Title: Spiral
Chapter: Chapter 3 - Mistakes
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: I would like to thank Czar for beta'ing this and fixing all my grammar quirks. You would like to thank her, too, because she made this a lot clearer XD

SPIRAL
By Datenshi Blue

Chapter 3 - Mistakes

"I told you," Tezuka thought. He didn't say a single word, though; it was not his place to say something like that. He even felt kind of guilty for thinking it in the first place. After all, Fuji was one of his best friends and he had to support him, not rebuke him. But he had seen it coming for a long time and it exasperated him that Fuji, being the prodigy that he was supposed to be, couldn't foresee something like that.

Tezuka kept quiet, looking intently at the smaller boy, who was even paler than usual and with unequivocal signs in his face of having endured a painfully sleepless night. "Dammit, I told you," Tezuka wanted to say. He knew he should probably reach out at that moment and embrace his friend. He could see that Fuji needed a hug more than anything else. However, lately Tezuka had hid behind a cheap excuse that made it easier not to get involved with his friend. Now, he was intent on using that poor justification to save himself from some bitter pain. They weren't together anymore, so any kind of physical contact was always awkward. It was easier to assume that Fuji wouldn't welcome a hug rather than facing either the sudden weakness of this usually strong man or an excruciating rejection.

The first option was painful because despite his fragile appearance, Fuji was one of the strongest persons Tezuka knew. Fuji was the kind of person that was always collected; the kind of person that used smiles as weapons. They had known each other for so long that Fuji's strength was a certainty in Tezuka's life. It might sound stupid, but a weak Fuji would break his heart.

The second one was even more painful because even though Tezuka had found out some time ago that he had never really been in love with Fuji, he loved him all the same.

So he stayed there, in silence, looking at his friend, totally lost for the first time in his life, unable to decide which step to take, what words to say. Fuji was looking at him as if waiting for something to happen. He must have seen nothing was going to change, because he suddenly smiled, a carefree grin flying toward Tezuka like an arrow, hurting him deeply and making him look away.

"Bye, then," Fuji said, and turned around, not even waiting for an answer.

Tezuka wanted to make him stop. It would be so easy to just reach out and grab his arm and pull him close, gluing his chest to Fuji's smaller back, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and kissing him just above his ear, whispering that everything would be all right. But Tezuka wasn't that kind of guy. He just wasn't that kind of guy. And neither was he in love with Fuji. Such a shameless behaviour was therefore absolutely out of the question.

"Fuji!"

The so-called prodigy stopped and looked at him over his shoulder. His undying smile was still on his lips as if trying to belie the shadows under his eyes that were shouting to the world that not everything was right.

"What are you going to do?" Tezuka asked, his voice sounding a little too taut for his liking.

Fuji shrugged. Tilting his head to the side to take a better look at Tezuka, he said only one word:

"Leave."

Then his smile widened as if asking "what else?" and he walked away.

Europe.

It had taken Tezuka several months to find out where Fuji had gone. He had tried asking Yumiko, Fuji's sister, lots of times, but she kept saying that she didn't know Syuusuke's whereabouts and, in fact, had asked him to let her know if he found out something. He avoided asking Yuuta because he knew if there was someone Fuji would never tell, it would be his little brother. Even now, Fuji would protect him over anyone or anything else.

When he had questioned Kikumaru - he and Fuji had been classmates and close friends until they went their separate ways after they finished high school - the redhead had been surprised to hear about the whole story. Not only had Fuji not told him that he was going to leave Japan, he didn't even know the reason why he might choose to leave.

The answer came from someone Tezuka would have never guessed had a close relationship with Fuji.

Atobe Keigo.

Tezuka had felt cheated. Fuji was probably his best friend, but Tezuka had never known about his relationship with the captain of the rival tennis club. Atobe was Tezuka's friend to a certain extent, too, and he had never talked about Fuji. That, and also the fact that Atobe Keigo knew where Fuji had gone and why, made him feel betrayed. The whole thing had been nonsense; a lot of conflicting feelings that had complicated Tezuka's life for some time, and that had made him isolate himself from the world, allowing himself to concentrate only on his law studies. Something that had led him to end up where he is now.

