Title: Step by Step.
Characters: Kirihara Akaya, Shiraishi Kuranosuke, Zaizen Hikaru, OCs.
Notes: I've written this so fast I might have made a lot of mistakes. Sorry about that; I'll edit all of them soon. A few OCs will pop up here and there from now on, like the new members of the club and stuff, and some of them will appear more than the others just because they have big roles for their respective teams. They won't have any more role in the plot other than filing in the spaces, though, because I'm deathly afraid of writing OCs. It's just that they're needed here. I hope that's all right for you guys.

Mild spoilers for Shin Tenipuri.

The first day of the new year with him as the captain is something out of dream — or the stuff of nightmares, as he will learn to find out later on — to Kirihara, who looks on with a half-dazed, half-exasperated expression as the tennis club's members, old and new, line up in front of him like soldiers answering a captain's summon. Just as well, he thinks ruefully, because the courts will be their battlefield soon. The old members are apprehensive, but hopeful, as they survey his expression and gauge his abilities from what they remember of him, while the new members are awed and excited, especially those who have never seen but only heard of him and the club's prestige. The itch to prove his worth once and for all is there, and all in all, the promise of a beautiful season is just beginning.

A lot less people have signed up this year than the past years, but even in the face of defeat, Rikkai still holds the honour of being former champions and last year's runner-up, and is still revered as one of the best, so, comparatively, they still probably have had a higher average of recruits than most of the other clubs — and schools. That in itself isn't bad at all, considering that the competition last year had been tough. Kirihara, however, will not forgive himself for any mistakes this time.

A promise is a promise.

Kobayashi Masato, the new vice-captain with shrewd intellect that matches Niou Masaharu, though with a more quiet disposition, eyes him discreetly through the corner of his eyes, and murmurs, "I think they're ready to listen now, Kirihara-kun."

Kirihara hides his grin; he doesn't need to be told twice.

"I'll go straight to the point," he declares, loud and clear and ringing in the silence that has reigned under the weight of his stare. "If you're not here to win, leave. If you won't give a hundred-and-ten percent effort in every single one of your games - and I do mean every single one of them - then leave. If you can't stand waking up every morning with every part of your body sore, to the point where you can no longer get out of your bed, leave. If you've decided that you don't like what you're hearing, leave. And do it now, before I lose my patience."

"Losing patience is definitely your forte." His classmate and one of the newest regulars, Torii Kaede, mutters over his right shoulder, his face close enough to be punched in the face. Kirihara fights the urge to turn around and glare at him. It will only prove his point. "Good job at getting rid of them pretty fast, though. At least, we won't have to deal with idiots anymore."

"Not so sure about that last one," Kirihara mutters under his breath, but Kaede doesn't hear it.

There's a shift in the wind as footsteps begin padding across the hard court, murmurs coursing through the audiences as the numbers dwindle, and the air becomes less stifling. Kirihara bites down a grin as his eyes roam, counting down the numbers that have remained - less than half of those who have signed up, but that will do.

"Good," he says, his lips curling into a feral smile, deadly and mischievous and ultimately satisfied with the outcome. "The first thing to remember is that is Rikkai, and I'm the captain. I'm here to win, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to make that happen. I hope you're with me when that happens."

They all don the faces of warriors, ready and waiting to the bark of orders, and Kirihara finds happiness and pride in the momentary silence they share.

• • •

"You did well out there," says Masato softly after practice is over, shoulder to shoulder with Kirihara as they walk back to the locker room with the rest of the club members. "You have their attention, and their respect. Even the other third-years will not think of underestimating your capabilities to lead."

"They shouldn't have done so from the start," he says, gritting his teeth, voice low and tremulous at the little reminders of the greed and envy surrounding him. They've all coveted the spot, but he's the only one who has earned it. He believes that his anger is justified enough, however, that his vice-captain won't call him out on it. "No one has done as much as I have to deserve what I have now, Masato, and don't tell me otherwise. I'm not hearing it."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he replies, a small smile lifting his expression from blank to serene to amiable in the span of four seconds. It reminds Kirihara of Yanagi and his eerie calmness, and he quietly ponders the reason why Yukimura has so subtly urged Kirihara to pick him as his second-in-command. "But you're right. They ought not to have forgotten about what you've done for this team the previous years. This has been a good wake up call for them."

Kirihara nods, satisfied. "Damn right."

"As long as you control that temper of yours, none of them will be pushed away by your kind of gravity," Masato muses, laughing quietly at Kirihara's sudden indignant expression. "But then, Kaede-kun is right, isn't he? Losing your patience is definitely your forte."

"I should give you laps for that," growled Kirihara, but there's no bite in it. Masato merely laughs at the sky.

