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Solstice (n.) : either of the two times in the year when the sun reaches its highest or lowest point in the sky, marked by the longest and shortest days; elevation or height

Miyata Ichiro is a man who tries to live free of regrets. 

In particular, free from regretting missed actions that cowardice and pride won’t easily allow, but in the end, leave a bitter sense that they were things he should have done. It’s that philosophy combined with a natural stubbornness that makes him push himself to the point of exhaustion just to stay in a weight class his body knows he doesn’t belong in. The same driving force that would risk his career on a counter that could go wrong with a misstep or an unanticipated lucky punch. The spirit to never have regrets has been ingrained in his mind for as long as he can remember but it’s hardly an ideal that he came to on his own. For that, he had his father to thank. 

Miyata had very few reasons to like the summertime. That perspective began to gradually shift over the years since it was around that period he became acquainted with Makunouchi, but nevertheless, summer was hardly a pleasant season. The blazing sun made training a hellish experience and the sweltering heat brought on foul memories. 

The summer of 1980 was especially unforgiving. It’s shameful that precisely because he’s an outboxer, he’ll never forget it. 

While a stranger to the world of boxing could argue it was a culmination of damage from the fight that changed the OPBF belt from one hand to the next, it was common knowledge that a single punch took away everything in that season. A punch that marked the death of Miyata’s hero and the final act on the part of his father’s life that was all too entangled in his public image. But, it was something reporters seemed to overlook at the time. Highly unlikely the media avoided the conversation out of respect for privacy when Miyata could recall the flashes of camera lights in his direction, all in attempts to capture the shock of loss written on a child’s face. It wasn’t broadcast simply because they didn’t know. Not that they needed to in the first place but it made the defeat heavier. Suffocating. Personal. 

No matter what, in the end, you must act. Always. 

Miyata liked to believe that his father did just that. The bloodstained canvas of the ring and clenched fists grasping at hospital bed sheets were enough to prove his resolve. And yet, that determination that shined with clarity on the world stage was staggeringly absent at home. The house itself was rather quiet after the match as Ichiro found himself with nowhere else to go but a critical care unit that housed a man he could recognize as his idol in appearance but not in attitude. While walking through the busy hallways and taking in the stuffy atmosphere of the floor, he wondered about the unspoken words between his mother and father. How much weight did they carry in their hearts when she walked out of his life? Could something have changed? 

The tension made air stifling in the summer and despite his father’s physical recovery improving quicker than expected, the aftermath created some of the most grueling days of the young boy’s life, passing interminably so. His father never mentioned her. And experiencing the viscal anger of his father’s tone time and time again after mentioning her disappearance, Miyata learned not to mention her either. But that never stopped him from waiting for someone who wouldn’t return. For thinking about something that didn’t have to end.

When Miyata was younger, he often had dreams about his father’s subsequent hospitalization that summer night and all of the blending days that painted the longest months of his childhood. If his father reached for his mother’s hand one last time before that match, once more before he’d lose everything, would she still be here? Would his father have found some kind of light to pull them out sooner, before he learned to sweep his feelings behind jaded eyes and pick up ideals from a man who couldn’t hold onto them anymore?

But these were hypotheticals of the past. The unrelenting heat of those seasons died a long time ago. In fact, where Miyata was now, fresh snow lay at his feet as the year was coming to an end. For now, what only mattered was never letting any opportunities go, in any aspect. In every aspect. Even the ones that you can’t fight with your fists but can only settle with something deeper. 

Never let an opportunity pass you by, lest you have regrets. And you should never live with regrets. In telling himself that for more times than he could count, he figured he’d regret not speaking to Makunouchi during the holiday season, even if he couldn’t really determine why. Not a particularly sociable person, the outboxer could at least understand that he’d regret the loneliness of not being able to share in the festivities with anyone. He was far too awkward to seek out the company of others at Kawahara Gym but he was also too prideful to succumb to staying in an empty apartment by himself. Fresh from another tough but successful title defense, he did want some kind of break but that still didn’t answer the question of why he wanted it to be with someone he swore to fight. More often than not, in the few times he’d see him in person, dealing with Makunouchi was difficult. 

It was easy all the same.

