FIC: We'll Always Have Kanagawa, YukiSana, NC17 (3/4)
Title: We'll Always Have Kanagawa (3/4)
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.
3. Second Interlude
The flight is long. There is a screaming baby in economy and his manager can't book Yukimura a business class seat. He pops in a pair of earplugs, but the sound filters through those too.
The train from Narita to Yokohama is almost as bad. A kid-maybe fourteen-pukes two stops of the way into the ride. Yukimura nearly gags on the smell. It reminds him of the hospital and things he never wants to remember again.
His skin hurts. His sunburn peels on his nose and his face is lobster-red. His arms throb under his jacket. He slips on a pair of sunglasses, then tosses his bags into the trunk of the Toyota. In his suitcase, he has a ceramic bird for Sanada. It's a kitschy souvenir-it should look perfect hanging in a window.
All he wants is to go home. Mexico was nice. It was sunny and warm. But Sanada wasn't there. Yukimura has missed Sanada's warm, soft body. He's missed sex and kissing Sanada's breasts. He's missed meals at home and the suburban sounds of the neighbourhood. He rolls the window down to breathe in the smell of Japan: damp earth and wet pine trees and bamboo. Mexico was noisy. Spanish gave him a headache.
The streets grow more familiar. Cement fences and planters filled with pansies and late-blooming roses line the sidewalks. Yukimura turns right down the main road. The apartment block juts into the horizon. It blocks out the mountains, but not the dusky blue that settles as evening rolls in.
He parks. He looks up to the third floor. The light is on in their apartment. His heart flutters. His dick hardens and Yukimura swallows. It's been a lonely two weeks. His hand doesn't satisfy the way it used to. He needs Sanada. His body hums with the anticipation of seeing Sanada's body and kissing his thighs. Yukimura pushes his sunglasses up and smiles.
There is just enough energy left in his legs to climb the stairs. He calls out, "Hello?" The door is open. Yukimura heaves his suitcase and tennisbag inside. "I'm home!"
Sanada wears a striped apron. It's new and hangs off his body, too baggy to fit properly. His throat bobs. Yukimura gives him a long, hard kiss. Sanada's mouth yields, but his hands hang at his waist.
"Did you miss me?" Yukimura asks.
Sanada turns to the burners. "Supper's ready," he mumbles. "I played tennis with Yagyuu last week."
Yukimura clicks his tongue. He peels his sunglasses off. For a moment the glare from the fluorescent kitchen light blinds him. "Yagyuu's getting worse by the year," he says. "You could have waited to play with me, Genichirou."
Sanada doesn't laugh at his joke. Yukimura frowns.
The entire apartment smells like fish stew. Yukimura's stomach grumbles. He's not sure if its airplane gas or hunger, but the food smells good-salty and rich and tasty. Sanada serves him, but the ladle slips in his hand. Stew splashes across the table.
"Sorry for the trouble," he mumbles. His face is green. Yukimura touches Sanada's hand. He wipes the stew from Sanada's fingers with his thumb. Sanada sucks a breath in.
"It's okay," Yukimura says.
"I'm preg-nant," Sanada whispers.
Yukimura freezes. The clock ticks. A train rushes by and the light reflects in his eyes as a flash of whiteness through the curtains. His chest doesn't move. Yukimura cannot breathe as Sanada's words sink in.
He's pregnant.
Sanada is pregnant and not by him.
He balls his hand up. Anger pulses through his body, red hot and explosive. In a flash, he stands up and pushes the chair away from under himself. It clatters against the wall. He must have thrown it.
Sanada stands there. The ladle falls to the floor. It is the only sound besides a cracked sob.
And then, Yukimura opens his mouth. Everything comes out. He cannot stop it. Sanada's crushed face and tears do nothing. Yukimura yells something he doesn't understand and Sanada stumbles over the ladle. He keeps yelling. He can't stop. "You SLUT! You fucking SLUT!" he screams. "You WHORE! How COULD YOU?"
Yukimura slams his hand against the wall. Spit flies from his mouth. Sanada scrambles to his feet. He shakes his head and grabs Yukimura's arm. He's been burned once. Sanada's hands burn a second time. He yells in pain and shoves Sanada off.
"GET OFF ME! IT WAS YAGYUU, WASN'T IT?!" he yells. "You fucking WHORE! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! Get RID of it! GET OUT!"
Sanada runs. He leaves the door open. Yukimura screams until his voice is hoarse and a neighbour bangs the wall.
He throws the ceramic bird against the bedroom wall. It leaves a blue mark and smashes into a hundred pieces.
Yukimura crumples to the floor and cries.
***
It rains for a week straight. Yukimura stumbles out of the apartment long enough most days to go to the university sports centre. Sometimes he stays all night and sleeps on the hard courts. He showers when the coach shouts that he stinks. He guzzles sports drinks. They leave sour, mineral aftertastes. The machines shoot balls and Yukimura slugs them back to the wall. They bounce. He seethes. He thinks of nothing. His mind is blank. There is nothing but the strain of the muscles in his arms and the pull in his hamstrings.
He stumbles out of the university sports centre long enough most days to walk to the subway station. His sunglasses hide the glare of the sun and stares of people. Yukimura touches his face. It itches. He can't remember the last time he shaved, either.
The conbini near home doesn't ask when he clears out the row of Asahis, then the Sapporos and imported Bud Lights too. Yukimura sets down a 10 000 yen bill and leaves. The clerk shouts to him. Yukimura doesn't hear.
The walk from the conbini to the apartment is the longest. Rain drips cold and damp on his jacket sleeves. His hands are numb. His sneakers are soaked through-maybe he stepped in a puddle. His toes tingle and his chest is empty.
He drinks the cans two at a time. It never fills the hollow ache inside. He looks at the futon and his vision blurs. Yukimura stands up and lurches forward. He yanks at the futon sheets, but he can't scream. His voice is hoarse and he whispers a name. He chokes on four syllables. The sheets smell like vomit.
Yukimura wakes to the sound of keys jingling. His head pounds. His stomach heaves. He grabs at the sheets; they bunch between his fingers and he can't get up. "Go away!" he yells. The voice isn't his. The words don't make sense.
"Are you all right?"
Yanagi.
Yukimura cracks an eye open. His face is wet. There is a pile of beer cans at the end of the futon. The floor is sticky.
"He's upset," Yanagi says.
Yukimura closes his eyes again. He needs another beer, not a lecture. "Fuck off," he mutters. "Sanada's a slut, that's what he is."
"It's Sanada now, is it?" Yanagi clicks his tongue. A beer can flies across the room and hits the wall. Yukimura doesn't know if he threw it, or if Yanagi tripped over it.
Rain drizzles down the window. Yanagi gives up speaking. Instead, he paws through the closet and packs Sanada's clothes into a duffel bag. Yukimura rolls over onto his stomach. A plastic bag from yesterday-or was it the day before?-sits on the floor. Inside, he feels a can. It opens with a wet pop. The beer is warm and fizzy. The bubbles burn his throat.
Yanagi stands in the doorway and the outside light creates an eclipse around his face. He frowns. "He still loves you," Yanagi says.
Yukimura says nothing.
***
He shows up at Marui's place the following night.
"Don't give me a fucking lecture," Yukimura says.
"Dude, I'm your friend, not your mom," Marui says.
"No puking on the rug," Jackal says.
He sleeps on a spare futon in Jennie's room. She listens to Orange Range and Avril Lavigne before bedtime. She bounces on her bed and asks Yukimura why he smells like a garbage dump. Yukimura's head splits open.
He pukes on the kitchen floor.
***
"The All-Asia is coming up," the coach says. "Your form looks like crap."
Yukimura wipes the back of his neck with a sweat towel. "I'll win," he says. The lights on the court are harsh. His skull throbs. His mouth tastes like cheese and celery. He snorts a wad of mucus and horks it onto the floor.
"You need to resolve your personal shit before it carries into your game even more," the coach adds. "Take a damned shower and go home. You can't play today."
Yukimura curls his lip. Just watch me, he thinks. The coach shakes his head. Yukimura flicks the ball machine on again. The countdown ticks. He jogs to the other end of the court and leans low.
He's pushed his body through training and rehab a hundred times harder than this. The coach closes the door when he leaves.
Yukimura is alone. He grinds his teeth. I don't need anyone.
The ball whooshes past his ear.
***
Yukimura says, "Let's go out." His stomach has been unsettled all day. He woke up with a hangover and went to bed drunk. He practiced at the university sports centre and slipped in the shower. The coach doesn't know about his near-concussion. His skulls pounds.
He hates that he isn't taking care of his own body. Years ago he vowed he would never be unhealthy again. But he doesn't care. He kicks himself. His heart is sick-if he can't heal that, the rest doesn't matter.
Marui fist-airs. "But I made beans and rice for supper," Jackal says. The kitchen smells like chilies and gas. Yukimura gags.
"You always make beans and rice for supper," Marui says. "We'll just be out for a bit." Jackal frowns. Marui sighs. He walks up to Jackal. Yukimura can hear Marui whisper, "Daddy will give you some sugar later, promise."
Jackal rolls his eyes. Yukimura has a headache.
They stay out until 1am and miss the last train home.
Marui stumbles on the sidewalk curb. Yukimura leans over a rubbish bin and heaves. Puke bounces back onto his face. His hair is sticky and clings to his face.
"If I had a truck," Marui shouts, "then…I could DRIVE home now!"
"A shebbi?" Yukimura asks.
They laugh their asses off and fall asleep on the steps of the train station. A janitor pokes them with a broom at half-past four.
"You can't stay here," he tells them.
Jackal makes Marui sleep outside the apartment. "You can't stay here," he says, "until you're sober or hungover. Not in front of Jennie."
Marui bangs on the door. "Come on, babe!"
Jackal fixes his bathrobe. He glares at Yukimura. Yukimura looks back. His vision is so blurry that he can't see Jackal's face when the door slams on Marui.
Crows wake them up at dawn. Yukimura shivers. He can see his breath cloud and his collar is frosted. His fingers are white and the crows caw.
He has no one and nothing.
He feels like a fool.
***
Jackal kicks him out. It's maybe a week later. It's maybe a month later. The All-Asia tournament is in ten days. The only place Yukimura feels anything is on the court. He slugs balls and smashes shots. He grinds his teeth until his jaw aches. His arms work so hard the coach warns that he'll dislocate his shoulder if he doesn't stop.
Yukimura narrows his eyes. "Ball!" he calls. He rolls his shoulder. The muscle is tense.
The coach hesitates.
"BALL!" he screams. "Give me a fucking BALL!"
