Fic: Fujinui (pot)
After watching lots and lots of pot, I ship probably tens of couples, which is weird. But the weirdest part is that one of the couples that intrigued me the most has virtually no fiction written for it.
So, naturally, I wrote fic for it.
Pairing: Inui/Fuji
Spoilers: barely none
Rating: G
Title: Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Even when probability was low of gathering Fuji’s data, Inui still came to see every one of his games. So far his weaknesses had escaped Inui’s vigilant spectacles, but data was data and always useful. There was a 1% chance he could find the complicated pattern that would decipher Seigaku’s prodigy if he kept it up.
Inui’s role in this friendly tournament had been crucial. He had arranged the order of the players, as well as informed them of their opponents’ weaknesses and strengths.
Seigaku had so far only one win, thanks to Kawamura’s single. Inui’s Over-the-top Energizing Drink explained both games lost by the Inui-Momo pair and the Golden Pair. The mixture of the player’s boasting stamina and the juice’s effect had resulted in their over-exertion by the middle of the game. Inui had already scribbled down the modified quantities of the ingredients, as well as Momo’s decrease of 23% tolerance for his juice.
Inui settled close to the court for Kaidoh’s single match. He had had his eyes on him ever since he lost his spot as a regular against him. Kaidoh managed to improve his tennis at outstandingly high rates. His tenacity paired up with the menu prepared by Inui had turned him into a strong player indeed.
That’s why four games into the set, it was disconcerting to see Kaidoh unable to score once. Inui examined Kaidoh’s body up close. The muscles in his legs and arms were as tense as his racket’s strings. Kaidoh was clutching the handle so hard his knuckles had turned white.
“Kaidoh is in a lot of stress. He needs to release it,” he said to the onlookers at large.
“So you have noticed too,” said Fuji in concern.
“Kachiro,” called Inui. “Please go fetch Momo from the infirmary. Make it quick.”
“H-hai!” The first year trio left running. Fuji, at his side, was smirking in his off-handed way.
“Your thoughts too?” Inui asked him. It was almost useless to ask these days, since both seemed to always be thinking similarly.
“Let’s see if we can make this match interesting,” Fuji nodded.
Momo arrived at the end of the game, held up by Kantou and Kachiro, with Horio in the lead. He still looked green in the face, and his eyelids were saggy, but you could see the determination in his eyes.
“Mamushi!” he roared. “What the hell are you playing at?”
The change in Kaidoh’s structure was immediate. His fists unclenched to half their clutch, his usual harsh face became alive with fury. He looked at Momoshiro straight in the eye and reeled. Every part of his body responded fiercely to his presence. It was intoxicating. Or Inui calculated that’s how it should feel to be looked at like that.
“Who asked you, baka? You better shut your mouth during a match!” Kaidoh must repress a lot of anger to sound this guttural when he is allowed to. Momo is surely a comforting assurance of stress release for him. He had to ponder if it was possible for Inui to simulate this kind of scenario with Kaidoh.
“I don’t need your permission to tell you when you suck!” Momo informed him angrily.
“What did you just say?” Kaidoh seethed.
“Are you deaf too? I said you suck!”
Kaidoh bolted towards Momo and stopped centimeters in front of him, the green wire surrounding the court the only division standing between them. They glared at each other unapologetically long. The heat was palpable.
“If you’ve got something to prove to me,” Momo finally murmured dangerously, “better do it on the court.” They sealed their vow with a shared grimace and both departed in different directions. He sometimes wished he could be part of that kind of passion.
“You felt it too,” stated Fuji with usual perfect timing and accuracy. “Such intensity is meant to be longed for.”
“One should not wish for what’s impossible to get,” said Inui simply, more to himself than Fuji.
“Hmm...” Fuji smiled. “Reality has its playful ways of proving data wrong.” He turned his face towards the courts. “Take Kaidoh. Against disfavourable odds, he will win us a set.”
