Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis was created by Konomi Takeshi. Not me. Please don't sue.

AN: Glowing Crotch Productions (GCP) is a tribute to Touga's hilarious doujin, "Why Ryoma Refuses to Teach Sakuno Tennis". Go to the homepage in my bio and navigate to the doujin page to see exactly what I mean. GCP is meant to be a series of drabbles inspired from her works. If you want more, be sure to cheer her on.

Comments and criticisms welcome. Enjoy.

Glowing Crotch Productions

By Cinpii

Drabble 01: Cute Girls with Wobbly Hips

--sound effect--

--pok--

Another Sunday shot to hell, Echizen Ryoma thought to himself as he sat on the bench situated behind one of the park's practice walls. It was early morning, and the rising sun was hiding behind a cropping of trees dotting the horizon.

--pok--

Somehow, he'd been suckered to supervise Wobbly Hips. Again. Why him, the tennis prodigy grumped as he propped his chin in one hand and aimed a glower at her sub par returns.

--pok--

Sheesh. Just because he didn't have anything planned on Sunday meant that he wanted to spend it watching her. He couldn't sleep in with Karupin, oh no, his old man had roused him up and shoved him into the car. He didn't even get any manju this time, Ryoma harrumphed to himself. He was doing this for free. It sucked. She'd better have a bento waiting for me, the boy grumbled silently.

--pok--

With a frown, he grudgingly evaluated her form, peering at her from under the brim of his cap. Since he was here, he might as well see if he could give her some pointers. Maybe then she'd get better and his old man would stop harassing him.

--pok--

Her posture was ok, but the swing was a little sharp, the footing a bit awkward. Her follow-through needed work. He'd have to teach her that later. But as for now, Ryoma reasoned to himself, let her warm up a little and get a feel for it. She'd get into a natural rhythm eventually, and that'd make his job a lot easier.

--pok--

Five minutes later and she was still pokking away. Ryoma stifled a yawn. This was boring.

--pok--

Another five minutes, another yawn. Ryoma shifted in his seat. His butt was getting sore.

--pok--

15 minutes now. She'd been at it for 15 minutes. He was mildly impressed that she could actually keep the pace going. She was improving.

--pok--

The sun was peaking overhead now, and the rays gleamed upon her body. Ryoma's eyes trailed her movements, noting sun-enhanced details that he would have never noticed before.

--pok--

A tiny bead of sweat trailed down her temple.

--pok--

Silly pigtails danced around her torso with every stroke, catching the rays and glinting off reddish-gold highlights.

--pok--

She pivoted for a swing and the short skirt swished, grazing her slim thighs.

--pok--

Her footwork was getting better, he thought, nodding his head in approval.

--pok--

'haa..' she breathed, her mouth open as she returned the ball.

--pok--

Ryoma's eyes returned to her profile.

'haa…' she breathed again, returning a backhand this time.

He cocked his head at a higher angle to look at her better.

'haa…'

She looked focused. Determined. It was a first for him, seeing this side of Wobbly Hips. She was normally so clumsy.

'haa…'

Ryoma raised a brow. Her face was glowing with exertion, cheeks flushed, eyes steady and serious.

'haa…'

Looking at her this way, he had never noticed before but…

'haa…'

…she was actually kinda cute.

'haa…'

His ears no longer registered the steady thumps of the ball, just the quiet sound of her breathing.

'haa…'

Her hair was too long, but pigtails were nice. His mom used to wear her hair in a braid.

'haa…'

Her features were small and delicate. She was a petite girl. Maybe that was why her grip was so bad. Her hand was too small for the racket.

'haa…'

If he built up her grip strength, that might help, he mused.

'haa…'

And she was kinda cute. Maybe coaching her wouldn't be so bad.

'haa…'

Cat-shaped eyes returned to her parted mouth again.

'haa…'

Her lips looked soft.

'haa…'

He wondered if they felt soft too.

'haa…'

"Ryoma-kun! Watch out!!!"

--POW--

It barreled at him full throttle, too swift for even his honed senses to evade. Without mercy it slammed into his chin, pitching him backwards and off the bench.

Had he not been distracted, he would have been able to avoid it. But he had, and now he was paying for his inattention. Ryoma's jaw throbbed incessantly, and it hurt almost as much as his wounded pride.

Distantly he could hear the girl freaking out.

"Ryoma-kun! Are you okay?"

Of course he wasn't okay. He had just been beamed in the chin by a wayward tennis ball. Her wayward tennis ball. It hurt like hell.

The young prodigy lay sprawled in the grass, covering his visage with his hand, trying to quell the pain. The force of the impact dislodged his cap, and as he stared at it, one angry thought surfaced in his mind.

She wasn't cute at all!