Well, not literally, Tezuka thinks, looking around at the modern and minimalist - but obviously expensive - furniture of the room and the gigantic plasma TV hanging from the wall just in front of him. Rather, the way he is living his life right now: his own apartment, a nice job, a promising future.

But also the guilt of having let Fuji down, the cold emptiness of his absence, the utter pain of his loss.

It took him some time to realize that he had been jealous of Atobe, of his closeness with Fuji, and the trust Fuji had placed in him. It took him even longer to realize that he had been the one to push Fuji away the very moment he came to him, aching for understanding, and Tezuka had been unable to offer him any help. Tezuka has no one else but himself to blame for all of this, and it makes him wonder now how many of the decisions he has made all through his life have been as wrong as the ones concerning Fuji.

There is also a part of him that wonders if he can do anything to make it all better. But it is probably too late now. Lately, it always seems to be too late. Tezuka doesn't know when time started running like this, slipping through his fingers while he tries to hold it back, disappearing even before he knows it, giving him multiple chances that he keeps missing because he has always been a little too stubborn.

"Tezuka. I'm sorry I made you wait."

Tezuka gets to his feet and turns slightly toward the door. Atobe Keigo smiles as he enters the room. His slate grey hair is damp and dripping all over the crimson sweater he is wearing. There is a faint scent of roses coming from him and Tezuka finds himself warming up at the familiar fragrance.

"Not at all. I'm sorry I dropped by without notice," he says, hiding behind perfect politeness and bowing slightly. Judging by Atobe's unusually messy appearance, he has probably interrupted something.

Atobe laughs and shakes his head softly, taking a seat opposite Tezuka and gesturing for him to sit down as well. He had almost missed the slow and polite game of communicating with Tezuka Kunimitsu. It is like a careful dance, a succession of subtle steps that get you near your prey and make you back away after the hit is delivered, but before it is noticed. Nevertheless, this is Tezuka's game, which is why getting anything from him always becomes a matter of endurance. Atobe enjoys this game, but he knows that a fishing lover like Tezuka has developed a real talent to play it. After all, it requires a lot of skill and patience to get the other person to take the bait and talk about the things one really wants to hear. And, even though Atobe loves a challenge, he has never been a patient man.

"Tezuka," he drawls, a cocky smile still relaxing his face. "You know you don't need an invitation to pay me a visit. You are always welcome. Tea?" It is a simple but warm welcome, intended to lower his friend's defenses.

"Thank you." Tezuka refuses to relax. Atobe's usual subtle hit-and-run makes him stand on guard, watching out for his attacks. Atobe has always had a way with words while Tezuka has always been stoic and to-the-point. Those are just two different kinds of leadership and it is a fact that both of them work.

Atobe speaks to the young maid standing next to the table, and she leaves after giving them a respectful bow.

"To tell the truth, I wondered how long it would take you to come here," the slightly older young man says, a playful smile dancing on his lips. Atobe makes a pause before deciding he is going to try to bring the game to his ground. "I was expecting you yesterday."

Tezuka almost snorts. He should be already used to Atobe's provocations after being friends with him for so long, but by the way that simple remark stings, it seems he is just not. Too many years of rivalry stand between them. It takes a lot of his will to just raise one eyebrow sarcastically instead of glaring in response. He also crosses his legs, finding some comfort in the little motion.

Tezuka follows the movement of Atobe's long fingers combing through his wet hair and waits patiently. He doesn't want to give in to Atobe so soon. Yes, it is true that he came here and that in itself gives his friend the advantage. Tezuka wonders not for the first time if he isn't taking things a little too personally. What's wrong with just asking what he has come to ask and then move on?

Pride.

But pride is a privilege he doesn't know he still has the right to maintain. Not when Fuji and Echizen are going to be the topic of this conversation. And not when there are a lot of unanswered questions that he didn't dare to ask a long time ago. And especially not when he still doesn't know if the answers are going to have long-term effects on him.

Fuji, and Echizen. And Atobe.

It is all way too complicated. And Tezuka, despite what other people think about him, has always been a simple man. He cared about tennis. He cared about Echizen. He cared about Atobe. He got involved with Fuji.

