"Alright, put the equipment away, ore-sama declares practice to be over." Atobe huffed with a snap. "Fair job today, but ore-sama will expect better tomorrow."

Save for the few stubborn souls, a majority of the Yukimatsuri tennis club collapsed with a collective groan. Atobe had not been idle today as lap after lap after drill after practice match had been assigned to the club members. The freshman regular, who still practiced his drills with the rest of his classmates save for when he was with the rest of the regulars, was one of those few still on their feet.

Taki watched as the boy let out a breathy laugh and offered a hand to his nearest neighbor. The other freshman grumbled but accepted the hand and let Tsukino pull him to his feet. The raven haired regular went around pulling a few other guys up, always the ones who were not breathing as hard, and ushered them to get water and then slowly begin to collect balls and rackets. A few of them cast sidelong glares at the boy with the cap, but for the most part they followed his lead as if they were quite accustomed to it. They couldn't have all been from Hyoutei. Even If they were, Taki had seldom seen this strange lack of grumbling and whining.

It was quite evident why Ohtori had selected this particular boy to be his successor. In fact it was hard to imagine why he had not been made Buchou.

Tsukino was very like Atobe, Taki thought; he robbed your attention without prejudice and never quite gave it all back. He played the court as if he ruled it. He wielded his strength in a way that even the most resentful of his peers gave him grudging respect. Everyone else was lost to those sparkling eyes and winning smile.

However, he was like Atobe the way Echizen had been like Tezuka: so close, but still so far off.

He was quietly strong, amiably and gently so where his predecessor was forceful. While no one dared question Atobe's leadership, no one thought to question Tsukino's. Atobe ruled as naturally as he breathed. Tsukino ruled as if it were only natural, like breathing. People followed Atobe because it was imperative to do so. People followed Tsukino because it would be absurd not to.

Taki contemplated quietly as he clocked in all of the tennis club members. The freshmen were still running around cleaning up, cheerful now that their strength had returned. Tsukino was among them, chatting, smiling, playfully chiding those who did something wrong or slacked and fixing it promptly. They had never been this efficient back in Hyoutei.

"Taki-senpai," The raven haired boy came to a stop before him. "All the equipment has been put away and accounted for, even the nets. I checked with the 2nd years' Nakamori-senpai."

"Alright," the bolder boy nodded, "You're done then, go ahead and change."

Tsukino nodded and began to walk off. Taki watched after his retreating back before he added. "I'm freer than I normally like to be this afternoon, so I was wondering if you would like to do something."

"Really?" another of those guilt-inducing brilliant smiles dawned on the younger boy's face. For but a moment Taki could almost see a twinge of relief behind the metallic sheen of those polished silver eyes, so different from the hunter's gaze Taki had last witnessed. "Thank you Taki senpai, I would love to come if you want me there."

"Meh? You're going somewhere?" A voice behind them piped eagerly. Two jersey clad arms wound around the neck and shoulders of the smallest regular. Taki mentally groaned. Of all the days that Jirou would choose to wake up on time. Of course he always wanted to go to everything. Jirou missed out on a lot of team outings, being asleep all the time. "Can I come? Can I come? It'll be like our first teammate bonding since practically forever!"

Taki could feel the impending headache. Oh well, Jirou would fall asleep soon enough. He could talk to Tsukino as he took them both home.

-scene change—

It was not often that Taki Haginosuke would lose his cool. He had no intention of doing so now, no matter how incredibly aggravating Jirou got.

You heard him. The thought of how close Taki was to blowing up in the face of cute, adorable, loveable, Akutagawa Jirou was laughable. Yet, it did not change how true the claim was.

For the last hour or so, Jirou had been in one of his rare waking streaks, chattering away like a babbling brook. Even now, while they were on the limo to his home, the blonde had yet to release control of the conversation. Despite Taki's best efforts to steer the topic towards the circumstances of Tsukino's time at Hyoutei, the raven haired boy had barely been able to get a significant word in edgewise.

For his part, the freshman had happily allowed his excitable senpai to dominate the talk and only added his two bits once in a blue moon in reply. Unlike normal people who could only bear so much of Jirou's random ranting, the boy seemed earnestly eager to listen. The scary part is, Taki didn't think he was pretending, which no doubt egged Jirou on.

By the time they dropped Tsukino of at his house, Taki was convinced he and Jirou were made for one another.

