RP Log

[xyzai]

Who: Shiraishi Kuranosuke and Zaizen Hikaru
When: Way backdated to break, just after everyone got together to play doubles matches
What: Zaizen and Shiraishi chat by the water about tennis and feelings
Rating: PG



Shiraishi was actually really glad that Zaizen saw through him most of the time. Usually he attempted to keep his feelings and thoughts at check, but he had many people who could read him like an open book. It made him feel safe, he needed to admit. It wasn’t like in middle school where he carried his own burdens for the most of the part.

It had been a very exhausting day, but now that it was over, Shiraishi was glad he’s able to relax with Zaizen afterwards. The anxiety he had been carrying was still present, so counterattacking it with things that helped him calm down was a good idea.

First stop is a conbini nearby a river, to get the promised drinks to loosen up. “I’ll buy yours too. What do you want?”

Zaizen, the salty son of a bitch, kept an eye on his perfectionist former captain throughout the matches. Although there wasn’t much he could do to counter Shiraishi’s feelings, he stayed relatively close as unassuming company that didn’t really require any stress or energy from Shiraishi.

“I’ll have a chuhai,” he said, adjusting his bag as they approached the store near Kawaguchi. When the store, the upbeat jingle had him alert enough to peer around to the register. “And a red bean bun.”

Because Shiraishi probably wouldn’t mind spoiling him.

Shiraishi chuckles, as he walks further into the conbini, making his way to the alcoholic beverages. Judging what he knows about Zaizen, he chooses a chuhai flavor and picks himself an umeshu. On his way to the register he picks himself a health snack along the way. If Zaizen had something to eat, he should have something too.

Once he’s done, he hands over the warm red bean bun and drink. “Here.”

When handed the warm heavenly bun, Zaizen all but curled around it. He had to sweat instead of watch and take pictures, so the least he could do for himself was induce a sugar coma.

He took the bag with the drink, too, and nodded in thanks. “Over that way okay?” he asked, going with the direction the brisk breeze seemed inclined to push them.

Seeing the look on Zaizen’s face makes Shiraishi smile. The boy didn’t express happiness, but it was clear he’s happy about the bun. A little spoiling never hurt anyone. Especially with friends who were like a second family.

Shiraishi nods as they start walking towards the direction Zaizen pointed out. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, feeling somewhat nostalgic over the notion and sighing.

Zaizen walked quietly with his prize, but halted his red bean worship to offer Shiraishi a raised brow, “you look like you’re ready to throw that in the river.”

“I wouldn’t want to litter”, Shiraishi replied with a shrug. “I guess I’m more bitter towards tennis than I thought I was. Which is funny, considering how into it I was.” Of course he could be mixing bitterness and really, really well hidden longing towards something he abandoned.

When they reached the spot, Zaizen plopped bonelessly down on the cool grass. He was going to be sore tomorrow.

Shiraishi’s case seemed difficult. For all his former captain was now made anxious and bitter at the thought of tennis, he was still drawn to it.

“If that’s the case...” Zaizen drawled, his accent in full swing as he popped the tan on his chuhai, “maybe you can only take it out on tennis.”

For all the feelings, Shiraishi seemed to have understood himself better through play.

Shiraishi sat down next to Zaizen, crossing his legs as he did and dropping the bag next to him. He opened his can and took a sip before looking thoughtfully at his friend.

“Take it out on tennis, huh… now that I think about, whenever I was troubled, I used to just practice until I felt easier.” Was that really the answer this time as well? Play until he understood what his standing was against tennis?

“It might not be a bad idea.”

Zaizen took a bite of his red bean bun and contained a little wriggle on the grass; the hot food sent a pleasant tingle of warmth down through his extremities.

“You can figure it out on your own terms. A relaxed game with nothing on the outcome, or just hitting the ball yourself.”

And even if after that the answer was that Shiraishi didn’t want to play, well, or was an answer better than teetering on the edge of confusion.

Shiraishi took a moment and just drank some more from the can and watched the river. The sound of water was calming as always and he felt safe.

“I think if I’m going to play tennis, I’ll want to do it with someone rather than by myself.” It wouldn’t feel like he’d be able to get a good feel of the answer he was looking for. “Just a game every now and then. Not even necessarily counting points. I need to see if the spark is gone or if I’m just denying its existence.”

