Fanfic - The Winding Path [The Prince of Tennis: Gen/Pre-slash (Tezuka/Ryoma)]

[soera]

Part Two

The ball thumps solidly into his hand and he curls his fingers around it tightly. The regulars have frozen, but thankfully, no one else from the club seems to have noticed anything.

“Morikawa,” he says. “Fifty laps.” The second-year’s face is slowly draining of colour, and he drops his racquet and starts running without any protest. It’s a slightly cruel punishment, especially given how tired all the regulars are, but no one else is complaining either. Really, it’s a little disturbing how this corner of the courts has suddenly fallen so quiet. Ryoma’s fingers are turning white as he clutches the tennis ball.

“Oh behalf of the second-years, I apologise,” Shima says, his face pale. The second-years bow in unison.

“Stop that,” Ryoma says, finally relaxing his grip somewhat. He grabs his crutches and pulls himself upright. “It had nothing to do with you.” He pauses, then adds, “Don’t talk about this to anyone. Get back to practice; Kachirou, make sure that Morikawa finishes his run.”

“I will,” Kachirou says, a strangely hard, unforgiving look in his eyes. Ryoma completely ignores Morikawa’s lone figure loping around the courts as he walks out.

He manages to convince a second-year girl to run up to Ryuuzaki-sensei’s office and ask her to come down for a while. Ten minutes later, he’s ensconced with her in an empty first-floor classroom and explaining what had just happened. She’s as pale as Shima was when he’s finished.

“Deliberately?” she asks in disbelief.

“It’s possible it was just badly aimed,” Ryoma says with a shrug. “But he was getting angrier every time I corrected his form. And from what I saw when he hit the ball…”

Ryuuzaki-sensei rubs her forehead tiredly, and Ryoma’s suddenly struck by how old she seems. Normally she’s so loud and full of life that the “grandma” label seems more like a joke than anything else. Now, though, every one of her years looks like they’re weighing down on her, and Ryoma abruptly wishes that he hadn’t told her anything.

“We’ll have to take him off the team,” she says finally. Ryoma hesitates.

“He’s a good player,” he says neutrally. “We’re hurting the team’s chances if we do that.”

“We don’t need internal conflict,” Ryuuzaki-sensei says firmly. Ryoma shrugs; it was what he’d been thinking as well, but the more he turns Morikawa’s behaviour over in his head, the less it makes sense. There’s something he’s missing, and he doesn’t want to make any decisions about Morikawa without figuring that out.

“Let me talk to him tomorrow,” he says. “Before practice. Hold off till then.”

It’s with great reluctance that Ryuuzaki-sensei allows it. Initially she insists on being present, but a vague presentiment tells Ryoma that that wouldn’t be a good idea. Instead, they settle on her being within sight, but out of ear-shot, so that she can intervene if she sees anything she doesn’t like.

Her caution turns out to be completely unnecessary. The knowledge of what he could have done yesterday seems to have shaken Morikawa. He starts off by apologising formally to Ryoma and bowing so deeply he’s practically bent in half. It isn’t enough, though. He needs a reason, Ryoma thinks, if he’s to stop something similar from happening again somewhere down the line. It takes every ounce of trickery, misdirection, faking, insinuating and outright lying he can dredge up before Morikawa finally slips up and inadvertently admits the reason for his erratic behaviour. As soon as he has enough evidence, Ryoma confronts him directly about it, and Morikawa’s shocked enough by Ryoma’s bluntness that he comes clean. His parents’ marriage is failing, and their constant quarrelling is taking a toll on their only child.

Ryoma now knows the reason for Morikawa’s sporadic aggressiveness - every time there’s a bad fight at home, Morikawa takes out his feelings of helpless impotence on his team-mates at practice. It doesn’t help Ryoma figure out what to do about Morikawa. On the one hand, he feels kind of sorry for him, and Morikawa appears to be genuinely repentant. Maybe it had taken a shock like yesterday to show him the consequences of lashing out at others. But on the other hand, if Morikawa’s family situation ended up deteriorating even further, Ryoma isn’t sure that he wouldn’t end up returning to his poor behaviour. The silence lengthens uncomfortably as he thinks. Morikawa shifts awkwardly.

“Am I off the team?” he asks miserably. Ryoma studies him carefully. There’s no trace of anger or bravado in his posture.

“Yes,” he says at last, and Morikawa’s shoulders slump even further. “If you slip up one more time, you’re off the team.”

Morikawa’s head snaps up so fast Ryoma thinks he might have given himself whip-lash. His eyes are wide and he opens and closes his mouth at Ryoma a few times wordlessly.

