Drabble-age (Competition, Shitenhoji Genish, PGish)
Title: Competition
Author: Ociwen
Wordcount: 1595
Rating: PGish
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Kenya hates doubles and proposes a competition.
Author's Notes: Idea I had on the tube this morning that I felt like writing. As usual, I fail at drabble length "drabbles" ;P
Kenya was sick and tired of always being dumped in doubles. “Doubles is for losers,” he told Yuushi on the phone.
“I like doubles!” Yuushi snapped.
Kenya clicked his tongue. “Yeah, well, you like retarded movies, too.” He hung up before Yuushi could respond and win the argument, like he usually did.
“This year is gonna be different,” Kenya vowed.
“What’s gonna be different, senpai?”
Kenya rolled his eyes. Zaizen. Following him again, like a lost puppy dog, complete with the ever-pervasive smell of hair gel that hung off that kid. “Nothing, idiot,” Kenya muttered.
***
At practice, Kenya sidled up to Shiraishi, who was conspiring with Osamu about something on the bench, like usual. Captain stuff, Kenya thought. His eye twitched. It wasn’t fair that Shiraishi was picked again to be captain. He didn’t even do anything special. Practice games were decided by drawing names out of a hat and that was Gin’s job.
Kenya nodded to Shiraishi. Shiraishi didn’t look up. Kenya cleared his throat, but still Shiraishi ignored him.
“YO!” Kenya shouted, flapping his arms in front of Osamu’s face.
Osamu poked Shiraishi in the side.
Shiraishi gave him a long look before he stood up and stretched his legs out in a couple slow lunges. “What’s up?”
“I have a proposition,” Kenya said.
“Okay,” Shiraishi said. He circled his arms once, then twice.
Kenya stuck his lip out. “We should have a competition and the winner gets to play singles one in the district prefecturals.”
“You don’t want to play singles ever?”
Kenya could hear himself start to grind his teeth. Shiraishi just smirked at him. His hand was all bandaged up from his bike accident almost two months ago, but he was holding a racket with it like his ligaments and muscles were perfectly fine.
Show off, Kenya thought. “Fine, singles three then.”
“Senpai, you lost to Shiraishi last time you guys played a game…” Zaizen said, somewhere behind Kenya.
Kenya looked over his shoulder and scowled. Go away! he tried to glare. Then, he walked up nice and cozy and close to Shiraishi and whispered, “A different sort of competition. Like, a dare. And whoever loses gets dumped in doubles.”
“All right,” Shiraishi said.
Kenya couldn’t believe his luck. He bit back a grin- Shiraishi had agreed and he hadn’t even said what it was! He was too brilliant for words. I amaze myself! Your Bible shit won’t work on this, Shiraishi!
“Let’s see who can go the longest without wearing anything- anything,” Kenya hissed, “under their uniform shorts.”
Shiraishi blinked. Confused, obviously, at Kenya’s brilliance. Then, a beat later, he said, “Okay, you’re on.” They shook on it, and Shiraishi’s bandages left Kenya’s palm with a funny antiseptic smell. “We start tomorrow, say.”
“Count me in.”
Kenya whipped his head around. Then up. Chitose was lurking behind himself, hands in his pockets and smirking. “Fine,” Kenya said. Chitose would give up first, no problems. He’d probably miss his organic hemp underwear, or whatever the hell it was he wore all the time. Unlike Koharu, Kenya didn’t check it out.
“Senpai!” Zaizen called out when Kenya walked back to practice, swinging his tennis racket and whistling the tune of some corny anime that was on tv that morning. “Senpai, can I join too?”
“Yeah right,” Kenya said, forcing a laugh. “It’s senior stuff. You’re still a junior.”
Zaizen narrowed his eyes. “I hope you lose,” he grumbled.
***
Day one. Kenya changed after school and it felt weird to wander out onto the tennis courts with his bits flapping in the breeze under his shorts. Koharu kept staring at him, creeping Kenya out more than usual every time the glimmer of a megane would catch his eye.
Shiraishi stayed on the bench with Osamu, hands folded over his chest and occasionally opening his mouth to say something. He wiggled a bit more than usual, but that was it.
Chitose volleyed back and forth with Gin on the far courts. He was wearing his awful yellow pants, the only one on the team who ordered them. When Kenya looked over at him, Chitose waved.
So far so good, Kenya thought. He ran a lap around the courts, shifting his eyes around. No one noticed anything different. Perfect. The winner is gonna win.
Just for kicks, he challenged Zaizen to a game for once.
***
Day two. Shiraishi ran a lap with everyone and spotted Kenya on stretches. Kenya tucked the edges of his shorts around his thighs, just in case someone happened to look up and see…
“How’s it hanging?” Shiraishi asked. The grin on his face couldn’t be bigger.
