June was hot and humid; all across Tokyo, students were spread out over their college campus lawns, or hiding in the cool libraries, waiting for the end of the last day of finals. Monta had decided to stay in a library, despite preferring the sunshine and the smell of grass over musty old books, thanks to the one last final he still had to do. His first semester of his junior year of college was ending slowly and painfully. He was actually pretty sure he was going to die and he had no idea how Sena had survived last year. Sure, Monta had taken it max easy his first two years, surfing by on an undeclared major and taking general core classes and a few extra for fun (that freshman seminar on the history of chocolate had been awesome), but he thought finally figuring out his major would make life easier . He'd spent two years in an agony of indecision and purposelessness except for amefuto; it had been a relief to find out what he wanted to do with his life outside chasing a 'pigskin'- as Americans called it. He definitely still wanted to get into the NFL like Sena and most of his friends, but everyone still had something else. Monta had felt like an moron for years for being so passionless off-field.

It didn't matter how often Sena said amefuto was important to both of them, how Monta was sure to get drafted after college. It didn't matter how often Taka sent texts agreeing with Sena and with actual mathematical stats worked out to show how likely his drafting would be. (The chance wasn't as high as Sena's or especially Shin's, but it was still pretty high!) Not even Honjou-sensei's occasional encouraging email helped on his worst days.

Monta had still looked at Sena working extra hard his sophomore year to get into his physical therapy program this year and felt lacking . He'd seen Riku looking into police academies and grinning when he came back from his stupid filing internship over winter holidays- as if just being in the environment had fulfilled some need in him. And there had been Suzuna being over the moon with all her classes and meetings with older nurses in the hospitals she was hoping to get residency at in just a year. Hell, Monta had even gone with Sena to visit Shin while the giant robot man had been- of all things- coaching friggin' little league amefuto at a community center; and he'd seen Shin smile at children . It was eerie.

And depressing. Amefuto was great, but everyone else had these options for just in case, or for after retirement, something that played to their other strengths and passions. Monta? He'd been looking at being a bagboy in a shop or hoping he made enough money playing 'ball that he wouldn't need a job afterwards.

That is, until he'd gone with Mamori to a soup kitchen over winter break and realized… he… kinda liked it. Not just hanging out with Mamori- who could still make his heart pitterpatter, but was more like a cool big sister these days- but helping people. He liked that. He liked making a difference in people's lives. When he'd admitted it to Sena and Mamori, they'd both encouraged him enthusiastically and Mamori suggested the social work degree.

Starting a social work degree in his third year was… was… hard . There were so many new classes, he was older than a lot of his classmates that had come into college knowing they wanted to be in his new major. He had to figure out how to put in enough time to study these harder subjects and still make time for amefuto and practice, plus the part-time job he had to pay bills. It was crazy .

But as he set aside his study guide and slumped over the table, sure he had his Human Behavior final in the bag (with 30 minutes to spare), he felt a little bit of… pride. In himself. He'd never been proud of his studies before. He was the kid that skated by on barely not failing (or as he liked to think about it, barely passing). For once, it mattered more and there was an immense satisfaction in feeling ready for an exam.

His phone chimed and he grinned at the customized ring.

Taka One more left.

Me yah i cant wait to be done bro

Taka Don't call me bro. You'll do well. You've studied meticulously and rigorously.

Monta grinned and rubbed his nose. It was pretty awesome when Taka both complimented him and used big words that Monta would never use himself. He always acted as if Monta were smarter than he really was. But also never made Monta feel like a tool for actually not knowing some smart fancy-pants word. He did know these words, though (Taka really liked the word meticulous …).

Me thnx man

Taka That is not much better, Raimon.

Monta barked out a laugh, immediately wincing at the harried glares sent his direction.

Taka You should be heading to your final now. Don't allow that hard work go to waste, Raimon.

Me yah yah im going now u said u wanted 2 talk 2 me bout smth?

Taka I also said after the final. Text me when it's over. Good luck.

Monta sent a kissy face- just to mess with him, because Taka's face whenever he got a emoticon was endlessly hilarious, like an offended cat - and shoved all his stuff back into his bag. He had just enough time to grab an energy drink from a vending machine before the final if he left now. Plus, the idea that he had some super-secret news from Taka to look forward to had him too restless to sit and moan for fifteen minutes.

He went into his final final grinning. And not just because of the max awesome pun he'd made up and sent to every single one of his friends before turning the phone off.

…

Monta threw himself into Taka's dorm room hours later, eyes wide and chest heaving. His eyes were also probably about to shake out of his sockets and his hands were trembling. Taka threw a water bottle at his face and Monta actually fumbled it for a moment.

