Title: Kirihara Akaya

Author: Stormy1x2 ( travelingstorm )

Challenge: LJ's fanfic100

Prompts: 41 to 50

Pairings: Very, very mild Sana x Yuki, or Platinum Pair. Mild hint of Sengoku Akaya

Warnings: Language, mature themes

Notes: Again, did these prompts a little differently. Is deliberately vague re: Senbatsu Camp dialog because I can't find a transcript online and my laptop ate my cd's. Don't like it, tough – there's the back button. Change the timeline of the camp slightly as you'll see – I claim AU status.

--------------------------------

041. Shapes

Akaya drummed his fingers on the desk irritably. He hated math almost as much as he hated English, but if he didn't get his homework done, it would go on his record. That would affect his status on the tennis team, and that could possibly keep him from going to the Senbatsu Camp. Which meant, he sighed internally, that he had to finish his homework.

When he was a world famous tennis player, rich from endorsement contracts, he would have accountants to handle stupid math matters. Unfortunately, his teacher didn't quite understand that, and so he was stuck with three pages of equations that were making his head spin. Caught up in calculus, he almost didn't hear the door open behind him.

"Akaya."

He tried not to jump. He really did. Kirihara whirled around, automatically tensing. His mother was in the doorway, holding a piece of paper. His eyes narrowed in on it – it was the letter inviting him to the camp. He froze.

"...Yeah?"

"I saw this downstairs," she said, watching him evenly. "What is it?"

A sarcastic remark was on the tip of his tongue but he knew better then to even contemplate letting it out. "It's an invitation to a tennis camp," he said quietly.

"What tennis camp?"

"The Senbatsu Camp. After a week, they pick the players that will represent Japan in the Japan/America Goodwill Games."

She nodded vaguely. Akaya was apprehensive – his mother didn't just drop by to talk about things like this. She'd been leaving him to his own devices for a few years now, and had never expressed much of an interest in his tennis abilities.

"Are we expected to pay for this camp?"

So that was it. Kirihara gave a silent sigh of relief. "No. I was invited. The camp is paid for by sponsors of the Games."

She nodded again, still staring at him with an expression Kirihara couldn't identify. Then she motioned with the paper. "Are you a good player?"

If you'd ever come to any one of my games, you'd know. Akaya shrugged. "They invited me," was all he said. Bragging could be seen as backtalk, and while his parents had trouble finding things to argue over, one thing they agreed on was that backtalk from him gained him a quick smack in the face.

A third nod. After a minute, she dropped the paper on the dresser and walked back out. Kirihara watched her go, confused and relieved at the same time. The whole thing had made him uncomfortable. Dealing with his mother for extended lengths of time was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole – it just didn't work, no matter what you did.

He walked over to the table, picked up the paper, folded it and put it in the photo album he kept under his bed. Then, with a sigh, he went back to his desk.

Those math problems weren't going to finish themselves.

Word Count: 492 / 12052

042. Triangle

He should have known better. He'd let the reasonably easy interaction with his mother drop his guard. Sanada-fukou-buchou was always reminding him about that, to always stay on your toes. As usual, he was right.

Slowly, and a little unsteadily, Akaya got to his feet, bracing one hand against the wall for balance. Across the room in front of him, his father breathed heavily, glaring daggers at him. "You watch your mouth."

He'd let his guard down. He'd thought that since his mother hadn't said anything against the camp, it was okay to mention it at dinner to her. His father had ignored him up until he mentioned that two of his teammates were going as well. His father had snorted, asking if girly kid with the faggot hair that had stopped by one day to pick Kirihara up for practice during first year – Yukimura-buchou – was going. Akaya had automatically rose to the defense of his captain, replying with a quick, "He's not girly!"

Kirihara watched his father warily. He'd forgotten how fast the old man's reflexes were. After all, he'd been an athlete in his own right, when he was younger.

To the right of him, standing by the dining room doorway, his mother didn't move. Her lips were pressed together, and her eyes flickered from him to his father and back. The three of them stood in their respective corners, watching, like some strange showdown. Then his mother spoke. "You know better then to talk back, Akaya."

