Atobe likes good news.

He likes delivering good news, telling people good news, boasting and bragging about good news.

Atobe does not like giving bad news. It's tasteless. And it makes him angry.

He shows up to the designated meeting spot in something that would be a huff if he hadn't pulled it off with such style. As it is, ascot tucked in perfectly, jacket secured (without looking like it's secured, that's the trick) at a jaunty angle, he perches somewhat aggressively on the chair outside his favorite coffee cafe. "Yukimura," he calls, slightly tight-voiced-a considerable step down from his usual lilting purr, but probably not enough to be noticed. "I have news." Not good news, which would make his voice more lilting still, letting Yukimura bask in the beauty of it.

It doesn't sound like good news.

Yukimura has a penchant for reading people, and Atobe is an open book as far as people go. That's for the best, when it comes to their arrangement and situation. It isn't that he distrusts Atobe; it's more that he simply wants to know exactly what is going on…although right now, he isn't sure he wants to hear it at all.

Yukimura exhales a long, tired breath, dropping down into the chair across from Atobe. "Really. Do tell." It's been far too long since he's seen Sanada already (exactly 13 days and 5 hours and 27 minutes and yes, he keeps tally on the off-chance Sanada ever brings it up).

"Your vice-captain's brother," Atobe says, somewhat casually, "is a very violent person, when he thinks he's being crossed." He takes the photograph out without looking at it. There's no reason for him to go into another rage when his skin looks so nice today.

"That's what he did to my lawyer when he found out he was being followed. Unfortunately, if I were to press charges against him for this, my investigation and link with you would be compromised."

The fact that Sanada hasn't said anything about this makes his stomach twist into knots, and the fact that even if he had mentioned it, there was nothing he could do-

Yukimura resists the urge to start grinding his teeth. "… So what can we do?" he quietly asks instead, pushing the photograph back across the table to Atobe. "If his brother is this sort of person, why is it so difficult to find some way to get Sanada away from him?"

"Ah. Well." Atobe leans back, tucking the photograph back in to his pocket, unable to avoid catching a quick glimpse of the swollen flesh, the purpled bruises, the cast. "Apparently, your friend's brother is in possession not only of a violent temper, but quite a good lawyer as well. Go on, ask my knowledgeable self how he pays for it."

Yukimura is sure he doesn't want to know. Not really. But-"How?" he deadpans.

"A trust fund." Atobe's smile tightens. "Not his own. Apparently he blew through that immediately, betting on races and card games. Now he lives without working by the benevolence of one Sanada Genichirou-though I doubt he knows of his own generosity."

"So do something about it." It takes serious effort not to fish out his phone and find out when the next train leaves. Not that it would do any good, not when he can't drag Sanada back with him, though Yukimura is very tempted to do as much right now, no matter the repercussions. "Or tell me what I need to do. That isn't legal. There has to be something that we can do about it." Maybe Atobe just doesn't understand exactly how badly something needs to be done.

"It isn't up to me anymore." Atobe's smile slips finally from his face, and he leans forward. "Ah, Yukimura, you have to tell me this about your beloved subordinate-is family important to him?"

"…That definitely sounds like you're about to hire an assassin." Yukimura wonders if he's supposed to feel any smidgen of guilt for not really caring at this point, as long as it lands Sanada back on his doorstep.

"Because," Atobe says, trying not to look as entirely scandalized by the thought as he feels—really, how crude— "it's his signature on the documents, according to my lawyers. Obviously a forgery, but no one will be able to prove that unless Sanada—your friend, not his brother—contests his signature. Goes to court, calls his brother a liar. I learned that in pre-law school, in England." What do you do for summer vacation? Is almost on the tip of his lips.

Yukimura likes the ideas of assassins a lot better. They also seem a lot more likely, knowing Sanada. He exhales a long, exasperated breath, leaning back in his seat. "I'll have to talk to him," he finally settles upon, trying not to look or sound as annoyed as he feels. "His brother is all he has left. I'm not so certain he would go against him like that." He pauses, and gives Atobe a quizzical look. "Pre-law school?"

Atobe laughs somewhat nervously, waving that away before Yukimura can rudely question it any farther. "It's fine. But yes, talk to him. I can get them separated, as long as he's willing to send his brother to prison."

That sounds as unlikely as anything. "And here I was thinking the Atobe family was a lot more resourceful than this," Yukimura sighs. "Ah, well. Back to kidnapping schemes it is." He's only half-joking.

