Archive of Our Own ^beta

‘How in the world did I got here?!’

Those words kept looping in Sendoh’s head as he scanned the unfamiliar room. It looked like a hotel suite—judging by the elegant furnishings and the soft scent of something expensive in the air. Right. The Kanagawa District ’90s Basketball Reunion was held here. If memory serves, Fukuda and Hanagata from Shoyo High had helped him up when he was too drunk to stand. They must’ve dragged him in.

But the real shock wasn’t the room. It was the fact that he’d woken up completely naked.

Stripped from head to toe.

“Did Fukuda… undress me too?” he muttered, squinting at the ceiling. “How thoughtful.” Then he snorted. Yeah, right. Knowing Fukuda, he probably just tossed him on the bed and left. So maybe, he’d just gotten hot in his sleep and peeled everything off himself.

Okay. Case closed. Nothing to panic about. Just a hangover, a hotel room, and a little too much skin. Time to get up, enjoy the day, maybe grab some aspirin and—

“Hn.”

A low moan cut through the silence.

Not his.

From the right.

His blood ran cold. Eyes widening in disbelief.

“No…” he whispered, his head turning slowly, stiffly, as if trying to delay whatever horror lay in wait. “No freaking…” Each inch he turned revealed more. And then—“…way.” His eyes landed on the lump under the blanket beside him. A sizable one. His gaze froze. “Mo…ther…fuc—”

But his curse was cut short. Because the lump under the blanket suddenly sat up and revealed himself.

Sendoh’s jaw practically hit the floor.

Because sitting there, disheveled and half-asleep, was none other than the No. 1 National Basketball Player in all of Japan—Rukawa Kaede.

And worse—far worse than anything Sendoh had imagined?

Rukawa was topless!

On his bed.

In the same bed!!!

Sendoh’s mouth quivered. His throat locked up, a tangle of half-formed words and unspoken horror.

Rukawa, meanwhile, was still trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. He scratched the back of his raven hair, clearly confused, scanning the unfamiliar room with a slow, bleary glance. In a slight movement, a twitch of pain is felt. “Oooof… my back hurts,” he hissed, placing a palm at his lower back as he shifted.

Sendoh’s world stopped. His voice cracked like glass.

“B-Ba… ba… ba—back?”

A stuttering voice broke the silence, snapping Rukawa’s attention to the left. His eyes widened. And now—they were staring at each other.

Two grown men. Big, round eyes. Parted lips. Frozen in mutual disbelief. Neither blinked. Neither breathed. Their heads slowly turned to the front, then back to each other, like broken animatronics stuck in a loop. Still shocked. Still silent. Their heavy breathing is the only sound they can hear. 

Sendoh took this chance to think. To recall whatever happened last night that leads to this scene. Anything that can explain this. 

And something did come.

But instead of clarity, it brought a chill down his spine. What he remembered didn’t comfort him.

It actually haunted him.

A flicker of memory hit him like a slap—He kissed someone’s neck! And he  remembered murmuring, “Hmm… you smell good.”

Panic exploded in his chest.

Sendoh’s eyes snapped open, and his head whipped to the right, then the left, then back to Rukawa again. Desperate. Dreading. Hoping he was wrong.

But there it was. Clear as daylight.

Two hickeys flaunting themselves on the left side of Rukawa’s neck. His mouth dropped open. His soul practically left his body.

“WAAAAAAAA!!!”

The scream shattered the room’s silence like glass.

Rukawa jerked upright. “Stop—!!!” But before he could finish, a jolt of pain seized him. “Ah—fuck, my back!” He grabbed at his lower spine, wincing.

Despite the chaos in his mind, Sendoh’s instinctive concern took over. He leaned in to offer support. “Rukawa, are you okay?”

But Rukawa darted him a murderous look, screaming: This is your fault.

Sendoh’s soul departed, sensing the meaning behind those dangerous looks.

But wait.

If Rukawa’s back hurts… then that could only mean… He was the one who—who—put his hammer into—

“WAAAAAAAA!!!”

Another panicked scream tore from his throat.

Rukawa snapped, “Will you stop screaming?! Dammit!” 

Sendoh was silenced. He clamped his mouth shut like a child caught mid-tantrum.

Rukawa sighed, calming himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to massage the headache from existence.

He looked just as lost. His brows furrowed in thought, as if searching the foggy ruins of memory. 

Sendoh dared a glance at him from the corner of his eye. Should he say something? Ask? Piece together the mess? He opened his mouth to say something but closed it. No words came. Just fear. Guilt. Embarrassment. Confusion. He wanted to talk. He needed to talk. 

But the courage?

Nowhere to be found.

Just then, Rukawa shifted and made a move to get off the bed. But the moment his feet hit the floor, his knees gave out and he collapsed with a soft thud.

“Rukawa!” Sendoh scrambled out of bed, panic kicking in. He hurried around and knelt beside him. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“My knees…” Rukawa muttered, glaring at the floor. “They gave out.”

‘His knees gave out?’ Sendoh blinked and thought, 

‘How rough was I last night for his knees to actually give out?!’  He felt a heavy pang of guilt settle in his chest. ‘Gosh! What did I do?’

Before the guilt could fully drown him, something soft slammed into his face. A pillow. “Will you cover yourself already?!” Rukawa barked, cheeks tinged red. “You’re flashing everything in front of me!”

Sendoh’s eyes widened. He looked down—and immediately shoved the pillow to cover his private parts. “Crap! Sorry!” he blurted out, face turning crimson. In his panic to help, he’d completely forgotten he was still naked. Rukawa pulled the blanket and covered his own nakedness. He scratched his fringes. “What the hell happened?”

All of a sudden, Sendoh dropped to his knees and bowed his head low. Forehead nearly touching the floor. The move stunned Rukawa into silence.

“I sincerely apologize, Rukawa,” Sendoh said, voice firm but trembling. “I don’t remember anything clearly, but whatever happened last night—I take full responsibility. I’ll make it right. I’ll take care of you—”

Rukawa’s brow twitched. “The heck are you saying?”

