Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter and the Prince of Tennis.
English isn't my first language and I apologise if this work isn't perfect.
Music for inspiration : Meri Kuri by BoA, Spellbound by TVXQ, Mayday! Mayday! by BoA, Rise... by TVXQ, Rock with You by BoA, Winter Rose by TVXQ.
The white, white snow's coming tonight
Make a wish upon your kiss
Echizen Ryoma walked leisurely, ignoring the chilly winter. He was twenty three, dressed in verdant jumper and dark trousers and no tennis bag in sight. Casually inserted coins into vending machine, he grabbed his favourite soda and went back in his room.
The Prince of Tennis was no longer playing tennis?
He snorted, remembering the past article while sitting in his couch with Ponta in hand and saw the hanging calendar.
Today was 23rd of December.
His birthday was tomorrow.
He was alone. His parents were in US. His brother disappeared like usual.
His eyes instinctively went into his favourite rackets.
He looked away, not wanting to recall the empty, void feeling that sucked his soul whenever he started playing.
It was like a forgotten nightmare, he screamed in terror, pure rage. He screamed so loudly at that time, drowning all the sound around him, of his father's yelling and his mother's sobbing, hatred engulfing his little heart for God had taken the only thing he loved, he had lived and he would live for.
His family had been torn because of tennis.
Yet, he hadn't burnt every single rackets and tennis ball his father had packed with him.
Just like him that couldn't ignite his old fire into his own heart.
{I}
Water doused flames. Yet, it still burned brightly.
He was tall, not in the lanky way of bamboo tree stood still in windy weather; more like spine, strong yet you could bend him if you know how, hard and arrogant and cold as steel but when you became his inner core, his cord and lifeblood, he would protect you with all his might.
Ryoma wasn't tall, broad shouldered, and charming like her other suitors that the Weasley brothers and Draco were so found chasing them away.
He certainly wasn't a noble sort, but he was cunning enough that Narcissa let him spending weekend with them and he wasn't too kind-hearted either, yet he was pretty decent guy, even skilfully made Molly mothered him, though not too much.
[He let the Weasley matriarch to do so. When she'd saw him a little uncomfortable with Molly's fussing, their eyes met and she imagined hers mirrored him.]
He shone, not like the blaze that burning the fortress, unlike the way lightning shook the earth nor the softness glow of the moon.
He radiated extreme heat yet coolness balanced him, like the sunspot adorned the sun.
She knew he had given up something so precious and she'd never asked why.
{I}
The bone-chilling wind stormed the land, my fire didn't even waver.
Ryoma was never having a crush, let alone fall in love for someone. [Tennis was always the exception.]
He was never a coward though. A true Lion with a mind as sneaky as Snake, said Zabini.
When he still had his tennis, his heart never had a little corner for others, since Tennis was so selfish and he understood that since the beginning.
He had succumbed himself to an illness called love pretty fast and he was not afraid of falling.
For tennis had left him and the only anchor and consolation he got from God was this immortal companion with emerald eyes and steady presence.
{I}
"You are not a mother."
Her first sentence to his family was uttered with such certainty, struck the very essence of the only woman he'd called Mother.
Nanjirou looked away from his wife pleading gaze for he only had tennis, like his sons. Both that he always loved yet lost years ago.
He loved Rinko dearly; he had forgiven her when Ryoga ran away because that was partially his fault. Then Ryoma slipped away from him and tennis was the sole reason he didn't already yield into madness long ago.
They have killed my mother at the door of my room. She died and saved me.
She had answered with these words at the question Kevin asked her 'who was her mother' and 'her mother would be ashamed of her'.
"What would Rinko do if Ryoga and Ryoma die?"
He replied it with a long, poetic explanation of mother's sacrifices and how Rinko saved abused children like him and others while Ryoga was having fun and Ryoma's still moping about tennis; she cut him in the middle of his sentences.
"Yet, why she didn't do anything when her sons suffered from something worse than death?"
{I}
Henriette never had a mother.
Narcissa. Molly. Petunia. Lily.
Three of them carried flower names, yet they all failed to give her love, life and peace.
Petunia was never an aunt.
Lily was her mother; her death sentenced her only daughter into fate worse than death, both for her childhood and her spotlight in wizarding world.
"There was a time that I wanted it more than anything in the world," she whispered after her confrontation with Kevin, soft voice fleeting like fairy dust. "It's too late now."
He pulled her closer and they bathed at the moonless beach, the stars glowed bright like her name weaved with the golden thread in the Black family tapestry.
Anassa Henriette Serpens Potter-Black.
She was named like a serpent constellation, for her godfather was still a Black despite his rebellious nature.
Anassa was fit for a Queen; James Potter wanted her to become Queen.
Not the Princess, but the Queen, for the Princess shall wake for the true love kiss but the Queen shan't.
A simple kiss would never wake the Queen; the spell was too strong to be broken by something so mundane.
Ryoma was under a spell; his Queen bravely became a pickpocket for his raining heart.
He might be just a Prince but he'd promised himself he would shield his only flames from the foulest tempest for they only had each other.
{I}
The children were playing in the garden. Ryuuga had babbled about the new neighbour that had moved a few days ago and Ryuuichi insisted that they needed to welcome their new friends.
She hummed a tune and carrying glasses of milk and biscuits for them. Yumiko was at work as well as Ryoga and Nanjirou.
"You play tennis as well, Ryuuka-kun?"
Ryuuga would be so happy. The other children weren't as enthusiastic as them.
A soft answer from a younger boy reached her ears. She could detect his British accent.
"Aa. Father teaches us."
"Grandma!"
They ran and hugged her when she put the snacks into the table before dragged their new friend who was playing with Ryuuichi's rubik cube under the orange tree.
"Grandma, this is Ryuuka from London. He is in the same age as us. He has three sisters, you know. I mean three!"
Ryuuga only had one sibling, his twin brother and always wanted a sister. He loved Ryuuichi, but his brother was a cool one, he wished he had a sister to cuddle, to protect and to share his wicked plans.
"Hello." The child had bowed ninety degrees; his voice had a whisper quality when he greeted her, still in English.
"My name's Ryuuka Echizen-Potter-Black. Nice to meet you."
She was frozen in place while Ryuuga had shouted in joy.
"Hey! We have the same surnames! I mean the Echizen part! This is so cool! Ryuuichi! Hey, didn't you pay attention?"
Her other grandson's sharp gaze was so like Yumiko's little brother who glared at her when he knew the reason Ryoma left before Ryuuichi suddenly put the youngest child into a hug.
"Wow! Group hug! Let me in!"
The three of them embraced each other and Rinko could hear Ryuuichi firm tone even in the sudden gust of wind.
He was always the perceptive one.
Her husband and son and even her daughter in law had spoken the tales about Ryoma, their lost uncle and now the ever genius Ryuuichi had put two and two together since the mentioning about Ryuuka's last name.
"These are hugs from Grandpa, us, Mom, Dad and –"
Here she choked back her tears that threatened to fall, for her little boy had had his own children that she'd never know nor watched them grow like Ryoga's boys.
AN:
Yumiko : Fuji's older sister.
Suri Suri Masuri was Korean's Abracadabra. Suri meant pickpocket in Japanese.
A really long time since my last fic! Finally this blasted piece is done, I'm so relieved and happy. Please kindly leave a review for this author...