Disclaimer: All creative rights to the Prince of Tennis plot and characters belong to Konomi Takeshi.
Author's Note: Fanta is the brand of soda Ryoma drinks in the manga while Ponta is what Ryoma drinks in the anime.

Vertically Challenged

Ryoma was annoyed.

He glared at the last can of grape Fanta that was sitting on the unreachable third rack of the refrigerator. His bottom lip pursed over his front teeth in the impression that he was either giving the soda can a sour look or the fridge itself. The one watching the young boy wasn't sure which it was.

A smirk danced upon the observer's sun-chapped lips as he lifted an unpeeled orange up to them, taking a swift bite. The orange juices oozed down his chin until he quickly wiped it off with the back of his hand. In his other hand was a wooden tennis racket, the one that Nanjiroh had specifically given him on the day he came to live with this family. He had been under the man's coaching almost everyday since then.

Ryoma shut the refrigerator door with a small slam, one that Ryoga couldn't possible hear since he was watching through the window from the outside. Ryoga decided to watch for a few more minutes before he would go inside to join Ryoma in the kitchen.

After pulling out a chair that was considerably bigger than Ryoma, the boy climbed on and sat down. He then propped up his head with his small fists, moping as he stared at nothingness.

Raising a slim brow, having a feeling that Ryoma was going to stay like that unless something happened, Ryoga decided it was time to go inside. As soon as he stepped into the house, the temperature noticeably dropped. Was it really that hot outside? Ryoga wondered.

"What'cha doin'?" the eldest of the two asked, grinning.

"Nothing," Ryoma said blankly. He didn't even look at Ryoga.

After setting his racket and half-eaten orange on the counter, Ryoga went over to the fridge.

"Oh? It seems like there's something on your mind…" he trailed off as he looked around the inside of the fridge, discreetly searching for what Ryoma could've possibly been reaching for until his gaze trained upon a can of Fanta. Reaching out for it, Ryoga grasped his hand around it and pulled it out.

Snap.

Ryoga popped the tab and, instead of taking a sip, watched for a reaction at the corner of his eye. And oh did he get one all right. The stare of Ryoma's wide eyes glued upon the can in Ryoga's grip, his stare magnetized to it. Satisfied with the reaction, Ryoga took a sip in front of the poor boy that gulped hungrily at the sight.

With his lips still on the rim of the can, Ryoga wondered what Ryoma was going to do next. Will he ask for some? Will he start crying because Ryoga took the last one? Ryoma just stayed motionless with his eyes fixated on the can.

"Hmm? What is it?" Ryoga held up the can. "Do you want some?"

Immediately, Ryoma shook his head and scrunched up his nose.

"No," he said sternly, disgusted, and looked away to stare out the window Ryoga was looking in from a few minutes ago.

Shrugging casually, Ryoga placed the Fanta down on the kitchen counter, picked up his things, and went back outside to find Nanjiroh. He returned to the place where he was watching Ryoma earlier and looked back. He then broke out into a fit of snickers.

Ryoma had tried to reach for the same can again, only to find out that he still couldn't reach it.

End