Log: The Echizen Brothers
Who: Echizen Ryoga and Echizen Ryoma
What: After receiving questionable Christmas gifts from their father, the two brothers finally realize they have more than one thing in common.
Where: Ryoma's room
When: Waaaaaay backdated: December 27th(!)
Rating: PG for discussion about Nanjiroh. >.>
Comments: Ryoma's first log! His first time~! Mun is sooooo proud... *wibbly!Gottis* Also. Feel free to leave comments. ♥
It had been, Ryoga decided, far too long since he'd last seen his oh-so-dear little brother outside classroom. Which meant he owed Ryoma a visit. Perhaps he could even offer brotherly support over whatever traumatized state poor Ryoma had to be in after their dear father's gifts... that or at least point out just how much worse his presents had been. Surely Ryoma's couldn't be worse.
With this in mind, he found himself outside the room his brother lived in, carrying Ponta and chocolate as offerings, knocking on the door to see if his brother was inside. "Chibi-suke?" he called out. "Are you in there?"
It was there in his hands. It was there in front of him and he held it in front of his crotch and stared into the mirror, quite aghast over the sight that met him. It was pink. It was frilly. It was a skirt, and it looked like it fitted him perfectly. It was a pink skirt that fit him perfectly that his father had bought for him. For Christmas. Along with Ponta, and Ponta was good. Along with porno magazines, which wasn't good. And it still was a skirt.
What if his father managed to trick him into actually wearing the thing in public? What if he wanted to sneak a peek, or some weird stuff like that that Nanjiroh could come up with just because he was bored. Maybe he should try the skirt on. Just because. Just once.
Still dazed by the odd little fact that he had pink frillyness so close to himself, Ryoma ogled into the mirror once the skirt sat snugly around his narrow hips and replied absentmindedly when the call from the other side of the door came:
"Yeah, it's open."
Opening the door, Ryoga peeked inside. His eyes widened, though, as he caught sight of his little brother... apparently trying to see what he'd look like in a skirt, judging by the way he kept modelling before the mirror. In a very pink, very frilly skirt that fit him perfectly.
"Ah... Chibisuke?" he asked, the surprise clear in his tone. "I'm not going to disapprove or anything, I mean, to each their own and all, but... how come I've never noticed your little hobby before?" He slipped in and closed the door behind himself. Better not let anyone else see in case his brother wanted to keep it a secret after all.
Ryoma twirled around, face immediately beet red and he wished that he didn't have the skirt on, that he could just drop it to the floor and maybe step on it. Yes, stepping on it would be a nice little touch, wouldn't it? But... He couldn't. Damn.
"Because it isn't some damn hobby," he managed after a moment's brainless ogling at his brother. "It's... I don't know. Christmas present, you know?"
"...Wait, don't tell me. Let me guess. It was old man, wasn't it?" Ryoga sighed, rolling his eyes. Echizen Nanjirou... was making it all too easy to hate him, really. Not that Ryoga needed much help for that. "Though I still claim I got the worse deal here," he then added dryly. "At least the skirt suits you."
"Of course it was," Ryoma spat, eyebrows furrowed tightly. "And oh, really? What did you get then?"
It honestly couldn't be worse than having your father more or less shouting in your face that you should have been a girl, but since you aren't, but you look like a girl anyway, here's a skirt for you so I can perv happily on you without having to face the fact that you are a boy. Or something like that. Ryoma honestly wasn't too eager to figure out just exactly how his father's brain worked.
"Perverted things." Ryoga shuddered. "Let's just say there were orange-flavoured... things. And something I couldn't even take into my room because An-chan's brother would kill me."
Oh, it could indeed be worse if the said father was shoving a... sex doll... at you and saying you obviously needed to get laid and really what kind of man did not get laid while rooming with a cute girl?
