Chapter 4 - Reasons
The teams had less than four days to prepare for the finals and Atobe was nowhere to be found. This development was slightly amusing for Yukimura, but it was not enough to detract from the sense of betrayal he was feeling. He was still in disbelief that Shiraishi had agreed to fight the absolute arrogant lunatic that was Atobe Keigo to prove that he was worthy enough to be his boyfriend. As charming as that might sound on paper, Yukimura was not someone's daughter being protected by her father. He was just someone caught in the crosshairs of another's misguided feelings of affection. He was certain that he hated Atobe with every fiber of his being. No one was sane enough to fall for such a pompous asshole. How could anyone stand him? It was beyond his comprehension.
Practice for Rikkai had ended hours ago, but Yukimura was still on the courts with Sanada, refining their techniques. Neither of them needed to do this, but Sanada had developed a bad habit of overdoing everything after the U-17 camp and Yukimura was just there because he still wasn't over him. The strict vice-captain's senses have been stolen over and over again that the both of them had lost count already and, yet, he still hadn't conceded to his exhaustion. It was admirable, but foolish for Sanada to exert himself this much. Rikkai was going to win regardless. Hyoutei stood no chance, considering they had no outstanding players outside of their first years and Rikkai had a player on their team that could easily outclass any of them. Their fluke win at the Regionals was mostly due to Rikkai catching the flu that was going around at the time, causing most of them to play in suboptimal conditions. That was just the reality of the situation.
Yukimura felt awful about pining over Sanada, especially when he was technically in a relationship with someone else and should only be thinking about them instead. He felt scummy as he let one of his returns fly past him. His rallying partner had no clue what was going on and continued to swing his racket around with conviction that he would return whatever shot came his way. Yukimura just stood there and watched him slowly regain his senses as he felt the pain in his chest grow more and more unbearable. He wanted to run up to him and steal his first kiss before Sanada regained his sense of touch so badly. These perversions were hard to shake off, but his crippling fear of losing him was enough to prevent him from doing anything rash.
When Sanada regained his ability to see what was in front of him, his scowl deepened. "Yukimura, why did you stop?"
"Don't you think you've had enough for one day, Sanada?" he lied.
He huffed. "Nonsense. It's never enough. I swear on my life that I will defeat you one day."
Yukimura smiled sadly. "You can defeat me, Sanada. This is enough for one day. You know your body needs rest and proper nutrients as well, otherwise, all of this would be for nothing."
"Perhaps you might be right," he admitted.
The two walked over to the bench area where they left their bags. Yukimura tossed him a towel as he picked up his water bottle and drank all of its ice-cold contents. "My mother is making sukiyaki tonight if you want to come over for dinner."
Sanada finished wiping away his sweat and draped the towel around his neck. "That will not be necessary, but thank you for the offer."
He knew what the answer was before he even asked, but just hearing the rejection hurt him deeply. "Next time, then."
The two packed up their belongings in silence. Sanada slung his bag over his shoulder and waited for Yukimura to finish. "Do you need me to walk you to the station today?"
He nodded. "I was thinking of changing our starting lineup for the match."
There was a slight panic beginning to set in on Sanada's face as they exited the courts and headed to the train station. "Why?"
"I'm not interested in playing Singles 1."
"Is it because you lost to Atobe back at the Regionals? You know that was because you were-"
"I can beat that prick any day of the week, Sanada. I'm just tired of playing against him all the time," he said, cutting him off before he could finish. "Tennis is all about playing a variety of players in a variety of settings, right? I can't always be the only person playing Singles 1. I don't even get to play most of the time because the rest of you steamroll the competition before we even get to that part."
"What are you suggesting? You are the only one of us who can go toe-to-toe with him."
A devious grin grew on his lips. "We keep Niou and Yagyuu as Doubles 2, switch Marui from Singles 3 to 2 and move Renji from Doubles 1 to Singles 3 instead."
"Are you out of your mind, Yukimura?!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "Who the hell is going to play Doubles 1 with Mouri-senpai if it's not Renji?!"
"Me," he responded plainly.
"I refuse to allow you to do this, Yukimura. You haven't played a doubles game since the group stages of the World Cup!"
"All the more reason to give it a try now," he mused.
