Standard Disclaimer:

Prince of Tennis and all its characters do not—unfortunately—belong to me, and are designed and created by Takeshi Konomi. However, the plot 'Unravelling Tezuka Kunimitsu, and all the original characters that will be in it are mine.

Author's Note:

Alright, here I go again. This is my second attempt at writing fan fiction. I must admit, I am quite nervous about writing this one, since it's purely based on inspiration and a product of my active imagination. I don't know how this will fair with my first story 'Battle of the Tensais', since, as I have mentioned, it is not based on a true story.

The concept of the story has something to do with telepathy and for that I will be attempting to use a different style of writing. You will find that there will be a lot of person to person POV shifts, and I plan on shifting between first person to third person narration. Do you think it's a good idea? It's purpose is to add effect to the story's psychokinetic gist. Don't worry, if I find it too confusing, I'll fix it up straight away.

So on to the Summary...

Summary:

When God decided to shower the world with blessings, Tezuka Kunimitsu, the walking iceberg, just had to pass by with his umbrella upside down. Too bad the typical human ability of 'expression' was out of God's "Blessing List" that time. So, because of his lack of 'conversational skills' and natural impassiveness, Tezuka Kunimitsu remains to be one of the biggest unsolved mysteries known to man.

Well, that's all about to change as a new girl, set apart by God to hold the power of telepathy, transfers to Seishun Gakuen Middle School and decides to invade the unchartered territory that is Tezuka Kunimitsu's brain. Will the, ironically, perplexing block of ice push the immensely curious mind reader to abuse her abilities to the extent of becoming fixated? Or will she be able to stop before she learns he is a puzzle she should have never attempted to unravel?

/...character thoughts.../

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Part I

Introducing Kazue Tomoyo.

--Seishun Gakuen Middle School--

Anxiety undermined me as I stared in awe at the towering structure before me. I have done this a number times before, but perhaps the concept of 'permanence', which has recently been inputted in my mental dictionary, contributed to the growing sense of apprehension within me. Slowly, I began to feel myself become intimidated by vast enormity of the remarkably outstanding learning establishment—what most people, myself included, colloquially refer to as 'school'—ahead. Admiring the grandiose of the complex from an outsider's perspective a final time, I straightened my distastefully mint green skirt, despite it being nowhere near the word 'pleated', and walked through the prison-barred gates.

After a few minutes of blind circling and aimless wandering, I finally reached the end of my self-guided 'expedition' when I accidentally, quite fortunately, stumbled upon the campus' administration office. I came to realize that if I'd opted to continue walking straight from the main entrance, I would have saved tremendous 'quanta of energy' that I could have utilised for more imperative matters, such as solving math problems, or preventing myself from committing physical blunder during P.E. I mentally kicked myself for having carelessly failed to spot the bold-faced sign that was impossible to miss. It was like the gigantic 'M' sign of a McDonald's restaurant stationed in the middle of the Arabian Desert, all it lacked was the neon lighting. Figuring there was no point in mulling over the trivial experience, I shakily gripped the round, silver door knob and nervously let myself in.

I was greeted by a plump, middle-aged, purple-clad woman, who welcomed me with a warm, hospitable smile. I introduced myself, and she did the same. She then proceeded to leafing through a stack of coloured papers and eventually I found myself staring silently at the creases on her forehead while I waited. Wisdom marks, my mother often corrected me, whenever I would poke fun at her growing number of wrinkles.

She handed me an envelope with selected papers from the stack. Thereafter she gave me a black leather-bound book, with the words 'Seishun Gakuen Planner' on the cover. Logically I assumed this was my school diary. She then branded a stiff piece of paper with what I presumed to be the school stamp, and then handed me a slip after having torn on the perforation. She told me it was a form to get an identification card, and instructed me to head to the Library on my free time to get my I.D. photo taken. I inspected my envelope to see if all my essentials were in check; timetable, a copy of the school map, I.D. form, diary and a copy of the student handbook—which I'm quite certain I will not be reading. Seeing everything was there, I bade the administrator, Ms. Miyako, goodbye. She told me "Good luck!" before I made my way out.

