Study, Nikogaku, Study! - Day 4by Wind ChijmesDay four. "Wow..." "That's a pretty big one..." Tolerating the limelight with no small amount of patience and a hell lot of exasperation, Aniya smacked at the multiple hands that prodded at his face. "Oi, back off, you asses." Instead of deterring the others, it only piqued their curiosity even more. The boys crowded around Aniya, admiring the new shiner on his cheek. Right now, it was just a swollen lump. Within days, it would bloom into a stunning purple colour. They tried to poke at it, ignoring the warning growl from Aniya, commenting expertly on the possible circumstances that led to it, and the mysterious individual who handed it to Aniya. It deserved some investigation, that one. Getting a bruise on Aniya's face meant either one of two things. One – he was cornered by a whole gang. Or two – it was inflicted by someone close to Aniya. The first option was thrown out almost immediately. The whole team hadn't fought an outsider for the longest time, and Aniya wasn't foolhardy enough to start something that would hurt the baseball team. Which effectively led to the second option – that Aniya was decked by someone close and someone they all knew. All eyes immediately riveted on Shinjo. The tall youth eyeballed them. "If I did it, his face'll be a pulp," he said, looking unimpressed at the handiwork of Aniya's mysterious assailant. Behind him, Sekikawa snorted, obviously recalling his own experience of encountering Shinjo's fists. The next to be suspected was – the boys turned their heads, but before they could give the next suspect the evil eye, he already reacted. "Oi!" Wakana sputtered, all defensive indignation. "It ain't me! And don't look at me – unless you want a taste of my – " "Why are all of you over there?" "Hey, Mikoshiba," Sekikawa beckoned the other boy with one hand. "C'mere! Aniya got beat up." They'd expected Mikoshiba to be exasperated, or annoyed, or worried, like how he always was whenever one of them got into a fight. Whatever it was, they had not expected Mikoshiba to absorb the information with nothing more than a neutral glance, and approach them with such a measured gait. Looking neither left nor right, Mikoshiba simply walked right up to Aniya and stared at him. Not at the bruise forming on Aniya's cheek, but right into his eyes, and said: "Aniya. Field. Ten rounds." Amazement rippled through the boys. Are you serious?! The question hung over them, uttered out loud by some of them. Aniya – punished?! Aniya's response was also something to be said. For long seconds, he held and imprisoned Mikoshiba's gaze with his own. Only a strange twitch of his lips indicated that he was feeling anything else but what his cool demeanour suggested. "I get it," Aniya replied calmly, turned without a further word and headed out to the field. For the next several minutes, the whole team was treated to the incredible sight of Aniya jogging around the field in punishment handed out by Mikoshiba. Now that was something they did not see everyday. "Whatever he did, it must be really, really, really bad, nyaa~" Yufune mused aloud, and some of the others nodded in agreement. Mikoshiba, the most peace-loving of them all, who took beatings without retaliation, and walked to school to conserve the world's fuel. Before any of the others could launch into new discussions of the possible vices that Aniya possibly committed, Mikoshiba came up to them and smiled. "Shall we start practice? Or shall we all run rounds?" There was steel to his voice that surprised, but was grudgingly accepted by the boys. "All right, Captain, don't get all bitchy on us. Yo, let's start!" "Get the baseballs over there. And the bats. Oi, catch!" The boys launched noisily and efficiently into practice, quickly forgetting the earlier ruckus over Aniya. None of them saw the flicker on Mikoshiba's face, the composure cracking as he glanced towards the solitary figure running rounds around the field. The practice was good, on the field. They were really starting to come together as a team. Their movements connected like a well-oiled mechanism, and their baseball flowed like smooth dialogue between one another. The practice was not so good, off the field. Yufune and Okada were still not on speaking terms, even if they sometimes forgot it themselves and began chattering, only to remember and recede into uncomfortable silence. Mikoshiba snapped out orders in a tone that was harsh for the usually gentle boy, and most of these orders were reserved especially for Aniya. On his part, Aniya basically sucked up the anger, dealt with it, and moved on as though nothing was out of ordinary. In the midst of those two warring pairs of boys, everyone else was rather glad when baseball practice finally ended and they could retreat back to their study areas. It wasn't that they couldn't handle internal tensions, but even too much made everyone feel like shit. Okada was quick to follow the extremely unwilling Wakana and Hiyama, leaving behind a hapless Yufune. As the others slowly dispersed, Mikoshiba hovered for an indecisive moment, before turning on his heels and saying something about talking to Kawato-sensei. Aniya watched him leave, before tagging along with Shinjo and Sekikawa as they went in search for a new study location.