Of course, he wasn’t expecting Ippo to say no. He didn’t. But what did happen that was unexpected was how he hesitated over the phone. The slight tremble in his voice. A pause that made Miyata question the landline connection. Repeated asking if it was actually okay for them to meet. Simultaneously annoying yet charming in his own right. There is something about Makunouchi that’s sweet and innocent. It’s hard to believe he’s the strongest man in Japan, Featherweight Champion but incredibly shy outside of the ring. Painfully nervous on occasion and still, you can’t help but want to help him. You want to tell him everything is okay and that he deserves to carry more confidence than he allows himself to have. But it’s a shame Ippo’s anxiety can be contagious. 

A week passes since they confirmed a day to spend together and Miyata cursed himself for his own mentality. Because living without regrets meant that he was also the type to finish whatever he starts. And it wasn’t like he could cancel on Ippo now. He wouldn’t be able to deal with being so fickle to someone so kind and the poor boy would hate him for that. Except that’s the thing. He wouldn’t hate him. Makunouchi would probably blame himself. Which would make things worse. 

Oddly enough, Miyata didn’t have to think much about canceling plans. Seemed like Ippo did that for him. 

“I’m so sorry Miyata-kun! I made plans and totally forgot about them! I know we were looking forward to it and all but..”

His mind drifted with each apology Ippo mumbled into the phone, thinking about something that bothered him ever since he met Makunouchi. The question of fate and its existence. Miyata never really believed in fate until that day they sparred in Kamogawa Gym. And it was at this moment that he figured that if fate was real, maybe certain things weren’t meant to be. 

“I wouldn’t mind if we could reschedule. If that’s al-alright with you of course!” 

Maybe he shouldn't give up so easily. 

“In that case, how’s next Tuesday?”

“Ah it looks like I’m supposed to help my mom out at home that day sorry! But Friday is fine!”

“No good. Training day.”

“That’s impressive but you had a match not too long ago! Shouldn’t you rest?”

The concern behind Makunocuhi’s question was cute but wholly unnecessary. 

“I’m not the one training. New guys at the gym want to work on their techniques. I suppose you could say it’s more of a coaching day for me.” 

“That’s so cool! Even when you’re on break you’re as helpful and hardworking as ever!”

“It's nothing really, besides…” 

I could say the same thing about you. 

Enough banter passed for the two boys to decide on a day that would work well to chat in person. It just so happened that the best available time was a few hours well into New Year’s Eve. Miyata didn’t particularly mind as it wasn’t like he had plans for the occasion. He rarely did. But Makunouchi was different. His house was one rooted in familial traditions of celebration from what Miyata could gather. How quaint. 

When he declined Ippo’s invitation to experience the countdown with the boy’s mother, Umezawa, and other fishermen that frequented the nearby dock, he felt a twinge of guilt shoot through his core. Perhaps it was the price of being so emotionally distant. He moved out of his father’s house years ago but that didn’t negate the fact that the old man was the only family he had. They didn’t always get along, but as his son, Miyata did care about him. Even if he wasn’t good at it, he could at least start acting like it. At least for one day. For one less regret. 

This meant that whatever he needed to say to Makunouchi, he didn’t have much time to get it right. His hand shook as he hung up the phone, fingers trembling under the gravity of the situation. A coy smile peaked underneath the shadow of his bangs. This was fine. The counter prince never backed away from any challenge thrown his way. In fact, Miyata liked to believe he performs well under pressure. This would be no exception. 

Somewhere, years ago in a nearly forgotten book, Miyata read a passage that claimed time is one of man’s worst enemies. Back then he couldn’t agree more. Days moved too slowly, beyond any sense of comfort and into the mundane. Choosing not to talk about his own ennui certainly didn’t help. Boxing was a crutch turned life purpose that had its own pitfalls. Relying on a counter strategy meant relying on your ability to read openings and time your  movement with extreme precision. For awhile, it asked for Miyata’s dwindling patience but stronger opponents demanded lighting speed. Blink and you miss your chance. Falter and you end up hurt. This was his new relationship with time and his ability to adapt in most settings didn’t make the task any less daunting. 

That feeling was creeping in now. The feeling that time is running out. 

