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saso2017_r12017-06-26 11:27 am
blueminuet) wrote in saso2017_r12017-06-26 11:27 am
Entry tags:
MAIN ROUND 1 SUBMISSION: Team The Prince of Tennis, Synchro Responsibly
TITLE: Synchro Responsibly
SERIES: The Prince of Tennis
SHIP: Kikumaru Eiji/Oishi Shuuichirou
RATING: T
CHARACTERS: Kikumaru Eiji, Oishi Shuuichirou, Fuji Shuusuke
SIDE PAIRINGS: None
MAJOR TAGS: Spoilers
ADDITIONAL TAGS: Body swap, Future Fic, Alcohol and drinking
SUMMARY: At Seigaku's fifteen year reunion, Eiji and Oishi decide to see if they can still synchro like in the old days. But when things don't go as planned, their lives become more entangled than they had counted on.
WORK COUNT: 4000 words, 5 images
SCRIPT: N/A
NOTES: Hope you enjoy!!
“This is your fault!”
“What?! You—”
Voices cut through the evening, disturbing the cicadas’ hum around a brightly-lit tennis court. Two adults shouting like angry, overgrown children, their words slicing between each other in rushed, scared clips.
“This is all your fault!!”
“How? You were—”
“—this was your idea—”
“My idea?!” The voice builds up in pitch and volume. “You were the one who suggested this!’”
Eyes narrow. “It takes two to synchro…”
The reunion had been a rush, a blur of laughter and high spirits, taking the Seigaku Nationals team back, as if the past fifteen years had disappeared and they were children again. Taka-san had been drunkenly giggling as Momoshiro worked the lock to the tennis courts open, Fuji shushing him while trying to stifle his own laugh.
They fall into an easy rhythm, the thwock of ball meeting racket is a nostalgic metronome to Eiji's ears. Surrounded by familiar sounds and familiar faces, Eiji realizes that he feels more alive, more himself, than he has in years.
It was inevitable, the slow pull—stronger than the pull of any Tezuka Zone—bringing them back to the Seigaku courts. Back home, as if they had never left.
Soon enough, the outside world comes calling. Their numbers dwindle until it’s Eiji and…
“... Hey.” Eiji approaches the net and Oishi, on the other side, walks up to meet him perfectly in step. Oishi looks a little red in the face, breath huffing from exertion. “Doing okay?”
“Doing fine,” Oishi laughs. Warmth creeps through Eiji’s body, and it all feels right somehow.
Something like hope collects in Eiji’s chest. “Hey,” he repeats, shuffling his feet. He can’t help but fidget a little, electric energy in the air.
A slow smile spreads over Oishi’s face. “Thinking what I’m thinking?”
Maybe it’s the court. Maybe it’s tonight, or the alcohol, or the way Eiji still feels so at home here, on a tennis court, waiting for Oishi to meet him halfway.
Eiji’s never been able to describe what synchro was like. Reality blurs. Very little is clear, soul and body smearing like wet paint. The only thing that matters is already there.
Eiji and Oishi find each other easily. Eiji’s curiosity and Oishi’s amazement blend together, indistinguishable and circular. Eiji remembers this, the feeling of loaning his body to someone he trusts in mind and soul…
It moves so fast.
Eiji tries to remember if it had always been like this, if Oishi always occupied so much of him.
Eiji and Oishi lose time in synchro, fused together in a dreamlike, blurred reality. Eiji moves, or Oishi moves, limbs mirrored but out of sync, a two-second hitch and Oishi, or Eiji, frowns. It used to be perfect, and seamless, and it used to cost them nothing to try. Eiji, or Oishi, leans into it, as if muscle memory would make it effortless once again, electric touch sparking hot under their skin.
It hurts more than he remembers.
Disoriented, Eiji opens his eyes, the thrumming pulse of magic disappearing. He frowns. It isn’t what it used to be.
It isn’t right.
“This is not happening!”
“That’s my line! I have to work tomorrow—”
“You have to work? You have to be me!”
“I can’t be you, I’m not a doctor—”
Eiji hears an off-brand imitation of his usual voice, Oishi Shuuichirou’s usual determination sounding shaken as he sighs. “We’ll try again. We’ll get it right.” His words echo what Eiji is thinking, but the voice is wrong, wrong. “We have to.”
“Try again. One, two, three.”
Had they needed a countdown before? Sweat pours down Eiji’s face as he stares at the opposite side of the court.
Silence stretches out. “This isn't working.” Eiji finds it hard to tell whose mouth says what. It’s late. Eiji wonders if it’s an internal problem, one where he’d forgotten what it was like to be part of a greater whole after all these years. Forgotten Golden Pair, and the unbreakable faith of being half of a two-part legend.
Maybe, it had been too long. Or it hadn’t happened at all, and their miracle had felt that way from the pinpoint intensity of youth.
“One, two, three.”
It’s getting so late, and Eiji feels exhausted.
“I have to go home,” Oishi says, voice ragged.
Eiji reaches into his pocket, and feels keys that aren’t his. But they are. The keys that go to this body, this life. “You have to go to my home. And I have to…” He fishes out the unfamiliar keys, giving them a tired look.
“Go to mine,” Oishi finishes for him.