"Resources," Atobe says, smile firmly back in place (more rebelliously than anything—damn it, Yukimura should NOT be able to make him slip this easily), "are only part of the picture. The other part includes only helping those who consent to be helped. Or it gets sticky, I've been informed. Ah, you hire one sea monster without the birthday boy's consent…"

"Oh, please don't be mistaken, Sanada is very much consenting," Yukimura sweetly replies. "Sometimes he just needs to realize that he is. In general, this is much easier if plans are already in place and resources are already properly tapped into. I mean, you did attend pre-law school, so…"

Yukimura is really sort of rude. Atobe hadn't exactly expected that, knowing him only from tennis and the clubs. "I—well, yes," he says, fairly uncomfortable now. Absently, he fiddles with his mole. "Everything is in place, of course. I have lawyers—with quicker reflexes than the last one, of course—ready to snatch him the moment he consents. That's your job."

"Consider it done and done, then." Hopefully. Mostly. Yukimura doubts it, but Sanada will just have to forgive him if he pulls a few (heart)strings to make this happen, one way or another. "I'll be very appreciative if your lawyers are actually as quick as you say."

"I'll appreciate you getting him to resolve this mess as soon as possible," Atobe responds, shrugging—handsomely, of course. "I hope this won't affect your game in prefecturals too much. I only want to beat the best!"

"You really do have a great sense of humor! I've been told mine is quite dry, perhaps I could pick up a few things."

"Too dry," Atobe agrees, somewhat grumpily. "I dislike my wines so dry. Perhaps you could do with a bit of joi de vivre, loosen you up a bit. You should stop by one of my villas! Do you have a passport, just in case?"

It's a damn good thing that Atobe is honestly harmless, and Yukimura can tell that from a mile away. His head tilts, his smile bemused. "Yes, though I don't drink, and my free time tends to be spent on trains as of late. Thank you for the offer, though. Try inviting your teammates instead."

Atobe's head cocks. "Trains? Oh, that's no good. It must be hours to Ibaraki by train, how does anyone manage it? Just let me know the next time you want to go, I'll have you lifted. Ah, do you prefer planes, or helicopters?"

And then there's that. Yukimura just blinks at him. "…You're serious. Never mind, of course you're serious," he mutters, shaking his head. "Thank you, but as of a few weeks ago, I've been strictly prohibited from traveling that sort of distance, and trying to stay in my parents' good graces is sort of necessary if I want any of this to work out in the long term, so…"

"Ah, truly? What a shame." Atobe kicks back in his chair with an easy, calculated shrug. "You could be there in twenty-four minutes, you know. If you have time to meet with me, you'd have time to see him." He isn't stupid. Just because he won't say anything about it doesn't mean he doesn't understand.

"If I sneak off one more time to see him, they're going to make me stop playing tennis 'for my health.'" No matter how quietly he says it, the rising irritation over how ridiculous it all is sharpens his tone. Yukimura frowns. "And if that happens, so much of everything is moot. So I appreciate the offer, but…I can't."

"You have more self-control than I gave you credit for," Atobe praises faintly, standing up and stretching out his arms. "Then, for your health, though you look as if you could outperform any member of Hyotei besides my glorious self, I'll allow you to go. Call me if you change your mind, or if you get Sanada to sign the papers. I'm having them courier'd to your home presently, just in case you do see him."

"Thank you." And he means it. Who else has gone out of their way like this to try and help, after all? Yukimura sucks in a steadying breath, and climbs to his feet with a smile. "Best of luck in the prefecturals, then. Oh-which reminds me, have you heard from Tezuka lately?"

"Ah, yes!" Atobe's eyes light up—he loves talking about Tezuka. "I heard from him just this past week, actually! He's been dealing with the issues of attempting to enter the professional circuit while maintaining his grades, which, of course, is not the part with which he's having trouble." He also only answers the phone when Atobe says hello in German, as a begrudging way to practice the only foreign language Tezuka cares about.

"Ahh, he's still on that?" Yukimura mildly asks. He can literally count on one hand the times he's given a damn about Tezuka in his life, and all of those times have had to do with Sanada's general twitchiness regarding losing to him. That being said…Atobe has been doing him a lot of favors. The least he can do is humor some of his interests, too. "I hope his arm hasn't been giving him any issues." He does mean that sincerely, no matter how the excuse has made him roll his eyes on more than one occasion.