For someone obsessed with handling any kind of issue flawlessly, Miyata had to admit that his reaction to seeing his rival at the beginning of the evening was a terribly clumsy one. For starters, Makunouchi arrived at the meeting place, an unassuming family owned café, earlier than Miyata, who was already about 15 minutes ahead of schedule. He dressed nice enough, donning an emerald blazer over his button up and tie that was possibly tied a little too tight. Loosening a button might be more comfortable but it was at this point Miyata realized he was so preoccupied with staring at Makunouchi that he failed to greet him properly. It’s nice to know that didn’t bother Ippo or if it did, his cheery demeanor didn’t show it. 

But, it sure was weird that he had been standing outside the entrance for who knows how long empty handed. If Makunouchi had been here for awhile, which Miyata hoped he wasn’t waiting like that, why didn’t he order something in advance? Just a small thing? Like some kind of warm drink to fight off the frigid winter air that had to be cold without gloves. He felt a strange urge to scold Ippo for not taking better care of himself but restrained. This was fine. This was an opportunity to buy his rival a drink, plain and simple. 

Except it wasn’t that simple because apparently trying to treat Makunouchi to anything has to be comparable to pulling teeth. 

Miyata learned that Ippo likes hot chocolate with marshmallows but that Ippo also really didn’t like people paying for him. So much so that when he figured out Miyata didn’t in fact order two drinks for himself, he immediately threw the cost of what he wanted into the tray, startling the barista. Miyata frowned. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying his best not to be annoyed. 

“Miyata-kun, I know you’re being nice but I have money!! I can pay for myself!” Miyata sharpened his gaze. 

“I know you can,” he said reaching into the tray to take the money out and replace it with his own. “But I can do this too. So just let me okay.”

“But you don’t have to!!” Ippo protested, trying to slide his coins across the counter to no avail. Miyata slid in front of Ippo in an attempt to block him off, nodding at the barista to process his change. A quick glance in his peripheral vision revealed an embarrassed face on the verge of sulking. 

“Miyata-kun you don’t have to pay for me! Honestly it’s fine!”

“I know. But I want to do this.”

“That’s so kind of you but you really shouldn’t! I feel like I’m being a burden and-“

“Shut up and let me do something for you!” Miyata snapped. Because that’s how you talk to people that you want to help. People that, for whatever reason, feel indebted to you. 

He was terrible at this. 

The silence that transpired after that moment didn’t last for long once the latte and hot chocolate arrived at their booth. Small talk was hardly Miyata’s forte but he did his best to engage despite his mind slipping into other thoughts. Like Makunouchi’s little speech mannerisms. There was a specific way the young man’s eyes would light up in the midst of a conversation, as if they were given energy just from the interaction alone. His voice matched the same passion, wavering every now and then with some kind of uncertainty but overall brimming with excitement. It was strange. Miyata felt like he could listen to him talk about paint drying and still want to hear how he’d say every word.

Makunouchi could make the most boring things seem fun. Like fishing for instance. Although Miyata liked to act as if he had a novice understanding of what belongs in a tackle box and where the most lucrative spots are in the sea, frankly he didn’t do enough fishing in his free time to know or to care. But Makunouchi does. And that was enough. 

At some point in the discussion, Ippo raised his mug to his lips a little too quickly and Miyata couldn’t help but notice the red tinge on his cheeks from burning his tongue, apologies for almost letting out a curse filling the air. It was fascinating how polite he always was, quick to correct something that didn’t need to be fixed. Yes, he was fascinating. But that wasn’t the only thing Miyata noticed at the time. 

Makunouchi had said seemingly a lot after their drinks arrived but at the same time, he couldn’t really remember a word he said. 

That’s when the static kicked in. 

Even though he wanted to talk, Miyata’s mind went blank. He was so caught up in small details that he didn’t have any clue on what to say. After all, he really was so surprised just seeing Makunouchi again. Not in the ring, like they promised. Not during roadwork, where Miyata would pretend that he didn’t see him. Not on the sidelines of a match, secretly wishing they were the ones facing off. 

He glanced down at his latte. It will surely be cold soon. 

Maybe the matcha would help him wake up.  

This was surreal. He really didn’t have any words. Fortunately, Ippo filled the empty air with chatter once again but Miyata had a hard time focusing on any points of conversation until they both finished their cups and he realized they’d have to move on. Ippo looked happy enough but Miyata was sure that had enough consciousness to know something was off. 

Time was running out and he had accomplished nothing. 

Miyata traced along the rim of his mug with a finger, trying his best to ground himself and pay attention when Ippo spoke up rather inquisitively.

