The Tenipuri Spring Fluff Exchange

spring_fluff Reveals!

takewing — Wed, 09 May 2007 04:07:43 GMT

Gifts for Individuals:

Gift Ideas (Atobe/Tezuka), for link621, by athyestean

Better Than The Last (Tezuka/Ryoma), for todaythesamesky, by takewing

Divide and Multiply (Niou/Yagyuu, Yukimura/Sanada, hints at Yanagi/Kirihara), for vacivity, by hitokiri

Fuji does not flirt; he waits (Tezuka/Fuji), for babycellist, by lihsa

Girls (Shishido/An), for happiestwhen, by maxine_chan

Reaching the Peak (And Back Again) (Shishido/Ohtori), for tikaima, by bouncy

A Little Less Conversation (Yanagi/Yukimura), for illuminations, by alice_and_lain

Food for Thought (Tezuka/Ryoma), for kai882, by hikaridonya

Love is Stronger (Inui/Yanagi), for ee970, by sexeh_chan

Problematic (Ohtori/Shishido), for nickelodeon, by mousapelli

For All The Stars (Yanagi/Yukimura), for asunder, by vacivity

How To Be Destined Rivals (Fuji/Mizuki), for dynastic, by jazzyjello

Astronomy 101 (Tezuka/Ryoma), for athyestean, by empath_eia

A ~~Lame~~ Tale of Two Tennis Players (Shishido/Ohtori), for lion, by nickelodeon

Fuji's Guide to Falling (implied Fuji/Mizuki/Yuuta), for maxine_chan, by numisma

Something to Celebrate (Inui/Kaidoh), for turtly_one, by senshixdoukeshi

A Question (Atobe/Jiroh, Oshitari/Mukahi), for sexeh_chan, by turtly_one

Untitled (Shishido/Ohtori), for a_drawer_4ever, by kaze_zutsumi

Inheriting an Empire (Atobe+Hiyoshi), for nakatani_yuushi, by hitokiri

Teaching Methods (Tezuka/Ryoma), for kaorismash, by umeko_pyon

Inui Sadaharu, π (Tezuka/Inui), for prillalar, by lion

The Curious Incident of the Cat and the Non-Fat White Mocha (Tezuka/Ryoma), for hikaridonya, by kessie

What a Picture is Worth (Fuji/Inui), for kishmet, by goldie

6-Love (Arai/Kachirou), for mousapelli, by tehlils

What did Kamio listen to...? (Momo/Kamio), for facetiously, by good_chaser

It's a Date! (Eiji/Oishi), for grassbasket, by bobbissimo

[]-[] + ^_^ = <3 (Fuji/Inui), for goldie, by knw

So a Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home (Bane/Davide), for genkischuldich, by cinamaroll

Love or None (Sanada/Atobe, Oshitari/Atobe), for hitokiri, by chouta_angel

Moment (Jackal/Bunta), for solanum_d, by chiasmus

Risk Assessment (Yukimura/Sanada), for bouncy, by jain

Pique (Kenya/Zaizen), for muzivitch, by unrequitedangst

Buchou... it´s too hard for you to hold my hand? (Tezuka/Ryoma), for 0rien, by konkon_pinku

It's a Date (Fuji/Kawamura), for waxrose, by illuminations

Frequency (Inui/Yanagi), for alice_and_lain, by marksykins

Share the warmth (Ohtori/Shishido), for meggu_chan, by cu_da_rukia

Follow Me (Sanada/Atobe), for puccho, by tikaima

Variable (Yuuta/Mizuki), for takewing, by hitokiri

Metamorphosis (Shishido/Ohtori), for konkon_pinku, by kai882

Counting Sheep Didn't Help… (Sengoku/Kirihara), for melpants, by puccho

Baby, it's fact (Kirihara/An), for numisma, by melpants

Imperfect Match (Atobe/Tezuka), for bobbissimo, by prillalar

Untitled Art (Niou/Kirihara), for mikage, by crowitched

Reach for the Stars (Fuji/Yuuta), for jazzyjello, by kaorismash

Thoughtful Gifts (Kirihara/Ryoma), for plotbunnytohma, by worblehat

Quick to Bait (Niou/Yagyuu), for cinamaroll, by asunder

City Lights (Atobe/Tezuka), for kaze_zutsumi, by meggu_chan

The Adventures of Momo-Chan the Awesome and Kamio the Idiot (Momo/Kamio friendship, Inui/Kaidoh), for umeko_pyon, by jumoon

Trick for the Trickster (Niou/Yagyuu), for unrequitedangst, by babycellist

Fixation (Fuji/Yuuta), for chiasmus, by todaythesamesky

Don Juan Triumphant (Yumiko/Mizuki), for tehlils, by nakatani_yuushi

Equal Measure (Yanagi/Kirihara), for jumoon, by muzivitch

Say It If You Mean It (Ibu/Kamio), for spurious, by mikage

Of Cats and Quiet and Other Things (Tezuka/Kaidoh), for jain, by plotbunnytohma

Trying Not to Think (Fuji/Kikumaru), for empath_eia, by shinichirouwaya

Transposition (Oishi/Eiji), for sarahofcroydon, by songsheet

The Snake, the Slug, the Frog, and the Racquet (Momoshiro/Kaidoh), for lihsa, by prillalar

Sharing Data (Inui/Yanagi), for senshixdoukeshi, by demonoflight

Psychological Advantage (Momoshiro/Kaidoh), for playthefool, by mousapelli

Three Untitled Fanarts (2 Kabaji/Atobe, 1 Shishido/Ohtori), for crowitched, by vampy18

Oh, Karupin (Inui/Kaidoh), for marksykins, by playthefool

Waiting Room (Tachibana/Fuji), for trinityhelix, by solanum_d

The Proposition (Oshitari/Atobe), for eames, by maxine_chan

Window Seat (Oishi/Shishido), for songsheet, by takewing

The Heart of the West Wind (Tezuka/Atobe), for good_chaser, by eames

Damage Control (Momoshiro/Kaidoh), for shinichirouwaya, by marksykins

Method Acting (Tezuka/Atobe), for kessie, by kishmet

Leaps of Logic (Fuji/Saeki), for worblehat, by kessie

Day by Day (Atobe/Jiroh, Oshitari/Gakuto), for iverin, by solanum_d

Untitled Art (Shishido/Ohtori), for cu_da_rukia, by a_drawer_4ever

The One Where Shishido Gets Punched in the Face (Shishido/Ohtori), for chouta_angel, by bouncy

Breadcrumbs (Yanagisawa/Atsushi), for vampy18, by umeko_pyon

Online Dating For Data Boys (Inui/Yanagi, Oishi/Eiji), for demonoflight, by dynastic

Gifts For the Community:

Untitled Art (Fuji/Eiji), by sarahofcroydon

Sweet the Sting (Momoshiro/Kaidoh), by happiestwhen

Blueshift (Inui/Eiji), by waxrose

Nothing to Lose (Ohtori/An, Ohtori/Shishido), by grassbasket

five naps, or, how aoi kentarou is unconductive to sleep (Echizen/Aoi), by ee970

Spring Cold (Gakuto/Oshitari), by facetiously

Fujyouri (Atobe/Ryoma), by iverin

Things You Can Learn From J-Pop Idols (Tomo/Sakuno), by spurious

Scrapbook (Yamato/Tezuka), by link621

Perfect Pair (Yuuta/Mizuki, Shishido/Ohtori), by 0rien

Sakura (Inui/Kaidoh), by genkischuldich

Special Thanks:

We'd like to offer a huge thanks to everyone who participated in spring_fluff this year!

We would like to thank reposoir, as well, for allowing us to steal a large portion or her rules used for santa_smex.

A huge shout-out goes to umeko_pyon for allowing us to host the longer fics on her webspace, and for formatting said long fics with the proper html, because your mods fail at html!

Special thanks to the authors of the "To the Community" gifts for being so cooperative and understanding.

And even more thanks for the authors and artist who contributed pinch-hits and special gifts this year: knw (who wasn't even officially in the exchange!), hitokiri, mousapelli, prillalar, maxine_chan, jain, bouncy, solanum_d, marksykins, takewing, kessie, worblehat and umeko_pyon!

Finally, we'd like to thank everyone who read and commented to the fics and fanart this challenge has produced. There was a lot of it posted this past month, so thank you all for finding time to leave a little love for the authors and artists who put so much work into their gifts! ♥

Final Notes:

spring_fluff produced 89 fics, featuring varied characters, pairings, teams, and ratings. Can we just say, "Wow"? The exchange was a pleasure to run, and the quality of the gifts was phenomenal.

We hope you've all enjoyed your spring_fluff experience as much as we have, enough to come back for round two in the spring of 2008!

Happy… summer, everyone. ;)

~Missa (takewing) and Stephanie (nickelodeon)

EDIT: Please feel free to tell me if a link isn't working, or if I've spelled your username wrong... anything. Going through 89 posts... I'm bound to have made a mistake somewhere. -_-

Happy Belated Spring demonoflight!

nickelodeon — Sun, 06 May 2007 19:46:51 GMT

Title: Online Dating For Data Boys
Recipient's name: demonoflight
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Data Pair with a hint of Golden Pair.
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. Although, someday I'll inherit it from Konomi.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: demonoflight, I hope you like this. This was a pinch-hit, but it was fun to write. Thanks to M for looking it over. Enjoy!

Experiment #4599
Test the Probability in Finding a Date Through an Online Dating Service:
- the supposed 70% if using e-harmony.com
- the supposed 99% if using perfectmatch.com
- the supposed 97% if using great-expectations.com

Inui’s notebook lay open on top of his keyboard, his computer screen lit up with various Word documents of statistics and calculations. Another couple of windows had several online dating websites pulled up. A stack of books on Inui’s desk had titles like The Rules for Online Dating: Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right in Cyberspace, Sex, Lies and Online Dating, and from the classic instructional manual series, Online Dating for Dummies.

It was obvious that this was all for Inui’s latest experiment: Testing the Probability in Finding a Date Through an Online Dating Service.

For the longest time, Inui had pondered and contemplated doing an experiment like this. Online dating had, incidentally, been one of the things Inui had never quite understood. Many couples, nowadays, found their life partners through simply chatting together on the Internet, going on a few dates and somehow forming a real, compatible relationship after doing so. To Inui, it didn’t seem logical that these mere websites had managed to find proper and attuned matches for people looking for the right man or woman.

This was why Inui Sadaharu had taken it upon himself to test how accurate these online dating services truly were. He had bought several books to instruct him on using online dating sites, which he’d already started to make notes on during his history class earlier. It was slightly dull work without a computer in front of him to guide how he should be using the sites.

Glancing up at his screen, he began to fill out the information on the three dating sites he was going to use to test his hypothesis. The sites asked for basic information like age, gender, height, weight, likes, dislikes, religion and the like. Inui had decided early on that he would create a fake (but similar to himself) profile that would hopefully attract people.

“Hmm,” Inui sighed softly as he peered down at his notes. This experiment was going to be tougher than he’d anticipated.

* * & * *

In another household, somewhere in Kanagawa, Yanagi Renji sat on his bed with his laptop in front of him. He had pulled up several websites and was currently perusing them diligently.

I do things according to plan, Yanagi read in his head. He checked yes. I love to help others. Yanagi checked yes, again. I often carry the conversation to a higher level. Nodding slightly, he checked yes once and again. I often leave a mess in my room. Yanagi paused, not even needing to crack an eye open to glance at the fraternity-house-like disaster that was his bedroom. It’d been awhile since his mother had forced him to clean his room, which for the longest time had been neat and tidy. Yet, Yanagi had taken to leaving his clothes on the floor, piling up big stacks of school papers and mountains of soda cans.

The only seemingly clean thing in his room was his empty trashcan.

Sitting up straighter, Yanagi looked down at his computer screen. The survey he’d been filling out was for an online dating site, specifically for e-harmony.com. Although, he’d previously filled out four other surveys for similar sites with almost the same type of questions. It was tedious work, but Yanagi was determined, unbeknownst to his former doubles partner and rival, that he would figure out how precise the match ups for online dating services truly were.

Sighing a little, Yanagi continued clicking answers to the survey he’d taken several times before - to the point where he would know it almost by heart.

* * & * *

It was several days later when Inui was changing in the locker room with Oishi and Kikumaru when he realized he had not asked his teammates what their thoughts were on online dating.

“Oishi, what are your thoughts on participating in an online dating services?” Inui asked the fang haired boy randomly, while he stuffed his school uniform into his cubby hole.

Oishi paused for a moment, looking at Inui curiously before answering, “Ah, well… it works for some people, doesn’t it? I’ve never tried it so I wouldn’t know--”

“--Online dating is for people who stink at trying to find dates the real way!” Kikumaru interjected, bouncing over to Inui and Oishi to wrap an arm around Oishi’s shoulder.

Inui simply stared at Kikumaru, immediately noting what he had just said so he could write it down later.

“Eiji… I don’t think that’s true. Some people just--”

“--Suck at dating!”

“Eiji…”

“What?”

“Online dating is for people who want proper matches for themselves--”

“Oh, Oishi… you know it’s just for people can’t get dates!” Eiji let go of Oishi’s shoulder and made a pseudo-angry face at his doubles partner.

“Come on, Eiji. Online dating services are for people who--”

“--Can’t get dates!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes! A thousand million times yes, it is why people choose to online date,” Eiji was making his angry face at Oishi and throwing up his arms to make the whole argument just a little more ridiculous.

“Okay, fine, that’s the reason, but only to make you stop going on about it,” Oishi said, sighing a little before giving his doubles partner a little smile.

“Oishi…” Eiji smiled back at him and grabbed his arm to tug him outside to practice their formations.

Inui, who had watched this the whole time, had pulled out his notebook and started to scribble down everything that they had said.

“Hmm… ii data,” he mumbled slightly, biting on the tip of his pen. Briefly, he wondered whether he should have asked Fuji or Taka-san for their opinions instead…

* * & * *

A few nights later, Yanagi had been sitting at his desk; his room more horribly a mess than a war zone. His laptop had several dating sites pulled up and Yanagi was staring at his empty matches page.

“Hmm,” he hummed, slightly puzzled that it’d been several days since he’d made a profiles on e-harmony.com, perfect match.com, great-expectations.com and he’d received no matches.

He sighed, simply sitting and staring at his rather bare, but seemingly attractive profile. Vaguely, Yanagi remembered his teammate’s opinions on the use and accuracy of online dating services.

“Online dating services are--Taranduro!” Sanada had told him, as he shouted at several freshmen who were running laps.

“Yanagi… Are you feeling lonely…?” Was Niou’s response to the question. Yagyuu had been standing next to him at the time and had shot Niou a look that made Niou shut up immediately.

Kirihara had eloquently told him, “Dating services are for losers who can’t get real dates.”

Yanagi found afterwards that he probably couldn’t rely on his team for proper opinions on even the simplest issues. He sighed again, glancing to the other side of his room where a large box of Pocky was sitting. Getting up from his chair, Yanagi picked up the box and ripped it open.

He walked back over to his desk and sat down in his office chair. Ignoring his computer screen, he stuck his hand inside the box of Pocky and grabbed a few sticks before shoving them inside his mouth.

Chewing slowly, his gaze drifted to his computer screen. A box had flashed up while he‘d gotten his box of Pocky. He leaned in closer and saw it was someone replying to his profile. Yanagi cocked his head a little and clicked on it…

* * & * *

It was dark inside Inui’s room, aside from his computer screen. He’d been looking through the many profiles on several dating sites. Much to Inui’s avail, he hadn’t found one decent match that would be a good test subject.

He was on about the hundredth page when he spotted a profile that looked incredibly attractive and definitely a match up for the fake profile Inui had created several weeks before.

“Hmmm… This one looks promising,” Inui muttered as he clicked on the profile to look at the statistics more closely. Quickly, he read over the basic information like the age (24), likes (tennis, computers, wrist weights, chemistry, parasols, shogi and Pocky), dislikes (losing at tennis, milk tea and shoujo novels) and all the other personality traits. All the things he’d read so far were indeed, compatible with the fake profile he’d made.

Sighing, Inui said back in his chair and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Then, Inui looked even closer at the page, eyes shifting over to the occupation information. Occupation: Professional Data Master, Inui read. He paused, staring at that one line, reading it over twenty times.

After only a moment, it made sense to Inui. Not to mention the percentage was high that it was it truly him…

“Renji…”

* * & * *

“Sadaharu…” Yanagi breathed, gaze scanning over the page of information. It was apparent that his friend had been doing the exact same thing he’d been doing for weeks, as evident of the date of creation of the profile - which was no doubt a fake, but entirely Inui generated.

Inui, Yanagi had come to find over the years could be terribly predictable and terribly obvious. He smiled, looking over all the other information: age (24), likes (tennis, data collecting, juice making, histories of meat and pi), dislikes (losing at tennis, opera and high cell phone bills) and all the other personality items listed.

Briefly, he wondered how long it would take before Inui figured out that he’d found Yanagi’s profile. Yanagi calculated about one point six minutes, approximately.

A few moments later, Yanagi heard his cell phone ring - the infamous Poké rap as his ring tone playing loudly - and when he picked it up, he could assume it was only one person.

“Hello?”

“Renji…”

“Ever so punctual, Sadaharu.”

* * & * *

“It still amuses me that we both can come up with the exact same experiment, get the exact same results and somehow you and I always end up sitting on my couch eating bowls of strawberry ice cream,” Inui remarked, glancing over at Yanagi who was balancing a large bowl of ice cream on his lap.

Yanagi looked back at him and smiled, trying not to laugh at their own silliness. “You know… it amuses me as well. It feels like we’re ten years old again.”

Inui nodded at him, “It really does. Do you remember when my mother bought us those two way radios and we would use them to talk about the new Pokémon episodes when we weren’t sitting in the same room together watching them?”

“Naturally. Those were rather brilliant days,” Yanagi was chuckling now and it only made Inui chuckle with him.

“We’re truly predictable, aren’t we?” Yanagi said, after they had stopped their laughing fit.

Inui nodded again, scooping up some ice cream and shoving it into his mouth, “Yeah, we really are predictable. It was a good attempt, testing online dating--”

“--Yet, we should have seen this coming,” Yanagi said, tapping his spoon against the side of the bowl.

“I had predicted you’d engage in this sort of experiment at some point or another, the actual percent being ninety-six point seven.”

“Only ninety-six point seven percent? Hakase, I would have thought you would have found the percentage to be much higher.”

“Hmm. Well, at one point it was ninety-six point eight percent,” Inui told him, still smiling.

“This is why my data is clearly superior to yours, I had calculated you would test this hypothesis in sometime during your life and I found the percentage to be a ninety-nine point five,” Yanagi said, smiling back.

“Well, I had calculated that we’d be sitting here eating ice cream and watching Pokémon re-runs together--”

“--You would have calculated that percentage yesterday, when you had discovered that you had been talking to me rather than some pathetic person looking for a date.”

“Ah, I see. Well, that‘s true. I had indeed found that percentage nearly moments after I realized it was you who I was talking to.”

“What was the percentage, out of curiosity?”

“A whopping ninety-nine percent.”

“What’s the last one percent for?”

“The tiny doubt that you’d let your older brother use your computer to find himself a date.”

Yanagi laughed, “Oh, Sadaharu… your data is as accurate as ever.”

Inui looked at him, chuckling softly, “Don’t you mean our data, Kyouju?”

“Hakase.”

Reveals!

nickelodeon — Wed, 02 May 2007 19:09:04 GMT

Reveals for who wrote/draw what for spring_fluff will be posted one week from today! Be on the look-out to find out who got you!

Hurray!

nickelodeon — Tue, 01 May 2007 21:23:33 GMT

And so everything must come to a close! I'm pretty sure that was the last gift to be posted, however if we neglected to post yours, don't hesitate to tell us!

So as a finale, I will now post some things I collected together from various anonymous people for my lovely co-mod takewing!

Title: Love in five shots
Pairing: Fuji/Ryoma
Rating: PG
A/N: ♥

i. we'll hang the baskets on the wall

On March seventeenth there is barely any sun out but still Tezuka agrees to meet Fuji for a short training system. One hour bleeds into three before Tezuka says "enough" and sits down, breathing barely strained. Fuji sits next to him, water bottle pressed to his lips as he watches the court which looks so bare without anything but scattered tennis balls.

"Good game, Tezuka," says Fuji.

Tezuka looks at him briefly, his forehead creasing into a faint frown. Fuji can see the disappointment in his eyes but doesn't say anything about it as he turns his eyes skyward, watching the stray clouds pass overhead. Everything feels spread out from him after games and he wonders sometimes if he's flying or continually falling. He suspects they both feel about the same.

When Tezuka mutters something about wasted potential, he smiles and closes his eyes, letting the sun sink into his skin.

ii. making lines across the darkening sky

The truth is, Fuji doesn't even notice it's raining until he shoes skid and he looks down quickly to see why. Ryoma is measuring every movement of his, even under the mass of dark clouds that continue to rain on the whole of Seigaku, spattering down their clothes, leaving them soaking. Fuji barely feels it and Ryoma seems too busy trying to beat him to care.

Ryuzaki stops the game but Fuji keeps thinking about it all the way home. He chooses to walk in the rain, liking the cold feel of it down his neck and shoulders. His body is warm and he is only beginning to shudder when he walks in the front door, tracking water inside. He reaches his room and lays his tennis bag on the floor, flopping onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. His eyes are half-open as his brain subconsciously analyses the new moves and plays Ryoma has taken a mere match to learn. The sky turns blacker outside, thunder loud against the window.

His eyes are nearly closed when he sees Ryoma clear in his mind: his white hat drenched, legs and arms wet from where they stick out of his tennis uniform, eyes determined beneath the white brim. Hazel.

Delicate, thinks Fuji just before falling asleep.

iii. i stand on painted tape

Ryoma is leaning against the wall, one knee bent to keep him propped up against it as he watches. Fuji's palms lie flat on the bench as he tries to steady his breath. His head is bent low, a towel on top to muffle the heat of the sun. He never expected a tennis game to be this difficult, especially when the opponent wasn't Tezuka. He can feel the thrill of that challenge running through his blood, tempered with annoyance at being pushed so far.

He knows Ryoma is behind him. It seems like he always knows where he is and he isn't sure he likes it. There's a loss of control, something that makes Fuji hesitate every now and again. He likes Ryoma, and it bothers him. Fuji likes a lot of people, but this is only the second time in his life that he has begun to feel nervous about it.

"Echizen, you're next!" he hears Momo say, followed by "kill them!" Kaidoh's voice is next, accompanied by the sound of a fist hitting something. "Fshuu. Stop being so loud, baka."

Fuji reaches for Ryoma's hand before he steps onto the court. "Fuji-senpai?" Ryoma asks after a few seconds.

His head is still bowed, fingers circled lightly over Ryoma's wrist that doesn't feel the way he imagined. Slowly, he raises his head, blue eyes flashing, taking in the confusion in Ryoma's features before he forces a smile. He lets go of Ryoma and hands him a water bottle. "Make sure you stay hydrated."

"...Thanks," says Ryoma, uncapping the bottle to take three long pulls before heading onto the court. He glances at Fuji, who is talking with Kawamura; as he gets ready to serve, he looks at his fingers. He thinks about that moment shorter than a second where Fuji's fingertips grazed his before letting go of the bottle. The referee begins the match and Ryoma has no time to think about why his heart is beating a little faster than it usually does before a game.

iv. the more it all will pass you by

It's October and overcast when Tezuka refuses a match from Fuji. His face is serious, tennis bag over his shoulder as he considers Fuji thoughtfully.

His voice is grave and Fuji wants to tease him, but stays quiet this time. "You need to take yourself seriously."

Fuji blinks. He doesn't miss the quick glance over at Ryoma he can see behind the framed glasses.

"Or no one else will," Tezuka adds before walking away. Fuji doesn't follow him, choosing a different path than normal to get home. He walks and doesn't think - only sees, watching the gray sky from time to time, as if waiting for it to clear.

He recognizes Ryoma's house from outside and walks closer; when he hears familiar, tennis-like sounds he walks to the courtyard where the impromptu tennis court lies. Ryoma is practicing against an old monk, who laughs and plays in mocking positions. Fuji can tell from the way Ryoma is standing that he is determined to win, annoyance evident in his next serve. Fuji leans against a cold wall and watches until his cell phone vibrates, his sister's text informing him that Yuuta is home and that he should hurry.

v. the bricks and mortar have all given way

It isn't a date. Ryoma says so, twice. Even when Fuji sits next to him in the movie theater or when they end up sharing popcorn - it's still not a date.

It continues to be not-a-date when Fuji asks Ryoma if he's hungry, offering to buy dinner. It's especially not a date when Fuji nudges Ryoma's toe with his own underneath the table and Ryoma kicks him in the shin, his cheeks darkening; or when he splits his fries with Ryoma, feeding him two before having his hand batted away.

It's still not a date as they walk home - but then Fuji's fingertips find Ryoma's wrist and slide down along the line of his palm, waiting through a few breaths before sliding between Ryoma's fingers. Their hands are interlocked, but just barely and Ryoma doesn't say anything. Fuji walks closer to him and Ryoma's eyes widen.

They stand awkwardly together at the entrance to Ryoma's house, side-by-side, until Ryoma turns and stands on tip-toe, kissing Fuji on the cheek. Fuji looks down at him; lowers his mouth to Ryoma's, whispering his name before their lips meet, sweet and fumbling, a mix of wet and warm.

