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Yukimura/Yumiko RP Log 001

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Yukimura/Yumiko RP Log 001

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yukimura; tennis is serious business
[001] Yukimura, Yumiko - on the hospital rooftop. 5330 words total.


Yumiko tells the boys she is going to get herself some fresh air, because Tachibana Kippei is giving her that look that says he wants to have a private conversation with just her younger brother, again. If she makes the excuse of visiting the vending machine again no doubt one of them will ask her for to bring a drink or snack back with her, and she'll have to actually go and buy it like she did last time. Fresh air is a simple but useful excuse, and it isn't entirely a lie. Hospitals always smell oppressive.

She finds directions to the roof patio - outdoor space is so scarce in the city - and when she opens the door out onto it she discovers she isn't alone. A teenage boy is sat on a bench overlooking the scenery, and a small child in pyjamas is with him, but he ducks quickly out of sight behind the teenager's body as he hears the door open. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he probably shouldn't be up here, so young and apparently ill, and without a parent to supervise. Yumiko hides her smile behind her hand.

The teenager looks round and away again, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder to encourage him back out.

"Oh!" He pipes up when he peeks round and sees Yumiko. "You're not Nurse Maki!"

"I'm not," she agrees, taking it as an invitation to walk over. There is nowhere else to sit, after all.

"-But I should probably go, I just know she's looking for me!"

The boy dashes away to the door, turning back only at the last moment to wave and yell, "bye, nii-chan!" to the other boy. Yumiko sits down beside him and they share a bemused smile.

"Do you often encourage small children to break the rules?" Yumiko asks, smiling with wicked approval.

Yukimura watches the boy disappear through the door, smiling and waving his goodbye before he turns his full attention to the girl – woman? – who interrupted his conversation with the boy. He grins at her question, knowing he should be repentant about bring children up to the rooftop, but he can't help it. None of them want to be in the hospital and even being out on the roof is better than being stuck inside.

"Not often," Yukimura admits. "Only when it's beneficial."

And surely she would have to agree that being outside was beneficial; even when you were sick, the fresh air – at least, as fresh as you could get in the city – and sunlight were better than being cooped up inside. Especially in a hospital, with its clinical air and bare walls. "Besides, what the adults don't know won't hurt them. The kids enjoy it too much out here to risk doing something stupid, like coming up alone."

She didn't appear to be the type to go and snitch on him, especially when she was sitting down beside him and acting like a conspirator in the entire thing and that gave Yukimura some room to relax. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, studying her for a long moment, probably longer than necessary. In a world surrounded by nurses and doctors, other sick people, and the rough and tumble bunch that comprised his team, looking at a woman was pleasing on the eye.

"There's something to be said for the healing properties of sunshine and fresh air," Yumiko says, "I came out here to share in them. There's plenty to go around, right?" Not that he seems ready to go, or encourage her to leave him to his peace, but this way she can ensure they both stay. It's much more fun to have someone to talk to, and he is intriguing.

She keeps her hands loose on her lap and only turns her head a little to converse, but uses the opportunity to look at him properly for the first time. There's no obvious reason for him to be in hospital - no cast on an arm or leg, no crutches set down nearby. He hasn't the look of someone suffering an internal problem, because his skin has plenty of healthy colour, although there's a weariness around the eyes that speaks to trouble sleeping now and then. It would be rude to just ask outright what he is in the hospital for, and Yumiko may be bold, but she isn't rude. She's curious; she'll find another way to get her answers.

"I mean, it seems to be working on you," she continues, keeping the comment light enough that she isn't afraid to meet his eyes when she says it, although she does look away again casually after a moment to keep from seeming pushy.

He can take that as an opening or not, but she suspects not. There's no reason to tell a complete stranger his business after all. Boys can be touchy. Teenage boys are about as conversational as clams. Although already she has gotten both a smile, and a reply. She puts that down to her looks. Only time reveals to people that she is much more than looks.

