs into the dying sun. It blinds Sanada to look up and search. He circles. He swings. A shadow flickers, then the ball thwops once.
He lunges with a backhand shot. His body contorts and his calves strain.
Niou sucks his teeth. He flips his hair back. Sanada twists his wrist as the ball flies off his racket. The ball careens at a hard angle. Niou dives across the clay.
The ball rolls against the chain link fence. Niou touches his knee. He licks at the blood on his fingers, and spits.
Sunset washes mauve streaks across the sky. The floodlights flicker. Sanada takes a swig from a PET bottle. Niou leans into him.
He knows, vaguely, what Niou is doing. But not until Niou's mouth touches his does Sanada fully realize. He tenses. His jaw slackens. He closes his eyes as the blood rushes to his head and between his legs.
Someone moans. Sanada opens his mouth. He lets Niou's hot, sticky tongue meet his. He grabs at Niou's face. Their noses bump, their foreheads brush. Niou kisses him and Sanada kisses him back hard.
A hand pulls at his waistband. Sanada arches into Niou's body. He's feverish. He's frantic to keep up. His mind swims with a thousand half-thoughts. His body flushes hot and cold and hot again. Niou's fingers dip into his sweaty, clinging underpants. Sanada pulls back. Saliva trails between their mouths as he mutters a name.
He tilts his head to kiss Niou. Niou jerks back. He yanks his hand back. The deepening shadows hide his face.
Sanada wipes his mouth. He can taste the tang of blood on his lips all night.
***
Yukimura kisses his girlfriend in the third floor annex. His hands are under her skirt. Her leg is wrapped around his waist.
Sanada touches the band on his arm. He watches for a little too long. His hands shake. He tells himself to breathe.
***
In the corridor, Yukimura narrows his eyes. Sanada reaches for his cap, but his hand touches only air.
"I know it was you who told the head teacher," Yukimura hisses. "Thanks for giving me detention for a week!"
Sanada clenches his jaw.
***
A rumour spreads around the second years. Guys prod each other in the sides. They snigger behind backs. Girls type illicit emails on their cells in class. They whisper behind their hands.
Three of the kendo club members hand in resignations to the coach. They shoot Sanada sideways glares. Sanada asks a third year if he wants to spar. The third year takes a step back.
"Maybe another time," he says.
Sanada's skin crawls. He glances around. Two first years turn away.
"There's a fag on one of the sports teams," a senior tells a friend. He pulls his mask off, and wipes his face. His friend curls his lip.
When Sanada steps into the changeroom after practice, no one speaks.
***
He hands in his resignation to the coach on Friday.
His mother pokes her head into the dojo that evening. "I saved you some supper, Genichirou," she says.
Sanada hacks and chops at the dummy until a pile of straw splinters remains.
***
There is an announcement over the PA that Yukimura Seiichi is leaving the school to start training in Miami.
Sanada looks out the window. The first blush of autumn scarlet tinges the trees on campus. The hard lump in his throat doesn't go away all afternoon.
***
He takes the bus for two hours. The road winds around mountains and zig-zags through valleys. The air is crisp. Sanada opens the window and breathes it in. He's alone on the bus, except for the driver.
The driver stops at a bridge. "Right here where you wanted?" He says something about it being a popular place today.
Sanada picks up the fishing line and the tin box. He nods. The bus disappears into the mossy firs. The next won't come for another four hours.
He follows the river bed for ten minutes, around a soft bend. The river isn't too deep, but the spray on his face is frigid. He settles down on the pebbly bank. At this time of year, the current is leisurely, bubbling around him.
Sanada adjusts his cap. He squints up the river. The tackle drops from his fingers. There's another figure, standing at the water's edge, in the distance.
The figure waves. Sanada frowns. It comes closer. Sanada's frown deepens.
Seigaku's Oishi sets his fishing gear down beside Sanada's. He smiles. "Of all the places!"
"How do you know about this place?" Sanada grumbles.
Oishi laughs. His hairfangs drift in the mountain breeze. "Tezuka told me, ages ago." He sighs, and looks at the water.
Sanada closes his mouth. Oishi asks how he knows about this place.
Sanada snorts. "My grandfather and I went fishing with Tezuka and his grandfather."
"Ah," Oishi says.
Sanada grunts.
"I caught a really nice trout the last time I was here," Oishi says. "Then I released it, of course. It looked at me with its big eyes and we spoke the same language."
"Trout?" Sanada asks. He mouth almost twitches. So does Oishi's.
They exchange numbers and make pretences to call and do this again. But they never do.
***
"He asked about you," Renji says. He blows into the phone. "Genichirou?"
"I heard," Sanada says. He touches the pull on the drawer and opens it. Under the pile of antique shop pamphlets and old math tests, there's a photo. Sanada runs his finger along the dog-eared edge. The back says, "Nationals, First Year". He doesn't turn it over.
"He asked if you were on the tennis team now that he was gone."
Sanada answers with a grunt. His mouth is filled with sand. He closes his eyes, closes the drawer.
"Was I right in telling him there was a ninety-five percent chance it would not happen?"
"Don't you always want to be right?" Sanada asks.
***
In his last year of high school, Sanada finds Kirihara standing beside his shoe cubby. He's grown a foot and can look straight in the eye. His awkward laugh is still the same, and so is the seaweed mop.
"Ne, fukubuchou," Kirihara says.
Sanada pulls his left shoe on. He looks at Kirihara for a moment. Kirihara smiles with all his teeth.
"Since buchou is gone, you're gonna have to help me figure out how to be captain." Kirihara puffs his chest out. He laughs. "Since I am and all now."
"Yagyuu or Renji should be captain," Sanada mutters. Kirihara deflates. He makes a nervous little noise. He jogs behind Sanada.
