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Rou had an infestation problem. Of the postal kind.
The whole thing started simply enough: a single letter found its way to his new home in Tomakomai a few weeks after he'd arrived. In its entirety, it read:
your hair is pretty and you smell nice and you skate good
- hana
rou fanclub president
It was signed in crude kanji and decorated with wobbly little hearts, etched out in radioactive pink marker. The fan-letter was unusual. Typically, his fans would single out a moment in a specific routine that made their hearts soar, or would attach a picture of a particular outfit that they thought looked absolutely adorable on him. But this one was bare of such details. It honestly reminded Rou of the kind of handicrafts he and Haruna would make back in elementary school, so he figured it must have come from a younger fangirl. Even if it was a cold reminder of the path he'd left behind, the gesture still touched him.
So he kept the letter, thinking it'd be the last remnant of his disgraced past that the wind would carry up north to Hokkaido.
It was not.
Over the following weeks, a deluge of letters flooded his grandfather's mailbox. They'd stream in maybe once or twice a week, either individually or in batches. Since Rou was in charge of mail duty, Haruna never questioned him about them. They all came in plain white envelopes, sometimes sealed with a heart sticker and addressed to him, though they were absent of postage or an address, and read things along the lines of:
you are good at skating
rou-kun you are so beutiful
your triple axl axel is amazing
you were so awesome when you danced to that song about ducks swans
come back to tokyo
marry me when we're older
i will always support you rou-kun
Each was signed by a new fangirl: Yuki, Fuyumi, Aya, Junko; none of which Rou had ever heard of before.
And that was the thing: he wasn't dumb enough to believe that he'd suddenly gotten a burst of popularity ever since he was banned from figure skating. And there was something else that made the whole thing fall apart: they all had the same horrible, chicken-scratch handwriting. Every single letter. At least, whoever wrote them should've made it believable and forged different writing styles.
He asked Haruna if she had sent the fanclub their new address, and she had responded with a disgruntled, "Do you think I'm stupid, Rou-kun?"
Well, that only left one possibility. There was no one who knew their new address but the Genma brothers, and everyone knew there was only one of them who would dedicate his time to such a childish, petty endeavor.
It came as no surprise that the letters started rolling in not long after Genma Keiichi had lost the exclusive rights to the frozen pond rink. The constant requests of "coming back to Tokyo" made it evident that he'd been trying to lure him back through the letters. It was one last desperate effort to get Rou out of his territory for good.
But was this really the best he could do?
It amused Rou to no end. It made him laugh uncontrollably every time a new letter came in the mail, and he imagined Genma hunched over himself, pen in hand, scribbling out his terrible approximation of a girl's musings. Soon, he began keeping the letters in a dedicated folder to read in times of boredom, whenever he needed a good chuckle.
Rou's plights and sacrifices only multiplied once he started high school. Every day after school, he was subjected to the grueling, archaic torture methods that Coach Nihei liked to call training. His nights bled into his days, and he fought through the exhaustion to prove himself, to carve a new path that he could feel proud of. Only one good thing came out of those first few days of school: he found himself in the same classroom as the younger Genma brother, and was able to confirm the source of the letters. He could recognize that handwriting by heart, by now.
Even when they'd been meant as a sort of repellent, the letters became a salve on the blisters and sores, a source of levity for Rou's spirit. So he took a few of them to school on a whim, and hung them up inside his locker. That way, whenever he needed a pick-me-up before the hell that was practice, he would find it right where he needed it most.
One day, when Rou was desirous of such motivation, he spent a long time in front of his locker, just re-reading them with a smile. He started speaking to himself as if he was addressing them back, like he used to do in conferences and fan meetings back in the day. All in jest, of course, but no one else knew that.
"Don't worry, my loyal fangirls," he said in his media-trained voice. "I'll try my best to show you various charms through ice hockey from now on."
In his peripheral vision, he could sense a presence that was as familiar as it was unwanted. Predictably, it got closer, and as it did, it started to speak.
