They both hated to be labelled. Hence their dismissal when people asked or made assumptions.
“Are you gay? Really? I thought…”
“Problem?” (Acerbic retort)
“Not at all. Course not.”
“Idiot!” (Muttered under his breath)
“Bisexual? How does that even work?”
“None of your business, mate.” (Vexed)
“Sorry, that was uncalled for. Just…you know…curious.”
“So, you ask everyone about their sexual preferences?” (Angry now)
***
None of them could understand why their relationship should matter so much to complete strangers who’d only read about them in the papers.
“People are idiots, John.” (Followed by an affectionate eyeroll)
“Tell me about it!” (Exasperated, followed by a fond smile)
***
“Martha, thank God I ran into you!” (Voice coated in sensationalism)
“Marie. It’s been too long.” (Restrained coldness barely covered by politeness)
“What is the latest development?” (Vulture-like gaze)
“Oh, you know. Brexit seems to be happening, the Queen is still going strong, and the French are driving tractors down the Champs-Elysees.” (Tone full of innocence)
“Not exactly what I meant, Martha.” (Defeated)
***
“You won the pool.” (A confident statement)
“I don’t know what you’re on about, Sherlock.” (Feigned ignorance)
“Those shoes are only sold in a part of London you rarely frequent, Gordon. (Eyebrows vanishing under fringe)
“What do you know about where I shop for clothes anyway?” (Suspicion)
“That brand is only sold where my brother purchases his shoes.” (Smiling creepily)
***
“What are you doing, my love?” (Concerned frown appearing)
“Erasing my memory.” (Muffled voice from inside the freezer)
“Stop that. The peas are beginning to thaw, Sherlock!” (Affectionate)
“But John! I just discovered that Mycroft is dating Gavin.” (Sincere distress)
“Oh, God! Do you have room for my head in there as well?” (Making gagging noises)
“This is why I adore you, John Watson.” (Heartfelt admission)
“Let me take you to bed. I will make you forget anything but my name.” (Purring like a lion in rut)
***
“Good, lord, what are they up to now?” (Frantic search through drawers)
“Ah, there you are, my darling!” (Inhaling herbal drug)
Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial using the prompt #FFF347 - rumour mill. This happened during the Score 6 of the manga, episode 5 of the anime’s first season. The fated meeting between an idol and his fan, about these two coaches who relive their skating years through their students. This is about Tsukasa and Jun, but mostly Jun’s POV. The story why he still has Inori’s towel. No spoilers unless you haven’t seen the anime nor read the manga.
—
Fandom: Medalist (anime and manga)
Characters: Tsukasa Akeruaji, Jun Yodaka, Inori Yuitsuka, mention of Hikaru Kamisaki
Word count: 1028
THEY called Jun Yodaka the monolith of modern Japanese figure skating, a living legend. Retiring at the tender age of 20 no one would have prepared him the consequences of meeting this little girl’s coach. She poured something liquid-ish on his face after she did the same thing to him a few minutes ago in order to wake them up.
For a small water bottle, the content was endless.
She was out of danger, that’s good. Lost her footing when she stepped back from the stairs that Jun had to grab her and save her from hitting her head or damaging her bones. It knocked the wind out of him. If memory served him well he saw her weeks ago. A child was loitering outside the Howa Sportsland Skating Rink after he kicked a bin. This was the same child and the man lying there was his coach, according to her.
Jun knew him. He saw him before. Of course, how could he forget.
It was not a long time ago when he stood at the bleacher as one of the spectators of that year’s All-Japan’s ice dance competition. The daughter of his former coach, Sho Takamine, was skating with a much younger ice dancer. Their show was polished and flawless, but the botched lifting ruined their chances of stepping on to the podium.
The graceful figure gliding on the pristine-white sheet of ice with his long legs became the highlight of that performance. He carried his partner’s body like a part of himself, as if he had grown a third leg. His dancing was thorough and the way he moved his fingers stuck in Jun’s mind. It took his breath away.
But something changed. The white t-shirt, now soaking wet from the tea, displayed well-defined muscles on the chest and abdomen. It was beautiful to look at.
He is bulkier.
Slowly Tsukasa opened his eyes uttering the girl’s name which Jun didn’t quite catch.
“Good thing your coach is alive.” Jun remarked. He didn’t have any opinions on the girl’s solution of bringing them back to life. Without blinking Jun and the younger man’s eyes met. It was a mixture of dread and bewilderment registered on those golden yellow irises.
The man across him was still speechless after his failed attempt to scold the child.
“Have you got a towel?” Jun asked the girl, who opened her pink backpack and produced a pink towel with graphics on it.
