Higa fic ~ Kite/Rin
Title: Fight another day
Rating: PG
Summary: They lost. So what?
a/n ~ I've been drabbling all day. I'm happy for the Higa love I've seen this weekend and...and I don't know what else. This is almost gen. I feel no remorse.
There were two things in Hirakoba Rin’s life that seemed constant and unrivaled by any experience, any possible happiness that might ever be his: the ocean and Kite Eishirou. The picture that his captain made - sitting just in the surf and staring out into the horizon - was familiar and beloved, but some part of Rin cautioned him against straying too close. Up-close and personal was Kite’s weak spot.
Or, at least, it was one of his weak spots and as unacknowledged by Kite as all the others seemed to be. That Rin could accept him - admire him - and yet still see his flaws so very clearly was indication enough that what he felt for his captain far exceeded what most boys would consider decent. Rin smiled, though, when the wind lifted his hair to tickle his face. Higa’s players - their captain especially - weren’t what anyone would consider decent, in the first place. The beauty of such recognition was, of course, that they never had to feel guilty for being true to themselves and where they came from. Just because being Higa meant something far different than being Hyoutei or Shitenhouji or even Seigaku didn’t mean it meant anything less. Rin knew that - he believed it - Kite had taught him that.
He approached Kite knowing that his captain wanted to be alone. Toes digging into the sand with every step he took, he closed his eyes and smiled into the breeze. For all that Kite pretended to have all the answers and though his control seemed absolute, Rin knew better. That he knew Kite better than anyone else - which probably wasn’t saying much - spurred him on. As Kite was fond of pointing out, Rin was two parts bravado and one part apathy. When Rin would ask what part Kite never mentioned, Kite would say ‘ask me when we take it all’.
They’d tried. But they hadn’t taken it all. Rin knew that nobody had taken it quite so personally and quite so hard as Kite had, himself.
“Any reason why you’re hanging around spying on me?”
Kite’s voice was gruff. Rin wasn’t fooled and he wasn’t particularly bothered by it. He wasn’t afraid of Kite.
“Maybe I just wanted to enjoy the view.”
Casting a baleful glance over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the waves before him, Kite snorted. “The view’s the same, Hirakoba-kun. For miles along the shore, I promise.”
Rin frowned. He didn’t like it when Kite called him Hirakoba-kun. That’s what his teachers called him. But he took a step forward, reached overhead to link his fingers and stretch leisurely. Kite liked to turn his back on things he couldn’t control or pick apart - Rin didn’t intend that he would do either when it came to him.
“I wasn’t talking about the ocean. Eishirou.”
Kite didn’t look at him again, but Rin didn’t miss the way he lowered his head and the way his shoulders lifted in a silent sigh. “I wish you wouldn’t try to make me feel better, Hirakoba-kun.”
Standing over him, with his bare, sandy toes just inches from Kite’s legs - revealed by baggy, canvas shorts - Rin let his fingers brush the sides of his own shorts when all he really wanted to do was touch Kite’s hair. He hadn’t bothered with the pomade today and while his hair still wouldn’t lay flat and obedient the way Kite no doubt expected it to, it was absolutely touchable to Rin. He curled his fingers against his palm.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me Hirakoba-kun.”
When Kite didn’t answer, Rin shrugged off any lingering doubt he may have felt and knelt in the sand beside him. He didn’t touch him, but he was closer now than he’d ever been before. Kite didn’t seem to mind and Rin wasn’t certain if his silence should be considered good or bad.
“Eishirou,” he said again. “You’re too hard on yourself. Nothing’s worth beating yourself up this way. We did our best - what else could we have done?”
Kite turned his head away, looking out toward the reef where they’d relaxed and trained and formed more of a bond than Rin knew Seigaku ever would.
“This isn’t about you. It’s not about the rest of the team,” he said. He scooped up a handful of sand and curled his fingers around it before turning his hand sideways to let the wind scatter them. “This is about me.”
Resting one hand at Kite’s shoulder, Rin wondered what the proud, self-absorbed bastard would do if he kissed him. He’d be mad enough to come up swinging, Rin was sure, but at least he’d give the pity party a rest. “It’s always about you,” he said, and when Kite looked at him sharply, Rin only leaned closer. “And don’t get your back up - I didn’t mean it that way.”
