The Impala's Trunk

Fic: "Open Your Eyes" (Fuji/Tachibana, Shinji/Kamio) Shounen-Ai, G

Sat, 30 Dec 2006 14:09:52 GMT

"Open Your Eyes
by: Trinity Helix
Feedback: Everything to trinity_cross@yahoo.com
Website: www.trinityhelix.com
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Characters: Tachibana, Fuji, Shinji, Kamio
Genre: Shounen-Ai, G
Warnings: None
Notes: For happiestwhen. This was my fic for the Tenipuri Fantasy Fest before my old laptop crashed and deleted everything. -_-;; Sorry, luv. This is half a year late but I hope you like it anyway...

Original Prompt: Fuji/Tachibana and Shinji/Kamio: "missing scene"; hospitals change people and... loosen inhibitions...? ;) any rating, angst a plus, no implied tezufuji plz, but other pairings welcome.

There are half a dozen daisies on Tachibana’s side table, white on white in a sterile room. His eyes are half-lidded and he dozes off at three o’ clock, lulled by the steady hum of the hospital vents.

He wakes only when he hears the dull monotone of Shinji’s voice and the scrape of a chair being pulled towards him. Kamio is there, too-- his eyes very blue and very wide, hands twisting in his lap.

It takes a while before Tachibana registers that Shinji is asking him a question, his lips mouthing words so quiet that the other boy has to strain to hear.

“...flowers?”

Tachibana stares at him for a while, blinking sleep from his eyes and running a calloused hand through his hair. He looks at Kamio for help, but he is red-faced and won’t meet Tachibana’s eyes.

Oh.

Flowers.

“Fuji dropped by a couple of days ago,” he replies, propping himself up on his elbows.

Shinji shrugs, strands of hair clinging to a pale cheek. “That was nice of him, bringing you flowers. I suppose he must have been trying to get information about that Kirihira from Rikkai-- did you tell him anything? I hope you didn’t cave just because he gave you flowers,” he says, then frowns. “Come to think of it, no one except An has given you anything since you came here. That’s really bad manners on our part, considering we’ve been here every day since you were admitted.”

Shinji pauses and fishes around in his pocket, then holds out a stick of gum. “Here,” he says. “Please get well soon, Tachibana-san.”

Tachibana takes the stick of gum, offering the other boy a game smile. “Thank you, Shinji,” he says. “I’ll do my best.”

“Tachibana-san!” Kamio rises from his seat. “Please get well soon!!”

He’s holding out a ballpoint pen and a (slightly squashed) chocorone. Tachibana suspects that he might’ve been sitting on it for the better part of the day, but takes it anyway.

“Thank you, Kamio-kun.”

His vice-captain looks almost mollified at that, but when he sits down again his eyes are invariably drawn towards the vase beside them.

“See, Akira,” Shinji says, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you didn’t spend all your lunch money on sweet bread and soda, we’d have enough money to buy Tachibana-san a proper ‘Get Well Soon’ gift…”

“Shinji!!” Kamio yells, then gets up and runs out of the room.

Shinji frowns. “He eats too many sweets, Tachibana-san,” he says. “Maybe you should put him on a diet-- I think he’s so high-strung because he’s got all that sugar in his system. Who knows, maybe he’ll have a different play style altogether if he’s not so hyper.”

Tachibana grins weakly.

It is almost relieving to see that nothing has changed in his absence.

***

Four days pass before Fuji drops by again, and he brings a fresh bouquet of flowers. Tachibana doesn’t know if it’s terribly appropriate for boys to bring other boys flowers, hospitals or no, but he also doesn’t think Fuji cares.

Fuji makes the appropriate small talk, chatting about how Seigaku is training hard for their upcoming match against Rikkai.

There is a pleasant smile on his face as always, never breaking, never wavering. Tachibana finds himself thinking that he is like an opposite Shinji-- whilst Ibu always seems to say exactly what he is thinking, Fuji says everything /but/.

Fuji crosses his legs self-consciously. “May I have this?” he asks.

He is holding up Tachibana’s grip tape.

“Please,” Kippei replies. It isn’t like he’ll have much use for it any time soon; he’d only brought it out of some automatic response while packing his hospital bag.

