Logic
Standard Disclaimers Apply.
A/N: Uwaaaah! Chapter Four already! Thanks for sticking with me this far! I hope this chapter will be as much fun for as you as the first few were. This chapter title was inspired by a poem by Gwendolyn Brooks; it's probably pretty well known. Look for it on the Internet, you can be sure to find it there. Feedback surprised me. It seemed like a flood, even though it was just two people. XD
This chapter is supposed to deal with part of the aftermath but I really don't know how these two blockheads (Tezuka and Ryoma) would react in this situation. O o;;; More questions for the future, I suppose.
Interesting how Ryoma is really the only character in the whole series that is commonly referred to by his first name. Maybe because he's American, or because he's the 'main' character….? But a lot of people don't like him at all, so…I dunno.
I hope everyone gets the point I was trying to reach in this chapter with the long confusing rant on how the Pinnacle changed Ryoma's view on tennis, and the way he views his opponents. XD It's sort of hard to write. Admittedly, this present tense third person view kind of writing drives me absolutely nuts and drives me up a wall in confusion, but I feel that that sort of writing fits the atmosphere of the fic better. I also think it's a little mechanical. If any of you want me to switch to the kind of the third person writing that everybody else uses, drop me a line. I want to know what you think on this writing style.
Anyways, you know the drill. Questions, comments, or suggestions on anything? Email, PM and review. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!
We Real Cool
Monday morning practice descends like a cloud on a mountain. Students are still dreamy and are still adjusting to the renewed grinding of the cogs that are school life. Many of the non-regular tennis club members lag behind in the laps assigned this morning while the regulars rush ahead, fueled by the persuasion of Inui Juice. Ryoma indulges himself on this morning and doesn't bother pulling his usual trick with the assistance of his Kawamura-senpai, and instead concentrates on every footfall. It's surprisingly easy, in this way, to stop glancing at his Buchou every fifteen seconds.
Even though he's already confessed and had a day to get over it, seeing his Buchou again in school doesn't seem to be any easier. In fact, it gets harder. Now that Echizen has noticed his feelings, he has also begun to notice his Buchou. The way sweat trails a fine line down Buchou's jaw as he hits balls with Inui, and the hair that falls back from his face as he takes a gulp of water entrances him, and he isn't even sure whether or not his staring is too blatant, but he hopes that nobody notices. Ryoma's own tennis play actually gets more intense as he flings himself into one of the only things in his life that has ever meant something to him, and he has never before appreciated the release and the joy that tennis gives him as much as he has on this day.
Since awakening the Pinnacle of Perfection, tennis has become something more. Ryoma finds himself even more intrigued with the sport than before. It's not just about beating his father or Buchou anymore, it's the way the ball hits the floor with just the right amount of spin, the way the tennis ball bounces off his racket and rockets forward, and it's also the way his opponent responds. Logically he realizes that maybe he should be targeting Fuji-senpai now, because as Ryuuzaki-sensei mentioned in Fuji-senpai's match with Kirihara Akaya of Rikkaidai, Fuji-senpai has in fact already surpassed Buchou. But if it's one thing that the Pinnacle has taught him, it's that the opponent makes the game.
Tennis is a game that relies on retaliation, as is any other team sport. Your opponent is your fellow artist, but the way he responds every time will be different. He always has the choice to evolve, to further himself, and there is a level of unpredictability to tennis matches as the players improve in bursts and challenge each other again. However, physical brilliance on its own cannot make a masterful game. Tennis is an art and like all other arts, tennis needs emotion. A brilliant tennis game can only exist when riding on the emotions of its artists, the drive, the ambition, the willingness to put a step forward, and maybe even out-stride oneself.