“Miyata-kun, do you, um…” Makunouchi stuttered, working towards a question.

“Do you want to go outside?” 

The tracing finger paused. 

“Huh? Outside?”

Miyata peered at the frosty window adjacent to their seating, snowflakes sticking to the pane. 

“But..it’s snowing outside.” Miyata murmured, unsure of why Makunouchi would ask him something like that. 

“Yeah I know but you seem kinda dazed and um... It’s um, kinda stuffy in here don’t you think?...I thought you could get some fresh air!”

“Fresh air….” Miyata repeated, thinking about the suggestion. It very well could help him organize his thoughts. Moreover, this meant Makunouchi was giving him a second chance at social redemption. Another opportunity since he handled the first one so poorly.  The choice was obvious. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

----

Much like taking slow, deep breaths before a match begins, Miyata often finds it hard to quiet a racing mind. 

It’s hard to find a comfortable rhythm, to stop your fingers from trembling and an unwanted sense of unease from taking over. But every now and then, there’s a gentle pat on the shoulder that centers the discomfort. A word or two that pulls a man out of lamenting the past or worrying about the future, grounding him into the present. It works like the kind of chamomile tea Miyata drinks on the long nights of tossing and turning in a bed that doesn’t always welcome sleep. It’s gradual but effective. 

The snowflakes dusting his face and peacoat became his clarity. 

Maybe Makunouchi knew that the price of clarity was silence. He didn’t say much aside from comments about decorative lights in town, and how much he wanted to play in the snow as a child while they walked away from the hustle and bustle of the city towards the riverbank. The water was frozen solid but Miyata couldn’t tell if the layer of ice on top was particularly too thin to say, walk across without falling in. 

He wondered about something so strange only because Makunouchi had apparently never been ice skating before. Never had anyone to go with in the past and now the issue was he didn’t have anyone to teach him. As friendly as they all were with each other, Makunouchi admitted that he didn’t exactly trust Takamura, Kimura, or Aoki to show him anything on the ice. Miyata couldn’t help but raise a hand to his mouth in a poor effort to hide his own laughter. He couldn’t blame him. 

When Miyata trained at Kamogawa gym during the winter season, he never wanted to skate with them either but that never reduced how much he did enjoy skating in general. He couldn’t remember when he started or why but moving on the ice came as naturally as timing counters for him. Perhaps it was his sense of balance, or the graceful footwork that solidified his outboxing techniques. Regardless, he liked it. He certainly didn’t have the time or skills to pursue it professionally, but he could execute basic crossovers and spins well enough. He once even taught himself how to do a double jump years ago, purely to spite a young Kimura that told him he couldn’t. 

If Miyata wasn’t so dedicated to boxing, he probably would have become a figure skater which seemed exciting but he was generally happy with the world he’s chosen. He couldn’t have accomplished everything he had without boxing. Probably wouldn’t have met the same influential people. 

As Miyata looked at the riverbank he realized that he might not have met Makunouchi otherwise.

 And that was something he didn’t like to think about. 

Instead he’d think about picking a day to teach Ippo how to skate. After all, he muttered the offer in a silly mistake of thinking out loud, and he couldn’t go back on his word. Makunouchi seemed pleased enough, asking about how he learned and what he knew but Miyata figured he’d keep his figure skating talents a secret. For now anyway. 

Soon enough, the conversation about the ice dissipated and just when the comfort sat in, Miyata could feel his focus steadily sliding away again. As he mentally searched for some kind of way to remain present, Makunouchi cleared his throat. 

“You know, it’s kind of funny,” Makunouchi started, fidgeting with his hands, maybe in an attempt to warm them Miyata assumed. Wordlessly, he looked at the shorter man to wait for him to continue. 

“Kumi-san asked if she could see me today actually.” 

As if in synch, both of them finally stopped their stroll along the riverside.

What a strange thing to say at a time like this.

Like clockwork, the gears in the outboxer’s mind started turning again. 

“You should have told me you had a date,” Miyata said, tone a little harsher than he intended. Makunouchi shook his head. “But you asked me first so it’s only fair that I’m here right now!” he insisted. Miyata crossed his arms, not entirely sure how to interpret that. Needless to say, like most things he was skeptical of, he felt inclined to challenge the idea. 

