Shikoku is hot.
Kanagawa is somehow just as hot.
Maybe that's not 5000% true because of the sea breeze that blows in from time to time, but it makes Niou bare his teeth all the same when he steps off the train and into the sun. He's also mad because he saw a tiny switch of his roots showing through this morning, and that's no way to start off his first day at middle school.
He tries to remember why he's here at Rikkai, can't quite piece that together (what a weird whim), and shrugs it off at the next minute because at least it's a bit cooler in the building itself.
In homeroom class 1-C, there aren't many interesting faces, though he certainly gets a few looks for his hair. Niou sits down, and picks at a loose screw on the top of his desk. Precisely three seconds before the bell rings, and another boy trots inside, jacket slung over one shoulder, tie loose, and girls already making those squeaky, annoying noises that they tend to make when someone cute is nearby.
Niou looks at him. The other kid looks back and makes the first eye contact that Niou's had all morning, smiles, and gracefully flops down into the desk next to him with a bounce of his curls.
The kid is in his P.E. class too, apparently, first thing in the morning.
"For the first day of class, let's just have a free day!"
Niou wishes he'd skipped. He wishes, briefly, that he was back in Shikoku, though that passes in the next moment when he remembers the heat tenfold.
"Ah, Niou-kun, wasn't it?"
Sulking in a corner only does so much, apparently. Niou squints from where he slouches and prods at ants with a stick. It's that kid, big-eyed and sweet-faced, though there's a touch of conniving in those violet eyes. Niou can tell. He's got his gym uniform jacket slung over his shoulders, and a tennis racket in hand. "Do you play tennis?" he lightly asks. "If not, I can teach you. I just want someone to play with."
Niou grunts. "I play."
The kid's face lights up like that one bonfire three years ago that Niou still vividly remembers. "Do you have a racket? I have spares. I'm Yukimura, by the way!"
There's no way he's getting out of this, he guesses. "Yeah. Okay."
Let it be known that Yukimura Seiichi is gentle up until the point he realizes a person is actually pretty good, and then there's no mercy in his swing, no mercy in his steps, no mercy anywhere, especially in the gleam of his eyes and the easy, unbowing line of his shoulders, the way his body is one deft, continuous motion that never falters, never misses.
He's like a dancer. That's the only way Niou can qualify that kind of grace.
Niou falls in love a little bit, even if he's dizzy and wants to puke and can't really move right after the match is over.
He skulks his way along to tennis club sign-ups after classes are over, and there's no surprise in seeing Yukimura there.
There's no surprise in seeing that Yukimura has other friends either. If Niou has to sort people into boxes, the taller one looks every bit like a samurai. Maybe he was one in his past life. Niou wouldn't put it past him.
The other one, lean and willowy and ever-analytical, makes Niou think of accountants. He doesn't like a lot of numbers, so that's sort of gross.
He falls out of love (tries to, about 50% complete at the meter) the moment that he sees Yukimura stretch up on tiptoe to whisper something into Samurai's ear, and the way his face immediately flushes, his brow furrows and his hands twitch with the obvious urge to grab Yukimura and do something about whatever he said makes Niou roll his eyes skyward. Married. If not married yet, soon.
"Niou-kun! Are you joining?"
Yukimura smiles, Niou shrugs, and Samurai gives him a look that reeks of suspicion. Accountant might be looking at him. Not sure, those eyes aren't right. "Yeah." He waves the slip. "Turning this in now." His mom would be proud, he doesn't make a habit of extra curriculars (or anything).
"You didn't write your given name on your club form," Samurai spits out, and Niou shrugs, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.
"Yeah. I don't like it."
Yukimura starts laughing, and that's it for trying not to like him.
Yukimura is the kind of guy that would normally really, really piss Niou off.
He's got a charisma to him that draws everyone to him, the kind of charisma that everyone is focused on, everyone writes stories about, and Niou doesn't like the idea of being just another person that's drawn into his so-called gravitational field. He doesn't like thinking about how Yukimura is friendly and courageous enough to climb one grouchy, unpleasant Sanada Genichirou like a tree on a daily basis, or make soft-spoken, odd Yanagi Renji smile and laugh behind his hand.
He doesn't like how Yukimura Seiichi can make him give a shit about a sport that he'd only dabbled in before, only found himself mildly interested in because he's kind of naturally good at it, but Niou finds himself at the tennis courts every day, slouching against the fence or draped over a bench when he isn't practicing and itching for a chance to play Yukimura again.
