Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis was created by Konomi Takeshi. Not me. Please don't sue.
AN: This is for all the people who've liked 'Eyes' but wanted to know who the characters were and how it all came about. Regarding the timeline for this fic, events in these chapters occur before the prologue. To be more accurate, they will lead up to it.
Comments and criticisms welcome. Thanks for liking my work. Enjoy.
Masquerade
By Cinpii
Chapter 1: Breaking point
Echizen Ryoma despised mornings. He never liked them much to begin with. The sudden day rise additions to his life certainly did not help. Just when he thought he took care of the matter, another one popped up. In fact, they were all starting to compound.
The first caught Ryoma by surprise but being a well-adjusted sort of person, he dealt with it fine enough. After that, they arrived in a trickle. It was a small stream, each request far and few in between. Overall, not a big hassle. It was after word of his tennis victories got around when they really started pouring in. It was now at the point where he actually contemplated forfeiting a match to see if they would stop. And Echizen Ryoma did not forfeit matches. The situation was indeed, quite dire.
Ryoma opened his shoebox and restrained the weary sigh that threatened to escape. This was getting annoying, he thought as his eyebrow ticked. With barely contained impatience, the boy buckled down and repeated the ritual he did too many times to count.
With his thumb he ripped open the cutely decorated envelope and pulled out the equally cute piece of matching stationary. He must have received a few dozen of them by now. Ryoma didn't need to read the letter to know what it would be about. They were all pretty much the same. Veteran eyes skimmed the contents and instead looked for specifics. In careful, painstaking print, he found his query. After school, by the large oak near the library.
Geez, as if he didn't have better things to do. And why was it always after school? Couldn't they be a little more considerate? He had hobbies and not to mention, a goal in life. How would he smite his old man if all these obstacles kept hindering him?
This would take at least fifteen minutes, he thought with irritation. The trek to the library, while not incredibly far away from the courts, were still a distance away given the size of Seigaku's campus. It'd take him five minutes to walk there from his last class. Then he'd have to stand there and feel guilty for making the girl – whoever she was this time – cry. The walk back was another five minutes, and of course, he'd be late for practice, which would then mean an extra twenty laps around the courts.
His breath hissed out behind clenched teeth. The letter crinkled as his hand fisted. This had to stop. These silly confessions were becoming a major pain in the ass. His tolerance for girls, while not high in the first place, took a steep plummet with each asinine letter that cluttered his box. Why couldn't they leave him alone? What did he do to encourage this? Ryoma rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could not think of a single answer.
Overhead the bell rang and he jerked to attention. With hasty movements he changed shoes and strode to class. He'd have to think of some way to permanently fix this problem. As for now, he had an English test to ace.
Behind him, a pink crumpled ball circled the rim of a trash bin before sinking in.