Chapter Three: Straight (or Not)
Disclaimer: Why don't you read the chapter before?
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Echizen Ryoma hadn't been back in Japan for ten years, and in these ten years, nothing much had changed. There were still the same markets, still the same shops, and still too many people. Well, at least, the only good thing about the no-change was that the vending machines by the sidewalk were still there.
Searching his pocket for coins, Ryoma chose his usual favorite drink and began sipping away when his cell phone rang.
"Yo, shonen," a gruff, (if not perverted) voice echoed cheerfully at the other end.
"…"
"You know its called proper etiquette to say 'I miss you so very much, father, or how are you, darling daddy? I haven't seen you for years and my heart bleeds from all the pain of wanting to see you,'" imitated an Echizen Nanjiroh in a high-pitched voice, followed by some cackling over his own joke.
He was greeted with silence.
"Hello?" his father yelled over the phone, "Eh, Ryoma, you there? What are you doing? I hope you're not making out with girls and forgetting your poor, old daddy."
Still no reply.
"Did I get the wrong number?" he asked, confused. "Because it's kind of hard to get the wrong number when its 111-1111, if you get what I mean."
There was no noise or sound, except for the background sounds.
"Man, whoever you are, you should at least have the decency to say hi. Sheesh, people these days."
Ryoma was in the midst of a dilemma. To hang up or not to hang up? That was the question. If he hanged up, it would seem rude, and anyhow, it was his father. But then, his head ached at the thought of dealing with an idiot like him; and since when did he care if he was being rude of not?
As Ryoma's hands were itching upwards to press the hang-up button, Nanjiroh suddenly said in a tone of wonder, "Oh, will you look at this? Headline from the Tokyo Daily: Echizen Ryoma Spotted in a Tokyo Nightclub Dallying with Female Strippers."
"WHAT!" Ryoma yelped. My god, he was so going to sue this Tokyo Daily.
Nanjiroh sniffed and cried, "My baby's all grown up. It seemed only yesterday when I was still wiping your tiny butt after going to the washroom."
"Oyaji…I'll tell ka-san where you hide your porn magazines."
"Ahahahaha, joking, joking. Can't you take a joke? Seriously, shonen, you need to get a sense of humor. Hey, let's make a deal, kiddo. If you don't tell your mother about those magazines, I'll lend some of them to you. They're very intriguing…and satisfying, kind of like the Chicken Soup for the Big Men's Soul."
Absolutely p-a-t-h-e-t-i-c.
"I'm not a pervert. What do you want?"
"Can't your father pop in to say hello? How disrespectful! We haven't talked for the longest time!"
Ryoma sighed and rubbed his temples. This was the price he had to pay for not trusting his instincts in the beginning.
"We only saw each other last week when you were coaching me for Wimbledon," he said dryly, chugging his Ponta at the same time.
"Oh? Right, I forgot. Teehee, blame my bad memory." A pause, "Oh, ew! My booger's stuck onto my clothes! RINKO, RINKO, WHERE ARE YOU! I NEED YOU TO GET THIS OFF ME!"
Fighting off the temptation of hanging up the phone, Ryoma asked impatiently, "What do you want, you stupid old man? I have a life, you know."
"Oi, oi, shonen, watch your mouth, is this the way to talk to your father? Now, come to the shrine tomorrow at five. I have some people for you to meet."
Ryoma frowned. "Who?"
"Oh, you'll see." And with that, Echizen Nanjiroh hanged up with a sly smile on his face. Boy, oh boy! His son was going to be in for a big surprise. How he loved surprises!
At the other side of the line, Echizen Ryoma's frown deepened. Somehow, his instinct told him he was in for some trouble.
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Trudging unwillingly up the steps to the shrine, Ryoma slid the door open. What he saw startled him: his father, whose face was flushed in a brilliant red color, was sitting cross-legged on the tatami mats by the dining table. He was happily downing cups of sake, while laughing his heart out at some poorly told joke that one of the three surrounding young girls had told.
Well, Ryoma's first reaction was to slide the shoji door close, and he was going to, except for the fact that his father had spotted him rather too early.
"Oi, shonen! Come in, come in!" Nanjiroh patted the empty tatami next to him, "We've been waiting for you."
The person in subject looked as if he had met Satan himself. Where was his mother? Where was Nanako? And why, of all the person in the world, did he have to suffer this kind of torture, and especially under his own father's hands?
Ryoma ignored Nanjiroh, and as he was about to turn around and walk out the door (for good, this time) he was pulled down by one of the three girls.
"Why, Ryoma-sama, it's an honor to meet you!" a blonde exclaimed. "Why, we heard so much about you! You know, about how you won four consecutive Jr. Championships since you were twelve, and how you defeated Senida when he was a third year, and you were only a first year at Semaku high."
Right. Just a few mistakes there, lady. First, he had won four consecutive Jr. Championships since he was eight, and he had defeated Senada (god, get the name right!) when he was a first year in Seigaku high.