Sanada wasn't even angry anymore. He was just worried. "Yukimura, this is the finals of our very first high school nationals. Why now? And with him especially."
"Because we're the invincible Rikkai. Let's show everyone that we can win, even with an unconventional lineup." He began to skip ahead towards the station entrance. "Who knows? Maybe my tennis can resonate with Drink Fairy Senpai's like it did with Tokugawa-san's."
His vice captain sighed. He knew that his protesting would be futile since Yukimura could easily override his decisions and change the lineup at will. "And, just who will be replacing you for Singles 1?"
"Who else could it be except for you, Sanada? Jackal's been favouring his right foot all practice long today. There's no way I can make him play against Atobe."
"Is this truly what you want?"
Yukimura nodded. "I don't expect a repeat of Kanto. We will crush Hyoutei in straight sets."
"Alright," he sighed as he reached into his pocket to pull out his transit pass. "Make sure to call Renji first before you submit it, even if he already predicted that this would happen."
Yukimura chuckled as he took out his phone and saw the stifling number of missed calls from their willowy strategist. "It seems like he's beaten me to it."
As they reached the gates, a familiar face stumbled out before they could tap in. Shiraishi now stood in front of both of them, which confused Sanada, but worried Yukimura.
"Makinofuji's Shiraishi? What the hell are you doing here?" Sanada inquired.
The sheepish boy waved at them both. "I wanted to speak with Yukimura. Yanagi-san said that you two would be here, so I took my chances," he laughed nervously.
Sanada's scowl didn't seem convinced as he turned to look at his captain. "Do you want me to wait for you?"
"No, no. Go ahead. This might take a while, Sanada," Yukimura reassured.
"I will take my leave then," he bowed slightly at the both of them before tapping through the gates.
"Make sure you eat enough protein when you get home! Your muscles need to rebuild," Shiraishi called out as the capped boy disappeared into the station.
Yukimura's pleasant demeanour began to sour slightly. "Kuranosuke, why are you here?"
"I wanted to apologize," he began. "I'm sorry I let Atobe get in my head. I didn't know he was lying to me."
"Why does everyone believe everything that comes out of that ape's mouth? He's a conniving little-"
Shiraishi instinctively moved his hand up to cover Yukimura's mouth before he said something less befitting of his graceful character. "While I admit he exploited my insecurities, what was I supposed to do? I never knew you and him were a thing before this."
The feminine-looking boy moved his calloused hand away from his mouth. "One: we were never a thing—and two: I will never date him. He is absolutely insufferable as a person and I do not—and will never—like him."
"So, when he said you slept with him before..."
"Why the hell would I do something so stupid?" Yukimura lied. "Me? Sleep with him? In his own wet dreams."
Shiraishi suddenly wrapped his bulky arms around Yukimura's thin build. He buried his teary eyes into his broad shoulder. "I-I'm glad."
"K-Kuranosuke..."
"I was so worried that the one you were in love with was him," he sniffled. "I didn't want to lose to someone like him."
Yukimura's tense muscles began to relax in Shiraishi's arms. "We really need to work on managing your anxieties," he joked. "I'm already doing so much better by being with you."
Shiraishi raised his head and locked his watery brown eyes onto Yukimura's. "Do you really mean that?"
Yukimura planted a light kiss on his supple lips. "Does that answer your question?"
He blushed slightly as he nodded his head with glee. "Yukimura!"
"Speaking of my name, aren't you being a bit too formal, given our current relationship?"
"O-oh! W-what would you l-like m-me to call you?" he stammered.
"Would you like to discuss it over dinner? My mother is making sukiyaki tonight."
While Shiraishi worked on calling Yukimura by something less formal over an impromptu dinner invitation, Atobe was, again, trying to seduce his not-a-friend tennis rival. Tezuka was even less amused, since he knew the National finals were just days away and the excessively prideful leader of Hyoutei should not take his opponents lightly. He was also busy getting ready to head to Flushing Meadows and did not need Atobe around to get in the way. When the boy appeared at his training facility, radiating with bishie sparkles and roses, he wanted to crawl into a hole and perish from the second-hand embarrassment. Fortunately for him, the only other person with him was QP—and he did not pick up on whatever social cues were being thrown around.