Sendoh lifted his head slowly, meeting Rukawa’s gaze with unusual seriousness. “I may not remember it all, but someone as drunk as I was… should never have done anything like that. I crossed a line. A serious one. It was—without question—sexual harass—”

“Stop.” Rukawa cut him off, rubbing a hand down his face, exasperated. “Just stop.”

Sendoh blinked, stunned again.

“You were drunk. I was drunk. We were both completely out of our minds,” Rukawa said, his tone calmer now but firm. “Whatever happened last night, it wasn’t just on you. I wasn’t some helpless victim, Sendoh. We both… let it happen. So don’t just blame yourself.”

A long silence between them. Sendoh sat back, guilt still flickering in his eyes, but now felt something else… relief. “I mean it though, Rukawa. I’ll take full responsibility of you.”

Rukawa studied him, head slightly tilted, as if trying to decode what Sendoh wasn’t saying aloud. Then, he flatly said, “I can’t get pregnant, if that’s what you mean.”

Rukawa’s bluntness turned Sendoh beet red. “I—I know that, of course!” he stammered. At least they were on the same page now… sort of. “But if you need anything… like, I dunno, a check-up? If you feel any pain, down there, or discomfort or—”

Rukawa let out a long, exhausted sigh. “Let’s not make this weirder than it already is.” he said. “Look. What’s done is done. We can’t undo last night… but I want to leave it behind us. All I ask is…” He locked eyes with Sendoh in all seriousness. “Let’s keep this between us.” It wasn’t just a request, but was a plea.

And Sendoh completely understood.

Rukawa wasn’t just someone. He is Rukawa Kaede, the national athlete. A celebrity. The face of Japanese basketball. If word of this goes out, the media wouldn’t just run wild, they’d set the whole league on fire!

Sendoh nodded, quietly but firmly. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Rukawa held his gaze a moment longer, then gave a faint nod of his own. “Good.”

A long pause followed. 

“Still,” Sendoh muttered, trying to break the tension, “… you might wanna get that back pain checked. Y’know. Just in case.”

Rukawa stared at him. Sendoh felt the stare and immediately regretted saying anything.

“I’ll shower…” Rukawa muttered, steadying himself as he stood. Still clearly sore, his knees not quite cooperating. He tugged the comforter around his waist, then slowly made his way toward the bathroom with the stiff determination of someone pretending they weren’t in pain.

Sendoh immediately jumped to his feet, instinct taking over. “Do you want me to help you inside—?”

Rukawa stopped mid-step.

Turned.

And glared.

That trademark cold, cutting stare said don’t you even think about it.

Sendoh took a step back, hands up in surrender. “Got it. No helping. Independent Rukawa. Absolutely.” Then he allowed Rukawa headed to the bathroom alone. 

With a sigh, Sendoh reached down to grab his long-sleeved shirt off the carpet. He shook it out, then tried to slip it on—only to freeze midway.

A sharp pain was felt on his back, making him hiss through his teeth. He winced and instinctively reached around, fingers brushing over something sore, something raw.

Behind him, the bathroom door hadn’t fully shut.

Rukawa, halfway through closing it, paused at the sound of Sendoh wincing in pain. He turned, curious. Then his eyes locked onto Sendoh’s back.

And there they were.

Three red, angry scratch marks.

Claw-like.

Fresh.

Like someone had dug their nails in. Right between Sendoh’s shoulder blades.

Silence.

Then, as if choreographed, both of their jaws dropped in perfect sync.

They stared at each other, horrified for they both knew exactly what those marks meant!

Sendoh left the hotel an hour after Rukawa. It was Rukawa’s request, just in case the paparazzi were lurking nearby. Being a national athlete and a public figure meant even a harmless photo could explode into scandal.

Sendoh didn’t argue and followed his lead.

Now, seated at a small café a few blocks away, he finally took his first proper breath of the day. He’d grabbed a sandwich and a black coffee. Nothing fancy, but after this chaotic morning, it felt like a feast.

He chose an outdoor table, hoping the busy hum of traffic and chatter might help soothe the lingering throb of his hangover, and the heavier weight of everything else.

He took a bite.

Warm. Savory.

‘Hmm. That felt good.’ He thought and let out a quiet sigh of relief… until his eyes dropped to the sandwich again.

That’s when it hit him.

He hadn’t even offered Rukawa breakfast.

Damn.

A pang of guilt tightened in his chest. After what happened, like whatever it was, the least he could’ve done was make sure the guy had something to eat.

His thoughts drifted back to last night.

Still hazy. Still patchy.

He remembered Fukuda and Hanagata dragging him into the room. He was drunk. Slurring. Barely upright.

But Rukawa? He wasn’t part of that memory.So how did they end up in the same bed? Where did Rukawa come from? And… why can’t he remember any of it?

A flicker of movement pulled his attention upward. Across the street, a giant LED screen blazed to life, cycling through advertisements. But one image froze him mid-bite—Rukawa.

Dressed head to toe in a sleek tracksuit from a famous sports brand, his stoic face front and center.

An endorsement, obviously.

Sendoh’s lips curved into a thin, almost-smile.

“So … you really made it, huh?”

He remembered the Rukawa from high school, the one who barely talked, but couldn’t shut up about becoming number one. The best in Japan. The obsession was always there. 

And now, here he was. No. 1 national basketball player. A full-blown celebrity. 

Honestly, no one expected him to show up at last night’s reunion. He’s surely busy being famous.

But he did.

And the second he walked in, all eyes were on him.

The room shifted. The air changed.

Sendoh chuckled under his breath, remembering Miyagi’s boast. “No one says no to my wife,” Maybe that was true. Maybe that’s what convinced Rukawa to make an appearance.

Well… good for him.

As for Sendoh, he had chosen a different path. A quieter one. He led a university basketball team now, head coach for one of the top collegiate programs in the region. He didn’t wear flashy brands or appear on TV, but he shaped the future of the sport from the sidelines. And honestly? He was proud of that.

They may have taken different roads, but they were still running toward the same love—Basketball.

That, at least, hadn’t changed.

‘I wonder what he's doing right now?’ The question slipped through Sendoh’s mind as he absently chewed the last bite of his sandwich.

Was Rukawa still thinking about this morning?

