Disclaimer: I own neither PoT nor the characters therein.
A.N. I'm still working on the follow-ups/sequels to Wrong and Oblivious. One of them should be up soon. :).
Written for kalamitykat for the FudomineLove fic exchange on LJ. Enjoy!
Rhythm
Akira's hands twitch. His stomach clenches from the nerves.
Some things are worth risking everything to gain.
An steps outside, looks around. He raises his arm and waves, the aches from today's match forgotten. She sees him and smiles, and his breath hitches.
She jogs over to him, grinning, chattering something about Seigaku, but as she sees the expression on his face she slows down, falls silent. He tries to perk his lips up in a grin, but it feels ghastly. Fake. It slides off his face before it even begins.
She stops in front of him, asks if he's all right. Worried. Oblivious. Completely unaware of what he's going to say. Akira feels drops of sweat sliding down his forehead. His throat is parched. His hands clench into fists at his sides, so tightly the too-short nails cut into his palms.
After the match, I have something I want to tell you.
Slowly, trembling, he reaches out his hand and wraps it around hers. He licks his lip, swallows, takes a deep breath. She looks scared. Startled, with wide round eyes. Her hand is clammy.
It's there, under the hot sun with the cheers from the stadium in the background, that he tells her. A year and a half of watching, hoping, wondering if he's good enough for her. The words come easily once he starts.
When he finishes there's a long, long silence, and then An's asking for some time to think and looking like she's going to cry when she walks off, and Akira feels his heart drop and wonders if he'll ever feel whole again.
Some things are worth risking everything to gain. Akira just didn't know risking everything would hurt this much.
Shinji's waiting in the kitchen when Akira gets home, sitting at the table and sipping a soda. He doesn't say anything, which is a blessing, so Akira sits across from him and slumps over and lays his head on his arms. It's unnaturally quiet in the house. The window's open and the air sucks the curtains close then pushes them away with maddening irregularity. It's all out of rhythm.
Akira feels Shinji looking at him, knows his friend just wants to know how it went. But Akira doesn't want to tell Shinji – not yet, not when he's not sure himself. So instead he asks where his mother and the girls are, and Shinji tells him they went out for supper. Akira doesn't bother to ask where his father is: it's 9:00 PM on a Saturday. There's only one place Kamio Sosuke would go. Shinji doesn't say anything else either, and for a while they just sit there, Shinji playing with the soda bottle, Akira staring off into space and thinking of nothing in particular. Finally Shinji sets the bottle down and says he's going home unless Akira wants him to spend the night. And Akira almost says yes, but then he thinks of his dad and the look on An's face, and he says 'no thanks' instead.
Shinji throws the bottle in the trash, but before he leaves he comes up behind Akira and puts a hand on his shoulder.
'She's worth it to you,' he says, and leaves.
'I know,' says Akira as the door clicks shut. 'I know.' But when he shuts his eyes he hears the clock ticking and the neighbor's cat meowling and the wind pushing the curtains back and forth, back and forth, and where it used to sound soothing now it's disjointed. Cacophonous. There's no rhythm in it anymore.
An doesn't go to the semifinals. Tachibana-san leaves during one of the matches, and when he comes back he looks at Akira out of the corner of his eye. Akira fidgets. He wonders what An told Tachibana-san. Wonders if she told Tachibana-san what she thinks of him.
Akira stares out at the court and knots the bottom of his shirt around his fingers. Three games pass, but he has no idea what the score is. Doesn't really care, either. Then he feels something moving his hands and looks down to see Shinji's fingers untangling his from the shirt. It's crinkled. Torn, in a couple places. Shinji pats his arm and sets it by his side.
Akira tries to pay attention to the match after that, and, to an extent, it works. But then, after a really amazing volley, Akira looks up with a grin to see what his captain thinks, and Tachibana-san's not paying attention to the match. He's watching Akira, and there's a knowing look on his face that jolts Akira out of the rhythm of the match. He can't get into it again all night.
There are three days of rest between the semis and the finals. Fudomine's on vacation for a week, and the team's dispirited after their last, disastrous matches in the tournament. Akira and Shinji are playing videogames at Shinji's house when Tachibana-san calls them and says to be at the street courts in half an hour.
The team's all there when Akira and Shinji arrive, with one notable exception. Because An's as much a part of the team as Mori or Ishida or Tachibana-san himself. It's the first time she's missed a practice since they got to permission to reform the club. Mori wonders where she is out loud before practice starts. Akira flushes and bites his lip before he can stop himself, and he can feel all of them looking at him, doesn't need to imagine the slowly dawning looks of realization on their faces because he knows them too well. It seems like forever before Tachibana-san tells everyone do to twenty laps to warm up.