"He kinda has a one track mind, doesn't he," muttered the boy whose mind most of the time revolved around tennis or his cat. He flopped down on his bed with an exhausted expression on his face and then he produced something that was pretty much akin to a pout. "You think he does it on purpose?"
"Sometimes I'm not sure if there's even that one track," Ryoga sighed. "Does what on purpose? Pervs on us? Definitely. Tries to get us into trouble? ...All too possible, really." He rolled his eyes. "Really, as far as fatherly behaviour goes, he's not doing very well." 'Perhaps you should run away too,' he almost said. Almost. However, he was fairly sure that wouldn't have been entirely appropriate.
"Then why the heck did he get kids in the first place," Ryoma muttered, shaking his head. He walked over to his desk, pulled out a drawer and picked out two cans of fanta that he had tucked away there. Grape flavored of course. He threw one of the cans in Ryoga's direction, hoping that he would catch it before it hit the floor, and opened the other. "Well... I sorta see why you don't live at home, you know. What's with the teaching job? I mean, why chose to stay in school when you could just get the hell away from it?"
"Because kids make for damn amusing toys," Ryoga murmured in response, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Can't think of any other reason for that man." He caught the can flying his way, opening it and taking a sip. "What do you mean, what's with the job? I just thought it might be interesting. I mean, it's not like it was my childhood dream to become a teacher or anything, but they were willing to hire me even without a university degree and I grabbed the opportunity. And you know what? I kinda like it." Ryoga grinned. "I mean, sure, there are probably better jobs in the world, but certainly worse ones, too. And, well, I could almost see myself doing this as a long-term thing."
"Kinda twisted, isn't it," Ryoma growled, taking a sip on his fanta. Let's not talk about that bastard anymore, please. Change of subject... Good. And, even though Ryoma hated to admit it to himself, somewhat interesting. Somewhere deep inside, he guessed he wanted to know more about Ryoga as well, even if he'd rather die than admit to that. "Long time, huh? You know, it ain't tennis."
"I know it isn't tennis," Ryoga sighed, though his tone wasn't exactly one of disappointment. "However, although I enjoy tennis, I really don't think it's going to be my -- how was it? -- ah, yes, my big dream. For you and the old man, perhaps, but not for me." He ran his lower lip thoughtfully along the edge of his own fanta. "To me, tennis was at first... it was something that got me attention from the old man. I played, and I got good at it... Now, it's fun, but... it's not the whole world for me. I don't know if it ever was. I'm here, I watch all these kids taking themselves to the breaking point for the sake of it... and I find myself thinking, what's the point? Is it really worth it, taking tennis to that level? Breaking yourself just to win one match?" He shrugged, sipping at his drink. "I mean, I'm not trying to insult or belittle you lot. I know it's important to you. I guess... I guess I just grew out of it, at some point."
"Maybe you just found out the fun of tennis too late," Ryoma mused. "I mean, I don't think it happens all that often that if you're pushed into something, for one reason or the other, then you kinda don't like it on the same level or something, you know?" He shook his head, making a small face. "Never mind... That sounded too weird."
"It doesn't sound weird at all," Ryoga protested. "Rather, it makes an awful lot of sense. I suppose I'd find tennis much more important if I'd discovered it myself instead of the old man pushing me into it. I mean, he always just kind of assumed we both wanted to play, didn't he? And, well..." He chuckled a bit... uneasily, almost. "Sometimes... sometimes it felt as though he was only playing with me to motivate you. Though probably I'm now the one who sounds weird..."
Ryoma's face hardened for a moment, and he threw his now empty soda can into the trash can. "Well, wouldn't surprise me if that were the case. Old geezer's too damn... Oh, I don't know." He paused, tilting his cap down over his eyes. "Just think it sucks."
"Better not dwell too much on it," Ryoga concluded. Talking about his father practically never failed to upset him on some level. Emptying his own soda, he resisted the urge to pat Ryoma on the head, presuming his dear brother would not truly appreciate such a gesture. "I do hope you won't grow tired of tennis," he said sincerely. He was still looking for his own big dream; he very much hoped his dear Chibi-suke wouldn't have to be as confused as he was.