As easily as Fuji said it, Kaidoh did, 7-6. Once he escaped the congratulations of his peers, Inui saw him walk to the shadow of a tree where Momo was sleeping. He sat on his calves, took off his bandana now stained with sweat, and shook his head viciously, sending droplets all over Momo’s placid-looking face. It drew a scowl when he woke up, startled, and soon they were both being rude to each other all over again. Inui knew it was not right to envy Momo like this. Even so, he could not will his face to turn away.
“Inui,” came Fuji’s voice from behind. He turned to look at him. There was a playful air in Fuji’s smile. “There is still one more game to watch”. He entered the court, racket in hand.
Fuji looked serene after the handshake. It was strange for him to demand attention the way he had just done from Inui, and the most probable reason was worry about his opponent. The day before they had gone over Inui’s notes on Shibata. He was to be taken seriously, but data showed it was not beyond Fuji to win. Of course, there was the inescapable fact that data on Fuji was never reliable.
The first two games were won by Fuji without problem. In the third game, Shibata’s special shot, not recorded by Inui, took Fuji by surprise. A please smile crept to his lips as he finally got ready to play seriously.
Fuji opened his eyes wide. It was a rare treat to see the depth of Fuji’s blue eyes, but it was unprecedented that they would be looking straight at Inui. He was taken aback. Such intensity... He felt it shake his shoulders as a shiver traveled down his spine -exactly how he speculated it could. He had seen it in Kaidoh when he was confronting Momo. But coming from himself because of Fuji’s glance...
Inui began losing focus with every ball sent by Fuji, he felt like he got deeper into the game, as if he were a part of it instead of just an observer. He caught Fuji’s gaze in between serves, penetrating him, inviting him to get even closer.
Fuji had such precision and grace it was beyond Inui to understand it. Watching Fuji play meant putting his data-gathering in stand-by; it was useless, as it was not consistent even throughout one single match. It bothered him mildly to be almost certain that he could never understand this kind of power, no matter how many times he watched. Still, he held on the one most valuable fact he’d learned in Seigaku: data could always be overcome.
As the ball soared through the air and bounced on Fuji’s racket, Inui realized there was no other player that he could watch this freely. Because he didn’t have to gather data, all Inui had left to do was watch closely and enjoy it. And today, of all days, it was impossible not to. Fuji was enveloping his whole attention on that drive, that drop shot, that tsubame-gaeshi.
He couldn’t remove his gaze from his tennis - graceful, sharp, and unpredictable. Inexplicably, he felt like every swing came from his own arm, like he owned that instinct he could not understand. But suddenly it was like someone turned a light on, because he realized it could never be understood, and only known. Inui may not be able to ever know this kind of tennis, but today Fuji had let him in his play, with his gaze let him feel how it was like to be Fuji Syuusuke, Seigaku’s prodigy. That was enough to leave Inui breathless.
He heard someone call him and it took a great deal of concentration to bring himself back. He had stared at Fuji from the final handshake over the net, all the way outside of the court and into the crows that was congratulating his effort. Inui was too overwhelmed to say anything.
Fuji separated from the rest and walked straight to him. His every step weighed on Inui’s body. His senses had never been this tuned in on one person. It felt like the world had gone black and there was only the fulminating presence of Fuji.
“Inui,” he said in that soft tone. “Thank you for playing with me.”
“Aa--” Inui muttered clumsily, and Fuji chuckled. “Fuji...” Why could he only draw a blank? He focused and tried to put some sense into his words. “I’d like to play with you again, if it’s at all possible.”
“You can always play with me, Inui,” Fuji said pleasantly. He looked over at where Kaidoh and Momo were still glaring and being nasty to each other. “Just don’t forget there is always one more game to watch.”
Inui nodded, but there was something else tugging at his mind. “May I ask for the reason why you are giving me this?”
