A Prince of Tennis fanfic. One-shot.
SanaYuki pairing a.k.a. alpha pair

Story: Tears

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.

Author's note: This is more of a reflection of a personal experience than a real fanfiction, so if the characters appear to be OOC, please excuse me. And yes, I know Kantou final was on the same day as his surgery. It has been a long time, so I hope you enjoy it. If you don't, well, a more typical yukisana fanfic will probably be out in December 2011! (I'm pretty sure it'll be Apology.)

Dedication: For bunny. Thank you for beta-reading this story. And of course, thank you for always being there for me.

Please review!

It was Friday. Not Tuesday as Yukimura had thought.

It was the hurried footsteps on the linoleum floor that woke him. Yukimura opened his eyes slowly, squinting under the harsh fluorescent lighting. He turned his head to escape the glare, but found his neck stiff and unable to be twisted.

Where am I?

He suddenly realised he recognised nothing of this place: the white walls, the monotonous beeping that never stopped, the stinging smell of disinfectant… With a grunt, Yukimura forced his body to turn on its side, gasping in pain and exhaustion when the process was completed. He noticed the cannula that jutted from his wrist before catching his own reflection on the heart rate monitor screen. His heart almost skipped a beat.

His head was bandaged like a mummy and the left side of his face was blackish purple, the result of a bruise. "Nii-san!" his younger sister's familiar voice jolted him from his shock, "you're finally awake!" Sayu walked around the bed and kneeled in front of him so she could look at him in the eye. "How do you feel? Are you okay? Are you feeling better?" Her bombardment of questions made him smile, but he stopped when the stretched muscles burned in pain.

"I'm…" Yukimura stopped mid-sentence. He wanted to reassure his sister and his parents, who had just walked into the room, that he was fine (which he doubt he was), but his voice was gone. It was a raspy breath of air, coarse like sandpaper. The effort of making a noise made him cough violently, which immediately induced worried looks and the concern of a nurse.

After that, Yukimura gave up moving or talking.

He gathered from the conversation between his parents and a man who looked like a doctor that he was in Kanai General Hospital's Intensive Care Unit. He had fallen while waiting for a train. Sustaining injuries when he fell, he had been unconscious for a few days.

But no one knew why he fell.

Sanada had never been so nervous all his life, not even at his first official tennis match.

He had not seen Yukimura since he was admitted to hospital. Although his family assured him Yukimura was getting better, Sanada could not help but wish he could visit Yukimura as well. Sitting outside the Intensive Care Unit every day since Yukimura's collapse, Sanada felt more and more anxious as each day passed.

What if he would never see Yukimura again?

His heart clenched at the terrifying thought.

A week later, Yukimura was well enough to be moved to the neurology ward. His room had a nice view, but it often pained him to see the azure sky, which he once loved so dearly, for it was only a pressing reminder that he was trapped. The sky was beyond reach.

He had refused to see his team, much to their disappointment, especially Sanada. Yukimura could not stand anyone seeing him in his pathetic state. He allowed Sanada to call him during emergencies, but most of the time he would write the training plan despite the pain it caused his arm. Although embarrassed by his current condition, Yukimura worked hard to regain his former strength. He completed his exercises with the aid of his physiotherapist every day and followed the doctors' instructions carefully.

This is simply another obstacle, he told himself resolutely, it will make me stronger when I recover.

The speed at which he regained his mobility surprised the doctors although it was too slow for him. Yukimura, after another week of hard work, could finally walk without assistance. He could not delay his return to his team. It was where he belonged, not this prison that smelt of artificial air.

But his efforts were almost wasted.

He had needed to use the bathroom but the nurses were busy taking care of a patient who was having a psychotic fit. Yukimura waited, not wishing to be another burden for the nurses. After an hour, however, the noise next door had not only increased but crashes and bangs were added to the chaos. Ignoring the nurses' instructions, Yukimura decided to not wait any longer. After all, he was old enough to go to the bathroom by himself, wasn't he?

He slipped off the bed carefully and put on his slippers. Evening was approaching and the chilly air gave him goosebumps. Pulling his jersey over his hospital gown, he walked towards the bathroom slowly. Suddenly, he felt a little dizzy. Yukimura closed his eyes and put his hands to his temples.

The next thing he realised, he was lying on the cold floor. Hearing the thump, a nurse had rushed into his room. "Yukimura-kun," she asked, kneeling next to him, her hand on his shoulder, "can you hear me?" Yukimura replied with a nod, his face flushing red. "You should not have gone by yourself!" she reprimanded him as she helped him back onto the bed. The doctor, who arrived swiftly after the nurse called him, gave him an equally long lecture as he examined him for injuries.

