FIC: Rewind Forward (D1) 43/63
Title: Rewind Forward (43/63)
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17 (eventual)
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Niou, meet Yagyuu.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for everything.
The clapping, the cheering, the rhythmic chanting for Rikkai, all of it surrounds Niou as he stands on the court, nodding to Sanada as he waits for Yagyuu to follow him. Sanada frowns. Even though the cheerleading squad's rustling pompoms and frantic "GO RIKKAI DAI! GO GO RIKKAI DAI!" drowns everything else out, Niou can hear Sanada, he can see Sanada scowling.
"Take off your weights," he says. "I want you to play at full power." His arms and legs are crossed. He looks as constipated as ever under his hat, but Niou-always Yagyuu!-undoes the Velcros on his weights. Sanada's words are a surprise, but he suppresses the urge to talk back, to demand why. Seigaku are a mess of jumpy players right now: that acrobatic Kikumaru prances onto the court with a cartwheel.
But Yagyuu would follow Sanada's order.
So Niou places the weights down on the ground, not far from Sanada. He watches Sanada over the rim of his glasses as he rises, careful with his posture. His wrists have white bands where the skin hasn't seen the light of day in months, years, ages.
"Niou!" Sanada snaps. "Did you hear what I said?"
Yagyuu, on the other hand, keeps his back turned to Sanada. Niou can see enough. Not only can he see the subtle rise of Yagyuu's round butt under his shorts, but he can also see Yagyuu rolling his eyes. From under his fringe of bleached hair, Yagyuu narrows his eyes and curls his lips. "I'll take them off when I decide to take them off. Don't glare at me like that, Sanada," he says. He spits Sanada's name out as though it tastes of that disgusting apple bubblegum Marui continues to chew in the stands.
As much as Niou knows Sanada wants to slap Yagyuu for his cheek-that, and his hand twitches under his crossed arms-Sanada doesn't press the matter further. He sits back on the bench with a humph as Yagyuu saunters toward the net where Oishi and Kikumaru are waiting to start, waiting to play.
Niou straightens his back even more. He drops his shoulders to ease the tension in his muscles, and then he walks out as tall as he can. The sunlight glares at his lenses. The cicadas hum and the trees rustle, filled with the plaintive coos of pigeons and-in the distance-the caws of two crows, laughing back and forth to each other.
Oishi and Kikumaru will be the fools today, Niou thinks. His lips quirk when he sees Oishi turn to them as they approach the net. His brow is a mess of worried lines and dripping sweat. His racket, dropped in his hand, shakes on his knees, tapping them with staccato nerves.
Niou's nerves are taught, too, but no one needs to see. Niou's lips want to purse and he wants to toy with his rat tail, but instead, he focuses on one easy exhale as he stands, racket held at his side. He bows his head a little. "Let's have a good game, Oishi-kun," he says.
Yagyuu is a perfect slouched, cocky player at Niou's left. His racket is slung over his shoulder, held in his left hand and when he lifts his head up to Kikumaru, he snorts. "Puri."
Kikumaru clicks his tongue. None too quiet, he leans to Oishi and says, "Jeez, that guy is rude."
The game is announced. Seigaku takes their place on the courts and Niou watches from their baseline as Kikumaru side-steps back to his partner. Oishi hesitates on his serve as Kikumaru speaks, some pep talk involving wild gesticulations and victory signs. Niou blinks. He can't roll his eyes now. He's Yagyuu.
Yagyuu would fix his glasses instead.
Niou touches the frames, pushing them down on the one side to straighten them out. His eyes rest for a second, grateful for the shade of his hand before he plants his feet to receive the first serve.
Oishi will be predictable. His volleys will be long and strong, but straightforward. Yanagi didn't have to say it for Niou to be able to see it, written all over Oishi's determined gaze as he nods to Kikumaru and throws the ball up.
First shot, right as Niou expected, long and deep. He runs up for it, hitting it back. Oishi wants a volley, fine, Niou will give him one for now. He wants to see more of Seigaku's tennis before anything slips, before any tricks are pulled out of his sleeves.
At the net, Yagyuu does some strange little butt wiggle, cackling under his breath as Niou's volley zips across the net. He mirrors Kikumaru. Kikumaru dashes left, Yagyuu follows. Kikumaru takes a step back and goes right, Yagyuu does the same thing, his butt wiggling the entire time.
It would be entrancing to watch Yagyuu's wriggling little dance and butt wiggling at any other time, but for now, Niou concentrates on watching Oishi. His eyes are sore from the bright light, magnified by these dumb, dorky glasses and it's hard. Oishi drags his racket back, so fast on the clay court that Niou can see sparks flying. Then, Oishi flings the ball up, arcing it into the sky.
"Moon Volley!" the Seigaku side shouts. A few freshmen in matching uniforms all flap their hands and cheer for Oishi-senpai's special move.
Niou's lips quirk. Special move, eh?
The ball is over Yagyuu's head and barreling straight down towards the baseline. Niou turns, running for the centre with his racket ready. The ball is too close, the sun almost too bright to tell whether it will be in or out, but Oishi's confidence and his poise suggests his aims are firm.
One bounce, right on the white line. Niou sucks in a breath and hits the ball on the rising, leaning down with his racketface open to make the shot before he twists his wrist up. He carries the ball and gives it a slight spin on the return.
He really hit it right on the line! Niou thinks.
At the net, Yagyuu keeps bouncing. He's following Kikumaru so close now that Niou can barely make out his form: Yagyuu's spiky wigs covers Kikumaru's equally flippy red hair. Niou frowns. Oishi hits a wide volley back, again toward the baseline. But he didn't have enough time to move and angle his shot much, so Niou only has to lean to the right. His racket feels odd in his right hand-it always has-but the shot is good. It should be good. He leans down and swings up, grunting on the follow-through.
He doesn't even bother aiming. He knows his body well enough. The shot will be in. The shot will zoom past the net, back for Oishi to keep up this friendly, fake volley going.
The shot will-
Yagyuu moves again, blocking Kikumaru's view as the ball shoots straight toward them. Niou's eyes go wide. He can’t see. He sucks in a breath, his chest tight with shock when Yagyuuu suddenly veers right, even though his body tips the other way and…
The balls smacks Kikumaru right in the middle of his face.
The sick sound of the tennis ball hitting his flesh drowns out any other noises, including Niou's sharp inhale. Niou freezes in the spot as he watches: the glint from Yagyuu's teeth, the way Kikumaru arcs back, falling onto the court with a stunned, wide-eyed look to his face.
Niou breathes carefully. He drops his racket to his side. He can't believe what Yagyuu has done and before he can yell out, You idiot! Yagyuu saunters up to the net, laughing under his breath. Oishi yells out and charges to the net, throwing his racket to the side. "EIJI!"
Kikumaru lies there as Yagyuu sneers, looking down his nose the way he would with his glasses on. His lip curls up.
His voice is cold and his laughter colder. "Too bad, how sad, better luck next time."
And then, to top it off, he twirls his racket around his wrist, the same way Kikumaru would.
"You bastard!" Oishi yells. "You did that on purpose!"
Niou doesn't hear anything more before a rush of people run onto the court, crowding around Kikumaru's body. The frantic sirens of an ambulance approach and Niou turns, seeing the flashing lights through the trees surrounding the courts. He purses his lips tight, hating the glasses on his face right now, hating the way they glare and feel and make him clumsy and make him Yagyuu, the blameless one.
Niou's body shakes with repressed anger and he resists the urge to ball his fist and run up to punch Yagyuu. He would never do that, contrary to the image Yagyuu portrays right now that Niou, the trickster, the one there's no data on must be the one who hits other players.
Niou has played the game long enough to know better. His eyes flash to Sanada, who sits on the bench and glowers at Niou-Yagyuu, whoever he is at the net rolling his eyes with boredom as two medical attendants run onto the court with a stretcher. Anger flushes over his skin and for a moment, Niou finds himself touching the back of his net, ready to rip the sweaty, hot wig off his head and say the trick is up because Yagyuu's fucked things up. If they're disqualified…
His blood curdles.
He doesn't even want to think of that possibility, and yet…
Niou shakes his head. Tucking his racket under his arm, he jogs up to the net, sending Yagyuu a pointed glare before he kneels down with the crowd around Kikumaru. "Is he all right?" he asks. His voice shakes. It loses Yagyuu's polite, clipped and calm tone, but he can't help it.
Oishi grabs Niou by the shoulder and shakes him hard. Niou is limp, his head whipping back and forth as Oishi yells something at him. But the Seigaku coach steps up, steps between them. "It was an accident!" she says. "Oishi!"
Oishi's hand digs into Niou's shoulder, in the soft spot between his collar and back and he winces, hissing at the pain, although it can't be anything compared to Kikumaru's. Or even Oishi's own. The kid cries when the attendants help Kikumaru onto the stretcher. He clings to Kikumaru's hand as they pick the stretcher up to carry him off.
Niou's shoulders slump. He can see the dark shadow of Yagyuu over him, the spiky hair and the rag doll posture a dark stain across the court. Oishi groans through his teeth, through his tears and makes a leap for Yagyuu-
But his coach holds him back a second time.
Niou stands up and turns to Yagyuu. Yagyuu plays with the end of his rat tail, snorting in Kikumaru's direction as the kid is carted off the court. Niou glares, wanting Yagyuu to feel how pissed he is that they'll be disqualified: Kirihara pulls this shit, not them. It was perfect until Yagyuu decided to vent his aggression onto some other player. The first time, yeah, it was funny and a little scary, but it wasn't an official game against Jyousei Shounan.
Niou breathes through his nose, listening to the faint whistling sound it makes. The Seigaku coach and Oishi walk off to speak to a referee and Yagyuu just scuffs his sneaker-Niou's sneaker-and blows at the hair falling over his face.
Niou stands up and looks at him. He cracks his knuckle, making Yagyuu look up. He clears his throat, swallowing the tense anger that hovers between them, thick in the air as the heat. "I hope," he hisses, "you're pleased with yourself, Niou-kun!"
Yagyuu smiles. That dangerous, twisted little smirk on the one side of his face as he whispers "Puri!"
It would be dead sexy, if Niou wasn't afraid of being kicked out of the tournament. It would make him hard and swollen and aching in his shorts if Niou wasn't worried that Sanada will slap them hard enough to leave marks. It would make Niou want to yank that wig off Yagyuu's head and throw himself against Yagyuu's chest, drinking in that cocky arrogant, violent way he sucks Niou in, if-
"We can't lose, O-i-shiii!"
There is a collective gasp from the crowds around the courts. Niou whips his head around as Kikumaru back-flips off the stretcher and then jogs up to Oishi and his coach, brushing off the medical assistants with a laugh. His team erupts in a cheer, all pompoms waving and maniacal grins as Kikumaru grabs his racket and bounces back to the net.
