Happy spring, muzivitch!
Title: Pique
Recipient's name: muzivitch
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Kenya/Zaizen
Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Notes: Very minor spoilers for the Shitenhouji team, but this is set before Nationals and as such, has no spoilers for any of the Shitenhouji matches.
It's going to be a bad day. Zaizen's sure of it the moment he wakes up. It's not like all of Zaizen's days are so great anyway, but this one's going to be worse than usual. Zaizen knows. He can tell.
There's a reason, after all, that people call him the tensai of Shitenhouji, and only a small amount of it is the fact that he's the team's only sane member. That's not much of an accomplishment, anyway, on a team that includes a miniature Tarzan, a guy who sparkles like a Christmas ornament on the courts and a doubles pair that outgay even Hard Gay himself.
Zaizen's not Koharu. His mind doesn't operate in numbers and data and stalking. He's still a lot better at predictions than that idiot will ever be. Zaizen doesn't need to say that there's an 85% probability that something will happen, he just knows it will or won't. He knows how to look at things, read them, make predictions and adapt.
And what Zaizen knows right now in the very pit of his stomach is that it's going to be a very bad day.
On his way out of the room, he trips over his sister's cat. The cat makes its displeasure known by yowling at the top of its lungs and taking an extremely painful swipe at Zaizen's ankle. Zaizen makes his displeasure known by saying something extremely obscene about cats and the world at large.
"What did you just say, young man?" Zaizen's mother shrieks, apparently gifted with the magical ability to hear anything through walls and closed doors--even in the downstairs kitchen.
Yep, Zaizen thinks as he studies his bleeding ankle, definitely going to suck.
***
Classes are bad. Zaizen's ten minutes late to his first one. Then it turns out the second-year English teacher has the flu, so they get the third-years' teacher as substitute instead--and she promptly launches them all into a rapt discussion of the English subjunctive and how it relates to the subjunctive as used in Spanish and French and Latin.
If Zaizen knew Spanish or French or Latin, this would be useful. Since he doesn't, it's not.
In math class, his pencil breaks in two.
In history, Zaizen realizes he's left his essay at home.
"You measure stuff out," Zaizen tells his chemistry lab partner, "I'll mix it together and do the writeup."
He's good at science, after all, Zaizen thinks. He can do this. If anything goes right today, this will be it. If it doesn't go right, then the classroom will blow up--but at least then he'll be out of his misery, which is also something to potentially look forward to.
Five seconds later, his lab partner taps him on the shoulder.
"Yes?" Zaizen asks impatiently.
"So this says that we need to measure out a quarter of a liter of water," the other boy says.
"Yes, and?" Zaizen asks, glancing at the lab sheet and then at his partner. There's a measuring cup on the lab bench, along with several graduated cylinders; Zaizen's not sure what the problem is.
"Er," says the other boy, "How many milliliters are in a liter, again?"
It's been a less than pleasant day. Zaizen's been pushed far beyond the limits of human endurance several times over, so he thinks it's perfectly understandable that he might snap, "Have you always been this special or did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby or something?"
Unfortunately, his lab partner doesn't seem to be the understanding type.
The good news is that Zaizen has fast reflexes and is used to getting out of the way of a punch quickly when people object to hearing him point out the stunningly obvious. The chemistry glassware, unfortunately, is not so good at getting out of the way and they both end up with lunch detention--which, in turn, means that Zaizen spends his entire afternoon hungry and annoyed.
***
Afternoon practice is worse. Kintarou shrieks hysterically about anything and everything that can be shrieked about, Osamu is fifteen minutes late and when Zaizen walks into the clubhouse, he's bowled over by an unexpectedly heavy weight shrieking, "Zaizen-kun, you're so cuuuuuuute! You should smile more often! ♥ ♥"
"Senpai," Zaizen says as clearly as anyone can with a very heavy teenage boy sitting on their chest, "you're too fat. Get off."
"Get you off?" Koharu leers.
Zaizen can feel a headache beginning to throb to life. "That's disgusting, senpai. Now get off me."
Of course Koharu doesn't listen.
"But Zaizen-kuuuuun! You can't deny how C-U-T-E you are~~ ♥ ♥" Koharu shrieks, leaning even closer to Zaizen and dramatically increasing his volume. Before Shitenhouji, Zaizen'd never even known it was possible for anyone to speak with hearts in their voice, much less a fifteen year old teenage boy. Zaizen is only now beginning to realize just how happy he would be without ever having learned this fact.
