Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is not belonging to me. Yay?
A/N 1: Mm. TezuRyo. What else? May be a tad confusing, since no names are used until the end. As a quick guide to the… two? Japanese words used, for utter beginners:
Kouhai – junior
Buchou – captain
Now, if you are a Prince of Tennis fan, there is no reason in the world you shouldn't know those two words. But in case you're someone like Areale (i.e. someone I've bullied into reading this ^_~) there you go. ^_^
I do have a reason for the title. Anyone want to venture a guess? ^_^ Think beyond the obvious, people!
A/N 2: PLEASE READ THIS!! First of a trilogy. Was supposed to be four at first, but then I decided a trilogy would be better. This one's short. Very short. So is the ending piece. The middle one will hopefully be longer… I'm re-writing it now, so I'm not sure as to the exact length. It'll be out soon, but posted as a separate story. So if you like this, watch out for the next two stories in this arc. ^_^
Summary: First dates usually start with actually picking up the person you've asked out. But sometimes your body just doesn't want to cooperate.
Indefinable
A finger hovered tentatively over the button.
He wasn't quite sure what had possessed him to ask his kouhai out, but he had. He could still remember the way golden eyes had widened slightly at the request, mouth open in a silent 'o' of surprise. And then the familiar smirk that had slid back in place so easily, but this time was tinged with something else. Something he couldn't quite identify, but something he had never seen before. Not in his face, not in those eyes.
He was well aware that he was procrastinating. And that he must look like an idiot, standing there with a finger in the air. He was granted proof of this as two children ran by, pointing at him and sniggering. Pink dusted his cheeks for a bare moment, but his finger refused to move. A glare was turned on it; it didn't budge. He wondered briefly if the muscles in his hand had somehow become disconnected from his body.
He was suddenly reminded of his kouhai and his Nitoryuu style of playing. He had been hard-pressed to disguise the pleasure in his eyes as his kouhai – now so much improved in his game – had easily defeated the other team's tensai six-love. He remembered the gleam in his kouhai's golden eyes, the shine of his skin under the sun. The way his hand had felt on the other's shoulder as he had congratulated him on the spectacular win. And most importantly, the way his kouhai had turned and grinned up at him, a real grin.
He shook off the memory of that warm grin and was surprised to find a small smile playing about his own lips. It faded, though, as he considered his predicament. His finger, he was quite sure, was laughing at him.
He honestly could not put a time to when he had first fallen for his kouhai. All he knew was that at some point or another, he'd begun to look forward to the next time he would see that small frame, those piercing eyes, even that smug smirk. He left home early just so that he could watch every moment of his kouhai's morning practise; he left class as soon as the bell had gone to watch his afternoon training. And perhaps his kouhai had known – or maybe he was just scared of certain unnamed juices made by certain unnamed people – but in any case, he had actually started showing up on time. It was odd, arriving at the courts and finding his kouhai there warming up. Arriving not only early, but before anyone else. He remembered the way their eyes would lock and he would pause there for a moment as his kouhai finished stretching. And then, picking up his kouhai's bag, he would lead the way to the locker room, where, producing a key, he would unlock the door and enter.
His kouhai would follow, of course, and they would in silence put their things away. The rest of the team would troop in later, express surprise at his kouhai being there already and rib him good-naturedly. To which his kouhai would shrug off their attentions and stroll out, his favourite words ever-ready on his lips. He would follow soon after, and set his kouhai to doing some extra exercises; exercises he had designed himself, tailored specifically to his kouhai's strengths and weaknesses.
He felt rather like another member of their team.
His kouhai invariably completed the extra training without complaint. He couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason the other kept turning up early, so that he could finish up before the practise proper had started. Or maybe he came early for the same reason he did…
None of which helped his little problem of uncooperative muscles.
He would probably have happily drifted off into another day-dream about his kouhai, given just a moment more. A warm hand descended on his, pushing his finger down. He stared at it for a moment as it cut a graceful arc through the air, and then looked up into his kouhai's amused golden eyes.
"Ten minutes," his kouhai commented, and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks again. It was gone in an instant, but his kouhai's sharp eyes had caught it, and his lips quirked.
He was fairly certain that his hand hadn't been working just scant moments ago. He was now certain, as their fingers linked, palms touching, his larger hand engulfing his kouhai's tiny, yet callused one – he was positive that his hand had a mind of its own.
His kouhai didn't seem to mind overly much, though, gracing him with a small smile. He tried to make his legs work, but apparently it was their turn to disobey him.
Smile becoming a smirk, Echizen Ryoma tugged on his buchou's hand.
"Shall we, Tezuka… kun?"
~fin