He fixes his head, staring at Niou with huge eyes. In the back of his mind, Niou thinks that Kikumaru probably shouldn't be playing, the way his focus is vague and clouded, although his expression set in a determined line. He narrows his eyes at Yagyuu.
"Be prepared to be punished by Kikumaru-sama's acrobatics!" he announces. He flips his racket from side to side. Then, he points it straight at Yagyuu.
It's corny, but Niou is too relieved to even contemplate snorting. Besides, he's Yagyuu. Yagyuu wouldn't snort. Yagyuu would stand by the net and smile blandly and say "I'm glad it was nothing too serious. Please excuse my partner."
Kikumaru buys it. Yagyuu, however, doesn't. He shrugs his shoulders and wanders off, muttering about "Whatever. The true terror is about to begin…"
I would never say that, Niou thinks. Puri!
Oishi shouts to Yagyuu, telling him to wait right there, but Kikumaru stops him with a hand on the arm. "Hoi, Oishi," he says, smiling of all things, "take a deep breath. Don't fall into their trap."
A jealous twinge pokes Niou in the stomach as he watches, out of the corner of his eye; Kikumaru and Oishi have a pow-wow. They touch arms and shoulders and lean so close they might as well be kissing. His face feels warm and the sun too hot, beating down on his head the way Kikumaru slaps his hand on Oishi's shoulder, telling him not to cry anymore because it's all right and they'll kick Rikkai's asses.
Niou shifts his glance away, remembering that Yagyuu can't see beyond the edge of his glasses lenses. As he walks back to the baseline, relief sinking in that the game will resume, he can't help but hear the distinct sound of Kirihara's chuckling nearby.
A shiver runs down his spine. He looks up as the game is announced a second time. The back of his neck prickles. His arms flush with a cold frisson because Kirihara knows.
How? he thinks.
But it's obvious, to him, to Kirihara, when he sees Yagyuu at the net. Yagyuu, waiting for the next serve from Oishi, with a wiggle to his rounded butt. He bounces on the ball of his foot, a tiny little dance to his body as he leans low and runs for the shot. Yagyuu keeps dancing around, following Kikumaru's movements in mirror play and waving his racket wide to block Kikumaru's view when Niou hits a volley back to Oishi.
"I won't be tricked anymore by you," Kikumaru tells Yagyuu.
Yagyuu side-steps left. His footwork is bad; Niou can see the sloppy form and the way Yagyuu nearly steps on his toes. Nothing compared to Kirihara's, not even as okay as his own. But when Niou flashes a glance to their bleachers, no one seems to be watching Yagyuu's feet.
They're watching Yagyuu cup his ear and cock his head toward Kikumaru. He makes a noise, like a pigeon coo and then he snorts. "Eh?"
Niou frowns. Yagyuu is playing around too much. If he can't read many of Yagyuu's bland faces when he's himself, then reading Yagyuu's little sneers and smirks and flickering racket movements confuses him even more. The ball flies back to the baseline, a nice shot by Oishi and easy enough for Niou to twist his own wrist to give it a bit of spin on the return. He aims low to the net, in the hopes that Kikumaru won't read the ball.
But Yagyuu keeps blocking him. Still. After their first fuck up. Get out of the way! Niou thinks. He wants to shake Yagyuu by the shoulders and move him out of the fucking way!
Yagyuu snakes his head the other way, the ball narrowly zooming by his ear. Kikumaru yelps and his eyes go huge as he dives for the shot. Kikumaru is fast, though. Faster than Niou would have thought when he suddenly bounces off the toe of his sneaker, twists his body around and with two-hands he sends the ball back across the net, transforming a punt into a beam of blinding yellow as he shouts "Kiku-maru BEAM!"
The ball slams into the court right behind Yagyuu's shoulder. Yagyuu spits out a swear and the Seigaku crowds go wild as the point is announced for Seigaku.
Yagyuu sniffs.
Niou purses his lips. Stop playing around, Yagyuu! That was an easy ball!
He should have run for it himself, but it was in Yagyuu's area. If Yagyuu hadn't have been prancing around and wiggling his ass and waving his arms like a starfish, they could have kept the volley going in their own momentum.
The next two serves, Yagyuu continues to side-step around and his feet crunch on the clay court. Niou takes the balls, running up to the mid-court, then back to the baseline because Yagyuu isn't helping. He mutters things under his breath. He tips his head one way, then the next, as if Niou can't see (when Yagyuu gets out of the damn way!) how Kikumaru tilts his racketface in or out depending on the direction he'll run and shoot from. Most players do that. It's simple habit. And here Yagyuu acts like its some deep, dark secret only he can see.
Niou is getting increasingly frustrated and he knows it. He can't express it through his catchphrase because Yagyuu is him right now. He can't slug the balls too hard or with too much teeth bared because he's Yagyuu, not Niou, and Yagyuu prefers light grunting and faster shots. Niou grips his racket as loose as he can, but his nails want to dig into the grip tape and slam the balls into Seigaku's court.
They're down 40-15. Oishi waits for a fresh ball from the sidelines and Niou can't stand it anymore. The tension makes him want to whack Yagyuu over the head and whip the glasses off his nose and give up the trick. Tension squeezes his stomach, and the back of Niou's mouth tastes of bitter bile and anger at Yagyuu for being a twit more so than Seigaku taking the points.
"Quit playing around, Niou-kun!" he snaps. Play seriously, you megane dork! Niou has his elbows on his hips and he does his best to glare over the top of the damn glasses that don't stop their southward slide.
Yagyuu leans on the net, one hand in his pocket and the other, his left, twirling Niou's racket. "Puri," he says. His eyes flash dangerously, all dark and glittering in the sunlight. Yagyuu's barely broken a sweat, too, because Niou can see his forehead when he tosses his head back and shakes his hair.
Niou, on the other hand, has his t-shirt clinging to his back, wet and sticky and stinking. He walks back to the baseline with a frown.
Then he frowns deeper when he hears Sanada grunt something to Yanagi before the serve starts. Sanada blames Niou, he knows. Sanada will blame Niou for letting Seigaku get a head start and waste their time. The clock ticks down-their game, Yukimura's operation and Niou feels the pressure. He feels the heat, too. Waves of it bake the edges of the court, making it hard to see the ball sometimes when his glasses move.
He runs. Yagyuu bounces.
He dashes and swings. Yagyuu swerves and laughs at Kikumaru.
But Kikumaru is the one laughing when he jumps through the air, reaching wide to catch the ball Niou lobbed. "Fuck!" Niou whispers and he runs before he thinks, needing to get to the ball first but Yagyuu moves too, running in his way and eclipsing the light and the ball and-
"Game Seigaku! 1-0!"
Until they switch courts Niou doesn't realize just how hard he's breathing. He can't avoid himself when he purposely walks around the net at the opposite side from where Sanada sits, arms crossed and face pinched up under the dark shadow of his hat brim. Even though Niou taunts others for their habits, he's a creature of the same mould and Sanada pisses him off regardless.
Yagyuu, however, skips past Sanada, chucking his chin in pure mockery. "Niou!" Sanada snaps.
But Yagyuu's head is turned and Sanada can't see when Yagyuu sticks his tongue out, rolling his eyes at whatever muttered threat Sanada gives him. Niou's heard it all a hundred times before: laps, sweeping the courts, backhanded slaps. Sanada never changes either.
It's Niou's serve next. Yagyuu takes a few steps toward the centre of their court, looking up from a lazy pose and scuffed sneakers, but Niou ignores it. He takes the ball from the ichinen who runs out with one-one of Rikkai's first years, some kid with cork-screw curls and heat stroke, given his red face. "I-I'm so envious of you playing, senpai!" he squeaks.
Niou would laugh at the kid.
But, he's Yagyuu. "Aa," he says as his hand closes around the ball. The kid ducks his head. "Thank you," Niou adds. Then he fixes his glasses, cringing inside at how lame lame lame he sounds.
Niou has Yagyuu's serve down pat: bend low until his lower back strains from the tension of his muscles. Snap up and throw the ball, twist his racket as soon as it hits the ball and slam the shot out from his body, pushing his weight into the shot to gain speed. He doesn't have Yagyuu's mass, he knows, but it's close compensation being just a little shorter-it balances out. Yagyuu is longer, leaner and his shoes make Niou flop around a little as he runs to position.
Oishi takes the ball-surprise surprise, Niou thinks-and Yagyuu goes after the return. He's too predictable like that, teeth bared and arm dropped for a poach that Kikumaru calls. Yagyuu swears and groans, changing his play in an instant as he lifts his racket up, following through with blazing eyes and sweat beading on his lip.
Kikumaru uses a two-handed shot. He's controlling the pace now and each ball Yagyuu smashes or slams onto their court loses momentum, it loses accuracy and aim because his arms are too wide, his posture an indeterminate middle between his own and Niou's and he's swearing, too angry to play properly because he's not playing as himself.
The heat is palpable and overbearing. Niou sweats. He should be the one directing their game-Yagyuu, over to that corner, no not THERE Oishi will use a lob!-but he's not himself either. Niou sighs and shakes his head. The sun scorches the court as Yagyuu dances over it, staying too close to the net to do any proper damage to Seigaku's control.
Once, Niou even catches Yagyuu gesturing behind his back. Two fingers, pointing to him but he makes no sense and Niou cringes inside because they haven't used hand signals in ages and then Kikumaru's sharp eyes see Yagyuu and he grins. "Hoi hoi!" he shouts as he jumps up, spins around and slams the ball down, just over Yagyuu's left shoulder.
His blind spot.
The fool acts like he's wearing glasses, turning his head instead of his eyes. For a second, Niou freezes; a feverish flush of anger stains his skin because they'll be discovered before play time is finished.
Seigaku is stronger than they expected. Yanagi brushed them off. Hell, Niou brushed them off. Oishi wasn't supposed to be as precise as he is and this Kikumaru…sometimes his acrobatic twirling is too ridiculous to be believed, and yet other times, he completely catches Yagyuu off guard. The sun doesn't help. The heat turns the court into a mirage: double balls and disappearing volleys.
Niou clenches his jaw. The back of his neck tingles. He can feel that megane data man's eyes watching him. Waiting for that shot.
Their saving grace.
He hasn't used it yet.
They're a game down. But it's too early.
Niou volleys the next shot. Kikumaru takes it, lobbing it high in the air, arcing the ball over Yagyuu's head and making him run around in circles. Maybe Niou's sneakers pinch Yagyuu's toes, the way his steps are forced and minced and his face is curled up in a sneer. "Fuck!" he snaps when the ball hits the court. He catches it on the rebound with the rim of his racket, but it's not good enough. Yagyuu craves a perfect game, not this mess with Seigaku. He can't hide his true feelings-at least, Niou can tell otherwise.
