Fanfic100 - Winter
Title: Life Must Go On.... Part 5
Fandom: Prince of Tennis: Fudomine Chuugaku
Characters: Kamio Akira, Tachibana Kippei, Ibu Shinji
Prompt: 061 - Winter
Word Count: 1961
Date finished: 07/17/2008
Rating: G
Summary: Akira goes to visit his parents and get some answers. And then deals with the fall out.
Author's Notes: The end. Parts one, two, three, four.
Disclaimer: Characters are owned by Konomi Takeshi, and whoever did the anime. At any rate, it's not me.
The winter season ended eventually, and they began to prepare to go back to Japan. "It's only a couple of months off," Kippei told Akira as they packed. "What will you do?"
Akira shrugged. "I don't know. Bug Shinji for a game or two, and maybe… try to talk to my parents."
Kippei stilled. "Why?"
"I don't know," Akira admitted. "I'll make sure to take back up, though. What will you do?"
Kippei grinned. "Spend time with my family - and I think I'll drag you home with me for a couple of days. My parents haven't seen you in a while, and they'd like to."
Akira looked at him, and grinned. "Twist my arm. It's been a long time," he agreed. "I'd like to see them."
"Good." The tall blonde went back to packing. "Tell me when. And if you need to, you can visit a couple of times."
Akira straightened and eyed him. "You sound strange. Is something up?"
"No." He didn't even look up.
Akira folded his arms. "I don't believe you."
"That's your choice." He did look up this time. "Akira. Leave it, okay?"
Something shot through him, and he blinked, startled. "I… okay. Sorry." But it nagged at him - the whole exchange - and what had that weird feeling been, anyway? He'd felt it for such a short time he hadn't been able to identify it. Finally, though, he dismissed it.
The trip home took forever, but finally, they arrived, and Shinji whisked Akira away as soon as he could. "Kippei will be fine," Shinji told him seriously as they climbed into Shinji's car. "He has to deal with fans. He knows you're with me. What do you have planned?"
Akira relaxed as his friend pulled onto the street. "Not a lot," he admitted. "I think… I want to visit my parents, though."
Shinji nearly ran off the road. "Why?"
"Because. I don't know. To see if they've changed? But I don't want to go alone, and they're used to you. Will you come with me?"
"When?"
"Soon."
"And then what?"
Akira shrugged. "Relax? Play, bug you for a game or two, and Kippei invited me to visit his parents, too."
"Oh, did he?"
Akira looked at his friend. "Is something wrong?"
Shinji glanced at him before turning back to the road. "No. I don't think so. Other than that?"
"Nothing. I need to plan something, or I'll get lazy and who knows what else will happen."
"Yes. I think that's a good idea."
Why was everyone around him acting so strange?
The visit to his parents happened two days later, once he'd recovered from the trip. Shinji followed him to the door, but before he could decide if he should just walk in or knock, the door opened and his sister nearly walked into him. Her eyes widened in sheer disbelief. "Akira!"
"Nee-san," he said with a grin. "Hi. Mom and Dad home?"
She nodded. "Are you sure you want to talk to them?"
He laughed. "No. But I think I need to. I brought moral support." He gestured to Shinji, who bowed to her.
"Shinji-kun," she said with real affection. "It is good to see you again."
"Hanako-chan. It's good to see you, too," Shinji said.
"Come on in," she said, stepping back. "Do you want me to go?"
Akira hesitated, then shook his head. "No, unless you really need to be somewhere."
"No," she said. "I'll join Shinji-kun and be moral support."
"That sounds great," Akira said. "Thanks."
So he walked into the kitchen with his sister and his best friend at his back. "Hello," he said.
His parents looked up, startled. "What are you doing here?" his father demanded.
Which was a very good question. "Why did you leave the knife in my kitchen?" he asked the first thing to came to mind.
His mother leaned back. "Why would we leave anything in your kitchen?" she asked.
"It wasn't mine," he said, his voice trembling. "I don't own them."
"Oh, really?" his father asked, eyes narrowing. "Why is that? Because you're afraid?"
"Yes," Akira said bluntly, "I am. And because I made a promise you made so easy for me to break."
"If it was that easy to break," his mother said viciously, "you shouldn't have made it."
