WHEN FUJI BECAME AN ECHIZEN
Written by Playgirl Eugene and MoonExpressions
Author's Note : Actually, reviews stated that with Playgirl's vivid description and Moon's strong OCs and twists, this story can be big. But the usual mind games are not all that we're trying to do. Moon's giving her all for her endless creativity, lovely intricateness, and seductive naughtiness that's so her. And Gene's also to give beautiful literacy, indulging emotions, and powerful plots. We hope that you all will enjoy this story and review and rebuild the Thrill Pair fandom!
Standard Disclaimer : The original Prince of Tennis and all of the characters, including the original plot, belong solely to Konomi Takeshi-sensei. The both of us own nothing of it and we do not earn any profit from this. This disclaimer stands firm for the whole of the story. Furthermore, if we use any material that needs to be disclaimed, there will be individual credit where due.
Warning(s) : In the future, depending on the readers' request, this fic might contain excessive, uncensored sexual themes; including sex between males, masturbation, foul languages, and similar traits.
Summary : What will happen when the Fuji family becomes a part of the crazy Echizen family? Especially when you throw in a one-night stand, attraction, and the promise to dominate the "new" sibling.
Setting and Timeline : Unrelated to the original setting and timeline since this is technically an AU story.
Character Setting : Nanjirou (43), Yoshiko (49), Ryoma (19), Shusuke (21), Yuuta (20), Yumiko/Nanako (30), Ryoga (25)
Chapter Details : None in particular.
Chapter 01
"In Japan Where the Summer Scorns"
Daishoku Restaurant
Tokyo, Japan
6.40 PM
"Yoshiko… I want you to marry me."
Yoshiko's eyes widened. Wrenching out of the platonic embrace, while not loosening the hold she had on his sleeves, she stared up at the face of her best friend for years with bewilderment, a heart-wrenching honesty in her open expression, and hesitant perplexity. She wasn't quite sure that she heard what she heard.
It just couldn't be.
"Now, don't… don't freak out!" the brunet man added hastily, "Umm, yet!"
Nanjirou, sensing her sudden stillness in his arms, felt far more flustered than he had when that crazy idea crashed his brain and his loud mouth blurted everything out before his common sense could even process the logic. What was done was already done and he couldn't just undo what he said or shrug it off by claiming that it was a lame joke. People didn't joke like that, especially not when you were a man in the face of a struggling widow that had just poured her heart out like there was no tomorrow.
But the truth remained that he took one look on that face, filled with deep lines of fatigue and with eyes weary of life and its harshness, he made up his mind. He wanted to get through this with her by his side. His sons were going to kill him, even the ever apathetic Ryoga – especially Ryoga, since the older of his sons was more emotional than the younger – if, and when they ever found out he was doing something like this without consulting the two of them first. They were bound to know, after all.
Nanjirou didn't even want to think of where this new incident was going to place the already sour relationship between his sons and himself. It had been years since they gathered to talk civilly and could physically show they loved and cared for each other; it was simply too gauche now days—both with his sons growing up and his clumsy affection.
These days, Ryoga was rarely at home anymore. If he wasn't working, he was clubbing and hanging out with his band of friends that Nanjirou didn't really approve but had not dared to object outright. It had been that way ever since Ryoga entered high school and hit sixteen of age. The rebellious stage had started from then and Nanjirou wasn't exactly a mother material enough to be strict on Ryoga either. Instead he bided his time around with his youngest and when his youngest showed signs of withdrawal from him as well, he found comfort in Daishoku restaurant with the free-spirited, cheerful waitresses and Yoshiko.
But it had been years of him looking the other way and letting his sons do as they please that triggered Ryoma leaving a little over a year ago.
The youngest Echizen took after his brother suddenly and started returning home late during his last year of high school. Nanjirou believed it was another repeat of Ryoga's mannerism when he was at that stage and didn't worry too much about it although there were nights Ryoma returned even later than the two older Echizen did.
He didn't ask why and Ryoga didn't bother either. After all, Ryoma was a growing boy, and he needed space and privacy as they did as well… or so they thought.
On the occasions he did come home and Nanjirou spotted him, he never spoke more than necessary and went to his room, locking it from inside. Sometimes, Nanjirou would purposely wait for his son; something he did to remind himself that he was still a father of two, something insignificant but he felt as if doing it would give him some false sense of comfort. Should the Echizen patriarch didn't announce his presence and when the lights were off, the youngest of the family would never turn on the lights and quietly headed straight to his room. The next morning, he already left for school before Nanjirou could even see his face, let alone to talk to him.
He couldn't really say how he felt when he found out his son took on modelling without even counselling or informing him, and the short, abrupt conversations or quiet answers turned to mere silence or a one worded responses.
Ryoma wasn't being young and impulsive, Nanjirou found out. He was being mature, much to their surprise.
He woke earlier and got back late making Nanjirou feel that they were more like strangers sharing the same roof compared to father and son.
Looking back at it now, he felt empty that he never even knew of Ryoma's part-timing before Ryoga choked on his orange juice when he stumbled upon the teen's picture on the front cover and main pages of a famous fashion magazine while flippantly flipping through them in his boredom feats one day. He had been shocked initially as both his older son and he tried to make sense of the pictures in front of him, then a deep regret hit him as he realized he was beginning to have no part in his children's life. He knew nothing of what Ryoga was doing even though he had already graduated and now he wasn't even a part of society to know his son was a rising star.
When asked of his job, Ryoma merely shrugged with his typical 'hn' and offered no further explanation. His son really had a way with word. Every conversation Nanjiroh tried to engage with him to coax something more monosyllabic answers, Ryoma dissuaded almost irritably. It was then Nanjirou realized how his little boy had grown so much without him realizing. How he had grown, lacking the love he should've had. Lacking what Rinko, his dear late wife, would've wanted him to experience and given. The deepest part of his hurt was the fact that he had promised Rinko to look after their sons, but he had failed her spectacularly, and so did his sons.
