Chapter 4
Wednesday Afternoon:
Ryoma, his face empty, gripped the doorframe. He'd put it off as long as possible, but the pressure low in his stomach had mounted to the point of pain. He took a deep breath and reluctantly limped into the bathroom.
His painful business done, Ryoma's discolored, swollen face stared back at him from the mirror. It seemed like everything – muscle soreness, sleep deprivation, injuries, and perhaps even emotion – always took two days to really hit. Well, day two had arrived with enmity in its heart.
The numbness that had suddenly deserted him this morning – he desperately wished it was back. His mouth quirked. Maybe that was all that it took. He closed his eyes, waiting for its blank comfort to cloak him like the cool night. A long moment passed, yet nothing seemed to happen.
He sighed. Inaction had become a theme, ever since… His life hung in limbo, and he had no urge to find a footpath. It was quite the contrary; to find a path meant to face it, and to face it meant pain.
Ryoma yawned. Sleep, on the other hand, meant relief. At night, control fell back into his hands. The dreamscape was his, and his alone. Nothing could harm him there if he didn't allow it. Sleep embodied his one escape from the memories that in wakefulness sought to drown him.
Memories…
Ryoma dropped his eyes to the gauze half-covered by his sleeve. Rolling back the inky fabric on his left arm, he unwound the bulky bandage from his hand and wrist. The final layer peeled grudgingly from his skin, sticky once with blood. Brown and dry now, he let it flutter into the sink.
Though grim as it should have been, the sight before him brought nothing. His wrist was chafed raw and pink, sore to the touch. Across his hand ran a thick, jagged cut encrusted with black blood. Clots bulged at the natural creases of his hand where the wound had bled afresh. "Hmm, probably needs stitches," he muttered to himself. After a short while of indifferent observation, he gathered up the old gauze and rewrapped his wrist and hand. Limping to the door, he pulled it open.
Ryoma halted abruptly. "Dad."
Nanjiroh dropped his fist from where it was about to knock. "Ryoma." He hesitated. "Um, your friends are here." He pointed over his shoulder with a thumb.
Ryoma's hand slipped from the door to his side as he slumped.
Nanjiroh hurried on, "But if you'd rather I just told them that you're too tired, I could do that."
Even in knowing that that kind of concerned offer from his dad was beyond abnormal, the twelve-year-old could muster no protest. "Thanks." Guilt twinged, but the relief was more potent.
"No problem." Nanjiroh moved to grip his shoulder; Ryoma flinched. His father hastily withdrew his hand, murmuring, "Sorry." With one last glance over his shoulder at his son's face, Nanjiroh headed downstairs.
Only moments, it seemed, after Ryoma had shut his bedroom door against the world, did he hear Momo's angry shout of, "Echizen!" Ryoma froze where he sat. Feet tore up the stairs, ignoring the chorus of, "Momo, NO!"
Ryoma's door was wrenched open, revealing his friend's flushed face. The freshman blinked. "Momo-senpai?" he asked mildly.
"Echizen!" the older boy cried in relief. He took a step into the room and hesitated, finally seeming to realize his faux pas. His dark eyes searched Ryoma's wan, bruised face, bare of all emotion.
Ryoma prompted, "Yes?" His rhyolite eyes then flicked past him, to the faces peering warily over the junior's shoulder.
"Senpai-tachi," Ryoma stated as tension crept into his shoulders. He closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to ask, "Is there something you wanted?"
Fuji called, "Just to see you." And see him they did – if possible, he looked worse than the last time they saw him.
Kikumaru pushed past Momo, plunking down on the bed beside Ryoma and chirping, "We missed you at practice today, Chibi!"
Ryoma recoiled. The senior winced in return, a hurt look blooming in his eyes that he tried to smother.
Nanjiroh called into the room, "Ryoma? Everything okay in there?"
The freshman inhaled carefully before answering, "Yeah, Dad." There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Echizen?" Momo ventured, still standing in the doorway. "Aren't you hot wearing all those clothes?"
Ryoma glanced down his body, then turned his face away, eyes shuttered. "No."
"Really? 'Cause I swear, I'm sweating just looking at you."
Ryoma spoke in a monotone, "So don't look."
Kaidoh reached over and smacked the back of the other junior's head. "Baka."
"Oi!" Momo hollered, lifting a hand to his scalp. "What was that for?" He whirled around.
Kaidoh sneered, "You're stupid."
"Who're you calling stupid, baka Mamushi?" Momo growled, clenching his fists.
Ryoma interrupted, "If you're all just going to stand there, you might as well come in." The two juniors fell quiet.
Inui pushed his glasses up his nose with a forefinger, peering in past Fuji's head and Momo's shoulder. "Only five more of us would fit."
Ryoma rubbed a bruise-free section of his forehead. "Fine. Downstairs, then." Steeling himself, he gingerly stood and gestured for them to go ahead.
Kikumaru hopped up. "Okay!"
Momo stepped back onto Fuji's feet, muttered an apology, and then offered, "After you, Echizen. After you."
