A rather silly bit of waff for one of my favourite ES21 pairings, because I know Shin's got emotions in there somewhere. Not actually a sequel to the wangsty unrequited Sakuraba/Shin I wrote back in the day, but it could be. Everything I know about muscle structure, I learned from Wikipedia.
Spoilers up to the first round of the fall tournament, chapter 105 or so.
Self-Awareness For Dummies
The thing with Shin is, he's kind of stupid. Not stupid stupid, not like say Ootawara, who occasionally has to be reminded that pants are obligatory and whose brain tends to overheat if he thinks too hard about something. But for a smart guy who does well in all his classes, who works out his own finely balanced nutrition plans, and who can analyse all an opposing team's strengths and weaknesses with only a few minutes' observation, Shin is extremely stupid about some things.
This selective stupidity explains, for example, why Shin has never wondered about his complete lack of regard for girls. Not that he dislikes them, he just doesn't find them at all interesting: they're neither opponents nor team mates, and none of them ever seem interested in football beyond asking him if he can introduce them to Sakuraba. Conversely, Shin is very interested in anyone who plays football, be they enemy (so he can size them up) or ally (so he can monitor their physical and mental well-being). This is why he takes such meticulous note of the muscle structure of his fellow players. The shape of the biceps brachii, the swell of the quadriceps femoris, the stretch of the trapezius running down into the latissimus dorsi: all these things speak volumes about a person's strength, speed and stamina, and these are important things to know about his opponents and his team mates. And, being stupid, Shin can quite easily assume that this is the one and only reason for his sharp eye and keen interest when it comes to the male physique.
It is also this stupid streak that allows Shin to be completely oblivious to the not entirely subtle attraction that Sakuraba's harboured towards him for quite a long time now. Not that it's blindingly obvious: you'd have to spend a fair bit of time around the two of them before it became apparent, and certainly none of their team mates would notice, because they're teenaged boys, hardly renowned for their emotional awareness (hell, Ootawara's still struggling with the concept of regular pants-wearing). Only Takami might possibly have an inkling, and that enigmatic smile of his could mean almost anything and conceal even more. But Shin can read an opponent's thoughts and intentions in the brief instant before a feint or tackle, and keeps strict watch on his team mates for any sign of mental or emotional weakness that might threaten their abilities. For him to be so utterly ignorant of the way Sakuraba looks at him, and doesn't quite smile, and rarely meets his eyes for more than a few moments, can only be attributed to pure stupidity. And even when he notices the rise in Sakuraba's breathing rate and the increased bloodflow to the other boy's face, he puts it down to adrenaline from training, anticipation before a match or just general excitability, and that's all.
In the build-up to the Fall Tournament, at Mount Fuji and afterwards, Shin does notice with an approving eye the increase in Sakuraba's body mass and his rapidly improving muscle tone. He recognises the heightened level of dedication and effort his team mate must have put in to achieve such improvements, and makes a mental note to advise Sakuraba not to build up his pectoralis major or the muscles of his rotator cuff much further; too much upper body mass would unbalance him on the field and make him a less effective player, and would also look unnatural on Sakuraba's relatively ectomorphic frame. He also notices, while scrutinising the other boy's neck (the sternocleidomastoid is moving smoothly) that Sakuraba's cut some of his hair off. A lot of it, in fact. Shin wonders briefly when that happened (though he vaguely recalls someone saying something about Sakuraba looking different; was this what they were talking about?), and then wonders why he wondered, and then wonders about that. He doesn't get very far with it, though, and almost immediately forgets it in favour of examining Sakuraba's gastrocnemius for signs of stress or inflammation.
Sakuraba's become stronger, and Shin approves of that, and not only because it makes him a greater asset to the team. Because he and Sakuraba have been friends for a long time, and he knows how much Sakuraba wants to be a strong player, to be a useful person for the White Knights, and the fact that he's finally learned how to do that pleases Shin, even if he'd be completely incapable of expressing it (just another string to his bow of stupid). And also, in a weird, irrational way, because of his memory of that night: Sakuraba down on his knees in the pounding rain, pleading with Shin to know how, just how he's supposed to be strong enough when he's only an ordinary person. Afterwards Shin put the twisting sensation in his gut down to indigestion, and reconsidered his intake of fibre and protein, but he's just smart enough to know that he never wants to see Sakuraba like that again.
