(no subject)
Title: Baroque Monophony
Author: pyro_o
Theme: A Capella (one or more vocalists performing without an accompaniment)
Fandom: The Prince of Tennis (manga canon)
Warnings: PG. TeniPui technobabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own this fandom- it is the creation of Takeshi Konomi.
Summary: Fuji Syuusuke is one of those people. The kind of person who’s unassuming and innocent- until you turn around. And when Tezuka’s not looking- he’s never looking- Syuusuke’s solo is the brightest of them all.
There is a fairy tale told to each and every boy- they just don’t know it.
Syuusuke was told stories of brave men and strong women who bred the future of Japan; he grew up with the fiery tales told by his father as he’d collected them around the world. As soon as he could grip a racket properly, Fuji absorbed stories of Jimmy Connors, Pete Sampras and Ken Rosewall.
Seigaku’s history also boasted legends that Fuji felt obligated to learn, as if alumni had whispered their grandeur to him- and himself alone. Syuusuke knew of Nanjiro Echizen, the Samurai-like tennis warrior who had graduated Seigaku with the tempting promise of a Grand Slam win- or two. He remembered the old Captain; Yuudai Yamato, who’d led Fuji himself before Tezuka had begun to fill his shoes.
Fuji knows he’s not… Awesome.
Inui’s mind is much faster than his, as Kawamura’s determination outstrips even Momoshiro’s- and his own- fiery passion on the tennis courts. He knows that he isn’t perfectly suited for doubles like Oishi and Eiji, or as powerful as Kaidoh. He certainly doesn’t have the astounding prowess of Echizen, or…
Or Tezuka’s immeasurable talent.
It’s kind of scary, to see Tezuka in action on the tennis courts- because it makes Fuji itch for a racket in his own hands, to hit a Tsubame Gaeshi to counter the impossible hit that his captain makes against his hopeless opponent. It makes him want to tighten his laces and call out on the courts- “Tezuka. Let’s play.”
Because Syuusuke knows he’ll lose.
He feels insignificant, even when he hits the Hakugei or the Disappearing Serve that knocked down Jirou that day. The Tezuka Zone and the Zero-Degree Drop Shot can seal almost every move he can play. Of course- if those two fail, Tezuka can always have the Hyaku Ren Jitoku no Kiwami to fall back on.
Eiji- silly, brilliant Eiji- would probably suggest that Tezuka had eaten magnets, because he was drawn rather irresistibly to the stoic captain.
But Syuusuke couldn’t deny that the others who were drawn to Tezuka were talented, bright youths who illuminated Tezuka’s brilliance, too.
Hey… If I become a burden to the team… Remove me from the regulars.
If Fuji were a less patient young man, he would’ve abandoned all pretenses and thrown himself at Tezuka, with his hands clenched in the soft tennis shirt and cerulean eyes wide open. But he plays his game despite the score being something like 5-0, with it stuck at Tezuka’s match point. It’s really a bit one-sided, but Fuji will continue as long as there’s that glimmer of hope that Tezuka could look his way, and see the soft beauty that was more than his tennis.
Syuusuke was surrounded by these brilliant people almost every day. He played matches and earned a title that he didn’t understand. He just hopes for a split second- when Tezuka meets his eyes and tells him he’s worth something, instead of being alone in the dark.
Author: pyro_o
Theme: A Capella (one or more vocalists performing without an accompaniment)
Fandom: The Prince of Tennis (manga canon)
Warnings: PG. TeniPui technobabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own this fandom- it is the creation of Takeshi Konomi.
Summary: Fuji Syuusuke is one of those people. The kind of person who’s unassuming and innocent- until you turn around. And when Tezuka’s not looking- he’s never looking- Syuusuke’s solo is the brightest of them all.
There is a fairy tale told to each and every boy- they just don’t know it.
Syuusuke was told stories of brave men and strong women who bred the future of Japan; he grew up with the fiery tales told by his father as he’d collected them around the world. As soon as he could grip a racket properly, Fuji absorbed stories of Jimmy Connors, Pete Sampras and Ken Rosewall.
Seigaku’s history also boasted legends that Fuji felt obligated to learn, as if alumni had whispered their grandeur to him- and himself alone. Syuusuke knew of Nanjiro Echizen, the Samurai-like tennis warrior who had graduated Seigaku with the tempting promise of a Grand Slam win- or two. He remembered the old Captain; Yuudai Yamato, who’d led Fuji himself before Tezuka had begun to fill his shoes.
Fuji knows he’s not… Awesome.
Inui’s mind is much faster than his, as Kawamura’s determination outstrips even Momoshiro’s- and his own- fiery passion on the tennis courts. He knows that he isn’t perfectly suited for doubles like Oishi and Eiji, or as powerful as Kaidoh. He certainly doesn’t have the astounding prowess of Echizen, or…
Or Tezuka’s immeasurable talent.
It’s kind of scary, to see Tezuka in action on the tennis courts- because it makes Fuji itch for a racket in his own hands, to hit a Tsubame Gaeshi to counter the impossible hit that his captain makes against his hopeless opponent. It makes him want to tighten his laces and call out on the courts- “Tezuka. Let’s play.”
Because Syuusuke knows he’ll lose.
He feels insignificant, even when he hits the Hakugei or the Disappearing Serve that knocked down Jirou that day. The Tezuka Zone and the Zero-Degree Drop Shot can seal almost every move he can play. Of course- if those two fail, Tezuka can always have the Hyaku Ren Jitoku no Kiwami to fall back on.
Eiji- silly, brilliant Eiji- would probably suggest that Tezuka had eaten magnets, because he was drawn rather irresistibly to the stoic captain.
But Syuusuke couldn’t deny that the others who were drawn to Tezuka were talented, bright youths who illuminated Tezuka’s brilliance, too.
Hey… If I become a burden to the team… Remove me from the regulars.
If Fuji were a less patient young man, he would’ve abandoned all pretenses and thrown himself at Tezuka, with his hands clenched in the soft tennis shirt and cerulean eyes wide open. But he plays his game despite the score being something like 5-0, with it stuck at Tezuka’s match point. It’s really a bit one-sided, but Fuji will continue as long as there’s that glimmer of hope that Tezuka could look his way, and see the soft beauty that was more than his tennis.
Syuusuke was surrounded by these brilliant people almost every day. He played matches and earned a title that he didn’t understand. He just hopes for a split second- when Tezuka meets his eyes and tells him he’s worth something, instead of being alone in the dark.