He could still feel the sharp sting of his father's hand on his cheekbone. Yeah, he knew better. Luckily, he didn't bruise easily. After a day or two, any mark would barely be noticeable. "Sorry."

His father snorted again, and then turned around, sitting himself down in front of the television, effectively dismissing them all. Kirihara sent a cautious look to his mother, who raised her chin and sent him a hard look. "Go to your room."

Gladly. Kirihara went upstairs. As he passed through his door, he paused, and made a mark on his calender. Another day closer to the camp.

It wasn't much, but a week out of this house was sounding really, really good.

Word Count: 370 / 12422

043. Square

According to the notice, the camp would have laundry facilities and a team jersey provided. That made packing so much easier. Akaya threw a small bag of toiletries, socks, underwear, a couple of t-shirts and an extra pair of shorts into a small backpack. Though Niou was not going to be at the camp, a lot of people who weren't exactly fans of his would be, and Kirihara knew the value of having an extra set of clothes to combat pranksters.

His favorite roll of grip tape, an ace bandage (just in case), his extra pair of sneakers with the zig-zagging square treads, his cell phone with adapter, (he didn't care if they weren't supposed to bring them; what if 'Mura-buchou tried to call him? What if Marui found more kittens?), his Game Boy and his wrist weights went in his tennis bag. He was already wearing his ankle weights, so... that was it.

He checked the time – Sanada's father was picking up both him and Yanagi and driving them to school, where Rikkai had provided a van to take them to the Camp, about an hour drive away. A sudden honk outside told him they were already there.

Kirihara carried his things downstairs. His father had left for work earlier, and his mother was still cleaning up the breakfast dishes. Standing in the kitchen door, he cleared his throat. His mother turned her head to look at him.

"I'm, uh, leaving," he said, bowing his head quickly. "I... I'll be back in a week. My sempai's father is giving us a ride home."

She nodded. "The same one who's driving there today?"

"Yeah." He didn't know what else to say. "Um...see you then?"

She nodded again, and Kirihara turned, heading for the door, suddenly eager to get away. His mother had been acting weird for a couple of days now. The fights were occurring a little less frequently, but his mother was acting more distant than usual, which was saying a lot.

"Akaya?"

He paused in the front doorway. "Yeah?"

She was still looking at him strangely. Something twisted inside Akaya's stomach, but he pushed it aside. His mother opened her mouth, and then closed it; then she shook herself a little and spoke. "Good luck."

He blanked. That was the best way he could think of to describe it. "What?"

She was frowning now. "I said, good luck."

"Um, yeah. Thanks." He was sure his eyes were as wide as saucers. "I'll be fine. I'm going to be Singles One." He smiled, hesitantly.

She continued to look at him, uncomprehending what he said, and the initial thrill he'd felt crumbled a bit, reminding him that of course she wouldn't know what Singles One meant.

Clearing his throat, he repeated his goodbyes and headed out the door. And despite himself, a very small smile stayed on his face all the way to Senbatsu.

Word Count: 486 / 12908

044. Circle

"You will be polite to the coaches."

"Yes, Fukou-buchou." Hey, he wanted them to pick him.

"You will attempt to be respectful to the older players."

""Yes, Fukou-buchou." ...He said attempt. That gave some leeway.

"You will make a sincere effort to get along with your teammates and roommate."

"Yes, Fukou-buchou." Fighting would get him thrown out. Getting thrown out would not get him his Singles One position.

"You will not deface or vandalize any of the property."

"Yes, Fukou-buchou." He'd left his toy box behind, anyway.

"You will not bite any of the volunteers."

"Yes, Fukou-buchou." Apparently he was not going to be allowed to have any fun.

"Are you quite sure you haven't forgotten anything, Sanada?" Yanagi-sempai was smiling, damn his eyes.

In the driver's rear-view mirror, he could see Sanada-san's impassive face – but his eyes looked amused. Akaya scowled and sank further into his seat. Damn it.

