[FIC] "Graffiti," Kamio-centric, Gen, PG for language
kind of AU, placing fudoumine as a violent backwoods school. still kind of rough. would like to ask other fudoumine fans to look the details over...i'm sure most of them are whacked, but i hope, not too badly...
set before the regional matches and the rikkai faceoff. some notes at the end.
edit: eh? i can't unlock the post? O_o
edit edit: still can't unlock. bahaha IT'S A SIGN!!!
Graffiti
by MorphailEffect
He wasn't going to pass by the Fudoumine Middle School's detention hall on his way to the club room. Still, Kamio intended to drop by that hateful place. Such a sacrifice was called for today.
Sunset streamed through the corridor windows, lighting Kamio's path. The backdrop, if anyone was looking from the outside, was peeling, cracking white plaster. Some spray-painted writing. There was never a hallway without it, though most were isolated and fresh.
DOWN, said this one, in large red letters. It would be gone in a day or so, but something else would take its place.
The Fudoumine tennis club's captain, Tachibana Kippei, had taught his team to avoid the detention room like the plague. The last time Kamio set foot in that part of the school was a year ago, when the entire Fudoumine team was called in for "causing a huge scene, what the fuck were you boys THINKING?!?" and soiling their school's already soiled reputation.
They were given a warning that if a similar to-do occurred, all the members of the team were going to be expelled -- immediately. Without mercy. So they consciously steered clear of trouble.
Ironically enough, that got each individual member into even more trouble.
In front of the detention room were the rest of Kamio's team, save for their captain and Ishida Tetsu. Kamio's team was a bunch of middle school juniors in their black uniforms gathered near the door...standing, squatting or sitting, but all huddled under a silence too grim for their age.
They turned to look at Kamio as he approached. "Shinji told me about Tetsu," was his greeting to them.
"...Yeah," Mori Tatsunori said quietly. The air in the corridor was motionless, whispers carried. "We're going to wait for him until he gets out. Chances are those Akabuku [1] guys are still after him."
Kamio nodded. He would have suggested it, if the others hadn't decided on it already. "So how is he? Is he hurt?"
"Not too bad," Sakurai Masaya answered. "Take a look."
Kamio approached the door. The small circular glass window on it was above his eye level, built more for teachers than students; Kamio'd had to stand on tiptoe, but he was able to look in.
Ishida Tetsu, the tallest of the team, sat alone in the room. He was at the front row, hunched over the piece of paper he was writing on -- looking sleepless and very tired. A large purple swelling was clearly visible on his shaved and uncovered head.
"His bandana can hide it," Sakurai supplied helpfully. "And Tetsu says he can take it, he just didn't put a gauze on it or anything because he wanted to show everyone he didn't fight back..."
It must have been true: Ishida was strong enough to break a few bones if he had to. He could have avoided getting hurt altogether.
Kamio realized then that the Akabuku gang had become serious in targeting Tetsu. They were a small-time bunch of neighborhood bullies who had tried to recruit Tetsu as muscle for their more mischievous activities. Tetsu kept refusing to join, and lately they resorted to intimidation tactics. This was their first act of violence against him.
"How long's the sentence?" Kamio asked, still looking through the portal.
He waited for Ishida to acknowledge his presence, but even from where he was, he could see Ishida was too upset to pay attention to anything except how his pen moved on the paper.
"Three days, starting now," Ibu Shinji replied. "So I guess there's no practice this afternoon..." Or for the next two afternoons. If any one of them was in trouble, there was no afternoon practice. They would simply make up for lost time very early the next morning.
"We really need to practice for the regionals," Uchimura Kyousuke argued, in his meek, cracking voice. "We should stay after Ishida gets out, and ask for permission to use the court..."
"No," Kamio said firmly, shaking his head. "It's dangerous here after dark...'specially with the Akabuku gang hanging around. You guys have to go straight home." It was what Tachibana would have said. Kamio hoped it also came across as impressively.