He wanted to do his best, yet he made a lot of wrong decisions.

But he was a just kid; you can't hold all of that against a fourteen-year-old. Despite always looking older than his age, he was still a kid and reacted like a kid.

He was so transparent, and it was so easy to see what he hid in his heart that he is still amazed nobody noticed.

Ever since Echizen arrived at the club, Tezuka had changed. He couldn't help but see the huge potential in Echizen's play. It looked as if the boy had been breathing tennis ever since he was born, and that had probably been true. Until that moment, the only person able to get to Tezuka's heart had been Fuji. Right, Oishi was a close friend as well, but there was something about him, and the way he fitted in with Kikumaru, as if there was a physical although invisible link between them, that made Tezuka feel uncomfortable when around him. It made him feel like apologizing to Kikumaru for taking too much of Oishi's heart. He had always thought such a perfect partnership meant there was something else going on between the Golden Pair, and not just your typical friendship.

That kind of thinking had made him wonder about his own preferences. He had easily accepted the thought - he didn't have any proof, after all - of a romantic relationship between Oishi and Kikumaru. He knew it wasn't the norm, and not everybody would see it as something right, but he knew the two boys, he had seen part of their hearts, and within his own heart, he knew they probably had been made for each other. What was wrong with love? Tezuka doubted a girl could have been able to give any of them what they were getting from each other in the measure they were getting it: understanding, laughs, tennis, confidence, trust, intimacy, complicity, support, shared dreams.

The most important thing for Tezuka had been tennis. Tennis meant everything; he had thought at the time that there wouldn't be anything left for him, if not tennis. He didn't have time to look at girls or even to be aware of their existence. The excitement tennis brought to his life was enough to keep his whole attention. So Tezuka hadn't really been surprised when he tried to look into his own heart only to see that it raced when Fuji, the person he considered the closest to a rival, appeared way too close, challenging him with closed eyes and huge grins, waiting patiently for the moment they would be able to face each other and come up with an answer about who was a better player. Tezuka wasn't sure that question had a real answer. Fuji never took anything seriously, so it was hard to know where his limits were. He was the kind of player that played to his opponent's strength, saving his power to match his adversary's. It was hard to say what his true potential was. It was even harder to predict the way they would change after playing each other seriously.

Fuji, too, seemed to find a dark pleasure in startling Tezuka, appearing when he was least expected and dropping piercing remarks that made Tezuka's heart beat faster for some unknown reason. He didn't really know what all of that meant, although he was starting to get the idea. He hadn't known how he really felt, if he was serious or not, but he found himself thinking more than once that he would like to push Fuji against the wall and wipe that grin from his lips with a harsh kiss.

And Echizen's arrival had changed it, making everything worse.

The rookie was good. There were a lot of holes in his playstyle, but he was still a first year. One that learnt fast, at that. Tezuka didn't miss the fact that his last name was Echizen, just like the last name of the most brilliant tennis star that Japan gave to the world: Echizen Nanjiroh, the Samurai. Echizen is a common name in Japan, so it wouldn't have meant anything if not because it was obvious that Ryoma's playstyle was a copy of his father's. Tezuka soon considered his responsibility to make Echizen evolve, find his own style and shine with his own light.

Somewhere along the way, he realized he also wanted some other not-so-innocent things from the kid.

There was another missing piece in the whole puzzle. Atobe Keigo. Tezuka had known the boy for several years. The violent and definite way he played tennis always made his breath catch. Atobe was good, that was a given. Only someone good would be able to keep his place at the top of a 200 members tennis club. But he wasn't good just at tennis. He had an attractive personality that drew people to him the way Tezuka's Zone drew balls to his racket during a match.

And Tezuka hadn't been an exception, which is why he freely gave his shoulder to Atobe during that fateful game. He did it for Ryoma, he did it for Atobe and he did it for himself. He didn't do it for his team, although everyone thought that his real purpose was inspiring his teammates.
The truth is that Tezuka deserved a real challenge, someone who would stand up to him, who would be good enough to make him sweat a victory. He had badly beaten Echizen some days earlier, and he wasn't ready to face Fuji yet because that would change a lot of things between them. So Atobe would have to do. He didn't know the other captain would go so far as to destroy his shoulder, but at the time he didn't mind. It was all right.

