FIC: We'll Always Have Kanagawa, YukiSana, NC17 (2/4)
Title: We'll Always Have Kanagawa (2/4)
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Yukimura/Sanada + others
Wordcount: 26 000
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Everything you can possibly imagine. Not for the weak of heart-or of mind. Spoilers for 40.5 and the entire manga series.
Summary: Sanada is a girl. Yukimura kinda likes it.
Author's notes: This is related one-shot fic to Dénoument. The fics can be read separately, but they make more sense together. Written for Yukimura's birthday 2008. Happy Birthday Yukimura!
This fic has been truncated into 4 parts due to length. The parts are NOT chapters. [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]
Comments are most welcome.
2. First Interlude
Sometimes Sanada is a complete bitch.
He snarls and snaps some days. He stomps into tennis practice and glowers at the captain. It was one thing when he was a guy: Niou and Marui and Akaya would joke behind his back. But as a girl, he's just a bitch.
Certain days of the month, he gets angry when Yukimura takes a ball from the basket first. Sanada cries if Jackal and Marui are on a court that he asked the fukubuchou to hold for him.
Yukimura doesn't always know what to do. He says nothing. He rides Sanada's waves of emotions with a nod or a monosyllabic, "It's okay" or "Sorry for your trouble". He doesn't kiss Sanada-he did that once and Sanada slapped him-when Sanada's on his period. Yukimura pats his back and offers an arm-and his avocado rolls at lunch.
He prefers the other twenty-seven days of the month when Sanada doesn't smell like strange florals and pop painkillers the way Marui pops sticks of gum. He prefers the other days when Sanada blushes and looks away and mumbles about homework. On those days, Sanada comes back to his apartment. They do homework and eat snacks. Sanada is heavier as a girl, but his waist is small.
Yukimura runs his hands down Sanada's side to tickle his ribs. Sanada's rare laughter is a reward to his ears.
But when his mother is off at the grocery store, Sanada's moans are even sweeter. He rides Yukimura's dick and squeezes his thighs. His breasts bounce and he throws his head back. Yukimura kneads Sanada's bum, digging his hands into the soft, yielding flesh as he gasps and grunts.
He leaves the lights on in his bedroom. Sanada's skin glistens with sweat and Yukimura's frantic kisses. Sanada's skin flushes, pink on his pale stomach. The skin on his breasts is translucent. Yukimura can see the tiny blue veins in spider webs underneath. He presses his hands, his face, his dick in the valley between Sanada's breasts. Yukimura comes on the smooth skin.
He can never get enough.
***
Yanagi ruins his team, and the three of them.
Yukimura smiles when he tells the team Akaya's news, but he balls his fist around the department store bag in his hand. Sanada carries a bunch of balloons. They stream red and pink and white and yellow, bouncing on the top of the train carriage. The hit the doors of the hospital too.
Sanada doesn't say much. Yukimura gags at the smell of chemicals and bleach in the room. He tells Akaya to open a window. Akaya refuses. "The baby will get cold," he says. Yukimura fans his face. The room gets warmer. The walls close in. He can't breathe.
He exhales when they leave the hospital. The warm summer air is cool compared to the stifling hospital. Yukimura didn't say much. Yanagi lay there with a satisfied smile. Yukimura never did that. He closes his eyes and remembers the nurses and doctors and the smells of death and the beeping clicks of his oxygen machine.
"-have children. Tennis will be virtually impossible for him…"
A shuddered breath escapes his lips. Yukimura leans against a cement pylon. His back shakes. Sanada touches his arm and says, "Let's get ramen."
They eat in a noodle bar inside the train station. It is the first place Sanada sees and it will do. Yukimura orders a big bowl of ramen and a pepsi. He can taste the bleach on his tongue. Sanada sits beside him. He scoots his stool closer and their thighs touch. Yukimura swings his foot. His sneaker taps Sanada. Sanada looks at him. His cap is in the way, so Yukimura chucks it and laughs. Sanada's hair is flat and Yukimura wants to stroke it.
"I don't like hospitals," Yukimura says.
Sanada stops slurping. He ducks his head and mutters that he knows.
The regionals are coming up. Yanagi won't play with them. Yukimura thinks about this and frowns. "Don't be nervous about the regionals," he says. His stomach swims like the ramen in his bowl.
Sanada nods.
Yukimura can taste the green onions in his mouth all night.
***
Atobe leers at Sanada. He watches Sanada when the teams meet at the nets. His megane teammate loses because he stares at Sanada's chest and big thighs instead of the ball. Atobe stares from the stands. His eyes follow Sanada. His mole crinkles. His gaze is long and lingering-he undresses Sanada on the court.
Yukimura purses his lips. He plays Atobe. Anger changes his game. He seethes through his shots and Atobe takes advantage of it: Atobe tosses his head back to Sanada. He winks at Sanada. He wants Sanada.
Yukimura smashes the ball between Atobe's legs. His wrist hurts. The Hametsu no Rondo skimmed his skin and burned it. His eyes flash and the ball arcs overhead. Yukimura swings hard. He nearly hits the ball into Atobe's shin three times.
They shake hands at the net, but Yukimura's stomach is unsettled. His eyes flick down the line. Sanada jerks back from Atobe's handshake. He flushes. Yukimura grinds his teeth. Atobe smirks and he stares at Yukimura with narrowed eyes.
Yukimura cuts through the sports park. He runs past his team and follows a trail of blue jerseys. Atobe waits under a gazebo. He picks his nails. Yukimura picks his nose. His jaw is tense and his footsteps grind into the pavement.
Atobe yelps when Yukimura shoves him against a wooden post. "Don't you DARE touch my fucking girlfriend!" he snaps. Atobe crawls back on his toes. His eyes flash. Yukimura pushes again, slamming Atobe back a second time. "Leave Sanada alone!"
"Don’t get your panties in a twist," Atobe drawls. Yukimura whips his head around. His fingers tighten in Atobe's shirt. He wants to choke Atobe's smirk from his face. Atobe chuckles. "If I wanted a girlfriend, I'd date a real girl."
Yukimura hears his name called. He lets Atobe go. Atobe brushes his shirt off-he mutters something under his breath, but Yukimura doesn't hear. His ears ring with the words. His heart pounds and his blood races. He cracks his knuckles and Sanada asks if he's okay.
The temperature is hot. Yukimura smells like sweat. Sanada's back is damp. Outside the train station, Yukimura stops. The team goes on. He looks at Sanada and his insides are on fire. His dick burns. Sanada grabs his hand and they go.
He blows his allowance on six hours. His hands shake with the room key. Sanada presses up against his back and pants. Yukimura falls into the room.
Sanada sucks him off first. Yukimura yanks his hair and moans. Sanada gags and licks. His mouth is wet and hot and tight and Yukimura digs his hands into Sanada's shoulders before he comes.
Christmas lights flash-alternating red and green and white-and they glow on Sanada's naked, sweaty body. Yukimura shoves him to the bed. It creaks as he crawls over Sanada, hot skin pressed to hot skin.
You're a girl, he thinks.
He bites Sanada's nipples. Sanada gasps.
You're a girl, he thinks.
He fingers Sanada's cunt. It's wet and tight around his two fingers. He strokes the inside and curls his hand up. Sanada bucks.
"You're a girl!" he hisses.
He fucks Sanada hard. His cock pounds. Their bodies slap together. Sanada cries his name and his hands twist Yukimura's skin. Yukimura pushes deeper, faster until he comes again.
It's not enough. Sanada lies on the bed. His face is wet and he rolls away from Yukimura. Yukimura grabs his shoulder and flips Sanada onto his back again. He rubs Sanada's clit. Sanada tells him to stop. He pushes his dick inside. Sanada whimpers. "No, Seiichi…I can't…"
Yukimura fucks Sanada until he can't move. He sucks Sanada's engorged nipples until Sanada sobs and begs him to stop. His fingers push inside Sanada's cunt until he's dry and Yukimura's fingers go numb. He rubs Sanada's breasts until they are speckled red.
