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It was love at first sight.
Sort of. For one of them, at least. He didn't recognize it as love though, more like an intense burning rivalry that occasionally bordered on hatred. When he first saw him, the upperclassmen were touching him and praising him for a race he'd won in middle school. There he was, in the flesh. Kinjou Shingo. The guy he'd have to beat to become the fastest in the prefecture. He had well-shaped features (unlike his own constant rough expression), a well maintained haircut (unlike his own bowl cut), he was shaped like a cyclist (unlike. well.) and as if that wasn't enough the guy was even taller than him. How dare he.
There's no way someone could be that perfect at everything- there must be something he could be beaten at. Tadokoro knew that for him, it was cycling he'd have to crush Kinjou with. Kinjou had said that he'd only barely managed to beat that race, and he had been late to club practice; he obviously didn't take the sport seriously. There was no way he could be as good as everyone says, it was obviously hearsay and everyone wanted to believe it because that kid was so damn charming, and Tadokoro was going to put him in his place at the first year race.
But everyone knows how that went.
First Place: Kinjou Shingo
Last Place: Tadokoro Jin
Beaten by beginners. Losing miserably to Kinjou Shingo. Miserably. Even that green haired kid managed to beat him and he never went to practice. He didn't even cycle on his own.
Tadokoro sees him just a few weeks later, asking Kinjou how to motivate himself to practice regularly, watching as Kinjou excitedly asks to ride with him. It makes Tadokoro's chest flare up (and he doesn't know why) and before he knows it, he is standing between the two of them. Looming over them, even (he'd hit a growth spurt, but it's not like that mattered any more after that ridiculous defeat). He realizes they’ve stopped talking and he has to say something before it gets any worse. Awkwardly, he squawks out that he'd like to practice with them. Him.
An arm is thrown around Kinjou’s shoulder, he gives a squeeze and can hear how his voice is just barely keeping steady while he talks to Kinjou Shingo. He sounds too excited and is holding Kinjou too close. Shame rushes through his veins and Tadokoro has to act quickly before it gets any worse.
"I-In any case!! I'm not losing to you!" He yells, pushing Kinjou away and declaring war on his classmate. Kinjou blinks and seems off balance for a second, turning to Makishima (the kid with the green hair and the gloomy face) to tell him about his journals. There's that jealousy again, and Tadokoro wraps his arm around Kinjou's shoulder and pulls him away, trying to get that practice set up again.
They race to the Lawsons. Tadokoro loses, of course, and his chest is burning when they stop for refreshments. Kinjou has a sheen that just makes him look like he's finished warming up, and Tadokoro knows how he looks. Red cheeks, shaking legs and dark stains under his pits. He feels like an idiot, and knows he has an appearance to match.
The Lawsons is thankfully air conditioned, and Tadokoro heads straight to the coolers to grab himself something to eat. After the race he's starving, and he hungrily pulls three melon breads off the shelves and two tuna mayo onigiri. Kinjou passes him with a Pocari and a single onigiri, and Tadokoro feels like a fool all over again. The food goes back on the shelf, and he keeps only a bottle of water, remembering how the upperclassmen had said it’s "because you're so big that it you’re so slow."
He sits on the curb about a meter away from Kinjou drinking his water.
"You're getting faster, Tadokoro-kun," Kinjou says.
Tadokoro makes a noncommittal noise, feeling like the other is patronizing him. He takes a drink of his water, hoping it will quell the slight ache in his stomach. "Yeah yeah, pretty boy. I'm going to crush you to the ground someday,"
Kinjou laughs a bit awkwardly and takes a bite out of his food. "It's nice to have someone to practice with. It can get so lonely. I thought maybe Makishima-kun was starting to open up today but he refused. I'm glad you stepped in,"
"Oh," He swallows his water, feeling his ears start to redden. Wait, that response was too passive. "Oh, well, of course. I can't let you practice more than me if I'm going to beat you, you know,"
Kinjou smiles and is about to say something when Tadokoro's stomach growls. There's a pause between the two of them before Kinjou apologizes. "I'm so sorry, you must have forgotten your wallet at home, I shouldn't be eating in front of you- here," He splits the onigiri and gives Tadokoro half, and it’s the first time in a while that someone has offered him food without commenting on his size.