Was he as bothered as he was… or had he already buried the memory the moment he stepped out of that hotel room?

Knowing Rukawa, the guy probably discarded it instantly. Folded it up, filed it away, and walked off like nothing happened.

Sendoh sighed.

Was it really just a mistake for him? A drunken accident?

Because for Sendoh… even in the blur, even in the confusion… something about it didn’t feel like just that.

The buzz of his phone interrupted him. He placed his sandwich down and picked his phone out of his pocket. 

It’s Fukuda.

Great! 

One of the possible key witnesses of what could’ve happened last night. 

He placed the sandwich down, propped his phone upright against his coffee cup, and answered with a tap. His friend’s face popped on the screen, “Yo Fukuda!”

“Sendoh, where are you? Thought you’re dead.” He laughed. “Did you check out?”

“Yeah. I’m at a cafe, near the hotel.” He showed his half-eaten sandwich. 

“I thought I’ll pay you a visit if you haven’t. You’re seriously wasted last night.” Fukuda added

Sendoh let out a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah, I figured. Thanks for dragging me to the room, by the way.”

“No problem. You're heavier than you look though. Good thing, the big man is there to help.” he said, referring to Hanagata.

Sendoh chuckled, but the laugh faded quickly as something itched at the back of his mind.

“Hey, Fukuda?”

“Yeah?”

He scratched his cheek, hesitant. “When you took me to the hotel room last night… did you, uh, see anyone? Like… was someone already there before you brought me in?”

Fukuda blinked. “Nah, man. Nobody. I booked the room myself. I had no idea where you lived, so I just used my card and got you a place to crash.”

Sendoh gave a weak grin. “Right. Thanks. I owe you. And you didn’t even thought of booking a standard type? Does it have to be a suite?”

“All for the best coach in the district.”

“Asshole.”

Both laughed. 

Sendoh drifted back to the puzzle he couldn’t piece together. “So you’re sure,” he said slowly, “no one else was in the room when you left me there?”

“Hundred percent,” Fukuda said with a shrug. “Just you, me, and Hanagata. Why? Did you lose something?”

Sendoh hesitated. “No. Not really.” But someone had definitely shown up after that. And somehow, that someone ended up in the same bed with him—naked.

“Although…” Fukuda added, tilting his head in thought, “I do remember Kogure-san asking me for the lock code to your room last night.”

Sendoh sat up straighter. “Wait, what?” It was like a sudden beam of light cutting through the fog. A gleam of hope… or maybe a lead.

“Yeah,” Fukuda continued, a little unsure. “Why? You think that’s important?”

Sendoh tried to keep his voice even. “Why would he need the code?”

Fukuda made a face. “I don’t know. I thought maybe he wanted to check in on you. It’s Kogure, we all trust the guy.”

Sendoh exhaled through his nose. “Right. Of course.” Then added quickly, “Just… can you check with him for me?”

Fukuda narrowed his eyes, sensing something more. “Okay, now you’re acting weird. What’s going on? Did Kogure steal something? Should I arrest him?”

Sendoh let out a sigh. “No, no. It’s not like that. I didn’t lose anything. I just…” He hesitated. “Dude. Just ask him. It’s important.”

Fukuda made a face. “Alright, Coach. I’ll make the call. Hang tight. I’ll get back to you.”

The call ended.

And once again, Sendoh was left staring at his cold coffee, with questions louder than ever.

After a long, hot shower, Sendoh collapsed onto the couch, damp hair and a towel slung carelessly around his neck. The weight of the day still clung to him, but the silence of his apartment was a welcome change from the chaos of the morning.

He reached for his phone, opened his social media app, and started scrolling through the flood of photos from last night’s reunion.

It had definitely been a blast—if the posts were anything to go by.

Everyone looked like they’d had the time of their lives. Laughter, drinks, dancing. He paused now and then, tapping through pictures of familiar faces, goofy poses, blurry group shots, arms slung around shoulders.

But what really stood out were the photos with him in them—Rukawa. 

The only celebrity in the room.

Some were posed, a rare privilege. Most were stolen shots, snapped from across the room. Half-candid, 

Typical.

Ordinary people always want to take a piece of someone extraordinary. To capture the moment, even if it’s just a blurry smile.

Sendoh studied each frame. Rukawa never smiled in any of them, but he didn’t push anyone away either. Didn’t scowl. Didn’t leave.

He allowed it.

That, in itself, was surprising.

Sendoh smirked, more to himself than anything.

“Time does change people,” he murmured, letting his thumb run on Rukawa’s face. “Even him.”

And then froze.

Realizing what he did.

‘What the hell are you doing Sendoh Akira? Have you completely lost your mind?’ He scolded himself. It was one thing to feel guilty. Another to feel responsible. But this? This unexpected tenderness? This aching curiosity about what Rukawa might be feeling right now? That was a whole different mess! 

He shook the ridiculous thought from his head and went back to mindlessly scrolling through the reunion pictures. Half-distracted. Still flushed. Until one post made him freeze.

It was a photo from Hikoichi.

Blurred a little at the corner, poorly lit like most of the night’s snapshots, but something about it bothered him.

He tapped on it. Zoomed in.

And his breath hitched.

No way!

There they were, him and Rukawa, sitting at the bar counter.

His arm was slung around Rukawa’s back, pulling him in close. Too close. Their faces were inches apart, his lips looked like brushing near Rukawa’s ear, like he was whispering something.

And they somehow… looked… intimate.

His mouth parted in pure shock. He slapped a hand over it. “What the f—?”

Was he… was he flirting with Rukawa?

His eyes widened in horror.

“Fuck.”

This damn Pentium 4 memory of his, always lagging when he needed it most. Just like in high school.

He was still reeling, staring at the damning image, when his phone nearly jumped out of his hand, buzzing with an incoming call.

He flinched. Looked at the screen.

Fukuda.

Perfect timing. Or the worst.

He answered the phone and met Fukuda’s face on the screen. “Yeah.”

“So I got a hold of Kogure-san,” Fukuda said, voice light with amusement, “and guess who they brought into the room with you? Japan’s No. 1 himself! Taadaa!!!” He let out a laugh. “Is that what you wanted to know? How Rukawa ended up next to you? Man, you could’ve just said so from the start.”

