Title Course
Author Uozumi
Genre Drama/Romance
Rating PG-13
Disclaimer The characters and fandom contained belong to their respective creators and owners.
Summary She was just a stupid girl and he was just a dense boy. Well, when they were thirteen. An/Yûta.
Chapter One: Who are you talking about?
Notes The rating might go up farther down the road. I’m not sure yet. I’m also going to try to keep the actions and reasoning of the characters close to their ages.

Course
Chapter One: Who are you talking about?

An knew who he was immediately. From following her brother to his tournaments, she knew almost all of the local regulars by name, especially those who frequented the public tennis courts. The St. Rudolph second-year had just come from a match with some guy she did not recognize. Dressed in a blue polo shirt and shorts, he moved easier than usual, and had done better as well. An did not realize she was sitting by his tennis bag until the taller teenager came over and began rooting around in it.

“Dammit,” Yûta hissed under his breath. The only time he came out to the courts without Mizuki, he forgot his water bottle. “Dammit. Dammit…”

“Would you like some?”

The voice caught Yûta off guard. Looking to his left, he found a green water bottle just under his nose. An’s eyes held his gaze, her hair hanging limp in the summer heat. “Ah…” Yûta went to refuse, but she simply moved the bottle from side to side, showing it was still half full. “Thanks,” he managed and took it.

An shifted her brown eyes to the court. She knew she reeked of sweat from a match she played with the few girls at the courts. Yûta smelled better, but still sweat ran off him. Only tennis loonies were out on the court today despite the heat advisory in Tokyo. Mind drifting, she waited for her brother to finish his pick up match so they could go home.

Yûta tried not to drink the rest of the water. With as much will power as a thirteen-year-old could manage, he handed the bottle back to An. “Thanks,” he repeated, his mother’s stern voice ringing in his head. Handing it back, Yûta heard people approaching, raising an eyebrow when he recognized Fudiomine’s captain Tachibana and the rhythm junkie Kamio.

Tachibana took the bottle from his sister, gulping the rest of it down. He thought he had left half of it full, but maybe it was the heat playing with him. Kamio took his own water bottle from his bag and then paused. “Who are you?”

Yûta snapped back from his horror of sharing a bottle with Tachibana. “I’m Fuji Yûta.” At least the first thing out of Kamio’s mouth hadn’t been “You’re Fuji’s brother” or worse yet…

“Where’s Mizuki?”

Yûta was too tired and too dehydrated to snap at Kamio. It was always about his brother or Mizuki, it was never about himself.

“Kamio, you’re coming back with us, right?” An asked, sparing Yûta from an agonizing reply. The redhead shifted his focus to the short girl and nodded, putting his bag on his shoulder.

“Well, see you around,” Kamio said and with the trio departed from the street courts.

….

He could not believe he shared a water bottle with Tachibana. Not he wanted to share germs with that girl though. The indirect kiss scenario young girls obsess over did not enter Yûta’s mind, but he was already in circles about his trip to the courts.

“Did you see your brother today?” Mizuki asked. The pair was sitting down to supper in St. Rudolph’s cafeteria.

“No!” No one looked over at them over the outburst, though a few first-year students raised eyebrows. Yûta got out his chopsticks, muttering under his breath. Why was it always about his brother? Especially with Mizuki! Couldn’t Mizuki take the hint that Fuji hated him? It was like an obsessive dog who wants the bone on top of the refrigerator. He can jump all he wants, but the bone is not going to come to him.

“Did you lose?” Mizuki persisted. Yûta was in one of his moods that either came from losing all his games, running into his brother, or a combination of both.

“No,” Yûta replied. “Well...one game.” He had not been playing any serious players, but he had not been that serious about it either.

“Was it a bad loss?” Mizuki sipped at his water. He wanted details and names. He wanted to know why one game would set the other off like this.

“No, it was close.” Yûta poked at his food. Part of him wished Mizuki had been with him just so he could avoid the question game. He could feel Mizuki’s eyes watching him and he shifted in his seat. What did Mizuki want him to say? There was no way in hell the data collector was going to find out about the water bottle incident. He could only begin to imagine what would happen.

Feeling his cellphone vibrate on his hip, Yûta covertly opened it and looked at the screen under the table. He was not supposed to have it on him right now, but he forgot to take it off when he returned from the courts. Blinking, he stared at the message. He stared again, and then let out a tortured wail.

