Prince of Tennis: butterflies
Title: butterflies
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters/Pairings: Kirihara, Yukimura
Genre: Gen
Notes: Because I had no idea that Yukimura and Kirihara were the two youngest on the team until
reposoir told me so. ^^
The late May breeze wafts through the classroom window, sweet and warm. It’s a lovely, mild day -- the sort of day when people yearn to be outside. The sort of day that makes all the flowers blossom. The sort of day that produces butterflies, just like the one that Kirihara is watching as it flutters all about the classroom.
He and Yukimura-buchou sit side-by-side in one of the empty rooms in RikkaiDai Junior High School, silent and working hard. Or at least Yukimura is working hard, doing a stack of paperwork that could have been done by a coach if they’d had one.
Kirihara is just there to keep him company. Sanada-san made him, while he and Yanagi-senpai were out running errands. Not that Akaya really needed much convincing, because he likes Yukimura-buchou and he doesn’t mind staying with him. (And not that Yukimura-buchou really needs company. That's just Sanada-san being weird again.)
It’s just been sort of boring so far.
His eyes follow the butterfly as it alights on the blackboard eraser, walking delicately from one end to the other, then hopping down to the chalk.
Butterflies are sort of nice. Pretty. Fragile. But are they really fragile? Kirihara doesn’t know; he’s never studied butterflies for very long. He’s never even seen a dead butterfly before, like the ones that they always show in movies or anime, with the pins stuck in them.
"Ne, buchou," he finally says into the silence.
"Mm?" Yukimura’s pen makes no noise as it traces kanji onto the paper. The butterfly takes flight again.
"...You’re not so much older than me."
Akaya dares a glance at his buchou out of the corner of his eye, and sees the smile deepening at the edge of Yukimura’s mouth.
"I’m not," he acknowledges.
Kirihara frowns a little. The butterfly hovers by the fluorescent lights, and Akaya hopes that the butterfly doesn’t get zapped. He’s seen that happen to moths -- but then, moths are stupid, and butterflies might not be.
Akaya sighs a little and lays his head down, onto his arms.
"...I wish you weren’t my senpai," he murmurs at length, and this time Yukimura looks up, and leans his cheek into the palm of his hand -- the right hand, the one with the pen in it.
"Do you?" he asks, smiling, amused, feline.
Akaya hums his affirmation, still watching the butterfly’s perilous path about the lights.
"Why?"
Kirihara shrugs a little. "'Cause. I’m gonna be all alone. After you retire, I mean."
"You aren't. You’ll have your year-mates and your cute little kouhai."
Another shrug. Kirihara doesn’t say anything else.
The butterfly seems to take interest in the teacher’s desk, and hovers over to that. Akaya smiles triumphantly (which is odd - what does he have to be triumphant about?), and Yukimura watches Akaya.
"You’d hate me if we were in the same year," he says finally, and Akaya’s eyes snap to him.
"Would not!" he replies indignantly, his head coming up, off his arms. "I couldn’t hate you."
"Well," Yukimura begins, with an odd, challenging glint in his eyes. "You wouldn’t be buchou."
Kirihara lays his head back into his arms and mumbles, "Wouldn’t mind."
The glint disappears from Yukimura’s eyes, suddenly replaced by something softer.
"Akaya..."
"We’d have a shot at Nationals. And Yanagi-senpai and Sanada-fukubuchou would’ve been able to manage. And -- "
"Akaya."
There is silence as Akaya observes the butterfly walk the length of the teacher’s pencil, then flutter to the first desk of the first row.
"Yeah. Well."
Yukimura watches Akaya for a little more, then turns back to his paperwork.
It can wait another day, he knows, so he stands and tucks the papers under his arm.
"Akaya."
"Oh. You’re go -- "
"Yakiniku or sushi?"
"Uh -- What?"
Yukimura smiles patiently, warmly. "Do you want yakiniku or sushi? I’m treating."
"...What about Sanada-san and Yanagi-senpai?" They’ll be back soon, and they won’t know where Yukimura-buchou’s got to, and they might --
"They’ll manage without me," buchou says, and his grin turns mischievous, secretive. Kirihara smiles back, rather helplessly, as he rises from his seat.
"Well. If you say so... Can we have yakiniku, then? ‘Cause there’s this new place, right, and -- "
"The one on the corner of...?"
"Aa! That one, that one! Nakajo said it was awesome and..."
The door slides shut behind them.
