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tennis_hell2018-03-31 10:47 pm
xyzai) wrote in tennis_hell2018-03-31 10:47 pm
RP Log
Who: Zaizen Hikaru and Kirihara Akaya
Where: Kirihara's apartment
When: Shortly after Akaya comes back to Japan
What: Souvenirs and brocuddles
Rating: A for Adorable
Figuring that enough time had passed for Akaya to have arrived in his nice cozy home, perfected his impression of a potato, and stuffed his face with ramen, Zaizen plucked up his phone to greet his friend from the heart:
Are you alive? And also, what did you bring me?
Sprawled over his couch with his phone on his chest and not really paying attention to whatever was on TV was Akaya, who was at the tail end of recovery mode. The nearly month-long trip had been great and all, but a significant part of him was very pleased to be back in his own home (even if he did have a door covered in more decorations than he could count.)
His phone buzzing made him start slightly. Picking it up, he squinted blearily at the screen until he could actually make out Zaizen’s message. Akaya chuckled, holding the phone high above his head as he tapped out a reply.
Making it back to full operational standards, yeah. As for that, you’ll have to come and see.
Zaizen had returned to strumming his guitar and didn’t stop when the phone flashed. Only when his fingers had climbed to the song did he reach for it. For such a fast response, Akaya must be nearly done with his (completely earned) useless kakuna time.
You have standards? This is news to me, he wrote back, and eyed the clock. Nearing the end of my practice room reserve. OK to come by?
He specifically asked because, if it were him recovering from a month long trip, he very much doubted he would want to see a human for an additional month.
I didn’t say they were high standards, Akaya typed, playing along. But yeah, come over if ya want. We can go for udon?
Hitting send, Akaya almost immediately regretted the suggestion. He was happy to be home and content to just be on his couch, reworking the cushions back into suitable lumpiness for his body. Rather than send a follow-up, though, he just figured waiting until Zaizen got to his place would yield the same result. It wasn’t as if Zaizen was usually keen to be out.
As he put away his instrument, Zaizen read the text and made a face.
Rest assured I have no great expectations, he slung the guitar over his back and went to formally submit his protest…
But then he felt bad. Slightly. Maybe Kirihara really wanted to go out for udon. Or...
Counter-proposal. I bring us udon and you don’t subject me to public exposure until later. If at all.
Blinking at the response, Akaya smiled as he started to write back. Figured as much.
Yeah that’s good too. I actually don’t really wanna go out and figured you wouldn’t either after I sent that, he admitted. Get me kitsune. I’ll shout you as thanks for delivery!
Sighing and dropping his phone into the crook of his neck, Akaya resolved to not move until Zaizen arrived with dinner. It was still a little early. Honestly, most of his recovery claims had been brave talk - he’d still had gym that morning, and he was still tired, so a quiet night in was definitely best. Without the company he might have gone a little stir-crazy, though.
Akaya knew his avoidance tactics well. And although he might have liked to treat as a celebration of Akaya’s victory, he couldn’t really afford it after getting his brow pierced.
Jewelry > Food: his priorities were in perfect order.
Anything else while I’m out? he typed as he ducked into a convenience store for other essentials while he waited for their udon.
Shoving at his phone with his chin to dislodge it after it vibrated in alert against his collarbone, Akaya’s phone toppled to the floor with a muted THUNK. He reached down lazily to grab it, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise at Zaizen’s offer.
Beer, he replied. His fridge still had a few cans but if Zaizen was already out it wouldn’t hurt to pick up more. and maybe like- he deleted the second half, remembering he had a whole bag of snack foods to shove at Zaizen anyway. Just beer.
Of course, the Kirihara special. Zaizen rolled his eyes and picked the tennis player’s unfortunate favorite. In the name of health he added some pre-made edamame to that order.
Bag number one of stuff secured, he picked up their udon for bag number two. The food/booze burden combined with his guitar made for one interesting trip. This time he used the buzzer not to irritate Akaya, but because he didn’t have the available hands to text. “I’m dying, open your sketchy gate.”
Letting out a groan as his buzzer rang, Akaya peeled himself off the couch long enough to give Zaizen a mumbled “yeah, yeah” in reply and slap the button for his gate, unlatching the door before draping himself somewhat dramatically back over the couch.
Despite his attempt to put on an extra-exhausted facade, Akaya couldn’t help but smile a little as the luggage-laden form of his friend come through the door.
“Evening, pack mule,” he greeted, getting up once more to relieve Zaizen of the food at least.
Standing there among his bags and packages, Zaizen grumbled at Kirihara, “Why do I do things?”
It probably wasn’t the nicest way to greet his friend after not seeing him an entire month. However, from his perspective, the udon and beer rather made up for it. Once Akaya took the food, Zaizen was able to put down his guitar, kick off his boots, and give his shoulders a few much needed rolls.
“Because somewhere in your little hollow heart, you missed me,” Akaya chimed, depositing the food on his kitchen counter. Leaning against it, he grinned at Zaizen, crossing his arms and tilting his head to one side. “Thanks for helping look after the place while I was gone.”
The apartment had been in impeccable order when Akaya had returned, so he knew that the full combination of people he’d left the housesitting to had done a good job. There was no mistaking Zaizen’s particular orderly tendencies, though.
“We talked basically every day,” Zaizen pointed out. But he did not refute Akaya’s claim that Zaizen had missed him, instead, he took off his jacket and moved into the kitchen to steal some water from the sink, as if this were his own home.
The thanks had him turning around and raising a newly pierced brow at Akaya. They were words that felt odd and foreign. His face formed into a sort-of grimace and he said, “I ate all of your food.”
Although he did leave Akaya with newly roasted pumpkin and a fresh six pack. He swallowed any minor embarrassment with his glass of water.
Shrugging, completely unbothered by Zaizen’s casual treatment of his kitchen, Akaya spun around to unpack the udon and drinks. He raised an eyebrow at the edamame, but smiled to himself and got a bowl to upend the beans into. “Yeah, but it’s not the same. And I know you ate all my food,” he said lightly. “I said you could, remember?”
He delicately peeled the lid off of his noodles. The steam filled the air, bringing with it the smell of broth. “I missed Japanese food so much,” he sighed, working a beer free from the pack and loosening a second one for Zaizen to grab before heading back to the couch.
Why was Akaya determined to make him suffer like this? It was tempting to flick water at him. But he tamely sipped at the glass and glared mildly at Akaya while he worked.
“I hope you didn’t try to find any in America,” Zaizen said, taking the free beer and following Akaya with his own chikara udon in hand. “I mean, California might not be the worst but, Florida?”
At least there were a lot of Japanese in California, from what he heard.
“I had some sushi in California. It was alright,” Akaya admitted, ignoring the aburaage in his udon in favour of noodles for now. “But I wasn’t gonna risk America ruining noodles for me.”
Trapping the takeout bowl between his raised knees and his chest, Akaya attempted some ambidextrous hand acrobatics trying to use his chopsticks with his right hand and work the PS4 controller with his left. The screen flickered awkwardly as he scrolled through the menu, settling on whatever came up on the Twitch front page. It was just background noise, anyway.
“So, like, anything major you didn’t end up mentioning?” He questioned, chasing a slippery piece of narutomaki in his bowl.
Zaizen put his soup and beer down on the table to settle comfortably on the couch. Only when he reached optimal comfort did he reach for the noodles to give them a friendly stir with his chopsticks. He nudged the mochi toward the bottom, fully intent to save the best for last.
“Probably a good choice,” he definitely wouldn’t trust any other country with his favorite red bean soup either. After a few minutes of casually watching twitch and poking slowly around his bowl, Zaizen volunteered a nugget of information with a shrug that suggested it really wasn’t much at all, “I had a few paid gigs. The ballet.”
Which was how he had the money to get his piercing at all.
Despite trying to savour the udon, the bowl was pretty much polished off in less than five minutes. Also having saved the best for last, Akaya bites through the aburaage only to drop the other half back in his bowl when Zaizen mentioned the ballet. He tried to stifle a laugh with the tofu and took a second to recover.
“I-I know what you mean, but- haha. I just. Imagined you dancing,” he manages to say, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Lessons with Shiraishi-san. Haha. What did you actually end up playing?”
Zaizen paused mid noodle-to-mouth to execute a look of disdain commensurate with Akaya’s extremely unnecessary visualization. “You realize that you’re the actual worst.”
He really didn’t need to imagine himself in a tutu. Or twerking with Shiraishi. Zaizen wondered what he had done in a past life to deserve these images.
Glare milded to minor annoyance grade, he blew on his noodle and ate it slowly. “Violin. Percussion, triangle.”
To distract Akaya from the whole topic, he plopped some of his noodles in the tennis player’s bowl. Since he couldn’t finish the whole thing and udon wasn’t really good leftover, it might as well not go to waste.
Still fighting his grin, Akaya made a noise of interest at the examples Zaizen listed. At the mention of the triangle, his arm moved almost instinctively to perform an air-chime with his chopsticks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you play violin much,” Akaya muses, only for the thought to be interrupted by the arrival of extra noodles.
Murmuring a surprised “thanks”, he ate the additional udon without waiting, chewing thoughtfully. “The ballet seems like it would pay well, though, so that’s good for a fill-in kinda thing, huh? Are you saving up?” Spearing the last of the aburaage and finishing it with relish, Akaya deposited the empty takeout bowl on the table with a quick gochisousama, much happier after a good meal.