"Who are you talking to? You finally gone crazy? That'll make the team look bad, you know."
Typical Genma, trying to make things worse than they actually were. Unwilling to put up with it, Rou looked him straight in his square irises and responded, "What? You jealous, Little Genma?"
That ought to have been enough to provoke him, and it was. Genma emitted a little noise of anger, somewhere between a doggish growl and a bovine hum, as he inched ever closer into Rou's personal space. "Why would I be jealous of you? Watch yourself, figure bastard. I can still paint the goal lines with your blood any time I want," he said as menacingly as he could muster, which to Rou wasn't really effective. Genma's anger had always resembled that of a caged chihuahua, seemingly unbridled but ultimately harmless.
"Oh, you can? I'd love to see you try. They'd probably come out as lopsided as your bangs," Rou countered. The jab obviously tampered with Genma's cool, for his only response came as an aborted growl. At one point as they stared each other down, though, Genma made the mistake of looking to Rou's locker, as if he had suddenly remembered why he'd addressed Rou in the first place.
He took a glimpse at the letters and all the rage sizzled out of him, a brilliant but short-lived flame. In its place, a single bead of sweat appeared on his browbone. Since they were so close, Rou was able to hear the gulp traveling down his throat before he spoke again.
Genma's voice came out shakier than usual when he asked, "What's that?"
He was pointing at the locker, but pointedly avoiding looking at the letters themselves. Bingo, Rou thought. He doesn't know that I know that it's him. Rou saw this as a chance to play along with Genma's own ruse and tarnish his ego in the process.
"Oh, this? Just some refined letters from my fanclub. Something brutes like you will never be able to relate to, will you?"
That was enough to set Genma off, fangs bared like a fiend. "As if a hockey player would need a dumb little fanclub," he said, voice still turbulent. "Why don't you do what the letters say and go back to Tokyo, hmm?"
"How do you know what they say?" Got him.
Genma froze for the second time in the conversation, his fists closed tight by his sides and his eyes darting frantically around the room. "I'm just guessing," he gulped, actively avoiding Rou's eyes.
"Are you, now?" Rou asked, sweet amusement tinging his voice.
Genma just pushed past him. "Move, I gotta go."
It was uncharacteristic for Genma to leave without getting the last word in. Rou just waited until he was out of earshot to indulge in thunderous laughter, echoing down the locker room without a care, and clicked his locker door shut.
After that incident, as if by a jinx, the letters stopped. It was obvious that Genma felt exposed, or maybe he wanted to "punish" Rou by depriving him of his terrible, terrible handwriting. And in a way, Rou felt that loss. How was he supposed to get his laughs in, after all?
Though if he was honest with himself, he didn't just find humor and laughter in the letters. Even if the words were meant as mockery, he found an amount of solace in them. And it also meant that Genma had been paying close attention to him. He'd noticed when the letters had become more detailed, more careful with the things they said. (And also, one of the letters mentioned the sunken goalpost, which... seriously?) Rou felt that the letters were Genma's way of showing acknowledgment, even if it was wrapped in layers of dishonesty and derision.
At times, Rou wished they could be friends. They had more in common than they wanted to admit, and a link to the ice that could bond them together. Instead, it had torn a wedge between them that Rou couldn't possibly dream of mending. Not without Genma's cooperation, anyway. So he had resigned himself to their unamiable fate, unwilling to wait for a miracle.
But the thought of Genma thinking he smelled nice, or that his hair was soft, or that he was beautiful in general, did something to Rou that was much too early to determine. But he wasn't opposed to it at all. He just wished Genma had the strength to say it to his face.
With the letters gone, Rou threw himself fully into hockey. His eating habits were in top shape, which in turn led him to developing a body fit for the intense training he had to bear through. Bit by bit, it started to become more bearable. He was making strides in his playing ability, and had tweaked his skating technique to be more proficient in the field. It was no secret that he had started to gain favor with Nihei, and he was quickly accepted as the member of the Oinokami Ice Hockey Club who had the most potential.