“You know,” Ryoma says slowly. “My old team - there’s some of them I haven’t seen since they graduated two years ago. But… I’d still feel comfortable going to see them now for any reason.” He pauses and meets Morikawa’s eyes squarely. “The regulars tend to pull together very closely. That’s what your team can be for you as well, if you let them.”

He really doesn’t think that he’s cut out to be a psychologist, but something in what he’s said seems to have gotten through. He sends Morikawa off to speak to an antsy Ryuuzaki-sensei, giving him a stern admonishment to tell her the whole truth. Ryuuzaki-sensei can deal with him, he thinks with a sense of relief. That feeling vanishes the moment he realises that now he’ll have to deal with the rest of the team. He doesn’t want to betray Morikawa’s confidence - it’ll be up to the second-year to tell the team the truth - but he needs to give them a good enough explanation that they won’t give Morikawa a hard time when he returns to practice. Fortunately, the third-years appear willing to take Ryoma at his word, and the second-years meekly follow their seniors’ leads.

Morikawa’s return to the team is predictably awkward, but a public apology seems to appease them somewhat. Ryoma’s total indifference to what had happened, alongside Morikawa’s sudden personality change, finally convinces the team to start warming up to him. At the end of the week, Ryoma overhears Shima asking Morikawa to join him and the other second-year regulars for dinner that evening. He hides his smirk and heads to the gate, where his father’s waiting with the car. Tomorrow will be a big day for him.

The fracture’s healing up well. Ryoma outright beams when he hears that he can start to put weight on his leg again. He’ll have to accustom the joint slowly, the doctor warns him. In the meantime, he’s fitted with a new knee brace and taken through the few exercises he’s allowed to do. His total exhaustion at the end of the simple exercises convinces him not to try and push himself like he’d originally been intending to do.

The doctor also prescribes him some sort of medicine to help him deal with the pain. Ryoma privately resolves not to take it, but his father’s got an unsettlingly determined look in his eyes.

He does his exercises faithfully every day, cautiously raising the threshold every time he starts getting accustomed to the strain. His father all but force-feeds him his medicine. Glucosamine, he reads off the label, and looks it up online. The internet assures him authoritatively that the medicine helps arthritis. Or fractured patellas, he supposes. It’s astonishing the amount of medical terminology about the knee he’s managed to pick up over the past month or so.

He ices his knee regularly when he’s at home and suffers quietly when he’s at school. For some reason, he’s even more exhausted these days than he’d been in the first few days of his injury. He guesses that it’s because he’s working the injured leg more these days. He’s going to be on crutches for a while longer, if the doctor’s to be believed, but even when he’s allowed off them, it will be difficult for him to get around. How much longer till tennis, he wonders, and then tries not to think because it hurts to do so. Tezuka now calls him almost every week in lieu of their Sunday games, which eases the tightness in his chest somewhat.

Only halfway through his first rehabilitation session, and there are tears squeezing out of his eyes. He’s furious at himself but refuses to slow, doggedly pushing on and completing everything the therapists asks of him. She’s relentless during the session, but full of praise afterwards. All he can think of is that he’d initially believed that he was doing well with his exercises at home. He’s horrified to realise how much muscle tone he’s actually lost. It’s clear now that he still has a long way to go.

Owowow, he texts to Tezuka that evening. It’s self-explanatory. Tezuka calls him a few minutes later and they spend a pleasant ten minutes commiserating over sadistic physiotherapists. Ryoma’s in a slightly better mood by the time he gets to sleep that night.

He toughs out the physiotherapy, constantly raising the bar and prompting his therapist to comment that unlike with most of her patients, she needs to tell him to slow down instead of going on. He’s simultaneously more tired and more energetic than he’s felt in a while, which is a very odd sensation to have. It’s nice knowing that he’s slowly getting back into good condition; his leg doesn’t feel like a stiff spaghetti strand any longer. But at the same time, the rehabilitation is fairly draining, and he’s had to cut back on the amount of time he spends at practice. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t order that new regulars’ jersey after all,” he tells Kachirou one day at practice, and immediately feels slightly guilty when Kachirou adopts a look like he’s just been hit in the face with a tennis ball.