"Really!? You're serious!?" Monta exclaimed wildly.

Taka sighed. "What did I say about those energy drinks?"

"I only had like, two," Monta protested, ripping off the bottle cap and guzzling the water down. Taka's unimpressed expression was waiting when Monta lowered the bottle with a gusty exhale. Monta threw himself on Taka's dorm bed- Saikyoudai beds were so much better his own cheap one- and rolled his eyes. "Okay, so five." Taka's eyebrow arched and Monta looked away, pouting and pink-cheeked. "Six. But that's not the point!" Monta flailed himself back upright. He jabbed his index finger in Taka's direction, still clutching the sweating bottle. "Are you serious about that internship?"

"When do I ever joke?" Taka retorted, twitching mouth belying his sternness. He shuffled through some papers in his printer to hide it (but Monta of course already saw it. He prided himself on noticing Taka's almost smiles. He may or may not have a running tally in his head). The overachieving bookworm was probably already working on next year's assignments. He liked predicting what the curriculum topics would be. For fun. He'd spent way too much time around Yamato, in Monta's opinion.

"You joke, man. Sometimes. Kinda badly, but you do," Monta teased, lopsided grin on his face.

Taka huffed and handed over the thin packet of papers he'd separated from the rest. "Well, this is from my father. When you told him about your major declaration-"

"You told him before I did."

"He immediately began looking for something like this," Taka finished, completely ignoring Monta's interruption. Monta snickered and took the proffered pages. His eyes scanned the paper eagerly, grin stretching over his whole face and somehow growing wider and confounded as he read. "You know how he is about charity work and his social reform projects, he always has his nose in someone's business. It wasn't difficult, I'm sure."

Monta snorted and glanced up at Taka's carefully blank face. "You act like it's embarrassing, but me and sensei both know you're proud of him." He snickered again when Taka quickly turned away, cheeks pink.

"Be it as it may, my father made me promise to give them to you as soon as possible. He threatened to come to Tokyo himself to hand over the application if I didn't give it to you the moment your last final was over," Taka explained after subtly clearing his throat. Such a daddy's boy , Monta thought to himself, barely stifling more chuckles. "I prefer him in Osaka and as far away from you and Tokyo as possible. He causes much less trouble there."

"Aw, bro, that's just mean . I love it when sensei comes to visit!" Monta whined pathetically. It was Taka's turn to roll his eyes.

"Oh, I know. You're each other's biggest fans. It's quite heartwarming. And don't call me bro," Taka said despairingly.

Monta just laughed, ears and cheeks just a little warm at the reminder of how Honjou-sensei had taken him under his wing as much as he had. Monta really hadn't expected to stay so close to Taka and Honjou-sensei, not really. Taka was just… so… Taka . And Monta was just a fanboy who managed to be really good at catching in comparison to the Honjou-sensei. But… Honjou-sensei had really become like a father figure in the past few years, though he would joke about him being like the 'cool uncle' out loud. He didn't wanna come off creepy, but mostly he didn't want his mother to overhear. It might upset her or make her feel guilty- which led to anger. (He and his mother both dealt with guilt the same way.)

"So you don't mind? Me staying over at your house for three whole weeks?" Monta asked when he finished reading over the application and job description.

Taka turned in his expensive spinny chair to meet Monta's worried gaze head on.

"One, it's not my choice to invite you to my father's house. If my father's going to invite you, then you accept if you want to. My opinion doesn't matter. Two, you're my friend, one of the best friends I've made in Tokyo. I don't mind your presence in the slightest, in fact, I enjoy it." Monta grinned widely. "Thirdly, and lastly, this is a great opportunity. I'd hate to deprive you of it because I'm afraid of your smelly socks in the laundry room. I won't be an obstacle. Not off the gridiron, that is," Taka listed off bluntly and honestly, smirking smugly at Monta with the parting taunt. Monta finger-gunned and winked.

"Ha, as if you could stop me there, either. We beat your sorry asses hard in our first year ," Monta pointed out just as cocky.

"And yet, you didn't even make it to the Rice Bowl this year. How shameful," Taka sighed.

"Oi! You assho-" Monta threw the bottle mid-word. Taka's eyes widened in concern, half out of his seat before the bottle even left Monta's hand. Luckily, the bottle managed to smack into Monta's own face and he fell off the bed with a loud crash and yelp.

Taka pressed his fist to his mouth, but it couldn't completely muffle the laughter spilling out of him.

"Yugg id up, ya jerg! I'll gigg yer ath… ath thoon ath mah nodse thtops bleedung."

