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Rukawa calls him the day he comes back from Hiroshima. Sendoh knows this only because the Shohoku ace tells him over the unexpected phone call to his dorm.
“Can we meet?” He asks, and Sendoh finds himself agreeing, staring down at the fishing gear at his feet that he had just spent the past fifteen minutes retrieving from under his bed with just a tinge of regret. “I’m at my dorm. Give me half an hour and I’ll meet you at the usual spot?”
But the Shohoku first year throws out his suggestion immediately. “I’ll come to you,” he only says, and hangs up before Sendoh can ask how he knows his number, and where his dorm is. It has never come up in their conversations, so Sendoh can only assume that the first year had bumped into one of his teammates and asked, as unlikely as that situation seemed in his head.
He ends up pacing around in front of the entrance to Ryonan’s male dormitory, realising only then that the Shohoku ace had not given him any indication of what time he would arrive, nor the reason for their spontaneous meeting. Surely there wasn’t anything so urgent it couldn’t wait, he thought, wondering if he should have just politely declined. Besides, if they weren’t going to play basketball, then what were they supposed to do? Every student had their own private room in the Ryonan dorms, but that luxury came at the expense of extremely limited living space and shared bathrooms on every floor. It had taken Sendoh close to half a year before he finally stopped bumping his head on the shelf above his study desk every time he took a break from his homework and stretched, and there was virtually no space for storage, let alone guests.
But the real reason for the lack of living space came from his recent acquisition of a TV and video cassette player over the summer break, which he had had to move all his fishing gear and training weights from the little corner between the foot of his bed and the wall opposite to under his bed to make space for.
Hikoichi had somehow miraculously amassed all the tapes from the nationals and had been bugging them to study those as a team. They had gone over the Toyotama game together at the start of practice one day at Hikoichi’s insistence, but somehow Sendoh found himself hesitating when it came to watching the Sannoh match.
“We should just practice more,” he says when asked, and Coach Taoka’s eyes had misted over, thinking that their ace was finally, finally stepping into the role as captain. No one noticed that Sendoh had secretly pocketed the tape and brought it back to his dorm room.
Rukawa had played well against Sannoh. The whole of Shohoku, Sendoh had to admit when he watched the tape in his room, surpassed his expectations. But it was Sawakita’s expressions that surprised Sendoh the most. He had played the guy before in middle school and the Sannoh ace seemed not to have changed in the slightest - still cocky, confident, a crybaby off the courts, but the way he looked at Rukawa made something uncomfortable stir in Sendoh’s chest. Sawakita had taunted the first year who challenged him openly and proceeded to destroy him on the court in the second half of the game. Rukawa had made a comeback later on, assisting his teammates to score, and it had not gone unnoticed to Sendoh how that only served to light a fire in Sawakita’s eyes that had not subsided at the end of the match but on the contrary, burned even brighter…
He shakes his head, willing himself to focus on the present. A few minutes later, Rukawa appears, duffel hanging over one shoulder.
“Good work at the nationals,” Sendoh greets him first, courteous as usual.
“Hn,” the Shohoku ace just says in response.
There was something different about Rukawa today. If he looked effortlessly good everyday than today he was definitely out to make a point, his usual sportswear replaced by a simple button-down cream shirt that hugged his lean, muscular frame. The first few buttons were casually undone, and the long sleeves were rolled up so that they exposed his toned forearms.
It might have just looked to the average person that he had put in more effort in his dressing, but Sendoh, who had seen that kind of transformation more than enough times in the people around him at school, knew better. It represented an awakening of a different sort, one that was more… physical in nature. And it was natural, especially for people their age, but it felt awkward that he had to be a witness to this change in someone like Rukawa, who Sendoh had always only associated in his mind with basketball. He even ignores all of his fangirls, Sendoh recalls, so why? He thought of the tape of the match of Shohoku versus Sannoh he had watched, remembering Sawakita’s blatant stares and smirks, and something in his mind clicked.
“Say, Rukawa, are you…?”
Rukawa turns to stare at him questioningly, and Sendoh notices for the first time how long his eyelashes are.
“Never mind,” he says, swallowing the sudden lump that had formed in his throat.
“Sawakita,” the boy says, out of nowhere, confirming his worst fears.
