Chapter Text
Touno has never really played doubles before, never really considered he could. He's a very competent singles player and too much of an eccentric to lend well to group projects. Why would he waste his time on doubles?
Saitou hovers with ominous friendliness while Kurobe assigns them all to pairs, intensely scribbling notes seemingly based on their reactions. It's another psych test, and Touno is confident he's going to come out as 'impossible'.
"Alright," Saitou yells, leaning over the railing with his hand cupped around his mouth to amplify his voice, even though there is a megaphone on the ground right next to him. "You'll be playing one-game matches. Keep an eye on the score-board, it'll tell you who you're playing next. Coach Kurobe and I will be switching up team assignments throughout, so expect to be playing with a few people through the day."
Court 9 is just high enough up that there's not a lot of first years, and they're the only ones matched from the go.
"Have you played doubles before?" Kimijima asks, testing the tension on his racket.
"Nope," Touno says with a shrug. The first assigned matches are popping up on the score-board, and he's a little surprised to see a couple of court 8 and 7 names pop up there as well. They haven't done much mixing and matching outside of shuffle matches. "Well, I've played a few times, but nothing too serious."
Kimijma nods. "That doesn't surprise me. Well, if you're willing to let me call some of the shots-"
"Look, this is just a routine thing they're doing to check out which suckers they can stick into doubles practice," Touno interrupts him. "I really don't care. I'm just going to play my way and see what happens."
A sigh, a roll of his eyes. Kimijima's eyes aren't as round and kind in person as they are on billboards, and Touno gets the feeling he's missing something. "Very well. I'll just stay out of your way then."
The older students in their current court brackets aren't actually too interesting. They're good in terms of national averages, but unlike the ones in the top courts, the age advantage doesn't give them much of a head start anymore.
The doubles practice rounds go lightning fast, with alternating serves creating an interesting display of techniques right off the bat. As promised, Kimijima mostly stays out of the path of Touno's executions, sticking mostly to the back.
It kind of startles him, the first time Kimijima sends a ball he missed whizzing back right past his ear.
They win three games before Kurobe splits them up. Touno gets stuck with a second year, a third, another third, Mutsu (Yuuho), a second years, Oomagari, Kimijima again.
Oomagari is the only other one he's paired with for more than a single game, even though they spend their entire match competing over the front-end of the court.
Touno doesn't want to admit it, because it's kind of embarassing; Kimijima is fun to play with. He's reliable, sticks to his own corner and picks up the balls Touno misses. More importantly, he doesn't seem overly concerned with trying to coordinate any kind of strategy, so Touno doesn't have to threaten him into shutting the fuck up.
Because the coaches are dicks, they dismiss practice with a vague promise of incorporating the results into everyone's individual training advice once they've talked things over, and Touno naively assumes that to be the end of that.
---
There probably would have been more time dedicated to discussion about the doubles results, but that night Touno runs into Byoudoin on his snack run, gets firmly warned to speak no word of it, and camp gets a whole lot more interesting after that.
The very next evening, the black-clad losers swarm the fourth court and eat them alive, and Touno realises he can't languish around the ninth like some complacent loser.
---
"For today's shuffle matches," Kimijima starts over breakfast. Their little group has been joined by the other Mutsu twin, and they're clearly having some difficulty figuring out whether to swap their names back or not. "I'd like to take on fifth court."
"You're not that good, Kimijima," Touno says, pointing at him with a butter knife. "I've seen you play, you're all talk."
Shuuji starts to laugh.
"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Kimijima says drily. "I was going to ask if you wanted to join me, but I suppose that's out of the question."
Oomagari leans forward, apparently suddenly interested in the conversation.
"Wait, what?" 'Join him' surely doesn't mean-
"We did well during practice," Kimijima says, studying his nails. "Even though they're older, most doubles pairs here have been formed at camp. They won't be too much more accustomed to one another than we are."
"I'm a singles player," Touno reminds him, diligently ignoring Shuuji's continued wheezing. "You're just trying to capitalise on how cool my executions are."
"Fishing for compliments?" Kimijima doesn't look overly impressed, and gently reaches out next to him to clamp a hand over Shuuji's mouth. "You're a competent player. Get between Byoudoin and Oni and you'll get torn apart."
That's probably right, but that doesn't stop Touno from baring his teeth at Kimijima menacingly.
"And now you look like a dog. Maybe I should rescind that offer." He sips his tea nonchalantly. "There's no shame in playing doubles, you know."
"Who fuckin' said anything about shame? I just don't need your baggage holding me down pretty boy." He's being manipulated. He can tell.
Kimijima reaches out across the table with his free hand and condescendingly pats him on the head. "You don't need to tell me I'm pretty, but thank you. I apologise for insulting your strong singles pride. I am sure you are unbeatable and my baggage and I will tragically wilt in the doubles lane. Alone."
"You're going for doubles?" Oomagari asks, sounding curious. "Didn't strike you as the type to share the stage."
"On stage I'm the star," Kimijima agrees, "but I don't mind sharing the court. I'm a… people person."
"I wanna play doubles with San-san~," Shuuji interjects, once he's pried Kimijima's hand off of his face. "That sounds fun."
"Am I San-san?" Kimijima asks, a little confused. "I thought it was Kimi-kimi?"
"Don' try to make sense of it," Oomagari advises. "That hasn't worked out for anyone yet."
With the topic of doubles shelved for the moment, Touno focuses on cramming another egg roll into his mouth instead. Kimijima and Oomagari can try to wrangle Shuuji on their own.
