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It’s a wonder for Eita to go so long without a double-pack of pocky being shoved into his hands. This year, however, he went all of morning practice without being harassed with the candy: a new record. At one point he even wondered if he had confused the date, but as he started peeling off his sweaty socks and spraying deodorant inside his shoes, Satori sauntered over with his lanky arms behind his back. Before the guy even opened his mouth, Eita knew it was the right date.
“SemiSemi,” he sing-songs, elongating the last syllable while wiggling side to side. “A little birdie told me that today is a special day!”
Eita looks up, humming as if trying to remember. “And you need birds to tell you?”
“Birds don’t talk,” Wakatoshi informs them from where he’s putting on his school uniform.
“It’s an expression, Wakatoshi-kun.” Satori grins fondly at their captain. “Do you need help tying your tie?” Wakatoshi nods, so Satori reaches out to shake Shirabu’s shoulder. “Can you help him?”
The kid glares at Satori like the request offends him, but it’s still a chance to help their captain, and Shirabu’s hopeless crush is not exactly subtle either. Eita would feel bad for him if it weren’t so entertaining. Besides, Eita can name at least three people who are crushing on Wakatoshi, on the team alone, so it can’t possibly be his fault.
Once Shirabu undoes the sad knot Wakatoshi had messily entangled moments ago, Satori’s attention is back on Eita. “Well?” The redhead’s eyes gleam with mischief, so Eita decides it won’t hurt to tease him a little.
“Well, yes.” He nods, and Satori’s grin spreads like spilt water. “Today is 2x1 on taiyaki ice cream at the mall.”
Satori whines comedically, throwing his head back before shaking it vigorously. “No, no! Wait… is it?” Satori leans in, buggy eyes wide and a single eyebrow arched high on his forehead. Eita nods.
“Today is Wednesday.”
“Oh! We should stop by after practice then.” He turns to their captain, never one to leave him out, and asks if he wants to go as well. Once Wakatoshi hums an affirmation, Satori squints at Eita. “But that wasn’t it, Eita-kun.”
“Singles’ Day?” Hayato wonders out loud after taking off his shirt. “I know a bunch of websites are having sales. And we’re all single. We should do something!”
“No!” Satori whines, throwing his arms up dramatically. Eita seizes the opportunity to snatch the bright red box out of his hand. He smiles smugly as he opens the snack and pulls out one of the treats.
“I’ll take one, thank you.”
“Oh!” Goshiki points at the box like he just realized what Satori had been trying to say the whole time—and he probably just did. “Today is Pocky Day!”
With a relieved sigh, Satori takes the pocky out of Eita’s mouth, ignoring his disgruntled noise. “Thank you! Yes, Tsutomu, today is Pocky Day. And because it’s Pocky Day, and it’s our last year here at Shiratorizawa, today I call dibs on Semi’s first Pocky Game of the day!” He announces, placing the pocky into his mouth and wiggling his eyebrows.
“It’s my last year as well,” Wakatoshi points out, then looks down at Shirabu. “Are you sure you know how to tie it?”
“Yes! Yes, I do. Stop moving,” Shirabu grumbles before returning his attention to the task at hand.
Hayato crosses his arms. “It’s also my last year.”
“Too late, I called dibs,” Satori taunts, sticking out his tongue at them.
“How do you even know it’s the first? It’s 9am, it could be my fifth.” Eita argues, indignantly crossing his arms.
Satori cocks his head like a weird, energetic, and confused puppy, then grins. “Because you’re not laughing, which means you must be pissed because you thought we forgot.” Satori sits down next to Eita and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Am I wrong? T’was just a guess.”
Eita doesn't reply, instead glaring at Satori in mock-annoyance and pursing his lips before scoffing. “Fine, but hurry up. I don't want to be late to classes because of this.”
Whooping and placing the pocky back between his lips, Satori turns his body towards Eita.
