Disclaimer: Can I have PoT for Christmas, please?

A second figment of my imagination. Review, please, and tell me how you'd like this to end, or how I can improve, etc.

To Walk Into The Setting Sun

No matter whom one is, one is very likely to cry at least a few times in one's life. And crying, as almost everyone will know, is both physically and mentally exhausting. Add a strenuous game of brutal tennis to this, and it was no wonder that Yukimura practically had to be half-carried to Sanada's house. It would have been easier for them to take the bus, but Sanada lived only two bus stops away from school, and in this case stumbling along was simpler than boarding the bus. Sanada had made the decision for them, since his house was nearer- the other boy's house was further off by a good number of bus stops.

Yukimura knew, with an inward grimace, that the moment he sat down, his body would not allow him to move again for quite some time. He hated such weakness, and he hated that Sanada refused to stop supporting him.

There was a proverb, wasn't there-

The spirit is strong but the body is weak.

His spirit had never faltered, except for the moment ago when he had lost control of itself- but like the Hydra in Greek mythology, it didn't take long for a new and stronger resolve to start reasserting itself. Yukimura's body, however, was a different matter: it had its limits, and after the long illness…

They took off their shoes at the entrance, and a clear "Tadaima!" from his vice-captain broke the otherwise serene atmosphere of the Sanadas' home. Sanada's mother, a strict-faced and neatly dressed woman, came out to welcome them. She opened her mouth to speak, then caught sight of both boys' faces, and sighed.

"Yukimura-kun, feel free to stay over if you want –you can use the usual futon, it's in the storeroom- I'll call your parents. And clean yourselves up, I'll bring something for you two to drink afterwards."

Yukimura was reminded just how much he had taken an instant liking to Sanada's mother, who was a slightly gentler version of the solid and dependable Sanada. He bowed, more deeply than the curt one he gave other adults, and Sanada brought him to his room.

Being the leader of the Troika, and being one of Sanada's best friends, Yukimura had naturally seen the inside of his personal room many times. The clean lines and simple décor, however, never failed to appeal to him. In accordance with Japanese decoration, it was sparsely furnished, with only the essentials, but the view overlooking the small garden more than made up for it.

There was something new, though: besides the neat pile on Sanada's desk that was his homework was a small potted bonsai. Yukimura wandered over to it, directed purely by surprise, because Sanada changing anything in his room was something of a rarity.

He touched the dark green leaves of the little potted plant, and saw that it had been cared for well. There was something more than the usual kind of care, though. The plant looked like its owner had given it something more than water and a good place.

"Genichirou, this plant…"

Yukimura hadn't expected the normally expressionless face of his vice-captain to colour. Perhaps he shouldn't have asked that question, then. But before he could apologize, or change the subject, Sanada cut in. Another unusual thing.

"I'll tell you the truth, then, Seiichi," A deep breath, then the hard intensity of Sanada's dark gaze was directed entirely at him. Yukimura held his breath, unconsciously. "This plant was meant to be your gift for Nationals." Winning the championship went unsaid, but it echoed in the room. "A sort of farewell present too, I guess."

What a gift. Yukimura wasn't sure how he should react, if he should laugh hysterically or start crying all over again. But he was sure that crying once in front of Genichirou earned him comfort, while twice only got him a reputation as a crybaby. So he blinked fiercely, and was relieved that his voice didn't seem to waver.

"I don't deserve the plant now, Genichirou," A sweepingly dismissive gesture of his hand, then a carefully-careless shrug of his shoulders. "I lost, didn't I, and when the team depended on me-"

I failed them.

Realizing that was nothing but hurt all over again. It was as if someone had roughly pulled out the knife embedded in him and stabbed it back, exactly in the same place.

Sanada let Yukimura use the shower first, unfailingly polite, and let him pick out clothes from his own wardrobe. There was no embarrassment at this, since they had both decided on spur-of-the-moment sleepovers in each other's houses before. But while Yukimura could slip into Sanada's larger clothing easily, Sanada was exceedingly uncomfortable with skin-tight shirts, and so somehow always had a spare outfit with him.

Dinner was quiet, too, and peaceful compared to the turmoil of the day. They were both tired out, and went to bed early. Yukimura closed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge that his body ached, but he could not sleep.

