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sportsanime2017-05-28 06:52 pm
referees) wrote in sportsanime2017-05-28 06:52 pm
Entry tags:
Bonus Round 1: AUs
SASO 2017 is over, but this round is perpetually open to new fills (no new prompts).
Please read this whole post before commenting to ensure that your team gets the most points possible. (There are changes from last year!)
RULES
- Submit prompts by commenting to this post with an alternate universe idea, along with a ship from one of our nominated fandoms. There's a comment template below for your convenience.
- Your prompt MUST include some kind of relationship. (This is not the sports anime gen olympics.) Platonic relationships are indicated by an "&" between the names (e.g., Izumi & Sakaeguchi). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Izumi/Sakaeguchi). Please don't say "Any pairing," either!
- An AU can be a canon divergence, e.g. "what if [character] was the Team Captain instead of the canon captain character?", or a completely different setting altogether, e.g., pop idol AU, coffee shop AU, superheroes AU, etc.
- Fill prompts by leaving a responding comment to the prompt with your newly-created work.
- Remember to follow the general bonus round rules, outlined here.
FORMAT
Bonus round shenanigans all happen in the comments below. Brand-new works only, please.Required Work Minimums:
- 400 words (prose)
- 400px by 400px (art)
- 14 lines (poetry)
Format your comment in one of the following ways:
| If PROMPTING: | If FILLING: | If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant: |
PROMPT: TEAM [YOUR SHIP]
| FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING]
| FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING]
|
Posts not using this format will be understood to be unofficial discussion posts, regardless of what they contain. They, like all comments in this community, are subject to the code of conduct.
If you see anyone breaking the code of conduct (e.g., causing drama, being rude) anywhere (not just DW), please contact the mods immediately.
SCORING
These numbers apply to your team as a whole, not each individual teammate. Make as many prompts/fills as you want!For prompts: 5 points each (maximum of 50 prompt points per team per round)
For fills:First 4 fills by any member of your team: 20 points each
Fills 5-10: 15 points each
Fills 11-20: 5 points each
Fills 21-50: 2 points each
Fills 51+: 1 point each
All scored content must be created new for this round.
Etc.
If you're hunting through the prompts looking for what to fill, a good trick is to view top-level comments only (see the line of links below this post).Have a question? Check The FAQ first. If you still need help, feel free to contact the mods. Happy fanworking!
FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, T (Part 1 of 2)
Other Tags: swearing, self-loathing, flower language. I can't stress enough, I bumped this to a T because I think the body horror might be that intense. Specifically finger horror and eye horror. Also, this fic alludes vaguely to spoilers past where Yowamushi Pedal: NEW GENERATION is at time of writing (BUT NOT FOR LONG). Oh yeah, and Teshima Suffering. That's basically a trope, right.
Word Count: 3916
(WOW this got out of hand, but i loved the crap out of this prompt! i really hope i did you right by it!)
***
Hajime keeps glass jars full of corpses in his room.
On his dresser drawer, under his bed, lined in military rows on his windowsill. His mother thinks they’re to practice sketching, and it’s not entirely a lie. Sometimes, usually when he can’t sleep, he brings them to his bed and does his best to replicate them in graphite (or if he’s feeling particularly bold, ink). He knows the traditional method of preserving flowers is pressing, turning petals crisp and cardboard flat between pages. In a way, he thinks flicking through his sketchbooks, maybe this is also preserving flowers in paper.
Ultimately, though, he prefers his method. In their little glass homes, he can watch the slow change, watching their forms go dry and dehydrated, by all means dead, but still keeping their shape. It’s almost like fossilization. A history. Some days, he feels like a record keeper.
The first time he had seen Junta’s flowers was during a first year race. In a way, they had been almost literally riding a high- their previous race, they had finally pulled of their Synchronized Straight Twin for the first time, snatching first place at the last possible moment. The disbelief, the joy, Tadokoro’s strong hands on his back and Junta’s wide, sparkling smile from the crowd- everything had echoed in Hajime’s mind all through the race. He barely noticed the other riders.
