Chapter: Prologue - Nightmares
Author: Datenshi Blue
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Ryoma, Momo, Fuji, Tezuka, Atobe, Ryoga, Yuuta and many others probably.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but I have fun torturing them.
Notes: This is kind of an experiment. Although it's not an AU, the story takes place six years after the end of the anime, when Ryoma is 18. I'm trying to write this as a response to a challenge, but I'm not sure it's going to work, because I'm too happy a person to write dark fics XD That's why I would really appreciate any kind of comment and thoughts about this little prologue. I don't want to fall in easy angst, because I hate it, and yes, there's a reason why Ryoma is like that. There is also going to be a plot, for a change. And I kind of know where I'm going also for a change, so chances are high that I'm going to write this consistently (well, if it looks interesting for anyone else) So please, read and review?
SPIRAL
By Datenshi Blue
It is cold, even for an early April morning. However, most of the audience that has gathered in the Tokyo Dome to watch today's tennis game does not seem to care, or to even notice it. They are mesmerized by the match they are watching. Both players seem to have reached an almost inhuman level of concentration, both are focused on their game and almost dancing across the court. The smaller player is winning, and it really does not come as a surprise. Echizen Ryoma is the new rising star, after all. He is the American tennis prodigy that almost won his first US Open six years ago, when he was twelve. Echizen Ryoma disappeared from the tennis scene for several years after that and appeared again last summer, coming seemingly from nowhere and, almost literally, sweeping his rivals from the court. Rumour has it that he was not happy at all despite the awesome results, because there were up to seven players in the tennis history that had managed to win a Grand Slam in their first attempt. It does not seem to matter to him that he was only twelve during his first attempt at the US Open - and thus becoming the youngest player ever to make it to a final round of a world class tournament -, or that he managed the no trivial feat of winning the second place against all odds. That first US Open is a dark spot in his record, or so Echizen Ryoma thinks.
That would explain his aggressive playstyle, the one that made him run to the first position of his second US Open without having lost a single set. The seventeen-year-old player made a big name for himself in just a few weeks. After the US Open came the Australian Open that finished just a couple of months ago. By the beginning of February, Echizen Ryoma had two Grand Slam titles in his possession, was - at last - the eighth player to win a Grand Slam in his first appearance at the event, and seemed invincible.
Why such a big player is interested in a minor tournament in Japan - the AIG Japan Open, which is part of the professional circuit and would suit him better is not held until October, after all - is something that nobody can really explain. Some say he is just training for the upcoming Roland Garros. Others try to go a bit further. There have been a couple of interesting articles about him in important tennis magazines. They talk about how his father was a professional player years ago, one that was called "Samurai" because of his Asian heritage, and they suppose that Echizen Ryoma wants to get closer to his own origins. After all, both his parents are Japanese, even if the kid has lived in the United States most of his life. Few people know that he spent a few months in Japan back when he was twelve. Even fewer people know that those months are probably what he considers the best times of his life. So most reporters can only guess at what has brought him to Japan when the French Open is around the corner.
In truth, not even Echizen Ryoma knows.
Six years ago, he left Seigaku to pursue his dreams and play the US Open. He deserted his friends at the worst possible time, just when the National Tournament, the goal they all had been striving towards together, was about to start. He had to make up his mind and make a choice: his career as a professional tennis player or a Jr. High School National Tournament. His heart was telling him to stay and play along with his friends. But everyone told him that a twelve-year-old's heart cannot be trusted and that he'd better pack his things and aim for the world. And even if Ryoma has never considered his father a well of wisdom, he certainly held a lot of respect for his captain. And his captain told him that it was enough if he could be Seigaku's Pillar of Support from afar. Even his best friend - and probably his first love -, Momoshiro Takeshi, had pushed him towards his dreams with tears in his eyes.
Seigaku won the National Tournament that year, even without Echizen Ryoma supporting them. Ryoma lost both the US Open and the only chance he would ever have to play a National Tournament with all his friends.
