#swwyz

"Really?" he's asking Ryou-san. "Nothing at all?"

"I've had other things on my mind." Ryou-san sounds totally disinterested. "For someone to keep my attention... that person would have to be exceptional."

Not the reveal he's – not pushing for, exactly, but half-prepared for. One of these days. But – that person. When Ryou-san says something, it's never an accident. There's a warm feeling in the pit of Youichi's stomach.

"I suppose you've put quite a lot of... thought into it." Bone dry.

Youichi shrugs. Ignores the innuendo. "Eh, you know. There's plenty of time, right? After graduation. College. After that. What's the rush?"

Silence, and then a cool hand covers his forehead. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Peachy," Youichi says. Bats at Ryousuke's hand, as his heartbeat gallops in his ears.

"A fever? Possession? Body swap?"

"This isn't a horror story, Ryou-san."

"Hmm."

Youichi settles back into the grass. "I just think, you know. The right thing is worth waiting for."

"How romantic." Sharp, needling. Ryou-san's way of showing fondness.

Youichi smiles at the sky. "Sure," he says. "If you want to put it that way."

* * *

Youichi didn’t even notice at first, was the thing. At first, right after the third years had graduated – and he’d think of them as "the third years" for a long time, long after he himself moved up to 3-B – he and Ryou-san kept up a pretty steady stream of messages, trading news from the high school baseball circuit and reports on Kominato junior for stories about college life. Sometimes they'd text back and forth about the same big game on TV, kind of like they were watching together, almost.

Around the end of Ryousuke's second term at university, just as Seidou bowed out of the fall tournament and Youichi started to come to grips with the fact that his last high school baseball game had been three months ago, enough of the old team came home for the holidays that they had a meet-up, the first since Spring Koushien. Tetsu-san came by Seidou every so often to keep an eye on Little Yuuki, but Jun-san was back from Osaka, and Fumiya from Hiroshima, and even Chris-senpai was home, patient as ever as he was pelted with questions about California. And then suddenly between one breath and the next there was Ryou-san, smiling tranquilly next to Haruichi, and Youichi thought his face was going to burst from grinning so hard.

It must have begun after that. Youichi went home for New Year’s and squirmed as his mother ruffled his hair extra hard every other minute, her way of saying I can't believe you’re graduating. Haruichi sent him a picture of the Kominato family lined up at their local temple, Ryousuke’s hair short and windblown. Looking at them next to each other it was impossible not to see that Haruichi was a good four centimeters taller. Youichi remembered thinking it was funny that he didn’t hear anything from Ryousuke, but that was Ryou-san for you. He texted him anyway.

hppy new years partner

And after a minute: Happy New Year, Kuramochi.

Then there was the final push for exams, even though they didn’t really matter with a recommendation from Coach and his college offer in hand, then the scramble to do the rounds of goodbye parties and pack up and move into the baseball dorm at Hosei, the grueling first-year hazing-we-mean-training-camp, attending obligatory Spring League games to cheer for his new senpai, dragging himself to lecture whenever he could manage between three-hour sessions of morning and evening practice. And Ryousuke—did he have exams? He must have; it was the end of the term, and he wasn't texting Youichi at all.

In the middle of the summer heat, Seidou made it to Koushien for Sawamura and Furuya and Haruichi's last hurrah. Youichi couldn’t make it all the way to Kobe during game weeks, but he knew hell and high water combined wouldn’t keep Ryousuke away. tell the kids hi for me, he texted.

He never got an answer, which he didn’t realize for a while, because then the Fall League was on them and Youichi woke, slept and dreamed Big Six games for eight brutal weeks. They beat Meiji but lost to Waseda, and then to Rikkyo – embarrassing – coming a respectable second overall. He was so exhausted by the end of the league he barely had the energy to read the congratulatory messages he did receive, much less notice the ones he didn’t. Then a lackluster nod at studying with his freshman teammates, who were all in the same classes, and then it was the holiday break, again, and Youichi went straight from the end-of-season drinking party to his dorm room and slept for eleven hours.

He truly rejoined the world of the living sometime around the day after that. The sun was out, so Youichi wandered outside to bask on the steps outside the dorm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just... not done anything. He had a date with his PS3, just as soon as he could get himself to move again. He scrolled through his neglected messages instead, squinting against the glare. 31 new notifications. His mother, Haruichi (what a dutiful kid), Shirasu (huh), a text chain started by Sawamura entitled holidays?? that looked like a roll call of who’d be around for New Year's and included a pointed are you reading this Miyuki kazuya???

Youichi snorted. No answer from either Kominato, though presumably the younger would be there. Actually, there was no reason the elder wouldn’t either, even though he hadn't been around lately, not since – And all of a sudden Youichi realized the last time he’d seen Ryou-san face-to-face had been over a year ago.

It threw him, for a minute. But no time like the present. He opened a new message.

hey ryou-san!! long time no see. got some free time? wanna meet up?

It had been almost two weeks since the last time they'd texted, desultory complaints about the snowstorm rolling through Tokyo. Ryousuke would be an upperclassman soon; he’d said something about choosing seminars. Sure enough, when Youichi finally got an answer, late that night, it read, Ah, I’m a bit busy right now. Rain check, please.

np gimme a shout when your free!! hows school?

Ryousuke kept read receipts on. It gave Youichi two days to wonder before he got an answer.

Going. Stay warm out there.

Youichi couldn't put a finger on what exactly made him feely itchy and uncomfortable. So he ignored it. He'd cracked the starting lineup midway through the league and he couldn't let his practice schedule slip if he wanted to stay there, even for a couple days. Plus he had plenty of other shit to catch up on – violent manga to read, games to play. He wasn't going to let this get to him.

thanks ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ btw made the starting string. when are you gonna come to one of our games?

This time, four days went by before he got a single, completely unrelated message: I suppose you've heard about Fumiya's latest.

Even then, it took a couple hours before Youichi got it, until Sawamura—fucking Sawamura—texted him a picture of himself and Furuya and Haruichi and Ryou-san at—they were at Seidou, on the practice grounds, with Yui and Little Yuuki and some vaguely familiar faces that must be their underclassman. oniisan came to visit!!!!!!! the text said, and that was when Youichi realized Ryousuke was doing it on purpose.

* * *

He didn't expect it so he didn't have any defense. Just hurt – dumb, animal hurt, the kind where his body didn't know whether it wanted to lash out or curl into a ball whimpering to protect himself.

He was—supposed to know. Ryou-san wanted him to know. Wanted to hurt him.

Ryou-san hurt people on purpose, sometimes. But he'd never wanted to hurt Youichi.

That was the thing. Ryou-san hurt people, if they did something that made him think they deserved it, but not his people, not Haruichi or Youichi or Jun-senpai or even dumb, lovable Sawamura – not unless something made it unavoidable. Youichi didn't think he'd done anything to deserve it. He hadn't had a chance. So it was unavoidable. For whatever Ryou-san wanted.

Youichi didn't have the right kind of brain for these kind of games, always guessing one step ahead of one step ahead. But he knew Ryou-san. He knew how Ryou-san expected this to go down. Youichi would be hurt, confused (check); he'd pull back, bury himself in baseball. Like he always had before. The distance would grow, the noncommittal texts – We should get dinner soon or Let’s hang out when you’re not so busy – slowing to a trickle, lip service, greetings on birthdays and Haruichi going pro, until the reason for the distance was forgotten and Youichi was left with a mild wistfulness and some fond memories. And in a few years they'd finally meet up for a Seidou reunion and Ryou-san would show up with some boring guy and introduce him as his date and smile, like Youichi was supposed to be surprised, like he didn't know –

He swiped a hand across his face, blinking back furious tears. Fuck that. Fuck Ryousuke. Youichi got to his feet.

"You-san?" Haruichi's voice was fuzzy, like he had a hand over the receiver; there was laughter in the background. "What's wrong?"

Youichi said, "Give me your brother's address."

* * *

He was lingering by the bicycle bay, the sun down and twilight shading the rusty light into grey, when Ryousuke came back to his apartment building.

Turned out it wasn’t that far away; twenty minutes on the Toei Line. For the last year, or more, they'd been twenty minutes apart. Thinking about it made the pressure in Youichi's head increase, something tight squeezing around his temples.

He knew it was Ryousuke the moment he turned on to the street. He hadn't changed in the ways that mattered. Perfectly self-contained, not a movement out of place. Smaller than Youichi remembered. It made his face heat and his throat prickle, anger and confusion warring with dumb canine instinct, Ryou-san, it's Ryou-san.

Ryousuke was working on his thesis proposal – Youichi knew that much, from the little he had been allowed. Something something economics. He was probably coming back from the library; he had a laptop bag over one shoulder and carried a paper bag bulging oddly with book corners. When he reached the bank of mailboxes, Youichi moved out of the shadows.

Ryousuke glanced at him. Then did a real, actual double-take, which would have been satisfying enough to defuse the entire conversation if Youichi weren't still so angry he couldn't see straight. Ryousuke didn't move, arrested two steps from the door, and Youichi could almost see him weighing it—walk right past, go inside, deliver the killing blow right then, or—

"Hello, Kuramochi," said Ryou-san.

No one else said his name like that. Like Ryou-san was rolling it around on his tongue, tasting it before he let it go. Like it was special.