"'YOU guys'?" Mori drew his eyebrows together. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ibu already knew, so he shot Sakurai a mild warning glare. All the same, Kamio replied, "It means I can't stay. Seigaku's Kaidou-san can only make it for a practice match today."
"Ah," Mori remarked sourly. "Well...lucky for you, isn't it?"
Ibu's glare turned into a poisoned look. "Shut up." Mori frowned, and said nothing more.
Kamio understood the tension hanging over this small group right now. If the Akabuku gang was after Tetsu, they could be after anyone who was protecting Tetsu.
He was not a little guilty for not cancelling his playdate with Seigaku's Kaidou Kaoru, even in light of the Ishida issue. He knew he needed to work on his counters. But he knew he looked like a coward, chickening out of a battle that was also his...
"Don't worry, Akira," Sakurai assured Kamio, forcing a smile. "Tachibana-san'll be with us. We'll be okay."
Kamio breathed a small sigh of relief. "I'll be with you guys tomorrow, I promise." Nodded gratefully to Sakurai. "Tell that to Tetsu, and tell him to hang tough. See you in the morning."
With that as farewell, he dashed off to the club room, without looking back.
***********
He was sure his team understood, and Mori was going to be okay with it soon. They knew Kamio was no tensai, like Ibu Shinji: he worked hard to refine his skills, to build endurance and speed. Now that the Regionals were approaching, he needed to train himself harder than ever. They all did.
Kamio Akira kept to his tasks and tried to stay out of trouble. He truly did. He was a nice, quiet, respectful boy.
But whenever a member of his team got hurt, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming need to gut the assailants with a jackknife and feed them their innards.
No one messed with his team.
ALL JAPAN [2], said the writing on the club room wall. It was in Ishida's strong hand, scrawled with a black marker. It had been there since the founding of the new club. And if the club members had any say in the matter, it would be the only permanent thing on the school walls. Kamio took a deep breath to calm himself down as he finished depositing his things in his designated shelf.
As he was walking away he noticed something in one of the other shelves. A note with large handwritten letters.
That's Tachibana-san's shelf...I wonder what...
He took out the note. On it were the words: You're dead.
Someone could only see up close that the ink wasn't black, but red. A deep, drying crimson.
Kamio couldn't recognize the handwriting. But that wasn't his concern. He suddenly realized the club room had been unlocked when he entered. He had taken it for granted that Tachibana hadn't passed by today, so he couldn't have left it unlocked...
Tachibana Kippei was currently at a meeting with Chiba-sensei, their titular club adviser -- a very young teacher who knew nothing about tennis, but who had sympathized with their plight for independence since the very beginning. And was always ready to lend his meager resources to the task of improving the club.
Tachibana would perhaps know who sent this note. Kamio knew it wasn't the first of its kind he had ever received.
But he should never be bothered with things like this. Not with an important leg of the tournament coming up.
Kamio casually crumpled the note in one hand and threw it in the overflowing wastebasket at the corner, right beneath the writing on the wall.
"Wretches," he said beneath his breath.
A lot of things happened in Fudoumine Middle School that didn't have a reason. It wasn't so much that the administrators didn't know, than that they didn't give a damn.
***********
Kamio carefully locked the club room door as he was stepping out. He calmly walked away from the club room, quietly walked out of the school.
He walked past the bus stop in front of the school. He walked past another bus stop. He kept on walking. He stopped when there were no more bus stops in sight.
Then he spun round, hit the nearest wall with his fist.
The wall was the side of an old, neglected building...one in a line of many old, neglected buildings. On it were a myriad of obscenities in neon paint, standing out were the words: FORGET IT NOTHING KILLS THE DEMONS.
"All Japan," he said to himself, to the ground that kept his feet steady, and walked on.
***********
His temperament changed when he met Kaidou Kaoru for an early evening match, at a street court halfway between their two schools. Kamio wasn't entirely sure what it was about meeting non-Fudoumine players, being somewhere far away from his home and his school, that lifted his mood.
He could have asked Momoshiro to come practice with him. And maybe a match with the big lug would've been educational. But for some reason the very thought of being around Momoshiro struck him as an aggravation; he couldn't stand that obnoxious behavior. Not tonight.
