Flash fiction. The writing is very clunky but I had to get this out of my system.
. . .
"It's Sena, duh," Monta would respond if you asked. His answer would be quick and easy, and reflect his clear feelings.
But if you asked Sena, he would hesitate for a very small moment, before grinning and saying, "Monta's my best friend."
(It wasn't always like that. Very clearly, in elementary school, Sena's best friend had been Riku. When he'd moved, Sena was left in limbo. No best friend to hang out with; Mamori with her own circle; no bullies realizing that Riku was no longer in the picture (yet).)
. . .
Of course Monta is Sena's best friend. Of course.
And yet.
. . .
If someone were to ask Shin, he'd probably answer coolly after a careful pause: "Sakuraba, I suppose."
Shin doesn't have many close friends, has a loose group of people he could call friends. His parents say he's very… intense, stoic even. Not everyone can handle that. It's also hard to keep in contact, what with Shin's technologic illiteracy laying waste to numerous phones. His teammates understand him a bit more, fueled by similar athletic endeavors, and pass on any necessary information through Shin's parents via voicemail.
So, Shin would guess the closest approximation of a best friend would be Sakuraba. The answer works well enough.
. . .
Who do you feel closest to?
. . .
They don't say a word as Sena joins Shin on his jogging route, just a quick nod between them to signal that they acknowledged each other.
If pressed, they would describe their relationship to each other as one of friendly rivals. They train to ensure a heated next match. They train to make sure the other doesn't leave them behind on the field. They train to feel the rhythmic pulse of adrenaline when they face off in a game. Rivals, allies, opponents, friends. The word doesn't matter. They know what they feel, and to them, that's enough.
(How could you say you were closer to anyone else but the person who bettered you after every single encounter?)