Three things keep him going. The first is talking to Tezuka. The second is Karupin, who is the one person around him who doesn’t care whether he plays tennis or not. All Karupin knows of the game is that the balls are fun to pounce on. His cat doesn’t ask him to be anyone but himself, and Karupin’s undivided attention and love makes him feel a lot better about himself. The third is that the team have rallied around Morikawa and are now working as perfectly together as his old team, back in his first year, had managed. Even the regulars from last year hadn’t been as cohesive. Somehow they’d found out about Morikawa’s unhappy domestic situation, and they’d determined to make his school life as pleasant as it could get. Morikawa’s looking a lot happier these days, and his game’s improved as well. He’s good enough that Ryoma doesn’t hesitate to place him in Singles One during some matches, sometimes alternating with Hirose. The decision pays off. The team loses a few matches but wins enough to keep moving forward. Every victory motivates Ryoma to work harder at his rehabilitation. It’s not going to be as easy as he’d thought it would be, but he’s determined to at least stand with them at the Nationals.

And the team know that that’s his goal. Even if he can’t play in the Nationals, he wants Seigaku to take the title back from Rikkaidai again. It’s the least he can do to support Seigaku, he thinks. Even with physiotherapy cutting into practice, Ryoma never fails to show up for at least the start of every practice. It seems to have a somewhat inspirational effect on everyone, especially the regulars. The injury’s had one positive result, he thinks wryly as he watches them outstrip his expectations completely. It’s the best kind of get-well-soon present they can give him, and they know it.

Eventually, Ryoma graduates from his physiotherapy classes; he’s allowed to do his exercises at home instead of going to the clinic. “I usually have to warn my patients to keep up with their exercises,” his therapist tells his parents. “In his case, please make sure he doesn’t overdo it.” He’s also able now to walk unaided, though he can only manage a stiff-legged gait that makes him look like an idiot. He still needs a crutch to move at a decent speed, but the fact that he’s able to literally stand on his own two feet now makes him ridiculously happy. He can’t help but remember the first time he’d tried to walk without crutches, under his therapist’s watchful eye. His left leg had been completely useless and he would have collapsed had it not been for the rail he was clutching. It’s a huge improvement from that period of time, as far as he’s concerned.

His parents buy him a stationary bike. He pushes his knee as far as he dares every day, gradually working his way up to two hours on the bike. The throbbing is starting to ease a little, which he supposes is a good sign. Every chance he gets, he practices walking around without crutches, and he’s eventually moving almost completely normally. He won’t be setting any speed records, but at least he can walk properly now. He’s regaining his muscle tone and his knee doesn’t hurt except when he flexes it significantly. There’s virtually no swelling, though he still ices his knee regularly. Stairs pose a slight problem for him, but he gets around it by placing more weight on his right leg than his left, and taking the stairs at a bit of a hop. It’s with great relief that he moves back to his own room.

A month later, he’s told he can start doing some jogging and light tennis. He’s given strict limits on what he can do, but he’s never been so relieved in his life. He plays with his phone on the way home, paying no attention to his parents’ conversation. Eventually, he comes to a decision and sends a quick message.

Don’t suppose you have some spare time? he’s written. I can play a little now… a very little, but it’s better than nothing.

The usual time and place, Tezuka writes back. A tiny smile on his lips, Ryoma replaces the phone in his bag. Two more days to Sunday, and he spends the time cautiously testing his limits against his father.

Tezuka demands to know everything he’s allowed and not allowed to do before he’ll agree to play. Ryoma runs the list through with him, thinking that Tezuka worries more than his mother does. Finally, they get settled down for a light game. It’s strange not to be playing seriously against Tezuka, but at the same time it’s nice not to have any pressure on you while playing. Ryoma’s not entirely sure how to reconcile the two sentiments, and decides to just ignore the feeling altogether. What matters is the game, and the fact that Tezuka’s across the net from him, and he’s finally, finally playing again.

By the time the team plays the finals at the Kanto tournaments, Ryoma’s standing there with Ryuuzaki-sensei watching. It’s a good day; there’s no pain at all. His knee is in a brace, just to be careful, but he hasn’t felt this good in a while. His fan-club astounds him by showing up in full force and screaming support for every single player on the team. For the first time in almost three years, he thinks charitably of them.

They start off by losing the first match, but claw their way into a victory with the next doubles match. Singles 3 is close, but they eventually lose. The Hyotei supporters are as loud as he remembers them being in the past, even without the Monkey King there. Hyotei, however, doesn’t seem as strong as he remembers them being. Bad year for them, he guesses. Seigaku isn’t the only team to have lost strong players and suffered from a high turnover. Yoshinaga barely manages to take Singles 2, which sends all the supporters from both schools into a frenzy. Ryoma has his fingers crossed for the last match, but it turns out to be unnecessary. Morikawa dominates the match from the beginning, and rides his high all the way to a six-three finish. His team goes temporarily insane and mobs Morikawa even before he’s fully off the courts.

