rp log: sanada & kirihara
Rating: PG
When: over the weekend
Where: on the island
Summary: Kirihara needs to send a letter.
’Dear Santa,
This is Kirihara Akaya, I just wanted to let you know that I know you’re real even if the rest of these idiots guys say you aren’t. They are just mad that you don’t bring them presents anymore. I just don’t want you to think that I’m like them.
Looking forward to seeing you this Christmas,
Akaya
Kirihara looked the letter over before giving it an approving nod; that should do just find. He carefully rolled the letter up and shoved it messily into an empty champagne bottle, hoping Santa wouldn’t hold it against him and know that he’d done any underage drinking. He was probably already on the naughty list this year and couldn’t afford any more strikes.
With that thought he panicked a little, pulling the cork back out along with the paper...the edges tearing as he did.
P.S. I just want you to know I didn’t drink this bottle. He scrawled in messy handwriting.
There. That should do. He hoped Santa wouldn’t hold it against him that he had to use that annoying stationary with Atobe’s face on it.
Cradling the bottle he made his way to his meditation spot. Sanada had said he’d met him there and he had a feeling if he was late he’d get laps. The thought made him hustle the short way down the beach and up the small mound of dirt only to spy a familiar cap.
“‘Morning, Fukubuchou.”
Sanada stretched out, then got into his zazen position. He could have a few minutes of quiet before Kirihara showed up. Perhaps today he would be nice and not order laps if he was late. Snorting, he shook his head. Not in a million years.
Hearing a rustle nearby, he opened up an eye just long enough to see a familiar mop of black hair darting his way. As the younger teen arrived at the top and greeted him, Sanada nodded.
“Good morning,” he said, looking at the bottle in Kirihara’s hands. “What is that?”
Kirihara looked down at the bottle, then up to Sanada, sitting down in front of him trying to see at his eye level. Sanada being taller than him cause him to stretch upward a little. “A letter to Santa.” He said, all seriousness in his tone. “Just so he knows where I am...” The younger man look determined. It wasn’t like he planned to be on this island until Christmas time, but you never knew and when presents and candy were involved, he was not taking any chances.
A letter to Santa... Sanada fought back a laugh and tried to keep his face as impassive as possible. It was well known among those in Rikkai that Kirihara still believed in the man in red. They had not helped in quelling it. In fact, they probably fostered it more. Giving him tennis equipment or video games signed “from Santa”.
“Santa also takes emails now,” he pointed out. “Besides, Santa always knows where you are. Remember the poem... He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake.”
“I know, I know...Knows when you’ve been bad and good and all that shi-stuff.” Without realizing it, Kirihara’s lower lip protruded ever so slightly more then his upper in a small pout. “I wrote other stuff too...I wanted it to be more personal, Santa doesn’t like all that interweb crap.” Fingers reached up to push messy curls out of his eyes only for them to fall back into them a moment later. Really Kirihara wasn’t sure if the fat man had any preference but to him, Santa seemed like an old fashioned sort of guy.
“Are you going with me or what?” He fiddled with the cork on the bottle waiting for Sanada to make a move.
Sanada let a short laugh escape his lips at Kirihara’s almost cursing. He wasn’t Yukimura by any means and honestly didn’t care about it one way or another. “You don’t have to keep your words in check around me,” he said. “Santa cares more about actions than what words you use.”
Nodding, he stood and brushed himself off. “Come on then,” he said with a ruffling of Kirihara’s hair. “That bottle has to reach the North Pole before December twenty-third.”
Kirihara’s eyes narrowed when Sanada ruffled his hair. Even if he had come to secretly enjoy the soft noogies his senpai gave him, he still had to save face. It was easy enough to fall into step with Sanada nowadays; while he may have lacked the girth, he had the length in legs to match proud strides as they crossed the forest to the beach. Only Sanada could make a simple walk look so...proud.
“Even if it doesn’t, Santa will know. This is just precaution.” He patted the bottle, trying to straighten his back as he walked a little less gracefully in the uneven sand trying to match Sanada’s stride and posture with little success.