Atobe throws his head back and laughs, gently wiping one solitary tear away from a perfectly-shaped eye. "Ah, I'm sure it has. It always does, when he thinks he might lose. Funny how that works, isn't it?"

"…I am so glad you have a brain," Yukimura cheerfully replies. "That makes things so much more pleasant."

"For me as well, I must suspect," Atobe says cheerfully. "Shall I convey your wishes for his fullest recovery to dear Kunimitsu?"

"Please do. Mentally and physically, of course. Bonus points if you remind him that the professional circuit isn't going anywhere, and it's usually best to wait until you're at least done with high school to perfect one's craft."

Atobe's head tilts. "You don't know him very well, do you? Trust me, it's best to stop suggesting things that make sense."

Yukimura nods slowly in understanding. "Ah. One of those types. He wouldn't last around me, then."

Atobe's head inclines. He's not, as he'd told Yukimura, stupid. He and Tezuka are evenly matched on Tezuka's good days, and from what he's heard, Tezuka's good days aren't close to Yukimura or Sanada's good days. "We'll see at Nationals how long I'll last around you. Or, of course, how long you'll last around the beautiful me."

Atobe really is funny. When all is said and done, he'll have to tell Sanada to not roll his eyes about Atobe quite so much, because if nothing else, he would be entertaining to be around. "We'll have a good match, I'm sure of it," Yukimura smoothly replies, priding himself on not giggling. "A pity Tezuka won't be there, what with him being professional now and all, but you'll do."

There's a sort of amused, somewhat startled respect in Yukimura's eyes. Atobe loves that. He'd thought they'd get here earlier, to be honest, but he doesn't care when someone sees through him, as long as it happens eventually. "Yourself as well. Make sure not to develop any more life-threatening conditions, hmm? Nothing that compares to the misery of dear Tezuka's arm, at least."

"Please tell me you tease him like that." He's laughing now, there's no help for it. "I mean, if anyone is allowed to, you must be. Or does he still get huffy about it?"

"He usually hangs up on me," Atobe admits cheerfully. "But he usually does that in any case, so it's worth the sacrifice."

"That must get old after awhile. Ah, well, you're the one that has to endure it; good luck."

"We all have our burdens," Atobe says with a grin. "I've heard Sanada laugh. Good luck yourself."

"Oh, we've agreed never to do that again. The whole team, actually. It's for the best."

Dammit, Atobe is starting to really like Yukimura. He stands, letting his jersey fall properly back over his shoulders. "Doubtless. Such displays of obscene mirth hardly befit the awe-inspiring Rikkai Dai, do they? If you ever change your mind about the helicopter, just call me. If you can convince him not to laugh, I'm sure you can convince him to sign a paper."

God, he's not supposed to be in a better mood now. Whatever; Yukimura supposes he shouldn't argue about it too much. "I'll be sure to let you know." Now, if it were only that easy.

The fact that Sanada's school places high enough in the prefecturals to be seeded is hilarious (albeit somewhat predictable, because for the most part, when Sanada says he is going to do something, it does happen).

In their own prefectural match, Yukimura is actually a bit sorry that he doesn't have the opportunity to play Atobe in singles one. Finally, his own team has hit their stride, and the game is decided by singles two after two solid doubles defeats. Now, if only Niou would get his head out of his ass enough to play a good singles game again…

"See you at the Kantou drawing," he offers Atobe with a smile. That can't come soon enough, because it means he gets to see Sanada in person (god willing), and actually being able to discuss things with him in person is a very necessary thing.

The day comes, and Yukimura can already hear the murmuring when he steps into the room and makes his way down the stairs. Rumor mills grate on him to no end in the first place, and the whole Rikkaidai's previous captain and vice-captain are now rivals thing has been old for awhile now. He doesn't comment, doesn't as much as send anyone a glare, because that's too much effort when he can just plop himself right next to Sanada, beaming at him as he sets the other boy's hat on his head. "Thought you might want it back, for good luck in the upcoming matches."

Sanada takes in a slow, deep breath, trying not to act like a lovesick idiot just because Yukimura is close by. It isn't easy. He reaches up and adjusts his grandfather's cap with a brief nod of thanks. He doesn't dare look at Yukimura, knowing how much he wants to kiss whatever he sees now that he knows how that feels. "I'm keeping your headband. I need extra luck."

