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tennis_hellWho: Tokugawa Kazuya and Zaizen Hikaru
What: They have a run-in on the train and are as fantastically awkward as two stone walls can be
When: One day when Tokugawa is on his way back from PT and Zaizen is headed home from practice
Where: On a train
Rating: G
A sea of people churned on the train platform. Zaizen Hikaru ducked into the current moving toward the neatly filed lines of passengers awaiting the next train. Guitar a well-practice weight over his back, Zaizen continued on to the least crowded line; he would hate for his instrument to be crushed.
At least he didn’t have to bring home the cello. As far as he was concerned, that loaner could hang out in the library practice room forever. The musician’s grief over a more traditional semester was interrupted by the sight of a familiar face from the corner of his eyes.
Should a somewhat injured tennis player really be taking the train at this hour?
Probably not, but with the Tokugawa family cars all being used at this time, there's nobody to pick up the somewhat injured tennis player from the hospital. He had to commute back to his home, which was a bit of an inconvenience when one currently had a difficulty in walking. Still, this was not the most painful experience for one Tokugawa Kazuya.
After all, he has given up a huge part of his life in sacrifice for the benefit of other people.
Tokugawa towered over most people waiting at the sides of the railway. Zaizen was not someone he would be able to see in the crowd, but with the guitar case stuck out like a sore thumb, he could not help but look in his direction.
He then gave a nod of acknowledgement. In his head, he said "hello".
Tipping his chin in a shallow, reciprocal nod, Zaizen carved a careful, efficient path through the crowd toward Tokugawa. He stood next to the much taller man and ignored the few people who looked at him for cutting; they could stuff it, he had been in a much better place in his own line.
Zaizen remained silent until the train came and a veritable torrent of passengers poured out, then in. Since getting a seat was downright impossible, he nudged Tokugawa toward a corner between a wall and some backturned seats where he could at least find support. As he stood in front of the tennis player to block others shoving, he ignored him entirely, looking at one of them advertisements.
The silence did not linger. When silence lingered, it usually meant that it was welcome to continue to permeate in the air. This was more of natural silence between the two, and Tokugawa didn't find it to be bothersome in the slightest. Not that he cared what other people thought of him, anyway. He wasn't a particularly insecure person - he was more sacrificial, if anything.
The nudge helped in showing Tokugawa where to do. He planned on just standing, a hand holding tightly to the railing or the handle for standing patrons. Zaizen's idea was definitely much better, and he was grateful for it. This time, he did not want to just let the silence speak for them.
"Thank you," he began. It didn't seem like Zaizen was interested in speaking with him, though, so instead of saying anything else as he intended, he stayed silent.
For someone who was so rowdy online, Zaizen was fairly quiet in person. Rather than not wanting to speak to Tokugawa it was more…
He had no idea what to say to him. Peeking down at his phone, Zaizen wondered if there was any way he could properly get his headphones on like this. Why hadn’t he done it on the platform?
Tokugawa eliminated that dilemma. His thanks had Zaizen peering up -- and then farther up -- to the tennis player’s face. “Have you ever hit your head on a train door?” he asked, partly because he didn’t want to be thanked for basic human consideration and partly because he really wanted to know.
At the question, Tokugawa blinked, mild bewilderment showing in his face. What an odd question to say after he just showed gratitude. Normally, people would have said "you're welcome", but apparently not this guy.
Not that it mattered. Tokugawa barely has an impression made of Zaizen for something like this to change how he sees him. If anything, the comment has helped Tokugawa in the future impression that would be made.
"No," he responded. His brows furrowed slightly because he obviously found the question strange. "If I do ride trains, such as now, I duck my head when I enter."
Tokugawa thought himself to not be stupid.
Zaizen kind of wanted to take a picture of Tokugawa’s surprise, but decided that it was unwise in a train this crowded. “But growing up,” he said slowly, “You weren’t always too tall for a train door, surely.”
The train didn’t exactly have clearance signs. Which might come in handy, as Tokugawa was so tall that his hair was actually close to brushing the ceiling. He supposed that Tokugawa might have started ducking instinctually when his height started to approach that level.
At a deadpan, Zaizen added, “I’m asking in case I experience a growth spurt.”
