Chapter Text
“Look out!”
The rabid prince bellowed from atop his grassy throne, a fledgling chorus of sled dogs barking alongside him in panic at the drop, bang, and tumble of his stray bokko, the simple pole transforming into a stick of death as it proceeded to trip the whole lot of them firmly to the ground.
A flock of red coated Oinokami gawked around him, paralyzed in shock at the sight of their infant team mates tired, trembling legs giving out under the weight of the massive log held between their sweaty palms, the fault of which causing the heavy burden to roll and crash it’s way down the steep, bumpy hill behind them.
And of course—of course—it had to be him hiking up the slope during this perfect moment of calamity.
Black doll-like eyes burst big and round with surprise, the deep pit of his iris shrinking pin thin and sharp as a cats in fright; if he could Yota Tsunemaru would be hissing at this point, stuck in horror as the thunderous crack of wood hit rock after rock a few feet ahead of him.
Each rolling slam had his body tightening up painfully, pallid and sweaty, the drum of his heart growing louder and angrier alongside the beat of the hulking pillar rampaging ever downward.
Simply put, he was frozen, rooted to the ground as solid as the trees surrounding them.
‘Move, move!’
His body was achy and pale, clammy with sweat and shaky from dehydration, stressed muscles gone even tighter with the strike of mortal dread shivering down his spine, the metaphorical fur on his skin standing up on end as he clung, immobile, crouched low and small in a futile bid at avoiding the inevitable.
‘Why’s it always gotta be me?’ Those were the final dregs, the last thought his brain could muster before the universe decided his face needed to get permanently rearranged.
Pain, pain, pain, the world was all blacks and blues morphing into red, searing hurt bestowed upon him like a curse from the gods—a punishment for his impotence—the brutally firm body of that stupidly oversized bokko bludgeoning him bloody, cracking the bones of his face in less than a second.
Any balance he’d been maintaining was completely destroyed by the weight of the monstrous thing crushing his flesh, torso tilting back to crash violently against the rocky hilltop alongside the crown of his head.
Crunch, his head broke loudly. That was the sound of his skull splitting apart on the ground wasn't it? It had to be, because almost instantly he started to feel cold; and the world went black.
‘Dead,’
‘again…’
And soon, a mothers lullaby:
Sleep, sleep, sleep and when you awake you shall be greeted with pleasant sounds, but beware…
A blessed child seeks out to claim your flesh.
《●》
Rou Shirakawa didn’t often experience the bubbling black pit of guilt but when he did feel it, he really felt it, that icky dark ichor staining his skin in ugly shades of remorse, burdened with repetitive thoughts that have plagued him for weeks—seven to be exact. Ever since the day he’d sent his soon to be teammate and senpai, third year Yota Tsunemaru to the hospital with a broken jaw.
It was an accident, everyone said so, told him over and over not to feel so bad, that everything would work out fine but Rou knew the truth. He’d ruined Tsunemarus’ life.
How awful do you have to be to destroy the final year of a promising young hockey player's high school career?
Well if you wanna know the answer to that you can find Rou Shirakawa lying on the side of the road in backwater Hokkaido waiting to be run over for his sins everyday around 5am.
Dramatic, yes. Deserved, absolutely. At least in his mind. It’s already been more than a month since the incident and in terms of training for nationals that’s an entire lifetime.
Coach Nihei, Kosugi, Dohi and the others keep saying soon; soon Tsunemaru will be all better and be ready to join back up with the team but Rou had his doubts. The eight week mark was fast approaching and according to google-sensei a broken jaw is perfectly capable of mending by then. Of course, it could also take about two more months depending on the severity, which if his memory—traumatic as it is—served him right alongside the frantic roar of Coach Nihei’s truck igniting into action like a bat outta hell, it was pretty goddamn severe.