Akira rocked back. "Why? Why… I don't understand. Explain, please, why you wanted me to die."
His mother stood and walked toward him with such purpose that he backed up a step before he caught himself. "Because you were not supposed to be part of this family," she hissed. "Unwanted, stupid, mistake that you are. I should have aborted you when I had the chance. Why couldn't you have just done the…."
"Enough." He barely recognized his own voice, and she stopped, stunned at his tone. "Then I won't bother you again." He turned and left the house to silence, Shinji and his sister behind him, and when the door closed, he let out a breath. "Well." His voice shook, and he tried to make it stop, without success. "That clarifies things."
Hanako put her arm around his shoulders, squeezing gently. "They're wrong," she said firmly. "They're wrong."
Shinji pressed on his other side, arm around his waist. "They are," he agreed. "And you don't ever have to come back."
"And I won't," he murmured, glad of them, because although he'd been ready for it, it still hurt, and not having An…. He flinched. "I think… I'd like to go home."
"I think," Shinji said slowly, like he used to when he thought through things, "that is a very good idea."
"You'll take care of him?" Hanako asked.
"Yes. I'll make sure… Yes," Shinji said, and Akira didn't notice how strange he sounded.
He got in the car, but Shinji seemed to take a long time to get around to the other side. He didn't care, staring out the window next to him during the drive back to his own apartment. Shinji didn't say anything to him, not directly, but Akira could hear his old friend muttering to himself, the way he used to when they were at school together. He didn't catch anything Shinji said, content to let the tone, the familiar cadence of his voice wash over him, deaden the pain that he knew would still come.
Because it never set in immediately. Never. With An and Daiki, it had taken weeks.
This… who knew.
"We're here," Shinji said, a strange, satisfied tone to his words, and Akira straightened.
"Thanks, Shinji. I appreciate it."
Shinji touched his shoulder, and he looked at his friend. "They are wrong," he said firmly.
Akira nodded. "I know."
"Not yet," Shinji said with a smile. "You will."
Akira's door opened, and a firm hand took his arm. "Come on," Kippei said gently. "Get out."
Still dazed, Akira did as he asked, and stood by while Kippei looked into the car. "Thanks for calling. I'll make sure he's okay."
He shut the door, and turned to Akira. "You okay?"
Akira looked at him, unable to focus. "I… don't know."
"Give me your keys."
Akira dug them out and handed them over, and then followed the gentle tug on his arm. Barely aware of anything, he only noticed when they came to a stop outside his apartment door. Kippei opened the door and let them in. "Wait," he murmured softly. "Wait. I don't…"
"You'll be safe here," Kippei said. "It's your place. There's nothing here that will hurt you, okay?"
He'd started to rub his lower left arm again, something he hadn't done in months, and Kippei took his wrist, pulling it gently away. "Don't start, Akira," he said, and there was that tone again. He blinked and forced his head to clear.
It didn't work.
"Where now?" he asked, giving up for now.
"You probably aren't up to much but sleep…"
"No." He jerked backwards, running into the closed door. "No. I can't… I don't…." Just the idea of sleep brought up the nightmares he hadn't had in a while.
"Shh," Kippei said, releasing his wrist. "Okay. No sleep. A movie, then?"
Akira nodded. "Yeah, okay. A movie."
And then, Kippei treated him like a guest, which Akira didn't mind, because it meant he didn't have to think. A neutral movie, hot tea, and silent company helped him wake up - or, at least, become undazed enough to think.
"Why did Shinji call you?" he asked as the credits rolled on the TV.
Kippei shifted. "Because he knew I'd take care of you."
That didn't make sense. "He knew you'd… why?"
Kippei laughed a little, reached out and ruffled his hair. "Because he knows I love you."
Akira's eyes went huge, and he stared at his friend - he could call him that, right? - stunned. "What?"
Kippei just looked at him, and Akira saw what he'd been avoiding, ignoring, missing, not seeing on purpose, and he looked away. "Kippei…."
"It doesn't matter, Akira."
Now he understood why his name sounded like it did when An had said it. "It does. You can't possibly…."
"Why not?" Kippei interrupted. "It doesn't matter." He gently brushed the bangs from Akira's eyes. "Can you sleep now?"
