"Team USA calls for another time out. There is more movement on the bench."
"Akashi seems stiff, don't you think, Marv?"
"It could be his injury resurfacing..."
Five minutes after the chiropractor thumped on Akashi's lower back with an object that resembled a hammer, he felt cautiously, guardedly better.
An hour after the man left he continued to feel good and moved about his preparations for practice as if he wasn't injured.
During practice he was able to move with ease and recaptured some of the grace he was so well known for.
That night they had sex for the first time in seven weeks where Furihata didn't have to straddle Akashi so as not to put undue strain on the already screaming nerves in his back.
Akashi still slept with a pillow between his knees, as recommended by the chiropractor, and he made an effort to keep both feet on the floor when seated – instead of crossing his legs as had been instilled by his father – and, began a regiment of lower body strengthening exercises.
That wasn't to say he was pain free and each Monday, he endured yet another adjustment by the chiropractor because his injury wasn't something that would ever be reversed, but could be controlled and mitigated. In the meantime Furihata did research, looking for discrete chiropractors in Los Angeles.
"Why hasn't Coach picked a Captain yet?" Pretty Boy growled the question, threw his towel in the general direction of the hamper, and slammed his locker closed. He stood there, naked and defiant, waiting for someone to answer his question.
I've been wondering the same thing, Akashi thought. I am the most qualified for the position after all.
"I wouldn't want to make the decision either," Sausage said, equally as naked, but less aware of the fact as he whipped around and almost flopped into one of the bench players.
"Gross," Brian Kramer, backup Point Guard, and the recipient of the Sausage's sausage sneer. "Get your junk out of my face. Everyone on this team is a Captain of their respective teams."
"I'm not," Midorima said quietly, continuing to dress.
"Ok, almost everyone," Kramer sighed. "So, Midorima's out of the running, but that leaves at least four other good choice for our Captain."
"Coach won't pick someone until we get to the games," Pretty Boy said a huff, and dropped to the bench, finally pulling on some modicum of clothing.
"What makes you so sure?" Akashi asked.
"That's right, both of you Japs are new to the Olympic Team, aren't you?" Pretty Boy smirked. "Coach didn't tell us 'til we were practicing in Rio, he said it was good for team morale to work our hardest and compete against each other until the last second."
Japs? As if I hadn't heard that one before.
"It's not going to be you," Kramer said, staring at the scars on Akashi's back.
"And why not?" The fiery redhead turned, feeling the team's eyes on his shame. He'd stopped hiding the marks with the Clipper once someone had insinuated the reason he never took his clothing off in the locker room was because of his… lack of endowment, but he wasn't going to play that game with these superstars.
"Because you've never been on the Olympic Team before," Kramer answered.
"You'd never be able to handle the pressure," Pretty Boy agreed.
Instead of rising to the bait, Akashi put on his t-shirt and then started in on his shoes.
Midorima was half-way through tapping the fingers of his left hand when the tape ran out. He looked through his locker and his bag and didn't find a spare.
"Does anyone have –?"
"Kazunari asked me to keep a spare roll in my bag," Akashi handed over the tape.
"Who's Kazunari? Your boyfriend?" The Shark, who had been quiet this whole time asked.
"Don't pretend to be ignorant, it's unflattering," Midorima said in a low, dismissive tone.
The Sausage made his way over, still naked, as Midorima finished wrapping his pinky finger. Seated as he was, when Midorima looked up, he was greeted with an enormous soft phallus.
"That's –" Akashi began, but Midorima waved him off with a gesture. The Shooting Guard turned his head and stood, pushing The Sausage backward.
"Would you like to see a picture of my husband?" Midorima turned on his phone and thumbed through his photographs, stopping at the one of Kazu and Akira that he'd taken last week.
"He's a beautiful man," Akashi said. "Who's ad campaign did he model for at Fashion Week?"
"Yamamoto Yohji and Versace," the proud husband answered.
A crowd had formed behind the naked man, all of them peering for a good look at the photograph.
"Alright, yeah he's pretty…"
"Are you kidding, I'd pound that ass…"
"How did you end up with such a looker?'
They were all comments and questions he'd heard before. The locker room talk, the taunts of opposing players… with Kazunari's help, he'd managed to learn to ignore most of it, occasionally throwing back as good as he got.
"I've been open about my sexuality since high school. Let me assure you," he said, his voice dropping lower and forcing everyone to move in to hear him, "that I am a very happily married man with a lovely daughter. The only cock I'm sucking is my husbands. I have no interest in any of yours. Are we done with this conversation?"
"I remember him! He and my girlfriend did a photo shoot together a month ago in California. He was really sweet and respectful," The Shark said. "You lucked out man, congrats."
In the subway, Midorima flopped into the first available seat while Akashi took ahold of one of the straps and stood before him.
"You handled that bullying well. If that asshole had put his penis in my face, I would have…"
"I'm glad you didn't notice me restraining myself from reaching out and squeezing his scrotum until he cried. The voices in my head suggest things like that all the time, but Kazu tells me that would make me very unpopular."
"My gold side, as Koki calls it, would have hurt him as well," Akashi confessed. "He would not approve either."
"It amuses me that everyone assumes that Kazu is the uke."
Akashi took a moment to truly hear that statement.
"…Assumes that Kazu is the uke." Why wouldn't they? Wait, he's amused?
"I… apologize, Shintarō, I likewise assumed…"
"Really? But you've known me for years."
"And I would never have equated you with the feminine role," Akashi insisted.
"It's not about being the girl," Midorima sighed. "It's no wonder you can't admit out loud that you're gay."
Akashi eyes darted around.
"Stop, we're speaking Japanese and the only other people in this car are old white ladies. If they speak Japanese it would be amazing, forget that, if they can hear us over the rumble of the subway, it would be a miracle."
"Still… I don't say such things in public because my father would destroy Koki's family as a punishment to me."
"Then bring them to the United States; put them under your protection. For a genius, you are very slow."
"Bring them here?"
"Get them jobs, bring them to the States. Set them up in comfort and stop lying to yourself and the world. If you are so shocked that Kazu is the seme in our relationship, you're working under assumptions for another age," Midorima insisted. "You're worse than the homophobes in the locker room who thought I'd want to suck their dicks just because I happen to be gay
As the train slowed for their stop, Midorima lurched out of his seat. Akashi followed him mechanically, as the wheels of inspiration began to twirl.