(no subject)
Title: Confrontations
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Yukimura, Sanada, Jiroh.
Prompt: 077 What?
Word Count: 2282
Rating: R ((Yes, the rating went up *gaspeth*))
Summary: It's Yukimura's turn to confront Sanada. ((Wow I suck at summaries, it's not as bad as the summary!! I promise!!!))
Author's Notes: Once again pre-OT7, based off the anime more than the manga as I’ve only read up to chapter 72 of it.This is set after Tezuka comes back from Germany too and is a continuation of my first three fics Monumental Ideas, Welcoming and Protests. Big thanks go out to
crimson_raining my beta ^.^
Disclaimer: Konomi is a genius, and I’m just a poor Canadian, trust me, I don’t own the boys . . . yet
Yukimura wasn’t really looking forward to talking with Sanada. It would not be an easy conversation. He had decided to talk to his fukou-buchou after practice today, his first day back in fact. He was under strict orders from the hospital to be very careful and to not do anything that may impede his recovery and so, he was not participating overly much today.
When he showed up at the court about ten minutes into practice he was promptly swamped by well meaning first years glad to have him back and inquiring into his health as well as every single regular coming up. Kirihara even going as far as to pick him up and spin him around, much to the consternation of Sanada who promptly assigned him twenty laps. Yukimura giggled behind his hand as Kirihara scowled at the brunette and grumbling, went off to run his laps.
“Everyone, get back to practice,” Sanada snapped glaring at the group until they started to slowly return to the courts.
Yukimura smiled as he watched his serve, making a mental note to remind Marui to work on his backhand, it was getting a little shaky. A hand rested on his shoulder suddenly and he jumped a little, tilting his head to see Sanada standing behind him, a blank look on his face.
“Seiichi, we need to talk.”
“I know.”
Its funny how, when you’re dreading something, time goes far faster. All too soon practice was over and everyone was gone but for Sanada and himself.
Yukimura started when a hand landed on his shoulder again, and tilted his head slightly to the side so that he could see Sanada through his bangs. “What was it you wanted to talk about Genichirou?” Yukimura was proud to note that his voice did not shake in the least. On the outside, at least, he appeared calm and collected, not torn apart by worry and doubt at what this conversation would bring about.
When Sanada didn’t answer, just stood there, staring at him with his intense eyes that had first caught Yukimura’s notice, he turned back to what he was doing, shrugging off the hand on his shoulder and grabbing the hem of his tennis shirt. In one smooth motion it was over his head, without having even ruffled one hair out of place, an unappreciated talent he often said.
He reached out to grab his regular T-shirt from his open locker but was promptly stopped by a hand on his wrist, which proceeded to spin him around, gently, and propel him forward until he landed against Sanada’s chest. Once there, Sanada promptly buried his head in Yukimura’s wavy hair and inhaled deeply. That action alone told him more than Sanada’s words could ever hope too.
Sanada was not a touchy-feely person, he showed his affection in other ways, and so something like this could take the dark-haired buchou by surprise and viscously tilt him off-balance.
“Genichirou,” Yukimura murmured, sure that that time, his voice had cracked with pent-up grief.
“I’m so sorry Seiichi.”
Yukimura froze a chill like the bitterest winter frost coming over him, consuming him. “It’s that boy Jiroh isn’t it,” the dark-haired boy stated in a voice as cold as he felt inside.
Sanada flinched, “It’s not like that Seiichi, I love you. You know I do. But you hurt me. You didn’t trust me Seiichi, all I’ve ever wanted was you, you had me wrapped around your little finger and I knew it, the whole team knew it.”
“I do trust you Genichirou,” Yukimura murmured into the other boy’s shoulder.
“Then why did you push me away?”
“I . . . I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I think that should be my own decision Seiichi. I love you, I want to be with you no matter what, but you never gave me the choice, just kept pushing me away.”
“You talk as if I’m the only one to blame Genichirou.”