"Oi...see there...at those clouds...see 'em? Don't you think...when you look just a bit more closely...they kinda look like people? Check out the outlines..." Hiyama looked at Wakana, who looked back him with something like murder in his eyes. Then they both turned their heads and looked at the boy crouched on the ground just five feet away. Okada had his back to the wall, his head tilted back, and eyes cast wonderingly at the sky above. "They look like fuckin' clouds to me," Hiyama barked at him. "No, no...look closely..." Okada murmured like a chant, his gaze never leaving the mass of clouds that he obviously found profoundly fascinating. "There, you can see sorta an outline of a head...limbs...you know, clouds...the neverending change to their shapes, the endless possibilities...Kinda like life, don't you think?" Hiyama felt his hands twitch dangerously. Any time now, he was going to have to get over there, wrap his hands around Okada's neck and apply pressure. For a whole day, a whole night, and then some, Okada had been doing the psycho-babble nonstop. An attempt to ditch Okada by moving to the study area in the main school compound proved not only to be unsuccessful because Okada not only refused to be ditched, but it also horrified the fuck out of them when Okada started philosophising to the unsuspecting student population. "Yufune, that bastard..." Wakana growled, remembering the snarky reply he had gotten from Yufune yesterday evening. Goddamned Yufune, who obviously was the perpetrator of Okada's psychotic mood, and now wasn't willing to come and clear the mess. "Not again," Hiyama muttered, looking into the distance and studying the figure coming towards them from afar. He was getting that déjà vu feeling again, and it was not a good one. "Who is it..." Wakana squinted against the afternoon sunlight. The identity became clear when the boy was near enough to be recognised. He walked slowly, but purposefully up to the table and blinked down at them. "Uh, hi." "Mikoshiba?" Hiyama said in loud astonishment. "Whatcha want with us? Did Kawato-sensei say anything?" "Eh?" Mikoshiba said, then remembered that he had a meeting with the teacher earlier. "You'll know soon enough." "What's with the mystery?" Wakana sighed explosively. Then he straightened in hopefulness. "You here to take Okada away?" "Okada?" Mikoshiba looked genuinely surprised and shook his head. "Uh, well, no. I came to join you." "Hell no!" Wakana was thoroughly disgruntled. "What are we, fucking babysitters? Get outta here!" Wakana might as well as be preaching to the deaf, because Mikoshiba had already proceeded to sit down at their table, right where Okada had sat the day before. Folding his hands on the table, Mikoshiba looked at Hiyama. His large eyes were unnervingly earnest and plaintive. "Can – Can I ask you something?" Mikoshiba said hesitantly. "No." "Have you ever hit someone – and – well – and regretted it?" Hiyama sighed explosively. "Look at my face," he growled, and Mikoshiba actually obeyed. "Do you think I'll regret beating someone up?" "Never ever?" "Well," Hiyama paused, made a rude and exasperated noise, and shrugged. "Maybe, sometimes," his gaze flicked unconsciously towards Wakana, who looked like he was trying not to listen. "Oh," Mikoshiba said, his expression seeming to become even more downcast. "Oh," he murmured again. "Why?" Hiyama said gruffly. "You screwed someone over and you're now regretting it?" He had meant it as a joke of sorts, so he nearly balked when Mikoshiba cringed and looked up with definite guilt written all over his face. "Oi, oi, you..." "Maybe," Mikoshiba rubbed at his head awkwardly. He paused, fingers still entangled in his now-longer hair, and his expression visibly hardened as he seemed to remember something. "Maybe not." Hiyama sighed inwardly. Two days of Okada's bullshit, and now Mikoshiba's, and still, he had not killed either of them. He must be getting mellow as he aged. He looked around the table and wanted to weep. This was turning into a broken hearts club. "Hey, Wakana," Mikoshiba spoke again, now turning to the scowling Wakana. "Can I ask you a question too?" "Fuck, no!" "Have you ever hit someone and can't decide whether you should do it again, because you can't be sure if you regret it, or you actually thought he deserved it? Or do you just, uh, screw someone over, and then do it again just because you could? Are you listening? Wakana?" Wakana looked at Hiyama. "Kill me." His face was dead serious. "Just kill me now."
