Fic: Meet Me in the Morning (for anjenue)

[redpocket]

Author/Artist: redpocket
For: anjenue

Title: Meet Me in the Morning
Characters: Atobe/Oshitari/Shishido
Rating: R.

Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is property of Konomi.
Warnings: Implied violence, explicit sex scenes.

Summary: AU, ensemble cast. Oshitari Yuushi lives a privileged life, and he knows it. His mornings are filled with laziness, and his afternoons and nights with indulgence, luxury, and the occasional romp in someone else’s bed. But it’s when he makes the mistake of taking things one step too far that his parents decide he needs to be straightened out. And they won’t be the ones to do it.

Notes: 35,000 words. Very much inspired by one of my favourite movies of all time and not at all written with the intent of basing it in a factually accurate Japan... ^__^;;; Though the academy here is very loosely based on fact. Adoration and thanks to M for looking this over for me at what can only be described as extremely short notice. XD

Anj, this is darker and longer than the story I had intended, and the ‘college roommate-style awkward romance’ feeling you wanted almost disappeared in the process, though I still managed to keep the ‘introspective, get together’ part. I really hope you would have enjoyed reading it nevertheless. I hope it would have lived up to your expectations and hopes; I put my heart into it for you. ♥ ♥ ♥



Oshitari Yuushi had long ago decided that luck was only ever just a matter of the draw - it couldn’t be objectified, or analysed, or broken down into statistics for his father to analyse as he did everything else (including his son). It was merely a matter of touch and go; it was a ‘will she or won’t she?’, a split second early or a split second late, a metre to the left or to the right, a decision made one way or another... and a random thing above all else. You never really knew what was going to happen to you until it did.

The carpet in his father’s study was plush; a Chinese rug he’d had for a couple of years and which Oshitari had once spilt tea on. He’d been seventeen, in a rush to get out of the house and angry that he’d been made to do the maid’s job. But the mistake had earned him a smack on the cheek which had bruised afterwards; just another bad memory he’d acquired and tried to keep at bay when he saw his parents.

A reminder he was to remember his place and the duties and responsibilities it entailed. A reminder that he was never going to be in charge of his own life until his father was long dead and buried. And even then, Oshitari knew he would never quite be free of his family’s shadow.

He knew however, that he wouldn’t be let off nearly so lightly this time. No slap or hit, no matter how hard, was going to pacify his father.

So as the door clicked open, his head snapped up quickly, and he found himself relieved to see his mother. She hesitated in the doorway, worry etched into the lines on her face, and he lowered his eyes again, staring at his knees as he tried not to ball his hands too tightly.

He had been told to wait here the moment he came back home with his mother; his father would follow as soon as he’d made his goodbyes.

“Your father will be home in a moment,” his mother said quietly. “I’ve already tried to speak with him but... you know how he is,” she continued on, and Oshitari saw her feet moving towards him.

“Who told him?” Oshitari demanded, looking up to meet her eyes. But she looked away, clasping her hands in front of her, so close to wringing them that Oshitari wanted to get up and stop her. He hated to see her like this; she was always like this. Always tired and worried and putting up smiles for her husband.

“He found out from Gakuto’s father,” Yukari interrupted, as she rounded the doorway and walked to stand in front of her younger brother. “Apparently Gakuto let it slip during the night. And, dare I say it; you actually deserved it this time Yuushi.”

Her voice was bitter, and her words more so.

“Thanks,” Oshitari almost sneered, brushing his hair back from his face. “And I bet you had something to do with it too.”

“I did not! And what on earth were you thinking, Yuushi?” she demanded, and Oshitari knew she was throwing her hand up before he even looked.

“You don’t think he would have found out eventually?” she questioned, eyes intent and focused on his face. “I know I have no right to tell you how to live your life, but could you at least think before you do these things?”

“I was thinking,” Oshitari spoke up.

“Thinking with your dick, yes,” she snapped back. “Look. You’re nearly twenty-one already. You’re not a kid anymore. You just need to start hanging out with the right people and stop seeing people like Gakuto and Taki and all those other guys who aren’t serious about their futures, okay?”

And she stooped, cupping her hands to his face, as her brow creased and she frowned worriedly at him.

“You have so much to work with. You have so much going for you, Yuushi? But why don’t you think?”

“I told you,” he retorted. “I was thinking. It wasn’t me who initiated it at all - not this time. How did you expect me to turn her down nicely? She’s the daughter of the company’s biggest client! The old man should’ve thanked me for doing him a favour, not dragged me down by my ear and made a scene instead.”

“She’s Miyamoto’s daughter, sure,” Yukari murmured. “But that’s all the more reason to say no, Yuushi. And I don’t believe you when you say you didn’t initiate it; if she started it tonight, it’s only because you’ve been flirting so shamelessly with her for the last month,” she spat out, letting go of his face and standing up, hands on hips.

“All I can say for you is that you’re lucky he walked in on you with a girl. Thank goodness it wasn’t Gakuto or you’d find yourself out on the street in no time flat. At least he’ll probably give you a second chance on this otherwise...”

Oshitari rolled his eyes, slumping forwards further, hands on his face.

Yukari wasn’t wrong.

“You’re his only son,” she reminded him softly, as they heard footsteps on the stairs. “Why can’t you just behave like one sometimes?”

+

“This is your last chance, Yuushi. I told you once and I’ll tell you again; you are to be my successor, but there’s no way that I will ever hand this company over to you if you don’t grow up and start behaving as one. You hear me, boy?” he growled. “Screw this up and I won’t hesitate in removing you from my household.”

He let out a breath, his rasp and ragged breath evident when he started speaking again. “I’ve already spoken to one of my contacts,” he said quickly. “There’s an intake in September. He will submit your contact details on your behalf and you will be shortlisted in two weeks. You will sit the written examination and you will pass it... You hear me?”

Oshitari nodded, standing stiffly in front of the sofa.

“Yuushi, pay attention!” he barked, a hand twitching at his side. “This isn’t my future we’re talking about here; this is yours and you’re on the verge of throwing it away! And for what? For romping around like an ill-educated, uncouth, uncontrolled -”

“And you haven’t ever done the same?” Oshitari retorted quickly. “Unless you’re telling me you’re the Virgin Mary and someone else fathered me? Huh? Because you know, that would make a lot of sense right now, because I don’t see any resemblance between the two of us at all! You keep on -”

He stopped talking suddenly, mouth going slack as he registered the pain of his father’s hand hitting his cheek. It was hot and stinging pain, and he was startled enough that he stumbled sideways, arm instinctively covering his face even as he fell into the sofa.

