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Shinkai has a thing for captains. That must be it. Either that, or the people he fancy turn into captains as a result. The second option does not seem as logical, though.
It starts with Fukutomi, of course. He is a captain before he is made captain; all their team mates know it, probably, during their very first year of junior high. On the outside, he’s an awkward looking kid who bleaches his hair, yet get the highest grades; a kid who sits alone without looking sad, and who talks so matter-of-factly, Shinkai wonders if he is secretly foreign, and didn’t learn the words for fun.
He decides to teach him, though his thought process is less altruistic than that at first. Watching Fukutomi move through life seems worthwhile, because he’s more interesting than anyone Shinkai has met yet at the time. He sticks close, tries to figure him out, and ends up none the wiser, but all the more persistent.
Fukutomi is solid, secure, and strong, firm in everything that he does, and inspirational without seeming to realise it. Everything he says sounds true, and through the years Shinkai watches him motivate lost soul after lost soul, only seeking to make them improve for their own sakes, without any ulterior motives of his own. Sometimes his words don’t reach, so Shinkai gets to intervene and help in the process, and the loyal share of followers Fukutomi gains are as well deserved as they are grateful.
Shinkai knows he’s one of them before Fukutomi even helps him overcome his trauma, because just being by his side is rewarding enough. Having that pillar by his side, knowing he can stumble, and be caught, aids him though the minor feuds with peers, and the more pressing troubles with family.
They fight too, but it looks serious only on the outside. A part of Shinkai feels exhilarated at being the person who can rouse Fukutomi to anger, and it’s the same, inane part which likes it when they get physical. They never have a fight they don’t make up for afterwards, and there are never words left unsaid, and no harsh thoughts in the aftermath.
Shinkai thinks, many times during their high school years, that he wants to stay by his side forever.
Izumida is next, though it takes some time for him to see it. What starts as Fukutomi’s intervention becomes Shinkai’s project, and the same way he sees club members grow attached to his closest friend, he notices Izumida sticking to him.
By most standards, Shinkai knows that he’s popular with friends, classmates and team mates alike. He doesn’t particularly care one way or the other; sticking out isn’t bad, and just staying by Fukutomi isn’t, either. Yet the affection he’s met with from Izumida stands out, and he keeps thinking of his most earnest kouhai with increasing pride. The diligence Izumida puts into his training, and the honest way he speaks his mind are the way he stays true to himself even when he is deemed awkward or weird are all qualities reminiscent of the person Shinkai treasures the most.
Unlike Fukutomi, however, Izumida is always open about his admiration, and always looking at him, instead of merely straight ahead. He is someone Shinkai wants, and more pressingly, he is someone Shinkai can have.
By the time Izumida is made a captain too, Shinkai understands this. He is already set to leave, but the new captain, who he smiles to in defeat, embodies all those qualities he find so easy to love. Izumida doesn’t reject him, either, when Shinkai takes his first kiss. He lets himself be taken away by Shinkai and showers him with praise and worship he can only strive to match.
Shinkai doesn’t know if Fukutomi would have him, but he can live without finding out. Tasting the hard muscle of Izumida perfected body, hearing his name called in ecstasy and feeling Izumida’s powerful grip on his shoulders, keeping them connected through it all, makes it easier to not to think about his closest friend in that way. He is in love with two, but he can deal with that heartbreak by tying his body to one.
Claiming Izumida so selfishly helps him associate all things carnal to Izumida’s scent, Izumida’s voice, Izumida’s flavour and Izumida’s skin. Even as he moves away with Fukutomi once more, his thoughts of lust are tied to the one he leaves behind. They speak on the phone and he stays by Fukutomi’s side, and thinks that it is just as he wanted it, even if his affections split in two, and his cowardice made him give up on his old desires to be held through the night by his closest friend.
His thoughts are filled with Izumida, but they don’t stop him, when Fukutomi presses their lips together for the first time. It happens after a race, and to be fair, Shinkai never told him about what he does with the other captain he fancies.
It also happens at a time when Shinkai thought he was over him, only to be proven wrong as his ancient instincts kick in, and he ravages Fukutomi with pent up lust and teeth.
