DISCLAIMER: Kirihara says he's not jealous of Shinji no matter what you think, and also the Prince of Tennis and the premise of this story are neither one the property of keyascribe.

WARNINGS: The usual few swearwords.

PAIRINGS: Kamio/Shinji, Tachibana/Atobe, An/Kirihara, every doubles pair, ever.

A/N: It continues . . . I should have said this in the last part, but Kirihara is basically anime!Akaya in this story, so the Senbatsu arc and Tachibana's hospitalization did happen . . . .


Finding Shinji


Part Four

issues; teammates; copious hugs


After the match (6-1, and Shinji had almost gotten the hang of kick serving again) it was natural to suggest they all go for lunch. As he had been with Fuji and even Momoshiro, Shinji was surprisingly relaxed around Kirihara – maybe because he hadn't heard all of the other boy's teasing, but probably simply because they didn't have a past history and so he had nothing to feel guilty about. Kirihara, too, seemed to have exercised his worst snarkiness for the day and was surprisingly well behaved as they ate.

Between boasting about An's matches and pulling out quirky stories about Rikkaidai (who in Kamio's opinion still made even Hyoutei seem well-adjusted and functional) Kirihara was at his off-beat best, full of wry charm that Shinji seemed to have surprisingly little trouble keeping up with. Even when he slyly brought up the "who is cuter, An or Ibu" argument, Shinji didn't so much as blink an eye before weighing in with his opinion that of course An-chan was cuter because girls always were, although there were ways to be cute that weren't girlish, because Kamio wasn't a girl but he was often cute, especially when he got upset like he was now, even though he claimed he didn't get upset like that anymore, but as far as Shinji could tell he still did but Kirihara-kun had seen him more often recently than Shinji had, so what did Kirihara-kun think?"

. . . all of which made An honestly laugh and even Kirihara smirk, even as Kamio fought the urge to bang his head against the table.

Listening to Shinji's calm responses to Kirihara's whimsical remarks, Kamio had to remind himself that Shinji was older now, had after all spent three years talking to other people. It made sense that when he wasn't feeling awkward or guilty around people, he wouldn't have any problems. Kamio was pleased about that, but couldn't help feeling oddly . . . propietal? Almost jealous, as stupid as that sounded. For as long as he had known Shinji he had been the one who could talk most easily with the dark-haired boy. He was still reasonably sure that was still the case, but he couldn't help feeling oddly possessive about the idea, somewhere under the usual relief that seeing Shinji relaxed always brought.

And yet when things went wrong he wasn't at all happy about it.

The end result of the straw poll was that An firmly voted that Shinji was prettier and Kamio prudently bolted for the drinks refill machine before he could be trapped into answering.

By the time he returned, the conversation had moved back to tennis, and how An had taught herself the kick serve by spying on Shinji. At least, that's how it obviously amused her to call it, even though Shinji pointed out that she was just watching at practice, and she should have asked because as long as Tachibana-san said it was okay, he would have taught it to her himself, which meant she could have spent her time more productively than stalking him.

An chortled at the description of "stalker", but now that the conversation was focused entirely on Shinji again, Kiihara didn't look like he was having quite so much fun.

"It's not like you just learned by watching," he said with an edge of irritation. "You worked really hard to get it right."

Shinji blinked at him. "Of course, An-chan must have worked hard to get as good as she is now. Kirihara-kun must be really good now, too, because everyone at Rikkaidai seems to work hard, and I don't think An-chan would ever want someone who wasn't good at tennis as her boyfriend."

"Well, yeah, I guess," Kirihara said, mollified. "At least practicing is better than just lying around all day. . . ."

"It's not like Shinji has been lazy for the past years," An rebuked him with a little swat on the arm. "He was on the swim team and they did really well, right?"

"They were good," Shinji agreed slowly. "The junior high and high school teams went to Nationals every year and we won twice."

Kamio couldn't help a whistle. He had seen medals in Shinji's pictures, but he hadn't realized they were from the Nationals . . . . .

"That's amazing, Shinji!" An chirped, eyes shining.

Beside her, Kirihara had gone still. "No, it's not," he said quietly.

An turned to him. "Akaya, what-?"

"How can you say that's great?" Kirihara said, tone sharpening, eyes going narrow. "He gets to go to Nationals when it was him disappearing that meant you guys couldn't? How is that great?"

"Oi, Kirihara!" Kamio protested angrily, instantly protective. "That's none of your business, dammit. Shinji, don't liste—"

He trailed off at just how white Shinji's face had gone. He hadn't seen his friend look that pale since his first day back.

