Summary: In which we learn paperwork is the basis for being a Reaper and that you still need someone to help repair the photocopy machine even when you're dead.

Standard and previous disclaimer applies.

Notes: 4 Jan 2020 Ken's and Takafumi's scenes have been edited with additional dialogue.

WATARI

Five years and one day ago. Meifu, Land of the Dead.

"Begin by stepping forward with the left foot, then the right, and finally bring your left foot in line with your right before you begin the Pace of Yu; this is the basic Star-Stepping Pattern that all respectable onmyouji must learn before you perform the more complex versions. This centres your mind and spirit to perform the basic meditation and also acts as demon or yuurei warding…"

Becoming a Shinigami, Watari realised, required a lot of studying.

There were the Meifu law classes, because becoming a Shinigami didn't mean going out and fighting bad ghosts and riding off into the sunset, unfortunately. There were actual laws that governed inter-dimensional travel that only Shinigami were allowed to do; to cross between Meifu, the Land of the Dead and Chijou, the Land of the Living. There were laws that stated which level of Hell's army if caught on earth can be immediately destroyed, and which rank would require a Commander of the Divine Twelve to apprehend.

(That same Commander was another Shinigami called Tsuzuki, apparently, who had a fondness for sweets and chocolates, said a wry Tatsumi and a propensity to accidentally cause catastrophical property damage when he got into brawls over the last donut in the office with Terada, a fellow death god.)

There were lessons on understanding the politics between Meifu and Makai, and then there were the onmyoujitsu classes, where he learned that yin yang knowledge and application was more than just finding the best spot to open your restaurant. It meant understanding which divine protection was best used for which situation and whether he should use the Secret Invocations of the Six Jia, or recite the Nine Heavens to protect himself from a vengeful spirit.

And becoming an onmyouji, a practitioner of the art of onmyoujitsu, meant he had to become intimately familiar with spell backlash (it's a bitch), demons (they weren't kidding about Hell having an army?) and that Tatsumi Seiichiro looked rather hot when he showed Watari's small class how a kagetsukai or Shadow Master incorporated onmyoujitsu in their spells. It was the glasses, combined with the suit. The mix of modern suave when executing spells of Class A caliber made Watari shiver and grateful he had a desk to hide his rather unfortunate reaction behind.

(Watari was almost embarrassed to discover that his own innate ability, unlike Tatsumi's control over shadows, was the skill to bring his drawings to life. It would have been impressive if his drawings were not much better than a five year old's.)

He was also a little disconcerted to find that being dead did not mean an escape from paperwork. Because Lord Enma Dai-oh, Judge of the Dead apparently believed in proper procedures and documentation. So that meant everything had to be done in duplicates.

Even his second existence required wrapping his head around the fact that Meifu, the Land of the Dead of which he now resided, mirrored the living. The Shokan, or the Summoning Division of which all Shinigami were assigned to, was housed in an alternate version of the congress building in Tokyo, the Diet. There were offices and water coolers, photocopy machines (how did they get the Fujitsu service guys to come?), coffee machines and a cafeteria. And of course it meant that Lord Enma had his own office as well, because why not?

All that combined and the former human thought he would have had a harder time to adjust in being a god of death, but the months flew by, even if it was forever springtime in Meifu, cherry blossom petals eternally falling. There were sessions on the proper method to counsel, entrap or banish spirits; how to negotiate with demi-gods and acquire a contract of service with one and even a class on Makai language, the language of demons. He was also made to understand by a brusque employee of the Shiroku who ran him through his onboarding, that while he was practically immortal and would look exactly like how he was before he died, screwing around as a Shinigami meant his status would be revoked and he'd get a one way no-return ticket to the lowest pits of hell.

It made Watari all the more keen to understand this new existence he found himself living (was he technically 'alive'?) and memorise the rules front and back because he didn't dare risk banishment.

Not until he found out why his best friend had killed him.

The blonde unwrapped his sandwich, letting the white noise of the lunchtime crowd cocoon him. It hadn't taken long for him to realise that while Meifu had a sprawling, human-like government staffed by spirits of the dead, only the Shinigami were granted flesh and blood bodies and able to travel the world of the living, Chijou. It made the small division unique, and both envied and pitied by anyone not a Shinigami. You were either jealous of a Reaper for being able to walk among the living and pretend to be one for a while, or felt bewilderment that anyone would willingly leave the eternal peace of Land of the Dead.

And the souls that populated Meifu, Watari realised, tended to fall in either category.

