(no subject)
heh heh heh....quiterightwo this is my attempt at your prompt...*facepalm* doesn't follow the word theme or the pairing...whoops xD;;
so uh, Ryoma goes to Rikkai? I had a Kirihara equivalent too, but my computer crashed and I lost it. Poke me on AIM so I'll re-write it?
and yes, I know you aren't going to see this for aaaaages, if at all, because you suck at checking your flist. Which is kinda the idea because it allows me to procrastinate...
“Mada mada dane” he spits out, rubbing small pieces of gravel off the palm of his hand before grabbing his tennis racket. He looks up, Sanada looks down. Most of his face is obscured by his black hat, but Ryoma sees his opponent’s eyes glittering at him, in them an odd mix of approval and contempt. Ryoma meets his gaze, then moves it to the two people behind the opponent: the deceptively delicate captain is sitting on the bench, arms folded but with a look of amusement. Behind him stands the third demon. His face is as closed as his eyes are, but Ryoma distinctly has the sense that his every movement is being carefully observed, and some small part of his mind knows he should feel honoured. The rest of his mind shoves the thought away because, goddammit, he’s losing. He puts everything he has into the next serve, sending it flying across the net. Sanada returns it easily, despite the odd bounce, so Ryoma runs to return the ball, sweaty and tired, but determined to begin his counter-attack.
Adrenaline is still rushing through his veins when he returns home and he can’t sit still during dinner. After clearing the dishes, he plays against his dad, plays until the sun goes down and his mother reminds him of unfinished homework. Nanjirou grins at Ryoma's resolve and, for the first time, doesn’t regret his decision to sent him to Rikkaidai.
so uh, Ryoma goes to Rikkai? I had a Kirihara equivalent too, but my computer crashed and I lost it. Poke me on AIM so I'll re-write it?
and yes, I know you aren't going to see this for aaaaages, if at all, because you suck at checking your flist. Which is kinda the idea because it allows me to procrastinate...
“Mada mada dane” he spits out, rubbing small pieces of gravel off the palm of his hand before grabbing his tennis racket. He looks up, Sanada looks down. Most of his face is obscured by his black hat, but Ryoma sees his opponent’s eyes glittering at him, in them an odd mix of approval and contempt. Ryoma meets his gaze, then moves it to the two people behind the opponent: the deceptively delicate captain is sitting on the bench, arms folded but with a look of amusement. Behind him stands the third demon. His face is as closed as his eyes are, but Ryoma distinctly has the sense that his every movement is being carefully observed, and some small part of his mind knows he should feel honoured. The rest of his mind shoves the thought away because, goddammit, he’s losing. He puts everything he has into the next serve, sending it flying across the net. Sanada returns it easily, despite the odd bounce, so Ryoma runs to return the ball, sweaty and tired, but determined to begin his counter-attack.
Adrenaline is still rushing through his veins when he returns home and he can’t sit still during dinner. After clearing the dishes, he plays against his dad, plays until the sun goes down and his mother reminds him of unfinished homework. Nanjirou grins at Ryoma's resolve and, for the first time, doesn’t regret his decision to sent him to Rikkaidai.