"They tied in the vote so it went to me," Kirihara says.
Under his breath, Sanada says, "You're the least responsible moron they could have picked."
Kirihara looks at him. "Hn?"
Sanada snorts.
***
"Neither Yagyuu nor I wanted to do it," Renji says.
"Entrance exams," Sanada says.
Renji makes a noise, almost like a laugh. Sanada asks what.
"Yagyuu doesn't want to be there at six to set up, and nor do I," Renji says.
Sanada furrows his brow. Sasuke streaks across the yard into the pile of leaves Sanada just raked. Sanada grimaces. Leaves fly all around. Sanada picks one out of his hair. He adjusts his cellphone.
"That is the most pathetic reason to avoid being tennis club captain I have ever heard," he says.
***
The seasonal apple drink is out at Starbucks. Sanada walks from school after morals committee. Signs for nabe and shabushabu clutter the sidewalks. Garlic and oil and deep-fried scents of shrimp and pork fill the air of the shopping arcade. Sanada breathes in deep. He stops for a second.
There's a loud crash behind him. He glances over his shoulder. A sign for the chococro shop has tipped over. Sanada pulls his cap over his eyes.
The Starbucks paper cup is warm in his hands. The drink is a little too hot. His cell reads half-past five. Sanada frowns. He steps outside of the Starbucks. Cold air blasts his face. Across the arcade lane, a familiar mop of hair peaks out from the top of a rack of shoes.
Sanada waits for a moment. Then he cuts right, down the alley, and toward the subway station. He listens, but there are too many pedestrians swarming past. He jogs down the stairs to the station, and catches the train pulling up to the platform.
The subway car is overheated with people. Sanada squeezes between an OL and a group of university students. His eyes drift to the ads overhead. One for a women's clinic, and the other for indoor golf. A third, above the doors, has a man and woman holding hands. A wedding reception hall outside the city. He clenches his jaw.
He walks from the station to home. His hands are numb. The Starbucks drink is cold, and the whipped cream congealed into oily patches on the surface. Leaves crunch underfoot. His breath clouds in front of him.
The leaves crunch underfoot again.
Sanada turns. Kirihara is thirty feet behind, and trying to hide behind a skeletal tree.
"Err…" he says.
"Are you following me?" Sanada snaps.
"Ah…" Kirihara scratches at his head. He laughs. "Can I ask you some questions about being a captain and shit?"
Sanada flares his nostrils. He snorts. "You idiot! Why didn't you just email?"
Kirihara's shoulders sink a little. He rolls his eyes. "You changed your number, duh. Only Yanagi-senpai knows it and he won’t share."
Sanada's face feels warmer than it should.
***
Kirihara invites himself over. Sanada tucks the newspaper into a drawer of the step-chest.
"You heard buchou beat that Swedish guy in the first round?" Kirihara asks. "He totally kicked his ass in Sydney!"
Sanada says nothing. Behind his back, he tightens his fist. His skin crawls with heat.
"What do you want?" Sanada asks.
"Uh…" Kirihara looks around the dojo. He runs his finger along the beam of the tokonoma. Sanada's eyes twitches. Kirihara steps toward the glass display of the swords. Sanada sucks in a breath. Kirihara creeps across the tatami floors in grey, grimy sweatsocks. Sanada scowls.
"Did you even bring anything?" Sanada snaps.
Kirihara stops mid-creep. He turns his head. There's a blank little smile slacking to the side. "Uh…sorry?"
"Idiot," Sanada hisses.
"There is stuff I came to know," Kirihara says. He sticks out his lower jaw. His eyes flicker in the weak light. He sits down next to Sanada, smelling of sweat and soap and something vaguely like the felt of tennis balls.
Sanada swallows.
"That was you, right?" Kirihara murmurs. His face leans into Sanada's. Nerves explode over Sanada's body as his mind races.
He goes for stern. The words are thick. "I don't know what you are talking-"
Kirihara's mouth cuts him off.
***
He lies in bed. His fingers tingle, his skin hums. Sanada closes his eyes. His body remembers the soft hair between his fingertips, and the sticky, sweaty skin pressed to his. He remembers the smell of tennis and soap and sweat. His heart pounds, then flutters, then pounds all over again.
***
"Will you come watch the prefecturals?"
"No."
***
The air in the clubhouse stifles. It smells of mold and rank sweat. Heady ozone from the storm seeps under the grimed window. Sanada presses his palm against the glass. He gasps. His legs shake. He leans forward and digs his other hand into Kirihara's hair. Kirihara runs his tongue along Sanada's dick.
His body shudders. Thunder claps outside.
Sanada bites down on his lip, but he groans anyway.
***
"Do you want to go to the arcade and check out-"
"No."
***
Kirihara's tshirt is glued to his back. His hair clings to Sanada's fingers. Cloying saliva sticks their lips together.
"Akaya, not he-"
Kirihara drags his teeth over Sanada's neck. Sanada squeezes his hand around Kirihara's dick. He chokes into Sanada's mouth. Sanada kisses back. A train rattles past. Lights and shadows alternate on the opposite wall.
Between pants, Kirihara says, "No one can see us here." It's a tucked-away corner of a train station, on a Sunday afternoon.
His dick is hot and hard in Sanada's hand. Sanada tightens his grip until Kirihara moans.
***
"Do you want to come visit my grandma's place up in Gumma? There's, like, hiking and fishing and onsens and lots of cool road kill!"
Sanada thinks for a moment.
"No."
***
"He's ranked forty-second now. If he defeats the Italian player in New York," Renji says.
Rain patters on the rooftop. Sanada touches the side of his neck. The skin pulses with faint pain from the bruise Kirihara left.
