Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Hourglasses ❯ Party ( Chapter 5 )

Hourglasses

 

Chapter V

 

 

“I'd say you two were pretty even. But then you pulled out that fast one. I didn't think you'd be so daring.”

 

Ryoma glanced at the smiling brown-haired man standing across his bed. “What are you doing here, Fuji?” he asked automatically.

 

“Is this how you spend your days, Echizen? Just lie around with headphones clamped over your ears?”

 

“I can't hear you,” the younger man retorted smartly.

 

Fuji's smile widened and he took a seat by Ryoma's desk. “Tezuka's under a lot of stress right now—and the situation you forced him into isn't really helping,” he pointed out.

 

Ryoma opened one eye lazily. “He has to choose eventually. Time won't wait for him.”

 

“That's a bit cold.”

 

“Heh. Do you approve?”

 

“Naturally.”

 

The two smiled at each other for a moment. Fuji then stood up and glanced around Ryoma's room, taking in the furnishings. On the walls were posters of quite a few American rock bands and the rest of the space was occupied by his bed and desk—which had been piled up with miscellaneous books, games, magazines, DVDs, CDs, and newspaper articles. A game console stood loyally by the television located to the bed's right and various other sports equipment littered the space by the closet. It looked, in short, like any typical teenage boy's bedroom. However, Ryoma was no longer a boy—and there was no sign whatsoever in the room that indicated to his worldwide status.

 

It was this quality of Ryoma's that endeared Fuji. Ryoma was arrogant and proud when it came to the court, but off it he strived for as little attention as possible.

 

“I wonder if he'll really end up choosing Atobe.”

 

Amber eyes flashed dangerously. “Cut the joking. I might actually believe you,” he said dryly.

 

Fuji gave a light chuckle. “But what do you plan on doing about him? He's becoming very persistent. He might actually win Tezuka over.”

 

Ryoma took off his headphones and placed them tidily onto his crowded desk. “Keigo is as confused as he was when he was playing junior high tennis. He doesn't know what he wants,” he replied calmly.

 

“You really think so?”

 

“I know. It's just infatuation with him. And that's why I won't lose.”

 

Fuji folded his hands in his lap and sighed. “Well, I don't know… Tezuka can be quite oblivious to things when he wants to.”

 

Ryoma smirked. “Why do you think I told him to decide then? I'm not that mean,” he said.

 

“We should get together with the others. We haven't had a formal party to honor your return yet.”

 

“Now? I might just be leaving again in a week.”

 

Fuji shook his head slowly. “Echizen…what did I tell you about patience?”

 

“I never listen to you when you give advice. You know that.”

 

“How cruel. People say I give good advice, too.”

 

“Maybe for their problems. You just make mine worse.”

 

An amused look was sprawled over Fuji's face. “Are you admitting to the fact that I'm annoying you?” he asked innocently.

 

Ryoma launched a dark stare on the older man. “Why are you here, Fuji? I know you didn't just decide to drop by to check up on me,” he accused.

 

“Now, now, I don't always need a reason to visit a friend do I?”

 

“Normally, no. But since it's you that's not possible.”

 

Touché, thought Fuji. He shrugged. “About Atobe…I think there might be someone willing to help break him and Tezuka apart,” he said.

 

Ryoma looked at him placidly. “That sounds very mean you know.”

 

Fuji looked surprised for a moment before laughing. “No, no, it's not a conspiracy or anything. It's just…well…a strange sort of love triangle. And with the addition of this new individual I guess it could be called a love square—or rectangle—whichever one you prefer,” he explained.

 

“Who are you talking about?” queried Ryoma curiously.

 

The brown-haired man gave a knowing smile and shook his head. “Can't say… I haven't even approached him with the idea yet,” he replied.

 

“How do you even know then?”

 

“I'm good at reading people's feelings.”

 

“Right, right…” Ryoma stared up at his ceiling. “This is so tiring,” he murmured.

 

Fuji smiled sympathetically. “You were the one who wanted this.”

 

“I wonder, though… People are complicated. If they were only like tennis, I would be certain—but they aren't. It's like a game of chance,” Ryoma said quietly before adding darkly, “and I hate probability. That's Inui's forte, not mine.”

