Chapter 2
Fair warning, I have been listening to the Hamilton playlist for three days straight. So much Hamilton ahead.
LeNoRi, over and out!
"Kaa-san! I'm going to the park!" I called, soccer ball tucked under arm.
"Okay, be back by dinner! Take a hat!"
I pulled on my shoes and took off in a gentle jog, adjusting my cap.
That had confused me slightly, Namimori tendency to let their children roam without much guidance. I had seen children as young as five run past me, alone and without an adult following close behind.
I remember almost never leaving my house, unless going to school or shopping with my mum, in my past life. So, by habit, when I see a group of young children walk past, I watch them for a little while in case they do something stupid. Call me a creep, call me cautious.
I reached the park and let out a breath, looking around before deciding to go over to the grassy areas and kick the ball around. I walked to the middle of the oval and dropped my ball, catching it in the crook of my foot before tossing it up and catching it with the other foot.
I repeated this a few times before getting the ball up higher and bumping it with my chest, following with my head. I shifted around, trying to keep under the ball and balance it, before letting it roll down my front and pinning it between my thighs. Using my left foot, I moved the ball down my leg before popping it with the heel of my right, launching it up and over my head.
I looped through a mess of practiced movements, doing things that my old body could never do. Going through the movements without thinking of what I was doing, my only goal to keep the ball moving and in the air.
I let out a whoosh of air as I lost the ball, it flying off the side of my heel. I turned and ran after it, catching up quickly and rolling the black and white ball up my leg in one smooth movement. Bouncing it off my knees, I leaned forwards and pinched it between my shoulder blades.
"Wow, that's so cool!"
I jumped and lost the ball, making me groan as I rolled down the slight decline of the oval into a trench in the ground.
I turned to the distraction, an eyebrow raised, before stalling.
Ah fuck.
"Nah, that's pretty basic stuff. I'm Yamaguchi Daiki, who're you?"
The black haired, brown eyed child grinned up at me.
"I'm Yamamoto Takeshi! Do you wanna play baseball with me?"
I repeat. Ah FUCK!
"Sure, why not."
WHY!?
"Cool! C'mon then!" Yamamoto cheered, pretty much butchering the English language.
I parted from him to grab my ball before following after to join him in front of a small pile of baseball equipment.
"Do you have anyone else playing with you?" I asked as I dropped my ball to pick up the smaller one.
"Ah, nah, they're all busy right now." He shrugged, grabbing the bat and giving it a few test swings.
"Hm, I'll bowl first then." I hummed, jogging a few meters away.
"This good?" I called, raising my hand in a wave.
Takeshi stood in position, his trademark grin on his face, and gave me a nod.
"Ready when you are!" He called back in cringe English.
Stop. Pls.
I remember Yamamoto being a great base-baller, but I didn't know what level he was at yet.
I frowned down at the ball in my hand, spinning it slightly. Let's start slow?
"Ready!" I called, throwing the ball with more of an arc than I would normally.
I blinked as Yamamoto's eyes hardened for a moment before, jumping to the side sharply as the ball whizzed past me.
"Damn…You're good at this." I breathed as I saw the ball eventually reach a stop at the edge of the park.
"Hehe, sorry, I can't really hold back when it comes to baseball!"
I waved off the apology and jogged after the ball, grabbing it off the ground and rubbing the dew off on my shift. Reaching my original position, I prepared to bowl again, before Yamamoto raised his hand, student style.
"Ya?" I asked, moving back to a normal stand.
"Could you pitch a bit faster? I really like it hard and fast!"
COUGH! COUGH! AHEM!
"Okay, I'll bowl a bit harder." I agreed, thanking every lord that this body seemed incapable of blushing.
"Alright!"
Where did the R go, mate?
I was strong enough, having needing to pick up at least 100kg's worth of flour and other ingredients every morning. I was solid, tight chords of muscle making up my arms and legs. This body was easier to maintain, a faster metabolism and high testosterone levels allowed me to remain thin and form muscle easier than my last. Small blessings.
"Hey, Yamamoto-san! Toss me the glove!" I said, pointing to the mitt at his feet.
"Kay!"
I caught the brown material, noticing how stiff it felt, relatively new then. I looked at the bat in his hands, shiny and barely any scruff marks. The ball in my hand was in a similar condition, a polished sheen reflecting the midday sun. He hadn't been playing for long.
"Ready!"
I got into position and recalled my arm back, trusting that he's hit it. He's Yamamoto Takeshi, he'll do it.
I threw the ball, using all the muscles in my arm to launch it from my palm. I watched in satisfaction as it shot towards the batter in front of me, before widening my eyes slightly.
His face, he wasn't ready for that fast.
"C'mon batter! Hit the ball!" I yelled, pulling the mitt onto my hand.
Yamamoto snapped out of his stupor at the last second, swing his bat sharply. I stood still as the ball rolled to my feet, glancing at his with confusion. He…didn't hit it properly?
"Again!"
I picked up the ball and raised an eyebrow, oh dear.
"Pitch it again!" He yelled, falling into position.
Ah, competitive is he?
