FIC: Hatsukoi, SanaYuki, NC17 (1/2)
Title: Hatsukoi (1/2)
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 18 965
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all, except the references to Tian and Flying High.
Summary: First love, Sanada and Yukimura-style.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to koneko_meow for the betaing. Written for Sanada's birthday, 2008. Happy Birthday Sanada Genichirou! &hearts
This fic has been truncated into two parts due to length:
[Part 1] [Part 2]
1.
It's the start of the new year.
It's the start of a new school.
His mom hemmed his pants yesterday, but they still drag in the mud. The sweater is itchy and pills under his armpits where his sleeves rub. His backpack is brand new, a bright shade of blue. Sanada doesn't like it. It cuts into his sides with the weight of his junior high school books.
His stomach flutters like the cherry blossoms on the spring wind. His palms are sweaty. He's nervous. Sanada frowns and scuffs the toe of his sneaker. The weather has a morning chill even now, but he doesn't need a jacket.
The bus comes and he gets on. He's one of the first stops on the route, way up towards Yamanashi, almost. Not quite. Sanada takes a seat near the front of the bus. He's not small, but there are other, taller, scary looking students with dyed hair and piercings. They wear chains on their belts and have cigarette packages sticking out from their pockets. Sanada hugs his backpack to his chest. "Tarundoru," he mutters. Nobody hears him.
He doesn't know a single person at Rikkai Dai Junior High School. His brother graduated last month. All Sanada knows is that he will be in class 1A-he aced the entrance exam. He thinks about the tennis club and the kendo club. The tennis club has a good rep. The kendo club, he doesn't know.
Sanada rubs his palms on his backpack. Sweat seeps into the nylon, staining it dark. He stares out the window. A train rushes past. Maybe there are classmates on it. There are white plum blossoms bursting into flower everywhere. Last night, his family went to the yozakura in the park not too far from home. Paper lanterns hung from the cherry trees. Everything smelled sweet. Sanada runs his tongue over his back teeth. If he thinks hard enough, he can almost taste the sugary sweets he had too: sticky cherries on crackers from a stand, sakura ice cream and the sour umeboshi, fresh from his mom's pickle pot.
His bento is packed for two.
"Try to make some new friends," his mom told him this morning. Sanada feels ill thinking about it. He can't throw out the food-it would be wasteful-but he doesn't want to ask strangers to eat with him either. He swallows hard. He squeezes his eyes closed. Nobody notices.
The bus pulls up to another stop. The only seat left is the empty one next to Sanada. No one sits down. Students pass him by. He stares at his hands. Shame flushes his face. He scowls deeper. His insides are hot and they hurt.
"I know you."
Sanada looks up.
He's standing there. He's touching the metal rail, then he slides into the seat beside Sanada without even asking. Yukimura smiles at him. "We played tennis last year, remember? I beat you 6-4."
Sanada says nothing. He clenches his jaw. Yukimura's knee touches his. Sanada stiffens. He hugs his backpack tighter.
"Are you trying out for the tennis team?" Yukimura asks. There is a racket handle sticking out from his the top of his backpack. It's new and the vinyl is shiny, just like Sanada's, but Yukimura's is pale blue, with white stripes.
Sanada looks at his hands. His palms are red and sweaty still. The bento in his bag pokes a square side. His stomach churns. Try to make some new friends… He sighs. It sounds like a huff. Yukimura keeps looking at him. Sanada's mouth feels dry and his sneakers feel soggy from the puddle he stepped in on the way to the bus stop.
"I don't know," he grumbles.
"Well you have to," Yukimura tells him.
"No I don't!" Sanada says.
"Yes you do!" Yukimura says, right back at him. His breath smells like fried fish. Sanada had an omelet for breakfast. There are crab rolls and onegiri with bean paste in his bento.
"Leave me alone," Sanada mumbles. He rests his chin on the top of his bag. Yukimura keeps looking at him with big eyes. His staring is distracting. Sanada stops trying to look out the window at the rushing suburbs. He sighs. "What do you want?"
Yukimura's smile wavers. He holds out his hand and he ducks his head a bit. "Sorry," he says. "You're the only person I know going to Rikkai." He opens his mouth, but he doesn't say anything more. He keeps his hand out. Sanada considers it. He hesitates. Yukimura's smile starts to thin when Sanada pushes down the squeeze in his chest. He takes Yukimura's hand.
It's sweaty too.
"It would suck to eat lunch alone on the first day," Yukimura says, after. Sanada nods. Relief relaxes his shoulders. Sanada wipes his hands on his pants. Yukimura keeps smiling. Sanada's heart does funny things. It starts to throb, like he's watching a samurai drama and the main character is about to die and his throat is all thick and closed off. The sky reflects in Yukimura's eyes; the scenery changes in his pupils.
"I…I have extra in my lunch," Sanada says. "If you want to share…" His head is all floaty. A crow sits on top of a traffic light post that the bus pauses at. Students talk on the bus, one loud droning noise, but Yukimura's silence is distinct. Sanada starts to kick himself inside.
"Okay," Yukimura says. "But only if you join the tennis team."
They shake on it.
At the school gate, they walk together. It's not as scary with someone at his side. Sanada lifts his head higher. He's as tall as some of the juniors, but everyone seems to know he's new. His backpack, his crisp pants, and the sharp colour of his sweater all give it away. Yukimura pokes him in the side.
"Hey," he says. He reaches out. In the blink of an eye, he has Sanada's cap on his index finger. Sanada lunges for it.
"This would look cooler the other way," Yukimura says. Sanada says nothing. Yukimura puts his cap back on. He pulls it down over Sanada's eyes by the brim. Yukimura laughs and the sound makes Sanada feel fluttering inside all over again.
At lunch, Yukimura eats all of the crab rolls.
He gives Sanada one of his mushroom shumai. It tastes better than anything Sanada has ever had before. The salty taste of Yukimura's sweaty fingers, rubbed onto the dumpling, lingers in Sanada's mouth all night.
On the morning of the second day of school, Sanada wakes up from his first wet dream.
It's the start of something completely new.
2.
With the wet dreams come erections. Sometimes Sanada will be in the middle of a game against Nishiki-senpai, or Renji or the coach and he'll hear Yukimura's voice. He remembers the dreams with Yukimura licking his lips. His remembers the dreams with Yukimura laughing. He remembers the dreams with Yukimura poking him in the side with a racket frame. His dick twitches. It swells up and Sanada flushes with a fever.
"All right, kid?" Nishiki asks.
Sanada glares at the ground. This isn't all right.
It isn't all right to feel his insides melt when he sees Yukimura. It isn't all right to shiver when Yukimura steals pickles from Sanada's cafeteria lunch special and their fingers brush. It isn't all right to stutter when Yukimura says good morning.
Sanada lies on the cot. The nurse sticks a thermometer under his tongue. The glass is cold. A hand touches his forehead. "You don't have a fever," he says.
"I'm sick!" Sanada says.
But he stops when the nurse asks why-Sanada can't say why. Thinking about Yukimura like that is wrong. He breathes through his nose; his nostrils flare. Sanada leans on the edge of the cot. His stomach is queasy.
"If you develop a rash come back," the nurse tells him. He winks at Sanada. "It could be just love sickness at your age, ne?"
A cold sweat drips down Sanada's neck. He leans on the wall in the corridor. He breathes. He thinks about his meditation poses. For a moment he can hear the sound of a shamisen being plucked. Then, a string breaks in his mind. He cringes at the grating screech.
In class, Renji leans over. He sets a folded note on Sanada's desk. It is in the shape of a crane. Are you OK?
Sanada looks at him. Renji raises his eyebrows under his fringe. Sanada looks at the note in his hands. They shake.
Do you want to play in practice? Sanada writes back. His kanji are scribbly. His pen rolls onto the floor as the teacher lectures. The entire class turns to stare at him. Sanada cannot hide under his cap during lessons-it's put away on the top shelf of his locker.
He can avoid Yukimura when he plays tennis with Renji. Renji's good at volleying. Sanada is better at offense. Yukimura is good at everything-he beat the captain first practice. They are the only freshmen who are regulars. The yellow jersey is too big on Sanada, but it hangs off Renji more.
"Did Seiichi tell you his idea?"
Sanada grunts. "No," he says. His hold slips on his racket. The ball lobs up. Renji runs for it, but he pauses mid-step and looks up. The ball arcs into the sun. For an instant, it's lost. Then it hits the roof with a hollow smuck.
Sanada narrows his eyes. His chest feels tight. His sneakers pinch his toes. His knees hurt, and his stomach does too. He can hear Yukimura laughing with Marui. He wants to cry. Or maybe barf.
If Yukimura knew the truth, he wouldn’t like Sanada anymore.
Sanada's eyes sting. Yukimura runs over to their court. "Did Yanagi tell you my-"
Sanada runs into the gym. He picks up balls with Niou the rest of practice. His knees are pink and splotchy from the grit of the gymnasium floor. They creak when he walks home. It's almost dark out. He calls his mom to tell her he's on his way.
Flies hum in the dusky purple light. Sanada's breathing dissolves into the rattling trains across the road. Late evening birds chirp in the trees before they go to sleep. It's Sanada's birthday this week. Only Renji, with all his data, knows.
His phone buzzes. Sanada flips it open. There's a message from Yukimura and Sanada's pants are too tight all over again. Sanada deletes the message, but his erection doesn't go away.
His brother teases him. "Mom washed your sheets again, Gen-chan," he says. He takes Sanada's cap and tosses it into the air. Sanada tells him to give it back. His brother ruffles his hair. Sanada tries to punch his brother in the stomach.
He gets sent to bed early.
In the dark, he lays there with his hand around his dick. Sanada thinks about Yukimura's hair fluttering when he serves. He thinks about seeing Yukimura's bum in the clubhouse showers. He thinks about smelling Yukimura's sweat and shampoo and the powdery smell of laundry detergent on his uniform. Sanada sniffles. His face is wet when he comes.
In the morning, he catches the early bus. Yukimura always rides the 6:45am-he's not there. Sanada is the first in the clubhouse. He unlocks it. It feels good to have a key. Only the regulars have them. It feels good to feel the cool morning air on his bare arms. It feels good to walk on the courts, still damp with dew. The ball has a different bounce at this hour.
Sanada hits a tennis ball against the brick wall. The thwock is soothing. He hits it harder, then he switches to a backhand. There are footsteps behind him. Sanada catches the ball on the gut of his racket. It bounces four times before he pockets it.
"Good morning," Renji says.
Sanada nods. "Morning."
Yukimura steps out from the corner. A crow flies out of a hydrangea bush, ruffling its feathers and cawing as it flaps above Sanada's head. His stomach sinks. His intestines are twisty. His throat is closed up. He looks at the wall and feels like a fool. He can't even look at Yukimura anymore without his palms getting sweaty and his dick getting hard.
Yukimura will hate him.
"Why are you avoiding me?" he asks.
Sanada sniffs. He doesn't answer. Renji touches his shoulder. There is an unsettling little smile on his lips.
"Seiichi has the best idea," he says.
Sanada still says nothing.
Yukimura touches Sanada's other arm. He bites his lip. His forearm burns. He winces. Yukimura's eyebrows knit together, then he says, "We're going to win the Nationals three years in a row. You're gonna help, Sanada."
Sanada blinks. "What?" he mumbles.
