Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis. I own this story. The end.
Author's Note: Remember in the beginning how I said I didn't like author's notes? Well, now I see why people insist on them. They are quite amusing. Anyway, thank you to all who have reviewed. All of you people who subscribe but are too lazy to review - I know where you live. Very few reviews last chapter…. it saddened me. I hope you all aren't losing interest. By the way…please check out my new story, Redemption Song. Thanks.
Warning: This chapter may contain some M rated content. I am issuing a warning now. There will be chapters in the future with M content, and I will post a warning at the beginning of each one. If you all wish for me to adjust the rating accordingly, I shall do so. I'm not sure if I should, please be the judge of that for me.
Chapter Nine: Facing the Day
Time was an amazing thing. That was all Eiji could think as he watched Ryoma walk out the door. The child- because really, that's what he was- had politely declined to stay for lunch. He hadn't seemed upset. After their volatile conversation had drawn to a close, he'd returned to his usual self. Cool, calm, appropriately apathetic Echizen. Fuji too had proceeded to prepare lunch for the two of them as if nothing had happened at all. The black haired boy had simply stated, "I'll see you tonight," walked out the door, and that was the end of it. Time had come, changed everything, and then time had gone.
This was where Eiji would remain forever out of the loop. That one particular quality that Seigaku's strongest three seemed to posses- Tezuka, Fuji, and Ryoma were all able to remain the same, regardless of if world came crashing down around them. He didn't get it. He didn't want to get it. Because truthfully, it made him sick. To pretend that people didn't matter. That what happened to people didn't matter, that life didn't matter. It bothered him.
Fuji's soft humming resonated through out the kitchen, and the normalcy of it all- the way that everything was exactly the same as it had always been- was driving him insane.
"Fuji." He bit out, causing the tensai to pause, grilled cheese still sizzling on the stove.
The honey haired boy quirked an eyebrow before turning back to his work, expertly flipping the western sandwiches oh so slightly.
"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever talk to me again."
Eiji glared at his best friend's back.
"It's not like you've earned it." He quipped, ignoring his growling stomach and the delicious aroma emanating from Fuji's cooking. "You're a selfish bastard, sometimes, you know that?"
Fuji chuckled softly, transferring the stack of grilled cheese onto a serving platter. He then moved to the fridge.
"What would you like to drink, Eiji? We have sparkling water, sparkling cider, grape soda, orange soda, Pepsi, Coke, Sprite, Absolut Vodka Original, Absolut Vodka Raspberry, Jack Daniels, tequila, and Ichiban Original."
Eiji growled. "Fuji, quit changing the subject. What the hell was with the Spanish Inquisition back there- wait? Did you say vodka?"
Fuji turned to face him, looking highly amused with himself.
"Hm? Oh, yes. My sister was kind enough to purchase some for us."
Eiji's mouth dropped open. The tensai had pulled some truly insane stunts in the past, but this was just- ridiculous.
"You got your sister to buy us liquor?" he flat lined, unable to fully comprehend the tensai's obviously warped logic.
Fuji clucked his tongue and pulled out a can of orange soda- Eiji's favorite- and tossed it at the stunned red head.
"Really, Eiji," he sighed, reaching for the platter of steaming hot grilled cheese, "I thought you'd be the last person to have a problem with it."
He placed the food on the kitchen table and sat down, smile never faltering.
"Aren't you going to eat, Eiji? I'm sorry it's so plain…my mother must've forgotten to go shopping."
The kicker was that the tensai sounded truly apologetic. About the food. Not about the fact that he had:
Treated Ryoma like a suspected terrorist and all but pushed him out of the closet.
Orchestrated this entire plan to skip school- they were all dead men, as far as Eiji was concerned.
Purchased alcohol for six fifteen year olds, two fourteen year olds, and a thirteen year old kid.
Eiji's left eye twitched. "Fuji…I swear to God…you are absolutely insane. What in hell are you trying to pull?"
Laughing blue eyes fluttered open for an instant, before closing again. Fuji reached for a sandwich and took a dainty little bite.
"Hm…what do you think, Eiji? Does it need pepper?"
If life had been a show, Eiji would've fallen out of his chair. Instead he contended himself with turning a mottled shade of red.
