Honestly, at first, he was terrified of Yasutomo.
Yuusuke had chosen Sohoku specifically for its road racing club. He filled out an application as soon as he managed to get his hands on it, and snuck over to the clubroom the very morning they officially opened their doors to new members, in the hopes of avoiding needless comparison with more promising recruits. A week of constant harassment by teachers and nothing but queasy looks from his peers convinced Yuusuke it was better this way… except someone managed to precede him after all. As if the idea of introducing himself to his future senpais wasn't nerve-wracking enough, the moment they crowded around Yuusuke, urging him to show off his climbing skills, a second-year called Shiraiwa turned around and called out,
"You're coming, too, Arakita-kun!"
"Haaah?!"
His voice, that high-pitched caricature of small-time thugs sent shivers down Yuusuke's spine. He half expected an oily pompadour and a skull-emblazoned leather jacket, but with his cropped black hair, those slender, perpetually bent eyebrows, and a lopsided mouth that barely fit on his face, scraggy and sweaty Yasutomo looked more like a drenched wolverine.
"I'm not going, it's annoying!" he slammed his locker shut. "What do I care about climbing, huh?!"
"No matter what the captain says, you won't last long with that attitude," his senior wagged a finger, and Yuusuke secretly hoped his words would prove prophetic. "Besides, you're a beginner, so you need all the experience you can get, Arakita Yasutomo!"
Yasutomo clicked his tongue, then shot Yuusuke a glare. Yuusuke's heart hammered in his chest.
"You'd better be amazing, you gangly bastard," spat Yasutomo as he took a step forward, his legs trembling in the effort. Yuusuke's eyes widened. Just how hard has this guy been working out..?
"We'll lead the way, so follow us," another senior told Yuusuke. He whirled around at once to get his road racer, glad for an excuse to keep his eyes on the ground as he pushed it after them, but all the way, Yuusuke could feel Yasutomo's eyes bore into his back. At one point, he could have sworn he heard a sniffing sound and turned his head instinctively, to see Yasutomo's nose had crinkled, nostrils flaring like a hound that caught the scent of blood.
What's with that face, thought Yuusuke as he whipped his head back and pushed his GIAS just a little faster. Was he smelling me? Why? Do I smell bad? Am I really so disgusting to you?!
His heart lodged into his throat. His grip tightened on the handlebars.
Calm down, Makishima Yuusuke! You're about to climb. Taking your road racer to the top will set you free..! You will show them.. how you can change the world around you!
His lips twitched into a faint smile. After all, it was his seniors' opinion that really mattered, right? Who cared what a beginner had to say..!
A few more sniffs, and Yasutomo fell silent. Yuusuke's shoulders loosened just a bit.
Shiraiwa and the others led Yuusuke to an artificial slope behind the school, where two more members joined to watch him climb. Yuusuke led his road racer to the base and glanced back one last time, to find that Yasutomo now stared at him in anticipation.
Just you wait, Yuusuke launched forward, his smile swelling into soundless laughter as he twisted his faithful GIAS to its limits. I will change the world! I will change everything around me!
Except when he finally reached the top, what pierced his happy bubble wasn't praise or acknowledgment. By the time his foot touched the ground, derisive laughter filled Yuusuke's ears.
"What was that weird dancing?!"
"You can't even do the basics! Were you using that dancing to get a laugh? It's no good at all!"
"Hilarious! Go get Hamano, he's gotta see this!"
Yuusuke couldn't breathe. Were they all jeering? Even him…?
"With you, I think we'll start by going over the basics again," Shiraiwa shook his head.
"Yeah. We'll fix your form for you. Leave it to us."
You don't have to fix it, Yuusuke gritted his teeth on the verge of tears. You're free to do anything on a bike! Am I wrong?! I…
And then, he joined in from below.
"Senpai…"
Though Yasutomo had to raise his voice, he sounded so calm, so detached from this humiliating scene that Yuusuke set his jaws for fear he might start screaming. It was over. He had failed to impress anyone, and now Arakita Yasutomo was going to tear his charred remains to pieces.
"What's so wrong with this guy's dancing. Huh?"
Stunned silence followed. Shiraiwa spluttered with surprised laughter.
"Are you kidding me, didn't you see how he—"
"I saw that this guy was confident he could do it, and he scaled that slope pretty damn fast," replied Yasutomo, his tone unnervingly even. "Isn't that what climbing is about, Senpai."
Two whole seconds passed. Shiraiwa forced a smile.
"Arakita-kun, a beginner like you wouldn't understand—"
"Are you saying there's only one way of climbing in the entire world, Senpai. Huh? Are you saying there are no different techniques at all? No different styles that suit your build or abilities?"
