Just Friends

"Hey." Tachibana leaned against the doorway of classroom 2-A, running a hand through his long blond hair. "Have any of you seen Chitose?"

The few students eating lunch in the classroom froze and stared up at him, and Tachibana wondered what exactly their problem was.

"Umm. . . we saw him heading off some where with Tanaka."

For such a ridiculously smart guy, Chitose was an idiot. One day, Tachibana thought, Chitose's complete inability to keep his dick in his pants was going to get him into a lot of trouble. He made his way out of the school and past the soccer field, coming to a familiar wooden shack. He opened the door without knocking, simply out of habit, relieved when he didn't open it to a more. . . unsavory scene.

"Hey, Kippei," Chitose said, lounging in one of the bean bag chairs he had dragged into the abandoned structure. "What's up?"

Tachibana quickly stepped into the shack and closed the door before any one could smell the smoke wafting out or see Chitose laying there with a small glass pipe in his hand. Tanaka was gone, but Chitose's uniform was untucked and wrinkled, and he had a definite sated expression on his face.

"Pass that over," Tachibana said, coming to sit beside him on the floor. He took the glass pipe and the lighter in his head, leaning forward to take a long, slow hit. They sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of schoolchildren playing muffled some distance away.

"You know," Tachibana said, before his head got too fuzzy, "just because Nationals is finished doesn't mean you can start skipping practice."

". . . there was practice this morning?"

"Chitose, come on."

"Yeah, yeah," Chitose said, hands up in a placating gesture. "We'll win next year, and all that, blah blah."

"Just don't miss practice this afternoon."

"Why? Something going on this afternoon?"

"Ranking matches. We're playing each other."

"Yeah?" Chitose grinned. "Looking forward to getting your ass kicked?"

"Idiot," Tachibana said, but he was chuckling. After that, their conversation started drifted off into the nonsensical, although they wouldn't be able to remember it in a few hours anyway.

Later on, both boys were sweating as they fought it out on the court, their heads clear of the haze they had found themselves in earlier. It was a close, even match, Tachibana's aggressive style the perfect counter for Chitose's more cerebral tennis.

But this was it, Tachibana thought, chasing after the ball. His lips pulled up into a cocky grin. He had been waiting to show Chitose this, had been waiting to see the surprise on Chitose's face. He saw the ball coming, saw the perfect opportunity. . . abare dama.

He was still smiling as the ball hit Chitose to the ground, but his smile faltered when he realized that something was seriously wrong. Chitose wasn't getting back up. Chitose was curling up on his side on the ground, and then the other members were rushing to the court. He could hear some one yelling about an ambulance, but Tachibana couldn't move, shock freezing him to that one spot on the court.

The next day Tachibana didn't go to practice. He went home directly after school, doing his homework in the study as An pretended not to hover around him. Finally she slammed a vase of flowers in front of him on the table, startling him into looking up.

"Mom and I are going to visit Chitose-san in the hospital," she said, "you should come."

Tachibana only shook his head as he looked back down at his homework, at the simple sheet of math he had been working on for the last hour. "I'm busy."

An and his mother came back from their visit two hours after that, and Tachibana was staring at the same exact page.

"He seems good," An said, "he'll probably be fine soon."

"You know, Kippei," he mother said, sighing in disappointment, "if you had only controlled yourself during the match, Senri wouldn't have been injured."

An frowned, reading the agreement on her brother's face.

For his part, Tachibana collected his books and made his way up to his room. There he sank into his mattress, wondering when Chitose was coming back from the hospital, wondering what he would say to him when he did. An had said it had been a eye injury. . . so it shouldn't be that bad, right? But, Tachibana thought, his mother was right. He always had been too impulsive, too aggressive. . . if he hadn't been, Chitose wouldn't be in the hospital right now.

He looked to his side, eyes catching his reflection in a mirror. He looked like such a delinquent, he thought, with that long, bleached hair. All of a sudden it felt too heavy on his head, and he got up, grabbing a pair of scissors as he made his way to the bathroom.