After shutting the door behind me, I fished my timetable out of the large envelope. I read the top, left-hand corner twice to see what section I belonged to. "3-1", I registered clearly and then rummaged through the stack to get my copy of the school map. I began to trudge leftward after tracing the shortest route to my newly assigned classroom. The map was straight-forward, and so painlessly guided me to my class. As soon as I was able to identify the "3-1" sign, I instantly felt my heart race, my palms sweat and my knees wobble. I was nervous.

I stood behind the sliding door and knocked a few times, three to be exact. The door was slid open by a scrawny, vertically challenged woman, my 170-something centimetres stature easily towered over. By a rough estimate, I would guess her to be around her mid 20s, her 'neophyte-educator' image was what I used as basis. She ushered me to the middle of the teacher's podium, instructed me to introduce myself to the class, went to a tiny crevice far too small to be called a 'corner', and left me to tread deep waters and become shark bait to highly a curious-looking group of teenagers. I fidgeted, practically choked, and started sweating like a fat man on a treadmill, when I struggled to begin my introduction. It was no more comforting that everyone in the room mentally played '50 questions' in their heads, deafening my ears and straining my pulsating brain with every word that was thought by different people at the same moment.

Yes, you read it right. "Mentally played", "every word thought". You see, from a stranger's perspective, I am but an average human being, fully equipped with typical human attributes: two eyes, two ears, one mouth, one nose, ten toes, ten fingers—okay, so let's not get into too much detail. However, unknown to these 'outsiders' is my unique special ability that makes me different, distinct, yet elusively above the rest of the world's teenage population.

You see, when I was but a toddler, around one or one and a half years of age, my parents were surprised to find that I, their only child, was already capable of engaging in a full, intellectual conversation. By the early age of three, when my parents had finally found courage to seek help from specialists, we discovered why.

At that tender age, I have learned that I possess the ability to hear people's thoughts, read their minds, whichever way you want to call it. Of course my parents were quite cynical about the idea at first, but it was a very reasonable explanation to how I was able to, at such an innocent age, communicate like people beyond my years did. So, not long after, my parents and I have accepted the fact that I was—what all the specialists we sought help from coined—a telepath. And since having accepted this revelation, my whole life, until 2 years ago, has forever been dedicated to honing, controlling and perfecting this one-of-a-kind ability.

So there you go, story of my life. Well, it's a rapid summary. My apologies for having the tendency to digress. Now where were we?

I closed my eyes, a practice I have developed to clear my head of the unwanted sounds.

"Anou..." I heard my soprano voice mutter. /Don't stuff it up now!/ I lectured myself to become motivated to continue.

"Konnichiwa minna-san. Watashi wa Kazue Tomoyo desu. Hajimemashite."

The worst was finally over. I can breathe again. I was quite ecstatic at the fact that I had prevented myself from stammering before concluding my introduction. I straightened from my bowing position as I heard my homeroom teacher speak. She was now outside the tiny crevice from which she hid.

"We're glad to have you with us Kazue-chan. My name is Miss Okita." I bowed again as the scrawny woman that was to be in charge of my homeroom class introduced herself.

"Would you mind telling the class a few things about yourself? Perhaps something that you think distinguishes you from the rest of the class?"

I stiffened at my teacher's innocent request. You do understand that from my perspective, the question would not seem so harmless.

"Um... F-few things?" I stuttered. "Like what?" I asked with my best 'innocent look'. In my head I heard the class erupt in laughter. I felt my cheeks burn despite the classroom's actual undisrupted silence.

"Hmm... It's up to you. Maybe a hobby, or special talent?" I heard her suggest.

"Special Talent?" I nearly squeaked as I panicked to think of something. /Ah, What the heck! May as well give 'em a surprise/ I thought, finally giving in to the pressure of revealing my special talent.