He takes it graciously and feels his chest warm a bit, and not from the summer heat.
It isn't until training camp that he realizes what this heat means. Day one is complete and he's already forty kilometers behind the second to last person. There's too many hills on this damned course and he feels so heavy every time he makes his way up the ascent. The others have handicaps on their bicycles, and Tadokoro is just barely keeping along. He's broken his vow to only eat two power bars through the day and his stomach is still screaming at him. He's miserable and just wants to be alone when he goes to the bath that day.
He bumps into Makishima on the way out, the other boy awkwardly greeting him (by name. It was progress) before scuttling off to bed. Tadokoro thinks he might be alone for a second and lets out a heaving sigh.
"Tadokoro-kun!"
"Kinjou," He replies. He gets in the bath, sitting opposite and letting the heat soak into his bones.
"I don't think I can move after today, Kanzaki-san is a demon." Kinjou’s glasses are sitting on the edge of the bath, and he seems to have trouble focusing when he talks to Tadokoro.
"Yeah," Tadokoro keeps his eyes down and stays still in the water. He knows that he should be having an easier time than Kinjou since his bike is untouched, but he's still too exhausted to talk. He wants to go home, he wants to sleep, and he wants to eat something. He's miserable and he should be unhappy that Kinjou is there to see him in his shame but. He isn't. It's nice to not be alone, and with someone who isn't going to drill him on his technique or ask him if he tried eating less. He feels safe near him. He feels….
Oh. That’s what that is.
Tadokoro tucks that revelation away. He has more important things to worry about.
Despite his best efforts, his legs can’t keep up and he drops out on the second day. By day three, Kinjou is the only first year to finish the training camp, and Tadokoro feels inadequate. A withdrawal slip for the cycling club. Cycling isn’t fun, just watching other people get first while he falls behind. He wants to win.
"You can't quit if you want to win." Captain Kanzaki tells him when he sees the club withdrawal form.
He wants to win.
"Worry about the hills later. You're good at flats. Become the best at that." Kanzaki grins, ushering Tadokoro back to his bicycle.
He wants to win.
He's going to win.
He's going to defeat Kinjou Shingo. He's going to finally, after months of training and fighting his own limits and becoming the best sprinter in Chiba, he's going to crush Kinjou Shingo and look him straight in the eye and say,
"Will you go out with me?!"
It’s a bit too loud for a public parking lot.
Kinjou's panting, laying on the grass with his bicycle next to him and blinking owlishly when Tadokoro speaks. Kinjous chest is heaving and Tadokoro's is aching (and not just from the race) and they both just stare at one another. Kinjou coughs and swallows, catching his breath before forming any words. "Yeah." He nods a little. "Yeah. okay. Let’s do it."
Another pause. "Really?"
Kinjou laughs from his place in the grass, slightly nodding again and wiping sweat from his brow. "Yes."
Tadokoro weakly punches his arm into the air and falls back onto the grass next to Kinjou, laughing loudly and excitedly. Kinjou smiles but doesn't say much, patting his shoulder a few times before leaning back to try to catch his breath again.
The dates are fun and awkward in the way that only high school dates can be. They go to restaurants and Tadokoro always orders twice as much as Kinjou, finishing in half the time. They ride on the long stretches of flats outside of practice (it turns out that Kinjou didn’t like hills either, he just knew he had to be good at them in order to become an ace), and encourage each other on the hills during practice, the heated rivalry fizzling into something much more healthy. Occasionally they head home to Tadokoro’s or Kinjou’s place, and play video games until Tadokoro gets too worked up and has to go sit in the other room to curb his competitive spirit so that he doesn’t end up throwing Kinjou over the couch if he’s beaten one more time.