The pain was worth it. It was worth the haunted look in Atobe's eyes - when he realized what was happening and that Tezuka wouldn't back out, and that he was going to end up wearing the weight of such an important injury on his shoulders, even if Tezuka would have never blamed him for it. It was also worth the worry in his face, the long fingers closing around his own hand to raise it, sharing the moment of glory once everything was over. The rushed beating of his heart, the sudden heat in his face, the sweat covering their bodies, the cheering of the audience, the electric shock that ran through his body when Atobe's eyes looked at him filled with respect.

It was all blurred by the memory of an unbearable pain spreading through his whole arm and part of his back, but it left him with the distinct impression of having shared far more than just a game of tennis with the other boy. He remembers having seen Atobe, Hyotei's king, hiding, frustrated, behind a towel, almost ashamed. It hadn't been the match Atobe had wanted, after all, but it was too late to change it, and it was good enough to see him so devastated at being the cause of his pain. Because that meant Atobe cared.

It was just as good to see Echizen's eyes looking at him, wide and glowing with adoration and badly concealed fear. It also was good to see a worried Fuji standing by him, caring for him and spending a lot of time with him. During Tezuka's hiatus in Frankfurt, Fuji had also called him almost every night to tell him with his soft, nearly effeminate voice stories about the tennis team, and also things that didn't make much sense, thoughts that were complicated and obscure and that made Tezuka discover a totally different - although not really unexpected - and exciting side to the younger boy.

Tezuka wonders if Fuji had known about his confused feelings. He was a genius, not only regarding tennis, but also at reading people.

Yes, Fuji had probably known about them, which means that he had also known that he was in for a lot of pain if he succeeded at seducing Tezuka. But Fuji has always had a knack for complicated relationships.

"You are definitely thinking too hard, naa, Tezuka?" Atobe's voice startles him and he realizes his mind has been drifting. Tezuka runs his fingers through his hair and leans back into his chair.

"You know why I am here."

Atobe's smile becomes conceited even as he stands up, walking towards his desk. It is a plain and practical piece of furniture that's standing against the wall, near the French doors that lead into a balcony. Everything about this house, or rather mansion, talks about class, money and elegance. Atobe is the heir of an empire; he doesn't just look like it.

Tezuka stares while Atobe opens a drawer and retrieves a folder he brings back to the table with him. The young man stands by Tezuka's side and just as he puts the folder down in front of him, they are interrupted by some soft knocks on the door. Without waiting for an answer, the young maid enters the room and places a silver tray with tea and cookies in an auxiliary table next to them. Then she bows again and disappears swiftly.

"What is this?" Tezuka holds the folder in one hand.

Atobe shrugs and serves two cups of tea. Afterwards, he sits down by Tezuka's side, instead of returning to his place in front of him.

"The Atobe Financial Group is one of the main sponsors of the Miyako Cup. As you probably know, the Miyako Cup is a newly created tennis tournament for pros and newcomers. It doesn't belong to the ATP, the professional circuit, so it is hard to get well-known pros to play it. Everybody knows it's going to take some time for it to take off, but it will happen eventually. Echizen Ryoma's participation this year has given a lot of good press to the tournament. It seems it has attracted the attention of a lot of important players now. And they say tennis isn't about fads..." Atobe's voice oozes sarcasm for a moment. "It also takes place right before the Roland Garros, so it might be considered a good training ground for players that want to compete in the French Open."

Tezuka opens the folder. As one of the main sponsors, it's obvious that the Atobe Financial Group has a lot of inside information about the tournament. Not only figures, costs and profits, but also close information on the players that will be fighting for the cup. Tezuka wouldn't be surprised if they had even the right to veto certain players from participating. Inside the folder, there is a cover and a printed sheet of paper with the tournament's logo and sponsors that Tezuka discards with a slow motion. Next, he finds the complete list of participants ordered alphabetically. He easily finds "Echizen, Ryoma" among the names. And just a few lines later, he can see one "Fuji, Syuusuke".

