(FIC) The Box for sarahofcroydon By achariya
Author: achariya
For: sarahofcroydon
Title: The Box
Characters: Kikumaru and Oishi, Shishido, Ohtori, Gakuto. Atobe and Shishido. Random Jiroh (isn’t he always?). Small cameo from Kikumaru’s little cousin Hatori.
Rating: G
Summary: This is about a small, unassuming box and it’s adventures. Yes, I totally wrote box-sue. …Just kidding.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei no PoT desu.
A/N: I had to stop writing smut for a whole month to be able to write Tenifriends, and I’m not sure I can start again. :D You totally broke me! Thanks to Whisper132 for the beta. <3
Jiroh walked through the park staring down at the box in his hands.
There wasn't much to it, Jiroh thought to himself, eyeing it again. It was fairly light and entirely wrapped in brown paper. There was a postmark from the United States over lots of stamps with hearts on them - those were cute. Even the original address was smudged where Jiroh spilled some of his soda. Now it simply looked small and unassuming and a little the worse for wear.
Atobe's injunction to Keep it safe! remained firmly in Jiroh's mind. Atobe looked so scary when he'd said it. Was it jewelry? Was it something for Atobe's mom? Jiroh received no answers to his questions, just an affronted glare and huff. Of course, Jiroh immediately shook up the package to see if it was something hentai, but Atobe bopped him on the head and cried "NO!" in such a horrified voice that Jiroh didn't have the heart to tease.
Jiroh was going to get some ramen from the convenience store on the way home from Atobe's, but...that bench looked so comfortable. Jiroh sat down, leaned back, and watched a cloud disperse in the sky. The clouds were a mama bunny and three babies, white pieces of fluff hopping across the blue. "Follow us," whispered the white rabbits.
Jiroh looped his arms around the box. Must keep safe for Keigo, he thought sleepily. This park was safe, right? As long as he kept his arms around the box, nobody would consider taking it. And it had been two whole hours since his morning nap. Jiroh nodded with satisfaction -- yes, it would be just fine to go to sleep. Cuddling the box firmly, Jiroh let himself drift off.
A few moments later Jiroh settled down onto his side, and the box fell off of his lap. It tumbled down a short slope, off of a small wall, and onto another bench.
*
"One! Two! Three! Go!"
Kikumaru sprang up in the air in a handspring, landed, and immediately did a cartwheel. His little cousin Hatori squealed and laughed.
"Again!" Kikumaru Hatori demanded, tugging on his cousin’s leg with his plump, dirty fingers. Hatori-chan's face was smeared with a variety of things, including dirt and crumbs and red bean paste from his crepe, but his smile was huge.
Kikumaru hopped in a circle around the little kid. "Your turn," Kikumaru said, and swooped down to grip his cousin by the ankles. In a second Hatori-chan was upside down, swinging back and forth with his hands tickling the grass.
"Eiji! Are you sure that's okay after all that crepe?" Oishi said, brow furrowing as he gathered up their picnic items.
"You're no fun, Oishiiii," Kikumaru turned in a circle faster and faster until Hatori was spinning off the ground at a nice, high angle.
"More! More!" Hatori shrieked between spins.
"Plus, his stomach is iron, just like mine," Kikumaru cried out breathlessly. He swung the little boy around and around until they both fell over, giggling.
"What am I going to do with you two?" Oishi said, laughing and exasperated all at once.
"The world keeps spinning." Kikumaru was splayed flat on the grass like a paper doll. "And there's a box."
"Hm?" Oishi picked Hatori off the ground and wiped his face firmly with a wet-wipe. Hatori made a face and wiggled free.
Kikumaru rolled onto his tummy and crawled to the park bench while Hatori ran giggling after. Then Kikumaru sat up, inspecting the box.
"That's dirty!" Oishi called, running toward them. "Don't touch it."
"It doesn't look too dirty," Kikumaru said, frowning. He picked up the box and shook it. Something inside made a few soft shifting noises.
Hatori spotted the box. "What's that?" He asked, poking at it with a curious finger. "What's that, what's that, what's that?"
Kikumaru shook it again. Thump thump. "Don't know," he answered. "Don't know, don't know, don't know."
Oishi leaned over and inspected the label. "Hm. ______ Gakkuen. _____tei Gakkuen. Hyoutei? We're near that school, I think. Eiji, I think we should return it!"
All at once Hatori sat on the ground and leaned against Kikumaru's leg. "Sleepy," Hatori said, and slid his dirty thumb into his mouth.
Kikumaru looked down at the little boy wrapped around his leg. "Oishiiiiii -- can you take Hatori home? I'll return the box."
Oishi nodded but shot Kikumaru a sharp look. "Are you sure you can deliver it without opening it?"
"Promise," Kikumaru lied, crossing his fingers behind his back. He was curious. Really curious, and all he needed to do was buy a little bit of packing tape.
