Author's note: Hey guys, I'm back... (sheepish grin)
I am very, very sorry for the long, long break I took from writing fanfiction. A lot of things happened that contributed to my absence. The gist of it is on my now-revived blog. Sorry for the lack of updates. There are so many things I would have loved to forget and I won't be writing them on my blog. I just hope my apology is enough to cover for my unexplained absence.
This story is a new story that I had been playing in my mind for a while and I decided to put it into words. Hope this will mark my return to writing fanfiction!
Also, since I haven't been writing for some time, my writing skills may be rusty and I have not found the right feeling yet. Therefore I would like to ask if anyone would be willing to be my beta reader. The details will be put up in my blog. Please do not PM me about this, please comment on my blog post instead.
Thank you all and please enjoy the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis or any of its characters.
We Called It Love
Chapter 1: Prologue
Blue skies. White clouds. Great weather. If it weren't for the fact that he was currently 30,000 feet up in the sky Ryoma would have taken his racket out for some tennis practice.
The golden-eyed young man was staring out of the window of his first-class seat with as much enthusiasm as a deer meeting a lion. His muscular body was slumped comfortably into the spacious seat and the ample leg space allowed his long limbs to be fully outstretched.
Ryoma gave a yawn as he shifted his position on the seat. He had done his fair share of travelling around the world. After all, he is the reigning tennis champion with 14 Grand Slam titles under his belt. He is also the first player of Asian heritage to achieve number 1 in the ATP rankings and the second after Michael Chang to have won a Grand Slam. His immense success not only cemented his popularity in Japan but also the entire world. He enjoys an especially strong following in Asia, with media outlets dubbing him as "Asia's Tennis Prince", showing the enormous amount of pride they held for him as an Asian conquering the world of professional tennis which was previously dominated by the West. Travelling from country to country to play in tennis matches was nothing new to Ryoma, but how he loathed plane rides. Being stuck up there for what seemed like days and not able to do anything else but acting like a couch potato while hovering thousands of miles above the ground was an absolute torture. And the after-effect of jet lag didn't help things either.
"Why can't all the tennis tournaments be held within walking distance of each other?" Ryoma had complained to his manager who just shrugged it off. He was used to whims of the tennis prodigy and being his longest serving manager, knew how to handle him.
Clayton Kuribayashi, a handsome young man, held the enviable position, at least in the eyes of his fangirls, of tennis superstar Echizen Ryoma's manager. In reality, he would so gladly relieve himself of the duties of Ryoma's manager if he was able to. The Prince of Tennis, who had received an upgrade to become the King of Tennis, has as much personality as the Pacific Ocean and the Atlantic Ocean combined and had proved too difficult an assignment for the common tennis manager to undertake. No less than a dozen managers had either voluntarily resigned or was fired by the tennis prodigy until he took over. The meek were taken advantage of by Ryoma, the normal were infuriated by his behavior while the bad, actually the money-grubbing ones, were instantly given the boot, most of the time by Ryoma's close friends and relatives. Things got so bad that his mother had to step in as a substitute to face an indignant protest from her son. That was when Clayton took over and the only thing that made him successful in managing Ryoma was his vested interest in him.
In contrast to the most commonly interpreted meaning of "vested interest" with implications of personal financial gain, Clayton's 'interest' in Ryoma was no more than that of a big brother. He had no interest in sucking off Ryoma's personal wealth, although being the manager of a tennis superstar did come with good monetary rewards. Armed with an MBA from a prestigious university, he was earning a substantial income from a good job before he switched to being his manager. In fact, he only took on the job after countless persuasions by the Echizens and his wife and Ryoma's cousin, Meino Nanako.
Clayton Kuribayashi is a second-generation Japanese-American and had lived in Los Angeles since he was born. His family and the Echizens were neighbours in the past and he had played the role of the neighbourhood big brother to the young Ryoma at that time. Being an ardent tennis fan, he looked up to the "Samurai", Echizen Nanjiroh and was excited to be neighbours with him. He also treated Ryoma as a precious little brother as he had no siblings of his own and was greatly disappointed when they decided to move back to Japan. Therefore, he was pleasantly surprised when they returned with Ryoma who was planning to turn pro in the US. Their return also led to him meeting and marrying his current wife, Nanako.