"You're a girl," he whispers. "Atobe was wrong."
***
It hurts to pee in the morning.
It hurts to practice tennis.
Yukimura walks through the school halls with bow legs.
Sanada minces his steps.
Their eyes meet at lunch. Marui chortles and pats Yukimura on the back. "You're a stud, ne?" he says.
Yukimura raises an eyebrow. But he returns the smile.
***
Before the Nationals, Niou stops coming to practice. If he was a regular, Yukimura would chew him out.
Yagyuu disappears too. He phones the following morning and says, "I have to tell you something, Yukimura." They agree to meet at the 24/7 café by the subway station at seven. Yukimura asks why not at morning practice. Yagyuu is silent.
Yagyuu has messy hair and dirty glasses. The sun hovers on the horizon, gold and amber-tinged. Yukimura eats a mochi his mother packed in his bento. Yagyuu has dark circles under his eyes. He rubs the top of his nose, right about his glasses.
"Is Niou sick?" Yukimura asks.
Yagyuu swallows. He takes a deep breath. He takes his glasses off. "Niou-kun had a baby on Tuesday."
Yukimura stares.
"It's mine," Yagyuu says. His voice is thick and choked up. "I can't come to practice for a while. I wanted to apologize in person." He walks away.
The mochi falls from Yukimura's hand.
***
"What the hell is wrong with everyone!?" Yukimura shouts. He stomps around the clubhouse. "We're in HIGH SCHOOL! Why are they all having BABIES!?" He throws his hands into the air and screams.
Sanada frowns.
"Why don't their parents WATCH THEM after school?" he yells. Yukimura groans. "We have tennis to play," he says. His skull hurts. Pressure pounds inside his eyes. He rubs his temple and sits down on the wooden bench.
"It's ridiculous," Sanada grumbles. He sighs and sits down on the other end of the bench. Yukimura grinds his teeth until his jaw hurts. Sanada is quiet. Marui slinks into the change room behind them and ducks out with his backpack. He says nothing to them.
"You know what it is?" Yukimura says. He looks to Sanada. Sanada stops playing with the hem of his tennis skirt. "It's tarundoru, that's what it is."
Sanada doesn't return Yukimura's smile.
***
The lineup is terrible. He's slated for singles one, the position that never plays. Two mediocre seniors are in singles two and three. Sanada dumped in doubles.
"What the fuck is this?" Yukimura yells. He grabs the roster from the captain and waves it. "If we play this lineup, we'll lose!" He wants to strangle the captain when he responds.
"You're not in charge, Yukimura. Watch your mouth around your senpais."
They lose. Yukimura doesn't play. The captain gives him 500 laps for mouthing him off again.
Yukimura runs them all in silence. Sanada counts them. He stands and waits as the sun settles in the west. Long purple shadows cast over the school courts until the floodlights blast on.
His legs are jelly. His body is on fire and he sweats cold. They buy bentos at a conbini and stop in a park. It's dark. Sanada shovels his rice down. Yukimura picks at his tempura. It's soggy.
He shakes his head. "Is my form terrible?" he whispers. His throat is thick with mucus. He wipes his nose with his hand and sniffles. "He put my in singles one because…because it's punishment for something."
Sanada says no. He touches Yukimura's lips and brushes a crumb away. Then he kisses Yukimura. "You don't have to win everything," he says.
Yukimura furrows his forehead. He doesn't understand what Sanada is talking about, but he lets it slide. Defeat reminds him too much of junior high school. He left that behind: his disease, loss, everything. It's supposed to be different now.
The air is humid and the trees rustle with a soft wind. The grasses swish under their feet as they walk through the park towards the bus stop. Yukimura looks at Sanada. Sanada doesn't frown. He doesn't scowl or drag his feet, even though he lost his doubles match.
He leans up against Yukimura's arm and pushes him sideways, just a bit. Yukimura stumbles. He blinks. Sanada laughs and catches his mouth in a kiss.
In bed, at home, Yukimura wishes he had the courage to tell Sanada he's grateful to have him as a girlfriend. Instead, he stares at his glowing cellphone until the first crows caw at dawn.
***
In art class, they have an assignment to draw the portrait of a classmate. Yukimura sketches a friend. The picture is nothing special and the pencil smudges in his bag before he hands the work into the teacher.
He has a sketchbook at home in the bottom of his desk drawer where his family would never look. He asks Sanada to come over. They don't have sex-his mother is home. Sanada sits on the edge of Yukimura's bed and looks at him. He takes his cap off and plays with the brim.
If Yukimura was bold, he might whisper for Sanada take off his clothes. Sanada would flush and mumble that it's not right-his family is home-but he would be beautiful in his refusal.
Yukimura sighs. The world isn't ideal. He lost the Nationals again. Sanada randomly turned into a girl one day.
He picks up a soft leaded pencil.
"Are you doing combustion reactions?" Sanada asks.
Yukimura remembers asking Sanada about homework. A chemistry textbook peeks out from Sanada's bag. He shakes his head. "No, just sit there," he says. "We were doing live models in class and…" Yukimura lifts his eyes. Sanada lowers his.
"Can I draw you?"
Sanada keeps his clothes on. He squirms and blushes. Yukimura bites a smile back and tells him to sit still. The pencil glides over the paper. His hand smears the lines and curves of Sanada's body. Yukimura's pants feel tight. He wiggles in his chair.
"Lie back a bit more," he murmurs.
Sanada leans back against his pillows. He sighs and licks his lips. His mouth is parted. His gaze wavers and his eyes refuse to focus on Yukimura. Yukimura shades in dark pupils and skims over the light reflecting on Sanada's lips. He draws Sanada's bent knee, enticing and revealing when his skirt falls back on his thigh.
Yukimura enters the drawing into the school art competition. He names it Composition #1 and wins first prize.
Sanada never goes to see it.
***
They play tennis. They go out for ramen. They go over to Yukimura's place and have sex sometimes. Usually, his mom is home. His sister has cram school to get into Rikkai's junior high school stream and his dad is off on business trips to America and Brazil and sometimes Belgium.
"She's kind of…manly," his mom says.
Yukimura frowns. "What do you mean?"
His mom passes the rice bowl. "Well, your girlfriend has gorilla arms, Seiichi. And she doesn't shave her legs very often. Are you sure that-"
Yukimura slams his fist down on the table. "It's none of your business!" he snaps. His mom rolls her eyes and starts to speak. Yukimura slams his first down harder. "Just leave me alone!"
He runs to his bedroom and slams the door. He stews all night. He sends Sanada a text message. I wanna see u naked now. Sanada doesn't respond-he's probably asleep in bed.
Sanada comes home with Yukimura after tennis practice. It's cold enough for scarves again. Yukimura wraps his around twice. Sanada ties his at the front. It dangles over his breasts. Yukimura watches the fringe sway as Sanada walks.
His mother raises an eyebrow at them and asks if they're hungry. Yukimura glares at her. He holds Sanada's hand tight and says, "No." Sanada's stomach grumbles.
Yukimura drags Sanada to his room and he slams the door. The walls shake. Sanada looks at him. His brow scrunches up. Yukimura walks up to him and touches his forehead. He smoothes the lines out with his fingertip. He rubs his erection on Sanada's leg.
"Your mother's here," Sanada says.
"Good," Yukimura says. Sanada shakes his head. Yukimura smiles. He lifts the skirt of Sanada's jumper and pulls it up over Sanada's head. His blouse catches. Sanada shivers. In only a blouse and underpants, he looks pretty-even prettier when he bites his bottom lip and his voice catches.
"Yuki- Seiichi, we can't!"