He had retreated to his own despairs and insecurities that he had forgotten about the two that depended on him to keep smiling and loving them; he was that afraid of facing the reality of growing up and separation. Gradually updates of his son weren't from his son at all but through magazines and television clips of popularity.
He realized, despite having a face like Rinko, Ryoma never really did remind him of his wife, because unlike her, Ryoma never smiled. Not those commercial smiles plastered on every each of this nation and the next continent that he sold for millions, but that one, sincere smile. The quiet, seductive smile that had everyone swooning and crawling at his feet simply served as a reminder Nanjirou of his failure for not being a father enough for the boy.
"I'll be going to New York in a week."
One afternoon in a scorching summer sometime after his 18th birthday, the line was all he said to his father and brother before. He had stood dressed in designer attires, leaning by the doorway to the living room as two anonymous men moved empty boxes upstairs to his room. Those clothes he wore after he became a model was not even ones that the old Ryoma would consider wearing before; he never really noticed, but his son's appearance changed too drastically over the year.
His hair was longer, his skin paler with the lack of outdoor activities, and he was simply much, much more stylish.
He changed. He grew up, and Nanjirou ashamedly couldn't keep up with his pace.
"Whatever, brat…" Ryoga merely called out as he continued flipping through channels on the TV while Nanjiroh found himself speechless at the abrupt announcement. Before he could even answer, Ryoma was gone form the doorway and ordering the two men where to place his moving equipments.
Exactly six days and a half later, Nanjirou got back only to find Ryoma's neatly packed suitcases and his boxed items gone. The room he had occupied was empty save for the desk, chest of drawers, empty bookcase, and the bed neatly made. His youngest son had left home to live by himself and no longer depending on him, with no promise of coming back and not a single note left behind in his wake.
But even with the risk of further damaging his relationship with the boys, he'd take this chance. He'd risk everything; hoping that this impulsive decision he made was the right one to give his dysfunctional family a second chance to repair what they had never nurtured out of fear of losing, what they'd lost because of his cowardice. He wanted his family to once again become whole, but he was powerless to do that by himself; he was a man of outspoken words and a vulgar to boots, he didn't understand the role of being a much needed "mother" figure enough. So… perhaps, just maybe this would be what he needed to bring the family together. It was his last gamble, all or nothing… right now.
"I-it's not like… I'm pitying you or doing this out of some petty reason like that…" he stuttered, scratching behind his head awkwardly, "I-I mean… of course, I did sympathize. But you're a very… umm, strong woman, Yoshiko. I didn't think that you'd appreciate such thoughts… err, sexist issues aside… what am I saying?"
Yoshiko blinked. She was trying to process what Nanjirou was saying. It made some sense, but it was just wasn't enough common value in the said senses. They way he stuttered his explanation and such wasn't helping to convince her that his earlier lines were done without the feeling of pity.
"What I'm trying to say is… let me help you, Yoshiko." the former athlete said with sudden resolve, "Let me help you, and myself along with it. I know that, together, we can."
The silence that followed in stillness was one of the most uncomfortable situations Nanjirou ever found himself to be in. Facing the world's top tennis player in a Grand Slam final was nothing compared to this; his mind wandered back to the time when he proposed Rinko and cringed.
That was one of his worst moments. How did Rinko ever felt prompted to accept it anyway, now that he thought about it?
Not receiving any reaction and feeling the tense atmosphere built up with every passing second, Nanjirou gently shook the older woman.
"Yo-Yoshiko…?"
Startled out of her stupor, the brunette woman averted her doe eyes with blatant edginess, "Nanjirou, I don't… I don't think you know what you're doing." Yoshiko murmured quietly, trying to avoid those golden eyes locked on her. "You're not… thinking clearly and—"
Another awkward silence came between the two; the silence was suffocating, nervous, and fragile.
Then, suddenly, Nanjirou laughed – albeit it was an awkward one and raised his hand to scratch the back of his head with a goofy grin on his face. "Aa-ahaha… I, I guess you're right. Forget what I just said, I'm just spouting nonsense anyway!" He plastered a goofy grin that seemed to be out of place.
Yoshiko couldn't help but feel relieved, but a little hurt at that. She had sincerely hoped he was going to just wave it all up but it seemed that when he did, she couldn't help but longed a little for that offer; a moment of guilt and now a total withdrawal. Nanjirou was sincere, she knew. But it just didn't work out that way.
Did it?
But even through her own pain, she couldn't help but feel slightly bothered about what he had said about helping himself along with her problem.
As she poured the last cup of sake for Nanjirou, both avoiding the other's gaze while stealing glances like a couple of shy high school students without the usual chatter filling the air, Yoshiko pondered about something.
What was troubling him?
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
It had been days since she last saw Nanjirou after that incident. She couldn't help but feel like the man was avoiding her because he never asked her to pour his sake again like usual and she hadn't been able to work out enough courage to approach him without his first move. But considering what had happened, she thought that the two of them needed some space.
Alone. To think.
About everything.
God.
This was starting to get much too complicated for her.
But it sure didn't help her feeling a little lonely with the loss of her usually boisterous friend. Usually, Nanjirou would entertain her and ease her troubles with his lame jokes and flirtatious mannerisms. How, oh how had she came to be ever so used to his presence and never realizing it before?
A few days without him suddenly seemed to be far too lonely… and cold. No, she didn't believe that she loved the brunet man in that way and was sure the feeling was mutual. There was affection, fondness, and love in a jumbled mix like a myriad of emotions, though they lacked in passion. It was the kind that grew from togetherness, a need to protect, time, mutuality, and understanding. They were no longer young, believing that they still held love for their late respective partners in life.