Oishi looked skeptical, but his attention was captured by Hatori's tiny little snore. "Aww. Okay, I'll do it. Just -- don't get in too much trouble, Eiji. And call me if you do."
Kikumaru beamed at Oishi. "Now -- which way is Hyoutei?"
*
"Come on, idiot! Serve like you mean it!" Shishido returned the ball underhand, tapping it back to Ohtori.
Ohtori winced at the words and caught the return in his hand. Shishido was right; it was the first match they’d ever played against each other, but his mind wasn't in it.
Ohtori stared at the exact spot where he wanted the ball to land. He threw the ball into the air, drew his breath, and tried to nail the ball straight to the spot, but at the last moment his body balked.
Don't hurt Shishido-san! The ball went out of bounds.
"AUUUUGH. Give me a real match, Choutaroh!"
Ohtori bit his lip and bowed his apology, but another voice caught his ear.
"Hoi hoi! Ohtori-kun! You're not playing against a child; he can take it!"
Who was that? It sounded like...ahh! Ohtori waved his hand and smiled toward the stands. "Kikumaru-senpai!"
Kikumaru was at the sidelines, dancing around and waving his arms. "I wanna see your serve again, Ohtori-kun!”
"Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?" Shishido's voice was grumpy, but he grinned at Kikumaru too. "Listen to him, Choutaroh! Or I'll play Kikumaru instead!"
Ohtori took a deep breath and nodded. Kikumaru's enthusiasm was overwhelming. He glanced at the sidelines again and saw Kikumaru's face, expectant, waiting for his serve. Well, fine, he'd give it. Ohtori shut his eyes for a moment and envisioned someone else on the other side of the net. Hm, maybe Oshitari-senpai. That did it. The sudden, strong desire to show the team tensai just how good his serve was blotted out all of Ohtori's reservations.
"Ikkyu...nyu..." Ohtori's arm rose. "KON!" His arm fell in an arc. He'd show that arrogant senpai...Power, 100%!
Accuracy, not so much. With a dull thud, Ohtori's ball slammed hard into Shishido's thigh. Shishido fell to the court instantly.
"Ahhhhh. Mmmfffackffffrrrrgggllleeemmmmnnnhhh."
Ohtori dropped his racket and ran to Shishido.
Kikumaru ran over too. "As the kid says, you have a ways to go yet," Kikumaru said cheerfully, clapping Ohtori on the shoulder. "Don't let it put you out too much--"
"What were you thinking, Choutaroh? You wanted to take out my leg?" Shishido glared up at Ohtori, hands clutching his thigh.
"I'm sorry, senpai! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Are you bruised? We should get you back to the club house and look at it." Ohtori bit his lip. This was an inauspicious first match, to say the least.
"Hey, you shouldn't complain about getting hit by his balls! Toughen up!" Kikumaru chided, reaching down a hand to help Shishido to his feet.
Shishido scowled at Kikumaru but took the offered hand. "Easy for you to say. Oishi's serve probably isn't that powerful.”
Kikumaru stuck out his tongue. "Well, not yet anyway. But if you want this guy to improve, you shouldn't complain so much! Got any compresses?" He helped Shishido to his feet then slid an arm under Shishido's shoulder to keep him upright. "I'll help him. Ohtori-kun, get everyone's stuff."
Ohtori dropped his head and turned, feeling like he should pay more of a penalty than this for hurting Shishido-senpai. He gathered up his racket and Shishido's and put them away, and then trudged slowly toward the club house, bags on his shoulder. Ohtori vowed to himself to practice again and again until his accuracy was unimpeachable. Oh -- wait -- Kikumaru's things. Why was Kikumaru at Hyoutei, anyway? Ohtori spotted something on the bench near where Kikumaru had been standing.
It was a box, small and plain and battered-looking. Someone had spilled soda on one side, blotting out the address, and the brown paper wrapping had been cut open and taped shut again. No, wait, what was legible on the address label said "Hyoutei Gakkuen." Odd. It couldn't be Kikumaru's. If someone left it there on the bench, they'd undoubtedly be back to find it again. But it could be a regular's. To take it, or not to take it? Which would be the better option?
Before Ohtori could decide, he heard a small bellow of pain coming from the vicinity of the club house. Leaving the box lying on the bench, Ohtori took off running to his hurt senpai’s aid.
*
Mukahi was on his way to meet Hiyoshi at the court for a few practice games. Walking was so boring. He sighed and did a small handspring. Then, perking up a bit, Mukahi did another one. When he landed from the third, he suddenly felt hands bearing down heavily on his shoulders, followed by a hard shove toward the ground.
“What the hell?!”
Kikumaru landed from his vault off of Mukahi’s back in a perfect Fuji-esque position, on one knee with his hands wide-spread and expression wicked.