"Rikkai's team is no joke, Atobe. You should be practicing," the bespectacled boy sighed.
"Well, it appears that I have come to the right place to practice, then," he stated matter-of-factly as he set his bag down. "Good day to you, QP," he greeted Tezuka's expressionless and extremely ambiguous-looking teammate in his native tongue.
"Kunimitsu, what is your friend doing here?" he asked.
"He is not my friend," he replied as he shot a dirty look at the man with the room-filling ego. "Atobe, seriously. It is not the best time right now."
"After I bought you dinner and everything? My, you are a cold one, Kunimitsu," Atobe interjected, stunning both Tezuka and QP with how native-sounding his German was. "Do you really think I would waste my time to come out to Germany less than four days before I'm supposed to win the national title? I came here to learn from the man who defeated Yukimura Seiichi and lived to tell the tale."
Tezuka raised an eyebrow. "I do not see why you need to come to me for advice. I may have defeated Yukimura once, but he could have bested me just as easily."
Atobe smirked as he shook his head in disbelief. "How can you be so humble, yet so arrogant?"
He sighed as he lowered his glasses to rub his eyes. "If I tell you what you want to hear, will you leave quietly?"
"I do not just leave quietly, Tezuka," the conceited man smirked. "Play against me. You and him."
"A 2-on-1? You must be joking."
"Well? Care to humour my request?" he turned to ask QP. "You and him versus me."
"I wouldn't even need to use more than a quarter of my strength to defeat you," QP responded bluntly.
Just as Atobe's wonderfully stupid plan was being shot down, Siegmund Pupke—the president of a major German pharmaceuticals company and the coach of the German U-17, strolled into the building's lobby. His howling laughter immediately pushed out the ego that used to occupy the space as he had an engaging conversation on his phone.
"I will let him know, then. You take care now," he smiled as he hung up. "Kunimitsu! Just the man I needed to see."
"Good day, sir," Tezuka greeted in a stiff manner.
"I have some potential sponsors coming here in a bit. They would like to see you play for them before they make a decision," he informed the young boy. "QP will play against you."
"With all due respect, Coach, I am not the best opponent if you wish to show off Kunimitsu's strength and talents," QP pointed out. "But, Kunimitsu's friend over there would be perfect," he suggested as he pointed over at Atobe.
Pupke turned his head to look at the out-of-place foreigner. He couldn't remember where he had seen him before nor did he remember much else. "Can he play?"
"I was on the Japanese U-17," Atobe snapped. "If you will allow me, I will put on an excellent show for you and your sponsors, President Pupke."
"Atobe, do not get involved," Tezuka warned.
"Ahn? Are you admitting that you are not stronger than me, Tezuka?" he taunted.
"It's settled, then!" the old company president nodded. "Half an hour should be sufficient for you two to get ready, correct?"
"Plenty of time," was Atobe's reply. "Lead the way, Tezuka."
QP couldn't tell what his teammate was saying under his breath, but he could infer that the words were very out-of-character for someone as proper as Tezuka to be saying. Asides from the inaudible profanities, the brief walk to the locker room was quiet. Tezuka was visibly annoyed by the sudden request and even more peeved that Atobe was getting what he wanted yet again. The moment they stepped foot into the locker room, he wasted no time heading straight for his locker. He began to strip off his clothes to get into his tennis kit. Atobe just stood there and stared at him, getting entranced by the chiseled abdomen and well-defined trapezius on Tezuka's back. Coupled with the displeased expression hiding behind his glasses, it was enough to turn on anyone who was staring as intently as Atobe was.
"How long do you plan on standing there for, Atobe?" he sighed.
"As long as I need to," he smirked.
Tezuka rolled his eyes before shutting his locker and leaving, allowing the hopeless romantic to gawk at his very pleasing behind.
Atobe let out a frustrated sigh as he tried to calm himself down. The bulge in his pants was a problem he could not ignore, but he had nowhere to hide. The distraction that was causing his issue was waiting for him to get his egotistical and persistent ass out of the room.
"God, Tezuka... Why do you make me like this?"