Regret? Everyone used to lecture him and tell him that he would regret it if he did not seize that opportunity and, instead, let it go to waste in exchange for a Jr. High School tournament. In Ryoma's eyes, going to play that US Open is one of the worst mistakes he has ever made. It probably wasn't too soon, given that he made it to the finals, but it had consequences he had not foreseen and that had a lot to do with a whimsical father that has never been totally right in the head.
Ryoma hadn't wanted to go back to America. Ryoma was happy in Japan. He had friends he loved dearly, a tennis team that would last unbroken for another six months and, yes, that too, a relationship to explore with Momo-senpai, even if they were too young at the time to fully understand what that meant.
What was there in America for him? A special coach, a lot of tennis, his father's pressure and the return of his half-brother Ryoga to the family. That's right, to add to all those things that did not make a lot of sense in Echizen Ryoma's life, one fine day Ryoga came back, just as suddenly as he had disappeared so many years ago.
But Ryoma does not like to think about Ryoga. In fact, Ryoma does make a point of avoiding anything that has to do with his half-brother. Now, if only avoiding the nightmares was that easy.
With a sound that is half a moan and half a scream, Ryoma hits the ball with all his considerable strength and an added dark violence that has become his trademark, and his opponent cannot even move towards it to try to return it. With that, the match is over and Ryoma scowls, frustrated. Mada mada dane, he thinks. He hasn't exhausted his body enough to grant himself a good night sleep, even after the barbaric training menu he has to follow after lunch.
The audience is clapping and screaming in delight. A lot of young girls are running towards the front of the stands intent on getting Echizen Ryoma's autograph. He is a world star now, after all. And he feels Japanese, even if people always talk about him as the American genius, so he is considered an idol, or something close enough to that, in Japan. Maybe he did not give a damn about Japan when he was a child, except for a hollow curiosity that came from the way his mother talked about her country and the language he spoke and read at home, since his father sucked at English, anyway. But all of that changed after his freshman year in Seishun Gakuen. Ryoma is Japanese in his heart, even if he has not been back in Japan ever since. Japan means fair game to him, implicit respect and the yearning to go further and higher. And a cobalt blue flag with a Jr. High School badge fluttering calmly under a cloudless summer sky.
Echizen is not stupid, though. He knows he has been idealizing Japan (Seigaku) for years and that chances are high that he will be disappointed when he is finally back. But, for the time being, things like hearing the melodious language being spoken everywhere around him and being able to see the cherry trees blooming all over the place are enough to soothe his heart. At least when he is not trying to sleep.
He scribbles his name on some pictures, distractedly, feeling the cool air drying the sweat in his forehead now that he took his cap off. People are leaving the stadium but he does not really care about them, or the so-called fans jumping around him, asking for a handshake. He wants to take a shower and stroll around the city, walking until his legs ache. He might give in and just self-indulge for a while, entering the McDonalds he used to have dinner at, if it is still standing, and sitting down at the table he used to share with Momo-senpai where he will let his mind wander off for a bit.
He might even visit his old school, just to feel that poignant pain that pierces one's heart when coming across dear memories. Echizen Ryoma is only eighteen, but he feels old and pathetic clinging like that to his past.
Ryoma throws his head back to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand and that is when he sees him. There is a young man still sitting in the stands, surrounded by people that are leaving, watching him intently. Ryoma startles. He thinks he knows that face, he thinks he knows those half-lidded deep blue eyes and he recognizes the excitement they raise inside his chest. Ryoma lifts a hand to shadow his eyes so that he can take a better look, but the person has disappeared, mingling among the crowd.
"Fuji-senpai..." Ryoma whispers, his voice barely audible among the little cries of the girls surrounding him. He smiles to himself, a bitter and mirthless line that slightly curves his lips upwards and signs another picture, trying hard not to shake his head mockingly, laughing at himself. "Mada mada dane," he repeats, and his voice apparently sounds as impersonal and empty as always. Only the people that know him well would get the dark, scathing and annoyed tone he inflicts to his words. It is bad enough to be haunted by ghosts of his past. But seeing them everywhere is just a little too much.