So it resulted in rather lonely lunches most of the time as he underwent training, since it seemed the Shokan office was rather secluded and active shinigami rarely ventured into the main buildings of the Diet. He got used to it fast enough though. At least he didn't have to explain himself so many times how he died and why because Emma knew he didn't kn—

"A yen for your thoughts, Watari-san," came the quiet murmur.

He started, surprised that anyone had even approached. "Tatsumi-san!"

The shinigami inclined his head in a shallow bow, holding his own lunch tray and seemingly oblivious to the startled, and some outright frightened stares from other employees. "May I join you, Watari-san?"

Watari coughed, and red flooded his cheeks. "Please, go ahead."

Tatsumi slid into the opposite bench, blocking him from the rest of the cafeteria and inexplicably, Watari felt a little of the tension he seemed to always carry ratchet down a notch. Almost, he wished he had spent more time on his hair today - untameable waves of pale gold thanks to his American mother that he usually tied back in a loose ponytail was a little more frazzled than usual. He had discovered that chanting the Kuji while doing the Pace of Yu gave very explosive results.

Thank Enma for immortality.

"My apologies that I wasn't able to join you earlier, Watari-san," Tatsumi was saying and the former scientist blinked owlishly.

"Oh, don't worry about it," he hastened to assure the man. "I kinda get that uh...that shinigami tend to be a bit reclusive."

Tatsumi accepted his assurance gracefully, encouraging him to start on his food. "We are; we find it easier that way. As well, our caseload recently has been high." He gave a faint grimace, as if the very notion of too many unsanctioned deaths offended him. It probably did, Watari thought to himself with a silent chuckle. The few times he had met the Shokan secretary had given him the impression of a man who exuded order and calm and woe the one who dared to disturb it.

"I take it Lord Hakushaku isn't very happy about that either?"

The Count of the Castle of Candles looked over the Death registry on behalf of Enma and was the direct supervisor for the Shokan, answering only to Enma Dai-oh. Names that entered the registry had a scheduled time and manner of death. When the names had been registered but the mortal failed to die on schedule, the case was assigned to the reaper overseeing the prefecture the mortal lived in.

"The Count has made his displeasure known, yes." A faint smile twitched Tatsumi's lips and Watari cleared his throat. "We're looking forward to when you'll join us, Watari-san. I know Tsuzuki Asato and Kurosaki Hisoka-san can't wait to meet you."

"Tsuzuki and Kurosaki," he murmured the names, and committed it to memory. The same Tsuzuki who was the Commander of the Divine Twelve? "Uh...is it rude if I ask how old are they?" He had a faint suspicion about shinigami, one that was confirmed at the secretary's answer.

"Tsuzuki is twenty-six years old in mortal years, over seventy including death years. Kurosaki-san is sixteen years old, twenty-six in total. They've been partners for the last ten years and oversee the Kyushu prefecture."

A pang of something he wasn't sure of made his stomach twist. Sadness? Another new employee he had made friends with in his onmyoujitsu classes had told the blond that Shinigami tended to be young and male. Those who died in old age were too weary of living to continue the twilight existence of a god of death, and females were more prone to becoming restless spirits, their unquiet resolved focused on specific people among the living.

"And asking about a Shinigami's age is fine," Tatsumi reassured him. "Asking about how they died though is…"

"A bad idea?" he smiled weakly. He wouldn't know how to answer either, if someone asked him. Hadn't been able to answer, when an instructor did. The memory clogged his throat, the pain of lacerated flesh flayed by magic colder than nitrogen and brought with it agony hotter than black hell flames they had been given a demonstration of just last week. The instructor had immediately apologised.

Tatsumi paused, taking a sip of miso soup to arrange his thoughts. "Depends on the shinigami," he allowed. Watari noticed that the secretary didn't offer an explanation as to how he himself died. Pure curiosity needled him - the man knew how he died after all, had been the one to collect him - but he kept his mouth shut. "I do have news for you though, Watari-san. Your performance so far has been satisfactory and Chikushi-san confirmed that you will be able to graduate by the end of the month. You'll begin your duties at the Shokan on the first and will be assigned to the Henjoucho division. Osaka and Kyoto," he added at Watari's look of confusion. I'll be your temporary partner until we find someone more suitable for you."

"Do I have to have a partner?" Watari blurted out. He had thought he could use the time to investigate….investigate him, find out why a friend he had trusted with his life, had taken it instead. A partner would complicate things, would restrict his movements in the human world.

Tatsumi gave him a stern, but understanding look. "I know your dissatisfaction with the manner of your death, Watari-san. You wouldn't have accepted the offer to become a Shinigami otherwise. But trust in the human justice system, or if all else fails, Lord Enma. Because no mortal can avoid His justice."

