"Start warming up."
Shuuzou's grateful, for once, that he functions partly as a coach as well, as with the structuring of their team. He grabs the opportunity with his teeth to not play. Parts of him still ache, and he doesn't want to risk making it worse. Besides, his ankle injury is enough to get him benched temporarily, so it's not a complete abuse of power.
"Why isn't he playing?" He hears Shougo whining, and can hardly stop himself from rolling his eyes; trust Shougo to point every inconsistency out, "What the fuck, how's this fair?"
"My ankle's currently not in great shape," He inwardly winces at how croaky his voice sounds, but he plows through, "But I can still beat you up if you want me to, punk."
Act normal.
"I wasn't saying nothing!" The silver-haired Alpha shrugs lightly, before stealthily making his way to the other side of the court, where the other first-stringers are warming up.
Shuuzou watches him go with tired, heavy eyes. He can still feel the bruises, the strong press of hands against his skin and—no. He's not going to think about it, he's not going to think about it.
"Are you sure you want to stay here, Nijimura?" He looks up in surprise at Sanada, who's looking determinedly across the court, "I can pardon you for a day, it won't kill you."
The unspoken 'you already look half-dead' lingers in the air, but Shuuzou ignores it.
"No, I'm good," The lie feels heavy against his tongue, "Besides, someone's gotta set an example for these brats, right?"
"Nijimura, you know what I'm talking about." The older man fixes him with a stare that Shuuzou dedicatedly ignores, "After that match you haven't been the same—"
"I'm not talking to you about this." He interjects coldly, trying to block his mind from those thoughts, "My ankle's been frustrating me, that's it, that's the story."
Like gifts sent from the Heavens, he sees Ryouta and Daiki starting to get into a heated argument, and waves at them casually.
"Don't you think you should break it apart?" He asks, "Sei's not here today either."
The older man seems to get the hint, levelling him with a glare to no effect, before taking off to the other side of the court in long strides.
Shuuzou sighs once he leaves, head falling back against the wall with a soft thump. He can't show any weakness, especially not here. Teiko is not a place for the weak, after all, unless they have someone strong protecting them. In this case, Shuuzou has no one, hence why it's important he treads carefully.
He only just managed to convince his mentor not to go on a murderous rampage the other day, right after their match. He still remembers the horrified realization in the man's eyes, the sickening understanding, and even thinking about it makes him repulsed. He's not entirely sure himself, of how he managed to do it, but it's something he's unwilling to question.
His jacket pocket burns.
He carefully reaches his fingers inside, hand brushing against the rough, scratchy paper hesitantly. He doesn't know what's wrong with him, why he's keeping it with himself, against the basics of common sense. Well, something's always been wrong with him, just that he's never known what.
He looks up, sees the main team walking back toward him, undoubtedly for some sort of plan of action. Sanada's not to be seen, though Shuuzou doesn't worry too much about it, and he looks up at them instead.
"Coach didn't tell you what to do yet?"
"No, he hasn't, senpai." A voice sounds from right next to him, and he barely manages to stop the rising flinch when it registers.
"Alright, thanks Tetsuya." He nods, before frowning thoughtfully, "I'm not sure what he wants you to do today, so why don't you just play a 3 on 3?"
"Half or full?" Daiki's grinning already, obviously pumped up.
"Make it a full-court match for now." He orders, "And you can decide the teams."
There's a shocked silence, which makes him blink in surprise, "Well?"
"…We get to decide teams?" Ryouta questions, skepticism coloring his tone, "Are you—are you sure, senpai?"
"Yes." He grinds out, frustrated, "Now go."
The flat tone doesn't seem to fall short on any of them, not even Atsushi or Shougo, because they just look at each other before taking off. Shuuzou doesn't pay them much attention as he settles back, though there's still something gnawing at his mind.