"Fresh air is even better when shared," Yukimura insisted. It wasn't too often that he actually had someone to talk to; the nurses liked him but still thought of him as a child, not the mention the boundaries that come with being a patient and it showed in their interactions with him. His team rarely visited, but that was largely due to his own wishes.

Yukimura can tell when she is actually studying him; it comforts him to know that he isn't the only one observing the other. There is something about the woman that makes him wish he weren't in the hospital, or perhaps a little older, or something, especially with the way she is studying him. It's easy to tell she doesn't belong in the hospital; if her clothes didn't give it away – casual, but not sloppy, suitable for either office work or a family dinner – her very demeanor would.

"If only fresh air would cure everything," Yukimura said. Surprisingly, his words didn't come out as bitter as he thought they would – as bitter as he tended to think them – and sounded somewhat more wistful. "Then things like surgeries wouldn't have to take place. And no one would have to worry then."

Yumiko smiles at his reply and takes that as an invitation to not only stay, but to get more comfortable. She turns towards him a little where she sits. He's much warmer than she had expected, and she chides herself for having made assumptions. To have the trust of a child - a few children by the sound of it - should have tipped her off to the fact that he was a friendly soul. Yumiko responds well to warmth. With cool characters she simply can't help wanting to get under their skin, tease and annoy them. Warm people make for much more pleasant kinds of interaction.

She realises belatedly, after trying to figure out why he might be in hospital, that he could be in the midst of recovery, and that might be why there are no obvious indicators. To ask what he is recovering from would be an even less tactful question, should she be wrong, so she stuffs the thought down.

"Surgery?" She asks suddenly, flinching in surprise when he speaks. It breaks her right out of her reverie. He sounds almost bitter, but not quite. This has come out too personal - he's talking about himself. And it sounds like a future event, rather than one past, for him to have to attempt to brush it off as though it is nothing, his words quite soft and light. Yumiko feels herself fill with pity even though she has no idea of the details, but that too, she keeps hidden. He may be a little unusual, but she doubts somehow he will be in this. Few people wish to be pitied. Instead she looks at him with wide eyes that offer the chance to elaborate, should he wish to.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Yukimura cursed himself. The surgery wasn't something he wanted to think about, at least not consciously. It wasn't something he could ever forget, really, not with the constant reminder of being in the hospital, but to bring it up just made it impossible to push aside for the moment. At least the woman didn't express any pity or offer an apology for something she couldn't control. It warmed Yukimura up a little; company was often better, especially when it was in the form of a good looking woman who wasn't silly.

So many of them were.

"An experimental procedure the doctors wish to try for a muscular disease I have," Yukimura explained, shrugging. He still wasn't entirely clear on all of the issues associated with the disease; he only knew that he had been offered the chance to fix it now and be able to play tennis. "They told me it was risky but better than going through years of physical therapy.

"But you aren't up here to discuss diseases and surgery," Yukimura guessed. "No one escapes to the rooftop to talk about those things. It's either to get away from the smell or for something more devious." He studied her, raising an eyebrow and smiling at her. "Something tells me you're not up here for devious purposes."

The way he says it, 'muscular disease', tells Yumiko very little. She has an answer, and yet she still does not. She scrambles to try and imagine what it might mean. Pain in the muscles, severe stiffness or paralysis? That he is up on the rooftop unaided makes a lie of each of them, except perhaps chronic pain. It seems unlikely that surgery or physical therapy would be a solution to that, however. She knows she probably shouldn't care this much but she has a habit of connecting with people too easily. To those she deems worthy of her time, at least.

"I'm sorry," she begins, and hopes he doesn't think she is sorry for him, "but I'm afraid I can be quite deviant. My younger brother is visiting a friend and I made very thin excuses to get away from them. You know, I don't mind talking about anything you like. Sometimes things are easier to get out to a stranger."