Before the game against Sankaku, Shin gives his team a final once over, and is pleased to see strength and determination and Ootawara wearing pants. And when he meets Sakuraba's eyes, there's something hard and certain in them, a confidence that Shin doesn't recall seeing there before. (They're nice eyes, he notices in an abstracted sort of way, but he doesn't even think to wonder about that; there's a game to be won.) He watches during the game as Sakuraba and Takami pull off those ultra-high passes with a precision and assurance that's thoroughly professional, and feels an odd swell of pride at how his team mates - all of them - have progressed. Afterwards, he meets Sakuraba's gaze again and nods in acknowledgement of a task well performed; Sakuraba smiles a little, and the hardness is gone from his eyes but the certainty remains, and Shin thinks that he's seeing the real Sakuraba Haruto now, maybe for the very first time. And for the first time, Shin really looks, without scanning for muscle tone or injury potential, and is somewhat surprised by what he sees.
Shin is stupid, stupid enough that emotional subtleties tend to pass him by, but also stupid enough to acknowledge unselfconsciously and without censorship those emotions that smack him right in the face. Consequently, it doesn't take him long to realise what's happening, and his solution is characteristically straightforward, clean and blunt as one of his tackles; he simply approaches Sakuraba after training one day, noting with interest the small stab of jealousy he feels at seeing Sakuraba and Takami leaning on each other, laughing over some private joke.
"I need to speak with you," he says, and Sakuraba looks a little surprised, but says "sure" and follows him. Shin leads him behind the bleachers, the nearest place they can converse without anyone else listening or watching, then turns and meets Sakuraba's enquiring expression, and doesn't hesitate in saying what he needs to.
"I like you," he tells Sakuraba plainly. "I mean, I'm attracted to you," he clarifies, not certain if he's been understood, because Sakuraba's only reaction is a wide, blank stare.
"I thought it would be best to tell you," Shin presses on, "Because keeping such feelings hidden could have adverse effects on my performance, and that would be bad for the team. This shouldn't affect my interactions with you, unless my feelings for you make you uncomfortable. In which case I'll leave the team, of course."
Of course, because it's only rational: he's the one with who's attracted to a team mate, and if that causes a problem he'll leave, whatever the Coach or anyone else might say. It doesn't even occur to Shin how monumentally stupid an offer it is, and how it really wouldn't work, and how it might affect his entire life. Just as it never occurred to him not to say anything to Sakuraba, because he can't imagine not being honest about something like this, in a situation where it could jeopardise his effectiveness as a player and be detrimental to the team as a whole. Sakuraba is still looking at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
"I," he says finally. "I never, I mean, I - but I never thought you - I mean, you like me?"
Shin nods. Sakuraba continues to stare disbelievingly at him, and Shin decides the quickest way to prove he's being truthful is with a practical demonstration. So he hooks a hand around Sakuraba's neck, in a gesture that's more like a tackle than a caress, drags his head down and kisses him, hard and direct as always; he's never done this before, but how difficult could it be? He counts off five seconds while Sakuraba's mouth is compacted against his, then lets go and takes a step back. Sakuraba stares at him open-mouthed for several more seconds, and then laughs.
"Wow," he says, sounding breathless. "You're so not good at that!" And Shin doesn't know what he means until Sakuraba steps forward and kisses him in return, and his mouth is careful and oh so clever. Shin lets himself be guided through this strangely gentle thing, Sakuraba's hand on the back of his neck and his head tilted at an angle that's odd, yet somehow makes perfect sense. When they break apart, Shin feels a little breathless himself, his heart hammering like he's just run laps, and Sakuraba is grinning at him in delight, because he's finally found something he's better at than the great Shin Seijuuro, and he's going to enjoy it while he can, though he knows his superiority won't last long.
Because Shin might be kind of stupid about some things, but he's always been a very fast learner.