“Well done,” Ryuuzaki-sensei tells Ryoma as they watch the shrieking, incoherent mass of flailing arms and legs.

“Tell them,” Ryoma replies.

“I will,” she says, then clears her throat to get his attention. “But you deserve it too.” She nods forward, and he glances back up. He can barely keep the surprise off his face when he sees the team lined up in front of him, arms around each other and grinning widely.

“Thanks for everything, buchou!” they chorus, bowing deeply, if a tad awkwardly. None of them seem ready to let go yet. It might have been sweat or tears on Morikawa’s face; Ryoma isn’t sure. The Seigaku supporters, he thinks distantly, are all going to lose their voices by tomorrow.

“Good job, all of you,” Ryuuzaki-sensei breaks in, saving him from having to respond. He hides his relief. “Ryoma’s guidance was important, but you all took that extra step to train and prepare yourselves. You deserve today’s win.”

Ryoma slants a slightly mischievous look at Ryuuzaki-sensei. “I think we should have dinner to celebrate,” he says. “After the closing ceremony.”

She catches on instantly and gives him an equally amused look. “I think I know where we can go,” she replies, getting up. “I’ll go make the calls now.”

Kachirou and Katsuo still have their arms around each other’s shoulders, and now they’re exchanging wide grins. “We’re going there, right?” they ask, to the bewilderment of the other players. Even Yamaguchi and Hirose are confused, having never gotten far enough the previous year for a victory dinner.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ryoma says casually. “Get back on court - they’re calling you.” He watches with ill-disguised pride as the two teams line up across the net and bow to each other, and wonders how many people Ryuuzaki-sensei is going to call.

All of them, apparently.

Ryoma pushes Kachirou and Katsuo in first, which proves to be a good idea as they’re immediately pounced on by Momo and Kikumaru. Using a mystified Morikawa as a shield, Ryoma sneaks in while they’re occupied, and manages to sit down before anyone notices him.

“Watch the leg,” he warns the moment Kikumaru turns to pounce on him. The red-haired boy comes skidding to a stop, eyeing the brace in bafflement.

“Ochibi!” he squeaks. “What happened to you?”

Ryoma blinks in surprise and glances over briefly at Tezuka, who shakes his head slightly. That Tezuka had kept his privacy isn’t really that surprising in retrospect, but he’s still amazed that the rumours hadn’t made it over to the high school from the middle school students. He can’t be the only one who keeps in contact with some of his seniors.

“I landed on it roughly a while back,” he explains succinctly. “It’s better now, but I’m supposed to take it easy on the sports for a while.”

That reassures his old team-mates, until the current regulars (traitors, Ryoma thinks in dismay) jump in to elaborate on what Ryoma’s injury had been like initially. They don’t know too much about the specifics, of course, but they’d witnessed first-hand how hard it had been on Ryoma in those first months. It sparks off cries of outrage that Ryoma hadn’t told them (Momo and Kikumaru), fussing over his current condition (Oishi and Kawamura), admonishments to take it easy (Inui and Kaidoh) and a query of how long it will be till he returns to tennis (Fuji).

The entire shop falls silent at the last question. Ryoma shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ll let you know when I find out,” he says, and refuses to elaborate when pressed. Eventually the novelty of the whole situation seems to wear off, and everyone starts mingling. It’s about time they focused on what they were here for, Ryoma thinks, and watches as two parts of his life meet.

As Kachirou and Katsuo simultaneously choke on their drinks at the news that Fuji-senpai no longer plays tennis, Tezuka comes over to sit by Ryoma. Ryoma slides a plate of sushi over to him.

“You were no help,” he mutters accusingly.

“I was unaware you required help,” Tezuka replies placidly. Ryoma graces him with a scowl. The look eventually turns to contemplation as they sit together in comfortable silence.

“Is it what you expected?” Tezuka asks eventually. It doesn’t take any time at all for Ryoma to realise what he’s talking about. He looks over at his team. At Kachirou, who’s telling Shima and Takaku about “Tezuka-buchou,” and Yoshinaga, who’s talking about “Kaidoh-buchou,” and Morikawa, who can’t shut up about “Echizen-buchou,” and Fuji-senpai, who’s laughing at the confusing conglomeration of captains they appear to have acquired.