She's pushing a little harder than she usually might, and it might cause him to back off, but Yumiko hopes the worst she will get is a direct subject change that leaves no room for misunderstanding. She's always been a willing ear to friends and strangers alike, and people have suggested in the past that she become a therapist. It's far too formal a set-up for her.

She reaches out to place her hand on top of his as she speaks, a simple gesture that she senses - hopes - won't alarm him too much. Creating physical contact encourages more intimacy, so long as the amount is carefully discerned. This seems just enough, and not too much. She still doesn't even know his name.

It isn't too hard to read her; Yukimura might have spent too much time on the tennis courts and might not understand women, but he understands people. Conversations have always been like a game of tennis to him, the participants tossing words back and forth. Right now, the ball is in his court and he can choose to finish it off or keep the rounds going a little longer.

While Yukimura doubts that she would leave if he changed the subject, it's a risk he isn't sure if he wants to take at that moment. For a second, he wishes Yanagi were there to tell him the odds. But Yanagi isn't and even that little voice in the background of his head that sounds suspiciously like Yanagi is silent at the moment.

Yukimura wavers for a brief moment, until he feels her hand on his. Her fingers are smooth, not callused and rough like most tennis players or anything of the sort, and he actually likes the feel of it. Without realizing his actions, he turns his hand over, cupping hers and running his thumb along the skin between her thumb and forefinger. And just like that, the decision is made. He sends the ball back into her court, something easily returnable – at least, he's hoping it's returnable.

"It is easier to talk to strangers sometimes," he agrees. "People you know are often too close to provide exactly what you need." He pauses for a second, looking down at their hands and abruptly stops running his finger along her hand, flushing just a little when he realized what he had been doing. "They diagnosed me with something, Gaillain-Barre syndrome I believe they called it, and told me I'd never be able to do anything active again. One of the doctors talked about a possible cure for it, a surgery. I figured the risk would be worth it. I couldn't imagine not… playing tennis again." He stopped, thinking again, and looked up at her with a smile. "But for all that I want it; the idea of surgery is frightening. There is always that lingering fear that something could happen."

When he accepts her touch, responding to it with more affection than she'd been offering, Yumiko feels an odd shiver run through her. That he has touched her in turn proves he isn't uncomfortable with doing so, but to respond with more enthusiasm makes her wonder if he is starved for affection in his life. They may not know one another, may not have much time to spend, but she makes the decision instantly. If a simple touch can mean such a great deal to him, it will not hurt her to offer him more. Even the thought of it makes her feel good.

Also, he is scared. He covers it with empty words he refuses to let hurt him, and beautiful smiles that are tinged with wistfulness. He is scared for his future, in a way someone his age has no right to be, and it makes Yumiko angry that he should have to suffer. He's only a teenager. She has two brothers who are tennis-mad, she is used to the way it overpowers the brain, and somehow to be able to connect him with them means she feels that much closer to him, irrationally. She is not about to admit that.

"This syndrome..." She says, knowing if he has skipped the details it's because he doesn't want to talk about it too deeply. Who could blame him? "It causes your muscles to... weaken? But you look so well!" It doesn't seem fair.

She crosses one leg over the other and turns the top half of her body so that she is facing him properly, resting her arm on the back of the bench. It brings them into closer proximity, coincidentally. The feel of his hand is curious; it is callused from too many hours gripping a tennis racquet, and yet his touch is gentle, persistent.

"...And the surgery is risky?" She asks, knowing she doesn't want to hear the answer. If it were to fail, what would happen then?

It's when she shifts to turn toward him, lessening the distance between their bodies, that Yukimura feels the closeness between them. It also makes him very well aware of the fact that she is a woman, an older and very attractive one at that. He might be hospitalized and worried about other things, but he is still a teenage boy. Yukimura can only hope that he won't embarrass himself in some way.