“But you like her. Seems kinda stupid that you’re giving up a chance to be with her on a day like this.” Much to Miyata’s surprise, a tinge of pink crept across Makunouchi’s cheeks.

“Well I do like Kumi-san but…” he trailed off.

I like you too.   

Miyata guessed those were the words Ippo wanted to say but couldn’t. He hoped those were the words Ippo wanted to say but couldn’t. 

Something about hearing her name made him irritable. But he couldn’t trace back why. He also wasn’t sure why there was some kind of sullenness in Makunouchi’s face. The light in the infighter's eyes that Miyata always coveted was fading away but that didn’t make any sense.

He could’ve sworn he was crazy about her. More so than him. 

“Sometimes I worry that we have nothing in common to talk about,” Makunouchi said, intensely watching the snowflakes cover an outstretched hand and fall through his fingers. Miyata couldn’t tell if he was trying to catch them or just wanted to see them melt away. “It’s nice but...I don’t think she gets the things I really care about.”

“Like boxing?” Miyata asked, without even thinking. He could hear Makunochi laugh nervously. “Well, I don’t want to think that boxing is the only thing but-”

“It’s a large part of your life,” Miyata added. Ippo balled his hand into a fist, smiling feebly. 

“It is. And I’m sure you know that more than anyone. In fact,” Makunouchi said, turning to look at Miyata once again. 

“You’re a big part of my life too.”

The outboxer’s face flushed crimson as he frowned, feinting a form of disgust that didn’t exactly mirror what he felt. He couldn’t say he was shocked. Ippo said things like this about him all the time. It was just some weird part of his personality. A trait of his signature kindness. 

The frequency didn’t make it any easier to process. 

See, the issue is that the words Ippo says never seem generic. Even now, he could tell they were genuine, that he was serious. He never knew Makunochi to lie. But he did know him to get flustered after saying something so bold. Tonight made no exception as Makunuchi flailed about, swatting away falling snow and the tension looming in the air with both hands. 

“I-I mean because of boxing you know!! It’s true- You inspire me so much and you’re like a really important goal to me! But more than that too of course and- oh God, please don’t take that the wrong way okay??!!” he stuttered, words moving a mile a minute. He looks like a mess , Miyata thought to himself. He could feel his own irritability festering in the pit of his stomach. 

What a pointless thing for Makunouchi to say. 

He could feel himself becoming cranky for an unknown reason. He didn’t want to blame Ippo but he wasn’t pissed off before he spoke just now. He didn’t think so anyway.  

“But um about Kumi-san ...if you don’t mind?” Makunouchi mumbled, seeming to calm down. Another pointless thing to say. Miyata nodded for him to continue, reluctantly so. 

“I still like her. A lot. But I worry that I’m going nowhere unless I outright tell her how I feel and it’s hard. But I guess I have all of the new year to fix things right?” he asked, voice exuding some of that hope Miyata generally liked to hear from him. 

“What do you like about her?”

“Huh?” 

“I suppose I’ll ask again. What is it about Kumi that you like?”

It was a legitimate question. A question whose answer Miyata would think about on occasion. Mashiba Kumi. That was a name he didn’t actually hear that often. A person he wasn’t sure that he met. At least not officially. He only knew of her through Ippo. He had seen the two of them in public before. Sitting together at matches. Walking together in the mornings where Miyata was too focused on road work to greet either of them. Not that he’d cross that boundary in the first place. 

Whatever was between Kumi and Makunouchi was personal. Those two seemed closed. A kind of intimacy that wasn’t offputting really but foreign. He could only imagine what it was like. What it felt like. 

Ippo went silent for a while upon hearing Miyata’s question and the outboxer could see the pensivity written on his face. It wasn’t a face that was easy to read. His gaze was sharp, aimed at the frozen river in front of them with his eyes squinting. If Miyata didn’t know any better, he’d guess that Makunouchi’s answer was etched into the ice below. Something about the silence was unsettling, especially from Ippo. It made him want to reject the question entirely if it was something so difficult to explain.

“....because she’s kind.” Makunouchi finally replied, nearly in a whisper. “Yeah she’s really cute too but...she’s kind. Kumi-san is always cheering me on. And she listens to me. But more than that,” he said, taking another pause. “Despite all the hardships in her family life, I can tell that Kumi-san really cares about people. I can see it in the way she cares about her brother and...in how I feel when she talks to me.” 