Taka outright guffawed, leaning against his desk to stay upright. Monta just glared and pinched the bridge of his nose, reaching for the wobbling pack of tissue Taka handed over.

…

The train ride to Osaka was probably the most comfortable Monta had ever experienced. Taka always travelled first class to and from his home. When Monta was booking his own ticket, trying to coincide with Taka's as closely as possible, Taka had merely booked another first class seat next to his. Then, he waved off all of Monta's protests and shoved a football in his face the next time they met in person to keep Monta from promising to pay him back. Luckily, Taka wasn't the sort of rich where people were paid to carry his bags, instead just carrying his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. They also took the subway to his house rather than some fancy European car picking them up. All this combined had Monta feeling pretty good about visiting. He'd been worried a bit, like Sena had been the first time he went to visit the Shins, but other than the first class ticket, everything was pretty normal.

Taka probably shelled out the extra cash just because the first class cars were quieter and he could read better. Not that Monta could blame him; he had no idea how he'd ever travel regular coach after the comfy, giant seats of first class and the extra clean restrooms.

They walked along the sidewalk, a wall extending high above their heads and blocking the residences from view. Monta waved and greeted everyone they passed, since they'd all done the same first. Say what people will about stereotypes, Osakans were definitely better at being neighborly and friendly. Taka acted more like a Tokyoite than Monta, blithely keeping his gaze lofty and avoiding eye contact. Monta dropped a waving hand and turned- only to flail and stare up and down the sidewalk wondering where the hell Taka had flown off to because he was suddenly alone.

"What the crap? I knew it. He actually learned to fly, it was only a matter of time," Monta exclaimed aloud, tilting back his head to stare upward.

"You idiot, this is my house," Taka retorted from behind Monta. The Enma receiver spun around, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning crookedly.

Then, his jaw dropped. His bag slipped slowly and fell with a thud to the pavement. His eyes bulged from their sockets as they looked up and down, up up and down. Taka was standing just inside the arched gateway, hand on the lintel and head ducked just under it- because of course he was too tall for the doorway- and exasperation clear on his face.

"Let's go, or my father will see us and come out."

"But… it's… a castle…" Monta stammered. Taka sighed.

"It's a house."

"No, dude, that's a castle."

"It's not a castle. It's a house. A big house, but just a house . Hurry up, or he'll come out and hug you on the sidewalk."

"Bro… bro , you live in a castle. I'm going to live in a castle for three weeks."

"Taro, Raimon, get in here right now or I'm carrying you. Don't call me bro."

Monta snorted so hard it hurt, but picked up his bag and stepped over the threshold- toes catching and making him stumble the rest of the way inside. Taka swung the door closed and latched it with obvious relish. His hand gripped the back of Monta's neck and guided him up the pathway to the front door. The whole place was… was shady , patches of sunlight just big enough to lie in here and there. Mostly it was just trees, trees all fluffy and green on top, a few with branches that hung down covered in purple flowers in the sunniest parts of the yard. Flowers that had either wilted for summer or hadn't yet bloomed were tall green stalks along the path, and neatly pruned shrubs lined the wraparound porch. Taka looked infinitely more relaxed than Monta had ever seen him, a pleased little smile hovering around the corners of his mouth.

"I was worried I might miss them this year. Having you come to visit gave me an excuse to return in time," Taka said quietly. Monta's eyebrows jumped up high.

"Miss what?"

"The wisteria," Taka answered. An answer still utterly mystifying to Monta.

"Is that a flower? It sounds like a flower," Monta muttered, eyeing the grassy lawn and looking for what Taka could be talking about. Taka opened his mouth, hand lifting towards the trees, when the front door flung open.

"Hn," Taka grunted, pasting on his most disgruntled face.

"Honjou-sensei!" Monta exclaimed as the big man in question- his face almost hidden under the wild beard he'd grown this year- stepped onto the porch. He flung his arms wide, hairy face beaming and joyous.

"My son! My son-in-law!"

Monta burst out laughing and bounded up the stairs. They exchanged manly, back-slapping hugs that were a little too tight and hung on a little too long, and they totally weren't teary-eyed when they parted. Both of Honjou's big, bearlike paws clasped Monta's shoulders and Monta let himself be hauled around as Honjou checked him over with a critical eye.

"Taka was right, you wore yourself out this year. Whenever you're not at the offices, you'll be resting here, you hear me, son?" Honjou ordered, eyes kindly and caring. Monta had to twist up his face to keep from getting more teary. It was always so overwhelming having all that approval shining down on him and hearing Honjou call him son .

