Happy Very Belated Birthday to Awin-chan, who still takes the time to correct my work!
I write now because I don't have homework yet- when I'll get them, the updates will take more times to come. Until then, please enjoy the story!
Bold means English.
Disclaimer: If Prince of Tennis were mine, you would see Ryoga much more often!
-Chapter 4-
"Chibisuke didn't tell you? I'm his older brother!"
Fuji stared at Ryoga oddly for a long moment. "Echizen doesn't have any brothers. He doesn't have any sisters either."
Ryoga's eyebrows rose high on his forehead.
"He has me," the teenager said, puzzled that Ryoma didn't tell anyone about him. "I come from America."
To his disappointment, the tennis player still looked at him suspiciously.
"Siblings don't just pop out from America," the tensai insisted stubbornly.
After all, as quiet as the freshman may be, he would have informed them about something this important, right?
Yet Fuji had to admit that the boy was Ryoma's spitting image, only taller and older.
Ryoga scowled, not giving any reply, and Fuji thought there was something weird about his silence. It felt painful. As if the subject was too sensitive.
The brunet decided to test his theory.
"Let's say I believe you. Why would the Echizens leave you behind, in America?"
Ryoga's reaction left no doubt about his sincerity- a hurt look had flashed in the hazel eyes, followed by a pained grimace. "That's nothing I want to discuss with a stranger," he answered quietly. "Especially in public."
Yes, there was something about that boy, Fuji decided. Something Fuji itched to discover.
"You're his brother then." Fuji pushed further. "So why is Echizen ignoring you?"
Ryoga bit his lips, glancing hopefully at the tennis court. No such chance: the small boy was still too caught up in his game to notice them. "I have no idea…"
In a second, Fuji had analyzed the entire situation and made his mind. "Echizen is hard to grasp," he revealed, his lips curving up in a calculative smile. "Maybe I can help you?"
He politely stretched his arm, inviting Ryoga to shake his hand. The latter boy eyed the motion warily but made no move to comply.
"My name is Fuji Syusuke. I'm a player on Ryoma's team."
Ryoga nodded. "I'm Echizen Ryoga."
When Ryoga advanced his hand, Fuji noticed the multiple scars on it… and marvelled its warmth and softness the moment it closed around his own.
Definitively, Echizen Ryoga was a mystery waiting to be solved.
--
"Game and match, Tezuka. 6 games to 4."
Ryoma's shoulders fell in defeat. He would need to train harder in order to beat his captain. Perhaps he could get to play with Ryoga…
Speaking of which…
He turned to the place where his brother had been standing, earlier, but it was empty of the boy's presence. Travelling his eyes around the area, Ryoma realized that the teenager was nowhere to be seen.
"Is there something wrong, Echizen?" Tezuka, who had come to the net for the handshake, frowned in concern.
Ryoma shook his head. "No, nothing…. Did you see a tall boy over there?"
He pointed to the vacant spot and Tezuka nodded. "The boy who was yelling for you?"
"Yes," Ryoma confirmed, feeling his cheeks heating up.
Tezuka didn't comment. "He left with Fuji."
Boy wonder almost gaped- but refrained from doing so. "Che. With Fuji-senpai, eh?"
With a sneer, he left the court.
… Only to be stopped by Momoshiro.
"Echizen! Who was that guy who came for you?"
Ryoma pulled his cap on his forehead. "Why would I tell you?"
"Because I'm your best friend!" Momo replied hotly, never getting use to the brat's rudeness.
The short kid eyed the taller one cautiously.
"Treat me to burgers, Momo-senpai," he finally said, earning himself a big grin.
--
Munch. Munch. Swallow. Bite. Munch. Munch.
Momoshiro watched avidly as his companion devoured his second burger. Money wasn't the one thing that made his pockets heavy- he didn't have enough to buy himself something- but he didn't mind treating his junior in order to get exclusive information.
Now, if only Ryoma told him something…
But no. The darn thing kept quiet, eating silently and oh so slowly!
Worst: he was avoiding Momoshiro's inquiring gaze.
At long last, he muttered that he was done and that, well, thanks Momo-senpai.
"Don't thank me, just spit it out."
Rolling his eyes, the child complied none the less. "A relative."
And then he rose, ready to go back home.
"What!? No way you're only telling me that!" Momo shot up, yelling after his friend (and attracting curious stares).
Ryoma shrugged, apparently not caring that he might get a bad reputation for not sticking to his word. "I changed my mind."
Momoshiro scowled at the small boy, his mind screaming for a bloody murder.