Chitose came back from the hospital a few days later, but he still wasn't coming to practice. He was calling, though, messages in Tachibana's mail box asking him to call back. But Tachibana couldn't bring himself to call. He was such a coward, he thought. But every day at practice his eyes would continually flick back towards the tennis court gates, waiting for Chitose to step through.

Two weeks later he couldn't stand it anymore. In an impulsive moment he found himself shooting out of bed and walking that familiar path to Chitose's house. Once he got there, though, his energy had left him, and he lingered on the door step as he wondered what he should do next. Twice he turned to leave, but then his hand was reaching for the doorbell, seemingly of its own volition.

Silence, for a moment, and then footsteps heading from the upstairs down. The door swung open, and then Chitose was staring at him, his eyes huge.

"Your hair!"

"I cut it off," Tachibana said, hand reaching upwards to brush through his now close cropped hair. Now that Chitose had said it, he missed it, his head feeling all of a sudden light. "Can I talk to you?"

Chitose stepped aside so that Tachibana could come into the house, closing the door behind them. "Dude. You're the one that's been avoiding me. You haven't returned any of my calls."

"You haven't come to tennis club," Tachibana countered, completely unaware of what Chitose was going to say next.

"I turned in my resignation last week."

Tachibana could feel that cold shock freezing him in place again. He mumbled some sound or word of surprise, but the room was spinning around him. Chitose had quit tennis? Why? For how long? A million questions filtering through his head, but he couldn't even voice one.

"Yeah, well, it's kind of pointless right now, I wouldn't do the team any good." Chitose said, pointing to his injured eye. Tachibana felt a wave of guilt rush through him. And Chitose was speaking as if it wasn't even a big deal. Tachibana had just forced him to quit tennis, and he was acting like everything was completely normal. "The season's over anyway."

"There's next year," Tachibana argued.

"Well, we'll see what happens next year then." A pause, Chitose's expression brightening up, and Tachibana figured he really was an idiot if he couldn't see the ramifications of this. "Do you want to come upstairs and hang out?"

Tachibana shook his head no. "I just came to tell you. . . I came to apologize. I never meant for this to happen."

"I know-"

"I don't know what I would do if I couldn't play tennis again." It was the truth, but Chitose was looking at him with a sad expression now. Chitose was never thinking what Tachibana thought the other boy was thinking, and he wondered what was going through the other boy's head right now.

Tachibana went to reach for the front door. "Chitose. . . I'll see you in school."

Chitose nodded, and Tachibana let himself out.

That night he thought about all the years they had spent together, playing tennis together. He remembered when it had started, both of them ten years old. Tachibana's father had taken them to a tennis match. Him, Chitose, and An. Tachibana had been the one to become immersed in the game, the rules forever ingrained into him as he watched that one match. And An, because she had always idolized her big brother, followed every point that he did, their eyes running back and forth with every shot of the ball. Chitose alone hadn't been interested.

But later on they had camped out in a tent in Tachibana's backyard, a jar of freshly-caught fireflies flickering between them

"I want to play tennis," Tachibana had said. It was out of nowhere, but his mind had still been on that game he had watched earlier.

"If Kippei wants to play tennis," Chitose had said, "I want to play too."

The next day their mothers had signed them up for lessons.

And now it was over.

The next few days there was talk in Tachibana's household about Tokyo. Snippets of conversations, something about a transfer for work and his parents gong over the pros and cons of moving.

If they moved, Tachibana thought, he'd be different. No impulsive decisions, no drugs, and no alcohol. The kind of person who didn't send their best friend to the hospital with a possibly permanent injury.

When they moved, he'd be different.

* * *

An waved at him from where she was in the middle of a rally with some other girl, smiling happily. Tachibana frowned, knowing that her opponent would only use the distraction to her advantage. . . sure enough, there it was, a ball zooming past An's mildly shocked face. But then she was back in the game, serious again, and at any rate she was leading anyway.

After the game she was running up to him, even as the other girls were heading into the club room.