“I don’t really like violin,” Zaizen admitted. “But there are more violins in the piece. Easier to use a student sub for violin 5 instead of cello 2.” Although he could certainly play for the latter, they were more likely to find an actual pro with fewer instrument representation.
That smug grin had Zaizen nudging Kirihara’s calf with his foot in lieu of continued glaring. “Mm,” he commented vaguely, nibbling at the egg he had added just because the tennis player had said that he would pay. “I spoiled myself a little already and ate an entire vegetable while you were gone,” he drawled, half-sarcasm. Since he had accomplished his piercing, he said, “Saving up for loan payments.”
If finishing dinner were a race, Zaizen definitely had another two or three laps before gochisousama.
Akaya opted to sip at his beer now that food was over and done with for him. Snickering at Zaizen’s mildly annoyed kick at his leg, he sat back and watched the TV with no real focus. He didn’t even recognise the game being played. “So it’s like a supply-and-demand kinda deal, huh,” he said, not really sure if that was the right turn of phrase. “Well, if you’re fine with it, I guess it doesn’t matter too much.”
Glancing at his friend from the corner of his eye, Akaya turned to properly face him with a slightly offended look on his face. “Oi, you got egg? I should have gotten egg,” he whined. “I mean, I’m not mad that you’re taking advantage of my generosity,” the last word hangs with false self-importance for a moment - “if you’ve got loans. Hell, you’re eating actual protein.”
That reminded Akaya that he should get up and grab Zaizen’s gifts as well as pay him back, but he figured waiting until the other boy had finished eating might be best.
“Sort of,” Zaizen frowned, considering an analogy that Akaya would understand. “If it’s football and you need three defenders, you would need three or more backup defenders. You might reach a little more in quality for a less experienced player. But there’s only one goalie on the field, less necessity to stretch for backup.”
Not that Zaizen wasn’t a good musician. He just lacked the sterling professional resume that many of the first and section chairs had.
For the most simple answer to Akaya’s complaint, Zaizen put the egg down and neatly split it with his chopsticks. “You could have added one to your order, Generous-Big-Shot-san,” he drawled, holding said half-egg up in peace offering.
“Okay, I get that,” Akaya said, somewhat dubiously. “So it’s a numbers thing. Lineup. Sure.” More likely that someone in one section would need covering if there were just more of them in the first place. He nodded once as if to justify his reasoning to himself.
Having already relegated his eating implements to the table trash pile, Akaya stared down the offered egg for a moment (in mild shock as well as doubt) before shrugging and eating it right off of Zaizen’s chopsticks instead. A better man might have turned it down, but hey. He wanted egg.
Zaizen nodded, rather unperturbed by Akaya eating directly from his chopsticks; growing up with his nephew, he experienced much grosser things than minor cootie exchange. “Still not steady, though.” He would have to find a real part time job.
In pursuit of the actual protein that Akaya mentioned, he polished off the second half of his egg before prodding thoughtfully at the mochi, as if to decide whether or not he was Ready. “My real question is, though, between you and Yukimura-san, are there any actual ears left at Disney World?”
Satisfied with the half-egg, Akaya “hmm”ed in agreement and downed the remainder of his beer. “You could try selling some compositions online if you really needed money,” he suggested. “Y’know, for like, people needing background music for videos or indie games or something.” Even though that still wasn’t a consistent job, it would make a bit of side bank.
At the mention of he and his captain scoping out Disney, a sheepish grin etched itself onto Akaya’s face. “Well… we were there a while. But they’re, like, prepared for big purchases. I bought a few other things there too.” A shrug, and then in a singsong voice; “If you eat your mochi I’ll go and get your pre~sents…”
Zaizen stretched the mochi with his chopsticks, considering if could become two pieces for double the mochi enjoyment. Still pursuing this end, he answered Akaya’s suggestion at a mutter, “If I really need to, maybe. Composing energy is more valuable toward my schoolwork.”
He would simply have to Get a Job.
Having succeeded in mochi diffusion, Zaizen raised one piece aside the dregs of the remaining soup to stare at Akaya’s admission that they had, basically, bought enough ears for a small tennis army. “Or you could stop acting like an elementary school teacher and get them now,” Zaizen suggested. “If you’re truly invested, maybe I’ll have even finished the mochi by the time you get back.”
Akaya sighed dramatically. Sure to make an overdone show of getting up and walking to his spare bedroom (house of all things temporary and/or unable to be otherwise displayed), he opened the door with a last jibe of “That mochi better be gone by the time I’m back, kiddo.” Never mind that Zaizen was actually older than him.
It takes him longer than expected to find the right bag. Most of the gifts he and Yukimura had brought back from their travels had been separated but several were unmarked - with everything being roughly the same size, there’s a lot of plastic bag rustling involved. After opening the bag intended for Marui for the third time, Akaya finally made an affirmative shout and slid back into the living area triumphantly.
“Okay, so, I found it,” he said, oversized shopping bag held out in front of him. “Really gotta get this stuff outta there, though.”
Wrinkling his nose at Akaya’s taunting from the other room, Zaizen nibbled at his mochi to the tune of crinkling bags and shuffling feet. He finished the one piece by the time Akaya struck gold, but the second was still bobbing innocently in the last of his soup. Zaizen stuffed it in his face and made an impressive effort to down it at a reasonable speed. He was, fortunately, too busy trying to swallow to interpret that as an invitation to reorganize the second bedroom.
“Did you buy the entire America?” Zaizen asked, raising a pierced brow as he reached carefully for the bag. Just how many bags like this did Akaya manage to bring back?
“Yes,” Akaya started, rolling his eyes as he handed the bag over. “In this bag is the entire United States. Congratulations.”
He settled back on the couch, pulling his feet up and resting his elbows on his now-crossed legs. So, alright, maybe he had gone a bit overboard with the purchases, but post-tournament elation plus his already questionable-at-best self-control didn’t lend well to NOT overbuying souvenirs. He and Yukimura had a lot of friends, after all, and it just wouldn’t be fair to not bring them everything suitable, right?
“It’s, uh, nearly all food,” Akaya amends as Zaizen starts to pick through the bag. “But there’s a couple of other things in there, too. You were easy to shop for.” Then, after a moment - “Actually, everyone kind of was.”
Zaizen took the bag and settled it on his lap. “Thank you, Santa, for this United States,” he drawled, before starting to poke through it. His flat, sarcastic-delivery-deadpan tipped into something sort of resembling a smile as he neatly uncovered this and that. He pulled out different candies, some that he recognized, and others that he had to squint and tilt his chin back to read the label. “I wonder if these taste different,” he was somewhat boggled by the absolutely massive American King Size Kit Kat. Then, he held out a small box of Girl Scout Cookies, “Are these made of actual girl scouts?”
The keychain he uncovered would go on his guitar case. And then the Mickey Ears earned Akaya an eyebrow stare. The second set of ears, pretty, Mickey shaped earrings with a red stone, stopped the sarcasm in its tracks. Slowly, the corners of his lips twitched up as he read the back -- allergy safe.
Akaya tried to keep silent and let Zaizen trawl through the contents at his own pace, but he couldn't stop himself from making the occasional remark about where he picked up certain items or why he decided to buy some in particular. Most was just from day-to-day exploring, but the Kit Kats were naturally sought out in particular. “You know you don't have to wonder,” Akaya added to Zaizen's comment. “You can just eat it.”
Seeing an actual expression of surprise and happiness cross Zaizen's usually set features caused Akaya’s eyes to widen slightly. He grinned back, reaching in and fishing the last notable item - a tacky plastic kazoo - from the bottom of the bag. “They're cute, right? In a stylish way,” he turned the kazoo over in his palm, then let it dangle from his fingers in a loose grip.
At Akaya’s assertion, Zaizen dropped his smile to possessively cover his kit kat and sulk at Akaya as if he were some kind of heathen. “I’m going to save it.”
After ensuring that Akaya wasn’t going to try to open it or anything of the sort, he reached up to carefully remove his little black pearl earrings and swap them for the tiny Mickey ear birthstone. He didn’t SAY that they were cute, but putting them on rather indicated his approval. As he affixed the backs, he noted the plastic kazoo dangling from Akaya’s fingertips, “is that my sign to trigger the apocalypse? I’m pretty sure I can summon hell with that.”
“You gotta eat it eventually,” Akaya pouts. “I didn’t pick it up just for it to sit around for ages.” That said, he made no other motion toward it - Zaizen could continue to be particular and Akaya could continue to judge him.
But the earrings went in and Akaya couldn’t help but smile again. There was a little smugness infused in it, an indicator of the pride in his decision-making that he was actually managing to hold back. “I got a pair for my sister, too, but hers are like… white, so they don’t look as good,” he admitted. “And you like red, so it all worked out.
As for this…” he passed the kazoo over. “After you woke me up at 3am, I just ended up buying a bunch. Amassing an army to open the gates of hell, so you’re on the right track, yeah.”
Yes, Zaizen would eat it eventually, but in private, where he wouldn’t be guilted into sharing the tiniest piece.
“The white will suit her,” Zaizen commented, although he definitely preferred his red ones. That way, they were probably plain enough to not draw any negative attention at the pharmacy.
