Warnings: shonen ai
Pairings: Shinji-Kamio
Author: Arigatomina
Email: arigatoumina (a) hotmail . com
Another Day
Part 3: Shinji, awkward gestures of friendship
Shinji rarely forgot things, especially animated and troublesome things like people. Anyone who caught his attention long enough to make a first impression was forever branded by his take on the encounter. Before things fell apart, his father had joked to everyone they knew that little Shinji was as forgiving as a jackal with an elephant's memory. Shinji had never quite figured out what he meant by that, but he continued to classify people he met. He sometimes modified the brand, if the person changed significantly over consecutive meetings, but he never stopped associating them with that first impression.
Kamio had lately become that reckless, annoying, guy he liked to play tennis with. That was a siginificant shift because less than a year ago he'd been that popular, rude, redhead too self-conscious to lend him a pencil in math. Mori said he was too quick to hold a grudge over simple things, but Mori forgave anything so his opinion didn't count for much. Shinji liked and listened to him because Mori was the little guy who lent him stuff without checking first to make sure no one was looking. He listened when Mori talked, and while he didn't put much weight on the things he said, he did appreciate how the boy didn't change. He was still just an all-around nice guy.
So when Mori approached him as they were picking up balls after practice, Shinji stopped what he was doing and listened. He watched and waited while the black-haired boy explained how bad Kamio felt about what had happened. He did his best not to drift off during Mori's description of how reluctant Kamio was to approach him and possibly make him more resentful than he already was. He even gave a silent nod when Mori hopefully asked if things were okay, then. It wasn't until the boy left his area that Shinji wondered what Kamio, through Mori, had been apologizing for.
Whatever was bothering Kamio must have been bad, because he spent the next week being particularly nice to him. It made Shinji uncomfortable and suspicious. He liked that Kamio was naturally blunt and abrasive - he never had to wonder if he was plotting against him since Kamio was too confrontational to hide things like that. It wasn't like him to go out of his way to talk to him in school, when everyone knew Shinji didn't talk during classes anymore, or inviting him to eat with the guys during lunch, when anyone with eyes knew Shinji did his homework during lunch instead of eating.
The niceness was even worse after school, when it was just the two of them playing tennis. Kamio actually looked guilty when he got a point, which was so weird Shinji had been forced to confront him.
The main reason he liked playing Kamio was because the boy could hold his own. He loved playing someone just as competitive as he was. And Kamio was just as likely to gripe and scowl and play that much better when challenged. Shinji could put up with the inexplicable niceness during school, but he refused to have it taking the fun out of their practice.
Kamio's reaction to Shinji asking why he was being so weird was as baffling as the niceness. Kamio stared and sputtered for a minute, then he blushed and ran away. After some thought, Shinji decided it was worth the weirdness to see how cute Kamio was when he blushed. It was amusing enough that he stopped wondering what had caused the sudden change in behavior. That was good because almost two weeks passed before he found out, and he could easily have driven himself - and everyone within muttering distance - crazy thinking about it.
After the blow up with the regular team, Kamio took it upon himself to help Shinji home. He'd been very suspicious at first. That niceness had cooled to a tolerable level and Shinji hadn't wanted a relapse. Kamio explained that he was just returning the favor. And he'd laughed and said not to worry about his parents embarrassing him, because nothing they did could be as horrible as what his own mom had done, and that he really was sorry about that, but he was glad Shinji hadn't held a grudge.
Shinji was so surprised that he stopped walking. He immediately connected the strange behavior and second-hand apology to his brief encounter with Kamio's mother. That was the sort of thing he didn't like to think about, so he hadn't. He felt uncomfortable around parents, mothers in particular since they were typically more tactile and enthusiastic. He still blushed when his mother doted on him, even over the phone, and she knew he wasn't as simple and naive as other people assumed he was.