For half a minute, Rin was certain that Kite was about to say something - threaten him, insult him, pull rank in any one of a hundred of his best ways - but then he lay back against the sand and pillowed his head on his arms. And then he laughed. “Pushy little punk.”
Rin snorted, not at all insulted. “You’re confusing me with Kai. You remember, don’t you, Buchou? Two parts bravado, one part apathy. Right?”
Kite closed his eyes, but he was almost smiling. “Maybe I was wrong.”
Sprawling out beside him, ankles crossed and leaning back on his hands, Rin tipped his head back and let the ocean breeze roll over him. He’d take this moment and a loss over Kite’s distant triumph and a victory any day. No regrets. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”
They were silent for a moment. Rin realized that he could no longer hear Kai and Kei arguing over the volleyball game that they’d lost and he figured that, by now, Hiroshi would be sacked out in the sand until Rin returned to round them all up again.
“Heart,” Kite murmured, relaxed and resigned and not tense as before.
Rin glanced over at him, head tilted. “What?”
“You. Bravado, apathy and heart.”
Rin didn’t answer right away. If he hadn’t been Higa, he might have even blushed. “Hold on a minute. We didn’t take it all, Eishirou.”
Kite opened his eyes then, regarding Rin over the frames of his glasses. “You keep going. To fight another day.”
Heart. I’m not the only one, Kite Eishirou.
Rin wasn’t talking about tennis anymore and, he suspected, that neither was Kite. There was more to life than tennis. There was more between them than tennis - all of them.
“You ready to go, then?” he asked, holding Kite’s gaze. “The other guys are probably getting hungry by now.”
Kite sighed, rose to his elbows and stared out at the horizon. The sun was riding low in the sky and - in another hour - it would be dark. “Few more minutes?” he asked, voice light, and Rin hesitated for only a moment before pulling his knees up to rest his chin on them. As though he’d ever refuse Kite Eishirou and a request - no matter how veiled - to burrow in the sand and watch the sunset together.
“Yeah,” Rin murmured, smiling to himself. The loss still lingered, but it had begun to feel like something else. Something much more palatable. Something almost comfortable. “We got time.”
However long it takes.
Rating: PG
Summary: They lost. So what?
a/n ~ I've been drabbling all day. I'm happy for the Higa love I've seen this weekend and...and I don't know what else. This is almost gen. I feel no remorse.
There were two things in Hirakoba Rin’s life that seemed constant and unrivaled by any experience, any possible happiness that might ever be his: the ocean and Kite Eishirou. The picture that his captain made - sitting just in the surf and staring out into the horizon - was familiar and beloved, but some part of Rin cautioned him against straying too close. Up-close and personal was Kite’s weak spot.
Or, at least, it was one of his weak spots and as unacknowledged by Kite as all the others seemed to be. That Rin could accept him - admire him - and yet still see his flaws so very clearly was indication enough that what he felt for his captain far exceeded what most boys would consider decent. Rin smiled, though, when the wind lifted his hair to tickle his face. Higa’s players - their captain especially - weren’t what anyone would consider decent, in the first place. The beauty of such recognition was, of course, that they never had to feel guilty for being true to themselves and where they came from. Just because being Higa meant something far different than being Hyoutei or Shitenhouji or even Seigaku didn’t mean it meant anything less. Rin knew that - he believed it - Kite had taught him that.
He approached Kite knowing that his captain wanted to be alone. Toes digging into the sand with every step he took, he closed his eyes and smiled into the breeze. For all that Kite pretended to have all the answers and though his control seemed absolute, Rin knew better. That he knew Kite better than anyone else - which probably wasn’t saying much - spurred him on. As Kite was fond of pointing out, Rin was two parts bravado and one part apathy. When Rin would ask what part Kite never mentioned, Kite would say ‘ask me when we take it all’.
They’d tried. But they hadn’t taken it all. Rin knew that nobody had taken it quite so personally and quite so hard as Kite had, himself.
“Any reason why you’re hanging around spying on me?”
Kite’s voice was gruff. Rin wasn’t fooled and he wasn’t particularly bothered by it. He wasn’t afraid of Kite.
“Maybe I just wanted to enjoy the view.”
Casting a baleful glance over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the waves before him, Kite snorted. “The view’s the same, Hirakoba-kun. For miles along the shore, I promise.”