He whips his arm around so fast that his racket slips from his hand. It arcs across the court and bangs into the far baseline.
"Fix things with your girlfriend," the coach says. "I'm not going to lie to the magazines any longer."
Yukimura snorts. "I have nothing to say to that slut," he says.
His coach gives up. He throws his hands in the air and tells Yukimura to shape up. Yukimura uses the self-mode on the machine until his palm bleeds and the baskets of balls are empty. He trips over the tennis balls rolling on the gym floor. The fluorescent lighting makes his stomach churn. He can taste the Pocari Sweat and instant ramen he had for breakfast. He wants to puke.
He grabs his bag and stomps into the change room. Yukimura grinds his teeth. He thinks of his coach as an asshole-he doesn't understand. He doesn't have a girlfriend who cheated on him and got pregnant with another man's baby, then had the nerve to tell him.
Yukimura shakes. His bag drops to the tile floor. He whips his headband off. It stinks like sour sweat and vomit. He sniffs his armpit. He stinks like sour sweat and vomit, too.
A shoe scuffs. Akaya looks up from a row of lockers.
"Um, senpai, hi," he says.
Yukimura peels his t-shirt off.
"So Sanada-senpai is staying with us," Akaya says.
"Traitor," Yukimura says. "Why don't you kick that whore out? He's a slut. A SLUT!" Yukimura slams a locker. His hand vibrates with the force of impact. His fingers hurt and his forearm is cramped.
"But…" Akaya groans. He scratches his head. He doesn't leave and when Yukimura showers, Akaya keeps talking. "See, the thing is, he might get rid of-"
"Good!" Yukimura snaps. Soap stings his eye. He shrieks. He tells Akaya to fuck off and go away. "Tell that slut he SHOULD get rid of Yagyuu's bastard-and even then I still don't want him back!"
Akaya bites his lip. He hesitates. Yukimura throws a bottle of shampoo at him, then Akaya leaves.
His eyes sting all night. They are bloodshot when he wakes up too.
***
Time passes in a monochrome blur of days at the sports centre and nights of drinking. Sometimes Marui comes. Mostly, Yukimura goes home and passes out. He eats when he remembers. His form gets sloppier and the coach gets angrier.
Yukimura flips through the book of shunga prints. His lip curls at the different positions. He can feel the press of Sanada's stiff nipples on his back. He can feel the slick heat of Sanada's cunt on his fingers. He can feel the hot, dry kisses all over his neck. Yukimura claws at his skin. He pries open a window and screams into the night.
A dog starts to bark.
A train rattles past. Tatan tatan. Tatan tatan.
He curls up in a cocoon of sheets and blankets. Yukimura smells Sanada on them. He smells Sanada everywhere-in the shower with the woodsy soap, in the forlorn clothes left in their closet to must, in the kitchen with the unwashed pots and pans in the sink. The fish curry from that night has turned blackish-brown. It crusts the bottom of a pot. Yukimura throws it into the communal rubbish bin whole.
There is nothing left inside himself, not even the desire to win. He steps onto the court of the All Asia Invitational. His opponent is a wiry Taiwanese kid. Yukimura looks through him. His eyes search the stands, but there is no black cap anywhere.
He sighs. "Smooth or rough?"
The Taiwanese kid wins. It takes two matches. Yukimura pushes his sweatband back from his eyes. Fuck this, he thinks.
He walks off the court. Reporters swarm him. Photographers snap pictures. Their shouts are drowned out by the sound of a hundred shutters. He knows what they want to know already. Yukimura elbows one reporter and grabs the mic from another. He throws it onto the ground.
"Fuck off," he says.
There is a voice message from his coach on his cell when Yukimura stumbles home. Yukimura deletes it. He doesn't want another lecture.
***
The newspapers show Akaya's flushed face and sharp grin.
He won the All Asia.
Yukimura snorts. "So you're finally number one, ne Akaya?"
***
Andy Roddick sends him an email.
Yukimura hasn't spoken to him since Wimbledon and that night when he and Sanada went to dinner. He closes his eyes. Sanada blushes. The round tops of his breasts peak out from his dress. He stumbles in heels and wears a necklace and the same hair pin as always. He is beautiful, even when he tells Yukimura that he's leaving the restaurant.
Sanada's dress is around his waist. His head is thrown back. His lipstick is smeared over his face. Yukimura tastes the wine from dinner and the sushi, too. He mostly tastes Sanada and the bitter heat between his legs. His sweat is salty, his skin smooth and perfect. Yukimura thrusts up. The pressure on his dick is overwhelming. He grunts and comes. Sanada gasps.
Was Sanada sleeping with Yagyuu already then?
Yukimura's blood freezes. There is no heating in the apartment. He kicked the electric heater two weeks ago. It doesn't work. He doesn't remember to buy a new one. His teeth chatter too much to grind.
He reads the email. Andy asks if he's all right-the All Asia was broadcast on a specialty station in America and he saw it.
You weren't even concentrating. What's going on Seichi? When I broke up with Mandy my game was off. You having the same girl problems? Drop me a line!
Yukimura sets his beer can on the table. He rocks back in the chair. His ribs ache.
***
"Yo."
"Who's this?"
"Puri. Don't you know?"
Yukimura grunts.
"We gotta talk."
"I have nothing to say."
"Too bad. Half-hour, the bar beside the pachinko parlour across from the north exit of Higashi-Totsuka."
Yukimura goes. Niou waits for him. There's no way to miss the fat woman in a bright blue wool coat pacing outside the bar. Yukimura drags his feet. Niou curls his lip. They go into the bar and stand. Niou orders an extra large beer and a bowl of edamame.
"Aren't you pregnant?" Yukimura asks.
Niou guzzles half his beer, then he belches. "Nope."
Yukimura looks under the bar. Niou dumped a big, black purse on the floor. "Where's your kids?" Yukimura asks.
"At home," Niou says.
Yukimura waits.
"My life doesn't revolve around them," Niou says. "Unlike some people I have a life. Sometimes I go out and play pachinko or darts."
Yukimura shrugs. "Are you paying?" Niou nods so Yukimura orders a beer, too. It fizzles inside his stomach and makes him feel ill. The smells of deep-frying chicken send bile up his throat. Yukimura drinks more.
"Stop talking shit about Yagyuu," Niou says. He fixes his bra. Yukimura can see a flash of a roll of fat from under Niou's shirt. He looks back up to Niou's face-he's older. There are tiny lines at the sides of his eyes and his cheeks are round. In the reflection of a mirror on the ceiling, Yukimura can see a man beside Niou: scruffy hair, unshaved face, pink eyes and hollow cheeks.
He looks diseased.
Yukimura swallows. He looks down at the bench. A shudder runs through his body. The bar is warm and stuffy.
"Yagyuu didn't sleep with Sanada," Niou says.
"How do you-"
"I'd fucking cut his balls off, okay?" Niou says. The bar tender stops wiping a mug. "He's never slept with anyone except me."
"Besides, Sanada's the least slutty person I know- oi! Stop listening!"
The bar tender starts wiping again. Niou leans on the bar with an elbow. His breasts push together and make a dark line of cleavage. "Are you anything without him?"
Yukimura sips his beer. He sets the mug down. His hand shakes. "What?" he asks.
Niou keeps staring at him through slitted eyes. He cocks his head to the other side. "I said, are you anything without Sanada? You guys have been together for years. Even if he did mess around on you, do you really want to lose him?"
Yukimura drinks. Niou stares. The back of Yukimura's neck prickles.
Niou starts to chuckle under his breath. The sound is so sudden that Yukimura stops. Beer slops down his chin. He wipes it off. Niou smirks. He leans closer to Yukimura and murmurs, "What if it was yours?"
"I can't have kids," Yukimura says. Even now, he can hear the conversation between the doctor and nurse. No kids. No tennis. He proved the impossible with tennis, but nothing can fix faulty biology. Nothing.
His chest tightens.
"Sanada's wanted kids for years, you know."
Yukimura snaps his eyes open.
"He was always jealous of the rest of us. Didn't he go to some fertility shrine last year too?"
Yukimura's throat is dry. He thinks about the book at home. "He…went to Kyoto."
There were never any photographs. No Sanada in front of the Golden Pavillion. No Sanada with a tacky rickshaw driver in the Gion district. No bags of goodies and pickles from Kiyomizu-dera. Nothing except a shunga book with a penis bookmark.
Stamped with Uwajima on the back.
Niou flicks edamame beans onto the bench. One rolls in front of Yukimura. His insides flip out. His collar feels too tight. He pulls at it, but he still can't breathe.
"You ever thought about getting tested?" Niou asks "Count the little swimmers?" He tucks a business card into Yukimura's pocket.
"It's almost Christmas," Niou adds. He grabs his coat from the hook and looks back over his shoulder. He rubs his breasts. "Gotta get home and feed the baby," he says.
"Christmas is loneliest by yourself, Yukimura. Don't forget that."
***
The clinic is at the hospital.
He tells himself he knows the answer. He tells himself Niou is full of bullshit, like always. He tells himself this will be the proof he needs to get over Sanada and get on with his life.
The nurse gives him a little cup and fifteen minutes. There are a stack of magazines with dog-eared pages. Yukimura flips one open. The girls nauseate him. They play with their tits and spread their legs, fingering hairless cunts that look like they belong to little children, not women.
His dick is soft. Yukimura groans. It isn't working. His impotency is worse. Soon, his balls will shrivel up too.
He thinks about the nurse. She's middle-aged and she minces like his mother, but she's a woman. He thinks about the nurse porn he used to watch as a teenager: their little pink hats and small nipples, their big bums and round tits, bouncing as they walk. His dick twitches.
His mind wanders.
There is Sanada, lying on the bed and sleeping. His back is turned to Yukimura and his hip juts into the air. Yukimura runs his hand along Sanada's bum, turning him over. Sanada is pliable in sleep, but his eyelashes flutter. He blushes and murmurs Yukimura's name.
His breasts are heavy and warm. Yukimura cups them. He runs his thumbs over Sanada's nipples, squeezing them. Sanada pants. His legs part. Yukimura crawls between them. He presses their bodies together, rubbing skin to skin. He tastes Sanada's sweat. He licks the valley between Sanada's breasts. He touches Sanada's clit and kisses the moans Sanada makes.
Yukimura comes in the little cup. He wipes his hand with a tissue, and then he washes in the sink. He pats his face with cold water.
It takes an hour.
The nurse tells him the result.
Yukimura walks outside the hospital. He collapses on a cement planter. It is frigid under his thighs. He doesn't know he's crying until a boy with a cast asks him if he is all right.
