The mornings and evenings are still cold in the middle of March, and even though they're planning on traveling south, Sanada takes no chances and packs long-sleeved shirts, sweaters, a coat heavy enough to keep back a chill at night. Yukimura, sitting cross-legged on Sanada's bed, watches with a fascination that Sanada wouldn't expect; it's only packing, nothing else. It almost makes Sanada uncomfortable, enough for him to wonder if he is right in packing the heavier clothes.
"Are you packed?" he asks Yukimura, instead of concentrating too hard on his own packing.
Yukimura only smiles at him, and slides off the bed, pacing the small room with barely concealed anticipation. He reaches the desk and picks up the smooth round stone resting on the surface, runs his fingers over it, and glances at Sanada with a brief, slightly curious expression, but says nothing. "I'll have everything packed in time," he says, and returns the rock to the desk, far from its original spot on the edge, where it rested as a paperweight. Sanada scowls at him and wants to say something when Yukimura laughs, but his mother's voice coming up the stairs stops his words.
He makes it a point to push the stone back into position before leaving the room to join his family and Yukimura for dinner.
Yukimura looks half-asleep and covers a yawn with his hand when he joins Sanada on the platform. "Morning," he mumbles through his yawn, and drops his suitcase on the ground to stretch. Sanada grunts and keeps his eyes firmly on the tunnel, facing the direction the train should arrive from, rather than risk staring at Yukimura.
"Akaya called me to say bye," Yukimura mentions, dropping his hands to his sides. He doesn't pick up his suitcase, but Sanada notices Yukimura shuffling, kicking it about until it's between their bodies, protected from sly hands. "He sounds lonely."
"He'll be fine."
"I told him to increase the time he spends practicing, so he won't have time to be lonely." Yukimura sighs, slightly, barely audible in the noise from the people around them, but Sanada feels the sigh, almost as if he were the one sighing. "I worry about him."
"He did fine when we all left middle school."
"Everyone was around still then; even if we weren't in school with him. Now-"
The train pulls into the station then, and the sounds envelope them like a blanket, smothering whatever it was Yukimura was saying. And by the time they are on the train, with suitcases overhead and settled into their seats, the chance to ask Yukimura to repeat what he had said is gone.
Sanada is not like Yanagi or Niou, who spend time studying people, nor like Yukimura with his innate sense of how the human mind works; he does not care for most people, does not watch them like others do, and does not take amusement in their actions. The team had been important to him, and those were the people he watched, but never to gain something as simple as amusement from them, from the antics they pulled still. It was always much more than that and he did not care to change that about his mindset.
But Yukimura is always an exception to the rule, and doubly so that morning: watching him makes Sanada's lips twitch, even though he doesn't allow the smile to full form on his face. Yukimura's head nods once, twice, thrice, and then he jerks up, looks around as if unwilling to admit he was on the verge of sleeping.
"Go to sleep," Sanada tells him finally, after minutes pass by.
Yukimura looks at him, the corner of his lips lifting in acknowledgement. "Sure you don't want company?" he asks, already slouching in his seat and leaning his head back. Sanada only shakes his head. He has a book packed, just for the trip, and it will only take a few minutes to stand and pull it from his suitcase.
"Wake me up when we get to Kobe," Yukimura murmurs, and closes his eyes. Sanada counts to ten and ten again and ten thrice, and Yukimura's breathing is as regular as it always is when he's asleep.
Sometimes it amazes him that Yukimura could fall asleep so easily, so quickly; he can no longer keep track of the number of times he's woken the other boy up in class, or during an assembly, or after a trip somewhere.
The book is waiting for him, something to keep his mind occupied during the hours until they reach Kobe. He doesn't like to have spaces of free time in which to think, with nothing to do, and being out of school has given him too much of that already. There are people walking in the aisles, so Sanada knows it is safe to get up, but he waits; there is no motivation in him to move from his spot and get the book. "Lazy ass," he mutters under his breath, but it does nothing to stir him from his seat.
He glances at Yukimura again and looks over him, to the window. There is nothing interesting outside, everything passing in too much of a blur for Sanada to admire the scenery; as it is, they are still in the city, not yet to the more open countryside. But even then, there will be little opportunity to study anything, to admire the beauty of the sky and land. The book still waits, and as Sanada reflects, is the best option for him to pass away the trip.