“I’m not, I’m not trying to say that I just-” Sanada cut himself off and Yukimura looked up at the other boy, only to be picked apart by eyes that said plainly what their owner could never say, never express in words.
“Oh Geni-”
Sanada cut off his apology easily, claiming his lips in an intense kiss that burned through both boys, leaving them gasping for breath. As soon as their lips had parted Sanada bent slightly, sucking at the hollow of his throat and leaving his buchou weak-kneed as he worked his way in nips and licks down the protruding collarbone. Yukimura melted against the bigger boy and was pressed into the lockers, Sanada’s knee pressed against his groin moving in slow circles.
The dark-haired boy moaned, gripping the brunette’s hair before gently running fingers through it as his nipples were tongued and toyed with.
This was one of the few times Sanada would initiate contact and it was always full of fire, full of passion, never the slow gentle lovemaking other couples participated in. It was his way of communicating all that he could not say, and Yukimura understood.
Both boys were far too caught up in their current activities to register the door to the clubroom opening, the sound masked by Yukimura’s load moan as Sanada palmed his erection.
A low, throaty groan was pulled from the dark-haired buchou’s mouth as he was roughly slammed into the lockers, Sanada biting deeply into his shoulder, marking him.
Yukimura tensed suddenly, his wide-open eyes taking in that of the blonde figure standing just inside the door. The brokenly sad look on the boy’s face tore at Yukimura and the choked whimper that emitted from the boy’s throat dug into him. Although he hadn’t really seen the boy at more than a passing glance, he knew instantly that it was Akutagawa.
Sanada’s hands on his body stilled, and Yukimura could feel his eyes on his face, catching onto his line of sight and following it to the blonde boy. He felt the other boy’s sharp intake of breath against his chest and not for the first time, knew things were spinning beyond his control.
“Jiroh,” Sanada started, confused uncertain and utterly guilty.
The blonde surprisingly smiled slightly; in no way near as masterful a fake as Fuji’s own deceptive grin. “Ano, don’t worry Sanada-kun,” the slightest tensing of Sanada’s body against his own told him that before this, the two had been on first name basis. “I . . . I knew before this started that-that I was j-just a replacement.”
The blonde spun on his heel and tried to push the door outward, his movements short and desperate, as he became frustrated with the door that wouldn’t open. Yukimura made no move to tell the other boy that one had to pull to open the door as opposed to push, though a juvenile part of him wanted desperately to say just that, and maybe add a curt ‘don’t let the door hit you on the way out.’ He squashed that impulse brutally and gave Sanada a little push towards the obviously devastated boy.
Once started, Sanada strode purposefully toward the blonde, which made Akutagawa flail and bang at the door harder in a desperate urge to be away from things he didn’t think himself strong enough to face. Sanada gently grabbed both of the boy’s wrists to stop him pounding on the door, stepping between him and the exit and forcing the blonde back a step.
After that though, it was obvious to Yukimura that the brunette had no idea how to proceed, how to comfort the boy and how to confront his feelings for both boys. So, Yukimura stepped in.
“You are Akutagawa Jiroh?”
The blonde seemed to be looking desperately for an exit without looking at either of them, but his head nodded in a short jerky manner.
Yukimura raised vibrant violet eyes to his fukou-buchou and after a short, completely silent fight, the larger boy backed down, silently pleading with his buchou not to hurt Jiroh. Sanada released the blonde’s wrists but stayed firmly placed in front of the door.
Yukimura, with surprising strength spun the slightly taller Jiroh to face him, taking in the astonished surprise and pain on the pretty face. “I’m not trying to hurt you Akutagawa-kun. I just want to see your face when I’m speaking to you.”
There was no reaction, but then again, he hadn’t really been expecting one, so he continued. “We had the misfortune of both falling for the same man, I presume; however it is to our great fortune that this man is Sanada Genichirou, though you may not agree with that at the moment.”
“No . . . I still . . . Sanada-kun is a good person,” the blonde answered in a small voice.