---
Riled, Touno challenges Oni to a game during that day's shuffle matches.
It doesn't work out.
---
"Fine," he tells Kimijima the next morning. The twins are off elsewhere and Shuuji has been annexed by Irie for the morning, so Oomagari and Kimijima are enjoying a peaceful morning that Touno is probably crashing.
"Excuse me?"
"Fine, I'll play doubles with you." Judging by the sly little smile that earns him, Kimijima knew exactly what he meant even without clarification."But if this doesn't work out it's your fault."
"Such a burden."
---
The pair of third years in court 3 Kimijima singles out to challenge are cocky, and Touno takes great joy in their execution.
Kimijima looks kind of disturbed, like he hadn't quite anticipated the cost of moving up in the world.
---
They're not the kind of camp-wide sensation Oni and Byoudoin are, but there's definitely a buzz after their first official victory. There's whispers that, sure, maybe they're not there yet, but next year? There's potential there.
So maybe doubles wasn't really where Touno saw his tennis career going, but who is he to argue with labels like 'potential'?
Because he's hilarious he gets two bottles of Cola Vita to celebrate their rise in the ranks, and heads for Kimijima's room.
(It's two doors down from theirs. He had to ask Shuuji to find out, and then had to bribe him with his last Kit-kat to keep quiet about it.)
The door is opened by one of the mountain campers Touno hasn't said more than two words to. Mimi-something? Migi-something? Whatever.
"'S Kimijima in?" he asks, hands in his pockets and feigning nonchalance.
"Ah, Kimi-sama's partner," Mi-something mutters, and he does seem to have the uppity kind of quality that would have him room with a celebrity. "Sure, one moment."
Please hold, Touno thinks. What a boring person.
Kimijima comes out after a moment, looking kind of disheveled, like he's just finished a shower. There's something odd about him, but Touno isn't immediately sure what it is.
"Yes, what is it- oh, Touno-kun."
It's the first time Kimijima has said his name, he realises. Except, it's really not, because-
"You fucker," Touno shrieks.
Kimijima isn't wearing his glasses. He's not wearing his perfect fucking eyeliner either, and his hair is still poorly dyed blond, but without the glasses it's obvious that, well. Okay, so, maybe Touno is just a moron.
Kimijima blinks at him, looking momentarily confused before a genuinely delighted grin breaks out across his face.
"Don't you dare," Touno growls.
Kimijima slaps his hands over his mouth, but it's not enough to hide the hiccuping laughter bubbling up, and Touno wiggles his hands at him threateningly.
So, maybe assuming that two tennis players with the same name and the same age living in the same city were two separate people was, in hindsight, kind of dumb.
That doesn't stop Touno from leaping on top of Kimijima and digging his fingers into his side until he pleads for mercy after he chokes out a disbelieving 'you really didn't know'.
Tanegashima Shuuji, agent of chaos, is quick to insert pillows into their tickle fight, and within minutes mayhem has overtaken the entire hallway.
Touno has always had friends, always had goals to work towards. This, though, this is something entirely new.
Kimijima, teary eyed from laughter, is pressed into his side after he's wrung his revenge out of him, and whispers hushed strategy to take out some of the more intense pillow warriors.
Shuuji, neither friend nor foe, appears out of nowhere to stoke the fires of war. The twins, Oomagari, Byoudoin, Oni, Irie. People he's vaguely known for years, people he's only met two weeks ago, all of them come together.
It's incredibly stupid.
He thinks he could get used to this.
---
The buzz leading up to the final team selection is so intense that it feels almost like he should have predicted the anticlimax.
It happens during running, on one of the mornings Kimijima has to leave to go film something-or-other. There aren't too many of those now, not after he got reprimanded, but they still happen.
It's not even really one thing, as much as it is a domino of smaller things in rapid succession:
A rabbit shoots out of the low grass next to the path they're jogging on, startling one of the older boys he's running with into leaping back. He lands on a branch, which whips up and hits another boy's ankle, sending him tripping forward.
Touno tries to get out of the way, but misjudges the distance. A flailing arm throws him off balance, and he misses the landing, rolling off the path. His foot gets hooked into a twisted root, stuck in place even though momentum isn't done with him.
There's an unpleasant, almost wet cracking noise, and his vision goes black.
When he comes to, there's worried faces hovering just in front of his. His foot has been released, but his knee feels hot-bad-no, this isn't right.
He shrieks at them to get out of his face, then tries to get back up on his feet. His knee disagrees.
They have to carry him back to get it looked at, which is the actual worst. Being held up is one thing ever, but he decides then and there he'll accept a bullet to the head before he'll accept another piggy back ride from anyone.
Once back at the training facility, he's immediately loaded into Kurobe's car and taken to the hospital to get photos taken. It's not really the 'don't worry, it's just a sprain' he was hoping for.
---
Doctors tell him he's torn his meniscus.
It's not the death scentence he thought it might be. Rest, ice, some painkillers. Don't put weight on it.
He'll be fine, with time.
But be careful, the small print follows up. Stay careful. Now that it's happened once, it can happen again.
Like that wasn't always a risk.
---
They let him stick around for the rest of camp because there's a mental science to tennis. He gets to study theory with his leg propped up and an ice-pack on his knee.
Shigure-senpai, one segment of the chain that kicked his knee out of commission, grovels by bringing him snacks and sitting with him while the others work through their training.