Zaizen was free to take a photo of Tokugawa; he's posed for various promotional items before but he never truly gained much popularity. His manager would like him to do more, though, and get his name out there more, but it was only truly possible if he was able to win more tournaments and make an impact in the professional tennis world.
It was true, though, that he wasn't as tall as he was now, but he didn't grow that many inches from when he was in high school compared to now - just two or three inches at best. He's always been tall. In fact—
"I've always been tall," Tokugawa said. "My family members are all tall, as well." However, his older sister's slightly shorter than he is. He's the tallest among the two siblings and is almost taller than his own father.
Then, Tokugawa looked at Zaizen and eyed him from head to toe or as much as he can see of Zaizen, anyway. He analysed how old the boy was. He couldn't be that much younger than he was, he concluded.
"Have you never experienced your growth spurt?" he asked. He should have already had it.
The height history of the Tokugawa family, revealed. It was kind of amusing to think about, an incredibly tall family wandering around together. And then the focus was on him; the close quarters of the train made for an all too intimate examination, but Zaizen continued to stare flatly at the much taller boy, even when the train lurching forced him to recalibrate his balance. “I’m hoping for a sequel,” he drawled, narrow eyes squinting up at Tokugawa. “But the original didn’t get good reviews.”
What a way to describe one's growth spurt… no matter, the guy is probably bitter. Then again, Tokugawa's been there. He's always had a negative view in life. One could even say he was emo with the way his thoughts worked. The proof of living, how he didn't want people to tell him sweet words because they meant nothing… Tokugawa would have phrased things the same way before.
But not anymore. He was a lot better now, but he was still as straight-faced as ever.
"Make sure you drink your milk," he told Zaizen. It wasn't the best advice, but milk always helped. It was also delicious.
Zaizen didn’t care about height. Not really, except in the current rare circumstances of standing next to an actual giant or anytime he looked at his kouhai, Tooyama Kintarou. Having Kin grow more than him was downright unfair; the universe clearly had a glitch, which had nothing to do with milk consumption.
“Okay, Tokugawa-san,” Zaizen said, when he really meant I will stare at Shiraishi until he buys me a matcha ice cream. “You should consider Hokkaido Milk Company for sponsorship, when you return to play.”
Unbidden, the image of Tokugawa in a cow onesie came to mind. Zaizen bit his lip and looked at the train stops, as if considering his stop instead of trying not to smile.
Tokugawa was totally clueless as to what was happening in Zaizen's headspace, but he does notice that small movement of his lip. He has done that many times before—trying not to smile—it almost always never worked.
But he tries not to pay attention to it lest he want to embarrass the younger man.
"I'll let my manager decide who sponsors me," he said. Not that he has no hand in it, of course, but the Hokkaido Milk Company's logo on his clothes would seem a bit weird. He'd prefer sports-related brands than anything.
That was probably just as well for everyone involved. Zaizen nodded minutely, expression evening out as he finally managed to push that image from his mind. Not that Shiraishi in a cow onesie was much better, but he was more used to seeing his senpai in such situations.
“I hope he chooses well,” Zaizen said, looking back at Tokugawa from the map. “Where are you getting off?” because he would most definitely have to move for the tennis player to get anywhere at all.
Tokugawa didn't have to crane his neck that much to be able to see where they were already. Then he responds. "Three stops from this one," he said just as the train slowed down and opened its doors to let passengers in and out. The crowd slowly disperses with the night passing on.
"There aren't that many people on the train by the time I get ot my stop," he added. Then he thought of whether or not he should ask Zaizen where his stop was. It's the polite thing to do, but both of them really were not one for conversation. This conversation was already as awkward…
The taller man hummed, a note leaving his throat, and then. . . "Do you spend time with Hirakoba often?"
So much for small talk!
Zaizen nodded and took a bit more space for himself now that it was available. His guitar would survive the rest of the journey, which really wasn’t much farther than Tokugawa; they got off the same place, but he had another train to catch to Saitama.
“...”
For a few seconds he stared at Tokugawa, blinking once or twice to show that he was alive because his deadpan expression didn’t offer much reassurance. “I think you spend more time with Satan than I do,” he said, point blank. “But I did sabotage his crepe the other day.”
