Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis characters belong to Takeshi Konomi
Warning: Brain farts lie ahead. And some embittered, not-pretty language. I can't help it.
Previously: The writing implements are no longer necessary. Because Echizen Ryoma, the Samurai Junior, has an idea. And not to be egotistical or anything, but if you asked him, he'd say it was quite brilliant.
Chapter 3: Practice
"Osakada Tomoka."
"Wruh?"
"Let me in."
Yeah, I know, you're impressed.
By utilizing the immeasurable resources that are devised for intensive tracking, Echizen Ryoma located former middle school classmate, Osakada Tomoka. In laymen's terms, his actions could be considered "stalking," but that's something else.
"Wruh you want? Who are you?"
"Traditionally, the sequence of those two questions is reversed. Also, it is considered quite improper to answer the door whilst wielding a spoiled toothbrush. Can't say it isn't foul to be greeted by a face smothered in toothpaste. And bed head hair is so out dated."
A deadpan stare met the tennis star.
Heh.
The door shut. Rather, it smashed to a close
"Ah—wait! Osakada! OSAKADA!"
"WRUH YOU WANT, PUNK?"
A slick smirk slid onto his face. "Don't recognize me?"
She spat. "I know who you are."
"Well that's pleasant." Smirk. "Hey, nice pajamas. I like bunnies, too."
Wood began to flooded his view as the door threatened to seal again. Had he not caught the door, nearly impelling in Ryoma's nose.
"Well, isn't that rude?"
"Fuck you."
"Lots of people would like to, but that's not why I'm here. Let me in. We wouldn't want to cause a scene, now would we?"
She glowered.
Smirk. "So, how have you been?"
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A crude cup of joe sloshed as it was ungraciously presented.
But Ryoma wasn't a total ingrate. He took it, appreciative that anything was offered at all from his soured host.
"What do you want?"
"Straight to the point, aren't we."
"Well gee, I don't know, let's consider we haven't kept in contact for nearly a decade"—Shit, thought Ryoma, I'm old—"and as I understood it, we weren't particularly friends."
Ryoma nonchalantly took a sip of his coffee, then allowed his eyes to lift and meet her hard gaze.
"My Osakada, I'm insulted."
"Don't give me that. What do you want?"
"People can't decidedly meet another without a motive?"
Deadpan stare.
"Fine then, I'll get to the point. I need a girl."
"So?"
"How come you don't sound surprised?"
"You have a tendency to come off as emotionally erect."
"What does that even mean?"
"I think you know."
"Erm, anyhow…so yeah, I need a girl."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Well, erm…"
His poker face wasn't maintained without difficulty. He could feel the line of his heartbeat totter and wobble. When he had been thinking it through at home, he was confident he could pull this off effortlessly.
But imagine this: here he was in front this uncouth female. Outwardly collected, yet vexing within. This was supposed to be easy.
46 hours ago, he had received the mail that had shaken his world. 43 hours ago, he customarily fed his cat and spotted—by mere chance, really—a photograph adorned in the hallway. His mother most likely tinkered with his home at her last visit and unsheathed the photo, thinking to make his complex more like a proper home. He would have ordinarily ignored said photo had it not been for his shaken state, but his eyes did befall that photo. A photo of Seishun Gakuen's tennis team, 9 years ago.
His eyes hadn't really fallen unto Osakada Tomoka when looking at the photo. As brutish as it sounds, she was an afterthought. His eyes had firstly moved to the familiar faces of the regulars. His gaze had then swerved to his former coach; he had shuddered violently for a moment, and moved on.
But even before all that, he had momentarily been caught by a certain artificial gaze, burgundy brown in hue. And, though he wouldn't openly admit it, his eyes had scantly danced about the image of too-long braids.
It was too dangerous. Way, way too dangerous. His virgin heart bemused everyone about him. His heart was novel, unscathed, utterly a neophyte in every form of romance. There was no way he could expose himself to such…such vulnerability. Such vulnerability could possibly embroil the entirety of his existence.
Albeit, that does sounds a tad dramatic and hyperbolic. But he couldn't do it. So here he was, taking the easy route.
"Umm, hi, did I disconnect? Hello Ryoma, you can't hang up on someone in the middle of a tete-a-tete."
Well, the "easy" route, he inwardly snorted.
Ryoma raised his gaze. He had to do it this way: artless, detached, unromantic, advantageous, direct, uncomplicated. It was sure-fire.
"I need a favor."
"Ok."
"Marry me."
Long eyelashes flitted in confusion. "Excuse me?"
"Osakada Tomoka, will you –wait, do you need me to get down on one knee? I'm kind of tired right now and I don't feel like it."
"You're tired? I'M TIRED."
"Well that's just peachy, so it seems we have a mutual agreement on that. Anyways, we can just head down to the—"
"HOLY MUFFIN PANS. Echizen, are you out of your mind?"
"Well that's a bit rude."
Tomoka closed her eyes, as if to somehow remedy her newborn headache or stimulate something to make sense of the last 27 seconds. Ok breathe, breathe, and face this shit. "I'm not going to marry you."
"Why not?"
"WHY NOT? Are you a moron?