Fuji doesn't open his eyes until he feels something pushing at his chest. He smiles when he sees it's Ryoma's hand, thin but forceful. Ryoma's eyes are darker at night and Fuji wants to run his fingers over his eyelids, tracing their outline. Instead, he releases their fingers, taking one step back. "Sweet dreams, Echizen," he says. "Try not to dream of me too much."

"Mada mada, Fuji-senpai," Ryoma grumbles with flushed cheeks before heading inside.

Fuji tries not to smile too much the next day when Ryoma grudgingly admits that it was a possibly-not-not-a-date, figuring it is more effective to push Ryoma's hat back just enough to sneak in another kiss before the others arrive on the courts.

He catches Tezuka's eye later and almost wishes their buchou was the type to high five, just this once.

--------------------------------------------

Title: And Violets are Blue
Rating: PG at MOST
Pairing(s):
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Dorky!Seigaku, excessive italics, silliness that may border on slight crack, invasion of Ryoma's privacy by pretty much the entire world.
Author's notes: ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

The rose was a soft milky white, its delicate petals molded into a perfect shape, as if it wasn't even real. But it was quite real—its sweet aroma was evidence enough.

It had no place in a locker in the Seigaku tennis clubroom, but apparently that didn't discourage it in the least.

Ryoma stood rooted where he was for a moment, just staring at it, his face betraying no surprise over just what the hell a rose was doing in his locker. He thought briefly that he should probably get rid of it, but that would involve touching it, which would involve accepting that the rose did, in fact, exist. And that it was in his locker. Being a rose.

What the hell.

Finally, he turned to leave the clubroom, as morning practice was about to start and some stupid rose in his locker wasn't going to prevent him from playing tennis.

"Oh? What's this, Echizen?"

On the other hand, maybe leaving it there wasn't the best idea, either.

"Fuji-sempai," he said, turning back to see the smiling boy inspecting the flower carefully. "What is it?"

Cocking his head, Fuji lightly fingered the white petals. "Why, it looks like you've completely overlooked this gift in your locker. I wonder what it could be?"

Ryoma was about to snatch the rose out of Fuji's grasp and throw it in the nearest trash bin when somebody else grabbed it.

"Ohh, what's this, Fuji-sempai?" Momoshiro said in mock wonder, eyeing the rose suspiciously. "Has ickle Echizen got a secret admirer? The little stud!"

"Momo-sempai." Ryoma grabbed the rose as Momoshiro cackled. "Shut up."

By this time, most of the others present had taken notice and were gathering around.

"Ehh?" Kikumaru wrapped his arms tightly around Ryoma's shoulders, grinning cheekily. "Ochibi has an admirer? How cute!"

Oishi sighed as he pulled Kikumaru off of their poor super rookie. "Everyone, let's not get too excited about this. Echizen does have a fanclub, after all, so it shouldn't be too strange..."

"Maybe it's the Ryuuzaki girl?" Kawamura mused.

"That's it, Taka-san!" Momoshiro exclaimed. "I bet it was her! Ahh, young love..."

Inui tapped his pen on his open notebook, frowning slightly. "Considering her nature, I'd estimate there's only a three percent chance of that..."

Ryoma, meanwhile, had pulled his hat down and left his sempai to chatter among themselves. "Che. Mada mada dane."

Opening the clubroom door, he was stopped in his tracks as he saw their team captain waiting outside. He didn't look too happy, but then again, he didn't usually.

The chatter died off as Tezuka glared down his team, evaluating the situation. Finally, he said, "What is the meaning of this?"

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Inui offered an explanation. "Tezuka. Approximately 6.3 minutes ago Echizen found a white rose in his locker, from a secret admirer, it would seem. This is most unusual, as I'm sure you're aware, so we were merely discussing and sharing our hypotheses. It is a matter of utmost importance, you see."

Tezuka was silent for a moment, taking in the information. Finally, he spoke.

"Twenty laps, all of you. Now."

--

In the following days, Ryoma continued to find roses in his locker. Sometimes they were white, sometimes pink, sometimes the gaudiest shade of purple known to man. (The purple ones, Inui later noted, found themselves in the garbage bin 68.4% sooner than the others.) Pulling a rose out of his locker always resulted in a chorus of snickers from his teammates, but after a week they had more or less died down, the novelty of the situation spent.

Then Ryoma began to receive three roses at a time, and the teasing started up again full-force.

Then he started getting tags on the roses, and while that seemed such an insignificant factor to him, that was when his sempai seemed to become obsessed with finding out the source of the flowers.

"They're giving us hints now!" Kikumaru had said, bouncing on his heels in excitement. "It'll be fun, like a detective story! We can be Akechi Kogorou or Sherlock Holmes or something!"

Except Sherlock Holmes had never had to deal with something as trite as junior high love confessions, Ryoma thought as he peeked into his locker on the twelfth day. Sighing, he took the three roses—pink, this time—and absently held them older his shoulder for someone to take. He'd more or less resigned himself to letting his sempai play their little detective game for a few minutes before trashing the roses on the way out to run laps for dawdling.

"Thank you, Echizen," Inui said as he took the roses. "I actually was brainstorming last night and thought of a way to possibly identify further clues."

"Good for you," Ryoma muttered as he changed into his jersey, but it went unheard as his teammates were much more interested in what Inui had to say.

Inui tugged the tag off the roses, inspecting it carefully; it was addressed to Ryoma in grandiose calligraphy, but unsigned, as per usual. "Hmm..."

"What is it, Sempai?" Kaidou asked, and Ryoma couldn't help cocking an eyebrow in curiosity as well.

Inui stared at the tag for a moment longer before announcing, "This tag seems to be made of high-quality paper imported from Thailand."

"Thailand?" Ryoma repeated. He didn't even know Thailand was particularly renowned for its paper. It was also strange that Inui could tell just by looking, but, well... Inui was pretty strange.

"Whoever is leaving you these roses must care for you a lot, if they're using such high-quality paper."

Ryoma was skeptical. Seriously, who put that much thought into those things?

All his sempai seemed to buy it, though. He struggled to change into his tennis uniform as Kikumaru and Momoshiro pounced on him and ruffled his hair, congratulating him on his engagement to Anonymous-san (since when did expensive paper equal engagement?).

Predictably, they were all late to practice, much to Tezuka's irritation.

--

"I've considered the circumstances," Inui reported at lunch that day, "and there is approximately a 34% chance that Echizen's roses are from an individual not attending Seigaku."

The other third-years nodded intently.

"How did you reach that conclusion?" Fuji asked.

"I've been checking in on the clubroom at various points during the day, and the roses never appear before it's locked up for the night. If Echizen's admirer were a student here, they'd have plenty of opportunities to deliver the roses during the school day." He adjusted his glasses before continuing. "That isn't to say that a Seigaku student would definitely leave the roses during that time, of course, and during the school day or not, there's no question that the campus is more accessible to Seigaku students, which is why there's still a 66% chance that it's one of our schoolmates." He paused, and then added, "Of that 66%, there is a 30% chance that the perpetrator is one Oishi Shuuichirou."

"Me?!" Oishi's face turned bright red, and Kikumaru let out an indignant 'nya!' "Why me?!"

Inui was stone-faced as he said simply, "You're the one with the clubroom keys."

"It's not me, though." Oishi frowned defiantly. "I don't know why you would even think that."

"I didn't, actually. I was just joking."

There was a collective groan.

Inui flipped to a page in his notebook and went on. "After all, my data says that of all the individuals on the team, Oishi scores as one of the lowest on the Echizen attraction meter."

Everyone lunged to take a peek at the notebook but Inui snapped it shut just in time.

"Now, hold on," Oishi said after recovering from Inui's rather unfunny joke. "If I'm the one locking up the clubroom, and the roses aren't there before then, then how is whoever it is getting in?" For good measure, he added, "And it's not me."

"Breaking and entering, most likely," Fuji responded with a smile.

Oishi balked at that information. "And is no one concerned over that?"

"But they're just leaving flowers, Oishi!" Kikumaru grinned. "It's not hurting anything!"

"At least there's no damage to the door or windows?" Kawamura added helpfully.

"It certainly isn't easy to manage that," Fuji finished.

Oishi wasn't comforted, even if he ignored Fuji. "But it's the principle of the matter! Whoever it is is trespassing, and that's not right!"

"Speaking of trespassing, why are all of you crowded around my desk?"

All eyes turned to Tezuka, who looked none too pleased as he tried to enjoy, or at least mildly tolerate, his lunch.

Inui opened his mouth to speak, but Tezuka held up a hand, silencing him. "Thirty laps at afternoon practice. All of you."

--

After three weeks, Ryoma started receiving full bouquets of a dozen roses. The tags were printed with messages that everyone was certain were soppy French love poems, but they couldn't be sure because none of them knew French.

Tezuka, after confirming that no, he did not know French, assigned fifty laps.

--

"Ryoma-sama!!"

Ryoma groaned and lifted his head off his desk. He was tired from running so many laps for something that wasn't his fault; he didn't need people coming in and making a ruckus at him for no reason. "What?" he asked irritably, glaring at that loud girl with the beauty mark who Ryuuzaki was friends with—damned if he could remember her name.

"Ryoma-sama, I heard that you've been getting roses in your locker for the past few weeks!" she said, looking none too pleased. "What is this about? I haven't given anyone clearance to access your locker!"

"It's not your place to be giving clearance to access my locker in the first place," Ryoma responded flatly.

The girl sniffed haughtily, standing up straight. "Of course it is! I'm president of your fan club, so these things have to go through me first!"

How stupid.

"If there was anything I could do about it, I would have already," Ryoma sighed, resting his head on his arms again. "Go back to your own class, homeroom is almost over."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pout before turning on her heel and leaving the room. Stupid beauty mark girl.

...Beauty mark...?

--

Ryoma was pretty certain of the identity of his "secret admirer," but when he entered the clubroom on the twentieth day to find himself knee-deep in red roses, he swore that he'd give up tennis forever if it turned out to be anyone else. There was only one person who was rich enough and mental enough to do something so outrageous.

Probably. Unless he had some rich, mental stalker that he didn't even know.

...So maybe he'd give up tennis for a few days if he turned out to be wrong.

Still, he was certain enough to skip afternoon practice in favor of making a trip to Hyotei Gakuen. And Ryoma found that even in a gaggle of two hundred club members plus what seemed like a million shrieking fangirls on the sidelines, it was fairly easy to find who he was looking for, since he practically radiated with what he probably thought was Awesome but was really just Mada Mada Dane.

Ryoma stared up at him. He stared down at Ryoma. Then, after a few moments of intense staring action, Ryoma threw his tennis bag between then, overflowing with red roses. "Atobe. What the hell."

"Ahhn?" Atobe cradled his chin between his thumb and forefinger (trying to look cool or something), a smug grin plastered across his face. "You didn't like the gifts I have so selflessly bestowed upon you?"

"I have no use for roses."

"They aren't meant to be useful, they're meant to convey meaning," Atobe declared.

Ryoma only raised an eyebrow. "So what are they supposed to mean?"

Atobe didn't answer, he only smirked and did that weird hand-face thing and stared at Ryoma.

"Hey." Ryoma looked over his shoulder to see that guy with the blue baseball cap addressing him. "What do you think red roses are supposed to mean? Seriously, Atobe has been fawning over you for forever and it's been so lame."

"Shishido speaks nonsense," Atobe said dismissively as he lowered his hand.

"Oh don't try to deny it, Atobe!"

Atobe frowned sternly. "This has nothing to do with you. Please go back to practicing with Ootori."

Huffing indignantly, Shishido turned around and retreated back to where his doubles partner was waiting.

Ryoma looked back at Atobe incredulously. "Seriously? Is that what all this was about?"

Atobe didn't confirm or deny it, he only chuckled and said, "So have you been awed by my prowess?"

"Absolutely not," came the immediate answer. After a moment of thought, however, Ryoma added, "But if you shower me in Ponta instead of roses I might consider it."

--

Ryoma returned to his own tennis practice soon after, with fifty-some cans of Ponta in his tennis bag.

Tezuka ordered him to run a hundred laps.

-----------------------------------------

Title: Nfu, Yuuta-kun
Rating: G
Pairing(s): Mizuki/Yuuta
Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis at all. But only because Konomi stole it from me. That thieving bastard is going down in all the worst ways.
Warnings: If I pointed them out, you'd only look for them.
Artist's Notes: Nfu.

"Yuuta-kun," said Mizuki, leaning over Yuuta and presenting a clipboard to him. "Would you like to see the extensive data I've collected on your brother? Nfu."

Thanks everyone who participated!!! ♥

Happy Spring vampy18!

nickelodeon — Tue, 01 May 2007 20:59:05 GMT

Title: Breadcrumbs
Recipient's name: vampy18
Rating: G :| Like. If it were possible to be lower than G, THIS WOULD BE IT.
Pairing(s): Yanagisawa/Atsushi
Disclaimer: Not mine~!
Warnings: Um. Bare chests? (DON'T LET THIS GET YOUR HOPES UP.)
Artist's notes: Happy Spring Fluff, vampy18! ♥ A few notes...
1) Sorry you had to get stuck with my crappy art. :|
2) On top of that, this is the first time I've tried drawing these guys! I HOPE YOU DON'T HATE IT TOO MUCH. ;_;
3) This is probably the most original DuckSushi art EVER. I bet this idea has NEVER been done before.
4) You shouldn't actually feed ducks breadcrumbs. It's not good for them.
Annnd with that, enjoy! :D

Happy Spring chouta_angel x2!

nickelodeon — Tue, 01 May 2007 14:48:29 GMT

Title: The Stages of Courtship
Recipient's name: chouta_angel
Rating: G
Pairing(s): Niou/Yagyuu

Mod Note: Due to a modly miscommunication, chouta_angel...well. You get two fics. We apologize for any inconveniences we caused to the authors and hope that the recipient enjoys their double dose of spring.

I: First Meeting

Niou rattled the bathroom door impatiently. "Did you get them in yet?" he demanded, his voice muffled by the layer of wood separating them.

"Be patient," Yagyuu said. He blinked waterily at his reflection. The right side of his face was clear, while the other was a shapeless blur. He brought the other contact up to his left eye and took a breath.

Another aborted attempt. He was increasingly grateful for his foresight at insisting that Niou remain outside until he'd put the contacts in; he couldn't imagine how humiliating it would be to suffer this trial under the mocking gaze of his doubles partner.

"Yagyuu!" Niou called. "Do you need me to put them in for you?"

"No," Yagyuu said firmly. The day he let Niou poke his fingers into his eyes was the day he had himself committed.

He dripped more solution onto the contact and then pulled up his eyelid for yet another attempt. This time, he was left with an odd sensation on his eye, as though someone had gently blown a bubble onto it, and he drew his hand away carefully. He blinked once, twice and the contact settled into place.

He leaned a little closer to peer at himself. He could see the faint outline around his iris, but his new contacts were undetectable except at very close range. Much more noticeable was the distinct redness of his eyes; he didn't quite look like Kirihara yet, but it wasn't very pretty.

He washed his hands and dried them on a towel, then opened the door to let Niou in.

"Finally!" Niou exploded. He tilted his head to look at Yagyuu. "Was it really that hard to put them in?"

Yagyuu shrugged. "Hard enough."

"They look good, though."

"Thank you."

Niou stared at his face for a long moment, and Yagyuu looked back at him calmly, pretending that he couldn't feel Niou's gaze crawling over him like spiders. Besides, he sort of enjoyed the sensation.

"Okay, we ready to do this?" Niou said at last. He hefted the shopping bag onto the counter and looked Yagyuu over. "You should really take off your shirt. Even a drop of bleach could ruin it."

"Of course," Yagyuu murmured and pulled his shirt over his head. He hung it up on the rack nearest the door.

Never one to be outdone, Niou whipped his shirt off, as well. "We should do you first, since you'll take so much longer," he said. "Get your hair wet."

Yagyuu turned on the shower and stuck his head inside, scrubbing his fingers through his hair to make sure it was completely wet. Niou handed him a towel when he emerged, and he dried his shoulders and back with it.

Meanwhile, Niou had created some bluish gloop that Yagyuu assumed was soon to be decorating his head.

"Are you sure it's supposed to be that color?" he asked.

Niou rolled his eyes at him. "How long have I been dyeing my hair? The blue's to keep your hair from turning orange. It'll look good. Trust me."

As if Yagyuu had a choice. He sat down on the toilet lid and closed his eyes in preparation for Niou's assault on his hair. Niou's hand brushed across the top of his head, and Yagyuu tried to relax even as the sharp smell of the bleach made him wince.

"You're lucky you've got me to do this," Niou said conversationally. "It's really easy to miss spots when you're bleaching your own hair, and then you have to do it all over again."

"Does that mean that I'm going to have to do this for you, next?"

"Nah, I can handle it."

They lapsed into silence after that. Yagyuu let himself enjoy the touch of Niou's hands in his hair--Niou being oddly gentle in his ill-fitting plastic gloves. Finally, Niou wrapped a plastic bag over Yagyuu's hair and tugged off his gloves.

"Okay, you're done. Go find a TV program or a video game or something; this is going to have to sit for a long time."

"How long?" Yagyuu asked suspiciously.

"Oh, you know, two or three hours."

Yagyuu didn't have to look at the mirror to hear the wicked smile in Niou's voice. "Maybe I'll just start a nice book," he said. Niou hated being ignored.

Still, he didn't put up a fuss this time, for reasons that became obvious when he stayed in the bathroom to dye his own hair, then joined Yagyuu in his bedroom for long enough to watch exactly one talk show, before he was back in the bathroom washing out the hairdye.

Yagyuu remained in his room and tried to focus more on the words before him than on his scalp, which had been itching at that point for close to an hour.

"You hungry?" Niou asked when he returned from his shower, as casually as though it were his home and not Yagyuu's.

All things considered, Yagyuu thought it only right that Niou should cook for the both of them. He was better at it, anyway. Yagyuu's culinary skills started and ended with boiling water for ramen, but Niou had been taught to cook by a mother desperate to find something harmless to occupy her son. Yagyuu wasn't sure that playing with both knives and fire truly qualified as harmless, though it was true that Niou hadn't yet caused himself--or anyone else--lasting damage with either.

After they'd finished eating, Niou said, "Your hair looks like it's done. You can go ahead and shower, and make sure you use a ton of conditioner."

Yagyuu hadn't realized that there was quite so much effort involved in the style that Niou wore so carelessly. He went into the bathroom and showered, and then Niou knocked on the door bare seconds after he'd toweled himself off, demanding to be let in so that he could see.

"Just a moment," Yagyuu said and pulled on his underwear and jeans. Then he opened the door and Niou's face lit up.

"That's perfect," he said. "Do you have a comb in here?"

Yagyuu took one out of the cabinet and handed it to Niou, who ran it through Yagyuu's hair in a haphazard fashion that left his hair looking as though he'd just rolled out of bed after a particularly vigorous night. Or, in other words, just as Niou looked every day.

Niou then turned his attention to his own reflection, combing his newly-dark hair until it lay smoothly against his scalp.

"Impressive," Yagyuu said.

"Just wait," Niou said, and pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket. He slipped them on, and Yagyuu stiffened in surprise. Looking at Niou like this, Yagyuu felt as though he were seeing him for the first time. Or perhaps it was himself that he was finally beginning to recognize.

Niou grinned at him. "This is totally going to work."

"Yes," Yagyuu said, "I expect that it will."

II: Stepping Out (in Style)

Rikkai's loss to Seigaku was frankly devastating, even as the success of their ruse might have been cause for some measure of self-congratulation. Niou responded to both by becoming ever more outrageous.

"I think you're wearing my underwear."

Sanada turned his head sharply to look at Niou, and then he scowled. Kirihara stared at the two of them with wide eyes. "Wait, do you mean that Yagyuu-senpai is really wearing your underwear? Or do you mean that he's wearing the rest of your clothes, but he's still wearing his own underwear?"

Even Jackal seemed to be interested in Niou's answer. Niou's eyes were alight with gleeful mischief at the minor commotion he'd wrought.

"He probably isn't wearing any," Marui said, and Yagyuu made a moue of distaste.

"Nope, that's me," Niou said. "Remember, I couldn't find mine?" and the locker room erupted into groans and catcalls that weren't silenced until Niou relented and pulled down his pants to display several inches of blue and yellow cotton.

Which did, in fact, belong to Yagyuu. He made a note to watch Niou more carefully whenever he invited him home.

III: Intimacy

They went to Yagyuu's apartment together afterwards to switch back.

"Do you think I should keep my hair like this?" Niou asked, posing in front of Yagyuu's bathroom mirror. "Just for a couple of days."

"Is confusing your teachers worth the tears when your mother realizes that the change was only temporary?" Yagyuu asked dryly.

Niou turned his head from side to side to better admire himself. "...Maybe?"

Yagyuu hid his amusement behind a bland mask; Niou really could be adorable at times.

"How about you?" Niou asked. "Do you fancy a couple more days as a blond?"

"Not at all," Yagyuu said.

"It could be fun. You could take my history exam for me."

"You could fail my classical Japanese exam," Yagyuu murmured.

"I could get a better score on your math than you could manage with a month of studying," Niou shot back, though he was still grinning.

"Very useful," Yagyuu said. "Except for the fact that I don't have any math exams scheduled until the week after next."

"Right," Niou said in a resigned voice.

Yagyuu snorted and started to work at the thread wound around the braided extension in his hair.

"I can do that," Niou said, and slapped his hands away.

Yagyuu opened his mouth to say So can I, when Niou's fingers tightened in his hair and he kissed him. There was a momentary impression of soft and wet before Niou pulled away again.

"What was that?" Yagyuu asked, not able to see the joke but certain that there was one.

"Haven't you ever wanted to..." Niou trailed off, and then he looked at Yagyuu's face. "To kiss yourself?" he finished quickly.

"I can't say that the idea ever occurred to me."

"Oh." Niou looked unaccountably disappointed at this confession.

Yagyuu shook his head, because, whimsical as Niou's fancy might be, there was a huge difference between being dressed as someone and actually being him. "Niou, I'm not you."

Niou's cheeks burned red so quickly that it seemed as though an invisible hand had just slapped him. "I know that," he said, stepping back another step. "I just... I'll see you later," he muttered, and darted out of the small bathroom.

A minute later, Yagyuu heard his front door slam. He thought briefly about calling Niou, even going so far as to take out his cell phone, but then put it away again. Then he took out the box of brown hair dye and sat down to read the instructions carefully. If he somehow screwed this up, Niou would certainly comment on it. At length. In front of the entire tennis team, plus any convenient passersby.

IV: Commitment

Niou was early to tennis practice the next morning, as was Yagyuu, who'd anticipated Niou's promptness. Sanada changed quickly and left the two of them in the locker room with a glare at Yagyuu which made clear that he expected Yagyuu to be on babysitting duty. Sanada could be surprisingly tolerant when it came to Niou, but he didn't tolerate pranking teammates.

"You dyed your hair," Yagyuu pointed out unnecessarily, just for the pleasure of having Niou roll his eyes at him.

"So did you," Niou said, a bit less unnecessarily.

Yagyuu smoothed a hand over his hair. "It feels different now."

"Yeah, that happens," Niou said. He finished tying his shoelaces and picked up his tennis racket, already on his way out the door. Yagyuu grabbed his wrist before he'd taken more than a step or two. "Hey, wha--" Niou began, when Yagyuu kissed him.

They stood together in the center of the locker room, barely breathing. Niou's mouth was soft and warm against his, and Yagyuu could feel his pulse beating rapidly in his wrist. And then Niou made an incoherent sound and shoved him away.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, staring at Yagyuu with wide eyes.

Yagyuu looked blandly back at him. "Haven't you ever wanted to kiss your doubles partner?" he asked.

There was a long silence as Niou's mouth worked soundlessly, and then he muttered, "Oh, you fuck, I don't believe you," in a purely delighted tone before hauling Yagyuu back against him for another kiss.

Yagyuu slid his arms around Niou's waist, and Niou clutched the front of his tee-shirt tightly with both fists. There was a strong chance that Sanada would return to the clubhouse to see what was keeping them--in fact, Yagyuu suspected that Niou was hoping for just such an outcome--but this was more important.

Happy Spring chouta_angel!

nickelodeon — Tue, 01 May 2007 14:46:06 GMT

Title: The One Where Shishido Gets Punched in the Face.
Recipient's name: chouta_angel
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Shishido/Ohtori.
Disclaimer: (if different from the standard)
Warnings: Sexual elements.
Author’s notes: A huge thank you to my betas. You guys are awesome.

I hope this is to your liking, chouta_angel! It was a pleasure to write. Have a great spring. :D

----

I'm not sure how to word this, but I really look up to you and admire your strength but recently that has shifted into something... different. Or at least I think it's different. I'm not quite sure how to approach it. You keep looking at me strangely, expecting more from me and it makes me feel like I'm disappointing you. I can't tell you directly. I'm not even sure why I'm writing this out because that is just pointless. I know I won't give this to you but maybe writin

---

The paper crumples between his fingers, his fist clenching tightly around it and trapping it against his palm. He can feel the edges sticking into his skin, creating paper cuts that will make holding his racket painful for the next few days but that seems unimportant compared to the contents of this one, small sheet of torn paper. It is such an insignificant looking piece of paper, one that was probably ripped out of a school note book and shoved hastily out of sight. Probably forgotten as well.