"Well..." I started, then smiled when I saw my classmates' ears perk up. My confidence was slowly growing. "I do have a few talents I could share with the class." I announced, putting my black backpack down and proceeded to rummaging the front pocket. I revealed a deck of cards and my school mates instantly looked on with interest.

"Let me show you my cool party trick." I winked.

"Are there any volunteers?" I inquired. Immediately hands went flying in the air. I randomly pointed to a mousy boy with a greasy black mop for hair wearing soda-bottle glasses. /Why him?/ I asked myself, convulsed by the choice I had made.

"May I know your name?" I asked, an attempt to make myself sound like a professional entertainer.

I heard his nervous, shrill voice say, "Koutarou."

"Hello, Koutarou-kun." I greeted. "Would you like to pick a card? Any card." I spread the deck of cards out and held it up using both hands. The back of the cards faced me, of course. He shakily picked a card in the middle of the stack. I spun around to face the whiteboard and instructed Koutarou to memorize his selected card, then after, show it to the spectators. I smirked as I heard my classmates' growing murmurs of excitement.

"Yup." He signalled, sounding more at ease with me now. I stood behind Koutarou and then turned to face the class. I put my hand on his shoulder and closed my eyes, for effect. But you see, this notion isn't merely for show.

You see, telepathy—the power to read minds—isn't as simple as perusing an open book. I have learned that Film and Television have largely contributed to the debasing of this unique ability, blatantly presenting to the public incorrect portrayals of my psychokinetic ability. To put it simply, it doesn't work the way you think it does.

Like everything, there are certain... rules to mind reading. To be able to read a person's mind, a specific, single person's thoughts, a telepath must establish some sort of connection. Without this connection, a telepath can only either: listen to a wild chorus of thoughts from all the surrounding people that are within a 2 kilometre radius—my estimation, or to not 'eavesdrop' at all. Some sort of link is required to be able to focus on a single person. And once you concentrate on reading a single person's mind, everything else is tuned out.

There are different types of connections a telepath can establish. The deeper the connection, the more finely attuned to that person the telepath becomes. One way of 'connecting' is through physical contact, like my hand on Koutarou-kun's shoulder. Of course, such a shallow link only allows the telepath to tune into that certain person's thoughts for a limited amount of time and a restricted distance. Such deeper connections, like a maternal or paternal link, allows one such as me to tune into my parents' thoughts, no matter how far they may be. I could opt to go inside my mother's head at this very moment to see if she's come up with a menu for dinner!

And again you find me going off the tangent. My sincerest apologies, again.

I concentrated on reading Koutarou's thoughts before opening my eyes. A smirk played on my lips as I met the class' excited eyes. "And the card you picked is..." I paused to keep the audience at the edge of their seats.

After getting what I wanted, I removed my hand on Koutarou's shoulder, then I put my index and middle finger on my temple, to seem as if I really was in deep thought.

"The king of diamonds." I declared with confidence. The series of 'ooh's' and 'aah's' that followed were no surprise, as were the 'HOW DID SHE DO THAT?s' that echoed in more than 80 percent of my classmates' minds.

"Magic." I simply stated, beating them to the punch. I bowed, like how magicians do after the end of every act, while a loud applause resonated in the entire classroom.

"That was very impressive." Miss Okita commended. As soon as my new classmates settled down, she put her bony index finger on her chin and started to scan the room in search of a vacant seat.

"Ah!" I saw her eyes gleam as she succeeded in spotting an empty desk. "Tezuka-kun, would you please raise your hand?" She requested. I quickly traced her gaze and found myself nearly gawking at the radiant being that obediently held his hand up. Please don't misunderstand, other than my admiration for his physical perfection, I felt no romantic attraction toward my strapping, soon-to-be seatmate.

Out of curiosity, I turned my 'psychic mode' on to see how the females would react. I soon regretted that decision as a series of unified whining, moaning and groaning filled my mind. Turning 'psychic mode' off, I thought /Heh! Predictable.../ The magnitude of my soon-to-be-seatmate's popularity with the opposite sex was really something to marvel at.