He definitely didn’t notice he had pulled too far ahead.
Without Junta to act as springboard, he ran out of steam at the final push, falling from 1st to 3rd to 8th place. It was a bad enough downgrade from their last race, but he would have gladly traded every past and future first place for the look on Junta’s face when they finally found each other again.
“Tesh-”
“Jeez!” Junta’s bark of laughter was one of the saddest things Hajime had ever heard. “I had one job.” His smile looked like it was about to sag off his face. “You’d think I’d be able to do at least that much.”
Hajime’s throat had burned. But it was my fault.
“Jeez,” he said again, and his voice was a little more colorless that time. He flexed the hand with his marked glove. “Jeez. It’s bad enough when I mess up that badly on my own. Now I’m pulling you down with me.”
You aren’t pulling me down. “Y-”
Hajime’s tongue went dry.
“...You’re bleeding.”
“What?” Junta’s yelp of shock was actually a welcome trade-up from his broken laughter. “Where-?” He followed Aoyagi’s wide eyes to a spot on his forehead, fingertips swiping the thin rivulet of blood that ran to the edge of his eyebrow. “...ah.”
He chuckled again. “Yeah… it’d figure this would happen now.”
Junta had wiped the blood. He waited until after the winner’s ceremony, even after Tadokoro had pulled them aside to give warm words of advice and encouragement and pride, eyes flickering constantly back to the helmet still kept clamped tightly to Teshima’s curls. When they were finally alone, Junta led Hajime to the shadows of a clump of trees at the edge of the race grounds.
And he took off his helmet.
One, two, three rosebuds had pushed their way through Junta’s dark bangs . Two were beginning to unfurl bright red petals, only a shade deeper than the drops of blood that scattered as Junta shook his head. He pushed his fingers through his hair, and Hajime could see a coil of thorns curled around the shell of his ear.
Junta noticed the look on Hajime’s face and gave a lopsided smile, tossing his head like a shampoo model.
“What do you think? They bring out the color of my eyes, right?”
The third time it happened after a race- the third time Hajime caught it happening- he offered to help Junta trim them. He patiently waited through Junta’s one-man show detailing how he didn’t want to burden Hajime more than he already had, how it was probably nothing and he was just a “growing boy,” how he would have gone to a professional but wasn’t sure whether to jump for a doctor, a barber, or a gardener, and so on. When he finished, Hajime repeated his question with a tilt of his head and the reveal of a small pair of scissors. Junta had paused, then shrugged.
As it turned out, roses were the usual suspect. They were usually the most painful for Junta, as well as the easiest for Hajime to clip and preserve. Hajime sometimes stares as the roses alone, red and yellow drying into dirty velvet and crisp, browning parchment. He looks at the yellow ones sometimes and thinks about drawing miniature masterpieces on their petals.
But it isn’t always roses. One day after practice, soon after the disaster that was the 40th Inter High, Junta sheepishly showed Hajime a quite literal handful of small yellow blooms. They sprouted from under his fingernails, and Hajime had to carefully pluck them with a 500 yen pair of tweezers he found at the nearest convenience store. That first time, he held Junta’s thin wrist steady as he pruned his fingers, trying hard to not think about the movement of the delicate little bones beneath his skin.
“This is new,” Junta had commented, trying to keep his voice casual.
Hajime nodded.
“I mean… not that new. The fingernails thing is new. But I’ve actually been getting these guys for about a week now.” Junta scratched the back of his neck sheepishly with the other hand. “Really, I wouldn’t have bothered you with this if it wasn’t my writing hand.”
Hajime looked down at the small heap of sunshine colored flowers building up in his palm. Some were flecked with blood. “When did it start.”
“Ahh, well,” Junta’s eyes searched the club ceiling. “A week ago… a little longer than a week ago? I think it was right after Koga’s-”
Hajime’s hand slipped at the same time Junta’s voice cut off. The tip of the tweezers pushed into the tip of Junta’s thumb, and in the small commotion, between Junta’s gargled shout of pain and Hajime’s flustered apologies, they both forgot the broken rule. Unspokenly, they let it pass.