Mukahi scowled. "Oh, it's you. Goddamned show-off." Behind Kikumaru, Shishido limped along beside an anxious-looking Ohtori.
"I'll help Shishido-senpai back home, then," Ohtori said, waving, voice miserable. "Nice to see you, Kikumaru-senpai."
“Who said I needed help?" Shishido replied, thwapping Ohtori, his expression turning into a scowl.
"Be nice, nya," Kikumaru said, "or I'll show up again and cheer Ohtori on." He shot Ohtori a mischievous look and flipped over to stand on his hands.
"Oy," said Shishido wearily, limping off. "No, get your arm away from me, I don't need help, I said!"
"You're doing that just to piss me off, aren't you?" Mukahi focused on upside-down Kikumaru. "That's not going to impress me!" In another moment he was on both hands too, and then, slowly, Mukahi shifted his weight to balance on just one.
Kikumaru glanced over at Mukahi and frowned, pushing himself to one side and trying his best to raise his other hand. After a second of precarious balancing, he fell over and flipped to his feet. "I totally meant to do that," Kikumaru said, huffing a little.
Mukahi got gracefully back to his feet, his day suddenly feeling vastly better. "So why are you here, Kikumaru Eiji? Are you here to harass our doubles teams?"
"Ha! As if. I was here to..." Kikumaru suddenly looked lost in thought. "I was here to..."
Mukahi cocked his head. "Don't tell me you've forgotten. Does your partner keep your brain in his head too? Is that why his skull is so big?" Mukahi pulled his pointed bangs away from his forehead and furrowed his brow. "Eiji, weren't you supposed to be doing something?" Mukahi said in his best “mom” voice.
"Hey! Shut up, he does not," Kikumaru said with a frown, but had to bite his lip to keep back the giggles.
"Were you here to see someone? Or just walkin' around?"
"I'm here to deliver a package," Kikumaru replied promptly.
"Yeah? I don't see you carrying one."
"Hm, that's because I left it...at the singles court," Kikumaru said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
Mukahi snorted. "I'm heading back there anyway. Let's go. Hey! I'll race you with cartwheels!"
"Okay!" Eyes firing up, the two boys took off down the pavement in one swift arc after another. By the time they got there, they were both panting and sweaty and laughing.
"I totally won!"
"That's only because I don't know the path as well as you." Kikumaru steadied himself on the fence and looked down the court toward the bench where he'd left the box.
The box was gone.
“Shishido’s gonna be upset,” Kikumaru said, biting his fingernail.
“Shishido?”
*
Oh boy, that had been a close one. Jiroh picked the box up from the bench and clutched it to his chest with a sigh of relief.
It's not that he'd lost the box, really.
The box simply headed to school slightly before he did.
Jiroh glanced at the time on his cellphone. There wasn't enough time to go home before meeting up with Atobe; he'd have to go straight to the little-used room at the back of the club house where they'd agreed to meet. The exchange rate was one carefully-kept box for a pound of high-quality mochi.
Jiroh frowned down at the package. It looked like the box had not only gotten to Hyoutei a little before Jiroh, but also encountered a bit of trouble along the way. Someone had unwrapped the brown paper and peeked inside, doing a rather shoddy job of taping it back up again. Jiroh felt a moment of panic -- were the contents still intact? He shook it. Yep, something soft still thumped the box's side. Whew.
But now that it was partially unwrapped, didn't that mean that Jiroh could look inside and see what it was?
Jiroh stopped abruptly, struck by the idea. He needed scissors and packing tape, pronto! He did an about-face and headed back toward the convenience store. He'd have to walk swiftly if he wanted to peek into the box before meeting Atobe!
Jiroh picked up his pace, holding the box firmly in his arms. Before Jiroh was halfway through the park he was panting from the exertion, and the box in his arms felt sticky from his sweat. He really needed to catch his breath.
As if in answer to his unspoken desire, right in front of Jiroh was his bench. It was bathed in a patch of late-afternoon sunlight and looked all warm and weathered-grey against the grass and trees. Jiroh's feet turned toward it as he pondered a small, very small, break from his jog.
Jiroh's butt met the bench before he really knew what was happening.
The sky was cloudless now, nothing but blue over the city. The wind had even blown all the Tokyo haze away. Nothing but blue. Nothing but...
The box tumbled out of Jiroh's slackened grip, rolled down the small slope, and fell off a wall, settling with a small thump upon a familiar bench below.
*
Shishido limped along the path toward the convenience store, muttering to himself about doubles partners and their powerful, yet uncontrolled, serves. He'd had to feign sleep before Ohtori would leave him alone, but now he was off to get some mineral ice from the convenience store to put on his bruise.
Somewhere beneath his annoyance Shishido knew that Kikumaru was right. He should train himself to withstand the force of that serve. It would probably be a good idea, for his own sanity if nothing else, especially since they were bound to play against each other pretty often.