Mizuki reached under the table instantly and knocked Yûta’s cellphone across the floor just as one of the adults in charge of the cafeteria appeared.

“Hands on the table,” the man barked. Instantly he examined their hands and then their faces with a critical eye. They looked normal enough for them. Mizuki looked completely innocent and Yûta had a deer expression on his face. “You better not be doing something funny,” he stated and then walked away.

Mizuki sighed inwardly, Yûta waiting for the monitor to move far enough away before demanding, “What was that for?”

“Do you want to get caught with your cell?” Mizuki asked, twirling a lock of hair around his finger.

“Do you even know where it went?” Yûta went to look under the table but Mizuki stopped him.

If Yûta looked for the phone now, they might be found out. “What was that about?” Mizuki knew that it had to be from Yûta’s brother. No one else would make him twitch like that.

Yûta was not going to fuel Mizuki’s bizarre obsession with Shûsuke. Not one bit. “My battery died.” He also did not want to know how his brother knew about the water bottle incident. Or what possessed Shûsuke to ask if he was interested in Tachibana because he could easily set both of them up if Yûta wanted.

Wolfing down his food, Yûta noticed Mizuki drop his fork before returning with the fork and the cellphone in hand. “So, that’s why you’re so twitchy.” Mizuki reviewed the message twice over.

Yûta snatched up the phone and put it into his pocket. Feeling Mizuki studying him, Yûta stabbed his food with his chopsticks rather than picking it up. “What?”

“You and the captain of Fudomine would look really bad together,” Mizuki commented. “I don’t know what your brother sees.”

With that, Yûta stood up and marched off.

….

An’s mind drifted from the razor in her hands and the CD in the background. It was a bit mean giving her brother’s water bottle to Yûta, but hers was empty, and she was not going to give him Kamio’s bottle. That would have only incurred disaster and it was too hot to provoke her friend.

Her brother did not know and that was what was important. He was not obsessed with cleanliness or germs passing around, but somehow she doubted he would appreciate a boy sharing his water bottle. Now a few of the girls at school on the other hand…

“Will you turn your music down?”

Squeaking, An noticed her brother in the doorway. “When did you – ”

“If you didn’t have your music loud enough to wake the dead, you would have heard me come in,” Tachibana pointed out. He had entrance exams to study for! Didn’t his sister understand that?

Why did Kippei think he could just barge into her room like this? He could have knocked at least! Turning down Gackt to a dull roar, An eyed her brother. “Better?” He really shouldn’t tell her how loud to play her music. He wasn’t their dad after all.

“It’ll do,” her brother smirked, “hair legs.”

An threw her razor at him, watching it bounce off the closed door.

….

“Don’t you think Tachibana’s cute though?”

Yûta stared at the message. Ever since their parents put them on a plan that allowed free text messaging, his brother took it as a green light to harass him whenever he wanted.

“No! Tachibana is ugly!” Yûta texted back.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I didn’t know you swung that way. Though I did think the hair clips were cute.”

Swing what way? Yûta stared at his brother’s latest message. Hair clips?

“Tachibana doesn’t wear hairclips.”

“Yes, she does. I told you they’re cute.”

Yûta stared at the message again.

“Tachibana is a BOY, Aniki.”

“Oh you meant her brother?”

Yûta’s eyebrows wrinkled, making his x deform. Then it dawned on him. There was a girl with hairclips. She had given him the water even!

“Should I fix you up with him instead?”

“No! Don’t fix me up with ANYONE!”

With that, Yûta turned his phone off. So that was Tachibana’s sister. She did not look like him at all. Tossing his cellphone onto his bed, Yûta found his thought train sliding into a different circle.

….

So here he was at the street courts again. Yûta found girls just as troublesome as his brother, and did not have a clue why he came back here so soon.

“Come on, Yûta,” Mizuki stated, breaking his thoughts. “Let’s do some scouting.”

That’s right. Mizuki dragged him here. Yûta trudged up the steps behind Mizuki obediently. Hoping that nothing bizarre would happen like the Kaidoh incident, Yûta adjusted the strap of his bag. At least his brother had cram school tonight, which would minimize the chances he would show up.

Or not. Yûta felt Mizuki change their course, the upperclassman’s voice rising as he approached the tensai on the bench.

