Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Hourglasses ❯ Rematch ( Chapter 3 )

Hourglasses

 

Chapter III

 

A day with Atobe Keigo was an interesting one. This much Tezuka could attest to. The man was extravagant, flamboyant, and did everything with an extra flair. He was surprisingly calm and normal, however, despite the luxuriousness of his actions. Tezuka had never spent an entire day being driven around the town in a limo, being waited on hand and foot like some kind of royal subject. Atobe had been an amazingly good sport about it, and had not teased him as was expected. In fact, if Tezuka had to be honest, their time together was not altogether unpleasant.

 

This opinion and lack of any protesting to Atobe's advances was probably what made the latter move in swiftly on him at the end of their day to snatch a surreptitious kiss when he was looking the other way. Tezuka had been stunned—too stunned in fact to properly react when Atobe pulled away with a saucy wink before strolling away swaggeringly. Afterwards Tezuka had meandered around his house for a while, pretending to study with his textbook in hand, but really wondering what in the world had just transpired between him and Atobe.

 

“Kunimitsu! Syusuke's on the phone.”

 

Tezuka took the phone in the kitchen. It was after dinner and all other occupants of the house were going about with their own activities, leaving him with the freedom of being alone as he took a seat by the empty table. He looked out the garden as he picked up the receiver from its cradle.

 

“Hello,” he greeted mildly. He heard a distant click in the background that signified his mother's disconnection of the other phone.

 

“You had an interesting day,” stated Fuji as a matter-of-factly.

 

“What?”

 

Tezuka blinked. There had been enough surprises in this day already. He wasn't sure if he was ready to handle Fuji's remarks entirely.

 

A laugh was sounded on the other end. “You know Inui. When he spotted you and Atobe together, he immediately called everyone else,” he explained.

 

Tezuka narrowed his eyes. “Did you do anything else?” he inquired.

 

“Oh, don't worry, Tezuka. We aren't in junior high anymore. We've all outgrown those spying tendencies—though I'm not too sure I can fully back up Eiji with that.”

 

Silence.

 

“So…how did it go?”

 

“Fuji,” warned Tezuka.

 

“As a friend, Tezuka, I am obligated to know. I'm just worried about you, that's all.”

 

There was something all too innocent about the way Fuji was speaking. Tezuka recognized that tone of voice, and knew not to believe Fuji completely. But the latter was speaking the truth—no matter how tainted it might have been with ulterior motives. However, Fuji had never teased Tezuka about relationships, and was probably the most reliable one out of his friends to go to for advice besides Oishi. The dark-haired man gave a sigh.

 

“It wasn't bad,” he admitted.

 

“Oh? Interesting,” remarked Fuji, allowing a glimmer of his surprise to show through.

 

Tezuka stared out the glass door leading to his backyard to see the full moon hanging in the midnight blue sky in all its glory. “He's changed somewhat. He's still arrogant and overbearing, but he's learned something of subtlety. It was strange to experience that firsthand,” he said.

 

“Hmm…a character study made by Tezuka Kunimitsu—now that certainly is rare.”

 

“Fuji.”

 

The other man chuckled. “I don't mean it as an insult, Tezuka. It's just not common for you to comment on people's behavior. Sometimes even I forget that you do perceive things,” he replied.

 

Tezuka frowned slightly. “That was a bit harsh,” he pointed out dryly.

 

Another laugh. Tezuka wondered faintly to himself how he managed to acquire such a friend like Fuji.

 

“I do in a way envy you, Tezuka.”

 

This statement surprised him. To Tezuka there was nothing appealing about his situation. He felt like a caged animal on display while Atobe and Ryoma played the two bidders competing for ownership. It was somewhat stifling and discomforting.

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

“Well…at least you know for a fact that you have two very good candidates fighting for you. It is flattering no matter what you may think now.”

 

“I feel too suffocated right now to be thinking of flattery,” remarked Tezuka.

 

“Ah, but that's because it's only the beginning. Give it some time and I'm sure your opinion will change. But the real question is…which one will you pick?”

 

Tezuka didn't need to even think of his answer. “I don't have time for romance, Fuji,” he stated resolutely.

 

“Really, Tezuka. Love isn't something you can just predict or deny. If and when it hits you, all your reasons will go flying out the window. And it's not like Atobe and Echizen will really prevent you from doing anything. I think they might actually help.”

 

This was Fuji logic speaking now. And Fuji logic was something that Tezuka was not in the mood for.

 

“I have to study, Fuji.”

 

“Well…all right. Just remember, though, you can't go through life without experiencing the thrill of love at least once.”