Yukimura nods. A grin breaks out on his face. Renji's eyes dance. The sun streams down through the zelkova trees in steamy rays filled with dust motes and pollen. "We're gonna do it," he says. Yukimura holds out his little finger. "And we gotta shake on it. Yanagi and I need you, Sanada. We gotta do it, all three of us."
Renji holds out his pinky too.
Only Sanada is left. His hand is pressed to his shorts. His palm is sweaty and hot. He can't shake on anything. They'll both know. Yukimura will be grossed out.
Yukimura takes his hand and pries his fingers apart. Sanada's mouth hangs open as their pinkies hook, all three, and they shake on the promise.
Renji walks away first. He swings his racket around in a circle. Sanada hasn't moved. His feet are glued to the spot. Yukimura hasn't unhooked their fingers. Sanada can't stop shaking.
"Hey," Yukimura says. His voice is a whisper. Other voices shout and tennis balls bounce on the courts behind them. Here, it's shady and quiet. Sanada's heart pounds. "Hey, it's your birthday this week, isn't it?"
Sanada can't breathe, either.
Yukimura slides his pinky down Sanada's. The touch is feather light. A shudder passes through Sanada's thighs. His knees wobble, all jelly-like.
"You wanna go to a café?" Yukimura asks. "Just me and you?"
Before Sanada can answer, Yukimura runs off at the sound of the captain calling his name. He pivots on his heel to wave at Sanada, and then he runs faster. Sanada stands in the same spot until the bell for classes ring. He wipes his eyes with the hem of his t-shirt. The memory of the smell of powder and sweat remains fresh in Sanada's mind all through morning classes.
3.
Sanada doesn't know how his brother finds out. His hair is wet from the shower and combed to the sides. He's wearing the t-shirt from the Gap that his mom bought him and a pair of jeans. Sanada packs his tennisbag and stuffs his cap and a spare can of balls inside. His hands shake on the zipper.
"Got a date, Gen-chan?" his brother asks.
Sanada's eyes widen. He can feel his face burning. His brother grabs him in a headlock and messes his hair. "Stop!" Sanada shouts. "Don't! Tarun-"
His brother chuckles when he walks off. Sanada looks in the mirror. He scowls at his reflection. He licks his fingers and smoothes his hair down, but the cowlick springs back up. "Stupid brother," he mutters.
It's not a date. Yukimura isn't like that. It's just…going somewhere together. They can talk about tennis. Maybe they can play on a streetcourt after.
Sanada looks out the bathroom window, underneath the open pane of frosted glass. Rain drips off the edge. The sky is a slate colour. It rumbles. He frowns.
So maybe they won't play tennis afterwards.
He meets Yukimura at the Mr Donuts outside of Bashamichi station. Yukimura waves from underneath a clear umbrella. The sky drizzles, but Yukimura has his tennisbag with him too. Sanada tries to smile. His mouth doesn't work. He scuffs his new sneakers and feels weird dressed up like this.
"There's a café this way," Yukimura says. "My mom said it was good."
They walk through a park, going nowhere. The Yokohama skyscrapers fill the air. Puddles soak through Sanada's sneakers and make his socks soggy. The hems of his jeans are wet, too, from dragging along the pavement. Yukimura's umbrella bobs. It bounces as he walks. He skips. He turns around and smiles at Sanada. Sanada's insides slither into his underpants. He's hard again. He can't look Yukimura in the eye.
"It's too bad we had practice on your birthday," Yukimura says. "But this is okay, right? Even if it's a bit late?"
Sanada nods. He looks out at the bay. A cargo ship chugs across the water. It's the same colour as the sky: ugly and grey. Choppy waves brush up against the cement embankment. The flower beds in the park have curled up, their blossoms retreating. Sanada crawls into his t-shirt as far as he can. Without his cap on, he's naked.
They walk for a while, then Yukimura turns down a busy street. Sanada trudges behind him. Yukimura flips his cellphone out. Sanada swallows. It could be a message from someone else. Maybe Yukimura has somewhere better to be. Thinking about that makes Sanada stop walking all together. He stands outside a Claire's store. Streams of girl push him this way or that. They swarm around him. They flash dirty looks and frowns. "Excuse me," one girl hisses.
Sanada's throat is tight. A sob makes his chest shudder. He could just go home. When he looks up down the street, he doesn't even see Yukimura anymore.
"Sanada!"
Someone reaches out and suddenly grabs Sanada's hand. He pulls back. He looks up. Yukimura is there. Yukimura's warm hand clasps his. Fingers thread between his and tug gently. Yukimura's forehead is scrunched up. He's frowning and saying something about losing Sanada. Sanada can't hear, for all the traffic rushing by. He lets his body go and be pulled by Yukimura down a side street.
"Sorry," he mutters.
Yukimura doesn't listen.
The café has a terrace outside, but the umbrellas are tucked away. Rain pools on the tops of the tables. Yukimura sets his umbrella in the stand inside the doorway. Sanada taps his sneakers on the doorframe. Water drips off his tennisbag.
It's a nice café, filled with the smell of roasted coffee and couples dotted around the tiny tables. Sanada feels grown up, sitting across from Yukimura. They order parfaits. All Sanada can think about is Yukimura's knee brushing his underneath the table. His heart beats doki doki in his chest. Strains of European music float through the background. Yukimura's hair falls over his eyes. His eyelashes drip with rain too. Under the light here, the water droplets look like glass.
Sanada sighs.
Yukimura stops whipping his parfait up. He looks over the rim of the parfait cup. Sanada swallows a lump in his throat, then he looks away. Guilt stabs his belly. Last night, he imagined that he and Yukimura were in a café, alone, where he confessed. He told Yukimura things too embarrassing to remember now, but they were heartfelt and true. He imagined that he kissed Yukimura and that Yukimura kissed him back.
Now, there is acrid bile at the back of his mouth.
"You haven't touched your parfait," Yukimura says. "Don't you like chocolate?"
It hurts to breathe when Yukimura leans closer. His shoe taps Sanada in the shin.
"I picked a shitty day to come here, didn't I?" Yukimura asks. His shoulders sink. He sniffles too. "That's why you're so down."
A second stab of guilt cuts through Sanada's ribs. He shakes his head frantically. "N-no!" His voice breaks. Sanada feels the fool a hundred times over again. "No," he whispers. "I'm sorry."
Awkward silence hangs over them. Sanada hangs his head. Yukimura sighs again. He looks sad sitting there. His back is to the window, where rain sluices down and makes the day even more miserable. Sanada doesn't know what to say to fix things. Yukimura's face flickers with emotion: sadness, a grimace of pain, then a crestfallen frown. It's all Sanada's fault.
He stares at the table top. His parfait cup drips condensation onto the surface, like it's crying.
"Sanada, you can go home if you don't want to be here," Yukimura mumbles finally.
Sanada sucks in a breath. Yukimura's lips are pursed. Then they start to quiver. His chin wibbles. Sanada's heart stops with the fear he's done something irreversible, like making Yukimura cry.
But Yukimura just bursts out laughing instead. He kicks Sanada in the shin under the table. Sanada stares at him. The laughter dies down when a barista looks up at them. Sanada tries to hide from the stares by scowling. Yukimura smiles at him.
"I was joking," he says.
Sanada frowns.
"You looked sad," Yukimura says. "I…I don't know what to do when you look like that, Sanada. You should smile more. You look nice when you smile. The girls say…"
Yukimura looks at his parfait. He stirs his spoon around. The cream and cake and fruit mixes into a frothy soup. Yukimura looks at his hand after, but not Sanada. His cheeks look flushed.
Sanada is so hot inside that he excuses himself before they leave. He rushes into the bathroom and splashes water on his face. His reflection in the mirror has red cheeks and a puffy bottom lip from biting it all afternoon. But his eyes are bright.
He almost wishes Yukimura would have finished what he said about what the girls. But he can't ask. He can't hope.
He can only imagine.
4.
The Nationals are such a dream. Too far, too high, too out of reach.
If they win, Sanada will confess.
5.
They win the Nationals.
In the photograph, Yukimura holds the certificate. He's flushed and beaming. Renji holds the team flag with his one hand and Yukimura's shoulder with his other. He and Yukimura played doubles two together.
Sanada played singles three. He won his game, but in the photograph, he turns away and scowls. His hair is a mess from being rubbed by senpais. The trophy in his hands sparkles under the August sunlight.
Weeks later, the senpais tease him when they pass around the developed photographs. The summer haze has lessened. The insects aren't as loud, the mornings aren't as sweaty. The OBs have been retiring one by one.
No one asks what Sanada was thinking that day. They whack him on the ear. He cringes. They laugh and say, "He's always pissed off looking! Check out this pic, too."
Sanada's thought of nothing but confessing for three weeks. He doesn't remember when he last slept. There are purple bags under his eyes. He falls asleep in home economics class-Renji wakes him up before their cake burns. He practices in the dojo in the middle of the night until his grandfather stomps into the room and tells Sanada to get to bed.
He walks around like a ghost, half present, half gone.
He doesn't have to do this, he needs to. He made a promise to himself to be true to his emotions. Fear of rejection chokes his breathing when Yukimura waves good bye after they walk home every evening.
"Are you all right?" Renji asks.
Sanada doesn't nod. He stares at his bento. The rice sticks to the roof of his mouth. Today is his deadline. It's a self-imposed burden he bears. His shoulders ache all the time. Sanada glances out the window of the stairwell across the school grounds. The willow tree rustles in the wind. Its long branches sway softly. There is a boy and a girl standing by the thick trunk. A confession is taking place.
Sanada's face burns as he turns away.
He roofs three balls in a row during practice.
"Nice play," Marui says. He snickers. Then he goes back to picking up balls for Nishiki and another senpai.
Sanada runs behind the tool shed. He sniffles. He wipes at his eyes and sniffles again. He presses his hands to the wall of the shed and exhales. His chest shudders again.
Niou walks out from the corner. "Yo," he says. Sanada freezes. Niou slinks off before Sanada can stop him. His heart sinks lower into his intestines. He's doomed.
The sky rumbles. Dark clouds spill over the courts and cover everything in a dim gloom. Sanada leans on the tool shed. He plays with the brim of his cap, flipping it in and out. It snaps back against his hands. "Ow," he mumbles.
"Sanada?"
Yukimura walks up to him. He bites his lip. His headband falls over his eyes until Yukimura pushes it back up with his knuckles. He's sweaty from practice. The wind whips up the hem of his t-shirt. Sanada tries not to look at Yukimura's pale tummy. It makes his mouth dry up seeing the smooth skin around Yukimura's bellybutton.
"Are you okay?" Yukimura asks. He peers up at Sanada-Sanada's grown another six centimeters since July. Sometimes his voice cracks. Sanada keeps his mouth closed, but his throat bobs anyway.
Practice has ended. The players scatter. Most of them walk toward the clubhouse. The safety of the tool shed, wedged between the manicured hydrangea shrubs and the clubhouse wall, also dissolves. Sanada starts to walk away. His mind swims. The air is thick and damp. He can taste the nitrous atmosphere that heralds a coming storm tonight.
Yukimura's keys jingle in his pocket as he runs after Sanada. Sanada rushes. Yukimura jogs to catch up. Sanada turns left and stops under a tree. The wind haunts the branches. Yukimura haunts him.
"Sanada," Yukimura says.
No one else is around. Leaves litter the ground under the tree's canopy. Sanada's legs shake, but he keeps standing. Yukimura ducks his head down. Sanada bites his lip to stop himself from gasping. His dick is hard. Yukimura probably sees it, that's why he's backing up and walking away. That's why his lip trembles and he grimaces.