Yukimura runs his hands over Sanada's breasts. His nipples stiffen under Yukimura's palms. He kisses Sanada's neck and licks the chill off his skin. His hands roam over Sanada's curves. The buttons are stiff in his fingers, but Sanada helps shrug the blouse off.
The tv is on in the main room. Stupid mother, he thinks. Music strains from a drama almost-but not quite-muffle the sounds Sanada makes when Yukimura pulls him on top of his body. Sanada straddles his hips. He moans. Sanada mewls and clutches his breasts, kneading them as he leans forward and sinks onto Yukimura's swollen cock. Sanada gasps. Yukimura thrusts. The mattress springs squeak and groan under their bodies. Sanada bounces and his breasts move. Yukimura swings a leg up over Sanada's hip to get deeper and push further. The sound of his foot smacking Sanada on the side makes Sanada yelp. The mattress groans again.
The tv volume goes up. The voices are louder, the music is stronger. Yukimura sinks deeper into the pillows and deeper into Sanada. Sanada whispers, "No, no, you have to- stop! Ughnn…"
Yukimura slides a hand between their bodies. Sanada sobs. He moves his fingers around the slick, hot flesh to find that little spot. Sanada shakes, and then he's gone.
Yukimura groans when he comes.
After, he wraps Sanada's arm around his shoulders and rubs his leg on Sanada's calf. It's prickly. It's not very feminine, but the soft, round breasts squished against his ribs are.
His mom never mentions Sanada's gorilla arms again.
***
There is an exhibition on at the city art gallery, Impressionist Nudes. It is their first official date. At lunch time, Marui winks and reminds Yukimura not to forget the condoms. Yukimura tells him to shove off, but he laughs too.
He bought a box last night. He and Sanada don't remember to use them very often anyway.
Yukimura got the tickets last night, too. He plays tennis with Yagyuu during practice. He showers at home and uses wax in his hair-just a bit, in case Sanada frowns and complains about his hands being sticky. He wears his lucky underpants and his favourite black jeans. Jackal gave him a hat to borrow. "I don't need them anymore anyways," he muttered.
The sight in the mirror looks good. Yukimura winks at himself. His reflection waggles his eyebrows. Genichirou won't be able to resist! his reflection says.
"Darn right," Yukimura murmurs. He grabs his coat and slides his feet into the leather shoes his father bought at the duty free airport in Paris for him. Maybe Sanada will grumble about fashion, but he doesn't complain when Yukimura rings the buzzer at his home.
Sanada's mouth hangs open. Sanada's mom offers Yukimura hot milk tea and tells Sanada to go wear that pretty outfit she got him. And use that other stuff. The blush that stains Sanada's face makes Yukimura's insides hot.
Sanada wears normal pants, but his lips are glossy. He hides under his cap and scarf as they walk to the train station. Yukimura holds his hand and squeezes Sanada's mitten. "You look nice," he says.
Sanada grunts.
They hold hands at the gallery too. It's mostly old people, and them. The guards raise their eyebrows: two teenagers, one shuffling awkwardly behind the other. Sanada refuses to leave his coat at the check. He refuses to take it off when Yukimura offers to hold it.
"Why?" he asks.
Sanada mumbles "Tarundoru." Yukimura shrugs.
The first paintings make his heart flutter. The fleshy nudes with their pale, pink-tinted skin stand and lay down. They sit and squat and pose. Sometimes they brush their long hair: gold, brown, black. Sometimes they stare back, sometimes they are demure. Sanada stares at the floor. Yukimura looks at the paintings. His cock twitches.
The painted breasts sag. Some are perky. Some are nothing more than a hint behind a posed arm-the swell is enticing. Yukimura mouth is dry. He reads one or two labels to Sanada, but the French words are hard to pronounce. Sanada says nothing.
Courbet is the star of the show. Connoisseurs mass around it, speaking with fancy words Yukimura doesn't understand: oeuvre and reposoir and tour de force and réalisme. He can see over the heads of the old ladies. Sanada refuses to look. His face is on fire. Yukimura squeezes his hand.
When the crowd passes, they step forward. "This is my favourite," he says. He looks at the painting, and then to Sanada. His cock throbs. Blood rushes in his ears. Yukimura's head floats. He closes his eyes and sees Sanada lying there, his legs spread out and his cunt exposed-
Sanada makes a little noise. He chokes. He takes one look at the painting and turns away. The Japanese Impressionist works are the only paintings he doesn't turn away from. Yukimura swats Sanada with his hat. "You're so old-fashioned," he says. He laughs. Sanada scowls. Yukimura smiles and rolls his eyes.
Together, they have 5800 yen.
"We could eat ramen," Sanada says. "There's a place open until eleven-"
"I have a better idea," Yukimura says.
***
The love hotel is cheap and the sheets are musty.
Sanada writhes. His feet dig into the mattress. He gasps. Yukimura licks. "Do you know why I liked the Courbet?" he asks. He bites the inside of Sanada's thigh-the skin is too soft, too white. He can't stop himself. He bites harder. The skin bruises.
Sanada cries and begs with his hands. He pulls at Yukimura's hair. He squeezes his legs together and spreads his knees at the same time. Yukimura curls his tongue inside Sanada's cunt until Sanada comes.
Sanada lies boneless on the bed. His breathing evens out. Yukimura jerks himself off. Sanada offers a limp hand to help. Yukimura comes on his fist. They lie together on the musty sheets. Their bodies are sticky and feverish. It feels good.
"That's why I liked the Courbet," he murmurs.
***
His fortune for the New Year:
A lot of good luck.
Yukimura gives Sanada a nengajo the first day they go back to school. He drew the comic tennis ball himself. Sanada flushes and murmurs thank you.
"That looks like a Moyashimon," Niou says. He leans over Yukimura and Sanada. He smells like sour milk.
"Go away," Sanada grumbles.
Sanada tacks the nengajo up in his tennis locker. His textmessage reads: I like moyashimon. they r cute. lets brew!
Yukimura never knew Sanada had a sense of humour. He saves the message and spends biology class doodling microbes in his notebook.
***
He practices in the gymnasium with the balls machines. Stupid captain, Yukimura thinks. There's no such thing as no tennis in winter!
A ball punches out. Shwoop!
He steps back and swings wide. The ball makes contact in the centre of his racket. Yukimura hits a straight shot.
He doesn't stop until his arm throbs. His muscles slacken. His arm droops at the side of his body. Yukimura rolls his shoulder and walks through the winter chill back to the clubhouse. Lights are on inside. He pushes the door open. The air is acrid and sharp and it makes him sneeze.
Jackal and Niou sit on the bench. Their shoes and socks are tossed across the floor. Their feet are propped up. Little bottles and rumpled kleenex litter the spaces between them.
"Um," Niou says.
"Uh, it's not what it looks like," Jackal says. He leans forward to grab the bottles. His hand is careless-two bottles fly across the floor. One shatters and spills red nail polish in a puddle.
Yukimura closes the door behind himself. Sanada walks up to him. His breath clouds the air and crystallizes on the spot. Sanada says, "What?"
"Do you paint your toes?" Yukimura asks.
"What?"
Yukimura shakes his head. "Nothing."
***
On Valentines, Sanada walks up to Yukimura's locker with a blush across his cheeks. They just finished stretches for an indoor morning practice. Snow dusts the empty courts. Yukimura's footsteps are a lonely path across the baseline.
He looks at Sanada and his dick hardens. Sanada mumbles something about Valentines Day. He wears the cherry blossom hair pin. Yukimura's heart swells. He takes the box from Sanada. There are too many people around in the hallway and he isn't brave enough to kiss Sanada in public here. Besides, Sanada would probably slap him.
"Thank you," Yukimura says. Sanada licks his lips. He isn't wearing his cap and his black hair is glossy. Yukimura reaches out to touch it, but he stops himself when Sanada blinks.
