[PoT] Reasons Why, PG, Humor, FujiRyo
Title: Reasons Why
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: FujiRyo
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Reasons why the Ryoma-sama Fanclub adores their idol so.
30_kisses theme: #10 number 10
Reasons Why
by meitachi
“R-Ryoma-kun,” stammered Sakuno, blushing. She twisted her hands in her skirt, heart pounding and eyes resting nervously on her idol, three years having done nothing to lessen her crush on the good-looking if socially-challenged tennis wonder.
Said tennis wonder ran right past her, frantic look in his golden eyes.
Tomoka followed hot on his heels, her trademark pigtails traded in for the cute bob in style now, a sheet of paper clutched in her hands. “Ryoooooma-saaama,” she caroled after him, dashing past her best friend. “You haven’t even heard number seven yet! NUMBER SEVEN,” she bellowed, suddenly raising her voice, and the after-school students in a fifty-meter radius cringed, “HE LOOKS REALLY SEXY WHEN HIS SHIRT FLIES UP DURING A TENNIS MATCH.”
“T-Tomo-chan!” Sakuno cried, flushing redder. “You shouldn’t embarrass Ryoma-kun like that!”
“NUMBER EIGHT: THE PANTING NOISES HE MAKES DURING TENNIS MATCHES COULD BE COPYRIGHTED AND SOLD AS AN APHRODISIAC.”
Sakuno trailed restlessly after her friend, shocked and horrified by Tomoka’s bluntness. High school had not cured either of them of their crush, but Tomoka’s had been flavored with the less-innocent aspects. From what Sakuno could see, Ryoma wasn’t taking it well. He was dashing for the tennis courts, bag bumping along on his back, and it looked as if he wouldn’t stop until he was safe and secure behind the locked doors of the club locker room.
“Tomo-chan,” Sakuno said worriedly again, picking up her pace.
“Ryoooma-saaama,” Tomoka cried out, skirt flying up behind her as she continued her pursuit, “Wait! There are three hundred and fifty-eight more reasons! One for each day of the year and an extra in case it’s a leap year.” She swerved swiftly around a group of staring second-years and a regular from the volleyball team, and ran on. “NUMBER NINE! THE LOOKS HE GIVES THE CAMERA WHEN FUJI-SENPAI TAKES A PICTURE OF HIM.”
Sakuno privately had to agree with that one, even as she stumbled into the girl from the volleyball team and bowed and apologized profusely. Fuji-senpai had won the school-wide competition sponsored by the well-established photography club, entitling his works to be displayed in the school’s main hall. His subject, to everyone’s surprise, had been one Echizen Ryoma, who had instantly become even more famous than he’d been already, and his fanclub had tripled in size, much to Tomoka’s delight, with girls frantic to worship that heavy-lidded gaze and dark, tousled hair and, oh, was it, could it possibly be, a hint of a rare smile on those lips.
Ryoma had not, to many people’s surprise, immediately demanded the pictures be taken down. Sakuno supposed it could be attributed to his apathy, because after three years, he still didn’t care about much other than tennis. Still, she’d caught him passing the display before and had seen something like a smile in those eyes again, fond and almost smug.
“RYOMA-SAMA, WAIT A SECOND!” Tomoka’s shout became slightly more desperate as Ryoma edged up his speed as the clubhouse came into view. “NUMBER TEN!” she cried, working her legs so hard to catch up to him that Sakuno lost view of them as they rounded a corner, “THE WAY HE PURRS INTO FUJI-SENPAI’S KISSES~!”
Sakuno rounded the corner then, panting, braids slapping against her back, and saw Ryoma flash Tomoka a wide-eyed look before sliding into the clubhouse and slamming the door behind him.
“Dammit,” gasped Tomoka, heaving for breath as Sakuno made her way to her friend’s side. “He wouldn’t wait.” She straightened and smoothed out the sheet of paper in her hands, a determined look on her face. “But he can still hear me!”
“Tomo-chan!” said Sakuno sharply. She flushed when Tomoka raised an eyebrow at her. “M-maybe Ryoma-kun doesn’t want you to say all these things so loudly.”
