Mind Games

Disclaimer: Now, do any of you REALLY think I own PoT? v_v;;
Note: Eh, it's suicide writing for a straight pairing in the PoT fandom of all things, but I'll give it a go. Wish me luck.

Pon. Pon. Pon. Pon. Pon. Pon. Po-

"Shinji."

-n. Pon. Pon. Pon. Pon. Pon.

"SHIN-" Po- "-JI." -n.

Pon. Pon. *mutter* Pon. Pon. Pon.

Kamio Akira - speed ace and vice captain of Fudoumine Junior High - twitched convulsively.

It wasn't that he was unfamiliar with the rhythmic bouncing of a tennis ball. Nor was he unfamiliar with said tennis ball bouncing on his teammate's racket over and over and over again in a way painfully reminiscent of Chinese water torture. But dangit, did he have to do it in a library of all places?? He obviously wasn't the only one who felt this way, given the numerous glares being shot their way from a rather baneful-looking crowd. It was a miracle they hadn't been --

"Excuse me, young man. May I ask that you either desist or LEAVE."

Ah. There it was.

Shinji turned to give one of his infamous expressionless stares to the librarian, who after several moments started fidgeting uncomfortably. Not surprising. Being around Shinji could do that to you. Fortunately, the message eventually reached Shinji's processing system after some delay and the 13-year-old walked nonchalantly out of the library, ignoring his accumulated audience, mumbling, and still bouncing said tennis ball.

A sheepish smile and an embarrassed "Sumanai" were all Kamio could offer before running out after his teammate. Idiot.

Outside, it was a clear cloudless day with the sun shining brightly and the fragrance of roses in the air. Or since this is anime: the fragrance of those omnipresent, ubiquitous sakura petals, fluttering elegantly from trees mysteriously in bloom all year round (with or without dead souls to fertilize it).

But I digress.

Unfortunately, the serenity of the scene was not to last.

"What the heck did you bring your RACKET for?? We were going to STUDY!"

"*mumble*" he reminded Kamio.

"I said I was GOING TO FINISH MY REPORT! Not 'going to the tennis court'!!"

"*mumblemumble*" replied Fudoumine's tensai.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, his sanity warned that it was slightly unnerving that he could actually decipher the jumbled, disconnected responses that tended to scare most normal people away. But he chose to disregard it - sanity was useless when dealing with the rest of Fudoumine's tennis team. Except Tachibana-buchou and…

Kamio shook his head violently, earning another deadpan gaze from Fudoumine's number two. Present goal - target frustration elsewhere.

"I DON'T CARE IF YOU BROUGHT AN EXTRA RACKET, WE'RE NOT GOING TO PLAY TENNIS!!"

"*mumble*"

"But…!!!"

*stare* "…"

…….Kamio Akira - speed ace and vice captain of Fudoumine Junior High - gave a tortured sigh of resignation.

"Fine…but only for a while!"

---------

Maybe the gods hated him, maybe he had done something horrifically wicked in a past life and was being punished for it now, maybe it WAS karma, or maybe that dratted Sengoku from Yamabuki was stealing all the luck away from HIM, or MAYBE…

"Kisama!!" Kamio pointed and glared at the Seigaku player who had just arrived on the street tennis courts along with that annoying freshman.

"YOU again??" Momoshiro looked quite taken by surprise, not pleasantly surprised, mind you, but more of a 'why does this always happen to ME' surprised. Echizen just looked annoyed…that is, until he and Shinji noticed each other. Then they went through the 'antisocial apathetic tennis players' ritual:

Stare.
"…"
"Yo."
"Un."
"…"
Magically summoned breeze (compliments of Fuji, the windmaster).
Stare.

While this ancient, arcane rite was taking place, their two teammates participated in another LOUDER greeting ceremony.

"YOU STILL HAVEN'T APOLOGIZED FOR MY BICYCLE!" yelled Kamio. For the - ah, he'd lost count by now - however many-eth time since he'd first encountered Momoshiro outside of tournaments. In all actuality, his bike was in a decent condition, and the repairs he had done himself with no problem. And it wasn't like he NEEDED a bicycle; he wasn't Fudoumine's speed ace for nothing. But he was angry at the Seigaku powerhouse, very VERY angry, for some reason he couldn't quite place. So, since Kamio was not one to bottle up anger and develop hypertension and die of heart attack in middle age, he chose to release it - and the bicycle was a sufficient target.

Sufficient, that is, until…

"Yo, Tachibana imouto~!" Momoshiro called out (a tad too cheerfully, Kamio thought) at the newest addition to their odd street tennis gathering.

"ANN! My name is ANN!" replied the short-haired girl. "Aa, Kamio-kun and Shinji-kun are here too?"

Kamio seemed to have momentarily lost his ability to speak. Or move. Or do anything reasonable at that time. So instead he settled with silently berating himself. He knew he shouldn't have come.

TBC