Kaidou Kaoru was formal, reserved. He'd accepted Kamio's invitation with a cordial "All right. I'll see you there" and this proved to be refreshing. He came to the appointed place on time, nodded civilly by way of greeting, and Kamio found the taciturnity refreshing too.
"So how are things over at Seigaku?"
Kaidou answered, "Pretty good."
"...Oh?"
"Yeah...some old guy donated a few tennis rackets to our high school tennis club. The sempai gave some to us."
"What brand? Any good?"
"Wilsons and a few Dunlop Titaniums[3], brand new. Really good."
Wilsons. Dunlop Titaniums. As a freshman, Kamio'd had to save up for weeks just to get that sort of gear. The Seigaku middle schoolers only had theirs handed to them.
And it didn't even seem like a big deal.
"Damn, practice should be fun with those, huh..."
A noncommittal grunt. "Ooishi-sempai's fired up. But Tezuka-sempai says it isn't in the rackets. It's in the players."
It was almost comforting to hear that. "Yeah...that's what Tachibana-san says, too."
***********
Kamio lost the game, 6-4. It was only when Kaidou left that he acknowledged he was thoroughly annoyed with himself.
He put off going home. Decided to practice by himself against the paint-stained street court wall, pouring his anger into his shots.
"What are you going to do?" Kaidou had asked. Kamio had been comfortable enough with him halfway through their match to tell him about the recent problem with Ishida.
He was smart enough to keep the Tachibana incident to himself. Even if it ate away at him that he couldn't tell anyone else. Maybe he would tell Shinji, sometime. Or Tachibana himself.
But not this Seigaku middle schooler, who didn't understand. Not even if Kamio felt he could be trusted with anything. His pride said entirely different things...
"I dunno," Kamio had replied, exasperated. "Get the bastards. Or at least that's what I want."
A grunt, and "Don't," made up the start of Kaidou's straight-out reply. He was honest, to the point of brutal; to Kamio, this was friendly enough. "The gang's obviously making trouble. It could be bad publicity for your school again if you confronted them. Your school's already been dishonored...a number of times."
Kamio still had strength left in his arm. He increased the power of his shots.
"I don't care about the school." He relived his own reply, mouthing the words, keeping the sound to himself.
He wasn't in the rhythm and he wasn't in the mood.
"I care about my team."
But he wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied with himself.
"I care about Tachibana-san."
It crossed his mind suddenly, as a passing fear...
"And I won't let dishonor come to anything I care about."
...that he would never stop.
The racket flew from his hand. For a second he'd been afraid he'd thrown it, that he'd been too angry. He didn't even realize his arm had become numb. It was a Dunlop XL -- he had saved up for it for weeks -- he had wanted it so bad it was a taste on his tongue --
It struck the paint-stained street court wall. Bounced with a dull CLANG, and fell to the ground with a graceless clatter. One would think something so expensive would at least have a nice sound as it struck something or fell...
Kamio stared down at the racket on the concrete, his left hand tightly holding his right upper arm. Disbelieving. He didn't pick it up. Instead he took those few dragging steps necessary to reach the wall. He set his back to the wall, its many words, then leaned his entire weight on his shoulders.
He didn't know how tired he was...how long did that match with Kaidou-san last? He was going to have to check his watch later...and he would have to remember to report to Tachibana-san...but it was a crucial time, and Tachibana-san didn't need shit like that...so he would have to tell him his counters have improved, even if he lost the game...
SORRY, said the wall right above his head, in a mocking, sickly green, with a sort of laughter that said it would outlive everything Kamio could throw.
(END)
****************************
[1] - a made-up gang name. akabuku = red suits. er...is this right? ^^;
[2] - 'kay, all i have is ONE tiny scan of the fudoumine club room from 20.5, and it shows there really IS a poster-type thing on the wall, and it's in ishida's hand. i can't read a single character on it. i'm pretending it says "ALL JAPAN" in one part, but corrections are very welcome.