Sekikawa felt no shame in it. He was a natural athlete and excelled at every sport he'd ever attempted. He was no academic. He had accepted this a long time ago, but couldn't do much about the fact that he was in high-school, and needed to pass exams in order to graduate. Shinjo, on the other hand, might have felt some discomfort about his grades. The guy was so withdrawn sometimes, it was hard to tell what he was thinking. His loyalty to people he cared about notwithstanding, Sekikawa sometimes thought Shinjo didn't quite value himself as much as others, and it was quite the pity. As for Aniya... Sekikawa scratched at his head as he studied the boy seated across the table. He had no idea what the hell Aniya was up to, really. In theory, Aniya was following he and Shinjo around to, you know, tutor them. The truth was, they'd been in this study room for about forty minutes now, Aniya had been tutoring them jack shit. Right now, Aniya was staring down at the English revision questions he was supposed to be explaining to them. And it was pretty clear from the blankness in his gaze that Aniya's mind was on anything but English right then. "What's eating you?" Shinjo spoke up, then, clearly reaching the limit of his patience. When Aniya looked up and scowled, Shinjo continued. "If you're gonna give me some half-assed excuse, get the fuck out of here." Only Shinjo could say that to Aniya and get away with nothing more than an irritated grunt from Aniya. Sekikawa knew those two had known each other for quite a while, and had come to a certain mutual reliance that you would see only between two old friends. Aniya ran a hand through his already-tousled hair in barely-concealed frustration. "Spare me, Shinjo. Where the fuck do you want me to go?" Sekikawa kept his surprise hidden by a well-timed neutral expression – something he picked up from hanging with Shinjo these days. Yet he couldn't stop himself from feeling like there was just something so wrong with Aniya. The pitcher was many things, cool and in control right up there on the list. And even if Aniya wasn't being cool, his emotions had a name to them. Angry, single-minded, rebellious, and you could go on all day. He wasn't supposed to be like this – a strange mixture of tired and frustrated and god-knows-what-else. "Girl problem?" Sekikawa made an educated guess. "What?" Aniya's eyes narrowed. "No – well – maybe. Look, it's none of your fucking business." He sat back in his chair, features starting to tighten in that closed-off expression he got when he had enough of a situation. "Touchy," Sekikawa scoffed, none the least bit intimidated. The only one who had managed to wrangle some true fear out of him was a crazed Shinjo a year ago. Even then, once Sekikawa figured out what Shinjo was all about, he hadn't feared Shinjo since. Aniya looked away, his jaw so tensed he looked ready to yell if someone just touched the trigger. Well, that was what happened the day before anyway, resulting in them being thrown out of the library. The only difference was that yesterday Aniya had been annoyed by Shinjo's obstinate resistance towards the subject Chemistry. And today, it was something else entirely. "Start talking," Shinjo insisted, and Sekikawa had to admire his persistence. Shinjo was persistent if nothing else. Closing his eyes briefly, Aniya seemed to be trying to re-gather some semblance of control. Then, he opened his eyes slowly and looked at them. "It's this – person I'm – interested – in." He seemed to cringe at how lame he sounded. "I knew it," Shinjo actually snorted in amusement. "What did'ja do?" Sekikawa jumped in. "Kissed her and made her cry?" Aniya glanced so sharply at him that Sekikawa back-pedalled a bit. "Oi, joking naa. Wait, damn, Aniya. Did you really do that?" "Well..." An uncharacteristically hesitant expression passed Aniya's face. "There was a kiss...and..." He trailed off, then gestured vaguely at his own face. Sekikawa really did try to be neutral about the whole Aniya confession, he really did. But then, looking at the pathetically sheepish expression on Aniya's face, he just couldn't help it and erupted in a burst of