"Oni-chan," she said, "you didn't have to wait for me."

"I had to stay after school to talk to a teacher anyway, so I thought we could walk home together."

"Wait for me to change?"

Tachibana nodded, leaning against the chain link fence. It didn't take long for An to run back out of the club room, dressed in one of those skirts that Tachibana found way too short. At least, he thought, she was wearing shorts underneath.

"Can we walk past the boys' courts?" An asked. Tachibana's eyes narrowed at his sister, but her expression was all sugar and spice. "I just want to say hello to some friends in my class."

Tachibana sighed, but allowed his sister to lead him to the boys' courts. He understood why she disagreed with his decision to quit tennis, but she was going to have to learn to accept it. She hadn't really lied, though, and when they got to the courts she waved at some boys standing against the club house. Three of them waved back, though their expressions weren't exactly what Tachibana would call overjoyed.

The reason became clear enough in a second, when the coach came to talk to them. Well, talk wasn't exactly the right word. . . Tachibana and An couldn't hear the discussion from here, but it was clear that he was berating the small first years. Their upperclassmen were all watching, openly snickering at whatever the coach was saying. One of the first years looked up at An then, flushing in embarrassment at the fact that she was still watching, but then Tachibana was pulling her away.

"Come on, An," he said, "this is embarrassing."

An followed him, frowning as she nodded. "It's not fair, oni-san. They're really good. It's that stupid coach."

Tachibana didn't say anything back.

Kamio was the first one who sought him out. And where Kamio went, Shinji usually followed.

That day Tachibana was eating lunch alone in some secluded corner of the grounds. It was bordered by an old wall and some low lying trees, so it was the perfect place to sit beneath the shade and avoid all the other students. He hadn't exactly warmed up to any one yet, hadn't really made the effort, and at any rate it was more peaceful this way.

And then, rupturing his quiet like a storm cloud, a small, skinny boy with bright red hair.

"Tachibana-san," he said, head suddenly appearing out of a bush. "Do you mind if we eat lunch with you?"

Before he could say no there were two boys sitting down in front of him, pulling out their lunches like they were all friends. He swore he could hear An's voice, murmuring words of encouragement before her small footsteps carried her away.

"I'm Kamio Akira," the redhead said, and then gestured to his blue-haired friend, "and this is Ibu Shinji."

"Tachibana Kippei," Tachibana answered, though he was sure by now that they knew.

He watched them carefully, wondering what their pitch was going to be. Shinji had started eating a sandwich, neat little bites disappearing between his lips, and looked perfectly content to let Kamio do all the talking. Kamio, on the other hand, was noticeably less relaxed than his friends. He was sitting seiza style, but with his back pitched forward, arms straight and long and hands fisted on his knees. He was saying something about An, or about being in An's class, a light blush on his cheeks as his eyes avoided making contact with Tachibana's.

"Is it true you're a nationally ranked player?" It was Shinji who cut to the chase and asked the question, something Tachibana would only later learn was uncharacteristic for the duo.

"If that's what An told you," Tachibana replied, "she doesn't really have a reason to lie."

"Why don't you join the tennis club?" Kamio asked, eyes meeting Tachibana's for a brief moment before they looked away again.

"I don't play tennis anymore," Tachibana said.

"But. . ." Kamio's fists were clenching more tightly now, but then Shinji was finishing his sandwich and interrupting.

"Maybe," Shinji started, "if you join the team, the coach will listen to you. Because you're nationally ranked, you know, and even a guy like him can see how useful it would be to have a nationally ranked player on the team. And if he listens to you, you can get him to let us play, because we're pretty good. Better than the regulars."

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" Tachibana asked, deciding to ignore their plea for him to join the team.

Kamio's cheeks turned even redder at the question.

"Well, once we didn't, once Kamio lost his temper-"

"Shinji."

"-and threw a racket at one of an upperclassmen, and then the upperclassmen went to grab him-"

"Shinji."

"-and before we knew it we were all fighting, and I got a bruise and a black eye-"

"Shinji!"