"Koharu, are you cheating on me?" Yuuji shrills, less than a half-step behind Koharu, "I'll kill you, isn't that adultery?"
"But he's so cute, Yuu-kun! ♥" protests Koharu, "Can we keep him? Can we?"
"But what about me?" Yuuji wails, his voice going into an even higher register, "Isn't my love enough for you anymore?"
Shit, Zaizen thinks as he stares up at the clubhouse ceiling, I knew I should have joined the soccer club.
***
As Zaizen points out on a fairly regular basis to Kenya, Gin, and the rest of the world at large--he had come to the conclusion that Shitenhouji was insane roughly ten minutes after making it as a Regular at the beginning of second year.
This is a lie.
Zaizen had come to the conclusion that Shitenhouji was insane roughly five minutes after he walked in the front door of the school on his first day of classes as a freshman. Zaizen had come to the conclusion that Shitenhouji was fucking out of its mind roughly ten minutes after making it as a Regular at the beginning of second year.
It's possible this may have had something to do with the fact that seven minutes after Shiraishi announced the new team roster, Koharu tried to grab Zaizen's ass and then Hitouji started yelling something about adultery.
Possible. And even quite probable.
It takes seven whole minutes for Shiraishi to rescue Zaizen from the Idiot Pair's clutches this time. "Be a little more careful, Zaizen-kun," Shiraishi offers helpfully, because it's not like this is blindingly obvious. "They're getting sneakier these days, I wouldn't want you to catch anything."
It's like Shiraishi thinks this is funny or something.
"Buchou," Zaizen says.
Then Shiraishi announces the practice matches for the day and Zaizen really does feel his headache flaring to life.
***
With Osaka just finished and Nationals about to begin, Shiraishi and Osamu have been neurotically shuffling lineups back and forth. It's never bothered Zaizen that much--he's an adaptable player, after all. He's good at singles, good at doubles, good at tennis and both Gin and Kenya are good doubles partners.
Today Osamu and Shiraishi ask him to play doubles with Kintarou.
It doesn't even make sense. Kintarou is a singles player through and through. Kintarou doesn't even seem to be aware that doubles and singles have different rules. Then again, one thing Zaizen's rapidly starting to learn is that a lot of things in Shitenhouji don't really make sense.
"Try a formation, Zaizen-kun," Shiraishi suggests helpfully from the sidelines. Osamu seems to be asleep.
Gin and Kenya stare at Shiraishi from their side of the net. So does Zaizen. Kintarou stares as well, but most likely in awe of Shiraishi's freshly bandaged hands, not awe of Shiraishi's mindnumbing stupidity--which is probably the reason for Gin and Kenya's slightly poleaxed expressions.
Zaizen knows it's certainly the reason for his.
"We'll do the Australian formation," he tells Kintarou, trying not to let his teeth grind together too loudly, "You play baseline, I'll take net."
"Okay!" Kintarou chirps. His eyes are bright just like a pigeon's and they have just as much brain power behind them as he spins round to point a finger menacingly at Gin and Kenya. "We'll crush you with my brand new Super Great Mountain Fire Doubles Technique, so you better be scared!"
Gin looks like he's trying not to laugh. Kenya doesn't even bother to try hiding it.
"I'll take net," Zaizen repeats with supernatural patience. "You serve."
"Okay!" Kintarou says and dashes to the back of the court.
Zaizen gets in position. So do Kenya and Gin.
"Ready?" shouts Kintarou from behind Zaizen, obviously getting himself psyched up and ready for the beginning of the match even as Kenya and Gin smirk. "Here - we - GO!"
Kintarou serves the ball, all right. Right into the back of Zaizen's head.
THWOK goes the ball. If Zaizen were capable of any thought in that moment other than blinding pain, he would say something. As it is, the first thing that he's able to see when his vision clears is Kintarou's upside down head.
"Oops," Kintarou says, looking sheepish, "Maybe I shouldn't have served down the center."
Zaizen wants to strangle him.
Worst. Day. Ever.
***
By the time practice is over, Zaizen can't wait to get home. He doesn't even bother showering after Shiraishi dismisses practice, just makes a beeline straight for the bus stop. If he were prone to migraines, he would have a raging one now. As it is, what he has is a mild headache, what's possibly a mild concussion and a raging desire to murder the entire world.