He can see Yagyuu's back shaking in anger. His shoulders twitch. His racket is too stiff, his grip too tight.
So be it, Niou thinks. His own thoughts are taking on Yagyuu's voice. It makes him laugh inside, kukuku.
Oishi runs for the centre-court. Kikumaru is at the right side. The court is open, a straight line through the middle. Niou sucks in a shallow breath. His insides twist, curling and knotting themselves as the tension-and the temperature-rises. The court is awash with grunts and cheers and gasping and clapping and the ball smucking rackets and clay dust and-
Niou straightens his back. He drops his shoulders. He moves his elbow-fast, faster, he has to be quick because Oishi's volley is perfect and he runs up, a long stride almost too far and then he swings back wide and even and whips his arm around. His muscles shudder with the force of impact, the speed and then he looks up, but he's missed it, all except the whipped-up trail and crash as the ball hits the back of the fence.
Still spinning in the chainlink.
Oishi and Kikumaru are frozen in place, statues with dropped jaws, though really, they must have been warned about the laser beam.
Niou's heart slams in his chest, pounding into his ribs as he stands, posing the way Yagyuu does, just long enough to calm his nerves and reassure himself that it worked. He lowers his racket and looks up toward Yagyuu.
A tiny, crooked smirk plays on Yagyuu's lips. He raises an eyebrow, so brief that Niou is the only one who can see it.
Is he proud?
Niou exhales through his nose, silently praying that Yagyuu liked his laser. He's worked on it for months, on and off, and he knows he's not as good-he'll never be as good at it and it aches being aware of that, but…
Please, Yagyuu…he thinks. His throat feels tight and the collar chokes him off, though it's flipped up around his ears. He pushes his glasses up, unable to hold Yagyuu's stare.
Yagyuu makes a noise and turns away from him. He slings his racket over his shoulder and skips around, clicking his tongue, always playing that thin tightrope between their switch and discovery.
It eats Niou up. It makes bile rise in his throat, sting his tongue and seep into his chest. He purses his lips and snaps, "I want you to start playing seriously, Niou-kun!"
He doesn't know if he's Yagyuu or himself. But he does know he's tired of covering for Yagyuu's mistakes and Yagyuu's prancing around and treating this match like nothing. It means everything to Niou: those weeks of agony resulting in friendship renewed and he needs this. His body shakes and he balls his fist, digging into the griptape of Yagyuu's racket to keep himself calm and cool.
Niou lifts his free hand, touching the smooth skin where his wrist weight used to be. The sun glints on his lenses, but a sudden cloud rolls over, casting him into shadow. The cicadas and the crowds are quiet, a long drawn out silence after the laser.
"Play time is over," he whispers.
***
After the first laser, it's easy. Niou lasers himself through one game. Kikumaru and Oishi might be able to see the shot-the blur of yellow through the muggy air-they might be able to predict it-and Oishi does call the shots: "Eiji! Your left! Eiji- right, now!"-but that doesn't mean Seigaku can return the lasers.
Or, Niou's imitation thereof.
Maybe he should be worried that Yagyuu lets him waste the laser like this and gain point after point. One game, no-touch aces, then a second. Maybe he should be worried when all Yagyuu does is chuckle under his breath, that ridiculous kukuku sound that drives Niou batshit and makes him grind his teeth and grunt louder than he needs to when he slams the ball across the court. Maybe he should even be worried when Yagyuu pulls his eye and sticks his tongue out at Kikumaru as they play dance partners at the net, a fast-paced salsa of weaving footwork and flashing taunts, drop shots and lobs.
Maybe he should be, but he's not worried about Yagyuu. The second match is called in their favour and the Rikkai cheerleaders and support team are busy waving swishy pompoms and cheering them on to sweep the game.
Seigaku is sweating hard. Oishi is drenched and his hair plastered to his forehead in three wet strands. Kikumaru gasps and huffs at the net as they huddle and-if Niou's honest with himself-the way Kikumaru puffs and drips sweat reminds him an awful lot of Marui the fatty, only higher-pitched.
And yet, Seigaku are smiling and tapping rackets. Niou watches, frowning slightly. Oishi raises his hand in a fist and exhales loudly. And then Niou gets it. All those lazy balls and half-assed lobs weren't just Seigaku being less than par, Oishi purposely aimed the balls slow and low.
Kikumaru taps his temple and grins. Niou knows it for certain. The bastards played them so that Kikumaru could adjust his eyes to the laser's speed.
Niou shakes inside, wanting to smack that smirk off Kikumaru's face. He clenches his jaw and walks up to Yagyuu, clearing his throat softly to get his attention. Yagyuu turns, giving Niou a lazy stare. "Did you see it?" Yagyuu drawls.
Niou nods.
Yagyuu hums. "Ne Yagyuu?"
Niou raises an eyebrow.
But Yagyuu just shakes his head instead of saying anything. Niou's wig crawls; sweat builds up and slides over his scalp, burning and slow and driving him as mad as Yagyuu's newest smirk. Niou sniffs and goes to the net. His body is covered in a film of sweat and grit from the clay. His toes flop in Yagyuu's sneakers. The collar brushing his earlobes makes him itch to flip it down. His armpits are all sticky and rank as he shakes his arms out and gets ready for the next match.
Yagyuu serves and Kikumaru, cocky with his new-found vision, charges from the centre of his court back up to his own net, across from Niou. Niou backtracks; Oishi's shot opens up the court again for a laser. "Return my shot before you start celebrating!" Niou calls out as Kikumaru jumps and hoi-hois and tempts Niou just a little too much. The ball to his brain might have done something, but then again, maybe not. Niou rocks back on his ankle and his insides curl, anticipation for the ball making him weightless as he aims and poses. Niou throws his weight through his arm and slams the ball, whipping it through the air with a rippling whoosh.
But Kikumaru side-steps, hops and dives for the laser, so fast that Niou doesn't have time to react and Yagyuu doesn't bother. "HOI!" he shouts.
15-0 Seigaku.
Puri! he thinks. He opens his mouth and groans. The glasses slide down his slick nose, the nosepieces all gummy and the lenses getting smudged from constantly fixing them.
Seigaku takes the next game. Yagyuu doesn't seem to be trying and the more lasers Kikumaru returns, the sloppier Niou gets. He jerks on his feet and his elbow is too stiff. The ball shoots up too high, and Oishi returns it with a lob.
"Dammit!" he hisses under his breath. He doesn't care if Yagyuu does or does not swear, he's pissed that the so-called Golden Pair are returning laser after laser that he worked so hard on. Niou runs for the lob, switching to two hands and a flicked drop-shot in the hopes to move the momentum back to their own side.
Yagyuu, you bastard megane come and back me up!
He doesn't have time to check where Yagyuu is, he's too busy racing for Seigaku's returns, which get stronger and stronger now that they've started on some formation. The two of them, back to back with Oishi at the baseline and Kikumaru at the net and Niou can't see around Kikumaru to watch Oishi too because he's blocking him and the glasses are falling down again and he can't fix them and hit balls at the same time. Niou seethes through his teeth, but then Yagyuu runs up on his right side, out of nowhere and his racket's in the air and Kikumaru's moving too and somewhere in the stands he hears Kirihara calling out something about "Ne Yagyuu-senpai?" in that insolent, sing-song voice of his that grates Niou's nerves all the more.
Kikumaru's shot is deep to the middle of their court, straight and strong and Niou runs, his right hand trembling from the all today's effort and he has to make this shot because fuck if Yagyuu's going to even though Yagyuu is closer and-
Then Yagyuu snaps up, his back straightening and his wide stance tightening and his raises his chin, drops his shoulder, all in a split-second and Niou's heart flips over in his chest and his shorts strain too. Unconsciously, he knows that pose, even though it's his eyes that read it.
The ball shoots through Seigaku, ripping through the air without so much as a sound until it skids across the court, bouncing once. Everything reeks of burned rubber. The ball rolls softly into the net.
And Yagyuu is the one posing, with his racket out and his other hand above his head, slicing through Seigaku's formation with the real laser.
So the trick is up.
Niou curls his lips. He itches the edge of the wig, sighing out of the sheer pleasure that scratching his scalp does, making his toes tingle and his back shiver. Even his dick, half-hard without his knowing, twitches.
"As expected," he says. His voice starts as Yagyuu's with perfect clipped pronounciations of everything slurring into his regular tone as Niou adds, "the real laser beam has a completely different power, eh Yaaaagyuu?"
Oh, to roll Yagyuu's name off his tongue like that! Niou slides back into himself, loving the way Yagyuu's name sounds to his ears, loving the way Seigaku is stunned, glassy-eyed and stony-faced when he chucks the wig off and whips the glasses from his grateful nose.
Catch, Sanada! he thinks. Niou shoves his socks down. Yagyuu yanks his half-way up his calves again. Kirihara is the first one to start laughing, all demonic pleasure and flashing teeth that only adds to the floaty, surreal feeling settling in Niou's body and making him lighter than air as he steps up to the net, half-skipping as he says, "Puri!" with a big smile.
The cicadas sing. The crows cackle and the trees shake when a swarm flies up, lost in the glare of the sun's laser beams. If he listens hard enough, Niou can almost hear the faint hum of traffic from the Tokyo streets, all honking scooters and rushing cars, the crowds around their game are that quiet.
He clamps a hand on Yagyuu's shoulder. Yagyuu sniffs, his own bland expressions returning to his face as he wipes the mole off his chin with his thumb. Niou dangles the glasses by the arm.
The Seigaku megane data dork is the first to make a noise, muttering some incomprehensible statistics and numbers under his breath. Niou throws his head back, unable to stop himself from laughing louder. He claps his hands.
Yagyuu makes a noise, too, huffing and stomping off as he grabs the glasses from Niou and puts them on. They aren't his own. Niou knows they’re fake, pointless, but there's some quality the glasses have. Hiding Yagyuu's true feelings. Hiding Yagyuu's dark, almond-shaped eyes…
It's something Niou can't understand fully because he doesn't wear glasses. It's something Niou doesn't want to understand fully. He squints into the sun as the point is called for Rikkai. Kirihara chatters away in the bleachers and Niou takes a pink elastic from his pocket to tie his hair back. Yagyuu has set his wig down near Sanada's bench.
Seeing Sanada sitting there, all crossed limbs and pursed lips and scowls, the same as ever makes Niou roll his eyes. "Can't even crack a smile?" he asks.
