She needed a proper post so here we go! I COMPLETELY revamped her design, we could say this is her hero costume version 2, lol. (i overcomplicated it to heck but I will find ways to simplify it.)
izumida touichirou/kishigami komari; minor manami sangaku/midousuji akira
5.1 k | rated t for language
Izumida ends up with a crush on the one person who might be able to appreciate how much work he puts into his body. Komari might have found someone who appreciates him for who he is without judgement.
Noticing Kishigami Komari is inevitable; he stands at Midousuji’s side whenever Kyoto Fushimi is together as if trying to hide in his shadow, to avoid being seen. His cotton candy blue hair and small smirk draw attention. At least, they draw Izumida’s attention. He should probably be paying attention to whatever Kuroda is currently saying to him but his eyes are over his co-captain’s shoulder and on the quiet boy only a few meters away. This is unlike him; Izumida’s iron will has shaped not only his body over time but also his focus and his mind, and it rarely wanders away from him.
“Touichirou!” Kuroda waves a hand in front of his face and Izumida blinks several times to focus his vision on his friend once more. “Unbelievable. You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said.”
Izumida tries for a playful smile that fades when he realizes Kuroda is staring at him very hard now, no doubt trying to figure out what had drawn his attention. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out on you. Just start over from the beginning and tell me what you were trying to say.”
“You’re staring at something. What is it?” Kuroda turns around as if to look and Izumida grabs his shoulders, forces him to turn back around and holds him there a moment.
“It’s nothing. I’m not staring at anything, I was just zoning out.” The slight level of panic in his voice probably gives him away from the way Kuroda’s eyes narrow at him, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Just start over and tell me what you were saying. I’m listening this time.”
Without a pause, Yuuto betrays him. “He’s staring at one of the Kyofushi team members.”
Kuroda’s mouth drops open. “What? Why? Is it Midousuji? You know better than to let him get to you like that no matter what nasty thing he’s doing with his tongue. Or is it Mizuta? I know he’s the captain now, but that doesn’t mean anything. Midousuji is the one in charge anyway. None of them rest of them are all that interesting and—”
“Wrong,” Yuuto remarks, and Izumida scowls at him. “Don’t look so pressed, captain. Kishigami is cute, after all. I probably would have zoned out staring at him, too.”
“I wasn’t staring at him!” Izumida insists, though he knows how weak that sounds.
Kuroda pushes his hands away, his eyes widening. “Kishigami, the one who has a thing for muscle? Or no, he doesn’t say muscle, does he? He just has a thing for meat.”
“He’s cute, like I said,” Yuuto says, and Izumida runs through the handful of alters they have for the team and debates about pushing Yuuto in front of oncoming traffic as soon as he gets the chance. “Creepy, yeah, but cute. I think the creepy bit makes him kind of exciting.”
“Stop talking,” Izumida orders, but Yuuto only grins at him.
“Kishigami-kun?” Ashikiba asks, and Izumida glances back at him, wondering just how much of the conversation he was able to follow considering how zoned out be looks right now. Dark violet eyes dart across the space between the two teams and he cocks his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “He is kind of cute. I like his hair. It’s a pretty shade of blue.”
Kuroda heaves a sigh. “Fine, fine, he’s kind of cute. We can all admit to that, I guess.”
Izumida could take this opportunity to tease Kuroda mercilessly for only jumping on the bandwagon after Ashikiba has said something, but he keeps his snide comments to himself just this once— he has to look good as captain, after all— and glances back over to where Komari stands at Midousuji’s side, looking unbearably bored with the conversation going on with the rest of the Kyofushi members. For the record, Midousuji looks like he isn’t listening either; the two of them stand apart from the rest in a very obvious way.
“Komari-kun?” Manami’s voice startles all of them, and Izumida twists around to look at him, then whips out his phone to check the time. “Don’t bother, Izumida-san, I know I’m about half an hour late. Sorry about that. What are we all saying about Komari-kun?”
Yuuto, predictably, strengthens Izumida’s resolve to shove him in front of a bus. “Izumida has a thing for him, I guess. He was all zoned out when Kuroda was talking to him just now.”
