Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Hourglasses ❯ Reality's Unreality ( Chapter 1 )

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Hourglasses

 

Chapter I

 

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Tezuka was sure he was in a dream.

 

It was cold out, the gusty wind blowing through the bare trees and making their branches sway gently in the air. The sky was an eerie cold blue and the same description could be used to describe how Tezuka felt. He was numb. He didn't quite know what to think when Ryoma posed his question at the café. So his automatic response came out, “All right.” It was a strange occurrence and one that Tezuka would never forget. Ryoma beamed at him while everyone else's reactions ranged through different degrees of confusion and excitement. Tezuka still didn't know what to feel.

 

He had been sitting on the swing for a while now, trying to gather his thoughts. Ryoma sat directly beside him, swinging slowly back and forth. Even this action proved to be hypnotizing, thus furthering the conception Tezuka had of being in a dream. But he knew he wasn't—for a deep sense of confusion and doubt was lodged firmly at the bottom of his stomach, protesting violently against the wishful fantasies of his mind.

 

It had been a nice afternoon, though, despite everything. This Tezuka could not deny.

 

“Did you have fun?” inquired Ryoma suddenly, facing Tezuka, twisting his seat around in doing so.

 

Tezuka blinked once. “Yes,” he answered simply, almost without a hint of hesitation. Such was his disposition. He was confused about Ryoma's intentions, yes, but he was in perfect harmony with his own.

 

The golden-eyed man smiled cheekily. “Good,” he promptly replied, seemingly satisfied.

 

They then went back to their companionable silence. Tezuka thought to himself for a bit before finally deciding against what his mind told him. As a rule of thumb, he usually stayed clear from asking questions—he was never quite so involved with something or someone to be so inquisitive. But this was something new. One could almost say Ryoma had imposed this situation on him. There was nothing Tezuka could do but ask—or just suffer from the constant wondering of his mind. And he was sure Ryoma had done this on purpose. The latter could prove to be someone even Fuji would have some intimidation of.

 

“Echizen,” he began in a bland tone. Ryoma cast him a sidelong glance. “Why did you ask me out?”

 

Ryoma's face was devoid of any facial quirks, but Tezuka could practically see the younger man smirking mentally. It was an accomplishment for anyone when Tezuka was the one to ask the questions.

 

“Hmm…I wonder,” commented Ryoma airily before shrugging. “Does it bother you?”

 

Now it seemed their roles were back to normal. This was a routine Tezuka was accustomed to—answering people's questions. But Ryoma's was an odd one. Throughout all his contemplation of the situation he had failed to address the subject of his own feelings. Tezuka remained silent for a while. He was not particularly bothered by Ryoma asking him out. He was simply curious. Out of all the people in the world that Ryoma was sure to have known, why did he choose Tezuka? The latter did not understand at all.

 

“It doesn't bother me,” he said finally.

 

Ryoma looked at him again, an amused expression on his face. “Still just as straightforward as ever, Buchou,” he remarked. He then stood up and stretched slowly before facing Tezuka wonderingly. “Now…what should we do?”

 

Tezuka stood up as well. “When do you need to be home?” he inquired.

 

An arched eyebrow greeted him. “What? I'm not twelve anymore, Buchou,” he reminded the older man with some scorn.

 

For once Tezuka was caught off guard. “Yes…,” he murmured, as if just realizing this fact. He then nodded curtly. “Then what do you suggest?”

 

“I have this game I've been wanting to buy. Is that all right?”

 

“It's fine.”

 

So the two began heading out of the park, walking side by side. Tezuka still could not comprehend the strangeness of the situation. He had always considered Ryoma a friend, and someone he could relate to on some levels. He never imagined the possibility of this ever occurring. Inui's own bafflement on the issue was precisely the way he felt. It was illogical, yet Ryoma continued on without a single care. It was typical of him, yes, but Tezuka thought that he would at least be more expressive of his own thoughts on such a serious topic. It seemed, however, Ryoma would keep his intentions until he felt the need to divulge them.

 

Now this Tezuka could understand. He himself was very much the same way, though not nearly as playful and mischievous as Ryoma. He did see why Ryoma was hiding his true motives, though. In a situation like this it was easy to lose everything in a single instant. The risks were high. But Tezuka was willing to play along for now. There was no harm in doing so.

 

They reached a crowded street. Even despite the below zero temperature, people swarmed through the area like bees, going in and out of stores. Tezuka watched them all for a moment before Ryoma proceeded in leading him to a small corner store where he could clearly see numerous amounts of games and television sets in the display window. He stared at the store sign for a bit, faintly thinking to himself on how he had never been in this kind of place. Ryoma took this expression in with a small smile on his face before pushing Tezuka through the door.

