Work Text:
The group hug was such a mess Kakeru barely remembered any of it, and at the same time it felt like every touch and every smile was somehow ingrained into his memory forever.
He only had a brief moment to tighten his hold on Haiji's arm and torso before they were surrounded by their teammates screaming in delight, nearly slamming into them, but thankfully minding Haiji's exhausted and delicate state. Shindo's arm ended up around his own waist, and Yuki was by Haiji's side in an instant, providing extra support. Naturally, the twins' voices were the loudest, but Nico-chan-senpai seemed way more emotional than his usual carefree self as well. Musa was definitely crying— actually, screw that, looked like all of them were, to one extent or another. Kakeru couldn't even speak for himself.
He got so lost in the moment, the overwhelming exhilaration from what they've done taking over him, almost mocking himself from a few months ago when he oh so confidently claimed that Hakone was impossible for them, and he found himself wishing that it lasted forever. He couldn't make sense of his own emotions, except for the part where for the first time in a long, long while, with his teammates screaming and crying around him after earning a seed in Hakone Ekiden despite all the obstacles and uncertainties that plagued them, Kakeru knew that he felt really, really happy.
But it didn't last — at some point during the group hug, after they somehow managed to get all mixed up for an umpteenth time, someone, Kakeru didn't even notice who, apparently stumbled into Haiji's leg, which was still slightly raised in the air, and while Haiji didn't give anything away, Kakeru felt the arm slung across his shoulders tense significantly, and then noticed his senior's clenched fist.
How could he have forgotten?
"Uhm—" Kakeru's throat felt rough, and it was actually difficult to get everyone's attention even if he was in the very middle of their gathering. "We need to get Haiji-san to—"
His voice, for some reason weaker than usual, got lost in everyone's chatter (and some crying), but thankfully someone did notice his concern.
"Oi, Kakeru's trying to speak, you lot!" It was King who snapped everyone back to reality, and Kakeru was really grateful, because suddenly everyone went quiet. He readjusted his hold on Haiji, who seemed to be... slumping down somewhat, but before he could repeat what he tried saying before, Yuki already knew what was going on.
"That's right, we need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible."
"The car’s waiting, so let's get going," Prince noted, and Kakeru could only stare at them with surprise. They somehow already took care of everything.
"The entire team can't leave though," Shindo said, "there are still some formalities left to take care of here."
The twins weren't the ones to hesitate.
"Come on, we can just ditch all the bull—"
"No, you can't," Haiji suddenly cut in, and Kakeru nearly jerked hearing him speak. As weak as he might have been, he still spoke with confidence. "We can't leave any loose ends behind, not after putting in so much effort. Besides, I'm sure some press would like to have a word," he winked at them, but even the ones who were usually excited about some TV coverage didn't seem to care. "I'll make it there just fine, and you need to take care of things here and then go get some rest. I'll contact you as soon as I know—"
"Kakeru, you're going with him," Yuki and Nico-chan-senpai spoke up almost simultaneously, without waiting for Haiji to finish.
"Of course," like hell he was letting Haiji get to a hospital with only one functional leg by himself.
"Hey, I said I'd be fine!" No one looked particularly impressed, so Haiji just sighed. "This is how you listen to your captain," he complained, but without much of a fight. Everyone started fussing around, making sure that they got all their stuff in order and calling a couple of organizers.
Prince shoved Kakeru an extra towel and Haiji's jacket.
"Call us once you know anything," he asked, and Kakeru nodded.
"Guys!" Haiji suddenly called, and everyone stopped in their tracks, forgetting about whatever it was that they were doing. Kakeru wasn't looking at Haiji, but he could tell, just by the tone of his voice, that he was smiling. Then again, Haiji smiled almost all the time, especially when he was talking to the members of his team. "You were incredible today. You're the best team I could've asked for, so thank you," his voice wasn't as strong as he was finishing that line, but Kakeru could also tell that it wasn't for the lack of confidence but rather for the abundance of emotions.
Kakeru, swallowing a lump in his throat, looked around, and he didn't like what he saw — everyone seemed ready to burst into tears again, and he was not that certain about his own mental stability, so he took that as the cue to leave.
"I'll call you," he said, clenched Haiji's arm, pulling it tighter across his shoulders, and then Yuki grabbed Haiji's other arm and helped prop him up as well.
"Call us as soon as you know anything!"
"We'll come visit soon!"
"Get better soon, Haiji-san!"
Get better soon.
Now it was Kakeru's turn to tense up, but he paid no mind to it as he tried to guide Haiji together with Yuki to follow Prince to the car as gently as possible, which was actually far easier when he wasn't supporting his captain by himself.
He knew too well that after this, there was no getting better. And so did Haiji.
* * *
When Haiji was finally in the car, Yuki gave Kakeru a pat on the shoulder and asked him to call once he knew anything, again, even though Kakeru already said he'd do it. But he couldn't really blame anyone, of course they were out of their minds with worry. So Kakeru repeated that he would call, bowed hastily and slid onto the backseat next to Haiji.
"You should stay," was the first thing Kakeru heard, and he wasn't sure if his hearing failed him or something. He turned to Haiji, his brows furrowing.
"What?"
"I'm telling you, I'll be fine on my own, it's not like I'm walking to the hospital," Haiji sounded a bit more annoyed than usual, but still really tired, gently rubbing his knee. "For gods' sake, you've beaten Fujioka today, Kakeru, do you even understand what you did? The 9th section record is yours," Kakeru wasn't even sure how come Haiji already knew that, since he didn't tell him, "you should stay and celebrate. You probably haven't spoken with the reporters yet, have you? It's important for your career, you know, to get noticed at the events like this—"
Haiji was saying some smart things, like he always did, knowing perfectly well how to twist someone's mind into doing whatever he wanted that person to do. Kakeru knew that he couldn't win this argument just by arguing if his life depended on it, not when it was Haiji they were talking about (even if he was kind of out of it after the race), and Kakeru really wished the driver would just start the damn car, but apparently, he heard Haiji as well so he was waiting for them to sort it out. Kakeru panicked for a second, having zero idea of what he could say, and ended up blurting out the first thing that came to his mind:
"Would you stay?"