By the time he had "resolved" his problem, the investors that had come to watch the former Seigaku captain in action had already gathered in the viewing gallery above the training court. Tezuka was standing on one side of the court, arms folded across his chest and foot tapping on the hard surface. He wasn't even trying to be so damn attractive, but Atobe could not help but stare at Tezuka in his most alluring state of existence.
"Ready to begin?" the bespectacled boy asked with a slight hint of annoyance behind his voice.
Atobe scoffed. "Born ready, my love."
Tezuka wasted no time playing casually and hit his infamous Zero Shiki Serve to steal the first point. Knowing how to counter it, Atobe scraped the surface of the court with the side of his racket and sent the second serve back, only for it to be countered by his Phantom. The first game ended rather quickly in Tezuka's favour.
"Terrifying, as per usual."
"Don't get careless, Atobe."
"I was about to say the same to you!" he shouted with glee as he successfully hit his Tannhauser Serve. "You want to go all out, Tezuka? I've been waiting for this day since the World Cup semis."
Tezuka did not respond to Atobe's attempt to provoke him. Instead, he took his position to receive the next serve.
"Still going easy on me after all this time? Don't give me that shit, Tezuka!"
Just as Atobe served the next point, a blinding flash of light engulfed the area, causing him to shut his eyes to protect them. By the time he reopened them, the ball had rolled past his feet and the man standing on the opposite side of the court was shining more brilliantly than the harsh fluorescent lights in the ceiling.
The arrogant boy laughed maniacally. "Tezuka, you bastard. Who knew you were capable of being a show-off as well?"
"Your serve, Atobe," he responded with a slight veil of malice.
The rest of the game went as poorly as one would expect for Atobe. He had played Tezuka countless times, but playing Tezuka when he was in his Teni Muhou no Kiwami state was something else entirely. There was something petrifying about this "light of pride" that he couldn't quite explain. Atobe was desperately trying to surpass the radiance of Tezuka's playstyle, but fell short every point that was stolen from him.
"Is this what Yukimura felt when he played against that brat at the Nationals and him during the World Cup?" he thought as he ran from one side of the court to the next to return the ball. "Teni Muhou no Kiwami truly is terrifying..."
His stoic and unwavering opponent made him dance around the court with every shot he made. Being able to control the ball's spin and location at will was something truly mesmerizing to behold. Playing a match against Tezuka Kunimitsu the way he was now was worse than succumbing to the yips. The way he was now was inhuman and the scarier part was that this wasn't even his true form. Atobe was left quivering in his own skin as he was handed a crushing defeat.
"If you truly believe that you can defeat Yukimura Seiichi in the state that you are in right now, you are sorely mistaken," his inner voice taunted him.
His world gradually began to grow silent as he watched the monster standing before him approach a small crowd of old-looking, but smiling European businessmen. The celebratory sounds around him were being drowned out by the little seed of insecurity that was growing within his heart. He slowly inched his way back towards the locker room in a silent stupor as he began to reflect on himself for the first time in what seemed like his entire life. He had been made to look like a fool countless times, but he was always able to get even until now. In his current state now and with the exponential growth of those around him, he wondered if it was even worth it to continue walking down the pre-planned path laid before him.
His mind began to fill with thoughts of inadequacy—a feeling he wasn't even sure he had felt before. The image of the Atobe Keigo that everyone else saw was slowly beginning to crack and fall apart. Of course it had to be Tezuka Kunimitsu to undo everything he had built, he thought. Of course he had to fall in love with someone as perfect as him. The more his thoughts began to center around the young professional, the bigger his earlier "problem" got. He couldn't hold it in anymore and walked into the private showers, sweaty clothes still sticking to his body. He turned on the shower head and prayed that the sound of the water was enough to drown out the sound of him bashing his head repeatedly into the walls. The freezing cold water inconspicuously carried the blood dripping down from his forehead into the drain.
"I'm never going to win against you in anything, am I..."
His tired and worn out body slumped to the ground as he pressed his hand into the wound on his forehead to get the bleeding to clot itself. His other hand wandered down into his shorts and made quick work of liberating himself from his less-than-savoury thoughts. His breathing quickened as he reached a mind-clearing climax until he felt nothing but the cold droplets of water hitting his pale skin. His head felt light and heavy at the same time. The crimson red that stained his clothes began to fade away slowly along with all of the years of defiance and resentment about his predetermined destiny.