With Fukutomi, it is not loud, not filled with praise, not filled with kind of overwhelming effort Izumida puts into it. But Fukutomi is solid, able to keep Shinkai between his body and the wall, and there to grasp at for support as he is given what he has always wanted.
They are alike, the two captains, when they tell without whispering that they have always loved him. Shinkai wonders if perhaps his preferences has less to do with taste, and more to do with captains falling for him instead.
Greedily, he devours Fukutomi’s kisses like they were his first. He has no right to them, like he has no right to Izumida’s, or the love they both claim. He spends the night at Fukutomi’s, speaking memories with new, romantic connotations. Shinkai does most of the talking, but Fukutomi holds him tightly, and agrees with his words and without.
It is not fair to pick one, and it is not fair to pick two, and making no choice at all – as he opts to do at first – leads to falling results in school and on the road. Fukutomi makes him healthy dinners to lift his spirit, but the truth doesn’t leave Shinkai’s mouth for kindness and salads.
He ignores Izumida’s next two calls, but he doesn’t reject Fukutomi’s hands on his body, though he wants to cry when they are done, while his body simply aches for more.
He considers involving a third party, when he starts to lose it. He is in no mood to be berated by Arakita, however, or made to feel guilty by Toudou for not telling him earlier. The two people he can talk two are the two people who are involved, because he had to go and fall in love with them both.
Fukutomi is serious and honest to a fault. Izumida treasures earnestness and truths. Lying makes a mockery of his love, but Shinkai isn’t convinced that hurting them will be any better.
Ultimately, the decision to act on his own is taken out of his hand, when Izumida drops by for a visit at his dorm. The time spent apart makes him want to kiss him deeply, but he cannot kiss Izumida when his lips are obviously swollen from Fukutomi’s work from the night before.
Tears don’t come when he tells the truth to the person he loves second most, and he cannot look him in the eyes, as he hears Izumida snivel.
Because he is so mature, so bright, and has grown to be so calm and responsible, Izumida does not yell or ask why. He wipes his tears and expresses a formal farewell, stating that he will need time to heal, and being understanding in their parting. Before leaving, he assures Shinkai not to worry. He says that he is strong, and Shinkai’s heart rips further, as he watches him go, even though they barely had any time at all side by side.
After breaking such a sweet boy’s heart he doesn’t deserve to keep Fukutomi, who finds him embarrassingly crying into a pillow, an hour after Izumida’s departure. He tells him as much, tells him everything he can remember, about Izumida’s soft kisses, about his beautiful devotion, about his pretty smile and about his erotic body, and everything he shouldn’t be saying about an ex to an ex, but cannot keep himself from spouting in sorrow.
Fukutomi stays by his side and strokes his back, listening through it all. When Shinkai says that he can’t continue to be with him, he doesn’t even flinch.
By the end of it, Shinkai’s tears are all dried up and his eyes are red, but he cannot muster any more sorrow. Still by his side sits Fukutomi with his impassive face, and just a few set of words.
Fukutomi says that he does not blame him, despite it all. He does not blame him for his split affection, the unfaithfulness, nor the lying. He doesn’t think any less of Shinkai, because he did the right thing in the end. And he says that he will be fine, because he is strong.
Shinkai has a thing for strong captains. His has a thing for men who are kind, supportive, honest and too good. He has a thing for men who are too good for him.
He stays broken up with them both, even though Fukutomi wants to stay together. They stick to each other’s sides, and after a while, the occasional hand on the back starts to feel normal again, when they race and win – but without their private celebration in the aftermath.
When he talks to his brother on the phone, he asks about Izumida, and eventually, he dares to call him directly, and talk about the team, how he’s doing, and if Usakichi is happy with the new members as well.
Izumida recovers, and Fukutomi does as well, though he hid his pain even from Shinkai for months. They bounce back up, and they do amazing things; they evolve, grow stronger, as Shinkai watches from the side line.
Maybe he should never have tried to do anything else. Maybe he has longed for captains and their qualities, because he cannot have them for himself.