Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Reason ❯ Reason to Associate ( Chapter 5 )

Title: Reason to Associate

Author: Lethanon

Archive: www.geocities.com/lethanon

Fandom: Prince of Tennis

Pairings: TachIbu

Warnings: Angst.

Notes: occurs over the time span from the Sengoku vs Kamio match past the Rikkaidai vs Fudomine match.

He could feel it, right in the center of his neck. A hole, drilled, filled and drilled again, over and over until he felt it so hard, so piercing that he couldn't feel it at all. Empty space, dead, hovering there, waiting for him to turn, to see, to accept the challenge. Kippei continued to watch the match, like he was supposed to, and tried to ignore it, tried to distance himself from that almost pain waiting for him and observed. Watched the game. Lived it. Breathed it.

Kamio had to win. If he didn't, Shinji would never forgive either of them, but Kippei knew, had that feeling that this was the match. This was the one waiting for Akira, to make him evolve. The signs had been there for weeks in the endless days of training, Akira pitted constantly against Shinji, over and over until he grew so frustrated at the Spot that his focus would change, his speed increase until even Shinji as having trouble even seeing the ball to hit it back, let alone put any sort of technique on it. Akira was on the brink; in the middle of his chance.

Kippei couldn't give that to Shinji, could not hand the match over to Akira's best friend to simply tuck away under a disgruntled belt. Worse, if he gave it to Shinji, if he let him evolve, what disaster would that reap? No, this was Akira's match and he would win because the team was watching, waiting expectantly and even though a loss would end in victory when Kippei played that wasn't enough. He wanted to see it; wanted to feel Akira's style shift onto that higher plain.

Besides, Shinji's 6-0 defeat of the person who had thought him weak, to whom Shinji had resigned a game after the crash, had been victory enough. Shinji had redeemed himself, would stop badgering him about wanting to play that goon with the glasses and finally talk seriously about their next opponent, whoever that was going to be. Though Kippei knew it would be Rikkaidai, because even if Akira lost, Sengoku was Yamabuki's last card and Kippei knew he would have no trouble defeating their Singles one.

It came, as he knew it would. That moment when you give in, lose the rhythm, and lose the match, or fight, haul it back to yourself with one shocking shot that stole it all back. Akira took it with both hands and yanked the ground out from under Sengoku's feet. Apparently black was the lucky color of the day. As soon as he saw it, this Sonic Bullet Akira had been playing with for weeks, Kippei knew Akira would win. Even at the tiebreak there was no doubt. He heard the team murmuring, yelling encouragement but he simply watched and waited, and then it was there, and Akira fell back on the ground with a triumphant sigh that Kippei felt through every bone.

Yet another progression. Yet more power, more adeptness, ambition and endurance. They grew stronger so quickly he was almost not sure what to make of them, but they were his, regardless of what else they might be.

It was a slow haul off the courts, Ishida and Sakurai carting Akira off to the bus while Kyo and Mori gathered the bags. Kippei spoke quietly with Banji and Sengoku, thanking them for the match and wishing Sengoku well on the rather odd-sounding tennis pilgrimage he was enthusiastically raving about, that really sounded like it had nothing to do with tennis at all. When he turned around there was no sign of his team and he quickly headed back to the bus, climbed in and nodded to the driver to go, turning to find a seat.

Akira was regaling the bus with the exact means of executing his latest technique, Mori was tossing in sarcastic commentary, Kyo was snickering under his breath, Ishida was enthralled, Sakurai mildly amused…

"Where is Shinji?"

There was complete silence. Kippei counted to three and then they continued talking, as if nothing were amiss, nothing was wrong. It was all Kippei needed to know. Shinji had, apparently, arranged another means to get back to school. Or, in more likelihood, would not return to school. Would train at home. Or perhaps do something truly odd and stupid like run off to Yamabuki to challenge Sengoku since they didn't get to play one another.

Sighing heavily, Kippei leant back in the seat, closed his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the fact he was supposed to be the Captain of the team, which was rather more difficult than he would have liked when Akira was in the back, talking at full volume over the top of the headphones stuffed in his ears.