Kenya felt his mouth hang open. A fly buzzed around him before Koharu slung an arm over Kenya’s shoulders and closed Kenya’s mouth for him. “To the left today, ne Kenya-kun?”
Yuuji smacked Koharu on the head and along with it, managed to box Kenya in the ear. Kenya cringed. Koharu pouted.
“If you’re gonna cheat on me, find someone better than Kenya to check out!” Yuuji snapped.
Kenya’s face was on fire the entire practice. He slunk into the showers last, trying to avoid the knowing smirks and snickering of the entire team.
***
Day three. Kenya kept his underpants on. He walked up to Shiraishi and said, “Fine, I’m out.”
Someone snickered behind his back, muttering something about hanging out. Kenya turned around to glare, but no one was there except a freshman picking up balls. Kenya tossed the two in his hands onto the ground.
“Pick those up, too,” he said. He didn’t feel any better about losing to Shiraishi and Chitose, but at least the freshman had more work to do thanks to him. Hah!
Middle of practice- which Kenya spent bouncing balls off the cement wall of the clubhouse because he had nothing better to do- and his cellphone buzzed in his pocket. With underpants on again, it didn’t give him that pleasant vibration between the legs that Yuushi’s call yesterday did.
He flipped his cellphone open. “I’m at practice,” he said. The ball bounced away from him, rolling back onto some game. In the background, Zaizen was accusing some other junior of messing up his game.
“So am I,” Yuushi said. “Atobe’s being a dick and I’m bored.”
“Well, we’re working really hard, you know. We’re gonna kick ass this season and you guys aren’t gonna make it past Tokyo. Too bad.”
“Natural talent doesn’t need practice,” Yuushi said. Kenya could hear the huff in his voice.
“Are you saying I don’t have talent?” Kenya asked, his voice rising up in anger. “I’m the one who took tennis lessons before you. I’ve been playing longer. You just copied me-”
And then the cellphone in his hand was gone.
Kenya blinked, whipping his head around. Shiraishi winked at him and said into his cellphone, “Oshitari Yuushi? Yeah…yeah, your cousin can’t hold out, did you know that-”
“OI!” Kenya shouted, reaching for his cellphone. Shiraishi backed up and waved it above his head, making Kenya jump up and down like a moron before he relented and handed it to Kenya.
“Yuushi?” Kenya asked.
The line was dead.
Yuushi was probably laughing his ass off in Tokyo.
“I hate you,” Kenya muttered.
“At least I won’t be in doubles,” Shiraishi said. He wandered off before Kenya could say anything else.
He glared at the back of Shiraishi’s head. “Stupid ass,” Kenya said under his breath.
***
Day fourteen. Yuushi had laughed at him. Kenya had lost to Shiraishi and Chitose and more or less had forgotten about the whole competition because he had a math test last week and needed to study for that.
That, and the prefecturals coming up. He needed to do more than dick around during practice. At the rate they worked, the freshmen did more work picking up balls during practice than any of their senpais did, just sitting around and bouncing balls on their rackets and talking about the hot chicks in class 3B.
Shiraishi cornered Kenya in the clubhouse. Chitose was lurking somewhere in the locker room, probably smoking a joint with Osamu or eating mangos or something like that. Kenya didn’t care.
“All right,” Shiraishi told him. “I’m out now, too.”
“Eh?” Kenya scratched the side of his head.
“My mother told me I had to stop or do my own laundry,” Shiraishi said. “I’m out.”
It took Kenya a moment to realize what Shiraishi was talking about, and when he did, he clapped his hands together and yelled, “HAH!” He pumped his fist in the air. “Bible of everything, my ass!”
“So, does that mean I won…?” Geta clicked behind them. Chitose stood in the doorway, ducking slightly in the frame because he was too tall. He laughed, a little chuckle in his throat. “Singles three is mine, then?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Shiraishi shrugged it off. “You can go back to wearing underpants, too. I’m out.”
Chitose shrugged too. “I haven’t worn any all year.”
Kenya stared at him.
Shiraishi stared too.
“Why else would I wear these?” Chitose asked, nodding down to his yellow pants. “They’re pretty ugly.”
Zaizen happened to stick his face through the doorway at just the right moment to hear everything. His face scrunched up and he said, “Gross! Senpais, that’s gross!”
“Shut up, idiot!” Kenya snapped. “I hate you too, Chitose, by the way. And you, kid.”
“I’ll slot you in doubles with Zaizen,” Shiraishi said.
Behind Shiraishi’s back, Chitose flashed a V with his fingers at Kenya and mouthed, “The winner always wins.”