Youichi said, "I guess you think I’m real stupid or something, huh."

Ryousuke's face gave nothing away. "And, I mean, maybe I am. I didn't even get what you were doing until yesterday. How long've you been working on this?"

Ryousuke didn't answer him. He turned away and moved toward the front door. Youichi thought with a sick sort of anger that now Ryousuke was going to try to ignore him, now that he knew Youichi was going to push him for answers and not just whimper for mercy. Then he saw Ryousuke was holding the door open.

Ryousuke said, "If you want to do this outside, by all means."

It was the cool voice that meant if Youichi wanted to drag him into such a mess he’d put a short and bloody end to it. Fine. Fine. He was Kuramochi Youichi and Ryou-san could fucking bring it. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stomped inside.

Ryousuke's apartment was on the second floor. Even in the middle of anger, Youichi couldn't help casing the place, trying to drink in as much as possible, as he always did with the rare insights he was allowed into Ryou-san's privacy. It was a simple studio, five by ten maybe. It couldn't have been much different from Youichi's suite, but it looked bigger, somehow. It was definitely cleaner. The desk was neat, the bed made up and tucked in a corner. A single mug was drying on a rack across the sink. No plastic bags bulging with empty cans leaning against the cupboard, no drying laundry strewn over the fold-out table and chairs.

Ryou-san took a position by the window, one hand resting lightly on the back of a chair. Kuramochi leaned against the tiny fridge and folded his arms.

He knew Ryou-san could wait him out, so of course then Ryou-san had to throw him by breaking the silence. "Congratulations."

"On what."

"Making the first string."

Youichi bit the inside of his mouth in an effort not to say I knew you read them, playing into Ryousuke's hand, again. Because of course he already knew that, that was the whole point, and Ryou-san knew he knew, and he knew Ryou-san knew, and – he hated this. He hated it.

With that eerie Ryou-san trick of reading his mind, Ryousuke said, "I don't think you're stupid. You understand perfectly well, don't you?"

And there it was again, the rage flaring behind his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I understand what you're telling me fine. You made sure of that."

"I've always thought it's best to be straightforward."

Youichi snorted, loudly. Sure, Ryou-san was straightforward, sucker punching you in the front to distract you from the knife in the back. But it wasn't worth arguing. Ryousuke didn't look the least bit affected by Youichi's scorn; he still emanated perfect composure, that hint of the smile you knew was there even when you couldn't see it. Youichi said, "You still think I'm – you think I don't know why."

"Why I don't feel like talking to you any more?"

"Why you want me to think that!" Youichi's voice shook just a little, god damn it.

"We're not in high school any more, Kuramochi." How childish, Youichi heard.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ryousuke's voice sharpened. "This is what happens. People grow apart."

"So, what, you should just give them an extra shove?"

"Why waste time?" He knew Ryousuke was doing it on purpose, he knew Ryousuke knew all his weaknesses, and it still hurt. "Things change. Friendships die."

The blaze of anger flashed through Youichi like lightning. "Who said anything about friendship?"

You wouldn't see it, probably, if you hadn't spent years learning Ryou-san's tells, how to communicate when words would have been too slow, attuned to every slight movement that might get the ball in your glove a hundredth of a second faster. Ryousuke's hand was still where it rested on the chair. His whole body was still. The stillness of a predator, or prey.

Ryousuke would deserve it if he weaseled out and went for some bullshit about partnership or brotherhood. But that wouldn't get them anywhere, and Youichi wasn’t here to score points. He didn't know what he was here for, exactly, only that he’d been waiting for it for a long time.

He'd been waiting, and now the pitch was coming. He couldn't fuck up now.

"I don't—you know I'm not good at, at subtle stuff. But I'm not stupid. I always thought—after a while we'd figure it out, you know? Whatever it is. Maybe—maybe not for a few years, maybe not for—I don’t know—but I always thought... I knew, okay? You made sure.” He took a deep, shaky breath. "So don't try and tell me this is, we're, that it's just friends. I know it's not. It never was."

Ryou-san just – looked at him, a look Youichi hadn't seen in a long, long time; like Ryou-san was reassessing everything he'd known about him. That hurt in its own way too.

“What did you think I was going to do, anyway, just—let it happen?” Ryou-san didn't say anything. Youichi's voice dropped, and to his own mortification he heard a helpless, plaintive note in his own voice. "I thought you knew me better than that."

That was the thing—the worst thing. That he’d thought—he’d known Ryou-san didn't see him the way other people did. Ryou-san didn't treat him the way other people did. Ryou-san got what made him tick and what lit him up and exactly how to take him apart. But despite all that, he still didn't get this, this most important piece. He still thought Youichi would let him down.

Ryousuke finally spoke. "I guess neither of us know each other as well as we thought."

The blood pulsed in Youichi's face. "Speak for yourself. I know you just fine."

"Do you?" And there it was, the first flash of the smolder that Youichi knew was there, always, like a forest fire in winter.

Youichi held his ground. "You bet I do."

"People change, Kuramochi."

"Not that much."

"We've barely spoken in months."

"And whose fault is that, huh?" He pushed himself off the fridge and crossed the room, just six steps, fists balled at his sides. Close enough to see Ryou-san's chest rise and fall, perfectly controlled. Close enough to touch. Whether to slug him or—

"Ryou-san," he said, as quietly as he could. "Don't do this to me, come on."

Ryousuke spoke to some point past his ear. "You seem awfully sure this is about you."

"I don't know what you thought I might do but—I wouldn't. I won't. I swear."

Ryousuke finally looked him in the eye. "Is something wrong with your hearing, Kuramochi? I said it has nothing to do with you."

"Bullshit," Youichi started to snarl, then pulled himself up short. Think, Youichi. What had he just told himself? Punch in the front, knife in the back. Right.

"Fine," he said. "'S not about me.' He saw it flash across Ryou-san's face, disappointment that he'd been right all along – like now he got what he'd been pushing for, he'd secretly been wishing he wouldn't.

"What do you think you're gonna do?" Youichi said.

Ryousuke's face froze.

"Cause whatever it is. You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, Ryou-san."

Ryou-san wasn't moving. This was it—his chance, now or never. He took took two more steps. In arm's reach now.

"You can have anything you want. As much as you want. You know that, right? You’ve gotta have known it."

The good thing about Ryou-san was also the bad thing about Ryou-san, which was that once he got the bit between his teeth he would run with it until he dropped. He was a fighter; it was one of the things Youichi liked so much about him. Only this time Youichi was pretty sure he was fighting something that didn't exist.

"Any time since second year. All you had to do was say the word."

Two more steps.

Ryou-san smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile.

"What makes you think I want you," he said, cool as glacial runoff, the cool of a frosted drink on a hot day, a chill that made Youichi want to submerge his head and never come out.

How did he know? He didn't, he supposed. Other than that Ryou-san wouldn't be doing this if he didn't have something to be scared of.

That was when he saw that Ryousuke's hand, nearly imperceptible, was trembling.

It hit, a current of vindication and rapport and desire and tenderness all together, like something physical, pulling him in ten directions at once. He didn't know if he wanted to punch Ryou-san, or wrap him up or and never let go, or maybe fall to his knees, or maybe all of the above. It was even odds that Ryousuke would physically step on him, though, which he didn’t want–or maybe he kind of did? it was confusing—so he settled for taking the hand in his own, as gently as he knew how.

He knew that hand well. Smaller than his own, finely shaped. The most capable hand he knew. The baseball calluses had faded; a long angry paper cut ran down the index finger. He curled the strong, flexible fingers around his own. Lifted it to his lips and kissed the knuckles, once. Then he waited for Ryou-san to cut him off at the knees with a single word.

It never came. When Youichi looked up, Ryou-san's smile was gone and his jaw was clenched so hard the skin was white. His eyes were open, and looking at Youichi.

"Come on, Ryou-san," Youichi said again. Hoarse. "Give me a chance."

Ryou-san's voice was barely a whisper. "You don't know what you're asking for."

He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled over. Because—hadn't they just been over this? He knew Ryou-san. He knew exactly what he was asking for.

"Ryou-san. I'm here, aren’t I?"

It must have shown in his grin, because Ryou-san's face flashed irritation, before, unwilling, softening at the edges.

He knew that look too. That was the one that meant Even I didn’t know if you'd make that catch. You’ve managed to surpass my expectations this time. It meant, If I were a different person I'd say 'Well done, Kuramochi.' It was his special look.

He was still holding Ryou-san’s hand in his own. He squeezed it, gently. "Come on, partner. What do you say?"

Ryou-san said, "I suppose there are worse ideas."

Ryou-san's head tipped back. Youichi wasn't an idiot.

Ryou-san's lips were dry. One arm wrapped around his neck, one around his shoulders. Tighter, tighter. His arm slid right around Ryou-san’s waist. Perfectly sized to fit together. He'd known that, too, somehow. Ryou-san felt just right. Of course he did.

Ryousuke's mouth was soft—softer than Youichi had thought. And he had thought, deep down. There was a reason he’d never taken the girls in his class up on their hints, a reason he'd never taken anyone home from a group date. Waiting, all this time, for the time to be right. Until all of a sudden waiting wasn't enough.

He didn't know how far he could push, here. Funny, when he'd just pushed as hard as he could. Ryou-san made a dissatisfied noise. One hand clenched on Youichi's shoulder; body poised, held just centimeters from Youichi's, just far enough for tension to crackle in the space between.

