Yasutomo shot the traitors scalding looks as he abandoned his futon and made a dash for the hallway, where he soon fell into the twitchy caricature of a casual stride by Yuusuke's side, back arched and hands shoved in his pockets. After a few meters, Yuusuke risked a glance at him and whipped his head away with a snort, struggling to swallow his laughter at the sight of Arakita Yasutomo pouting like a petulant child.

He cleared his throat and peered back, catching Yasutomo's eyes for the fraction of a second before he fixed them on the nearest wall. Yuusuke nudged his arm.

"What was that about, sho?"

"Haaah.. I have no idea what you mean," shrugged Yasutomo, lips pursed.

"You and Tadokorocchi..?" teased Yuusuke, more amused than afraid for once. Yasutomo blinked. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I don't know anyone with that name. Stop talking nonsense, you useless climber."

Yuusuke clicked his tongue, but his cheeks tinged.

"Are you, going somewhere..?" his hands tightened over the strap of his bag, unsure if he liked the idea. Yasutomo scoffed.

"I'm just stretching my legs to get away from a couple of treacherous jerks, and you just happen to be here, too. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"You're one to talk, sho," quipped Yuusuke, though his playful edge dulled in the process. "…You, you really went off at Shiraiwa-san, back at the bath.. I've never heard you sound so angry before, sho."

Tension rippled across Yasutomo's shoulders. His eyes darkened.

"If you had just been sulking after a day of riding on those damn training wheels, I might have said nothing, but I could smell you from across the hall, and you were downright terrified, Makishima. You were terrified of being naked around everyone.. and something inside me just snapped."

Yuusuke cringed, his colors fading fast. Yasutomo clenched his jaw.

"They mess with you at practice, but none of them ever laid a hand on you, did they..?"

Yuusuke shook his head wide-eyed, heart thumping as Yasutomo leaned in and sniffed him a few times, each whiff sharper than the last. Yuusuke swallowed.

"You don't believe me..?"

"I do now," came the laconic reply.

They carried on in silence, all the way to the bath, where Yasutomo stopped Yuusuke and pushed past the curtains into the locker room. He checked for used lockers, inspected the bath itself, then returned to the entrance, nodding to Yuusuke as he sank onto the nearest bench, his back against the wall and arms folded over his chest.

"Go on in, Makishima," he crossed his legs, staring into space. "It's empty, and I've been earlier."

Yuusuke hummed and entered the locker room, cheeks flushed and his belly full of butterflies. He picked a secluded corner and undressed, instinctively peering over his shoulder, but nobody came. Yuusuke washed and bathed alone, and all the while, he thought of Arakita Yasutomo, strong, terrifying, mysterious Arakita Yasutomo, the monster who kept the demons at bay.

Once his muscles loosened, Yuusuke returned to the locker room, where he changed into long-sleeved pajamas and carefully packed his toiletries away. He paused, then pulled out the straw he had hastily crammed into the bag during his escape from the first-years' bedroom, a strange smile playing on his lips. It seemed like such a little thing, and yet…

His brow furrowed. What are you even thinking, Yuusuke? Don't be ridiculous!

He bit his lip and sank the straw inside his pants pocket, then pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder and stepped outside… to find Yasutomo still sitting on the bench, though his head had since tipped to his right, mouth ajar and drool glimmering on his chin.

Yuusuke pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes wide. Was he waiting.. for me…?

He instinctively reached out a hand, but drew it back at the last second, fingers tightly curled. In the spur of the moment, Yuusuke set down his bag, then spun around and hurried over to the nearest vending machine, wallet in one hand and a finger tracing the labels.

Pocari Sweat… Amino Value… Oolong Tea… Bepsi.

His lips twitched upward as he clicked Bepsi. It came out ice cold, and when Yuusuke touched it to Yasutomo's cheek, it promptly woke him with a ferocious snort.

"W-What the HELL, Maki..shi-ma…" his voice dribbled off at the sight of the bottle fogged with condensation.

"For the drink, earlier…" Yuusuke managed an awkward smile. Yasutomo clicked his tongue, but he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, grabbed the offering, then lurched away from the bench, stretching like a grumpy cat.

"You're a mean guy, Makishima," he yawned as they headed back to their room. "Why'd you wake me up like that.. you could have just left me, you know."

Yuusuke scratched his cheek. "I couldn't do that, when you stayed for me, sho.."

Yasutomo choked. "I told you, I was stretching my legs, then sat down and got light-headed, that's all!"

"Right…" Yuusuke turned his head to hide another smile. Yasutomo sucked his teeth and drew a long gulp of his Bepsi. Yuusuke's hand sank into his pocket. "Thanks anyway, sho."

Yasutomo rolled his eyes.

"I think a fly's buzzing in my ear. It's annoying. He should cut it out."