He barely notices at first when Kenya gets on the same bus and takes the seat beside him.
"Hey," Kenya says, nodding at Zaizen, "you okay?"
"Senpai," Zaizen says, and looks away. He's not even anywhere close to a mood for polite conversation. "Fine."
"Shiraishi says Kintarou sucks at doubles," Kenya offers. Zaizen doesn't even have to look sideways to know that Kenya's grinning like this is the funniest thing ever. Kenya probably thinks it is. "So we probably won't be using that line up again, for what it's worth."
"I never would have guessed," Zaizen mutters.
They fall into an awkward silence. Kenya's cell phone rings and Zaizen eavesdrops absently on Kenya's short argument about the merits and flaws of the Titanic, of all things. Then Kenya clicks the phone off and the silence stretches out between them again; Zaizen stares out the window.
"So," Kenya says conversationally, "you know Chitose's a complete idiot?"
Zaizen would have thought that was perfectly obvious, but he manages through superior force of willpower not to roll his eyes. "Yeah, and?"
"Osamu told him that a triangle has two hundred degrees, and he was dumb enough to believe Osamu on the last math test, so now he's got to retake the whole thing because he completely flunked it. Shiraishi and I told him not to listen to Osamu, but you know how Chitose is. All that damn weed in Kyuushuu. It pickled his brains or something." Kenya snorts.
"Huh," Zaizen says.
"You'll have to deal with Osamu when you make captain," Kenya says, eyeing Zaizen beadily. "So I'm telling you now, don't listen to a word that comes out of that idiot's mouth."
"I'll be sure to keep it in mind, senpai."
The bus goes another two blocks before Kenya asks abruptly, "You sure you're okay?"
And that's pretty much it, because as much as Zaizen usually gets along with Kenya, he's not at all in the mood for playing the obedient kouhai today and going along with all of this ridiculousness. He's going to regret this tomorrow, Zaizen knows, but right now--right now, the only thing he really wants is for Kenya to shut the hell up and stop patronizing him with all this ridiculous small talk and if it takes getting punched to make this stop, then Zaizen's perfectly fine with that because this is ridiculous.
"Senpai," he says as flatly as he can, "today sucks and I just got hit in the head with a tennis ball, but yes, I'm fine. You can stop pretending you like me just because we played doubles together sometimes."
There's yet another long and awkward silence. There are a lot of cars in the street; Zaizen watches the bus inch past a blue one, then a red.
Then Kenya says, "Wow, sometimes you're really stupid for a tensai."
"Uh, what?" Zaizen asks, whipping his head around to glare because what? He doesn't see where Kenya gets off calling him stupid. "Excuse me, I seem to have missed the day you changed your name to the Mind Star of Naniwa."
"You're an idiot," Kenya says, raising his voice over Zaizen's. "Just because we play doubles sometimes doesn't mean I like you."
"Whatever," Zaizen says and slumps back in his seat. He doesn't even know why that stings so much--there's no reason for it to, it's not even like they're in the same year or have anything in common besides tennis and a bunch of official doubles wins together--but of course it figures. Of course.
Today sucks so much it isn't even funny.
"Maybe I just like you," Kenya says quietly.
And suddenly Zaizen's chest feels really weird. Not a bad kind of weird, though, just strange, and he can't think. Maybe this is because of the concussion from Kintarou's tennis ball. Or maybe it's something else. It's too late now to pretend he doesn't understand what Kenya's talking about and say something smart-assed. Zaizen hadn't been expecting this when he'd gotten out of bed this morning and now he doesn't know what to do or say.
They stare awkwardly at each other. Kenya's face is red and Zaizen's sure his own face is just as bad. The bus isn't moving. This is the most awkward situation Zaizen's been in since the time he accidentally walked in on Osamu making out with his girlfriend in the middle of the clubhouse.
Then Kenya rakes bangs out of his eyes and looks away and Zaizen thinks--
"Senpai," Zaizen begins, and then says it again, "Senpai. I don't like you because of doubles either." And it's coming out all wrong, Zaizen knows, but he's tired and hungry and concussed and it's been one of the longest days of his life.
"Oh," Kenya says awkwardly. "Um, okay."
"Um," Zaizen says. "Yeah, so."
And then Kenya grins suddenly, bright and luminous as the sun. "Cool," he says, smirking at Zaizen and Zaizen can't look away nor stop himself from grinning back because suddenly it is cool, all of it and everything.