She was lost in her thoughts, immersed in her ponders as she stood in the kitchen while wiping an already dried tray, when she heard her name called rather furiously from somewhere behind her and it effectively jostled her out of the said reverie. Turning around, she saw a tousled looking Yamazaki Maya running toward her with an flustered expression on her small, pretty face and teary, red eyes.
Yamazaki had been one of the prettiest girls in Daishoku with her shoulder length brown hair, her wide, doe coloured eyes, and her cherry red lips. She never talked to her more than necessary before, considering their age difference and everything else, but now the girl came with a furious expression twisting her face; her trembling lips pressed into a thin line and her eyebrows scrunched together tightly as her fists clenched.
"You! It must have been something you did, Fuji-san! I'm sure of it!" Yamazaki indicted as she pointed an accusing finger at the older woman, two of her friends trying to placate her to no anvil. She seemed to be quite frustrated since her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
Surprised of the sudden accusation out of the blue, Yoshiko couldn't help but expressed her confusion in both expression and literary.
"You must have said… or, or did something to him! That's why he didn't come here anymore! Isn't it?! You! Tell me—!" Yamazaki yelled disjointedly, her words not making enough sense to Yoshiko to comprehend immediately. "What did you say to him?!" she screeched again, struggling against the two other women holding her arms each in a restraining grip from launching herself at Fuji matriarch.
"Umm… m-may I…" Yoshiko started hesitantly, unsure of what to say at the emotional display when the petite looking brunette finally slouched weakly while leaning against the one of her friends. She was accused of something she didn't know and it had seriously offended the young woman to land her in such a distress. The problem was, she didn't remember what she did. "May I know… what is wrong?"
Nanami, a calm redhead, was the one who spoke. "Nanjirou-sama never comes anymore." Nanami answered in the stead of Yamazaki, who was starting to sob quietly beside her, as the taller woman patted on the girl's thin shoulder. "Maya-chan assumed that it has something to do with you since… well, you're his favourite attendant and you're the last to see him before he went missing… for nearly two weeks and a half now."
Suzuki added to her explanation, "And he never missed coming here for more than a week since the last five years, so we thought…"
Understanding dawned to the brunette Fuji. Yoshiko turned her eyes once again to Yamazaki. Yoshiko knew that Nanjirou often spoiled her with small gifts and praises because she was like a daughter he never had. Nanjirou once confided to her, because she was around Ryoga's age and had the similar temperament with Nanjirou's nephew turned adopted son. She reminded him of a son who distanced himself from his father.
Though at first Yoshiko also thought that Nanjirou had some kind of indecent motives on the young woman that she disapproved with not too mild distaste, but her long standing and deep friendship with the brunet man had changed that opinion. Flirtatious and lecherous as he came across to be, the former athlete never did anything insolent towards her nor any of the waitresses.
This young woman, however, seemed to perceive his intentions quite differently. She apparently harboured a different kind of affection for the older man who suited more as her father more than anything else; she was infatuated by his generosity. Yoshiko thought that Nanjirou was aware of it. She was sure that the former athlete must have his fair share of women before his marriage and caught the much too feminine gestures Yamazaki emitted. The way she shyly glanced at him, her tone of giggles, and the way she moved – it was more than a few times where he'd look at Yoshiko's way with pleading eyes to get him out of a situation.
Nanami and Suzuki bowed slightly to Yoshiko and apologized for her friend's hysteric condition before leading her away from the older woman, all the while trying to comfort the sobbing girl. Even as they left her in the corridor, Yoshiko never noticed though. Her mind wandered as she stared at her own geta, her hands fisting her striped yukata.
'Nanjirou…'
Flashes of her friend's almost childish grin, the way his eyes lit up when he was excited each time he talked about his sons, his flirtatious mannerism when he wriggled his eyes at young girls, the kindness behind his foolish façade, his calloused fingers and rough, boisterous voice, his quiet strength and hidden pain of his past that he attempted to conceal with his cheerfulness though he was hurting inside, the way he actually cared about a widow like her without minding what other might thought of his association with her, and his wordless acceptance…
He was a man very different from that of her husband. The former patriarch of the Fuji family had always been a serious, uptight man who was both hardworking and dependable who worked seventy-hours a week and sometimes came home for dinner. Discipline as he was, he'd play golf with his clients on weekends and sometimes went out for some drinks with his colleagues.
But all in all, her late husband was everything Nanjirou was not. And Nanjirou was everything her husband wasn't either. She never imagined herself getting along with someone as laidback and carefree, yet unpredictable, like the former tennis pro because she liked to believe that she herself was an organized woman by nature.
But… but…
Closing her eyes, she felt something swelling inside her chest.
Opening her eyes, a flash of determination and resolution flashed her usually calm eyes and then, Yoshiko did something she never did or ever imagined before.
"Fuji-san? Fuji-san, where have you been?! The guests are—!" Manager Sasaki appeared from the end of the hallway, looking irritated as he approached the pensive woman lost in her thoughts.
"Fuji-san, what are you…?" the old man was about to tap on Yoshiko's shoulder when suddenly the brunette whirled around and startled him. She shoved the tray she was holding into his hands, which he accepted instinctively, and looked into his beady eyes with a dogged look.
"I'm going out." she grounded out bluntly.
"What?!" Sasaki was shocked and confused as he stared at the woman, before he looked down on the tray, and again at Yoshiko who already took off as fast as her geta and yukata clad figure could carry her, while ignoring Sasaki's protests and threats in various level.