I rolled my arm and sighed, here we go. I'm going to be throwing a lot aren't I?
"Ready!"
I threw the ball again, letting it speed towards the rain guardian. I watched as he swung, hitting the ball before stalling. The bat unbalanced in his grip, falling back slightly, sending the ball rearing off into what would have been the out area.
"Again, please Yamaguchi-san!"
I groaned to myself but trotted after the now still ball, watching Yamamoto out of the corner of my eye as he adjusted his grip on his bat, frowning at hit.
He only just started, I shouldn't expect too much of him. He has plenty of time to grow and progress. Come to think of it…
"Yamamoto-san, how old are you?" I asked, tossing the ball in my hand as he shifted his feet.
"Me? Oh, I'm 8, I'll be 9 in April, the 24th, though!"
"Only a month left then, are you excited?" I asked, remembering it was March.
I blinked when no comment came, I looked to him and found him tilting his head and watching me with a confused expression.
"What?"
"Nothing, it's just that sounded like something an adult would say…" He muttered, shrugging.
Oh dear, I forgot how perceptive Yamamoto Takeshi was.
"How old are you, Yamaguchi-san!?" He suddenly chirped, straightening.
"10, since January 21st. Ready?"
He nodded, falling into position, and watching the ball with rapt attention.
I prepared to throw again, nodding to him as warning before ridding myself of the ball with the usual speed and strength.
Yamamoto watched the ball speed at him before swinging the thick wooden bat in his hands, a flash of pride passing through his eyes as the pieces of equipment connected with a satisfying 'whack!'
My eyes widened as I moved quickly, watching the ball arc up as I moved beneath it. I sighed as it landed in my mitt solidly, sending Yamamoto a small smile.
"You hit it! 'Bout time!"
He grinned at me, bat leaning on his shoulder as he straightened his cap. Yamamoto held his hand out as he moved towards me, offering me the bat and taking the ball.
"My turn to pitch! Get ready, I'll pay you back for those balls!"
I nodded, taking the threat very literally, not doubting him for a second. I jogged to where my ball was, watching him as he weighed the ball in his hands.
"Ready when you are!" I called, swinging the bat before adjusting my grip.
"Ready!"
Why, Yamamoto? Why?
I nodded and swung the bat back, ready for the ba- Nope! Not ready for that!
"Son of a fuck! That could take someone's head off!" I hissed quietly in English, too quiet of Yamamoto to hear from where he was.
"Told you!" He laughed like the little devil he was as he ran after the ball.
I stared dumbly at the bat in my hands, before narrowing my eyes. Yamamoto Takeshi or not, I'm not going to be beaten by a nine year old.
"Ready!" He called, copying my warning.
I fell into position, remembering when I used to play squash against my first dad.
'Wall-watcher! Eyes on the ball!'
Eye on the ball, got it.
I watched as he reared back and threw the ball like a true base-baller, the blob of white coming at me with disconcerting speed.
I swung as it neared, a burst of satisfaction shooting through me as they connected. The ball bounced off the bat, falling an arms-length away and rolling half way to Yamamoto.
"Damn, I thought I got it." I mumbled,
"Another one?" The rain guardian-to-be asked, a grin of his face as he jogged back.
"Of course." I affirmed, falling back into position.
I was going to hit that thing, if it was the last thing I bloody do.
I tensed as he threw the ball at me, his face flashing with his game face. My eyes followed the ball as it connected with the bat in my hand, flying off over Yamamoto's head.
"Yes!" I cheered, a grin splitting my face as I watched it bounce along the ground.
"Aw man!"
I shrugged and jogged up to the shorter boy, placing my hand on his head and messed up his hair.
"Don't worry, you'll be able to curb stomp me in no time, I assure you. You've got talent, I just got lucky."
He grinned up at me, making me blink.
Oh, so that's what his real smile looks like. I gave a slightly smile, a small wisp of pride swirling to life as he let out a laugh when I messed his hair up further.
I yawned as I leaned over a book on my desk, pages of drafts, notes, graphs and self-imposed assessments littering the floor around me. I sat back in my wheelie chair with a sigh, took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes.
"Ugh, logarithms, still hate 'em." I muttered, as I looked at the booklet of year eleven maths.
Leaning forwards again, I put my glasses back on and went back to the equations.
Graph the following logarithmic equations:
"C'mon, if Alexander Hamilton, an orphan, bastard and prostitute's son can do it, so can I."
I grabbed my calculator out and began plugging in the numbers with my left hand, writing down my working on a blank piece of paper with my right.
Ah, gotta love ambidextrous multitasking.
I frowned down at the question as I tried to imagine the graph, before nodding and graphing the question with my frog ruler.
For some reason, my mother had come to believe that I loved frogs. I had no idea why.
"Daiki-kun! You have visitors!" Speak of the devil.
I blinked and leaned back, looking through my open door in confusion. Visitors?
"Who?!" I called back, straining to look down the hall without getting out of my chair.
"Yamamoto-kun and his father! I'm sending them up!"
Wait, what?
"Daiki-kun!" Yamamoto cheered as he ran in, trampling over my papers with socked feet.
