FIC: Authority Issues, Sanada & Niou, gen
every time i go online and check my friends list, i get inspired to fic :)
sorry for the long absence...been a hell of a week ^^ i need a little time to backtrack through lj entries. i hope it's okay...
um. so this is very much a "so what?" fic. gen. started this last night, finished it today. unbeta'd, but i don't give my self-betaing skills much credit to begin with >P just really wrote this to get it off my chest.
NOTES:
This fic was inspired by two things:
1) tongari's masterful Rikkai rabu-rabu chart, from which I borrowed the title and concept.
2) Kiss of Fire. The Tony Martin version. I have an NC-17 version of this fic in my head that tangos to this tune, but will not allow itself to be written. No, you must know this. I insist.
*****************************
Authority Issues
by MorphailEffect
It all started in their second year. Niou Masaharu made the mistake of pulling a prank on the Rikkai middle school tennis club, thinking he would never get caught.
It was a simple enough prank -- harmless, but effective. It was also brought on by a slight grudge on the team's tyrannical authority body, whom he only knew, at the time, by the name "Sanada."
While admittedly Niou Masaharu enjoyed a certain popularity among his peers, there weren't many people his age whom he could get along with. Yagyuu Hiroshi was one of those chosen few. Niou and Yagyuu had been lumped in the same section ever since they started middle school, and over that time Niou had grown especially fond of this quiet, well-spoken classmate.
(The fact that Yagyuu Hiroshi was often game to accompany him in most of his little villainies did not hurt. In fact, it saved his ass. But he wasn't going to make a big deal about that, because he could get out of punishment very well on his own, thank you.)
However, in their second year, Yagyuu started to beg off from a lot of their "expeditions." He was sincere about it: there was a look of pure regret on his face while he said "I'm sorry, Niou-kun...I have to stay after hours at the tennis club."
Niou couldn't understand: he played tennis himself, what was so damn hard about it? Why would some members have to stay overtime just for extra training?
And who was this "Sanada" who seemed to pull the strings on who stayed and who didn't?
The tennis club was taking his best friend away. It was probably taking other people's best friends away, too! And their brothers and their sons! Something must be done!
That was how Niou Masaharu decided to get even with the tennis club -- which he had, honestly, never given a damn about before. Instead of proceeding with his scheduled prank, he sneaked into the club room when everyone was out training. He guessed correctly and saw that most of the jerseys were either neatly folded or hung inside the pristine lockers.
The lockers, by the way, were so clean. It was a wonder that an alarm system didn't go off when Niou worked the locks (which were standard-issue combination. Too easy) and took out the regulars' jerseys one by one.
Now Niou Masaharu always had a stack of industrial-strength stickers of warped school logos with him. The "R" was reversed and the black and white halves were switched. He'd had them custom-made in his first year, on the very day he learned that all the clubs in middle school had the exact same school logo design for their uniforms. Thinking ahead of himself, he'd known that at one point or another, they would be useful. Their time had finally come.
It was a smooth operation, and an easy escape. Niou took care that he left behind no trace that could point back to him.
But early the next morning, Niou was on his way to class...when a tall, brooding student wearing a baseball cap, and a tennis club jersey with an inverted logo, walked up to him in the empty corridor in the junior middle school section.
Then grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him up against the wall.
Niou had seen the boy approaching and his terminally quick brain was thinking "What's a high school sempai doing here? And wearing the middle school tennis club jersey...?"
And a second later, he was jarred back to normal thought-speed by the back of his skull hitting concrete.
There were no witnesses and somehow Niou knew that even if there were, the "sempai" would not have given a damn. It was in the "sempai"'s dark, intense stare that retribution was at hand. "You're Niou Masaharu." More an accusation than a question.
"-- What's it to you?"
In a shock of perversity, Niou cast his gaze down at the inverted logo on the boy's jacket. And sneered. "Hey is that how we wear 'em nowadays -- ?"