“It’s more,” he admits, and Tezuka nods. His eyes are warm and understanding, and he’s looking at Ryoma in a disconcertingly familiar manner. Then Ryoma realises abruptly that it’s the same look he’d been giving his team just a few hours earlier, and he has to duck his head to hide the sudden flush spreading across his cheeks. Tezuka makes a funny little sound that Ryoma suspects might have been a stifled laugh, had it been anyone else, but he doesn’t dare look to check. Tezuka really has loosened up, he thinks, studying his green tea with fervent intensity. He suspects it’s because Tezuka no longer has to worry about the welfare of the club, or about his arm, and for once doesn’t have to be the responsible adult. It’s about time Tezuka got to relax, he thinks.

Tezuka, Inui, Kaidoh and Momo walk Ryoma back home. Inui volunteers to scope out Seigaku’s competition in future tournaments, and help out with training if Ryoma needs it. It’s an offer that Ryoma accepts gladly; he’ll take whatever he can get when it comes to making his team the best it can be. He still wants to win the Nationals. Kaidoh and Momo bicker most of the walk, but then they come to a corner and Inui says that he has to leave and Kaidoh breaks off the argument abruptly to accompany Inui. Ryoma raises an eyebrow at them and mutters a goodbye.

Momo tells Ryoma, through laughter, that Morikawa absolutely idolises him. Ryoma refuses to believe it, but then Tezuka adds that he’d noticed it too. Tezuka’s agreement is impossible to ignore, and Momo teases Ryoma about it all the way until he remembers that he needs to pick up some groceries and dashes off with a hasty apology.

“What did you do to Morikawa?” Tezuka asks as they stroll back at a leisurely pace.

“Nothing much,” Ryoma says unconvincingly. “I found out he was having some trouble, and well… he wasn’t behaving very well, but I gave him a second chance. I guess that’s why.”

“He seemed to be very well settled into the team,” Tezuka comments neutrally. Ryoma shrugs dismissively. Tezuka bumps the back of his hand against Ryoma’s lightly and doesn’t speak. Ryoma knows he wants to say something, can see the words forming in the back of his eyes, you’ve grown, and is thankful he doesn’t say them because the blush is hard enough to fight down as it is.

The Kanto victory’s all well and good, but Ryoma has loftier goals. He works the team ragged, and if any of them were complacent about their chances, they aren’t any more after watching some videos that Inui had offered them. He’d managed to catch some of the stronger teams practicing, and it’s evident they’re going to have a real fight on their hands. Rikkaidai, HigaChuu and Nagoya Seitoku look like they’ll be Seigaku’s strongest rivals this year.

“Rikkaidai’s taken the Nationals three years out of the last four,” Kachirou broods out loud at practice. “Seigaku beat them in our first year, but… they’re still so strong now.”

“So we’ll have to get even stronger,” Morikawa says practically, and suits action to words by picking up his racquet and moving towards the courts. “Coming?”

Ryoma’s lips twitch as Kachirou stares after Morikawa in disbelief. “Go on,” he urges his vice-captain, who grins all of a sudden and gets up.

“Next year, Ryoma-kun,” Kachirou says too-casually. Ryoma’s instantly on his guard. “Who do you think will be the captain?”

It’s a good question, and it’s something that Ryoma ponders while he’s training (torturing) his team at camp. Inui’s been exceedingly cooperative in helping him draw up training schedules. He’s even given him some juice for motivational purposes. The four third-year regulars shriek in unadulterated terror upon seeing the tank. After their first taste of the juice, the second-years understand the fear. It’s amazing how much more driven they all become after that.

The intensive training pays off. He knows from some of their conversations that not all of them are planning on pursuing tennis after middle school, but that just makes them all the more determined to do their absolute best here while they can. Momo-senpai’s right about Morikawa, Ryoma reluctantly concedes. He thinks he might have been happier not knowing. But he doesn’t really care what their reasons are for working and putting up with the exhaustive training and training on their own on top of that and putting up with Inui’s juices, so long as they work.

It’s their last training camp before the Nationals begin, and everyone’s understandably antsy. Ryoma’s wondering how to settle them down when Ryuuzaki-sensei handles matters for him by telling them to shut up and get to bed. Ryoma takes the opportunity to slip out for some air and thinks about another training camp he’d been at two years ago.

He’s completely unsurprised when Tezuka shows up on the second last day of the camp. He speaks briefly to each of the members as they practice, and then to Ryuuzaki-sensei on the other end of the courts, before coming to sit down next to Ryoma.

“Spreading gossip?” Ryoma inquires. Tezuka arches an eyebrow. It speaks volumes. The edges of Ryoma’s lips quirk upwards.

“They look to be in good shape,” Tezuka comments.