Tomoka scoffed. “Please, Sakuno. As the loyal and dedicated president of Ryoma-sama’s fanclub, I have a duty to let the world know all the things we love about Ryoma-sama. I mean, think about all the poor, uneducated girls out there!” She then cleared her throat and proceeded to carol down her list.
Inside the clubhouse, Ryoma quickly dropped his duffel bag and pulled out his uniform, changing rapidly under the teasing from Momoshiro and Eiji, both of whom had definitely not missed the loud proclamations of love and reasons why.
“Uwaa, Ochibi’s fanclub is so dedicated,” Eiji sang, grinning and rubbing Ryoma’s head. “Aren’t you proud?”
Ryoma gave him a disgruntled look.
“Saa, Eiji, don’t tease him.” Fuji’s mild reprimand had both Momoshiro and Eiji backing off quickly. He smiled at Ryoma and handed him his cap from where he was already dressed and seated gracefully on the bench. “You have to admit, Ryoma,” he murmured, a twinkle in his eye, “she has very good reasons.”
Ryoma accepted the hat with a scowl. “Whatever.”
“I’m especially fond of number ten, myself.”
Somehow, Ryoma didn’t find himself exceedingly surprised. “Let’s go,” he said instead of blushing, a habit he’d almost manage to get a hold of after two years of dating Fuji. Racket in hand, Fuji behind him, Momo and Eiji snickering by the lockers, he exited the clubhouse.
“NUMBER TWENTY-TWO: THE WAY HIS LIPS LOOK AFTER HE DRINKS CHERRY PONTA INSTEAD OF GRAPE.”
Ryoma lowered his head and growled, ducking behind Fuji.
An arm slid around him even as Fuji chuckled and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss to the top of his head.
“NUMBER TWENTY-THREE! THE WAY HIS LIPS LOOK AFTER FUJI-SENPAI IS THROUGH WITH HIM!”
Well, it looked like he hadn’t completely outgrown that blushing thing.
--
Posted: 07.26.2005
--
Notes: Have I mentioned that I love Tomoka? She's such an utterly fantastic fangirl, unlike some people who stand around and stammer and blush and are generally useless. We don't know anyone like that though, do we? Nah, of course not. So join me in waving those Ryoma-sama ♥ flags! Fuji approves, as long as we don't touch.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: FujiRyo
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Reasons why the Ryoma-sama Fanclub adores their idol so.
30_kisses theme: #10 number 10
Reasons Why
by meitachi
“R-Ryoma-kun,” stammered Sakuno, blushing. She twisted her hands in her skirt, heart pounding and eyes resting nervously on her idol, three years having done nothing to lessen her crush on the good-looking if socially-challenged tennis wonder.
Said tennis wonder ran right past her, frantic look in his golden eyes.
Tomoka followed hot on his heels, her trademark pigtails traded in for the cute bob in style now, a sheet of paper clutched in her hands. “Ryoooooma-saaama,” she caroled after him, dashing past her best friend. “You haven’t even heard number seven yet! NUMBER SEVEN,” she bellowed, suddenly raising her voice, and the after-school students in a fifty-meter radius cringed, “HE LOOKS REALLY SEXY WHEN HIS SHIRT FLIES UP DURING A TENNIS MATCH.”
“T-Tomo-chan!” Sakuno cried, flushing redder. “You shouldn’t embarrass Ryoma-kun like that!”
“NUMBER EIGHT: THE PANTING NOISES HE MAKES DURING TENNIS MATCHES COULD BE COPYRIGHTED AND SOLD AS AN APHRODISIAC.”
Sakuno trailed restlessly after her friend, shocked and horrified by Tomoka’s bluntness. High school had not cured either of them of their crush, but Tomoka’s had been flavored with the less-innocent aspects. From what Sakuno could see, Ryoma wasn’t taking it well. He was dashing for the tennis courts, bag bumping along on his back, and it looked as if he wouldn’t stop until he was safe and secure behind the locked doors of the club locker room.
“Tomo-chan,” Sakuno said worriedly again, picking up her pace.
“Ryoooma-saaama,” Tomoka cried out, skirt flying up behind her as she continued her pursuit, “Wait! There are three hundred and fifty-eight more reasons! One for each day of the year and an extra in case it’s a leap year.” She swerved swiftly around a group of staring second-years and a regular from the volleyball team, and ran on. “NUMBER NINE! THE LOOKS HE GIVES THE CAMERA WHEN FUJI-SENPAI TAKES A PICTURE OF HIM.”