Sorry for the trouble, was all Yukimura could mutter.

Luckily, he was not hurt from his fall, and two days later, for the first time since his collapse, he permitted his team to visit.

Yukimura had made sure the bruise on his face had faded. The last thing he wanted was for them to be distracted before the Kantou tournament began. "How are the preparations going?" He asked, hoping his voice did not sound weak and airy – he did not want to lose any more of his dignity.

"It's on track," Sanada said firmly.

"We're better than on track," Kirihara rolled his eyes, "Sanada-fukubuchou makes us run double the laps nowadays."

Sanada turned away, hiding his blush.

"Keep up the good work then," Yukimura smiled.

Everyone was glad to see Yukimura's smile. But Sanada could see the pain behind it.

He knew Yukimura suffered more than he showed, or perhaps more than he even realised himself. Yukimura's fists often clenched when he thought no one was looking. He was suffocating.

He smiled, but he was crying inside.

Sanada could see that despite getting better physically, Yukimura's spirit was deteriorating, his will waning and his motivation fading. Watching Yukimura become further and further from his former self made Sanada want to simply walk out of the room.

The thought of losing Yukimura, his captain and closest friend, was unbearable. It was nauseating.

A painful gasp pulled Sanada away from his thoughts.

Yukimura was leaning forward, beads of sweat sliding down his forehead. His left hand was clutching his shirt tightly, his right gripping the safety rail on the side of his bed. Gasps of pain escaped from his lips as he tried to suppress his urge to moan. The room spun around him, fading into darkness as everything blurred.

"Buchou!" The team was thrown into a state of panic.

"The buzzer!" Kirihara dived for the buzzer, slamming his thumb repeatedly against the button.

"Yukimura!"

"Buchou, hang on!"

Sanada watched as the beeping of the heart rate monitor increased and became more and more irregular. Yukimura's blood pressure was rising steadily. Sanada could hear his heart thumping against his ribcage as he watched Yukimura. Every second felt like a lightyear. Where is the nurse?

Finally, the nurse rushed in, and upon seeing Yukimura, called for the doctor immediately. She told the team to leave the room as the doctor entered. Sanada caught the dimming glimmer in Yukimura's eyes just as he retreated. His eyes had become lifeless, consumed by pain.

"He's fine," the nurse informed the team briefly when she exited the room half an hour later. The team breathed a sigh of relief, except for Sanada, who buried his face in his hands.

The team was silent as they watched him. Perhaps it was fear, or maybe it was relief. But never had they seen such an outpour of emotion from their strict vice-captain.

It was the first time Sanada had cried.

Delivering the news of their Kantou loss was like delivering Yukimura's coup de grace.

Sanada expected disappointment and anger, but he certainly did not anticipate a three-inch thick, hard-cover dictionary to be thrown at him. Yukimura did not ask for any details; he was silent after Sanada delivered the news.

"Please go home," he had said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Yukimura."

"Just go."

"I really am sorry," Sanada said, "please don't take it as a burden. We'll definitely win in the Nationals! We'll-"

"LEAVE!" The book hurled straight towards him. Sanada dodged to the side and was about to leave the room when Yukimura clutched his own arm and began coughing violently from the effort. Sanada picked up the dictionary and rushed to Yukimura's bed.

But Yukimura had no more words for him. He pointed to the door, his eyes cold and hard.

The door clicked softly behind him. He slumped against the wall, sick in the stomach. He had not only disappointed his team, but he had failed Yukimura. He could not keep his promise.

Behind the door, Yukimura howled. The scream of a dying animal.

I'm so useless. If only I wasn't stuck here.

It was entirely his fault, Yukimura decided. He hated himself for being where he was. For the next few days, he did not eat or talk, only staring out the window. The ghost of insomnia haunted him and he could not think of anything but how disappointed his team must be in their leader. They must hate me, Yukimura thought miserably.

"He has not eaten for four days," Yukimura's mother told the team, her eyes wet with tears. "He doesn't respond to anything we say and no matter what food we put in front of him, he simply shakes his head and continues to look out the window. Please don't be offended if he ignores you. I apologise on his behalf." She bowed deeply, tears falling from her eyes.

The team bowed back. "Please don't worry," Sanada replied, "we will try our best to make him feel better." Despite trying to sound hopeful, Sanada wondered if Yukimura would feel better seeing someone who had failed him utterly. He entered the room with a heavy heart, which sunk further when he saw Yukimura's delicate frame even more fragile than the last time. Yukimura's cheeks were sunken, his eyes bloodshot and hollow.

"Buchou," Marui attempted his most cheery voice, "I bought you cake!"

