this story ends in light

 

Yukimura pushed his bento a little towards Niou, in case Niou wanted to graze. "I'm very happy for you," Yukimura said.

 

Niou rolled his eyes. "For the team, buchou," he said. Niou freely admitting to team spirit was such a rare occurrence that Yukimura's attention sharpened instantly. "Mori-senpai might as well have already graduated, we need an eighth or it'll get boring. So I found a guy. Yagyuu Hiroshi, 2A. Disciplinary committee member, student council pres, golfer."

 

"Oh, Sanada's classmate? With the..."

 

"The glasses, yeah."

 

Yukimura said, "Hmm."

 

"He's a dangerous guy," Niou said. 

 

"He's a member of the golf club," Yukimura said. 

 

Niou grinned, a sharklike conspiratorial gleam of teeth. "Not for much longer." He leaned forward, tipping the chair onto two legs. "Trust me, this is someone who belongs on the team."

 

"Can he play tennis?"

 

"He will," Niou said. "I'll take care of that part."

 

Yukimura raised an eyebrow. "I can't let you skip out on club practice just to work on your pet project, you know." He lifted a piece of grilled mackerel with his chopsticks and waved it in offer. Obligingly, Niou opened his mouth and allowed himself to be fed. "Sanada will get on my case about playing favourites again." Sanada was yet to realise that Yukimura's favouritism actually typically manifested in a shorter leash, a more ruthless hand. He went easy on Niou because he knew Niou liked to be contrary and would end up driving himself harder than even Yukimura could. So Yukimura let Niou have his distance, and without fail Niou came slinking back to Yukimura of his own volition every time. Occasionally he even brought gifts with him. 

 

"I told you, I'll take care of that part." Niou's chin lowered to rest on his crossed arms over the back of the chair, watching for Yukimura's response with his incisive calculating predator's gaze. 

 

Though Yukimura was careful to keep his expression neutral, already he was drawing up a ranking match tableau in his head, fitting it against the club practice schedules for the rest of the month. Yagyuu Hiroshi would have to try out like every other club member, but Yukimura did trust Niou's eye for the hidden, the inert minefields lying beneath the surface, anything that could be baited out. Yukimura would get Yagyuu to play Yanagi first, to quantify that potential. Niou would have to take responsibility for his candidate, though. Maybe Yukimura would assign them doubles practice together; he wanted Yanagi and Akaya freed up for singles if he needed them, and Marui always performed better with Jackal than with Niou. 

 

Yukimura popped some grilled mackerel into his own mouth and chewed thoughtfully. If this gamble of Niou's paid off he'd have his perfect championship team, one he'd constructed himself, the last gear slotting neatly into place. So many options for singles, so many options for doubles, the playbook of strategies available to him multiplying itself over and over. Choice was valuable. Having that luxury was the right of those at the top. In his mind's eye the iridescent path to three consecutive victories gained another shade of definition, a knife's edge of brightness.

 

He swallowed. He said, "How long until you can get him to give up on golf?"

 

"Friday," Niou said. One of Yukimura's pens had somehow materialised in his hands and he was spinning it idly between his fingers, the silver cap flashing in and out of view, glint of fishscales in dark water. Glint of light off Yagyuu's glasses as he exchanged pleasantries with Yukimura whenever they happened to pass one another in the corridors. The net cast out and tightening. "I've already got him hooked, he just hasn't realised it yet. Puri."

 

Looking at the tilt to Niou's mouth it rather sounded like the other way around to Yukimura, but he chose to refrain from commenting. Anything that inspired this unprecedented level of interest in Niou was worth entertaining. "If you can get his registration form to Yanagi by the end of the month, I'll arrange a special tryout session. Don't let me down, Niou."

 

Unfolding his frame from the chair, Niou said, "When have I ever?" He saluted, then strolled back out of the classroom.

 

Yukimura watched Niou disappear. "I wonder," he murmured. Apropos of nothing his fingers went nerveless, chopsticks slipping out of his slack grip and landing across his bento box, noisy clack of metal on lacquered wood. He frowned and shook out his hand. The tremor was gone. Good; he had a haul to reel in.