Rikkai drabble - Yagyuu-centric
Title: Silence
Pairing: None - Yagyuu-centric
Rating: PG
Summary: Yagyuu is eloquent when he never says a word.
a/n ~ for shikishi who deserves something grand and shiny, but has to settle for my drabbles because I'm the only one willing to be at her beck and call tonight. :D Sorry, kishi - I'd intended something completely different than this. It wrote itself and left me out of the process. At least I used the Yagyuu-is-sex-and-has-no-nipples icon.
Meaningful silences were Yagyuu’s preferred method of communication. So far, the only one of his teammates to understand this was Yanagi, though Yagyuu tended toward the suspicion that Niou understood it very well and simply chose not to utilize that particular method.
Joining Rikkai Dai Fuzoku’s tennis club had not been in Yagyuu’s five-year plan, but once he’d been approached and subsequently propositioned, he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to say no. Tennis had become what golf used to be - something to learn, a challenge to meet and a skill to master. Yagyuu was not like Yukimura Seiichi - he was not so gifted that he would ever hold his racket as though it were an extension of himself - but he managed tennis as he did all things, which was steadily competent with flashes of brilliance now and again just to keep himself from being one more face in the crowd. He supposed he owed some of his recent success to Niou and it didn’t bother him to acknowledge it. Yagyuu Hiroshi was not incapacitated by an overabundance of pride and greed like so many males his age seemed to be.
There was no practice today, nor had there been any school. When he’d left the house earlier that day to pick up a new tennis bag - Marui had spilled some syrupy sweet drink on it three days previously while they changed clothing in the clubhouse - he’d considered calling Niou and asking if he’d like to accompany him, but had thought better of it in the end. Likely his partner would read too much into the invitation and Yagyuu would have to be attentive and considerate all day when he wasn’t actually in the mood to be either. Niou was a likable boy and - at times - fascinating to Yagyuu, but he required time and effort. Yagyuu wasn’t interested in expending either today.
He walked past the pharmacy, stopped to hold the door for a young mother struggling with a baby carrier and a bag from inside. She smiled her thanks - pretty and sincere - and said that his mother must be proud to have such a son. Letting the door close when she walked away, Yagyuu contemplated her words for a moment. He thought about his mother and how she wouldn’t be particularly surprised by or proud of his gesture. She’d raised him that way - she would expect no less.
He thought about his teammates and what they might have done if it had been any of them and not Yagyuu. Akaya wouldn’t have noticed, probably. If he’d needed to get inside the pharmacy, himself, he’d have edged past the woman even while he hoped they still had a few of his favorite bags of candy that always hung near the checkout lines. Yanagi would have stood back a moment, distantly amused as he watched so many men pass the young woman by, easily dismissed for carrying a baby and not a fashionable bag. He would stand and watch until someone helped the woman and he would make note of it, even when it would be a very long time before he would have need of any information he’d gleaned. Kurahawa would have hurried to hold the door for the woman and would have probably even offered to carry her bag and call her a cab. Marui wouldn’t have noticed, as he’d have likely been talking to someone else as he walked along. He rarely went anywhere alone. Sanada would help, and would take care to appear as strong and as respectful as he could, shining under Yukimura’s shrewd gaze as he always seemed to be. Yukimura would smile and wait patiently, brushing his hair away from his forehead idly. Sanada’s expression would be one of true dedication and rapt adoration, but he wouldn’t be looking at the young mother who thanked him. Niou would hold the door and sweep the lady a bow, respectful enough to refrain from flirting, but self-absorbed enough to only assist her for the praise that would follow.
Past the park he went, not stopping to observe as there was nothing he was interested in watching. Yagyuu did not lounge, he did not own a dog that needed walking, he didn’t skate, he wasn’t interested in meeting nice girls his age. Anyone his age, for that matter. Girls stared - Yagyuu looked older than he was and his touch-me-not demeanor was a challenge that most girls couldn’t ignore - but Yagyuu didn’t stare back. There was no self-enlightenment to be had in a schoolgirl’s empty smile.
