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Fukutomi Juichi is the best guy Arakita knows.
Okay, so maybe Fukutomi is a little too focused on cycling and speaks like five words per day and has a turtle for a pet and sometimes resembles a statue. And yeah, there was that time Fukutomi accidentally pulled Kinjou’s jersey during a race. But the world needs more quiet, focused people, and Fukutomi still sends a box of manjuu to Kinjou every year as an apology.
Visually speaking (and according to Toudou), Fukutomi is about a 3.5, with the .5 added only during the summer months because Fukutomi tans nicely. Arakita thinks that Fukutomi is a 5. He kind of has a thing for guys who dye their hair blond, and he used to hang around Fukutomi more than Toudou did so he’s seen more of that fit body. And Fukutomi is no porcelain pretty-boy who never gets his hands dirty: he gets roughed up pretty often for a studious, serious kid. Arakita wouldn’t even mind giving him a 7, but he has to dock a few points for those thick eyebrows and that stone-face.
Fukutomi’s biggest flaw is how judgmental he can be sometimes, like when he had assumed Arakita was a thug just because Arakita had a pompadour and had pushed him and his bike around a little. Or when he had assumed that Arakita wouldn’t get into Yonan just because Arakita sometimes copied other people’s homework. But Fukutomi is also the one who rescued him. Arakita had hit rock bottom, was feeling so fucking lonely, and Fukutomi told him to forget the past and look forward.
The three years they’ve had together at Hakone were great. Arakita had something to be excited about again after his failed baseball career. Those were some of his best days, coasting down the hills of Mt. Hakone with Fukutomi, winning races, assisting Fukutomi to victory.
Maybe he had had a little crush on Fukutomi back then, but of course he didn’t do anything about it. He gets crushes on other people too, girls with mysterious smiles, guys who’re the silent type. But he doesn’t really bother with them. Romance is for losers anyway. Completely unnecessary. Arakita is completely fine without that face-smooching, hand-holding, cuddling shit. It never lasts anyway. People always part ways in the end.
And fucking Fukutomi back then was out of the question. Fukutomi was his captain and the team’s ace. There was no need to complicate things. Arakita had enough on his plate trying to help Fukutomi win.
They’ve continued to be platonic friends even after graduating from Hakone Academy. They get together at least once a month. Fukutomi asks him about Yonan and tells him to keep up with his studies. Everything’s fine.
That is, everything’s fine until Arakita is cycling at the All-Japan Intercollege Championship, assisting for Kinjou, and sees Fukutomi approaching from behind. The first thing Arakita notices is that Fukutomi is wearing a pair of blue sunglasses that really complements his hair, which really is a very nice shade of blond. The last thing Arakita notices, before Fukutomi passes by with a little wave, is that Fukutomi is positively straining his brand new, sparkling Meisou jersey.
“Ohhh fuck,” Arakita says, and accidentally bangs both his bike and his arm against the rails.
***
Kinjou is nice about the loss. “We have two more days,” he says. After two more losses (not completely Arakita’s fault: the seniors weren’t doing their part either; Arakita only got distracted twice, and that’s because Meisou’s ace kept putting his hand on Fukutomi’s back), Kinjou says, “Have a good summer, Arakita.”
“A good summer?” Arakita looks at Fukutomi, who is boarding Meisou’s bus. “That’s what you tell school kids. Who has a summer break after graduating, huh?”
Kinjou says, “Get your problems sorted out, Arakita. Only those who are completely focused can participate in our next race.”
“Completely focused? I’m always completely focused.”
***
Arakita was planning on spending the rest of summer break with Fukutomi, Toudou, and Shinkai, just riding their bikes for fun and hitting up their favorite restaurants and getting spa treatments at Toudou’s family inn. But now he can’t do that with Fukutomi, who has become a 10, and after the first few days, he can’t hang out with Toudou and Shinkai either. He’s getting annoyed with Toudou’s constant mothering and his monologues about Makishima Yuusuke, and with Shinkai’s hair-twirling and snacking. He decides to just stay at home.
He is lying on his hammock, just drifting off to his third nap of the day, when he hears the front gate opening. It must be his mother and sisters, back with groceries.
“Ma,” he says, “hope you bought popsicles. Hand me one, will you.”
“Arakita.”
He almost falls out of the hammock. He knows that voice. Sure enough, when he walks out into the yard he sees Fukutomi standing near the gate. Fukutomi is wearing those glasses again. His bike is nowhere in sight.
“Fuku-chan!” Arakita says. “You walked all the way over here? What’s up?”
