Fandom: Prince of Tennis, Claim: Kirihara Akaya
Title: Kirihara Akaya
Author: Stormy1x2 ( traveling_storm )
Prompts: 11 - 20
Rating: PG-13 overall
Pairings: None really, but slight hints of Sanada/Yukimura, or Niou/Yagyuu if you really look.
Warnings: Language, hints of domestic violence
Episodic spoilers: The results of Rikkai vs Fudoumine
Notes: I really have to thank reposoir for making me rethink how I wanted to portray Kirihara. I haven't changed my stance on it - but I did go back and touch up some bits to try and better reflect my take.
That being that Akaya is not mentally stable. Anyone who deliberately sets out to injure or hurt someone else, and takes joy in their pain when they succeed, is borderline psychopathic. Kirihara, to me, also operates on complete opposite ends of the personality spectrum. We've seen him act like a little kid when he tries to spy on Seigaku, and we've seen the red-eyed demon he becomes when he plays Tachibana and Fuji. As a result, as uminohikari pointed out, it's like I'm writing two different Kirihara's. It's almost like Akaya has a mild form of MPD, though without the actual multiples. ^^;; I also have my theories as to why he is this way. Again, it's my take on it - feel free to disagree. Anyway, as we get closer to the Senbatsu arc, I will try to reflect the changes he went through, in the fics.
Also, as I mentioned, I've never read the manga. My characterizations are based on the very few appearances we've seen of him in the anime, and the fics I've read of others. If Kirihara is acting completely OOC to how he is in the manga (or any of the other Rikkaidai players), I apologize, and maybe you'll want to read someone else's take on them instead. ^^ Consider this an AU, if you will.
I don't know how well it comes across, but I'm more or less happy with it now. Still, there's always room for improvement, especially with me - C&C always appreciated. ^^
011. Red
Sanada watched with a frown as Kirihara tore through his opponent like an unleashed hurricane. His eyes had been red from the start of the match - he'd arrived at the tennis grounds in an abominable mood, and he wouldn't let anyone near him. Not even Marui, who'd tried to tempt him into a better temper by sharing - Marui, sharing - one of his deluxe chocolate cakes, had been able to coax a smile out of the irate second-year.
Sanada permitted himself a small sigh and pushed the brim of his hat down even further. If Yukimura were here, he'd know what to do. Seiichi always did.
Kirihara's opponent collapsed to the ground, moaning in agony from joints that were forming wicked bone-deep bruises, courtesy of Akaya's deadly accuracy. The second year stalked over, the red tinge in his eyes slowly fading away, but he was still tense, still scowling angrily at nothing and everything.
If Yukimura were here, he'd talk to Akaya. He'd calm him down, perhaps play a quick rally with him to get rid of that last bit of energy his opponent hadn't been strong enough to sap. But Yukimura wasn't here.
His hand struck the back of Akaya's head lightly, just strong enough to sting and get his attention.
“Ten laps around the grounds,” he barked. “Jackal, keep him out of trouble.”
Kirihara snarled soundlessly but dropped his racquet and went. Jackal followed a safe distance behind. Sanada watched them go, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Word Count: 255 / 2430
012. Orange
Yagyuu stepped outside onto the school grounds and made his way over to the tree where he usually ate his lunch. It was far enough from the school that he wasn't easily spotted by the hordes of tennis groupies, but close enough that he could see what was going on.
Normally Yagyuu ate lunch with Niou, but his doubles partner was home sick with a cold that had seemed to spring up overnight. He'd texted Yagyuu to let him know, but by the time Yagyuu had gotten the message, he'd already been on his way to school. And as he normally shared his lunch with Niou (whose parents left for work early in the morning and did not have time to prepare one for him) who would otherwise eat the abysmal offerings provided by the campus vending machines, this left him alone with an enormous bento.
Yagyuu settled down on one of the massive tree roots that served as a chair. As he pulled his bag to him, a movement caught his eye and he saw Kirihara heading for the dreaded vending machines along the school wall. He looked down at his over-sized lunch thoughtfully.