The kid is better than their current captain, and that's saying something. Rikkai's got a rep for sports, Niou has learned that much. Tennis is their forte, and their Nationals title has run for some time. Too bad Rikkai is a land of merits and pride, but Yukimura is biding his time, Niou can tell. He's got some plans-long-laid plans, full of secrets and diplomacy and when Niou sees that crafty glint in his eye, it makes him hard (back in love, 50%).
A girl confesses to him later that day, and Niou accepts, just to have a girlfriend for that week at the very least. She's soft and warm and fun to kiss, and that's nice while it lasts.
It doesn't stop him from thinking about tennis. This is a sickness. He should be practicing demolition.
They make it to Nationals. He plays doubles with Yanagi and they win, predictably.
Niou doesn't care that much about the trophy, but it makes Yukimura so flush with excitement and energy that it's kind of contagious. He finds himself smiling, too, and suddenly, sweating in Tokyo's heat isn't so bad when they've kicked a lot of ass and Yukimura's convinced Sanada to take the four of them out to a celebration dinner on his savings that he never touches. The upperclassmen decline to come, asshats.
Niou still feels out of place, but that's nothing new. He's always out of place, one way or another, even when he, Yanagi, and Sanada are up to their necks in beef and Yukimura's the only one tenderly grilling fish.
Niou is relieved that the rest of summer break is a training camp to gear up for the upcoming year, actually. It means he doesn't have to think about going home.
It also means that he thinks about tennis a lot more than he used to, and that's weird, but he has mostly accepted that he has tennis plague.
Also, he helps Yukimura make Sanada's life even more of a living hell for the next couple of weeks, and that is excellent.
He's never been a competitive person. There's no point in it. He's always gotten what he's wanted, one way or another, and with tennis, he has never cared, so what was the point in being competitive?
Yukimura is the opposite.
Niou would have thought that Sanada was the real competitive person on their team, the one that would snarl and hiss if he wasn't up to par. It isn't, though. It's Yukimura, a surprising whirlwind of energy the moment he steps on the court, the one that doesn't get upset at his opponent, but himself when he is anything but perfect, no matter how he snaps and bristles and hisses.
Niou wonders what it's like to have that kind of passion in something.
(100% back in love, damn it.)
"So," Niou casually asks one day when nearly everyone else has left and the clubroom is empty, "have you ever…you know."
Yukimura blinks at him, stupid wide eyes and stupid heart-shaped face and stupid amounts of sweetness that isn't at all real, as he stretches up on tiptoe to tuck something into his locker. "Huh?"
Sanada isn't here, thank god. "You ever thought about doing something? With another guy?"
There's a long pause. Across from them, a cute redhead chokes on his gum before skittering out. Yukimura just looks at him quizzically, and Niou sighs, shoves his hands into his pockets, and pointedly leans in, nice and close, their breath mingling. Yukimura smells good, even after practice-like salt and exertion and fresh, clean earth and a little bit like Sanada, or maybe that's just his deodorant he borrowed before practice.
The close vicinity and attempt gets the point across, apparently, and Yukimura immediately steps back, something like nervousness and amusement all wrapped up into one on his face. "Ah. No."
Niou's brow knits. "No?"
Yukimura smiles back very nicely, and clearly expects him to get it. "No."
Ah. Well. There's that, then. Niou does get it, for all that's worth. He gets there's someone else, and he is at least 3000% sure that someone else is tall and grouchy and currently doing disciplinary committee things. He shrugs, backing up. Lucky bastard. "Gotcha." Puri.
Falling out of love by necessity, 100% complete.
Yukimura is handed the gilded crown of captaincy, and there is much rejoicing.
He's not weird about the other day at all, which is good. Niou almost expects him to be. Mainlanders really can be. Instead, Yukimura just smiles at him like he always does, and Niou is glad.
They play tennis together, an easy rally, and Niou is even more glad that he's here.
At the end of the day when fall rankings are over, there are at least fifteen pairs of kids that aren't bad, but the ones they all end up chatting up are Marui Bunta, cute and redheaded and always snacking on something, and Kuwahara Jackal, a really smoking hot guy that transferred from Brazil. Cool.
It becomes a thing that they all hang out together, and Niou is glad it's usually after practice, because the sun isn't so high and he isn't feeling the tendency to melt.
The new school year starts, and that brings out a whole new level of excitement.