"So that's how you knew," Tezuka says, calmly, refusing to give in to the shock of finding out in these circumstances that Fuji has suddenly decided to go pro. At least, the fact that the only reason Atobe knows that Fuji is back is the inside information he has on the tournament makes him feel better. After all, once the tournament is about to start, anyone can find a list of players easily. There is probably one posted at the Tokyo Dome entrance.

Atobe crosses his legs, smiling smugly, but says nothing. The truth is that he has kept the contact with Fuji during the time he has spent in Europe. And, as far as he knows, Fuji hasn't kept in touch with anyone else, not even his older sister, since his intention was to put distance between himself and his family. Talking to Fuji frequently has been an unexpected pleasure, something Atobe has gotten easily used to during the last year. He finds Fuji an interesting character. He is a complex person, with very unique ideas, an almost mysterious personality and a witty - and often dangerous - sense of humour. But those are things he found out a long time ago, when he first got acquainted with the youth. All of that, but also the strength his seemingly fragile body holds and the shrewd intelligence behind his blue eyes dazzled him. It had been easy to fall for Fuji Syuusuke. Their opposite personalities and their different views of life, and also an undying love for tennis had brought them together.

For right or wrong, it didn't last. They were young and thoughtless and didn't care much about what people might think of their relationship. Fuji never gave a damn about other people, and Atobe was used to have his bidding done. But as it turned out, the heir to the Atobe Financial Group couldn't frolic around with his gay boyfriend. It was unsightly.

That wasn't the first time Keigo had to submit to his father's wishes, and it wouldn't be the last one. It only turned him more careful and astute. They say that for every law there is always a loophole, and Atobe Keigo has always been a resourceful person.

Tezuka is carefully reading Fuji's background information. There is nothing too personal, so Atobe is sure he is not going to find there any of the answers he is looking for, but Atobe holds his cup of tea with gentle hands, patiently waiting for the other boy to finish his reading. Or to finish sorting out his obviously confused thoughts. Atobe cannot blame him. Neither can he feel any pity. Tezuka pushed Fuji away with his own hands, whether he realized what he was doing or not.

"Where is Fuji?" Tezuka asks, finally. He is completely sure Atobe knows. And he is aware of the almost pathetic way in which he is giving in to Atobe's game, the way he is losing. But, suddenly, Fuji is too important for him to care about a tug-of-war game. He is too important to let his own pride get in the way again.

Atobe's smile disappears from his lips and he puts the cup of tea down.

"You know I can't tell you that."

"So you know."

Atobe leans back with a slightly exasperated motion.

"Of course ore-sama knows."

"That's not the only thing you know about..." Tezuka wants to say, but he won't. It's desperately evident that Atobe knows the reason why Tezuka hasn't got any news from Fuji since he decided to leave Japan. It makes him feel so ashamed he doesn't want to think about it.

There is also an almost physical pain at the thought of his apparently dead relationship with the person who was his best friend for years. That pain gets intertwined with the agony of having pushed Echizen Ryoma away when all he wanted was to motivate him, to own his heart. The words he never said to Fuji, I'm here for you, are mixed with the words he did say to Echizen, you can be Seigaku's Pillar of Support from afar...

Wrong decisions. Mistakes.

He doesn't know how he can make Atobe understand the pain he is feeling. They are grown-ups now; Tezuka has to keep his composure more than ever. He doesn't want to lose Atobe's respect. Atobe is all he has left of a time of dreams and hope; closing that door would kill the last traces of the Tezuka he once was, intent on making his dreams come true, supported by eight persons that would have trusted him with their lives if need aroused.

Tezuka's fingers are holding the sheets of paper so tightly that they are slightly trembling. Atobe can see his eyes are lost in some other time and place and he suddenly feels a rush of sympathy toward his friend. It's true that Tezuka hurt Fuji very deeply, but that was the way Tezuka was. Fuji should have known he couldn't change someone as disciplined as Tezuka. After all, it was in his blood, what with his grandfather being a judo instructor for the police and all. Tezuka had been raised with an iron hand, had breathed composure since he was born. It was only natural that he was as cold and controlled as he seemed to be. Fuji hadn't been enough to warm him up. Not even Atobe himself had been enough to warm him up. And he had tried.

"Tezuka."