"Yes," Yukimura whispers. "Yes."
***
He showers.
He shaves.
He nicks the side of his jaw and presses a wadded up piece of toilet paper to stop the blood.
He sprays himself in cologne and wears the only clean clothing he can find.
Yanagi says nothing to him. He smiles at Yukimura. He juggles the baby girl on his hip and holds Kento's hand at the same time. Genki wanders into the hallway with a toothy smile and a glint to his eye. "Natsuko is at ballet lessons," Yanagi says. "Genichirou will be back soon. Good luck."
Yukimura nods. His body is immensely heavy. He can't open his mouth to speak. He sits in the apartment on the couch. Something pokes his butt. Yukimura pulls a Gekiranger figurine from the crack between cushions. His throat is thick with a sob. Yanagi didn't say if Sanada still is or not. It hurts to think about. Whatever Sanada chose, he'll accept.
I need you Genichirou…
There is evidence of Sanada scattered around Akaya and Yanagi's home. Shoes and folded clothing. He can smell Sanada on the couch. Yukimura touches a blanket draped over the back. He leans close and breathes it in. His heart swells. His ribs ache. Sanada has been here alone. Sanada has slept here and eaten here and lived here.
The city grows darker and darker through the curtains hiding the porch windows. Yukimura peels one back. The white-lit tops of skyscrapers and apartment blocks fill his view, blurring into the distance as he swallows again.
At the sound of keys jingling, Yukimura turns. Sanada is hidden in the shadows. Yukimura can see his form motionless by the doorway. His shoulders sink with the burden of emotion. He doesn't know how to begin. His eyes blink. Yukimura sucks a breath in and steps closer. His arms ache to wrap around Sanada's waist. His mouth burns to kiss Sanada's lips. His dick throbs to slide into Sanada's cunt.
"I thought you slept with Yagyuu," Yukimura says. "I was so wrong." Sanada tries to shake his head. Yukimura walks closer. His body moves. He tries to speak. Words are thick and forced. Sanada's shoulders shake with a sob and Yukimura can feel it. His face is hot and wet with tears.
"I thought- I thought you couldn't have kids with me. A long time ago the doctor said- I thought he said I couldn't" His voice breaks up.
In the dim light, Sanada squeezes his eyes shut. "No…" he whispers.
"I thought it made me impotent," Yukimura says. "My…disease." Sanada shakes his head again. He's crying too. Yukimura's heart shatters. Glistening tear paths streak Sanada's face. Yukimura touches his arm. "Are you still…?"
Sanada crumples and Yukimura catches him.
They kneel on the floor together. Sanada won't set his head down on Yukimura's shoulder. Yukimura strokes his hair. The tears don't stop. He combs the silky strands and holds Sanada to his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he murmurs. "Even if it wasn't mine, I would want-"
Sanada turns. His tears stain Yukimura's arm, searing his skin. Yukimura kisses him. Sanada kisses back, slow and chaste. His mouth is wet with tears. Yukimura kisses them away. He pulls Sanada close. The feeling of breasts pressed to his arm makes his insides loosen.
Sanada takes Yukimura's hand and presses it to his belly. Yukimura stiffens. Under his palm, it's not Sanada. His body isn't the same. Yukimura can't speak. He can't look anywhere but to his hand and the swollen stomach he touches.
"I'm still."
Sanada smiles through his tears. Yukimura can't even begin to kiss them all away.
***
They make love at home.
Sanada says he can. He whispers in Yukimura's ear, "I need this." Yukimura won't deny him now, not even when he has to kick beer cans away from the futon.
Sanada's body is beautiful and distorted. His breasts are bigger. His hips are wider. His nipples are darker and his belly has a new roundness to it. He murmurs Yukimura's name over and over again. Yukimura comes on Sanada's leg. Sanada doesn't notice. Yukimura kisses his body, every cleft, every crack. He claims it all for himself. Sanada arches his back and sobs his release as Yukimura licks his cunt and his ass and his navel. Sanada yanks on Yukimura's hair and begs him to stop.
Yukimura pushes his dick inside. The heat and the tightness makes him see stars reflected in Sanada's eyes. There is nothing but the sounds of their bodies and his words. He tells Sanada he loves him. He tells Sanada he's sorry. He tells Sanada he's nothing without him.
"You're everything to me," Yukimura says.
Sanada cries on his chest after. Wetness drips down Yukimura's face, too, and his eyes sting.
Sanada doesn't wake up, not even when Yukimura crawls out of bed to piss at three in the morning. Arms wrap around him when he climbs back under the covers. Sanada is a heater, warm and comfortable. He snores softly. That's new too.
Yukimura pushes a lock of hair back from Sanada's face. He presses his lips to Sanada's nose. Sanada's eye twitches. He keeps sleeping. Yukimura smiles.
***
Andy Roddick emails Yukimura back.
Yukimura tells his coach, "I'm taking the season off." The coach calls him an idiot. Yukimura has heard it before. He's been called a fool by doctors. He's been called a lazyass by Sanada. He's been called an asshole by Jackal.
"I need to fix some things," he says. "I'll kick Roger Federer's ass next season."
Yukimura holds out his pinky.
"That Grand Slam trophy'll be mine. Promise."
***
"We're getting married."
His mom says nothing. She sighs heavily and picks her fingernails.
"We're eloping, so you don't need to come to the wedding."
This gets her attention. She tosses her nail file away. "Seiichi! You can't not invite me-"
"You don't like him."
"She's not a woman!"
"He's pregnant."
Her eyes go wide. She shakes her head and reaches for his hand. Her nails are covered in dust. Yukimura sneezes. "I hoped you'd find a nice, pretty girl," she says. "I wanted you to have a normal life."
Yukimura stands up. He looks at his mom and blinks.
"I do," he says.
***
It's a normal and not normal Japanese wedding. Sanada's grandfather chokes and nearly has a heart attack when he sees Yukimura's father show up in a lilac Vivienne Westwood suit. Sanada's entire family shows up. Sanada is embarrassed, but he lets his mother fix his hair.
Their friends come to the ceremony at the temple. Yukimura wears a formal kimono, complete with a hakama. He trips in his geta. Sanada's brother laughs.
They drive to Gunma in the Toyota. Niou spray-painted the back window with whipped cream. The drizzling mist makes a creamy mess. Yukimura pulls over and cleans it off with his haori. He changes into a t-shirt and jeans.
Sanada wears his shiromuku until Yukimura carries him inside the ryokan room. Yukimura unwraps it. He uncovers Sanada's skin, layer by layer: his forearm here, his knee there, his collar and then his belly. The light filters through the paper screens and the lattice windows. The air smells like pine and the flowers in Sanada's hair.
Yukimura unpins Sanada's hair. It falls around his face. Sanada leans back to expose his neck. Yukimura licks the shell of his ear. "Now that you're my wife, I can have you whenever I want," he murmurs.
Sanada moans. He licks his lips. "You could-ah!-whenever before…"
Yukimura slides his hand down Sanada's front. His fingers linger over Sanada's nipples, which stiffen in the cool room. A brazier burns in the middle, but it isn't as hot as the flush on Sanada's face.
Yukimura blinks. He smiles on Sanada's belly. His navel sticks out. Yukimura rubs it. Sanada gasps. "Don't tickle!"
Yukimura flicks it again. Sanada kicks his legs. The last layer of his kimono falls to the floor in a wave of white. He wears red panties, covered in lace. His pubic hair is shadow underneath the patterns. Yukimura cups Sanada's cunt and curls his finger around-
His mouth hangs open on Sanada's stomach.
Sanada squirms.
"Your panties don't-"
"Shut up!" Sanada hisses.
Yukimura sticks his finger up inside. Sanada writhes. Yukimura's dick is on fire. He humps Sanada's leg and hums. "That's so fucking hot," he mutters. Sanada squeezes himself around Yukimura's finger, but his cunt is too wet to stop Yukimura from stroking the inside.
The panties are perfect, really.
***
Yukimura goes to the sports centre three days a week instead of five or six.
He lifts weights. He works on his abs and gluts and hamstrings. He runs laps around the circuit inside the building. On warm spring days, he jogs along the canals near the apartment. His iPod bounces in his pocket. His cell bounces in his other pocket.
On Mondays, he plays games with Akaya (until Akaya flies to Fukuoka and Dubai and Miami). Yukimura plays to win-he always does-but the sense of lightness in his limbs and chest makes the game that much better. Akaya seethes and yells. Spit flies over the net along with the ball. Yukimura poaches, then runs left.
They walk through the campus at lunchtime. Akaya flakes out on a bench. He has a packed bento from home-Yanagi makes him one, every day. Akaya snores. Yukimura picks at the pickled ginger. Akaya naps until a university student walks up to them and asks if they are the pro tennis champions.
Yukimura signs an autograph.
"Please keep up your hard work," the girl tells him. She bows low. Yukimura bobs his head. He smiles.
"I'm not a champion yet."
***
A hundred sketches scatter the apartment. Yukimura has more time than he knows what to do with. He cleans the apartment. He scrubs the bathroom with bleach until Sanada yells at him and pukes in the toilet. He organizes the kitchen cupboards until Sanada yells at him for that, too.
Their arguments usually end up in a naked heap on the floor. Yukimura enjoys this. He touches Sanada's bare belly and dances his fingertips over the swell. It moves.
Yukimura laughs.
"Fetus-chan likes this," he says. He grabs the movement under Sanada's skin. Sanada shrieks. Fetus-chan kicks and struggles and Yukimura lets go of Sanada's skin.
"Tarundoru," Sanada grumbles.
Yukimura rubs Sanada's nipple with his thumb. He sucks on the other and looks at Sanada's face. Sanada's cheeks are swollen like the rest of his body. He changes by the day. He waddles and pisses a lot and he can't reach his feet. Yukimura's chest swells. His throat is thick.
He draws Sanada all the time. When Sanada sleeps, Yukimura sits with his legs crossed. Charcoal glides over his sketchpad. It shades the shadows under Sanada's chin and the dark lashes on his cheeks.
When Sanada poses, Yukimura asks him to lift his knees. Sanada grumbles. "This is weird," he mutters. Yukimura tells him to put his arm behind his head.
"Don't cover your breasts," he says.
Sanada sighs. He frowns. Yukimura draws the pout of his lips and the dark nipples. Sanada complains that he's hungry.
Yukimura drives around in the Toyota. Food runs happen mid-day, after supper, the middle of the night. He comes home after meeting Marui at a bar ("We only had TWO drinks!") to find Sanada sitting at the table with three Megateriyakis and a Supersize fries unwrapped in front of him.