Yuusuke snorted, but fell silent for the rest of the way to the bedroom, where Kinjou and Tadokoro now rested on their futons, blankets bunched over their head and shoulders, complete with obnoxiously loud fake-snoring. Yuusuke whirled around and sputtered into his hands. Yasutomo gurgled.

"You fuckers!" he slammed a foot into Tadokoro's backside, then tackled him in a headlock, screeching as the others roared with laughter and Tadokoro flopped onto his back, crushing his attacker with ease.

Ten minutes later, they lay down, staring at the ceiling.

"I don't wanna ride tomorrow," groaned Tadokoro. Yuusuke hummed.

"We can't give up yet," grunted Kinjou. They sighed.

"Fuck this camp," hissed Yasutomo. They hummed, louder.

Spite, Determination, Resignation, and Fear. Come morning, they woke up to sore muscles, chapped lips, and emptiness in their chests. Nobody said a word. Not even when Yasutomo stripped off his shirt, and Yuusuke noticed his bruises for the first time. His jaw dropped, but the others seemed to take those angry blotches in stride, and when Yasutomo stared back at him, eyes dead, Yuusuke lowered his head in embarrassment, his hand clenched around the straw in his pocket.

They made their futons, and by the time they left to eat breakfast, the straw had migrated into the middle back pocket of Yuusuke's jersey, for luck, or something, anything.

Unable to compete with their seniors' aggressive cheerfulness, they crammed their food down, then fled outside. Tadokoro glanced to the scoreboard and swallowed, hard.

"What happens if someone can't complete the menu..?" he whispered, voice tremulous. Yasutomo gritted his teeth.

"Don't you fucking dare," he hissed, then mounted his Bianche and sprinted off before anyone might mention his lack of shackles and overabundance of audacity. Little did Yasutomo know that his fellow first-years had long accepted the bruises as his own unique handicap, one they hoped had been entirely self-inflicted, and would disappear soon enough.

Scattered by their erratic pace, they rode alone in vicious circles under a blazing sun. Kinjou continued to experiment at the cost of his stamina, with sporadic success. Yuusuke minded his curves, a spike drawn down his spine. Yasutomo hid behind a blank face, shredding the noise inside his head… and Tadokoro's eyes pleaded the scoreboard in vain, hyperventilating as he gradually cracked like a battered cocoon until its walls crumbled over a dead butterfly.

It took Yasutomo five laps to realize that Tadokoro had been sitting on the sidelines for too long, head hanging. He screeched to a halt.

"What are you resting so long for? Get back on your bike and ride," Yasutomo scolded him as he fished out an energy gel from the cooler. Tadokoro's shoulders hunched.

"Didn't you hear me? Oi!"

"I can't, Arakita.." whispered Tadokoro. "When I retired.. they took my sensor…"

Yasutomo's eyes widened.

"Don't be ridiculous!" he punched the cooler. "Get back in there and ride!Ride for yourself, dammit!"

Tears streamed down Tadokoro's cheeks. Yasutomo snarled.

"FUCK!"

Within seconds, Yasutomo tore down the road again, face convulsing, while Tadokoro remained where he was as per his seniors' orders for the rest of the day.

Kinjou arrived last. The scoreboard clicked.

Arakita: 485 km

Kinjou: 450 km

Makishima: 340 km

Tadokoro: 235 km

Yasutomo spent that evening ignoring everyone in baleful silence, first-years included. Eventually, even Yuusuke gave up on engaging his attention, and yet when he left the bath as its final visitor, he found Yasutomo on the bench again, though Yasutomo sprang up the next moment and strode outside without a word.

On his late return, Yasutomo shoved a Bepsi into Tadokoro's hands, then flopped down and pulled his blanket over his head, too stubborn for apologies.

The next morning, Yasutomo and Yuusuke checked the scoreboard, staring bleakly at Tadokoro's locked row on the bottom.

"At least you're doing well, sho," sighed Yuusuke. Yasutomo clicked his tongue.

"If they let you ride freely, you'd be up there, too. …Makishima."

Yuusuke hummed. Yasutomo mounted his Bianche.

"Keep going anyway. If you somehow make it, pat yourself on the back, because you'll have done something amazing… and if you don't, blame the equipment and move on. That's what I'd do, anyway."

And with that, Yasutomo took off, leaving a wide-eyed Yuusuke behind, who had no idea he would one day repeat Yasutomo's advice to Onoda Sakamichi, or that he would repeat it to Yasutomo some six hours later, when Yasutomo stopped to have an energy gel, slurped it down, then doubled over and flooded the pavement with everything he had ingested since last morning. Tadokoro saw everything, and carried Yasutomo into the nurse's office, but when Yuusuke discovered the abandoned Bianche and a mess unmistakably illness-induced, he wound up there too, to keep watch over a clammy, shivering, bedridden Yasutomo.