The next thing he knew, Tezuka was standing over him, desperately trying to shake him awake. There was a vague sense of worry on his very stoic face. He was lying on his back on the towel-lined floor of the locker room.
"Atobe!" he called out. "Are you alright?"
He couldn't tell if it was a dream or his reality, but he slowly sat up with Tezuka supporting him from behind. He reached his hand up to touch his head, only to realize that it was bandaged up—likely by the boy right beside him. Even his left eye was covered by the hasty first aid job. His clothes were still wet and his body was shivering from the cool draft of the air-conditioning vents blowing a mild breeze onto him.
"You should have said something about your injury, Atobe," the bespectacled boy scolded.
Tezuka did not seem to realize that the wound was self-inflicted, which Atobe was eternally grateful for.
"Ahn? What fun would that be if you went easy on me?" he responded in his usual egotistical tone.
"If you've figured it out, then please change out of those clothes and I will take you to see a doctor."
"Always the overbearing father figure, aren't you?" he joked. "Very well," he stated as he began to take off his soaking wet tennis kit and back into the clothes he came in.
Atobe realized that he didn't care if his own demented mind was dreaming. For a brief moment in timespace, Tezuka Kunimitsu was worried about him. He didn't leave his side for a single second and Atobe took advantage of every moment he could. He rested his head on Tezuka's broad shoulders on the ride to the hospital. He used his sturdy frame to support himself as they walked in. He faked being confused so that the non-talkative boy would be forced to be his personal translator. Deep down, he knew it was wrong, but it felt so good to manipulate Tezuka into doing what he wanted.
After seeing the doctor and getting confirmation that his secretly self-inflicted head injury did not fracture his skull nor cause any further damage, Atobe summoned one of his many chauffeurs and whisked the both of them to a simple, yet expensive, café in the middle of the city. Though it was relatively late into the evening, they sat across from each other at a small window-side table with two cups of piping hot black coffee. At this point, whatever annoyances Tezuka had towards Atobe had faded.
"Are you here to just play around or mess with me, Atobe?" he asked.
"Neither, but if that's how you feel about it, then feel free to think so," was the response.
"Does the national title mean nothing to you?"
"Not in the slightest," he lied.
"Then, why do you even play? You're making a joke of this sport if you're not giving it your all," Tezuka wondered.
"You couldn't possibly understand why I do this, Tezuka," he snapped.
"Of course I do not understand. You are not the type to make your intentions clear. I would like to know why."
"My intentions are clear. You just think—" Atobe stopped himself from finishing the rest of his thoughts.
"I just 'think' what, Atobe?"
"Nevermind," he answered coldly, signaling that he wanted to end the conversation here.
Tezuka reached over the table and placed his hand on top of Atobe's. "If it is bothering you, then perhaps saying something will make you feel better."
"Tezuka..."
If this was any generic love story, Atobe would've lunged over the table and locked his lips with his stoic and unsuspecting love interest. Instead, he was fighting back his own frustrations as he bit his lip.
"Atobe?"
"God, Tezuka. Stop saying my name in that fucking seductive voice," he thought as he stared into his dark brown eyes. "You could not possibly understand the pressures I exist under."
"Try me."
He let out a sigh. "You know, this tournament will be the last time I ever play."
"Why is that?"
"Unlike you, my life has been planned out the moment my parents wed."
"Is that what you want?"
"No, but what can I do about it? I'm the heir to a major multinational securities conglomerate."
Tezuka leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "This is not like the Atobe I know."
"What was that?" Atobe picked up his cup and sipped some of the bitter drink.
"The Atobe Keigo I know would never let someone define his life. He would viciously fight back and carve his own path."
The usually prideful man wanted to spit out the hot coffee in his mouth as he tried to stifle his laugh. He gulped down the contents before setting the cup down on the saucer with a loud clunk. "Is that what you think of me, Tezuka?"
The man sitting across from him pushed his glasses up his nose. "One of the things, yes."
"Pray tell what else you think of me," he cooed.
Tezuka coughed. He picked up his cup and drank the now-lukewarm liquid.