 

And with that enigmatic message, Fuji hung up with a click. Tezuka stared at his phone before cradling it silently and walking back to his room for some meditation.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“How about a match?”

 

It was with some surprise that the next afternoon Tezuka opened his door to find Ryoma waiting for him with his tennis equipment in his old Seigaku case.

 

“I—”

 

“Oh, Kunimitsu! Who's this?”

 

Tezuka's mother had burst in the scene with a warm smile directed at Ryoma. She then looked at her son. “Is this your friend?” she inquired.

 

“Yes,” replied Tezuka with some difficulty as he watched his mother again smile and proceed in guiding Ryoma into the house.

 

“Well, you mustn't leave him standing at the doorway, Kunimitsu,” his mother admonished lightly before looking at Ryoma. “And it's so rare that a new face comes by for a visit! What's your name?”

 

Ryoma smirked lightly in Tezuka's direction before bowing respectfully at his mother. “Echizen Ryoma—pleased to meet you,” he greeted.

 

Tezuka's mother looked at Ryoma with some surprise. “Echizen…Ryoma? Didn't you used to be on Seigaku's team?” she asked curiously.

 

Ryoma nodded. Suddenly the older woman clapped her hands and looked at Tezuka.

 

“Were you about to go out, Kunimitsu? I'm so sorry.”

 

Tezuka shook his head. “No, I—” he began.

 

“We were thinking of heading to the courts,” cut in Ryoma politely with a smile.

 

“Is that so? Well, it's good for you to get some exercise into your schedule, Kunimitsu. You've been doing so much studying. And it's been a while since you've played tennis, no?”

 

Tezuka remained silent, but was shooting a dangerous look in Ryoma's way as the latter chuckled at his mother's words. Then Ryoma glanced at Tezuka and smiled knowingly.

 

“Fuji told me about how much you were pushing yourself. He suggested you take a break,” he said with mock concern. Only Tezuka could read through the younger man's tone. His mother, however, was delighted.

 

“Oh, Kunimitsu, you have such a caring friends. You should go out and relax a bit. I'll go get your equipment!”

 

And with that Tezuka's mother shuffled up the stairs, leaving Tezuka alone with a smug Ryoma. After a few moments, the older man gave a sigh and looked at Ryoma with some exasperation written in his usually unreadable face.

 

“You didn't need to do that,” he remarked.

 

Ryoma shrugged. “You would have continued studying if I hadn't. Besides, from what I've heard you've been studying too much. Keep that up and you won't be able to remember anything for your exam,” he pointed out.

 

Tezuka narrowed his eyes. “Fuji suggested this didn't he?” he queried.

 

An amused smile spread over Ryoma's face. “I did mention him before, no?” he retorted.

 

It seemed as if Fuji had gained a new apprentice. And now Tezuka would have to endure both of their scheming minds. He regarded the amber-eyed man in front of him warily. Before he could say anything more, however, his mother returned with his tennis case. She handed it over to Tezuka along with his coat while she guided both him and Ryoma out the door.

 

“Now have fun you two!” she chirped brightly before closing the door on them.

 

Ryoma stared at the closed entranceway and shot a sidelong glance at Tezuka. “Although I didn't expect your mother to be in on the conspiracy as well,” he added dryly.

 

Tezuka closed his eyes. “She and the rest of my family think I've been pushing myself too hard,” he said quietly.

 

Suddenly Tezuka felt a pressure on his shoulders and he looked over to see Ryoma's arm draped over him lazily. The latter was eyeing him darkly. “One game, Kunimitsu,” he all but purred into Tezuka's ear.

 

The older man found himself extremely disturbed by the closeness between them and began walking ahead briskly without a word. Ryoma allowed his arm to drop and watched Tezuka with a faint smile.

 

“I hope you've been practicing. It'll be boring if I beat you too easily,” he called out as he caught up to Tezuka. He lingered behind him and observed the man's shoulders tense noticeably.

 

Ryoma finally walked up to Tezuka's side and peaked over at him curiously. “You seem to be in a rush,” he commented idly.

 

“The sooner we get this over with the sooner I can get back,” came the tight response.

 

A miffed expression came over Ryoma's face before he shook his head.

 

“And people tell me I have a one-tracked mind.”

 

He then stopped at the end of the block and Tezuka paused briefly to gaze at him in confusion. Ryoma gestured to his right.

 

“It's winter, Tezuka. There's no way we're playing in the public courts,” he explained before leading the way. “We're going to my house. We recently enclosed the court.”

