A/N: Short drabble that just came to me someday, when it occured to me that there were way to few fics on Shishido and Choutarou's training. Note that none of the paragraphs are written in chronological order, so it's just write some, go back, write some more, go forward, etc. It is supposed to have a continuity through it all, I'm just saying I might've messed up someplaces, but I found it okay when I reread it.

Also, this is from Choutarou's point of view, though it is not first person. That is why I use the name Choutarou and not Ohtori, and also the reason why I say "Shishido-senpai" instead of just Shishido or Ryou.

Summary: Drabble. Everytime the ball collides with the hardened muscles of Shishido-senpai, Choutarou looks away. Shishido is not the only one who suffers with their training.

Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to the wonderful Takeshi Konomi, certainly not me. Though if it did, Fuji would move to Hyoutei, and they would become the main team of the series.

Warnings: Mentions of... Uhm, pain... Slightly angst, possible OOCness, vvvvery slight ShishidoOhtori if you squint. HARD.

Word count (without A/N): 795

Aspects of Pain

He hated it. Every time the treacherous tennis ball collided with the hardened muscles of his Shishido-senpai, making him cry out in pain, crumble to the ground and clutch his new wound, Choutarou winced as if he was the one in pain. But each time Shishido-senpai slowly rose again, determination in his eyes, asking for - no, demanding - a new ball, he found himself launching another deadly Scud Serve towards his best friend.

Only to hear his senpai's pained cry less than a second afterwards. He hated every minute of this training. But most of all, he hated himself for not stopping it.

He had agreed the first time Shishido-senpai asked. 'They would train,' was all Shishido-senpai had said. When Choutarou had asked him why he did not bring his racket as he stepped out on the court, the older had merely brushed him off, telling him that he did not need it. Choutarou had frowned at this, but still obeyed. It was when Shishido-senpai had told him to fire his best shot at him that his eyes widened in terror.

"No way, that's dangerous!" he had replied, at which Shishido-senpai had growled and told him to just do it, he would be fine. Hesitantly, Choutarou had thrown the ball over his head, aimed at the spot right before his senpai, and lowered his racket to the impact. The moment the ball left his racket, he had regretted his actions.

His feelings had only grown stronger as the ball bounced at Shishido-senpai's feet before making its way towards his jaw. With fearful eyes Choutarou watches as the other boy's head snapped backwards with a pained cry, making him stumble a bit while bringing a hand to the now sore spot. He had groaned unwillingly as he carefully moved his head back to its original position before locking his satisfied lavender orbs with Choutarou's tearful brown.

"Shishido-senpai..." he had started sadly, understanding dawning in his eyes, but the older cut him of with a gruff sound.

"Don't worry, Choutarou," he had grinned, still with a tint of pain in his voice. "It was a great shot. Keep hitting balls like that!"

And so Choutarou had continued torturing his senpai against his own will. But every time he even mentioned stopping, Shishido-senpai had only brushed him of. He was fine. He could do this all day. And he intended to do so.

But Choutarou saw the pain flickering in his eyes every time he moved, his hitched breath as he clumsily climbed to his feet again. Almost all of Shishido-senpai's visible skin were covered in bruises and scratches within three training sessions. Worried classmates commented on his limping, only causing the long-haired boy to snap and tell them to leave him alone.

Raw determination was what kept him going these days. His spot in the Regulars was so brutally torn away from him, but he intended to get it back no matter what.

Choutarou knew Shishido-senpai deserved to be a regular. He worked so hard, especially compared to others like Oshitari or Jiroh, or even himself, who had pure talent to back up with. Shishido-senpai had never had any talent. It was all results of intense training. Choutarou knew that.

But he never knew to what extend Shishido-senpai would take his training to ensure top results. It was scaring him.

Choutarou had tried to stop his senpai many times, telling him to stop before he got hospitalized. Shishido-senpai's responses had gradually become more and more irritated as the training sessions went on. But, much to Choutarou's admiration and irritation, his stubbornness had never allowed him to stop. Each time he fell, he got up again, demanding a new shot. And each time Choutarou gave served, he felt tears pricking at his eyes for the dreaded sound that followed.

He knew Shishido-senpai did this for his sake as well, to train his Scud Serve. He knew he should be grateful for the opportunity, but never once did it seem worth it all. The suffering, the pain. But although Shishido-senpai did not seem to realize it, Choutarou was suffering along with him. It was painful for him, knowing that each day, Shishido-senpai relived the pain by his hands. He was the one doing this to him. He did not want to. He just wanted someone... Someone... To stop it all and have Shishido-senpai back on the Regulars.

Finally, one day, his prayers seemed to be heard. Shishido-senpai caught the ball, the 216 kilometres per hour Scud Serve, in his bare hand. In the corner of his eye, he could see Atobe watching them from the stands. It was at that moment that Choutarou knew everything would work out, somehow, that maybe... Just, maybe, it was worth it all.

I'm not really satisfied with this, but then again, it's a drabble. I wrote it yesterday, and tried to rewrite it today. No such thing occured, needless to say. *coughcough* Anyways, review and tell me what you think!