If he ever stood a chance at the team selection, Kimijima lost it the second Touno dropped out of the equation, but he doesn't seem resentful over it. Much like his loss at the nationals last year, his half-hearted victory over Irie, his general even smugness at rising up, he takes the news calmly.
It's kind of like he doesn't care.
It bothers Touno more than he wants to admit.
The first years, the ones that are sure they're going to fight to come back next year, send off the first year All-Japan Under 17 representatives Oni and Byoudoin with a night of board games and too much sugar, and begin packing their own bags the next morning.
They'll follow the tournament on TV, from home. Some of them he won't see again until nationals, or maybe even camp. It feels kind of surreal.
The twins offer to pass messages to any Aomori acquaintances they might play, since his old team is never making nationals without him, and he tells them 'stop sucking'.
Phone numbers are being passed around left and right, and Kimijima has fucking business cards on him, because of course he does.
Some squirrely kid he hasn't spoken to even once with a rat face tries to get him to trade his, which is a stark reminder that Kimijima isn't just a guy outside the safety of the camp grounds.
Shuuji adds him to a LINE group titled 'Tomorrow's Doubles ☆' along with Oomagari, Kimijima and the Mutsu twins. They'll have to be on the lookout for more members next year, he says with a winky face and a kiss, because Shuuji is a weirdo.
He's pretty sure this means they're friends now.
---
"We'll be excited to see you again next year, Touno-kun," coach Saitou tells him with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Make sure to rest that leg up properly."
Everyone has been handed an evaluation sheet with working points and advice, tailored to their performance.
Touno's tells him to watch out for tunnel vision, and notes that having someone to watch the back of the court for him is a solid asset to his play style.
It calls his two executions 'creative', but also 'limited in use' and 'too much style over substance in the long run', and he's going to fucking show them all.
---
'Tomorrow's doubles' apparently means 'pictures of Shuuji's breakfast', 'pictures of Shuuji's parrot' and 'pictures of a cat Shuuji happened to come across today'.
Nobody seems quite sure how to talk to one another without first suffering through hours of training first.
Kimijima is easier to keep track of via twitter, where he announces livestreams and concerts, merchandise releases and an endless flow of selfies with various other idols Touno can't be bothered to remember.
Oomagari begins to post pictures of forests, the mountains at sunset, himself looking bored at some indoor surf pool. The twins occasionally pipe in to comment on things. (Or maybe it's just one of them. They're a unit, but Yuuho has been part of the group longer.)
Kimijima gets torn to shreds by a critic on live tv after his first drama appearance, and his usual single emoji responses to pictures dwindle to nothing.
Touno shows off pictures from his history books, uses the voice message function to ramble about a death by a thousand cuts, the actual mortality rates of hanging, the sheer artistry of the blood eagle.
To their credit, the others give detailed enough responses that he thinks they might even listen to the entire message.
'Surface of the spring' releases, and Kimijima bounces back from the hole most people seemed to have assumed would be an early grave for his career to a gentle, hopeful tune that carries sentiments of a lonely adversity overcome with patience and time.
He responds to a joking Shuuji's comment that they feared they'd never see him again with a selfie of himself on a film set.
'Well, they're still letting me on here, so I can't have completely blown it," he types, a rare moment of self-depreciation that Touno thinks might be the realest thing he's heard coming out of Kimijima since that one unfiltered laugh.
'If you do blow it,' he types back, meaning to sound comforting, 'at least you've got tennis to fall back on.'
'That's rude, Atsu,' Tanegashima says.
Kimijima doesn't respond.
---
The only fanfare to being a second years is that the tennis club switches from practice mode to tournament mode, and that the school finds it in their budget to switch their jerseys from a drabby brown to a really cool red and black design that is right up Touno's alley.
Tokyo regionals are way more exciting than the Aomori ones, with the possibility of crossing paths with several familiar faces, and yet he's still not prepared when he's pitted against the robin-egg blue and dove grey jerseys of Saisen in the district tournament finals.
Kimijima blinks at him from across the court, but doesn't look particularly surprised.
They're a private institution targeted at allowing students to pursue music alongside their regular education, and they're stronger than they have any right to be.
Touno plays singles one, because he's his school's ace. Kimijima plays doubles one, and Touno feels kind of cheated on.
Touno's school wins in spite of Saisen's oversized cheer squad, but it's the finals so they'll both pass to the regionals anyway.
"That was pretty sad," he informs Kimijima, ignoring the throng of pretty girls clamoring to get his attention. "Aren't you supposed to be good at doubles?"
"Not all doubles pairings were created equal," Kimijima responds, diplomatically tipping his current partner under the bus. "They can't all be all-Japan contenders. Did your leg heal up yet?"
It twinges sometimes, if Touno thinks about it too hard, and there's an element of fear in his play now, times where he'll catch his weight on the wrong leg just in case.
"All fixed up," he says instead of admitting that, because they actually barely know each other, and there's girls holding their camera-phones out and filming like creepers.
"Glad to hear it. Now you just need to earn your invitation," Kimijma says pleasantly, like he's just pointing out a general fact, but Touno can recognise a challenge when he hears one.
"Same to you, priss," he says with a wide grin and a cackle that confuses the hell out of their onlookers.
He makes sure to snarl at some of the girls when he walks back to his own team, who seem slightly unsettled at his cheerful mood.
---
Touno is popular in school for exactly three days, with a crowd he can't stand.