“I’m not giving it to you,” Fuji smiled mysteriously. “It was always there. You just learned how to take it with your own hand.” He became a bit serious. “It seems you are the only one that has been able to.”
“I’m sure Echizen--”
“Echizen can play, but only against me, Inui. Surely you can tell the difference.” He smiled. “You have always been able to know what I was thinking.”
Inui had. He couldn’t put it in words, or mathematical formulas. Their affinity was beyond all that. Echizen may have had the tennis skills, but he was lacking greatly in his relationship with others, except maybe for Tezuka. Inui could see that now.
“Fuji...” Inui hesitated. “About Kaidoh. I’ve come to know him very well. He is a difficult character to understand, and sometimes I feel all he needs is a kind encouragement. But Momo...” Inui felt strange saying these things out loud, but somehow it was easy to tell them to someone who already knew how he felt. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”
Fuji smiled. “Your worry is touching, Inui. Kaidoh is very lucky to have you watching over him.” Inui felt himself get warmer, but managed to control it. “Your answer is right in front of you, if you watch closely.”
He looked at where Kaidoh and Momo were still at a distance small enough to cause damage on each other, but had settled on looking at opposite directions, not trying to hide the fact they were leaning on each other’s shoulders. Momo murmured something that made Kaidoh hiss. Momo laughed and this made Kaidoh even angrier. He pulled Momo’s shoulder to confront him and Momo grabbed Kaidoh’s neck in both hands as if to strangle him, but instead knocked their foreheads together. Kaidoh, instead of punching him, mirrored the smirk on Momo’s face. They stared at each other like that for a while, like a challenge, but also like a vow of trust. Yes, they would be okay.
He looked back at Fuji and found him looking back. They shared a thought, maybe two, and then Inui nodded.
“Excellent,” said Fuji. “Now about that juice of yours... care to share the recipe with me?”
“Not without a proper retribution, of course. I know how much you would like to drink it more often. For you, the price is high,” Inui angled his glasses against the sun to produce a threatening glare.
“I’m sure I can think of something,” Fuji promised dangerously.
Yes, they would all be okay.
So, naturally, I wrote fic for it.
Pairing: Inui/Fuji
Spoilers: barely none
Rating: G
Title: Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Even when probability was low of gathering Fuji’s data, Inui still came to see every one of his games. So far his weaknesses had escaped Inui’s vigilant spectacles, but data was data and always useful. There was a 1% chance he could find the complicated pattern that would decipher Seigaku’s prodigy if he kept it up.
Inui’s role in this friendly tournament had been crucial. He had arranged the order of the players, as well as informed them of their opponents’ weaknesses and strengths.
Seigaku had so far only one win, thanks to Kawamura’s single. Inui’s Over-the-top Energizing Drink explained both games lost by the Inui-Momo pair and the Golden Pair. The mixture of the player’s boasting stamina and the juice’s effect had resulted in their over-exertion by the middle of the game. Inui had already scribbled down the modified quantities of the ingredients, as well as Momo’s decrease of 23% tolerance for his juice.
Inui settled close to the court for Kaidoh’s single match. He had had his eyes on him ever since he lost his spot as a regular against him. Kaidoh managed to improve his tennis at outstandingly high rates. His tenacity paired up with the menu prepared by Inui had turned him into a strong player indeed.
That’s why four games into the set, it was disconcerting to see Kaidoh unable to score once. Inui examined Kaidoh’s body up close. The muscles in his legs and arms were as tense as his racket’s strings. Kaidoh was clutching the handle so hard his knuckles had turned white.
“Kaidoh is in a lot of stress. He needs to release it,” he said to the onlookers at large.
“So you have noticed too,” said Fuji in concern.
“Kachiro,” called Inui. “Please go fetch Momo from the infirmary. Make it quick.”
“H-hai!” The first year trio left running. Fuji, at his side, was smirking in his off-handed way.
“Your thoughts too?” Inui asked him. It was almost useless to ask these days, since both seemed to always be thinking similarly.
