Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis, Tennis no Oujisama, or any other name it goes by. If I did, I would be a celebrated artist, living in Japan, speaking Japanese, and going by the name of Konomi Takeshi. Unfortunately for me, but fortunately for the rest of the world, none of the above applies to me. Other than the fact that I don't own zilch.
The colors of dusk always fascinated him. The way the dying sun would throw such glorious embers of hope, and how the world became bathed in an ethereal light, the whole scene, dark blue shadows of the city haloed by such luminous radiance, took his breath away. Of course, dawn's beauty may be said to rival this, but Echizen Ryoma, tennis prodigy, preferred the dusk.
Sitting upon a high, concrete wall, that overlooked the landscape, he sighed. A gentle breeze rustled through his hair. This was his special place, where he could watch the sunset, free of all thoughts and burdens. Usually. However, today, his eyes were glazed over and a blank expression was plastered on his face. His white cap rested in one hand, and the other held an unopened can of ponta, both forgotten.
Sighing again, the first ever Seigaku first year regular shifted his body, glancing at the beautiful scene before him. Ever since he was small, he had always liked the sky at dusk more than at dawn, perhaps because it was something he could connect to, something he understood, like tennis. The dawn offered too bright of a hope, too optimistic, too unreal. It gave the feeling of a brand new, perfect beginning, where nothing could go wrong. It was a symbol of joy, a clean slate, a new birth. It was an unrealistic depiction of perfection, of life. On the other hand, the dusk, was something entirely different. It was the end of the day, the beginning of the end, yet even so, the sun's rays still shine so brilliantly, as if defying fate, denying the darkness yet to come. Even though the inevitable always arrives, and the sun will set, he had always felt that everyday, an intense battle of will waged in the sky, paralleling with his own struggles in life. His goal to defeat his baka oyaji remains unfulfilled, but he continues to do what he must. It gave him hope, knowing that before darkness would come, the light would never back down without a fight. It was something he understood.
However, what presently occupied his mind was not something he comprehended, not something that he could quite grasp in the palm of his hands. What currently occupied the young tennis star's mind was the matter of love. It wasn't the love like the affection he had for Karupin, or the kind of joy he obtained from drinking ponta, nor was it the thrill he experienced from playing tennis, triumphing over players of incredible caliber. No, it was the kind of love that he had no experience in. It was uncharted territory, foreign waters, a strange and foreboding area.
It wasn't like him to be pondering so deeply on a subject such as this. He should be concentrating on perfecting his tennis skills and defeating everyone else he hasn't defeat as of yet. He shouldn't be spending his energy on something as pointless as love. But, deep down, he wanted to understand. Whether it be in life, school, or tennis, there was never a subject in which he had difficulty taking in; there wasn't anything that was really encompassed in a mist of fog. But love, try as he might, was the one thing he still hasn't been able to define. And he had been trying for quite a while now.
Just what was love? How do you know if you're in love? How long would love last? Is there such a thing as true love? What exactly is the cause of this feeling? It is hormones, or something more? Does love even exist? Or is it another form of monopolization, or just plain lust, only not realizing that it's lust? He had a lot of questions, all of them unanswered. Perhaps it was because he, himself, had never truly experienced love. But, as the question of it actually existing comes into the equation, well, he didn't know what to make of it. All the crap about one's heart beating faster and face turning red hot and what not, he had just never personally gone through that. Sure, in the past, there have been girls who had confessed to him, asking him out. But after a simple question demanding their definition of love and just what love was, and receiving only stuttering answers and blushes, he nonchalantly rejected each and every one of them before walking away. Although he was glad for an passable excuse not to date them, for half of them he had never seen before in his life before that day, the disappointment that he still had yet to find an answer to this question wasn't easily ignored. Even after all the years that have passed, he still remained in square one.
The sky had already turned a hue of violet and blue. Sighing once again, Ryoma casually tossed on his cap, hopped down from the wall, and popped open his can of ponta. Tilting his head back, he took a long drink. "Madda madda dane." It was no use worrying over this. After all, what did he, Echizen Ryoma, hope to gain from understanding this anyways? Tennis was his life, it was his all, and it was as simple as that. He threw back his head and stared into the night sky, at the tiny, brilliant dots that lighted the sky. He didn't see the moon. Nonetheless, it made him feel insignificantly small, looking up at the vast universe that lay beyond his reach.