He received the kazoo and gave it a plaintive toot; somehow, he even gave the horrible sound an emotion. “It’s not my fault you don’t use ‘do not disturb.’ I just wanted to leave a message.” As Zaizen searched the couch pillows for his cookies, he continued experimental little roots of the instrument — a longer, pleased sound when he happened upon the caramel cookies. “To hell?” he offered a cookie in one hand and finally picked up his beer with the other..
The telling buzzes of the kazoo made Akaya laugh, accepting the offered cookie with an acknowledging gesture after he takes it. Akaya waited until his chuckling wore off before making an attempt at eating the cookie - a pleased hum being the result. Well, he had already had some back in California, so the taste wasn’t as surprising as it could have been.
A shrug responded to Zaizen’s query as Akaya thought about what he meant. “Yup, why not. Sure ain’t gonna open gates to anywhere else with those noises,” he reasoned, before switching to a deadpan tone. “Unless you’re the only one playing it, apparently. What the heck.”
Seeing Zaizen start on his beer reminded Akaya that he’d finished his. Time to fix that - he hopped off the couch to grab another can.
“Devil Akaya, I am your foretold access to the underworld,” he said flatly and sounded the kazoo in an ominous tune.
Although, the tennis player, with all his smiles and laughter in the flickering light of the television, seemed anything but devilish. It was kind of nice, he decided, and put down the instrument in favor of cookies chased with beer. “Feed me and maintain the connection with your ancestors,” he rolled his wrist in a limp gesture, suggesting so-on-and-so-forth.
“Ha ha. If awful kazoo playing is all it takes to get there, then I’m set,” Akaya said, making it back to the couch with a new can in one hand and a second in the other, which he set down in front of Zaizen so the musician wouldn’t have to get up again. He shoved Zaizen lightly with his shoulder. “Seems like this ancestral connection’ll be goin’ strong for a while, then.”
Leaning back and taking up more than his fair share of the couch, something caught Akaya’s eye, finally. Frowning, he turned his head one way and then back, watching the light of his living room catch the piercing in Zaizen’s brow that had gone unnoticed by him until now. “You’ve got a new hole in your face!” He said, surprised.
Mid-sip, Zaizen eyed Akaya bringing over a second can. At least he could trust Akaya’s priorities, if not his taste in musical instruments (nevermind that it was Zaizen himself, who had initiated the downward spiral of kazoo song covers with his 3am call to Akaya). He swayed with the shove and ticked back like a metronome. “Are you suggesting that there might be a matcha cream future beyond my kit kat future?”
The kit kat future was bright and beautiful enough, already too optimistic for this aesthetic.
Leaning into the other side of the couch with his beer, Zaizen raised the brow in question. “Congrats. It only took my half-blind mom five minutes less to notice.”
Akaya nudged the bag of snacks with his foot, the plastic rustling to make a point. “I hand you all this and you’re still on matcha cream?” He asks, amusement mixed with incredulity in his voice. He knew that was kind of a stupid this to ask - Zaizen would be on matcha cream for the rest of his life, in all likelihood.
Abandoning his fresh can of alcohol to the safety of the table in favour of reaching over and moving Zaizen’s hair away from the aforementioned new face piercing, Akaya let out a low whistle. “Hey. It’s just you were talking about it before,” he started, giving the silver bar a careful and considered look. “I thought you’d make a bigger deal of it when you actually got it done.”
He flicked Zaizen’s fringe back into place, bringing a hand to his chin as if he were judging an antique. “Yup, looks good,” he said finally, shrugging. “So that’s where all that money went.”
“I said future,” Zaizen pointed out as Akaya drew close. Very close. Close enough for him to smell the beer and coconut mingling on Akaya’s breath. He spent one blink, then two, on simply staring, eyes slightly widened. And then he was back a few beats later, chasing Akaya off with a harmless swat.
“Must you, with the coconut hands and the hair,” he straightened his bangs fastidiously and thought privately that there were worse things for his hair to smell like. “Do you really expect me to post on my journal, hey everyone, come look at my new and special face hole. Akaya thinks that it’s rad.”
Letting out a short laugh as he was swatted away, Akaya raised his hands in a show of surrender. “Yeah, yeah! I just wanted to see it properly,” he said. He waved his fingers to show they were pretty much clean before retrieving his beer. He wasn’t rude enough to be getting cookie grease in his friend’s hair.
“Like, honestly? I kinda did expect something like that,” he shrugged before grimacing. “Though not in that wording.” Akaya did feel kind of silly that he hadn’t noticed the piercing earlier, but he reasoned that it’s not like he’d had a good chance to look Zaizen in the face properly since he arrived.
Zaizen kept his swat-hand raised another minute, just in case it looked like Kirihara would swoop back in and try to prod at it. When the tennis player resumed his beer, Zaizen decided he was safe enough to sip at his own.
“If I posted too much about myself online, people would eventually figure out that I’m only imitating human life,” he said casually, as if reminding Akaya of something he already knew and accepted as fact.
“Yeah, I get it. You’re a mysterious otherworldly being.” Nodding slowly in reluctant acceptance of that explanation, Akaya shuffled to lean his head against the back of the couch, still taking up more space than necessary. The TV droned for a while as the two of them fell into comfortable silence, punctuated only by Akaya’s occasional approving noise at a good play on screen (the stream had shifted to Overwatch sometime since he’d last paid attention to it).
“Y’know,” he said suddenly, speaking as soon as the thought came to him and he (once again) ran out of beer to occupy him. “I have fun when I’m away, but like. Part of me understands why you’re a home life kinda person, too. Sometimes it’s just the best thing, though less lonely would be better.” Maybe that was post-trip exhaustion talking, but being comfortable and chill was making him happy, too.
Mellowed out by the beer, Zaizen twisted around to put his back against the armrest and wriggle his feet on either side of his obnoxious, space-stealing companion. Akaya could deal with a bit of calf.
The introvert life was really the best life, where Zaizen was concerned. But that was probably because he got enough socialization from school, friends, and the occasional gig. For him, this was the best way to unwind.
“Are you?” he asked, prodding Akaya’s side with his socked foot. “Lonely?”
Oh. That was a leg. A couple of legs, actually, alright. Akaya shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position that would accommodate Zaizen’s stretching out, and as a result sort of. Ended up half in the other boy’s lap. At least it got the bony ankle out of his side. And, well, he did like the contact - a well-established fact.
“Huh?” He makes the sound less out of confusion and more as a sound of acknowledgement, because it takes him a moment to fully process what Zaizen is asking. The loneliness comment had been off-hand, but now that it was posed as a question…
“...kind of, I guess.” Akaya shrugged, an odd movement in his current position. “I mean, not really, since I see people a lot and… like… I dunno. It’s not that kind of lonely, so I don’t really know. But you know me, right? I like havin’ people around.”
And closer, again, but this time he could fully see and predict the backward scooch of his companion. It was fine as long as it didn’t surprise him.
Zaizen set the empty beer can on the ground and hummed, seeming to consider and accept Akaya’s feelings with the sound. “You are weird like that,” he agreed, mindlessly occupying his now empty hand with Akaya’s hair. It wasn’t his fault that it was soft and within arm’s reach. “But I get that its probably weird for you. To have no one at home. And without a roommate, you’re away too much for a pet.”
“You’re weird,” came the instant, reactive retort, but it was more grumpy than annoyed. There was a hand in his hair now, apparently. That felt nice, and Akaya hummed in a sort of call-and-response manner that echoed Zaizen’s earlier nonverbal response. He let himself relax, eyes closing for a moment. It’s not like he was very eloquent when it came to his own feelings - not any better than he was dealing with other people’s.
“That’s the thing, right. No one wants to put up with like, half a housemate. And it’s s’posed to be… independence, or whatever,” Akaya said, trying to not overthink his words. He tilted his head up, an awkward attempt at trying to spy Zaizen’s face. Not really thinking, a hand came up, hesitant for a moment, before extending one careful finger to give Zaizen’s eyebrow piercing a quick but gentle poke.
“I dunno, half a housemate seems ideal to me,” Zaizen let Akaya recline as his fingers played among his soft curls. “And as for independence….”
He paused in the way he sometimes did in person while waiting for the right word to pop into his head. But before it could, Akaya’s hand came up slowly to prod at his barbell, sliding the metal closer to the other side. Beyond peering down at the curious Akaya, Zaizen allowed it to happen. Lips tilting into a small smirk, he said, “you think it looks good?”
Akaya blinked back, retreating his hand. “Yeah,” he replied. “I told you. ‘N now that I’ve noticed it, I have no idea how it took me so long before.”
He fell silent for a moment. Trying to consider Zaizen’s words was proving difficult, since he was still kind of tired and now having a confusing battle with his own attempts to express his own thoughts. “I guess…” Akaya trails off, pursing his lips in annoyance with his own hesitation. “You can’t have half a housemate, it’s either all or no housemate at awkward times, right?”
As for independence. Akaya knew something wasn’t quite right with that. Suddenly feeling hazily confused, he huffed out a sigh and turned over, ending up with his arms half-slung over Zaizen’s sides.
Zaizen showed Akaya a teeny smile for his tipsy compliment and resumed petting him in motions that were almost rhythmic — maybe his fingers were just playing and teasing a song only known to them.