As soon as I reached my assigned seat, I hung my bag on the hook attached to the side of my new desk. Pulling the chair away from the table, I sat myself down and braced myself for my last first day of school.

/Look cool because today it's all for good./ I reminded myself as I recalled my personal vendetta, which is: to be able to exponentially expand my social circle. I inhaled deeply one more time, thrilled by the thought that today, I am finally able to live a life of normalcy. I heard Miss Okita begin to drone, and I looked around to find that all my classmates have started to discreetly engage in their own 'recreational activities'; hushed chatter or surreptitiously doodling on their notebooks. I smirked. It was just like how I'd seen in movies.

I then glanced at my seatmate, curious to see what mischief he was up to, and found myself nearly fall flat on my face with what I saw. There he was, sitting quietly on his seat, obviously paying close attention to our teacher's lecture, while everyone else enjoyed their private conversations. And here I thought he was the type to surreptitiously dally with AT LEAST one of the members of his excessive female fan base while the teacher's back was turned, what with his impeccable good looks and all.

/Have I wasted my life watching deceitful, misleading high school movies? Are teenage boys really like this? Or is this Tezuka person just clearly someone out of the ordinary?/

I decided to wait a few more minutes into the class—Social Studies, I thought it was—to observe my seemingly diligent seatmate again. I noticed there was no change in his facial expression at all, he remained stoic and unfazed by what went on around him. He was still diligently taking notes and intently listening to every word Miss Okita said.

/Are you not going to do anything else? Possibly something close to 'juvenile' or 'delinquent'? Or juvenile delinquent?!/ I spoke to him in my head. /Surely no one is THAT perfect?/ I inwardly scoffed in disbelief.

/Not a talker eh? How peculiar.../ I thought as I secretly observed him from my seat. I began to feel a deep sense of foreboding that told me this Tezuka-san MAY indeed be 'all that'. No. I refuse to believe someone so unspoiled lives to walk on this earth.

/There's only one way to find out./ A sly smile crept on my lips as I finally committed to initiating the devious ploy I have conjured in my head a few moments ago, but have been refraining to do so because of its 'moral repugnance.'

/Forgive me for submitting to my much too curious mind, Tezuka-san. I am only human./

I deliberately dropped my black pen on the floor, close to where the foot of his chair was. I saw his lashes flicker slightly when he averted his gaze from the whiteboard to the floor, his rimless, oval glasses slipping just slightly off the bridge of his nose as he bent down to retrieve the black ballpoint.

"I believe this is yours." I heard his deep, monotone voice say, referring to the 'naughty' black pen that 'accidentally' landed in his possession. He impassively stared at me while patiently waiting for me to regain my composure and take the pen off his hand.

"Arigatou." I finally said after poising myself.

"Aa..." He merely shrugged it off, his naturally detached demeanour further poking my curiosity.

"Anou, I'm Kazue Tomoyo by the way. Tezuka-san, was it?" I stretched my hand out to initiate a handshake.

"Hai. Tezuka Kunimitsu. Dozo Yoroshiku." He replied in his naturally mundane tone as he closed the gap between my slightly sweaty palm and his incredibly warm one.

/Mission accomplished/

I resisted the urge to smile triumphantly.

--

XXXXXXXX

Author's Note:

So, how did you find it? My sister says it's better written than 'Battle of the Tensais!', but I'd like to know how it fares story-wise? Should I continue it (I know there's still much to be revealed)? Or leave it as a one-shot (As my sister said would be fine as well)?

Also, I'd like to ask for some opinions about changing the narration from first person point of view to third person point of view? The purpose of this is stated at the above author's note.

I know I haven't even completed my first story yet, but inspiration just hit me and I had to write it down!

Sorry, fixed that things that didn't make sense just now. Annoying how I find them after having just posted the story!

Please don't forget to review on your way out! Even a really short one would do just fine. THANK YOU!