 

Instant warmth greeted both of them, and Tezuka suddenly remembered how cold he had been. The store's heat restored some feeling back in his hands and he took off his gloves with some appreciation. Ryoma made a beeline to the back and Tezuka followed, staring at the ads and merchandise with something akin to amazement. Video games were never his forte—the one time he had played was against Kawamura and it was some sort of fighting game. Needless to say Tezuka had lost miserably. Momoshiro and the others laughed at him for about five minutes straight. It was one thing to have good coordination in tennis, but good eye-hand coordination in video games was something Tezuka couldn't quite handle with the same deftness.

 

“Is this boring you? We can go to a bookstore afterwards.”

 

Tezuka snapped out of his reverie and looked at Ryoma, who had a small plastic bag in hand. “No, it's fine—” he began before Ryoma pulled him out of the store by the wrist. His eyes widened in surprise by this forceful gesture. “Echizen!”

 

Ryoma turned around with a grin. “Look,” he said before they came to an abrupt halt.

 

Tezuka glanced upwards and saw that they were standing outside of a bookstore, right beside the store they had just come from. A slight feeling of amusement rose within him, almost making him smile. Ryoma could read the gratefulness in his eyes, though.

 

“What books do you read anyway?” he asked interestedly as they walked through the entrance.

 

Tezuka gazed across the bookshelves of potential reading material for a moment before answering. “Classics. Shakespeare, Chaucer, everything. Besides those I also like reading nonfiction works,” he replied as he began walking down the first aisle.

 

Ryoma raised an eyebrow and scrutinized the books around them. “These are mysteries,” he pointed out dryly.

 

“I sometimes digress from my usual tastes,” answered Tezuka with a light smile.

 

“Is that so? Hmm… Oh, look it's Holmes. I knew he'd be here somewhere,” murmured Ryoma as he crouched down to the floor to pull out a thick book. He flipped through it offhandedly before glancing up at Tezuka. “I never did like mysteries.”

 

Tezuka looked at Ryoma calmly. The latter continued.

 

“Too much suspense and wondering. I think Inui and Fuji would like them, though. I prefer horror and fantasy more.”

 

Tezuka smiled as the young man straightened up and placed his hands in his pockets, casually leaning against a pole. Ryoma's preferences were something that always created some fun for everyone. The latter was generally indifferent towards everything—but when it came down to certain things that he did like—he liked them in that specific way. No one could change his mind. It made Momoshiro and Kikumaru often rage in frustration on his unshakable obstinacy.

 

“Why's that?”

 

A lazy look was thrown in Tezuka's direction. “Horror gives you a true perspective of the ugly side of humanity. And fantasy just gives your imagination some fuel,” he replied. He then glanced at the book in Tezuka's hand. “I read that when I was in elementary school back in New York. It was long—long and boring.”

 

Tezuka looked down at the book in his hand with a faint impression of humor. “Oh? Should I choose another one then?” he inquired.

 

“Why don't we head over to the romance section?” suggested Ryoma. Tezuka stared at him mildly. The amber-eyed man shrugged. “I sometimes digress from my usual tastes.”

 

The usage of Tezuka's words own amused him, but he did not show it. Instead the older man allowed Ryoma to once again take the lead. The romance section proved to be much more plentiful than the mystery section. Tezuka eyed the books down, looking for anything to catch his eye. He then caught glimpse of a relatively small book and pulled it out from the shelf. It was the title that caught his interest.

 

“`The Great Gatsby'? That was a good book,” came Ryoma's voice from behind him.

 

Tezuka turned around, his eyes alighted with laughter. “Did you read every book here?” he queried.

 

Ryoma arched an eyebrow. “What? I'm not that bored. I read that one with my tutor while I was in America. I liked it. Romance, but definitely with a lot more depth and hidden meanings,” he replied smoothly.

 

“Hmm,” murmured Tezuka as he skimmed through the book. He then took it under his arm and continued to search through the shelves. Ryoma smiled.

 

It was odd, this “date.” This was the first thought that crept into Tezuka's mind. In actuality it seemed more like they were just going out as two friends. But Tezuka had to remind himself that this indeed was a date. Ryoma just wasn't the type to go all out with dinner and a movie or anything extravagant. His simplicity charmed Tezuka, though. Had it been anything more spectacular he may have felt a bit suffocated. Ryoma knew him well—better than he would have originally thought considering all those years the former spent in America. Either Ryoma grew more perceptive of other people's behavioral patterns or Tezuka was simply predictable. He had a hunch it was probably a mixture of both.

