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edge (1/1)

title: i stood at the edge

pairing: Gen, Past Magnus Bane/Camille Belcourt, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

rating: G

setting: Canonverse

word count: ~3000

summary: Snapshots of Magnus’s relationship with Camille throughout the years, and an introspection on all that happened between them.

“If I could hate you, I would find myself drowned in this shallow sea.”

It’s not that simple.

His fingers curled around the cold metal railing of the balcony, the wind almost strong enough to send shivers up his spine. Magnus’s thoughts were at once too loud and too hollow, echoing back and forth in the recesses his mind.

It wasn’t something Raphael or Simon could possibly understand, the weight of memory on nights like this. Not quite guilt, nor regret…just a sense of longing and sorrow for a fleeting time that had long passed. For a woman that neither of them had ever met.

(For the man that he used to be, and the man he would never be.)

No matter how many years passed, he would never forget the emptiness of that night. Not when it still clung in the corners of his being, blurring out the edges of his thoughts.

---

On one of the highest rooftops, Magnus looked over the city of London. The only sound around him was the chilly, early spring wind whispering through spaces between the buildings.

Most of the taverns had cleared out already, and the cabbies had all returned home in the early hours of the morning. It would still be quite a while before the sun rose– perhaps if he looked a little more carefully, he could find the nooks in the alleys where the night children were reveling in their scarce hours of freedom. A few wolves would be stalking through the streets, the young ones not yet able to control their transformations.

But what did it matter, if there was anyone down there at all? Not one of them would ever see him.

(And why should they? There was nothing worth finding here.)

If he took just a few more steps, off this ledge…that was all it would take to break this silence. Living for just a single moment, one breathless fall, before fading. None of it would matter. Forgotten, from a world he never belonged in anyway.

(Who would ever know?)

“You know it probably won’t work, right?”

A honeyed voice broke into his thoughts, and he spun around to see a woman leaning against the brick pillar of a chimney, the details of her features hidden by the shadows. In her hand was a wine glass, and as she tilted to take a drink, he caught the faint, unmistakable scent of blood.

“I’ve seen a couple of them try it, but your magic tends to kick in right before you hit the street. Fear’s a rather potent trigger.”

“What do you want?” Magnus glared at the intruding vampire as he felt an annoyance creep into the empty calm from moments earlier.

“Hmm. Nothing much, just a show. And in case it worked out for you, I was thinking I’d get a nice meal. Warlock blood’s pretty hard to come by.” Her nonchalant tone didn’t have even a hint of unease, which meant she was probably fairly powerful. Magnus found himself impressed despite himself.

“Well, you’ve rather ruined your chances then, haven’t you? Should’ve stayed quiet.” The moment was officially over now, and Magnus walked back away from the edge. He shook his head– it had been a stupid thought, a momentary lapse of logic.

(One that happened far too often these days.)

She looked up at him for the first time, allowing her beautiful face to catch the moonlight. Her eyes seemed to glow, framed by thick lashes that contrasted sharply with her unearthly pale skin. Dark hair spilled over her shoulders, a few strands picking up and flowing in the breeze as she walked slowly over to him.

For a second, he forgot how to breathe. Magnus had seen many stunning beings of every species over the years and he was immune to the effects of a vampire’s encanto, but the way this woman commanded the air around her left him enchanted nonetheless. When she stopped in front of him, he could do nothing but stare.

“It’s alright. I think your pretty face might be worth a bit more than a drink.” Her crimson red lips formed words that he barely caught in his stupor, but as she moved her hand up to cup his face, he jerked back in surprise.

Her laughter was like the sound of bells.

“You poor thing. I wasn’t going to scratch you for a taste, don’t worry.”

It was his turn to grin now. This was a game he knew how to play.

“I’m sure you weren’t, but one can never be too careful. I wouldn’t want a lovely lady like you to get hurt.”

Her elegant eyebrows rose in confusion, and, for the first time in weeks, he laughed. Lowering the glamour on his eyes, he let his magic flare around him. Magnus was pleased when her eyes sparked with a wild hunger instead of the fear he was so used to seeing whenever he used his magic.

The magic inherited from the blood of a Greater Demon.

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you? You should show that off more often. I wouldn’t mind getting…burned a bit, for a taste.” She let her lips open, giving him full view of her tongue as it traced the edges of her perfectly white fangs.

“You play a dangerous game, my lady.”

This time, he didn’t draw back when she approached him. He let her trail her nails lightly across his arm, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Darling, I’ve got nothing but an eternity of boredom waiting for me. I like living as close to the edge as I can. Especially since this one’s a whole lot more fun than the one you were dangling from.”

She leaned in close to his ear and lowered her voice to a sultry whisper.

“What do you say to some company tomorrow night? Somewhere out of this dreadful cold?”

Magnus wasn’t sure what he wanted, but in that moment, nothing was more alluring than the warmth in her voice. He felt her lips curl into a wide smile against his neck as he nodded.

---

“Magnus. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to come to this.”

He glanced up and felt his heart break a bit at the look Raphael was giving him. How could he regret anything when the living proof of what he had saved was standing right there? No matter how much he owed Camille, he would never be willing to trade away the family he finally found here.

“Raphael, dear, you have nothing to apologize for.”

Raphael might not ever understand his feelings, but he respected Magnus deeply. He knew a little too much about the complicated past Magnus shared with Camille, and would have kept his silence this time as well if it weren’t for Aldertree’s threats to his clan. Over the years, Raphael sought his help less and less frequently, and Magnus wasn’t sure if that was something that should make him happy.

The scared, uncontrolled young vampire had become the leader of an entire clan, overturning the most dangerous woman either of them had ever known to earn that title. Magnus was so proud of Raphael, but a part of him realized that now he was no longer needed.

This was probably what parents felt like when their children left home, he thought.

No matter how much time passed, though, he wanted Raphael to know he had a place to return to. That was one thing that wouldn’t change.

“Really.” He added when Raphael turned away, refusing to meet his eyes. “Camille went too far, and she should have known that.”

“She was important to you.”

“Yes.” He wouldn’t lie. “She was, a long time ago. And maybe even now.” Magnus gripped Raphael’s shoulders gently, turning the vampire towards him.

“But I would never choose her over my family.”

---

“Magnus Bane! What are you doing with that vermin off the streets?”

Camille’s lovely face was twisted in a vicious sneer as she looked down at the young vampire lying on their couch. Magnus suspected this might happen, but he had hoped she would at least offer some pity for her own kind.

Thank god Raphael was out cold.

“His name’s Raphael. He dug his way out just last night and would have razed the town. He’s already killed two mundanes. I had to get him somewhere before the shadowhunters found his trail.”

“You could’ve just taken out the problem down there instead of bringing this filth into our home.” He was left incredulous at what she was suggesting.

“Camille, would it kill you to show some sensitivity? You know what he’s gone through.”

Her coldness was one thing he had never expected after the first time they met years ago. He knew she was a ruthless woman, but she had also pulled him out of a darkness that nearly swallowed him. Looking at the unconscious vampire, Magnus was reminded of himself years ago when he still feared his own powers.

Camille, however, saw none of this. Instead, she scoffed.

“Life’s tough, sweetheart. Especially for nightchildren. If he can’t dig himself out of his own problems, that’s not my business. Or yours.”

“He’s a child.” It was true. The kid couldn’t have been more than eighteen or so.

Camille sighed and put her arms around Magnus. Her skin felt icy, even through his clothes, and the scent of blood clung to her.

She had been hunting.

Magnus wondered if anyone had died tonight.

Probably not.

Unlike Raphael, her control was perfect, and the only deaths at her hand were dealt intentionally. It was a level of mastery that Magnus had always admired, but sometimes he wondered if that was why she held so little sympathy for other downworlders.

“You’re still so soft-hearted.” Her tone was sweetly exasperated now. “You have to learn to nip the weak ones at the bud before they become the burden of an entire clan down the line. It’s our way.”

Magnus turned to her, eyes hard.

“It’s not my way, Camille.”