The thing about Yukimura is he just keeps getting better. Niou thinks that's fascinating. The really interesting thing is where that drive comes from, because Niou is sure if he were the best at something, he wouldn't keep pushing so hard to be even better. He'd end up mad and stop for a bit and let someone else catch up. That's the whole point of a game, right?
These are the things he thinks about even after practice when he's waiting around with Marui and Jackal for Sanada and Yukimura and Yanagi to get their damned real shoes on and get out of the school building so they can all go and catch a bite to eat somewhere.
"Buchou," Marui pipes up, bouncing on his heels as they trot down the street, "what kind of cake do you want for your birthday? I'll make it for you!"
"Fatty," Niou mutters, and even when their school uniforms conceal quite a bit, especially in the winter, he has to let his eyes wander to Marui's thighs.
"Eh? What? What did you say, Niou?"
"Puri."
"Mmm, anything is fine. Sanada? Preferences?"
There's a noncommittal grunt that comes from their resident love-stricken vice-captain, and Niou rolls his eyes to the sky before he ducks his head down into his scarf again. Yukimura translates: "Dark chocolate would be amazing."
Marui looks incredibly excited. "Done!"
Niou wonders more about when he ended up with a group of friends, especially ones that buy hot sticky buns with him and split them several ways after tennis practice.
"Honestly," Yukimura tells him one day, tapping a pencil against his clipboard, "I think you'd be a great doubles player, Niou. You have a great eye for scoping out your opponents; you just sometimes get a bit distracted and need direction."
At that, Niou just shrugs. He's learned that for the most part, what comes out of Yukimura's mouth about tennis is just right. "Whatever you say, boss."
"With Yanagi is one thing, but…he's not really suited to you."
Or anyone, Niou dryly thinks.
The thought haunts him for awhile, and he tries to think of who he could actually play with. Marui and Jackal are part of a set, and useless when separated. Yanagi is just eh, and Sanada is painful to think about. Yukimura hates doubles, even if he's never said as much, and so Niou know he's left as a useless link, lingering to the side no matter his consistency.
The problem is that he wants to play, and wants to be a part of the team that can be depended upon.
Shit, that sounds normal.
In an attempt to resume delinquency, he skips the next few practices and wanders around the school grounds instead. All it ends up doing is end up making him think, and wish that he were a golfball.
If there is one thing Yukimura trusts him about, it's having a fine eye for people that don't suck. Niou considers that a pretty high compliment.
"If he's good," Yukimura simply says, "bring him in."
Yagyuu Hiroshi isn't that good…yet. Niou's going to work on that before he actually tells the guy to join the club. At least Yagyuu has some motivation, though, in Yukimura's lean silhouette leaning against the tennis cages as he shouts at a few first years, and Niou takes some pleasure in bouncing a ball up into Yagyuu's face and knocking his glasses off before he can ogle for too long.
It only takes a month before Yagyuu plays on par with him, and Niou briefly worries that he's got a thing for guys that are just good at tennis, and fuck, that's a weird thing to have, because he wants to do a lot of traveling and places like Egypt don't really have a lot of tennis going on.
"Welcome to the club, Yagyuu-kun!"
Yagyuu goes a little wobbly-kneed when Yukimura smiles at him, and Niou makes a point to steal his stupid notebook later and make fun of all of his awful, awful poetry.
Kirihara is fun to poke. Niou is also like, 87% sure that Sanada and Yukimura mated and created him out of magical tennis things, because he looks like both of them merged together as one. Fucking weird.
And shit, if he can fool Kirihara into believing that he's Sanada once, he's going to do this to everyone at least five times-except Yukimura. Yukimura can tell.
When they win the Nationals again, it just seems usual. This must be what it means to be fucking outstanding. Rikkai is outstanding. He's part of something outstanding.
Yeah, that's really good.
Niou wonders if he tries to take apart their Nationals trophy and hide things in it, if Yukimura will get mad.
Sometimes, Niou ends up looking at the way Yagyuu plays, and it makes getting through practice a nightmare when his dick is that hard.
For all the strength of him, he's tall and lean and elegantly put together. The only thing really wrong with the idiot is that his eyes keep straying to Yukimura, and that's an odd mix of emotions that Niou feels every time. On one hand, it makes him twitchy and protective, leaving him with an urge to smack Yagyuu and tell him to back the fuck off because Yukimura is taken (married), isn't it fucking obvious?