Plus, he’d totally asked for it.
Shishido was going to have to sit down for a moment -- his leg muscle was killing him. He looked around for a bench. The only unoccupied one had a grubby-looking package on it. Shishido sat down next to the box, ignoring it entirely, rubbing at his thigh with a hand.
"Did Jiroh give you that?"
Shishido looked up, squinting. Atobe stood in front of him, a shadow thrown across his face from the late afternoon sun behind him.
"No, Choutaroh did." Shishido poked at his thigh again with a disgruntled finger.
Atobe bent and looked at the package next to Shishido. "Odd," Atobe said abstractly, "This has a postmark on it from America. In fact, I distinctly remember getting this package early this morning, but Jiroh had to take care of it because I was running off to a tutorial...are you sure Ohtori gave it to you?"
Shishido looked first at Atobe and then at the box in vast confusion. "What? That box? No, I have no idea about that box. It was on the bench before I got here."
Atobe sat beside Shishido and picked up the box gingerly. He tsked a few times at its condition, examining the re-taped side and water-stains. "Ah well. It doesn't matter. I'm simply glad that it got to you today."
"To me?" Shishido stared at Atobe blankly.
"Yes," Atobe said a bit stiffly. "It's to make up for your birthday present. I'm sorry it took a while to get here, but it was from America, as you can see."
Shishido stared at Atobe a moment longer and then dropped his head back against the bench, laughing loudly enough to scare away a small flock of birds.
"Cease your braying," Atobe said irritably. "It was clear from my last birthday present that we do not share a taste in gifts."
Shishido really couldn't stop laughing. He wiped a bit of water away from his eye and remembered the moment as clearly as if it had been yesterday.
Shishido sat staring at the bounty before him, all spread out on the classroom table.
"It's your birthday," Atobe said patiently, pushing the fruit and cheese platter in Shishido’s direction. "This is what I got you."
Shishido stifled his first impulse, which was to stare and ask Atobe why the hell he'd gotten Shishido a fruit plate for his birthday. It showed a bit of selflessness, after all, which was more than Shishido had ever expected from Atobe.
Atobe's expression remained fixed in a smirk. Shishido squinted at him. Or perhaps it wasn't selfless at all. Shishido had the strangest impression that Atobe was almost anticipating that he wouldn't eat it, leaving more for Atobe as a result. He'd show Atobe!
Shishido picked up a strangely tiny fork, seeing no chopsticks. "What do I eat with this?" Shishido speared a white chunk that looked like either spoiled tofu or a thick block of rock salt.
Atobe leaned back against his chair and smirked. "It's goat cheese. Eat it with those crackers." Atobe crossed his arms behind his head and Shishido could just imagine the thought process. Ah, what a philistine. He'll never eat this, so it'll all be mine. Shishido would show Atobe. He put the entire chunk straight into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue.
"As I recall, you choked and demanded that I cease to poison you with rotten milk products," Atobe sulked. "You have no idea how expensive that was."
Shishido bit his lip to stop laughing. "I'm sorry," he said with as much sincerity as he could muster. "You really didn't have to get me anything else. But this does make my day a whole lot better."
Shishido picked up the grubby package.
"So, open it," Atobe said, not really looking in Shishido's direction, but toward the pretty sunset that was spreading pink colors across the Tokyo skyline.
"In fact, this was way too nice of you,” Shishido said gleefully. “It might almost prove that you have a heart -”
"Just -- open it, you idiot."
Shishido dug his pocket knife out of his jeans and slit the wrapping. "Did you open this already?"
Atobe furrowed his brow. "Er, I have no idea what happened."
Shishido removed the brown paper, cut open the top of the box, and opened it up.
*
The park was dusky, relieved by little pools of light. One illuminated a recycling bin. Within it sat a small empty box.
"I got my American cousin one of those really cool figurines, but I need a box so that I can ship it to him," Kikumaru said to Oishi as they wandered back through the park toward their homes.
“But still,” Oishi frowned, “you should’ve called from Mukahi’s phone before you two went to the mall. Your parents and I didn’t know where you were, especially since I had your phone!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kikumaru said lightly, tapping Oishi on the forehead with his palm. “You worry too much about me. It took a while to look for that strange package, and after we couldn’t find it, we totally got distracted by shopping.”
Kikumaru spotted the empty box sitting in the recycling bin. "There we go!" Kikumaru bounded over, hefting it into his hands. "Ready for a trip to America, little box?"
“That package. You didn’t look in it, did you?” Oishi asked, shooting Kikumaru an indecipherable glance.
“Oh no. Of course not!” Kikumaru smiled sweetly at Oishi, fingers crossed in his pocket.
“It’s a shame,” Oishi said guiltily, after a moment. “I kind of wanted to know what was in it.”
