Work of Art

By: rennomiya

"Ryoma, dear, could you please give these clean clothes to Nanako? She accidentally mixed her clothes with mine," Rinko told her son, Ryoma, who was busy watching a tennis match in the television. She was carrying a hamper filled with Nanako's clothes when she approached him.

Ryoma stared at his mother lazily at first before he gave up and grabbed the hamper from his mother's hold. He idly dragged his feet upstairs and into his cousin's room, mentally blaming her for being such a bother to his free time.

He began knocking on her door before he heard strange noises coming from the inside. Curious, he leaned closer to the door to hear what she was up to. He heard her sighing and talking to herself about something.

Becoming more curious, he silently opened the door and peeked in.

Nanako was on her study table. She looked as if she was writing something on her notebook. Then, she sighed again and said something to herself.

"Haruki-kun…" she sighed. Her eyes looked as if she was in a trance.

Ryoma decided to interrupt her by clearing his throat. His cousin immediately spun around and was surprised to see her younger cousin staring at her inquiringly. "R-Ryoma-san! What are you doing here?"

Ryoma stretched his arms forward to let her see that he was carrying a hamper. "Your clothes mixed with Kaa-san's."

"Oh! Thank you." She gently walked towards Ryoma and took the hamper from him. She placed the hamper on her bed and turned around just to see Ryoma still on her room. Knowing her cousin, he would immediately leave as soon as his job was done. And since Ryoma was just standing on her room, looking as if he wanted to ask her something, she asked, "Is there anything else you need, Ryoma-san?"

Ryoma turned his amber eyes from her to the notebook she was busy with earlier. He curiously walked towards the notebook. "Nee-san, who's Haruki?" he asked just as he was a feet away from her table.

Nanako blushed in embarrassment. She rushed to his side and before he could get a glimpse of her notebook, she immediately grabbed it and hid it behind her back. "W-Well, Haruki-kun… is a… well…"

"Your boyfriend?" he asked, no, stated after he remembered that Momo-senpai also acts like that whenever he meets the girl from Fudomine. Her actions were too obvious.

Nanako's blush deepened and she defensively shook her head. "No no no no! H-He's not! H-He's just my... uh… f-f-friend!"

Ryoma smirked. Then, he decided not to question his cousin any more. He turned his heels around and began walking out of her room. But he stopped before he closed the door to say, "You were doodling his face on your notebook, weren't you?"

Blood rushed up to Nanako's cheeks.

"Mada mada dane."

.RyOsAkU.

The next day, Ryoma was sitting on his desk on his classroom along with his other classmates. Their second period was English, and so, being the American-raised child that he is, he already knew all of those topics his teacher was discussing about. He knew he would fall asleep sometime soon. Never did a day passed during English period that he didn't fall asleep. He yawned lazily and turned his head to the left where his seatmate was sitting and gazed towards the window beside her to look at the boring clouds boringly drifting in the boring skies.

He yawned again. Every time he looks at the sky, he becomes sleepier.

His eyes slowly closed. The last thing he saw before his eyelids closed completely was his seatmate scribbling on her notebook. And the blue sky behind the windows that complimented her figure nicely. Oh, and her abnormally long pigtails too.

Black.

Based from what he last saw, that girl appeared really focused on the stupid English subject. Oh well, she wasn't born in America like he is. She gets normal grades but he knew she tries her best to get it higher. And because she wanted her grades to go higher, he always ends up tutoring her because of her grandmother's persuasion.

He inwardly didn't mind it. It was relaxing to have a girl in your house once in a while…

… yeah…

… she's kinda… cute too…

… unlike… the boring… subject…

… he's stuck… with for another… hour…

… he's going to fall asleep anytime soon…

… yeah… sleep…

… he clearly hears his teacher babbling about adjectives and adverbs…

… he heard the silent scribbling of his classmates…

… he heard the…

Sigh…

… the lovesick sighing of the girl next to him…

…

He quickly opened his eyes and raised his head.

What? Lovesick sigh? Miss Wobbly Hips was sighing, lovesick-ingly? That was surprising. And there he thought she was busy listening to the teacher.

He turned his head to the girl next to him.

She's probably sighing like a lovesick girl because of him… right?

She had her eyes focused on her notebook. She looked dazed.

He smirked. Yeah, she was probably doodling about a certain boy with Fila cap and cat-like eyes on her notebook. Just like his cousin, Nanako, last night. He calmly leaned his back on his chair. Why was he shocked? It was inevitable. Ryuzaki, acting like an infatuated teen, drawing miniature versions of him filled with hearts around, and sighing like a lovesick girl. It was utterly predictable.

Just like her drawing of him on the tennis ball she gave him before. Yup, that's got to be it.

His ego inflated.

Since he knew he wanted to see her 'work of art' himself, and that he was sure that she'd be too shy to show it to him, he decided to peek in her notebook inconspicuously. She was just next to him; it's going to be a piece of cake.

He accidentally dropped his mechanical pencil on the floor and it rolled almost under her table.

He pretended to be annoyed and scratched his head irritatingly. He bent his body closer to her table and reached for his pencil under her table. She seemed unaware of his actions so far. After he got his pencil, he slowly raised his body up and took a peek of her notebook.

CRACK.

His ego cracked.