“Akaya!”
The second year turned around, squinting in the sunlight. He caught sight of Yagyuu and made his way over, glaring at him suspiciously. “What?”
Yagyuu smiled calmly and handed his teammate a pair of chopsticks, before snapping his own neatly in two. “Please, help yourself.”
Akaya looked at the chopsticks he'd been given. “...Why?” he finally asked, wrinkling his nose. “What's wrong with it?”
Yagyuu would have snorted, but the Gentleman never gave in to such crass habits. That was Niou's domain. “My lunch is far too big for one person, and Niou is not here to assist me. As you do not have a lunch of your own, I thought I would share with you. Is that all right?”
Kirihara blinked owlishly, but eventually nodded. He poked a section of omelet roll. “Is that onion?” His stomach growled.
Yagyuu hid a smile. “Of course,” he said, handing over a tin of fruit. “Mandarin?”
Word Count: 350 / 2780
013. Yellow
Kirihara is anything but a coward. On the first day of tennis practice, freshmen year, didn't he stand up and challenge the three demons? Losses notwithstanding, he has never backed down from a challenge; he's never run away from a fight. He's not as smart as Yanagi-sempai and he's not built like the Rock of Gibraltar like Sanada. He's not quite as tricky as Niou (though it's been argued that he's just as sadistic), he's not charming like Yagyuu, he's not a tensai like Marui and he's not as good as Yukimura (yet). He's not even reliable, like Jackal.
But one thing he's not, and never will be, is a coward.
Kirihara looked up at the window leading to the living room of his house and saw the tell-tale shadows of waving, yelling figures. Avoiding his parents was a matter of intelligence, he told himself over and over again as he slowly walked away.
Word Count: 156 / 2936
014. Green
“Puke,” Akaya declared staunchly.
“Puce,” Marui corrected him.
“No, I mean 'puke', Marui-sempai!” Akaya scowled at the walls of Yukimura's hospital room. “Puke, as in puke green, not purple. How's Buchou supposed to heal when the walls look like they're covered in vomit?”
“Enough, Akaya,” Sanada snapped. The vein on his forehead throbbed alarmingly.
Yukimura grinned. “It's alright,” he said soothingly. “This is only temporary. They're moving me into my own private room on the fourth floor later.”
“What color are the walls there?”
“White,” Renji said automatically. He didn't look up from his notebook.
“Great.” Kirihara looked disgusted. “Instead of 'puke', now Buchou gets 'boring'.” He brightened suddenly. “I'll draw you a picture to put on the wall so it's not so boring!”
Yukimura nodded. “Good idea, Aka-chan,” he praised. Kirihara beamed happily.
Niou rolled his eyes. “How old is he again?”
Yukimura's eyes narrowed. “Sanada.”
“Niou! Thirty laps when we get back to school!”
Kirihara giggled as Niou groaned.
Word Count: 163 / 3098
015. Blue
Is that him?
I heard he broke the arm of his last opponent.
Yeah? I heard he beat up his own first year teammates last year.
What a creep. Did you see his eyes turn red? Freaky.
He's scary. Don't get too close to him.
Kirihara squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the whispers that followed him around school. Pain registered in his mouth where he'd bitten through his bottom lip. If it didn't involve tennis, it was unimportant. Tightening his grip on his tennis bag, he resolutely made his way to the tennis courts,
Freak.
Monster.
Evil.
Unwanted.
Use it, a voice urged him. Use it and be strong. Don't let them get you down. Don't let them win.
Kirihara's eyes opened, and he licked his lips, savoring the taste of blood. A second year walked past him, and Akaya's hand snapped out, grabbing his jersey.
“K-Kirihara-kun!” The boy gasped, frozen in Akaya's grip. "What...?"
“Play me,” Kirihara purred, and turned towards the court, dragging his hapless victim behind him.