Fuji nods in thanks, pocketing the tape. “Kirihara will be a good match,” he says thoughtfully, almost as if he were talking about the weather. Almost as if Tachibana had not spent his last visit warning him to be careful.

“You can beat him,” Kippei replies evenly.

Fuji hums a little and says no more about the subject. An has brought candy, and he unwraps a piece and chews in silence.

Tachibana can’t make out what to think of the whole thing, and when a nurse drops by to tell him that visiting hours will be over soon, he sighs in relief.

Fuji smiles a little and nods, getting to his feet. “Thank you again for the grip tape, Tachibana,” he says. “Please get well soon.”

He’d absented himself from training for this, to see Tachibana, and he wonders if it is because of his innate need to fight for something other than himself or… something else.

Tachibana wasn’t Taka, after all, and neither were they childhood playmates like Saeki and he. Tachibana wasn’t a good friend or a teammate… he just /was/.

Fuji gives him a final enigmatic smile before walking out of the room.

Kippei watches him go.

“Fight well, Fuji,” he says.

But the other boy is already gone.

***

Come the day of Seigaku’s match against Rikkaidai, Fuji is ready.

He binds the grip of his tennis racquet with Tachibana’s tape, winding methodically from bottom to top.

Inui has just won and everyone is beaming; Echizen gives Fuji a look. The boy rarely speaks, but with his eyes he begs Fuji to win. He wants to play Sanada badly, and maybe he wants Seigaku to win just as much.

No matter; Fuji will not lose.

Later-- on his knees and badly bruised-- Fuji grits his teeth. He prays for strength to come to him; the will to move. There is a cut on his cheek and he opens his eyes, glaring at Kirihara across the net.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the other boy says. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I don’t know where the knuckle serve is going to hit-- the mystery is part of the technique.”

The referee looks at him uncertainly, but Kirihara bows and looks appropriately contrite.

Fuji gets to his feet.

His gaze drifts towards the stands-- past the line of Seigaku regulars and trainees-- to the Fudomine group watching him intently. An looks worried, chewing her bottom lip.

Fuji shakes his head; he can do this. He /will/ do this.

A shout from Rikkai’s stands distracts him, and he looks up to see Tachibana limping towards the entrance. The cane he is using doesn’t look very comfortable.

“Fuji!” He yells, and his teammates look up.

“Aniki!” says An. “You should be in the hospital!”

Tachibana ignores her for the moment, and he grabs the chain-link fence. “Fuji!” he calls. “Don’t give up. You can beat him-- just don’t give up!”

Fuji smiles, his eyes open. “I had no intention to,” he replies.

His eyes meet Kirihara’s across the net. “Sorry for the interruption,” he says. “Let’s continue.”

Kirihara nods in acquiescence but doesn’t reply. They switch courts, Fuji wiping the side of his mouth with his towel. It comes away tinged with red and damp with sweat.

It’s Fuji’s serve, now, and he hits the ball hard across the net. Kirihara’s eyes meet his for a split second before he returns it.

Fuji frowns; his form is wrong somehow, a little off around the chest and arms. If he hits it like that, Fuji thinks, it’ll go right past--

There is a startled yell as the ball hurtles towards Tachibana Kippei clear across the stands. He falls, the cane clattering from his grasp as An rushes to help him up.

The fence had thankfully caught Kirihara’s ball, but his intent was unmistakable.

Fuji opens his eyes, anger a slow burn in the pit of his stomach.

Kirihara will pay for that before the match is over.

***

The next time Fuji sees Tachibana is after he is out of the hospital. He stops by his house for a friendly game, wanting to test his mettle against a Nationals player.

Tachibana obliges him, and it isn’t long before two of Fuji’s triple counters are broken, a few not-so-subtle requests succeeding in drawing out Tachibana’s true play style.

Fuji’s eyes open when he sees the marked difference in the way Tachibana now moves, his muscles holding the coiled strength of a wild beast.

/So this,/ he thinks. /Is what I’ll be playing against./

“Be careful, Fuji,” Tachibana says quietly. “Or you might get hurt.”

It might have been a boast coming from anyone else, but Fuji knows otherwise. He merely nods in response, readying himself for Tachibana’s serve.