The wind gathers. It's strong enough to blow Sanada's cap off his head. His body moves to run after it, but his mouth works first. Sanada says words he only understands when they hang in the air between the two of them.
"I like you."
Yukimura's hair blows all around his face and Sanada can't see his expression. Someone moans-or maybe it's the wind. The tree shudders and sighs. Sanada's knees wobble like jelly. He starts to sink to the ground when Yukimura takes his hand.
It's a sweaty, clammy hold. Yukimura's grasp is tight. He pulls Sanada up and starts to run. Sanada stumbles over a tree root. Yukimura keeps running. He shrieks something. The canopy of willow leaves breaks, like a curtain, and they run across the school campus as the rain droplets start to fall.
Yukimura runs after the cap, which blows across the grass. Two of their teammates-maybe Marui and his brown friend-walk by and turn to see Sanada being pulled along. Yukimura yanks his arm. Their hair whips up. Leaves swirl around them. The sky cracks with a bolt of lightning. Rain starts to pour down onto the backs. Yukimura yells, but Sanada can't hear the words.
Yukimura grabs the hat from underneath a bristling bush. He sets it on Sanada's head, pulling the brim down over his eyes. His hand is warm and damp in Sanada's still. "I like you too!" Yukimura shouts over the rain. He grins. Water runs down his face.
He doesn’t get it. His smile laughs at Sanada just as much as the senpais have all week. Sanada shakes his head. Yukimura laughs. Anger bubbles up out of Sanada and down into his fist. He slaps Yukimura on the cheek.
Yukimura's face is transfixed for a moment. Water runs down the frozen lines of his smile. Rain pools in his dimples. Sanada sucks in a breath through his teeth. He swallows hard. Yukimura is a statue as his eyes darken and sink inside themselves.
Sanada's blood runs cold. What have I done…?
"I like you," Yukimura whispers. "I wasn't joking about that."
"As- as a friend," Sanada says. His chest collapses. His ribs crack. His heart breaks inside, spilling frigid blood through his belly. He can taste blood in his mouth. Sanada closes his eyes. Everything is ruined and it's all his fault.
But Yukimura squeezes his hand. He pushes his fingers through Sanada's, wedging them apart and forcing himself into Sanada's space when he steps closer. He looks up. He pushes Sanada's cap enough to see his eyes. Yukimura's gaze doesn't waver.
"I like like you," he says. "Like…first love."
Sanada doesn't know if the rain is making his face hot and wet, or if it's something else.
6.
When no one is looking, Yukimura sometimes reaches for Sanada's hand. They stand at the bus stop. It's winter and the trees are bare. The sky is clear and the sun is dim. Frost creeps up on the edges of puddles on the road. Sanada wears his black mittens.
His toes are cold in his sneakers, but his hand is warm in Yukimura's. Yukimura says, "It's almost winter break" and his breath makes a cloud puff in the air.
"Yes," Sanada says. He breathes, too, and squeezes Yukimura's hand tighter, just in case their grip slips. His face feels hot, so he buries it into his scarf to hide the blush. Yukimura notices-he always does-and he laughs.
So does Niou.
"Oi, lovebirds," he says. Sanada's face burns. Yukimura snatches his hand away, leaving a cold memory in Sanada's palm. Sanada scowls as Niou wedges himself between the two of them and wraps his arm around Sanada's shoulder. "Don't be gay," Niou says.
"Go away," Sanada mutters.
Niou squeezes his arm tighter around Sanada's neck. Sanada cringes. Niou still doesn't leave when Yukimura elbows him and says, "Ne, didn't you say you were going to play darts at the arcade today?"
"Puri," Niou says.
Sanada huffs. He hands Niou a 500 yen coin. "Go away," he says.
"Cool, thanks," Niou says. He pockets the coins and goes away. At the end of the street, right before he turns the corner, he turns to wave to them. Only Yukimura waves back. Sanada represses the urge to hit something.
Renji's uncle has a pension in Fukushima. It takes all morning and half the afternoon to get there: local trains from home to Koriyama, then slow, chugging lines to the coast. It's just after Christmas and the frost has spread south, spread out enough to cover window panes of the van that Renji's uncle picks them up in. There are seven freshmen: Sanada, Renji and Yukimura, Niou and Marui, Marui's brown friend named Jackal and a boy named Yagyuu, who's in Sanada and Renji's class. Sanada has never spoken to Jackal or Yagyuu before today.
"So you all play tennis?" Renji's uncle asks. He's short and fat and has wide, round eyes. He looks nothing like Renji.
"Yes sir," Yagyuu says. He has the personality of Sanada's family stone. Sanada doesn't understand why Renji invited him along.
The mountains nearby are covered with snow, but this close to the ocean leaves nothing but a barren cold over the landscape. Sanada shivers in his coat and wishes he'd worn more than his sneakers. Yukimura doesn't hold his hand when they unload their bags at the pension.
Then pension is drafty and a few blocks from the sea. The walls groan and shake, the floors creak as Sanada shuffles across in the slippers he brought. Marui is complaining already: he's hungry, he doesn't want to do 'training', is it time for hot pot yet?
"Stuff it, fatty," Niou mutters.
"Shove it, bleach brains!" Marui snaps right back at Niou. They fought the entire way up here. Sanada has a headache. He wants to crawl under a futon and close his eyes, maybe rest his head on Yukimura's shoulder and breathe in his smell. This is the first time he's been away from his parents.
Niou, as annoying as he is, put awful thoughts in Sanada's head a few weeks back. He texted Sanada a message, u know that thers no parents to catch u doin shit
Sanada bites his lip. He straightens his back and tries not to think about there being no parents here, just Renji's uncle and his equally dumpy aunt who has all the futons folded up in a corner of their room. Guilt stabs Sanada's stomach when he looks at Yukimura and wonders what Yukimura looks like when he sleeps. Over the past few months, Yukimura's grown taller too, and his face has a leaner, older look to it. Sometimes his voice cracks.
Sanada wonders if Yukimura ever masturbates. Sanada does it so much that there are mornings his dick hurts when he touches himself. They've never touched each other that way. They've never even kissed.
There's hot pot for supper. Marui gushes. Renji's aunt feeds him more. Sanada stirs his around in the bowl. He's hungry, but his insides are so knotted and his skull so sore that he can hardly swallow. He needs the energy for tomorrow. According to Renji's schedule, training starts at 6am with calisthenics by the creek.
As in, stand in the freezing creek and do calisthenics.
Sanada frowns. He doesn't look forward to that. But he's not going to tell Renji or anyone else. He bites back a yawn and tries another bite. The konyaku makes him gag.
After supper, when the moon shines pearly and bright through the windows and the night is still, Jackal and Marui and Niou play with their gameboys, hooking up a three-way system of cables that crisscross in a big mess. Yagyuu and Renji talk about homework and books. Yukimura yawns.
"I'm going for a bath," he says. He looks at Sanada. "Yanagi-san said it was a cedar bath."
Sanada nods.
Yukimura shifts his weight onto his other foot. Sanada scuffs his slipper. "Well…" Yukimura says. "I'll go then."
Sanada nods.
He hangs around near Niou, and sits on the edge of the tatami mat. Niou keeps turning to look at him. Sanada frowns. Niou snorts and waggles his eyebrows. "Gotcha!" Marui shouts. He stands up and starts to wiggle in a victory dance, but he trips over the cables. He lands on Jackal with a loud "Oomph!"
Niou pokes Sanada in the arm. "Not gonna take a bath?" he asks.
Sanada blinks. "I will later-"
"Not gonna take a bath?" Niou says again. He looks up at the ceiling, but Sanada can't hear the sounds of Yukimura bathing. There's no water splashing, no loud thumps, nothing but Jackal telling Marui off for ripping the cable out of his gameboy.
Sanada's eyes go wide. "Oh," he says.
Yukimura is still in the bath tub. His back stiffens when Sanada slides the door closed and pads across the room. Sanada's entire body burns when he takes his clothes off, then folds them up. His body burns when he sits on the stool and showers the ick of train travel off his skin. His dick is hard, too. He tries to cover it with his modesty towel.
Yukimura takes the towel from his hands and sets it on top of Sanada's head instead.
"Hi," he says.
"Hello," Sanada mumbles.
Yukimura pokes Sanada's leg with his big toe. "Took you long enough, dummy."
"Sorry," Sanada says.
They don't say much. Yukimura flicks water at Sanada. He giggles, but when Sanada dunks his head under, he stops and gasps like a fish from underneath a mop of wet hair. It streams over his face like seaweed. Sanada tells him this and Yukimura gets his revenge by dunking Sanada under too.
They don't need to kiss. In the dark, when Jackal and Yagyuu whisper and Niou snores louder than Marui and Renji has stopped reading under his futon with a flashlight, Yukimura pushes his futon right up against Sanada's. He places a finger over his lips and lifts up the edge of Sanada's cover.
Sanada doesn't hesitate when he nods. Having Yukimura's warm, slightly sticky body pressed against him is better than anything.
It makes the morning calisthenics entirely worth it, too, when Sanada wakes up with an impression of Yukimura's pajama shirt button pressed into his cheek.
7.
Tennis practice starts on Thursday, but Sanada rallies with Yukimura on Monday afternoon. Renji watches and takes mental notes. The sun is bright, the camellia blossoms are big and red. The sakura trees on the school campus dust the tennis courts with petals that flutter up when Yukimura smashes a ball down.
Sanada clicks his tongue. He returns the favour with a rising shot. Yukimura laughs at him. "I knew you'd do that!" He scores a point with a second smash.
Sanada wipes the sweat from his forehead. Yukimura walks up to the net and cocks his head to the side. He's not sweating, but his hair is windswept and tangled. His mouth is flush. Tingles creep down Sanada's belly and settle in his dick. Yukimura smiles.
"Ne, Sanada?"
Sanada looks at him. Yukimura looks away and bites his lip. Lately, they've held hands walking home from the streetcourts, or school. Yukimura doesn't talk as much now that his voice cracks. Sanada has never talked much either. They can walk through a park of momiji trees and plums without a word. Yukimura's presence at Sanada's side is enough. Their hands are always sweaty and warm. Sometimes, Sanada thinks about kissing Yukimura.
They've only kissed twice. Or, tried to kiss twice.
The first time, Yukimura said Sanada looked like a tuna fish. It wasn't as hot or romantic as the movies made it seem.
The second time, Sanada leaned down and bumped Yukimura's nose. That hurt.
He thinks about it, on days like today. The new school year has fresh possibilities. The weather is warming, the air is sweet with the smell of flowers and life. The tennis courts crunch under Sanada's sneakers. Yukimura's cheeks are pink with the morning chill, and the workout from playing.
"HEY! You guys!"
Sanada blinks. Yukimura whips his head around. Renji blinks, too, and then he tucks his pen into his shirt pocket-he didn't change into his club uniform.
By the hydrangea bushes, a kid stands with a heavy bag strapped over his back. His hair is a mess. He's grinning with his teeth. Sanada scowls.
"Want a game?" the kid asks.
"No," Sanada says.
The kid sniffs. He clicks his tongue and walks up to them. Renji eyes him carefully. Yukimura raises his eyebrows, favouring the freshman (Sanada assumes) with a small smile. Sanada clenches his jaw. The moment dissolves into the atmosphere as the kid steps onto the court, invading their territory.
