Chapter Text
Sawakita's party was in full swing. It was 11 PM, and the atmosphere was shifting from a friendly social buzz to an out-of-control avalanche; the number of people appearing at the front door was still steady. Sawakita had initially greeted everyone with the Charming Ace persona he’d adopted in the US - a byproduct of his humbling experience abroad - but now, a line of pressure creased his brow. Many of the guests were treating the interior in a distinctly unguest-like manner, and the house was a rental.
Rukawa was being his usual sulking self, which actually made him seem like an exemplary guest compared to the rowdy crowd. Sawakita felt a sudden urge to go over and vent to him about the situation. He was on the verge of asking for help - while Rukawa was likely to refuse, he certainly wasn't held back by Sawakita’s own desire to act "friendly"- but as he got closer, Sawakita noticed Rukawa looked unwell. In his hand was a half-full glass containing a bright blue drink that definitely wasn't part of the pre-party haul. Even under the dimmed lights of the corner where he’d retreated, Rukawa looked sickly pale and unsteady, slumped against the wall. He didn't even notice Sawakita at first.
"You okay, Rukawa?" Sawakita asked, his senpai instincts taking over. They were adults now, past twenty-one and legally allowed to drink even here in the States, but Sawakita was the host and he felt being nosy was justified. "Maybe you should put that glass down. What even is that?"
Rukawa shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "It looked nice," he muttered - a pathetic reasoning for his choice. Miyagi had mentioned that Rukawa seemed under the weather earlier, but now he looked significantly worse. He finally gave up on the drink, abandoning the glass among the others cluttered on the bar. "Need some air."
"Yeah, sure." Sawakita trudged to the window and glanced toward the backyard. The patio was empty. It was about 45°F out - a chill that explained why everyone was inside wrecking the house instead of lounging by the pool, which likely felt like an ice bath.
At that exact moment, some idiot jumped over the staircase railing, semi-landing on a cupboard and knocking it over.
"Hey!" Sawakita yelled, but his angry host voice was drowned out by the thumping music. He needed to kill the volume and give a formal warning. He jogged back to Rukawa.
"You can go to the patio, it’s empty." He gave him a light nudge toward the back door. "Sorry, I have to handle this before they tear the house down."
Rukawa simply nodded, unbothered by his abrupt departure. He slunk toward the exit with a lethargy that left Sawakita with a faint sense of unease.
A few minutes later, Miyagi walked in after a short conversation with another player on the porch. Both had already felt the air bite and used it as an excuse to end the awkward exchange. Miyagi had gone out for a smoke, a habit he wasn't proud of and was determined to quit, or at least keep hidden from his guys. Back inside, he took a look around. There were supposed to be numerous athletes at this party, but this hardly seemed to be the case right now. His inspecting gaze caught two of the three: Sakuragi was next to the billiards table, engaged in a boisterous dispute and not bothered by any emotion-driven mistakes in his English. Sawakita seemed to be trying to pull some guy who was using the staircase railing as a slide, which ended with the guy dropping onto the ground and Sawakita rushing down to check if he had accidentally broken the guy's neck. Perhaps some assistance wouldn’t hurt.
“All good, Mr. Ace?” Miyagi asked when he got to him.
“Not really,” admitted Sawakita and let out an exaggerated sigh. “I might have been too nice when giving out the invitations. I just wanted it to be a great American party!” Then his expression changed, obviously having remembered something. “Could you please check on Rukawa? He seemed quite out of it just now, I’m a bit worried.”
“Uh, sure.” Miyagi’s shoulders tensed up and he squared his posture. “I told you he wasn't feeling right earlier,” he said, his brow furrowing. “I had to use my ex-captain authority just to get him out of the apartment, but maybe I shouldn't have pushed it. He's been in a foul mood since his fight with Hanamichi this morning anyway.”
“He went to the patio for some fresh air.” Sawakita pointed toward the glass door situated behind Sakuragi and his current audience. “Can you go check on him? If he’s still feeling bad, I’ll unlock a bedroom so he can take one of his naps.”
“What a caring host you are. Yes, sure, I’ll go.”
Sawakita didn't catch the sarcasm and smiled at the compliment before noticing something that made him yell and charge up the stairs with breakaway speed.
Miyagi moved toward the patio, a twinge of guilt settling in his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t have insisted on Rukawa coming, but he hadn’t realized the younger man felt that ill. He’d hoped that dragging them out together would force a reconciliation; they currently weren't on speaking terms, which was unpleasant, to say the least. They weren't his teammates anymore, yet he still felt a lingering responsibility for them. It was unnerving how they’d reverted to their old ways, as if six years hadn't passed. They were still a duo: playing for the same team and even sharing an apartment. He had thought moving to a new continent together would bridge the gap, but it seemed the move had only reset them to their default settings: "Idiot" and "Fox."