"Genichirou?"
Sanada grunts.
"Do you miss tennis?"
Sanada doesn't answer.
***
But he opens the drawer, and turns the photograph over. His throat closes up, and his chest shudders.
***
Kirihara breaks a vase in the dojo tokonoma. Sanada calls him an idiot, a fool. He smacks Kirihara across the face. Kirihara punches him back.
He phones Sanada three days later. "Sorry," he grumbles. "Can I pay you back when I get the money?"
"It doesn't matter," Sanada says.
He doesn't ever call back.
***
Sanada records the game on tv. He watches at three am, before his exam. Before anyone else wakes, he deletes the game from the box.
Yukimura lands in the top thirty. It was his fluid serve against the Serbian that won it.
Sanada lands into the university program.
***
Renji catches his eye during the graduation ceremony. He lifts his chin a little.
Across the row of his classmates, Sanada nods back. He turns back to the principal. He squeezes his hand a little harder around the diploma.
After, underneath the first sakura blossoms, Niou grabs Sanada by the shoulder. Yagyuu says congratulations. Marui grabs his hat and chucks it to Jackal. Jackal passes it behind his back to Yagyuu, who throws it high above their heads. Sanada tries to scowl. Renji says, "This'll be the last time."
Sanada glances around. His throat is thick.
***
In between lectures, Sanada creeps on Mixi. It hasn't been updated in months. The photos are old, and generic. The green of a court in Dubai. A picture taken from a rooftop of Paris, at night. Flowers at the airport in Madrid.
Sanada sighs.
And the following day, he creeps again, just in case Yukimura changed something overnight.
***
The back page of the sports section of the newspaper has a tiny photo on the left. Teen Tennis Champion Tezuka went for Starbucks in Stuttgart with Atobe Corp's heir, Keigo.
Marui has psychology class with Sanada. He shows up on Wednesdays, since lectures are after lunch. "It's a great place to nap," Marui says with yawn.
They go for ramen. Marui hits up the bookstore for the gossip rags. Sanada tells him they're trash. Marui chortles. He points to a page in Friday.
"Guess the rumours about Atobe hittin' on dudes were true." Marui waggles his eyebrows. He pokes his finger into Sanada's chest. "That might explain why he was so into you." He rofls.
Sanada shudders.
***
The clock ticks in the darkness. Frogs chorus outside.
Sanada wonders if Yukimura shuddered at him, that day in the onsen.
In the morning, his pillow is wet.
***
Renji hums. The frown on Sanada's face deepens.
"Well, Atobe certainly did want you-"
"Ugh," Sanada says.
"-to play tennis with him. Clearly, he moved on to Tezuka. That would explain why Sadaharu has not returned my emails in six days and five point three hours."
Sanada blinks. Sasuke slams the door when he comes in. His school bag crashes to the floor. "Oi, old man, is there anything to eat?" Sasuke shouts.
Sanada presses his phone closer. "Inui had a crush on Tezuka?"
"No," Renji says, "Processing this new data must be overwhelming."
Sanada doesn't ask.
***
Yukimura plays Andy Roddick at the Wimbledon semifinals. Sanada sits at the Starbucks in Motomachi with his earbuds in and the video stream on. Yukimura lobs. He should know that Roddick will return a low ball, or a drop shot. He runs to the net.
Instead, Roddick turns his wrist. He hits the ball flat, in the sweet spot. The ball goes deep.
Sanada sucks in a breath. It's match point. His heart slams into his ribs.
Yukimura twists his body. Sweat sluices down his rippling muscles. Heat pools between Sanada's legs. Yukimura bears his teeth.
A backhand wins against his idol.
Roddick retires the following week.
***
Astronomy is the only elective that fits in second year.
The lecture hall has seats for three hundred. Thirty come to class.
Oishi sits down beside Sanada. "Hello," he says.
Sanada nods his head. "Oishi," he mutters.
***
"My sources inform me that there was talk of a Tezuka-Yukimura doubles team for Monaco," Renji says.
"You mean Inui told you," Sanada says.
Renji avoids the question. "They were to be sponsored by Atobe Corp."
Sanada grunts.
"Then Tezuka and Atobe were rumoured to have broken up."
"You're a gossip," Sanada says. He mutters, "Tarundoru" under his breath.
Renji says Kirihara will make his debut in Monaco.
***
He does.
And loses spectacularly. His fit on the court makes the newspapers. His bent and broken racket makes the blogs.
Sanada rolls his eyes.
***
The university observatory has a 6-inch reflecting Cassegrain focus telescope in rural Kanagawa. The rest of the group has left for beers. Sanada writes down the last of his observations.
Oishi stands behind him. He chews on his lip.
Sanada furrows his brow. "The lab report is due next week."
Oishi bends for one last look through the telescope. He sighs. "My favourite constellation is Orion," he says.
Sanada sets his pen down. "I thought it would have been Gemini."
Oishi turns. He shakes his head. "Why would you think that?"
Under his cap, Sanada raises his eyebrows. "Your shadow in tennis. Weren't you and Kikumaru like twins?"
Oishi steps back. His expression flickers. He opens his mouth once, and fails. "We haven't talked in a while. The last I heard he had a girlfriend and was working in Shibuya."
Sanada just says, "Aah."
Oishi laughs to himself, almost nervously. He plays with the hems of his jacket sleeves. "I haven't spoken to Tezuka in ages either. We used to play tennis everyday…"
Sanada says nothing.
The technician tells them that he's closing the telescope down for the night. Sanada picks up his bags. Oishi slings his manbag over his shoulder. They walk halfway to the train station before he suddenly stops.
"So how come you aren't playing tennis with them?" he asks.
Sanada's chest tightens. "Injury," he lies. His face burns.