After years having to play this game with several different people per day, Eita is aware of all the dirty tricks there are to get people uncomfortable and be the last one to keep the candy; physical closeness is often the most effective, so Eita slides his leg next to Satori’s knee and sets most of his weight on it. He bites the end of the stick, and immediately Satori starts chewing his side. His determined face and puffy cheeks are enough to make Eita struggle not to laugh.
It’s about halfway that Eita’s expertise comes into play. He scoots in closer, placing his hand on the side of Satori’s neck before sliding it up to hold his cheek . When there’s only half an inch of the candy between their lips, Eita tilts his head to the side and slows down his motions. He holds eye contact. Satori snickers, pulling away to hold his stomach as little snorty laughs escape him like hiccups. His laugh has always been the most contagious when it’s sincere, but Semi savors his chocolate-flavored victory.
“You take this so seriously, SemiSemi,” Satori giggles, wiping an actual tear from the corner of his eye.
“I kinda have to.”
“I’ll win when I have your last game of the day, though.” Satori smirks mischievously, and Eita sighs, resigned.
“Wait, you can’t have first and last!” Shirabu argues. His ears are slightly pink and his hands are still holding Wakatoshi’s tie, ready to give the last pull to get the knot into place.
Satori smirks. “I will.”
“Dibs!” Five people yell at the same time. Eita glances at their captain, whose hand is also raised up, but his deadpan expression makes it so Eita has to hold back a laugh.
They argue and bicker, trying to reach an agreement that will never happen. Eita busies himself fixing his gym bag and snacking on the remaining pocky—one of which gets stolen by Kawanishi. Finally, Jin finishes tying his shoes and says, “Just do a competition, then. Whoever wins the most pocky games throughout the day, and doesn't get called to the headmaster’s office for disrupting classes gets to have Semi’s last pocky game after evening practice.”
“Oh, glad my input is valued,” Eita quips, already at the door. “See you then.”
☆
Eight hours later, Eita walks into the club room. He’s cautious—half concerned at the fact that no one updated him during lunch time, not even to brag. To his surprise, no one is arguing when he opens the door. They don’t get distracted during practice either. Eita wonders if they forgot about it all in the end.
He gets his answer as soon as the whistle blows.
“I won five games today,” Tsutomu starts, holding the sweaty practice vests in his arms. Eita almost wants to clutch his chest and coo at the first year.
Satori gets to it before Eita even has the chance. He pinches Tsutomu’s cheeks and makes ‘five whole games!’ into a bigger deal than it actually is.
“I won seven,” Hayato says while mopping the floor, then stops to high five Taichi who, apparently, won the same number of games.
Eita looks up to Wakatoshi, who pauses from taking down the net to utter a severe, “One.” Eita is a little surprised Wakatoshi played at all, and perhaps a little curious as to who could have possibly indulged him.
It goes like that from there. Jin won ten games, Reon eleven and Satori celebrated his supposed victory with twelve. Eita figures now is as good a moment as ever to throw his curveball.
“Not so fast. I won fifteen games,” Eita says, nonchalantly leaning into his mop.
“What!? You weren’t playing!” Satori screams, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“Yeah, I was. What? You thought I wasn’t gonna fight for my own hand? My own pocky?”
“You still haven’t won,” A serious voice sounds from the storage room where Shirabu had disappeared to put away the balls. The kid walks out with the confidence of some kind of manga villain before stating, “I won twenty games.”
“What!?” Echoes the entire team.
“Who exactly did you threaten!?” Satori gapes, and Kawanishi raises his hand.
“I won twice, though.” Kawanishi grins.
“How many times did you play each other?” Jin asks.
Kwanishi’s smirk is smug when he says, “Two.”
Satori shakes his head, squinting suspiciously at Shirabu before asking, “Wait, how can we be sure you won that many?”
Shirabu shrugs. “The honor system? How can we know you won twelve games?”