Sanada glowers. Phantom memories of too many slaps makes Niou's face twitch. He snorts. I'll push my luck if I wanna push my luck, asshole…
Besides, it wasn't him that refused to remove his wristweights. It wasn't him that allowed Kikumaru to be beamed in the face.
Niou smirks anyway. His wrists still feel naked, but the skin isn't as puckered and pasty as it was when he peeled his weights off earlier. Besides, his racket feels that much lighter and easier to handle back in his own hand. Yagyuu's sweat seeped into the griptape and as much as Niou wants to sniff it to find Yagyuu and breathe him in deep, he'll wait.
Out of the corner of his eye, Seigaku still stands there. Niou shifts his gaze, lingering over them. Kikumaru's shallow breathing and slack-jawed stare make him look all the more gormless. Oishi stares off into his space, his eyes glazed over and sweat dripping down his ridiculous hairfangs.
"Check out the look on their faces," Niou murmurs. Yagyuu stops in his tracks and raises his eyebrows, making a little "Hn?" sound in the back of his throat.
Their switch might not have been perfect, but the effect was. Niou practically hops, skips and jumps back to the net. He twirls his racket around and around in his hand, finally able to mock Kikumaru himself. "Hoi hoi," he says. "Game's back on, Seigaku!"
The buzzing locusts and humming cicadas eat the air up as Seigaku stumbles back to position, shaking their heads. If it was easy to pick up the pace with lasers on his own, with Yagyuu and the true laser, it's so simple that Niou can close his eyes as he swings. The freedom without the wristweights and his left hand make his own imitation laser better than his right handed version. Ball after ball slams into the Seigaku court: Yagyuu's, then his, then Yagyuu's again. Niou bounces at the net, wiggling his ass the way Yagyuu did before just because he can.
Three games, four games, five-they come one after the other, the time ticking and whirling as the heat gets deeper, thicker, seeping into Niou's body and making him flush from the feverish haze of Tokyo summers. His socks are soaked in Yagyuu's sneakers, all itchy and rank, and he wants to end the game as soon as possible.
But for the moment, Niou dances.
Yagyuu shoots another laser down the middle of the opposite court. Kikumaru scrambles left and Oishi trips right, but neither of them makes the return. Niou shivers, smirking and loving the full feeling of impending victory. Seigaku are more work than any other team-so far, since they didn't once play Hyoutei this year-but for all their buildup and rumours about this being their year on the circuit, Niou scoffs and rolls his eyes.
And to make it worse for Seigaku's Golden Pair, their teammates start to fight in the stands. Fisticuffs and swearing as Kaidoh and Momoshiro launch at each other, teeth bared and lips curled and Niou just throws his head back and laughs.
He and Yagyuu switch spots, Yagyuu walking by him with that tall, confident air that makes Niou's knees shake just a little. His heart slams against his ribs-and not just from the excursion of playing under a beating sun. Niou swallows. He runs a hand through his damp hair, trying to distract himself for a moment before he gets harder from eyeing Yagyuu's upturned chin and the sweat dripping down his flushed face…
Would he flush like that when he comes, all pink cheeks and beads of sweat and disheveled hair with the little breathy grunt…
Niou shakes his head and exhales.
"Come on Niou-kun, let's close the curtain on this game," Yagyuu says. His voice is all smooth and velvet and wrapping around Niou's swollen cock.
The wind lifts and the insects break up their chorus. A bird flutters in the trees around the court and the spectators, mostly the little group of cross-armed, snorting Hyoutei players at the far end whisper more; they whisper differently. That irritating Jiroh has bounced off and when Niou turns to the Rikkai bleachers, he doesn't see Jiroh flapping around Marui there either. Not that Niou cares. Fanboys, beh! Niou thinks. That fatass can keep them all.
But the atmosphere is different. The heat hangs lower and heavier when the wind dies. A permeating cloud of dust and smog remains, and that distinctive Tokyo smell of melting flowers and trees and traffic exhaust and dust from the courts and the sweat of hundreds, too.
Yagyuu blinks and pauses. Niou looks at him, raising his head in a slow nod. You feel it, too, Yagyuu…
Yagyuu has this last serve. He'll bring it home and then they can collapse onto the bench behind Sanada and wait for Yanagi to finish up the games before lunchtime. Seigaku don't have anything funny up their sleeves-they're too transparent, too honest and they've cut the lame formations out, opting for the usual Oishi-at-right-baseline-and-Kikumaru-at-left-side-of-the-net.
"We came here to win!" they shout.
"That's nice," Niou mutters.
Yagyuu's serve zooms past Niou's side. Kikumaru and Oishi both move, Oishi going for the kill with a low shot. Too easy. Too obvious. Niou can see the spin on the ball Oishi returns, so he drops his arm, leans down and slams the ball with a forehand shot. You're too naïve. Those simple shots don't-
"Out!"
Niou's eyes snap wide open. What the…
He looks down the Seigaku court, his eyes trailing the path of his ball. Why wasn't it in? It should have been just behind Oishi's back? I didn't even need to aim they're so easy to return.
But the ball's imprint is there, unmistakable, a good foot behind the baseline.
Kikumaru's at the baseline now, having run there after Oishi made the play and instead Oishi is standing opposite Niou, grim determination in his round cow eyes. Yagyuu serves again. Niou sets up the play, allowing himself to take the side balls to give Yagyuu's laser a better chance. Kikumaru volleys, the shot is perfect and Niou's stomach tightens, his eyes eager to see that flash of yellow beam across the court.
But Yagyuu lobs instead.
What the hell?!?
Niou grinds his teeth, baring them and seething as he backhands Oishi's return. Kikumaru jumps for the ball, his annoying "HOI!" making Niou's eye twitch and again, he side-steps, giving Yagyuu the opportunity. Yagyuu grunts and yells something unintelligible, almost like an "Adieu!" but his voice is strained and tight and again, the ball arcs over head in a lob.
Oishi takes the ball.
Oishi takes the next point, too. 30-0.
Every ball seems to be arcing, curving, shooting back towards Oishi and in a flash, Niou remembers that Tezuka's zone, all those balls attracted to his racket, to his arm from some unusual spin and particular shots. But Oishi isn't that callibre of player. Oishi drips sweat and resolve, but his footwork is shit and even though he takes the next game, and a second, Seigaku 4-6, he's not all there yet.
Niou sucks in a breath and purses his lips. His hair is drenched. He pulls at the hem of his shirt to fan his stomach off. Even Yagyuu, poised and perfect, hangs his head and wipes sweat from his brow with his t-shirt. Niou can't help staring-just a little-because that sliver of Yagyuu's stomach, all pale and hard and soft looking makes Niou's insides curl up and slither down between his legs. His throat feels tight. He wants more than what they have now. He wants to run his fingers along the lines of Yagyuu's hips and touch his bellybutton and listen to Yagyuu makes those grunts he does in tennis, only in the sea of those musty, messy sheets of his that Niou could drown in…
"Niou-kun!" Yagyuu calls. His voice is too distinctively sharp to be a simple game play.
Niou sniffs. Oishi's at the net. He'll play net too. Despite all Yagyuu's lobbing and Oishi's control of the ball…Yagyuu hasn't used the laser in a few games. And Niou feels that little tingle, that prickle of knowledge at the back of his neck that makes his hair stand up there because Yagyuu's going to do something. Yagyuu's setting something up.
Excellent.
Serve. Return. Volley. Niou flails his arms and legs as wide as he can, prancing around like a circus idiot, all leering grin and dangling limbs as he taunts Oishi, messing with his head and making Oishi frown when Niou makes silly noices too, all "Hyou hyou!"s and that stupid little laugh that Yagyuu thinks he makes.
Oishi plants his feet and punts. Niou stretches wider, twisting his racket up to lob a return. The ball is too easy, but it'll give Yagyuu a chance to set a laser up if he's quick enough.
Kikumaru is quick too. He runs and shouts, "Don't Oishi! It's a decoy!" Oishi stiffens and whips his head around, missing the ball he could have returned, so Kikumaru dives down for it instead.
It doesn't matter what Kikumaru hits, though. Yagyuu's good. Yagyuu's fast and waves of desire already wash over Niou with a tight ache in his cock as he hears Yagyuu running, his sneakers scuffing the baseline because he's yelling "You haven't touched my laser yet!" to Seigaku and Niou knows him well enough now that he doesn't have to be able to see Yagyuu's posing, he knows as soon as those words sound, loud and clear:
"Adieu!"
Niou gasps.
Oishi and Kikumaru gasp.
Niou watches Kikumaru shake the shock and run for the laser anyway. He's too slow to catch it sooner, but he swings wide-probably hoping to punt it with the edge of his racket. But he has some other dumb play and Niou can only shake his head when Kikumaru's racket arcs wide around his body, almost like a snake shot, as he shouts some stupid "Kikumaru Bazooka!" Niou clicks his tongue and drags his racket down to use a rising shot.
Point Rikkai.
"Damn it!" Kikumaru hisses.
Oishi pats his partner on the shoulder. "Don't mind Eiji. We'll get it next time."
There won't be a next time, Niou thinks. The point is called in their favour. Only three more to go and the game is theirs.
Yagyuu lasers, 30-0.
Niou lobs, making sure to aim for that unforgiving beam of sunlight that blinds Seigaku-and himself. 40-0.
Seigaku puts up a fight on the match point. Oishi huffs and puffs and strains through a volley match with Yagyuu. Kikumaru backs him up, trying to copy their game with a decoy, but Yagyuu's not stupid. All he has to do is push his glasses up, curl his lip, rock back and stiffen his back and-
WHOOSH!
The sight of the last laser makes Niou's heart swell and catch in his throat. For a long moment, in that pregnant pause between the slam of the ball skidding across the Seigaku court in a yellow streak and the official's announcement, Niou can't breathe. He looks back to Yagyuu, his eyes thick and heavy and stinging when Yagyuu looks at him, soft around the eyes as his face breaks into a smile. A real smile that reaches his eyes, crinkling the edges and making his glasses fall down and if Niou was stronger, he'd run up to Yagyuu and hug, shake him so hard that Yagyuu would want to be with him too.
The way Niou wants to be with him.
But he doesn't.
They shake hands at the net with Seigaku. "You play a good game, Seigaku," Yagyuu tells them. Niou grunts. His eyes hover on Yagyuu's hand, shaking Oishi's, and then Kikumaru's with a sweaty, sure grip that Niou resents.
Until he and Yagyuu walk back to their bench. Something brushes the back of his hand, making him stiffen. Niou looks down, his eyes almost unable to believe the lingering touch of Yagyuu's fingertips as Yagyuu moves slowly to put his racket away. "Good game," he whispers.
Niou's hand burns. Frisson runs down his spine as Yagyuu's words echo in his ears, over and over, like a lover's kiss. Niou drops his racket onto the bench. He can't breathe at all.