“Don’t you dare speak about your mother that way,” his father growled. “You will do as I say and you will respect what I say, and you will leave your mother out of it. And until you can prove to me that you understand what it means to be a part of this family, you are not to return to this house.”

He breathed in and out, chest heaving with the exertion. “You will take the written and physical examinations, and you will attend the police college for the next ten months. You will not be seeing Miyamoto Emiko during that time, nor will you be in contact with any of your other... so-called friends. And if, at the end of your training, you’ve proved you’ve grown up, I will permit you to come home and resume your university studies. I should hardly think it would make a difference to your progress given how little I’ve seen you studying up until now anyway.”

Oshitari dipped his eyes to the floor.

“Yes father,” his father boomed.

Oshitari glared at the carpet and swallowed back the lump in his throat. “Yes... father.”

+

The examination hall was large; an old Western-influenced building with white arches and red brick walls; a wooden stage at the front and a small podium on it the stand from which the woman in charge delivered instructions - three tests, three hours, one hundred and fifty questions total.

No talking, no reading time, no writing after the bell was called, no whispering, no phones, no toilet breaks unless accompanied by a staff member. Want anything? Raise your hand. Drop your eraser? Leave it on the floor and we’ll pick it up.

Oshitari looked glumly out the window. He sat at the desk in the last row, in the corner; a good spot from which to observe the other candidates sitting for the exam and wonder what sort of messes they got themselves into to be here; after all, one could hardly aspire to be a police officer. It wasn’t exactly the most well-paid of professions, however noble it might seem.

Hopefully his father would realise soon enough how stupid and pointless this whole exercise would be. But until then... Oshitari did actually have to answer the questions on the sheet in front of him. If anything, getting out from under his father’s eye for a while could have its perks.

+

The police college turned out to be a more isolated than Oshitari had imagined. Bleak, grey drill training grounds marked with white lines, and three-storey buildings with large aluminium-framed windows, and trees at the outer; whether for privacy or inconvenience. The fence looked too high to scale, though whether it was meant to keep people out or people in, Oshitari wasn’t sure.

It was surrounded by residential areas, mostly, but there was a good half-kilometre between the gates of the college and the nearest other building, and even then, there were few shops around here. He comforted himself with the thought that there wouldn’t exactly be much socialising here which would require himself to dress up.

Saturday from midday, and all day Sundays, they were permitted to leave the campus, but had to be back by eleven PM; latecomers would be assigned extra duties and drills as punishments.

+

“Just check your room number and floor, and pick up your belongings where you left them in the hall next door. Your room keys can be collected from the office at the dorm building, and you will be expected to keep those rooms for the duration of this program. There are two to a room, and if you have any problems with room assignments, you may take those matters up with the dormitory manager. Then, if there are no more questions, we wish you success in making it through to the end of the course. Good luck, cadets!”

The introductions to instructors and regulations finished with, the head of the training program had pinned up several A4 lists on the wall pin board in the conference room, and Oshitari found his feet moving towards the lists, just as everyone else did.

There were only six or seven women in the room, from what Oshitari could see, and there were probably about thirty or so men; all pretty young, pretty energetic-looking, but none of them good-looking.

The thought of physical drills didn’t bother him; it was the intellectual side of the course that he suspected would bore him. Police protocol and procedures, legal kinks and quirks, policing issues they might face, and how to write reports - just some of the less interesting things he would dread having to sit through during the next few months.

The only sliver of hope he had left was that his roommate - individual rooms didn’t exist, apparently - wasn’t one of the loud, unintelligent crowd currently jostling each other and joking about strip searches.

Although with his luck running the way it currently was, Oshitari didn’t expect any better.

+

The door lock clicked open with a little trouble, the hinged door creaked open slowly, and Oshitari kicked it the rest of the way open with his foot.

It was pretty much what he’d expected, really. An almost pitiful six by six metre space with a large window between the two single beds, two desks with chairs, what looked to be a built in robe, and another door, which he presumed led to the bathroom. A small fridge sat on a table and the emergency escape map showed three shared kitchens, two lounges and a study room for the floor.

He dropped his bag to the floor and walked towards the window, drawn by the view. It really wasn’t too bad; a little dull perhaps, not much human life to see and absolutely ample numbers of bushes and trees he could resort to counting should he ever feel that bored out of his brain.

“Oshitari Yuushi?” someone asked, and he took a cursory glance back over his shoulder; he already recognised the voice.

“Hey there. Getting acquainted with the view already?” Sengoku asked and strolled further into the room, leaving the door wide open behind him. “It’s nothing special, really, but you’ll have all the time in the world to look at it later,” he winked.

Oshitari raised his eyebrows. “Indeed. Though I do prefer human scenery, on the whole. It’s a little less monotonous.”

“But perhaps also less attractive, once you get down to it,” Sengoku suggested.

“Ugly can be interesting,” Oshitari murmured. “Though I hardly expect to find beauty on the inside, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” he sighed, somewhat conceding the point before Sengoku could argue it. Then he crossed his arms. “So have I done something wrong already? Is that why you’re dropping in?”

It had only been ten minutes since he’d met Sengoku. He suspected they’d be seeing each other quite a bit more before his time here was up though, and if Sengoku wanted to become familiar with the interior of his room, he wouldn’t be the one to complain. He seemed to be the best looking of everyone Oshitari had seen here so far.

“Just a little warning,” Sengoku smiled. “That your room mate has called to say he’ll be late in tonight. We normally wouldn’t let anyone come in after ten, but he’s a special case.”

Oshitari stared at him until Sengoku rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Kid’s mother is in hospital; a long-term case and they don’t expect her to recover anytime soon. According to the father, she took a turn for the worse today but I can’t tell you much more. I’m sure if you buddy up to the kid, he’ll tell you the details,” Sengoku frowned. “But just be nice to him. He should get in around midnight, so just don’t jump the poor guy...”

Oshitari frowned.

“If he interrupts your sleep,” Sengoku finished, flashing a bit of a knowing smile.

“Why do you know so much anyway?” Oshitari questioned carefully.