Akira doesn't feel like joining in on the banter today, so he falls behind the pack and puts on his headphones. He makes it a full four minutes before switching off his walkman. The rhythm's just…off today. He's not particularly surprised when Tachibana-san jogs up beside him. They run in silence for a while, Akira trying and failing to find a beat in the sound of his teammates' sprinting. But then Tachibana-san slows down and motions Akira to do the same.
'I don't know what you told An,' Tachibana-san says when they're out of earshot of the others. 'I think I can guess, though.'
Akira says nothing. His face feels hot.
'You're not the only one who did,' continues Tachibana-san.
Akira jerks to a stop, his breath short and not because of the running. Who would- but even before he finishes asking the question his mind supplies the answer.
'Momoshiro?'
The pat on the his shoulder is all the answer Akira needs. Tachibana-san should have punched him in the gut instead: it would have been easier and had much the same effect.
Tachibana-san gives him a sympathetic sort of smile before he starts jogging again. Akira watches his back for a few seconds, then sprints to catch up.
'She just needs some time to think,' Tachibana-san says once Akira catches his breath. He says it kindly, but Akira can hear the protective older brother behind the words. 'Kamio..'
His voice is serious. Akira looks up at him, swallows.
'What if she doesn't choose you?'
Akira misses a step. His fingers bunch up his t-shirt. It's the one question that's been on his mind for weeks, and he's still not sure how to put his answer.
'She is…she's still An-chan.' Akira looks up. Tachibana-san's watching him, face blank. 'Nothings gonna change that.'
She's precious to me. Even if I'm not to her. Akira doesn't say it. He can't. He doesn't think he could even tell Shinji. But it's what he means.
Tachibana-san seems to understand. He doesn't say anything, just smiles and keeps on running. But the look he has – it's the same one he did when he appointed Akira vice-captain. Proud. Pleased. Satisfied.
Tachibana-san puts Akira in charge that day. Like a test run, he says. The team needs to get ready for next year – and so does their next captain. Might as well get the beginner mistakes out of the way now.
It's not the first time Akira's been left in charge. Tachibana-san's had his fair share of sick days. Usually when this happens, Shinji and An give him helpful suggestions, and An runs around with her video camera 'for posterity.' Everybody knows she takes the tapes back to her brother so he won't miss anything. Akira's never been fond of that video camera at practice, but something's missing without it. Without her. It's just not the right rhythm.
The next morning Tachibana-san corners Akira before practice starts to discuss how he did the day before, make suggestions for improvement. Then he hands Akira his clipboard and pen and sits down on a bench to watch.
A couple of the players are still bruised and sore from the matches, so Akira has them all do basic drills and exercises. Tachibana-san watches it all complacently from the bench, and once when they're doing suicide runs Akira glances over and sees An sitting next to her brother. He turns away, his stomach in knots, and when he looks again five minutes later, she's gone.
Tachibana-san doesn't say anything about her after practice.
The atmosphere on the day before the finals is tense. Focused. Practice goes well, and everyone plays with renewed confidence. A match with Shinji is a good distraction, but it doesn't keep Akira from wishing she were there. Tachibana-san watches from the bench again, but An doesn't show up. They stay longer than usual, and afterwards Akira and Shinji head towards the Kamio house to shower and cool off. They're halfway there when Sakurai comes running up to them. They both stop to let him catch his breath, but he hesitates before turning to Akira.
'I…I was at the sushi place yesterday. An was there too – with Momoshiro. She…' Sakurai blushes and kicks the ground with his foot, unaware of the effect his words have on Akira. 'I think I heard her say she – that she wasn't interested in him.' Sakurai stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns to leave. 'I just thought maybe you should know.'
Akira knows he probably has an idiotic look on his face that Shinji will tease him about later. He knows this doesn't mean anything; just because she didn't choose Momoshiro doesn't mean she'll choose him, either. He knows Sakurai may have misheard her completely.
But that doesn't stop his hope from soaring.
The day of the finals Akira stands, back straight, next to his captain and his team and watches Seigaku and Rikkaidai file onto the courts.
Some things are worth risking everything to gain.
Momoshiro stands proudly with his head held high and a grin on his face, and Akira understands. Even if she says no, it will still have been worth every risk.
They're still standing when Tezuka starts to play. Akira wonders if that will be him next year, captain of the team that reached the finals.
He's still wondering that when someone squeezes in between him and Shinji, and he looks down. It's An. She stands next to him, so close their shoulders are rubbing together and he realizes she uses the same shampoo as his sisters. And after a minute he feels her grasp his hand, tuck hers inside it, and he looks down and she's smiling up at him, shy, hopeful. And he squeezes her hand and smiles back, and his heart thump thump thump thumps, and the players squeak across the floor and the breeze breaks gently on the bleachers. And suddenly everything's back in a rhythm again, and this one's the best he's ever heard.