He was more than a little surprised to find Shinji on the courts that afternoon, early for training. There was no expression on his face, just the usual blank stare that meant no one was going to get anything out of him in a public place other than a rant on whatever miniscule detail took his fancy if they dared ask, so Kippei didn't. He simply started training, paired Shinji and Akira up against Sakurai and Ishida and went to work with Mori and Uchimura, who were trying out some new formations.

No one was really into the spirit of it, most of the team a little on the tired side since the match and Akira damn near exhausted. He wouldn't usually have had training after a match, but they had finished rather early, they had had several hours break and when it all came down to it there was no keeping his team off the courts if they could stand. It was better to have them there, where he could control how hard they pushed themselves, then off on one of the street courts getting injured trying to play Momoshiro or worse, Atobe.

When Mori and Uchimura were finally getting the hang of it, Kippei turned to examine the others, to observe their match, only to discover there wasn't one. Ishida was looking from Akira to Shinji like they had grown an extra head each and Sakurai was randomly serving balls at them, even hitting Shinji occasionally, to no avail. Akira had apparently reached his limit for the day and had stopped running, but instead of taking up the slack for his doubles partner Shinji had stopped altogether. He was just standing there, in the middle of the left side of the court, glaring at the ground. Kippei wasn't sure what to make of that but figured it probably wasn't good. It was a definite sign that training was over for the day, so he demanded they pick up the balls, sent Akira off to get changed since it would probably take him twice as long as everyone else, and went himself to pack up the nets.

Shinji didn't move a muscle until Ishida bodily lifted him up and tossed him a good meter toward the balls at which point Kippei had had enough.

"Tetsu!"

Ishida sheepishly marched off to the change rooms in the wake of Kippei's pointed finger. Sakurai followed quickly, glancing over his shoulder and whispering loudly that it wasn't their fault the little bastard was lazy as hell. Mori, for once, was quiet, heading over to Shinji and picking up the balls, Shinji slowly following his lead. Uchimura was, ironically enough, the only one who dared approach Kippei, skittering around him to nab the balls and toss them in a basket nearby. It didn't take as long as he was expecting it to with only three of them collecting but by the end Kippei was still hot, bothered and annoyed as hell.

He stalked back to the change rooms to find Akira walking out. He waited with him outside while the others went in, frowning as Mori yanked the nets out of his arms and marched to the cupboard to put them away.

"Akira…"

"I'm tired, Kippei. Just leave it. Everyone will be back to normal in the morning." He made to leave, then turned around and grabbed Kippei's hand, squeezing it gently. "Uh…thanks. For believing in me…for just, you know…giving me the chance." But even as he said it Akira looked a little guilty, and he hobbled off toward home without another look back, headphones turned up full blast, audible from the far side of the courts.

Shaking his head, Kippei made his way into the change rooms just as Shinji was walking out. It was enough to make him blink. Twice. Shinji was always the last to leave, without fail. Kippei watched him go, wanted to say something, remembered Akira's words and decided against it, letting him go. The others were in similarly foul moods and he let them go until he was the only one left, staring at the cabinet lock in his hands for a full hour before he thought to lock the doors and go home.

In the morning everyone was back to normal, or as close to normal as they ever were. Shinji and Akira played a cruel hard doubles against Mori and Uchimura and Ishida spent the morning trying to convince Sakurai that his arm would never be big enough to do the Hydoukyuu. But Kippei spent the morning distracted and annoyed at himself for being so. Still, he couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong, nor could he ignore the fact that while Shinji was talking, he wasn't mumbling about anything, made not a single complaint, corrected no one and remained a step back from all social interaction, observing in the same way he had once observed the old Coach and his peers. That thought worried him through the rest of the day until Kippei found himself knocking on An's door at the end of the week, completely at a loss to explain what the hell was going on and wanting, of all things, advice.

"Oi, hang on, I'm editing stuff." An's fingers flew over the keys as she finished chopping up a piece of video and hit the burn button, turning in her chair to face Kippei, one brow arched questioningly.

