Wrote this one a while ago; hadn't though to post it. Tachibanacest, to hopefully balance out that one pairing that I HATE that everyone seems to be writing lately. THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE TOMOSAKU! GO TENIYURI!

So...Kippei/An, a pairing which I love to death, and one of the few Tenipuri het pairings I can stand, the others being Inoue/Shiba and Hanamura/Reiji. And Nanjirou/Rinko. ...I would also be able to stand anything with Yumiko, simply because Yumiko. Is. The. SEX.

...Yeah. Anyways, to the story. Cute, fluffy, barely-there incest.

Disclaimer: Not mineeeee.

When she was starting elementary school, she was in the same class Kippei had been the year before. Their mother kissed the top of her head, handed her a bento, straightened her bow, and pushed her gently through the front door of the school building. She'd been expecting her mother to walk her to the classroom, and she shrank back against the wall in sudden fear. But it seemed only natural for Kippei to take her hand and lead her to the room, take her in and show her where he'd sat, his favorite toys and the best place to lay at naptime. The teacher had quickly shooed him out, but it was long enough. She wasn't nervous anymore.

When it was time for them to pick their seats, she'd gotten a wave from Keiko-chan, who lived next door. An had shaken her head, though. Since Kippei had shown her his old seat, it seemed only natural that's where she would sit. It wasn't a choice she thought about, it just was.The teacher smiled a bit to see another little figure curling up in the corner near the bookshelves, clutching the yellow bunny…though before she noticed the girl's uniform, she'd thought the elder Tachibana had snuck back in while her back was turned. She almost laughed to see the determined firebrand she remembered from last year waiting outside her classroom door to walk his little sister home. She recalled him having a strong sense of responsibility, of course, but there was something fiercely protective in the way he took An's bag for her and held tightly to her hand.

An had ended up in Kippei's previous class for the next two years as well, and she always claimed his old seat. When class bored her, she would trace with her finger the little marks he'd made in the desk from pressing too hard with his pencil. He'd shown them to her when he showed her the room; told her they spelled his name. She traced them often enough that she learned how to write his name before she learned her own, and she'd shown him one day on the way home, drawing it with her finger in the dust that surrounded the tennis courts he always stopped at. They usually just stayed there a few minutes, watching—him enraptured by the tennis matches, and her mesmerized by his face as he watched them, the sheer beauty of his expression. That day, though, they'd stayed for almost 15 minutes as he taught her the proper stroke order, his hand on top of hers, guiding through the dust.

That was all she could think of the next day, and she wrote it dreamily over her section of the mural they were finger-painting in class. The teacher looked at her a bit oddly, complemented her for knowing, and asked her to paint something else on top of it. She covered it with green handprints, but let bits of the red peek through, insisting to the teacher that they were flowers. She checked for them whenever she passed the mural after that—even covered up, it made her happy to know it was there.

In her fourth year she was assigned a different teacher than Kippei'd had, and she burst out crying when she heard the news. Their mother didn't understand why, but Kippei did, and he held her until she stopped. She never quite felt comfortable in that classroom: it felt foreign even at the end of the school year. That was the same year he'd joined the tennis club, and she'd demanded he teach her as well…partially because she wanted to know about anything her brother was so interested in, but mostly just to watch him play close up…all power and grace. She thought it was the most beautiful thing she'd seen in her life.

She declined their mother's offer to pick her up from school now that she couldn't walk home, saying she would just wait the hour for Kippei to finish practice, and walk home with him. Their mother patted her head and complemented her patience, which An thought was odd. She didn't need patience to stare at Kippei for an hour—even through the fence, she took as much pleasure in watching him practice as he took in the practice itself. He still held her hand when they walked home, and their mother asked if he didn't get teased for it. An thought that was odd as well—nevermind that all the boys in Kippei's grade held him in too much awe/fear/respect to ever tease him, it seemed perfectly natural to her that they should hold hands, no matter how old they were.

In fifth year, her friends began to talk about boys. She found it a little odd, but didn't notice that much, until Keiko asked her who she had a crush on. She'd blinked, and just stared for a while, until Keiko waved a hand in front of her face.

"There's got to be someone you like! Think!"

So An thought, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't think of a single boy who even came close to Kippei. She shook her head. Keiko blinked, and looked at her oddly.

"You're weird, An."

She'd asked Kippei about it that day, walking home, and he'd glanced away awkwardly, face turning red. He reluctantly told her she was probably just a little slower to develop than Keiko and her other friends, and she shouldn't worry about it. She stared at his face as they walked, watching him as he stared straight ahead. Could she really ever be as fascinated by someone else? It seemed impossible. What about him? Was there a girl at school he stared at, who waited for him at the corners of hallways like Keiko waited for her crush-of-the-moment? Would he marry that girl some day? She didn't want to think about it.

An tightened her grip on her brother's hand, tearing her eyes from his face. They were passing the street courts where he'd taught her to write his name. They didn't stop there anymore since he'd joined the team, and she missed it.

I'll hold onto you for as long as I can, aniki, she thought, pulling him towards the courts. He jolted out of his daze, startled.

"An?"

"I want you to teach me tennis, aniki."

Note: Most people think of "Aniki" as a Yuuta thing, but if you listen to An answer the phone in episode 71 (It's a Date!), she says "Aniki!"