“Let’s see if we can make this match interesting,” Fuji nodded.
Momo arrived at the end of the game, held up by Kantou and Kachiro, with Horio in the lead. He still looked green in the face, and his eyelids were saggy, but you could see the determination in his eyes.
“Mamushi!” he roared. “What the hell are you playing at?”
The change in Kaidoh’s structure was immediate. His fists unclenched to half their clutch, his usual harsh face became alive with fury. He looked at Momoshiro straight in the eye and reeled. Every part of his body responded fiercely to his presence. It was intoxicating. Or Inui calculated that’s how it should feel to be looked at like that.
“Who asked you, baka? You better shut your mouth during a match!” Kaidoh must repress a lot of anger to sound this guttural when he is allowed to. Momo is surely a comforting assurance of stress release for him. He had to ponder if it was possible for Inui to simulate this kind of scenario with Kaidoh.
“I don’t need your permission to tell you when you suck!” Momo informed him angrily.
“What did you just say?” Kaidoh seethed.
“Are you deaf too? I said you suck!”
Kaidoh bolted towards Momo and stopped centimeters in front of him, the green wire surrounding the court the only division standing between them. They glared at each other unapologetically long. The heat was palpable.
“If you’ve got something to prove to me,” Momo finally murmured dangerously, “better do it on the court.” They sealed their vow with a shared grimace and both departed in different directions. He sometimes wished he could be part of that kind of passion.
“You felt it too,” stated Fuji with usual perfect timing and accuracy. “Such intensity is meant to be longed for.”
“One should not wish for what’s impossible to get,” said Inui simply, more to himself than Fuji.
“Hmm...” Fuji smiled. “Reality has its playful ways of proving data wrong.” He turned his face towards the courts. “Take Kaidoh. Against disfavourable odds, he will win us a set.”
As easily as Fuji said it, Kaidoh did, 7-6. Once he escaped the congratulations of his peers, Inui saw him walk to the shadow of a tree where Momo was sleeping. He sat on his calves, took off his bandana now stained with sweat, and shook his head viciously, sending droplets all over Momo’s placid-looking face. It drew a scowl when he woke up, startled, and soon they were both being rude to each other all over again. Inui knew it was not right to envy Momo like this. Even so, he could not will his face to turn away.
“Inui,” came Fuji’s voice from behind. He turned to look at him. There was a playful air in Fuji’s smile. “There is still one more game to watch”. He entered the court, racket in hand.
Fuji looked serene after the handshake. It was strange for him to demand attention the way he had just done from Inui, and the most probable reason was worry about his opponent. The day before they had gone over Inui’s notes on Shibata. He was to be taken seriously, but data showed it was not beyond Fuji to win. Of course, there was the inescapable fact that data on Fuji was never reliable.
The first two games were won by Fuji without problem. In the third game, Shibata’s special shot, not recorded by Inui, took Fuji by surprise. A please smile crept to his lips as he finally got ready to play seriously.
Fuji opened his eyes wide. It was a rare treat to see the depth of Fuji’s blue eyes, but it was unprecedented that they would be looking straight at Inui. He was taken aback. Such intensity... He felt it shake his shoulders as a shiver traveled down his spine -exactly how he speculated it could. He had seen it in Kaidoh when he was confronting Momo. But coming from himself because of Fuji’s glance...
Inui began losing focus with every ball sent by Fuji, he felt like he got deeper into the game, as if he were a part of it instead of just an observer. He caught Fuji’s gaze in between serves, penetrating him, inviting him to get even closer.
Fuji had such precision and grace it was beyond Inui to understand it. Watching Fuji play meant putting his data-gathering in stand-by; it was useless, as it was not consistent even throughout one single match. It bothered him mildly to be almost certain that he could never understand this kind of power, no matter how many times he watched. Still, he held on the one most valuable fact he’d learned in Seigaku: data could always be overcome.