She was gambling, she knew. But she'd take that chance. It was about time for her to; she had spent way too much time holding on to the past and keeping up an appearance as a wife left by her husband. Was it too selfish to do as she pleases once in a while?
She couldn't bring herself to really care.
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
If the situation wasn't so awkward, Yoshiko would've laughed at the whole irony of the situation. To think that about eleven years ago, back when she first saw this lecherous man between the flocking girls, she had been the one to go through measures to avoid this man she was now desperately trying to hold up now.
She wasn't even all clear about how she ended up at Nanjirou's doorstep when she had never seen the house before. She had merely remembered Nanjirou telling her a bit of the neighbourhood and a small description of the house. It was an elite neighbourhood, as to be expected from a former world class athlete.
Of course, Nanjirou once mentioned about his wife being a famous attorney in America who was paid quite a handsome amount per hour. He never spoke more of her though, because it seemed to bring him so much pain of longing, even after eleven years. As a woman, she respected Nanjirou while both congratulating and envying slightly of her best friend's lady love. The house was large and quite posh, even when it was lacking greatly in woman's touch. It seemed almost too… lonely.
Now here she was slightly trembling as she reached to press the buzzer for the door. A million thoughts raced through her head, including the fact that she could've mistaken the house yet still a part of her mind held firm to press the button. Inhaling a quick breath of courage, she pushed the button slightly and was shaken as the door swung open quite suddenly and she was faced with an extremely weary looking Nanjirou who looked like he hadn't shaved for days. She saw him stiffen and his expression change to uncertainty as he tried to withdraw and shut the gate once more.
"Wait, Nanjirou! Why are you avoiding me?" Yoshiko protested, finding her voice as she stopped him from shutting her out by holding the door and sliding in before Nanjirou managed to find the strength that would surely overpowered hers.
"I-I'm not avoiding you!" Nanjirou said a bit quickly as he headed with a brisk pace towards the front door to avoid looking at Yoshiko. He had stayed away because he hadn't wanted to be face with this confrontation after his silly proposal and now he was going to have to face it anyways.
"Liar!" Yoshiko said trying to keep up with his brisk walk. Whatever dialogue she had planned on before flew from her head as she saw Nanjirou's exhausted form for the first time like this – she hadn't been the only one who was tired. Yet, Nanjirou had been her pillar of support for years, wordlessly as he did. And then she realized; she never did anything for her friend, did she?
Giving up, she stood watching him continue on; tears welling up in her doe eyes as she did.
"Why me?!" she blurted out in a desperate voice, "God, Nanjirou, answer me… why me? I-I need to know…" Yoshiko sobbed softly, her voice was trembling and her hands were shaking with emotions. "Why me? Why this widow with three children? I'm almost fifty… Nanjirou, I'm six years older than you, for God's sake! Why did you ask me that?"
Nanjirou paused in motion. Slowly he turned around and felt slightly torn between comforting her and admonishing her for even thinking that he'd judge her by age and status of a widow with three children. He swallowed as she slowly made her way towards him tearfully until the stood there no more than a feet wide distance from one another.
"Please, I can't lose you…" Yoshiko had her face cast down as she sobbed before she walked up to him and suddenly gripped the shirt Nanjirou was wearing with her thin, trembling hands almost desperately. Nanjirou smiled despite himself and hesitantly, bringing his arms up to hug and comfort the brunette. He was never good with comforting people, but he patted on her small back encouragingly just the same. If he was going to make a change, now would be the time to start as well.
Clinging to the taller man and feeling far more secured in years after her husband's death, the memory of hardship and coping and her children's future, she made up her mind. Then again, she supposed she made up her mind the moment she came to look for him; something she should've done long ago.
It was almost too late. But it wasn't too late; it almost seemed as if God decided to pity her for a chance and gave her a second chance to fix everything, and she'd be damned if she screwed it up again.
-
-
Fuji's Household
Tokyo, Japan
Two days later
It was a little after dinner time that Yoshiko managed to actually speak and gathered her children to the small, make do dining room adjacent to the living room where Yusuke and Akiko were drawing right now. Apparently, her perceptive children had noticed her jumpy, rather quiet – almost too quiet – mannerism that night; even the gullible Yuuta noted the way she was tense and anxious throughout the whole dinner. The matriarch had been acting rather strange and it was troubling them.
"There's something… I want to discuss with the three of you…" she spoke cautiously, quietly. Wanting to drop the bomb as gently as possible, if that was even possible that is. Yoshiko appeared to be deadly serious that all three of them felt an uneasy sensation building up in and tightening their stomach, stiffening their back.
"What is it, okaa-san?" Shusuke was the one to break the tense silence. He figured he should be the one to continue the conversation since Yuuta and Yumiko were still dealing with the adjustment that their sweet mother wanted to talk and looking as if she was about to reveal that the world was ending tomorrow – which he hoped wasn't because his mother looked as if it was going to.
It took Yoshiko a full minute to herself before she patted herself on the back mentally and finally breathed out, "… Tell me honestly, what do you think of me getting married again?" Yoshiko said, congratulating herself for not stuttering and not choking on her own words while looking from her oldest to youngest child, trying to gauge their reaction while uncertainly clenching her own hands in her own insecurity at this big step.
As expected, there was a phase of complete, leaping silence answering her statement. She bit back the urge to be frantic as she patiently waited for their opinions on the matter while chewing nervously on her lips.
Then she heard Yuuta making a small, nervous chuckle. "Okaa-san, d-don't joke around like that—"
"I'd rather be doing something else than gathering you all here just for the amusement of such a joke now, wouldn't you think?" Yoshiko said scanning their faces again with narrowed eyes, her voice a little sterner than before.