It’s all too new, happening so quick and still wrong: the unfamiliar keys lead to an unfamiliar house, and a bed Eiji’s never seen. His head hits the pillow and that, at least, is a familiar sensation.
He hopes, beyond hope, that this is all just a bad dream.
It’s not a dream.
Eiji adjusts the stethoscope around his neck and feels like a kid playing dress-up in Oishi’s white coat.
Oishi had a blue grip around the key to his office, the same color he’d used to open and close the tennis courts. It makes Eiji smile to see it; even in little things like that, Oishi remains consistent.
He manages to log into Oishi’s computer to see his schedule for the day, and looking at the names of patients—people counting on him—he feels on the edge of panic.
“Morning, Doctor Oishi,” a nurse says brightly, and sends the first domino toppling over.
Email Subject: Kikumaru-sama’s Guide to Acting For Dummies (And Oishi)
Okay so remember when you used to lie about Tezuka’s tennis skills to encourage everyone to work harder? That’s acting. You’ll be fine, mostly ^^v Buuuuuut since you’re taking on the hardest and most honorable role (ME) attached is the promised document full of tips to help you out. I believe in you!
(attached 10_Easy_Steps_To_Acting_Like_Kikumaru_Eiji.docx)
Oishi has done some hard things in his life, but pretending to be Eiji tops them all. He dodges a dozen casual touches and flirtatious glances just trying to find his way to hair and makeup.
He texts Eiji and gets an immediate response.
“Eiji…” Oishi was prepared to put up with some level of tactile interaction, given how much Eiji drew on that, but getting kissed on the cheek for a photo-op without warning isn’t what Oishi expected. Something about it rubs Oishi the wrong way, but there’s no time to dwell.
“Talking to yourself again, Kikumaru-san? Also, is that a new phone?”
The makeup artist leans over his shoulder and Oishi quickly pockets his phone with a wide smile to hopefully avoid more damage to Eiji’s reputation.
Hopefully.
Oishi’s body is weird. It’s not that it’s weak or bad, but it’s not Eiji’s.
He feels it in the small things, like the way he craves caffeine for the first time in his life. Eiji wonders if he would have known these tidbits if they’d stayed in touch over the years, and he keeps the details close, just in case.
Eiji goes a little overboard buying kitchenware for Oishi’s apartment, and while Oishi continues to stare at them with some unreadable mix of confusion and—perhaps—fear, he says nothing negative about it.
“Oishi,” Eiji calls over his shoulder, “pour us some wine!”
He can hear Oishi shuffle around, opening and shutting drawers and humming confusedly.
“It’s okay, partner.” The nickname slips out, unused but familiar, and Eiji tries to pretend the sudden heat in his face is from the stove. “I got you one. It’s in the drawer.” Eiji bumps at the drawer with his hip, grinning as Oishi fishes out a corkscrew. “You know how to use it, right?”
“I’m a doctor,” Oishi replies, injured.
“You didn’t have one before, I’m just checking.” Eiji snickers.
Oishi grumbles slightly, but sets to work opening the bottle.
“Did you say something?” Eiji turns around tilting his head, tongue between his teeth, and Oishi can’t help but laugh. Eiji raises his eyebrows. “Hearing me… you?? Ugh, whatever, hearing you as me laugh is weird.” Eiji reaches for the glass Oishi hands him and mumbles into the rim. “It sounds different inside my head.”
“Hearing you talk as me is weird too,” Oishi says, “but I’m learning a lot about myself that I didn’t know. Like, um…” Oishi gestures to the soft shirt Eiji had found tucked in the back of Oishi’s drawers. “The fact my shirts are more fitted than I thought they were. That’s… something positive.”
Eiji rolls his eyes and slides a few dishes onto the table with a snort. “Are you checking me out? Or should I say checking yourself out?? I’m not sure if I should be offended or not when you have the privilege of haunting the body of Kikumaru Eiji.”
“Ohhh, so now it’s haunting, huh?”
Eiji sticks his tongue out and Oishi has never seen himself look so childish. It’s cute. “Stop making me look cute.”
“You’re cute? I’m cute!”
“Yeah!” Eiji is treated to the sight of his own face blushing. He can’t recall a time that he’s seen himself turn red, and wonders if Oishi feels the same watching the warmth spread down his face and neck. For the first time in years, Eiji feels comfortably at home, like he’s finally back on the path that feels right. It scares him and he reaches for his wine glass again.
They settle into a companionable silence as Eiji plates their dinner. It’s a scene that Eiji would have easily imagined fifteen years ago, when he pictured his future. His future back then always had Oishi in it and he wonders what he would tell his teenage self now.
“Shall we eat?” Eiji asks, breaking the silence, and in return is treated to a smile.
They end up on the floor next to each other after dinner and three bottles of wine. Eiji laughs, for once not the lightweight of the two. Oishi lists his grievances about Eiji’s castmates, to Eiji’s endless amusement.
“They’re gooood people, Oishi. Trust me, like you used to.” The words slide out of his mouth, completely uninhibited. Eiji misses the soft look Oishi gives him.
“I do trust you, Eiji. I always have. But I also know that you’re a good person that people would easily take advantage of.”
Eiji rolls over and, in an attempt to pat, smacks a hand over his face. The sound makes him wince even though he can’t feel it. “You worry too much, Shuuichirou.” It’s been so long since he’s said that name out loud and it pulls at his heart. Or is it Oishi’s heart? Did it even matter anymore?