Yukimura shifts and his head falls, sliding across the seat until Sanada can feel a heavy weight on his shoulder, a weight that stills his hand on the seatbelt. Yukimura mumbles something under his breath and shifts again, settling his head a little more comfortably on Sanada's shoulder.
"Yukimura," Sanada murmurs, looking around; no one is paying any attention to them, everyone absorbed in sleeping or reading or off in their own little worlds. He looks back down at Yukimura, soundly asleep on his shoulder. "Yukimura," he mutters again, reaching over to shake his shoulder. Yukimura mumbles something again, too low for Sanada to catch, and shows no signs of waking up.
Sanada sighs and drops his hand from Yukimura's shoulder. He glances up at the racks overhead and shrugs, displacing Yukimura slightly, but not enough to jar him. That book will continue to wait, he realizes, and places his head back against the seat.
Sanada scrunches his face up and swats away the fly that landed on his nose, only for his hand to encounter another hand, one that isn't his own. Still half asleep and unwilling to open his eyes, he captures the hand in his, and traces it with his fingers, ready to yell at whoever it was who woke him up, provided it wasn't his mother.
But the hand is too callused to be his mother's, and as Sanada probes at a callus at the base of the fingers, he knows it's got to be one of his teammates. "Ten laps," he orders, and releases the hand with a sigh, wondering if he will fall asleep again; he doubts it, but still refuses to open his eyes. Something tells him it is very bright, if he were to open his eyes.
"It's hard to run ten laps on a train," Yukimura murmurs in his ear, and Sanada's eyes fly open at that, remembering everything. He was right, it is bright; the sun is streaming in through the windows, and he winces and rubs his eyes, wishing for his cap. "And you're no longer vice-captain, able to order everyone to run laps."
Sanada grunts at that and finally able to look around without squinting, glances at Yukimura, who seems to know automatically what he wants.
"We've got about ten minutes until we get there," Yukimura tells him. "I thought you'd want to be awake before we got there."
"Thank you." Sanada reaches up to rub his head again, still feeling disorientated and out of it, half asleep and wishing he could go back to sleep.
"Napping is so unlike you, Sanada," Yukimura says, next to him. "Were you too excited last night and couldn't sleep?" His voice is gently teasing, lacking the hard edge beneath it that hints at something much more dangerous than just teasing.
"I slept fine," he tells Yukimura, which is the truth; he makes sure to get exactly the amount of sleep he needs. But that doesn't mean it was restful, for Sanada has vague memories of dreams mostly forgotten.
"And then grabbing my hand and ordering laps." Yukimura leans closer, and Sanada can't avoid his gaze anymore. "I was starting to wonder when you'd let go of my hand."
"You shouldn't wake a person up by poking them," Sanada responds, leveling a glare at Yukimura, who has the decency to look ashamed for a moment. Only a moment, though; he laughs as soon as he recovers his composure.
"I couldn't resist." Yukimura grins at him and lightly pokes him in the arm. He settles back in his seat as the train pulls in and Sanada settles for glaring at him, rather than replying.
They had argued about a trip to the beach – Yukimura – versus a trip to an onsen – Sanada – until Yanagi suggested both, citing Kobe as the perfect place, if they were set on traveling out of the region. Which settled everything, even how long they would be gone, for neither of want to be gone for very long, even if it is a graduation trip, and orders were to enjoy themselves. There are no tennis rackets packed in bags, no kendo gear or papers to read over and study, no possible way for a head start on anything.
Sanada feels almost lost.
Not in the same way he felt lost in middle school, when Yukimura was sick, but lost all the same. It is odd for him to have a day of nothing to do, except enjoy himself. He feels disorientated as they make their way into the resort they are staying at for the next few days – Sanada mentally blames that on his nap on the train, another thing he was unused to. Not even Yukimura feels that real, at the moment. The only thing that feels slightly comforting is the suitcase in his hand, its weight heavy and certain, something to ground him.