"Are you sure? Are you sure no one escapes Enma-sama's judgment?" Watari whispered, fists clenched helplessly.

"I am. All shinigami are required to have partners, to keep us in check for we alone wield the ability to walk between realms. It is a heavy responsibility, Watari-san." A pause and he felt a gentle touch on his bowed head. "If you've changed your mind, Yutaka," Tatsumi continued quietly and Watari twitched in surprise, "I will speak with Konoe-san about your resignation. No one will look badly on you if you do, trust me."

It took him a while to answer, but Tatsumi waited, patient. When he managed to swallow the painful lump in his throat, he gave the secretary a watery smile. "I'll continue, thank you," he answered softly. "I mean...I've learned so much, and I still have more to learn. I can use the time to improve my drawing," he joked.

That drew an answering, genuine grin from Tatsumi. "Then I look forward to working with you, partner."

KEN
One year ago. Osaka, Japan.

Ken shifted minutely in his seat and wished the chair to hell. The cushions were leather, thick and plump and made him feel as if he was forever sinking. It left him feeling helpless, unable to immediately react to any threats or attack and when faced with this man, he wanted to be able to run as fast as he could when he had to.

Because striking the dean of his faculty would probably be in very bad form, considering he wouldn't even be able to answer why he did it in the first place.

There's something wrong this man, why are we here? Why—

"You've been doing well, Uehara-san?"

Professor Itō, when Ken could ignore the chills that crawled down his spine, was undoubtedly good looking. The years were kind to him, the crags and lines lending him a dignity which he carried well with his tailored suits and pocket kerchief always neatly folded. He heard the other professors gossip about how he was too fashionable for a dean, but Ken couldn't deny that plenty more, instructors and students alike, found Itō Daisuke handsome and charming.

It was why only Riku and her father knew how much the man scared him.

Ken paused, biting his lower lip. God yes, the man scared him but hell if he could figure out why.

We know why, the voice whispered in his head. You must listen to me. He's—Ken blinked, puzzled and the memory of that voice disappeared.

"Uehara-san?"

"I'm doing fine." He tried for a smile but it probably came out more of a grimace. The dean didn't seem to care or notice, dark eyes fixed steadily on the nervous young man.

"That's good to hear," the professor murmured. "I knew I was asking a lot from you, with your duties as Orientation leader and the Kansai prefectural kendo championships coming up but you have yet to disappoint me in your diligence and care."

Thank—" he coughed, and Ken wondered why a butterfly of panic fluttered in his stomach at the praise. "Thank you, Professor." The man just had to ask him for a meeting when Riku was in the middle of teaching a class. No matter what she said, he wasn't going to drag his friend out when she had her own responsibilities to perform. But next time, he was going to arrange for a fake emergency he could run to, yeah, that would be an awesome idea if not for the fact that he didn't exactly have any family to create emergencies for.

As if his mind was read, Itō raised a grey eyebrow. "You're still staying by yourself off-campus? Your aunt is not making you stay at home with them?"

Which aunt, he thought, not even surprised anymore at the weary bitterness that coloured it. He had plenty of relatives thanks to quite a few siblings on both his mom and dad's side and had been shuffled from aunt to uncle to aunt since he was eleven. They were all quite glad to see him decide to live on his own when he turned twenty-one and it was clear that Grandfather wouldn't release his trust fund to anyone else.

"Being independent is good for me," he answered noncommittally, hands squeezed tight. If he ever found out who the hell told the dean about his situation, he was going to use them as a kendo dummy but what's done was done. And unfortunately it meant Itō had the perfect excuse to get him to come in practically every month on the pretence of checking on one of the faculty's student leaders.

"You don't need any help? I know Mariko would be more than happy to welcome you to our home—"

"No!" Ken blurted out, and tried to struggle up from the chair. "It's fine, please don't worry about me I am doing great really please—"

"Calm down, Uehara-san," the dean chuckled. "Why, you almost made me think you didn't like me!"

Ken mumbled his protests, and managed to at least push himself to the edge of his seat, the easier to excuse himself as fast as he could. But the professor chose to talk about the class he was going to start teaching next week instead, and resigned, Ken nodded along and prayed that a meteor would strike the office instead.

No such luck, unfortunately.

"...the importance of the Per-Henrik theories to today's physical education and basics of rehabilitation, do you agree, Uehara-san?"