Apparently 'knowing a celebrity' is a personality trait to these people, and they're into it.
He gets a can of cold chocolate milk and upends it over a girl with big fake hair and false lashes, and takes the detention as a badge of honor.
When he tells the others, Kimijima responds with shock and horror, and warns him not to get into fights on his behalf again, using more words than he's spoken in all of the group chat's history combined.
Touno likes to imagine he's smiling as he does it.
---
Annoyingly, they end up on opposite brackets in the regionals. Saisen loses by a hair's breadth in the semifinals, Touno in the finals. Both get into the nationals, but neither of them find it very satisfying.
The twins send a picture of themselves in unfamiliar white-and-orange jerseys holding up golden medals, captioned 'Wait for it, Tokyo. We've got a new trick.'
Shuuji sends three-hundred and seventeen pictures during the shinkansen trip over. Oomagari, who doesn't seem to be taking part in any school tournaments at all, keeps count.
---
Fucking Byoudoin, with Makinofuji's high school team augmented by his new french… whatever they are, crushes Touno like a bug, right off the bat.
He'd been one hell of a player before, but there's a chasm between their skill levels across the court that makes Touno's knee twinge uncomfortably, and, shit, this guy is younger than he is, how do you measure up to that?
Byoudoin isn't here to make friends, isn't really here to win this specific tournament at all. Whatever happened during the past year, he seems to have set his sights on the world stage.
Touno had expected Oni to be the one who would lead them onto the world stage.
He's beginning to doubt.
---
Kimijima makes it a little further than he does, far enough that reporters drive disgruntled fans out of the stands to take pictures.
The twins' team get knocked out in the second round, but their perfect synchro creates its own buzz, and they look smug when they join the rest of the Tomorrow's Doubles chat for lunch, each sitting on opposite side of Oomagari. (Who is there, despite not participating.)
Shuuji is still in the running, because of course he is, and Kimijima is absent. It's probably tough to schedule lunch in semi-public spaces when your face is plastered all across the city to advertise running shoes.
Lunch is nice anyway. Shuuji has no concept of money, and sneakily pays the bill before anyone else can pitch in. Touno buys himself new shoes.
---
Makinofuji wins the nationals. Shuuji and Oni make them work for it.
---
Where the first-time attendees unwittingly end up thrown head first into competition for the black jerseys, any of the returning campgoers are allowed to take a shot at the red ones.
Plenty of people sit it out, still tired from their bus ride there or just not confident enough to give it a go, but Kimijima has signed the two of them up before he even arrived.
Touno can feel the weird distance he hasn't wanted to think about between them evaporate, just like that.
"Let's kill them," Touno crows, earning a couple of looks from people around them.
"Ah, it's him," one of the others (Fuwa? He thinks it's Fuwa) says loudly, startling a few surprised laughs out of people. It doesn't really bother him.
Kimijima looks tired, and pushes his glasses up. "Just defeating them will be quite enough for me, Touno-kun."
"You're no fun," Touno tells him with a faux pout that doesn't quite hide his excited grin. "I'll kill them all by myself, then. You can just look pretty."
"That," Kimijima says, gently nudging his shoulder, "is not the point. We're a strong pair, Touno-kun. There is no need to be crude about it."
---
He's not sure if either of them really anticipates making the cut. It's one thing to be confident, but with their newly minted badges (17 for Touno, 18 for Kimijima) pinned to their shirts, they're officially part of something big.
There's two other second years on the first string (Byoudoin as number 3, Duke at 8), as well as Yamato Yuudai, a first year with a weird haircut.
That Oni and Shuuji both decided to sit it out stings a little, but since he's ranking as a doubles player rather than on singles, Touno can't be too bothered by it.
There's some sort of drama happening around Byoudoin he's missing all of the details on, and he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know.
---
As cool as the red jerseys are, nothing beats the coolness of getting to be on the foreign expedition group. Sure, it means less time getting to hang out with what he's come to think of as his tennis friends, but he gets to travel abroad just to play tennis.
He's never left japan before, and he's excited as hell.
Three weeks of airplanes and training matches. They're warned in advance that it'll be extremely intensive, with little room for sightseeing and detours, and Touno doesn't even care. They're steps away from the top now, so close he can almost taste it, and he's got five new executions he's dying to show off.
---
"Did you see his face?"
Just as promised, there's barely any breathing space in between practice matches and minor tournaments. In-depth programs written by Kurobe are enforced by the coaches tagging along for supervision, and Touno can actually feel himself improve.
If this lasted any longer than it does, he'd probably die.
As is, he's running on fumes and caffeine, too wound up from their matches against a local Korean team that morning to settle down in his seat.
He's spent the first ten minutes awaiting takeoff fiddling with the movie display in front of him, but airplanes take ages to get off the ground and he's got a solid twelve hours of flight ahead of him (to Europe!, so he'll figure all that out later.
"Oi, Kimijima, you're not listening!" Kimijima is fiddling with his phone, probably responding to his management or something, and is most definitely not listening if the half-shrug he gives Touno is any indication.
"You were talking about out opponent's face when you used your- your pear? You've been talking about it all morning." He sounds tired, but like, proper workout tired instead of too much idol work tired, and it's a good look on him.
Touno wonders if Kimijima regrets making it onto the first string, maybe. He's never been overly passionate about tennis. Maybe this level of training is crossing a line for him.
