Chapter Text
"How long are you going to keep moping there?"
A light, cheerful voice cuts through the chill evening air, and Akaya stops his backboard practice abruptly, startled. The tennis ball hits the wall with a final loud thud, and as his prior hit was particularly strong it circles in its position against the cement before it drops down to the floor, bouncing before it rolls out of sight. He doesn't need to turn around to know that it's Marui-senpai.
"You're ignoring me?" He hears him come to him instead, and suddenly Akaya's view of the stone floor underneath is blocked by a pretty, smiling face as Marui stands beside him. Leaning forward, his senpai's head is tilted sideways to look at Akaya, bright red fringe falling over relaxed purple eyes.
"'m not ignoring you," Akaya forces out, before he looks away. The stars are numerous and twinkling, a smattering of white against a deep navy. They’re the only two people in the outdoor tennis court, and his voice almost echoes as he speaks. "But you're not supposed to be here."
"I was passing by," Marui hums.
Marui's house is in the other direction. Akaya narrows his eyes. "Okay. Well, I'm practicing, so…"
"You're destroying the wall," he replies. "And your hand."
Akaya looks down, and it's only then that the soreness registers. He's been gripping his racket so tightly and for so long his palms have turned red and raw. It stings when he adjusts the grip of his racket, so he sets it down on the ground, knees aching when he bends down. Irritating.
"You should probably be getting home, then," Akaya says with gritted teeth as he straightens up, still miffed by his disturbance. "...Senpai."
He didn't mean to forget the honorific, and he meant no disrespect. But right now he is practicing, it is late, and he is getting interrupted. After the match with Echizen Ryoma, when everyone headed to the station after Sanada-fukubuchou and Yanagi-senpai left to send the brat home, he slipped away from his senpai to practice on his own. Somehow he couldn’t sit still.
Marui-senpai being here, annoying and meddlesome like he always is, is ruining the entire point.
Marui shrugs. "Tell that to yourself."
Akaya watches him as he walks to a darker part of the park a few meters away. His senpai kicks something up and catches it midair, and Akaya sees that it's his tennis ball. When his eyes meet Akaya's once more, Marui points it at him, face suddenly serious.
"...You lost today."
It isn't a question or a mockery, simply a statement of fact. And yet Akaya still can't help but glare at the older boy, fists clenching, nails marking painful crescents on his already blistered palm. Angry words bubble at his throat, and his jaw twitches as he struggles to hold them back, his stomach feeling as if it is hollow and made of lead.
He did lose. Pathetically, too, against a first year, never mind the fact that it was Seigaku's Echizen Ryoma. In front of Jackal-senpai and all the elders in the tennis club he was sufficiently embarrassed and beaten down.
Crickets chirp, the sound almost comical. The breeze blows through Akaya and Marui’s hair.
When Akaya says nothing, Marui takes a few steps closer to him. The ball in his hand is repeatedly thrown upwards and caught once again. "Jackal was hit pretty hard earlier."
"I was hit, too," Akaya's eyebrows furrow, and Marui raises an unimpressed eyebrow. The very moment he lost, he felt the hit coming before it even landed. His cheek throbs at the memory, smarting against the crisp, evening air.
"Uh-huh," Marui snorts. "You look terrible."
"Are you laughing at me?" Akaya scowls.
"Maybe. It was a stupid move, but you know that already." But no trace of mirth could be found in Marui's eyes.
Akaya doesn't regret it, still.
He didn't really know what he was aiming for, then, when he took Echizen Ryoma on. Other than the fact that Akaya never, ever backs down and takes anything from anyone , all of it was to perhaps prove something, to both himself and that Seigaku brat. A display of his and Rikkai's power, and an affirmation that he was strong enough to defeat their upcoming opponent and anything in his way.
And yet the tidal wave of the limit he's been pushing against crashed down on him, drowning him with the pain of the reality of failure. There can be no losing. Even Marui-senpai reminded him of what they were aiming for: Rikkai's third consecutive championship. He was inspired by their first, he witnessed their second, and he was now actively working towards their third, with the strongest regulars team in the middle school circuit.
