Author Note: Hello. A few words of explanation: I didn't particularly want to write a story that follows a set plot - my aim was to show their interactions and relationships in a casual setting. I'm not too confident about this fic, but I still hope it's enjoyable as it is (especially for Hyoutei fans). Thank you for reading! :)

Whack.

'Oi, Jirou, wake up!'

Jirou yawns loudly and cracks his eyes open while still half-lying on the counter of his family's dry cleaning business.

'You didn't have to hit me, Gakuto,' he says drowsily, rubbing his eyes.

'Like hell I didn't!' replies Mukahi testily. 'Aren't you forgetting that you're supposed to be minding the place right now?'

'Ohh …'

Mukahi snorts and plops on a plastic folding chair. There's no one but them inside and it's quiet, save for the soft tune coming from a small radio. Jirou doesn't even seem to notice, as he could probably sleep even through the sound of an alarm siren.

'Seriously, your parents should know better than to leave you here alone,' remarks Mukahi.

He still has absolutely no idea who could think it's fine to leave him like this – Jirou's family are, after all, perfectly aware of his tendency to fall asleep at the most inappropriate of times. Maybe they trust him and Shishido to wake Jirou up, but Mukahi is not Jirou's babysitter and neither is Shishido.

'But Gakuto,' Jirou begins, scratching the back of his head, 'didn't you end up playing video games the last time –?'

'Th – that's different!' retorts Mukahi, his face an ugly, blotchy red. 'I did it out of spite and –' He really did. It's not like he forgot or anything; he just hates being ordered around by his father and hey, the consoles are there on display, so he was basically advertising it for free, right? And all his friends know to buy electronics at their shop, so his parents should be grateful and overlook that one time, if anything!

Jirou laughs heartily and flashes a toothy grin. He looks more awake now, even though his head is resting comfortably on top of his folded arms on the counter.

'Anyway,' says Mukahi and starts fiddling with a box on his lap.

Jirou, who failed to notice the container before, has now perked up and his interest is showing in his eyes.

'Food?' he asks hopefully.

'Yeah. Mum made too much again and told me to bring you some.' Mukahi sets the box on the counter and slides it in Jirou's direction. 'So there's rice, beef and some salad –'

Jirou glances up at him while opening the lid, and says: 'But no tomatoes –?'

'Yeah, yeah,' assures Mukahi, waving his hand dismissively. 'I know you hate them, and Mum knows it, too. She even gave me some Pocky for you,' he adds, rolling his eyes. 'I think she likes you more than me. She finds you endearing.'

With his mouth already full, Jirou happily mumbles, 'I love her too!'

'Eww, Jirou, that's disgusting,' Mukahi cringes and shakes his head.

Then, he whips out the latest issue of Weekly Shounen Jump to finish his favourite sports manga. He was forced to go to the Akutagawas' with food just as he was getting to the best part of the chapter. Talk about parents' timing …

Jirou shrugs and continues to eat, but at some point he remarks: 'I thought you'd be with Oshitari today.'

'Mm.' Mukahi doesn't look up from the manga. 'We were supposed to go to the cinema, but then I saw him smiling creepily while reading a synopsis of some chick flick in that magazine of his,' he elaborates. 'Yuushi can be so gross with his romance novels and films … I don't think I could stand the film itself, much less Yuushi's sobs and pathetic nose-blowing,' says Mukahi with a disturbed face, flipping a page. 'What the hell; I can't believe this cliffhanger!'

Jirou laughs and spits out some food in the process – thankfully not on Mukahi's Shounen Jump; he would have strangled Jirou otherwise – but then his expression suddenly becomes one of horror and he drops his chopsticks.

'I forgot!'

Mukahi cocks an eyebrow quizzically as he closes his magazine and puts it on the counter.

'Gakuto …'

'Huh?' he asks impatiently.

Jirou's voice is pleading and whiny as he repeats Mukahi's name over and over again without stating his purpose. It's like dealing with an overgrown (well, not exactly big, but bigger than the redhead, at least) child, and in Mukahi's opinion it's a pain in the neck.

'Sheesh, what is it already!?' he snaps, glaring at Jirou with irritation.

An innocent grin.

'Lend me some money?'

'What for?' asks Mukahi warily.

'Because … Ultra Jump –!'

Mukahi slaps one palm against his forehead and sighs.

'Oh for goodness' sake …' he groans.

'But, JoJo –!'

'All right, all right!' he agrees with resignation.

Jirou's face is bright like the sun and it's contagious. Mukahi can feel the corners of his mouth twitch upwards lightly, so he smirks smugly instead to retain his dignity.

'One condition, though.'

Jirou blinks and stares at him as he picks up the chopsticks again and goes back to his meal.

'Let's have a match.'

'Oh.'

Jirou seems to turn it over while he's eating, and finally says: 'I'm already meeting with Shishido at the street courts, though.'

Mukahi doesn't seem to understand how that's a problem and looks at him incredulously.

'So? He can come with Ootori and we could play doubles.'

He knows Jirou is a singles player, but he's sure he can cope – he is the second best Hyoutei regular in terms of skill, after all – and he's also sure that the other boy won't refuse when JoJo is on stake.

With a toothy grin, Jirou replies: 'Okay, then let's.'

They leave for the courts when Jirou's parents come back. Jirou is humming some tune quietly and smiling wide, but Mukahi knows that it's surely more because he'll get to read the new chapter of JoJolion. After all, Jirou is only really excited to play against Atobe, Marui Bunta and Fuji Shuusuke. Still, Mukahi is itching to play – the lack of practice on Wednesdays was never very good for his restless nature, and now that the Nationals are over with, they don't participate in any club activities at all – so he can't bring himself to care.