Tachibana could feel a small smile tug at his lips. So the redhead had a fiery streak.

"Well," Shinji continued, "in the end, we were punished, and we weren't allowed to play tennis for two weeks. So, the point is, we just want to be able to play tennis."

"You should just start your own team," Tachibana stated, his old anti-authority streak flaring up minutely within him.

Both Kamio and Shinji were blinking up at him now, wondering.

"Can we do that?" Kamio asked.

Tachibana shrugged. "Is there any rule against it?"

But then the bell was ringing, marking the end of the lunch period.

"Tachibana-san," Kamio said, "can we eat lunch with you again tomorrow?"

Kamio was looking straight at him now, eyes plaintive underneath those long eyelashes, and Tachibana found himself nodding yes.

The other first years slowly made his acquaintance, one by one. Saying hello to him in the hallways, in between classes. Ishida, Mori, Uchimura, Sakurai. . . and behind them all, he could sense An's directing hand. He even found out that they had taken his suggestion to heart, commandeering an old tennis court on the school grounds for practice.

"Do you have a coach yet?" he asked one day at lunch.

Kamio shook his head no. "I've been asking the faculty members, but none of them really know that much about tennis."

"Oni-chan can be the coach," An said, because it was one of those rare days when she decided to join them. Tachibana shot her a withering glare, and she quickly changed the subject. Thinking about tennis made him think about Chitose, about Kyuushuu and Shishigaku and winning Nationals together.

A month after he had transferred to Fudomine, Tachibana found himself walking to lunch with just Kamio. Shinji was, apparently, sick for the day, and An was off with her girlfriends.

"How's the tennis club coming along?" Tachibana asked, telling himself that it was only politeness that made him ask.

"I guess it's okay," Kamio replied. "Some of the kids from the other tennis club found out about it though, and I heard they're not too happy."

Tachibana shrugged. "It really doesn't have anything to do with them."

"Yeah. It would still be great to have you on the team though. . ." but he trailed off, not as brave as An was when it came to pushing her brother.

They came to their usual spot and sat down on the grass there, Kamio fidgeting in the way he did when he was nervous about something.

"Tachibana-san," he said, eyes darting everywhere but Tachibana's direction, "I made you a bento."

"Did you?" Tachibana asked, in the midst of taking his own lunch out of his bag. He placed it back in as Kamio nodded and took out two small boxes, pushing one to wait in front of Tachibana.

Tachibana opened the plastic box, staring at its rather messily made contents. He picked up some rice in his chopsticks.

"Isn't a homemade lunch," Tachibana said, slowly as to watch Kamio's reaction, "something a girl usually makes for a boy?"

Kamio's cheeks were an angry red that matched his hair. But the food wasn't entirely bad.

"Thank you, Kamio," Tachibana said. "Tomorrow I'll have to make a bento for you."

"Does Tachibana-san cook?" Kamio asked, the blush of his cheeks slightly less prominent.

Tachibana nodded in reply.

Later on that night, Tachibana took over the kitchen to cook, An watching him with an amused expression.

"Kamio's cute, isn't he?" she asked, adding salt to one of his bowls. "You know, he was asking me about you before he even knew you played tennis."

"You shouldn't gossip," Tachibana replied, "it's unbecoming."

An only laughed.

About a week later Tachibana found himself standing at the tennis court that the first years had commandeered. An had finally convinced him, after days of nagging. He watched them take turns practicing on the court, watched Kamio and Shinji laughing with each other under the shade. He could feel a kind of emptiness in his stomach. . . a desire to be holding a racket, to be playing tennis with Chitose.

Guilt hit him at the thought of his childhood friend, and he turned away.

"Oni-chan. . . " An's voice, sad and lilting.

He was a good distance away from the court before he heard the running behind him, and he slowed down his pace to let Kamio catch up.

"Tachibana-san," Kamio asked, "are you okay?"

Tachibana stopped. Kamio was flushed and slightly panting from the run. His lips were parted just slightly, and Tachibana had the urge to kiss them.

