His Smile

Midorino Mizu

Disclaimer: Tennis no Ohjisama and all associated characters are the property of Konomi Takeshi.

Author’s Note: This morning, I decided I wanted Marui x Jiroh. I then proceeded to write…Marui x Yukimura. Go figure.

______________________________________________________________________

“I don’t want to go,” Marui said. His voice was uncharacteristically distant, and nearly emotionless. “I’ve got things to do.”

Six pairs of eyes turned to stare at the redhead. Marui was leaning against the fence at the Rikkaidai courts, his pose deceptively casual.

“I’ve got to take my brothers somewhere.”

Niou opened his mouth, as if to ask why the hell he hadn’t said something before, instead of waiting to last minute, and didn’t Marui realize that Yukimura was expecting all of them, but his tirade was forestalled.

“That’s fine, Marui,” Renji said smoothly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to make it another time.”

The redheaded volley specialist nodded stiffly and snapped his gum. “Sure,” he said. “Another time.”

Renji nodded, turning back to the rest of the team. “We should get going,” he said calmly. “Visiting hours are short today.”

“Wait!” Marui called out. He fought a blush as six heads turned in tandem. “Uh, could you take him this?” he asked. “You can tell him it’s from me.”

Renji nodded, reaching out to take the pale cream and blue pastry box from Marui’s outstretched arms. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, Marui.”

Marui swallowed. “Yeah, thanks,” he muttered. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then.”

Maybe tomorrow, he thought, he wouldn’t be so scared. Maybe he’d actually be able to visit Yukimura. But right now, he couldn’t.

Not yet.

He shuffled off, fisting his hands in his pockets, and wondering what he was going to do with the rest of the afternoon. Practice had ended early – there was a break before they had to play their semifinals match against Fudomine Junior High – and Sanada had grudgingly consented to give them a break, so that they could all go see the captain.

But Marui Bunta wasn’t going to go to the Kanto Regional Hospital today. He couldn’t face seeing Yukimura like…that.

Yukimura Seiichi had always been pale and a little too thin; a delicate boy who had drawn gazes from the day they had both entered Rikkai Dai Fuzoku as junior high freshman.

No one, including Marui, could believe that the other boy would survive on the tennis court; he was graceful, but it wasn’t the same athletic grace that defined his own movements. It was different, and Marui had underestimated the quiet, smiling boy.

That first day of tennis club practice, they had been paired in a match, and Marui had learned to regret his hasty judgment, because Yukimura Seiichi played tennis extremely well.

Afterwards, they walked home together, wandering the streets of Yokohama aimlessly, their tennis bags slung carelessly over their shoulders, talking and laughing

They drew stares, two twelve-year-old boys with bright smiles, wind-tousled hair, and uncommon grace, who somehow walked as if they owned the street.

Later that afternoon, Marui had introduced Yukimura to his favorite strawberry cake.

He smiled a little at the memory, raking bright hair out of his face. Yukimura had had one small slice of the silky cake, and then had just watched with a smile, his blue eyes sparkling, as Marui devoured the rest. Marui had thought then, and sometimes still thought now, that Yukimura’s smile was a little different when he was with him.

Marui huffed out a breath, watching pebbles and gravel skitter as he kicked out his legs. He wanted cake now, he thought.

But he’d already given his away.

***

The next day at practice was mostly uneventful, Marui reflected. He and Jackal played tennis against Yagyuu and Niou, who had apparently decided on an identical look for the occasion.

Marui didn’t ask. It was generally better that way.

In all other ways, it was a perfectly normal practice. Akaya had made every attempt to wreak havoc of some sort, and had generally been thwarted by the rest of the Regulars. Sanada had pushed them all hard, as if to make up for his leniency from the day before. Renji had observed. It was what Renji did best, after all.

Practice proceeded as it normally did, until late in the afternoon, when the sun was sinking in the west.

He was volleying with Jackal, and Akaya was at an adjacent court doing the same with Renji. This was another usual practice at the Rikkai Dai Fuzoku tennis club; Sanada firmly believed that cool-down exercises should use their tennis skills just as much as regular practice.

“Hey, Yanagi-senpai,” Marui heard Akaya say. “Buchou didn’t look so good yesterday, did he?”

The junior’s voice was preoccupied, but definitely worried. As if he was afraid of what would become of all of them, if Yukimura didn’t get better.

Renji seemed to glance, just briefly, at their volley specialist, before answering. “He looked the same as usual, Akaya.”

“Nah, he was…” started Kirihara argumentatively, before Marui’s voice, bright and cheerful, interrupted him.

“I’m going to get a drink, Jackal,” he said. “Be right back.”

It took a careful eye to see that his face was unusually pale, and that his hand was clenched around the handle of his racket.

Jackal glanced over at Renji. The strategist’s expression hadn’t changed much; it never did. But after three years, he’d learned to judge the nuances. Renji was getting a little worried about Marui – he and Jackal were the only ones who knew that there was something deeper and different about Marui and Yukimura’s relationship.

Jackal switched his gaze off-court, towards the clubroom and water fountain. Marui had disappeared completely from sight, he thought, but that didn’t matter. He knew exactly where his partner was. He always went to the same place when he was upset.

And he was definitely upset. For just a second, the tall senior reflected, no longer, Marui had looked terrified and almost shattered. As if the pressure was getting to be too much for him.