It’s almost like Taka-san’s hadokyuu, he thinks analytically, even as he moves to return it. The power behind it makes the air shiver with intensity, and it arches across the court. The perfect execution of a complex technique, and it is a perfect set-up for the Higuma Otoshi.

It is this that breaks Fuji’s third counter, the last of his special techniques. His racquet flies from his grip, strings broken.

If Tachibana is the standard of Nationals players, then Fuji will have to come up with something new if he wants to win. He is Seigaku’s second best player, perhaps third when Tezuka comes back, and he must maintain his level of play.

Across the court, Tachibana smiles.

The ball has managed to find its way back to his side even with Fuji’s broken racquet, and he makes no move to return it. “Very impressive, Fuji,” he says.

“Thank you, Tachibana,” Fuji replies, fingering the broken strings of his racquet. Tennis is the only thing on his mind; he wants to win. “Perhaps we can continue this match another time.”

Kippei nods, clear black eyes watching him keenly. “Of course.”

He puts his racquet away.

***

Their next meeting occurs during the Shitenhouji-Fudomine matches, and now it is Fuji who watches from the stands while Tachibana plays against Chitose Senri. They are evenly matched for the most part of the game, playing as closely as only old rivals possibly can.

Fuji thinks it almost beautiful.

He can hear Echizen muttering something under the brim of his cap, but Fuji’s open eyes don’t leave the courts.

“Fascinating,” he says.

On the floor, Tachibana has eyes only for Chitose. His left eye is a bruised mess, his mouth set in a determined smile. This is where the Nationals will end for Fudomine, he knows, and he will make it an end to be /remembered/.

He moves into a familiar pose, preparing for the very technique that changed both his and Senri’s lives.

“Rage Ball,” Chitose whispers, across the net. It is what he came to the Nationals to see.

He has a split second to prepare for it and then it is upon him, the racquet’s throat creating an impact that silences the stands.

His left eye is useless to him, but he bares his teeth, picks a ball, and prays.

It turns out to be the right one, and by the time he opens his eyes, he has returned an impossible play.

“Game and Match! Shitenhouji’s Chitose wins!”

***

Tachibana almost can’t bring himself to watch Seigaku’s match with Shitenhouji, but Fuji plays singles three against their captain and his resolve crumbles to dust.

He makes his way back to the stands with Kamio at his side, a myriad of cuts and bruises covered with newly-wound bandages.

The eye-patch Tachibana is sporting ruins his depth perception some, but he can still see well enough to watch Fuji play.

And, eventually, to watch Fuji lose.

Tachibana feels his stomach clench in sympathy as Fuji takes his seat on the players’ bench, draping his towel over his head. Even after upgrading his triple counters, even after the unveiling of a fourth… it was all for nothing.

Fuji’s head is bowed in defeat.

Momoshiro and Kaidoh are up next, and Tezuka nods at them.

He does not look at Fuji.

And Tachibana, for all that he respects Tezuka Kunimitsu, cannot help but see his lack. All players are equal, he knows, and defeat does not diminish this if a captain does not let it.

Even later, after the doubles two pair wins and Momoshiro gives Fuji a thumbs-up sign, his smile is strained.

Unable to stand it, he leaves Kamio and makes his way to Seigaku’s side. “Fuji,” he says.

The other boy does not turn, but he straightens up a bit. “Tachibana.”

The Fudomine captain opens his mouth to speak, to offer words of comfort, but as he watches Tezuka and Inui play against the Shitenhouji D1 pair, he realizes that it is not his place to do so.

So he lays a hand on Fuji’s shoulder instead.

Syuusuke tenses under his touch, but when no trite words are forthcoming, he slowly relaxes.

They remain that way for some time, Tachibana’s hand a soothing weight. Eventually, Tezuka and Inui win and Echizen shrugs off his jacket.

Tachibana leaves as quietly as he came, but Fuji feels the warmth of his palm until far after the matches are over.

***

Almost every school is present the day that Rikkai and Seigaku meet for the finals. Fudomine goes early at Tachibana’s urging, and they get good seats on Seigaku’s side. With them are Yamabuki, St. Rudolph, and Rokkaku; Hyotei, Jousei, and Higa are barely visible figures on the other side.