Niou was still talking when the boy with the baseball cap set his fingertips lightly upon the top of Niou's forehead. Niou stood deathly still as the invasive fingertips glided up to the top of his head, and then slowly, almost tenderly, closed on a large fistful of bleached hair.
Niou barely fought a defiant whimper. He put his hands up to pry the bastard's grip loose, but the bastard's other hand left his shoulder to clamp one wrist high up against the wall.
Niou's free hand tried to fulfill its original purpose, but failed. The other boy's grip was impossible to budge.
It didn't hurt, but it was as if Niou had never been this trapped before. His heart began to beat wildly against his chest, as if he had never been this caught.
"You have something to answer to," in a voice so low and smooth. "Come to the tennis club room at 5 PM sharp."
The "sempai" let go abruptly. While Niou steadied himself, he started to walk away.
The tall boy didn't even leave his name. But he didn't have to.
On an ordinary day, Niou would have rendered himself under no obligation to appear at the tennis club, just because he was told to. But all day, he watched the clock. Yagyuu noticed that he seemed to be running after a sort of schedule, but politely didn't inquire.
He did report, though, that it was as if the tennis club hadn't even noticed Niou's prank. The regulars took their jerseys to practice, or didn't, according to their usual preference.
Well, that was it. The prank had gone to waste, he was caught, and there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. Niou came to the middle school tennis club room at 5:03. He'd gotten himself a soda from the school cafeteria first, since there was no sense in being early, either...
When he arrived at the tennis club room, the "sempai" was already there, seated at the bench and going over a set of notes. He set his notes aside and stood when Niou came into the room. The gruff greeting was "You're late."
Niou smirked. "And you sure are pleasant."
"Rikkaidai middle school tennis club regular Sanada Genichirou. Second year, section A. Close the door."
Well, Niou had been planning to leave the door open so he would always have an escape route (and potential witnesses). But closed was fine with him too; there were ways and ways to weasel out of hell.
"It'll take a day for the tailors to fix what you've done. That's not what I called you in here for."
Niou blinked. It wasn't?
"I don't care what your motive was. You've at least shown interest in the tennis club." Sanada stood closer to Niou, hands clasped behind his back. Niou fought the urge to step back, bravely held his ground. "A while ago, it was brought to the regulars' attention that Yagyuu Hiroshi has been practicing tennis with an 'exceptional' partner, outside of the club. Consider us forewarned about your...talents."
Niou's brow furrowed. "You're saying Yagyuu told on me."
Sanada's eyes narrowed slightly. Just slightly. But there was nothing threatening in that gesture -- or at least, not for Niou.
"Yagyuu just told us about you. One of the other regulars collects your data, so no one needed to 'tell on' you."
Collect his...data? What did that mean?
"Did you know that Yagyuu is currently being trained to become a regular for next year?" Niou let the blank look on his face reveal that he didn't know. Or care. "We're open to the idea that someone who hasn't been a member of the tennis club since first year may also be included in pre-regular training. Think of this as an informal invitation to join."
Niou scratched his nose. Smiled innocently.
"Sorry! Already a member of the math club." Which he'd only signed up for just for the sake of having an organization. He never made an appearance there -- though it wasn't as if any of the geeks there noticed. His attendance was perfect, as far as they were concerned. "So, not interested. Can I go?"
Without waiting for the answer, he turned to leave.
"Niou."
Something in the way the other boy said his name made Niou stop. There was a slight aftershock, like the dread of having been pushed back against the wall by something larger and more powerful, except...
Niou's hand lingered on the doorknob.
"Put your skills to good use. You don't exactly have anything better to do, do you?"
"And anyway, I can't join," Niou Masaharu finished, as he and his best friend were discussing the incident over lunch the next day. "Signup ended days ago, right?"
"Ah, not to worry." Yagyuu was all ears. He actually seemed a bit livelier today. "You're as good as in. Your uniform's already being made."
"What?!" Niou exclaimed. "You're joking!"
