A/N: This is a complimentary piece to Sundays With Imayoshi.
Mondays are the worst, Mitobe thought as he turned over in bed, remembering that Sho would be gone for another – Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday – four days.
He didn't have to go into work until noon, so when he looked at his watch and saw it was only 8:15 am, he turned over and tried to go back to sleep. He hugged the edge of the bed. Most of the time it seems too small for us, but when he leaves it's just too big for me.
He tossed and turned for another thirty minutes, but eventually got up. There were dishes in the sink from last night: two cups, two plates, and four utensils. They were another reminder that he was alone, but the worst was the silence. Sho abhors silence…
Mitobe turned on the television as he prepared his lonely breakfast for one. The thick Osakan accent of the talk show host was reminiscent of Sho's, and if he busied himself, he could almost forget the apartment was empty of the other man's presence.
The laundry was done except for the clothes he'd took off and changed out of this morning, so he sought another distraction. He picked up his phone to re-read the text from last night, but stopped. I know what it says, it's not miraculously going to be something new. He only said five words…
He sat down at his computer and reviewed his notes for the afternoon work. His newest column idea probably wouldn't work. And then I'll have all of Osaka's horseracing fans angry, he thought, laughing, but I won't know unless I try.
He skipped lunch and headed over to the track early. The horses were still in their stalls and the men and women who took care of them were doing their daily business without complaint. He waved to Sho's father, Imayoshi-san, as he entered the stable and the man returned the gesture with a wave and smile. Tonight I have to remember to bring him that hat, he reminded himself, but they didn't exchange words now. He's so unlike his son; he's almost as quiet as me.
Mitobe started at the first stall, slipping through the gate that kept the horse inside. This one my favorite. Dandy Man's reaction to Mitobe's inspection was the same every week. The horse stood proudly, and enjoyed the attention of Mitobe's hands over its flanks. Mitobe picked up each hoof and inspected it just as Imayoshi-san taught him. The hooves were clean and free of burrs, cracks, or lumpy growths. He felt for the digital pulse leading down into the hoof and it was strong and even.
Mitobe ran his hands down the horse's neck, feeling for the rings of the trachea. Dandy's were evenly spaced. He found no injury or deformity. He stood in front of Dandy, just off to one side so that the horse could could see him clearly, and put a hand on the star shaped white splotch on the animal's forehead. It blinked, but was otherwise undisturbed. As he scratched the spot, Dandy snuffled and pushed his giant nose into Mitobe's chest.
A horrible high-pitched whinny came from the stall across the way and man and horse both rushed to the opening to see what was going on.
As his head cleared the gate, Mitobe saw The Italian Scallion in the stall across the barn, bucking wildly, kicking at the sidewalls. As Mitobe moved to investigate, a worker pushed him back and away as she carefully entered the stall. Ok, she's got this handled, I can go back to –
The Italian Scallion burst free of the stall and took off down the open corridor of the barn, heading toward the track. As the others rushed to catch up with the horse, Mitobe inspected the stall.
He ran his fingers along the gate that shuts the horse in at night. There are gouges in the metal. He's chewing at the stall.
The back wall had a lightning shaped crack. Kicking… and chewing on the bedding. None of that looks good.
He pulled his note pad out and looked for the entry on The Italian Scallion. Favored in his heat tomorrow at 8/1. On the surface it looks like a safe bet, but that horse is too smart for its own good. I'll have to get a look at him when they bring him back.
Dandy waited in the opening of his stall, observing him but not stepping out into the barn, despite the fact that Mitobe had forgotten to latch the gate closed. Now what are your odds, Dandy, he thought, consulting the notebook again. That's not so good, you're 6/4 and in the same race as that uncontrollable beast.
As he looked over the other horses in the same race, Mitobe checked each for the same things, running his hands over the animals and checking their disposition. They were all healthy – despite protest groups suggesting otherwise – because the conglomerate of people that owned this track, loved horses first and foremost, and only let responsible owners and jockeys run here. So, it came down to which horse had the right spirit.
The lessons he'd learned at the track were of course the starting place, but he also used his years of experience with world-class athletes to make his final decision.
He watched as the jockeys and their teams readied the horses for this afternoon's practice. He saw which horses had good attitudes, which were a bit too feisty, and made notes on it all.
One woman shook his hand, and clapped him on the shoulder. A man waved at him. There were smiles all around and much rushing, but even as many people acknowledged him, no one spoke to him. I wish they'd learn the difference between mute and deaf, he thought, but in that quiet bubble that always seemed to haunt him in the day after Sho returned to school each week, he didn't expect much else.
He found a place among the rest of the observers at the edge of the track and watched the horses run. There was very little chatter among the other reporters, and the competition for the best rags kept them from sharing their thoughts out loud. It made him feel like less of a freak.
The Italian Scallion was still twitchy this afternoon, the tenseness traveling down his entire frame, as he refused to be led. He'll be scratched by morning, which will improve the other horses' odds.
Dandy Man cantered by, held high and alert. Yes, indeed, Dandy Man, you may be my Dark Horse of the Week.
After they ran, Mitobe headed over to the chorale where the horses and jockeys were waiting to be interviewed and scrutinized by the reporters. Mitobe didn't care one bit what the men thought of their horses, he wanted a good look at them.
The Italian Scallion's eyes were lively and intelligent, almost angry and its concussive breathing seemed to echo that sentiment. He'd seen that look before in Aomine Daiki. Scallion was a natural born winner, just like the basketball player, but his untamed spirit was squandered here on the track where running in circles could only get him so far.
And at the same time, we're very much alike, he thought. We can run as fast as we can but we're only going in circles, you in the ring, me in the daily routine. When the race or the day ends, we are still back where we started.
He shook his head and moved away from The Italian Scallion's fitful movements and moved down the line. If Sho suspected I thought that way, for even a second, he'd cuff the back of my head and ask me if I'd rather be washing dishes in Tow-key-yo. He laughed, hearing the ridiculous pronunciation in his head as clear as if Sho were standing beside him.
Dandy, in many ways, lived up to his name. He walked a good walk, ran a better race, and looked good doing it all. His breath was light and already returning to normal after the exhausting eruption of speed he'd shown in that final corner.
Dandy welcomed Mitobe's inspection again, nuzzling him fondly as he observed the eyes. Is there a basketball player I know with eyes like his? And then it dawned on him, yes, yes indeed, he'd seen eyes like these before on Kagami Taiga when he'd tutored him in science to pass that midterm exam. He laughed quietly to himself and continued petting the horse. Bakagami and this horse are the same. They love what they do and do it well, even if they are both lacking in brains and sense.
That was the final piece of information he needed. He went back to the empty barn and pulled all the files on Dandy Man and photocopied them. It wouldn't take long to write up the article spotlighting the unfavored horse and he'd have it ready for the presses before the morning deadline.
Work was the only thing that made the day go quickly, and while he would not wish the next four days away – he'd been raised to treasure every moment of life – he would fill them to the brim so that when he woke on Saturday morning and rolled over to find Sho in his bed, he could proudly look his partner in the eye and know he was doing everything he could to secure their future.