Haiji stopped massaging his knee and stared at him, squinting. "Huh?"
"Would you stay to talk with the press if someone on the team got injured and had to go to a hospital?"
Kakeru noticed how Haiji's head swayed back just a little bit, his eyes widening, and he just knew that he said the right thing for once. Haiji didn't speak up, hopefully because he understood that they both knew the answer, and the driver finally took the cue and started the car.
* * *
The ride was mostly silent, save for Kakeru awkwardly trying to ask Haiji about his condition, and Haiji fending him off with his standard answers along the lines of "it's fine". It was frustrating, but Kakeru knew he was no good with words, and it wasn't really a good time for practicing, so he left Haiji be after giving him the towel he got from Prince.
Haiji was staring out of the window, looking absolutely calm and collected, the opposite of what Kakeru felt — now that the excitement of the race was gone and he was sitting next to his senior, whose leg was still visibly shaking somewhat, the weight of it started settling down in his stomach, leaving him incredibly conflicted.
The closer they got to the hospital, the worse it got, and when they arrived and Haiji tried leaving the car on his own, without support, and nearly fell over when his knee buckled, thankfully catching himself by the car, Kakeru was pretty sure he himself was on the verge of a heart attack — at least that's what he thought the gnawing ache in his chest was about. He didn't comment on it, stupid as it may have been to go ahead and try walking on your own in this state — he just dashed to Haiji, slung his arm across his shoulders and circled his torso with his free arm, and led him to the entrance.
Judging by the looks of the nurses and a couple of doctors he saw, Haiji had friends even here. Well, that was quite like him, after all. That somewhat calmed Kakeru as he handed his captain to a group of nurses, who quickly wheeled him away somewhere. But the relief didn't last long, because once Haiji was out of his sight, worry came to take its place.
Kakeru waited.
He didn't really keep track of time, couldn't if he wanted to, the events of Hakone Ekiden — they ran Hakone Ekiden — still way too fresh and vivid in his mind. The unbelievable feeling of runner's high, though not quite the one he experienced before, the exhilaration he felt as he kept speeding up, leaving his limits far behind to breathe dust, the sharp stinging of cold air in his lungs and the sound of his own pace keeping him at least somewhat grounded. Kakeru wouldn't usually go all out in a race like this, especially one this long, because it was far too dangerous, but for some reason, today was different. For some reason, having seen his teammates that he kept dismissing as amateurs for so long doing their damnest best, and in the ways Kakeru couldn't be sure even he was capable of, fueled him like nothing ever before.
He thought that if humans could experience flying without taking a plane, this was it.
All of that peaked when he saw Haiji waiting for him to pass the sash at section 10. Of course, they had relays back in high school, but nothing could ever come close to the moment Kakeru crossed the finish line and felt Haiji pulling the sash out of his grip in a swift motion. It seemed as if he left a part of himself in it — they all did, so maybe that's why it felt heavier than a piece of fabric should've been.
Of course, Haiji had to take the heaviest load, like he usually did.
Kakeru's fists clenched on their own. Along with all these happy, incredible moments, he couldn't help thinking about so many other things — the morning doctor, the painkillers, the look in Prince's eyes as he watched Haiji on the phone, the way Yuki's hands seem to shake a little as he struggled to do the necessary calculations as quickly as possible, even though it didn't seem like he cared about numbers at the moment. The tension in the air around the team during the last 3-4 kilometers was so high you could probably cut it with a knife if you wanted to.
When Kakeru heard Haiji scream, for a moment, he forgot that he was at Hakone Ekiden, that his team was about to finish 5th after having a simultaneous start.
All he wanted for that one moment was for Haiji to stop running.
It was selfish, Kakeru figured, and only lasted a moment, but he still couldn't shake the feeling off. While he understood Haiji's aspirations completely and wholeheartedly, admiring his devotion, every athlete had to think ahead of their future. Bitter and frustrating as it might be, sometimes there were battles to be lost, or even avoided, in order to regroup and save your strength for the future. Screw the battles — sometimes you just had to think of the consequences of your heroic deeds and whether you were actually ready to live with them, to suffer through them for that one blissful moment.
Did Haiji really think it through?
Kakeru saw first-hand how happy he looked when he pretty much crashed into him after crossing the finish line — despite being utterly run-down and probably in quite some pain, Haiji was smiling, even more so when they reunited with the whole team. There wasn't an ounce of regret in his eyes, and Kakeru wasn't really sure why he kept thinking about all these stupid what-ifs, why he kept wondering whether this was the right outcome — Kansei with a seed and Haiji with one functional leg.
Maybe Haiji didn't have any regrets (or at least didn't show it), but, looking at the white tile of the hospital floor, Kakeru realized that he couldn't speak for himself.
He rubbed his hair, which was still a bit wet, in frustration, growling quietly at the utter mess inside his own head. However, before he could sink even deeper in this unfortunate existential crisis, he saw a couple of neat shoes in front of him and nearly shot up to his feet, slightly surprising the doctor.
“He’s going to have to stay here for a while, I’m afraid,” the doctor said before Kakeru found it in him to formulate a proper question. “Thank you for bringing him here so fast, Kurahara-kun,” How does he know my name? “the pain medication allowed in competition wasn’t quite enough,” he sighed, rubbing his temple. Kakeru finally closed his mouth, noticing the crease between the doctor’s eyebrows. Seemed like Haiji’s recklessness and limitless devotion was causing trouble not just in the team. “You can visit him if you want, I think he’d like that, knowing him. He always got lonely easily in the hospitals,” the doctor mused, but then suddenly looked at Kakeru with caution, as if he said something he shouldn’t have. “Be careful, though, he’s on stronger painkillers now, those might influence his behavior somewhat, slow him down.”