His father said it was good to be jaded and Shinji was inclined to agree with him. His father was jaded. He never talked down to him or praised him for things that came so naturally Shinji took them to be a matter of course. He was blunt and sober and honest and Shinji wished all parents could be that way. He'd been the one to explain why they'd had to move again, and that, yes, it was partly Shinji's fault for being such a burden on his emotionally unstable mother. He'd sat him down and talked to him as if he wasn't nine, talking to his intellect without being fooled by his appearance. He'd explained that between him and his sister, Shinji had the best chance of starting over in Japan.
They'd both agreed that it would be Japan, because Shinji had been wanting to go back since his first children's tournament, when he'd learned that Japanese schools were far more likely to have tennis clubs for the students. And he'd be able to forgo the counseling sessions he hated so much, since without his mother constantly reinforcing his mumbling habit, he'd be able to find his own method of self medicating. It was difficult to bury himself in thought when a mothering woman was cooing over him and praising him as if fixing his own hair was such a major accomplishment it required hours of discussion. He affected her, and she affected him, and so the best solution was to separate them.
She still called often, and visited him as much as possible. And Shinji had learned that it wasn't just her. Something about him brought out a smothering affectionate side in mothers, and some fathers as well. He was wary of being around adults, parents especially, because he still had trouble controlling his habit. He'd been sent to his uncle specifically because he wasn't married, and he wasn't the sort to encourage a habit normal non-parenting people found annoying as hell. Shinji had never figured out what some parents found so cute about his mumbling. Half the time he wasn't even aware he was doing it, but when he caught himself, he stopped. He didn't need drugs or counseling because without a catalyst he could control it himself. Parents like Kamio's mother took that control from him and made him painfully aware of the absence.
He took pains to avoid them, just like he'd stopped paying attention in class to avoid having talks with the more patronizing teachers after school. So, yes, he was resentful that Kamio had drug him inside his home. He hadn't explained why he didn't want to go in, but he thought he'd made it clear how uncomfortable he was with the very idea. Still, he didn't blame Kamio for the way his mother had reacted. She was caring and friendly, just like his own mother was. And so his discomfort had erupted into panic and he'd mumbled, and she'd fawned over him, and he'd wanted nothing more than to be away. He didn't mind letting his guard down when he was around people who wouldn't make a fuss, but he hated having his control taken away. It made him feel as if he hadn't accomplished anything in the last few years, which was one more reason he buried himself in tennis so much.
On the court he could control almost everything, and even if he mumbled, it didn't affect his game. It didn't hurt that his skill at tennis was the one thing he and his father agreed not to take for granted. Academics were too easy when he had to make an effort to forget things, so his father knew his grades dropped because Shinji chose to let them. His lack of motivation in school - when he barely had to try to get perfect scores - was one of the few sore spots between them. Shinji refused to explain himself, and his father refused to believe there wasn't some immature reason behind the decision. After a few tense phone calls, Shinji stopped sending his grades, and his father stopped asking about them. Joining the tennis club had made up for that because, for a while there, they hadn't had anything to talk about. He looked forward to telling him the news about the ousted regulars. They were turning in the request to form a new club tomorrow. If all went well, they'd be ready to play other schools by the start of next year.
Shinji was drawn out of his thoughts by a hand prodding his sore shoulder. He blinked dazedly for a moment before focusing on the hand and following it to Kamio's frustrated and worried face.
"Are you sure you didn't hit your head during that fight?" asked Kamio. "You've been staring at the sidewalk for five minutes. You weren't even mumbling..."
"My jaw's sore," Shinji said slowly, rubbing the spot with a vague frown. "Someone hit me there, but I think it might have been Uchimura. He's so short I kept losing sight of him, and it doesn't hurt enough for it to have been anyone really strong. My shoulder hurts more than anything. I'm glad I'm right handed."
"Yeah," Kamio smirked, "Uchimura was great. He looks so sweet and shy hiding under his cap that those guys never saw it coming. I think he's the only one who didn't get hurt once we started fighting back."
"Because he's so short," said Shinji. "They were watching out for Ishida and Tachibana-san. They didn't expect all of us to jump in. You shouldn't have hit so hard, though. You scraped your knuckles."