"Mm, that's fine," Yukimura cheerfully says, rocking back in his seat a bit to peer up at Sanada no matter how he hides underneath his hat. Maybe he shouldn't have given it back. "Seems like you've been having a pretty solid run of luck lately, though. How did that happen?"

"The hell if I know." Sanada shakes his head, chancing a quick glance at Yukimura—god, he's gotten prettier. "Can you believe one of my doubles won? Then I took Singles Three, of course, and one of the boys I trained went against someone who landed wrong and sprained his ankle in the first five minutes. Total dumb luck."

It's impossible not to start giggling. "I have to formally request that your good luck doesn't sprain my ankle. No matter what, I want to really play you in a match."

"I fail to see how it's luck to play against a compromised opponent."

"Don't start that," Yukimura chides, giving Sanada's knee a pat. "Just be glad you got here."

Sanada's leg twitches, and he shifts subtly, using every meditative technique he knows to will his body please don't get excited. "I am glad. I hope I draw you."

"Me, too." Yukimura takes pity on him, and doesn't keep petting his knee for now. "Do you have time for me after this? I want to talk to you about something."

Sanada's lips purse together, and he gives one quick nod. "Train leaves at three. We should have...an hour, probably."

"That's fine. We can grab something to eat at the train station, if you want."

It's funny watching the other teams when their name is called for the drawing, because no one wants that first spot against Azobu High. Yukimura is fairly certain he sees even Atobe heave a little sigh of relief, which is enough to make him snicker underneath his breath. "You're the only one here that wants me," he says with a pout. "How cruel."

"Just pragmatic." Sanada raises one eyebrow, leaning slightly back in his seat. "They want to make it all the way. I know we have no chance. It's best if I can just see you once."

"So negative. Think positively, maybe one of your teammates will beat one of my upperclassmen."

"And maybe everyone on Fudomine will break their arms at the same time for no reason," Sanada says dryly. "There is always hope."

"That's the spirit," Yukimura brightly replies, and gives Sanada's knee a nice, long squeeze. "Not that it matters, just so long as I get to play you."

Sanada grits his teeth. "Don't just touch my leg out of nowhere. It's mine."

Slowly, Yukimura's lips twitch into a less-than-sweet smile. "Wrong," he murmurs, and rubs his thumb in a slow circle along the inside of Sanada's thigh for emphasis. "It's mine."

Sanada opens his mouth, then closes it again as a slow shudder courses through him. He looks down, forgetting where they are, forgetting everyone around them. "Yours?"

Whoops. Not sorry. Yukimura lowers his lashes, deliberately looking away even as his fingers tiptoe up the inside of Sanada's thigh. "Mine. Legs, arms, everything."

Sanada's certain he used to know how to breathe. He loses the battle for control over his body almost immediately, stiffening inside his pants. He reaches out, brushing a thumb over Yukimura's shoulder. "Can I have this? Or...your nose?"

"Mm, that's fine," Yukimura hums, hooking a finger into one of Sanada's belt loops and tugging with a smirk. "But your whole body is mine. I'm greedy."

That's a bit too much, and Sanada's hand closes over Yukimura's firmly. "Not here," he growls, looking around. "If you don't have a private place—"

"Chiyokawa High!"

"Whoops, that's you!" Yukimura observes, grinning as he tugs his hand free of Sanada's grasp and giving him a solid swat on the shoulder. "Go draw a winner, Sanada!"

There's really no question in Sanada's mind what straw he'll draw. Much more important to him is standing, walking in such a way that not everyone will see how much he's embarrassing himself.

He reaches in, and draws a number. He knows, somehow, even before looking.

"Azobu Private High School!"

It's for the best.

Everyone in the nearby vicinity of Yukimura is decidedly weirded out by how pleased he looks. That's also for the best.

"Fate, or something like it," Yukimura tells him once they leave and head to the station, his bag on Sanada's shoulder already. It's still a habit for both of them, which is good. "Do you want to play singles three? It's up to you, I'll arrange things in a way that works best for you."

Sanada nods shortly. "I won't learn anything any other way. It'll be a disappointment to you no matter what, there's no one good to play up in Ibaraki. My playing has gotten worse."

"Anyone's playing would suffer without a proper challenge. Don't be so hard on yourself; leave that to me when you come home." Yukimura hesitates a bit at that, taking a sip from his coffee before offering it to Sanada. "I spoke to Atobe the other day, actually."