Sanada arrived at the beach, the tide slowly going out. Just how many methods did Kirihara plan on using? Shaking that particular thought from his head, he crossed his arms and stood, waiting for his kouhai to get on with it. He was still unsure why he needed to see the letter get sent out and there was a good possibility that it would get washed back on the shore. Although, if that were the case and Kirihara had included a list of things he wanted, perhaps Yukimura, Yanagi, and him could do something.
“Well,” he said, nodding his head toward the water, “go on and toss it out there.”
Kirihara nodded, a determined look settling over his features as he slipped out of shoes and wadded a short distance into the water before winding up and throwing it as far out into the ocean as he could.
“There.” He rubbed his hands over the thighs of his jeans as he walked his way back to towards Sanada. He’d asked his fukubuchou to come with him simply for the company. Like it or not he sort of enjoyed spending time with him even if it wasn’t really returned. Kirihara didn’t really care either way.
Sanada offered Kirihara a small smile upon his return. It was nostalgic, writing letters to Santa, and he could understand what it meant to the younger man. “Did you ask for anything in particular?” he queried as Kirihara came within non-yelling distance.
Kirihara returned the small smile with a lift of the corners of his own mouth. “This letter I didn’t ask for anything.” He explained, “It was more of a preventative letter. But if I did I do need a new DSi...the red one.” The young players hand held game counsel had finally taken enough abuse and quit on him a few days before the crash. Tennis and exploring were about the only things that were keeping him from going stir crazy (not to mention Yukimura would occasionally let him borrow his).
“What do you want? I can put in a good word for you next letter.” He looked up to meet eyes shadowed by the wide brim of a hat.
A red DSi... Sanada thought about this for a moment. He would tell Yukimura and Yanagi the next time the three of them got together. Which, now that he had thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time they had done so. And wait, did he say ‘preventative’? “I think you meant preemptive,” Sanada said.
He pondered Kirihara’s question. “The usual, I suppose,” he said. “Sword cleaning accessories, tennis and kendo equipment. Maybe a new set of calligraphy brushes.” He truly wouldn’t mind another katana, to practice dual-wielding with, but he didn’t want to scare his kouhai with that bit of information.
“Preemptive?” Kirihara reached up to scratch at the back of his head; he’d never been the best when it came to words, his language grades were a testament to that. “Know what I want right now?” That mischievous look fell over his features again as he sped up to get in front of Sanada as he walked backwards.
“An anticipated maneuver,” Sanada said. He probably should have said that to begin with. Kirihara had never been the best with English or Japanese language. Watching the curly-headed teen get in front of him, he looked a bit skeptical for a moment before nodding. “I do, but we aren’t playing right now. I have do work on the things you assigned me.”
“Aw! C’mon, fukubuchou!” He stumbled in the sand with that outburst. Sanada did have a point though, shit had to be taken care of and tennis -- as painful as it was to say -- had to wait.
“We’ll fine. I’ll help you and then as soon as we’re done!” Another stumble caused the teen to spin around again, walking properly next to his senior. “I have a good feeling I can beat you today.” Kirihara mouthed off. One thing Kirihara never lacked was confidence, warranted or not.
“I shouldn’t be surprised you want me to skirt my duties for tennis,” Sanada said as Kirihara got in step with him once again. He reached over and ruffled the curly mop again. “After work, we’ll see.” Maybe he would toy a little with his kouhai during the match, then destroy him, if only to fan the flames of wanting to overtake them.
“Not we’ll see.” Kirihara’s brows met in a pinch and his mouth feel in an awkward hybrid of a pout and a deep frown when strong fingers pulled at his messy hair. “We will!” He said as forcefully as possible. He promised himself he wouldn’t hold back today (not that he ever really did anyway). He was tired of losing to Sanada, tired of coming so close only to fall short and tired of having to look up to his fukubuchou each time he succumbed to his tennis. On his knees, defeated, did not suit Kirihara.
“Today is the day I defeat you.” Something welled up in Kirihara, his competitive spirit burning brightly as he quickened his pace without even realizing.
How long had Kirihara been saying that? Sanada would have to knock him down a notch or two during their match. He nodded at what Kirihara was saying, even though it wasn’t going to happen. As they arrived at the campsite, he turned to his kouhai. “Let’s get started. The sooner we get finished, the quicker you can try to defeat me.” He grabbed his tools and set off toward the closest shelter.