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17 (eventual)
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Niou, meet Yagyuu.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for everything.
The clapping, the cheering, the rhythmic chanting for Rikkai, all of it surrounds Niou as he stands on the court, nodding to Sanada as he waits for Yagyuu to follow him. Sanada frowns. Even though the cheerleading squad's rustling pompoms and frantic "GO RIKKAI DAI! GO GO RIKKAI DAI!" drowns everything else out, Niou can hear Sanada, he can see Sanada scowling.
"Take off your weights," he says. "I want you to play at full power." His arms and legs are crossed. He looks as constipated as ever under his hat, but Niou-always Yagyuu!-undoes the Velcros on his weights. Sanada's words are a surprise, but he suppresses the urge to talk back, to demand why. Seigaku are a mess of jumpy players right now: that acrobatic Kikumaru prances onto the court with a cartwheel.
But Yagyuu would follow Sanada's order.
So Niou places the weights down on the ground, not far from Sanada. He watches Sanada over the rim of his glasses as he rises, careful with his posture. His wrists have white bands where the skin hasn't seen the light of day in months, years, ages.
"Niou!" Sanada snaps. "Did you hear what I said?"
Yagyuu, on the other hand, keeps his back turned to Sanada. Niou can see enough. Not only can he see the subtle rise of Yagyuu's round butt under his shorts, but he can also see Yagyuu rolling his eyes. From under his fringe of bleached hair, Yagyuu narrows his eyes and curls his lips. "I'll take them off when I decide to take them off. Don't glare at me like that, Sanada," he says. He spits Sanada's name out as though it tastes of that disgusting apple bubblegum Marui continues to chew in the stands.
As much as Niou knows Sanada wants to slap Yagyuu for his cheek-that, and his hand twitches under his crossed arms-Sanada doesn't press the matter further. He sits back on the bench with a humph as Yagyuu saunters toward the net where Oishi and Kikumaru are waiting to start, waiting to play.
Niou straightens his back even more. He drops his shoulders to ease the tension in his muscles, and then he walks out as tall as he can. The sunlight glares at his lenses. The cicadas hum and the trees rustle, filled with the plaintive coos of pigeons and-in the distance-the caws of two crows, laughing back and forth to each other.
Oishi and Kikumaru will be the fools today, Niou thinks. His lips quirk when he sees Oishi turn to them as they approach the net. His brow is a mess of worried lines and dripping sweat. His racket, dropped in his hand, shakes on his knees, tapping them with staccato nerves.
Niou's nerves are taught, too, but no one needs to see. Niou's lips want to purse and he wants to toy with his rat tail, but instead, he focuses on one easy exhale as he stands, racket held at his side. He bows his head a little. "Let's have a good game, Oishi-kun," he says.
Yagyuu is a perfect slouched, cocky player at Niou's left. His racket is slung over his shoulder, held in his left hand and when he lifts his head up to Kikumaru, he snorts. "Puri."
Kikumaru clicks his tongue. None too quiet, he leans to Oishi and says, "Jeez, that guy is rude."
The game is announced. Seigaku takes their place on the courts and Niou watches from their baseline as Kikumaru side-steps back to his partner. Oishi hesitates on his serve as Kikumaru speaks, some pep talk involving wild gesticulations and victory signs. Niou blinks. He can't roll his eyes now. He's Yagyuu.
Yagyuu would fix his glasses instead.
Niou touches the frames, pushing them down on the one side to straighten them out. His eyes rest for a second, grateful for the shade of his hand before he plants his feet to receive the first serve.
Oishi will be predictable. His volleys will be long and strong, but straightforward. Yanagi didn't have to say it for Niou to be able to see it, written all over Oishi's determined gaze as he nods to Kikumaru and throws the ball up.
First shot, right as Niou expected, long and deep. He runs up for it, hitting it back. Oishi wants a volley, fine, Niou will give him one for now. He wants to see more of Seigaku's tennis before anything slips, before any tricks are pulled out of his sleeves.
At the net, Yagyuu does some strange little butt wiggle, cackling under his breath as Niou's volley zips across the net. He mirrors Kikumaru. Kikumaru dashes left, Yagyuu follows. Kikumaru takes a step back and goes right, Yagyuu does the same thing, his butt wiggling the entire time.
It would be entrancing to watch Yagyuu's wriggling little dance and butt wiggling at any other time, but for now, Niou concentrates on watching Oishi. His eyes are sore from the bright light, magnified by these dumb, dorky glasses and it's hard. Oishi drags his racket back, so fast on the clay court that Niou can see sparks flying. Then, Oishi flings the ball up, arcing it into the sky.
"Moon Volley!" the Seigaku side shouts. A few freshmen in matching uniforms all flap their hands and cheer for Oishi-senpai's special move.
Niou's lips quirk. Special move, eh?
The ball is over Yagyuu's head and barreling straight down towards the baseline. Niou turns, running for the centre with his racket ready. The ball is too close, the sun almost too bright to tell whether it will be in or out, but Oishi's confidence and his poise suggests his aims are firm.
One bounce, right on the white line. Niou sucks in a breath and hits the ball on the rising, leaning down with his racketface open to make the shot before he twists his wrist up. He carries the ball and gives it a slight spin on the return.
He really hit it right on the line! Niou thinks.
At the net, Yagyuu keeps bouncing. He's following Kikumaru so close now that Niou can barely make out his form: Yagyuu's spiky wigs covers Kikumaru's equally flippy red hair. Niou frowns. Oishi hits a wide volley back, again toward the baseline. But he didn't have enough time to move and angle his shot much, so Niou only has to lean to the right. His racket feels odd in his right hand-it always has-but the shot is good. It should be good. He leans down and swings up, grunting on the follow-through.
He doesn't even bother aiming. He knows his body well enough. The shot will be in. The shot will zoom past the net, back for Oishi to keep up this friendly, fake volley going.
The shot will-
Yagyuu moves again, blocking Kikumaru's view as the ball shoots straight toward them. Niou's eyes go wide. He can’t see. He sucks in a breath, his chest tight with shock when Yagyuuu suddenly veers right, even though his body tips the other way and…
The balls smacks Kikumaru right in the middle of his face.
The sick sound of the tennis ball hitting his flesh drowns out any other noises, including Niou's sharp inhale. Niou freezes in the spot as he watches: the glint from Yagyuu's teeth, the way Kikumaru arcs back, falling onto the court with a stunned, wide-eyed look to his face.
Niou breathes carefully. He drops his racket to his side. He can't believe what Yagyuu has done and before he can yell out, You idiot! Yagyuu saunters up to the net, laughing under his breath. Oishi yells out and charges to the net, throwing his racket to the side. "EIJI!"
Kikumaru lies there as Yagyuu sneers, looking down his nose the way he would with his glasses on. His lip curls up.
His voice is cold and his laughter colder. "Too bad, how sad, better luck next time."
And then, to top it off, he twirls his racket around his wrist, the same way Kikumaru would.
"You bastard!" Oishi yells. "You did that on purpose!"
Niou doesn't hear anything more before a rush of people run onto the court, crowding around Kikumaru's body. The frantic sirens of an ambulance approach and Niou turns, seeing the flashing lights through the trees surrounding the courts. He purses his lips tight, hating the glasses on his face right now, hating the way they glare and feel and make him clumsy and make him Yagyuu, the blameless one.
Niou's body shakes with repressed anger and he resists the urge to ball his fist and run up to punch Yagyuu. He would never do that, contrary to the image Yagyuu portrays right now that Niou, the trickster, the one there's no data on must be the one who hits other players.
Niou has played the game long enough to know better. His eyes flash to Sanada, who sits on the bench and glowers at Niou-Yagyuu, whoever he is at the net rolling his eyes with boredom as two medical attendants run onto the court with a stretcher. Anger flushes over his skin and for a moment, Niou finds himself touching the back of his net, ready to rip the sweaty, hot wig off his head and say the trick is up because Yagyuu's fucked things up. If they're disqualified…
His blood curdles.
He doesn't even want to think of that possibility, and yet…
Niou shakes his head. Tucking his racket under his arm, he jogs up to the net, sending Yagyuu a pointed glare before he kneels down with the crowd around Kikumaru. "Is he all right?" he asks. His voice shakes. It loses Yagyuu's polite, clipped and calm tone, but he can't help it.
Oishi grabs Niou by the shoulder and shakes him hard. Niou is limp, his head whipping back and forth as Oishi yells something at him. But the Seigaku coach steps up, steps between them. "It was an accident!" she says. "Oishi!"
Oishi's hand digs into Niou's shoulder, in the soft spot between his collar and back and he winces, hissing at the pain, although it can't be anything compared to Kikumaru's. Or even Oishi's own. The kid cries when the attendants help Kikumaru onto the stretcher. He clings to Kikumaru's hand as they pick the stretcher up to carry him off.
Niou's shoulders slump. He can see the dark shadow of Yagyuu over him, the spiky hair and the rag doll posture a dark stain across the court. Oishi groans through his teeth, through his tears and makes a leap for Yagyuu-
But his coach holds him back a second time.
Niou stands up and turns to Yagyuu. Yagyuu plays with the end of his rat tail, snorting in Kikumaru's direction as the kid is carted off the court. Niou glares, wanting Yagyuu to feel how pissed he is that they'll be disqualified: Kirihara pulls this shit, not them. It was perfect until Yagyuu decided to vent his aggression onto some other player. The first time, yeah, it was funny and a little scary, but it wasn't an official game against Jyousei Shounan.
Niou breathes through his nose, listening to the faint whistling sound it makes. The Seigaku coach and Oishi walk off to speak to a referee and Yagyuu just scuffs his sneaker-Niou's sneaker-and blows at the hair falling over his face.
Niou stands up and looks at him. He cracks his knuckle, making Yagyuu look up. He clears his throat, swallowing the tense anger that hovers between them, thick in the air as the heat. "I hope," he hisses, "you're pleased with yourself, Niou-kun!"
Yagyuu smiles. That dangerous, twisted little smirk on the one side of his face as he whispers "Puri!"
It would be dead sexy, if Niou wasn't afraid of being kicked out of the tournament. It would make him hard and swollen and aching in his shorts if Niou wasn't worried that Sanada will slap them hard enough to leave marks. It would make Niou want to yank that wig off Yagyuu's head and throw himself against Yagyuu's chest, drinking in that cocky arrogant, violent way he sucks Niou in, if-
"We can't lose, O-i-shiii!"
There is a collective gasp from the crowds around the courts. Niou whips his head around as Kikumaru back-flips off the stretcher and then jogs up to Oishi and his coach, brushing off the medical assistants with a laugh. His team erupts in a cheer, all pompoms waving and maniacal grins as Kikumaru grabs his racket and bounces back to the net.
