Disclaimer: The usual, I don't own PoT, yadda yadda…
A/N: Animatized is a writing duo between Kimiko Hiraki and myself, Natsue Arishima. Kimi will not be participating in the writing part of this story, though she did introduce me to Prince of Tennis, so I though she'd get some credit. She's my beta-reader too, so…
Anyhoo, here goes my first writing attempt in the PoT category. I'm planning to begin an actual fanfic sooner or later here as well, seeing as I've got the plot and everything, though the two things that I still need to start it off would be a title and time. Heh…
Well, enough on that. Please take some time after reading this to drop a review. You know you want to!
Warnings: FujiRyo one-shot.
PirouetteNatsue Arishima
Life is a rather interesting thing.
There are times when it flows along, smoothly and peacefully, and there isn't a doubt in anyone's mind that everything is perfect and complete and just plain wonderful. And then sooner or later the darker side of life's personality is revealed and it finds itself with a sadistic tendency it needs to fulfill. Life then expresses its needs by pulling you close and spinning you around and around and around, until the sky and the ground are one, until you have nothing left to empty from your stomach, and you just sit there, dizzy, confused, and horribly mangled. Every step you take after that seems to shake the earth, the ground, your head, all previous nonchalant opinions of life itself.
You then realize that life is an enemy, a disturbing, stupid and ever so annoying foe, for while you're able to beat the crap out of all other opponents, life is untouchable.
And to the likes of Echizen Ryoma, life is the dumbest, most moronic, hateable, and amusing thing that ever existed.
Ryoma is a perfectly normal boy, smug, egotistical, and completely non-sentimental. Well, you might say, perfectly normal my ass! He'll grow up to be evil one day, like those dictators that always die in the end; you can see that gleam in his eye! And yes, though Ryoma, admittedly, isn't exactly a favorite in everyone's opinion, you must first understand why he is that way.
He'd had his share of life's cruelties, of the way it innocently draws out long, slow and excruciating torture, though some unfortunate experiences had happened so many times previously to him that they were no longer bothersome. He just… accepted them, like how you'd unconsciously accept the presence of an annoying fly that you just can't swat. An example of this was when he'd stumbled across several perplexing magazines under his father's name at an innocent age of four, successfully terrorizing his later dreams and unknowingly scarring himself for the rest of his life. He'd been in shock for days after, for even little boys, though not yet understanding the full context of life and its secrets, know what things are right and what are wrong. And the pictures in that magazine were definitely not one of those everyday things that people automatically accept. He then realized that the periodicals were all over the house, if you just looked hard enough, and when he'd gotten past the mental trauma he'd actually started making a game with them based on how many he could find daily. He'd been on a record of discovering one per day for a whole month before his useless father had finally gotten the hint and locked them away in his room, with his other unknown terrors that Ryoma could really care less about.
It wasn't exactly psychologically damaging after he'd gotten over them and blocked them from his mind forever. The magazines were just paper and pictures after all; nothing he couldn't handle. Besides, it was nothing compared to the time he'd walked into a school bathroom and came across a rather explicit scene with his two sempais of the Golden Pair in a compromising position. Which, now that he thought about it, he really would have preferred not to see.
Preferred was perhaps a small understatement, as he'd had nightmares for the two following weeks, and his untainted, if not a bit previously ruptured, world had spun around so relentlessly in shock it was a miracle he was still able to keep a clear mind afterwards, let alone walk straight.
So yes, Echizen Ryoma is a perfectly normal boy. Well, as normal one can be from more than equal traumatism.
Life is a rather interesting thing.
Perhaps PMS would be a good explanation for its many ups and downs, though for some reason Ryoma wasn't sure it was such a good label. There was another description, however, that almost perfectly described life and its twists. Two, simple yet horrifying words: Fuji Syuusuke.
It wasn't that Ryoma despised the prodigy. It was just that whenever the brunette was around, he always seemed to embarrass himself in someway. Fuji made him feel awkward, clumsy, and immensely self-conscious, and he couldn't say he enjoyed it. He didn't despise him, though he didn't favor him either. Fuji was just… there. A person that would most doubtably never leave his life, though never stay close as well, so there was really no point in trying to get friendly with him anyway.
Fuji was everything he found irritating. He wasn't like anyone else Ryoma knew. The prodigy played those around him like puppets, a cunning mind forever ticking behind his innocent façade. Half the time, Ryoma couldn't even come close to guessing what the other was feeling, which was probably why it was so frustrating in the first place.