"I have to go to class," Sanada mutters. He rushes off. His bum wiggles as he walks. Yukimura smiles.
Other girls give him giri choco in class. Their boxes are prettier than Sanada's: department store perfection with crisp edges and red velvet. He says thank you and collects the pile in the bottom of his school bag until there is no more room. Then, Yukimura stacks the other boxes in his desk. The girls giggle and skip and call him Yukimura-san. They blush and flash coy smiles. They have long hair, permed hair, and wear red, sticky lip gloss.
They are girls through and through.
At lunch, he and Sanada sit on the rooftop. Sanada curls against Yukimura's side, underneath Yukimura's wool coat. He chews on his onigiri and offers Yukimura a slice of cold, grilled beef. Today, they both brought bentos from home.
Yukimura props one knee up. He leans on it and opens the box of chocolates. "No thanks," he says, "I have these."
Sanada's face is red. He buries it under the collar of Yukimura's coat. The sounds of his chewing stop.
A sheet of transparent rice paper flutters to the ground from the box. Yukimura picks it up and turns it over. His heart patters, doki doki doki doki as his eyes read the characters. The strokes are bold and black and thick, but the words are as delicate as the first spring blossoms.
I love you.
Yukimura's throat thickens. He reaches to Sanada and squeezes his shoulder. Sanada says nothing. Yukimura looks out across the school campus. The view from up here is wide and sweeping. Green grass peeks out from under bare trees. The air is heavy with pollen and promise.
Sanada's chocolates are sweet and smooth. Yukimura eats them one by one, all sixteen before the lunch bell rings.
He hands Marui four plastic bags at tennis practice. "Enjoy," he says.
The other chocolates would never compare to Sanada's.
***
One week before his sixteenth birthday, Sanada invites him for dinner. After tennis practice, they hold hands. The forest near Sanada's house is filled with early chirping birds and green bamboo. The skeletal trees have tiny shoots on their fingers. Yukimura weaves his fingers between Sanada's and squeezes. They don't need mittens today.
The dojo is drafty. Sanada wears a hakama and poses. He strikes a straw dummy and poses again. His breathing is regular and even. His motions are specific and skilled. Yukimura takes a pair of scissors from his bag. He trims the miniature bonsai plants near the window. Sanada doesn’t know how to shape the leaves properly.
Sanada changes in the dojo. "Can you…?" He holds up one of the ties. His eyes are black and liquid. Yukimura undresses him-the hakama peels away the layers like an onion. Sanada shivers. His skin is milky in the dying light. Yukimura kisses his shoulder. Sanada sighs. Yukimura pushes his bra strap away.
Sanada places a hand on top of his. "Not now," he says. "It's almost supper."
Sanada's mother smiles at Yukimura. She has softer features than Sanada and a smaller, sagging chest. She has a frilly pink apron and she smells homey, like rice and frying fish. Yukimura likes her. He praises her food (even though it's only okay) and she flushes.
Just like Sanada.
Sanada's brother always asks Yukimura if Genichirou makes a good girl or not. "He's got the rack, but not the attitude, know what I mean?" He waggles his eyebrows and Sanada chokes. Yukimura frowns. He doesn't know what Sanada's brother means.
"It's so nice that you are such a good friend to Genichirou," Sanada's mom says. A cat rubs against Yukimura's leg. He sniffles. The cat paws at his thigh. It looks up at him with plaintive eyes. Yukimura bites back a sneeze.
"I mean, that you can accept Genichirou however he is," Sanada's mom adds. "Mom!" Sanada snaps. Sanada's brother laughs. Sanada's father falls over in his chair. He's been nursing beers all evening.
Sanada's grandfather scowls.
Yukimura smiles and nods. "He's only changed on the outside. I wouldn't be a very good friend to abandon him because he's a girl now."
"Not a girl," Sanada grumbles.
"Explain the tampon box in the bathroom," his brother says. Yukimura blinks and flushes. Yuck, he thinks.
After they finish, Sanada looks over his shoulder. His eyes catch Yukimura, and then his head turns toward the stairs. His cheeks are pink. Yukimura's stomach flutters. Sanada's bedroom is upstairs. He pushes his chair into the table and thanks Sanada's mom for supper.
Her back is turned as she cleans plates. Yukimura pads to the stairwell, but something strong and fast like the wind smacks his leg. He hears a faint whoosh. Then his calf explodes in pain. Yukimura hisses.
Sanada's grandfather's cane rattles on the floor. In Yukimura's ear, he snaps, "You're too young to be dating my grandso- Genichirou!"
Yukimura shifts his eye to the side. Sanada's grandfather is in his face. He smells like herbal cough medicine and mothballs. He grabs Yukimura by the back of his collar. Yukimura swallows. His stomach sinks. Sanada's grandfather grumbles, "Too young! Tarundoru!"
Sanada closes the door behind them in his bedroom. Yukimura rubs his neck. "What did Grandfather say to you?" Sanada asks.
Yukimura kneels down beside Sanada. His skirt fans out across the futon. Yukimura touches the inside of Sanada's thigh. Sanada's eyes flutter shut. His lips part, ready for the kiss that comes.
Against Sanada's waiting mouth, Yukimura murmurs, "Nothing important."
***
"You know what I need?"
Yukimura looks at Marui. Instead of practicing his swings, Marui leans on his racket. The racket frame scrapes the clay court. Yukimura's eye twitches.
"A brain?" Niou offers.
Marui ignores him. "I need a truck. A big ass Ford truck."
Yukimura blinks. "Why?"
Marui holds up a finger. "Because, my dear Yukimura, chicks in American movies dig dudes with big Ford trucks. The biggest American truck I can get."
"You can't drive," Yanagi says. Marui doesn't take Yanagi too seriously, not when Yanagi has a baby strapped to his chest.
"You're not American," Yukimura says. "And you can't drive."
Marui rolls his eyes. His racket scrapes the ground. Yukimura winces.
"I have American things. I have Converse sneakers. I have Leebais. AND," Marui waggles his finger. He unzips his jacket. Niou calls uncle. Marui pushes his jacket open. "My t-shirt. Is this not the most American thing you have ever seen?"
Jackal walks up. He reads the t-shirt out loud. "I heart M.Y.C.?" Marui's jaw drops and Jackal rolls his eyes. "The letter is wrong, and no, I still wouldn't date you if you had the biggest Chevy in Japan."
***
In the change room, Marui asks, "What's a shebbi?"
Yukimura shrugs his shoulders. "Dunno."
***
On White Day, Yukimura swallows his pride and his nerves. He tells Sanada, "I love you, too."
Sanada doesn't hear. He moans. His skirt is bunched around his waist and his legs wrap around Yukimura. The storage shed creaks. Water drips from the roof outside and it smells like musty equipment and sex. Yukimura thrusts into Sanada's cunt. Sanada squeezes hard around his dick and Yukimura gasps. He whispers it again. Sanada's chest heaves with a sob.
He kisses Sanada-their noses bump and their teeth clack. His mouth is sloppy. Sanada leans back against the wall. His hands dig into Yukimura's shoulder. Yukimura hisses and pushes deeper. He grunts and comes.
The cherry blossom pin has slipped in Sanada's hair. Yukimura wipes his hand on his track pants. He pulls them up, then he reaches to Sanada's head. Sanada's hair is soft and damp. The pin slides back into place.
They play tennis after on one of the streetcourts between Yukimura's house and the high school. Sanada's skirt flips up. Yukimura can see Sanada's shorts underneath and the swell of his hips. He still wears y-fronts. Sanada smashes balls and his breasts bounce. Yukimura sweats and laughs and uses a rising shot in defense.
There is a bench on the side of the court. They sit together and pant. Rackets sink to the ground under the haze of a mauve sunset. Yukimura grabs Sanada's hand. He nibbles on the tip of Sanada's fingers until Sanada blushes.