Sendoh blinks, wondering if the Shohoku ace had suddenly developed mind reading abilities. When he notices the silence has stretched out for too long, he manages to say. “I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s Sawakita, not Kitasawa.” Rukawa only says, neither denying or confirming the unspoken question in his head.
Sendoh would readily admit to not having the best memory for names, or faces. But when the Shohoku first year had pressed him for a name at the end of their one-on-one session, he had known the moment the Sannoh player’s name left his lips that he had gotten it wrong. He had wanted to correct it then, but seeing the serious look on the Shohoku’s ace face - unintended for him, a voice at the back of his head reminded himself unhelpfully - as he contemplated Sendoh’s words made him hold his tongue. It didn’t matter if he had the wrong name. The Shohoku first year would figure it out in due time, he told himself.
“Did… something happen between you and… Sawakita?” He tries again now, wondering if it would be less awkward to pretend he still thought of the Sannoh player as Kitasawa even though the name on the back of that white and black jersey is practically burned into his memory forever given the number of times he has rewatched the match in the past two weeks. This conversation was going all wrong, and the part of him concerned with social niceties is practically yelling at him at this point, but Sendoh ignores it because now that the first year ace is in front of him and not a figure in a tape that Sendoh has been replaying for far too many times, Sendoh wants answers.
When Rukawa casts his eyes downward and does not reply, Sendoh feels something bubble over in his stomach. Something that makes him follow when the Shohoku first year steps past him into the dorm, uninvited, and lead him down the corridor to his room.
If the first year Shohoku player is bothered by the complete lack of space in Sendoh’s cramped dorm room, he does not say anything, only deftly avoiding the fishing poles on the ground and searching for a spot to put down his bag. He ends up choosing the space at the foot of Sendoh’s bed, and accidentally places an edge of his duffel directly on the TV remote, causing the screen to turn on and display the match Sendoh now remembers he turned on for ambient noise as he put his fishing gear together. As his luck would have it, it is the part where Sawakita mouths something at Rukawa before he begins his attack that would cost Shohoku nearly 20 points in the next few minutes.
Sendoh thinks it’s a miracle he has not died from mortification yet.
He can’t tell what the Shohoku ace is thinking as he stares at the players on the screen. The silence might be normal for Rukawa but it just makes Sendoh all the more uncomfortable, like the Shohoku ace had suddenly gained access to a very private part of Sendoh’s thoughts.
Now what? He thinks to himself as he snatches up the remote from the ground and jabs the off button. The sound from the TV disappears and is replaced by a growing sense of silent dread. He ought to say something, but the lack of distance in the stuffy room and the fact that Rukawa is now staring at him with narrowed eyes makes him back away, losing his balance and feeling the coils of the cheap dorm mattress digging painfully in his back.
When he looks up again, the face of Rukawa Kaede seems to have magnified itself a few times and it is then that Sendoh realises the first year ace is straddling him on his own bed.
Rukawa speaks then, and his voice is lower than Sendoh remembers. It makes him shudder. “Is that what it will take for you to take me seriously?”
For the first time in his life, Sendoh is dumbfounded.
“What are you talking about?” He croaks.
The younger boy just regards him with a cross expression. “Do I have to sleep with Sawakita for you to want me?”
Wait.
Hang on.
Is this for real?
Sendoh wants to gape. What the hell happened in Hiroshima, he thinks, that the boy who only ever had basketball on his mind, was asking him these questions without so much as a blush?
Sendoh finds that his hands, which are still limply at his side due to shock are slightly shaking.
“Why are you here?” He finally asks. This entire evening was making less and less sense. The appearance of the Shohoku ace had interrupted what Sendoh had planned would be a relaxing evening that was supposed to have had none of this unexplained anxiety he felt at the other’s unexpected transformation, and none of these absurd accusations the first year was now making on his character. Sendoh Akira had no trouble knowing what he wanted. He was not that kind of guy who needed some kind of comparison to drive him to prove himself. No, the first year ace was wrong, and Sendoh really should ask him to leave.
“He was good. Better than I expected, really.”
Sendoh suddenly feels something explode in his chest.
