Chapter Text
Seiya knows even before Kaito has opened his mouth that this is going to be a confession.
He folds his hands neatly in front of him, letting a placid, patient expression settle across his face like a mask. Before him, Kaito’s stands as tall as the tree he dragged Seiya under just moments ago. Sunlight dapples across his hair through the rustling leaves above them, spots of gold falling across Kaito like stars.
He looks especially handsome today. Seiya’s gut clenches.
For all Kaito’s resolve, though, Seiya can tell how nervous he is in the way his fists tremble with tension at his sides, the way his lips are bitten raw. But this is a conversation Seiya knows Kaito won’t run away from. Kaito is brave, open, unflinching in a way that takes Seiya’s breath away.
Ah, Seiya is staring. That’s unfortunate.
Seiya flicks his gaze up to meet Kaito’s wide, intent eyes. His heart jumps; Seiya forces it to settle along with the churning, writhing mess his insides have become.
“Kaito?” he prompts.
“Seiya,” Kaito intones gravely, as serious as he is in the moments before a competition.
Against his will, Seiya’s heart lurches again. Elation flares to life for a brief moment before being overtaken by a vague panic.
“Seiya,” Kaito repeats, more softly this time. “I like you. Would you go out with me?”
The confession lands with the impact of an arrow hitting its mark.
Seiya breathes in and out, focusing on the sensation of the wind cooling the sweat on his face as he searches Kaito’s face.
Kaito’s cheeks are dark with a blush, his gaze not leaving Seiya’s. His fists loosen, his arms rising a little. His body language opens up, like he’s physically inviting Seiya into his space.
Kaito is always reaching for Seiya. Always.
Seiya breathes. He slides his gaze away, dread leadening his limbs.
“Well?” Kaito says, half-demand, half-expectation. There is so much hope in his eyes.
Seiya imagines himself stepping forward into Kaito’s space, taking his hands. He imagines letting himself have what he wants. But terror overwhelms him, and Seiya clears his throat.
“Kaito, I’m…I’m truly flattered. I respect you as a teammate and friend very much. But… I’m sorry,” Seiya says. “I don’t feel the same.”
The birds choose that moment to stop chirping. The wind whips around them faster. a cloud passes over the sun and plunges them into shadow.
There is a deep, painful silence.
“Oh,” Kaito says finally. His tone is so full of emotion that it’s—indecipherable.
The bizareness of that, of not knowing something Kaito is feeling for once, makes Seiya snap his gaze up to meet Kaito’s again.
Kaito looks hurt, which Seiya had expected, though it’s no less painful for the knowing. But what’s worse is how confused Kaito looks, and beyond that…disbelieving. Like Seiya has just shattered everything Kaito knew about Seiya, too.
“Oh,” Kaito says again. “Yeah. Okay.”
“This…this doesn’t need to change anything between us,” Seiya says. He keeps his voice level, calm.
“Sure,” Kaito says, staring hard at the ground. His shoulders have crawled up to his ears, which are blazing red. Mortification radiates off him.
Seiya almost reaches out to touch him. He stops himself just in time. They stand like that for a moment, Seiya watching Kaito, Kaito looking away.
“I’ll…see you back inside,” Seiya says finally.
Kaito nods.
Seiya hesitates. He opens his mouth, then closes it. There’s nothing else to say.
Seiya turns sharply and leaves. He doesn’t look back.
—
Ryouhei is the first to notice when Seiya returns. He elbows both Nanao and Seo, who stand next to him, and one by one, everyone in the shajo looks up. Seiya abruptly finds himself pinned under their eager gazes.
Suddenly, the elbowing and whispering Seiya had noticed at the beginning of practice, when Kaito had caught his sleeve and asked him to follow, starts to make sense. He pushes down nausea.
“I see that we haven’t gotten ready for practice yet,” Seiya says mildly.
A flicker of confusion crosses Ryouhei’s face. Nanao raises an eyebrow. Seo, Shiragiku, and Hanazawa exchange meaningful looks.