Sendoh pressed his lips together. Yeah, he thought grimly, ‘I already figured that much out.’

“So that’s how he ended up beside me.” Sendoh’s calm response. “Uhmm… is there anything else you remember? Like… before that? Between me and Rukawa?”

Fukuda’s eyebrows lifted, suspicion creeping into his smirk. “Dude, the real question is…did something happen between you and Rukawa?” He laughed again. “You look seriously agitated bro.”

Sendoh’s fake grin twitched into place. “No! Absolutely none! I just… I can’t remember anything clearly, that’s all.”

Fukuda raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure. Give it a few days. You know how your busted memory works after our drunken nights. You’ll remember after a few days. Just like all the other times. Your memory is so out of this world.” 

Sendoh groaned internally. 

But Fukuda wasn’t done. “Oh, and by the way, just to add fuel to your little mystery last night, you kept whispering to me that Rukawa’s actually your type.”

Sendoh went stiff. His soul left his body for a second. “You’re kidding,” he whispered.

Fukuda grinned. “Swear on my card bill.” he added more, “You were like—He is so fine, hot, sexy—and all that.”

Sendoh’s face flushed deep red. “Seriously, dude. Stop bluffing.”

“I’m not kidding,” Fukuda replied, grinning far too wide. “You even outed yourself to Hikoichi last night. Ask him. He’ll back me up.”

Sendoh’s heart skipped. Shit.

“That… that’s impossible!” he blurted out, voice cracking slightly. Fukuda snorted. “Well, apparently the impossible was possible last night.”

A pause.

Sendoh blinked, unsettled. 

“And also…” Fukuda hesitated for a second. A second that made Sendoh’s gut twist. “Call Hikoichi. Bye!” Fukuda abruptly ended the line. Sendoh stared at the phone, completely dumbfounded.

“Damn you Fukuda!” he snapped at his phone. 

He slouched back on the couch.

What else happened last night?

Whatever it was, Fukuda clearly wasn’t going to be the one to say it. Now there was only one way to find out. And unfortunately, that meant dialing the said name—Hikoichi.

The weight of last night’s mystery pressed on Sendoh like a boulder.

‘Did I really flirt with Rukawa? Did Rukawa even let me?’

His face burned at the thought.

“Sendoh!”

He snapped out back to the present, blinking up at Hikoichi, who was now sitting across from him at the small table outside a convenience store. The agreed location for a quick catch up.

“Oh hey. Sorry, I spaced out,” Sendoh said, forcing a sheepish smile.“Sorry for calling you at this hour Hikoichi. I don’t mean to disturb your night.”

“Not at all Sendoh. I was the one who insist meeting up because I forgot to hand you this last night.” He pulled out a souvenir mug, printed with KANAGAWA REUNION 2025 and a cartoon basketball hoop. “Thought it’d be nicer to hand it to you in person.”

Sendoh took the mug. “Thank you Hikoichi. I appreciate it.”

“So…” Hikoichi leaned in, folding his arms on the table. “How can I help you?”

Sendoh rubbed the back of his neck, eyes drifting. “Honestly, I’m having trouble remembering last night. Things are… hazy. I was hoping you could help me fill in the blanks.”

Hikoichi tapped his chin, brows knit in exaggerated thought. “Everything was fine at first. Good vibes, decent food, cheesy playlist. But then… the after-party kicked in, and things started going off the rails.”

Sendoh leaned forward, tense. “What do you mean?”

“You were one of the first to try the punch,” Hikoichi said, pointing a finger like a prosecutor unveiling evidence. “And not just a sip, either. You had, like, three glasses in less than thirty minutes.”

Sendoh frowned, trying to reach back through the back of his mind. “Yeah… I kind of remember the punch. It was sweet. Strong. What about it?”

Hikoichi raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t hear? Someone spiked it.”

Sendoh froze. “Spiked? With what?”

“Rum. Vodka. Maybe tequila. Honestly, I think it was a group effort. And it was the Shohoku boys who did it. Miyagi-san, Mitsui-san and Sakuragi.” Hikoichi said as he count by his fingers. “Nobunaga even joined in too.”

Sendoh slumped in his seat. “No wonder I blacked out.”

“Yep. After your third glass, you were pretty much on another planet.”

Sendoh scratched his cheek, forcing a casual tone. “Did anyone else fall victim to the punch?”

Hikoichi squinted, scanning his memory. “Uozumi-senpai took a shot. Akagi-senpai too. A few guys from Shoyo and Kainan. After that…” He gave a helpless shrug. “It was chaos. Like, real wild.”

Sendoh swallowed hard. “Do you remember if I… was I inappropriate? With anyone?”

Hikoichi’s face flushed a deep crimson, his gaze darting away. That reaction was answer enough.

Shit. Fukuda wasn’t bluffing.

The silence stretched just a beat too long before Hikoichi finally looked up, his voice softer now but steadier. “You did tell me something last night. But just to be clear—” he straightened in his seat, “—you still have my full respect and support. One hundred percent.”

Sendoh managed a faint smile. “Thanks, Hikoichi. That means a lot.”

Blushing again, Hikoichi fidgeted with the strap of his bag. “So, uh… The famous Rukawa Kaede showed up during the after party. And you…well…you started saying he was your type. Like, out loud. To me and Fukuda.”

Sendoh buried his face in one hand. “Gosh…”

“And not just ‘type’ stuff,” Hikoichi added quickly. “You called him sexy. Hot. Then you wandered off.”

Sendoh bit his lip out of embarrassment. 

“And the next thing I knew… you and Rukawa were at the bar, sitting super close. Like real close.” 

Sendoh’s jaw tightened. So he really flirted with Rukawa.

“Did you feel… or see… if he looked uneasy?” Sendoh’s voice was careful, like he was bracing for impact.

Hikoichi shook his head slowly. “It’s hard to say. But maybe not. He didn’t push you away, despite you clinging on him… like too much.”

Sendoh pressed his lips into a thin line, embarrassed.