"Cheer up, Akaya," Yanagi said, and tossed a box at his head. "Here, Yukimura sent this to you as a reward for being selected for the camp."

Kirihara brightened. A present from Buchou? He ripped the box open eagerly. A brand new tennis ball was inside, with something written on it. He pulled it out and studied it.

'Do your best, Akaya. You can do it. Behave yourself. '

It was the best present ever. He hugged the ball to his chest, ignoring the indulgent smile of Yanagi-sempai, and the rolling eyes of Fukou-buchou. Even Yukimura-Buchou thought he was gonna make Singles One.

Therefore, he'd just have to prove him right.

Word Count: 268 / 13176

045. Moon

"So, you're my roommate." The redhead flashed a blindingly white smile at him. "Does that make me lucky or not?"

Kirihara blinked, dropping his bag on the bed closest to the door. "What do you mean?"

Sengoku shrugged. "I've heard about you, Rik-kai-dai," he drawled, drawing out the syllables of his school's name. "But really, you look too cute to be a monster."

Before he could stop himself, Kirihara flinched. It was only the slightest of movements but he knew, by the way Sengoku's eyes narrowed fractionally, that the older boy had caught it. He shrugged it off. "It makes you lucky," he said, ignoring the 'monster' comment. "You should be honored."

The other boy chuckled. "If you say so, kiddo."

Akaya decided to ignore him and started unpacking his stuff. As he didn't have much, it didn't take very long. Sengoku seemed content to sit and watch him, but Kirihara was used to tuning out annoying people. He'd been practicing with Niou for the last two years.

He glanced out the dorm room window. The moon was getting high in the night sky, and they had an early morning practice. With that in mind, he grabbed his nightclothes and his toothbrush and headed for the door.

"Just so you know," Sengoku said suddenly. "I don't put much stock in rumors."

Akaya closed his eyes, leaning against the door. He didn't turn around. "You should."

"Why?"

"I hurt people," Kirihara said, turning around and smirking dangerously. "Didn't you hear?"

Sengoku smiled back, still friendly. "Are you trying to intimidate me?"

This was not typically how people who had seen him play, treated him. Kirihara cocked his head to the side. "You're not afraid of me?"

Sengoku burst out laughing. "Kid, I have had the dubious honor of attempting to restrain and calm one of the most violent psychopaths in the known world who happens to be a part of my tennis team. Even though he claims he won't play anymore," he added as an after thought. "You, I only have to watch out for on the court. With Akutsu-kun, one has to watch out for him off the court. Preferably armed with sedatives and a straight jacket."

"He's that nuts?"

"He has his moments," Sengoku said, still grinning. "But he can't be all bad. Little Taichi adores him, and he hasn't put the kid in the hospital yet."

Kirihara snorted, amused. "That the kid with the headband two sizes too big?"

"That's the one."

"Interesting."

"Yup." Sengoku tilted his head to the side, mimicking Akaya's earlier movement. "I think we'll get along just fine, Kirihara-kun."

Kirihara tentatively smiled back, feeling a bit overwhelmed, but also a sense of pride and a relief. Of all the things he'd expected to encounter on his first day, a possible friend was not one of them. "Me too."

Word Count: 478 / 13659

046. Star

Damn it!

Akaya stormed into the room he shared with Sengoku. The other boy wasn't there – no doubt he was still downstairs with the others discussing what had just happened.

Fucking Kamio. Fucking Fudomine. And their precious shining star, their crown prince of martyrdom, Tachibana.

Like a goddamned pack of wolves gnawing on a bone that's been chewed to death. He couldn't back down – hell, no matter how much he was changing his play, his style, he was not going to feel guilty for his victory over Tachibana. The guy could have quit long before his leg got that bad, but no, he just had to try and show off.

Stupid Kamio. Freaking redheads and their tempers. Akaya rubbed his temples and tried to forget the look in Kamio's eyes, or the wary expressions on the faces of everyone in the dining hall. They practically ignored Kamio's little fit other than pulling him off. And he hadn't even done anything!