“Oh… That isn’t surprising. Komari gets a lot of attention. Akira’s said once or twice that he’s had to shoo boys and girls away from him because Komari doesn’t like people.” Manami switches to more familiar speech within an instant, reminding Izumida that he is, in fact, dating Midousuji. As tenuous a term as “dating” can be for a situation like this, anyway.
Izumida frowns at that. “I see. I didn’t realize it was such a struggle for him.”
Manami pats him on the shoulder and flashes him a smile. “Don’t worry about it, senpai. If you’re interested in him, I can put in a good word for you. It took me a while but I finally got Komari to warm up to me. I think it’s only because Akira finally did, though.”
“Stop calling him Akira,” Doubashi says. “It’s… Weird. And how the hell are you dating someone like him anyway? I’m surprised he hasn’t eaten you yet or something.”
“Relax. Akira’s not nearly as scary as everyone makes him out to me. Senpai?” Manami raises his eyebrows and Izumida debates, glancing over at Komari once again, who fiddles with his headband with long and delicate fingers.
Finally, he breaks and nods. “That would be great, if you don’t mind, Manami.”
He is going to regret this. He can already sense that. But Manami winks at him before excusing himself to join the Kyofushi team, taking Midousuji by the hand and drawing him away from the rest of them. Doubashi is right; the two of them together make a strange combination, but at the end of the day, Manami seems happy with Midousuji, and Izumida would be lying if he said that Manami’s times have not improved since the relationship began.
He turns back to his team, not wanting to risk getting caught staring now that Komari is alone.
The list of people that Kishigami Komari likes is very short and to the point; he finds himself in the company of two of them now, the end of a pen caught between his teeth while he flips back and forth through his chemistry notes with his homework balanced precariously on his lap. It was supposed to be a group study session because Manami takes chemistry as well, though it had quickly devolved into Manami and Midousuji kissing between problems, and then skipping the problems entirely to make out on Midousuji’s bed.
Komari does not mind. He rather likes Manami because the Hakogaku member is unlike the rest of his team, closer to being someone like Midousuji and Komari, and he makes Midousuji happy, which Komari values highly. After all, Midousuji had been the first person who ever tried to understand him and so he values him above everyone else in his life. His very best friend.
He finds the information he needs and spends a few minutes using it to solve his current problem before he sets his pen down, flexing his fingers, listening to the satisfying cracks in his joints before he stretches his arms over his head. Almost done. Just two problems left.
Manami pulls away from Midousuji, his face flushed and his eyes glittering, panting softly, no doubt having had to come up for air. That seems to be what separates them the most, which amuses Komari to no end; they kiss until they physically no longer can. Manami searches out his gaze directly and Komari cocks his head at him, urging him to speak.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something all afternoon but I’ve only just now talked myself around to doing it,” he says, carding his fingers through Midousuji’s long black hair.
Midousuji sighs at him, stretched across his bed on his back, looking more of a mess than Komari has ever seen him look, but Manami has a way of ruffling everyone he comes into contact with only in the best ways. “Do you have to have this conversation now?”
“Sorry, Akira, I do.” Manami placates him by kissing him on the forehead and Komari reflects on the fact that no one, not even him, has gotten away with calling Midousuji by name.
The kiss does its job; Midousuji drapes an arm over his eyes, flaps his other hand in Manami’s general direction. “Do as you must, then, but don’t keep me waiting for long.”
Manami slides off of the bed and onto the floor where Komari sits, his textbooks in a neat stack by his side, his backpack on his other side, neatly flanking him and giving him access to everything he might need to reach. In contrast, Manami’s school supplies are scattered across the floor and Midousuji’s are in a pile beside his head, having been pushed off of the mattress to make more room for Manami when Manami decided to join him.
“What have you been meaning to tell me?” Komari asks.
“Izumida-san, the captain of Hakogaku, he’s interested in you.” Manami grins at him as he says this, as if the idea amuses him. “We caught him staring at you a week or so ago and I guess the others got him to admit he has a little crush on you.”