The room they have is small, only large enough for the futons placed side by side and a wardrobe. But there is a private pool outside their room, the important part of the room, and Yukimura crosses to the sliding door in the back of the room after dropping his suitcase and opens it. Sanada can see the steam rising from the water. There are yukatas and towels folded on the futons already, and through a door next to the wardrobe, Sanada is sure there are showers to rinse off all the grime of the day before climbing into the springs.
In the back of his mind, he knows they should unpack, have lunch, or at least rest for a bit before entering the hot springs, but Sanada doesn't want to. The water is steaming, beckoning to him invitingly, and Sanada knows he's not alone when Yukimura crosses back to the futons, picks up one of the towels and yukatas and strips off his shirt. He's out of the door before Sanada can say anything, looking around to offer him a grin. "Hurry up."
He places the suitcase down in the corner of the room, picking up Yukimura's and placing it next to his, rather than leaving it in the middle of the room, and grabs the other towel and yukata. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice is admonishing him, a combination of his mother and grandfather and Yanagi, mentioning wrinkles and laziness.
He ignores it.
"When does Renji leave?" Yukimura asks, as he settles down on one of the futons, suitcase in front of him. "Not before we get back, right?"
"The day after," Sanada tells him, wrestling with his suitcase. It feels heavier than it had earlier, and he wishes he hadn't packed quite as much as he did, nor as many long-sleeved shirts, especially since it feels like he has no need of them. Outside, the day is starting to darken in the east, and even after spending more time than he would have necessarily approved of in the hot springs, Sanada wants to climb back in. Facing the outside world is not something he is looking forward to that night. But a rumble from his stomach reminds him why they had climbed out in the first place.
Instead, he settles down next to Yukimura, who is whistling something that Sanada can't identify, and opens his suitcase. The smooth grey surface of the stone he had packed, almost without thinking, is the first thing he notices.
The whistling next to him ends, cut off as Yukimura glances at the suitcase, and Sanada stiffens, the tension that had been soothed away by the springs instantly returning.
"You brought a stone?" Yukimura asks, looking at Sanada. Sanada can almost feel Yukimura's gaze, which is how he knows when Yukimura looks away; for his part, Sanada refuses to look anywhere except directly at the stone.
"It helps keep everything from shifting about," he mutters. A partial truth, but he's not going to admit the real reason why. It was easier to explain the presence of the stone before, when the entire team went on trips, or with Yanagi, who knows why and doesn't question it. He doesn't want to tell Yukimura, of all people, the real reason why.
"It must weigh your suitcase down," Yukimura mentions, laughing a little and as Sanada continues to stare at the stone, still unsure about looking away, Yukimura's hand moves into his line of vision, pale fingers tapping the surface of the stone. "Is it the same one?"
Sanada grabs it before Yukimura can pick it up and drops it to the side. "That is unimportant. We should unpack and get to dinner." He finally looks at Yukimura, who is staring at him with something in his eyes that Sanada is unused to seeing directed toward him. It's the same seriousness that Yukimura always has in his eyes when faced with a good, serious tennis game. There's something behind that look that Sanada refuses to linger on.
It all disappears quickly, when Yukimura blinks, and grins at him. "I'm starving," he says, turning to his suitcase. "How do you feel about teppanyaki? According to Marui, there's a place not too far from here that's supposedly really good."
"I'm surprised he remembers any place that isn't a pastry shop," Sanada mutters, still uncomfortable, but taking a cue from Yukimura. He feels like he is on firmer ground when talking about the team.
"Oh he doesn't," Yukimura assures him, shoving things back in his suitcase haphazardly; Sanada can't watch, because he is tempted to pull everything out and fold it. For a brief moment, he wishes Yanagi was along on the trip, because the tactician would do exactly that. "He called his aunt when I demanded something more than places with really good desserts. I have a list of places to try near the beach, too. And if we want a really sinful strawberry cake, there's a pastry shop a few streets over that sent Bunta into fits of rapture."
Sanada only grunts and rolls his eyes, carefully extracting clothes, to not make a complete disaster of his suitcase. He knows he should take time to unpack, the wardrobe isn't too far from where he is sitting and he doesn't have so much in his suitcase that it will take any time at all, but it seems pointless, at such a late time.