Ryoma apologizes detachedly and grabs his tennis bag and his cap and, ignoring the photographers and journalists trying to get some words from him, he heads for the changing room without looking back.
By night, Ryoma has found a way to numb his body and even his mind. He is discarding his clothes carelessly, throwing black jeans to the floor and flinging his white shirt to the corner of his hotel room. There are a pair of hungry hands touching his chest and caressing his shoulders even as hot lips try to lock Ryoma's in a kiss. The tennis player responds to the caresses but not to the kiss. His lover stops insisting after he realizes that those lips will not move under his and goes instead to kiss his neck and bite his earlobe a tad too harshly. Echizen knows that he is being punished for his stubborn coldness and he grins at the audacity of his partner.
A pair of naked bodies fall on the bed and Ryoma moans almost helplessly when his lover slides into his tight passage with not nearly enough preparation. But that's all right because that is how Ryoma likes it. Anonymous, painful and wild. Something that will leave him too sore and tired to do anything other than sleep peacefully once it's over. He buries his nails into the shoulders of the body on top of him and shuts his eyes tightly, until there are only rays of red light flashing against a black background. Even if rough, his lover is not cruel and has grabbed his length with almost impossibly tender hands, stroking him at the same speed he is pushing in and out him. With the first brush against his prostate, Ryoma comes into his lover's hand, biting his lower lip to muffle a scream. He feels his body shaking, riding the last waves of his climax while his partner is still thrusting his hips wildly, looking for his own release. It does not take too long, and when it happens, he collapses on top of Ryoma's smaller body, making it hard for him to breathe.
Ryoma pushes him gently to his side, and props himself up, looking appreciatively at the beautiful body and the pretty face of the young man he met by chance in the pub at the hotel's lobby. He had been trying to drink himself stupid when Ryoma entered the elegant place, sitting at the bar by his side and ordering Ponta. Ryoma cannot remember how they started talking. The guy - he has not even heard his name - is in his early twenties and has gone to Tokyo for a job entrance exam, that much he knows. It seems he has just graduated and is now an architect in search for a job, with no luck. Well, something like that. Ryoma was not really paying attention while the other drawled, complaining about his bad luck. After all, Ryoma has never been a good listener.
No, Ryoma is a man of action. And tonight he has not gotten nearly enough. With a dark smile, he gets closer, getting rid of his partner's used condom with hands that are, perhaps, too proficient at such a task, or so the look in the other's eyes seems to say. Ryoma does not care. It's not like he is going to see him again after the night is over. He discards the rubber, throwing it into the litter bin with an accurate shot and lowers his head, licking the softening flesh with hungry lips.
When the other youth is writhing with desire, Ryoma lets go and prepares himself while his lover slips into another condom. A minute later he straddles him, lowering himself slowly until he feels the head against his entrance. Then he lets his hips fall down, until the young man's cock is completely buried within him. Ryoma arches his back, a low moan escaping his parted lips before he starts riding his nameless partner with rhythmic motions, raising his hips and lowering them swiftly.
This is nothing but just another meaningless night in Echizen Ryoma's life. For him, sex is nothing but a means to avoid his nightmares. Ryoma already knows that they will not appear if his body feels sated and he is too exhausted to think too much. It is not the most orthodox method to keep his sanity, but it is as good as any other. The world is a mean place in which, just as he had to find out rather crudely several years ago, tennis is not the answer to every problem. However, sometimes Ryoma misses the days when he thought it was, and he knows he is not the only one. But that's just how things are and he can't do anything else to make them better.
Tezuka Kunimitsu raises an eyebrow and almost smirks. Ever since he got his own place, the stern young man has been more relaxed. Not that Tezuka Kunimitsu can be relaxed in any situation - he would not be Tezuka Kunimitsu if he could -, but at least he does not have that almost military harshness around him all the time.
That serious appearance, though, and the way he excels at his law studies are what have granted him a rather nice position in an important lawyer firm, albeit he has just started his third year of college. A nice position that produces an income that allows him to live on his own without any help from his parents even though he is only twenty. But that shouldn't be surprising; Tezuka has always been a successful man.
