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The moment Minato’s bow reached the apex of its draw Shuu knew something was wrong. The smooth motion of Minato’s arm stuttered as he drew the string back, his anchor hand flinched while holding the draw instead of holding firm and steady as usual. The harsh sound of Minato’s breath was cut off by the terrible twang of a string snapping, a terrible mockery of its normal melody.
Shuu found himself out of his seat and partway across the floor before he noticed that he had moved. Minato was instantly surrounded by his teammates of course, and they were shooed away gently by an official and their coach. The health professional on staff hustled Minato away from spectators before anyone could see much but there was a crimson smear on the front of Minato’s gi.
His chest felt tight, he could feel it rising and falling rapidly with the harshness of his breaths. The officials had herded them all back to the changing rooms until the hubbub died down but soon they would restart the competition and his team was shooting next. He had to pull himself together.
Don’t think about Minato’s shocked inhale, eerily loud in the hush of the competition hall. Don’t think about the way Minato staggered back a few steps, hand still clutching his bow because even injured, he would never let his weapon clatter to the floor. Don’t think about the blood pouring down Minato’s face, into his deep green eyes. His eyes, oh god, what if the string had damaged his eyes?
Time ticked away, he vaguely registered his teammates talking, the twins’ breathless speculation, Yushima’s admonitions, but everything felt very far away. He couldn’t tell if things were moving very fast or very slow. He rested his hands on his knees, closed his eyes, and tried to even out his breathing.
The call to restart came too soon, seemingly only moments later. Shuu did his best to even out his expression, marshaling every ounce of composure he had learned in the last few years. Controlling his emotions and maintaining a calm demeanor was what he did best, wasn’t it? He might not be living up to his own expectations because even the Sugawaras gave him questioning looks as they filed back out to the main dojo.
Shuu scanned the gathered crowd, his eyes immediately snapping to the Kazemai team. Everyone was there except Minato and their coach, maybe a bad sign. But the rest of the team didn’t look upset, maybe a good sign.
He moved through the motions, thanking the gods that many years of practice and competition had firmly ingrained the steps. He watched his teammates shoot with detachment, they did perfectly well, one or two even better than he expected. Perhaps they were trying to provide him with more of a buffer in case their anchor let them down.
And then it was his turn.
Muscle memory carried him through the opening steps and then it was just him and his bow and the target. And Minato’s injury. He didn’t protect him back in middle school and he couldn’t protect him now. Had Minato’s target shyness been connected to the accident? He didn’t like to talk about it. Maybe that fateful afternoon Minato had been staring at the red, red, center of the target and all he could see was blood. His mother’s blood? His own? It would be enough to make anyone panic.
He might be panicking now, actually. But still he drew his bow, smoothly, inexorably back. Held the string and tried to even out his breath. He couldn’t keep himself from closing his eyes the moment before he released the arrow. The solid tap let him know that it hit, apparently just to the left of center. He exhaled slowly and did it again. And again.
Finally he was out of arrows, he had finished. And somehow they had managed to keep their score high enough to move on to the next round of the tournament. Shuu would allow himself to appreciate that and congratulate his team at some point. Later.
Right now all he could think about was checking on Minato. He saw the other Kazemai students circled around their coach who seemed to be giving them an update. Could he edge close enough to hear what they were saying without attracting any attention? He stowed his equipment with ruthless efficiency and edged around other groups of students, straining his ears to catch any scrap of the conversation.
He must not have been as subtle as he hoped. Their coach, Masa-san if he remembered correctly, quickly wrapped up his announcements, dismissing his students with an encouraging smile as Shuu passed by. But before he could lament his timing, the coach caught his eye and beckoned him over.
Shuu turned quickly, shifting awkwardly into a polite bow. “Masa-sensei, is Misa-”
“He’s fine, Fujiwara-kun.” Masa-san sounded mildly amused.
Shuu’s outrage caught in his throat. Did he think this was funny? He saw what Shuu and everyone else saw. The string snap right in Minato’s face, the blood -
“He’s being patched up in the back. He’d like to see you.”
The words echoed in Shuu’s head. ‘He’d like to see you.’ That probably meant Minato was ok. He could… see at least, right?
Masa-san’s bemused voice snapped him out of his distraction. “Seems like you want to see him too. Through the door, take a left.”