The emotions he had held back for the past two weeks are now running their full course inside him and he is so overwhelmed that he doesn’t realise his fingers are already unbuttoning that cream shirt that ought to be illegal and pushing it off the other’s shoulders.
He takes a moment to study the younger boy’s face. This was the boy who would never admit to losing a competition, Sendoh remembers, who always came back challenging him. It was like losing was not something he could comprehend. It didn’t exist in the younger boy’s dictionary. He was always challenging, and when the challenge had expired he would simply go on to the next one. Sendoh didn’t know why the Shohoku ace had come to him that summer day for a matchup - why the younger boy’s fascination with Sendoh did not end even after their team had beaten his to the nationals. But he did not question it. It excited him, in a way he had never felt playing with the rest of the team at Ryonan.
Come to think of it, even their coaches thought they were rivals. Sendoh, who was not a fan of these types of petty competition, had not given it much thought, but god, what were they doing now? He could have pushed him away - Sendoh was, after all, larger in build. But instead, he had not, and there is a strange heat pooling in his groin at seeing the other shirtless on top of him. Ohh, is that what it is? Sendoh thinks to himself. Sendoh had never thought of himself as being attracted to men before. He liked spending time with his teammates, and even with the other players in Kanagawa. He had bumped into Maki surfing at the Shonan Bay on several occasions while returning from fishing and knew him relatively well. Fukuda on his team knew Jin from middle school so he had even hung out with the both of them before over meals. But spending time with the Shohoku ace felt different. They barely even talked, for one, but for some reason someone as extroverted as him had not found the other’s presence uncomfortable even once.
He had never seen him this up close, but now Sendoh thinks he can understand the appeal the Rukawa Brigade went crazy for. Rukawa Kaede was definitely objectively handsome - his jet black bangs softening his natural arched eyebrows and upturned eyes. His gaze trails down to the other’s mouth, pursed in a tight line. Sendoh inhales, and then makes up his mind and presses his own mouth over it.
Rukawa makes a sound, and Sendoh takes it as a indication to deepen the kiss, his hands busying themselves undoing the other’s trousers at the same time. By the time the first year ace’s face is flushed from both the kissing and the ministrations Sendoh is performing down there, he realises he is not wearing a single piece of clothing.
The disoriented Shohoku ace looks down at Sendoh, takes in the fact that he is still fully clothed in stark contrast to his nakedness. Sendoh just smirks at his self-consciousness. “Why so shy? You’ve done this before already, right?”
“I…”
Not giving him time to respond, he continues to slide his hand up and down the other’s cock, applying extra pressure to the spot which when he had touched earlier, rewarded him with younger boy’s first grunt of pleasure. This time Rukawa grips down hard on his shoulders, and Sendoh understands instinctively what he wants. He continues to pump him at a moderate, rhythmical pace, and the boy’s short breaths soon turn into whimpers, before a shudder wrecks through his entire body and he releases into Sendoh’s waiting hand.
He missed nothing - from the boy’s earlier confusion to the way his body reacted in the most honest fashion to Sendoh’s ministrations, everything pointed to the fact that Rukawa Kaede was still a complete novice. And it ought to put him off, because Sendoh Akira was, if he could say so himself, rather experienced when it came to these matters. But instead he is nursing a frankly quite painful erection of his own.
And the cause of it is now staring openly at the bulge in his pants. Curious, very naively so.
Their eyes meet, and Sendoh realises he is, for some reason, breathing hard. The scent from the other is too inviting, and he kind of wants to just flip him over and thrust repetitively into him to relieve himself from the persistent ache in his own cock, and not worry about the consequences.
“Get up,” he says suddenly and the boy looks at him, startled. “The bed is too small and too uncomfortable.” He looks around and spots his desk. It would have to do, he thinks, grabbing the tube of hand moisturiser sitting on his bedside table before dragging the boy by the arm to stand in front of the desk and positioning himself behind.
He flicks the cap of the tube open before squeezing a generous amount onto his palm.
“If you mention his name again from now on,” he says, struggling to keep his voice even, “I’m going to make you pass out.” Before giving the other a chance to answer he has inserted two fingers in his rear, and the younger boy gasps in pain.
