Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis? Not mine. I only play with the characters and hope one day I'll scar enough people that Konomi-sensei won't want them back and will give them to me willingly. XD
Warnings: Shounen-ai, Fuji being Fuji
Notes: I've been dying to write a FujiRyo fic forever. I had some ideas floating around and a paragraph or two down...but I scrapped that and started over with this. For kasugai (underscore dammit!) gummie because I LOFF her for my drabble. And because she understands that good FujiRyo makes everything better. .
Xenophobia is a fear of strangers or foreigners (foreign things in general).
-Xenophobia-
It took two separate incidents within a week of each other to spur Fuji into action.
The first occurred during tennis practice after school on Tuesday. Fuji stood beside Tezuka on the edge of the tennis courts watching the Golden Pair take on Momoshiro and Kaido. Inui was playing Kawamura and Ryoma stood on the sidelines, surrounded by wide-eyed freshmen. The loud one, Horio of Fuji recalled correctly (and he always did), was making some misinformed observation about Inui-senpai's playing skills.
Fuji watched, slightly amused, as Horio waved his arms around, gesticulating. Boy wonder scowled. Then Horio, concluding his faulty assessment, slung an arm over the other boy's shoulder, grinning and looking self-satisfied.
Ryoma's scowl deepened, but he didn't, Fuji noted, make any move to shrug off the arm.
The tensai was no longer amused.
The second incident took place on the way to Ryoma's home from the shopping district. Fuji, who had needed to run an errand, had conned the younger boy into accompanying him. After an hour of wandering through girls' sections of clothing shops (he owed his sister a new skirt, Fuji insisted with his usual smile, as he pressed Ryoma to model it for him), Fuji had taken it upon himself to see his sulking kohai home.
They were packed close on the rush-hour subway and the press of bodies only served to make Ryoma more irritated. Fuji retained his usual manner and only lost his smile when he noticed a hand patting the younger boy's bottom.
Ryoma said, with surprise, about two minutes later, "My wallet's gone."
Fuji handed it back to him, unsmiling.
Ryoma blinked but said, "Arigato." There was a tinge of suspicion in his gaze, though, as if he was considering asking, "And when did you decide to cop a feel, Fuji-senpai?" but thought better of it.
It was at this point that Fuji decided that Echizen's strange tolerance for physical contact was not acceptable.
If it wasn't him doing the contact, in any case.
XENOPHOBIA
A FujiRyo fic
By: Meitachi
10.19.2004
Ryoma faltered only a moment when he stepped into the room and caught sight of the object sitting atop his desk. He approached it warily, eyeing it with distrust. It looked, it looked like...
...a packet of chocolates wrapped in garishly pink and red cellophane and matching ribbons.
Ribbons that curled.
Careful not to let his panic show on his face, Ryoma sat down cautiously and continued staring at the pink confection on his desk. What...was this? It was only October, months until Valentine's Day. And as far as he knew, his less than friendly glares and mutters had warned off even Osakada a few months prior. Surely she wouldn't be so stupid as to start this up again?
He poked it gingerly with his pencil as if afraid it would bite him. Or worse, start proclaiming its love for him. (Osakada's singing card in May had not been welcome.)
It shifted and a few chocolate lumps slid sideways. Other than that, it remained inanimate.
Ryoma glared at it.
"OI! Echizen! What's that?"
One day Ryoma would find time to sew Horio's mouth shut. For the moment, he settled for another of his famous glares and a muttered, "Nothing," as he picked up the pink thing and shoved it into his desk.
Whoever was doing this, he hoped the lack of response would put them off any further attempts.
--
The next day, Ryoma found a love poem taped to his locker and more chocolates nestled between his shoes.
He stared a moment before ripping the note off and crumpling it.
"What's that, ochibi?" asked Eiji, hovering nearby with a look of insatiable curiosity on his face.
Ryoma turned to look at his senpai. "Momo-senpai's English homework," he said deadpan. "Want it?"
Eiji snatched it from his hands. "Really, really?" He smoothed out the pink, scented paper and stared wide-eyed at the English squiggles. "Nyaaa, what is Momo-chan writing about??" Utterly absorbed, he bounced off to the tennis courts in search of Oishi to translate.
Boy wonder opened the locker beside his and dropped the chocolates inside. Then he took his shoes and sat down to change.
--
"Echizen seems particularly ferocious today," remarked Inui as he scribbled something in his notebook.
Fuji smiled. "Do you think so?"