• • •

"How are your new club members coming along, Kirihara-kun?"

Kirihara stops twirling his pencil out of boredom, thinking the question through when he might not have done so before. He's arrogant, impulsive, so it's easy for him to say that his team is moulding itself quite nicely, slowly but surely restructuring from the loss of the best players their club has ever had, and he knows that anyone listening will believe it.

Then again, this is Shiraishi Kuranosuke he's talking to, who has managed to dissect his inner insecurities in less than an hour and bring out a side of him that no one has ever seen before. He'll reply something positive, sure, but he won't believe much else.

Kirihara doesn't forget that it's Shiraishi who has taken him out of his dark shell and has given him wings to fly, enough that he's no longer recognized as a highly destructive player, but a strong opponent of incredible talent. The difference is stark, and now that he's the captain of his team, it's dreadfully useful. He owes this person far too much than words can even say.

He settles for a light-hearted tease. "Are you going to report back to your successor?"

Shiraishi's laugh on the other side of the connection is rich with genuine amusement.

"Well, if you give me useful information, I just might," he admits, as unashamed as ever, and Kirihara grins at that. "I don't think Zaizen will appreciate my interference, though, no matter how useful it might be. I don't want to make him feel suffocated while he's still learning how to be a leader."

"That goes for the both of us," he admits, albeit begrudgingly. "How did you do it before?"

"Even if I tell you, Kirihara-kun, I doubt that it will help you," Shiraishi replies serenely, and he hears the light teasing tone in the other man's voice. "Every captain leads his team differently. You will have to find your own way of doing things."

Kirihara makes an impatient noise, and Shiraishi laughs some more.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll give you pointers. For my fellow year-mates, it was easy. They've been with me since the start. I know them and they know me. It was always a give or take relationship between us, and I never ever forgot my end of the bargain."

Kirihara remains silent, contemplating, considering.

"The younger ones were the toughest to handle, especially those who thought they already know everything and acted like they own the world." Kirihara feels his own lips twitching at that, a companionable moment wherein he remembers the bunch of first-years he's set apart from the rest. They all looked at him dubiously, with challenges glimmering in their sharp eyes, and Kirihara has sought to keep a close eye on them in an instant. "Imagine the difficulty I had when Zaizen arrived at the tennis club. With Kintarou, I could manage. His wild imagination as made him afraid of what I've been hiding underneath all the bandages. It was easy to control him once I found that out."

"I bet he was disappointed your arm wasn't actually poisoned."

Shiraishi responds cheerfully. "He still doesn't know a thing. He wasn't there when I took it off, remember?"

Kirihara rolls his eyes. Why did he even try to tempt fate with that?

"...Of course, he wasn't."

"Well, as I was saying, Zaizen was a handful, both in and out of the court. He was dreadfully useful in tight situations, and his partnership with Kenya in doubles was at a national level, but otherwise, he was difficult to deal with. He was a bit like a thunderstorm, that one. Rain, wind, and lightning, all at once. He still is, I guess."

"I can imagine," Kirihara snorts, his eyes dazed for a moment. Yes, he himself had caused a bit a storm back in the day, didn't he? Ah, well. His fingers twirl the pencil again, tapping lightly on the textbook sprawled in front of him. "He's got a mouth on him."

"Yes, that's true," Shiraishi agrees, slowly, and Kirihara has this distinct feeling that Shiraishi's trying to prevent himself to say the same thing about the person he's currently talking to. "He has no respect for authority, though he never seemed to mind answering to me when I ask nicely."

"It doesn't sound like it happened often," Kirihara teases.

"Hey now." Shiraishi chastises, but not too seriously. "I still had to establish my role as the captain, hadn't I? He talked back half the time, and doesn't always understand the points I tried to make, but I made it a habit all-year round to let him know who the boss around there was. I was never afraid to tell him where he went wrong and why he was wrong, and I suppose he developed some grudging respect for that. He's grown up a bit, though, even if he still is a pain in the ass most of the time." He pauses. "You, too, Kirihara-kun. You sound like you've grown up a bit, too."

Kirihara responds wryly. "It's a part of the job, don't you think?"

He can hear the fond smile in Shiraishi's voice. "Yukimura-kun should be very proud of you."

There's another pauses at that, and Kirihara leans back on his chair, looking up at his dreadfully boring white ceiling. He likes to think that it's true, that Yukimura is proud of the person he has become over the years — Yukimura has even said so during the last day of camp — but there are times when he second guesses himself, times when he believes otherwise. He doesn't have Yukimura's strength, after all, or his charisma.

They're very different people, and in many ways, many perceive Yukimura to be the better one.

He wonders if it's a part of the challenge, or if he's just being stupid, or if the entire world is really just that in love with his former captain and there's nothing he can do about it.