Fuji wasn't one to be trusted. Underneath all of his freakish layers and masks, he was downright evil. Like an onion, rotting at the core. Or something akin to that anyway. Ryoma still hadn't forgotten the previous incident revolving around mistletoe, catnip, and various sex toys. That incident had sent his world spinning for days.
Of course, Fuji couldn't be an emotionless bastard all the time; even one like himself needed a break in that department occasionally. There were times when Fuji was unnaturally nice and caring, and it was during these times that Ryoma trusted him, but those were rare occasions. He could be calm, quiet, reassuring, and all-around safe, though a display of abnormal kindness was almost always followed up with a prank to satisfy the brunette's sadistic disposition.
And usually, the target of said prank was usually Ryoma, much to the younger boy's displeasure.
Like life itself.
It was enough to drive a person insane.
Speaking of which, the smiling brunette had also been the center of a rather twitchy situation several days earlier. The point of no return, Ryoma called it. He'd been at his peak, and with a shove had fallen down. It had been where Ryoma's life had been ruined forever. The boy's world had literally popped off its axis and never righted itself since, swiveling around uselessly in his head like a sort of hyperactive sunflower.
The reason?
Fuji's innocent yet so evil question: "Ne, Echizen? Do you want to go watch a movie with me this Friday?"
And Ryoma proceeded to gape at him like a fish for a full five minutes.
Honestly, if Fuji hadn't spoken in such a considerate and faultless tone, Ryoma would have socked him in the jaw right there and then.
"Er…" He had then promptly scrambled his brain for a clever, wry, and unbreakable excuse, while his useless and spiteful world swiveled happily around in the background, free from its stiff iron prison. "I'm… busy."
Yep. Ryoma was a clever boy.
"Saturday then?" the brunette had asked fluidly, winding a strand of hair around a finger, and had the freshman not been so shocked and dumbfounded, he might have admitted to himself that Fuji was kind of, ever so slightly, just a tiny bit, cute.
And then, of course, the brunette had took his silence for a yes, walking away with a light, "I'll call you then," before putting a finger to his lips and smiling.
Damn that sadistic bastard.
And then Ryoma had swaggered drunkenly in the opposite direction, keen on putting as much distance as he could from his new "boyfriend," dizzy and sick, with his world giggling happily at him as it continued in its retarded way.
"Nya! Ochibi, what is all of this?"
Saturday night found Ryoma flattened on his bed under a growing mountain of clothes he never even knew he had, while Kikumaru Eiji was rummaging loudly through his closet and drawers. The redhead was uttering catlike noises of distress as he held up shirt after shirt, pants after pants, some of which looked many years his senior, commenting about their imperfectness and non-appealing appearances before flinging them all over his shoulder and incidentally, onto Ryoma.
'After this date,' Ryoma thought darkly as a pair of boxers flew his way and smacked him on the nose'the world shall suffer.'
Out of the blue, a bright yellow beach dress complete with basket and bonnet (where the heck did that come from?) landed ever so gently on top of him.
'Oh yes. Suffer,' he added amidst Momoshiro Takeshi's sniggering as he held up the dress and examined it against the light. 'And I'm gonna laugh when it does.'
"Never knew you were a cross-dresser, Echizen," Momo simpered, waving the garment around like a lurid, flowery flag. He dodged the pillow thrown at him, grinning cheekily, before gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling, frowning. "But I still don't get it. I mean, I'm not really surprised about what Fuji did. I mean, come on, he's Fuji-sempai. Bound to happen someday, if you ask me. But still… Why Echizen? It's just —"
"Shut up," Ryoma snapped, an uncomfortable heat rising up in his cheeks. "Or no more chocolates for you." His eyes fell on the empty wrappers crumpled around the spiky-haired teen's feet, and drifted towards the remaining box that was still unopened, hidden under two other empty containers. Those had been expensive, dammit!
Momo immediately fell silent, eyes drifting bashfully onto the closed box. His fingers twitched.
Several more painfully long minutes passed, with Ryoma tapping his fingers impatiently on his bed, Momo looking down at the floor while furiously biting his lip to keep from commenting, and Kikumaru all but pulling out his hair after rummaging through all of the freshman's stores and more without finding anything satisfactory.
"Mou…" the redhead whined, leaning back onto the carpet spread-eagle as he pouted. "You're hopeless, Ochibi. Worse that Oishi, and his eye for fashion is already considered pretty weak."
"Great," Ryoma muttered distractedly, feeling faintly lightheaded, yet slightly flushed. He did not need to think about the Golden Pair couple right now. He motioned to the large pile on top of him. "Great. Can I get up now?"
