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writetomyheart2019-04-03 07:22 am
clearlykero.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2019-04-03 07:22 am
[TEAM TWO] on change
does anyone know Kyou Kara Ore Wa!!, this 90s yankee series... recently I found out that it had a live action adaptation last year so I watched a couple of the OVAs again, and I forgot how much I liked it!! it's so funny and also so unbelievably gay, my god. have some awkward gay thugs for my turn this round.
"Be ready," Imai tells him, and Yasuo always is. He's been going along with Imai's plans for years, and there's no chance of him stopping anytime soon (even if sometimes said plans are a little ridiculous; no one follows Imai for his brains, after all). Especially now that graduation is just around the corner, and none of them want to think about what waits in Imai's future.
"Gotcha," says Yasuo, then can't resist asking: "You sure about this?"
Imai is quiet for a long while, scuffing his shoe in the dirt. The sky hasn't darkened yet, but it's still cold enough in the playground that their breath mists in the air and Yasuo is tempted to warm his hands around the light of a cigarette. He could, if he really wanted to— Imai didn't mean for his own abstinence to apply to the rest of them too. But Yasuo is nothing if not loyal down to his bones. Instead, he tucks his chin into his scarf and folds his arms, trying not to shiver.
"Yeah," Imai says, finally. He kicks the ground, rocking the swing a little. His shoes have gotten worn over the years, the funds for new ones always used to pay for Koyama's clinic fees or Nakano's lunch, or whatever issue he thought he should help them out with because that was his duty. Yasuo loves him for it, but he wishes Imai would be a little less hard-headed. They're all more than capable of paying their own way. The sight of Imai's threadbare shoes now just makes his heart clench in a wholly unwelcome fashion.
"I got your back, Imai-san," Yasuo quips, to cover his discomfort. Imai smiles, tipping his head back. The sun catches on his dyed-brown hair. He's getting split ends, Yasuo notices, and his roots are already showing. He looks nice when he smiles.
"Y'know, Tanigawa," Imai says, and Yasuo's eyes snap back to a safer contemplation of his own shoes. "I was sure way back the first time we met. I mean, I know what I felt. It just ain't what a real man ought to be doing, right? So I guess maybe I'm not sure."
A crow caws out the familiar idiot refrain from a telephone line across the street. What cursed timing; Imai draws even further into himself at this. Yasuo finds himself wishing that Nakano was here— Nakano, at least, doesn't have a long rhistory of being on Imai's side no matter his personal feelings on the issue. In that sense, Yasuo is not a very reliable voice of objectivity. "You'll always be a real man," Yasuo tells him anyway. "We don't care who you like. If I did I'd've washed my hands back in middle school when you fell for Maeda, that bitch."
"Acchan was just scared," says Imai automatically, then barks a sharp, unamused laugh. "And I always just liked the ladies."
Yasuo knocks his knee against Imai's. He doesn't really want to be having this conversation. Imai probably won't believe his assurances unless Yasuo gives him a confession of his own, and that's something that definitely wasn't on the agenda for the rest of his life. And yet without it Imai will always have that niggling piece of self-doubt, which after tomorrow's thing with Mitsuhashi might actually metamorphose into self-loathing depending how much of a motherfucker Mitsuhashi feels like being. It's usually a lot, especially when Itou won't be there to hold him in check. Yasuo weighs how much he loves Imai versus how much he wants to stay by Imai's side.
"This is stupid," Yasuo concludes. He catches Imai's sleeve before he can rear up in offense. "Just talking to myself, Imai-san. Do you think I'm a real man?"
"You— huh? Someone been saying you ain't manly enough for them?" Imai looks offended on his behalf and immediately distracted from his own worries. "Tanigawa, I know you can't fight for shit, but you're almost more manly than me. But only almost, 'cause you're my right hand man."
Sometimes, Yasuo thinks he could fall out of love with Imai, usually when he does things like drag them all into a pointless feud with Akehisa, but then he acts like this, and Yasuo remembers all over again why he's here. "It's fine, Imai-san, no one's been talking crap. Anyway, if liking guys makes you not a real man, then I've never been one since you saved me."
Imai has his mouth open to counter Yasuo's point about not being a real man, and then the rest of it clearly catches up to him. He closes his mouth again, staring. Yasuo catches his eye just once, then looks away. His palms are sweaty despite the cold. He rubs them on his thighs. He imagines he can feel Imai's gaze like a hot brand on his cheek, burning with some emotion Yasuo doesn't want to guess at because it might even be betrayal.
"Tanigawa…" Imai's voice is too loud after the long silence, and more tentative than Yasuo's ever heard. "Do you—"
"Yeah," Yasuo cuts in so the words don't actually have to be out in the open, so he can get through this ordeal with some measure of dignity intact, "don't say it. I never— it's like before. Same as always. It's not anything, I don't want to do anything. It's fine."