Miyata didn’t expect that kind of answer from Makunouchi. And like most things that were surprises, it made his adrenaline kick into overtime. Makunouchi relaxing and cutting his eyes away from the river only made his heart rate increase. After hearing something so clearly private, he couldn’t tell what was coming next and he didn’t like it. 

“Miyata-kun?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you ask?” Completely reasonable to wonder. But he wondered himself all the same.

 “I don’t know,” Miyata replied. “Going out with a person like that… it’s honestly something I’ve never had time for.” Which in a way was true but maybe unbelievable to some. Certainly unbelievable to Ippo who looked bewildered, mouth agape and all. “Someone like you? But you’re so handsome and cool!” he shouted, leaning towards Miyata with excitement. “And you have so many fans!! You could probably date anyone you wanted!”

“That’s a little presumptuous,” he scoffed, subconsciously taking a step away from the infighter. Sure what Makunouchi was saying had some truth to it. Miyata could probably get a girlfriend with ease. But none of that would matter if he wasn’t happy. If he didn’t have that foreign feeling he saw through Makunochi's face when he talked about Kumi. 

Miyata often would think about that line fans and reporters never crossed, often thankful because it granted him some modicum of privacy but on the hard days, he looked at that line with a desire that could only emerge from loneliness. No one really took the time to understand him outside of the ring. Who would? 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Of course!! Honestly all that attention… I wouldn’t know how to handle it but it kinda makes me jealous sometimes,” Makunouchi said with a slight laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Of course. Jealousy. That explains it all. That’s what made his blood run hot and his heartbeat pulse in his ears just now. It had to be jealousy. It always was. And it always made him sick. 

“Attention or not, none of that really matters now,” Miyata spoke underneath a subtle sigh. “But maybe in the future it will.” Ippo seemed to be amused by that idea. “Maybe next year!!” he exclaimed. Miyata shrugged. It was certainly a possibility. Not one he’d hold much stock in but if it happened it happened. If it didn’t, well… He’d guess that’d be okay too. 

“But um aside from that,” Makunouchi began softly, voice wavering slightly enough to catch Miyata’s attention. “Miyata-kun, what did you want to talk about today?”

Right. Today is important. Today has a purpose. One proving to be rather difficult. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well the other day when you called me on the phone, you seemed very focused,” Makunouchi noted, tapping a finger to his chin. “And um, it’s kinda getting late so I do need to go home soon and I’m sure you want to see the countdown with your dad so…”

As Ippo trailed off, Miyata was convinced his heart would give out any moment now. All because in the midst of the snow and numerous distractions he let himself forget something so crucial. He couldn’t keep avoiding it forever. At this rate, he’d run out of chances. He’d run out of time and yet..

“I don’t know.”

“What?’

It was true. Why he was here, the urgency to say something, his purpose here, was something that confused him more than anything. 

“Honestly I… I thought if I saw you I’d understand,” he admitted, disliking the blatant perplexity on the other man’s face. He let out an awkward laugh. “I’m wasting your time aren’t I?”

“No not at all!!” Makunouchi shouted, shaking his head adamantly. “Here uh, wait,” he mumbled, frantically scraping a portion of the ground laden snow with his shoes. The powdery layer was light enough to easily reveal wet, matted grass with a few swipes, and once he uncovered a considerable patch, Makunouchi took a seat, hugging his knees. 

“What are you doing?” Miyata asked, certainly dumbfounded as to what craziness would make Makunouchi suddenly decide to sit in weather like this. At some point, the snow had stopped but it still couldn’t be comfortable. 

“I’m being quiet. I’m not going to say anything so that way you can think and remember.”

Miyata suddenly found himself hoping that Ippo didn’t have the wrong idea of blaming himself for his own inability to say what mattered to him. It was hardly Makunouchi’s fault. In fact he had several chances today and right now was his last one. 

His words were still choked in his throat, suffocating him but he couldn’t get this far just to run away. After all, if Makunouchi could answer his personal question about Kumi then he could open up. He needs to open up. The weight of regret sat heavy on his heart. He had to act now. 

Miyata wiped away a patch of snow with his boots before sitting alongside his rival. He tried not to think about trivial things, like the amount of snowflakes that landed into Ippo’s spiky hair or the lack of physical distance between the two of them. Those things didn’t matter. What was important was to finally say something meaningful.

