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It’s not that he ever wanted to play the sport in the first place — kendo is absolutely the last thing Jouno would choose to hinder him from getting home an hour early — rather, it ended up obligatory considering his ‘acquired reputation’, or however it was that Fukuchi had decided to word it out of what Jouno could only presume to be half-pity.
Jouno would proclaim, in his utmost defence and as presently stirred of an individual he was, that Tecchou had won purely out of a bias the referee had towards him. He was more ‘suited’ anyways, practically built for the sport (unfair; quite infuriating, actually). Jouno can just feel that smug look that spears through his skull to set in stone the oncoming of another headache as in turn, he deals a light thump to the brune’s arm in defeat, huffing rather dramatically.
“Don’t act like you possess any real dexterity with your shinai– which, might I remind you, that you lug around more akin to a brick than a sword.” Jouno waves the other off as though he predicted some variant of a smug comment at the very least.
“I don’t think so, but it clearly works—”, Tecchou shrugs, “maybe if that’s how you see it, you’re actually just too careful.”
“How insightful,” Jouno scoffs, tapping his cane down against the pavement as he exits the hall, “next time I suppose I should punch you in the throat?”
Tecchou quirks an eyebrow, evidently having had considered the effectiveness of Jouno’s alternative for a moment— following his classmate, he comments on the quip regardless,“I think that’d land you an early disqualification.”
“Oh? I hadn’t the slightest of an inkling, please grace me with your wisdom more often.” The other clicks his tongue, slowing only to level with the other to save him craning his neck back to follow the conversation.
The brune utters an ‘of course’, likely accompanied by that stupid grin that usually finds itself paired with whatever smugness he may voice next. Much to Tecchou’s surprise however, their conversation had fallen flat after that, receiving no more than a scoff from his classmate.
To have described his irritation in plain thought, Jouno could have strangled the foolish upstart of an individual beside him. Tecchou had actually grown taller than Jouno since he’d last noticed; he now finds himself frowning beneath that familiar warm presence that dares to loom over him as they walk. It was quite daunting, considering Jouno had been the taller of the two up until last summer— it was now however another point to poke fun at Jouno, who had hardly grown to just average height, whilst the passing comments towards how tall Tecchou was had become enough to irk him further.
His train of thought however, is stunted by the arrival to his home, where he only vaguely recalls waving Tecchou off, later contemplating whether he actually had even done so as he slumps over onto his bed. Jouno wonders, curled up on the mattress on his side— he can’t actually imagine a reality where someone really likes Tecchou for his so agonisingly mundane personality. But with further contemplation, that observation falls short of a lie when considering the fact that the brune had dated before him (further wounding Jouno’s very fragile ego even still). There are some interesting things about him, Jouno would dare to admit, not to mention the fact that he knew Tecchou was attractive— particularly from his requested ‘observations’ from a certain Teruko Ookura. In spite of all his musing, he had only one conclusion to make.
He hated Tecchou Suehiro.
—
Kendo practice was always on a Wednesday and a Friday. Jouno showed up to neither the following week.
Jouno missing practice once or twice was of no concern to Tecchou, he presumed his classmate was only bitter— the other had always taken his losses as though they carried the weight of someone’s death as opposed to serving as a motive for improvement. Simply said, ‘competitive’ was a vast understatement for Jouno’s attitude towards the sport (or anything, for that matter). However, Tecchou’s patience soon smears over the line where it blends into sheer curiosity upon being met with his classmate’s absence for a third time— only then does he opt to seek Jouno out, chasing him up during their shared free period.
“What’s with not attending practice?” Tecchou hums, eyeing his classmate from behind.
“Can’t be bothered,” Jouno says, not long before whipping his head around, elegant features contorted into a frown as he detects the other having just been on the verge of countering his initial answer, “don’t try to interrogate me, Tecchou, you’re more than free to leave me be.”
Tecchou’s eyebrows furrow in response to the way Jouno spits his name out as though it were a curse; a forbidden utterance holding centuries of misfortune. With the way the other’s expression doesn’t waver it’s almost as though a frown had been permanently etched into Jouno’s face for the past week. The abrupt retraction of Jouno’s first remark sparks a further curiosity in the brune, who recognises an even bigger oddity in the brittle excuse.
“If this is about your losing streak—” Tecchou starts, before being quite harshly cut off.
“Do not call it that.” Jouno snarls, swatting a hand in the air as though to wave away his classmate’s impudence— though upon noticing the moment of hanging silence, he feels obligated to continue, “I just have no incentive to attend at the moment, unlike you, I care for my academics.”
“No you don’t.” Tecchou corrects, noting how Jouno only ever studied if he absolutely had to, which wasn't often given his natural knack for humanities.