---

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Ragnor appeared at his side late that night. Despite drinking an entire bottle of his strongest wine, the memories refused to fade from his mind. It figured that tonight, all the spirits of the past would come to haunt him.

“I thought you left for good that time, after the wedding. At least you’re a ghost that’s welcome here.” Magnus played along, just as he always had. Surely he was allowed his own private delusions after the day he’d endured.

“Am I, truly? You never seem to listen or take my advice.”

“I humor you often enough. And you forget that last time, at least, I followed through.” Magnus grinned, remembering the triumphant kiss with Alec in front of a crowd of wide-eyed shadowhunters.

“A good thing you did.” Ragnor chuckled. “That boy’s been good for you.”

Magnus poured another glass of wine and set it in front of Ragnor’s chair, even though he knew his friend would never be able to touch it. Ragnor’s eyebrow rose, and the two of them stared at each other.

“I wish you were here.”

“No you don’t. You’re just upset about Camille and wish you could replace her ghost with another.”

His heart clenched. He wondered if Ragnor would truly believe that if he were here now.

“That’s not true, Ragnor.”

The ghost’s expression softened.

“No? I suppose not…a pity then, that I can’t join you now.”

Magnus squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that soon the illusion would be gone, leaving him alone again.

“I…I’m so sorry.” He didn’t know if he was apologizing to Ragnor, Raphael, or perhaps even Camille.

Was there anyone he hadn’t failed?

“What should I have done?” He whispered.

But he was right– when he opened his eyes again, there was nothing but silence from the empty seat across from him, the glass of wine on the table sitting untouched.

---

“Ragnor, listen–”

“No, Magnus, you listen to me. You promised me, when you came here ten years ago, that you put her behind you. Now she shows up and crooks her finger at you and that’s it?”

“It’s different now.”

“Bullshit. You’re going to help her hide the bodies, and then what? Sleep with her, throw some parties together, wait a few decades for her clan to do this all over again?”

“I can’t leave them to the Clave, Ragnor!”

“And why not!?”

“She has Raphael this time. He’s the one who called me.”

Ragnor fell silent at that admission.

“…How did Raphael end up there?”

Magnus sighed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. That was the same question he had been asking himself for the last few months ever since he found out.

“Camille brought him over three years ago. He didn’t talk to me about it, probably because he knew about what went down between us.”

Ragnor sighed.

“Magnus, that’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have been caught in this mess.”

“He wanted a clan, and god only knows what Camille promised him.”

“I should have warned him.”

“And you think he’d listen?”

“I should have tried.”

(I should have given him a home.)

---

“What was she like?”

Magnus glanced over at Alec, about to deflect the question and the argument that was sure to follow. But he realized that there was no judgment or doubt in Alec’s eyes this time, just simple curiosity.

“Sorry, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” Alec scratched his head and looked away. “It’s just…I guess I’ve always wondered.”

“Why I was with her, you mean?” He laughed a bit half-heartedly. “Sherman asked the same thing when he and Raphael asked me to find her.”

“Simon.” Alec corrected half-heartedly. “And yeah, I guess so. What did you see in her?”

Magnus chuckled, then bit his lip, thinking carefully before he spoke again.

“Alexander…it was a different time. I wasn’t kidding when I said it was ancient history, almost literally. I was a different person back then. And so was she.“

(But that wasn’t really it, was it?)

"Though…maybe not quite as different as you might expect.” Magnus added.

Alec remained quiet and his gaze patient as Magnus struggled to find the right words.

“She was powerful in a world that was determined to hunt her down.” He recognized the nostalgic reverence in his voice, so different from the scorn he usually carried when he spoke about her. Perhaps it was easier to admit to this now that he knew those words would never be twisted against him.

(Perhaps time could make these memories kind again.)

“I was ashamed of who I was. I had the blood of both my parents on my hands before I was ten years old. An abomination and a murderer, and I was reminded of that every day by the silent brothers that named me and raised me.”

“Magnus–”

“No, it’s fine.” He hated talking about this part of his past. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it fine.”

“Maybe not.” Magnus shrugged off his boyfriend’s concern, unable to look Alec in the eye. “But time dulls things, and I’ve…made my peace with it now. Camille was one of the people that showed me how.

“She was selfish with all her toxic indulgences, but so beautiful in all of it. She didn’t even need an encanto to have downworlders and mundanes alike bowing at her feet. Might as well have been Queen of the Downworld.” Alec rolled his eyes at that and Magnus laughed.

“Glad to know some things don’t change.”

“Ah, yes, the eternal beauty of the undead.”

“I meant the indulgences.” Alec frowned. “Overindulged in the end with that den of hers.”

“She certainly became more…reckless.”

“That’s one way to put it. I’d call it cruel.” Alec’s eyes were just a little colder when they looked at Magnus this time, the protective shadowhunter in him showing through.

Magnus sighed.

“Alexander…shadowhunters aren’t exactly kind to people like us. The seelies create their own realm, but vampires, werewolves, and warlocks like me…we’re forced to find our place in the war between the shadowhunters and demons.”

“That doesn’t justify murdering mundanes for sport or keeping them as slaves for their blood.”

“No, it doesn’t. And I’m not trying to justify or forgive her, Alexander. But in a world that didn’t allow her a single freedom, that was disgusted with her simply for who she was, she was fearless and strong enough to throw it back in their faces.

“And she taught me to do the same. To wear my cat eyes with pride and take my place as a high warlock of the downworld.”

Alec was silent, and Magnus was afraid he said too much.

“Alec, I don’t approve of anything, anything that she’s done here it’s just-”

“No, Magnus, it’s okay, I know.”

---

“Camille, it’s not that simple. You know that I love you but I can’t do this anymore.”

“You’ll regret this Magnus. Raphael’s already left, and Ragnor and Catarina will leave you too.” She glared at him for a moment before her bitter words turned sweet.

“You’ll come back to me, Magnus. You always will. You fancy yourself a High Warlock now, but we both know you’re still just the lonely boy standing at the edge of the London skyline, waiting for me to call you down.” Her words struck a chord in him, and for a moment, he shivered, as if feeling the same chilling wind of that night again.

“No, Camille. I’m not.”

---

The sunlight was already creeping in from between the curtains by the time Magnus opened his eyes. A soft breeze drifted in from the balcony, like an old friend calling to him.

“Magnus?” A soft voice, hoarse from sleep, broke the silence.

“Go back to sleep darling. Sorry I woke you.” Magnus pressed a kiss against Alec’s forehead. As he attempted to rise, however, an arm wrapped around him tightly.

"Stay. Please?”

“…Of course.”

(It still called him sometimes, in a gust of wind so cold that it froze him down to the very bone. But he had a place to return to now, far from that distant edge.)

---

author’s notes: This was largely written back in April, 2017 based on a lot of headcanons for me on Magnus and Camille’s relationship. I wanted to take a more nuanced look at the way he might have felt for her, and…this is what happened. I found it again recently so I decided to publish it here, but I’ve been out of the loop with the SH canon for quite a long time now, so apologies if any of these details have now been jossed by canon.

#shadowhunters #t: oneshot #gen #malec #magnus bane #camille belcourt

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milk & coffee (1/1)

title: milk & coffee

pairing: Sawamiyu

rating: M

setting: Cafe AU

word count: ~2000

summary: In which Youichi has the worst luck in the world and has to step in to fix Miyuki’s mess of a relationship. And wants to wash his eyes out thoroughly after. Happy Birthday @mewyuki!!

“The scent of milk and coffee melting together…makes me feel just a little lonely.”

For Youichi, the day began the same as always in the café. He had the morning shift this entire week, and while it was always a pain getting up before the sun rose, there was something refreshing about being the first one in. The café interior was lit by the early morning glow, soft and quiet before the first rush of customers. A slight scent of milk and coffee lingered in the air, not stuffy or overwhelming the way it would be later in the day as business picked up.

He started up the espresso machines and wiped down the counters, waiting for his manager and coworkers to make their way in. Miyuki would probably be here soon– despite the carefree way he talked, he was actually quite prompt when it came to work.