“I just meant that a housemate would be fine, but to have no alone time at all would make it…” his fingers paused with him. “...hard to breathe. Half company seems like a good compromise.”
He lifted his arm to accommodate Akaya’s sudden turn and his own shift from pillow to sort of large teddy bear. Whatever. Akaya was warm and not being entirely terrible company. The kit kats were good too.
When Akaya collapsed into his huff, Zaizen just pet him, counting the moments in beats until the words he wanted fell into his melodic stream of thought. “Independence doesn’t mean you have to be alone, you know. Just that you make your own choices and own them.”
If Akaya were capable of it, he would be purring by now, some traitorous part of his brain chimed in. Akaya resolutely shoved it down and just enjoyed the feeling of Zaizen’s careful hands drifting through his hair. One eye remained open to watch the TV screen drift from colour to colour, but his focus had entirely gone elsewhere.
“I’m not alone,” he reaffirmed. It felt unfair to say that when his friends were so accommodating and kind - heck, he was using one as a human stuffed animal right now. “But… yeah. You’re right? I know you’re right, but, that’s just how it feels, or something.” A sigh. “Lonely but not alone sounds stupid, anyway. Feelings are dumb. Maybe you’ve been right all along.”
Another pause was covered by the low drone of the game commentators as Akaya thought. Despite his feelings on independence, he still brought people along overseas, so really he was being hypocritical anyway. Oh well, he considered, as Zaizen’s hands skimmed over the top of his scalp - there were worse ways to contradict himself.
“I’m always right.” Zaizen shrugged, an aborted gesture since Kirihara was half on top of him, being an energy-efficient heated blanket. Tugging lightly at a curl, he admonished, “But it’s less stupid than you think. I’m pretty sure that there are at least a thousand songs about that, if you want a feelings are dumb playlist.”
As if making up for the tug, his fingers resumed the hypnotic, circular motions of before. “...You know,” he said. “You have such nice hair and you take such crap care of it.”
“Maybe I’d like that. Or maybe I just want new music,” Akaya said as non-committal as possible. Zaizen's music mixes were usually completely on the mark. His shoulders twitched in reaction to the slight, unexpected pull on his hair. “... didn't mean to get all gripe-y at you, by the way. Was just thinking.”
Almost dozing off under the slow movements, Akaya was drawn back awake by the criticism of his hair care. Pouting, although Zaizen likely couldn't see it from their current position, Akaya snaked his arms more around his friend’s torso in what was intended as protest but probably felt more like clingyness. “I take super normal care of it. Usin’ conditioner and gettin’ it cut by an actual professional like a normal person.”
It was kind of cute. Almost. To more feel than see Akaya react to him. With a low hum that probably pushed against Akaya’s face, Zaizen said calmly, “You’re allowed to feel things. I don’t have the monopoly on griping in this friendship.”
But Akaya probably had the monopoly on anaconda arms. He waited until Akaya had finished his cuddle clingworm protest to get comfortable in his grip and resume combing through his hair, this time bringing pieces gently up between his fingers for relaxed examination. “Yeah? What shampoo and conditioner do you use?”
Logically Akaya knew that talking stuff through made him feel better, and that Zaizen was a good person to reflect ideas and issues off of. Despite his insistence otherwise, Zaizen was pretty good at dealing with emotions as long as they weren't his own and came from an otherwise known source, apparently. “Yeah,” Akaya mumbled, trying very hard to sound confident. Then, quietly, almost unintelligibly - “Thanks.”
As for the hair thing. It seemed like as good a time as any to feign silence. There's a few moments of pause that hang awkwardly in the air at the question before Akaya realised that there's no way Zaizen would let him get away with that. “I don't… know,” he admitted slowly, aware of the smug response he was probably inviting.
Zaizen did let the silence hang in the air for some time, intentional and punctuational among the flowing movements he played over Kirihara’s hair. Between Akaya’s shy thanks and his reluctant, unearthed admission, he ventured his fingertips down to Akaya’s nape, stroking relief into the muscles with fine circles.
“Mmmm,” he let the calm fermata linger on the air. “You….” after another pause, the words unfurled in their own time, their obstacles somewhat cleared by the small amount of alcohol. “You did good. With the tournament. With the mental game. With everything moving around it. That kind of intensity leaves things in its wake to pick up later.”
And it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. If the loneliness lingered, it would be addressed when Akaya was ready to do so.
“And, well,” Zaizen’s fingers smoothed back up among wild curls. “We can spend a little bit of that prize money on some good hair care for you.”
A brief shudder ran down Akaya’s spine as he felt pressure on the back of his neck. The drone of the TV and the comfortable contact meant that Akaya wanted to stay awake to enjoy the relaxation. It was a rare thing, to have calm moments like this, especially in post-travel cooldown where he usually took to burning energy or sleeping with very little in between. Tilting his head sideways to avoid getting attention on only half his neck, he sighed, but his ears pricked up at the start of Zaizen’s sentence.
Waiting patiently was never a strong point, but Akaya willed himself to just wait as Zaizen considered his words. He wasn’t expecting the careful, quiet encouragement to come from his usually prickly friend, though. Akaya tensed slightly, frozen in shock, blinking rapidly over wide eyes. After a few solid minutes of stuttered processing, Akaya opened his mouth to say something in reply, only to close it again almost immediately. Words failing him wasn’t something he was used to at all.
An inner battle was waged - half of him wanted to stay silent and pretend he didn’t hear anything, while the other half wanted to sit up and make fun of Zaizen for daring to Show An Emotional Response. After a short time, a treaty seemed to be reached. The compromise resulted in Akaya burying his face in Zaizen’s abdomen with a nod and a muffled “Sure, whatever.”
Smooth and tactful.
The look and stutter of a broken furby looked surprisingly endearing on Akaya. Zaizen’s narrow, relaxed gaze watched the utter fail-to-compute and eventual surrender to hide against his chest. There were plenty of sarcastic or smug comments that could have filled the silence. Instead, he filled it with humming along to the play-through music on the television and sifting through Akaya’s hair at whatever pace pleased him moment to moment while he wondered what hair products and smells might suit his friend.
The flight instinct that had kicked in took a while to subside - the only reason Akaya hadn’t just up and fled was that he refused to do so in his own home, with what was otherwise a rare opportunity for comfort still in front of him. Half-expecting a jibe or any kind of verbalisation from Zaizen, Akaya’s compulsion and accompanying heart rate were not exactly helped by the melodic humming they received instead.
Eventually, though, Akaya uncovered his face. Resolutely looking at the TV and nowhere else, following the action more through Zaizen’s humming than the actual visuals, he finally mustered up the strength to produce words. “If you’re gonna buy me hair stuff, make sure it doesn’t straighten anything,” he said, still a slight bewildered tone in his voice.
Zaizen paused his online shopping and easy humming to take Akaya’s words with first mild confusion, and then amusement. “The curl and volume is good,” he agreed, giving the hair under his fingers an easy ruffle. “Do keep in mind that it’s distinctive. You’re a reject as a secret agent on that basis.”
“I know,” Akaya muttered. “That’s why it’s gotta stay pretty much the same. I ain’t going for subtle or anything.”
Despite it sounding like a complaint, or at the very least a protest, Akaya was starting to feel… better. The fuzziness of the flight response had almost faded completely, leaving a strong sense of contentment in its stead. He was starting to feel worn out, though, the minor crisis he’d experienced having drained him of any remaining energy. And he was so comfortable.
“Not doubting your knowledge or whatever,” he added vaguely. “Just sayin’.”
With a huff that almost sort of resembled a short laugh, Zaizen said, “You couldn’t locate subtle if it followed you around for an entire day flicking you with a spoon.” But the critique was much softened by Zaizen’s slow monotone and the patterns of his fingers along Akaya’s nape.
“Your hair will be similar, just better,” with more shine and strength, less effort to coax his curls here or there.
Akaya was about to formulate some kind of counter to the alleged entire lack of subtlety, but managed to hold himself back considering his current position and the rest of the last month or so still on his mind. It wasn’t important. Being unsubtle was actually fine, anyway. His thoughts were cut off by another small jolt in reaction to the touch on his neck, a sigh as his eyes slid closed.
“Mmkay,” he said, voice laced with oncoming drowsiness. “Don’t think there’s ‘nything wrong with it right now, but mmkay.”
Zaizen made a vague noise, but otherwise didn’t interrupt his steady ministrations. “You wash it too much,” he decided, was part of the reason for the split ends. “Among other things.”
If his increasingly regulated breathing were any indication, it didn’t really seem that Akaya was paying attention. So, naturally, while the seaweed head nodded off, Zaizen nicked the phone from Akaya’s back pocket and performed the ritual swipe as the password.
Easy.
Since Akaya was still logged into Amazon, it was as simple as a few clicks to realize his shopping. And maybe, when the task was done, he would see about taking advantage of the Akaya’s dependable warmth for a catnap of his own.
Had he still retained enough energy to do so, there would have been a question about what “among other things” was supposed to mean, but in his lulled state all Akaya can manage is a hazy sound of acknowledgement that morphed into a sort-of protest as his phone was taken. He was too far gone to really do anything about it, though, and the little part of his mind still awake enough to make a decision reminded him that Zaizen wasn’t the type to do anything genuinely damaging.