He fixes his head, staring at Niou with huge eyes. In the back of his mind, Niou thinks that Kikumaru probably shouldn't be playing, the way his focus is vague and clouded, although his expression set in a determined line. He narrows his eyes at Yagyuu.
"Be prepared to be punished by Kikumaru-sama's acrobatics!" he announces. He flips his racket from side to side. Then, he points it straight at Yagyuu.
It's corny, but Niou is too relieved to even contemplate snorting. Besides, he's Yagyuu. Yagyuu wouldn't snort. Yagyuu would stand by the net and smile blandly and say "I'm glad it was nothing too serious. Please excuse my partner."
Kikumaru buys it. Yagyuu, however, doesn't. He shrugs his shoulders and wanders off, muttering about "Whatever. The true terror is about to begin…"
I would never say that, Niou thinks. Puri!
Oishi shouts to Yagyuu, telling him to wait right there, but Kikumaru stops him with a hand on the arm. "Hoi, Oishi," he says, smiling of all things, "take a deep breath. Don't fall into their trap."
A jealous twinge pokes Niou in the stomach as he watches, out of the corner of his eye; Kikumaru and Oishi have a pow-wow. They touch arms and shoulders and lean so close they might as well be kissing. His face feels warm and the sun too hot, beating down on his head the way Kikumaru slaps his hand on Oishi's shoulder, telling him not to cry anymore because it's all right and they'll kick Rikkai's asses.
Niou shifts his glance away, remembering that Yagyuu can't see beyond the edge of his glasses lenses. As he walks back to the baseline, relief sinking in that the game will resume, he can't help but hear the distinct sound of Kirihara's chuckling nearby.
A shiver runs down his spine. He looks up as the game is announced a second time. The back of his neck prickles. His arms flush with a cold frisson because Kirihara knows.
How? he thinks.
But it's obvious, to him, to Kirihara, when he sees Yagyuu at the net. Yagyuu, waiting for the next serve from Oishi, with a wiggle to his rounded butt. He bounces on the ball of his foot, a tiny little dance to his body as he leans low and runs for the shot. Yagyuu keeps dancing around, following Kikumaru's movements in mirror play and waving his racket wide to block Kikumaru's view when Niou hits a volley back to Oishi.
"I won't be tricked anymore by you," Kikumaru tells Yagyuu.
Yagyuu side-steps left. His footwork is bad; Niou can see the sloppy form and the way Yagyuu nearly steps on his toes. Nothing compared to Kirihara's, not even as okay as his own. But when Niou flashes a glance to their bleachers, no one seems to be watching Yagyuu's feet.
They're watching Yagyuu cup his ear and cock his head toward Kikumaru. He makes a noise, like a pigeon coo and then he snorts. "Eh?"
Niou frowns. Yagyuu is playing around too much. If he can't read many of Yagyuu's bland faces when he's himself, then reading Yagyuu's little sneers and smirks and flickering racket movements confuses him even more. The ball flies back to the baseline, a nice shot by Oishi and easy enough for Niou to twist his own wrist to give it a bit of spin on the return. He aims low to the net, in the hopes that Kikumaru won't read the ball.
But Yagyuu keeps blocking him. Still. After their first fuck up. Get out of the way! Niou thinks. He wants to shake Yagyuu by the shoulders and move him out of the fucking way!
Yagyuu snakes his head the other way, the ball narrowly zooming by his ear. Kikumaru yelps and his eyes go huge as he dives for the shot. Kikumaru is fast, though. Faster than Niou would have thought when he suddenly bounces off the toe of his sneaker, twists his body around and with two-hands he sends the ball back across the net, transforming a punt into a beam of blinding yellow as he shouts "Kiku-maru BEAM!"
The ball slams into the court right behind Yagyuu's shoulder. Yagyuu spits out a swear and the Seigaku crowds go wild as the point is announced for Seigaku.
Yagyuu sniffs.
Niou purses his lips. Stop playing around, Yagyuu! That was an easy ball!
He should have run for it himself, but it was in Yagyuu's area. If Yagyuu hadn't have been prancing around and wiggling his ass and waving his arms like a starfish, they could have kept the volley going in their own momentum.
The next two serves, Yagyuu continues to side-step around and his feet crunch on the clay court. Niou takes the balls, running up to the mid-court, then back to the baseline because Yagyuu isn't helping. He mutters things under his breath. He tips his head one way, then the next, as if Niou can't see (when Yagyuu gets out of the damn way!) how Kikumaru tilts his racketface in or out depending on the direction he'll run and shoot from. Most players do that. It's simple habit. And here Yagyuu acts like its some deep, dark secret only he can see.
Niou is getting increasingly frustrated and he knows it. He can't express it through his catchphrase because Yagyuu is him right now. He can't slug the balls too hard or with too much teeth bared because he's Yagyuu, not Niou, and Yagyuu prefers light grunting and faster shots. Niou grips his racket as loose as he can, but his nails want to dig into the grip tape and slam the balls into Seigaku's court.
They're down 40-15. Oishi waits for a fresh ball from the sidelines and Niou can't stand it anymore. The tension makes him want to whack Yagyuu over the head and whip the glasses off his nose and give up the trick. Tension squeezes his stomach, and the back of Niou's mouth tastes of bitter bile and anger at Yagyuu for being a twit more so than Seigaku taking the points.
"Quit playing around, Niou-kun!" he snaps. Play seriously, you megane dork! Niou has his elbows on his hips and he does his best to glare over the top of the damn glasses that don't stop their southward slide.
Yagyuu leans on the net, one hand in his pocket and the other, his left, twirling Niou's racket. "Puri," he says. His eyes flash dangerously, all dark and glittering in the sunlight. Yagyuu's barely broken a sweat, too, because Niou can see his forehead when he tosses his head back and shakes his hair.
Niou, on the other hand, has his t-shirt clinging to his back, wet and sticky and stinking. He walks back to the baseline with a frown.
Then he frowns deeper when he hears Sanada grunt something to Yanagi before the serve starts. Sanada blames Niou, he knows. Sanada will blame Niou for letting Seigaku get a head start and waste their time. The clock ticks down-their game, Yukimura's operation and Niou feels the pressure. He feels the heat, too. Waves of it bake the edges of the court, making it hard to see the ball sometimes when his glasses move.
He runs. Yagyuu bounces.
He dashes and swings. Yagyuu swerves and laughs at Kikumaru.
But Kikumaru is the one laughing when he jumps through the air, reaching wide to catch the ball Niou lobbed. "Fuck!" Niou whispers and he runs before he thinks, needing to get to the ball first but Yagyuu moves too, running in his way and eclipsing the light and the ball and-
"Game Seigaku! 1-0!"
Until they switch courts Niou doesn't realize just how hard he's breathing. He can't avoid himself when he purposely walks around the net at the opposite side from where Sanada sits, arms crossed and face pinched up under the dark shadow of his hat brim. Even though Niou taunts others for their habits, he's a creature of the same mould and Sanada pisses him off regardless.
Yagyuu, however, skips past Sanada, chucking his chin in pure mockery. "Niou!" Sanada snaps.
But Yagyuu's head is turned and Sanada can't see when Yagyuu sticks his tongue out, rolling his eyes at whatever muttered threat Sanada gives him. Niou's heard it all a hundred times before: laps, sweeping the courts, backhanded slaps. Sanada never changes either.
It's Niou's serve next. Yagyuu takes a few steps toward the centre of their court, looking up from a lazy pose and scuffed sneakers, but Niou ignores it. He takes the ball from the ichinen who runs out with one-one of Rikkai's first years, some kid with cork-screw curls and heat stroke, given his red face. "I-I'm so envious of you playing, senpai!" he squeaks.
Niou would laugh at the kid.
But, he's Yagyuu. "Aa," he says as his hand closes around the ball. The kid ducks his head. "Thank you," Niou adds. Then he fixes his glasses, cringing inside at how lame lame lame he sounds.
Niou has Yagyuu's serve down pat: bend low until his lower back strains from the tension of his muscles. Snap up and throw the ball, twist his racket as soon as it hits the ball and slam the shot out from his body, pushing his weight into the shot to gain speed. He doesn't have Yagyuu's mass, he knows, but it's close compensation being just a little shorter-it balances out. Yagyuu is longer, leaner and his shoes make Niou flop around a little as he runs to position.
Oishi takes the ball-surprise surprise, Niou thinks-and Yagyuu goes after the return. He's too predictable like that, teeth bared and arm dropped for a poach that Kikumaru calls. Yagyuu swears and groans, changing his play in an instant as he lifts his racket up, following through with blazing eyes and sweat beading on his lip.
Kikumaru uses a two-handed shot. He's controlling the pace now and each ball Yagyuu smashes or slams onto their court loses momentum, it loses accuracy and aim because his arms are too wide, his posture an indeterminate middle between his own and Niou's and he's swearing, too angry to play properly because he's not playing as himself.
The heat is palpable and overbearing. Niou sweats. He should be the one directing their game-Yagyuu, over to that corner, no not THERE Oishi will use a lob!-but he's not himself either. Niou sighs and shakes his head. The sun scorches the court as Yagyuu dances over it, staying too close to the net to do any proper damage to Seigaku's control.
Once, Niou even catches Yagyuu gesturing behind his back. Two fingers, pointing to him but he makes no sense and Niou cringes inside because they haven't used hand signals in ages and then Kikumaru's sharp eyes see Yagyuu and he grins. "Hoi hoi!" he shouts as he jumps up, spins around and slams the ball down, just over Yagyuu's left shoulder.
His blind spot.
The fool acts like he's wearing glasses, turning his head instead of his eyes. For a second, Niou freezes; a feverish flush of anger stains his skin because they'll be discovered before play time is finished.
Seigaku is stronger than they expected. Yanagi brushed them off. Hell, Niou brushed them off. Oishi wasn't supposed to be as precise as he is and this Kikumaru…sometimes his acrobatic twirling is too ridiculous to be believed, and yet other times, he completely catches Yagyuu off guard. The sun doesn't help. The heat turns the court into a mirage: double balls and disappearing volleys.
Niou clenches his jaw. The back of his neck tingles. He can feel that megane data man's eyes watching him. Waiting for that shot.
Their saving grace.
He hasn't used it yet.
They're a game down. But it's too early.
Niou volleys the next shot. Kikumaru takes it, lobbing it high in the air, arcing the ball over Yagyuu's head and making him run around in circles. Maybe Niou's sneakers pinch Yagyuu's toes, the way his steps are forced and minced and his face is curled up in a sneer. "Fuck!" he snaps when the ball hits the court. He catches it on the rebound with the rim of his racket, but it's not good enough. Yagyuu craves a perfect game, not this mess with Seigaku. He can't hide his true feelings-at least, Niou can tell otherwise.