"Oh yes," another one of them, this time a brunette, added enthusiastically, "It's so awesome when you do that cool serve of yours – um…what was the name? Well never mind, but like I said, it's so cool and fast!"
Talk about the lack of vocabulary.
The last girl, a redhead, just blushed and nodded.
Ryoma didn't pay any attention to them, instead, he was busy glaring at his happy-go-lucky father. "What the hell is all this about?"
"Ah, don't be like that! Here," at this, he pointed to the blonde, "She's Alisa-chan, and the one next to her, the brunette is Elisa-chan, the last one is Melisa-chan. Cute, aren't they?"
Was this some kind of sick joke?
"So Ryoma-sama," something-or-other-chan purred, "What have you been up to, disappearing and then reappearing here in Japan?"
He ignored her and instead, pick up the tea that was set in front of him by his nosy father. Counting to ten under his breath, he slammed the cup down onto the table, splattering the hot liquid on his head.
The second something-or-other-chan screamed and immediately rushed for some napkins, and was about to carefully wipe it out of the tennis star's hand, when he slapped it away. Instead, he focused his attention on his father.
"Oyaji, out now!"
Nanjiroh looked at his son, and saw the fury hidden beneath those amber cat-eyes. Shoot! He wasn't a boy any more, and that meant he couldn't torment him like he a kitten grown into a tiger. Running his hand into his hair, he tsked and walked out the shoji door, followed by Ryoma.
"What," Ryoma bit out through his teeth, "Was that?"
"Don't worry about them telling the media. They swore on they're mothers grave that they wouldn't tell."
"You didn't answer my question."
Nanjiroh chuckled in amusement. "Ah Ryoma, I just thought that you needed a little…push along here and there."
"Push along here and there for what?"
"Oh, you know, for this and that."
Glare.
Nanjiroh scratched his head in sheepishly. So maybe this wasn't the best way to greet his son after a sixteen-hour flight from America – that usually tended to leave people quite grumpy. Ah, but what can he say when tormenting his arrogant son was about the most amusing thing after tennis?
"Alright, alright," he sighed, "Your mother (and I) are quite worried that you won't marry…considering that arrogant attitude of yours. You probably think everyone is underneath you. You know, we do want to have grandchildren soon before we die."
Ryoma was still shooting him death glares. "So that makes it alright to do whatever it is you want me to do?"
"Hey, I'm your father. If I ask you to skinny-dip, you'll have to skinny-dip." Before Ryoma could retort, he continued, "Now, now, I just wanted to see you have a happy life. You've been getting unpredictable lately, and I just thought you needed some outlet."
Right, since when did his father care about his well-being?
"Oyaji, I already have a fiancée." Okay, that was lie, but so what? If it could get his father off his back, he would lie about the most ludicrous things.
There was a momentary brief silence before Nanjiroh spat out the sake in his mouth and started laughing, while clutching his stomach for support.
"You?!" he cried, "Ahahahaha, no way! Oh, that's funny, good one, Ryoma, never knew you had that kind of sense of humor. Ahahahaha!"
Ryoma glowered, "It's true."
"Right," he crossed his arms, and gave him a sly smile, "Who is it, kiddo? One of those Hollywood stars, Paris Hilton or something? Or is it some tennis player? Like Maria Sharapova? Hey, you know, Sharapova wouldn't be bad. Don't like her grunting much, but she's easy on the eyes."
Ryoma resisted the urge to sucker-punch the entertained expression on his face. How he wished he had brought his tennis racket – that way, he could pinpoint it as an accident if some fuzzy green ball landed right onto his features.
"I do have one."
"I'm so very sure. I think that all these time apart made you a bad liar. Do you want some lessons? I'm giving them for free."
"I do have one."
"Oh, geez, Ryoma! Its good that you're persistent, but being that persistent is bad for the heart, you know."
Another glare. "I do have one."
"Humph!" Nanjiorh stuck his nose in the air. "Prove it."
"If I show her to you by the end of the week, you'll leave me alone with your insipid matchmaking?"
"That is if you actually do have one." He paused, and the burst out laughing again, "Who in the right mind would have you?"
You have no idea, Ryoma thought bitterly. He would prove that he could get anyone he wanted. Just wait and see, oyaji.
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Storming out of the shrine, Ryoma walked down the street in deep thoughts, his hands in his pockets.
Damn, was he ever in deep trouble. First of all, he had said that he did have a fiancée. Second, he said that she was here, located in Tokyo. And last but not least, he said he would bring her to show to his stupid old man that indeed, someone would have him.
Now, it was very, very, very true that half of the female population would just love to have their hands on the tennis star. In fact, they would love it so much that he wouldn't have any of them.
In Ryoma's dictionary, the female species was either too loud, too stupid, or too clinging. They would be screaming at first, then they would start crying when one told them to shut up. But there were some shier ones; granted, they were a bit better and didn't burst his eardrums, but that was usually accompanied by clumsiness, foolishness, and stupidness, too.