Breaking his thought spiral, Eiji watches Oishi gently pull down his hand and hold it between his own. It’s odd to feel how cold his own hands are, and an old memory of Oishi teasing him about having cold hands but a warm heart makes him wriggle his fingers and smile.
“What happened to us, Eiji?”
It’s a question that feels like a punch to the gut, and any buzz that Eiji had melts away.
“We were busy. We grew up. We grew apart.” Cliches fly out of his mouth too easily. “Is that what you want to hear, Oishi?”
Oishi says nothing.
Eiji feels like the world collapses inward, mind jerked back to all those years ago when they talked about having different dreams but still being friends, still being the golden pair. Back then, when they were young, that had been enough. Back then, as long as Oishi was next to him, it was more than enough.
Eventually, Oishi wordlessly pulls Eiji in for a hug. “I don’t know.”
Eiji rubs his back and tries to ignore how perfectly his body still fits in Oishi’s arms.
Fuji’s voice is like a steady buzz, familiar yet rattling off things from conversations that Oishi hadn’t been a part of, laughing lightly at jokes that clearly Eiji would have been privy to, but that leave Oishi in the dark.
Oishi nods along, gripping the extra sweet raspberry iced tea that Eiji texted him to order. It’s a wonder how Eiji keeps his teeth so healthy when Oishi can feel the fuzz building on his teeth after a sip.
Fuji tilts his head, eyebrow raising sharply over his forehead. “You know, Eiji, you’ve been acting strange today.”
“O-oh? Have I?” The cafe is thankfully crowded enough that Oishi can pretend to be distracted by the people around them and not trapped by the questioning stare he sees out of the corner of his eye.
“Is it Oishi?”
Hearing his name makes Oishi whip his head around, but he quickly tries to cover his initial panic with an Eiji-like laugh. “Oishi? What does he have to do with anything?”
Fuji reaches over and gently adjusts Oishi’s bangs, a gesture Oishi would watch happen in envy when they all used to hang out. “I know you were nervous to see Oishi again, but now you’re acting even stranger than you were before the reunion. Did seeing him really affect you that much?”
Oishi isn’t sure how to respond. Eiji had been nervous to see him? There’s no way he can text Eiji for an answer because this is obviously something he shouldn’t know about… unless Eiji wanted him to know. But then what would that mean if he did?
“Eiji?” Fuji’s forehead creases. “Are you okay?”
“I… don’t know.” Oishi picks his words carefully, but ends up echoing exactly what he said to Eiji the night before.
They finish their drinks in silence and when Fuji hugs him goodbye, Oishi’s arms automatically curl tightly around Fuji’s waist. It’s so incredibly warm and safe; Oishi can feel the love and care the two have for each other and finds himself yearning for something similar. Not necessarily from Fuji but… from someone. Maybe—
“He misses you too, you know.” Fuji whispers in his ear. “I’d give it another shot.”
Fuji backs away and pats Oishi’s cheek with a smile. Bewildered, Oishi blinks and watches him go, and wonders, vaguely, if he knows. But if there was anyone to know… it would be Fuji Shuusuke.
Eiji sits across a candlelit table from a woman he’s never met, and tries not to give anything away. He tries not to imagine what Oishi might be doing in response to her smile. “Thanks for meeting me,” he says. Oishi would want to sound friendly.
“Thank you,” she replies, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
She’s pretty.
Despite priding himself on his charm, his heart isn’t really in it tonight, but his words never fail to drag smiles out of her anyway. That was always Oishi’s specialty. Sweeping you right off your feet when you least expect it.
Eiji can imagine Oishi here too easily. He doesn’t like it, the feeling that this could be the cusp of something irreversibly good.
Oishi wouldn’t run, Eiji thinks, and ditch a perfectly nice girl. But then again, Oishi wouldn't do a lot of things that Eiji would. Eiji wishes he was anywhere but here… Or rather, that someone else was here, sitting on the other side of the candlelight.
He feels a pull, a pull to get his life to this point, this perfect image in his mind. It’s the same pull he’s always felt around Oishi, the way a magnet is drawn north without question.
“Sorry,” Eiji finally says, and Oishi's voice sounds rough, even to his own ears. “I don’t think this will work out.”
Oishi can’t sleep. His eyes are drawn to the pictures and playbills hanging on the bedroom wall, just as he’s always been magnetically drawn to Eiji’s smiles. Amidst all the pictures, there’s a shadowbox, with their nationals medal perfectly preserved. And tucked into the frame of the glass, there’s a picture… them. The picture itself is a little frayed around the edges, so Oishi handles it with care.
He can’t even remember when this picture was taken, but it doesn’t matter when he can recall the way he used to smile this exact way whenever Eiji was around. He feels something like pride, but it edges on guilt when he compares the picture of the two of them to the rest and sees that Eiji’s smile doesn’t reach quite as wide as it does when he’s next to Oishi.
It’s nice to know that Eiji has still thought so highly of him over the years. That this picture, that their medal, is still important enough to be placed next to his family, his career, his new adult life. The same question ‘What happened to us?’ goes through his head as he places a hand over the medal.
Oishi decides that he doesn’t want an answer anymore.
The answer is waiting for him, here, in the present.