"His intensity is up by 5.8 percent and the strength of his serves has increased by 12.5 percent. Something must be bothering him."
Sunlight slanted across the courts as Fuji turned to observe the boy sprinting toward the net to return Momoshiro's backhand. His eyes were narrowed and focused, as always, but there seemed to be a new set around his mouth. He was too good to manifest his tenseness into the way he held his racket or himself, though. Good form, Fuji observed, his smile slightly less innocent than usual.
"Indeed. Tell me if you notice anything else different about our little genius," he said to Inui.
The sound of shouts, sneakers against the courts, and tennis balls against well-strung rackets resounded through the air, and a loud, "3-2, Echizen service," cut through it cleanly.
Inui adjusted his glasses. "Of course."
--
Wednesday, Ryoma found a rose on his desk. He couldn't give it to anyone else without raising speculation as to where his affections lay, but he didn't want to just leave the poor plant in his desk or in a trash can.
"Wow, Ryoma, someone must really love you!" Horio announced loudly.
Giving up his half-hearted plans to save the plant, Ryoma shoved it, annoyed, into the other boy's hands. "Well, now they love you," he snapped as Horio started whining about thorns.
Ryoma wondered who could possibly be so infatuated with him. He hardly gave off Come-Molest-Me vibes (or so he thought), though he was beginning to doubt that. Or maybe his Stay-The-Fuck-Away vibes were being misread as Come-Humiliate-Me-Utterly vibes.
It was getting so he was dreading coming to school. If it weren't necessary to being able to stay in the tennis club, he'd avoid it altogether.
--
"What are you doing, Fuji?" Tezuka cornered the tensai after tennis practice that day, a frown on his face.
"What makes you think I'm doing anything?" Fuji smiled his innocent smile.
Tezuka crossed his arms, making quite the intimidating picture in the barren locker room, late afternoon sunlight filtering in behind him to limn him in a golden sort of glow. "Fuji," he said, exasperated. "Leave Echizen alone."
"Did you know you're glowing right now?" Fuji said instead.
Tezuka had an impressive glower.
The tensai only smiled cheekily. "I'm only looking out for his welfare, buchou." He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and took a step forward, as if ready to leave.
"What do you mean by that?"
"He's far too trusting of strangers," said Fuji. "He tolerates too much inappropriate physical contact. Did you know he almost got his wallet stolen the other day?"
There was a long moment of silence. Tezuka continued to eye the shorter boy suspiciously. Finally, he expelled a long breath. "How does scaring him with candy and poems help that, Fuji? You should know better."
"Ah, but you should trust me, Tezuka. I'll have him cured soon." That vague comment and another smile, and then Fuji was gone.
Tezuka shook his head, uncrossing his arms and stepping toward the bench to gather his own things. He pitied Echizen. Kami save him from whatever the tensai had planned. He only hoped it didn't scar the poor boy too much; the team needed him.
--
The following day, Ryoma was greeted with a bouquet of wildflowers on his desk, a bright-red heart shaped note full of love haikus, and a plate of baked cookies.
Face red, he dumped the flowers in the trash, much to the dismay of his female classmates, and threw the poems in after it. The cookies he took to lunch and gave to an enthusiastic Eiji and smilingly thankful Oishi.
"Ne, Ryoma," Fuji said to him, patting his knee. "Did you bake the cookies?"
"Hah!" laughed Momoshiro. "Ryoma can't bake!" He grinned and ruffled boy wonder's hair.
Ryoma glared, embarrassed, into his lunch and didn't say anything.
He didn't trust anyone anymore.
--
Then there was a life-size poster of him plastered to his locker and about five or six of the surrounding lockers. Someone had covered it with red-inked hearts and "sexy" and "prince of my heart."
Mortified, Ryoma ripped it down while giggles and whispers rippled in the hallway behind him.
He was really considering not coming to school anymore.
--
"He now speaks 60.3 percent less than usual, speaking only in class or when addressed by a teacher or an upperclassman. He also avoids eye contact 37.6 percent more than before. The fierceness of his tennis has increased by 33 percent and he blushes 19.4 percent more than before."
Fuji listened as Inui rattled off statistics, feeling the satisfaction of a job well-done winding its way through his bloodstream. He nodded in response, smiling; always smiling.
The taller boy paused and glanced at him. "I expect a full report when this is over."
"Certainly."
It should only take a few more days.
