this focuses more on first and second year sorry about that ;w;'>
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First Year They’d worked together for most of the term. Spent as much time as they could with each other, gauged each other’s strengths, memorised little habits like an obsession. Everything was perfect, in theory, but it was just that.
In theory.
Teshima was good at strategizing, he was smart enough to formulate plans that worked in theory, and the application would have been fine if they were stronger. Attaining synchronicity before the end of the year was a pipe dream anyway, a shot in the dark that could have bore fruit, but didn’t. And it’s that probability of failure that doesn’t make it taste as disappointing as they thought. They were only first years, after all. And after the disaster that was this year’s Inter High, it paid to err on the side of caution. They had time to figure it out. And being the only first years, it wasn’t as if they had anyone nipping at their heels. Considering how small their club was, it wasn’t like they had to fight that many people to make it.
(But, Aoyagi had said, next year we’ll be in trouble. Who knows what kinds of people would join.
We’ll make it Teshima had replied, grin wide and confident.) They’d need to get better. But they’d always known that.
It’s hard sometimes, getting out of bed at 6am even on weekends, riding on rollers in the winter and well over the new years and Christmas breaks. But they support each other where they can, goad the other into practising twice as hard and twice as long; putting in twice as much effort as they would normally.
After all, they’d need to work twice as hard to make it work.
Second Year It was quiet, hours following the (their) failure. They’d mindlessly dragged themselves to their shared room in silence, knowing full well the first years were still cycling. It was unlikely they knew what happened after all; their backs vanishing into the distance even as the two of them hit gravel. The third years were probably still at it too, despite how disappointed Tadokoro most likely was. But that meant they could take advantage of the baths, Teshima supposed, voice too quiet for Aoyagi to actually hear. (The other in response as if he had though, and Teshima wonders if he’d heard the waver in his voice.)
Their movements were slow, legs seizing if they lifted them too high or sat down, washing the sweat and dirt from their bodies methodically, stiffly, faces carefully blank and decidedly not looking at each other. The heat of the bath was a welcome reprieve despite the unusual silence, warmth soothing the muscles of their legs. But they couldn’t afford to linger too long here, ice was better than heat for this type of injury, and the sooner they could get compression bandages on the better. Leaving the bath was harder than getting into it, Aoyagi almost slipping over and grimacing as his muscles sparked with ache.
Thankfully, the medical bay wasn’t that far from the baths, and even though neither could really kneel down to wrap bandages around each other, they made it work somehow, tugging them tight and secure and just in time for the first years to find them.
Teshima pulls up the dregs of his earlier bravado, talking all too casually, calmly, as if the disappointment wasn’t crushing them both. The first years leave afterwards, and after a beat of silence they stand on still shaky legs, slowly, slowly making their way back to their room. Neither of them can find sleep however. And eventually Teshima sighs and moves over onto his side.
“Next year,” He promises wearily, finally breaking the silence. “We’ll make it next year.”
Aoyagi’s arms tighten around him in affirmation, cradles Teshima’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together.
“We’ll make it. I believe in you, too.”
Third Year They stand right at front; before the crowd with cheers rising around them in expectation, with the stares of dozens of other schools at their backs. On the single digit zekken. Aoyagi glances over as Teshima clips on his helmet, eyes sharp but anticipation bubbling beneath the surface.
“We’re not out of the woods yet, Aoyagi.” Teshima says above the swell of noise around them, perhaps feeling Aoyagi’s stare. “But we’ve made it this far. We might just finish what we’ve started.”
There’s little time to reply, the final announcement ringing loud over the masses who only cheered louder in response.
FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, G
Words: 763
this focuses more on first and second year sorry about that ;w;'>
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First Year
They’d worked together for most of the term. Spent as much time as they could with each other, gauged each other’s strengths, memorised little habits like an obsession. Everything was perfect, in theory, but it was just that.
In theory.
Teshima was good at strategizing, he was smart enough to formulate plans that worked in theory, and the application would have been fine if they were stronger. Attaining synchronicity before the end of the year was a pipe dream anyway, a shot in the dark that could have bore fruit, but didn’t. And it’s that probability of failure that doesn’t make it taste as disappointing as they thought. They were only first years, after all. And after the disaster that was this year’s Inter High, it paid to err on the side of caution. They had time to figure it out. And being the only first years, it wasn’t as if they had anyone nipping at their heels. Considering how small their club was, it wasn’t like they had to fight that many people to make it.
(But, Aoyagi had said, next year we’ll be in trouble. Who knows what kinds of people would join.
We’ll make it Teshima had replied, grin wide and confident.)
They’d need to get better. But they’d always known that.
It’s hard sometimes, getting out of bed at 6am even on weekends, riding on rollers in the winter and well over the new years and Christmas breaks. But they support each other where they can, goad the other into practising twice as hard and twice as long; putting in twice as much effort as they would normally.
After all, they’d need to work twice as hard to make it work.
Second Year
It was quiet, hours following the (their) failure. They’d mindlessly dragged themselves to their shared room in silence, knowing full well the first years were still cycling. It was unlikely they knew what happened after all; their backs vanishing into the distance even as the two of them hit gravel. The third years were probably still at it too, despite how disappointed Tadokoro most likely was. But that meant they could take advantage of the baths, Teshima supposed, voice too quiet for Aoyagi to actually hear. (The other in response as if he had though, and Teshima wonders if he’d heard the waver in his voice.)
Their movements were slow, legs seizing if they lifted them too high or sat down, washing the sweat and dirt from their bodies methodically, stiffly, faces carefully blank and decidedly not looking at each other. The heat of the bath was a welcome reprieve despite the unusual silence, warmth soothing the muscles of their legs. But they couldn’t afford to linger too long here, ice was better than heat for this type of injury, and the sooner they could get compression bandages on the better. Leaving the bath was harder than getting into it, Aoyagi almost slipping over and grimacing as his muscles sparked with ache.
Thankfully, the medical bay wasn’t that far from the baths, and even though neither could really kneel down to wrap bandages around each other, they made it work somehow, tugging them tight and secure and just in time for the first years to find them.
Teshima pulls up the dregs of his earlier bravado, talking all too casually, calmly, as if the disappointment wasn’t crushing them both. The first years leave afterwards, and after a beat of silence they stand on still shaky legs, slowly, slowly making their way back to their room.
Neither of them can find sleep however. And eventually Teshima sighs and moves over onto his side.
“Next year,” He promises wearily, finally breaking the silence. “We’ll make it next year.”
Aoyagi’s arms tighten around him in affirmation, cradles Teshima’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together.
“We’ll make it. I believe in you, too.”
Third Year
They stand right at front; before the crowd with cheers rising around them in expectation, with the stares of dozens of other schools at their backs. On the single digit zekken. Aoyagi glances over as Teshima clips on his helmet, eyes sharp but anticipation bubbling beneath the surface.
“We’re not out of the woods yet, Aoyagi.” Teshima says above the swell of noise around them, perhaps feeling Aoyagi’s stare. “But we’ve made it this far. We might just finish what we’ve started.”
There’s little time to reply, the final announcement ringing loud over the masses who only cheered louder in response.
“Let’s go, Aoyagi. Together, right?”
The starting gun fires.