It takes Komari a moment of mentally combing through the Hakogaku team to settle on the one that Manami means; he pays less attention to the others than he should, but battle tactics are Midousuji’s specialty and not his. As soon as he realizes who Manami is talking about, though, he abandons his chemistry homework and plants his hands on the floor in front of him, leaning into Manami’s personal space, his fingers twitching so hard his forearms spasm.
“Your captain,” he says slowly, “is the one who is excellent meat from head to toe, yes?”
Manami’s smile widens into a toothy grin. “That’s the one! I knew you’d be excited to hear that. He thinks you’re cute, and he’s such a good guy, he’s the perfect captain, and—”
A hand snakes down from the bed and fists in Manami’s hair, not pulling, just trying to get his attention. “Komari doesn’t tend to care for other people, Manami.”
“I know that, Akira.” Manami reaches up to take Midousuji’s wrist in his hand, squeezing gently, and only then does Midousuji let his hair go and let Manami hold his dangling hand instead. “Izumida-san is a good guy, though. He’s not like any of the people who bother you, Komari. He knows about personal space and he’s not going to be weird in your direction.”
Most people only get to know Komari well enough to run into his fascination with muscle before they back away as quickly as possible, no longer interested in getting to know him. The thought is saddening; none of them ever want him to touch them after all.
“You say he finds me attractive? He’s interested?” Komari is interested, too, in getting his hands on that exceptional body so he can appreciate each and every single muscle.
Manami laughs, but it isn’t cruel and Komari does not flinch away from him as he has done so many others in the past. “I knew you’d be excited! I’m glad, because I know senpai is a good person and he won’t treat you badly. And yes, he thinks you’re cute like I said, and yeah, he’s interested in you. I asked him if he wanted me to let you know and everything.”
Komari sits back and presses his hands together, unable to disguise the smirk that tugs at his lips. “You can let him know that I’m interested in him, as well.”
Izumida is lucky, as it turns out, to have a friend like Manami.
On Friday evening after school, he heads for the local gym and is in the process of lifting weights, twenty-five pounds in each hand for an easy warm-up, when a familiar head of blue hair flits into his vision. He almost drops one of the weights on his foot but manages to recover at the last second, his jaw dropping a little at the sight of Komari walking up to him. He also looks cuter than everyone here, headband in place, dressed in a pair of loose pink shorts and a bright yellow tank top the color of sunshine.
“Hi,” Komari says, coming to a stop in front of him, slender arms folded across his chest. “Manami said you spent a few hours here after school on Fridays so I thought this was as good a place as any to come find you.”
Manami had— Manami had spoken to Komari. For a moment, Izumida’s brain fuzzes over and he almost drops one of the weights on his foot; he grips it tightly at the last second and swallows hard, doing an unintentional up-down of the boy standing in front of him. No one had thought much of Komari when he had been brought into the Kyofushi team, but he had quickly proven he was not someone to be taken lightly and Izumida ahd sat up and taken notice of him.
It is only natural to have developed such a crush on him, he supposes.
“Well, you found me. Did you want something?” It comes out awkward and Izumida winces a little, trying for a small smile and well aware he fails miserably.
Komari laughs, one delicate hand covering his mouth, not unlike someone else that Izumida can think of. “Manami told me something interesting about you and I was only trying to think of the appropriate time to come speak to you about it. I thought this might be fine.”
He had chosen a public place that Izumida no doubt knows better than he does to be their neutral ground; the risk for Izumida runs low while the risk for Komari runs much higher. Izumida isn’t sure whether he did this to be nice or he did this because he truly fears nothing and no one, and he also is not sure if he wants to find out which is correct. He just sets the weights back on their rack and leads Komari over to a quiet corner where they can talk.
The corner Izumida chooses has a large window that overlooks the parking lot and the city; he happens to be on the second floor of this gym. Komari leans against the glass, framing himself in the soft evening light, his blue hair at a contrast with the orange and pink hues in the sky.
“Manami talked to you about me,” Izumida says slowly, making sure he heard correctly.
Komari lifts his chin and a challenge shines in his eyes. “He said you were interested in me. That you thought I was attractive. I only came to confirm that for myself.”
Izumida almost laughs but bites down on his tongue before he can; Frank tells him to be wary because Komari is, first and foremost, a rival. “He told you the truth. You’re… Cute. I mean, also a little creepy, but that’s kinda cute too? That just came out sounding bad, let me start over.”