 

The brown-haired man stared at Ryoma calmly. “You really care for Tezuka, huh?” he contemplated aloud.

 

Ryoma stood up and stretched his limbs thoroughly before picking up his tennis equipment. “Maybe. Care for a game?” he replied offhandedly.

 

Fuji grinned. “Of course.”

 

They headed towards Ryoma's enclosed court. Fuji admired it openly in fascination. In all of Japan, this was probably the only one of its kind. There were few who could afford to have a court in their backyards—and even fewer that could afford to enclose it. But with Ryoma's salary for the past five years, anything was possible. Fuji walked over to the side to pick out a spare racket to his liking before warming up with a few sit-ups and pushups. Ryoma had taken to practicing alone by the side—hitting two balls simultaneously back and forth to the same spot on the wall. Fuji gave a small smile. Frightening control…this should be good. He laced up his sneakers and began heading to the court.

 

“Where's your father? I usually see him around here,” he called out.

 

Ryoma entered the court quietly. “Probably reading more of his perverted magazines in the house,” he replied. He shot Fuji a light smirk. “Want to do this the old-fashioned way or should I just let you serve first?”

 

Fuji chuckled lightly. “I like old-fashion,” he said.

 

“Which?”

 

“Rough.”

 

The racket fell with a light clatter to the ground. Rough. Fuji smiled as Ryoma headed back towards his end. “Make this good, Fuji. I want to get some sort of challenge.”

 

“With that attitude, I can't imagine how Tezuka might possibly choose someone else over you.”

 

Ryoma smirked. “Very funny.”

 

The game lasted for over twenty minutes. Fuji had missed this thrill. Of all the opponents he faced, he never grew tired of playing Ryoma. He was the only one Fuji could go all out on without hesitation. Mizuki, Kirihara—he had only played them seriously because they had dared to hurt people close to him. But with Ryoma he played seriously simply because the other man drew it out of him. You could not relax in his presence or give him a handicap. Ryoma was the type to detect those types of gestures well and twist them around to his own advantage. Fuji grinned as the younger man scored a point.

 

“You've done very well, Echizen. Watching you on television is nothing like playing you in person,” he complimented cheerfully.

 

Ryoma arched an eyebrow. “Well, thank you very much,” he replied dryly.

 

Fuji had only played recreational tennis after high school. His form had developed, but not nearly as drastically as Ryoma's. There were too many other things that caught his eye to pay so much attention to tennis—so Fuji abandoned it for a while. Many recruiters had been crushed when they found this out. But Fuji never had the intention of becoming a professional. He only played because it was fun. And it was still fun. But there were only so many things he could juggle at once.

 

“Thirty-love. This can't be all you have, Fuji.”

 

The former tennis prodigy smiled. And he's still playing with his right. I can't imagine what a game with his left would be like. I'd probably be crushed in a love game. “Your prowess amazes me, Echizen,” he commented, grinning at the dark scowl that filled Ryoma's face.

 

“Please, that just reminded me too much of Keigo,” the younger man said before suddenly switching to his left.

 

Fuji could only stand still and watch as the ball flew past his eye.

 

“Forty-love. Match point.”

 

Very scary, Echizen. Fuji shrugged. “Aaah…it's a lost cause.”

 

The game finished in a matter of a few seconds. Fuji had grown very wary of that left arm now. He always knew Ryoma had untapped potential—but this was something else altogether. No wonder the newspapers and critics had raved about him. He was truly divinely blessed. And Ryoma had demolished all of their hopes by retiring early. Fuji smiled at the irony.

 

“I'm hungry.”

 

Fuji blinked. “Should we get something to eat then?” he suggested.

 

Ryoma changed his clothes swiftly. “Are you paying?” he asked airily.

 

“You know… I don't really have to do that anymore…”

 

Golden eyes flashed. “I know. I was only joking.”