When Hajime left the clubroom, he noticed a tall, wide-shouldered silhouette against the setting sun staring at the bike rack. Kimitaka started, before offering Hajime a fleeting smile and half-nod before quickly spinning on his heel. Hajime felt words gather on his tongue, but remembered the feeling of metal piercing skin.
He watched Kimitaka’s retreating back in silence, thinking of the ziploc bag full of tiny blooms in his pocket.
The next day, Hajime bought a large book on identifying flowers. The little yellow blossoms were called rue, and according to a section labeled “the language of flowers” in the back, they were thought to represent regret.
As it turned out, rue was also at least somewhat toxic. Hajime had a pink rash in the center of his palm for days afterwards. Whenever he had to urge to scratch at it, he reached for the little jar of rue and sketched them, filling pages and pages with regret.
After their second training camp, Junta received a new addition to his ecosystem. It was a simple green plant with glossy leaves, often appearing from his ears or fingernails. There were no blooms, so Hajime couldn’t find them in his book, and it didn’t keep well, going brown and spotted within a week or so.
The weird plant actually smelled nice, but something about it unsettled Hajime in ways he couldn’t put into words. It was even more unsettling to find it collecting under Junta’s nails at least once
every week.
He made sure to clip the leaves as aggressively as he could.
“You’ve got a flower.” By third year, Hajime was a little more confident speaking up. He definitely wouldn’t have been confident enough to reach through the steam of the bath to fiddle with Junta’s hair in his second year.
“Eh? Are you gonna- OW.” Junta rubbed the spot where Hajime pulled. “Thanks.” He looked down at the offending flower. “Huh. It’s actually kind of pretty.” It was, in Hajime’s opinion. It was dainty and white, with six handsomely formed petals. It almost- “It almost looks like a star.”
“Asphodel.”
“Huh?” Junta looked up from under his mop of wet tresses, grinning wryly. “When’d you become an expert on flowers?”
Hajime twirled the flower between his fingers. He didn’t smile. “You’ve gotten this one before.”
Junta slumped over the edge of the tub, folding his arms. “Eh. When.”
“...last year. Training camp.”
“...Ah.”
Junta turned away from Hajime, sinking under the water until his face was practically hidden behind his knees.
“Well, I guess that makes it an anniversary present, huh?”
He shot another glance over his shoulder at the flower, before giving Hajime a wry smile.
“Save it. You can throw it on my grave when Koga kills me tomorrow.”
Hajime didn’t laugh. He looked at Junta’s dark hair spreading through the water like seaweed. Between the blue and violet hues, he picked out green. The mysterious leaves bobbed with the rest of him, encircling his scalp like a crown.
At the end of the first day of their first, their last, their only Interhigh, Hajime waits until the rest of the team finally leaves. He then waits even longer, until Kaburagi’s voice stops carrying back, before he re-enters the tent. Junta is still laying on the same bench where he was dragged in, still face down, hair still everywhere. He can already see the rosebuds behind his ears.
“Junta. Tell me where they’ve sprouted.”
He lifts his head a few inches, dull eyes finding Hajime’s face, and he wheezes a laugh. “It’s that obvious, huh.”
Roses, Hajime notes. Painful, but familiar. Safe. But as he comes closer, he sees something new: a stack of flowers near the base of Junta’s head, light lavender, almost triangular. It’s enough to make Hajime pause. He can’t remember ever seeing them, much less on Junta’s body. They’re vaguely like foxglove, but-
But, no, that’s not important. Hajime quickly saunters over to where he left his bag. He fishes his hand inside, and Junta stirs slightly. “Aoyagi...”
“Just give me a sec.” Hajime frowns. He usually kept the container for his tweezers and scissors in the outermost pocket, for quick access. He hesitates, then moves to the main pocket.
“Aoyagi.”