The nightmares weren't so close. He'd still have them, probably, but…. "Yes," he said. "I think so."
"Then I'll go."
He got up, and Akira watched him, mind reeling with everything he'd learned that night. And his heart, healing, ached. "Okay." Because anything else would sound like he begged, and he couldn't do that - and he wouldn't use his friend to assuage his own loneliness.
"Call me when you get up."
"I will. Thank you."
He got up after Kippei had left, locked the door, and collapsed onto his own bed. Maybe it was time to move, to leave these memories behind.
Two months of a break, and he found a new place to live, smaller - he didn't need two rooms anymore - and farther away from his parents. Not that it made a difference, but he felt better about it, and never really noticed that he'd moved closer to Kippei.
In light of what Kippei had told him, Akira didn't know if Kippei would still invite him home, so the invitation surprised him.
It also surprised him how comfortable he felt, standing in the front room with all of them together. The evening went smoothly, comfortably, and Akira found himself looking forward to the two days he spent with the family. What Kippei had said didn't come up again, and Akira tried not to think about it.
He couldn't avoid it.
There were just so many questions, so much to wonder, ask, think about, and he spent much of his free time doing just that. More than once, someone - Kippei's mother, usually - would touch his shoulder and he'd blink back to the here-and-now, only then realizing he'd been staring at his former Buchou.
"I'm sorry if I threw you off so badly," Kippei said as they climbed in his car after saying good bye to his parents.
"Was I that bad?" Akira asked.
Kippei shrugged. "Mom asked if you'd recovered from the accident. Akira, if this is going to be a problem…."
"What? That I space out? Call me Shinji and it'll be normal, only without the mumbling, which I'd rather not pick up, thank you…."
Kippei laughed and started his car. "Which you just started," he pointed out.
Akira grinned. "Thanks for inviting me," he said, once Kippei had pulled out onto the street. "I enjoyed myself."
"Good. That was the point." He hesitated, then didn't say what he wanted.
Akira had a guess. "No, things won't change," he said quietly. "I promise."
And they didn't, although, sometimes, through the years, he wondered if maybe they should have.
Fudomine
Fandom: Prince of Tennis: Fudomine Chuugaku
Characters: Kamio Akira, Tachibana Kippei, Ibu Shinji
Prompt: 061 - Winter
Word Count: 1961
Date finished: 07/17/2008
Rating: G
Summary: Akira goes to visit his parents and get some answers. And then deals with the fall out.
Author's Notes: The end. Parts one, two, three, four.
Disclaimer: Characters are owned by Konomi Takeshi, and whoever did the anime. At any rate, it's not me.
The winter season ended eventually, and they began to prepare to go back to Japan. "It's only a couple of months off," Kippei told Akira as they packed. "What will you do?"
Akira shrugged. "I don't know. Bug Shinji for a game or two, and maybe… try to talk to my parents."
Kippei stilled. "Why?"
"I don't know," Akira admitted. "I'll make sure to take back up, though. What will you do?"
Kippei grinned. "Spend time with my family - and I think I'll drag you home with me for a couple of days. My parents haven't seen you in a while, and they'd like to."
Akira looked at him, and grinned. "Twist my arm. It's been a long time," he agreed. "I'd like to see them."
"Good." The tall blonde went back to packing. "Tell me when. And if you need to, you can visit a couple of times."
Akira straightened and eyed him. "You sound strange. Is something up?"
"No." He didn't even look up.
Akira folded his arms. "I don't believe you."
"That's your choice." He did look up this time. "Akira. Leave it, okay?"
Something shot through him, and he blinked, startled. "I… okay. Sorry." But it nagged at him - the whole exchange - and what had that weird feeling been, anyway? He'd felt it for such a short time he hadn't been able to identify it. Finally, though, he dismissed it.
The trip home took forever, but finally, they arrived, and Shinji whisked Akira away as soon as he could. "Kippei will be fine," Shinji told him seriously as they climbed into Shinji's car. "He has to deal with fans. He knows you're with me. What do you have planned?"
Akira relaxed as his friend pulled onto the street. "Not a lot," he admitted. "I think… I want to visit my parents, though."
Shinji nearly ran off the road. "Why?"
