Author's Note: "The nature versus nurture debate concerns the relative importance of an individual's innate qualities versus personal experiences in determining or causing individual differences in physical and behavioural traits," – sourced directly from Wikipedia, which clearly makes it the One and Only Truth XD

But there you have it, because something should be said about Yanagi, Sanada and the massive amount of work that I'm sure goes on behind the scenes. Set within the dreary confines of the empty locker room sometime after Yukimura's hospitalization (so December-ish, I guess, if we are to trust the PairPuri timeline), this one is all about the magnificent problem child that is Kirihara Akaya and the 'nurture' part of the equation.

On a side note, I honestly think that Yanagi's personal brand of cruelty is far worse than Sanada's Fist of Doom, because how do you go about healing wounds that don't scar?

Disclaimer: The Prince of Tennis is not mine.

N is for Nurture

#

"...and there went another one," muttered Sanada tersely over his shoulder. "What excuse are we going with this time?"

Yanagi smiled knowingly at his own reflection, administrating the last finishing touches to the cheap, stripy cloth around his neck, mostly unfazed by the sudden outburst. It was a little-known fact even amongst themselves – and judging from the remarkable speed at which regulars and non-regulars alike dispersed in all kinds of directions as soon as practise had ended, it was likely to remain the case for at least the foreseeable future – but for all his infamous personality and various moods, Rikkai's Demon Emperor was actually (for the most part) perfectly harmless. Of course, that said, it wasn't like Sanada Genichirou to sulk in peace for very long, although it certainly was rare for him to willingly break the usual, self-imposed silent treatment this quickly.

(But then, Yanagi supposed that despite his impassive exterior – or indeed because of it – Genichirou was exactly the sort of person who would get upset about these things quite easily. Well, he would just have to remember to be considerate.)

"Genichirou," began Yanagi kindly, "don't you think you're overreacting? After all, it was only a sprained ankle."

Sanada took a deep breath, carelessly shoving his still-damp towel into one of the side compartments of his racquet bag. "That Kenji had to be carried to the infirmary on a damn stretcher!" he snarled accusingly.

"Exactly. Hardly anything life-threatening," commented Yanagi airily from his corner of the room, calmly shrugging on a sweater. "Though, I must say, your concern for his wellbeing is really rather touching."

"But the school...!" Sanada felt compelled to point out, with forced calm, through gritted teeth. "The school is going to ask questions. And what about the parents?"

Yanagi's lips curled sharply at the corners. With everything else going on in their lives, Genichirou was seriously concerned about this? Oh, please.

"Details."

Sanada heaved a loud, frustrated sigh, slamming the door to his locker shut with a resounding bang, and the Master supposed that he might have overstepped his mark by just a little. Maybe. "Yes, yes, I'll stop my teasing," he conceded graciously. "But honestly, Genichirou, you shouldn't worry so much. Let me handle this. I'll think of something."

Sanada scoffed. "Aa," he agreed darkly, struggling with the knot of his own tie. "I'm sure you will."

"But that's not the point, was what you wanted to say, isn't it?" remarked Yanagi mildly, reaching for his overcoat. "And before you ask, yes, you really are that easy to read."

Sanada harrumphed, barely biting back the scorching retort on the tip of his tongue. Now was not the time to pick a fight. Not after everything that had happened – that was still happening – and especially not with Yukimura still at the... at the... Hell, Sanada didn't even want to think about it. But it certainly wasn't easy not to when it was plain as day for anyone to see that Kirihara, who had always struck Sanada as just a few loose screws away from going haywire anyway, was getting seriously out of control. It was nothing short of a damn miracle (one undoubtedly brought about by a benevolent third-party, probably Yagyuu and his shameless meddling) that the junior hadn't been reported to the school yet, but for some truly inexplicable reason, Yanagi Renji seemed content with ignoring the whole situation. In fact, Yanagi seemed largely indifferent to Kirihara's increasingly erratic behaviour, and Sanada could not – would not – let that go, because even without Yukimura at the helm, they were still Rikkai Dai, dammit, and as such they had a name and a reputation to worry about.