Then – it was like an electric current, a shudder passing through Ryou-san's body, and then Ryou-san had one hand digging into the meat of his shoulder and the other wound in his hair and was molding himself to Youichi, going for his mouth like he was starving, like he'd been thinking about this for a long, long time.

Youichi caught him with both hands and hung on. No room to breathe, to think, just to take as much of Ryou-san as he could. To feel the sharp pain of a hand tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck, the fingernails digging into his shoulder, the hungry, urgent mouth.

Again, and again. He didn’t know how long it went on. He was struggling for breath, gasping – "Ryou-san," into his jaw, the side of his neck, the magic words, "Ryou-san—"

He felt Ryou-san's smile against his cheek. "No need for honorifics, Kuramochi."

"Look who's talking," Youichi managed, between deep, panting breaths. "That the best you can do?"

"What was that, Youichi?" Ryou-san murmured in his ear and Youichi thought he was going to melt down right there in the middle of Ryou-san's apartment. Ryou-san knew it, too, he had the most insufferable knowing smile on his face – Youichi was grinning, grinning so hard it hurt, in relief, in sheer happiness.

Youichi kissed him one more time, long and hard. Ryou-san might look unruffled to outside eyes, but Youichi knew better – the heightened color, the deep breaths, the disordered hair where Youichi had run a hand through it, gathering Ryousuke up toward him. Not that he had anything on Youichi himself. He knew he had to look like he'd just gotten run over, and it gave him a deep, satisfied glow. Bring it. He was ready.

Ryou-san was giving him a long, lingering once-over. Reading his mind again. "You’d better be prepared," he said.

"Hell yeah I am," Youichi said, maybe more fervently than necessary, because something in Ryou-san's eyes kindled, assessing. Youichi's cheeks were warm, but he refused to back down. Ryou-san wanted to go there, Ryou-san could take what he got.

"Hm." Ryou-san eased back down onto his feet – Youichi hadn't realized he'd been on his tiptoes – and smoothed his hands over Youichi's shoulders, patting them once, absent and proprietary. It lit up some sort of nerve center down deep in Youichi’s brain. He was ready, all right, eight days a week.

"Hm," Ryousuke repeated, pensive this time. "I suppose there's no way to avoid mentioning this to Haruichi."

Youichi's train of thought, which had been progressing in a decidedly non-little-brotherly-direction, pulled up short. "Huh?"

Ryousuke's lips made a slight twist of distate. "Haruichi had some words. About... Well."

Youichi laughed—cackled, fine. "I bet."

One eyebrow went up sharply. In anyone else that would be a pout. "Don't think you're getting off so easy, You-san. He wasn't terribly impressed with you, either."

Youichi couldn't help it. He ducked his head to steal another kiss, reveling in the way Ryou-san leaned up into it, leaned into him, didn’t hurry to let go. "I can handle junior," Youichi murmured when it was over, blithely ignoring years of evidence to the contrary

Ryousuke's shoulders quivered – with laughter. "Is that so."

Youichi was carried away on a tide of satisfaction, blissfully invincible. Nothing could touch him. "Sure. The Kominato whisperer. That’s what they call me."

"Do they," Ryou-san said, which, oops, maybe that one had been a mistake – no, that invisible smile was there, and –

"He can wait until I'm done with you," said Ryousuke.

"Sure," Youichi said, husky. "All yours, Ryou-san."

And you better not forget it again, he wanted to add, but from the tiny, tiny smile on Ryousuke's face, he kind of thought he didn't have to.

* * *

"About time," Haruichi sniffed, next time he met Youichi for fast food. "Honestly."

"A lot of help you were," Youichi groused, stealing a handful of his fries as punishment.

"If you can't solve your own problems, why should I be expected to fix them for you?" Haruichi pointed out, which was pretty reasonable, actually, except—

"I didn't know there was one! Which was what it was!"

He stopped to review his pronouns. Haruichi blinked at him. "You-san, are you skipping class again?"

Ryousuke couldn’t remember the last time it hadn’t rained while he was on holiday.

He was currently sitting on a damp bench, feet dangling just above the ground, listening to raindrops pattering on the transparent white umbrella clutched in his small hands. Fortunately the length of his coat saved him from getting his trousers wet, but he didn’t have waterproof shoes and his socks were loudly complaining about being soaked through, squelching pitifully whenever he moved. Mildly annoyed, he sat in silence.

He wondered when the others would be back. His mother had dropped her hat on the path earlier and gone back to get it – Haruichi had followed her, though not without some humming and hawing between her and his brother. Ryousuke had decided to wait at the bench.

They’d come out to Chiba to see a friend of his father’s, as they did every once in a while, but unfortunately his father had been forced to cancel the trip at the last minute because of work. Still, he’d told the other three to go and have fun without him, and Ryousuke’s mother had thought that was a great idea – they could look around more than usual (usually they only stayed for a day and went back in the evening), the kids could have fun in the park while she sat on a bench and enjoyed the sunshine.

Well, they were a bit of the way there. They had explored a lot – so much that Ryousuke’s feet were growing sore and all he wanted was to be back at home instead of sitting in the pouring rain. He was cold, on edge and miserable. His mother could tell he was annoyed and had apologised, even though it wasn’t her fault the weather was so bad. Haruichi had sensed he didn’t want to be bothered and quietly left him alone.

He could see them in the distance, scanning the ground for his mother’s hat, and wondered if he should go over to help.

Nah, they were probably fine. He tried to dispel some of the gloomy weight in his bones, swinging his legs and wiggling his toes to warm his frozen feet.

“Hey.”

Ryousuke looked up. To his surprise, there was someone standing nearby – he’d been too distracted by his own plight to notice.

The person before him was another boy. Judging from his appearance he was probably in his early middle school years like Ryousuke, although he had a few inches on him height-wise. This wasn’t unusual, as much as Ryousuke hated to admit; many people thought he was an elementary schooler upon first meeting him (they were very apologetic once corrected, but it didn’t lessen the sting).

However, the first thing he noticed wasn’t the stranger’s height – it was his hair. Ryousuke had to stifle a laugh; it was styled terribly, for one, as if the other kid had been trying to spike it up, but the combination of rain and probably just amateur styling work had made his fringe stick out in all directions. And the colour, well, the colour was a whole other story. He’d definitely tried to dye it (“tried” being the operative word) but Ryousuke could barely tell what colour he’d been going for. It was currently a weird mix of pale green, yellow and dark brown – a bleaching job gone wrong, no doubt. He’d probably been trying to go blond.

Talk about bad first impressions. Ryousuke made a half-hearted effort to conceal his amusement. “What do you want?”

“Are you like… okay? Is there anyone with you?”

His tone was more concerned than Ryousuke had been expecting, but it only irritated him; this guy probably wasn’t any older than he was. He sat up on the bench, trying to look a bit taller. “I can take care of myself, thanks.”

The other looked taken aback. “Chill out, I was just asking. Where are your parents?”

“Where are yours?” Ryousuke retorted.

“My mum’s buying a drink, she’ll be back soon. But I’m allowed to be left on my own. I dunno how old you are, but you look—”

“I’m thirteen,” Ryousuke said, giving him one of his harsher stares.

The other boy’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh. Sorry. You don’t look thirteen.” He then seemed to realise that was the wrong thing to say and started stumbling even more, gesturing frantically with his hands. “I-I mean, that’s not a bad thing! You can fool people, and, uh, hide in small places…”

Ryousuke wondered how old he’d thought he was – eleven? Ten? Nine, even? That had happened before. Even so, despite the irritation, an element of satisfaction settled in him whenever this happened, like he now had the upper hand. He cut him off in the middle of his babbling. “How old are you?”

“Uh. Twelve.”

The satisfaction grew, and so did Ryousuke’s smile. It was apparently a little unnerving, if the look he received was any indication. Waving his hands, the newcomer tried to move the conversation along. “Are your parents actually nearby?”

“Kind of. Me, my brother and my mother are here for the weekend.” Ryousuke turned to the path. “They’re over there—”

He then stopped in surprise. His mother and Haruichi had disappeared from where he’d last seen them – he wondered if they’d gone to look for the hat elsewhere, but surely they would’ve come back for him if they were going out of his sight, right? He knew for a fact that they would never leave him stranded in the rain like this, and his mother wasn’t the type to forget a child.

“You okay?” The other sounded worried again. “Are they gone?”

“They’ll be back,” Ryousuke replied levelly.

“If you say so.” He fidgeted for a moment, and then stuck out his hand. “Oh, by the way, I’m Youichi! What about you?”

Ryousuke considered the hand for a moment. He had a plaster on his index finger – who knows how he’d gotten that. He took it. “Kominato Ryousuke.”

There was a pause. Ryousuke studied him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up with your hair?”

That caught Youichi off guard. He jerked back indignantly, hands flying up to his hair and squashing it back as if trying to hide it. “H-hey, it’s not that bad! This damn rain is messing it up!”

“Really? It looks like you just suck at bleaching to me. Or did you mean to turn your hair into grass?”

“Shut up! It was my first try, okay? I’ll do it right next time!”

“Why’re you even dyeing it in the first place?”

“It’s cool!”

“Really.”

“What do you know about what’s cool? You’re only a year older than me!”

