Title: Portrait

Summary: A picture is worth a thousand words.

Author's Notes: As with most Gokusen fics I write, this is set in a middle ground between the manga and the drama. This fic states that by graduation, Shin and Yankumi will have known each other for two years, which is only true in the manga. The Noda-as-photographer probably makes more sense from the point of view of the drama, though, in light of episode 4.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gokusen.

If you were a student at Shirokin Gakuen, and you wanted a picture of something... well, everybody knew that Noda was the person to ask.

Noda's tenth birthday present had been an old camera which took rolls of 35mm film and had to be wound manually from frame to frame. Noda's father had shown him how to load the film on the sprocket in a darkened room, so as not to ruin it while it was unexposed.

The first few rolls he had developed were full of mostly dim, blurry or unidentifiable pictures, but it had fascinated Noda so much that he spent every spare bit of money he had on film and development. He gave the local store so much business that they eventually started giving him a discount.

Over the years, he got better and better results, and when his parents bought him a digital camera for his sixteenth birthday, he found that it liberated him from the constraints of films and negatives – he could take as many photos as he liked in one sitting, and not have to worry about dud shots.

It was because of this that he became notorious at school for always having his camera with him. Any event – in fact, the slightest moment of interest – and his finger would be poised over the button, ready for some rapid-fire photography.

Noda would often take dozens, even hundred of shots in one go and hardly think about what he was doing or photographing – then, later, he'd upload the photos to his computer and give them all a critical once-over. He'd get rid of the rubbish ones, edit the ones that needed it, and gaze proudly at the good ones (and there were a lot of good ones).

One of the best opportunities for photos was school events. Noda found that it was easier to get decent, candid shots when everyone was relaxed and having fun.

That week it had been the school athletic festival, and Noda's camera had been particularly active.

He had gone through most of the action shots (of football games, track and field events and so on) and had moved onto the class photos. And it was as he was looking amongst these that he accidentally discovered his best friend's greatest secret.

Sawada Shin was asleep on the roof. Again.

Well, not fully asleep. It was mainly laziness that made his whole body feel heavy and lethargic. That and the delicious sense of anticipation that came from knowing that any minute now, Yankumi would come storming up here to drag him back down to class. So he lay on the bench, feeling the warm sun on his face and arms, and waiting.

Something soft and light patted his stomach.

He frowned, but didn't open his eyes. He thought he'd probably imagined it, but then a familiar voice said, "I'd keep hold of it, if I were you. Not the kind of thing you'd want other people seeing."

It was Noda.

Shin opened his eyes and squinted up at the tall boy's face, then raised his head awkwardly to peer at whatever was on his stomach. It was a thin, glossy piece of paper – a photo. He reached for it and lifted it so that he could see.

Immediately, the colour drained from his face and he sat up straight. "Where did you get this?"

"I took it." Noda sat down next to him. "I've deleted the file. Didn't think you'd want anyone else to see it, but..." He glanced at the copy in Shin's hand, "I thought you might want it for yourself."

"Thanks." Shin slipped it hurriedly into his jacket pocket. "I, uh –"

"I'm not judging you," Noda said quickly. "I mean, I couldn't, could I? Not after all that stuff with Fujiyama-sensei. And... I guess, maybe I can see why. Yankumi's not that bad after all."

Shin's cheeks were burning. "Look, can you... not say anything to anyone else –"

"Of course I won't – what kind of guy do you think I am?" He glanced at Shin. "So – are you going to tell her?"

Shin's head snapped around quickly. "No. At least... not right now. She'd just laugh at me."

Noda made a non-committal sound. "I don't know about that exactly, but maybe you shouldn't say anything until after graduation. At least then you won't be her student any more, right?"

Shin glanced at Noda. "Thanks. For, you know –"

"No problem," Noda interrupted hurriedly. He'd never been very good with open discussions of emotion, and a casual pat on Shin's shoulder was the only sign that they'd done anything more than shoot the breeze. "See you later, yeah?"

"Uh-huh." Shin waited until Noda was gone before he pulled out the photo again.

He cursed himself for being so careless. He should have been more aware of what he was doing – but as the picture showed, his mind had been fixed solely on one thing.

In the photograph, Yankumi was collecting the class's basketball vests. She held the pile close to her chest, her arms crossed firmly around the bundle of fabric, one vest slipping out of her fingers from the bottom. Kuma's arm reached into the frame, the shot capturing the exact moment that he dropped another vest into Yankumi's arms. The woman herself was looking at something out of the frame, her face knotted in a curious frown. In the picture, on Yankumi's other side, was Shin. He was staring at Yankumi, his face relaxed, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

Not even the most oblivious of people could fail to notice the emotion that was so plain on his face.

For that one, brief, unguarded moment, he had forgotten to hide the fact that he was in love with her.

His fingers tightened around the edges of the photo. Perhaps it was a good thing – a blessing in disguise. Yankumi had always been totally oblivious to the way he felt about her. If he wanted to... at any given moment, he could give her that photo, and he would never have to say a word. (He battled with the happy cowardice of this idea for a few minutes.)

But... perhaps Noda was right. To bring this up before graduation could make things messy. It would be best to wait until he could at least say that they were no longer teacher and student, but merely a man and a woman who had known each other for two years. In that sort of circumstance, he reasoned, it would not be strange for him to tell her, "I love you."

And until then, it would have to remain his own secret.

He slipped the photo back into his pocket, and zipped it shut.