In the end, it turns out to be a pretty good day after all.
Recipient's name: muzivitch
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Kenya/Zaizen
Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Notes: Very minor spoilers for the Shitenhouji team, but this is set before Nationals and as such, has no spoilers for any of the Shitenhouji matches.
It's going to be a bad day. Zaizen's sure of it the moment he wakes up. It's not like all of Zaizen's days are so great anyway, but this one's going to be worse than usual. Zaizen knows. He can tell.
There's a reason, after all, that people call him the tensai of Shitenhouji, and only a small amount of it is the fact that he's the team's only sane member. That's not much of an accomplishment, anyway, on a team that includes a miniature Tarzan, a guy who sparkles like a Christmas ornament on the courts and a doubles pair that outgay even Hard Gay himself.
Zaizen's not Koharu. His mind doesn't operate in numbers and data and stalking. He's still a lot better at predictions than that idiot will ever be. Zaizen doesn't need to say that there's an 85% probability that something will happen, he just knows it will or won't. He knows how to look at things, read them, make predictions and adapt.
And what Zaizen knows right now in the very pit of his stomach is that it's going to be a very bad day.
On his way out of the room, he trips over his sister's cat. The cat makes its displeasure known by yowling at the top of its lungs and taking an extremely painful swipe at Zaizen's ankle. Zaizen makes his displeasure known by saying something extremely obscene about cats and the world at large.
"What did you just say, young man?" Zaizen's mother shrieks, apparently gifted with the magical ability to hear anything through walls and closed doors--even in the downstairs kitchen.
Yep, Zaizen thinks as he studies his bleeding ankle, definitely going to suck.
***
Classes are bad. Zaizen's ten minutes late to his first one. Then it turns out the second-year English teacher has the flu, so they get the third-years' teacher as substitute instead--and she promptly launches them all into a rapt discussion of the English subjunctive and how it relates to the subjunctive as used in Spanish and French and Latin.
If Zaizen knew Spanish or French or Latin, this would be useful. Since he doesn't, it's not.
In math class, his pencil breaks in two.
In history, Zaizen realizes he's left his essay at home.
"You measure stuff out," Zaizen tells his chemistry lab partner, "I'll mix it together and do the writeup."
He's good at science, after all, Zaizen thinks. He can do this. If anything goes right today, this will be it. If it doesn't go right, then the classroom will blow up--but at least then he'll be out of his misery, which is also something to potentially look forward to.
Five seconds later, his lab partner taps him on the shoulder.
"Yes?" Zaizen asks impatiently.
"So this says that we need to measure out a quarter of a liter of water," the other boy says.
"Yes, and?" Zaizen asks, glancing at the lab sheet and then at his partner. There's a measuring cup on the lab bench, along with several graduated cylinders; Zaizen's not sure what the problem is.
"Er," says the other boy, "How many milliliters are in a liter, again?"
It's been a less than pleasant day. Zaizen's been pushed far beyond the limits of human endurance several times over, so he thinks it's perfectly understandable that he might snap, "Have you always been this special or did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby or something?"
Unfortunately, his lab partner doesn't seem to be the understanding type.
The good news is that Zaizen has fast reflexes and is used to getting out of the way of a punch quickly when people object to hearing him point out the stunningly obvious. The chemistry glassware, unfortunately, is not so good at getting out of the way and they both end up with lunch detention--which, in turn, means that Zaizen spends his entire afternoon hungry and annoyed.
***
Afternoon practice is worse. Kintarou shrieks hysterically about anything and everything that can be shrieked about, Osamu is fifteen minutes late and when Zaizen walks into the clubhouse, he's bowled over by an unexpectedly heavy weight shrieking, "Zaizen-kun, you're so cuuuuuuute! You should smile more often! ♥ ♥"
"Senpai," Zaizen says as clearly as anyone can with a very heavy teenage boy sitting on their chest, "you're too fat. Get off."
"Get you off?" Koharu leers.
Zaizen can feel a headache beginning to throb to life. "That's disgusting, senpai. Now get off me."
Of course Koharu doesn't listen.
"But Zaizen-kuuuuun! You can't deny how C-U-T-E you are~~ ♥ ♥" Koharu shrieks, leaning even closer to Zaizen and dramatically increasing his volume. Before Shitenhouji, Zaizen'd never even known it was possible for anyone to speak with hearts in their voice, much less a fifteen year old teenage boy. Zaizen is only now beginning to realize just how happy he would be without ever having learned this fact.