Even if they weren't complete, they could still win.
But he remembers Yukimura-buchou's fragile frame, stuck in a hospital bed with tubes connected to him, all the elegance and power Akaya had known and looked up to during his two years at Rikkai blurred underneath a sickening, sterile smell, confined and compressed within white, soulless walls. He remembers their task of carrying on the fighting spirit their captain left them with — and therefore none of them are allowed to lose.
But today, and through his loss, no less, Akaya discovered he has bigger heights to climb. Even going beyond their promise to Yukimura-buchou and their duty to uphold and maintain Rikkai's title, there existed a sheer, burning desire in Akaya that enveloped his entire being. Defeat the Three Monsters. Become number one. And go even beyond.
He doesn't want to lose anymore.
"Then don't," Marui says.
Akaya’s head whips to look at him, dumbfounded. He doesn't know he said that out loud, and he reddens, fully prepared to take whatever teasing he's going to receive.
And then, illuminated by the large lamp post of the outdoor tennis court like a spotlight, shadows under the features of his attractive face, Marui-senpai cracks a smile. It is neither mocking nor filled with ridicule. Instead it is so natural, so like Marui, Akaya feels a bit of his apprehension melt away. It is the smile he always gives to Akaya, the one he’s been familiar with since the very first day he came to Rikkai.
Marui steps even closer, settling beside him. His shoulder bumps against Akaya's, and he feels warmth blossom from where the point of contact is. Somehow despite how cool it is he feels sweat run down the back of his neck.
Akaya jolts when he feels something hit him suddenly, and Marui is smiling at him as he is pressing the tennis ball against his chest.
"All you have to do is win next time, right?"
There is a lump in Akaya's throat that he forces himself to swallow, and he gingerly takes the ball from his senpai's hand. Their calloused fingers brush against each other. The fuzzy ball feels raw against his blisters.
"...Mhm."
Next time. There is still the Kantou Tournament Finals. It may be very unlikely that this will be his chance to make up for his loss, what with his placement in Singles 2, because Rikkai will take the championship in three straight matches for sure. But if it ever comes down to it, he will redeem himself and face Seigaku’s Fuji Shuusuke with the tennis he’s built up all this time, and he will win. Whatever it takes him.
He meets the other boy's eyes once more.
Marui-senpai is positive — one of the most cheerful people Akaya knows. He always moves forward. And somehow, more than not minding his own business, he always takes Akaya along with him when he does.
Right now he is so close he can smell the sweet apple bubblegum scent of his breath. From this distance Akaya can see just how full his lips are, and how long his lashes are, and he thinks that this person's popularity at school isn't really a mystery. Akaya remembers that lately he's been thinking that the bright red of Marui-senpai's hair is his favorite shade.
"Come on, Akaya," he is snapped out of his thoughts when a finger flicks him on the forehead, and Marui-senpai begins to walk off. Akaya simply watches him. Somehow, even with his narrow shoulders and his short stature, Akaya finds himself realizing that the image of his back is reliable, displaying a quieter, leaner sort of strength.
Despite him being the easiest of his senpai to get along with, he is still someone who Akaya looks up to.
Marui pauses and looks over his shoulder, “What’s wrong? Hurry up, I'm hungry. Let's get some ramen or something."
Akaya feels his stomach grumble at the mention of food. It's only now that he realizes he’s been practicing for so long. Akaya hurriedly runs over to grab his tennis bag where he left it on one of the benches. "You're paying."
"Yeah, whatever,” Marui sticks his hands in his pocket, and he waits for Akaya to catch up to him as he lags behind, stuffing his racket inside his bag. The tennis ball he slips into his pocket. Something in him is telling him to keep it safe.
“Wait, really, senpai?” Akaya’s eyes widened. They begin to walk out of the tennis court.
“With Jackal’s money.”
"Nice."
As Akaya falls into step beside Marui, he wonders just why his heart feels at ease even as it’s racing.