But Kinjou doesn’t mind. He just rubs Tadokoro’s back and leans against him, suggesting that maybe they should try something other than video games for a date if he’s going to get that competitive.
He’s right, like always. They have much more fun just watching game shows on TV and leaning against one another, just talking, and sometimes lacing their fingers together when their parents aren’t looking.
And such is the way with all relationships of their type, they can’t hold each other’s hands in the hallway, or lean against one another during lunch break. But everyone notices that they’ve gotten friendlier and by fall even Makishima has noticed that Tadokoro’s calmer, and even approaches them for a conversation.
It falls into a comfortable pattern. A few months back Kinjou would try to initiate conversation with Makishima only to be met with an uncomfortable silence or the awkward, shaky replies of a kid who obviously wanted to escape the conversation as quickly as possible. And then there was that climbing race where he broke the record. The course record, the all time record using that climb he’d developed and not what the upperclassmen had tried to “fix” him into.
Captain Kanzaki had started to call them the shining generation, and after those months and months of agonizing defeat he wears that title with pride, even if he has to share it with a kid who doesn’t really want to talk to them. Even if now he’s sharing his private practices with Kinjou with that kid. Even if he downplayed his excitement in such an endearing way.
Okay, so Makishima was starting to grow on him. It was cute when he bleated every time Tadokoro pounded him on the back. But, he loves Kinjou, and shouldn’t be getting close to anyone like that now.
“Loves Kinjou.” Shingo feels too weird to say, but even just that sentence was something that he can’t say out loud. He tries to say it in other ways, by taking sweets from his family’s bakery and sneaking them to Kinjou between classes behind the staircase. He loves him and can’t wait until the next time they spend the evening alone together, because everything nowadays is spent with Makishima as well.
But he’s starting to not mind.
When he lays in bed next to Kinjou, arm around his side, Tadokoro can feel the guilt festering in his stomach. He assures himself that he just felt happiness that Makishima chose to privilege him when he finally started to open up and make friends. He loved only Kinjou.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,”
It’s not, and Kinjou knows but he doesn’t press, just bumping his forehead against Tadokoro’s chest and curling up tighter in the winter cold. An alarm is set early so Kinjou can move to the futon before his parents wake up, so Tadokoro tries to cherish every moment he has with just the two of them. But.
“Tadokorocchi.” Makishima manages to break him out of his trance and Tadokoro looks up from his lunch. “I asked if you wanted some shrimp tempura. My mom made it and I’m not a huge fan.”
Tadokoro leans down and bites the shrimp clean off the fork. He himself might have poor taste but his mother’s cooking was high quality. “Don’t call me that,” he says around the mouthful.
Makishima makes that bleating noise again and grins, knowing exactly how much he’s bugging Tadokoro. “Tadokorocchi.” He just barely avoids the fist that aims straight for his stomach, weaving around to stay just out of reach. “Noisy bear.”
“Be nice you two.” Tadokoro flushes when he hears Kinjou walk up behind them, feeling ashamed, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Save that energy for practice. You did so well on that race that the new Captain is going to expect us to keep up that energy.” Kinjou sits between them and Tadokoro pulls out a small sack from his bag, giving Kinjou one of the expired pieces of melon bread. It’s a comfortable silence for a moment when Kinjou digs in, but it doesn’t take long for them to notice that Makishima isn’t watching. He’s staring.
It’s Kinjou who speaks up, breaking his bread like he did for Tadokoro months back at the Lawsons. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”
Makishima excuses himself, packing up his lunch and saying something about having to use the bathroom. Usually when Tadokoro thinks that he and Kinjou have gotten caught his blood feels cold, but this chill is for something other than fear.
“I really really like you,” he tells Kinjou that night.
Kinjou opens his eyes, adjusting the blanket on top of the two of them. “I like you too,” he replies, glancing at the television to figure out how long ago he must have dozed off.
“I want to be with you.”
Kinjou pauses and turns a bit to look at Tadokoro, his words coming out cautiously. “You are with me. I like being with you too.”
“But.”