"Tryouts aren't until Thursday," Renji tells him.
"I know," the kid says. "But I'm gonna crush you three first."
Sanada lifts up his cap brim to get a better look. The kid stares at them. His eyes are wide. They reflect the morning light and glow, almost demon-bright. He has cuts on his arms and bruises on his face, but he doesn't have the gaunt look of an abused kid. Instead, his cheeks are full. His smile grows sharper the longer Sanada stares him down.
Then, Sanada starts to laugh. The kid's expression falls.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Sanada says. Renji makes a noise under his breath. Yukimura raises his other eyebrow.
The kid balls his fists. He smashes them to his sides and stomps his foot. "Yeah, I do!" he says. His voice rises. "I'm gonna fucking crush you three! Be here tomorrow after school or be SQUARE!" he shouts.
The kid runs off. A crow flies up from the hydrangeas.
Sanada and Yukimura and Renji look at each other. Sanada laughs again. "Idiot," he mutters.
"Interesting," Yukimura says.
"Odd," Renji says.
The kid is on the courts Tuesday afternoon. He's in the white PE uniform. Renji hasn't changed from his school uniform, but Sanada and Yukimura have. Sanada grabs his bag from the clubhouse.
"Go home," he says.
The kid slings his racket over his shoulder. He jumps onto his other foot. "No," he says. He grins. He's a cocky brat. Sanada wants to shove him out of the way. He's standing in the middle of Yukimura's favourite court. Sanada pulls a ball out from his pocket to serve. The kid doesn't move.
"Get out of the way!" Sanada snaps.
"Not until you play me."
Sanada rolls his eyes. The wind blows through the trees. It flutters the hem of Sanada's t-shirt. He glares down his nose at the kid.
"Just play him, Sanada!" Yukimura calls out. Sanada looks up. Yukimura smiles from the bench. Sanada's heart swells. He glances to Renji, who shrugs.
"Fine."
"If I win, I want your spot on the team!" the kid says. He cackles.
Sanada snorts. "Tarundoru," he whispers.
The kid plays a good game. He smashes and cackles his way through the volley Sanada sets up. He split-steps across the court. His eyes never leave the ball. But as soon as Sanada uses a ground smash, sealing the kid's poach, it's game over. The kid screams. Sanada serves, the kid returns, Sanada catches him off guard and smashes again into his blind spot.
"Fool," Sanada says. He slices his racket through the air. He breaks up another play from the kid, who grows more and more desperate. The kid runs across the court. He slides into the clay ground, cutting his legs up in attempts to dive.
It's an easy win. Sanada lifts his cap off his head. The brim is damp. He stiffens. The kid lays sprawled on the court, face-down. His back shakes.
Sanada walks off the court when the kid gets up. He lets out a low growl which grows into a high-pitched scream. He is a demon, with glowing bloodshot eyes and spit flying.
"You!" he shrieks. He points his racket to Yanagi. "You! I'm gonna crush you now! I'll take your spot instead!"
Renji sighs. Sanada stuffs his hat back down on his head. Yukimura nods to the kid. He's started to flail his arms in the air. His head shakes. He breathes hard enough that Sanada can hear him all the way over here.
Sanada sits down on the bench next to Yukimura. Renji stands up. He takes his racket from his bag and meets the kid at the net. Yukimura inches closer to Sanada until their knees brush. Sanada unfolds his arms off his chest to look at him.
"This freshman is interesting," Yukimura murmurs. He leans into Sanada's shoulder, but his eyes ping-pong across the court as he watches Renji's volley. Sanada sighs into Yukimura's breathing.
"He's a fool," Sanada mutters.
"No," Yukimura says. He pokes Sanada in the arm. "Look."
The kid takes a point off Renji. His split-step allows him to change direction on the court faster than Renji's Yamaitachi shot. Renji fumbles with his next serve-his face is calm, but his serve is slow. The kid takes a second point, then a third and then the game. Renji's brow furrows. Sanada narrows his eyes.
One game doesn't make a win. Renji trips the kid up with a quick, unexpected drop shot. It bounces in a staccato beat, like an insect, behind the kid.
When he loses a second time, the kid sinks to his knees. Renji sets his racket down beside the bench. He leans down to tie his sneaker. The back of his school shirt is soaked through and sticks to his skin.
On the court, the kid howls. "NO!" he screams. He forces a laugh. The sound grates Sanada's ears. He moves over into Yukimura to allow Renji to sit on the bench. For a moment, all three of them watch the kid claw at the ground. His eyes are bloodshot, but he's not crying.
Yukimura stands up. Sanada says, "Yukimura", but Yukimura walks up to the net first.
"Would you like to play me, too?" he asks. The jacket on his shoulders slips off to one side. Yukimura pulls it back up. He cradles his racket against his chest. Then, he tosses the kid a ball.
"You can serve."
It doesn't matter what the kid does. He loses 6-0 to Yukimura without a single point gained, like he did with Sanada, or a game, like he did with Renji. After, the kid writhes on the ground, screaming swears at the three of them. He spits blood. His eyes bleed. His racket has popped a string from trying to return a shot of Yukimura's with a failed hadoukyu-like move. His arms shake and he can't stand up. Renji offers a hand, which the kid refuses.
Sanada and Yukimura walk through the park. The sky is purple through the glassy maple leaves, so recently unfurled and green. There is pollen in the air that makes Yukimura sniffle and wipe his nose with his jacket sleeve. Sanada holds his free hand. Their shoes crunch on the old, wet leaves from last autumn that litter the ground and collect in muddy depressions.
"His name is Kirihara Akaya," Yukimura says. "I told Nishiki to save a spot for him on the regulars."
"He's not good enough," Sanada says.
Yukimura stops. He tugs on Sanada's hand and pulls him backward. Yukimura's arm slides up to Sanada's elbow. He hugs Sanada's arm tight and his eyes flick up. His lashes are long, his eyes dark as they reflect the last of the afternoon's light. "Sanada," he whispers.
"Mn?"
"We'll train him."
8.
A repeat of the Nationals win is fools' thinking. They did it once last year, but Sanada doesn't feel so certain about a second trophy.
If they win, Sanada will kiss Yukimura.
9.
They win the Nationals.
It's too good to be true. He should have known better. As soon as Yukimura stepped onto the court to play Makinofuji in singles two, he owned the court. He didn't take his jacket off. He didn't break a sweat. He played a fast, fierce game. There was no mercy shown for his opponent. Yukimura smashed. Makinofuji gasped. Yukimura lobbed. The sun was harsh. It was blinding.
At the announcement of the game set and match, Sanada exhaled. Yukimura stood at the net. There was a halo of bright sun around his face.
The team stormed the court. Sanada was caught up in the rush of people and cheering and laughter and crying. He bumped into senpais, and Yukimura. Yukimura beamed at him. His eyes glowed. They were wet in the corners. Sanada hugged him tight.
Reality only sets in at the sushi bar. Niou sidles into a seat between Sanada and Yukimura. Sanada glares at him. Niou throws his head back and smirks. He offers Sanada an octopus sushi.
"Pucker up!" he says. He wiggles the sushi in Sanada's face. Sanada shoves him away. The recoil of Niou's arm smacks Yukimura in the face.
Sanada's eyes go wide. "Yukimura, I-"
Yukimura takes the octopus from Niou. "I like octopus," he says. He pops it into his mouth and chews. Then, he adds, "Thanks, Niou."
Niou smirks. "No probs."
Sanada sits and stews. Yukimura talks to Niou and Renji, but not him. Sanada stops eating the sushi. The tamago roll churns in his stomach. Sanada sighs. His throat feels thick when he looks up to see Yukimura making a puckered face. He won’t ever have the chance to kiss Yukimura now.
Sanada's thought of nothing but kissing Yukimura for three weeks straight, since they won the regionals. Now, it hurts to sit here with his team. Sanada checks his watch. He could go home and be alone. He stands up. No one notices. He walks to the door.
"Oi, Sanada!" Nishiki calls out.
Sanada mutters an excuse. The lie makes his chest tighten. As soon as he walks out of the sushi bar, he exhales. His breathing is shuddered. No one will miss him tonight. The flush of today's win has settled into a dread over Yukimura. He kicks himself and wishes he'd taken Niou's damn octopus sushi.
Tokyo is alive at night. Thousands of people stream by Sanada. Thousands of lights flash a kaleidoscope of colour on huge screens at pedestrian crossings. There is music and food everywhere. His stomach growls. Sanada stops at a light and clutches his stomach. He looks around: girls hang off their boyfriends' arms, middle-aged women walk with their husbands at a respectable distance. Everyone is a couple except him. He sniffles again. Under his cap brim, no one can see his eyes prick with tears.
He catches a train home. He changes at Yokohama station for the local line. On the platform, he imagines Yukimura calling his name. He imagines his cellphone buzzing in his pocket. The only real sound is the rushing train pulling up to the platform. The air pushes back on Sanada's face. He joins the crowds hobbling into the carriages. It's a limited express-he missed the express train by ten minutes.
Sanada stares out the window. He stands and sways with the movement of the train. It passes through the city, then the suburbs. The scenery is awash with blue and yellow and white and red lights. It melds into the forests of bamboo and cryptomeria, maples and wild sakura trees. His stop is the second last on the line.
He is the only one in the station. Sanada touches the corners of his eyes. He wipes away the wetness and starts to walk home. The night is quiet and warm. His footsteps echo on the empty streets.
"Sanada!"
Sanada stops walking. He stops breathing, too.
Yukimura runs up to him. His eyes are wide and black under the dim light from the street lamps. His lips are parted. He swallows and shakes his head. He grabs at Sanada's arm so fast that Sanada's tennisbag slides down his other arm. It falls to the pavement in a dull heap.
"Why did you leave?" Yukimura asks.
Sanada is silent for a moment. Yukimura digs his nails into Sanada's hand. Sanada winces at the pain. "I'm sorry," he says.
Yukimura clicks his tongue. He blows a raspberry. Sanada leans down to pick his bag up. It's a half-hour walk home, and up a mountain. There are no cars in the area. There is no one else except the chirping crickets. Sanada walks ahead of Yukimura. He closes his eyes, but he doesn't look back.
Yukimura follows. He jogs up beside Sanada. "I was only joking around with Niou."
Sanada says nothing. He sucks his stomach in. His insides melt into his cock the longer Yukimura walks with him. Yukimura stretches his arms above his head. He smells sweaty. Sanada doesn't mind. His throat closes up again when they cut into the patches of forest scattered along the road.
It is too quiet and too dark here. The air is damp and thick. Sanada's blood rushes when Yukimura lifts his eyes. Somehow, they have stopped walking. Somehow, his tennisbag has slipped again. Yukimura licks his lips. His eyes hold Sanada to the spot.
His hand shakes on the back of Yukimura's neck. He can feel the sweat and the tickle of Yukimura's hair. Yukimura tilts his head up higher. Sanada leans closer until he can taste Yukimura's breathing. It is fishy and there is the sharpness of wasabi, too.
This will never be perfect. Yukimura's nose bumps his. Sanada's legs wobble. The insects are too loud and the night too warm. Sanada's back is sweaty. Yukimura's hair is stringy. But Sanada closes the gap between them. His lips touch the side of Yukimura's mouth first. He starts to cringe, but the sensation of Yukimura's lips parting is good. Sanada tries kissing him again, harder and deeper as their mouths finally meet.