"Cheer up, Arakita… blame the equipment..?" risked Yuusuke, though the joke sounded a little weak. Yasutomo barked a laugh regardless, then twitched as a shockwave tore through him and flooded his mouth with acid.

"You're right, Makishima.." he rasped, the corner of his mouth dribbling a sickly yellow against his pallid skin. "It's this piece of shit stomach… the bastard gave out on me.."

Yuusuke's heart sank. He turned his head, then reached inside his back pocket for a tissue, but before he could find one, Yasutomo wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand.

"Makishima.." he breathed, eyes slipping to the ceiling. "Can you get me a Bepsi.. A cold one."

"You need electrolytes, sho…"

"Fuck electrolytes. I'm dying. Be a pal."

Yuusuke shook his head, but a few minutes later, he returned with a bottle of Bepsi, a fresh straw bobbing inside. Yasutomo looked up, noticed the straw, and for a moment, Yuusuke found himself drawn into his smile - a real one with soft edges and cozy corners that cradled you close, instead of jagged ones you could cut yourself on if you weren't careful.

"Thanks, Makishima.. You're a real pal…" sighed Yasutomo as he reached up and ruffled Yuusuke's hair, leaving his scalp tingling. He then took the Bepsi, gradually twisted to his side till his jaw rested on the edge, and pulled the straw between his lips. A few sips, and Yasutomo wheezed. He poised his wrist, then tugged his near-nothing front tufts into miniature bangs with his free hand.

"Look.. I'm Makishima, except he's a nice guy, and I'm a gross, ugly, hopeless jerk.." he sipped away, eyelids drooping as steam wafted from Yuusuke's ears.

"Be quiet and drink your stupid Bepsi, sho!" he buried his red face in his hands, while Tadokoro hissed a tortured sigh, feeling suspiciously like he had intruded on something that was most definitely not a Thing.

And just like that, Yasutomo's promising ride was over. He eventually drifted away, motionless, quiet, and the longer Yuusuke stared at his languishing teammate, wondering why none of their seniors came looking for them, the less he could care about the training camp menu, or the bittersweet promise of some grand tournament reserved only for the cream of the Sohoku crop. Beside him, Tadokoro huffed in growing bitterness, arms folded over his chest.

"If this had been Kinjou, they'd have come running," he noted grimly. Yuusuke's mouth twisted.

"Class differences, huh..? We really are the bottom one percent, Tadokorocchi."

"Who you callin' Tadokorocchi..!" flushed Tadokoro. Yuusuke flinched.

"Sorry, sho.. I won't call you that if you hate it.." his hands clenched in his lap.

"W-Well, I've just, never been called that before, that's all…" stammered Tadokoro, one hand scratching furiously at his hair. "…Well, I guess it's better than being called dumbass by the king of dumbasses over here," he nodded to a peacefully resting Yasutomo. Yuusuke flashed a weak smile.

"Yeah, he's terrible, sho…" he tried for a laugh, but only tasted slime and regret in his throat. "You know what though, Tadokorocchi?"

"What?"

"I don't hate either of them, sho. Arakita or Kinjou, I mean. Kinjou's naturally talented, so the seniors fawn over him whether he likes it or not.. and the three of us, well…"

"Don't say it," whispered Tadokoro. "I don't think I could take it right now. I came here thinking I stood a chance, but I ended up dropping out first. I wish they'd just let me go home. Watching everyone ride on without me makes me feel like a big fat burden."

"You're not a burden, Tadokorocchi," sighed Yuusuke. "At least they let you ride alone, sho. I haven't been allowed since I joined, and here they gave me training wheels so I wouldn't waste their precious time, sho."

"It's unfair, Makishima!" wailed Tadokoro. "This camp is hard enough! And they say the Inter-high's even worse! What does that tell you, Makishima? Does that sound like we're ever gonna make it?"

"We might, once all our seniors graduate," Yuusuke gave him a wry smile. "Then we can ride however we want, sho!"

Tadokoro snorted. "Off with the training wheels and on with the Sohoku jerseys, eh?"

"Enough about the training wheels, sho! I quit, Tadokorocchi! I would sooner shave my head than ride another lap, sho!"

"Not so loud, they might hear you!" hushed Tadokoro.

"Yeah, save your pretty watermelon head, Makishima.." murmured Yasutomo, his grin stretching wider as Yuusuke flushed scarlet.

"How long have you been awake, sho?!"

"Long enough to be crowned your King, dumbasses," came the smug reply. "Now get His Majesty another Bepsi.. A cold one."

"Forget it, sho! You're getting electrolytes and you'll like it!"

"Stop acting like a gross couple already!" snapped Tadokoro.

Yuusuke growled in exasperation and fled the office, while Yasutomo burst into laughter, then keeled over whimpering as his stomach clenched like a fist.