He heard the staff door open to the backroom and some shuffling around before a familiar face joined him. As soon as he glanced over though, Youichi knew that shit had gone down. He wasn’t even the most observant guy, but Miyuki had dark circles beneath his eyes that even his glasses couldn’t disguise, and his hair was a mess.

“…You look like shit.”

“Thanks Mochi, still better than you.” Miyuki’s retort lacked its usual accompanying smirk, and Kuramochi couldn’t find it in himself to chew out a guy who was clearly already miserable. Even if he probably deserved it.

“Glad to see you’ve still got attitude. Can’t be that bad then.” He sighed. “Out with it, what happened? Did Sawamura finally get tired of your shit?”

He was expecting a bitter laugh or some kind of denial, but the silence that followed proved that he’d unintentionally hit the nail on the head.

“…Wait, really? What the fuck did you do Miyuki? That kid follows you around like a puppy!”

Youichi wasn’t even exaggerating. Sawamura Eijun was a university student, a baseball nut and a pitcher that Miyuki met on one of his off days at the park. They had a friendly game of catch ball that quickly turned into a heated match after Miyuki goaded the younger boy on.

From then on, much to Youichi’s annoyance, Sawamura had made it a habit to drop by the café at the end Miyuki’s shift every other day. He was always yelling for another game, a round of catch ball, and Youichi would have kicked him out if there had been any other customers around.

Youichi would never know what it was about Miyuki that this kid was so attached to, but any idiot could see that Sawamura was heads over heels. And for all that Miyuki laughed or denied it, he was falling a little at a time, charmed by Sawamura’s energy and determination. Even Youichi had softened up to the kid, allowing him an occasional free café au lait when he started coming in the morning before classes and hearing him out when he stumbled in drunk one night when Miyuki was off shift.

Youichi might have tentatively called Sawamura a friend, even if the two of them only really talked over coffee (more often than not about some baseball game on TV or the last dumb thing Miyuki had done).

So he knew better than anyone that whatever Miyuki did this time, it had to be bad. After all, Sawamura had an unusually high tolerance for Miyuki’s bullshit.

Youichi stared at Miyuki and waited, but no explanation came. Miyuki just avoided eye contact and frowned in that sulky way he did when he was angry. Youichi was close to just punching him over the head.

“Okay, well whatever happened, please fix it. Geez you look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

Miyuki did not fix it. And Sawamura Eijun stopped coming to the café.

Every day after that, Miyuki just looked steadily worse until the manager couldn’t deal with him anymore either and told him to go work in the back until he got his shit cleaned up.

No matter how Youichi tried to get him to talk, Miyuki refused to say anything or even admit that it was Sawamura who was bothering him. He even tried getting Miyuki drunk, inviting him bar-hopping after work one night, but all he got for his effort was a very heavy, sleepy Miyuki who still wouldn’t talk and proceeded to throw up all over his favorite shoes.

Miyuki was a terrible drunk.

But at least Youichi managed to dig out Sawamura’s number from Miyuki’s phone while he was sleeping like the dead. If he couldn’t talk sense into one side of this stupid, emotionally stunted couple, he was going to try the other half before Miyuki got himself fired.

“Hello?” Youichi couldn’t discern anything in the boy’s tone over the phone, but he hadn’t expected to.

“Yo Sawamura. It’s Kuramochi? Uh, from–”

“Ah, yeah, Kuramochi! Hey, how’d you get my number?”

“Miyuki gave it to me a couple weeks ago when we invited you for the game at the park.” He lied blatantly. “Anyway, I just called since I noticed you hadn’t dropped by recently?”

“Aha, I’ve just been busy. Exams and all.” Well, he wasn’t the only one blatantly lying. Sawamura’s voice had gone flat, and Youichi resisted the urge to yell at him.

“Ah, okay. Asking because Miyuki’s been a bit down recently.” Hopefully that would spark some kind of reaction at least.

“Is he now.” Sawamura sounded doubtful at best and Youichi wanted to punch someone. How could both of them be so blind.

“Yeah. He really is. Look, I don’t know what happened, and I know Miyuki’s an idiot, but…give him another chance?”

Sawamura was silent on the other end of the line, so Youichi continued. 

“Just…come over tomorrow, he’ll make a coffee for you, you can make him apologize. Because he’s stubborn, but not stupid. And he misses you.”

Sawamura was still quiet on the other end of the line but Youichi waited this time.

“…Alright.” Sawamura finally relented and Youichi sighed in relief.

“Oh, also. Let’s play again. We’ve got a high school reunion coming up and you should come along with Miyuki. He needs a pitcher so that we can beat him fair and square.” Youichi hoped the thought of baseball would cheer him up at least.

“Are you kidding? I’m not losing to anyone, and Miyuki Kazuya had better beg me if he wants me to pitch for him again.” Sawamura’s spark was back in his voice now and Youichi grinned.

“Well let’s hope he makes some damn good coffee to convince you tomorrow then.”

Miyuki had better make him some damn good coffee too because he was exhausted and done with this whole thing. This was the last time Youichi was going to get involved in Miyuki’s shit. Sawamura was actually a nice kid who deserved to be happy and Youichi would rather not see Miyuki self-destruct either, so just this once…

Now he just had to hope that Sawamura didn’t back out, and that Miyuki could stop being a jerk for three seconds. Then maybe they could kiss and make up over coffee or something gross like that.

Youichi waited the entire day nervously, barely getting through his shift without mistakes. But finally, right before closing, Sawamura did indeed show up. And Miyuki dropped three plates and almost burned himself when Sawamura ordered a drink and sat down.

Youichi dragged Miyuki into the backroom and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Don’t you dare fuck this up.”

“Kuramochi, did you–”

“I did it for your own good. Because you’re too stubborn and in denial, but Sawamura has some sense left in his head. You’d better fix this for real this time. Also, you’re closing up for me today.”

With that, he changed out of his uniform and went on his way, leaving Miyuki to deal with the rest on his own. Youichi had already done enough.

...Or he thought he’d done enough before he realized he left his wallet and his keys behind the counter. Youichi wandered around outside for a few hours, waiting until he was fairly sure Miyuki and Sawamura had settled things (or blown them up and stormed out, god knows what could happen with those two.)

He realized something was off as soon as he entered the backroom to find that the lights were still on.

Maybe Miyuki just forgot to turn them off…probably too excited to catch up with Sawamura to change properly or something.

But then he heard the voices coming in from the front. They were muffled by the backroom door, but Youichi was definitely not alone. 

“Are you sure this is–”

“Yes, for god’s sake, Sawamura just get on with-” Miyuki’s words were cut off by a gasp and a moan and, really, Youichi should have known better than to crack open the door after that.

What could he say, except curiosity killed the cat.

He didn’t know what he was expecting to see, but now he had confirmed that Miyuki was definitely not making Sawamura a coffee. Miyuki was, in fact, sitting on top of the counter and looking rather caged in by a very hungry Sawamura.

Youichi wasn’t entirely sure why he thought Sawamura was a puppy. Maybe he was an oversized puppy. Very eager, and very hungry. With fangs.

Youichi just couldn’t stop staring because he couldn’t believe they were actually doing this on the counter…yes, the café was closed and everything, but any of the staff could still just walk in. Like him. He was innocent why was he being subjugated to their–

His thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly noticed that something was dripping over the counter and was that- was that milk? And now that he had noticed, he realized that the same stuff was coating Miyuki’s chest (Sawamura had done a fine job of stripping off the apron and unbuttoning at least half the buttons down, he noted.)

Yes, Miyuki was certainly not making Sawamura a coffee. Actually, it seemed more like Sawamura was the one making the coffee. By dripping it all over Miyuki.

And now Sawamura was licking his way down, lapping up at the white that was pooling in Miyuki’s lap. Soft moans filled the room.

“Heh, better than-” Miyuki was trying to talk, his voice occasionally broken by moans. “Better than your stupid café au lait, no?”

Youichi had to give Miyuki credit for even managing to say anything through that. Sawamura, clearly displeased, quickly solved the problem by raising his head and capturing Miyuki’s mouth with his own. All Youichi could hear now were wet sounds of the two of them kissing, over and over again.