"Because. I don't know. To see if they've changed? But I don't want to go alone, and they're used to you. Will you come with me?"
"When?"
"Soon."
"And then what?"
Akira shrugged. "Relax? Play, bug you for a game or two, and Kippei invited me to visit his parents, too."
"Oh, did he?"
Akira looked at his friend. "Is something wrong?"
Shinji glanced at him before turning back to the road. "No. I don't think so. Other than that?"
"Nothing. I need to plan something, or I'll get lazy and who knows what else will happen."
"Yes. I think that's a good idea."
Why was everyone around him acting so strange?
The visit to his parents happened two days later, once he'd recovered from the trip. Shinji followed him to the door, but before he could decide if he should just walk in or knock, the door opened and his sister nearly walked into him. Her eyes widened in sheer disbelief. "Akira!"
"Nee-san," he said with a grin. "Hi. Mom and Dad home?"
She nodded. "Are you sure you want to talk to them?"
He laughed. "No. But I think I need to. I brought moral support." He gestured to Shinji, who bowed to her.
"Shinji-kun," she said with real affection. "It is good to see you again."
"Hanako-chan. It's good to see you, too," Shinji said.
"Come on in," she said, stepping back. "Do you want me to go?"
Akira hesitated, then shook his head. "No, unless you really need to be somewhere."
"No," she said. "I'll join Shinji-kun and be moral support."
"That sounds great," Akira said. "Thanks."
So he walked into the kitchen with his sister and his best friend at his back. "Hello," he said.
His parents looked up, startled. "What are you doing here?" his father demanded.
Which was a very good question. "Why did you leave the knife in my kitchen?" he asked the first thing to came to mind.
His mother leaned back. "Why would we leave anything in your kitchen?" she asked.
"It wasn't mine," he said, his voice trembling. "I don't own them."
"Oh, really?" his father asked, eyes narrowing. "Why is that? Because you're afraid?"
"Yes," Akira said bluntly, "I am. And because I made a promise you made so easy for me to break."
"If it was that easy to break," his mother said viciously, "you shouldn't have made it."
Akira rocked back. "Why? Why… I don't understand. Explain, please, why you wanted me to die."
His mother stood and walked toward him with such purpose that he backed up a step before he caught himself. "Because you were not supposed to be part of this family," she hissed. "Unwanted, stupid, mistake that you are. I should have aborted you when I had the chance. Why couldn't you have just done the…."
"Enough." He barely recognized his own voice, and she stopped, stunned at his tone. "Then I won't bother you again." He turned and left the house to silence, Shinji and his sister behind him, and when the door closed, he let out a breath. "Well." His voice shook, and he tried to make it stop, without success. "That clarifies things."
Hanako put her arm around his shoulders, squeezing gently. "They're wrong," she said firmly. "They're wrong."
Shinji pressed on his other side, arm around his waist. "They are," he agreed. "And you don't ever have to come back."
"And I won't," he murmured, glad of them, because although he'd been ready for it, it still hurt, and not having An…. He flinched. "I think… I'd like to go home."
"I think," Shinji said slowly, like he used to when he thought through things, "that is a very good idea."
"You'll take care of him?" Hanako asked.
"Yes. I'll make sure… Yes," Shinji said, and Akira didn't notice how strange he sounded.
He got in the car, but Shinji seemed to take a long time to get around to the other side. He didn't care, staring out the window next to him during the drive back to his own apartment. Shinji didn't say anything to him, not directly, but Akira could hear his old friend muttering to himself, the way he used to when they were at school together. He didn't catch anything Shinji said, content to let the tone, the familiar cadence of his voice wash over him, deaden the pain that he knew would still come.
Because it never set in immediately. Never. With An and Daiki, it had taken weeks.
This… who knew.
"We're here," Shinji said, a strange, satisfied tone to his words, and Akira straightened.
"Thanks, Shinji. I appreciate it."
Shinji touched his shoulder, and he looked at his friend. "They are wrong," he said firmly.
Akira nodded. "I know."
"Not yet," Shinji said with a smile. "You will."
Akira's door opened, and a firm hand took his arm. "Come on," Kippei said gently. "Get out."