Jouno presses a knuckle into his temple in vexation, soon turning to the brune with an overly theatrical sigh, only aiding to perplex Tecchou even more.
“This is why you’re the worst —” he says inwardly, before jabbing a finger in Tecchou’s direction, “you’re just here to piss me off!”
Tecchou thinks, Jouno’s mood is exceptionally soured today, prompting that there was likely more to things than his outward display of exaggerated gestures and fatuous jabs.
“Would you like my help?” He finally offers the faintest hint of a lax grin falling upon his otherwise neutral visage.
Jouno can only part his lips in wordless retort as his already ill-suited frown worsens in gravity, as though the simple offer of help was the most colossal setback humanity had faced for centuries. He knows the smugness behind the request, and he knows the embarrassment that comes with either answer. There’s a visible twitch of his eyebrow as he then sighs, having granted himself a moment for composure
“Do you genuinely, honestly take me for such an imbecile as to stoop to levels so low as asking you for help?”
The other frowns in mock amusement, eyebrows raising at the irony that is his classmate’s terribly blatant hypocrisy as he waits for Jouno’s inevitable continuation of his newly founded rant. It was a rather typical thing for Jouno, actually, Tecchou’s sure the other could argue with roadkill if he felt insulted enough by it, and sure enough he’d find a way to claim he’d won.
“How would you even help?” Jouno points at the brune, as if his next remark is meant to wind up as accusatory, “I mean, you’re useless as it is—”
Tecchou shrugs, offering a small ‘OK’ in response as he finally concurs with Jouno’s attitude, turning on his heel to leave. This however, those two letters, and such a gesture in combination, was enough to set him off fully— the idea of Tecchou heeding to his wishes and actually leaving proved more insufferable than anything he’s ever done so far.
Thus, Jouno cuts in, spinning Tecchou around by his sleeve before he can take another step away.
“You don’t make any sense! You’re just going to leave after you make such a ridiculous proposal with zero further context?” Jouno declares, throwing his arms up in protest before realising that the theatrical gesture was a little much for even him at the given moment.
“After your last period, I’ll help you out.” Tecchou confirms, prying Jouno’s fingers off his sleeve before turning away again, that same grin still unwavering, and he’s certain the other knows.
After a garbled display of upset (unintelligible, mind you), Jouno huffs in response before phrasing his irritation in as much coherence as he could fathom, “I didn’t even say I wanted your help! You can’t just assume I’ll show up for the sake of humouring you!”
Such assumptions, in Tecchou’s defence, were never short of true— a further demonstration of the fact seeing how Jouno did comply, the case of his shinai lugged over his shoulder as he sighs, clicking open the backdoor to the hall as he steps in, clearly reluctant in proving his classmate right.
“Oh, so you brought your shinai.” Tecchou hums, moreso a statement towards himself, than a request for confirmation from Jouno.
“No, I brought a fucking baseball bat,” he snaps back instantaneously, folding his cane and setting it to the side, “don’t be dense, Tecchou.”
Jouno had always been like that when it came to what he personally perceived as an unnecessary question— which was, anything that Jouno already knew the answer to in his head. Given the remark, and how they’re usually passed back and forth between one another, Tecchou plays into the insult as he watches his classmate remove his shinai from the fabric case.
“Unfortunately that’s a weapon.”
“Oh my mistake I mustn't have noticed,” Jouno retorts, shoving the empty case into Tecchou’s arms, “moron.”
Tecchou takes the case, setting it down against the wall before prompting Jouno to take a stance— which he does, again reluctantly so.
“You hold your shinai very rigidly; the weight throws you off, here—” Tecchou remarks, stepping in beside him.
The taller of the two places his hands over Jouno’s, taking his lower hand to move it to the bottom of the handle, more effectively balancing the weight. Then however, does Jouno recollect the very train of thought that really stunted his attendance to practise, that being, Suehiro Tecchou himself. In opposition to Tecchou’s advice, Jouno finds himself subconsciously even more stiff in his grip of the weapon, almost shrinking away from Tecchou’s verbal acknowledgment of the fact before he feels the weight of his shinai shift into the brune’s hands entirely as he demonstrates, hands still clasped over Jouno’s, a proper distribution of the weight.
“You’re breathing in my ear.” Jouno comments in mock annoyance, regarding how Tecchou retracts his hands, stepping away to allow his classmate to revise his stance. Only then does Jouno realise how awfully warm Tecchou’s hands had been— and it doesn’t take him long to almost mourn that warmth.
“Sorry, I’ll suffocate in silence then.”
“Don’t tempt me with unrealistic blessings.” Jouno snarls.
