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“Suu-chan.”
Tsukasa is wary.
It isn’t that he’s wary of Ritsu , necessarily — the first few times Ritsu pressed so close that Tsukasa could feel Ritsu’s breath on his neck and the phantom press of the fangs he claims (and seems ) to have against his skin made Tsukasa wary, sure, but that was over a year ago. Tsukasa isn’t the same naive, fresh recruit trying to prove himself to seniors that couldn’t seem to care less, and Ritsu is… well, largely the same, but at least now whenever he says in that syrupy-sweet voice that sends a shiver down Tsukasa’s spine that he’s going to drink Tsukasa’s blood, Tsukasa knows it’s from a place of genuine affection, albeit usually also to tease him.
No, what Tsukasa is wary of here is subtler — not so much Ritsu as it is all of the things Ritsu must think he’s still too unobservant and dense to notice. The lilt of the familiar nickname; the sparkle of mischief from half-lidded eyes; the way he leans forward, almost imperceptibly, towards Tsukasa.
Still, Tsukasa sees all this — Tsukasa sees all this and says, “Yes, Ritsu-senpai?” because he’s more observant now but he’s still polite , and he can’t lie and say he isn’t at least a little interested in what Ritsu is so clearly about to do.
Ritsu waits a beat before he responds. It would be unnoticeable — if Tsukasa weren’t already used to this, to trying to figure out if this near-imperceptible pause was simply due to tiredness, or Ritsu playing Tsukasa like a piano, artfully coaxing reactions from him like he can predict Tsukasa’s every move. (And he probably can, if Tsukasa is being honest. He has been made quite aware of just how easy he is to read.)
“Play chess with me,” Ritsu says after what feels like an eternity. “I’ve been practicing. Mm, maybe I can finally take the lead…?”
“Unlikely,” Tsukasa says, “but I am interested in seeing your attempts.”
He can’t quite remember when this became a regular thing, their chess games. Sometimes it’s a game played slowly, over the course of a few days, moves made whenever they have the time and pieces standing solidly on the board as they move between bustling practices and busy classes and busier work schedules until it reaches an inevitable conclusion. Sometimes they drag a proper chess timer out of wherever they’ve forgotten it now and play games that last no longer than a minute or three, when that’s all they can spare. It’s rare — and even more rare, now that Tsukasa is the leader and there’s new members to train and half of their core is in Europe, most of the time — that they can sit down and play a full game, but Tsukasa relishes every moment they manage to.
It helps that Ritsu is a more than adequate opponent. Tsukasa likes to think he’s quite good at chess, between the thousands of games he’s surely played in his youth against tutors and adults of various skills, but Ritsu can consistently give him a fight on the black-and-white battlefield. They haven’t been recording their wins — not in any official manner, at least — but by Tsukasa’s last count he was two wins ahead of Ritsu, which is less than he had expected and yet enough that he does not feel as though his wins were unearned, that there were no real battle to be fought here.
There’s no words exchanged as Tsukasa pulls out the chessboard and Ritsu clears off the nearest flat surface to hold it, no words that need to be shared as they prepare the board. It’s a comfortable silence, or at least it feels like one.
Tsukasa won the last game, so Ritsu gets the white pieces. The games always start the same, particularly when Tsukasa starts with the black pieces; he’s a fan of familiarity, and Ritsu — in all his unconventional glory — at least recognizes how opening with the white pawn moving to E4 makes for the most interesting games. And if there’s anything Tsukasa has learned about Ritsu, it’s that he hates to be bored.
Tsukasa responds by moving his black pawn to meet Ritsu’s white one, in the middle of the board. Standard. Tsukasa has all but forgotten about the brief moment of wariness he felt earlier, when Ritsu suggested this game.
Ritsu’s fingers skim over the tops of the pieces — wooden, regrettably; Tsukasa would have loved to bring one of his favoured carved sets in, for the satisfying weight of the pieces between his fingers and the pleasant noises they make when set down on an equally stone board, but ultimately decided that they were too valuable to kept at school all of the time — and the wariness returns, briefly. Ritsu is never hesitant in chess unless he’s toying with Tsukasa, and Tsukasa cannot for the life of him figure out what angle Ritsu is pressing.
“Suu-chan,” Ritsu says, and there it is again — the telltale lilt, the singsong that Tsukasa would love because of how sweet the nickname sounds in Ritsu’s mouth if it weren’t for the fact that it was always, always coupled with something meant to embarrass Tsukasa. “Have you ever heard of the bongcloud opening?”