Kamio waved that off with a smug grin. "It was definitely worth it. I swear, as soon as Tachibana-san jumped the coach there was no way I could hold back. I've been wanting to pound on those guys all year. If my hand's a little sore, that'll just remind me how good it felt."
The redhead was practically glowing, and he was walking backwards again. He'd been doing that since they left school, dancing around Shinji as if he couldn't or wouldn't get off the adrenaline rush. Shinji had found that energy dizzying at first. Now it was sort of cute. Kamio looked as giddy as he had when he'd gotten his portable cd player and announced to anyone who'd listen that he was going to challenge the track club to a race, just to test out his rhythm with music pounding in his ears. The boy had ridden that rush for weeks. Shinji suspected he'd do the same with this, for however long it took his bruised knuckles to heal.
"You surprised me, though," Kamio announced, with an overly serious nod and bright smiling eyes. "When you hit that guy, Tachibana-san looked as shocked as he did. With moves like that, you could join the kendo club. I know you said you knew how to fight, but I didn't think you meant an actual school."
"I used to switch clubs a lot," said Shinji. "It wasn't much good with so many people fighting in close quarters. I'm better with more space."
"Less chance of getting clipped by friendly punches, too," Kamio smirked.
Shinji scowled a little and rubbed at his jaw again. "I bet it was Uchimura. He was looking at me funny when we left. If he realized he'd done it, he should have apologized."
"More likely he was staring because you fought at all," said Kamio. "You really don't seem the aggressive type, you know."
"Neither does Mori," Shinji frowned.
"Yeah, but you're a lot more passive than he is."
Shinji scowled darker at the way Kamio said it as if it were common knowledge. It was like they all thought he enjoyed being taunted, just because he didn't bother to rise to the bait. There wasn't a point if he couldn't fight back. He'd jumped in just as quickly as the rest of them once Tachibana threw that first retaliatory punch. He wasn't any more passive than they were.
"I know," said Kamio. "You just don't come off that way, is all."
Shinji blinked. He was thrown for a moment before he realized Kamio was responding to his own mumbled comments, rather than his thoughts. It was rare that one of the guys responded directly to him, so it always caught him off guard. Kamio must have been distracted. Shinji was fairly sure the others made it a point to ignore his mumbling, so Kamio wouldn't have responded intentionally.
"What are you looking for?" asked Shinji.
"Your house," Kamio said, rolling his eyes. "Didn't you say it was on this block? That's why you stopped, right?"
"It's an apartment. Above the bookstore."
He didn't want to admit that. He'd been happy that none of the guys were curious enough to ask where he lived because he wasn't particularly happy with the shop downstairs. Some of the books were okay, but most of them were a waste of paper. Not to mention the gaggling teenagers who seemed to come from all over the place, like they had nothing better to do than to hang out all night browsing the manga sections. They were loud and annoying, and he hated going home early because they squeeled at him. Why was it girls came by more often than guys, anyway? Didn't they have after school jobs or something? The clientelle had gotten so skewed his uncle was stocking shoujo manga and forsaking the more interesting novels and imports. That wasn't any more fair than his having to sneak in the back way to avoid the loiters.
Kamio was giving him sneaking looks, one hand held over his mouth in a vain attempt to choke back a laugh. Shinji scowled at him and pulled his bag over his shoulder so he could dig in it. He didn't say a word as he pulled out a black hat and pulled it low over his face. If anything, Kamio's choked laughs got louder.
"Shut up," Shinji muttered sullenly. "I haven't come home this early all year. It's not even dark yet."
Kamio gave up any pretense of not laughing, but he did muffle it in his hand. Shinji's eyebrow twitched beneath the bill of his black cap.
"You don't seriously hide from a bunch of girls, do you?" Kamio grinned. "If Sakurai gets wind of this, you'll never hear the end of it."
"Shut up or go home," Shinji glowered. "If they hear you and come out here, I'm telling them where you live. See how well you like having strange girls stake out your house."
"Sounds fun to me," said Kamio. "What guy wouldn't want to be stalked by a bunch of cute girls?"