He shoves the suitcase away, clothes in hand and focuses changing, resolutely avoiding looking at Yukimura as he strips.
The stone is still resting by the side of the futon; Sanada can feel it mocking him.
"Sanada." Yukimura moves closer, peering at him through the steam from the water, and Sanada cracks open an eye to look at his friend. He suspects he knows what is coming, and while part of him is screaming to run and hide and avoid the question, as cowardly as that would be, the other part is simply too sated to want to move. He doesn't respond to Yukimura, partially out of the desire to not hear the question; but Yukimura will ask anyway, no matter what.
"Why do you have the stone?"
It's the question he knew was coming and the one he wished hadn't. Sanada straightened up, opening his eyes to study Yukimura again. The steam left Yukimura pink, beads of moisture at his temple and in the hollow of his collarbone and Sanada focuses on the column of his throat, rather than looking directly at his friend.
"I don't want to discuss it, Yukimura." With a few words, Sanada changed the atmosphere of the evening; he could feel the stiffness descending on them – in the way Yukimura's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, in the way he brought his own shoulders up.
"Is it the same one?" Yukimura demands, driving forward as Sanada knew he would; Yukimura didn't know when to let go. "Why have you kept something as simple as a stone for-"
"Yukimura." Sanada cut in the question, frowning at the other boy. "I do not wish to discuss it."
"But if it is still the same, it must-"
"Shut up about it," Sanada growls, water splashing around him as he pushes past Yukimura and climbs out of the hot springs. He's interrupted Yukimura before, that is nothing new, but he has never told him to shut up. That's always been reserved for the rest of the team, even Yanagi. But never Yukimura.
He wants to glance behind him, see if he is leaving behind a shocked Yukimura, but his pride stops him from turning.
Sanada grabs his yukata and slips it on, unconcerned about the damp patches already forming and the material clinging to his damp skin as he walks back into the room.
Yukimura, he's glad to note, doesn't follow; it's another hour before he returns to the room, and Sanada can easily pretend he's sleeping. He doesn't need to see Yukimura to know where he is, hyperaware of the other boy in the room; his footsteps seem to echo in the room and send tremors through Sanada's body, even though Yukimura is moving as quietly as possible.
He doesn't know what to make of it when Yukimura stops right next to his futon; it could only mean he is waiting for a moment before climbing into bed, but that hope – fear? – is squashed as quickly as Sanada thinks it. Yukimura leans over and Sanada wonders for a second if he's going to be found out. He feels Yukimura's hand on his head, brushing away his hair, and then lips, brushing the corner of his own.
Sanada thinks his heart is going to stop.
The sun is rising earlier each day, and that makes it easier for Sanada to wake up, even if he feels like he is dragging his body from the bed. Their room doesn't face directly east, but southeast, which still lets the sun stream into their room when Sanada pushes open the door. The sun helps him feel better, even minutes after waking up, and he's outside soon after, sinking into the warm water.
He doesn't spend long in the water, knowing Yukimura wants to be up early for a trip to the beach; but long enough that he can feel the tension draining from his shoulders and the meditative state he attempts to attain during kendo settling over him. It's hard to find anything to be angry or upset about, when the sun is shining down on him and the waters are warming his body. Even Yukimura's questions of the night before are far from his mind.
He slips in the shower room to wash his hair quickly before returning to the room, drying his hair as he looks around. The room is exactly the same as he left it, but somehow feels different. And Yukimura is still a lump curled under half a dozen blankets. Sanada doesn't remember there being that many blankets in the room the night before and wonders where he got them from.
The rock is still resting by his futon, undisturbed in the corner; it hasn't been moved since he placed it there the day before, but it feels different, just as different as the room. Sanada can't pinpoint why, but something is bothering him. He picks up the stone, intending to pack it away before waking Yukimura up, and flips it over, rubbing his fingers over the words he had spent hours etching into the stone years ago. The black permanent marker that the words had originally been written in has long since faded.
Behind him, Yukimura shifts on the bed, and Sanada hastily shoves the stone into his suitcase.
"Wake up," Sanada says, voice breaking the silence. Yukimura groans from beneath his blankets, and pulls them tighter around his shoulders.