On the other hand, it makes him want to snatch Yagyuu over by the tie and kiss him stupid, because hey, where are you looking when I'm right here?
It fucking sucks.
What sucks more is the first time that Yagyuu beats him in a practice match, and there's nothing like the sting of that defeat to make him realize that skirting by on talent isn't good enough, that there's a reason why Yukimura constantly works to improve (stay better than everyone)-
But it's fine, because Yagyuu is his doubles partner now, and there's no reason to beat him.
It's better if they just coexist. At least the meter is only at 25%.
Recognizing one's flaws is part of loving oneself. For example, if Marui ever actually realized he had a food problem, he would be okay with being called fat.
In his case, Niou isn't the best at saying what he wants. He's better at demonstrating.
It's starting to get cold already even though it's just September, and that's the best. Too bad that they have a school field trip down to Okinawa, and Niou starts to melt underneath the heat all over again.
It just so happens that Yagyuu's room is the only one with a working fan, and of course that's how he ends up in there in the middle of the night. That's definitely the only reason.
It has nothing to do with the fact that they were all playing tennis on the beach earlier that day, with Yagyuu getting frustrated over the sand and ending up sweaty and mussed and with his glasses off and-
There's no telling if Yagyuu has ever kissed anyone before, because Niou is insistent enough when he crawls into bed with him that it doesn't matter. His lips are warm when Niou crushes his own against them, and he doesn't mind the slickness of sweat already making their bare chests stick to one another in the heat when he squirms up between Yagyuu's legs.
"Niou-kun-" It's almost a protest, and that makes panic well up in Niou's throat.
"Shut up," Niou says instead, wriggling down, hoping that's convincing, and Yagyuu just sort of groans, with his next move a grab for Niou's hair to haul him in closer, to kiss him harder.
"Nice neck," Niou snarks underneath his breath to Sanada the next morning as they all stumble out to the hotel buffet. Their vice-captain turns an interesting shade of red while popping his collar.
Yukimura smiles serenely in Niou's direction. "You, too, Niou."
Niou proudly puts his collar down. Yagyuu fidgets and shoves his glasses up.
50% reads the meter. That feels good.
Niou could get behind living in China. They give away a lot of beer to underaged kids.
Sanada snarls and drags Yukimura away, not allowing him the shame of illegal activities. Yagyuu sticks around, though, and so do Marui and Jackal. They start making out when they think no one is looking, and Niou grins, worming himself into Yagyuu's lap soon after Marui's giggles turn to little breathy noises underneath the blanket he and his best friend are sharing.
He's very welcome, he finds, when Yagyuu is drunk, and sloppy kisses are the best sort when they both taste sweet and buttery from a lot of good beer.
Finally, it's cold in Kanagawa.
That would be nice, except all Niou feels is numb. Gloves and his scarf as well as Yagyuu's don't help much when he can't even move his legs, when he can barely even hear Sanada's shouting with how his pulse pounds in his ears. Everyone else seems pretty good at moving, what with how Yagyuu and Yanagi dart to where Yukimura is collapsed on the ground, how Jackal runs off at full speed to grab the nearest train attendant, how Marui scrambles desperately for his phone, eyes widen and stricken with panic even when he tries to wrangle Kirihara into some semblance of calm.
It just feels a little otherworldly for it to be Yukimura, infallible, invincible Yukimura, good at words and sports and art and people and everything in between, to be the one that's broken on the ground.
"Are you okay, Niou-kun?"
Having that asked of him is fucking bizarre.
It's been a few hours in the hospital waiting room, and finally, everyone else has left except for himself and Yagyuu. Sanada, out of all of them, didn't want to leave, but there's the stress and responsibility of the club and school at hand, and shit, someone has to take care of it.
As it is, Niou is still slouched in a corner, coat still on and both scarves as well, and Yagyuu is just looking at him through his glasses, a frown deeply set into his face.
"Can you not worry about me," Niou irritably answers, "and worry about Yukimura instead? You do a good job of that usually."
He doesn't mean to say that. It stings both of them, and Yagyuu looks quickly away, saying nothing more.
The whole team is a little shaky when they get to visit Yukimura that weekend, who is still wan and drawn and white as the sheets he's wrapped up in. It's weird, but he seems mostly normal, laughing and talking like he normally does, no matter the IV in his arm that he obviously keeps trying not to scratch.
"I'll be back next week. Sanada, keep handling the club for me in the meantime, okay?"