In fact, Rou had recently learned from Dohi who learned from Kosugi who’d learned from Fuji who learned from that bastard Keichi who heard it from either big Genma or Kengo that Tsunemaru had required surgery to repair the cracks in his jaw. Apparently, his head had been smashed between the rocky terrain and the hefty bokko, resulting in both sides of his mandible cracking apart like an egg under the pressure.
Essentially, Rou had a real hard time believing Tsunemaru was going to be up and ready to rip it on the rink in a week from now.
This was a death blow, worse than the murder of a poor, innocent kitten, at least in Rou’s book. How could he continue on the team once Tsunemaru came back, if he ever did?
Again, those were the evil, icky, black thoughts bubbling around in the pit of his stomach called guilt, a cloud of angst following him all the way to the guillotine as he waddled his way down the rural pathways of Miyamori beside his would-be executioners.
“Do we really have to do this?”
Ugh Keichi, crude as always.
“Yes.”
Rou didn’t understand how Big Genma could put up with him, he could hear the exhaustion clear as day in the elder brothers voice as they continued down their forward march, his own teeth gritting in annoyance at the continued rowdy whining of their little parasite.
“But, why us? It’s all this jackass' fault to begin with!” Keichi pointed accusingly at him, all mean mugged and self righteous, looking to start a fight just to get out of seeing an injured teammate.
Truly, he held no class whatsoever.
“Calm down, calm down now Little Genma, remember we’re here on behalf of coach, he asked us to come along for moral support and that’s what we’re gonna do, it’s what teammates do!”
Kengo was ever the peacekeeper, especially when it came to Keichi. Thank god he was here, truly Rou couldn’t be more grateful for his inclusion in the lineup.
Guess that’s why Nihei’s the best, although he probably wouldn't have been thinking that yesterday evening; not after he’d pulled them all aside and basically commanded them to perform a wellness check on their resident stray cat.
He’d started hearing that term in relation to Tsunemaru a lot. Stray cat. He’d barely met the guy and so he was curious to know how he’d gotten the moniker though he doubted he’d ever have the guts to find out now. The thought of interacting with the 3rd year at all practically sent him into cardiac arrest—so disgraceful.
“The cat should be able to talk by now at least, best go by tomorrow on your day off and give him a proper apology and a check up before the poor thing dies of neglect.”
That’s what Nihei had said.
“Coaches orders.”
And those orders were final no matter how much Keichi complained.
“Yeah but why us?”
He was like a broken record, the scratching of which was just about ready to send Rou into a fit of his own until Kengo, kind, patient Kengo rebutted with an answer constructed by the gods of persuasion themselves.
“Well, to tell you the truth Keichi, I have a feeling Nihei wanted to send Koichi alongside Rou to motivate Tsunemaru.”
“And why’s that?” Rou stumbled.
At the mention of Big Genma, Rou couldn't help his snooping. The relationship between the two goalies seemed strained, at least on Tsunemarus' part. Koichi on the other hand appeared—like always—to be indifferent to the entire situation. In fact he hadn't even turned around at the mention of his own name but rather continued to walk silent and stoic down the street as they traversed further and further into this subpar little city of theirs.
“Hmm.” Kengo lifted his pointer to tap at his chin in thought. “Well I suppose it’s because they’re both goalies, goalies are hard to come by and so it’s natural a rivalry would form, well at least on Tsunemarus’ end.”
Kengo paused briefly to smile ahead over at Koichi as he continued on. “Speaking truthfully everyone knows Koichi is a better goalie than Tsunemaru, especially since his abductor injury last year, in fact aside from our previous captain most people in Miyamori blame him for Oinokami’s loss during last year's nationals.”
“W-what?” Rou could barely speak, didn’t even know if he wanted to keep listening, learning, asking questions about the person whose life he ruined. His stomach was starting to cramp up, bubbling, boiling hot and disgustingly tar-black with guilt. Abductor injury? Had he shot down an injured bird, a blind cat, how much lower could he stoop?
