Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis or any of its legally affiliated...stuff
Dedicated to: the wonderful technicians who traveled all the way from Ohio to fix my street's power lines today. They quite literally made this story you're reading now possible.
Summary: In which Ryoma is denser than rock, senpai-tachi wreak havoc, and fate has one heck of a job trying to sort it all out.
The first thing Echizen Ryoma thinks when he sees his new sports therapist (recommended by Inui, his manager) is: hair too long.
Which is a bit silly, really, because it isn't that long. Tied in a French braid that just falls over her left shoulder, it gives her a cute yet sophisticated look. Ryoma finds himself wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through those silky auburn strands when his new sports therapist turns around from the sink.
She screams.
Or yelps. To Ryoma, all sounds made by the female species sound the same.
Still, this girl's reaction is a little extreme. One hand slips sideways behind her back as she whips around, and - thunk - suddenly she's sitting on the floor, a dazed look in her eyes.
So the second thing Echizen Ryoma thinks about his new sports therapist is: hips too wobbly.
"Che." The prince of tennis stuffs his hands into his pockets. An odd feeling of satisfaction, the kind you get when you see something nostalgic, bubbles up in his chest. "I'm here for my appointment at 4. Doctor." Smirk.
The therapist blinks slowly, the words visibly sinking into her brain. At last, she says, "Ano, you're Aka - I mean, Kirihara-san?"
Ryoma's smirk deteriorates into a frown. Kirihara Akaya is one of the few tennis players from his middle school years that actually went pro (the others are Akutagawa Jirou and Tooyama Kintarou). Ryoma played him 2 weeks ago in the Wimbledon and won - but not without having a few choice balls aimed at his face, knees, and *cough* more painful parts.
Yes, Kirihara, you've really grown up.
"Do I look like that baka?" Ryoma scowls. And then, because his pride clearly isn't connected to his mouth right now, he adds, "How do you know him, anyways?"
The therapist's face suddenly becomes closed off, cool.
"That's none of your concern." She gets up and brushes a few loose strands of hair out of her face, trying to look as professional as possible. "Eto, so there seems to be some kind of scheduling mistake. Let me go talk to my secretary-"
"No." Ryoma shifts himself so that he's blocking the entire doorway.
The therapist raises an eyebrow. "Something wrong, Echizen-san?"
Ryoma refuses to admit - to himself or anyone else - that the way she says his name bothers him. It's ridiculous, just like the spark of annoyance he felt when she called Kirihara "Akaya". Echizen-san is the way normal people should address him (no comment on his fans', friends', and family members' terms of endearment).
The silence has stretched to an awkward length, so Ryoma throws his arms behind his head and says, "It doesn't matter. Inui probably did it to avoid publicity. Let's just do it."
At his last statement, the therapist's face turns a marvelous shade of red.
"E-eh?" she chokes.
"EH?"
There's a loud crashing noise in the hallway. Turning around, Ryoma sees eight all-too-familiar, slightly guilty looking faces staring up at him in a heap.
"Ah ha ha, hey ochibi," Kikumaru Eiji says, flashing his trademark peace sign. "Looks like you're finally growing up, ne?"
"Hora hora, don't forget to make me godfather when the kids are born. I've got LOTS of stories to tell them about their dad," Momoshiro Takeshi adds with a wink.
"Fsh, baka - get off my arm!" Kaidoh Kaoru throws a withering glare at his longtime rival. "Who'd want you to be godfather?"
"BURNING! THE FIRE OF YOUTH! YEAH BABY!"
Kawamura waves a (borrowed?) scalpel in the air violently as the shoutfest between Momoshiro and Kaidoh continues.
"For your information, Viper, I've helped raise 3 siblings already!"
"Fsh, and probably dropped all of them on their heads!"
"Why you..."
Ryoma sighs. "Senpai-tachi. What are you all doing here?"
"We came to spy on you, Echizen," Fuji Syuuske says cheerily, as if stalking your middle school kouhais to their doctors appointments is perfectly normal. The tensai nudges his boyfriend. "Ne, aren't I right, Kunimitsu?"
"Don't let your guard down," is the stoic captain's only answer.
"But Echizen, you and Ryuzaki-san should think about this carefully," Oishi Syuichiro adds. "You're both still young, so you should use protection. Oh! But that's not always 100 percent effective..." The former fukubuchou wanders off, fretting and muttering statistics to himself.
"Senpai-tachi," Ryoma sighs again. Vaguely, he wonders if one aspirin or two will be needed after this little incident.