It doesn't have to be perfect, but it already kinda is.
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 18 965
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all, except the references to Tian and Flying High.
Summary: First love, Sanada and Yukimura-style.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to koneko_meow for the betaing. Written for Sanada's birthday, 2008. Happy Birthday Sanada Genichirou! &hearts
This fic has been truncated into two parts due to length:
[Part 1] [Part 2]
1.
It's the start of the new year.
It's the start of a new school.
His mom hemmed his pants yesterday, but they still drag in the mud. The sweater is itchy and pills under his armpits where his sleeves rub. His backpack is brand new, a bright shade of blue. Sanada doesn't like it. It cuts into his sides with the weight of his junior high school books.
His stomach flutters like the cherry blossoms on the spring wind. His palms are sweaty. He's nervous. Sanada frowns and scuffs the toe of his sneaker. The weather has a morning chill even now, but he doesn't need a jacket.
The bus comes and he gets on. He's one of the first stops on the route, way up towards Yamanashi, almost. Not quite. Sanada takes a seat near the front of the bus. He's not small, but there are other, taller, scary looking students with dyed hair and piercings. They wear chains on their belts and have cigarette packages sticking out from their pockets. Sanada hugs his backpack to his chest. "Tarundoru," he mutters. Nobody hears him.
He doesn't know a single person at Rikkai Dai Junior High School. His brother graduated last month. All Sanada knows is that he will be in class 1A-he aced the entrance exam. He thinks about the tennis club and the kendo club. The tennis club has a good rep. The kendo club, he doesn't know.
Sanada rubs his palms on his backpack. Sweat seeps into the nylon, staining it dark. He stares out the window. A train rushes past. Maybe there are classmates on it. There are white plum blossoms bursting into flower everywhere. Last night, his family went to the yozakura in the park not too far from home. Paper lanterns hung from the cherry trees. Everything smelled sweet. Sanada runs his tongue over his back teeth. If he thinks hard enough, he can almost taste the sugary sweets he had too: sticky cherries on crackers from a stand, sakura ice cream and the sour umeboshi, fresh from his mom's pickle pot.
His bento is packed for two.
"Try to make some new friends," his mom told him this morning. Sanada feels ill thinking about it. He can't throw out the food-it would be wasteful-but he doesn't want to ask strangers to eat with him either. He swallows hard. He squeezes his eyes closed. Nobody notices.
The bus pulls up to another stop. The only seat left is the empty one next to Sanada. No one sits down. Students pass him by. He stares at his hands. Shame flushes his face. He scowls deeper. His insides are hot and they hurt.
"I know you."
Sanada looks up.
He's standing there. He's touching the metal rail, then he slides into the seat beside Sanada without even asking. Yukimura smiles at him. "We played tennis last year, remember? I beat you 6-4."
Sanada says nothing. He clenches his jaw. Yukimura's knee touches his. Sanada stiffens. He hugs his backpack tighter.
"Are you trying out for the tennis team?" Yukimura asks. There is a racket handle sticking out from his the top of his backpack. It's new and the vinyl is shiny, just like Sanada's, but Yukimura's is pale blue, with white stripes.
Sanada looks at his hands. His palms are red and sweaty still. The bento in his bag pokes a square side. His stomach churns. Try to make some new friends… He sighs. It sounds like a huff. Yukimura keeps looking at him. Sanada's mouth feels dry and his sneakers feel soggy from the puddle he stepped in on the way to the bus stop.
"I don't know," he grumbles.
"Well you have to," Yukimura tells him.
"No I don't!" Sanada says.
"Yes you do!" Yukimura says, right back at him. His breath smells like fried fish. Sanada had an omelet for breakfast. There are crab rolls and onegiri with bean paste in his bento.
"Leave me alone," Sanada mumbles. He rests his chin on the top of his bag. Yukimura keeps looking at him with big eyes. His staring is distracting. Sanada stops trying to look out the window at the rushing suburbs. He sighs. "What do you want?"
Yukimura's smile wavers. He holds out his hand and he ducks his head a bit. "Sorry," he says. "You're the only person I know going to Rikkai." He opens his mouth, but he doesn't say anything more. He keeps his hand out. Sanada considers it. He hesitates. Yukimura's smile starts to thin when Sanada pushes down the squeeze in his chest. He takes Yukimura's hand.
It's sweaty too.
"It would suck to eat lunch alone on the first day," Yukimura says, after. Sanada nods. Relief relaxes his shoulders. Sanada wipes his hands on his pants. Yukimura keeps smiling. Sanada's heart does funny things. It starts to throb, like he's watching a samurai drama and the main character is about to die and his throat is all thick and closed off. The sky reflects in Yukimura's eyes; the scenery changes in his pupils.
"I…I have extra in my lunch," Sanada says. "If you want to share…" His head is all floaty. A crow sits on top of a traffic light post that the bus pauses at. Students talk on the bus, one loud droning noise, but Yukimura's silence is distinct. Sanada starts to kick himself inside.
"Okay," Yukimura says. "But only if you join the tennis team."
They shake on it.
At the school gate, they walk together. It's not as scary with someone at his side. Sanada lifts his head higher. He's as tall as some of the juniors, but everyone seems to know he's new. His backpack, his crisp pants, and the sharp colour of his sweater all give it away. Yukimura pokes him in the side.
"Hey," he says. He reaches out. In the blink of an eye, he has Sanada's cap on his index finger. Sanada lunges for it.
"This would look cooler the other way," Yukimura says. Sanada says nothing. Yukimura puts his cap back on. He pulls it down over Sanada's eyes by the brim. Yukimura laughs and the sound makes Sanada feel fluttering inside all over again.
At lunch, Yukimura eats all of the crab rolls.
He gives Sanada one of his mushroom shumai. It tastes better than anything Sanada has ever had before. The salty taste of Yukimura's sweaty fingers, rubbed onto the dumpling, lingers in Sanada's mouth all night.
On the morning of the second day of school, Sanada wakes up from his first wet dream.
It's the start of something completely new.
2.
With the wet dreams come erections. Sometimes Sanada will be in the middle of a game against Nishiki-senpai, or Renji or the coach and he'll hear Yukimura's voice. He remembers the dreams with Yukimura licking his lips. His remembers the dreams with Yukimura laughing. He remembers the dreams with Yukimura poking him in the side with a racket frame. His dick twitches. It swells up and Sanada flushes with a fever.
"All right, kid?" Nishiki asks.
Sanada glares at the ground. This isn't all right.
It isn't all right to feel his insides melt when he sees Yukimura. It isn't all right to shiver when Yukimura steals pickles from Sanada's cafeteria lunch special and their fingers brush. It isn't all right to stutter when Yukimura says good morning.
Sanada lies on the cot. The nurse sticks a thermometer under his tongue. The glass is cold. A hand touches his forehead. "You don't have a fever," he says.
"I'm sick!" Sanada says.
But he stops when the nurse asks why-Sanada can't say why. Thinking about Yukimura like that is wrong. He breathes through his nose; his nostrils flare. Sanada leans on the edge of the cot. His stomach is queasy.
"If you develop a rash come back," the nurse tells him. He winks at Sanada. "It could be just love sickness at your age, ne?"
A cold sweat drips down Sanada's neck. He leans on the wall in the corridor. He breathes. He thinks about his meditation poses. For a moment he can hear the sound of a shamisen being plucked. Then, a string breaks in his mind. He cringes at the grating screech.
In class, Renji leans over. He sets a folded note on Sanada's desk. It is in the shape of a crane. Are you OK?
Sanada looks at him. Renji raises his eyebrows under his fringe. Sanada looks at the note in his hands. They shake.
Do you want to play in practice? Sanada writes back. His kanji are scribbly. His pen rolls onto the floor as the teacher lectures. The entire class turns to stare at him. Sanada cannot hide under his cap during lessons-it's put away on the top shelf of his locker.
He can avoid Yukimura when he plays tennis with Renji. Renji's good at volleying. Sanada is better at offense. Yukimura is good at everything-he beat the captain first practice. They are the only freshmen who are regulars. The yellow jersey is too big on Sanada, but it hangs off Renji more.
"Did Seiichi tell you his idea?"
Sanada grunts. "No," he says. His hold slips on his racket. The ball lobs up. Renji runs for it, but he pauses mid-step and looks up. The ball arcs into the sun. For an instant, it's lost. Then it hits the roof with a hollow smuck.
Sanada narrows his eyes. His chest feels tight. His sneakers pinch his toes. His knees hurt, and his stomach does too. He can hear Yukimura laughing with Marui. He wants to cry. Or maybe barf.
If Yukimura knew the truth, he wouldn’t like Sanada anymore.
Sanada's eyes sting. Yukimura runs over to their court. "Did Yanagi tell you my-"
Sanada runs into the gym. He picks up balls with Niou the rest of practice. His knees are pink and splotchy from the grit of the gymnasium floor. They creak when he walks home. It's almost dark out. He calls his mom to tell her he's on his way.
Flies hum in the dusky purple light. Sanada's breathing dissolves into the rattling trains across the road. Late evening birds chirp in the trees before they go to sleep. It's Sanada's birthday this week. Only Renji, with all his data, knows.
His phone buzzes. Sanada flips it open. There's a message from Yukimura and Sanada's pants are too tight all over again. Sanada deletes the message, but his erection doesn't go away.
His brother teases him. "Mom washed your sheets again, Gen-chan," he says. He takes Sanada's cap and tosses it into the air. Sanada tells him to give it back. His brother ruffles his hair. Sanada tries to punch his brother in the stomach.
He gets sent to bed early.
In the dark, he lays there with his hand around his dick. Sanada thinks about Yukimura's hair fluttering when he serves. He thinks about seeing Yukimura's bum in the clubhouse showers. He thinks about smelling Yukimura's sweat and shampoo and the powdery smell of laundry detergent on his uniform. Sanada sniffles. His face is wet when he comes.
In the morning, he catches the early bus. Yukimura always rides the 6:45am-he's not there. Sanada is the first in the clubhouse. He unlocks it. It feels good to have a key. Only the regulars have them. It feels good to feel the cool morning air on his bare arms. It feels good to walk on the courts, still damp with dew. The ball has a different bounce at this hour.
Sanada hits a tennis ball against the brick wall. The thwock is soothing. He hits it harder, then he switches to a backhand. There are footsteps behind him. Sanada catches the ball on the gut of his racket. It bounces four times before he pockets it.
"Good morning," Renji says.
Sanada nods. "Morning."
Yukimura steps out from the corner. A crow flies out of a hydrangea bush, ruffling its feathers and cawing as it flaps above Sanada's head. His stomach sinks. His intestines are twisty. His throat is closed up. He looks at the wall and feels like a fool. He can't even look at Yukimura anymore without his palms getting sweaty and his dick getting hard.
Yukimura will hate him.
"Why are you avoiding me?" he asks.
Sanada sniffs. He doesn't answer. Renji touches his shoulder. There is an unsettling little smile on his lips.
"Seiichi has the best idea," he says.
Sanada still says nothing.
Yukimura touches Sanada's other arm. He bites his lip. His forearm burns. He winces. Yukimura's eyebrows knit together, then he says, "We're going to win the Nationals three years in a row. You're gonna help, Sanada."
Sanada blinks. "What?" he mumbles.
