Ikejiri couldn't quite pinpoint the minute he realized he had a crush on the volleyball captain. The volleyball captain's name was Sawamura Daichi, and he was also Ikeijiri's best friend. Ikeijiri lay in his bed at nights, thinking of the way Daichi would instruct their team, tell them to not give up even when Ikeijiri was too tired to move on, would lie on Ikejiri's bed and ponder over the pronunciation of English words while Ikeijiri tried hard to make it not obvious that he was listening to the way Daichi's lips sounded over every word.
Daichi was already at practice when Ikejiri came in the next morning. He was panting, even though he was alone -- no one else in the club had come yet. Ikejiri usually came as late as they did, but he knew Daichi came here first, early in the mornings.
Daichi turned to him when he arrived, a surprised expression on his face. "Ikejiri," he said.
Ikejiri let his bag slip from his shoulders, smiling. There were damp spots of sweat under Daichi's chin, clear down his neck.
"Hi Daichi," said Ikejiri. "Mind if I join you this morning?"
"No, of course not," Daichi said generously.
He had been practicing his receives against the wall, he told Ikejiri as Ikejiri peeled his jacket off. They'd already lost the inter highs and summer was approaching; the walk to school had been humid, beating on the back of Ikejiri's neck.
It was worth it, though, having Daichi in his jersey, shorts high on his thighs, teaching Ikejiri how to bend properly to receive a serve or an attack. Daichi had read up on it last night, he told Ikejiri, about how to become better at it, how receives were one of the most vital components of volleyball. As long as you don't let the ball hit the ground on your side of the net, you still have a chance at winning.
Ikejiri watched the life in Daichi's eyes as he told him this. Sometimes Ikejiri thought he should be jealous -- of a sport, of all things -- but it was what made Daichi such a powerful leader. It was what made him leader in the first place, while Ikejiri was here to follow, enjoy, listen to Daichi's words. Daichi loved the sport, and Ikeijiri, he was in love with Daichi.
The rest of their teammates came eventually, mostly twenty minutes after practice was supposed to start. Daichi scolded them, and, later, told Ikejiri that he was going to talk to Michimiya about her team, if they came to practices this late. Ikejiri smiled and nodded; Daichi and Michimiya were good friends, led their teams in different ways, but still able to sit down next to each other and nudge and talk, when Ikejiri was on the other side of the table. Ikejiri supposed they looked good together, though Daichi had told him in their second year that he didn't like girls, and Michimiya was just a friend to him.
That could've gotten Ikejiri's hopes up; but now, he watched as Daichi's sole focus was volleyball. The sport, the game, the fire behind his eyes as he watched the ball soar in the air, determined to get it during their mock match. He did, and his team -- their team, Ikejiri was on his side -- won. Daichi laughed as some of their teammates tackled him just as the bell rang.
Ikejiri and Daichi got themselves cleaned up together. Daichi said, "Too bad they didn't come here earlier, we could've had a longer game." He smiled at Ikejiri. "At least we got to practice together."
Ikejiri returned the smile -- easy, not as strong as he would've liked. "Yeah," he said, turning away.
*
Three years later, Ikejiri watched the TV as Daichi stepped out onto the court in Tokyo, and knew that this fate was never for him.
FILL: SWAG 2016, no tags
Ikejiri couldn't quite pinpoint the minute he realized he had a crush on the volleyball captain. The volleyball captain's name was Sawamura Daichi, and he was also Ikeijiri's best friend. Ikeijiri lay in his bed at nights, thinking of the way Daichi would instruct their team, tell them to not give up even when Ikeijiri was too tired to move on, would lie on Ikejiri's bed and ponder over the pronunciation of English words while Ikeijiri tried hard to make it not obvious that he was listening to the way Daichi's lips sounded over every word.
Daichi was already at practice when Ikejiri came in the next morning. He was panting, even though he was alone -- no one else in the club had come yet. Ikejiri usually came as late as they did, but he knew Daichi came here first, early in the mornings.
Daichi turned to him when he arrived, a surprised expression on his face. "Ikejiri," he said.
Ikejiri let his bag slip from his shoulders, smiling. There were damp spots of sweat under Daichi's chin, clear down his neck.
"Hi Daichi," said Ikejiri. "Mind if I join you this morning?"
"No, of course not," Daichi said generously.
He had been practicing his receives against the wall, he told Ikejiri as Ikejiri peeled his jacket off. They'd already lost the inter highs and summer was approaching; the walk to school had been humid, beating on the back of Ikejiri's neck.
It was worth it, though, having Daichi in his jersey, shorts high on his thighs, teaching Ikejiri how to bend properly to receive a serve or an attack. Daichi had read up on it last night, he told Ikejiri, about how to become better at it, how receives were one of the most vital components of volleyball. As long as you don't let the ball hit the ground on your side of the net, you still have a chance at winning.
Ikejiri watched the life in Daichi's eyes as he told him this. Sometimes Ikejiri thought he should be jealous -- of a sport, of all things -- but it was what made Daichi such a powerful leader. It was what made him leader in the first place, while Ikejiri was here to follow, enjoy, listen to Daichi's words. Daichi loved the sport, and Ikeijiri, he was in love with Daichi.
The rest of their teammates came eventually, mostly twenty minutes after practice was supposed to start. Daichi scolded them, and, later, told Ikejiri that he was going to talk to Michimiya about her team, if they came to practices this late. Ikejiri smiled and nodded; Daichi and Michimiya were good friends, led their teams in different ways, but still able to sit down next to each other and nudge and talk, when Ikejiri was on the other side of the table. Ikejiri supposed they looked good together, though Daichi had told him in their second year that he didn't like girls, and Michimiya was just a friend to him.
That could've gotten Ikejiri's hopes up; but now, he watched as Daichi's sole focus was volleyball. The sport, the game, the fire behind his eyes as he watched the ball soar in the air, determined to get it during their mock match. He did, and his team -- their team, Ikejiri was on his side -- won. Daichi laughed as some of their teammates tackled him just as the bell rang.
Ikejiri and Daichi got themselves cleaned up together. Daichi said, "Too bad they didn't come here earlier, we could've had a longer game." He smiled at Ikejiri. "At least we got to practice together."
Ikejiri returned the smile -- easy, not as strong as he would've liked. "Yeah," he said, turning away.
*
Three years later, Ikejiri watched the TV as Daichi stepped out onto the court in Tokyo, and knew that this fate was never for him.