This was the result of a fifteen-minute word challenge that ran longer. The challenge word is stated at the end of the ficlet.

You Snooze You Lose (Prince of Tennis)

By Haruka (haruka at ymail dot com)

Echizen Nanjiroh came out of the diner and burped, scratching himself. That had been a nice little snack before heading home to dinner, and it was almost time for the bus to arrive. He headed for the bus stop and took a seat on the bench, then nearly jumped into orbit along with a teenage boy who had been stretched out and sleeping there.

"Wh-a – What happened?!" the boy exclaimed, gasping for breath. "Mister, did you just sit on my FACE?!"

"Your face shouldn't have been on the bench!" Nanjiroh accused. "The bench is for sitting, not sleeping!"

The boy stretched, yawning. "I was just taking a little nap, no big deal." He blinked at Nanjiroh, puzzled. "You look familiar."

Nanjiroh realized that this boy was not only wearing the uniform for Hyotei Gakuen, but he had a tennis racquet with him. "You're on the Hyotei team, eh?"

"I'm one of the Regulars - Akutagawa Jiroh." He rubbed his eyes drowsily and peered at Nanjiroh more closely. His eyes widened dramatically. "Hey, I know where I've seen you before; in a tennis magazine I was reading last night. You're Echizen Nanjiroh, the Samurai!"

Nanjiroh turned away, folding his arms into the sleeves of his robe. "No, no, you've got the wrong guy. I'm just a simple monk."

Jiroh was bouncing in place now. "Yes, yes, it's YOU, I know it is! The Samurai, here in the flesh, oh my GOSH!" His entire expression was lit up like a Christmas tree and all the presents under it were his. "Please tell me about your LIFE! All your matches, your opponents, how it felt to play the –"

"Here's my bus!" Nanjiroh said with relief, knowing that a Hyotei student wouldn't be living out in his direction. "Nice talking to you, bye!" He jumped onto the vehicle before the door was fully open and took a seat. To his dismay, Jiroh plopped down beside him, his excited gaze focused unwaveringly on Nanjiroh.

"When did you first know that you wanted to play tennis – way back when you were my age? I'm fourteen, by the way. I heard you used to go to Seigaku, is that true? Were the players as good then as they are now? The same Coach is there as was when you played for them, right?"

"Kid," Nanjiroh interrupted, "we're driving AWAY from Hyotei district! Why were you waiting for this bus, anyway?"

"Huh?" Jiroh paused and looked around. "Oh, I DID get on the bus, didn't I?" He laughed and rubbed his head. "I was just taking a nap on that bench – I didn't mean to actually take the bus." He shrugged cheerfully. "Oh well, it gives me more time to ask you questions!"

That's what Nanjiroh had been afraid of.

All the way home, Jiroh badgered Nanjiroh about his career, bouncing and crawling all over the seat in his excitement until he nearly gave the former tennis star motion sickness. Nanjiroh kept hoping that the boy would get off the bus and start seeking his way home, but he apparently didn't care WHERE he was headed so long as he could talk to him.

Finally, they stopped near Nanjiroh's temple and he got off, breathing another sigh of relief.

"So you really ARE a monk now?"

"GAHHH!" Nanjiroh jumped and spun around. "You got OFF?! How are you going to get home now?!"

"There'll be a bus going the other way eventually, right?" Jiroh said, his face eager as he stood on his toes and scanned the property. "You really DO have a court in your back yard, just like you said!"

"Why would I lie about that?" Nanjiroh mumbled and headed for the house. Jiroh dogged his steps.

"May I see it? Just stand on it, maybe? To stand on the same court that the Samurai has played on would be SO COOL!"

"I'm home!" Nanjiroh announced as he went into the house, his shadow following him without hesitation. Nanjiroh glanced back at him, then yelled up the stairs, "BOY!"

His son, Ryoma, came down without rushing. "What?" He paused on the stairs, frowning at Jiroh. "What's a Hyotei player doing here?"

"He followed me home!" Nanjiroh snapped.

Jiroh pointed at Ryoma suddenly. "Echizen Ryoma! From Seigaku!" He turned back to Nanjiroh. "He's YOUR son?! That's amazing! No wonder he's so good!" He bounced over to Ryoma. "You'll have to tell me everything about growing up with the Samurai! I'll bet he's been a nurturing, encouraging tennis teacher—"

Ryoma's cousin came out of the kitchen. "Dinner is about ready. Oh, we have a gue - mmph!"

Ryoma's hand was over her mouth in a flash and he hissed at Nanjroh. "I'll take him home, put him to bed, and read him a story, if only you do NOT let him stay for dinner!"

"Deal!" Nanjiroh agreed. "Take him back right now – we'll keep your dinner warm for you. Or give it to the cat."

"HEY!" Ryoma said indignantly and turned around to talk to Jiroh, only to nearly trip over him instead. While he'd been debating with his family, the other boy had sprawled out in their entryway and gone back to sleep.

"Chance!" Nanjiroh declared happily, then lifted Jiroh in his arms and headed for the door. Ryoma opened it for him and his father carried the slumbering boy down the path to the sidewalk, laying him down there and locking the gate behind him.

"That's terrible! You two can't do that!" his niece protested.

"YES, WE CAN!" Nanjiroh and Ryoma retorted and sat down to dinner without regret.

(Word challenge – Jubilant)

(2005)

Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.

This fic is not to be re-posted.