"If I remember correctly, you were quite fond of me back in the day Osakada."
A hyena laugh ruptured the air. Ryoma winced; her laugh was belittling.
"Fuck, you're serious."
"So what if I am?"
"Dude, I'm married."
"Fuck, you're serious?"
She grimaced. "What. I can get me a man."
"Where's this man?"
"Business trip."
"Ah."
Silence quickly flooded the air.
"Then get rid of him."
Tomoka scoffed in amusement. A corner of her mouth lifted in amusement. "My oh my, Echizen Ryoma wants to be"—her eyes gilt with glee—"the other man."
He had completely lost. Now she was just toying with him.
"Ho ho, don't make such an ugly face! It might get stuck like that."
Alice was at the beck and will of the merciless Cheshire cat.
"So what do you need, hon?"
Hon. He hated that.
"I need to get married." The words were like grit in his mouth.
He watched with unfiltered scorn as Tomoka played with the thought. "The Echizen Ryoma, the international tennis celebrity, needs to get married? Oh the woes of a young adult male! And he came to simple me!"
Her sarcastic inflections were really irritating.
"But what could possibly provoke something like this?"
She was really chucking this up.
"What would cause the Echizen Ryoma to grace me with his presence? Or should I say…why would the darling Echizen be so desperate to be bound to little ol' me? Oh darling, would you care to enlighten me?"
Eyelashes flitted. Only this time, she didn't look surprised – she just looked disgusting.
Really, he had no conceivable response. This woman, this excuse for a woman! It was repulsive how the tables had turned.
"I. need. to get. married." He stifled, dripping with contempt.
A groomed eyebrow rose with incredulity. "Ah, so your impulse was to ask me?"
"Sure." Whatever will make you shut up and let me leave with an infinitesimal amount of dignity.
Tomoka smirked. Man were this woman's smirks utterly revolting. They never failed to send a cold chill down your spine.
"Okay Mister Echizen Ryoma, I won't push it. But you can't just go about proposing to whatever girl you want. I don't know your reasons for wanting to get married so shortsightedly, but you shouldn't purely act on a bet or to prove a point."
Ah, shit. Erm, well, about that—
"If you're going to do this, you ought to go for a girl that you have some genuine attraction to. Don't waste your efforts."
"Oh really," he replied dully.
"Let me just say you ought to get off your high horse – not every girl is in love with you." A fiery red fingernail invaded his view, poised, threatening to pierce straight through his very thoughts. "Think of the girl in your approach. Then you'll get a relationship worth your time." She then leaned back and crossed her arms defiantly. "Learn some courtship."
"Whatever."
"Hmm, you may be a little more groomed and matured, but you're still a child."
Like you're one to talk, Ryoma mused.
Tomoka sighed dramatically. "Ah, you're so lucky that I'm so forgiving and compassionate. Such an ideal woman, wouldn't you agree?"
Not waiting for a response, Tomoka escaped on a tangent, becoming considerably absorbed in her own world. As she gabbled on, Ryoma twisted her words about in his own mouth. Genuine attraction? Courtship? It looked like the entirety of his plans were reduced to rubble. He would have to take another approach to this. And apparently, he couldn't do so without some help.
Returning his attention to loquacious female, he really couldn't get over how disgusting her happy expressions were. This woman really taunted at his self-respect.
Sweeping her hair from her face theatrically, Tomoka continued, "See, lucky for you, I'm very established and past juvenility. So I'll look pass this whole incident." She winked knowingly. "Let's consider this practice."
A final Cheshire grin adored Tomoka's face. "Good luck with courting your real target. You'll need it."
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The best part of this particular informal reunion was undoubtly the end, at least for the male party. Tomoka guided a less than enthusiastic Ryoma to the doorway, satisfied with how she handled this. Ryoma, however, was quite unsettled.
He really couldn't resist.
"By the way, let me just say you ought to know that it's really difficult to condone someone with any amount of credibility when you're wearing rabbit-patterned pajamas. You know, just telling you this for future reference."
"Why you…" Her eyes scathed.
He smirked. "Mada mada da—"
"Don't even. Just leave already."
He fluidly turned on his heel, leaving an irate woman in his wake. At least he could leave with a smile on his face.
"What a bitch," he contemplated.
"What an ass," she consented. A groan curled into the air. "It's hardly 6 in the morning!"
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To be continued.
A/N: And to think Tomoka is the one to be giving advice, huh? But it didn't turn out so bad. But with every step forward, there's a step backward! Next time, Ryoma looks to the best for counsel on this love affair.
Yes, I really wanted to make Ryoma an arse. Don't worry, it goes somewhere.
Yes, I really wanted to upload this yesterday but I hit a wall. Today I had testing and some family issues so writing was kind of difficult but I HAD TO GET IT DONE or I wouldn't forgive myself. So that explains the pathetic ending of this chapter; I just couldn't eloquently put out what I wanted to say on paper. Hopefully I got across what I wanted. Do I even have the right to write romance when I don't have any faith in it myself? I wonder…
Rate & Review! I'll try to put something up next week, but no promises.
Started 04-23-2011. Finished 04-30-2011. Uploaded 04-30-2011.