Talking about their father managed to tick Ryoma off on more levels than one, and he was surprised at the relief he felt when his brother more definitely changed the subject. "Well, I have one goal, you know?" He flopped down on a chair. "I will beat him. And when I do, I've always told myself that I'll quit. But you know..." He looked up, giving his brother a crooked smile. "The irony is that recently I've kind of rekindled my love for tennis. And of all things... It's partly his doing."
"I fully support you in that goal," Ryoga said with a faint tone of amusement. "I'll never be good enough to beat him... but the day I see you beat him, I promise I'll be right there cheering you on." He then tilted his head to the side. "Perhaps it's partly his doing... but it's not because of him that you love it, is it? I should think it's better for you to do something you enjoy, even if it is something he forced on you, than avoid your true love just to spite him."
The younger boy could only nod at that and then smirked. "You know what would rock? If I do beat him, and quit tennis all together? What if I pursued a music career... In a genre that he hates!"
Ryoga couldn't help but laugh at that. "Why not fall in love with a man while you are at it?" he teased. "That'd certainly bring his pervy heterosexual heart to a halt altogether, his wonder boy playing for the other team!"
"What, you're offering?" Ryoma looked up, smirking. Then he nodded, slowly. "I could do that, I suppose." Because the gods knew he missed Momo-senpai a lot more than should be considered healthy, since they were just best friends. Or something. Or the other. He really wasn't good at thinking about things like that.
"...No. No, I'm not." Ryoga made a face. Adopted or not -- depending on who you believed -- he did consider Ryoma his little brother, and incest... was very much not his thing. He couldn't help but blink, then, as Ryoma didn't seem shocked, startled, or even surprised at his half-serious suggestion. "Wait, you mean the old man hasn't managed to raise you into a violent homophobe?" Not that he was complaining, certainly...
"If I was a homophobe, I doubt I'd survive. We're playing tennis, remember?" Ryoma smirked. "I read somewhere that that it's one of the most gay sports in the world. And from what I've seen... I kinda believe that. Just don't think the old man's noticed that yet."
"Well, considering the way the students seem to be pairing up left and right..." Ryoga grinned. Not that he could blame the kids, really. Being surrounded by such beautiful, attractive boys day after day... "And everyone knows most good doubles pairs are as good as married, ne?"
Ryoma snorted. "I think Oishi-senpai and Eiji-senpai might have been married before they even knew of each other."
"True, true." Not that Ryoga knew them even nearly as well as Ryoma did, but... well. Even going by what little he had seen of the two, it was fairly obvious. "And Kite-kun and Atobe-kun certainly seem to be quite attached to each other... Did you know Atobe-kun is tutoring Kite-kun in English even though Kite-kun is one of my best students? He just never lets his boyfriend notice just how good he is." He smiled brightly. "That, Ryoma, is love."
Ever the cynic, Ryoma couldn't stop himself from quirking an eyebrow at that. "Or maybe it's just freaky, stalkerish obsession." He chuckled, restlessly getting to his feet and walking up to the tennis racket he had propped up against the wall. He grabbed it and weighed it in his hand, and then started to toss it from one hand to the other and back again. "Hell if I know, I'm no Freud. Wanna play?" And yes, he could switch subjects from love to tennis at the blink of an eye. Ryoma was just awesome like that.
"Might be that, too," Ryoga admitted lightly. Then, laughing at Ryoma's sudden change of subject, he nodded. "Fine with me! Though I do fear I can't offer quite as much of an opponent as almost any kid around here... but then, I suppose it's only fair you have one talent against my general awesomeness so you won't feel totally inferior."
Shouldering his racket, Ryoma walked over to the door and then, with his hand on the door handle, turned around to face Ryoga, a sweet smile on his face.