"Don't wanna," he mutters, "sleepy."
"The beach is calling your name," Sanada tells him. "You're the one who wanted to spend the day there."
"Yeah, yeah." Yukimura's voice is lightly clearer, but still muffled by the blankets. Finally, he pushes them off and sits up. "What time is it?"
"Seven."
Yukimura groans and flops back down on the futon. "Wake me up when it's ten."
Sanada chuckles as Yukimura pulls the blankets over his head again and sits down on his own futon, studying the lump that is Yukimura beneath all of his blankets. He knows that once the other boy is actually aware of things, he'll want to be up and would regret it if Sanada let him sleep all morning – Sanada remembers all too well the list of things he wanted to do at the beach, it being a part of the argument about where to go. And a part of him wants to get back at Yukimura, even slightly, for everything else.
So he reaches out and grabs the blankets, tugging hard.
Yukimura, unfortunately, doesn't move much, beyond being displaced by the blankets and curling up smaller against the chill. Sanada glares at him, mad at the fact that his plan to wake Yukimura up didn't go as he thought it would. But it's too hard to stay too frustrated, and Sanada glances at the sleeping boy, trying to find a way to wake him up.
Yukimura sighs, lips opening and the soft sound escaping him, and Sanada's gaze is drawn to his face, to his lips; he can't look anywhere else it seems. And he remembers all too well the feeling of those lips brushing against his the night before.
Anyone else would call it a dream, a figment of their imagination or something thought up while half-asleep, but Sanada knows his mind and knows what happened: Yukimura had kissed him, albeit briefly, but a kiss nonetheless. Sanada cautiously touches his fingers to his lips, wondering why.
Yukimura shifts again, and Sanada drops his fingers, reaching over to shake Yukimura's shoulder, a bit rougher than he realized. "Wake up, lazy," he demands. "We've got things to do."
He looks away, and resolutely keeps staring at the bushes just visible outside as Yukimura blinks and stretches and yawns. He doesn't look, won't admit to the quick glance he does allow himself, because he doesn't want to admit that, when he meets Yukimura's gaze, studying him with something like a question in his eyes, he doesn't know the question or the answer.
Yukimura passes the tray of takoyaki to him, and Sanada stares at the last dumpling, wondering if he can eat it. It's early afternoon, and already Yukimura has stuffed him with more food than Sanada is used to in an entire day. He almost wonders if Marui has possessed Yukimura for the day, especially when Yukimura finishes off the dumpling he was eating, and grins up at him. "If you're not going to eat that, I will," he says, and Sanada silently offers the tray to him. It's easy to act normal around Yukimura, when Yukimura is normal; there are no looks, Sanada sees nothing to make the day awkward. It's as if the kiss didn't exist, as if the looks Yukimura keeps giving him are part of his imagination.
Yukimura accepts the tray happily, finishing it off in a few bites. "I think I'm stuffed," he announces, sighing and patting his stomach. "I'd end up fat if we actually did live here.
"Play a few games of tennis when we get back," Sanada tells him. "Or else you're going to end up fat."
Yukimura scowls at him, reaching out to punch his shoulder. "I'm not going to get fat just because I stuffed my face full of food one day."
"If you keep this up, you will."
"One day doesn't mean my eating habits are going to permanently change!"
"It only needs to happen once." Sanada reaches up to pull down his cap, worn for the day out in the sun, hiding his smirk behind his actions. "You'll discover you like it and want to continue eating and eventually get fat."
Yukimura stops, arms akimbo and glaring at him, and the years of practice at keeping a straight face are the only things keeping Sanada from laughing aloud. "Fine, we're playing a five set game when we get back."
"Sure you'll be able to keep up?" Sanada asks. "I can already see the double chin starting to form."
Yukimura claps a hand around his chin and Sanada does finally laugh, quickly turning it into a cough as Yukimura narrows his eyes. "I am going to make you regret that, Sanada Genichirou. Just you watch."
"You're a lot of bark, but I doubt your bite."
Yukimura throws himself forward, and Sanada is glad they are walking on the sand, because it at least softens his land when he falls.
"Yes," he says, only pretending to wheeze, "getting fat."