The butterfly flutters about aimlessly for a few more seconds, then disappears out the window.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters/Pairings: Kirihara, Yukimura
Genre: Gen
Notes: Because I had no idea that Yukimura and Kirihara were the two youngest on the team until
reposoir told me so. ^^
The late May breeze wafts through the classroom window, sweet and warm. It’s a lovely, mild day -- the sort of day when people yearn to be outside. The sort of day that makes all the flowers blossom. The sort of day that produces butterflies, just like the one that Kirihara is watching as it flutters all about the classroom.
He and Yukimura-buchou sit side-by-side in one of the empty rooms in RikkaiDai Junior High School, silent and working hard. Or at least Yukimura is working hard, doing a stack of paperwork that could have been done by a coach if they’d had one.
Kirihara is just there to keep him company. Sanada-san made him, while he and Yanagi-senpai were out running errands. Not that Akaya really needed much convincing, because he likes Yukimura-buchou and he doesn’t mind staying with him. (And not that Yukimura-buchou really needs company. That's just Sanada-san being weird again.)
It’s just been sort of boring so far.
His eyes follow the butterfly as it alights on the blackboard eraser, walking delicately from one end to the other, then hopping down to the chalk.
Butterflies are sort of nice. Pretty. Fragile. But are they really fragile? Kirihara doesn’t know; he’s never studied butterflies for very long. He’s never even seen a dead butterfly before, like the ones that they always show in movies or anime, with the pins stuck in them.
"Ne, buchou," he finally says into the silence.
"Mm?" Yukimura’s pen makes no noise as it traces kanji onto the paper. The butterfly takes flight again.
"...You’re not so much older than me."
Akaya dares a glance at his buchou out of the corner of his eye, and sees the smile deepening at the edge of Yukimura’s mouth.
"I’m not," he acknowledges.
Kirihara frowns a little. The butterfly hovers by the fluorescent lights, and Akaya hopes that the butterfly doesn’t get zapped. He’s seen that happen to moths -- but then, moths are stupid, and butterflies might not be.
Akaya sighs a little and lays his head down, onto his arms.
"...I wish you weren’t my senpai," he murmurs at length, and this time Yukimura looks up, and leans his cheek into the palm of his hand -- the right hand, the one with the pen in it.
"Do you?" he asks, smiling, amused, feline.
Akaya hums his affirmation, still watching the butterfly’s perilous path about the lights.
"Why?"
Kirihara shrugs a little. "'Cause. I’m gonna be all alone. After you retire, I mean."
"You aren't. You’ll have your year-mates and your cute little kouhai."
Another shrug. Kirihara doesn’t say anything else.
The butterfly seems to take interest in the teacher’s desk, and hovers over to that. Akaya smiles triumphantly (which is odd - what does he have to be triumphant about?), and Yukimura watches Akaya.
"You’d hate me if we were in the same year," he says finally, and Akaya’s eyes snap to him.
"Would not!" he replies indignantly, his head coming up, off his arms. "I couldn’t hate you."
"Well," Yukimura begins, with an odd, challenging glint in his eyes. "You wouldn’t be buchou."
Kirihara lays his head back into his arms and mumbles, "Wouldn’t mind."
The glint disappears from Yukimura’s eyes, suddenly replaced by something softer.
"Akaya..."
"We’d have a shot at Nationals. And Yanagi-senpai and Sanada-fukubuchou would’ve been able to manage. And -- "
"Akaya."
There is silence as Akaya observes the butterfly walk the length of the teacher’s pencil, then flutter to the first desk of the first row.
"Yeah. Well."
Yukimura watches Akaya for a little more, then turns back to his paperwork.
It can wait another day, he knows, so he stands and tucks the papers under his arm.
"Akaya."
"Oh. You’re go -- "
"Yakiniku or sushi?"
"Uh -- What?"
Yukimura smiles patiently, warmly. "Do you want yakiniku or sushi? I’m treating."
"...What about Sanada-san and Yanagi-senpai?" They’ll be back soon, and they won’t know where Yukimura-buchou’s got to, and they might --
"They’ll manage without me," buchou says, and his grin turns mischievous, secretive. Kirihara smiles back, rather helplessly, as he rises from his seat.
"Well. If you say so... Can we have yakiniku, then? ‘Cause there’s this new place, right, and -- "
"The one on the corner of...?"
"Aa! That one, that one! Nakajo said it was awesome and..."
The door slides shut behind them.
The butterfly flutters about aimlessly for a few more seconds, then disappears out the window.