Prince of Tennis: of brightly-colored birds
Title: of brightly-colored birds
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters/Pairings: Fuji/Ryoma
Genre: Shounen-ai, angst-ish.
Notes: Written for another of
numisma 's spam posts. ^^
"Ne, Fuji-senpai. What's that?"
Fuji glances up at Echizen and lets a smile slip. It is lunchtime and Fuji has escaped onto the roof for quiet alone time; it's just one of those days.
He hadn't expected for Echizen to show up, but somehow it doesn't surprise him that he did.
"This?" he asks, holding up a piece of beautifully folded paper between his two fingers. "It's a crane, Echizen."
Ryoma frowns.
"Origami."
"Mm. Origami."
"Why?"
Fuji shrugs fluidly.
"Why not?" He sets the crane down, adding it to the neat pile beside him. There are five or six of them altogether, a rainbow of brightly-colored birds. Syuusuke takes another sheet of paper and begins to fold.
"Teach me," Ryoma says suddenly. Fuji glances up and laughs lightly, amused by his underclassman.
"Of course," he replies. "Sit down..."
--
Echizen's cranes look horrible. They're malformed and ugly and totally different from Fuji-senpai's graceful birds.
Fuji-senpai says he just needs to practice a little and he'll get better.
Echizen doesn't believe him.
But he does.
--
They sit together in silence; the only noise between them is that of rustling paper.
To tell the truth, Echizen doesn't much like folding cranes. They're tedious and useless and he has these odd calluses beginning on the tips of his fingers where he's pressed down on the creases.
But if it means he gets to spend time alone with Fuji-senpai, he doesn't really mind so much...
--
Echizen moves back to America in November.
His father says it'll be permanent this time; there's no reason for them to be in Japan any longer, considering how much Ryoma's improved. The real tennis world is in America. He'll live in New York and go to a special tennis school and he'll be the World Number 1 in no time at all.
Echizen just utters a, "Che," and swallows that feeling in his throat.
--
Fuji smiles when he says good-bye. He smiles and gives Echizen his parting gift and watches Echizen deal with his other admirers, friends, and teammates.
He smiles until he feels the string of un-given paper cranes in his pocket, and then he turns away to go wash his face in the airport restroom.
--Fuji writes to Echizen in America.
He writes once, and it is a long letter about how everything is in Japan. About Echizen's old friends. About things.
Echizen's reply is short and curt; school keeps him busy. His old man keeps him busy. Tennis keeps him busy. But he misses Japan.
Fuji writes again, and this time it is a little shorter. A little.
Echizen's reply is late, and short, and doesn't say much of anything. Fuji doesn't care.
He writes again. And again. And again.
There are no replies.
--
It takes Fuji Syuusuke nine months, a week, and four days to realize that Echizen isn't going to write back anymore.
--
Echizen Ryoma finds himself back in Japan a year, a month, a week, and a day after leaving.
He's counted.
Ryuuzaki-sensei meets him at the airport, and she seems genuinely happy to see him. She needs him on her regulars, she explains. Seigaku didn't get anywhere near Nationals this past year, and she needs a strong captain.
He asks her about Fuji-senpai.
Ryuuzaki gives him a funny look.
"He's not on the high school team," she tells him. "Pity. He was so good, too."
--
Fuji hears that Echizen is back. He hears and he doesn't know whether he really believes it or not until he spots a somewhat-familiar form skulking in front of his house.
"Echizen," he says neutrally, a smile in place on his lips.
Ryoma frowns.
"You stopped writing."
The muscle in Syuusuke's jaw tightens minutely.
"Mm? Did I? I wonder why..."
Echizen looks away.
"I read all of them."
Fuji turns and begins to walk to his door. "I see."
"Senpai."
Syuusuke takes out his keys. "Hm?"
"I didn't know how to send them all to you."
A pause in movement. "Send what?"
In response, Echizen steps forward and hands Fuji a backpack that Syuusuke didn't even realize he had with him.
"There are 806," Ryoma says, and Fuji looks at him quizzically before unzipping the backpack.
It's an explosion of color -- a flock of brightly-colored birds nestled in the black fabric, packed tightly in there together.
Fuji stares, and Echizen feels vaguely triumphant that he's managed to genuinely shock him.
"Echizen..."
"Can I come in, Fuji-senpai?"
Fuji looks up and meets Echizen's gaze. Really meets it.
"Of course," he says, and ushers Ryoma in, clutching the bag in one hand. Then, after a moment: "...You could've used a box, you know."