They were so engrossed in their argument that neither of them noticed the footsteps approaching from their right, until a voice Ryousuke didn’t recognise cut into their conversation. “Youichi, we can hear you yelling from halfway across the park! What’s happening?”

The two kids looked up, and Ryousuke saw to his surprise that as well as the new person, his mother and Haruichi were there, the latter holding onto her arm while staring nervously at the scene. Ryousuke took one look at the stranger, then back to Youichi, and knew that she must be his mother. She actually looked pretty young – if Youichi hadn’t mentioned waiting for his mother earlier he might’ve thought she was his older sister.

Youichi stuttered, clearly too proud to start crying to his mother about his hair being insulted. “N-nothing’s happening! Sorry. It’s fine.” His gaze then travelled to the other two, looking confused, then his eyes widened with realisation.

“I hope you two are getting along.” Ryousuke’s mother urged him off the bench, and Haruichi left her side to go and linger under his brother’s umbrella. Ryousuke saw Youichi’s eyes travel to him and immediately stiffened; he’d seen guys like Youichi pick on Haruichi before, but fortunately there was no ill intent in his gaze, just plain curiosity.

He allowed himself to relax a little, and realised that for a moment he’d completely forgotten about his soaked trainers.

His mother clasped her hands together. “What a coincidence, though! Kuramochi-san was the one who found my hat, and she mentioned she had her son with her, then we come back to see that you two met while we were gone. I just wish it was a nicer day to spend together,” she admitted, looking at the drenched park from under her umbrella. “My hat got soaked, but that was to be expected.”

Ryousuke blinked. “Wait, spend the day together?”

“Is that alright?” She smiled. “This is the first time we’ve stayed here for more than a few hours. It’d be good to get out of this rain, and Kuramochi-san said there’s an arcade nearby.” She was met with an enthusiastic nod from the latter.

Youichi’s eyes grew as round as saucers. “We can go to the arcade? Really?!”

His mother laughed. “Sure! Today’s treat.”

A grin broke out across Youichi’s features, followed by a loud peal of laughter as he sprang ahead of the others and off down the path. It was still pouring, and his trainers splashed in the water again and again from puddle to puddle – he probably didn’t even care that he was the only one without an umbrella.

His mother did, though. “Youichi, come out of the rain! You’ll get sick!”

“I won’t!” was the reply.

She just sighed and shook her head. “There he goes again, always running off. Hopefully he’ll grow out of it soon.” She laughed and Ryousuke’s mother agreed, the two striking up conversation once more as they began to make their way over to the park exit.

The arcade wasn’t huge, but that clearly didn’t matter to Youichi. He’d been several steps ahead of them for the whole journey and this time was no different – he kept darting from one game to the next, wanting to try them all before they had to leave. Ryousuke was also looking around, Haruichi hovering behind him. They hadn’t been to a place like this in a while.

Their mothers hung back from the three kids, giving them space to observe. Youichi was just making a turn deeper into the arcade when Ryousuke suddenly felt a tug on his wrist, and looked back to see Haruichi trying to get his attention. “What is it?”

Haruichi pointed at a cabinet across the room. “There’s a baseball game over there.”

His voice was quiet, but Youichi still heard and spun around. “You play baseball?”

“We both do,” Ryousuke replied as Haruichi jumped in surprise. “He started because of me.”

“Really? I play as well!” Youichi crossed the distance between them in a few bounds. “Wanna try that game?”

Haruichi nodded enthusiastically and Ryousuke shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

They talked a bit while playing – Haruichi had taken a liking to Youichi and was beginning to open up to him more, which Youichi took well, to Ryousuke’s relief. He seemed surprised when he found out they both played the same position, although he didn’t say anything about it (the truth was that the two brothers would never be able to play in a game together, after all) but he was moreso excited. “I play shortstop,” he said. “If only we lived closer, we could play together!”

His mother then complained about the weather; if it was better the three of them could play catch in the park, and Ryousuke found himself missing the sun again.

Though as he stepped back and let Haruichi take his turn, he watched Youichi moving the controls and laughing and decided that maybe this wasn’t so bad. Their trips to Chiba were usually mind-numbingly boring; his parents would talk to their friend over a meal and Ryousuke and Haruichi would have to keep themselves entertained, but despite the rain, today had perked up a lot in the past hour. He could get used to this.

He was glad when they agreed to meet up on the Sunday as well, before the Kominato family had to leave. Again, the weather was horrible, with torrential rain and cars driving through murky puddles at the side of the road, drenching everyone who stood too close. Though as far as Youichi was concerned, the rain may as well not have been there. The moment he saw Ryousuke his mouth stretched into one of those enthusiastic grins and he shot out from under his mother’s umbrella, calling out. “Ryou-chan!”

This time, he was quickly yanked back.

Their mothers started talking once again as they walked, having decided to go for lunch. Youichi fell in step with Ryousuke and Haruichi, immediately enthusing about baseball and the most recent games they’d played, then going on to chatter extensively about Matsui Kazuo. He was easy to talk to, Ryousuke found; there were barely any awkward pauses. Even Haruichi joined in.

Ryousuke asked him when he was going to try and re-dye his hair, and Youichi covered his head again self-consciously, making Ryousuke laugh. “Tomorrow! Or y’know, next week. Or something.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it then, since we’re going back to Kanagawa in a few hours.”

He wasn’t expecting Youichi to look so dispirited at that. The other’s face fell and he looked away. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Dejected wasn’t a good look on him. Ryousuke made a mental note to avoid making it a common one, although he wasn’t sure why Youichi hadn’t just brushed it off. Of course he was going back; they’d known that from the start.

The brief spell of gloom was gone by the time lunch rolled around and they were happily tucking in. Ryousuke’s mother offered him a bit of her meal – it was some kind of fish and extremely spicy, but Ryousuke liked it.

“He has pretty advanced taste buds,” Kuramochi’s mother said, surprised. “Youichi here has a hard time with anything more than chips.” Her son choked indignantly (on his chips). “Hey, I can eat other stuff! I just like simple things more!”

She ruffled his hair despite his attempts at evading her hand, smiling at the others. “Maybe the spice tolerance just runs in the family.”

She was proven wrong moments later; Haruichi asked for a bite of the fish and was flailing and chugging water immediately while Ryousuke reminded him that this always happened every time he tried something spicy. While he and his mother may be partial to stronger food, Haruichi couldn’t handle much, yet he always insisted on trying some if Ryousuke did.

He pushed some bread in his direction. “Eat something else. It’ll help.”

Haruichi bit into the bread without questions, his face red.

Youichi’s eyes were wide in alarm, though he was grinning. “You okay?”

A firm nod, despite the tears brimming in Haruichi’s eyes. Ryousuke passed him one of the tissues from the table. Letting the bread fall, Haruichi took it and rubbed at his burning face.

“Careful. Don’t get it in your eye.”

“I’m fine,” Haruichi croaked, then started coughing again. Ryousuke sighed and rubbed his back, then caught sight of Youichi watching him. When he saw Ryousuke staring back, he coughed and looked away.

They sat around the table for a long time. Youichi eventually bugged his mother for his DS, and then scooted around the side of the table to show the other two. He didn’t have much with him – just a couple of Mario games, but he was good and Haruichi was captivated. Ryousuke played video games occasionally, but he was average at best and was well aware his younger brother was growing better than him.

However, it looked like Youichi was even more skilled. “Careful,” he was saying, instructing Haruichi. “Don’t fall into the- no, no, go left! Go left! Okay, okay, good. Stay away from the lava.”

“We don’t need you burning up again,” Ryousuke agreed.

Haruichi giggled a bit, but it was overshadowed by the barking laugh that exploded from Youichi, which he quickly stifled by clamping a hand over his mouth. Ryousuke stared at him. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“I-It wasn’t? Sure. ‘Course.” He laughed nervously, quickly resuming his coaching. “Anyway, uh, where were we…”

They were interrupted by his mother. “The sun’s out!”

And sure enough, it was. There were still a few clouds in the sky but they were slowly filing out, leaving the sun’s light to shine undisturbed over the ground and in through the window of the building. Ryousuke felt its warmth settling over his face, and he suddenly wanted to be anywhere rather than indoors.

His mother was the same. She stood up quickly, beginning to put her things away. “We should go to the park for a bit! We have to catch the train in an hour, so we may as well go out while it’s nice.”

Ryousuke welcomed the sun on his skin once they were out and stretched, feeling his joints practically sigh in relief. Youichi looked positively elated and was already speeding across the grass while their mothers sat on a sheltered bench nearby – they seemed to have exhausted their collection of things to talk about by now and Ryousuke could see his mother reading quietly, while Youichi’s mother was doing something on her phone.

He turned back to Youichi, then realised he was nowhere in sight.

Two seconds later he felt a jab on his arm and spun around to see Youichi racing away in the other direction, looking back at him with a grin. “Tag!”

Ah. So this was how they were doing things.

He scanned the clearing and saw Haruichi edging away from him at the side, and made a beeline for him instead of Youichi who was obviously faster. Haruichi saw him coming and yelped, dashing away. “Ryou-chan, no!”

He couldn’t outrun him for long, though, and soon Haruichi was caught. Then Youichi after he accidentally tripped while calling something to Ryousuke, and then Ryousuke again. This time Ryousuke made it his mission to catch Youichi – without taking advantage of a stumble – and raced after him instead of his brother.