Shuu knew he ought to bow again, thank Masa-san politely for the information, mind his manners but the only thing he could do was flee from that knowing gaze and calm smile.
Minato looked up from where he was sitting on a padded bench when Shuu entered the room. He’d swapped out his blood-stained uniform top for a clean t-shirt, though bizarrely, he was still wearing hakama. A large white bandage covered the ridge of Minato’s brow, nearly obscuring his right eye but not quite. Shuu’s breath gusted out in relief. It seemed like Minato’s eyes were not damaged.
He took one then two hesitant steps closer before Minato spoke.
“I won’t tell you I’m not injured, but it really is minor,” Minato’s voice was soft, his eyes earnest, like he was projecting every bit of his belief into Shuu. “I promised Masa-san I would tell you properly.”
Shuu found himself across the room, only inches away from Minato. He felt his brow crease in a small frown. “You didn’t last time. With the accident. Or the target shyness.”
Minato smiled ruefully, the bandage giving him a rakish, delinquent look that didn’t suit his face at all. “I’m trying to get better about talking about these things with people I care about.”
“People you –”
“Ignorance doesn’t suit you, Shuu,” a small chuckle softened the comment as Minato looked up at him consideringly.
“I see.” Shuu weighed his words. They used to be very close friends, practice partners then teammates who saw each other every day. Surely that’s what Minato meant. He nodded, “I care about you as well.”
Minato smiled a little more like something was funny and Shuu hadn’t quite picked up on it yet. He reached out one hand, palm up like he was offering something. “I really am sorry you had to see that. It must have been frightening.”
That sentence sank into Shuu’s brain like a pebble tossed into the surface of a calm lake and suddenly words were falling out of Shuu’s mouth before he could think about them. “It was terrifying. There was so much blood. And the sound of the string snapping and you were all the way across the dojo, there was no way I could get to you. The string was so close to your eyes, I saw it happen and I couldn’t stop it.”
He trailed off into mildly horrified silence but Minato did not push him away and leave the room. He didn’t tell Shuu to leave either. He just looked down pointedly at his own hand, still stretched out, like he was waiting for something.
Shuu found himself reaching back before he could think better of it.
Minato took his hand and linked them together, ever so gently running his thumb over Shuu’s knuckles. “I knew it felt strange when I drew. It was tight, wrong somehow but I held it anyway. Sometimes these things happen.”
Shuu stepped even closer, agitated, and Minato tipped his head back a bit to meet his eyes. “They should’ve checked your equipment more thoroughly, you could have gone blind -”
“And I could’ve been killed years ago in that car accident,” Minato cut him off smoothly. “But I wasn’t. And I wasn’t permanently injured here either.”
Shuu struggled to catch his breath and when his voice came out hoarse it took him a few moments to realize that he might be tearing up. “I have this dream sometimes that I’m there. Back then. Only we’re both the ages we are now and you’re alone. I can see the car coming, I know what’s going to happen and I’m running to help you, to get you out of the way. But every time I move the distance just stretches between us. It’s not far and I’m moving fast but it just stretches and stretches and I can’t get to you.”
He looked down to see drops spattered over their joined hands. He was crying after all. “I’m an arrow that never reaches the target.”
Suddenly Minato pulled his hand, unbalancing him and he stumbled forward. Minato caught him around the shoulders and drew him into an embrace. Before he fully realized what was happening Shuu found himself sinking into Minato’s arms, his forehead on Minato’s shoulder, his tears soaking into his shirt.
“That’s not going to happen, Shuu. Next year we’ll be going to university and we’ll be on the same team.”
Over the last year of school and regular competition they’d begun talking and meeting again. They’d discussed university a few times but nothing specific. Shuu made a quiet sound of inquiry into Minato’s shoulder.
Minato continued, raising his free hand to gently rest on the back of Shuu’s head. The gentle pressure felt like a promise. “We’ll be teammates again and you take care of me. We’ll take care of each other.”
“Promise,” Shuu’s question was only slightly shaky as he got himself under control.
Minato pulled back slightly so he could look up at Shuu again with a small smile. Shuu found that his heart was racing once more but it wasn’t the same panic as before. Minato must have noticed the change because his smile grew and he drew a hand into Shuu’s hair to tug him closer.
“Promise. Now, to seal it with a kiss.”