Not only that, but she is offering some sort of comfort; not necessarily cuddling or handholding, but a chance to talk about his fears. He's got a surgery he's facing and his friends and teammates aren't really the sort to offer comfort, reassurance about life and living and everything else. Sanada will assure him that Rikkai will succeed on the court and Yanagi will quote statistics at him, but when it comes down to it, teenage boys suck at sympathy and understanding.

"It just cause muscle weakness and paralysis over time. It hasn't affected me too badly yet; not permanently yet. I've collapsed a few times, found it impossible to walk more than a couple of steps, can't pick up things from time to time." Yukimura swallows and shudders and tightens his hand around hers, not too tight but enough to remind himself that someone was there. "It'll just keep getting worse, which is why I opted for the surgery.

"I don't think the surgery is too risky, but it's still a surgery. I'm still young, there are lots of things I haven't done yet and still want to do. Things not even related to tennis!"

Yumiko isn't the kind of woman to flaunt what she has completely openly, preferring to leave a little mystery that stimulates the mind with excitement, but when she wears a strappy top beneath her little cardigans her cleavage tends to just be there, whether she would intend it or not. Having her arm across her lap and in his means her breasts are pushed together even more than usual. She's completely covered up, but it's patently obvious she isn't a maternal figure in this comfort-scenario.

The way his hand tightens around hers as he speaks volumes for how frightened, and frustrated, he is. Paralysis, that's serious. Him, at his age, and the possible future of being bound to a wheelchair, or a bed. She understands why he is determined to go through with the surgery no matter how much it scares him if that is the other option. The conversation needs to be lightened in tone; she can help him forget for a little while what a heavy burden he is faced with.

She squeezes his hand in response, a gesture of solidarity - a burden shared, and then lets go completely. She places a hand on his knee.

"It comes and goes?" She asks, but it isn't exactly a question. "But right now you have feeling. You squeezed my hand." She tightens her fingers around his knee. "You feel this, right?"

She half-smiles, knowing the conversation is still a serious one, and not wanting to make light of it, but needing to see him smile again. She's flirting and she doesn't care to reason why. Yumiko is the kind to act on instinct and worry about the consequences later.

Her fingers on his knee send an unexpected shiver down Yukimura's spine. He's used to touching – at least among his friends, until recently. And even the few girls who were daring enough to try to approach him and confess, who tried to hold his hands or touch his shoulder or something, are commonplace enough for Yukimura to deal with. Yet – this wasn't just one of his friends, one of the girls at school who were desperately trying to get his attention.

He realized what she was doing; it was easy to see. The conversation was getting somewhat serious and any attempts to lighten it were welcome, even for Yukimura. Perhaps especially for him. He grinned at her again, happier this time, because she was right: he could feel her touch on his knee.

It was somewhat uncomfortable, though, in ways Yukimura didn't want to admit; and he hoped he wouldn't shame himself by reacting like any normal teenage boy probably would. At the same time, he didn't want her to move her hand.

"I'm quite lucky today," he told her. "I'd be quite sad if I couldn't feel you touching me. It's not every day something like this happens."

"Is it not?" Yumiko replies, letting her grip loosen so that she can slide her hand up his leg a little, a few inches. It can still be construed as innocent, technically. And he could be speaking about the fact that he doesn't meet people on the rooftop, or talk to strangers about his personal life, but she knows he isn't. She suspects he is as good at playing the game as she is, or will be, eventually, one day. With practice. He certainly hasn't had as much practice as her, if any. But to be able to keep cool and collected under Yumiko's attention, no matter how slight, is a rare talent.

"I would have thought you'd have girls all over you," she says, and hopes that doesn't sound like somebody's parent kidding around - 'my son has to beat them off with a stick!'. But then, her voice is much lower and more suggestive than any parent would ever sound. It's very difficult to misinterpret Yumiko when she wants her motives understood. She draws circles on his leg, over the fabric of his pyjama pants. Even those are plain and simple, and manage to look normal on him, as though he were wearing everyday clothes. It was those that had easily tipped her off to the fact that he was a patient right away.

