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imaginedyou) wrote2007-09-20 06:46 pm
imaginedyou) wrote2007-09-20 06:46 pm
Bring You to Your Knees [Prince Of Tennis: Kirihara, Yukimura, Yanagi, Sanada]
Kirihara-Yukimura-Yanagi-Sanada, possibly meant to be potentially paired up in the end? Unfinished, and likely to stay that way since I've forgotten the plot. I like the characterization though. 792 Words. (Posted 2010 backdated to date originally written). Prompt: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31_days, 18 November 2005.
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Bring you to your knees
"You'll come in tomorrow twenty minutes before everyone else and run laps until every member of the team is there," Yukimura says in his edge-of-a-blade manner. "You know why. I can't imagine you thought you'd get away with it."
He hadn't thought he'd get away with it actually, not really, but Kirihara could even admit to himself that sometimes he spoke or acted without thinking first.
"It was just stupid!"
Case in point.
"Was it?" Yukimura turns back and his stare makes Kirihara's tongue curl up in his mouth in retreat. There is so much more that could be said, but Yukimura isn't one to waste words, not when Kirihara can remember everything perfectly. The monotony, the simple repetitions he can do in his sleep, backwards, upsidedown and standing on one leg, the repetitions Sanada-fukubuchou insisted he do drills for along with everyone else, even though-
"But I'm better!" Kirihara insists. He swings his racquet at his side, punctuating his words for good measure. Maybe it will hit something, except that his aim is too good for that to happen.
"But you're not the best."
Honestly, he hadn't been thinking about Yukimura-buchou when he'd said it, not to compare to. Nor Sanada-fukubuchou or Yanagi-sempai. Probably better than the rest of the Regulars, and definitely better than the rest of the tennis club, but not them. And yet, as if he could ever forget that they are above him. The knowledge punctuates his every thought.
Kirihara upturns his racquet until his fingers curl around the strings and pokes at the toe of his shoes with the handle.
"Until you're the best you can just do as you're told," Yukimura says with finality when he realises Kirihara isn't going to answer back this time. His words sound almost like a sigh of relief. "Now go, and remember what I said. Twenty minutes early."
Kirihara almost contemplates not doing it, since he has class right up until the end of the day, until he figures Yukimura-buchou probably skips his last lesson every day just to turn up for tennis practice earlier than everyone else. He and Sanada-fukubuchou probably play matches while no-one can see them. At least, he thinks smugly, Yukimura-buchou definitely always creams Sanada-fukubuchou.
True enough that there is someone to witness his early appearance, but it isn't Yukimura.
"Your behaviour was inappropriate yesterday," Yanagi says with his nose buried in the pages of his book. He makes notes even as he speaks, pencil loosely gripped between two fingers, scratching lines on the papaer beside him on the bench.
"Aren't you missing class?" Kirihara sneers as best he can. It isn't often he can get a one-up on Yanagi-sempai, in any context.
"My last period is free," Yanagi replies. "I usually choose to study during it, but Seiichi asked me to do him this favour. His last period is not as accomodating when it comes to keeping track of punishments and whether they are being fulfilled as they should be. You can listen and run you know."
"I know!" Kirihara says, and starts running. He pushes off with a force larger than necessary, and rather than stumble head-first into his pace, finds himself speeding up more and more until he is about ready to take off. Yanagi-sempai is not watching his laps, but he can surely hear the thud of Kirihara's feet on the gym floor. Kirihara is too busy cursing the names of all those he respects most to notice the wry smile, tiny but most definitely existent, gracing Yanagi's face. Nor does he notice the tiny scrawl in the centre of Yanagi's page, F = ma.
"Akaya, your form is terrible today," Yukimura says, his smile completely betraying the apparent hurt in his words. He knows full well why Kirihara is too tired to practice his swings even half as efficiently as the rest of his group, which is of course the entire point.
"I hate this," Kirihara whispers as loudly as he dares.
"If it makes you feel any better, I find babysitting the lot of you while you practice things you should have mastered a long time ago positively thrilling," Sanada-fukubuchou says, dead-pan. His arms folded across his chest act like a constant built-in shield, hiding the fact that he wants to do nothing more than flop back onto the bench, slouch down and blow the hair out of his face. His pride does not allow it.
"This is stupid!" Kirihara whines. "And boring!"
