My first attempt in writing Prince of Tennis fic. Bear with me. I don't own Prince Of Tennis. I just like playing with the cuties. hehehehe

And We Continue On

Echizen Ryoma: On The Top Of The World

I sat by the bed, my eyes trained over the still figure on it. He's too pale, too thin, too still, but I guess that's expected. There were blankets on him, and the heater is on; I could only hope that it'd keep him warm. I carefully brushed his messy hair, judging his temperature while I was doing so. Still warm. It's just so weird that just ten minutes before I rushed out to get another blanket because he said that he's cold. Kaasan said that it's the fever, but I could tell that already.

I sighed, letting my mind fell back to the glorious days when we spent our days playing together on the four blocks tennis courts. Those were the good old days, where I would play all renshu with all of my heart, as would my teammates, and ran the laps he assigned as fast as we could, not to win, but to not be the last. After all, Sadaharu-senpai's concoctions that he himself dared to call 'juice' were the most fearful thing ever existed.

I wished that I could play all out with him again, like those days at the Haruno Clay Court. Or that I could see him playing all out before my eyes, like when he played against Atobe on that match that we called 'the never ending tiebreak'.

Never again.

Nowadays, I'm one of the people who freak out whenever he holds a tennis racquet for a moment too long. Well, me and almost everybody, that was. Not that he doesn't know his limits; in fact, he knows them only too well. The mother-hen attitude was a side effect of seeing your captain hooked up to machines that beeped and hissed so many years before.

Everyone says it's a miracle he survived this long.

I could still remember the frantic packing and the restless flight I had after I received the phone call from a crying Sakuno, begging me to return to Japan quickly, because Buchou got an accident. I didn't know what accident, I didn't ask how bad it was, I simply packed everything I need, while Oyaji got tickets for us, and then we were on our way, Oyaji, Kaasan, Ryoga, Kevin, and I. How Kevin managed to tag along I could never be sure, but he did. And then the stressing drive from Narita to the hospital, full of traffic jam here and there, that I was tempted to run all the way to the hospital; if it wasn't raining cats and dogs, I would've done so.

And then into the hospital lounge we went, and I was ambushed by a crying Eiji-senpai. Shuichiro-senpai was calmer, although his face was so pale as he tugged Eiji-senpai off me. It was Momo-senpai who told me what happened, though.

It was a car accident that made buchou ended up in the hospital's ICU. He was lucky to be alive, his father, his mother, and his grandfather didn't make it. I almost laughed at that time, if only because of the commonness of the accident. But it wasn't common.

It wasn't, because it was our captain in that ICU room. It was our captain there, fighting for his life.

For two whole weeks he kept on slipping in and out of our reach. For two whole weeks, the Seigaku Regulars were like camping in the hospital's waiting room. Two whole weeks of going to school from hospital and returning to hospital after tennis practice. And when he was stabilized, then we realized that, no, it's never going to be the same anymore.

Whatever that punched through his chest did not hurt his heart, but it had created a serious injury to his lungs, to the point of almost collapsing. That's what the doctors told us. How, I don't know; I didn't, and still don't, crave for details. Therefore, even a slight tiredness can cause him to stop breathing. I said that it's impossible, I mean, what's the connection of tiredness and buchou stopped breathing? Oyaji smacked me on the head for that. He asked me if I breathe fast, or heavily, after long practice or match, or when I'm tired or surprised of even excited about anything.

Of course I do.

And it clicked.

Oh… so that's it.

But Eiji-senpai went bawling yet again, saying that he didn't understand.

"It's… Eiji… when we're tired, we breathe faster to replace the oxygen, but with the condition of Tezuka's lungs now, it can't, well… pump as fast as that, and eventually it might collapse …"

"Can we please pass the explanation?"

Shusuke-senpai's words were sharp, yet hollow. His eyes were wide opened, and he looked as if sickened. I couldn't blame him. Shuichirou-senpai's details cut my heart, too.

Two days after that, buchou woke up.

And it went downhill fast.

The shock of loosing both parents and grandfather took a toll on him. And then, of course, no tennis for him, not anymore. Tennis is far too demanding for his lungs. Add a bunch of annoying relatives, and if it weren't for these good doctors, we would've lost him again.