'When did I become Daiki-kun?' I thought, raising an eyebrow as he vaulted into my lap and threw his arms around my neck like the spider monkey he was.
I looked down at the grinning batsmen, wondering why the hell he was here. I'd known him for a month or less, and he was clingy. He liked to touch, he would poke, grab and hug almost every chance he could get, going as far as just flopping on me if I ignored him long enough.
In that time though, he had never come to my house. The bakery, sure, but never the house.
"Yes, that is my name." I replied as I reached around him to label the graph, intent on getting every point I could from the sheet.
"So, this is the Great Yamaguchi Daiki-san that Takashi-kun won't stop talking about."
I looked up and stared at the man in the doorway, recognising him from vague memories.
"Good morning, Yamamoto-san. I would get up to greet you properly, but it seems I have gained some weight." I said, bowing my head slightly as greeting.
"No problem, it's nice to finally meet you, Takeshi's told me all about you." He smiled as he approached us, pausing as he stepped on one of my sheets.
"All good things, I hope." I replied, looking down at the boy who was looking at my booklet in disgust.
"All good things, don't worry. Tell me, Yamaguchi-san-"
"Please, call me Daiki, Yamamoto-kun already does." I insisted, giving the said boy a pinch when he tried to touch my glasses.
"Daiki-san, tell me, how long have you been doing algebra?" He asked, showing me one of my old work sheets.
"Daiki-kun's always studying, he finished algebra ages ago! He's doing this now, logs!" Yamamoto chirped, displaying my finished graphs.
"Is that so?"
The way he looked at me set alarm bells ringing in my head, he knew I was abnormal, he knew I was unnatural, he-
As soon as the expression came, it left, leaving him to turn to his son.
"You should take after Daiki-san here, study more instead of mucking around in the park all day."
"But studying is boooriiiiing!" Yamamoto whine, leaning back and dragging me with him.
"If you think it's bad now, just wait until middle school and high school. You'll cry then." I breathed, remembering the days of old.
…Well that was dramatic.
"Hey! Hey! Daiki-kun, do you remember my birthday?!"
I blinked and rubbed my ear, looking down at him with a vague scowl.
"April 24th, you foghorn."
He grinned up at me, completely at peace with being called 'foghorn'. It was nicer than 'baseball idiot', I suppose.
"Yeah! That's, like, a week from now! I'm going to have a party, it'll have cake, candy, presents, baseball and everything!"
I looked down at him blandly as he flailed on my lap, probably would have fallen if it weren't for my arm acting as a backboard.
"Five days, actually, and…?"I asked, tilting my head with a raised eyebrow.
"Well? Can you come?!" He asked, leaning his face near mine.
I looked at him over the rims of my glasses, before dropping my pen and scooping him up. His eight year old body was easy to lift compared to the piles of flour, letting me carry him bridal style. I walked out of my room, descended the stairs and walked into the bakery, Yamamoto's father following close behind.
"Ah, Daiki-kun! How are you?"
I looked up and smiled at the brown haired woman browsing the pastries section, recognising her easily.
"I'm doing well, Sasagawa-san. How about you? Is Ryohei-kun keep out of trouble?" I asked, shrugging the young Yamamoto up when he let go of my neck and started to slip.
"I'm fine, and Ryohei's doing well too. You should come over some time, my little Kyoko-chan really wants to meet you!"
Behind me, Yamamoto's father let out a hearty laugh as he walked over to the woman. They exchanged pleasantries before turning back to me.
"I see Daiki-san's being just as elusive towards your family as he was to me! I only met the boy today!"
I gave a bashful smile before turning to look for my mother, perking up when I saw her come out of the store room. I shifted Yamamoto before running up to her, joining her behind the register.
"Kaa-san! Can I go to Yamamoto-kun's birthday party on the 24th? It's on a Friday!" I asked, bouncing the boy as if to make a point.
She smiled down at us, something flashing through her eyes that I couldn't quite describe, but whatever it was, it made Yamamoto's grip on my shirt tighten.
"Sure, sweetheart! Yamamoto-kun, what do you want as a present?" She asked, crouching down to reach out level.
"Baseball stuff!" He cheered, one hand coming away to fist pump.
I raised an eyebrow, what could the boy not have already?
I guess I could get him a helmet, to avoid any…further brain damage.
"Haha, okay, baseball stuff it is!"
I smiled up at her in thanks, before turning to look at the little one in my arms. His smile was fake again, I don't think he trusts my mother.
I don't blame him.
"Is there a specific theme to the party, Yamamoto-san? A certain dress code?" I asked, turning to the elder.
My mother turned away from us and focused on serving the other woman in the room, taking and packaging the chocolate cupcakes.
"Well, we're going to meet at Takesushi, then go to the local park and play for a while before going back to the shop for pickups. Takeshi-kun here, though, was hoping that you would be able to do a sleepover afterward. If that's okay with you, Yamaguchi-san?" He asked, raising his gaze to her.
I looked up at her, Sasagawa-san already gone, and waited for her response. She had paused and turned to the calendar on the counter, tracing her finger along the 24th.