“Oh,” Yukimura said, tilting his head just slightly, “Is it me then, you think is the bad guy?”
“No!” Akutagawa hastened to reply, distress obvious. “I mean . . . I’m the bad person . . . I-I knew it would never last between us . . . th-that I was just a repl-replacement,” the blonde stuttered helplessly. “But I still pursued Sa-Sanada-kun. It’s m-my fault that it’s like this.”
Yukimura made sure the other boy was looking at him before replying. “This is not your fault; you are not to blame, as much as some part of my subconscious wants to do so.” Jiroh flinched and Sanada inhaled sharply at that statement. “However, even if you were to blame for those things, trace things farther back it was I, not you that was ultimately responsible for this predicament. Therefore, this unfortunate situation being lain at my feet I propose a solution.”
The blonde tilted his head in question, his eyes going unbelievably wide making him the absolute epitome of adorable. Yukimura felt Sanada’s gaze heavy on his back but refused to turn to him, and explain his meaning.
“I am aware you know of Fuji Syuusuke?”
Jiroh smiled a slightly more genuine smile, though it was still tinged with sadness. “I played a match with him once,” the blonde stated proudly, “he beat me.”
Yukimura was a little surprised that the boy could talk about his loss so easily and with only happiness and no regret, but he knew it was just the other boy’s way. Yukimura had a feeling that it wasn’t easy to get this boy down and it was a very special privilege if you were allowed to see him as such. That thought made guilt curdle in his belly as he had unwittingly forced him to show that side of himself against his will.
“Well, Akutagawa-kun, Fuji has a problem similar to ours.”
The blonde nodded somewhat sadly, “Tezuka and Atobe.”
“Yes. But you have a love in common there as well, do you not?”
The blonde flinched and in his periphery Yukimura could see Sanada moving to interfere. “Hence there is only one solution to all our problems.”
The boy tilted his head curiously, “Really?”
“Yes. The only solution that will make everyone happy is to all get together.”
“Ano . . . what do you mean?”
“All seven of us need to get together under the conditions that we do not date outside the group of us, and that we date any and everyone in the group.”
“What are you talking about?” Sanada snapped suddenly from at his side, “Are you insane? This will just create more problems than it will solve!”
“Are you sure about that Genichirou? Then would you be willing to choose between the two of us? Keep Jiroh happy enough but always wondering if he should have given Atobe another chance? Keep doubt in both or either of our minds that the other is more loved? Tell me Genichirou, is that the better solution?”
Yukimura could see the slight shifting in the other boy’s jaw that he knew to be Sanada gritting his teeth.
“Ano . . . Yukimura-san, do you . . . do you really think it could work?” There was a hopeful light burning in the blonde’s eyes and Yukimura nodded and the boy burst into a hopeful grin. “Is there any way I could . . . you know . . . help?”
“If you would possibly come with me when I talk to Atobe-kun. I have met him in passing but it would be better if there was someone he knew and trusted there.”
“Wait! I haven’t agreed to anything,” Sanada interjected angrily, “I refuse to participate in this . . . this . . . torrid love affair!”
Yukimura giggled and fluttered his eyelashes alluringly, “Are you sure Genichirou?”
Jiroh easily caught onto his plot, and put on his most adorable puppy dog expression-which was admittedly, very adorable-“Pleeeeeease Genichirou~”
No man could take a full on assault by the two of them and he folded fairly quickly. “It will end in disaster.” Yukimura grinned triumphantly and Jiroh threw his arms around the other boy in a happy hug.
It was amazing how quickly the boy could go from utterly devastated to happy and hyper but though he could find no holes in the others appearance to suggest otherwise, Yukimura felt that the boy was still severely affected by what he had walked in on. The dark-haired buchou made a mental note to pay close attention to that boy, to make him feel welcome even if he hadn’t quite yet accepted the fact that Sanada would not be completely his anymore.
