The Beginning of Something New | By : mercyslays Category: Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Ohjisama > General Views: 1646 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis (Tennis no Ohjisama), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Maybe it was because he wasn’t doing anything. Maybe it was because he wasn’t sleeping. Maybe it was because he wasn’t involved. Whatever it was, it made Ryoma looked at the two tennis players in a new light.
They were long past the years of middle school and teenage stupidity but they weren’t quite out of adolescence. He, himself, was teetering on the edge of boyhood and manhood. Yet even when they were in their mid-teens, Ryoma knew they were unique. Special. He was attracted to them but he shrugged it off to puberty and hormones. He was only 12.
Now he’s in a university, majoring in Psychology. The other two finished and looking for new jobs. One to be a Lawyer, the other wanting to be an athletic doctor. Maybe it was because he was already involved with one of those two uniquely bright suns that he watched their game with intensity. Maybe it was because he played against both of them, praising their skill inwardly, downplaying it outwardly.
Or maybe he was just plain horny.
Love wasn’t even an option in his head.
The rhythmic bounce of the tennis ball was familiar but the force, the passion behind it. That was different. This battle of strength, skill and wits had been fought many times. However, this was the first time Ryoma truly watched.
Sweat dripping from their foreheads, shirts soaking in the moisture, the sun glaring down at the two fighters, the tight jaws gritting in concentration, wisps of hair dancing in a manmade breeze. Ryoma felt his throat tighten. He couldn’t look away.
It was the clash of titans, a glorious sight. He couldn’t blink his eyes, he had to keep staring, his body frozen and paralyzed. The Fanta can still only millimeters away from his lips, tilted, waiting for Ryoma to close the distance for a sip. He licked his lips in anticipation of the outcome.
The game was tied.
He closed his eyes for a brief instant, moisturizing the dry gems of gold. When he opened them, the game was over. The two champions were at the net, shaking hands. Angry at himself, Ryoma took a long gulp of his drink, hand clenching against his shorts. Setting the can down, he stood up and walked away.
A stray thought sneaked into his head and heart. I wonder if they kissed when I wasn’t looking. It was possible after all.
Ryoma could feel the tension between the two, the intensity of unspoken passion. A passion that seemed to be diminishing in his own love life. Kunimitsu… what happened between us? Am I not enough for you? Is that why you wanted to play him?
If he stayed, he would have seen the crestfallen look on his lover’s face and the supportive pat from his “competition” on Tezuka’s back.
“It’s going to be alright, Kunimitsu,” Sanada spoke quietly, sending a worried look at Ryoma’s back.
“I hope so,” The slighter man replied, leaning against his friend and rival, “Kami-sama, I dearly hope so.”
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