Worst of all, Minato’s eyes narrow. Seiya really wishes they could return to a time when Minato didn’t think about much else besides kyudo. He supposes he is, in part, responsible for that; almost passing out on a bridge in Minato’s arms has clearly left its mark.
“Where’s Kaito?” Minato asks.
Seiya’s skin itches. “He’s coming.”
“Is he…did you…?” Ryouhei pauses, clearly unsure how to finish his question.
“He’s coming,” Seiya repeats coolly. “Now, let’s change and begin, please.”
Glances flit between his teammates before they disperse, and the excited energy in the shajo dies an excruciating death.
Seiya takes a deep, grounding breath, in and out, before crossing the hall and picking up his bow. Halfway through wiping it down, his teammates begin to murmur again before abruptly quieting.
It seems Kaito has returned.
Seiya turns slightly, ensuring to appear busy and unaffected. Kaito’s shoulders are slumped, and he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Nanao crosses to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. They exchange words, and Nanao’s brow creases.
They both glance towards Seiya. Seiya pretends not to notice.
“Whoa, did something happen?” says a voice by the door. “Everyone’s distracted today.”
Seiya rarely has anything good to say about Masa-san, but for once, the man’s timing and presence are a blessing.
“Nothing,” Seiya says. “We’re ready to begin.”
Masa-san glances at Kaito, then at Seiya, frowning. Seiya forces himself not to bristle. Surely, Masa-san hadn’t known about Kaito’s confession, too, had he?
“Alright,” Masa-san says easily. “Gather around, everyone.”
Finally, Seiya thinks. Some normalcy.
He lets himself settle into the soothing familiarity of practice with a sigh of relief.
—
Seiya dawdles long enough after practice that Minato is forced to leave to take care of dinner. The annoyed expression on Minato’s face makes it clear that he knows what Seiya is doing and won’t let this go.
Seiya shrugs at Minato, unrepentant. He’ll take the win while he can.
The others slowly file out of the shajo, though Seiya catches more than one hesitant look thrown his way from almost everyone—except Kaito, who hasn’t looked at him once this afternoon, or spoken to him any more than necessary.
Which is what Seiya expected. It’s fair. It’s fine.
Finally alone, Seiya pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes and lets out a long, tired sigh.
“So.”
Seiya flinches.
“Masa-san,” he says, an edge to his voice. “You’re as silent as that owl of yours.”
Masa-san laughs sheepishly. “Sorry.” He pauses. “I just wanted to…check in.”
“Check in,” Seiya repeats warily.
“Yeah. Are you…doing okay?”
Seiya smiles. “Of course. Club president duties are going fine.”
Masa-san nods. “Right,” he mutters. “And, uh…how about…”
Seiya waits.
Masa-san stops and shakes his head, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “not my business.”
“Seiya,” he says instead, “you know that I’m here if you ever want to talk, right?”
Irritation flares hot in Seiya’s chest, both in part because he does know, and that Masa-san’s offer comes from a place of genuine kindness—and because of the ludicrous assumption that if Seiya really wanted to talk to someone, it would be with Masa-san.
Still, Seiya nods. “Yes. Thank you.”
Masa-san sighs. “Alright. Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Seiya hastily takes his leave. When he makes it outside, Nanao is waiting for him.
“Kisaragi-kun,” Seiya greets. His stomach twists with foreboding. God, he just needs this day to end .
“Takehaya,” Nanao says, standing and sliding his phone in his pocket. “Glad I caught you.”
Seiya suspects he means “caught” in the literal sense.
Whatever expression Seiya must be making has Nanao waving with a laugh. “Don’t worry,” Nanao says. “I’m not here to scold you.”
“You aren’t?” Seiya asks, surprised. Nanao and Kaito are fiercely protective of each other. Nanao isn’t really physically intimidating in the same way Kaito is, but Seiya has noticed that Nanao has his own sly way of defending himself and the people he cares about. “What did he tell you?”