Even though the cat-eyed man identified female creatures as the paragraph above, he still had his fair share of women. He never really needed to approach – they just came willingly like bees attracted to honey. It was fun playing around – just those little kisses passing around, corny words passing from one to another (although in Ryoma's case, the other side would've done all the talking).
Sleeping together was common, but the relationship (if it was ever a relationship to start with), it usually ended after that. They habitually got so clinging and emotional that Ryoma had to sometimes call the security guards to pry them off him. Really, he wondered if he was ever sexually harassed while in sleeping. It wouldn't be surprising if it proved to be true.
But they were just that to him: an emotional outlet and nothing else. He was –
His cell phone rang and Ryoma fought the urge to throw it in the garbage can. God, he was on a vacation here! Does no one ever take any notice?
"Hello?"
Great, it was Cordac.
"Ryoma, there's something you should know."
"Hnn…" He didn't particularly care.
"Have you read the latest Fashion article?"
"I don't read those nonsense."
"You know, you should get in a habit of reading those. You'll get an idea what the media thinks of you."
"Really? I had completely, zero idea," was the dry reply.
Cordac almost slammed his head on the wall. He just absolutely hate that sarcasm of his.
"Well, anyways," Cordac gritted, "Here's their latest article on you. The headline: 'Echizen Ryoma Straight? Ten Reasons and Opinions why he is not.' It's quite amusing, actually. They claimed that you haven't been spotted with female companionship for three years, which, mind you, they're actually correct."
Ryoma narrowed his eyes.
"They also interviewed some of your ex-girlfriends. Apparently, they say that you don't pay enough attention to them, and that you're constantly talking to other guys on your cellphone during dates."
Ryoma gritted his teeth.
"Oh, this is my personal favorite out of them all," said an amused Cordac, "It seems that Echizen Ryoma's disappearance has to do with him being in denial of his obvious homosexuality, and that he ran away to seek self-comfort and therapy for his very poor soul."
Ryoma tightened his fist.
"Of course, these are all blunderings, so don't take it too seriously, though it might damage some of your contracts. I suggest you do something about it."
Silence.
"Um…Ryoma, you there?"
The person in subject was currently under whirling thoughts.
He never cared about what other's opinion of him was, but really, this was going way too far.
Him, the great Echizen Ryoma, was pinpointed as not being straight? Seriously, if the media has nothing to talk about, there's always the suicide bombing that was happening in some faraway corner of the world, or there's Paris Hilton and one of her new plastic surgeries. But why, of all the things, did they have to pick him as the subject of the topic?
Plus they got it all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! He did have female companionship in the last three years – in fact, he had one just a month ago! Even though it wasn't out in public, that didn't mean he didn't have any! What? Did they have to see a free sex show before it would finally satisfy their little hearts?
Even if he did talk to guys on cellphone, so does the rest of the people in the world. In reality, Ryoma's cell phone conversation were mostly talks with Cordac…yeah, as if they would be together. Stupid.
Lastly, he was so not in denial. Are they blind? Or did they just have a brain the size of a pea?
It was enough with that whole female stripper thing, but this? Really, talk about the lack of imagination.
"Ryoma? Hello? RYOMA! You there?"
"What?" he bit out angrily.
"Alright, I know how you feel."
Right, as if. He wasn't the one pinpointed as gay.
"So, here's what I suggest. You have three months off, right? Well, after these three months, I suggest you scrap yourself some nice, young sapling – I think that would be particularly easy for you – and bring her to the next tournament prom."
"I don't have to explain myself to them."
"No, but you don't want them to think you're…different."
Shoot, he was right. So now he really had to find a stupid fiancée…just to prove to his stupid father and the stupid media that he was in fact, an ordinary person.
"Oh yeah, that reminds me…you have an endorsement to sign in about…" Cordac checked his wrist watch. "In about an hour."
Ryoma closed his eyes to keep a reign in his temper. "It's, my, vacation."
"Oh, but remember? You promised that you would sign any endorsement that I have for you."
Right, how could he forget.
As he strolled down the path while copying down the location, he turned a corner. His cat-eyes narrowed as he saw he back of a petite woman with two brown (and extremely long) pigtails stepped off the sidewalk, and onto the roads.
She didn't see the red light.
A car honked and was speeding itself at the woman, who seemed as startled as a deer caught in headlights while she remained froze, waiting for the impact.
It never came.
Instead, she was wrapped in a hard, compact body, both of them lying on the hard, cemented road.
Ryoma groaned in pain. Why, why, why did he always have to play the hero?
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A/N: So, a slightly longer chapter. I'm really, really glad that people seem to be enjoying it as much as I'm writing it. I didn't expect to get so many positive comments, really, as it was only a practice for me to think on my toes. But thanks so very much to you all! Love you all!
I'm sorry if I offended any of my readers about the homosexuality part. I am absolutely fine with it - in fact, I have a few friends who are. I find that they make the best of friends and the greatest listeners!
Right, one more thing. I'll try to update at least once every two weeks since schools starting soon (NOOOOO!) but if I can't, I'll try at least once every month!
Cheers