“Yeah…” Kengo paused, pensive as if he was holding a moment of silence, a vigil for all the failures of this past year. “Tsunemaru sees Koichi as a threat to his position on the team, always has. Honestly I don’t agree with the coach's strategy on this one but it’s worth a shot.”
“Anyway,” Kengo stopped to stare back at Keichi. “We’re probably just tagging along cause coach knew you’d throw a fit if you weren't involved in everything your brother does.”
Kengo smiled pleasantly but Rou knew a proper mocking when he saw one and threw a smirk on himself, laughing smugly at a pouting Keichi like a cat who’d just won the creamery.
“T-that’s not true!” Keichi yelled.
And as the ear splitting sounds of Little Genma starting to throw another fit gained way, Rou instead focused his attention on the leader of their tiny pack.
No change to report. The man was as closed off as always, facing ever forward towards his goal and Rou couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to deter that determined gaze. Did he care at all about their situation? Did he feel sympathetic, superior, or simply nothing at all at the thought of Tsunemaru?
Whatever the answer was, it'd be interesting to see how their encounter would turn out. The thought of a massive, insane fight breaking out with a bandaged-wrapped, mummified Tsunemaru vs. the stoic Big Genma was a much needed distraction from the poisoned well of his own imagined interaction with the stray.
Rou hadn’t even realized he’d been staring down at the cold, grey, city streets, dazed with the overwhelming idea of having to come up with a competent enough apology to repent for something of this magnitude, until the sound of his voice rumbled out deep and reassuring in its strength.
“Rou, we’re here.” Big Genma was staring right at him, that ever shining, single minded determination in his olive green—almost golden—eyes backlit by the morning sun burning hot against the wooden door of an unremarkable, residential home.
And he wondered again, when brown eyes met gold, what it would take to move a man like this.
《●》
He could be training right now, preparing to be scouted.
That single unflinching thought has been a constant tune at the back of his head since high school; his dream pushing him ever onwards towards his goal, propelling him through the struggles of everyday life.
One could say Koichi was very goal oriented. He’d always needed something to strive for even when he was little, whether it be silly little games or simply brushing his teeth every night. Of course as he grew older and sports became his whole world it was hockey that turned into his goal, the ultimate prize of his life, so blinding it made every other desire appear dull and dusty in comparison.
This, checking up on Tsunemaru, his senpai, a rare fellow goalie, was one of these pallid desires.
Honestly it’s not that he doesn't care about Tsunemaru, he does from a teamwork and strategy standpoint, having another goalie on standby is invaluable, it’s just that he’d rather be doing anything else—preferably training—than having to wait around and have his ears subjected to the exasperating moans of his kid brother bitch against the high pitched buzz of his teammates door bell.
“M’coming, m’coming, jeez.” The lazy, thick drawl of an older man sluggishly alerted them through the door, the sound of which caused Koichi to straighten his back further to look as presentable as possible.
That wasn't Tsunemaru’s strangely smooth yet rough voice, all soft and deep at the same time like a walking contradiction, no this voice was foreign, and yet Koichi knew Tsunemaru had an older brother in the Oji Eagles. Best to look as respectable as possible, just in case.
With the creak of the front doors rusty metal hinges, that rumbly volcanic voice erupted clear as day alongside the scarily reminiscent eyes of a wildcat.
“Oh,” Long, blonde hair blew gently in the afternoon breeze alongside the tilt of a thickly bearded face. They were being scanned, the time span between the start of his sentence and the continuation of it growing ever more awkward as he soaked them in like a fresh sponge, until finally, boredly he drawled. “Your Yota’s teammates right. What do you want?”
This had to be his brother, too young to be his father and too uncannily similar to be anyone not biologically related. The eyes especially were eerie to behold, those black pools so dark it boarded on pupilless, more flat than a dead mans as they stared him down.
Some sort of intimidation tactic was most definitely being employed here as it was obvious big brother Tsunemaru didn't want to deal with a bunch of high schoolers.