Sakuno privately had to agree with that one, even as she stumbled into the girl from the volleyball team and bowed and apologized profusely. Fuji-senpai had won the school-wide competition sponsored by the well-established photography club, entitling his works to be displayed in the school’s main hall. His subject, to everyone’s surprise, had been one Echizen Ryoma, who had instantly become even more famous than he’d been already, and his fanclub had tripled in size, much to Tomoka’s delight, with girls frantic to worship that heavy-lidded gaze and dark, tousled hair and, oh, was it, could it possibly be, a hint of a rare smile on those lips.
Ryoma had not, to many people’s surprise, immediately demanded the pictures be taken down. Sakuno supposed it could be attributed to his apathy, because after three years, he still didn’t care about much other than tennis. Still, she’d caught him passing the display before and had seen something like a smile in those eyes again, fond and almost smug.
“RYOMA-SAMA, WAIT A SECOND!” Tomoka’s shout became slightly more desperate as Ryoma edged up his speed as the clubhouse came into view. “NUMBER TEN!” she cried, working her legs so hard to catch up to him that Sakuno lost view of them as they rounded a corner, “THE WAY HE PURRS INTO FUJI-SENPAI’S KISSES~!”
Sakuno rounded the corner then, panting, braids slapping against her back, and saw Ryoma flash Tomoka a wide-eyed look before sliding into the clubhouse and slamming the door behind him.
“Dammit,” gasped Tomoka, heaving for breath as Sakuno made her way to her friend’s side. “He wouldn’t wait.” She straightened and smoothed out the sheet of paper in her hands, a determined look on her face. “But he can still hear me!”
“Tomo-chan!” said Sakuno sharply. She flushed when Tomoka raised an eyebrow at her. “M-maybe Ryoma-kun doesn’t want you to say all these things so loudly.”
Tomoka scoffed. “Please, Sakuno. As the loyal and dedicated president of Ryoma-sama’s fanclub, I have a duty to let the world know all the things we love about Ryoma-sama. I mean, think about all the poor, uneducated girls out there!” She then cleared her throat and proceeded to carol down her list.
Inside the clubhouse, Ryoma quickly dropped his duffel bag and pulled out his uniform, changing rapidly under the teasing from Momoshiro and Eiji, both of whom had definitely not missed the loud proclamations of love and reasons why.
“Uwaa, Ochibi’s fanclub is so dedicated,” Eiji sang, grinning and rubbing Ryoma’s head. “Aren’t you proud?”
Ryoma gave him a disgruntled look.
“Saa, Eiji, don’t tease him.” Fuji’s mild reprimand had both Momoshiro and Eiji backing off quickly. He smiled at Ryoma and handed him his cap from where he was already dressed and seated gracefully on the bench. “You have to admit, Ryoma,” he murmured, a twinkle in his eye, “she has very good reasons.”
Ryoma accepted the hat with a scowl. “Whatever.”
“I’m especially fond of number ten, myself.”
Somehow, Ryoma didn’t find himself exceedingly surprised. “Let’s go,” he said instead of blushing, a habit he’d almost manage to get a hold of after two years of dating Fuji. Racket in hand, Fuji behind him, Momo and Eiji snickering by the lockers, he exited the clubhouse.
“NUMBER TWENTY-TWO: THE WAY HIS LIPS LOOK AFTER HE DRINKS CHERRY PONTA INSTEAD OF GRAPE.”
Ryoma lowered his head and growled, ducking behind Fuji.
An arm slid around him even as Fuji chuckled and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss to the top of his head.
“NUMBER TWENTY-THREE! THE WAY HIS LIPS LOOK AFTER FUJI-SENPAI IS THROUGH WITH HIM!”
Well, it looked like he hadn’t completely outgrown that blushing thing.
--
Posted: 07.26.2005
--
Notes: Have I mentioned that I love Tomoka? She's such an utterly fantastic fangirl, unlike some people who stand around and stammer and blush and are generally useless. We don't know anyone like that though, do we? Nah, of course not. So join me in waving those Ryoma-sama ♥ flags! Fuji approves, as long as we don't touch.