Sengoku smiled very slightly, as he walked backwards towards the door.

“It’s my job to know about people. You’d better keep that in mind, Oshitari.”

Oshitari waited until he’d disappeared down the hall before kicking the door shut and giving it a good stare. Then he opened the old sash window with a little difficulty, and unzipped his bag to begin unpacking.

His cologne was probably the least useful thing he’d packed, but a couple of sprays had the room smelling less like ten generations of sweaty policemen in training, and more like something decent. Unfortunately the beds, even with a little testing, revealed themselves to be just as uncomfortable as they’d looked at first glance, and worse, one of them squeaked.

Well, Oshitari wasn’t having that one.

+

The old walls were all brick; thick enough that Oshitari could only hear muffled noises from next door. A thump here or there, chatter, banter, laughter, as the guys finished unpacking and tossing stuff into their wardrobe, he assumed. At least they were getting along.

The window curtains nearly completely closed, Oshitari concentrated on the beam of moonlight dividing the ceiling in two; his side and... the other guy’s side.

He had yet to arrive, of course, so Oshitari was still musing on what he’d do if the guy turned out to be just as idiotic as some of his new comrades. Living in the same room didn’t necessitate talking to him, if he did turn out to be that way inclined, but it did mean Oshitari would have a hard time dealing with him day-in and day-out.

What he wouldn’t do to at least have Gakuto or Taki, or even...

He sighed. It was useless thinking of what wouldn’t be. He was stuck here until his father either came to his senses or he lost his.

There was nothing he could do about it right now, but it didn’t stop him thinking of what he’d left behind.

Miyamoto Emiko hadn’t been worth the bother, really. He’d only chased after her because he’d been bored, and because Gakuto had bet him he couldn’t do it. Her giggles had started to get on his nerves after a week, and by the time he’d reached the three week mark and Gakuto was smirking himself stupid, the way she walked irked Oshitari beyond belief - had she no poise at all? Surely her parents would have had her take deportment classes with that wobbly waddle of hers - she was hardly fit to be seen in public.

Still, she’d been better than the ugly mess he was stuck in now. Not a single good face, despite the number of cute backsides he’d seen.

Tired, but not tired enough to slip into sleep yet, he glanced at his alarm clock - 11:39 PM. His roommate wasn’t here yet, still.

He spread his knees a little wider, his hand already at his pyjama waist; he felt the bedspread dip down between his legs and heard the slide of the material against his pyjamas.

Lifting his head to take a peek at the door handle, he decided the guy was unlikely to turn up until the time Sengoku had said, and lifted up the band of his underwear slowly to slip his right hand under and inside. No point in trying to go to sleep on this poor excuse of a bed unless he was tired out first, he decided.

His fingers wrapped around his flaccid cock, he let out a slight sigh and used his other hand to push his underwear away from his balls, getting himself comfortable, hand slowly stroking up and down.

And then he heard a jangling noise coming from right outside his door and tensed, ears pricked. Shit. He was here already.

As quietly as he could, Oshitari pulled his hand from his pants, wincing at the elastic snapping against his stomach. Then he turned over onto his side and pulled the blanket over his head.

A second later, the door creaked open and he heard the overhead lights being turned on. He rolled his eyes to himself; his roommate was going to be one of those idiotic types after all.

+

“So,” Sengoku grinned.

“So?” Oshitari snorted, in anything but a good mood. Sengoku on the other hand was practically sparkling.

“So come down for breakfast in half an hour. It’s written on the timetable,” Sengoku pointed out, knuckles rapping against the back of the bedroom door. “I thought I’d better come and tell you to wake up your roommate since he got in so late...” And he trailed off at the look of annoyance on Oshitari’s face.

“But if you don’t want to do it, I’ll wake up sleeping beauty myself,” Sengoku sighed, pushing the door wide open as Oshitari let his arm fall to his side.

“It’s fine; I’ll do it,” Oshitari frowned, and Sengoku shrugged, but took his leave.

He wasn’t so unkind as to let the idiot sleep in on the first day, after all. Though there was a small part of him which would have liked to see the guy doing a billion pushups as punishment for it. He deserved that many for walking in when he did and turning on the light.

As he took a step towards the bed though, there was a loud clatter, and he looked behind himself to see someone having trouble picking up what looked to be a wooden games board.

“Um... Hey, you,” the man said loudly, grinning.

Oshitari sighed and picked up the board, noting that it was actually a go board.

“Is this yours?” he asked, noticing the way the man’s eyes flicked both up and down the corridor before he answered.

“It is now,” he declared loudly. “Won it this morning from the guys down the hall. Don’t know what I was thinking when I packed, but there’s nothing to do out here at night so I got this from Kamio this morning. Beat him in doing pushups.”

“How trivial,” Oshitari muttered, shoving the board back at the guy.

“Oh, well,” he grinned sheepishly. “I’m next door, by the way. Hope we didn’t wake you up last night. It wasn’t my fault; it was Kaidou. He was being all stupid about putting his clothes away properly so I told him to just shove them in there and that’s when we might have banged the wall a bit.”

Oshitari blinked twice. “Right. And... Your name is?”

“Oh me?” Another stupid grin. “Momoshiro. Momoshiro Takeshi. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Oshitari Yuushi,” Oshitari smiled, before stepping backwards. He noticed a slightly shorter guy with longer, black hair coming towards Momoshiro and wondered if it was the Kaidou he’d mentioned.

“So who’s your roommate?” Momoshiro added loudly, sticking his shoe in the door before Oshitari could close it.

“Don’t know that yet,” Oshitari answered blankly, before kicking Momoshiro’s shoe out with his own and pushing the door shut.

Already showered and into his uncomfortably new track pants and polo shirt, he took the chance to peer down at his new roommate, who either apparently liked sleeping with his head under his pillow or who had actually been awake for the past five minutes while Momoshiro yakked on.

“Morning,” Oshitari said, noting the slight gripping of the fingers against the pillow. If he was pretending to sleep, he wasn’t exactly practised at it yet. “Breakfast is in twenty five minutes. At eight ‘o’clock in the food hall,” he continued. “Are you going to get up?”

Then he let out a huff and plucked the pillow from the man’s hands in a single motion. There was a flutter of his eyelashes, and Oshitari watched the crinkle of the brows, the slight frown on the guy’s face. He was turned away slightly from Oshitari, but it was obvious enough that he was awake and listening.