Hikoichi sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet Sendoh’s eyes. His cheeks were a deep shade of crimson. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. “I was just heading to the bar counter to get a decent drink… where you and Rukawa are sitting.” He paused, clearly debating whether to go on. “I kind of overheard you,” he admitted, eyes darting to the side. “You kept whispering to Rukawa that he smelled good… that you loved his scent.” Hikoichi’s blush deepened. “And then… you started sniffing his neck.”

What haunted Hikoichi most, something that he couldn’t tell Sendoh upfront, wasn’t just the sight of his friend lost in Rukawa’s scent—it was the look Rukawa shot him when he gave them a glance of curiosity. That piercing glare, sharp and wordless, was a clear warning: Leave now or you’re dead. Hikoichi had taken the hint and gotten out of there fast.

Sendoh’s pulse thundered in his ears as the words echoed in his mind—You smell good… I love your scent… and then sniffing his neck? His stomach twisted. That couldn’t be him. That’s not him! He’s a respectable coach and a teacher! He won’t just sniff and flirt with a stranger! “That’s definitely not me,” he whispered, more to himself than to Hikoichi.

“I’m really sorry, Sendoh,” Hikoichi pleaded, his hands pressed together like he was praying. “I didn’t mean to overhear. I left right away—I swear! And I haven’t told a single soul. Please, please don’t tell Rukawa-san.”

Sendoh blinked, momentarily pulled from his spiraling thoughts. Why does he sound like Rukawa’s some mafia boss?

He was about to ask when Hikoichi added, “Also… I heard there was a fight. But it was already over when I came back from the restroom.”

Sendoh’s brow shot up. “A fight?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, bummer. I missed that. Who were they?”

“I’m not sure,” Hikoichi admitted. “Honestly, I didn’t ask. I was starting to feel dizzy too… I’m not good at alcohol… I’m just trying to be cool—”

Hikoichi’s next word wasn’t heard. Sendoh is overwhelmed. A drunken flirtation, lost memories, a mysterious fight, and somehow Rukawa ended up in his bed. This night just kept getting deeper.

He wandered aimlessly down the road, each step heavy with the weight of shame. Had he really crossed a line with Rukawa last night? The thought alone made his cheeks burn. Fukuda’s and Hikoichi’s words echoed in his mind—sniffing Rukawa’s neck? Whispering how good he smelled? That didn’t sound like him at all. In all his drunken nights before, not once had he behaved that way. Fukuda would’ve called him out ages ago if he had. So why now? Why Rukawa? What was it about him that pulled something so reckless out of Sendoh?

As he shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his fingers brushed something unfamiliar. He fished it out. A sleek, silver lighter. Elegant. Heavy. RK was etched cleanly on the side.

He stared. Blinked. Stared again.

‘Rukawa’s?’

This didn’t look like a freebie. It looked… expensive. Sentimental, even. The kind of thing someone keeps for years. The kind of thing you don’t lose unless you’re too drunk to remember where you even are.

He exhaled sharply. “Great. Now I’m a thief, too.”

He had to return it. Obviously. It was the right thing to do. A civic duty. Not an excuse to see Rukawa again. Duh! Definitely not that.

…Right? 0.0

He groaned into his palms. “You offered to assist him! You bowed for forgiveness! And you didn’t even ask for his number?!” He stared at the lighter like it was mocking him. “Gaaaah!!”

So what to do now? This lighter seems really important. He must meet him then… like immediately. This instant. And yes, for the lighter… 0.0

Of course, in this time of need of celebrity update, the X app is the answer. As Japan’s top national athlete, Rukawa must have an account, or at the very least, be constantly posted about by his fans. Scrolling through posts with practiced urgency, Sendoh spotted a freshly uploaded video: Rukawa is casually strolling through a mall. It was posted just eight minutes ago. Even better? The mall was only a ten-minute walk from where he was. 

Less than ten minutes later, he arrived at the mall’s entrance, catching his breath. And yeah, this desperation is all for the lighter. Yeah. And nothing more. But somewhere inside him is shouting, “Dear myself, you’re pathetic!” he muttered to himself, half-laughing, half-mortified. 

Still, he moved with purpose, scanning the area. He found the store from the video—a sleek, high-end boutique that practically screamed “Hey average salary guy! Don’t even breathe near the price tags.” 

“Okay,” he sighed, parking himself outside. “Let’s just… stay here and not look like a stalker.”

The expensive looking glass door opens. “Sir, would you like to come in?”

“Ah no. I’m just waiting for someone.” Sendoh replied, waving him off.

“You can wait inside sir. You are free to browse while you wait.” The staff kept insisting that it’s beginning to cause a commotion. Already attracting attention.

Before Sendoh could protest again, another employee stepped outside, eyes scanning him with purpose. “Sir, one of our customers has invited you in. Please, this way.”

With no escape in sight and feeling the pressure of gathering eyes, Sendoh reluctantly stepped through the doors. And there he was—Rukawa, lounging on a sleek couch like he owned the place. He wore a light gray hoodie and matching joggers, looking impossibly calm and composed.

Sendoh approached cautiously.

“Are you stalking me now?” Rukawa asked..

Sendoh froze at the question, caught off guard. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head, trying to play it off. “Wha—No, of course not. I just happened to see—It’s not like that.”

Rukawa finally looked up, his eyes scanning him slowly from head to toe. “Or is this your grand plan for taking responsibility?” he said dryly. “Let me guess—getting down on one knee and proposing?”

Sendoh’s face flushed a deep shade of red. “Would you cut it out?” he muttered, flustered. “I’m being serious here.”

Rukawa scoffed, clearly amused. 

Without another word, Sendoh reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the lighter. He held it out between them. “Here. I think this is yours.”

Rukawa’s expression changed subtly. His gaze dropped to the lighter, recognizing it immediately. He took it from Sendoh, brushing their fingers lightly. “I was looking for this since morning.”

It was an important piece of his father’s memory. Something he will never hand to anyone. So how did it end up inside Sendoh’s pocket?

“I’ll get going then,” Sendoh said, though every step away from Rukawa felt heavier than the last. Truth is, he didn’t want to leave—but he had run out of excuses to stay.

“Hey.”