“And the team?” Kakeru blurted out, every single “Call us when you know anything” shooting up in his head in alarm. The doctor considered for a few seconds.
“Not today, alright? He’s had more than enough excitement. It should be fine tomorrow, but I’ll contact you and let you know. I already got your number from Kiyose-kun,” he added, and Kakeru could only nod at that. It was a bit disappointing that they couldn’t all come and visit today, but he had high hopes for tomorrow. More importantly, he definitely liked this doctor — he seemed to know Haiji and genuinely care about him, and Kakeru felt like he himself could breathe easier knowing that.
“His room is 910, I trust it you’ll find the way? I still have patients to attend to,” Kakeru nodded again, his mind already someplace else, the doctor nodded in return and went his way. A few steps later Kakeru finally got back down to earth, half-screamed, half-rasped a late but genuine “Thank you!” and bowed hastily. The doctor (Kakeru should really ask his name) turned back to him and allowed himself a small smile.
“Just remember that he chose it, Kurahara-kun. Don’t judge him for seizing the happiest moment in his life.”
Kakeru stared at the doctor’s back until he rounded a corner, utterly dumbfounded. He wasn’t that sure what exactly the doctor meant, but the words did strike a chord within him for some reason.
The words could wait, he decided, because Kakeru couldn’t wait any longer — he did way more thinking than necessary in the last couple of hours, and he wasn’t keen on keeping at it. Kakeru wanted to make sure Haiji was alright.
Alright as he could be, anyway.
* * *
The door to Haiji’s room was slightly open, and Kakeru saw him lying down and staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. Before he could change his mind, Kakeru nodded lightly and entered. Haiji’s eyes were instantly on him, widening slightly, and maybe he wasn’t influenced by painkillers as much after all, Kakeru thought. His reaction seemed more or less intact.
“Oh, Kakeru,” Haiji smiled and started propping himself up on the bed, despite Kakeru’s rather frantic attempts at gesturing that it wasn’t necessary. “I thought you already left. Jeez, that examination sure took a while!” Kakeru tensed a little hearing that Haiji didn’t expect him to stay. Maybe he was being overbearing? He really couldn’t tell, especially with Haiji. “Seriously though, you should go to the team and celebrate already! It’ll be very disappointed as your captain if you don’t celebrate this properly, you hear me? Hey, Kakeru?”
Kakeru didn’t know what to say.
He was standing in front of his bed, and seeing Haiji’s knee all wrapped up, Haiji himself paler than usual and with a strange edge to his features, probably because of the pain or the medications for it, Kakeru didn’t know — seeing that and hearing Haiji telling him to go celebrate, he felt like losing it again, like he was so wont to do with people. All the ugly thoughts and nagging what-ifs, the morning painkiller shot, the strange amount of sweat and the tense look on Haiji’s face during the race, his scream, Get better soon, Haiji-san! — everything flooded his mind, leaving it completely blank.
The only thing he did know is that he was in no mood to celebrate.
Haiji sighed.
“Are you going to just keep standing there?” he asked, jerking Kakeru out of the whirlpool of thoughts. Kakeru stared at him, brows slightly furrowed, and Haiji nodded at the chair in the corner of the room. It took him a couple of seconds, but Kakeru collected himself, took the chair, and, after a moment of hesitation, placed it beside Haiji’s bed, next to where he was sitting. He sat down, still tense and not looking back at his senior.
A hand suddenly slapped him on the shoulder full force, and Kakeru looked up to see Haiji smiling at him brightly.
“Man, you were amazing today, Kakeru!” he clapped him on the shoulder a couple of times and kept his hand there. “I knew you’d bring something incredible to the table, but that?! It was insane! The coach thought so too, you know! I had to reassure him that it was just you reaching the level beyond the understanding of us, mortals,” he laughed. “You got yourself some formidable rival in Fujioka now. I’m sure he’s already planning to beat you the next time you guys get to race each other, so you’d better not be relaxing!”
It was too much — somehow, even Haiji’s usual, cheerful attitude, as much as Kakeru enjoyed having it back, as good as it felt to be praised by him, was a bit too much. He was looking him right in the eyes, and yet all he could see was the ugly scar on his knee.
Haiji went silent for a few moments, never taking his hand off Kakeru’s shoulder, but then suddenly squeezed it, and Kakeru found himself focusing on his captain’s face again.
“Remember what I told you before the race? That you’re the best runner to me?” something in Kakeru’s chest fluttered again, just like the first time he heard it, and swelled painfully. “I wasn’t exaggerating, you know. I meant every word.” Haiji smiled gently, patted him on the shoulder once more, and pulled back. Kakeru unwillingly swayed forward a bit, as if to follow his hand.
“I— I’m not really sure what happened,” he admitted, finally finding something to latch on and speak about. He had more important matters to take care of, but that run was a very special experience to him, and he suddenly realized just how much he wanted to share it with someone who could understand. “I barely even remember any of it now, but it felt so different. Like runner’s high, but not quite,” Haiji looked at him with the kind of interest and even excitement that was simply impossible to fake, clearly encouraging him to go on. “Uhm, I— I don’t think I can explain, but I couldn’t really tell my pace, it was as if I kept speeding up almost all the way through, but strength never left me, not until the finish line. That felt…” Kakeru still wasn’t good with words, but this time the necessary one came to mind quickly. “Incredible. Absolutely… incredible,” he finished, looking Haiji in the eyes. His captain was grinning, looking stupidly happy and pleased with himself.