“They’re as good as they’re going to get,” Ryoma replies, studying Takaku as he tosses a ball into the air. The serve blazes by so quickly that Yoshinaga doesn’t even have the opportunity to move.

Tezuka’s quiet for so long that Ryoma eventually turns back to him, a quizzical look on his face. He finds that Tezuka’s eyes are fixed on him, and there’s something like resignation in them.

“You want to play,” Tezuka says, and Ryoma physically flinches. The next moment, he’s torn his eyes away from Tezuka’s and is intently scrutinising Hirose’s form. Tezuka lays a hand lightly on Ryoma’s knee. He doesn’t press, but it’s clear that he’s not backing down from the topic either. Long minutes pass before Ryoma finally nods jerkily.

“Walk with me,” Tezuka says, his hand lingering on Ryoma’s knee for a minute before he gets up. He starts walking towards the house they’re staying in. Ryoma takes a moment to tell the team to keep the practice going, and then follows, trying to brace himself for what’s probably not going to be a very pleasant conversation.

“Buchou?” Ryoma asks once they’re out of sight, eyes fixed on the back of Tezuka’s lavender shirt. It’s the same shirt that Tezuka had worn the one time Ryoma had seen him at home, Ryoma thinks distantly. Tezuka motions for him to walk alongside him and he obediently picks up his pace slightly. They stroll up the mountain path in near-silence. The only times Tezuka speaks are to point out the occasional rare flower or bird. Ryoma’s bewildered, and he’s sure it’s showing on his face.

Finally, they reach a crest. It’s not the peak, which lies far above them, but the cliff drops sharply away here and gives them a spectacular view. Ryoma silently slides to the ground, staring out at the seemingly endless greenery.

Tezuka remains standing. After a while, Ryoma transfers his gaze from the lush forest to Tezuka’s face. He knows that his old captain doesn’t do anything without a reason, but he can’t for the life of him figure out this walk. He studies Tezuka’s face, hoping for a clue of some sort. Eventually, the taller boy sits down next to him.

“How long do you think it will take to get to the peak?” Tezuka asks him, glancing up at the path they’d left behind them. Ryoma shrugs idly.

“Maybe another hour or two?” he hazards. “I think the path winds a lot. If we cut through the forest, we’d probably get there sooner… or just get lost.”

“It would be safer to stay on the path,” Tezuka agrees with a faint smile. “Though the forest would probably be more interesting.”

Ryoma stares at Tezuka for a long, long moment. “Oh,” he finally says, and looks back out over the cliff, lifting his eyes from the trees to the sky. “Right.” In retrospect, it’s pretty obvious.

It’s nearly dark by the time they get back, but Ryuuzaki-sensei doesn’t seem to care. The team is curious, of course, but a few glowers from Ryoma convinces them that he’s not going to answer, and it’s not like any of them are going to ask Tezuka. Ryuuzaki-sensei insists that it’s too late for Tezuka to leave, and so he calls his parents and then stays the night. Ryoma lies awake for a while, facing Tezuka, letting his eyes get used to the dark, watching how the total blackness resolves itself into an indistinct outline, waiting for Tezuka’s back to come into a soft focus. Instead, it’s Tezuka’s face that he sees in the diffused moonlight, without his glasses, looking somehow younger and more vulnerable in sleep. Oh, Ryoma thinks vaguely, and doesn’t realise when he falls asleep.

An embarrassing mix-up somewhere means that the Nationals are being held in Tokyo again instead of wherever they were initially supposed to be. Ryoma doesn’t know the details and doesn’t care beyond being thankful that he won’t have to contend with travelling. His knee’s mostly better, but he still doesn’t like to put too much strain on it. Of course, his mother would have protested quite violently if he’d travelled away without her. She’s been a tad paranoid ever since his injury.

The first match is also the hardest that the team have ever played. When Morikawa wins the final match and takes the victory for Seigaku, it’s hard to say which team is more astonished. Ryoma, watching on the sidelines, nods to himself in satisfaction, already running through the line-up for the next match.

That evening, they go out for burgers. It’s only one match and so they’ll save the real celebration for later, but a team dinner is nice every so often. As always, Ryoma sits and listens, speaking up only rarely. On this instance, though, Morikawa looks like he desperately wants to say something to Ryoma, and so Ryoma takes an opportunity when everyone else is distracted to tell Morikawa that he’d played a good game that day.

“It’s the least I could do for you,” Morikawa says bashfully. Looking into Morikawa’s eyes, Ryoma wonders if this is what Tezuka had felt two years ago.