For: sarahofcroydon
Title: The Box
Characters: Kikumaru and Oishi, Shishido, Ohtori, Gakuto. Atobe and Shishido. Random Jiroh (isn’t he always?). Small cameo from Kikumaru’s little cousin Hatori.
Rating: G
Summary: This is about a small, unassuming box and it’s adventures. Yes, I totally wrote box-sue. …Just kidding.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei no PoT desu.
A/N: I had to stop writing smut for a whole month to be able to write Tenifriends, and I’m not sure I can start again. :D You totally broke me! Thanks to Whisper132 for the beta. <3
Jiroh walked through the park staring down at the box in his hands.
There wasn't much to it, Jiroh thought to himself, eyeing it again. It was fairly light and entirely wrapped in brown paper. There was a postmark from the United States over lots of stamps with hearts on them - those were cute. Even the original address was smudged where Jiroh spilled some of his soda. Now it simply looked small and unassuming and a little the worse for wear.
Atobe's injunction to Keep it safe! remained firmly in Jiroh's mind. Atobe looked so scary when he'd said it. Was it jewelry? Was it something for Atobe's mom? Jiroh received no answers to his questions, just an affronted glare and huff. Of course, Jiroh immediately shook up the package to see if it was something hentai, but Atobe bopped him on the head and cried "NO!" in such a horrified voice that Jiroh didn't have the heart to tease.
Jiroh was going to get some ramen from the convenience store on the way home from Atobe's, but...that bench looked so comfortable. Jiroh sat down, leaned back, and watched a cloud disperse in the sky. The clouds were a mama bunny and three babies, white pieces of fluff hopping across the blue. "Follow us," whispered the white rabbits.
Jiroh looped his arms around the box. Must keep safe for Keigo, he thought sleepily. This park was safe, right? As long as he kept his arms around the box, nobody would consider taking it. And it had been two whole hours since his morning nap. Jiroh nodded with satisfaction -- yes, it would be just fine to go to sleep. Cuddling the box firmly, Jiroh let himself drift off.
A few moments later Jiroh settled down onto his side, and the box fell off of his lap. It tumbled down a short slope, off of a small wall, and onto another bench.
*
"One! Two! Three! Go!"
Kikumaru sprang up in the air in a handspring, landed, and immediately did a cartwheel. His little cousin Hatori squealed and laughed.
"Again!" Kikumaru Hatori demanded, tugging on his cousin’s leg with his plump, dirty fingers. Hatori-chan's face was smeared with a variety of things, including dirt and crumbs and red bean paste from his crepe, but his smile was huge.
Kikumaru hopped in a circle around the little kid. "Your turn," Kikumaru said, and swooped down to grip his cousin by the ankles. In a second Hatori-chan was upside down, swinging back and forth with his hands tickling the grass.
"Eiji! Are you sure that's okay after all that crepe?" Oishi said, brow furrowing as he gathered up their picnic items.
"You're no fun, Oishiiii," Kikumaru turned in a circle faster and faster until Hatori was spinning off the ground at a nice, high angle.
"More! More!" Hatori shrieked between spins.
"Plus, his stomach is iron, just like mine," Kikumaru cried out breathlessly. He swung the little boy around and around until they both fell over, giggling.
"What am I going to do with you two?" Oishi said, laughing and exasperated all at once.
"The world keeps spinning." Kikumaru was splayed flat on the grass like a paper doll. "And there's a box."
"Hm?" Oishi picked Hatori off the ground and wiped his face firmly with a wet-wipe. Hatori made a face and wiggled free.
Kikumaru rolled onto his tummy and crawled to the park bench while Hatori ran giggling after. Then Kikumaru sat up, inspecting the box.
"That's dirty!" Oishi called, running toward them. "Don't touch it."
"It doesn't look too dirty," Kikumaru said, frowning. He picked up the box and shook it. Something inside made a few soft shifting noises.
Hatori spotted the box. "What's that?" He asked, poking at it with a curious finger. "What's that, what's that, what's that?"
Kikumaru shook it again. Thump thump. "Don't know," he answered. "Don't know, don't know, don't know."
Oishi leaned over and inspected the label. "Hm. ______ Gakkuen. _____tei Gakkuen. Hyoutei? We're near that school, I think. Eiji, I think we should return it!"
All at once Hatori sat on the ground and leaned against Kikumaru's leg. "Sleepy," Hatori said, and slid his dirty thumb into his mouth.
Kikumaru looked down at the little boy wrapped around his leg. "Oishiiiiii -- can you take Hatori home? I'll return the box."
Oishi nodded but shot Kikumaru a sharp look. "Are you sure you can deliver it without opening it?"
"Promise," Kikumaru lied, crossing his fingers behind his back. He was curious. Really curious, and all he needed to do was buy a little bit of packing tape.