 

“Aah…”

 

The two headed out of the court bundled up from head to toe. It was late evening now and the air was brittle. Fuji tilted his head back to catch a snowflake on his nose. It was certainly beautiful in Tokyo around the time of year. And Christmas was dangerously around the corner. Fuji looked at Ryoma. He wondered if Tezuka would be able to make the right decision. It would be a shame for the amber-eyed man to leave before they had a chance to celebrate his birthday. Fuji shook his head. Most people would not have been so bold.

 

“What's this?”

 

“A new restaurant I wanted to try out.”

 

“…Malaysian?”

 

“I heard it's quite good.”

 

Ryoma rolled his eyes as they entered the warm restaurant. “It better be,” he muttered darkly before finding his vision completely gone. “What…?”

 

“Come on, man. This ain't no joke. Get going!”

 

Suddenly Ryoma felt someone tie his hands behind his back and the powerful momentum of being pushed forward towards an unknown destination. He wondered to himself in the back of his head. What are the chances we enter a restaurant that's in the middle of a heist? Very slim I would like to think. Ryoma felt himself being forced into a chair.

 

“Are you okay, Fuji?”

 

“I'm—”

 

“Shut up! Both of you!”

 

Ryoma felt strangely odd. He supposed panic would usually consume a person right about now—and yet he felt utterly composed. Ryoma contemplated this for a while before the covering was lifted from his eyes. Blinded by the sudden light, he flinched painfully before seeing what was before him.

 

A long white table. Kikumaru snapping pictures of him like a wild man. Inui scribbling away into his notebook by the end of the table. Momoshiro grinning widely at him. Kawamura smiling bashfully. Fuji with his usual mask in place. Kaidou looking extremely displeased in his seat as he hissed. Oishi already at his side with an apologetic face. And Tezuka standing by the wall with his arms crossed—completely expressionless.

 

Ryoma felt mildly surprised.

 

“Man, Ochibi! You have no reaction whatsoever! Didn't you even feel a little scared?” whined Kikumaru.

 

“His eyes widened at point one millimeters. That indicates some surprise,” calculated Inui.

 

Momoshiro laughed. “Yeah, Echizen, you were shocked, right?” he said happily as he chuffed his shoulder lightly.

 

“I'm so sorry, Echizen! But the rest of them insisted and this was really Fuji's idea so I couldn't stop it. I thought the whole getup might have been too dramatic, but as long as you're all right I guess it's okay, huh?” Oishi said hurriedly.

 

Ryoma stared at the man for a while and listened as Oishi's apologies went on profusely before finally shaking his head. “It's okay, Oishi. Really,” he said, a small smile on his face.

 

Snap! Ryoma blinked as Kikumaru cheered. “Yay, I got Ochibi smiling!”

 

The others eventually calmed down enough to take their places around the table. Ryoma smiled as Tezuka sat by his side, albeit it was a bit forced due to Momoshiro and Kikumaru's rather blatant intentions. The waiter came by after a few minutes to take their drinks and orders and Ryoma listened for a while to everyone's voices. He never would have admitted it to anyone, but he did miss them. He had grown under their care—and they were friends that he knew he could always look to for support. As their food began to arrive, Ryoma managed a small laugh when Inui picked up a sample of his meal to feed to Kaidou, who looked extremely embarrassed. The rest of the table laughed heartedly as Kaidou sputtered with his words whilst Inui waited patiently for him to take his food.

 

They had always been an odd pairing. No one was exactly sure of how deep their relationship ran except themselves. Even Fuji could make no certain assumptions. Inui and Kaidou were both very private individuals by nature and as far as the public eye could tell, they acted no differently from two best friends or brothers. But Ryoma had a feeling there was something more than that. It was in the way they acted around each other—naturally, no facades at all. They were free around one another. That was why they made such a great doubles pair in high school. But each held his own in singles, too. They were dependent on each other, but at the same time they never lost their own independence.

 

Ryoma smiled slightly. At least they could find some comfort from each other. He looked at the rest of the faces around him. Momoshiro had changed little. His temper had quieted in the past years, but the same fiery nature still existed within him. He had also taken to a new passion: cooking. Whereas Kawamura mastered the fine art of sushi making, Momoshiro had began his study of fine cuisine. He was hoping to start his own restaurant one day that served all types of food—not only Japanese.