"I'm fine, Honjou-sensei! I'm probably gonna sleep for a whole day as soon as I go to bed, but I'm max refreshed right now!" Monta held up a flexed arm and bared his teeth in a grin. He almost barrelled into a wall at Honjou's enthusiastic backslap.

"That's what I like to hear. Except for that sensei nonsense. I thought I said to call me Masaru?"

"Ah- uh-" Monta hedged.

"Father, you're blocking the entryway," Taka interjected, acknowledging Monta's look of relief with a raised eyebrow. His features fell into mild irritation when his father swept him up into a two-armed hug, spine cracking and arms pinned to his sides.

"Taka! You look healthy as a horse as usual. No burning the midnight oil for my prodigal son," Honjou noted, proudly ruffling Taka's hair. Monta slapped a hand over his face to hold in the ugly snorts. A disheveled Taka looked a whole lot like a grumpy, blow-dried cat.

"It's called time management," Taka replied shortly, ducking out from under his dad's hand. "I should take Raimon to his room. You did get it ready?"

"I'm not senile, son. I decided to go with the guest room next to yours, where Yamato used to stay," Honjou informed them. Taka nodded and walked into the house. Honjou looked to Monta. "I wanted you closer to my room, it's closer to the front of the house, but Taka chose the rooms closest to the back when he was thirteen and we moved here. He was too grown up to even be on the same side of the house as his father," the ex-baseball player explained despondently.

Monta frowned. "This is really a castle, right?" Honjou tossed back his head and laughed. "What?!"

"Raimon, you're going to get lost if you don't hurry up."

"You said this wasn't a castle!" Monta hollered back, hitching up his bag and chasing after Taka's retreating back. "If you can get lost in it, it's a castle, bro."

"I said, don't call me bro."

"Bro, this is gonna be a long three weeks if you say that every time."

The echo of Honjou's renewed laughter faded slowly.

…

The first day in Osaka had been an easy, leisurely one. After a small lunch (which to anyone else was the size of a full dinner. Yay amefuto players' endless stomachs. Even Taka could put a surprising amount away), Honjou forced Taka to help him show Monta around. First driving him to an actual castle, the Osaka Castle, which Monta spent the whole time comparing to the Honjou residence and discussing 'renovations' in a loud snooty voice while Honjou played along and called everything quaint . Then, they went to Tsutenkaku Tower, just to compare everything to Tokyo Tower in voices that echoed - Taka had to forcibly push them into the elevator before some hot-tempered Osakan started throwing projectiles (a few already tried, and had gotten visibly livid when Honjou and Monta had easily caught them and tried to 'kindly return them'). Then, just after the sun had set, Honjou managed to get them straight to the front of the line and onto a Doutonbori canal boat just as the all the lights of the city and canal blazed to life. Monta wended and twisted his way back and forth over the deck of the ship, looking from one shore to the next and unable to stand still. He'd done the tourist thing a bit the few times he'd come in the past, but normally they came for amefuto related reasons and hadn't had a lot of time to really sightsee. He took picture after picture of the entire afternoon, lots of them awkwardly angled selfies with the men much taller than him squeezing into the frame (Taka very reluctantly). After the canal, Honjou took them to a classy, famous sushi restaurant and dared the younger men to try the fugu. Taka had kept a perfectly stoic face, neither disapproving nor rhapsodizing over it. Monta had promptly spat it back out and stared at the sashimi platter with a green face.

Honjou just grinned and waved down a waiter to send the leftovers to his house and took them to a hole in the wall okonomiyaki restaurant with questionably dirty chopsticks but very clean spatulas and griddles. Monta learned how to eat like an Osakan, forgoing the chopsticks and eating straight off the paddle- and burning his lips in the process. Taka had protested leaving the classier restaurant for a dive , but he ate like his father and Monta- straight off the paddle and in large, steady bites. Unlike Monta, he was expert at it, lips and cheeks unburnt and face clean of sauce.

Monta was gaping at his technique, flecks dotting his cheeks and bottom lip burnt red, when Honjou cleared his throat.

"There's still a lot to see, and we didn't even have a whole day to see it all," Honjou began. Monta nodded and shovelled in more okonomiyaki, hissing through his teeth at the new burn. "There's Umeda and Taka's favorite, the Botanical Gardens, and the Ferris Wheel and Aquarium, but… I think I have the perfect last thing. We have a few more weekends to fit in everything else. At the very least, Taka could show you around again."

Taka shrugged noncommittally. His focus was very centered on cooking his last okonomiyaki perfectly.

"Where're we gonna go?" Monta questioned around a too-full-mouth. Taka sighed and slapped a napkin over Monta's face.

"No one wants to see that."

Monta sputtered and grumbled, but wiped off his face and swallowed before opening his mouth again. "Honjou-sensei?"