So Akaya fell quietly into sleep, blissfully unaware of the Amazon trawling being conducted in his name, but feeling quite comfortable and cared for.
Where: Kirihara's apartment
When: Shortly after Akaya comes back to Japan
What: Souvenirs and brocuddles
Rating: A for Adorable
Figuring that enough time had passed for Akaya to have arrived in his nice cozy home, perfected his impression of a potato, and stuffed his face with ramen, Zaizen plucked up his phone to greet his friend from the heart:
Are you alive? And also, what did you bring me?
Sprawled over his couch with his phone on his chest and not really paying attention to whatever was on TV was Akaya, who was at the tail end of recovery mode. The nearly month-long trip had been great and all, but a significant part of him was very pleased to be back in his own home (even if he did have a door covered in more decorations than he could count.)
His phone buzzing made him start slightly. Picking it up, he squinted blearily at the screen until he could actually make out Zaizen’s message. Akaya chuckled, holding the phone high above his head as he tapped out a reply.
Making it back to full operational standards, yeah. As for that, you’ll have to come and see.
Zaizen had returned to strumming his guitar and didn’t stop when the phone flashed. Only when his fingers had climbed to the song did he reach for it. For such a fast response, Akaya must be nearly done with his (completely earned) useless kakuna time.
You have standards? This is news to me, he wrote back, and eyed the clock. Nearing the end of my practice room reserve. OK to come by?
He specifically asked because, if it were him recovering from a month long trip, he very much doubted he would want to see a human for an additional month.
I didn’t say they were high standards, Akaya typed, playing along. But yeah, come over if ya want. We can go for udon?
Hitting send, Akaya almost immediately regretted the suggestion. He was happy to be home and content to just be on his couch, reworking the cushions back into suitable lumpiness for his body. Rather than send a follow-up, though, he just figured waiting until Zaizen got to his place would yield the same result. It wasn’t as if Zaizen was usually keen to be out.
As he put away his instrument, Zaizen read the text and made a face.
Rest assured I have no great expectations, he slung the guitar over his back and went to formally submit his protest…
But then he felt bad. Slightly. Maybe Kirihara really wanted to go out for udon. Or...
Counter-proposal. I bring us udon and you don’t subject me to public exposure until later. If at all.
Blinking at the response, Akaya smiled as he started to write back. Figured as much.
Yeah that’s good too. I actually don’t really wanna go out and figured you wouldn’t either after I sent that, he admitted. Get me kitsune. I’ll shout you as thanks for delivery!
Sighing and dropping his phone into the crook of his neck, Akaya resolved to not move until Zaizen arrived with dinner. It was still a little early. Honestly, most of his recovery claims had been brave talk - he’d still had gym that morning, and he was still tired, so a quiet night in was definitely best. Without the company he might have gone a little stir-crazy, though.
Akaya knew his avoidance tactics well. And although he might have liked to treat as a celebration of Akaya’s victory, he couldn’t really afford it after getting his brow pierced.
Jewelry > Food: his priorities were in perfect order.
Anything else while I’m out? he typed as he ducked into a convenience store for other essentials while he waited for their udon.
Shoving at his phone with his chin to dislodge it after it vibrated in alert against his collarbone, Akaya’s phone toppled to the floor with a muted THUNK. He reached down lazily to grab it, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise at Zaizen’s offer.
Beer, he replied. His fridge still had a few cans but if Zaizen was already out it wouldn’t hurt to pick up more. and maybe like- he deleted the second half, remembering he had a whole bag of snack foods to shove at Zaizen anyway. Just beer.
Of course, the Kirihara special. Zaizen rolled his eyes and picked the tennis player’s unfortunate favorite. In the name of health he added some pre-made edamame to that order.
Bag number one of stuff secured, he picked up their udon for bag number two. The food/booze burden combined with his guitar made for one interesting trip. This time he used the buzzer not to irritate Akaya, but because he didn’t have the available hands to text. “I’m dying, open your sketchy gate.”
Letting out a groan as his buzzer rang, Akaya peeled himself off the couch long enough to give Zaizen a mumbled “yeah, yeah” in reply and slap the button for his gate, unlatching the door before draping himself somewhat dramatically back over the couch.
Despite his attempt to put on an extra-exhausted facade, Akaya couldn’t help but smile a little as the luggage-laden form of his friend come through the door.
“Evening, pack mule,” he greeted, getting up once more to relieve Zaizen of the food at least.
Standing there among his bags and packages, Zaizen grumbled at Kirihara, “Why do I do things?”
It probably wasn’t the nicest way to greet his friend after not seeing him an entire month. However, from his perspective, the udon and beer rather made up for it. Once Akaya took the food, Zaizen was able to put down his guitar, kick off his boots, and give his shoulders a few much needed rolls.
“Because somewhere in your little hollow heart, you missed me,” Akaya chimed, depositing the food on his kitchen counter. Leaning against it, he grinned at Zaizen, crossing his arms and tilting his head to one side. “Thanks for helping look after the place while I was gone.”
The apartment had been in impeccable order when Akaya had returned, so he knew that the full combination of people he’d left the housesitting to had done a good job. There was no mistaking Zaizen’s particular orderly tendencies, though.
“We talked basically every day,” Zaizen pointed out. But he did not refute Akaya’s claim that Zaizen had missed him, instead, he took off his jacket and moved into the kitchen to steal some water from the sink, as if this were his own home.
The thanks had him turning around and raising a newly pierced brow at Akaya. They were words that felt odd and foreign. His face formed into a sort-of grimace and he said, “I ate all of your food.”
Although he did leave Akaya with newly roasted pumpkin and a fresh six pack. He swallowed any minor embarrassment with his glass of water.
Shrugging, completely unbothered by Zaizen’s casual treatment of his kitchen, Akaya spun around to unpack the udon and drinks. He raised an eyebrow at the edamame, but smiled to himself and got a bowl to upend the beans into. “Yeah, but it’s not the same. And I know you ate all my food,” he said lightly. “I said you could, remember?”
He delicately peeled the lid off of his noodles. The steam filled the air, bringing with it the smell of broth. “I missed Japanese food so much,” he sighed, working a beer free from the pack and loosening a second one for Zaizen to grab before heading back to the couch.
Why was Akaya determined to make him suffer like this? It was tempting to flick water at him. But he tamely sipped at the glass and glared mildly at Akaya while he worked.
“I hope you didn’t try to find any in America,” Zaizen said, taking the free beer and following Akaya with his own chikara udon in hand. “I mean, California might not be the worst but, Florida?”
At least there were a lot of Japanese in California, from what he heard.
“I had some sushi in California. It was alright,” Akaya admitted, ignoring the aburaage in his udon in favour of noodles for now. “But I wasn’t gonna risk America ruining noodles for me.”
Trapping the takeout bowl between his raised knees and his chest, Akaya attempted some ambidextrous hand acrobatics trying to use his chopsticks with his right hand and work the PS4 controller with his left. The screen flickered awkwardly as he scrolled through the menu, settling on whatever came up on the Twitch front page. It was just background noise, anyway.
“So, like, anything major you didn’t end up mentioning?” He questioned, chasing a slippery piece of narutomaki in his bowl.
Zaizen put his soup and beer down on the table to settle comfortably on the couch. Only when he reached optimal comfort did he reach for the noodles to give them a friendly stir with his chopsticks. He nudged the mochi toward the bottom, fully intent to save the best for last.
“Probably a good choice,” he definitely wouldn’t trust any other country with his favorite red bean soup either. After a few minutes of casually watching twitch and poking slowly around his bowl, Zaizen volunteered a nugget of information with a shrug that suggested it really wasn’t much at all, “I had a few paid gigs. The ballet.”
Which was how he had the money to get his piercing at all.
Despite trying to savour the udon, the bowl was pretty much polished off in less than five minutes. Also having saved the best for last, Akaya bites through the aburaage only to drop the other half back in his bowl when Zaizen mentioned the ballet. He tried to stifle a laugh with the tofu and took a second to recover.
“I-I know what you mean, but- haha. I just. Imagined you dancing,” he manages to say, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Lessons with Shiraishi-san. Haha. What did you actually end up playing?”
Zaizen paused mid noodle-to-mouth to execute a look of disdain commensurate with Akaya’s extremely unnecessary visualization. “You realize that you’re the actual worst.”
He really didn’t need to imagine himself in a tutu. Or twerking with Shiraishi. Zaizen wondered what he had done in a past life to deserve these images.
Glare milded to minor annoyance grade, he blew on his noodle and ate it slowly. “Violin. Percussion, triangle.”
To distract Akaya from the whole topic, he plopped some of his noodles in the tennis player’s bowl. Since he couldn’t finish the whole thing and udon wasn’t really good leftover, it might as well not go to waste.
Still fighting his grin, Akaya made a noise of interest at the examples Zaizen listed. At the mention of the triangle, his arm moved almost instinctively to perform an air-chime with his chopsticks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you play violin much,” Akaya muses, only for the thought to be interrupted by the arrival of extra noodles.
Murmuring a surprised “thanks”, he ate the additional udon without waiting, chewing thoughtfully. “The ballet seems like it would pay well, though, so that’s good for a fill-in kinda thing, huh? Are you saving up?” Spearing the last of the aburaage and finishing it with relish, Akaya deposited the empty takeout bowl on the table with a quick gochisousama, much happier after a good meal.