 

“Eat up, Echizen! Your food will get cold if you don't!”

 

Oishi was once again playing the mother hen. Ryoma smiled. He hadn't changed at all. And neither had Kikumaru. Those two were as inseparable as ever—and that still carried over on the tennis court. Ryoma picked up his chopsticks and began eating his meal. He was truly happy for once. Facing the tennis world at such a young age had not been traumatizing for him—but leaving everyone behind had left an imprint on him. For the first time since he arrived in Japan, he felt truly home.

 

“The fun doesn't end here, though. We have other guests expecting to arrive soon,” quipped Fuji suddenly.

 

And as if on cue, the door opened and in came Tachibana, Kamio, and Shinji. Behind them followed Yuuta, Mizuki, Yanagisawa, and Atsushi. Ryoma blinked. No wonder they had so much room around the table. But even with their newly arrived guests, there was still plenty of space to be had. He looked at Fuji and caught the older man's glittering eyes smile at him.

 

“Oh, looks like we came just on time! How are you doing, Echizen? It's nice to see you back,” greeted Tachibana warmly.

 

“Fancy décor,” commented Shinji distractedly.

 

Kamio's eyes flashed. “Oi, Echizen, why did you retire so early?” he demanded fiercely.

 

Before he could reply, the door opened again. This time Sanada, Kirihara, and Yanagi entered. The former captain of Rikkaidai tilted his head in Ryoma's direction.

 

“Echizen,” he said formally.

 

Kirihara eyed him mischievously. “Pro world too hard on you or what?”

 

“No one asked for your opinion,” interjected Kikumaru in Ryoma's defense.

 

“No arguing, Akaya,” chastised Yanagi calmly as the younger man was about to speak.

 

They took their seats around the table. Ryoma looked at Fuji incredulously.

 

“How many people did you invite?”

 

Fuji smiled conspiringly as he tilted his glass back and forth. “Who knows?” he replied coolly.

 

Ryoma glared at the older man. “You didn't…”

 

This time Fuji laughed. “Who knows?” he repeated lightly.

 

Oishi looked at Ryoma concernedly. “Is everything okay? You look pale, Echizen,” he asked.

 

The golden-eyed man shook his head. “Everything's fine. Don't worry about it.”

 

For a few minutes there was peace. Only the sounds of people catching up and eating filtered through Ryoma's ears. He allowed himself to relax for a short while. He knew what Fuji had planned. And the older man had the nerve to call him daring? He gritted his teeth as he felt the thunderous pounding of a migraine on the side of his head. He had never been particularly comfortable around people—even around those he called his friends. But this situation was starting to drive him a little off the edge—especially if his suspicions proved right. Ryoma took a sip from his soda. He had dove into this too quickly.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

Ryoma turned around to catch Tezuka's mildly apprehensive look. He blinked several times. He had forgotten the older man had even been sitting next to him. He gave a low snicker. “Fuji's a downright headache you can't ignore,” he muttered.

 

“It took you that long to realize?”

 

A short laugh was issued from Ryoma. He eyed Tezuka down. “And I always thought the two of you got along so well,” he remarked amusedly.

 

Tezuka smiled lightly.

 

“Well, now…it seems you've got the beginnings of a good party here.”

 

Ryoma looked towards the doorway immediately. He smirked. “Late as usual, Keigo.”

 

“Fashionably late, Ryoma. There is a difference.”

 

“Smells good!” exclaimed Jirou blissfully as he looked over the array of food.

 

The entire former Hyotei team gathered around the table just then. Ryoma gestured to an empty chair across him. “Have a seat, your highness,” he said mockingly.

 

Atobe narrowed his eyes, but that did not stop the smile from spreading over his face. He sat down where Ryoma had directed him and Kabaji followed obediently. He waited patiently as the waiter began taking down the others' orders and folded his hands.

 

“Aren't you going to look at the menu?” inquired Kawamura curiously.

 

“I already know what I want,” replied Atobe pompously.

 

Ryoma hid a smile as he gestured to the others. “Can't go anywhere without your posse?”