Sanada sets down a burger. "Um."
Yukimura laughs.
"I was hungry," Sanada mumbles. He sucks on his pepsi. "I had a craving…"
"Do you need anything else?" Yukimura offers. He hugs Sanada from behind. His chin rests on Sanada's shoulder. Sanada smells like McDonald's. The curtains rustle behind them. The clock ticks the time away. Sanada's chest moves as he breathes. Yukimura rubs his belly. Sanada turns his head. Their noses brush and his lips part.
"Are the chococro places open?" Sanada asks.
Yukimura drives half-way to Saitama to find one.
***
It storms in early May, and then the flowers burst into an instantaneous blush across the city. Sanada doesn't work. Yukimura doesn't go to the university every day. He stays home and putters. Sanada stays home and snacks.
Yukimura clips the houseplants. He trims the dead leaves from the bamboo. He starts a plug tray of chili plants. He prunes the miniature plum tree. The only pair of scissors he finds are toenail clippers in the bathroom. The sound is soothing: snip snip, shook, snip snip snip.
Yukimura turns the tree around. Sanada yells "Would. You. STOP THAT?!"
Yukimura blinks. "Eh?" He trims a small twig from the tree. Sanada screams again.
"Go- just go! You're annoying me!" Sanada waddles into the main room. His face is red. His brow is sweaty. He's wearing a huge t-shirt and a scummy old pair of sweatpants covered in paint stains. He looks homeless.
Yukimura's cock hardens.
He looks hot.
Sanada slaps him across the jaw when Yukimura licks his neck. "Go away! Go cut plants at Niou's house! I can't concentrate when you're here!"
"Che," Yukimura mumbles.
Lately, Sanada's been getting moodier. He complains that his feet hurt. He complains his back hurts. He complains he's hungry. He constantly flops around at night when Yukimura tries to sleep.
Yukimura shows up at Niou's house. Niou offers him a beer. Yukimura declines.
His front garden is an overgrown mess. "Can I garden here?" Yukimura asks. "I brought my own shears."
"I have a garden?" Niou asks. He scratches a mole. It's a Saturday. Two small Yagyuus walk up to Niou and ask when lunch is. They use the polite honorifics. Niou tells them to make their own cheese sandwiches.
"Well if you want you can dig around," Niou says. "The dog probably shits under the bushes, though. Watch out for that."
"I cleaned up Ryuu's poop yesterday, Okaa-san," the oldest Yagyuu says. "I put it in the rubbish bin like always."
Niou blows a raspberry. "Go help Yukimura then."
Yukimura digs in the damp earth. It smells like the rain from last night and the mineral richness makes him breathe deep. Four Yagyuus help him. They all wear polos in various colours and shorts. They ask too many questions-is this a weed? Is this a plant? Should I pull this one, or that one? Do you think there are bulbs planted under the azaleas?
Yukimura pulls the grassy weeds. He piles them up. The strain on his knees from kneeling feels good. It is different from tennis, but equally as soothing. The earth is loose and his knees get wet from the dripping dew.
One Yagyuu walks up to him. He's maybe five and there is a mole on the inside of his glasses lens. "I found these," he says.
Yukimura shakes the packet of seeds into his palm. He hands five to each Yagyuu.
"Is this a good place, Hiromi?"
"What about here instead, Masa?"
"Hiroshi-nii-san, is this okay?"
"Toru, not THERE! Ryuu-chan digs there!"
"Oi!"
Yukimura looks up. He wipes a dirty hand across his forehead to push the hair from his eyes. Niou leans in the doorway. His body fills most of the frame. A dog runs out under his feet and yaps at Yukimura. Niou smirks. "Having fun?" he asks.
Hiromi nods. The two youngest helpers keep digging. Hiroshi Jr runs after the dog, who runs up to the iron gate and barks at a pedestrian.
Niou sips a glass of tea. He raises his eyebrows at Yukimura. "You ever think about moving to a house?" he asks. "Sanada's probably got this fantasy of 1.2 kids and an iron gate with rose bushes and furins and shit."
Inside the house, a girl's voice says, "Mother, don't swear please!"
Niou rolls his eyes. Then he looks at Yukimura.
"I don't know," Yukimura says. "Sanada never said anything."
Niou snorts. "Did you ever ask?"
***
The peonies are in full bloom. Heads of heady pink flowers dripping on their stocks fill the flower beds on the university campus. Akaya wins the Masters tournament in Miami.
He played Andy Roddick in the finals.
Sanada goes into labour.
Yukimura wakes that morning to the faint cawing of a crow outside. The toilet flushes. It flushes a second time. There are shuffling, muffled noises in the hallway. A crack of light peaks out from under the toilet room doorway.
"Sanada?" he croaks.
The bed is damp. Yukimura turns the light on. It blinds him for a moment, but the spots floating in his vision are blood on the sheets. He sucks in a breath.
He hates the hospital. He drives there in the Toyota and parks on the curb-it's illegal and he doesn't care. He grabs Sanada's arm and wraps it around his shoulder. "Stead-y," he says. His voice breaks.
Sanada's face is white. His breathing is shallow and he can't walk very well. A nurse helps Yukimura and then Sanada is wheeled off in a chair. Yukimura slams his hands on the doorway to the hospital wing. A doctor touches his shoulder. His white coat makes the blood drain from Yukimura's face.
He collapses into a chair. "My-Sanada-my wife- I have to see him!" He moans. A nurse gives him a sad look.
"She'll be just fine," she tells him.
The smell of antiseptic wafts off her uniform. Yukimura pukes in the lobby bathroom.
Yanagi comes and so does Sanada's mother. A doctor takes them down the wing. Yukimura tries to follow, but a strangled scream stops him. His blood runs cold. His heart skips a beat. The screams of women in labour is not something he wants to hear.
He sits in the lobby and waits. He paces. He calls Akaya. He calls Marui, who brings Jennie and a box of doughnuts to snack on. Yukimura nibbles. The food churns in his stomach. Jennie gets bored and Marui takes her home.
At a quarter past six, the doctor walks out into the lobby. Yukimura stands up. The doctor has a smile on his face.
Yukimura sinks down in his seat and cries.
***
He thought of the baby as Fetus-chan for so long that seeing a little person leaves Yukimura confused.
He sets his Lysol spray can down. Sanada coughs. He looks like Marui ran over him with a Chevy truck. Yukimura considers kissing Sanada's cheek. The scowl makes him reconsider.
The baby has a red, smushed face. Yukimura touches its hand and tiny fingers curl around his. "Your grip is too tight for a racket," he murmurs. He shakes his finger gently and the baby lets go.
It starts to scream. Yukimura jumps back. He cringes at the wailing. Sanada squeezes his eyes closed and grimaces, too. "Pass him to me," he says.
Yukimura opens his mouth. His stomach flips. "I-" don't know how…
"Pass him!" Sanada snaps. "He's hungry."
Morning light streams through the room. Dust motes dance on the sunlight over Sanada's lap. Yukimura reaches down for the baby and picks it up as slowly as he can. The weight is heavier than he expects-he doesn't know what to expect. The baby keeps screaming.
He pivots and hands it to Sanada.
Sanada opens his yukata up. His breast looks bigger than ever. Yukimura swallows. He can't take his eyes away. Sanada's nipple is cracked but the baby latches on. Tiny hands splay across the rounded swell. Sanada leans back on the pillows. He sighs.
Yukimura sits on the edge of the bed. He wants to leave. The antiseptic and chemical smell of the hospital leaks back into the room under the doorway. The baby doesn't do much except make sucking noises. Sanada doesn't speak either. He has purple bags under his eyes and a bird's-nest in his hair. He winces.
"Does it hurt?" Yukimura asks.
Sanada narrows his eyes. "I hurt everywhere," he grumbles.
Yukimura frowns. "When you come home, I'll make your favourite. Grilled beef, okay?" He looks at Sanada and smiles.
Sanada looks down at the baby on his breast. He looks up. His eyes are so narrow they disappear into slits. "I can't eat that yet," he hisses. "I tore down there. It hurts to piss. It hurts to sh-"
"Okay okay!" Yukimura throws his hands in the air. "I'll make jelly and soup, or something. Whatever you want."
Sanada sucks in a breath. There is a squelching sound. He moves the baby on his chest. Yukimura watches. Milk dribbles out of Sanada's nipple. Yukimura blinks. It is the weirdest thing he has seen all day. Sanada is the least motherly person he knows, and yet…
Yukimura's throat is closed off with a choke. The baby starts to shriek again. Sanada murmurs words and jiggles it. He switches breasts, but the baby turns away. The sound is warbley, not like how Hana-chan cries or Niou's kids.
Yukimura winces. His ears grate. Tension rises in the air. He scuffs his foot on the bed frame. Yukimura forces a laugh. "If he's defective, we could always return him," he offers.
Sanada starts to scream too.
***
"I was only making a joke!"
"Yes, well, he's feeling sensitive and vulnerable at the moment. Be considerate."
"I was."
"He says the Lysol made him nauseous."
"I don't like hospitals."
Yanagi pauses. Yukimura drums his fingers on the table. The apartment is too quiet. He can hear the shower drip from the kitchen. The silence unsettles him.
"That's understandable Seiichi, but he just had a baby. His body needs time to recover and his mind is probably-"
"Frazzled?"
"Quite possibly. Being in labour isn't exactly a picnic."
Yukimura grunts. He breathes through his nose and his nostrils flare. "Thanks anyway," he says. "And thanks for being with him during the…you know."
Yanagi hums. "It's nice to be a spectator for a change."
Yukimura pulls his cellphone away from his ear. He reaches down to press end when Yanagi says his name. "Seiichi?"
"Yes?"
"Congratulations, by the way. You'll be a great dad."
***
The best idea Yukimura ever has is asking Andy Roddick to be the baby's godfather.
The second best idea Yukimura has ever had is naming the baby after Andy Roddick.
"You can't be serious," Sanada says.
Yukimura smiles. He signs the form and fills it out in blocky kanji and katakana. 幸村 アンディロディック.
"Perfect," he says.
Andy screams at him when Yukimura picks him up. Sanada slaps his forehead. "I can't believe you were serious. I can't believe you were-"
Yukimura holds the baby up over his head. The baby wiggles like a limp fish. It wails. Yukimura makes a face. Andy keeps wailing. He balls his fists and his face is blotched.
Yukimura hands him back to Sanada. "We could probably get him playing tennis before next summer," he says.