Why do they play tennis? Why do they succeed? What makes them do what they do? Tennis is all about that. It's part of the reason why the match between the Monkey King and Buchou is still considered such a hallmark match—Tezuka going forward for the sake of his team, riding all his hopes of going to the Nationals with each stroke of an swollen arm, and the Monkey King his arrogant self, wanting to best the best, to move forward, ever on up. The drive, the purpose is there, the moves are there, and the players are there. It is only a question of whether or not one can elevate oneself to that level.
A person with that potential cannot get any further than just, 'a great tennis match.' Their opponent might be greater, and in that case the opponent is just another stepping stone. The real opponent is one who will match you stroke for stroke, feeling for feeling, and he will be the one you will have a brilliant match with.
That's why Ryoma no longer considers Fuji-senpai a suitable substitute. Fuji-senpai has begun to understand, briefly, with the match with Shiraishi, but Fuji-senpai is still not in the right mindset. Fuji-senpai will not treat the challenge seriously; he will play on the court and only get serious when he decides that he needs to. But Buchou is the one who opened the way; there would have been no Pinnacle of Perfection had he never come to Seigaku. Buchou is one who understands, one who he can play any game with, a light rally, a serious match, a light hearted warm-up. It's because the feelings between them are always there, which makes every match with Buchou something for Ryoma to look forward to.
Or so he thought. He's not too sure of that anymore.
--/
Tezuka is nervous. He doesn't show it, doesn't mention anything, and doesn't think that Inui's noticed, but he still feels pretty paranoid about other people knowing. Every so often he can feel Echizen's stare boring into him and he's pretty sure he'll collapse from nerves and paranoia if he has to deal with this for the whole month, because every time he turns around, Echizen isn't looking at him at all.
Knowing that he has become Echizen's object of affection really makes him feel like what a teenage girl might feel in the view of school society. He feels ridiculously self-conscious even though he knows that none of his teammates will judge him on how he looks and no matter what he will always be their captain. But Echizen has always been different. Even in the beginning, especially after that match on the Haruno University clay courts, Echizen has held him in the highest regard, using him as a benchmark to move ever further, and seeing him as a person deserving of respect and admiration. That doesn't seem to have changed, even with Fuji's steady advancement.
He wonders what Echizen sees in him. He's nothing special aside from his tennis, but Echizen wouldn't like him just because of his tennis, would he? Exemplary grades are nothing to be impressed about; this is Japan and every other school has its own straight A student council president. Tezuka doesn't see anything particular about himself that would make him stand out to Echizen…or to Fuji for that matter.
Once again he only has Echizen to thank for throwing him for a loop. He hasn't thought about his feelings toward Fuji in almost half a year, and they'd only manifested themselves in a dull, throbbing ache that would bother him once in a while. But now, Fuji is on the mind all day, all night, every hour, every second. He doesn't like it at all, this unpredictable feeling. It's something he can't control and it's something that he wishes would just go away. He doesn't have to deal with this, he shouldn't have to, and he doesn't want to. But if he doesn't think of Fuji, he starts to think of Echizen and there is no lesser of the two evils because they're both equally annoying and bothersome and the thought of one of them makes his heart race and the thought of the other makes his head throb and makes him sweat.
It is strange how he has always equated Echizen, in a way, with the future. Pillar, hashira, die Säule support and foundation and Echizen, steadying the boat and propelling them forward with each steady stroke of his racket. Never once has the freshman complained about Tezuka's expectations of him, merely taking on the burden and letting it sit comfortably on his shoulders. Tezuka is proud of him, thankful to him, and at the same time, he feels a little indebted to him.
And what is so bad about Echizen? What is there for him to say no to? He's not bad looking, and there is only a three year gap, regardless of Tezuka's weak argument against Echizen yesterday. They're both underage anyway, so it doesn't make much of a difference. Though Echizen's attitude is a little hard to bear at times, he really isn't all that bad. Even walking just side by side, the silences shared between him and Echizen have never been uncomfortable, rather it is the kind of atmosphere that is produced when one walks into a café, only to come upon an old friend and strike up conversation. Tezuka doesn't hate him or dislike him, but on the other hand Tezuka can't use the classic 'we're only friends' excuse, because really, they aren't actually friends.