Shishido frowns at nothing in particular, standing alone in the silent change room by Ohtori's open locker. The short note ends abruptly, unfinished and it leaves him feeling confused and angry.

The room suddenly feels a lot smaller than it really is. He feels almost trapped. The need to escape nearly overwhelms him. He doesn't allow himself time to analyze this strange feeling; he simply follows his instincts and leaves the change-room to get fresh air.

Without thinking, he shoves the piece of paper into his pocket with one hand and reaches for Ohtori's bag with the other, slamming the locker door shut with his shoulder as he turns towards the door to leave.

Ohtori has a crush.

Shishido's frown deepens until it's indistinguishable from a scowl. Ohtori doesn't have time to be distracted by a crush. Especially not a crush on him. It would make playing doubles difficult if Ohtori was to get confused and distracted by his emotions. It could cost them important matches. Tennis is more important. Winning and proving that they are the best is more important. Tennis and crushes aren't even on the same level. Crushes shouldn't be an issue that they need to worry about but it seems as if he’s the only one who’s thinking that way.

As he reaches the exit, he glances to his left towards the mirror near the doorway and adjusts his hat automatically, looking himself up and down out of habit. He scowls at his reflection, pulling a face before pushing the door open and walking outside. It's a lot cooler now; the sun low in the sky and tinting the clouds pink and purple as it gradually descends. There is hardly anyone around, only lone figures that move across pathways in the distance, walking from one building to another or leaving the school completely, but Shishido ignores them and they ignore him. They're not important to each other.

Shishido glances around but Ohtori isn't there like he said he would be. "Lame," he mutters under his breath, shifting Ohtori's bag on his shoulder, trying to dislodge it from digging into his back awkwardly.

At least Ohtori being late gives him more time to think. Whether to ask Ohtori directly about the note or to leave it; pretend he's not aware of its existence until he knows for definite whether Ohtori likes him or not. Neither option is really overly appealing to him. The idea of leaving the contents of the note nagging at him from the back of his mind, wondering constantly and distracting him, isn't a very intelligent idea. But the idea of asking Ohtori outright makes him feel awkward and flustered. It’s a feeling he'd rather not experience unless he truly has to.

Right that second he wishes that Atobe hadn't needed to have an important but private talk with Ohtori and asked him 'politely' to retrieve his kouhai's bag from his locker. If none of that had happened, he would probably never have found the note and wouldn't be standing there preoccupied by its existence.

"Shishido-san," a voice calls from his right.

Shishido looks over and almost grimaces when he sees Ohtori walking his way, his long legs making him reach him quicker than expected. "Here," Shishido mutters, shrugging off Ohtori's bag and handing it over to him. When Ohtori passes his bag back to him, he grunts a thank you and stands there uneasily as he shifts it onto his back, noticeably lighter than what Ohtori's bag was.

"I'm sorry that I made you wait, Shishido-san," Ohtori says, looking apologetic and almost forlorn. Ohtori frowns, shifting from one foot to another. "I don't even know what he wanted exactly. It didn't seem very important. Not like he led us to believe."

"Whatever. It's Atobe." Shishido attempts a smile but probably fails, too distracted to really make an effort in pretending. "Uh, I have to go home sooner than I thought," he says. "I forgot I have a family thing happening. Can we train tomorrow night?"

Shishido hates to lie, even if it's only a small one and for Ohtori's best interest -- it's still a lie. There would be no good coming from them spending extra unnecessary time together until Shishido wraps his mind around this new knowledge. There is no harm in cutting out earlier than usual.

"That's okay, Shishido-san," Ohtori reassures with a small smile. "I was just about to tell you I need to cancel tonight anyway. Hiyoshi-kun invited me to see a movie and I said I'd go."

The urge to scowl again is almost too tempting and he hopes he can manage to resist it. It is one thing for him to cancel because he needs to think things over but it's another thing for Ohtori to ditch him for an outing with Hiyoshi. Even if he's a team-mate.

"Okay," he replies with a shrug, turning away. "I'll see you at tomorrow’s practice."

Ohtori smiles and nods, lifting his hand in a small, parting wave. "Have a nice evening with your family, Shishido-san."

Shishido feels rotten inside for his lie. Even if his intentions are, in his mind, perfectly valid and reasonable. Ohtori's easy trust in him, not even pausing to question if what he said was the truth, makes him a little uneasy. It had never bothered him before – the unquestioned trust. Perhaps because he never had a real reason to pay that close attention before now. It had always just been that way and he had accepted it. Only now it made him think that perhaps it wasn’t such a great thing.

Now that his awareness of Ohtori has shifted into something unfamiliar and new, his thinking is beginning to change and he is already seeing him differently

---

For the first time that he can remember, he is too preoccupied to even notice how long the walk from school to his home is. Normally he catches a bus, or his brother picks him up or he goes somewhere with Ohtori. But today he walks alone, paying no mind to the steep hills he walks up or street after street of roads he has to cross. It all blends in together and he’s unaware of his aching muscles and tense shoulders, finally reaching his home. The hour long walk is gone in a blink of an eye.

No one is home and Shishido is grateful for the silence.

Food is quickly prepared, cheese sliced and bread buttered and he drops the sandwich haphazardly onto a random plate before moving towards the stairs to his room. He carefully places the plate on his bedside table as he sits down on his bed, falling back until he's lying down and looking blankly at the ceiling. Reaching up, he pushes his hat off his head and throws it across the room, vaguely hearing it hit the opposite wall.

The original anger and confusion that had developed after reading the note has long faded into numbness, his mind easily reflecting over the words and he blindly reaches into his pocket. The paper is still there, crinkled and bunched up, but still there. Shishido slowly pulls it out, bringing it up to his face and he stares at it for a moment, not bothering to unfold it so he can read it. He still remembers pretty much everything that was written anyway. Part of him wants to burn the paper, wants to watch it as it smolders into nothing but ash, then have the wind blow it away so easily that it's forgotten. No longer existing.

But a bigger part, to his shame, can't even bring himself to drop the paper from his hand, let alone destroy it.

Shishido swears under his breath, glaring at the paper and he feels his stomach twist unpleasantly.

There is no time for crushes. Tennis comes first. Winning is more important. He isn't old enough to understand or want a teenage romance or some silly love affair. Ohtori is younger than him and most definitely shouldn't be thought of like that. It's not right. Shishido repeats these things to himself, firstly in his mind then he starts murmuring it under his breath.

But he can't deny that it doesn't cross his mind, as much as he wants to deny it and forget it. Before today, he'd never even let his mind wander in that direction. It wasn't a part of his thought process but it’s like this one note opened his mind to possibilities. Possibilities that he doesn't want - but does want.

He finally realizes that he's gripping the note firmly in his palm again, a tight fist crushing the paper even more and almost destroying it anyway. The sound of his heartbeat is deafening and he's panting heavily.

He swears again but this time very loudly.

---

The next day is awkward.

Or it is in his mind. Arriving at school he is greeted by both Ohtori and Hiyoshi, and by his deduction, they must have slept at either one of their houses the night before and had come to school together. The day becomes even more awkward for him when he feels a pang of jealousy and wants to ask what they did, where they slept, what they watched and lastly - did Hiyoshi do anything that he needs to be yelled at for?

Shishido leaves them quickly, ignoring the way Ohtori’s expression shifts from happy to confused at his sudden departure and how Hiyoshi places his hand on Ohtori's arm and smiles up at him.

Jealousy wasn't an emotion he should be feeling. Hiyoshi might not always be his favorite person but he was still a team-mate and they were, in a way, friends. But not as close as he and Ohtori were.

When had it changed from anger to jealousy? To being annoyed by the possible interruption of the way they interacted as doubles partners to not wanting Ohtori to be touched by a mutual friend or anyone else?

A thought occurs to him and it’s enough to make him freeze in the crowded corridor, students crashing into him and each other, yelling out protests and disgruntled remarks in his direction. But he barely notices, let alone acknowledges his abrupt standstill and he quickly turns into an empty classroom. He moves towards a desk, hands falling flat onto the hard surface and he stares at it blankly.

What if the note wasn’t meant for him?

It is a possibility. But taking that into consideration, as much as he doesn't want to, forces him to ask himself why he assumed it was referring to him in the first place. There is no name on the note. Nothing hinting at the intended recipient. For all he knew, it could have been for Hiyoshi and that was why Ohtori had canceled the day before. They spent the night together. Ohtori and he have never done that – it had never come up.

Shishido slams his fist onto the desk, standing straight and he adjusts his hat roughly, almost dropping it.

It is too much to take in.

---

Falling asleep has never been an issue for him. It was simply a matter of brushing his teeth, putting his sleepwear on and climbing onto bed. Five minutes later he is asleep. Simple and natural. Falling asleep later that night didn’t happen. Instead he spends his time thinking. He’s never been someone who over-analyses everything that happens in his life. Most of the time he just lets things happen without batting an eye but for once he can’t stop himself from thinking and thinking.

In the morning his eyes are bleary, red and swollen. His mother just looks at him and pushes a bowl in front of him, gesturing for him to eat. Days off from school due to lack of sleep don't exist in their home, and even if it did he wouldn’t take it up. He ends up being ten minutes late for his first class, arriving covered in sweat and panting, his jacket falling off his shoulders and his tie attempting to strangle him. Classmates hide their amusement behind their hands, whispering to each other and passing notes. Shishido just ignores them and sits down at his desk, untangling himself from his possessed uniform.

He can already tell it’s going to be another long day.

---

There is a commotion in the change room after practice. All their bags and clothing are scattered around, shirts hanging from shower heads, underwear in sinks and a pair of shoes in a toilet. The regulars stand around, looking at everything and then at each other. Nothing like this has happened before but they all have a general idea of who it was. A second year, frustrated and angry after being humiliated because of an embarrassing defeat. It's a stupid form revenge.

No one says anything. They each collect their clothing, stuffing them into their bags and tidying up. It goes unsaid that Atobe will handle the second year, that he'll never be seen on a court or in the school again. Shishido feels nothing towards the boy. He only looks towards Ohtori, watching him change and pull his school pants up.

"I think you're wearing my underwear," Shishido says loudly before it even sinks in. He flushes, feeling his face heat up and he drops his school bag. Ohtori turns around, confused and awkward. His pants are halfway up his thighs and he's bent forward, still in the act of tugging them up. They look at each other, neither knowing what to say or what to do. Ohtori looks away first, gazing down at himself and Shishido watches as Ohtori stiffens and slowly stands up. Instead of taking his pants back off like Shishido thought he would, Ohtori just looks straight at him and pulls them up completely, the sound of his zipper closing the only sound in the room.

"Sorry, Shishido-san. I must have picked them up by mistake." Only Ohtori doesn't sound sorry at all and Shishido watches him as he leaves, not looking at anyone else as he hurriedly exits the change-room.

The rest of the team remains silent as they prepare to leave and Shishido finds it unsettling. Normally Gakuto or Oshitari would take this opportunity to make a lewd remark but neither of them say a word. Shishido leaves five minutes after Ohtori but doesn't see him anywhere on the school grounds.

---

The weekend is long and dull, nothing but a mountain of homework to entertain him and it barely holds his interest for longer than five minutes every time he manages to focus on the numbers in front of him. Each time he thinks that he is getting somewhere, that another math problem is solved and correct, his mind drifts and he loses his place. It's frustrating and irritating and he wants to punch something, anything, to release the gradually building tension inside of him.

Nothing is going how he wants it to. He had a fight with his father and was grounded for the weekend, got reprimanded by Atobe because he had to miss a team practice and his mother stopped speaking to him when he accidentally knocked over her favorite flower vase. Being confined to his bedroom is sending him spiraling into a place where he has to think to entertain himself. No internet, no TV, not even a tennis ball to bounce and throw. Nothing but homework and his slowly expanding imagination

After the last practice, the last thing he needs is for his thoughts to wander and imagine what Ohtori did when he got home. Wonder if he removed his underwear straight away and put them into the wash, or wonder if he continued wearing them for the rest of the day. Wonder, if maybe, he slept with them on all night. It’s a dangerous line of thinking but every time he gets to that place, it’s like he can't pull away and has to keep going, deeper and deeper until the need to remove the tension from himself is too great and he feels like he's going to explode.

In the end his self control breaks. Afterwards, he stares at the ceiling, blinking slowly and wonders, if maybe, Ohtori had done something similar the night before.

---

Blushing is what girls do when they're embarrassed or being girly and weird. Shishido never blushes and never plans to. When Ohtori comes over the next morning and wakes him by sitting on his bed, Shishido doesn't blush but flushes and pulls his blankets higher over his chest. There is a large difference between blushing and flushing. Flushing is acceptable and the only one Shishido will acknowledge and admit to doing.

"Choutarou?! What-- How?" Shishido chokes out. He coughs to clear the roughness from his voice and blinks rapidly, pulling the blanket up even further when he remembers what he did the night before. Shishido feels the heat in his cheeks intensify. Nothing could be more unsettling for him than what he is having to experience right that second. Normally he sleeps in his sweatpants and a loose shirt but he had removed them when he went to bed. Now there is only one thin sheet separating them and Shishido is very conscious of the musky scent lingering around him.

Ohtori doesn't say anything at first, just sits at the end of his bed, fingers picking at the loose bit of cotton on the blanket. Shishido brings his legs up and away from Ohtori, not wanting to find out what would happen if Ohtori were to unintentionally touch his leg. In his present state, he doesn't trust himself and doesn't want to do anything he might regret later..

"Choutarou," he says again, this time more calmly. He brushes his fingers through his hair, pushing strands out of his eyes and off his forehead.

There is a rustling and Shishido's lap suddenly has a bag on it. "What is this?" Without waiting, he opens the bag and immediately closes it, wondering if it was in fact possible for him to blush. Flustered was another more fitting word.

"Ah. Uh, thank you," he finally mutters, keeping the bag closed. He doesn't look at Ohtori.

"Sorry that I didn't bring them around sooner, Shishido-san." Ohtori's voice is strained and quiet, and Shishido looks at him quickly but Ohtori still isn't looking back.

Shishido smiles tightly. "At least they weren't Atobe's or Oshitari's, right?"

It’s a relief to see Ohtori relax, his shoulders dropping and he smiles, finally turning to look at him directly. "My mother made me bring them around. Your mother told me you were grounded but I told her why I came over." Ohtori's smile turns almost teasing. "She said that she hadn't known about the mix-up and told me to come straight up after I mentioned they didn't need washing since I had already taken care of that."

The teasing smile fades somewhat and Shishido is almost taken aback when a faint flush tints Ohtori's cheeks. He coughs again, this time to give Ohtori a chance to collect himself and control his reactions. The abrupt change doesn't help Shishido in the slightest, in fact it only makes things worse and worse. The possibility that Ohtori had done it. Had worn his underpants and touched himself, gotten off and then taken the time to wash them clean again... In his mind, the chance is higher and his imagination runs with it, creating a colourful array of mental images. It is enough to get him into even more trouble if Ohtori was to edge closer to him, or to move the blanket or any number of things that could happen and expose his rapidly growing problem.

When he speaks again, his voice is deeper and gruffer, unlike how he normally speaks to anyone.

"I think you better go now, Choutarou."

There is no offer of further explanation or even a trace of apology in his tone. All he wants right that second is either Ohtori out of the room so he can take care of his problem or Ohtori in the room and under the sheets with him. There is only one option and that is for Ohtori to leave. No matter how cold he has to be. He'll make up for it the next time he sees him. That is if he can look him in the face, in the eye and not flush in embarrassment.

When he hears his door shut, the sound of footsteps descending and the front door slamming, he loses all of his desire and he flops back down on the bed, he kicks his legs out and the blanket falls off the bed. As frustrated and on edge he was only moments ago, he is now the complete opposite and he lies there, once again thinking too much for his own sanity.

---

It cannot be left like this. It’s been barely a fortnight since he found the note but it’s more like it has been one long day that refuses to end and continues in a cycle. It is making him moodier than usual, snapping at random people when they try to talk to him or accidentally bump into him.

He ends up with a black eye when he crosses paths with Rikkaidai's Kirihara and makes a comment about his girlfriend's too short skirt. The comment seemed fine at the time but an hour later, sitting with an ice-pack on his face and his mother scolding him, he decides that telling a crazy person their girlfriend looks like a whore isn't a good idea. No matter how you are feeling or even if you're irrationally jealous over the fact that they were walking around holding hands. The memory of it makes him wrinkle his nose and his eyes water from pain.

Shishido leaves his mother and the icepack, deciding he needs to go for another walk before he snaps at his mother for her ever increasing commentary about Good Boys and Bad Boys, and black eyes and her disappointment in his involvement with fighting. It is not like he wanted to be punched and he didn't hit Kirihara back or anything. He just walked off, leaving his girlfriend to do the scolding. It’s almost worth the black eye to see Kirihara cower in front of Tachibana An.

There is a park near his house and he heads for that. When he arrives there, he is taken aback when he sees Hiyoshi idly pushing himself on the swing, kicking up the sand under his feet and letting them drag around. As he gets closer, Shishido calls out to him, waving when Hiyoshi's head jerks up and he looks in his direction.

"Hey," Shishido says stiffly as he leans against the pole of the swing set.

"Shishido-senpai."

Neither of them say anything for a few minutes and Shishido is unsure why it is awkward since there really isn't any reason to be. Hiyoshi, as far as he knows, has no reason to be uncomfortable.

"You know that Ohtori-kun likes you, right?"

Shishido blinks as he takes in what Hiyoshi just said, not moving from where he is standing but frowns instead, his mouth forming a straight line. It bothers him that Hiyoshi had just asked that. Hiyoshi made it real and there is no way to take that back or deny it. It was okay to hope that maybe Ohtori liked him, even if it made playing tennis together difficult and possibly created distractions, but he could live with that. It hadn't been real and he could focus on tennis. But now hearing that, it made everything more clear and it turned the 'maybes' into real possibilities.

Shishido closes his eyes and sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. The irrational jealousy that maybe the note had been for Hiyoshi lingers and he has a moment of suspicion that Hiyoshi is playing a weird mind game with him, getting his hopes up before crushing them. Thankfully he dismisses that before the idea can grow into anything more than momentary insanity.

"And how do you know that?" Shishido asks, opening his eyes to look at Hiyoshi.

Hiyoshi shrugs. "I just do. I'm not entirely sure even he realizes it yet. I saw a note in his bag one day and I asked him about it but he just shoved it further in his bag and didn't say another word to me all day."

"A note?"

"Yeah," Hiyoshi replies as he swings a little higher. "It wasn't addressed to anyone but I read the first line or two and thought of you."

"Was this it?" Shishido reaches into his pocket and pulls out the note, unfolding it carefully. In the two weeks that he has had it, it has become crinkled and creased with food stains tingeing it in places from where he was just a little sloppy while eating and reading. He hesitates before passing it to Hiyoshi and eyes him warily for a moment but then frowns and lets him take it.

There is silence between them again but this time Shishido is completely unsure how to take it. The note is such a personal possession and he hasn't allowed anyone else to see it, let alone touch or hold it, and now Hiyoshi is reading it. It makes his finger twitch, wanting to grab it back and make it his own again.

Hiyoshi offers it back to him without a word and Shishido hastily takes it, refolding it correctly and he pushes it deep into his pocket, where it is safe and secure once more. "Well?" he prompts, a bite of impatience in his voice.

"It's the same one," Hiyoshi admits after a pause.

Shishido grins, looking down at the ground to hide the relief and happiness he's feeling from him, wanting some privacy for a personal matter in front of a kouhai. After everything he first felt, finding out that Ohtori had written the note and that he wasn't the only person who thought it was for him actually makes him happy and something else he can't quite define but it definitely isn't anything bad.

“Can I ask you a question?” Hiyoshi asks, and Shishido glances up at him and notices that Hiyoshi is looking at him oddly.

“Yeah?” he replies warily.

“How’d you get a black eye?”

---

It takes him a week to prepare himself to talk to Ohtori about the note.

Shishido spends extra time relieving stress on the tennis courts and in his bedroom, working himself up to it. It would be embarrassing if people were to discover how preoccupied he’s being over it but he can’t bring himself to care anymore. Ohtori liking him is now so firmly lodged in his mind that it’s no longer a farfetched notion or weird alternate reality.

It’s a fact that Ohtori has a crush on him.

It’s a fact that he needs to address it.

It’s also a fact that he is nervous and scared, although he’d never admit the latter, to broach the subject with Ohtori and finally bring it all out in the open.

But it has to be done and soon. Hiyoshi keeps sending him exasperated looks after each practice and it’s quickly grating on Shishido's nerves and his senpai pride. The last thing he needs is to be lectured by his arrogant kouhai, especially when he receives knowing smirks in reply to his scowls. Personally Shishido thinks Hiyoshi will follow Atobe’s footsteps perfectly, and maybe even go further over the top – if that was even possible.

In the end it’s the smirking that finally pushes him over the edge and the desire to regain his pride that causes him to reign in his nerves and approach Ohtori. He does so after the last practice that Friday.

He can feel the back of his neck burning and his palms are sweating. He doesn’t know what is wrong with him but continues standing by Ohtori’s locker anyway, waiting for him to close it and acknowledge his presence.

But when Ohtori does that and looks down at him, smiling genuinely, Shishido finds that he is at a loss for words and stands there mouthing soundlessly like a fish. It only makes him more embarrassed and the flush spreads from his neck to his face and he finally thinks that he should just call it a blush. Because when it comes down to it, it is a blush and there is no way for him to deny it.

“Are you okay, Shishido-san?” Ohtori asks, his brow creasing and he places his hand on Shishido’s shoulder. The concern is evident and Shishido feels bad for making his kouhai worried when there really is nothing to be worried over.

“Ah…” His attempt to speak falters once more when Ohtori squeezes his shoulder and smiles encouragingly. Shishido licks his lips, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. He had wanted to reclaim his pride by finally asking Ohtori but instead he ends up humiliating himself.

“H-here.” Shishido hastily shoves the note at Ohtori and crosses his arms over his chest, refusing to look at him as he takes the note. He can hear the way the note crinkles as Ohtori unfolds it and Shishido squeezes his eyes closed, waiting for something to happen. It seems like it’s taking Ohtori forever just to open the piece of paper and Shishido gnaws on the inside of his cheek, tasting copper.

“Shishido-san…”

---

You don’t need to tell me, Ohtori. I know and I feel the same way.

P.S. You could never disappoint me.

Happy spring, cu_da_rukia!

takewing — Tue, 01 May 2007 01:34:51 GMT

Title: Untitled
Recipient's name: cu_da_rukia
Pairing: Shishido/Ohtori
Rating: PG

Happy spring, everyone!

takewing — Mon, 30 Apr 2007 22:37:53 GMT

Title: Sakura
Recipient's name: Everyone ever!
Pairing: Inui/Kaidou
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Tennis no Oujisama belongs to Konomi Takeshi-sensei.
Author's Note: Please forgive the excessive usage of 'sempai' (an honorific for someone in the class above you). I couldn't imagine this pairing without it.

Inui would calculate the chance of Kaidou falling in love with him, but he knows better than to work with no data.

Kaidou runs past the bench where Inui sits, notebook in hand. The sweat clings to his bandana and runs down one side of his face. For today, Inui has decided that the final segment of training should include twenty circuits of the park near his house. The shadows cast by the late afternoon sun are getting longer and he knows that it's time to go home. He considers ordering one more lap because he knows Kaidou would willingly push himself for one more.

"That's enough for today. Too much can be as bad as too little."

Kaidou skids to a halt, sending dirt and sand flying in the opposite direction. He pivots on one foot and heads towards Inui. His eyes burn and his lips form into a kind of half-pout.

Inui has never dealt in 'what-ifs', but one strikes him now. What if he were press his lips against Kaidou's?

"Sempai?"

Kaidou grabs a towel and wipes himself down, keeping his eyes fixed on Inui as if he were an animal that might attack. Inui's glasses hide this expression magnificently, he feels.

It's natural for them to return home at this point and no chance of them stopping along the way. A burger bar would be an otherwise perfect choice, even if Inui loathes fast food, but there's a 96% chance that they'd run into Momo. That's not the way Inui wants to start an evening. The obvious solution is for them to return home together.

His lips are dry, but this is the perfect time to ask.

Kaidou suddenly looks over Inui's shoulder and Inui counts to ten silently before turning around.

At the park gates, Fuji is talking to his sister, Yumiko. He stops, smiles and his camera whirrs as the lens zooms in on the cherry blossom buds.

Kaidou's eyes have narrowed and Inui wonders what's going through his mind. Yumiko approaches with Fuji trailing behind, still photographing the almost-blossoming trees.

Fuji catches up. "Inui. Kaidou-kun. What a surprise."

He doesn't look surprised, but Inui knows by now that there's more to it than whether his eyes are open or closed. If anything, they're a decoy.

"Fuji-sempai." Kaidou's voice has a feline growl to it that makes Inui take another look at him.

"What brings you here, Fuji?"

Fuji tilts his head slightly, with a crooked expression. "Trees look more beautiful when they're just buds. A sign of potential. Don't you think so, Inui?"