There it was again - the term of disdain, but Zaizen didn't seem to vehemently dislike Hirakoba. He must like him, if that's the case. Or at least tolerate him enough that they actually eat crepes together.
Tokugawa let out a hum of acknowledgement. He did hear about the crepes, or at least got a clue from it from the post he made on Dreamwidth… these people are so rambunctious. He never had that much energy even when he was a child.
"I've only met him once," Tokugawa finally said to add to the conversation. He was pretty sure (or at least, he hoped he was correct) that Zaizen has met Hirakoba more than once.
Hirakoba’s hooks were shallower than he had assumed.
“Twice now, for me,” Zaizen’s sharp eyes peered up, narrowing directly on Tokugawa. Bragging about their encounters with Satan made this feel like some kind of devil-fighting anime. “I’m your senpai in exorcist school,” he said, seemingly apropos of nothing as the train announced their stop.
Was that supposed to be an attempt at humour? Tokugawa's expression remains unchanged, still as stern as ever. He could scare off people with how emotionless he looks. Instead of commenting on what Zaizen said, he made a slight movement of his whole body to ready it for getting off the train.
It's once they're out that he finally said something about it.
"I'm not attending it."
Quite unperturbed by Tokugawa’s deadpan, Zaizen met the expression with his own and moved quietly when they arrived at their stop. Tokugawa’s duck was as practiced as he had advertised. Although Zaizen seemed just as happy to let the comment die, when they were about to part ways, Tokugawa spoke.
Zaizen readjusted the strap on his guitar case and replied flatly, “Good. Continue to tell the public that.”
No good exorcist would simply give themselves away.
“You should take a taxi next time, Tokugawa-san, it will be safer for you,” And, just like that, Zaizen turned to walk up the stairs to catch his next train, the vague lift of his hand a very no-frills goodbye.
Tokugawa would have replied, but as soon as he was about to turn, mouth slightly open with a response ready, Zaizen was already walking up the stairs. He knew an exit when he saw one, and should they ever cross paths again, then Tokugawa will just be as cordial as he was during the train ride.
The younger man was right, though - he should take a taxi next time.
What: They have a run-in on the train and are as fantastically awkward as two stone walls can be
When: One day when Tokugawa is on his way back from PT and Zaizen is headed home from practice
Where: On a train
Rating: G
A sea of people churned on the train platform. Zaizen Hikaru ducked into the current moving toward the neatly filed lines of passengers awaiting the next train. Guitar a well-practice weight over his back, Zaizen continued on to the least crowded line; he would hate for his instrument to be crushed.
At least he didn’t have to bring home the cello. As far as he was concerned, that loaner could hang out in the library practice room forever. The musician’s grief over a more traditional semester was interrupted by the sight of a familiar face from the corner of his eyes.
Should a somewhat injured tennis player really be taking the train at this hour?
Probably not, but with the Tokugawa family cars all being used at this time, there's nobody to pick up the somewhat injured tennis player from the hospital. He had to commute back to his home, which was a bit of an inconvenience when one currently had a difficulty in walking. Still, this was not the most painful experience for one Tokugawa Kazuya.
After all, he has given up a huge part of his life in sacrifice for the benefit of other people.
Tokugawa towered over most people waiting at the sides of the railway. Zaizen was not someone he would be able to see in the crowd, but with the guitar case stuck out like a sore thumb, he could not help but look in his direction.
He then gave a nod of acknowledgement. In his head, he said "hello".
Tipping his chin in a shallow, reciprocal nod, Zaizen carved a careful, efficient path through the crowd toward Tokugawa. He stood next to the much taller man and ignored the few people who looked at him for cutting; they could stuff it, he had been in a much better place in his own line.
Zaizen remained silent until the train came and a veritable torrent of passengers poured out, then in. Since getting a seat was downright impossible, he nudged Tokugawa toward a corner between a wall and some backturned seats where he could at least find support. As he stood in front of the tennis player to block others shoving, he ignored him entirely, looking at one of them advertisements.
The silence did not linger. When silence lingered, it usually meant that it was welcome to continue to permeate in the air. This was more of natural silence between the two, and Tokugawa didn't find it to be bothersome in the slightest. Not that he cared what other people thought of him, anyway. He wasn't a particularly insecure person - he was more sacrificial, if anything.