Kinjou stops, waiting for Tadokoro’s next words.
“I think that I like Makishima too.”
“Oh.”
Tadokoro wraps his arms tightly around Kinjou, holding him. “But I don’t want to break up with you either, okay? I just. I don’t know- hey-”
Kinjou is laughing a bit, and his face his pink behind his glasses. “I like him too,” He confesses, obviously trying not to laugh. “I don’t blame you. But... I still like you too much to want to pursue him,” Kinjou says, and Tadokoro can feel his heartbeat rise against his skin.
Tadokoro stares at the screen, holding on tight to Kinjou and pressing his lips together, carefully selecting his next words. “Well. Who says we can’t be greedy? Why can’t we.. yanno. Ask him too?”
Kinjou raises his eyebrows, his expression off balanced.
“What?”
Makishima stares between them. Tadokoro’s the one to ask and Kinjou is standing and smiling calmly (though not without a bit of sweat) and a tremble of his lip. Perhaps asking him in the clubroom wasn’t the best idea, especially when he was still half in his jersey.
“We just thought that maybe, you might be interested,” He continues, turning red in the ears just like he did with Kinjou.
“Right,” Makishima mutters, pushing his hair out of his face for just a moment before it falls back. “Are you sure? I’m not good with these sort of things,”
“Neither is Tadokoro,” Kinjou helpfully pipes up, dodging a swing. That’s enough to break the tension in the room and Makishima is laughing, pulling off his jersey and replacing it with a YAGI t-shirt. He looks between the two of them and sighs, then off to the side.
“I thought I was just projecting when I saw you two all over each other,” Makishima finally says, giving a lopsided smile, scratching the side of his nose.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Was it really that obvious?”
Makishima just laughs at them, and Tadokoro feels a pang in his chest from how cute he was when he genuinely smiled. “‘S probably only because I’m gay or whatever, don’t worry about it. I don’t think anyone else knows.”
“Kanzaki-san does,” Kinjou informs them, earning himself a bop on the head.
“Since when!?”
“Since he tried to set me up with someone from the tennis club.”
Makishima scoffs with amusement, head still tilted towards the ground. He picks at his own fingernails when he speaks, barely above a mutter. “Yeah, okay. Don’t blame me when I get too weird for you, then,”
It takes Tadokoro a second to realize that he’d been given a “yes” and when he does he pumps his fist in the air before scooping Makishima up in his arms, getting one of those annoyed bleats he’d grown so fond of in the past year. When Tadokoro finally sets Makishima down and Kinjou gives him a kiss on top of his green head, Tadokoro thinks that he couldn’t feel more elated than he is in that moment.
One thing they weren’t expecting was how their dates somehow became more lively. Makishima seemed to delight in pushing Tadokoro’s buttons, and even with Kinjou still there to calm him down the simplest of outings kept his blood running. Makishima’s parents also spent a lot of time out of town, so they found themselves with an empty house more often than not. It was nice for once to be able to wake up next to his boyfriend(s!) without fear of anyone finding them out.
The other thing they didn’t expect from Makishima was how quickly he liked to escalate things. They had an inkling with the way Makishima would squeeze their rears in inappropriate spaces, such as the hallway or walking down the street. So while it didn’t completely blindside them, Tadokoro was still startled when a simple kiss led to a hand down his pants, or when Makishima squirmed between Kinjou’s legs during what was supposed to be a quiet night in.
It takes some getting used to, but they don’t mind. Tadokoro enjoys seeing Kinjou knocked off balance for once, and he can’t say he dislikes the new twist to their relationship.
All three of them are selected for the interhigh, and their dates turn to practices, and they can’t stop talking about the upcoming race, coming up with strategies and exercises so they’re in peak condition. Best of all, Tadokoro points out, no one will be able to compete with their teamwork, because no one else has anything close to their relationship.
Makishima ruins that moment by asking why fucking each other makes them better cyclists.
