#hajippo

Why does it look like takamura stole kimuras sleeves😭⁉️

ᥫ cw: none ᥫ wc: 1257 ★ i dont think you guys understand how much i want this man. cross posted on ao3

— IT WAS JUST CRUEL, HIS LUCK WITH LOVE.

[♡]: kimura was used to losing. he’s lost his fair share of boxing matches, lost his fair share of chances at love. at this point, it’s unfortunately like second nature. but recently he’s found himself in a fight with an opponent he’s certain he can’t beat, the only difference is this time he absolutely refuses to lose.

WITH GRIT TEETH, KIMURA DOES HIS USUAL TRAINING, gloved hands punching the sandbag with more force than usual. He’s fired up, definitely motivated to push himself more, to run a bit faster, to punch harder. Now, there’s plenty of reasons for a boxer to be so motivated, for some it’s passion, other’s it’s ambition, today for Kimura it’s—

“Yo! I’m back!”

BAM. Kimura throws a straight into the punching bag, jaw clenching tighter than it already was.

—Frustration.

Now, Kimura knew well enough that trying to fight a boxer five weight classes above him was a death sentence, and fighting a beast like Takamura is suicide. Still, he can’t help but be frustrated, almost to the point of settling this issue in the ring.

“Oh ho! So it’s Kimura making those sounds!” Takamura grins, clearly in a good mood.

That’s the problem with trying to settle this issue; Takamura has no idea what’s going on. To the world champion, it was a normal Friday afternoon where he and his friends did their usual training routines and had fun friendship times together. Takamura Mamoru was completely oblivious to the heavy stares on the back of head, to the fact that every punch Kimura threw against that worn leather bag was meant for him.

Now, in Takamura’s defense, this time it wasn’t his fault. Well, at least not directly his fault.

See, Takamura was an accomplice at most, to the crime that was stealing you away from Kimura. He remembers it clearly, the way you and him stood side by side at some crepe stall, a strawberry-banana crepe in your hands, a hint of whipped cream lingering on the corners of your lips. Kimura had been on his way home from training with Miyata, taking a different route than usual, having come from Kawahara gym. He spotted you two from afar, dread already icing his veins as he drew closer and closer. And while it felt wrong to, he had hidden behind a post to spy on you two, peering from the corner, tuning into your conversation.

Kimura had caught just the latter half of it, your sighing as you took another bite of your sweet treat and Takamura’s disapproving grunt at the sight of it. “That thing’s gonna make you fat.”

“Shut the hell up,” you had replied, sneering at him as you licked stray bits of cream from your lips. “Anyway, about my question earlier…?”

Takamura had grunted, arms crossed over his chest. “Dunno.” He had shrugged to which you elbow him. “Tch, alright, alright. If it were up to me… billiards and drinks would be the better option for a date.”

Option…? For… a date?

Kimura’s heart had sunk. He liked you for quite a while now, and he’s done a great job at keeping it secret from his friends, mainly because he was worried they’d tease him for it, but more importantly because he was worried it would only encourage one of them to try something with you just to spite him. Somehow, despite how careful he was, that bastard Takamura went for it anyway. The hell was the point of keeping his crush secret?

“Oh! Alright!” You had beamed, taking another bite of your crepe. “Is Friday after training okay?” You had spoken with your mouth full, voice muffled as you spoke and chewed, something Kimura found utterly adorable despite the burn in his heart.

Takamura had nodded. “Sounds good.” He had replied as you both began walking away.

“Ahh, I have no idea what to wear.”

“Eh, I doubt that matters.”

And that was the last Kimura could hear as he watched you and Takamura grow smaller and smaller in the distance. He was… heartbroken, which was a complete understatement. Really, all sorts of emotions pooled in his chest, heartache, grief, despair, frustration.

Which leads back to today, Friday of the same week, the day you and Takamura were supposedly meant to go on a date for billiards and drinks. Kimura grumbles as he hits the bag again, slumping against it after. Each second that passes is like the ticking of a bomb, each clock has turned into a doomsday counter for Kimura’s demise. The thought of you two on a date infuriates him to his core, the dreadful images flash in his mind like a slideshow torture machine; you and Takamura holding hands, Takamura leaning over you to help you with pool, you leaning against Takamura when you’ve drunk a bit too much, you and Takamura kis—

BAM. Kimura lands another punch against the bag before he could finish the thought. 

He needs to cool off, and he needs to get out of here because the more he stays in the gym, the more aware he is of Takamura’s presence and that alone pisses him off. It’s time to call it a day. So he peels off his gloves and heads to the shower. It’s a bit earlier than when he usually ends the day, but Kimura really just can’t stand it. The shower only does little to help soothe his temper, the cool water against his skin barely managing to calm him down. Though, at least once he’s dry and changed, he feels a bit fresher, less irate now that he’s out of his sweaty clothes.

Kimura bids his goodbyes, barely looking at his friends (Takamura especially) before rushing out the door, ready to head home, bury his face into his pillow, and wish he was in Takamura’s shoes instead.

“Ah, you’re early.”

Kimura looks down, shocked to find you right in front of him, hand stretched out to supposedly open the door. He swallows nervously, wide eyed as he takes in how stunning you look, hair done up neatly unlike your usual hairstyle and dressed in pretty clothes he hasn’t seen you in before. It’s almost as if you’ve got something special planned this evening— and right, your date with Takamura.

Kimura clicks his tongue, annoyed. “He’s inside if you’re looking for him,” he grumbles as he tries to move past you, wanting to leave before you unite with your date tonight.

You turn to look at him quizzically. “Uh… who?”

Kimura groans. “Takamura, of course, who else?” He snaps, stopping at his tracks with his back turned to you.

He shouldn’t be taking his anger out on you, not when you’re just as clueless as Takamura is in all this. But to make him spell out just how badly he fumbled this time was divine punishment.

There’s a short pause. “W… why would I be looking for Takamura? I came here for you.”

“What.”

“Yeah,” you say like it's obvious. “Like… You know… I thought maybe you’d be free tonight and we could hang out or whatever… I-I was thinking billiards and maybe we can go for drinks afterwards…”

Kimura stares at you dumbfounded, mouth hung wide agape as all of a sudden, a week’s worth of dread and frustration and sadness washes away and is quickly replaced with heat in his cheeks and pounding in his heart.

“What.” He repeats, stupidly.

“Yeah! You know… Like a date!”

*Spoilers*

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Anyone else besides me thinking Mamoru Takamura’s family has Yakuza connects or something?! What was his brother talking about having “ammunition” prepared for the judges, if he loses his upcoming match?!

inktober day 17: swollen 

My beautiful husband fishing with his bare hands❤️❤️ he caught a fat fucking carp❤️❤️ we eat good today