He is sitting now on the edge of the big sofa that stands in front of the TV set. Echizen Ryoma has made it to the news again. Of course Tezuka knows that he won the US and Australian Opens, but it seems Echizen has come back to Japan and is playing some kind of minor tournament. They are showing pictures of Echizen grabbing the peak of his white baseball cap with that sullen look of his. It is so familiar an image that it almost hurts.
Well, perhaps it does hurt. Just a little.
Tezuka caresses his left shoulder with his right hand, almost wistfully. Each time he sees Echizen Ryoma in the sports news - and lately that has been happening a lot - he remembers his third year in Jr. High School and the way all his dreams seemed to become a reality. It was painful, and he had to walk a long and rocky road, but he does not regret anything.
Well, perhaps he does, but he would never admit it in front of anyone. If there is something he regrets, that is pushing Echizen away when he was offered to play the US Open six years ago. He would do the same again, because that was what had to be done. But Tezuka had wanted to go to the Nationals with the whole team, and Echizen was part of that team. He knew Echizen had wanted to come along, too. It was too easy to understand the kid because he was so similar to Tezuka himself.
Tezuka hears a small sigh and snorts when he realizes it was his own. For a kid that spent only six months with them, he changed their lives considerably. Tezuka thinks that not one of the regular members of that year's tennis team has been able to forget Echizen. And it is, at the very least, surprising. There have been other people coming into Tezuka's life, staying far longer than Echizen did, and leaving again, and Tezuka will hardly spare a thought for them. But it is different with Echizen Ryoma. The small tennis player probably was a catalyst, inspiring them to fight with all their might and to make their dreams come true. Well, that was what being Seigaku's Pillar of Support meant, after all. And the kid lived up to that title. And while it is really a shame that he walked out of their lives because of the US Open, it is no use crying over spilt milk, so to speak.
The phone rings and Tezuka startles slightly. He reaches for the receiver after lowering the TV's volume.
"Tezuka," he says curtly, his eyes still glued to the screen where Echizen seems to be having a hard time facing the cameras and the fans. He has always been a shy kid, after all. Echizen's troubled face almost makes Tezuka smile.
"He's back," says a deep voice on the other side of the telephone. It is a voice Tezuka knows well enough to identify its owner even though he has not even introduced himself. But why that person cares about Echizen - because he is obviously talking about him -, is something that escapes Tezuka's comprehension.
Then again, it is hard to reckon the length of Echizen's influence, as he has noticed already.
"Yes, he is." Tezuka does not ask why the other is interested or what the phonecall is about. He is not the kind to ask such things. Besides, he knows he will find out sooner or later.
"Aren't you going to see him?"
The harmless question manages to annoy him, and Tezuka frowns. There is no reason for it to annoy him, but there it is, a hot and frustrating feeling in the pit of his stomach. However, he refuses to give in and wonder about - or even acknowledge - that unpredictable reaction.
"I have no reason to. It's been six years, I don't play tennis anymore and he beat me, anyway. It's over." Tezuka feels that he is talking too much. There was no need to go that far. He raises his hand and presses two fingers against his right temple. He can feel a headache coming.
"You are twenty and you still think that it's all about tennis, aah?"
"Atobe..."
If there is a warning in Tezuka's low tone of voice, Atobe Keigo chooses to ignore it.
"Are you going to waste another chance?" There is a soft laugh and Tezuka thinks that he will be able to see Atobe's smug smile if he only closes his eyes. He does not answer, though. He will not be so easily taunted. "Well, it's okay with me," comes Atobe's voice after a short while. "I just thought that I should warn you. He is not the only one that's back."
Tezuka raises an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
There is another laughter. His old friend is surely enjoying this. Well, Tezuka cannot blame him. There aren't many chances to push his buttons, after all, so it is understandable that Atobe takes advantage of this one.
"I'm so not missing any of it. It's going to be fun. Keep your eyes open, Tezuka."
