Title: An: A Good Start
Fandom: Prince of Tennis: Fudomine Chuugaku
Characters: An, Kippei, Uchimura
Prompt: 001 - Beginnings
Word Count: 1954
Date finished: 04/27/2007
Rating: G
Summary: An's thoughts on the change her brother has gone through.
Author's Notes: It just seemed to work out best this way.
Disclaimer: Characters are owned by Konomi Takeshi, and whoever did the anime. At any rate, it's not me.

Tachibana An did not like the changes she'd seen in her brother. He'd stopped smiling at her - at anyone, really - and spent all of his free time in his room. He had a considerable amount, as he'd quit the tennis team as soon as he'd heard about Chitose's partial blindness.

She hoped this new move would help; a new area, new friends, a new school were all chances to start over.

But there didn't seem to be any new friends. He joined the philosophy club - which had to be boring - and she knew he felt cooped up because he'd walk home with her at a faster pace than she could comfortably talk at.

Unless, of course, he was just trying to avoid her questions.

She'd heard of the boy's tennis club, but she hadn't realized how bad it really was until one of the boys in her class, Uchimura Kyosuke, showed up with a deep purple bruise on his cheek one morning. Their sensei demanded an explanation, of course.

Uchimura's chin went up defiantly. "I got it from a senpai in the tennis club," he said with eyes narrowed.

"Then your coach will have taken care of it."

An didn't know if the teacher actually heard the boy's snort of disbelief, but she did, and she kept looking at him, brow furrowed, through the morning.

"You keep staring at me," he said flatly when they were released for lunch, stopping by her desk on his way out of the room.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It looks like it hurt."

To her surprise, he shrugged. "No more than any other," he said, and sauntered out, meeting up with another boy their year, who's name she didn't know - but he couldn't be missed. He was just… impossibly tall.

She didn't really think about it all that much until one of her classmates - one who, when she'd found out who An's brother was, had raved to her about how good-looking he was, and how smart, and how he sat next to her at the Philosophy club - pulled her aside before class one morning. "Where was your brother last night?" she demanded.

An stared at her. "What?" she asked, utterly confused.

"He wasn't at the club meeting; sensei was disappointed. So was I," she added, smoothing her skirt. An had never had the heart to tell her that Kippei simply wasn't interested in her; he wasn't interested in anything. Probably not even the philosophy club - certainly not enough to tell the rest of the family about it, no matter how much they asked at the dinner table.

"I don't know," An said. "I was at the tennis club. I didn't even know he skipped until you said something."

The girl huffed sulkily. "Well, fine," she said, and flounced off.

An rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. Maybe she would have to tell the other girl to back off.

But that Kippei had skipped his club - that was unlike him. Well, had been, she corrected herself as she sat down at her desk. She didn't think she knew him as well any more.

That situation was unacceptable, and she brooded on it for the rest of the day. Her performance on the courts left much to be desired, but she was a first year, so it didn't matter much.

Kippei was waiting for her, like he always did, looking foreboding, and started moving before she'd quite reached him.

But today, she'd had enough. She waited until they'd lost most of the crowd that went the same way they did, then trotted to catch up with her brother, grabbed his arm, and hauled backwards.

It nearly knocked them both down; he spun around to keep from falling and she lost her balance, staying on her feet only by gripping his sleeve as tightly as she could. "Slow down," she demanded when she was safely on her feet again. "You owe me an explanation."

He stared down at her with unreadable eyes, then turned to start walking again. She yanked backwards on his arm again. "I mean it, Kippei. I'm tired of walking home by myself."

"You don't."

His voice was dull, dry, dead. She nearly stamped her foot in frustration.

"I might as well, for all the conversation you hold," she snapped. "I have a question to ask you, and I want you to walk slow enough that you can hear me, and I can hear your answer."

He stared at her, and… was that a smile? Maybe? But he merely nodded, turned back toward home, and started walking again. Slower. More like he used to, before last spring. "I heard you skipped club yesterday."

His shoulders slumped. "How did you hear?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" she asked, almost too brightly. "There's a girl in my class who's also in your philosophy club. She's got a crush on you. She usually sits next to you."

He turned to stare at her. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"When have you given me the chance to tell you anything since we got here?" she asked innocently, and kept walking, determined not to look at him.

"So, what's the question?" he asked after a long pause.

"Where did you go?"

He hesitated. "I'd really rather not answer that."

"Why not?"

This pause was longer; she glanced up at him to see his eyes fixed on his feet. "Because I don't want you to get your hopes up."

