Caught in the Rain

By: Minuiko

A/N: Just a little note I'd like to include. This is a very, very strange yaoi pairing. Yes, it's certified in the show, Seaman is indeed a tennis player. I did this story starring Mitarai not only because he is my absolute favorite character (when I figured out that he was indeed male; he has a girl's voice in Japanese . . . it's kinda hard to believe that he's a boy, when you add that in addition to his rather feminine facial features . . .), but also because there. Are. No. FRIGGIN'. Stories. Starring. Him. Damn it!

Oh yeah, and he's with Sniper because they are total opposites, in my opinion anyway. Sniper is hot ;). Because this is an AU story, the Seven are all broken up. Gourmet will probably not appear.

This is rated PG-13 because you never know what might happen. But, you know what? I despise lemon. So, fat chance of that happening. But you never know.

Chapter One: Why does Everyone Hate Me?

Mitarai's POV

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Here, let me help you up!"

The boy with raven hair slicked up with gel was grinning. It was obvious that to him, this was a game. Not to me. His hand gripped mine and pushed me back into the mud with greater force. The disgusting dirt had completely ruined my jacket, as well as my pants. I wanted to punch back, to hurt him, to let him know how I felt... but knowing how weak I was... I couldn't. Maybe I shouldn't even get up... all he'd do was push me back down again.

I looked back to my backpack nervously. My homework was in there. I usually got fairly good grades, no matter what people said. If it got wet, then... the boy noticed the direction of my glance, and picked the backpack up. "Well now, maybe I should throw this in the fountain. Or better yet, I should toss you along with it."

I panicked inside. What would I do? Just then, a very pretty girl (I wasn't interested, but I guess I should mention this) with short-cropped brown hair and soulful chocolate-brown eyes was marching towards him, a furious expression on her face. "YUSUKE, you JERK! How dare you! What did Mitarai ever do to you!"

Yusuke smiled cheekily, his hands in his pockets. "Come on, Keiko, I needed something to take my stress out on, and this blonde loser just happened to be there."

I suppose I should have been indignant at this crude description of me, but I was used to it. It was better than some others that I'd heard. And I decided that I might as well be out of there while I still had the chance. I could hear Keiko's snort of disbelief. "Stress? What do you have to be stressed about? You don't even come to class half the time, and you never do your homework... I swear, you haven't matured a single bit since the first grade!"

I stood up, observing my skinny, muddy form with distaste. I suppose I was rather puny in comparison to people like Yusuke Urameshi, but... I was me. And I wasn't that bad of a tennis player either, not bad at all. I wasn't bragging or anything: last year I was the champion of the high school tennis team. I was anonymous, however, taking the alias "Seaman" and donning a hooded raincoat...

No one in the school really knew my name or acknowledged my existence. They all knew me as "that loser" or "the kid who gets picked on every day." /They all hate me/. Well, one day, I'll show them...

Just them, the girl, Keiko Yukimura, walked up to me, a sympathetic look on her face. "Look, Mitarai, I'm sorry about the way Yusuke's been acting. He's really a nice guy inside. He's just... rebellious."

Right, like she cared. Who does she think she is? I didn't push her away or anything, though, I just mumbled something like, "Thanks, but that could be said of every single person who's beaten me," and walked off, backpack slung over one shoulder. It was true. Everyone judged by stereotypes; by labels; by first impressions... they never even try to know you before thinking you're this type of person or that. Mr. Sensui taught me that. He was the only one I could look up to. Besides Itsuki, of course. I always got the impression that Itsuki was a queer, but who knew?

Well, at least my homework was safe. The teachers didn't ask why my clothes were so muddy; everyone already knew why. They were used to it. Or maybe they just didn't care. After all, who would/Pansy. Fag./ The words rung in my ears, repeating over and over again. After nearly three years of enduring this, it still hurt to hear it. And today was no different. /You gonna chicken out again, Mitarai-chaaaan? C'mon, let's go . . . what a wuss./ And all the while, I was repeating to myself/Ignore it, ignore it . . ./

After school, I checked the rosters for the coming tennis match. I had already gotten very far into the tournament this year. I uttered a sharp intake of air. The next and last match was... "Kurama" vs. "Seaman."