Neither of them noticed him, obsessed with trying to eat each other’s faces. Then there was a faint unzipping sound and Miyuki gasped, clutching tighter onto Sawamura’s back and–

No. God, why was he even watching this, this was just.

(The part of his brain that wasn’t deeply disturbed or completely numb from shock duly noted that Sawamura was actually more aggressive than expected. Miyuki’s grin had always seemed predatory, but Sawamura was on another level.)

That aside though, Youichi was now completely stuck. His keys were still beneath the counter where Sawamura was currently fucking his coworker. And who knew when they were going to be finished. Youichi was not going to just keep watching them, and he could hardly just barge in now.

He finally did what he should have done as soon as he realized the disgusting couple was still around. Youichi closed the door, turned off the backroom lights, and went out to call up Ryou-san who would hopefully let him crash for the night.

He tried to convince himself that he was happy for Miyuki. And Sawamura. And he probably would be as soon as he managed to forget everything he just saw.

He wanted to gouge his eyeballs out. And wash them. With soap. He also made a mental note to buy more milk and make sure whatever was left was tossed out because there was no way he was serving the customers anything that came out of the same carton.

Miyuki owed him for this forever.

bonus: When Youichi checks the next day, he realizes the milk cartons haven’t even been touched. He tries very hard not to think about where all that milk on Miyuki’s chest came from.

author’s notes: Yuki!! Happy Birthday! I didn’t realize earlier and tried to finish this really quick ;A; I hope you had a really good one, and I’m sending you lots of well-wishes.

I’m sorry this is late and it...isn’t Sawamiyu Omegaverse, I promise one day I will write that and dedicate it to you...I am...slowly ramping up to writing higher ratings. Because what is porn...Kuramochi was my scapegoat this time, but soon.

#daiya no ace #t: oneshot #sawamiyu

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color of summer (1/1)

title: color of summer

pairing: Gen, Implied Furusawa/Furumiyu

rating: G

setting: Canonverse

word count: ~1500

summary: In which Satoru overthinks everything, but is glad he came to Seidou in the end. Furuya-focused drabble.

“All of those questions that I could never answer began to take on color, one by one.”

He could barely keep his eyes open in the heavy fog of summer heat. His shirt was soaked through in sweat and his mind was trapped in a dizzy haze, all sense of time lost, but he kept running. At some point, Sawamura and the others had pulled ahead of him, their backs fading and blurring into the bright sunlight. All he knew was that he couldn’t fall behind, because if he didn’t catch them now…if he couldn’t keep his place on the mound…

Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet gave out and he found himself crashing down, cheeks scraping painfully against the dirt. The dust billowed around him, filling his eyes with tears and burning his lungs as he struggled to catch his breath. When he coughed, no sound came out and when he tried to shout towards his teammates up ahead, his voice vanished into hoarse whispers.

He clenched his fist, trying to will his legs back up, but it was as if the track had turned to quicksand, his limbs sinking deeper the more he struggled. He felt his eyes falling shut, tired of trying to blink out the onslaught of dust. Somewhere up ahead, he could hear Sawamura yelling and Miyuki laughing, the exact words drowned out by the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

"Is that the best you can do?"

The familiar voice of his captain finally formed clear words to his ears. But something was horribly off about the tone– it was missing the edge of teasing laughter the question would usually carry. When he finally forced his eyes open, the face that greeted his was not Miyuki's. Instead, Sawamura was crouched in front of him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set in a disappointed frown.

Wordlessly, his rival stood up. After a final dismissive glance, Sawamura turned around and disappeared back into the bright summer haze. Panic seized him and he struggled to get back up, to catch up.

But this time, the ground opened and something gripped his ankle, pulling him under, to a place covered in black. 

He turned and found himself staring at a painfully familiar face, a reflection that he may have seen in the mirror years ago. The younger version of himself held his gaze without blinking and offered him a baseball and mitt.

"Will you catch for me?"

He didn't have to hear the words. They were already forming in his mind, and he struggled to reply. He needed to go. There was a team waiting for him, and he couldn't stay here.

"Hey, monster rookie, you'd better wake up now!"

He blinked, confused. That shout was not what he was expecting to hear, and felt out of place in this silent darkness. The child in front of him looked equally baffled.

"Hey!"

This time, the shout clearly came from somewhere above, and the world began shaking violently. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden wind that built up around him. Somewhere nearby, a soft voice, an echo of his own, whispered to him.

“It’s okay, if you have to go. As long as you promise…”

Satoru opened his eyes to find himself staring at his captain, who was looming above him with an eyebrow raised.

"Well, good morning finally. You've got guts, napping right before practice. Did you skip your afternoon classes?"

"Mm...I guess..." Satoru sat up, shaking the grass out of his hair and rubbing his eyes. He'd intended for just a short nap through lunch, but apparently he'd overslept this time.

Miyuki laughed and leaned over to brush a leaf off his head, then offered him a hand. Satoru stared for several moments, blinking away the vestiges of his dream. The details were already fading from memory, but a part of him felt as if Miyuki would vanish if he reached out. Every limb felt cold and heavy, and Satoru was afraid he wouldn't be able to move them.

He reminded himself that that was nonsense though– it was a perfectly warm day and whatever dream he had was gone now. Somewhere far behind him.

Shaking off his lingering doubts, he accepted his captain's hand. Miyuki's palm was steady and warm, callused from practice and always ready to catch anything Satoru threw towards him. He was reluctant to let go after he pulled himself up, and when Miyuki noticed his hesitation, he smirked.

"Still out of it? It's okay, as your generous captain, I'll let you hold my hand." Miyuki glanced down at his watch. "You'll be doing laps if you make us late for practice though."

Satoru felt his face flush in embarrassment and quickly mumbled apology, releasing his grip. Miyuki laughed and clapped him on the back. Satoru had always thought Miyuki was a rather cold person, full of calculated words and feigned laughter, but somehow, Miyuki was always knew exactly where to find him. And his hand was impossibly warm.

"Come on. If you don't hurry up, Sawamura's going to steal your spot in the bullpen." Miyuki grinned. "And I wouldn't mind catching for him today, but..."

And that thought alone was all he needed to pull himself out of his thoughts and start for the baseball field. He wasn't planning on giving up the mound to anyone. Not anymore.

Miyuki certainly wasn't wrong when he said Sawamura was jumping up and down to take Satoru’s spot in pitching practice. By the time the two of them had changed and walked to the field, Sawamura was already in a yelling match with Kuramochi, with the rest of the team crowding around them, shouting and laughing.

The afternoon sun was shining bright on everyone, and Sawamura, in the center of it all, seemed to glow. Satoru found himself envying the way his rival's hair looked almost gold in the light. It made him seem even further away– even if Satoru took the mound during games, he would always feel left behind somehow, never standing there next to Sawamura.

"He's waiting for you, you know." Miyuki surprised him.

"...He's waiting for you, Miyuki-senpai." Even if Satoru wasn't going to give Sawamura the chance to pitch to him today, he quietly added in his mind. He was sure Sawamura would be quite happy to have the mound to himself– there was really no reason for him to wait for Satoru.

"Nah. He doesn't need to wait for me. He knows I'll just be sitting there in the bullpen anyway." Miyuki smirked.

Satoru blinked at that. He wasn't sure they were talking about the same thing anymore, but he couldn't follow what Miyuki was trying to say.

"...I don't understand."

"Do you want to join them?" Miyuki asked.

When Furuya didn't reply, Miyuki continued.

"I told you before, that you and Sawamura have different strengths. You guys have different ways of pitching and leading the team. But you know, he'd still be happy to have you there."

"...Mm." He wasn't sure what Miyuki meant by "happy" when he and his rival were glaring at each other or fighting over tires even on the best of days. He honestly couldn't remember the last time Sawamura smiled at him.

Both of them turned to watch the commotion as as Kuramochi caught Sawamura in a headlock and tackled him into the ground. Miyuki was laughing, while Satoru just stood quietly. It always confused him how Sawamura so effortlessly surrounded himself with teammates– Satorudidn't seem to have a place out there when there wasn't a game to be played, and an inning to protect.