Sanada gives him a sour look. He shoves the paper over to Yukimura. "If he grows up to hate us, it's all your fault."
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.
3. Second Interlude
The flight is long. There is a screaming baby in economy and his manager can't book Yukimura a business class seat. He pops in a pair of earplugs, but the sound filters through those too.
The train from Narita to Yokohama is almost as bad. A kid-maybe fourteen-pukes two stops of the way into the ride. Yukimura nearly gags on the smell. It reminds him of the hospital and things he never wants to remember again.
His skin hurts. His sunburn peels on his nose and his face is lobster-red. His arms throb under his jacket. He slips on a pair of sunglasses, then tosses his bags into the trunk of the Toyota. In his suitcase, he has a ceramic bird for Sanada. It's a kitschy souvenir-it should look perfect hanging in a window.
All he wants is to go home. Mexico was nice. It was sunny and warm. But Sanada wasn't there. Yukimura has missed Sanada's warm, soft body. He's missed sex and kissing Sanada's breasts. He's missed meals at home and the suburban sounds of the neighbourhood. He rolls the window down to breathe in the smell of Japan: damp earth and wet pine trees and bamboo. Mexico was noisy. Spanish gave him a headache.
The streets grow more familiar. Cement fences and planters filled with pansies and late-blooming roses line the sidewalks. Yukimura turns right down the main road. The apartment block juts into the horizon. It blocks out the mountains, but not the dusky blue that settles as evening rolls in.
He parks. He looks up to the third floor. The light is on in their apartment. His heart flutters. His dick hardens and Yukimura swallows. It's been a lonely two weeks. His hand doesn't satisfy the way it used to. He needs Sanada. His body hums with the anticipation of seeing Sanada's body and kissing his thighs. Yukimura pushes his sunglasses up and smiles.
There is just enough energy left in his legs to climb the stairs. He calls out, "Hello?" The door is open. Yukimura heaves his suitcase and tennisbag inside. "I'm home!"
Sanada wears a striped apron. It's new and hangs off his body, too baggy to fit properly. His throat bobs. Yukimura gives him a long, hard kiss. Sanada's mouth yields, but his hands hang at his waist.
"Did you miss me?" Yukimura asks.
Sanada turns to the burners. "Supper's ready," he mumbles. "I played tennis with Yagyuu last week."
Yukimura clicks his tongue. He peels his sunglasses off. For a moment the glare from the fluorescent kitchen light blinds him. "Yagyuu's getting worse by the year," he says. "You could have waited to play with me, Genichirou."
Sanada doesn't laugh at his joke. Yukimura frowns.
The entire apartment smells like fish stew. Yukimura's stomach grumbles. He's not sure if its airplane gas or hunger, but the food smells good-salty and rich and tasty. Sanada serves him, but the ladle slips in his hand. Stew splashes across the table.
"Sorry for the trouble," he mumbles. His face is green. Yukimura touches Sanada's hand. He wipes the stew from Sanada's fingers with his thumb. Sanada sucks a breath in.
"It's okay," Yukimura says.
"I'm preg-nant," Sanada whispers.
Yukimura freezes. The clock ticks. A train rushes by and the light reflects in his eyes as a flash of whiteness through the curtains. His chest doesn't move. Yukimura cannot breathe as Sanada's words sink in.
He's pregnant.
Sanada is pregnant and not by him.
He balls his hand up. Anger pulses through his body, red hot and explosive. In a flash, he stands up and pushes the chair away from under himself. It clatters against the wall. He must have thrown it.
Sanada stands there. The ladle falls to the floor. It is the only sound besides a cracked sob.
And then, Yukimura opens his mouth. Everything comes out. He cannot stop it. Sanada's crushed face and tears do nothing. Yukimura yells something he doesn't understand and Sanada stumbles over the ladle. He keeps yelling. He can't stop. "You SLUT! You fucking SLUT!" he screams. "You WHORE! How COULD YOU?"
Yukimura slams his hand against the wall. Spit flies from his mouth. Sanada scrambles to his feet. He shakes his head and grabs Yukimura's arm. He's been burned once. Sanada's hands burn a second time. He yells in pain and shoves Sanada off.
"GET OFF ME! IT WAS YAGYUU, WASN'T IT?!" he yells. "You fucking WHORE! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! Get RID of it! GET OUT!"
Sanada runs. He leaves the door open. Yukimura screams until his voice is hoarse and a neighbour bangs the wall.
He throws the ceramic bird against the bedroom wall. It leaves a blue mark and smashes into a hundred pieces.
Yukimura crumples to the floor and cries.
***
It rains for a week straight. Yukimura stumbles out of the apartment long enough most days to go to the university sports centre. Sometimes he stays all night and sleeps on the hard courts. He showers when the coach shouts that he stinks. He guzzles sports drinks. They leave sour, mineral aftertastes. The machines shoot balls and Yukimura slugs them back to the wall. They bounce. He seethes. He thinks of nothing. His mind is blank. There is nothing but the strain of the muscles in his arms and the pull in his hamstrings.
He stumbles out of the university sports centre long enough most days to walk to the subway station. His sunglasses hide the glare of the sun and stares of people. Yukimura touches his face. It itches. He can't remember the last time he shaved, either.
The conbini near home doesn't ask when he clears out the row of Asahis, then the Sapporos and imported Bud Lights too. Yukimura sets down a 10 000 yen bill and leaves. The clerk shouts to him. Yukimura doesn't hear.
The walk from the conbini to the apartment is the longest. Rain drips cold and damp on his jacket sleeves. His hands are numb. His sneakers are soaked through-maybe he stepped in a puddle. His toes tingle and his chest is empty.
He drinks the cans two at a time. It never fills the hollow ache inside. He looks at the futon and his vision blurs. Yukimura stands up and lurches forward. He yanks at the futon sheets, but he can't scream. His voice is hoarse and he whispers a name. He chokes on four syllables. The sheets smell like vomit.
Yukimura wakes to the sound of keys jingling. His head pounds. His stomach heaves. He grabs at the sheets; they bunch between his fingers and he can't get up. "Go away!" he yells. The voice isn't his. The words don't make sense.
"Are you all right?"
Yanagi.
Yukimura cracks an eye open. His face is wet. There is a pile of beer cans at the end of the futon. The floor is sticky.
"He's upset," Yanagi says.
Yukimura closes his eyes again. He needs another beer, not a lecture. "Fuck off," he mutters. "Sanada's a slut, that's what he is."
"It's Sanada now, is it?" Yanagi clicks his tongue. A beer can flies across the room and hits the wall. Yukimura doesn't know if he threw it, or if Yanagi tripped over it.
Rain drizzles down the window. Yanagi gives up speaking. Instead, he paws through the closet and packs Sanada's clothes into a duffel bag. Yukimura rolls over onto his stomach. A plastic bag from yesterday-or was it the day before?-sits on the floor. Inside, he feels a can. It opens with a wet pop. The beer is warm and fizzy. The bubbles burn his throat.
Yanagi stands in the doorway and the outside light creates an eclipse around his face. He frowns. "He still loves you," Yanagi says.
Yukimura says nothing.
***
He shows up at Marui's place the following night.
"Don't give me a fucking lecture," Yukimura says.
"Dude, I'm your friend, not your mom," Marui says.
"No puking on the rug," Jackal says.
He sleeps on a spare futon in Jennie's room. She listens to Orange Range and Avril Lavigne before bedtime. She bounces on her bed and asks Yukimura why he smells like a garbage dump. Yukimura's head splits open.
He pukes on the kitchen floor.
***
"The All-Asia is coming up," the coach says. "Your form looks like crap."
Yukimura wipes the back of his neck with a sweat towel. "I'll win," he says. The lights on the court are harsh. His skull throbs. His mouth tastes like cheese and celery. He snorts a wad of mucus and horks it onto the floor.
"You need to resolve your personal shit before it carries into your game even more," the coach adds. "Take a damned shower and go home. You can't play today."
Yukimura curls his lip. Just watch me, he thinks. The coach shakes his head. Yukimura flicks the ball machine on again. The countdown ticks. He jogs to the other end of the court and leans low.
He's pushed his body through training and rehab a hundred times harder than this. The coach closes the door when he leaves.
Yukimura is alone. He grinds his teeth. I don't need anyone.
The ball whooshes past his ear.
***
Yukimura says, "Let's go out." His stomach has been unsettled all day. He woke up with a hangover and went to bed drunk. He practiced at the university sports centre and slipped in the shower. The coach doesn't know about his near-concussion. His skulls pounds.
He hates that he isn't taking care of his own body. Years ago he vowed he would never be unhealthy again. But he doesn't care. He kicks himself. His heart is sick-if he can't heal that, the rest doesn't matter.
Marui fist-airs. "But I made beans and rice for supper," Jackal says. The kitchen smells like chilies and gas. Yukimura gags.
"You always make beans and rice for supper," Marui says. "We'll just be out for a bit." Jackal frowns. Marui sighs. He walks up to Jackal. Yukimura can hear Marui whisper, "Daddy will give you some sugar later, promise."
Jackal rolls his eyes. Yukimura has a headache.
They stay out until 1am and miss the last train home.
Marui stumbles on the sidewalk curb. Yukimura leans over a rubbish bin and heaves. Puke bounces back onto his face. His hair is sticky and clings to his face.
"If I had a truck," Marui shouts, "then…I could DRIVE home now!"
"A shebbi?" Yukimura asks.
They laugh their asses off and fall asleep on the steps of the train station. A janitor pokes them with a broom at half-past four.
"You can't stay here," he tells them.
Jackal makes Marui sleep outside the apartment. "You can't stay here," he says, "until you're sober or hungover. Not in front of Jennie."
Marui bangs on the door. "Come on, babe!"
Jackal fixes his bathrobe. He glares at Yukimura. Yukimura looks back. His vision is so blurry that he can't see Jackal's face when the door slams on Marui.
Crows wake them up at dawn. Yukimura shivers. He can see his breath cloud and his collar is frosted. His fingers are white and the crows caw.
He has no one and nothing.
He feels like a fool.
***
Jackal kicks him out. It's maybe a week later. It's maybe a month later. The All-Asia tournament is in ten days. The only place Yukimura feels anything is on the court. He slugs balls and smashes shots. He grinds his teeth until his jaw aches. His arms work so hard the coach warns that he'll dislocate his shoulder if he doesn't stop.
Yukimura narrows his eyes. "Ball!" he calls. He rolls his shoulder. The muscle is tense.
The coach hesitates.
"BALL!" he screams. "Give me a fucking BALL!"