“I just need to get-” Hajime looks up at Junta, and immediately notices two things. Junta has stretched a hand weakly towards him, and there are flowers growing under his fingernails- ones he’s never seen before. Little white ones- not asphodel this time. Smaller, rounder, bunched together in clusters.
And they’re growing.
Hajime looks up to Junta’s head, and sure enough the roses are unfurling. The mysterious purple flowers are getting longer. Hajime’s stomach twists. This has never happened- why are they growing so fast? Why are there so many this time? He turns back to his bag, frantically pawing through the contents.
“Aoyagi.”
“I, I’ve got it,” Hajime’s voice cracks as he hunches over his bag, “I swear to god I brought scissors-”
“HAJIME.”
Hajime’s stomach goes ice cold in an instant. He turns, and Junta lifts his head.
For one frozen moment, Hajime thinks Junta’s eye is bleeding. But as Hajime’s vision adjusts to the tent’s dim light, he sees it’s merely- “merely” irritated, by the small cluster of green, glossy leaves that has begun to grow in the inner corner of his left eye.
He can’t move.
And despite the bright red veins standing out against his bulging eye, despite the tears pouring from his eyes, constantly twitching from every failed attempt to blink again the growth, Junta smiles, tight and strained.
“What… do you think? They bring… out the color… of my…”
His smile cracks.
“F… fuck me, this hurts.”
Hajime finally comes back to his body. “Junta!” He clops over, grabbing Junta’s face with as much care as he can in his spike of panic.
“Haha, Aoyagi, haha, Aoyagi take it out.”
“I, I will,” Hajime pulls his face close, gut going cold when he realizes that one leaf has folded backwards, half-stuck under Junta’s eyeball. “I’m going- it’s going to be okay-”
“Hahahaha Aoyagi take it out it hurts.”
“I will!” Hajime distantly regrets the force he uses to turn Junta clumsily to lie on his back. He leans over, golden hair brushing Junta’s sweating cheek. “I just-” His mouth goes dry as he halting reaches for Junta’s eye. “I just-” He has nothing to use but his bare hands. “I-”
“It hurts. It hurts.” Junta’s other eye is clenched tight and watering, a perverted parody of his usual trademark wink. “IthurtstakeitoutithurtstakeitoutTAKEITOUT”
“I don’t know what to do-!”
He hears the sound of fabric moving.
Still holding Junta’s face a breath’s distance from his, Hajime looks up. The open flap of the tent lets in a wall of sunlight, framing the two girls that stand in it mostly in shadow, one with short hair and narrow eyes, one with long hair and round eyes. Both with wide, wide eyes as they stare at Hajime standing over Junta as if he’s a sleeping princess.
Junta gasps. Tachibana sputters. Kanzaki, for once, has the decency to look embarrassed. “I- excuse us.” She lets the tent flap drop.
Hajime’s feet are moving before he’s aware. He shoves his way past the thick material of the tent’s fabric. “Manager!” He catches up to the two girls in an instant, and still burning with panic and adrenaline, he latches on to Kanzaki’s wrist.
“H-hey!” Behind his head Tachibana’s voice almost reaches a snarl. “Don’t just grab-!”
“He’s hurt,” Hajime manages to gasp. “He- Junta- I need- scissors. Do you have any.”
Kanzaki’s eyes go from shock to business in an instant. “The first aid kit,” she says, so smooth it actually makes Hajime feel a little calmer. “There’s a first aid kit by the cooler. It should have a pair of scissors for cutting medical tape.”
Right. Right, of course. He can use that for the strange white flowers on his fingers, maybe the flowers on his head, but- “I also need something more- delicate. Smaller, like tweezers?”
The desperation on his face must be enough to lessen the strangeness of his request. Kanzaki’s gaze goes firm. “I’ll find some.” And with a whip of her hair, she’s gone.
“What- Miki!” The other girl is after her in an instant. “What’s going on- don’t just run off-!”
Back in the tent, Hajime hears a hoarse yell of pain.
FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, T (Part 2 of 2)
He had noticed at the same time Tadokoro had, as he had brought Junta’s leg up to bandage it. “What the hell-” He brought his face as close as he could to the wound, eyes going wide, brow furrowing as he made out the shape of the flower through the blood. “What the HELL...”
Tadokoro set Junta down with a bizarre mix of speed and care. “I- I’ll be right back.” He turned for the door. “I- fuck, I’m going to go get-”
“Wait.” With a hiss of pain, Hajime got to his feet. “Tadokoro-san, wait-”
“D-don’t stand!” Tadokoro changed trajectories in an instant, reaching towards Hajime. “You’re still hurt, you need-!”
“I can do it.” Hajime’s hand shook as it supported his weight on the arm of his chair. “Please, Tadokoro-san, he doesn’t want anyone else to-”
“He needs a doctor! I have no idea what to do about this-!”
“I do. I just need scissors.”
Tadokoro’s mouth opened, but no sound came out for a moment. “I… has this happened before?”
Hajime looked at the ground.
In the pause, they both looked at Junta. He had barely moved from the slumped state Tadokoro left him in, but in their expectant silence, he lifted his head an inch. And for all the dried tears, he had a smile on his face. “Hey… don’t worry. Just pretend I’m not here.”
Tadokoro’s hands flexed at his sides. “I… shit.” He exhaled, low and long. “Wait five minutes.”
Thankfully, when he returned, all Tadokoro had brought was one of the tiniest pairs of scissors Hajime had ever seen. He sees the unspoken question on Hajime’s face. “Kinjou sews. He always brings a traveler’s kit on him.”
He held them out. They almost looked like a toy in his massive hand.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Aoyagi.”
Despite the wary words, Tadokoro’s eyes were trusting. It was almost enough for Hajime to forget his doubt.
Four days later, Hajime held up the drying flower in a jar while he flipped through his book. It had gone light pink from the blood, but he’s eventually able to find it in the pages. Asphodel. Named for the Asphodel Meadows from Greek mythology, a part of the Underworld where people who lived ordinary lives went after they died. “Bringing regret to the grave” in the language of flowers.
Hajime’s hands shake as he snips the flowers from Junta’s fingertips. The careful manicure is almost enough to distract him from Junta’s shivers and choked noises of pain. When he’s done, he moves to the back of Junta’s head, carefully pruning the mysterious lavender flowers section by section.
It can’t have been more than five minutes. Hajime never knew time could stretch this much when you weren’t on a bike. He clenches his hands in fists, then moves around to Junta’s face. His face is still slippery with sweat and tears. His eye is an even more alarming shade of red than before. He looks somewhere far past Hajime’s shoulder, barely moving.
Hajime doesn’t trust his clumsy fingers nearly enough to bring the scissors to Junta’s eye.
...but...
There’s a sudden rustle of fabric. “I have them!”
Kanzaki’s face is blotchy and red. Her hair is everywhere and perspiration is starting to soak through her shirt. But even through her wheezing, she’s triumphant. “Tweezers,” she pants, holding them out, “and scissors.” She holds out a pair larger than the one Hajime used on Junta’s fingers. “I figured… you’d need… something hardier for the roses.”
She noticed the roses? Hajime thinks distantly, almost numbly as he takes them. “How...where did...?”
“I asked… around.” In the middle of catching her breath, she manages a clumsy wink. “I can be… very persuasive!”
Hajime feels a wave of gratitude, but his thank yous are pushed aside as Junta laughs wheezily. “Demon blood…Tadokoro-san said… it was genetic.”
Hajime snaps back to business. “Manager, help me. I need you to-”
He swallows.
“I need you to hold Junta’s eye open.”
Kanzaki’s face goes pale when she finally sees the state of Junta’s face, eyes going wide and a hand flying to her mouth. But after a moment she just sets her gaze firm, straightening her shoulders. Carefully, she sets her thumb and pointer finger on opposite sides of Junta’s eye, like she’s helping him take out a contact.
Hajime kneels by Junta’s side, gently brushing a lock of hair out of his face. “It’s going to be alright, Junta.”