When: over the weekend
Where: on the island
Summary: Kirihara needs to send a letter.
’Dear Santa,
This is Kirihara Akaya, I just wanted to let you know that I know you’re real even if the rest of these idiots guys say you aren’t. They are just mad that you don’t bring them presents anymore. I just don’t want you to think that I’m like them.
Looking forward to seeing you this Christmas,
Akaya
Kirihara looked the letter over before giving it an approving nod; that should do just find. He carefully rolled the letter up and shoved it messily into an empty champagne bottle, hoping Santa wouldn’t hold it against him and know that he’d done any underage drinking. He was probably already on the naughty list this year and couldn’t afford any more strikes.
With that thought he panicked a little, pulling the cork back out along with the paper...the edges tearing as he did.
P.S. I just want you to know I didn’t drink this bottle. He scrawled in messy handwriting.
There. That should do. He hoped Santa wouldn’t hold it against him that he had to use that annoying stationary with Atobe’s face on it.
Cradling the bottle he made his way to his meditation spot. Sanada had said he’d met him there and he had a feeling if he was late he’d get laps. The thought made him hustle the short way down the beach and up the small mound of dirt only to spy a familiar cap.
“‘Morning, Fukubuchou.”
Sanada stretched out, then got into his zazen position. He could have a few minutes of quiet before Kirihara showed up. Perhaps today he would be nice and not order laps if he was late. Snorting, he shook his head. Not in a million years.
Hearing a rustle nearby, he opened up an eye just long enough to see a familiar mop of black hair darting his way. As the younger teen arrived at the top and greeted him, Sanada nodded.
“Good morning,” he said, looking at the bottle in Kirihara’s hands. “What is that?”
Kirihara looked down at the bottle, then up to Sanada, sitting down in front of him trying to see at his eye level. Sanada being taller than him cause him to stretch upward a little. “A letter to Santa.” He said, all seriousness in his tone. “Just so he knows where I am...” The younger man look determined. It wasn’t like he planned to be on this island until Christmas time, but you never knew and when presents and candy were involved, he was not taking any chances.
A letter to Santa... Sanada fought back a laugh and tried to keep his face as impassive as possible. It was well known among those in Rikkai that Kirihara still believed in the man in red. They had not helped in quelling it. In fact, they probably fostered it more. Giving him tennis equipment or video games signed “from Santa”.
“Santa also takes emails now,” he pointed out. “Besides, Santa always knows where you are. Remember the poem... He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake.”
“I know, I know...Knows when you’ve been bad and good and all that shi-stuff.” Without realizing it, Kirihara’s lower lip protruded ever so slightly more then his upper in a small pout. “I wrote other stuff too...I wanted it to be more personal, Santa doesn’t like all that interweb crap.” Fingers reached up to push messy curls out of his eyes only for them to fall back into them a moment later. Really Kirihara wasn’t sure if the fat man had any preference but to him, Santa seemed like an old fashioned sort of guy.
“Are you going with me or what?” He fiddled with the cork on the bottle waiting for Sanada to make a move.
Sanada let a short laugh escape his lips at Kirihara’s almost cursing. He wasn’t Yukimura by any means and honestly didn’t care about it one way or another. “You don’t have to keep your words in check around me,” he said. “Santa cares more about actions than what words you use.”
Nodding, he stood and brushed himself off. “Come on then,” he said with a ruffling of Kirihara’s hair. “That bottle has to reach the North Pole before December twenty-third.”
Kirihara’s eyes narrowed when Sanada ruffled his hair. Even if he had come to secretly enjoy the soft noogies his senpai gave him, he still had to save face. It was easy enough to fall into step with Sanada nowadays; while he may have lacked the girth, he had the length in legs to match proud strides as they crossed the forest to the beach. Only Sanada could make a simple walk look so...proud.
“Even if it doesn’t, Santa will know. This is just precaution.” He patted the bottle, trying to straighten his back as he walked a little less gracefully in the uneven sand trying to match Sanada’s stride and posture with little success.