Author: Ociwen
Wordcount: 1595
Rating: PGish
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Kenya hates doubles and proposes a competition.
Author's Notes: Idea I had on the tube this morning that I felt like writing. As usual, I fail at drabble length "drabbles" ;P
Kenya was sick and tired of always being dumped in doubles. “Doubles is for losers,” he told Yuushi on the phone.
“I like doubles!” Yuushi snapped.
Kenya clicked his tongue. “Yeah, well, you like retarded movies, too.” He hung up before Yuushi could respond and win the argument, like he usually did.
“This year is gonna be different,” Kenya vowed.
“What’s gonna be different, senpai?”
Kenya rolled his eyes. Zaizen. Following him again, like a lost puppy dog, complete with the ever-pervasive smell of hair gel that hung off that kid. “Nothing, idiot,” Kenya muttered.
***
At practice, Kenya sidled up to Shiraishi, who was conspiring with Osamu about something on the bench, like usual. Captain stuff, Kenya thought. His eye twitched. It wasn’t fair that Shiraishi was picked again to be captain. He didn’t even do anything special. Practice games were decided by drawing names out of a hat and that was Gin’s job.
Kenya nodded to Shiraishi. Shiraishi didn’t look up. Kenya cleared his throat, but still Shiraishi ignored him.
“YO!” Kenya shouted, flapping his arms in front of Osamu’s face.
Osamu poked Shiraishi in the side.
Shiraishi gave him a long look before he stood up and stretched his legs out in a couple slow lunges. “What’s up?”
“I have a proposition,” Kenya said.
“Okay,” Shiraishi said. He circled his arms once, then twice.
Kenya stuck his lip out. “We should have a competition and the winner gets to play singles one in the district prefecturals.”
“You don’t want to play singles ever?”
Kenya could hear himself start to grind his teeth. Shiraishi just smirked at him. His hand was all bandaged up from his bike accident almost two months ago, but he was holding a racket with it like his ligaments and muscles were perfectly fine.
Show off, Kenya thought. “Fine, singles three then.”
“Senpai, you lost to Shiraishi last time you guys played a game…” Zaizen said, somewhere behind Kenya.
Kenya looked over his shoulder and scowled. Go away! he tried to glare. Then, he walked up nice and cozy and close to Shiraishi and whispered, “A different sort of competition. Like, a dare. And whoever loses gets dumped in doubles.”
“All right,” Shiraishi said.
Kenya couldn’t believe his luck. He bit back a grin- Shiraishi had agreed and he hadn’t even said what it was! He was too brilliant for words. I amaze myself! Your Bible shit won’t work on this, Shiraishi!
“Let’s see who can go the longest without wearing anything- anything,” Kenya hissed, “under their uniform shorts.”
Shiraishi blinked. Confused, obviously, at Kenya’s brilliance. Then, a beat later, he said, “Okay, you’re on.” They shook on it, and Shiraishi’s bandages left Kenya’s palm with a funny antiseptic smell. “We start tomorrow, say.”
“Count me in.”
Kenya whipped his head around. Then up. Chitose was lurking behind himself, hands in his pockets and smirking. “Fine,” Kenya said. Chitose would give up first, no problems. He’d probably miss his organic hemp underwear, or whatever the hell it was he wore all the time. Unlike Koharu, Kenya didn’t check it out.
“Senpai!” Zaizen called out when Kenya walked back to practice, swinging his tennis racket and whistling the tune of some corny anime that was on tv that morning. “Senpai, can I join too?”
“Yeah right,” Kenya said, forcing a laugh. “It’s senior stuff. You’re still a junior.”
Zaizen narrowed his eyes. “I hope you lose,” he grumbled.
***
Day one. Kenya changed after school and it felt weird to wander out onto the tennis courts with his bits flapping in the breeze under his shorts. Koharu kept staring at him, creeping Kenya out more than usual every time the glimmer of a megane would catch his eye.
Shiraishi stayed on the bench with Osamu, hands folded over his chest and occasionally opening his mouth to say something. He wiggled a bit more than usual, but that was it.
Chitose volleyed back and forth with Gin on the far courts. He was wearing his awful yellow pants, the only one on the team who ordered them. When Kenya looked over at him, Chitose waved.
So far so good, Kenya thought. He ran a lap around the courts, shifting his eyes around. No one noticed anything different. Perfect. The winner is gonna win.
Just for kicks, he challenged Zaizen to a game for once.
***
Day two. Shiraishi ran a lap with everyone and spotted Kenya on stretches. Kenya tucked the edges of his shorts around his thighs, just in case someone happened to look up and see…
“How’s it hanging?” Shiraishi asked. The grin on his face couldn’t be bigger.