Off in a corner, Inui is scribbling furiously into his infamous green notebook.
"This development was completely outside my calculations. Echizen mst have inherited a greater percentage of his father's genes than previously thought."
Now that was a blow to the prince's ego.
"Senpai-tachi!"
Momo and Kaidoh freeze halfway through throttling each other. Kawamura's scalpel falls to the ground with a metallic clang, echoing in the silence.
Ryoma looks from face to face. Behind him, the sports therapist looks as if her mind's been blown from Japan to the moon and back. It's definitely his kind of moment.
"Mada mada dane," the prince says. He checks the Rolex watch on his right wrist. "Oh? Looks like my time's up. Guess I'll be seeing you next week then, Doc." Slinging his tennis bag over one shoulder, he walks away, straight past the other members of Seigaku's famous Dream Team.
And so, the third thought, the one that would have made Ryoma remember and fate's job a lot easier, it never gets completed.
Ryoma never notices that his new sports therapist's knees aren't bent enough.
Line Break
The second appointment goes slightly better, but mostly, it is as bad as the first.
"You're telling me that there is nothing wrong with you," the sports therapist repeats for the third time that day.
Ryoma rolls his eyes. "YES."
The therapist takes off her stethoscope and wipes the sweat off her slightly damp neck. Whether it's from nervousness or the five layers of clothing she always seems to wear, Ryoma isn't sure. Unconsciously, his eyes wander down from the delicate point of her chin to the shadowed, smooth hollow at the base of her neck, dropping further to skim her creamy collarbone and-
Whoa. Stop a minute. Rewind there. Echizen Ryoma, 2-time winner of all 3 Grand Slam titles, did not just ogle a girl like his perverted father would.
Inui is completely, 100% wrong.
Still, the thought haunts him, and Ryoma is so disturbed that he only hears the therapist's next question the fifth time around.
"Nani?" the prince asks, lifitng his head off his chin.
The therapist sighs. "I said, then why are you here, Echizen-san? I'm sure you could be better using this time to improve your tennis skills."
That statements hits closer to home than he would've liked, but on the surface, Ryoma just shrugs.
"I don't know. Ask Inui-senpai. He's the one who keeps making me come here." Under pain of death by a glass of Super Remix Deluxe Inui Juice, Ryoma adds silently.
The therapist gives him a long, hard look. Ryoma notes that even with her brow furrowed and her lips pressed together, she still looks quite appealing. And the thought necessiates another mental slap.
After a few tense moments, the therapist gives up and sinks back into her chair.
"I...I think we'll end it here for today then," she says tiredly. "Could you please pass me that clipboard, Echizen-san?"
"Hn." As he passes the board, Ryoma catches sight of a familiar name.
"Ryuzaki."
The therapist's head snaps up.
"Yes?" she asks tentatively.
Ryoma looks down at the clipboard, then up at her, then down again, then up. At last he says, "You have the same last name as my middle school tennis coach."
Somewhere in the distance, he hears someone fall down and someone else facepalm themself.
But the therapist has the oddest expression on her face. She gingerly takes the clipboard from him and, clutching it close like a baby, gives Ryoma a blank smile.
"I know," she says at last.
It ends with them both staring off into space, a kind of mutually accepted silence between them.
Line Break
Slowly, so slowly that none one (except Inui) notices, the conversations grow longer. Twenty minutes turn into thirty, thirty minutes into forty five, and up and up until for the first time in his life, Echizen Ryoma is spending almost as much time talking to a girl as he does playing tennis.
They no longer talk about any problems - real or imaginary - that he might have. For this, Ryoma is grateful. Even without Inui telling him, he knows his movements have gotten slower, his swings and serves more sluggish. But he's still winning his matches without much effort, so the prince doesn't put too much thought into it.
Mostly, their talk centers around little unimportant things. Why he likes Ponta so much (no particular reason). How his cat, Karupin, is doing (six kittens and twenty-four grandchildren). And every time-
"Your hair is too long," Ryoma says.
Ryuzaki - he has stopped calling her "the therapist" now - places a steaming cup of black coffee in front of him.
"So what else is new lately?" she asks.
Ryoma almost laughs. Despite the sarcasm, Ryuzaki has hit the nail on the head, as she does so often. Ryoma blows on his coffee to cool it before replying, "You."
He watches her face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. There is none. Ryuzaki's face retains its neutral expression as she pours sugar into her own coffee and takes a sip.