“Or do you want me to kick you?” Oshitari sighed, putting a hand on the bed to lean over closer to his face. “Because I’m ready and willing right now.”

He wasn’t quite prepared for the guy to open his eyes at that, despite his words, and the sight of the man’s bright blue eyes staring at him so suddenly caused him to jerk upwards.

“Oh good,” Oshitari breathed out, standing up again, hands on hips. “I thought I was really going to have to kick you.”

“Ah... sorry about that,” came the sleepy reply, as the man turned onto his back properly and kicked off his blanket with his legs.

Oshitari watched as he sat up drearily, rubbing at his hair and face and generally looking like a mess.

Sengoku was perhaps right when he’d said Oshitari could cut the guy some slack. He certainly didn’t look good. In fact, if Oshitari hadn’t known better, he’d have said this guy was the one who was on death’s door, not his mother.

“You got here late last night, didn’t you?” he began, unwittingly moving closer again even as he crossed his arms.

“Right. Uh... You were already asleep so I was trying not to wake you up,” he said, looking at Oshitari properly for the first time.

“You didn’t,” Oshitari responded quickly. He hadn’t been asleep in the first place. “But why not come in this morning?” he questioned.

“Oh...”

Oshitari stepped away as the guy shifted to the edge of the bed. He noticed his fingers pressing into the edge of the bed at the question and decided it was a conversation he’d probably best not pursue.

“Anyway, I’m Oshitari Yuushi,” he smiled, holding his hand out.

“Ah right... Shishido Ryou.”

The hand that touched his was warm, but Shishido’s smile was forced, and he barely clasped Oshitari’s hand at all before pulling back, eyes looking past Oshitari as though he wished he would move away.

“I’m going to shower then. Are you already done in there already?” he asked briskly.

Oshitari nodded, slightly confused. He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? Shishido’s reaction hadn’t been quite what he’d been expecting.

He waited around for another ten minutes, but Shishido didn’t come out of the bathroom, and instead, Momoshiro came bursting in the door, his roommate following with a sulky look on his face, and Oshitari found himself dragged down to breakfast whether he’d been ready to go or not.

+

“They say at least one person dies every year trying to get in here,” Kamio said, voice kept low as he glanced at the doorway. One uniformed police officer stood there, though to what purpose, Oshitari wasn’t sure.

“Well I don’t know why they’d die to get in here anyway,” Momoshiro snorted. “The food tastes terrible.”

“Stop thinking of your stomach, idiot,” Kaidou snapped, and Oshitari was inclined to agree.

Momoshiro gave him the impression of a bottomless pit and he hadn’t even known the man for a whole hour yet. Kamio and Kaidou, Momoshiro had introduced to him by jabbing his thumbs at their shoulders, which had gotten him glares and clenched fists from both sides. Short tempered, but they seemed a little more intelligent than Momo, and at least Kaidou had had the manners to eat his food properly instead of half choking on it.

“Why should I?” Momoshiro frowned back. “If they think we’re going to run ourselves ragged here, then we need decent substance to keep up our stamina first.”

“Sustenance,” Oshitari corrected dryly.

“But it’s a good career afterwards,” Kamio interrupted. “They say if you graduate in the top ten, then there’s a chance you’ll be promoted within your first year of work. And apparently if you’re really, really good...”

Oshitari looked at him as he paused, apparently hesitating in dispensing the rest of his gossip.

“What?” Momo asked, through a mouthful of cereal.

Oshitari looked away, disgusted by his lack of manners; really, breakfast was bad enough without his having to see Momoshiro’s half-chewed globs of... whatever this stuff was.

Kamio shook his head in response. “Not telling,” he declared haughtily. “I’m not supposed to know anyway.”

“And who’s ‘they’?” Kaidou asked, a little cautiously.

Kamio shrugged, keeping his eyes on Momoshiro as he spoke. “People I know. People who’re already in.”

Oshitari rolled his eyes to himself, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. Most likely, Kamio didn’t know anyone at all. He was probably just trying to substantiate useless street gossip he’d heard.

At any rate, they were all behaving as though it was some sort of adventure to be here. In reality, Oshitari knew nothing could be further from the truth. There was no excitement being here - it was just one torturous thing after another, as far as he could see. A small, cramped room with Momoshiro and Kaidou for neighbours (he hoped they weren’t going to make a habit of arguing), an academy in the middle of nowhere, and fences too high for him to think about climbing over without breaking a leg or an arm or possibly being electrocuted... Not to mention a roommate with... issues.

A hot roommate, he thought suddenly, surprising himself. Definitely pleasing on the eyes with his figure and his face, but...

Thinking of him, where had he gone to anyway?

+

“You were too asleep,” Momoshiro argued. He jostled with Kamio as they squeezed out the single doorway ahead of Oshitari, both rather desperate to get out of the lecture room just in case they were called back in again.

“Was not,” Kamio argued back. “You were the one with the snot bubble hanging out of your nose!”

“I so was not!” Momoshiro huffed. “Just who’re you talking about? There’s no such thing hanging out of this nose,” and he pointed his finger at it.

“That’s because wiped it on your sleeve before you woke up, Momoshiro,” Kaidou grumbled as he caught up to them.

Oshitari sighed, wondering what bad luck had got him caught up with these three, two of whom were currently stuck in a neck lock.

“You can ignore him,” Kaidou advised him seriously as they watched Momo half strangle Kamio. “He’s used to it.”

“Thank you,” Oshitari murmured, a little sarcastically. “But I find it difficult to ignore a six-foot loudmouth right under my nose. You must have had a lot of practise at it if you can.”

“Too much,” Kaidou grumbled, and they entered the room for their next class - their second official one of the day.

Oshitari could only hope it was a little more interesting than the introductory lecture they’d just had.

For the second time, he looked around, wondering where Shishido had gotten to, but he was nowhere to be seen, and Oshitari frowned, confused as to where he could have gotten to. He’d been insistent on getting here last night, and now he was skipping his classes straight away? Something wasn’t right here.

He sat down next to Kaidou, who acted as a buffer for Momoshiro’s elbows and arm as he and Kamio kept on bickering until Kamio pushed Momo too hard and he toppled into Kaidou’s lap, legs uncomfortably in the air.