Oishi looked skeptical, but his attention was captured by Hatori's tiny little snore. "Aww. Okay, I'll do it. Just -- don't get in too much trouble, Eiji. And call me if you do."
Kikumaru beamed at Oishi. "Now -- which way is Hyoutei?"
*
"Come on, idiot! Serve like you mean it!" Shishido returned the ball underhand, tapping it back to Ohtori.
Ohtori winced at the words and caught the return in his hand. Shishido was right; it was the first match they’d ever played against each other, but his mind wasn't in it.
Ohtori stared at the exact spot where he wanted the ball to land. He threw the ball into the air, drew his breath, and tried to nail the ball straight to the spot, but at the last moment his body balked.
Don't hurt Shishido-san! The ball went out of bounds.
"AUUUUGH. Give me a real match, Choutaroh!"
Ohtori bit his lip and bowed his apology, but another voice caught his ear.
"Hoi hoi! Ohtori-kun! You're not playing against a child; he can take it!"
Who was that? It sounded like...ahh! Ohtori waved his hand and smiled toward the stands. "Kikumaru-senpai!"
Kikumaru was at the sidelines, dancing around and waving his arms. "I wanna see your serve again, Ohtori-kun!”
"Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?" Shishido's voice was grumpy, but he grinned at Kikumaru too. "Listen to him, Choutaroh! Or I'll play Kikumaru instead!"
Ohtori took a deep breath and nodded. Kikumaru's enthusiasm was overwhelming. He glanced at the sidelines again and saw Kikumaru's face, expectant, waiting for his serve. Well, fine, he'd give it. Ohtori shut his eyes for a moment and envisioned someone else on the other side of the net. Hm, maybe Oshitari-senpai. That did it. The sudden, strong desire to show the team tensai just how good his serve was blotted out all of Ohtori's reservations.
"Ikkyu...nyu..." Ohtori's arm rose. "KON!" His arm fell in an arc. He'd show that arrogant senpai...Power, 100%!
Accuracy, not so much. With a dull thud, Ohtori's ball slammed hard into Shishido's thigh. Shishido fell to the court instantly.
"Ahhhhh. Mmmfffackffffrrrrgggllleeemmmmnnnhhh."
Ohtori dropped his racket and ran to Shishido.
Kikumaru ran over too. "As the kid says, you have a ways to go yet," Kikumaru said cheerfully, clapping Ohtori on the shoulder. "Don't let it put you out too much--"
"What were you thinking, Choutaroh? You wanted to take out my leg?" Shishido glared up at Ohtori, hands clutching his thigh.
"I'm sorry, senpai! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Are you bruised? We should get you back to the club house and look at it." Ohtori bit his lip. This was an inauspicious first match, to say the least.
"Hey, you shouldn't complain about getting hit by his balls! Toughen up!" Kikumaru chided, reaching down a hand to help Shishido to his feet.
Shishido scowled at Kikumaru but took the offered hand. "Easy for you to say. Oishi's serve probably isn't that powerful.”
Kikumaru stuck out his tongue. "Well, not yet anyway. But if you want this guy to improve, you shouldn't complain so much! Got any compresses?" He helped Shishido to his feet then slid an arm under Shishido's shoulder to keep him upright. "I'll help him. Ohtori-kun, get everyone's stuff."
Ohtori dropped his head and turned, feeling like he should pay more of a penalty than this for hurting Shishido-senpai. He gathered up his racket and Shishido's and put them away, and then trudged slowly toward the club house, bags on his shoulder. Ohtori vowed to himself to practice again and again until his accuracy was unimpeachable. Oh -- wait -- Kikumaru's things. Why was Kikumaru at Hyoutei, anyway? Ohtori spotted something on the bench near where Kikumaru had been standing.
It was a box, small and plain and battered-looking. Someone had spilled soda on one side, blotting out the address, and the brown paper wrapping had been cut open and taped shut again. No, wait, what was legible on the address label said "Hyoutei Gakkuen." Odd. It couldn't be Kikumaru's. If someone left it there on the bench, they'd undoubtedly be back to find it again. But it could be a regular's. To take it, or not to take it? Which would be the better option?
Before Ohtori could decide, he heard a small bellow of pain coming from the vicinity of the club house. Leaving the box lying on the bench, Ohtori took off running to his hurt senpai’s aid.
*
Mukahi was on his way to meet Hiyoshi at the court for a few practice games. Walking was so boring. He sighed and did a small handspring. Then, perking up a bit, Mukahi did another one. When he landed from the third, he suddenly felt hands bearing down heavily on his shoulders, followed by a hard shove toward the ground.
“What the hell?!”
Kikumaru landed from his vault off of Mukahi’s back in a perfect Fuji-esque position, on one knee with his hands wide-spread and expression wicked.