Youichi darted into the woods. Ryousuke followed, hoping Haruichi wouldn’t try to follow them for his own sake.

They darted around from tree to tree, Youichi just fast enough to keep out of Ryousuke’s reach. He was quick on his feet and extremely nimble as well, leaping over roots and around bushes, turning on his heel and shooting off in another direction like a whip. Even all this wasn’t enough to tire Ryousuke out, however, and he soon found he was cornering Youichi; the woods weren’t without obstacles, after all. He eventually drove Youichi into a circle of bushes and trees, and was practically certain he had him, when all of a sudden Youichi grabbed the nearest tree branch and hauled himself upwards just out of Ryousuke’s reach.

Ryousuke slowed to a stop below him, breath coming in huffs. He searched for a way to follow him, but the tree had a straight trunk and the only reason Youichi had been able to climb up was because he was taller than him. “That’s cheating.”

“I am a cheetah, y’know,” Youichi joked, smiling down from his perch.

Ryousuke grimaced. “That was terrible. Do people actually call you that?”

“A couple.”

“Lame.”

“You’re lame!”

“You’re the one hiding in a tree,” Ryousuke told him, folding his arms. “Get back down here.”

Youichi shrugged. “Why don’t you come up here?”

Ryousuke gave him a harsh stare.

“If you can’t get up here, that means I’ve won. I got away.”

“That’s not how the game works.”

“Oh yeah? Did you invent tag? People make up rules all the time!” He stuck out his tongue. “C’mon, come get me.”

Ryousuke had half a mind to actually attempt climbing the tree then, despite how slimy the trunk was from the rain and how undignified it’d probably look, but the light around distracted him. Warm orange tinted the trees, and the sky was beginning to turn a deep red. The sun was setting. “What’s the time?”

Youichi blinked. “Uh, I dunno. I don’t have a watch.”

“We should probably go back,” Ryousuke mused. “Our train might be coming soon.”

“Oh.” Youichi looked down at the ground, not meeting his gaze. “Yeah. That’s true.”

There was a pause, and then Ryousuke turned, ready to go back. “Let’s go.”

He wondered where Haruichi had gone. He hadn’t heard or caught sight of him during the chase, so hopefully he’d just returned to the adults. It would be bad if he’d gotten himself lost, but he was just stubborn, not senseless. He usually knew what he was doing.

Taking a couple of steps away from the tree, he heard a soft thump behind him as Youichi jumped to the ground. “W-wait!”

Ryousuke stopped, but before he could ask what was wrong a hand on his arm pulled him backwards and Youichi kissed him on the cheek.

He then released him, stepping back. Ryousuke stared at him. Youichi’s face was growing redder by the second as he waited for him to say something.

So he did. “What was that?”

“Sorry.” The word seemed to fall from Youichi’s mouth involuntarily. “I just. I. I wanted to. I guess.”

“Do you have a crush on me?”

He hadn’t thought it was possible for Youichi’s face to get any redder than it currently was, but his cheeks were beginning to match the scarlet sky as he started babbling and gesturing wildly. “I-I dunno! I like you, but I dunno if I like you. In that way, I mean. I mean I guess when you want to kiss someone it kinda does mean there’s something involved but-”

“Youichi,” Ryousuke said, his tone even despite the surprise, “you’ve known me for two days. There’s no way you could like me already.”

Youichi bit his lip, feet scuffing up dirt. “Really?”

“Really.” Plus, Ryousuke didn’t feel that way about him – how could he, after two days? He didn’t think he’d ever had a crush on anyone, actually. Liking someone after only a weekend just wouldn’t make sense.

“I guess.” Youichi looked down at his feet. He didn’t look upset, really, just thoughtful and moderately confused. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Nah.” Ryousuke allowed himself to smile. “But for a wannabe punk, you sure are easy to embarrass.”

Youichi pouted at him, about to protest, but stopped when Ryousuke patted his head, eyes widening in surprise.

Ryousuke spoke. “Tag.”

Youichi only managed to get out a “What?” before Ryousuke was gone, darting away through the trees. He could hear him speeding after him, calling out indignantly. “You didn’t give me any warning!”

“No warnings in tag,” Ryousuke called back, picking up his pace and making sure he was out of the trees before Youichi.

They were greeted by their parents, along with Haruichi, who to Ryousuke’s relief had elected to stay with his mother instead of follow them into the woods. Youichi’s mother said she would love to walk them to the station, but it was in the opposite direction to their apartment and they would have to get back for dinner soon, so they decided to part ways at the park entrance.

Their mothers exchanged contact information. Youichi’s mother said enthusiastically that they should definitely call her next time they were in Chiba. The kids didn’t do much aside from wave and say goodbye, though Youichi’s grin was back as if the little incident from earlier had never happened.

“You can call him, you know,” Ryousuke’s mother told him once they were on the train. “We have their landline.”

He shrugged, staring at the buildings and trees flying past the window. “Maybe.”

Unfortunately, he never ended up doing it. And due to the family friend moving away from that part of Chiba they never had any reason to go back, either. At first their mothers kept in contact, exchanging emails and even calling a couple of times at first, but gradually this too slowed to a stop.

By the time he was in high school, Youichi was nothing but a small memory at the back of Ryousuke’s mind.

***

The thing about small memories was that they usually came back to you at some point, whether it was just because of a little reminder or something bigger. And in this case, it was the latter.

Ryousuke stood on the Seidou baseball field, lined up with the other players. It was a misty April morning, in his first week as a second year. He was cold, but stood still as they watched the coach walk down the line of new first years, their shouts of greeting cutting through the air one by one.

“Good afternoon!”

“Good afternoon!”

“Good afternoon!”

“Yo!”

Silence rang through the air, as every player on the field who knew how strict high school baseball was tensed up and waited for the coach’s response. Inwardly, Ryousuke rolled his eyes. He supposed it wasn’t abnormal for someone to be unfamiliar with the rules - or maybe they were just plain rude. Either way, they wouldn’t last if they kept it up.

The mumbled apology after the coach’s warning told him it had probably just been a mistake, and the procedure carried on.

Without Kataoka blocking the offender from view, Ryousuke was able to see him clearly. Something in his mind stirred; this person was familiar somehow, although he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

That is, until he saw him smile, probably thinking to himself about something, and it all came rushing back.

He recognised the spiked up hair – though it was considerably darker and better styled than it had been before – and how his eyes lit up with his grin, yet their shape had somewhat changed with maturity as well as the rest of his face. He couldn’t tell from his position, but the height difference between them didn’t look as though it had changed. Ryousuke was marginally annoyed, though at least it hadn’t increased.

He wondered if Youichi would remember him if he saw him, but his question was answered just a few seconds later. Youichi seemed to sense someone’s eyes on him and glanced over in Ryousuke’s direction. When their eyes met, he stared for a couple of seconds, and then his eyes widened and he looked away, visibly alarmed even from where Ryousuke was standing.

So he did remember. It seemed he was still bad at disguising his emotions. Ryousuke watched him, saw him fidget as he stood, throwing brief glances in his direction occasionally and then quickly looking back to the coach. Ryousuke smiled to himself.

This was going to be fun.

***

Ryousuke made sure not to treat Youichi any differently to any other player, making sure he used his last name to avoid any questions from the team. The first time he tossed to him, Youichi fumbled and dropped the ball despite it being a pretty simple (although strong) throw.

“Catch something that simple, will you?” Ryousuke told him calmly. “You suck.”

The resulting indignant shout that came out of Youichi’s mouth reminded Ryousuke of their first meeting, when he’d made fun of his hair, and he chuckled to himself.

He kept a careful check on his words; he knew Youichi was probably questioning whether he remembered him or not, and Ryousuke wanted to keep that information to himself for now. Plus, it wasn’t like Ryousuke was going to treat him any kinder even with their brief history. Youichi had come to Seidou, and from the looks of it he needed to get used to the fact that nothing he wanted would simply fall straight into his lap around here.

After a few days, Ryousuke started noticing things about him that were different. The obvious thing was his hair – he’d clearly stopped dyeing it in the time between when he’d met Ryousuke and now, despite saying he would carry on. Then again, high school baseball didn’t allow players to dye their hair, so it was probably something to do with that. He still styled it skywards and had considerably improved over the years – the floppy grass-like mop on his head was gone.

Then there were the smaller things. His nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken once and never set back into the proper position. The way he watched the upperclassmen practice and studied their movements showed clear development in his observation skills, something Ryousuke hadn’t picked up on from twelve year old Youichi. Then there were the few small scars Ryousuke had noticed in a few places, mainly his face and hands.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Youichi had gotten up to while they’d been apart.

Both of them had clearly changed, and he was sure Youichi picked up on his own changes pretty quickly. Going to Seidou had heightened Ryousuke’s wits and harshness even more than before, despite him never being a soft person. He’d always been tasked with the role of the strong older sibling and protecting his younger brother, and now he had something else to protect: his position. There were plenty of other players who could swipe the rug out from underneath him if he faltered even slightly, and Ryousuke hated losing, couldn’t afford to lose.

Those thoughts rang through his head as he swung his bat with the other second years outside the warehouse, thoughts of the new first years strong in everyone’s minds. Many had shown a lot of promise, and the upperclassmen were all on their guard.

