Prince of Tennis: Tezuka Kunimitsu/Fuji Syusuke, Seven Deadly Sins: Wrath
Title: In Amor Veritas Part 5: Ira
Author: Reddwarfer
Rating: PG
Fandom/Pairing: TeniPuri: Tezuka/Fuji
Theme: Seven Deadly Sins: Wrath
Word Count: 284
Disclaimer: The owners of PoT own PoT. One line from 218. One line from 270
Setting down his racket, Tezuka chides himself for letting his anger get the better of him.
The racket should not be used to hurt others.
Isn't his tennis just an extension of his racket? Tezuka closes his eyes briefly, and denies to himself that this win is more than just a win.
His opponent is panting, having endured more than he can bear. Tezuka can hardly make himself care. He won.
Victory, no matter the cost.
Tezuka tries not to think about Fuji. Fuji dominates his thoughts more than he cares to admit, but he finds himself getting angry all over again.
He cocks his head, beckoning the next player to come forth. He picks up his racket again, and strums his fingers against the strings.
Victory, no matter the cost.
Ignoring the voice in the back of his mind telling him that he's wrong, he focuses on this new opponent. With his glasses hidden in his gym bag, he can pretend that the boy across from him has red eyes and black hair.
He blinks and a flash of Fuji laying helplessly on the ground, bruised and beaten, comes to him. Tezuka can almost imagine himself doing as his Senpai had done to him. Almost. His heart is beating erratically and his palms are damp with sweat. The anger he feels toward this faceless-masked opponent is nothing compared to what he feels toward himself. For not being there. He can practically feel it tremor through his skin. He wants to scream out, Never hurt Fuji, but he remains silent, as always.
The racket should not be used to hurt others.
Tezuka shakes his head, regains his concentration, and serves.
Author: Reddwarfer
Rating: PG
Fandom/Pairing: TeniPuri: Tezuka/Fuji
Theme: Seven Deadly Sins: Wrath
Word Count: 284
Disclaimer: The owners of PoT own PoT. One line from 218. One line from 270
Setting down his racket, Tezuka chides himself for letting his anger get the better of him.
The racket should not be used to hurt others.
Isn't his tennis just an extension of his racket? Tezuka closes his eyes briefly, and denies to himself that this win is more than just a win.
His opponent is panting, having endured more than he can bear. Tezuka can hardly make himself care. He won.
Victory, no matter the cost.
Tezuka tries not to think about Fuji. Fuji dominates his thoughts more than he cares to admit, but he finds himself getting angry all over again.
He cocks his head, beckoning the next player to come forth. He picks up his racket again, and strums his fingers against the strings.
Victory, no matter the cost.
Ignoring the voice in the back of his mind telling him that he's wrong, he focuses on this new opponent. With his glasses hidden in his gym bag, he can pretend that the boy across from him has red eyes and black hair.
He blinks and a flash of Fuji laying helplessly on the ground, bruised and beaten, comes to him. Tezuka can almost imagine himself doing as his Senpai had done to him. Almost. His heart is beating erratically and his palms are damp with sweat. The anger he feels toward this faceless-masked opponent is nothing compared to what he feels toward himself. For not being there. He can practically feel it tremor through his skin. He wants to scream out, Never hurt Fuji, but he remains silent, as always.
The racket should not be used to hurt others.
Tezuka shakes his head, regains his concentration, and serves.