Drawn on her notebook, was a page filled with hearts and in the middle of it, was a familiar boy with a familiar smile holding an unfamiliar cactus.

"Fuji-senpai…" he whispered to himself as his brows twitched.

He kept his composure and straightened himself up after he got to see what he thought was her 'work of art'.

He pretended to listen to the teacher while observing from the corner of his eyes what Ryuzaki was doing.

Why was Ryuzaki doodling about Fuji-senpai? It wasn't a work of art, it was horrible. The most horrible thing he ever saw in his entire life. The worst art in the history of worst art.

Why wasn't she thinking and-or doodling about him?

It was supposed to be him.

His mechanical pencil broke in half when he unknowingly tightened his grip on it.

Why was she thinking about that sadistic bastard? And not only thinking; she was drawing him! Sure, she had drawn his face on a tennis ball before, but now that he thought about it, maybe she drew it specifically on a tennis ball so that she could pretend that she was hitting his face with a racquet whenever she plays tennis.

'Yarou…'

The whole period, he cursed Fuji mentally. And during his one-sided mental battle with the smiling tensai, he had formulated a plan on how to change that blasted page on her notebook.

The signal for the lunch break rang. The students began standing up and heading to the cafeteria after listening to some short pointers given by the teacher. He, on the other hand, didn't move a single muscle.

"Sakunoooooooooo!" called the loud-mouthed friend of hers. "Let's eat lunch together!"

Ryuzaki nodded timidly and they both walked towards the exit of the room.

For now, Ryoma was alone in his classroom. This was a rare event. Most days, some of his classmates would bring their bentos and eat inside the room. It was a nice turn of events. He was lucky that he was given the opportunity to execute his plans without any witnesses.

He grabbed her notebook from her table as soon as he was sure that she wouldn't see him. He flipped over a certain page he hated so much and glared at its content.

Ryoma tore that 'certain page' on her notebook and ripped it to pieces. He opened the window next to her table and let it fly with the wind. He smirked as he watched the confetti gradually disappearing from his sight.

He looked back on the notebook. He opened it to an empty page.

.RyOsAkU.

Class is finally over. Everyone was packing their things hurriedly, ready to go home or attend their individual club activities.

After he was done fixing his things, he slumps his tennis bag over his shoulder and turned to see Ryuzaki doing the same.

"Ryuzaki," Ryoma called before she could walk away.

Ryuzaki looked at Ryoma. "Y-Yes?"

"I forgot to take down some notes. Let me borrow your English notebook," he said.

"O-Oh. U-Uhm… okay." She opened her bag and took out her English notebook and gave it to him.

"Thanks."

"B-But Ryoma-kun… a-anou… I'm not really that good in taking notes… M-Maybe you should ask someone else…?"

Ryoma rolled his eyes inwardly. She already lent her notebook. What a drag. "It's fine," he said as he stared at the same notebook he encountered a while ago, "Your notes are enough."

"Uhm, okay then… if you say so…"

Ryoma flipped over the pages again. He stopped on a familiar page—a page he was sure he'd be able to identify anytime. He looked at her and smirked.

She blushed. "W-What's wrong?"

Ryoma turned the notebook around to let her see what's in it.

She blushed in embarrassment after the picture in her notebook finally sinks in.

It was a spread doodle-page of Ryoma. The left page was filled with nothing but Ryoma's name in different sizes and fonts. The right page was drawings of different cartoonized versions of Ryoma in different angles.

"I didn't know Ryuzaki thinks about me this much," he arrogantly said.

Her whole body felt like it was going to explode out of embarrassment. She was positively unfamiliar with that page and she was sure she wasn't the one who did it. "I-I'm n-not the one who d-drew that! I-I don't think t-that's my notebook!"

"Hn…" Ryoma closed the notebook to see the cover. "But your name's written right here," he pointed towards the lower right side of the cover page.

"I-It's not m-my d-drawing, believe m-me!"

He smirked again and lightly tapped the notebook on her head. "You draw nicely," he said mentally telling himself that he was a good artist. That's right; he was the one who drew those particular doodles on her notebook.

He was desperate, it was obvious. He was too insecure with her doodles of Fuji-senpai that he had to make himself believe that she was the one who drew it. Or at least, fabricate her feelings for him through those drawings.

"B-But it wasn't me!" she almost cried.

"You've got talent," he complimented.

"B-But I tell you, it's not really me!"

"You're too humble," he said.

Her drawing of Fuji was, let's face it, garbage. It was the most horrible, disgusting, unacceptable, awful, meaningless, hideous, piece of garbage in existence.

On the other hand, her drawing of him (Even though she wasn't really the one who made it), was definitely, a work of art. It was nice, it was overflowing with her emotions; it was excellent, picturesque, exceptional, unique, magnificent, delightful, attractive, and downright beautiful. Why? Because it was her (not really) drawing of him. Her love for him obviously flows out of the piece of art. It was nice.

Oh please. It was just a doodle. Stop overreacting, Ryoma. And you were the one who drew that. Stop saying those 'her love for you' crap.

.OwArI.

A/N: lol, Ryoma took it too seriously XD She was just doodling! Give her a chance! Sorry for the OOCness, grammatical errors and such.

A review would be nice:)

Prince of Tennis © Konomi Takeshi