Fukutomi’s face is as unreadable as ever. He replies, “I haven’t seen you since the tournament, so I thought I would visit.”
“Aww, you missed me?”
“Would you like to go cycling?”
“Where’s your bike?”
“I put it in the shop for repairs.” Fukutomi looks around. “Don’t you have one I can borrow?”
“’Course.” Arakita would like nothing better than to have Fukutomi put that fine ass on one of his bike seats. “Hang on a sec.”
He realizes, after wheeling the bike out and watching Fukutomi mount it, that this isn’t the way to get over a crush. Oh, well, too late. He’ll just have to be more careful in the future.
“Alright!” he says, getting on his own bike. “Where to?”
They go to the fast food restaurant they used to visit after practice last year. Fukutomi orders apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Arakita can’t remember him being a messy eater before, but today Fukutomi gets ice cream on the corner of his mouth, and Arakita has to wipe it off with his own finger so that he doesn’t end up making a mess in his pants. He resolves not to eat out with Fukutomi anymore, at least not alone.
***
Arakita just wants some peace and quiet, just a restful summer break so that he can recharge for the rest of the semester, but his mother and sisters have other plans. His mother wants him to teach her how to use the new computer so that she can make a Facebook account and keep in touch with her friends. His sisters want to play “yakuza” with him. He has to be an enforcer while they take turns being the boss. But they’re not good about taking turns, so most of their games end in big fights that he has to break up. After getting scratched by the younger brat, and then tripping over the dog, Arakita goes to Toudou’s inn.
Toudou is happy to see him, and happier to tell Arakita about what Makishima has been up to in England.
“Alright, alright,” Arakita says after an hour of this. Fukutomi hasn’t shown up, even though Toudou mentioned that Fukutomi has been visiting regularly. “But what’s the point of loving someone who’s so far away anyway? You can only have sex like once a year.”
“There’s no romance in your heart, Arakita.” Toudou shakes his head sadly. “It must be so hard, being you.”
Arakita is struck by a sudden thought. He remembers the first day of the tournament, Fukutomi showing up and then Kinjou taking off after him. “Hey,” he says, “you think Fuku-chan has romantic feelings for Kinjou?”
“Probably. They are rivals after all.”
“Does Fuku-chan look different to you? What’s his current visual appeal?”
“Four.” Toudou smiles at the guest who is currently checking in. She blushes. “His pecs have improved,” he continues. “He must be trying to impress Kinjou.”
“You really have to be rivals to be in love?”
“Maki-chan and I am!”
For what must be the hundredth time, Toudou retells the story of how he met Makishima. Arakita half-listens while wondering if Kinjou likes Fukutomi. Kinjou is hard to read, worse than Fukutomi. He told Arakita to sort his shit out. That could have been code for “find someone else, Fukutomi is my man.”
“Who needs romance when you have a sweet bike and a long road ahead of you?” Arakita says as he heads out of the inn.
He is riding up the long road in front of the inn when he passes Fukutomi, who is on his own bike again, heading in the opposite direction. Arakita keeps on pedaling. After a few minutes, he hears Fukutomi riding up behind him.
“Race you,” Arakita says.
“Okay,” Fukutomi replies, shifting gears.
He wins, of course, but with a lesser margin than the first time they had raced. He does that little fist pump thing too when he wins. Arakita grins.
“Yeah, good for you, Fuku-chan,” he says.
No wonder Fukutomi doesn’t notice him though. How can he see when he’s always so far ahead? Even when Arakita assisted him, Fukutomi would be thinking of reaching the finish line.
“Hey, Fuku-chan,” Arakita says.
Fukutomi brakes and then turns to face him. Arakita wants to say “you and Kinjou, huh?” or “I’m glad to have met you.” But he ends up saying, “Give me a water bottle. I feel like I’ve swallowed the Sahara or something.”
Fukutomi tosses him a water bottle. Arakita puts his mouth right on it. Friends can share saliva, right? He’s used Fukutomi’s bottles before.
***
The best source of information on Fukutomi is Shinkai. The guy is also pretty helpful. He was always willing to let Arakita copy his homework. So, that’s why Arakita has gone over to Shinkai’s house and is currently sitting in the yard with two gigantic rabbits in his lap.
“Hmm? I don’t think he’s interested in anyone,” Shinkai says. “Here, would you like to hold Mr. Rabbit the Third?”