"Aa, that's true," Shinji said softly, not meeting either An or Kamio's eyes. "I keep almost forgetting. But I shouldn't. I shouldn't forget."

"Damn right you shouldn't," Kirihara agreed implacably. "Some stuff you can make up for, but for some things there's only one chance and when someone blows it for everyone else, cause they're thinking more about themselves than their team, it's – "

"Akaya, that's enough!" An snapped.

"But if it wasn't for him, you guys –"

"That's our business," An said firmly. "You have no right to—oh. Oh Shinji."

There were tears in Shinji's eyes. He didn't even seem to be noticing them, but – Shinji was crying.

Shinji was crying.

The silent tears flooded down his face and he blinked in almost shock as he felt them, as if he didn't know what was happening anymore than anyone else did.

In seconds, An and Kamio had closed the distance and wrapped their arms around him.

"Shinji!" An said pleadingly. "It's not like that. We're not angry. I promise we're not."

"Shit, uh, hey, I didn't mean—" Kirihara began, then stopped nervously at the rage in Kamio's expression.

"An-chan, get him out of here," he whispered, tightening his hold protectively around Shinji.

Wordlessly, An stalked out of the restaurant and Kirihara followed behind as helplessly as if she had physically dragged him.

Outside, she whirled on him before he could speak – not that he had figured out anything to say in the seconds since leaving the table.

"Akaya, how could you?" An demanded, tears in her own eyes. "I trusted you and you – you – how could you do that?!"

Kirihara slunk against the wall. An could always make his feel worse than even Sanada's heaviest punishments or Yukimura's gentlest remonstrances.

"Can I help it if I get tired of him being all you talk about now?" he protested angrily, half guilty, half accusing. "Like he's some superstar, even after he totally screwed his team over. You'd think you loved the guy or something!"

"I do love Shinji," An snapped. "Just like I love Kamio and Ishida and everyone on the team. They're like my family. They are incredibly important to me and yes, I love them. And I'm in love with you. At least I was until five minutes ago. So you'd better go home and hope that tomorrow I remember why I was. Meanwhile, I'm going to be with Akira and Shinji. If you can't deal with that, then that's your decision."

And she gave an angry swallowed sob and marched back into the restaurant.

He had been an ass again. Cursing, Kirihara pulled out his phone.

"Ah, Akaya," said Yanagi calmly after the second ring. "I was just thinking that given your track record, there was a 76 percent likelihood you would be calling in the next day or two."

"Shut up and just tell me what to do this time," Kirihara sighed.

--

Inside, Shinji had finally seemed to notice his tears and was rubbing at them as if they were a foreign substance, trying and failing to get them to stop.

"Shinji – Shinji it's okay," Kamio repeated urgently, almost pleading.

"I k-know, I'm not up-upset –" a sob choked out the rest of the sentence and Shinji looked honestly surprised about it. It was as if his emotions were doing what his mumbling usually did – unconsciously overflowing without him being aware of it.

"Shinji!" An raced back to the table, ignoring the growing stares from the other diners in the restaurant.

"A-An-chan, I'm really f-fine," Shinji's voice was shaking along with the rest of him. "He d-didn't s-say anything w-wrong. I just f-feel a little t-tired . . . ."

Kamio shared a helpless look with An. "Okay," he said trying to sound calm, because the blank look in Shinji's overwelling eyes was scaring the hell out of him. "We'll go home and you can rest. 'Kay?"

Shinji nodded, sniffling, and docilely followed them out of the restaurant. Luckily Kirihara had had the sense to disappear, because Kamio wouldn't have hesitated to put a fist into his face as hard as possible. Things were supposed to be going well dammit! They were supposed to be getting easier!

"Kamio-kun –" An began, eyes wide and worried.

"It's okay," Kamio said grimly. "We'll just go back to the apartment and sleep it off."

She hesitated, then gave him a quick hug, and Shinji a longer one. "Don't give up, Shinji," she whispered. "You just got tired today, that's all."

Shinji nodded again, still sniffling, expression a mix of confused and miserable.

"Can you walk home?" Kamio asked worriedly. "Should I get a taxi?"

Shinji choked back another sob and shook his head. "It's fine," he managed. "We can walk. I'm o-okay. L-let's just w-walk home? P-please."

Kamio gritted his teeth as he listened to Shinji cry, and they walked home.

--

As soon as they reached the apartment Shinji simply curled up on the bed, facing away from Kamio, and was instantly asleep, as if he had reached the point where he had used up so much of his resources that his body and emotions had hit a failsafe and automatically shut down.

