Marathon
Disclaimer: Characters and concept belong to and Takeshi Konomi and embyr respectively.
A/N: It was supposed to be an apartment number, but somehow, it morphed into something completely different.
Summary: Yuuta+Fuji He was always chasing after him.
Ever since Yuuta can remember, he has been in a race with his older brother.
Whether it was seeing who could finish a bowl of ramen faster, or who could make the most baskets at half court, everything Yuuta did with Fuji ended up being a competition. No victory was too small, no game too trivial.
The problem was keeping the tensai interested long enough for Yuuta to gain some kind of proficiency at the task. He's lost track of the number of games that have been played, only to be abandoned half-way when something new came along.
It wasn't that Fuji didn't care.
The novelty had worn off.
Nothing was so difficult that Fuji couldn't unravel with a glance; nothing so intriguing as to captivate a tensai who's mind was constantly in motion.
So Fuji flitted from one thing to the next, discarding toys as fast as he received them, which was why Yuuta didn't give it a second thought when Fuji had come home from school one day and announced that he had met a very interesting boy by the name of Tezuka Kunimitsu.
Like anything else Fuji took an interest to, this fascination would be passing. Forgotten like an old toy.
How wrong he had been.
It was on that very same day, Yuuta recalls ruefully, that Fuji began rummaging through the closet to unearth a tennis racket that had been collecting dust for years.
A few practice swings later, it was as if Fuji had never put it down in the first place.
It rendered all of Yuuta's extra practices and drills obsolete in the face of sheer natural talent.
Life was unfair sometimes.
Yuuta believes he will always remember the first moments that led up to the match.
The way the cool breeze ruffled Fuji's hair, the brilliant blue backdrop as the tensai arched back to deliver his first serve--every single detail etched in painful clarity.
As soon as the ball made contact with the racket, everything was a blur.
It was a chaotic mess of color, and jumbled sounds, as Fuji continued to rack up point after point, executing complex techniques with expert precision and frightening speed.
What did it matter that he had been playing seriously for years? Yuuta had felt the hours of practice and training slip away from him slowly, as it became apparent that endless drills and repetitions paled in the face of sheer natural talent.
His heart was beating wildly as his breaths became more erratic. The pain in his side had made every step agony, as he shifted from one foot to the other anxiously awaiting Fuji's returns.
His brother, on the other hand, couldn't have looked more at ease. His steps were light and graceful, while his serves were fast and powerful.
Fuji was every inch the perfect opponent.
It was in that moment that Yuuta felt true despair, as he ran desperately back and forth on the court, barely matching Fuji's pace.
At some point during their match, Yuuta stumbled.
A simple misstep and Fuji had immediately stopped, forfeiting the game.
He pleaded fatigue, but it did not escape Yuuta how not one drop of sweat graced his forehead.
It was the surrender of a player who was certain of victory, but didn't care enough to collect.
For a tensai, Fuji had been remarkably ignorant of how insulting his carefree attitude could be.
He had yet to understand what pride was.
But that hadn't made a difference to Yuuta, who in his anger, threw down his racket and ran home heartbroken.
He had realized then, when he caught sight of the glint in Fuji's eyes that something had changed within his brother. The transformation frightened him, and though he wanted to believe that it was because Fuji's passion for tennis had been awakened, he knew in his heart it wasn't true.
Fuji's thoughts were directed elsewhere now--to a different game with rules Yuuta would never fully understand.
It was at that moment when Yuuta realized he was running a one-man race.