Honjou, instead of answering, was leaning his bushy chin on his interlaced fingers and smiling mysteriously at both of them. Brown eyes twinkled, something like his usual mirth, but also something… different. Monta frowned, perplexed at the strangely thoughtful look.

"It's a surprise, actually. Finish up, boys, and let's head out."

"I'm twenty-one, father. Raimon is twenty. We're not exactly boys," Taka replied as he smoothly lifted the last okonomiyaki onto the spatula.

Monta eyed it wistfully. With an eye roll, Taka set it back down, cut it neatly down the middle, and scooped up half. With an exuberant crow, Monta snatched up the rest. All done without a word exchanged between them.

Monta didn't notice the gleam get gleamier in Honjou's gaze. Dinner ended soon after and they bundled back into the car.

To end up here, like this-

"I don't see why I have to do this. This is your idea," Taka said, voice obviously exasperated.

"Even blind, I can tell what your face looks like, Tak. Stop being such a spoilsport," Monta scoffed, flapping his hand in what he hoped was Taka's direction. His hand met chin and he was rewarded with Taka's undignified huff-grunt sound of surprise. Monta snickered. Something creaked ahead of him and a heavy door swished open.

"You two stay here, I'll be right back. Don't you drop your hands, Taka, until it's the right time. I'll be very disappointed if you ruin the surprise," Honjou warned. The sound of his footsteps, loud and echoing, quickly faded into the distance.

Wherever they were, it was… big. And kinda cool but stuffy at the same time. There wasn't a lot of breeze, so they couldn't be outside? But there weren't any people around, so what kind of huge building was without people? Monta scowled under Taka's patiently still hands.

"Bro, where are we?" Monta hissed.

"My father is nowhere near. Why are you whispering," Taka replied, nonplussed.

Monta gesticulated wildly and uselessly. "I dunno! It seems like a good idea!"

Something thudded, like loud muffled clacks, and light seared through Taka's fingers over Monta's eyes. Monta squawked in surprise and wondered why the sound seemed so familiar.

"Walk forward, Raimon, carefully. There's a step- good."

"Is that astroturf?"

Taka made a slight, impressed sound, but didn't agree or disagree. A suspicion entered Monta's head and a grin began to spread across his face.

"Close your eyes, and then open them," Taka instructed. Monta quickly squished his eyes closed and Taka's hands fell away. The Enma junior blinked his eyes open before Taka's fingers were completely away and outright gasped.

"Kyocera Dome! I knew it!" Monta exclaimed, jumping and whooping in the air. He laughed when his whoop echoed and was immediately followed up with a yell from somewhere in the stands- obviously Honjou. "This is the best!"

He spun around to see Taka actually smiling, hands shoved in his pockets. "It's not bad. I'm pretty sure my father's bringing a ball and mitts."

"Holy shit! We're gonna play catch with your dad in Kyocera Dome ?" Monta repeated, grabbing Taka's arms tightly and not-quite shaking him. Taka huffed.

"You'll be catching. I suggest you roll the ball to my father or me," Taka advised seriously, though the teasing glint in his eye was too much like his father's and gave him away.

"Ya jerk!" Monta shouted, leaping up high enough to lock an arm around Taka's neck and drag him down to Monta's height. Taka grunted, grabbing at Monta's startlingly strong arm, but letting his hair fall to cover his face. The sounds coming from underneath the screen of ivory hair was definitely not the choking sounds Monta was trying to achieve. It was definitely laughter- at Monta's expense. He re-doubled his efforts, knuckles digging into Taka's hair while Taka tried in vain to pull Monta's arm away.

In the middle of Monta's smug laughter, Taka gave up on his current plan and just went for a tackle. Monta yelped, air punching out of him the minute arms crashed around his torso, and they both fell hard to the turf. It became a tangle of limbs and fists- mostly Monta's while Taka deftly avoided blows and caught elbows- until someone over them cleared their throat loudly.

Both "not boys" looked up, red-faced and wheezing, to see Honjou smirking down at them. "You do realize this is a baseball diamond, not a gridiron," he mocked haughtily.

"He started it!" Monta cried. Taka deadpanned up at Monta, clearly unimpressed.

Mitts hit their faces and made them shout in protest.

"Get off your lazy butts and play ball, boys."

"Please, don't try and teach Raimon how to throw," Taka pleaded, getting to his feet and patting at his clothes.

"I can learn! I've gotten better!"

"You bloodied your nose, two days ago, with a water bottle."

"Ah, well, it was a bad day." Monta shoved the mitt on his hand, sullen and pouting. A baseball flying towards his head broke through the sulks and an impromptu- and inevitably wild- game of catch began.

