Crumbling

Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis.

Author's Notes: For those of you wondering if there will be any more…um…abuse to Ryoma, considering that that was the main plot of the fic, there will be a climax coming soon. GAAH, I'm sorry for the long wait. At least – at least it's another 3000 word chapter, right? Haha, I told you no more 1000 word chapters are going to come! Although I did update faster before…but my main reason was school. Midterms are coming soon and everything is hellish. So, yeah, finally got time to update. Please feel free to drop a review! I work really hard on these chapters.

Warnings: Weekly-ish updates. OOC big time on Rinko.

After a long afternoon practicing tennis, Tezuka dismissed everyone to head on home. The regulars all moaned and groaned as they wobbled past him, complains about 'I can't feel my legs' and 'buchou was really harsh today' flittered around as they disappeared around the bend. The captain himself admitted he had been a little rough today; commanding laps like there was no tomorrow – maybe the worry and stress about their youngest kohai was taking toll on him even though he hadn't realized it.

"Ryoma, do you need me to walk you home?" the captain offered as he watched Ryoma silently stand up and sling his tennis bag over his shoulder.

"I'm okay. You've never walked me home before, anyway. Why the sudden question?"

Gold eyes bore into brown ones, challenging. Tezuka immediately realized that Ryoma didn't want to be babied, or pitied – he wanted everything to resume normally.

"Just asking." Tezuka replied briskly. "Remember, we're meeting at my house at six. Remind your father, okay?"

Ryoma nodded in agreement. As he turned around to leave the courts, he felt a strong hand ruffle his hair and pull him into a headlock. Instinctively, Ryoma flinched and pulled away, stumbling backwards. Momoshiro stared at him with wide eyes.

"I was just-" Momoshiro began in explanation.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, I don't…" Ryoma didn't know what he was saying. He hadn't meant to flinch at his friend's touch. He took a deep breath. He didn't want his mother's abuse to have this effect on him – he knew how many children who were abused ended up being scared and weak of everything.

Take a deep breath. You will NOT flinch over people touching you. You. Will. Not.

After drilling this into his brain, Ryoma casually asked, "What's up, Momo-senpai?"

Momoshiro still seemed a little baffled at the way Ryoma had reacted, but the boy seemed fine now – so…there was nothing to worry about, right? "I was just wondering, you wanna go for burgers again? We didn't go yesterday either."

Ryoma shook his head. "Sorry, but I have…" he glanced at Tezuka before looking at Momoshiro again. "I'm busy. Oyaji wants me home early."

Momoshiro looked disappointed. "Fine. I'll see you later…I guess."

"Bye, Momo-senpai."

The moment Momoshiro disappeared out of the courts; Ryoma glanced back up at Tezuka. They both stared at each other. Everybody else had already left the courts and only the two of them remained. Ryoma was the first to look away, shuffling his feet. "Bye…buchou. I'll see you tonight, I guess."

Tezuka nodded.

He watched as Ryoma turned around and started to walk away, confidence in his steps even after everything he had been through. The air was breezy and blew his mop of black hair around and Tezuka could see the contractions of his muscles as he took each step. The older boy's heart pounded furiously in his chest and before he could stop himself, he called out:

"Ryoma, wait!"

Ryoma stopped and looked over his shoulder. Tezuka strode over to him in three quick strides and swiftly turned him around. They locked eyes.

"What?" Ryoma asked, tilting his chin up, fire in his eyes.

"I just…" the captain, for once, seemed to be at a loss of words. There was a moment of silence.

"You're strong." He finally said. "Remember that, okay?"

The slender figure nodded, confused. "I – I know."

There was an awkward pause.

"Well, bye buchou."

Tezuka didn't reply as Ryoma hurriedly disappeared out of the courts, tennis bag flopping from side to side along with him.

When Ryoma got home, he immediately scanned the room for his mother. She would normally be at work at this time, but he just wanted to be sure. He didn't see her. He did, however, see Nanako-san at the kitchen table, books sprawled out as she studied for an exam.