Yagyuu shook his head. "Yesterday they made Akaya -- the first year who keeps giving the regulars a headache -- take the jerseys back to the university tailors. Meanwhile, he also took a set of measurements with him. Made out to a Niou Masaharu. Whom Akaya was curious about, of course..."
Of the many questions in his head, Niou chose the most suspicious: "How'd they get my measurements?"
"Actually, they have data on you. They have data on all prospective members."
"'Data'? 'Prospective members'?" Niou's curious, quick brain was already adapting to the new terminologies. "What exactly does that mean, how many are there?"
Yagyuu shrugged. "The regulars keep that sort of information to themselves. All I know for sure is that you're the only one they recently made a uniform for."
So they got his measurements -- and god knew what else -- without his knowledge? That was just ridiculous. No one from the tennis club could possibly put one over on him.
"Well, you're probably expected to pay for the uniform once you're in," Yagyuu said casually, "but it would be great if you joined. You're always bored, and besides..."
Yagyuu rested his elbows on the table. Linked his fingers together and hid his delighted smile behind them.
"Sanada listened to me talk about you once, and he really wants you in. I don't know much about him yet, but in my two years in the club, I've learned that if that guy wants something, he has a good reason for it. And he'll pull all stops just to get his way."
Niou Masaharu thought it might be interesting to hang around a guy who sometimes pulls all stops to get his way.
Sanada was just a regular. Not even an upperclassman. Not even an officer. But he managed to bend school rules and accomplish the unexpected -- even if he had to make other people's best friends, brothers and sons stay hard at work overtime.
All his young life, Niou had been around rules and restrictions -- and he had liked to go around each and every one of them. The rush was incomparable. He'd taken to thinking: if rules were constantly remade, the potentials for play were endless.
The tennis club certainly seemed promising. But there was something he had to confirm first...
At the end of that school week, he snuck out of the house and made his way back to the middle school tennis club room. The lock had been changed, but it was the same standard kind of padlock, which had never been enough to keep Niou Masaharu out of anything.
Since the entire area seemed deserted, he figured it was safe to turn on the lights. He saw a tennis club uniform ensemble lying neatly folded at the end of the long bench that Rikkaidai regular Sanada Genichirou, 2-A, had been sitting on a few days ago.
Upon closer inspection, one would see that a name had been written in waterproof pen on the shirt's hemline:
NIOU MASAHARU.
That killed all hesitation. Niou took a quick look around. When he was sure no one was watching, he pulled off the shirt he was wearing and put on the uniform.
...Hmm.
He was admiring the fabric and the fit, wondering which of the lockers had any decent mirrors in them, when he heard someone say from the open doorway: "So I was right."
Niou spun round. Sanada Genichirou, baseball cap and all, stood outside the doorway, hand in pocket and schoolbag hitched over the shoulder. He was still in school wear and was perhaps on his way home.
Niou's heart skipped a beat, but he made no move to run. He pulled himself up. "About what?"
"It fits, doesn't it?"
For the sake of contradiction, Niou answered "Little tight around the waist." It was a lie. It wrapped around his slender torso nicely.
"Suits you fine." As Sanada tilted the visor of his cap down over his eyes, Niou thought he caught sight of a triumphant smile. "I take it this means you've accepted my invitation."
Niou dipped his head and scratched his nose. Shot a mischievous look out through messy bleached bangs. "Looks that way, doesn't it?"
"I'll expect you at the pre-regular training session tomorrow. 6 AM. Sharp."
6 AM?!
Just as Niou was opening his mouth to protest, Sanada reached in and switched the lights off.
The other boy walked away from the room, unhurried. Niou heard him reciting loudly: "Get your uniform, lock the door, and go home. Don't dawdle. If you're late tomorrow, I'll personally make sure you get three months' cleaning duty and two months of ball duty for breaking into your own club room!"
Left to himself, Niou Masaharu grimaced in disbelief. Did the guy just render punishment in terms of months...?
Then Niou smiled privately, picked up his new tennis club uniform as instructed. Big, scary Sanada seemed to think his changeable rules applied to Niou Masaharu.