The nudge helped in showing Tokugawa where to do. He planned on just standing, a hand holding tightly to the railing or the handle for standing patrons. Zaizen's idea was definitely much better, and he was grateful for it. This time, he did not want to just let the silence speak for them.
"Thank you," he began. It didn't seem like Zaizen was interested in speaking with him, though, so instead of saying anything else as he intended, he stayed silent.
For someone who was so rowdy online, Zaizen was fairly quiet in person. Rather than not wanting to speak to Tokugawa it was more…
He had no idea what to say to him. Peeking down at his phone, Zaizen wondered if there was any way he could properly get his headphones on like this. Why hadn’t he done it on the platform?
Tokugawa eliminated that dilemma. His thanks had Zaizen peering up -- and then farther up -- to the tennis player’s face. “Have you ever hit your head on a train door?” he asked, partly because he didn’t want to be thanked for basic human consideration and partly because he really wanted to know.
At the question, Tokugawa blinked, mild bewilderment showing in his face. What an odd question to say after he just showed gratitude. Normally, people would have said "you're welcome", but apparently not this guy.
Not that it mattered. Tokugawa barely has an impression made of Zaizen for something like this to change how he sees him. If anything, the comment has helped Tokugawa in the future impression that would be made.
"No," he responded. His brows furrowed slightly because he obviously found the question strange. "If I do ride trains, such as now, I duck my head when I enter."
Tokugawa thought himself to not be stupid.
Zaizen kind of wanted to take a picture of Tokugawa’s surprise, but decided that it was unwise in a train this crowded. “But growing up,” he said slowly, “You weren’t always too tall for a train door, surely.”
The train didn’t exactly have clearance signs. Which might come in handy, as Tokugawa was so tall that his hair was actually close to brushing the ceiling. He supposed that Tokugawa might have started ducking instinctually when his height started to approach that level.
At a deadpan, Zaizen added, “I’m asking in case I experience a growth spurt.”
Zaizen was free to take a photo of Tokugawa; he's posed for various promotional items before but he never truly gained much popularity. His manager would like him to do more, though, and get his name out there more, but it was only truly possible if he was able to win more tournaments and make an impact in the professional tennis world.
It was true, though, that he wasn't as tall as he was now, but he didn't grow that many inches from when he was in high school compared to now - just two or three inches at best. He's always been tall. In fact—
"I've always been tall," Tokugawa said. "My family members are all tall, as well." However, his older sister's slightly shorter than he is. He's the tallest among the two siblings and is almost taller than his own father.
Then, Tokugawa looked at Zaizen and eyed him from head to toe or as much as he can see of Zaizen, anyway. He analysed how old the boy was. He couldn't be that much younger than he was, he concluded.
"Have you never experienced your growth spurt?" he asked. He should have already had it.
The height history of the Tokugawa family, revealed. It was kind of amusing to think about, an incredibly tall family wandering around together. And then the focus was on him; the close quarters of the train made for an all too intimate examination, but Zaizen continued to stare flatly at the much taller boy, even when the train lurching forced him to recalibrate his balance. “I’m hoping for a sequel,” he drawled, narrow eyes squinting up at Tokugawa. “But the original didn’t get good reviews.”
What a way to describe one's growth spurt… no matter, the guy is probably bitter. Then again, Tokugawa's been there. He's always had a negative view in life. One could even say he was emo with the way his thoughts worked. The proof of living, how he didn't want people to tell him sweet words because they meant nothing… Tokugawa would have phrased things the same way before.
But not anymore. He was a lot better now, but he was still as straight-faced as ever.
"Make sure you drink your milk," he told Zaizen. It wasn't the best advice, but milk always helped. It was also delicious.
Zaizen didn’t care about height. Not really, except in the current rare circumstances of standing next to an actual giant or anytime he looked at his kouhai, Tooyama Kintarou. Having Kin grow more than him was downright unfair; the universe clearly had a glitch, which had nothing to do with milk consumption.
“Okay, Tokugawa-san,” Zaizen said, when he really meant I will stare at Shiraishi until he buys me a matcha ice cream. “You should consider Hokkaido Milk Company for sponsorship, when you return to play.”