Yukimura nods. A grin breaks out on his face. Renji's eyes dance. The sun streams down through the zelkova trees in steamy rays filled with dust motes and pollen. "We're gonna do it," he says. Yukimura holds out his little finger. "And we gotta shake on it. Yanagi and I need you, Sanada. We gotta do it, all three of us."
Renji holds out his pinky too.
Only Sanada is left. His hand is pressed to his shorts. His palm is sweaty and hot. He can't shake on anything. They'll both know. Yukimura will be grossed out.
Yukimura takes his hand and pries his fingers apart. Sanada's mouth hangs open as their pinkies hook, all three, and they shake on the promise.
Renji walks away first. He swings his racket around in a circle. Sanada hasn't moved. His feet are glued to the spot. Yukimura hasn't unhooked their fingers. Sanada can't stop shaking.
"Hey," Yukimura says. His voice is a whisper. Other voices shout and tennis balls bounce on the courts behind them. Here, it's shady and quiet. Sanada's heart pounds. "Hey, it's your birthday this week, isn't it?"
Sanada can't breathe, either.
Yukimura slides his pinky down Sanada's. The touch is feather light. A shudder passes through Sanada's thighs. His knees wobble, all jelly-like.
"You wanna go to a café?" Yukimura asks. "Just me and you?"
Before Sanada can answer, Yukimura runs off at the sound of the captain calling his name. He pivots on his heel to wave at Sanada, and then he runs faster. Sanada stands in the same spot until the bell for classes ring. He wipes his eyes with the hem of his t-shirt. The memory of the smell of powder and sweat remains fresh in Sanada's mind all through morning classes.
3.
Sanada doesn't know how his brother finds out. His hair is wet from the shower and combed to the sides. He's wearing the t-shirt from the Gap that his mom bought him and a pair of jeans. Sanada packs his tennisbag and stuffs his cap and a spare can of balls inside. His hands shake on the zipper.
"Got a date, Gen-chan?" his brother asks.
Sanada's eyes widen. He can feel his face burning. His brother grabs him in a headlock and messes his hair. "Stop!" Sanada shouts. "Don't! Tarun-"
His brother chuckles when he walks off. Sanada looks in the mirror. He scowls at his reflection. He licks his fingers and smoothes his hair down, but the cowlick springs back up. "Stupid brother," he mutters.
It's not a date. Yukimura isn't like that. It's just…going somewhere together. They can talk about tennis. Maybe they can play on a streetcourt after.
Sanada looks out the bathroom window, underneath the open pane of frosted glass. Rain drips off the edge. The sky is a slate colour. It rumbles. He frowns.
So maybe they won't play tennis afterwards.
He meets Yukimura at the Mr Donuts outside of Bashamichi station. Yukimura waves from underneath a clear umbrella. The sky drizzles, but Yukimura has his tennisbag with him too. Sanada tries to smile. His mouth doesn't work. He scuffs his new sneakers and feels weird dressed up like this.
"There's a café this way," Yukimura says. "My mom said it was good."
They walk through a park, going nowhere. The Yokohama skyscrapers fill the air. Puddles soak through Sanada's sneakers and make his socks soggy. The hems of his jeans are wet, too, from dragging along the pavement. Yukimura's umbrella bobs. It bounces as he walks. He skips. He turns around and smiles at Sanada. Sanada's insides slither into his underpants. He's hard again. He can't look Yukimura in the eye.
"It's too bad we had practice on your birthday," Yukimura says. "But this is okay, right? Even if it's a bit late?"
Sanada nods. He looks out at the bay. A cargo ship chugs across the water. It's the same colour as the sky: ugly and grey. Choppy waves brush up against the cement embankment. The flower beds in the park have curled up, their blossoms retreating. Sanada crawls into his t-shirt as far as he can. Without his cap on, he's naked.
They walk for a while, then Yukimura turns down a busy street. Sanada trudges behind him. Yukimura flips his cellphone out. Sanada swallows. It could be a message from someone else. Maybe Yukimura has somewhere better to be. Thinking about that makes Sanada stop walking all together. He stands outside a Claire's store. Streams of girl push him this way or that. They swarm around him. They flash dirty looks and frowns. "Excuse me," one girl hisses.
Sanada's throat is tight. A sob makes his chest shudder. He could just go home. When he looks up down the street, he doesn't even see Yukimura anymore.
"Sanada!"
Someone reaches out and suddenly grabs Sanada's hand. He pulls back. He looks up. Yukimura is there. Yukimura's warm hand clasps his. Fingers thread between his and tug gently. Yukimura's forehead is scrunched up. He's frowning and saying something about losing Sanada. Sanada can't hear, for all the traffic rushing by. He lets his body go and be pulled by Yukimura down a side street.
"Sorry," he mutters.
Yukimura doesn't listen.
The café has a terrace outside, but the umbrellas are tucked away. Rain pools on the tops of the tables. Yukimura sets his umbrella in the stand inside the doorway. Sanada taps his sneakers on the doorframe. Water drips off his tennisbag.
It's a nice café, filled with the smell of roasted coffee and couples dotted around the tiny tables. Sanada feels grown up, sitting across from Yukimura. They order parfaits. All Sanada can think about is Yukimura's knee brushing his underneath the table. His heart beats doki doki in his chest. Strains of European music float through the background. Yukimura's hair falls over his eyes. His eyelashes drip with rain too. Under the light here, the water droplets look like glass.
Sanada sighs.
Yukimura stops whipping his parfait up. He looks over the rim of the parfait cup. Sanada swallows a lump in his throat, then he looks away. Guilt stabs his belly. Last night, he imagined that he and Yukimura were in a café, alone, where he confessed. He told Yukimura things too embarrassing to remember now, but they were heartfelt and true. He imagined that he kissed Yukimura and that Yukimura kissed him back.
Now, there is acrid bile at the back of his mouth.
"You haven't touched your parfait," Yukimura says. "Don't you like chocolate?"
It hurts to breathe when Yukimura leans closer. His shoe taps Sanada in the shin.
"I picked a shitty day to come here, didn't I?" Yukimura asks. His shoulders sink. He sniffles too. "That's why you're so down."
A second stab of guilt cuts through Sanada's ribs. He shakes his head frantically. "N-no!" His voice breaks. Sanada feels the fool a hundred times over again. "No," he whispers. "I'm sorry."
Awkward silence hangs over them. Sanada hangs his head. Yukimura sighs again. He looks sad sitting there. His back is to the window, where rain sluices down and makes the day even more miserable. Sanada doesn't know what to say to fix things. Yukimura's face flickers with emotion: sadness, a grimace of pain, then a crestfallen frown. It's all Sanada's fault.
He stares at the table top. His parfait cup drips condensation onto the surface, like it's crying.
"Sanada, you can go home if you don't want to be here," Yukimura mumbles finally.
Sanada sucks in a breath. Yukimura's lips are pursed. Then they start to quiver. His chin wibbles. Sanada's heart stops with the fear he's done something irreversible, like making Yukimura cry.
But Yukimura just bursts out laughing instead. He kicks Sanada in the shin under the table. Sanada stares at him. The laughter dies down when a barista looks up at them. Sanada tries to hide from the stares by scowling. Yukimura smiles at him.
"I was joking," he says.
Sanada frowns.
"You looked sad," Yukimura says. "I…I don't know what to do when you look like that, Sanada. You should smile more. You look nice when you smile. The girls say…"
Yukimura looks at his parfait. He stirs his spoon around. The cream and cake and fruit mixes into a frothy soup. Yukimura looks at his hand after, but not Sanada. His cheeks look flushed.
Sanada is so hot inside that he excuses himself before they leave. He rushes into the bathroom and splashes water on his face. His reflection in the mirror has red cheeks and a puffy bottom lip from biting it all afternoon. But his eyes are bright.
He almost wishes Yukimura would have finished what he said about what the girls. But he can't ask. He can't hope.
He can only imagine.
4.
The Nationals are such a dream. Too far, too high, too out of reach.
If they win, Sanada will confess.
5.
They win the Nationals.
In the photograph, Yukimura holds the certificate. He's flushed and beaming. Renji holds the team flag with his one hand and Yukimura's shoulder with his other. He and Yukimura played doubles two together.
Sanada played singles three. He won his game, but in the photograph, he turns away and scowls. His hair is a mess from being rubbed by senpais. The trophy in his hands sparkles under the August sunlight.
Weeks later, the senpais tease him when they pass around the developed photographs. The summer haze has lessened. The insects aren't as loud, the mornings aren't as sweaty. The OBs have been retiring one by one.
No one asks what Sanada was thinking that day. They whack him on the ear. He cringes. They laugh and say, "He's always pissed off looking! Check out this pic, too."
Sanada's thought of nothing but confessing for three weeks. He doesn't remember when he last slept. There are purple bags under his eyes. He falls asleep in home economics class-Renji wakes him up before their cake burns. He practices in the dojo in the middle of the night until his grandfather stomps into the room and tells Sanada to get to bed.
He walks around like a ghost, half present, half gone.
He doesn't have to do this, he needs to. He made a promise to himself to be true to his emotions. Fear of rejection chokes his breathing when Yukimura waves good bye after they walk home every evening.
"Are you all right?" Renji asks.
Sanada doesn't nod. He stares at his bento. The rice sticks to the roof of his mouth. Today is his deadline. It's a self-imposed burden he bears. His shoulders ache all the time. Sanada glances out the window of the stairwell across the school grounds. The willow tree rustles in the wind. Its long branches sway softly. There is a boy and a girl standing by the thick trunk. A confession is taking place.
Sanada's face burns as he turns away.
He roofs three balls in a row during practice.
"Nice play," Marui says. He snickers. Then he goes back to picking up balls for Nishiki and another senpai.
Sanada runs behind the tool shed. He sniffles. He wipes at his eyes and sniffles again. He presses his hands to the wall of the shed and exhales. His chest shudders again.
Niou walks out from the corner. "Yo," he says. Sanada freezes. Niou slinks off before Sanada can stop him. His heart sinks lower into his intestines. He's doomed.
The sky rumbles. Dark clouds spill over the courts and cover everything in a dim gloom. Sanada leans on the tool shed. He plays with the brim of his cap, flipping it in and out. It snaps back against his hands. "Ow," he mumbles.
"Sanada?"
Yukimura walks up to him. He bites his lip. His headband falls over his eyes until Yukimura pushes it back up with his knuckles. He's sweaty from practice. The wind whips up the hem of his t-shirt. Sanada tries not to look at Yukimura's pale tummy. It makes his mouth dry up seeing the smooth skin around Yukimura's bellybutton.
"Are you okay?" Yukimura asks. He peers up at Sanada-Sanada's grown another six centimeters since July. Sometimes his voice cracks. Sanada keeps his mouth closed, but his throat bobs anyway.
Practice has ended. The players scatter. Most of them walk toward the clubhouse. The safety of the tool shed, wedged between the manicured hydrangea shrubs and the clubhouse wall, also dissolves. Sanada starts to walk away. His mind swims. The air is thick and damp. He can taste the nitrous atmosphere that heralds a coming storm tonight.
Yukimura's keys jingle in his pocket as he runs after Sanada. Sanada rushes. Yukimura jogs to catch up. Sanada turns left and stops under a tree. The wind haunts the branches. Yukimura haunts him.
"Sanada," Yukimura says.
No one else is around. Leaves litter the ground under the tree's canopy. Sanada's legs shake, but he keeps standing. Yukimura ducks his head down. Sanada bites his lip to stop himself from gasping. His dick is hard. Yukimura probably sees it, that's why he's backing up and walking away. That's why his lip trembles and he grimaces.