"Renji," he muttered, roughly zipping up his racquet bag, "this is unacceptable! We can't—"

"If you are referring to this afternoon's incident, we both know that could easily have been avoided."

Sanada cringed inwardly. It was at once painfully obvious – in that entirely strange but special way that only a close friend understands – that Yanagi, who normally was all closed eyes, sky-high confidence and unruffled feathers, no matter what was thrown in his direction, was hard on the defensive. The curt, guarded quality that had crept into his voice reminded Sanada far too much of broken glass for comfort – hard and harsh and unbearably sharp, but at the same time so very brittle – and that would never be okay.

"Akaya's particular style of tennis is well-known to all our members," continued Yanagi flatly. "As is his training schedule, which specifically restricts his opponents to regular or pre-regular level only. Kenji-kun, who is neither, was aware of both when he challenged Akaya to that match."

Sanada turned around on his heel to come face to face with the Master. "Renji, you... you're actually defending such uncontrolled behaviour?" he demanded.

"Of course not! You're jumping to conclusions, Genichirou," snapped Yanagi irritably. "Akaya knows that he was wrong to waste 'Bloodshot' on such a weak opponent."

"Does he now?" Sanada pulled on his own heavy winter coat. "Sure could've fooled me."

"I know what you're thinking, but excluding Akaya from club activities would only make matters worse." Yanagi's locker door suddenly swung shut. "Not only that..." he added coolly, as the combination lock clicked in place. "Seiichi would never allow it."

"Yukimura isn't here to decide anything," replied Sanada bluntly, because as much as it hurt to say it, there was no point in pretending that their friend was involved in the everyday running of things anymore. "Besides, at the rate the brat is going, very soon even Yukimura wouldn't have much choice."

Yanagi looked down at his hands in defeat. It didn't take a genius to understand why Akaya was even angrier than usual and that he was dealing with the emotional overload the best that he could by taking it out on absolutely everyone around him, but even Yanagi was forced to admit that today's episode had been particularly brutal. Kenji Kazuma was not the first person to fall victim to Akaya's on-court violence since that incident with Seiichi – in fact, Kenji-kun was the third – nor was he likely to be the last.

So in his own way, Genichirou was correct to be wary of Akaya's behaviour. And although they had known from the beginning that the youngster's playing style was naturally intense, even encouraging it at times, something would have to be done about the situation.

"…I'll talk to Akaya again," said Yanagi at last, quickly wrapping his scarf around his neck.

"Talk to him?" Sanada snorted dismissively. "Like talking has done us much good before!"

Yanagi's lips were stretched in a thin, taut line. "You know what I think about that," he said, quietly picking up his tennis bag from the floor and walking towards the door.

"But what choice do we have?" called Sanada after him. "Renji, this can't go on for much longer! I won't stand for it!"

(We can't stand for it.)

"Then what do you propose we do, exactly?" asked Yanagi coldly, putting on his shoes. "Backhand him every time he gets overexcited?"

Sanada shrugged. "What Kirihara lacks is self-discipline," he declared, reaching for his own pair of outdoor shoes.

"And you think you can beat it into him?"

Yanagi didn't expect an answer, nor did he receive one. Instead, he watched Sanada finish tying his shoelaces, then stepping forward to hold open the door for the both of them to exit through. "Genichirou..." he ventured once they were outside in the cold dark. There was an overwhelming stillness in the air that made it quite clear that they could expect more snow later. "He's not an animal."

There was a soft click, and Yanagi caught a brief glimpse of metallic sheen before Genichirou slipped Seiichi's key to the clubhouse back into his pocket.

"Why are you telling me?" said Sanada gruffly, at once unable and unwilling to look Yanagi in the eye. "I'm not the one playing ringmaster."

And with that, the Emperor muttered his goodbyes and left.

The Master stood in front of the locked door for a long, long time.