 

“Would you mind if I asked you out again?”

 

Tezuka paused in his scan of book titles and leaned back to look at Ryoma. The latter stared down at him nonchalantly. Tezuka smiled briefly and stood up. “No—but on one condition,” he started. At Ryoma's raised glance, he continued. “You tell me why you chose me.”

 

“Didn't you ask this before? I don't know,” responded Ryoma, folding back his arms behind his head. He remained silent for a short while before finally shrugging. “Since when did anyone need a reason for liking someone? They just do. I just decided to do something about it.”

 

Ryoma's words were said bluntly and with hardly any reassurance, but Tezuka understood his message. Years of watching over the young man as a student and player gave him experience in reading those casual responses he gave out so freely.

 

“Fine, that's acceptable,” he replied shortly as he headed over to the register. Tezuka could see a flash of surprise cross Ryoma's face before he covered it up.

 

When they left the store, both Tezuka and Ryoma felt their hearts lighten up considerably since the beginning of the day. It was as if an unspoken connection was made between the two and they were now allowed to be more relaxed in the other's presence. There was little catching up to do. Both of them knew each other's characters well enough to not be surprised by anything the other posed. On the other hand, despite being somewhat similar to each other, they were not so much to the point where they could get bored easily.

 

Tezuka knew Ryoma's quiet side, his sense of honor and pride, and the sharp tongue he possessed. What Ryoma knew about the former captain was his determination, his scholarly preferences, and some of the hidden emotions Tezuka kept behind his mask. They both didn't know how to be casual around each other, though. Perhaps this was the reason why Ryoma had gone off to do something he knew Tezuka was comfortable with—to achieve a sort of easy atmosphere. If that was the case then he had exceeded in doing this and much more.

 

“Buchou… Can I call you by your first name?”

 

The older man glanced to the side and saw Ryoma looking at him with a smirk. The question had been asked innocently—too innocently. Tezuka knew what Ryoma was thinking. “I think we've both known each other long enough to call the other by his first name,” he replied lightly.

 

A rare, short laugh was issued from Ryoma that made his pale face glow. “Heh. All right then,” he commented, his eyes silently congratulating Tezuka for his unforeseen wit.

 

The two walked on in companionable silence. It would come as a shock to any stranger passing them by to find out they were actually supposed to be on a date. Tezuka and Ryoma didn't walk far apart from each other—it was just the fact that they both held impassive expressions that could have indicated boredom. It would almost appear as if they didn't even know each other if it weren't for Ryoma occasionally saying something, causing Tezuka to nod in agreement.

 

They had passed by the park again. That had been their original meeting place. Tezuka wondered thoughtfully to himself on how in just a matter of a few hours how deep he had managed to entangle himself with Ryoma. The younger man was undoubtedly very good at achieving his goals. It was slightly perturbing, but Ryoma was not the type to gloat or act overbearing—something Tezuka was grateful for.

 

He agreed to continue going out with Ryoma because he was curious. If the latter saw something in him that he liked then perhaps he could do the same back. Tezuka was not much for romantic relationships—he barely had any experience. He had gone out on a few dates, though most were orchestrated by Kikumaru and Momoshiro—through deceit nonetheless—but they weren't all bad. The idea of going out with other men never really crossed his mind. He wasn't bothered by it, though. In fact Ryoma was probably the first person to ever get this close to Tezuka. This unnerved him slightly, but in a somewhat reassuring manner. He knew Ryoma would never take advantage of this fact. The latter simply wasn't like that.

 

Love. It was a strange word for Tezuka. He never experienced it, nor did he ever plan to—at least not yet. But Ryoma was always known as the wild card. Tezuka didn't think he would fall in love with him. It was too soon for anything like that. But this sort of outing was not bad. In a way they were still exploring each other's personalities. And Tezuka had said before he sometimes digressed from his usual tastes. Ryoma was a mystery. He could afford some time now to find out what lied beneath the façade. The same could be said for Ryoma. They were similar—they knew each other well—yet there were still many factors and issues that neither knew how to address the other with. And that would be the point of intrigue.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

Ryoma shot Tezuka an openly surprised expression before smiling wickedly. “You're used to feeding people aren't you?” he remarked wryly.

 

Tezuka didn't even need to answer that rhetorical question. He had Momoshiro as a friend for quite a few years now. He took up the appetite of three people. Fortunately Tezuka never spent too much time with him alone—but he always brought extra money now for precaution.

 

“There's a diner up ahead,” he pointed out.

 

Ryoma shrugged. “Okay,” he replied.