"See you at school." Inui doesn't acknowledge the implication and turns to leave. His fists clench as he calculates the percentage that Kaidou will take the chance to say his goodbyes here and head home. It's too high. Too damn high.

Fuji makes a strange sound in his throat, causing Inui to stop and turn.

"Have you seen Yuuta? My brother, I mean."

Inui shakes his head and Fuji smiles. "Thanks anyway then. See you at school."

If his nails weren't neatly trimmed they'd be drawing blood from the palms of his hands. Inui heads towards the park gates, his shoulders slumped.

Behind him, he hears the crunch of sneakers on gravel.

Inui keeps walking, his heart skipping a little each time he hears an echo of his own footsteps behind him.

As he passes the wrought iron gates that mark the entrance to the park, he pauses for a split-second (0.75, by his calculations). Kaidou is beside him once more, keeping in step with his pace.

"My mom is making Italian tonight. Do you want to come along too?"

Kaidou hesitates. "I...I really like my mom's cooking. And we might have home-made yoghurt tonight."

"It's probably not too late to ring her," suggests Inui.

He knows that Kaidou reveres his mother's cooking, so he's even more surprised when the boy pulls an old green cell from his bag.

"Sempai... Please wait for me."

The look in his eyes makes Inui wonder if Kaidou thinks he might run away. No, not a chance.

"I'll wait. Promise."

Kaidou walks to a nearby tree and starts tapping furiously on his cell phone. The conversations lasts forty-two seconds according to Inui's watch.

"She says it's okay because she hadn't started cooking. But I don't want to upset her..."

"It's okay." Inui tries to smile.

"It's not just that. I told her that because you were my sempai, you could help me study."

"Yes. We can do that after dinner."

Why does Inui feel so ill? Kikumaru and Ooishi spend more time together than they do apart and practically live at each other's houses. Echizen and Momoshiro can always be found together after school and Ooishi and Tezuka often study together. This isn't usual. But, despite his suspicions about the others, he feels his motives unique.

They keep walking until they reach Inui's house. Inui lets himself in and places his shoes neatly in the shoe rack. Kaidou does the same.

"My bedroom is this way. What homework do you have tonight?"

"Math and biology."

Inui chuckles. "Fantastic. Not my best subjects, but pretty close."

Inui's bedroom is compact with a black, grey and white colour scheme. The carefully-made bed is in the centre, but the room is built around the computer desk in the corner. Like the bedroom, it's small, but that's because it's only a few months old, not a reflection of its processing capacity.

It's then that Inui realises that he only has one chair. He frowns. How unlike him not to account for that. "You can sit on the chair," he says.

Kaidou is already sitting on the bed. He blushes and gets up immediately, moving over to the computer chair.

Inui can't quite put a name to this feeling, but suspects it's something akin to panic. "I mean... I wanted to show you a computer program I wrote."

"Oh." Kaidou's flushed face returns to a more normal colour.

Inui boots up the PC, counting the seconds as it loads. Black screen, then the logo, then another black screen followed by a black screen of a differing shade. And he's in. Inui leans over Kaidou's shoulder to double-click on an icon of a single cherry blossom. A map of Japan pops up with tiny images of cherry blossom petals spread over Okinawa and the southern parts of the country. Tokyo is barely touched so far.

"They said on the news that the blooms should have withered already, with the height of the season falling on the fifteenth due to the mild winter. Fools!" Inui laughs and laughs.

The other boy is sitting there, unmoving. His eyes are wide and slightly damp. Inui stops abruptly.

"That's amazing, sempai! Your program predicted it correctly!"

Maybe it's Inui's imagination, but he thinks Kaidou leaned against his arm slightly more when he said that. If only he had a pressure gauge to check his hypothesis.

"Well, so far." He's never been one for modesty, but it seems appropriate this time. "I think dinner might be ready soon."

"I haven't even started on my homework," Kaidou murmurs, as if he's trying not to complain too loudly.

"I have a spare set of pyjamas," Inui says hopefully. "Can you stay the night?"

***

Inui feels Kaidou jerk awake next to him. He can feel soft vibrations as the other boy rubs his eyes and stretches like a cat.

"Mmm... sempai."

He presses against Inui more insistently now, and the vibrations have moved lower in the bed and more rhythmic.

Inui stretches and yawns loudly. Kaidou jumps.

"I... I..."

It looks as if Kaidou might cry. Inui can't have that.

"I was just asleep... is there something wrong?"

Kaidou shakes his head, unable to meet Inui's gaze. "No... I didn't realise... I forgot I wasn't at home."

"Dreams, huh?"

Kaidou nods, but Inui doesn't think it means anything.

"We should go to Ueno Park today. It's the perfect day for blossom."

Kaidou nods, still unable to look Inui in the eye.

***

Blue sheets cover the ground in Ueno Park. TV crews and photographers gather under cherry trees and surround beautiful men and women who are modeling anything from lipstick to green tea. Each group is accompanied by someone with a stiff sheet of cardboard who keeps waving it to make the petals float better than they do naturally.

People sit drinking Asahi beer and the rubbish piles up beside them.

"It's not how I imagined it would be." Kaidou kicks a discarded lunchbox to the side. "And all the good spots are taken."

"You've never been to Ueno before?" asks Inui.

Kaidou shakes his head. "I always went to the park near my home with my mum and dad. I've seen it on TV though..."

...With someone off-screen making the petals fly through the air and clever angles to hide the mounds of rubbish, thinks Inui. In truth, he's never been here before either, although he's seen it every year on TV too.

A deserted park lined with cherry trees with two lovers holding hands underneath...

He feels cheated.

"Let's go for a walk," suggests Kaidou.

Inui feels warmer inside. Kaidou took the initiative.

"Don't you like exercise... sempai?"

Kaidou has a look about him that Inui has never seen before. Something has changed. Before he can think much more about it, Kaidou is running ahead of him. Dodging the crowds is part of the game. Past the Tokyo Metro Festival Hall, past Shinbazu no Ike Pond and they stop near where they started, the Tokyo National Museum.

"Poor Sakura-chan. You really are weeping, aren't you?"

Inui and Kaidou's heads turn to the sound in unison. A boy stands behind a cascade of weeping cherry blossoms. His voice is soft, but unmistakable. If Inui was in any doubt, he can just see his trainers are by Nike, a brand Fuji loves.

"Really? Well, I'll kill them all for you. They'll never throw trash at your roots again." Fuji chuckles softly. "What was that? No, I was only joking. Don't worry, Sakura-chan."

There's a whirr of a digital camera; Fuji parts the drooping branches and emerges from underneath the tree.

"Inui? Kaidou? Again?"

"On the other side of Tokyo too. What a coincidence." Inui pushes his glasses further up the ridge of his nose.

"This place is famous." Fuji's eyes narrow and then he returns to his familiar smile.

"Absolutely correct, of course." Inui can recite visitor figures for cherry blossom viewing season last year. That should have given away the fact that this place had the potential to become ugly at short notice. He steals a quick glance at Kaidou to check that he's not too uncomfortable with the strange atmosphere that seems to have developed.

"Well. Looks like spring has finally come."

Fuji stalks past them and his posture reminds Inui of when the other boy has played Tezuka or Ryouma in the past.

"Spring has come... for so many people. Isn't that nice?"

Inui watches Fuji leave and ducks under the tree. It's sheltered from the rest of the park and the falling blossoms allow them to see out with no one else able to see in. Trust Fuji.

He takes a seat at the base of the trunk and looks up at the tree. "Cherry blossom...is meant to symbolise the fleeting lives of the samurai and of youth."

Kaidou throws himself down beside Inui and grabs his hand. "I swear I'll do better at tennis!"

"I didn't mean that..." Inui begins, but his voice is drowned out by another familiar voice.

Mizuki...? That would explain a lot.

"They put those dratted blue sheets down on our tennis court! It's an outrage, Yuuta! An outrage!"

They're walking so close to their tree, but Inui and Kaidou can't really be seen unless someone looks closely.

Yuuta is flushed and Mizuki, despite his raised voice, has a saunter that Inui can only describe as 'smug'. Both are wearing their tennis uniforms, but their polo shirts are unbuttoned as far as they can go. Mizuki's flies are undone too, but Inui feels no need to draw his attention to that.

Kaidou hasn't noticed the obvious flaws in their appearance. Instead he's looking at Mizuki with some kind of awe.

Kaidou still hasn't let go of Inui's hand yet. Inui takes off his glasses with his free hand and faces him. He knows it's irrational, but he doesn't want that boy looking like that at anyone else.

"Kaidou..." His voice trembles.

Kaidou smiles shyly, but doesn't meet his eyes.

"Look at me." Inui usually wields his deeper voice to his advantage, but it seems more of a squeak now, as if there's no depth to it.

Kaidou looks.

"They're... green."

"Did you wonder?" Of course he did, Inui thinks. He wouldn't say that otherwise.

"Sempai..." Kaidou leans forwards to kiss Inui, their noses bumping together until Kaidou finds the right angle.

Again, Inui feels a shot of warmth run like lightning to his stomach. Letting Kaidou into his home, really letting him into his life... it changed him. He couldn't imagine this even yesterday.

Kaidou's mouth is really warm, he notices. Suddenly, Kaidou is aiming much lower.

Now, Inui doesn't need to worry, since he knows he's above average. He has the spreadsheets on his computer to prove it. And yet he still flinches when Kaidou's warm hands brush up against his skin. His hands are rough where they grip the tennis racket and Inui tries not to notice whether that's Eastern Grip or the Western Grip.

He leans forward, bringing his arms entirely around Kaidou. This is what he needs right now. He wants to truly love him, before it becomes too complicated

"Kaoru..." he murmurs, liking the way it feels on his tongue. It feels different and a little strange.

Kaidou almost instinctively curls up, like a cat. As if it were planned, two petals fall on his cheek, matching the pale pink of his blush.

Nature has some advantages, thinks Inui.

Happy spring, iverin!

takewing — Mon, 30 Apr 2007 21:12:00 GMT

Title: Day by Day
Recipient: iverin
Pairing(s): AtoJi with appearances by Oshitari and hints of YuuGaku
Disclaimer: Not mine blah blah...
Warnings: m/m relationships, mild language, sap, drama
Author's Notes: Written for iverin for spring_fluff. I hope that I was able to capture at least a little of what you were looking for.

(Happy spring, iverin!)

Happy Spring demonoflight!

nickelodeon — Mon, 30 Apr 2007 12:29:07 GMT

Title: A Winter's Tale Of Clichés
Recipient: demonoflight
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Atobe Keigo/Tezuka Kunimitsu
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis does not belong to me, but man, I wish it did.
Warnings: Angsty fluff. Self-touching.
Author's Notes: demonoflight, I really hope you enjoy reading this! I'd like to thank my betas: M-sama and J-sama, you guys are fabulous. I had a lot of fun writing this and without a doubt, I'm proud of this fic. :) I'm thrilled to have over 12,000 words to share with demonoflight and everyone else.

( Happy Spring demonoflight! )

Happy spring, worblehat!

takewing — Mon, 30 Apr 2007 02:36:24 GMT

Title: Leaps of Logic
Recipient's Name: worblehat
Disclaimer: Definitely not mine; I just borrow the boys!
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Fuji/Saeki (brief mention of MomoKai)
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy this, worblehat. I had a lot of fun writing it, mostly because this pairing isn't normally one I'd write.

Leaps of Logic

The first thing that Fuji wanted to do when Tezuka told them that he was going to Germany was to call Yuuta. He didn’t want to do it just to annoy Yuuta, or to find out how his tennis was going ot whether he was still hanging around with that strange manager; he simply wanted to ring someone, tell them what had happened, and have them say, “I’m sorry,” upon hearing it.

However, Yuuta currently wasn’t talking to him (apparently because Fuji had eaten the last of the dumplings when Yuuta had come home, or so his sister had said) and he really wasn’t the person to say “I’m sorry” when he heard bad news. Fuji knew this, of course, since his brother hadn’t changed that much since going to St. Rudolph’s, but there were times when he desperately wished Yuuta was that kind of person. But he wasn’t.

So Fuji called Saeki instead.

He felt strangely calm as he dialled the familiar number, the same part-daze, part-trance that had come over him after he’d finally made sense of what Tezuka had said. Maybe it was shock, but Fuji didn’t generally suffer from shock and also had an extremely good tendency for taking things in his stride.

“Hello,” he said when Saeki picked up, his voice dreamy and soft. “Tezuka is going to Germany for rehabilitation.”

There was a pause, and then Saeki said, “Crap,” in a dismayed tone.

It was close enough.

“For how long?” Saeki asked, and Fuji could hear him shift to a more comfortable position on the bed.

“For as long as it takes, I suppose,” Fuji replied, staring over at the cacti lined up on his windowsill. “We were all told today.”

He knew that telling Saeki all of this could technically be considered giving a rival team information they shouldn’t know, but there was also a significant difference between tattling to the opposition and ringing a friend after being given some really bad news. So that was why Saeki didn’t press him for any more details after that, instead asking, “He didn’t tell you beforehand?”

“No,” Fuji said. “Or Oishi.” His lips thinned in agreement when Saeki winced.

“This is bad,” Saeki mutters, “really bad.”

“Seigaku will survive,” Fuji told him firmly, and he was surprised at the conviction he heard in his voice.

Saeki wisely didn’t say anything, though Fuji knew what was probably running through his head anyway: Seigaku’s terrible record from the past few years and how Tezuka really was the reason they had managed to scrape up further in the past two years, even with Fuji joining him as a Regular last year.

Pillar of Seigaku, indeed. Fuji rubbed his forehead and gritted his teeth at the headache beginning to form.

Instead of saying any of the number of things curently running around in his head, many of which should never be said, Fuji asked instead, “When are you going to visit us again?”

“I was thinking of coming down soon, actually,” Saeki said. “I wasn’t sure with Yuuta in a different school now.”

“I’ll tell him,” Fuji assured him, shifting the phone to a more comfortable position against his cheek. “he’ll be home if you’re here, too.” The sun was beginning to finally sink towards the horizon, twilight creeping in from the east. Lights were beginning to flicker on in the nearby houses.

“Are you sure he’ll even answer the phone if you’re calling?” Saeki asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. Though Fuji’s knuckles whitened temporarily as he gripped the phone a little bit harder than he should, he nevertheless laughed. This was the problem with having such an old friend: they knew every weak spot, so well that they could exploit them without even realising it.

“Maybe it’s a good thing Tezuka won’t be around when we play you,” Fuji remarked after a moment.

Saeki paused, and then said, “Why?” He was naturally suspicious of the suddenly pleasant tone in Fuji’s voice.

“I can only imagine what Tezuka would do to your freshman captain,” Fuji finished smoothly, and then smiled as Saeki began to sputter.

Fuji laughed and said goodbye, adding that he would see Saeki soon. He was still sputtering when Fuji hung up.

^.^.^.^

Playing Rokkaku wasn’t at all like coming home because Seigaku was Fuji’s home. But it was familiar, if only because Saeki was there.

There was no triumph or bitterness when Seigaku beat them, merely relief.

We can still do this, Fuji thought as he packed his racquet away, This is not the end, even if Tezuka isn’t here right now. His stomach almost dropped as a weight unexpectantly lifted from his shoulders.

Rokkaku were graceful losers, their freshman captain latching onto Echizen like he was his new best friend, much to Echizen’s chagrin and everyone else’s amusement. Saeki sidled up to Fuji afterwards and told him that he’d be coming down the following week.

“Oh, good,” Fuji said, pleased, and smiled. “I’ll tell Yuuta.”

“Is this going to be another instance of having him yell at me because he lost again?” Saeki drawled as he grinned.

Fuji sniffed. “He’s become a lot stronger.”

“Yes,” Saeki agreed and nudged him, still grinning. “It’s lucky we’re not all like you, or no one would grow stronger at all.”

Fuji raised an eyebrow, but laughed after a moment. “I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.”

“You do that,” Saeki agreed, running a hand through his hair and then turned to the call of: “Saeki-senpai!”

“Your captain is calling you,” Fuji said dryly.

“Oi,” Saeki muttered, then smiled. “See you soon,” he added over his shoulder, waving as he went to join his teammates,

“Aa,” Fuji replied softly, watching them get on the bus until Oishi began to call him; it was time to go home.

^.^.^.^

It was strange, but Fuji only realised that he had missed Saeki when he was at their kitchen table, eating his mother’s cooking and looking like every bite was the best thing he had ever tasted.

That said, it was also very likely that Fuji’s mother had also missed Saeki as well, if only for that very reason.

“What?”Saeki asked when they were up in Fuji’s room, looking up from his examination of Fuji’s cacti. “I missed your mother’s cooking; it’s ten times better than my mother’s cooking.”

Fuji rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

“Bet you’d say the same about my mother’s cooking,” Saeki said, looking like he was trying to resist the temptation to poke one of the cacti.

“Not a chance,” Fuji said mmediately, and sighed as Saeki grinned at him over his shoulder.

“Case in point,” Saeki said, holding up a hand in triumph.

“Fine,” Fuji admitted. “Your mother’s cooking is hopeless.”

“Hey!” Saeki exclaimed, whirling around and looking momentarily outraged, his eyes narrowing at the innocent look on Fuji’s face. “Where’s Yuuta, anyway? You said you’d call him.”

“He should have been home by now,” Fuji said, and knew he wasn’t hiding his worry very well when Saeki’s expression softened. Thankfully, anything that could have been said was stopped by the door opening and slamming shut.

“I’m home!” Yuuta yelled, and Fuji sighed, his shoulders immediately relaxing.

Saeki shook his head. “Sometimes I’m really glad I don’t have a brother,” he muttered.

After a few minutes, they could hear Yuuta’s footsteps pounding on the stairs and then he knocked and poked his head around the door. “Hey,” he said.

Fuji’s face lit up. “Yuuta,” he said.

“Hey,” Saeki said, lifting a hand in greeting.

“Is it too late to play a game?” Yuuta asked, and Fuji glanced at Saeki just in time to see him bite his lip to stop himself from grinning. It was nice to see that Yuuta’s one-track mind hadn’t changed at all since he’d left home.

“Yes,” Fuji said. “I think all the courts are closed by now.” It wasn’t technically true; Saeki remembered one or two that he and Fuji had snuck out to when they were younger, but Yuuta didn’t need to know that.

“Relax,” Saeki said, winking, “I’m staying over for the night. You can play me tomorrow.”

Yuuta snorted. “You’re going down, Saeki.”

Saeki laughed. “We’ll see.”

“Yuuta!” his mother called from below. “Your dinner is ready now!”

“Coming!” Yuuta yelled.

“Come up when you’re finished,” Fuji said, and Yuuta nodded, waving at them as he disappeared back around the door. His footsteps thumped down the stairs.

There was a pause, and then Fuji sank down onto his bed. He sighed, and then murmured, “I wish he still said things like that to me.”

Saeki frowned. “Like what?” he asked, sitting down beside him.

“Like ‘you’re going down’,” Fuji explained, leaning back until he was lying fully down on his bed. “He doesn’t say things like that to me anymore. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Not really,” Saeki replied, gazing down at him. “You’re... well, you, Fuji,” he added, laying down beside him, “and Yuuta’s been playing you for a long time.” Fuji didn’t reply and they lay in silence for a few minutes, just breathing. They were lying so close together that Fuji could feel the heat from Saeki where their arms were pressed together.

“He’s been getting so strong lately,” Fuji whispered.

“But not strong enough?” Saeki asked after another pause.

“Not strong enough against me,” Fuji continued, nodding. He sighed.

“Hey,” Saeki said, trying to lighten the mood. “If my sister was a genius and beat me at school all the time, I’d be pretty annoyed too.”

“...Saeki, your sister is a genius. She’s done better in school than you since you were kids,” Fuji replied at last, staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Yeah, but you don’t see me whining, do you?” Saeki replied, gesturing seriously with a finger. “And she definitely doesn’t.”

Fuji contemplated turning this serious and pointing out that there was a vast difference between tennis and studying, but instead he laughed. Saeki sighed.

“If you want, we can do something that I can definitely beat you in,” Saeki suggested, grinning broadly.

Fuji sat up and looked at him, his eyes gleaming. “Oh, really?” he asked.

“Yup,” Saeki said. “We never did finish that video game, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” Fuji said, grinning as well. He laughed. “You’re on.”

Later, just before Yuuta joined them to watch, just after Saeki had delivered a critical hit to Fuji’s character, Fuji said quietly, “Thanks for coming down.”

Grimacing as Fuji retaliated onscreen, Saeki waited another few moments before replying, “No problem. Just return the favour?”

Then Yuuta flopped down beside them and told Saeki in a grave and very serious tone to kick Fuji’s ass.

Saeki did.

^.^.^.^

“Do you consider me a rival?” Fuji asked later that night, when they were sitting on his bed, eating snacks and watching a film neither of them were particularly interested in.

Saeki paused in the middle of eating a stick of Pocky, turning to look at Fuji with it still partially sticking out of his mouth. He blinked, finished crunching and swallowed, and then said, “What brought this on?”

“Just wondering,” Fuji said.

Saeki raised an eyebrow and then paused, taping a new Pocky stick against his lips as he thought. “I guess so,” he said at last, “in a way.”

“Oh?” Fuji asked, staring down at his ice-cream as he stirred it into melted goo.

“I mean, there’s only so far I can consider you a rival because of the obvious reasons. I’ll never catch up to you completely because you’re too far ahead, but I look towards you like... I don’t know, someone to aim for in the general sense? It’d be like thinking of Tezuka as my rival.”

“Echizen considers Tezuka to be his rival,” Fuji remarked, licking the back of his spoon thoughtfully.

Saeki snorted. “Yeah, well, Echizen has the Samurai for a father and could probably hit a ball before he could walk or talk. There’s rivals and then there’s rivals. We’re both out of their league.” Fuji bristled and Saeki rolled his eyes. “Be serious, Fuji, we are. You can’t say otherwise.” Fuji sighed, stirring his ice-cream again, and then reluctantly smiled when Saeki leaned over to repeatedly poke his arm.

They fell asleep before the film ended, though they tried their best to stay up until the early hours of the morning. Technically, Saeki also had the spare futon laid out by Fuji’s bed, but they were asleep before he could think of climbing into it.

They woke up the next morning sprawled on top of Fuji’s bed, the covers half-tangled around them. Saeki grinned and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly when Fuji rubbed his eyes and glared at him; he’d taken as much of the blankets as possible.

They were almost finished eating breakfast (Fuji trying to ignore the expressions of rapture on Saeki’s face), when Yuuta came into the kitchen and asked them when they were going to the courts, bouncing with impatience even as his mother told him to sit down and eat.

It was a perfect day for tennis, clear and cool. The weather was a lot better than the last time Saeki had visited, but the outcome didn’t change: Yuuta was still left sweating and scowling at the end of the game, glaring at Saeki.

Saeki smiled crookedly. “You lasted a lot longer, this time,” he pointed out.

Yuuta’s scowl deepened.

“Food bribery?” Saeki asked.

Yuuta looked like he was contemplating flinging his racquet at Saeki’s head.

“Yuuta,” Fuji said, smiling.

Something flickered across Yuuta’s face, too quickly for either of them to recognise, as he turned to look at his brother. There was a long pause and then he said, “Play a game with me, aniki.”

Saeki stared. Fuji went very still, his eyes opening just a little. He took several breaths and then said, “All right.”

It ended very quickly. Fuji didn’t go all out on him.

Yuuta didn’t talk to them for the rest of the day.

^.^.^.^

Saeki didn’t ring him until he’d been home for around six hours. Then, at almost three in the morning, he finally picked up the phone and dialled.

“You’re an idiot,” he said when Fuji picked up.

There was silence for several moments, before Fuji sighed and said quietly, “I know.”

There wasn’t much else to say after that.

^.^.^.^

They were all there when Rokkaku played Higa in the opening of the Nationals, so Fuji watched as Saeki lost to... what was his bame again? – oh, yes, Kai. Fuji nodded as Saeki grinned and thanked them for supporting him and the others, giving them a thumbs-up before he rushed to see how their coach was doing. As he watched him go, Fuji swore then that Higa would not get past them in the Nationals.

They didn’t.

Later, when the Nationals were over and Seigaku came out triumphant, Fuji kept his promise and took the train to Chiba. Saeki was waiting for him and grinned when Fuji walked up.

“Hey, National Champion,” Saeki teased him, his grin widening.

Fuji rolled his eyes. “Don’t be silly,” he said.

Saeki laughed. “Come on.”

Saeki’s mother welcomed Fuji with a wide smile, telling him that dinner would be ready soon and not to get deeply involved in any video game. Saeki muttered, rolled his eyes, and made exaggerated hand motions behind his mother’s back for Fuji to follow him up to his room. Fuji did, trying not to laugh.

“I’m glad the Nationals are finally over,” Fuji remarked as he lay on Saeki’s bed, gazing up at the ceiling. “I think everyone was starting to go crazy from the stress.”

“I could believe that,” Saeki remarked, looking up from where he was trying to untangle the cords of his Playstation. “Playing against Rikkai didn’t exactly look fun.”

Fuji pursed his lips, paused for a moment, and then said, “It was... difficult. There’s no point in denying it. But it was fun, in a way. Yukimura and his team... they understand tennis in a way that few other teams do. Playing Hyoutei is more fun, though.”

“You just say that because Oshitari and you try to out-Higuma-Otoshi each other,” Saeki drawled, and ducked the pillow that Fuji lobed at him.