The wind gathers. It's strong enough to blow Sanada's cap off his head. His body moves to run after it, but his mouth works first. Sanada says words he only understands when they hang in the air between the two of them.
"I like you."
Yukimura's hair blows all around his face and Sanada can't see his expression. Someone moans-or maybe it's the wind. The tree shudders and sighs. Sanada's knees wobble like jelly. He starts to sink to the ground when Yukimura takes his hand.
It's a sweaty, clammy hold. Yukimura's grasp is tight. He pulls Sanada up and starts to run. Sanada stumbles over a tree root. Yukimura keeps running. He shrieks something. The canopy of willow leaves breaks, like a curtain, and they run across the school campus as the rain droplets start to fall.
Yukimura runs after the cap, which blows across the grass. Two of their teammates-maybe Marui and his brown friend-walk by and turn to see Sanada being pulled along. Yukimura yanks his arm. Their hair whips up. Leaves swirl around them. The sky cracks with a bolt of lightning. Rain starts to pour down onto the backs. Yukimura yells, but Sanada can't hear the words.
Yukimura grabs the hat from underneath a bristling bush. He sets it on Sanada's head, pulling the brim down over his eyes. His hand is warm and damp in Sanada's still. "I like you too!" Yukimura shouts over the rain. He grins. Water runs down his face.
He doesn’t get it. His smile laughs at Sanada just as much as the senpais have all week. Sanada shakes his head. Yukimura laughs. Anger bubbles up out of Sanada and down into his fist. He slaps Yukimura on the cheek.
Yukimura's face is transfixed for a moment. Water runs down the frozen lines of his smile. Rain pools in his dimples. Sanada sucks in a breath through his teeth. He swallows hard. Yukimura is a statue as his eyes darken and sink inside themselves.
Sanada's blood runs cold. What have I done…?
"I like you," Yukimura whispers. "I wasn't joking about that."
"As- as a friend," Sanada says. His chest collapses. His ribs crack. His heart breaks inside, spilling frigid blood through his belly. He can taste blood in his mouth. Sanada closes his eyes. Everything is ruined and it's all his fault.
But Yukimura squeezes his hand. He pushes his fingers through Sanada's, wedging them apart and forcing himself into Sanada's space when he steps closer. He looks up. He pushes Sanada's cap enough to see his eyes. Yukimura's gaze doesn't waver.
"I like like you," he says. "Like…first love."
Sanada doesn't know if the rain is making his face hot and wet, or if it's something else.
6.
When no one is looking, Yukimura sometimes reaches for Sanada's hand. They stand at the bus stop. It's winter and the trees are bare. The sky is clear and the sun is dim. Frost creeps up on the edges of puddles on the road. Sanada wears his black mittens.
His toes are cold in his sneakers, but his hand is warm in Yukimura's. Yukimura says, "It's almost winter break" and his breath makes a cloud puff in the air.
"Yes," Sanada says. He breathes, too, and squeezes Yukimura's hand tighter, just in case their grip slips. His face feels hot, so he buries it into his scarf to hide the blush. Yukimura notices-he always does-and he laughs.
So does Niou.
"Oi, lovebirds," he says. Sanada's face burns. Yukimura snatches his hand away, leaving a cold memory in Sanada's palm. Sanada scowls as Niou wedges himself between the two of them and wraps his arm around Sanada's shoulder. "Don't be gay," Niou says.
"Go away," Sanada mutters.
Niou squeezes his arm tighter around Sanada's neck. Sanada cringes. Niou still doesn't leave when Yukimura elbows him and says, "Ne, didn't you say you were going to play darts at the arcade today?"
"Puri," Niou says.
Sanada huffs. He hands Niou a 500 yen coin. "Go away," he says.
"Cool, thanks," Niou says. He pockets the coins and goes away. At the end of the street, right before he turns the corner, he turns to wave to them. Only Yukimura waves back. Sanada represses the urge to hit something.
Renji's uncle has a pension in Fukushima. It takes all morning and half the afternoon to get there: local trains from home to Koriyama, then slow, chugging lines to the coast. It's just after Christmas and the frost has spread south, spread out enough to cover window panes of the van that Renji's uncle picks them up in. There are seven freshmen: Sanada, Renji and Yukimura, Niou and Marui, Marui's brown friend named Jackal and a boy named Yagyuu, who's in Sanada and Renji's class. Sanada has never spoken to Jackal or Yagyuu before today.
"So you all play tennis?" Renji's uncle asks. He's short and fat and has wide, round eyes. He looks nothing like Renji.
"Yes sir," Yagyuu says. He has the personality of Sanada's family stone. Sanada doesn't understand why Renji invited him along.
The mountains nearby are covered with snow, but this close to the ocean leaves nothing but a barren cold over the landscape. Sanada shivers in his coat and wishes he'd worn more than his sneakers. Yukimura doesn't hold his hand when they unload their bags at the pension.
Then pension is drafty and a few blocks from the sea. The walls groan and shake, the floors creak as Sanada shuffles across in the slippers he brought. Marui is complaining already: he's hungry, he doesn't want to do 'training', is it time for hot pot yet?
"Stuff it, fatty," Niou mutters.
"Shove it, bleach brains!" Marui snaps right back at Niou. They fought the entire way up here. Sanada has a headache. He wants to crawl under a futon and close his eyes, maybe rest his head on Yukimura's shoulder and breathe in his smell. This is the first time he's been away from his parents.
Niou, as annoying as he is, put awful thoughts in Sanada's head a few weeks back. He texted Sanada a message, u know that thers no parents to catch u doin shit
Sanada bites his lip. He straightens his back and tries not to think about there being no parents here, just Renji's uncle and his equally dumpy aunt who has all the futons folded up in a corner of their room. Guilt stabs Sanada's stomach when he looks at Yukimura and wonders what Yukimura looks like when he sleeps. Over the past few months, Yukimura's grown taller too, and his face has a leaner, older look to it. Sometimes his voice cracks.
Sanada wonders if Yukimura ever masturbates. Sanada does it so much that there are mornings his dick hurts when he touches himself. They've never touched each other that way. They've never even kissed.
There's hot pot for supper. Marui gushes. Renji's aunt feeds him more. Sanada stirs his around in the bowl. He's hungry, but his insides are so knotted and his skull so sore that he can hardly swallow. He needs the energy for tomorrow. According to Renji's schedule, training starts at 6am with calisthenics by the creek.
As in, stand in the freezing creek and do calisthenics.
Sanada frowns. He doesn't look forward to that. But he's not going to tell Renji or anyone else. He bites back a yawn and tries another bite. The konyaku makes him gag.
After supper, when the moon shines pearly and bright through the windows and the night is still, Jackal and Marui and Niou play with their gameboys, hooking up a three-way system of cables that crisscross in a big mess. Yagyuu and Renji talk about homework and books. Yukimura yawns.
"I'm going for a bath," he says. He looks at Sanada. "Yanagi-san said it was a cedar bath."
Sanada nods.
Yukimura shifts his weight onto his other foot. Sanada scuffs his slipper. "Well…" Yukimura says. "I'll go then."
Sanada nods.
He hangs around near Niou, and sits on the edge of the tatami mat. Niou keeps turning to look at him. Sanada frowns. Niou snorts and waggles his eyebrows. "Gotcha!" Marui shouts. He stands up and starts to wiggle in a victory dance, but he trips over the cables. He lands on Jackal with a loud "Oomph!"
Niou pokes Sanada in the arm. "Not gonna take a bath?" he asks.
Sanada blinks. "I will later-"
"Not gonna take a bath?" Niou says again. He looks up at the ceiling, but Sanada can't hear the sounds of Yukimura bathing. There's no water splashing, no loud thumps, nothing but Jackal telling Marui off for ripping the cable out of his gameboy.
Sanada's eyes go wide. "Oh," he says.
Yukimura is still in the bath tub. His back stiffens when Sanada slides the door closed and pads across the room. Sanada's entire body burns when he takes his clothes off, then folds them up. His body burns when he sits on the stool and showers the ick of train travel off his skin. His dick is hard, too. He tries to cover it with his modesty towel.
Yukimura takes the towel from his hands and sets it on top of Sanada's head instead.
"Hi," he says.
"Hello," Sanada mumbles.
Yukimura pokes Sanada's leg with his big toe. "Took you long enough, dummy."
"Sorry," Sanada says.
They don't say much. Yukimura flicks water at Sanada. He giggles, but when Sanada dunks his head under, he stops and gasps like a fish from underneath a mop of wet hair. It streams over his face like seaweed. Sanada tells him this and Yukimura gets his revenge by dunking Sanada under too.
They don't need to kiss. In the dark, when Jackal and Yagyuu whisper and Niou snores louder than Marui and Renji has stopped reading under his futon with a flashlight, Yukimura pushes his futon right up against Sanada's. He places a finger over his lips and lifts up the edge of Sanada's cover.
Sanada doesn't hesitate when he nods. Having Yukimura's warm, slightly sticky body pressed against him is better than anything.
It makes the morning calisthenics entirely worth it, too, when Sanada wakes up with an impression of Yukimura's pajama shirt button pressed into his cheek.
7.
Tennis practice starts on Thursday, but Sanada rallies with Yukimura on Monday afternoon. Renji watches and takes mental notes. The sun is bright, the camellia blossoms are big and red. The sakura trees on the school campus dust the tennis courts with petals that flutter up when Yukimura smashes a ball down.
Sanada clicks his tongue. He returns the favour with a rising shot. Yukimura laughs at him. "I knew you'd do that!" He scores a point with a second smash.
Sanada wipes the sweat from his forehead. Yukimura walks up to the net and cocks his head to the side. He's not sweating, but his hair is windswept and tangled. His mouth is flush. Tingles creep down Sanada's belly and settle in his dick. Yukimura smiles.
"Ne, Sanada?"
Sanada looks at him. Yukimura looks away and bites his lip. Lately, they've held hands walking home from the streetcourts, or school. Yukimura doesn't talk as much now that his voice cracks. Sanada has never talked much either. They can walk through a park of momiji trees and plums without a word. Yukimura's presence at Sanada's side is enough. Their hands are always sweaty and warm. Sometimes, Sanada thinks about kissing Yukimura.
They've only kissed twice. Or, tried to kiss twice.
The first time, Yukimura said Sanada looked like a tuna fish. It wasn't as hot or romantic as the movies made it seem.
The second time, Sanada leaned down and bumped Yukimura's nose. That hurt.
He thinks about it, on days like today. The new school year has fresh possibilities. The weather is warming, the air is sweet with the smell of flowers and life. The tennis courts crunch under Sanada's sneakers. Yukimura's cheeks are pink with the morning chill, and the workout from playing.
"HEY! You guys!"
Sanada blinks. Yukimura whips his head around. Renji blinks, too, and then he tucks his pen into his shirt pocket-he didn't change into his club uniform.
By the hydrangea bushes, a kid stands with a heavy bag strapped over his back. His hair is a mess. He's grinning with his teeth. Sanada scowls.
"Want a game?" the kid asks.
"No," Sanada says.
The kid sniffs. He clicks his tongue and walks up to them. Renji eyes him carefully. Yukimura raises his eyebrows, favouring the freshman (Sanada assumes) with a small smile. Sanada clenches his jaw. The moment dissolves into the atmosphere as the kid steps onto the court, invading their territory.