It was too late. He was too late, Sendoh thinks, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Why had it taken him so long to figure out that the unnamed emotion he had been feeling for the past few weeks in the other’s absence had been possessiveness? It should not be like this. Sendoh should have asked him out to dinner. Maybe a movie. And then confessed to him and stolen a kiss while the other contemplated how he would respond. It would have been perfect. But instead he had let someone else get ahead and was now just another participant in the Shohoku ace’s sexual awakening.
Just then, the phone on his desk rings loudly.
They both stop to stare at it.
With his fingers still buried inside the other, Sendoh picks up the receiver with his free hand.
“Hello?”
“Is this Sendoh Akira’s residence?”
“Yes, this is him.”
“It’s Sawakita Eiji.”
“…”
“…”
“You asshole, don’t tell me you don’t know who I am?” The caller sounds a bit agitated now.
He senses Rukawa trying his best to relax against his fingers, but when Sendoh probes further inside experimentally, the first year lets out a panicked cry, and the caller seems to pick up on something.
The tone over the line turns accusatory. “Is he with you right now? Goddamnit. You lucky bastard. I hate you. Sendoh you idiot! Why did I waste my money calling you only to make myself feel worse?”
His voice is now an entire pitch higher than before.
“Are you crying?” Sendoh asks, exasperated.
“I’m just homesick, you idiot. It’s not because that stupid brat rejected me…” Sawakita practically yells, and Sendoh can picture him glaring through his tears, his words punctuated by sniffles. “Why the fuck do they put ketchup on everything here?”
“Wait. What did you say?”
“I said, the food here sucks.”
“No, before that.”
“Before that? Oh yeah. That Shohoku first year. He wouldn’t let me touch him. I asked, so nicely, too. Even mentioned that it might help him with you. But he still said no. Such a waste of that pretty face, being so uptight about everything. There are so many more ways to have fun in life - “
Sendoh tunes out everything after getting his answer and soon Sawakita stops, muttering about how he was no fun either.
“Well I gotta go back to practice. Thought I would just say hi since it’s been what - two years? Three? Whatever. Send him my regards too. Tell him to call me if he changes his mind.”
“Uh, yeah, sure… see you, yeah. Bye.” Sendoh says, swearing to himself that passing on that message would be the last thing he would ever do.
There is silence after he places down the receiver. His brain feels like it is about to explode with questions. Like he had guessed, Sawakita had propositioned Rukawa, but the Sannoh ace had told him clearly over the phone that he had turned him down. Yet Rukawa was cryptic when it came to answering Sendoh’s questions about the Sannoh ace, like he somehow wanted Sendoh to think that there was something going on between them. But… why?
The first year ace was quiet, and his face never displayed much emotion. But there was a moment Sendoh remembers in the tape of the game where he thought he saw something flash across the other’s eyes. He thought back to Sawakita’s words. Even mentioned that it might help him with you…
He extracts his fingers hurriedly and spins the other around to face him.
“That was Sawakita on the line,” he says and then pauses expectantly for an explanation. Rukawa only stares hard at the ground.
After a long while, he speaks and his voice is so soft Sendoh has to strain to hear him.
“He asked. Said we should, for… for the memories. When I told him no and mentioned you, he said I should give it up. Said you’re not the sort to get serious about anything, or anyone, and that you were too smart to bother with virgins.”
“But you rejected him anyway.”
“I…” The younger boy starts to say, but falls silent, not knowing how he could explain himself.
Sendoh sighs. “I don’t know…” he starts slowly, frowning, “- if I’m going to be able to measure up to whatever standard you are holding me to, Rukawa.”
After a long pause, he hears the first year awkwardly struggling with his words, trying his best to hide his disappointment.
“I understand.”
“So,” Sendoh continues, now looking at the younger boy with all the gentleness he had to offer. “You are going to have to tell me. Whatever it is - whatever you want from me - you have to tell me clearly.”
He reaches out and pulls the shocked first year ace into an embrace. “But you weren’t wrong to reject him.” He adds quickly, just in case that doubt still lingered in the other’s mind. “I guarantee you that if nothing else, I fuck better than Sawakita Eiji.”