Word Count: 175 / 3273
016. Purple
Akaya was a fascinating creature, Yanagi decided. One minute, he could be a red-eyed monster, slaughtering a helpless first year in what was supposed to be a practice match. The next, he was like a young child, begging Marui for a taste of the tensai's home-made cakes, or squabbling with Niou like a bratty younger sibling. His mercurial moods were ever-changing, and it was anyone's guess as to what would cause the switch. Yanagi prided himself and his data for having a better-than-average surmisal about which way the Akaya-hurricane was blowing on any given day.
Still, sometimes he wished he didn't have the acute observational skills that let him predict Akaya's moods. Particularly when the information he collected from his youngest teammate - for example, the newest blue and purple bruise on his arm, or the faintest hint of red in the shape of a splayed hand across a sharply-defined cheekbone - was so easy to spot at times.
Word Count: 164 / 3437
017. Brown
Kirihara's eyes gleamed a dull red. He licked his lips eagerly as he waited in a crouch, like a tiger stalking its prey. His prey was already wounded. It limped along, trying in vain to match the predator move for move, dirt smears covering its body, its limbs; visual reminders of countless falls to the unyielding ground.
Coming in high - there! Kirihara launched himself into the air. Sparing a single glance downward at his target, he fired his shot with all the power he had. A direct hit. As always. As was expected.
Kirihara watched Fudomine's Tachibana Kippei crumple to the ground in agony, and smirked. As expected, he'd won. Incontrovertible proof that he was every bit as strong and worthy of the name Rikkai as anyone else. That was something he'd do anything to protect, even at the expense of another player.
It was all he had.
Word Count: 150 / 3580
018. Black
Niou watched with narrowed eyes as Kirihara stalked away from the court. The entire team was quiet, watching their youngest member as he stuffed his things inside his tennis bag and walked off.
This was common. Sometimes after disabling an opponent and securing the win, Kirihara had a habit of disappearing for a few minutes. He claimed it was to do a proper cool down like Sanada-fukoubuchou was always after him to do, but Niou knew better.
Nodding to Yagyuu, he slipped away discretely and followed Akaya. The courts were lined by a forest, and behind the tree line, he could see Kirihara pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. He tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging them hard, and then let go to resume pacing around the small clearing.
Niou knew that Kirihara liked to think he had a heart dark as night to the rest of the world, but there was more to him then that. He seemed to enjoy hurting people - almost as though something inside him was encouraging him to be as tough as he could be, and Niou knew enough about Akaya's family to have an idea where those thoughts might have come from. But sometimes, after the anger faded, after the adrenaline rush was gone, guilt, or something like it, seemed to overtake the second year.
But it couldn't be guilt, could it? Wouldn't guilt keep Kirihara from doing it again?
Niou shrugged off his thoughts. It was none of his business, and hey, he didn't care what happened to the other players - it had nothing to do with him at all. And it wasn't like he could stop Kirihara anyway - not even Yukimura-buchou had been able to do that. Not that they really tried. The kid was getting the wins, after all.
But he'd stay there and watch to make sure that the kid didn't do something rash. That, he could do.
Word Count: 320 / 3900
019. White
Yukimura hung up the room phone slowly. Another victory for Rikkai - as was to be expected. Sanada had reported, in stark detail, everything that had occurred, including Kirihara's vicious win over Tachibana Kippei.
The competitor inside Seiichi Yukimura was not overly concerned. There were always risks when one stepped onto the battle field, and Tachibana was at a level where he should have known and prepared accordingly. Perhaps the Tachibana Seiichi recalled had gone soft over at Fudomine.
But the friend inside Seiichi was a bit worried about his youngest kouhai. Kirihara's rages and attacks were growing in strength, particularly as his game improved under Sanada's watchful eye. There was just so much anger, so much hate inside Kirihara.
Yukimura's eyes softened. There was also a plea for help in Akaya's eyes, nearly invisible to everyone except the ones who had gotten to him - which was pretty much just the Regulars.
