Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Sonata ❯ Prologue

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Aeirin
Tezuka makes a bet with Fuji as a last resort to salvage their damaged friendship, never imagining the victim of their game is Echizen Ryoma, the new foreign exchange student who shares a past with Fuji. And then there's Momo.

Anime/Manga: Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.22.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.2K | Visits: 1.6K | Status: Work In Progress

Disclaimer: Konomi
 
Ch 1: Insatiable Need
 
 
 
He wanted to cough up blood and rip out his hair. He wanted to break every one of his useless bones, but he couldn't. He could barely move. The bone wrenching pain in his limbs blinded him to everything else and as he tried desperately to grab onto the metal rail, he wondered: how in the hell did life get as screwed up as this? As expected, there was no reply; only silence.
Ryoma grimaced; a bitter, crooked smile appeared on his face as he regarded the silence in their room…was he naïve as to believe in miracles? His world can't be changed; nothing will alter. The doctors were adamant about it. They stressed the damage from “his” accident was irreversible. The bones will heal; his wrist would be fine, but the other, more serious injury…nothing could be done. There was no hope for recovery… none, whatsoever.
Tears he'd been suppressing for a long time threatened to overflow and unravel the stoic mask he had maintained for the last two weeks or so. The knowledge, the absolute certainty of never playing tennis again-well, life was over, wasn't it? What more existed in the world besides the perfection, the ecstasy that only tennis could offer?
There was no response. He didn't expect any, but distracted, Ryoma never noticed another weight climbing up the rails and sliding stealthily onto his bed until it was too late, until small breaths of air began tickling down the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. A familiar, silky voice whispered, “Don't, Ryoma. Stop being pessimistic; tennis isn't everything.”
Fuji Syuusuke…it was his roommate, the devil in disguise, the devil who loved to torment him, the younger boy being the only worthwhile entertainment for the tensai, so the tensai says. At the moment, Fuji was occupying himself with the region around Ryoma's neck: nibbling, caressing, teasing…he didn't stop, slowly making Ryoma unconscious of his surroundings, enthralled by the older boy's manipulations of the flesh. It was a while before boy wonder snapped out of his daze, realizing that Fuji was scheming. He scowled; auburn eyes annoyed for falling into the familiar trap, the one all victims of Fuji found themselves in, sooner or later. It was the trap Fuji set up before ending whatever amusements occupied him; granted, with Ryoma, the tensai always came up with a “suitable” apology to pacify a pissed-off boy wonder. He recalled, with embarrassment, what happened last week, when Fuji came in their room, his arms piled high with ice cream, whipped cream, cherries…no cups, Fuji replied cheerfully when Ryoma asked him, suspicious.
He had a right to be; what his tensai insinuated and pushed that night was permanently scarring. Ryoma felt himself thoroughly molested, horrified when their nurse walked in the room, while relieved that she walked in five minutes after Fuji finishing teaching Ryoma the correct way of eating sundaes, the process involving all sorts of motions with one's tongue, before pinning boy wonder to the bed and tickling the younger boy mercilessly.
When Fuji stopped tickling him, Ryoma recalled contently, their faces were close, noses almost touching each other. The tensai's eyes had widened in surprise before glittering with an unnamed emotion, indescribable to a twelve-year-old boy's mindset. Fuji had been uncomfortable by the closeness, boy wonder could tell. The older boy wasn't noticeably twitchy but the upward curve of his mouth was forced. Ryoma didn't question Fuji's odd behavior but instead, he enjoyed the moment, taking an opportunity to stare and commit to memory every feature of Fuji, assuming that this chance would never happen again, especially if Ryoma's feelings for his roommate were revealed.
Wanting to break the silence that resided in their room, Ryoma retorted childishly to Fuji's earlier comments: “Mada mada dane…easy for you to say, tensai…when have you cared enough to start trying for something? Besides human sacrifices, that is?” There was no response from Fuji besides a faint chuckle and a deceptive, “but I already have human sacrifices, Ryoma; without trying…” The older boy trailed off, before starting again, feigning innocence, “I have you; aren't you happy I visited you today?”
“I would if you weren't my roommate,” Ryoma replied, snappish, but he allowed the familiar arms of his only friend to pull him closer and into the other's embrace, reveling in another human's touch. His relatives didn't count; they treated him as if he was a delicate object, liable to shatter any moment, not that he couldn't blame them. Boy wonder, himself, did not react very well when the doctors told him the car accident, which killed his entire family, had damaged his optical nerve system beyond repair, deteriorating his eyesight until he'll become, one day, blind.