He whips his arm around so fast that his racket slips from his hand. It arcs across the court and bangs into the far baseline.
"Fix things with your girlfriend," the coach says. "I'm not going to lie to the magazines any longer."
Yukimura snorts. "I have nothing to say to that slut," he says.
His coach gives up. He throws his hands in the air and tells Yukimura to shape up. Yukimura uses the self-mode on the machine until his palm bleeds and the baskets of balls are empty. He trips over the tennis balls rolling on the gym floor. The fluorescent lighting makes his stomach churn. He can taste the Pocari Sweat and instant ramen he had for breakfast. He wants to puke.
He grabs his bag and stomps into the change room. Yukimura grinds his teeth. He thinks of his coach as an asshole-he doesn't understand. He doesn't have a girlfriend who cheated on him and got pregnant with another man's baby, then had the nerve to tell him.
Yukimura shakes. His bag drops to the tile floor. He whips his headband off. It stinks like sour sweat and vomit. He sniffs his armpit. He stinks like sour sweat and vomit, too.
A shoe scuffs. Akaya looks up from a row of lockers.
"Um, senpai, hi," he says.
Yukimura peels his t-shirt off.
"So Sanada-senpai is staying with us," Akaya says.
"Traitor," Yukimura says. "Why don't you kick that whore out? He's a slut. A SLUT!" Yukimura slams a locker. His hand vibrates with the force of impact. His fingers hurt and his forearm is cramped.
"But…" Akaya groans. He scratches his head. He doesn't leave and when Yukimura showers, Akaya keeps talking. "See, the thing is, he might get rid of-"
"Good!" Yukimura snaps. Soap stings his eye. He shrieks. He tells Akaya to fuck off and go away. "Tell that slut he SHOULD get rid of Yagyuu's bastard-and even then I still don't want him back!"
Akaya bites his lip. He hesitates. Yukimura throws a bottle of shampoo at him, then Akaya leaves.
His eyes sting all night. They are bloodshot when he wakes up too.
***
Time passes in a monochrome blur of days at the sports centre and nights of drinking. Sometimes Marui comes. Mostly, Yukimura goes home and passes out. He eats when he remembers. His form gets sloppier and the coach gets angrier.
Yukimura flips through the book of shunga prints. His lip curls at the different positions. He can feel the press of Sanada's stiff nipples on his back. He can feel the slick heat of Sanada's cunt on his fingers. He can feel the hot, dry kisses all over his neck. Yukimura claws at his skin. He pries open a window and screams into the night.
A dog starts to bark.
A train rattles past. Tatan tatan. Tatan tatan.
He curls up in a cocoon of sheets and blankets. Yukimura smells Sanada on them. He smells Sanada everywhere-in the shower with the woodsy soap, in the forlorn clothes left in their closet to must, in the kitchen with the unwashed pots and pans in the sink. The fish curry from that night has turned blackish-brown. It crusts the bottom of a pot. Yukimura throws it into the communal rubbish bin whole.
There is nothing left inside himself, not even the desire to win. He steps onto the court of the All Asia Invitational. His opponent is a wiry Taiwanese kid. Yukimura looks through him. His eyes search the stands, but there is no black cap anywhere.
He sighs. "Smooth or rough?"
The Taiwanese kid wins. It takes two matches. Yukimura pushes his sweatband back from his eyes. Fuck this, he thinks.
He walks off the court. Reporters swarm him. Photographers snap pictures. Their shouts are drowned out by the sound of a hundred shutters. He knows what they want to know already. Yukimura elbows one reporter and grabs the mic from another. He throws it onto the ground.
"Fuck off," he says.
There is a voice message from his coach on his cell when Yukimura stumbles home. Yukimura deletes it. He doesn't want another lecture.
***
The newspapers show Akaya's flushed face and sharp grin.
He won the All Asia.
Yukimura snorts. "So you're finally number one, ne Akaya?"
***
Andy Roddick sends him an email.
Yukimura hasn't spoken to him since Wimbledon and that night when he and Sanada went to dinner. He closes his eyes. Sanada blushes. The round tops of his breasts peak out from his dress. He stumbles in heels and wears a necklace and the same hair pin as always. He is beautiful, even when he tells Yukimura that he's leaving the restaurant.
Sanada's dress is around his waist. His head is thrown back. His lipstick is smeared over his face. Yukimura tastes the wine from dinner and the sushi, too. He mostly tastes Sanada and the bitter heat between his legs. His sweat is salty, his skin smooth and perfect. Yukimura thrusts up. The pressure on his dick is overwhelming. He grunts and comes. Sanada gasps.
Was Sanada sleeping with Yagyuu already then?
Yukimura's blood freezes. There is no heating in the apartment. He kicked the electric heater two weeks ago. It doesn't work. He doesn't remember to buy a new one. His teeth chatter too much to grind.
He reads the email. Andy asks if he's all right-the All Asia was broadcast on a specialty station in America and he saw it.
You weren't even concentrating. What's going on Seichi? When I broke up with Mandy my game was off. You having the same girl problems? Drop me a line!
Yukimura sets his beer can on the table. He rocks back in the chair. His ribs ache.
***
"Yo."
"Who's this?"
"Puri. Don't you know?"
Yukimura grunts.
"We gotta talk."
"I have nothing to say."
"Too bad. Half-hour, the bar beside the pachinko parlour across from the north exit of Higashi-Totsuka."
Yukimura goes. Niou waits for him. There's no way to miss the fat woman in a bright blue wool coat pacing outside the bar. Yukimura drags his feet. Niou curls his lip. They go into the bar and stand. Niou orders an extra large beer and a bowl of edamame.
"Aren't you pregnant?" Yukimura asks.
Niou guzzles half his beer, then he belches. "Nope."
Yukimura looks under the bar. Niou dumped a big, black purse on the floor. "Where's your kids?" Yukimura asks.
"At home," Niou says.
Yukimura waits.
"My life doesn't revolve around them," Niou says. "Unlike some people I have a life. Sometimes I go out and play pachinko or darts."
Yukimura shrugs. "Are you paying?" Niou nods so Yukimura orders a beer, too. It fizzles inside his stomach and makes him feel ill. The smells of deep-frying chicken send bile up his throat. Yukimura drinks more.
"Stop talking shit about Yagyuu," Niou says. He fixes his bra. Yukimura can see a flash of a roll of fat from under Niou's shirt. He looks back up to Niou's face-he's older. There are tiny lines at the sides of his eyes and his cheeks are round. In the reflection of a mirror on the ceiling, Yukimura can see a man beside Niou: scruffy hair, unshaved face, pink eyes and hollow cheeks.
He looks diseased.
Yukimura swallows. He looks down at the bench. A shudder runs through his body. The bar is warm and stuffy.
"Yagyuu didn't sleep with Sanada," Niou says.
"How do you-"
"I'd fucking cut his balls off, okay?" Niou says. The bar tender stops wiping a mug. "He's never slept with anyone except me."
"Besides, Sanada's the least slutty person I know- oi! Stop listening!"
The bar tender starts wiping again. Niou leans on the bar with an elbow. His breasts push together and make a dark line of cleavage. "Are you anything without him?"
Yukimura sips his beer. He sets the mug down. His hand shakes. "What?" he asks.
Niou keeps staring at him through slitted eyes. He cocks his head to the other side. "I said, are you anything without Sanada? You guys have been together for years. Even if he did mess around on you, do you really want to lose him?"
Yukimura drinks. Niou stares. The back of Yukimura's neck prickles.
Niou starts to chuckle under his breath. The sound is so sudden that Yukimura stops. Beer slops down his chin. He wipes it off. Niou smirks. He leans closer to Yukimura and murmurs, "What if it was yours?"
"I can't have kids," Yukimura says. Even now, he can hear the conversation between the doctor and nurse. No kids. No tennis. He proved the impossible with tennis, but nothing can fix faulty biology. Nothing.
His chest tightens.
"Sanada's wanted kids for years, you know."
Yukimura snaps his eyes open.
"He was always jealous of the rest of us. Didn't he go to some fertility shrine last year too?"
Yukimura's throat is dry. He thinks about the book at home. "He…went to Kyoto."
There were never any photographs. No Sanada in front of the Golden Pavillion. No Sanada with a tacky rickshaw driver in the Gion district. No bags of goodies and pickles from Kiyomizu-dera. Nothing except a shunga book with a penis bookmark.
Stamped with Uwajima on the back.
Niou flicks edamame beans onto the bench. One rolls in front of Yukimura. His insides flip out. His collar feels too tight. He pulls at it, but he still can't breathe.
"You ever thought about getting tested?" Niou asks "Count the little swimmers?" He tucks a business card into Yukimura's pocket.
"It's almost Christmas," Niou adds. He grabs his coat from the hook and looks back over his shoulder. He rubs his breasts. "Gotta get home and feed the baby," he says.
"Christmas is loneliest by yourself, Yukimura. Don't forget that."
***
The clinic is at the hospital.
He tells himself he knows the answer. He tells himself Niou is full of bullshit, like always. He tells himself this will be the proof he needs to get over Sanada and get on with his life.
The nurse gives him a little cup and fifteen minutes. There are a stack of magazines with dog-eared pages. Yukimura flips one open. The girls nauseate him. They play with their tits and spread their legs, fingering hairless cunts that look like they belong to little children, not women.
His dick is soft. Yukimura groans. It isn't working. His impotency is worse. Soon, his balls will shrivel up too.
He thinks about the nurse. She's middle-aged and she minces like his mother, but she's a woman. He thinks about the nurse porn he used to watch as a teenager: their little pink hats and small nipples, their big bums and round tits, bouncing as they walk. His dick twitches.
His mind wanders.
There is Sanada, lying on the bed and sleeping. His back is turned to Yukimura and his hip juts into the air. Yukimura runs his hand along Sanada's bum, turning him over. Sanada is pliable in sleep, but his eyelashes flutter. He blushes and murmurs Yukimura's name.
His breasts are heavy and warm. Yukimura cups them. He runs his thumbs over Sanada's nipples, squeezing them. Sanada pants. His legs part. Yukimura crawls between them. He presses their bodies together, rubbing skin to skin. He tastes Sanada's sweat. He licks the valley between Sanada's breasts. He touches Sanada's clit and kisses the moans Sanada makes.
Yukimura comes in the little cup. He wipes his hand with a tissue, and then he washes in the sink. He pats his face with cold water.
It takes an hour.
The nurse tells him the result.
Yukimura walks outside the hospital. He collapses on a cement planter. It is frigid under his thighs. He doesn't know he's crying until a boy with a cast asks him if he is all right.