Kippei moved slowly to her bed and sat on the edge, staring at all the videos and frowning at them. They were not what he had come for, but at the same time they might just be what he wanted.

"Do you have the two Yamabuki matches?"

"You know I do…but you're not going to figure it out like that, Kippei." An frowned, as if he was missing the point. Kippei wasn't even sure there was a point, so it irked a little that An was apparently so sure she knew what it was.

"Shinji, Kippei!" An got up and slapped him on the back of the head, soft, teasingly, but nonetheless informing him she was extremely unimpressed with something as she grabbed the two videos and thrust them against his chest pointedly. "It's not about tennis, Kippei. It's about Shinji, and what he thinks you think."

And with that she booted him from her room and went back to burning her latest dvd of training. Kippei wandered back down the hallway in a semi-daze, glaring at his window when he got back into his room. He dropped the vids on his bed and walked over, tracing the small window box with a relaxed hand. It was cold, untouched by a human presence, but he could see Shinji sitting there in the dark, watching something outside.

Because everything looked better when you couldn't see it properly. Kippei wondered if he just wasn't looking properly, but that explained nothing and gave him no clue how to fix anything, so he sat on his bed and resorted to what An had assured him was a lost cause, just watching the matches and if nothing else they reminded him of what he had, and why he wanted to hold onto it.

When he woke in the morning An was right; he was no more enlightened. But when he walked in early to training and found Shinji already there, on the court with a racket in hand slamming a ball into the wall as he had never done before, with no finesse or attempt to control at all, he had to wonder. He marched over, wrapped his arms around the slender waist and pulled Shinji back against his chest, watching the ball rebound off the wall and bounce off, rolling away. Left alone.

Shinji was stiff at first, awkward in his arms. Then he relaxed, falling into the embrace, all strength gone from muscles that already shook with fatigue. Kippei ran a slightly intrigued hand down the forearm, feeling the skin shiver under his touch and spun Shinji around until they were face to face.

"Shinji? How long have you been here?"

"Too long," Shinji replied softly. "And yet, not long enough." He slipped out of Kippei's hold as Uchimura stepped on to the court. His face wasn't visible under the rim of the cap but the smirk was as he motioned for Shinji to play against him.

Tachibana Kippei watched coldly, silently. At the end of the day when he put the lock on the cabinet in the change rooms it was long before Shinji was finished dressing and just after Sakurai walked out the door, turning off the light thinking only Kippei was left.

He strolled down the length of the change room and before Shinji could grab his shirt from the bench he snatched it up and pushed Shinji gently into the back wall, leaning down to remind Shinji just what they liked to do together and just what Kippei intended to hold on to.

It was the hold Shinji's hands had on Kippei's jacket that told him all he needed to know. Shinji still wanted this, more than anything else, but he was more hesitant than he had grown to be, almost like when they had first come to know each other. It was an odd recession.

"Stay at my place tonight?"

Shinji just nodded and followed him home.

*

The fall didn't hurt as much as the fear that he was letting his team down. He hadn't minded, when they had lost, but he had wanted to win a game for them. Just not at that cost. He could not harm another…not again. He had moved to Fudomine to escape that; to forget the creature he had been and become human again. His team had taught him how to breathe and he was repaying them with failure. Complete, utter and dark.

His fear was not so much for himself, but for those he loved. For the dark despair of his team as they watched him, the last to fall. The complete desolation; the fantastic blank slate that was Shinji's face for one brief moment before he remembered he could feel again. When they rushed over, it was not Shinji's hands that took his own like he wanted, but Akira's, hesitating only a moment before stepping in and snatching it up, tears in his eyes the rest of the team couldn't bring themselves to shed. This was their dream, being marched away on a stupid stretcher because he hadn't wanted to compromise himself for them. And all he could think of was them on the court, playing after a crash that should have probably killed them. He was letting them down. Had already done so and it was a more broken thing then the sprain in his leg.