“Uh, Ryou- er, Kominato-senpai?” A voice broke him out of his thoughts mid-swing, and he stopped his practice to see Youichi approaching, glove and baseball in his hand. “What is it?”

“I.” He faltered, looking down at his feet. It was a little dark; the sun was setting, but Ryousuke could make out the reddened tips of his ears. He wasn’t sure what to expect, so he just waited.

Youichi then met his eyes, gaze filled with fresh resolve. “Can we practice? I wanna be able to catch your throws right.”

The corner of Ryousuke’s mouth twitched upwards. “You think it’ll be that easy to fix?”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m not that bad!”

“Your catches disagree. As does your batting, throwing accuracy and pretty much everything except your speed.” Youichi choked and Ryousuke didn’t wait for him to gather his thoughts. “We can practice, but only one or two sessions isn’t going to help. If you don’t commit, you’ll never even make it onto the first string.”

It was harsh, and Youichi was actually one of the only two first years (the other being one of the new catchers, Miyuki) to have the first string within their sight. The line-up for the upcoming tournament had not yet been decided and Ryousuke was pretty certain the two of them wouldn’t fall short with how things were going, but Youichi was less secure. He never skipped practice, but there was definitely more he could do, and Ryousuke knew that he was beginning to realise it. He wouldn’t have asked about practice otherwise.

Still, Youichi’s indignity disappeared at his agreement and his laugh returned with full force. “Nice! Great. Thanks, Kominato-senpai.”

His last name sounded strange in Youichi’s voice, but the way he laughed was greatly familiar.

As promised, their practices became a regular thing. Youichi didn’t seem to care about it often eating into their free time hours and was responding well to Ryousuke’s harsh teaching style, though Ryousuke never praised him with more than a simple “good” when one of his throws hit just the right mark or when he caught a difficult toss. He was still a chatty person – surprising, since he dodged the topic of almost anything other than baseball or Seidou. He supposed their first meeting was still weighing on his mind.

When Youichi was placed on the first string, he was ecstatic.

“I guess your strict coaching did help,” he said, beaming as they stood by the vending machines after the announcement. Ryousuke clicked his tongue as he pressed one of the buttons. “There’s plenty more where that came from. Don’t get too cocky; you’re not a regular yet.”

Youichi laughed. “Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t dream of it, Ryou-chan.”

Silence.

Ryousuke raised his eyebrows. “Ryou-chan?”

Youichi’s eyes went wide. “I-I-I mean, Ryou… Ryou-san?” He gulped. “Um. That was an accident.”

“Really?” Ryousuke smiled, and Youichi paled. “Old habits die hard, it seems.”

“Wait, you… What?!”

He continued to stammer in shock as Ryousuke took his sports drink, still smiling as he turned away and left him, bewildered, by the vending machines.

“See you at dinner, Youichi.”

Ryousuke definitely heard him swear quietly under his breath as he left.

***

Kuramochi Youichi was having a crisis.

He was fucked. Boned. Up hell’s creek without a paddle, or whatever you wanted to call it. The worst part was that he hadn’t even seen it coming; Ryousuke had been merely a minor memory up until now. Then they’d glimpsed each other in the line-up on his first day at Seidou, and suddenly Ryousuke wasn’t so much of a thought any more and more of a relentless troubling existence in Youichi’s field of vision.

At first Youichi had been unsure as to whether Ryousuke remembered him or not, but yesterday had made it clear.

It had been easy to put the feelings of the two-day crush behind him, but he could tell Ryousuke remembered. He wouldn’t let him forget, god damnit – the knowledge was in every glance he sent his way, boring a hole through his back. Ryousuke wasn’t merciful, he remembered that much, but this trait seemed to have amplified even further over the years and grown into something he hadn’t exactly been prepared for.

Then again, many things at Seidou were more intense than he’d anticipated, like the coach’s stare or the long, gruelling hours of practice that had Youichi lying in his bed at night with aching limbs and wondering just how long it would take for his body to adjust to this new method of torture. And with Ryousuke involved, he had another thing to worry about.

Ryousuke was like a blade, sharp and polished enough at every inch to give off a lethal shine. The sinister aura surrounding him whenever he smiled was also new. Youichi wasn’t the only one to have noticed it, either; others in his year were starting to regard him as one of the scariest upperclassmen.

He supposed he could see how the traits of younger Ryousuke had grown into this. A child’s taunting into a sharp tongue, a composed attitude into a chilling presence. Part of him wondered how exactly these changes had taken place, but looking at the atmosphere and unwritten rules of Seidou, he could understand.

Youichi watched him from the dugout, saw him bend his knees and study the pitcher with close concentration as he contemplated going for a steal. The sunlight glowed over his shoulders, across his hair and the bridge of his nose, creating a shining halo around his frame and highlighting the defined muscles in his arms. He swallowed, because this was another problem.

Ryousuke had grown up extremely pretty. There was no other way to describe it.

The kid crush had definitely been a kid crush, small and easy to forget, but now it didn’t seem like just a memory anymore no matter how much he tried to keep a check on it and Youichi cursed himself inwardly. For starters he could never say anything about it because of how flat-out weird the situation sounded to someone else. If he told anyone it would seem like he’d been pining after Ryousuke all this time, which he hadn’t, damnit – he’d even had a girlfriend in middle school, though that had lasted for two weeks at best. It just sounded downright creepy. He grimaced.

When Ryousuke reached home, Youichi congratulated him enthusiastically. “Nice run, Ryou-san!”

The nickname was half involuntary and half a cause from earlier and he stiffened, wondering if it was stepping over the line, but to his relief he wasn’t reprimanded. Ryousuke just raised his eyebrows, smiling, and jogged past. Youichi watched him go, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Miyuki snickered from behind him, and Youichi hissed at him to shut up.

Ryousuke’s jabs only made him want to prove himself to him more – and the more he thought about it, the more he understood the aim was indeed to make him better. And if there was one thing Youichi didn’t want to do, it was to look like a fool in front of Ryousuke, so he stepped up his game at every opportunity he found.

He performed excellently in one practice game, reaching home smoothly with swift feet and no hiccups. Ryousuke praised him then, and Youichi felt his heart skip, then wanted to yell at his chest to get it to stop.

It was like a game of tag, he thought. Like the one they’d played in the woods, but this time Youichi was it, and Ryousuke was incredibly good at dodging, swerving just out of his reach whenever Youichi thought he’d figured something out or gotten a little closer to connecting with him. They were both very stubborn people, even if in different ways.

And that meant that Youichi wasn’t going to give up so easily – and Ryousuke wasn’t going to let him.

***

“I can’t get it down,” Nori said, pacing in circles around the base of the tree. “It’s stuck.”

Ryousuke paused his post-practice cleaning and looked up. A baseball was wedged up in the branches, too high for any of the players (even Tanba) to reach. “Have you tried shaking the tree?”

“I have, but it just won’t come loose.”

“Hm.”

A yell resounded across the field, gradually growing louder as it approached, and Ryousuke saw a figure flash past them and launch themselves at the tree, pretty much drop-kicking the trunk. When his attack did nothing, Jun stumbled back. “Damn it!”

Ryousuke stared at him. “Do you want to break your legs?”

“What’s going on?”

He hadn’t noticed Youichi approach. He was standing behind him, looking at the small crowd with confusion etched upon his face.

Nori explained. “Someone hit a baseball into the tree earlier, and it won’t come down.”

“Oh.” Youichi blinked. “Is that all? Can’t we just leave it?”

“Leave it?” Jun looked outraged. “Every baseball counts, moron!”

“But this school has so many,” Ryousuke heard Youichi mutter under his breath. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly an idea dawned on him.

He turned, a smile on his face. “Why don’t you get it, Kuramochi?”

“Huh? Why me?”

“Aren’t you good at climbing trees?”

Youichi seemed to choke on air. Nori and most of the others just looked confused, but Jun wasn’t fazed at all. “You are? Then get up here and get this thing down!”

Ryousuke heard him mumble something that sounded like “why can’t you do it yourself” and fixed him with a piercing stare, the smile still present on his face. “What was that?”

“N-nothing, Ryou-san.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Youichi sized up the tree, then took a few steps back, measuring the distance. It wasn’t a tree that was easily climbable; there were no lower branches to hold onto, so he had to rely on momentum. Bouncing on his heels and bending his knees in a way that reminded Ryousuke of how he crouched while on base, he bunched his muscles and took off.

He took a flying leap onto the trunk, propelling himself upwards and grasping the closest branch, dangling for a moment before hauling himself up and managing to regain his balance. A cheer came from several people below and he grinned, seemingly enjoying the attention, before making his way over to where the ball was wedged.

It was in a tricky spot – a cluster of twigs at the thinner end of one of the branches, and as Youichi edged along the branch Ryousuke felt worry stirring in his gut. If Youichi fell and didn’t right himself in time, he could injure himself. Why hadn’t he thought about that?

He quickly pushed the thought away. Youichi wouldn’t fall.

And he didn’t. He grabbed the baseball with no casualties, sitting back into a safer spot and holding it up in triumph. “I got it!”