"At your age?!" Yuuta screamed, looking as if he couldn't find the right words to express his denial. "Okaa-san, you can't be serious! A woman of your age remarrying is—is—"
"I think you should've done it years ago." Yumiko finally spoke up calmly, interrupting Yuuta's tirade.
"Onee-san!" Yuuta looked her way incredulously, not believing the oldest child of the Fuji family saying it so easily. He had always believed that both his sister and mother were women of logic and traditions; he'd never thought of his mother even mentioning the thought of remarrying at this age and his sister agreeing so flippantly as if they were deciding on a dinner theme.
"Yumiko?" Yoshiko looked her way; both relieved of Yumiko's approval – one she was worried about the most, considering the strength of their bond, Yumiko's position as her oldest daughter, and her disposition as a woman who had just recently divorced – and a bit startled of her immediate, ready acceptance of the situation.
"I approve of it." Yumiko nodded, smiling at her mother. It was surprising and to be honest, she was a little unprepared. She had thought that her mother would never even breach the subject. But at the same time, she was… glad that her mother finally founded a way to move on from her years of mourning.
They could finally move on, at last and end this vicious cycle of endless bad luck.
"You can't be serious! This is crazy!" Yuuta suddenly stood up, slamming his palms against the wooden surface of the table and nearly toppling his stool at the same time, "Okaa-san is already—I mean, she—"
Yumiko turned to face her youngest brother and her hazel eyes narrowed in mild admonishment. "For a woman with children to live without a man supporting her is difficult, Yuuta. You've seen how mother struggle to feed us when we weren't able to do anything else." Yumiko's eyes darted toward the living room, where Akiko and Yusuke were giggling as they doodled on pieces of papers using crayons. Her eyes softened maternally, "You're still young, Yuuta. You wouldn't understand."
Yuuta flabbergasted, unable to return her argument; well, that was not fair.
"Onee-san…"
"The both of you were still too young at that time, but I was old enough to understand how much okaa-san loved otou-san. I know how much the death of otou-san effected her." she subtly ignored how Yoshiko stiffened and flinched on the side at the mere mention of that horrible incident so many years ago. "I know she's been avoiding this issue because the memory of otou-san that okaa-san wanted to preserve, but reality isn't so kind now, is it?"
Shusuke, despite the smile, saw how Yumiko's eyes told so much more than that. Surge of hatred for that man who once promised his sister so much happiness that turned out to be one big bastard surfaced. He didn't really understand what happened, but all he needed to know was the fact that his sister was hurt because of it.
Shaking his head, his mind pondered the current situation. Despite her mother's serious but unassuming tone, his mother's nervousness behind her words told him she honestly wanted them to accept her decision – the almost pleading look in her eyes spoke of volume and he knew that this meant a lot to her. He just couldn't say no, he knew it'd hurt his mother and that was the last thing he'd want.
After everything she sacrificed for them, after being so selfless for so long, tolerating everything from scorns to sneers from those around them, it was about time they gave something back in return. All his mother ever asked was a simple 'yes', and he was sure that his mother had thought about it thoroughly before asking them. Fuji Yoshiko was simply that kind of woman. After all that she did for them, Shusuke hardly thought that this was something too much to ask for.
"I don't think okaa-san would do something like this without thinking about everything carefully. I want to believe in her, like I've always did ever since she gave up her life for us."
"Yumiko…" Yoshiko noticed how crestfallen her vigilant daughter looked, knowing that she was reminiscing her pathetic excuse of an ex-husband; regret and grief rolling off her in gentle waves. Her words touched her.
Yumiko averted her face once more and beamed at Yoshiko wearily as she shrugged, "A divorce breaks a woman at first. But then, it then, it makes them stronger than ever."
Yoshiko couldn't help but smiled. Her daughter was indeed a strong woman; stronger that she could ever hoped herself to be and ever believed to be.
"I'm fine with whatever okaa-san decides, onee-san." Shusuke smiled as he titled his head to one side, surprising the three and pulling all the attention to himself. Obviously, the look Yuuta gave noted his disappointment. He was his last resort, last chance of support to his objection and Shusuke, for once, didn't give in to Yuuta's whim.
It was like that in the Fuji family; how many voices against how many.
"As long as she's happy… then I shall not be one to hinder her happiness. She deserves that much." the brunet tensai smiled amiably with a nod.
"Shusuke…" the oldest woman in the room couldn't help the wave of happiness rolling off her at his gentle approval. Although she was a little sad about Yuuta's abrupt rejection, she was glad that Shusuke understood.
Yuuta was at lots of words for a few minutes as they looked at him, waiting for his answer expectantly. He gritted on his teeth and threw his hands up in the air, "Fine! Do whatever you like!" he finally barked, turning to leave the room. "See if I care!"
Yoshiko stood up when she saw Yuuta's retreating back and was about to chase after him to splutter her apologize when Yumiko stopped her. She was not used to having her children at odds with her.
"Leave him be, okaa-san. He needs his own space to think and he needs to grow up." Yumiko said with composed tone, "He can't stay like a baby forever."
Yoshiko looked lost for a moment, torn between sitting down and staring at where she last saw her youngest son's back. Finally, she sat again. Sighing wearily, she took her mug and sipped her green tea – she needed that.
It wasn't like she was expecting everything would go smoothly and full of warm acceptance, there was bound to be hindrance in a matter as sensitive as this. But still, Yuuta's blatant rejection hurt her because she felt as if she had disappointed him as a mother and she had hoped that none of this to happen.
Yumiko now turned her attention to the oldest boy of the family, "Shusuke, what made you approve of this so quickly?" she asked, earning a few minutes pause from the brunet; she knew best that her older otouto was a voice of reason. Young as he was, Shusuke was far wiser than his age proposed him to be. His acceptance didn't surprise her that much, but it piqued her curiosity nonetheless.