"So, you're being bashful now, Tezuka? How cute," he taunted.
"Have you figured out an answer to your problem yet?"
"Hm? What on earth are you talking about?"
"Why did you come here, then?"
His head began to spin as he tried to recall why he made such a rash, last minute venture to the other side of the globe. As much as he would like to believe he came solely to try and win over a straight boy's heart, there was another reason he was forgetting, but his body instantly remembered and began to tremble.
"Atobe? Are you alright?"
"F-fine. J-just c-cold," he said through his chattering teeth. "I still have to figure out how to take that bastard Child of God out for good," his mind was cursing.
Tezuka unzipped his jacket and handed it over to the shivering boy. "You need this more than I do."
He did not protest as he accepted it and draped it over his shoulders, much like a certain someone he despised. "T-thanks." His heart was aflutter at the kind, but platonic, gesture.
"Do you truly wish to defeat Yukimura-san?"
"I do," he reaffirmed. "I may have defeated him once, but he was not playing to his full potential. I want to prove that I can defeat him at his best."
"With that attitude, you will never defeat that monster."
"Why do you say that?"
"Yukimura Seiichi can only be defeated if your love for tennis is stronger than his desire to win."
It was at that moment that something within his very hormonal brain clicked. The only times Yukimura had ever lost in an official match was against someone whose radiance overwhelmed his ability to plunge them into darkness. The only reason he was able to overcome the yips the first time he played against him was due to his own arrogance, rather than his love for the sport. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't actually like playing tennis for the sake of playing tennis anymore. He was only in it for two things and two things only: to say he's the best at everything he does and winning over Tezuka Kunimitsu's cold heart. Atobe had already proven himself as one of the best players under the age of seventeen on the world stage. Unfortunately, the other thing he was in it for would never actually happen in the timeline they were currently in.
There was a weariness behind his usual smirk. "You are absolutely right, Kunimitsu."
"Do not use my name so casually as if we are friends, Atobe." Tezuka took out his phone to check the time. "I need to head back."
"I'll get my driver to drop you off, then."
The two boys climbed into the back of the car and drove off towards Tezuka's residence. The ride there was silent as the exhaustion from their earlier game began to set in. By the time they had reached their destination, Atobe was sound asleep, head resting on Tezuka's previously injured shoulder. The bespectacled boy sighed as he gingerly lifted the other boy's head off of him and lowered it onto the spot he was sitting. He did not bother to take back his jacket, which was now acting as a makeshift blanket. He uttered a small 'thank you' to Atobe's chauffeur before gently closing the car door and making his way into the building.
After a lively dinner with his family, Yukimura took Shiraishi out for a leisurely stroll around his suburban hellscape of a neighbourhood. While it was nice to unwind a little, he mainly did it to escape his nosy family before one of them spilled the beans. Dropping the 'I'm not exactly straight' bombshell this close to the final of the Nationals was not something he wanted to do. His overly-friendly mother really knew how to butter up anyone he brought over and coax out any information she wanted from them. Shiraishi would have let the cat out of the bag if it weren't for Yukimura's younger sister interrupting every moment she could.
Now that they were sufficiently far enough from his home, he felt the tension in his body loosen. Shiraishi couldn't help but admire Yukimura's blissful new expression as he interlaced the fingers of his bandaged hand with the slender and graceful ones beside him.
"You seemed relieved, Sei-chan."
"You survived a dinner with my mother berating you about every fiber of your being and without revealing what's really going on," the azure-eyed boy chuckled. "Colour me impressed."
His face started turning a nice pickled plum shade. "I-Is it really that impressive?"
"Of course. Sanada couldn't even last a minute without cracking." Yukimura immediately realized what he just did and covered his mouth with his hand.
"Sanada?"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to compare you like that—"
"No, no, it's fine!" Shiraishi interjected. "It makes me happy to know that I can beat your insane team at something."
Yukimura couldn't help but snicker. "Truly?"
"W-well, it's not like I can really defeat anyone on your team in my current state," he admitted. "I'm just not that good at tennis."
"There you go again with your negativity, Kuranosuke," he scolded. "Being able to play a perfect game and having a rock-solid understanding of the basics is something most players could never dream of achieving."