“No! What the fuck, idiot, I’ve already got two on my lap.” Arakita tries to move one off, but it cuddles closer to him. He sighs. “Anyway, you’re sure? He doesn’t have a girlfriend? A boyfriend? No photos of Kinjou on his wall? What about that Meisou ace?”
“Nope.” Shinkai looks at him for a moment. “He has a photo of someone on his nightstand, but it’s not of either of them.”
“Who is it then?”
“You can visit his room one day. See for yourself.”
“Like I have time to do that! I barely have time to finish my homework.”
The smaller rabbit twitches his nose and then takes a dump right on Arakita’s leg. Arakita sets them both on the grass. “Get these away from me,” he says.
“Aww,” Shinkai says, tickling their chins, “but they like Uncle Yasutomo so much, don’t you, my precious babies?”
On his way out of Shinkai’s yard, Arakita walks smack into Fukutomi. He automatically extends his arms to push Fukutomi away, like he does with anyone he runs into, but ends up accidentally groping those amazing pecs. They feel as solid as they look when Fukutomi wears the Meisou jersey.
“Hello,” Fukutomi says.
Arakita snatches his hands back. “Why’re you sneaking up like a ninja!” he snaps. “Have you been practicing with Toudou again?!”
“You were the one who wasn’t paying attention,” Fukutomi replies.
“Whatever.” Arakita walks around Fukutomi. He has about two weeks left before he has to return to Yonan. He hasn’t resolved anything yet. Kinjou isn’t going to be pleased.
Arakita pauses in front of his bike, asks, “Fuku-chan, whose photo do you have on your nightstand?”
Fukutomi’s eyebrows climb almost up to his hairline, and then he turns bright red. It’s cute, but Arakita is pissed off and can’t find this as cute as he should.
“Well?” he demands, grabbing Fukutomi by the collar of his polo shirt. “You can’t tell your old friends anything now?”
“Arakita-”
“Whatever! Love is for losers anyway! But I’m glad. You’ll be distracted at the next race, and me and Kinjou will win. You’ll be eating our dust!”
Arakita shoves Fukutomi back, jumps on his bike, and then rides back to his mother’s house.
***
Arakita has regretted, occasionally, not taking the entrance exam for Meisou. He might’ve been accepted, and even though he doesn’t really like any of the programs offered there, he could’ve sucked it up for the sake of being near Fukutomi all the time. They could’ve had adjacent dorms, had breakfast and dinner together, been on the same cycling team again.
The day after the incident with Fukutomi, and after a long, sleepless night, he decides that he is relieved that he doesn’t go to Meisou. In fact, he is going straight back to Yonan today. Fuck Fukutomi and the person in the photograph on his nightstand.
Arakita is packing his shit when he hears one of his sisters yell, “Aniki, you have a visitor!”
Probably Toudou, Arakita thinks, stomping out into the hall. He is in no mood to listen to Toudou talk about Makishima and the beauty of romantic love today. When he reaches the front doors, however, he sees Fukutomi standing on the porch.
Fukutomi is holding a 24-pack carton of Bepsi and is wearing a neatly ironed red shirt. He’s wearing trousers too, even though it’s like 30 degrees Celsius out.
“Where’s your tie, tough guy?” Arakita asks, taking the Bepsi.
“Is he yakuza?” his sister whispers.
“Maybe,” Arakita says.
Fukutomi smiles, and the brat blushes. Arakita pulls the door back farther, saying, “Come inside, Fuku-chan. What are you waiting for, a written invitation?”
“Aniki,” his sister says, smoothening her hair back, “you ought to be nicer to Oyabun.”
“Get lost.”
“Please don’t send my stupid brother to sleep with the fishes,” she says, before going into the kitchen.
Fukutomi says, “Your sister is cute.” He removes his gleaming Oxfords. It’s really too bad, Arakita thinks, that Ma isn’t here to see this.
He replies, “She’s not cute. But you can have her since you like her so much.”
“I’ll trade you my brother for your sister.”
“Was that a joke? Are you making jokes now?”
Fukutomi adjusts his collar. “Arakita,” he begins.
“Forget it, Fuku-chan,” Arakita says. “The summer heat’s getting to me. Sorry for before, yeah? You want anything to eat?”
“Thank you, but I’ve already had lunch,” Fukutomi replies.
His shoulders are tensing up, and he is starting to frown. Arakita says, “Look, you can punch me for earlier, but not here. Come with me.”
He leads Fukutomi to his room. He feels self-conscious for a second or two – his room is a big mess, after all – but then he brushes it off. It’s not like a clean bedroom is going to make Fukutomi look at him in a different way.