Nanako smiled. "Ryoma, how was your day?"

"Fine."

The reply was curt and it clearly voiced that he didn't want any questions. Nanako still looked a little worried about Ryoma but she knew he wanted everyone to back off so she didn't say anything. She clicked her pen open and started to continue writing her essay, much to his relief.

Ryoma dropped his backpack onto the ground and looked around. "Where's oyaji-"

"Ah, seishounen! You're home." Nanjiroh came barrelling into the living room, a smirk on his lips. A rolled up magazine fitted his right fist. "So, how was school? Did any one question your bruises? Did you tell them you got gang-beat?"

A long glare. "If you didn't make me go to school in the first plac-"

"School is necessary." Nanjiroh said, a twinkle in his eye. "Anyway, we're meeting with your little tennis friends at six, so you better eat and get showered."

"What are you, my mother?" Ryoma drawled.

Nanjiroh blinked. "No, I'm your father."

Rolling his eyes, Ryoma climbed up the stairwell and into his bedroom. After taking a quick shower and changing into fresh clothes, he went back downstairs just in time to smell something delicious cooking in the kitchen. Following his nose, he strode right in.

"Ah, what's for dinne-" Ryoma opened and eye and his words froze mid-sentence. He swallowed and took a step backwards.

Rinko stood at the stove with her apron on, mitted gloves covering her hands. Her hair was tied in ponytail that dragged down like limp spaghetti and her shoulders hunched over like she could barely support herself. Kaa-san looks really tired… the boy thought. He couldn't help but feel scared, sorry, and angry at his mother. Scared for the sake of his life, sorry because she was obviously pushing herself to exhaustion, and angry because mothers weren't supposed to go around beating up their sons.

Before he could react, however, he realized Nanako was helping Rinko at the sink. He sighed in relief and slid into an empty chair.

"Ryoma-san." Nanako smiled cheerfully. Rinko tensed at the name but didn't turn around.

Ryoma nodded to his cousin and stared at his empty plate. Even though Nanako was there, he still felt anxious and gripped the end of the chair tightly. Meanwhile, Rinko tried to control herself from beating up Ryoma right then and there in front of Nanako. She hated how everybody acted like he was a god or something – everyone. Nanjiroh always paid more attention to him than he ever did to her, Nanako seemed to light up whenever Ryoma came home from school, his tennis teammates obviously adored him, heck, even Karupin liked him the most.

Still in her thoughts, Rinko nearly slammed the plate in front of Ryoma. The boy jumped slightly in surprise.

"Dinner." She said. Her teeth shone like ice. "Enjoy, Ryoma."

For a moment, Ryoma felt cold all over. Rinko's tone was so wild and harsh, and her eyes held nothing but hate in them. It was so hard. Ryoma still found it difficult to adjust to everything that was happening – things had spun out of control so quickly, and now it felt like there would never be another day where he could just walk to the tennis courts to meet his senpai-tachi, without a care in the world, not a single worry about what was going to happen when he got home that night.

Ryoma took a bite out of his food. At least I have buchou. He's so nice to me lately. Probably 'cause of what happened, but still – I've never felt closer to him then I do now. Even on the tennis courts, when we're focused on nothing but each other and the passing of the ball smacking between us, he never looks at me with the same eyes as he does now.

Before, it was always respect and pride.

But now there was something different in his eyes. He looked at me with…dare I say love? Not attraction or anything, just care and pure love.

But maybe I'm judging things wrong.

After all…I thought my mother loved me too…

Ryoma was suddenly aware that Nanako had left the kitchen. Immediately, a strong fear burned in his lungs. Rinko's eyes twinkled now – not the kind of twinkle his father had when he was proud of Ryoma's tennis improvement, and definitely not the kind of twinkle Momoshiro's violet eyes perpetually held – a twinkle of cruel delight.

It almost reminded him of Fuji, but Fuji was different. Fuji didn't hurt people.