The appointment of Clayton as Ryoma's manager raised a couple of eyebrows and the media soon began to speculate if the Echizens wanted to "keep the money within the family". Some tabloids went on the more aggressive route, criticizing Clayton as a shrewd manipulator and a cunning predator who sneaked his way into the Echizen family and preyed on their wealth. These tabloids soon received a lawyer's letter courtesy of Echizen Rinko which quickly culminated in an apology and quelled all sorts of defamatory reports against him. Protests erupted among Ryoma's fans but the negative opinions were subsequently muted as Ryoma made his way up to the pinnacle of the tennis world under his management. When asked about his success in managing the talented but difficult player, he attributed it to him not seeing Ryoma as a business opportunity but as a brother. And he meant every word of it. Before he took up the post, Clayton had people under him doing his bidding. But as Ryoma's manager, he was under a "darn brat" which he had no qualms about saying it straight into his face. He was most reluctant to take up the post as it would have meant a complete reversal of his lifestyle. However, after repeated persuasions from Nanako and Rinko, he finally gave in, part of him unwilling to see the dreams of a talented individual and most importantly, his dear little brother dashed because of matters unrelated to his goal. Ryoma also acknowledged his brotherly love and learnt to tone down his attitude and do most of the things that Clayton asked him to. Despite his personality flaws, he knew when a person was true to him and when they were not and Clayton fit comfortably in the former category.
Although not as attractive as Ryoma, Clayton possesses looks that would be considered good-looking in a normal person's standards. Lean muscles supported his lanky frame and Ryoma could swear that those deceptively slender arms are able to muster deadly shots into his opponents' court in amateur tennis. The fringe of his short, chestnut hair that was always neatly cropped sat obediently above his brow. A pair of rimless glasses rested comfortably on his high nose, barely shielding his deep, dark brown eyes whose gaze is enough to send high schoolgirls into fits of giggles and turn women into blushing tomatoes. His eyes were the very thing that Nanako was attracted to in the first place and she described them as having a "mysterious, velvety look", to which Ryoma only threw her a look of incomprehension. Being in his early thirties, Clayton sported a mature but boyish look and this was not lost on the female population. The image of two pretty boys together sent a chill of excitement through the fangirls and soon, Clayton and Ryoma found themselves having a fandom dedicated to their relationship, much to Ryoma's disgust and Clayton's amusement. However, that did not make his job of shunning away over-zealous fangirls any easier since the Echizen Ryoma fanbase easily transverses the million mark. And now, more than 30,000 feet up in the air, two of the aforementioned fangirls lay right in front of his eyes.
Clayton gave a heavy sigh. Just when he had given the airline strict instructions on such behaviour, he finds the cabin staff breaking every single rule he had set. The airline had practically begged them to take their flight with the promise of an uninterrupted ride in first class for free. The uninterrupted ride was the deciding factor for Clayton. With prize money from tournaments and money from endorsements, a seat in first class was nothing more than the price of a pea for him. What really mattered was privacy and despite the warnings and promises, the airline seemed to have failed in educating their staff on the protocol of having a VVIP on board. Clayton made a mental note to file an official complaint with the airline.
"I have some matters to handle." Clayton said in a low voice to Ryoma who momentarily shifted his attention from his 3DS to his manager and cousin-in-law. "I'll be back soon." He finished and left his seat.
Ryoma glanced at the older man's back and from his direction and the two air stewardesses who had hurriedly drew the curtain, deduced that he was going to deal with his fangirls again.
"Fangirls…" Ryoma mentally noted with disgust. His experience with them went back to his middle school days and he had only one word to describe them. Annoying. However, as his status in the tennis world rose, so did their numbers and the intensity of their stalker tendencies, leading him to use another word to describe them. Creepy. That underwear set he received in the mail? It took him two weeks to rid himself of that grotesque scene. The fangirls (and fanboys) who look as if they were there to rape him instead of supporting him? He would have launched his entire ammunition of tennis balls on them if not stopped by his manager who said he could be charged with genocide. And that woman who had stripped naked in front of his hotel room in Madrid? No amount of eye drops could get rid of the monstrous image and he had to cleanse his eyes by looking at Sa….
Ryoma stopped his train of thoughts. Just a bit more and he would be in forbidden territory. His grip on his gaming console tightened as he closed his eyes. A loud "Game Over!" from his 3DS snapped him back to reality. As if mocking him, a big, blinking "Game Over" flashed across the screen, his character dead in the background. Ryoma muttered a curse under his breath and threw the console aside angrily. He grabbed his signature cap and pulled it low so that it covered his face. He adjusted the seat back and lay down just as Clayton returned.
"Did something happen?" He asked in a curious tone.
"Mada mada dane!" Ryoma grunted irritably from below his cap and stubbornly turned away from him.
Clayton gave an inaudible sigh as he slipped into his seat beside Ryoma. It was going to be a long ride back to Japan.
The wind ruffled against the trees and with each gust, eased some leaves off their branches to a bed of red and yellow below. A woman with hazel-brown eyes and silky long hair peeked outside the window of her kitchen and gave a smile, savouring the gratuitous musical of autumn.
"Ding!" An oven alarm went off amidst the tranquillity.
"Is it done? Is it done?" An energetic voice echoed from the living room as the swift pattering of footsteps neared the kitchen.
The woman with long chocolate tresses gave a warm laugh as she saw her friend dart into the kitchen like an excited puppy.