"Yes sir," Ken sighed, eyes trained on the carpet before him and froze when a pair of leather loafers entered his field of vision. He didn't dare look up and could have cursed himself for not realising the professor was going to approach him. He usually used the excuse to shoot straight to his feet, claiming it was rude to sit when his dean was standing but this time, he was caught completely off guard. His heart felt like a hummingbird in his chest, so fast did it beat.

A hand patted his bowed head and Ken strangled the whimper that tried to claw its way out of his throat. Nonononono, the voice was back, panicked but the fear was for him, not the voice itself and that scared Ken and it scared the young man that he didn't know why he was scared.

"I really do worry about you, Uehara-kun." The gentle endearment and the warm caress should have felt comforting. It probably would if it was anyone else - even his own team mates had teased him about how the dean looked on him so favourably. But all Ken could think about was the dread that curdled his stomach as the professor spoke so gently to him, like a father, and how darkness crept in the edges of his vision. "I can see you working so hard all the time and while it is so admirable in one so young, we do worry that you're working too hard."

We? Who exactly was the dean fooling? Ken's breath started coming a little faster, fingernails dug into his thighs instead of lashing out, anything to get the man away from him.

"I hear you're single currently, and not for lack of trying from the rest of the student body." The professor laughed gently and squeezed his shoulder. "Are you….gay, Uehara-san?"

Ken's head shot up, eyes inexplicably caught by the professor's and the blood drained from his face.

"It's fine if you are," Itō said gently, and squeezed him again and God, Ken really wished he would stop doing that because he was going to hyperventilate soon. "KanDai is a progressive university, you know this. And if anyone ever gives you a hard time, we—"

A knock on the door and it swung open. "Professor Itō? I'm—oh, I am so sorry, your secretary wasn't in and I didn't realise you have a visitor."

Ken struggled to his feet and could have wept when Itō's hand fell away. He sketched a hasty bow and hurried out, barely pausing for an apology when he stumbled into the dean's guest who steadied him.

"I'm Utsunomiya Takafumi, Professor - is everything.."

Run!

He didn't pause to hear and ran for his life.

TAKAFUMI

One year ago. Osaka, Japan.

"Utsunomiya-sensei! You're looking well!"

Takafumi felt a warm smile spring up, genuine in its affection as he turned to greet the young woman who had come running up to him. Long, black hair swung forwards as she gave him a deep bow and Takafumi groaned out loud. "Nakashima-san, must you?" He saw a few of the looks sent Nakashima's way and felt the grin twitch a little wider. Someone is obviously popular, he mused and it was easy to see why as the girl threw him a brilliant smile. Nakashima Riku was beautiful in that classic Nadeshiko style. Dark, lustrous hair always neat, flawless skin and impeccable manners, and a sharp mind behind the face that could make any man stupid with want or running in the other direction for fear of her well-aimed, cutting tongue.

Mother would be ecstatic if I marry her.

But she is not our love.

What?

After so many years though, and plenty of experimentation, Takafumi was quite comfortable batting for the other team and if he were to take his brother at face value, which he always did, mother might have finally given up on getting him to settle down with a nice young lady. And good gods he was grateful; because KanDai was shaping up to be quite promising, especially if he could figure out who the young man who ran out of Itō's office earlier was.

"Must I what, sensei?" Riku raised an eyebrow as she fell into step with him.

"Must you call me sensei?" He raised an eyebrow back. "One, we're not at the hospital and two, you're no longer an intern. Also, I'm a student now."

The law major had a summer internship on his brother's legal team last year and the year before; good enough that Takahiro had taken genuine interest in her as a potential future talent for the group. She had inevitably been dragged to all the meetings she could handle, and even a few dinners at the family home where she had proceeded to charm his parents, Chieko, Daisuke and himself. Takafumi had also liked her enough that he started seeking her out at the hospital for lunch or breaks, and she had been the sympathetic ear he turned to when Watanabe dumped him. It sounded nauseatingly pompous even just thinking it, but Takafumi found the fact that she didn't turn into a puddle of goo whenever she talked to him, or tried to sink her claws in to become Mrs Utsunomiya terribly refreshing.

She lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. "Old habits die hard. But…" she gently steered him to one of the many green spaces that dotted the campus grounds, and lifted a hand in distracted acknowledgement to a group of obvious freshmen students who bowed their way past. Takafumi found himself on a bench and sighed in relief. He didn't realise how his back had been aching until he sat down.