It's difficult not to have a look of extreme distaste on his face at that. "What did he want?" Sanada asks, still not entirely sure he likes the idea of asking anyone for help, least of all Atobe.

"… He has a pretty solid idea on how to get you out of Ibaraki," Yukimura quietly answers. "But I know you're not going to like it. It's about your brother."

Sanada casts Yukimura a quick, skeptical, searching look. "What about him? He won't give up custody. I've asked him."

Just talking about Sanada's brother makes Yukimura get twitchy. "Small wonder, considering that without custody, he can't keep draining your trust fund."

A slow blink. "He what? No, that money's held in trust. He can't withdraw it. No one can."

Yukimura heaves a sigh, stopping and crooking a finger. "Give me my bag. I'll show you the papers Atobe gave me. You can see where he forged your signature and everything to get access to it."

Sanada clutches the bag harder instinctively. "He wouldn't." Hiroto is a lot of things, maybe even a thief, but this?

Yukimura scowls. "Except he did. And if you confirm that it's a forgery and say that in court, you can come home."

Sanada wants to hit someone. He wants to hit someone through a wall, at even the idea that his last living family might…. "No." His voice comes out tight and strained. "I'll talk to him. It must be a mistake."

"As much as I loathe to say it, Atobe isn't an idiot, and even if he was, his lawyers aren't-including the one your own brother assaulted," Yukimura crisply retorts, folding his arms over his chest. He hates being right about things like this. Sanada needs to stop being so predictable. "He's done the research already, so what's the use in asking your brother? If your brother finds out that you know before you take him to court, don't you think he'll just take all of your money and make things even worse for you?"

"Then let him!"

Sanada's speaking far too loudly now, roaring a little, and he calms himself down with a slow, deep breath. It takes a few more slow, deep breaths before he can properly breathe without wanting to shout.

He turns, facing away, and says quietly, "If that's the only reason he wants me around, fine. I don't care about the money."

"So you want to stay up there in the middle of nowhere with him?" Yukimura's voice gets softer for every level that Sanada's previously rose. "Maybe he's the only blood you have left, but he doesn't love you."

Sanada lets out a snarl, and his fist connects with the nearest wall. When he pulls it away, there's a dent in the stone, and his knuckles are bloody. "He's all I have left! My parents would have wanted—"

His voice cracks, as if he's eleven years old again, and he can't find any more words.

Calmly, and without batting a single eye at Sanada's outburst, Yukimura reaches out to grab a fistful of the other boy's shirt, hauling him close. "Your parents," he firmly, quietly says, knocking his forehead against Sanada's, "would never want anything like this to happen to you. You deserve better. There's no reason for you to suffer when you don't have to. And he is not all you have left; just the only flesh and blood, which is meaningless if he doesn't treat you like you are."

All Sanada feels is lonely. The promise of warmth, of Yukimura's touch, of being at the top of every list in tennis and going home every night without a sick pit of disgust and sorrow in his chest seems as far away as the moon. His shoulders sag, and he leans into Yukimura's hold. "Even…even if he is. They won't let me go with you. Your parents won't, the government won't."

"Atobe seems to think he can fix that, too." Yukimura tugs again, shoving Sanada's face down into his neck, because he is very sure that is where Sanada's face should be. "He can't do anything if you won't testify against your brother, though." He hesitates, heaving a quiet sigh, and shuts his own eyes. "I understand why you don't want to," Yukimura admits, "and I know that maybe it's selfish to ask you to do it at all. You can think about it, and I'll try not to be mad, no matter what you decide."

Sanada pulls away briefly to look at Yukimura. The second he feels tears starting to prick his eyes, he shoves his face back in the other man's neck. No one needs to see that kind of shame from him. "If I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt, I'd be able to live with you," he says quietly, muffled into the other man's shirt, "I wouldn't hesitate. They don't...no one would recognize it. Our bond."

"It doesn't matter who recognizes it." Yukimura's breath huffs out quietly into Sanada's neck, and he wraps his arms firmly around Sanada's back to give him a slow, solid squeeze. "Our school has dorms, you know, if we can somehow clear the whole guardian issue. That's something. I'm also still in favor of hiding you underneath my bed."

Sanada has to wince at that. "Seiichi….it isn't so simple. I have my pride." Something that's important to him, even if no one else recognizes that it still means something these days. Yukimura has always been better than most about recognizing it.