When no one moved to help him, the golden-eyed boy sighed, closed his eyes, and wriggled out himself, nearly popping out an eyeball on a rather pointy button in the process and missed knocking out the redhead with his foot by mere inches. He was quite disappointed that he missed, actually.
Running his hand through his tangled hair, Ryoma frowned irritably before smoothing out the creases in his shirt. Oh yes, first priority: Kill Fuji Syuusuke. A long, slow, painful death.
Add evil, maniacal laughter and the image would be complete.
He was pulled from his daydream when Momo gagged on a piece of chocolate he either forgot to chew or believed himself capable swallowing whole.
"What?" Ryoma muttered when he noticed Kikumaru staring at him with something like pity in his eyes.
"You look so BORING, nya!"
In his corner, Momo burst out into a laugh, though a select glare from Ryoma sent him staring back at his feet again, but not before muttering, "Humph. What a party-pooper." His fingers twitched again, eyes fixed on the now open box that was practically calling to him.
Sighing slightly, Ryoma poked at his shirt, admitting that yes, perhaps it was a bit plain. But Fuji wouldn't care, right? And besides, why should he care about what Fuji thought? This whole thing was ridiculous, anyway. It wasn't like he'd been given a choice. The stupid brunette just left before he could say anything, that was all. He would have said something if given the choice. Of course he would have. Uh huh. Though that wouldn't explain why he hadn't been able to call…
The light and fluttery sensation in his stomach was sickening.
From downstairs came the clear, distinct sound of the doorbell.
He froze.
Next to him, Momo couldn't hold himself back any longer, bursting into a fit of laughter. Kikumaru was no help either, with his annoying smirk. Ryoma, in his irritable state, clenched his fists. Those two were going to pay dearly after this.
"Well?" Momo prompted, bowing him to the door.
"Suck it up, Ochibi," Kikumaru grinned, beaming at him.
Ryoma flushed, fury evaporating instantly. "W-what?" he sputtered.
The redhead clasped a hand to his mouth, blue eyes wide with a mix of fake shock and laughter, and Momo smirked. "Head out of the gutter, Echizen," he said in a warning tone, ruffling the younger boy's hair.
Ryoma felt like his head was burning off; he'd never blushed so much in his life. Those two… "I didn't say anything," he snapped quickly, looking away. "And I'm not getting it." He sat down heavily on the bed once more, crossed his arms, and shut his eyes, as if the matter was now settled.
"Aw, come on, Echizen. It's your date. Get the door."
"It's not a date!"
Okay, the laughing really didn't help. Out of habit, he reached up for the familiar outline of his hat, ready to pull it down and hide from the cruel, dark world, forgetting the fact that Kikumaru had removed it that evening, insisting it rude to wear such an "obtrusive item on such a ethereal occasion". Honestly, Ryoma hadn't even known that Kikumaru knew so many freakishly odd words; the redhead had always struck him as, well… let's just say an owner of a small vocabulary.
Ugh. He felt naked.
"Not scared, are you, Echizen?" Momo asked innocently, blinking large, purple eyes.
That was it.
Feeling a sudden lust for blood, the golden-eyed boy pushed himself up stiffly, stalked out of his room, and stomped with ire down the stairs for the door. Scared? He, Echizen Ryoma, never backed down from anything. Not from teachers, other brainless students, equally brainless fans, Inui juice… Okay, so maybe the last one. But nothing else. And he would most definitely not back away from a falsely innocent tennis prodigy.
Though just as he was about to storm over to the door and wrench it open (who knew, maybe he could somehow accidentally knock Fuji out), he realized with a jolt that the door was already unlocked.
Which could only mean one thing.
He spun around, ready to charge back up the stairs, despite the two idiotic faces grinning down at him from the upper banister, before a large hand clapped itself onto his shoulder and spun him around. Trapped. Stupid, stupid man. He let himself be steered in a circle, eyes narrowed in his perfected image of bristling beast. Stupid, stupid father.
"Ry-o-ma," the hairy excuse for a human being ushered in a sing-song voice. Ryoma gritted his teeth. "You have a pretty girl waiting in the kitchen! Never knew you were into older types, son!"
Despite the bubbling fury quenching inside of him, and despite the sudden urge to knock out several teeth, Ryoma blinked in faint surprise. Girl? And then his stomach quenched, his world spinning in faster and crazier circles in his head. Oh, this couldn't be happening.
His father thought that Fuji… was a girl.