He spent a while trying to even out his breathing, or at least pretend to Sanada that he was sleeping, but gave it up. The next few hours were spent tossing fitfully, clutching at cloth, until Yukimura lost track of time. Judging from Sanada's even breathing, though, he was sound asleep, and the house was silent enough that it was probably 2am or so.

He got up silently, and slipped open the sliding doors to the garden. For Yukimura, clad only in a thin, baggy shirt and slacks, it was bitingly chilly, although the day had been warm for autumn. He settled himself on a small stone bench, and looked at the moon and stars. They twinkled peacefully back at him, so Yukimura allowed himself to relax a little more and soak in the calm acceptance of the stars.

He would have to face the world, still, and that could not be changed; but being in this little garden where time seemed to have stopped was healing him, little bit by little bit. Yukimura gazed wordlessly at the pebble pattern on the ground, tracing it with a bare foot, but a cold flicker of the loss still lingered at the edge of his memory, and it irritated him to no end that such a thought could exist even here.

A shadow fell over him, and Yukimura looked up.

"You're awake?"

"Never slept," Sanada told him, and Yukimura couldn't resist a quirk of his lips that Sanada was that good at faking sleep.

He swept his longish hair behind his shoulders and moved over on the bench, letting Sanada settle down beside him. It was suddenly warmer, and Yukimura slid a little closer to the heat of Sanada's body. Sanada sucked in a breath when Yukimura's hand accidentally brushed his.

"Seiichi, your hands are freezing! Ah, here,"

And before Yukimura could protest, a solid mass of cloth was draped over him, and then he found he didn't want to protest after all. Sanada's jacket was far too comfortable.

They sat in silence for a little while longer, and Yukimura found the resolve within him to settle things. It was like having pins and needles, he reasoned, it was painful to move the affected part, but leaving it would only worsen the problem. It was tiring being so emotional, even if it had only been half a day, and he'd spill all. Talk, scream, cry- it'd be good to have everything done with. So Yukimura bit his lip, then turned to Sanada.

"I want to… trash things out, Sanada. Let me rant. You don't have to say anything."

Sanada nodded, mutely, though a slightly raised eyebrow showed his surprise.

Yukimura started, and found he couldn't stop. "Why did I lose, Sanada, and to a stupid little Echizen? I could beat anyone else, even Tezuka, Atobe… and I lost to a freshman? It isn't fair, isn't, and right after I was in hospital…"

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and continued after a few false starts. "I'm not as strong as everyone thinks I am, Genichirou. I cried in the hospital, when it was dark and when nobody was there. I despaired before the operation, and- you don't know how much I feared losing."

This was awkward, this was absolutely not eloquent, and his voice was still shaky. But it was good to say everything out, and saying it to only his closest friend made it easier.

This thought made Yukimura emit a short laugh, then he said, "You know, when I started playing, no one could believe that I'd go this far." Yukimura let his hand slide over his jaw. "Everyone thought I was too delicate, too small, too girly. I proved them wrong, and yet now…"Self-pity wasn't something he indulged in, so he told only the truth.

"I've fallen from my pedestal, Genichirou."

Yukimura, by then, had given up on whatever grief he had. What was left was anger that he couldn't direct anywhere (unless Sanada didn't mind his garden being wrecked), so he reached out instinctively, and hooked his arms around Sanada's neck.

Everything else proceeded in a blur of dark hair and closed eyes, though Yukimura could feel that Sanada was unyielding in shock, and so he did the only thing that was possible now. He brushed his lips against the larger boy's mouth. That action startled Sanada from his daze, and convinced him enough to hesitantly kiss back. It was slightly awkward, with Seiichi's hair having to be tucked back by Genichirou and Seiichi having to incline his head while shifting to accomodate the height difference, but they were kissing.

Yukimura understood a little of why lovers had done crazy things over the ages, why Juliet had been foolish enough to think it was romantic to kill herself for Romeo- while this was not so dramatic, but they were kissing, in the garden of Sanada's house, where it was wrong and anyone could see them.

But for now, neither of them could care.

Review, or angry!Yukimura v1.2 is coming after you :)