Kaidou pushed him forwards and Momo thumped onto the floor.

No one was particularly sympathetic, least of all the instructor, who walked into the room a moment later and took his place up front, hands behind his back and feet spread apart.

“Now ladies and gentlemen, I realise you’re here because you have a specific interest in the law and the policing and upholding of it in the general community,” he boomed. “But before we can implement the law, we must first understand it and understand why, as police officers, we have specific and limited duties within it. We have rules by which we operate and we have limited areas of operation. We do not interfere with the other organisations here, but rather, we must always work side by side with them.”

He frowned and peered around the room, his eyes passing over Oshitari as he did so.

“You are all here because ten months from now, you will comprise an important part of this system. But before I get too far ahead of myself... Who can tell me what sort of legal system we have and how it works?”

Oshitari yawned. This sounded like first year, first semester university to him.

Next to him, Kaidou raised his hand.

“Common law system,” he answered loudly, lowering his voice when Momoshiro sniggered at his eagerness. “The law is upheld by the three arms of government, which are the legislative, divided between state and federal, the executive and the judicial.”

“And where do we fall within that?” the instructor asked.

Kaidou hesitated, shifting in his seat.

“Police simply uphold the law,” Oshitari answered, sitting forwards. Watching Kaidou squirm was just a little bit painful, somehow. “They have only the powers granted to them by the federal or state constitutions or statutes.”

“Which means?” the man walked closer.

“Which means that...” Oshitari stopped awkwardly. Which meant what? “Which means that they must operate within the law and those limitations or freedoms are a reflection of those that the government and therefore society has trusted them with.”

There was an awkward silence as Oshitari reflected on the bullshit sentence he’d just spun and whether it made sense or not. And then the instructor gave a slight smile and pointed two of his fingers at him.

“And there you have it. The first important point to note! What he said was correct, ladies and gentlemen. We work only within the law. We obey the law ourselves, and what we are expected to do within it is not necessarily a reflection of our own personal beliefs or our own morals and values. Instead, what we do is uphold what our democratically elected government believes is correct. And I’m not telling you here that you should or shouldn’t think any law right or wrong; merely that laws change with the times. A hundred years ago, it was still legal to drink alcohol no matter what your age. Nobody gave a toss if you smoked or if you wanted to drag yourself drunk through the gutters on a Saturday night. Yet as our attitudes towards drugs such as alcohol change, we create laws to limit their usage.”

Oshitari sank down into his seat. A hundred years ago, he suspected no one had anything better to do on a Saturday night anyway.

“Where did that come from?” Kaidou whispered in his ear a minute later.

Oshitari turned to him. “Oh, that answer? I made it up.”

And he imagined Kaidou looked just a little bit impressed.

There was a snort above him, and a moment later, Shishido sat down next to him, arms crossed. “If everyone made up crap like that, no one would ever learn anything at all,” he frowned.

“It wasn’t crap,” Oshitari objected, his feathers ruffled. He hadn’t noticed Shishido come in at all. “And where have you been all morning?” he questioned, changing the topic. “You weren’t at breakfast and you skipped class.”

Shishido blinked. “You noticed.”

“Of course I...” Oshitari trailed off, feeling foolish. “I thought maybe you’d gone back to sleep,” he lied.

Shishido shook his head. “He sent me to see -”

“He?” Oshitari cut him off, frowning.

“Sengoku... The dorm manager.” Shishido answered slowly, scowling momentarily. “He sent me to see the head of training here.”

Oshitari opened his mouth to ask why, but as he did so, he noticed the sudden silence in the room and the stare he seemed to be getting from the instructor - what was his name again anyway?

“If you’re finished with your conversation,” he drawled. “then the class will now continue. If you’re not, then you’re welcome to step outside and start running laps to acquaint yourselves with the grounds. You’re not in here to chat.”

Oshitari stared back, meeting the man’s gaze. Personally, he’d have preferred the laps. At least he’d have been free of the stuffy atmosphere in here. But looking sideways at Shishido, he could tell he was intent on staying inside.

He was slightly disappointed.

+

Their first marching drill practice was an awkward, uncoordinated affair, made worse by the fact that Oshitari was positioned next to Momoshiro, who was behind Kamio, who was next to Kaidou. Shishido stood in front of Oshitari, who didn’t know anyone else, but didn’t feel perfectly at ease with the guy behind him intruding his space and huffing down his neck constantly.

The entire thing dissolved into a farce once Kamio and Momoshiro had been reprimanded twice (Momo for deliberately stepping all over Kamio’s heels, and Kamio for halting in the middle of marching so that Momo walked straight into him), and they ended up all jogging laps around the track field while their instructors barked like mad dogs at the two culprits.

Oshitari might have felt inclined to sympathise with them (drills were hardly the most exciting things after all) if he hadn’t thought they’d have been over and done with them faster if Momo and Kamio had just kept to themselves.

“Oshitari!”

He turned his head a little, seeing Shishido speeding up to catch up to him.

Slowing his own feet, he waited until Shishido was beside him.

“About this morning,” Shishido began, looking him in the eyes.

“Hm?”

“Thanks for waking me up.”

Oshitari smiled a little. “No worries. Sengoku told me to.”

“Oh...” Shishido frowned. “Did he... Did he say anything else?”

Oshitari shook his head quickly. “Nothing you couldn’t tell me yourself, if you wanted to,” he answered, slightly slyly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shishido asked. On the defensive already, Oshitari noted.

“Just that if you feel like talking, I’m right across from you,” Oshitari sighed. “Since we’re going to be in the same room for the next ten months, I thought I could at least be of use to you, and you seem like you could use someone to talk to.”

Shishido looked away.

“Nothing much to talk about,” he insisted, and as he caught Oshitari’s eye, looked away again stubbornly.

“What’s nothing?” Momoshiro suddenly interrupted, with a slap to Oshitari’s back and a hand in his hair.

“What happened to your punishments?” Oshitari asked dryly.

“Oh,” Momo nearly stopped jogging, puffing his chest out almost proudly. “I didn’t get one. He said he’d let us off today but we have to catch up all the laps you guys have done while we were being told off plus another fifteen.”

“Isn’t that punishment enough?” Oshitari snorted, “considering the size of this field?”

“I can do it easy,” Momoshiro retorted, almost as though he were offended, and raced off ahead of them.