Zaizen washed down the delicious red bean bun with another pull from his equally sweet chuhai. He was quiet, letting Shiraishi’s words wash over him like the wind touseling their hair. Having never felt that particular spark for tennis, he could only imagine how those dormant feelings broiled under the surface.

“Okay,” Zaizen said eventually. “I’ll play.”

Neither score nor outcome particularly mattered to Zaizen, although he knew once he was on the court he would try to read the patterns of play. “Probably other people will too.” From his post and from today’s game, Shiraishi probably had a decent idea who would make good companions for such a purpose.

It’s little surprising to hear Zaizen offer tennis company, but it makes him smile. He knew Zaizen was never big on tennis, so it felt somehow special. Nostalgic, even.

“Thank you. Let’s give it some time. I’ll likely be sore tomorrow. Kintarous and Akayas shots are even heavier than before.” He knew who else he could potentially talk to about some casual tennis matches. But having Zaizen already agreed to it made him feel very comfortable.

Zaizen glared flatly at Shiraishi over his can, “don’t talk about tomorrow, I’m not ready to think about it.”

One less day of vacation. He reclined down on the grass and poked Shiraishi’s calf with his foot. “I’m happy for them.”

“For Akaya and Kintarou or my calves?” Shiraishi asked with a chuckle. He dropped down on the grass and closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds around him. “Yeah, I’m too.”

“Your calves,” Zaizen huffed softly, a breath that was almost a laugh but not quite. “Didn’t you see Kin and Akaya eying them up?”

A complete lie, but Shiraishi surely knew that.

Shiraishi nodded in a sage-like manner. “Yeah. It wasn’t about me at all. Just my calves.” Two can play this game.

“Tomorrow it’ll be my hips your guys are staring at”, Shiraishi chuckled. Ah, it would be a pain to dance with sore muscles. But he’d manage. It was rather light and relaxing, after all.

Zaizen made a vague noise of agreement. “They only see you as a pair of muscled calves. And then they’ll see you as whatever you plan to do with your hips.”

As a supportive kouhai, he was mostly in on this to embarrass Shiraishi. And because Shiraishi was probably graceful enough to be decent at it, even if Zaizen didn’t much love hip hop.

“It’s called twerking. Hips and butt, both will be moving quite a bit. I think my butt is also in danger of being adored.”

At least with feeling a bit more relaxed, he can joke about it. Shiraishi smiles and opens his eyes before turning to look at his kouhai.

“Hey, Hikaru? Thanks.”

With an amused huff at that mental picture, Zaizen said, “I think the rest of you is in danger of getting pushed in the river.”

The thanks wasn’t really necessary and Zaizen didn’t know how to respond to it. He stretched out in the grass, letting his fingertips brush the soft blades when they reached overhead. “I like chu-hai...and you’re all right.”

“But I’d freeze”, Shiraishi says as a weak protest as he chuckles a little bit more.

It’s rather comfortable, but he tries not to get too relaxed so he won’t doze off. It would be bad if he fell asleep and got a cold. “I’ll buy you a drink anytime.”

“Maybe that’s how I like you,” Zaizen suggested. “Frozen. Maybe with some shocked or terrified expression. I’m sure I could find space in my room for you, however small.”

Shiraishi’s promise put a smirk on Zaizen’s face, which he directed at Shiraishi when he turned just enough to peer at him. “I might take you up on that.”

“Oh. Well, if you’ll keep me, then I won’t mind.”

Shiraishi chuckles, pushing himself up so he’s sitting down. “I’ll be ready. Though if I stay down too long I’m ready for bed.”

Zaizen sighed and finished the dregs of his chu-hai. “I guess I won’t sell you to Akaya for two curry toppings,” he sighed, as if it were some loss. “The statue is too one of a kind.”

Pocketing the empty can, he pushed to his feet and offered Shiraishi a hand. “Come on. I’m so not carrying you back.”

“I’m glad to hear that, master”, Shiraishi said jokingly as he stretched. Then he took the offered hand and got up.

“It would have been good muscle training, you know.”

Zaizen said, “I could get used to master,” and pulled Shiraishi up from the grass. In his opinion, that plus tennis was more than enough muscle training for the day.