"You went to see the tennis courts," she said, nearly before he'd finished speaking.

"Yes."

"One of the team is in my class," she said after a while of wracking her brain, trying to find something to talk to him about, anything to keep open this fragile line of communication. She missed talking to him about things! "He came to school one day last week with a really dark bruise on his face."

"Oh? Who is it?"

That was the tone of 'I'm asking because it's polite' - one of her least favorite.

"His name is Uchimura. He said it was one of the senpai on the tennis team."

And her brother flinched.

Too late, she realized what she'd said, and fell silent herself - but at least, she realized after nearly a block, she was still walking next to him, not running after to him, trying to keep up.

"Yeah," he said softly, three blocks after that. "The first years are really having a rough time of it."

"What kind of a rough time?" she asked. She'd never really paid attention to what was going on at the courts where the boys practiced; no one on the girls team did, and she'd done the same without question. Maybe it was time she looked over once in a while.

Kippei didn't answer for a long time. "They… aren't given many chances," he finally said.

"Oh." Because she knew he really didn't want to pursue that topic, she dropped it, too. And maybe they could talk like they used to, now.

The first time she looked over at the other set of courts, she froze, staring. Having a rough time of it, her thoughts echoed her brothers words incredulously. The rain of tennis balls aimed at the first years was not… rough, it was hell. More than one went down with a cry, even as they tried to pick the balls up that rained down around them.

"Don't watch," one of the older girls said softly, pulling her attention back to what she was doing. "Give them at least the dignity of not being seen."

But someone needed to see it, An protested in her mind. Someone needed to tell someone….

Only Uchimura had, last week, and the teacher had assumed the coach had taken care of it. Come to think of that, where was the coach? She turned to look again, spotting the man watching from a bench. At least the rain of balls had stopped. She turned back to her own practice, thoughts racing around her head.

No one tried to stop them. No one, but the first years in the club, who had no way of doing so. "How do they keep going back?" she wondered aloud.

"They're stubborn," another girl answered, this one a first year. "We intend to cheer them very loudly next year when they're old enough to be on the team and actually get somewhere."

If they do, An added silently, nodding her agreement. Because if someone doesn't change things, they might not be any better than their senpai by next year.

Sneaking another glance toward the boys courts, her heart stopped and she froze in utter disbelief.

Kippei was skipping club again. She was too far away to read his expression, but he looked - from the way he was standing, arms crossed over his chest - furious, like any minute he was going to step onto the court and go after every one of those black-clad boys. After a moment, though, he turned stiffly and walked away. She turned away as well.

She didn't mention that she'd seen him that day, even though they walked home together at a pace that would have allowed it. It wasn't so much that she wasn't curious - she was; she was dying of curiosity, in fact - but more that she didn't want to scare him off.

And he was still furious. That didn't help. She wondered what exactly had made him so angry, but she could see that he was thinking hard about something, brow furrowed and eyes more inward than on the sidewalk they seemed to be focused on.

So she was at least a little prepared when he met her at the front door the next morning with his school bag and his tennis bag. Still, she wasn't quite able to keep from staring at him, her jaw dropped slightly for a second. "Are… are you going to play again?" she asked, even though she hadn't meant to say anything.

"I'm thinking about it," he said, and his gaze on her was distant, still inward, as if trying to make a decision he didn't know he'd already made.

"Let's go," she said, more to keep him from thinking about the two bags he was carrying - if he wasn't already aware of it - rather than just one.

There was no question, though, that he didn't look so off-balance with the second bag on his shoulder, and An felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. That was a relief.

She didn't see what all happened, over the next couple of days, only that Uchimura walked into class one morning with an air of hope he hadn't had since he'd shown up with that bruise on his cheek. It took her absolutely no time whatsoever to decide to skip her own club practice and follow him to his that afternoon.

It was… illuminating. There they were, those six first years, on the run down courts behind the school, listening to her brother explain what he wanted for that day. She watched the whole practice, virtually unobserved. She knew Kippei had seen her, but didn't know about the others; they were so excited to actually learn something it was endearing.

She missed the fight the next day, but the repercussions were widespread. She walked home with a battered brother, who was actually smiling.

"What are you so happy about?" she asked quietly about halfway home.

"I think, maybe, this will help make up for what I did," he said softly. "And they need help. No one else was going to give it to them."

"And they'll help you, too," she responded cheerfully. "I'm glad to see you smile again."

He chuckled, one of the best sounds she'd heard in a long time. "Yeah," he said. "I think they will."

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