Shusuke didn't answer immediately this time, as he took his time to think of the best way to express his thoughts. "Like you've said, onee-san, Yuuta and I never knew otou-san." the brunet looked down on his mug of green tea with calm blue eyes, "Perhaps it's a bit cold saying this, but I'm not onee-san or you, okaa-san. I never had the chance to know and actually love this man we called otou-san."
The older women widened their eyes at his words.
"… Unlike Yuuta, I can't bring myself to appreciate sentimental thoughts more than the reality. I know that he's my father and by nature, I came to love him like any other children would." the smile turned a bit weaker, "But I only know him from stories and pictures. As much as I wanted to believe that he loved us, he was never there. It's unfair for me to say that because otou-san passed away in an accident, but he was never once there when I wanted him to be. And as a child, I felt a bit… sad." he paused, taking a sip of his tea before continuing again. "We never really had time to nurture that bond and ashamed as I am to say this, I did not feel less… compelled to let the memory of otou-san take away okaa-san's life nor do I really long the figure of a father. I'm happy enough with just you, onee-san, and Yuuta… okaa-san…"
Both Yoshiko and Yumiko couldn't help but feel a bit sad. The sweet Shusuke actually thought that way of the matter; just how much broken he was inside that he didn't show? That neither of them was aware of?
"But if this man of okaa-san's choice can make her life easier, if this is what must be done to make her smile again, I'll give my consent." Shusuke continued with a usual smile now, "I'd willingly accept him for okaa-san."
To be said that she was taken aback was true. She had known of the fact that her second brother was by far more mature compared to boys of his age and that the so-called tensai had always been a pliant and an unassuming character; one that approached and handled situations with a levelled mind. But the way that he calmly received and accepted this sudden and unexpected news were out of her imagination.
"You're so mature, Shusuke." Yumiko said with a gentle smile as she shut her eyes, leaning back on her stool as she crossed her arms. "… I just hope that Yuuta would look it through your eyes soon enough, before any further damage is done."
Yoshiko and Shusuke nodded, knowing exactly what she meant.
-
-
Alexandria Hotel Ballroom
New York, America
11.00 AM
"Within the first few days of its release, almost a million copies of your newest photo collection book have already been sold and it is currently sitting on the top of the charts! What do you think of that, Snow-san?"
"Hee," a stifled yawn was heard instead.
"It is said that you will once again reigned as the Most Wanted Model this year, securing your second time in the running for that title! Do you think so as well?" asked a random entertainment news reporter.
"Maybe." he answered with a clipped tone.
"Snow-san, is it true that you will be the new icon of Shiraishi Ayane signature brand for the upcoming autumn and winter collection?" the prim, petite reporter lifted her face to the raven haired young model sitting next to his photographer and fellow models lined up by the long table on the podium and her painted red lips curled into a sweet smile.
"Hn." Echizen Ryoma replied casually while leaning back against the chair, his face nonchalant and never once did he turned to the reporter. He was actually trying his best not to look bored already since his manager would nag if he did. Not that the manager wasn't already going to nag him about this expression. He could already imagine Yoshida's pout – yes, the man could be that overbearing at times – and his manager's melodrama later.
The reporter didn't seem to be discouraged by the least. After all, the golden eyed model was famous for his indifference, one of the traits that made him all the more desirable. "I see… I'm sure your fans will be very excited with the new revelation!" she commented charmingly, never giving up turning her feminine allure on Ryoma – who didn't care.
Ryoma leaned forward and propped his chin on his hand, his eyes showing no concern whatsoever, "Aa…"
"Snow-san, do you have a comment or two about the latest rumour about something going on between you and the new singer in your trade of the uprising Augustine, Chris?"
Ryoma shrugged, "No comment."
The reporter frowned at the monotone, equally monosyllabic answers. This was getting really old fast. "But the rumours have it that Chris' latest song and one of his most popular pieces, 'Forever in Love', was inspired by his admiration for you, Snow-san! Even his lyrics are dedicated for you!"
Golden eyes zeroed on her for the first time and she was startled with the alertness smouldering in those usually lethargic eyes. A few of the more veteran out of the ten present models lined beside him held back their sigh and amused snickers; reporters and their kicks for scandals. Scandals were the main enemies of their profession and she should've known better to test the water around a certain moody model with the temper as short as any fuse could get.
Crossing his arms on the satin white table cloth, he leaned forward; eyes narrowing dangerously as a cold smirk touched his lips. "I think the idea of forever love is a laughable nonsense, honestly." the garnet carved lips curled wickedly, "Nothing's forever to me; so don't say shit like it was inspired from me."
It was the longest sentence the raven had said in quite a while and it was clear from his venomous that it was time to close and change the subject before he snapped.
The reported looked out of it for a while, "So… I-I see, umm… well then! How about the statement from Miyahara Shizuka who—"
He cast the panicking reporter a cold glance and smirked silently. Stupid woman. She could've done better than that if she wanted to squeeze something out of me.
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
Leaning on his luxurious leather couch, Atobe laced his fingers together and glanced over his top model who ceremoniously tossed himself at his expensive sofa. "Ore-sama personally thinks that you've scarred that journalist for life," Atobe muttered without a tone of sympathy but more as a casual, quietly amused remark.
Ryoma gave the diva a look before shrugging with closed eyes; sprawled almost too temptingly on the velvet couch of Atobe's extravagant and masculine office on the top of the building; his posture rather provocative out of habit and careless, making his shirt rode high enough to expose a glimpse of his smooth, flat stomach.