Relatives that, after saying their condolences and get-well-soon words, asked about the house and wealth that his parents left him. Relatives that dared to ask if buchou's going to stay there alone, but it wouldn't be good for him, so they'd love to stay there to take care of him, too, after all, he's their nephew/cousin/whatever, and still so young and sickly, too, so it's only normal, right?

BULLSHIT!

After the first relatives related 'shock', as we named the situation whenever buchou needed the oxygen tube, we never strayed far from him whenever he had visitors, always keeping in mind to have at least one of us by his side should anyone start being annoying again, so I happened to witness firsthand of Shuichiro-senpai's anger, and the bouquet of roses that Eiji-senpai coldly gave back to those annoying relatives before Kaoru-senpai kicked them out.

A day after that, Momo-senpai and I found Taka-senpai, Sadaharu-senpai, Inoue-san, and Shiba-san peeking on Shusuke-senpai who was hugging buchou while the latter cried in his arms. Ryuzaki-sensei later said that another relative of his made an advertisement to sell his house.

I was furious when I got home, that I cursed at every single unlucky thing, yelled at Oyaji who was blocking the way, almost kicked Karupin, and bad-mouthed my cousin for making an American-style dinner.

Kaasan went up to my room later that night, and got me to talk to her. That's when I poured all of my anger and frustration, not to mention tears, out.

And Kaasan said that she'd take care of things. I didn't know what she meant, but I saw this glint in her eyes that shows only when she means business, and I shut up.

The next afternoon, Oyaji entered buchou's hospital room with papers in his hands, shoved them under buchou's nose, ordered buchou to sign them (which buchou did without even reading the papers, bewildered as he was, well, we all were), and announced that, congratulations, Ryoga and I had just gained a new brother.

The papers were adoption papers.

Ryoga was chortling so hard at my, and my new brother's, and our friends', faces. We must've made quite an amusing sight, all open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

Right that moment, Kaasan entered and told us that she had just bought buchou's house, and listed it under buchou's name, with Oyaji as its guardian until he's of legal age.

I never thought how lucky I was to have Oyaji and Kaasan as my parents, but I sure thanked God then.

Buchou, though, gave quite a vehement refusal, saying that, no, he didn't want to be a bother to anyone else, and no, it's quite alright, he could manage on his own, and no, please, we're all so kind, but he'd only bring trouble to our life, so can we please cancel the adoption, Nanjiroh-san, and Rinko-san, doumo arigato gozaimashita for the house, he'd find a way to pay it back to her, promise.

At least I think it went along that line.

Oyaji huffed and gave the papers to Ryoga, ordering him to give the papers to Inoue-san, he'd know what to do with them, and Ryoga actually skipped out of the room, grinning all the way. The prospect of having another brother to tease must've made his day. Kaasan stopped buchou's rants by clasping her hands on his and told him to take a deep breath, addressing him as son.

It was the three Fuji siblings and Yuudai-buchou who put a stop on buchou's dissent, though. It went like this.

"Ne, Tezuka, if you don't want The Echizen to adopt you, we can do so, right, Neesan?"

"Hai, Shusuke, you're right. I'll go talk to our parents now, if it's needed to. I'm sure they'll agree. What do you say, Yuuta?"

"I don't mind. Tezuka-san is definitely more stable that Aniki is, he can be a good niisan for me."

"Yoshi. What do you say, Tezuka? Would you rather be my brother than Echizen's? After all, we're all practically brothers-in-arms, all of us, so this adoption thingies is only for legalities, right?"

"Hey, wait a minute, Fuji-kun, I don't mind having an otouto, too! What do you say, Tezuka-kun? How does Yamato Kunimitsu sounds to you?"

I had a feeling that the rest of us regulars were going to ask about adopting buchou to their parents that night, and let it slip out.

Either way, he's staying with one of us.

Eight to love. Game and match. We win.

So I gained another brother. One by the name Tezuka Kunimitsu. Oyaji insisted that he keeps his own family name. I didn't think buchou would change it anyway.