"Tryouts aren't until Thursday," Renji tells him.
"I know," the kid says. "But I'm gonna crush you three first."
Sanada lifts up his cap brim to get a better look. The kid stares at them. His eyes are wide. They reflect the morning light and glow, almost demon-bright. He has cuts on his arms and bruises on his face, but he doesn't have the gaunt look of an abused kid. Instead, his cheeks are full. His smile grows sharper the longer Sanada stares him down.
Then, Sanada starts to laugh. The kid's expression falls.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Sanada says. Renji makes a noise under his breath. Yukimura raises his other eyebrow.
The kid balls his fists. He smashes them to his sides and stomps his foot. "Yeah, I do!" he says. His voice rises. "I'm gonna fucking crush you three! Be here tomorrow after school or be SQUARE!" he shouts.
The kid runs off. A crow flies up from the hydrangeas.
Sanada and Yukimura and Renji look at each other. Sanada laughs again. "Idiot," he mutters.
"Interesting," Yukimura says.
"Odd," Renji says.
The kid is on the courts Tuesday afternoon. He's in the white PE uniform. Renji hasn't changed from his school uniform, but Sanada and Yukimura have. Sanada grabs his bag from the clubhouse.
"Go home," he says.
The kid slings his racket over his shoulder. He jumps onto his other foot. "No," he says. He grins. He's a cocky brat. Sanada wants to shove him out of the way. He's standing in the middle of Yukimura's favourite court. Sanada pulls a ball out from his pocket to serve. The kid doesn't move.
"Get out of the way!" Sanada snaps.
"Not until you play me."
Sanada rolls his eyes. The wind blows through the trees. It flutters the hem of Sanada's t-shirt. He glares down his nose at the kid.
"Just play him, Sanada!" Yukimura calls out. Sanada looks up. Yukimura smiles from the bench. Sanada's heart swells. He glances to Renji, who shrugs.
"Fine."
"If I win, I want your spot on the team!" the kid says. He cackles.
Sanada snorts. "Tarundoru," he whispers.
The kid plays a good game. He smashes and cackles his way through the volley Sanada sets up. He split-steps across the court. His eyes never leave the ball. But as soon as Sanada uses a ground smash, sealing the kid's poach, it's game over. The kid screams. Sanada serves, the kid returns, Sanada catches him off guard and smashes again into his blind spot.
"Fool," Sanada says. He slices his racket through the air. He breaks up another play from the kid, who grows more and more desperate. The kid runs across the court. He slides into the clay ground, cutting his legs up in attempts to dive.
It's an easy win. Sanada lifts his cap off his head. The brim is damp. He stiffens. The kid lays sprawled on the court, face-down. His back shakes.
Sanada walks off the court when the kid gets up. He lets out a low growl which grows into a high-pitched scream. He is a demon, with glowing bloodshot eyes and spit flying.
"You!" he shrieks. He points his racket to Yanagi. "You! I'm gonna crush you now! I'll take your spot instead!"
Renji sighs. Sanada stuffs his hat back down on his head. Yukimura nods to the kid. He's started to flail his arms in the air. His head shakes. He breathes hard enough that Sanada can hear him all the way over here.
Sanada sits down on the bench next to Yukimura. Renji stands up. He takes his racket from his bag and meets the kid at the net. Yukimura inches closer to Sanada until their knees brush. Sanada unfolds his arms off his chest to look at him.
"This freshman is interesting," Yukimura murmurs. He leans into Sanada's shoulder, but his eyes ping-pong across the court as he watches Renji's volley. Sanada sighs into Yukimura's breathing.
"He's a fool," Sanada mutters.
"No," Yukimura says. He pokes Sanada in the arm. "Look."
The kid takes a point off Renji. His split-step allows him to change direction on the court faster than Renji's Yamaitachi shot. Renji fumbles with his next serve-his face is calm, but his serve is slow. The kid takes a second point, then a third and then the game. Renji's brow furrows. Sanada narrows his eyes.
One game doesn't make a win. Renji trips the kid up with a quick, unexpected drop shot. It bounces in a staccato beat, like an insect, behind the kid.
When he loses a second time, the kid sinks to his knees. Renji sets his racket down beside the bench. He leans down to tie his sneaker. The back of his school shirt is soaked through and sticks to his skin.
On the court, the kid howls. "NO!" he screams. He forces a laugh. The sound grates Sanada's ears. He moves over into Yukimura to allow Renji to sit on the bench. For a moment, all three of them watch the kid claw at the ground. His eyes are bloodshot, but he's not crying.
Yukimura stands up. Sanada says, "Yukimura", but Yukimura walks up to the net first.
"Would you like to play me, too?" he asks. The jacket on his shoulders slips off to one side. Yukimura pulls it back up. He cradles his racket against his chest. Then, he tosses the kid a ball.
"You can serve."
It doesn't matter what the kid does. He loses 6-0 to Yukimura without a single point gained, like he did with Sanada, or a game, like he did with Renji. After, the kid writhes on the ground, screaming swears at the three of them. He spits blood. His eyes bleed. His racket has popped a string from trying to return a shot of Yukimura's with a failed hadoukyu-like move. His arms shake and he can't stand up. Renji offers a hand, which the kid refuses.
Sanada and Yukimura walk through the park. The sky is purple through the glassy maple leaves, so recently unfurled and green. There is pollen in the air that makes Yukimura sniffle and wipe his nose with his jacket sleeve. Sanada holds his free hand. Their shoes crunch on the old, wet leaves from last autumn that litter the ground and collect in muddy depressions.
"His name is Kirihara Akaya," Yukimura says. "I told Nishiki to save a spot for him on the regulars."
"He's not good enough," Sanada says.
Yukimura stops. He tugs on Sanada's hand and pulls him backward. Yukimura's arm slides up to Sanada's elbow. He hugs Sanada's arm tight and his eyes flick up. His lashes are long, his eyes dark as they reflect the last of the afternoon's light. "Sanada," he whispers.
"Mn?"
"We'll train him."
8.
A repeat of the Nationals win is fools' thinking. They did it once last year, but Sanada doesn't feel so certain about a second trophy.
If they win, Sanada will kiss Yukimura.
9.
They win the Nationals.
It's too good to be true. He should have known better. As soon as Yukimura stepped onto the court to play Makinofuji in singles two, he owned the court. He didn't take his jacket off. He didn't break a sweat. He played a fast, fierce game. There was no mercy shown for his opponent. Yukimura smashed. Makinofuji gasped. Yukimura lobbed. The sun was harsh. It was blinding.
At the announcement of the game set and match, Sanada exhaled. Yukimura stood at the net. There was a halo of bright sun around his face.
The team stormed the court. Sanada was caught up in the rush of people and cheering and laughter and crying. He bumped into senpais, and Yukimura. Yukimura beamed at him. His eyes glowed. They were wet in the corners. Sanada hugged him tight.
Reality only sets in at the sushi bar. Niou sidles into a seat between Sanada and Yukimura. Sanada glares at him. Niou throws his head back and smirks. He offers Sanada an octopus sushi.
"Pucker up!" he says. He wiggles the sushi in Sanada's face. Sanada shoves him away. The recoil of Niou's arm smacks Yukimura in the face.
Sanada's eyes go wide. "Yukimura, I-"
Yukimura takes the octopus from Niou. "I like octopus," he says. He pops it into his mouth and chews. Then, he adds, "Thanks, Niou."
Niou smirks. "No probs."
Sanada sits and stews. Yukimura talks to Niou and Renji, but not him. Sanada stops eating the sushi. The tamago roll churns in his stomach. Sanada sighs. His throat feels thick when he looks up to see Yukimura making a puckered face. He won’t ever have the chance to kiss Yukimura now.
Sanada's thought of nothing but kissing Yukimura for three weeks straight, since they won the regionals. Now, it hurts to sit here with his team. Sanada checks his watch. He could go home and be alone. He stands up. No one notices. He walks to the door.
"Oi, Sanada!" Nishiki calls out.
Sanada mutters an excuse. The lie makes his chest tighten. As soon as he walks out of the sushi bar, he exhales. His breathing is shuddered. No one will miss him tonight. The flush of today's win has settled into a dread over Yukimura. He kicks himself and wishes he'd taken Niou's damn octopus sushi.
Tokyo is alive at night. Thousands of people stream by Sanada. Thousands of lights flash a kaleidoscope of colour on huge screens at pedestrian crossings. There is music and food everywhere. His stomach growls. Sanada stops at a light and clutches his stomach. He looks around: girls hang off their boyfriends' arms, middle-aged women walk with their husbands at a respectable distance. Everyone is a couple except him. He sniffles again. Under his cap brim, no one can see his eyes prick with tears.
He catches a train home. He changes at Yokohama station for the local line. On the platform, he imagines Yukimura calling his name. He imagines his cellphone buzzing in his pocket. The only real sound is the rushing train pulling up to the platform. The air pushes back on Sanada's face. He joins the crowds hobbling into the carriages. It's a limited express-he missed the express train by ten minutes.
Sanada stares out the window. He stands and sways with the movement of the train. It passes through the city, then the suburbs. The scenery is awash with blue and yellow and white and red lights. It melds into the forests of bamboo and cryptomeria, maples and wild sakura trees. His stop is the second last on the line.
He is the only one in the station. Sanada touches the corners of his eyes. He wipes away the wetness and starts to walk home. The night is quiet and warm. His footsteps echo on the empty streets.
"Sanada!"
Sanada stops walking. He stops breathing, too.
Yukimura runs up to him. His eyes are wide and black under the dim light from the street lamps. His lips are parted. He swallows and shakes his head. He grabs at Sanada's arm so fast that Sanada's tennisbag slides down his other arm. It falls to the pavement in a dull heap.
"Why did you leave?" Yukimura asks.
Sanada is silent for a moment. Yukimura digs his nails into Sanada's hand. Sanada winces at the pain. "I'm sorry," he says.
Yukimura clicks his tongue. He blows a raspberry. Sanada leans down to pick his bag up. It's a half-hour walk home, and up a mountain. There are no cars in the area. There is no one else except the chirping crickets. Sanada walks ahead of Yukimura. He closes his eyes, but he doesn't look back.
Yukimura follows. He jogs up beside Sanada. "I was only joking around with Niou."
Sanada says nothing. He sucks his stomach in. His insides melt into his cock the longer Yukimura walks with him. Yukimura stretches his arms above his head. He smells sweaty. Sanada doesn't mind. His throat closes up again when they cut into the patches of forest scattered along the road.
It is too quiet and too dark here. The air is damp and thick. Sanada's blood rushes when Yukimura lifts his eyes. Somehow, they have stopped walking. Somehow, his tennisbag has slipped again. Yukimura licks his lips. His eyes hold Sanada to the spot.
His hand shakes on the back of Yukimura's neck. He can feel the sweat and the tickle of Yukimura's hair. Yukimura tilts his head up higher. Sanada leans closer until he can taste Yukimura's breathing. It is fishy and there is the sharpness of wasabi, too.
This will never be perfect. Yukimura's nose bumps his. Sanada's legs wobble. The insects are too loud and the night too warm. Sanada's back is sweaty. Yukimura's hair is stringy. But Sanada closes the gap between them. His lips touch the side of Yukimura's mouth first. He starts to cringe, but the sensation of Yukimura's lips parting is good. Sanada tries kissing him again, harder and deeper as their mouths finally meet.
It doesn't have to be perfect, but it already kinda is.