"Yes," Yukimura whispers. "Yes."
***
He showers.
He shaves.
He nicks the side of his jaw and presses a wadded up piece of toilet paper to stop the blood.
He sprays himself in cologne and wears the only clean clothing he can find.
Yanagi says nothing to him. He smiles at Yukimura. He juggles the baby girl on his hip and holds Kento's hand at the same time. Genki wanders into the hallway with a toothy smile and a glint to his eye. "Natsuko is at ballet lessons," Yanagi says. "Genichirou will be back soon. Good luck."
Yukimura nods. His body is immensely heavy. He can't open his mouth to speak. He sits in the apartment on the couch. Something pokes his butt. Yukimura pulls a Gekiranger figurine from the crack between cushions. His throat is thick with a sob. Yanagi didn't say if Sanada still is or not. It hurts to think about. Whatever Sanada chose, he'll accept.
I need you Genichirou…
There is evidence of Sanada scattered around Akaya and Yanagi's home. Shoes and folded clothing. He can smell Sanada on the couch. Yukimura touches a blanket draped over the back. He leans close and breathes it in. His heart swells. His ribs ache. Sanada has been here alone. Sanada has slept here and eaten here and lived here.
The city grows darker and darker through the curtains hiding the porch windows. Yukimura peels one back. The white-lit tops of skyscrapers and apartment blocks fill his view, blurring into the distance as he swallows again.
At the sound of keys jingling, Yukimura turns. Sanada is hidden in the shadows. Yukimura can see his form motionless by the doorway. His shoulders sink with the burden of emotion. He doesn't know how to begin. His eyes blink. Yukimura sucks a breath in and steps closer. His arms ache to wrap around Sanada's waist. His mouth burns to kiss Sanada's lips. His dick throbs to slide into Sanada's cunt.
"I thought you slept with Yagyuu," Yukimura says. "I was so wrong." Sanada tries to shake his head. Yukimura walks closer. His body moves. He tries to speak. Words are thick and forced. Sanada's shoulders shake with a sob and Yukimura can feel it. His face is hot and wet with tears.
"I thought- I thought you couldn't have kids with me. A long time ago the doctor said- I thought he said I couldn't" His voice breaks up.
In the dim light, Sanada squeezes his eyes shut. "No…" he whispers.
"I thought it made me impotent," Yukimura says. "My…disease." Sanada shakes his head again. He's crying too. Yukimura's heart shatters. Glistening tear paths streak Sanada's face. Yukimura touches his arm. "Are you still…?"
Sanada crumples and Yukimura catches him.
They kneel on the floor together. Sanada won't set his head down on Yukimura's shoulder. Yukimura strokes his hair. The tears don't stop. He combs the silky strands and holds Sanada to his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he murmurs. "Even if it wasn't mine, I would want-"
Sanada turns. His tears stain Yukimura's arm, searing his skin. Yukimura kisses him. Sanada kisses back, slow and chaste. His mouth is wet with tears. Yukimura kisses them away. He pulls Sanada close. The feeling of breasts pressed to his arm makes his insides loosen.
Sanada takes Yukimura's hand and presses it to his belly. Yukimura stiffens. Under his palm, it's not Sanada. His body isn't the same. Yukimura can't speak. He can't look anywhere but to his hand and the swollen stomach he touches.
"I'm still."
Sanada smiles through his tears. Yukimura can't even begin to kiss them all away.
***
They make love at home.
Sanada says he can. He whispers in Yukimura's ear, "I need this." Yukimura won't deny him now, not even when he has to kick beer cans away from the futon.
Sanada's body is beautiful and distorted. His breasts are bigger. His hips are wider. His nipples are darker and his belly has a new roundness to it. He murmurs Yukimura's name over and over again. Yukimura comes on Sanada's leg. Sanada doesn't notice. Yukimura kisses his body, every cleft, every crack. He claims it all for himself. Sanada arches his back and sobs his release as Yukimura licks his cunt and his ass and his navel. Sanada yanks on Yukimura's hair and begs him to stop.
Yukimura pushes his dick inside. The heat and the tightness makes him see stars reflected in Sanada's eyes. There is nothing but the sounds of their bodies and his words. He tells Sanada he loves him. He tells Sanada he's sorry. He tells Sanada he's nothing without him.
"You're everything to me," Yukimura says.
Sanada cries on his chest after. Wetness drips down Yukimura's face, too, and his eyes sting.
Sanada doesn't wake up, not even when Yukimura crawls out of bed to piss at three in the morning. Arms wrap around him when he climbs back under the covers. Sanada is a heater, warm and comfortable. He snores softly. That's new too.
Yukimura pushes a lock of hair back from Sanada's face. He presses his lips to Sanada's nose. Sanada's eye twitches. He keeps sleeping. Yukimura smiles.
***
Andy Roddick emails Yukimura back.
Yukimura tells his coach, "I'm taking the season off." The coach calls him an idiot. Yukimura has heard it before. He's been called a fool by doctors. He's been called a lazyass by Sanada. He's been called an asshole by Jackal.
"I need to fix some things," he says. "I'll kick Roger Federer's ass next season."
Yukimura holds out his pinky.
"That Grand Slam trophy'll be mine. Promise."
***
"We're getting married."
His mom says nothing. She sighs heavily and picks her fingernails.
"We're eloping, so you don't need to come to the wedding."
This gets her attention. She tosses her nail file away. "Seiichi! You can't not invite me-"
"You don't like him."
"She's not a woman!"
"He's pregnant."
Her eyes go wide. She shakes her head and reaches for his hand. Her nails are covered in dust. Yukimura sneezes. "I hoped you'd find a nice, pretty girl," she says. "I wanted you to have a normal life."
Yukimura stands up. He looks at his mom and blinks.
"I do," he says.
***
It's a normal and not normal Japanese wedding. Sanada's grandfather chokes and nearly has a heart attack when he sees Yukimura's father show up in a lilac Vivienne Westwood suit. Sanada's entire family shows up. Sanada is embarrassed, but he lets his mother fix his hair.
Their friends come to the ceremony at the temple. Yukimura wears a formal kimono, complete with a hakama. He trips in his geta. Sanada's brother laughs.
They drive to Gunma in the Toyota. Niou spray-painted the back window with whipped cream. The drizzling mist makes a creamy mess. Yukimura pulls over and cleans it off with his haori. He changes into a t-shirt and jeans.
Sanada wears his shiromuku until Yukimura carries him inside the ryokan room. Yukimura unwraps it. He uncovers Sanada's skin, layer by layer: his forearm here, his knee there, his collar and then his belly. The light filters through the paper screens and the lattice windows. The air smells like pine and the flowers in Sanada's hair.
Yukimura unpins Sanada's hair. It falls around his face. Sanada leans back to expose his neck. Yukimura licks the shell of his ear. "Now that you're my wife, I can have you whenever I want," he murmurs.
Sanada moans. He licks his lips. "You could-ah!-whenever before…"
Yukimura slides his hand down Sanada's front. His fingers linger over Sanada's nipples, which stiffen in the cool room. A brazier burns in the middle, but it isn't as hot as the flush on Sanada's face.
Yukimura blinks. He smiles on Sanada's belly. His navel sticks out. Yukimura rubs it. Sanada gasps. "Don't tickle!"
Yukimura flicks it again. Sanada kicks his legs. The last layer of his kimono falls to the floor in a wave of white. He wears red panties, covered in lace. His pubic hair is shadow underneath the patterns. Yukimura cups Sanada's cunt and curls his finger around-
His mouth hangs open on Sanada's stomach.
Sanada squirms.
"Your panties don't-"
"Shut up!" Sanada hisses.
Yukimura sticks his finger up inside. Sanada writhes. Yukimura's dick is on fire. He humps Sanada's leg and hums. "That's so fucking hot," he mutters. Sanada squeezes himself around Yukimura's finger, but his cunt is too wet to stop Yukimura from stroking the inside.
The panties are perfect, really.
***
Yukimura goes to the sports centre three days a week instead of five or six.
He lifts weights. He works on his abs and gluts and hamstrings. He runs laps around the circuit inside the building. On warm spring days, he jogs along the canals near the apartment. His iPod bounces in his pocket. His cell bounces in his other pocket.
On Mondays, he plays games with Akaya (until Akaya flies to Fukuoka and Dubai and Miami). Yukimura plays to win-he always does-but the sense of lightness in his limbs and chest makes the game that much better. Akaya seethes and yells. Spit flies over the net along with the ball. Yukimura poaches, then runs left.
They walk through the campus at lunchtime. Akaya flakes out on a bench. He has a packed bento from home-Yanagi makes him one, every day. Akaya snores. Yukimura picks at the pickled ginger. Akaya naps until a university student walks up to them and asks if they are the pro tennis champions.
Yukimura signs an autograph.
"Please keep up your hard work," the girl tells him. She bows low. Yukimura bobs his head. He smiles.
"I'm not a champion yet."
***
A hundred sketches scatter the apartment. Yukimura has more time than he knows what to do with. He cleans the apartment. He scrubs the bathroom with bleach until Sanada yells at him and pukes in the toilet. He organizes the kitchen cupboards until Sanada yells at him for that, too.
Their arguments usually end up in a naked heap on the floor. Yukimura enjoys this. He touches Sanada's bare belly and dances his fingertips over the swell. It moves.
Yukimura laughs.
"Fetus-chan likes this," he says. He grabs the movement under Sanada's skin. Sanada shrieks. Fetus-chan kicks and struggles and Yukimura lets go of Sanada's skin.
"Tarundoru," Sanada grumbles.
Yukimura rubs Sanada's nipple with his thumb. He sucks on the other and looks at Sanada's face. Sanada's cheeks are swollen like the rest of his body. He changes by the day. He waddles and pisses a lot and he can't reach his feet. Yukimura's chest swells. His throat is thick.
He draws Sanada all the time. When Sanada sleeps, Yukimura sits with his legs crossed. Charcoal glides over his sketchpad. It shades the shadows under Sanada's chin and the dark lashes on his cheeks.
When Sanada poses, Yukimura asks him to lift his knees. Sanada grumbles. "This is weird," he mutters. Yukimura tells him to put his arm behind his head.
"Don't cover your breasts," he says.
Sanada sighs. He frowns. Yukimura draws the pout of his lips and the dark nipples. Sanada complains that he's hungry.
Yukimura drives around in the Toyota. Food runs happen mid-day, after supper, the middle of the night. He comes home after meeting Marui at a bar ("We only had TWO drinks!") to find Sanada sitting at the table with three Megateriyakis and a Supersize fries unwrapped in front of him.