"…Fuji…." He ground out, all but shoving his own food down his throat. After a few seconds of appreciative silence, he continued.
"I realize that there is absolutely no point in asking you why you did this, because I know you well enough to realize that I will never get a straight answer. I also know that you only do things for a reason. I could ask you what your reason was, but I think that's fairly clear."
Fuji raised a slender brow.
"My reason?" He let his smile slide into that sadistic smirk he seemed to so favor. "I thought it was fairly standard for teenagers to drink at these social gatherings."
"You-," the red head snapped, taking a swig of his soda, "Are anything but a standard teenager. So just cut the shit, already."
Dancing blue eyes met his own.
"My, my, aren't we testy today?"
"I hate you."
The tensai clucked his tongue. Eiji's skin crawled.
"Since when have you gotten so serious, Eiji? It isn't like you."
The acrobatic boy only glared in response. Fuji sighed, swiping a few strands of hair off of his porcelain forehead.
"Alright, alright. The last thing I want is for you to be angry with me." He sounded sincere enough, and Eiji couldn't help but crack a tiny grin.
The tensai continued, his azure eyes warm all of a sudden. It was slightly unnerving…those eyes were open far more often now, and Eiji wasn't used to seeing such a softness in them. It was almost…haunting.
"I honestly have no intention of anyone getting hurt. I don't wish to humiliate anyone."
Eiji frowned. "Then why did you do that to ochibi? And why the drinks?"
Fuji smiled softly. "I…do not wish to break Ryoma." His voice grew soft, almost tender. "Or anyone else."
The red head leaned forward, the pieces slowly clicking together. It was impossible. This wasn't the Fuji he knew. The Fuji he knew did not call Ryoma by his first name, or speak of him with such warmth in his voice. That voice was for him alone. That voice…meant that this was no longer just a game.
"Wait a minute. Fuji…do you…do you love him?" Eiji's voice was laced with disbelief.
Fuji's resulting laugh did not reach his eyes. Those blue orbs flickered with a profound sadness.
"No, Eiji." He said sweetly, leaning over the table and running his thumb along the acrobat's jaw line. "I don't love him."
A shiver ran up Eiji's spine, but he didn't pull away. That gaze was so…heartbreakingly…perfect. This sadness on Fuji…it was beyond lovely.
"Then why?"
The tensai pulled away, and for a split second, he seemed to wilt. But then the moment passed and Fuji was standing, collecting dishes in his arms and smiling wanly.
"You see, Eiji. The problem isn't that I love him. The problem is…the problem is I know that I could."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
If Ryoma had been thinking straight, he wouldn't be standing outside his house, waiting for Momoshiro to meet him at seven o' clock in the evening. A growl passed through his lips as he shot a glance at his watch. Momoshiro was running late. And no doubt when the spiky haired boy did arrive, he'd grill Ryoma non-stop about why he'd skipped school.
He should never have lied to his parents and said, "It's a club thing." Even though, technically, it was a club thing, he doubted his parents would see it as such.
And most importantly, he should've never, never, never, in a million years have told Fuji Syusuke that he was gay.
Ryoma felt the all too familiar twisting in his stomach, and a pained grimace flitted across his young face.
He'd never thought of himself as gay before. In fact, despite the obvious, he still didn't. Ryoma had never been a fan of labels.
He wasn't "gay" in the typical sense of the word. He wasn't attracted to other men. He had never struggled with his sexuality before- his sexual interest in others, up until this point, had been nonexistent. He was a well content asexual.
And then there was Fuji.
Ryoma had memorized every detail of the face that haunted his dreams- every contour of those perfect, agonizingly soft lips, ever flutter of those dark eyelashes, every strand of impossibly sleek, honey brown locks…and every glimmer in those all-seeing, unforgiving eyes.
Denial was still rooted deep within him, but after today…there was no point, was there? It was all out in the open. Kikimaru-senpai…no. Ryoma couldn't explain, but the two of them shared an unidentifiable familiarity now. They were both planets caught helplessly in the orbit of the sun.
Eiji was gay. Eiji had been involved with Oishi…Ryoma colored a pale shade of raspberry…physically. Very physically, from what he gathered. The idea of his bouncy senpai giving head was…strangely erotic.