"Ryoma, you've barely ate." Rinko said, voice calm. It was the kind of calm that made Ryoma's stomach churn in anxious anticipation of something he dreaded. Her fingers slid through her hair slowly, but she kept her eyes on Ryoma's the entire time, her lips curled the slightest. "Your food will get cold if you don't hurry."

Ryoma felt hot all of a sudden. Like he was going to pass out. What was this overwhelming fear that had taken over him? Since when had he gotten so scared?

Before he could say a word, Rinko pressed her palm against the table in an angry manner. "Oh, wait, don't tell me, you don't like it, right?"

He started to speak on instinct. "No, I do like it-"

"Ungrateful." The simple word was packed with so much emotion. Ryoma's eyes flickered with fear and he felt dizzy. His mother's eyes looked like they had the night before, the moment before she had pushed him against the door and hurt him sixty times. Each swing, each punch, each spiteful word that had came out of her mouth that night suddenly felt so real and present. He started to shake, not subtly anymore, but hard.

The memory of the hot pain that seared his flesh overtook his mind. The feeling had been awful, so awful – just pain after pain after pain, until his body had shut down.

Rinko's voice cut like a knife. "That's what you've always been, you know. A completely ungrateful stupid boy who doesn't deserve to live. I should hurt you more, just like yesterday night. As a punishment. I just want you to die from my hands-"

Ryoma tried to talk, his voice weak. "No – I – please, just stop-"

He couldn't finish his words, because right then, at that moment, he threw up all over the kitchen table.

Nanako walked back into the kitchen and the glass she was holding crashed to the ground. She didn't even look down at the pieces shattered on the floor. Ryoma sat on his chair, trembling, vomit dripping off the table. Rinko just twisted the napkin in her hand and stared at him with emotionless eyes.

What are you doing? Your son just threw up and you're just standing there like nothing happened…Nanako felt a sudden rush of anger, but she didn't dare say any of the things she was thinking. Rinko was an elder and it would have been very disrespectful to accuse her like that.

"Ryoma-san," Nanako said in the most soothing tone she could. She quickly went beside the boy and turned him around. She was shocked to feel how hot he was, and how much he was shaking, but even more shocked to see his eyes wet with tears that had yet to fall. "Oh, poor Ryoma-san…it's okay. It was just an accident anyway. You must be feeling sick."

Ryoma could barely comprehend what his cousin was saying. Sick, he thought, sick with fear.

"It's okay." Nanko started to get up, saying she would get a glass of water for him, but Ryoma clutched her arm tightly. He couldn't let her leave, not even for a second. Not with Rinko there, her piercing eyes a little nervous now but still horribly cold. "Stay," Ryoma whispered. Nanako felt like her heart was going to break into pieces – what had happened to Ryoma?

She couldn't handle this right now. At the top of her lungs, she yelled, "Uncle, get down here!"

Ryoma's mind spun and he barely heard Nanjiroh's footsteps. Random thoughts flashed through his brain, some making him twist, others letting him breathe.

How can I do that though? He's our kohai. It's our job to protect him if someone's harming him.

If they ask, tell them it's none of their business.

No, she won't stop. You're just too innocent to see that.

Who hurt our baby boy?

Ryoma started to throw up again. Everything felt like fear.

You're…strong.

The blur in front of him transformed for a moment, but it quickly crashed down.

…I just want you to die from my hands…

"Ryoma, Ryoma, calm down…you're okay…" Nanjiroh was freaking out. Ryoma – his little boy was shaking and throwing up and on the verge of hyperventilating. He tried his best to speak and get through to him but the kid seemed to be in a different world. Nanako stood clueless, tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

The worst part was Rinko – she didn't even seem to care. Nanjiroh wanted to shake her and knock some sense into her, but he knew he had to focus on Ryoma right now. "Look, Ryoma, you're just sick. Did you eat something funny at school? You're burning up. Maybe you've got a fever."

You don't understand, Ryoma thought. I'm not sick. I don't have a fever. I'm scared.