“It’s good practise. Few others can play like Oshitari,” Fuji said, trying to hold onto his dignity and failing. “It’s nothing petty.”

“Of course,” Saeki said, and manged to hold a straight face for precisely ten seconds before falling back onto the floor with laughter.

Thankfully, Saeki’s mother called them for dinner right then.

Fuji noticed that Saeki seemed distracted throughout dinner, lost in his thoughts and hearing nothing that anyone said to him. From the way his family glanced at each other, though, it seemed that this wasn’t unusual behaviour for Saeki. Fuji decided to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything, and tried his best to pay attention to Saeki’s sister as she told him about the latest topic she was interested in. While he could be considered a genius in tennis, it didn’t bring over that well into schoolwork.

Fuji kept quiet until he and Saeki were back in his room with snacks, watching Saeki set up the game. When they were in the middle of a fight, he finally said, “What’s wrong?”

Saeki blinked and then scowled as Fuji chose that moment to lay two rather heavy kicks at his character, sending him sprawling. “Cheater,” he said, tapping buttons furiously, and then added, “Nothing’s wrong. What makes you think there is?”

“You’re not yourself,” Fuji said. “You haven’t been for a while, not in your emails or whenever we’ve talked on the phone, but I didn’t realise it was this bad until today.”

There was a long pause, before Saeki finally sighed, played until Fuji had kicked his ass, and then said, “Three weeks ago, just after we lost to Higa and were trying to get back to normal, I walked in on Bane and Davide in the clubhouse.”

Fuji blinked, paused, blinked again, and then said, “When you say ‘walked in on’...”

“I mean, as in kissing and some bit of groping,” Saeki replied flatly, keeping his eyes firmly on the ‘game over’ sign on the television screen. “It was... uncomfortable.”

Fuji smiled. “I bet.” He paused again, and then said, “You obviously haven’t heard about Momo and Kaidoh, then.”

“No, I haven’t,” Saeki said, and then added, “Wait, what?”

Fuji laughed, before leaning over and kissing Saeki. It was the briefest brush of lips, but it might as well have been a full-on (with tongues) type of kiss from Saeki’s expression when Fuji pulled back.

“Oh,” Saeki breathed. He swallowed. “I think I’m glad that your leaps of logic are better than mine.”

“Yes,” Fuji said, keeping a straight face, “or you’d still be wondering whether to kiss me or not by the time we were in high school.”

Saeki glared at him and Fuji laughed again, but Saeki soon made it so that he was making a different sort of noise entirely.

Happy spring, kessie!

takewing — Sun, 29 Apr 2007 22:00:45 GMT

Title: Method Acting
Recipient's name: kessie
Rating: PG
Pairing: Tezuka/Atobe
Disclaimer: (Standard, yo. Nothing special.)
Warnings: None
Author's or Artist's notes: Happy spring_fluff, kessie! Thank you so much to my wonderful beta, and to the several other people who were also willing to read this over for me. <3

(Happy spring, kessie!)

Happy spring shinichirouwaya!

nickelodeon — Sun, 29 Apr 2007 19:41:52 GMT

Title: Damage Control
Recipient's name: shinichirouwaya
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Momoshiro/Kaidoh
A/N: Fitting the request for something built on manga canon was a fun challenge, so thank you for that! Some quotes lifted directly from manga translations.

***

It was late, almost dinnertime, and Momoshiro was alone in the clubhouse. This had never happened before, mostly because Oishi-senpai always waited for stragglers before locking up, but Oishi-senpai also had owed Eiji-senpai ice cream because Eiji-senpai lent him lunch money the day before and it turned out that Eiji-senpai was the world's most demanding debt collector. In the end, Oishi-senpai had handed over his keys because he knew Momo was totally responsible ("Please don't break anything or shame the club in any way!"), though Inui-senpai's twelve page essay about probable future club captains and co-captains also helped. Momo thought the thirty-two percent chance of being captain over Kaidoh had to be low-balling it a little, but since it worked in his favor, he hadn't said anything. Still, Inui-senpai played favorites too much.

Momo leaned over a sink and squinted at his reflection in the mirror. He had a pimple on his forehead and his bandages were peeling. He decided to leave the zit alone because it wasn't the hurty kind yet, but the bandages needed changing. That really sucked because now Momo had to decide if he was going to pull them off carefully to minimize damage or pull them off fast so he could get it over with.

He got the first aid kit off the wall and went back to the mirror, thoughtfully flicking the edges of the plaster on his cheek. Both choices were painful, though going slow was less painful. Momo took antiseptic ointment, gauze, and medical tape out of the box and stacked them on the sink. But going slow took longer and Eiji-senpai told him that if he didn't pull off his bandages superfast then he was a big girl. And Momo didn't want to be a big girl.

"Be a man!" he shouted at himself, gripping the edge of the bandage.

"Yelling isn't going to help you with that," someone growled.

At that, Momoshiro gave a very manly shriek and whirled around, ripping the bandage right off his face and making his decision for him. Kaidoh shoved him with his shoulder and stole some of Momo's precious mirror space.

"How'd you get in here?" Momo asked, shoving back. He ran two fingers over the scrape on his face, still raw even days after their match with Rikkai.

"The door was open." Kaidoh slapped Momo's hand away. "Don't touch it. That's why it doesn't heal."

"I'll do what I want," Momoshiro mumbled. There were no scissors in the first aid kit and it was hard ripping tape with his teeth.

"That's not sanitary," Kaidoh said, pulling his bandana off his head and running his fingers through his hair. Momo raised his eyebrows. Kaidoh's hair looked weird, it was parted differently or something, but that was dumb because it wasn't like Momo ever went around looking at Kaidoh's hair.

"Your face isn't sanitary!"

Kaidoh hissed and grabbed the tape out of Momo's hands. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Hey," Momo protested, though for the tape theft or because Kaidoh couldn't appreciate a genius insult he didn't know.

"Idiot." Kaidoh reached into his tennis bag and pulled out a leather case with needles, thread, nail clippers, and tiny little scissors. Momo still wasn't convinced that pulling bandages off slowly was girly, but that kit sure as hell was. Handy though, he guessed, as Kaidoh cut the tape into neat strips and lined them up on the edge of the sink. "Hold still," Kaidoh ordered.

Momo rolled his eyes, but let Kaidoh smear on the ointment and press the gauze to his face, pressing tape to the edges. He scrutinized himself in the mirror and decided that the job was passable, probably better than anything he could do to himself.

"Thanks," Momoshiro said grudgingly.

Kaidoh put the first aid kit back on the wall. "Whatever."

"Okay, now do my nose," Momo said.

"Do your own nose, it's just a band-aid," Kaidoh replied. He paused, eyes flicking down to Momoshiro's legs. "Is your knee okay?"

Momo grinned and leaned against the wall. "It's so nice when you worry about me," he said, and Kaidoh glared. "Calm down, mamushi. It's fine, just scraped up." His knee barely stung at all anymore, actually. Inui-senpai had told him that was because Kaidoh put pressure on it right away.

Kaidoh nodded and went back to messing with his hair. He tried to part it differently, but it just flopped back the way it was. Hah! Momo knew it. "Hey, where were you today?" asked Momoshiro. "We were all supposed to watch the ABC Open."

"I did watch it," Kaidoh said. "I went to it."

"You got tickets and you didn't invite me?"

"Why would I do that?"

He shoved Kaidoh's shoulder again. "That's mean."

Kaidoh grunted and leaned over the sink, peering at himself in the mirror again. He tilted his chin up, and Momoshiro wondered what the hell he was doing. Did Kaidoh examine his face from different angles to see what light made him look the scariest? That was dumb. Maybe Momo should start doing that, too. But then he spotted a bruise on Kaidoh's face, right under his eye.

Had Kaidoh been fighting without him? Momo wrinkled up his forehead. Well, whatever. Like that mattered. Kaidoh pressed his fingers to his bruise and winced.

"So, if you went to the open, how the hell did you get that? Did you get hit with a stray tennis ball?" Momoshiro laughed. "Please say yes!"

Kaidoh rolled his eyes and winced again. "Of course not."

"What are you doing here anyway? You could have gone home."

"Inui-senpai left something for me in my locker," Kaidoh said, finally looking at Momo instead of his own stupid face, "and I played a match so I need to use the shower."

"Who the hell were you playing tennis with? Everyone was here."

"Everyone in the world who plays tennis wasn't here, Momoshiro." Kaidoh grabbed a towel from the clean stack and headed toward the showers. "Are you stupider than usual?"

"Your mom is stupider than usual!" Momo called after Kaidoh's retreating back, but his witty retort was drowned out by Kaidoh turning on the water. He'd have to remember it for next time, even though Momoshiro really liked Kaidoh's mom, especially when she packed extra red bean mochi into Kaidoh's bento.

Momo shrugged to himself and changed the little bandage across the bridge of his nose. He didn't really want Kaidoh's mom to be stupid, so what he'd been saying was harmless. But that didn't explain The Mystery of Kaidoh's Bruise. Maybe Kaidoh led a double life. Momo's grandmother was always watching stories about men with secret wives and kids in Hokkaido or Kyuushu or even other countries. Maybe Kaidoh had a secret family, though Momo guessed that was pretty unlikely since he was fourteen.

Maybe Kaidoh was a spy! Though that jerk wasn't cool enough to be a spy, not by half. Momo's stomach rumbled. He looked at his watch, noting it was even closer to dinnertime now. He pumped his fist into the air triumphantly, but stopped suddenly halfway. Momo let his arm drop back down to his side.

He'd promised Oishi-senpai that he'd lock up and Kaidoh didn't have keys, so Momo would have to wait for him, and anyone who carried around a sewing kit everywhere probably took really long showers. Momo cursed. That's what he got for dawdling and demonstrating proper hygiene.

"Hurry up in there, girl spy!" he shouted into the shower room.

"What did you call me?" Kaidoh yelled back.

Momo didn't answer. He threw himself onto a bench and covered his face with a towel. Who'd want to be in Kaidoh's secret family anyway?

***

At practice the next day, Momo walked up to Kaidoh and pushed his chin up to the sun. The bruise was fading, turning a sickening yellow-green. "Your face is green. Are you really turning into a snake?"

Kaidoh pushed Momo's hand away.

Inui-senpai looked up from his notebook. "When a snake molts, it rubs its head against a hard object and the skin comes off all in one piece." Momo and Kaidoh both stared at him, but he was already writing again.

"I'm not a snake. I'm not molting," Kaidoh said and picked up his racquet. "Don't be stupid."

"Where'd you get that bruise?"

"I told you, I played a match yesterday." Kaidoh threw Momo two balls and shoved one into his pocket.

"Yeah, but with who? Everybody was here."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Kaidoh asked.

Momo pointed his racquet at Kaidoh. "Because there are only eight days to nationals and you should want to be with your own team! We were team building to form unbreakable lifetime bonds, or whatever Oishi-senpai said. And no one knew where you were!"

"I knew where he was," Inui-senpai interrupted.

That didn't count. It was practically Inui's after-school job to know where Kaidoh was. And his at-school job, too, really, but saying that would be disrespectful, so instead Momo glared at Kaidoh some more.

Kaidoh rolled his eyes. "If it'll shut you up, it was some guys from Murigaoka and that Laser Beam guy from Rikkai Dai."

"You played them all at once?!" Momo squawked. Man, he'd taken on that Gyokurin doubles team on his own a couple of times, but they weren't anywhere near national level. Playing Murigaoka and Rikkai would be like playing Fuji-senpai, Taka-san, and Oishi-senpai all by himself. But if Kaidoh could do it, so could Momo. Maybe he'd challenge them all.

"Not all at once. Yagyuu-san and I played doubles."

Inui-senpai's eyebrows were way above his glasses. "Murigaoka? I hope you didn't show them any of your specialty moves."

Kaidoh hissed. "I'm not stupid, senpai. Yagyuu-san and I switched clothes."

"What?" Momoshiro and Inui-senpai said at once.

Kaidoh shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal. The Murigaoka guys filmed everything, so we switched places. It was an easy win. I could do the Laser Beam with more practice."

Inui-senpai's forehead scrunched up. He went back to scribbling, but he wrote about a million times faster than before. Momo, however, was delighted. "So you did get hit in the face with a ball!"

"No," Kaidoh said. "One of them punched me. That's how I got the bruise. I punched him, too."

Fuji-senpai appeared at Kaidoh's side, hand on his shoulder. "You could have gotten suspended from the nationals for that." He was smiling.

Kaidoh hissed. "I know. I'm sorry."

Momoshiro waited for more explanation, wanting to know how Kaidoh went from watching to doubles to boxing, but none ever came. Typical viper. That guy had no conversational skills, none at all.

"Are we playing now?" Momoshiro asked.

"When my partner shows up," Fuji-senpai said.

Eiji-senpai bounded up to everyone, his face flushed with excitement. "Ochibi has a girlfriend!" he declared.

"And here he is." Fuji-senpai chuckled. "Are you giving them privacy?"

Eiji-senpai twirled his racquet over his wrist. "Yeah, privacy to talk about tennis. He's broken, I think."

"He's twelve," Fuji-senpai said.

Momo rolled his eyes. Eiji-senpai was right; Echizen was stunted emotionally or something. Not to mention short.

Inui unzipped his jacket and threw it on a nearby bench. "It's ninety-one percent certain that the girl is collecting data for another team, though whether her interest in Echizen is genuine is undetermined." He climbed into the referee's chair, notebook spread out over his lap.

"Doesn't matter, Inui-senpai," Momo called up, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Echizen is hopeless. If it were me--"

Eiji-senpai cracked up. "Momo's suddenly the girl expert. Tell me all about your latest conquests!"

A bubble of anger rose up in Momo's chest. Of course he had experience with girls, tons! There was... And then-- what about... Well, he watched a lot of television, that had to count.

Momoshiro opened his mouth. "Um--"

"Let's play already," Kaidoh growled. Speaking of emotionally stunted.

Momo shoved the side of Kaidoh's head, ignoring the irritated noise Kaidoh made as he went to take his place at the net. He picked at the tape on his cheek.

"Don't pick that, it won't heal," Kaidoh said.

"Shut up," Momo shouted, annoyed. Why couldn't the stupid snake be normal for once? Getting into fights with other teams was one thing, but what if what Fuji-senpai had said had happened and Kaidoh couldn't play at nationals? Didn't he ever think about anything other than himself? Selfish, so selfish.

Kaidoh stretched up to serve, and Momo picked at his cheek some more. It itched.

***

"Takeshi, you're home!"

Momoshiro had barely taken off his shoes when one of his little sisters grabbed his hand and dragged him into her room. It was kind of ridiculous the way they both thought Momo was there to cater to their whims, especially when he was tired out after a hard practice, but it was also impossible to fight off a six-year-old girl determined to play Barbies when her older sister wasn't home from her violin lesson yet.

"Here," Mika-chan said, shoving a Ken doll into Momo's hands. "This is you."

"That looks nothing like me," Momo said.

"Yes it does, onii-chan!"

The doll's hair was plastic and not nearly high enough. His eyes were too close together, and he was wearing purple capri pants. Momo sat on the floor anyway and watched as Mika set up the Dream House and the stables. There were at least four girl dolls to every boy doll, and that ratio wasn't bad, not bad at all.

"So, what am I, the dad? The world famous tennis star visiting his glamorous model girlfriends?"

Mika shook her head. "You're the hairdresser." She shoved a tiny comb into Momo's hand. "And this is your girlfriend!"

The 'girlfriend' was another Ken doll, wearing a tank top and white shorts.

"What?!" Momo yelled. "No!" He threw down the dolls and comb. How did a six-year-old even know about those kinds of things?

Mika began to cry as his other sister bounced into the room. Hana immediately shot an accusatory look in Momo's direction and knelt down on the floor.

"You guys shouldn't be watching those late-night cartoons! That isn't my girlfriend!" Momo protested, pointing at the doll in shorts.

"It is too," Mika managed through her sobs. She cried into her sister's shirt, making a wet spot dark enough that Momo could see it from here. He felt bad.

Momo put his hand on his littlest sister's shoulder. "Hey, hey, don't cry!" he said, but Mika wouldn't stop. This is why he wished he had brothers sometimes, like Kaidoh or Eiji-senpai. Momo was no good with girls, and with brothers he could just punch them or wrestle with them until he got his way. And they wouldn't be playing Barbies or tea time or anything that required Momo to wear lace gloves and pearls.

"Get out, Takeshi," Hana told him.

Momo left, yelling to his mother that he was going outside to train. She told him to be home before dinner, though with the way things were headed Momo halfway expected everything to burn and then there'd be no dinner at all, and that would be terrible. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up even more.

He unlocked his bicycle and yanked it out of the garage, pedaling toward the street courts. Exhausted as he'd been after practice, tennis was the only thing that would help right now. Maybe he could beat some Kakinoki ass or even some high schoolers. "Hairdresser," he fumed, pumping his legs double-fast. "Like I'd be a fucking hairdresser."

The street courts were crowded, even more crowded than they usually were. Momo threw down his bike and had trouble pushing through the press of people to the sidelines.

"Oi," Momoshiro muttered when he saw who it was.

There was some big kid that Momo didn't know on one side, Kaidoh on the other side. He was sweating hard, wiping his face with the edge of his tank top from time to time, but he didn't seem to be running around much and he was definitely in control of the match. Everyone was whispering about the crazy guy from Seigaku who was beating everyone's ass upside down.

"Hey," Momo said, nudging a boy standing next to him, "how many matches has he played?"

"Five or something! He hasn't even dropped a game yet."

Hadn't dropped a game? Momo snorted. He'd see about that, he thought, grabbing his racquet and walking out onto the court.

Kaidoh's opponent looked at him, surprised. "Scram," Momo told him, cheerfully.

"I'm playing!"

Momo laughed. "Wrong. He's playing with you. Now move so I can beat him already."

Kaidoh glared at them, but didn't say anything. Then he focused his stare completely on the other kid, who made an 'eep' noise and ran off the court.

"Don't you do anything but train?" Momo shouted to Kaidoh, pointing his racquet across the net. Kaidoh replied by adjusting his bandana and hunching into position at the baseline. Momo grinned. This was exactly what he wanted, exactly.

The crowd grew as Momoshiro and Kaidoh played, but Momo didn't pay any attention. He didn't really pay attention to anyone else when he played tennis, especially not when he played Kaidoh. It was always a loop of 'won't lose to him, won't lose to him' that his brain played over and over as his arms and his legs and his whole body followed, blocking out anything but the thwock of the ball, the twang of their racquets, and their grunts as they returned shot after shot, finished game after game, fought for every point.

Momoshiro sent a ball into a corner, which Kaidoh was half a second too late to reach and the loop stopped abruptly as the ball bounced away. Kaidoh was at the net a minute later, breathing heavy, his hand outstretched.

"Good match," he said reluctantly.

"You, too," Momo said. They gripped hands and shook, the sweat from their hands trapped between them, slick and disgusting.

Momo didn't let go. Neither did Kaidoh.

"Did you change your bandages again?" Kaidoh asked.

"Did you almost get thrown out of nationals again?" Momo asked

"Stupid," they replied in unison. Momo had to stop himself from grinning more.

The crowd's applause reached Momoshiro's ears apparently at the same time it reached Kaidoh's because they both looked down at their hands, then up at each other and pulled away like their fingers were on fire. Then they wouldn't look at each other at all.

But Momo did ride his bike alongside Kaidoh as Kaidoh jogged home, and Momo decided that even burnt dinner wouldn't be too bad. It was still something.

Plus, they only got into one fight on the way to Kaidoh's house, and that had to be some sort of record.

***

On Monday, Kaidoh grabbed Momoshiro's wrist as soon as he came out of his classroom at the end of the day. They probably had a half an hour or more before they had to get to practice, but Momo usually used that time to visualize different plays and also for snacking.

"Where are you taking me?" Momoshiro asked, but that only tightened the hold Kaidoh had on his wrist and made him move even faster. Not that it was a struggle to keep up or anything, though Momo was a little surprised when they stopped at a janitor's closet.

"Get inside," Kaidoh said. Usually an order like that from Kaidoh would have Momo balking, but Kaidoh was turning redder by the second and he wouldn't look at Momo, so Momo decided that he could probably spare Kaidoh a minute. Two, at most.

Kaidoh slammed the door shut behind him and pushed Momoshiro back against some shelves. Was Kaidoh's schedule now so tight that he had to schedule fights with Momo? Honestly, he was a little touched. He could do that, if that's what Kaidoh wanted.

"What the hell, jerk?" Momo didn't sound right; there was no hostility there, just a unexplainable, jumpy feeling in his gut and an inability to look away. Kaidoh stepped in.

Close up, Momo saw that Kaidoh's bruise was almost gone. He briefly wished he could stop wearing his bandages, but only briefly because Kaidoh was crowding him into a corner.

Kaidoh seized a handful of Momo's shirt, right in the middle. "I-- I don't need you to snap me out of it during games anymore."

"Oh," said Momo. This was really confusing.

Kaidoh's hands were shaking. "I'm not weak!" he shouted.

"I know that!" Momo shouted back.

Something in Kaidoh's expression softened, and he tugged Momoshiro forward. Momo remembered the way they'd pressed their hands together the day before, the way they went forehead-to-forehead during their match against Rikkai Dai, the way they breathed together and worked together and collapsed together. The way they lost together, and the way Momo somehow knew neither of them would ever let that happen again.

"You think I'd want a weakass for a rival?" Momo asked, faces close enough to press their foreheads close again if he wanted. He flicked his gaze down to Kaidoh's mouth without even thinking about it, but that was enough because Kaidoh pulled him further still, landing an awkward kiss at the corner of Momoshiro's mouth.

Momoshiro blinked. Kaidoh hissed. Momo grabbed Kaidoh's shirt, too, and kissed him again. This kiss was longer, and better centered, and better in general, which Momo knew was obviously because he'd kissed Kaidoh this time, not the other way around. He let Kaidoh push him back, press into him until he let go of the front of Kaidoh's shirt to grab the back. They pressed together more tightly, Momoshiro opening his mouth to breathe and getting Kaidoh's tongue inside his mouth instead, and that was weird and really kind of hot all at once, but then Momo was really desperate for air so he had to break away panting.

"Breathe through your nose, idiot," Kaidoh said, like he was the expert on kissing. Shit, what if he was? Momoshiro didn't have any experience with this, so he definitely couldn't decide who was an authority on what, but rationalizing was hard for him on a normal day, let alone when Momo had his head tilted back and Kaidoh decided that sucking on Momoshiro's throat was more important than teaching him to breathe properly.

"Hey, hey," Momo tried saying, only it was getting kind of hard to talk. It was hot in the closet, Momoshiro was almost sweating. Kaidoh looked up, and Momo swallowed at the way Kaidoh looked at him, blushing and intense all at once. Definitely too hot in closet, definitely.

"What?" Kaidoh growled.

"My mom washed your bandana," Momoshiro said. "She got all the blood out. Do you want it back?"

Kaidoh laughed, and that was a weird sound. "Keep it, dumbass. Now shut up." Then he kissed Momoshiro again, and Momo did shut up. Sort of. Some sounds were hard to stop.

Ten minutes later they were spilling back out into the hallway, adjusting their clothes. Kaidoh looked disheveled and Momo figured he probably looked the same, though he hoped Kaidoh was the only one with a weird red mark right above his shirt collar. Momoshiro ran his fingers through his hair.

"This still doesn't make me a hairdresser," he mumbled.

Kaidoh gave him a funny look. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing." He took a step in to-- to what? Hold Kaidoh's hand? That wasn't going to happen this century, at least not in public. On the courts didn't count.

"You need to change that more often," Kaidoh said. He flicked Momoshiro's cheek.

"Ow," Momo replied, but there was no heat behind it. He was too tired for heat. Too happy, too.

"I have to go," Kaidoh said and walked off abruptly, like Momo wasn't going exactly where he was. Rude. Momo tilted his head and watched Kaidoh walk away.

"Momo, can I talk to you for a second?" someone said and tapped his shoulder. Momo somehow managed not to shriek manfully and turned around.

It was Taka-san, looking nervous and rubbing the back of his head. Momo froze. If Taka had been standing by the supply closet and he said that he'd heard, Momo would just say he'd been fighting with Kaidoh, and that's why his lips were so swollen. That made perfect sense.

"Sure, Taka-san." Momo forced himself to grin brightly.

"Have you ever considered training in the mountains? It's supposed to be great for power players. I was going to go at the end of the week and thought you'd want to join me. I think I can get Ryuzaki-sensei to give us permission to get out of school for a couple of days, especially since we'll be excused for nationals anyway."

Momo let out a sigh of relief. Two days out of school and he hadn't been outed to his teammates?

"Of course!"

***

"What'd you do at your training?" Kaidoh asked him at practice Saturday. Things hadn't been too awkward between them after...after, but they also hadn't gone around making out in supply closets either. Momoshiro wasn't sure if he was disappointed about that or not.

Momo smiled. "I lifted boulders. I became one with nature."

"You're such a moron," Kaidoh mumbled and punched Momo's arm.

"You don't have to believe me," Momo said and shrugged. They probably would have fought more, only Oishi-senpai was getting ready to serve, and it wasn't like either of them was going to give up a chance to watch Tezuka-buchou play. It was weird enough that Tezuka-buchou was back and preparing to play with them for nationals.