Sengoku Kiyosumi immediately sits next to Kamio and pesters him for a match afterwards, and the vice-captain looks at Tachibana pleadingly.

Kippei merely winks at him. He’ll be captain next year; the match will be good social practice.

Shinji, however, is accosted by St. Rudolph’s Mizuki, and here Tachibana /does/ step in. If Fuji’s reaction is anything to go by, Mizuki Hajime is not someone he wants hanging around his team.

“Nfu. Nfu,” Mizuki chuckles, giving Tachibana a look that could melt butter. In spite of himself, the captain finds himself shrinking away.

“It’s starting,” Kamio says loudly, crossing his arms over his chest. Sengoku backs off with a grin; he’ll rib him during breaks and afterwards instead.

As the two teams line-up, Tachibana’s breath catches in his throat.

Fuji is in singles three… against Yagyuu Hiroshi.

Niou is benched, Yanagi and Kirihara are D1, Marui and Jackal are D2. Tachibana squints, trying to read the Kanji on the boards. Sanada and Yukimura are, of course, S2 and S1.

“Tezuka and Sanada,” Ishida says in a low murmur. “This is going to be a hell of a game.”

The other schools are all talking about Echizen and Yukimura, or Inui and Kaidoh and the Golden Pair, but Tachibana is only interested in singles three. “The Laser Beam is tough to beat,” he says, frowning slightly.

Fuji Yuuta looks at him in surprise, then shrugs and nods. “Aniki can do it,” he says.

“Aa,” Tachibana replies.

/I hope so./

On the players’ benches below, Fuji makes eye contact with him and winks.

***

After Seigaku has won, everyone is eager to congratulate their friends. Kamio and An have gone over to shake Momoshiro’s hand; Shinji is talking in Echizen’s ear.

Tachibana walks over to Fuji, waiting patiently as he accepts a hug from his brother and completely ignores Mizuki.

“I’ll see you at home then, Yuuta?” Fuji asks, ruffling his hair. “Oneesan says she’s going to cook me a celebratory dinner.”

Yuuta nods. “Yeah, I’ll definitely be there… I just have to grab some stuff from my dorm first.”

“I’ll make sure he gets home safe and sound.” Mizuki chuckles beside him, raising an eyebrow at Fuji.

Yuuta blushes a little; Fuji’s eyes open.

“We’re leaving now,” he says hurriedly, taking Mizuki by the arm and tugging him away. “Bye, aniki! Congratulations again!”

Fuji’s brow wrinkles as he watches them go, then his face relaxes into his customary smile. “Tachibana,” he says. “Thank you for watching us.”

Kippei shrugs. “I doubt I could have kept Fudomine away,” he says, laughing a little. “Shinji will be talking about Echizen’s match for weeks.”

Fuji makes a small, approving hum. “Tachibana, would you--" he begins, but is cut off abruptly by the arrival of Saeki, who runs up and gives him an enthusiastic embrace.

“That was brilliant, Syuusuke!” Saeki grins. “Congratulations!”

Momentarily distracted, Fuji accepts the praise. “Well, I couldn’t have done it without your assistance,” he says. “The extra training helped quite a bit.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Saeki laughs. “You’ve got a hell of a serve!”

Tachibana’s mouth tightens at that, but he forces out an easy grin. “I think I hear An calling for me,” he says to Fuji. “I’d better go. Congratulations again.”

And he is gone, side-stepping past Momoshiro and Kaidoh and disappearing into the thick of the crowd.

Fuji is momentarily taken aback. “Tachibana?”

He cranes his neck and tries to spot the familiar blond head, but the jumble of students is somewhat overwhelming. He spots An standing next to Kamio and Shinji; Kippei is nowhere in sight.

“Huh,” Saeki says, grinning. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Tachibana was looking a little green around the gills…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Fuji automatically. “There is absolutely no reason for him to be jealous of you.”

Silence hangs between them for a moment before Fuji realizes what he has just said.

He blinks.

“I was kidding,” Saeki points out unhelpfully. “But it looks like you weren’t.”

And he gives Fuji a little push towards the entrance, grinning.

***

It doesn’t take Syuusuke long to find Tachibana; the captain is not particularly hard to read.

Fuji walks into the street tennis courts and up the bleachers, smiling a little as he spots the lone figure hunched on the lowest stoop.