It's not even that she wants him to make a move in response - she doesn't. She simply wants to make sure he knows where this is going, he seems to know where this is going - he hasn't proven himself at all dense - and that he's okay with it. She won't stop once she has started.

Yukimura can be calm under the most tense, strained atmospheres but even he has to buckle at some point and for him, the moment comes when she starts to draw circles on his leg. Although the gentle slid of her hand up his leg was something unexpected – and secretly hoped for – he could handle it. The circles though, her fingers tracing a continuous pattern over his legs, was enough to send all rational thought fleeing and make his hormones kick into overdrive.

It was almost odd; Yukimura could have sworn that he wouldn't ever be the type to give into his hormones, let them think for him; but he couldn't resist. He slid further down on the bench, slouching just a little and shifting closer to her. He's starting to grow hard beneath his pyjama pants, but it doesn't bother him too badly. She has to know her effect on guys in general; she's sharp and smart. And Yukimura might be able to restrain himself to a certain extent, but he's still young.

"I do have a few, but none of them…." Yukimura trails off, studying her and trying to think of how to put the phrase 'none of them are anything like you' into a less creepy sentence. He settled for the generic, "are very interesting." It was true; the girls he went to school with generally weren't very interesting. They certainly didn't compare to the woman currently sitting next to him.

And if the way his voice trails off and completely changes tone as he says 'none of them... are very interesting' isn't an admission of wanting and needing Yumiko's help then she honestly doesn't know what is. No teenage boy should be of the mindset that the girls around him simply aren't interesting. She remembers being at school, remembers how hot-blooded the boys were - running on hormones, desperate for attention and affection. He isn't desperate, or if he is he certainly hides it well, but Yumiko has chosen, and her choices are her own, for her own reasons.

She moves her hand all the way up his leg until it is brushing the crease of his thigh where he sits.

"I think I owe it to girls everywhere to change your opinion," she says as her fingers find both his waistbands and slip beneath to feel his cock getting hard under her touch. She meets his eyes, forcing him to look back at her as she wraps her hand around him. He's young, and even if he does jerk-off regularly it isn't the same as someone else doing it for you. She goes slowly, but doesn't give him the opportunity to think she is anything less than an expert. She simply doesn't want it too end too quickly.

Jerking off wasn't something Yukimura was unfamiliar with, considering his age; every morning was a rush to the bathroom to take care of business before anyone else got in there. Nor was he entirely unfamiliar with having someone else taking care of the problem, either. It wasn't something they ever talked about again, but Sanada had jerked him off once, and Yukimura returned the favor, one night when they had been the last two people left in the locker room and wanting to experiment. Sanada hadn't been very good at it, his fingers just as callused and rough as Yukimura's, his pace rushed and his rhythm jerky.

But this – this was different. This was with someone who didn't have hands that had been gripping a tennis racket for a better part of her life and who knew what she was doing. Her hands were soft on him, her pace slow, but Yukimura could tell that she had done this before. It was enough to tease him, torment him and somehow, it felt better than any quick hand-job in a locker room or his own hasty fumbling in the morning. He stares at her, unable to even think about anything else, aware only of her and her hand on his cock.

In the back of his mind, he knows he should be replying to whatever it was she said, but he couldn't respond if he wanted - he can't formulated a sentence to save his life. His hand settles on her leg, curling into the fabric of her skirt.

He keeps her gaze, that's the first thing she can't help but notice, as ridiculous as it seems. His mind is currently elsewhere - she knows where it's concentrating its efforts, but he isn't afraid to let her see the reactions he is having to her touch, reflected clearly in his eyes. A little disbelief? Awe? Yumiko is used to that kind of response. Because she sees deeper than looks she has found herself dating men before who clearly can't believe their luck, considering her way out of their league when in fact their sharp minds and quick wit have had her smitten, even before she could stop to think whether she liked a particular hairstyle or full lips.

