Summary: Collection of one-shots and AUs. Round 1: Walking 5 miles while carrying 126 pounds of deadweight was not Sendo Takeshi's idea of fun. Especially if said deadweight happened to be a passed-out drunk Russian boxer.

Pairings: Slight Sendo/Vorg? I see it more as a friendship/rival thing, but you can take it however you want.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hajime no Ippo or its characters. Otherwise Vorg and Ippo would be junior featherweights, Miyata would still be at Komogawa Gym, and Vorg would be at Osaka (Sendo's) Gym. Dream fanfic that will probably never be written.


"Stupid Yanoka-han."I say to no one in specific. The weight on my back shifts at the sound of my voice, then goes still again. 'An stupid Vorg fer gettin drunk off his ass.' It was late, probably around two in the morning; the streets deserted. I was pretty grateful for that; the last thing I needed was that damn group of kids coming up to me and asking something stupid.

Like the reason I was carrying a drunk Russian on my back at two in the morning.

I thought about it. Why was I doing this, anyway? I certainly didn't owe the guy anything. Hell, not after the one-sided beating he laid on me for how many rounds. It was just cause both of us had been so damn desperate to win the rematch with Makunouchi. …Damn Makunouchi, it was his fault. Well, at least I had won. Technically. …Well hang on, what the hell's up with that? My championship win, and I don't get it by KO? It doesn't feel like I'm a champ at all. Which is probably why I felt like I lost and Vorg won. Which is probably what led to me inviting him out for a few drinks after the match. Which then led to—

"Nggh…" A groan from the Russian lets me know he's finally –somewhat- conscious.

"Ya still alive, Vorg?" I ask. He doesn't respond for a good thirty seconds, and I was just about to give up when—

"What…" His Japanese is rough and slurred by his accent, courtesy of a rather impressive consumption of booze. He doesn't continue, and it takes me a minute to figure out that your second language probably isn't very easy to speak when you're highly intoxicated. Hell, if he was this bad now, then he was really going to hate life tomorrow. 'Well then.' I grinned mischievously.

"Payback fer beatin' the shit out of me in the corner."

Again, it takes him a while before he responds, "You—" He pauses, searching his incapacitated brain for the words. "You just—" He stops again, gritting his teeth in frustration. I just grin harder while trying not to laugh. And fail. A small snicker escapes me, which Vorg undoubtedly hears. He rapidly mutters something under his breath that I don't catch.

"You say somethin'?" I ask innocently.

He speaks again, louder this time, and I think it's just random gibberish at first –because, really, he did just drink two guys under the table- but after a moment, I realize he's speaking Russian. And pretty damn proficiently, from the sound of it. He starts to carry on a one-sided conversation with his imaginary friend named 'Shendo-sahn', who can apparently understand Russian. I bite my cheek, trying not to burst out laughing. Which is becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn't until I tasted blood that realization dawned on me. It said, 'Hey, Sendo, you really shouldn't be biting your cheek when the inside of you mouth is all cut up from a match!' –Yeah, thanks for the late warning.

"Shit," The curse leaves my lips instantly. Still about a mile away from Granny's, and no way to stop my mouth from bleeding. The taste sticks to your tongue for a while, even if you brush your teeth. It's disgusting, but in the current situation, I don't really have a choice. Vorg had gone quiet at my little outburst, and it wasn't until I felt his head on my shoulder that I noticed. He gets to sleep while I haul him five friggin' miles? To hell with that.

"Oi! No sleepin' on my back!" I growl.

A beat.

"Tired," he says simply.

"Ya think I'm not tired, moron?"

"Umm…" He starts intelligently, "No, because… Sh-Sendo-san is… Um…"

"I'm what?" He better damn well pick his next words carefully if he doesn't want to get dumped on the sidewalk and left there.

"Is, um… сильно." He says.

"…Haaah?" What was that? Russian again? News flash for you, Vorg: 'I can't speak Russian!'

"сильно." He repeats simply. Okay. Apparently he forgot he was in Japan, and –guess what- we speak Japanese. Isn't there some kind of… I dunno, limit to how out of it someone can be? 'Maybe I should take 'im to a hospital?' Vorg chuckles softly at something he apparently found amusing. '…Or maybe a mental institute.'

"Sendo-san is сильный тигр." He says. I couldn't really tell because of his accent, but I coulda swore he sounded… sad? Well, at least that was half Japanese. Looks like we're finally getting somewhere. Literally and figuratively. I was only a block away from Granny's.

"So hey," I start, "Granny's place ain't got any spare rooms, so yer gunna have t' bunk with me." I don't get a response by the time I'm to the sliding door.

"Oi." I start to let him down on one side so that I have a free hand to open the door with. It takes a second for it to register after his feet touch the ground, but he pushes off of my back and stands on his own. …Before promptly grabbing me for balance.

Wow, I don't think he's going back to Ottowa for a while.

"Yer in for one hell of a mornin', y'know that?" I mention casually, slinging his arm over my shoulder and half-carrying him inside. I trudge to my room, and –just for the hell of it- drop my hold on Vorg's arm. Ridiculously enough, he flails, but isn't in time to catch his balance. He makes a startled noise as he's about to go down, but I catch the back of his shirt before his face can get acquainted with the floor. He turns, sitting on the floor, and looks up at me 'Damn, his eyes are really blue…' And it's stupid, and maybe it's the way he's sitting, or maybe has something to do with the way he's looking at me right now, but he looks like a friggin' puppy.

And then, either because he saw the look on my face change, or because he was too drunk to even tell, he smiles like an idiot. Which really doesn't help the image I'm getting of a ridiculously cute red puppy with blue eyes. I stare at him for a minute longer. Oh yeah. Futons. Right. I should probably get those.

"Stay. Here." I say to him, turning to head toward the closet down the hall. I slip two futons out as quietly as possible, and head back to my room. Vorg, luckily, hasn't moved from the spot. Actually, he's made himself quite comfortable. Curled up on his side. Like –funny enough- a dog. 'Huh.' I dig through my dresser for a pair of pajama pants before chucking said pajamas across the room.

Vorg makes a startled noise when he jolts awake, the pajamas sliding off where they had landed on his face. He stared at them curiously, and glanced over at me.

"Ya don't have any other clothes, right? Then wear those." I said, walking over to the light switch.

"Ah-hai." He manages to respond. Amazingly, despite being too drunk to walk, he actually folds his clothes before he slips on the pajamas. Then I notice several really dark bruises on his stomach. Damn. Being pale skinned must make bruises show up more or something. Ifelt a little guilty for a second. The 'for a second' being because he wasn't going to be the only one with a hell of a headache in the morning. I switched out the lights and crawled under the covers, not quite literally passing out within a few seconds.


A/N: Soooo… My first fanfiction ever, and also my first Hajime No Ippo fanfic. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love the series, and I love the characters, because really, where else do you find Takamura humor, pissed off Russians, and a Naniwa Tigers all in one place?

P.S. – I love reviews, good, bad, and critiquing. Good are motivating. Bad let me know I still have room for improvement. And critiquing will make me write the next chapter –hopefully- better!