Notwithstanding Jouno’s outward stubbornness, Tecchou watches him adjust his grip on the sword, clearly attentive to the advice received. A rather flimsy stance, however, the brune had noted before kicking his classmate’s front leg out and causing him to stumble. Seeming to aid to Jouno’s bitter disposition, Tecchou represses an all too obvious laugh behind his fist.
“What is wrong with you? Did you lose the ability to phrase your halfwitted instructions?”
For a half second, Tecchou considers throwing Jouno entirely off balance, thus validating his claim, though instead he opts to shake his head, “It felt more convenient.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.”
The snide comment is brushed off habitually— a type of nonchalance that came so naturally with their bickering by now. Tecchou had resulted in taking Jouno through each stance, correcting and revising bad habits with the odd eruption of crisis, exclusively on Jouno’s behalf upon a certain correction rubbing him the wrong way— which most did. When the time did come for the two to leave for the night, Tecchou felt it appropriate to raise his ever pending question.
“You’ll come again next week?” He asks, passing Jouno the case for his shinai, “Once you feel better about it you can actually go to practise again.”
“I never once said this would become a weekly activity, unlike you , I have hobbies.”
“What, like making babies cry for sport?” Tecchou prompts, as though a suggestion.
“I literally do not do that.”
He understood Jouno didn’t actually care for practice, he’d go because he really didn’t have anything else to do (despite his false claims of leading a far more eventful life than he let on), but prying an honest answer out of Jouno after hearing him swear down on a certain lie was nigh impossible, Tecchou knew that much.
Following the threat of the conversation falling flat, Jouno follows up as he steps through the door,
“I’ll see you next week, Tecchou.” He waves a hand, a sigh following Tecchou's inevitable win— that being his compliance to his classmate’s scheme.
And much to his own surprise, Jouno stayed true to his spur of the moment declaration, heeding again to Tecchou’s advice the following week, and the next few— and there came with it an ever present anticipation, an anticipation that so typically swept away any rational thought he would have previously generated. To not understand what said anticipation was had him equally sick at the only notion he could settle on, and thus it became something Jouno had instinctively attached a sort of forlornness to, whether out of retaliation towards his own conscience, or just to avoid the sinking feeling of doubt he’d since tried box away.
It wasn’t a new feeling to Jouno— though with his one avoidance scheme having backfired so horrifically, Tecchou’s presence is now far more recurring than it was before, with the two seeking eachother out during free periods for the sake of practice. There was no normal way he could steer clear of the closeness created between the two, and Jouno felt guilty that he dared to indulge in such a thing and enjoy it. He’d noticed how long the two longer pieces of the brune’s hair had gotten, particularly whenever Tecchou would lean over him to correct his handling of his shinai or something of the sort, and they’d fall ever so delicately over his wrists— the most vast contrast of all to his personality. When they’d started sparring again, Jouno also came to realise truly how differing in stature the two were with the way Tecchou’s presence seemed to consume him during their practice like that. It wasn’t that Jouno never realised, he was fully aware of their difference in height, yet he’d never cared for it till now.
In any other instance, Tecchou’s height was just another part of him that made him more irritating, though lately he’d really noticed it— an overwhelming distraction, Tecchou had become; he wouldn’t put it past him for it to have obstructed progress too. Additionally, Tecchou wasn’t above laughing at Jouno’s mishaps lately, and that filled the shorter of the two with more ire than usual,
“Would you stop it with that?” Jouno snaps, jabbing his shinai upwards as it strikes his classmate across the chest, sending him staggering back a few steps back as Jouno’s eyebrows furrow in surprise.
Neither of them had worn any protective gear the entire time, as it was never intended that either of them would actually hit each other. There’s even the slightest hint of concern that washes over Jouno’s visage for half a second before he hears his classmate speak.
“That’s the first time you’ve done anything productive for the past five weeks.” He comments.
“Shut up, Tecchou.”
Tecchou shrugs, rubbing his palm into his chest once over the forming bruise as he slips his shinai back into the case, soon heading back off to get changed again as Jouno waits upon the set of stairs just outside the hall.
“I know you’re not wearing your tie properly.” Jouno claims as soon as he hears Tecchou step through the door.
“What’s it matter to you?”
“You never do, and I know it makes you look like a freak.”
The brune frowns, querying to himself why it should ever have been an issue to Jouno in the first place— though he understands that asking such a question now would rid him of the opportunity to ask what he’s been itching to for the past few weeks.
“Do you want to talk about your issue yet?” He asks, as off-handedly as possible— soon realising that likely wasn’t the best course of action when talking to Jouno.
“My issue ? You think I have an ‘issue’ now?” Jouno turns his head at what he perceives as an accusation, clearly more than dumbfounded.