"You say that, but coming from someone who can literally steal away his opponent's senses with how perfect he plays..." His voice trailed off as he tried to fight back his frustrations and disappointments. "I spent so many years working on what I thought was 'perfect', but even Tanegashima-senpai and Kimi-sama said that there was much more to be desired. I just..."
"You're being too hard on yourself. Your failures don't define you."
"But, they do! I was the captain of Shitenhouji for two years and I couldn't get us past the semifinals of the Nationals either year. I was the one who had to create the training menus for everyone, but I don't even know if they were the right routines that met all of their needs!"
"Kuranosuke—"
"Even now... Did I make the right choice? Am I good enough to be on this team? Do I deserve—"
At his wit's end, Yukimura grabbed Shiraishi by the collar and fiercely pressed his lips onto his just to shut him up. The sudden action was enough to stop any further tangents from Shiraishi, as his voice immediately died in his throat. They stayed in this position until Yukimura was sure that nothing stupid would come out of his mouth.
"Please, Kuranosuke... Just stop beating yourself up..." he whispered as he buried his face into his chest. "You do deserve to be where you are. Do not doubt that—even for a second."
"Sei-chan..."
"I don't want to hear anything stupid come out of your mouth, Kuranosuke," he threatened in a nonchalant tone.
"Does 'I love you' count?" he jokingly asked after a brief silence.
"Perhaps," Yukimura answered as he gave him a light peck on the lips once again.
As they returned to their walk, the azure-eyed Child of God was not expecting to see a mildly frazzled Yanagi Renji walking towards them. He immediately let go of Shiraishi's hand as the blush on both of their cheeks deepened.
"Renji! What are you doing out at this hour?" Yukimura inquired, trying to dissipate the awkwardness that was beginning to grow.
"Why do you want to switch the lineup for the finals this close to the day?" the data master retorted, skipping over all of the small talk.
Shiraishi was equally worried and confused. "Are you not going to play Singles 1, Yukimura-kun?"
He shook his head. "We can still win, Renji. Believe me—I've studied your data on Hyoutei and I'm fairly certain that my proposed changes will not affect the outcome one bit."
"Seiichi, you have never played doubles with Mouri-senpai once and he does not trust you," Yanagi recalled. "He will not play to his strengths if he cannot trust his partner."
"Is this about his weird 'I can dislocate my shoulders at will' ability? I doubt he'll need to use that."
The ashy blonde looked mortified, even though he's seen this ability in action before.
Yanagi sighed. "This is about you not wanting to play Atobe-san specifically, more than your desire to play doubles."
"Yes, Renji," he begrudgingly admitted. "I'm tired of playing that pompous, arrogant ass every damn time. Forgive me for being so bitter, but I will commit a crime if I go up against him again."
"Seiichi, you know—"
"—that I'm the only person who can take him on and win in a head-to-head competition," he cut him off and finished his sentence. "Like I said to Sanada before: we will crush Hyoutei in straight sets. It will never get to Singles 1, and, even if it did, Sanada could easily defeat that prick in his current state."
Yanagi knew there was no point in trying to change Yukimura's mind, but he still wanted to try. "Is throwing away the national title really worth the price of payback, Seiichi?"
"Of course not, but we will not lose, Renji," he responded, sounding just as arrogant as the man they were talking about. "We're the invincible Rikkai." He gave Shiraishi a warm smile. "Shall we continue?"
"Y-yeah s-sure," he stuttered. "I-it was nice seeing you, Yanagi-san."
When the two were far enough from Yanagi's supersonic heating range, Shiraishi let out a huge sigh of relief.
"That was close."
Yukimura laughed. "Don't worry about Renji. He might be a data tennis player, but he's quite awful at figuring out social relationships between people."
The aloof strategist said nothing as he watched the two walk in the opposite direction he was headed. When they had disappeared over the horizon, the growing pain in Yanagi's chest was borderline unbearable. He knew way ahead of time that Yukimura was going to do something drastic for the finals. He had already planned for this switch to occur and told everyone else beforehand. The only reason he came was to confirm his suspicions.
"You were right, Sadaharu," he muttered to himself. A stray tear flowed down from his left eye. "The probability of Seiichi choosing me is... zero percent..."
