You Will Know, a prince of tennis fanfic

Yamato Yudai had been terrified of becoming captain. Like most people, he wore a brace or wrist cuff or sweatband for privacy, but often wondered if the serious, detailed script was a prophecy that he had somehow self-fulfilled by joining a club. Though perhaps, in confusion or in jest, someone might call him captain. At the end of his second year, during the tennis club's party, the announcement had come as a partway surprise- he didn't feel qualified particularly to captain a team- and at the chorus of captain! his heart had hammered once, hard, against his ribs in wonder and anticipation, but no one looked at him differently when he saluted Thank you! I'll do my best to make you all proud. I'll be a pillar for Seigaku!

And neither did he feel any differently, like the stories said he would when his soulmate responded.

So that was that. He would still be waiting, with this inconvenient noun delicately bruised into his skin, and at least a year or more of captain, captain! and no way of preparing for the inevitable.

The first practice of his third year, after the Clubs Day rally and mad rush to collect new classmates, there are all of the first years turned second years, minus the boy who had transferred to another district, and a crop of incredibly cute first years. It was almost too much. Yamato was close to laughing, standing there with his coat draped over his shoulders and wanting to pick up these tiny children and keep them in his pocket. He doled out a quick, warm, welcome, and then sent the whole lot scurrying into warm-ups. It was his goal to be a firm, but kind captain. Someone the whole team, even the newest members, might feel comfortable approaching.

"Ahhh, Kouta," he crossed his arms and grinned at the vice-captain. His close friend was the kind of lucky young man who had met his soulmate early on in life, almost three years ago, "Were we that cute when we were first years?"

"Sae-chan, maybe, but not us," Kouta elbowed him and watched their manager scribble notes onto an overburdened clipboard.

Yamato laughed and watched Kouta's fiancée smile from across the court. He wondered what it was like, knowing from a young age who your other half was, and being able to get to know them and spend time with them. To begin building a life together. He touched the sweatband on his left wrist. He had no idea that his soulmate had already laid eyes on him, and for a moment- brief and sharp- had felt an inkling of recognition.

He was terrible with names.

Before he finally committed Kouta's name to memory, Kouta was Diver, because his family had gone on multiple skydiving trips and Yamato found that absurd.

So, in the grand tradition of his own spectacular failings, he was attempting to learn the names of the new club members, but primarily assigning nicknames. The taller first year with the impressive sideburns was Elvis- Kawamura or Sawamura- and the shorter boy with the sly smile that Elvis followed everywhere was Fox- Fuji. Or was it Eiji? The Fox's little friend with the bouncy curls was Cat- Eiji or Fuji- or alternatively Tripper, because of his crashing and falling and theatrical tumbling. And the Cat's doting, serious friend was Scrambles. For all of his scrambling to apologize for Eiji's antics.

"Clever," Kouta intoned, both of his eyebrows high and unimpressed. "I especially like Tripper. Although his name is Eiji."

"I'm trying, here."

"What about that one, then? With the glasses?"

Yamato glanced at the boy Kouta was indicating; it was the last of the first years, the one with a medium build and stiff bow. "Well, Glasses is too easy, of course," Yudai said, waving one hand in derision. "I can do better. He's not as effusive as the rest of them, though. We'll have to dig deep."

Kouta snorted. "We have no digging to do. You have to learn your team's name."

"Seishun Gakuen."

His joke earned a cold glare from Kouta and no further comment. Instead, he walked away to, presumably, chat with Sae. Grammatically, though, he thought, I think it was funny, Diver.

He watched as the second-years, each paired with a sparkling first year, walked through basics and a handful of warm-ups. Last year's captain has done this also; getting them better acquainted with one another, building a sense of team, of trust. Meandering past the courts he watched as the first years began to receive casual practice balls from the second years. He wasn't surprised to see a few professional quality racquets in the mix- the Fox had one of them, and was returning tennis balls to the far court with an ease that was surreal. At the last court, he came to the boy whose name eluded him, both literally and figuratively. The boy was receiving Takano's serves with ease, moving with deliberate and reserved purpose to reach each return. His focus was like a beacon, and Yamato had a hard time focusing on the name problem while he watched. There was a tug, there, a fragment of what felt like familiarity.

