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"Gen'ichirou..."
The blood in Sanada's veins ran so still, he could have believed that only motion of his muscles, drawing him fore and aft in his kendou practice strikes, kept the circulation running through his body. He knew it was an illusion to think his heart had stopped cold, but he felt it all the same. And then, as if making up for lost time, it sputtered to life, racing out of all order the way Yukimura always made it do.
"I thought I might find you here," his classmate laughed. "Oh, but don't stop on my account. I love watching you practice."
He hadn't noticed his arms coming to a stop. Now he tried to lift them back up into their usual joudan stance, but he couldn't get comfortable in his motions. It felt like there were weights tied to every limb. His rhythm was gone. There was no way to keep a constant stride when one man entering his doujou could make time seem to race out to infinity and pass in interminable seconds all at once. There were ways in which having him stand as near as the doorway in this echoing hall was agony, worse than the acid burn of playing until his muscles could no longer take the strain. But he could never flinch, or show that for a second, because showing weakness in front of Yukimura Sei'ichi was like asking to be broken and thrown away when you had nothing left to give.
Knowing him could hurt, but watching him leave would be intolerable.
"What brings you here?" he asked the tennis captain. He could force himself to speak normally, to strike down normally with his bokken, even if he had no other control.
"I would've thought that was obvious, Gen'ichirou. I haven't seen you alone since we spoke last week. You know, I don't like being avoided."
He choked on his breath for three more strikes, flashes of last week in his mind, insisting that Yukimura take shelter from the rain so he wouldn't get sick, apologizing for acting like he had a right to tell his Captain what to do. He knew how Yukimura disdained being taken care of, but he'd acted without thinking.
"I haven't been avoiding you," Sanada said, once his voice would let him.
He could hear Yukimura's poison smile plain as day when he answered, "You haven't been walking me to the bus stop either. There's always something terribly important to do, which seems an awful lot like avoiding me. But let's not argue semantics. Do you have an answer yet?"
Sanada finished his hundredth strike in silence before he put his sword up on the wall, then walked to his water bottle -- where Yukimura had unflinchingly positioned himself. One more time in an uncountable number of times, Yukimura's words from last week raged through his skull. The way he'd said, no, he didn't like being taken care of. He'd never needed another person, and he'd always preferred it that way. How Yukimura's smile when he'd turned back around had made Sanada think for a moment that the Earth had stopped moving. Sanada hadn't even heard the raindrops through Yukimura saying, "But I've been thinking I might try depending on you. So if you wanted to pull me out of the rain, I thought I'd wait for you to do it. Do you think I can make myself need you, Gen'ichirou?" But the bus had come before he'd unfrozen enough to make sense of the question, and the feel of Yukimura brushing lips against his ear to whisper, "You don't have to answer right now. See you at practice," had left his mind blank for the rest of...
His mind was still blank, to be honest.
"Yukimura..."
"You know, even Renji calls me Sei'ichi. I was hoping, if I got you alone, you'd manage to as well." With a sigh, and a wide-eyed liquid gaze that Sanada knew better than anyone was the product of hours of study in how to look disarming, Yukimura handed him his water. The hours of study, and the memory from freshman year of Yukimura wondering in front of the mirror whether he could manage it, didn't make his gaze any less effective. The urge to cup his classmate's cheek in his hand and promise anything he wanted nearly tugged the heart out of Sanada's chest. But he kept silent. He didn't know what he was doing yet. "Do us both a favor, Gen'ichirou. Don't answer me until you can say yes. Then I'll tell you if I'm still interested."
Which, settled his immediate problem, but still left the awkward silence while he waited for Yukimura to make his inevitable exit. He'd seen his captain deliver similar ultimatums over the years, although generally on the subject of someone's commitment to tennis, and not their commitment to him in particular. Now it was his turn to watch Yukimura walk away, tall and proud and unassailable. Every tick of the clock when it didn't happen, Sanada grew more confused.
Finally, Yukimura broke the silence with another sigh. "Honesly, Gen'ichirou. If I didn't want to see you, I would have let you avoid me. Now that I'm here, I'd like to see some swordsmanship. Finish your practice, or we'll miss the last bus and I'll expect you to walk me all the way home."
"Of course," he said, taking his sword back off the wall. One simply didn't tell Yukimura Sei'ichi, 'No'.