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Akaashi can hear the muffled talking of the audience outside of the room he’s sitting in, along with the sounds of a foreign song blasting from the speakers that have been planted around the arena.
Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath to calm his racing nerves. Although there’s nothing to be nervous about, he’s been in this situation multiple times since the start of his career. When his eyes open they flick over to the small white clock on the wall. Ten more minutes until he has to go out.
The match of the season. That was what everyone in Japan was calling it. Anyone who kept up to date with the sport knew who they both were – they’d be stupid not to. They’d been rivals for years; both battling it out year in, year out for the number one spot.
Not many people were aware of just how far the rivalry went back. If you asked around, the majority would tell you that it started four years ago when the unknown black haired twenty-year-old beat the twenty-one-year-old champion at the time in straight sets. From then on they always danced between themselves, the victory always shifting between both competitors and never going to another opponent.
But the few that knew the players personally would tell you that their rivalry stemmed back way further to their high school days.
If you searched them both up online, you’d discover that they went to the same school – Fukurōdani Academy – and were in the same tennis club. Despite one being in the year above, they were close friends that spent almost every moment of the day together. When they weren’t playing against each other, they were sharing tactics or helping the other improve on their serves and hits.
They were both dedicated to the sport, even going as far as breaking into the school courts over the holidays to play one-on-one matches, with the punishment of running the outside of the courts three times being given to whoever lost.
Then came the day that the two of them had avoided talking about; the day of Bokuto’s graduation where two became one. The day where Bokuto moved on and left Akaashi behind.
To give him something to do whilst the minutes tick by, he unties and reties his shoelaces, ensuring they’re tight enough that there’s no risk of his feet slipping out of them whilst playing.
He taps along to the beat of the English song that’s playing, the noise of his pristine white trainers hitting the floor echoing around the small space. They’re the second pair he’s had to get hold of this week alone, he can’t afford to be seen wearing clothes that have small stains and scratches along them – he has sponsors that need him to sell their products.
Another glance at the time lets him know that it’s only five minutes until his appearance. Whilst he’s adjusting the white headband that keeps his hair out of his face, a knock is heard from the door.
Whoever’s there doesn’t wait for a response, the door opening and closing behind them as they enter. Akaashi gives them a small smile as they take a seat on the brown bench next to him.
“You ready, kid?” Akaashi picks up his black and gold coloured racket from off the floor. It’s the same colour and brand as the one he used when he first started playing. He briefly wonders if his opponent has the same racket that they used last year, because if so then the two of them would be matching.
That puts a warm smile on his face.
He spins the racket a couple of times in his hand then grips the handle tightly, so the black cushioning is indented. “I am, coach.”
“Remember, as usual, to keep your personal feelings aside for the next few hours. Since joining the scene you’ve both won it twice so now’s your chance to get one up on him again.” His coach grins, as invested in their rivalry as the tennis players themselves are.
“I am aware. And do you really think that lowly of me that I’d let my feelings affect my playing?” Akaashi raises his eyebrow in a teasing manner which receives him a hard pat on the back.
“Of course not. I know you Keiji, you’ve got this.” The announcer’s voice rings out and Akaashi’s previous anxiety morphs into excitement. “Come on, time to claim that trophy back.”
“Bokuto-san?” Bokuto turned his head from where he was lying on the floor to look at Akaashi who was leaning up against a tree trunk. They were both on top of a small hill, a place that they frequently hung out when they weren’t playing tennis.
“Yeah?” Bokuto watched Akaashi, whose hair was flowing messily in the soft breeze that surrounded them. Akaashi’s expression revealed nothing about how he was feeling but Bokuto knew that his best friend was sad about him leaving for college in a different prefecture.
“Are you going to carry on playing in college?” Akaashi finally looked down, so their eyes met. Bokuto swallowed, shifting himself so he was sat up next to the black-haired boy.
“Of course.” He continued to watch the boy in front of him for a moment longer before facing forward. “Are you?”
“Yes.” Bokuto nodded at his reply, wanting to continue the conversation but not sure what to say.
He felt a small weight against his shoulder and when he realised that Akaashi had rested his head against his black jacket, a small blush overtook his features.
“Do you think you’ll make it professional?” Akaashi whispered against the material.
Deciding to take a huge risk, Bokuto moved his arm around Akaashi and brought the younger boy closer to him. Surprisingly, Akaashi didn’t seem to mind his action; simply moving to make himself more comfortable.
“That’s the plan,” Bokuto paused his speech, a wide smile growing on his face, “and you better make it professional as well. I’ll be waiting for you on the national stage.”
“You’ll be waiting a couple of years.” Akaashi huffed which caused a laugh to erupt out of Bokuto as he squeezed his arm tighter around his underclassman.