"Mada mada da ne."
What: After receiving questionable Christmas gifts from their father, the two brothers finally realize they have more than one thing in common.
Where: Ryoma's room
When: Waaaaaay backdated: December 27th(!)
Rating: PG for discussion about Nanjiroh. >.>
Comments: Ryoma's first log! His first time~! Mun is sooooo proud... *wibbly!Gottis* Also. Feel free to leave comments. ♥
It had been, Ryoga decided, far too long since he'd last seen his oh-so-dear little brother outside classroom. Which meant he owed Ryoma a visit. Perhaps he could even offer brotherly support over whatever traumatized state poor Ryoma had to be in after their dear father's gifts... that or at least point out just how much worse his presents had been. Surely Ryoma's couldn't be worse.
With this in mind, he found himself outside the room his brother lived in, carrying Ponta and chocolate as offerings, knocking on the door to see if his brother was inside. "Chibi-suke?" he called out. "Are you in there?"
It was there in his hands. It was there in front of him and he held it in front of his crotch and stared into the mirror, quite aghast over the sight that met him. It was pink. It was frilly. It was a skirt, and it looked like it fitted him perfectly. It was a pink skirt that fit him perfectly that his father had bought for him. For Christmas. Along with Ponta, and Ponta was good. Along with porno magazines, which wasn't good. And it still was a skirt.
What if his father managed to trick him into actually wearing the thing in public? What if he wanted to sneak a peek, or some weird stuff like that that Nanjiroh could come up with just because he was bored. Maybe he should try the skirt on. Just because. Just once.
Still dazed by the odd little fact that he had pink frillyness so close to himself, Ryoma ogled into the mirror once the skirt sat snugly around his narrow hips and replied absentmindedly when the call from the other side of the door came:
"Yeah, it's open."
Opening the door, Ryoga peeked inside. His eyes widened, though, as he caught sight of his little brother... apparently trying to see what he'd look like in a skirt, judging by the way he kept modelling before the mirror. In a very pink, very frilly skirt that fit him perfectly.
"Ah... Chibisuke?" he asked, the surprise clear in his tone. "I'm not going to disapprove or anything, I mean, to each their own and all, but... how come I've never noticed your little hobby before?" He slipped in and closed the door behind himself. Better not let anyone else see in case his brother wanted to keep it a secret after all.
Ryoma twirled around, face immediately beet red and he wished that he didn't have the skirt on, that he could just drop it to the floor and maybe step on it. Yes, stepping on it would be a nice little touch, wouldn't it? But... He couldn't. Damn.
"Because it isn't some damn hobby," he managed after a moment's brainless ogling at his brother. "It's... I don't know. Christmas present, you know?"
"...Wait, don't tell me. Let me guess. It was old man, wasn't it?" Ryoga sighed, rolling his eyes. Echizen Nanjirou... was making it all too easy to hate him, really. Not that Ryoga needed much help for that. "Though I still claim I got the worse deal here," he then added dryly. "At least the skirt suits you."
"Of course it was," Ryoma spat, eyebrows furrowed tightly. "And oh, really? What did you get then?"
It honestly couldn't be worse than having your father more or less shouting in your face that you should have been a girl, but since you aren't, but you look like a girl anyway, here's a skirt for you so I can perv happily on you without having to face the fact that you are a boy. Or something like that. Ryoma honestly wasn't too eager to figure out just exactly how his father's brain worked.
"Perverted things." Ryoga shuddered. "Let's just say there were orange-flavoured... things. And something I couldn't even take into my room because An-chan's brother would kill me."
Oh, it could indeed be worse if the said father was shoving a... sex doll... at you and saying you obviously needed to get laid and really what kind of man did not get laid while rooming with a cute girl?
"He kinda has a one track mind, doesn't he," muttered the boy whose mind most of the time revolved around tennis or his cat. He flopped down on his bed with an exhausted expression on his face and then he produced something that was pretty much akin to a pout. "You think he does it on purpose?"