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters/Pairings: Fuji/Ryoma
Genre: Shounen-ai, angst-ish.
Notes: Written for another of
numisma 's spam posts. ^^
"Ne, Fuji-senpai. What's that?"
Fuji glances up at Echizen and lets a smile slip. It is lunchtime and Fuji has escaped onto the roof for quiet alone time; it's just one of those days.
He hadn't expected for Echizen to show up, but somehow it doesn't surprise him that he did.
"This?" he asks, holding up a piece of beautifully folded paper between his two fingers. "It's a crane, Echizen."
Ryoma frowns.
"Origami."
"Mm. Origami."
"Why?"
Fuji shrugs fluidly.
"Why not?" He sets the crane down, adding it to the neat pile beside him. There are five or six of them altogether, a rainbow of brightly-colored birds. Syuusuke takes another sheet of paper and begins to fold.
"Teach me," Ryoma says suddenly. Fuji glances up and laughs lightly, amused by his underclassman.
"Of course," he replies. "Sit down..."
--
Echizen's cranes look horrible. They're malformed and ugly and totally different from Fuji-senpai's graceful birds.
Fuji-senpai says he just needs to practice a little and he'll get better.
Echizen doesn't believe him.
But he does.
--
They sit together in silence; the only noise between them is that of rustling paper.
To tell the truth, Echizen doesn't much like folding cranes. They're tedious and useless and he has these odd calluses beginning on the tips of his fingers where he's pressed down on the creases.
But if it means he gets to spend time alone with Fuji-senpai, he doesn't really mind so much...
--
Echizen moves back to America in November.
His father says it'll be permanent this time; there's no reason for them to be in Japan any longer, considering how much Ryoma's improved. The real tennis world is in America. He'll live in New York and go to a special tennis school and he'll be the World Number 1 in no time at all.
Echizen just utters a, "Che," and swallows that feeling in his throat.
--
Fuji smiles when he says good-bye. He smiles and gives Echizen his parting gift and watches Echizen deal with his other admirers, friends, and teammates.
He smiles until he feels the string of un-given paper cranes in his pocket, and then he turns away to go wash his face in the airport restroom.
--Fuji writes to Echizen in America.
He writes once, and it is a long letter about how everything is in Japan. About Echizen's old friends. About things.
Echizen's reply is short and curt; school keeps him busy. His old man keeps him busy. Tennis keeps him busy. But he misses Japan.
Fuji writes again, and this time it is a little shorter. A little.
Echizen's reply is late, and short, and doesn't say much of anything. Fuji doesn't care.
He writes again. And again. And again.
There are no replies.
--
It takes Fuji Syuusuke nine months, a week, and four days to realize that Echizen isn't going to write back anymore.
--
Echizen Ryoma finds himself back in Japan a year, a month, a week, and a day after leaving.
He's counted.
Ryuuzaki-sensei meets him at the airport, and she seems genuinely happy to see him. She needs him on her regulars, she explains. Seigaku didn't get anywhere near Nationals this past year, and she needs a strong captain.
He asks her about Fuji-senpai.
Ryuuzaki gives him a funny look.
"He's not on the high school team," she tells him. "Pity. He was so good, too."
--
Fuji hears that Echizen is back. He hears and he doesn't know whether he really believes it or not until he spots a somewhat-familiar form skulking in front of his house.
"Echizen," he says neutrally, a smile in place on his lips.
Ryoma frowns.
"You stopped writing."
The muscle in Syuusuke's jaw tightens minutely.
"Mm? Did I? I wonder why..."
Echizen looks away.
"I read all of them."
Fuji turns and begins to walk to his door. "I see."
"Senpai."
Syuusuke takes out his keys. "Hm?"
"I didn't know how to send them all to you."
A pause in movement. "Send what?"
In response, Echizen steps forward and hands Fuji a backpack that Syuusuke didn't even realize he had with him.
"There are 806," Ryoma says, and Fuji looks at him quizzically before unzipping the backpack.
It's an explosion of color -- a flock of brightly-colored birds nestled in the black fabric, packed tightly in there together.
Fuji stares, and Echizen feels vaguely triumphant that he's managed to genuinely shock him.
"Echizen..."
"Can I come in, Fuji-senpai?"
Fuji looks up and meets Echizen's gaze. Really meets it.
"Of course," he says, and ushers Ryoma in, clutching the bag in one hand. Then, after a moment: "...You could've used a box, you know."