After Sawamura managed to wrestle his vice-captain off, he finally noticed the two of them standing there.

"Hey Furuya!" Sawamura shouted, surprising Satoru who thought that some loud request for Miyuki to catch would be the first thing out of his mouth.

"You're late! You'd better not be slacking off or I'm going to take the ace number!"

"Well look there, someone's definitely been waiting, wouldn't you say?" Miyuki grinned.

Sawamura was frowning impatiently, arms crossed, but for the first time Satoru noticed the spark in his eyes. It was a familiar one, bright and eager, the same one he wore when facing a particularly intimidating batter. Right now, that gaze was directed straight at him, clear even through the summer haze, and Satoru wondered if maybe this was what Miyuki meant– happiness for them was in challenging each other, competing side-by-side for the chance to stand at Koshien.

He stared back at his rival for a few moments, and then walked past him towards the bullpen, Miyuki following close behind.

"I'm never giving the mound to you, Sawamura." His voice was firm, without a trace of hesitation.

I won't let you leave me behind.

"Good, I'm going to take it from you fair and square." He saw Sawamura grin from the corner of his eye, and he felt a matching one form on his own lips.

Their captain watched the exchange in quiet amusement, for once not taking the chance to goad them on.

Miyuki might be the one who always found him, but he thought that perhaps...even if he lost himself, it would be okay. He'd somehow find his way back here, with Sawamura yelling at him, glaring at him...and waiting for him.

Because there was a place he belonged now, and a pair of the brightest eyes he’d ever known would always welcome him home.

"I'm glad that I could lose my way with you, and that we could share so much."

author’s notes: An actual drabble that didn’t run over! This is only very lightly edited, and I’m sorry about any errors. I started out writing Furumiyu, switched over to gen because I didn’t quite feel the Furumiyu coming in, and then switched it over to Furusawa somehow at the end...I think everything ends up somewhere in Furusawa zone with me.

I want to say this is the last really angsty Furuya POV drabble I write...will get to work properly on my multichaps after this.

#daiya no ace #t: oneshot #gen

[suspendedsatellite]

first magnitude star (1/1)

title: first magnitude star

pairing: Furuya/Sawamura

rating: PG-13

setting: AU, Post-Canon

word count: ~3500

summary: In which Satoru no longer plays baseball, and isn’t sure how his life still fits in with Sawamura’s. Or, a long episode of miscommunication and pining.

“I’m home…” He still said it out of habit, even though there wasn’t anyone there to reply. Without bothering to turn on the lights on, he dropped his bag by the door and hung his coat over one of the chairs near the kitchen.

These days, he often thought that it was a good thing they hadn’t splurged for a bigger apartment. It was okay just like this, in a room that was small enough not to feel empty…even if he was the only one there. And he could still pay rent himself without moving or dealing with a new roommate.

He walked over to turn on the kotatsu and felt around below the blanket for the TV remote.

“Strike, and out! That was a quick turn, their relief pitcher’s first strikeout since taking the mound last inning.”

He regretted it as soon as the television turned on, screen flashing to the very game he’d wanted to avoid watching. The camera shot switched to a face far too familiar, yelling something unintelligible to his team from the dugout. He couldn’t hear what the announcer was saying anymore, probably something about whether the team could live up to the resounding confidence of their loud-mouthed ace.

He’s always been…an idiot…

He should have expected this– as much as he wanted to avoid it, to switch onto another channel for some mind-numbing weather report or daily news, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the game now. His love for baseball had never been a choice. Even after he left the mound for the last time, he had never been able to let go.

To think that once upon a time he could boast that he wasn’t interested in a game that he couldn’t play in.

But when you fall behind, all you can do is watch everyone up ahead. You thought that you were the loneliest when you were running at the very front, with no one beside you and no one ahead. But now…

He often wondered what he had done wrong. Why was it that, before he noticed, the distance between the two of them had grown and grown…until the only way he could still hear that familiar voice, bright and eager, was over the static of the television.

Did it…come down to stamina in the end? No matter how far ahead you ran, he would always surpass you. And leave you behind.

The team on television broke into a cheer as the ninth inning came to close. The announcer was excitedly talking about the excellent defense in the outfield that protected their dangerously narrow lead. But he couldn’t hear any of it, eyes fixated on only one face that was currently split into a wide grin.

Just like the sun. Blindingly bright and warm, like that first summer day in Tokyo. You never really got used to seeing that, did you?

Well. The game was finally over now. So much for not watching it, even if he only actually caught the last two innings. He switched the channel over to a weekly mystery drama that he had followed casually over the last month. It was horribly overdramatic and the killer obvious, but it usually filled the hours between getting home and going to bed.

Tonight was terrible though– he couldn’t focus on the latest episode at all. The last two plays of the game filled his mind. The pitcher’s familiar form was more polished now, and balls were released with a speed and control they had lacked back then.

Yours are still faster. But what does that matter now.

The steady improvement and the boundless energy that he had been running together with for years…for so long that he had started to take the boy beside him for granted. Until, of course, like everyone else, he left. He pulled ahead instead of falling behind perhaps. But he left all the same.

Left too many things behind.

A forgotten baseball lay at the bottom of the TV stand with a bunch of their senpai’s signatures– originally it was only supposed to be Chris-senpai’s, but Isashiki-senpai had yelled about favoritism and soon enough all the former third-years had scribbled their own notes across the baseball.

A polar bear cushion that had just appeared on his futon one day– somehow, he’d been caught staring at it during a group outing to Maruyama Zoo, and a certain loud-mouthed roommate wouldn’t admit to buying it. Similarly, several illustrated books on arctic animals had made their way onto his bookshelf without his knowledge. But they were all there, and he had treasured them all.

There was a familiar tire in the corner of the closet with a name scrawled across the inside. They had both forgotten about that– it had been the one time either of them had ever stolen something, and they argued quite a bit over proper ownership at first.

Looks like you won, in the end.

There were too many things. He couldn’t count them anymore, and didn’t want to. If he couldn’t throw them away, at least he would try not to think of them anymore.

Sometime you wonder if it still hurts, because if it does, it isn’t the type of pain you’re used to. It wasn’t like the bitter sting of losing a game, or the painful disappointment when you’ve let down your team…it isn’t the familiar envy of the pitcher standing on the mound in your place. It’s been so long since you’ve felt any of that.

It’s just numb now. Is that a kind of pain too?

His phone buzzed. He glanced down and wasn’t particularly surprised to see his former teammate’s name on the screen. Haruichi had made it a habit to text him after every game, despite the fact that he rarely replied in more than one word.

“Hey Furuya-kun, did you watch the game tonight? We won, and Eijun got pretty excited. He may have drunk a little too much though, and if the coach catches him we’ll be in trouble. Mind picking him up?”

The last question confused him, and he had to read it twice. Sawamura never drank, especially after a game. And did Sawamura not already tell them that he had moved out? It’d been months already. His phone buzzed again before he could reply.

“Please? Miyuki-senpai’s getting impatient, and none of us know where you guys live.”

It was a bad idea. It was definitely a bad idea, but.

“Okay.”

When he got downtown, he realized Haruichi really hadn’t been kidding when he said Sawamura drank too much. The pitcher was currently sound asleep, being dragged between Haruichi and Kuramochi’s shoulders.

“Yo Sawamura, wake up. We finally found you a ride home.” Kuramochi growled, shaking the guy who looked dangerously close to drooling on his shoulder.

“Mm…” The boy slept on without the slightest sign of waking.

“It’s fine, Kuramochi-senpai.” Satoru dragged Sawamura onto his own shoulder, ignoring the strange clenching of his heart as the familiar weight draped over him. He shivered as he felt the heat of Sawamura’s breath over his neck.

“Ah, thanks for this Furuya. I don’t know how you put up living with this dumbass.”

Satoru almost told him that he didn’t anymore– he hadn’t in several months already. But instead, he just nodded quietly and maneuvered Sawamura into the waiting taxi and gave the driver his address

 “Furuya-kun, let’s all have lunch sometime? I know we don’t talk much but I think Eijun would be happy if you joined us.” Haruichi told him just as they were about to leave.