"Sometimes I'm not sure if there's even that one track," Ryoga sighed. "Does what on purpose? Pervs on us? Definitely. Tries to get us into trouble? ...All too possible, really." He rolled his eyes. "Really, as far as fatherly behaviour goes, he's not doing very well." 'Perhaps you should run away too,' he almost said. Almost. However, he was fairly sure that wouldn't have been entirely appropriate.
"Then why the heck did he get kids in the first place," Ryoma muttered, shaking his head. He walked over to his desk, pulled out a drawer and picked out two cans of fanta that he had tucked away there. Grape flavored of course. He threw one of the cans in Ryoga's direction, hoping that he would catch it before it hit the floor, and opened the other. "Well... I sorta see why you don't live at home, you know. What's with the teaching job? I mean, why chose to stay in school when you could just get the hell away from it?"
"Because kids make for damn amusing toys," Ryoga murmured in response, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Can't think of any other reason for that man." He caught the can flying his way, opening it and taking a sip. "What do you mean, what's with the job? I just thought it might be interesting. I mean, it's not like it was my childhood dream to become a teacher or anything, but they were willing to hire me even without a university degree and I grabbed the opportunity. And you know what? I kinda like it." Ryoga grinned. "I mean, sure, there are probably better jobs in the world, but certainly worse ones, too. And, well, I could almost see myself doing this as a long-term thing."
"Kinda twisted, isn't it," Ryoma growled, taking a sip on his fanta. Let's not talk about that bastard anymore, please. Change of subject... Good. And, even though Ryoma hated to admit it to himself, somewhat interesting. Somewhere deep inside, he guessed he wanted to know more about Ryoga as well, even if he'd rather die than admit to that. "Long time, huh? You know, it ain't tennis."
"I know it isn't tennis," Ryoga sighed, though his tone wasn't exactly one of disappointment. "However, although I enjoy tennis, I really don't think it's going to be my -- how was it? -- ah, yes, my big dream. For you and the old man, perhaps, but not for me." He ran his lower lip thoughtfully along the edge of his own fanta. "To me, tennis was at first... it was something that got me attention from the old man. I played, and I got good at it... Now, it's fun, but... it's not the whole world for me. I don't know if it ever was. I'm here, I watch all these kids taking themselves to the breaking point for the sake of it... and I find myself thinking, what's the point? Is it really worth it, taking tennis to that level? Breaking yourself just to win one match?" He shrugged, sipping at his drink. "I mean, I'm not trying to insult or belittle you lot. I know it's important to you. I guess... I guess I just grew out of it, at some point."
"Maybe you just found out the fun of tennis too late," Ryoma mused. "I mean, I don't think it happens all that often that if you're pushed into something, for one reason or the other, then you kinda don't like it on the same level or something, you know?" He shook his head, making a small face. "Never mind... That sounded too weird."
"It doesn't sound weird at all," Ryoga protested. "Rather, it makes an awful lot of sense. I suppose I'd find tennis much more important if I'd discovered it myself instead of the old man pushing me into it. I mean, he always just kind of assumed we both wanted to play, didn't he? And, well..." He chuckled a bit... uneasily, almost. "Sometimes... sometimes it felt as though he was only playing with me to motivate you. Though probably I'm now the one who sounds weird..."
Ryoma's face hardened for a moment, and he threw his now empty soda can into the trash can. "Well, wouldn't surprise me if that were the case. Old geezer's too damn... Oh, I don't know." He paused, tilting his cap down over his eyes. "Just think it sucks."
"Better not dwell too much on it," Ryoga concluded. Talking about his father practically never failed to upset him on some level. Emptying his own soda, he resisted the urge to pat Ryoma on the head, presuming his dear brother would not truly appreciate such a gesture. "I do hope you won't grow tired of tennis," he said sincerely. He was still looking for his own big dream; he very much hoped his dear Chibi-suke wouldn't have to be as confused as he was.