“That he confessed, and you rejected him.”
Seiya winces. Nanao watches him closely.
“I’m the last person to say anything about rejecting confessions, especially ones that you don’t reciprocate,” Nanao says, grinning. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I do it on a daily basis.”
“You have quite the strong stomach,” Seiya says dryly.
Nanao shrugs. “More like a strong sense of boundaries.”
There’s a slight edge to the way Nanao says it that has Seiya’s hackles rising.
“It’s just,” Nanao says, casual. “Kacchan’s the kind of person who’s more observant than people think, you know? And if he confessed to you, then he thought it might be successful.”
Seiya lifts his chin. “I’m not responsible for him getting something wrong, Kisaragi-kun. I have a strong sense of boundaries, too. I’m sure you can respect that.”
“Right,” Nanao agrees. “But here’s the thing: I never got the sense that boundaries were something you particularly cared about with my cousin.”
Unconsciously, Seiya’s hands tighten around his backpack straps.
He thinks about Kaito’s hands on his fever-hot forehead just weeks after they met, Kaito’s hands soft and caring, and leaning into his touch. He thinks about Kaito’s eyes on him, piercing, like they want to see through to Seiya’s core, and the way he lets himself soften around Kaito, teasing and laughing and checking in on him.
He thinks about Kaito reaching. He thinks about wanting to reach back.
Nanao laughs brightly, as though they’re just two friends sharing gossip. There’s something different about him, suddenly, his eyes alight with realization—of what, Seiya doesn’t know, but it makes him uneasy. He notices abruptly that Nanao hasn’t taken his eyes off Seiya once.
“Maybe I misunderstood,” Nanao says. “If you don’t like him, you don’t like him. You’re not the kind of person to be cruel without a reason, right?”
Seiya’s head is spinning. But he manages to say, “Rejecting a confession isn’t cruel . I know I hurt Kaito, but—”
“Actually, I wasn’t talking about Kacchan that time,” Nanao says, gentle. For some reason, shame burns hot in Seiya’s cheeks.
“I’ll see you later,” Nanao tells him. Before Seiya can reply, he’s walking away, leaving Seiya alone in the light of the setting sun.
—
When Seiya gets home, he collapses immediately onto the couch and wraps his arms around Kuma’s neck.
His mother lets out an amused huff from the other end. “Seiya? Are you alright?”
“Fine,” Seiya says. It comes out garbled through Kuma’s fur. Kuma wags his tail excitedly, pulling back to lick Seiya’s cheek enthusiastically. “Did your meeting go well?”
His mother sighs. “As well as it could have. Your father and I know how to work our investors now.”
“Is he home yet?”
“No, he’s dealing with a complaint about one of the residents. He’ll be back late.”
Seiya hums. He feels the couch shift, and cool, soothing fingers slip into his hair. He sighs and turns his head to meet his mother’s knowing look.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
Seiya shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, tightening his arms around Kuma. She hums disbelievingly, and he winces. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he amends.
His mother sighs again. “Oh, Seiya,” she murmurs, fond and sad at the same time. “You’re so quick to take everything on by yourself.”
Seiya’s stomach flips. Those words…they’re familiar. So familiar.
She kisses his forehead. “Don’t be afraid to ask us for help if you need it, alright?”
Seiya nods, giving her a smile. He probably won’t, but at least he feels a little better.
“Go eat and then rest up,” his mother says. “I’ll take Kuma out for a walk.”
“Thank you,” Seiya says. He shovels down a meal that tastes like ash in his mouth, then collapses onto his bed.
He stares at the ceiling for a long time before drifting into uneasy slumber.
—
Seiya dreams a memory.
Days after he officially takes on the mantle of club president, he sits in the shajo before practice, eyes closed and chin resting on his knees as he soaks in the sun. Despite that, his hands are frozen, and they shake in tandem with his insides.
Breathe, he tells himself. You’ll lead this club to victory. You can do it. Breathe.