“What you can do for me,” he says quietly. “Is become Seigaku’s pillar of support. Keep Seigaku going strong when I’ve graduated.”

It might as well become a tradition, he thinks. He hopes Tezuka will approve.

They fight through a few more matches and then they’re facing off against Rikkaidai in the finals. Where did the time go, Ryoma wonders, listening as the two teams are announced. It’s not entirely a surprise when he hears familiar voices screaming for Seigaku, even before the matches begin. A quick check of the crowds reveals that the regulars’ teams from the past two years are all there. Their presence seems to have bolstered the actual players. Ryoma closes his eyes briefly and wishes he could be on the courts. Then he shakes off the feeling and focuses on the matches. Ryuuzaki-sensei’s bench coach as always, so all he can do is watch quietly from the side-lines. It seems to be all his team needs.

Kachirou and Katsuo lose one-six in the first match, which isn’t exactly what Ryoma would call a good start. But then Hirose and Yamaguchi prove that Seigaku still has a chance by taking the next match six-four. Shima’s practically vibrating with tension next to Ryoma as the doubles match progresses.

“Relax,” Ryoma tells him, just as Yamaguchi scores match point. “Remember your training. You’ll be fine.”

He is. Shima struggles a little at first, and Ryoma recognises his problem to be one of nerves rather than a lack of skill. But slowly, he starts to get into his game, and once he’s moving like he’s capable of, he starts taking over. Seven to five, and the Seigaku supporters are going to have sore throats tomorrow.

Morikawa’s playing the best Ryoma has ever seen him. When he takes the game, it isn’t really a surprise. It does, however, take a while for it to sink in that his win means that Seigaku’s recaptured the Nationals title, and they hadn’t even needed to go to Singles One. Ryuuzaki-sensei’s looking so happy that Ryoma’s slightly freaked out. It’s then that it dawns on him, and on everyone else on Seigaku’s side, and then Ryoma goes temporarily deaf from the sudden outbreak of screams and shouts. Morikawa vanishes into a mass of flailing arms and legs as the entire team throw themselves on him as a single entity. Ryoma stands there, behind the bench, leaning slightly against the railing, and watches as the past years’ teams join the fray and shower the winning team with congratulations, indiscriminate hugs and slaps on the back.

“Smile a little,” Tezuka tells him, and takes his hand and pulls him forward. Ryoma doesn’t have time to tell Tezuka that he doesn’t want to hear a statement like that from Tezuka of all people, because now the entire team is shrieking and hugging him and he’s getting sweat and tears and who knows what else on him but he doesn’t really care because Seigaku’s won, his team’s won, they’ve won, Tezuka still hasn’t let go, and he’s won.

The team all chip in to buy Ryoma a present that year. He’s somewhat wary of what they could have gotten him, and so it’s with some trepidation that he opens the package. He isn’t expecting the familiar blue and white material.

“Technically, we can’t take it out of the club budget,” Kachirou says. “But that doesn’t mean that we can’t order it in the club’s name and pay for it ourselves.”

Ryoma lifts the Seigaku regulars’ jersey out of the paper they’d wrapped it in and studies it silently. It looks to be his size - one of them had probably appropriated his school jacket at some point to take measurements. He’d usually left it in the clubroom while supervising practice, so it would have been easy. What he’s thinking of, though, is that Kachirou had remembered that one off-hand comment all those months ago.

“You really have turned into Oishi-senpai,” Ryoma says, and if his voice is a little thick, no one comments. Kachirou protests the comparison and the other regulars crack up in laughter. Even the second-years have been exposed to Oishi’s mothering tendencies by now.

“You’ll probably have to exchange it for the high school regulars’ jersey soon,” Katsuo puts in with a grin. “But we hope you like it.”

Ryoma nods distractedly and then, prompted by his eager team, slips the jacket on. It’s like coming home, and his throat feels tight. Fortunately, the team don’t let him dwell, producing a small cake out of nowhere and insisting on having their own mini-party then and there. It’s the tennis clubroom, Ryoma wants to protest, you’re not supposed to have parties there, but he doesn’t say anything in the end. It’s not like there’s practice anyway; the grounds are buried under thick layers of snow this year, unlike the last.

Fuji, Kikumaru, Oishi and Momo turn up mid-party. Ryuuzaki-sensei had told them where Ryoma was, they explain, and promptly laden him down with gifts. The others weren’t able to make it, but the four of them have brought presents from all of them. Ryoma’s made to open them all then and there, and discovers new tennis gear, medical tape, a bottle of Inui Juice (he offers it to his team, who refuse vehemently), vouchers for various shops, and a photo album.