He can see Yagyuu's back shaking in anger. His shoulders twitch. His racket is too stiff, his grip too tight.
So be it, Niou thinks. His own thoughts are taking on Yagyuu's voice. It makes him laugh inside, kukuku.
Oishi runs for the centre-court. Kikumaru is at the right side. The court is open, a straight line through the middle. Niou sucks in a shallow breath. His insides twist, curling and knotting themselves as the tension-and the temperature-rises. The court is awash with grunts and cheers and gasping and clapping and the ball smucking rackets and clay dust and-
Niou straightens his back. He drops his shoulders. He moves his elbow-fast, faster, he has to be quick because Oishi's volley is perfect and he runs up, a long stride almost too far and then he swings back wide and even and whips his arm around. His muscles shudder with the force of impact, the speed and then he looks up, but he's missed it, all except the whipped-up trail and crash as the ball hits the back of the fence.
Still spinning in the chainlink.
Oishi and Kikumaru are frozen in place, statues with dropped jaws, though really, they must have been warned about the laser beam.
Niou's heart slams in his chest, pounding into his ribs as he stands, posing the way Yagyuu does, just long enough to calm his nerves and reassure himself that it worked. He lowers his racket and looks up toward Yagyuu.
A tiny, crooked smirk plays on Yagyuu's lips. He raises an eyebrow, so brief that Niou is the only one who can see it.
Is he proud?
Niou exhales through his nose, silently praying that Yagyuu liked his laser. He's worked on it for months, on and off, and he knows he's not as good-he'll never be as good at it and it aches being aware of that, but…
Please, Yagyuu…he thinks. His throat feels tight and the collar chokes him off, though it's flipped up around his ears. He pushes his glasses up, unable to hold Yagyuu's stare.
Yagyuu makes a noise and turns away from him. He slings his racket over his shoulder and skips around, clicking his tongue, always playing that thin tightrope between their switch and discovery.
It eats Niou up. It makes bile rise in his throat, sting his tongue and seep into his chest. He purses his lips and snaps, "I want you to start playing seriously, Niou-kun!"
He doesn't know if he's Yagyuu or himself. But he does know he's tired of covering for Yagyuu's mistakes and Yagyuu's prancing around and treating this match like nothing. It means everything to Niou: those weeks of agony resulting in friendship renewed and he needs this. His body shakes and he balls his fist, digging into the griptape of Yagyuu's racket to keep himself calm and cool.
Niou lifts his free hand, touching the smooth skin where his wrist weight used to be. The sun glints on his lenses, but a sudden cloud rolls over, casting him into shadow. The cicadas and the crowds are quiet, a long drawn out silence after the laser.
"Play time is over," he whispers.
***
After the first laser, it's easy. Niou lasers himself through one game. Kikumaru and Oishi might be able to see the shot-the blur of yellow through the muggy air-they might be able to predict it-and Oishi does call the shots: "Eiji! Your left! Eiji- right, now!"-but that doesn't mean Seigaku can return the lasers.
Or, Niou's imitation thereof.
Maybe he should be worried that Yagyuu lets him waste the laser like this and gain point after point. One game, no-touch aces, then a second. Maybe he should be worried when all Yagyuu does is chuckle under his breath, that ridiculous kukuku sound that drives Niou batshit and makes him grind his teeth and grunt louder than he needs to when he slams the ball across the court. Maybe he should even be worried when Yagyuu pulls his eye and sticks his tongue out at Kikumaru as they play dance partners at the net, a fast-paced salsa of weaving footwork and flashing taunts, drop shots and lobs.
Maybe he should be, but he's not worried about Yagyuu. The second match is called in their favour and the Rikkai cheerleaders and support team are busy waving swishy pompoms and cheering them on to sweep the game.
Seigaku is sweating hard. Oishi is drenched and his hair plastered to his forehead in three wet strands. Kikumaru gasps and huffs at the net as they huddle and-if Niou's honest with himself-the way Kikumaru puffs and drips sweat reminds him an awful lot of Marui the fatty, only higher-pitched.
And yet, Seigaku are smiling and tapping rackets. Niou watches, frowning slightly. Oishi raises his hand in a fist and exhales loudly. And then Niou gets it. All those lazy balls and half-assed lobs weren't just Seigaku being less than par, Oishi purposely aimed the balls slow and low.
Kikumaru taps his temple and grins. Niou knows it for certain. The bastards played them so that Kikumaru could adjust his eyes to the laser's speed.
Niou shakes inside, wanting to smack that smirk off Kikumaru's face. He clenches his jaw and walks up to Yagyuu, clearing his throat softly to get his attention. Yagyuu turns, giving Niou a lazy stare. "Did you see it?" Yagyuu drawls.
Niou nods.
Yagyuu hums. "Ne Yagyuu?"
Niou raises an eyebrow.
But Yagyuu just shakes his head instead of saying anything. Niou's wig crawls; sweat builds up and slides over his scalp, burning and slow and driving him as mad as Yagyuu's newest smirk. Niou sniffs and goes to the net. His body is covered in a film of sweat and grit from the clay. His toes flop in Yagyuu's sneakers. The collar brushing his earlobes makes him itch to flip it down. His armpits are all sticky and rank as he shakes his arms out and gets ready for the next match.
Yagyuu serves and Kikumaru, cocky with his new-found vision, charges from the centre of his court back up to his own net, across from Niou. Niou backtracks; Oishi's shot opens up the court again for a laser. "Return my shot before you start celebrating!" Niou calls out as Kikumaru jumps and hoi-hois and tempts Niou just a little too much. The ball to his brain might have done something, but then again, maybe not. Niou rocks back on his ankle and his insides curl, anticipation for the ball making him weightless as he aims and poses. Niou throws his weight through his arm and slams the ball, whipping it through the air with a rippling whoosh.
But Kikumaru side-steps, hops and dives for the laser, so fast that Niou doesn't have time to react and Yagyuu doesn't bother. "HOI!" he shouts.
15-0 Seigaku.
Puri! he thinks. He opens his mouth and groans. The glasses slide down his slick nose, the nosepieces all gummy and the lenses getting smudged from constantly fixing them.
Seigaku takes the next game. Yagyuu doesn't seem to be trying and the more lasers Kikumaru returns, the sloppier Niou gets. He jerks on his feet and his elbow is too stiff. The ball shoots up too high, and Oishi returns it with a lob.
"Dammit!" he hisses under his breath. He doesn't care if Yagyuu does or does not swear, he's pissed that the so-called Golden Pair are returning laser after laser that he worked so hard on. Niou runs for the lob, switching to two hands and a flicked drop-shot in the hopes to move the momentum back to their own side.
Yagyuu, you bastard megane come and back me up!
He doesn't have time to check where Yagyuu is, he's too busy racing for Seigaku's returns, which get stronger and stronger now that they've started on some formation. The two of them, back to back with Oishi at the baseline and Kikumaru at the net and Niou can't see around Kikumaru to watch Oishi too because he's blocking him and the glasses are falling down again and he can't fix them and hit balls at the same time. Niou seethes through his teeth, but then Yagyuu runs up on his right side, out of nowhere and his racket's in the air and Kikumaru's moving too and somewhere in the stands he hears Kirihara calling out something about "Ne Yagyuu-senpai?" in that insolent, sing-song voice of his that grates Niou's nerves all the more.
Kikumaru's shot is deep to the middle of their court, straight and strong and Niou runs, his right hand trembling from the all today's effort and he has to make this shot because fuck if Yagyuu's going to even though Yagyuu is closer and-
Then Yagyuu snaps up, his back straightening and his wide stance tightening and his raises his chin, drops his shoulder, all in a split-second and Niou's heart flips over in his chest and his shorts strain too. Unconsciously, he knows that pose, even though it's his eyes that read it.
The ball shoots through Seigaku, ripping through the air without so much as a sound until it skids across the court, bouncing once. Everything reeks of burned rubber. The ball rolls softly into the net.
And Yagyuu is the one posing, with his racket out and his other hand above his head, slicing through Seigaku's formation with the real laser.
So the trick is up.
Niou curls his lips. He itches the edge of the wig, sighing out of the sheer pleasure that scratching his scalp does, making his toes tingle and his back shiver. Even his dick, half-hard without his knowing, twitches.
"As expected," he says. His voice starts as Yagyuu's with perfect clipped pronounciations of everything slurring into his regular tone as Niou adds, "the real laser beam has a completely different power, eh Yaaaagyuu?"
Oh, to roll Yagyuu's name off his tongue like that! Niou slides back into himself, loving the way Yagyuu's name sounds to his ears, loving the way Seigaku is stunned, glassy-eyed and stony-faced when he chucks the wig off and whips the glasses from his grateful nose.
Catch, Sanada! he thinks. Niou shoves his socks down. Yagyuu yanks his half-way up his calves again. Kirihara is the first one to start laughing, all demonic pleasure and flashing teeth that only adds to the floaty, surreal feeling settling in Niou's body and making him lighter than air as he steps up to the net, half-skipping as he says, "Puri!" with a big smile.
The cicadas sing. The crows cackle and the trees shake when a swarm flies up, lost in the glare of the sun's laser beams. If he listens hard enough, Niou can almost hear the faint hum of traffic from the Tokyo streets, all honking scooters and rushing cars, the crowds around their game are that quiet.
He clamps a hand on Yagyuu's shoulder. Yagyuu sniffs, his own bland expressions returning to his face as he wipes the mole off his chin with his thumb. Niou dangles the glasses by the arm.
The Seigaku megane data dork is the first to make a noise, muttering some incomprehensible statistics and numbers under his breath. Niou throws his head back, unable to stop himself from laughing louder. He claps his hands.
Yagyuu makes a noise, too, huffing and stomping off as he grabs the glasses from Niou and puts them on. They aren't his own. Niou knows they’re fake, pointless, but there's some quality the glasses have. Hiding Yagyuu's true feelings. Hiding Yagyuu's dark, almond-shaped eyes…
It's something Niou can't understand fully because he doesn't wear glasses. It's something Niou doesn't want to understand fully. He squints into the sun as the point is called for Rikkai. Kirihara chatters away in the bleachers and Niou takes a pink elastic from his pocket to tie his hair back. Yagyuu has set his wig down near Sanada's bench.
Seeing Sanada sitting there, all crossed limbs and pursed lips and scowls, the same as ever makes Niou roll his eyes. "Can't even crack a smile?" he asks.
Sanada glowers. Phantom memories of too many slaps makes Niou's face twitch. He snorts. I'll push my luck if I wanna push my luck, asshole…
Besides, it wasn't him that refused to remove his wristweights. It wasn't him that allowed Kikumaru to be beamed in the face.