“You wouldn’t be the first person to tell me I’m a little creepy without meaning it in a mean way.” Komari sways dangerously closer, narrowing his eyes as he looks up into Izumida’s own. “Unless you do mean it that way. Plenty of people have, after all.”
“I don’t! I wouldn’t have said anything to Manami at all if I did.” Andy is calm, compassionate, reminds him to take a breath without letting Komari stepping into his personal space throw him entirely off. “It’s good, to me, that you’re yourself and you don’t let people talk down to you. I guess that just comes with being on a team with Midousuji, but—”
“Midousuji-san helped me accept who I am as a person, yes.” Komari’s eyes dart down and Izumida sees the moment when his fingers twitch and curl slightly.
He doesn’t have to guess what Komari is looking at, not considering who Komari is as a person, not when Izumida knows more than enough about him. “You like to touch muscle, right?”
Komari abruptly takes a step back, shoving his hands under his armpits, pinning them tightly to his sides. “So what if I do? Nothing wrong with appreciating good meat.”
“No! No, I wasn’t saying that there was. That’s not why I was asking.” Izumida stops himself and takes a deep breath; Frank and Andy sympathize. “Unless you want people to stare at you, this probably isn’t the place to do that. And y’know, I don’t think you want a bunch of strangers staring at you. So if you want, we can leave. The gym, I mean.”
“You want to let me touch you,” Komari says, slow and soft like he can’t quite believe it.
Izumida smiles at him, stopping himself from smirking even though he wants to. “I mean, it’s not often I meet someone who has an appreciation for muscle the way you do. It’s just touching, right? I don’t see what’s wrong with it. Just like, not where everyone can make fun of you.”
Komari surges forward then, his hands landing on top of Frank and Andy, and there’s a devious glitter in his eye that wasn’t there a moment ago. He leans up closer, until their faces are almost touching, and smiles so widely that it looks more like a predator baring its teeth.
“Then we should get out of here,” he murmurs.
He makes a small and surprised sound when Izumida puts an arm around his waist to lead him back toward the doors.
Midousuji has called him someone with no patience or self-control, someone who chases after what he wants with no forethought about the consequences. In more ways than one, this is why the two of them became friends and why Midousuji chose him for the team. He goes after what he wants and most of the time, it becomes impossible for him to hold himself back.
Komari should exercise self-control. He does, to a point. He introduces himself to Izumida’s parents as a friend from another cycling team and lets Izumida handle the heavy lifting of the introductions, holds himself carefully and properly so his outward appearance is perfect. He behaves himself all the way up the stairs to Izumida’s bedroom and patiently waits until the door is closed and locked, his hands pressed tightly in front of him.
Then Izumida pulls his tank top off and tosses it aside, the excellent muscles of his back revealed, and Komari springs forward like a predator chasing after wounded prey.
The second his hands touch skin, though, he can sense the muscle beneath and he whines, high-pitched in the back of his throat, his fingertips sinking into Izumida’s skin to get a better feel for the muscle beneath. Izumida tenses but doesn’t tell him to stop.
“This is a lot,” he breathes, already feeling light-headed as he kneads his way down Izumida’s back, stopping when he hits the lower section, his eyes widening further. “Especially here. You’ve put more work into your body than most people I know.”
“My body is pure muscle. I stripped everything else away to be the best,” Izumida tells him.
Komari is quiet, considering. “Midousuji-san has said similar things before,” he muses, his hands drifting from Izumida’s lower back to his sides, getting a better feel for his oblique muscles. “So much work and effort. So much raw power. I can feel it!”
“That’s Fabian,” Izumida tells him matter-of-factly.
“Fabian,” Komari echoes. His hands wander from Izumida’s ribs down to his hips before he wraps his arms around his waist, pressing himself up against that impressive back and closing his eyes. “Fabian is wonderful. I’m in awe.”
Most people would never have let him get this close, much less touch this much. When Izumida shifts in his arms, Komari prepares to be shoved off, called names, thrown out the door. All of that would be in character for the few men Komari tricked himself into thinking would be different. What he’s not expecting is his cheek to be pressed against Izumida’s pectoral muscles a moment later, one strong hand holding him in place.