guffaws, which he then tried valiantly to rein in with a fist pressed to his mouth. "Oh my god, who're you dating? A female sumo?" Shinjo only managed not to laugh by turning it into a superbly-timed cough. Aniya gave the both of them the glare of promised death, clearly unimpressed by their mirth. At length, he cracked and allowed himself a sigh. "What can I say? I sure know how to pick 'em." "And you have the face to show for it too. Why did'ja have to go pick such a crazy chick?" A little smile played on Aniya's lips. "That makes it challenging." "Well, don't let Mikoshiba know," Sekikawa rolled his eyes. "Ah well, maybe he does know, that's why he was so mad at ya', Aniya." He noticed Aniya looking at him in amazement. "What? I got it right again? Wow." "How would you know?" Aniya said tersely. "Well, I don't, obviously," Sekikawa drawled, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "But if I know Mikoshiba, he takes this kinda thing seriously." "What kinda thing?" "This, you know," Sekikawa groaned in exasperation at Aniya's apparent stupidity. "Matters of the heart." He made a show of it by clutching at his own chest and swooning, and stopped only when Shinjo smacked him upside the head. "Watch the hair!" They didn't get very much further than that. Sekikawa got a beep on his handphone then, and picked up the text-message from Mikoshiba. Aniya seemed unusually interested in it. "What is it?" Sekikawa showed them the message. "Mikoshiba's at the storage room. I think he needs help to clear some of the stuff there. Well, then, I'll head over to – " "I'll go." "But he said – " "I'll take care of it," Aniya repeated, his tone allowing no further discussion. Shinjo snorted. "What about that chick?" Aniya was already standing up and getting ready to leave. He paused at Shinjo's question, before managing an uncertain grin that looked so at odds with his usually confident demeanour. "I don't know." It was not only until Aniya was well out of sight, that Shinjo and Sekikawa finally looked at each other in complete befuddlement.
Now he felt guilty about it. Shinjo and Sekikawa had the most trouble with their studies, and Mikoshiba was pitching a fit at them. He had quickly sent another message to Sekikawa, telling him not to bother, but the boy replied that help was already on the way. Well, Mikoshiba decided as he surveyed the mess. He could use an extra set of hands. The competition season was just months away and a good logistics record would come in need. Something on the hanging shelf caught his attention; it was a stack of stuff still wrapped in plastic. Mikoshiba raised himself on his toes and stared. Heavens, could those be the missing jerseys they had ordered a month ago? Was this where they were all this time? Mikoshiba pulled over a bunch of discarded boxes and stacked them right below the shelf. He eyed the makeshift footstool with some doubt – it didn't look very steady at all – but then if that stuff on the shelf really were the jerseys, he had to get his hands on them. Gingerly, he stepped onto the boxes, feeling them sink beneath his weight. Then, they held firm, and he released the breath he didn't realise he had been holding. Raising his arms, he got a good hold on the plastic and tugged. It didn't budge at all. By then, he was high enough to take a close look at the wrapped stuff and confirmed those were the jerseys. Biting down on his lip, he clenched his hands around the plastic and pulled hard, leaning his weight back. Nope, it wasn't working. That was when he heard the approaching footsteps. "Sekikawa?" Mikoshiba tried to turn his head. He felt the slight give beneath his feet first, and he had about two seconds to realise that the boxes weren't holding, before they buckled, pitching him backwards. Uttering a cry, Mikoshiba threw his hands out to clutch at something – and felt only emptiness. Fuck, this was gonna hurt, was the only thing he could think as he crashed through the air. And landed into something soft and hard at the same time. Softness of flesh; Mikoshiba was briefly grateful for whoever it was who cushioned his fall. Hard chest at his back, hard hands encircling his upper arms from behind. A snigger from a startlingly familiar voice. Mikoshiba's head whipped around and he stared into the smirking face of Aniya. Flinching, Mikoshiba jerked out of Aniya's arms and stumbled away, before steadying himself as he tried to gather the remaining shreds of his dignity. He made sure there was as much space between them as possible. "Aniya," he managed, willing his voice to be calm. "What are you doing here?" "Rescuing your ass, as it seems," Aniya tilted his head