Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis
Ice
Chapter 10
Ryoma leaned his face against his hand as he watched the second years running around the tennis courts, struggling to perfect their serves from his seat beside the window. Their practice brought back the memory of an earlier time. He was happy then, an emotion that seemed idealistic today. Even though he had to put up with the trouble of sneaking around, he was with him and that was enough.
The steady and monotonous voice of his English teacher soon faded into a background melody, lulling him into a state of calm and tranquility. When he had arrived, his teacher had asked for an explanation of his lateness not out of concern but more out of requirement. He had provided one which satisfied him and continued teaching.
Echizen observed with mild interest as the discontent for his profession and class increased as the days dragged on. If his job were not an obligation, he'd walk straight out the door without a backward glance.
They boy noticed as one of the tennis ball sprung out of bounce, flying toward a boy who, credit to his fast reflexes, caught the ball easily. The one who had hit it out bounce ran out hastily apologizing profusely on the way. The boy returned the ball and no damage was done. Ryoma smiled sardonically from afar, remembering of a moment so painfully similar to this one.
Kirihara sweltered in the oppressive heat, wearing a leather jacket nonetheless. Silently cursing his vain pride, he thought of a credible excuse as he motioned to his partner in front of him. Renji Yanagi lifted the screen of his motorcycle helmet, fixing him with his maddeningly blank gaze.
"What is it now, Kirihara-kun?" Every syllable of his detached voice left an uncomfortable feeling almost like the bad after taste one got from drinking coffee. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance at the Kun on the end of his name. He wasn't that much younger or less experienced.
"I'm not feeling well; it's hot and I think I may be coming down with something." Feigning sickness in his voice, he cracked open an eye to watch the other's reaction.
"I guess I can help you out with Sanada-san." Kirihara grinned and punched the air in triumph.
"Just don't make it a habit." Continued Renji, a rare, gently smile flashed across his face at the young boy's delighted reaction.
"Arigatou, Renji-san." Already lost in thoughts of what to do with his precious free time, Kirihara rode away, leaving a concerned Renji behind reminding him to be more careful.
Deciding to satisfy his thirst first at a nearby vendor machine, he leaned his motorbike against a bench, knowing no one will dare to touch it. He watched in amusement as the people around him stepped away whispering amongst them while pointing at him. Occasionally, they shot him reproachful glances which only concealed their fear. He shook his head, laughing at the pathetic behavior of humans. They were the same no matter where you went, forever judging and condemning what they don't know, don't understand.
Humans, to Kirihara, served for only one purpose, to play and toy around with. He loved his victims best when they could do nothing but watch their hopes and dreams being destroyed before their eyes. For that one second, the pain in their expression was priceless, beautiful almost. But after the same result, it really was getting old. Sometimes, he questions why he lives at all. There is no purpose in his life, nothing to hold on to. He wonders if death would bring anything worth treasuring which life never did.
"Abunai!" A sudden yell stopped his train of thoughts.
Wearing his typical smirk, he watched the tennis ball approach his face, almost grazing it until he abruptly bent backwards to catch it smoothly in his right hand. Bouncing the ball in his hand, he turned his head to the other.
"You're lucky it didn't hit me or else there would have been some unpleasant consequences." The one who had hit it was a boy just like him, only a few years younger.
Judging on first impressions, for Kirihara to call the boy small would have been an understatement. He had a lithe figure with fragile writs which looked like they would break if he crushed them in his grip. A great white hat hid half of his face from sight.
"Tch, only an idiot would get hit." His voice was childish filled with boyish arrogance and confidence. Looking up, the boy stared directly into his eyes with golden, cat-shaped ones.
Expecting him to stutter and cower away in fear like most that he faced, this was not the reaction he had expected to receive. Kirihara decided that things were more fun when they were unpredictable. The boy's daring attitude only provided Kirihara with something to entertain himself with. When he had finally broken and tired of him, he'd move on like usual.
"I've met many people in my life but you are a special case. What's your name?"
"Echizen Ryoma, though if you wish to ask for another's name, you should give yours first."(1)
The jibe was followed with a playful smile. Kirihara found that he rather liked it when the boy had a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes lit up, and the genuinely innocent expression on his face reminded him of the exact opposite of what he was.
"I'm Kirihara Akaya. Echizen Ryoma," He said rolling the name off his tongue. Clucking in disapproval he tried something else.
"Ryo would definitely suit you better." He laughed as Echizen wrinkled his nose in disgust at the pet name. Kirihara found himself becoming hopelessly consumed by the unidentifiable feeling the boy was evoking in him. He couldn't control the need within him to know and possess everything about this boy and shield him from the sight of the world.
Stepping close towards Ryoma, he tipped his chin towards him. Bending down he whispered into his ears,
"Never forget, my little Ryo that you only belong to me."
As if under a spell, Echizen found himself unable to do anything but nod dumbly, captivated by Kirihara for reasons even he can't understand. All rationality fled him as the last thing he was capable of remembering was drowning in the tainted crimson color of the other eyes which was so strangely addicting. He had always liked red.
The bell's sharp sound resounded through the classroom, signaling the conversation and laughter of the students to start up again. No one noticed the boy in the corner, holding his head in his hands as if trying painfully to forget the memories of his past. If anyone cared enough to see, they'd notice the way his fists tightened together as if in determination and the look in his eyes as he stalked out the door. If was of one that had made up his mind.
A/N:
(1) That line was said by Sasuke from Naruto.
So, how was that? It was my longest chapter yet. Yay! Much thanks to reviewers. You're the ones keeping me writing even when I feel like stopping. Things are certainly rolling though the answer is very elusive. The more I look at this, the more I think about the plot of Tokyo Babylon. Should I borrow the plot from it? Get back to me on that. Thanks for reading!