"It's called the pear of anguish. I mean, that or choke pear, but I'm using the old name because it really captures what it does, you know. It's this thing, usually pear-shaped, which can be pulled apart, sorta like a flower kind of deal, except they'd put it in people's mouth, or sometimes-"
Kimijima shoves his big white headphones over his ears and gives Touno the most sour look he's ever seen him make. It's adorable, kind of like an angry kitten.
As doubles partners, they're generally assigned to the same shit now. Hotel rooms, exercises, plane seat rows, and fucking hell they should be tearing at each other's throats because they have nothing in common, but Touno can't remember ever being so comfortable with anyone.
It shouldn't, but it just works.
Except, of course, the part where Kimijima retreats right back into his pretty little hermit's shell of professional perfection at even the slightest hint of a camera.
He flits around between the people they meet like a true social butterfly, and Touno is gradually figuring out exactly why Kimijima keeps qualifying for things in spite of his occasional lapse in performance.
(Which, admittedly, are getting rarer and rarer. Whatever bias Touno might have against Kimijima's more passive playstyle, he can't deny he's actually an impressive player most of the time.)
With Touno more accepting of his role as a doubles specialist, Kimijima stops hanging back, and begins to do what he's best at; talk.
His english is perfect, unaccented american, and almost everyone they play seems charmed by his attempts to communicate, amused by his persistence, eventually annoyed when they realise he's getting to them.
'Oh, same,' he's found himself thinking as he watched a chinese player splutter furiously, caught in Kimijima's web of intruige. He's not sure what they talked about or what his partner had on him, but he remembers the feeling of having the fluffy rabbit turn on the hunter.
They're an hour into the flight and he's tapping his foot restlessly, trying to keep his attention on his horror movie even though the poor quality display makes it hard to follow, when he feels pressure on his shoulder.
Kimijima, headphones still on his head, has fallen asleep.
In sleep, his slack face looks almost innocent, like he isn't the type to dig into people's insecurities and abuse them for tennis. His hair is messy, and his glasses are askew.
Figuring it's probably better than dealing with Kimijima complaining about indentations left on his face, Touno carefully removes the glasses, and hooks them over the pamphlet compartment of the chair in front of him.
There's no way he can comfortably watch his movie like this, so Touno settles back and stares at Kimijima's face instead.
After a moment's consideration, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and takes a picture.
Maybe he'll send it to the group chat when they land. Kimijima will pout at him and probably bitch about it getting out to the public, but Shuuji will love it.
Or maybe he won't.
Maybe he'll keep it himself instead.
---
Kimijima is fluent in French.
Fuck.
---
The last leg of the Europe part of the trip is in Madrid, where they, at long last, get a single day off. Alongside that; a warning.
They'll be playing to keep their positions pretty much right after they get back, to give the coaches a chance to see their improvements from the trip.
Touno has worked on his endurance, Kimijima on his technique. They've crammed half a year's worth of improvement into the past three weeks, it feels like, but the way the warning gets delived makes it feel inadequate. Fuck, but it would be embarasing to walk back into camp and immediately lose his jersey.
Byoudoin and Duke feel like they're living in a world that's kind of beyond what mere mortals like the rest of them understand, but they're not as hard to get along with as he expected.
Kimijima tried to establish himself as friendly and polite, and Byoudoin told him to cut the crap. Immediately after, Byoudoin started asking them questions, testing either their insight or their tactical capablities.
Touno gets accepted on his fierceness, with Byoudoin's gruff commentary about liking his spirit feeling oddly like a blessing.
Kimijima's commentary apparently impresses, and while there's only so much idol preening Byoudoin tolerates, his input is treated as valuable. If Byoudoin is to be next year's number one, neither of them is going to protest.
Yamato, their little first years, is impressive, but. There's fear in his swings, and all of them notice. Touno's knee twinges in sympathy.
They spend their one free time milling about stores, with Touno critically eyeing the contents of several boutiques while Kimijima takes selfies with fifty different pairs of sunglasses, five local landmarks and one massive, luxurious bowl of ice cream that he takes three bites of before citing his diet and pawning it off on Touno.
Who is, like, not complaining.
"Do you just not eat?" he asks, between savoring bites of ice-cream.
"We've spent three weeks in close quarters, Touno-kun," Kimijima says, and his voice has no right to be doing that to Touno's name. "You know I eat food."
"Yeah, rabbit food and bird portions. Why'd you buy this if you were never going to eat it?"
"It's called a diet, that shouldn't surprise you. I don't want to ruin my skin any more than all this plane travel is doing already. As for why, food pictures are good filler for social media. What were you expecting?"
Sometimes Touno wonders what Kimijima would be like without all the idol baggage he seems to concern himself with 24/7.
He tries to imagine it, but comes up blank.
---
They win their shuffle matches upon their return, but to everyone's surprise many of the third years don't.
Shuuji and Oni aren't a surprise, really. Kimijima told him one evening, in the privacy of their hotel room, about the tournaments little Shuuji won as a child, the sheer talent he must have. Oni, even having apparently conceded to Byoudoin, already more than established himself the previous year.
The others, though; Oomagari is skilled when he isn't tired of everything and everyone around him, Ochi worked hard for his captain's spot and it shows. Kaji is a fast bastard. Fuwa's not as good as his ego tells him he is, but it's close.
Genius 10, they call them. The next generation.
---
Touno's assigned to Shuuji's room, which is fine by him. Kimijima gets put with Migihashi, which is also fine.
If Touno kind of misses him, nobody has to know.