Eiji knows that Oishi, for all his practicalities, lives a little in his head. He’s a worrier, a habit borne from simply caring too much, and Eiji can see its effects throughout Oishi’s life. The way his friends take care of him, and the way Oishi's nurses talk about him—Eiji knows better than anyone that Oishi is painfully, terribly easy to love. But, Eiji thinks fiercely, I loved him first.
He digs through drawers, looking for something he hasn’t seen, but instinctually knows is there. He pulls out a familiar jersey, heart in his throat, the proud blue still bright and unfaded like the day Oishi had received it. It doesn’t feel like years had passed, not with this jersey in his hands. The years fall away, and Eiji feels like he’s young again, with infinite possibilities before him.
He fists the jersey in his hands, and makes a decision.
The gates are unlocked by the time Oishi gets to Seigaku.
It might be his own body spread out against the court, but what he sees is Eiji, tape on his cheek and heart on his sleeve. Oishi takes a moment before walking over and sitting next to him.
“Hey.”
Eiji blinks at him. “Hey.”
They sit there, transfixed, lost in the moment for a second. The fact that they ended up here, of all places…
“I ruined your date,” Eiji says, breaking the silence.
“Did you? I hope you didn’t get water thrown on you.”
Eiji sits up and elbows him. “I wasn’t rude!! I just… I couldn’t. I’m sure if you call her back and say that you were feeling sick or something, she would give you a second chance. She was very kind…”
“Hmm, maybe you should date her then.”
“Oishi, please, not now.”
For a moment, it’s easy to pretend that they’re themselves again, that none of this ridiculous switching happened. Or that they’re fifteen and shy, scared of the future ahead of them.
“Hey Eiji, do you regret anything in your life?”
“Don’t you? No one lives a perfect life, Oishi.”
Oishi nudges him. “Well, you’ve got me there… I do regret things. I’ve made mistakes over and over again and let people come and go out of my life without a care. But you, Eiji, I never realized how much I regretted losing you from my life until now.”
“Oishi.”
“No, seriously. Even if we hadn’t switched bodies, being able to experience you again; your smile, your laugh… I know I’m over ten years late, but…”
“Oishi.”
“Eiji.”
Their hands slot together, just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, and it’s like old times. They don’t have to say a word, the sensation of synchro flowing between them. Emotions blur, whether it’s Eiji’s pure joy or the comfort of Oishi’s strength, no one would be able to pick out a single emotion except for one.
Love.
When they pull away, it’s still just Oishi and Eiji, just how it always should have been. They lean into each other, foreheads bumping together, the two of them entangling, as they always have.
“I’m not going to cry this time.” Eiji says, but Oishi can see the clear hints of tears in his eyes.
“I love you. I should have said it to you a long time ago.”
It’s easy, so incredibly easy, to lean in and kiss him, curling lips pressing together, overflowing with joy and relief.
Oishi pulls back first, standing and helping Eiji to his feet. A beat passes before Eiji grins, jumping blindly at Oishi who, despite the years between them, catches him easily. Their lips meet again, even as the sky darkens around them.
Eiji pulls away, their faces still nearly touching as Eiji combs fingers through Oishi’s hair and laughs.
“What?” Oishi asks still smiling, still cradling Eiji close.
Eiji shakes his head.
“Eiji. We just bared our souls to each other, what more is there to hide?”
“Mmm, just thinking about your hair. It really does look nicer without the gel.”
Oishi’s face goes sober. “Kikumaru Eiji, I love you, but we need to set up some serious boundaries.”
SERIES: The Prince of Tennis
SHIP: Kikumaru Eiji/Oishi Shuuichirou
RATING: T
CHARACTERS: Kikumaru Eiji, Oishi Shuuichirou, Fuji Shuusuke
SIDE PAIRINGS: None
MAJOR TAGS: Spoilers
ADDITIONAL TAGS: Body swap, Future Fic, Alcohol and drinking
SUMMARY: At Seigaku's fifteen year reunion, Eiji and Oishi decide to see if they can still synchro like in the old days. But when things don't go as planned, their lives become more entangled than they had counted on.
WORK COUNT: 4000 words, 5 images
SCRIPT: N/A
NOTES: Hope you enjoy!!
“This is your fault!”
“What?! You—”
Voices cut through the evening, disturbing the cicadas’ hum around a brightly-lit tennis court. Two adults shouting like angry, overgrown children, their words slicing between each other in rushed, scared clips.
“This is all your fault!!”
“How? You were—”
“—this was your idea—”
“My idea?!” The voice builds up in pitch and volume. “You were the one who suggested this!’”
Eyes narrow. “It takes two to synchro…”
The reunion had been a rush, a blur of laughter and high spirits, taking the Seigaku Nationals team back, as if the past fifteen years had disappeared and they were children again. Taka-san had been drunkenly giggling as Momoshiro worked the lock to the tennis courts open, Fuji shushing him while trying to stifle his own laugh.
They fall into an easy rhythm, the thwock of ball meeting racket is a nostalgic metronome to Eiji's ears. Surrounded by familiar sounds and familiar faces, Eiji realizes that he feels more alive, more himself, than he has in years.
It was inevitable, the slow pull—stronger than the pull of any Tezuka Zone—bringing them back to the Seigaku courts. Back home, as if they had never left.