It was affirmed by Jirou's sudden lack of energy once the younger boy left. He definitely didn't fall right asleep, but the blonde had leaned back into the plush seat of the limo with a lazy but content smile on his face.

"Chibi-chan is so cute isn't he?" Jirou smiled serenely. Taki let a small grimace over his face.

"You're finally tuckered out, hm?" he asked playfully, careful to hide his less than friendly disposition toward the blonde right now.

"You're silly, Taki," Jirou chuckled granting Taki a few second's view of the tip of his tongue. He yawned. "I was really tired! Tsu-chin seemed to be really happy though so how could I fall asleep and spoil it for him? I have to be a good senpai to my little chibi, don't I? It'd rude to sleep when you're invited out."

Taki felt like hitting his forehead…repeatedly…preferably with something heavy.

-Scene change—

Tsukino was in her room poring over her notes on Seigaku's Kikumaru Eiji as her cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Ne, chibi-chan," a good natured voice greeted her.

"Jirou-senpai?" she asked, "Do I want to know how you got my cell number?"

"Mah, for your sake, probably not. We'll just say I know some people," the boy on the other end of the line laughed. "I needed to tell you something though. It's very important."

"Oh?"

"Reiki-chan," Jirou's voice suddenly deepened, surprising his young kouhai. "Stay the hell away from Taki."

"Wha-why senpai?" the girl wondered, confused and a little shocked. She thought it was good that Taki senpai didn't hate her. She wasn't on the look-out for enemies.

"Because the emperor has set his dog on you. It will not take long for the faithful bloodhound to catch your scent, chibi-chan; be on guard, lest you are ratted out," Jirou warned over the phone. "Trust me Reiki-chan. I know when Atobe begins to move. Taki is his frontline…Stick with me. I'll take you where you'd never been able to go."

"…Jirou-senpai sounds like a delinquent right now," Tsukino teased. She couldn't help it.

"And just for that, you are meeting me Wednesday after practice for some special senpai-kouhai bonding time," the older boy informed her cheerfully.

"You are laughing at me right now…aren't you senpai?" the girl sighed.

"No not quite yet…give me a few seconds"

-Scene Change-

"Ne, Tori-senpai, can you give me five minutes?"

Ohtori Choutarou caught the ball that ricocheted off the green wall. It was individual practice today so everyone got to work on their own separate skills. Since his doubles partner had to be excused on account of a make-up assignment, he had been working on his weaker back-hand for the last ten minutes. "Sure Tsuki-kun, what do you have for me?"

"Senpai, you're depending on your elbow a lot when you back-hand," the younger boy opened to a blank sheet on his handy notebook and drew a rough sketch. Choutarou, who was now used to the quick diagramming but still not much good at reading, waited patiently for him to explain. "See, you're trying to hit it just like you'd hit a fore-hand elbow aligned with shoulder; but that actually isn't efficient. Since the back hand moves across the body, the two forces aren't going in the same direction, so you're really not using much shoulder strength in your shot. You're physically strong enough that it generally doesn't make as much of a difference when playing with normal players…but in a tournament…well every little bit helps, ne?"

"Ah I see," he answered. "I've been told that before, I think. I'm not sure how to fix it though. The coach says pull back, but it feels really awkward when I pull my shoulder back."

"Hm….It's better if we do some hands-on work I think," the freshman pulled on the brim of his cap, adjusting it to keep the sun out of his eyes.

They snagged a court not being used and a good supply of balls.

"Alright senpai, try not to move," the shorter boy called. "I'm going to put it right in front of you, don't worry."

Tsukino began to serve towards Choutarou…in really, really awkward places. It always required a back-hand but it always went for his chest or farther than he'd like. It required him to turn in sloppy half pivots that just frustrated him. Now, let it not be said that it was easy to get Ohtori Choutarou to blow his top, but even his patience was really being tested here. He knew full well that Tsukino has never done anything without a purpose, but that steady confidence as he kept lobbing balls out of his way was annoying in ways he forgot the little boy could be.

Somewhere after the 30th ball he lost it. He planted his feet firmly on the ground twisted his long torso and rotated his broad, powerful shoulders and sent the offending green orb back to its original player with all the sheer raw power of the infamous Scud Server. All anyone could see was a green flash right by his racket before the ball itself was grating so hard against the chain link fence it stuck there, still spinning.

"Tori-senpai," the capped boy whispered. His voice was breathy, almost reverent.