He sincerely doubted that. But, as usual, he couldn’t say so out loud, so he just nodded. If Sawamura hadn’t said anything, if he didn’t say anything now…

Then what? He’ll come home again? What are you expecting from this?

The ride back was quiet, a silence broken occasionally by Sawamura’s soft snores. It was a comforting sound that Satoru hadn’t expected to hear again. As they approached the apartment, he nodded his thanks and paid their driver, getting out carefully while pulling Sawamura along with him. He stumbled a bit as he tried to balance properly, walking up the stairs with a rather heavy athlete on his back. The jostling seemed to rouse Sawamura, who begun mumbling just Satoru managed to dig out his keys from his pockets.

He had managed terrifically to forget the bag he had dropped earlier that night and tripped as soon as he closed the door behind him. He quickly waved his arms out to regain footing but Sawamura’s weight on him sent both of them crashing down. A load groan next to him confirmed that the pitcher was definitely awake now.

“What…? Ugh…” Sawamura’s form was barely visible in the dark, but Satoru could feel him slowly trying to get up and reorient himself. Their legs were tangled around each other though, something that Sawamura would notice soon.

“…Where I am, who–” Sawamura finally turned over to him. He seemed sober enough considering he had been fast asleep just minutes ago.

Remember? You knew this wasn’t going to be a good idea and now–

“Furuya!? What the hell!? Why are you here? Why am I here!?” The sudden yelling left Satoru’s ears ringing and he wasn’t sure how to answer. Instead, he reached up towards the light switch and flicked it on for the first time that night.

“Haruichi-san texted me.” Satoru untangled himself, immediately feeling colder without Sawamura’s weight on him.

“Harucchi did…? Why? What?” Sawamura scrambled up and stared at him.

Satoru shrugged.

“Whatever, I’m leaving, sorry for making you go through all the trouble.” Sawamura made a move towards the door and wobbled a bit.

Satoru reached out before he knew what he was doing and grabbed Sawamura’s wrist to stop him. Sawamura’s eyes widened and Satoru was just as surprised when the next words came out of his mouth.

“Stay. Please. There aren’t anymore trains tonight.”

Sawamura’s mouth opened and closed several times like he was about to say something, but in the end, he just glanced warily at Satoru and nodded.

“Alright…thanks. Do you still have the extra futon?”

“Yes.” Satoru sighed in relief and quickly let go of Sawamura’s wrist. His heart was beating harder than he ever remembered, and Satoru hid his hands so that Sawamura wouldn’t see them shaking.

What do you think you’re doing? Didn’t you already decide to let go?

There was some awkward shuffling back and forth as Satoru went to grab the extra futon, setting it up on the empty side of the room where Sawamura used to sleep. He left the bedroom and watched Sawamura wandering about, starting for the kitchen before changing his mind and walking over to sit at the kotatsu instead.

Tea. Right, he should be a good host and make tea, because Sawamura was a guest here now. He waited a few minutes for the water to boil, and steeped two cups of genmaicha. Sawamura was fumbling with the remote over at the table, flipping through all the late night channels before making a frustrated noise and turning off the TV.

When Satoru finally sat down and placed the two cups in front of them, an awkward silence settled over the two of them, neither willing to break it. Sawamura blew at his tea a few times but didn’t drink any, while Satoru’s own cup remained untouched.

“…It’s been a while.” Satoru tried. He was the one who asked Sawamura to stay, but he had never been good at talking.

“…Yeah.”

“You didn’t tell them you moved?”

“No. It just…didn’t really come up.” Sawamura shrugged. “Anyway, everyone’s been busy practicing. We haven’t been hanging outside much since we see each other most of the day anyway.”

“I see.”

“Everyone’s been doing alright though. We won our game today too, so that was great. How about you? How’ve you been?”

“I’m fine.” Unlike Sawamura, there was little he had to say about the last few months of his life.

“…Damnit Furuya, I am trying–” Sawamura’s voice suddenly rose and Satoru looked up, confused. Sawamura’s hand was clenched tight around his teacup, shaking just slightly.

“I’m trying to talk. Look you were the one that wanted me to stay, right? If you changed your mind I can leave– I’ll figure something out, call a taxi.”

“No, I–”

“This is always how it is with you. You never talk to me. You wanted me to leave, but had to give me the silent treatment. Why can’t you ever just say it?” He was shouting now and Satoru was completely taken aback.

“Wait, Sawamura, I never–” Satoru stopped when he realized that Sawamura’s eyes were actually red and…was he crying?

“Shit.” Sawamura rubbed at his eyes, swiping away at the tears before they could fall.

“I…” Satoru didn’t have the right words for this– he never had the right words for anything. But if he didn’t say anything now he knew wouldn’t be able to face Sawamura again.

“I didn’t want you to leave. But you were…”

Too bright.

Satoru swallowed and tried again, looking down at he tea, hoping he might find the words he was looking for somewhere in there.

“We were rivals. But we’re not anymore, and I didn’t know how to…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence.

Take away baseball, and what is left of you? There’s nothing here for him to stay for.

“I didn’t want to keep you here.”

“Yeah you didn’t want to keep me here alright.” Sawamura’s breath after that sounded almost like a laugh, a weak and humorless one.

“I still don’t understand. I asked you what was wrong. I thought you needed space. Maybe I was too loud, maybe I was, I don’t know, leaving a mess everywhere.” The last words broke and Satoru finally looked up to see that Sawamura was openly crying now.

“I thought we were okay, but then you told me that you didn’t need me here.”

“I didn’t–”

“You did, don’t you dare deny it!”

Satoru wracked his mind trying to remember what he had said. All he remembered was that Sawamura left, but…

You did. You came back from that game, came back after watching him stand on the mound that you couldn’t reach anymore, and decided. All on your own. You told him that he would be better anywhere else.

“That wasn’t–”

“I missed you. I didn’t know why not fighting for the mound apparently meant we couldn’t talk anymore.”

“Without baseball…I didn’t know what else you wanted.”

Sawamura gaped at him.

“I thought we were friends at least. Was I wrong?” Sawamura asked.

“I…” Satoru didn’t know how to admit that all he had ever known, with Sawamura or anyone else, always came down to baseball. He wasn’t sure what a friendship beyond that could mean, or if that was what he wanted from Sawamura.

“I wanted to play with you.” The words came too slowly, but Sawamura was listening for the first time tonight and Satoru had to say this. “I wanted to pitch with you, compete against you…I never thought that would change.”

“So you didn’t want anything else? Why did you ask me to find an apartment with you then?” Sawamura somehow didn’t seem angry anymore, but Satoru wasn’t sure he understood.

“It made it easier for us to train and analyze games together?”

“…I can’t believe this.” Sawamura laughed, and it didn’t sound quite as bitter as his last one.

“Hey, Furuya? Were you happy?”

“Happy?”

“When we were living together.” He thought about it, and…it had been nice having someone to greet coming home, someone to watch television with. Even if they argued all the time over who should be cooking or taking out the trash.

It wasn’t empty at the very least. When he was here, it was home.

“I think so.”

“Think?”

“It wasn’t the same as standing on the mound.”

“Of course not.” Sawamura scoffed.

Then, before Satoru could react, Sawamura was leaning over and soft lips that still tasted faintly of alcohol met his own. He couldn’t move and all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart in his ears. 

Kiss. This is a kiss, right?

For a moment, the two of them stayed there, lips just touching, neither of them attempting to move. Then, Sawamura leaned back and watched him as he scrambled to find his train of thought.

“…Furuya, do you want me to come back?” Sawamura’s voice was softer this time. “Because this is what it means to me. And if you want this, if you want me here, I need you to say it.”

Satoru didn’t know how to respond. He had never once imagined this, but perhaps he had hoped somewhere. It was cold now, without the Sawamura’s weight against him, and he almost felt the urge to kiss Sawamura again to be sure that this was real. 

He’s right in front of you now, offering to stay with you.