Momo still couldn't believe that Oishi-senpai wouldn't let him give up his place for Seigaku, even if he was relieved. He still had another year, but he also couldn't lie when Oishi-senpai asked him if he still wanted to play. Of course Momo wanted to play! They all did, they all always did.

The match passed in a flash. Momo didn't think he breathed even once until Oishi-senpai lost that last point, his fingers clutched hard in the links of the metal fence.

Oishi-senpai announced to everyone that Tezuka-buchou was the strongest person for winning at the nationals. He was crying, and Momoshiro had to swallow a lump in his own throat, too.

"C'mon, mamushi," he said to Kaidoh. "Let's play a match."

***

Kaidoh won, but it had been close, really close. They were both in top form; they had to be, there was only one day before nationals. But now Momo thought that being one with nature meant his stomach was filled with grasshoppers and butterflies.

He was still jumpy even after he played, shoving Kaidoh back and forth as they walked to the showers. The clubhouse keys were sitting in Momo's cubby when they got inside.

Momoshiro, please lock up. Tezuka is in Ryuzaki-sensei's office, so you can return the keys to him after you leave. They're his. -- Oishi

"Guess we're alone." Momo laughed, trying to ignore his stomach jumping again. It had been five days since he and Kaidoh had been really alone, since that. He tried not to think about it, and sat down on a bench, bending his head to unlace his sneakers.

When he looked up, Kaidoh was standing in front of him, first aid and sewing kits stacked right on top of each another. He handed the box and case to Momo, then pulled Momo's bandage off, superfast. Momo didn't yell, he absolutely didn't.

"It looks better," Kaidoh said. He ran two fingers over Momoshiro's cheek. Momo closed his eyes and tried to remember to breathe. The scissors created a tiny little breeze as Kaidoh snipped tape, Kaidoh's fingers strange and gentle as he disinfected Momo's cut, replaced the bandage. "You're done."

Momo opened his eyes and found Kaidoh looking down at him. His hand was still on Momo's face, palm pressed to his jaw.

"Okay, now do my nose," Momoshiro said quietly.

"Do it yours--" Kaidoh choked as Momoshiro leaned forward and put his cheek right against Kaidoh's stomach. Kaidoh seemed frozen, though he clutched Momo's shoulder tight.

Momo didn't know what he was doing, but Kaidoh smelled kind of good, or his shirt did, like a mix of detergent and sweat from their match. He pushed it up with his teeth, lips against Kaidoh's stomach before the shirt could fall again.

"Idiot," Kaidoh gasped, his hand back on Momo's face. And maybe Momo was an idiot, maybe he was, but that was probably the reason he could run his hand up Kaidoh's calf, up his thigh, why he could feel hair and hard muscle under his palm, why he could rub Kaidoh through the front of his shorts, and why he could lick Kaidoh's stomach, warm and soft and alive, and still feel okay about it. In fact, Momo felt pretty damned Zen.

Until Kaidoh shoved him and ran into the showers. Momo fell over the bench and swore. "You could at least try being more at one with the universe!" Momo shouted after him, struggling to his feet. He sighed.

Great, the jumpy nervousness came back, too. Momo grabbed his bag and banged out of the clubhouse, still worked up and sweating and turned on and falling over his shoelaces and landing on the dirt. Stupid earth. He shook his head and walked back toward the courts, not knowing what he was doing. Momo was just following his feet.

He squinted at the setting sun and spotted Tezuka-buchou staring down from Ryuzaki-sensei's window, staring at him, and suddenly Momo got the best idea ever. "Buchou," Momoshiro shouted, "please play a match with me!"

***

Momoshiro was sitting just outside the courts, head on his knees, still going over his mistakes and trying to find ways to counter the Tezuka Zone when Kaidoh found him, hair damp from the shower. Water dripped onto Momo's legs.

"What was the score?" Kaidoh asked.

He didn't bother wondering how Kaidoh knew. "Six to three."

"You scored three games off the captain?" Kaidoh sounded surprised.

Momo looked up then, wide grin twisting across his face. "Yeah, I sure fucking did," Momo said, and tackled Kaidoh to the dirt, not caring how clean Kaidoh was from his shower.

It didn't seem like Kaidoh cared either, not the way he mumbled an apology and tugged Momo's head down to kiss him, short kisses, then longer ones, ones that made Momo's whole body hum and made them both struggle for control. Kaidoh rolled over Momo rolled over Kaidoh rolled over Momo, and then they didn't roll anymore. Instead they moved, against each other, with each other, until Momo's head was thrown back and Kaidoh's face was buried in Momo's neck. The shuddered together, forehead-to-forehead, and it was almost the same as when they fought or when they played.

Momoshiro flopped back and looked up at the blue, blue sky. He let out a whoop. "We're going to be national champions, mamushi! We really are!"

"Of course we are, idiot," Kaidoh said, right against Momo's ear, making Momoshiro shiver. "Let's shower before Tezuka-buchou arrests you for stealing his keys." Momoshiro shivered again.

***

After dinner that night, Momoshiro asked Mika if he could be the hairdresser, and she nodded enthusiastically and threw her little arms around his waist. He accepted it when Hana set Momo's doll representation up in a shoebox apartment with the doll wearing the sleeveless shirt and shorts, and even allowed himself to be prettied up with a straw hat and pair of lace gloves.

Momo's mother told him he had a phone call and barely blinked at the lip gloss that now covered her only son's mouth.

It was Kaidoh on the phone. Momo didn't mention what he was wearing. Kaidoh didn't have much to say to him, other than ticking Momo off when he insinuated that he'd end up with more wins at nationals because Momo was always slacking off and Kaidoh had trained so much. But Momo thought it was nice that Kaidoh had called, though he couldn't say why.

Then Kaidoh had to go because Inui-senpai was calling his cell phone, and they had to discuss their morning training.

"If you don't pick up, does Inui-senpai keep calling and calling until you answer? I bet he does."

Kaidoh hissed. "No, he only does that to Tezuka-buchou," he said. Then he hung up.

Momo laughed as he hung up the phone and willingly let himself be led back into the tea party, though he was less glad when he found out an overstuffed turtle had been promoted to the rank of 'Takeshi's Girlfriend.'

"Don't you have anything faster?" he asked Mika, then waved his hands frantically when her lower lip began to tremble. "Just kidding, just kidding! Slow and steady wins the race." He hugged the turtle close to his chest, which wasn't that bad. The turtle was pretty soft, and Momo got three extra teacakes for his effort.

When Momo went to bed that night, he slept pretty well, way better than he'd expected. He thought he could get used to days like this -- tennis matches and making out and cake. Though he could probably do without lace gloves.

***

The crowd was on its feet, and so was Momoshiro. He didn't think he blinked once during any of the matches against Higa Chuu, and he hated being the reserve, even though he knew he'd have his chance, he definitely knew it.

"Winner, Inui-Kaidoh pair, six games to three," droned a bored-voice over the P.A. On the court, Kaidoh and Inui-senpai shouted and touched fists and ran off the court to the congratulations of the other teammates.

"One down," Momoshiro said into Kaidoh's ear as they separated from a very manly and public hug. Well, mostly manly -- Momo might have lingered a second or two too long.

"I'm not going to lose," Kaidoh said. He pointed at Momo's cheek, his nose. "When are you taking those off?"

"Like you said, I'm almost healed. I'll take them off when I play."

***

Momoshiro pulled his bandages off his face superfast right before his match with Oshitari. Eiji-senpai complimented him on his manliness, and that was great right up until he split his head open again and lost.

"Shit, I'm sorry, you guys!" Momo shouted as Oishi-senpai and Taka-san helped him off the court. So much for letting old wounds heal; he resigned himself to a lifetime of head wounds. Momo sat down on the grass and let Ryuzaki-sensei tape him up. It was nothing like when Kaidoh did it, nothing at all.

Momo sighed.

"No, Momo, it was a nice game," said Inui-senpai. His eyes flicked up and Momo's followed. Kaidoh had his hands jammed into his pockets and he glanced once in Momoshiro's direction. "Thanks to you, several of us are now fired up."

Momo watched closely as the next match against Hyoutei started. One of them flipped, and the other did his weird karate tennis, but Kaidoh only yelled once, barely a reaction at all. Kaidoh wouldn't let himself get unraveled by stuff like that. He moved back to baseline, sending one more look in Momoshiro's direction. Nothing about Kaidoh was weak, nothing at all.

"That's it, mamushi!" Momo shouted. He picked at the edge of his tape. "Beat their asses upside down!"

END

***

Omake

"Um, why are you guys always touching each other?" Momo asked. "Don't tell me you're a homo--"

"You guessed right, kiddo. <3"

"Uh," said Kaidoh, shooting Momoshiro a look over his shoulder.

Not that Momo had any problem with that.

Happy Spring good_chaser!

nickelodeon — Sun, 29 Apr 2007 17:12:51 GMT

Title: The Heart of the West Wind
Recipient: good_chaser
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Atobe/Tezuka
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Err, not that it merits warning, as such, but it’s not set in the canon-timeline. Not strictly an alternate universe, but they’re older than canon. (Mid twenties.) Aside from that, there’s sexual situations, and some bad language. Nothing that isn’t covered by an ‘R’ rating. I know you asked for no death, but there is one – it’s nothing major, just a relative of one of the main characters, used as a plot device. I hope that’s okay. I guess to sum it up, it's somewhat angsty future-fic.
Author's Notes: I really hope you enjoy this, and I’ve done justice to the ‘older’ versions of the characters you asked for. *bites nails* I worked really, really hard on trying to create a detailed, realistic universe for these guys (since I was writing outside of canon), while trying to remain true to them. So I hope everyone gives it a chance, even if it isn’t your favourite pairing. I hope the writing stands alone as good, regardless. I had a blast letting Atobe take it where he wanted, so anything you don’t like – blame him. XD He practically wrote it for me. Many, many thanks to my beta for putting up with my late-night pestering. ^^

( Happy Spring good_chaser! )

Happy Spring songsheet!

nickelodeon — Sun, 29 Apr 2007 04:36:28 GMT

Title: Window Seat
Recipient's name: songsheet
Rating: PG
Pairing: Oishi/Shishido
Disclaimer: I still don't own Prince of Tennis.
Warnings: None?
Artist's Notes: I hope you enjoy this, songsheet. Your request was extremely fun to work with!

It had started on the courts, but it continued on a bus. That sounded cheesy and all, but it was accurate enough, Shishido thought.

"Hi," a boy said before sitting down in the seat next to him. "At first I wasn't sure if it was you, and I kind of looked away, trying to find somewhere else to sit! Because you know… it's always awkward when you call out to someone thinking they're someone you know but when they turn toward you, you realize too late that you don't know them at all – they're a stranger! Has that ever happened to you? It happens to me all the time."

Shishido rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Oishi."

"Oh. Okay…" Oishi looked down and fiddled with the zipper of his bag nervously.

Shishido pressed his lips together. He tried to ignore Oishi's discomfort. What he ended up saying was, "You didn't even let me say hello back before you went off and told me your lame life story."

Shishido was looking out of the corner of his eye at Oishi (but pretending not to), so he noticed when Oishi smiled and looked up again. Oishi raised his hand to scratch his hair and said, "Sorry."

"It's fine," Shishido said.

The bus finally pulled away from the stop, and they were silent for a few seconds.

"So how are you, Shishido-kun?" Oishi asked.

Shishido hated small-talk. He frowned. "I'm good."

"Oh… that's nice," Oishi commented. He paused for a few seconds before adding, "I'm doing well too."

Shishido gave Oishi a look. It wasn't a nice look. It was a cross between a 'well good for you' look and just a general 'this is lame' look.

Shishido didn't expect Oishi to blush.

He blinked. And then he coughed and changed the subject.

"Where're you going, then?"

Oishi was still red.

What the hell? Shishido thought.

"Ah… the street tennis courts. You?"

Shishido frowned. "Oh, lame."

"Excuse me?"

"I meant… me too," Shishido corrected, meeting Oishi's eyes in the hopes of perhaps trying to convince him of his sincerity.

Oishi took a moment before smiling again. There was still a hint of pink on his face, and for some reason Shishido found it unsettling.

"We could play a match," Oishi suggested.

Shishido thought that was probably the best idea he'd heard from Oishi since he'd sat next to him on the bus.

"Unless you're busy with something else…" Oishi added unnecessarily.

Shishido just gave him a grin and an elbow to the side. "I'm not."

*

It had started on the courts, there was a bus ride somewhere in the middle, and then it had ended with tennis again.

Or perhaps it had begun again, because it came to be almost like a cycle: tennis, bus ride, tennis, bus ride. And always together. After that very first meeting on the bus, Shishido had decided (and Oishi had gladly agreed) that their next meeting should be less serendipitous and more like…

"Next Saturday at two. We can play again."

"Oh, all right! I'm free."

"Good. It would have been lame if you couldn’t come."

Oishi nodded and Shishido tried to hide his grin by looking out the window.

*

Weeks later, Shishido wasn't in a good mood.

"What the hell is wrong with people, Oishi?" Shishido lamented. His bad mood from earlier in the day (his mother had asked him to fold laundry, and then his stupid dog had jumped on him and scratched his leg, and for some reason his PlayStation wouldn't work right) was further ruined the moment he spotted a group of older kids playing tennis on their Saturday afternoon tennis court.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Shishido," Oishi said, hesitating for a moment before placing a calming hand on Shishido's shoulder. "We can wait, right?"

Shishido pouted, though if you dared described it as a pout to him, he would likely kick your ass. Or at least throw a hissy fit. "Wait and do what?"

Oishi's eyes wandered from the court and Shishido to across the street.

"There's a movie theater," Oishi suggested softly. "I mean. We can watch a movie? If you didn't bring any money, that's fine! I have some, and you can pay me back later. Or if you'd rather not, I guess we could just sit here and watch these people play…"

Shishido gave Oishi a look. This one was an 'are you kidding me?' look.

"Whatever," Shishido said, crossing his arms petulantly. "There's no good movies out, though."

Shishido paused, looking at the sign in front of the theater that listed the movies being shown. Oishi did the same. They turned to each other at the same time. Oishi opened his mouth and Shishido messed with his hat so the brim hid his face.

"Happy Feet is fine with me," he muttered.

Oishi smiled.

*

As it turned out, Oishi was a horrible person to go to the movies with. He made random comments throughout the movie and Shishido hated it when people did that.

"Mumble is so cute…"

"Uh… right."

Pause.

"This song is so catchy!"

"Whatever you say, Oishi."

Pause.

"The love between Mumble and Gloria is a really beautiful thing, isn't it, Shishido?"

A short pause.

"Oishi. They're penguins."

Oishi just laughed, and Shishido couldn't help feeling a little better by the end of the movie, despite Oishi's annoying movie-watching habit.

"So, tennis now?" Shishido suggested after they left the movie theater. He squinted and raised a hand to shield his still light-sensitive eyes. Stupid dark theater, he thought.

Oishi hesitated and blinked a little, himself. "Let's wait for our eyes to readjust first."

"Good idea," Shishido grumbled, aware that Oishi had moved quite a bit closer in the last couple of seconds, but not aware of what exactly that meant. "Oishi, what're you—"

Oishi reached an arm up and grabbed the wrist of Shishido's hand that was trying and failing to shield out the afternoon sun. Shishido's eyes were half-closed, but he was able to see that Oishi's were open, mainly because Oishi's face was right in front of his own and Oishi's lips were…

And then they weren't.

Shishido stared for a moment, then blinked. "Damn it!" he yelled, covering his face.

Oishi stood nearby, horrified and petrified and ten separate shades of red and pink (such as crimson and fuchsia and magenta) and he probably wanted to die, but Shishido wasn't thinking about that at this time.

His eyes hurt.

"I'll… be going now. I'm sorry, Shishido," Oishi said. Shortly after he turned tail and ran.

When Shishido's eyes finally adjusted to the sunlight and he found Oishi gone, he felt as if his day couldn't have gotten any worse.

When he got home, though, his mother yelled at him for not walking the dog like she'd asked him to almost a week ago, and he began to wonder if maybe the world just hated Shishido Ryou and wanted to make him cry like a little girl.

It was close to succeeding, but not quite.

*

After he finished walking the stupid dog, Shishido collapsed into his bed and pulled out his cell phone to text message Oishi. It would probably be awkward explaining himself, and it would requite a good deal of humility on his part, but he could manage it. He could manage it for Oishi.

Oishi I'm sorry. My eyes hurt. Your kiss didn't.

Shishido stared at the message for at least five minutes. The phone's screen went blank after sixty seconds of use, and Shishido counted five times that it went blank, so he knew.

The message was lame and sounded like something someone might say in a chick flick. Then again, Oishi apparently liked kids' movies, so was it really such a stretch to think that he would appreciate a corny text message?

Shishido hit send and then worked on his algebra homework.

*

Shishido checked his phone every day for the next week and still there wasn't a single reply or phone call from Oishi.

He became irritable (or rather, more irritable than he usually was). He became prone to yelling at underclassmen.

He'd never admit it, even to himself, but what he was really becoming was worried.

*

Shishido took the bus home from school on Friday afternoons. Today he sat leaning his forehead against the bus window and staring at his phone in a way that some might describe as "dejection". Should he send another message to Oishi? Should he try calling him this time? Should he…

"…sit here?" someone asked. Shishido hadn't been paying attention.

"Yeah, whatever," he replied, not looking up and instead continuing to frown at his phone.

"Ah… how have you been?" the person next to him said, and it took Shishido a while to finally look up, even after he recognized the voice.

When he did, his eyes were wider than he would have liked and his expression was probably way lamer than he would have liked, but he managed to give Oishi a half-smile anyway.

"It's you," he said somewhat quietly.

"It's me," Oishi replied.

Shishido felt his face heat up.

"Uh…" Shishido managed.

"About last week—" Oishi attempted.

There was a pause, then Oishi said, "You first!"

Shishido frowned slightly and removed his hat to run a hand through his hair. It stuck up funny after that, but it wasn't like Shishido could tell.

"It's just… it's about last week," Shishido said finally, not meeting Oishi's eyes.

"Ah. What about it?"

Shishido tried to sink into his seat further, hoping that maybe it would absorb him entirely and prevent him from saying corny, girly things to Oishi.

"You got it all wrong," he said from somewhere within the stinky cushions of the bus seat. He'd actually only sank about five centimeters, but it was nice to pretend. "It was the sun I didn't like, not you."

Shishido felt his face heating up again and his heart start beating faster when Oishi didn't say anything in reply.

When Shishido felt Oishi's hand settle over his own, extending over the seat's armrest, he couldn't help moving his hand so Oishi's hand fit in his and squeezing. He continued looking out the window, though – no way was he going to meet Oishi's eyes when they were holding hands. His life might very well already be over – there was only so much sappy crap a guy could take before he just upped and died, and Shishido felt he was at his limit already.

Thankfully, Oishi seemed to realized this and just asked, "Tennis tomorrow?"

Shishido nodded, smiling at nothing in particular outside the bus window.

He didn't ask why Oishi'd hadn't responded to his text message. It didn't matter, anyway.

*

It started on the courts, continued on a bus, and cycled dozens of times with a few movies and trips to fast food restaurants thrown in.

If there was a little kissing or handholding or whatever else thrown in as well...

Well. That was just between Shishido and Oishi. And that's how Shishido liked it.

Happy Spring!

nickelodeon — Sun, 29 Apr 2007 02:42:59 GMT

Title: The Perfect Pair
Recipient's name: Everyone who celebrates spring!
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): YuutaxMizuki; Shishido and Ohtori (developing relationship)
Author's or Artist's notes: To -------, I really hope that you enjoy this and have fun reading it.
Summary: Mizuki unintentionally provokes Shishido, and Yuuta is dragged into the mess with him.

( Happy Spring! )

Happy spring, everyone!

takewing — Sat, 28 Apr 2007 20:48:12 GMT

Title: Scrapbook
Recipient's name: Everyone in the world!
Rating: PG
Pairing: Yamato/Tezuka
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: None.

[Tezuka and I 06/14/06]

Tezuka looked rather dashing in stripes – his limbs were long and moved elegantly – the stripes served to elongate naturally graceful arms and almost give the illusion that he could truly return any ball. It was a good memory... they met up on a Saturday evening after dinner when Yamato offered to buy his underclassman ice cream. After some complications involving a garden hose, the curb, a cat, and ice cream spilling all over Tezuka’s shirt, the younger boy made the mistake of allowing Yamato to pick out a new long-sleeved t-shirt to fend off the cool summer night air. The picture was snapped when Yamato took his underclassman by surprise, dragging him into a photo booth and insisting they do at least one set.

[Tezuka and Oishi at the aquarium 07/03/06]

Fish had always been more up Oishi’s alley, so it was pleasantly surprising when Tezuka had taken immediately to the seal exhibit, standing at a casual distance, but watching with no short supply of facination. Hovering not far from his shoulder was Oishi – the older of the two rattled off explanations of the different fish (eating habits, mating habits, many things it was a wonder he knew) to his companions as they wandered through the aquarium. Yamato snuck his camera out while the two younger boys were distracted, but the reflection of the flash caught their attention and they both turned sharply back to their former captain. The picture did not come out well, but the subsequent photo taken more or less with their permission in the gardens outside the aquarium came out perfectly.

[Tezuka being clumsy 07/04/06]

All Yamato remembers is the snappish command to never speak of this moment, again, as Tezuka gracelessly picked himself up off the floor. The employees of the store that was selling the waterbed rushed to his aid while Yamato snapped shots that he said were for blackmail purposes.

[Yamabuki invitational 07/27/06]

Upon Minami’s request, Tezuka had found himself, along with several other notable players in the world of junior high tennis, involved in a friendly tennis tournament in the dead of summer. It was too hot to think, almost too hot to breathe – complaints rose between Hyoutei’s famed prodigy Atobe and Yamabuki’s ace Sengoku (one rare moment, Tezuka would explain later, that the two would speak pleasantly). Ever stoic, the bespectacled boy showed no sign of being phased by the heat – he only appeared mildly disappointed when the event was called due to the extreme heat. Yamabuki’s infamous Don Juan settled beside Tezuka on one of the benches, grinning at him and speaking to him just loudly enough that his tone (playful) could be determined from the spectator seating, but not his words. Yamato captured Tezuka’s small, bemused smile on film.

[Tezuka, Fuji and Oishi 08/03/06]

It was no shock that Tezuka owned a kimono that had been in his family for years – not only was it clearly hand woven and dyed, but it was a dignified indigo in color and woven with a delicate gold pattern. Strangely enough, he appeared fully relaxed in such a garment; Yamato suspected that it was more familiar to him than the jeans and t-shirts that many of the other young festival goers wore. With the sleeves pulled back, crouching in front of a small trough and attempting to catch a goldfish with a paper net, it was almost difficult to believe he was the same boy with the intense stare on the tennis courts. Lingering near his arm, cheering him on with a pleasant smile, was Fuji who looked nothing short of feminine in a light brown yukata. Yamato borrowed his camera, instructing him to move a bit closer to Tezuka, and took the picture just as Tezuka successfully captured the fish. They named it Oishi.

[Oishi and Tezuka 08/13/06]

Summer’s heat blazed on – it was as though the sun was hanging too close to the world, hovering just above their heads, threatening to burn them to a crisp. Unperturbed, Oishi had suggested that everyone go to the pool together and somehow Tezuka had been coerced into calling Yamato to invite him along. Kikumaru, ever troublesome, had the presence of mind to purchase a disposable camera that was good underwater and was passed between Seigaku’s tennis club – present and former members alike. By the time it landed in Yamato’s hand, he had the ideal shot – Oishi, garbed only in a pair of purple swim trunks and goggles, dragging Tezuka (who had not yet removed his shirt as he stubbornly read beside the pool under an umbrella) into the water by one arm. Moments later, Tezuka had given his best friend a withering glare, but the camera was by then out of film.

[deleted]

The fun house was often the best part of the amusement park, for Yamato – he enjoyed most the mirrors that warped anyone who might happen to look in them. He was most fond of the one that gave him long legs and an impressive chest, posing like a model in front of it with a shit-eating grin. Marginally unimpressed, his underclassman had wandered on to the room where the floors shook, making it difficult to traverse. Yamato followed, loyal as a puppy, moving carelessly across the floor that inevitably jolted him into Tezuka, pinning the younger boy against the rail bodily as Yamato outweighed him significantly. The picture that was accidentally captured by the camera as he bumped it with his elbow was of their sneakers – attempting to occupy the same space on the floor and ending up parallel. Said picture did not tell of the sudden furious beat of Yamato’s heart, the dusting of color on Tezuka’s cheeks, or the moment of inner panic where neither of them knew how to gracefully defuse the situation.

[Tezuka, Atobe and Sanada 10/04/06]

Misery by any other name would be Tezuka – he had agreed to the birthday party simply to stop his phone from ringing eighteen times a day (he counted). Unfortunately, his plan to curb Atobe’s enthusiasm had backfired and quite soon he found himself at the very center (or, next to the very center, anyway) of attention at a gigantic party involving nearly every junior high aged boy who played tennis in the Tokyo area. Fuji was the one taking pictures, that day – he had sent them to Yamato upon request, later, so Yamato did not know the story behind the one picture in particular that was immortalized in his photo album. For a moment, though, it seemed there was peace as Tezuka offered a glass in toast to Rikkai’s vice captain. Sitting between them, eyeing Sanada, was Atobe, his glass half-raised to join them. Every now and then, Yamato would return to the picture and wonder what words Tezuka had spoken in toast.