“Feeling sorry for yourself,” he says. “Doesn’t really suit you.”

Tachibana’s back is to him but he doesn’t seem surprised to hear Fuji’s voice. “I suppose it doesn’t,” he says evenly.

Fuji sighs, studying him for a while. It has been a long year for both of them, though this not-quite friendship of theirs has somehow endured. Fuji is surprised at how much he cares.

Carefully, he takes a seat beside him.

Tachibana shifts a little to make room for him but doesn’t speak; Fuji sighs inwardly.

“Saeki was talking about team training,” he offers. “Between Seigaku and Rokkaku. Our teams had a joint training session shortly before Nationals.”

He smiles somewhat self-consciously. “It was beach volleyball,” he continues. “And Saeki was my partner.”

Tachibana doesn’t say anything for a long time, but Fuji senses the tension ebb from his shoulders.

“I wasn’t jealous,” Tachibana finally says, but he is smiling just a little. “Not really.”

Fuji chuckles. “Of course you weren’t,” he says.

He leans back, resting his hands on his stomach. He thinks about tennis and Kirihara and hospital beds, and then he thinks about how the color of Tachibana’s hair reminds him of buttercups.

“I only ever asked to play you,” he says suddenly. /I didn’t want to play against anyone else./

Tachibana turns to look at him, his eyes unreadable even by geniuses.

“It wasn’t always about tennis,” he says. “Was it?”

“No,” Fuji agrees readily.

His hand brushes against Kippei’s, just enough to be entirely deliberate.

His eyes are open, impossibly blue, and he smiles a real smile.

It’s not a promise, he thinks. But it’s a start.

Tachibana takes his hand.

It’s going to be an interesting year.

*Fin*

Fic: "Victory Road" (Ryoma, Fudomine) Gen, Part Four

Thu, 21 Dec 2006 19:04:06 GMT

“Victory Road”, Part 4
by: Trinity Helix
Feedback: Everything to trinity_cross@yahoo.com
Website: www.trinityhelix.com
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Characters: Ryoma, Fudomine (Seigaku, Hyotei, etc.)
Genre: Gen, AU
Warnings: None
Notes: Based on a concept by prillalar: What if Ryoma had gone to Hyotei/Rikkaidai/Fudomine/etc. instead? Other AUs of this nature can be found here: "King" by prillalar (Ryoma, Hyotei), and "Champions" by assyrian (Ryoma, Rikkaidai), "Firestarter" by storyteller (Ryoma, Yamabuki).

Victory Road Part One Here: http://trinityhelix.livejournal.com/163113.html
Victory Road Part Two Here: http://trinityhelix.livejournal.com/163833.html
Victory Road Part Three Here: http://trinityhelix.livejournal.com/164356.html

***

14. Sand Trap

They found out later that Seigaku won over Yamabuki, the power player that Ishida had beaten in doubles putting a stop to Akutsu’s disruption of the game.

“Kawamura beat him, six games to three,” Ishida reported, laying out the magazine in front of them. “Looks like they used to be old friends or something—Takashi-san really laid into him during the second half of the match.”

“So Seigaku won,” Mori said, looking up from his shoelaces. “That makes us what? Third place?”

Tachibana nodded. “Third place and secure in our seat at the Kantou Regionals,” he said, steeping his fingers before him. “We’ll add an extra training day to our regimen, plus put in an extra hour during regular days.”

He leaned over Kamio’s shoulder and encircled a date on their calendar. “Regionals are an entirely different level,” he said. “We need to be more focused than ever before.”

There were murmurs of assent around the clubroom, and Ryoma set his jaw. There was only one team that he wanted to meet on the Kantou courts, and his stomach clenched at the thought of playing them.

“Yamabuki,” he breathed.

The rest of the team was filing out, preparing to begin the day’s training. Tachibana paused at the door, scribbling something on his clipboard.

“Echizen,” he called. “Something on your mind?”

Ryoma shook his head, hesitating. “Buchou.”

“I want to play singles in the Yamabuki match. Against Akutsu.”

Tachibana frowned slightly at that, but he did not appear to dismiss the idea out of hand. “Any particular reason?” he asked. “Akutsu Jin is known for his power game… I had intended on matching him with Ishida. Or myself.”