“Well, before Shirabu gets the last game we should all have a go,” Reon suggests, rummaging about his bag for a packet of cookies-and-cream pocky. “You’ll still get the last one, promise.”
The brat doesn’t look convinced, glaring at everyone like a kid throwing a silent tantrum, but he still stands near the wall with his arms closed and patiently awaits his turn. He refuses to play when Eita mentions he can totally still play, or play with someone else, and that he’ll just get the last pocky of their collective boxes.
Tsutomu goes first, and he gets nervous three bites in and snaps the stick with a dramatic tilt of his head: a loss. Next comes Jin, and then Reon: both of them a fair tie with no rematch because kissing once with a mouthful of candy is more than enough. Wakatoshi doesn’t really move and Eita has to agree his strategy is good, because Eita is the one who lets go of the pocky when they’re too close: the first occurrence in nearly two years. He accepts the cheers Wakatoshi gets for defeating the standing champion before moving on.
Satori and Yamagata are a back-and-forth of unmeasured competitiveness and refusals to take the L; a whole package is spent on rematches before they accept Eita’s victory. Kawanishi has to go back to the club room for another box of pocky, since he ate all of his while watching the previous matchups; it’s still a tie, but Eita has to admit—to himself—that his kouhai is a pretty good kisser. So much so that despite the fact that he won, Eita is tempted to ask for a rematch. No wonder Shirabu lost twice. Maybe it was on purpose? Eita didn’t think Shirabu had it in him to be so sneaky, but considering he’s a spoiled rich brat that always gets his way, it makes sense.
By the time he’s done indulging the team, Eita is sure he’ll go straight to his dorm and fall asleep as soon as he lies down, so, with the possibility of any more pocky games ruled out, he opens the last packet of strawberry pocky and turns to Shirabu.
“Let’s do this before I fall asleep,” he bites the end of the candy and adds, “‘less you’re gon’ chicken out.”
Shirabu squints at him, never one to turn down a challenge, and promptly struts over. He groans in annoyance when Eita refuses to lean in for him. Eita dodges and laughs until Shirabu pulls him down by the neck of his shirt. Shirabu looks beyond determined as he starts gnawing the pocky, but the tell-tale nervous wobble of his lips gives Eita a heads up of his incoming victory.
They rematch three times, since Shirabu is stubborn as they get. Eita can’t say he’s bothered. Not really, because flustering the kouhai that snagged his place as a starter on the team is a victory on its own.
“One more,” Shirabu mutters, keeping his head down while Eita takes out another pocky. His ears and cheeks are red, but his hair hides it somewhat. Eita wants to roll his eyes and call him a sore loser, but one more game never hurt anyone. Plus strawberry is his favorite pocky flavor after lemon.
Eita bites the end of the candy, blinking the sleep away while Shirabu gathers enough courage to try again. As a player, Eita knows losing several times in a row can do a number on your confidence, but he had expected more of the guy who made a show of announcing he had won twenty games, which meant he had lost an untold number—if he was telling the truth, of course—but outside of spiting Satori, Eita can’t imagine why Shirabu of all people would be so hellbent on finishing the package playing such a silly game.
Eita’s eyes widen when instead of biting the opposite end of the pocky, Shirabu snatches it away from his mouth only to crashland his lips over Eita’s, taking advantage of the fact that he was already leaning down so Shirabu could easily play along. One of his hands tangles firmly on the hair of Eita’s nape and the message is clear—not an accident.
Well, Eita can’t say he was thinking along that path.
“Oh,” He hears Satori say somewhere to his right, “I thought he liked Wakatoshi-kun.”
If anyone says anything else, Eita doesn’t care. His brain is occupied savoring the taste of strawberry cream from Shirabu’s sneaky tongue, and maybe also deciphering how he feels about this new discovery. Maybe when he’s not this tired.
When the kid pulls away it’s with a murmured, “Happy birthday,” and another peck, which Eita easily returns.
“It’s his birthday?” Tsutomu asks, and Eita can’t help but snort.