Kamio, in lieu of pacing or panicking (more) or hitting the wall until his fists bled, sat on the bed next to Shinji and watched him sleep. He only moved to answer his cell when first An, than Tachibana, then Ishida, Sakurai, Mori, Uchimura, An again, Ishida again and Mori again called for updates.

Finally, Tachibana called a final time, simply saying "We're coming", and half an hour later the doorbell rang to let Fudoumine inside, led of course by Tachibana Kippei who prudently carried with him enough leftovers to feed a small army – or six very worried tennis players and a sister.

After a quick check on Shinji, who didn't even stir at the entrance of his team, Tachibana pulled Kamio to one side and did his best to buchou the redhead out of complete hysteria.

Pacing like a trapped cat, Kamio gasped out the whole story; Tachibana listened, nodded, supported, calmed.

"It's probably not surprising something like that would happen," he said finally, sighing, because he should have seen it coming. "Shinji's been pushing hard – that's been his decision, not yours Akira so don't get upset at yourself. He's probably just reached his breaking point. Now that all the tension has escaped like this, he'll probably feel better than ever in the morning. So for the moment, let's just concentrate on getting through the day, okay? We'll worry about tomorrow if and when it needs worrying about."

Kamio relaxed into his captain's security gratefully. That Tachibana would know what to do in any time of crisis was a belief unshakably rooted in the Fudoumine players' hearts. Kamio had foolishly been too proud to ask for his help during the worst of his confusion in years past, but that wasn't a mistake he would make again, especially not when it concerned not him but Shinji.

Gratefully, he let Tachibana organize the team, sending An and Ishida into the kitchen to arrange snacks, Uchimura and Mori to take first watch over Shinji, and Sakurai on a run to the 7-11 around the corner to get drinks. By evening, however, the initial roster of pairs scheduled to take turns in the bedroom had warped and once again Shinji had become a group activity as even those not "on duty" migrated into the bedroom and found some pretense to stay. Night found the team draped in all positions around or half on the bed, wedged into the smallish room and encircling the exhausted Shinji like a protective circle.

An stayed as well, simply getting her own blanket and leaning against her brother. Kamio took up root on the far end of the bed and continued his watch until finally Shinji murmured in his sleep and shifted slightly, the first sign of life he had made since returning to the apartment, and then Kamio fell into an uneasy doze of his own.

--

Slightly sore from sleeping in odd positions, Fudoumine woke up to Shinji, looking confused and stunned to see them all but neither crying nor disappeared. In the midst of the following babble of assurances and chiding and reassuring touches, Kamio slipped out of the room and this time did let himself hit the wall. It hurt.

"Kamio-kun?" An had followed him, watching him worriedly. "Are you okay?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah, just – shit, that was freaky," he admitted, trying to smile.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, hugging him.

"I've never seen him cry before," Kamio said tightly, resting his chin in her hair. "It's like we're being cruel, making him be here."

She pulled away from him just far enough to be able to look him in the eye. "Don't hate me for saying this," she said seriously, "but Akaya was right. Not the way he said it, but - We can't just forget the past. I'd be more worried about Shinji if he wasn't upset sometimes. Not that I want him to cry, of course. But at least that means he's really here, really serious about making this his permanent life."

"Yeah, that's a good way to look at it," Kamio agreed, trying for flippant and failing. "I'll plan on thinking that way as soon as my heart starts beating again."

She laughed softly. "Go see him," she advised. "He looks so bewildered you'll never be able to stay mad."

"I'm not mad at Shinji," Kamio corrected, frowning. "I'm just – not very good at complicated stuff, you know?"

"We know," Mori answered for him, having just entered the kitchen to let Uchimura and Ishida have their share of Shinji-time.

"We really know," Sakurai agreed fervently, following on Mori's heels. "An-chan, hug me too. I had to sleep with Tetsu's feet on me the whole night."

"You already got to hug Shinji," she rebuked, giving him a quick squeeze anyhow. "Don't think I don't know you're taking advantage of the situation."

"Yeah, he's almost confused enough to let me braid his hair, too," Sakurai smirked good-naturedly. "Akira, is he always this cute in the morning or it is only after special emotional trauma?"

"Don't answer that," Mori advised wisely. "Where's Tachibana-san anyway?"

"He's still on the phone trying to get out of fukubuchou duty for today . . . ." Ishida jumped into the conversation on cue, joining the group from out of the bedroom with a smothered yawn. Uchimura trailed behind, sliding on his usual cap.

"Your turn," he said as he passed Kamio, holding up a hand tag team style.

"Yeah," Ishida agreed. "So . . . we'll be making a doughnut run – yes, Masaya, all of us. Be back in 30, okay?"