That day, the doctors added, would be soon.
As moments ticked away, Ryoma found himself becoming drowsier and drowsier, heaviness settling on his eyelids. The pain paralyzing his movements earlier had faded, replaced by a deep weariness which exhausted Ryoma, but despite that, all of that, he refused to fall into unconsciousness, willing himself to stay awake-savoring, enjoying, treasuring moments like this, moments where he snuggled in the arms of his precious person, one who would be horrified by the type of thoughts running through his mind, despite how much Fuji cared for him now.
He would be disgusted and horrified. Why Ryoma felt that way he did not begin to explore, rather assured that Fuji would reject him, repelled by how boy wonder was abusing their friendship. Just because Ryoma never had friends before didn't mean he was ignorant about the intricacies of friendship and its golden rule: never fall in love with your friends. Unfortunately, he had broken the rule, finding himself attracted to the sadistic, mysterious, and oddly vulnerable tensai. Masochist, he quipped inwardly.
Feelings…they were confusing. The knowledge that he was in love with Fuji made him feel happy and guilty at the same time; he was happy because he wasn't alone anymore. He had always been alone, even before the accident. His father urged him to improve tennis but never offered moral support: a distant parent, a cold parent, an uncomfortable parent. Ryoma didn't know what was worse: his fool of a father or his mother, loving but always away, off on a case. He never saw her. He had but the scarcest memories of her: a blurry face, the face of a woman whom his father would mention sarcastically…gruffly…lovingly…
They died in each other's arms. Two people who were wrong for each other; they died, their bodies entwined with another. They died, the perverted tennis player and kind-hearted lawyer. Their skulls cracked. The blood oozed out; red mixed with black. If Ryoma wanted, he could remember the exact details of the scene: his parent's bodies- Romeo and Juliet.
Slipping into unconsciousness…stunned…dismayed…wanting to hurl, pretend he didn't see what he did; his parent's bodies smashed together, broken. They were broken; they couldn't be sewed up; lifeless dolls…dead dolls.
Asleep…boy wonder was asleep for five weeks; asleep isn't the right word. No one expected him to wake up. They declared him a vegetable. People shook their heads. Others in the tennis community laughed, gleeful that Echizen Ryoma got what he deserved; icy bastard. His relatives wanted the family fortune. Who cares about the boy? We're feeding him, aren't we?
No one cared. No one bothered except for Fuji. Ryoma recalled how they first met. Ryoma woke up screaming, tears trailing down his cheeks. Fuji was trying desperately to calm the agitated boy down, not understanding why his new roommate was reacting like this; what kind of nightmares could he be having? What happened? Worried sapphire met dead gold, yellow dulled from nightmares, trapped in hell. It was a long time before Ryoma realized that he was in the hospital and not trapped in the car, flames bursting outside…boy wonder then collapsed, emotionally drained, into Fuji's arms, a stranger's arms. They stayed there the entire night, Fuji contemplating the recent events and wondering, thinking how interesting Echizen Ryoma was to him.
Ryoma felt Fuji shift, disturbing his musings, and decreasing the distance between the two of them; boy wonder's air supply was almost cut off. He loved Fuji, but it didn't mean the older boy would use him a teddy boy. He had to breathe to continue living, and he wanted to continue living, even as the victim of Fuji's sadism.
Especially as the victim of Fuji's sadism.
“What's wrong?” his friend's tone was gentle, caressing. Ryoma felt himself helpless but to smile softly, earlier thoughts dissipating as he concentrated on this moment, on an amused tensai. Fuji, in the two weeks they've known each other, had never seen Ryoma so out of character, finding the present situation amusing as hell, and Ryoma knew it.
“Fuji. I…”
Ryoma berated himself for being so hesitant. What's wrong with him? Why was he so incoherent today? He couldn't be thinking. No. No way…he wouldn't be as masochistic, his subconscious b was /b not telling him to do what he thought it was: confess to Fuji. Nop. Nada. As Ryoma continued his process of self-denial, he didn't notice the curious look Fuji gave him, and a hint of sadness in sapphire eyes.
“Yes, Ryoma?” the tensai's words were light, but they were laced with worry, or was it nervousness? He must be imagining things. Fuji Syuusuke couldn't be nervous. Why would he be nervous? Fuji was always composed. His smile was an invitation to “do your worst cause I'm going to have fun ruining your life.” So, why would he be acting like this?
The next words answered his question: “Ryoma, do you like me? Because I…”