"Yeah, that sounds fine! From what time to what time?"
I let a chuckle rumble in my chest as I heard Yamamoto whisper a quiet 'victory!' under his breath, amusing me greatly.
"Friday, 3:30pm, to Saturday, 11am? Is that okay?"
"Definitely. We'll see you then, Yamamoto-san."
The man nodded and turned to me and the little rain guardian in my arms, Yamamoto, lolling his head back so he could see his father, albeit upside down.
"Come on Takeshi-kun, let's get going, we need to pick up the fish!"
"Awww! C'mon tou-san! Can I stay with Daiki-kun? Please?" He whined, twisting to wrap his legs around my waist and cling like a koala.
"Takeshi, come along. We don't want to give Daiki-san and Yamaguchi-san trouble."
My mother smiled before raising her hand to pause the older man.
"He could stay, until you finish your order pick up, I don't mind."
One Yamamoto sagged in defeat and the other perked up in happiness.
"If it's no trouble, it would be a great help." The single father laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"No trouble, go on."
Yamamoto and I watched his father walk out and head off to the markets, the little boy still clinging to me. I looked up as mum turned and looked down at me with a smile.
"Okay, before you to run off to play, Daiki-kun, I need you to move some of the flour and grain, again. You put it in the wrong place this morning."
I slapped my forehead when I realised, I had put it down to do something and hadn't come back to it.
"Oh man, I completely forgot! I'll do that now, sorry." I apologised as I ran into the store room, placing Yamamoto down on the cold concrete floor.
"Can I help?" He asked reaching for a 50kg bag of salt.
I scooped him up and disposed of him at the doorstep, worried he'd do damage to himself if he tried to lift the bags.
"Yamamoto-kun, these bags are all 25kg at least, I don't think it is wise for you to move them around." I warned, standing straight and walking over to the unsteady pile of flour that leaned against a 100kg crate of dried meat.
"Why can you pick them up, you're only a year older than me? Are you really strong?" He asked, sitting on the step.
I thought about it for a moment, squatting in front of the 100kg box.
"I suppose so, for my age I guess I am." I said as I lifted it off the ground with a small grunt.
"How heavy if that box?" He questioned, pointing to the wooden box in my hands.
"100kg, it says so here. All the bags and crates are labelled with their weights so people don't hurt themselves." Was my answer as I gestured to the room.
Yamamoto stood and walked to me, holding his hands out.
"Can I feel, only for a bit." He asked, placing his hands under the crate.
I frowned and thought, could I do this without hurting him?
"Your hands, try to keep them right there. I'll slowly add the weight of the crate on them, then you'll see how heavy it is. I won't let it go though, so no need to worry about the full 100kg." I decided, shifting my grip on the box.
"Ready?" I asked, looking at him from around the wood.
"Ready."
I nodded and slowly loosened my arms, making sure to keep a good grip. I stopped when I heard him grunt, pulling back and holding the full weight.
"That was probably 20kgs of weight, I don't want you touching those 50kg bags from before." I stated, before walking away and lowering the box next to a similar crate.
"You move all of these things?" He asked, looking around.
"Yeah, kaa-san hasn't got much muscle on her. I do most of the heavy lifting around the house."
"You're really strong then! No wonder you were able to throw so hard!"
I smiled at him before dropping the last of the bags, and turned to him.
"Yeah, now my warm ups over I can throw even better. I think I have a ball out back, let's play catch?"
"Oh yeah!"
"Yamamoto-kun, please stop."
"You bastard!"
"Let go of my imouto!"
"Onii-san!"
"Watch out!"
"Daiki-kun!"
"Stupid Ryohei-kun…the things I do for…"
I sat in the hospital bed, ignoring the questioning glances of the nurses, instead looking at my reflection in the window.
Why did I do that? Why did I step in? I knew the outcome of the scuffle, but my body moved on its own and took the hit. Why did I take the hit?
I clenched my hands in my lap, my teeth gritted.
I felt like a thief, I had taken something from Ryohei, a characteristic, a flaw, a trademark. I had taken the scar on his temple, I had split my forehead jumping in the way of the punch that was meant for him.
I could only hope that he kept fighting, promising to win.
"Onii-san, y-you have to promise me! Promise that you won't fight anymore, people always get hurt!"
"…I…"
"Onii-san!"
"They hurt Daiki-kun…If it makes you cry, and gets my friends hurt, then I promise not to lose! I'll win!"
"I'm not sure about this, are you sure? You only just got out of the hospital…"
I smiled up at her, sitting next to my mother on the couch. My hand reached up and brushed my stitches, they were itchy and my hair got caught, but I didn't mind.
Neither did mum.
"I'll be fine, I'll have my Panadol and pain-killers with me. If I feel unwell I'll tell Yamamoto-san and come home, I promise." I responded, placing my hand over my heart and my other in the air.
"You really do look like your father, more and more every day. The scar just adds to the likeness." She muttered, tracing the skin around the stitches.
She was right, I did look a lot like him, I had his colouring and his skin tone. My shoulders were broad and my back and wide, my face looked like him too, resulting in a solid jawline and an androgynous face.