He dares a glance at Imai, and finds him looking back sadly. "It's really fine," Yasuo repeats, nearly pleading.
"I'm sorry anyway," says Imai at last, pushing his swing to bump gently into Yasuo's, a silent agreement to let him be. "Did you have to— was it hard?"
Yasuo's wonders if he's asking about making the confession or keeping his feelings under lock and key for all these years. "Nah. Feels better now it's off my chest," he says, and it's even mostly true. "If Mitsuhashi tries to give you a hard time you just gotta kick him in the dick."
"That's dirty," Imai points out, affronted.
"You're trying to confess to the dirtiest rat bastard in the prefecture and you wanna complain about dirty?" Yasuo stands up, stretching until he hears his spine pop. "I'll be nearby to clean up after you anyway." Like I always do, he doesn't need to add.
"Thanks, Tanigawa." Yasuo turns to give Imai a concerned look; thanks is not in their usual list of interactions. Imai is grinning at him, hands still curled around the chains of his swing.
"Hey, it's my job, Imai-san, you never have to thank me," says Yasuo, warily.
"Y'know," Imai says, as if he's just had a great revelation, and Yasuo knows their heretofore sickeningly emotional conversation is going to derail very fast, "since we're talking about dirty tactics, I should convince Riko-chan to step in so she can—"
"Imai-san," Yasuo starts, but Imai isn't listening to him any more, and the simple plan to corner Mitsuhashi alone and deliver a confession starts to turn into something that sounds a lot like when Imai was trying to corner Mitsuhashi into a fight every other day. Yasuo, like he does every time, gives up in a matter of seconds and settles in to watch Imai describe how he's going to finally get one over Mitsuhashi and make him capitulate to all his demands. It's strangely endearing.
Tomorrow, one way or another, Imai will tell Mitsuhashi that he's had a thing for him since they met on the train and Mitsuhashi left him nursing an injured hand on the platform, and Mitsuhashi will probably be disgusted enough to be actually cruel instead of just playing around. Yasuo doesn't have a lot of expectations of Mitsuhashi, even though the guy's not all bad. He just has too many layers of falsehood covering himself to be suited to a man like Imai, who wears his whole heart on his sleeve and lets it be stabbed again and again so that he can be honest about who he is.
Tomorrow, Yasuo will be there to pick up the pieces of Imai's overly-honest heart, because Imai deserves nothing less. Tomorrow, they'll be one step closer to graduation and the realities of a society that will chew Imai up and not even have the decency to spit him out again. But today, at least, he can agree to all of Imai's nonsensical schemes and pretend that things can stay the same, that even fifty years in the future there will always be a place for him at Imai's side.
your turn at bat,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
coyoteclaw!
"Be ready," Imai tells him, and Yasuo always is. He's been going along with Imai's plans for years, and there's no chance of him stopping anytime soon (even if sometimes said plans are a little ridiculous; no one follows Imai for his brains, after all). Especially now that graduation is just around the corner, and none of them want to think about what waits in Imai's future.
"Gotcha," says Yasuo, then can't resist asking: "You sure about this?"
Imai is quiet for a long while, scuffing his shoe in the dirt. The sky hasn't darkened yet, but it's still cold enough in the playground that their breath mists in the air and Yasuo is tempted to warm his hands around the light of a cigarette. He could, if he really wanted to— Imai didn't mean for his own abstinence to apply to the rest of them too. But Yasuo is nothing if not loyal down to his bones. Instead, he tucks his chin into his scarf and folds his arms, trying not to shiver.
"Yeah," Imai says, finally. He kicks the ground, rocking the swing a little. His shoes have gotten worn over the years, the funds for new ones always used to pay for Koyama's clinic fees or Nakano's lunch, or whatever issue he thought he should help them out with because that was his duty. Yasuo loves him for it, but he wishes Imai would be a little less hard-headed. They're all more than capable of paying their own way. The sight of Imai's threadbare shoes now just makes his heart clench in a wholly unwelcome fashion.
"I got your back, Imai-san," Yasuo quips, to cover his discomfort. Imai smiles, tipping his head back. The sun catches on his dyed-brown hair. He's getting split ends, Yasuo notices, and his roots are already showing. He looks nice when he smiles.
"Y'know, Tanigawa," Imai says, and Yasuo's eyes snap back to a safer contemplation of his own shoes. "I was sure way back the first time we met. I mean, I know what I felt. It just ain't what a real man ought to be doing, right? So I guess maybe I'm not sure."
A crow caws out the familiar idiot refrain from a telephone line across the street. What cursed timing; Imai draws even further into himself at this. Yasuo finds himself wishing that Nakano was here— Nakano, at least, doesn't have a long rhistory of being on Imai's side no matter his personal feelings on the issue. In that sense, Yasuo is not a very reliable voice of objectivity. "You'll always be a real man," Yasuo tells him anyway. "We don't care who you like. If I did I'd've washed my hands back in middle school when you fell for Maeda, that bitch."
