Part 1

The halls were full of chattering students on their way to their various club activities. Or home, Akaya reminded himself. This school didn't make club attendance compulsory. He got a few curious looks, seeing as nobody recognized him and he was in the company of a teacher, but he resolutely ignored them all. The paperwork was done, school was out for the day, now there was only one thing left to do.

Of course, this was the hard part.

"Here we are, this is the tennis club office, such as it is," the male teacher announced heartily. "The captain should be in here, you can talk to him about joining."

Akaya nodded his thanks, and waited until the man left. He didn't want any teachers as witness to the probable upcoming explosion. Tachibana would have retired from the club like all other seniors once Nationals were over, and Akaya had a pretty strong suspicion about who the new captain would be.

Taking a deep breath, he plastered his usual disdainful, uncaring expression on his face and reached out to knock at the door.

Bar none, the thing that Kamio hated most about being Captain of the tennis club was the paperwork. There wasn’t a lot of it, but it was all stupid and time consuming. Because of their Nationals showing the previous fall, there had been a surge of interest in the team. He had 20 new people, most of them in second or first year. Try outs for the regulars team weren’t until spring, but as Fudoumine was such a young team, he had to work out all the details of how to keep a team of almost thirty tennis enthusiasts organized and happy. Most of the new students had no experience, so he had to work out a training schedule that would get them up to speed quickly. They had a hole in their regulars team, after all, and Kamio didn’t see anyone yet that he wanted to fill it.

The knock jerked him out of a daydream as he sat at his desk, his pen hovering over a still pristine list of new players, and his eyes staring blankly out the window at the dusting of snow on the leaves of the tree outside. With a start, he realized that school had let out, and he sighed, rising to his feet and moving to the door. “Hey Shinji—“ he began, then cut off when he saw the curly-haired boy standing outside instead of his friend. “K-Kirihara,” he gasped in surprise, and then his expression darkened. “You have some nerve coming here!” he snapped. “What the hell do you want?”

One dark eyebrow rose above bored green eyes, giving Akaya a sardonic look. "I'm slumming it, can't you tell?" he said with a small chuckle that hopefully didn't sound as forced as it was. He gestured at his uniform. "Thought I'd see how the other side lives. And I could hardly pass up a chance to see your friendly face, now could I?"

He took the opportunity to glance past Kamio into the office. It was just as cramped and run-down as he'd expected after seeing the general apathy towards sports this school seemed to have. Despite himself, his respect for the Fudoumine players rose a notch. They'd made it to Nationals with this as their level of support? He'd known they were an 'underdog' team, but this was ridiculous.

Kamio finally registered the uniform and his jaw dropped. “You…you’re pretending to be a Fudoumine student?” he sputtered. The other possibility – that Kirihara had transferred - was too unbelievable to consider. He glared at the other boy even more than before, moving to block his view of the office with a slight flush coming to his cheeks. How dare that bastard look at his office with that smug ‘I’m so rich and I go to Rikkaidai’ look on his face?

"Yeah, pretending," Akaya agreed, and a small sigh escaped him before he could stop it. His perfected 'I'm bored and I'm dangerous when I'm bored, so don't cross me' look slipped a bit, misery showing briefly in his eyes before he got himself back under control. "Hopefully somebody will catch me at it and send me back where I belong." His green eyes narrowed. "So. Who do I have to do to play a little tennis around here?"

The team captain stared at Kirihara for a few moments. Sure, he wasn’t the most perceptive person at Fudoumine, but he wasn’t an idiot, and the misery Kirihara had shown for a moment was telling. He…really has transferred? How is that possible? He sighed, stepping back in invitation. “Come on in.”

The office was small, but there were two rather uncomfortable school-issue chairs. Kamio flung himself down in his own chair again. He was a little taller now than before, the length of his legs only adding to his speed. He trained constantly, not wanting to lose his coordination as puberty lengthened his limbs, so his body was long and rangy. A sprinter’s body. But with the extra upper body strength that came from swinging a racquet instead of simply running. “You have to convince me to let you on the team,” he said, giving Kirihara a stubborn look.