As though he did not hear, Yukimura continued to stare out of the window. Heavy silence fell like the curtain of night. Finally, after a long while, Yukimura turned to his team slowly.

His eyes were soulless. Empty.

"They say," he said slowly, as if he could not find the right words, "I will become a paraplegic."

After that, he turned back to the window, lost to the world. The team retreated out of the room and as soon as the door closed, Kirihara burst out crying. "Does that mean he will never play tennis again?" He asked, tears streaming down his cheeks uncontrollably.

"Don't say that…" Marui muttered. Niou shook his head sadly; despite liking to tease his captain about how feminine he looked, he held great respect for him. The team slowly turned to their vice-captain.

Sanada pulled his cap down. He had caught a glimpse of the dark bruises on Yukimura's wrist. Yukimura-kun hits his wrists against the safety rails in fits of anger and depression, Sanada remembered what he had overheard when the doctor talked to Yukimura's family. He's becoming suicidal.

"Let's go," Sanada walked away. And for the second time, Kirihara thought he saw tears fall from his vice-captain's eyes.

The diagnosis changed a week later.

Sanada's mind felt like exploding. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs.

"They tell me," Yukimura had said softly, "that I can recover."

Sanada walked behind the team, deep in thought. Tomorrow was Yukimura's surgery and Sanada could not help but feel scared. The doctors said there was fifty percent chance that he would recover fully. But what about the other fifty percent?

Closing his eyes, Sanada clapped his hands over the rope. Praying to the gods, he rang the bell three times, begging for another chance for Yukimura.

I would exchange anything for him to be okay. Even my life.

"Sanada," the corner of his lips turned upwards, despite his unsmiling eyes, "your omamori seemed to have worked. Thank you."

Sanada nodded, stroking a petal of the red rose that lay on the windowsill. "Are… are you coming back soon?"

The light in Yukimura's eyes dimmed. He never gave the answer.

Sanada sat on the bed, not knowing what to say anymore. His captain… his best friend was too far from him. They seemed to be in two different worlds no matter what Sanada did; his attempts to cheer Yukimura up simply induced smiles that did not go beyond the lips. Sanada wanted to help him, but he did not know what to do anymore. Everyday, he brought Yukimura's favourite flowers to him and everyday, he trained the team hard and himself harder. Deep inside, Sanada knew only tennis could make Yukimura happy once again – he alone was not enough.

"It's not true," Yukimura said suddenly, "what you think."

"How do you know what I think?" Sanada muttered, looking away.

"I know you, Sanada," Yukimura said softly, smoothing out a crease on his bed sheet, "I understand you."

Sanada stood up. "Get some rest," he said, "I will be back tomorrow." Putting his jersey on, he left the room, closing the door behind him gently. He sighed. Being alone with Yukimura always made him tense. Perhaps he was afraid to say the wrong things. And perhaps… he could not stand the sight of Yukimura. Shaking his head, Sanada cleared these unnecessary thoughts, picked up his tennis bag and walked towards the doctor's office.

He only had to knock twice. The doctor invited him to sit, but Sanada insisted he needed to be home soon. "When will he recover?" Sanada asked, straight to the point. He had to know. It was impossible to continue telling himself he must be patient; Yukimura's absence had not only sunken Rikkai's spirit, but most of all, it was an unbearable torture for him. He was drowning, swept away by an excruciating sense of loss.

Yukimura's pain is far greater than mine, Sanada told himself. But the ache in his heart stayed nevertheless.

"At least six months was my prediction," the doctor replied, shaking his head in disbelief, "but what would take even a fast healer three months had taken him just over one week."

That's Yukimura for you.

"I have never seen determination like his."

It was Tuesday. And the sky was blue, perfectly blue without the slightest wisp of cloud.

Yukimura stretched his arms and looked towards the heavens, as though he was embracing the softness of the sun's rays. He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. "I'm back," he said, the confident, almost arrogant edge returning to his voice. He spent a few minutes simply standing there, making sure it was not merely a dream. His nightmare had ended, and now, he was the Yukimura Seiichi once again.

When he opened his eyes, he turned to the boy standing beside him.

For the first time in a long time, a true smile hung from Yukimura's lips. It was the smile that gave him those small, almost unnoticeable wrinkles around his eyes. It had been missing for the past few months, but like a sunflower that survived the harsh winter, it shone brightly once again, melting the last snows of spring.

He had thought he would never see Yukimura smile again.

"Sanada," Yukimura's voice was as soft as the breeze as he reached for his vice-captain's hand, "thank you."

And for the third time in his life, tears fell from Sanada's eyes.

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