"I did it," Choutarou said, more to confirm it for himself than anything. Joy welled inside his shaky voice as he turned to look at his younger friend. "I did it. I…Tsuki-kun! Your face!"

A red welt had bloomed almost as if in after thought on the fair skin of his opponent's face, like a tiger stripe, streaking under quicksilver eyes that were already lighting up in a euphoric grin. The junior tried to apologize to his little friend, but the boy waved off Choutarou's motherly concerns as he began to babble and bounce excitedly on his heels. It was as if he could not feel the pain.

"Did you see that?" he asked, "Tori-senpai that was…oh wow. I didn't…dang I just thought that if I kept hitting it in the right places…you'd have to turn anyway to reach the shots and eventually you would rotate your body on impulse. I never would have expected…damn I can't begin to…"

"What's going on?" A familiar voice carried into the court. Ohtori Choutarou turned his head to find a freshly changed Shishido Ryou standing just off court with a racket slung over his shoulder. His eyes were staring hard at the ball still lodged in the twisted metal. "Man Choutarou; that was some shot."

A frown creased his brows as he approached the two. "What the hell happened to your face chibi?"

"It's nothing, sheesh, senpai-tachi is so fussy today!" Tsukino huffed. "Shishido-senpai, you SAW that right? That was a backhand! That kind of frightening counter attack was a backhand. I am so jealous now! Imagine what that kind of shot could DO to an opponent. Even I was panicking just now, and I know Tori-senpai would never hurt me on purpose."

His smile was borderline delirious now and he was scribbling furiously into the chosen notebook of the day. "We definitely need to do that again sometime so I can record initial and final speed and calculate the apparent weight of your Fi. If you give me time tomorrow so I can film…"

With a sigh, Choutarou plucked the pencil from the slender, delicate finger, planted a large hand firmly on top of the freshman's blue capped head, silenced him with a stern look, and held him still. The other one came up to cup the small pixie-like chin, and pale fingers pressed lightly against the pale skin before the junior gently titled his kouhai's pouting face up to examine the graze mark more carefully. He winced when he noticed it was bleeding. Tsukino was so careless with himself. Sometimes it was cute, but other times it was very worrying.

"That doesn't look good," the silver haired regular declared. "You'll need to get that looked at. I can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry. Come on, we'll head over to Taki-senpai so he can clear you to go to the infirmary."

"Wait, wait, THE INFIRMARY?" the youngest protested incredulously, "It's barely a scratch senpai. I'll just get a band aid or something if you really think it's necessary..."

"No idiot," Shishido interceded with a disapproving grunt. "You're bleeding, and that's a graze mark not a cut. It'll take longer to scab over than you think. That and it was caused by a tennis ball which by now has bounced who-knows-where. At least dab some damn alcohol on."

"Meh, so paranoid, senpai."

There was a flash of pink tongue and the slightest little smirk before the young boy dashed over to where Taki was setting up water for the rest of the club. The silver pair remained speechless staring after the retreating form. After a while, with a theatrical sigh and tired smile back at his partner Choutarou made to go after his young friend. By this time the boy was not 10 yards away from Taki, so Shishido reach out and grabbed his partner's hand.

"Ne, the kid's alright, look," he said grinning, "He's getting fawned over already. Come on, show me what you just did."

After checking that Tsukino was already being ushered in the direction of the main school building by Taki, towel held to his cheek, Choutarou nodded and picked up another ball.

-Scene change-

"Reiki-chan is really too careless," a familiar voice lamented almost mockingly. It stopped Ohtori Choutarou in his tracks. He had thought Jirou-senpai was still back in the club room, and he wasn't aware that the older boy was on a given-name basis with his favorite kouhai. "It's really not cute, ne?"

"You too, really?" the freshman's voice replied. Not many besides Choutarou could detect the little whine underneath the cool tone. It amused the older boy how Tsukino never showed much negative emotion. He always said it was unprofessional. "It was barely a scratch, not even worth mentioning."

Choutarou thought back to the time he walked into Tsukino icing his leg after a bad sprain. As with every time he pictured it, a phantom pain ached in his own calves at the thought of the long white jagged scar running down the younger boy's slender right leg. No doubt it had been one of the unwanted memoirs of his less than ideal origins.