"Oi, what are you doing here?"
Snapping his head in the direction of the voice, Ryoma glared irritably at the person who had interrupted his train of thought. Upon recognizing the face, his expression relaxed. Perhaps it was the unusual state of mind he had at the time, or perhaps this whole deep thinking thing was getting to him, but before his brain could fully think the process through, he found himself asking, "What does love mean to you, the kind that, you know, that isn't family and…?" Trailing off and catching himself, he felt his face growing warm, and suddenly thankful that it was dark.
The other blinked. "Love? Meaning? That's quite a strange question to ask." As if pondering over the right words to use to explain, there was a pause, before the person continued. "Well, I guess, generally speaking, it would be the feeling that drives you to sacrifice yourself for another, putting someone else's needs ahead of your own. Love… well it just is." Then, grinning, the other question back, "Why? Have a crush on someone?
Tugging his cap down over his eyes, Ryoma shrugged. "It's getting late. Going home."
"Hey! I answered your question, so now, answer mine!"
"Yadda."
"And why not?"
"I never said you had to answer my question. Besides, it was just a random thought off the top of my head." Smirking, he added, "It's not my fault that you went ahead and answered it."
-----
The young man stared out of a window, one that spanned the area of an entire wall, at the setting sun and city below, recalling the conversation he had had that night under the starlit sky. Rays of orange and yellow light bounced off his dark green hair, giving it a slight tint. How long had it been since then? He couldn't quite remember the date, but its memory was still fresh in his mind, as was the response. Love… well it just is. "It just is, is it now?" he murmured to himself. Well, I guess, generally speaking, it would be the feeling that drives you to sacrifice yourself for another, putting someone else's needs ahead of your own. "A special someone whom you care about more than yourself, eh?"
He glanced back into the room, at the sleeping figure that was lying so peacefully upon the bed. Some last streaks of light only stretched as far as to land on a bare arm, extended out from under the covers. Ryoma's lips curved into a soft smile. Turning back to look out the window, he sighed. A dreamy look appeared in his eyes. "Someone more important than myself. Someone I love." The sky had darkened. The tennis prodigy turned his eyes to the heavens. The twinkling lights that shimmered high above mesmerized him, as his thoughts wandered. The moon floated out from behind a cloud, casting its light into the room. Much time had passed since then. Much progress was also made, although if asked the definition of love, he still remains clueless, but slowly, slowly, its concept was coming into his grasp. There were still a lot of questions he wanted answers to, but at least the fog had thinned.
Concentrated so deeply in those contemplations was Ryoma that he failed to notice the rustling of sheets and soft footsteps that approached him from behind. "Neh, what are you doing?" Arms draped over his shoulders and wrapped around him, enclosing him in a warm embrace. "You're going to get a cold if you stand here all night." He felt a weight on his left shoulder and came to the conclusion that it was now serving as a chin-rest.
He welcomed the warmth though. Still staring at the starry scene outside, he asked, "Finally awake? Say, do you still remember the answer you gave me when I asked you what love meant?"
"Hm? What about it?
"You never gave me your answer."
"Of course I did."
"I had asked what love meant to you. Your answer was regarding the general public."
"Fine. Give me a kiss and I'll tell you."
Ryoma turned his head sideways and gave a small peck on the cheek before looking out the window once more. Smirking, he demanded, "Well?"
"Ryoma."
This caught him off guard, and his body stiffened slightly. "Why are you suddenly calling me by my first name?"
"Because I have a right to."
"What right? Just answer the question."
"Ryoma."
"What?" came the irritated response.
"I love you."
Before the tennis prodigy could respond, soft lips pressed themselves onto his, sealing his words. A surge of emotions bundled up in his chest, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his own arms around the other's body. So, this what the perfect answer to all his questions. At that moment, he held not doubt within his heart what love was, what love meant to him, and who the object of his love was. It was under the shower of silver moonlight, together with that one special person, hearing his name breathed in that hushed voice, that finally made his heart realize what it had failed to realize before. The last traces of fog and mist cleared. So this was love, eh?
Thoughts? Comments? Care to contribute your own definition of love? For this story, I incorporated my own ideas into Ryo's head…but contrary to what the ending suggest, no, I still don't understand love. Which is probably why this fic is confusing. I mean, if the author writes about a topic that they don't even understand, who would?