Kakeru might be dense, but it was written all over Haiji’s face in bold letters: I told you so.
I told you so, Kurahara I’m-not-running-Hakone-Ekiden Kakeru.
How Haiji could keep being so insufferable in a hospital bed was beyond Kakeru’s understanding, but he decided it’s best not to comment on that.
“Yeah, we could see that. And I’m glad you enjoyed it so much,” Haiji grinned even wider, and Kakeru finally smiled a bit in return, the already familiar warmth returning to his chest. Thanks to you. “I’m proud of you, Kakeru,” his captain said, and Kakeru’s breath hitched in his throat. He was reminded yet again of just how much he owed to Haiji — the roof above his head, possibly his first decent relationships and, dare he say, friendships, and, most importantly, that unadulterated love to running that he thought he’d lost. Thanks to Haiji’s efforts, despite Kakeru dismissing them so often, it returned to him in an even more beautiful form. There was no Kakeru without running.
He didn’t realize that his mouth was slightly open, as if he wanted to say something, and he hurriedly closed it, earning an amused glance from his captain. It was all fun and jokes to Haiji, it seemed, but just like Kakeru told him in the hotel, he really wanted Haiji to understand just how much what he’s done meant to him. Kakeru had no idea how to express the mess of gratitude and appreciation in his head, so he decided to take it slow and settle on something simple for now, taking a breath, straightening his back and bowing his head.
“Thank you, Haiji-san.”
He kept his head low, expecting something in return, but it was suspiciously quiet. Kakeru wondered if it was too sudden for Haiji, but he felt like he should say it anyway. Just as it was getting too awkward to stay in that position, Kakeru was suddenly pushed back up, gently, and met Haiji’s gaze. Despite the fact that Haiji was clearly worn out, it seemed as if his eyes were sparkling.
“Nothing to thank me for,” he grinned, patting him on the shoulder again and letting go. “I’m the one who should thank you, really. I can only imagine how crazy my plan must’ve seemed to you,” he added, amused, and Kakeru couldn’t hold back a snort.
“Right. The memory of shoplifting after losing all money to mahjong and being chased by a weird guy on a bike with a towel, yelling at me and asking whether I like running — that’s not something you can forget easily,” Kakeru himself was surprised how easily the words slipped from his tongue, and his reward was seeing Haiji laugh out loud in the most ridiculous manner possible. Good thing they weren’t bothering any other patients. Still, seeing Haiji almost doubling over himself, scrunching his face and laughing at the absurd image, a smile found its way to Kakeru’s lips as well. It felt good seeing Haiji like that, it gave the situation some levity.
“God, don’t even remind me, that was something else,” Haiji finally collected his bearings, and then turned to look the window. “It seemed crazy to me as well at times, you know. Especially when I couldn’t find the last person for quite a while. And every time, every time we achieved something, be it Prince’s official record, the qualifier, Shindo conquering the 5th section, and so many other things — every time it felt like a miracle,” he went quiet for a few moments, and then smiled as he seemed to remember something. “Even today, when I crossed the finish line — I thought we didn’t make it,” Haiji closed his eyes for a second, bemused by the idea. “I thought I didn’t make it in time.”
Kakeru’s jaw dropped before Haiji even finished.
“Wha— What do you mean?” he stumbled, his mind reeling. Haiji couldn’t have possibly… “You were so happy when you finished, I thought… I mean, I couldn’t be absolutely sure myself, but I knew the estimates, and I could tell that your pace was enough to cover the gap. I’m sure you could tell as well—”
“I guess my mind just assumed the worst by default,” Haiji shrugged, grimacing a little. “When I felt my knee give out, I lost my bearings for a little while, and I wasn’t even sure if I stumbled or not, if I slowed down or kept going. I barely remember how I made it, which is a bit of a shame,” he snorted. “I heard it from someone on the team when we met them, think it might’ve been Jota? Not sure, there was so much yelling. But anyway, I heard someone celebrating the fact that we got a seed, and I was like, Oh, that’s great!” Haiji laughed at himself, as if he was telling some really weird joke that only he could understand — because Kakeru sure as hell couldn’t, still staring at him as if he grew a second head. He was desperately trying to put the pieces together, and Haiji wasn’t making it any easier for him.
“But… If you thought that you haven’t made it in time,” Kakeru glanced down, trying to focus to get to the bottom of this, but then lifted his head again to ask Haiji about what perplexed him the most, “if you thought you’ve lost, why were you smi—” Kakeru met Haiji’s gentle, knowing gaze, and suddenly grew quiet, his mouth still open. Their conversation from a while ago suddenly popped up in his mind, and just as suddenly everything seemed to make sense.
If Haiji thought he’d lost the “prize”, and yet he was still happy, it meant that it wasn’t the prize he was aiming for.
Haiji wasn’t chasing speed, or rankings, much like he’s told him before. He wasn’t running because he wanted to be fast. It was about something much bigger and much, much more important.
“I was doubting a lot, just like you did,” Haiji’s eyes turned serious, and he kept them on Kakeru. “Not the team though, I never doubted them — mostly myself, I guess,” he smiled weakly. “Whether it was right to push all of you like that, sometimes practically annoy or even threaten you into running,” he raised his hand before Kakeru could object, which he was about to do. “I know, I know, we spoke about it on the train. I understand that if anyone really didn’t want to run, I wouldn’t be able to make them, but… It’s not something I can just stop thinking about either,” he admitted, rubbing his forearm. “You know how they say, even if you don’t think you can win, you must never tell yourself that — and that’s what I did, because if you don’t aim to win, it’s impossible. But it was hard on all of you, and there were many setbacks, and then my knee started acting up after the qualifier. So, when we left all that behind, when we managed to turn the setbacks into our strength, and when I saw all of you being so much stronger than I could ever imagine or be myself — when my knee held up until the finish line, I couldn’t be more grateful. It was the happiest run in my life,” Kakeru wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but Haiji’s voice was starting to sound somewhat off, even though he was still wearing that soft expression on his face that he seemed to always have. “I couldn’t be more grateful, or happier.”