Fuck. He'd hoped that the Camp would be his new starting point. The beginning of the end for his current limits. He couldn't change the past, but damn it, why was it so hard to change the future?

"Nasty, nasty," came a voice from the door. Akaya's head snapped up to see Sengoku standing there, waving casually. "Can I come in, or will you bite my head off?"

Akaya snorted and looked away.

Sengoku came in and sat down. "Joking, joking!" He handed his roommate a bottled water. "Here."

Well. That was unexpected. "Thanks." He took it, a tad warily.

"I think I told you I don't scare easily," Sengoku said calmly. "But you know, if the coaches get wind of this, it's not going to look good on you."

"You think I don't know that?" Kirihara snapped.

The redhead held up his hands defensively. "Gotcha."

Kirihara grumbled silently. As much as he hated to admit it, Sengoku hadn't done anything. In fact, he was being downright nice to him, and he had no reason to be. The least he could do was be a bit... nicer.

"Sengoku-san," he said quietly. He waited until the third year was looking at him, before muttering, "Sorry." He held up the water bottle. "And thanks."

Sengoku grinned. "You already thanked me for that."

Akaya scowled, flushing red. "So I'm doing it again!" he barked. He grabbed his clothes and stomped towards the door. He hated being embarrassed. "I'm getting ready for bed!"

"Good idea," Sengoku's cheerful voice came from behind him. "Early to bed, early to rise. Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise!"

Kirihara rolled his eyes and pulled the door shut behind him.

Word Count: 442 / 14101

047. Heart

He should have been more careful.

He should have ignored her. He should have kept walking and not said anything about her brother. She was already on edge with him, screaming about who he was targeting now, and damned if that didn't sting a little bit. He was trying. But she was obviously still broken-hearted that her brother couldn't attend the camp, and he was the reason why; yet he couldn't stop himself from making that stupid comment about her caring for her brother's welfare being disgusting. It was like his mouth was on autopilot, still used to making those deliberate kinds of comments that were so good at setting people up for the destructive play that he no longer had the drive for.

Kirihara thought it was kinda neat that he seemed to have so much time to think about all of this as he fell backwards, like a slow-motion replay.

Then he was falling faster; pain struck him, hard, and the last thing he saw before the darkness swept over him was her horrified eyes burning into his.

Word Count: 182 / 14282

048. Diamond

it was really irritating how no one listened to him. He'd said a dozen times already that he'd tripped on his own, that Kamio had nothing to do with his fall down the stairs, and that they should all just shut up about it, but no one was hearing a word he said. It was irritating, and aggravating and freaking pointless...

...and if that stupid little Seigaku brat didn't stop stabbing him with those wipes made of acid, he was going to break his fingers.

Kamio was still sputtering about his innocence, and really, Akaya felt a slight hint of pity for him. He knew that Kamio was telling the truth, but no one was listening to him either. How ironic that they should have that in common at this particular time?

Then Kamio swore to find the perpetrator himself, and Kirihara blinked at the raw determination in those eyes. Hard, eyes, diamond chips of blue spitting righteous fury, and Akaya had a feeling this guy wouldn't let it go, not at all. Not with his honor at stake.

Problem was, finding out the truth of what happened would hurt him even more then the accusations. Akaya scowled to himself. He didn't owe any loyalty to the Fudomine girl - who was partly responsible for what had happened, thank you very much – but the ranting idiot in front of him was close to her, and would likely feel bad if he knew she'd been involved.

Kirihara was determined to change, one way or the other. He hadn't made a very good start of it, but he could let this go and not get her into trouble. And since Kamio really was innocent, it would have to blow over, right? He wasn't about to accuse the speed demon of something he knew for a fact had nothing to do with him.

"I'm going to bed," he announced coolly, and stalked out of the room, leaving them to their gossip and speculations like a bunch of girls.