"Are you really up to this, sensei?" Riku asked him quietly, concern in her brown eyes. The sounds of a new semester starting surrounded them, a fragile bubble of privacy and Takafumi found himself giving the younger girl a helpless, fond smile. A genuine friend was rare in his experience, not when you were an Utsunomiya and single, and till today he was puzzled how he got lucky enough to call the girl someone he could trust.

"I am completely up to this, as I've said to Takahiro, Chieko, and both of my parents," he assured her, and resisted the urge to tweak her nose. "I also haven't skipped any of my physio sessions, you mother hen. Although I need to find a new physiotherapist here." He cracked his neck and sighed in relief, ignoring Riku's elbow jab. "The one Takahiro arranged for me at Suita Yamate was an ass. And he wanted to get into my pants."

"I thought you'd like that," was Riku's dry quip.

He shot her a look from under hair grown a little too long. "He was twenty years older than me. With a wife and three kids."

Riku let out her own sigh as she sat back. "Are you sure it wasn't just your imagination?" she asked, only mildly hopeful. Only a second son the man might be to a powerful family but the good doctor was popular with the nurses and patients for a good reason. He could charm a screeching rich man's wife into cooing agreeability and soothe a child too terrified to go into surgery into grinning bravery and had the looks that went with it.

And Takafumi proved her suspicion correct. "How exactly is massaging my ass and trying to give me a hand job in any way related to my rehab?"

"Too much information," Riku muttered, a baleful glare thrown his way when he snickered. "But," she nudged him, "Everything else is settled? You got your class schedule and confirmed your thesis supervisor?"

Takafumi nodded, letting his eyes wander as he took in the grounds. KanDai's main campus was large and sprawling, with modern cinder blocks side by side next to red brick turn of the century architecture. It was an odd mix that worked, and the student body so far seemed much less stressed out than ToDai's, one of the reasons why he had decided against the prestigious Tokyo University. "I got Professor Itō Daisuke as my supervisor," he said absently. "Apparently he's doing research on hippocampal function with sub-lethal irradiation and my work on delayed aging will compliment his work. He's getting me to teach anatomy to the undergrads here as well. Does he have a student helper, by the way?" He turned to the woman with a frown. "Some guy was with him earlier, looked like a student although he seemed to be in a hurry to get away."

He didn't miss the way Riku's eyes widened, nor the curse she let out and he swallowed back a chuckle. "I take it you know whom I'm talking about," Takafumi prompted.

Riku sighed, long and hard and raked a hand through her hair. "A couple of inches shorter than you, pretty good-looking and unfortunately, very fit?"

Takafumi blinked. "Yes, yes and I may have felt some nice muscles when he ran into me?" He was a doctor after all, and intimately familiar with the human body. Even that brief brush had told him a lot about the other man and it said that the intriguing stranger was trained in a martial art or dance, since he had excellent control despite looking like he was being chased by wild dogs and managed to catch himself and Takafumi when they had bumped into each other. A mumbled apology and the ashen-faced student had disappeared even before he could ask for a name, and Itō didn't seem keen to talk about the student.

And the guy was good-looking. Completely. He had caught a glimpse of almond-shaped eyes, lips that he really wouldn't mind kissing and cheekbones sharp enough to grate cheese on.

He was beautiful, the voice was back, tone wistful. Beautiful like our love was. Takafumi agreed, no longer surprised when he forgot what it was he agreed with.

"Are you still allergic to physical exertion, Nakashima-chan?" he teased the younger woman, grin growing larger at the dark scowl it got him.

"Call me that again and I'll tell Nurse Sawada it was you that finished all the coffee capsules in the lounge last time and forgot to refill it," Riku threatened. Takafumi raised his hands in surrender with a small laugh. "I just don't like sweating and working out and Ken keeps trying to drag me to the gym," Riku grumbled. "And yes, that was the friend I told you about - Uehara Ken. He knows he's not supposed to see Professor Itō without me, that idiot!"

The doctor started, surprised at the vehemence in the usually calm girl. He did remember an Uehara that she had mentioned once or twice before, the best friend who was a former judo champion in high school and did he recall her mentioning that same friend was deathly allergic to social media and having his picture taken?

He had expected someone short and bulky, as most serious judo players were, but Uehara Ken was tall and lithe instead. Although supposedly the younger man did do kendo as well didn't he? "The uni's kendo team captain, right?" he guessed. "Doing a masters in rehabilitation? Doesn't have Instagram, Facebook, Twitter or Ameblo because of stalkers?"

"Obsessive stalkers," Riku affirmed with a wry twist of her lips. "And yes he does kendo and Kodokai as well - that's a traditional sword school - and too popular for his own good," she admitted glumly. "Professor Itō adores him, as does half the campus, but the dean really—" she snapped her mouth shut and stared at him instead.