Shinji smirked suddenly. "Cute? Who said they were cute?"
"Oh..."
Kamio blinked and sent a suddenly wary look at the postered windows of the bookstore. He eased a little closer to Shinji and dropped his voice. "So. Where's this back entrance?"
Shinji snorted and showed him the way. Voices trailed back to them when they stepped in the back door. The room served as storage, replacements and new shipments stacked neatly along the far wall, a staircase directly across from that, and an open doorway giving a glimpse into the bookstore. The only thing visible through the opening was the space behind a wide glass counter, and a middle aged man sitting on a stool with a magazine opened in front of him. Despite the noise, he looked over when they entered.
He didn't look anything like Shinji since he was his father's brother. He had graying brown hair, dark eyes, and a notable belly hanging over his belt. His brows quirked and he got up to stand in the doorway where he could see them better.
"Who's this?" he asked, sending an appraising look over Kamio.
Shinji shrugged. "He goes to school with me."
The man raised an eyebrow and muttered, "That's a first. Early, too." Then he went back to his stool. Kamio blinked.
"Come on," Shinji said quietly, tugging the redhead's sleeve. "That's my uncle. He's working. You’re already inside. Might as well come up.”
Everything was dark upstairs. Shinji left it that way. He kept a hold on Kamio’s coat sleeve and bypassed the light switches. There was a good chance his uncle’s girlfriend was napping on the couch. She worked odd shifts and he knew by experience that waking her, if she’d just dozed off, was unpleasant at best. Besides that, she’d probably make a fuss over his bringing a friend home with him, and he didn’t really want to listen to that.
He closed them in his room before turning on the overhead light. Kamio squinted, and Shinji shrugged in response to his questioning look.
“Nara-san, my uncle’s girlfriend, crashes here sometimes. If she gets off in the afternoon, she naps on the couch till he closes the shop.”
“Oh,” said Kamio. “So it’s just you and your uncle?”
“Most of the time. He’s been dating Nara-san off and on for a few years, but it didn’t get serious till recently. You can sit down.”
Kamio had been staring at his walls as if he’d never seen diagrams and sketches before. Shinji frowned and moved to stare at the sheet that was apparently more interesting to Kamio than what he’d been saying. It was just a normal white sheet of paper with pencil lines, arrows, and a few notes to differentiate the speed and types of the lines. After a moment, Shinji sniffed and sat on the edge of the bed.
“It’s just a scribble,” Shinji muttered, a little resentful at the weird look Kamio shot him.
“A scribble of what?” asked Kamio. He looked from the sheet tacked on the wall above the desk, over to Shinji. “It almost looks like a tennis game…”
Shinji grumbled and looked away. Of course Kamio would find it weird. It was the first tennis game he’d played, right after switching out of the local chess club. He hadn’t known anything about the game besides the rules, and he’d only been seven. How was he supposed to know he couldn’t plot a perfect game just by studying the possible moves? It wasn’t like he’d ever lost another match as badly as he had that first one. He’d spent a week on that stupid sketch, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. It was funny to think about and he liked that. There wasn’t anything wrong with putting it on the wall where he could see it. He didn’t care if Kamio thought it was weird. It was his room and his wall, and if Kamio didn’t like that he could-
“Wow,” Kamio said suddenly, diverting Shinji’s attention away from his quietly muttered rant. “I’d kill for a system like this. I didn’t know you liked music this much.”
Shinji got up and moved to stand over Kamio. The redhead was crouched in front of his cd rack, one pale hand ghosting over his stereo in an almost worshipping way. Shinji smirked. He’d thought Kamio would like that.
“My dad brought the stereo when I joined the tennis club. I listen to almost anything, so my sister sends me whatever cds catch her eye. Some of it’s really funny if you understand the lyrics. There’s this one from the states about dogs that actually has people barking to the music, except it’s not really about dogs – it’s funny. It’s in English, though.”
Kamio sent him a funny look. “Your family lives in the states?”
