Author: Aishuu

Title: Pyrite

Fandom: Tennis no Oujisama

Challenge: Epiphany

Rating: PG

Pairing: Light O/K

Type: Angst

Time: Approximately 30 minutes (untimed – forgot, sorry)

Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei

Note: Spoilers for Genius 203. I blame Monnie for this one.

There is never comfortable silence between the Golden Pair – always Kikumaru is chattering, and always there is the feeling of something imminent, as though he is afraid of what the silence might hold for them.

Oishi doesn't notice, always too occupied with listening to his partner babble about the weather or his tests, their next tennis game or whatever springs to his mind. And Oishi will listen, because that is what Oishi does.

Perhaps that is why they are called the Golden Pair, because they seem to fit so well – one gives, the other receives. They are good friends, everyone knows, because they spend so much time together and can talk about anything.

Kikumaru always talks about inconsequential things, things that don't really matter. He doesn't talk about his home life, but rather of the things around him. To many, he is a shallow and selfish person, unable to see beyond his own face, his own surroundings. He is cheerful and nice, but there's not much to him, not really.

Oishi knows better. Oishi has seen Kikumaru stop and give a crying young girl the Valentine Day candy he was gifted with to cheer her, he has seen his partner glare and clench his teeth with frustration on the court, seen him struggle with assignments that he just couldn't understand. Kikumaru's not stupid, but he does have math problems – something Oishi wonders if his partner is dyslexic, and thinks about questioning him.

But he doesn't ask.

Sometimes Oishi tries to think of Kikumaru in five years, in ten, and he cannot. He cannot imagine his partner any older than the cheerful fourteen he is now. He knows that Tezuka will be his friend throughout his life, and he can imagine visiting Inui and borrowing his notes as they go to Seishun University, but he draws a blank trying to imagine Kikumaru Eiji by his side.

The future is uncertain. He knows that better than anyone.

Kikumaru is a creature of the present, and there is a joy in him that is thrilling to watch, yet sometimes it seems fleeting. Trying to hold onto him would be a crime, like trying to capture a snowflake in warm hands, Oishi knows. Trying to pin him down with promises isn't his right.

Until the day I defeat you... I'll play doubles with you....

It's such a tenuous promise, both of them know. Oishi knows that Kikumaru is far better than he is now, yet they haven't played singles in nearly a year. Both are scared of the outcome, perhaps.

But that day will come.

There are certain lines they don't dare cross. There are certain things they don't talk about to each other, because they don't know how the other will react. Ah-un synchronization only works on the court – off court is another matter.

When something is bothering Oishi, he calls Tezuka, so far away in Germany. Tezuka listens, as Kikumaru doesn't. He doesn't doubt that Kikumaru would – he just doesn't want to burden him.

Kikumaru, too, doesn't talk about the important things. When something is truly bothering him, it isn't to Oishi he turns, but to Fuji, who doesn't treat him like a child. Oishi knows this happens, but doesn't make an effort to stop it. Perhaps he wants to keep the image of the carefree and determined Kikumaru in his mind, and pretend he doesn't see the pain that every human knows lingering in Eiji's eyes.

Together on the court they are unbeatable, the Golden Pair. That is the tie that binds them, the reason they exist as friends. And that is all that matters – right?

Kikumaru believes in dreams, and Oishi is a practical creature. Kikumaru believes that if they work hard, things will be okay, and Oishi can't help but be pulled along with his enthusiasm.

But all things change.

The sun is setting that day, and somehow or other Kikumaru and Oishi are the last ones left in the locker room. It is not unusual – Oishi has to lock up, and Kikumaru intends to keep him company for the walk home.

Kikumaru is thinking of the impending Kantou Tournament. "Are you worried about Kantou?" he asks, swinging his feet idly as he sits on a bench.

"We'll do fine," Oishi assures his partner. The words are empty, a platitude, but he's used to offering them to the team.

"Really? Inui looked a bit sick today. I mean, aside from looking like he's sampled too much of his juice," Kikumaru said, sounding uncharacterically thoughtful.

"We'll make it," Oishi said. "Tezuka is expecting it."

Kikumaru gave him a smile, but it didn't seem to come from the heart. "And after?"

"After what? Kantou? We go to Nationals, of course," Oishi replied, not really paying attention as he checked the tennis balls and nets to make sure they were stored properly.

"No..." Kikumaru took a deep breath, and waded into unknown waters. "After after."

"High school."

"After," Kikumaru said, staring at him with blue eyes that seemed sharp. He is finally asking the question they have always danced around, and now Oishi cannot avoid it.

Oishi turned to look at his partner, about to say something about how they'd always be the Golden Pair, but the words dried up in his throat. He has never lied to Kikumaru.

"I... I don't know."

"What do you want to be, when you grow up?" Kikumaru asked suddenly.

Oishi doesn't know. Kikumaru shrugs and smiles helplessly, putting his hands behind his head. "You don't want to be a tennis player, do you?"

Helplessly Oishi shakes his head, and Kikumaru sighs. Together they look for something – anything – to say, but realize they have nothing to talk about.