GREED
- an intense and selfish desire for something –
Everything Tezuka Kunimitsu did was selfless.
He went to Germany just so he would be in the best shape to help his teammates reach the Nationals. He perfected and mastered his manners to please his strict grand-father. He sacrificed the safety of his arm to teach Ryoma a lesson. He destroyed his arm playing Atobe for Seigaku's victory.
Tezuka was a sacrificial person. He did everything for the greater good. He also cared deeply for the approval of others. So when the team's resident baby Echizen Ryoma asked him to be his boyfriend, Tezuka froze.
His parents wouldn't approve.
His grandfather would be shattered.
The team dynamics would fumble.
Sakuno Ryuuzaki would spend her nights crying.
Their powerful mentor/student relationship would be destroyed.
No.
No.
It was absolutely against the greater good for Tezuka to accept Ryoma's request. Everything would become a mess. The team would be in hysterics. The awkwardness with his parents would skyrocket. He would have to break the trust of his grandfather, who expected the very best out of him; nothing less than perfection.
And in his grandfather's eyes, being gay was imperfection at its greatest.
"Buchou." Ryoma took a sip from his ponta. His eyes were wide and bright and gold. "Be my boyfriend?"
Tezuka stared down at him. His heart swelled up to his throat. "I can't."
Ryoma's expression crumbled. "What?"
"I can't." Tezuka shouldered his tennis bag. His eyes softened. "It's not… right."
The tennis rookie didn't move.
Tezuka turned around, and swallowed at the cold walls of the club room. "I'm only doing this because it's for the best."
"But-"
"Echizen." Tezuka closed his eyes. "Please let it go."
He got no response. A moment later, Ryoma slid past him, tossing his empty Ponta into the trash can. It clattered against the metal wire. He looked over his shoulder, and narrowed his eyes at Tezuka. "Sometimes things aren't right or wrong. They just are. Nothing else is supposed to matter." He gripped the strap of his tennis bag viciously. "It may not be right, buchou, but it's real. And it's true. And you're stupid for not believing in it."
Tezuka had never been called stupid before. He didn't reply. He just let his heavy heart sink to the bottom of his stomach.
"I'm sorry," he said in a bare whisper.
Ryoma just looked miffed. "Whatever, buchou." He practically sneered out the acknowledgment. Then in a whirl of storms and brilliance and snark, he waltzed out of the club room, door positively slamming behind him.
Tezuka sat down on the club bench slowly. He stared longingly at the empty space where Ryoma had been standing.
Then his head hits his knees. "I'm stupid," he told himself. "But it had to be done."
.
He was glad he sacrificed his longing for Ryoma.
Being selfish was not an admirable trait; neither was being greedy.
But choosing the greater good, the path with the least resistance, and the trail reaching the largest widths of happiness – that, Tezuka believed, was the mark of a truly wise man. Of course, that didn't make it any easier. He still watched Ryoma – took in his fire and laughter and passion – and let his heart ache.
He let his heart ache and cry and tear.
But Tezuka held himself together.
It was wrong to be greedy. It was wrong to be selfish.
He was doing this for Ryoma. He was doing it for the team. He was doing it for his family who put a roof over his head and loved him even with his greatest flaws.
He was doing the right thing-
Warm breath ghosted over the curve of his ear. "Saa… Echizen hasn't been himself lately."
Tezuka jerked.
Fuji just smiled. "Everything okay?" His eyes were too blue and too insufferable. He knew everything.
"I… we just had a little conflict. That's all." He watched Ryoma do a diving volley.
Fuji's smile sharpened. There was sudden challenge in his face, a fire burning from the core of his stomach into the heat of his eyes. "You missed your chance, Tezuka."
"Hm?" Tezuka ignored the sudden outbreak of cold sweat on his palms.
"You let him get away."
For a moment, Tezuka couldn't comprehend the statement. Then Fuji pressed a kiss to his cheek; warm, and dainty.
"And now he's mine."
.
And now he's mine.
The words choked him. They snarled at him. They twisted him until he turned to black ash and withered lungs. Tezuka liked to think he was a strong person. But right now he felt like the strain of the world was on his shoulders, and his mental strength was crackling under the pressure. Because if there was one person that could get on Tezuka's soft side, it was Ryoma. And if there was one person that could hit every nerve in his body – slicing them into little, torn shreds – it was Fuji Syusuke.
Fuji Syusuke.
And now he's mine.
Tezuka wanted nothing more than to run to Ryoma and tell him that he changed his mind. He wanted to hold and kiss and play tennis with Seigaku's brightest star. But even with Fuji's threat, he told himself to look at the bigger picture. He reminded himself that it was just middle school. Relationships were worthless, and certainly not worth risking his family for.
Relationships weren't worth throwing the team dynamics off. Relationships weren't worth being selfish.
You can have him, Fuji. Tezuka stood up, and walked out of the club room. He ignored Ryoma's glare and Fuji's victorious grin.
Tezuka was certain that there were some battles in life that were worth fighting for. He was even more certain that there were some battles in life better left forgotten.
.
Ten months later, Tezuka finds Fuji and Ryoma kissing in the showers.
He stops short. His breath leaves his lungs.
"Oh… buchou." Ryoma has the decency to blush. Fuji's eyes are narrow slits, and satisfaction bleeds from his pores.
"I – Sorry – " Tezuka's world is spinning. He fumbles out of the doorway with his heart hurtling against his ribcage and his knees trembling to support his weight. Only when he reaches a good mile from the club room does he stop running. He breathes painfully to catch his breath. Because he never knew letting go, truly letting go, would hurt so bad. He had no idea how painfully it would crush him; how the image of Fuji and Ryoma would burn into his skull and give him nightmares for nights straight, or how regret would simmer in his stomach every single morning and every single evening after that incident. He had no idea that life would feel like he was drowning underwater, losing air through his lungs until blackness fell through him. He had no idea that losing someone he cared about to someone else he cared about could claw at him for days on end, sending sharp pain and scars through his adolescent body.
He had no idea.
He had just wanted to do the right thing.
Tezuka goes into his room. He closes his door, and puts his face into his pillow. And then with nothing but his own pride to lose, Tezuka allows himself to cry.
.
Five months later, and he's numb to the pain. Numb and empty.
He corners Fuji after a long practice match.
"Yes?" Fuji's smile is wide and pleasant.
Tezuka just stares. He stares long and hard and tries to understand.
"Why?" He finally asks. Why would you do that to me? Why would you disregard our friendship and guiltlessly take a person you knew I cared about? Why would you ignore the fact that this will create distance between us? Didn't you think about how this would hurt me? How are you okay with being selfish and ignorant of another person's feelings?
Fuji's eyes slit open. They're too blue, and Tezuka's head is spinning.
Finally, he spits out the words that perhaps Tezuka knew all along:
"I don't know. Maybe I'm just greedy."
Then he saunters off to where Ryoma is, and kisses the boy long and hard and deep.
And suddenly, much too late, Tezuka realizes that maybe that's not such a bad thing to be.