As the ball soared through the air and bounced on Fuji’s racket, Inui realized there was no other player that he could watch this freely. Because he didn’t have to gather data, all Inui had left to do was watch closely and enjoy it. And today, of all days, it was impossible not to. Fuji was enveloping his whole attention on that drive, that drop shot, that tsubame-gaeshi.
He couldn’t remove his gaze from his tennis - graceful, sharp, and unpredictable. Inexplicably, he felt like every swing came from his own arm, like he owned that instinct he could not understand. But suddenly it was like someone turned a light on, because he realized it could never be understood, and only known. Inui may not be able to ever know this kind of tennis, but today Fuji had let him in his play, with his gaze let him feel how it was like to be Fuji Syuusuke, Seigaku’s prodigy. That was enough to leave Inui breathless.
He heard someone call him and it took a great deal of concentration to bring himself back. He had stared at Fuji from the final handshake over the net, all the way outside of the court and into the crows that was congratulating his effort. Inui was too overwhelmed to say anything.
Fuji separated from the rest and walked straight to him. His every step weighed on Inui’s body. His senses had never been this tuned in on one person. It felt like the world had gone black and there was only the fulminating presence of Fuji.
“Inui,” he said in that soft tone. “Thank you for playing with me.”
“Aa--” Inui muttered clumsily, and Fuji chuckled. “Fuji...” Why could he only draw a blank? He focused and tried to put some sense into his words. “I’d like to play with you again, if it’s at all possible.”
“You can always play with me, Inui,” Fuji said pleasantly. He looked over at where Kaidoh and Momo were still glaring and being nasty to each other. “Just don’t forget there is always one more game to watch.”
Inui nodded, but there was something else tugging at his mind. “May I ask for the reason why you are giving me this?”
“I’m not giving it to you,” Fuji smiled mysteriously. “It was always there. You just learned how to take it with your own hand.” He became a bit serious. “It seems you are the only one that has been able to.”
“I’m sure Echizen--”
“Echizen can play, but only against me, Inui. Surely you can tell the difference.” He smiled. “You have always been able to know what I was thinking.”
Inui had. He couldn’t put it in words, or mathematical formulas. Their affinity was beyond all that. Echizen may have had the tennis skills, but he was lacking greatly in his relationship with others, except maybe for Tezuka. Inui could see that now.
“Fuji...” Inui hesitated. “About Kaidoh. I’ve come to know him very well. He is a difficult character to understand, and sometimes I feel all he needs is a kind encouragement. But Momo...” Inui felt strange saying these things out loud, but somehow it was easy to tell them to someone who already knew how he felt. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”
Fuji smiled. “Your worry is touching, Inui. Kaidoh is very lucky to have you watching over him.” Inui felt himself get warmer, but managed to control it. “Your answer is right in front of you, if you watch closely.”
He looked at where Kaidoh and Momo were still at a distance small enough to cause damage on each other, but had settled on looking at opposite directions, not trying to hide the fact they were leaning on each other’s shoulders. Momo murmured something that made Kaidoh hiss. Momo laughed and this made Kaidoh even angrier. He pulled Momo’s shoulder to confront him and Momo grabbed Kaidoh’s neck in both hands as if to strangle him, but instead knocked their foreheads together. Kaidoh, instead of punching him, mirrored the smirk on Momo’s face. They stared at each other like that for a while, like a challenge, but also like a vow of trust. Yes, they would be okay.
He looked back at Fuji and found him looking back. They shared a thought, maybe two, and then Inui nodded.
“Excellent,” said Fuji. “Now about that juice of yours... care to share the recipe with me?”
“Not without a proper retribution, of course. I know how much you would like to drink it more often. For you, the price is high,” Inui angled his glasses against the sun to produce a threatening glare.
“I’m sure I can think of something,” Fuji promised dangerously.
Yes, they would all be okay.