Junta’s laugh is more like a rasp of nails on glass. “Haha… well, obviously...” And despite everything, he gives Hajime a wink that feels far more tender than it should. “I’m in… the most capable hands I know.”
“LITERALLY-” The ragged voice makes all three of them jump. “THE FIRST THING YOU LEARN IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL-” Tachibana yanks the tent flap open, face gleaming and pink. “DON’T. RUN. WITH FUCKING SCISSORS.”
Thank god Hajime hadn’t started plucking yet.
Junta’s eye is still faintly pink by the time they get to the bath.
“Boy.” Junta laughs. They can hear Tachibana’s voice echoing faintly from somewhere else in the hotel. “Kanzaki’s girlfriend sure’s scary, huh.”
Despite everything still rolling in his mind, Hajime pauses at that. “They’re… dating?”
“Hmm.” Junta winks. “Are they?”
“I asked you. Why are you even winking.” The flatness of Hajime’s voice takes them both by surprise, and Hajime lets his mouth drop beneath the water’s surface.
“I… sorry.”
“No, I…” Hajime’s face feels hot. “It’s fine. Sorry.”
There’s only the gentle sound of swishing water as they bathe.
It takes a few minutes for Hajime to summon the nerve to look at Junta’s face. “J-”
He voice dies as Junta suddenly, almost elegantly, reaches into his damp hair and plucks a single green leaf.
“...what?” Junta looks from Hajime’s gaze to the leaf. “I- oh. It’s okay. It’s just the one.” He sets it on the edge of the bath, smiling almost sheepishly. “Ha. Maybe use it to cook something nice.”
“What?”
Junta laughs at the look on Hajime’s face. “It’s basil. It’s uh, an herb. You use it for cooking.”
“You… knew what it was?”
“Well, yeah. I’ve been reading as much as I could on plants ever since…” He trails off. “Well. As long as this has been happening. I know about a couple thousand plants by sight now. I’ve learned a bit of flower language too.”
Hajime can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Why would he assume he’d be the only one who knew anything about plants? It was Junta’s body.
“Roses, for passion,” Junta looks up at the ceiling, politely ignoring Hajime’s blush. “Gladiolus, for strength and moral integrity. Those were the purple ones. Basil, for hatred. Yarrow- those were the little white ones- those can be a declaration of war, but also signify healing-”
“Hatred?”
Junta trails off for a moment.
“... aha, well yeah.” He pushes a hand through his dark hair. “I mean, it makes sense. I told you about that Hakone climber, right? Mana-”
“Junta, this isn’t the first time you’ve grown basil.”
Junta isn’t looking at Hajime. He traces a hand on the water’s surface.
“You grow basil all the time- it’s probably the plant you grow most. Why… if you’re growing basil so much, what is it you hate?”
“It’s getting late,” and Junta stands with a fake yawn, reaching for his towel. “I want to go over everything with the others one last time before we go to bed-”
“Junta.” Hajime tries his best to keep his voice from shaking. “Who is- what is it you hate?”
Junta stays in place for a moment, the trickle of water falling from his body the only thing to break the silence.
And he laughs.
“Hajime.” He turns and gives a Hajime a lopsided smile, eyebrows quirked. “They’re plants. I think you’re reading a little too much into it.”
Hajime stays in the bath a few minutes after Junta leaves. He does nothing but stare at the lone basil leaf left on the floor.
Junta’s hand lays outstretched from the rest of his body, as if it was trying to reach for Hajime’s futon in his sleep. From his pointer finger sprouts a small, pale yellow flower, almost glowing white in the moonlight.
At first glance, it could be mistaken for a rose. But as Hajime slowly, slowly lifts it to his face, he sees it’s a camilia. Multiple meanings, he remembers from his book. In Japan, a yellow camellia typically means longing. But there’s several meanings assigned to it in Western circles. He only remembers one now:
My destiny is in your hands.
He gently kisses the flower.
Re: FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, T (Part 2 of 2)
Also I love your Aya.