Yukimua looked up at the white walls of his room, focusing on the one splotch of color hung opposite his bed. Drawn in color pencils was a picture that featured everything Kirihara apparently liked. A plate of what Yukimura assumed was yakiniku (Kirihara's favorite), and an orange kite that looked like a bird. A yellow star shining brightly as opposed to a sun. A blue river cut through half the paper, filled with brightly colored fish. Snowflakes done in silver. A tennis racquet and a bunch of tennis balls. A yellow jersey with 'Rikkai' scrawled across it, taking up up the entire top left corner. It was the biggest item there. The picture was something that would seem completely out of character to anyone who didn't know the other side to Kirihara, the side he didn't show anyone but his teammates.
Great art, it wasn't. But it spoke volumes to Seiichi and the other members of the team, particularly Marui who had snapped his gum and asked why, if this was a picture of everything Kirihara liked, there wasn't a crushed opponent on a tennis court.
Yukimura studied the picture, thinking over Sanada's game report. He wasn't overly concerned yet, but eventually there was sure to be a formal complaint from someone. Something needed to be done before there were serious consequences. A suspension from the team would probably destroy Akaya.
He wondered what it would take to make such a change without taking away Akaya's edge. Perhaps Renji work on that...
Word Count: 398 / 4298
020. Colorless
Akaya groaned under his breath as his teacher droned on and on about stupid things like tenses, and verbs. English class was not only his hardest class, but it was also the most boring. What use was he going to have for English? He lived in Japan! And when he became the most famous tennis player in the world one day, well, that's what translators were for. Che.
Staring out the window didn't help, either. The wind outside was strong, and the sky was washed out, bleached of anything resembling color. It was as boring as the classroom. Kirihara griped silently, and vowed to do something to Niou later. Not that Niou was to blame for his boredom, but getting him with a prank would at least entertain him.
Provided, of course, that he made it behind Yukimura fast enough that the Trickster didn't catch him afterwards.
Word Count: 147 / 4445
Author: Stormy1x2 ( traveling_storm )
Prompts: 11 - 20
Rating: PG-13 overall
Pairings: None really, but slight hints of Sanada/Yukimura, or Niou/Yagyuu if you really look.
Warnings: Language, hints of domestic violence
Episodic spoilers: The results of Rikkai vs Fudoumine
Notes: I really have to thank reposoir for making me rethink how I wanted to portray Kirihara. I haven't changed my stance on it - but I did go back and touch up some bits to try and better reflect my take.
That being that Akaya is not mentally stable. Anyone who deliberately sets out to injure or hurt someone else, and takes joy in their pain when they succeed, is borderline psychopathic. Kirihara, to me, also operates on complete opposite ends of the personality spectrum. We've seen him act like a little kid when he tries to spy on Seigaku, and we've seen the red-eyed demon he becomes when he plays Tachibana and Fuji. As a result, as uminohikari pointed out, it's like I'm writing two different Kirihara's. It's almost like Akaya has a mild form of MPD, though without the actual multiples. ^^;; I also have my theories as to why he is this way. Again, it's my take on it - feel free to disagree. Anyway, as we get closer to the Senbatsu arc, I will try to reflect the changes he went through, in the fics.
Also, as I mentioned, I've never read the manga. My characterizations are based on the very few appearances we've seen of him in the anime, and the fics I've read of others. If Kirihara is acting completely OOC to how he is in the manga (or any of the other Rikkaidai players), I apologize, and maybe you'll want to read someone else's take on them instead. ^^ Consider this an AU, if you will.
I don't know how well it comes across, but I'm more or less happy with it now. Still, there's always room for improvement, especially with me - C&C always appreciated. ^^
011. Red
Sanada watched with a frown as Kirihara tore through his opponent like an unleashed hurricane. His eyes had been red from the start of the match - he'd arrived at the tennis grounds in an abominable mood, and he wouldn't let anyone near him. Not even Marui, who'd tried to tempt him into a better temper by sharing - Marui, sharing - one of his deluxe chocolate cakes, had been able to coax a smile out of the irate second-year.