Wait a minute. Did I just think…the idea of Eiji-senpai…putting his mouth…on…another boy's…. Oh my God. What the hell is happening to me?
He shook his head viciously, face turning a mottled purple.
No! No! I did not just think-but wait? How would that work with me and…with me and Fuji? I mean…if I…but, would I? I mean… would I let him put it…in my mouth?
Tingles shot up the freshman's spine at the very thought, and he licked his lips, mouth suddenly unbearably dry. The blood rushed from his face and if it weren't for superior self-control, it would have made it all the way down. And even then…Ryoma was becomingly increasingly aware of his previously neglected anatomy. He felt it's odd…warmth in a way that he hadn't before.
Hmph. I shouldn't be acting like such a girl. It's not like I'm going to sleep with him.
No, challenged his subconscious, but that's only because you're scared. It isn't because you don't want to. Look at you…just thinking about it has gotten you hard…
No! You're wrong! I'm not…it isn't like that!
Laughter, dark peals emanating from a depth Ryoma hadn't known he possessed.
You can't deny it. You want him more than you've ever wanted anything. He thrills you more than anything ever could…more than tennis ever will. You want him to own you, posses you…you want him to make you scream his name…
"Echizen! Oy, Echizen!"
Ryoma's golden eyes snapped open, pupils dilated and quivering. His breath came in short gasps and… his jeans were uncomfortably tight.
Momoshiro was standing before him, straddling his bike. His oblivious grin was able to return Ryoma's heart beat to normal, but the color lingered on his face.
After a moment of expectant silence, the second year frowned.
"Echizen…are you alright?" He made to get off the bike, but Ryoma waved a shaking hand.
"Yeah. I'm fine. I think I'm coming down with something." The lie flowed smoothly off his tongue, but when he saw Momo's concerned frown deepen, a twinge of guilt plucked at his heartstrings.
The purple-eyed boy didn't look convinced, but he didn't pursue the matter. Ryoma climbed onto his familiar perch alongside his senpai. A wave of relief crashed over him as soon as the wind did. The breeze blew back his hair and a smile drifted to his lips.
And in that moment, he felt as if nothing had changed. He was riding beside his best friend, with free abandon, not a care in the world.
He was Echizen Ryoma, and everything was as it should be.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It had never been like this. It had been bad, and bad had been worse, but it had never been like this.
The Seigaku regulars sat in a perfect circle in the center of the living room. The couches had been pushed back and the lights had been dimmed, the atmosphere had been set. But the tension was positively unbearable.
After this morning's fiasco on the roof, the entire team was in shambles. No one made eye contact or spoke. It was obvious that most members had seriously considered not coming at all.
And frankly, Momoshiro couldn't blame them. He had never been the most observant or perceptive person, but even he couldn't miss the obvious friction between his senpai-tachi…and, oddly enough, his best friend.
He risked a glance to his left. Ryoma was sitting with his legs crossed, leaning back on his hands and looking oddly…at ease.
That was more than the dunk smash specialist could say for his fellow teammates.
Inui was scribbling away in his little blue book, the soft scratch of the pencil against paper the only noise save for the occasional nervous cough or fidget.
Kawamura was next to him, scratching the back of his head and looking confused. He obviously didn't understand why the aura was tense…
Though, it was pretty hard to miss Oishi and Eiji's staring contest. The two of them were deadlocked, and he could practically see the sparks flying between them. Before…they'd ignored each other. That was bearable. Apparently, something horrible had ended their friendship and therefore, their doubles partnership.
Momo still had hope that they'd work through it, that it was just a phase. But if they went all out on each other before that could happen…it could split the team in two.
Tezuka was impervious as always. The only indication he noticed the discord was the small frown pooled between his eyebrows.
The purple-eyed boy bit his lip and looked to his right. The viper was sulking, putting up a pathetic front at looking indifferent. It was failing miserably.
Fuji, besides Ryoma, was the only one who looked even remotely comfortable. In fact…he looked downright jolly.
The tensai's usually placid demeanor seemed to crackle with energy. It was the type of energy that Momo had rarely been given a chance to see. It had never before left a court.
The freshman beside him heaved an exasperated sigh.
