"Are you finally going to tell me why?" He looked at her unblinkingly and all she did was avert her eyes, staring at the ground in hesitation.
"I… I just."
Patience; he wasn't the type who had that kind of virtue running through his blood; even if he did appear to her with the face of a holy angel.
"Forget it. Don't bother answering."
He spoke softly in a bitter tone she'd known too well, he was tired, he'd had enough. He left her in silence again, his final remark tugging at her heart strings. It hurt, it hurt so badly.
Water over paint does make the most beautiful of things in the world of art. Too much of one thing can be a bad thing. Too much water on the painting can easily destroy the simple beauty, creating mortal wounds so deep that it scars.
Suisai Enogu
A Prince of Tennis Fanfiction
Written by Kiwi of RANNOC
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is the work of Konomi Takeshi.
The plot is the work of the deviously strange mind of RANNOC's Kiwi.
OC belongs to RANNOC's Ayumi Nazu.
AN: It's the continuation of the one-shot and I want to give thanks to SmartOotori for adding this short story to their favorites list. Hope you enjoy the read, reviews are welcome! Italics are tiny flashbacks from the Original Character's memory.
With the stroke of a brush, paint is laid on the paper. As the paint connects with water, it runs.
In her life, it was either that people around her, forced her to run or she'd cowardly run away from the problems that had arisen herself.
She didn't have that much confidence, but she wasn't afraid of that fact. She always had him beside her as her strength, as her support. He never told her that she was running away, she never admitted to herself that she was running away. It was all too troublesome and the both of them knew it from the start anyway.
What was the reason for it? Why was she running? What was she running from this time around? The answer would find her later; she just had too many things to think about.
Ayumi found herself gazing out at the sky at the bus stop on the way home; it was getting colder since the season was passing into middle fall to the beginning of winter already. She got onto the bus when it had finally arrived, the rush of warmth connecting with her skin burned, awakening an old memory of the last frost.
They walked together in the snow; the feeling of their hands linked together, although none of them weren't even wearing gloves, it was a happy one.
"…I still think you were a bit too hard on your opponent."
"It wasn't my fault that he had a lot to work on. He was a poorly skilled player to begin with."
"But still, you could have gone easier on him."
"Che." He turned away as she giggled. They continued on and stopped at the bench outside the outer ring of the park. Ayumi sat down, breathing hot air into the palms of her hand. Ryoma headed for the vending machine, slipping in the coins and hearing the tinkling clink as they fell.
"Here," He said, handing her a can of hot coffee.
"Thanks." She smiled and only held the drink in her hands to keep them warm.
Ryoma opened the can of Ponta in his hand and drunk a few long sips. Ayumi stared down at her can of coffee.
"Hey Ryoma-kun," Ryoma glanced over at the girl beside him. Her dark brown hair was longer than it used to be, it was one of the factors that made it harder to play tennis. He didn't have to talk about his ultimate passion to her like he'd always done, she already understood. Tennis was the one thing he was great at, the one thing he loved the most.
Ayumi leaned her head onto his shoulder and closed her eyes.
"Do you think I should go into an art school?"
She closed the door behind her, letting the coat she was wearing slip off her shoulders and carelessly dropped it into a chair in her living room area of her apartment. She slipped on a pair of slippers and walked through the rooms of her house.
Ayumi stopped in front of a closed door beside her bedroom; she opened the door and flicked on the light in the room.
"Isn't this room amazing Ryoma-kun?" Ayumi skipped through the door and twirled around in the center. The young man just slouched against the door frame and looked around the room, blank faced and uncaring at the least.
"It's empty."
"Of course it is, this is going to be my working studio from now on!" Ayumi strode over to Ryoma, entangling her fingers with his, she led him inside.
"So, what do you think?"Ayumi's eyes sparkled.
"It's alright." Ryoma stared at the ground.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Ayumi pouted and Ryoma looked up at her, and then brought his hands to the sides of her complexion, bringing himself in closer until their noses barely touched the other.
"It's alright, that's all." He muttered again and pushed back, the tips of his fingers slid down her rosy cheeks.
She walked forward taking in the scent of dried paint and musty dust in the air. It had a calming effect on her nerves whenever she was in this room, just like how she would have the opposite effects as she was near Ryoma-kun. The cheesy phrase, "I have butterflies in my stomach" matched the feeling well enough.
Ayumi stopped in front of a cloth covered painting; she took a hand and slowly unveiled it. The dimmed light caught the white flutter of cloth and the lines that created the picture.
"Well, well, I didn't expect to see you so soon." She tilted her head cutely to the right side and blinked, as she took note of the male figure at the entrance of her apartment.
"The game was canceled today; they decided to move it to next week." He said in his blunt straightforward kind of way. A small pouty frown graced his lips.
"Really, that's too bad." Ayumi closed her eyes, giving him a saddened closed eyed smile.
"…Aren't you going to let me in?"
"And if I choose not to?"Ayumi gave him a deviously childish grin.
"Alright then, I have no problem with that."He huffed slightly and turned around to leave. A hand gripped onto the end of his shirt.
"What?" He asked, turning his head back to look at her.
"Where are you going?" She asked a tad bit flustered by his unexpected actions, usually he'd give her "the look" until she couldn't hold in her laughter anymore and let him inside.
"I'm leaving."He noted that she didn't let go of her vice grip on his shirt.
"So… You're not coming inside then?" She looked down, rather disappointed.
"I just wanted to see you," He said plainly. Ayumi looked up at Ryoma-kun with wide eyes. "I'll be going to the tennis courts for extra training practice now." Ayumi replied with a tiny "oh" of comprehension.
Ryoma-kun gazed down at Ayumi's face, "You have paint on your face."
"I do?" Ryoma nodded and motioned a hand to rub at the side of his right cheek. Ayumi mimicked the motion, rubbing her left cheek.
Ryoma sighed," You're hopeless." His thumb stroked against the paint blotch under her eye.
In our paintings, we express our emotions and feelings by transforming something so ordinary into a work of magnificent splendor. It takes concentration and such dedication in everything that we do, much like in everything we do.
The next day, Ayumi stared at the empty tennis courts, hands inside of her pockets and appeared to be lost in her thoughts. She used to be so intrigued by tennis; it was the first thing that connected her to Ryoma-kun. Their love of tennis but now, things had begun to change.
She heard footsteps walk over to her from behind and she turned and stared up at the person before her eyes. It had been a long while since she'd last seen him.
"I'm ready."