Comments? *begs* *ish comment whore*
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Yukimura, Sanada, Jiroh.
Prompt: 077 What?
Word Count: 2282
Rating: R ((Yes, the rating went up *gaspeth*))
Summary: It's Yukimura's turn to confront Sanada. ((Wow I suck at summaries, it's not as bad as the summary!! I promise!!!))
Author's Notes: Once again pre-OT7, based off the anime more than the manga as I’ve only read up to chapter 72 of it.This is set after Tezuka comes back from Germany too and is a continuation of my first three fics Monumental Ideas, Welcoming and Protests. Big thanks go out to
crimson_raining my beta ^.^
Disclaimer: Konomi is a genius, and I’m just a poor Canadian, trust me, I don’t own the boys . . . yet
Yukimura wasn’t really looking forward to talking with Sanada. It would not be an easy conversation. He had decided to talk to his fukou-buchou after practice today, his first day back in fact. He was under strict orders from the hospital to be very careful and to not do anything that may impede his recovery and so, he was not participating overly much today.
When he showed up at the court about ten minutes into practice he was promptly swamped by well meaning first years glad to have him back and inquiring into his health as well as every single regular coming up. Kirihara even going as far as to pick him up and spin him around, much to the consternation of Sanada who promptly assigned him twenty laps. Yukimura giggled behind his hand as Kirihara scowled at the brunette and grumbling, went off to run his laps.
“Everyone, get back to practice,” Sanada snapped glaring at the group until they started to slowly return to the courts.
Yukimura smiled as he watched his serve, making a mental note to remind Marui to work on his backhand, it was getting a little shaky. A hand rested on his shoulder suddenly and he jumped a little, tilting his head to see Sanada standing behind him, a blank look on his face.
“Seiichi, we need to talk.”
“I know.”
Its funny how, when you’re dreading something, time goes far faster. All too soon practice was over and everyone was gone but for Sanada and himself.
Yukimura started when a hand landed on his shoulder again, and tilted his head slightly to the side so that he could see Sanada through his bangs. “What was it you wanted to talk about Genichirou?” Yukimura was proud to note that his voice did not shake in the least. On the outside, at least, he appeared calm and collected, not torn apart by worry and doubt at what this conversation would bring about.
When Sanada didn’t answer, just stood there, staring at him with his intense eyes that had first caught Yukimura’s notice, he turned back to what he was doing, shrugging off the hand on his shoulder and grabbing the hem of his tennis shirt. In one smooth motion it was over his head, without having even ruffled one hair out of place, an unappreciated talent he often said.
He reached out to grab his regular T-shirt from his open locker but was promptly stopped by a hand on his wrist, which proceeded to spin him around, gently, and propel him forward until he landed against Sanada’s chest. Once there, Sanada promptly buried his head in Yukimura’s wavy hair and inhaled deeply. That action alone told him more than Sanada’s words could ever hope too.
Sanada was not a touchy-feely person, he showed his affection in other ways, and so something like this could take the dark-haired buchou by surprise and viscously tilt him off-balance.
“Genichirou,” Yukimura murmured, sure that that time, his voice had cracked with pent-up grief.
“I’m so sorry Seiichi.”
Yukimura froze a chill like the bitterest winter frost coming over him, consuming him. “It’s that boy Jiroh isn’t it,” the dark-haired boy stated in a voice as cold as he felt inside.
Sanada flinched, “It’s not like that Seiichi, I love you. You know I do. But you hurt me. You didn’t trust me Seiichi, all I’ve ever wanted was you, you had me wrapped around your little finger and I knew it, the whole team knew it.”
“I do trust you Genichirou,” Yukimura murmured into the other boy’s shoulder.
“Then why did you push me away?”
“I . . . I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I think that should be my own decision Seiichi. I love you, I want to be with you no matter what, but you never gave me the choice, just kept pushing me away.”
“You talk as if I’m the only one to blame Genichirou.”