A rough hand ruffles his hair. Seiya jerks upright, scowling.
“Hey.”
Kaito drops down beside Seiya, haphazardly graceful. His shoulder knocks into Seiya’s and stays there, and Seiya finds himself leaning into Kaito’s steady side, trusting Kaito instinctively to hold him up.
And wonder of wonders, Seiya suddenly feels like he can breathe.
“What’s going on with you,” Kaito says, more statement than question.
“What do you mean?”
Kaito rolls his eyes. ‘C’mon, Seiya. Don’t play dumb.”
Seiya shrugs, feeling an uncharacteristic urge to fidget under Kaito’s narrow, assessing eyes. He always feels flayed open under that gaze, like Kaito is about to reach into his head at any moment for the whole world to see inside Seiya’s head. What’s worse is that Seiya hardly puts up a resistance, or even wants to.
How troublesome.
But there’s value in talking to Kaito, who is always honest, who doesn’t sugarcoat his beliefs. Seiya loves his friends, appreciates more than he can say how much they believe in him, but he needs the brusque truths only Kaito is comfortable saying directly to his face.
That, more than anything, allows Seiya to open up. Kaito won’t lie to him.
“I’m worried that I’ll be a poor leader for the club,” Seiya admits. “I don’t know if I can get us to victory at nationals.”
Kaito grunts. His gaze is heavy on Seiya.
“Yeah,” Kaito says. “I figured it might be some shit like that.”
Seiya frowns at him. Kaito shrugs.
“You’re kinda predictable, Seiya,” he says.
Seiya frowns harder. Predictable is the last thing he wants to be—dependable, reliable, yes, but predictable means being known, and being known is…
Seiya looks away with a huff. This is the problem with Kaito. Except beneath the vague horror at being known is a warm, almost-gooey pleasure at the fact that Kaito does know, or at least is starting to.
“Seiya,” Kaito says, and there’s a note of amusement in his voice that has Seiya meeting his eyes. “You know you’re not alone in this, right?”
Seiya blinks. “Well, of course.”
Kaito sighs, aggrieved. “I don’t mean in the ikiai sense,” he says. “I mean, you’re not the only one who is responsible for whether we make it to nationals or not.”
In theory, Seiya knows this. Kaito sighs again.
“And I know you won’t believe me,” he says. “You always gotta handle everything by yourself, don’t you? Must be a genius future doctor thing.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Seiya grouses.
Kaito snorts. He’s grinning suddenly, wide and crooked and warm, and Seiya’s heart turns into a tripping, thudding thing. Tachycardia, he thinks distantly.
“Nah,” Kaito says. “If you wanted that, you wouldn’t be talking to me.”
You’re right, Seiya thinks. How do you always know?
“Look,” Kaito says, leaning further into Seiya’s side. This close, Seiya can smell the sweat and wood and giriko wafting off him. He wants to burrow closer. “If you screw up, I’ll tell you. If you don’t, you can assume you’re doing fine. How’s that sound?”
Seiya weighs Kaito’s words, hears the thread underneath: Depend on me. Trust me.
That’s Kaito. Always reaching, always placing his heart in Seiya’s hands.
“That sounds good,” Seiya says, relief floating off his shoulders like wings, and he knows Kaito hears it: I trust you.
“Yeah?” Kaito’s smile softens. He elbows Seiya companionably. “Good.”
They sit together in silence, listening to the wind and the birds, until it’s time to get ready for practice.
—
Seiya wakes up slowly, his heart hammering away. It’s still dark outside, and when he checks his phone, it’s 03:06.
The dream-memory is clear in his mind, framed in gold and just as precious. Seiya thinks about getting up for school in a few hours, about seeing Kaito again. Kaito, who will look at him with dull eyes and tired hurt, if he looks at Seiya at all.
You wouldn’t do something cruel without a reason, Nanao echoes in his mind.
“I’m doing the right thing,” Seiya says. “I am.”
He rolls over and goes back to sleep, trying to believe his own hollow words.