For three minutes straight, Takano returned the ball with spirit, but, abruptly, the first year heaved his shoulder into a pass and the ball went sailing past Takano's left side. His weak spot. Yamato felt his jaw drop. That swing had been flawless, the drop of the ball completely perfect- it had been amazing.

Takano wailed, "Ahhhh, Tezuka-kun, you really got me!"

Tezuka. That was his name-

"Tremendous!" he shouted, arms coming up in an exuberant clap. "That was just incredible, Tezuka-kun, just fantastic. Takano, you better watch out!"

Takano laughed, but the first year was staring at Yamato; his face was pale and a bit drawn. He let his racquet down slowly, frowning. The boy looked down and then to the side; Yamato could see that he was beginning to breathe faster. He took a step forward, "Are you okay?"

Tezuka glanced up, and as the boy opened his mouth he knew- that feeling of trepidation, of wonder. He felt his stomach turn and his heart rate crash. The first year held his hand over his wrist.

"Captain…?" he whispered, so soft Yamato almost couldn't hear over the continual thwock of tennis balls against racquets and court. But his blood heard; it sang through his veins, so wild and fast his knees went unsteady. He couldn't look away; Tezuka's eyes were blown wide, each breath that he took a ragged thing that Yamato could suddenly sense over everything else. He'd heard over and over that it was different for everyone, this feeling, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. He took one staggering step forward, watching Tezuka's reaction. The first-year had dropped his racquet.

Takano was calling something from the far side of the net, but Yamato couldn't hear it. He was at Tezuka's side in the next step, and the first year was looking frantically around the courts, face unbelievably red. Yudai was almost afraid to touch him, as though he would do something stupid, or- or-

But he took Tezuka's cold elbow and the fever in his blood went steady and calm; it was still so strong, but he could think. The first year glanced up at him, chin defiant but lower lip trembling. Oh, my god, he thought, he's embarrassed. My poor sweetheart.

He said again, loudly so the nearer court would hear him, "Are you okay?"

Tezuka was stiff, but didn't jerk away when he leaned close, as though to listen. He felt Tezuka's breath as he exhaled, shaky, near his ear. This close, he could smell the sweat and sweetness of the other boy, and feel how he trembled. It was intoxicating, and it almost sapped his focus. He went on, still loudly, as his stood straight, "You didn't eat lunch? Tezuka! You can't skip meals! You'll get sick."

The boy stared at him, still shaking, but gradually he seemed to understand, and started to nod. "Right…"

"Kouta? I'm taking Tezuka-kun to the clubroom, he hasn't eaten since this morning," he began to steer Tezuka away from the court and past the other players, trying to shield him as best he could. The first-year's knees were trying to go out from under him. "Takano, can you get his racquet to the benches? Thank you! We'll be back soon."

Kouta lifted his hand and waved a bit to show he'd received the message, though Yamato could tell by his wry expression that they'd be discussing this later.

Tezuka didn't resist as they headed for the clubroom, and his breathing seemed to be under control, though his cheeks were still mottled with red. Safely inside, the first year sat down immediately on the nearest bench and took his glasses off. Yamato watched him shiver, then grasp at the dark blue sweatband on his wrist. This was really happening. It had happened.

Taking care to move smoothly, Yudai stepped up to the boy before crouching in front of him. He pulled his coat away from his own shoulders and draped it over Tezuka's rigid back. "Can I see?"

Tezuka blushed hot, sucking in a breath. His knees were clasped tightly together, his spine like a telephone pole. But he pulled the band down and off, setting it carefully to the side. He offered his wrist without saying anything, looking away and grabbing the edge of Yamato's jacket to keep it from falling.