"Oy, Fuji. Are we just going to sit here all night?"
Eight pairs of shocked eyes turned to him. The silence had been broken, finally, and by the most unlikely of people.
But that wasn't why Momo's mouth was hanging open.
Fuji. Not Fuji-senpai. Just Fuji. He didn't know why he was so shocked. It's not as if he hadn't noticed.
Perceptive he may not be, but when it came to his friend…his best friend…there was nothing he did not see. Because the truth was, Ryoma was like a little brother to him…more than that. Momoshiro was almost certain the he cared for his kohai more than his kohai cared for him, and so he kept his peace.
And so when Ryoma's gaze started lingering on Fuji just a moment longer, Momo noticed.
When Ryoma stopped focusing in games, Momo noticed.
When Ryoma looked at him with those wide, golden eyes and said, "I'm alright", Momo knew that he was most decidedly not.
And so now, when the two prodigies eyes met and the air seemed charged with a sudden heat, the tension cracked like a shattered vase a small, hint of a smile stretched across the olive haired boy's face
And Momoshiro knew that Ryoma and Fuji were intertwined, in whatever way, for whatever reason. He knew he wasn't going to be able to change that.
Because the smile on Ryoma's face…was a smile that Momoshiro was never able to bring.
It was for Fuji. Only Fuji.
And it was all right. Because it had to be.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
He should've quit while he was ahead. This incessant desire to challenge Fuji…to make him sweat, to beat him, was second only to his desire to feel that soft skin on his.
But old habits died hard, and Ryoma had never been one to back down. Love was love, but he wasn't a girl, and he wasn't about to start acting like one.
"Fuji, you brought us all out here. Some of us-," Ryoma had to resist the urge to point a finger, "Against their will. So you better have some sort of plan. Or I'm going home."
Gleeful, half lidded blue eyes sparkled curiously.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." The surprise was so convincing, Ryoma might've believed him. "There's snacks in the kitchen- oh, dearest me. I must've forgotten to bring them out."
Eiji made a snorting noise. "Fuji, this has gone on long enough. Just tell them what you planned."
The regulars all looked intensely curious, Inui had stopped his scribbling and Kaidoh let out an expectant hiss. Tezuka's frown deepened. He knew Fuji well, and he was right to be wary.
Ryoma glared pointedly at his love interest.
"Yes. Do."
The tensai chuckled. Tezuka looked as if he very much wanted to disband this party right now, before someone got seriously injured.
"Eiji is simply referring to an idea we thought up this morning." He sounded oh-so-innocent. It was nauseating.
Tezuka's left eye twitched.
"You mean this morning when the three of you decided to take a field trip?" The captain's voice was icy.
Fuji met Tezuka's gaze, unperturbed by the accusation. "It was necessary." He stated simply. Eiji didn't even bother replying, he just whimpered something imperceptible and huddled behind Fuji.
Ryoma winced. He'd known this was coming. It was only a matter of when.
"Um…Buchou…"
The leader turned hard as flint eyes to him.
"And you, Echizen. I expected it from Eiji. But how could you let them rope you into this? Did you even think about what it would mean for the team? Do you know how much fast talking I had to do in order to cover your ass?"
Ryoma's heart dropped through his chest cavity and settled somewhere around his knees. The man he admired…the man who'd meant the most for so long, was looking at him as if he were the scum of the earth. And it stung.
"Buchou, I'm sorry, I didn't think-."
A voice filled with disdain cut him off. "It's obvious that you didn't think, Echizen. Do you even care about this team anymore? Or-," a strange bitterness, unfamiliar to all the stunned onlookers, filled his tone. "Have you found something more important?"
Ryoma felt his mouth go dry. The acidic residue in the back of his throat was choking him, he couldn't speak. It felt as if someone had slashed him across the chest and was leaving him to bleed until the life drained from his body.
Momoshiro, previously mute, offered up a shaky protest. "Buchou, that's impossible. Nothing is more important to him than tennis-."
"Did anyone ask you to speak, Momoshiro? Or are you just firing off your mouth as usual?" It was Oishi. His characteristically mother hen tone was gone, as was the softness in his eyes.