--
When most relationships end it is usually hard to tell when everything started to fall apart. The conversations become a little harder to keep up, the dates are nuisances rather than events, maybe their little ticks have turned from endearing to annoying.
It was by accident when he did it, but Tadokoro knows Kinjou can pinpoint when their relationship ended. When the man from Hakone confessed to stealing their crown, he didn’t even realize he’d dropped Kinjou. He was so angry, so caught up in the heat of battle that, in that moment, Kinjou didn’t matter.
He didn’t see how Makishima looked at him when Kinjou fell a second time that day. All he could see was red and how that coward stared at the pavement.
After Tadokoro gave that kid a well deserved shiner, Kinjou was escorted to the medical tent, and Koga took care of his bike per his request. Tadokoro couldn’t watch as angry tears still burned at the edges of his vision. It was Makishima who broke him out of his rut, offering him a bottle of water.
“He stole it from us, we worked so hard for this and-”
“Kinjou is being transferred to the hospital,” Makishima interrupts him, looking off to the side. He slips the straw in his mouth, chewing on the end.
“Will he not be able to race tomorrow?”
“Tadokorocchi. Did you see his side?”
He pauses, unsure where Makishima is going with this. “Yeah? I know, he fell.”
“Did you look at it?” Makishima asks. Tadokoro’s brow furrows for a moment, and then he sees the blood on Makishima’s forearm, where he must have held him up. “I don’t know if he’ll be able to ride again,”
Tadokoro’s thoughts halt there as he tries to remember the injuries, realizing he barely looked at Kinjou. Makishima’s left glove was soaked with blood, and there were clear fresh stains on his jersey, flecking his entire side. “It wasn’t that bad,”
Makishima lets out a sardonic “kuah” while pulling off his glove. “He couldn’t stand when you dropped him.”
“I didn’t.” Did he? “I wasn’t-”
Makishima frowns, unable to keep up the facade of indifference. “I’m not the one to tell your excuses to, Tadokorocchi.” He fiddles with the straw again, clearly unsure of how to continue. “We just need to rest for tomorrow.”
And they did, or at least they tried.
The team of cheaters won. Without their aces Sohoku earned an abysmal 17th place.
Kinjou was still in the hospital, and their favorite first year also found themselves on a stretcher, cementing further how everything had been ruined. While packing away their tent, Tadokoro cried. He cried on the flight back to Chiba, and he cried when he got home that night. He was furious, and it was unfair, and he knew that he felt more upset about the loss than he did about Kinjou, and that just made him cry even harder.
Makishima informed him that Kinjou had been released from the hospital, but wasn’t going to be joining them in practice for a few weeks. When he saw Kinjou again it was hard to keep eye contact with his boyfriend, whose expression had hardened since the interhigh.
With his injuries it was harder to spend time with Kinjou. He stayed back on the rollers while everyone else continued their practice on the road. Makishima invited Kinjou out as well, but was always politely turned down, citing homework that needed to be done or appointments with physical therapy.
“If I see that Hakone bastard again, I’m going to kill him.”
Kinjou only responds with a soft “Hmm,” staring at his phone. Makishima shifts uncomfortably on their shared couch, careful not to touch Kinjou’s side.
“Are you healing all right?” Makishima asks, looking for something to break the uncomfortable tension in the air.
Kinjou finishes whatever he was typing into his phone before answering. “Yeah. I should be good to start practicing again in a week or so. I’m allowed to ride outside too, but nothing too strenuous.”
Both Makishima and Tadokoro knew that Kinjou blamed himself for the loss, but neither of them knew what to say to him. When they found out from that climber that the “Hakone bastard” was on his way, they both panicked. They couldn’t let Kinjou get into a fight and aggravate his almost healed wounds, and amidst their flailing Tadokoro “accidentally” shoved Fukutomi (that was his name, they’d found out) into a pile of equipment, giving them the need to break out the first-aid kit.
They were both surprised when Kinjou took Fukutomi’s apology so gracefully, taking him on a bike ride instead of caving his face in (which, if you were to ask Tadokoro, he had every right to do so). They’d parted on good terms, and Kinjou regifted Tadokoro the steamed meat buns that Fukutomi had given as an apology.