If Niou Masaharu ever became discontented with that leader stance, the terrible regular had better watch himself.
sorry for the long absence...been a hell of a week ^^ i need a little time to backtrack through lj entries. i hope it's okay...
um. so this is very much a "so what?" fic. gen. started this last night, finished it today. unbeta'd, but i don't give my self-betaing skills much credit to begin with >P just really wrote this to get it off my chest.
NOTES:
This fic was inspired by two things:
1) tongari's masterful Rikkai rabu-rabu chart, from which I borrowed the title and concept.
2) Kiss of Fire. The Tony Martin version. I have an NC-17 version of this fic in my head that tangos to this tune, but will not allow itself to be written. No, you must know this. I insist.
*****************************
Authority Issues
by MorphailEffect
It all started in their second year. Niou Masaharu made the mistake of pulling a prank on the Rikkai middle school tennis club, thinking he would never get caught.
It was a simple enough prank -- harmless, but effective. It was also brought on by a slight grudge on the team's tyrannical authority body, whom he only knew, at the time, by the name "Sanada."
While admittedly Niou Masaharu enjoyed a certain popularity among his peers, there weren't many people his age whom he could get along with. Yagyuu Hiroshi was one of those chosen few. Niou and Yagyuu had been lumped in the same section ever since they started middle school, and over that time Niou had grown especially fond of this quiet, well-spoken classmate.
(The fact that Yagyuu Hiroshi was often game to accompany him in most of his little villainies did not hurt. In fact, it saved his ass. But he wasn't going to make a big deal about that, because he could get out of punishment very well on his own, thank you.)
However, in their second year, Yagyuu started to beg off from a lot of their "expeditions." He was sincere about it: there was a look of pure regret on his face while he said "I'm sorry, Niou-kun...I have to stay after hours at the tennis club."
Niou couldn't understand: he played tennis himself, what was so damn hard about it? Why would some members have to stay overtime just for extra training?
And who was this "Sanada" who seemed to pull the strings on who stayed and who didn't?
The tennis club was taking his best friend away. It was probably taking other people's best friends away, too! And their brothers and their sons! Something must be done!
That was how Niou Masaharu decided to get even with the tennis club -- which he had, honestly, never given a damn about before. Instead of proceeding with his scheduled prank, he sneaked into the club room when everyone was out training. He guessed correctly and saw that most of the jerseys were either neatly folded or hung inside the pristine lockers.
The lockers, by the way, were so clean. It was a wonder that an alarm system didn't go off when Niou worked the locks (which were standard-issue combination. Too easy) and took out the regulars' jerseys one by one.
Now Niou Masaharu always had a stack of industrial-strength stickers of warped school logos with him. The "R" was reversed and the black and white halves were switched. He'd had them custom-made in his first year, on the very day he learned that all the clubs in middle school had the exact same school logo design for their uniforms. Thinking ahead of himself, he'd known that at one point or another, they would be useful. Their time had finally come.
It was a smooth operation, and an easy escape. Niou took care that he left behind no trace that could point back to him.
But early the next morning, Niou was on his way to class...when a tall, brooding student wearing a baseball cap, and a tennis club jersey with an inverted logo, walked up to him in the empty corridor in the junior middle school section.
Then grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him up against the wall.
Niou had seen the boy approaching and his terminally quick brain was thinking "What's a high school sempai doing here? And wearing the middle school tennis club jersey...?"
And a second later, he was jarred back to normal thought-speed by the back of his skull hitting concrete.
There were no witnesses and somehow Niou knew that even if there were, the "sempai" would not have given a damn. It was in the "sempai"'s dark, intense stare that retribution was at hand. "You're Niou Masaharu." More an accusation than a question.
"-- What's it to you?"
In a shock of perversity, Niou cast his gaze down at the inverted logo on the boy's jacket. And sneered. "Hey is that how we wear 'em nowadays -- ?"
Niou was still talking when the boy with the baseball cap set his fingertips lightly upon the top of Niou's forehead. Niou stood deathly still as the invasive fingertips glided up to the top of his head, and then slowly, almost tenderly, closed on a large fistful of bleached hair.