Soon enough, the outside world comes calling. Their numbers dwindle until it’s Eiji and…
“... Hey.” Eiji approaches the net and Oishi, on the other side, walks up to meet him perfectly in step. Oishi looks a little red in the face, breath huffing from exertion. “Doing okay?”
“Doing fine,” Oishi laughs. Warmth creeps through Eiji’s body, and it all feels right somehow.
Something like hope collects in Eiji’s chest. “Hey,” he repeats, shuffling his feet. He can’t help but fidget a little, electric energy in the air.
A slow smile spreads over Oishi’s face. “Thinking what I’m thinking?”
Maybe it’s the court. Maybe it’s tonight, or the alcohol, or the way Eiji still feels so at home here, on a tennis court, waiting for Oishi to meet him halfway.
Eiji’s never been able to describe what synchro was like. Reality blurs. Very little is clear, soul and body smearing like wet paint. The only thing that matters is already there.
Eiji and Oishi find each other easily. Eiji’s curiosity and Oishi’s amazement blend together, indistinguishable and circular. Eiji remembers this, the feeling of loaning his body to someone he trusts in mind and soul…
It moves so fast.
Eiji tries to remember if it had always been like this, if Oishi always occupied so much of him.
Eiji and Oishi lose time in synchro, fused together in a dreamlike, blurred reality. Eiji moves, or Oishi moves, limbs mirrored but out of sync, a two-second hitch and Oishi, or Eiji, frowns. It used to be perfect, and seamless, and it used to cost them nothing to try. Eiji, or Oishi, leans into it, as if muscle memory would make it effortless once again, electric touch sparking hot under their skin.
It hurts more than he remembers.
Disoriented, Eiji opens his eyes, the thrumming pulse of magic disappearing. He frowns. It isn’t what it used to be.
It isn’t right.
“This is not happening!”
“That’s my line! I have to work tomorrow—”
“You have to work? You have to be me!”
“I can’t be you, I’m not a doctor—”
Eiji hears an off-brand imitation of his usual voice, Oishi Shuuichirou’s usual determination sounding shaken as he sighs. “We’ll try again. We’ll get it right.” His words echo what Eiji is thinking, but the voice is wrong, wrong. “We have to.”
“Try again. One, two, three.”
Had they needed a countdown before? Sweat pours down Eiji’s face as he stares at the opposite side of the court.
Silence stretches out. “This isn't working.” Eiji finds it hard to tell whose mouth says what. It’s late. Eiji wonders if it’s an internal problem, one where he’d forgotten what it was like to be part of a greater whole after all these years. Forgotten Golden Pair, and the unbreakable faith of being half of a two-part legend.
Maybe, it had been too long. Or it hadn’t happened at all, and their miracle had felt that way from the pinpoint intensity of youth.
“One, two, three.”
It’s getting so late, and Eiji feels exhausted.
“I have to go home,” Oishi says, voice ragged.
Eiji reaches into his pocket, and feels keys that aren’t his. But they are. The keys that go to this body, this life. “You have to go to my home. And I have to…” He fishes out the unfamiliar keys, giving them a tired look.
“Go to mine,” Oishi finishes for him.
It’s all too new, happening so quick and still wrong: the unfamiliar keys lead to an unfamiliar house, and a bed Eiji’s never seen. His head hits the pillow and that, at least, is a familiar sensation.
He hopes, beyond hope, that this is all just a bad dream.
It’s not a dream.
| Oishi: Eiji… why do you have twelve kinds of toothpaste? |
| Eiji: says the man with 20 million different hair gels |
| Oishi: Okay. Fair. But speaking of hair, how do you make yours so… flippy? |
| Eiji: the round brush and hairdryer am i supposed to use the super industrial gel for yours??? |
| Oishi: Yes, just slick it back, it’s not hard. |
| Eiji: what if I just comb it back without gel? it kinda looks nicer |
| Oishi: … |
| Eiji: im js!!!! undercuts are in u know …oishi? ooooooishi |
| Oishi: Can I put your hair in a ponytail? It’s almost long enough… |
| Eiji: noooooooooo!!!! |
Eiji adjusts the stethoscope around his neck and feels like a kid playing dress-up in Oishi’s white coat.
Oishi had a blue grip around the key to his office, the same color he’d used to open and close the tennis courts. It makes Eiji smile to see it; even in little things like that, Oishi remains consistent.
He manages to log into Oishi’s computer to see his schedule for the day, and looking at the names of patients—people counting on him—he feels on the edge of panic.
“Morning, Doctor Oishi,” a nurse says brightly, and sends the first domino toppling over.
| Eiji: OISHI |
| Oishi: What? I’m busy living your life. |
| Eiji: HELP IM NOT A DOCTOR |
| Oishi: Call out sick. Why didn’t you call out sick? |
| Eiji: HOW ARE YOU A DOCTOR |
| Oishi: Eiji… |
| Eiji: HELPPPP |
| Oishi: Wait. What are you doing? |
| Eiji: IM HIDING IN A JANITOR'S CLOSET TEXTING YOU DUH |
| Oishi: Say you're sick. Cough a little. Don't talk to my patients. Wait, why is it stage left and right? Why not just left and right? Why is your life so confusing? |
| Eiji: well my left is the stage right and house right is stage left its simple |
| Oishi: THIS ISN'T SIMPLE Nothing about this is simple. |
| Eiji: :(((((((((((( hold on i’ll send you an email like… a dummies guide to acting but acting like me then you can send me one for you!!!! |
| Oishi: … Eiji, I can’t give you doctor cheat codes. It’s not that easy. Just enjoy the only vacation I’ll have for the next five years for me. |
Email Subject: Kikumaru-sama’s Guide to Acting For Dummies (And Oishi)
Okay so remember when you used to lie about Tezuka’s tennis skills to encourage everyone to work harder? That’s acting. You’ll be fine, mostly ^^v Buuuuuut since you’re taking on the hardest and most honorable role (ME) attached is the promised document full of tips to help you out. I believe in you!
