Title: Implications of Silence

Author: runningondreams

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Prince of Tennis characters, storyline, or artwork, or anything else. I just bought a few manga and humbly requested entrance into their world.

Type: one-shot.

Warnings: Slight slashy undertones. My odd sentence structure.

Sometimes, he wondered.

There was never any real evidence. He'd known both of them for nearly six years, had observed them in peace and stress and pain and excitement. They weren't always friendly, didn't always agree, despite appearances.

But they never fought. There was a moment of animosity or opposition-

Gone.

But then, it was rare for either of them to fight with anyone. They found a problem, fixed it, and never mentioned it again. Ever. The moment was erased as if it had never happened.

There were never any private jokes, nothing the others couldn't relate to. No secret smiles, no timely glances. They never touched accidentally, never made a point of knowing where the other was. They'd both dated, casually, meeting ecstatic girls for movies or lunch. Always light relationships, easy. None of it ever serious enough to take priority over tennis. And every time another girl gave up, he thought again-

I wonder….

There were the silences that only seemed to extend from one to the other. Comfortable. Both of them waiting, both of them watching. Both just slightly out of reach. They retreated into another world in those times, where speech was just noise.

There were the ranking matches, where passion captured even these normally stoic individuals. The crowds didn't matter. The score was meaningless. He'd seen them become part of the game, time measured by the thock of ball on concrete, the slight twang of the rackets. They moved together then. Give and take. Wait and flow.

And he thought-

Perfect…

But then they would play the tournaments, each to his own, and he would doubt again. Because the doubles players were so in sync, so attuned to each other. And in that friendship there were the private jokes and the accidental touches and the constant spatial awareness. And it just seemed like such an obvious conclusion. Opposites attract.

But then it would be back to the every day, when the dynamics changed, and they returned to waiting.

In their last year at Seigaku, he'd passed it off as pressures of the job. Captain and Vice-captain would have to work closely together, would spend most of their time together outside of school even without friendship. But still, he had seen the spark. The idea that there was something more there burrowed into his mind and took root, clinging. In high school his certainty had faded as classes, clubs, and work separated them. After two years, he'd forgotten that completeness.

Then he'd seen them at the street courts, practicing. Teaching younger players the basics. And he remembered.

Echizen didn't see it. The young prodigy had never paid attention to team dynamics beyond the game itself. And he'd been shipped between America and Japan so often in the last few years that he barely kept in touch.

Momoshiro brushed it off, laughing. Buchou would always be buchou to his eyes. They were both too serious for his tastes; they'd just cancel each other out, he insisted.

Kaido thought the whole idea ridiculous and refused to even consider it.

Inui had pulled out his old data notebooks, untouched for nearly three years, only to declare 'inconclusive calculations.'

Kikumaru only smiled, teasing him for reading so far into the situation.

And in a way, they were right. He had no proof, only a faint lingering sense of instinct.

It was the way no one went near them when they stood together. The way no one acknowledged that they left together more often than not.

He'd tried to interrupt them; he'd wanted to invite them both to a club dinner later in the week. Intellectually he knew both boys would recognize his presence, would probably welcome his company with respective smile and nod. He knew they didn't intentionally shut anyone out, least of all himself. But still, he'd stopped before it became obvious that he was approaching them. He'd tried again, that same day, only to find himself cheerfully veering off to find a water bottle. It was as if their closeness was sacred and precious. The thought of interrupting chafed at his mind.

Even Kikumaru, the most sympathetic to his musings, had laughed at such a description.

There were facts.

Tezuka Kunimitsu was reserved, serious, and self-contained.

But sometimes, he smiled.

Oishi Shuichiro was generous, open, and affectionate.

But sometimes, he waited.

And Fuji Shuusuke watched. And wondered.

Owari