Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis nor do I own the characters used in this story.

Warning: Light swearing (I think, possibly, I don't know) and shonen-ai (AKA: light male/male).

Fate (feit), n.
1. The ultimate agency that predetermines the course of events.
2. The inevitable fortune that befalls a person or thing; destiny.
3. The end or final result.
4. A calamitous or unfavorable outcome or result; death, destruction, or downfall.

Hiyoshi was having an awful day. In fact, it was at the point where all he wanted to do was crawl under the covers of his twin-sized bed and sleep for the rest of his life. And he didn't want Prince Charming to come and wake him up or anything funky like that – he wanted to lie there and be left alone. Instead, he was walking through the university campus to find something to eat before tennis practice. Usually, when he was in a bad mood, he had three options:

A: Mukahi, his partner.
B: Ohtori, his best friend.
C: Sanada, his sensei.

Today, however, was not his lucky day, and he only had one option.

D: None of the above.

This was probably because of the itty bitty problems that seemed like crumbs compared to the rest of his day.

Conflict A: Mukahi was at his sister's wedding, which happened to be in the States.

Conflict B: Ohtori was studying marine biology, and one of his classes decided to take a trip to the ocean to go scuba diving. Hiyoshi was honestly glad that his best friend was following his dreams, but Hiyoshi wished he didn't need to follow them in a no-cell-phone-signal section of the Pacific Ocean.

Conflict C: The dojo was closed for the next two months while Sanada was away on his honeymoon. Once again, Hiyoshi was glad that his sensei was happy, but he'd be damned if he wasn't jealous. Sanada's only one year older than him, and he's found the love of his life. What's not to be jealous of?

If Hiyoshi believed in Fate, he would be sure to write a very well worded letter to Fate Inc. and demand compensation for life kicking him in the balls. He slept through most of his classes, sprained his wrist from tripping down the stairs when he had to rush out of his dorm because he overslept, and his teacher thought it would be fun to disassemble his phone to show the class a circuit board (he couldn't get it back together).

So there he was, walking through the fog and mist towards Starbucks, his poorly wrapped wrist shoved into the front of his old sweatshirt, his Hyotei tennis bag on his shoulder. Walking by a boy in fur-hooded coat, Hiyoshi took a deep breath, watching the white puff leave his mouth as he exhaled.

"Hey," a rough, cracked voice called out. "Hey," he said again, this time grabbing Hiyoshi's arm gently. Hiyoshi turned around.

"What?" Hiyoshi snapped. Talking was not something he wanted to do when he was freezing cold and in desperate need of food.

That's when Hiyoshi really looked at the boy. A white beanie covered his short, curly black hair, allowing ringlets to peak out. He was bundled up in a shiny black coat, fur-hood pulled over his beanie, but his cheeks and the tip of his nose were tinted a rosy pink from the cold, wet air. The most obvious thing about the boy, however, came to him last. In his hands was a cardboard sign with the words FREE HUGS written in black marker.

Hiysohi could have cried. Or laughed.

Before Hiyoshi could turn and walk off, the boy frowned, nodding towards Hiyoshi's tennis bag. "You went to Hyotei?" he asked. Hiyoshi just stared at the boy. The boy took his silence as a yes. "My school used to have a joke about Hyotei. Wanna hear it?"

The boy was either blind or simply didn't care that Hiyoshi wanted nothing more than to walk away and pretend their little run in never happened.

"Listen, you're kind of weird and I'm not so sure I want to talk to you, so I'm just going to go now," Hiyoshi said bluntly before turning and walking away.

"Wait. Hold on!" the boy called, matching Hiyoshi's speed to grab his hoodie. Hiyoshi stopped, his shoulders tensing when the boy walked in front of him. "Okay, I'm sorry. You're right. You just look really sad."

His expression was soft, and he pushed aside the few curls that were covering his green eyes.

"Aren't you cold?" Hiyoshi asked with a bit of a sigh.

He shrugged. "I can deal with it. I have to, anyway. Well, I don't have to, but unless I want to sing love songs to my sempai I sorta have to do this."


"I don't have any classes today anyways, and I really don't want to sing love songs to my sempai – he'd slap me so hard I'd probably go back to junior high and get slapped again for time traveling."

"So is this a one day thing? I haven't seen you before."

Hiyoshi was still in a pissy mood, but talking to his brat actually helped. Besides, he was killing time before he had to go to tennis practice.

"I've been doing this for a few weeks. The campus is huge." He looked around, as if to confirm his point. "If I stay in one spot, I'd miss a bunch of people."

"That makes sense." Hiyoshi looked down at the sign, then back up at the boy's pink face. "So how many hugs do you have to give to not sing love songs?"

"One hundred."


"But I do that almost every day. I've given sixty or something already," he said, shrugging. "I just keep lying and saying I've done, like, ten so I can keep giving them. I mean, hugs rock."

Hiyoshi moved his hand around in his pocket, searching for his phone, ignoring the pain in his wrist. "So you just sit out here all day?" Hiyoshi frowned, realizing his phone was with his teacher – he said he might be able to fix it. "What time is it?" he added before he could answer his previous question.

"Who doesn't need a hug?" He smiled, reaching into his pocket for his phone. "It's a little after ten."

"Crap," Hiyoshi mumbled, readjusting his tennis bag. "I have to get going. Practice."

"Okay, yeah, whatever. Hopefully I'll see ya soon."

Hiyosi nodded and headed off in the other direction. He was too far away to hear the boy tell him that he forgot his hug.