“I wanted you to stay.” Satoru said, looking down at his tea again. It had gone cold in his hands.

“Even if we can’t play together…I still want you to stay. It’s been empty here…without you.” He confessed.

“…Okay.”

When he looked up again, Sawamura was smiling. His eyes were still red and dangerously wet, but the smile was real and bright.

“Okay, I’ll stay. But we’ll need to talk. You’re too damn stubborn and silent and I’m not going to do this again.”

“I’ll try. I’m sorry, I’m not good at this.”

But for him, you’re willing to try. As long as he stays with you.

“It’s okay. We’ve both got stuff to figure out…just don’t shut me out like that again. I thought you wanted me gone.”

Satoru shook his head. 

“I didn’t, I just didn’t know why you would stay.”

“Baseball, or no baseball, I’m still going to be here Furuya. We’ve been rivals for long enough– we can be partners too, right?”

“Yeah…thank you.”

Sawamura flushed a bit at that.

“Err, anyway. We should probably both get some sleep. I need to run back to my place early tomorrow to change and go to practice.”

Both of them washed up, and Satoru dumped out their cold tea in the sink and turned off the kotatsu heater. As soon as they got to the bedroom, Sawamura moved his futon up against Satoru’s and fell face first into the pillow.

Satoru laid down on his own and tried to ignore the way his heart sped up thinking of Sawamura lying right next to him, closer than ever. Sawamura turned over and saw the polar bear lying next to him.

“Hey, you still have it! I remember this– you were staring at it forever when we went down to the zoo. You spent most of the day watching the polar bears.”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you like them so much?”

Satoru did a bit of a half shrug, as much as he could lying down.

“I respect them. Up there, in the cold…they seem resistant to loneliness.”

“Hmm. Well I guess you’re a bit like them. No matter what I do, even when I finally left, you never said a thing.”

“…It was lonely, though, without you.”

Sawamura was silent at that and Satoru turned over to look at him. Sawamura had shuffled up closer, until he was on the edge between their two futons, hand extended. Satoru only hesitated a moment before he did the same, and took Sawamura’s hand in his own. He could feel his face heating and looked away, hoping Sawamura wouldn’t notice it in the dark.

His hand is warm in yours, and you think…maybe this is what it feels like to catch a star. Just a little too bright and too warm, far more than you’re used to. But you’ll never let it go.

“Hey. I still want to play against you even if it’s not an official game. Next Seidou reunion, I’m going to smash you.”

Satoru glanced over and smiled for the first time since Sawamura had packed his bags and left.

“You sure about that Sawamura? You’d better be grateful to your outfield for saving your game, today. Your last pitch was terrible.”

Sawamura’s eyes widened.

“You were watching us–– hey! Hey that pitch was fine!” He protested.

Furuya hid his laughter against his pillow and, for the first time, thought that things might work out after all.

You’ll be okay, now. You’re not alone anymore.

author notes: Well this was supposed to be a drabble no longer than 1k, but it got a little bit out of hand...originally inspired because Ciel was talking about a Sarishinohara AU. And while this is definitely not a Sarishinohara AU, I wanted to explore Furusawa and how they would develop if the two of them weren’t rivals in baseball anymore.

I kept the setting vague on purpose, and didn’t talk too much about why Furuya’s not playing baseball anymore. I assume that this is later in their careers, when Eijun’s gone pro, and they moved in when they were both still playing.

#daiya no ace #furusawa #t: oneshot

[suspendedsatellite]

heat haze (1/?)

title: heat haze

pairings: Chris/Miyuki, Furuya/Sawamura

rating: PG-13

setting: AU, Meiji Restoration (~1880s, Tokyo Prefecture)

summary: In which the Seidou dojo receives a rowdy new student, Sawamura Eijun, from an ex-samurai family in the rural Nagano prefecture. Very, very slow-build, eventual Chrismiyu and Furusawa. Platonic Chrisawa, Misawa, and Furumiyu.

The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, its first rays casting over the quiet town in pale gold. The streets were still empty save for a few elderly women on their morning walks, shawls wrapped around their kimonos to keep against the morning chill. At the docks, several merchants were waiting for the fishing boats, preparing for a long day of trading ahead.

There was something comforting about the town at the crack of dawn, before the dust of carriages billowed up and the crowds filled the street with chatter. Chris took in the sight before him, stretching and nodding towards a neighbor passing by on her way to the market. Although he hadn’t had morning training in over two years, old habits died hard– he was up before the sun rose every day. Doctor Takashima was still fast asleep though, and the clinic wouldn’t open for several more hours, so Chris did his morning stretches, then busied himself dusting the signboards outside. 

“Chris-senpai!” A familiar voice called out, and Chris looked up to see his former underclassman, a shorter boy with glasses, a wide grin, and mischievous eyes.

“Miyuki. You’re here rather early– practice over already?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. While Miyuki talked carelessly at times, he was dead serious when it came to his training.

“Nah, Kataoka-sensei let us off this morning because we had spars with Inashiro yesterday.”

“And instead of going back to rest or hanging out with the rest of the dojo, you’re here to bother me?”

“Hey, I could be here to see Rei-chan. Never said anything about you.”

“At this hour though?”

“Okay, you got me.” Miyuki lifted his hands and laughed. “Here, I brought you nikuman. First batch this morning.” He tossed over a paper bag.

“Thanks. You know you don’t have to bring me food every time you come right?” Chris caught the bag, contents still warm and steaming.

Miyuki just shrugged. “They always give me a couple extra and it’s not like I can finish them myself anyway.”

“Alright then.” Chris let the topic drop and the two of them went around to the back porch to eat. He let Miyuki settle down while he went inside to make tea, and the two of them ate in quietly, watching as sun lit up the small garden behind the clinic.

Miyuki broke the silence as he finished his food.

“Actually, sensei wanted you to come over later today. We got a couple of new students last week, and one’s pretty interesting. Rural, from some ex-samurai family. Rei-chan met them when she went down to Nagano last year.”

“Hmm. I’m glad then. New students are rare these days. Why does Kataoka-sensei want me there though?” Chris had already left the dojo and hadn’t returned since the incident two years ago. Some of his former teammates like Miyuki visited occasionally, but they rarely talked about swordsmanship anymore.

“He thinks you’ll be interested. And needs someone to take the kid down a few notches.” Miyuki smirked and Chris found himself wondering why his junior didn’t just take up that particular job himself.

But before he could reply, Miyuki’s smile fell and changed to an expression that was almost sad.

“…It’s been a long time, Chris-senpai. I– we miss you.” He says as his voice loses the usual edge of laughter.

Of everyone, Chris never expected Miyuki to do this to him. Back when he left, Miyuki was the only one who accepted it without a word. The Miyuki he knew was all brutal teasing and sharp glee, and he wasn’t sure how to reply to this softer boy in front of him.

“…You know I can’t go back now, Miyuki.” He finally said slowly with a sigh.

“That’s not true.” Miyuki protested. “They’ve all left now. Azuma, and the others too.”

“I know.” He’d heard from everyone after it happened. But it didn’t change anything– there would always be another. “It doesn’t matter. Going back will just bring trouble to the dojo. The fact that they’ve left just proves that.”

Miyuki quieted, and Chris hoped for a moment that the conversation was over.

“…Yuuki-senpai and Tanba-senpai are leaving. At least come back to see them.”

But apparently Miyuki had one more card to play. That one got Chris’s attention fast.

“Wait, Tetsuya too?” Chris already knew about Tanba last week– they had remained in contact even after Chris left Seidou. Tanba’s father had fallen ill, and he was going to move back to Chounan in Chiba. But Tetsuya had been born and raised in Edo.

“Yeah, he’s going to Kyoto’s police academy. Leaving in two weeks.”

“Why? His entire family’s here in Tokyo.”

“I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to come ask him.” Miyuki’s grin was back, and Chris glared. Miyuki’s foul personality never changed, and Chris wasn’t sure why he’d bothered to ask.

He sighed. Maybe a visit wouldn’t hurt anything…it wasn’t as if he could spar with anyone anymore. He would just go see Tetsuya and Tanba, and greet Kataoka-sensei, perhaps apologize properly for everything. And while he had no interest in a bunch of loud-mouthed kids, he knew how important they were to the dojo.

