Two
Ryoma struggled for breath as he fought against the unpleasant burning sensation in his lungs. Getting into position, he bent his knees and focused his concentration on the ball and Momo, who was currently busy looking at him with a slightly incredulous expression.
"Again."
Momo's mouth fell open. "Hey, hey, Echizen! Don't you think it's about time to stop now? You've already smashed it a billion times."
"Again," Ryoma repeated, ignoring the older boy's advice.
Momo frowned at Ryoma's stubbornness and proceeded to lob the ball in preparation for yet another smash. Even though the freshman was clearly exhausted and sweating puddles all over the court, he continued to race forward with alarmingly clear eyes.
Pant, pant, pant, pant, pant…THWACK!
Ryoma landed on his feet with his right arm curved in front of him and his left angled to the side.
"Again."
"Echizen –"
"Again," Ryoma interrupted, raising his head to meet Momo's bewildered eyes with a challenge in his own.
Momo sighed and prepared to serve yet another lob, all the while acutely aware of the attention that they were beginning to attract from a few of the other club members. Their captain, whose stoic expression remained intact, was even watching them from his spot next to Ryuzaki-sensei.
Pant, pant, pant, pant, pant…THWACK!
"Again."
Pant, pant, pant, pant, pant…THWACK!
"Again."
Fifteen minutes later, Ryoma finally straightened his stance, allowing both arms to fall to his sides and his head to lower leaving the upper part of his face to be shaded by his cap. His chest and shoulders were rapidly rising and falling while sweat streamed down his face and collected in the dips of his collarbone. Hoping that the freshman had finally had his fill of lobs and smashes for the day, Momo didn't dare say a word.
"Again."
"Something's not right," Momo murmured, "Something's not right."
"Hey…Echizen…," the junior began hesitantly, "Practice is almost over and I'm dead tired. I think it's about time to qui–"
"Again."
The spiky-haired boy was finally losing his patience. "Hey, Echizen! Are you even listening to me! I said that it's about time to quit!"
"Again."
"Bastard," Momo grumbled.
Instead of lobbing another ball to the younger boy, Momo decided to return a smash for a smash – anything to get the other to finally quit. "Argh," he grunted as he sent the ball sailing powerfully to the other side of the court.
"There, that should get my point across," he muttered with satisfaction.
THWACK!
Before the junior had a chance to react, the ball suddenly returned at what seemed an impossible speed. He watched in wide-eyed disbelief as a flash of yellow raced on by, hitting the fence behind him with a loud cling. Somewhat subdued, Momo was unable to say anything as he regarded his young opponent who was currently crouched in a ready stance. Their eyes clashed over the net; one set concerned while the other determined.
"…Hey…Echizen…" Momo began slowly, his voice trailing off.
Ryoma remained where he was for another minute, allowing the waning adrenaline in his small body to calm down. Despite the fact that several of the other club members were currently watching them, he was only aware of the now familiar sensation of a light-haired tennis genius curiously studying him. And he flat out refused to look in the direction of that one. He sighed when he could no longer hear the rushing blood in his ears. Finally relaxing his stance, Ryoma stood and turned away from the other boy across the net.
"Che." He pulled the bill of his cap low. Momo, who had been frozen, watched as the freshman walk off the court. He blinked a couple of times before suddenly coming to life.
"H-hey! Echizen!" he called out. The younger boy ignored him. "Hey! Come back here! What the hell was that! This is a rally for God's sake, what's with the two-handed backhand!" Momo yelled to Ryoma's retreating form.
"Mada mada dane," Ryoma replied faintly.
"M – mada mada…? Don't tell me that, you brat! You could at least be thankful once in a while! Hey get back here! Captain, make this bastard run laps!"
Oblivious to all, but one, around him, Ryoma's feet rapidly ate up the ground as he made his way through the gates.
"Echizen."
Ryoma stopped at the sound of the soft voice. Still refusing to look at this particular senpai, he waited, unwilling to answer the light-haired boy as his eyes focused ahead. He remained stubbornly silent for a few heartbeats before walking away.
"Water break," he mumbled over his shoulder.
It was near dusk. Dinner was over, along with pitifully easy homework which Ryoma had completed in under twenty minutes. He had thought about challenging his old man to another match, but decided that he wasn't in the mood for any of the stupid ex-pro's perverted childish antics, and instead opted to hole up in his room for the night. Karupin mewled softly as he walked into the dim room and jumped up onto the foot of Ryoma's bed. He pawed gently at the boy's leg before curling down beside him. The young tennis player reached down to absently stroke the top of the cat's head, his other arm tucked behind his pillow as he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was so lost in thought that he failed to notice when the Himalayan began to purr, something which he usually found comforting.