He took a deep breath.

“Do you remember the day we met?”

A rhetorical question. Ippo smiled nonetheless. 

“Of course! It was one of the best days of my life!”

Me too.  Two words he couldn’t bring himself to say, so he chose an easier reply. Nothing.  

“W-why do you bring it up?” Makunouchi asked. 

“Well...you kept staring at me.”

“Oh I’m sorry!! I was just-”

“Stop that,” Miyata said, sharply cutting him off. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” He looked at his hands. They were shaking again. Just like they did before a match. He wished this was a match. It would be a hell of a lot easier than where he was now. A took another deep breath to still himself. Maybe it would be better to think of this as a match. A tough kind of fight where all he can do is try his best. He was thankful that this match was against someone so patient. 

And so he’ll try.  

“You stared at me in this way that was scary,” Miyata spoke carefully. “I could tell you were enthralled. But you weren’t like everyone else.”

“I remember when we made that promise. And you had that same look on your face. You kept asking me questions about my family. What it was like training with my father. And sure, they weren’t questions I didn’t hear before prior to meeting you but they were asked in a different kind of way.”

“What do you mean?” Makunouchi asked. Miyata frowned. 

“I’m going to get to that but could you...You could just let me finish everything first? Please?”

Otherwise I’ll never get anything out.

“Oh I’m sorry! Here I’ll-” Miyata shook his head.

“You don’t have to apologize. Just..”

A little more of your patience. No, that seemed too desperate. Too vulnerable. 

“At any rate, I could tell you just wanted to know me. But at the same time you had this weird interest in me. I became a goal for you to reach. Someone to be like in a kind of way. I’m not wrong am I?”

Ippo didn’t say a word but Miyata could tell by his eyes that he understood. 

“Back then, I thought you were being intrusive. Annoying. But it always felt...nice. So I just realized I’ve been going on and I probably never looked at you that way.”

At least not when you’re around. Another thought not to be said. 

“But I guess what I want to say is...that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel that way too.” Miyata clasped his fingers together, discovering that the pressure made the tremors decrease. “It honestly makes me wonder if you’re disappointed in me.”

“Why would I…” Ippo stopped, remembering what Miyata said about interrupting and restrained. The fact that he seemed inclined enough to deny Miyata’s fear was comforting but that wasn’t enough to erase it completely. In his mind, it made sense. He couldn’t recall when it happened but for as long as he knows, a piece of him was stuck in the same belief. Why would Makunouchi be disappointed in me? He asked himself before today. Months ago. Years ago.

Because I’m disappointed in myself.

Despite the pounding of his pulse in his eardrums, Miyata knew he had to continue.

“Lately...I think I don’t really…..show how much I appreciate people. And since you’ve been this constant in my life, I want to start with you.”

“Miyata-kun?”

“Let me finish okay?” Please. Wordlessly, he reached out a hand towards Makunouchi, unsure of where to put it. As tempting as it was, touching the man’s face was all too bold and intimate, a boundary not to be crossed, so he settled for his shoulder. The infighters’ muscles tensed upon contact but then relaxed into the firm fingertips. 

“You..you always say this thing about thinking that I’m inspiring. But you are- no rather, you made boxing fun again for me. And I know I’ve never told you that. When I watch you get up over and over no matter how hard you get knocked down. When I see you do this...it makes me wanna do the same. But it’s so frustrating because you rarely credit yourself. I don’t think you know how much you inspire others. How much you inspire me.”

The sight of Ippo’s flustered face was usually enough for Miyata’s own embarrassment to flare up. Fortunately, he could suppress it this time.

“I can just see it in the way you carry yourself,” he continued. “How much you just don’t get it. And it’s funny that a lot of people don’t know what kind of person you are when you’re not fighting on TV. That shyness you have.” The kind Miyata saw the first day Ippo joined Kamogawa gym. The man whose timidity irritated him just as much as it made him smile. The Makunouchi he knew all along. 

“People are probably shocked when they found out who you really are, I’d imagine.” Ippo nodded reluctantly. 

“Regardless, I feel pretty lucky. Because I get to see it. And I don’t…” Miyata stopped upon following Ippo’s eyes and realizing that his hand still rested on his shoulder. And worse, it still trembled with nerves. He pulled away a little quicker than he intended which only seemed to make Makunouchi concerned. He looked at the wet grass beneath his feet with disdain. 