Niou barely fought a defiant whimper. He put his hands up to pry the bastard's grip loose, but the bastard's other hand left his shoulder to clamp one wrist high up against the wall.
Niou's free hand tried to fulfill its original purpose, but failed. The other boy's grip was impossible to budge.
It didn't hurt, but it was as if Niou had never been this trapped before. His heart began to beat wildly against his chest, as if he had never been this caught.
"You have something to answer to," in a voice so low and smooth. "Come to the tennis club room at 5 PM sharp."
The "sempai" let go abruptly. While Niou steadied himself, he started to walk away.
The tall boy didn't even leave his name. But he didn't have to.
On an ordinary day, Niou would have rendered himself under no obligation to appear at the tennis club, just because he was told to. But all day, he watched the clock. Yagyuu noticed that he seemed to be running after a sort of schedule, but politely didn't inquire.
He did report, though, that it was as if the tennis club hadn't even noticed Niou's prank. The regulars took their jerseys to practice, or didn't, according to their usual preference.
Well, that was it. The prank had gone to waste, he was caught, and there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. Niou came to the middle school tennis club room at 5:03. He'd gotten himself a soda from the school cafeteria first, since there was no sense in being early, either...
When he arrived at the tennis club room, the "sempai" was already there, seated at the bench and going over a set of notes. He set his notes aside and stood when Niou came into the room. The gruff greeting was "You're late."
Niou smirked. "And you sure are pleasant."
"Rikkaidai middle school tennis club regular Sanada Genichirou. Second year, section A. Close the door."
Well, Niou had been planning to leave the door open so he would always have an escape route (and potential witnesses). But closed was fine with him too; there were ways and ways to weasel out of hell.
"It'll take a day for the tailors to fix what you've done. That's not what I called you in here for."
Niou blinked. It wasn't?
"I don't care what your motive was. You've at least shown interest in the tennis club." Sanada stood closer to Niou, hands clasped behind his back. Niou fought the urge to step back, bravely held his ground. "A while ago, it was brought to the regulars' attention that Yagyuu Hiroshi has been practicing tennis with an 'exceptional' partner, outside of the club. Consider us forewarned about your...talents."
Niou's brow furrowed. "You're saying Yagyuu told on me."
Sanada's eyes narrowed slightly. Just slightly. But there was nothing threatening in that gesture -- or at least, not for Niou.
"Yagyuu just told us about you. One of the other regulars collects your data, so no one needed to 'tell on' you."
Collect his...data? What did that mean?
"Did you know that Yagyuu is currently being trained to become a regular for next year?" Niou let the blank look on his face reveal that he didn't know. Or care. "We're open to the idea that someone who hasn't been a member of the tennis club since first year may also be included in pre-regular training. Think of this as an informal invitation to join."
Niou scratched his nose. Smiled innocently.
"Sorry! Already a member of the math club." Which he'd only signed up for just for the sake of having an organization. He never made an appearance there -- though it wasn't as if any of the geeks there noticed. His attendance was perfect, as far as they were concerned. "So, not interested. Can I go?"
Without waiting for the answer, he turned to leave.
"Niou."
Something in the way the other boy said his name made Niou stop. There was a slight aftershock, like the dread of having been pushed back against the wall by something larger and more powerful, except...
Niou's hand lingered on the doorknob.
"Put your skills to good use. You don't exactly have anything better to do, do you?"
"And anyway, I can't join," Niou Masaharu finished, as he and his best friend were discussing the incident over lunch the next day. "Signup ended days ago, right?"
"Ah, not to worry." Yagyuu was all ears. He actually seemed a bit livelier today. "You're as good as in. Your uniform's already being made."
"What?!" Niou exclaimed. "You're joking!"
Yagyuu shook his head. "Yesterday they made Akaya -- the first year who keeps giving the regulars a headache -- take the jerseys back to the university tailors. Meanwhile, he also took a set of measurements with him. Made out to a Niou Masaharu. Whom Akaya was curious about, of course..."