“Usually,” said Shinji. “They were in Kyoto last month, but usually my sister stays in the states. She was born there, so she doesn’t like to travel that much. You’d like her, I think. She’s always dancing around with her headphones up full bast. Probably be deaf by the time she’s our age, though…”
Kamio was still giving him that funny look, like he wanted to say something that he knew would make him angry. Shinji frowned and folded his arms over his chest. “What? Say it or stop looking at me like that.”
“Why do you live here?” Kamio blurted.
Shinji blinked and stared down at him. He hadn’t thought how his living arrangement might appear to his teammates. Was it strange for him to have picked Japan? He’d never liked Germany, and his only relative there had four kids and a husband, none of whom spoke Japanese. There were some really good schools there, but he’d never visited long enough to learn the language. He’d been born here and he remembered it better than any other country they’d visited. So wasn’t it normal to want to come back? Plus, he’d decided to stick with tennis, and Japanese schools had some really prominent tennis teams. He might have felt lost at first, but he was doing okay now.
“Do you mean here,” Shinji said at last, “or here with my uncle? My dad offered to send me to a private school, but I get more freedom here. My uncle doesn’t talk much, but he’s okay. We don’t bother each other.”
Kamio continued to watch him, his eyes moving over Shinji’s face as if he were looking for something. It was almost disturbing. Shinji turned away and went to unpack his school books. He hadn’t gotten much of his homework done during lunch and since he was actually home early he supposed he could go ahead and complete it this time. He refused to leave more than three questions blank on tests, so handing in incomplete homework was the easiest way to keep his grades down.
“Shinji?”
He glanced back over his shoulder and was faintly surprised to find Kamio still looking at him. Some of the music his sister sent him bordered on bizarre, but he’d been sure there were others that would catch Kamio’s eye. Did he not want to borrow things from him in particular, or was he too distracted to think about cds right now?
“I have problems with parents,” Shinji said, as if in response to a question. Kamio looked confused, which told him that wasn’t the issue the boy was distracted by. Shinji continued anyway.
“You didn’t have to send Mori to apologize to me,” he explained. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your mom. It’s really your own fault, though. I knew something like that would happen. That’s why I didn’t want to go in. But it’s not something you have to apologize for. So you don’t need to act weird or nice to make up for it. Just forget it.”
Kamio still had that expression like he wanted to say something. Instead, he nodded silently and stopped staring at him. Shinji was glad because he didn’t like it when he couldn’t tell what Kamio was thinking. He was used to the redhead being blunt and to the point. Seeing him hold back something he wanted to say was a stark change from normal, and Shinji didn’t like sudden changes.
“Are these any good?” asked Kamio, turning back to him with two cds.
“That’s a funny one,” Shinji said, with a nod to the British cd. “Their accents make it hard to understand, but the way they sound is funny. You’d probably like the other one, too. It’s J-pop, but it’s a new band. If they keep it up, they’ll probably be big by next year.”
“Easy on the eyes, too,” Kamio nodded.
Shinji rolled his eyes and went over to pull a few more cds off the rack. “I should have figured you’d go straight for the girl-bands. You really do have a thing for redheads…”
Kamio grinned at his disgruntled expression. “Not every rumor Sakurai starts is made up. Redheads are more wild and fun. I should know, being one myself. What about you?”
Shinji shrugged. “You’re the only redhead I know. If the girls are as noisy as you, I’ll stick with brunettes.”
“Sure. You’re just afraid of girls in general, what with that bunch downstairs staking out your front door. I’m so telling the guys you sneak down an alley to avoid getting ambushed by a bunch of fangirls on your way home.”
Shinji leveled a calm stare at Kamio and made like he was about to return the new cd to its place on the rack. “I’ll just keep these to myself, then.”
“I was just kidding,” Kamio protested. “Your dirty secret’s safe with me.”
“It should be,” Shinji muttered, handing the cd back. “You went down the alley the same as I did.”
“Forgot about that…”
.-.
TBC
Next part, the new team, Tachibana reflects on how much Shinji and Kamio have grown as players and teens.
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