Oishi lifts his arm. "Me too."
The street is deserted. A lone house glows in the middle of a rice paddy. Above, stars peak through the nebulous glow of Tokyo to the east.
Sanada glances toward Oishi. Oishi smiles back, doesn't turn away. Instead, he leans close, his mouth warm and soft. His hair fangs brush Sanada's cheek when he pulls back.
"Orion is my favourite," Sanada mumbles. "I like his sword."
***
His cell rings. It's an unknown number. Sasuke said he was getting a new phone. Sanada picks up.
The voice is too familiar. Sanada's knees start to buckle. He places a hand on the wall to steady himself.
"Kirihara gave me your number," Yukimura says.
Sanada tries to breathe.
"I hope you'll watch my game on Monday," he says.
Sanada swallows. The words are distant, not his own. "I'm busy," he says. He thinks of the emails from last night, the yakiniku date. He shakes his head. He wants to hang up, but his fingers won't move.
"I'm sorry, you know," Yukimura says. "I was sixteen, and stupid."
Water drips in the stone fountain in the courtyard. The floor boards creak underfoot.
Finally, Sanada whispers, "I know."
***
He stares at the photograph for a long while. Shadows shift across the wall. Rain patters against the window. They hold the trophy between them, almost ten years ago. Sanada's the only one scowling.
He shakes his head, and his lips curl up. That was a good tournament, he thinks. He sets the photo down.
That night, he doesn't dream of shifting muscles, sweaty tshirts, the smell of tennis balls or fields of rooftop flowers.
***
He's twenty-two, a poor university student. He doesn't have the money for grand gestures like flying to Paris to watch matches in the flesh.
Yukimura and Tezuka meet in the third round. They shake hands at the net. Sanada squints at the television. Atobe's in the crowd, just behind Tezuka's coach. Oishi's shoulder brushes Sanada's. His hand does too, in the bowl of curry popcorn.
"Tezuka will win," Oishi says.
Sanada scoffs. "His arm will seize up. Yukimura will win."
Oishi's lips twitch. "Loser pays for yakiniku."
Sanada's nostrils flare, but he's smiling. "Only if there's sauce for the meat."
Author: Ociwen
Rating: Rish
Wordcount: 4700
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all, except for Pointillism and Pisarro.
Summary: Sanada learns to move on. Sanada/multiple (*gaspshock!*)
Author's Notes: Written for Sanada's birthday 2011! Happy birthday, Sanada! ♥
It happens at the onsen. He's staring. His eyes follow the lines of Yukimura's body. He's sixteen, and stupid.
Yukimura turns away. The steam obscures his face. "Tomorrow, I think I'm going to ask Haruka out."
The soap slips from Sanada's hands.
***
He takes a long walk. Past the pines and the zelkovas. Past the ridge, riddled with viney roots and ferns that brushed the backs of his calves. Past the crow, sitting on the branch, watching him with black, soulless eyes.
It's dark. Light glows from the windows of the house. The corridor creaks as he steps inside. His mother's shadow moves across the kitchen. Sanada closes his eyes. His jaw trembles again. His cheeks burn with shame.
In the morning, Yagyuu's sister sits on the stands. She has a big smile. Yukimura waves back at her.
Sanada walks straight past the clubhouse.
***
Renji says, "Maybe you should consider another sport."
Sanada's chest tightens. His pulse echoes in his ears. There is a long pause, then Renji adds, "For the time being, that is."
Sanada holds a breath until Renji hangs up.
***
He hacks at the straw dummy. His katana bounces back. Sanada grinds his teeth. He screams. He lunges. He steps back, and strikes left.
Shadows move across the tokonoma.
He turns. Sweat slithers from his temple. His concentration falters. His mind is clouded.
Sasuke says, "Wanna play tennis, oji-san?"
Sanada thrusts the katana into the dummy. Straw filaments drift in the air.
Sasuke says, "Can I practice too, oji-san?"
Sanada inhales. He drops his shoulders, and tightens his jaw. He raises the katana. It slashes through the straw.
The top of the dummy falls to the floor.
"Get me another," he says.
***
The koi floats on the surface of the pond. Sasuke prods it with a stick.
"Don't," Sanada says.
"Why don't you take Sasuke-chan to get a new koi?" his mother says. Sasuke raps at her ankles. She shakes her head and laughs.
The store is on the line toward Tokyo, three blocks from the train station. Sasuke runs ahead. Sanada walks between rows of tanks. Electric gobies flicker under the blue lighting. Sasuke yells about a loach. Sanada's temple throbs. He counts to ten.
Someone walks into him. Sanada stumbles back. The other guy does too. "I'm so sorry," he says. He brushes off his knees. Sanada reaches down for the box of fish food the guy dropped.
He blinks. "Seigaku's Oishi?"
Oishi's eyes widen. "Rikkai's Sanada?" His face starts to flush. He glances to the fish food in Sanada's hands. Sanada holds it out.
Sasuke grabs Sanada's sleeve. "Ojiiii-san, I found the perfect one!"
Oishi nods his head at Sanada. "Guppies are great for kids," he said.
Sanada nods back, just once.
***
The washitsu is used by the ikebana club on Thursdays. Sanada goes to the rooftop. The hum of cicadas permeats the hanging humidity.
There is a giggle. Sanada narrows his eyes. His breathing catches. His body is leaden, and unmoving.
Yukimura offers a flower to Haruka. His eyes gleam in the sunlight. She mutters something, too low to catch.
Sanada swallows. He grabs the railing. The metal sears his palms. Yukimura's voice stabs at his chest, and twists.
He walks past them. Yukimura says his name. "When are you coming to practice again?" His voice is haughty and his pronouns formal.