More importantly there's compatibility in bed. Yumiko likes that he doesn't scramble or fumble to touch her, because it's quite possible in the state that he's in he'd only make a fool of himself. Either he knows that, or it hasn't even occured to him.

Teaching can be very rewarding.

She touches him all over, making sure her hand reaches every part of him before starting to jerk him off more vigourously. Firm and deliberate strokes that she speeds up little by little, until she knows he is going to come.

She removes her hand and reaches into her bag, sat beside her, for a couple of tissues.

"Here," she says, offering them out with a dirty smirk. "I won't watch." Having to clean oneself up isn't something that requires an audience. She turns away again to zip the bag back up and straighten herself out. It's possibly going to occur to Syuusuke to wonder where she is soon.

He wants to reach out and touch her, wants to offer her some sort of pleasure like the kind he is getting, but he knows he can't compare to her, especially not when his mind is somewhere else entirely. Inexperience might be nice sometimes, but not when someone is helplessly clumsy. And if there is one thing that Yukimura hates, it's being clumsy, not performing to his best.

So he rests his hands on her lap, watches her face as she watches him, and touches him, and wonders what it would be like to be on an even level with her, to know how to touch someone's body well enough to drive them to distraction. But even those thoughts fade away when she starts jerking him off more vigorously, when he feels his balls tighten and the pressure get to be too much. He can't even keep his eyes open when he does come, dropping his head back and moaning low in his throat.

It takes a moment for him to gather his senses again, sound and smell and sight all rushing back to him as his mind clears. Part of him can't believe what he just did and the other part – the bigger part – thinks that it was one of the best things that have happened to him.

"Thanks," he says, plucking the tissue out of her hand and using them to clean up, straighten out his clothes and return his appearance – he hoped – back to somewhat presentable. "And uh, thank you for... that. Now, if anything happens on the surgery table I'll at least have some experience."

She knows he wants to reciprocate, and she doesn't want him to think that she's owed anything somehow. She knew what she was doing when she started this. She turns back to him, smiles silent reassurance. She's perfectly happy with the way things have gone. The look on his face when he came will linger in her memory for a while, entertaining her on lonely nights. It's wonderful to make somebody else feel so good, now he is aware of it too. One day he'll know it from practice.

"You'll get plenty of experience," she replies, touching her hand to his knee one last time, in a much more innocent and reassuring way this time. "It's on the cards, I can sense it. You have to trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

She winks. People don't always take her gift seriously, and so she couches it in light-hearted talk and allows them to believe or not as they wish. It isn't like she can see anything useful, anyway. Only gut feelings and good instincts harrass her at the best of times, lingering in her mind.

She stands up, brushing down the front of her skirt. The only problem with it is a slight amount of creasing on one side from fingers being tangled in it, but it's not a big deal. She picks up her bag, slings it over one shoulder, and offers out her hand.

"I'm Yumiko," she says, and laughs. Doing everything completely backwards, this is her goodbye.

Yukimura knows she's getting ready to leave and understands why it has to be. He just wishes it didn't have to end so quickly. But he's had something to enjoy, and that memory will help him through the next few days, weeks.

"I'm Seiichi," he tells her and stands up to take her hand, shaking it. Despite the fact that he still has to face his surgery and everything that accompanies it – and until then, has to deal with the reasons why he's there in the first place – Yukimura feels somewhat lighter, happier. His parting smile isn't painted on, but genuine.

He watches Yumiko depart, wandering over to lean against the fence when the door closes behind her. Part of him still can't believe that he was just jerked off by an older woman. It's hard to wrap his mind around it, especially now that she's gone. It did give him a taste of something, though – of pleasure, of the enjoyment of having someone else touch him. He wanted to touch, although he knew he couldn't with his mind so distracted.

If he makes it out of his surgery alive, Yukimura decides, and recovers from everything, he's going to learn as much as he.

Might as well enjoy life while he can.

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