---
They get outshone by Shuuji and Oomagari, who manage to steal spots on the final team selection. It's rude and Touno has opinions, especially when Kimijima gets asked to tag along with the support team.
It makes sense, in a way; Kimijima's strength lies in connections, and he can play the long game by starting to build them now. But Kimijima also doesn't care about tennis the way some of them do, and that smarts a little.
"We'll just have to prepare the stage for you next year, Atsu~" Tanegashima says from his bed. "Hey, wanna help me figure out boat stuff?"
"Remind me, why aren't you just taking a plane?"
"I'll leave the flying death traps for everyone else to die in," Shuuji says, weirdly cheerful all things considered. "Besides, isn't going by boat way cooler? It's going to take really long, so they'll have to get creative with the lineup until I get there. Should be interesting."
Shuuji sounds far too excited about the prospect of being a nuisance, which probably shouldn't come as a surprise.
"Maybe they'll make Kimijima substitute until you get there," he grumbles, stretching the cheeks of a weird rubber stress ball Shuuji had with him for some reason. "Even though he doesn't know how to play with Oomagari at all, and they'll suck."
"San-san is flexible," Shuuji says. "He can work with anyone, I believe in him. But maybe…"
There's something ominous about the way he trails off, and Touno rolls over to look at him. "Maybe wha- what the fuck dude!"
Shuuji's grinning face hovers minimeters away from his own, hands planted on either side of Touno's shoulders so he can't escape. "Or maybe Atsu doesn't want San-san to play with anyone else?"
"Oh fuck off, Shuuji." Touno can feel his ears burn, and he quickly moves to kick Shuuji off.
Unfortunately that's easier said than done, and before he knows what's happening Shuuji is cocooned around him like some sort of fucking parasite, and they're rolling over the floor with Touno shrieking obscenities while Shuuji crows about how cute he is.
He's pretty sure Kimijima knocked, because he's a stickler for manners, but neither of them would have heard it through the ruckus.
"Am I… interrupting?" There's something weirdly stiff about the way Kimijima asks, and Touno suddenly really does not want to be this close to Shuuji.
So naturally, he bites him on the arm.
"Atsu is mean to me," Shuuji whines a minute later, unbitten arm slung around Kimijima's shoulders as he admires the red mark on his forearm. "I'm wounded, San-san."
"I'm sure you're suffering greatly," Kimijima agrees mellowly. "That's not actually why I'm here."
"No, no, you're doing it wrong. You're supposed to kiss it better~"
If Shuuji is trying to paint himself a victim here, the shit-eating grin on his face is really not helping his case.
"What is going on in that head of yours now," Kimijima asks, sounding exhasperated. "No, don't answer that, I don't want to know. You know what, help me out and I'll kiss your boo-boo all better for you."
Touno sits up a little straighter. It's not like Kimijima to go along with nonsense quite so easily.
"What happened?" Maybe Shuuji senses his concern, because he looks a little more serious now.
"I'm missing… things." Kimijima looks troubled. "Migihashi left the door to our room unlocked, and I'm pretty sure someone went through my bag."
"Wait, you serious?" Shuuji asks, looking taken aback. Touno hisses angrily, because, what? "You sure they took something?"
"I'm sure," Kimijima says. "It's, well. It's specific stuff. Used deodorant, my toothbrush. Underwear. Nothing I can't replace, but…"
An unsettled silence falls in the room as he trails off.
Kimijima coughs uncomfortably. "I asked the coaches about it, but whoever did it didn't pass the camera at the hallway entrance so there aren't really any suspects. It's just…"
"Hella creepy?" Touno finishes for him. "Holy shit Kimijima, if you find them I'll kill them for you." He's worryingly sincere.
"We'll help you ask around," Shuuji promises, because really, what else are they supposed to do? "If anyone's got a guilty conscience, we'll figure them out."
---
They never figure out who the thief is, and Kimijima closes off.
Oh, he's friendly and polite as ever during the final day of camp, but he distances himself the same way he does over LINE, or any other time he feels watched.
It's a shit place to leave off, and Touno spends the bus ride home kicking himself for not knowing what to say to fix it.
---
They keep the Tomorrow's Doubles chat, which intensely follows the few members that are present at the world cup.
Shuuji assigns Kimijima the duty of live commenting, and Touno thinks it's to keep him from getting too stuck on the theft. He's kind of glad Kimijima isn't alone.
---
Kimijima sends him a picture of a charcoal gray shirt with a graphic of a red and black lizard on it, followed by a question mark. It's the first time he's contacted him via LINE directly, outside of any groups.
'Are those rhinestones?' Touno asks, after squinting at the lizard's scales, which have a weird sheen to them.
'Holographic foil of some sort, I think," Kimijima responds, instead of informing Touno he meant to send that to someone else.
'Badass,' Touno replies. He's not sure what to make of the exchange.
---
He's even less sure what to make of Kimijima wearing the shirt in a selfie he posts on his twitter a week later, not in the least because it's really not his style.
---
They're teetering on the edge of something, Touno thinks. If Kimijima agrees, he doesn't give any indication of it.
---
Kimi-sama gets an apology from critics and an award for his role in a recent drama, Shuuji a debut as a model. Byoudoin travels, Ochi grows even taller.
Touno feels small and weirdly plain as he finishes his second year of high school. His teachers badger him about the future, not accepting tennis as his only career path, so he begrudgingly starts thinking over other options.