…

Monta's first few days at his internship were both exciting and boring. As an intern, he basically kept the coffee pot full (which was harder than it sounded, these people were exhausted caffeine addicts) and did a whole lot of filing. So much filing. He made copies and ran missent mail to the right inboxes and shredded papers upon papers. Every evening back at the Honjou house had him yawning through dinners and movies, but with enough energy still buzzing through his veins to go jogging with Taka or video-gaming with Honjou. Then, came his first shadow day. The morning was dedicated to a senior homeless shelter, something Monta was a little familiar with thanks to the soup kitchen volunteering he kept up with Mamori. They made rice in a pot the size of the bathtub, and miso in another, and grilled so many fish, they probably could've repopulated a small lake. Garlic-smothered vegetables were cooked in giant pans, and everyone had to wear hairnets and mitts. It was… sad… seeing all those hungry, dirty, old people and knowing they had nowhere else to go, but most of them smiled at him, commenting on seeing a 'new face', and thanking him, even with a simple grateful-sounding grunt. Not all, but most.

But then he went to a kid's home. The house mom was run-ragged with permanent bruises of missing sleep under her eyes. The kids wore clothes that didn't quite fit, and slept too many to a room. Sure, they had their own beds and a roof over their heads and they went to the nearest public school. But everything was secondhand and hand-me-downs, even their textbooks. They lit up when he re-inflated their old soccer ball and ran around hollering and cheering for them. He learned their names, but not their stories, and saw the distrust and anger lurking in the older kids' eyes.

Teens just a few years younger than him. Stuck in a system that told them to be grateful for the scraps they got. Kids even younger who talked about their dreams like some kids talked about Santa Claus; a nice story that wasn't real.

The last few hours in the offices were a blur of paperwork and coffee mugs and he barely even noticed the long walk back to the Honjou house.

A house even bigger than the group home with so many fewer inhabitants inside. The irony burned in his stomach like a hot knife, and Monta stood on the porch listening to the wisteria rustling in the evening breeze and staring at the door knob. The door moved on its own to reveal a concerned-looking Taka, running shoes on and house keys in hand.

"Raimon!" Taka blurted in confusion. Raimon started in shock, eyes wide and glassy. "Raimon," the older receiver repeated much softer and kindly. "What are you doing out here?"

"I…" Monta broke off and shook his head. "I just got lost. In my head, I guess. I… when did I get here?" he muttered, heavy brows contracting close and low, honestly baffled as he looked around himself. Concern morphed into outright worry and creased Taka's normally unruffled, placid features.

"It's time for dinner. Come on," Taka said, hand gripping Monta's shoulder and guiding him in.

Silence reigned at the dinner table. A few times Honjou, even Taka, attempted to break it. But their sentences petered out quickly and awkwardly at Monta's uncharacteristic quiet. He wasn't even eating like he usually did. Nothing had ever affected his appetite like this… maybe back when he first realized the game against Teikoku was against his role model's son, that was the closest comparison to the crushing weight in his chest now. Time and time again, he'd raise his chopsticks and forget halfway, just setting them back down listlessly. A few times, he'd even gotten the chopsticks to his mouth only to bite down on wood, food long having fallen off slack chopsticks.

Monta finally set the chopsticks aside and got to his feet. "Thanks for dinner, but I need to go sit for a minute," he mumbled towards the table. Honjou and Taka exchanged fleeting glances, perplexed and needing extra time to sort out what Monta said.

"Yes, of course, should I save it for you?" Honjou asked, half-rising.

"Uh, yeah, that's… I'll probably be hungry later, right?" Monta agreed, rubbing the back of his neck and chuckling awkwardly. He bobbed his head in a strange bow-like motion and then trudged away. His shoulders rose up high around his ears, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

He hadn't had a destination in mind when he gave up on trying to eat and left. Hiding in a corner somewhere wasn't really his style either. He'd always preferred the outside, and that's where his feet led him. There wasn't a lot of sunlight left, the sky bathed in orange and pink by a sunset he couldn't see, and he shuffled down the steps into the backyard. Unlike so many Japanese houses, there was a huge swatch of open field out back. Not a koi pond or fountain or tree to disturb it, just gently swishing grass and the clean, fresh smell of dirt under his house slippers. He went straight to the middle of the lawn, kicked off his slippers, toed off his socks, and sunk his bare, wiggly toes into the cool grass.

With a groaning sigh, he flopped onto his back, breath gusting out of him as his back hit the dirt hard. Sooner or later, one of them would come out, but right now it was him and the grass and the sunset and the trees along the edges of the yard. The rustling of leaves was a white noise that melted into his head and pushed out all the wordless thoughts in there. Finally clearing it out so he could think.