There was an odd gleam to Tachibana’s eyes when he said that, and Ryoma was suddenly grateful that they were on the same side.

Still, he didn’t back down from his request, nor did he break eye contact with his captain. Echizen doubted he would be able to explain why he wanted this so badly when he couldn’t even work it out in his own mind.

Words seemed inadequate anyway, and he lifted his chin instead.

“Please,” he said.

That was it.

That was all.

Tachibana regarded him a moment longer, then nodded slowly.

“All right.”

Echizen exhaled, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. “Buchou,” he said. “Thank you.’

“I won’t let you down.”

And he left before he could see the small smile on his captain’s lips.

***

The next few weeks seemed to move rather quickly after that-- Ryoma practicing longer, harder, than he ever had. Every time he smashed the ball across the net, he pictured Akutsu’s stupid, grinning face.

He bowed and asked Ishida-senpai for practice games often, working on his returns against the new and much improved hadokyuu.

“Again,” Echizen rasped after a particularly long volley, breath coming hard in his lungs. “Please, senpai.”

Ishida was halfway off the court by then, and he looked reflexively at Tachibana as Ryoma spoke. The captain nodded.

“If you’re sure,” Ishida began uncertainly, taking his place at the service line. His hadokyuu was now functional as a serve, and it was this initial strike that Ryoma was having such trouble returning.

The ball screamed over the net, resembling Ohotori Choutarou’s infamous scud serve in its intensity.

Ryoma dove to return it, lobbing it high over the net and Ishida smashed in response. His considerable weight was behind the strength of the shot, and Echizen’s lips stretched in an almost manic grin.

/There./

It was the opening that Echizen had been waiting for, and he ran forward and jumped up, twisting his body as he did so. It was an impossible move and yet he managed it-- the ball screaming forth and forward onto the opposite court.

It had no bounce.

Echizen landed somewhat awkwardly on a single knee, breathing hard, dead silence reigning across the field.

“Cyclone smash,” he said.

“Completed.”

***

In the wake of Ryoma’s stunning new technique, it would have been easy for less important and less exciting practices to fall by the wayside. Indeed, half the team had taken to asking him for matches during free practice, and Echizen would have happily accommodated them all.

Tachibana-buchou, however, seemed to have different plans in mind.

He let them be for the remainder of the week’s training sessions, saying nothing about the thorough neglect of doubles practice. Only Mori and Uchimura seemed to remember their team strategy, but with no other pair to play against, they soon took to singles training as well.

Tachibana observed all this in silence, but come Monday next, he met the team at the clubroom with a somewhat disarming smile.

Echizen had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he kept his mouth shut and tugged down the brim of his cap.

“Tachibana-san?” Kamio asked uncertainly. He was holding the week’s training regimen and looking over the weight increments per player. “Is something wrong?”

“Of course not,” Tachibana replied. He was still smiling. “I’ve made some adjustments to this week’s schedule, and we’ll be working with a new program today.”

Shinji was busy draping a pair of his school socks on Echizen’s duffel, but he looked up at Tachibana’s words. “New training program?” He repeated. “This wouldn’t have something to do with Echizen showing off last week, would it? Because if you want to punish him, you shouldn’t lump the rest of us in, too. We didn’t come up with a snazzy new smash and keep it to ourselves like a sneaky, short, insufferable…”

Wisely, everyone ignored him.

They shuffled out into the courts and began their warm-ups as directed by Tachibana, pairing off for stretching.

Ryoma tried to drift as unobtrusively as he could to Shinji’s side, and the other boy turned to him (thankfully) without comment. Tachibana was already helping Kamio with his hamstring stretch, and the first half of the practice session progressed without much deviation. The weights were heavier and the endurance runs were longer, but that was all.

Come free practice, however, everyone found themselves paired with their strongest doubles partners.

Ishida and Sakurai, Mori and Uchimura… Ryoma fully expected Shinji to go with Kamio, and was mildly surprised to be assigned to him instead.

Tachibana had paired with the vice-captain, and put up a roster with random pair versus pair matches. “Consider this a mini-tournament of sorts,” he said. “To hone your doubles skills.”