Somehow the thought is sobering. For a mentor and a pupil they are both incredibly distant from each other, and Echizen has raised an ocean between himself and all the other people in the world. It must be horribly lonely to be on that gray rock in the middle of the sea all by himself. And Tezuka thinks that it's a shame; if they can connect so well in tennis, there's no reason why they shouldn't be able to connect in real life too. There is the potential for friendship there, and really he and Echizen get along rather well for two quiet, serious individuals. It wouldn't be a bad experience, as Tezuka doesn't have any friends other than Oishi, and on some part Inui and Fuji…..but Fuji doesn't really count as a friend.
It's frustrating. He thinks he knows himself, but then the world just has to flip upside-down, and it turns out that he doesn't know anything at all.
--/
It's so cute.
It has been a month since the end of summer vacation. The first week, he'd dismissed what had been going on, the second week he started to notice a little, the third week he'd actually begun to observe and the fourth week, he just began watch with quite a lot of amusement.
In the beginning, in the first week, Fuji dismisses it. It's trivial; it's probably just coincidence.
In the second week, he notices, little flashes, little peek-a-boos, hidden quickly in shy fervor and coy nervousness. The third week, Fuji begins to observe and analyze, and in the fourth week, he just sits back and enjoys the product of his labor.
It has been a month since the end of summer vacation, but Echizen Ryoma in love is still one of the cutest things that Fuji Syuusuke has ever seen.
He can't help but stifle a giggle as he catches another one of Echizen's long, drawn out stares at Tezuka, and smiles a little wider when Echizen backs off to a corner, slaps himself lightly in blushing cheeks and tries to hide near the bleachers. Tezuka and Echizen have always been at the center of what Fuji considers to be one of the more interesting core relationships present in the Seigaku team, and he thinks rather fondly that their little Echizen is getting all grown up.
Of course, he is exaggerating. Echizen is still only twelve, and will be for quite some time. None of the Seigaku members actually know when his birthday is—Echizen never speaks a single word about his special day and even Inui has no idea. It is easy to forget, since Echizen is always so serious.
They will look good together; Fuji knows this. One tall, broad-shouldered and made of smooth lines of lean muscle and moderately pale skin, dark brown hair and lighter chocolate eyes, and another small and petite, hidden power and strength coiled beneath tan skin in the sunlight, a quiet nighttime expression of feeling resting peacefully under paler colors in the absence of any light at all.
A quiet couple. Quiet, but content, living easy days, happy nights, a good, satisfying life.
Tezuka needs something to call his own. He has been giving away parts of himself for too long, and Fuji is afraid that one day all that will be left is a skeleton. Sometimes Echizen gives something back, gives a little drive by playing a match, exchanges a little of his company for a little of his Buchou's time when they walk to the train station together, offers up Tezuka's dream of winning National's on the golden platter in the most beautiful turnover Fuji has ever seen, and gives his medal to Tezuka afterward because he thinks it only natural to do so.
"It all started with you, Buchou. So you should have this…it's always been yours anyway, hasn't it?"
A concealed gratitude hanging on a golden medallion, two smooth, glinting badges of honor and pride and the glee of having accomplished a long-time dream. Two names. Moving ever forward, Tezuka Kunimitsu.
He still remembers what Tezuka had told him spontaneously, in the hallway, during second year.
"Fuji, I like you."
Fuji remembers barely able to respond in his giddiness, passing back a quick, "I like you too," before spinning around and trying to squash down the large, uncharacteristic grin that had mysteriously begun to creep up the sides of his face.
Fuji still likes Tezuka. Tezuka is an invaluable friend, and Fuji wants the best for him.
It's love.
The flash of gold from under a cap brim, and the warmth that comes from blushing cheeks tells Fuji that it won't be too hard to find a willing victim.