Akaya remained in the doorway for a long moment, blinking in surprise. He'd expected an explosion and a lot of yelling, not an invitation to come in. After the initial hesitation, however, he sauntered forward with all his usual grace and draped himself onto the other chair, dropping his bag beside him.

Maybe he just wanted to do the yelling in private, Akaya thought cynically as the door swung shut slowly. "All right," he agreed, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "You tell me what it's going to take to convince you, and I'll do it."

Inside he wasn't nearly as casual about the situation. You can't take tennis away from me, he thought fiercely at the redhead. And you don't want to try to stand between me and it, either. Oh, Kamio couldn't stop him from playing at the street courts, but playing street tennis was frankly not worth his effort. Not unless he lucked out and someone from Seigaku or Fudoumine or St. Rudolph's was hanging out there. And most of the street court games were doubles games, to allow more people to play on the limited number of courts. Akaya didn't do doubles.

*He stands in our way; destroy him before he destroys us,* a too-familiar voice hissed in his mind, and he shoved it away with what was becoming a practiced mental gesture. He fixed his gaze rigidly on Kamio's face, so he wouldn't look to the side and see what he knew was lurking in the corner of his eyes. He needed to play nice here; the only thing violence would get him was banned from the team.

Kamio, on the other hand, was doing his damndest to think like a team captain, rather than punching Kirihara in the face. Tachibana is OK, he told himself repeatedly, his fists clenching spasmodically at his sides. He’s out of the hospital. He’s recovering, and the doctors said he’ll be able to play again in high school. I don’t need to kick Kirihara’s teeth in. “Listen, Kirihara,” he said tightly. “We both know that you’re a good player, but that’s not the only thing that matters. Understand?”

*He is going to be an obstacle - make him pay! Teach him the folly of crossing us,* the voice insisted, and Kirihara gritted his teeth. Aggression against him always brought out the worst in him, and Kamio was nothing if not aggressive towards him.

Still refusing to look away from Kamio's face, he forced his tense muscles to relax again. He knew the redhead would probably take it for an insolent stare or something, but that was his problem. "We also both know you've got a Tachibana-sized hole in your team," he replied, grateful his voice came out as light as he'd intended it to. "You didn't even have enough people to have an alternate last year, and I seriously doubt any of the glory-seekers that probably crawled out of the woodwork have much ability. That means you're short one person. Do you want to go back to Nationals as a captain or not?"

He tried very hard not to let his resentment creep into his tone. He should have been going to Nationals as a captain this year, not just as a player. Giving up his hard-won position as Rikkaidai's new captain had been by far the most painful part of leaving. Thankfully, he doubted Kamio knew what the new Regulars line-up for Rikkai was, since it wouldn't be official until the spring rankings. He wouldn't know just how much it stung for Akaya to have to go back to being a nothing, not even a Regular.

Kamio returned the insolent stare with a sneer of his own. “Believe me, I know exactly what kind of lineup we have, and what the new players are like. But I’m not going to just let you bully your way onto this team. You’re going to earn it, like everyone else.” Just like Seigaku. Kamio fully intended to try to model Fudoumine’s selection process after their rival’s. It WORKED, after all.

Akaya laughed, and it wasn't a pleasant laugh. "If all I have to do is beat all your new little wanna-bes, you might as well give me the Regulars jacket now. You and I both know none of them stand a chance against me." He shrugged. Of all of Fudoumine, only Kamio and maybe Ibu would be able to hold their own against him. And he had no doubt he would win the games even with those two. He'd beaten Tachibana after all, and he'd have been able to do it even without destroying the other boy's knee if he'd really wanted to.

"But hey, if you want to risk me crushing their fragile little egos and driving them off the team in despair, that's your business," he added casually. "Just point me at who you want me to play."

Kamio’s eyes narrowed. “BUT,” he said pointedly, as though Kirihara hadn’t spoken. “Because I happen to know you, and what you can do, you’re going to have to do a little extra. Otherwise, you won’t be able to get your chance to compete at all.” He folded his arms, smirking at Kirihara. “The season – and the ranking matches - don’t start until spring. You have until then to prove to me that I can put the wimpiest, terrified little second year against you, and they’ll have a good game with you – whether or not they lose in the end.”