No one cheered for him this time. For a moment he looked confused, until he spotted the shadow in the crowd that hadn’t been there before and froze. Despite it being July already, the temperature of their surroundings seemed to drop several degrees below freezing.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

All the players had gone completely still at the sight of their coach, and Youichi in particular looked like he wanted to fall out of the tree and be swallowed up by the ground. He stared at Kataoka, the colour draining from his face. He pointed at the baseball. “I. Uh.”

Kataoka’s face was as stony as ever. “Get down and run ten more laps.”

“What?! But I didn’t—”

“Don’t talk back. The two who encouraged him can run as well.”

Jun gritted his teeth. Ryousuke could safely say he regretted making the joke.

“This is your fault,” Youichi complained as they ran after apologising to the coach. Ryousuke huffed. “Maybe you should’ve gone from the moment I said go, then, before he showed up.”

“He was in the area the whole time! How else did he know you told me to do it?”

“And how did I know you were good at climbing trees? The world is full of mysteries, Kuramochi.”

Youichi squinted at him. “Are you messing with me?”

“Am I? The team didn’t seem to think anything of it.”

He looked away, his ears reddening. “Ugh, never mind. I don’t understand you.”

Jun finished first, attempting to turn and yell at Ryousuke for getting them into this situation, but was distracted by Tetsu calling him over. He didn’t leave without a few parting words, though. “Next time, don’t tell the first years to do stupid shit!”

Ryousuke wasn’t going to let him get away with that. He wondered how he’d react if one of his favourite manga volumes mysteriously disappeared, or ended up in the worst possible hands, or—

“He’s got a point, y’know,” Youichi said as they slowed and approached the water fountains.

“Oh?” Twisting the tap on, Ryousuke turned to him, the smile settling back on his face. “And what would that be?”

His thoughts then ground to a halt. Youichi had pulled off his shirt and was currently soaking his hair underneath the running tap, water travelling in streams down his face. When he straightened up, ready with a response, Ryousuke hardly registered what he was saying. The evening light glistened on his hair, flattened by the water, the muscles in his arms flexing as he stretched. Staring at him, Ryousuke felt heat curl in his stomach, his mouth going dry.

“Ryou-san? Hey, are you okay?”

Ryousuke snapped himself back to reality. “I’m fine. Go on ahead.”

He then turned the tap up to full blast and dunked his head under the stream of freezing water.

***

Summer break happened not long after that, and in the time leading up to it Ryousuke came to several conclusions.

First of all, Youichi was definitely crushing on him again – he’d suspected it before, but now that he was thinking about it and watching him it became even more obvious. He was observant, but not very good at concealing his own behaviour, and the way his face lit up whenever Ryousuke was around said just as much as the blush on the back of his neck every time Ryousuke said anything remotely indicative to test the waters. He highly doubted this had been present ever since they’d first met; maybe their first meeting had put the idea in his head, but this seemed new, and he suspected Youichi was wrestling with it far more than he was.

Second of all, after the fountain incident he had to admit eventually that Youichi was good-looking. And once he’d gotten that thought, he kept getting reminded of it, via brilliantly bright grins in his direction and focused stares on the field. And the fact that Youichi liked him just somehow made him more endearing, which led on to Ryousuke’s third unfortunate conclusion: he was pretty sure he was developing feelings for Youichi as well.

He’d never liked anyone before. When Haruichi had come to him in his first year of middle school and asked him for advice on what to do about a crush, he’d had pretty much no idea. He hadn’t given him any advice, just told him to ask mother or something. As it turned out, he was still no good with these matters.

Of course, his situation was actually simpler than Haruichi’s – he knew the other person liked him back, so what was the problem? He wasn’t living under a rock; he knew that the obvious course of action would be to tell Youichi, because he had no idea whether Youichi would do it himself. And therein lay the problem. The more he thought about it, the more doing this the normal way didn’t appeal to Ryousuke in the slightest. All the examples he’d seen – anxious people standing in front of the person they liked and coming straight out with it, possibly even with a gift or something – the thought of being in anything remotely close to that position just made him grimace.

He knew he just wasn’t that type of person. If he was going to let Youichi know his feelings were reciprocated, he wasn’t going to just tell him. He’d let him know, sure, but not like that.

As he pondered it over summer break, September drawing closer and closer, Ryousuke decided what to do.

***

If this had been anyone but Ryousuke, it probably would’ve resulted in many slip-ups and embarrassments bad enough to send every witness withering onto the ground. Fortunately, Ryousuke was a naturally smooth person, and this method was surprisingly fun.

At Youichi’s expense, of course. Their practices together had finally paid off, and Youichi was now the starting shortstop, the two of them forming Seidou’s keystone combo. He let him pass through his first game uninterrupted – their debut game, he reminded himself, and once he was certain Youichi was focused enough that he wouldn’t let anything distract him, he went ahead with it.

After they won their second game, he patted his ass on the way back to the dugout. “Good job.”

Youichi’s startled squawk was worth it.

They won two more games before being knocked out that autumn, and as time went on Ryousuke began to get better at integrating his tactics in with normal actions. Whoops, did he just brush Youichi’s hand while taking the bat from him? Completely unintentional. And so were all the times after that, too. A couple of times he noticed Youichi lingering his hand near Ryousuke’s afterwards, and Ryousuke wished he would just hurry up and take it or something. As well as trying to make him realise, he was also trying to get him to bring the topic to light. Either was good. Both were preferable.

Youichi’s throws and catches had improved by leaps and bounds ever since April, and had been growing more solid ever since. Often Ryousuke found himself wondering what it would’ve been like to have played baseball with him since they were kids, and how it would’ve been to watch each other grow (he still didn’t know the details of Youichi’s middle school days, but suspected he wasn’t exactly a model student). He could already read him so well, but he wanted to know him better.

And if his eyes were any indication, Youichi wanted to know Ryousuke, too. He would’ve been frustrated at Youichi’s lack of initiative had he not been guilty of the exact same thing.

It wasn’t really clear to Ryousuke why he couldn’t tell Youichi outright – he just couldn’t, and that was that. There was something too open about it, too revealing.

For that reason, nothing happened that autumn. There was a continuous back-and-forth flow of flirting – Ryousuke instigating it, and Youichi either being startled or responding uncertainly (usually in conjunction with the former). While his alarm was amusing, Ryousuke wished the latter was more common.

One evening, when they were the only people clearing away the equipment from the dugout, Ryousuke passed him a baseball from his right, brushing his arm slightly with his own. “You forgot this.”

Youichi’s breath jumped a little and he took it, staring down at Ryousuke. He saw his eyes dart down to his lips. Cute.

“Thanks.” Youichi shoved the baseball into his bag and looked away, his ears red again. Hoisting the bag up onto his shoulder, he glanced back. “Want to get a drink after?”

Ryousuke smiled. “Sure.”

After putting the bags back into the storage house, talking idly as they went, they made their way over to the vending machines. It was already pretty dark, though the warmth from practice was still glowing in their bones and neither of them was cold. Ryousuke was pretty tired, honestly – too tired to hint at anything else while they were there, and let Youichi take his drink in peace, turning to leave after he’d taken his own.

“Ah, Ryou-san?”

He turned. “Hm?”

“You have something in your hair.”

Before he could react, Youichi’s hand was hovering at the side of his face, brushing out what he saw was a leaf, but Ryousuke didn’t really care about that right now. Briefly Youichi’s fingertips grazed the side of his face, his thumb lingering for a moment on his cheek, the touch on his hair sending electricity sparking in his chest, and Ryousuke felt his own breath betray him and hitch quietly. He hoped Youichi hadn’t heard anything, but from the way his eyes widened and his hand froze, he’d definitely caught it.

A moment passed that felt like an eternity, and in that time Ryousuke realised that, if he wanted to, Youichi was just as capable of pushing the right buttons to mess him up as Ryousuke had been doing to him. His eyes drifted to Youichi’s lips, his jawline, and he wondered what it would be like to cradle his face, tangle his hands in his hair, pull him down so their lips met—

Youichi suddenly jerked his hand away, turning around and making for the dorms. “I-I’ll see you later.”

Ryousuke’s senses came flooding back to him and he suddenly realised he couldn’t let him get away while having the upper hand. Grabbing his wrist, he pulled him back towards him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

As Youichi stared at him, mouth hanging open in shock, Ryousuke smiled, glad Youichi couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating. “That was payback.”

He left, taking his drink with him.

***

They had the next two days off. Ryousuke went home to see Haruichi and his parents, talked to his brother about Seidou for a bit; he would be going there in a few months, after all. More than once, he considered asking his mother if she still had the Kuramochi family’s contact information, just out of curiosity, but the words never left his tongue. She would ask a lot of questions, and he wasn’t in the mood to answer them.

It was snowing the evening he went back to Seidou, leaving a thin dusting of white over the baseball grounds. He didn’t see Youichi at first – hadn’t seen him since dinner after he’d kissed him, where they hadn’t spoken – and wanted to postpone it for a little longer. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he sought him out.

So he swung for a bit in the warehouse. Masuko joined him after a while, then Tanba, then the rest of the second years. They talked a little, but eventually faded out, leaving Ryousuke to concentrate his thoughts on swinging and not what lay ahead after he finished.

Eventually, however, he’d had enough.

“I’m done for now,” he told the others, timing his exit so Masuko wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. “I’ll see you at dinner later.”

Jun nodded, a thin sheen of sweat visible on his brow as he swung without stopping to talk. “Gotcha. See you, Ryousuke.”