"Koharu, are you cheating on me?" Yuuji shrills, less than a half-step behind Koharu, "I'll kill you, isn't that adultery?"
"But he's so cute, Yuu-kun! ♥" protests Koharu, "Can we keep him? Can we?"
"But what about me?" Yuuji wails, his voice going into an even higher register, "Isn't my love enough for you anymore?"
Shit, Zaizen thinks as he stares up at the clubhouse ceiling, I knew I should have joined the soccer club.
***
As Zaizen points out on a fairly regular basis to Kenya, Gin, and the rest of the world at large--he had come to the conclusion that Shitenhouji was insane roughly ten minutes after making it as a Regular at the beginning of second year.
This is a lie.
Zaizen had come to the conclusion that Shitenhouji was insane roughly five minutes after he walked in the front door of the school on his first day of classes as a freshman. Zaizen had come to the conclusion that Shitenhouji was fucking out of its mind roughly ten minutes after making it as a Regular at the beginning of second year.
It's possible this may have had something to do with the fact that seven minutes after Shiraishi announced the new team roster, Koharu tried to grab Zaizen's ass and then Hitouji started yelling something about adultery.
Possible. And even quite probable.
It takes seven whole minutes for Shiraishi to rescue Zaizen from the Idiot Pair's clutches this time. "Be a little more careful, Zaizen-kun," Shiraishi offers helpfully, because it's not like this is blindingly obvious. "They're getting sneakier these days, I wouldn't want you to catch anything."
It's like Shiraishi thinks this is funny or something.
"Buchou," Zaizen says.
Then Shiraishi announces the practice matches for the day and Zaizen really does feel his headache flaring to life.
***
With Osaka just finished and Nationals about to begin, Shiraishi and Osamu have been neurotically shuffling lineups back and forth. It's never bothered Zaizen that much--he's an adaptable player, after all. He's good at singles, good at doubles, good at tennis and both Gin and Kenya are good doubles partners.
Today Osamu and Shiraishi ask him to play doubles with Kintarou.
It doesn't even make sense. Kintarou is a singles player through and through. Kintarou doesn't even seem to be aware that doubles and singles have different rules. Then again, one thing Zaizen's rapidly starting to learn is that a lot of things in Shitenhouji don't really make sense.
"Try a formation, Zaizen-kun," Shiraishi suggests helpfully from the sidelines. Osamu seems to be asleep.
Gin and Kenya stare at Shiraishi from their side of the net. So does Zaizen. Kintarou stares as well, but most likely in awe of Shiraishi's freshly bandaged hands, not awe of Shiraishi's mindnumbing stupidity--which is probably the reason for Gin and Kenya's slightly poleaxed expressions.
Zaizen knows it's certainly the reason for his.
"We'll do the Australian formation," he tells Kintarou, trying not to let his teeth grind together too loudly, "You play baseline, I'll take net."
"Okay!" Kintarou chirps. His eyes are bright just like a pigeon's and they have just as much brain power behind them as he spins round to point a finger menacingly at Gin and Kenya. "We'll crush you with my brand new Super Great Mountain Fire Doubles Technique, so you better be scared!"
Gin looks like he's trying not to laugh. Kenya doesn't even bother to try hiding it.
"I'll take net," Zaizen repeats with supernatural patience. "You serve."
"Okay!" Kintarou says and dashes to the back of the court.
Zaizen gets in position. So do Kenya and Gin.
"Ready?" shouts Kintarou from behind Zaizen, obviously getting himself psyched up and ready for the beginning of the match even as Kenya and Gin smirk. "Here - we - GO!"
Kintarou serves the ball, all right. Right into the back of Zaizen's head.
THWOK goes the ball. If Zaizen were capable of any thought in that moment other than blinding pain, he would say something. As it is, the first thing that he's able to see when his vision clears is Kintarou's upside down head.
"Oops," Kintarou says, looking sheepish, "Maybe I shouldn't have served down the center."
Zaizen wants to strangle him.
Worst. Day. Ever.
***
By the time practice is over, Zaizen can't wait to get home. He doesn't even bother showering after Shiraishi dismisses practice, just makes a beeline straight for the bus stop. If he were prone to migraines, he would have a raging one now. As it is, what he has is a mild headache, what's possibly a mild concussion and a raging desire to murder the entire world.
He barely notices at first when Kenya gets on the same bus and takes the seat beside him.
