Genius.02
loosely based on the anime prince of tennis plot, though potentially feat. kh characters. credits, and henceforth apply standard disclaimers for both p.o.t. and kingdom hearts.
experimental. will be removed if fic does not garner enough reviews.
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He walked, ignoring the hushed whispers of the girls, the muffled giggles, the usual gossips of daily high school routines. He had gotten used to all of them anyway - curious girls pointing fingers at him, hugging textbooks close to their chests as they spoke about him, the guys shooting him strange looks.
Roxas walked with his head lowered, his black cap sheltering his facial features as he basked in the warmth of the morning sun at Twilight High. He shifted his tennis bag which also sat his textbooks and school materials inside, against his shoulders, and then adjusted his skateboard by his side.
Pausing in his tracks, mid-way towards the entrance of the school, he lifted his eyes to the sky and narrowed them at the glinting sunlight. Stormy blue eyes reflected myraids of patterns away, a shade just like someone close to him that he remembered very well - his older brother.
"...Used to be close, anyway," he said quietly under his breath before resuming pace.
In his right arm, he lugged thick textbooks of academia, and piano musical scores were slotted in between some pages. It belonged to a work of Chopin - of a Waltz in a difficult minor to master.
He glanced down at the sheet of paper in his hands. It read - CLASS 1A, LOCKER NO. #34.
Roxas blinked.
A tennis ball hit him in the forearm, and he turned his head to see a student about his age standing in the tennis courts expecting him to toss the ball back. Roxas bent, picked up the lime green Prince ball, eyed it for a few minutes, before throwing it to the stranger.
"Thanks!" He called out, offering a smile.
Roxas turned, and walked on.
"Hey! I see you carry a tennis bag, too! Do you play tennis? How about a short game with me?" The boy continued to cry on.
Roxas stiffened in his tracks. "Not interested."
"What? Why not?"
He touched a finger to the print on the side of his tennis bag. It read: STRIFE in bold gold letters.
"I gave up on the sport." Was his short answer, before he proceeded to find his locker.
He was not lying.
Placing his orange headphones over his ears, he blasted his rock music to full volume, casting out the sounds and noises of high school. Flipping his skateboard onto the ground, he tried it testily with the edge of his shoe, before leaping onto it and practically gliding through the air, interweaving adroitly between crowds of people oogling and admiring his skills and expertise. He hopped onto a ledge, twisted and turned 360 degrees in the air, before landing a perfect hit onto solid footing again.
"Oh my god, did you see that boy who totally zoomed by us! How the hell did he do that!"
"He IS cute!!"
"He's a tennis player!? What's that word on his bag? Strife?"
Roxas pressed his hands to his headphones, willing to block out everything. Every damn thing.
"ZOMG! Strife!? As in Cloud Strife, the national tennis player, that STRIFE?"
"But this isn't Cloud--"
"Is he his younger brother!"
"And he's a skater boy, too!?"
"Dude, he pursues higher education, did you see how many textbooks he had along with him!?"
"Why is he in our school? Not like I mind, like totally!"
"OMG, I remember! His name ...is Roxas!!! Roxas Strife! He represented our age division in the tennis nationals thrice in a row and won all Golds! He IS Cloud's little bro!"
Cloud's little bro.
Roxas skidded to a stop before entering the main entrance, pushing away his skateboard to his side as he trudged into the locker room. Searching high and low for #34, he finally found himself face to face with the two digits before him. Thinning his lips, he yanked open the locker, didn't even bother to give his tennis bag a second glance, and dumped racket and all into it.
He took off his cap, pivoted on his heels, and smoothed out his blond spikes with his fingers.
He eyed his surroundings.
High school. Morning routines. Girls gossiping about fashion, BGRs, zomg-who's-going-out-with-who, boys punching each other in the shoulders and checking out girls covertly and overtly.
Someone tapped him in the shoulder.
Roxas turned around to look into bespectacled eyes.
"You play the piano, and you're learning the Chopin's Waltz now? Wow, I've never been able to master it." She was a dorky-looking girl with a ponytail. She was referring to the music scores peeking out from his textbooks.
He shook his head. "...No, I'm not."
He wasn't lying.
Roxas stared at the skateboard by his side.
...Cloud Strife was a renowned tennis player, brilliant pianist, a hit with fangirls and media favorites.
But Roxas is Roxas...
He chose to skateboard to class, ignoring said rules, teachers screaming at him across the hallways, and girls starting to take notice of his eccentricity. He couldn't care anymore than he could with the music blasting fully into his ears.
Bypassing the dustbin, he dumped Chopin's Waltz into the black hole.
tsuzuku.
..um, maybe. shrugs, if i feel like it. because this fic is entirely experimental and i wrote it more out of randomness than anything. 'nuff said.