He had scars too, one that cut his cheek in a long line from his jaw to his nose. Another one should be marring his face now, if that punch of mine was effective enough. I hope so.
"Okay, you'll be walking with Yamamoto-kun from the school. I'll come and drop your stuff off at their home during school, so no need to worry about that." She said, taking her hand back and folding them in her lap.
"Uh huh, I understand, thank you."
Mum smiled before turning to look at the clock, standing and grabbing her apron.
"It's time for you to go now or you'll be late, I'll see you tomorrow! Play nice, you'll probably be the oldest at the party!"
I nodded and jumped off the couch, grabbing my backpack and taking off down the stairs and out the shop.
"I'm off! See you Saturday!"
"Oh my, Yamaguchi-san!"
"Where'd you get that cut!?"
"Cool, you got stitches!"
"How much blood was there?"
"Now, now children! I don't think Yamaguchi-san likes you all asking him about his stitches!" The teacher called, making the students disperse.
I looked at Ryohei out of the corner of my eye, noticing he was being very quiet. Expected, he thought it was his fault, as anyone would, but the silence was still aggravating.
It was fourth period and I had had just about enough of the situation.
I could handle, understand even, if Ryohei blamed himself. However, the fact that our peers also blamed him. Made. Me. Angry.
It was around the time the teacher had walked out of the classroom to talk to a fellow teacher, that a student had the gall to shoot a spitball at the back of Ryohei's head. Ryohei, himself, accepted the punishment and kept his head down.
That was the last straw for me, I slammed my hands down on my desk and stood sharply. Throwing his desk out of the way, I grabbed Ryohei by the back of his shirt and used all my strength to throw him over my shoulder and stormed out of the classroom.
I brushed past the startled teachers, not caring that they were making out at the least, and walked to the back of the school. I threw Ryohei down and punched the tree behind him, making the leaves fall and a bird to piss off.
"You can hit me, go ahead. It's my fault you-"
"Shut your trap, Ryohei!" I snapped, ditching the '-kun' as my anger brought back Westerner habits.
"Yes, sir…"
I leapt forward and grabbed his collar, lifting him off the ground easily and shook him, my face twisted into an angry snarl.
"Why, Ryohei?!"
He looked down, his fringe shadowing his eyes.
"They took my sis-"
"No! You fucking idiot! I don't care about that! Why the fuck are you letting them do those things to you!?" I roared, throwing him back down.
He fell to the dirt, not fighting back.
I growled and jumped on him, straddling him I grabbed his face and made him look at me.
"Sasagawa Ryohei, look at this!" I growled, pulling my fringe back to show the stitches better.
I felt him flinch and sag, the strain on my arm growing against the weight.
"This wound is on me! Not the other students! They have no right to blame you, you are mine to blame!I blame you! I blame you!" I roared, my grip on his chin tightening.
"I blame you for fighting on your own! Am I so useless to you that you can't ask me for a little help when you need it!? You stupid boy! I got this wound because you didn't think!"
I panted, my nails digging into the skin of his face and my other hand pulling my hair harder. Slowly, I regained control and let out a long breath, calming myself. I looked down at him, he was no longer covering his eyes, tears gathering in the corner of them. A flash of guilt struck through me as I remembered…
"Ryohei, we're only ten. We need to rely on our friends and family when we're out of our depth, lest we drown." I said, before tightening my grip further, nails digging deeper.
"I don't care if you blame yourself or not, not really. If you continue to do so though, I at least expect you to do something to recompense. I took a blow for you, you take a blow for me. If I get in trouble, I'm going to fall back on you for help. Is that clear, Sasagawa Ryohei?" I growled, my teeth coming to bare.
I dropped my arm from my head and let it fall beside his, letting me loom over him.
His eyes were wide, one hand around my wrist to stop my nails from digging further. I refused to break eye contact with him, my brown eyes piercing his own brown. Earth meeting mocha.
"…" He whispered something, too quiet for me to hear despite our close proximity.
"What was that? Speak up, boy!" I growled, making him jump.
"Yes sir, I understand."
I grunted and nodded, letting go of his face, beads of blood bubbling to the surface of the crescents in his face. I looked down at them, a flicker of guilt was squashed as soon as it was felt. I ridded his blood with my sleeve, leaving raw skin behind. I stood, taking a step away from him and crossing my arms.
The classes at the back of the building had heard our one-sided screaming match, causing some of the students to move to the window to see the cause. They crowded the windows and muttered to one another, some pretending to know what was going on, others asking.
I glared at the children, annoyance bubbling to life in my stomach. I scanned their faces, seeing a mixture of emotions, before stopping on a familiar one.
I stared at Yamamoto with the same bland expression that he sent at me, knowing he wanted to know the story.
"Ryohei, get up. We need to get back to class." I stated, offering him my hand, not looking away from the Rain.
"Yes sir." He said, grabbing my hand and letting me hoist him up.
"Drop the 'sir', I'm your friend, you twat. If you screw up, I'm going to set you EXTREMELY straight!" I yelled, letting my lips tilt slightly.