The word stopped him in his tracks. His heart skipped. He turned around, trying not to look too hopeful. “Yeah?”

Rukawa glanced at him, expression unreadable. “You said you’d take responsibility, right?”

Sendoh straightened. “Of course.”

“Then start with a meal.” Rukawa shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. “I’m hungry.”

A grin broke across Sendoh’s face before he could stop it. “You can count on me.”

When Sendoh asked what Rukawa wanted to eat, he expected something expensive. But to his surprise, Rukawa asked for something simple. Something that hinted at nostalgia. Maybe he was tired of all the high-end dining that came with his status. So Sendoh brought them to a lively street packed with food stalls, the air filled with the scent of grilled skewers and sizzling batter.

Rukawa pulled his sleek sports car into a tight spot near the stalls—a flashy choice that immediately drew glances. Definitely not ideal for someone trying to stay low-key. He adjusted his black cap and tugged his hoodie down to shield his face. “I can’t go out. Too many people,” he muttered.

Sendoh chuckled and gave him a confident grin. “No worries. I’ve got this. Just stay put.”

As he stepped out of the car, he shot one last glance over his shoulder. “Nice ride, by the way,” he added with a smirk before diving into the crowd.

Rukawa watched him as he disappeared from the crowd. A light smirk came out of him.

After a while, Sendoh returned with both arms full of street food, the smell instantly filling the car. Rukawa raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot.”

Sendoh shrugged, grinning. “Well, you’re an athlete—I figured you’ve got an anaconda appetite or something.”

Rukawa smirked, amused despite himself. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sendoh climbed back into the driver’s seat and buckled up. “Yeah, but I’m also thoughtful. I know a spot that’s quieter. Let’s head there.”

True to his word, Sendoh brought them to a quiet spot—an overlook by the sea, far from the city’s noise and bright lights. The sky was a blanket of stars, the moon casting silver streaks across the dark water. A gentle breeze stirred the night air, cool against their skin. In the distance, the soft crash of waves filled the silence between them.

They sat side by side on the edge of a low stone wall, feet dangling freely, the sea spread wide before them like a living canvas.

Sendoh laid out the street food between them. Skewers still warm, battered snacks wrapped in paper, a couple of drinks he managed to grab last minute.

“Go ahead,” he said, nudging the food closer. “Dig in.”

Rukawa took a bite of the freshly grilled skewer, his shoulders easing as the flavors settled in.

Sendoh watched him, relieved. “Satisfying, right? Nothing beats authentic Japanese street food.”

“Yeah,” Rukawa replied, chewing thoughtfully, already reaching for another piece.

Sendoh leaned back on his hands, stealing a glance at him. “You sure it’s okay to eat out here like this? I mean… paparazzi could be lurking. A single blurry shot and boom. Headline scandal: Japan’s No. 1 Caught on a Date by the sea.”

Rukawa merely shrugged, unfazed. “Why not, if it’s with a good-looking guy?”

Sendoh froze at the unforeseen compliment. Color crept up his neck and bloomed across his cheeks. “Wh—what did you just—”

Rukawa continued eating, as if he hadn’t just casually lit Sendoh’s nerves on fire.

Sendoh took the quiet moment to really observe Rukawa—and damn, he had grown into something else. The awkward teenager he once knew had transformed into someone striking, almost effortlessly so. The years had been kind, sculpting him into a calm, confident figure that was undeniably magnetic.

His features had matured: sharper jawline, more defined cheekbones, and that intense gaze still as unreadable as ever. But it wasn’t just the face. No, it was everything. The way his hoodie draped over his frame, hanging just right to show the subtle line of his chest and those long, lean limbs. But what caught Sendoh’s attention the most—what he couldn’t stop stealing glances at—was that slim waist.

Gah! That waist.

Trim and toned, it pulled every thread of his attention like gravity. His hoodie slightly lifted as he reached for another skewer, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband. It was nothing, really—barely a flash—but it hit Sendoh square in the chest. 

Yep. He was right that night.

Rukawa Kaede is exactly his type!

And then came that familiar scent, Rukawa’s intoxicating scent. And just like that, the memory slammed back into him—of him leaning in, breath warm, whispering how much he loved that scent. Of him losing all sense of reason, letting that same scent cloud his judgment and lead him straight into trouble.

His pulse skipped.

Shit. This is bad.

He clenched the skewer in his hand a little too tight, trying to keep his cool. But it was impossible now. Not with Rukawa sitting this close. Not with that damn scent teasing his self-control all over again.

He quickly turned his head, biting down on his skewer to distract himself. Watching Rukawa like this was dangerous. Way too dangerous.

“You mentioned at the bar, you’re coaching a university basketball team now, right?” Rukawa asked, casually popping a piece of grilled meat into his mouth.

Sendoh blinked, grateful for the shift in topic. “Yeah. That’s right.”

Rukawa nodded. “How is it? Coaching, I mean.”

Sendoh smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “It’s… fulfilling. Different kind of high compared to playing, but rewarding. Watching the kids grow, seeing them make their own names. It’s a good kind of pride.”

Rukawa turned his head slightly, regarding him with quiet interest. “Sounds like it suits you.”

Sendoh chuckled. “Well, someone’s gotta teach the new generation how to be cool on and off court.”

“I always thought you’d end up on the national team,” Rukawa said, his voice calm but sincere.

Sendoh let out a soft laugh. “It did cross my mind. A lot of people were pushing me in that direction. But when I interned at a university and got a taste of coaching… something just clicked. I found joy in it. So, I took a different path.”

“No regrets?” Rukawa asked, turning his eyes to him.

Sendoh shook his head with a small, genuine smile. “None. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Rukawa nodded slowly, the corners of his lips lifting in a rare smile. “Then that’s all that matters.”

“How’s life as a national athlete, by the way? You really made it. You’re famous now.” Sendoh asked, glancing sideways at him.

Rukawa gave a small shrug. “Same. But with annoying politics and pressure.”

“Are they pushing you too hard?”

“A little,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll keep playing. That’s what I do.”

Sendoh chuckled. “I saw that friendly game against the NBA players. You were electric out there. Even they looked impressed.”