Rin frowned. He didn’t like it when Kite called him Hirakoba-kun. That’s what his teachers called him. But he took a step forward, reached overhead to link his fingers and stretch leisurely. Kite liked to turn his back on things he couldn’t control or pick apart - Rin didn’t intend that he would do either when it came to him.
“I wasn’t talking about the ocean. Eishirou.”
Kite didn’t look at him again, but Rin didn’t miss the way he lowered his head and the way his shoulders lifted in a silent sigh. “I wish you wouldn’t try to make me feel better, Hirakoba-kun.”
Standing over him, with his bare, sandy toes just inches from Kite’s legs - revealed by baggy, canvas shorts - Rin let his fingers brush the sides of his own shorts when all he really wanted to do was touch Kite’s hair. He hadn’t bothered with the pomade today and while his hair still wouldn’t lay flat and obedient the way Kite no doubt expected it to, it was absolutely touchable to Rin. He curled his fingers against his palm.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me Hirakoba-kun.”
When Kite didn’t answer, Rin shrugged off any lingering doubt he may have felt and knelt in the sand beside him. He didn’t touch him, but he was closer now than he’d ever been before. Kite didn’t seem to mind and Rin wasn’t certain if his silence should be considered good or bad.
“Eishirou,” he said again. “You’re too hard on yourself. Nothing’s worth beating yourself up this way. We did our best - what else could we have done?”
Kite turned his head away, looking out toward the reef where they’d relaxed and trained and formed more of a bond than Rin knew Seigaku ever would.
“This isn’t about you. It’s not about the rest of the team,” he said. He scooped up a handful of sand and curled his fingers around it before turning his hand sideways to let the wind scatter them. “This is about me.”
Resting one hand at Kite’s shoulder, Rin wondered what the proud, self-absorbed bastard would do if he kissed him. He’d be mad enough to come up swinging, Rin was sure, but at least he’d give the pity party a rest. “It’s always about you,” he said, and when Kite looked at him sharply, Rin only leaned closer. “And don’t get your back up - I didn’t mean it that way.”
For half a minute, Rin was certain that Kite was about to say something - threaten him, insult him, pull rank in any one of a hundred of his best ways - but then he lay back against the sand and pillowed his head on his arms. And then he laughed. “Pushy little punk.”
Rin snorted, not at all insulted. “You’re confusing me with Kai. You remember, don’t you, Buchou? Two parts bravado, one part apathy. Right?”
Kite closed his eyes, but he was almost smiling. “Maybe I was wrong.”
Sprawling out beside him, ankles crossed and leaning back on his hands, Rin tipped his head back and let the ocean breeze roll over him. He’d take this moment and a loss over Kite’s distant triumph and a victory any day. No regrets. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”
They were silent for a moment. Rin realized that he could no longer hear Kai and Kei arguing over the volleyball game that they’d lost and he figured that, by now, Hiroshi would be sacked out in the sand until Rin returned to round them all up again.
“Heart,” Kite murmured, relaxed and resigned and not tense as before.
Rin glanced over at him, head tilted. “What?”
“You. Bravado, apathy and heart.”
Rin didn’t answer right away. If he hadn’t been Higa, he might have even blushed. “Hold on a minute. We didn’t take it all, Eishirou.”
Kite opened his eyes then, regarding Rin over the frames of his glasses. “You keep going. To fight another day.”
Heart. I’m not the only one, Kite Eishirou.
Rin wasn’t talking about tennis anymore and, he suspected, that neither was Kite. There was more to life than tennis. There was more between them than tennis - all of them.
“You ready to go, then?” he asked, holding Kite’s gaze. “The other guys are probably getting hungry by now.”
Kite sighed, rose to his elbows and stared out at the horizon. The sun was riding low in the sky and - in another hour - it would be dark. “Few more minutes?” he asked, voice light, and Rin hesitated for only a moment before pulling his knees up to rest his chin on them. As though he’d ever refuse Kite Eishirou and a request - no matter how veiled - to burrow in the sand and watch the sunset together.
“Yeah,” Rin murmured, smiling to himself. The loss still lingered, but it had begun to feel like something else. Something much more palatable. Something almost comfortable. “We got time.”
However long it takes.