“I don’t really like violin,” Zaizen admitted. “But there are more violins in the piece. Easier to use a student sub for violin 5 instead of cello 2.” Although he could certainly play for the latter, they were more likely to find an actual pro with fewer instrument representation.
That smug grin had Zaizen nudging Kirihara’s calf with his foot in lieu of continued glaring. “Mm,” he commented vaguely, nibbling at the egg he had added just because the tennis player had said that he would pay. “I spoiled myself a little already and ate an entire vegetable while you were gone,” he drawled, half-sarcasm. Since he had accomplished his piercing, he said, “Saving up for loan payments.”
If finishing dinner were a race, Zaizen definitely had another two or three laps before gochisousama.
Akaya opted to sip at his beer now that food was over and done with for him. Snickering at Zaizen’s mildly annoyed kick at his leg, he sat back and watched the TV with no real focus. He didn’t even recognise the game being played. “So it’s like a supply-and-demand kinda deal, huh,” he said, not really sure if that was the right turn of phrase. “Well, if you’re fine with it, I guess it doesn’t matter too much.”
Glancing at his friend from the corner of his eye, Akaya turned to properly face him with a slightly offended look on his face. “Oi, you got egg? I should have gotten egg,” he whined. “I mean, I’m not mad that you’re taking advantage of my generosity,” the last word hangs with false self-importance for a moment - “if you’ve got loans. Hell, you’re eating actual protein.”
That reminded Akaya that he should get up and grab Zaizen’s gifts as well as pay him back, but he figured waiting until the other boy had finished eating might be best.
“Sort of,” Zaizen frowned, considering an analogy that Akaya would understand. “If it’s football and you need three defenders, you would need three or more backup defenders. You might reach a little more in quality for a less experienced player. But there’s only one goalie on the field, less necessity to stretch for backup.”
Not that Zaizen wasn’t a good musician. He just lacked the sterling professional resume that many of the first and section chairs had.
For the most simple answer to Akaya’s complaint, Zaizen put the egg down and neatly split it with his chopsticks. “You could have added one to your order, Generous-Big-Shot-san,” he drawled, holding said half-egg up in peace offering.
“Okay, I get that,” Akaya said, somewhat dubiously. “So it’s a numbers thing. Lineup. Sure.” More likely that someone in one section would need covering if there were just more of them in the first place. He nodded once as if to justify his reasoning to himself.
Having already relegated his eating implements to the table trash pile, Akaya stared down the offered egg for a moment (in mild shock as well as doubt) before shrugging and eating it right off of Zaizen’s chopsticks instead. A better man might have turned it down, but hey. He wanted egg.
Zaizen nodded, rather unperturbed by Akaya eating directly from his chopsticks; growing up with his nephew, he experienced much grosser things than minor cootie exchange. “Still not steady, though.” He would have to find a real part time job.
In pursuit of the actual protein that Akaya mentioned, he polished off the second half of his egg before prodding thoughtfully at the mochi, as if to decide whether or not he was Ready. “My real question is, though, between you and Yukimura-san, are there any actual ears left at Disney World?”
Satisfied with the half-egg, Akaya “hmm”ed in agreement and downed the remainder of his beer. “You could try selling some compositions online if you really needed money,” he suggested. “Y’know, for like, people needing background music for videos or indie games or something.” Even though that still wasn’t a consistent job, it would make a bit of side bank.
At the mention of he and his captain scoping out Disney, a sheepish grin etched itself onto Akaya’s face. “Well… we were there a while. But they’re, like, prepared for big purchases. I bought a few other things there too.” A shrug, and then in a singsong voice; “If you eat your mochi I’ll go and get your pre~sents…”
Zaizen stretched the mochi with his chopsticks, considering if could become two pieces for double the mochi enjoyment. Still pursuing this end, he answered Akaya’s suggestion at a mutter, “If I really need to, maybe. Composing energy is more valuable toward my schoolwork.”
He would simply have to Get a Job.
Having succeeded in mochi diffusion, Zaizen raised one piece aside the dregs of the remaining soup to stare at Akaya’s admission that they had, basically, bought enough ears for a small tennis army. “Or you could stop acting like an elementary school teacher and get them now,” Zaizen suggested. “If you’re truly invested, maybe I’ll have even finished the mochi by the time you get back.”
Akaya sighed dramatically. Sure to make an overdone show of getting up and walking to his spare bedroom (house of all things temporary and/or unable to be otherwise displayed), he opened the door with a last jibe of “That mochi better be gone by the time I’m back, kiddo.” Never mind that Zaizen was actually older than him.
It takes him longer than expected to find the right bag. Most of the gifts he and Yukimura had brought back from their travels had been separated but several were unmarked - with everything being roughly the same size, there’s a lot of plastic bag rustling involved. After opening the bag intended for Marui for the third time, Akaya finally made an affirmative shout and slid back into the living area triumphantly.
“Okay, so, I found it,” he said, oversized shopping bag held out in front of him. “Really gotta get this stuff outta there, though.”
Wrinkling his nose at Akaya’s taunting from the other room, Zaizen nibbled at his mochi to the tune of crinkling bags and shuffling feet. He finished the one piece by the time Akaya struck gold, but the second was still bobbing innocently in the last of his soup. Zaizen stuffed it in his face and made an impressive effort to down it at a reasonable speed. He was, fortunately, too busy trying to swallow to interpret that as an invitation to reorganize the second bedroom.
“Did you buy the entire America?” Zaizen asked, raising a pierced brow as he reached carefully for the bag. Just how many bags like this did Akaya manage to bring back?
“Yes,” Akaya started, rolling his eyes as he handed the bag over. “In this bag is the entire United States. Congratulations.”
He settled back on the couch, pulling his feet up and resting his elbows on his now-crossed legs. So, alright, maybe he had gone a bit overboard with the purchases, but post-tournament elation plus his already questionable-at-best self-control didn’t lend well to NOT overbuying souvenirs. He and Yukimura had a lot of friends, after all, and it just wouldn’t be fair to not bring them everything suitable, right?
“It’s, uh, nearly all food,” Akaya amends as Zaizen starts to pick through the bag. “But there’s a couple of other things in there, too. You were easy to shop for.” Then, after a moment - “Actually, everyone kind of was.”
Zaizen took the bag and settled it on his lap. “Thank you, Santa, for this United States,” he drawled, before starting to poke through it. His flat, sarcastic-delivery-deadpan tipped into something sort of resembling a smile as he neatly uncovered this and that. He pulled out different candies, some that he recognized, and others that he had to squint and tilt his chin back to read the label. “I wonder if these taste different,” he was somewhat boggled by the absolutely massive American King Size Kit Kat. Then, he held out a small box of Girl Scout Cookies, “Are these made of actual girl scouts?”
The keychain he uncovered would go on his guitar case. And then the Mickey Ears earned Akaya an eyebrow stare. The second set of ears, pretty, Mickey shaped earrings with a red stone, stopped the sarcasm in its tracks. Slowly, the corners of his lips twitched up as he read the back -- allergy safe.
Akaya tried to keep silent and let Zaizen trawl through the contents at his own pace, but he couldn't stop himself from making the occasional remark about where he picked up certain items or why he decided to buy some in particular. Most was just from day-to-day exploring, but the Kit Kats were naturally sought out in particular. “You know you don't have to wonder,” Akaya added to Zaizen's comment. “You can just eat it.”
Seeing an actual expression of surprise and happiness cross Zaizen's usually set features caused Akaya’s eyes to widen slightly. He grinned back, reaching in and fishing the last notable item - a tacky plastic kazoo - from the bottom of the bag. “They're cute, right? In a stylish way,” he turned the kazoo over in his palm, then let it dangle from his fingers in a loose grip.
At Akaya’s assertion, Zaizen dropped his smile to possessively cover his kit kat and sulk at Akaya as if he were some kind of heathen. “I’m going to save it.”
After ensuring that Akaya wasn’t going to try to open it or anything of the sort, he reached up to carefully remove his little black pearl earrings and swap them for the tiny Mickey ear birthstone. He didn’t SAY that they were cute, but putting them on rather indicated his approval. As he affixed the backs, he noted the plastic kazoo dangling from Akaya’s fingertips, “is that my sign to trigger the apocalypse? I’m pretty sure I can summon hell with that.”
“You gotta eat it eventually,” Akaya pouts. “I didn’t pick it up just for it to sit around for ages.” That said, he made no other motion toward it - Zaizen could continue to be particular and Akaya could continue to judge him.
But the earrings went in and Akaya couldn’t help but smile again. There was a little smugness infused in it, an indicator of the pride in his decision-making that he was actually managing to hold back. “I got a pair for my sister, too, but hers are like… white, so they don’t look as good,” he admitted. “And you like red, so it all worked out.
As for this…” he passed the kazoo over. “After you woke me up at 3am, I just ended up buying a bunch. Amassing an army to open the gates of hell, so you’re on the right track, yeah.”
Yes, Zaizen would eat it eventually, but in private, where he wouldn’t be guilted into sharing the tiniest piece.
“The white will suit her,” Zaizen commented, although he definitely preferred his red ones. That way, they were probably plain enough to not draw any negative attention at the pharmacy.