Mukahi scowled. "Oh, it's you. Goddamned show-off." Behind Kikumaru, Shishido limped along beside an anxious-looking Ohtori.
"I'll help Shishido-senpai back home, then," Ohtori said, waving, voice miserable. "Nice to see you, Kikumaru-senpai."
“Who said I needed help?" Shishido replied, thwapping Ohtori, his expression turning into a scowl.
"Be nice, nya," Kikumaru said, "or I'll show up again and cheer Ohtori on." He shot Ohtori a mischievous look and flipped over to stand on his hands.
"Oy," said Shishido wearily, limping off. "No, get your arm away from me, I don't need help, I said!"
"You're doing that just to piss me off, aren't you?" Mukahi focused on upside-down Kikumaru. "That's not going to impress me!" In another moment he was on both hands too, and then, slowly, Mukahi shifted his weight to balance on just one.
Kikumaru glanced over at Mukahi and frowned, pushing himself to one side and trying his best to raise his other hand. After a second of precarious balancing, he fell over and flipped to his feet. "I totally meant to do that," Kikumaru said, huffing a little.
Mukahi got gracefully back to his feet, his day suddenly feeling vastly better. "So why are you here, Kikumaru Eiji? Are you here to harass our doubles teams?"
"Ha! As if. I was here to..." Kikumaru suddenly looked lost in thought. "I was here to..."
Mukahi cocked his head. "Don't tell me you've forgotten. Does your partner keep your brain in his head too? Is that why his skull is so big?" Mukahi pulled his pointed bangs away from his forehead and furrowed his brow. "Eiji, weren't you supposed to be doing something?" Mukahi said in his best “mom” voice.
"Hey! Shut up, he does not," Kikumaru said with a frown, but had to bite his lip to keep back the giggles.
"Were you here to see someone? Or just walkin' around?"
"I'm here to deliver a package," Kikumaru replied promptly.
"Yeah? I don't see you carrying one."
"Hm, that's because I left it...at the singles court," Kikumaru said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
Mukahi snorted. "I'm heading back there anyway. Let's go. Hey! I'll race you with cartwheels!"
"Okay!" Eyes firing up, the two boys took off down the pavement in one swift arc after another. By the time they got there, they were both panting and sweaty and laughing.
"I totally won!"
"That's only because I don't know the path as well as you." Kikumaru steadied himself on the fence and looked down the court toward the bench where he'd left the box.
The box was gone.
“Shishido’s gonna be upset,” Kikumaru said, biting his fingernail.
“Shishido?”
*
Oh boy, that had been a close one. Jiroh picked the box up from the bench and clutched it to his chest with a sigh of relief.
It's not that he'd lost the box, really.
The box simply headed to school slightly before he did.
Jiroh glanced at the time on his cellphone. There wasn't enough time to go home before meeting up with Atobe; he'd have to go straight to the little-used room at the back of the club house where they'd agreed to meet. The exchange rate was one carefully-kept box for a pound of high-quality mochi.
Jiroh frowned down at the package. It looked like the box had not only gotten to Hyoutei a little before Jiroh, but also encountered a bit of trouble along the way. Someone had unwrapped the brown paper and peeked inside, doing a rather shoddy job of taping it back up again. Jiroh felt a moment of panic -- were the contents still intact? He shook it. Yep, something soft still thumped the box's side. Whew.
But now that it was partially unwrapped, didn't that mean that Jiroh could look inside and see what it was?
Jiroh stopped abruptly, struck by the idea. He needed scissors and packing tape, pronto! He did an about-face and headed back toward the convenience store. He'd have to walk swiftly if he wanted to peek into the box before meeting Atobe!
Jiroh picked up his pace, holding the box firmly in his arms. Before Jiroh was halfway through the park he was panting from the exertion, and the box in his arms felt sticky from his sweat. He really needed to catch his breath.
As if in answer to his unspoken desire, right in front of Jiroh was his bench. It was bathed in a patch of late-afternoon sunlight and looked all warm and weathered-grey against the grass and trees. Jiroh's feet turned toward it as he pondered a small, very small, break from his jog.
Jiroh's butt met the bench before he really knew what was happening.
The sky was cloudless now, nothing but blue over the city. The wind had even blown all the Tokyo haze away. Nothing but blue. Nothing but...
The box tumbled out of Jiroh's slackened grip, rolled down the small slope, and fell off a wall, settling with a small thump upon a familiar bench below.
*
Shishido limped along the path toward the convenience store, muttering to himself about doubles partners and their powerful, yet uncontrolled, serves. He'd had to feign sleep before Ohtori would leave him alone, but now he was off to get some mineral ice from the convenience store to put on his bruise.
Somewhere beneath his annoyance Shishido knew that Kikumaru was right. He should train himself to withstand the force of that serve. It would probably be a good idea, for his own sanity if nothing else, especially since they were bound to play against each other pretty often.