Buchou began fighting his illness vigorously after that. I guess he realized that there were still people who cared about him, and true to Tezuka Kunimitsu's nature, he simply wouldn't let us down.

So, two months later, he returned to my house. Kevin returned to America, but not before extracting a promise from me that I'd meet him at U.S. Open the next time. Three months after that, we Seigaku Regulars moved to buchou's house, which is BIG, and we all got our own rooms. The master bedroom and the room that buchou's grandfather used, though, were kept empty.

That's how we started living under the same roof. Not in the same school anymore, there were senior-high students among us then, but still in the affiliated Seishun Senior High School, still in the Seishun Gakuen complex. Ryoga decided to stay in Japan and entered the same school, and also the same club (he stays with Oyaji and Kaasan, though.)

Buchou still joined the tennis club in senior high, under the command of Yamato-buchou, but with his condition, he couldn't play, so he ended up as our manager. And, boy, was he good at it.

Years of watching how Sadaharu-senpai takes data, months of looking at us practicing and unable to join us, his time in coaching us before the U.S-Japan Friendly Tournament, his own exasperation and anxiety of not being able to participate in any upcoming matches, and a collaboration with Yamato-buchou and our Data-Tennis Master suddenly gave birth to the most extensive, impressive, and effective training menu ever. The senior-high team, and us in the junior-high team, adopted it immediately, and yes, we won the National, the first time again in a long time for the senior-high team, and the second time in a row for us junior high-team. Too bad Inui-jiru and its many descendants such as Penal-Tea, Aozu, Akazu, and the newest one then, Kurozu, were included in the menu, too.

I myself keep on entering as many junior international tournaments as my school schedule allows, and had somehow won most of them. I also entered many senior ones. Samurai Junior, the media named me. It's probably Inoue-san who first gave me that title. Whenever I lose a game, Oyaji would scoff and remind me how he won 37 games straight when he went international. Kaasan would come to my rescue then, reminding him that I went international far younger than he did. But I have my own reason to feel bad when I'm defeated.

Before Seigaku, my reason for tennis was to beat Oyaji. After I joined Seigaku, my goal changed, I want to be better, and I had another person I need to beat. During U.S Open, I stole a time and returned to Japan, played against buchou, and finally won. Then, in the same U.S Open, I gave my next opponent a def win due to my frantic flight back to Japan, right after I 'spectacularly defeat Michael Thornbridge in such a short time' as the media wrote it. How, I had no idea. I was so furious and scared at that time, that Ryoga said, if it's something out of Dragon Ball or Saint Seiya or Rurouni Kenshin anime, I would've splattered the court with my opponent's blood. (By the way, I have no idea who my next opponent was at that time. The lucky guy.)

Don't blame me. It's not my fault I've just got that fateful phone call from Sakuno at that time.

I have another goal after that. A goal that buchou unknowingly instilled in me one night when he got yet another cold and had to stay bedridden for a few days (he's so prone to cold and flu after the accident, it almost sad that he actually has his coat everywhere, even if it looks good on him).

I was also sitting by his bedside at that time. Nanako-chan had just managed to get buchou to drink his medicine (he hates his medicine, saying that they tastes like Inui-jiru), and I was laughing at him, who was sulking. The others were in the dining room, probably squabbling over the food Kaasan brought, and there were only us there, when suddenly he spoke.

"Ne, Ryoma?"

"Nani desu ka, buchou?"

I could never change the way I call him, although us Regulars were already on first-name basis since we're 'holed up' together, as Yuuta would've said.

"You're really going pro, ne?"

"You know I am."

"Aa… tell me how does it look from up there, eh?"

"Ha?"

"When you're standing on top of the world, I mean. Tell me about the view from up there."

And that's my goal now. To stand on top of the world. And whenever I do, I'd 'look down to see the view'.

That's where the problem lies.

That's why I was sitting by his bedside again, right after I came home after winning yet another gold to add up to what Oyaji called 'the winnings room', watching over his sleeping form.

"Ne, about what you asked before," I said softly, hoping that he'd hear me, after all, I couldn't seem to say it out right when someone's actually listening, "about the view from the top of the world?"

He moved a little, and I could pretend that he's really listening.