“I’m not, I’m not trying to say that I just-” Sanada cut himself off and Yukimura looked up at the other boy, only to be picked apart by eyes that said plainly what their owner could never say, never express in words.
“Oh Geni-”
Sanada cut off his apology easily, claiming his lips in an intense kiss that burned through both boys, leaving them gasping for breath. As soon as their lips had parted Sanada bent slightly, sucking at the hollow of his throat and leaving his buchou weak-kneed as he worked his way in nips and licks down the protruding collarbone. Yukimura melted against the bigger boy and was pressed into the lockers, Sanada’s knee pressed against his groin moving in slow circles.
The dark-haired boy moaned, gripping the brunette’s hair before gently running fingers through it as his nipples were tongued and toyed with.
This was one of the few times Sanada would initiate contact and it was always full of fire, full of passion, never the slow gentle lovemaking other couples participated in. It was his way of communicating all that he could not say, and Yukimura understood.
Both boys were far too caught up in their current activities to register the door to the clubroom opening, the sound masked by Yukimura’s load moan as Sanada palmed his erection.
A low, throaty groan was pulled from the dark-haired buchou’s mouth as he was roughly slammed into the lockers, Sanada biting deeply into his shoulder, marking him.
Yukimura tensed suddenly, his wide-open eyes taking in that of the blonde figure standing just inside the door. The brokenly sad look on the boy’s face tore at Yukimura and the choked whimper that emitted from the boy’s throat dug into him. Although he hadn’t really seen the boy at more than a passing glance, he knew instantly that it was Akutagawa.
Sanada’s hands on his body stilled, and Yukimura could feel his eyes on his face, catching onto his line of sight and following it to the blonde boy. He felt the other boy’s sharp intake of breath against his chest and not for the first time, knew things were spinning beyond his control.
“Jiroh,” Sanada started, confused uncertain and utterly guilty.
The blonde surprisingly smiled slightly; in no way near as masterful a fake as Fuji’s own deceptive grin. “Ano, don’t worry Sanada-kun,” the slightest tensing of Sanada’s body against his own told him that before this, the two had been on first name basis. “I . . . I knew before this started that-that I was j-just a replacement.”
The blonde spun on his heel and tried to push the door outward, his movements short and desperate, as he became frustrated with the door that wouldn’t open. Yukimura made no move to tell the other boy that one had to pull to open the door as opposed to push, though a juvenile part of him wanted desperately to say just that, and maybe add a curt ‘don’t let the door hit you on the way out.’ He squashed that impulse brutally and gave Sanada a little push towards the obviously devastated boy.
Once started, Sanada strode purposefully toward the blonde, which made Akutagawa flail and bang at the door harder in a desperate urge to be away from things he didn’t think himself strong enough to face. Sanada gently grabbed both of the boy’s wrists to stop him pounding on the door, stepping between him and the exit and forcing the blonde back a step.
After that though, it was obvious to Yukimura that the brunette had no idea how to proceed, how to comfort the boy and how to confront his feelings for both boys. So, Yukimura stepped in.
“You are Akutagawa Jiroh?”
The blonde seemed to be looking desperately for an exit without looking at either of them, but his head nodded in a short jerky manner.
Yukimura raised vibrant violet eyes to his fukou-buchou and after a short, completely silent fight, the larger boy backed down, silently pleading with his buchou not to hurt Jiroh. Sanada released the blonde’s wrists but stayed firmly placed in front of the door.
Yukimura, with surprising strength spun the slightly taller Jiroh to face him, taking in the astonished surprise and pain on the pretty face. “I’m not trying to hurt you Akutagawa-kun. I just want to see your face when I’m speaking to you.”
There was no reaction, but then again, he hadn’t really been expecting one, so he continued. “We had the misfortune of both falling for the same man, I presume; however it is to our great fortune that this man is Sanada Genichirou, though you may not agree with that at the moment.”
“No . . . I still . . . Sanada-kun is a good person,” the blonde answered in a small voice.