He finds a bracelet with a red bead on it in the back of his desk drawer. It's cheap-looking, and several years out of fashion, and it fits around his wrist snugly, just a tad too small.
It spent two years with Kimijima, and he tells himself that's not the reason he's wearing it.
He's too young to be getting this pathetic.
---
Playing with a partner has unleashed a feral playstyle within him that doesn't lend itself particularly well to singles anymore, but nobody on his school's team can match him in doubles. They want to win, sure, but not enough.
Or maybe he's the one who doesn't want it enough this time; the nationals feel dull and petty next to the very real possibility of reaching the world stage. With the former third years' pity selection gone, they're pretty much guaranteed to be up there.
His invitation is secured anyway, based on his camp performance rather than his nationals run. He doesn't quite throw the whole thing, but he's a little ashamed to realize he also doesn't really try.
---
Kimijima is everywhere, all the time. It's not just the one incidental ad in Shibuya anymore; hardware stores play clips of his new music video, drama posters get big spreads in train stations.
He's probably not around as much as the top sellers of the industry, the full time idols who don't have to split their lives between their career and school, but Touno feels hyperaware of every time he passes that stupid face, winking at him.
They message back and forth, usually about food or clothes, but it's… difficult. There's a barrier between them now that wasn't there before, and Touno isn't sure what caused it.
Or maybe there isn't. Kimijima has never been very approachable via text.
Shuuji on the other hand is a train with no brakes, giving constant updates on his modeling, his tennis, whatever comes to mind. Kimijima doesn't seem to have trouble talking to him at least, if the sheer amount of times Shuuji manages to mention San-san in any given conversation is anything to go by.
Touno isn't sure whether he's trying to help or just deliberately being a pain in the ass.
---
He's so excited for camp it's stupid, and everyone notices.
---
All of the Genius 10 qualify for the foreign expedition, but Shuuji and Oni both choose to sit it out. Kaji temporarily takes over as number 5, even though Oni doesn't technically need to give up his spot in order to stay behind.
Irie could have made it, Tokugawa Kazuya definitely should. Maybe Touno should have been paying attention to camp drama after all.
Five minutes before takeoff his phone pings with a message from Shuuji.
'Don't have too much fun with San-san~☆', it reads, followed by a sticker of a bunny blowing a kiss.
He glances over at Kimijima just in case he needs to justify why Shuuji is sending him kissy faces, but Kimijima is too busy frowning at his own phone to notice.
---
Neither of them has ever really played nice with their opponents, in spite of Kimijima's protests against Touno's methods throughout the years.
Touno has thirteen executions, and Kimijima has numerous techniques of his own that all pale in the face of his negotiation skills. Those may have just been aligned to their interests when they first started out, but they're specialisations now.
There's only so sharp one can hone a blade, coach Kurobe's notes advise. If they want to move beyond the level they're at, they'll need to focus on their actual understanding of doubles, rather than play in on each other's gimmicks.
To Touno, it sounds like they're being split. To Kimijima it seems to be an excuse to try and push strategy into their games, focusing primarily on keeping Touno in line before he hits his adrenaline high.
It's annoying. Unfortunately, it also works.
They're halfway through Asia, and they're more in synch than they've ever been, falling back in a comfortable routine of badgering Kimijima with his history lessons and getting annoyed groans in return.
Sure, they're not the twins, but considering even Touno can't tell them apart anymore, they shouldn't want to be the twins anyway.
---
Their comfortable routine gets interrupted in China, when a japanese girl on vacation approaches them for a photo, overhears their conversation and feels well within her rights to tell Touno off for bothering Kimi-sama with morbid nonsense.
Touno, naturally, tells her to go fuck herself.
Kimijima, ever the gracious idol, offers her a photo and an autograph, but it isn't enough to keep her from blogging about the unsavory types he hangs around with.
It's not big enough to become a scandal, and a few posts on alt accounts that Kimijima apparently has at ready 'just in case' have his more loyal audience turn on the girl and scold her for not respecting his privacy. It really shouldn't have impacted anything else.
But just like every other time his idol lifestyle oversteps into his tennis career, Kimijima withdraws. The girl's criticism of Touno, specifically, seems to have struck a nerve, and Touno can see the wheels spinning in that pretty little mind, trying to calculate whether or not their aquaintance is becoming a liability.
It doesn't stop their doubles from improving, though, and after an unfortunate misstep in Italy he has bigger things to worry about than Kimijima's overthinking.
His fucking knee hurts.
Kimijima will come around before the world cup, he's sure.
He forgets that Kimijima has never cared about winning the way he has. It's a bit of a blind spot.
---
The middle schools change both the rules and the game all at once, and Kimijima is the weather vane who leaps on the opportunity.
Oh, there's no confirmation, nothing concrete to base his suspicions on, but Touno knows how Kimijima operates. There's a constant tug-o-war between his career and tennis, and somewhere between the lines Kimijima has become unable to coincile sharp and morbid Touno with the pristine picture he's trying to paint.
He should be fucking furious, but he's not.
He's going to come back from this, and he's going to fucking win, the satisfying, gritty kind of way that Kimijima can't bring himself to strive for.
Touno cares. He's going to prove that makes him strong.
---
Kimijima's apology comes during the match against france, much later. It's not in words, because he's so good with words that they've become meaningless.
Instead it's spelled out in action, in sweat and bloody knees, and more effort than Touno has ever seen him give anything.
I'm sorry, those bloody knees say. He's not sure either of them knows how to verbalise for what, so when Kimijima tries…
"Ok! Treatment complete!"