“This is Andy,” Izumida tells him. “The other is Frank.”
Komari could laugh, if he had it in him. No one had ever overcome his expectations quite this much before. Inviting him into a private space, letting him touch, encouraging the physical contact so many people hate. Instead, Komari nearly swallows his tongue and keeps his head where it is, fingers tracing the sure and steady pounding of Izumida’s heart through the tips of his fingers. Such a thing feels too powerful and perfect to be true.
“Andy and Frank,” Komari says, and Izumida’s eyes widen down at him, fringed with girlishly long lashes. “They’re wonderful. I can imagine the work that went into achieving them.”
His hands wander down still, to Izumida’s abs (he had heard him chanting the word over and over again as he accelerated, had giggled into the palms of his hands until Midousuji snickered beside him) only to find them just as deserving of praise and attention as every other part of Izumida. Maybe more so, even, the hard curved ridges drawing Komari’s fingers along. By the time he finishes, his breathing has evened into something smooth and serene even as a soft, low moan pulls free from his throat.
Komari takes his hands back then, folds them neatly in front of him. “Thank you, senpai.”
“Don’t be like that,” Izumida chastises, and Komari blinks up at him innocently even as a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Enjoy that? You always seemed like you’d be the type to.”
“I did. I’d like to do it again, sometime.” Over and over, if he can, if that is allowed. “You should let me give you a massage the next time you desire one. I think you would find that my hands are much more talented than you would think they are.”
Izumida laughs, a hand coming up, and Komari tenses automatically before strong fingers slip beneath his chin, tilt it up so their eyes meet better. “I’d like that, I think. We’d heard around that you were the team masseuse before Midousuji put you on the official team.”
It seems unlikely that Manami would share such information, but Komari would not be surprised to find rumors have been spreading throughout the cycling world. “I still am. Midousuji-san recruited me because I can cycle, but he handled my training personally so that I never had to worry about damage coming to my hands. They are a valuable asset of Kyofushi, too.”
“Let me see.” Izumida takes his hands and Komari blinks in shock, his mouth falling open a little at the sensation. Few other people ever want him to touch them, let alone touch him in return. “You do have beautiful hands, don’t you? You must take good care of them.”
Komari struggles to breathe properly for a few moments before he wrenches his hands back, holding them against his chest, feeling less like a predator and more like prey. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out, and Izumida blinks at him, hands still held out, clearly not sure what to say or to do. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have to… I have to go.”
He pushes his way past Izumida and out the front door without stopping to look back, his hands twitching and trembling the entire way, his breathing tight and strained in his lungs.
Two weeks pass before Izumida finds himself getting dragged to Manami’s house for an impromptu cram session. Exams are coming up and Manami, hopelessly behind, needs help in a few areas Izumida is decent enough with. He expects no one else to show up at the house. He definitely does not expect Manami to come parading back up into his bedroom with Midousuji and Komari in tow, looking for all the world like a villain whose plan had finally come to fruition.
After Komari had quite literally run away, Izumida had wisely given up on the idea of pursuing him and figured it was simply not meant to be. The rest of the team had left the subject alone, but Manami had insisted and pestered him before finally giving up. Or not giving up, if the shocked expression on Komari’s face is anything to go by.
“We’re going to make snacks,” Manami says, grabbing Midousuji by the hand and quickly pulling him back through the doorway. “You two can keep each other company. We’ll be back.”
As soon as the door shuts, Izumida drags a hand down his face. “I apologize for my kouhai. He’s awful. I— I don’t want to bother you. You left so quickly, I just… Are you okay?”
Komari is quiet and still for so long that Izumida half-wonders if he might have turned into a tanuki statue before he gives himself a little shake and sits down on the edge of Manami’s bed, surprisingly close to Izumida. “I was overwhelmed. As I said, Midousuji-san… Assisted me in learning to become myself. I’m not used to any level of acceptance from other people.”
“Oh. I overwhelmed you. I’m so sorry.” Izumida feels like an idiot, but taking Komari’s hands in his own had seemed so natural at the time. “I never wanted you to feel… Anything bad.”