"Tetsu is so tactful," Sakurai singsonged, and Ishida swatted him.

"Sakurai, let's keep the mischief until after breakfast," Tachibana's voice, with a slight tenor of buchou-ness, came from the bedroom. Snapping shut his cellphone as he strode over to the group, Tachibana focused mainly on Kamio.

"I've got to meet Keigo for an hour or so," he said, frowning. "But then I'll be back. Kamio, will you be okay here?"

Kamio flushed. He wasn't the one everyone was supposed to be worried about. "I'm fine, I'll be fine," he muttered. "Just – Ishida, bring back some powdered doughnuts too. Not only that crap with the cream. And Shinji likes melon bread."

"Hai hai," Ishida gave a good-natured salute and steered Sakurai toward the door. Everyone else followed obediently, stretching out sore backs and shoulders as they walked.

"He's waiting for you," Tachibana said, resting a comforting hand on Kamio's shoulder. "But if you don't want to yet . . . ."

"What?" Kamio blinked rapidly. "Of course I want to see him. Why wouldn't I?"

"You did run out of the room the moment he woke up," Tachibana reminded him diplomatically.

Kamio flushed. "Oh, that – I mean, no, that wasn't . . . ." He sighed, pressing a hand against his forehead, and made a weak attempt at a grin. "Is this what being a captain feels like?"

Tachibana chuckled. "Akira, there were six of you. Forget about bleaching my hair, there were days when I thought it would turn white from watching all of you. But I never regretted it for a minute."

Kamio unconsciously squared his shoulders, responding to the resolution in his buchou's words. That was right.

He wasn't going to regret anything again.

--

Shinji was sitting in bed in a pile of blankets, looking embarrassed, exhausted, and generally hugged.

His eyes widened a little as Kamio entered, as if he would rather be anywhere else.

"Good morning," he mumbled nervously, slight color touching his pale face.

Kamio sighed. An-chan was right. He was completely adorable.

"Morning." He looked at the rumpled Shinji. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Shinji ran a hand through his hair, the strands falling into place. "Thirsty," he added. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that. I really don't know why it suddenly happened. I didn't want it to."

Kamio waved off the apology. "Nah, this last week has been pretty intense, huh?"

Shinji nodded and looked down at his hands.

Kamio sat down beside him, nudging him with his shoulder. "Hey," he said seriously, "don't stop talking on me now. I don't want to feel like I just dragged you back here without even asking your opinion about it. Even though I kind of did."

"I want to be here," Shinji said quickly. "I'm sorry to make you worry. I want to say it won't happen again. I don't feel like it will. But I wasn't expecting it to happen this time, either so I can't say for certain. That must be annoying. And I'm sorry about the Nationals. I haven't ever officially said that, but I am. Kirihara-kun's right, that's something I can never replace."

Kamio sighed. "I have a feeling everyone else has already said everything that I would say, so just – don't worry so much about it. We don't know what might have happened so it's no use dwelling too much on it, you know? I mean, there are more important things, more important than the past."

"Hyoutei won that year, right?"

"Yeah," Kamio grinned wryly. "Hiroshi gekokujou'd them right to the top. Fudoumine, we didn't really – I mean, we weren't really -"

"Because of me."

"Tachibana-san wasn't there either," Kamio said uncomfortably, "so we might not have had enough players anyhow . . . . And Mori hurt his wrist that year, which would have caused problems no matter what --"

"Akira –" Shinji stopped, seemed to change his mind. "You can tell me the truth," he said quietly. "I never want you to lie just to make me feel better. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you yesterday."

"Okay," said Kamio softly, reaching out to tuck dark hair back from his face. "Comb your hair and let's get ready breakfast. And oh – this is kind of a weird time for it, but seeing Momoshiro reminded me, and I got this out the other day when I went home. . . ." Picking it up from the desk, he held out a small bag with a logo in English writing on it. "Last time Echizen was here he left it for you."

Shinji flinched a little, frowned a little. "Echizen-kun?"

"Yeah, he comes back for vacation sometimes. I think he misses getting to say "mada mada da ne" in America. Anyway, I don't know why, 'cause he must have heard about what happened, but he just showed up at the street courts one day and gave me this for you. He was kind of cool about it. Just handed it over like he was sure you'd be back. Didn't even say anything snarky at all."

Carefully, Shinji peeled the seal away from the bag and opened it.

"Grip tape," he said.

He stared at the roll for a long time, blinking, then got out his racket, pulled the old tape away and started to wind the new material around the handle.

"There's still a lot left," he said eventually. "Do you want to use it?"

Kamio nodded and got out his racket, and quietly got a new grip.