If Hiyoshi was upset before, he was miserable now. He ran half way across campus just for Atobe to tell him that practice was canceled. After a quick stop at Starbucks for some hot chocolate and long overdue muffin, he began to long, cold trek back to his dorm.

Jogging up some stairs, he dropped his muffin. He bent down to pick it up, and his tennis bag got caught on the railing and was followed by a large ripping sound. He groaned, standing up straight to exam his bag – it had a lovely hole in the side. Thankfully, it wasn't large enough for anything to fall out, but it was going to be a pain to fix.

Leaving his muffin, Hiyoshi shoved his now empty hand into his pocket, taking a long sip of his hot chocolate. He winced, spitting the scorching hot liquid to the side. He ordered hot chocolate, not molten lava. Quickening his pace, he blew on his drink.


Hiyoshi stopped mid step. He took in a deep breath, and then turned to see the green eyed boy rushing over to him, FREE HUGS sign in hand. He stopped in front of Hiyoshi, and then stared at his hot chocolate.

"Why is chocolate better than sex?" he asked, looking up at Hiyoshi, his expression completely serious. When Hiyoshi didn't answer, the boy took that as encouragement. "You can have chocolate in front of your mother and she won't yell."

Hiyoshi looked down at his cup, and then back at the boy. Was this boy mental?

"My mom's dead," he replied, continuing his walk to the dorms.

"Whoa, sorry, I wasn't expectin' that." Just like earlier, the boy caught up, tugging at his hoodie to keep him from walking. "Seriously?"

"No," Hiyoshi said, taking a quick sip of his hot chocolate. "I still think that you're really weird and really just want to get back to my dorm."

The boy laughed, brushing hair away from his eyes again. Hiyoshi frowned, realizing the boy's fingers were shaking. Hadn't he heard of gloves? Hiyoshi looked down at his Styrofoam cup, and then back at the boy.

"Here," Hiyoshi said with a sigh.

The boy took it, smiling. "Really?" Hiyoshi nodded. "Heck yeah, free hot chocolate!"

Hiyoshi walked off, and this time he did hear the boy shout that he forget his hug (again).


Hiyoshi swore loudly, banging on his dorm door. He had left his key somewhere. He wasn't sure where, but he was locked outside, and he knew for a fact that everyone in his dorm had class or work this time of day. Finally, he decided to give up on the door (it obviously wasn't going to magically unlock), and turned around, heading for the other side of campus to go to the library. If he was locked out, he might as well do something productive.

He made a quick stop at the university book store, and when he came out, it seemed colder. Wishing he had his practice pants, he breathed into his hands twice before stuffing them into his front pocket. And, as if Fate hadn't laughed at him enough, the path to the library was blocked, so Hiyoshi had to cut across the court yard which meant –

"Hey!" the boy yelled, rushing over. "You know, you seem sadder every time I see you."

"It's not my day," Hiyoshi mumbled.

The boy tilted his head, and then laughed at Hiyoshi's stern expression. "You need to smile or else your face will freeze like that."

"In this weather, it just might." And for the first time that day, Hiyoshi smiled.

"You're kinda cute when you smile."

The boy gave Hiyoshi a lopsided grin that made him go weak at the knees. Hiyoshi, for some random reason, remembered something. He pulled a hand out of his front pocket, pulling out a pair of fuzzy, pink gloves. "They only had pink," he said, handing them to the boy.

The boy set his sign down, grabbed the gloves, and then stared at them. "These are fuzzy. Fuzzy things rock. How expensive were these?"

"Does it matter?" Hiyoshi asked, putting his hand back in his pocket.

The boy 'eh'ed, tearing off the tag and slipping them on his hands. He closed his eyes and let out a blissful sigh. "I love you."

"You're really weird."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Come 'ere."




The boy took a step forward, wrapping Hiyoshi in his arms. Hiyoshi pulled his hands out of his pocket, gently grabbing the boy's hips, pressing their bodies even closer. Once their bodies were flush, the boy pulled his head back, his arms still around Hiyoshi's torso, and gently pressed his lips up against Hiyoshi's. The boy's lips were chapped, and Hiyoshi felt like he was kissing a brick wall, but it was warm, and he was happy for the first time all day.

The boy smiled, pulling back. "See? Hugs rock."

Hiyoshi smiled back. "And apparently kisses do, too."

"Of course." The boy stuck his neck out, pecking Hiyoshi's lips quickly.

Hiyoshi turned red. He hoped the boy would think his cheeks were red because he was cold, but the smile that spread across the green-eyed boy's lips said otherwise. "You know," the boy said, his voice light and teasing, "you should feel lucky."


The boy nodded. "Yeah. I don't kiss every person I hug – that would make me a slut."

"Only sluts kiss people they don't know."

The boy gave Hiyoshi a flirty grin. "Then why don't you tell me your name?"

Hiyoshi hummed, studying the boy for a moment. It was probably the freezing temperatures, or maybe it was that boy's child-like smile – whatever it was, Hiyoshi was beginning to think that Fate might not hate him after all.

"Hiyoshi Wakashi," he said, deciding he had nothing better to do than make small talk with a free-hug-giving-kissing-weirdo in freezing temperatures.

The boy's green eyes went impossibly wide. "Holy crap. Hiyoshi?" the boy asked. Hiyoshi nodded. The boy squinted, and then his green eyes went wide again. "It is you!"

"And you are?"

"Kirihara Akaya!"

Hiyoshi walked way for the third time that day.

"Wait! I still owe you hugs!"

He was wrong. Fate hated him. A lot.

A/N: Because I feel like the world is against me and I've never written Hiyoshi/Akaya.