Unfortunately for him, Koichi was used to those cat eyes, peaking at him all day everyday behind corners, in the hallway, the locker room, during practice, he didn't mind one bit, hell he’d even go so far as to say he was immune to it and displayed as much in his prompt reply.
“We’re here for a wellness check on behalf of coach Nihei and Oinokami sir.” He was steady and straight to the point.
Big Tsunemaru must have appreciated the swiftness, he seemed like a cut to the chase type of guy, turning away from them with an exhausted sigh and an idle wave of his hand as he lazily beckoned them into his home. “Come on in then, but make it quick, m’too tired for all this.”
“Thank you sir.” Koichi bowed, making sure to remove his shoes before following after the elder Tsunemaru.
He didn’t bother looking behind him, knew his pack would follow along quietly after that display of intimidation, well… Maybe not Keichi… or Rou… Fuck. He really hoped this didn’t turn into a shit show.
The house is modest, nice but nothing to gawk at, a little more modern than his own home as it was actually in city limits, the hallways white and well lit, clean until they’d turned the corner to find a door ajar.
“Ah fuck, not this crap again.” Rough fingers raked through blonde hair, stress and annoyance written clearly across the elders face.
Even from a distant side profile Koichi could see the man was about ready to explode as he glared into what was most likely Yota’s room. A series of grumbled curses began to lace under his breath, the hand not scrubbing through his head like he was looking to scalp it practically crushing the doorknob as the pressure in the hallway continued to bubble and build.
What’s happening? Was there something wrong with the room? The man was acting as if someone had pissed the bed or something. And suddenly the thought of Tsunemaru doing such a thing—of wetting himself, too frail to even make it to the toilet, those pale cheeks turning red as apples with shame as he squirmed under the soiled covers—blasted him in the head like a bokko, the twisted daydream sending a shock of heat down his gut, a disturbed frown gracing his freshly bitten lips in reaction.
‘Stop it. Tsunamaru wouldn’t do that.’
Or would he? The aggressive slam of hardwood whacking against its frame suggested otherwise as the older Tsunemaru made his way menacingly back down the stairs, cutting past his teammates like a lawn mowing through grass.
“Dumb animal, damn cat won’t stay put, little fucking psycho!”
The loud stomps of their host were fading fast alongside his continued curses, a clear sign to follow and his crew were quick to obey, scrambling like little ducklings down the stairs in a bid to avoid the man's radiating wrath.
However, Koichi couldn’t leave just yet, the sway and creak of the poor, abused door of his teammate's room bouncing back and forth against its frame beckoning him towards it like a siren's song.
He was curious, what could be so bad? The inside of Tsunemarus’ room was beginning to glow shiny in his mind, bright and promising with intrigue. Of course he tried to keep his interest at bay, facial expression neutral if not bored as he peeked into what to most people was their most intimate space—where he slept, got dressed, jacked off… Naked, bet he looks so cu- Nope, no, stop—only to find the entire room in a state of complete and utter disaster.
The sheets were ripped off the bed, black books with pentagrams painted across their covers torn to shreds alongside hockey posters and paraphernalia. Honestly it looked like a pipe bomb had gone off or some sort of creature had broken in and let loose a tornado, a bull in a china shop if you will, with everything not nailed down or weighted scratched up to the point of no return.
Koichi was silent, too stunned and concerned to even react with anything aside from a deep frown.
Was this normal? What Kengo said wasn’t untrue. This was the end of the line, surely Tsunemaru realizes it too, perhaps this is all he can do to release the pain of that realization?
Koichi gave the room his gaze for a few more seconds, taking in the clear distress scraped all over its inhabitants before turning to walk pensively downstairs.
The lights were off in the house as it was still quite early in the day, it’s walls painted bright and tranquil with a fresh morning's blue light, a stark contrast to the loud and abrasive shouts blazing from outside its protective walls. There was a trail of curses bursting their way through the sliding glass door leading into the backyard which showed Koichi the way, his face falling even further into a frown at the sight of the elder Tsunemaru yelling well, more like chiding up at a tree.