Sanada permitted himself a small sigh and pushed the brim of his hat down even further. If Yukimura were here, he'd know what to do. Seiichi always did.
Kirihara's opponent collapsed to the ground, moaning in agony from joints that were forming wicked bone-deep bruises, courtesy of Akaya's deadly accuracy. The second year stalked over, the red tinge in his eyes slowly fading away, but he was still tense, still scowling angrily at nothing and everything.
If Yukimura were here, he'd talk to Akaya. He'd calm him down, perhaps play a quick rally with him to get rid of that last bit of energy his opponent hadn't been strong enough to sap. But Yukimura wasn't here.
His hand struck the back of Akaya's head lightly, just strong enough to sting and get his attention.
“Ten laps around the grounds,” he barked. “Jackal, keep him out of trouble.”
Kirihara snarled soundlessly but dropped his racquet and went. Jackal followed a safe distance behind. Sanada watched them go, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Word Count: 255 / 2430
012. Orange
Yagyuu stepped outside onto the school grounds and made his way over to the tree where he usually ate his lunch. It was far enough from the school that he wasn't easily spotted by the hordes of tennis groupies, but close enough that he could see what was going on.
Normally Yagyuu ate lunch with Niou, but his doubles partner was home sick with a cold that had seemed to spring up overnight. He'd texted Yagyuu to let him know, but by the time Yagyuu had gotten the message, he'd already been on his way to school. And as he normally shared his lunch with Niou (whose parents left for work early in the morning and did not have time to prepare one for him) who would otherwise eat the abysmal offerings provided by the campus vending machines, this left him alone with an enormous bento.
Yagyuu settled down on one of the massive tree roots that served as a chair. As he pulled his bag to him, a movement caught his eye and he saw Kirihara heading for the dreaded vending machines along the school wall. He looked down at his over-sized lunch thoughtfully.
“Akaya!”
The second year turned around, squinting in the sunlight. He caught sight of Yagyuu and made his way over, glaring at him suspiciously. “What?”
Yagyuu smiled calmly and handed his teammate a pair of chopsticks, before snapping his own neatly in two. “Please, help yourself.”
Akaya looked at the chopsticks he'd been given. “...Why?” he finally asked, wrinkling his nose. “What's wrong with it?”
Yagyuu would have snorted, but the Gentleman never gave in to such crass habits. That was Niou's domain. “My lunch is far too big for one person, and Niou is not here to assist me. As you do not have a lunch of your own, I thought I would share with you. Is that all right?”
Kirihara blinked owlishly, but eventually nodded. He poked a section of omelet roll. “Is that onion?” His stomach growled.
Yagyuu hid a smile. “Of course,” he said, handing over a tin of fruit. “Mandarin?”
Word Count: 350 / 2780
013. Yellow
Kirihara is anything but a coward. On the first day of tennis practice, freshmen year, didn't he stand up and challenge the three demons? Losses notwithstanding, he has never backed down from a challenge; he's never run away from a fight. He's not as smart as Yanagi-sempai and he's not built like the Rock of Gibraltar like Sanada. He's not quite as tricky as Niou (though it's been argued that he's just as sadistic), he's not charming like Yagyuu, he's not a tensai like Marui and he's not as good as Yukimura (yet). He's not even reliable, like Jackal.
But one thing he's not, and never will be, is a coward.
Kirihara looked up at the window leading to the living room of his house and saw the tell-tale shadows of waving, yelling figures. Avoiding his parents was a matter of intelligence, he told himself over and over again as he slowly walked away.
Word Count: 156 / 2936
014. Green
“Puke,” Akaya declared staunchly.
“Puce,” Marui corrected him.