Not even Genma could keep pretending that Rou was just a burden to the club. In fact, he'd started praising Rou in his own way, though shame still stuck to his gaze like sticky film. It was a step in the right direction, but Rou still wished Genma could just be honest with Rou and with himself.
Time flickered by. Rou had all but forgotten about the letters when, without warning, a new letter appeared in their mailbox. Without needing to check who it was addressed to, he knew it was for him. The scrappy white envelope said as much.
He had to reprimand himself for the way he skipped back in the house and all but ripped the envelope open. He'd forgotten all about the joy he'd felt all those months ago. So much had happened since he'd gotten the first one. There was no artifice to this, he knew it wasn't a fan ready to shower him in praise. It was Genma wanting to tell him something, even if it was cloaked and opaque, and that alone was enough to excite him. Giddy, he opened the envelope and unfolded it, to read—
meet me at the pond at 2 pm.
ALONE.
keiichi
The letter fell gracelessly from Rou's hands, like the last leaf of a tree felled by a hurricane.
There was no way Genma was coming clean. It couldn't be, right?
Haruna was waiting for him at the genkan. "I caught him last night, when I was taking out the trash."
"W-Who?" Rou mumbled.
"You know who. He was putting a letter into the mailbox. I told him, 'He already knows it's you. If you have something to say to him, say it to his face.'" Peering over Rou's shoulder, she added, "Seems like he took it to heart. Genma Keiichi is a man of action."
Rou blinked, still in disbelief that A. his sister knew what was going on with the letters, B. that she knew something was up with Genma, and C. she had essentially set the two of them up. He regained his bearings and bemoaned, "Haruna! Did you scare him away?"
"I mean, he scampered like a frightened rat and dropped about thirty envelopes in the process," Haruna divulged as if she was reciting a weather forecast.
The mental image gave him pause, and he burst into peals of laughter. It was much the same kind of mirth he used to experience back when he imagined Genma writing the letters.
"It's not that funny," Haruna deadpanned, struggling to retain her own composure. "Okay, maybe a little," she relented, Rou's laughter too contagious to resist.
At that moment, Rou realized that whether he'd meant to or not, Genma had become the source of much of his happiness lately.
Huh.
With that thought fresh on his mind, he grabbed his skates and marched on down to the frozen pond where they'd first met.
Rou had grown terribly attached to the place. He loved the clear, crisp ice that formed atop it, which would sometimes be muddled by a passing fish or two; he loved the purity of its air and the beauty of its scenery. He acknowledged the significance of it for Tomakomai, and for the Genma brothers.
The younger of which was a silent apparition atop the ice, lingering near the goalpost that had been the cause of so much friction between them. As he saw Rou arrive, he tried to pretend like he didn't.
Skilled and thorough, Rou quickly bridged the gap between the two in silent glides through the expanse of ice. He was face-to-face with Genma Keiichi, who for the first time, wasn't belligerent, or abrasive, or resentful. Instead, his face was dusted with redness, which he desperately tried to hide with his scarf. His eyes didn't meet Rou's until the very last moment, when it had become impossible for them not to.
Shyness was something Rou never expected to see on Genma.
It suited him.
"Hey," Rou said, as unassumingly as possible. He didn't want Genma to chicken out, after all.
"Shut up," Genma countered, the typical gruffness to his tone undercut by his flustered disposition.
"I haven't said anything, though. What is it that you wanted to tell me--" Rou seized the opportunity to tease, "--Mr. Secret Admirer?"
It was cute, the way Genma's blush intensified when he said those words. Rou liked it. An aborted noise left Genma's lips, still muffled by the scarf.
"Take this," was all Genma could manage. His massive gloves fumbled a little with the delicate material, but he managed to hand it over to Rou.
Another envelope, pristine and white like the kind Rou was so used to.
"A letter?" Rou asked. "You could've just put this in the m—"
"Shut up," Genma ordered. "Just read it."
Well. Rou couldn't exactly say no to that, could he?