Choutarou knew, from the occasional subconscious mutterings of his young friend and his family's thorough background check, that Tsukino Reiki was a former street rat. Rather he was one of those unregistered street orphans, aptly named red light children, who didn't have so much as a birth certificate to call their own. As competent as the agents they hired were, not even Ohtori Pharmaceuticals were able to find record of little freshman beyond his adoption by the Tsukino family. Reiki himself was less than forthcoming about his past life.

"It's a pity," Jirou sighed tragically. "You're wasting such a pretty little face. It's shallow enough to scab over quickly but your skin was essentially ground off your face; so sad. You'll have to keep using the salve if you don't want any noticeable scarring. You don't want any scars, do you? Isn't that why you hide your leg?"

Choutarou froze. He was certain that he was the only one who knew about that. Tsukino was always so touchy about his scars. Did he really tell Jirou about them, when even Choutarou had to wrestle every little bit of the information younger boy stubbornly held on to? When had they grown so close?

"…Should I even bother to ask how you knew, Jirou-senpai, or do I not wish to know?" Tsukino asked coolly, a little resigned, after a long pause. So he actually hadn't been any more lenient with his past than usual. This still begs the question of how Akutagawa Jirou routed it out at all.

"No, you probably don't. We'll just say I know a few things," Jirou sang back teasingly. "Ne, but you should still tell your precious Tori-senpai to be a little bit more careful. You're not as brutishly strong as he and Shishido are, and I really don't like seeing you all marked up like that."

"What are you talking about? It was my fault for not catching the backhand, not Tori-senpai's," the freshman immediate contested. There was an annoyed edge to his voice as he defended his predecessor. "He was practicing and doing very well, thank you very much. And I am not 'all marked up'! I was just barely nicked a bit. It's nothing to cry to the heavens about even if I were that pathetic."

"He went and hurt you….on your face, by his ball. That's just a bad place to injure someone," the senior insisted. For some reason, in spite of Tsukino's valiant defense on his behalf, Choutarou couldn't help but feel something stab him inside when he heard Jirou's frigid reply. The junior had a very good point."He needs to be more careful with my darling little kouhai."

"Since when did I belong to you?" the younger boy growled darkly from the back of his throat. By then, it sounded like Tsukino had lost the even composure that always masked his frowns and pouts.

"Since I came and he didn't." The junior answered mercilessly.

"He's probably with Shishido-senpai. They go well together," Tsukino pointed out. Choutarou wasn't sure if that was worse than Jirou's cutting words or not. It was true, he did want to spend a lot more time with Shishido-senpai now that it was his last year in high school. He hadn't meant to be so engrossed in it that he would neglect the little boy who shadowed him all through his last year as a middle school student. "And Shishido-senpai is a decent guy. He's a little foul-mouthed sometimes, but he takes care of people, so Tori-senpai is in wonderful hands. And anyway, I'll have him to myself next year, so it's fine."

Taking a risk, he peeked through the crack in the door. Luckily the curtains were partially drawn about the bed Tsukino was currently perched upon. It obscured Choutarou from their view but he could still see part of them and a silhouette. Tsukino was sitting cross-legged on the bed. Jirou, who was seated on the floor, seemed to have folded his arms across the younger boy's lap and was pillowing his head on top of them, glancing up.

"So does that mean you're all mine this year?" The Akutagawa heir wondered aloud? His voice was a lot gentler now, almost unassuming, as if he were talking about a doll. Something heavy dropped to the pit of Choutarou's stomach.

It was no secret to him that Akutagawa Jirou could not possibly be all that meets the eye. He was after all the future owner of one of the largest business conglomerates in Asia. He couldn't be the affable, confused, innocent face he presented to the public, not in their world. Yet, nothing could have prepared the 2nd son of the Ohtori family for the cold, sarcastic, possessive person that was in there now, with his beloved kouhai.

He didn't like this Jirou who acted like the aristocrat he should be. He didn't like this Jirou who claimed Tsukino Reiki as his, and would no doubt influence the freshman in all the wrong ways. He didn't like this Jirou who was willing to twist one of the most innocent things that could be found in his life of excess and cruelty into his own demonic design.

"I don't suppose you will be giving me the choice of refusing your charming company," Tsukino answered with a sigh of resignation. "But I refuse to be your plaything Jirou-senpai. Please do remember that."

Choutarou bit his bottom lip in thought. He then turned and skulked back down the hall silently. There the silver haired young man schooled his face into the gentle smile he knew was characteristic of him and then walked back to the infirmary with deliberate strides, the heels of his school shoes clicking quite audibly on the linoleum floor.