“No, I mean 'puke', Marui-sempai!” Akaya scowled at the walls of Yukimura's hospital room. “Puke, as in puke green, not purple. How's Buchou supposed to heal when the walls look like they're covered in vomit?”
“Enough, Akaya,” Sanada snapped. The vein on his forehead throbbed alarmingly.
Yukimura grinned. “It's alright,” he said soothingly. “This is only temporary. They're moving me into my own private room on the fourth floor later.”
“What color are the walls there?”
“White,” Renji said automatically. He didn't look up from his notebook.
“Great.” Kirihara looked disgusted. “Instead of 'puke', now Buchou gets 'boring'.” He brightened suddenly. “I'll draw you a picture to put on the wall so it's not so boring!”
Yukimura nodded. “Good idea, Aka-chan,” he praised. Kirihara beamed happily.
Niou rolled his eyes. “How old is he again?”
Yukimura's eyes narrowed. “Sanada.”
“Niou! Thirty laps when we get back to school!”
Kirihara giggled as Niou groaned.
Word Count: 163 / 3098
015. Blue
Is that him?
I heard he broke the arm of his last opponent.
Yeah? I heard he beat up his own first year teammates last year.
What a creep. Did you see his eyes turn red? Freaky.
He's scary. Don't get too close to him.
Kirihara squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the whispers that followed him around school. Pain registered in his mouth where he'd bitten through his bottom lip. If it didn't involve tennis, it was unimportant. Tightening his grip on his tennis bag, he resolutely made his way to the tennis courts,
Freak.
Monster.
Evil.
Unwanted.
Use it, a voice urged him. Use it and be strong. Don't let them get you down. Don't let them win.
Kirihara's eyes opened, and he licked his lips, savoring the taste of blood. A second year walked past him, and Akaya's hand snapped out, grabbing his jersey.
“K-Kirihara-kun!” The boy gasped, frozen in Akaya's grip. "What...?"
“Play me,” Kirihara purred, and turned towards the court, dragging his hapless victim behind him.
Word Count: 175 / 3273
016. Purple
Akaya was a fascinating creature, Yanagi decided. One minute, he could be a red-eyed monster, slaughtering a helpless first year in what was supposed to be a practice match. The next, he was like a young child, begging Marui for a taste of the tensai's home-made cakes, or squabbling with Niou like a bratty younger sibling. His mercurial moods were ever-changing, and it was anyone's guess as to what would cause the switch. Yanagi prided himself and his data for having a better-than-average surmisal about which way the Akaya-hurricane was blowing on any given day.
Still, sometimes he wished he didn't have the acute observational skills that let him predict Akaya's moods. Particularly when the information he collected from his youngest teammate - for example, the newest blue and purple bruise on his arm, or the faintest hint of red in the shape of a splayed hand across a sharply-defined cheekbone - was so easy to spot at times.
Word Count: 164 / 3437
017. Brown
Kirihara's eyes gleamed a dull red. He licked his lips eagerly as he waited in a crouch, like a tiger stalking its prey. His prey was already wounded. It limped along, trying in vain to match the predator move for move, dirt smears covering its body, its limbs; visual reminders of countless falls to the unyielding ground.
Coming in high - there! Kirihara launched himself into the air. Sparing a single glance downward at his target, he fired his shot with all the power he had. A direct hit. As always. As was expected.
Kirihara watched Fudomine's Tachibana Kippei crumple to the ground in agony, and smirked. As expected, he'd won. Incontrovertible proof that he was every bit as strong and worthy of the name Rikkai as anyone else. That was something he'd do anything to protect, even at the expense of another player.
It was all he had.
Word Count: 150 / 3580
018. Black
Niou watched with narrowed eyes as Kirihara stalked away from the court. The entire team was quiet, watching their youngest member as he stuffed his things inside his tennis bag and walked off.
This was common. Sometimes after disabling an opponent and securing the win, Kirihara had a habit of disappearing for a few minutes. He claimed it was to do a proper cool down like Sanada-fukoubuchou was always after him to do, but Niou knew better.