(attached 10_Easy_Steps_To_Acting_Like_Kikumaru_Eiji.docx)
Oishi has done some hard things in his life, but pretending to be Eiji tops them all. He dodges a dozen casual touches and flirtatious glances just trying to find his way to hair and makeup.
He texts Eiji and gets an immediate response.
| Eiji: did you even read my doc :( i spent a lot of time on that you know like… 6 whole minutes anyway i warned you! “#9: Kikumaru-sama loves affection, particularly the physical kind, so expect lots of hugs and sometimes kisses from costars!! They are all harmless and most are secretly married, so don’t panic ^^v It’s all for publicity.” |
“Eiji…” Oishi was prepared to put up with some level of tactile interaction, given how much Eiji drew on that, but getting kissed on the cheek for a photo-op without warning isn’t what Oishi expected. Something about it rubs Oishi the wrong way, but there’s no time to dwell.
“Talking to yourself again, Kikumaru-san? Also, is that a new phone?”
The makeup artist leans over his shoulder and Oishi quickly pockets his phone with a wide smile to hopefully avoid more damage to Eiji’s reputation.
Hopefully.
| Eiji: hey oishi do you ever like… cook |
| Oishi: You mean at home? |
| Eiji: yeah!!!! you have nothing in your kitchen!! you have 1 set of chopsticks, 1 bowl, and a couple plates dont you have company ever??!?!?! |
| Oishi: Well, I usually get takeout. And my friends know I can’t cook, so. No, not really. |
| Eiji: ……………………… |
| Oishi: Sorry?? |
| Eiji: tomorrow night you, me, your apartment im teaching you how to cook |
Oishi’s body is weird. It’s not that it’s weak or bad, but it’s not Eiji’s.
He feels it in the small things, like the way he craves caffeine for the first time in his life. Eiji wonders if he would have known these tidbits if they’d stayed in touch over the years, and he keeps the details close, just in case.
Eiji goes a little overboard buying kitchenware for Oishi’s apartment, and while Oishi continues to stare at them with some unreadable mix of confusion and—perhaps—fear, he says nothing negative about it.
“Oishi,” Eiji calls over his shoulder, “pour us some wine!”
He can hear Oishi shuffle around, opening and shutting drawers and humming confusedly.
“It’s okay, partner.” The nickname slips out, unused but familiar, and Eiji tries to pretend the sudden heat in his face is from the stove. “I got you one. It’s in the drawer.” Eiji bumps at the drawer with his hip, grinning as Oishi fishes out a corkscrew. “You know how to use it, right?”
“I’m a doctor,” Oishi replies, injured.
“You didn’t have one before, I’m just checking.” Eiji snickers.
Oishi grumbles slightly, but sets to work opening the bottle.
“Did you say something?” Eiji turns around tilting his head, tongue between his teeth, and Oishi can’t help but laugh. Eiji raises his eyebrows. “Hearing me… you?? Ugh, whatever, hearing you as me laugh is weird.” Eiji reaches for the glass Oishi hands him and mumbles into the rim. “It sounds different inside my head.”
“Hearing you talk as me is weird too,” Oishi says, “but I’m learning a lot about myself that I didn’t know. Like, um…” Oishi gestures to the soft shirt Eiji had found tucked in the back of Oishi’s drawers. “The fact my shirts are more fitted than I thought they were. That’s… something positive.”
Eiji rolls his eyes and slides a few dishes onto the table with a snort. “Are you checking me out? Or should I say checking yourself out?? I’m not sure if I should be offended or not when you have the privilege of haunting the body of Kikumaru Eiji.”
“Ohhh, so now it’s haunting, huh?”
Eiji sticks his tongue out and Oishi has never seen himself look so childish. It’s cute. “Stop making me look cute.”
“You’re cute? I’m cute!”
“Yeah!” Eiji is treated to the sight of his own face blushing. He can’t recall a time that he’s seen himself turn red, and wonders if Oishi feels the same watching the warmth spread down his face and neck. For the first time in years, Eiji feels comfortably at home, like he’s finally back on the path that feels right. It scares him and he reaches for his wine glass again.
They settle into a companionable silence as Eiji plates their dinner. It’s a scene that Eiji would have easily imagined fifteen years ago, when he pictured his future. His future back then always had Oishi in it and he wonders what he would tell his teenage self now.
“Shall we eat?” Eiji asks, breaking the silence, and in return is treated to a smile.
They end up on the floor next to each other after dinner and three bottles of wine. Eiji laughs, for once not the lightweight of the two. Oishi lists his grievances about Eiji’s castmates, to Eiji’s endless amusement.