“I reacted dramatically. I shouldn’t have simply run off like that. It was very rude, and I apologize.” Komari tucks his hair back out of his face, careful fingers slipping it behind an ear. “You were perfect. I simply didn’t know how to handle that.”
Izumida exhales quietly, relieved he had not done anything wrong. It had been eating him up for weeks, the thought he might have badly hurt Komari somehow. “Well, I apologize still. I won’t be so handsy, if… If there’s a next time. If you want to give me one.”
“But I liked that! So many people are afraid of me, or they hate me. They think I’m weird, a freak, someone they don’t want to touch or be touched by. You… Seemed to enjoy both.” Komari turns to him as he speaks, then quiets, looking down at his lap. “I enjoyed both. A next time would be preferable, only— Only don’t be afraid to touch me! Please…”
The last word comes out in a whisper and it nearly breaks Izumida’s heart. He shifts toward, cupping Komari’s cheek in his hand, his other hand moving down to touch Komari’s neatly folded in his lap. “I don’t think I’d ever be afraid to touch you.”
They sit like that for a long moment before Komari launches himself forward, arms cinching tight around Izumida’s shoulders, almost clinging to him. Izumida lets him, rests his hands on Komari’s slender back and holds him close and tight, letting him revel in the contact he’s probably been deprived of for who knows how long. If it means he gets to rest his cheek against Komari’s soft cotton candy hair and enjoy holding the boy he’s had a crush on for ages in his arms, then so be it.
When Komari leans back, his eyes are glittering like they did when Izumida coaxed him into touching him. “You truly are too good to be true. I’ve decided it.”
“I’m real, though, I’m right in front of you. Flesh and blood, and uh… Meat.” Izumida grins at him and Komari giggles, planting his hands firmly on top of Frank and Andy. “So I haven’t totally blown my shot to date you, then, right? Because I was still kind of holding out hope I’d get to.”
Komari hums, and his fingers dig in just a little. It doesn’t hurt. “I suppose so. If you can see who I am and accept me without any intent to change me, then you’re perfectly suited to being my partner.”
Izumida laughs a little at his formal speech and throws his arms around Komari all over again, squeezing him tight. Their foreheads bump together and it almost hurts, and then Komari tilts his head and leans in and— Oh. Kissing is good. Kissing is very good, as it turns out. Komari presses a hand to the side of his face and sighs against his lips, and Izumida thinks he might have gotten supremely lucky this one time.
Manami announces his presence as soon as he pushes the door open, balancing two bowls in one hand. “Senpai, we’re back— And clearly interrupting private time, oops!”
“Manami, for the love of—!” Izumida reels Komari in against his chest while Komari smothers giggles against his shoulder, his hair tickling Izumida’s cheek. “You are the worst, most absolutely terrible kouhai that I have. Yuuto is going to be so disappointed to learn you’ve taken his spot.”
Manami pouts at him. “Aw, but I’m the one who told Komari you liked him!”
Midousuji makes an unimpressed sound and Izumida feels his heart crawl up into his throat in sheer terror. “Komari-kun?”
Komari turns around to look at him, flushed, hair slightly dishevelled. “Yes, Midousuji-san?”
“He makes you happy?” It feels weird to be talked about like he isn’t even here; Midousuji does not so much as spare him a glance. “And you want to be with him?”
“Yes!” Komari smiles, and Izumida’s heart threatens to give out at the sight. “He’s a good one, MIdousuji-san. You can trust me on this.”
Midousuji nods, then sits down on the floor and drags his backpack closer. “Very well. Manami, we have to study. If you’re going to pass even one of your exams, you need to put the extra work into it.”
Izumida breathes a sigh of relief and Komari slides out of his arms to gather up his bag, setting all of his books and supplies neatly in front of him on the mattress. The awkward air dissipates slowly; Manami manages to get Midousuji to smile that disarming, tongue-baring grin of his that puts everyone ill at ease and Izumida dares to take Komari’s hands in his, massaging the strain out of his wrist when writing leaves it sore.
If he pays more attention to Komari then he does his own homework, then so be it.