He peeked through the glass backdoor and frowned, letting out a “Huh?”. The patio was empty. The loungers were scattered and messy, but there was no sign of Rukawa. The pool water was oil-black, reflecting the shadows of trees swaying in the wind. Where had he gone?
He ducked back inside and found Sakuragi. He was mid-story - the Sannoh win, Miyagi realized as soon as he heard "nine seconds" - complete with wild exaggerations and theatrical expressions.
“Hanamichi,” Miyagi said, pulling at his sleeve, acutely annoyed by the height difference yet again. “Have you seen Rukawa?”
“Uh, what?” It took him a second to process the question. “No, and I don’t want to. He’s probably hiding somewhere like the sulking fox he is. Let him be.”
“Sawakita said he looked out of it, and he was sick earlier. He’s supposed to be on the patio, but he’s not there.”
Sakuragi opened his mouth to dismiss the concern, but his expression shifted mid-scoff. His eyes narrowed, and he abruptly waved off his audience, gesturing that he’d be back. “He’s not there?”
“No,” Miyagi led him to the door and slid it open, exposing the dark patio. The chill was immediate. “See?”
Instead of turning back, Sakuragi’s gaze locked onto a single spot: the pool’s surface. Miyagi followed his eyes, confused. He looked at the 7-foot depth sign at the far end and squinted. It was hard to see through the darkness, but now he noticed a slight disturbance on the water - a faint trail of bubbles. And worse, the pale silhouette visible beneath. His stomach dropped so violently that he froze on the spot. How the hell had he missed it? It must have been at least a minute, maybe even two, since—
Water splashed everywhere as Sakuragi dove headfirst in, shoes and all, snapping him out of the shock immediately. Miyagi turned back and called out for Sawakita, his yell sounding more like a roar, and then rushed toward the pool edge. Sakuragi had somehow broken the surface already and pulled Rukawa with him, one arm locked around him like a vise while swimming toward the middle of the pool, where it was shallower.
Miyagi dropped to his knees and reached out to help pull him out, but Sakuragi seemed not to even notice he was there or consider using the ladder; he just planted his feet and, in a single terrifying motion, heaved Rukawa out onto the concrete tiles before vaulting up and getting out himself with a frog-like leap. He hovered over Rukawa immediately, and Miyagi scrambled next to him, feeling his heartbeat going haywire. His vision was getting blurry, too.
Rukawa’s eyes were closed, his skin was a leaden shade of gray, and he wasn't responding at all. Sakuragi didn't slow his pace for a second, having already begun the compressions. He was uncharacteristically silent, but a raw, naked panic had seized his entire face. Miyagi wanted to help - he needed to - but his body was betraying him. All he could do was stare at Rukawa and see Sota as he must have looked back then. It was happening again. He had looked through the glass and seen nothing. He had missed him.
“Oh my god!” He heard Sawakita’s high-pitched scream behind him, but he couldn't look away. The sound helped him snap out of the trance partially, and he noticed Sakuragi’s compressions were uneven.
“Hanamichi, stay on the beat! One, two, three, four - harder!”
“I know!” Sakuragi snapped back, but he adjusted his rhythm.
Miyagi could hear Sawakita behind him, frantically calling for an ambulance. He’d grabbed a cordless phone from somewhere, and his speech had morphed into shrieking broken English that would have been hilarious in any other situation. Sakuragi’s compressions were getting rougher, his massive hands pumping against Rukawa’s chest like a beast. Miyagi felt like he could hear the vibration in the concrete, expecting a bone to snap at any second.
“Careful! Hanamichi, you’ll break his ribs!”
“No, no!” Sawakita’s yell intercepted his. “Break them if you have to! Just don't stop!”
“SHUT UP!” Sakuragi snarled, drowning them both out. It didn’t even matter who he was listening to; they were all seeing the same thing - the CPR wasn't working. Miyagi could not tear his eyes from Rukawa’s face and how dead he seemed. Sawakita’s frantic babble to the operator blurred with the lights of the house and the dark sky. Sakuragi wasn't stopping, wheezing words in between movements that Miyagi barely registered.
“Come on, you idiot, come on!” Sakuragi leaned down to tilt his head back and deliver a rescue breath. Miyagi tried to speak, but the lump in his throat was suffocating. “Don’t you dare sneak out like this... don’t you dare leave me…”
And then, in a heartbeat, the world shifted. Rukawa let out a jagged, wet choke and his body twitched. The tsunami of relief that hit Miyagi was almost lethal. As Rukawa started coughing up water, Miyagi lunged forward, supporting his head and rolling him to his side to make sure he cleared his lungs.
“IT WORKED!” Sawakita was suddenly between them, one hand outstretched to help while the other gripped the phone to his ear. Miyagi finally looked at him and saw the tear tracks that were still streaming down his face. “Oh, thank God... thank God!”
Miyagi felt himself smiling; he couldn't stop it, though he felt like crying, too. Rukawa was still coughing, but he’d managed to sit up slightly and looked so alive it made Miyagi feel lightheaded. Still breathing hard, he turned to Sakuragi, who had just performed yet another impossible feat.