--
"Saa, Ryoma, why have you been avoiding me lately?" Fuji tugged on the boy's cap. "I hardly see you as it is."
Golden eyes peered up at him for a moment then dropped to stare at the ground again.
"You don't have to walk me home, Fuji-senpai," he said.
"How else will I get to see you?" reasoned Fuji, smiling as he threaded his hand through Ryoma's. "You never talk during lunch anymore and we're always busy during practice. I feel neglected."
This earned him another brief stare.
Ryoma was blushing, Fuji noted idly, but he had made no move to disentangle their hands. "I've been busy," he muttered, resuming his assessment of his sneakers.
"You should never be too busy for your boyfriend," the tensai said cheerfully. Ryoma made no reply and the two walked in silence until they reached the temple grounds. Fuji opened his eyes, looking down at the white cap covering the younger boy's hair.
With a wicked little smile, he tilted Ryoma's face up and planted a kiss on his mouth. "See you tomorrow, Ryoma."
He left the boy blinking after him.
--
Tuesday morning Ryoma encountered the stuff of nightmares.
There was a card on his desk. (He considered sitting at someone else's desk for the day and too fucking bad if they didn't agree.)
It was a simple, rather plain card when compared to the garishly decorated stuff of the past week. The cover was white and traced with silvery pink hearts. Gingerly, Ryoma flipped it open, bracing himself.
In a tinny, recorded voice, the card burst into song.
Ryoma thought, "Ohmyfuckinggodwhatthehell shit," and dropped it. Classmates who'd arrived early and were watching in obvious amusement (it had become a daily ritual to Watch What Echizen Gets Today and see how long it takes before it takes before he freaks out completely; bets were being taken) attempted to stifle their laughter. One particularly suicidal girl cooed that it was such a cute card. The comment earned her a murderous glower.
His stalker was evidently not only deranged and color blind but also horribly sadistic.
...He paused.
...and thought of the person that should've been at the top of his suspect list since the first day with the chocolates.
--
"Fuji-senpai."
"Hmm?"
"Can I talk to you?"
"Saa, I don't know, can you?"
"Fuji-senpai."
"All right, all right. Here, Eiji, don't eat my sashimi, I'll be right back. Saa, Ryoma, what's this about?"
"Are you the one leaving these love poems and chocolates and flowers all over my desk and locker?"
Fuji smiled at him blandly. "I don't know. Do I seem like the kind of person who would do that?"
Ryoma gave this some thought. Did Fuji seem like the sort of person who would leave sickly sweet cards and bad poetry and pink ribbons all over his desk? No.
Did Fuji seem like the sort of sadistic bastard who would do this to his boyfriend for some reason unknown except to himself?
"Yes," said Ryoma.
A light breeze ruffled Fuji's fine bangs. "Saa, in that case, I must have done it." He was still smiling.
Boy wonder was getting a bit annoyed. "Well, why?"
"To teach you a fear of strangers."
Blink. Pause. Replay the sentence. Blink again. "What?"
"You were getting careless," the tensai reproached him, blue eyes clear against the sky. He tapped a finger against Ryoma's cheek chidingly. "Letting all sorts of people hang all over you and not even flinching. You might've even gotten your wallet stolen, you know."
There was a brief pause while the younger boy processes this.
"So you made my life miserable just to teach me to beware of strangers?"
"Hmm...yes, I think that's about it."
"...I hate you, Fuji-senpai."
There was a decided lack of heat behind that statement. Somewhere along the line of accepting the eccentric tensai as his boyfriend, Ryoma had come to terms with the sadistic (and inexplicable) side of Fuji's nature as well. He could only sigh as Fuji pulled him close, smiling.
"You're very cute, Ryoma," he said, narrowing the gap between their faces.
Ryoma felt his heart pound, involuntarily. Somehow, Fuji could always do this to him. Letting the horrible past week drift from his mind, he slid his eyes shut and tilted his face up to accept Fuji's soft kiss.
"And I'm very possessive," murmured the older boy against his lips.
The only thing that surprised Ryoma, as he slid his arms around Fuji and somewhat embarrassedly submitted himself to his warm mouth, was that Fuji had admitted to that possessiveness.
--
"Intensity, down 8.8 percent; eye contact, up 5.3 percent; tenseness, down 27.9 percent; blushes, up 6.8 percent."
Fuji smiled. "Thank you, Inui. I can give you a full report after practice."
"I assume you were successful in your endeavor?"
"Of course."
--
END
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