Nodding to Yagyuu, he slipped away discretely and followed Akaya. The courts were lined by a forest, and behind the tree line, he could see Kirihara pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. He tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging them hard, and then let go to resume pacing around the small clearing.
Niou knew that Kirihara liked to think he had a heart dark as night to the rest of the world, but there was more to him then that. He seemed to enjoy hurting people - almost as though something inside him was encouraging him to be as tough as he could be, and Niou knew enough about Akaya's family to have an idea where those thoughts might have come from. But sometimes, after the anger faded, after the adrenaline rush was gone, guilt, or something like it, seemed to overtake the second year.
But it couldn't be guilt, could it? Wouldn't guilt keep Kirihara from doing it again?
Niou shrugged off his thoughts. It was none of his business, and hey, he didn't care what happened to the other players - it had nothing to do with him at all. And it wasn't like he could stop Kirihara anyway - not even Yukimura-buchou had been able to do that. Not that they really tried. The kid was getting the wins, after all.
But he'd stay there and watch to make sure that the kid didn't do something rash. That, he could do.
Word Count: 320 / 3900
019. White
Yukimura hung up the room phone slowly. Another victory for Rikkai - as was to be expected. Sanada had reported, in stark detail, everything that had occurred, including Kirihara's vicious win over Tachibana Kippei.
The competitor inside Seiichi Yukimura was not overly concerned. There were always risks when one stepped onto the battle field, and Tachibana was at a level where he should have known and prepared accordingly. Perhaps the Tachibana Seiichi recalled had gone soft over at Fudomine.
But the friend inside Seiichi was a bit worried about his youngest kouhai. Kirihara's rages and attacks were growing in strength, particularly as his game improved under Sanada's watchful eye. There was just so much anger, so much hate inside Kirihara.
Yukimura's eyes softened. There was also a plea for help in Akaya's eyes, nearly invisible to everyone except the ones who had gotten to him - which was pretty much just the Regulars.
Yukimua looked up at the white walls of his room, focusing on the one splotch of color hung opposite his bed. Drawn in color pencils was a picture that featured everything Kirihara apparently liked. A plate of what Yukimura assumed was yakiniku (Kirihara's favorite), and an orange kite that looked like a bird. A yellow star shining brightly as opposed to a sun. A blue river cut through half the paper, filled with brightly colored fish. Snowflakes done in silver. A tennis racquet and a bunch of tennis balls. A yellow jersey with 'Rikkai' scrawled across it, taking up up the entire top left corner. It was the biggest item there. The picture was something that would seem completely out of character to anyone who didn't know the other side to Kirihara, the side he didn't show anyone but his teammates.
Great art, it wasn't. But it spoke volumes to Seiichi and the other members of the team, particularly Marui who had snapped his gum and asked why, if this was a picture of everything Kirihara liked, there wasn't a crushed opponent on a tennis court.
Yukimura studied the picture, thinking over Sanada's game report. He wasn't overly concerned yet, but eventually there was sure to be a formal complaint from someone. Something needed to be done before there were serious consequences. A suspension from the team would probably destroy Akaya.
He wondered what it would take to make such a change without taking away Akaya's edge. Perhaps Renji work on that...
Word Count: 398 / 4298
020. Colorless
Akaya groaned under his breath as his teacher droned on and on about stupid things like tenses, and verbs. English class was not only his hardest class, but it was also the most boring. What use was he going to have for English? He lived in Japan! And when he became the most famous tennis player in the world one day, well, that's what translators were for. Che.
Staring out the window didn't help, either. The wind outside was strong, and the sky was washed out, bleached of anything resembling color. It was as boring as the classroom. Kirihara griped silently, and vowed to do something to Niou later. Not that Niou was to blame for his boredom, but getting him with a prank would at least entertain him.
Provided, of course, that he made it behind Yukimura fast enough that the Trickster didn't catch him afterwards.
Word Count: 147 / 4445