丸井ブン太 (
volleygenius) wrote in
synergetic2025-02-15 11:39 pm
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Entry tags:
Drunken Confessions
The day was already impossibly long at 2. By the time he puts Yukiko to bed, it's felt like a small eternity. But the kitchen is clean, everyone has bathed, the toys are put away, the homework is checked, and the foreheads have been kissed. He even got in a good conversation with Keita about becoming a big brother after bedtime story.
Frankly, he's so tired he could go straight to bed, but drinking with Yukimura on the couch has become a cherished nighttime ritual, and he isn't about to start skipping something so hard-earned and enjoyable now. Never mind the value it had in maintaining good rapport; that was never something to take for granted.
So to the couch he goes, where Yukimura is already waiting with Hima tucked comfortably in her bassinet by his side. For a moment, Bunta is struck all over again with admiration for this man who generously opened his home to them and who has given Yukiko and Keita the same patience and care that he gives Himawari. He didn't have to come home and straight from the genkan target handling the crying toddler instead of the snuggly and content infant he'd missed all day. He could have taken Hima and left Bunta to juggle Keita's meltdown and cooking dinner. Instead, he went to the fire. He's a good father and a good person.
"We made it....!" Bunta says with as much celebration as fatigue and flops down beside him.
Frankly, he's so tired he could go straight to bed, but drinking with Yukimura on the couch has become a cherished nighttime ritual, and he isn't about to start skipping something so hard-earned and enjoyable now. Never mind the value it had in maintaining good rapport; that was never something to take for granted.
So to the couch he goes, where Yukimura is already waiting with Hima tucked comfortably in her bassinet by his side. For a moment, Bunta is struck all over again with admiration for this man who generously opened his home to them and who has given Yukiko and Keita the same patience and care that he gives Himawari. He didn't have to come home and straight from the genkan target handling the crying toddler instead of the snuggly and content infant he'd missed all day. He could have taken Hima and left Bunta to juggle Keita's meltdown and cooking dinner. Instead, he went to the fire. He's a good father and a good person.
"We made it....!" Bunta says with as much celebration as fatigue and flops down beside him.
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"We keep doing that somehow," Yukimura agreed. He's already halfway through a champagne flute.
A second champagne flute.
"Don't worry, I'll choose Keita over the boy any day."
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"You did a good thing today. Thank you."
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"Do you think he realizes this is my job...? We should leave out some pictures from when we were in school. You could be a cool dad."
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"No, the idol has been determined! Congratulations."
Bunta is certainly the last person who could blame Keita for his taste.
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"Easy to say after one day... but maybe he won't think we're too strict if he's taught early how we do things. Imagine it, though. You could teach him all of your tricks. And all of mine. But maybe we don't want him to learn mine, his opponents won't be able to appreciate tightrope walking if he's already taken their senses..."
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"Wouldn't that be interesting," he giggles. "A hybrid of our two styles. I'm looking forward to seeing how he plays."
Privately, he wonders if this development will leave Yukiko feeling left out, but that's a bridge they can cross if and when they get there.
"In any case, adding old team pictures to the house is a good idea. It'll blow his mind!"
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Yukimura won't go easy on you, of course, but... On a whim, he selects a strong whiskey for Marui and fills his glass with all the hospitality he can muster as his own sobriety slips into the night.
He started giggling. "You wouldn't mind losing in front of your kids, would you? I wouldn't feel bad about beating you, I love winning, but I'd feel bad if they felt bad. Does that make sense?"
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He's not about to slow down now, either, and enjoys another hearty swig that burns his throat in the best way.
"I don't care. They should know how strong you really are! How thoroughly you destroy my genius tennis skills is a fine testament. Some doubles with Sanada and Jackal would be fun too, though."
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The kids would surely still agree if they made it an ice cream date, but Bunta's interest is more piqued on the note of romantic lament.
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He finished his glass quickly, spilling just enough to clarify to himself that, yes, he was getting drunk. If not already drunk.
"I don't. If I was sober it wouldn't even cross my mind, but it's funny how different it is, maybe? When I'm working with the boy, people hardly notice me anymore. I haven't been gone that long, have I? But he hates the attention more than I do, so that makes up for it somewhat."
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Yukimura misses the attention, doesn't he? The recognition and admiration. And who can blame him? He's grown up with a reputation of the strongest, celebrated and revered both among his inner circle and well beyond that. It's hard to lose things.
Bunta drains his glass again.
"Who knows. Fame is fickle. There are a lot of shiny things and special people out there. But nothing has changed for the people who know you."
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"I'm lucky the people who know me have stuck around as long as they have," Yukimura acknowledges, raising his glass in an uncoordinated kind of toasting motion. "Especially since I've been away from home so much. All of you have gone on and started real lives, while I've still just been doing what I've been doing since I was a kid, but... at least I'm catching up now."
Himawari seemed to smile in her sleep.
"Somewhat. Out of order."
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"It's good to have you back home, though." In that moment, the alcohol sends a wave of content sleepiness through him. Bunta melts back against the couch, slumping against Yukimura's side with his head 90% resting against the seat back and just a little on Yukimura's shoulder.
"You've been missed..."
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"I don't think it'd be too homelike without you and the kids," he said ruefully. "So... I'm glad you missed me somewhat."
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He can blame the booze for the flush spreading across his cheeks and the dopey grin he almost fights through a quiet giggle.
"You have no idea. But you got to live out your dream. That made me happy to see."
Worth every kneecap.
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And he hadn't thought much about the lives his friends were building back home. He'd come home briefly, take his turn as the out-of-town uncle, and while he'd enjoyed it, he'd always been planning his next match.
"Ah, how drunk are you? Your face is as red as your hair," he says bluntly, train of thought derailed at the sight. He must be pretty drunk too, what with the inability to say that more delicately, and laughs at himself.
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"Is it? Well, I feel good. This is a nice end to the day."
In all kinds of ways. He lets his eyes slip closed, and his mind fall into neutral.
"You smell nice."
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"After the baby spit up on me twice? If you want to flatter me, put some effort into it."
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"You smell really nice!"
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"I should charge you rent for using me as a pillow. Four out of ten on that line, too. And Himawari probably spit up on that shoulder. I don't remember which one she was on. Cuddle at your own risk."
He settles down into the couch, every word still infused with a giggle.
"But you change as many diapers as I do so maybe not. Maybe you should charge me rent, or something. A prenup. Something. What's left to drink? Or have I had enough?"
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"Are you proposing to me? You didn't have to get me drunk for that! --Probably."
He leans over and grabs the nearest not-empty bottle he sees, holds it in offering.
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"Isn't that a funny image? Usually you get someone drunk so they'll sleep with you right? I'd have to be... to be more devious than the average man to wring a whole marriage out of it. Or more handsome. One of those. Both, probably."
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"That's true... but since it's you we're talking about, I don't have any doubts you could accomplish whatever you wanted."
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"Mm, only... only in physical things. Emotional things, that's you and your magic. I have no power there."
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