wryly. "Won't do the team any good if you broke your neck or something." As he spoke, he began to ease himself into the storage room. Mikoshiba's gaze darted nervously beyond Aniya. The youth was positioned squarely between Mikoshiba and the doorway; Mikoshiba wouldn't be able to leave without bodily shoving Aniya aside. From the sly curl of Aniya's lips, that was apparently on his mind as well. Aniya's lips. A shiver broke out all over Mikoshiba. "Feel better now?" Aniya's voice dropped lower. "About what?" Mikoshiba sounded far calmer than he felt. Good. "After punishing me this morning. And yesterday." "If you think those are enough punishment for – " Mikoshiba froze, and his heart flip-flopped. He couldn't say it. Not without remembering it all over again. Bruising hardness over and inside his mouth. "For?" Aniya picked up on his slip at once. He stepped fully into the room, and slid the door close behind him. It closed with a sharp click, deafening in the heavy air. Mikoshiba's mouth went dry. Now he was trapped in the same – tiny – room as Aniya with no means of escape. Through sheer willpower, he forced himself not to back away as Aniya approached with the coiled deliberation of a hunting cat. Aniya paused several feet away. He was close enough now for Mikoshiba to see the points of light in his eyes. "For kissing you?" For kissing him. Mikoshiba's hands were trembling so badly he had to clench them into fists. Exactly that. For kissing him just because he could. For kissing him, making him feel things he was never supposed to feel, and leaving him a complete mess because he couldn't stop remembering it. And oh god, he was afraid he had liked it. "I don't want to talk about it," Mikoshiba said quietly. "Move aside and let me pass." "No," Aniya said, his tone sharpening. The first traces of anger seeped into his gaze. "Because I want to talk about it. And none of us is going anywhere until I sort this out. Hit me again if you want." "I don't want to!" Mikoshiba snapped, furious at Aniya for suggesting it, and himself most of all for the guilt that gnawed at him every time he saw Aniya's swollen cheek. Then the whole situation just descended on him, and he shook his head tiredly. "I don't know what I'm feeling, okay? Can we please just drop this?" "Sure," Aniya said, and for a hysterical moment, Mikoshiba actually thought Aniya would do just that. Then, the pitcher's shoulders went rigid, and Mikoshiba saw the change in Aniya's expression from irritation to something dark and fierce and intense, all of this happening just as Aniya snapped forward and closed the distance between them in two strides. Mikoshiba thought he might have gasped, or yelped, or something as he felt his arm seized in an iron grip, and his body moving as he was dragged to the back of the storage room. His back met the wall in a hard thump, and his wrists followed as they were clamped to the wall to either side of his head. Eyes rounding in shock, Mikoshiba could only stare dumbly into Aniya's face. "You said you don't know what you're feeling," Aniya said, breathing harsh and ragged. "That's not good enough. So you either find it out yourself right now, or I'm doing it for you." The trepidation that Mikoshiba had been overwhelmed by disappeared abruptly, replaced by a surge of anger. What right did Aniya have? To corner him and demand answers? "Don't threaten me, Aniya! And don't treat me like I'm a thing." Mikoshiba was only vaguely aware his voice sailed dangerously high. "I'm not a girl, and I'm not Yagi, and I never will be." He was so furious he didn't see the flare of surprise in Aniya's eyes. "Neither am I the latest novelty for you to amuse yourself with. And – " "Wait," Aniya cut him off. "You think that..." Incredulity crept over his face. "You think I'm using you as a substitute for women?" Mikoshiba looked away sullenly. "Maybe!" "I thought you're smarter than that!" "And I thought you're into girls!" "I am!" Aniya retorted, then paused. "Well, girls and you. Fuck. I don't know." "I don't know either," Mikoshiba conceded softly. "Does it matter?" Aniya retorted, his glare deepening. Not so much out of anger, but indignation. "Who gives a damn? Tell me! Who has the right to tell me how to live my fucking life? The world doesn't care. I don't care. I'll kiss whoever I want. I'll fuck whoever I want. Whenever I want. Wherever I like." That was some speech. Mikoshiba gaped at Aniya. "You're the devil." "And you're impossible!" They stared at each other, reality sinking in around them, realisation dawning on them at the same time, the tragic and hilarious truths of themselves and each other. Mikoshiba sighed – he never could stay angry with Aniya for long – and began laughing. A second later, Aniya was laughing along, his eyes crinkling up, and it felt like what Mikoshiba always treasured between himself and Aniya. Comfortable, conspiratorial, knowing, sharing jokes, trading secrets. The tension suddenly gone, Mikoshiba grew aware of the horrid ache at his back, and realised that he was still pinioned to the wall like some helpless butterfly. Mikoshiba squirmed in growing embarrassment against Aniya. "Get off me." Aniya's weight eased for about a heartbeat, then it was back and even heavier as Aniya leaned Mikoshiba even more deeply into the wall. "Well, now that we've made things clear between us," he smiled, and it was one that had the effect of drawing a flush from Mikoshiba. "Wha – what?" Mikoshiba sputtered, straining against Aniya's hold and quite failing. "We didn't make anything clear!" "Well, for one, I think we've established that we're into girls, and more." Then the most infuriatingly arrogant smirk descended on Aniya's face. "And two, I'm a fucking brilliant kisser." Mikoshiba's jaw dropped. "You're the devil and the most self-obsessed bastard I have ever met." "Tsk, what language. Why? Did you hate it when I kissed you?" He would lie if he could, but not when Aniya was gazing so intently at him, and from just a bare inch away. "I...no..." he admitted in a small voice. "So you liked it." "I didn't say that! I – I don't know!" "Let's do it again and find out." Mikoshiba knew a warning when he heard one. He reared back, gasping when he felt solid wall behind his head. Aniya's face neared his own; he could feel the warm breath from Aniya's lips. "A-Aniya, wait – " Mikoshiba heard himself squeak. "Waitwaitwaitwaitwait – " Lips pressed against Mikoshiba's mouth, shutting him up. Mikoshiba's eyes fell shut and he cringed, expecting yet another brutal kiss like the one yesterday. What he did not expect was the gentle brush of lips over his own. Once. Twice. Careful, chaste. Almost playful nips and licks at the corners of Mikoshiba's mouth, moving inwards, fully on the lips. And it was probably a good thing he kept his eyes closed, because Mikoshiba felt his traitorous body respond, and he arched against Aniya. The grip was released abruptly from Mikoshiba's wrists. A hand rose and cupped Mikoshiba at his cheek, and the other slid between Mikoshiba's back and the wall to ground their bodies even harder together. Any form of coherent thought he had was scattered to the wind. Mikoshiba made a sound into Aniya's mouth as the kiss deepened into a slide of silky wetness, fists that he didn't realise he had curled into the front of Aniya's shirt tightening into something dangerously close to desperation. Aniya chose that moment to pull away, leaving them sharing breath as they panted against each other's mouths, their bodies still pressed from chest to hip, and lower still. Mikoshiba sagged against the other boy, disorientated and light-headed. "You like it," Aniya murmured, a damning little smile playing on his lips. "Admit it." Cheeks burning, Mikoshiba turned his face so he wouldn't have to look at the smugness that he knew was on Aniya's face. "Like hell I would." "I'll have to try harder next time, then." Aniya gave a low laugh that sounded – heaven forbid – like a sensuous growl. "Oh and...there's a third thing I found out." "Yeah? What's that?" Mikoshiba muttered, trying to figure out how to escape with all of Aniya's weight pinioning him to the wall. "That you're a prick?" His voice died in his throat as Aniya suddenly nuzzled against his cheek. "That the Captain blushes like a girl," Aniya breathed into his ear, then drew away completely, stepping back, and began straightening his school uniform like a model student, all the while looking incredibly pleased with himself. "You..." Mikoshiba found himself at a complete loss for words, gawking like an idiot as Aniya adjusted his attire. "Later," Aniya said as he turned to leave. When Aniya was well and truly gone from sight, Mikoshiba collected himself slowly. His mind was still in little miserable pieces over what had happened earlier. He sighed and looked around him. Maybe this storage room was jinxed. They had unlocked Hiratsuka and Imaoka from it, and for weeks afterwards, everyone had thought those two had a 'thing' going on. In self-defense, Hiratsuka and Imaoka had pointed fingers to Okada and Yufune, claiming that they had overheard those two – Wait, overheard? His eyes fell on the wall separating the storage room from the club room, and his heart nearly stopped. Just how thin was this wall again? Mikoshiba groaned and buried his head in his hands. He was not getting anymore help with cleaning out the storage room, the forgotten jerseys were still cemented to the bloody shelf, he just got ravaged by his own pitcher and liked it, and whoever was in the club room next door probably overheard everything. Way to go Mikoshiba, he congratulated himself. Way to go.