It's the best White Day ever.
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Yukimura/Sanada + others
Wordcount: 26 000
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Everything you can possibly imagine. Not for the weak of heart-or of mind. Spoilers for 40.5 and the entire manga series.
Summary: Sanada is a girl. Yukimura kinda likes it.
Author's notes: This is related one-shot fic to Dénoument. The fics can be read separately, but they make more sense together. Written for Yukimura's birthday 2008. Happy Birthday Yukimura!
This fic has been truncated into 4 parts due to length. The parts are NOT chapters. [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]
Comments are most welcome.
2. First Interlude
Sometimes Sanada is a complete bitch.
He snarls and snaps some days. He stomps into tennis practice and glowers at the captain. It was one thing when he was a guy: Niou and Marui and Akaya would joke behind his back. But as a girl, he's just a bitch.
Certain days of the month, he gets angry when Yukimura takes a ball from the basket first. Sanada cries if Jackal and Marui are on a court that he asked the fukubuchou to hold for him.
Yukimura doesn't always know what to do. He says nothing. He rides Sanada's waves of emotions with a nod or a monosyllabic, "It's okay" or "Sorry for your trouble". He doesn't kiss Sanada-he did that once and Sanada slapped him-when Sanada's on his period. Yukimura pats his back and offers an arm-and his avocado rolls at lunch.
He prefers the other twenty-seven days of the month when Sanada doesn't smell like strange florals and pop painkillers the way Marui pops sticks of gum. He prefers the other days when Sanada blushes and looks away and mumbles about homework. On those days, Sanada comes back to his apartment. They do homework and eat snacks. Sanada is heavier as a girl, but his waist is small.
Yukimura runs his hands down Sanada's side to tickle his ribs. Sanada's rare laughter is a reward to his ears.
But when his mother is off at the grocery store, Sanada's moans are even sweeter. He rides Yukimura's dick and squeezes his thighs. His breasts bounce and he throws his head back. Yukimura kneads Sanada's bum, digging his hands into the soft, yielding flesh as he gasps and grunts.
He leaves the lights on in his bedroom. Sanada's skin glistens with sweat and Yukimura's frantic kisses. Sanada's skin flushes, pink on his pale stomach. The skin on his breasts is translucent. Yukimura can see the tiny blue veins in spider webs underneath. He presses his hands, his face, his dick in the valley between Sanada's breasts. Yukimura comes on the smooth skin.
He can never get enough.
***
Yanagi ruins his team, and the three of them.
Yukimura smiles when he tells the team Akaya's news, but he balls his fist around the department store bag in his hand. Sanada carries a bunch of balloons. They stream red and pink and white and yellow, bouncing on the top of the train carriage. The hit the doors of the hospital too.
Sanada doesn't say much. Yukimura gags at the smell of chemicals and bleach in the room. He tells Akaya to open a window. Akaya refuses. "The baby will get cold," he says. Yukimura fans his face. The room gets warmer. The walls close in. He can't breathe.
He exhales when they leave the hospital. The warm summer air is cool compared to the stifling hospital. Yukimura didn't say much. Yanagi lay there with a satisfied smile. Yukimura never did that. He closes his eyes and remembers the nurses and doctors and the smells of death and the beeping clicks of his oxygen machine.
"-have children. Tennis will be virtually impossible for him…"
A shuddered breath escapes his lips. Yukimura leans against a cement pylon. His back shakes. Sanada touches his arm and says, "Let's get ramen."
They eat in a noodle bar inside the train station. It is the first place Sanada sees and it will do. Yukimura orders a big bowl of ramen and a pepsi. He can taste the bleach on his tongue. Sanada sits beside him. He scoots his stool closer and their thighs touch. Yukimura swings his foot. His sneaker taps Sanada. Sanada looks at him. His cap is in the way, so Yukimura chucks it and laughs. Sanada's hair is flat and Yukimura wants to stroke it.
"I don't like hospitals," Yukimura says.
Sanada stops slurping. He ducks his head and mutters that he knows.
The regionals are coming up. Yanagi won't play with them. Yukimura thinks about this and frowns. "Don't be nervous about the regionals," he says. His stomach swims like the ramen in his bowl.
Sanada nods.
Yukimura can taste the green onions in his mouth all night.
***
Atobe leers at Sanada. He watches Sanada when the teams meet at the nets. His megane teammate loses because he stares at Sanada's chest and big thighs instead of the ball. Atobe stares from the stands. His eyes follow Sanada. His mole crinkles. His gaze is long and lingering-he undresses Sanada on the court.
Yukimura purses his lips. He plays Atobe. Anger changes his game. He seethes through his shots and Atobe takes advantage of it: Atobe tosses his head back to Sanada. He winks at Sanada. He wants Sanada.
Yukimura smashes the ball between Atobe's legs. His wrist hurts. The Hametsu no Rondo skimmed his skin and burned it. His eyes flash and the ball arcs overhead. Yukimura swings hard. He nearly hits the ball into Atobe's shin three times.
They shake hands at the net, but Yukimura's stomach is unsettled. His eyes flick down the line. Sanada jerks back from Atobe's handshake. He flushes. Yukimura grinds his teeth. Atobe smirks and he stares at Yukimura with narrowed eyes.
Yukimura cuts through the sports park. He runs past his team and follows a trail of blue jerseys. Atobe waits under a gazebo. He picks his nails. Yukimura picks his nose. His jaw is tense and his footsteps grind into the pavement.
Atobe yelps when Yukimura shoves him against a wooden post. "Don't you DARE touch my fucking girlfriend!" he snaps. Atobe crawls back on his toes. His eyes flash. Yukimura pushes again, slamming Atobe back a second time. "Leave Sanada alone!"
"Don’t get your panties in a twist," Atobe drawls. Yukimura whips his head around. His fingers tighten in Atobe's shirt. He wants to choke Atobe's smirk from his face. Atobe chuckles. "If I wanted a girlfriend, I'd date a real girl."
Yukimura hears his name called. He lets Atobe go. Atobe brushes his shirt off-he mutters something under his breath, but Yukimura doesn't hear. His ears ring with the words. His heart pounds and his blood races. He cracks his knuckles and Sanada asks if he's okay.
The temperature is hot. Yukimura smells like sweat. Sanada's back is damp. Outside the train station, Yukimura stops. The team goes on. He looks at Sanada and his insides are on fire. His dick burns. Sanada grabs his hand and they go.
He blows his allowance on six hours. His hands shake with the room key. Sanada presses up against his back and pants. Yukimura falls into the room.
Sanada sucks him off first. Yukimura yanks his hair and moans. Sanada gags and licks. His mouth is wet and hot and tight and Yukimura digs his hands into Sanada's shoulders before he comes.
Christmas lights flash-alternating red and green and white-and they glow on Sanada's naked, sweaty body. Yukimura shoves him to the bed. It creaks as he crawls over Sanada, hot skin pressed to hot skin.
You're a girl, he thinks.
He bites Sanada's nipples. Sanada gasps.
You're a girl, he thinks.
He fingers Sanada's cunt. It's wet and tight around his two fingers. He strokes the inside and curls his hand up. Sanada bucks.
"You're a girl!" he hisses.
He fucks Sanada hard. His cock pounds. Their bodies slap together. Sanada cries his name and his hands twist Yukimura's skin. Yukimura pushes deeper, faster until he comes again.
It's not enough. Sanada lies on the bed. His face is wet and he rolls away from Yukimura. Yukimura grabs his shoulder and flips Sanada onto his back again. He rubs Sanada's clit. Sanada tells him to stop. He pushes his dick inside. Sanada whimpers. "No, Seiichi…I can't…"
Yukimura fucks Sanada until he can't move. He sucks Sanada's engorged nipples until Sanada sobs and begs him to stop. His fingers push inside Sanada's cunt until he's dry and Yukimura's fingers go numb. He rubs Sanada's breasts until they are speckled red.