 

For a moment Tezuka stared at the man incredulously as he grasped onto what he said. He had no quarrels with going to the public courts, but to actually enter Ryoma's house—that usually entailed introductions with his family. And Tezuka was not much of talker in front of strangers, though he was nonetheless very polite and proper. But from what he had heard about Ryoma's family, they were not very orthodox—particularly the father. Tezuka frowned slightly.

 

“Your family won't mind?” he inquired.

 

Ryoma gave a brief laugh. “Mind? I told them I would be bringing over a friend. That idiot dad of mine even wants to play you,” he replied amusedly. He then looked at Tezuka teasingly. “You're not nervous are you, Buchou?”

 

The man's attitude had become more playful as of late. No doubt it was from Fuji's influence. Tezuka steeled his expression and chose not to respond. He would have to speak with the former prodigy later about this new development.

 

“Don't worry. Only my dad's insane. My mom and cousin are normal.”

 

Tezuka looked at Ryoma with some amazement. It seemed highly disrespectful for the latter to be referring to his family so vulgarly. But that was one major difference between them. Tezuka had been brought up with highly traditional values and morals. Ryoma was born and raised in the bustling city of New York, and his values and methods were not what one could call traditional. If Tezuka were to be labeled as the conservative, then Ryoma would doubtlessly be the radical.

 

It's interesting to note, isn't it? Whenever Echizen makes his appearance, you can be sure of a lot of interesting events to ensue. He's a catalyst for action.

 

Fuji's words from not too long ago came echoing back into Tezuka's brain. And he was right. When Ryoma first came to Seigaku, he brought along a whirlwind of revolutions. And now he was back again, though this time the action had nothing to do with tennis. It had to do with Tezuka. And the latter had never been so alarmed in his entire life. With both Atobe and Ryoma vying for his attention now, it was hard to think of how life had been before Ryoma came back to Japan. It was quieter, Tezuka remembered, and less stressful. He had a lot more time to focus on his career. Now Ryoma was threatening to be the downfall of Tezuka's steady lifestyle. Flipping the world upside down—that was the perfect way to describe the younger man's presence since he came back.

 

“I'm back, Kaasan.”

 

Tezuka blinked and he looked up to see Ryoma's home in sight. At the front porch was an older woman sweeping the floor. She smiled and waved at them.

 

“So this Tezuka Kunimitsu,” she greeted warmly. “I'm this rascal's mother. You can just call me Rinko. So I heard Nanjirou wants to play you, hm?”

 

“Y-yes,” stuttered Tezuka.

 

Rinko smiled. “Don't worry. Nanjirou's an old pervert, but he won't do anything to you,” she said reassuringly.

 

“Oh.”

 

It was all Tezuka could say to her bluntness. They were decidedly different from his family. He didn't know how to act around them. Usually older people fawned over him because he was so polite and respectful. But Ryoma's family was the type to want his friends to be more outspoken and friendly. No wonder they had loved Momoshiro.

 

“Come on. I'd like to get our match in before my idiot dad finds out you're here,” directed Ryoma as he led Tezuka to the back of the house by the elbow.

 

When they turned the corner, however, they were greeted by a certain obstacle in the shape of Nanjirou sleeping on the porch with Karupin resting on his head. As soon as Ryoma showed up, the cat woke up and greeted his master with a friendly rub around his ankles. Tezuka watched as an uncustomary gentleness filled Ryoma's face as he picked up the cat.

 

“Always waiting around for me, eh?” he murmured to Karupin as he petted his fur. The cat purred in response. Ryoma smiled and looked at Tezuka. “Looks like our way is blocked.”

 

“Oi, shounen. I don't like how you talk about me like I'm some kind of object.”

 

Tezuka looked down at the floor and saw Nanjirou sit up and stretch with a loud yawn. “That was a good nap, though!” he exclaimed before suddenly eyeing Tezuka. “Oh, it's you. I knew that name sounded familiar. What was it again? Tetsu? Tatsuha?”

 

“Tezuka Kunimitsu. And if you want to play him you better do it now, Oyaji.”

 

Nanjirou gave a slow nod. “Ah, that was it,” he murmured with a smirk before standing up. “All right, kid. Let's see what you're made of.”

 

He then placed a hand in his robe and walked off, humming a tune to himself. Tezuka looked at Ryoma. “He really does want to play me?” he asked.

 

The golden-eyed man smiled and dropped Karupin, who landed on the floor gracefully beside his master. “Of course. Don't be soft on him either. He's old, but he's still good enough to beat most experienced players,” he replied.