“They’re gooood people, Oishi. Trust me, like you used to.” The words slide out of his mouth, completely uninhibited. Eiji misses the soft look Oishi gives him.
“I do trust you, Eiji. I always have. But I also know that you’re a good person that people would easily take advantage of.”
Eiji rolls over and, in an attempt to pat, smacks a hand over his face. The sound makes him wince even though he can’t feel it. “You worry too much, Shuuichirou.” It’s been so long since he’s said that name out loud and it pulls at his heart. Or is it Oishi’s heart? Did it even matter anymore?
Breaking his thought spiral, Eiji watches Oishi gently pull down his hand and hold it between his own. It’s odd to feel how cold his own hands are, and an old memory of Oishi teasing him about having cold hands but a warm heart makes him wriggle his fingers and smile.
“What happened to us, Eiji?”
It’s a question that feels like a punch to the gut, and any buzz that Eiji had melts away.
“We were busy. We grew up. We grew apart.” Cliches fly out of his mouth too easily. “Is that what you want to hear, Oishi?”
Oishi says nothing.
Eiji feels like the world collapses inward, mind jerked back to all those years ago when they talked about having different dreams but still being friends, still being the golden pair. Back then, when they were young, that had been enough. Back then, as long as Oishi was next to him, it was more than enough.
Eventually, Oishi wordlessly pulls Eiji in for a hug. “I don’t know.”
Eiji rubs his back and tries to ignore how perfectly his body still fits in Oishi’s arms.
| Oishi: Hey, I need a favor. Like a Big One. |
| Eiji: NAME IT!!!!! |
| Oishi: Go on a date for me. |
| Eiji: good joke oishi whats the favor???? |
| Oishi: I’m not joking. I forgot to ask you last night I’ve put it off for three months. Please, Eiji. |
| Eiji: … email me the details youll owe me for life!!!! |
| Oishi: Deal. |
| Eiji: WAIT NO fuji wants to hang out |
| Oishi: … |
| Eiji: i owe fuji for something you meet with fuji i go on your date |
| Oishi: If I die... It’s your own blood on your hands. |
| Eiji: deal |
Fuji’s voice is like a steady buzz, familiar yet rattling off things from conversations that Oishi hadn’t been a part of, laughing lightly at jokes that clearly Eiji would have been privy to, but that leave Oishi in the dark.
Oishi nods along, gripping the extra sweet raspberry iced tea that Eiji texted him to order. It’s a wonder how Eiji keeps his teeth so healthy when Oishi can feel the fuzz building on his teeth after a sip.
Fuji tilts his head, eyebrow raising sharply over his forehead. “You know, Eiji, you’ve been acting strange today.”
“O-oh? Have I?” The cafe is thankfully crowded enough that Oishi can pretend to be distracted by the people around them and not trapped by the questioning stare he sees out of the corner of his eye.
“Is it Oishi?”
Hearing his name makes Oishi whip his head around, but he quickly tries to cover his initial panic with an Eiji-like laugh. “Oishi? What does he have to do with anything?”
Fuji reaches over and gently adjusts Oishi’s bangs, a gesture Oishi would watch happen in envy when they all used to hang out. “I know you were nervous to see Oishi again, but now you’re acting even stranger than you were before the reunion. Did seeing him really affect you that much?”
Oishi isn’t sure how to respond. Eiji had been nervous to see him? There’s no way he can text Eiji for an answer because this is obviously something he shouldn’t know about… unless Eiji wanted him to know. But then what would that mean if he did?
“Eiji?” Fuji’s forehead creases. “Are you okay?”
“I… don’t know.” Oishi picks his words carefully, but ends up echoing exactly what he said to Eiji the night before.
They finish their drinks in silence and when Fuji hugs him goodbye, Oishi’s arms automatically curl tightly around Fuji’s waist. It’s so incredibly warm and safe; Oishi can feel the love and care the two have for each other and finds himself yearning for something similar. Not necessarily from Fuji but… from someone. Maybe—
“He misses you too, you know.” Fuji whispers in his ear. “I’d give it another shot.”
Fuji backs away and pats Oishi’s cheek with a smile. Bewildered, Oishi blinks and watches him go, and wonders, vaguely, if he knows. But if there was anyone to know… it would be Fuji Shuusuke.
Eiji sits across a candlelit table from a woman he’s never met, and tries not to give anything away. He tries not to imagine what Oishi might be doing in response to her smile. “Thanks for meeting me,” he says. Oishi would want to sound friendly.
“Thank you,” she replies, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
She’s pretty.
Despite priding himself on his charm, his heart isn’t really in it tonight, but his words never fail to drag smiles out of her anyway. That was always Oishi’s specialty. Sweeping you right off your feet when you least expect it.
Eiji can imagine Oishi here too easily. He doesn’t like it, the feeling that this could be the cusp of something irreversibly good.
Oishi wouldn’t run, Eiji thinks, and ditch a perfectly nice girl. But then again, Oishi wouldn't do a lot of things that Eiji would. Eiji wishes he was anywhere but here… Or rather, that someone else was here, sitting on the other side of the candlelight.
He feels a pull, a pull to get his life to this point, this perfect image in his mind. It’s the same pull he’s always felt around Oishi, the way a magnet is drawn north without question.
