A/N: It's saaaaaap A look into the future and Fuji isn't playing tennis. There is also much poking of fun at Fuji. If you can find it.

Scheherazade, op.35

All pro players develop odd habits after a while, and Echizen Ryoma, even if he was one of the top seeded players, was no exception to this rule. Fuji had seen him come home from tournaments, still pumped high on adrenaline and so of course Fuji had put that to good use; Fuji had also seen him come home from a match utterly tired out for obscure reasons, but a good warm bath plus a mug of hot tea was good enough to slay the rest of the stubborn man's resistance and put him to sleep.

There were days, though, when Ryoma wouldn't go to sleep at all. Insomnia isn't the best condition for an athlete to suffer under, and so Fuji fretted. He tried all ways, short of feeding Ryoma sleeping pills to get Ryoma to fall asleep but they never worked. More often than not Fuji himself would fall asleep in the middle of another attempt to make Ryoma sleep.

And so Fuji was rather surprised, one night when Ryoma turned and snuggled in to his chest, with the obscure command for Fuji to tell him a story.

Fuji wasn't the best story teller on earth; in fact, his soft, soothing voice and gentle patterns of speech was more suited to monks chanting in a temple than weaving enchanting stories to enthrall.

Then something clicked in Fuji's head and he smiled down at the dark head buried in his chest. Quietly, Fuji shifted into a more comfortable position and started telling the tale of the Odyssey. Before long, Ryoma was fast asleep and snoring lightly.

And so they went on like this, Fuji murmuring Ryoma to sleep whenever Ryoma couldn't. If Ryoma flew overseas for tournaments, if Fuji could not come along, Ryoma would fall asleep with his cell phone cradled close to his ear, often found on the floor the next morning.

On one night, when Ryoma fell asleep in the middle of the contest for Penelope, something occurred to Fuji and his smile morphed into one of extreme content.

And so Ryoma is my Sultan, and I am his Scheherazade. He slaughters every single boring opponent on his courts, but always comes back to me, his Scheherazade.

AN::squeaks: Comments appreciated, Concrit devoured, Flames used to fry bacon.