He received the kazoo and gave it a plaintive toot; somehow, he even gave the horrible sound an emotion. “It’s not my fault you don’t use ‘do not disturb.’ I just wanted to leave a message.” As Zaizen searched the couch pillows for his cookies, he continued experimental little roots of the instrument — a longer, pleased sound when he happened upon the caramel cookies. “To hell?” he offered a cookie in one hand and finally picked up his beer with the other..
The telling buzzes of the kazoo made Akaya laugh, accepting the offered cookie with an acknowledging gesture after he takes it. Akaya waited until his chuckling wore off before making an attempt at eating the cookie - a pleased hum being the result. Well, he had already had some back in California, so the taste wasn’t as surprising as it could have been.
A shrug responded to Zaizen’s query as Akaya thought about what he meant. “Yup, why not. Sure ain’t gonna open gates to anywhere else with those noises,” he reasoned, before switching to a deadpan tone. “Unless you’re the only one playing it, apparently. What the heck.”
Seeing Zaizen start on his beer reminded Akaya that he’d finished his. Time to fix that - he hopped off the couch to grab another can.
“Devil Akaya, I am your foretold access to the underworld,” he said flatly and sounded the kazoo in an ominous tune.
Although, the tennis player, with all his smiles and laughter in the flickering light of the television, seemed anything but devilish. It was kind of nice, he decided, and put down the instrument in favor of cookies chased with beer. “Feed me and maintain the connection with your ancestors,” he rolled his wrist in a limp gesture, suggesting so-on-and-so-forth.
“Ha ha. If awful kazoo playing is all it takes to get there, then I’m set,” Akaya said, making it back to the couch with a new can in one hand and a second in the other, which he set down in front of Zaizen so the musician wouldn’t have to get up again. He shoved Zaizen lightly with his shoulder. “Seems like this ancestral connection’ll be goin’ strong for a while, then.”
Leaning back and taking up more than his fair share of the couch, something caught Akaya’s eye, finally. Frowning, he turned his head one way and then back, watching the light of his living room catch the piercing in Zaizen’s brow that had gone unnoticed by him until now. “You’ve got a new hole in your face!” He said, surprised.
Mid-sip, Zaizen eyed Akaya bringing over a second can. At least he could trust Akaya’s priorities, if not his taste in musical instruments (nevermind that it was Zaizen himself, who had initiated the downward spiral of kazoo song covers with his 3am call to Akaya). He swayed with the shove and ticked back like a metronome. “Are you suggesting that there might be a matcha cream future beyond my kit kat future?”
The kit kat future was bright and beautiful enough, already too optimistic for this aesthetic.
Leaning into the other side of the couch with his beer, Zaizen raised the brow in question. “Congrats. It only took my half-blind mom five minutes less to notice.”
Akaya nudged the bag of snacks with his foot, the plastic rustling to make a point. “I hand you all this and you’re still on matcha cream?” He asks, amusement mixed with incredulity in his voice. He knew that was kind of a stupid this to ask - Zaizen would be on matcha cream for the rest of his life, in all likelihood.
Abandoning his fresh can of alcohol to the safety of the table in favour of reaching over and moving Zaizen’s hair away from the aforementioned new face piercing, Akaya let out a low whistle. “Hey. It’s just you were talking about it before,” he started, giving the silver bar a careful and considered look. “I thought you’d make a bigger deal of it when you actually got it done.”
He flicked Zaizen’s fringe back into place, bringing a hand to his chin as if he were judging an antique. “Yup, looks good,” he said finally, shrugging. “So that’s where all that money went.”
“I said future,” Zaizen pointed out as Akaya drew close. Very close. Close enough for him to smell the beer and coconut mingling on Akaya’s breath. He spent one blink, then two, on simply staring, eyes slightly widened. And then he was back a few beats later, chasing Akaya off with a harmless swat.
“Must you, with the coconut hands and the hair,” he straightened his bangs fastidiously and thought privately that there were worse things for his hair to smell like. “Do you really expect me to post on my journal, hey everyone, come look at my new and special face hole. Akaya thinks that it’s rad.”
Letting out a short laugh as he was swatted away, Akaya raised his hands in a show of surrender. “Yeah, yeah! I just wanted to see it properly,” he said. He waved his fingers to show they were pretty much clean before retrieving his beer. He wasn’t rude enough to be getting cookie grease in his friend’s hair.
“Like, honestly? I kinda did expect something like that,” he shrugged before grimacing. “Though not in that wording.” Akaya did feel kind of silly that he hadn’t noticed the piercing earlier, but he reasoned that it’s not like he’d had a good chance to look Zaizen in the face properly since he arrived.
Zaizen kept his swat-hand raised another minute, just in case it looked like Kirihara would swoop back in and try to prod at it. When the tennis player resumed his beer, Zaizen decided he was safe enough to sip at his own.
“If I posted too much about myself online, people would eventually figure out that I’m only imitating human life,” he said casually, as if reminding Akaya of something he already knew and accepted as fact.
“Yeah, I get it. You’re a mysterious otherworldly being.” Nodding slowly in reluctant acceptance of that explanation, Akaya shuffled to lean his head against the back of the couch, still taking up more space than necessary. The TV droned for a while as the two of them fell into comfortable silence, punctuated only by Akaya’s occasional approving noise at a good play on screen (the stream had shifted to Overwatch sometime since he’d last paid attention to it).
“Y’know,” he said suddenly, speaking as soon as the thought came to him and he (once again) ran out of beer to occupy him. “I have fun when I’m away, but like. Part of me understands why you’re a home life kinda person, too. Sometimes it’s just the best thing, though less lonely would be better.” Maybe that was post-trip exhaustion talking, but being comfortable and chill was making him happy, too.
Mellowed out by the beer, Zaizen twisted around to put his back against the armrest and wriggle his feet on either side of his obnoxious, space-stealing companion. Akaya could deal with a bit of calf.
The introvert life was really the best life, where Zaizen was concerned. But that was probably because he got enough socialization from school, friends, and the occasional gig. For him, this was the best way to unwind.
“Are you?” he asked, prodding Akaya’s side with his socked foot. “Lonely?”
Oh. That was a leg. A couple of legs, actually, alright. Akaya shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position that would accommodate Zaizen’s stretching out, and as a result sort of. Ended up half in the other boy’s lap. At least it got the bony ankle out of his side. And, well, he did like the contact - a well-established fact.
“Huh?” He makes the sound less out of confusion and more as a sound of acknowledgement, because it takes him a moment to fully process what Zaizen is asking. The loneliness comment had been off-hand, but now that it was posed as a question…
“...kind of, I guess.” Akaya shrugged, an odd movement in his current position. “I mean, not really, since I see people a lot and… like… I dunno. It’s not that kind of lonely, so I don’t really know. But you know me, right? I like havin’ people around.”
And closer, again, but this time he could fully see and predict the backward scooch of his companion. It was fine as long as it didn’t surprise him.
Zaizen set the empty beer can on the ground and hummed, seeming to consider and accept Akaya’s feelings with the sound. “You are weird like that,” he agreed, mindlessly occupying his now empty hand with Akaya’s hair. It wasn’t his fault that it was soft and within arm’s reach. “But I get that its probably weird for you. To have no one at home. And without a roommate, you’re away too much for a pet.”
“You’re weird,” came the instant, reactive retort, but it was more grumpy than annoyed. There was a hand in his hair now, apparently. That felt nice, and Akaya hummed in a sort of call-and-response manner that echoed Zaizen’s earlier nonverbal response. He let himself relax, eyes closing for a moment. It’s not like he was very eloquent when it came to his own feelings - not any better than he was dealing with other people’s.
“That’s the thing, right. No one wants to put up with like, half a housemate. And it’s s’posed to be… independence, or whatever,” Akaya said, trying to not overthink his words. He tilted his head up, an awkward attempt at trying to spy Zaizen’s face. Not really thinking, a hand came up, hesitant for a moment, before extending one careful finger to give Zaizen’s eyebrow piercing a quick but gentle poke.
“I dunno, half a housemate seems ideal to me,” Zaizen let Akaya recline as his fingers played among his soft curls. “And as for independence….”
He paused in the way he sometimes did in person while waiting for the right word to pop into his head. But before it could, Akaya’s hand came up slowly to prod at his barbell, sliding the metal closer to the other side. Beyond peering down at the curious Akaya, Zaizen allowed it to happen. Lips tilting into a small smirk, he said, “you think it looks good?”
Akaya blinked back, retreating his hand. “Yeah,” he replied. “I told you. ‘N now that I’ve noticed it, I have no idea how it took me so long before.”
He fell silent for a moment. Trying to consider Zaizen’s words was proving difficult, since he was still kind of tired and now having a confusing battle with his own attempts to express his own thoughts. “I guess…” Akaya trails off, pursing his lips in annoyance with his own hesitation. “You can’t have half a housemate, it’s either all or no housemate at awkward times, right?”
As for independence. Akaya knew something wasn’t quite right with that. Suddenly feeling hazily confused, he huffed out a sigh and turned over, ending up with his arms half-slung over Zaizen’s sides.
Zaizen showed Akaya a teeny smile for his tipsy compliment and resumed petting him in motions that were almost rhythmic — maybe his fingers were just playing and teasing a song only known to them.
“I just meant that a housemate would be fine, but to have no alone time at all would make it…” his fingers paused with him. “...hard to breathe. Half company seems like a good compromise.”