Sanada closes the door to the stairwell behind himself.
From behind the vending machine Niou slips out. His mouth has a crooked smile. He slouches as he walks next to Sanada.
"Gross, huh?"
Sanada says, "I don't know what you're talking about." He walks faster. Niou jogs ahead to cut him off.
Niou lifts his chin high. "Yagyuu and Yukimura. Double-dating each other's sisters. You know."
Sanada meets Niou's gaze. The words almost don't come out. "I don't care."
***
A limo pulls up to the sidewalk. He's walking home after kendo club. His throat hurts from yelling at the other members-they can't hold the shinai properly, their footwork was atrocious, they're all out-of-shape morons.
The window rolls down. Atobe sticks his head out.
"You're not playing tennis," he says.
Sanada keeps walking.
Atobe purses his lips. He flips back his hair. "You should play with me, at least, Sanada."
Sanada glances toward Atobe. Atobe smirks at him. Sanada walks faster.
The limo moves too.
"What are you doing Saturday?" Atobe asks.
"I'm busy," Sanada mutters.
"No, you're not!" Atobe snaps.
Sanada raises an eyebrow. Atobe leans back in the limo for a moment. Then he says, "If Yukimura asked, you would."
Sanada cuts down an alley too tight for the limo. Atobe doesn't follow, but his voice cuts Sanada sharp in the gut.
***
"How is the kendo club?" Renji asks.
Sanada scowls. "Terrible. They have no discipline."
"And you're correcting this, I presume?"
Sanada snorts. He leans out his window. The night air wafts against his face. He sighs. "They're on break for the summer."
"And are you…."
"No," Sanada says.
***
Something hits the wall. Sanada stirs. A second something whizzes through his window. He stumbles to the open window with a yawn.
On the ground, Niou wiggles his fingers. He holds up a tennis ball.
"Game?"
If he was awake Sanada would have answered differently. Instead, on Saturday afternoon, he and Niou slam balls across the net. Niou aims for Sanada's left blind spot. Sanada aims for Niou's face. His muscles tingle. His shots are straight and sharp. Niou blows raspberries. He sticks out his tongue, then he serves short.
Sanada lunges for the shot. His racket nicks the balls.
Niou clicks his tongue. "Outta bounds."
Sanada wipes his forehead with the hem of his tshirt. A shiver of frisson runs up his arms and down his legs. Niou is staring.
***
"Sanada, do you know who this is?"
Sanada rolls his eyes. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't hang up on you?"
Atobe chuckles. The sound grates Sanada's ear. He narrows his eyes, glares at the koi pond where Sasuke added the guppie three months ago.
"Hyoutei won the Nationals, of course."
Sanada's chest seizes for a moment. He stiffens.
"It was because you weren't there to play me," Atobe says.
"Go play with Tezuka," Sanada says.
Atobe makes a noise. "I can't do that right now, either. Victory just isn't the same if you aren't there to lose to me."
Sanada gets a new cell-and a new number-the next morning.
***
On the first day back from August vacation, he walks past the tennis courts. The nets slag in the thick heat. Leaves and the shells of dead cicadas litter the clay surface. There's a broom propped up against the side of the clubhouse, but no one has swept yet.
Niou whistles from behind the tool shed. Sanada pulls at the brim of his cap. "I already know," he grumbles.
Niou kicks at a piece of gravel. He raises his eyebrows and says nothing except "Puri."
***
They meet at the streetcourts across from Dai-ni Elementary. His feet pound the pavement. His heart pounds, harder than it ever does in Kendo Club. Niou shoots lobs into the dying sun. It blinds Sanada to look up and search. He circles. He swings. A shadow flickers, then the ball thwops once.
He lunges with a backhand shot. His body contorts and his calves strain.
Niou sucks his teeth. He flips his hair back. Sanada twists his wrist as the ball flies off his racket. The ball careens at a hard angle. Niou dives across the clay.
The ball rolls against the chain link fence. Niou touches his knee. He licks at the blood on his fingers, and spits.
Sunset washes mauve streaks across the sky. The floodlights flicker. Sanada takes a swig from a PET bottle. Niou leans into him.
He knows, vaguely, what Niou is doing. But not until Niou's mouth touches his does Sanada fully realize. He tenses. His jaw slackens. He closes his eyes as the blood rushes to his head and between his legs.
Someone moans. Sanada opens his mouth. He lets Niou's hot, sticky tongue meet his. He grabs at Niou's face. Their noses bump, their foreheads brush. Niou kisses him and Sanada kisses him back hard.
A hand pulls at his waistband. Sanada arches into Niou's body. He's feverish. He's frantic to keep up. His mind swims with a thousand half-thoughts. His body flushes hot and cold and hot again. Niou's fingers dip into his sweaty, clinging underpants. Sanada pulls back. Saliva trails between their mouths as he mutters a name.
He tilts his head to kiss Niou. Niou jerks back. He yanks his hand back. The deepening shadows hide his face.
Sanada wipes his mouth. He can taste the tang of blood on his lips all night.
***
Yukimura kisses his girlfriend in the third floor annex. His hands are under her skirt. Her leg is wrapped around his waist.
Sanada touches the band on his arm. He watches for a little too long. His hands shake. He tells himself to breathe.
***
In the corridor, Yukimura narrows his eyes. Sanada reaches for his cap, but his hand touches only air.
"I know it was you who told the head teacher," Yukimura hisses. "Thanks for giving me detention for a week!"
Sanada clenches his jaw.
***
A rumour spreads around the second years. Guys prod each other in the sides. They snigger behind backs. Girls type illicit emails on their cells in class. They whisper behind their hands.