He almost wanted to shake Akaya for putting that expression on Marui’s face, even for a moment, Jackal reflected as he carefully put his own racket in his bag and headed slowly towards the locker room. But maybe it was for the best. Marui needed to stop pretending that nothing was wrong, that everything was the same as it had always been.

The clubroom was quiet as he stepped inside, and if he hadn’t known better, Jackal would have said it was empty.

But he did know better. The tall senior walked purposefully to the furthest line of lockers, the lockers that were never, ever used, except by one person.

Marui always sat there when he needed to think; Jackal had found his partner there several times in the years they’d worked together.

“Mar…” started Jackal as he rounded the corner, before he stopped dead, staring at the scene before him. He’d never, ever seen Marui like this. He hadn’t even dreamed that Marui could be like this.

His doubles partner was curled into a protective ball on the clubroom floor, his head resting on his knees, his bright pink hair covering his face. He had never, Jackal reflected with a certain degree of alarm, looked so miserable.

“Marui,” Jackal sighed. He bent down, draping his arm across the other senior’s narrow shoulders. “Akaya didn’t realize what he was saying.”

“I know,” came a muffled voice. Marui lifted his head and swiped a hand over his damp gray eyes. “I just…”

“Couldn’t take it anymore?” supplied Jackal.

“Yeah,” sighed Marui. He took a shaky breath, resting his forehead lightly on his knees again.

“You’re making it worse for yourself, you know. It’s a mystery this way; you don’t know how Yukimura is.” Jackal hesitated for a minute before continuing. “The things you can imagine are far worse than reality.”

Marui’s lips curved in a small, humorless smile. “Do you think so, Jackal?”

“Yes.” Jackal stared at his closest friend for a long moment, and he remembered the moment when the other six Rikkaidai regulars had crowded into Yukimura’s hospital room.

The captain’s smile had faltered, just for an instant, when he saw there were only six. Again.

“He misses you,” he finally said. “You aren’t doing either one of you a favor, behaving this way, Marui.”

The redhead was silent, and Jackal finally pulled himself back to his feet, turning to walk away. If Marui was going to be stubborn, there was really nothing more he could do; he might as well go back to the courts. Let his best friend handle this in his own way.

But Marui’s voice forestalled him; it was shaky, and far more subdued than it had ever been before.

“What time are visiting hours tomorrow, Jackal?”

Jackal’s mouth curved in a relieved smile. “They run until four.”

“Ah,” murmured Marui. “Can you make excuses for me at practice tomorrow?”

“I’ll go with you,” protested Jackal.

“No,” Marui said. “I…think that I need to do this alone.”

“Oh,” said Jackal. “Well. Then I’ll make up something for Sanada.” Their fukubuchou didn’t tolerate unexcused absences. And he wouldn’t understand why Marui wanted to go alone.

“You should get up,” Jackal continued. “Everyone else will coming in soon.”

“Yeah,” said Marui. He rose to his feet and smiled at Jackal, a lopsided grin that was almost like his usual smile. “Thanks, Jackal.”

Jackal smiled back, his eyes crinkling a little. Maybe his friend would go back to the way he used to be, now. He’d been worried and agitated for months, and he’d been miserable since Yukimura had had to go into the hospital. He’d pretended to be happy and cheerful, but he’d been miserable.

Jackal just wanted Marui to be happy again.

***

The hospital smelled strange, Marui thought. Sterile, with a faint chemical smell overlaid with the headier scent of flowers. He didn’t feel comfortable with it, and a part of him itched to turn around and walk back out. But he wouldn’t do that. Not this time.

He was probably going to get in trouble, Marui mused, since he’d bypassed check-in, and had just headed towards where Jackal had said Yukimura’s room was.

He wanted to surprise the captain, and a nurse would have announced him, he was certain.

Marui paused in the doorway of the hospital room. Yukimura didn’t see him yet; he was standing at the window, staring out.

He was a little thinner, Marui noted critically, and a little paler. And he looked sad, and a little lonely, he continued with a pang of guilt.

Marui hadn’t even thought about what his staying away would do to Yukimura – that had been selfish of him – but he’d try to fix things now.

“Hey, Seiichi,” he said. He grinned when the other boy whipped his head around, his blue eyes flaring wide, and a smile started to curve his mouth.

He’d missed seeing that smile, Marui realized. He’d probably missed that more than anything else.

Marui stepped into the room, his smile turning a little sheepish.

“I brought you a cake.”

“So I see,” Yukimura said, light amusement and something else lacing his voice. He reached around Marui, closing the door, and tugging the shorter player further into the room, back over towards the window. For a long moment they stood there in silence, just staring out the window at the hospital gardens.

“Isn’t it practice now?” Yukimura finally asked. “You shouldn’t skip.”

Marui glanced at the captain, before he lifted a shoulder and grinned impishly at the taller boy. He set the cake box down on the nightstand, and turned towards Yukimura.

“I had something more important to do,” he murmured, his fingers dancing lightly across the soft skin of the other player’s pale cheek. He leaned up, and brushed his lips across Yukimura’s in a lingering kiss.

“Someone more important to see,” he corrected with the slow smile he never showed to anyone else, only to Yukimura.

Yukimura smiled back, and it was, Marui thought as he tangled his fingers in the captain’s dark hair, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.