Kakeru was looking at his captain, and he felt as if the pressure he felt in his chest since the end of the race was finally gone.
It was foolish of him to doubt Haiji, not after how much effort he put into making this happen, not after how much devotion he saw from him along with everyone from Aotake. Haiji dedicated four years to this — finding ten people, mostly amateurs when it came to running, training them, feeding them, looking after them, all so that he could share the joy that running is with them, and run Hakone Ekiden. That was a feat everyone, including said team for the first couple of months, thought would be impossible, and yet he put his mind to it, poured his heart into it, and did it. Forget the running part — Kakeru, who wasn’t even that good at reading people, could tell just how much the members of Aotake changed in these months, and to Haiji, who spent much more time with them and was much better at understanding others, it was probably even clearer. He did it. He cared about it, cared about them much more than about his own leg, and he could be truly happy about it, without any regrets at all.
Kakeru admired Fujioka a lot as a runner, but there was never a person in his life he admired as much as Haiji.
He felt like he should say something, even though didn’t know what, but then he was distracted by some movement — Kakeru looked down to see Haiji’s raised hands shaking, and his own hands went cold.
“That’s—”
Haiji looked down too, following Kakeru’s gaze, and he seemed genuinely surprised by what he saw, lifting his hands a bit closer to his face and inspecting them.
“Uhm…” for some reason Haiji seemed just as confused as Kakeru, though not nearly as worried.
“Is it the medications? Are you in pain? I’ll call the doc—” Kakeru was on his feet in an instant, but Haiji’s insistent voice stopped him.
“No! No, it’s fine, Kakeru, I’m telling you, it’s just… My body’s catching up, I guess,” he finished weakly, a mere excuse he didn’t seem to believe in himself. He lowered his hands, which were still shaking kind of badly, as if not sure where to hide them. “It was a pretty exciting day after all,” he breathed out, and no, Kakeru definitely wasn’t imagining things, because Haiji’s voice was clearly off. “Weird, I’m not even that stressed or anything,” he mused quietly, probably only to himself, and then raised his head to look at Kakeru. “You s-should go,” he said, trying to press his hands together to make the trembling stop. “I’ll take care of things here, I promise,” Haiji looked down at his hands again, as if annoyed that he couldn’t control it, and muttered something almost angrily, keeping his head low.
It dawned on Kakeru heavily that Haiji sounded on the verge of tears.
He didn’t know why, couldn’t understand (and it seemed like Haiji himself wasn’t sure either), but he hated seeing Haiji rubbing his hands furiously, trying to stop the shaking in vain. Kakeru realized that maybe Haiji wasn’t that far off from the truth when he said that his body was catching up — he was under a lot of stress today, and probably not just today, yet the only time he ever really saw Haiji buckle under pressure was when his body was exhausted enough for him to fall asleep while cooking. Kakeru couldn’t relate, because he was a much more straightforward person, and while at times he wished he could hold some feelings back, at least he wasn’t prone to bottling them like Haiji.
It must’ve piled up pretty badly, and then there were also the painkillers. He had no idea what kind of “effect” on Haiji’s behavior those could have.
Kakeru felt lost, but he really wanted to give Haiji something to hold to stop the shaking that seemed to be making him upset — before he knew it, he rummaged in his own pockets and pulled out their team sash, that was miraculously there. He didn’t even remember taking it from Haiji, though he supposed he must’ve taken it before handing his captain to the doctors, but it didn’t matter. Before Kakeru could even think it through, he reached out and offered the sash exactly the same way he’d hand it during a race, clenching it tightly on both sides.
Haiji seemed to freeze, though his hands were still trembling, as he stared at the offered piece of fabric, puzzled. Looking at him, Kakeru, to his utter embarrassment, realized that he absolutely had not thought this through. Haiji didn’t even really need anything to hold on to — he had the blanket, for god’s sake, and the sash was still sweaty and dirty. Feeling his cheeks heat up ever so slightly, Kakeru was about to pull back and hide the sash back in his pocket, but Haiji’s soft chuckle stopped him from doing that.
Before he could do anything, Haiji reached out himself, but he didn’t take the sash the way he was supposed to, in the middle — instead he carefully took Kakeru’s hands in his own, gently pulling him down. Kakeru quietly followed and sat back on the edge of the bed. Haiji’s fingers were colder than they should’ve been, colder than they usually were — Haiji himself was a pretty touchy person, unlike Kakeru, so he had plenty of opportunities to know that Haiji’s hands were usually warm. Haiji wasn’t looking at him, his eyes fixed on their hands as he slowly traced over the fabric and Kakeru’s fingers with his own. Kakeru also looked down, as if entranced by the soothing movement. It was weird, because it reminded him of how Haiji would often try to calm him — when he was getting too agitated, when he was holding him back from trying to punch Sakaki, he would often rub Kakeru’s hand or shoulder, and that was actually kind of helpful, as Kakeru later discovered. Only now it seemed that he should’ve been the one comforting Haiji for once, not the other way around.
However, if Haiji’s hands trembling less was anything to go by, it seemed that whatever he was doing was working, and that Kakeru was content with.
Before long the movement became slower, maybe even a bit sluggish, and at some point Haiji stopped, but didn’t let go of Kakeru’s hands. A few moments later Kakeru, still somewhat transfixed by what just transpired, felt that his captain was actually looking at him now instead of the sash, and just as Kakeru was about to lift his head to meet his gaze, Haiji slowly, tiredly slumped forwards, his face landing on Kakeru’s shoulder. Kakeru had to shift closer to accommodate to the sudden change in the sitting arrangement, grabbing Haiji with both arms under one arm and around the other so that he wouldn’t accidentally slip to the side.