"Fuji-senpai, please leave me alone."
"I can't do that Echizen. Not until you're mine…"
"…Huh?
Ryoma, with breath caught in his throat, stared in wide-eyed shock at the older boy who simply gazed back. Wind rustling the tree leaves barely disturbed the dreadful silence. Finally, the other boy let his eyes close and a grin spread across his face.
Fuji chuckled. Ryoma blinked in confusion as he watched his senpai's chuckling slowly turn into full blown laughter. After several minutes of watching the older boy's obvious mirth, it finally dawned on Ryoma: he had been tricked. Against his will, he could feel the growing warmth begin in his cheeks.
"Che…idiot senpai," he muttered, glaring at the light-haired tennis genius whose laughter had calmed to a soft giggle which he hid behind a slender hand. Ryoma turned his head to hide his embarrassment. For reasons unknown to him, he suddenly didn't feel so good. His stomach felt heavy and his chest was starting to hurt. It was somewhat disturbing to realize that this feeling was very similar to how he felt whenever his stupid old man beat him in a match. If Ryoma didn't know any better, he would have thought that this feeling was somehow connected to the current situation. He tried to sulk away the unwanted emotion.
"Echizen." Ryoma turned to face glaring eyes at Fuji. The light-haired boy met him with an apologetic look…which would have been fine if it weren't for that damned annoying little smile plastered on his face. But then again, because of that annoying smile, Ryoma was able to focus on something other than the sick feeling in his gut. In fact, only a couple of minutes later, he began to feel like his normal, bored self again. Maybe that stupid smile wasn't so bad after all.
"Forgive me. I just couldn't help myself."
Ryoma wordlessly glowered for a bit longer before standing up to brush himself off. He could feel Fuji watching him from his sitting position as he bent down to retrieve his racket bag. He slung the bag over his left shoulder.
"Fine. Whatever," the freshman threw over his shoulder. He started to walk away, only to be brought up short by Fuji's next comment.
"That is unless…" he began softly, the sentence slowly dying on his lips. Ryoma turned.
"What?" he asked. In spite of himself, and although he was a little afraid of the reply, Ryoma was curious. Fuji was currently busy looking at the trunk of the tree rather than at Ryoma, which was strange considering the amount of staring that the older boy had been participating in lately.
"Did you have fun during our match?"
Ryoma blinked. That was not what he had been expecting. "What?"
"When we played on the court. The practice match. Did you have fun?" With opened eyes, Fuji raised his head toward Ryoma. The younger boy returned the gaze with a somewhat confused, somewhat impatient look of his own.
He shrugged. "Sure. Whatever."
"Ah…that's good."
Ryoma studied the cryptic smile on the tennis genius' face a bit longer before walking away.
He was feeling a little sick again.
"Hey, boy!"
Startled out of his thoughts, Ryoma jumped a little at the interruption, accidentally sending Karupin to the floor. After expelling a breath of relief when he saw the cat fall on all fours, he turned to glare at the intruder.
"What do you want?"
Seeing that he had frazzled his son a bit, Nanjiroh grinned.
"My, my, my, did I interrupt something…private?" he leered. Ryoma closed his eyes in annoyance.
"Stupid old man," he muttered, "What did you want?"
"Now is that any way to talk to your loving father who came all the way up here to tell you that you had a visitor?" Nanjiroh asked with feigned innocence.
Ryoma closed his eyes again and snorted. Wait! Did he say visitor?
"Don't be too loud, boy," Nanjiroh called out before leaving. Faint whistling could be heard as he walked down the hallway.
What visitor? Ryoma wondered. He flopped back onto his bed to stare up at the ceiling again. Probably Momo-senpai came by to see if I'm alright-
"Hello Echizen."
Ryoma flinched at the familiar voice and turned sharply to the doorway. There stood the light-haired tennis genius, annoying smile and all. He slowly made his way into the room.
"You seemed as if you didn't feel well at practice today. Since we really didn't get a chance to talk, I thought I'd stop by to see how you were." Fuji's blue eyes were open and trained upon Ryoma with a deceptively unreadable glint as he set his racket bag onto Ryoma's bedroom floor with an ominous thud.