"What did I do?"

"You need a new physiotherapist, right?" Riku asked abruptly.

"Yes...that's what I said five minutes ago."

"Ken's thesis is focusing on rehabilitation and restoring partial mobility of paralysed patients, plus he's an accredited physiotherapist," she answered, and Takafumi refused to admit that the narrowed focus the younger girl had on him made the doctor the slightest bit nervous.

"Are you trying to set me up with him?" he frowned. "Not that I'm complaining...he did seem like my type, looks-wise."

"You need a physiotherapist and a love life," Riku said flatly. "And frankly, no one is good enough for Ken. Except, maybe you," she acquiesced gracefully.

"Thank you...I think. You know he might not want to help me," he felt obliged to point out. "From what it sounds like, he's already quite busy."

Riku flapped a hand, dismissing his concerns. "He likes keeping busy. The longer he stays outside and doesn't need to go back home, the better for h—you're doing it again," she glared at the bemused doctor.

"No, seriously, what did I do?"

"It's that bedside manner you have. I keep telling you stuff that I usually don't," she huffed, arms crossed with a reluctant wry grin twitching her lips. "And some of these things only Ken should say. Although, please—" she put up a hand, "Do not share with me any details of your sex life if you do end up having one, especially with Ken. I love him like a brother and I do not want to imagine him having sex."

Takafumi leaned back, arms crossed as well as he nudged her knee. "And here I thought you liked him…" he trailed off. It had seemed that way the few times Riku did talk about her best friend. There was real, genuine fondness in her voice whenever she spoke about Uehara, rare as it was.

The silence that fell between was filled with bright laughter from across the green and just when Takafumi thought he had crossed a line, an apology ready on his lips, Riku answered him, slowly. "I did, like him, that is." She paused, obviously choosing her words with care. "He's a rare breed. But—" she lifted a shoulder affably. "After a while I realised what I had was just a crush and Ken needs more than what I can give him."

Intrigued, because Takafumi trusted the girl's instinct, he nudged her again. "So what does he need, and what makes you think I can give it to him?"

She gave him a look. "Do you honestly think I would make it that easy for you, sensei?"

He huffed out a laugh. "It was worth a shot. Either way, anyone you like is worth my time to get to know, with or without a possible sex life happening."

Faint colour dotted her cheeks but Riku kept her composure. "Anyway," she cleared her throat and got to her feet, a hand offered to Takafumi as he slowly pushed himself up with a groan. "The Kansai Prefectural Championships qualifiers is starting in two months and the team has morning practice every weekday."

He took a quick glance at his phone. "It's half past eight though."

"That means they're going to finish their conditioning session soon," she shrugged and led the way past the library. "Wednesdays is conditioning and basics. Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays are for basics and techniques and Fridays are competition drills."

"You have a disturbing level of knowledge of their schedule, you realise that right?" he pointed out cheerfully.

"It helps knowing it so I know when I need to rescue him," she retorted, hurrying up a short flight of stairs to what a sign pointed out as the university dojo, just behind the library. Already he could hear the faint sounds of shouts from behind closed doors. "Ken's stalkers are a determined bunch and they usually get too scared to approach him if I'm around. And unfortunately, they really like conditioning days."

Takafumi stepped in to the dojo behind Riku, absently toeing off his shoes and giving a quick bow before he entered the space proper and stopped short. "Ah, I can see why."

The why being that particular Uehara Ken leading a group through a series of stretches. The younger man was all lean lines and defined musculature; years of hard work, the doctor appreciated, and strict discipline. Uehara didn't even glance at them, focused on leading his team through a set of cool down movements and the more clinical part of Takafumi's mildly infatuated brain noted his obvious skill and familiarity with approval. Uehara made sure to stop his own stretching to correct a teammate's poor form, guiding with patience despite being sweat-drenched himself. It was, he thought distantly as Riku led him to a few older men watching the practice who had to be the team's senseis, terribly lucky for him that Uehara Ken was exactly the type that he liked.

He is beautiful, the voice agreed, awe in its tone which Takafumi could totally agree with. Is he our love?

"...needs a physiotherapist and I recommended Uehara-kun, Hamaguchi-sensei," Riku finished quietly, gesturing to Takafumi and he hurriedly bowed, offering apologies for intruding.

"It'll do him good," Hamaguchi noted, gruff but not unkind as he nodded at Takafumi. "He's told me he hasn't managed to get in some good practical yet for his thesis."