Three seconds now. Yuusuke's stomach lurched, settled and lurched in a rising tide of nausea. Shiraiwa's brow twitched.
"Now you listen to me, Arakita-kun."
"Senpai… just accept that this guy can climb in a way you can't," shrugged Yasutomo. "He's gangly and bendy, so he climbs like a spider, and you're all stiff, so you climb like you have a stick up your ass."
Yuusuke's heart stopped. Shiraiwa's grin turned hysterical.
"Arakita-kun… how would you like another hour on the rollers?"
"Whatever makes you feel big, Senpai," Yasutomo turned around, lifting a hand to wave. "To the rollers, then! Great job, everyone. Real supportive."
"That's it for today," Shiraiwa turned back to Yuusuke, smoldering. "Come back tomorrow. Welcome to Sohoku's road racing club."
Vomit pooled in his throat, but Yuusuke swallowed and nodded.
What was that guy thinking? What was he trying to do?!
Yuusuke must have asked himself a thousand times, but no matter how he looked at it, Arakita Yasutomo remained a mystery to him.
Unable to face his fears just yet (Sheesh… you have no spine, Yuusuke!), he sought out Shiraiwa the next day, to excuse himself from attending that afternoon.
Shiraiwa made a face. "Arakita didn't put you off, did he? Never mind him. He's a jackass, but extra practice might teach him some manners eventually," he laughed. Yuusuke's eyes fell. "Personally, I wish he'd join a different club, but Kanzaki-san told us to take good care of him."
"Kanzaki-san..?"
"He's captain of the road racing club, and the one who recruited Arakita. He'll be joining us today."
Yuusuke frowned. If Kanzaki-san seriously looked at Arakita Yasutomo and thought, This is just what my club needed, he was bad news.
"Are you sure you can't come, Makishima? Two more first-years are joining today. Don't you want to meet them?"
And watch them get humiliated? No thanks, sho!
"I… have somewhere to be today, sho."
"I see. Oh well..! Come back tomorrow, then, and we'll start on fixing your form!"
I could just quit right now and be done with this, Yuusuke thought to himself as he left the classroom, but the idea of running away somehow chafed him… and so the day after, he returned to the clubroom, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach.
He froze in the doorway. By the lockers stood two students he didn't recognize, and who else but Arakita "Jackass" Yasutomo.
"Oh, you came back after all," drawled Yasutomo. "I thought you quit." Yuusuke could feel his neck sink between his shoulders as he approached them.
"Are you Makishima-kun, then?" asked one of the first-years. "Kinjou Shingo. Nice to meet you."
"Tadokoro Jin!" bellowed the other. "I'm a sprinter! I'll race you any day!"
Yuusuke raised his hands defensively.
"Makishima.. Yuusuke… sho." What a pushy guy…
"Is everyone here? Good," said Shiraiwa. "Today's training menus depend on your level of experience. Kinjou and Tadokoro will be training with the third years…"
"Yes, sir!"
"Tadokoro, lower your voice!"
"S-Sorry!"
"And Arakita and Makishima are beginners, so you'll be training with us."
Yuusuke's lip curled in terror. Why? Why did I have to get stuck with this guy?!
"You got a problem..?" Yasutomo quirked a brow. Yuusuke whipped his head away.
Calm down, Yuusuke… if we ride outside, you can just keep your distance…!
And at first he succeeded, too, if only because flats had never been his strong suit. Within five minutes of starting out, Yuusuke was lagging behind the pack, but as soon as they noticed, Shiraiwa and his friend fell back to either side of him.
"You're slow on flats... like a turtle!" scolded Shiraiwa. "You really were lying about having experience, weren't you?"
Yuusuke hung his head. A third cyclist closed in on a dirty Bianche.
"Senpai…"
Yuusuke wanted to scream.
"Does mocking this guy make you feel good, Senpai?"
"He seemed faster when you weren't breathing down his neck."
"Senpai…" "Oi, Senpai…"
And it just wouldn't stop. From that day onward, Yuusuke was crushed between Shiraiwa and his friend in order to correct his form, and each time, Arakita Yasutomo heckled them until he was punished needlessly, since their seniors never did stop torturing Yuusuke.
Why are you doing this?! Yuusuke gritted his teeth. Do you pity me? Am I this much of a charity case?!
But he stayed silent… till three weeks later, Yasutomo got two more laps for suggesting Shiraiwa had an unusually small penis. By the time he started on the third, everyone had gone home except Yuusuke, who stewed in silence until Yasutomo rolled in, dripping with sweat.