Talking about their father managed to tick Ryoma off on more levels than one, and he was surprised at the relief he felt when his brother more definitely changed the subject. "Well, I have one goal, you know?" He flopped down on a chair. "I will beat him. And when I do, I've always told myself that I'll quit. But you know..." He looked up, giving his brother a crooked smile. "The irony is that recently I've kind of rekindled my love for tennis. And of all things... It's partly his doing."
"I fully support you in that goal," Ryoga said with a faint tone of amusement. "I'll never be good enough to beat him... but the day I see you beat him, I promise I'll be right there cheering you on." He then tilted his head to the side. "Perhaps it's partly his doing... but it's not because of him that you love it, is it? I should think it's better for you to do something you enjoy, even if it is something he forced on you, than avoid your true love just to spite him."
The younger boy could only nod at that and then smirked. "You know what would rock? If I do beat him, and quit tennis all together? What if I pursued a music career... In a genre that he hates!"
Ryoga couldn't help but laugh at that. "Why not fall in love with a man while you are at it?" he teased. "That'd certainly bring his pervy heterosexual heart to a halt altogether, his wonder boy playing for the other team!"
"What, you're offering?" Ryoma looked up, smirking. Then he nodded, slowly. "I could do that, I suppose." Because the gods knew he missed Momo-senpai a lot more than should be considered healthy, since they were just best friends. Or something. Or the other. He really wasn't good at thinking about things like that.
"...No. No, I'm not." Ryoga made a face. Adopted or not -- depending on who you believed -- he did consider Ryoma his little brother, and incest... was very much not his thing. He couldn't help but blink, then, as Ryoma didn't seem shocked, startled, or even surprised at his half-serious suggestion. "Wait, you mean the old man hasn't managed to raise you into a violent homophobe?" Not that he was complaining, certainly...
"If I was a homophobe, I doubt I'd survive. We're playing tennis, remember?" Ryoma smirked. "I read somewhere that that it's one of the most gay sports in the world. And from what I've seen... I kinda believe that. Just don't think the old man's noticed that yet."
"Well, considering the way the students seem to be pairing up left and right..." Ryoga grinned. Not that he could blame the kids, really. Being surrounded by such beautiful, attractive boys day after day... "And everyone knows most good doubles pairs are as good as married, ne?"
Ryoma snorted. "I think Oishi-senpai and Eiji-senpai might have been married before they even knew of each other."
"True, true." Not that Ryoga knew them even nearly as well as Ryoma did, but... well. Even going by what little he had seen of the two, it was fairly obvious. "And Kite-kun and Atobe-kun certainly seem to be quite attached to each other... Did you know Atobe-kun is tutoring Kite-kun in English even though Kite-kun is one of my best students? He just never lets his boyfriend notice just how good he is." He smiled brightly. "That, Ryoma, is love."
Ever the cynic, Ryoma couldn't stop himself from quirking an eyebrow at that. "Or maybe it's just freaky, stalkerish obsession." He chuckled, restlessly getting to his feet and walking up to the tennis racket he had propped up against the wall. He grabbed it and weighed it in his hand, and then started to toss it from one hand to the other and back again. "Hell if I know, I'm no Freud. Wanna play?" And yes, he could switch subjects from love to tennis at the blink of an eye. Ryoma was just awesome like that.
"Might be that, too," Ryoga admitted lightly. Then, laughing at Ryoma's sudden change of subject, he nodded. "Fine with me! Though I do fear I can't offer quite as much of an opponent as almost any kid around here... but then, I suppose it's only fair you have one talent against my general awesomeness so you won't feel totally inferior."
Shouldering his racket, Ryoma walked over to the door and then, with his hand on the door handle, turned around to face Ryoga, a sweet smile on his face.
"Mada mada da ne."