He was too worn out, like he should be. The painkillers were also getting to him, no doubt. It was time for Kakeru to leave, though for some reason he didn’t quite feel like leaving Haiji alone in here. He wished the team could come today, then they could—
His shoulder suddenly felt wet, and Kakeru froze.
He swallowed and tried to look at Haiji’s face without moving him much — he could barely see a half of his face, partly hidden in the fabric of his unzipped jacket, but that was enough for him to notice his wet cheeks, where some tears were still rolling down. Haiji seemed asleep, his eyes closed, but his expression was a bit uneasy, as if he was having not a particularly pleasant dream.
Kakeru knew Haiji was far from a stoic person, he took many things close to heart, but it was the first time he saw him actually crying, and it terrified him — not the crying itself, but just how quiet it was.
Haiji wasn’t making a sound.
He was always like that, Kakeru realized. Whenever something was wrong, whenever Haiji needed help, no one would know. No one would even notice — not because they didn’t care, but because Haiji got too good at hiding it. He would make sure that no one noticed, until he simply couldn’t keep up the appearances and collapsed anyway.
Haiji shivered a bit, and Kakeru unconsciously tightened his hold on him, bringing him a bit closer. Haiji was an amazing, incredible person, he changed Kakeru to an unbelievable extent, but some things had to be changed about him, too.
There was a hand on his shoulder before he knew it, and to his own surprise Kakeru was suddenly brought back almost a year ago, when Haiji chased him on the bike and cornered him at the vending machines. Kakeru tried to escape, but it was futile, and in order to ensure that Kakeru was willing to talk to him, Haiji kept his hand on Kakeru’s shoulder the entire time. The conversation, considering that it was their first time seeing each other, was strange at best, but Kakeru couldn’t find it in him to shake the stranger’s hand off for some reason.
Haiji was secretive, especially about his knee issues, and careful with people despite his outgoing nature — and yet he chose to believe in Kakeru literally moments after he met him, the naïve dreamer that he was. Many people were unwilling to put that much faith into Kakeru after years of knowing him, and then there was Haiji.
Kakeru couldn’t imagine how much strength it had to take to believe in him.
He realized that his own breathing was a bit ragged for some reason, as if he just ran a few warm-up laps, and he let his head down without thinking, right into Haiji’s shoulder.
Well, at least not only Kakeru’s shoulder seemed to be wet now.
“You’re strong, Haiji-san,” he blurted out, the most natural thing in the world. Haiji’s breathing slowed down, as if he was taking the words in. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
Haiji was suspiciously quiet for a while, but then he seemed to snort in his shoulder, and Kakeru’s head shot up.
“I mean it!”
“No, I… I hear that, Kakeru,” Haiji replied, his voice really sluggish and a little wet with tears, which was the weirdest thing to hear. “You just speak like Kazuma.”
Well, that completely made sense. Kakeru was almost grateful for this reaction, because his own feelings were a complete mess, and he couldn’t predict how he’d react at anything else.
“That’s because we know what we’re talking about,” Kakeru said, patting his back and pulling him up a bit, “and that means you should listen for once.”
“I should never have introduced you to each other,” Haiji grunted as he pushed himself off of Kakeru’s shoulder, mumbling something along the lines of “sorry about that”, which Kakeru waved off. He kept a steadying hand on Haiji’s arm just in case, because he really looked like he could fall asleep at any given moment.
Kakeru cleared his throat and quickly wiped his face with his free hand.
“You should rest,” he said, pushing Haiji down. He half-expected him to object, because Haiji really didn’t like to be fussed over in any way at all, but it was probably thanks to his tiredness that he went down on the pillow without a fight. “We’ll all come to visit tomorrow,” he added, pulling the blanket up on this captain’s shoulders.
“You’d better,” Haiji mumbled, opening his eyes slightly to look at him. “I’ll haunt you in your sleep if you don’t. All of you.”
“We wouldn’t risk that happening,” Kakeru snorted softly, bowing. “Rest well, Haiji-san,” he gave Haiji the last glance, making sure he seemed alright, and turned to leave.
“Kakeru.”
He turned back immediately to see Haiji reaching out with one hand, holding up the sash he’d foolishly completely forgotten about.
“Oh,” he muttered, stepping forwards and taking it from Haiji’s hand. He noticed that it wasn’t trembling anymore.
“Thanks,” Haiji said, voice so thick with emotion it didn’t seem that he was talking about the sash. He was looking right at him with a strange amount of gratitude and something that looked almost like pride, which puzzled Kakeru. He allowed himself a small smile back, not sure what Haiji had to thank him for, bowed again and turned to leave. Only once he was out of the room he allowed himself to turn back, looking at Haiji through the door he deliberately left slightly open. Haiji was looking at the ceiling with a really weird smile, and he was still crying — but it seemed… different.
He looked happy.
Kakeru headed for the first floor deep in thought. Haiji seemed no longer that stressed out or in pain, so why was he still crying? Did something Kakeru has said really make him that happy? His words tended to have the opposite effect on people, but it was nice for a change, he decided. Maybe reading so much with Prince and actually interacting with people was bearing some fruit too.
A phone buzzed in his pocket, and Kakeru stopped walking to fish it out. When he touched it, however, he felt that it wasn’t his own phone, which was silent. Frowning, he reached further into pocket and picked up the phone — Haiji’s, he realized. He didn’t remember how exactly it ended up being in his pocket, but he probably took it for safekeeping at some point before Haiji was led away by the doctors.
The screen said “Mother”.