"This is what melancholy is," Monta whispered to himself.

A shadow fell over him and Taka's face, mouth quirking up, looked down at him. "I see you pay more attention than I give you credit for."

Monta's smirk mirrored Taka's. "Just a little."

Taka slowly lowered down to the grass and wrapped his arms around his knees loosely. "Your field practicum today?" Taka prompted quietly. The smirk died away and Monta threw his arm over his eyes.

"At the old folks' place… we were there to feed 'em, yanno? I'm used to that, it's sad, but it's almost expected. It was a soup kitchen and these poor homeless grampas, even grammas, come in and they're hungry, but… those kids…" Monta trailed off, teeth gritting painfully, tightly enough to creak. "They're fed, but they looked at me like they were hungry, too, Taka. And I didn't know how to help. There's nothing for me to do. No matter what I do and how much I give, there's never gonna be enough."

"Raimon."

"No, you don't get it!" Monta burst out, hand clenching into a fist and pounding the ground. "I thought I was an adult. I thought I made this choice and it'd mean something," he spat, a trail of wet heat sliding over his cheek, tickling through his hair and pooling in his ears. "But I'm just a kid, Taka. I look at them and I just… I feel…" Monta choked on what he felt, what he didn't have the words to describe.

"Humble." Monta sniffled hard and rubbed at his face. When he finally blinked over at Taka, the older man was staring into the distance solemnly. "It's as if all the advantages and gifts you've been given mean nothing. You're small pebble against the tide of the ocean."

"Yeah." Monta pushed onto his elbows and stared down at his dirty bare toes. "Yeah, that's it."

"Does this mean you want to give up?" Taka's voice was tonelessly, carefully neutral.

But the words still put Monta's back up. He'd never given up on anything in his life. Only baseball, and only because he could still be the best catcher in Honjou-sensei's memory in amefuto. And because the Devilbats had needed him in a way baseball hadn't.

"...If it means I can make even the smallest difference… if it means they can smile just one more time that day because of me… I can't give that up. I can't stop because it's hard, right?" Monta whispered, feeling in his gut the answer but wanting to hear Taka say it out loud.

Taka turned to him with an enigmatic, but soft smile. "You're a better man than I, Raimon Taro. You're more selfless and stronger. However," Taka paused and reached out to grip Monta's shoulder tightly. "Don't forget to take care of you. If you give all those that need your help everything of yourself, what will be left for the rest of us who care about you? Leave us something to care for, when you're weak or unsure, we'll be here."

Monta grinned bashfully and ducked his head. His nose stung and his eyes burned, but the helplessness that had been dragging him down- a pebble in the tide - was ebbing away. "Yeah… I can do that."

Taka's hand squeezed once more and fell away. "Shall we stay out here a while longer, or go inside?"

Monta scratched his cheek and cast his eyes heavenward. "Maybe out here a little while longer, but… uh… when we go in… maybe we can hang out and watch a movie or something? I'm not ready to think just yet."

"When are you ever ready to think, Raimon?"

"Hey! See, that's a joke! A really bad joke! You bastard!" Monta laughed though, carefree and light.

…

The last thing Monta remembered was watching some old One Piece re-runs (not Taka's choice). There had been a guzzled-down cold dinner, getting changed into pajamas, and crashing in Taka's room to talk him into watching anime all night. There had been arguing over the usefulness of different Straw Hat talents (stretchy limbs versus sword skills, etc) a few episodes later, and then…

Monta moaned under his breath, eyelids squeezing even closer together at the burning red light seeping past the skin into his retinas. Sleep. He must've fallen asleep. He couldn't remember leaving the room, but he must've, because he was in a bed, not on the floor or couch. His limbs were sprawled spread-eagle over the bed like usual, and he was definitely flat on his back. Check check check.

So what was different? What was wrong?

His chest rose with his breath and it felt… heavy. And something was all twisted around his arm and on his shoulder. And he was really really warm. He always managed to kick his blankets off in his sleep, so he normally woke up pretty cool. But a whole side of him was hot. The heavy side, actually. Smacking sticky lips together, he willed his eyes to open. It took even more willpower to open them enough to see and then crane his neck awkwardly to look down. To his chest.

Where pale hair gleamed.

Monta's eyes darted up to the ceiling, almost bulging out of their sockets, and yeah, definitely not sleepy anymore. Passing out on Sena's or Riku's bed after marathonning some show all night- that he was used to. They were roommates, and Sena had been his bestie since they were fifteen. But he and Taka had never crossed this line before. It was different with Taka. They didn't even really hug.