Like hell he's going to let him make things weirder than they already are.
---
"Touno-kun," Kimijima calls out later, and nobody bats an eye as he drops his conversation midway through to walk over.
Shuuji gives him an odd look, followed by a slightly sharper one aimed at Kimijima. Touno isn't sure what brought it on, exactly, but it's sweet that Shuuji cares. Kimijima actually looks a little sheepish.
"What's up," he greets without missing a beat, one hand resting on the bag of medical supplies he carries with him. "Knee still good?"
"My knees are fine,Touno-kun," Kimijima says, and he's a damn good actor, because Touno is pretty sure he would have missed the discomfort in his voice if they hadn't known each other quite so long. "Can we talk? In private, I mean?"
Touno really hopes this isn't leading up to another apology. He's got several months of knee-rehabilitation to work through before he's ready for feelings.
"Sure, lead the way."
---
They end up in Kimijima's room, with him sprawled on the bed and Kimijima sitting on a chair, because that's apparently less awkward than joining him.
Kimijima, foolishly believing there is such a thing as 'the right words', quietly stews in trying to figure out what to say. Touno, who never really had that problem, picks up a pillow and flings it at his face.
"So, how'd you enjoy giving it your all?"
Kimijima, glasses knocked askew by the pillow, gives him an unimpressed look.
"You realise I'm trying to apologise, right?"
"Oh, I know. I just don't wanna hear it." He's already heard it where it matters, loud and clear. "I'm more interested in getting that fighting spirit out with me on the field, instead of some lame middle schooler."
"I- you were serious? About wanting to play again?" Kimijima looks baffled.
"The fuck would I be lying about that for, asshole? But you gotta start answering your texts seriously. No more convenient camp schedule to decide shit for us."
Kimijima looks struck, genuinely thrown off guard, for a whole several seconds before he composes himself, slides back into his idol snake skin and smiles.
"You could always try calling me, you know. That tends to be a lot faster than making me decipher your obscure kanji choices."
Something clicks in Touno's head; they met because Kimijima hadn't been able to read a bunch of road signs. It made sense, because everyone knew he'd grown up in America, but…
"You still can't read?"
The snakeskin cracks again, the real Kimijima's annoyance outgrowing whatever need he feels to maintain his facade.
"I can read, Touno-kun. Just because I don't recognise every technical kanji out in your violent history nerd rants- No, never mind. I'm not going into this." He pushes up his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, like just being around Touno gives him a headache.
Touno, who has just seen Kimijima pour his heart and soul into a tennis match, who has seen Kimijima play petty tricks at camp, who has seen Kimijima fall asleep on a plane, who has seen Kimijima laugh until he cried, doesn't believe it for a second.
"I guess I can call next time," Touno muses to the ceiling. "Accommodation for the disabled and all that shit, right?"
Kimijima picks up the pillow Touno threw at him earlier. Touno gives him a cheeky grin.
He's anticipating eating feather down thrown from a distance, so he shrieks in surprise when Kimijima leaps out of his chair to stradle him instead, pushing the pillow right into his face.
"Who's disabled here, mister medical team," Kimijima growls, and Touno's laughter is smothered in pillow.
He bucks Kimijima off easily enough, because he's got the core and arm strength for it, and Kimijima had to know he would. Kimijima always knows fucking everything.
(Except the french ambidexterity fake-out, of course, but Kimijima's been subtly making eyes at Tristan since they met at the training tour, and Touno can't entirely blame him for being distracted by those legs.)
They end up flipped, Touno sprawled out on top of Kimijima, faces a hint and a thousand missed opportunities apart. Suddenly his heart is beating in his throat instead of his chest.
"Well, you already got your chance at support last year," he croaks out. "Might as well cover all my bases."
"That's the narrative we're going with?" Kimijima sounds a little breathless.
"Yeah, I think so. Sounds better than me fucking up my knee for no reason at all, right?" Because Kimijima might have fucked him over, but Touno's not letting him hijack responsibility for what happened later.
"Sure, why not. Free medical training for if we need it for Rakuten." Never mind that Kimijima's knee is probably not supposed to look like the return of the mummy for just a scrape.
Touno grins wickedly. "Rakuten, huh. Putting the stakes pretty high for someone who's still 'thinking about it'."
"Well, we've put an awful lot of time and effort into this doubles combination by now. It would be a shame if we never get to play an international tournament together, right?"
For all his attempts at feigned nonchalance, Kimijima's face is getting redder by the second. Touno doesn't feel inclined to move at all.
"Oh yeah, it'd be a real waste," he agrees, lifting a hand to brush some of his long hair out of Kimijima's face. "World's not ready to lose us just yet."
They're quiet for a long moment after that. He's been teetering on the edge for so long Touno doesn't even feel impatient anymore, content to wait for whatever Kimijima's brain is stuck on to work itself out.
Kimijima's fingers, soft and perfectly maintained as ever, close around his wrist, and he stares up at him with wide brown eyes that feel genuine and inviting for the first time since they've met.
"Forgive me if I'm presuming, but-"
"Nah," Touno cuts him off. "You're not."
A flash of annoyance plays across his face, but those have never made Kimijima less pretty. Then the fingers of his other hand slide into Touno's hair, at the nape of his neck, and he's pulling him down, down, down to finally finish the collision course he's started on a random road in Tokyo, five years ago.
Yeah, Touno thinks. He can work with this.