“Idiot,” Shishido muttered.

“Indeed,” Oshitari agreed.

“I heard he ranked the second highest in the fitness tests to get in here,” Shishido said, looking to Oshitari for confirmation.

He shrugged back. “I didn’t know there were rankings. Enlighten me.”

“There are,” Shishido snorted. “You must have taken the fitness test.”

“But I don’t remember anything about results,” Oshitari responded, honestly trying to remember.

“You didn’t do too badly in it either,” Shishido added, looking away again when Oshitari raised an eyebrow. “I saw you take the test while I was waiting for my turn,” he added awkwardly. “We were in the same group to sit the written exam too, you know.”

“I had no idea,” Oshitari mused, smiling slightly at the irony. So Shishido turned out not to be quite so distanced as he’d thought.

“Yeah, well. I remember you dropped something and picked it up yourself,” Shishido snorted, and Oshitari blinked. This boy got more and more interesting.

They must have been sitting close by, then, since he didn’t remember seeing someone turning around to watch him; the invigilators would have had a fit if anyone had. Yet Shishido’s short brown hair didn’t jog anything in his memory, and he was sure if he’d seen anyone who looked like him, he’d have remembered.

“So you were watching me?” he questioned.

Shishido looked distinctly embarrassed for a moment, and for just a split second, Oshitari entertained the thought that he might have been interested in exercises... of a rather different sort.

But then he blurted out an “I was sitting right next to you,” and Oshitari nearly fell over his own feet.

+

“I still maintain that hair length has nothing to do with whether or not we pass the course,” Oshitari protested, and touched his hand to his hair almost as though to check it was still there.

It was, of course. He could still feel the tickle of it against the back of his neck. In less than five minutes, though, it wouldn’t be.

“What did you think? They were going to let you go all the way through with that mop hanging into your eyes? Don’t you know it’s dangerous if you’re out on the tactics set and you have hair sticking into your eyes? Of course, you could always pull it up into a ponytail, but I don’t think that would work with you. Maybe you could do three or four or maybe you could plait it like a girl. That might work, but then if you plaited your hair like a girl, wouldn’t your helmet not fit on your head anymore? And then what would you do if -”

“Shinji,” Kamio frowned, appearing beside them. “Shut it.”

“Oh, look who it is,” Shinji mumbled, continuing on with his monologue. “You’re just in a bad mood because they’re going to chop off your hair so you can actually see what you’re doing for once. I told you you should have cut it off before.”

Kamio thwacked him over the head lightly. “Shut it, I said. Before I shut it for you,” he grumped, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and slouching. “You mop,” he added under his breath.

Shishido snorted at the two of them, amusement flitting over his face.

“Just because you like looking like a porcupine,” Kamio spat at him, a blush rising in his face.

There was a flicker of anger on Shishido’s face; just a momentary crease of the brows and downturn of the lips; a flash in his eyes that Oshitari caught, and which sent a shiver down his spine.

“Better than looking like you, y’ugly mutt,” Shishido frowned back at Kamio. “It’s not like you could get any uglier with that face of yours.”

“You...” Kamio growled, but was pushed back by Momo.

“Cadet 17769!” someone shouted from inside the room, and Shinji pushed ahead of Shishido and Kamio.

There came the noise of the clippers; humming, cutting, and a grunt, and Oshitari watched as Shinji’s long strands of black hair fell to the floor; a slightly uneven number two now making him look less like a mop and more like a furry cleaning cloth.

“Are you always so agreeable?” Kamio scowled at Shishido, tilting his head up even though he was a good two inches shorter. Height had never been a discouragement to him, apparently.

Shishido ignored him, gave a snort and stepped backwards a bit, leaning into the wall next to Oshitari. His arm brushed against Oshitari’s.

“Hey, hey I was talking to you,” Kamio frowned, huffing a bit. But he looked about ready to let it go, until Shishido met his eyes and responded.

“I didn’t notice. It’s kind of hard to see you when you’re talking from down there.”

Oshitari nearly smiled, but any amusement he felt was cut short by the flash of movement he saw and then the sudden punch to his back he felt; hard, sharp and painful, leaving him with a throbbing sensation running over his skin, and a feeling of breathlessness. And as he slumped slightly against Shishido, he realised with a shock that he’d moved in front of him, not even knowing he’d done it.

“O-Oshitari...” Kamio stammered. “I didn’t...”

Oshitari grunted, feeling Shishido’s hand go around his waist. He sucked in a slightly ragged breath and shot a dirty look at Kamio. “It wasn’t that hard anyway. You punch like a girl.”

Kamio let his mouth fall open slightly. “D-Do not!”

“Cadet 17771! Cadet 17771!”

“My turn,” Oshitari grimaced, Shishido’s hand around his back as he straightened up and tried not to show the pain. Damn, that had hurt.

And as he dropped down into the barber’s chair, he closed his eyes and wondered just why he’d done that; why he’d taken the hit when Shishido so obviously deserved it. Why had he covered for him?

He was slow to leave the room once he’d finished, and stood and watched as the barber stared at the strange haircut the guy after him - one Ooishi Syuuichirou - had.

In the end, he simply pulled out a pair of scissors and snipped off the long strands hanging down his forehead - the least drastic haircut of any of them - yet Oshitari still noticed Ooishi determinedly trying not to show his anguish at his loss.

And then it hit him - Shishido. He had been sitting next to him at the exams, but he’d had long hair, not the cropped short mess he had had when he arrived here.

+

“Sorry, they wouldn’t give me any more ice packs without me telling them what I wanted them for,” Shishido muttered.

Oshitari grunted, lying flat on his stomach on the bed, shoulders in the direct line of the air conditioner, and his skin pimpled with goose bumps.

He breathed in sharply as Shishido touched his hand to the small of his back, fingers touching and prodding. He was gentle, and his touch nothing more than inquisitive and tentative, but it already seemed like an eternity since Oshitari had had anyone else touch him there, and he shivered at the warmth on his skin.

“Does it hurt anywhere else? Or is it just where he hit you?” Shishido asked. “Maybe you should’ve gone to the infirmary. They could’ve -”

“No,” Oshitari frowned. “They would’ve asked me where the hell I got such a big bruise.”