I suppose everyone was excited about this match. Everyone knew that "Kurama" was Shuuichi Minamino. The pretty boy. Class president. Top-scorer. Perfectionist. He gets over a hundred on every test. Of course, no one knew who "Seaman" really was. They just knew him as "the anonymous champion of last year." Imagine how they'd feel if they knew that he was me.

I veered around as I heard the roaring of a motorcycle. And my heart dropped lower than my gut. It was Sniper. Rumors said that he was in the toughest gang in town, and that his aim with any gun was flawless. What was he doing here? I didn't know his real name, but I knew that he was trouble.

"Checking who your last opponent is, Seaman?"

I stiffened. He knew who I was. This had never occurred to me before, but now I thought... who else knew? I attempted to look tough, saying, "It's Kiyoshi Mitarai."

I had to admit, he looked really cool, even for a gangster. His light wine-colored eyes stared mercilessly ahead with no hint of emotion. The red jacket slung casually over his lithe body added a touch of elegance that I doubt even Shuuichi could have achieved. But he couldn't be here for anything good. Would he add to the list of insults?

He started his motorcycle again, a cocky smirk on his slightly tanned face. "I advise you to forfeit the match. You can't win."

That was insult enough. Shuuichi was not better than me! I thought for the hundredth time, I'll show him. I'll show the world. I said between clenched teeth, "That's the last time somebody calls me a fucking loser who can't do anything."

Wow. Did I just cuss? To Sniper? I rarely cussed in front of anybody (except for myself). But I just did. In front of Sniper.

He didn't do anything. Just kept grinning, an eerie look crossing his rather delicate features. "Just warning you. There's somebody who wants you to suffer, more than anything. If you don't quit..."

Well, doesn't everyone want me to fucking suffer? Why else would they push me to the brink of insanity every day of my life? And Yusuke? Why else would he sink my face into the dirt every day? I flared up, snapping, "Tell whoever it is that I'm not going to crack, no matter what."

His expression didn't change. "Even if it's Sensui?"

Sensui. That was different. Mr. Sensui was the one who saved me from a burning building. He was the one who helped me with my work, my worries, with my financial troubles, the one who taught me about humans and the sickeningly cruel lives they lived. He helped me through a world where you couldn't trust anyone or anything. So how could he want to betray me?

He taught me once that people worked with ulterior motives . . . so he could be getting close to me so that it would be easier to hurt me. But then again ... why should I believe Sniper? It wasn't, it couldn't be, true. And Mr. Sensui couldn't have had an ulterior motive. What did I have to offer? To stop my imagination from getting too wild, I interrupted my chain of thought and told Sniper angrily, "Mr. Sensui wouldn't do that to me. He's the closest thing to family I've ever had."

No reaction. What was up with this guy? I continued, my voice even lower now, "And even if he did... if he wanted me to suffer... I guess I would deserve it. Mr. Sensui usually does things with a good reason. But I still don't believe you."

Sniper's eyes turned even icier, if possible, as did his voice. He replied coldly, "Just remember... I may be the one to shoot you. And I'm not one to miss my target."

I blinked. Shoot me? Whatever. Without another word, he zoomed away on his motorcycle, taking a single look back at me. Well, he sure gets the prize for being cryptic. I shivered from the after-wind that followed. And then, unconsciously, a tear fell from my face. He didn't sound like he especially hated me. In fact, he didn't sound like he even acknowledged me, as if I just happened to be there, and he couldn't care because, either way, warning or no warning, "I would suffer." Maybe it was better that way...

But everyone hates me. That's right... everyone... and he was no different. Why would he be? He probably only told me to quit so that I would sink deeper into my mental sand pit, until it was so deep that I couldn't get out. But as I told him... I wouldn't crack. Not just yet. Not unless Mr. Sensui hated me, too.

Hagiri's POV

It was night. I had given Mitarai a warning, more than a warning. I had told him who had sent me to kill him. But the kid just wouldn't click. He just insisted that "Mr. Sensui wouldn't do that to me."

