The Question

By Ju

Eiji was tired.  His endless energy was on vacation, his legs felt like they had been attacked by a whole swarm of Inui’s evil ankle weights, his right arm seemed oddly numb, his eyes were seeing things that weren’t there.  Because wasn’t that Inui, the tall, spiky-haired, sadistic spawn of Satan himself, dragging a disgruntled-looking Kaidou behind the gymnasium?  Then again, Kaidou always looked disgruntled.  So maybe the two of them playing tonsil hockey wasn’t a figment of Eiji’s imagination after all.

…What was he thinking about again?

Oh yeah.  He was tired.

So he walked over to Oishi, who was sitting primly on the edge of a wooden bench and pretending that he wasn’t panting, and said, “I’m tired.”

Then he flopped down on to the bench.  Of course, his flopping was random, as always, and he didn’t really mean to end up sprawling all over his doubles partner.  But Oishi didn’t mind.  See?  He just smiled, pretended some more that he wasn’t panting, and said nothing.

Eiji took that as a sign to keep talking.

“I’m tired.  My legs are tired.  My right arm’s tired.  My left arm’s not tired, although if Tezuka heard that, he’d probably make me play with it until it’s tired too, so you better not say anything to him, Oishi.”  And he glared half-heartedly at the other boy through heavy-lidded eyes.

Oishi just smiled down at where Eiji’s head sort of rested on his thigh.  “Tezuka’s not that–”

“–much of an evil bastard?” he yawned widely.

Oishi smiled again.  His hand reached for the towel that Eiji was lying on top of, and it was probably an accident when his fingertips grazed the side of Eiji’s cheek.  “I was going to say, Tezuka’s not that bad.”

“You’re just saying that.”  He attempted another glare, but this one was interrupted by another yawn.  He was so tired.

“No I’m not.”  And Oishi tugged the towel out from under him, causing his body to shift position until he was even further into Oishi’s lap.  He didn’t mind, even though the other boy could’ve just asked him to pass the towel.

“Yes you are.  You’re always on Tezuka’s side.  I’m tired, Oishi.”

Oishi smiled some more at Eiji’s pout, and by now the pretend non-panting had become real non-panting.  He didn’t say anything more.

“Aren’t you?”  Eiji didn’t quite know what he was asking, and he wondered if Oishi would know.  He turned his head away so that he wasn’t staring up at that understanding smile, turned his head so that he stared in the direction of the tennis courts.  He could see Tezuka, a blurry blue lump standing next to a blurry pink lump, and he pouted again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy shake his head.  “No, I’m not.”

Oishi always understood the question.

:: Owari ::