Shishido pressed the ice back to his skin, but even wrapped in the tea towel he’d nicked from the kitchen, Oshitari’s back hurt too much to leave it sitting there for more than a minute at a time. “Hey...” he grunted. “Can you...?”

“Oh, right,” Shishido winced, lifting up the cold pack momentarily. He poked a finger at the swollen patch, dark red even in the poor yellow-ish dorm light.

“He has a pretty short fuse, that guy,” he commented, frowning.

Oshitari twisted his neck as far around as he could to see Shishido, and he smiled a little wryly as he watched the expressions on his room mate’s face. “And you’re not much better yourself,” he commented.

There was another flicker of annoyance there, he thought, and Shishido immediately placed the cold pack back, sitting back on his chair and putting his hands on his spread knees.

“And?” he asked.

“And... You know what they say about short people, and about redheads,” Oshitari mused, teasing. “But what’s your excuse?”

Shishido’s eyes narrowed a little, before he pushed himself up, turning quickly to go back to his own bed and drop down. “It’s just the way I am.”

Just the way he was?

Oshitari winced as he lifted off the cold pack again, Shishido apparently having decided he’d had enough nursing for the night. But as he watched Shishido pull his knees up and reach his arm over for a magazine, he wondered if there wasn’t more to the story than that.

If only he could stop himself from teasing for long enough to have a serious conversation.

“Hey,” Shishido sighed a moment later. He dropped his magazine back onto the bed and stared evenly at Oshitari, head comfortably on his pillow as he crossed one leg over the other. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I...?” Oshitari blinked.

Shishido was staring intently at him.

“You don’t really like being here, do you,” Shishido frowned. “And you’re a law student, right? Kaidou told me that. So why are you here? To be admitted here, you’re supposed to have finished a uni degree already, not to mention you’d make more money finishing your law degree first.”

Oshitari closed his eyes. “Law is five years at university. You really think anyone would go through five years of torture just to be eligible for this training course to become a police officer?”

“Well that’s my point,” Shishido retorted. “You’re not really here ‘cause you want to be. And... You must have some sort of connection, right? Otherwise they wouldn’t let an undergraduate in like this.”

Oshitari let a slight smile creep onto his lips; he had to give the guy credit. He was sharp.

“You’re right,” he admitted, murmuring into his pillow. “I have no intentions of dropping out of my university course, and... it wasn’t my personal choice to be here at all.”

“So why come at all?”

There was an edge to Shishido’s voice now; a hardness that made Oshitari’s chest feel tight and constricted. It was the same edge his father’s voice sometimes took on; disappointment, confusion, frustration.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he answered, and listened as Shishido snorted.

“Everyone has a choice, idiot.” Then there came the sound of material rustling, and footsteps going towards and out of the door.

Oshitari opened his eyes and buried his face in his pillow, staring unfocused at the white-grey patterns in front of his eyes. What were choices anyway?

+

Shishido was generally in the room at night before Oshitari. But on the nights he wasn’t, Oshitari found himself wandering the hallways of the dorm, staring down out of the windows at the courtyard on one side, then walking to the shared lounges and staring down at the thin paths and the trees on the other side, before the fence that cut them off from the outside, as they’d started to call it.

That night, when he rounded the doorway and began walking across to the lounge window, he startled to realise Kaidou was sitting in front of him, almost unnoticeable at first in the corner chair with a book in his lap.

“Oshitari,” he nodded.

Oshitari returned his greeting. “You’re reading?”

Kaidou gave a quick nod, never one to mince his words or waste time, Oshitari had realised. Well, only with Momoshiro did he waste his time and breath, but Momo seemed to be the exception to Kaidou’s every rule, so that was no surprise.

“He’s down there with Ooishi,” Kaidou murmured, before dipping his eyes back down to his book and not looking up again.

“Who?” Oshitari asked quickly, though he’d already walked towards the window, hands on the ledge as he pushed up the glass so he could peer out properly.

He didn’t really need Kaidou to answer.

The lights down there were just enough that Oshitari could recognise Shishido, standing up against a tree trunk, and Ooishi walking over to him, and then, as he watched, he saw the way Shishido reached out and caught Ooishi’s arm. They stayed like that for a second, both of them frozen, even as Oshitari realised they must have been speaking; he could see Shishido’s lips moving.

Then Shishido looked upwards, a frown on his face as his eyes connected with Oshitari’s, and Oshitari ducked back in so fast he nearly fell backwards. His chest ached as he walked back to his room, not even bothering to wish Kaidou a good night, and when Shishido returned to their room ten minutes later, neither of them spoke about it.

He couldn’t help the feeling that Shishido somehow detested him. How else could he explain it?

+

September was a hot month. The heat of summer lingered on far too long and the air conditioning unit in their room was far too loud for Oshitari’s liking. If they left it on during the nights, it took him an hour to drift off with the mechanical noise right next to his head, but if they turned it off, they sweltered, and he sweated and his sheets stuck to his skin like wet paper.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could hear Shishido snoring lightly.

If he tuned out, he could hear the static in his ears, and the occasional bangs and hisses that came from the room next door, almost always followed by an apology and a bowed head from Kaidou the next morning. Momoshiro however, was less apologetic, blaming everything on his roommate and his obsession with keeping their clothing separate, no matter how much Momo insisted it didn’t matter if he borrowed Kaidou’s sweat pants for a day or two.

Oshitari didn’t dare shift Shishido’s things around or touch them. The magazines he left dropped and discarded by the bed, he let sit there. The track pants he was always slow to pick up on laundry days, Oshitari left where they were, and if Shishido shut the curtains at night, Oshitari left them that way, even if he found himself unsettled in the darkness.

The worst nights though, were not the ones when Shishido shut the curtains and left the room in pitch black darkness.

The worst ones were the ones when Oshitari woke in the middle of the night, incessantly needy dreams of Gakuto or of his ex-boyfriends and girlfriends on the fringe of his consciousness until he peeled off his bedding and tiptoed to the bathroom, and hoped that he’d been quiet enough that Shishido wouldn’t so much as crack open an eyelid even when the old floorboards creaked. He shut the door, hand so carefully on the handle so he could slide the bolt across and then leant his back against the wall, hands first going to his face, fingers rubbing the sleep from his eyes, then dropping down to the front of his shorts.