[3] - dude, something actually related to tennis!! help!! how are rackets referred to? i know that with guitars, you say brand and model, but rackets -- ? (sweatdrops and weeps)
set before the regional matches and the rikkai faceoff. some notes at the end.
edit: eh? i can't unlock the post? O_o
edit edit: still can't unlock. bahaha IT'S A SIGN!!!
Graffiti
by MorphailEffect
He wasn't going to pass by the Fudoumine Middle School's detention hall on his way to the club room. Still, Kamio intended to drop by that hateful place. Such a sacrifice was called for today.
Sunset streamed through the corridor windows, lighting Kamio's path. The backdrop, if anyone was looking from the outside, was peeling, cracking white plaster. Some spray-painted writing. There was never a hallway without it, though most were isolated and fresh.
DOWN, said this one, in large red letters. It would be gone in a day or so, but something else would take its place.
The Fudoumine tennis club's captain, Tachibana Kippei, had taught his team to avoid the detention room like the plague. The last time Kamio set foot in that part of the school was a year ago, when the entire Fudoumine team was called in for "causing a huge scene, what the fuck were you boys THINKING?!?" and soiling their school's already soiled reputation.
They were given a warning that if a similar to-do occurred, all the members of the team were going to be expelled -- immediately. Without mercy. So they consciously steered clear of trouble.
Ironically enough, that got each individual member into even more trouble.
In front of the detention room were the rest of Kamio's team, save for their captain and Ishida Tetsu. Kamio's team was a bunch of middle school juniors in their black uniforms gathered near the door...standing, squatting or sitting, but all huddled under a silence too grim for their age.
They turned to look at Kamio as he approached. "Shinji told me about Tetsu," was his greeting to them.
"...Yeah," Mori Tatsunori said quietly. The air in the corridor was motionless, whispers carried. "We're going to wait for him until he gets out. Chances are those Akabuku [1] guys are still after him."
Kamio nodded. He would have suggested it, if the others hadn't decided on it already. "So how is he? Is he hurt?"
"Not too bad," Sakurai Masaya answered. "Take a look."
Kamio approached the door. The small circular glass window on it was above his eye level, built more for teachers than students; Kamio'd had to stand on tiptoe, but he was able to look in.
Ishida Tetsu, the tallest of the team, sat alone in the room. He was at the front row, hunched over the piece of paper he was writing on -- looking sleepless and very tired. A large purple swelling was clearly visible on his shaved and uncovered head.
"His bandana can hide it," Sakurai supplied helpfully. "And Tetsu says he can take it, he just didn't put a gauze on it or anything because he wanted to show everyone he didn't fight back..."
It must have been true: Ishida was strong enough to break a few bones if he had to. He could have avoided getting hurt altogether.
Kamio realized then that the Akabuku gang had become serious in targeting Tetsu. They were a small-time bunch of neighborhood bullies who had tried to recruit Tetsu as muscle for their more mischievous activities. Tetsu kept refusing to join, and lately they resorted to intimidation tactics. This was their first act of violence against him.
"How long's the sentence?" Kamio asked, still looking through the portal.
He waited for Ishida to acknowledge his presence, but even from where he was, he could see Ishida was too upset to pay attention to anything except how his pen moved on the paper.
"Three days, starting now," Ibu Shinji replied. "So I guess there's no practice this afternoon..." Or for the next two afternoons. If any one of them was in trouble, there was no afternoon practice. They would simply make up for lost time very early the next morning.
"We really need to practice for the regionals," Uchimura Kyousuke argued, in his meek, cracking voice. "We should stay after Ishida gets out, and ask for permission to use the court..."
"No," Kamio said firmly, shaking his head. "It's dangerous here after dark...'specially with the Akabuku gang hanging around. You guys have to go straight home." It was what Tachibana would have said. Kamio hoped it also came across as impressively.
"'YOU guys'?" Mori drew his eyebrows together. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ibu already knew, so he shot Sakurai a mild warning glare. All the same, Kamio replied, "It means I can't stay. Seigaku's Kaidou-san can only make it for a practice match today."