“Hey, you fucking wildcat, ya got some visitors.”
Koichi could see the blatant confusion on his teammates faces and tried to control his own perturbed expression as he approached the massive Japanese oak lording strong and beautiful over their humble backyard.
It was strange to see a tree of this size so close to the city, but he could understand why they’d chosen to keep it, cutting down such a gem would be an affront to nature itself. One glance alone proved how cherished it was; he could see scratch marks in its deep, brown trunk; roughed wood branded lovingly with the growing heights of its owners.
Must be a lot of memories attached to this tree, maybe it brought Tsunemaru some comfort, sitting beside it.
Except, Koichi couldn't see him anywhere on ground level, and his older brother was looking skyward as he continued to growl and screech in frustration.
“Need help getting down? Want me to call the fire department for you, kitty?”
Cats, trees, fire department? Was he seriously climbing trees in his state? Can’t be, no way. Koichi frowned, squinting his eyes to look up between the light dappled foliage alongside his packmates. And it was there, amidst the green leaves where his breath was stolen by charcoal eyes, deep, black pearls peeking past the branches to look down upon them like a bored yet curious god among peasants—true cat behavior if he’d ever seen it.
He was pale, so pale he almost looked like a ghost, his snowy skin turning pink in the face, those round cheeks patched up with stitches, rosy in the cold alongside the curve of his knees—basketball shorts in winter was certainly a choice.
Honestly the poor thing looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and decided to claw his way skywards in a fit of what? Anger, fright?
Yet his expression didn’t read that at all, well as much of it as Koichi could see under the shadowy halo of his blanket; creamy white and soft to the sight, it draped over his head like a milky cloak, kept him bundled nice and warm up in the air, the image almost comical if it wasn't so concerning.
It was strange behavior, even for Tsunemaru. The blaring warning signs almost as bright as the blood red contrast of their school jersey against ivory skin.
Even from a distance Koichi could see how oversized it’d become hanging off of Tsunemarus’ slender frame like it belonged to someone else entirely. He’d definitely lost some muscle mass, the creamy curves of his thighs peaking out as he straddled the thick branch between his legs, cold-pinked fingers curled up small and barely visible under the fabric of his sleeves—sweater paws—planted firmly in front of him.
Guess laying in bed for weeks on end will do that to you—lose weight, but not seemingly go insane.
No this felt weird, the aura all wrong, was that creature up there looking down at his own brother like a complete stranger really Koichi’s teammate?
“You just gonna stare all day? You’re buddies came to see ya.” Takuya paused for a minute, dark eyes burning into eerie black holes in a game of clue as he tried to figure out how to crack his baby brother's code.
The whole interaction felt foreign, uncanny, there's no way this is how they normally interacted no matter how strange Tsunemaru was. The silence was near unbearable to witness, the nearby sight of Rou practically shitting himself in guilt ridden fear, enough of a confirmation that it wasn't just Koichi who was put off by the whole situation.
After another unbearable minute of pure quiet, Koichi felt the sting of a glance shifting his way, a stray finger lifting up to point at him almost accusingly alongside the smug baritone of a big brother. “Genma Koichi is here as well.”
Then it all happened in an instant, the curious tilt of his head as those doll-like eyes dragged across the winter grass, locking into place amidst his own golden green. Adrenaline rushed through him like a drug, inky pupils contracting and expanding alongside each other as he watched their wildcat’s pale face crack open bright and shining, so blinding in its joy it almost made Koichi sick.
He could feel something stirring, deep inside, lascivious, depraved urges he’d been repressing since he’d first laid eyes on Yota Tsunemaru.
His heart was practically fit to burst at the sight of those soft lips curling upwards around a breathy cloud of steam parting past sharp little canines and a pink tongue as Tsunemaru nearly moaned in a sudden fit of joyous mania.
“Immortal Sugimoto, have you come to join me in hell?”