Losing all trace of his bored expression, Akaya sat forward in his chair in consternation. "You can't be serious!" he protested. "Even if I were the nicest, gentlest guy out there, I'm too good! You put an inexperienced kid against me, and they're not going to get a 'good game', they're going to get creamed without me even trying!"

He made the mistake of gesturing, and the motion drew his own eyes away from Kamio's face. Hastily he closed them, masking it as a pained expression as he slumped back into his chair. It was there, lurking, just over his shoulder. Waiting for him to slip up, to leave a crack in the armour of his self-control. It's not real, just ignore it, he reminded himself, and opened his eyes again to return to giving Kamio a challenging stare.

Honestly, what did the redhead expect from him? Akaya wasn't known as Rikkai's 'second-year ace' for nothing. He'd been Singles two on a team considered to be one of the best in the country in his junior year. He'd been chosen for the All-Japan selection team as the singles ONE player, for crying out loud. And now Kamio somehow expected him to magically be able to play a 'good game' against someone with little to no experience?

Kamio rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know what a good game IS,” he snarled. “If that’s what you think. Who cares if you cream the kid? The point is HOW you do it, Kirihara. I won’t let any of my players play you if they’re going to get hurt, and that’s final. I don’t give a FUCK about the nationals. I don’t care if we never win another game. I am not letting you hurt anyone else at Fudoumine!” He didn’t even remember moving, but by the time he was finished, his throat was aching from the volume of his shouting. His fists were clenched hard on his thighs and he was leaning forward, as though he were about to leap across the short gap that separated them and strangle Kirihara.

Breathing a little hard, he leaned back, struggling to calm himself down.

Across from him Akaya was fighting equally hard not to react to the shouting, to the aggressive posture that said Kamio was inches away from trying to hurt him. Don't throw the punch, damn it, he thought desperately at the redhead. I know you want to, but don't do it, I don't want to hurt you...

Only when Kamio leaned back and was obviously trying to calm down was Akaya able to draw a steady breath. His hands were clenched so tight around the edges of the chair he thought there might be permanent imprints in his palms. But it had kept him from lashing out at the redhead, and he didn't think Kamio would be able to see the white knuckled grip from that angle. With an effort, he pried his hands loose and recovered his usual bored-seeming poise.

"All right, fine," he agreed, ignoring the howling of the thwarted beast at the back of his mind. "If that's what it takes, I'll play every damn kid you throw at me, and none of them will have so much as a skinned knee." His eyes glittered dangerously, and he couldn't keep himself from using a knee injury as an example, just because he knew it would remind Kamio of what he'd done to Tachibana. "So long as you keep your end of the bargain and let me play."

Glaring at him over the ‘skinned knee’ comment, Kamio nodded once. “Agreed,” he said, unaware of how close Kirihara was to hurting him. “And if you slip up, you’re off the team permanently. I’m not going to take your shit, Kirihara.” Unlike Yukimura, though I guess he was in the hospital. Maybe he didn’t know.

"I hope you of all people don't expect me to become a model of restraint and sweet-natured personality," Akaya drawled, eyes narrowing again. "I won't hurt the brats, but I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to play tennis." And frankly, you haven't earned my respect the way Yukimura did, and I doubt you ever will, he added silently. Kamio was a decent enough captain, judging by his protectiveness of his players and his willingness to set aside personal grudges if it really was the best thing for his team. But he would never hold a candle to Yukimura's charisma and ability to inspire loyalty and devotion from his people.

“No,” Kamio said caustically. “I don’t expect you to stop being an asshole.” His eyes narrowed. “So what are you doing here, anyway?”

"Signing up for the tennis club, last I checked," Akaya replied, forcing a lazy, cheerful tone to his voice. There was no way in hell he was going to get involved with social chit-chat regarding his family's sudden impoverishment with Kamio Akira of all people. "And in case you hadn't noticed, I think your friend is waiting for you."