"So get it right then," Sanada narrows his eyes ever so slightly, "and then I can honestly admit to Yukimura that you're all actually ready for some match practice, and I can get back to my own training."
"But I'm tired!"
"My sympathy for you is astounding, Akaya, really."
-
31_days, 18 November 2005.-
"You'll come in tomorrow twenty minutes before everyone else and run laps until every member of the team is there," Yukimura says in his edge-of-a-blade manner. "You know why. I can't imagine you thought you'd get away with it."
He hadn't thought he'd get away with it actually, not really, but Kirihara could even admit to himself that sometimes he spoke or acted without thinking first.
"It was just stupid!"
Case in point.
"Was it?" Yukimura turns back and his stare makes Kirihara's tongue curl up in his mouth in retreat. There is so much more that could be said, but Yukimura isn't one to waste words, not when Kirihara can remember everything perfectly. The monotony, the simple repetitions he can do in his sleep, backwards, upsidedown and standing on one leg, the repetitions Sanada-fukubuchou insisted he do drills for along with everyone else, even though-
"But I'm better!" Kirihara insists. He swings his racquet at his side, punctuating his words for good measure. Maybe it will hit something, except that his aim is too good for that to happen.
"But you're not the best."
Honestly, he hadn't been thinking about Yukimura-buchou when he'd said it, not to compare to. Nor Sanada-fukubuchou or Yanagi-sempai. Probably better than the rest of the Regulars, and definitely better than the rest of the tennis club, but not them. And yet, as if he could ever forget that they are above him. The knowledge punctuates his every thought.
Kirihara upturns his racquet until his fingers curl around the strings and pokes at the toe of his shoes with the handle.
"Until you're the best you can just do as you're told," Yukimura says with finality when he realises Kirihara isn't going to answer back this time. His words sound almost like a sigh of relief. "Now go, and remember what I said. Twenty minutes early."
Kirihara almost contemplates not doing it, since he has class right up until the end of the day, until he figures Yukimura-buchou probably skips his last lesson every day just to turn up for tennis practice earlier than everyone else. He and Sanada-fukubuchou probably play matches while no-one can see them. At least, he thinks smugly, Yukimura-buchou definitely always creams Sanada-fukubuchou.
True enough that there is someone to witness his early appearance, but it isn't Yukimura.
"Your behaviour was inappropriate yesterday," Yanagi says with his nose buried in the pages of his book. He makes notes even as he speaks, pencil loosely gripped between two fingers, scratching lines on the papaer beside him on the bench.
"Aren't you missing class?" Kirihara sneers as best he can. It isn't often he can get a one-up on Yanagi-sempai, in any context.
"My last period is free," Yanagi replies. "I usually choose to study during it, but Seiichi asked me to do him this favour. His last period is not as accomodating when it comes to keeping track of punishments and whether they are being fulfilled as they should be. You can listen and run you know."
"I know!" Kirihara says, and starts running. He pushes off with a force larger than necessary, and rather than stumble head-first into his pace, finds himself speeding up more and more until he is about ready to take off. Yanagi-sempai is not watching his laps, but he can surely hear the thud of Kirihara's feet on the gym floor. Kirihara is too busy cursing the names of all those he respects most to notice the wry smile, tiny but most definitely existent, gracing Yanagi's face. Nor does he notice the tiny scrawl in the centre of Yanagi's page, F = ma.
"Akaya, your form is terrible today," Yukimura says, his smile completely betraying the apparent hurt in his words. He knows full well why Kirihara is too tired to practice his swings even half as efficiently as the rest of his group, which is of course the entire point.
"I hate this," Kirihara whispers as loudly as he dares.
"If it makes you feel any better, I find babysitting the lot of you while you practice things you should have mastered a long time ago positively thrilling," Sanada-fukubuchou says, dead-pan. His arms folded across his chest act like a constant built-in shield, hiding the fact that he wants to do nothing more than flop back onto the bench, slouch down and blow the hair out of his face. His pride does not allow it.
"This is stupid!" Kirihara whines. "And boring!"
"So get it right then," Sanada narrows his eyes ever so slightly, "and then I can honestly admit to Yukimura that you're all actually ready for some match practice, and I can get back to my own training."
"But I'm tired!"
"My sympathy for you is astounding, Akaya, really."
-
no subject
OH YUKIMURA.
OH RENJI.
AND SANADA. UNF.