The other two sensei agreed. "He's distracted today, did you notice?" said the one who introduced himself as Kawaguchi.

"Aa. He's not getting sick, is he, Riku-chan?" Takeda, the shorter sensei among the three frowned. "We need him for qualifiers and prefecturals but I rather he not sacrifice his health for it. His fifth dan grading is coming up as well."

Takafumi made a mental note to ask Riku later why that sensei got to call her -chan but he got death threats in return. He barely heard the girl's reply to Takeda though because Uehara chose that moment to strip off his drenched top and Takafumi thanked himself fervently for choosing KanDai.

God bless kendo, he thought, experience keeping his face in a pleasant smile and not instead, dialing up his brother to tell him he was never coming back to the hospital. While the rest of the team broke off to do their own final cool down, Uehara approached another guy, heads bent low together before the team captain knelt and squeezed the guy's calf. Takafumi cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed as he studied the object of Riku's new plotting. Checking for muscle soreness, the doctor decided, seeing how Uehara palpated the calf and got his teammate to sit down and stretch his leg out.

Oh, be still my heart, he sighed silently. The younger man did his examination with professional skill, which lent credence to Riku's assertion that he was an accredited physiotherapist. Not that he doubted the woman, but she could be mildly biased.

Finished, Uehara lent a hand up to his teammate and shouted for attention. "Dry down, change and we'll begin practice in fifteen minutes!"

"Yes, captain!"

Uehara spotted their group then, and hurriedly jogged over. "Takeda-sensei, I've asked Tosaka to sit out training today. He complained about his calf and I don't think he should continue."

Takeda waved his agreement. "Good, let's not take chances when the All Japan qualifiers is just eight weeks away. Uehara-kun, Riku-chan says this young man here is looking for a physiotherapist and wanted to recommend you. Are you up to it?"

A look passed between Uehara and Riku, something he couldn't decipher but it did result in Uehara bowing low to him as Riku introduced him. "This is Dr. Utsunomiya Takafumi, Ken, from the hospital I interned at. Utsunomiya-sensei is doing his second Masters here at KanDai but he needs a therapist to help with his rehab while he's here."

"Ah, Utsunomiya-sensei," Uehara quirked a small grin at Takafumi's return bow. "Riku talks about you a lot. I'm glad to see you-" he paused, a frown on his face. "Have we met...oh my God." Chocolate-dark eyes widened and Takafumi was rewarded with a tide of red that flooded across Uehara's nose and cheeks that caused a little flutter in his stomach.

The voice whispered insistently in his head, a background litany he could barely make out; our love our love is it our love?

Shit, was he already developing a crush?

"You're the one I ran into at Ito-sensei's office! I am so sorry!"

Takafumi laughed it off. "Please don't worry about it. I'm sorry to be troubling you like this, but Riku highly recommended you and I do tend to trust her judgment. Are you alright though?" he asked in concern. "You didn't seem well then."

Uehara and Riku exchanged another look and Takafumi made a mental promise to grill the details out of the girl later. "It's nothing," Uehara said, clearly uncomfortable and the doctor gracefully dropped the questioning, unlike Kawaguchi though, who frowned harder.

"Uehara-kun, is Ito troubling you? Bad enough he's loading your schedule without checking with Takeda-sensei, if he's giving you additional trouble..."

"No, he's not!" Takafumi watched the younger man deny any problems with interest. Uehara was clearly not telling the whole truth but he couldn't be a terrible liar if the kendo senseis were accepting his story, as the three of them nodded. But maybe it was that bedside manner Riku accused him of having because to the doctor's experienced eye, Uehara was holding back quite a few things.

But, he sighed, it wasn't his place to grill him. Not yet anyway, he amended with a grin and something caught his eye. "Er, Uehara-san? I thought you told Tosaka-san to sit out practice?" Because the same guy whom Uehara had been concerned about was in full kendo gear and doing some rapid swings with a shinai, the bamboo sword whistling through the air. He wouldn't have intervened - it wasn't his place to - but he couldn't ignore it when he was aware the man might have a medical issue.

A heavy sigh confirmed his guess. "Tosaka, wh-shit!" Uehara sprinted to the fallen player, Takafumi right behind him.

He barely heard one of the sensei snapping instructions for the rest of the kendo players to give them space. Uehara had carefully removed his teammate's armour, a thanks murmured to a girl who quietly took them off of his hands. Tosaka was white, teeth clenched in pain but he nodded when Uehara asked him if it was his calf. "Felt something snap," Tosaka gritted out and Uehara exchanged a look with Takafumi.