Three of the kendo club members hand in resignations to the coach. They shoot Sanada sideways glares. Sanada asks a third year if he wants to spar. The third year takes a step back.
"Maybe another time," he says.
Sanada's skin crawls. He glances around. Two first years turn away.
"There's a fag on one of the sports teams," a senior tells a friend. He pulls his mask off, and wipes his face. His friend curls his lip.
When Sanada steps into the changeroom after practice, no one speaks.
***
He hands in his resignation to the coach on Friday.
His mother pokes her head into the dojo that evening. "I saved you some supper, Genichirou," she says.
Sanada hacks and chops at the dummy until a pile of straw splinters remains.
***
There is an announcement over the PA that Yukimura Seiichi is leaving the school to start training in Miami.
Sanada looks out the window. The first blush of autumn scarlet tinges the trees on campus. The hard lump in his throat doesn't go away all afternoon.
***
He takes the bus for two hours. The road winds around mountains and zig-zags through valleys. The air is crisp. Sanada opens the window and breathes it in. He's alone on the bus, except for the driver.
The driver stops at a bridge. "Right here where you wanted?" He says something about it being a popular place today.
Sanada picks up the fishing line and the tin box. He nods. The bus disappears into the mossy firs. The next won't come for another four hours.
He follows the river bed for ten minutes, around a soft bend. The river isn't too deep, but the spray on his face is frigid. He settles down on the pebbly bank. At this time of year, the current is leisurely, bubbling around him.
Sanada adjusts his cap. He squints up the river. The tackle drops from his fingers. There's another figure, standing at the water's edge, in the distance.
The figure waves. Sanada frowns. It comes closer. Sanada's frown deepens.
Seigaku's Oishi sets his fishing gear down beside Sanada's. He smiles. "Of all the places!"
"How do you know about this place?" Sanada grumbles.
Oishi laughs. His hairfangs drift in the mountain breeze. "Tezuka told me, ages ago." He sighs, and looks at the water.
Sanada closes his mouth. Oishi asks how he knows about this place.
Sanada snorts. "My grandfather and I went fishing with Tezuka and his grandfather."
"Ah," Oishi says.
Sanada grunts.
"I caught a really nice trout the last time I was here," Oishi says. "Then I released it, of course. It looked at me with its big eyes and we spoke the same language."
"Trout?" Sanada asks. He mouth almost twitches. So does Oishi's.
They exchange numbers and make pretences to call and do this again. But they never do.
***
"He asked about you," Renji says. He blows into the phone. "Genichirou?"
"I heard," Sanada says. He touches the pull on the drawer and opens it. Under the pile of antique shop pamphlets and old math tests, there's a photo. Sanada runs his finger along the dog-eared edge. The back says, "Nationals, First Year". He doesn't turn it over.
"He asked if you were on the tennis team now that he was gone."
Sanada answers with a grunt. His mouth is filled with sand. He closes his eyes, closes the drawer.
"Was I right in telling him there was a ninety-five percent chance it would not happen?"
"Don't you always want to be right?" Sanada asks.
***
In his last year of high school, Sanada finds Kirihara standing beside his shoe cubby. He's grown a foot and can look straight in the eye. His awkward laugh is still the same, and so is the seaweed mop.
"Ne, fukubuchou," Kirihara says.
Sanada pulls his left shoe on. He looks at Kirihara for a moment. Kirihara smiles with all his teeth.
"Since buchou is gone, you're gonna have to help me figure out how to be captain." Kirihara puffs his chest out. He laughs. "Since I am and all now."
"Yagyuu or Renji should be captain," Sanada mutters. Kirihara deflates. He makes a nervous little noise. He jogs behind Sanada.
"They tied in the vote so it went to me," Kirihara says.
Under his breath, Sanada says, "You're the least responsible moron they could have picked."
Kirihara looks at him. "Hn?"
Sanada snorts.
***
"Neither Yagyuu nor I wanted to do it," Renji says.
"Entrance exams," Sanada says.
Renji makes a noise, almost like a laugh. Sanada asks what.
"Yagyuu doesn't want to be there at six to set up, and nor do I," Renji says.
Sanada furrows his brow. Sasuke streaks across the yard into the pile of leaves Sanada just raked. Sanada grimaces. Leaves fly all around. Sanada picks one out of his hair. He adjusts his cellphone.
"That is the most pathetic reason to avoid being tennis club captain I have ever heard," he says.
***
The seasonal apple drink is out at Starbucks. Sanada walks from school after morals committee. Signs for nabe and shabushabu clutter the sidewalks. Garlic and oil and deep-fried scents of shrimp and pork fill the air of the shopping arcade. Sanada breathes in deep. He stops for a second.
There's a loud crash behind him. He glances over his shoulder. A sign for the chococro shop has tipped over. Sanada pulls his cap over his eyes.
The Starbucks paper cup is warm in his hands. The drink is a little too hot. His cell reads half-past five. Sanada frowns. He steps outside of the Starbucks. Cold air blasts his face. Across the arcade lane, a familiar mop of hair peaks out from the top of a rack of shoes.
Sanada waits for a moment. Then he cuts right, down the alley, and toward the subway station. He listens, but there are too many pedestrians swarming past. He jogs down the stairs to the station, and catches the train pulling up to the platform.
The subway car is overheated with people. Sanada squeezes between an OL and a group of university students. His eyes drift to the ads overhead. One for a women's clinic, and the other for indoor golf. A third, above the doors, has a man and woman holding hands. A wedding reception hall outside the city. He clenches his jaw.
He walks from the station to home. His hands are numb. The Starbucks drink is cold, and the whipped cream congealed into oily patches on the surface. Leaves crunch underfoot. His breath clouds in front of him.
The leaves crunch underfoot again.
