Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis, someone else does . . . TT
The halls were quiet. They were always quiet, never a noise to break the monotony of the day. If he hadn't been crazy before, this place would have pushed him off the deep end. Echizen Ryoma was a recently admitted inmate in the infamous Seigaku Asylum for the Tennis Insane. Even though he had insisted he was perfectly normal, they had asked weird questions about his cat then drug him to a straight jacket and a padded room.
Ryoma lay on his back, as that was the only comfortable position one could achieve while wearing a straight jacket. He had already counted the number of padded tiles on the ceiling, walls, and floor countless times and was once again indescribably bored.
There was a noise from the door. Ryoma would have sat up if that was at all possible, but it took effort to do without the use of one's arms. So he simply waited until the doctor stood over him.
"Hullo. . .," Ryoma squinted, trying to read the name upside down, "Doctor Kirihara."
"Hello-," the doctor peered at his clipboard, "Patient 4M45-4M0Y2."
"My name is Echizen Ryoma," Ryoma said from the floor.
"Of course it is," the doctor made a note on his clipboard, "Now tell me about this 'Karupin' character."
"Karupin is my cat, not a character," Ryoma blinked up at the doctor.
"I see," he made another note, "How long have you been seeing this cat?"
"We got him when I was little if that's what you mean," Ryoma glared.
"Have you seen any other animals?" the doctor asked.
"Of course I do," Ryoma was confused, "Fish in the fish market, birds in the park, what do you expect?"
"I expect nothing, 4M45," the doctor smiled down at him.
"My name is Ryoma," he insisted.
"Of course it is 4M45," With that Doctor Kirihara left him alone once more in the pressing silence.
"1 ceiling tile, 2 ceiling tiles, 3 . . ."
"Why am I in here, Doctor?"
"We are here to help you, N4HC-0M0M."
"Help me with what? And its Momo," the spiky-haired teen told the doctor for the what seemed to be the millionth time.
"Of course, N4HC. Now take your medicine," Doctor Kirihara held out a small paper cup, pills jangling inside of it.
"I don't think you understand, doctor. I don't need medicine. There is nothing wrong with me," Momo insisted.
"I have evidence of you acting like a duck," The doctor said, consulting his clipboard.
"That was because of that weird stuff you gave me before!" Momo was outraged.
"Was it now," It was clear the doctor wasn't even paying attention, so Momo slumped up against the wall of the padded room he had been locked in.
"N4HC, please take your medicine," Kirihara held out the cup once more.
"If I do, will you leave me alone?" Momo growled.
"Of course I will, now be a good boy and take your medicine," Momo grabbed the cup away from the doctor angrily and quickly swallowed its contents.
"There, ya happy! Now . . . weeb me . . . awon . . . ," Doctor Kirihara smiled down as his patient slowly lost sanity.
He was surrounded by darkness. His hands were questing for solidity, but felt nothing. His eyes scanned the darkness, his ears straining for a hint of sound. Acid-like tears burned gouges into his cheeks, his skin smoking.
"No!" Momo scratched at his face, trying to rub away the burning tears. "NOOOOOO!"
He sat bolt upright, his heart pounding an uneven tempo against his ribcage. His breath ripped out of his lungs like knives. Momoshiro was strangely comforted by the sight of the familiar padded room. Strange when an insane asylum became your link to sanity.
"You are crazy."
Momo spun. There was someone else in the room! A boy maybe a year younger than him with eyes of burnished gold sporting a straight jacket.
"I'm not the one in the straight jacket," Momo growled.
"Now now, boys. Don't fight!" Doctor Kirihara entered the cell with his usual flourish, "Starting from now you two are going to be rooming together as part of my group experimental rehabilitation."
"Doctor, I'm not crazy. Please," Momo pleaded but the doctor merely looked at him like he was a small child, patted him on the head and left. The door locked with a solid click before the room descended into silence.
"So you're N4HC? That's a dumb name," the boy in the straight jacket said suddenly. Momo jumped, he had forgotten the kid was there.
"My name is Momo," he growled.
"The doctor says you think your name is Momo," the boy cocked his head, "He says you think you are a peach."