Something must have given him away because Miyuki had the gall to laugh, clearly deciding that he’d won this time around. As much as Chris was reluctant to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. He could feel himself making plans already, even knowing it was probably a bad idea.

“And come see the new kid.” Miyuki added. “He really is something. Last couple days were probably the most fun I’ve had since Furuya joined. They’ve been bickering since the moment he set foot in the dojo– I’ve never heard Furuya talk more than three words at a time before he showed up. Sensei had to shut them up.”

“…Was that supposed to convince me?”

“The rowdy ones are the best.” Chris shook his head. On the contrary, he had always found himself at a loss around his more enthusiastic teammates, but to Miyuki, it was probably amusing.

“Maybe I’ll come by after the clinic closes today.” He relented. Miyuki grinned, a real smile this time that reached his eyes, and Chris found himself unable to regret agreeing to it.

“Good. We’ve still got evening practice so everyone’ll be there.” Miyuki stood up, mission completed. “I’ll run now before Rei-chan wakes up and kicks me out, but. I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Maybe.” He insisted. But Chris and Miyuki both knew that he’d never go back on a promise, even an unspoken one like this.

The sun had barely started to set when Chris found himself heading slowly towards the dojo. He hadn’t planned on coming so early into practice, but after Takashima-sensei heard he’d be visiting Seidou, she’d waved him off.

“You should head out, I’ll close up. Get there before Kataoka gets himself too worked up. And bring him this–“ She tossed Chris a paper bag with a mix of herbal medicine inside. “Tell him twice a day, otherwise he’ll die twenty years early.”

“…Regardless of what happens to this, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the sentiment.” Chris said neutrally. He could imagine Kataoka-sensei’s scowl of disgust already. The man hated what he saw as unnecessary medicines– especially Takashima-sensei’s herbal mixes.

“He’d better.” She snorted. “I’m glad you’re going back, by the way. It’ll be good for you.” She added as he was preparing to leave.

“It’s just a visit, Takashima-sensei. You know that I can’t even swing a sword properly anymore.”

“Yes. But you’re still a swordsman.”

But what good is that anymore. Chris thought. What good is a swordsman who isn’t trusted, who can’t even hold his weapon proudly.

Somehow, the trip to the dojo at the edge of town was much shorter than Chris remembered. Before he knew it, he was facing the wide double doors with the proud Seidou nameplate outside. It was strange to think of Seidou as a place he could just walk to in less than fifteen minutes…as if he could simply cross over the two years of silence with a leisurely stroll at sundown.

“Alright, start warming up!” Chris felt his entire body instinctively straighten in response to the familiar shout that greeted him as he opened the door. The bark of Kataoka’s voice was the same as ever, carrying loudly over the yard outside the dojo.

“Shit–”

The quick curse was Chris’s only warning– he was just about to head in when someone suddenly rammed into him from behind, causing him to lose his footing. He quickly twisted over to protect his right arm and fell on his back. A boy with a mop of messy brown hair landed awkwardly over his left shoulder.

“I’m sorry! Uh, I have to run but are you okay–” The boy scrambled up and offered Chris a hand.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” Chris noted the sword calluses as he accepted the helping hand and stood. A student, then. The boy was clearly in a rush, and unless Kataoka’s gone soft over the last two years, Chris knew exactly why.

“Sorry, the general’s going to kill me if I don’t get in there right now.” He bowed quickly, then turned and dashed across the courtyard. Chris watched the kid, mildly amused. So Kataoka’s a “General” now huh?

He dusted off his hands and closed the doors behind him, then took in the sight of the small courtyard leading into the main hall. Little had changed– the same cherry trees surrounding the dojo, blossoms just beginning to show, and an old well that one student had been clumsy enough to fall into somehow still stood on the far side. The stone path he walked on was well tended to, leaves and debris all swept out of the way.

All exactly the same, almost painfully so.

“You planning to come in or just stand there until practice is over?”

Chris snapped to attention immediately.

“Kataoka-sensei.” He bowed.

“It’s been a long time Chris.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“You should be. We would have welcomed you back anytime, you know.”

“I…don’t belong here anymore.”

“You’re wrong. This is still your place Chris. And there’s plenty the kids can learn from you.”

Chris finally raised his head and looked his former instructor in the eye. Kataoka hadn’t changed at all, with his sharply trimmed beard and sunglasses. He had missed this man more than he’d realized. And he hated the idea of disappointing him, but…

“I can’t. I don’t have anything I could teach them.”

“You’re much more stubborn than I remembered.” Kataoka’s sighed in annoyance. “It doesn’t matter, you’ll figure it out. Miyuki told you why I wanted you here, right?”

“Yes, he mentioned a new student?”

“Miyuki thinks the kid has some potential and he’s probably right. I want you to see him.”

Chris still didn’t understand why, but he nodded, removed his shoes at the porch, and followed Kataoka into the training hall.

As soon as Chris and Kataoka walked in, everyone stopped to stare. There were considerably less people in the hall now than there used to be– every year after the sword ban brought in fewer new students. The older students’ eyes widened as they recognized him. Miyuki seemed surprised for a moment, as if he’d actually expected Chris to back out somehow, and then grinned wide.

“Who told you to stop? Everyone back to practice, now!” Kataoka broke the silence, and everyone quickly went back to their practice swings.

“Sawamura! Get over here.” Kataoka called one of the students in the back over, and Chris was surprised to see the same boy that he had just crashed into outside.

“Yessir! What–” As soon as the boy recognized Chris, he bowed hastily. “I’m sorry for earlier!”

“…No, it’s fine.” Chris was mildly amused at this turn of events. Miyuki was definitely right about the boy’s energy.

“You’ve met already?” Kataoka raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, we bumped into each other outside.” Chris replied.

“Well then. Proper introductions are still in order. Chris, this is Sawamura Eijun. He joined us last week.”

Chris looked over the boy in front of him. Slight build, but strong, probably better agility than most the swordsmen in the room. He would need to see him practicing to get a better idea though.

“Sawamura, you’ll be working with Chris for the rest of practice. Go finish your warm-ups.” Kataoka instructed.

“Wait, I thought Miyuki was going to train with me!” Sawamura protested.

Kataoka didn’t bother replying and simply glared.

“Ugh, fine.” Seemed like Sawamura knew better than to test his luck twice. He walked off to finish his warm-ups sets, and Kataoka sighed.

“…Are you sure this is a good idea sensei?” Not only was Chris out of practice, it seemed that Sawamura was going to be a tough one to work with already.

“He needs someone. Miyuki suggested you, and I agree. Miyuki doesn’t have the temperament to work with him anyway, and I’m sure you already heard that Tanba and Yuuki will be out soon.”

“Yeah. Miyuki told me. I’ll try, but it really has been a long time.”

“Once a swordsman, always a swordsman. Especially you, Chris.” Kataoka nodded his thanks and Chris found himself unable to deny it.

Instead, Chris turned and watched Sawamura, who was doing basic swings with a frown on his face. He noticed from the corner of his eye that Miyuki was grinning, and shook his head.

Well. Maybe it’s time to get to work again.

“Oh, right. Kataoka-sensei? Takashima-sensei told me to pass this to you. Twice a day lest you die young.”

“Goddamn that woman.”

author notes: I usually avoid historical AUs because of how much research I have to do to get any vague semblance of accuracy. I honestly don’t know how far I’m going to go with this, and please take any historical descriptions here with a grain of salt since I’m definitely no expert in Japanese history.

Basically this fic takes place about 10-15-ish years into the Meiji era, when there’s a lot of changes politically and culturally in Japan, with more foreign influences, etc. Swordsmanship (kenjutsu) is on a sharp decline since the samurai were removed from power and the government enacted a Sword Ban, forbidding weapons from being carried in public. Many dojos and branches of major schools of swordsmanship are closing down due to lack of patronage.

#daiya no ace #furusawa #chrismiyu #long fic #au: heat haze #t: chapter