"It's beautiful for the first time, and the second time… but after many times, I realized that it's too blur."

I stopped. Was I making any sense?

"That's why I keep on coming back down, I guess. I miss the view when I'm down on earth."

The school's simple ranking tournament. The Nationals. The international tournaments. Through all the years I've made my wins, Oyaji still can win against me, although, yes, I can win against him, now. And although I won against buchou once, I can still lose against Shusuke-senpai in training match, and didn't buchou defeat him?

Hadn't the accident occurred, they would've been standing on top of the world themselves.

There's no way I could make sure if I had really surpass buchou now. In reality, I have. But only because he's not playing anymore.

Sadaharu-senpai told me once, that the pace a tennis player will reach its peak height eventually, but it won't last forever. That's why I have to evolve. Because I won't reach my utmost height if I don't practice, and even when I do, I won't stay in my best form forever, so I have to evolve all the time. The others encourage me endlessly, I am their golden child, they said. After all, although all of us still play regularly, only four of us actually dedicate ourselves to really go pro.

But I always find myself going back to Seigaku.

It's like fate. Because everything began here, I always have to return here.

"I hope you don't mind, I mean, I keep on going away from time to time…"

I wish he could be with me.

"Oh, that's stupid, of course you don't mind."

I only wish that I could share my view more realistically.

"But I'll get to the top again, and maybe next time, I can describe it better, Ku-Niichan."

"Ku-Niichan?"

Buchou opened his eyes and gave me his cute half smile, or at least that's what Tomoka named the expression where buchou would tilt his head a bit, his lips would curve a little and his golden brown eyes would sparkle like stars.

"Hai. Kunimitsu-niichan. Ku-Niichan. That's a cute nick-name, ne?" I asked calmly, trying to hide my embarrassment at being caught saying sweet things. I knew my cheeks were flushed, though.

"We've been living together for how long, and you've just given me a nickname now?"

"I like buchou, it's a good nickname, but I think Ku-Niichan's cute, too."

"For a second I thought you said Kuni-chan. That's how Okaasan always called me," He said, referring to his birth mother.

"Oh…" I slumped, deflated. He never said much about his deceased family, but I can tell that he loves them very much. I'm not like Eiji-senpai or Shusuke-senpai, though, who would sometimes asks buchou about his beloved blood family. I always think that any reminder of that will hurt him, and I don't want to hurt him, so…

He smiled that oh-so-annoying-smile-of-his-because-no-it's-not-really-a-smile-but-from-him-it's-a-smile and reached for my hand, "Don't give me that face, Ryoma, you know you can give me whatever nickname you want… Besides, I kinda like it."

I immediately brightened, ""Good. But don't expect me to call you that in front of people."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he yawned, "damn, those medicines make me so sleepy…"

"There's a reason for that," I sighed, "Get more sleep, Ku-Niichan."

"Hai-hai…" he sighed, "Congratulations on winning again, Ryoma-chan."

I smirked, "Doumo, and don't you dare call me that in front of everyone. After all, I'm in high school now."

"I'm older than you, and how does Shusuke call me?"

"That's Shusuke-senpai. He's like four years old."

"He is," he laughed, a sound I love so much, after all, before he became my brother, he's like this abominable snowman who's only expression was that poker face of his. After the accident, we were so afraid that he'd shatter, that we treated him like a piece of fragile glass.

It was Oyaji who decided that, no, his new son was not a brittle glass ornament, and handed a grass mower to him one morning and ordered him to mow the lawn.

I sighed, "Just don't play all cuddly with me in front of people, kay? I might not stand the embarrassment."

"I won't. And thanks for sharing the view with me."

The brown eyes that looked at me warmly sent a content feeling coursing through my veins.

This is what I enjoyed the most about winnings. Not the medals, the trophy, or the money.

It's the proud look everyone gives me when I return home. Everyone's, but especially his.

"Always, buchou. Always."

TBC

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading. This story will continue quite slowly, but I intend to make the POV from each regular and some others. I ignored the OVA version (National Championship) because I wrote this before I watched them, so Ryoma didn't join the Seigaku at Zenkoku. R/R greatly appreciated!

THR