“I’m in the photography club, you know,” Fuji tells him. Ryoma hums thoughtfully and flips to the first page. It’s a shot of all of them at the Nationals, just after winning. It’s funny; he hadn’t noticed Fuji with a camera then - though wait, Fuji’s in the picture, so he must have gotten someone else to take this one photo.

“The last photo came out particularly well,” Fuji says, and there’s something mischievous lurking in his smile. Ryoma’s about to turn to the last page when Fuji continues, “I was so surprised when I saw it, I just had to take a picture.”

Ryoma snaps the book shut and puts it in his bag with his other gifts. He’ll wait till he’s safely alone to find out what could put that look on Fuji’s face. Fuji looks mildly disappointed.

It’s nearly five by the time the impromptu celebration breaks up. It’s while Ryoma’s walking home slowly that he gets the message. Nine tonight. The usual place, it says, and Ryoma doesn’t even need to look at the sender to know who it’s from. He picks up his pace slightly; he wants a hot bath first if he’s going out again tonight.

His mother lets him go only because she’s heard plenty of stories about how reliable Tezuka is. Besides, Ryoma complains when she expresses hesitation over how late he’ll be getting back, he’s fifteen already, and he’s quite capable of taking care of himself. Before leaving, he glances through the photo album Fuji-senpai had given him. There are the expected photographs of him with his team, some of him alone, being tackled by Kikumaru and Momo, talking to Kaidoh, refusing a drink from Inui, sitting with Oishi and with Kawamura and with Tezuka, various candid shots, and one of him sleeping on the bus. Ryoma plots revenge for that one.

He turns to the last page with some trepidation and is baffled to see a perfectly normal photograph. It’s another shot taken at the Nationals, and practically the entire team is visible in it as they celebrate wildly. Ryoma’s near the centre of the picture, with Tezuka just beside him, watching him watch the team.

What, Ryoma wonders in confusion, is so startling about this picture? He traces the small, soft smile on Tezuka’s face with his finger as he thinks. There’s nothing explicitly surprising about the picture that Ryoma can see. Then he notices how idiotically proud he looks and groans quietly. Trust Fuji-senpai to find good blackmail material without even trying.

It’s still a nice photo, though. He wonders how he can ask for another copy to frame without embarrassing himself. Then he notices the time and puts the idea aside for later consideration. He’s going to be late again.

“Too cold to play,” Tezuka observes when Ryoma finally arrives at the courts. It’s a funny sort of greeting, Ryoma thinks wryly, but then it’s all that he’s ever needed. The two of them had never really needed to spell out what they were thinking for the other to understand. He wonders if it’s the same with the other regulars. Probably, he thinks, because after all, they’ve known him longer. It’s nice though, that even though Tezuka’s still so adult and sometimes aloof, he doesn’t seem so far away now. Doesn’t seem so lonely anymore.

“But on the other hand,” Ryoma counters. “Snow.”

Tezuka gifts him with a tiny smile. “True,” he agrees, and holds out a gloved hand. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Ryoma takes Tezuka’s hand, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Tezuka pulls him to his side and Ryoma realises that the top of his head now brushes Tezuka’s chin. It’s an odd moment for the realisation, but then Tezuka’s bending and whispering in his ear and it’s all he can do to keep from flushing a brilliant red.

“Yes,” he finally manages to say.

“Thank you,” Tezuka replies. “And by the way?”

Ryoma tilts his head to the side inquisitively, intimately aware of Tezuka’s hand still wrapped around his. “By the way?” he parrots.

“When you’re fully recovered, I want the first match,” Tezuka tells him. A slow smile spreads across Ryoma’s face. He nods, eyes drifting shut as he leans in to Tezuka’s warmth and imagines what it will be like to play him again, to stand across a net from him, to have overcome his injury and be playing his best. To be for Tezuka what Tezuka has always been for him.

His world narrows to the sound of the wind and the trains rushing by overhead and Tezuka’s heartbeat pulsing against his cheek, and somehow, things are perfect.

~fin

I'd love to hear theories as to what it is Tezuka tells Ryoma at the end. ^_~
C&C?


So I was flipping through some of the fanart I have saved on my computer, and I came across a series of pictures that I fell in love with (again). Unfortunately, I neglected to note which site these pictures were from (bad girl, bad) and so I'm asking for help. Here are a couple of the pictures - the style, I think is pretty distinctive. And just plain pretty.




Anyone know who did these pictures and where they're from?