Yukimura snatches his hat, pulling it clean off his head and grabs a fist full of the sand, rubbing it into Sanada's hair. He's going to have to scrub his hair, and probably his entire body later, and it makes Sanada glad that they're staying at an onsen, where he'll have a chance to do so, and follow it with a long soak in the hot springs.
"I'm not fat," Yukimura says. "Say it, or you're not getting your cap back."
"I'm not fat," Sanada says, perfectly serious.
Yukimura stares at him for a second and Sanada can tell he's torn between hitting him and laughing. Finally, laughter wins out, and he dissolves into laughter, collapsing against Sanada's chest.
"You're still not getting your cap back," Yukimura tells him, once he rolls off of Sanada, flopping into the sand.
"Yeah I will." Sanada reaches for it as he speaks, nearly grabbing it, until Yukimura pulls back and jumps up.
"Will not," Yukimura insists, and dances just out of his reach, forcing Sanada to get up and chase after him. The few scattered people around look at them oddly, two teenage boys chasing running around like idiots, but Sanada doesn't even notice. He's too focused on Yukimura to pay attention.
Sanada doesn't give Yukimura a warning as he leaps and tackles the other boy to the ground, easily wrestling the hat out of Yukimura's hand. Yukimura glares as he places the hat back on his head, smirk noticeable in the corner of his lips.
"You're the heavy one," Yukimura mutters, pushing at his shoulder. "I've still got a while to go before I catch up to you."
"But I'm taller."
"Spoilsport." For a moment, Yukimura looks like he wants to stick his tongue out at him, and Sanada feels more like a kid than he has in a long time. He only laughs at Yukimura and drops his forehead to the other's, not wanting to get up. Despite his protests, Yukimura doesn't seem to mind his weight.
"Hey Sanada?" Yukimura begins, after a minute of silence, and in his voice, Sanada can hear the hesitation; it makes him stiffen, but doesn't make him move away, even though he knows what is going to follow, just like he knew last night, just like he has feared since Yukimura picked up the damn stone in his room the other night.
Just like what he's feared – hoped? - since he began etching the words in the stone.
"Why did you keep the stone so long?"
Sanada looks down at Yukimura, who seems genuinely curious. And something else. Sanada knows his moods, can read his eyes as only a few can – it comes from years of friendship, of a near loss, of being around during a time of trial and of coming out of those trials. He might not be the best at reading people, but he knows Yukimura well enough, and now he isn't quite sure what he sees in Yukimura's eyes.
"Because." Sanada stops, unsure of what to say. Everything he can say about it seems too silly, even if it's all the truth. Because it was important to me. Because it meant something. Because it was a symbol. He stares down at Yukimura, at a loss for words. It's not the first time, and Sanada doubts it will be the last, but this time feels even more awkward than it ever has before.
Sanada doesn't like it.
He opens his mouth to continue and abruptly closes it, because he can think of nothing else, and none of it matters anyway, because Yukimura wraps his arms around Sanada's neck and pulls him down. It's not a simple brushing of the corner of his lips this time, but an actual kiss: Sanada can feel Yukimura's lips against his, brushing lightly at first, almost hesitant, and then firmer, and Sanada forgets about thinking and everything else, except Yukimura and the feeling of his lips.
Sanada's not sure how much time passes by, until a horn honking in the distance breaks through his mind; he jerks back, breaks the kiss, and drops his head to Yukimura's chest, breathing heavily.
"Sanada," Yukimura begins, and for the first time in years, Sanada can hear something akin to doubt in his voice, and Sanada raises his head to look down at the boy beneath him.
"I-" Sanada can hear his voice cracking, and winces. Clearing his throat, he tries again, dropping his gaze down to Yukimura's chest, rather than studying his face. "I wasn't asleep last night."
Yukimura flushes, and shifts, and Sanada can feel the length of Yukimura's body against his own, and it hits Sanada then that they are in public and he is sprawled on top of another boy.
"We should go," Yukimura whispers, but doesn't move his hands from where they are resting on Sanada's back, and Sanada leans down to kiss him again. It isn't until the voices of people passing too close by for comfort makes him break the kiss. Yukimura's lips twist in something like a smile and he finally drops his arms back to the sand.