Okada pushed the door open and poked his head in there. "Yo?" A head emerged from the somewhat organised chaos within. "It's me." "Mikoshiba?" Okada said, not feeling a small swell of perhaps, disappointment. Not. "Yeah." The youth now emerged fully from the bowels of the storage room. His hair was starting to stick up in tufts and his face was smeared with dust. "I'm uh, organising the storage area." "I can see that," Okada raised an eyebrow. "You look like you've been at it the whole day." "I have," Mikoshiba returned drily. "But it's finally done." He looked hugely relieved. Cradling a large stack of plastic-wrapped jerseys in his arms, he moved past Okada. "I want to get these to Kawato-sensei. Help me lock up, will you?" "Sure," Okada was agreeable. "Okada," Mikoshiba had paused several steps away. "Yeah?" "Yufune's not in the club room. He went off a little while ago." A pause. "The club room's empty. Just so you know." Without a further word, Mikoshiba walked away. "Yeah...thanks." Okada finished quietly, locked the door behind him, and stepped back out into the night air. Some wry pensiveness clung to his mind. Damn it, he must have made that whole fight with Yufune fucking obvious. If even Mikoshiba picked up on it. Even as he was wrapped in his own thoughts, he found himself standing outside the club room. He hesitated for about a second, feeling stupid, before remembering what Mikoshiba said. Yufune was not in there, right? Making up his mind, Okada opened the door, stepped inside and switched on the lights. His eyes focused quickly, and he was half-disappointed and half-relieved to see that Mikoshiba was telling the truth. There was not a single soul anywhere in the room. But there was plenty stuff. In the three days that Yufune had laid claim to the club room, he had turned it into, well, his own nest, apparently. There were things all over the place – T-shirts, hair-clips, tons of them, random stationery, empty tidbit bags, you name it. Navigating through the mess, Okada reached the centre of the room and stared down at the little hills of paper. For one disappointing moment, Okada thought he was looking at origami paper. That was until he noticed the writings on them. Bending down, Okada picked up a few sheaves and flipped through them. Something thudded in his heart. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Mathematical equations. Completed sets of revision papers. Notes that were tattered from repeated flipping and writing. Okada was so amazed he didn't hear the approaching footfalls. "Oi, Mikoshiba, that you? Damn, I haven't cleaned up the mess yet. I told you not to go in there or you'll have a heart attack, nyaa. Now see – " The voice stopped speaking at the same time Okada turned around. "Uhm," Yufune hovered uncertainly at the doorway, eyes wide as he stared at Okada. Okada stood up, still holding onto the sheets of papers he had been looking through. He shrugged a little wryly. "I am having a heart attack right now, actually."' Yufune's glance flickered to the papers, and then back up at Okada again in a glare. "Why? Because I actually did work and made myself useful, instead of folding paper planes?" There were lines of exhaustion around his eyes that Okada had not noticed before. "Yeah," Okada admitted. Yufune seemed rather taken aback by that blunt admission. He kept quiet for some time, letting the silence hang over them like a death knell, before he said pointedly, "So what are you here for?" "Uhm..." Okada began, reflexively formulating an excuse in his brain already, before he thought the better of it. He was tired of remaining angry at both Yufune and himself. "To look for you," he said truthfully. Yufune seemed to give a start at that, then turned his face aside with a rueful shake of head. "And I went out looking for you." "Oh," Okada said intelligently. "Wow, now I feel like we're both morons." That kinda broke the mood. It was still a little tensed and somewhat awkward, but Okada could feel the reconciliatory smile that Yufune was trying to conceal behind his glare. It didn't take long however, for the anger to dissipate from Yufune's stance and he tossed his head prissily. "Don't think you're getting away with that half-assed apology. I expect some compensation of sorts, and a big one too. " "God, shut up," Okada