If Atobe wasn't so immune to this raven haired teen's charm, he'd have done something really uncharacteristic of his regal disposition and jumped at him; because even the royalty needed to get some release was his justification. He reprimanded Ryoma to never, a certain someone said and he quoted, let his guard down around others who didn't have 'ore-sama's self-esteem and control', or so he said.
"… She was being a pain." he offered all but an explanation. He pushed away an offending bangs and caught sight of his slightly long, black lacquered nails and pondered why should they insisted on him upholding that 'devilish' image from his latest photo book theme.
"You really look like a devil!"
His eyes softened as he recalled that voice privately inside his head; affection and almost overwhelming emotions threatened to cloud his judgement immediately at the mere thought.
"They said that you're the spitting image of an angel in front of the camera, but I think that you're more like one that had fallen from grace!"
He casually brushed back his dark hair that brushed against his shoulders tentatively. Indeed, he had bewitching eyes; eyes that pierced into the soul, tearing it to shreds by its charm as or so the magazines dramatized. They always said that he was like a succubus, the personification of the devil itself. He took pride in it, but he wasn't as vain as they believed him to be.
"So, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about, Monkey King?" Ryoma said flippantly as he leaned further into the couch, turning his eyes to the handsome diva and earning him a scowl.
"Don't address ore-sama with that horrendous nickname!" he frowned, before pausing to continue a few seconds later. "A cousin of ore-sama's—" Atobe paused momentarily, searching for a word, "—acquaintance—" he tested the word at the tip of his tongue before he deemed it right enough, "is quite the avid admirer of yours."
The raven haired teen raised an eyebrow, "Uh-huh… and?" Vaguely, he could see where this was going though.
"And a few days ago, ore-sama had said to his acquaintance that he'll let this acquaintance's cousin personally photograph you up-close."
The young model merely stared, torn on feeling amused or annoyed all at once.
"Of course, ore-sama will never let just anyone touch his brat. So we made a little…" he flipped his hair artistically; voice haughty almost unbearably, "exchange."
"Really…?" Ryoma drawled slowly with a smirk, "What kind of exchange?" This time, his tone showed a little more than faint amusement and curiosity.
"That is not for you to concern yourself with." Atobe waved his right hand, almost dismissing the other male, "What you need to know is that you, brat, are going back to Japan in a week from now and become Todai's photography club's main subject for the national photography contest."
The slender brows meshed together in displeasure as Ryoma's lips twisted into a disapproving frown, "I thought I told you that I don't want to go back?"
"A change of environment might do you some good."
Ryoma ran an impatient hand through his dark locks, "Monkey King, if you haven't noticed, that is exactly why I moved half way around the globe." the model snapped, glaring at the diva. "It doesn't make sense if I go back now, does it?"
Atobe snorted in all of his haughtiness, "You already proved yourself enough, brat. No one will dare say anything even if you do go back now. Ore-sama thinks it's about time you go home and face up to reality."
Their eyes met, each unrelenting. Ryoma could see how serious his… half-hearted friend cum enemy and sponsor for the last year was as he spoke.
"You can't force me."
"You can't run away forever." Atobe shot back, "And I can force you, brat."
Ryoma scowled.
"Seriously, brat." the young heir dramatized with a sigh, "Ore-sama already told you that he'd give you a life. Get used to it."
The younger male rolled his eyes exasperatedly as he leaned back on his seat, before looking away in a nonchalant shrug, "Says the monkey who's still running away from his betrothal."
The diva glared his top model, "Shut up."
"What? You did run away from your fiancée." Ryoma fought back a wicked snicker, "Well, seeing what it looked like, I would've done the same though."
Atobe glared. "Brat, just do what ore-sama tells you to," he snapped although the bite in his words was not as harsh as his words suggested. "This is a good chance for you to proof whatever it is you're so intent on proving."
"Monkey King, honestly…" Ryoma sighed exasperatedly as he leaned back onto the sofa, his legs crossed and hands laced together. Pressing his right elbow against the armrest, he raised his eyebrow at the handsome heir of Atobe. "You just want to get laid."
The heather haired diva flabbergasted. "Ore-sama does not!" Atobe huffed indignantly; if there was anything to ruffle the smooth, arrogant heir of Atobe, it would be his brat—nothing was ever truer. "And again, such crude wordings coming from you, brat!"
"Oh, I didn't think that monkeys would be in the heat during the summer. Is my wordings too much for your delicate ears?" the younger teen said with a teasing smirk, "But then again, they do come in varies, ne saru-sama?" Ryoma entertained himself by trying and almost always managing to burst a vein or two of the narcissistic diva, a hobby he had taken up ever since their high school days. The way his face went red and his body trembled with anger was always an amusement; it chased away his boredom.
"Silence, you impertinent brat!" Atobe snorted, although he'd claim that a royalty born like himself would never make that kind of sound. Ryoma never bothered to correct him. "Just make sure that you don't cause any trouble, you hear. Oh, and ore-sama doesn't want to hear anything, absolutely anything, about that man ever again—are you listening, brat?"
Ryoma's sulk deepened, but shut his eyes and conceded for a change. He really didn't want to talk about that. He was never in the mood when they came down to that particular discussion.
"Che. Whatever, saru."
Both knew they held the other's ace cards but even now, both still didn't know who was holding the winning hand. Despite that, Ryoma was in no rush to win; he liked the volatile pace his life was going at and as long as he stuck with his mother's last name, no one would dare question his relation to his old man. The challenge now would be seeing his dearest brother and father again after so long.
This could get ugly. Really ugly.
He was really going home after more than a year leaving his father and brother and not bothering to send even a word during that period. To be honest, he didn't know if he was ready for this. Ryoma sighed exasperatedly. He hated this.
Damn that monkey.