"Was there anything else you wanted to do at the beach?" Sanada asks, pushing himself up and reaching down to help Yukimura up.
"Nah, I think we're good." Yukimura glances back at the beach, the umbrellas and towels dotting the coastline and further out, boats, their sail stark white against the cloudless early spring sky. He looks back to Sanada and grins. Sanada can't help but think Yukimura has been smiling more, and sincerely, since they left Kanagawa.
Yukimura joins Sanada in the springs later than he expects. He had left Yukimura preparing to shower and had spent the past half-hour wondering where he was.
The water ripples slightly as Yukimura slides in, and slips over to settle right next to Sanada. Sanada avoids looking at him, mostly because after that earlier kiss he doesn't know what to do; this all new to him, even if it's Yukimura, who is as much a part of his life as anything else, not new or unusual.
"I wasn't sleeping this morning."
The words come from nowhere, hold no meaning and Sanada looks at Yukimura finally, the question in his eyes. Yukimura just studies him, oddly serious. "When you left, I woke up. And looked at the stone, since you were being so elusive about it."
Sanada can feel the blood heating his cheeks and mentally thanks the rising steam; it's easy to hide a flush, citing the heat as a cause if Yukimura were to even question it. Mentally, he's cursing the stone: that damn rock that meant too much for him to get rid of, the habit of bringing it along with him, even the reason why he ended up with it.
"I can explain," Sanada says, and stops, because he can't and it all feels like a repeat of earlier, when Yukimura had confronted him about it. For once, he wishes Yukimura wasn't as persistent or determined as he was – it's making everything awkward for Sanada.
"No you can't," Yukimura tells him, and laughs, and there's nothing in his voice that Sanada can't identify easily, and when he looks at Yukimura again, his eyes are the same: no hidden questions Sanada doesn't want to notice, no curiosity or puzzlement or emotions Sanada can't put his finger on. Just Yukimura. And Yukimura wraps his arms around Sanada and pulls him closer, and for the second time in the day, Sanada forgets to think.
The stone is out of his suitcase, resting by his futon; Sanada doesn't notice it at first, too wrapped up in Yukimura, and it isn't until Yukimura falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady, that Sanada has a chance to look around and notices the stone.
It explains why Yukimura took so long earlier, and Sanada reaches for it. His fingers brush over the carved words on the bottom, and he flips it over, eyes widening. Beneath the characters he'd spent hours tracing into the stone with a little knife - 'Nationals will be ours', the promise made so long ago to Yukimura – are new words - 'The world will be ours.'
It makes him smile; he'll have to carve those words into the stone, much like he had carved the words once before, after Yukimura wrote them, as a joke, on the smooth surface of the stone they found on the hospital roof.
He carefully sets the stone down and rolls over, curling around Yukimura's body. Yukimura mumbles something as the futon shifts slightly, and Sanada can catch the words "too early" this time. It makes him roll his eyes and grin.
"Shut up," Yukimura snaps, although playfully, as they wait on the platform for the train. He hugs the loose sweater a little closer to his body.
"I'm not saying anything," Sanada insists, and glances away, pretending to look for the train so Yukimura can't see his smirk.
"You're thinking it," Yukimura huffs.
"I am simply pleased I thought to bring extra warm clothes."
Yukimura mutters something he can't hear, that makes Sanada chuckle a little. It is lost in the sound of the approaching train and the people milling about on the platform, and Sanada doesn't have a chance to really say anything to Yukimura again until they are racing back to Tokyo.
"Do you think anyone's going to realize it?" Yukimura asks, sliding down in his seat and trying to get comfortable. Sanada can tell he's struggling to keep his eyes open already.
"Renji will, if no one else does." Sanada stops, and thinks for a second; he wants to ask if it will matter, if it is important, but Yukimura reaches over, laces his fingers with Sanada's and rests his head on Sanada's shoulder.
"I hope you weren't really planning on reading that book," Yukimura mentions, and closes his eyes. "You make a good pillow."
Sanada laughs softly and squeezes Yukimura's hand. It's not even a debate this time, if he should get the book or let it sit in his suitcase, weighed down by the stone.