[Tezuka 10/07/06]

Tezuka insisted for months to follow that he had no reason to explain himself.

[Tezuka and Momoshiro 11/21/06]

It was no secret that Momoshiro often fell asleep on long bus rides, and it was not all surprising to learn that it was no different on trains, subways, airplanes, cars... actually, it was a wonder he did not fall asleep on his bike. This did not serve to soothe the frustration evident in Tezuka’s posture as the younger boy slumbered away peacefully on his shoulder. As it said in his text message, Oishi could not help but snap the picture with his phone – he sent it along to Yamato since he knew the former captain would appreciate it. Later, he sent along a second with the caption, "don’t tell Tezuka." The boy’s sleeping face was well worth his reaction when he inevitably found out.

[Tezuka and I 12/25/06]

Christmas was cold but not snowy – everyone ran about bundled up in heavy coats over their suits or school uniforms while Yamato remained mostly oblivious to the temperature, content with a sweater and scarf. He had a date – the girl was supposed to be meeting him for hot chocolate at a café near their school – but was very early, as was in his nature. For this, he was rewarded with the most pleasant of surprises as his protégé and friend rounded the corner of the street, coming toward him with his eyes turned down to the ground below him. Yamato remembered them exchanging a few words; Tezuka mentioned that he was on his way home, and after a few minutes they were in the café having cocoa together – well, tea for Tezuka. If the girl had ever shown up, Yamato did not know. A young woman at the table next to them was easily talked into taking a picture of the two of them, together. Tezuka’s nose and ears were red from being out in the cold.

[Tezuka 01/12/07]

Though he maintained for all eternity that it was not his doing, but Echizen’s, Tezuka had added a cell phone strap to his phone, nonetheless. Feigning fiddling with his own phone, Yamato was sure that both Tezuka and the white cat were captured in the photograph for the sake of posterity.

[Tezuka and I 05/10/04]

The picture did not surface until well after the scrapbook was beginning to be compiled. Tezuka looked so small – his arms and legs were thin, his shoulders narrow, and his clothing looked to be a touch too big for his awkward frame. Or, maybe it was just that Yamato never grew again, after that day – he looked so much older than Tezuka, sitting passively reading a magazine while the younger boy cradled his left elbow in his hand and looked down at his feet. Even his sneakers looked too big for his body – like a puppy with adult-sized feet on a small frame. Moments after, Yamato had glanced over and offered some words of comfort that appeared to go ignored.

[Tezuka 02/14/07]

Just as he was in stripes, Tezuka was striking in his school uniform – it was amazing how the same outfit could be worn by so many people, but look as though it had been designed to fit one boy in particular in a sea of black jackets over white shirts. Yamato discovers him in an otherwise empty classroom, hiding out during his lunch break. Valentine’s Day was dangerous for boys like Tezuka – handsome, charismatic, brilliant – and that particular year it was no different. The picture was taken to document just how many gifts Tezuka had already received – it could not be helped that it featured the otherwise composed boy looking somewhere between sullen and embarrassed.

[Seigaku 02/14/07]

They gathered on the court if only because there was safety in numbers.

[Tezuka and I 06/14/07]

The funny thing about kissing Yamato was that it is entirely unlike kissing a girl. His body was warm – wide at the shoulders – he would be smothering to a person of a smaller stature. His lips were soft, but demanding – his chin was scratchy with perpetual stubble that he did not seem to ever quite shave completely. Everything – from his manners to the way his hands had already began wandering well beyond where they were welcome – everything about Yamato Yuudai was quite inescapably masculine.

It was entirely strange to find oneself in the position of kissing one’s tennis captain as well, Tezuka found himself thinking somewhere between the phone slipping from his fingers and feeling his shoulders touch the wall. He thought perhaps he ought to be resisting – or at least pretending to resist – but something about the confused buzz of voices on the other end of the phone and the scratchy feeling of stubble he can feel rub against his own skin made it quite hard to do much of anything but think about how he ought to be doing things. Some part of his mind (the part that is still wondering how this whole kissing business works as he has only been kissed once, and then it was not only by a girl but also on more of a dare basis than anything else) wondered if they ought remove their glasses, and if that story about how two people with braces kissing could potentially catch braces was really true.

Saliva was sticky.

Long, thin fingers wrapped tight in the cloth of the upper classman’s jersey. Naturally, Tezuka was awarded a regular jersey as well – he was the first ever freshman in the high school division to serve as a vice captain, and even then it was only because it was Yamato who held the honor of captain for the club. It was not totally unusual for them to be alone, like this, after practice in the clubroom. They worked together to close up the clubhouse every night after practice – once the other freshman finished putting away the nets and the crates of balls, Tezuka lingered behind with their captain for a few moments to be sure everything was in order and then lock up.

Distantly, he was still aware of the cell phone he dropped before, but did not realize that he had kicked it under the lockers while being pushed back, and that it would require some effort digging it out, later. All he can think about was lips, stubble, the inherent properties of saliva, and murmured words of fondness moments before Yamato pounced.

Alerted by the sudden, abrupt end to the phone call, Fuji was there to document it all on film.

Happy spring, trembles!

takewing — Sat, 28 Apr 2007 06:23:17 GMT

Title: The Proposition
Recipient's name: eames
Rating: PG
Pairing: Atobe/Oshitari, with lots of Hyoutei appearances
Disclaimer: Don't own it. Le sigh.
Warnings: None, really.
Author's notes: I don't know if it's exactly what you wanted, but I hope you like it all the same. It was definitely fun to write, and it's got a lot of Atobe, at least. Bonus points if you catch the allusion to another Spluff fic. :P

It all started with what one might consider an innocent question, fueled by mere curiosity and a desire to know more about one's teammates.

Or that's what it would have been if said question had been asked by anyone other than Oshitari.

“Hey, Atobe,” the boy drawled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “When was the last time you went on a date with a girl?”

They were at Atobe's house, along with Shishido, books spread out on the carpet in front of them as they did their homework. Shishido glanced up, frowning at Oshitari, and then directed a more interested look toward Atobe.

“I fail to see how that's any of your business,” Atobe said smoothly, barely looking up from his Greek textbook.

“It's just a question,” Oshitari said. “What about you, Shishido?”

Shishido scowled. “It's a lame question.”

“You're not going to answer either?”

“Why should I?” Shishido said. “Does it matter?”

Oshitari sighed in the manner of one who had the weight of the world on his shoulders and no one volunteering to help him with it.

“Why do you even want to know?” Shishido asked.

Oshitari shrugged. “I enjoy being nosy,” he said, shifting around until he was laying on his side, propped up on his elbow.

“Well, when was the last time you went on a date, ahn?” Atobe said.

“Two weeks ago,” Oshitari said promptly. He smirked. “With that girl you turned down from our math class.”

“If you enjoy dating my castoffs, far be it from me to stop you,” Atobe said, flicking his hair back from his eyes. “She must have been desperate for a movie companion if she turned to you.”

“Actually, she was more than pleased and we had a very enjoyable time,” Oshitari drawled, lips stretching into a grin. “Poor girl deserved a good night out after the way you treated her.”

“Is there a point to your blathering, Oshitari?” Atobe asked, finally setting his book down and giving the other boy an annoyed look. “Unlike you, I happen to care about my grades and would very much appreciate being left alone to complete my homework.”

“I just think it's weird,” Oshitari said slowly, eying Atobe steadily, “that for someone who has so many girls fawning over him, you've been on so few dates.”

“Shishido hasn't been on that many dates,” Atobe said, gesturing towards the other boy who was doing his best to ignore them. His shoulders twitched when he heard his name.

“Shishido's different, he doesn't have a fanclub of over one-hundred members willing to obey his every whim.”

“Hey!” Shishido glared. “Shut up about my fanclub!”

“Your nonexistent fanclub,” Oshitari corrected.

“Whatever!” Shishido snapped. “Like I want a bunch of girls slobbering all over me anyway!”

“Sometimes I wonder if I should worry for you two,” Oshitari said with another put-upon sigh.

“If you really must know,” Atobe said, rubbing his fingers in circles at his temple as though having to talk to Oshitari was starting to give him a migraine, “I went on a date just...” He paused, frowning. “Well. Back in-” His brow furrowed briefly, and then he abruptly perked up. “My father's company had a Christmas party. I took a girl to that.”

“You took your cousin to that,” Shishido muttered under his breath.

“Not to mention it was four months ago,” Oshitari said flatly.

Atobe huffed. “I can't help it that I've been busy. The tennis season is starting up again and I've got duties to take care of--”

“You're not even the captain anymore!” Shishido exclaimed. “Hell, you're not even vice captain – you're not even a REGULAR yet!”

“Those are merely labels,” Atobe said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It's clear that I'm still the one in charge, and I'll definitely be playing in the first tournament of the season.”

Oshitari and Shishido glanced at each other, rolling their eyes, and then Shishido spoke up again. “You know, Oshitari's right, it has been ages since you've gone out with a girl.”

“Because you're such an expert, Mr. I've Had One Girlfriend And Am Therefore Now A Master Of Dating Techniques.”

“Don't talk about that,” Shishido grumbled.

“How long did you go out?” Atobe asked. “An entire three weeks?”

“Look, her brother was a jerk and refused to let us be alone, I wasn't going to deal with that!” Shishido said. “And we're not talking about me, we're talking you!”

“Yes, and as much as I enjoy that particular topic of conversation, I really feel as though we should--”

“I have a proposition for you,” Oshitari interrupted, ignoring the affronted look Atobe gave him. “You have to get a date to the movies by this time tomorrow.”

“...Or?” Atobe prompted, when Oshitari didn't appear to be getting ready to say anything else.

Oshitari smirked. “Or you have to go with me.”

Atobe blinked. “...Would it be some sappy romance?”

“Maybe I should clarify myself,” Oshitari said, chuckling. “You'll go with me, and you'll be the girl.”

“I'm not sure I'm following you,” Atobe said with a frown.

Oshitari gave him an appraising look. “I think my sister's dresses should fit you just fine,” he said, and Shishido burst out laughing.

“Atobe in a dress!” he crowed, pointing at the other boy. “It has to happen!”

“I'm amused that you seem to think I've already agreed to this,” Atobe said.

“You don't think you can do it?” Oshitari asked, adjusting his glasses so that the light hit them just right, making them glint in what was probably supposed to be devious sort of way.

“Au contraire, I could get any girl in the school to go out with me!” Atobe grinned, running a hand through his hair, and gave Oshitari a speculative look. “They all love me.”

“Then you shouldn't have a problem,” Oshitari said. “You have one day. Find a date, or you're going with me.”

* * *

“The nerve of him,” Atobe said the next morning, leaning against the row of lockers while he waited for Shishido to grab his books. “He thinks I can't get a date? I could ask anyone in this hallway and they'd agree to go out with me in a second!”

“Then why aren't you?” Shishido asked, shoving another textbook into his bag.

Atobe rolled his eyes. “Obviously I can't just pick someone random – if they're going to be seen in public with me it has to be someone up to my standards. Attractive, well-known but not too popular, good academic reputation, athletic...”

“Plays tennis?” Shishido suggested.

“No, unfortunately the girls' team is somewhat lacking in appealing choices, I've already been through the list of names.”

“You are way too picky,” Shishido said, slamming the door of his locker shut. “Oshitari already has this in the bag if that's the way you're going to be.”

“Excuse you,” Atobe sniffed. “I find it offensive that you seem to have so little faith in me.”

Shishido sighed, looking up and down the hall. “Fine,” he said. “What about her?”

Atobe glanced toward where the other boy was pointing.

“You must be joking,” he said, lip curling. “She looks like she hasn't brushed her hair in at least two hours.”

“It's just curly.”

“It looks hideous.”

“Alright,” Shishido said, doing his best to keep the annoyed tone out of his voice. “What about her?”

“Too fat.”

“Her?”

“Too skinny.”

“Okay, that one then.”

“Way too tall.”

“Her?”

“She looks like a man.”

“...She does not.”

“Face it, Shishido,” Atobe said with a dramatic sigh. “There's simply no one here who is possibly worthy of my time.” He frowned. “When did Hyoutei start accepting any old riffraff off the street?” he asked. “I'll have to speak to the director about this.”

“You're impossible,” Shishido said. “And we've got class. Come on.”

* * *

By lunchtime, Atobe still didn't have a date. Not that he was worried. He knew he only had to smile at a girl and they'd turn into a puddle at this feet. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was that apparently Shishido was right.

He was far, far too picky.

“Had any luck yet?” Oshitari asked as they sat down at what just happened to be the best table in the cafeteria. Atobe had kicked some upperclassmen away from it on the first day of classes, claiming that the location of the table would be the most aesthetically pleasing for him because it was in the direct path of the biggest window, and the mid-afternoon sunlight that streamed through just happened to alight his hair in quite a beneficial manner.

Gakuto had complained that the sun blinded him while he was trying to eat.

Atobe corrected him by saying that was just his magnificent brilliance.

“I haven't asked anyone,” Atobe said, picking through the lunch his mother had lovingly had the maids pack for him.

Oshitari blinked, looking – in Atobe's opinion – much like a retarded owl behind his gigantic glasses lenses. “If you wanted to go to the movies with me that badly, you only had to ask.”

“You would only be so lucky,” Atobe said loftily, as Jiroh plopped down in the seat beside him.

“What's going on?” he asked, words interspersed with a yawn.

“Oshitari doesn't think I can get a date,” Atobe replied.

Jiroh rubbed at his eyes, and then crossed his arms across the top of the table and rested his head on them. “Why not?”

“Apparently I haven't gone out in awhile,” Atobe muttered.

“Well,” Jiroh said, yawning again, “it's been six months, you know.”

“He knows better than you do,” Oshitari said, smirking.

“That's so not true,” Atobe said. “There was my father's Christmas party--”

“You brought your cousin,” Jiroh murmured, and then promptly drifted off to sleep.

Oshitari chuckled. “Try the other one,” he said.

Atobe glared at him and stole some of his sushi when he wasn't looking.

* * *

Last period, and Atobe was beginning to wonder if maybe he should start worrying. Which was silly. Because it wasn't like he'd been getting turned down all day, he just hadn't bothered to ask anyone. And there were plenty of girls in his class. It wouldn't be a problem trying to find someone.

He glanced down the aisle, trying to decide which lovely lady he should grace with his presence, and found...no one. A girl in the front row looked okay from the back, but Atobe knew that she had glasses the size of Oshitari's and a big nose to go with them. Another girl's hair was too frizzy. Someone else had a such a large smile that Atobe often thought she was planning on eating him whenever she looked his way.

It was a shame, really, that there were so few decent women in the world.

Shishido kicked at his ankle. “What about her?” he hissed when Atobe frowned at him. “The one with the braids.”

“Okay, no,” Atobe whispered back. “One, she has braids. Two, Oshitari dated her for a week in middle school.

Shishido blinked. “Does that matter?”

“I'm not dating his leftovers,” Atobe said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You're running out of time,” Shishido said. “You need to just ask someone.”

“I have plenty of time,” Atobe said. “He said I have all day, I assume that means during practice, too.”

“But you'll be practicing during practice,” Shishido muttered.

“My fanclub will be there.” Atobe paused. “I've never actually paid attention to them – are any of them good looking?”

Shishido rolled his eyes and held his hand up to his head like he was shooting a gun. “So do you prefer pink or purple?” he asked after a moment.

“Periwinkle, actually. Why?”

“I'm helping pick a dress for you to wear tonight,” Shishido said. “And I remember Oshitari's sister always wore a lot of pink.”

“Oh. Midnight blue, in that case.” Atobe flicked his hair back, grinning. “I find that darker colors help my features stand out more. And they really bring out the color of my eyes.”

Shishido let his head drop down to the desk, where he continued to bang it off the wood a few times in an attempt to drown out Atobe's voice.

“Although,” Atobe continued, oblivious, “I won't be needing the dress. Because I'll have a date.”

“I'm sure you will,” Shishido mumbled to the desk.

* * *

Tennis practice rolled around and Atobe was still utterly dateless. Though this was more because he'd made it a habit to completely ignore the cheering, drooling girls huddled up in the stands of the tennis courts while he was playing, and so ingrained in his head was this that he forgot that today he wasn't supposed to be ignoring them. By the time he'd remembered that he was supposed to be talking them up and making one of them the luckiest girl in the country, most of the (he assumed) good ones had left, leaving only a few stragglers who Atobe wouldn't dare be caught in a movie theater with. Or a restaurant. Hell, the only place he might be willing to be seen at with them was the pound, and that was only because he'd be leaving them there.

“I've hit a roadblock, Jiroh,” he said, sitting underneath a giant umbrella and sipping a strawberry daiquiri one of his servants had handed him. He looked over his shoulder at one of the girls seated a ways behind him. “I can either ask that girl with the huge front teeth out, or I can hope that all of the numbers I've got in my little black book lead to attractive females and not a monster from the black lagoon or something the cat dragged in.”

Jiroh snored helpfully in reply.

“Good point,” Atobe murmured. “Women. They're always changing their appearance, I don't think I trust any of them to look the same as they did when I first got their number.”

Which only left the girl with the big front teeth.

“Dresses aren't so bad,” Atobe said. “I've got great legs for it, at least.”

Jiroh mumbled something incomprehensible and rolled over on the bench.

Atobe frowned at him. “You're no help at all,” he said, and looked out across the courts to where Oshitari was playing a singles match with Gakuto.

He was still watching when one of the upperclassmen stomped over to him.

“Hey. Freshman,” whoever the hell it was said – it wasn't as if Atobe could be bothered to remember all their names. “You're supposed to be out there picking up balls.”

Atobe looked at him. “You have two hands, ahn?” he said silkily. “I'm sure you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself. It's not difficult,” he continued, when the other boy tried to say something. “The baskets are right over there, and it shouldn't even take you too long.” He stood up with a flourish, handing his empty glass to the befuddled boy. “If you need help, there are several other people milling about who I'm sure would be more than willing.” He pointed in the direction of a group of more upperclassmen, and then without waiting for a reply, headed off to the showers.

Leaving practice early wasn't normally something Atobe did, but then again he didn't normally lose to people either, so there were clearly more pressing matters at hand. Oshitari would never let him hear the end of it if he didn't find a date in the next hour or so.

He mulled it over while he was in the shower, taking his time because he was the only one in there. He could command the entire Hyoutei student population with a snap of his fingers, yet there wasn't one girl he could think of that he'd be willing to take out? Was that even possible?

With an annoyed huff, Atobe shut off the shower and shook the excess water from his hair. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back out to his locker to grab his clothes-

-and promptly halted in his tracks when he saw Oshitari already seated on the bench.

“...” said Atobe, blinking at the other boy. And because that was hardly an acceptable greeting, he quickly added, “...Can I help you?”

“Just thought I'd check and see if you'd gotten anywhere yet,” Oshitari drawled, pulling one foot up onto the bench and draping his arm over his knee. Atobe swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat.

“I've gotten plenty of places,” he said. “I've got an entire plan worked out, in fact, which I'm about to put into action. So if you would kindly remove your very much unwanted presence from the front of my locker so that I can get dressed, I'll be able to carry out said plan.”

Oshitari smirked and shrugged. “As you wish,” he said, standing from the bench, and what happened next is the sort of thing that only occurs when the Entire Universe has something against you. Because only on very rare occasions were there empty shampoo bottles on the floor of the Hyoutei locker room, as they were normally picked up and thrown away by the cleaning service that visited daily. And only on even more rare occasions do normally quite graceful people slip on the empty shampoo bottles that shouldn't even be there in the first place. And never, never did the freshmen of the tennis team get to leave before the upperclassmen, so under no circumstances should they have all been heading for the locker room at the very moment that said normally graceful person was slipping on the empty shampoo bottle that, had they had a competent cleaning service who knew how to do their job, should have been thrown away the day before anyway.

It was, Atobe decided, quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of his life.

And he would be suing the cleaning service as soon as he managed to get Oshitari off of him.

“Whoa,” Shishido said, apparently frozen in the locker room doorway because he hadn't moved a muscle since he'd opened the door approximately thirty seconds ago. Jiroh was behind him, eyes wide as he stood on his tiptoes in an attempt to look over Shishido's shoulder. Beyond him Atobe could see Taki, whose face had gone a brilliant shade of red.

It probably matched his own, actually. Or it would, except Atobe didn't blush. This was common knowledge. He didn't blush, he did not get flustered, and he did not, under absolutely any conditions, lose face in front of the rest of his team.

“This isn't what it looks like,” he managed to say, proud that he was able to hold eye contact and his voice was steady. Then Oshitari chuckled, face buried in Atobe's neck, and Atobe decided he'd rather die than stand here trying to explain the awkward situation he'd been found in.

“Oh yeah?” Shishido said, shock gone from his eyes and instead replaced with an amused, devious sort of look. “What is it, then?”

Atobe clenched his teeth. “Oshitari slipped,” he said, wishing he could push the other boy away but afraid his towel would fall off his hips if he did. “Like the clumsy oaf that he is--”

“Yuushi isn't clumsy,” Gakuto said, poking his head out from underneath Shishido's arm.

“He is today!” Atobe snapped.

It was something of a lie and Oshitari knew it – he was still laughing and puffing hot breaths against Atobe's skin – but explaining just exactly how they'd gotten into this position wasn't exactly an appealing option either, because it would waste time that Atobe would rather spend trying to untangle his limbs from the other boy. That, and the wall was cold against his naked back and was making him rather uncomfortable.

“Do you mind?” he snapped at the rest of his teammates, and they finally scattered, Shishido sticking his tongue out at him as he closed the door behind himself.

Atobe made a mental to note to make him run fifty laps as soon as he was captain again and what the hell, why was Oshitari trying to snake his hands around Atobe's waist?!

“Excuse me,” Atobe said, shoving a hand against Oshitari's chest. “Exactly what do you think you're doing?”

“You don't have a date yet,” Oshitari said, ignoring Atobe's question. He backed away finally, leaving Atobe scrambling to keep his towel from falling, and eyed him up and down.

“I still have time,” Atobe said. “I'm not wearing a dress.” He paused, and added as an afterthought, “In public.”

Oshitari chuckled. “You could have asked someone at any point today.”

Atobe turned up his nose. “Maybe I didn't feel like it,” he said. “Maybe I'd prefer being stuck in your company rather than having to sit through what could possibly be a painfully awkward evening with some girl I don't even know.”

“Hmm.” Oshitari smirked a bit, tilting his head to the side. “I hear you think midnight blue is your color.”

“Or periwinkle,” Atobe said absently. “Lavender maybe- But that's beside the point.” He leveled a glare on the other boy. “I don't feel like asking out a girl and I'm well within my rights to say no to this entire ordeal.”

“Technically,” Oshitari said slowly, “I didn't say you had to ask out a girl.”

Atobe stared at him. “That's preposterous,” he said. “This entire thing happened because you asked--”

“When the last time you'd gone on a date with a girl was, I know,” Oshitari interrupted. “But the actual deal I made with you was that you only had to get a date for tonight. I didn't specify...anything else.”

“You implied,” Atobe said, crossing his arms. He absently took a step forward.

“I'm a master of twisting words.”

“That's not even slightly clever. I just overlooked what you said, it's nothing to be proud of.”

“I didn't say I was proud.” Oshitari raised his eyebrows. “So, Atobe. Dress? Or...”

Atobe took another step forward, and was quite pleased when Oshitari didn't step back. “Go to the movies with me,” he said abruptly.

Oshitari grinned. “Alright.” He stared at Atobe for a moment. Atobe stared back.

Somewhere in the background, Atobe could hear his teammates grumbling about having to wait outside.

“Well,” Atobe said, just as Oshitari had started to lean the slightest bit forward. “It seems I have a date for tonight, ahn?” He smirked, pushing the other boy out of the way, and headed for his locker. “I should probably start getting ready for it--”

Having your backed pressed up against the lockers was, for some reason, infinitely better than having it pressed up again the wall.

“Oy!” came Shishido's voice through the door, accompanied by some angry pounding. “Some of us still have to take showers, you know!”

Rather reluctantly, Atobe broke away from Oshitari. “And some of us are lucky enough to have one or two or five of them in our homes,” he called back. Oshitari chuckled. The pounding paused for a second, and then picked up again with even more force behind it.

“My bag is in there, lameass! The door's not even locked, I can come in, you know! I don't want to see anything gross, though, so you'd better be decent!”

“I think we should just stay in tonight,” Oshitari said, ignoring the pounding completely. “We can watch a movie at my house.”

Atobe arched his eyebrows. “A sappy romance?”

“You know you love them,” Oshitari said.

“You know you're delusional,” Atobe returned, a grin stretching over his lips. “Although I like the sound of being alone in your room instead of being stuffed into a movie theater with the rest of Tokyo's teenage population.”

Oshitari laughed. “It's cheaper, too.”

“Yes, that's an entire one-thousand yen I could be putting in my savings account.”

“Besides,” Oshitari said, drawing Atobe in for another kiss just as Shishido finally got fed up and threw the door open. “You said you wouldn't wear the dress in public.”

“Oh, lame!”