Niou claps a hand against Sanada's back when he hesitates. "Yeah, Vice Captain. Get on that shit."
Something obviously unclenches within the guy, even though he brushes Niou's hand way. "I have it under control, Yukimura."
Yukimura's gaze silently flickers to Niou, and Niou likes to imagine there's a thank you written there.
Niou now likes to think that he just has a fine eye for people, period, the end.
It's with that in mind that he doesn't make a habit of saying much of anything when he notices weird shit about Yukimura's balance. Sometimes, he just idly grabs his captain by the scarf to steady him when something's not quite right, and that does the trick at first.
He and Yagyuu haven't been speaking lately, and Niou thinks that might be for the best. The tension in the air between them is the worst at practices, when Yukimura seats himself neatly on a bench, watching as Sanada hovers, and Yagyuu takes game after game from him because he's just not good enough anymore.
It's definitely for the best. If he's back down to 15%, that would be good, too, but he's not.
"Come on, buchou," Marui wheedles.
Yukimura is a snarly, pissy mess when he can't do things, and today, he's grumpily confined to a wheelchair. Sanada has him tucked into it with a blanket and his scarf perfectly wrapped about his neck, but he looks about as uncomfortable and angry as anyone ever has. "No. I already told you."
Marui's face falls. "But I'm hungry."
"Then eat."
"But…this restaurant is so good. It's always booked up! If you just let us, you know, manipulate them a little bit, it'll be so easy to get in!"
Yukimura bites at his lip, and Niou can already tell he's going to give in. "…Fine," he eventually says, defeated. "At least I can do this much for all of you."
"Don't worry, boss," Niou reassures him as Marui screeches and skips away to tell the rest of the regulars. Minus Sanada-thank god it's minus Sanada. "I'll be gentle in my persuasions."
At the restaurant, Niou looks the host dead in the eye when asked what it is Yukimura has that could kill him so quickly if he doesn't eat, and says: "What doesn't he have?"
They eat well that night, and Yukimura at least is laughing a bit by the end of it. Too bad it's short-lived.
It's not for the best that he and Yagyuu haven't spoken for three weeks and Niou thinks he is going to climb a wall and possibly eat an owl. Just one owl. Any owl. Possibly any bird.
He feeds a bunch of stray cats instead.
When Yukimura is finally admitted into the hospital on a permanent basis, Niou skips practice for a week. It's better to enjoy a bit of scenery, because he's sure that's what his captain would rather be doing. He's even fucking awesome enough to get Yukimura a live, rare orchid from Kyushu, and leaves it with the nurses to give him because it's outside of visiting hours when he drops by.
When he comes back, it's nothing like he remembers. Everyone is tense and silent and flinches at every word out of Sanada's mouth. Kirihara all but clings to the back of Yanagi's shirt at times, and Yagyuu ducks out at every opportunity for his student council meetings. Marui and Jackal seem to be the most solid of the bunch, though they, too, try to put as much distance between themselves and their vice captain as possible.
Niou endures a lot of yelling on his end, but it could be worse. Sanada at least has a reason for it.
"Are we all going by the hospital today?" Kirihara tentatively asks after practice, and after his sentence of picking up every ball is over. "When is Yukimura-buchou coming back, anyway?"
"Whenever he's well enough," Yanagi simply answers, fielding the kid for all of them. Niou shifts, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and Marui rocks awkwardly on his heels.
"I could pick him up a cake."
Sanada shrugs.
"Or some of that tea he likes…"
"Marui-kun," Yagyuu exasperatedly cuts in, "not everyone is as obsessed with food as you are."
"Well, they should be!"
"Let's smuggle his racket in to him," Niou idly suggests, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the ground.
The problem is that none of them really expect the mission to work (it does, with Niou's expertise), and so they aren't quite prepared for the way Yukimura's eyes prick with tears, and shit, Niou is 14,000% sure that Kirihara came from Yukimura's tennis uterus because the way he clings and cries into Yukimura's shoulder is just like a son that hasn't seen his mother in about a year.
Fuck this. Fuck him and his stupid fucking ideas, he shouldn't talk ever.
From: stupid glasses
[I'm sorry.]
It's two in the morning and Niou is glad he isn't asleep yet, because receiving that text makes him feel a little bit more like a person, even when he doesn't entirely understand.
To: stupid glasses
[ok]
There's nothing else to say.
For Yukimura's 14th birthday, Niou charms one of the nurses into letting them come in past visiting hours, and it costs him nothing but his time.
