Title: Culpability

Author: Aishuu

Fandom: Prince of Tennis

Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei, manga-ka.

Challenge: non-song songfic - expanded

Notes: The song used is "I Still Believe" by Tim Cappello. This was originally for the "non-song songfic" challenge for temps mort, but when my beloved Arc expressed a rather large interest in it, I expanded it, so it's no longer a timed fic. Also, the lyrics are no longer as important. And it's Yamato/Tezuka.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He felt like he had been in a cave when he was told about what had happened to Tezuka. It was something that everyone else had known, and apparently was old news, but he had been so busy with his classes that he hadn't been paying attention to what had been going on in the middle school – he should have been.

He knew it was his fault.

It had been a spark from him that had began to light the way for Tezuka. He had been the one to set Tezuka Kunimitsu on the path to this, to destroying himself.

Tezuka had been special from the very beginning; he had seen that. The first day of his senior year, he had turned his shaded eyes to the first years, trying to inspect what kind of talent they had coming up. Seigaku hadn't had a winning team in a while, and he knew that this year, too, would be one of rebuilding.

He wasn't sure for how long they'd been saying "Maybe next year" but he was determined that this time, it would be true. However, he needed to have something to work with.

There were only fifteen first years joining the club, a sign of how far the club had fallen. When he had joined, there had been thirty – but first years only wanted to join winning teams. The prestige of Seigaku was sinking, and the good players were moving to Hyotei. Hyotei was the team to beat in Tokyo now, not Seigaku.

Ryuuzaki saw his worried look as he studied his shrinking team. "We have some good talent this year," she said. "It's quality, not quantity, buchou, that matters." Her smile looked like a cat that had gotten into the cream as she walked over to the third years.

He walked over to the first years, trying to decide which ones his coach had been referring to. They all looked so small – and one was even wearing glasses. But that was the one who caught his attention.

There was something about the boy, a confidence that made him stand above his peers. The boy gave his name as Tezuka Kunimitsu, and said that he had some experience playing.

Some! If Tezuka had "some" experience, then he really wanted to see what "a lot" was. Tezuka was better than anyone Seigaku had, good enough to take on the third years and win. Like everyone else, he couldn't help but follow the progress of the light that was blazing beneath them, but unlike most of them, he didn't resent being defeated. In Tezuka, he saw the future of tennis – Tezuka was something bigger than he was, something better.

He had never been more proud to lose.

But he was captain, and couldn't say anything. He had to keep the team's respect, and in making the decision not to praise Tezuka for his skill, he let the first year down. It was his biggest mistake.

The next day, Tezuka was attacked.

He had always realized that Takesue had a devilish temper, but he had never expected him to actually strike another out of anger. He wasn't there to see the blow actually land, but he knew what had happened, because the others told him about it after. He had only seen Takesue facing off with Tezuka, and known that the thread had finally snapped when Tezuka had offered his resignation.

He was a poor captain. He had let down the one who needed him most.

The only thing he could do was keep Tezuka playing, keep him from abandoning the talent which was so beautiful and sometimes terrifying to watch. He said the first thing that came to his mind, challenging Tezuka to become the support of the team...

He had no clue what he meant then, but something inside of Tezuka seemed to ignite, and as he stared down into the light brown eyes, he suddenly saw passion for a game which had just been about skill before.

Amazingly, he had made Tezuka care about Seigaku. He had no clue how he had managed it, but the next day, Tezuka had been on the courts again, playing harder than ever, seeming to burn from the inside.

He should have noticed that Tezuka's injury was more severe than any of them thought – if he had, and made Tezuka seek medical attention, perhaps it wouldn't have happened the way it did.

He was to blame.

The night he found out about the Hyotei game, and Tezuka's ruined shoulder, he had wanted give in to the tears that had threaten to overwhelm him. No one was going to accuse him of the crime, but he knew his sin too well to deny it. But crying wasn't going to solve anything, and Tezuka wouldn't have respected him, had he given in to the temptation to break down. Not that he deserved the respect of a boy who was so much higher than he could ever hope to be.

He had problems sleeping that night, trying to accept the fact that it was likely Tezuka would never play tennis again. Tezuka had always been a bright and shining thing, one who defeated even him when he had been captain, but now that perfection had been cracked and left alone, as though no more than a dream.

He lay flat on his back, staring at the wall in front of him. The picture was of a vessel out at sea, one which he usually found relaxing, but that night, he felt himself being drawn in, and it was hard to breathe. It was melodramatic, but he wondered if the darkness that surrounded him in his normally comfortable bedroom was going to envelop him whole.

He had to accept what had happened, but all he could see was a mental picture of Tezuka, on the ground, wincing as he clenched his ruined shoulder.

It wasn't real, he knew, but it may have well as been.

It was the third night after he found out that he received a message on his cell phone. It was one he hadn't been expecting. It was short and cryptic, but he understood.

I'm leaving for Germany soon. I'll be at the court at 9 tonight.

He didn't have to ask who it was from – and he knew he would go.

He went out on his own, walking the streets toward the school, looking at the empty faces of the strangers that he met. None of them seemed to be familiar, even though a few of them called his name. He wanted to go home and avoid the impending encounter – he didn't know how to apologize to someone whose life he had destroyed, however inadvertently.

He lived close to the middle school, and the tennis court brought back memories of his day with the team. He had had some of his best years here, even though they had never done anywhere near as well as the team had under Tezuka's leadership. Tezuka was a real captain – he had been a failure.

He heard the sound of balls being hit, and wondered who was still there with Tezuka. As he rounded the final turn, his jaw dropped.

Tezuka... was playing.

He had forgotten how Tezuka had once used his right hand so expertly, but now, under the light of the courts, Tezuka stood, staring in determination as he served the ball. From the balls scattered around, it was clear he had been practicing for a while.


What did he feel? the former captain wondered as he stared at the tennis prodigy. Tezuka... was still...

And then Tezuka smiled slightly as he caught sight of his idol. "Yamato-buchou," he said, and there was no blame, no recrimination, simply pleasure at seeing his former mentor. "I'm glad you could make it."

What did I know? he wondered, staring as Tezuka wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. For people like him, there's nothing except tennis.... and I had forgotten. Tezuka is the pillar of Seigaku, and I should never have believed he would resent me for any of it.

He didn't say anything as Tezuka walked toward him, now the same height as he was. When Tezuka finally reached him, he noticed a slight glimmer in Tezuka's eyes. To his surprise, Tezuka bowed low, an inferior to a superior. "I'm sorry I couldn't win it... but I played my best. I have no regrets," Tezuka said, his voice low and soft, but full of... not pride, but content.

He had made this man – and Tezuka was a man, he could see. He wanted to say so much, to tell Tezuka of the mistakes he had made, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he reached out to raise Tezuka upright, and say what Tezuka most needed to hear.

"I still believe in you."

END