That night it was just Tadokoro and Makishima, laying on Makishima’s bed while some variety showed played on TV. Tadokoro’s hand wandered through his long green hair, gently pulling out any tangle he found. Makishima closed his phone, sighing loudly.
“Shingo says he’s too busy again.”
“I had assumed,” Tadokoro grunted, feeling resentful.
Makishima obviously struggled with his next words. “I don’t.. Think. That he wants to. Do this? Anymore.”
The hand detangling Makishima’s hair froze, falling to his back. “I know.”
He couldn’t tell if the sigh Makishima gave was of relief or disappointment. “Is that okay with you?”
Tadokoro squeezed Makishima’s shoulder, unable to help feeling ashamed. “Yes.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Makishima says. Despite affirming that it was okay that their trio turned to a duo, Tadokoro felt his now only boyfriend shake as he opened his phone again, only pausing his texting to rub at his face, and only speaking to ask for a tissue.
A year passes, and things somehow aren’t terrible between the three of them. Kinjou is captain, to no one’s surprise, and appoints Tadokoro as his vice captain. Everything seems normal, but both Tadokoro and Makishima notice Kinjou’s expressions have hardened. He’s tough on the new recruits, nearly as tough as Kanzaki, but lacking any of the humor their old captain had shown them.
Makishima struggles with his assigned kouhai, but by the way he talks about Onoda when they’re alone Tadokoro can hear the fondness in his voice. Naruko’s energy is hard to keep up with at times, but Tadokoro knows promise when he sees it.
It’s nice, because with new responsibilities they find Kinjou turns to them for advice and to talk through his process. Tadokoro and Makishima can still glimpse their friend behind the carefully crafted exterior, excitedly making individualized menus for the first years’ improvement. It gives them something to talk about, for sure, even if they still step around the elephant in the room.
Their relationship grows comfortable again. Tadokoro notices Kinjou looks on fondly when he and Makishima flirt. When he brings it up to Makishima in private they are both thankful that they don’t need to hide anything from him. It’s hard enough hiding from the rest of the world.
Kinjou still works harder than the rest of them, skipping out on their final meeting before the interhigh. Makishima tells Tadokoro that he’s visiting the track, but Tadokoro suspects he’s avoiding the meeting for other reasons.
After their kouhai leave, determined and just a bit terrified of the race looming ahead, Tadokoro and Makishima get the house to themselves.
“I’m not kidding, though, I am going to execute you for eating my ham,” Makishima says, pulling on Tadokoro’s cheek.
“I don’t think you have it in you,” Tadokoro responds, turning his head and biting Makishima’s finger.
“Sho.” He flicks Tadokoro’s nose, looking unamused. “When you finally make yourself sick I’m not going to feel bad.”
Words like that almost made it funny when Makishima found Tadokoro hiding behind the public restroom next to a pile of his own vomit on the first day of the interhigh. Makishima looked ill himself, but Tadokoro kept smiling through every cold sweat, making Makishima swear not to tell anyone, not even Kinjou.
Makishima had chopped him on the head that night in the bath, telling him that he’d had to make up some story about an empty toilet paper roll in order to keep Kinjou and everyone else from being suspicious. That information, of course, caused Tadokoro to retaliate, their tussle only stopping when their captain arrives, who tells them through a smile there’s no need for them to play nice for his sake.
The second leg of the race comes and goes. Tadokoro nearly drops out, almost taking Onoda with him, but they make it to the end, Kinjou losing the yellow tag only by a few centimeters. It doesn’t stop Tadokoro from teasing his juniors, even as he sees his kouhai desperately tending to his captain’s knee.
After Makishima ushers off the first years, Kinjou speaks up. “Teshima, Aoyagi, Sugimoto, can you give me some space? I need to get ready for the awards ceremony,”
The support team scurries off, only Teshima giving the two a second glance. With just the two of them, Tadokoro speaks up.