The purple eyed boy's mouth snapped shut. His cheeks flushed a furious red. Inui's scribbling increased frantically.
Ryoma felt a wave of anger mingle with his humiliation. But Eiji beat him to it.
"Shut the fuck up, already, Oishi, and get your mouth off of Tezuka's ass for three damn seconds." His voice was plain and neutral, but that was what made it so shocking. No one had ever heard Eiji speak like that. Especially not to Oishi.
Tezuka let out an affronted "Eiji!" but Fuji quickly silenced them all.
"If you want to pick a fight, Oishi, do it on your time." He stated it simply and quietly, but it was enough to drop the temperature in the room a few degrees.
Tezuka regained his momentum, obviously irate at being cut off.
"Fuji, you seem to be under the impression that you run things these days. You've got Eiji and Echizen wrapped around your pinkie finger, don't you?"
Kaidoh let out a hiss. "Buchou…" he mumbled in that gravely voice of his. Everyone ignored him.
Eiji snorted. "You're one to talk. You've practically got Oishi following you around like a puppy dog."
The "puppy dog" went a mottled purple and made as if to stand.
"Oh, I get how it is, Eiji. You're screwing Fuji now. Makes perfect sense. You always did need someone to want you. I'm just glad it isn't me anymore."
The dead silence that came following that comment did not last long. Ryoma's heart lodged on the soles of his feet. Every move he mad crushed it further.
"You and Oishi…were…together?" wheezed Inui, pen looking as if it might burst into flame.
"No," hissed Eiji, voice deadly low. "Oishi just used me to get his rocks off. He's done now, though. So I can go back to fucking people who don't finish after a minute and a half."
Taka squealed and recoiled into the corner. He, along with the rest of the team, looked positively horrified.
"So that's why," mumbled Kaidoh, an odd mix of understanding and repulsion in his voice.
Fuji's voice, no longer soft, no longer whimsical, filled the room. No one had ever heard the tensai yell, and he wasn't yelling now. But he wasn't whispering either.
" If anyone." He flat lined. "Has a problem with Eiji, I suggest you leave my house while you still have the use of your legs."
"Fuji. This is not your team." –Tezuka practically growled and stood in one fluid motion. Oishi followed suit.
Eiji stood before Fuji could, practically leering forward. "Don't talk to him like that. He's your fucking friend."
Ryoma couldn't move. He was rooted to the spot. His brain had yet to process what he saw as reality.
The team, the friends who had been closer than brothers…standing on opposite sides and ripping each other to shreds. It was impossible.
How could everything they'd done…everything they'd been through together, with Nationals around the corner, mean nothing?
Oishi sneered. "What the hell would you know about friendship, Eiji? You can't even talk to someone without falling in fucking love with them."
Fuji was up in an instant, standing in front of Eiji, blue eyes open fully. They swirled with pure fury, disdain etched into every muscle in his body.
Ryoma had never seen him so angry.
"Leave my house." He whispered, voice shaking with indignation. "Right now."
Oishi spluttered, before shooting one last desperate glare at Eiji. "I'm not going to-,"
"Oishi." Tezuka broke in, voice flat. "We're going. This party is over. Everyone. Let's go."
The silence fell yet again, but this time, it was empty. There was no emotion in the air, because everyone was feeling too much. Everyone knew what Tezuka was asking.
He was asking them to choose.
Side with him. Or side with Fuji. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryoma thought how bitterly ironic this was.
Tezuka cast his hard hazel eyes around the room. Inui ceased his scribbling and stood on shaky legs, eyes downcast. He didn't look in Fuji's direction.
"Thank you for inviting me." He mumbled. He left the room.
Eiji's face seemed to sag, like an old man's as he watched Inui leave with impassive eyes.
Oishi opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Ryoma was angry with his vice captain, but after seeing him break this morning…he wasn't really surprised it had come to this.
Oishi had poured out his soul. And now there was nothing left but the hatred. Hatred was the only thing the two of them had anymore.
Taka looked up at them desperately, with big, red eyes. He honestly looked close to tears.
"Is this…" he choked out, "Is this what we've come to then? Sniping at each other?" He stood suddenly, eyes burning. "If this what we've become…than I can't bear to watch it anymore!"