It's an odd thing, these times, Ryoma muses. Always more silence than talk. Always an unspoken agreement not to get too serious. Ryoma realizes that that's the way he likes it. After all the crowded stadiums and flashing cameras and interviews filled with fake smiles and meaningless words; after hours of listening to screaming fangirls (who don't give a damn about his eardrums) or Inui lecturing him on the latest match; after it all, there is Ryuzaki.
Calm. Quiet. Simply there.
Echizen Ryoma never thought trying to get a reaction out of her would be so frustrating.
He's not sure what exactly it is he's looking for. A genuine smile, a non-cynical laugh - even the tiniest spark of life will do. Though he has no idea why he feels this way, Ryoma distinctly sense that Ryuzaki has changed somehow.
Like the many others he's had since meeting her, Ryoma dismisses this thought as ridiculous.
And still...still, he wants to ask her. Why she pauses every time she says his name, like she's reminding herself of something. How she knows that he'd rather talk about Ponta or Karupin or even nothing at all, than describe his latest tennis victory. He wants to ask her many things and unravel the mystery of her guarded expression. But the words get tangled up in his throat, and it comes out as, "Why did Inui choose you?"
Ryuzaki doesn't miss a beat. "I don't know. Ask Inui-senpai. He's the one that keeps making you come here."
An eye for an eye. But Ryoma doesn't smile as usual. Because it pushes him away. Because it's another way of saying, "Don't ask too many questions."
Of course, Echizen Ryoma has never been one to listen to what other people tell him.
"I'd rather hear your theory," he says. Ryoma pushes back his chair and stands up, bringing his mug over to where Ryuzaki is standing by the window. "Why...why do you let me do whatever I want? Why haven't you told the press about this? Isn't that what you're supposed to do, get me ready for whatever tournament's next month? The US Open?" The frustration in his voice rises to a shout, leaving stunned silence in its wake.
Ryuzaki's cool facade is slipping, and she's biting her lower lip white.
"Do you find these appointments unhelpful, Echizen-san?" she asks at last.
The question blows him away. Ryoma leans his head back against the wall with a defeated sigh.
Honestly, what is he doing? This isn't how he wants things to go at all. He just wanted to say thank you for... for everything. Ryuzaki could be meeting with other clients (she's paid per appointment, not per hour), but there's always time for him. She could tell the press that the famous Echizen Ryoma needs physical therapy (100% Inui-concocted lie), but the tabloids haven't leaked a peep about it. She has been in every way professional, and for some reason, it really really irritates him.
Ryoma sighs again.
Why is it so hard?
Surprisingly, it is Ryuzaki who breaks the silence.
"Maybe, maybe it came off wrong to you," she says slowly, staring into the depths of her thermos. "But I never thought of my job as giving the world what it wants to see. It's about making you better."
"And what if I don't want to get better?" Ryoma asks. The question is both atypically petulant and unusually serious.
What if I'm tired?
What if I want something else besides tennis?
What will you say, Ryuzaki?
She gives him one of those sweet but empty smiles, the steam from the coffee making her face look shimmery and distorted.
"Then I guess I'm not the right person. Because more than anything else, I want to see a Ryoma-kun who loves playing tennis again."
For a moment, neither speaks, the gravity of her words weighing down on them both.
Then Ryoma says, "Mada mada dane, Ryuzaki."
The tension dissapates instantly. Ryuzaki lets out a small laugh that only rings a bit too brightly.
"Whatever floats your boat, Echizen-san."
Line Break
Echizen Ryoma does not know what greater force prompted him to knock Kirihara Akaya unconscious.
But he' s pretty sure it wasn't his fault.
And it certainly doesn't warrant two hours of reverse psychology (by a certain tensai) and bad puns like "denial ain't just a river in Egypt" (Kikumaru and Momo), trying to get him to admit his feelings for a certain auburn-haired sports therapist.
"I am not jealous," Ryoma repeats for what seems like the hundredth time that day.
"Nyah, SURE ochibi," Kikumaru drawls, bouncing up and down on the bed of Ryoma's hotel room...which is currently serving as the site of an impromptu Seigaku reunion. "Kirihara just happened to be hugging Sakuno-chan when that ball happened to hit a nurse passing by, who just happened to slip on a puddle and pull down the fire alarm lever, which just happened to cause Kirihara to jump backwards and knock over the fishbowl on Sakuno-chan's desk. And the fishbowl just happened to fall down on Kirihara's head and knock him out. We saw you get rid of that bear that time, ochibi, we're not that stupid!"