"Kamio," he said, reaching out to grab onto Kamio's wrist. "Do you want to go to a love hotel with me?"

Kamio's eyes were saucers as he stared up at him. Tachibana felt all of a sudden embarrassed. Where had that come from? He had been too abrupt. He never had been as good as Chitose when it came to reading signs and making the proper moves.

"Sorry," he said, releasing Kamio's hand. "Forget I said anything."

"No, no," Kamio said, quickly reaching out to grab onto the sleeve of Tachibana's jacket. "I'll go."

"Are you doing anything on Saturday?"

". . . no."

"Do you want to meet me at the train station at noon?"

A nod. They stood there, awkwardly for a few moments, before Kamio mumbled his goodbyes and ran back to the courts.

On Saturday Tachibana walked to the train station, not surprised to find Kamio already waiting for him there. The boy was standing outside with a baseball cap over his red hair, obligatory headphones stuck in his ears. His body couldn't stay still, but he wasn't moving to the tune of any music, and Tachibana recognized it for what it was. Nervousness.

He walked up to the other boy, placing a hand on Kamio's shoulder as gently as it could. But it didn't stop Kamio from jumping about a foot in the air. Tachibana swore that even Kamio's hair was standing up, a frightened cat in an alley way.

Kamio jerked his headphones out of his ears. "Tachibana-san. Hey."

"Are you ready to go?"

Kamio nodded quickly as he followed Tachibana to the train, and they rode it to the Shibuya, Kamio's eyes darting this way and that. Tachibana wondered if he was worried about any one seeing them. They were standing so close together on the train, and Tachibana spent the time looking down at the top of Kamio's baseball cap, feeling awkward in the silence that had formed between them.

The silence followed them even as they got off, Kamio always following just half a step behind Tachibana. Tachibana picked a hotel at random, and then they were in the lobby, Kamio tugging his cap lower down on his face as he followed Tachibana through the halls and into their room.

Tachibana watched out of the corner of his eye, not missing the furious blush that spread over Kamio's face when Tachibana stopped at a vending machine to buy a condom. At least, Tachibana thought, Kamio hadn't looked at the other contents of the machine. . . there were worse things in there than just condoms.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

Kamio's attention seemed to be focused on the at that little packet in Tachibana's hand, but he managed to nod his assent to the question. Tachibana moved forward, frowning a little bit when Kamio took a step back, but at least this way he could maneuver Kamio onto the bed with just a few steps.

The back of Kamio's knees hit the bed and he plopped onto it with an utter lack of grace. The mattress shifted as Tachibana climbed on, and Kamio was still backing up, until there was nowhere else to go. Kamio laid on the bed, propped up on his forearms, as Tachibana hovered above and around him. Arms, legs touching, close enough to kiss. So cute, Tachibana thought, with that easy flush that always appeared so quickly on his cheeks. And he leaned down, until he could feel their breathing intermingle, but Kamio was almost shivering now.

"Kamio. . . are you okay?"

"It's just. . ." and he blushed, if it was possible, even more furiously, "I've never kissed any one before."

Tachibana backed off, but only by an inch, and Kamio was blinking up at him. "Are you sure you're okay doing this? We don't have to."

"No," Kamio replied, his answer quick. "I want to. I just never thought, with Tachibana-san. . ."

But that was all he was able to say, because then Tachibana was kissing him. They were soft kisses at first, just gentle presses against Kamio's lips. But, slowly, they grew into something else, heated and urgent. And when Tachibana's tongue teased at Kamio's lips, they opened easily, inviting him in, Kamio's hands fisting in Tachibana's shirt.

Still kissing the boy, Tachibana leaned forward, forcing Kamio to lay down completely one the bed. He felt Kamio's body jump a little when he pressed his erection into the other boy's thigh, but then he was reaching down with his hand, and Kamio was just as hard. Kamio gasped as Tachibana squeezed him through his pants, breaking their kiss for only a second before Tachibana reclaimed his lips.