He's so incredibly cute, Yamato thought, smiling in what he hoped was a gentle way. The script on Tezuka's wrist was very small, accentuated by small flourishes and very long horizontal lines. He held Tezuka's wrist in both his hands, letting his thumbs brush across the pale skin and thrumming veins of this person who was his soulmate, suddenly and irrevocably tied to his life. The first year worried his lip, staring at Yamato like he had never seen another person before this moment. "Sweetheart. That's really beautiful."

Tezuka lowered his chin, blushing again, so embarrassed and most assuredly out of his depth. He glanced at Yamato through his lashes and then turned Yamato's left hand over, reaching with small, sturdy fingers for the cuff that hid the mark Yamato had endured for the last several months. Tezuka took in a sharp breath as he looked down at the mark, as though this were the final nail or straw. This was the final proof. Beyond the feelings that Yamato knew must have been similar to his own; the rocketing adrenaline and terror of knowing.

"Captain," the boy said quietly, reading the fine script that Yamato knew by heart. Its delicate and thin lines, very straight and exacting, were so familiar he sometimes forgot how beautifully the word was etched to his skin. He remained crouched, letting Tezuka breathe and rest and absorb. He wondered if he should be more anxious, himself, but all he felt was an enduring warmth, like a little candle had been lit in his chest, that could not be blown out. All he wanted to do was bundle Tezuka away, alone, and spend the rest of the day and night with him. He wanted to keep him close and know everything; every favorite thing, despised thing, preference and hobby. What brought him joy? What secret thing to protect him from, if he had pains and sorrow. Very slowly, he reached with his free hand for the messy brown hair that whorled across Tezuka's forehead. He brushed it to the side, admiring the serious lines of the first year's eyebrows and nose. "You're a stoic one, aren't you? So strong and determined."

The longer they sat together, the more he felt like he knew the other boy. He was like an open book, written in a language only Yamato could speak. Gently, he pushed several locks of short hair behind Tezuka's ear, letting his fingers brush over his earlobe and neck. Tezuka smiled a little, almost shrugging.

"My name is Yamato Yudai; it's nice to meet you, officially," he offered his hand for a shake and then bowed, grinning. It worked; Tezuka giggled and relaxed further into the weight of Yamato's jacket. His grip was strong and Yamato had a hint of the man he would grow up to be. He would be handsome, that was for sure.

"Tezuka Kunimitsu," he shook Yamato's hand and gave a small bow of his own. Yamato grinned; he'd never wanted to kiss someone like he wanted to kiss Tezuka now. "I… wasn't expecting this. I'm. I'm twelve."

Yamato nodded, but Tezuka was adding defensively, "I'll be thirteen in October."

"I'll be sixteen in November," he said quietly, and looked down, because he wanted to kiss Tezuka no less desperately. They sat for several minutes together, holding hands and only occasionally maintaining eye contact. Tezuka had such a serious face and strong presence, Yamato didn't know what to do. He was inclined to joke around, but he was afraid to open his mouth and put Tezuka off with his carefree nature.

What a pair we are.

"We can take this as slowly as you like," Yudai murmured, dragging his thumb over Tezuka's bare wrist. "We don't have to tell the team, or anybody, until you want. I'm… assuming though… that you're okay with this? Generally?"

The first year's eyes went very wide before he nodded, so emphatically and intent that Yamato's jacket almost fell away. "You seem… really nice."

"I hope I am. I think you deserve that," Yamato searched the other boy's serious face; he seemed recovered, no longer shaking or pale. His brown eyes were watching, assessing, but open. He bit his lip, and Yamato took a deep breath, "Can I call you, when… we're alone sometimes, or… Kunimitsu-kun, can I call you sweetheart? I feel like, wow, I really want to call you that. If it's okay…?"