Sanada turns. Kirihara is thirty feet behind, and trying to hide behind a skeletal tree.
"Err…" he says.
"Are you following me?" Sanada snaps.
"Ah…" Kirihara scratches at his head. He laughs. "Can I ask you some questions about being a captain and shit?"
Sanada flares his nostrils. He snorts. "You idiot! Why didn't you just email?"
Kirihara's shoulders sink a little. He rolls his eyes. "You changed your number, duh. Only Yanagi-senpai knows it and he won’t share."
Sanada's face feels warmer than it should.
***
Kirihara invites himself over. Sanada tucks the newspaper into a drawer of the step-chest.
"You heard buchou beat that Swedish guy in the first round?" Kirihara asks. "He totally kicked his ass in Sydney!"
Sanada says nothing. Behind his back, he tightens his fist. His skin crawls with heat.
"What do you want?" Sanada asks.
"Uh…" Kirihara looks around the dojo. He runs his finger along the beam of the tokonoma. Sanada's eyes twitches. Kirihara steps toward the glass display of the swords. Sanada sucks in a breath. Kirihara creeps across the tatami floors in grey, grimy sweatsocks. Sanada scowls.
"Did you even bring anything?" Sanada snaps.
Kirihara stops mid-creep. He turns his head. There's a blank little smile slacking to the side. "Uh…sorry?"
"Idiot," Sanada hisses.
"There is stuff I came to know," Kirihara says. He sticks out his lower jaw. His eyes flicker in the weak light. He sits down next to Sanada, smelling of sweat and soap and something vaguely like the felt of tennis balls.
Sanada swallows.
"That was you, right?" Kirihara murmurs. His face leans into Sanada's. Nerves explode over Sanada's body as his mind races.
He goes for stern. The words are thick. "I don't know what you are talking-"
Kirihara's mouth cuts him off.
***
He lies in bed. His fingers tingle, his skin hums. Sanada closes his eyes. His body remembers the soft hair between his fingertips, and the sticky, sweaty skin pressed to his. He remembers the smell of tennis and soap and sweat. His heart pounds, then flutters, then pounds all over again.
***
"Will you come watch the prefecturals?"
"No."
***
The air in the clubhouse stifles. It smells of mold and rank sweat. Heady ozone from the storm seeps under the grimed window. Sanada presses his palm against the glass. He gasps. His legs shake. He leans forward and digs his other hand into Kirihara's hair. Kirihara runs his tongue along Sanada's dick.
His body shudders. Thunder claps outside.
Sanada bites down on his lip, but he groans anyway.
***
"Do you want to go to the arcade and check out-"
"No."
***
Kirihara's tshirt is glued to his back. His hair clings to Sanada's fingers. Cloying saliva sticks their lips together.
"Akaya, not he-"
Kirihara drags his teeth over Sanada's neck. Sanada squeezes his hand around Kirihara's dick. He chokes into Sanada's mouth. Sanada kisses back. A train rattles past. Lights and shadows alternate on the opposite wall.
Between pants, Kirihara says, "No one can see us here." It's a tucked-away corner of a train station, on a Sunday afternoon.
His dick is hot and hard in Sanada's hand. Sanada tightens his grip until Kirihara moans.
***
"Do you want to come visit my grandma's place up in Gumma? There's, like, hiking and fishing and onsens and lots of cool road kill!"
Sanada thinks for a moment.
"No."
***
"He's ranked forty-second now. If he defeats the Italian player in New York," Renji says.
Rain patters on the rooftop. Sanada touches the side of his neck. The skin pulses with faint pain from the bruise Kirihara left.
"Genichirou?"
Sanada grunts.
"Do you miss tennis?"
Sanada doesn't answer.
***
But he opens the drawer, and turns the photograph over. His throat closes up, and his chest shudders.
***
Kirihara breaks a vase in the dojo tokonoma. Sanada calls him an idiot, a fool. He smacks Kirihara across the face. Kirihara punches him back.
He phones Sanada three days later. "Sorry," he grumbles. "Can I pay you back when I get the money?"
"It doesn't matter," Sanada says.
He doesn't ever call back.
***
Sanada records the game on tv. He watches at three am, before his exam. Before anyone else wakes, he deletes the game from the box.
Yukimura lands in the top thirty. It was his fluid serve against the Serbian that won it.
Sanada lands into the university program.
***
Renji catches his eye during the graduation ceremony. He lifts his chin a little.
Across the row of his classmates, Sanada nods back. He turns back to the principal. He squeezes his hand a little harder around the diploma.
After, underneath the first sakura blossoms, Niou grabs Sanada by the shoulder. Yagyuu says congratulations. Marui grabs his hat and chucks it to Jackal. Jackal passes it behind his back to Yagyuu, who throws it high above their heads. Sanada tries to scowl. Renji says, "This'll be the last time."
Sanada glances around. His throat is thick.
***
In between lectures, Sanada creeps on Mixi. It hasn't been updated in months. The photos are old, and generic. The green of a court in Dubai. A picture taken from a rooftop of Paris, at night. Flowers at the airport in Madrid.
Sanada sighs.
And the following day, he creeps again, just in case Yukimura changed something overnight.
***
The back page of the sports section of the newspaper has a tiny photo on the left. Teen Tennis Champion Tezuka went for Starbucks in Stuttgart with Atobe Corp's heir, Keigo.
Marui has psychology class with Sanada. He shows up on Wednesdays, since lectures are after lunch. "It's a great place to nap," Marui says with yawn.
They go for ramen. Marui hits up the bookstore for the gossip rags. Sanada tells him they're trash. Marui chortles. He points to a page in Friday.
"Guess the rumours about Atobe hittin' on dudes were true." Marui waggles his eyebrows. He pokes his finger into Sanada's chest. "That might explain why he was so into you." He rofls.