End Note : Umm, and so… that's the second part. Not much FujiRyo in this chapter, but I promise that's coming along soon enough. After all, he hasn't even heard of his father's marriage yet ^^
Responses :
Hikaru-Star -- The next ones might not be as long… we're just trying to cram the prelude here to attract you lot. Ehehe… yes, Mitsuru is for real. And nude photos…? (Gene : "I wouldn't mind seeing a nude Ryoma any day…" ~ finger on lips) (Moon : "…")
alchino -- Keep on R&R, pretty please!
Deadly Regret -- Glad to catch your attention. Yes, that's the whole point of making this prologue such a teaser but enough to give some back grounds.
SerinG -- Well… (Gene : "For that, it's really up to the mood. We can't force Ryoma to be seme or uke, it just depends on the whim and the situation. But I think Fuji suited more for the chasing and the whole jazz because he is the older step brother, ne? Perhaps… a poll…?)
flying jade -- Of course!
PheonixShadow -- Please do, about the one-shots, we mean! So we can revive the fandom together and thank you for your compliment!
oOoAriakeoOo -- Ahaha, we don't want to actually force reviews out of the readers, but we're thankful that you thought this story is worth more. We tried to cover and enhance our speciality to make a more constructive story and yes, we gave it quite a lot of thoughts and changed so many from the original ideas. We hope that you enjoy this as much as we enjoy writing it.
wuzzgoinon -- In the name of all fangirls? That's pressure on us! We're honoured! Here you go, please review?
heidi-mayer87 -- So far, so good, huh…? Well, let us hope it will continue like that. Hmm, we agree with that. The most bothersome part is Perfect Pair and RyoSaku especially. For description, it's Gene's field. Tell her that and you'll get her head even bigger than it's already is. I think that the Thrill Pair action just have to wait for one or two more chapters. And for Ryoma really doing it or not… (Moon : "… Is he really doing it or not?!") (Gene : "Let's keep it a secret for now… te hee…!")
ToSet -- Here you go!
LucyMono -- Thank you! Were glad to share!
henriette -- Ryoga is the one who actually played tennis here. Dunno about the others though, haven't thought about it. Longish chapters are not exactly impossible, but it depends on our chapter intent. (Gene : "Is it really unique? It's just a whim.")
ThrillPair -- Indeed, it's been a while. Exactly the reason why we tried to make this story as interesting as possible in order to prompt the wonderful Thrill Pair fics to once again reign over the fandom! Actually, we thought that this is a little rushed. Thank God if you think otherwise… (Gene : "I don't think that Moon has ever been clear. Then again, the both of us got quite similar taste.")
Heart -- We promise that we'll try to update as often as possible. Well, as often as our life and other inspiration let us! (Gene : "Personally, I don't know if my stories are up to standard if you're used to Moon's fic, honestly… I'm not that good.")
who-8-mai-rice -- Thank you for the review! Please, by all means, stalk this! The two of us are greedy when it comes to reviews and we promise you more twists and even more vivid description to sate your taste! Be sure to review with this update!
Sweet3 -- A silent reader? Oh, don't mind about it. If you think we're good enough and reviewed, we're honoured to have you. (Gene : "I still think it's not descriptive enough on the background and emotions! Oh, The Art of Deception, eh? And of course, I too am a fan of Fated!")
nicki-gurl -- Hail the Thrill Pair! And we're just beginning!
Firey Chronicles -- Gene's trying to reduce the usage of her over-expressive description though. Should she? Anyway, if we don't get him into modelling, this story would lose its direction. And personally, we thought it's reasonable enough. Or was it?
wuzzgoinon -- … You reviewed… twice! Thank you so much! We hope to send you into another fangirl mode after this! And yes, of course! No Thrill Pair fic is decent enough without some dirty scenes. (Gene : "I'm planning to use similiar lemon writing to Stated With A Kiss if the readers don't mind… eh?")
PGMD - The title is a whim! (Gene : "We're supposed to change that!") Glad we didn't though, seeing your reaction. We longed for another Thrill Pair fic… sending S.O.S right now!
xxsisz4evaxx -- Not quite as long as the prologue chapter! Oh, you've seen nothing yet if you thought this much is predictable! But yeah, because of the summary… right… step-siblings… keep on R&R though! ^^
Lady of the Hunt -- Thank you!
Hana-chan -- Okay! Hope we live up to your expectation.
ElementalFoxGoddess -- Yeah… we sure hope so.
SamanthaLienne -- Yes! (Moon : "Thrill Pair is such love!")
MysticBlood -- Eh, wait until the next chapter for that! Yes, we love cliffhangers -- we're cruel like that. We've reduced the length though…
-Sayume- -- Okay! Please keep on R&R!
Ai -- You can use wicked. (Moon : "… Or so Gene said.")
o0Shira0o -- Wow, we love your review! Any author loves long reviews, at least we thought so. And you stalk us? Gosh, that's surprising because if you are, you're really quiet… (Gene : "I never see your name in Moon's review pages as well… and I certainly don't remember your name in mine… ne, Moon? Oh, and I approached Moon with a note in mind that she complements my style. I mean, yes, we're both twisted. I like writing powerful plots, but I'm not good at twisting and popping side OCs as good as Moon. Moon is very good at describing her stories, but I tried to expand her literacy aesthetic. And this wouldn't be the only story from us… as long as Moon is willing to put up with me.") We tried to bring the readers into the stories and to make this into a manga or anime is a far away, nonetheless beautiful dream. (Gene : "… I forgot about my fics!" ~ panic) (Moon : "She's hopeless…") You like the Imperial Pair? There would be quite a portion of Imperial Pair here! We've decided to reply by Moon's way. (Gene : "But I rarely got the chance to reply my reviewers… my deepest apologies. College life is just harsh.")
Cannon Girl -- Haha… sure, here you go!