“Yes, since before I started helping you. You’ve been off.”
“What is off to you, Tecchou?” He snarks, standing up off of the steps as he reconsiders his initial approach, “Actually, you know what, you are my issue, you’re so fucking annoying and you just don’t shut up.”
Jouno finds his fingers curling into his pants as he sits, a nervous habit he’d retained since when he was a child, and Tecchou’s lack of retort serves to fuel that nervousness as he feels compelled to speak again amidst the small silence he had created.
“You don’t shut up, and I hate it. I hate it so much, because I like when you speak and that’s stupid . I can’t do anything, I really can’t, you just have to make everything so much harder for me than it already is, and you’re too stupid to ever realise anything because you so desperately want to assume anything but the fact that I give a shit.”
Tecchou stands atop the first of the three steps, looking down at his classmate as he continues his incessant barrage of emotion.
“I really like you— I really do and I hate that, and I hate that you’re so stupid,” Jouno scoffs, dragging a hand down the side of his face as the humiliation sets in, “and now you’ve made me feel like a moron, all because you don’t have the capacity to think!”
And then Jouno wants to apologise. The silence he’s created reminds him of that as it hangs so greatly. He stands for a moment, assuming Tecchou, despite everything, did understand him. He wanted Jouno to establish clarity.
“Alright— could you just—” he pauses, hand for a split second fanning over the expanse of the brune’s chest before he sighs, jerking the other forwards as he tugs at his tie, “your tie, please—”
The other emits a soft hum and nods, partially disgruntled as he eyes Jouno through his feigned retreat. He usually does end up fixing Tecchou’s tie for him, it was never the case of him being unable to do it properly, it was more so it wasn’t to Jouno’s personal standards. As Jouno pulls back, he seems to only half register the way his hand dragged down Tecchou’s tie, as if that semblance of touch was grounding for a moment. Not a breath disrupts the long five seconds wherein Jouno remains still dumbfounded, subsequent to his aforementioned confession— the utterly dreaded words that bounce off all sides of his brain repeatedly.
“Tecchou, I don’t expect you pity me, I know well enough it’s stupid, but could you at least spare me that halfwitted stare and say something—“ his protest is cut short as the slightest tug of his collar has him lurching forwards in much greater fashion as Jouno registers the sudden movement as he finds his body flush against Tecchou’s own, fingers still twisted uncomfortably in his collar as he feels the warmth now against his lips, Tecchou drinking in the soft sigh let out by Jouno in relief as he grasps the reciprocation of his feelings.
Finding the other’s fingers at his collar, Jouno pulls them back as for his hands to sit instead more comfortably to cradle his cheeks as he in turn tilts his head, near gasping at Tecchou’s tongue so briefly flitting against his teeth as Jouno catches the end of a thread between his fingers for a moment as the other shifts his hands again.
“Tecchou—“ he falters over the others’ name, despite it being the only thing he could conjure as he pushes a hand against his chest, thus separating them.
“Why’d you stop?” Tecchou asks in all his nonchalance, though a quietened concern seeps through his words nonetheless.
He scoffs, taking the other by the hand as he runs lithe fingers across the thread around Tecchou’s wrist, “You’re annoying. I cannot believe you’re wearing that—” he falters, frowning instead as he rolls one of the charms between his fingers.
“You gave it to me ‘cause you like me. I always wear it.” He states, matter-of-factly.
“I gave that to you when we were twelve,” he drawls off before giving himself the chance to complain again, considering that five years of him avoiding Tecchou like the plague had him forgetting the bracelet even existed.
“What’d that say about you at twelve years old?” Tecchou raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t be so irritating,” he shoves the brune in the elbow, lips curled downwards with great effort following his mock upset, “only you could make this so childish!”
Tecchou then presses his lips to Jouno’s forehead, before allowing himself to laugh inwardly.
“What?” Jouno snaps, as though intruding on an inside joke.
“A lot of surface area to work with, tried to fill the empty canvas.”
Jouno’s mouth audibly clicks open in disbelief.
“What is your problem—?”
“Forgot that fun is akin to dying when it comes to you.” Tecchou grins.
The other crosses his arms over his chest for a moment in his (predominantly) feigned upset, figuring that was as much as he’d tolerate as he sits down again, dragging the other with him. Too soon however, Jouno finds himself shoving a hand over his classmate’s mouth before he can speak again, sensing another comment that would likely elicit some kind of unwarranted reaction.
“If you could quite generously shut your mouth, I’d take it as a personal kindness.” He speaks, leaning his head into Tecchou’s shoulder, finding his hand to lace his fingers with the latter’s.