Centre Court
Centre Court
By: Jyra
Disclaimer: Do not own Prince of Tennis. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this. Instead I'd be laughing about how I've created one of the best mangas in the world…
Written to celebrate the French Opens.
Slight pillar pair.
Sometimes Ryoma wonders why he isn't playing centre court today.
.X.
'Game, Nadal'
The French robot announced over the speaker system.
The stadium was packed with people of all nationalities. Luckily the previous couple of day's rain had held off and the sun was shining brightly for the men's finals of the French Open, the Roland Garros.
The match was one that would go down in history. Not only would it be Nadal's 6th French Open title if he won, but the level of play was…well the only word for it was beautiful. The crowd could feel the electricity bouncing off the two players as they faced each other in battle.
Somewhere in the crowd, Echizen Ryoma too drank in the atmosphere, if only so he could criticise later. The heat of the day meant that he could get away with the huge sunglasses that hid most of his face without too many questions. If the spectators around him knew who he was, it would no doubt lead to yet more questions as to why he wasn't the one playing centre court today. Sometimes Ryoma wondered too.
It had been a great shock to the world of tennis when young pro Echizen Ryoma, last year's winner of Wimbledon, announced he would not be entering the men's singles French Opens. Most of his old team mates, whom he still saw regularly, had tried their hardest to talk him out of his decision, but Ryoma had stood firm. Still, at the time they had been the only ones to know the really reasons for his non entry, sans Nanjiroh who just smirked when he heard. The rest of the tennis world had been left to speculate. It wasn't the Ryoma couldn't play on clay, he had proved that he was versatile on any surface when he'd come second in the Hamburg Masters, only losing in the tie break to a certain former captain of his.
It was match point now and the crowd had hushed. The normal clapping that built up to the final serve was gone. Instead the audience had been struck dumb. They were waiting. Waiting for the moment of a lifetime. Waiting for a beautiful finish, a powerful groundstroke, a smash or maybe a drop shot. Ryoma too was waiting. Waiting to see if he could have done better, though already in his mind he had confirmed that he could.
'Ryoma!'
On hearing his name, Ryoma instinctively turned to the source of the voice which had come from just behind him.
There, standing behind him was Tezuka Kunimitsu. He was dressed in tennis clothes, black and dark blue, and held his practise racket in his hand. Although to the average passer by his face looked expressionless, Ryoma could see the slight frown that creased his features but also the amusement his eyes held, as if to tell Ryoma that Tezuka had known he was here all along.
And then suddenly the crowd had come alive again. Ryoma didn't need to turn around to know what had happened but he did anyway. The game had been won. Nadal now held the French Open title for the 6th consecutive year. Oh well, Ryoma knew that would change next year.
'Ryoma. You should have been practising…'
Ryoma knew it was time to leave. Squeezing past the old Spanish man who was too busy celebrating to register the young tennis player, Ryoma took the hand that Tezuka offered.
As they walked away hand in hand, Ryoma turned back to the centre court, not with longing but because tomorrow he would be playing there. Only tomorrow he'd be playing in the men's double finals. With Tezuka. And he knew they'd win it. Because really, that was what they had been doing since junior high.
Sometimes Ryoma wonders why he isn't playing centre court today. But then he looks at his doubles partner and knows exactly why.
.X.
Hope that wasn't too bad. Fist prince of Tennis fic but had to write this because I've been watching the Roland Garros. I suppose it's not too hard to guess that my favourite player is Rafa Nadal is it?