He would have to pass the tennis courts up ahead and he knew, whether or not anyone saw him, it was unlikely that they would call him back. Niou was lazy enough not to leave the house on a Sunday unless there was some trouble to be had or something equally enjoyable to partake of, but Yagyuu knew that Yukimura and Sanada would be there. More like as not, Yanagi would be present, also, but would not call out to Yagyuu for reasons that would only make sense to himself and Yagyuu.
Yagyuu remembered that he’d borrowed a book from the library last week and had yet to read the first page. The truth was that he’d only borrowed it because he’d seen Seigaku’s Kaidoh Kaoru returning it once. At the time, he hadn’t read too much into such an interest, detached as it was, and rationalized that he wouldn’t, still.
He thought about Kaidoh and his teammates and wondered at the dynamic that existed between them. He wondered if Tezuka Kunimitsu was as relentless as Yukimura was and almost immediately dismissed such a notion as impossibility. He thought about Hyoutei and Fudomine and wondered why he wasn’t struck with the overpowering desire to win, win, win. He thought about Akaya’s passion and Yukimura’s cold, sharp precision and then he thought about Niou’s devil-smile when they bumped fists on the court and the way Yagyuu knew - unequivocally - that Niou wasn’t in this for the tennis. The certainty and the sudden realization made Yagyuu smile - his first smile all day - and he felt as though there were no reason to analyze his reasons for giving so much of himself to one entity. Because Rikkai’s tennis team was certainly an entity.
They all had their reasons - whatever they might be - for being willing to rip apart their ideals and their limitations for what would never amount to anything more than a bit of nostalgia when they were old men.
Yagyuu respected that. He felt something akin to pride to be a part of it, even if he would never speak of it to any of his teammates. Not even Niou, who liked to try tricking him into talking about the most pointless subjects in all the world.
On the sidewalk that lined his street, Yagyuu shouldered his new bag and thought that he might have his mother stitch his initials on the strap and that he might use the Rikkai Dai pin that Akaya had given him once. He didn’t mind if other people recognized his pride, even when it was not an acceptable topic of conversation.
Niou would see it and wouldn’t say a word, but the calculated look and the devil-smile he’d give Yagyuu would be enough.
Then they would bump fists. And they would win. Again.
Pairing: None - Yagyuu-centric
Rating: PG
Summary: Yagyuu is eloquent when he never says a word.
a/n ~ for shikishi who deserves something grand and shiny, but has to settle for my drabbles because I'm the only one willing to be at her beck and call tonight. :D Sorry, kishi - I'd intended something completely different than this. It wrote itself and left me out of the process. At least I used the Yagyuu-is-sex-and-has-no-nipples icon.
Meaningful silences were Yagyuu’s preferred method of communication. So far, the only one of his teammates to understand this was Yanagi, though Yagyuu tended toward the suspicion that Niou understood it very well and simply chose not to utilize that particular method.
Joining Rikkai Dai Fuzoku’s tennis club had not been in Yagyuu’s five-year plan, but once he’d been approached and subsequently propositioned, he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to say no. Tennis had become what golf used to be - something to learn, a challenge to meet and a skill to master. Yagyuu was not like Yukimura Seiichi - he was not so gifted that he would ever hold his racket as though it were an extension of himself - but he managed tennis as he did all things, which was steadily competent with flashes of brilliance now and again just to keep himself from being one more face in the crowd. He supposed he owed some of his recent success to Niou and it didn’t bother him to acknowledge it. Yagyuu Hiroshi was not incapacitated by an overabundance of pride and greed like so many males his age seemed to be.
There was no practice today, nor had there been any school. When he’d left the house earlier that day to pick up a new tennis bag - Marui had spilled some syrupy sweet drink on it three days previously while they changed clothing in the clubhouse - he’d considered calling Niou and asking if he’d like to accompany him, but had thought better of it in the end. Likely his partner would read too much into the invitation and Yagyuu would have to be attentive and considerate all day when he wasn’t actually in the mood to be either. Niou was a likable boy and - at times - fascinating to Yagyuu, but he required time and effort. Yagyuu wasn’t interested in expending either today.