 

The diner was a quaint place with small booths and an American 50's theme. The waiters and waitresses wore old uniforms and even the food was cheaper. Tezuka had eaten here on a few occasions with the others. At the moment the diner was crowded since it was nearing dinner but the two had manage to acquire a private booth to themselves. After ordering their meals they sat quietly. Tezuka stared out the window, peacefully watching the outside world as small snowflakes began falling from the sky. In a matter of a few minutes the snow had managed to coat everything and everyone with a thin coat of white.

 

“I always liked winter in Japan the most,” quipped Ryoma quietly. “In New York the snow melts so quickly and really is only beautiful during the first few hours. Afterwards it becomes nothing but dirty slush.”

 

There was some scorn in his tone, but Tezuka could detect a bit of longing. “Do you miss your home?” he inquired.

 

Ryoma gave a small shrug. “I suppose. Tokyo is similar to it—but there's nothing like walking down Times Square at night,” he replied, smiling fondly to himself.

 

“You didn't leave America just for me,” stated Tezuka suddenly.

 

Ryoma blinked owlishly. “No, I didn't,” he agreed slowly. He stretched his arms back and eyed Tezuka. “Tennis is great. I love it. But there really aren't any more good opponents. And besides…tennis isn't living.”

 

These were words that Tezuka never expected to hear from Ryoma. It came as a shock—something even more sudden than him returning to Japan. But when he thought about it carefully, he could see where Ryoma's thoughts were going. Professional tennis was different from just playing tennis for fun. Pros loved their sport naturally, but the pressure and constant media could amount intolerably. It was hard sometimes to wonder if you were playing for yourself or for the world. The tone in Ryoma's voice was strange—almost bitter. Perhaps he too had experienced the joys and sorrows of being a renowned figure known across the globe.

 

“I never thought you would be like your father,” remarked Tezuka.

 

Ryoma caught the undertone of humor and gave a mock scowl. “Excuse me, but I actually did go to the top and stayed there for quite some time. That damn father of mine gave up even before that,” he pointed out.

 

Tezuka gave a half smile. “That is true,” he said.

 

Then their dinner arrived. For half an hour they ate on with few remarks exchanged. In the end, with Tezuka's insistence, he paid for the meal and they were out again. The night sky was dark but the full moon was out. Tezuka and Ryoma walked slowly to take in the refreshing air and soft falling snow. This was more so like a dream than what Tezuka felt during the day. Their quiet treading echoed across the empty neighborhood as they journeyed out of the loud and bright mainstream, steady and unobtrusive. The lampposts lighted up around them, casting a warm light that gave everything an unearthly glow. Tezuka breathed out slowly, watching the warm vapor freeze in the cold air.

 

“I'll walk you home,” he said.

 

“You don't have to.”

 

“It's my duty.”

 

At Ryoma's questioning gaze, Tezuka decided to clarify his point. “It's the least I can do. Besides, I am still older than you,” he explained.

 

Ryoma gave a small grunt that sounded suspiciously like a disguised snort, but he shrugged carelessly as he looked back at Tezuka. “If you want to,” he said.

 

Tezuka had been by Ryoma's home a few times in the past. It was a rather odd place to be living in, but it was nonetheless relatively large for only four people. In the quiet presence of the night it stood out even more outstandingly than ever before. Some of the lights inside were lit, indicating the presence of Ryoma's family. Tezuka walked him up to the front door and watched as the younger man slid the door open, pausing at the doorway before he went in.

 

“Shall I call you then?” he remarked, his trademark smirk in place.

 

This time it was Tezuka who shrugged. “Do as you please,” he replied.

 

Ryoma's expression softened and Tezuka marveled at how the light made his skin appear almost ethereally. “Then I'll see you tomorrow, Kunimitsu,” he said, a sincere smile on his lips this time.

 

His name rolled off his tongue effortlessly—and it didn't sound out of place in Tezuka's ears.

 

“See you then…Ryoma,” he replied slowly.

 

The amber-eyed man gave him one last smirk before venturing inside. Tezuka turned around and began walking back in the other direction. It had been a good day.

 

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TBC

 

Yes, so there's no real romance yet. It'll be a gradual thing. ^^;; Me, write a fast romance? Ha, now that's almost impossible.

 

Random Note: We finally had a winter storm in New York! This in the city is something so goddamn rare it's not even funny.

 

And thanks to those who reviewed the prologue. I hope you like this first installment as well. I pray neither of them are too out of character. >.< If they are, bear with me for a bit. I'll get them straightened out eventually. (Hopefully, maybe, perhaps?)