[pot_challenge] Semi-colon; ZukaFuji; PG; Romance; One-shot
Title: Semi-Colon
Author: Hanabi Reeza [aoireeza]
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Pairing: TezuFuji
Word Count: 238 words
Diclaimers: TeniPuri isn't mine. It belongs to Konomi-sensei.
Summary: Tennis has always involved two people. That is an established fact.
Semi-Colon
Tezuka Kunimitsu is tennis made perfect.
He serves in a slow yet sure manner so as to be absolutely sure that he’ll get the point he so deserves. He returns a serve according to his calculations so that the ball lands where he wants it to land. He glides across the court with absolute precision, grace, and dignity. There is no room, not even a margin, for error. Everything must be systematic, precise, calculated.
Fuji Syusuke is tennis. Period.
He is every meaning of mystery. His eyes are shut tight as he plays. His strokes are tricky - it might seem like a miscalculation well in fact it is a well devised scheme. Yes, he plays with the same grace as Tezuka’s, only that Fuji allows a margin for error. Or so people think.
When they face each other on court, their worlds crumble and tennis isn’t merely a game, nor is it epitomized by a person. It becomes their life.
And at the end of the match, when the referee finally declares Tezuka as the winner, Fuji just smiles and approaches Tezuka and extends his hand. Tezuka looks at Fuji’s hand, holds his own hand out with much hesitation, and finally resolves to making contact with the warmth that he has long been longing for.
When Tezuka and Fuji play tennis, it isn’t about winning or losing, nor is it about proving something to someone.
It’s about them.
Author: Hanabi Reeza [aoireeza]
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Pairing: TezuFuji
Word Count: 238 words
Diclaimers: TeniPuri isn't mine. It belongs to Konomi-sensei.
Summary: Tennis has always involved two people. That is an established fact.
Semi-Colon
Tezuka Kunimitsu is tennis made perfect.
He serves in a slow yet sure manner so as to be absolutely sure that he’ll get the point he so deserves. He returns a serve according to his calculations so that the ball lands where he wants it to land. He glides across the court with absolute precision, grace, and dignity. There is no room, not even a margin, for error. Everything must be systematic, precise, calculated.
Fuji Syusuke is tennis. Period.
He is every meaning of mystery. His eyes are shut tight as he plays. His strokes are tricky - it might seem like a miscalculation well in fact it is a well devised scheme. Yes, he plays with the same grace as Tezuka’s, only that Fuji allows a margin for error. Or so people think.
When they face each other on court, their worlds crumble and tennis isn’t merely a game, nor is it epitomized by a person. It becomes their life.
And at the end of the match, when the referee finally declares Tezuka as the winner, Fuji just smiles and approaches Tezuka and extends his hand. Tezuka looks at Fuji’s hand, holds his own hand out with much hesitation, and finally resolves to making contact with the warmth that he has long been longing for.
When Tezuka and Fuji play tennis, it isn’t about winning or losing, nor is it about proving something to someone.
It’s about them.