Take a deep breath. You can do it.
"You can trust me, you know."
Ryoma stared back, wondering slightly why his senpai was making such a big deal out of it- but it was his senpai, so it was to be expected.
After a short reflection, he decided that everybody would know soon enough- no harm could be caused by the insignificant revelation.
"Ryoga," Ryoma declared, plopping back onto his seat, "is my older brother."
Luckily for his eardrums, the confession had rendered his best friend speechless.
"He just came back from America," Ryoma explained, his voice weary, if not bored. "For years, he hadn't live with us because…"
He stopped his speech abruptly, and a mix of irritation and confusion traced his features.
"Because?" Momoshiro pressed, regaining his voice and sounding terribly interested.
It took a long moment before Ryoma gave any indication he had heard the question.
"I don't know," he whispered guiltily. "I truly have no idea…"
And Momoshiro didn't insist for Ryoma's guilt spoke not of falsity, but of harsh truth.
--
Meanwhile…
"Finally!"
The loud voice echoed through the voice of Seishun Gakuen Middle School and the man earned himself a few glares.
He brushed them away- Americans had far more important things to do than caring about another one's opinion. Instead, he strode towards the secretary where he found a frail woman in her mid-thirties.
"Echizen Ryoga. I'm looking for him."
At first, the lady seemed a bit surprised but she opened her files and shifted into professional mode.
"You are?"
The stranger made up some lie and inquired whether the young Echizen had club activities after classes. He felt his lips twisting into a smirk when he heard that, as he guessed, the boy attended the tennis club.
To cover his smug expression, he left as soon as the info sank- meaning he didn't get the part where she warned him that it was over already.
--
"Echizen?"
Tezuka's ears perked up upon hearing Ryoma's name being shouted all around the tennis courts. Repressing a sigh, he got up and out the clubhouse, bracing himself to discuss with whoever looked for one of his regulars.
"Echizen! Stop hiding, it's time to settle the scores!"
Spine stiffening, Tezuka scanned the newcomer- adult, blond, beefy and English-speaking- and pondered on the meaning of the previous taunting.
Instinct told Tezuka that the guy wasn't referring to tennis.
So the teenager waited, waited until the man reached him.
"Excuse me," he spoke calmly, cautiously, "but do you have the authorization to be in here?"
The man looked down on him, amused and contemptuous laughter in his eyes. "Whatever. Seen the Echizen brat around?"
Tezuka twitched.
"Twenty laps."
The order got nothing but a snicker. "Who are you, kiddo, to order me around?"
"Thirty."
"No way-"
"Forty. Now."
Outraged by the authority emanating from the middle school student, the man tried to spit some insults in the boy's face-
-but ended up running fifty laps.
A good thing boss doesn't make us race like that, he mused while thanking the stars he was born with a good heart (in the biological sense).
Though even with a strong heart, he doubted anyone could run a marathon like that and stay unfazed…
He was facing a near-death experience, that was for sure, when his legs gave out under him.
"Too bad," a cold voice rang above him. "You still had one more to go."
American Guy did not get a word of it. "What?"
With his leftover strength, he raised his eyes to his interlocutor.
"Do you want anything to drink?"
For a second, the man wondered if that boy was sent from Heaven. "Yes…"
An opaque cup appeared in the teen's hands.
"I can't manage to raise my arms," the fallen warrior grunted, his voice coming out raspy.
Grinning, his savior kneeled before him. "I'll help you then."
The sent automatically invaded his nostrils. It reminded him of blackberries, coffee, ramen, leather, oil and so many other things…
Oh well, he'd go with it, whatever those Japanese people could pull off.
He just needed to drink.
And the boy was taking a perverse pleasure out of making him wait.
But then, finally, the cup reached his parched lips and he smiled.
"So there is justice on this Earth."
The bespectacled boy raised an eyebrow but said nothing, only watching as the panting man took a long sip out of his new deluxe tea cocktail.
Watched as the face of his vis-à-vis contorted in disgust.
"Indeed there is."
Those were the last words the blond guy heard before fainting.
Inui grinned. That new and now beta'ed juice could be call Stupid American.01
"Tezuka," he called his teammate, "what are we going to do with his body?"
--
When he woke up, hours later in a dirty and sweaty outfit, Blond Guy realized that he had been thrown in a gutter.
Shaking with rage, he vowed to the sky to never again approach Seigaku.
Sorry for the long overdue chapter!! And to say I promised to keep it regular... anyway, thanks for reading and...
Dare I even ask for a review?