Sanada sets down a burger. "Um."
Yukimura laughs.
"I was hungry," Sanada mumbles. He sucks on his pepsi. "I had a craving…"
"Do you need anything else?" Yukimura offers. He hugs Sanada from behind. His chin rests on Sanada's shoulder. Sanada smells like McDonald's. The curtains rustle behind them. The clock ticks the time away. Sanada's chest moves as he breathes. Yukimura rubs his belly. Sanada turns his head. Their noses brush and his lips part.
"Are the chococro places open?" Sanada asks.
Yukimura drives half-way to Saitama to find one.
***
It storms in early May, and then the flowers burst into an instantaneous blush across the city. Sanada doesn't work. Yukimura doesn't go to the university every day. He stays home and putters. Sanada stays home and snacks.
Yukimura clips the houseplants. He trims the dead leaves from the bamboo. He starts a plug tray of chili plants. He prunes the miniature plum tree. The only pair of scissors he finds are toenail clippers in the bathroom. The sound is soothing: snip snip, shook, snip snip snip.
Yukimura turns the tree around. Sanada yells "Would. You. STOP THAT?!"
Yukimura blinks. "Eh?" He trims a small twig from the tree. Sanada screams again.
"Go- just go! You're annoying me!" Sanada waddles into the main room. His face is red. His brow is sweaty. He's wearing a huge t-shirt and a scummy old pair of sweatpants covered in paint stains. He looks homeless.
Yukimura's cock hardens.
He looks hot.
Sanada slaps him across the jaw when Yukimura licks his neck. "Go away! Go cut plants at Niou's house! I can't concentrate when you're here!"
"Che," Yukimura mumbles.
Lately, Sanada's been getting moodier. He complains that his feet hurt. He complains his back hurts. He complains he's hungry. He constantly flops around at night when Yukimura tries to sleep.
Yukimura shows up at Niou's house. Niou offers him a beer. Yukimura declines.
His front garden is an overgrown mess. "Can I garden here?" Yukimura asks. "I brought my own shears."
"I have a garden?" Niou asks. He scratches a mole. It's a Saturday. Two small Yagyuus walk up to Niou and ask when lunch is. They use the polite honorifics. Niou tells them to make their own cheese sandwiches.
"Well if you want you can dig around," Niou says. "The dog probably shits under the bushes, though. Watch out for that."
"I cleaned up Ryuu's poop yesterday, Okaa-san," the oldest Yagyuu says. "I put it in the rubbish bin like always."
Niou blows a raspberry. "Go help Yukimura then."
Yukimura digs in the damp earth. It smells like the rain from last night and the mineral richness makes him breathe deep. Four Yagyuus help him. They all wear polos in various colours and shorts. They ask too many questions-is this a weed? Is this a plant? Should I pull this one, or that one? Do you think there are bulbs planted under the azaleas?
Yukimura pulls the grassy weeds. He piles them up. The strain on his knees from kneeling feels good. It is different from tennis, but equally as soothing. The earth is loose and his knees get wet from the dripping dew.
One Yagyuu walks up to him. He's maybe five and there is a mole on the inside of his glasses lens. "I found these," he says.
Yukimura shakes the packet of seeds into his palm. He hands five to each Yagyuu.
"Is this a good place, Hiromi?"
"What about here instead, Masa?"
"Hiroshi-nii-san, is this okay?"
"Toru, not THERE! Ryuu-chan digs there!"
"Oi!"
Yukimura looks up. He wipes a dirty hand across his forehead to push the hair from his eyes. Niou leans in the doorway. His body fills most of the frame. A dog runs out under his feet and yaps at Yukimura. Niou smirks. "Having fun?" he asks.
Hiromi nods. The two youngest helpers keep digging. Hiroshi Jr runs after the dog, who runs up to the iron gate and barks at a pedestrian.
Niou sips a glass of tea. He raises his eyebrows at Yukimura. "You ever think about moving to a house?" he asks. "Sanada's probably got this fantasy of 1.2 kids and an iron gate with rose bushes and furins and shit."
Inside the house, a girl's voice says, "Mother, don't swear please!"
Niou rolls his eyes. Then he looks at Yukimura.
"I don't know," Yukimura says. "Sanada never said anything."
Niou snorts. "Did you ever ask?"
***
The peonies are in full bloom. Heads of heady pink flowers dripping on their stocks fill the flower beds on the university campus. Akaya wins the Masters tournament in Miami.
He played Andy Roddick in the finals.
Sanada goes into labour.
Yukimura wakes that morning to the faint cawing of a crow outside. The toilet flushes. It flushes a second time. There are shuffling, muffled noises in the hallway. A crack of light peaks out from under the toilet room doorway.
"Sanada?" he croaks.
The bed is damp. Yukimura turns the light on. It blinds him for a moment, but the spots floating in his vision are blood on the sheets. He sucks in a breath.
He hates the hospital. He drives there in the Toyota and parks on the curb-it's illegal and he doesn't care. He grabs Sanada's arm and wraps it around his shoulder. "Stead-y," he says. His voice breaks.
Sanada's face is white. His breathing is shallow and he can't walk very well. A nurse helps Yukimura and then Sanada is wheeled off in a chair. Yukimura slams his hands on the doorway to the hospital wing. A doctor touches his shoulder. His white coat makes the blood drain from Yukimura's face.
He collapses into a chair. "My-Sanada-my wife- I have to see him!" He moans. A nurse gives him a sad look.
"She'll be just fine," she tells him.
The smell of antiseptic wafts off her uniform. Yukimura pukes in the lobby bathroom.
Yanagi comes and so does Sanada's mother. A doctor takes them down the wing. Yukimura tries to follow, but a strangled scream stops him. His blood runs cold. His heart skips a beat. The screams of women in labour is not something he wants to hear.
He sits in the lobby and waits. He paces. He calls Akaya. He calls Marui, who brings Jennie and a box of doughnuts to snack on. Yukimura nibbles. The food churns in his stomach. Jennie gets bored and Marui takes her home.
At a quarter past six, the doctor walks out into the lobby. Yukimura stands up. The doctor has a smile on his face.
Yukimura sinks down in his seat and cries.
***
He thought of the baby as Fetus-chan for so long that seeing a little person leaves Yukimura confused.
He sets his Lysol spray can down. Sanada coughs. He looks like Marui ran over him with a Chevy truck. Yukimura considers kissing Sanada's cheek. The scowl makes him reconsider.
The baby has a red, smushed face. Yukimura touches its hand and tiny fingers curl around his. "Your grip is too tight for a racket," he murmurs. He shakes his finger gently and the baby lets go.
It starts to scream. Yukimura jumps back. He cringes at the wailing. Sanada squeezes his eyes closed and grimaces, too. "Pass him to me," he says.
Yukimura opens his mouth. His stomach flips. "I-" don't know how…
"Pass him!" Sanada snaps. "He's hungry."
Morning light streams through the room. Dust motes dance on the sunlight over Sanada's lap. Yukimura reaches down for the baby and picks it up as slowly as he can. The weight is heavier than he expects-he doesn't know what to expect. The baby keeps screaming.
He pivots and hands it to Sanada.
Sanada opens his yukata up. His breast looks bigger than ever. Yukimura swallows. He can't take his eyes away. Sanada's nipple is cracked but the baby latches on. Tiny hands splay across the rounded swell. Sanada leans back on the pillows. He sighs.
Yukimura sits on the edge of the bed. He wants to leave. The antiseptic and chemical smell of the hospital leaks back into the room under the doorway. The baby doesn't do much except make sucking noises. Sanada doesn't speak either. He has purple bags under his eyes and a bird's-nest in his hair. He winces.
"Does it hurt?" Yukimura asks.
Sanada narrows his eyes. "I hurt everywhere," he grumbles.
Yukimura frowns. "When you come home, I'll make your favourite. Grilled beef, okay?" He looks at Sanada and smiles.
Sanada looks down at the baby on his breast. He looks up. His eyes are so narrow they disappear into slits. "I can't eat that yet," he hisses. "I tore down there. It hurts to piss. It hurts to sh-"
"Okay okay!" Yukimura throws his hands in the air. "I'll make jelly and soup, or something. Whatever you want."
Sanada sucks in a breath. There is a squelching sound. He moves the baby on his chest. Yukimura watches. Milk dribbles out of Sanada's nipple. Yukimura blinks. It is the weirdest thing he has seen all day. Sanada is the least motherly person he knows, and yet…
Yukimura's throat is closed off with a choke. The baby starts to shriek again. Sanada murmurs words and jiggles it. He switches breasts, but the baby turns away. The sound is warbley, not like how Hana-chan cries or Niou's kids.
Yukimura winces. His ears grate. Tension rises in the air. He scuffs his foot on the bed frame. Yukimura forces a laugh. "If he's defective, we could always return him," he offers.
Sanada starts to scream too.
***
"I was only making a joke!"
"Yes, well, he's feeling sensitive and vulnerable at the moment. Be considerate."
"I was."
"He says the Lysol made him nauseous."
"I don't like hospitals."
Yanagi pauses. Yukimura drums his fingers on the table. The apartment is too quiet. He can hear the shower drip from the kitchen. The silence unsettles him.
"That's understandable Seiichi, but he just had a baby. His body needs time to recover and his mind is probably-"
"Frazzled?"
"Quite possibly. Being in labour isn't exactly a picnic."
Yukimura grunts. He breathes through his nose and his nostrils flare. "Thanks anyway," he says. "And thanks for being with him during the…you know."
Yanagi hums. "It's nice to be a spectator for a change."
Yukimura pulls his cellphone away from his ear. He reaches down to press end when Yanagi says his name. "Seiichi?"
"Yes?"
"Congratulations, by the way. You'll be a great dad."
***
The best idea Yukimura ever has is asking Andy Roddick to be the baby's godfather.
The second best idea Yukimura has ever had is naming the baby after Andy Roddick.
"You can't be serious," Sanada says.
Yukimura smiles. He signs the form and fills it out in blocky kanji and katakana. 幸村 アンディロディック.
"Perfect," he says.
Andy screams at him when Yukimura picks him up. Sanada slaps his forehead. "I can't believe you were serious. I can't believe you were-"
Yukimura holds the baby up over his head. The baby wiggles like a limp fish. It wails. Yukimura makes a face. Andy keeps wailing. He balls his fists and his face is blotched.
Yukimura hands him back to Sanada. "We could probably get him playing tennis before next summer," he says.
Sanada gives him a sour look. He shoves the paper over to Yukimura. "If he grows up to hate us, it's all your fault."