"You're a girl," he whispers. "Atobe was wrong."
***
It hurts to pee in the morning.
It hurts to practice tennis.
Yukimura walks through the school halls with bow legs.
Sanada minces his steps.
Their eyes meet at lunch. Marui chortles and pats Yukimura on the back. "You're a stud, ne?" he says.
Yukimura raises an eyebrow. But he returns the smile.
***
Before the Nationals, Niou stops coming to practice. If he was a regular, Yukimura would chew him out.
Yagyuu disappears too. He phones the following morning and says, "I have to tell you something, Yukimura." They agree to meet at the 24/7 café by the subway station at seven. Yukimura asks why not at morning practice. Yagyuu is silent.
Yagyuu has messy hair and dirty glasses. The sun hovers on the horizon, gold and amber-tinged. Yukimura eats a mochi his mother packed in his bento. Yagyuu has dark circles under his eyes. He rubs the top of his nose, right about his glasses.
"Is Niou sick?" Yukimura asks.
Yagyuu swallows. He takes a deep breath. He takes his glasses off. "Niou-kun had a baby on Tuesday."
Yukimura stares.
"It's mine," Yagyuu says. His voice is thick and choked up. "I can't come to practice for a while. I wanted to apologize in person." He walks away.
The mochi falls from Yukimura's hand.
***
"What the hell is wrong with everyone!?" Yukimura shouts. He stomps around the clubhouse. "We're in HIGH SCHOOL! Why are they all having BABIES!?" He throws his hands into the air and screams.
Sanada frowns.
"Why don't their parents WATCH THEM after school?" he yells. Yukimura groans. "We have tennis to play," he says. His skull hurts. Pressure pounds inside his eyes. He rubs his temple and sits down on the wooden bench.
"It's ridiculous," Sanada grumbles. He sighs and sits down on the other end of the bench. Yukimura grinds his teeth until his jaw hurts. Sanada is quiet. Marui slinks into the change room behind them and ducks out with his backpack. He says nothing to them.
"You know what it is?" Yukimura says. He looks to Sanada. Sanada stops playing with the hem of his tennis skirt. "It's tarundoru, that's what it is."
Sanada doesn't return Yukimura's smile.
***
The lineup is terrible. He's slated for singles one, the position that never plays. Two mediocre seniors are in singles two and three. Sanada dumped in doubles.
"What the fuck is this?" Yukimura yells. He grabs the roster from the captain and waves it. "If we play this lineup, we'll lose!" He wants to strangle the captain when he responds.
"You're not in charge, Yukimura. Watch your mouth around your senpais."
They lose. Yukimura doesn't play. The captain gives him 500 laps for mouthing him off again.
Yukimura runs them all in silence. Sanada counts them. He stands and waits as the sun settles in the west. Long purple shadows cast over the school courts until the floodlights blast on.
His legs are jelly. His body is on fire and he sweats cold. They buy bentos at a conbini and stop in a park. It's dark. Sanada shovels his rice down. Yukimura picks at his tempura. It's soggy.
He shakes his head. "Is my form terrible?" he whispers. His throat is thick with mucus. He wipes his nose with his hand and sniffles. "He put my in singles one because…because it's punishment for something."
Sanada says no. He touches Yukimura's lips and brushes a crumb away. Then he kisses Yukimura. "You don't have to win everything," he says.
Yukimura furrows his forehead. He doesn't understand what Sanada is talking about, but he lets it slide. Defeat reminds him too much of junior high school. He left that behind: his disease, loss, everything. It's supposed to be different now.
The air is humid and the trees rustle with a soft wind. The grasses swish under their feet as they walk through the park towards the bus stop. Yukimura looks at Sanada. Sanada doesn't frown. He doesn't scowl or drag his feet, even though he lost his doubles match.
He leans up against Yukimura's arm and pushes him sideways, just a bit. Yukimura stumbles. He blinks. Sanada laughs and catches his mouth in a kiss.
In bed, at home, Yukimura wishes he had the courage to tell Sanada he's grateful to have him as a girlfriend. Instead, he stares at his glowing cellphone until the first crows caw at dawn.
***
In art class, they have an assignment to draw the portrait of a classmate. Yukimura sketches a friend. The picture is nothing special and the pencil smudges in his bag before he hands the work into the teacher.
He has a sketchbook at home in the bottom of his desk drawer where his family would never look. He asks Sanada to come over. They don't have sex-his mother is home. Sanada sits on the edge of Yukimura's bed and looks at him. He takes his cap off and plays with the brim.
If Yukimura was bold, he might whisper for Sanada take off his clothes. Sanada would flush and mumble that it's not right-his family is home-but he would be beautiful in his refusal.
Yukimura sighs. The world isn't ideal. He lost the Nationals again. Sanada randomly turned into a girl one day.
He picks up a soft leaded pencil.
"Are you doing combustion reactions?" Sanada asks.
Yukimura remembers asking Sanada about homework. A chemistry textbook peeks out from Sanada's bag. He shakes his head. "No, just sit there," he says. "We were doing live models in class and…" Yukimura lifts his eyes. Sanada lowers his.
"Can I draw you?"
Sanada keeps his clothes on. He squirms and blushes. Yukimura bites a smile back and tells him to sit still. The pencil glides over the paper. His hand smears the lines and curves of Sanada's body. Yukimura's pants feel tight. He wiggles in his chair.
"Lie back a bit more," he murmurs.
Sanada leans back against his pillows. He sighs and licks his lips. His mouth is parted. His gaze wavers and his eyes refuse to focus on Yukimura. Yukimura shades in dark pupils and skims over the light reflecting on Sanada's lips. He draws Sanada's bent knee, enticing and revealing when his skirt falls back on his thigh.
Yukimura enters the drawing into the school art competition. He names it Composition #1 and wins first prize.
Sanada never goes to see it.
***
They play tennis. They go out for ramen. They go over to Yukimura's place and have sex sometimes. Usually, his mom is home. His sister has cram school to get into Rikkai's junior high school stream and his dad is off on business trips to America and Brazil and sometimes Belgium.
"She's kind of…manly," his mom says.
Yukimura frowns. "What do you mean?"
His mom passes the rice bowl. "Well, your girlfriend has gorilla arms, Seiichi. And she doesn't shave her legs very often. Are you sure that-"
Yukimura slams his fist down on the table. "It's none of your business!" he snaps. His mom rolls her eyes and starts to speak. Yukimura slams his first down harder. "Just leave me alone!"
He runs to his bedroom and slams the door. He stews all night. He sends Sanada a text message. I wanna see u naked now. Sanada doesn't respond-he's probably asleep in bed.
Sanada comes home with Yukimura after tennis practice. It's cold enough for scarves again. Yukimura wraps his around twice. Sanada ties his at the front. It dangles over his breasts. Yukimura watches the fringe sway as Sanada walks.
His mother raises an eyebrow at them and asks if they're hungry. Yukimura glares at her. He holds Sanada's hand tight and says, "No." Sanada's stomach grumbles.
Yukimura drags Sanada to his room and he slams the door. The walls shake. Sanada looks at him. His brow scrunches up. Yukimura walks up to him and touches his forehead. He smoothes the lines out with his fingertip. He rubs his erection on Sanada's leg.
"Your mother's here," Sanada says.
"Good," Yukimura says. Sanada shakes his head. Yukimura smiles. He lifts the skirt of Sanada's jumper and pulls it up over Sanada's head. His blouse catches. Sanada shivers. In only a blouse and underpants, he looks pretty-even prettier when he bites his bottom lip and his voice catches.
"Yuki- Seiichi, we can't!"