"Acchan was just scared," says Imai automatically, then barks a sharp, unamused laugh. "And I always just liked the ladies."
Yasuo knocks his knee against Imai's. He doesn't really want to be having this conversation. Imai probably won't believe his assurances unless Yasuo gives him a confession of his own, and that's something that definitely wasn't on the agenda for the rest of his life. And yet without it Imai will always have that niggling piece of self-doubt, which after tomorrow's thing with Mitsuhashi might actually metamorphose into self-loathing depending how much of a motherfucker Mitsuhashi feels like being. It's usually a lot, especially when Itou won't be there to hold him in check. Yasuo weighs how much he loves Imai versus how much he wants to stay by Imai's side.
"This is stupid," Yasuo concludes. He catches Imai's sleeve before he can rear up in offense. "Just talking to myself, Imai-san. Do you think I'm a real man?"
"You— huh? Someone been saying you ain't manly enough for them?" Imai looks offended on his behalf and immediately distracted from his own worries. "Tanigawa, I know you can't fight for shit, but you're almost more manly than me. But only almost, 'cause you're my right hand man."
Sometimes, Yasuo thinks he could fall out of love with Imai, usually when he does things like drag them all into a pointless feud with Akehisa, but then he acts like this, and Yasuo remembers all over again why he's here. "It's fine, Imai-san, no one's been talking crap. Anyway, if liking guys makes you not a real man, then I've never been one since you saved me."
Imai has his mouth open to counter Yasuo's point about not being a real man, and then the rest of it clearly catches up to him. He closes his mouth again, staring. Yasuo catches his eye just once, then looks away. His palms are sweaty despite the cold. He rubs them on his thighs. He imagines he can feel Imai's gaze like a hot brand on his cheek, burning with some emotion Yasuo doesn't want to guess at because it might even be betrayal.
"Tanigawa…" Imai's voice is too loud after the long silence, and more tentative than Yasuo's ever heard. "Do you—"
"Yeah," Yasuo cuts in so the words don't actually have to be out in the open, so he can get through this ordeal with some measure of dignity intact, "don't say it. I never— it's like before. Same as always. It's not anything, I don't want to do anything. It's fine."
He dares a glance at Imai, and finds him looking back sadly. "It's really fine," Yasuo repeats, nearly pleading.
"I'm sorry anyway," says Imai at last, pushing his swing to bump gently into Yasuo's, a silent agreement to let him be. "Did you have to— was it hard?"
Yasuo's wonders if he's asking about making the confession or keeping his feelings under lock and key for all these years. "Nah. Feels better now it's off my chest," he says, and it's even mostly true. "If Mitsuhashi tries to give you a hard time you just gotta kick him in the dick."
"That's dirty," Imai points out, affronted.
"You're trying to confess to the dirtiest rat bastard in the prefecture and you wanna complain about dirty?" Yasuo stands up, stretching until he hears his spine pop. "I'll be nearby to clean up after you anyway." Like I always do, he doesn't need to add.
"Thanks, Tanigawa." Yasuo turns to give Imai a concerned look; thanks is not in their usual list of interactions. Imai is grinning at him, hands still curled around the chains of his swing.
"Hey, it's my job, Imai-san, you never have to thank me," says Yasuo, warily.
"Y'know," Imai says, as if he's just had a great revelation, and Yasuo knows their heretofore sickeningly emotional conversation is going to derail very fast, "since we're talking about dirty tactics, I should convince Riko-chan to step in so she can—"
"Imai-san," Yasuo starts, but Imai isn't listening to him any more, and the simple plan to corner Mitsuhashi alone and deliver a confession starts to turn into something that sounds a lot like when Imai was trying to corner Mitsuhashi into a fight every other day. Yasuo, like he does every time, gives up in a matter of seconds and settles in to watch Imai describe how he's going to finally get one over Mitsuhashi and make him capitulate to all his demands. It's strangely endearing.
Tomorrow, one way or another, Imai will tell Mitsuhashi that he's had a thing for him since they met on the train and Mitsuhashi left him nursing an injured hand on the platform, and Mitsuhashi will probably be disgusted enough to be actually cruel instead of just playing around. Yasuo doesn't have a lot of expectations of Mitsuhashi, even though the guy's not all bad. He just has too many layers of falsehood covering himself to be suited to a man like Imai, who wears his whole heart on his sleeve and lets it be stabbed again and again so that he can be honest about who he is.
Tomorrow, Yasuo will be there to pick up the pieces of Imai's overly-honest heart, because Imai deserves nothing less. Tomorrow, they'll be one step closer to graduation and the realities of a society that will chew Imai up and not even have the decency to spit him out again. But today, at least, he can agree to all of Imai's nonsensical schemes and pretend that things can stay the same, that even fifty years in the future there will always be a place for him at Imai's side.
your turn at bat,
coyoteclaw!