It wasn't until the next day that he found the grip tape in his bag. He supposed An must have slipped it in, because it had been in his room the night before the match. He put it on the table beside his bed and spent a good hour staring at it, smiling faintly because while it was his favorite it was an odd get well gift, even for An-chan. She smiled happily when she saw it though, so he didn't say anything.

The hospital was boring. Akira came to see him once. An came every day. She assured him the team members were all training but when he asked about Shinji she just glanced at his grip tape as if it had the answers. It made Kippei nervous and he worried that the team was not doing well and that no one wanted to tell him.

The fear didn't subside until he looked up, expecting to find An once again at the door only to come face to face with Fuji Syuusuke.

He had flowers, of all things and it was rather ironic that Fuji gave him flowers while An gave him grip tape. And then Fuji actually asked what it was.

"Someone slipped it into my bag on the way here. It's my favorite grip tape."

Fuji seemed to eye it a little more warily after that, but the faint smile on his face never wavered.

"Can I have this?"

Kippei hesitated a moment, because it really was his favorite, but if Fuji could beat Akaya with it then it was worth it, and An would want it to go to a good cause, so he handed it over without much of another thought. Their match was tomorrow. He wished Seigaku the best of luck and quietly wished he had some peers on his own team, though Fuji had gone a long way to alleviating his fears concerning them.

The next day it was raining. It was ten minutes before visiting finished for the day when Shinji walked in. He didn't say anything, just walked in and stood by the bed, staring at the white of the sheets, or the brace, who really knew what had snagged his attention. He seemed distracted, a little agitated and too empty for Kippei's liking. Kippei tried to pull him down onto the bed, just for a moment but a nurse walked past and Shinji got skitterish, made a lame excuse and left. Kippei knew he wouldn't be seeing Shinji again until he got out of hospital, so the next day he demanded they allow him to start rehabilitation.

*

"FUJI!"

What on earth had possessed him to take a taxi and go to the match he didn't know, he just knew he had to, and he had come at just the right moment, judging by what was going on down below. His team came running to his side and it was such a relief to see them, but he didn't lose his focus, gaze still fixed on the court until a ball came flying at his face, stopped only by the mesh of the fence. He stared at it before quieting down to watch the match.

Akira wouldn't let go of his arm, as if afraid he was going to topple over any moment. Shinji was standing nearby, looking ready catch him. It was more than a little unnerving having them all look at him like that, but at the same time it was reassuring. They hadn't weakened. Fuji was right; they had worked for him.

Fuji won. Kippei trailed down to congratulate him as Echizen prepared to play. Shinji idly inspected Fuji's racket as they spoke, distracting Kippei constantly. Fuji seemed a little concerned at the other's close inspection so Kippei regretfully told Shinji to stop, put the racket down and go sit with Akira. Shinji stared at the two of them a full minute then walked off, without saying a word.

"Is he alright?"

Startled from his own quiet musing of just that question, Kippei shrugged.

"I won't know until I can get him alone."

"He's…interesting," Fuji mused quietly and Kippei couldn't agree more.

"Most prodigies are."

"Perhaps," Fuji noted wryly, "you should remember which Prodigy you find interesting?" He smiled benignly, no sign of clear blue eyes as he turned to watch Echizen start his match. Kippei blinked, looked over at Shinji and wondered just how much time Fuji had spent with An. They were starting to sound like one another. Still, there wasn't anything he could do about it until after the match, and even then his team simply marched him back to the hospital and left him there alone until An showed up an hour before visiting hours ended. She looked concerned.

"Kippei…you gave that grip tape to Fuji?" She was looking at the empty bedside table.

"He asked for it. I thought it might help him win against Akaya." He had understood that the prodigy wanted something in his hand to remind him what he was fighting for, whatever that was. The tape was a good choice. Apparently An didn't agree, judging by the way she was fretfully twisting her skirt.

"An, look I know you gave it to me as a get well present, but its okay, I…"

"What?!" An, if it was possible, looked even more upset. "Idiot! I would never have thought of that, Kippei, it was Shinji!"