“Bongcloud…?” Tsukasa repeats. The way Ritsu pronounced the word makes it seem to him like it may be English, originally, but he cannot for the life of him remember any English he’s learned that matches. He shakes his head. “No, I cannot recall ever having learned an opening by that name. Why?”
Ritsu grins — it is a slow and quietly feral thing, and a shiver works its way down Tsukasa’s spine. “Because,” Ritsu says, and his elegant fingers stop skimming over the pieces and grasp the king firmly by its crown, walking it one square forward and letting it fall back against the board with a resounding clack , “I’m going to beat you with it.”
Tsukasa cannot help himself — he gapes.
Mouth dropped wide from shock — he knows it is not exactly polite, and yet Tsukasa is so immensely baffled at this moment that he can’t quite find it in himself to care. “That is,” Tsukasa says, voice wrought through with disbelief, “an incredibly awful opening, Ritsu-senpai.”
“I’m aware,” Ritsu says, amused.
“And you plan on beating me? With that opening?”
Ritsu’s tongue darts out briefly, licking along his upper lip. “Yep.”
Tsukasa stares at him for a long, long moment.
Ritsu pouts — it’s so cute that it’s almost unfair, particularly considering Ritsu is nearly two years older than Tsukasa. “Come on , Suu-chan, play the game.”
He stares at Ritsu for another moment. Surely Ritsu isn’t serious.
Ritsu stares back at him, unblinking.
Great. He’s serious.
Tsukasa picks up one of his knights. “I hope you are prepared for the swift taste of defeat,” he says, placing the knight down diagonally behind his pawn.
Ritsu’s eyes seem to glint, red and sparkling and a little dangerous. “Mm… we’ll see about that, Suu-chan .”
This time, Tsukasa knows with certainty that the shiver dancing along his back is out of anticipation.
-
“So what you’re saying,” Izumi says, slowly drinking in the way Tsukasa has buried a very-red face in his hands and Ritsu looks like the cat who got the cream and then some, “is that Kuma-kun used a really stupid chess opening on you. And that he not only beat you with it the first time—” Tsukasa groans, and Ritsu’s grin widens in tandem, “—but the next two games after, as well?”
“Secchan’s so smart,” Ritsu says, not even trying to disguise the smugness in his voice.
“Ritsu-senpai,” Tsukasa says, voice strained and words muffled behind his fingers, “ please .”
It isn’t quite clear what Tsukasa is begging for, but the sight amuses Izumi nonetheless.
“You should have seen him when I told him what a bongcloud actually was,” Ritsu informs Izumi pleasantly, like he’s talking about the weather or what they learned in class that day. “I thought he was going to pass out.”
“I was not— !” Tsukasa squawks, fingers falling from his face so that he can give an incredibly undignified and downright adorable glare to Ritsu, face all red and voice flustered. “You—! Why do I even—”
“Because you love me,” Ritsu teases. Tsukasa groans, and his scarlet face once again disappears beneath his own hands.
“I’m never playing chess with you again,” Tsukasa says.
“Yes, you are~” Ritsu singsongs, reaching up to Tsukasa’s face until he can loosely grab his wrists and twine their fingers together.
Tsukasa sighs. “Yes, I am,” he repeats, and there’s a fondness that permeates any exasperation found in his voice.
It’s gross. They’re gross and sickening and Izumi doesn’t know nearly enough about chess to understand whatever weird courting ritual is going on here.
“Right, well,” Izumi says, and from the way Tsukasa seems almost startled at the sound of Izumi’s voice, he’s going to hazard that his lovely, bratty, red-haired junior had completely forgotten he was here, “I’m going to go find Leo-kun before he gets us both kicked out for writing music on someone’s wall. You two have fun playing chess, or flirting, or whatever it is you’re doing.”
Ritsu sticks his tongue out. “Don’t be jealous, Secchan. It isn’t a good look on you.”
“Excuse you, I look good in everything,” Izumi replies. Ritsu grins, and Izumi returns it easily, albeit with a wry twist. “Kick Kasa-kun’s ass with that bongcloud, or whatever. God knows he needs it.”
Tsukasa groans. Ritsu’s grin widens. Izumi sighs fondly, rolls his eyes, and leaves.