“I get enough of that from lugging around my cello,” he drawled, letting go of Shiraishi’s hand once he was stable. “Could try to stuff you into the case.”

“First you freeze me into a statue and then you carry me around in your cello case? I guess my life could lead to worse directions.”

Rolling his eyes, Zaizen prodded his sleepy senpai onto the path back to the apartments. “How else am I supposed to heft your unnecessary tall frozen self around?”

And well, Zaizen thought as he walked close to Shiraishi, the perfectionist really could do worse. “I might let you melt eventually.”

Shiraishi walks forward towards the apartments, enjoying the light breeze on his skin. Then he chuckles, lightly. “That would be sweet of you. Are you sure?”

Following a vague noise that substituted for a shrug, Zaizen said with a smirk, “No. I’ll let you wonder.”

Although that wasn’t much of an answer, he would never let Shiraishi suffer too much by anyone’s hands. Not really.

Shiraishi knows that, definitely. Even if Zaizen was quite rough on the edges, he was also very protective and sweet. That’s how he knew him and was convinced that it was true. But that was usually never discussed out loud. It was too embarrassing.

“Something for me to think on when I’m trying to fall asleep.”

“You’re welcome,” Zaizen drawled, as they left the dimly illuminated river behind them. “For the sweet dreams tonight. And the sore hell we’ll meet in the morning.”

If Shiraishi were lucky, the light alcohol and complete tennis-exhaustion would knock him right out.

One of the only positive things about being so bad with alcohol.

“Just hearing you say that makes my muscles cry in pre-emptive agony.” Especially his hands, considering how heavy hitters their opponents had been. “Show must, however, go on…” Boy they chose a bad day for a tennis day. At least he could make his soreness work into hip hop.

“Have I told you yet, today, that I hate you?” Zaizen asked flatly. “For bringing this upon both of us?”

After the thin line of road, they were back among the well-lit patchwork of shopfronts and human traffic. Music pushed at them here and there from various stores and restaurants, swaddling the prior calm night in layers of chatter.

“Don’t worry, I’m completely onboard the hate train in the morning.” It’s a joke, even if not too far from truth.

Shiraishi’s thoughts trail off while looking at the various colors flashing in a nearby sign. He can’t help, but think he already is on the hate train. For reasons discussed just before, for his aching muscles and the mindset he found himself in. That the pain was welcome for letting himself fall off the path of perfectionism. The familiar feeling of exhausting himself until he was perfect was creeping inside his veins by now.

“I have some good ointment that will help with muscle pains, if you’d like. I use it sometimes when dance practice gets too intense.”

Zaizen nudged Shiraishi with his shoulder and muttered, “Well, get off at the next stop.”

Thinking about tomorrow, Zaizen flexed his fingers thoughtfully. He had worn gloves to protect his hands -- his livelihood -- and as long as those were fine, he could probably deal with whatever tomorrow brought. “The soreness will be fine,” he admitted to mostly complaining for the sake of it. “I was more concerned about breaking a nail.”

“I will. It’s not a train ride I’m comfortable with”, Shiraishi said with a shrug. It’s not like he wants to worry Zaizen, so he’d rather lie his way through this and somehow, he finds it easier to lie when he has had some alcohol. He gets caught less likely. “I’ve never been known to hate myself.”

Shiraishi nodded. “I’m glad you didn’t break a nail or anything else on your hands.”

Zaizen’s eyes lingered on Shiraishi, who wasn’t nearly as sly as he thought he was, with his not-quite-denial statements and paper facade. He didn’t buy it, not at all, but it was something he could bother his senpai about when he had more evidence, sleep, and a clear shot at actually getting anywhere with the elusive blond.

“There’s still my train ride back, but I think it will be without incident,” at least, aside from the dim tangle of his thoughts. Even with his clever fingers, it would take some time to unravel and determine an approach. Maybe his advice hadn’t been the best, but it was a place to start, and he would do his best to see his former senpai, now friend, through it.

At times like this, he really missed Kenya.

He waved Shiraishi off when they reached the street near Basil. He was fine to continue back to the train station alone. “Try to sleep. I’ll see you at your dancing tomorrow.”