“We can’t catch a break, can we?” He says, taking a sip from his bottle of water.
He gets no response. Kinjou sits up on the makeshift cot, stretching his leg carefully.
“You did your best though. No one blames y-”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Kinjou asks.
Tadokoro’s grin falters. “It all worked out, didn’t it? Onoda-”
“You should have told me. You shouldn’t hurt yourself and you shouldn’t carry that burden alone.”
Tadokoro doesn’t mean to scoff, but he does, receiving a scowl from Kinjou. “You’re one to talk about riding to the point of injury.” He means for it to sound like a joke, but it doesn’t come out that way. “Besides, we need to ride for the team and making everyone worry isn’t riding for the team.”
“Yes, we’re riding for the team and that means we’re also riding for you.” his voice is harsh, as if he were scolding a child.
“And I’m trying to- we’re trying to ride for you too!” Tadokoro’s voice rises. “Trying to lecture me about hurting myself...look at your fuckin’ knee, Kinjou. Can you really lecture me like that?”
Kinjou’s lips press together, and he breaks his gaze only to stand up, cautiously testing his leg. “I know it’s an inconvenience,” he admits, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Shit.” Tadokoro presses his hand to his forehead, pushing the sweat soaked hair off his skin. “Don’t say that. No one blames you, you know. Even Naruko, despite how he acts, he doesn’t…” Tadokoro looks just beneath Kinjou’s chin, avoiding eye contact. “No one blames you for last year either.”
The atmosphere has turned oppressive, and Kinjou takes the opportunity to pull his jersey back on. He finally answers Tadokoro once he hooks the zipper together. “I know that.” he pulls the tab up, closing the front of the jersey. “But it didn’t feel that way.”
Tadokoro doesn’t know what to say, but he steps forward and places his arm around Kinjou’s shoulder. Kinjou sighs and bumps his head against Tadokoro’s chest, patting his stomach reassuringly.
“It’s really easy to get too caught up in the competition, isn’t it?” Tadokoro finally says.
“You always did get too invested,” Kinjou nudges.
Tadokoro laughs. “You’re one to talk! Look at you, despairing over a little overextension. That’s no problem. We’ll show those Hakone bastards yet!”
Kinjou looks annoyed. “Fukutomi’s a good guy once you get to know him.”
“Ehh.” He sees Kinjou glower out of the corner of his eye. “I’m sure, I’m sure, but I’ll never forgive him for hurting you.” He steps out of the way, allowing Kinjou to exit the tent. “For what it’s worth, though, I’m sorry. I…we didn’t know how to handle that.”
Kinjou doesn’t say it’s fine, but he thanks Tadokoro before setting off to the winners podium.
After the interhigh is over and they’ve finally earned their spot as the champions, the three of them finally talk to each other about all of the subjects they’ve been avoiding. Kinjou tells them that the breakup was mutual, they don’t need to feel like they pushed him away. Tadokoro tells him that he misses when they talked, and how Kinjou seemed like a different person after his injury. Makishima doesn’t say much of anything, instead just playing with his split ends.
“I’m okay,” Kinjou says, looking fondly at their shared trophy. “I’m not sad or upset, I just wanted to focus on what I really wanted. I’m sorry that you two weren’t part of that.”
“Ouch. Really pulled your punch on that one, huh?” Makishima mutters from under his curtain of hair.
“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He looks embarrassed, so Tadokoro doesn’t pick up where Makishima left off and tease him any further. “I’m happy that we’re still like this, though. And I’m happy that you two worked out.”
Makishima hums. “I’m not so sure. Just wait for him to steal my food a few more times.”
“Can’t you take anything seriously?” Tadokoro baps Makishima on the head, and Kinjou just chuckles. For the first time in a long time things are completely comfortable between the three of them, and Tadokoro can’t help but smile.
“I’m glad that you didn’t quit the bicycle club, Tadokoro,”
“Yeah.” He pats Kinjou on the back, bumping his head against the other’s. “Me too.”