Yukimura runs his hands over Sanada's breasts. His nipples stiffen under Yukimura's palms. He kisses Sanada's neck and licks the chill off his skin. His hands roam over Sanada's curves. The buttons are stiff in his fingers, but Sanada helps shrug the blouse off.
The tv is on in the main room. Stupid mother, he thinks. Music strains from a drama almost-but not quite-muffle the sounds Sanada makes when Yukimura pulls him on top of his body. Sanada straddles his hips. He moans. Sanada mewls and clutches his breasts, kneading them as he leans forward and sinks onto Yukimura's swollen cock. Sanada gasps. Yukimura thrusts. The mattress springs squeak and groan under their bodies. Sanada bounces and his breasts move. Yukimura swings a leg up over Sanada's hip to get deeper and push further. The sound of his foot smacking Sanada on the side makes Sanada yelp. The mattress groans again.
The tv volume goes up. The voices are louder, the music is stronger. Yukimura sinks deeper into the pillows and deeper into Sanada. Sanada whispers, "No, no, you have to- stop! Ughnn…"
Yukimura slides a hand between their bodies. Sanada sobs. He moves his fingers around the slick, hot flesh to find that little spot. Sanada shakes, and then he's gone.
Yukimura groans when he comes.
After, he wraps Sanada's arm around his shoulders and rubs his leg on Sanada's calf. It's prickly. It's not very feminine, but the soft, round breasts squished against his ribs are.
His mom never mentions Sanada's gorilla arms again.
***
There is an exhibition on at the city art gallery, Impressionist Nudes. It is their first official date. At lunch time, Marui winks and reminds Yukimura not to forget the condoms. Yukimura tells him to shove off, but he laughs too.
He bought a box last night. He and Sanada don't remember to use them very often anyway.
Yukimura got the tickets last night, too. He plays tennis with Yagyuu during practice. He showers at home and uses wax in his hair-just a bit, in case Sanada frowns and complains about his hands being sticky. He wears his lucky underpants and his favourite black jeans. Jackal gave him a hat to borrow. "I don't need them anymore anyways," he muttered.
The sight in the mirror looks good. Yukimura winks at himself. His reflection waggles his eyebrows. Genichirou won't be able to resist! his reflection says.
"Darn right," Yukimura murmurs. He grabs his coat and slides his feet into the leather shoes his father bought at the duty free airport in Paris for him. Maybe Sanada will grumble about fashion, but he doesn't complain when Yukimura rings the buzzer at his home.
Sanada's mouth hangs open. Sanada's mom offers Yukimura hot milk tea and tells Sanada to go wear that pretty outfit she got him. And use that other stuff. The blush that stains Sanada's face makes Yukimura's insides hot.
Sanada wears normal pants, but his lips are glossy. He hides under his cap and scarf as they walk to the train station. Yukimura holds his hand and squeezes Sanada's mitten. "You look nice," he says.
Sanada grunts.
They hold hands at the gallery too. It's mostly old people, and them. The guards raise their eyebrows: two teenagers, one shuffling awkwardly behind the other. Sanada refuses to leave his coat at the check. He refuses to take it off when Yukimura offers to hold it.
"Why?" he asks.
Sanada mumbles "Tarundoru." Yukimura shrugs.
The first paintings make his heart flutter. The fleshy nudes with their pale, pink-tinted skin stand and lay down. They sit and squat and pose. Sometimes they brush their long hair: gold, brown, black. Sometimes they stare back, sometimes they are demure. Sanada stares at the floor. Yukimura looks at the paintings. His cock twitches.
The painted breasts sag. Some are perky. Some are nothing more than a hint behind a posed arm-the swell is enticing. Yukimura mouth is dry. He reads one or two labels to Sanada, but the French words are hard to pronounce. Sanada says nothing.
Courbet is the star of the show. Connoisseurs mass around it, speaking with fancy words Yukimura doesn't understand: oeuvre and reposoir and tour de force and réalisme. He can see over the heads of the old ladies. Sanada refuses to look. His face is on fire. Yukimura squeezes his hand.
When the crowd passes, they step forward. "This is my favourite," he says. He looks at the painting, and then to Sanada. His cock throbs. Blood rushes in his ears. Yukimura's head floats. He closes his eyes and sees Sanada lying there, his legs spread out and his cunt exposed-
Sanada makes a little noise. He chokes. He takes one look at the painting and turns away. The Japanese Impressionist works are the only paintings he doesn't turn away from. Yukimura swats Sanada with his hat. "You're so old-fashioned," he says. He laughs. Sanada scowls. Yukimura smiles and rolls his eyes.
Together, they have 5800 yen.
"We could eat ramen," Sanada says. "There's a place open until eleven-"
"I have a better idea," Yukimura says.
***
The love hotel is cheap and the sheets are musty.
Sanada writhes. His feet dig into the mattress. He gasps. Yukimura licks. "Do you know why I liked the Courbet?" he asks. He bites the inside of Sanada's thigh-the skin is too soft, too white. He can't stop himself. He bites harder. The skin bruises.
Sanada cries and begs with his hands. He pulls at Yukimura's hair. He squeezes his legs together and spreads his knees at the same time. Yukimura curls his tongue inside Sanada's cunt until Sanada comes.
Sanada lies boneless on the bed. His breathing evens out. Yukimura jerks himself off. Sanada offers a limp hand to help. Yukimura comes on his fist. They lie together on the musty sheets. Their bodies are sticky and feverish. It feels good.
"That's why I liked the Courbet," he murmurs.
***
His fortune for the New Year:
A lot of good luck.
Yukimura gives Sanada a nengajo the first day they go back to school. He drew the comic tennis ball himself. Sanada flushes and murmurs thank you.
"That looks like a Moyashimon," Niou says. He leans over Yukimura and Sanada. He smells like sour milk.
"Go away," Sanada grumbles.
Sanada tacks the nengajo up in his tennis locker. His textmessage reads: I like moyashimon. they r cute. lets brew!
Yukimura never knew Sanada had a sense of humour. He saves the message and spends biology class doodling microbes in his notebook.
***
He practices in the gymnasium with the balls machines. Stupid captain, Yukimura thinks. There's no such thing as no tennis in winter!
A ball punches out. Shwoop!
He steps back and swings wide. The ball makes contact in the centre of his racket. Yukimura hits a straight shot.
He doesn't stop until his arm throbs. His muscles slacken. His arm droops at the side of his body. Yukimura rolls his shoulder and walks through the winter chill back to the clubhouse. Lights are on inside. He pushes the door open. The air is acrid and sharp and it makes him sneeze.
Jackal and Niou sit on the bench. Their shoes and socks are tossed across the floor. Their feet are propped up. Little bottles and rumpled kleenex litter the spaces between them.
"Um," Niou says.
"Uh, it's not what it looks like," Jackal says. He leans forward to grab the bottles. His hand is careless-two bottles fly across the floor. One shatters and spills red nail polish in a puddle.
Yukimura closes the door behind himself. Sanada walks up to him. His breath clouds the air and crystallizes on the spot. Sanada says, "What?"
"Do you paint your toes?" Yukimura asks.
"What?"
Yukimura shakes his head. "Nothing."
***
On Valentines, Sanada walks up to Yukimura's locker with a blush across his cheeks. They just finished stretches for an indoor morning practice. Snow dusts the empty courts. Yukimura's footsteps are a lonely path across the baseline.
He looks at Sanada and his dick hardens. Sanada mumbles something about Valentines Day. He wears the cherry blossom hair pin. Yukimura's heart swells. He takes the box from Sanada. There are too many people around in the hallway and he isn't brave enough to kiss Sanada in public here. Besides, Sanada would probably slap him.
"Thank you," Yukimura says. Sanada licks his lips. He isn't wearing his cap and his black hair is glossy. Yukimura reaches out to touch it, but he stops himself when Sanada blinks.
"I have to go to class," Sanada mutters. He rushes off. His bum wiggles as he walks. Yukimura smiles.