FIN

Happy Spring trinityhelix!

nickelodeon — Sat, 28 Apr 2007 02:08:48 GMT

Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Warnings: introspection
Pairing: hints of Tachibana/Fuji
Requester: trinityhelix
A/N: Based on anime canon, as I've only read the very beginning of the manga. I don't know that this qualifies as fluff. XD I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Waiting Room

Brown eyes stared out the window into the gray blur of the afternoon as rain pelted the glass in a rhythmic backdrop to the periodic squeak of gurney wheels, the passing cadences of the nurses' conversations, and the static hum of florescent bulbs overhead. Tachibana Kippei had nothing particular against hospitals. He didn't fear them or feel uncomfortable. The staff was generally pleasant, the room was clean, and An saw to it that he was well-cared for. In fact, his younger sister had visited that morning and would likely be back again in the evening. The corners of his mouth turned up a bit. She worried too much. No, it wasn't the hospital that made him uncomfortable - it was the sitting. All day, he laid in bed, staring out the window, waiting. At least, he felt that he was waiting; a wait for recovery, a wait for the next check up, a wait for a visitor... he wasn't sure what he was waiting for, until it, or rather, he walked in the door.

Seigaku's Fuji Syuusuke politely entering with a bouquet and a smile as reserved as it was welcoming was possibly the last thing that Tachibana could have expected. Yet, his restless feeling of anticipation disappeared as soon as he turned to greet this person who couldn't quite be called a friend or a rival. An acquaintance? The strangeness of someone he knew so little about visiting him was ever-present in Tachibana's mind, a shadow of a thought, but it was nothing compared to the awareness that came over him when he looked at blue eyes that were all at once soft and stirring. He felt the rough of the cheap quality cotton sheets all the more acutely and fought his urge to fidget against them, instead inviting Fuji in. His hands fell to his lap, onto the magazine that he'd tried and failed to read all morning. The Finals should've been that day. Seigaku should've been playing Rikkai at that moment, as Fuji offered a polite excuse and entered. The match must have been canceled due to weather. He clung to standard polite acknowledgments to cover his nervousness and embarrassment. It was bad enough that his own team saw him in this state, but now, people from rival schools were visiting as well. A loss wasn't something to be ashamed of; he'd taught his team that. But then, his loss was different. His loss let that same team down. His loss put him out of commission with only a possible hope of recovery for the Nationals. He'd often wondered if that's what he was waiting for - for Nationals to come and go without him.

Tachibana watched long-fingered hands place flowers in a vase. The movements held an artless grace that lacked the precision of professional floral arrangers, but was somehow more soothing for it. The glass vase made almost no noise as Seigaku's genius player set it on the table next to his hospital bed.

Talk flowed between them, light and easy, about tennis, of course: the cancellation of the match; Kamio and An. Slowly, Tachibana felt his nervousness ebb in the continued attention of Fuji's calm, his soft voice, his gentle features. His nervousness abated, but his vulnerability continued to stare at him, a large white cast that marked his failure to his team. As if sensing his discomfort, Fuji asked about his injury. Could he remain casual when he answered, as thoughts and concerns chased themselves around in his head? Would it be healed by Nationals? He would start rehabilitation soon enough, but would he recover in time? That he lost his game, loosing the match for the team, ached as a constant pain in his stomach that often made it difficult to eat. Getting injured during that loss was worse than humiliating. He'd abandoned his team when they needed him. An and Kamio both told him otherwise, but he knew it was the truth. By allowing himself to get injured and not being able to insure recovery for Nationals, he'd as good as abandoned them, inadvertently or otherwise. That wasn't to say that he doubted his team. Of course, he had faith in them. They were talented, but they were young and still needed guidance. And they didn't have a Coach Ryuuzaki or a Vice-captain Oishi to look after them in his absence. No, he felt no bitterness towards this person who'd come to visit or his team, and somehow, his voice managed to convey that sentiment. He tried not to sound as worried as he was, leaning back against the inclined mattress with his arms crossed behind his head, but he knew that Fuji would be able to hear it.

Oddly, when Fuji said, "Don't worry," he didn't. With two brief sentences, Fuji managed to settle Tachibana's anxiety. It was peculiar that something he knew, something he'd reminded himself repeatedly managed to calm him when said by someone else, by Fuji Syuusuke. He'd heard often that Fuji and his trademark smile were cold and offsetting, but understood now that wasn't the truth. In those words, succinct though they were, he'd felt a warmth and empathy that he hadn't anticipated.

Looking up at Fuji, Tachibana felt a protective surge as fierce as it was sudden and surprising. Why he'd come, Tachibana didn't know, but he'd found a comfort in the quiet company that Fuji offered, in that brief period when Tachibana hadn't felt the weight of his duty.

"Fuji. Rikkai's strength is real." His warnings came out, uncharacteristically, before he'd completely thought them through, and he immediately offered apology for his presumptuousness. This was Fuji Syuusuke, the genius player with tennis moves that most people couldn't even begin to imagine. He didn't need advise or warnings. Tachibana tried to tell himself that Fuji only came to the hospital to assess the amount of damage, to rate Kirihara's, and by extension Rikkai Dai's, skill.

But no, Fuji was thanking him and bowing in his seat in a way that was so proper and so humble that it made Tachibana's stomach, that had sunk so low since his last match, turn over. Fuji stood and placed those long fingers, which had gently handled the flowers, on Tachibana's shoulder to offer additional thanks, and he was surprised by the firmness of the grip, the strength in the delicate hand. He tried to get past the awkwardness he felt when Fuji thanked him, when Fuji'd been the one the visit him in the hospital. The proximity, the thanks, they set a buzz in his skin. The low-quality cotton was once again rough against the backs of his legs as he shifted. And then Fuji was distracted by his grip-tape, asking without preamble if he could have it... and it was just grip-tape. It cost no more than a few hundred yen. He could pick some up any time at any number of sporting goods stores. But suddenly, that grip-tape seemed so very important, and as his fingers felt the rubbery smoothness of it when he picked the roll up, Tachibana realized he wanted Fuji to have it, wanted him to play with it for him. It was taken carefully from his hand, and though their skin never touched, he felt a spark of connection. For long moments after Tachibana gave Fuji his grip-tape, the two looked at each other, and Tachibana tried to will Fuji to be cautious against the unpredictability of Kirihara's playing, tried to ask Fuji to be careless enough play for him and to win for him, tried to understand why a single visit and an exchange of grip-tape should make him want to tell a person anything with a look alone.

Then, the moment was gone and just as quickly, Fuji was, as well. Tachibana leaned back against the overstuffed, lumpy pillow, having given up the pretext of reading, and lost himself in his thoughts. He couldn't feel the sheets anymore, nerve-endings all humming with the last look Fuji'd given him, as if he'd understood everything Tachibana couldn't give voice to. His stomach churned anew; he still wouldn't feel like eating. An would be angry with him. She'd be back later, probably with Kamio in tow. Tachibana felt about as up to talking as he did eating, and didn't relish the mild confrontation that would likely happen on behalf of his health. With a sigh that was more a tired exhale, he let his head fall to the side, to see the bouquet that seemed oddly bright in the starkness of the hospital room. The match had been postponed for a week... Seigaku would play Rikkai... Fuji would play... all he could do was wait.

Happy spring, marksykins!

takewing — Fri, 27 Apr 2007 21:06:15 GMT

Title: Oh, Karupin
Recipient's name: marksykins!
Rating: PG
Pairing: Inui/Kaidoh
Disclaimer: Um. I don't own them? ):
Artist's notes: This is more tragic than fluffy, I fear. I can only imagine the Inui juice Kaidoh is going to be ingesting after this little fiasco...and okay, that was not meant to be naughty. STOP IT!

Happy spring everybody!

takewing — Thu, 26 Apr 2007 23:50:52 GMT

Title: Things You Can Learn From J-Pop Idols
Recipient's name: Everybody under the sun!
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Tomo/Sakuno
Warnings: Excessive j-pop references. Girlslash.
Author's notes: ______, I hope you like this. I'm sorry it's so ridiculous. Thanks to my beta for looking this over.

"I read on the internet that they all make out," Tomo says authoritatively, gesturing to the magazines scattered across Sakuno's floor. The pages are covered with pictures of the boys of KAT-TUN, NewS, and Arashi, all of them sparkly and touching each other in ways that make Sakuno feel a little nervous and squirmy. Her eyes widen and she looks at Tomo.

"They do what?" Sakuno asks, nervously glancing between Tomo and the pictures of the boys.

"They kiss! And sometimes they even do-" Tomo lowers her voice and leans in conspiratorially, "other stuff."

Sakuno chooses to ignore the little flip-flops in her stomach when she thinks about what "other stuff" could mean, and instead asks Tomo where she read this. Tomo pulls Sakuno over to her computer and pulls up a website, dense with text. Sakuno skims it, seeing things like "Jin pushes Kame against the wall, kissing him passionately" and "Ohno runs his fingers tenderly through Nino's hair, pulling him close." She turns to Tomo and says, slowly, "this stuff's not real, though, right?"

Tomo shrugs. "Who cares, it's hot, right?"

Sakuno blushes. She's never really thought about stuff like that, but Tomo seemed so knowledgeable that she didn't want to embarrass herself, so she just nodded, staring at her hands in her lap.

Tomo doesn't seem to notice Sakuno's nervousness, and she's moved back to the magazines strewn on the floor. "I think I like Kame and Jin together best," she's saying casually. Sakuno thinks this makes sense, though. Tomo's always liked KAT-TUN the best. Sometimes they make Sakuno nervous, though. She likes NewS and Arashi better. KAT-TUN has scared her a little ever since she found that video of -- well, there were actually a few videos that scared her.

Sakuno slides down from the chair onto the floor, picking up one of the magazines. She's still blushing profusely, and Tomo looks over at her and giggles. "Come on, Sakuno, don't tell me you haven't thought about--" Tomo stops, thinking about the way Sakuno acts around Ryoma-sama, or around any boy for that matter. Tomo smiles. This is just another wonderful opportunity for her to take Sakuno under her wing and impart some of the sage knowledge that she has gathered in her 12 years on earth. She leans over and puts her arm around Sakuno, pulling her in close. "It's okay to think they're hot, you know?" She says quietly.

Sakuno bites her lip and feels the prickling of further redness in her face. "But... two boys..."

Tomo laughs. "Boys think two girls is hot, too. I read it on the internet." Tomo is proud of her mastery of the internet. It tells her about lots of things she wouldn't know otherwise.

"But... I don't get it..." Sakuno says, getting ever more flustered. She wriggles out of Tomo's grasp, smoothing her skirt free of wrinkles.

"I don't really get it either," Tomo admits, "but I know I like it."

Sakuno's not sure if she's understanding this right. Did Tomo just say she liked two girls together, too? Or was she still talking about boys? Sakuno struggles to figure out which one she would have preferred Tomo to be talking about, but she can't come up with an answer that doesn't make her squirm. Her palms are sweating, and she wipes them slowly and nervously on the carpet. Tomo has turned her attention back to the magazines, but she soon leans over to show Sakuno a particularly nice shot of NewS all shirtless and laying on each other on the beach.

"The more boys the better, huh Sakuno-chan?" Tomo says with a giggle.

Sakuno takes a breath, face serious. "Did you mean earlier... I mean... when you said you like it... did you mean boys together, or... girls?" She barely manages the last word; it comes out as more of a squeak.

Tomo looks thoughtful for a moment. "I'd never really thought about girls before." She shrugs. "Can't hurt to give it a chance though, right?" And then Tomo's leaning really close and brushing her lips against Sakuno's. Sakuno freezes up. Her first thought is that this is her first kiss. Her second thought is that maybe she should be an active participant. She doesn't want to have a bad first kiss memory. It takes until after they've parted before Sakuno thinks oh my god, I just kissed a girl.

When Sakuno opens her eyes, Tomo is staring at her, eyebrows raised. "That wasn't bad," she announces, "but you really should work on being more responsive. Let's try again." She leans back in before Sakuno can say anything in protest.

The second kiss catches Sakuno less off guard, but she still doesn't really know what to do. When Tomo's tongue pokes out and swipes across her bottom lip, though, Sakuno responds instinctively, letting her mouth fall open slightly and making a little whimpering sound. Tomo lifts a hand to brush through Sakuno's hair; the feeling of fingertips on her scalp, massaging lightly and slowly, unwinds a lot of the tension that's been building in Sakuno ever since the start of this conversation. She tilts her head back, leaning into Tomo's hand. Tomo watches Sakuno's reaction for a moment, brings her other hand up to do the same. She leans in again with a smile, pressing a kiss to the side of Sakuno's mouth.

Since Sakuno seems too absorbed to concentrate on more kissing, Tomo crawls forward, pushing Sakuno onto her back with more force than Sakuno expects from her. She finds herself laying there with Tomo hovering above her, looking for a split second like she doesn't know what to do next. True to form, however, Tomo comes up with something quickly enough. She rolls her hips slowly down against Sakuno's, making her shudder, half from nervousness and half from... something else she doesn't really want to figure out right now. Sakuno worms her way out from under Tomo and asks, face red, "what... what was that?"

"Oh, that?" Tomo says casually, "That's just something I picked up from watching videos of Jin." She smiles and flashes a victory sign.

Sakuno thinks maybe she likes KAT-TUN more than she thought, after all.

Happy Spring crowitched!

nickelodeon — Thu, 26 Apr 2007 14:39:21 GMT

Recipient: crowitched
Pairing(S): Kabaji/Atobe and Shishido/Ootori
Rating: G

Note to dial-up users: Three images under the cut.

Happy spring, playthefool!

takewing — Thu, 26 Apr 2007 04:02:17 GMT

Title: Psychological Advantage
Recipient's name: playthefool
Rating: G
Pairing(s): Momoshiro/Kaidoh
Author's notes: Happy Spring_Fluff, playthefool! Thanks to my Ah-Un beta pair.

"So," Momoshiro says after a long pause, "what now?"

"You're captain now, idiot." Kaidoh rolls his eyes. He sneaks a glance at the seniors, who have just said their farewells and are now bowing to Ryuzaki. Inui-senpai catches his eye and gives a dorky little wave; Kaidoh jerks his gaze back to Momoshiro with a snort.

"I know that!" Momoshiro snaps. "I know! But what are we going to do?"

"That's what you're supposed to know! You're the captain!"

They stand in silence for a few seconds longer. The first years are doing swing practice; the second years are running laps, except for them. Echizen is standing nearby too, cap tugged low and one hand shoved in his pocket, the other bouncing his racket lightly against his shoulder.

"Oi," Momoshiro says finally, and Kaidoh lets out a soft hiss. "If I'm Tezuka-buchou now, does that make you Fuji-senpai?"

"Of course not!" Kaidoh hisses harder, shoulders hunching against Momoshiro's thoughtful gaze.

"You are my rival," he continues, stroking his chin, "and you can be kind of creepy, and you do have that strange feather-tipped thing in your locker…"

"SHUT UP," Kaidoh says, punching Momoshiro hard in the arm.

Off to the side he hears Echizen say, "Buchou, you can't leave me with these people."

******

"You should be my vice captain," Momoshiro says later that afternoon. They're at the burger place, of course, since Kaidoh let Momoshiro pick to celebrate his captaincy. "Definitely."

"Are you retarded?" Kaidoh flicks the pickles off his burger, then eyes the diced onions, trying to decide whether or not it's worth it. "Echizen should be it."

"Echizen's too short!" Momoshiro announces, plucking Kaidoh's pickles up off his tray and eating them with a handful of fries. "And grumpy. And busy going on dates with Bu—I mean, Tezuka-senpai."

"I'm sitting right here," Echizen says, then adds, "Oops" and shoves Momoshiro's soda into his lap.

Definitely not worth it, Kaidoh decides, slapping the bun back on his burger and taking a bite, ignoring the hopping dancing Momoshiro is doing while he hollers about frostbite on delicate bits.

Echizen and Kaidoh chew in companionable silence while Momoshiro goes to refill his soda, until Echizen says, "It's okay, right?"

"Sure," Kaidoh chews some more, "you'll grow."

"Kaidoh-senpai."

"Be vice captain." Kaidoh swallows and turns to watch Momoshiro get in a fight with the ice dispenser. He's definitely losing to it. "Don't go pro until after you're captain."

"Yes, senpai," Ryoma answers. Satisfied, Kaidoh starts opening his second burger, and when Momoshiro returns and asks if they're ready to fight to the death, he flicks his pickles at their new captain's head.

He almost feels bad when Momoshiro slips on an ice cube and goes down in a flail of limbs and root beer, but it doesn't stop him and Echizen from laughing until orange soda comes out their noses.

******

It seems like no time at all before their third year is starting. Momoshiro is well-settled into his role as the loveable captain, while Echizen terrorizes the new batch of first years with laps and swing practice because he's bitter that he isn't taller than them yet.

Kaidoh trains, then trains some more, checking in less often than before with Inui-senpai now that he is in high school, but often enough that Inui-senpai can't lecture him too much about working his body too hard.

It's routine, and it's very peaceful, until Momoshiro interrupts Kaidoh's perfectly peaceful lunch by barging into his classroom unannounced.

"Oi, viper," Momoshiro slaps down a crumpled sheet of notebook paper on Kaidoh's desk, "look at this."

The paper looks like it's spent a few days slumming it in Momoshiro's shoe locker, and Kaidoh eyes it distastefully before reaching to flatten it out. Momoshiro plunks himself down backwards in the chair in front of Kaidoh's desk. "I'm not your vice captain, you know."

"He doesn't need to see it." Momoshiro waves his hand, watching for Kaidoh's reaction with sharp eyes. "What do you think?"

"This is the lineup for the Gyokurin match." Kaidoh smoothes out the paper with the heel of his hand. "Echizen is singles one."

"That's why he doesn't need to see it." Momoshiro leans closer, grinning. "What do you think?"

Kaidoh reads the rest of the paper, then reads it again. He looks up, narrows his eyes at Momoshiro's grin, then reads it a third time. "You want us to play doubles two?"

"It's genius, right?" Momoshiro makes a fist and pounds it into his other palm. "Genius!"

"It's MORONIC!" Kaidoh snaps. "You can't trap both your second and third best players in doubles two!"

"Because it's much better to put the worst players we have in the first three spots," Momoshiro retorts, raising an eyebrow. "Much better. We just need a cool doubles name!"

Kaidoh splutters, trying to get his indignance and incredulity at Momoshiro's idiocy all into the same sentence as the fact that he has totally not agreed to this. Momoshiro, meanwhile, spouts a string of increasingly horrific nicknames.

"Or the Super Ultra Golden Pair! Wait, I got it!" Momoshiro's eyes sparkle, and Kaidoh can only watch in horrified fascination. "I got it, we can be the Ultimate Diam—where are you going?"

"I'm going to find Coach Ryuzaki!" Kaidoh yells over his shoulder, already at the door. "Maybe she can talk some sense into you."

******

"It's actually a pretty good plan," Ryuzaki says, and Kaidoh shoves his hands in his pockets and grunts. "It's a gamble, but, if you two take the first match decisively, it might create a psychological advantage."

"Psychological advantage!" Momoshiro crows, crossing his arms. "Besides, viper, it's only Gyokurin. Echizen and I beat them in nothing flat last year!"

Kaidoh glares until Momoshiro chuckles sheepishly and rubs the back of his head.

"What's the matter?" he asks. "You don't want to be my doubles partner? What if we get matching bandanas?"

"Shut up!" Kaidoh scuffs his sneaker against the office floor for a moment. "You're the captain aren't you?"

When he finally looks up from the floor, Momoshiro is grinning at him, fist held out. Kaidoh taps his knuckles against Momoshiro's and resigns himself to the next few weeks as a member of the Ultimate Diamond Pair.

"Genius," Momoshiro says.

******

Kaidoh bears with Momoshiro's Super Doubles Training Menu Delight~ for two and a half days before the Synchro Burger Eating training drives him to send a discreet text message to the big guns.

"Thank you, senpai," Kaidoh says, bowing to Inui. Half a dozen other high school students shush him, because Inui has spent his lunches holed up in the library practically since the moment he set foot in the high school section.

Inui pushes a thin notebook across the table towards Kaidoh with two fingers. "It's no trouble. It was a welcome diversion from my reviewing."

Kaidoh is about to apologize for troubling his senpai when he looks down and notices the notebook is labeled "Ultimate Diamond Pair Training Menu." When he looks back up, Inui's smile is amused.

"Ultimate Diamond Pair," he says, "fight-o."

"That's not our name," Momoshiro hisses, and gets shushed again.

*******

Later, in the clubhouse, Kaidoh opens the notebook to discover that step number one is Synchro Burger Eating.

"What's that?" Momoshiro asks, looking over from beside his cubby, and Kaidoh heaves a resigned sigh and tosses the book at him.

*******

Over the next few days, Kaidoh also discovers the joys of Synchro Grunting, Synchro Trigonometry, and Synchro Pancake Flipping (with the assistance of Eiji-senpai).

He draws the line at Synchro DDR.

"People are staring!" he shouts when Momoshiro tells him to get a grip, and it doesn't help when the girl standing in the front of the crowd in front of the machine asks her friend what's going on, and the answer she gets is that there must be a battle for the captaincy of Seigaku.

"You're just pissed because you suck," Momoshiro says, but when Kaidoh stomps off the platform, he follows.

They stop at an oden stand on the way to the bus stop, and Kaidoh growls when Momoshiro tries to turn that into Synchro Noodle Slurping.

"Dammit!" Kaidoh finally shouts, slamming down his bowl. "Are you going to do this for everything until the match?"

"Yeah!" Momoshiro answers, blinking. "Yeah, that was definitely the plan. What's the matter, viper?"

Kaidoh has some half-formed thought in his brain about how they're rivals and not a doubles team, and if he has to go much longer without somebody losing something to somebody else, he's going to freak out.

But Momoshiro is still talking, rattling on about how they'll start their first tournament with a huge advantage and ride the momentum the whole way to Nationals, and he won't disappoint Tezuka-buchou at all, not at all, if they at least make it that far.

Kaidoh swallows his thoughts, and only grumbles, "You should go at your own pace, idiot," before picking his bowl back up.

Synchro Noodle Slurping kind of sucks, but Kaidoh keeps it to himself.

*******

"I'm going to be sick," Momoshiro says, clutching his racket with both hands. "Really, I really am going to be sick. I will be!"

Glancing over at shoulder at where Arai is making similar declarations to a flustered Kachirou, Kaidoh grits his teeth and punches Momoshiro in the shoulder. "All you have to do is go shake the other captain's hand!"

"I had jelly donuts for breakfast," Momoshiro informs him, then gives Echizen's shoulder a shove. "You go do it! Do it!"

"Don't wanna." Echizen yawns, cap tipping back. "Hurry up, Momochan-buchou, so I can go nap."

Kaidoh helps out by sticking out his foot so that Momoshiro trips and stumbles forward. He shoots a dirty look over his shoulder, but the return of his jelly donuts seems forgotten as he jogs forward to greet the Gyokurin captain, who is tapping his foot by the net.

Even across the court, Kaidoh can hear the captain making a snide comment about Seigaku's captain being in the D2 slot.

It's because of all the practice that he and Momoshiro execute a flawless Synchro Obscene Hand Gesture.

The match afterwards is almost anti-climactic.

******

"We're going to Nationals!" Momoshiro whoops at their celebration at Kawamura Sushi. Kawamura and a suspiciously convenient Fuji are pumping Echizen for every detail of the winning matches, leaving Kaidoh to deal with Momoshiro's antics.

"Idiot, it was only the first round!" he says, but he's grinning too, no matter how much he tries to look stern and scold Momoshiro out of hugging the breath out of any first year he can reach.

"Synchro Stupid Grin," Fuji says, leaning his chin on his hands and smiling winningly at them. "Just like the Ultimate Diamond Pair."

Kaidoh is opening his mouth to hiss at Fuji-senpai, but just then Kawamura wisely sits a tray of eel down between Momoshiro and Kaidoh, distracting him. Kaidoh reaches over and bangs chopsticks with Momoshiro since they are reaching for the same piece.

They stare at each other for a second, before Kaidoh sighs with resignation and asks, "Synchro Eel Sushi?"

"As if!" Momoshiro snorts, slapping Kaidoh's chopsticks out of the way with his own. "I won't lose to you!"

Things are suddenly back to normal, and Kaidoh snickers as he kicks Momoshiro in the shin hard, making him choke on his sushi, and then shoves two pieces of eel at once into his own mouth.

A few seconds later, Kachirou and Arai get to demonstrate their own prowess at the Synchro Heimlich Maneuver.

Happy spring, senshixdoukeshi!

takewing — Wed, 25 Apr 2007 21:54:57 GMT

Title: Sharing Data
Recipient's name: senshixdoukeshi
Rating: G
Pairing(s): Inui Sadaharu/Yanagi Renji (with special appearance by Horio Satoshi and Katou Kachiro)
Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis. Wouldn't be as wonderfully cracky and gay if I did. I'm just borrowing Konomi's characters and fluffing them up.
Warnings: Fluff...? I guess a Horio warning is wise as well. That's Horio for ya, you need warnings for his presence. But seriously, no real warnings here.
Artist's Notes: There we go. You have no idea what I had to go through to produce this. I almost didn't make it! But here you are, some fluffy Inui/Renji. Hope you like it! And have a happy spring, yo. Spring is the bestest time of the year. X3