Uchimura frowned. “Tachibana-san… this looks like a pretty regular free training match, to me,” he said. “Are you sure you want us to stick to our regular pairs?”

“It’s not quite a regular practice match,” Tachibana replied. He produced a length of rubber tubing, about 2 feet in length and quite sturdy. “You’ll be playing while tied together.”

“Tied together?” Ishida sputtered. He could hardly be expected to perform a Hadokyuu with Sakurai attached to his arm, could he?

“And playing against a non-handicapped pair,” Tachibana continued. “Each pair takes turns.”

Mori looked at the length of tubing, then at the height disparity between himself and Uchimura. Kyousuke’s nickname wasn’t the “Front Killer” for nothing, and Mori had fallen into the habit of defending the bottom part of the court.

A somewhat moot strategy now, considering they’d have to constantly be a foot away from each other.

“We’re screwed,” he sighed.

No one disagreed.

***

After the initial squabble over the court assignments, it was decided that the Echizen-Ibu, Mori-Uchimura pairs would play with a handicap first. They were Doubles One and Doubles Two respectively, and paired off against Ishida-Sakurai and Tachibana-Kamio.

Echizen’s right wrist was attached to Shinji’s left, with about a foot of tubing hanging between them. Being rubber, the tubing allowed a bit of slack when pulled, but it was hardly enough to allow the pair to cover both sides of the court at the same time.

Still, Ryoma thought he had quite a bit to be thankful for. Both his and Shinji’s strong hands were free, while Doubles Two had to settle for Mori’s strong hand attached to (and thus weighed down by) Uchimura’s weak.

“Don’t trip on me,” Ryoma muttered to Shinji, as they squared off against a grinning Kamio and Tachibana-buchou.

The game started with Akira’s serve, the vice-captain wasting no time in speeding up the rhythm of the game. His speed tennis proved a nice complement to Tachibana’s stylized power techniques, and Echizen sighed inwardly.

He and Shinji would have been hard-pressed to keep pace on a normal day, much less tied to each other as they were now.

Echizen swore softly as Shinji stepped on his foot, but at least he managed to reach the ball.

“I’m in the rhythm!” Kamio pivoted, returning the ball with ease.

He was grinning a little, and Ryoma felt a brief flare of annoyance. He could return that volley with his cyclone smash /easy/.

And, suiting thought to deed, he jumped up and prepared to do just that.

Shinji’s jaw dropped when he saw what Ryoma was doing, but by that time Echizen was already in motion. What was supposed to be a graceful mid-air twist turned into a tennis racquet whapping Shinji in the back of his head, and he fell backwards like a sack of potatoes. Ryoma, who was momentarily frozen in the balletic action, went down with him in a tangle of limbs.

Uchimura, who was on the opposite court, whistled.

“Nice going,” he said, and promptly tripped over Mori’s feet.

Ryoma moaned softly.

***

At the end of the day, a group of much-humbled Fudomine regulars sat huddled in their tiny clubroom.

Tachibana had called for an assessment after the day’s disastrous training session, and he was methodically laying out everyone’s strengths and weaknesses.

“Doubles is doubles,” he said, giving Ryoma a significant look. “You can’t play it as if it were a singles match-- techniques that could bring you to the top might very well bring your partner crashing down.”

“I’ll say,” muttered Sakurai, rubbing his jaw.

Ishida ducked his head, face burning in embarrassment. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t use his hadokyuu, but he’d inevitably forgotten when Ryoma had baited him. The resulting two-handed swing had tossed both the ball and Sakurai hurtling towards the net.

Mori and Uchimura had made considerable progress, however, as their forward/backward formation had been compromised to a middle court defense. Their footwork had also vastly improved, as they learned to work around each other rather than against. Ironically, it was their /lack/ of fancy techniques that made them work together so well-- a fact that was not lost on Shinji and Ryoma.

The Tachibana-Kamio pair had likewise performed disgustingly well-- a fact that surprised no one at all. The vice-captain had slowed down to accommodate Tachibana’s pace, and whenever he was about to lose his temper, a raised eyebrow from Kippei calmed him down. Tachibana also refrained from utilizing any of the rougher play styles that they’d seen him use before, and he followed Kamio’s rhythm as aptly as he could.