"Actually Eiji, such a situation has an 85% chance of happening wherever Kirihara goes," Inui says. "He's very accident-prone."
Thank you, the prince sighs mentally as Kikumaru deflates.
"However," Inui continues, pushing his glasses up, "one must consider why Echizen would hit a Twist Serve in a doctor's office, in the first place.
Oh holy sweet mother of-
"Haha, gotcha now!" Kikumaru giggles maniacally. He catches Ryoma in a headlock, ignoring the prince's glower and singing inane things like "nyah nyah!" and "so young!" as he bounces with glee.
"Kikumaru-senpai...can't...breathe..."
"Ooooh, thinking 'bout your Sa-ku-no-chan again?"
"We're not - she's not - there was a cat!" Ryoma yells.
Abruptly, Kikumaru lets go. Relief that the world isn't oscillating in front of his eyes anymore briefly consumes Ryoma, before he realizes that the room has gone very quiet.
His senpai-tachi are staring at him with varying degrees of shock/disbelief/an outright look of "are you really that stupid?"And while ignoring people is something he's gotten fairly good at over the years, this is something else entirely. Ryoma's insides are squirming and he feels like he's being examined by a very high-power microscope.
Ducking his head, the prince mutters, "There was a cat and, and it was going to eat Ryuzaki's goldfish, so I hit...the...ball..." Ryoma's voice trails off as what he's saying sinks in.
"That," Momoshiro says at last, "is one of the stupidest and most insensitive things you've ever said. In a long line of stupid and insensitive things. When are you gonna learn how to treat girls, Echizen?"
"I told you, Ryuzaki has nothing to do with-"
Slap.
Ryoma's eyes bulge to the size of two small moons. Faintly, he hears Oishi's shocked cry of "Tezuka!" Slowly, the prince of tennis lifts his gaze fom the floor to meet calm but stern brown eyes.
"Echizen."
Once before, it had been like this. Tezuka was never one to use senseless physical violence, but that hadn't stopped him from slapping Ryoma when the latter insisted on playing Kevin Smith in an unofficial match their first year at Nationals. Granted, it was more like a glancing blow and barely hurt at all. But Ryoma couldn't have felt more winded or guilty if he'd been Tarundoru!-slapped by Rikkai Dai's Sanada Genichirou himself.
Speaking of which, winded and guilty is precisely what Ryoma is feeling right now.
"Ah," he says. Pause. "Hai, buchou."
Tezuka nods. The rest of the team, except perhaps Inui and Fuji, look absolutely gobsmacked.
The former Seigaku tennis captain turns and starts for the door. Fuji casts a meaningful glance at Ryoma before following suit, holding onto Tezuka's right arm in gesture far more than friendly. And suddenly, before Ryoma knows it, all of his senpai-tachi are filing out the door.
Inui is the last to go.
The data player pushes up his ever-opaque glasses, but doesn't open his notebook. "Echizen, though you only have a 0.35% chance of understanding this: the cure is yourself."
And Ryoma, in true fashion, is left wondering not about Ryuzaki, not about Tezuka's slap, not about his senpai-tachi's disappointed looks - but about how much of what Inui said back in middle school was total BS.
Line Break
"Oi, seishounen."
"Oyaji."
"Wah! Rinko, Ryoma answered! I told you that the thirteenth edition of my magazine was supposed to be a good luck charm - ow! ow! Okay, I get it! Heh. How're ya, brat?"
"...goodbye, oyaji."
"No, wait! Ryoma, you have to tell me about your girlfriend!"
"My what?"
"Che, that Momoshiro was with his wife in the drugstore yesterday-"
"And you were probably there to pick up that thirteenth edition-"
"Shhh! Do you want your mother to kill your father before he gets to see his grandchildren? Anyway, cute little An-chan was wondering if you would join them for Christmas this year, and then Momoshiro said you probably wouldn't because you'd be too busy with-"
"I am NOT dating Ryuzaki!"
…
…
…
"EHHHH? That old hag's granddaughter? Well, I suppose she IS cute. So though I fear what my daughter-in-law will be like in old age, I want you to know that you have my and your mother's full support-"
*Click*
"What on earth are you doing?" Echizen Rinko asks when she peers into the hallway, only to find her husband lying despondently on the floor with waterfalls pouring out his eyes.
"Ry-Ryoma's so stupid!" Nanjiroh wails. "Rinko, tell me why our son is such an emotionally constipated, asexual brat!"