"Ryoma…kiddo…" Nanjiroh's voice sounded faraway. Ryoma took a long gulp of air and closed his eyes. His head pounded like an axe was beating against it. He kept thinking it would be over - the fear, the pain, the hurt. Everything time, he thought it was the last time he would be upset. At Tezuka's bed, crying – he thought that would be it. Up on the roof, too. But it felt like it would never end anymore. When everything had first happened, so quickly, so fast, he hadn't expected it to have this effect on him.

He was Ryoma – strong, unbreakable.

When he saw news casts about kids being abused, he had obviously felt bad, but he'd always thought that they should have been stronger. If they'd just told someone right away, and maybe tried to stand up for themselves instead of acting so weak, they wouldn't be in that situation. It's hard, Ryoma pressed his face against his father's shoulder, his heartbeat starting to slow down. When you're actually in that position….

Don't think.

Ryoma felt his father pull him into an embrace.

Just don't think about anything.

Nanako handed him a glass of water. He took a sip with much reluctance.

Think. Think about…

…..You're strong.

Maybe it was a good think Tezuka had said that before he left.

You're strong.

You're strong.

You're strong.

…

Remember that…okay?

And with that thought echoeing through his head, he let himself be lulled to sleep.

I will.

Nanjiroh really didn't want to leave his son home. He stared at Ryoma's sleeping figure and bit his lip, considering if he should cancel meeting with Fuji and Tezuka. But no – that was one thing he just couldn't do at this point. Everything was going too far. Ryoma was in too much pain, and Nanjiroh wanted to know exactly what was causing the pain.

Even though he was almost sure it was Rinko, he still couldn't make himself accuse her unjustly. He knew he was blinded from the time years back when he had fallen in love with the beautiful, smiling girl, and it was hard to break out from that.

I'll find out today. Finally.

Nanjiroh was comforted by the fact that Nanako would be home. As long as someone was in the house, Rinko wouldn't dare hurt Ryoma. If it was Rinko, anyway. With this little sense of assurance, Nanjiroh bent down and shook Ryoma's shoulders. It took a moment for the boy to open his eyes and groggily manage to adjust to the light.

"Oyaji?" he asked.

"Don't worry kid, you can go back to sleep in a minute. Just tellin' you I'll be off your friend's house so we can…discuss…the issues at hand."

"I…need to come."

Nanjiroh knew this was coming. He gently pushed Ryoma back down onto the couch. "You're sick. You threw up. Geez, you need to sleep, not deal with more stress."

"But…can't we do it later then?"

"I want to know what's happening, and since you won't tell me, I'm going to have to go today." Nanjiroh's voice was stern but upon seeing Ryoma's crestfallen expression, his eyes softened. "You know, you're not gunna be alone. Nanako-san will be in the house too."

Ryoma's eyes widened. How did his father know he was worried about Rinko? "I'm…why would I be worried about being alone? And of course I'm not going to be alone. Nanako-san and k-kaa-san will both be in the house, so how come you didn't say kaa-san's nam-"

Nanjiroh smiled painfully. "Forget it. I just wanted to let you know. You should continue resting."

The boy blinked as his father got up, waved behind his head, and disappeared out of the front door. He wanted to argue – don't go, don't leave me alone with this witch. Nanako-san can't do anything, she's only in college. But he didn't, because then he would know, and for some reason, that fact was worse than everything that had happened. Ugh, he was so incredibly tired of all this overcomplicated thinking. Life was simple. Life was supposed to be simple. His life was simple. Ryoma took an angry breath, annoyed at how much everything was controlling him.

You know what…

In what felt like a long time, Ryoma thought of something that sounded like his normal self.

What. The. Hell.

And with that, he fell back onto the couch with a thud.

Thanks for reading! Ugh, I totally thought I was writing like a writing goddess and then I read it over and I'm like...Omigod, this totally sucks. I mean, I'm not TRYING to fish for compliments or anything. I swear I'm not. I hate when people say that, because I'm just being truthful. I feel like the pacing was awkward and I got too dramatic. Sigh. Well, I guess mistakes are a part of learning. And so I'm sorry if it's a disappointment. Next chapter is climax, so I hope I can pull it off.