The spectacled boy looks up at him, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"I can give you the chance to meet them. Both Echizen and Fuji," Atobe says slowly, his voice barely a rough inciting whisper that manages to make Tezuka's heart beat faster. Whether it is because of the chance he is being offered or because of the silky caress that dark voice has suddenly become, he doesn't know. Atobe definitely has a way with words, and his dark - sensual - voice has a lot to do with it.

Atobe takes another sip of tea before he glues his dark blue eyes to Tezuka's.

"There will be a gathering after the tournament is over. Something like a party for the press, so the sponsors and players will be there. Both Echizen and Fuji will be there. You too, if you want. You've got the chance; it's up to you to seize it, aah?"

Ryoma looks at the ceiling of his hotel room while laying down awake in the darkness. Fuji's visit several days ago, along with the realization that they are most likely going to be fighting for this tournament's trophy have unleashed a whirlwind of sensations within him. He is a little scared, only because having Fuji-senpai back in his tennis life brings back so many happy memories that Ryoma is afraid he is going to break down under their weight. He might have wanted to come back to Japan to find equilibrium, to get healed. He isn't sure now that this is going to be possible, considering how Fuji-senpai threw him off. What if he met, say, Momo-senpai? No. Echizen doesn't want to think about that.

He is a little scared, but he is also excited. He has had the chance to sit down through one of Fuji's games. The old Seigaku prodigy's tennis hasn't changed all that much. He still plays with confidence, hiding behind his poker face, his insanely big grin on his lips all the time. Actually that part is even worse than it used to be. Ryoma has seen Fuji losing his smile plenty of times. He even saw him suffering badly during a trying game against Kirihara, but that seems to have been eons ago. This Fuji didn't lose his smile once during the match, but that might have something to do with his opponent being a joke.

Echizen understands why nobody has talked about this new talent. Fuji still measures his opponent during the first minutes of a match, and plays to his limit. There is no fancy movements, no showing off, he seems to be only a slightly better tennis player than the person standing in the opposite court. Of course, Ryoma - and anyone that lives for tennis - can see he is a technician; the tennis theory has no secrets for him. And his control over the tennis ball is something out of this world, even to Ryoma's standards. Okay, perhaps not anyone can see that, considering how Fuji is still a blank mask, but he was exceedingly good at understanding tennis when he was but a kid and now that he has matured he might easily become one of the best players in the world.

Ryoma has reacted by drowning in his own training. He can't think of any counter for Fuji's attacks because he has seen none, but he has to think of new moves. Suddenly, nothing seems to be good enough. His coach has welcomed this change with delight. He probably thinks his lecture had some effect on Ryoma, because for several nights Ryoma hasn't even looked for a bed partner. He was too busy thinking about tennis.

But now he is awake, looking at the ceiling, cold sweat slowly drying on his forehead. He thought his mind was too set on Fuji-senpai and tennis to wander off, but it seems he was wrong. And tonight he has been seeing, and even worse, feeling the same old things all over again. Echizen wonders if he will end up going crazy, in case nothing changes. He could go to see some shrink and have his head fixed. But how can he talk about his mistakes to some stranger? How can he talk about the horrified look in his mother's eyes when she arrived home after a few days break just to find a macabre scene in Ryoma's bedroom?

It was Ryoga's fault. It was his brother's fault. That's the litany Ryoma repeats once and again, even though he knows it is nothing but a cheap excuse. Both of them were guilty for what happened. Ryoga was wild, and Ryoma was just too happy to go along with his older brother's ideas. In fact, it is true that it wasn't exactly right, but it shouldn't have ended like that.

Echizen Ryoga was the result of one of many of those affairs his father seemed to have loved indulging in. Apparently, when Nanjiroh arrived in the States, all he could think about was tennis and women, and not necessarily in that order. Ryoma can see the irony of it all; no matter the way he has always despised that lecherous behaviour, he is definitely following in his father's steps, except he doesn't care about women. It is men that make his world go round.

Ah, well, and he would choose tennis over sex anytime.

