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"He likes reading," Haibara says around a mouthful of rice. Miraculously, not a single speck of food comes out of his mouth, even though he is speaking loudly and clearly.
Some kind of innate talent? Well, that's not Gojou's main concern at present. "Does he have a book or genre he reads a lot?"
Haibara Yu, first year high school student, ponders the question while unwrapping another rice ball. "He likes to read a lot of different things. But I guess lately he's been into poetry?"
Gojou beams. "That's perfect!"
It's perfect in theory.
Perfection hits a wall when Gojou Satoru, genius second year high school student, sits at a desk with a pen in hand and experiences the de-evolution of his mind.
His plan: Write poetry to woo Nanami. His problem: all the lines he has come up with thus far are Very Bad lines that will undoubtedly earn him Nanami's scorn instead of Nanami's affection. His page is filled with doodles of crying faces instead.
"I thought you said this was a poem, not porn," says Shouko.
"I thought you said you were quitting smoking," says Gojou.
Ieiri Shouko, second year high school student and resident black market dealer, smiles with all her teeth. "This is an e-cigarette. It's here to help me quit." She flips her short hair out of her face. "There's no tools to help you fix your shitty poetry though."
Gojou crumples the paper she hands back to him and squashes it on his desk.
"Well, maybe you can start with something simple," Shouko pauses, contemplative. "How about a haiku?"
"Oh shit, Shouko, that's perfect!"
It is perfect, in theory.
The five-seven-five pattern of a haiku, a representation of the numbers in their names together. Five in 'Gojou', seven in 'Nanami', five in 'Satoru'. Beautiful. Maybe even romantic.
Getou Suguru, second year high school track star, raises an eyebrow at the crinkled paper he holds in two hands. "Why are you writing haiku about bread?"
Head buried in his arms, Gojou replies with a muffled voice, "Because Haibara said Nanami loves bread. But bread isn't romantic, or cute?! It's just bread! I can't get poetic feelings about it."
"Well, a baguette can look like a penis. But that's not romantic, that's horny."
"Suguru, you're supposed to be helping me make this not horny?"
Getou Suguru, the most popular student at their school, folds his arms and smirks. "Nanami is a teenager too, isn't he? Maybe he's just as horny as you." He tosses the paper into Gojou's wastebasket. "Besides, that has to be better than comparing your love for him to his love for bread."
Gojou groans into his table.
"Also, how are you going to send this poetry of yours? You really going to do that 'confession love poem in his shoe locker' thing?"
"I'll write you a haiku for three thousand yen."
"That's expensive! For ONE haiku?!"
Mei Mei, college freshman and young personal investor, sips on her coffee. "Quality work for the price. You're rich enough to stomach the charge, don't be stingy."
Crunching into his cookies, Gojou gives Mei Mei a long, calculating look. "Is that the price for getting Utahime to write it?"
"Nope," Mei Mei answers cheerfully. "Getting Utahime to write it would bring the price tag to nine thousand yen."
"That's three times your price and three thousand yen per line," grumbles Gojou.
"She's an up and coming singer, you know? Her time and songwriting is very valuable." The white-haired woman leans forward. "Utahime will get a lot of satisfaction from knowing that you can't even write romantic haiku. That price? Includes me keeping it all hush hush."
Fake it to make it?
Money can buy a poem,
Yet convey the worst.
"No thanks."
He probably can't stomach trying to win Nanami's heart with someone else's words anyway.
There's the other option. But ping pong seems even less romantic than bread.
"You can stay, but—"
"I'll be good!"
Nanami Kento, first year high school student, looks at Gojou with an expression full of suspicion. Gojou plasters his Innocent Puppy Dog eyes on (it works every time) and Nanami relents with a sigh.
"All right." Hands clutching his racket, the blonde teenager glances up at Gojou. "Do you want to learn how to play? I have to practice though, so you'll have to ask the team captain or maybe the coach."
Gojou imagines for a second: Nanami holding his hand around the ping pong racket, in close proximity, maybe speaking softly in murmurs over Gojou's shoulder. Wow. Would be a great date actually. But—
"What, you can't practice against me?"
"Getou-senpai told Haibara that you don't know how to play table tennis at all," Nanami answers dryly.
The white-haired teenager makes a face. "He doesn't know that."
Nanami Kento, table tennis player since childhood, lifts his racket and asks, "What grip am I using?"
Gojou is relegated to the benches by the gym wall. His face is gloomy for all of a minute before he realizes he has a Great View from the bench. However, the Great View is briefly interrupted by Haibara, who plonks down on the bench uninvited. The boisterous first year is only forgiven because he comes with junk food for his wondrous senior, Gojou Satoru.
He consumes three sticks of Pocky before he gains enough good judgment to not ask Haibara if the shorts on the team uniform can get shorter. Instead, Gojou learns Nanami uses a shakehand grip and is an attacking chopper.
"The way he holds the racket is how you can tell," Haibara informs Gojou, his cookies and cream-flavored Pocky stick wobbling between his teeth.
Absently, Gojou wishes Haibara got soft milk-flavored Pocky instead.