“Hanamichi, you did it! The genius did it!”
Sakuragi’s gaze was fixed on Rukawa until it briefly locked with Miyagi's. But then, the adrenaline seemed to vanish. He suddenly turned to the side and collapsed onto all fours, dry heaving as he struggled to catch his own breath. Sawakita rushed to him, but Sakuragi needed space. Death had come for his rival, and he had managed to give it the boot. The reality of it was only just now sinking in. Some of the guests were peering through the door, but Sawakita stood up and chased them back inside with a scary determination on his tear-streaked face.
“Emergency services will be here any minute,” he announced, mostly to Miyagi. On the ground, Sakuragi and Rukawa were both doubled over, gasping at the cold air. Miyagi stood up, his legs shaking, and went to find a towel or anything to cover them. The past was a faint shadow on his thoughts now; thanks to Sakuragi, history hadn't repeated itself.
He had just finished wrapping them in the blankets Sawakita had brought out when the EMTs arrived. They seemed relieved to find a much-alive Rukawa - as they should have been. Miyagi still hadn't fully comprehended the insanity of the last few minutes, but he knew Sakuragi had once again disregarded the laws of physics. Rukawa was running a fever and seemed dazed, perhaps drunk, but the near-drowning made it hard to tell. Sawakita mentioned the blue drink and even offered to fetch the bottle for toxicology, though the medics didn't seem interested in a lab test right there on the lawn.
“He has coughed up most of the water, it seems,” declared the lead paramedic. “And his ribs aren't broken, though there’s some bruising. He’ll be in pain for a while. You did a great job with the CPR.”
She was talking to Sakuragi, but he didn't react with his usual genius antics. He just gave a faint nod and turned away again, his blanket sliding off his shoulders, though he didn't seem to notice. Rukawa was even less talkative than usual, but his alertness spiked the moment they tried to lead him toward the gurney.
“No,” he suddenly rasped. “No hospital.”
The medics were not amused. “Kid, you almost died. We need to monitor you. We need to check your bloodwork. If that drink made you dizzy, it might have been spiked.”
“I’m fine,” Rukawa insisted, his voice cold. “No hospital.”
“Oh my god!” Sawakita caught him by the shoulders, his grip frantic. “Rukawa, stop being so stubborn and stupid for once, please! What if you die tonight!”
As frustrating as his tenacity was, Miyagi understood. He also absolutely hated hospital stays. His own admissions usually happened while he was unconscious, or he probably would have fought them, too. Looking at Rukawa, he could see this wasn't just his usual antisocial self. He looked vulnerable and ashamed - and the looming nightmare of an American hospital bill wasn't a great motivator, either.
Rukawa persevered. “No hospital. Home.”
“I can watch him,” Sakuragi spoke up. His voice came out raw, and he had to cough mid-sentence to clear the lingering burn of the pool water. “He won’t budge, but I can watch him at home. If he starts dying again, then hospital.”
Sawakita put his hands on his hips. “Well, it can’t be helped with you two. I have private doctors who can visit in the morning.” He looked at the EMTs, trying to activate his usual Charming Ace persona. “If I call... uh, private doctor to house... we don't go to hospital? Please?”
“It’s a bad idea,” the lead medic’s disapproval was evident. “But if he refuses to come, we can’t force him. He needs to sign a Refusal of Medical Assistance form first.”
Rukawa obediently scrawled his signature across the document, leaving multiple wet spots behind. The EMTs tried to coax him one or two more times, but when they realized it was futile, they began listing symptoms to Sakuragi - things to watch for, things that meant he had to call 911 immediately. Sakuragi gave a solemn, heavy nod for each one. Miyagi watched them, wondering if he should just demand they both be hospitalized. Neither of them looked remotely stable. He was going to stay at their place tonight to watch over them; that was certain.
“I will drive you home!” Sawakita declared as the EMTs reluctantly began packing up. “Just stay here, no need to walk. I’ll handle everything.”
Miyagi grabbed the abandoned cordless phone from the patio table and called his roommate to let him know he wasn't coming home that night or the next day. For Rukawa’s dignity, he kept the details vague and ignored the barrage of questions. Looking at the two wet bundles on the ground - his ex-teammates - he wondered how they were even going to make it to the sidewalk.
Soon, the glare of Sawakita’s gray SUV appeared in the distance, getting closer until, with a mechanical growl, Sawakita veered directly onto the lawn. He tore through the grass and drove over a ceramic garden gnome, killing it with a sickening crunch. The high speed, combined with the emotional wreck of the night, rattled Miyagi; he stepped in front of Sakuragi and Rukawa, half-expecting them to follow the gnome’s fate.
Sawakita’s driving didn't waver, though. He pulled right next to the pool with an impressive, grass-tearing drift. He hopped out, wincing at the deep ruts he’d carved into the turf, before flinging the back doors open.
“Everyone on board! Your ride is here!”