"I do not think I am a fruit!" Momo yelled. The boy just shrugged.
"Would make sense, I guess," he mumbled, "Were you trying to peel yourself in your sleep?" Momo growled and refused to answer the obvious psychopath sitting across from him.
"Doctor Kirihara," the doctor turned to meet his assistant.
"Ah, Kunimitsu, how may I help you?" Kirihara smiled.
"I was delivering the medicine for block C and noticed that one of the patients is missing," Tezuka said stoically.
"Ah, Patient N1J-U57UK4," the doctor smiled. Tezuka checked his clipboard.
"Indeed," he nodded, "I was wondering where the patient has been transferred so I can change the files."
"N1J has been released," the doctor smiled warmly.
Tezuka frowned, "Released, doctor? I thought you said he was still emotionally unstable." Tezuka checked his notes for confirmation. The doctor laughed.
"N1J's emotional capacity is still limited, but I released him to a different sort of rehabilitation," Kirihara smiled.
"Don't they need his paperwork?" Tezuka asked.
Kirihara chuckled, "No, I don't think they will." With that he smiled and left his assistant.
Tezuka stood in the middle of the hall for a while longer before returning to his rounds. There were new patients to be analyzed and filed and the doctor had entrusted him with an entire block of them.
Block S was as dimly lit as the rest of the asylum, but Tezuka always thought it felt colder than the rest of the compound. He pulled his white lab coat tighter around him as he walked. He checked his clipboard for his first appointment.
Patient #: 3KU5-UUY5
Room #: Block S Room 13
Tezuka arrived at the designated room and opened the door slowly, wary of the mental state of its occupant. When no one came charging at him foaming at the mouth, he entered the room and closed the door.
In the corner of the room a young man was watching him.
"Patient 3KU5?" silly question, who else would it be?
"I believe that is what the kind doctor wrote on some paperwork," the brown-haired man smiled, "But you may call me Fuji Syuusuke."
"I think I will stick to your designated number, 3KU5," Tezuka frowned.
"Whichever you would prefer, I suppose," the man leaned against the padded wall of his cell, "I would personally prefer a name to a number. Names are so much more personal, don't you think?"
Tezuka ignored the question, "Have you been experiencing any nausea or dizziness as a side effect to any of you medications?"
"No," the man smiled again, it made Tezuka quite uncomfortable.
"Any diarrhea or upset stomach?"
"No," the smile remained in place.
"Any constipation or fati-"
"I have not been experiencing any unusual side effects to any off the medications I am receiving. Though I am not entirely sure why I am receiving said medications," the man interrupted.
"Do you know where you are?" Tezuka asked the question as if it were routine, though this meeting seemed to be anything but.
"The Seigaku Asylum if I recall correctly," he said after a moment.
"That is correct. And you do realize that if you are in an asylum it is easily assumable that you are in need of the care of such a facility?" Tezuka said in his no-nonsense voice.
"I do," Fuji . . . no, 3KU5 said.
"Then what questions could you have as to the reason you are receiving medication?" Tezuka asked.
"Does everyone require medication?" 3KU5 asked.
"Everyone in this facility receives medication at le-"
"Not in this asylum. I meant outside of it," the patient interrupted.
"They do not," Tezuka said, confused.
"And why do they not?" the smiling man prodded.
"They do not require medication," Tezuka said slowly.
"And why do they not require it?"
"Because they are mentally sound," Tezuka frowned.
"And you do not think I am mentally sound?" the patient asked.
"I do not see why you would be in this compound if you were sane," Tezuka said simply.
"But there is the catcher," he smiled, "Only those who are insane are delusional enough to believe themselves sane. People in their right mind know very well that they are not 100 sound mentally."
Tezuka blinked, his mind running over and over the words as he tried to make sense of them.
"I think you are mistaken," he said slowly, still running the words over in his mind.
"Am I? How interesting," the patient smiled, "Were there any other questions you needed to ask me?"
"Er . . . no," Tezuka left the room quickly, disconcerted by the lucidity of the patients gaze.
AN: This is such crack . . . I don't know if there will be another chapter