groaned, smacking his own head with the back of one hand. "And get in here and clean up the mess you made, you idiot." "That's great, coming from you!" Yufune hopped into the room, shaking out the trash bag he had found earlier. "You've been driving Wakana and Hiyama nuts for two days. Damn, for once, it isn't me, nyaa!" "I've been trying to enlighten them about life, genius." "Bitch!" "Baby," Okada snorted, unable to hide his grin. He poked at the piles of random rubbish with his foot, kicking some of the crap over to Yufune so that he could dump them into the trash bag. "Just look at this mess." "Oi, easy with the insults, nyaa! At least I've been working on my Math!" Yufune retorted in the midst of sorting out his stuff. He looked up at Okada and thrust out his hand. "Look at my hand!" Rolling his eyes in long-suffering tolerance, Okada took the hand and stared at it. Something registered in his mind as he stared down at the calluses and reddened skin. It was the same one that Yufune had cut while folding those paper planes. "What are you gonna do about it?" Yufune's gaze was unwavering and open in its honesty. Trepidation, a quiet hopefulness, and a measure of something else that Okada was almost afraid to find out. "Idiot," Okada muttered, a flare of anxiety making his nerves spark. "Why me?" It began when they were kids, outside the Principal's office in middle-school, the other boy turning his head and staring at Okada with the hugest, most dejected-looking eyes he had ever seen. At thirteen, Okada had not the slightest idea how to deal with a boy who looked like a puppy. Now, at near-eighteen, he still hadn't figured it out. Yet in the course of the five years in between, Yufune had somehow managed to make himself Okada's personal responsibility. Swallowing hard, Okada lifted Yufune's fingers to his lips, and flinched when they suddenly closed around his wrist. "Not there," Yufune told him solemnly. "Here." Okada took a look at where Yufune was pointing at, and he wanted to die in mortification on the spot. The idiot fluff-head was poking at his own cheek. "No way!" Okada snorted, jerking his hand free. "I'm not going to kiss you there! Where the hell did you get the weird idea?" For a moment, Yufune's gaze darted to one side and he seemed to be staring at the storage area with something akin to embarrassed wonder. "Well...we're not gonna be the first to do this, anyway..." he murmured, but not so softly for Okada to miss. "What? What? I didn't hear – " Yufune stood up in exasperation. "What's the big deal?" Okada tossed him an incredulous glare. "The big deal is that I don't go around sucking face with people! And don't blackmail me into it just because you did a few Math questions!" "It's just on the cheek, nyaa! I think I deserve a reward for being such a good student...After all, you know how much I hate Math. And I locked myself in the club room, and did so, so, so many sums..." Despite himself, Okada cast that moron a glance, and inhaled sharply when he saw that pathetic, puppy-eyed look Yufune was levelling on him with all his power. "Fuck!" Okada swore and turned his glare on the far wall. If he ignored Yufune long enough, maybe that idiot would give up. "I didn't even finish a single one of the remaining twenty paper planes...I just sat here and did sum after sum, after sum, after sum, alone...Alone. While everyone else had study partners..." Okada rolled his eyes skywards. God help me... "And now I'm getting bitched at just because I'm asking for a tiny, tiny, tiny kiss on the cheek. It's not as if I'm demanding – " All right, he had enough. Stalking over to Yufune, Okada yanked the taller boy's head down, and pressed his lips to Yufune's cheek. Quick intake of breaths from both boys. It was...amazing what you could feel when you were so close to someone. Soft skin beneath his mouth, the surprised jerk from Yufune's body, and the sensation of the petulant scowl on Yufune's lips curving up into a smile. When Okada pulled away with a brusque are-you-satisfied-now grunt, Yufune was grinning, looking so ridiculously happy it was as though Okada had done something earth-shattering. It touched Okada in a strange way, like he didn't understand how something like that could please Yufune so much. "You're gonna help me with the rest of the paper planes, right?" A sideways glance told Okada that Yufune was still staring at him with that hopeful, puppyish look. Shrugging gruffly, Okada turned and kicked at an innocent baseball on the ground. "Yeah," he muttered. This time, Okada didn't even have to look to see Yufune's smile. Prologue ~ Day 1 ~ Day 2 ~ Day 3 ~ Day 4 ~ Day 5 ~ Epilogue ~ |