He nodded towards the door, where he could faintly hear the sound of confused muttering from the other side. Something along the lines of "Akira never closes the door, but I know he's here, there's a light on, he must be busy, I don't want to interrupt, I could knock, but that would still be interrupting, I'll just wait out here, but what if it's just because it was noisy in the hall and he's waiting for me, and anyway it's boring out here, but I think I hear voices, it sounded like he was yelling..."

"Does he ever stop for breath?" Akaya had to ask, amused despite himself. He'd heard the blue-haired boy muttering to himself all the time at the Junior Selection camp last summer, but hadn't gotten close enough to really appreciate the other junior's lung capacity.

Sighing faintly, Kamio got to his feet. “No, not that I’ve noticed. He does shut up sometimes, though.” He moved to the door and opened it. “Hey, Shinji, Kirihara was just leaving,” he said, stepping back both so that Shinji could get a look at Kirihara, and so the other boy could leave.”

The blue-haired boy broke off in mid-sentence, thus proving Kamio right. Akaya gave the gaping boy his best 'caged tiger' look, the one that said he was just looking for something to pounce on to entertain himself. Most people edged away from him when he did that, but Ibu either was oblivious or just had no self-preservation instinct. He just stood there staring at Akaya in surprise.

"I'll take that as my cue to go then, shall I?" Akaya chuckled softly at the shocked look on Ibu's face. Standing, he stretched briefly before scooping up his bag and slinging it easily over his shoulder. "I guess I'll see you both on the courts." He gave Kamio a look. "And I'm holding you to your promise." He moved to stand in front of Ibu, who was still blocking the door, his posture saying that he was perfectly prepared to wait there forever until the other boy got out of his way.

“I’m holding you to yours,” Kamio snarled back, his eyes narrowing. He turned away, moving to gather up his papers and books and shove them into his backpack, while keeping half an eye on Kirihara and Shinji, just in case. He was fully prepared to defend his friend, if it came to that.

Still blinking, Ibu apparantly recovered enough to start a new train of thought. "Is that really Kirihara, Akira called him by name, but he's wearing our uniform, maybe he's spying on the team, but we're not even training right now, maybe he came to challenge us..."

Lips twitching as he fought not to laugh, Akaya was forced to wonder how the kid managed to pass any test without being accused of helping others to cheat as he muttered his thoughts out loud. "Think you could clear the doorway?" he broke into the stream of words, his voice full of scathing amusement. "I'd kind of like to get out of here before your buddy's glare melts holes in my back."

Obligingly Ibu moved aside enough for Akaya to make his way back into the hall. With one last jaunty wave at Kamio, Akaya vanished around the corner.

Shinji moved into the room, letting the door close behind him as he gave his best friend a curious look. "What was he doing here?" Sometimes asking outright got him more information than if he just tried to puzzle it out on his own.

Kamio straightened, throwing the backpack onto his back and turning to face Shinji with an annoyed expression. “Kirihara’s transferred to Fudoumine – or so he says,” he growled. “He wants to play on our team in the new season. I don’t know what the HELL he thinks he’s going to accomplish, coming here!” Part of Kamio was wondering if the whole thing were a scam, except that Kirihara had seemed genuinely upset at the idea of not being able to play. Why would he go to all the trouble of performing such an elaborate prank, anyway? Sure, he’d gotten a rise out of Kamio, but so what?

"Transfered?" Shinji repeated, clearly surprised again. "Why would he transfer, that's stupid, he had to know we weren't going to want him here, and he'd have had to leave Rikkaidai, I wonder who their captain is if he's gone..." Shinji's eyes had lost focus as they sometimes did when he was thinking hard. "It's the middle of the year too, that's a dumb time to transfer, and Rikkai is a feeder school but Fudoumine isn't, now he's going to have to take high school entrance exams..."

“I wish I knew!” Kamio exclaimed, cutting into Shinji’s thinking before he could really get going. “He wouldn’t tell me why he transferred. It doesn’t make any sense to me, either.” He shook his head, peeking out the door as casually as he could to make sure that Kirihara was really gone. “Come on, I’m hungry. Let’s go grab some food.”

|Prologue| |Part 1| |Part 2| |Part 3| |Part 4| |Part 5| |Part 6| |Part 7| |Part 8| |Part 9| |Part 10| |Part 11|

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