Ryousuke put his bat back and left.

There was a reason he had wanted Masuko to stay in one place. Standing outside room 5, he knew it would’ve been impossible to talk about this with anyone else in the room – he wasn’t even sure what he was going to say, or how it would go. He supposed they would just figure it out as they went.

He knocked, and the door opened a few seconds later. Youichi blinked at him.

“You look really cold,” he said, and Ryousuke almost laughed. “Do I?”

“Yeah! You’re wearing a t-shirt and it’s snowing.” He ushered Ryousuke in past the entrance, closing the door. “Come in, come in.”

Ryousuke supposed he was cold – he’d just been too preoccupied by other thoughts on his way over to notice. Unconsciously he brought his hands up to his arms to warm himself, and saw Youichi shrug off his hoodie, staring at him hesitantly, before looking away and dropping it on the ground next to his bed. In all honesty, Ryousuke wouldn’t have minded if he’d draped it over his shoulders.

“I haven’t been doing much,” Youichi confessed, avoiding his gaze. He went back to the bed, sitting himself down with a thud and holding up his DS. “Just… y’know. Zelda.”

“Which game?” Ryousuke settled himself comfortably on the other end of the bed, while Youichi stretched himself out on his front with his DS in his hands.

“Phantom Hourglass.”

“You talked about games a bit. When we first met.”

There was a pause, and Youichi laughed softly. “Yeah. I think I remember that.”

“You’re still not bad,” Ryousuke commented, watching him from over his shoulder. There was another laugh, a louder one this time. “Is that a challenge?”

Ryousuke hummed, shifting so he was lying down next to Youichi, his eyes on the game. “Maybe another day,” he mused.

He noticed Youichi’s skill worsened when he was laying this close, and took the opportunity to shift closer so he could feel his warmth against his side. Youichi wasn’t looking at him, and as Ryousuke watched he almost failed the area, fumbling with the controls, but then finally reached the save point. He sagged his shoulders, shutting his DS and resting his chin on the mattress.

Slowly but surely, Ryousuke reached over and brushed his fingertips across the back of his neck, playing with his hair. He heard Youichi sigh, saw him slump and bury his face in his pillow. “Ryou-san, what are you doing?”

He didn’t stop. “What do you think?”

“It’s like you’re trying to kill me. In the best way possible.” There was a pause, and then Youichi pressed the pillow to his face with both hands. “Oh god, I shouldn’t have said that. That sounded so weird.”

Ryousuke laughed lightly, his hand moving up so it was nestled properly in Youichi’s hair, his thumb making small, soft circles. “Aren’t you gonna show me more of the game?”

“Nah.”

“I thought you were supposed to be good at games.”

“Shut up, I’m amazing.”

Ryousuke continued stroking his hair. Youichi turned his face a little, looking at Ryousuke out of the corner of his eye. “You’re really messing me up,” he said weakly. “You know that?”

A hum. “Care to elaborate?”

“Oh jeez.” Youichi huffed out a breath. “Where do I even start?”

They sat in silence while he gathered his thoughts. Youichi wasn’t looking him in the eye – he had that frown of concentration on his face again, although he looked a little tired. Fondness glowed in Ryousuke’s chest, and he found himself not wanting to look away.

“Okay, first of all, uh…” Youichi turned away a little, looking self-conscious. “We both remember what happened at the park, and I was crushing on you, but like you said, it was just a two-day crush. It didn’t last for long after we met. Then I met you again and didn’t really think much of it except like… haha, awkward, whatever. But…”

He gulped. “I started to like you again. Gradually.”

There was the confession, not that Ryousuke needed it at this point. He shifted so he was lying on his side, his head resting on the bedcovers. “What’s different?”

“About?”

“Me. What’s different about me now that you like?”

Youichi snorted. “Always helping me embarrass myself, Ryou-san.”

“You’re going to do it anyway.” Also that had been the aim of the question, to make Youichi flustered.

“I’m completely dignified, dunno what you’re talking about.”

Youichi let out another breath of air, pondering what he was going to say (or just getting his thoughts straight).

“Back then, I liked you because you were fun to talk to. And you were… cute, I guess. To a twelve year old, anyway.” He laughed, then swallowed. “But now… it’s kinda hard to put into words. Liking someone isn’t really anything specific, it’s just kinda…” He gestured with his hands, frowning. “Like a ball of a bunch of feelings in your chest. And then when you see the person, that ball starts… glowing, or something. I dunno. Man, what am I saying?” He huffed, pressing his face into the pillow again. Ryousuke watched him, amused.

He wasn’t done. “I just really like you, Ryou-san. Talking to you. Being with you. And…” Youichi closed his eyes. “Don’t kill me, but you’re… really pretty.”

“Pretty?”

“Yeah. Really really pretty.” Youichi pulled his hands out from underneath the pillow, pressing his palms to his eyes. “I can’t compete.”

Ryousuke raised an eyebrow. “Really, Youichi?” He felt his lips curve into a half-smile. “That’s oddly self-deprecating for you. Haven’t I been flirting with you for months?”

Youichi’s head jolted up at that. He stared at him, eyes wide, and Ryousuke moved his hand to ruffle the front of his hair – he didn’t care that he was messing it up; it looked cute half-down. Youichi’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into Ryousuke’s hand, the petting slowly lulling him to sleep.

“I like you,” he murmured. Heart thudding, Ryousuke shifted closer, and Youichi turned his body towards him so that he was lying on his side. He took his other hand, the one that wasn’t currently buried in his hair, and squeezed it gently. Ryousuke could feel that his own hands were warm despite just having just come in from the snow, which had absolutely nothing to do with the situation at hand. Of course.

He suddenly felt himself wanting to say it back. Immediately his throat tensed, trying to swallow the words and prevent him from speaking them aloud. But Ryousuke wanted to say them, wanted to say them freely, and felt the tension in his chest relax a little as he looked at Youichi’s face. His eyes were all soft, gazing at him warmly, and Ryousuke finally let the words fall out of his mouth with a breath. “I like you, too.”

Light danced in Youichi’s eyes as he smiled – one of pure happiness, showing his teeth. He laughed a little bit, then leaned forward and kissed Ryousuke on the forehead, nuzzling into his hair. Ryousuke chuckled and Youichi moved back, watching him.

“You’re cute when you laugh,” he burst out, then covered his face with his free hand. Ryousuke just raised his eyebrows, tapping Youichi’s forehead with his index finger. “I should reprimand you for that.”

“But you’re not, are you?” Youichi grinned at him through his fingers, and Ryousuke’s stomach flipped a little bit. No, he wasn’t. Not at all. But he could at least get his own back.

“I’ve never seen this side to you before,” he commented. “All quiet and open. It’s nice.”

It was true, and it worked. Youichi flushed scarlet and laughed weakly, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. “Stop it.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“Ryou-san.”

Ryousuke pulled him to his chest, smiling, ruffling his hair and affectionately grinding his knuckles against his head. Youichi laughed, struggling a little and eventually electing to try and hide his head in Ryousuke’s chest, which Ryousuke wasn’t going to complain about. He then felt Youichi’s arms around his waist, hugging him close as he nuzzled, and realised his rapidly beating heart would definitely be noticeable now. For a moment he felt too vulnerable and considered pulling back, but then he realised that if it was Youichi, he didn’t mind.

He would let Youichi in on this.

They cuddled for a little while, Ryousuke shifting their legs closer so they tangled together, hands combing through Youichi’s hair. Youichi was warm and Ryousuke could feel himself dozing off – he wouldn’t object to falling asleep like this, honestly. Lying here with Youichi like this, he felt more relaxed than he’d been in a long time.

He then felt something brush his jawline and realised Youichi was pulling back a little bit, his hands coming up to cup Ryousuke’s face. Ryousuke watched him closely, feeling his fingers tracing down his jaw, and then Youichi closed the distance, pressing their lips together. It didn’t go as smoothly as he’d wanted – their noses bumped a little and it took a couple of tries to get their mouths to meet properly, but it was worth it. When they got it right, Youichi’s hands moved to the back of Ryousuke’s head, holding him tentatively – no, gently. Despite Youichi’s appearance and manner, he could be one of the gentlest people Ryousuke knew.

His lips were soft, and so was his touch. Youichi pulled away, looking at Ryousuke like he was dreaming, then leaned back in, pressing a second kiss to his mouth, then another. Ryousuke drew in a breath through his nose, kissing him back, just simple, sweet presses of the lips with short intervals in between, holding Youichi’s head in his hands.

Eventually Youichi stopped kissing his lips and moved to the rest of his face, pressing kisses to his cheek, his nose, his jaw, but then decided to give it a bit of a rest, slumping back onto the bed. He watched Ryousuke through sleepy eyes for a few moments before his eyelids slid shut, and Ryousuke soon followed his lead, pulling Youichi close with an arm around his waist and letting his eyes close. Youichi snuggled against him lazily.

Ryousuke realised that he hadn’t ended up asking him about his middle school days, but that could be saved for another time. Right now, he just wanted to lie here.

Their half-hearted attempts to stay awake were no good, and they both ended up falling asleep next to each other, cuddling on Youichi’s bed. Later Masuko would walk in and get the shock of his life, but after mulling over what to do for a good couple of minutes he would decide to leave them be and quietly back out, closing the door as silently as possible.