They were hardly Seigaku’s Golden Pair, but it was clear that they were adjusting to each other’s strengths and covering their weaknesses.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you all that we don’t have the luxury of a two-hundred man training pool to draw against,” Tachibana continued, giving each of them a significant look. “This is all we have.”

And every single one of them needed to pull their own weight. Every single one of them needed to be able to function as both Singles and Doubles players… for the good of the team.

Echizen tugged his cap down.

The atmosphere was subdued as Tachibana dismissed the team, each member lost in his own thoughts.

Ryoma didn’t think he liked Doubles now any more than he did four hours ago, but he did know that he was going to do something about it anyway.

He shouldered his bag and quickened his pace.

“Shinji-senpai! Wait up.”

*tbc*

Drabble.

Tue, 23 May 2006 03:46:14 GMT

"Pinwheel"
Kamio, Tachibana

His friends all think that he’s chasing after something, legs pumping furiously as his arms cut through the air at his sides.

Shinji often mumbles that maybe he’s chasing after another pretty girl who’ll make him blush and stammer and hide, and the others think much the same. (The only difference being that he’s running after another pretty /boy/.)

Kamio lets them think what they want, because only he knows the truth.

He doesn’t run because he’s trying to catch something, he runs because he’s trying to stay ahead.

He started playing tennis so he wouldn’t have to go home immediately after school, stretching his afternoon out as long as it would go.

As rundown as Fudomine is… it’s still better than home.

He runs and runs, and the day Tachibana comes is not the day he stops, but the day that he learns to /sprint/.

***

Still haven't come back.

I just needed to write something.

I never thought I gave a shit about my jewelry until the jeweller melted it into a lump of gold right in front of me. Desperate times, and all that.

Fic: "Graduation" (Fudomine); Art: "Family Is What You Fight For"

Thu, 11 May 2006 19:08:35 GMT

Graduation
by Trinity Helix
Feedback: Everything to trinity_cross@yahoo.com
Website: www.trinityhelix.com
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Fudomine
Genre: Gen
Warnings: None
Notes: My way of letting go, I think.

***

The day that Tachibana Kippei graduates is the day that Kamio’s life changes.

The regulars are huddled around their captain, An smiling mistily as she looks on.

/It won’t be the same,/ Kamio thinks, as Tachibana accepts small mementos and the occasional back slap.

“Do your best,” the captain says, and his eyes are suspiciously shiny. “I’ll drop by to see you every now and then.”

There is a low murmur of assent; Kamio swallows hard. He wonders if he’ll find himself again in the coming year, or if he’ll change, evolve into someone better.

Ishida clears his throat, reddening a bit as he asks for one of Tachibana’s jacket buttons. Mori and Uchimura chime in as well, and Shinji keeps up a constant monologue about being Fudomine’s Ace and therefore deserving a button himself. Sakurai, like Kamio, is silent. He rubs the back of his neck and looks at his shoes.

Kamio doesn’t say anything; there are only five buttons.

“All right, all right,” chuckles Tachibana, shrugging his school jacket off. He clips each button carefully, severing the black threads with Uchimura’s pocket knife.

He drops one in each of the outstretched hands, speaking quietly to each regular in turn. Kamio watches and waits, patient for once, drawing calm from deep within.

When at last Tachibana reaches him, he has no buttons left.

“I’m proud of you,” he says simply. He knows that Kamio will understand.

The hand he extends is all but empty, and Kamio takes it—his grip damp but firm. Their road may have ended this year, but the next year’s outcome was not yet written.

“Tachibana-san,” he says. “Arigato.”

And he steps back, bowing deeply and at the waist. It’s his now, and Kamio Akira feels the weight of the letters on his back.

“Next year,” he promises. “Will be Fudomine’s year.”

And he knows that it is the truth.

**FIN

***

Art: Family Is What You Fight For
by Trinity Helix
Feedback: Everything to trinity_cross@yahoo.com
Website: www.trinityhelix.com
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Fudomine
Genre: Gen
Warnings: None
Notes: It's a process.

POT 308 Line-up: S1- Sakurai Masaya, D1- Mori Tatsunori and Uchimura Kyousuke, S2- Tachibana Kippei, D2- Kamio Akira and Ishida Tetsu, S3- Ibu Shinji.