And now Taka was pressed up to his side, head resting in that space between chest and shoulder, one arm laid across Monta's torso, one leg pinning Monta's underneath. Monta's tanktop he wore to bed had ridden up his stomach- which, yeah, that normally happened, but normally a hand wasn't splayed over the muscles of his stomach and the band of his boxers, too!

Why was this so weird?! Why in the world was he freaking out this bad!? They were two bros, watching anime, and they passed out in the wee hours of the night-morning. So they woke up in a strangely homoerotic position. Psshh, who cares? Just shake it off, Monta, let's go.

But, despite his max logical and awesome argument with himself, he was frozen. Stuck to the bed, body pinned down by Taka's weight that was heavier than it ought to be, and every point of contact burned. Blood rushed to Monta's face, making him dizzy and flushed. Finally- thank God finally - Taka murmured drowsily and shifted. The weight lifted and Taka's hand dragged over Monta's stomach agonizingly slow. Goosebumps followed in the wake of that damn hand.

"Hn."

Monta jerked his head to side to stare dumbly over at the sleepily blinking Taka. Whose hair was a unruly fluffy mess, falling into his eyes and over his shoulders. Monta's hand twitched at his side, fighting an insane urge to reach up and touch. When the Saikyoudai player yawned, raising a hand to cover his mouth automatically, the baggy shirt he wore (with equally baggy sleep pants, he'd admitted to running cold in sleep) slipped and- no

No

No way

Not happening

Monta was not in this kind of movie.

Taka's bared neck and bared shoulder should not be sending heat into the pit of Monta's stomach like the taller receiver was the hot chick in a romcom. Monta's mouth should not be going dry at the sight of Taka's hand running through his own hair, pushing it out of his ridiculously perfect face. The heat in his belly should not be pooling lower, tightening and tugging in his gut into all too familiar ache that boxers would not be able to hide.

Monta sat up abruptly, knees lifting and heart pounding too fast in his chest.

"Feeling better after a night of badly drawn cartoons?" Taka drawled, voice hoarse and deeper than usual.

Monta was gonna crawl into a pit of despair and die because his dick was doing things it shouldn't be doing. 'Cause Monta was straight and a deep manly voice should not be doing things to him! Or his dick!

"Y-Yeah," Monta croaked.

Taka's eyebrow rose as he swung his legs off the bed. "No argument that anime is not cartoons? That I just don't understand artistic style?" he asked in bemusement.

"I-I- yeah, all that, just- sleepy. Can't think good in the morning," Monta stammered and forced out. Taka shook his head and his mane of pretty pale hair slid over the ball of his shoulder.

Broad shouldered. Muscley bicep, look at those guns. Very dude shoulder.

Dude, not a girl, dude , Monta repeated in his head like a mantra.

Without another word, Taka stood and headed towards the bathroom. Frozen once more and knees bent to hide his lap, Monta breathed a silent exhale of gratitude. Just in time for Taka to negligently pull his shirt over his head and drop it in the laundry basket just inside his private bathroom.

That long sweep of his spine, wide shoulders narrowing into a deceptively slender waist, the dimples in his lower back- all leading like an arrow pointed down to high, tight ass under baggy pants. The door closed on Monta's wild- and wide-eyed gaping, to both his relief and agony.

In a flurry of blankets, Monta scrambled to the edge of the bed, tripping and flailing with a painful thud to the hardwood floor. He was on his feet and racing with a distinct waddle into the hallway before Taka even re-opened his bathroom door in concern at the noise, toothbrush in his mouth.

Monta's door slammed at his back and he panted harsh and loud into the blessed privacy of his guest room. Distantly, he could hear the water running for Taka's shower, but he was not thinking of his good buddy Taka naked. Nope.

'Cuz Monta was straight and there wasn't anything pretty or sexy about men, nope. He valiantly ignored his dick- which had completely different ideas- and told himself it was obviously a fluke. He was twenty, a virgin, and morning wood, okay? No telling what was happening with that. Yeah, that was it. That was all.

A fluke.

Definitely.

A/N: Sorry about the mix up if you tried to read this as soon as I uploaded it. The copy-n-paste function didn't blood work right. Also, if you're not a fan of the no-homo-str8-boi panic (which, normally, neither am I) this ain't for you. It should be pretty... easy to get through it, though. I'm not gonna do a massive story of will they won't they drama. It'll be four (maybe 3) chapters long with a definite ending. And if you've read my ShinSena series, this takes place in that universe, but in the future. In Monta and Sena's third year, summer vacation (which is in between the two semester. In Japan, the college year begins in April.)