When he exited the bathroom, he always turned the light back off before he opened the door, always afraid of seeing Shishido awake and catching his eye afterwards. He couldn’t understand why; he just didn’t want Shishido to see him this way, didn’t want him to see the shame on his face. It was the same shame that twisted itself through his stomach and made it hard for him to breathe. And it got worse as the days went on.

+

Atobe came later, of course, and for a long time, Oshitari had no idea what the man’s name was.

All he knew was that he was there, late at night at the end of September, just before the curfew time for the dorms, walking along the corridors of their lecture building.

Oshitari had no excuse to be there the first time - he’d simply been out walking, avoiding going back to his own room. He’d frozen still at the sound of a pair of sharp footsteps coming around the corner towards him, and before he knew it, he’d lost his moment to duck into the classroom, instead finding himself face to face with someone he’d never seen before.

“Cadet,” he stopped walking, staring at Oshitari sharply.

A frown as Oshitari snapped to attention, a little slow off the mark.

The man’s lips curved upwards slightly then, an amused little smirk causing Oshitari’s chest to tighten slightly.

“Oh, don’t mind me. You know you’re not supposed to be in here at this time of night, but I’ll let you off this time. It’s the guy around the corner you have to watch out for,” he said, stepping closer.

“Thank you sir,” Oshitari answered, not bowing his head but instead lifting his chin a little.

Their eyes met evenly; they were the same height and Oshitari held his gaze even as the man’s smile widened.

Wavy strands of pale hair stuck out from the sides of his hat, the rim sitting against his forehead and leaving a slight line when he lifted it off, ruffling his hair with his hand.

“And you are?” he asked, voice low.

“17771, sir,” Oshitari saluted quickly, bold enough to ask the man in return.

But all he got was another slight smirk, and a self-satisfied look as he slipped his hat back on again. “Well, it wouldn’t do to tell you, would it? I’m not supposed to be here either, after all.”

And he turned quickly and walked off down the hallway ahead of Oshitari, his trousers clinging to his arse so perfectly snugly and his uniformed blue shirt so perfectly ironed and pressed that Oshitari wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about uniform fetishes. Not to mention the handcuffs holder he could see a flash of metal through.

+

Marching drills - the most monotonous of the monotonous, Oshitari decided. The worst thing about them being that he couldn’t even close his eyes, block his ears and sleep his way through them unlike he could with pointless lectures.

The only redeeming element to them was the fact that he’d been shifted around and was now positioned at the furthest right in their row, with Shishido to his left, instead of behind him. Momoshiro and Kaidou were now next to each other, but Kamio and Shinji and Ooishi were further up front now, and as they turned ninety degree corners, Oshitari could just see the glares on their faces if he turned his head (which, technically he wasn’t meant to do at that point).

As they went through their exercises, sweaty in the hot sun, trickles of sweat running down from their temples to their cheeks and chins, he could feel Shishido’s arm brushing his, not keeping his own line as straight as he should have been. Any further right and he’d be bumping Oshitari out of line too.

“Shishido,” he hissed under his breath as they marked time on the spot. “You’re too far right.”

He could see Shishido checking his position out of the corner of his eye, seeing the quick glance downwards, but apparently so did their instructor.

“17784! Keep your head up!” he barked loudly. “The next person out of line will be doing a hundred chin-ups!”

Next to him, Oshitari felt Shishido jolt straight upright, and saw the flitter of embarrassment pass over his face.

In front of them, Momo snorted. “A hundred’s nothing! I can do two hundred easy.”

Kaidou kicked his leg and Momo stomped on his foot in retaliation.

“And if you get me angry enough, you’ll be doing them one-handed!” the instructor glared, a prickling, cranky mess, not unlike half the cadets under his command. “Now, quick march!”

“Idiot,” Kaidou hissed to Momo, and even Oshitari winced at the venom in his tone.

Momo just huffed and didn’t say any more.

“Old geezer,” Oshitari breathed out, as they started moving again. He was getting good at talking without moving his lips much; if nothing else, soon he’d be good enough at talking with his mouth closed that he could call his father an idiot while still smiling at his face.

“He’s had us out here for more than an hour already,” he went on to Shishido, under his breath. “When’s he going to let up? Does he want us to start dropping like flies before he’ll let us go?”

They watched as he fanned himself with his hand, face bright pink and sweaty in the afternoon heat.

Shishido grunted. “You’re wasting your breath,” he scowled. “If you really want to say that, why don’t you yell it out to him and see what he says.”

Oshitari snorted back. “Well, I might just do that then.”

“Don’t,” Shishido snapped, his hand suddenly on Oshitari’s arm, his skin burning hot where Shishido touched him.

He startled, not being able to help turning his head fully to stare at Shishido, and the next thing he knew, they were being called to a halt and he was being yanked out of line by the back of his shirt.

“17771,” the instructor growled, and jabbed his finger out, pointing towards the all too familiar concrete blocks with bars secured to the sides. “A hundred chin-ups. Now.”

Oshitari shook his head as he jogged off, glancing back to see Shishido smiling amusedly, and beyond him, a familiar man leaning out of one of the office windows to watch the cadets practising still, his arms on the ledge and his cap in his hand, hair falling into his eyes even as he brushed it away.

+

“Hey,” Oshitari slid into his seat opposite Kamio quietly. “Have you heard anything about a new instructor or any changes to our classes lately?”

The breakfast hall was noisy as usual, the old trestle tables being pushed and tipped and jolted as people took their seats rowdily, carelessly.

Kamio’s shake of the head was definitive, and Oshitari found himself disappointed, frowning as he played with his spoon. Whatever happened to Kamio and his inside gossip?

“Why? Have you heard something?” Kamio questioned eagerly. “I wonder if they’re replacing Minami for tactics yet. I heard he was being transferred out of the college to work on an actual case or something.”

Oshitari frowned. Their strategy and tactics classes were the only classes where he found he learnt anything which would be of any use to him after this whole thing was over. That was, if he ever wanted to climb out his bedroom window to escape the house or if he wanted to get from one end to the other without being seen.

Minami was without doubt, his favourite instructor of them all, and if he was going, then just who were they replacing him with?

It couldn’t have been the man he’d started seeing around, he thought. He seemed too young for the position; probably someone else’s lackey. Everyone here seemed to grovel to someone else higher up, he mused.

But as things turned out, he was wrong.

+

Continue to Part II~