TITLE: Life Through a Fangirl's Eyes
AUTHOR: Dudly
DISCLAIMER: Prince of Tennis belongs to someone who's Japanese, male, probably rich, and kind of old. That's not me.
x
"Fight! Seigaku, fight!"
A lot could be said about Tomoka. A lot had been said about her, actually.
She was loud, reckless, always talking, always fangirling over Echizen Ryoma…Tomoka knew it all. She just didn't care- it wasn't in her nature to give those badmouth attention. At least she didn't talk behind people back. The girl had trouble grasping why they made such a big deal out of her behaviour. It wasn't as if people suffered from her attitude, quite the opposite.
"Game and match, Kikumaru and Oishi pair." The fangirl supported the idols, the idols won, making her cheer even louder each time. It was a never-ending circle.
"Thanks, nya, Osakada!"
Most of the Regulars were grateful, thanking her for her encouragements at the end of the game. She didn't need it, though. Every time, she grinned and claimed: "I did it for Ryoma-sama!" And every time, the player laughed awkwardly, thanking her all the same. Only Fuji had started to see through her little game; only he knew she didn't do it for Echizen Ryoma, but for herself.
Therein laid the truth; if she didn't act like she did, nobody would. Nobody would cheer all out for Seigaku to win, when they were clearly two inches away from falling, when they were that close to failure. Nobody would scream for victory until their mouth ran dry, no matter how important the match. Nobody would do any of the fangirling stuff Tomoka did so effortlessly.
She wasn't part of the team, but she had her part designed for her, cherished by her. When she played her act, the team would win.
It was that simple.
It was what made Tomoka want to go, what made Tomoka happy. It was a selfish pleasure, to know that you had an impact on the result of the game, and Tomoka didn't underestimate it.
Echizen Ryoma was, of course, yet another reason. A reason she couldn't neglect.
Love. She loved him. In her weird, exuberant and loud way, she loved him. She loved him for being a great tennis player, for being everything she wasn't.
Ryoma was quiet, walked coolly and was indifferent to his surroundings. The world outside a tennis court seemed non-existent to the boy. He played an entirely different act than Tomoka, but they were aiming the same thing: Seigaku's victory. Ryoma's victory.
Two different games, yet so compatible. He would play and she would cheer. He would give the best of his capacities, and she would give the best of her lungs, trusting him to fly higher, always.
When he would be extremely quiet, she would be extremely loud. She would annoy him out of his mind, and he would snap at her, worries forgotten. She would make him hate her, she would withstand the annoyed gleam in his eyes and the dangerous edge of his voice without flinching just so he would stop being so darn apathetic.
She didn't make him happy: she wasn't his princess. She knew that all too well. It wasn't her role to be the one he loved. The role she gave herself was simply to be at his side, whether he wanted it or not. From there, she could improvise.
She wasn't his princess: she wasn't one to be stuck in a dungeon, waiting for him to come and rescue her. She didn't need a knight in shining armour. She didn't want it. No, she was the one pushing him onward. Ryoma never realized it. She doubted anyone did.
It wasn't time for them to know, not yet. When they would recognize the mechanism of her master plan, Ryoma would hopefully have long reached the damsel in distress. Tomoka was nudging him subtly towards Sakuno, covering it with her own love for the boy. Sakuno, she was certain, was the quiet princess that would make Ryoma happy one day, when both would have grown up. Her best friend was sweet and caring, patient enough to handle to boy.
Yes, Tomoka knew well enough that she wasn't the princess for her handsome prince. She didn't want that role.
"RYOMA-SAMA! Do your best! Beat the crap out of him!"
"Hn."
Once again, Echizen had won, just like she hoped he would. It was enough for her. Sure, she wasn't his girlfriend, she wasn't even his friend. She was only the annoying fangirl…
And she was proud to be.
.end