 

“So how are you, Tezuka?”

 

Atobe grinned at the glare Ryoma threw at him. Tezuka took a sip from his tea calmly. “Fine, Atobe. And yourself?” he replied.

 

“Good, good. Could be better, though.”

 

Ryoma sat back and watched as a conversation between the two unfolded. He glanced at Fuji. That bastard, he thought with some grudging respect. Not only had he been manipulated masterfully into this situation, but Fuji had also brought along his foremost competition. Ryoma massaged his temples. Well, it was not the worst-case scenario—but it was close to it.

 

“And with the addition of this new individual I guess it could be called a love square—or rectangle—whichever one you prefer.”

 

Casting an observing look over the table, Ryoma wondered to himself. Who could it be? Fuji never specified whether it was someone they knew—but he had a distinct feeling it was. He eyed down the former Hyotei team. If anything it had to be one of them. They were Atobe's closest companions and confidants. He crossed out Ootori and Shishido immediately. Those two had been a pair since the beginning of high school. Ryoma did not even take Kabaji into consideration. The latter was a loyal friend and follower—nothing more and nothing less. That left Jirou, Mukahi, Oshitari, and Hiyashi. Ryoma narrowed his eyes. This would not be easy.

 

Feeling himself being studied, Ryoma looked over to catch Fuji's knowing stare. The brown-haired man smiled and nodded slowly.

 

So it is someone among these guys… Who, though? Ryoma arched an eyebrow and watched as Fuji's grin widened. Then, unmistakably, he moved his hand towards the side of eye. Ryoma watched as the older man performed an undeniable pantomime of adjusting something invisible on his face—something like glasses. Ryoma blinked. Oshitari? His mind had come up with the answer before he could even consider it. At once his gaze flew over to the blue-haired man's direction. He was talking calmly to Mukahi while at the same time making sure Jirou didn't choke on his food beside him.

 

Ryoma frowned.

 

Oshitari and Atobe? He contemplated the possibility. Most certainly, he did see those two together a lot during the time he was still living in Japan, but he never imagined this. Atobe was commanding, flamboyant, and extremely arrogant. Oshitari harbored that same arrogance, but he never flaunted it like Atobe—and he was much more tolerable than the latter. He was also more formidable in both his tall stature and calculative demeanor. Ryoma shook his head slightly. But the both of them were so stubborn. How would they ever work out?

 

“Ryoma? Are you all right?”

 

Again the amber-eyed man looked at Tezuka in surprise. He was being far too careless in actions tonight. “Yeah,” he answered quickly. But when he saw that Tezuka's gaze did not dissipate on him so easily, he smiled. “Really.” Twice the same person had asked him the same question in the last hour.

 

“You're not eating,” Tezuka said softly.

 

Ryoma looked down at his half-eaten food. “Oh. Right,” he said before quickly finishing the rest of his meal. Not eating was never a factor for him. No wonder Tezuka seemed so worried.

 

“On a diet, Ryoma?” came Atobe's smooth voice.

 

Once again the golden-eyed man froze. He looked at Atobe and then again at Oshitari for a split second. Could such a couple exist without killing the other first? “Hardly,” he murmured.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Hardly!”

 

Atobe looked briefly surprised at the outburst before smiling silkily. “I see. No need to get so huffy.”

 

Ryoma placed a hand to his temple and spotted Oshitari from the corner of his eye laugh at a joke Jirou made. The fact that someone who liked Atobe could act so indifferently disturbed him—especially since he knew that Oshitari knew who Atobe was really after. How could he behave so normally then? Why wasn't he fighting back? Atobe was Ryoma's rival at this point, but that did not mean he wanted him to end up with the worst in the end—and he could not fully comprehend Oshitari's feelings yet. This may have been a competition over Tezuka—but Ryoma honestly did not want anyone to lose in this game. He gave a soft sigh. This has suddenly gotten a lot more difficult.

 

TBC

 

As repayment for my overdue updates, I present this double-installment. I'm doing this to practically all my other fics. I have been very lazy with mm.org the past year. But, it's a brand new year so let's get the ball rolling. ^^