"Ah, it's Makishima. What's up. Were you waiting for me."
Yuusuke's fists clenched. It's now or never, Yuusuke!
"Can you stop, sho?"
"Huh? I just did."
"You know what I mean!" snapped Yuusuke. "Just shut up! I have enough problems without you harassing me! I hate you! All you do is make me feel worse, jackass!"
Yasutomo blinked… then cracked a grin.
"Heh… so you're frustrated after all."
Yuusuke stared at him bewildered. Yasutomo's expression sobered.
"Makishima… I know how you feel. I know what it's like to feel humiliated because you can't do things the way you want to."
"What are you saying, sho?" blurted Yuusuke. "Are you— are you hiding your real form, too?!"
"Nah, I'm nothing special."
"Then how—"
The words died in his throat as Yasutomo tugged up his right sleeve and held out his arm. Along the bend of his elbow ran a long scar, thick and jagged as a centipede.
"This arm once made me the best new pitcher of Kanagawa," began Yasutomo, his voice distant. "And then I broke my elbow, just before the regional tournament. I started practicing again as soon as it healed, but I never recovered. Instead, everyone was staring at me and talking shit behind my back as I kept making subpar pitches that were nowhere near my original form."
Yuusuke paled.
"Arakita… I—"
"You see my problem now, you gangly bastard?!" Yasutomo jabbed him in the chest. "You keep reminding me of me when I was miserable! Only your arm isn't broken! Your legs aren't broken! It's just your self-confidence that's broken, Makishima! If you can't stand up for yourself, at least work on your real form in secret so you can be ready when your time comes! It's not like you're stuck on a court during practice hours, idiot! With a bike, you can go anywhere! Fuck! Watching you flounder at practice makes me wanna kill myself, dumbass!"
Yuusuke stared at him flustered. Yasutomo sighed and slumped forward.
"Man… I'm exhausted. But joke's on Shiraiwa. I'm getting stronger.. Aaah, I'm starving…"
And just like that, he turned his Bianche around before Yuusuke could ask if he wanted to get a drink, or anything.. at all…
Yuusuke only hesitated for a second, but by the time he lifted a hand and opened his mouth to say something, anything, the distance between them had stretched into a chasm and left him stranded on the edge, no longer of interest and painfully invisible to Arakita Yasutomo. Only by raising his voice could Yuusuke have seized his attention again, to realize in growing bitterness that he couldn't so much as breathe a word – not for fear of being heard, but for fear of being ignored.
He clamped down on his bottom lip, cheeks seared in shame. Hadn't he been wishing for weeks on end that Yasutomo would swallow his tongue and never speak again? That his glaringly brand new, state of the art, yet obnoxiously filthy Bianche would disappear from the bicycle rack and wind up in a better place? So what was Yuusuke doing now, staring after him with hunched shoulders as Yasutomo dragged off his road racer in the direction of.. the club…?
Yuusuke's brow furrowed in alarm. Why would Yasutomo go back there? Had he been punished even worse than Yuusuke was aware of? Did Yasutomo finish three whole laps around their traditional long-distance course just to get stuck on the rollers again, all because of him..?
Yuusuke clenched his fists, ignoring the way his heart thrashed in his chest. He took a deep breath to steel himself, and a moment later, he grabbed his GIAS and turned it around to sneak after Yasutomo, pushing just fast enough not to make a sound.
He sought cover behind an old cherry tree and poked his head out, watching in growing confusion as Yasutomo slowly guided his Bianche into the bicycle rack of the road racing club. He patted the saddle with a slurred yet affectionate "Good work today, Bian," then shambled off with his helmet tucked under his arm, further and further inward. Unable - no, refusing to give up now, Yuusuke crept after him, his heart lodged in his throat… then crumbled to a halt as the dormitories swam into view and Yasutomo disappeared inside the very first building, the door clicking closed behind him.
Yuusuke's jaw fell. Only his embarrassment could rival his astonishment as he stared at that row of depressingly identical, block-like structures, with rooms barely fit to sleep, let alone live in.
He lives here…?
After a whole day of classes and getting worked to death, Arakita comes back to this…?
Yuusuke couldn't breathe.
He staggered to the nearest bench and collapsed, hands raking through his hair. He looked at that brand new, yet dusty and neglected Bianche, and imagined a spoiled young master who couldn't even care for his expensive toys, but at the end of the day, Arakita Yasutomo seemed to have nothing, not even the energy to wipe down his frame.
You're scaring me, Arakita, Yuusuke gritted his teeth. How can you care so much when you're just barely scraping by?! You're terrifying!
It's terrifying.. how strong you are…