=======
The younger boy has to hold on to the bookshelf above his desk for support as Sendoh enters him from behind. It isn’t perhaps the most romantic position for a first time, Sendoh notes a little regretfully, but the younger boy seemed to enjoy it anyway after he whispers a little wickedly in his ear that he had never been able to do it in this position with any of his past partners due to the height difference. It was like that confession encouraged the Shohoku ace to move his hips a little more enthusiastically, allowing Sendoh to time his thrusts to drive in a little deeper inside him each time.
Rukawa was quiet even during sex, Sendoh realised quickly, and understood that he would have to put even more effort into getting a verbal reaction out of him. And Sendoh loved a challenge.
“God,” he pants as he changes the angle of his thrusts and watches amusedly as the other reacts by grasping futilely at a pile of books in the overhead shelf, which fall on the table in a noisy clatter. “You’re so tight it’s driving me crazy.”
“Wait… Sendoh…” The younger boy gasps, trying to catch his breath, but a newfound burst of energy from the Ryonan captain knocks him off-balance again right after he steadies himself. Sendoh’s heat pulses inside him, and Rukawa is struck with the strange sensation of floating as a particular powerful thrust makes his limbs turn to jelly. “N-no…” he wants to say, but it comes out as a low, desire-filled moan that Sendoh picks up on immediately.
In a matter of seconds Sendoh has him pressed into the full-length sliding door leading out to his tiny balcony. A piece of curtain covering the transparent glass door shielded the inside of the room from prying eyes, but it had a flimsiness that often made the students in the rooms question if it was really doing its job.
Their upper bodies are directly overlapping one another now and his hands leave either side of Rukawa’s hips to intertwine with Rukawa’s outstretched ones which slip on the smooth flat surface as the younger boy searches desperately for support.
He makes out the tension held in the first year’s shoulders and kisses him between neck and shoulder, sucking down on the pale skin with intention to mark.
Then he leans in to whisper in his ear. “You know, this is the time of day the people in the neighbourhood are out walking their dogs and exercising. What do you say we give them a show?” Before Rukawa can make sense of his words, Sendoh is pounding right into a particular spot inside him from behind like a machine, precise and controlled.
“Ah,” Rukawa moans, not having the time to understand why his body was reacting in this way. He could not comprehend half of what he was experiencing, but when Sendoh reaches over in an attempt to pull the curtain away he panics and grips on to it for dear life, letting Sendoh do whatever else he wants as long as they weren’t exposed to the outside. The thrusts keep coming, harder and faster, and his body shakes uncontrollably at the impact. He has to bite down on his lips to prevent himself from moaning too loudly, but Sendoh, god, Sendoh today seemed bent on not just getting past his defences, but obliterating them entirely.
Sendoh takes hold of his cock again, now fisting it urgently as the slap of the other’s hips against Rukawa’s buttocks becomes so fast that he starts to feel a little dizzy.
He comes with a loud cry, leaving a stark trail of white staining the drab gray curtain. His knees buckle as the orgasm travels through his body, but Sendoh holds him upright and continues to thrust into him for a good few minutes until the older boy, too, achieves release.
Sendoh pulls him into bed after, not really bothering to clean up their mess, and Rukawa’s apprehensive look as the bed springs creak in protest to the combined weight of two basketball players on it makes him add “I’m moving out”.
“But… in the past, how did you…” he trails off, feeling a little awkward. The other had told him to be open with him, but even so it was hard, Rukawa thought, to broach the subject when he wasn’t sure if he would like the answer.
“I used to just pay to use a love hotel.” Sendoh answers honestly. “The nearest one is a few blocks away.”
“…You could have told me.” He protests, thinking back to when the other had told him that the bed was uncomfortable. There was hardly any space to walk in the room, and a blush creeps up his cheeks as he recalls everything they had done in here despite the fact.
“Well, let’s just say I didn’t have a lot of… self control today.” Sendoh doesn’t meet his gaze directly, and if Rukawa listens closely he thinks he can make out a little sheepishness in his tone.
Then, as if recalling something, the older boy asks. “What’s with the shirt you wore today? Was that yours?”
“Oh, that. Sawakita gave it to me… said it was a farewell gift.”
“I see,” Sendoh only says simply, while continuing to play with his hair. Postage be damned, Sendoh thinks to himself, he would definitely have to send Sawakita a care package of Japanese snacks now.