Niou smirks anyway. His wrists still feel naked, but the skin isn't as puckered and pasty as it was when he peeled his weights off earlier. Besides, his racket feels that much lighter and easier to handle back in his own hand. Yagyuu's sweat seeped into the griptape and as much as Niou wants to sniff it to find Yagyuu and breathe him in deep, he'll wait.
Out of the corner of his eye, Seigaku still stands there. Niou shifts his gaze, lingering over them. Kikumaru's shallow breathing and slack-jawed stare make him look all the more gormless. Oishi stares off into his space, his eyes glazed over and sweat dripping down his ridiculous hairfangs.
"Check out the look on their faces," Niou murmurs. Yagyuu stops in his tracks and raises his eyebrows, making a little "Hn?" sound in the back of his throat.
Their switch might not have been perfect, but the effect was. Niou practically hops, skips and jumps back to the net. He twirls his racket around and around in his hand, finally able to mock Kikumaru himself. "Hoi hoi," he says. "Game's back on, Seigaku!"
The buzzing locusts and humming cicadas eat the air up as Seigaku stumbles back to position, shaking their heads. If it was easy to pick up the pace with lasers on his own, with Yagyuu and the true laser, it's so simple that Niou can close his eyes as he swings. The freedom without the wristweights and his left hand make his own imitation laser better than his right handed version. Ball after ball slams into the Seigaku court: Yagyuu's, then his, then Yagyuu's again. Niou bounces at the net, wiggling his ass the way Yagyuu did before just because he can.
Three games, four games, five-they come one after the other, the time ticking and whirling as the heat gets deeper, thicker, seeping into Niou's body and making him flush from the feverish haze of Tokyo summers. His socks are soaked in Yagyuu's sneakers, all itchy and rank, and he wants to end the game as soon as possible.
But for the moment, Niou dances.
Yagyuu shoots another laser down the middle of the opposite court. Kikumaru scrambles left and Oishi trips right, but neither of them makes the return. Niou shivers, smirking and loving the full feeling of impending victory. Seigaku are more work than any other team-so far, since they didn't once play Hyoutei this year-but for all their buildup and rumours about this being their year on the circuit, Niou scoffs and rolls his eyes.
And to make it worse for Seigaku's Golden Pair, their teammates start to fight in the stands. Fisticuffs and swearing as Kaidoh and Momoshiro launch at each other, teeth bared and lips curled and Niou just throws his head back and laughs.
He and Yagyuu switch spots, Yagyuu walking by him with that tall, confident air that makes Niou's knees shake just a little. His heart slams against his ribs-and not just from the excursion of playing under a beating sun. Niou swallows. He runs a hand through his damp hair, trying to distract himself for a moment before he gets harder from eyeing Yagyuu's upturned chin and the sweat dripping down his flushed face…
Would he flush like that when he comes, all pink cheeks and beads of sweat and disheveled hair with the little breathy grunt…
Niou shakes his head and exhales.
"Come on Niou-kun, let's close the curtain on this game," Yagyuu says. His voice is all smooth and velvet and wrapping around Niou's swollen cock.
The wind lifts and the insects break up their chorus. A bird flutters in the trees around the court and the spectators, mostly the little group of cross-armed, snorting Hyoutei players at the far end whisper more; they whisper differently. That irritating Jiroh has bounced off and when Niou turns to the Rikkai bleachers, he doesn't see Jiroh flapping around Marui there either. Not that Niou cares. Fanboys, beh! Niou thinks. That fatass can keep them all.
But the atmosphere is different. The heat hangs lower and heavier when the wind dies. A permeating cloud of dust and smog remains, and that distinctive Tokyo smell of melting flowers and trees and traffic exhaust and dust from the courts and the sweat of hundreds, too.
Yagyuu blinks and pauses. Niou looks at him, raising his head in a slow nod. You feel it, too, Yagyuu…
Yagyuu has this last serve. He'll bring it home and then they can collapse onto the bench behind Sanada and wait for Yanagi to finish up the games before lunchtime. Seigaku don't have anything funny up their sleeves-they're too transparent, too honest and they've cut the lame formations out, opting for the usual Oishi-at-right-baseline-and-Kikumaru-at-left-side-of-the-net.
"We came here to win!" they shout.
"That's nice," Niou mutters.
Yagyuu's serve zooms past Niou's side. Kikumaru and Oishi both move, Oishi going for the kill with a low shot. Too easy. Too obvious. Niou can see the spin on the ball Oishi returns, so he drops his arm, leans down and slams the ball with a forehand shot. You're too naïve. Those simple shots don't-
"Out!"
Niou's eyes snap wide open. What the…
He looks down the Seigaku court, his eyes trailing the path of his ball. Why wasn't it in? It should have been just behind Oishi's back? I didn't even need to aim they're so easy to return.
But the ball's imprint is there, unmistakable, a good foot behind the baseline.
Kikumaru's at the baseline now, having run there after Oishi made the play and instead Oishi is standing opposite Niou, grim determination in his round cow eyes. Yagyuu serves again. Niou sets up the play, allowing himself to take the side balls to give Yagyuu's laser a better chance. Kikumaru volleys, the shot is perfect and Niou's stomach tightens, his eyes eager to see that flash of yellow beam across the court.
But Yagyuu lobs instead.
What the hell?!?
Niou grinds his teeth, baring them and seething as he backhands Oishi's return. Kikumaru jumps for the ball, his annoying "HOI!" making Niou's eye twitch and again, he side-steps, giving Yagyuu the opportunity. Yagyuu grunts and yells something unintelligible, almost like an "Adieu!" but his voice is strained and tight and again, the ball arcs over head in a lob.
Oishi takes the ball.
Oishi takes the next point, too. 30-0.
Every ball seems to be arcing, curving, shooting back towards Oishi and in a flash, Niou remembers that Tezuka's zone, all those balls attracted to his racket, to his arm from some unusual spin and particular shots. But Oishi isn't that callibre of player. Oishi drips sweat and resolve, but his footwork is shit and even though he takes the next game, and a second, Seigaku 4-6, he's not all there yet.
Niou sucks in a breath and purses his lips. His hair is drenched. He pulls at the hem of his shirt to fan his stomach off. Even Yagyuu, poised and perfect, hangs his head and wipes sweat from his brow with his t-shirt. Niou can't help staring-just a little-because that sliver of Yagyuu's stomach, all pale and hard and soft looking makes Niou's insides curl up and slither down between his legs. His throat feels tight. He wants more than what they have now. He wants to run his fingers along the lines of Yagyuu's hips and touch his bellybutton and listen to Yagyuu makes those grunts he does in tennis, only in the sea of those musty, messy sheets of his that Niou could drown in…
"Niou-kun!" Yagyuu calls. His voice is too distinctively sharp to be a simple game play.
Niou sniffs. Oishi's at the net. He'll play net too. Despite all Yagyuu's lobbing and Oishi's control of the ball…Yagyuu hasn't used the laser in a few games. And Niou feels that little tingle, that prickle of knowledge at the back of his neck that makes his hair stand up there because Yagyuu's going to do something. Yagyuu's setting something up.
Excellent.
Serve. Return. Volley. Niou flails his arms and legs as wide as he can, prancing around like a circus idiot, all leering grin and dangling limbs as he taunts Oishi, messing with his head and making Oishi frown when Niou makes silly noices too, all "Hyou hyou!"s and that stupid little laugh that Yagyuu thinks he makes.
Oishi plants his feet and punts. Niou stretches wider, twisting his racket up to lob a return. The ball is too easy, but it'll give Yagyuu a chance to set a laser up if he's quick enough.
Kikumaru is quick too. He runs and shouts, "Don't Oishi! It's a decoy!" Oishi stiffens and whips his head around, missing the ball he could have returned, so Kikumaru dives down for it instead.
It doesn't matter what Kikumaru hits, though. Yagyuu's good. Yagyuu's fast and waves of desire already wash over Niou with a tight ache in his cock as he hears Yagyuu running, his sneakers scuffing the baseline because he's yelling "You haven't touched my laser yet!" to Seigaku and Niou knows him well enough now that he doesn't have to be able to see Yagyuu's posing, he knows as soon as those words sound, loud and clear:
"Adieu!"
Niou gasps.
Oishi and Kikumaru gasp.
Niou watches Kikumaru shake the shock and run for the laser anyway. He's too slow to catch it sooner, but he swings wide-probably hoping to punt it with the edge of his racket. But he has some other dumb play and Niou can only shake his head when Kikumaru's racket arcs wide around his body, almost like a snake shot, as he shouts some stupid "Kikumaru Bazooka!" Niou clicks his tongue and drags his racket down to use a rising shot.
Point Rikkai.
"Damn it!" Kikumaru hisses.
Oishi pats his partner on the shoulder. "Don't mind Eiji. We'll get it next time."
There won't be a next time, Niou thinks. The point is called in their favour. Only three more to go and the game is theirs.
Yagyuu lasers, 30-0.
Niou lobs, making sure to aim for that unforgiving beam of sunlight that blinds Seigaku-and himself. 40-0.
Seigaku puts up a fight on the match point. Oishi huffs and puffs and strains through a volley match with Yagyuu. Kikumaru backs him up, trying to copy their game with a decoy, but Yagyuu's not stupid. All he has to do is push his glasses up, curl his lip, rock back and stiffen his back and-
WHOOSH!
The sight of the last laser makes Niou's heart swell and catch in his throat. For a long moment, in that pregnant pause between the slam of the ball skidding across the Seigaku court in a yellow streak and the official's announcement, Niou can't breathe. He looks back to Yagyuu, his eyes thick and heavy and stinging when Yagyuu looks at him, soft around the eyes as his face breaks into a smile. A real smile that reaches his eyes, crinkling the edges and making his glasses fall down and if Niou was stronger, he'd run up to Yagyuu and hug, shake him so hard that Yagyuu would want to be with him too.
The way Niou wants to be with him.
But he doesn't.
They shake hands at the net with Seigaku. "You play a good game, Seigaku," Yagyuu tells them. Niou grunts. His eyes hover on Yagyuu's hand, shaking Oishi's, and then Kikumaru's with a sweaty, sure grip that Niou resents.
Until he and Yagyuu walk back to their bench. Something brushes the back of his hand, making him stiffen. Niou looks down, his eyes almost unable to believe the lingering touch of Yagyuu's fingertips as Yagyuu moves slowly to put his racket away. "Good game," he whispers.
Niou's hand burns. Frisson runs down his spine as Yagyuu's words echo in his ears, over and over, like a lover's kiss. Niou drops his racket onto the bench. He can't breathe at all.