Now, Kakeru was far from the type to answer someone’s phone calls, but he figured that Haiji probably hasn’t contacted his parents yet — while they certainly must’ve seen him on TV, and were bound to be worried out of their minds. Some part of Kakeru hoped so, anyway, because he didn’t know much about Haiji’s family, having only heard a bit about his strained relationships with his father. Still, he decided that he had to at least shed some light on Haiji’s condition.
Right as he hit the answer button it hit him that he actually had very little idea about Haiji’s condition, and he almost cursed right in the speaker.
“Haiji? Haiji, can you hear me? Just tell me how bad it is, Haiji,” Kakeru was bombarded with questions — the woman was clearly restless and worried, though from the way she talked Kakeru guessed that Haiji must have not been secretive only with his teammates. “Haiji?”
“Uhm,” he cleared his throat quickly. “I’m not Haiji, Kiyose-san,” he offered politely, and when the woman seemed too surprised to answer, he continued. “I’m Kurahara Kakeru, his teammate,” Kakeru turned around and started slowly making his way back to the elevator so that he could return the phone once he’s done speaking.
“Oh,” she replied, taking a couple of moments to collect her thoughts. “I see. It’s nice to meet you, Kurahara-kun, but I’d like to speak with my son. Could you…” she faltered, probably realizing that there must’ve been a good reason why said son couldn’t pick up the phone himself.
“He’s asleep,” Kakeru said quickly, trying to reassure her. “He finally fell asleep not so long ago. I’d rather not wake him up yet, it took him some time to settle down. If you wouldn’t mind, of course,” he added hastily, testing the waters. He was trying his best to be careful, not quite liking the idea of speaking with Haiji’s parents behind his back.
“I see,” she repeated, disappointed. “No, let him sleep, Kurahara-kun. But do you know anything about the damage? Did he say anything to you?” the tone of her voice when she asked it was thick with doubt, much like Kakeru suspected earlier.
“No, Kiyose-san, I’m sorry,” he told her, feeling a bit angry with himself. Even when Haiji was that battered he somehow managed to sidestep the most important topic through their entire conversation, although Kakeru imagined hundreds of ways to ask him about it when he was waiting for the examination to be over. “But I’ll make sure he calls you back as soon as possible,” Kakeru felt pathetic saying that, but it was all he could do at the moment. Haiji’s mother kept quiet, and then sighed.
“Thank you, Kurahara-kun. For staying with him, too,” she did sound a bit relieved, even though she probably cried earlier. “He’s gotten himself a good team now, I see,” there was some strange bitterness and longing in her voice that made Kakeru feel a bit sorry for her. He wondered just what was Haiji’s relationship with his mother. “Oh…” there was some shuffling and muffled voices on the other end, and Kakeru realized he was almost at the room, so he stopped in the hall, straining his ear. “Wait a second, Kurahara-kun.”
There was a bit more shuffling, and then another voice suddenly spoke.
“Kurahara Kakeru? Section 9?” he heard, and it took Kakeru almost no time to realize that it was Haiji’s father. Not even because the voice clearly belonged to a man, and it was the most natural conclusion, but rather from how he addressed him — naming the section that he’s run in the Ekiden. People were runners or non-runners to him, and he probably categorized them by their times, too. Good thing it was a phone call, Kakeru thought, because he couldn’t hold back a cringe.
“Yes… Kiyose-san,” he wasn’t sure how to address Haiji’s father and couldn’t come up with anything better, so he just went with the surname again, hoping it’d pass, but whatever the case, the man didn’t seem to care. The line went silent again, Kakeru could just barely make out his breathing, which seemed a tiny bit too fast for normal. He was just about to ruin the silence that was growing overbearing, when Haiji’s father suddenly spoke again.
“Tell him…” now his voice sounded somewhat off to, and Kakeru squinted. The man cleared his throat with a bit more force than necessary. “Tell him that he’d better not be relaxing,” Kakeru frowned, because Couldn’t you really come up with something better, but then Haiji’s father added: “He’s strong, so he’d better not be relaxing.”
Oh.
Kakeru tilted his head back a bit, suppressing a small smile. Haiji and his father might not see eye to eye, but there was a least something Kakeru could agree with the man on. As much as he somewhat resented the man for putting his son through this, there was a naïve part of him that had some hopes left — if anything, Haiji deserved a loving family. Maybe it wasn’t as broken after all.
Nevertheless, this wasn’t even the start of it.
“I already did,” Kakeru said slowly, trying to find a better way to phrase it, “but you should tell him that too, by yourself. He… Haiji-san needs to hear that more often than you think.”
Haiji’s father did not react at all, but there was nothing to indicate that he was appalled by the idea either. The line went dead after a few moments, and Kakeru frowned, slightly annoyed. Well, he hoped the man at least gave his words some consideration.
* * *
The rest of the day was a blur. Kakeru ran all the way back to the hotel, despite the fact that it was not the smartest thing to do after running a long race — he just couldn’t imagine sitting on a train with his state of mind. He knew he should’ve probably called the team earlier, but he needed some time to collect his thoughts, and running helped greatly with that. Thankfully, their hotel happened to be close enough for his exhausted muscles to bear the extra run, and he was back before it got dark.
As he expected, everyone was waiting for him, and there weren’t any signs of a celebration going on. He explained what little he could, expecting to be berated by Yuki for not getting them any proper information on Haiji’s condition, but his senpai only sighed, apparently having seen that coming. He’s known Haiji for quite a while after all. They decided to wait for a call from the doctor without anyone leaving the hotel for long so that they could quickly go to the hospital once they were allowed to.
Some of his teammates congratulated Kakeru on his record again, quietly and with some lack of the usual enthusiasm but sincerely, and Kakeru thanked them, quickly vanishing into his room. He wanted to tell his teammates so many, so many things, but his mind was a mess, and he didn’t feel like doing it without Haiji around anyway. It seemed that everyone somehow agreed on that.