His eyes flickered for a moment before he too smiled, brighter and stronger than mine could ever be.
"You too, Daiki, to the EXTREME!"
"Daaaaiiiiiikiiiiii-kuuuun!"
I stood strong as a body was flung on me and long limbs wrapping around my frame, only stepping back to balance myself.
"Well hello Birthday Boy, finally nine now, huh?" I smirked, down at him.
"You bet! I'm gonna eat so much cake!" Yamamoto grinned, holding the straps of my bag and circling my waist with his legs.
"Uh huh, and I bet you're expecting me to carry you home like this?" I asked, one hand coming up to stop him from leaning too far back.
He lashed his head up and down in an exaggerated nod, leaning into me happily.
I rolled my eyes, noticing people glancing or outright staring at us. Well I guess this was odd, Yamamoto was only a head shorter than me, and probably only weighed a few kilo's less.
"Okay, fine, take your bag off and drop for a second." I told him, dropping my own bag.
I leaned forward and let him clamber up onto my back, picked up our bags and hooked my arms under his legs. I bumped him higher before walking off, following his directions to Takesushi. He grinned the whole way, waving to people if they looked at us oddly or at all. He rattled off about just about everything, his classes, baseball, sushi, baseball, his dad, the baseball that will happen at the party, homework, his friends, baseball.
"It's going to be awesome!" he yelled, butchering the sentence.
"I'm sure it will be, stop screaming, you're right next to my ear." I hummed, leaning my head away from the boy.
"Hehe, sorry, Daiki-kun." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It's fine, just tone it down, I'm literally right here. How much further?"
I shrugged him further up, following the last few directions before the familiar store came into sight. Leaning forwards, I let the little Yamamoto slide the door open and walked in.
"Yamamoto-san?!" I called into the quiet store.
"Tou-san!? Daiki-kun and I are back!" Yamamoto called as well, still sitting on my back.
"I'm in the back! You two go and change, the others will be here in ten minutes!" We heard from the far side of the shop, making me shrug and glance up at the boy on my back.
Ah, so Yamamoto's dad was in the dojo. That's nice.
"Okay!" He called, tugging my hair to guide me over to the housing area behind the shop.
"Take off your shoes here, Daiki-kun." He said as he kicked off his own, making me wobble unsteadily for a second.
I hummed and toed mine off, setting them straight before doing the same to his messy ones. I dropped our bags next to the umbrella stand and stood straight, Yamamoto no longer able to splay out over my back.
"I'll show you my room! That way!" He chirped, pointing towards the far door.
I stared at it, unimpressed by what I was seeing. Baseball themed stickers cover the plain white door, the name 'Takeshi' nailed just above my eye line in blue. I opened the door, using one arm to keep the boy up, and walked in.
Yamamoto shuffled off my back and ran ahead of me, jumping on his bed and pulling out a magazine from the mess of his sheets.
I closed the door behind me and walked over, taking in the baseball themed room. He had a baseball night light. Jesus Christ.
"It's definitely cleaner than my room, that's for sure. You can actually see the floor." I commented, plonking down next to the younger boy.
"Look, look! I got this yesterday, it's got the descriptions of all the players in the Samurai's, Japan's national baseball team! People like Makita Kazuhisa and Shima Motohiro!" He beamed, shoving the open magazine in my face.
I plucked it out of his hands and flipped through it, scanning the bios, showing polite interest.
"Cool, did you get anything else?" I asked, closing and returning the magazine.
He nodded and ran to his closet, taking a white jacket out when showed me his new baseball jersey. I didn't recognise the team, unsurprisingly, but complemented and congratulated anyway.
"What'd you get me?" He asked, leaning forwards expectantly.
I looked to the door and said, "Kaa-san should have brought it while we were at school, it should be somewhere in the house."
He hummed and ran out of the room screaming "Scavenger hunt!"
I rolled my eyes and followed after him quickly, wondering his reaction to the gift.
"I found it! It was under the sink!"
I turned into the kitchen and leaned against the door frame leisurely, watching his shake the dark blue, wrapped box in attempts to figure out its contents.
"What is it?" He asked, flipping it over, trying to find a gap in the wrapping.
"Baseball stuff." I answered blandly.
"Specifics, please dear." He said, repeating the sentence I use against him, quite a lot actually.
"You're a smart kid, you can figure it out." I shrugged, my lip twitching at his pout.
I watched as he shook the box a bit more before putting it down and crossing his arms, glaring down at it.
"Tou-san said I couldn't open any presents until the others get here." He pouted.
I perked up and scooped him up, throwing him over my shoulder and walking back to our bags and brought them to his room.
"On that note, we should get changed." I said tossing him on his bed and throwing his bag on him when he laid there limply.
Turning my back to him, I shrugged my jacket off and unbuttoned my shirt, revealing my washboard abdomen. Opening my bag, I pulled out a black shirt with the number 5 printed in red.
My mother had gotten it for me, and it had quickly become my sport shirt. Reason? Aomine Daiki from Kuroko no Basuke is no.5.