Ryoma's mother sighs and walks over to Nanjiroh. She looks down at this man, her husband for some 20-something years. She thinks about her first impression of him: happy-go-lucky, (very very VERY) perverted, and with just enough sense of justice in him to keep others from knocking him flat.
She thinks about what he said when he quit just a hairspan away from his "big dreams".
"Ne, Rinko, this little guy has good eyes, don't you think?"
She smiles wryly and pats his head.
"He is, isn't he?"
For better or for worse, my son.
Line Break
Later, Ryoma will never look at tight purple pants the same way again.
It had all started out innocently (normally) enough. He'd been sitting in a random park, hoodie pulled up to hide his face and sipping a can of Grape Ponta, when a shrill scream interrupted his peace.
"Thief! Over here!"
-and then a force slammed past him, knocking into his shoulder and causing the half-finished Ponta to fall to the ground with a thunk.
Purple, sticky juice pooled around his sneakers.
Ryoma whipped his head back, about to Twist-Serve the idiot in the jaw, when he saw a robber wearing a red beanie and very tight purple pants.
Everything slowed down for a few incredulous seconds.
The thief glanced over his shoulder, caught sight of Ryoma, and promptly did a backwards double-take into a streetlamp, sending the bag in his hands flying into the air. It traced a graceful parabola through space before landing right into Ryoma's arms.
The prince of tennis blinked once. Twice.
A brown-haired woman ran up to him, tugging her young child by the hand.
"Arigatou gozaimasu," she said breathlessly, bowing. "Thank you so much for stopping him."
Ryoma could have pointed out any number of things at this point: that he hadn't done anything except stand there, that the thief was probably reliving a prior episode involving Ibu Shinji and grip tape - but all he could focus on were the tight purple pants.
They were close-fitting, well cut, with silver sequins sewed along the ankle. It seemed important somehow.
And indeed, this incident would forever be known in the unwritten Book of Revelations as the Case of Echizen Ryoma and the Tight Purple Pants.
However it happened, at that instant, the pieces fell together. Ryoma ran.
Line Break
"I figured it out."
Ryuzaki looks up from her desk and raises an eyebrow at the panting tennis legend who's just burst through her door carrying - "Is that a woman's purse?"
Ryoma looks down and realizes that he never returned the woman's handbag after all.
"...Yeah?"
Ryuzaki's eyebrows inch a bit higher. "Is there something I should know about, Echizen-san?"
Know about?
You?
Yes.
"Hell yes." He plants both arms on her desk and leans in close, delighting in the flicker of uncertainty that flashes through her eyes. "I figured out how to cure my 'illness'."
Despite looking unnerved (as any therapist should be when a male celebrity runs into her office carrying a purse and looking ecstatic), Ryuzaki manages a, "Really? Enlighten me."
The cure is yourself.
"Ryuzaki. Let's make a kid."
Line Break
It is, in its own sense, she thinks later, a fairy tale.
True, this is not how she dreamed it to be when they were still in middle school. She never did become the girl who would support him as he pursued his dreams to the very top. Life goes on no matter what - high school and parents divorcing and college and Brave New World America - and somewhere along the way, she'd relinquished whatever flimsy claim on him she'd had.
In a way, it is almost ironic, that she would actually be the catalyst for him quitting the pro tennis scene. And for that, she believes this must be a fairy tale, because real stories such as her parents' simply do not end this well.
"Do you ever think we got it backwards?" he asks one day. They are sitting on the porch of their house in Japan, snacking on slices of watermelon and watching their son totter through the grass with his first racquet.
He continues: "Aren't people supposed to fall in love first, then date, then get married, and have kids?"
"Well, we got the last two right," she points out. "And I'd like to think everything else came along."
He nods. " 'S true."
They both watch Echizen Minami swat at a passing butterfly. He misses and falls over on his overall-ed bottom.
After a moment, she asks, "And what does the great Echizen Ryoma think?" For all the teasing tone and after all these years, there is still a trace of seriousness in the question. Something that says, "Don't force yourself."
Funny how that just makes him want to hold on even tighter.
"Tou-san! Tou-san!" Minami waves a chubby hand and beams. "I got wun! Now'll you pway with me?"
This time I will not hesitate.
This time, I know what I want.
"Mada mada dane, kid. Let's go."
There are some questions that answer themselves.
Author's Note:
I honestly have no idea where that third to last section came from. Tight purple pants. Oh God. Hopefully, that didn't creep too many of you out.
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