“I’ll wait as long as I need to ‘Kaashi. One year! Two years! Ten years if I have to!”
A small chuckle left Akaashi as he squeezed the older man’s arm. “I guess I’ll be seeing you there then, Bokuto-san.”
“Good! You need to be there so I can defeat you with the whole country watching!” Bokuto could feel Akaashi rolling his eyes next to him.
“I think you’ll find that it’ll be me defeating you Bokuto-san.”
“No way!” Bokuto exclaimed, suddenly standing up and causing Akaashi to almost fall due to him leaning on the white and black-haired boy. Akaashi raised his hand over his eyes to block out the sun as Bokuto mimed hitting a tennis ball with a racket. “I’ll definitely beat you and become the national champion!”
With a groan, Akaashi stood up as well; stretching his arms over his head as a couple of his bones clicked at the movement. “Then I’ll just have to beat you the year after and take the title myself.”
“Come and try!” With a laugh, Bokuto raced down the hill, tripping over his feet a couple of times on the way down. When he realised that Akaashi was still on top of the hill, he ran back up to grab his hand. “That’s your cue to follow me ‘Kaashi!”
With a sigh and a slight smile forming at the corner of his lips, Akaashi let himself be dragged down to the bottom of the hill. Unbeknownst to the pair, that would be the last time they’d go there together.
Akaashi tugs down his knee-length shorts and fixes the collar of his cotton shirt as he stands up. Like his shoes, they’re all white in colour with the logo of his sponsor sewed in red along the bottom of the shorts and on the ends of his short sleeves.
The two of them make their way to the court where the match will be held. Along the way, he greets a couple of fans who shout his name but the minute he lays eyes on the court he stops in the entranceway. The stands are packed, everyone here to watch him play. It’s a feeling that gets his heart racing faster and something that he’ll never get used to seeing. It reminds him of why he loves what he does.
Luckily, the sun isn’t glaring down on them, so he isn’t obliged to shove his head into one of the caps that his sponsors gave him. Although, with one look to his right, he spots someone proudly sporting a black version of the same cap. Except it’s being worn backwards. Tuffs of white hair sticking out through the gap with the rest of it tucked under. If it were any other time, Akaashi would have laughed but instead, he fiddles with the racket in his hand as he scrutinises the hard court he’ll be playing on.
The crowd dies down as Akaashi has a last-minute talk with his coach, then goes over to the referee to shake his hand. They share a few words and do the coin toss whilst his opponent is finishing off his conversation with his coach. Getting first serve, Akaashi goes to grab a couple of balls and puts them in his pockets whilst the referee speaks to the other guy.
Then, every single person goes quiet. Not one person can be heard speaking as Akaashi approaches the net that separates him from the backward cap-wearing man in front of him.
Outstretching his free hand, he waits for his smaller hand to be engulfed by a larger one. A small squeeze is exchanged between them as they shake hands. The man in front of him steps back a few steps and raises his racket so it points at Akaashi. The racket is black and gold, the same as last year – they’re matching.
“You here to try and take my title from me Keiji?” Bokuto grins, waving the racket up and down.
“Of course Koutarou.” Akaashi smirks in return, raising his own racket so it hits the side of Bokuto’s.
“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you.” Bokuto gives Akaashi a small wink and Akaashi shakes his head, trying to conceal a laugh.
“Right back at you.”
“You could have at least worn the cap, so we could’ve been matching.” A small pout makes its way onto Bokuto’s face as he adjusts the cap so it’s facing the right way round, the majority of his black and white hair seeping out from the sides.
Akaashi is about to reply but a whistle is blown. He gives Bokuto a look that screams ‘later’ and walks over to the serving line. He bounces the ball multiple times until he’s comfortable with the feeling of it.
He locks eyes with Bokuto from the other side of the court, a loving expression adorning his face amongst the competitive twinkle that he can visualise in his eyes.
Akaashi touches the necklace hidden underneath his shirt, a thin metal chain with a silver ring hanging from it. He knows that Bokuto has a matching one under his own black shirt. Neither are ready to let the country know of their relationship so for now, they hide it all under the pretence of a friendly rivalry. The rivalry they have developed is something they treasure, and the couple loves nothing more than competing in tennis matches with each other.
Akaashi breathes in a deep breath as he throws the bright yellow ball in the air and swings the tennis racket in the air to hit it at full force. As he hoped, the ball cuts through the air and lands perfectly on the other side of the court from where Bokuto is. A whistle is blown, a male voice announces the point, and Akaashi gives his boyfriend a wink from his side of the court as the first point goes to him. The crowd around them scream and clap at the ace serve he delivered; tensions already high even though the set has just started.
One point down, and many more to come.