"Snagged the keys to the roof, too," he hums, twirling the ring around his finger. "Let's do this, guys."
Marui has baked a cake that is the size of him, more or less, and it's nearly gone by the end of the night, mostly courtesy of his own chowing down. Yukimura does a good job of faking eating, and Sanada is forever hovering, fretting with every passing moment that they linger and talk loudly and laugh. Niou chews slowly on the end of his fork, and watches the way Sanada curls his arm around Yukimura, the way Yukimura openly nuzzles into his neck, already mostly asleep.
Niou gives himself a pat on the back and the allowance to lay his head in Yagyuu's lap. He gets petted. That's good.
"We got this, boss," Niou says, and there are no doubts in his mind that they do. Marui is now eating the cake that he baked for Yukimura, and Kirihara is asleep in his lap like a damned two year old.
Yukimura smiles. Kind of. It doesn't really reach his eyes. Niou gets a damned fist bump out of him anyway, though he's pretty careful about it, considering the needle taped into the back of Yukimura's hand.
The urge to win resonates so fast through his body that Niou can't sit still.
His hands are desperate and grabby in the locker room before the Kantou. Yagyuu tries to utter a protest, that now isn't the place or the time, but Niou doesn't care. All he can think about is the day prior when they were all at the hospital, when Yukimura was shaky and pale and subdued like he should never be, aged ten years already and just-
They have to win. They have to.
He's pissed that they even lose one game (as per usual), let alone four, but it's still a solid win otherwise, and both of their doubles wins have set Rikkai up for inevitable success.
Niou finds himself staring, not at Kirihara's loss (he's a fucking kid, playing someone amazing, whatever), but Yanagi's, who all but crumples back into the stands afterwards, shaky and breathing heavy.
"Give this to him," Sanada snaps, throwing his jersey, and Jackal catches it with a nod before they take off to the hospital.
Not that it matters.
Niou will never quite erase the sounds of Yukimura's screaming from his thoughts.
The only thing that makes anything tolerable anymore is the way he and Yagyuu fuck.
Niou likes having his face shoved down into the nearest pillow, likes biting down into it to muffle every lewd noise forced from his throat, and thank god Yagyuu has been in enough of a bad mood lately to take it out on him, because they both need it that way.
He ends up staying overnight at Yagyuu's house quite a bit, which…is nice, weirdly enough. Yagyuu's little sister is quiet and nerdy and wears glasses just like her brother, and Niou is content to tell Yagyuu that he might look nice with pigtails just like she does.
"I've spoken to my father about it," Yagyuu begins out of the blue, and there doesn't even need to be an explanation for the nature of the conversation, because his dad is a doctor and doctors mean only one thing, "and even with the success of the operation, the chance for him to actually be able to play after so long…"
"Puri."
Yagyuu glowers at him. "What?"
"Don't tell him that."
Yagyuu blinks. Niou rolls over onto his stomach on Yagyuu's big bed, his feet kicking up behind him. "Yukimura's got a plan," he simply says. "He always does. And if he doesn't, we'll just win for him like we should've last time."
The night before the Nationals start, there's less fucking, more curling up into balls and cuddling even though it's too hot and Yagyuu is naturally warm and Niou kind of hates that it's 11 at night and he's already in bed but-
Shit, they've really got to win.
Sanada and Yukimura aren't speaking to each other than on warlord-to-subordinate terms, which is trippy. Niou gives them both a wide berth, and just wins whatever he's told to fucking win.
Yukimura still isn't really right. Niou feels uneasy just seeing him walk around, and isn't too fond of the tremors in his hands. He misses their captain with perfect, flawless posture especially compared to his own slouching, the asshole that was good at everything to the point it made Niou want to hate him, and the friend that was just as devious as him at times, especially when it came to picking on Sanada.
Sanada isn't happy either, though, judging by the way he watches Yukimura at every turn, and there's an argument that Niou ends up overhearing going into their first match that isn't the most encouraging.
"I want to play. Sitting around on a bench isn't what I came back for."
"Yukimura, you should save your strength. Wait until the finals-"
"I want to fucking play, Sanada!"
That's probably Yukimura's fist connecting with a locker, and the heave of his breath is unsteady, unhinged. Sanada says nothing more, and Niou barricades himself behind a chair, attempting to become a chameleon and blend with the wall when Yukimura storms out, ripping his jersey off of his shoulders before it can slip to the floor in his haste.