I reached and dropped my pants, pulling on a pair of black shorts quickly as replacement. I folded my uniform and slid it into my bag, before standing and turning to Yamamoto. I blinked when I noted he hadn't changed, still laying on his back with his bag on his stomach.
"Did you just watch me change?" I asked, my face and tone flat.
"You have a big scar on your back." He muttered, his hand twitched sightly.
I raised an eyebrow, that's new. Not.
"I'm aware of that. Why aren't you changed?" I rolled my shoulder, noticing the faint cracking coming from the right one.
"But I'm comfy!" he whined, throwing his head back.
"Yamamoto-kun." I warned, approaching him.
He huffed before turning his head away from me, crossing his arms.
I raised an eyebrow before an idea entered my mind, my hand raised and ventured near his open side. Surging my hand forward, I poked his sensitive side, eliciting a surprised shriek to erupt from the nine year old.
"C'mon Yamamoto-kun, get changed or I'll tickle you."
He remained stubborn and scooted away from me, making me grunt as I noticed that he had boxed himself in between the wall and me.
"Not a very strategic move, I must say." I mocked, crawling up onto the bed and easily poking him again.
He squealed again and grabbed his blankets, cocooning himself in the fabric. He let out a laugh as I let my hands roam, trying to find a kink in his new armour. Finding one, I let my hands slip and feel when it was, his stomach.
I let an evil grin slip across my face, remembering one of my best attributes. My freezing hands that are never warm.
I pulled his shirt up and laid my cold hand along his hot core, the sudden cold making his shriek and recoil. I laughed and followed his retreat, switching to the back of my hand when the palm warmed up.
"C'mon kid, get changed." I laughed as I changed hands, sliding my hand up his back.
"Cold! Cold! Why are your hands so cold!?" He screamed, writhing away from my grasp.
"Because of circulation." I answered truthfully.
I grabbed the sheets with my free hand and tugged it off when his grip loosened, successfully leaving him at my mercy. I laughed when he tried to scramble away, grabbing his arms I easily pinned the boy, letting me smirk down at him.
"I do believe I win this round, and look, your shirts already off." I said, tilting my head back to look down at him with a smirk.
"Fine, I'll change." He pouted, twisting in my grip.
I nodded and let go of him, backing off and grabbing the sports magazine. I read the bio of the first bowler, or pitcher as they said, and raised an eyebrow at the amount of personal details it supplied. Creepy.
"You done yet, kid?" I asked, turning the page.
"Gimme a sec."
"I'm already half way through the magazine, Yamamoto-kun."
"You're just really fast at reading!"
I sighed, closing the magazine as I finished it, the last three pages being empty sticker boxes. Well, now we know where the stickers came from.
"Yamamoto-kun, I have finished the magazine, redressing cannot ta- you're changing your underwear, okay I'll be outside now."
I stood and speed walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.
…
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! MISTAKE! MISTAKE! ABORT MISSION! DON'T STORE MEMORY! BURN IMAGE! NOW!
I groaned and sunk down the door, once again thanking that this body seemed incapable of flushing.
"Hehe, sorry about that."
I sighed and raked my hand through my hair, using the other one to close the door behind him. I waved off the apology, offering my own one as we walked into the shop of Takesushi.
"A bit more warning next time, hey?" I asked, ruffling his hair.
Yamamoto laughed and batted my hand away from his head, reaching up to do the same to me, only for me lean back and get out of his range. He leaned forwards and I reciprocated by leaning further back until I was parallel to the wooden floor with him splayed over my stomach, me straining to hold balance and him straining to reach my head of black hair.
Click!
We turned our heads to see a sweaty, but relaxed Yamamoto standing over us with an amused expression and a camera in hand.
"That's one for the scrapbook, I'll give your mother a copy!" He laughed.
We stayed in the same position as he walked past, opening the fridge and pulling out trays of cut up fruit and lollies.
"As much as your posing is impressing me, I'd appreciate if you two would help me set out the snacks."
We parted quickly and each grabbed a tray, sliding them onto one of the booth's table, before returning to grab the drinks. Yamamoto held the stack of cups, leaving me to lug the 5 litres of cumbersome bottles onto the shoulder height table.
"Careful there, Daiki-san." The oldest Yamamoto laughed as he helped me put them up, before retreating back to the kitchen.
He came back with a permanent marker and began writing the names of the guests the cups, handing me my own to write my name before handing Yamamoto his prewritten one.
I took the pen from him when he finished writing the last name and wrote my name, 大輝, in thick, practiced lines before underlining it. I did not want some kid slobbering over it.
Knock! Knock!
"Yamamoto-san! Roshi-kun and I are here!" a mother's voice called from the entrance as she slid the door open and ducked under the flaps.
"Ah, Roshi-kun!" the littlest Yamamoto cheered before running after his father to greet his guests.
I shrugged before hopping up and sitting at a booth, enjoying the cushioned seats and sipping my apple juice in content as I watched the children pour in. As mother had said, I was definitely the oldest child at the party, the others being nine at the most. I recognised them from the school, but didn't see any of the key characters, making me lose interest fast.