He heard synchronous gasps when drying his hair. Blame the tuft of white strands on his right head. But thank god, the press stopped hounding him. He was not certain if it was better to be forgotten.
“Mister, you look like the Olympic gold medalist Jun Yodaka when you push your hair back.”
“I get that a lot. It is because that’s who I am,” he said drying his hair while looking intently at Tsukasa. He knew the face of an admirer. The blush on the younger man was so obvious.
“You there, you are a competitive ice dancer, aren’t you?”
Jun wanted to break the ice by mentioning to him the day he saw his performance at the competition wanting to praise him in his own way.
“I.. can’t believe that you, of all people, would say that to me…” The man was visibly shaken and was on the verge of crying.
Jun, whose lopsided smile even made the other one more nervous, thought it was charming. He should research his name again.
“Ah! Hikaru!” The child blurted out.
Jun didn’t want to bring the issue with Hikaru at all.
“I already sent her home. She has lessons today.” His hair was still wet.
“Sir, are you Hikaru’s coach?” Jun didn’t have any response to that. His appearance in Nagoya was an open secret. Schinichiro, who was Hikaru’s official coach, mentioned that if an avid fan would see him hanging around the neighbourhood, a rumour mill might start in a second, which was the last thing he needed. No one knew his direct involvement with her so he didn’t say anything.
Ah, this is bothersome.
When the child blabbered that Hikaru must wait for her to improve her skills so she could compete with her someday, Jun saw her insignificance. The blood, sweat and tears that he experienced would never match someone else’s pain. Perhaps it was arrogance. He accepted it. The only thing that could make him fulfilled was skating on ice. At the same time he was never happy and still searching. Funny that. An irony that he was trying to solve all his life.
So when the girl told him that she would improve in a short time to be at par with Hikaru’s prodigious skill, he scoffed at her.
It went downhill from there as soon as the man in front of him hastily stood up.
He looked down at Jun.
“I think it is best to take back your statement! Do you have any idea the weight of your words to a child especially coming from an Olympic medalist just as yourself?!” His face was grim. A complete opposite from his puppy adoration minutes ago. Jun witnessed his contempt and so far, his disappointment.
He didn’t expect the young man to be this passionate about making the girl’s dream bear fruits when his ward only had preliminary levels in ice skating.
“That’s specifically you beating me!”
“It doesn’t matter who you are or what am I. I’d give my life to make this girl’s dream come true!”
What a bold statement.
“Inori, come! Your mother is waiting.” He took the child’s hand, and faced him again. “Good night.”
He found himself still seated on the floor even after the two left.
“That’s s enough human interaction for the day… I guess.”
He touched his jet-black hair. It was still a bit damp but sticky. In his hands was the pink towel that belonged to the girl. It didn’t look bad at all. I might as well keep it.
So he did. After all, Jun was certain that he’d meet the girl and her interesting coach again one day.
~ tbc ~
“Gladys!” Mrs. Hudson put her teacup and saucer down noisily on the side table.
“She’s just saying what she just heard…”
“That’s enough, Gladys!” Mrs. Turner shot the other woman a vicious look.
“Doctor Watson has just lost his wife! That poor baby is now motherless! He doesn’t need to hear about a mysterious bloke with five different descriptions that you lot just heard these past two days alone.” She stood brushing down her skirt. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Mrs. Hudson smiled as she left, hearing Mrs. Turner berate the woman for again ruining their get-together with gossip and rumors regarding the death of Mary Watson.
Text: Planted rumors still claim a mysterious man. Boys are looking for him.
Text: Who are we to fight fate? I wish them luck in finding him.
Weeks ago:
The man looked around, then quietly locked the door of the unassuming duplex before making his way up the stairs to the street. It was that idyllic time before the storm of children coming home from school and adults from work in the residential area. He was counting on it.
It left a twinge of nostalgia for a childhood long gone, and a twinge of guilt for the now-motherless little girl left behind. The little girl will be fine. It will be taxing on her father for a while, but such is life. Or death in this case.
He lumbered to the bus stop two stops away before boarding. He loosened the tie, freeing the white hair from under the cap, by the next stop. The blue puffer vest is shoved into the floral carryall pulled from inside the coat, changing his body shape to hers, and so on until…
Several kilometers away, the flowy dress under her coat oscillated in the soft breeze as she stepped off the bus. She calmly strolled to a major intersection where she stepped into the red Asti Martin.
Martha Hudson asked her very happy travel companion. “Mission good?”
"Somebody has put a bullet in my boy. And if I ever find out who, I shall turn absolutely monstrous."
“Yes,” Violet Holmes smiled viciously, “A very good mission.”