He lifted his arm to accommodate Akaya’s sudden turn and his own shift from pillow to sort of large teddy bear. Whatever. Akaya was warm and not being entirely terrible company. The kit kats were good too.
When Akaya collapsed into his huff, Zaizen just pet him, counting the moments in beats until the words he wanted fell into his melodic stream of thought. “Independence doesn’t mean you have to be alone, you know. Just that you make your own choices and own them.”
If Akaya were capable of it, he would be purring by now, some traitorous part of his brain chimed in. Akaya resolutely shoved it down and just enjoyed the feeling of Zaizen’s careful hands drifting through his hair. One eye remained open to watch the TV screen drift from colour to colour, but his focus had entirely gone elsewhere.
“I’m not alone,” he reaffirmed. It felt unfair to say that when his friends were so accommodating and kind - heck, he was using one as a human stuffed animal right now. “But… yeah. You’re right? I know you’re right, but, that’s just how it feels, or something.” A sigh. “Lonely but not alone sounds stupid, anyway. Feelings are dumb. Maybe you’ve been right all along.”
Another pause was covered by the low drone of the game commentators as Akaya thought. Despite his feelings on independence, he still brought people along overseas, so really he was being hypocritical anyway. Oh well, he considered, as Zaizen’s hands skimmed over the top of his scalp - there were worse ways to contradict himself.
“I’m always right.” Zaizen shrugged, an aborted gesture since Kirihara was half on top of him, being an energy-efficient heated blanket. Tugging lightly at a curl, he admonished, “But it’s less stupid than you think. I’m pretty sure that there are at least a thousand songs about that, if you want a feelings are dumb playlist.”
As if making up for the tug, his fingers resumed the hypnotic, circular motions of before. “...You know,” he said. “You have such nice hair and you take such crap care of it.”
“Maybe I’d like that. Or maybe I just want new music,” Akaya said as non-committal as possible. Zaizen's music mixes were usually completely on the mark. His shoulders twitched in reaction to the slight, unexpected pull on his hair. “... didn't mean to get all gripe-y at you, by the way. Was just thinking.”
Almost dozing off under the slow movements, Akaya was drawn back awake by the criticism of his hair care. Pouting, although Zaizen likely couldn't see it from their current position, Akaya snaked his arms more around his friend’s torso in what was intended as protest but probably felt more like clingyness. “I take super normal care of it. Usin’ conditioner and gettin’ it cut by an actual professional like a normal person.”
It was kind of cute. Almost. To more feel than see Akaya react to him. With a low hum that probably pushed against Akaya’s face, Zaizen said calmly, “You’re allowed to feel things. I don’t have the monopoly on griping in this friendship.”
But Akaya probably had the monopoly on anaconda arms. He waited until Akaya had finished his cuddle clingworm protest to get comfortable in his grip and resume combing through his hair, this time bringing pieces gently up between his fingers for relaxed examination. “Yeah? What shampoo and conditioner do you use?”
Logically Akaya knew that talking stuff through made him feel better, and that Zaizen was a good person to reflect ideas and issues off of. Despite his insistence otherwise, Zaizen was pretty good at dealing with emotions as long as they weren't his own and came from an otherwise known source, apparently. “Yeah,” Akaya mumbled, trying very hard to sound confident. Then, quietly, almost unintelligibly - “Thanks.”
As for the hair thing. It seemed like as good a time as any to feign silence. There's a few moments of pause that hang awkwardly in the air at the question before Akaya realised that there's no way Zaizen would let him get away with that. “I don't… know,” he admitted slowly, aware of the smug response he was probably inviting.
Zaizen did let the silence hang in the air for some time, intentional and punctuational among the flowing movements he played over Kirihara’s hair. Between Akaya’s shy thanks and his reluctant, unearthed admission, he ventured his fingertips down to Akaya’s nape, stroking relief into the muscles with fine circles.
“Mmmm,” he let the calm fermata linger on the air. “You….” after another pause, the words unfurled in their own time, their obstacles somewhat cleared by the small amount of alcohol. “You did good. With the tournament. With the mental game. With everything moving around it. That kind of intensity leaves things in its wake to pick up later.”
And it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. If the loneliness lingered, it would be addressed when Akaya was ready to do so.
“And, well,” Zaizen’s fingers smoothed back up among wild curls. “We can spend a little bit of that prize money on some good hair care for you.”
A brief shudder ran down Akaya’s spine as he felt pressure on the back of his neck. The drone of the TV and the comfortable contact meant that Akaya wanted to stay awake to enjoy the relaxation. It was a rare thing, to have calm moments like this, especially in post-travel cooldown where he usually took to burning energy or sleeping with very little in between. Tilting his head sideways to avoid getting attention on only half his neck, he sighed, but his ears pricked up at the start of Zaizen’s sentence.
Waiting patiently was never a strong point, but Akaya willed himself to just wait as Zaizen considered his words. He wasn’t expecting the careful, quiet encouragement to come from his usually prickly friend, though. Akaya tensed slightly, frozen in shock, blinking rapidly over wide eyes. After a few solid minutes of stuttered processing, Akaya opened his mouth to say something in reply, only to close it again almost immediately. Words failing him wasn’t something he was used to at all.
An inner battle was waged - half of him wanted to stay silent and pretend he didn’t hear anything, while the other half wanted to sit up and make fun of Zaizen for daring to Show An Emotional Response. After a short time, a treaty seemed to be reached. The compromise resulted in Akaya burying his face in Zaizen’s abdomen with a nod and a muffled “Sure, whatever.”
Smooth and tactful.
The look and stutter of a broken furby looked surprisingly endearing on Akaya. Zaizen’s narrow, relaxed gaze watched the utter fail-to-compute and eventual surrender to hide against his chest. There were plenty of sarcastic or smug comments that could have filled the silence. Instead, he filled it with humming along to the play-through music on the television and sifting through Akaya’s hair at whatever pace pleased him moment to moment while he wondered what hair products and smells might suit his friend.
The flight instinct that had kicked in took a while to subside - the only reason Akaya hadn’t just up and fled was that he refused to do so in his own home, with what was otherwise a rare opportunity for comfort still in front of him. Half-expecting a jibe or any kind of verbalisation from Zaizen, Akaya’s compulsion and accompanying heart rate were not exactly helped by the melodic humming they received instead.
Eventually, though, Akaya uncovered his face. Resolutely looking at the TV and nowhere else, following the action more through Zaizen’s humming than the actual visuals, he finally mustered up the strength to produce words. “If you’re gonna buy me hair stuff, make sure it doesn’t straighten anything,” he said, still a slight bewildered tone in his voice.
Zaizen paused his online shopping and easy humming to take Akaya’s words with first mild confusion, and then amusement. “The curl and volume is good,” he agreed, giving the hair under his fingers an easy ruffle. “Do keep in mind that it’s distinctive. You’re a reject as a secret agent on that basis.”
“I know,” Akaya muttered. “That’s why it’s gotta stay pretty much the same. I ain’t going for subtle or anything.”
Despite it sounding like a complaint, or at the very least a protest, Akaya was starting to feel… better. The fuzziness of the flight response had almost faded completely, leaving a strong sense of contentment in its stead. He was starting to feel worn out, though, the minor crisis he’d experienced having drained him of any remaining energy. And he was so comfortable.
“Not doubting your knowledge or whatever,” he added vaguely. “Just sayin’.”
With a huff that almost sort of resembled a short laugh, Zaizen said, “You couldn’t locate subtle if it followed you around for an entire day flicking you with a spoon.” But the critique was much softened by Zaizen’s slow monotone and the patterns of his fingers along Akaya’s nape.
“Your hair will be similar, just better,” with more shine and strength, less effort to coax his curls here or there.
Akaya was about to formulate some kind of counter to the alleged entire lack of subtlety, but managed to hold himself back considering his current position and the rest of the last month or so still on his mind. It wasn’t important. Being unsubtle was actually fine, anyway. His thoughts were cut off by another small jolt in reaction to the touch on his neck, a sigh as his eyes slid closed.
“Mmkay,” he said, voice laced with oncoming drowsiness. “Don’t think there’s ‘nything wrong with it right now, but mmkay.”
Zaizen made a vague noise, but otherwise didn’t interrupt his steady ministrations. “You wash it too much,” he decided, was part of the reason for the split ends. “Among other things.”
If his increasingly regulated breathing were any indication, it didn’t really seem that Akaya was paying attention. So, naturally, while the seaweed head nodded off, Zaizen nicked the phone from Akaya’s back pocket and performed the ritual swipe as the password.
Easy.
Since Akaya was still logged into Amazon, it was as simple as a few clicks to realize his shopping. And maybe, when the task was done, he would see about taking advantage of the Akaya’s dependable warmth for a catnap of his own.
Had he still retained enough energy to do so, there would have been a question about what “among other things” was supposed to mean, but in his lulled state all Akaya can manage is a hazy sound of acknowledgement that morphed into a sort-of protest as his phone was taken. He was too far gone to really do anything about it, though, and the little part of his mind still awake enough to make a decision reminded him that Zaizen wasn’t the type to do anything genuinely damaging.
So Akaya fell quietly into sleep, blissfully unaware of the Amazon trawling being conducted in his name, but feeling quite comfortable and cared for.
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