The world let out a high-pitched shriek and spun faster.
If it hadn't been such an uptight situation, he would have found the fact highly amusing. No doubt his father had tried to grope the tennis prodigy a split second after seeing him, that pervert.
Sure enough, the brunette was waiting patiently in the kitchen, looking so casual and comfortable that Ryoma was immediately suspicious, wondering if Fuji had somehow come to his house before without telling him. Wouldn't put it past him… he mused bitterly, head feeling highly bare when he attempted to pull down his invisible hat again.
He glared hard at Fuji's back, willing it to catch fire, and realizing with a jolt that the brunette hadn't really done anything special for the… "ethereal occasion". He was still one and the same. Same hair, same face. Sure, the clothes were a bit different, but that was that. Besides, it couldn't be expected of him to wear his tennis jersey around all day.
Once again, Ryoma really wanted his hat, and at the same time wanted to go upstairs and whack Kikumaru useless, being his sempai or not; so much for dressing up!
The brunette turned, smiling. "Saa… I assume that was your father, Echizen? He's… pleasant."
Ryoma blinked. Right.
Fuji had started walking towards him, a faint glimmer of blue hidden under his dark lashes. Ryoma swallowed, unconsciously taking a step back towards the wall. The prodigy blinked at his sudden nervousness before chuckling. "I don't bite," he said softly, reaching out and tucking a strand of Ryoma's dark hair behind an ear. Blue eyes opened, an amused glint buried deep within perfect hues that were startlingly bright in the dim room.
"Well then, shall we go?" he murmured, and Ryoma attempted to speak, squeaked, and turned away pointedly, burning two icy holes into the wall.
Fuji laughed.
He followed Fuji out the door with a bit more wobble in his step than necessary. Ah well. It could have been worse. At least Fuji didn't bring him flowers or anything. Ryoma didn't know what he would have done if he had.
Probably crush them into a pulp.
Ryoma had never been quite a fan of horror movies, though, knowing Fuji, he should have been expecting this. Well, actually, okay, so it hadn't been Fuji's fault, but still. Ryoma needed something to blame for his stupid and regretful actions.
It turned out that Fuji hadn't planned the evening step by step (something that Ryoma was actually rather grateful for; he'd most likely be unable to hold his temper back if he found a scheduled sheet showing the time they were supposed to leave, arrive, pee, and all that jazz). So at least Fuji wasn't that weird.
Actually, the brunette hadn't even offered to go to the movies at first, saying some supposedly considerate and sweet things firsthand that in short told Ryoma that he was allowed to pick where to go. The golden-eyed boy was almost flattered by the faultless speech, before realizing that it was probably one of Fuji's tricks, and he promptly secured a mental wall around himself again. Nice try, acceptable wooer, but he wasn't going to fall the victim of a sneaky conspiracy so easily. He'd already had enough of that.
Fuji was probably trying to feed him with so many gooey stories that he'd get woozy and lightheaded, giving the brunette the excuse to rob him of his money or something like that.
And Ryoma decided to himself if that indeed did happen to him, he'd hit a homer, scream rape, and run away.
Okay. Way too many fiction books lately.
So in the end, Ryoma had picked the theaters out of the possible choices of bowling, swimming, and paintball, two of which included heavy items that could possibly kill no matter how secure their safety precautions were. The remaining choice had included for him to show off more skin than he thought necessary, and there was always a chance for Fuji, no matter how calm and relaxed he seemed, to go crazy and evil at the sight and start thinking with another organ besides his brain. So movie it was.
As people could evidently tell, Ryoma was one to trust easily. And it didn't help that his mind was unusually imaginative today.
Once they had gotten there, Ryoma had chosen the movie as well. He hadn't been very keen on all the sappy romancey and soap-operaish stuff they had (date + enclosed area + kissing + Fuji bad idea), and the children movies weren't really appealing either. Getting desperate from the overdose of pink and fluffy hearts, he'd finally spotted the one movie out of all of them that wasn't sporting a drawn cartoon or two people busy sucking face on its cover. And… it turned out to be a horrible, long, insanely frightening horror movie. And also another extremely bad idea.
"Scared?" A smile.
"No." And that was that.
It didn't help that Fuji put his arm around him in the middle of the movie. Okay, so that too could have been Ryoma's fault, considering the fact that he was practically molding his face into the brunette's chest (hey! He didn't like horror! He hated it! He despised it! And besides, it was a stupid way to get rich), but still, it gave the brunette no excuse to touch him back. He had half an urge to pull away and give the prodigy a piece of his terrified mind ("Uh, hi? Knock knock? First date here. Get it? Meaning no touching whatsoever. So shod off, perv!") before running away as fast as he could, but he didn't really think it'd be a polite way to blow one off. He also highly doubted that he'd be able to outrun the prodigy. There was a disadvantage in being short after all.