"Ah," Mori remarked sourly. "Well...lucky for you, isn't it?"
Ibu's glare turned into a poisoned look. "Shut up." Mori frowned, and said nothing more.
Kamio understood the tension hanging over this small group right now. If the Akabuku gang was after Tetsu, they could be after anyone who was protecting Tetsu.
He was not a little guilty for not cancelling his playdate with Seigaku's Kaidou Kaoru, even in light of the Ishida issue. He knew he needed to work on his counters. But he knew he looked like a coward, chickening out of a battle that was also his...
"Don't worry, Akira," Sakurai assured Kamio, forcing a smile. "Tachibana-san'll be with us. We'll be okay."
Kamio breathed a small sigh of relief. "I'll be with you guys tomorrow, I promise." Nodded gratefully to Sakurai. "Tell that to Tetsu, and tell him to hang tough. See you in the morning."
With that as farewell, he dashed off to the club room, without looking back.
***********
He was sure his team understood, and Mori was going to be okay with it soon. They knew Kamio was no tensai, like Ibu Shinji: he worked hard to refine his skills, to build endurance and speed. Now that the Regionals were approaching, he needed to train himself harder than ever. They all did.
Kamio Akira kept to his tasks and tried to stay out of trouble. He truly did. He was a nice, quiet, respectful boy.
But whenever a member of his team got hurt, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming need to gut the assailants with a jackknife and feed them their innards.
No one messed with his team.
ALL JAPAN [2], said the writing on the club room wall. It was in Ishida's strong hand, scrawled with a black marker. It had been there since the founding of the new club. And if the club members had any say in the matter, it would be the only permanent thing on the school walls. Kamio took a deep breath to calm himself down as he finished depositing his things in his designated shelf.
As he was walking away he noticed something in one of the other shelves. A note with large handwritten letters.
That's Tachibana-san's shelf...I wonder what...
He took out the note. On it were the words: You're dead.
Someone could only see up close that the ink wasn't black, but red. A deep, drying crimson.
Kamio couldn't recognize the handwriting. But that wasn't his concern. He suddenly realized the club room had been unlocked when he entered. He had taken it for granted that Tachibana hadn't passed by today, so he couldn't have left it unlocked...
Tachibana Kippei was currently at a meeting with Chiba-sensei, their titular club adviser -- a very young teacher who knew nothing about tennis, but who had sympathized with their plight for independence since the very beginning. And was always ready to lend his meager resources to the task of improving the club.
Tachibana would perhaps know who sent this note. Kamio knew it wasn't the first of its kind he had ever received.
But he should never be bothered with things like this. Not with an important leg of the tournament coming up.
Kamio casually crumpled the note in one hand and threw it in the overflowing wastebasket at the corner, right beneath the writing on the wall.
"Wretches," he said beneath his breath.
A lot of things happened in Fudoumine Middle School that didn't have a reason. It wasn't so much that the administrators didn't know, than that they didn't give a damn.
***********
Kamio carefully locked the club room door as he was stepping out. He calmly walked away from the club room, quietly walked out of the school.
He walked past the bus stop in front of the school. He walked past another bus stop. He kept on walking. He stopped when there were no more bus stops in sight.
Then he spun round, hit the nearest wall with his fist.
The wall was the side of an old, neglected building...one in a line of many old, neglected buildings. On it were a myriad of obscenities in neon paint, standing out were the words: FORGET IT NOTHING KILLS THE DEMONS.
"All Japan," he said to himself, to the ground that kept his feet steady, and walked on.
***********
His temperament changed when he met Kaidou Kaoru for an early evening match, at a street court halfway between their two schools. Kamio wasn't entirely sure what it was about meeting non-Fudoumine players, being somewhere far away from his home and his school, that lifted his mood.
He could have asked Momoshiro to come practice with him. And maybe a match with the big lug would've been educational. But for some reason the very thought of being around Momoshiro struck him as an aggravation; he couldn't stand that obnoxious behavior. Not tonight.