Of the many questions in his head, Niou chose the most suspicious: "How'd they get my measurements?"
"Actually, they have data on you. They have data on all prospective members."
"'Data'? 'Prospective members'?" Niou's curious, quick brain was already adapting to the new terminologies. "What exactly does that mean, how many are there?"
Yagyuu shrugged. "The regulars keep that sort of information to themselves. All I know for sure is that you're the only one they recently made a uniform for."
So they got his measurements -- and god knew what else -- without his knowledge? That was just ridiculous. No one from the tennis club could possibly put one over on him.
"Well, you're probably expected to pay for the uniform once you're in," Yagyuu said casually, "but it would be great if you joined. You're always bored, and besides..."
Yagyuu rested his elbows on the table. Linked his fingers together and hid his delighted smile behind them.
"Sanada listened to me talk about you once, and he really wants you in. I don't know much about him yet, but in my two years in the club, I've learned that if that guy wants something, he has a good reason for it. And he'll pull all stops just to get his way."
Niou Masaharu thought it might be interesting to hang around a guy who sometimes pulls all stops to get his way.
Sanada was just a regular. Not even an upperclassman. Not even an officer. But he managed to bend school rules and accomplish the unexpected -- even if he had to make other people's best friends, brothers and sons stay hard at work overtime.
All his young life, Niou had been around rules and restrictions -- and he had liked to go around each and every one of them. The rush was incomparable. He'd taken to thinking: if rules were constantly remade, the potentials for play were endless.
The tennis club certainly seemed promising. But there was something he had to confirm first...
At the end of that school week, he snuck out of the house and made his way back to the middle school tennis club room. The lock had been changed, but it was the same standard kind of padlock, which had never been enough to keep Niou Masaharu out of anything.
Since the entire area seemed deserted, he figured it was safe to turn on the lights. He saw a tennis club uniform ensemble lying neatly folded at the end of the long bench that Rikkaidai regular Sanada Genichirou, 2-A, had been sitting on a few days ago.
Upon closer inspection, one would see that a name had been written in waterproof pen on the shirt's hemline:
NIOU MASAHARU.
That killed all hesitation. Niou took a quick look around. When he was sure no one was watching, he pulled off the shirt he was wearing and put on the uniform.
...Hmm.
He was admiring the fabric and the fit, wondering which of the lockers had any decent mirrors in them, when he heard someone say from the open doorway: "So I was right."
Niou spun round. Sanada Genichirou, baseball cap and all, stood outside the doorway, hand in pocket and schoolbag hitched over the shoulder. He was still in school wear and was perhaps on his way home.
Niou's heart skipped a beat, but he made no move to run. He pulled himself up. "About what?"
"It fits, doesn't it?"
For the sake of contradiction, Niou answered "Little tight around the waist." It was a lie. It wrapped around his slender torso nicely.
"Suits you fine." As Sanada tilted the visor of his cap down over his eyes, Niou thought he caught sight of a triumphant smile. "I take it this means you've accepted my invitation."
Niou dipped his head and scratched his nose. Shot a mischievous look out through messy bleached bangs. "Looks that way, doesn't it?"
"I'll expect you at the pre-regular training session tomorrow. 6 AM. Sharp."
6 AM?!
Just as Niou was opening his mouth to protest, Sanada reached in and switched the lights off.
The other boy walked away from the room, unhurried. Niou heard him reciting loudly: "Get your uniform, lock the door, and go home. Don't dawdle. If you're late tomorrow, I'll personally make sure you get three months' cleaning duty and two months of ball duty for breaking into your own club room!"
Left to himself, Niou Masaharu grimaced in disbelief. Did the guy just render punishment in terms of months...?
Then Niou smiled privately, picked up his new tennis club uniform as instructed. Big, scary Sanada seemed to think his changeable rules applied to Niou Masaharu.
If Niou Masaharu ever became discontented with that leader stance, the terrible regular had better watch himself.