Haibara shrugs, crunching into his junk food. "Nanami likes cookies and cream flavored snacks. Thanks for the chat and the pictures, Gojou-senpai, I gotta get back to photography club!"
'Attacking chopper' is five syllables, muses Gojou in front of the vending machine, rummaging for coins in his pockets. He buys three boxes of cookies and cream flavored Pocky.
Turns out Nanami is incredibly easy to bribe with food, which is probably why he's good friends with Haibara (whom Gojou has never seen without a food item in hand). Gojou understands the food bribery sentiment well, albeit he thinks he's less easy since he's mostly a sweets person. If he brings bread instead of snacks, will Nanami fall for him?
To be less than bread,
Cookies and cream flavor things,
And even ping pong.
"Are you okay, Gojou-san?"
Nope, that one is going straight down the toilet. Gojou glances at Nanami, who cradles a gifted box of Pocky in one hand and holds the strap of his racket case in the other. Of course, Gojou brilliantly saved the other two boxes for bribery shenanigans later.
"I'm totally fine. Though," Gojou pouts, shoving his sunglasses up his nose, "why don't you call me senpai?"
Nanami returns Gojou's sulk with an unamused expression. "Is there something wrong with 'Gojou-san'?"
"No, but I'm your senpai! You should call me senpai."
"I will consider it," Nanami replies in monotone, expression unchanging.
"You really don't remember the reason why he won't call you senpai?"
Gojou keeps up with Suguru's jog. "Remember? You mean something happened?"
Suguru rolls his eyes. "Something happened? YOU happened. The very first day of school, you took a bite out of Nanami's casse-croûte."
Scrunching his face, Gojou tries to remember what the hell a casse-croûte was. Oh right, Nanami had something in his hand for lunch? It smelled good and tasted good, but Gojou cannot recall what it looked like.
"You didn't only steal food from a foodie," Suguru continues. "A casse-croûte is a sandwich, Satoru. And what does a sandwich have?"
"…Bread," moans Gojou, putting a hand over his face.
Mistakes were made, dear.
Forgive my sins, Nanami,
The food looked good.
"That is one shitty haiku," observes Gojou's super-popular best friend. Despite all the jogging, Suguru barely looks like he's sweating. "Anyway, he's not going to respect a food thief, so calling you 'senpai' is probably out of the question."
Gojou scowls. "He can't hold a grudge about the casse-whatever forever!"
Nanami looks blankly into the bag. Gojou had been very careful not to swing the bag too much; he's double-checked it before handing it over too, so Gojou is a hundred and ten percent sure the casse-croûte is impeccable and undamaged.
The blonde teenager blinks up at Gojou, his big glasses sliding slightly down his nose. Oh, that's bad; he looks cute with the glasses on too. Yikes. "What is this for?"
"Uh," says Gojou eloquently. "It's an apology?"
"…For what?"
"For the, uh, the sandwich I ate. Your sandwich."
"…It's been six months."
"Right," Gojou grins sheepishly, "better a late apology than never?"
Nanami looks down in the bag again. After a long moment, he sighs. "Wait here."
Uncertainty swells,
"What am I doing?" thinks he,
Eyes glinting with hope.
Returning with his racket packed away, Nanami nods towards the dorms, and begins walking. Gojou toddles after the blonde.
"When did you get glasses?"
"I normally use contacts."
"Oh? Then why'd you wear them today?"
Nanami grimaces. He stays silent. The hand around the handle of his racket case closes tighter.
Uncomfortable with the suddenly tense atmosphere, Gojou racks his brains for an escape. Backup plan number 1: "I got a box of cookies and cream Pocky, you want some?"
His walking companion gives him an incredulous stare. "Are you becoming Haibara or something? When did you start carrying food around everywhere?"
When they enter the dorms, Nanami leaves Gojou and the precious casse-croûte in the first floor lounge. He comes back from his room with a knife.
The silver-haired student sits very still with his hands on his knees as his underclassman takes the casse-croûte out of the bag and packaging and slices the sandwich neatly into two parts. One of the parts is noticeably bigger than the other part.
Nanami hands Gojou the smaller chunk. "Apology accepted." Then he bites into his much bigger portion of casse-croûte, eyes challenging any complaints Gojou might make.
Well, a chunk is more than Gojou expected. He'll get more food later anyhow. "Why not eat the whole thing?" he wonders.
"You didn't take my whole sandwich last time. Seven-tenths is enough to make up for it."
"I'm pretty sure I only took one bite, but I will be gracious and accept the smaller piece."
"Thank you for your amazing graciousness," says Nanami with the intonation of a dead fish.
Pop! Cries the quick ball.
The game is over too soon.
The loser's heart falls.
"Teach me how to play."
Gojou rattles the last box of cookies and cream Pocky he has. Nanami doesn't look in his direction. He's seated, cross-legged, on a sandy beach; his eyes stare out at the horizon with an emotion that Gojou can't place.
"Why?"
"Why do you play ping pong?" Plopping down on the sand next to the brooding player, Gojou stretches his legs out. It's bothered him for some time, that he's never seen Nanami smile at club practice.