"I'm trying to lighten the mood a bit, relax." Yukimura sighs long and hard, and rocks back onto his heels as he releases Sanada. "Well, I was serious about the dorms thing, but that wouldn't be so bad. I'd move out and stay there with you, even, no matter what. Just… if this is a matter of pride, then take pride in what is best for you. Sitting in Ibaraki and wasting away isn't that, Genicihirou."

It isn't as if Sanada can argue. He doesn't even want to—but pride burns in him fiercely, whether he wants it to or not. "I'll talk to him," he says, fingering the edge of his cap. "And if it's true, I'll tell him he can have my trust fund as long as he lets me board at Azobu."

Yukimura reaches up and flicks him squarely between the eyes. "Why would you want to reward someone that's hurting you? He's just going to show up again at some point and make things worse for you again."

"Because going to Azobu with you is all I care about." Sanada looks Yukimura squarely in the eyes. "You don't know for a fact that the courts will let me go there. They might ship me off to a fourth cousin in Hokkaido for all you know. At least this way I'd get to be at your side."

"Then I'll drag you away from a fourth cousin in Hokkaido," Yukimura stubbornly returns, frowning up at him. "All or nothing, Genichirou. Don't settle just because you want to be here with me; we're going to do this right so it stays right."

"Then provide an alternative solution!" Sanada says, eyebrows drawing together. "Even if Hiroto is doing what you say, what then? What's your big plan for when my last family member goes to prison? Ask the courts nicely if I can be my own guardian?"

"Can you have a little faith in other people for a change?" Yukimura snaps. "I don't like it any more than you do, but Atobe seems to know what he's doing, and we don't have many other options at this point unless you want to keep being a martyr when you don't need to be."

"You want me to put my faith in Atobe?" Sanada asks, incredulous. "Instead of my own family? Maybe if it was you that had an idea, but him?"

"It was my idea to talk to him in the first place, if that makes you feel better," Yukimura snidely retorts. "And a lot of good your brother's been doing you lately, so yes, I think it's perfectly logical for you to put your faith in someone that isn't out to ruin your life."

Sanada's tense, angry, not much at Yukimura, but at himself. He doesn't want it to be true, that Hiroto could be that kind of a person, even when he knows it's true. Not for the first time, the idea of walking out the front door without looking back sounds miraculously attractive.

But then, there's Yukimura.

Sanada's stomach roils, and he gives one quick, angry nod. "Fine."

"Then give me my bag." Yukimura doesn't wait for Sanada to obey in favor of hopping up and simply pulling it off of his shoulder to rummage through it. "Atobe already sent the paperwork to me for you to sign in case I saw you-you don't have to sign it right now, if you're still bent on talking to your brother," he sharply adds before Sanada can start snarling again. "Just take it." Yukimura pushes a small folder into Sanada's chest. "And whenever you're ready, send it back."

Sanada shakes his head, grabbing a pen from his pocket. He opens the folder, carefully signing his name in flowing strokes of the pen, and hands it over. Before letting go his grip, he looks Yukimura in the eye. "Don't act on this until after I talk to him," he says intently. "This is just easier because I spent all my money on the train to come here today."

Even if that's the case, relief courses through all of his limbs, and Yukimura nods, clutching the folder briefly to his chest before stuffing it back into his tennis bag. "You're letting me treat you before you go. Don't get bitchy about it, you can take me out to eat a dozen times over when you're home."

Sanada takes a deep breath to calm his instinctive reaction, then bows deeply. "Thank you for taking care of me as your guest. I apologize for the humble nature of my own dwelling. In the future, with the improvement of my status, you will be a welcome and honored guest."

That should satisfy pride for the moment, at least, since his stomach is rumbling.

"I look forward to it." Yukimura keeps a straight face for about a second before just grinning and grabbing Sanada's hat right off his head. "Too bad your train leaves so soon, or we'd get a real dinner. Later," he promises, and sets the hat down on his own head. "But for now, we'll make do."

That, Sanada supposes, is the best his day could possibly have gone. At least it means he gets to spend a little more time with Yukimura, as they used to spend time together. That's what he misses the most, he finds. Not the sex, although that was probably the best single experience of his young life. It's the small moments, the certainty that there was someone to pour tea for, someone to eat with, someone he'd catch on the school roof sleeping at lunchtime and have to write up with the disciplinary committee. He takes Yukimura's hand without fear, and nods. "Let's eat."