He was annoying, really. So why was I hesitant to put the bullets in, to pull the trigger?

Maybe it was the heartbroken and courageous way he carried himself. Heartbroken, like a stupid, whimpering puppy that was alone in the world. Alone like me. But who cared. As Sensui told me, he would be appearing around this apartment any minute now.

And he did. He was shivering in the cold, the yellow jacket making it all too apparent that he was, indeed, "Seaman." My eyes narrowed. Tears were streaming down his face. Yes, heartbroken, indeed. And miserable. Pathetic.

And even if he wanted me to suffer... I would deserve it.

Deserve it? Did he? Why did I even warn him? Perhaps to disobey Sensui, me being as independent and falsely servile as I was. I didn't know. My finger was against the trigger of my handgun, as I thought about why I was going to kill Mitarai in the first place. Well, he sure pissed me off, the way he seemed so nonchalant about everything at school, and the pathetic way he acted when he was alone. It was not for Sensui. Of course not. No one ordered me around.

I hesitated again. Maybe I didn't need to shoot him. If he would just forfeit the tournament. But Mitarai was only fourteen. He was too stubborn to do that, I should know. And too young to die. Then again, my sister was too young to die, and she did anyways. So. I gripped the gun tighter, preparing to actually shoot this time, but before I took aim, I heard yells. Yells of pain. It was Mitarai.

Mitarai's POV

Blood was spilling on the ground, seeping into the dirt. It was my blood. I screamed in pain as yet another knife was stabbed into my ribs. I didn't want to die. Not yet. Not only two weeks away from the final match.

And again, I was wondering who hated me so much to send an entire gang after a kid like me. Who would be such a coward? Yes, I knew that people beat on me, and yes, they hated me... but not to this extent... I coughed up more blood, feeling a wave of nausea overcome me. It's... it can't be Sniper, can it? So does he really hate me? But why? What did I do?

And I knew myself that it couldn't be Sniper. He was a one-shot-kill kind of person, and he didn't seem like the type to send "friends" after people; he seemed like the type that would do the job clean, and more importantly, to do the job alone...

All of a sudden, I could feel no more pain. It was dull, and by now, my head was getting all foggy, the air around me an unpleasant dull red from my own spilled blood... I was dimly aware of a fist slamming into my head, over and over again... And an unsettling thought came to mind.

What if these men were sent by Mr. Sensui...

But Sniper said that he would be the one to kill me. This could be just a coincidence. A big, stupid coincidence. No...

Blood was streaming out of my mouth at an alarming rate, but I had to ask. "Who sent you...?"

The bigger one roared something I couldn't hear too clearly. Something about how insolent I was and that I shouldn't ask questions. Tell a dying person to behave, right...

The second, who was a bit slimmer with a slimy sort of aura, was snickering. "So y' really want ter know, d'ya? Shinobu Sensui."

I felt my blood freeze. Mr. Sensui. Sniper was right about one part. It was Mr. Sensui... it was being pounded into me, this horrible, cruel information. Mr. Sensui hated me...

And I realized that I truly was alone in the world. Everyone hated me, they hated me... I was being hit. Hit so violently, mentally, figuratively, literally, too... hit so violently that I had to fall. And when you've fallen so hard, fallen so deep... I realized it. It was too late... sorrow and hate had flooded me, flooded my heart, overwhelming me. I couldn't escape.

And just a few seconds before the world turned black, a single thought was in my head. And by now, I was unaware of my bloody abdominal area, my badly bruised head, of everything. ...Why...

Why does everyone hate me?

.:Owari:.

Minuiko: This story is gonna be a short one, maybe around ten chapters, but... I kind of like it so far. Well, okay. That's all. Now press that little "Go" button, on "submit reviews," please. We'll both be happier.

Hah. Mitarai's the one telling himself that everyone hates him, but he doesn't know why.

P.S. I don't really think I'm all that good of an author, but... tell me what you think.

P.P.S. It's hard to do Sniper's POV. He's too mysterious. But I try.

P.P.P.S. I did edit the spelling. Nothing too big.

Dedicated to Larka of the Sight for being my first reviewer. I'll try to update!