Unbidden, the image of Tokugawa in a cow onesie came to mind. Zaizen bit his lip and looked at the train stops, as if considering his stop instead of trying not to smile.
Tokugawa was totally clueless as to what was happening in Zaizen's headspace, but he does notice that small movement of his lip. He has done that many times before—trying not to smile—it almost always never worked.
But he tries not to pay attention to it lest he want to embarrass the younger man.
"I'll let my manager decide who sponsors me," he said. Not that he has no hand in it, of course, but the Hokkaido Milk Company's logo on his clothes would seem a bit weird. He'd prefer sports-related brands than anything.
That was probably just as well for everyone involved. Zaizen nodded minutely, expression evening out as he finally managed to push that image from his mind. Not that Shiraishi in a cow onesie was much better, but he was more used to seeing his senpai in such situations.
“I hope he chooses well,” Zaizen said, looking back at Tokugawa from the map. “Where are you getting off?” because he would most definitely have to move for the tennis player to get anywhere at all.
Tokugawa didn't have to crane his neck that much to be able to see where they were already. Then he responds. "Three stops from this one," he said just as the train slowed down and opened its doors to let passengers in and out. The crowd slowly disperses with the night passing on.
"There aren't that many people on the train by the time I get ot my stop," he added. Then he thought of whether or not he should ask Zaizen where his stop was. It's the polite thing to do, but both of them really were not one for conversation. This conversation was already as awkward…
The taller man hummed, a note leaving his throat, and then. . . "Do you spend time with Hirakoba often?"
So much for small talk!
Zaizen nodded and took a bit more space for himself now that it was available. His guitar would survive the rest of the journey, which really wasn’t much farther than Tokugawa; they got off the same place, but he had another train to catch to Saitama.
“...”
For a few seconds he stared at Tokugawa, blinking once or twice to show that he was alive because his deadpan expression didn’t offer much reassurance. “I think you spend more time with Satan than I do,” he said, point blank. “But I did sabotage his crepe the other day.”
There it was again - the term of disdain, but Zaizen didn't seem to vehemently dislike Hirakoba. He must like him, if that's the case. Or at least tolerate him enough that they actually eat crepes together.
Tokugawa let out a hum of acknowledgement. He did hear about the crepes, or at least got a clue from it from the post he made on Dreamwidth… these people are so rambunctious. He never had that much energy even when he was a child.
"I've only met him once," Tokugawa finally said to add to the conversation. He was pretty sure (or at least, he hoped he was correct) that Zaizen has met Hirakoba more than once.
Hirakoba’s hooks were shallower than he had assumed.
“Twice now, for me,” Zaizen’s sharp eyes peered up, narrowing directly on Tokugawa. Bragging about their encounters with Satan made this feel like some kind of devil-fighting anime. “I’m your senpai in exorcist school,” he said, seemingly apropos of nothing as the train announced their stop.
Was that supposed to be an attempt at humour? Tokugawa's expression remains unchanged, still as stern as ever. He could scare off people with how emotionless he looks. Instead of commenting on what Zaizen said, he made a slight movement of his whole body to ready it for getting off the train.
It's once they're out that he finally said something about it.
"I'm not attending it."
Quite unperturbed by Tokugawa’s deadpan, Zaizen met the expression with his own and moved quietly when they arrived at their stop. Tokugawa’s duck was as practiced as he had advertised. Although Zaizen seemed just as happy to let the comment die, when they were about to part ways, Tokugawa spoke.
Zaizen readjusted the strap on his guitar case and replied flatly, “Good. Continue to tell the public that.”
No good exorcist would simply give themselves away.
“You should take a taxi next time, Tokugawa-san, it will be safer for you,” And, just like that, Zaizen turned to walk up the stairs to catch his next train, the vague lift of his hand a very no-frills goodbye.
Tokugawa would have replied, but as soon as he was about to turn, mouth slightly open with a response ready, Zaizen was already walking up the stairs. He knew an exit when he saw one, and should they ever cross paths again, then Tokugawa will just be as cordial as he was during the train ride.
The younger man was right, though - he should take a taxi next time.