Kippei froze, then his gaze slowly swiveled to the empty table and his mind helpfully replayed the way Shinji had inspected Fuji's racket, making sure it was the right tape. He would know. What he would think of it was anyone's guess, but judging by An's reaction it wasn't good.

"What happened?"

"Kippei…"

"An!"

"They all went to training. Shinji started mumbling in the change rooms. He didn't stop all through practice. Everyone got so mad and then he kept going. He was still going when he left, and then Akira and I found him at the street courts blathering on and on at the Gyoukurin guys…he wont shut up! When I realized he was talking about grip tape I came here…"

To see if he was talking about that grip tape. It made a sick sort of sense.

"An, get dad to pick me up in the morning?"

An just nodded, dejected and sat down in the chair by the bed.

"I'm sorry. I…I shouldn't have been so encouraging about Fuji coming all the time. I thought he made you feel better."

"He did," Kippei agreed soothingly. "He helped me realize some things. You were right that I wanted to speak to him, if only to make sure he didn't underestimate Kirihara." But what had those two short conversations stupidly cost? He had to see Shinji, but there was someone he had to see first.

The next morning his father picked him up, booked him in for rehab the next day and dropped him over the other side of town.

The house looked abandoned, but if Kippei listened hard enough he could hear the faint strains of music, music that was loud and driving and angry but muted by the phones he knew it was blaring out of. He knocked on the door for courtesy's sake and nothing more, but no one answered, so he went in, closing it carefully behind him, walking quietly through the house. He had made an effort to see them all over the months but despite that it was still not familiar to him and he found himself having to think a little harder than he would have liked to find the right room.

He knocked on the door, stuck his head around it, able to see the desk, the rest of the room hidden by the door's bulk. Akira, sensing someone there was spinning to face him, eyes narrowing slightly, feet slamming into the floor to halt his movement. The way he plucked the headphones out of his ears seemed ominous somehow.

"Tachibana."

"Akira."

"He's not here."

"I know." Kippei idly sat on the edge of Akira's bed, taking in the room. It hadn't changed much since the last time he had been. The same band posters on the wall, the same mess of clothes and books scattered across the floor. The same massive stack of cds collapsed in one corner.

Akira suddenly sighed and slumped heavily in his chair, sprawling more naturally as he studied Kippei, turning off his discman, apparently figuring Kippei wasn't going anywhere, at least for a little while.

"Core of the problem?" Kippei wasn't asking for a Band-Aid, just a nudge in the right direction since no one seemed able to give him an answer. Generally he wouldn't hesitate to go find Shinji, drag him off to one of their rooms and figure it out, but that wasn't going to be enough this time. Shinji wasn't going to give him any answers, just like everyone else.

"Kippei…"Akira shook his head, sighing heavily. "Long story made…as short as I can. You put Shinji in Singles three, without telling him why. He won, hell he slaughtered the poor bastard, went to meet his old man for lunch, was stood up and got handed a credit card instead. Came back to school, had Sakurai pelt him with tennis balls, Ishida throw him and you not do a thing to interrupt. He spent the next few weeks alone, trying to figure out what the hell he had done wrong, finally thought things were okay only to lose to Rikkaidai. Which you have not said a word about to any of us. You gave the one thing Shinji has ever given you to someone else…to another team's prodigy at that." Akira shrugged, rubbing at tired, drooping lids.

"He thinks…I've replaced him?" it was such a foreign and completely unfounded concept to Kippei, but he knew, immediately, what Shinji was thinking, and what An had meant when she said it was about Shinji, not tennis. About who they were off the courts, not on the court. The two were overlapping in too many places, tennis too engrained in both of their personalities to be separated from their private lives. And Shinji's private life was shifting without Kippei noticing. He had become so focused on tennis he had forgotten how empty Shinji really could be, without someone to remind him that they were watching.

The training session gone wrong made sense now, and it was all Kippei needed to know that he had been the only one on the team not to see it and know what it meant.

Shinji wasn't trying anymore. Had, to a certain degree given up.

"Core of the problem?" He repeated, not expecting a response. They both knew he knew; both knew Kippei understood better than anyone else would, which was why Akira was here and not at Shinji's house.