“Oh,” Yukimura said, tilting his head just slightly, “Is it me then, you think is the bad guy?”
“No!” Akutagawa hastened to reply, distress obvious. “I mean . . . I’m the bad person . . . I-I knew it would never last between us . . . th-that I was just a repl-replacement,” the blonde stuttered helplessly. “But I still pursued Sa-Sanada-kun. It’s m-my fault that it’s like this.”
Yukimura made sure the other boy was looking at him before replying. “This is not your fault; you are not to blame, as much as some part of my subconscious wants to do so.” Jiroh flinched and Sanada inhaled sharply at that statement. “However, even if you were to blame for those things, trace things farther back it was I, not you that was ultimately responsible for this predicament. Therefore, this unfortunate situation being lain at my feet I propose a solution.”
The blonde tilted his head in question, his eyes going unbelievably wide making him the absolute epitome of adorable. Yukimura felt Sanada’s gaze heavy on his back but refused to turn to him, and explain his meaning.
“I am aware you know of Fuji Syuusuke?”
Jiroh smiled a slightly more genuine smile, though it was still tinged with sadness. “I played a match with him once,” the blonde stated proudly, “he beat me.”
Yukimura was a little surprised that the boy could talk about his loss so easily and with only happiness and no regret, but he knew it was just the other boy’s way. Yukimura had a feeling that it wasn’t easy to get this boy down and it was a very special privilege if you were allowed to see him as such. That thought made guilt curdle in his belly as he had unwittingly forced him to show that side of himself against his will.
“Well, Akutagawa-kun, Fuji has a problem similar to ours.”
The blonde nodded somewhat sadly, “Tezuka and Atobe.”
“Yes. But you have a love in common there as well, do you not?”
The blonde flinched and in his periphery Yukimura could see Sanada moving to interfere. “Hence there is only one solution to all our problems.”
The boy tilted his head curiously, “Really?”
“Yes. The only solution that will make everyone happy is to all get together.”
“Ano . . . what do you mean?”
“All seven of us need to get together under the conditions that we do not date outside the group of us, and that we date any and everyone in the group.”
“What are you talking about?” Sanada snapped suddenly from at his side, “Are you insane? This will just create more problems than it will solve!”
“Are you sure about that Genichirou? Then would you be willing to choose between the two of us? Keep Jiroh happy enough but always wondering if he should have given Atobe another chance? Keep doubt in both or either of our minds that the other is more loved? Tell me Genichirou, is that the better solution?”
Yukimura could see the slight shifting in the other boy’s jaw that he knew to be Sanada gritting his teeth.
“Ano . . . Yukimura-san, do you . . . do you really think it could work?” There was a hopeful light burning in the blonde’s eyes and Yukimura nodded and the boy burst into a hopeful grin. “Is there any way I could . . . you know . . . help?”
“If you would possibly come with me when I talk to Atobe-kun. I have met him in passing but it would be better if there was someone he knew and trusted there.”
“Wait! I haven’t agreed to anything,” Sanada interjected angrily, “I refuse to participate in this . . . this . . . torrid love affair!”
Yukimura giggled and fluttered his eyelashes alluringly, “Are you sure Genichirou?”
Jiroh easily caught onto his plot, and put on his most adorable puppy dog expression-which was admittedly, very adorable-“Pleeeeeease Genichirou~”
No man could take a full on assault by the two of them and he folded fairly quickly. “It will end in disaster.” Yukimura grinned triumphantly and Jiroh threw his arms around the other boy in a happy hug.
It was amazing how quickly the boy could go from utterly devastated to happy and hyper but though he could find no holes in the others appearance to suggest otherwise, Yukimura felt that the boy was still severely affected by what he had walked in on. The dark-haired buchou made a mental note to pay close attention to that boy, to make him feel welcome even if he hadn’t quite yet accepted the fact that Sanada would not be completely his anymore.
Comments? *begs* *ish comment whore*