The grin that spread across Tezuka's face was bright, and so cute; Yudai grinned back, squeezing the first year's hands between his own. Tezuka was nodding again, "I liked it when you did. Nobody's ever really called me that."

"I- I called you that already-?"

"You did. And… you didn't use an honorific when we were leaving the court."

Yudai laughed, reaching once again for Tezuka's chocolate colored hair; he ran his fingers through, just because he could. "I see. I suppose it was a foregone conclusion. You can call me Yudai, if you like. Or anything else. Whatever makes you happy."

There was no warning for it, not really, so Yamato wasn't sure what to do; Tezuka was fast, and he was confident enough to keep going once he got started. In the lesser part of a second, the first year had slid from his seat, his arms raising to wrap around Yudai's neck. He landed with no small measure of grace between the third year's legs, and stretched up to reach, reach and press his lips to the corner of Yamato's mouth.

Yudai's arms went around Tezuka's back of their own accord, squeezing. The jacket had fallen to the floor. He had to find his balance, but Tezuka made it easy, rocking gently against his chest as the captain's knees knocked to the cool ground. He grabbed for the back of Tezuka's head, orienting himself and feeling a long, shuddering exhale fill the space between them. There was no space to think; the breath and the way Kunimitsu gazed at him, too close and with blown pupils, went to the back and the front of his brain, and seemed to cover it in gauze. Grip tight, he pressed in close and kissed Tezuka back, more squarely and more forcefully. Some iron willpower kept him chaste; he kissed the boy's top lip, then his bottom lip, and moaned when they met for a final time in the middle.

Tezuka's breath was shaky and his cheeks hot, so close Yamato thought he could feel the warmth of them. Or it was his own blood, ringing with clarity and heat. This was kissing one's soulmate. Some inexpressible comfort, a sort of familiarity, ran through the motion, undercutting their nerves. "Oh. My god, sweetheart."

He whispered it against Tezuka's sweet, enamored grin, then pressed their foreheads together.

Tezuka murmured, "Sorry. I got ahead of myself. That wasn't-"

Yudai caught him in another kiss, gripping the back of his coarse hair and pulling in the breath that would have carried Tezuka's next words. He didn't care, he couldn't. He dragged his mouth over the fullness of Tezuka's lower lip, all points in the universe contracting and coming to a point where Kunimitsu's short fingernails scratched into the hair at the nape of his neck. Was this how it felt when Kouta had first kissed Sae? Had it made their knees and their hearts quake like this?

He felt the first warm, wet brush of Tezuka's mouth, and felt more than heard the muffled keen of surprise that trembled in the boy's throat. Though he wanted it, so badly, he fought the little grip the first year had on him, and fought the grip that he himself had on Tezuka. A little groan rumbled past his teeth and passed onto Tezuka's lips. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his gravity. "Okay. Shhhh, okay."

Yamato pulled his soulmate close to his chest, hugging him so tightly he though Tezuka might complain, but the boy only squeezed back with an equal, fierce determination. "We have to go back. I'll give you one of my protein bars so you have a wrapper to throw away when we get to the court. Okay? Okay, sweetheart? We'll go slow. We'll go slow, okay?"

He pulled away, supporting the other boy's weight and carefully catching the serious gaze that came with it. Very slowly, Tezuka nodded, curling and uncurling his fists against Yamato's shoulders. The third year brought his hands up to smooth both sides of the boy's hair, then cupped his soft cheeks.

"Are you okay?"

Tezuka nodded again, a very small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "I'm okay. Captain."

Yudai grinned and reached for the glasses on the bench, and Tezuka reached for the coat. Standing tall, Yamato bent for a moment to slip the stems over the first year's ears, pausing to kiss his forehead. His stomach rolled with happy warmth; this was only the first day, and there was so much more to look forward to. "Let's go, sweetheart. Before they miss us too much."

He took Tezuka's hand, and tugged him forward.