Tachibana's hand make quick work of the zipper, and he pulled the shaft of Kamio's cock out, wrapping his hand around it and giving it a short pull. Kamio moaned, arching upwards against his touch, and Tachibana withdrew from their kiss. He watched Kamio's face, cheeks red and eyes tightly closed, his mouth a tiny 'o' as Tachibana's hand started jerking him off.

Several strokes later there was a physically awkward moment, Tachibana breaking contact so they could fumble with getting Kamio's pants off. But then that was done and Tachibana was crawling back down the bed as Kamio laid back down.

Tachibana placed his hands underneath Kamio's ass, lifting and opening him up. He could see that tight puckered hole come into view, and he brought his head forward, brought his tongue to press against it. He could feel Kamio's muscle's tense, could hear Kamio's short intake of breath, and could imagine the embarrassment that would be on his face right now.

"Tachibana-san, don-"

But Tachibana swirled his tongue around the edge of the hole, and Kamio let out a moan. Tachibana traced lazy circles over Kamio's hole, pressing more insistently with each one, until Kamio opened up to him and he could start to slide his tongue in. He started thrusting it in and out, and soon Kamio was all short pants and long moans, writhing around him.

Tachibana pulled his tongue out with a small, wet noise. At some point he had managed to get lubricant onto his fingers, and he pressed two fingers into Kamio's ass, watching as it sucked him in. He pulled them back and forth for awhile, watching as they disappeared and reappeared in Kamio's hole. Then he twisted them, scissoring, until he felt it had been enough.

Tachibana climbed back up the length of Kamio's body, pushing Kamio's thighs up and away.

"Hold your legs up for me," he said, and Kamio's hands came obediently to grasp the back of his thighs.

Tachibana leaned forward, balancing himself with one forearm on the bed while his other hand reached down to slip on the condom. He took hold of his cock, squeezing it as he pressed it gently against Kamio's hole. With a groan he pushed it forward, and he heard Kamio's breath hitch as the head of his cock slid inside.

Tachibana let go of his cock, bringing his arm down so he could support himself, both forearms around Kamio's head. Kamio's legs were sandwiched between their bodies, and Tachibana used a hand to brush the hair off of Kamio's forehead. He started to thrust shallowly, each time getting a little bit more of himself into Kamio's body, each time forcing a louder moan from Kamio's mouth.

By the time Tachibana was all the way inside the other boy, Kamio's eyes were clenched shut, his breathing short and irregular. Kamio was so tight around him that it almost hurt, so hot that it was all he could do to keep from slamming himself into him over and over again.

"Are you okay?" Tachibana managed to ask. "Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," Kamio replied, almost a whisper, but he was almost cringing.

"Sorry." He leaned down to place a kiss on Kamio's forehead. "I'll try to be fast."

Tachibana pulled out, slowly, before thrusting back in again. God. . . it felt so good, and he did it again, groaning at the tight heat. His own eyes shut as he fucked Kamio, only half aware of the pants and moans he elicited with each thrust of his hips. Kamio's hands were clawing at his arms, frantically pulling them together, and Tachibana moved his own hand down between them. Kamio was still hard against his stomach, and he wrapped a hand around Kamio's cock. He jerked it clumsily as he fucked him harder, faster, almost pounding him into the mattress, and then he groaned as he came, cock twitching inside Kamio's ass.

He kept thrusting, and Kamio came a few seconds later, making a mess between them.

Their breathing slowed, evened out, and when Tachibana pulled himself out of the other boy it was almost painful. And then, the haze of orgasm quickly receding, the two boys laid side by side on the bed. Painfully conscious, neither knew what to say to the other, what to do now.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Tachibana slid one hand underneath Kamio's head, the other over Kamio's stomach.

"We can take a short nap if you want," Tachibana said, "I paid for three hours."

Kamio nodded, but he didn't seem like he was going to go to sleep soon. One of his hands moved to tentatively lay on Tachibana's arm.

"Do you want to go see a movie later?" Tachibana asked. He could feel Kamio's heart speed up for just a beat.

"Yeah," Kamio murmured, "I'd like that."