 

They walked until they reached a closed dome out in the backyard. The dome was made of glass and resembled an enlarged greenhouse except inside there were no plants—simply a large court with a net in the middle. On the side were some weightlifting machines. Ryoma guided Tezuka into the enclosed area and they were instantly hit by a rush of heat. Tezuka took of his coat and hung it up on the side gratefully while Ryoma took a seat on the floor. Nanjirou was already standing in the opposite court, handling a racket slowly.

 

“Come on, kid. I don't have all day you know,” he drawled.

 

Tezuka unzipped his case and took out his racket, the old feeling of adrenaline and excitement flooding his system. He looked at Ryoma. “Why does he want to play me?” he asked.

 

Ryoma shrugged and gestured to the court. “Better not keep him waiting,” he replied enigmatically.

 

Tezuka narrowed his eyes but walked up to the court obediently. Nanjirou grinned and took a ball out from his pocket.

 

“So let's see what type of friends shounen keeps beside him,” he commented before serving.

 

A few minutes into the game found both Tezuka and Nanjirou running around the court in a vicious cycle. For this game Tezuka had forsaken his usual stoic attitude and adapted a more open expression. Glimpses of the faintest smile could be seen on his face as he returned shot after shot. The two were evenly matched and Tezuka was fairly impressed. Nanjirou certainly wasn't one to be put down easily. And his play style was very similar to his own—except smoother and less robotic, as Inui had once criticized Tezuka of. This was the style of a finely tuned instrument—the older the better.

 

“You're not bad, kid! Certainly more fun to play with than that brat of mine,” commented Nanjirou as Tezuka scored a point.

 

Tezuka only nodded in thanks.

 

Nanjirou smirked and pointed accusingly in Ryoma's direction. “He doesn't even try to beat me anymore—no respect, honestly,” he said.

 

Tezuka looked over at Ryoma, who was merely watching them with a half smile. Nanjirou placed his hands on his hips exasperatingly.

 

“Oi, shounen! When I'm through with him, it's you next!”

 

“Sorry, Oyaji. I have a score to settle with Kunimitsu first.”

 

Nanjirou laughed. “Is that so? In that case, we better end our match here. You're going to need your energy for that sprite over there, kid,” he said to Tezuka. “We can finish this off later. But that brat's looking irritated now. I do feel sorry for you!”

 

His last words were said sadistically and with a loud laugh to go along with it as well. Tezuka was feeling edgier by the second. Nanjirou walked over to Ryoma and tapped his son's head with his racket lightly while saying something to him. Tezuka attempted to listen, but the two were too far away from him. All he could observe was Ryoma's widening smirk and Nanjirou's impish grin. It was strange to witness their relationship. Tezuka had always assumed Ryoma never thought much about his father considering all the derogatory comments he made about the older man—but it was obvious to anyone watching them now that they were closer than they let on. And Tezuka could see where Ryoma had inherited his wicked attitude.

 

As the younger man walked up to him, Nanjirou leaned back against the wall of the dome and lit up a cigarette.

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he walked to the opposite court.

 

Tezuka shook his head. “What were you talking about?” he questioned.

 

Ryoma's face was hidden from his view, but Tezuka could detect something from him that made him feel very uneasy.

 

“Your serve, Kunimitsu.”

 

The older man narrowed his eyes. He was not accustomed to having his questions ignored, but such was life. He was no longer Ryoma's captain and thus, the latter could choose whether or not he wanted to answer. Tezuka breathed in deeply to ease the tension building up his mind. It had been a while since he had played Ryoma—and the last time they had played he had inevitably won. Tezuka doubted the same would happen this time round, though. He played frequently, but Ryoma was a newly retired pro. There was a certain gap between their skills that Tezuka could both feel and see. It was in the languid way Ryoma moved, the calm and predatory approach he made on the court, the silent and proud nature in his stance—it was enough to tell Tezuka that he was in for a challenge well beyond his comprehension.

 

He served with all his might and watched as Ryoma returned it effortlessly, his motions clean and unyielding. It was only after they both got in a good number of hits that Tezuka realized something.

 

Ryoma was playing him with his right hand.

 

That was when he knew this game was already over—and the smirk that Ryoma shot him from underneath his cap was unquestionably provocative.

 

“This game won't end like all the others did, Buchou.”

 

Tezuka narrowed his eyes and the competitive spirit that was buried deep within him rose with renewed vigor. “Perhaps,” he replied.

 

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. That was the only thing that went through his mind the past few days. And it was time for something absolute to happen.

 

TBC

And of course, we knew that Ryoma and Tezuka would have to play against each other sooner or later.