“Sorry.” 

“No it’s fine! You don’t-”

“No, I’m trying to say that I’m sorry for always… being so far.” 

Miyata wished his apology would’ve made him more comfortable sitting next to his rival. Instead, it left him combating the weight of his own nausea and desire to escape.

“You.. you do this thing where you try to come find me from time to time and well, it’s why I wanted to see you today. Why I called you.” 

Why I’d regret not saying anything until now. 

Between the bitter cold air and the heaviness of Makunouchi’s gaze, the outboxer felt trapped and he had no idea what to do to make that feeling go away. Normally, when the world was all too overwhelming, he’d distract himself. Avoid it completely. Not even his own father knew a quarter of the unpleasantness that plagued his son from time to time. Perhaps he didn’t realize it, but for the majority of his childhood, his father never gave him the chance. So talking through it all was new and created headaches and a rawness he couldn’t claim was familiar. He watched the breathy puff of air condense as he exhaled, a reminder that the moment was very much real and not a fragment of a dream. 

“I’m such a…. I-I haven’t been as, well, good to you as I should be. I haven’t made the things you try to do for me even and well..” Miyata said, needing a moment to regain composure as best as he could. He combed his fingers through his hair, trying to keep busy to stop that awful feeling that just persisted. From his peripheral there was a visibly concerned Makunouchi that may have wanted to a word or two in response but refrained. 

“I feel pressured to fix this...the unevenness I mean because I don’t want to lose my...you know?”

“Your what?”

The tone of the question was gentle but it cut like a blade to hear it. It meant that despite the lengths of trying to explain, Makunouchi may not have understood. He just didn’t get it. And that felt all too similar to a kind of personal defeat. 

“I see all these other people in your life who know you. Who are so close to you. And I wish...no I want to…”

He knew what he wanted. Many things. To simultaneously run from it all yet face the emotions he buried for so long. To accept those emotions and make them known. For Makunochi to complete his sentences now because he lost most of the confidence to do it himself, lest he lose it all then and there.  

“I wish that… I want to…” Miyata choked out, turning his head so Makunouchi wouldn’t see his face in the event tears began to ungracefully stream down it. The lump in his throat and blurred vision was an awful indication he was on the verge and it made him ashamed. 

None of this was supposed to go this way. Even so, it only took a few unsavory turns to make that world Miyata wanted to see cave in on itself. A world with more bridges, roads, and connections that he never let himself traverse. 

He killed his chance to act. To express what could only be lost in translation. 

Or so it seemed at first. In the midst of a few tears stinging because of the coldness of his cheeks lay a gesture that blanketed him in warmth. It made him freeze at first, shoulders tense, back stiff until he quickly processed what was happening and why it was happening. 

Makunochi had wrapped his arms around Miyata in a tight hug. And through the care and protective nature of the touch, he was comfortable thinking it was because somehow, through all the stuttering and stumbling, he understood him. 

Once Ippo started rubbing small circles on Miyata’s back, that was enough for the outboxer to relax into the embrace and return it. 

“Miyata-kun?” Ippo whispered.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. You were so brave just now. You’re so hard on yourself but you said so many wonderful things. Thank you.”

“No Makunouchi I-”

I can do this.  

“Thank you.”

---

As the two left the riverbank, Miyata wondered how a day could feel so long yet so incredibly short. Regardless, he was happy that Makunouchi accepted his offer to walk him back home and even more grateful that the man was so patient with him the entire day. 

He finally chose to act on what matters and knowing himself, the struggle would hardly be over like that, but one look at Makunouchi’s smile told him it at least doesn’t have to be a lonely struggle. And while he’s there next to him, it won’t be that way. 

Once the old wooden sign for the fishing boat came into view, Miyata stopped, the bittersweetness of the night ending starting to settle in. Makunouchi asked if he wanted to step inside for a moment, but Miyata declined, not particularly wanting to keep Makunouchi away from his family any longer or to make his father worry about where he was on the holiday evening. Normally, he would have chosen to leave then and there and as he started to walk away, he caught himself. 

“Makunouchi,” he said softly, as if it was the kindest word he knew. 

“Y-yes?” Ippo asked. 

“Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year to you too, Miyata-kun!”