The problem is that the finals are the worst.
It's against Seigaku, infuriating, obnoxious Seigaku, and just the idea of their existence kind of sets Niou's teeth on edge. That's a new, weird feeling. It reminds him again of when he started playing tennis for Rikkai, and how he'd never been competitive or interested in his life, and now-
When he looks around to his teammates, he's damn sure they all feel the exact same way.
Sanada has to disappear after his win, and Niou is entirely sure he's sobbing out that tension in the bathroom. Yanagi is more startlingly, terrifyingly resolute than Niou has ever seen him, and Kirihara is a ball of energy, desperate for his win.
For the first time, though, Niou can see a hole in their lineup. He and Yagyuu are the undefeated doubles pair on the circuit. If Seigaku's best doubles team is made of gold, they're made of platinum.
The fact that he is in Singles 2 instead makes him feel an anxiety like he's never had before, especially when Kirihara and Yanagi playing doubles was less insurance, more a chance to let them recover and shine when they couldn't before.
Fuji Shuusuke is a different sort of whirlwind on the court. There's less strength behind his play, more delicacy and precision, but Niou knows he has to win. Yukimura is trusting him with this. The whole team is.
When they reach a certain point, when Fuji just smiles at him and tells him it's over, Niou just hopes the terror of knowing he's going to lose doesn't show too badly on his face. He remembers every flaw that Yukimura has ever pointed out to him in the way he plays, and he wishes Yagyuu was here on the court with him a dozen times over. He wishes he had taken the time to stop relying on coexisting and get better on his own, because he's just not good enough.
It all shows on his face, and he knows it does, and he hopes, after the fact, that Marui and Jackal can pick up the slack. He hopes that they're good enough to crumble the Golden Pair, but they aren't, and there's a moment when he realizes that Yukimura has planned all of this, just like Niou knew he would-so Sanada can have his win again, so Kirihara and Yanagi can have their win again, so that he himself can play.
"You're a fucking asshole," Niou takes the opportunity to tell him, and Yukimura doesn't even look at him.
Yukimura's loss, his own loss, doesn't feel right, never will feel right, and the jokes that Niou forces out after they're away from the stadium and the court and all the glaring faces just aren't good enough. The only saving grace is the Kirihara comment, where he says that they've raised a good son, but that doesn't even work as a joke because they all sort of start crying and that's pathetic.
They're all pretty pathetic at this point, but at least they're all pathetic together again.
Niou feels tired down into the marrow of his bones. For eight months, he wonders if he's really slept. He wonders if he's felt anything other than the pressure of winning, the weight of trying to make everyone hate their lives a little bit less, and shit, that sounds selfish. He's not the one that's been sitting in a hospital and rotting. He's not the one that nearly died. He's not the boyfriend of the guy that nearly died, either, and Sanada still looks unsteady with an icepack periodically taped to his knee.
This is not the kind of thing he wanted to do with his life, ever.
Eventually, they decide on dinner at Jackal's restaurant. It's sort of a tired affair, and Yukimura in particular doesn't eat a bite.
"Seiichi, the probability of you passing out if you don't eat is-"
Yukimura scowls. "Shut up, Yanagi."
"Buchou, we're going to force-feed you," Marui firmly says. "And by we, I mean Jackal."
Jackal's jaw drops. "What? No! Yukimura-buchou, I'm definitely not-"
"I'm very sorry about this, Yukimura," Sanada solemnly says, and wrestles a screeching Yukimura into some semblance of compliancy.
This seems a little bit more normal.
Afterwards, when they're all packing up to go their separate ways, after Yukimura has looked again at him, finally, with something like apology in his eyes, Yagyuu's hand is on his arm, and Niou arches a brow at him in question.
"If you aren't going out-"
"I'm not." It doesn't sound fun to run around Kanagawa tonight, or to take the train into Tokyo, or to do much of anything other than vegetate.
Yagyuu's fingers squeeze a little tighter. "Then come over?"
It's not 100%, but it's good. It's getting there. Most things are. Sanada is all but carrying Yukimura out even though they aren't speaking, Marui and Jackal are still eating, and Kirihara is babbling excitedly to Yanagi about what his team is going to be like next year.
Even though they've lost, he's still pretty sure they're part of something fucking outstanding.
Niou ducks his head, stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jersey. "Yeah."
At this rate, he's going to develop a normal sleep schedule.
Weird.