He felt like one big bruise, but he'd had worse. And besides, he couldn't deny that he felt a bit better for having played the protector instead of being the protected, for a change.

Word Count: 368 / 14650

049. Club

Kirihara sat down on his bed gingerly. Everything ached, like he'd been worked over but good by someone wielding a two-by-four. He was suddenly glad his roommate was still downstairs; he didn't want anyone to see him wincing and whimpering over his boo-boos. They'd probably use it against him in next days practice matches.

There was a knock on the door, and he bit back a curse. "Go away," he snarled instead.

"Open the door, Akaya," came the stern voice of Sanada Fukou-buchou, and Akaya grimaced.

He walked over to the door and opened it, looking at Sanada questioningly. Surely the other boy couldn't have known what had happened already? Then Sanada pushed by him, and Kirihara couldn't help the hiss of pain that escaped him as his Fuko-buchou's arm hit a large bruise on his side.

"What was that?" Sanada was suddenly gripping his arm, and it freaky how quick he did it.

"Nothing. I'm fine, leggo!" Kirihara pulled his arm free and walked stiffly towards his bed, plopping down on it. "What are you doing here, Fukou-buchou? You'll get in trouble."

"There are still twenty minutes until lights out, and I have already obtained permission to check on you, provided I return before then." His eyes narrowed. "Yanagi calculated a seventy-three percent chance of you getting into some kind of trouble by this point." He looked at where he had brushed against the younger player pointedly. "I see he was right."

"It's nothing."

"Akaya!" There was no mistaking that tone.

Kirihara jumped, and immediately launched into his story about how he tripped and fell down the stairs, how no one believed him when he said Fudomine's Kamio had nothing to do with it, and how Kamio was vowing some stupid revenge when there was nothing to get revenge for. Somehow, despite Sanada's laser eyes, he managed to keep from mentioning An's involvement.

Sanada listened to him, watching him steadily. As Akaya wound down to a close, Sanada tilted his head very slightly to the side. "Are you sure that's all you have to say about it?"

Akaya nodded.

"...Fine."

He made Kirihara stand up and take off his shirt so he could check the bruises himself. He sat through a lecture about how he was being irresponsible by not going to the nurse, and nodded dutifully when he was told to go there if he felt any sharp increases in pain.

"I will send Yanagi to check on you tomorrow," Sanada finished with. "And you will continue to behave yourself. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Fukou-buchou."

Sanada nodded and walked to the door. He paused though, and looked back. "There is something you are not telling me. That is your prerogative. However, if it affects your tennis, it will become my prerogative. Do you understand?"

" ...Yes, Fukou-buchou."

Sanada bid him a curt goodnight and left. Sengoku came in not long after.

"How you feeling, roomie?"

Akaya groaned. "Shut up and go to sleep, Yamabuki."

"I'm hurt, you've forgotten my name already." Sengoku winked at him. Then he looked serious. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I said I was."

The older boy was still frowning. "Kirihara-kun, no matter what you've done in the past, no one has the right to hurt you now. You know that, right?"

Oh, that was rich. Kirihara glanced over a mental summary of his life story and barely kept from bursting into sardonic snorts and giggles. "Sure, Sengoku-san. Whatever you say."

Word Count: 581 / 15231

050. Spade

He didn't know what he was expecting when he saw her the next day. Remorse, maybe? Guilt for being part of the reason why he felt like a herd of elephants had trampled over him?

What he saw from her sure didn't look like guilt to him. She stared flatly at him, expressionless. There wasn't even the tiniest bit of relief that he was okay that he could see. He'd die before admitting it, but that hurt almost more than the bruises.

Still, he couldn't really blame her. The history between her, her brother, and himself was not a pretty one, and he hadn't really improved things much by taunting her the night before. Maybe if he'd given her a straight answer, she'd look a little happier to see him, instead of looking like she wanted to hit him over the head with a shovel and bury him six feet under.

Word Count: 151 / 15382

--------------------------------

My head is aching. I'm going to bed. Thanks for reading. The next batch will be up in a couple of days.