Not surprisingly, they lose 4–6. Ootori and Shishido haven't lost their knack even in the slightest. Mukahi thinks they probably still meet up to play, even though Shishido should be focusing more on middle school finals. At the same time, he and Jirou have never practised that much together since the beginning of middle school, so their combination is quite obviously lacking.

Shishido isn't really gloating, but Mukahi hates losing, so he tells him to shut up anyway and steals his Pocari Sweat.

'Oi, give it back!' growls Shishido and hits him on the arm.

'Buy your own,' Mukahi snaps back.

'This is my own, idiot!'

Ootori smiles somewhat awkwardly from another bench and throws a towel over his head, sipping his own drink. Jirou is already snoozing next to him, looking unfazed by the beads of sweat rolling down his face.

'Che. Don't you get too full of yourself, Shishido,' says Mukahi. 'You've only won because it was doubles.'

'Wasn't doubles your forte?' hisses Shishido with a scowl, watching the redhead finish his drink.

Mukahi does his best to ignore the comment and throws the empty bottle back at Shishido.

'I don't want it,' Shishido barks.

'You did, though,' Mukahi retorts.

Shishido removes his hat and starts using it as a makeshift fan, muttering something that sounds like 'Idiot' under his breath, but there's also the tiniest of smiles on his lips.

Meanwhile, Mukahi rummages in his bag and takes out his phone. His fingers move so fast over the keys that it looks like he's barely grazing them, but the faint clicks indicate otherwise.

'Phone addict,' says Shishido, wiping his face with a towel, and Mukahi shoots him a glare before chucking the device back inside his bag.

The redhead lifts the bag, slings it over his shoulder and begins walking away, but then he suddenly turns back on his feet and shouts impatiently: 'Oi, Shishido, so are you going or not!?'

'Huh?'

'Hurry up before I change my mind about buying you that drink, idiot!' Shishido stands up, sighing dramatically, and picks up his own bag. He mutters something about a certain redhead being the bane of his existence.

'Oi, Choutarou, Jirou. You guys going with us?' he asks.

As Ootori looks up, the towel slides down and falls to his shoulders. He's about to get up, when he feels a tug at the back of his shirt and settles for a polite no instead and tells him to go on ahead.

As Mukahi and Shishido are walking away, Ootori can see them hit each other with elbows and act like a pair of immature kids – even sticking their tongues out and mocking each other. A soft smile tugs at his lips when he says: 'Shishido-san and Mukahi-senpai are actually pretty good friends, aren't they?'

'Mm,' Jirou replies and yawns loudly. 'Don't ever try to say that to them, though. That's something they'll never admit.'

Ootori laughs and turns to look at Jirou.

'You've known one another for a long time, haven't you?'

'I guess so,' Jirou answers and grins.

Ootori is smiling, too, and a moment of silence follows. Ootori shifts on the bench before asking tentatively: 'Akutagawa-senpai, why did you stop me from going with them?'

Jirou sits up and hums as if deep in thought, but then he winks and says: 'I guess even Shishido deserves a moment of childishness, and he's too proud a senpai to allow himself one around you. Don't tell him that, though.'

Ootori's gaze softens and the smile just won't leave his lips.

'Perhaps you're right.'

The sun has begun to set and Ootori briefly wonders if he should leave soon, but then Jirou's voice says: 'There's also another thing, I guess.'

The expression on Ootori's face changes to one of mild confusion.

Jirou looks almost sheepish for a moment as he rubs his neck.

'Thanks for being Shishido's friend. I know he won't probably tell you that – it'd be hella lame, you know?' Jirou grins. 'He really appreciates it.'

There's the faintest of blushes on Ootori's cheeks and he clenches his fists nervously, staring at them.

'I – Thank you very much, Akutagawa-senpai, even though I don't think I've done anything special,' he blurts out awkwardly.

Jirou leans against his arm lazily and says: 'You like Shishido a lot, too, don't you, Chouta?'

'O – Of course I do! After all, Shishido-san is …' Ootori's voice trails off. 'I wish I could be more like him.'

'You're fine the way you are. That's what he likes about you, too.' Jirou smiles and yawns.

Ootori removes the towel from his neck and twists and turns it in his hands.

'But …' he begins tentatively. 'Are you really okay like this, Akutagawa-senpai?'

'Eh? Me?' Jirou sounds genuinely confused. 'Why wouldn't I?'

'I mean … If Shishido-san spends time with me, and Mukahi-san with Oshitari-senpai … isn't that unfair to you?'

Jirou smiles against Ootori's arm and closes his eyes.

'You're such a good guy, Chouta,' he says. 'Don't worry about that. It's not like we're strangers now, and I've got you, Atobe, Kaba-chan, HiyoC, Takkun and Oshitari, too. Aren't we all friends?'

Ootori smiles, too – Jirou can hear it – and relaxes a bit.

'I guess you're right.'

'Aren't I?' says Jirou gleefully and laughs. 'So stop worrying about it.'

They sit on the bench for a while longer, not saying anything. Ootori thinks that Jirou might have fallen asleep on him and he's too polite to move. He wonders again what time it is and wishes he could have gone with Shishido – he wanted to buy a new grip with him and talk a bit more – and it's then that Jirou speaks again:

'Hey, Chouta … Carry me home?'

Ootori's surprised and doesn't know if he should, but …

'I stole Shishido's Powerball,' whispers Jirou conspiratorially. 'You can give it back to him while you're at it.'

'Akutagawa-senpai …' Ootori laughs.

Jirou jumps off the bench and winks at him.

'I guess it can't be helped, then,' says Ootori and gets up with a smile.

Jirou grins.