The only reason why his mother gave in to the idea of adopting Ryoga was because he had been born even before she had married Nanjiroh. Ryoma doesn't know if his father has ever cheated on his mother, but it wouldn't surprise him if he has. At least, Ryoga was not the product of many lies, but just a small mistake of a young heart, to use his father's words. Of course, Ryoma hadn't known this old story by the time he ran into Ryoga in that cruise during the only summer he spent in Japan. It was only years later, when Ryoga definitely came back home, that he had been told about the whole drama.

It seems Nanjiroh slept with some girl. The girl got pregnant but kept it a secret. Nanjiroh married Rinko. The girl died in a car accident and Nanjiroh was asked to take care of the kid. That was about it.

It had been a difficult time for five-year-old Ryoga, who saw his whole world go down and disappear in a puff of smoke. He loved tennis and it had been interesting at first to end up in that house where there was a tennis freak that would go out of his way to teach him. But the coldness he kept getting from the lady of the house to whom he kept refusing to call Mother, and the presence of that annoying and useless younger brother had made him run away.

Ryoma doesn't know - because he never dared to ask about it - why his parents didn't try to find Ryoga, or if they tried, how it is possible that they couldn't find a six-year-old runaway. Maybe things would have been different if they had grown up together. Maybe they would have been like real siblings.

Who knows.

Reality had different plans, in any case, and by the time Ryoga came back home, they were too old to be like real siblings. No, that wasn't exactly right. Age was the problem, indeed, but it wasn't as simple as that.

Ryoma rolls to his side, uncomfortably. He shouldn't allow his mind to keep wandering like this. Soon he is going to get to that windy afternoon when everything started. Ryoga had been back for several months already. It was the beginning of autumn, and the trees bordering their house's backyard were all showing different shades of red and yellow. There were fallen leaves and small rocks flying into the court continuously and the ball would bounce strangely on them making their game exciting and unpredictable.

The boys had placed a bet on the match. The loser would be the winner's slave for a week, and he would have to attend every little wish of his master. It wasn't the first time they placed such childish bets on training games. For instance, it had been refreshing to have Ryoga fulfilling every one of his wishes for a week, over a month earlier. But then their father suddenly appeared with private tennis coaches for them and they found themselves too busy with school and their own training schedule to be able to play each other. They had finally found some time to spend together and their intention had been to check if they were really improving, now that Nanjiroh wasn't training them anymore, but only watching over them. So they started playing that match.

It was an interesting game. The wind and the debris it carried into the court made the ball's behaviour capricious. It was hard to keep up with it, it was even worse than having the ball bounce on a wet court, but it was challenging and stimulating.

Ryoma ended up losing the game in the tie break.

Anyone could have won, it just happened that way.

Echizen shuts his eyes tightly and covers his head with the sheets, refusing to whisper an old and comforting mada mada dane. If he had been better, he wouldn't have had to do Ryoga's bidding. Nothing would have happened between them. Things would have been different, he would be able to sleep at night and concentrate on tennis, and would have never seen that horrified look in his mother's eyes. He would have never felt that dead weight on him.

A distressed moan breaks the silence. How childish can he get?

Ryoma sits up, taking a deep breath, and after some minutes, he moves toward the bathroom. He has had enough of memories for the night. He is not sure what time it is. The clouded sky beyond the window is still black, but he doesn't really mind. He's going to take a shower, and start training. There is no point on looking for someone who will help him sleep because the night is already ruined.

Ryoma wonders, not for the first time, what peace feels like. It has been so long since the last time he was able to sleep tightly that he doesn't even remember the feeling. It has something to do with dreams, emotions, and the warmth of the small body of his cat pressed against his side.

That starts another trail of thoughts. What is Karupin doing now? His mother took him with her when Ryoma was sent to the boarding school right after his parents' separation, and it goes without saying that he never spoke with her again after she gave him that horrified look that still haunts his dreams.

The warm water coming from the shower head is relaxing the tense muscles of his shoulders and loosening a tight knot within his throat. Or perhaps it is the thought of Karupin and the realization of how much he misses a pet he hasn't seen for the last three years. Ryoma moans again, wishing, absently, that he could give in to his emotions and let out the tears that are burning behind his eyes.

He slowly bends his knees, wrapping his arms around them, and stays crouched like that, his eyes completely dry under the warm water falling all over him.