Ryoma lifted an eyebrow but relented without a fuss. "Tch. Scoot over."
Kaidoh hissed affectionately, "Arrogant brat."
The group staggered out of the way. Ryoma squeezed past, careful not to brush up against any of them. He shuffled humiliatingly slowly down the stairs, and after making his faltering way into the living room, he finally plunked down at the end of the couch. Déjà vu, anyone?
His friends arranged themselves around the room, some on the floor. "…So?" Ryoma finally inquired into the awkward silence.
Kawamura hurried, "Right, right." He rubbed the back of his head, asking without meeting Ryoma's eyes, "How are you doing?"
Ryoma shrugged. "Fine." Tezuka's face didn't change, but the air around him grew slightly chastising. The freshman huffed and folded his arms. "Tired, but fine."
"Echizen…" Oishi shifted uncomfortably. "Ryuzaki-sensei asked us about what happened."
Ryoma's expression tightened.
Oishi rushed on, "Tezuka-buchou told her." His earnest black eyes locked with the freshman's.
Ryoma glanced suspiciously to Kawamura and then to Kaidoh, neither of whom appeared guilty, only caught off-guard. Then he looked to Tezuka, and some nuance of ignorance in his expression convinced the freshman to relax back into the couch.
Brow lifted slightly, Inui noted the fleeting exchange of looks.
Kaidoh suddenly stiffened, a failing expression of indifference plastered hastily onto his face. All eyes shifted to him: Karupin had padded up behind the junior and was now rubbing up against him, meowing. The cat then spotted its owner and abandoned Kaidoh's unrelenting side, leaping onto Ryoma's lap. The freshman softened as the cat curled up in a fluffy, purring lump.
"Aw," Kikumaru crooned with a grin. Ryoma graced the senior with a tiny smile.
Momo, seated beside said freshman on the couch, boomed in excitement, "Echizen!"
Karupin jumped, digging claws into Ryoma's thigh. The twelve-year-old winced. "What, Momo-senpai?" Gentle paws began to knead the pricked skin in apology.
"When are you coming back to school? When?" Momo leaned in close, bright-eyed.
Ryoma only shrugged and stroked his cat.
Momo lost a bit of his sparkle, but his hope remained. "Well, I was just thinking… how about we go for burgers that day?"
Kikumaru clapped his hands in delight. "Ooh, ooh, me too! Me, too, nyah!"
Ryoma eyed them both with a wisp of a familiar smirk. "Senpai's treat?"
The junior chuckled as Kikumaru's face fell. Momo winked at Ryoma and grinned at the overactive senior, answering, "Hai. Senpai's treat."
"Hey!" cried Kikumaru with a pout. He turned to Oishi for comfort, saying as if the other hadn't heard, "Oishi, Oishi, they tricked me! They want me to pay for burgers!" The Vice Captain just shook his head, a small, burgeoning smile smoothing out the stress lines on his face.
Fuji smiled wider than usual. "Hmm, why don't we all go? Ne, Tezuka?" Kikumaru perked up at that.
The Captain peered suspiciously over his narrow-rimmed glasses at the senior beside him but, after a quick appraising look to Ryoma, nodded. "Hai."
Kawamura lifted a shy hand. "Well, in that case… I could probably convince my dad to give us a discount. If that's okay with everyone, I mean. It'd be sushi, not burgers."
Kaidoh murmured a tad awkwardly, "What do you think, Echizen?"
"It's not worth all that." The freshman shrugged again. "But whatever."
Nanjiroh followed the Seigaku regulars down the stairs, and then strode down the hall and into the kitchen. No one was there. He frowned, somewhat at a loss. With a mental shrug, he ambled back down the hallway and out the back door. Spotting that long-familiar form leaning against the belfry, he hurried over.
"Ryuzaki," Nanjiroh called. "You weren't in the kitchen."
She glanced over at him, letting her crossed arms slide to her sides and pushing away from the stone to stand straight. "It's cooler out here in the breeze."
"Aa," he agreed. His gaze fell from hers and hovered on the swaying trees beyond the tennis court. "Ryoma still won't talk to me."
She sighed. "Nanjiroh, I spoke to the other regulars."
He met her eyes as his face cautiously began to alight with hope. "You did?"
Her voice began to quiver. "Yes, and… they told me… what happened." She took in a steadying breath.
"Tell me!" Nanjiroh took an aggressive step toward her.
Taken slightly aback, she nevertheless complied. By the time she finished, he was trembling with barely suppressed rage. Cursing under his breath, he paced to the edge of the court and back, driving his fingers into his short, black hair. "I'll tear that bastard to pieces!" His son, his precious son… How could anyone do that to him? "Fuck!"
Ryuzaki stepped into his path, forcing him to a sudden halt. "Nanjiroh, he's already been arrested."
He stared daggers at her. "It's not enough!"
Her face sagged with sadness. "I know." She turned to frown up at the house. "I know."
From beside her came a deflated whisper. "Hurry home, Rinko. He needs you."