"Here goes nothing," Rou declared, tearing open the envelope and pulling out the sheet of paper within.
His eyes roved over the words with as much leisure as he could muster, wanting to savor Genma's embarrassment for as long as he possibly could.
hey.
if youre reading this its becasue your sister forced me to i have something to tell you. she said you already knew but i still wanted to say it.
im the one who wrote all those letters. i wrote them cause i wanted you to leave tomakomai but i guess it didnt work out. i stopped writing them because it was embarrassing to see them in your locker. and also because i was afraid you would find out . which you already did so whatever.
kouichi also caught me writing them one day and it was really embarrasing.
and also because i think youre actually cool and pretty and all those things i said in the letters. and because you skate good and i hate that youre soo good and everyone is your fan now or whatever. i hate you but i like you and it made me so mad that i had to write it all down.
you probably hate me anyway so i guess you should have another reason to do it.
so if you dont wanna talk to me anymore or whatever thats okay. i just wanted to say it.
keiichi.
Rou finished reading the letter with ease, already more than used to deciphering Genma's horrible handwriting. The handwriting which he'd grown fond of without intending to, much like he had with Genma himself. Before he knew it, he was smiling, and then hunched over in laughter. He laughed so hard that he lost his balance completely, and fell ass-first onto the ice.
Genma stared at him bewildered, eyes wide and blush deepening; he was definitely embarrassed at the fact Rou was making fun of him. Still, he offered a hand out for Rou which he gratefully held onto.
"Thanks," Rou managed to stand up between hiccups of laughter, still deeply entertained by Genma's letter.
"Whatever," Genma said, averting his gaze and sounding more than a little hurt. "I'm gonna go."
Rou grabbed Genma’s gloved hand with his own before he could go too far. "Wait," he said, straightening himself up. "You really mean this?"
"Yeah," Genma replied through muffled embarrasment. Rou swore Genma's eyes were turning glassy. "And what about it?"
"Nothing," Rou said. "It's just that... It's funny that you think I hate you."
Genma blinked. "Huh?"
"If I hated you, I would've thrown all those letters of yours away the moment I got them," Rou explained as if he was a toddler. "I mean, how obvious could you be?"
Genma just stared ahead, perhaps wishing the ice would crack under him so he could just drown. "So... You don't hate me?"
"No," Rou said, gliding the tiniest amount closer to Genma. "Well, maybe at first. But not now. I liked the letters. They made me feel nice," he continued, making sure Genma's eyes were on him the entire time.
"They did?" Genma asked again, his IQ seemingly reduced in shock.
"Yeah. I like that you paid attention to me," Rou said, taking Genma's other hand in his. "You've always liked me, haven't you?"
Genma tore his eyes away, desperately seeking escape. Rou's hands weren't holding him anymore. Instead, they had migrated upwards to lower his scarf and finally reveal his lips.
When their lips met, it was the softest contact they'd ever shared. It was chaste and sweet, just a light press that didn't speak at all of the strength either of them held. It was the first time they were equally inexperienced at something. It was a moment Rou wanted to engrave into his mind; to overwrite the first impression they'd shared in that very place.
As they parted, Rou took in Genma's face for the first time that day. It was even more flushed than he thought, maybe because of what they'd just done. He looked almost angry, the most common expression Rou knew on him. But if he really looked into Genma's eyes, he could see satisfaction and even enjoyment reflected back at him.
"You're shaking," Rou said, cupping Genma's face between his hands. "Should I kiss it better?"
Genma couldn't escape, so instead he just complied. "Whatever," he mumbled, and that was all Rou needed to dive in again.
Later, Genma would vehemently deny the fact that he dropped thirty letters on the Shirakawa driveway, despite numerous evidence to the contrary. Rou thoroughly enjoyed reading through them in Genma’s lap.
Rou's mail problem was fully resolved after that. No more letters were delivered furtively in the night because they didn't need to be.
Whenever he really needed the praise, he didn’t even need to ask. It was given to him freely, in person, and sealed with a kiss.