With that, Atobe hangs up and Tezuka puts his phone down, looking back at the screen. The tennis news seem to be over and now there is some famous soccer player speaking at a press conference. Tezuka switches the television off and runs his left hand through his unrully brown hair thoughtfully, sighing somehow in defeat: Atobe's words are definitely bothering him. That cannot be a good omen.
Developing photographs has always been a relaxing task. The smell of the chemicals that some people find disgusting makes Fuji Syuusuke feel at home. Then again, he has always had weird tastes. Liking the smell of the chemicals used to develop photos or the taste of things that make other people wince - or retch, at that - like Inui's juices or the infamous wasabi sushi, has always been Fuji's personal signature. That his friends when he was a kid understood and respected Fuji's weird tastes, only proves that children are more open-minded and more proficient at the difficult task of getting used to things than adults. Fuji has read about that. There are plenty of scientific studies that prove that children can get over situations that would probably manage to break an adult.
Then again, Fuji is not sure where the line between a child and an adult is drawn. Or how much it takes for a child to be broken. Because as flexible as they seem to be, they also have a point of inflection and if they are pushed too far, children can also lose it. One just has to take a look at some Psychology book to find a thousand severe cases of infantile trauma, after all.
Fuji carefully observes the image appearing in the photographic paper that he is holding firmly with the specially padded pegs and it makes him wonder if, rather than plain professional deformity, isn't the expression he has seen in Echizen's face during today's match what has triggered all of this thinking. It is not only the expression, but the violence in his playstyle and the haunted look in his eyes. A look that hasn't been hard to identify, since Fuji is used to see it in his own eyes whenever he opens them in front of a mirror. And the dark violence in Echizen's motions seems to show that he does not play tennis just to enjoy himself anymore - although Echizen was clearly enjoying his match, at least at the beginning -, but, rather, as a means to get something else.
But Fuji is probably seeing things and thinking too much. He has not seen Echizen for six years, and his tennis was bound to grow stronger and harsher, so it is not really strange that the kid is now a killer in the court. Fuji wonders how long will it take for the press to find a suitable nickname for the American genius. Like father, like son, he thinks with a hint of amusement. If the father was a 'Samurai', the son is surely a 'Shinigami', the way he bluntly defeats every player he faces.
Fuji leaves the last photo to dry and gives it an interested look. He has taken plenty of them during today's match. It was really enlightening, being able to see Echizen's play so close again after so many years. There is very little left of the kid he knew when he was in Jr. High and Fuji still has not been able to decide whether the change is good or not. This Echizen is wild, he is a cyclone, very much like the smash he used to hit when he was a kid and that pales considerably in comparison with his new techniques. The new Echizen aims to win without a concern about anything else, and his strong will overwhelms his opponents.
It is exciting, in Fuji's opinion. If he was looking for a challenge, he just got himself one. And so timely, too.
But that is not all. There is also a genuine curiosity about the younger tennis player. Fuji can't help but wonder what has prompted those changes in Echizen and if they are only related to tennis. And not only that. In all honesty, Echizen's fluid movements and the dark aura surrounding him have excited Fuji in more than one way. It took some minutes, after the end of the match, for his heart to stop the crazy beating. He even found himself short of breath, even though he was not doing any kind of exercise.
Either Fuji is a sicko - and that is a very likely possibility - or there is some kind of violently sexual halo around Echizen. It has nothing to do with the teen being good looking - even though he has grown to become a very attractive man, the armies of female fans that follow him around the world are proof enough of that -, it is more about the attitude, the way he looks at people, the challenge shining in those golden eyes, the elegant but lazy way in which he moves his body when he is not playing that becomes voluptuously predatory when he is. Fuji wonders whether Echizen is even aware of these things or blissfully oblivious. If this was the Echizen he knew six years ago, he would already know the answer, but this new Echizen is a total stranger.
That thought, instead of making Fuji feel sad, brings a greedy smile to his lips. Getting to know Echizen again can be an even more interesting challenge than just beating him at tennis. Suddenly, life has taken a turn for the better.
Please! If you read all the way here, leave a review to give me fuel! Thanks