The long silence that follows Gojou's question ends with Nanami pulling his knees to his chest, his fingers fiddling with the zipper of the racket case on the non-Gojou-occupied side of him. "I've been playing table tennis for a long time. It's just…I thought I was a good player. But I've competed enough by now to know that I'm not as talented at the sport as others."
Resignation. That's the emotion in Nanami's eyes.
It feels tragic; Gojou sees regret there too, flickering with the waves of the sea. He understands why now.
"Want to quit?"
Nanami puts his face into his knees. "No, I don't."
Gojou throws an arm around the blonde first year just as Nanami's shoulders begin shaking. Looking at the seagulls overhead, Gojou smiles and swings his other arm around too, pulling Nanami into a hug.
"It takes a lot to love a sport for so long," he whispers. "If you don't love ping pong anymore, letting go will help."
But if you still do,
Still love and still enjoy it,
Then play it for fun.
Shouko snorts. She twirls her bangs with her finger. "I can't believe Mister Junior Nationals Gold Medalist said that."
"Stop talking about that, I quit figure skating!" Her white-haired classmate scowls.
"I remember you used to trash the other kids in your skating club that couldn't perform as well as you." Sighing, Shouko shoves her hands in her pockets, rummaging for something. "Glad you got your head out of your ass."
In his own school jacket, Gojou fingers the carton of cigarettes he lifted from her pocket earlier. "That might be the nicest thing you've said to me in a while."
She appears to give up on her search. "So? Did you manage to sneak your way into dear Nanami's heart?"
"Well about that—"
"Five seven five is
Not the most ideal form of
Communication."
When Nanami gives Gojou a look that makes him feel like he is a piece of bread growing mold in the center, Gojou tries to cover his poetry with a weird laugh.
"What I mean to say is, uuuuhhhhh…Nanami, let's date!"
"…"
On one hand, Nanami isn't making the moldy bread face anymore. On the other hand, Gojou can't quite understand the blonde teenager's expression. Is it yes? Is it no?
He ends up with an unexpectedly dumb but characteristically Nanami-like response.
"I think a relationship with you is not quite appropriate yet for a first year high school student."
Gojou's eyelid twitches. What does that even mean??? "So you'd be open to dating me when you're a second year? What's the difference?"
"…You'll have a chance to improve your poetry." Before Gojou can interject, Nanami looks at Gojou in the eye for the first time since he lost his table tennis match.
"I don't think I have become a person that someone else can like. Not yet."
"Well. So you failed, but it was because Nanami had no self-confidence. Did you send him to the school counselor?"
Puzzled, Gojou glances at Shouko. "No? Was I supposed to do that?"
Ieiri Shouko, advice columnist for the school newspaper, rolls her eyes and sighs. "I guess the super-talented gold medalist wouldn't understand the feelings of peasants like us."
"Come on already," he groans. "I just asked Nanami to teach me ping pong and also write me poetry. As compensation for rejecting me."
"Are you serious?" One look at the abnormally tall teenager confirms that he is, in fact, telling the truth. "Wow. This is why you're less popular than Suguru, you know. You're better looking than he is but he has a way better personality than you for sure. Give me my cigarettes back."
Gojou scoffs and affects an air of ignorance. "What cigarettes?"
"Maybe you should leave the art club and join the acting club," remarks Shouko. Undeterred, she reaches for his pockets. "You could use some lessons and practice."
He dodges her claws. "Can't do that, I'm getting ping pong lessons from Nanami!"
"What! He actually agreed?"
"To the ping pong lessons," Gojou answers gleefully. Then his face falters. "He said my poetry is a lost cause though."
In the end, Shouko gets her cigarettes back.
After Gojou drops them a bucket of water.
The years fly away.
Old friends fade into the past,
Yet, the ball returns.
"What the hell is this?"
"What? Oh shit—Nanami, don't look!"
Gojou Satoru, twenty-eight year old manga writer and artist, waves his hands somewhat randomly in futile hopes of convincing his opponent to release an old set of papers.
Nanami Kento, twenty-seven year old Adult of Adults, stares down at a carefully drawn and inked manuscript. One of the characters, a tall, messy-haired, sunglasses-wearing teenager pins another character to a wall, a lazy grin on his face. The other character clutches a table tennis racket to his chest, blush lines blazing on his cheeks. On the bottom left of the page is a date scribbled in pencil.
"I see," says Nanami ominously. "So this is what you did in high school art club?"
"Hey!" Unconsciously, Gojou puts his arms into a defensive position. "It's a totally fictional story! And I didn't do it for art club, it made money when I sold—"
The sound of flipping paper. "…Half of this is pornography."
"Not pornography! A tasteful sex scene! Though I drew it in high school so maybe it's not that tasteful now. The two main characters still look hot though," Gojou proclaims proudly. "My art style weathered time well!"
Nanami lets out a sigh that shook trees over a street block away. He hands the precious piece of history to Gojou, who stares at the blonde man in shock.
"Nanami?"
"'It takes a lot to love a sport for so long'," recites the man. A slight smile on an always serious face, and Gojou crumbles to dust.
"Your poetry was shitty, but you had nice lines once in a while."