Despite the rollercoaster of a day setting his nerves on fire, Kakeru fell asleep almost immediately after showering and making it back to his room, finally giving in to the piled-up exhaustion.
His mind was fuzzy when he woke up, and yet Kakeru definitely remembered not setting up any alarms. He rubbed his face, yawning and trying to make sense of why on earth he was already awake, when the events of yesterday hit him full-force, causing him to drop his hands back on the sheets.
The phone said 6:13, but Kakeru’s swarming thoughts were merciless, refusing to let him fall back asleep and just stop thinking. Sighing, he got out of bed, stretching his now properly aching muscles, and resigned himself to the only remedy that would actually help — a morning jog.
Once again, probably not his best idea after running half a marathon, but Kakeru decided he’d keep it short and easy.
The change to the usual running gear felt nice, almost welcoming after the tension of competition. Kakeru was walking down the stairs, trying to come up with a route on his phone, when he almost stumbled into someone by the door.
“Oh, I’m sorry— Prince?” he asked in disbelief and almost winced at his senpai’s offended and almost equally shocked look.
“Good morning to you too,” Prince muttered, and Kakeru bowed his head a bit as a late greeting. “What are you doing up so early?” he asked, zipping his jersey—
“Are you going for a run?” Kakeru asked, belatedly realized that he really should’ve kept some surprise out of his voice when he earned another unimpressed look from his senior.
“Of course not!” Prince denied, his eyes darting to the sides. “Just out for a morning walk.”
“In full training gear?” Kakeru tilted his head to the side a bit, trying to remember whether he ever saw Prince wearing his running gear anywhere but the training session.
“Oh, be quiet,” Prince sighed, going out and holding the door open for Kakeru, who quickly followed. “…do you know any local routes?”
“…no. Not yet, anyway.”
“I know one. Figured it out yesterday while we were waiting for you,” he continued, not meeting Kakeru’s eyes. “I can show you if you want. Although, it’s probably a pain for you to match my pace.”
“N-No, of course not!” Kakeru exclaimed, his head lowkey spinning from what was happening. “But first… can I ask you something?”
Prince eyed him for a moment before saying, “Go ahead.”
“Why are you running the morning after you’ve just run Hakone Ekiden? I thought you said you don’t want to run anymore,” Kakeru mused, watching Prince’s face closely (not that it helped him much).
“I’ve run my part two days ago,” Prince corrected him, but when he realized Kakeru was still waiting for a proper answer, he sighed again. “I don’t know. Is that an acceptable answer? Whatever the case, I truly don’t, I…” To his surprise, Kakeru realized that Prince wasn’t exaggerating, and he did seem a bit lost. “I just felt like it.”
Kakeru desperately hoped he wasn’t staring, but the feeling of warmth in his chest was absolutely worth it.
“Don’t you give me that stupid smile of yours!” Prince whined, and Kakeru tilted his head back in surprise. He didn’t even realize he was smiling. “Let’s just go already, but feel free to run ahead if you want to. Are you even alright, doing it straight after the race?”
“Totally fine,” Kakeru replied, starting to stretch and silently urging Prince to do the same, which he did, shaking his head.
“I knew that you’re not human, knew it from the start.”
They finished the stretching in pleasant silence, and then Prince led the way.
Matching his pace wasn’t difficult at all, and it wasn’t just because Kakeru still hasn’t recovered enough — it simply felt nice to run with someone by his side, especially someone from his team. They weren’t talking, but Kakeru still wasn’t really thinking about anything, and his head and heart felt light in the best way possible.
“Oh.”
Prince suddenly stopped, and Kakeru ran a few more steps further before noticing and turning back to see what it was about.
“Good morning, Kakeru, Prince-san!” Musa was waving to them from another street, quickly closing the distance. “You’re running as well! Can I join you?”
“Yeah, sure,” Prince said, gesturing for him to follow. He knew Kakeru wouldn’t mind, and of course Kakeru didn’t, nodding in greeting and going back to running, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a little puzzled.
He didn’t expect to see anyone awake this early today — he certainly didn’t expect to see anyone running today.
His expectations kept being thwarted, however, as they slowly but surely picked up the rest of their teammates from the area, all of them out on their morning jogs. Only the twins were together from the start, waving at them excitedly and racing to join. The biggest surprise was probably Yuki — not even because of his character, but because his sneakers were quite battered after the race, and Kakeru had no idea when he had the time to find some new ones, but he already did.
They ended up changing their initial course and running to some river bank that wasn’t too far from the hotel, keeping close together.
Kakeru was running in the back, watching them and marveling at what he was seeing, marveling at what they managed to accomplish, marveling at how Haiji managed to change these people — and how they all managed to change each other.
Kakeru realized that even though they didn’t have a proper post-race conversation yet, perhaps they didn’t really need it. He felt that by doing this, they were saying everything that there was to say.
He usually hated seeing backs in front of him when he was running, because they belonged to the people he had to overcome, but seeing his teammates’ running forms, he felt strangely at peace. It was a new, unfamiliar feeling, but Kakeru quickly decided that he could live with it.
Haiji might’ve been missing from the moment, but Kakeru could tell that he was very much with them. And for what it’s worth, he knew his teammates felt the same.
Kakeru breathed in deeply, feeling the air become more humid as they were getting closer to the river. He heard some friendly chatter in front of him, noticed Yuki slapping King lightly in the back of his head, and Shindo clapping Musa’s shoulder. Prince looked back at him, and Kakeru wondered for a moment what was that soft look in his eyes all about.
The ache in his muscles subsided as the chatter grew even louder, and he almost heard Haiji’s Almost there! from the front of the group.
Kakeru smiled to himself.
I really do love running.