“You’re going on a trip?” Fukutomi asks.
Arakita places the Bepsi on the bed. “What? Oh, no, going back to college. Start studying for exams and stuff.”
“Oh.” Fukutomi looks almost like he’s upset, his mouth tightening and his eyes sad. Very odd.
Actually, Fukutomi has been acting odd all summer. He doesn’t usually seek Arakita out unless it’s for training purposes. Arakita is the one who has to invite him to everything that is not related to cycling. Fukutomi is always in his own world, always moving forward with his own goals.
Arakita asks, “Oh, what? Isn’t that what you always tell me to do?”
“We have two weeks of summer break left.”
“Yeah, well we’re not all brilliant like you. Some of us have to study to get good grades. You can sit down, you know.”
Fukutomi walks around the room instead, looks at the bookshelf full of baseball and cycling trophies, looks at the textbooks piled on Arakita’s desk. Arakita opens a can of Bepsi and drinks. Fukutomi has never bought him a whole pack of soda before.
“Your cycling has improved,” Fukutomi remarks.
He pulls out the desk chair and sits down, crosses his arms. This is more familiar, Fukutomi being in captain mode.
Arakita says, “Not by much. You beat both me and Kinjou.”
“No, you have improved. And you will become stronger. And then maybe …” Fukutomi looks out the window. He clears this throat. “Well, I’ve missed riding with you. Maybe we can ride together at Tour de France one day.”
Arakita feels his heart skip a beat. And then all the blood in his body is rushing to his head, flooding his face and ears.
“Fuku-chan,” he says.
Obviously Shinkai was wrong about the photo. Fukutomi probably has a photo of some model on his nightstand and Shinkai misunderstood as usual. Shinkai’s homework was always full of wrong answers.
Fuck this, Arakita thinks, and then climbs onto Fukutomi’s lap, smashes their mouths together. Now his blood is traveling in the opposite direction because Fukutomi has really nice, strong hands, which he’s using to squeeze Arakita’s hips, and then he’s sliding his fingers over his back, and then down to his ass, fuck yeah that’s exactly where Arakita wants them.
“Bed?” Arakita asks. He can come just from sitting on Fukutomi’s hard thighs, but it would be more interesting to go all the way. He wants to ride with Fukutomi at the Tour de France, and he wants to ride Fukutomi every day until then and afterwards.
“Um,” Fukutomi replies.
His hair is sticking out everywhere, and he is flushed all across his high cheekbones. Arakita traces a finger over the bridge of Fukutomi’s nose. He hasn’t felt this hungry for sex in months. Before he can reconsider, he leans down and bites Fukutomi’s right cheekbone.
“Arakita!” Fukutomi protests.
“What?” Arakita licks the bite mark. “You’re not into that?”
“No. No, I mean, maybe? I don’t know.” Fukutomi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“You’re not into guys? Or is this about that other person. On your nightstand. Not cool, Fuku-chan, getting your saliva all over other guys when you’ve already got someone.”
“Arakita.” Fukutomi presses his hands to Arakita’s face. “The photo is of you and me. Remember the one from the first race we won together?”
And now Arakita knows why people do that hand-holding, cuddling shit. It’s probably what they do to manage this feeling, this tightness in the chest. He can’t believe Fukutomi is interested in him. It might not last, it might end painfully, it’s going to hurt worse than injuring his elbow and quitting baseball ever did. But Arakita knows it will be a mistake to not at least try with Fukutomi. He doesn’t want to live the rest of his life regretting this moment. Fukutomi is worth the risk. He’s still here after three years.
Arakita cards his fingers through Fukutomi’s hair, says, “You’re too much, Fuku-chan. You’re a romantic one, huh? So, you wanna take it slow?”
“Well.” Fukutomi kisses Arakita’s ear. “Maybe not too slow.”
***
When Fukutomi appears in front of the clubroom at the end of practice, Kinjou raises his eyebrows. Arakita says, “Relax. He’s here for me. You told me to sort my problems out, right? This is me, sorting them out.” He waves at Fukutomi. “Hey, Fuku-chan! Looking good!”
Fukutomi is wearing his blue sunglasses and a pair of skinny jeans that really flatter his toned thighs and ass. When he kisses Arakita in an alleyway just outside the university grounds, Arakita catches a whiff of cologne layered over the familiar, comfortable smell of bike oil and rubber. Arakita asks, “You want to come back to my apartment after dinner?”
“Yes,” Fukutomi replies. “I would love to. Thank you.”
Fukutomi Juichi is the best guy Arakita knows.