Plus, he’d totally asked for it.
Shishido was going to have to sit down for a moment -- his leg muscle was killing him. He looked around for a bench. The only unoccupied one had a grubby-looking package on it. Shishido sat down next to the box, ignoring it entirely, rubbing at his thigh with a hand.
"Did Jiroh give you that?"
Shishido looked up, squinting. Atobe stood in front of him, a shadow thrown across his face from the late afternoon sun behind him.
"No, Choutaroh did." Shishido poked at his thigh again with a disgruntled finger.
Atobe bent and looked at the package next to Shishido. "Odd," Atobe said abstractly, "This has a postmark on it from America. In fact, I distinctly remember getting this package early this morning, but Jiroh had to take care of it because I was running off to a tutorial...are you sure Ohtori gave it to you?"
Shishido looked first at Atobe and then at the box in vast confusion. "What? That box? No, I have no idea about that box. It was on the bench before I got here."
Atobe sat beside Shishido and picked up the box gingerly. He tsked a few times at its condition, examining the re-taped side and water-stains. "Ah well. It doesn't matter. I'm simply glad that it got to you today."
"To me?" Shishido stared at Atobe blankly.
"Yes," Atobe said a bit stiffly. "It's to make up for your birthday present. I'm sorry it took a while to get here, but it was from America, as you can see."
Shishido stared at Atobe a moment longer and then dropped his head back against the bench, laughing loudly enough to scare away a small flock of birds.
"Cease your braying," Atobe said irritably. "It was clear from my last birthday present that we do not share a taste in gifts."
Shishido really couldn't stop laughing. He wiped a bit of water away from his eye and remembered the moment as clearly as if it had been yesterday.
Shishido sat staring at the bounty before him, all spread out on the classroom table.
"It's your birthday," Atobe said patiently, pushing the fruit and cheese platter in Shishido’s direction. "This is what I got you."
Shishido stifled his first impulse, which was to stare and ask Atobe why the hell he'd gotten Shishido a fruit plate for his birthday. It showed a bit of selflessness, after all, which was more than Shishido had ever expected from Atobe.
Atobe's expression remained fixed in a smirk. Shishido squinted at him. Or perhaps it wasn't selfless at all. Shishido had the strangest impression that Atobe was almost anticipating that he wouldn't eat it, leaving more for Atobe as a result. He'd show Atobe!
Shishido picked up a strangely tiny fork, seeing no chopsticks. "What do I eat with this?" Shishido speared a white chunk that looked like either spoiled tofu or a thick block of rock salt.
Atobe leaned back against his chair and smirked. "It's goat cheese. Eat it with those crackers." Atobe crossed his arms behind his head and Shishido could just imagine the thought process. Ah, what a philistine. He'll never eat this, so it'll all be mine. Shishido would show Atobe. He put the entire chunk straight into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue.
"As I recall, you choked and demanded that I cease to poison you with rotten milk products," Atobe sulked. "You have no idea how expensive that was."
Shishido bit his lip to stop laughing. "I'm sorry," he said with as much sincerity as he could muster. "You really didn't have to get me anything else. But this does make my day a whole lot better."
Shishido picked up the grubby package.
"So, open it," Atobe said, not really looking in Shishido's direction, but toward the pretty sunset that was spreading pink colors across the Tokyo skyline.
"In fact, this was way too nice of you,” Shishido said gleefully. “It might almost prove that you have a heart -”
"Just -- open it, you idiot."
Shishido dug his pocket knife out of his jeans and slit the wrapping. "Did you open this already?"
Atobe furrowed his brow. "Er, I have no idea what happened."
Shishido removed the brown paper, cut open the top of the box, and opened it up.
*
The park was dusky, relieved by little pools of light. One illuminated a recycling bin. Within it sat a small empty box.
"I got my American cousin one of those really cool figurines, but I need a box so that I can ship it to him," Kikumaru said to Oishi as they wandered back through the park toward their homes.
“But still,” Oishi frowned, “you should’ve called from Mukahi’s phone before you two went to the mall. Your parents and I didn’t know where you were, especially since I had your phone!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kikumaru said lightly, tapping Oishi on the forehead with his palm. “You worry too much about me. It took a while to look for that strange package, and after we couldn’t find it, we totally got distracted by shopping.”
Kikumaru spotted the empty box sitting in the recycling bin. "There we go!" Kikumaru bounded over, hefting it into his hands. "Ready for a trip to America, little box?"
“That package. You didn’t look in it, did you?” Oishi asked, shooting Kikumaru an indecipherable glance.
“Oh no. Of course not!” Kikumaru smiled sweetly at Oishi, fingers crossed in his pocket.
“It’s a shame,” Oishi said guiltily, after a moment. “I kind of wanted to know what was in it.”