--

Leaving Shinji to dress, Kamio was idly putting away dishes (immediately washed and set out to dry the night before, because Tachibana ran a tight ship) when the doorbell rang.

Setting down a plate, he walked over to the door and pulled it open. "Ishida, did you guys get drinks, cause we finished everything last —"

Then he noticed who it was out there, and almost shut the door again.

"What do you want?" he growled.

It was possibly the most suicidal thing Kirihara had ever done, to voluntarily approach the place where most likely an entire team of hyperprotective and angry boys on full Ibu-alert were camped out just waiting for any excuse to hit him. But it was still better than having An hate him.

Kirihara shifted uncomfortably on the doorstep. For all that he had so much necessary practice over the last few years, apologizing had never been his forte.

"Uh, hey, I came to talk to Ibu," he muttered. "Um, if that's okay. Please."

Kamio hesitated, not wanting to let Kirihara make things any worse, but Shinji had already figured out what was going on.

"It's fine," he said, padding up to the door looking still wan but collected. "Kirihara-kun, I should apologize for reacting so badly yesterday."

"No way," Kirihara protested awkwardly. "Look, I was out of line saying that stuff. I just – well, An was always upset thinking about you, and I don't like to see her upset, so I kind of took it out in a bad way. I mean, we all have Nationals issues, I guess – except maybe Seigaku. But uh, look, I don't really have a good way to make it up to you, but if you want I can help you practice a little. I mean, you suck right now but you weren't that bad before, so I can play a bit with you. If you want . . . ." he trailed off anxiously.

Shinji shook his head, a wave of still tangled hair. "You were just saying the truth. I was the one who was being insensitive in the conversation. It was good of you to want to protect An-chan. I can see why she likes you, even if you did once almost destroy Tachibana-san's ankle and temporarily blind Fuji-san. I know I won't be any challenge to you like I am now, but I'd appreciate your help."

"Ah, okay, cool." Kirihara scratched his nose, a little embarrassed. "So now I've got to go grovel to An but I kinda want to not get the crap beaten out of me by Ishida and everyone, so uh, I'll mail you later Kamio, okay? And we can set up some sort of schedule or something."

"Cool," Kamio agreed, more or less okay with Akaya as long as Shinji was. "And by the way," he added as Kirihara sidled cautiously away, "it's Uchimura you should really watch out for. He kicks – hard."

Kirihara winced. "Uh, yeah, thanks for the warning . . . "

"I don't remember Uchimura kicking," Shinji commented, frowning, as Kamio shut the door with a grin.

"That's 'cause you weren't there the year he joined martial arts to strengthen his reflexes," Kamio explained with a smirk "I think he just got fed up with all the jokes about him being so short. Anyway, he got pretty good at it – which is why Sakurai has a black eye in his yearbook picture, and Uchimura looks guilty in his. Oh, and speaking of Sakurai, just to let you know, he's still after your hair."

Shinji nodded. "Aa, I know, although I don't know why he's so interested in braiding it when An-chan already did that years ago."

Kamio blinked. "Really?"

"It was the year I didn't have enough money to buy her a birthday present, so she said that if I let her play with my hair that would present enough. I really don't know why everyone likes my hair so much. She's probably disappointed that I cut it, too. Anyway, I refused to wear the school uniform, though. I'd rather go without lunch for a few weeks and buy her something than have someone like Sakurai get ahold of a picture of that and tell everyone that I like dressing up in girl's clothing. But if you tell Sakurai about this I'll have to tell him about the time An-chan did get you to wear the uniform."

Kamio's face was suddenly as red as his hair. "Y-you know about that?"

"She showed me the pictures the other day." Shinji's expression was smug and maybe just a little something else.

Kamio sank against a wall in horror. "An-chan . . ."

In the following silence, Shinji took a quick step forward, hesitated. "Akira? I -"

Kamio felt himself tensing little at the sudden change in Shinji's tone, and the other boy quickly looked away, training his eyes on the floor.

"-I'll try not to be so much trouble from now on," he promised softly.

"It's not trouble if it's you, Shinji," Kamio said quietly, almost sighing because it was so true that it kind of hurt, somehow.

"--Hey?" he added impulsively as Shinji moved away toward the kitchen. "You still like melon bread, right?"

"Aa."

"Good."

When the others came back, they found Kamio collapsed snoring on a couch and, after group awwwing for a minute, tied his hair into braids. And took pictures.


Next: Atobe is incensed he had to wait this long to make an appearance in the story.

serenitatis417: Thanks for reading even if you don't dig the pairing! Not so many cameos are scheduled, I'm afraid, unless Echizen via grip tape counts . . . .