I watched them blankly, they were loud, talked with their mouths full, their footsteps were heavy and they all clambered for the Birthday Boy's attention. They acted like children, and I couldn't fault them for being what they were, but that didn't mean I had to like being in such close proximity. To my relief, it seemed that neither parent nor child had noticed my being there.
Heh, and I had wanted to be a teacher in my past life.
I tipped the last of my juice back, before sliding out of my booth and walking over to where I had put the bottle. I paused when I noticed a short eight year old reach for the bottle, deciding to wait for my turn, and watched as he urged it towards him with the tips of his finger as he stood on his toes. My eyes widened as the bottle tipped dangerously, the contents began to creep towards the open top and the bottle itself slid from the counter and fell towards the child. The parents noticed it a second after I did, panicked gasps and yelps erupting from them.
I surged forwards, cutting through the crowd. I scooped up the bottle, hugging it to me with my left hand and caught the loose liquid with my cup, covering the top with it.
"This is why we always put the lid back on." I muttered as I slowly removed the cup, now having it half full of my original intention.
I poured the stunned child some before putting the bottle back and reaching for the lid, it was hidden among the oreos. Little savages.
"Good catch, Daiki-kun!"
I finished twisting the top back on, before turning to the birthday boy with a raised eyebrow. The call seemed to unfreeze the party, the a parent coming over to check on the child who had begun sipping his juice happily, the others talking to one another and the other children training their eyes on me with surprising intensity.
"You're that boy from this afternoon, right? The one at the back of the school?" A little boy of non-descript appearance asked, getting the attention of the others.
"Yes, my friend and I were having a disagreement that couldn't be handled within the classroom." I answered, nodding before walking back to my booth.
"Daiki-kun, why are you sitting all alone?! Come and be with us!" Yamamoto called, making the adults turn and see me properly.
"…sure..." I muttered, slowly walking over to stand over the little children.
I shifted slightly as their little, prying eyes focused on my stitches and the bruise that painted my temple.
"So, Yamamoto-kun, when are you planning on opening the presents?" I asked, looking down at the Rain.
The boy perked up suddenly, before he turned and ran to his father, calling for his gifts. As per usual, the cloud of children followed the centre of attention, some branching off to grab treats or their presents to display.
I remembered that my present was hidden under the sink and went to collect it, finding it easily, I returned to the circle of children and planted it next to the intended, before walking off to get my drink.
"Not going to sit with the others?"
I looked up to see the eldest Yamamoto smiling down at me, a full cup of juice with my came on it in hand. I reached out for it and gently took it from it with a quiet 'thank you'.
"No, I don't want to cramp Yamamoto-kun's style with my old people ways." I laughed, shrugging.
"Yes! Tou-san, I got Aoizaka High School Baseball Club! Finally! Thank you Daiki-kun!"
I turned and saw Yamamoto wearing the shiny new, blue batter's helmet and clutching the four pack of the baseball manga with a grin on his face. I smiled and inclined my head, acknowledging his thanks silently.
"Okay kids, get a partner and hold onto them! We're going to the park!" Yamamoto's voice boomed over the laughing children, calling them to attention.
I watched the children either flock the birthday boy or fall into line with their friends, myself already walking over to the adult and grabbing his hand.
"Is something wrong, Daiki-kun?" He asked, looking down at me.
"Yamamoto-kun looks a bit preoccupied, I'll be your partner." I said, falling in line with him.
I didn't notice the youngest Yamamoto's glance when I finished my sentence, content to be where I was. He lead the way to the park, holding hands with a girl from his class, me and the adult following from the back, making sure none of the children wondered.
I held the bat under my arm and the ball in hand, the single father to the right of me holding mats to be used as bases under his arm, free hand securely around mine.
"So, Daiki-kun, other than Takeshi-kun, do you have any other friends?"
I looked up at the sudden question before a wave of depression hit me.
I had one other friend.
Jesus Christ, I needed to step up my game.
"I have Sasagawa Ryohei, I've known him since preschool." I answered, turning back to the trail of children in front of us.
"…Is that all?"
"Yeah. I don't have much of a social life, sadly." I mumbled, spinning the ball in my hand.
He didn't say much after that, the pair of us falling into silence.
We crossed the street and then the children dispersed into the field, being able to run freely under the watchful eye of the sushi chef.
I let go of the man's hand and walked over to a shady part of the oval, plopping my ass down at the base of a tree.
"Hey, where's the bat and ball?!" Yamamoto called to his father, only to be pointed to me as I held up the desired equipment.
The birthday boy and his ducklings followed the finger and came to take the bat and ball. I tossed the ball at him and offered the bat to the girl who had partnered with him, folding my empty hands in my lap.
"You're coming to play, right? It's funner when you pitch!" Yamamoto asked, crouching before my seated form.
"Funner, is not a word, kid. I'll play later, now shoo, go get warmed up." I answered, waving the group off.
I blinked when the group froze, their eyes all pinned to the foliage of the tree above me. Yamamoto's smile hardened slightly and he gripped his ball tighter, his other hand moved an inch towards me.
"Herbivores, stop crowding, or I'll bite you to death."
Mother of-