He cradled his head in his hands and walked, slowly, out of the room. Like a man going to his grave.
Fuji's blue eyes flickered with sadness. He'd liked Taka.
And then there was Kaidoh. He didn't say anything. It wasn't like him to be dramatic. He cast one last glance at Ryoma and Momoshiro, and then he too was gone. Momoshiro's eyes disappeared from view.
Something inside of Ryoma snapped. In three weeks- three measly weeks- everything had broken.
Oishi stared at his shaking hands, as if screaming silently, What have I done?
His olive eyes were swirling with a thousand emotions, and he looked at Eiji one final time. His face fell and his cheeks seemed to cave in. He looked like a shadow of the man he'd been. And then he pushed past Tezuka towards the exit. A door slammed in the distance.
Momoshiro didn't move in inch. Tezuka studied him for a moment, before closing his eyes and reopening them. Ryoma turned shocked eyes toward his friend. He received a shy smile and a wink in response.
Tezuka turned unreadable hazel eyes toward Ryoma. He no longer looked imposing…he looked…tired. He hesitated.
"Echizen…Ryoma…" he paused, as if weighing the name on his tongue. "Ryoma…" he said it with more confidence this time, like a man convinced of his own justice. "Ryoma, don't do this. You have so much potential…you could be so great. You could be better than all of us. Ryoma…don't do this…think of your tennis…"
And then all of a sudden, as uncertain golden eyes met pleading brown ones, Ryoma understood. He understood all of the implications of the word "this."
Don't leave the team.
Don't forget who you are. What you want.
Don't leave all of your friends.
Don't leave me.
Don't choose Fuji.
Stay with me.
Please…stay…
And Ryoma remembered. Remembered from what felt like so long ago. How he'd once felt about Tezuka- the respect, the admiration…the silent connection that had been only for the two of them. The desire to please him above all else. The sheer, unadulterated awe he'd felt whenever the two of them walked onto a court together. The way that Tezuka had looked at him with that look that promised everything. And he wanted to say something. He wanted to say, "I'm not leaving you! It doesn't have to be like this! Why are you making me choose between the two things that I love? I can't! I can't! Why are you asking me this?"
He wanted to shout, yell, scream and rage. He wanted to loose his cool and make them see, make them all see that this was foolish, so beyond foolish. He wanted to see what they were doing. What they were undoing. But he couldn't. He couldn't say a word.
He cast desperate eyes towards Fuji, but the tensai did not look at him. Those blue eyes were focused a thousand miles away.
No reassurance whatsoever. Fuji wasn't even asking him to stay. Because God knows, if he'd only ask, if he'd only show any inclination that Ryoma mattered to him…but no. That wasn't his way.
Ryoma squeezed his fist tight.
I shouldn't even be thinking about this. I love tennis. Tennis is the most important thing to me, and nothing else should matter.
But that isn't what fell from his mouth. Because everything he'd been for the past thirteen years of his life was nothing but ashes in the wind.
"I'm…sorry…Buchou." He whispered. There was nothing else he could say. Whatever was left of him twisted and broke. The pieces sank into nothing. "I'm so sorry."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Stop him. Stop him now.
The chant reverberated inside Fuji's head, over and over. As the horrible scene played out before his eyes, as the blood of more and more fell onto his hands, that was all he could think.
And when Tezuka turned accusing eyes towards him, he could not look away. He could only look back at the best friend he'd lost.
I wanted to hurt him. His brain rationalized. This is what I wanted.
But the look in his captain's eyes was the last thing he ever wanted to see. But even as he walked away, Fuji knew that he would see it for the rest of his life.
And when the door shut for the final time, Fuji looked around him. He looked at Eiji, whose dark eyes were swimming with unshed tears. He looked at Momoshiro, who'd been roped into this only because he refused to leave his friend's side.
And he looked at Ryoma. The boy's small frame was perfectly still. His golden eyes were wide and disbelieving. He looked to be made of stone. A stone that was trying desperately not to cry. He looked at the child who'd given up everything he'd ever loved for him.
And the only thing he could think…
I win.
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Author's Note: Please, please review. They give me the strength to write on. I lost my brother a few weeks ago, and I'm really trying to push through. Thanks for everything, guys.