And besides, for some reason, it was strangely safe in Fuji's arms…
Dammit. Falling… for… sneaky… conspiracy…
They made it back to Ryoma's house without any incident, unless you counted the fact that Fuji had found it his duty to walk the golden-eyed boy back home in the first place an incident. Ryoma barely noticed they had arrived, thinking desperately of some way to get things back to normal, until the brunette sighed and tapped his nose lightly with a finger.
"Echizen," he whispered softly. "We're back."
Ryoma blinked, squinting up at his house. Oh. So they were.
"Ah… um…" he trailed off, peeking through one of the side windows and narrowing his eyes, realizing that Kikumaru and Momo were in the kitchen. The two noticed him and waved, mouths bulging with food. God, didn't they have anyone else to bother? He cleared his throat, turning back to glance quickly at the brunette, who had his head cocked to a side, blue eyes open.
"Something wrong?" he asked quietly, and the concern in his eyes, real this time, was enough to make Ryoma weak in the knees.
Argh.
"Um, thanks, Fuji-sempai, but…" He swallowed, mind at sudden loss of words. Fuji must have done something to him in the movie theater; why else was he at a blank? When he continued to blink stupidly, the brunette smiled.
"Well then," the prodigy said lightly, gently stroking Ryoma's cheek with a finger, who would have backed away had it not been for the door already behind him. "Goodnight then." His hand dropped from his face and found its way to Ryoma's, whose heart was now thundering so furiously he was surprised it didn't fly from his chest right there and then.
A sense of dread settling in his stomach, he was about to start clawing his way to freedom when Fuji brushed the younger boy's chin, fingers firm and warm, surprisingly soft of years and years of hard work and tennis.
Seconds later, his mouth settled gently on top of Ryoma's, lips light and soft.
Like water.
Feathers.
Petals.
Ryoma almost fainted from shock, until he reminded himself that he, Echizen Ryoma, did not faint, and especially did not faint over such trivial matters such as shock (though perhaps there was now an exception). There was a soft urgency with the way Fuji kissed him, an urgency that began to build as the kiss deepened. He tasted a mild sweetness, a mix of sugar and spice. It was so exhilarating, so perfect, so… Fuji. He could find no other word for it.
He didn't know what to do, though something told him that he shouldn't be just standing around with a dazed expression on his face.
Hesitantly, he lifted his arms, slipping them around the brunette's neck, before pulling him closer… as close as close could be…
Nothing else seemed to matter anymore. It was a simple kiss, nothing hot and desperate, but long and sweet. Being from Fuji, it was absolutely perfect.
And then, he realized with a jolt, he'd always wanted this.
The world suddenly made sense again.
The brunette pulled away, and Ryoma growled angrily, wanting more, hands still clamped firmly, selfishly, around the other's neck, refusing to let him pull away. Fuji merely smiled at him, and it was his usual smile now, still sweet and soft, but laced with a small tinge of amusement. Blinking, Ryoma caught a glimmer of mischievous blue before they disappeared behind eyelids. A thought suddenly struck him.
He had been wrong, thinking that Fuji had gone on their date with no schedule in mind. That stupid bastard had this planned all along.
Fuji cut him off before he could get a word out. "Didn't bother you much, though, did it?"
Ryoma briefly wondered if Fuji could read minds.
"No, not really," the brunette whispered softly in the younger boy's ear, biting Ryoma's earlobe gently as he held the boy close to his chest. "I just have a knack for reading people."
"So…" Kikumaru drawled, slinging an arm around a stunned Ryoma as he closed the door behind himself shakily. "When's the next date?" He sniggered slightly but forced back on a straight face when the younger boy turned to blink blankly at him. "Momo and I saw you out there. Sneaky sneaky, Ochibi. Didn't know you had it in you!"
Behind the redhead, Momo agreed around a mouthful of chocolate.
Ryoma barely took anything in. Not even his father's grin was enough to snap him back up again ("Will you look at that! My Ryoma, gettin' it on with the older ladies!"). His heart was lodged uncomfortably in his chest, stomach lurching. He was dizzy, breathless, and just as confused as he usually was when life took him for another random, expeditious spin.
But sometime during the night, his world had popped back into place again.
- Fin -