The doctor inclined his head. "Thompson?"

"Thompson," Uehara agreed and together they turned Tosaka over. Uehara gently squeezed the left calf and frowned heavily when the foot failed to flex. "Damn," he sighed. The rest of the Thompson test he carried out made the frown deeper which didn't clear when he asked Takafumi to confirm and the doctor agreed with his unspoken assessment.

"Snapped Achilles," Takafumi concurred. "He'll need a hospital for a full check and surgery."

"Sorry, captain," Tosaka clenched his fists, forehead on the floor. "Should have listened to you."

"What's done is done," Uehara patted his back. "Let's get you to the hospital, alright?"

In short order, the kendo captain got transportation arranged ("Maa, I'll drive him," Takeda shrugged. "It'll give me time to lecture him for being stubborn."), another player to accompany them and himself accepting Hamaguchi's admonishment that he had to focus on their practice and that Tosaka didn't need him mother-henning when it was Tosaka's own fault for being foolish.

Takafumi watched it all unfold with a small smile on his face, still on his knees and only Riku caught the oddity.

"Sensei?" she frowned.

"Ah, I can't get up," he admitted with a sheepish grin and it wasn't a ploy to get Uehara's attention, much as he would have liked it. He could feel the muscles of his lower back twisting something fierce, no doubt unhappy with him for the sudden action.

Getting Uehara's concern focused on him though, was a definite bonus never mind that he could feel his legs going numb. Riku was quickly explaining his situation to the others while Uehara placed a gentle hand on his back and called for an ice pack.

"I'm sorry." Distracted by the shouts as practice went on around them, it took a while for Takafumi to realise Uehara was talking to him.

"Hm? Whatever for?" he frowned. The cramp was a steady pain, but manageable if not for how he didn't think his legs could hold him up.

"You probably stressed your back running like that earlier, and the impact against the floor." Uehara didn't meet his eyes, taking instead the wrapped ice pack from the same girl who had helped earlier. "Thank you, Maeda-san. Help lead their practice please? Nothing fancy, just the basics and renzoku waza."

"Yes, captain." The girl bowed briefly, gave Takafumi a smile and a wish for him to get better soon and it was just them, Riku by his side.

Takafumi nudged the other man's shoulder, and didn't let himself wince when Uehara placed the cold pack against his back. "Are you going to apologise too, for your Tosaka being a stubborn id—ah, stubborn?" His grin grew wider at the look Uehara gave him.

Uehara sighed. "Still. You came to ask me for help and you end up hurt. Not such a great testimony, is it."

"I don't know," he bantered back easily. "I saw how you acted without hesitation when someone got injured, assessed the situation calmly to determine your next step and applied the appropriate actions. I'd say that's the kind of physiotherapist I'd like to work with, and maybe someone I wouldn't mind getting to know better."

Our love was kind too, so kind, the voice said, mournful. So much kindness until hatred tore us apart. But we were wronged and we wronged each other and now we know, now we know. Is he our love?

A slow blink, lashes thick and heavy and Takafumi tried to not let his grin grow to idiotic proportions.

"Riku said you could be pretty smooth when you want to," Uehara snorted.

"Like butter on a baby's bottom," he agreed readily. "How about this? We go out for drinks after classes, say around six? You, me and Riku. We get to know each other better, Riku gets to chaperone us and make sure everyone behaves and we decide whether we want to do this. My condition is not life-threatening," he gestured at himself, and gladly accepted Uehara's help to get to his feet slowly. "But it can be annoying."

He blew out a sigh, gingerly tested his weight and relieved to find his legs able to hold him up. "Who knows, you might not want me as a client after you've heard how horrible my jokes are," he added, straight-faced.

He was rewarded with a laugh that was quickly muffled; Uehara shot his coach a guilty look when the sound caught Hamaguchi's attention. Riku, just behind Uehara's shoulder, mouthed silently, "Smooth, very smooth," and mimed throwing up.

"Alright, six it is," Uehara smiled, and nodded his thanks to Riku when she hooked an arm around Takafumi's elbow and promised to see the sensei safely to classes. "Riku-chan? Library steps?"

"Library steps. And the next time you see Professor Ito without me, again, I will make you regret ever knowing me," she finished pleasantly.

A wince and another laugh, Uehara waved them goodbye and Takafumi sighed, seeing the bare back walk away from him.

"It's only eight hours until six p.m., sensei," Riku murmured.

"Ah, eight hours of loneliness, how will my heart take it?"

Her muffled laugh accompanied them all the way out of the dojo.

To be continued