Work Text:
Yukimura Seiichi wakes to the sound of his mother’s voice. He squints at first, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light that floods his vision. His room is awash with early morning sunshine, the yellow so pale it is almost white.
When he sits up, he shakes his head as thought to rid himself of the previous evening’s dream lingering still at the edges of his sight.
He stretches as he comes to his feet, acutely aware of the aches in his lower back muscles, the tightness in his joints. With eyes focused on the sunshine that warms the floorboards, he begins to work out the kinks in his shoulders, before moving on to rotate his hands at the wrists, relishing the feeling that accompanies the tiny popping sound underneath his skin.
Finally, he walks towards his window and reaches out to check the leaves of the bonsai that is sunning itself on the sill. He sighs out a quiet good morning to himself.
“Oh good, you’re up.”
Seiichi turns a look over his shoulder. Eiri is already dressed in her uniform, her freshly-pressed blouse tucked neatly into her skirt. Her hair is pulled back from her face by two pins and he cannot help but tilt his head as he tries to place what it is that is different with her.
The thought occurs to him both instantly and belatedly: His baby sister is growing up. It is this that prompts him to walk over.
“Tell mom that I’ll be down in a minute.” He comes to a stop on the otherside of the arch, shoulder leaning idly against the frame. He lifts one hand to brush a wayward strand from her eyes and he gives in to the urge to lightly tweak her nose. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Eggs, toast, fish.” She tilts her head in a mirror of his own, giving him a look that simply asks: Are you okay? But all Seiichi does is shake his head, the smile on his lips a shadow as he brushes past her to head to the bathroom.
——
He lingers by the fence before the first bell of the first day in his first year of senior high.
The courts are empty. There is nothing to distract his eyes from appreciating the angles and the lines that define his arena. Even from several feet away, the sight of it prompts the echo of adrenaline that might course through his veins, the sheen of sweat moistening his forearms and the power rippling through him as taut strings connect with a ball. Fingers curl unconciously around the strap of his bag, craving the solid feel and weight of a racquet.
“I had a feeling I might find you here.”
He turns at the voice, the sound of it both familiar and unexpected to his ears.
Three years may have passed, but Muraoka Tsubasa still looks the same: with an easy smile and a near-forgettable face, there is very little that would make the older boy memorable. But Seiichi remembers. And as such, he smiles and nods his awknowledgement to one of the very few upperclassmen he can truthfully regard with genuine respect.
——
“I heard about your... well, the state you were in last year.”
They sit on the bench typically reserved for the coach that Rikkai has never needed. Beyond the fence, the school is slowly coming alive as the quad welcomes the new school year.
“This won’t mean anything,” Muraoka leans forward, the senior balancing his elbows on the very edge of his knees. “But I’m–”
“The loss was unacceptable,” Seiichi interrupts, and he lifts his eyes to regard his sempai’s profile. It is not easy to say the words that he does, but he gets them out nevertheless. “I... had not come to terms with the truth that I needed more time to recover.” He toys with the strap of his watch, a gift from his father from a recent trip abroad.
“You went through a great deal, Yukimura-kun.” Muraoka murmurs and Seiichi looks up to see the sunlight cutting across the older boy’s features. For a moment, he steels himself. The last thing he needs is pity. He had never tolerated it from the others, he will not accept it now.
The senior lifts a had to halt any protest on his part. “Please, let me be frank. I’ve seen the rapport you have with Sanada-kun and Yanagi-kun. You three are equals in a way that I could never aspire to be.”
Memories assail Seiichi in this moment. Though he is here, on this bench, with Muraoka-sempai, he is also in the junior high tennis courts; it is the Friday of his first week in the tennis club and he stands several inches shorter than he does now.
I don’t want to name names and put anyone on the spot, but let’s just say someone saw how you defeated the Captain and Vice-Captain Sato.
“I’ve also had the opportunity to watch your team.” There is a stress of pride when Muraoka says your team, and in spite of himself, Seiichi feels himself relax.
No. It is not pity in Muraoka’s voice. He is not sure what it is, but it is not that.
I don’t know what’s going to happen to the club now, Yukimura-kun. What I do know, is that your skill is something Rikkai needs and would be stupid to ignore.
Try to understand, none of the third-years will be inclined to listen to a Freshman captain the team. I know I’m nowhere near as half as good as you are, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to learn anything you can teach me.
“Always win, Rikkai.”
There is a look that passes over the senior’s eyes, but it is gone before Seiichi can make any further note of it.
“You were right, you know.” Muraoka bows his head forward, his eyes focus on the court, on the net, and further still.
“Right about what, senpai?”
“When you asked why; why if the motto of never losing was so important – how come we were content to just be the best in the Kantou Region, but never manage to land first place at Nationals.”
Seiichi threads his fingers together, rests his mouth against his twined thumbs.
I’ll to take on the title, but the authority is yours. And then next year, you’ll be captain and there will be no question that you earned it.
“You were right about us not aiming high enough.” Muraoka expells a breath. “We didn’t, not until you came along. Two straight wins for Nationals.”
The elder boy leans back, meets Seiichi’s gaze once again.
“Last year’s loss was unfortunate, true. We’re not close, but I’ve seen you play and I know that you would never have settled for second had things been different.”
Seiichi isn’t sure what to say to that, so he focuses again on the watch, his eyes skimming over the face of it while his mind recalls the birthday dedication inscribed on the back.
“But two straight wins. That’s something, Yukimura-kun.”
The senior rises then, one hand picking up the backpack that he’d set on the ground.
“This is supposed to be my year as captain. But I have university to think about.”
The older boy tucks one hand into the pocket of his uniform pants and smiles.
“So I’ll just leave everything up to you.”