"Shinji doesn't give chances."

And wasn't that just a terrifying concept to have to deal with. Frowning, Kippei waited until Akira's mum got home and had her drop him off at Shinji's house. He looked up at the place with a dark sigh. None of the lights were on, there was no car in the driveway. The door was not locked.

There was a credit card on the bench but when he snuck a look in the fridge it was empty. Kippei was not surprised. He pocketed the card and headed upstairs. There were no lights but this walk at least he knew well. He quietly pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Shinji was on his bed, curled up in the corner, perfectly still, chest rising and falling in slow, even succession. Kippei leant against the hard word and just breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Some small part of him, that part that was entirely detached from tennis and completely attached to Ibu Shinji, had feared something. He didn't even know what, just something. Random fear, like the silence in the wake of one of Shinji's more colorful rants. He made his way to the bedside and lay down, pulling Shinji into his arms and just breathing in the familiar scent as bleary grey eyes blinked open. Too many people had been right. Even Fuji.

"Kippei?" It was dark, hard to see, but it amused Kippei as he pondered who else it could possibly be. He kissed Shinji's temple in response, feeling his frown through his lips. It made his fingers itch to take it away.

"What are you doing here?"

"Do I need a reason?"

If anything the frown only deepened as Shinji struggled into a sitting position, glaring down at him. He opened his mouth speak but Kippei quickly pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him, just for a moment.

"I belong here. Not your Captain. Not your Coach. Me."

Shinji was quiet and still, looking up to look out the window at the cloudy sky. It was a dark night, foggy and lazy. Not good to see people by.

"I thought An gave me the tape."

Dark eyes smoldered as they stared at him, rife with a thousand emotions and thoughts Shinji generally never let loose. After a while he shrugged, almost comically nonchalant.

"It's your favourite."

Kippei yanked hard on Shinji's arm to pull himself into a sitting position, pulling Shinji hard against his chest and holding him there, shaking his head, negating the comment. The tape didn't matter, it didn't rank first. Ibu Shinji did. Even if just to Kippei, Shinji came first.

Then Shinji pushed him away, damn near pushed him off the bed. Kippei knew he would have been gone if he hadn't been injured.

"Shinji?"

"You…" He swallowed, took a deep breathe, then stared at the window. "You still thought it, even if you didn't know you did. You wished you had him, instead of me. No matter what you wanted to think, I wasn't good enough." Shinji stopped, blinking, not holding back, pulling no punches. "And neither were you."

A perfect, unbiased assessment, no interferences. They both screwed up and Shinji's cold, analytical side; that side that made him so damned good at tennis was making its perfect conclusions. That Kippei was not to be trusted; was to be discarded and crushed, taught a lesson.

"You are wrong."

Shinji was furious, but Kippei held him in a grip even Ishida would not have been able to match, meeting that gaze with his own heavy, dark stare. Determined.

"People always look better when you see them completely. You always look better when I see you completely."

The shock wasn't a small thing, spreading from Shinji's eyes to every inch of his body as he shook slightly, barely noticeable but Kippei felt it and tangled him in his arms, not caring that Shinji accidentally bumped his leg, just holding on and touching base again. Going home at last.

"Kippei…" Shinji eventually whispered in his ear, but his voice was steady, back its usual mischievous tone. "Why did you put me in singles three?"

"I didn't want Sengoku to quit tennis. Banji wouldn't have anyone left to dote on."

Snickering, Shinji lay back down and pulled Kippei down beside him.

"We can't stay here Shinji."

"Why not?" Shinji's voice was muffled by Kippei's shoulder as his hands snaked under Kippei's shirt.

"You don't have any food."

Shinji blinked. Kippei felt the shift of lashes against his shoulder and smiled faintly.

"Don't suppose you ever wanted to be a cannibal…"

Kippei laughed and tangled his fingers in dark hair. He knew there was ground to be made up when they hit the courts again, but so long as they knew who they were off the grass it was easy to imagine success.

"You do need a reason you know."

Kippei just nodded. Yes, he knew. He only had one.