Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ The Games We Play ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter Four

 

 

 

“Hello, Tezuka.”

 

The call was not unexpected, just unexpectedly late in coming.

 

“Fuji… How was the ceremony?”

 

“Our Golden Pair has never shown so brilliantly. It's a shame you couldn't be there, Tezuka. We missed you.” A pause. “Especially Echizen.”

 

“Echizen?”

 

“Yes. I think he was the most disappointed that you didn't attend.”

 

Echizen went to Italy? “But I thought…”

 

“He was preparing for the French Open? We all did, of course, but it was a wonderful surprise to see him again nevertheless.”

 

Tezuka cleared his throat. “I see.”

 

“Do you regret it?”

 

Tezuka felt the trap being laid but felt equally unable to avoid it. The most he could do was stay quiet as Fuji continued to slice into his soul with every melodic word.

 

“If you had known Echizen would be there, would you have come after all?”

 

“My absence was unavoidable.”

 

Another pause, longer this time. “Of course it was. And I'm glad to know that. I suspect he and I wouldn't have had such a lovely time otherwise.” A chuckle. “Echizen reminds me of you, Tezuka. He's exquisite in every way. He even dances like you.”

 

Tezuka's gut twisted. “You're going back to school tomorrow, aren't you? I thought I would hear from you sooner.”

 

“Ah yes, well, I just got back tonight.”

 

“You stayed for the entire week?”

 

“No, we took a short trip after the wedding.”

 

“We?”

 

“Echizen mentioned how close we were to Munich, but then we realized neither of us had ever explored the French countryside. And honestly, I no longer care to see Germany. I hope you understand, Tezuka.”

 

Only Fuji knew how to turn such lovely verbiage into a ruthless weapon against him. “It sounds like you enjoyed yourself.”

 

“Unfortunately we didn't see as much of the countryside as we had planned, but it's an amazing place. Do you remember, Tezuka? I told you once I thought Southern France would have the most beautiful inns in the world. I was right; the one Echizen chose for us was even more romantic than I could have imagined. I intend to visit again after graduation. Perhaps after the French Open next year, when Echizen and I both have more time…”

 

 

The alarm clock on the nightstand beeped, rousing Tezuka off the sofa and out of the unpleasant recollection. He only allowed memories like that one to creep in when he slept. But he wasn't surprised that particular memory surfaced today, especially after his lunchtime conversation with Echizen.

 

Echizen had sounded nonchalant when he mentioned his excursion with Fuji last year, and even Fuji had never specifically said anything happened between them at that time. Tezuka had convinced himself since then that Fuji's elusions were just that - wordplay designed to placate his bitterness towards Tezuka - towards their own time together - and insight Tezuka's jealousy.

 

Somehow, however, Echizen himself had removed all delusion from Tezuka's mind. Echizen's expression when he mentioned the trip left no doubt. He couldn't place it exactly, whether the shadow that passed over Echizen's golden eyes was due to reminiscent emotion or resultant guilt, but either one led to the same conclusion.

 

Less than sixteen months earlier, Fuji had indeed seduced Echizen. Tezuka also remembered that was also only the second time since his introduction that Echizen had lost the French Open. He was defeated in the semi-final round in fact, to none other than Kevin Smith.

 

Kevin Smith was one topic they hadn't covered during lunch, although Tezuka felt grateful for his oversight at the moment. Despite Echizen's declaration that he had pursued little activity of meaning outside of tennis, the intricacies of Ryoma Echizen's web denoted otherwise. How many others had been trapped by him over the past eight years? How many had trapped him in return? And how many of those people and experiences had unconsciously shaped him into the half-hearted player he had become?

 

Tezuka checked the clock and, briefly, wished he hadn't mentioned going out for dinner. Then again he revolted against fear as a rule; this time was no different. True, things had become more complicated than just fixing Echizen's tennis. Yet he would continue to unravel the mystery of Ryoma Echizen, and of course he did promise Echizen he would offer details of his own past since they'd last seen one another.

 

He noted that he had just enough time to select the venue for their second meeting and then get dressed. Even though he disliked the source, Tezuka chose to utilize one interesting piece of information as he called to the concierge desk for restaurant suggestions and to make reservations.

 

 

Tezuka stepped off the elevator and entered the hotel lobby at eight o'clock sharp. Considering the number of people meandering around the room, Tezuka expected to have to search for Echizen, if the younger man had even arrived yet.

 

Somehow his eyes needed no guidance. He simply looked toward the closest pillar; Echizen stood propped against it as though he were the one holding it in place.

 

It still took Tezuka several seconds to register the difference between night and day, literally. At the arena earlier Echizen looked and sounded older, yes, but in tennis garb he still looked like the old Echizen. No matter his own feelings, Tezuka could put them into perspective when dealing with the Echizen he once knew.

 

The man waiting for him now, however, was definitely not the child Tezuka remembered. Echizen wore a crimson dress shirt, black slacks and shoes, sans ball cap to hide the contrast between the color of his hair and eyes when the younger man lifted his gaze to meet Tezuka's…

 

“He's exquisite in every way.”

 

If this was the man Fuji encountered last year, then even Fuji had managed to understate Echizen's aesthetic maturity.

 

But then it appeared he wasn't the only one taken aback by his companion's appearance this evening. He suppressed a shiver as Echizen's golden eyes widened slightly, and the younger man deliberately looked over Tezuka from head to foot and back up again. The glowing eyes which returned to Tezuka's looked nothing like those of a child.

 

“Well, Buchou, it looks like I'm not overdressed after all.”

 

The reference to his former title helped Tezuka regain his composure, but only a little. “Not at all,” he replied, forcing his voice to remain neutral. He finally made his feet move until he stood in front of Echizen.

 

The younger man pushed off the stone column and grinned. “I suppose it's time for me to play tour guide.”

 

“That won't be necessary.” Tezuka ignored Echizen's confused expression. “We should go. The taxi will be waiting outside.”

 

“Taxi?” Tezuka nodded, then walked ahead, leaving Echizen to catch up. He did in less than three steps. “I thought you'd never been to Los Angeles before.”

 

“I haven't.” Tezuka nodded to the doorman as they passed into the warm evening air. He headed straight for the cab parked on the other side of the drive. “The concierge was most helpful in suggesting an acceptable place.”

 

Echizen hummed under his breath. “So where are we going?”

 

“West Hollywood.” Tezuka reached the cab and opened the door for Echizen, who made no move to get in. Years had passed since he'd seen such an astonished look on the younger man's face. “Is something wrong?”

 

Echizen's brow furrowed. “Not really. It's just…”

 

“If you have no objections, we should go.”

 

This time Echizen moved to the door but stopped after putting one foot inside. Echizen's visible apprehension melted away, replaced with a smirk. “Just so you know, Buchou,“ - Echizen's eyes gleamed predatorily - “anyone else would think this is a real date.”

 

Tezuka lifted one eyebrow. So Echizen's intention was to shock him, was it? Then the least he could do was return the attempted favor. When he answered Echizen's grin with a commanding glare, the younger man faltered.

 

“Then it seems the only person mistaken would be you.”

 

To Echizen's credit, he only stiffened slightly. His mouth became a firm line. He too seemed to understand now this showdown was finished, and he finally got into the car and slid over to make room for Tezuka. “Whatever you say, Buchou,” he muttered as Tezuka followed suit. “Just don't expect me to pick up the check for dinner.”