Ryoma watched with wide eyes as Momo stalked up to Kitobe and punched him in the face. He fell backwards, hit his head on the blackboard with a resounding smack, and Ryoma winced inwardly for him. Momo smirked and said something to the limp form on the floor, and comprehension slowly began to dawn and Ryoma's eyes narrowed into a glare.
The classroom began to fill up with onlookers, and Ryoma dragged Momo out by the arm before a teacher could come. Not that he cared if Momo got into severe trouble – he just didn't want to explain the situation. It was too embarrassing. They passed Fuji and Eiji in the corridor (who looked entirely too interested) so Ryoma dragged Momo into the nearest empty classroom, shutting the door behind him.
"I do not," Ryoma stated, very quietly, "need you to protect me."
"He deserved it, Echizen." Momoshiro crossed his arms, eyes drawn and mouth set into a stubborn line. "He was bullying you."
"As you should be aware already," Ryoma ground out, hands clenching into fists at the side of his thighs, "I do not get bullied."
The 'I bully everyone else' was left unsaid.
"But he stole your books and tripped you over all the time, I've seen it!" Momo ignored the warning signs. "It isn't right. You wouldn't go to the teachers if it killed you, I had to do something."
"It's none of your business." Ryoma stated again, chin tilted upwards and matching Momo for stubbornness. "You don't have the right."
"Fine then!" Momo growled, annoyed and embarrassed at the same time, having wanted to help and then having failed most spectacularly. "I'm sorry for even trying to help."
He stormed out of the classroom, bypassing Fuji and Eiji completely.
…
Tennis practice was absolutely awful.
Even with Inui's attempts at reducing the amount of Penal Tea offered as punishment, and Tezuka 'overlooking' some misdemeanours, the fact that Momo and Echizen were annoyed with each other was painfully obvious. No one really knew what had happened between the two, but the rest of the tennis club was only too keen to speculate. So far, Horio had established it had something to do with Kitobe's crush on Echizen (he kept on writing notes to Echizen in his exercise books) and Fuji had brilliantly deduced that Momo was jealous.
Besides, it affected the whole club – no one could ignore the glares and the spiteful little comments that came from the two; under the pretence that they were ignoring each other, of course.
It was a new level of childishness, not even touched upon by Eiji.
"But," Momo yelled to Oishi on the other side of the court, "don't you think counter spin is rather outdated now? I mean, just look at the number of people who can return the Twist Serve."
Oishi smiled nervously, regretting bringing up spin into the conversation at all. Kaidoh looked up from his game with Echizen, and Momo's fake laugh was heard as Ryoma's golden eyes tried to bore holes into his skin.
"Kaidoh," Ryoma yelled back (though if it was directed towards Kaidoh or Momo, it wasn't clear,) "I'm so glad I'm playing against you, it's nice to have a bit of intelligence in a game once in a while. You know, instead of people whacking balls as hard as they can all the time."
Kawamura was standing by the side, watching Eiji and Fuji's game. He looked hurt. Eiji, sensing that things were getting nasty, shot a pleading look to Fuji, who in turn, looked at the only one who held any authority in Seigaku. Tezuka stared back. And then he looked away, eyebrow twitching, once.
"Momoshiro, Echizen, over here, now."
They continued to ignore the order, not wanting to cross over to the same side of the tennis courts.
"Now."
Needless to say, despite all their disagreements, no one argued with Tezuka when he took on that tone of voice.
…
An hour after practice had finished, and they were still at it.
Despite having been demoted to clearing up on his own with Momo, Ryoma was sadistically amused as he lobbed tennis ball after tennis ball over the top of the court netting. Tezuka watched with growing irritation as Momo went outside to collect the balls, only to lob them straight back again. Aiming directly at Echizen's head.
Finally, he had had enough.
Stalking up to the two, Tezuka levelled a severe glare at them over the rim of his glasses.
"If you two do not settle your differences and clear away this court by the end of this day, you two will be banned from any upcoming matches."
He was given identical looks of horror.
"I do not care." Tezuka continued, not waiting for an answer. "I am going home now. In fact, if I come back tomorrow, and if I find one tennis ball missing, I am pulling Seigaku out of the competition completely. We are supposed to function as a team."
And with that, he walked out of the tennis courts, slamming the gate behind him.
"He doesn't mean that." Momo croaked.
Ryoma 'aahed' in agreement, but he didn't sound too convinced.
…
The court had been cleared up in silence - Ryoma picking up the balls with a cap placed firmly over his eyes, and Momo sweeping the court with a rake that pulled awkwardly behind him. It was dark enough so that the automatic flood lights had been switched on, and they both sat down on the turf, backs leaning against the wire fence. It was too bright on the pitch to see the stars, but the sky was clear and the night was still quite warm from the day's sun.
"I'm sorry." Momo finally said, apology leaving his lips unbidden.
There was a long pause, and he almost repeated himself when Ryoma shifted and said,
"Yeah, I know." But that was over within a moment and a smirk curled itself around his lips and he continued. "That was the crappiest apology I've ever had to accept."
Momo's hand twitched, and he forced himself keep still. The silence lasted for another few moments, and the mood became peaceful, tranquil as Ryoma shifted closer so that their thighs and shoulders were pressed flat against each other. Momo brought an arm up to wrap around Ryoma's thin shoulders.
"So," He said, deciding to risk it, "why were you so angry with me anyway?"
Ryoma leaned into the embrace. He closed his eyes serenely, yawned sleepily and mumbled,
"I wanted to punch him myself."
end