Other girls give him giri choco in class. Their boxes are prettier than Sanada's: department store perfection with crisp edges and red velvet. He says thank you and collects the pile in the bottom of his school bag until there is no more room. Then, Yukimura stacks the other boxes in his desk. The girls giggle and skip and call him Yukimura-san. They blush and flash coy smiles. They have long hair, permed hair, and wear red, sticky lip gloss.
They are girls through and through.
At lunch, he and Sanada sit on the rooftop. Sanada curls against Yukimura's side, underneath Yukimura's wool coat. He chews on his onigiri and offers Yukimura a slice of cold, grilled beef. Today, they both brought bentos from home.
Yukimura props one knee up. He leans on it and opens the box of chocolates. "No thanks," he says, "I have these."
Sanada's face is red. He buries it under the collar of Yukimura's coat. The sounds of his chewing stop.
A sheet of transparent rice paper flutters to the ground from the box. Yukimura picks it up and turns it over. His heart patters, doki doki doki doki as his eyes read the characters. The strokes are bold and black and thick, but the words are as delicate as the first spring blossoms.
I love you.
Yukimura's throat thickens. He reaches to Sanada and squeezes his shoulder. Sanada says nothing. Yukimura looks out across the school campus. The view from up here is wide and sweeping. Green grass peeks out from under bare trees. The air is heavy with pollen and promise.
Sanada's chocolates are sweet and smooth. Yukimura eats them one by one, all sixteen before the lunch bell rings.
He hands Marui four plastic bags at tennis practice. "Enjoy," he says.
The other chocolates would never compare to Sanada's.
***
One week before his sixteenth birthday, Sanada invites him for dinner. After tennis practice, they hold hands. The forest near Sanada's house is filled with early chirping birds and green bamboo. The skeletal trees have tiny shoots on their fingers. Yukimura weaves his fingers between Sanada's and squeezes. They don't need mittens today.
The dojo is drafty. Sanada wears a hakama and poses. He strikes a straw dummy and poses again. His breathing is regular and even. His motions are specific and skilled. Yukimura takes a pair of scissors from his bag. He trims the miniature bonsai plants near the window. Sanada doesn’t know how to shape the leaves properly.
Sanada changes in the dojo. "Can you…?" He holds up one of the ties. His eyes are black and liquid. Yukimura undresses him-the hakama peels away the layers like an onion. Sanada shivers. His skin is milky in the dying light. Yukimura kisses his shoulder. Sanada sighs. Yukimura pushes his bra strap away.
Sanada places a hand on top of his. "Not now," he says. "It's almost supper."
Sanada's mother smiles at Yukimura. She has softer features than Sanada and a smaller, sagging chest. She has a frilly pink apron and she smells homey, like rice and frying fish. Yukimura likes her. He praises her food (even though it's only okay) and she flushes.
Just like Sanada.
Sanada's brother always asks Yukimura if Genichirou makes a good girl or not. "He's got the rack, but not the attitude, know what I mean?" He waggles his eyebrows and Sanada chokes. Yukimura frowns. He doesn't know what Sanada's brother means.
"It's so nice that you are such a good friend to Genichirou," Sanada's mom says. A cat rubs against Yukimura's leg. He sniffles. The cat paws at his thigh. It looks up at him with plaintive eyes. Yukimura bites back a sneeze.
"I mean, that you can accept Genichirou however he is," Sanada's mom adds. "Mom!" Sanada snaps. Sanada's brother laughs. Sanada's father falls over in his chair. He's been nursing beers all evening.
Sanada's grandfather scowls.
Yukimura smiles and nods. "He's only changed on the outside. I wouldn't be a very good friend to abandon him because he's a girl now."
"Not a girl," Sanada grumbles.
"Explain the tampon box in the bathroom," his brother says. Yukimura blinks and flushes. Yuck, he thinks.
After they finish, Sanada looks over his shoulder. His eyes catch Yukimura, and then his head turns toward the stairs. His cheeks are pink. Yukimura's stomach flutters. Sanada's bedroom is upstairs. He pushes his chair into the table and thanks Sanada's mom for supper.
Her back is turned as she cleans plates. Yukimura pads to the stairwell, but something strong and fast like the wind smacks his leg. He hears a faint whoosh. Then his calf explodes in pain. Yukimura hisses.
Sanada's grandfather's cane rattles on the floor. In Yukimura's ear, he snaps, "You're too young to be dating my grandso- Genichirou!"
Yukimura shifts his eye to the side. Sanada's grandfather is in his face. He smells like herbal cough medicine and mothballs. He grabs Yukimura by the back of his collar. Yukimura swallows. His stomach sinks. Sanada's grandfather grumbles, "Too young! Tarundoru!"
Sanada closes the door behind them in his bedroom. Yukimura rubs his neck. "What did Grandfather say to you?" Sanada asks.
Yukimura kneels down beside Sanada. His skirt fans out across the futon. Yukimura touches the inside of Sanada's thigh. Sanada's eyes flutter shut. His lips part, ready for the kiss that comes.
Against Sanada's waiting mouth, Yukimura murmurs, "Nothing important."
***
"You know what I need?"
Yukimura looks at Marui. Instead of practicing his swings, Marui leans on his racket. The racket frame scrapes the clay court. Yukimura's eye twitches.
"A brain?" Niou offers.
Marui ignores him. "I need a truck. A big ass Ford truck."
Yukimura blinks. "Why?"
Marui holds up a finger. "Because, my dear Yukimura, chicks in American movies dig dudes with big Ford trucks. The biggest American truck I can get."
"You can't drive," Yanagi says. Marui doesn't take Yanagi too seriously, not when Yanagi has a baby strapped to his chest.
"You're not American," Yukimura says. "And you can't drive."
Marui rolls his eyes. His racket scrapes the ground. Yukimura winces.
"I have American things. I have Converse sneakers. I have Leebais. AND," Marui waggles his finger. He unzips his jacket. Niou calls uncle. Marui pushes his jacket open. "My t-shirt. Is this not the most American thing you have ever seen?"
Jackal walks up. He reads the t-shirt out loud. "I heart M.Y.C.?" Marui's jaw drops and Jackal rolls his eyes. "The letter is wrong, and no, I still wouldn't date you if you had the biggest Chevy in Japan."
***
In the change room, Marui asks, "What's a shebbi?"
Yukimura shrugs his shoulders. "Dunno."
***
On White Day, Yukimura swallows his pride and his nerves. He tells Sanada, "I love you, too."
Sanada doesn't hear. He moans. His skirt is bunched around his waist and his legs wrap around Yukimura. The storage shed creaks. Water drips from the roof outside and it smells like musty equipment and sex. Yukimura thrusts into Sanada's cunt. Sanada squeezes hard around his dick and Yukimura gasps. He whispers it again. Sanada's chest heaves with a sob.
He kisses Sanada-their noses bump and their teeth clack. His mouth is sloppy. Sanada leans back against the wall. His hands dig into Yukimura's shoulder. Yukimura hisses and pushes deeper. He grunts and comes.
The cherry blossom pin has slipped in Sanada's hair. Yukimura wipes his hand on his track pants. He pulls them up, then he reaches to Sanada's head. Sanada's hair is soft and damp. The pin slides back into place.
They play tennis after on one of the streetcourts between Yukimura's house and the high school. Sanada's skirt flips up. Yukimura can see Sanada's shorts underneath and the swell of his hips. He still wears y-fronts. Sanada smashes balls and his breasts bounce. Yukimura sweats and laughs and uses a rising shot in defense.
There is a bench on the side of the court. They sit together and pant. Rackets sink to the ground under the haze of a mauve sunset. Yukimura grabs Sanada's hand. He nibbles on the tip of Sanada's fingers until Sanada blushes.
It's the best White Day ever.