"Kirihara-kun?"

"Yeah," he replies, his voice steady. "Yeah, he is, Shiraishi-san."

• • •

"We're not so much as lacking in singles as we are in doubles," Masato says quietly, watching the shifts in Kirihara's expression as he examines papers that detailed the progress of his team. The classroom they've decided to conduct 'responsible tennis club things' in is perfect, mostly empty and silent and with a good view of the courts from where they stand. "We're all capable singles players, and in doubles, you, Kaede-kun, and I can team up alternatively if we're in a pickle. But that won't help us much, in the long run, especially if we need two of us in singles."

"Kaede is a doubles player," Kirihara quips, glancing at him. "We just need him to find the perfect partner."

"Ezakiya?" Masato offers.

"Maybe," Kirihara says thoughtfully, thinking about Ezakiya's down-to-earth personality (a rarity in a student of Rikkai, much less a member of the tennis team, and Kirihara likes to make fun of him once in a while) match Kaede's devil-may-care one (which, unsurprisingly, clashes horribly with everyone else's pigheadedness), "but I'm thinking more along the lines of Uoya."

"The first year?" the vice-captain's eyebrows furrow at the thought. "At the moment, he's still a very volatile player, with not much control on court. At the same time, being in the same pair as a third-year is an unusual combination, especially those two. Uoya is very aggressive in the court. He will want to be the game-maker, but Kaede-kun will not hand over the authority to him, being the older one."

Kirihara breathes out a short laugh. "He doesn't have to."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Uoya just needs someone to hold his hands and slap his wrists for a little while," he replies, leaning back and resting his arms behind his head. He's grinning at Masato's perplexed expression, as though he carries a secret that no one's allowed to know. "And Kaede needs someone to bring out his more aggressive side. If he can talk back to me off-court, then he can definitely fight back on court." He eyes his vice-captain shrewdly. "He's a little bit like you, you know. Maybe that's why your doubles combination sucks, even if you do win most of the time."

Masato snorts. "Don't be ridiculous."

"It's like watching Yanagi-sempai and Sanada-sempai play doubles," he continues on, as though he hasn't heard the interruption. His voice is nostalgic, almost wistfully. The memories take over sometimes. "They play together like they're in a singles game, which is hardly the point, but it works for the team."

Masato's eyes glint in amusement as he stares at Kirihara for a few moments. "So does that mean you're the Yukimura out of us three, Kirihara-kun?"

Kirihara makes a face and throws a crumpled piece of paper at his face.

• • •

To: Kirihara Akaya

From: Zaizen Hikaru

Subject: hey idiot

You do know that Shirashi's a mother hen, right? Whatever you say or do, if he cares for you, he's bound to worry about every little thing. That's why he's the biggest idiot in our group, aside from my two disgusting senpai — though that's beside the point.

Kirihara blinks after he's read the first lines of Zaizen's email, then laughs. It's just like Zaizen to be so caustic about his own former captain, enough to let a distant friend (?) know about it. Kirihara reads the concern and the annoyance, and the lingering fondness doesn't leave him. He's played the cute-brat card against his friends and teammates long enough to recognize someone who's doing the same.

Though, he supposes that 'tsundere' is the better word for Zaizen at this point.

Stop making other people worry about you needlessly. You said so yourself that you're going to win the Nationals this year. Are you going to take back your words now? Whatever. Don't be a girl and start playing some real tennis. Unless you really want to lose, and in that case, I'll travel over there and then kick your ass.

And I hope you do get to the Nationals so I can kick your ass there again.

- Z.H.

"Bastard," Kirihara mutters to himself, already thinking about his reply.

P.S. Do you know Hiyoshi's email? I have to send him the same message, except it's more along the lines of 'you have got a stick up his ass that needs to be pulled out'.

• • •

To: Zaizen Hikaru

From: Kirihara Akaya

Subject: stop talking to yourself

You're jealous.

It's not my fault that he loves me. Get a life, idiot. Or a girlfriend. Boyfriend. I don't know who'd even want to deal with you, but whatever, just get one. Preferably something who can take that stick out of your ass. And stop making too many assumptions. Did you forget what I said? Rikkai will reclaim that championship and there's nothing you can do about it. Even Seigaku won't be able to stop us this time.

Or… are you worried? Ha. Didn't think you care that much, Zaizen.

- K.A.

P.S. If I have hope for you, I have none for him. Too bad no one will be able to do that. Ohtori's been trying for half his life. But here's his email anyway - [email]. Have fun.

• • •

"Hyoutei, eh?" he ponders out loud, his fingers hovering on the keyboard after he has sent his reply.

Last Edited: 14-Feb-2012