Sanada shudders.
***
The clock ticks in the darkness. Frogs chorus outside.
Sanada wonders if Yukimura shuddered at him, that day in the onsen.
In the morning, his pillow is wet.
***
Renji hums. The frown on Sanada's face deepens.
"Well, Atobe certainly did want you-"
"Ugh," Sanada says.
"-to play tennis with him. Clearly, he moved on to Tezuka. That would explain why Sadaharu has not returned my emails in six days and five point three hours."
Sanada blinks. Sasuke slams the door when he comes in. His school bag crashes to the floor. "Oi, old man, is there anything to eat?" Sasuke shouts.
Sanada presses his phone closer. "Inui had a crush on Tezuka?"
"No," Renji says, "Processing this new data must be overwhelming."
Sanada doesn't ask.
***
Yukimura plays Andy Roddick at the Wimbledon semifinals. Sanada sits at the Starbucks in Motomachi with his earbuds in and the video stream on. Yukimura lobs. He should know that Roddick will return a low ball, or a drop shot. He runs to the net.
Instead, Roddick turns his wrist. He hits the ball flat, in the sweet spot. The ball goes deep.
Sanada sucks in a breath. It's match point. His heart slams into his ribs.
Yukimura twists his body. Sweat sluices down his rippling muscles. Heat pools between Sanada's legs. Yukimura bears his teeth.
A backhand wins against his idol.
Roddick retires the following week.
***
Astronomy is the only elective that fits in second year.
The lecture hall has seats for three hundred. Thirty come to class.
Oishi sits down beside Sanada. "Hello," he says.
Sanada nods his head. "Oishi," he mutters.
***
"My sources inform me that there was talk of a Tezuka-Yukimura doubles team for Monaco," Renji says.
"You mean Inui told you," Sanada says.
Renji avoids the question. "They were to be sponsored by Atobe Corp."
Sanada grunts.
"Then Tezuka and Atobe were rumoured to have broken up."
"You're a gossip," Sanada says. He mutters, "Tarundoru" under his breath.
Renji says Kirihara will make his debut in Monaco.
***
He does.
And loses spectacularly. His fit on the court makes the newspapers. His bent and broken racket makes the blogs.
Sanada rolls his eyes.
***
The university observatory has a 6-inch reflecting Cassegrain focus telescope in rural Kanagawa. The rest of the group has left for beers. Sanada writes down the last of his observations.
Oishi stands behind him. He chews on his lip.
Sanada furrows his brow. "The lab report is due next week."
Oishi bends for one last look through the telescope. He sighs. "My favourite constellation is Orion," he says.
Sanada sets his pen down. "I thought it would have been Gemini."
Oishi turns. He shakes his head. "Why would you think that?"
Under his cap, Sanada raises his eyebrows. "Your shadow in tennis. Weren't you and Kikumaru like twins?"
Oishi steps back. His expression flickers. He opens his mouth once, and fails. "We haven't talked in a while. The last I heard he had a girlfriend and was working in Shibuya."
Sanada just says, "Aah."
Oishi laughs to himself, almost nervously. He plays with the hems of his jacket sleeves. "I haven't spoken to Tezuka in ages either. We used to play tennis everyday…"
Sanada says nothing.
The technician tells them that he's closing the telescope down for the night. Sanada picks up his bags. Oishi slings his manbag over his shoulder. They walk halfway to the train station before he suddenly stops.
"So how come you aren't playing tennis with them?" he asks.
Sanada's chest tightens. "Injury," he lies. His face burns.
Oishi lifts his arm. "Me too."
The street is deserted. A lone house glows in the middle of a rice paddy. Above, stars peak through the nebulous glow of Tokyo to the east.
Sanada glances toward Oishi. Oishi smiles back, doesn't turn away. Instead, he leans close, his mouth warm and soft. His hair fangs brush Sanada's cheek when he pulls back.
"Orion is my favourite," Sanada mumbles. "I like his sword."
***
His cell rings. It's an unknown number. Sasuke said he was getting a new phone. Sanada picks up.
The voice is too familiar. Sanada's knees start to buckle. He places a hand on the wall to steady himself.
"Kirihara gave me your number," Yukimura says.
Sanada tries to breathe.
"I hope you'll watch my game on Monday," he says.
Sanada swallows. The words are distant, not his own. "I'm busy," he says. He thinks of the emails from last night, the yakiniku date. He shakes his head. He wants to hang up, but his fingers won't move.
"I'm sorry, you know," Yukimura says. "I was sixteen, and stupid."
Water drips in the stone fountain in the courtyard. The floor boards creak underfoot.
Finally, Sanada whispers, "I know."
***
He stares at the photograph for a long while. Shadows shift across the wall. Rain patters against the window. They hold the trophy between them, almost ten years ago. Sanada's the only one scowling.
He shakes his head, and his lips curl up. That was a good tournament, he thinks. He sets the photo down.
That night, he doesn't dream of shifting muscles, sweaty tshirts, the smell of tennis balls or fields of rooftop flowers.
***
He's twenty-two, a poor university student. He doesn't have the money for grand gestures like flying to Paris to watch matches in the flesh.
Yukimura and Tezuka meet in the third round. They shake hands at the net. Sanada squints at the television. Atobe's in the crowd, just behind Tezuka's coach. Oishi's shoulder brushes Sanada's. His hand does too, in the bowl of curry popcorn.
"Tezuka will win," Oishi says.
Sanada scoffs. "His arm will seize up. Yukimura will win."
Oishi's lips twitch. "Loser pays for yakiniku."
Sanada's nostrils flare, but he's smiling. "Only if there's sauce for the meat."