If Fuji saw Mizuki, it was anyone’s guess. Instead of acknowledging the pair heading towards him, the kitsune boy continued his conversation. “It’s not a bad school actually.” He did not shift his position when Mizuki’s shadow fell on him. “The tutor is strict, but he makes everything clearer.”

“Uh…” An’s eyes shifted to Mizuki. He looked about ready to scream. “I think…”

“Yûta!” Fuji stood up from the bench and brushed past Mizuki. “We were just talking about you!” He ignored both second-years’ looks of “‘We were?’”

An stared and Yûta tried not to step back as his brother approached. “Aniki, I think Mizuki wants to talk to you.” There. He would distract Shûsuke and hide somewhere.

“Who?” Fuji continued to ignore the taller third-year standing practically between them.

An’s eyes shifted between the three. She remembered this bizarre ritual from a few weeks before, but this time it looked on the verge of turning into something that would ruin the atmosphere of the courts. She did not think twice about walking in there and grabbing Yûta by the arm.

“Yûta, you promised me a game,” she said, pulling on him gently.

“I did?” Yûta blinked. He had only said thanks to her! How did that factor into a tennis game? And how did it factor into her calling him Yûta? Shouldn’t she call him Fuji?

An’s eyes narrowed. Trust him to be the dense type! Pulling him down so her lips were by his ear, she hissed, “Do you want them to keep fighting?” It was like dealing with her brother whenever Shinji tried to talk to Sakuno during breaks at tournaments!

Yûta was not sure what An was going on about. Mizuki and his brother always fought.

“Do you want to be stuck in the middle?” she rephrased.

Yûta’s eyes widened and then he said, “Yeah. Let’s go play a game,” and half-dragged An to an empty court.

….

“Sorry about being informal,” An said, walking back to their things. They had yet to see hide or hare of Mizuki and Fuji. Yûta was sure there was no way either of them had left.

“It’s okay,” Yûta murmured. He should be used to it. His brother was Fuji and he was always Yûta. He wanted to ask her why she was talking about him with his brother. What had Shûsuke said? He better not have said anything embarrassing! If An knew about the bank incident or the toyshop fiasco, he would think up revenge, but never follow through.

An slipped her racquet into her bag. She had lost all the games, but Yûta had not gone soft on her. Unlike the boys at Fudomine, the second-year either had no concept of chivalry or did not fear her brother.

“What did Aniki say?” Yûta asked, causing An to blink.

“Well, we talked about cram school,” she said, zipping up her tennis bag. “And the girls’ tennis teams.”

Yûta eyed her. Shûsuke had said they were talking about him! He wanted to know what she knew. Though, it was his brother so An was probably tell the truth, but that was not what was important right now!

“I’m glad we don’t have to take exams this year,” An changed the topic. She watched Yûta slip his bag over his head.

“Yeah.” Yûta did not understand why she was sticking around. Most people he played left to go home or go find another target. Walking down the steep steps, he watched her get ahead of him.

“I’m going this way,” An said and pointed to their left once they were at the bottom of the stairs.

“Ah…I’m going the other way,” Yûta lied. He had to escape. This was just getting too weird for his tastes. Girls never talked this much at him unless they were family, but that did not count.

“Okay. I’ll see you around.” An offered a wave and then disappeared down the sidewalk.

….

“So how is your girlfriend, Yûta?” Shûsuke asked calmly.

The taller boy almost choked on his food. Why he had decided to come home for summer vacation was beyond comprehension. His brother only smiled at him, and Yumiko handed him a glass of water. “I don’t have a girlfriend!” he squeaked out after a few gulps.

“Yûta,” their mother began, “you’re too young to have a girlfriend. You’re barely thirteen.”

He was not barely thirteen! He would be thirteen and a half soon. “I don’t have one.”

“Is she cute?” Yumiko asked with a grin.

“She is,” Shûsuke replied. “With hairclips, right Yûta?”

Why his brother was fixated on hairclips was beyond Yûta. “I don’t know her first name yet! How could we possibly be boyfriend and girlfriend. I don’t even like her!” Not that An was a terrible person, Yûta’s hormones had yet to catch up to his height.

“He’s in denial,” Yumiko decided, receiving a sage nod from Shûsuke. “What kind of hairclips?”

“Be quiet, both of you,” their mother scolded. “Yûta, you’re going to have to talk with your father after dinner.”

“What?!” This was all his siblings’ fault! If only they could just mind their own business!

“That’s right,” their father agreed. “We have a lot to talk about tonight.”

To be continued...