“Sorry,” Eiji finally says, and Oishi's voice sounds rough, even to his own ears. “I don’t think this will work out.”
Oishi can’t sleep. His eyes are drawn to the pictures and playbills hanging on the bedroom wall, just as he’s always been magnetically drawn to Eiji’s smiles. Amidst all the pictures, there’s a shadowbox, with their nationals medal perfectly preserved. And tucked into the frame of the glass, there’s a picture… them. The picture itself is a little frayed around the edges, so Oishi handles it with care.
He can’t even remember when this picture was taken, but it doesn’t matter when he can recall the way he used to smile this exact way whenever Eiji was around. He feels something like pride, but it edges on guilt when he compares the picture of the two of them to the rest and sees that Eiji’s smile doesn’t reach quite as wide as it does when he’s next to Oishi.
It’s nice to know that Eiji has still thought so highly of him over the years. That this picture, that their medal, is still important enough to be placed next to his family, his career, his new adult life. The same question ‘What happened to us?’ goes through his head as he places a hand over the medal.
Oishi decides that he doesn’t want an answer anymore.
The answer is waiting for him, here, in the present.
Eiji knows that Oishi, for all his practicalities, lives a little in his head. He’s a worrier, a habit borne from simply caring too much, and Eiji can see its effects throughout Oishi’s life. The way his friends take care of him, and the way Oishi's nurses talk about him—Eiji knows better than anyone that Oishi is painfully, terribly easy to love. But, Eiji thinks fiercely, I loved him first.
He digs through drawers, looking for something he hasn’t seen, but instinctually knows is there. He pulls out a familiar jersey, heart in his throat, the proud blue still bright and unfaded like the day Oishi had received it. It doesn’t feel like years had passed, not with this jersey in his hands. The years fall away, and Eiji feels like he’s young again, with infinite possibilities before him.
He fists the jersey in his hands, and makes a decision.
The gates are unlocked by the time Oishi gets to Seigaku.
It might be his own body spread out against the court, but what he sees is Eiji, tape on his cheek and heart on his sleeve. Oishi takes a moment before walking over and sitting next to him.
“Hey.”
Eiji blinks at him. “Hey.”
They sit there, transfixed, lost in the moment for a second. The fact that they ended up here, of all places…
“I ruined your date,” Eiji says, breaking the silence.
“Did you? I hope you didn’t get water thrown on you.”
Eiji sits up and elbows him. “I wasn’t rude!! I just… I couldn’t. I’m sure if you call her back and say that you were feeling sick or something, she would give you a second chance. She was very kind…”
“Hmm, maybe you should date her then.”
“Oishi, please, not now.”
For a moment, it’s easy to pretend that they’re themselves again, that none of this ridiculous switching happened. Or that they’re fifteen and shy, scared of the future ahead of them.
“Hey Eiji, do you regret anything in your life?”
“Don’t you? No one lives a perfect life, Oishi.”
Oishi nudges him. “Well, you’ve got me there… I do regret things. I’ve made mistakes over and over again and let people come and go out of my life without a care. But you, Eiji, I never realized how much I regretted losing you from my life until now.”
“Oishi.”
“No, seriously. Even if we hadn’t switched bodies, being able to experience you again; your smile, your laugh… I know I’m over ten years late, but…”
“Oishi.”
“Eiji.”
Their hands slot together, just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, and it’s like old times. They don’t have to say a word, the sensation of synchro flowing between them. Emotions blur, whether it’s Eiji’s pure joy or the comfort of Oishi’s strength, no one would be able to pick out a single emotion except for one.
Love.
When they pull away, it’s still just Oishi and Eiji, just how it always should have been. They lean into each other, foreheads bumping together, the two of them entangling, as they always have.
“I’m not going to cry this time.” Eiji says, but Oishi can see the clear hints of tears in his eyes.
“I love you. I should have said it to you a long time ago.”
It’s easy, so incredibly easy, to lean in and kiss him, curling lips pressing together, overflowing with joy and relief.
Oishi pulls back first, standing and helping Eiji to his feet. A beat passes before Eiji grins, jumping blindly at Oishi who, despite the years between them, catches him easily. Their lips meet again, even as the sky darkens around them.
Eiji pulls away, their faces still nearly touching as Eiji combs fingers through Oishi’s hair and laughs.
“What?” Oishi asks still smiling, still cradling Eiji close.
Eiji shakes his head.
“Eiji. We just bared our souls to each other, what more is there to hide?”
“Mmm, just thinking about your hair. It really does look nicer without the gel.”
Oishi’s face goes sober. “Kikumaru Eiji, I love you, but we need to set up some serious boundaries.”
no subject
but this fic is so lovely, with the journey of them refinding each other thru a damn bodyswap of all things, and your art to go along with it is just gorgeous. the refinding old friends trope always pulls at my hearstrings but with this set-up and this couple specifically gets me really, really hard. because you see 10-15 years ago was back when i met these characters and cared about them so much and seeing them grow through their seigaku years, and the way this fic is set up feels like it's not just them refinding each other, but im finding them again too - what they're up to after all this time and how they've changed (yet kind of stayed the same, these losers) after all of us have grown up and grown apart. the nostalgia effect is woven perfectly throughout this fic and it's so well written that it made me super emotional by the end there.
so congrats team tennis, you made the fic 14 year old me always wanted and then made it 1000x better.