Rukawa didn’t reply right away—he just took a slow sip of his beer and says, “A golden memory.”

“Definitely.”

A stretch of silence passed between them, the only sound coming from the gentle waves and the occasional rustle of the food wrappers.

Then Sendoh cleared his throat. “Hey… did you drink the punch last night?”

Rukawa turned to him with a blank expression, brows slightly raised. 

“I heard from my friend that your team… kind of spiked it. Said one gulp was enough to knock someone out. I figured maybe you had a glass?”

Rukawa’s eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to recall. Mitsui did gave him one or two. “That explains it.” The blurry night after drinking one or two, given by Hisashi Mitsui, is what he meant.

“Anything you remember before that? My memory’s a mess after the punch,” Sendoh asked, trying to sound casual.

Rukawa was quiet for a beat, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “I remember one thing clearly, before the punch.”

Sendoh took a bite of his grilled skewer, glancing at Rukawa expectantly.

“I was talking to Ayako-senpai… when some drunk idiot dragged me to the bar counter.”

Sendoh immediately coughed, choking on the meat. The scene is definitely something to choke up on!

“He got real touchy. Started whispering I’m handsome. Beautiful. Pretty. Playing with those words…” He shot Sendoh a look. “Then he kept sniffing my neck.”

“Stop! Please—just… time out,” Sendoh cut in, throwing up his hands as if to physically block the incoming humiliation. He cleared his throat, face burning. “I swear, that’s not me. I don’t know what the hell got into me—”

Rukawa let out a quiet scoff. “Tch. Typical.”

“I’m serious!” Sendoh groaned, running a hand down his face. “I don’t go around sniffing people like a damn bloodhound!”

Rukawa didn’t respond right away, but the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. There was definitely a flicker of amusement behind those cool eyes, but he kept it to himself, letting Sendoh writhe in awkward silence a little longer.

Sendoh sank lower, half-defeated. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Rukawa finally looked at him, deadpan. “A little, coach.”

Sendoh couldn’t help but chuckle, finally giving in. “Screw you.”

“Yeah, you did screw me.”

Sendoh snapped, his face flushing deep red from yet another shameless remark. “Knock it off already!” he groaned, desperate to steer the conversation away from further embarrassment. “Speaking of… how’s your back?” he asked, a bit more gently this time.

“The pain’s gone, My therapist says it’s nothing serious. It just need rest” Rukawa replied casually. 

“Haaa. Good to hear.” He’ll feel more guilty if what he did would cause problems on Rukawa’s career.

“I skipped practice, though.”

Guilt pricked at Sendoh’s chest. “Sorry…”

Rukawa tilted his head, amused. “Well, I had a more specific reason too.” He pulled his hoodie aside slightly to reveal the faint kiss marks trailing his neck.

Sendoh recoiled like he’d been electrocuted. “Aargh! You’re really not gonna let that go, are you?!”

Rukawa smirked, clearly enjoying every second of Sendoh’s misery. 

An elegant paper bag was suddenly placed between them. “Here,” Rukawa said simply. “It’s yours.”

Sendoh blinked, pointing at himself. “For me?”

Rukawa gave a subtle nod.

Still baffled, Sendoh reached into the bag and carefully unwrapped a sleek bottle of perfume. His eyes widened in surprise.

“You said you liked my scent,” Rukawa said, casually. “So I got you that one.”

Sendoh realized—he must’ve bought it while waiting outside the boutique earlier.

He let out a sheepish laugh, flustered. “It’s… It’s not like that,” he mumbled, turning away to hide his flushed cheeks. Under his breath, he whispered, “I only like it because it’s you who wears it…”

Rukawa’s voice cut through his thoughts. “So… you don’t like it?”

Sendoh spun back quickly. “No! I mean—I do. I like it. I’ll… treasure this. Really. Thank you.”

Rukawa gave a small, knowing smile, the kind that lingered longer than it should.

Silence settled between them, the quiet of the night wrapping around them like a soft blanket. Sendoh rubbed his fingers together, feeling the chill creep in. That’s when he noticed Rukawa was only in a sleeveless hoodie.

‘Isn’t he cold?’ Sendoh wondered, glancing at his own coat. ‘Should I give it to him? Or would that be too much?’

After a small war with himself, he sighed and slid his coat off, gently draping it over Rukawa’s shoulders. Looking away while he do so, knowing Rukawa would throw a tease in a second.

Rukawa flinched slightly at the gesture. He turned his face to Sendoh who is looking the other way, with his ear painted in red.

“I thought you might be cold,” Sendoh murmured, still looking away.

A beat of awkward silence passed before Rukawa arched a brow and smirked. “Worried about your seeds inside me? Making sure they stay warm?”

Sendoh groaned. “Sheesh, Rukawa. Can you stop saying embarrassing things?!”

“I might’ve flushed a few of your babies this morning,” Rukawa added dryly. “Not sure how many survived.”

Sendoh covered his face with a hand. “Please. Just stop.”

Rukawa let out a low scoff of amusement. “Thanks, though. Aren’t you cold yourself?”

“I’m wearing a heattech,” Sendoh muttered. “I’ll live.”

Rukawa didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t shrug the coat off either. That was enough.

Sendoh blinked, caught off guard by the brief laugh that escaped Rukawa. “Was that… a laugh?” he asked, almost in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh before.”

Rukawa looked at him, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.

“You used to be all serious back in high school. Grumpy, even. You barely spoke to anyone unless it was about basketball.” Sendoh chuckled softly. “I was actually surprised you let people take selfies with you last night. Didn’t expect that.”

“Hm.”

“Something has changed, right?”

“My agent told me to entertain requests so I don’t cause a scene,” Rukawa replied flatly. “Still a pain.”

Sendoh smiled to himself, glancing down. “Hm.”

Then Rukawa added, casually but without sarcasm, “Your company’s been a relief, though.”

Sendoh looked up, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity. His heart skipped when he saw Rukawa wearing the faintest, genuine smile.

“I’d say… last night and tonight have been the calmest I’ve felt in a long time. Thanks to you.”