"Hey," Kenya says, nodding at Zaizen, "you okay?"
"Senpai," Zaizen says, and looks away. He's not even anywhere close to a mood for polite conversation. "Fine."
"Shiraishi says Kintarou sucks at doubles," Kenya offers. Zaizen doesn't even have to look sideways to know that Kenya's grinning like this is the funniest thing ever. Kenya probably thinks it is. "So we probably won't be using that line up again, for what it's worth."
"I never would have guessed," Zaizen mutters.
They fall into an awkward silence. Kenya's cell phone rings and Zaizen eavesdrops absently on Kenya's short argument about the merits and flaws of the Titanic, of all things. Then Kenya clicks the phone off and the silence stretches out between them again; Zaizen stares out the window.
"So," Kenya says conversationally, "you know Chitose's a complete idiot?"
Zaizen would have thought that was perfectly obvious, but he manages through superior force of willpower not to roll his eyes. "Yeah, and?"
"Osamu told him that a triangle has two hundred degrees, and he was dumb enough to believe Osamu on the last math test, so now he's got to retake the whole thing because he completely flunked it. Shiraishi and I told him not to listen to Osamu, but you know how Chitose is. All that damn weed in Kyuushuu. It pickled his brains or something." Kenya snorts.
"Huh," Zaizen says.
"You'll have to deal with Osamu when you make captain," Kenya says, eyeing Zaizen beadily. "So I'm telling you now, don't listen to a word that comes out of that idiot's mouth."
"I'll be sure to keep it in mind, senpai."
The bus goes another two blocks before Kenya asks abruptly, "You sure you're okay?"
And that's pretty much it, because as much as Zaizen usually gets along with Kenya, he's not at all in the mood for playing the obedient kouhai today and going along with all of this ridiculousness. He's going to regret this tomorrow, Zaizen knows, but right now--right now, the only thing he really wants is for Kenya to shut the hell up and stop patronizing him with all this ridiculous small talk and if it takes getting punched to make this stop, then Zaizen's perfectly fine with that because this is ridiculous.
"Senpai," he says as flatly as he can, "today sucks and I just got hit in the head with a tennis ball, but yes, I'm fine. You can stop pretending you like me just because we played doubles together sometimes."
There's yet another long and awkward silence. There are a lot of cars in the street; Zaizen watches the bus inch past a blue one, then a red.
Then Kenya says, "Wow, sometimes you're really stupid for a tensai."
"Uh, what?" Zaizen asks, whipping his head around to glare because what? He doesn't see where Kenya gets off calling him stupid. "Excuse me, I seem to have missed the day you changed your name to the Mind Star of Naniwa."
"You're an idiot," Kenya says, raising his voice over Zaizen's. "Just because we play doubles sometimes doesn't mean I like you."
"Whatever," Zaizen says and slumps back in his seat. He doesn't even know why that stings so much--there's no reason for it to, it's not even like they're in the same year or have anything in common besides tennis and a bunch of official doubles wins together--but of course it figures. Of course.
Today sucks so much it isn't even funny.
"Maybe I just like you," Kenya says quietly.
And suddenly Zaizen's chest feels really weird. Not a bad kind of weird, though, just strange, and he can't think. Maybe this is because of the concussion from Kintarou's tennis ball. Or maybe it's something else. It's too late now to pretend he doesn't understand what Kenya's talking about and say something smart-assed. Zaizen hadn't been expecting this when he'd gotten out of bed this morning and now he doesn't know what to do or say.
They stare awkwardly at each other. Kenya's face is red and Zaizen's sure his own face is just as bad. The bus isn't moving. This is the most awkward situation Zaizen's been in since the time he accidentally walked in on Osamu making out with his girlfriend in the middle of the clubhouse.
Then Kenya rakes bangs out of his eyes and looks away and Zaizen thinks--
"Senpai," Zaizen begins, and then says it again, "Senpai. I don't like you because of doubles either." And it's coming out all wrong, Zaizen knows, but he's tired and hungry and concussed and it's been one of the longest days of his life.
"Oh," Kenya says awkwardly. "Um, okay."
"Um," Zaizen says. "Yeah, so."
And then Kenya grins suddenly, bright and luminous as the sun. "Cool," he says, smirking at Zaizen and Zaizen can't look away nor stop himself from grinning back because suddenly it is cool, all of it and everything.
In the end, it turns out to be a pretty good day after all.