Still dazed, Akira did as he asked, and stood by while Kippei looked into the car. "Thanks for calling. I'll make sure he's okay."
He shut the door, and turned to Akira. "You okay?"
Akira looked at him, unable to focus. "I… don't know."
"Give me your keys."
Akira dug them out and handed them over, and then followed the gentle tug on his arm. Barely aware of anything, he only noticed when they came to a stop outside his apartment door. Kippei opened the door and let them in. "Wait," he murmured softly. "Wait. I don't…"
"You'll be safe here," Kippei said. "It's your place. There's nothing here that will hurt you, okay?"
He'd started to rub his lower left arm again, something he hadn't done in months, and Kippei took his wrist, pulling it gently away. "Don't start, Akira," he said, and there was that tone again. He blinked and forced his head to clear.
It didn't work.
"Where now?" he asked, giving up for now.
"You probably aren't up to much but sleep…"
"No." He jerked backwards, running into the closed door. "No. I can't… I don't…." Just the idea of sleep brought up the nightmares he hadn't had in a while.
"Shh," Kippei said, releasing his wrist. "Okay. No sleep. A movie, then?"
Akira nodded. "Yeah, okay. A movie."
And then, Kippei treated him like a guest, which Akira didn't mind, because it meant he didn't have to think. A neutral movie, hot tea, and silent company helped him wake up - or, at least, become undazed enough to think.
"Why did Shinji call you?" he asked as the credits rolled on the TV.
Kippei shifted. "Because he knew I'd take care of you."
That didn't make sense. "He knew you'd… why?"
Kippei laughed a little, reached out and ruffled his hair. "Because he knows I love you."
Akira's eyes went huge, and he stared at his friend - he could call him that, right? - stunned. "What?"
Kippei just looked at him, and Akira saw what he'd been avoiding, ignoring, missing, not seeing on purpose, and he looked away. "Kippei…."
"It doesn't matter, Akira."
Now he understood why his name sounded like it did when An had said it. "It does. You can't possibly…."
"Why not?" Kippei interrupted. "It doesn't matter." He gently brushed the bangs from Akira's eyes. "Can you sleep now?"
The nightmares weren't so close. He'd still have them, probably, but…. "Yes," he said. "I think so."
"Then I'll go."
He got up, and Akira watched him, mind reeling with everything he'd learned that night. And his heart, healing, ached. "Okay." Because anything else would sound like he begged, and he couldn't do that - and he wouldn't use his friend to assuage his own loneliness.
"Call me when you get up."
"I will. Thank you."
He got up after Kippei had left, locked the door, and collapsed onto his own bed. Maybe it was time to move, to leave these memories behind.
Two months of a break, and he found a new place to live, smaller - he didn't need two rooms anymore - and farther away from his parents. Not that it made a difference, but he felt better about it, and never really noticed that he'd moved closer to Kippei.
In light of what Kippei had told him, Akira didn't know if Kippei would still invite him home, so the invitation surprised him.
It also surprised him how comfortable he felt, standing in the front room with all of them together. The evening went smoothly, comfortably, and Akira found himself looking forward to the two days he spent with the family. What Kippei had said didn't come up again, and Akira tried not to think about it.
He couldn't avoid it.
There were just so many questions, so much to wonder, ask, think about, and he spent much of his free time doing just that. More than once, someone - Kippei's mother, usually - would touch his shoulder and he'd blink back to the here-and-now, only then realizing he'd been staring at his former Buchou.
"I'm sorry if I threw you off so badly," Kippei said as they climbed in his car after saying good bye to his parents.
"Was I that bad?" Akira asked.
Kippei shrugged. "Mom asked if you'd recovered from the accident. Akira, if this is going to be a problem…."
"What? That I space out? Call me Shinji and it'll be normal, only without the mumbling, which I'd rather not pick up, thank you…."
Kippei laughed and started his car. "Which you just started," he pointed out.
Akira grinned. "Thanks for inviting me," he said, once Kippei had pulled out onto the street. "I enjoyed myself."
"Good. That was the point." He hesitated, then didn't say what he wanted.
Akira had a guess. "No, things won't change," he said quietly. "I promise."
And they didn't, although, sometimes, through the years, he wondered if maybe they should have.
Fudomine