He walked past the pharmacy, stopped to hold the door for a young mother struggling with a baby carrier and a bag from inside. She smiled her thanks - pretty and sincere - and said that his mother must be proud to have such a son. Letting the door close when she walked away, Yagyuu contemplated her words for a moment. He thought about his mother and how she wouldn’t be particularly surprised by or proud of his gesture. She’d raised him that way - she would expect no less.
He thought about his teammates and what they might have done if it had been any of them and not Yagyuu. Akaya wouldn’t have noticed, probably. If he’d needed to get inside the pharmacy, himself, he’d have edged past the woman even while he hoped they still had a few of his favorite bags of candy that always hung near the checkout lines. Yanagi would have stood back a moment, distantly amused as he watched so many men pass the young woman by, easily dismissed for carrying a baby and not a fashionable bag. He would stand and watch until someone helped the woman and he would make note of it, even when it would be a very long time before he would have need of any information he’d gleaned. Kurahawa would have hurried to hold the door for the woman and would have probably even offered to carry her bag and call her a cab. Marui wouldn’t have noticed, as he’d have likely been talking to someone else as he walked along. He rarely went anywhere alone. Sanada would help, and would take care to appear as strong and as respectful as he could, shining under Yukimura’s shrewd gaze as he always seemed to be. Yukimura would smile and wait patiently, brushing his hair away from his forehead idly. Sanada’s expression would be one of true dedication and rapt adoration, but he wouldn’t be looking at the young mother who thanked him. Niou would hold the door and sweep the lady a bow, respectful enough to refrain from flirting, but self-absorbed enough to only assist her for the praise that would follow.
Past the park he went, not stopping to observe as there was nothing he was interested in watching. Yagyuu did not lounge, he did not own a dog that needed walking, he didn’t skate, he wasn’t interested in meeting nice girls his age. Anyone his age, for that matter. Girls stared - Yagyuu looked older than he was and his touch-me-not demeanor was a challenge that most girls couldn’t ignore - but Yagyuu didn’t stare back. There was no self-enlightenment to be had in a schoolgirl’s empty smile.
He would have to pass the tennis courts up ahead and he knew, whether or not anyone saw him, it was unlikely that they would call him back. Niou was lazy enough not to leave the house on a Sunday unless there was some trouble to be had or something equally enjoyable to partake of, but Yagyuu knew that Yukimura and Sanada would be there. More like as not, Yanagi would be present, also, but would not call out to Yagyuu for reasons that would only make sense to himself and Yagyuu.
Yagyuu remembered that he’d borrowed a book from the library last week and had yet to read the first page. The truth was that he’d only borrowed it because he’d seen Seigaku’s Kaidoh Kaoru returning it once. At the time, he hadn’t read too much into such an interest, detached as it was, and rationalized that he wouldn’t, still.
He thought about Kaidoh and his teammates and wondered at the dynamic that existed between them. He wondered if Tezuka Kunimitsu was as relentless as Yukimura was and almost immediately dismissed such a notion as impossibility. He thought about Hyoutei and Fudomine and wondered why he wasn’t struck with the overpowering desire to win, win, win. He thought about Akaya’s passion and Yukimura’s cold, sharp precision and then he thought about Niou’s devil-smile when they bumped fists on the court and the way Yagyuu knew - unequivocally - that Niou wasn’t in this for the tennis. The certainty and the sudden realization made Yagyuu smile - his first smile all day - and he felt as though there were no reason to analyze his reasons for giving so much of himself to one entity. Because Rikkai’s tennis team was certainly an entity.
They all had their reasons - whatever they might be - for being willing to rip apart their ideals and their limitations for what would never amount to anything more than a bit of nostalgia when they were old men.
Yagyuu respected that. He felt something akin to pride to be a part of it, even if he would never speak of it to any of his teammates. Not even Niou, who liked to try tricking him into talking about the most pointless subjects in all the world.
On the sidewalk that lined his street, Yagyuu shouldered his new bag and thought that he might have his mother stitch his initials on the strap and that he might use the Rikkai Dai pin that Akaya had given him once. He didn’t mind if other people recognized his pride, even when it was not an acceptable topic of conversation.
Niou would see it and wouldn’t say a word, but the calculated look and the devil-smile he’d give Yagyuu would be enough.
Then they would bump fists. And they would win. Again.