Kaidou Kaoru was formal, reserved. He'd accepted Kamio's invitation with a cordial "All right. I'll see you there" and this proved to be refreshing. He came to the appointed place on time, nodded civilly by way of greeting, and Kamio found the taciturnity refreshing too.
"So how are things over at Seigaku?"
Kaidou answered, "Pretty good."
"...Oh?"
"Yeah...some old guy donated a few tennis rackets to our high school tennis club. The sempai gave some to us."
"What brand? Any good?"
"Wilsons and a few Dunlop Titaniums[3], brand new. Really good."
Wilsons. Dunlop Titaniums. As a freshman, Kamio'd had to save up for weeks just to get that sort of gear. The Seigaku middle schoolers only had theirs handed to them.
And it didn't even seem like a big deal.
"Damn, practice should be fun with those, huh..."
A noncommittal grunt. "Ooishi-sempai's fired up. But Tezuka-sempai says it isn't in the rackets. It's in the players."
It was almost comforting to hear that. "Yeah...that's what Tachibana-san says, too."
***********
Kamio lost the game, 6-4. It was only when Kaidou left that he acknowledged he was thoroughly annoyed with himself.
He put off going home. Decided to practice by himself against the paint-stained street court wall, pouring his anger into his shots.
"What are you going to do?" Kaidou had asked. Kamio had been comfortable enough with him halfway through their match to tell him about the recent problem with Ishida.
He was smart enough to keep the Tachibana incident to himself. Even if it ate away at him that he couldn't tell anyone else. Maybe he would tell Shinji, sometime. Or Tachibana himself.
But not this Seigaku middle schooler, who didn't understand. Not even if Kamio felt he could be trusted with anything. His pride said entirely different things...
"I dunno," Kamio had replied, exasperated. "Get the bastards. Or at least that's what I want."
A grunt, and "Don't," made up the start of Kaidou's straight-out reply. He was honest, to the point of brutal; to Kamio, this was friendly enough. "The gang's obviously making trouble. It could be bad publicity for your school again if you confronted them. Your school's already been dishonored...a number of times."
Kamio still had strength left in his arm. He increased the power of his shots.
"I don't care about the school." He relived his own reply, mouthing the words, keeping the sound to himself.
He wasn't in the rhythm and he wasn't in the mood.
"I care about my team."
But he wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied with himself.
"I care about Tachibana-san."
It crossed his mind suddenly, as a passing fear...
"And I won't let dishonor come to anything I care about."
...that he would never stop.
The racket flew from his hand. For a second he'd been afraid he'd thrown it, that he'd been too angry. He didn't even realize his arm had become numb. It was a Dunlop XL -- he had saved up for it for weeks -- he had wanted it so bad it was a taste on his tongue --
It struck the paint-stained street court wall. Bounced with a dull CLANG, and fell to the ground with a graceless clatter. One would think something so expensive would at least have a nice sound as it struck something or fell...
Kamio stared down at the racket on the concrete, his left hand tightly holding his right upper arm. Disbelieving. He didn't pick it up. Instead he took those few dragging steps necessary to reach the wall. He set his back to the wall, its many words, then leaned his entire weight on his shoulders.
He didn't know how tired he was...how long did that match with Kaidou-san last? He was going to have to check his watch later...and he would have to remember to report to Tachibana-san...but it was a crucial time, and Tachibana-san didn't need shit like that...so he would have to tell him his counters have improved, even if he lost the game...
SORRY, said the wall right above his head, in a mocking, sickly green, with a sort of laughter that said it would outlive everything Kamio could throw.
(END)
****************************
[1] - a made-up gang name. akabuku = red suits. er...is this right? ^^;
[2] - 'kay, all i have is ONE tiny scan of the fudoumine club room from 20.5, and it shows there really IS a poster-type thing on the wall, and it's in ishida's hand. i can't read a single character on it. i'm pretending it says "ALL JAPAN" in one part, but corrections are very welcome.
[3] - dude, something actually related to tennis!! help!! how are rackets referred to? i know that with guitars, you say brand and model, but rackets -- ? (sweatdrops and weeps)