"Tomo-chan! Are you that hungry?" She teased.
"Who can resist that smell!" Tomoka exclaimed as she took a deep whiff the sweet aroma that enveloped the kitchen.
"Sakuno you are a GENIUS at baking!" She continued her shameless compliments as she glomped her friend of over 15 years gleefully from behind.
"Mou, Tomo-chan!" Sakuno gave a smile of embarrassment to the joyful brunette while gently prying her hands off.
Having escaped the energetic Tomoka's embrace, Sakuno made her way to the oven that was continuously emitting a tantalizing fragrance. Putting on kitchen gloves, she lowered the oven lid and the delicious aroma rushed out impatiently.
"Aaahhh…." Tomoka led out a sigh of utter content as the enticing smell conducted a short, melodious tune within her senses, building up her anticipation of the main concerto.
Sakuno placed the oven pan, adorned by tidy rows of oval-shaped confectioneries, on the kitchen table as a satisfied smile crossed her features.
"The macarons turned out great!" She could not hide the tinge of fulfilment in her voice as she studied her creations that were looking back at her with all their delectability.
"Shape, aroma, texture, colour, it's all perfect! Sakuno, your skills are getting better and better!" Tomoka praised Sakuno who was turning slightly pink from her compliments.
"Mo…Mou Tomo-chan!" Sakuno stammered slightly. "There is still room for improvement!"
Despite having matured into beautiful woman, Sakuno still kept hints of her schoolgirl bashfulness and her stutter, although the incidences of the latter showed a sharp decline after graduating from high school. As Tomoka put it, a Sakuno overflowing with self-confidence is not Sakuno; a Sakuno with a blush and an occasional stammer is their Sakuno. No matter how much she has changed, her kind and unassuming quality was what made Sakuno distinctly her and all of her friends and family hoped she would always stay that way.
"So this is for the Okinawa dessert special?" Tomoka said as she examined the macarons that were coloured in purple, beige and dark brown.
Sakuno nodded her head in response. "The chief editor requested for an additional segment on desserts made with the specialties of the different regions in Japan. Then I remembered the black sugar that Obaa-chan had brought back from her recent trip to Okinawa and tried to make macarons from it." She answered.
"It was delicious and so I thought I should feature Okinawan products in the debut feature!" Sakuno added with a smile.
"So the purple ones are made of purple yam, the beige ones are Okinawa sea salt caramel and the dark brown ones are Okinawa black sugar?" Tomoka queried, sniffing each one for verification.
"Yes." Sakuno confirmed while suppressing a slight laugh over her best friend's antics. She was already a woman with 28 years of age under her name and yet managed to effortlessly slip back to her teens every time. Having a highly-contagious positive attitude and seemingly endless vitality is Tomoka's trademark and Sakuno was thankful she has someone like her around.
"I can't wait to try them!" Tomoka exclaimed, her eyes shining with anticipation.
Sakuno laughed out loud. "Wipe that drool off your face Tomo-chan. After the macarons have cooled down and I have taken some pictures we can have afternoon tea together!"
Tomoka, being the excitable bunny she was, jumped up in sheer joy. "Got it ma'am!" She gave Sakuno a mock-salute with a cheeky grin on her face. "I'll go make the tea! You can go get your camera and finish up your work. I'm starving!" Tomoka said as she bounded over to the tea cupboard.
Sakuno placed the macarons on a plate and left the kitchen to go up to her room to retrieve her camera. As she passed the living room she realised that Tomoka had left the television on. She picked up the remote that had been casually placed on the sofa and was about to press the off button when the TV screen caught her eye.
Splashed across the screen in bright red were the words "The Tennis King Returns!". A dark-haired man, his eyes partially hidden by a white cap was the main focus of the report. Reporters, cameramen, and civilians were all crowding around him like he was the only spring in the desert and the screams and shouts in the background only served to intensify the magnitude of hysteria. Policemen and bodyguards attempting to clear the way and fighting off wayward hands from reaching the visibly annoyed main character only served to reinforce the interpretation of the current situation as pure chaos.
"Echizen Ryoma, the current world number 1, is back in Japan to a rabid welcome from his fans." The host of the entertainment news reported. "He…"
The sound of the television became inaudible to Sakuno. She was staring straight at the screen, fixated on the tennis superstar who was currently sporting an irritated look. Her bright hazel eyes suddenly became dull as a close-up of Ryoma plastered across the monitor. As if afraid of having eye contact, she looked away as the camera took a front shot of his frustrated but still handsome face. Her finger closed in on the red button on the remote and with slight pressure, pressed down on it. The image of Echizen Ryoma swiftly disappeared as a blank screen rapidly took his place. Sakuno slowly looked up, and as if to confirm that his image was gone, let her eyes linger on the empty display. Taking a deep breath, she quietly put the remote down on the table and walked steadily in the direction of the stairs.
Author's notes: Please read and review!