Sanada arrived at the beach, the tide slowly going out. Just how many methods did Kirihara plan on using? Shaking that particular thought from his head, he crossed his arms and stood, waiting for his kouhai to get on with it. He was still unsure why he needed to see the letter get sent out and there was a good possibility that it would get washed back on the shore. Although, if that were the case and Kirihara had included a list of things he wanted, perhaps Yukimura, Yanagi, and him could do something.
“Well,” he said, nodding his head toward the water, “go on and toss it out there.”
Kirihara nodded, a determined look settling over his features as he slipped out of shoes and wadded a short distance into the water before winding up and throwing it as far out into the ocean as he could.
“There.” He rubbed his hands over the thighs of his jeans as he walked his way back to towards Sanada. He’d asked his fukubuchou to come with him simply for the company. Like it or not he sort of enjoyed spending time with him even if it wasn’t really returned. Kirihara didn’t really care either way.
Sanada offered Kirihara a small smile upon his return. It was nostalgic, writing letters to Santa, and he could understand what it meant to the younger man. “Did you ask for anything in particular?” he queried as Kirihara came within non-yelling distance.
Kirihara returned the small smile with a lift of the corners of his own mouth. “This letter I didn’t ask for anything.” He explained, “It was more of a preventative letter. But if I did I do need a new DSi...the red one.” The young players hand held game counsel had finally taken enough abuse and quit on him a few days before the crash. Tennis and exploring were about the only things that were keeping him from going stir crazy (not to mention Yukimura would occasionally let him borrow his).
“What do you want? I can put in a good word for you next letter.” He looked up to meet eyes shadowed by the wide brim of a hat.
A red DSi... Sanada thought about this for a moment. He would tell Yukimura and Yanagi the next time the three of them got together. Which, now that he had thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time they had done so. And wait, did he say ‘preventative’? “I think you meant preemptive,” Sanada said.
He pondered Kirihara’s question. “The usual, I suppose,” he said. “Sword cleaning accessories, tennis and kendo equipment. Maybe a new set of calligraphy brushes.” He truly wouldn’t mind another katana, to practice dual-wielding with, but he didn’t want to scare his kouhai with that bit of information.
“Preemptive?” Kirihara reached up to scratch at the back of his head; he’d never been the best when it came to words, his language grades were a testament to that. “Know what I want right now?” That mischievous look fell over his features again as he sped up to get in front of Sanada as he walked backwards.
“An anticipated maneuver,” Sanada said. He probably should have said that to begin with. Kirihara had never been the best with English or Japanese language. Watching the curly-headed teen get in front of him, he looked a bit skeptical for a moment before nodding. “I do, but we aren’t playing right now. I have do work on the things you assigned me.”
“Aw! C’mon, fukubuchou!” He stumbled in the sand with that outburst. Sanada did have a point though, shit had to be taken care of and tennis -- as painful as it was to say -- had to wait.
“We’ll fine. I’ll help you and then as soon as we’re done!” Another stumble caused the teen to spin around again, walking properly next to his senior. “I have a good feeling I can beat you today.” Kirihara mouthed off. One thing Kirihara never lacked was confidence, warranted or not.
“I shouldn’t be surprised you want me to skirt my duties for tennis,” Sanada said as Kirihara got in step with him once again. He reached over and ruffled the curly mop again. “After work, we’ll see.” Maybe he would toy a little with his kouhai during the match, then destroy him, if only to fan the flames of wanting to overtake them.
“Not we’ll see.” Kirihara’s brows met in a pinch and his mouth feel in an awkward hybrid of a pout and a deep frown when strong fingers pulled at his messy hair. “We will!” He said as forcefully as possible. He promised himself he wouldn’t hold back today (not that he ever really did anyway). He was tired of losing to Sanada, tired of coming so close only to fall short and tired of having to look up to his fukubuchou each time he succumbed to his tennis. On his knees, defeated, did not suit Kirihara.
“Today is the day I defeat you.” Something welled up in Kirihara, his competitive spirit burning brightly as he quickened his pace without even realizing.
How long had Kirihara been saying that? Sanada would have to knock him down a notch or two during their match. He nodded at what Kirihara was saying, even though it wasn’t going to happen. As they arrived at the campsite, he turned to his kouhai. “Let’s get started. The sooner we get finished, the quicker you can try to defeat me.” He grabbed his tools and set off toward the closest shelter.