Is he changing? He's trying so hard to be normal, to pretend nothing's ever happened, but people still keep doubting him, keep doubting his words, and it's slightly terrifying. No one can find out. This is a secret Shuuzou wants to take to the grave.
His eyes begin to glaze over as he further slips into his thoughts, until long, pale fingers snap in front of his face, shocking him out of it.
"You seem unfocused today."
"Oh, Sei," He says, a little breathlessly in his surprise to see the redhead, "You back so soon?"
"Yes, apparently, the council did not require my presence for too long," The short Alpha nods, before his ruby eyes flick almost knowingly over Shuuzou's form, "But you didn't answer me, senpai."
"Why would I need to answer you, brat?" Shuuzou ruffles his hair, trying to keep the small grin from slipping, "I'm the senpai here."
But something still pulls at him, makes him want to spill his guts to the Akashi. He doesn't.
"Alright, guys, gather up!" Sanada calls strongly and, luckily, Shuuzou's been sitting next to him the whole time, else he would've had to get up. His mind is a little frayed at the edges from having to watch everyone play for so long without him, and resisting the urge to go join them himself, hence why it feels like his senses have amplified.
Along with the pain.
"Eh~? What is it?" Atsushi drawls out boredly, while Shintaro stares at him unabashedly with a critical eye, "This is boring."
"Patience, Atsushi." Seijuro interjects before Shintaro can lose his patience, turning to Sanada with inquisitive eyes, "What is it that you need to tell us?"
"Right, we'll be having a practice match soon." The brunette says, and Shuuzou wants to rip his hair out because he can't play damn it, why.
"Against who?" Daiki frowns, though his eyes begin to light up, as they always do now, "Is it a team we know?"
"Yes, we've played with them recently," Sanada nods, and Shuuzou's gut begins to churn uneasily, voice whispering in his head, "Tanashi High."
No.
His fingernails dig blunt imprints into the inside of his thighs, and he's glad his head is lowered so no one can see his constricted pupils, his fearful trembling. He can't, he can't do this. It's a lie, everything's a lie, they're lying to him, it can't be real—
'I'll be back for you.'
"Shuuzou!" He jolts, caught off guard, only to see that the space around him is mostly empty, save for a grim Sanada, "Seriously, what's wrong with you? I understand your injury, but shouldn't you stop slacking off?"
"Slacking off?" He whispers quietly to himself, biting back the bitter laugh that struggles to escape his throat and getting up instead, methodically picking up his stuff, "Yeah, I guess."
He starts limping away before the Coach can even get another word in, sentence burning holes through his mind with how many times he's running over it again and again.
He doesn't know what hurts more: his body, or that remark. He's honestly offended, of course he is, but a part of his mind still rings with uncertainty at the thought that maybe he's not fit enough to be captain. Maybe he doesn't deserve it.
He shakes the thought out of his head immediately, eyes scrunching close in the process, before slowing to a stop, noting where he is in almost palpable fear. He's standing, once again, in front of…that place. The place he never wants to see or go again.
His mind feels detached from his body, and Shuuzou briefly wonders if he should just quit, give up now, while he still can. But he doesn't want to leave his team alone again, not after what happened last time. Shuuzou doesn't mean to sound arrogant or anything, but that's what he wonders sometimes, that maybe he's taking too much credit.
Still, it's best to play it safe, isn't it?
"Yo, Nijimura, are you gonna go to the bathroom or not?"
He startles at the unexpected voice, sees one of his many faceless year-mates looking at him quizzically almost, and shakes his head.
"Thank you, but no." He shakes his head, quiet, before turning to walk away, "I was caught up in my thoughts, sorry."
He's hyperaware of the student's gaze boring into his back, making his skin prickle, and the feeling doesn't leave him until he turns at the next corridor. He stays still against the wall for a few moments, trying to slow his heart, before berating himself internally. He's trying so hard to be normal when it's clearly not possible and he doesn't know…he doesn't know what to do.
His head thumps back against the wall.