Kenya felt his mouth hang open. A fly buzzed around him before Koharu slung an arm over Kenya’s shoulders and closed Kenya’s mouth for him. “To the left today, ne Kenya-kun?”
Yuuji smacked Koharu on the head and along with it, managed to box Kenya in the ear. Kenya cringed. Koharu pouted.
“If you’re gonna cheat on me, find someone better than Kenya to check out!” Yuuji snapped.
Kenya’s face was on fire the entire practice. He slunk into the showers last, trying to avoid the knowing smirks and snickering of the entire team.
***
Day three. Kenya kept his underpants on. He walked up to Shiraishi and said, “Fine, I’m out.”
Someone snickered behind his back, muttering something about hanging out. Kenya turned around to glare, but no one was there except a freshman picking up balls. Kenya tossed the two in his hands onto the ground.
“Pick those up, too,” he said. He didn’t feel any better about losing to Shiraishi and Chitose, but at least the freshman had more work to do thanks to him. Hah!
Middle of practice- which Kenya spent bouncing balls off the cement wall of the clubhouse because he had nothing better to do- and his cellphone buzzed in his pocket. With underpants on again, it didn’t give him that pleasant vibration between the legs that Yuushi’s call yesterday did.
He flipped his cellphone open. “I’m at practice,” he said. The ball bounced away from him, rolling back onto some game. In the background, Zaizen was accusing some other junior of messing up his game.
“So am I,” Yuushi said. “Atobe’s being a dick and I’m bored.”
“Well, we’re working really hard, you know. We’re gonna kick ass this season and you guys aren’t gonna make it past Tokyo. Too bad.”
“Natural talent doesn’t need practice,” Yuushi said. Kenya could hear the huff in his voice.
“Are you saying I don’t have talent?” Kenya asked, his voice rising up in anger. “I’m the one who took tennis lessons before you. I’ve been playing longer. You just copied me-”
And then the cellphone in his hand was gone.
Kenya blinked, whipping his head around. Shiraishi winked at him and said into his cellphone, “Oshitari Yuushi? Yeah…yeah, your cousin can’t hold out, did you know that-”
“OI!” Kenya shouted, reaching for his cellphone. Shiraishi backed up and waved it above his head, making Kenya jump up and down like a moron before he relented and handed it to Kenya.
“Yuushi?” Kenya asked.
The line was dead.
Yuushi was probably laughing his ass off in Tokyo.
“I hate you,” Kenya muttered.
“At least I won’t be in doubles,” Shiraishi said. He wandered off before Kenya could say anything else.
He glared at the back of Shiraishi’s head. “Stupid ass,” Kenya said under his breath.
***
Day fourteen. Yuushi had laughed at him. Kenya had lost to Shiraishi and Chitose and more or less had forgotten about the whole competition because he had a math test last week and needed to study for that.
That, and the prefecturals coming up. He needed to do more than dick around during practice. At the rate they worked, the freshmen did more work picking up balls during practice than any of their senpais did, just sitting around and bouncing balls on their rackets and talking about the hot chicks in class 3B.
Shiraishi cornered Kenya in the clubhouse. Chitose was lurking somewhere in the locker room, probably smoking a joint with Osamu or eating mangos or something like that. Kenya didn’t care.
“All right,” Shiraishi told him. “I’m out now, too.”
“Eh?” Kenya scratched the side of his head.
“My mother told me I had to stop or do my own laundry,” Shiraishi said. “I’m out.”
It took Kenya a moment to realize what Shiraishi was talking about, and when he did, he clapped his hands together and yelled, “HAH!” He pumped his fist in the air. “Bible of everything, my ass!”
“So, does that mean I won…?” Geta clicked behind them. Chitose stood in the doorway, ducking slightly in the frame because he was too tall. He laughed, a little chuckle in his throat. “Singles three is mine, then?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Shiraishi shrugged it off. “You can go back to wearing underpants, too. I’m out.”
Chitose shrugged too. “I haven’t worn any all year.”
Kenya stared at him.
Shiraishi stared too.
“Why else would I wear these?” Chitose asked, nodding down to his yellow pants. “They’re pretty ugly.”
Zaizen happened to stick his face through the doorway at just the right moment to hear everything. His face scrunched up and he said, “Gross! Senpais, that’s gross!”
“Shut up, idiot!” Kenya snapped. “I hate you too, Chitose, by the way. And you, kid.”
“I’ll slot you in doubles with Zaizen,” Shiraishi said.
Behind Shiraishi’s back, Chitose flashed a V with his fingers at Kenya and mouthed, “The winner always wins.”