Sendoh froze, stunned. His thoughts scrambled for something to say, to hold on to this fleeting moment. He didn’t want the night to end. Not yet.

Rukawa stood, brushing off his hands. “We should go. I’ve got practice tomorrow.”

No. Not yet.

Before he could stop himself, Sendoh reached out and gently caught Rukawa by the wrist. “Wait! Rukawa!”

Rukawa paused, glancing over his shoulder.

He pulled out anything he can think of to prolong the night he can’t stand to end yet. “How about… How about an ice cream? Or coffee?”

Rukawa stood in silence, blinking away.

“There’s a convenience store nearby. Want to have one?”

Sendoh felt a quiet relief when Rukawa agreed to his last request of the night. Good thing there were fewer people at this hour, so Rukawa didn’t seem too bothered hanging outside the convenience store in his usual incognito hoodie and cap.

‘Haaah… I wish time would stop.’

Sendoh kept chanting the thought in his head as he paid for the ice creams. He didn’t want this night to end. Not yet. He badly wants to spend more time with Rukawa. To feel more of him. To move closer—even just an inch closer.

He stepped out, holding out the chosen flavor.

“Here,” he said with a smile.

Rukawa took it with a small nod of thanks.

They sat side by side, silence stretching between them. The street was calm, the cool night wrapping around them like a blanket. Neither spoke, though Sendoh’s mind was anything but quiet.

He wanted to ask if they could meet again. Ask if they can exchange numbers. He really wanted to… but courage is out of reach. No words came out of him.

That’s when a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Sendoh?” a woman called from the side. He turned and saw Ayako approaching, a bag slung over her shoulder. Her eyes shifted to the guy beside him, hidden beneath a black cap and hoodie. “Wait… is that Rukawa too?”

Rukawa peeked up. “Ayako-senpai.”

Sendoh offered her the free seat. “Want to sit for a bit? I can get you something.”

Ayako smiled and waved it off. “Thanks, but I’m heading home. Overtime today.”

She looked at them both with amused suspicion. “Wow. Didn’t expect to see you two together. Did something happen last night that made you this close?”

Both men stiffened and averted their gazes, cheeks slightly tinged red. They really can’t tell the woman what happened last night, can they?

Ayako’s brow lifted at their reaction, but she didn’t press. “Anyway, Rukawa, how’s your back? Still in pain? I hope it’s not an injury.”

Both men were stunned, too stunned that they asked in unison and the same tone. “How did you know?”

Ayako blinked at their stunned expressions and unexpected reaction. “What do you mean, how? Don’t you remember? Sakuragi and Nobunaga started a brawl. In the middle of it, they bumped into you. You were already kind of groggy and wasted, so you fell so hard on your ass. Really, hard.”

Both men were still speechless as they conclude the reason behind the pain on Rukawa’s lower back.

“Anyway, you are so out of it because of the punch. I honestly want to apologize for my husband’s involvement on this crime.” she said and continued. “Hanagata told us that Fukuda booked a room for Sendoh and maybe Rukawa can fit in since it’s a suite with a king-size bed. So we drag you there inside and put you next to Sendoh.”

“Oh.” They both uttered at the same time. So that explains how Rukawa got there. 

She chuckled a bit. “Honestly, it was chaos. We laid you down and—well, Sendoh, you suddenly woke up. No clue why, but for some reason, we panicked and hid under the bed.”

Sendoh blinked. 

“I know, I know,” she laughed. “It was dumb. Then you wandered to the bathroom, clearly still drunk. That’s when Rukawa stripped his clothes off, complaining of the heat in the room, then went back to the bed.”

She turned to Rukawa. “Don’t worry Rukawa. We didn’t see anything. We’re under the bed when you do so.” she beamed. “Then when Sendoh came back…” she paused, smiling to herself, “… we heard you say something like ‘Ah, my favorite scent. You smell good.’”

Sendoh turned bright red. 

“Then there were some smooching sounds, but maybe nothing, could’ve just been the angle. But then Rukawa said, ‘Get off, you’re heavy,’ and you passed out. Right there on the floor.”

Sendoh felt dumbfounded.  

“Kogure and I dragged you back to bed when the coast was clear.” Ayako added, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck. “You were really heavy Sendoh I might’ve scratched your back a little. Sorry about that. But I disinfected it, promise!”

So that explains the scratch on his back. 

Ayako sensed the silence shift. Something about their faces made her pause… like their disappointed on her story. “Well… it’s getting late,” she said, stepping back. “I’ll leave you two to it. See you around.” And with that, she disappeared into the quiet night, leaving them alone once more

And just like that, everything was clear.

No sex had happened between them that night.

Sendoh should’ve felt relieved. Grateful even, that neither of them had taken advantage of the other while drunk. Apart from a few stray kiss marks, nothing serious had occurred. It was the best outcome, logically speaking.

But… why did it feel like a loss?

Somehow, it felt like whatever fragile connection he had with Rukawa that night… was now gone. A beautiful mistake, faded. And that made him inexplicably sad.

Just as the silence began to stretch too far, Rukawa spoke.

“Do you want to have sex?”

Sendoh’s head snapped up. His heart skipped. For a moment, he wasn’t sure he heard correctly. But Rukawa was looking ahead, face unreadable, but the pink tint rising in his ears said otherwise.

Sendoh blinked, stunned. 

It looks like Rukawa is also feeling the same way as he does.

“Y—yeah,” he answered quietly. “I do.”

Without another word, Rukawa stood. “Let’s go. My place is nearby.”

Still a little stunned, Sendoh scrambled up to follow. “O-okay.”

They walked in silence for a bit towards Rukawa’s car. Feeling awkward and, uncertain, but charged with something unspoken.

“I should… buy… things we need..,” Sendoh muttered, trying to sound casual.

“We can stop by the convenience store near my house,”

Sendoh nodded. “Ah, good.” After a beat, he added, “Have you… done this before?”

Rukawa glanced at him, then back ahead. “With a guy? No.” He didn’t hesitate. “You take the lead.”

Sendoh gave a small, nervous laugh, knowing he’ll be Rukawa’s first. “Don’t worry, I’m… pretty vanilla.”

Rukawa smirked. “Good to hear,” 

END