The After-Practice Routine 2

As always, practice had ended.

“Good job today. Can you help with cleanup?”

Once the other students left, their usual time began. The coach sat back, adjusting his mawashi slightly, waiting without saying much. The student knelt before him in a quiet, practiced posture, just like they always did. Soft sounds echoed faintly in the club room.

“Man… you’ve really gotten better at this.”

The coach spread his legs slightly, eyes closed as if relaxing after a massage.

Day by day, the student was improving—not just in sumo but in everything the coach taught him. He was an eager learner, always absorbing lessons like a sponge. Even now, despite the unusual closeness of their relationship, the coach still thought of him as a cute and diligent student.

But that day, the coach thought to himself:

—How long am I planning to keep it like this?

Ever since the sumo club got busier and he broke up with his girlfriend, this was the only connection left in his daily routine.

At first, it had just been a one-sided indulgence—something he never even did with his ex. But recently, it started to feel incomplete.

“Hey.” “Hmm? What is it?”

The student looked up, cheeks flushed, eyes moist as always.

The coach spoke almost without thinking.

“…Let’s try something different today.” “Huh?” “It gets boring if we do the same thing every time, right?”

The coach lightly grabbed the student’s arm and helped him stand.

“Loosen your mawashi. Let me see.” “Huh?” “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

The student hesitated but obeyed, loosening his uniform slightly. His body, still damp with sweat from practice, was revealed—a strong, trained physique.

The coach had never really thought about it before, but now, quietly, he felt something stir inside.

“Face me properly. Let me take a look.”

The coach examined him carefully, just like checking a student’s form during training.

“You’ve really built yourself up.” “Come on… That’s not new.” “Why’re you getting shy? After all this time?”

Still sitting, the coach pulled the student close.

“Today, let’s use all of you.” “Wait… Sensei…” “It’s fine, right? We’re together.”

At those words, the student trembled slightly. Maybe this is really what it means to be lovers now. That thought brought both nervousness and happiness at the same time.

“…Okay.”

The student nodded softly. The coach lifted him onto his lap, guiding his movements slowly, like correcting posture in sumo practice. His hand traced along the student’s back.

“You probably don’t realize it, but this is a kind of training too.” “Huh…?” “Relax your body. I’ll teach you everything.”

The coach whispered instructions, helping the student adjust his breathing.

“Sumo’s the same, right? You can’t move well if you’re too tense.” “…Yeah.” “Good. Keep breathing with me.”

The coach held him close, just like teaching a throw or grip on the practice mat.

“I’m right here. I’ll guide you through all of it.”

Even as the student’s shoulders trembled, he didn’t pull away. The coach whispered softly, keeping his voice low.

“Don’t make too much noise. We wouldn’t want anyone else to hear.” “…Okay.”

This was their private time, something no one else could interfere with.

“Relax a little more. There you go.”

As the student’s body gradually adapted, the coach smiled.

“See? Feels different, huh?” “…I don’t know…” “Be honest. You’re cute, you know that?”

The coach held him close, his hand running gently along the student’s back.

“You like me, right? Then trust me.” “…Yeah.” “Good. Let’s keep learning together.”

From that day, their after-practice routine changed completely. It wasn’t just simple favors anymore—everything was part of their “training.” The student, resting his head against the coach’s chest, thought quietly:

Is this what being a couple means? But even if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter. After every practice, the coach always said:

“You’re really cute, you know.”

Club activities continued like always. Practice, cleanup, then their private routine.

At first, the coach thought he was just going along with the student’s requests to avoid hurting his feelings. He figured it would end when the student got bored.

But before long, the coach found himself thinking about it all the time—staying late, even coming in on weekends. He broke up with his girlfriend because of this, but strangely, he didn’t feel much regret.

“Hey.” “Yeah?”

After practice, holding the student on his lap, the coach muttered softly.

“You smile more these days.” “Huh?” “You used to be more on edge.” “That’s 'cause you’re nice to me now.”

The coach chuckled.

“Am I really that nice?” “Yeah.”

The student answered easily.

“You always say I’m cute when you hold me.”

Hearing that, something warm spread in the coach’s chest.

—I guess I really have started to like him.

At first, it was about avoiding conflict. Now, it was about not wanting to lose him— and that feeling had grown into something else.

“Sensei?” “…Yeah?” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.”

The coach ran his fingers through the student’s hair, realizing his touch had become softer.

That day, on the way home:

“Hey.” “Hmm?” “Wanna grab some food? I’ll treat you.” “Really?” “Yeah. Let’s go.”

From that day on, things started to change little by little.

It wasn’t just about what happened after practice anymore. They’d stop by the convenience store together, chat about random things, and text each other at night.

One day, the student whispered:

“Hey, Sensei.” “Hmm?” “Can I… really think of us as dating?”

The coach paused for a moment, then smiled and ruffled the student’s hair.

“…That’s what we are now, right?” “Really?” “Yeah. Really.”

The student’s face lit up, and the coach was glad he said it.

“So… I’m your boyfriend, right?” “Yeah, that’s right.”

The coach gave a small, embarrassed laugh, but deep down, he knew: This kid is my partner now. Their "after-practice routine" naturally became something more like a real relationship.

Still, when they held each other close at the end of the day, some things stayed the same.

“You’re really cute, you know.”

The student answered softly, resting against the coach’s chest:

“Yeah… I’m yours.”