Thud… thud… thud…
He let the therapeutic sound of a rebounding tennis ball wash over his body as he took all his tension out on the small fuzzy yellow ball. There was a perfect, deep spherical indentation on the wall that he was hitting dead on precision shots at. He paid no heed to the spluttering raindrops clouding his vision as, having been at it for about an hour, his body was moving automatically. The rhythm took and Ryoma's mind wandered; reliving the memories of what brought him to this wall.
Thud… thud… thud…
"You have something you want from me, don't you?" Ryoma inquired with a barely concealed anger. "You're going about it in an awfully roundabout way."
The blonde teen he was speaking to, on the other side of the tennis court, widened his eyes in recognition.
"You've finally appeared, Echizen Ryoma." Kevin's face was thrown into shadows, contorted in a mixture of hatred and restlessness, giving him a demonic, almost evil look. "Perfect timing. I was just getting tired of the small fry."
Rolling a ball towards him with Akutsu's racket, before hitting the ball up and catching it, Ryoma wasted no time in idle chitchat. He got into serving position and curtly issued Kevin a challenge.
"If that's the case, I can be your opponent right here, right now."
Kevin smirked, "Yes! That's what I want!"
They both got into position, eyes glaring intimidatingly at each other, having a silent battle before the actual match. The atmosphere crackled in anticipation when, suddenly, a loud and authoritative voice interrupts.
"Wait!"
Ryoma looked around for the intruder, his large piercing golden eyes narrowed in irritation. They landed on a tall rigid figure standing at the sidelines of the tennis courts. Ryoma's eyes widened in recognition, 'Tezuka-buchou.'
"The Goodwill Games are approaching," Tezuka spoke stoically. "I will not permit this non-sanctioned match to occur."
Kevin considered his words, then withdrew his racket, "Any time is fine by me. After all, I've waited until now. It's no big deal to wait until the day of the official match." He drew the racket out again, this time pointing it at Ryoma, "In fact, I'd rather beat you in front of a huge audience."
He was met with silence from his opponent. Only an intense glare from Ryoma's catlike eyes portrayed any kind of emotion.
Tezuka turns to leave, "Let's go Echizen."
He took two steps forward before a cold, disobeying voice stopped him in his tracks.
"No."
Tezuka turned in disbelief, glasses flashing dangerously, "What?"
The unruly figure of Echizen Ryoma met his gaze, "I won't be in the match, right?"
On the other side of the nets, Kevin gasped in astonishment, not believing his ears.
Ignoring his opponent, Ryoma continued, "So, if we don't play now, we won't play at all."
"Hey! Is that true?" Kevin demanded an answer from Ryoma.
"So what if it is? Of we play now, you won't have any complaints, will you?" That was all Kevin got before the other boy turned away from him and prepared to serve.
"Echizen!" Tezuka half yelled out in reproach, but Ryoma paid no attention to him and tossed the ball up to serve.
Ryoma bent his back before letting his back muscles propel his body forwards, hitting the ball on the very center of his racket.
Flop. The ball hits the net.
Ryoma pulls up from his serving position and examines the racket in his hands, "Damn, It is hard to use someone else's racket."
He turns and walks towards his tennis bag and unzipped it to retrieve his own racket. Footsteps fell behind him and an apathetic voice reached his ear, "Stop it, Echizen."
The command was disregarded as Ryoma moved away from Tezuka and back onto the courts once more. As he brushed past Tezuka, the buchou of Seigaku grabbed on his wrist and stopped his movement. Ryoma froze with a gasp.
Anger and frustration soon took over the surprise, though, and Ryoma said, with a seemingly impassive voice, "Let go."
SMACK!
The sound thundered through the now silenced tennis courts. In his moment of anger at the freshman, Tezuka had risen his hand and smacked young boy, hard enough so that the said boy was on the ground rubbing at his swollen cheek.
"Ouch…" Ryoma's eyes were full of unshed tears, only his stubbornness over not showing any weaknesses were holding them back.
"I'll only say this one more time," Tezuka said coldly, "we're leaving."
Ryoma grinded his teeth, before bowing his head in submissiveness. Seeing this, Tezuka turned to leave, leaving Ryoma to his own devices. Ryoma picked himself off the ground and retrieved his racket. Kevin, who had been watching this scene from across the court, was startled out of his reverie by Ryoma leaving.
"Hang on…" But seeing the look on Ryoma's face, Kevin decided to back off, at least for the moment. 'He looked so lost just then, almost reminds me of myself, the time when Dad got so drunk, he chucked a bottle at me.' In the middle of his musing, Ryoma and Tezuka had left the streets tennis court.
That afternoon, Ryoma took a long, roundabout way back to his house. His mind was in turmoil and his heart felt empty, yet at the same time, heavy. The smack delivered by Tezuka was like a shot though his heart. Though it might not seem like it, behind that cocksure smirk and confidant eyes lays a brittle and fragile child. Ryoma took on an apathetic façade so no one could tell what he was feeling inside, betrayal and abandonment. Ever since that match with Tezuka under the bridge, Ryoma's tennis, his life, was changed. It was no longer about opponents being stepping stones to beating his father, it was about enjoying every game, playing to his full potential and becoming Seigaku's pillar of support.
Tezuka had awakened that feeling within him and, even if Ryoma would never admit it, Tezuka become his role model and the only person that Ryoma respects and admires.
'It hurts…'
Ryoma wasn't thinking about the swollen bump he had on his cheek, rather the pain he was feeling inside his shattered heart. 'I can't breathe.'
Thud… thud… thud…
Ryoma was jerked out of his rehashing as he collapsed on the water drenched ground. His legs could no longer support him due to exhaustion and the extreme cold. He could feel his mind slipping in and out of consciousness and he welcomed the comforting darkness, the place where no one could reach, the place where he could never get hurt…
A/N: Reviews are very much appreciated, especially in the form of ConCrit.