![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
PoT Fic: Fish or Cut Bait (Tezuka/Ryoma) Part Two.
Title: Fish or Cut Bait
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Tezuka/Ryoma, mild Momo/Kaido, implied Fuji/Tezuka
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: I don't own anything, etc. etc. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mimineko_chan for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
santa_smex.
Part One.
They take the bus out, to the same lake. The day is less hot, the atmosphere more comfortable. Tezuka brings food, supplies, Ryoma brings himself and some magazines. He's slightly awkward, in a way Tezuka hasn't seen him before. Ryoma is rarely uncomfortable, possibly because he only puts himself in situations where he's on top.
They talk, about small things. Tezuka asks about the intricacies of his application process, and what extra modules he decided to take for his first year. He asks whether Ryoma knows what he wants to do for a career (tennis) and whether he has a back-up plan (no). Ryoma asks whether Tezuka has a back-up plan (no), because he's not sure Tezuka's smart enough for medicine.
It makes Tezuka laugh, and that, for Ryoma, is the best feeling in the world. He wants to do that again, and again, and again.
“How's Akiko?” he asks.
Tezuka nods, smiles. “She's fine. She says hello. Says she's sorting out her brothers. Some crisis.”
“Crisis?”
“Apparently, her brothers started dating the same girl.”
Ryoma just smirks.
Tezuka has to bite his lip, when Ryoma starts to row and the boat goes around in circles. Ryoma notices him, looking out of the corner of his eye, and he laughs.
“I know you want to say it,” he says.
“You're not doing that right,” Tezuka says, but it's soft, a lilt, not an instruction. And Ryoma realises that he likes the feel of it. The softness. The familiarity.
“I'm doing it fine,” Ryoma returns. “You're the one doing it wrong.”
“I'm very good at rowing,” Tezuka says, affronted.
“You couldn't be captain of the rowing team. You couldn't be the prince of rowing. So shut up, and let me row.”
“You're scaring away the fish,” Tezuka says, but he's laughing.
“You are,” Ryoma says. “It's your laugh. It's unnatural. Not of this world.”
“I'm going to push you overboard,”
“Do it,” Ryoma says. “You wouldn't dare.”
Tezuka hauls Ryoma back into the boat. He's soaked to the skin and absolutely incredulous. Swear words Tezuka's never even heard are falling out of his mouth.
“You're a bastard,” he's saying, “The water tastes fucking horrible!”
“I think all the fish are gone,” Tezuka says, mournfully.
“Whose fault is that?!”
“Yours,” Tezuka says. “You're all mouthy.”
“Your girlfriend is the one who's mouthy,” Ryoma says, pulling his t-shirt down. It's clinging to him, and he feels a bit self-conscious. Luckily, it's not that cold. He'll dry quickly.
“She's not my girlfriend,” Tezuka says. “I don't have a girlfriend.”
“Do you like them mouthy?”
“What, girlfriends?”
“Anybody.”
“I like the lanky, sulking, petulant type,” Tezuka says. “Preferably wet, too. If they've got leaves in their hair, it's an added bonus.”
“I'll make sure to push Akiko into a lake, next time I see her.”
They don't fish, in the end. There's no fish to fish. They lie in the boat, heads together, legs dangling over the sides. It's a gorgeous day: not too warm, not too cold. Ryoma dries quickly. They don't say anything, just enjoy the peace and quiet. Ryoma eats most of the picnic, because he's got an appetite like a horse and Tezuka is too polite to stop him, so he'll take advantage if he can.
Tezuka is quiet and lazy, and Ryoma's not seen him like that before. He thinks that he likes it. They wouldn't have done something like this a few years ago, not alone and certainly not without discussing some team strategy, some new tennis serve. The latest match. Something to do with tennis. Ryoma feels that maybe, this is what it is to cut bait. When his father went to America, all he wanted to do was play tennis. That was his tunnel vision, his goal. Only he met Ryoma's mother, and he fell in love with her instead.
That's why Nanjiroh is so unfocused, so blurry. Ryoma would have understood him, on the day he went to America. They would have had the same unrelenting drive, the same selfish inconsideration of anything that didn't involve two rackets and a net. Only Nanjiroh is human: he has faults, he cares about other things, too, and Ryoma's tried so hard and so long to understand that, but always, ultimately, failed. Tezuka showed him the importance of tennis, gave him an angle from which to understand his father's competition. Later, Tezuka showed him the importance of everything else, gave him an angle from which to understand his father's laziness.
Ryoma doesn't want to be blurry. He wants to be focused and driven. But he always wants these moments: the peace and quiet. He wants friendship. He wants Tezuka in his life. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't want tennis to intrude. Suddenly, he understands why Tezuka chose not to go for the captaincy.
“You gave it up because of me,” Ryoma says, quietly. “I know it's a banned topic-”
“I gave it up because I wanted other things,” Tezuka says, just as quietly. “I didn't want to be your teacher anymore. I wanted to be your friend. I wanted to get to know you. I've spent so long being your teacher, putting a gap between us, in order to let you...evolve your game.”
“Will you regret it?”
“That depends,” Tezuka says, cheekily. “On how good a friend you are.”
“Oh, I'm supposed to prove my worth to you, right?” Ryoma says, poking him in the arm. “I owe you something, huh. I'm not changing. I'm not becoming some nice person. You want to be my friend, you can have me as your friend. I'm not changing. I'm going to annoy the living fuck out of you.”
“I look forward to it,” Tezuka says lazily, dangling his hand in the water.
“So, do we still get to play tennis?”
“Sure,” Tezuka says. “I'm still trying for the team. I just don't want to lead it.”
“Maybe I should apply for the captaincy,” Ryoma says. “Get back at you for all those times you pissed me off, three years ago.”
“You think you didn't piss me off?” Tezuka says, laughing with surprise. “You were a little brat. If you hadn't been so talented I'd have thrown you out the window.”
“I'm still a brat,” Ryoma says. “By the way.”
“Obviously,” Tezuka says. “I'm pedantic. I'm sure we'll make excellent friends.”
“We're talking about tennis,” Ryoma says. “Isn't that against the rules, Buchou?”
“I'll push you overboard again.”
“Stop me talking about tennis! I'm breaking a rule, Buchou! I'll have to run some laps! You'll have to punish me, I've let my guard down! I'm being care-”
Except, he isn't being careless. Tezuka's being careless. Because Tezuka is leaning over, and kissing him, in that annoyingly perfect, vaguely accidental way Tezuka has of doing everything. As if he's just decided to do it, and yet it's accidentally the greatest thing you've ever seen or done in your entire life. It isn't hard, or rough, or even all that decisive, but it's a side of Tezuka that Ryoma hasn't ever seen before. And, loathe as he is to admit it, he likes it.
It's not easy, in the end, to have a good kiss whilst lying down in a boat. Just as it's not easy to forge a friendship when there's all that history, all those years of having a solid dynamic. Just as it's not easy to fuse a bond between two people: a brat and a pedant. Nothing is all that easy. But in the end, if you try and you succeed at it, it's a sweet sensation. It's an exhilarating sensation. Ryoma kisses Tezuka back until his shoulders are hurting with the way the oars are digging into him, and then he draws back and opens his eyes.
The sunlight blares in, and Tezuka is looking at him, and his eyes are so soft and so open and so different, and it feels more right than anything. More right than smashing back a match-winning return, even.
Well. Maybe they're equal.
“So, we didn't fish,” Ryoma says.
“That's because you scared them all away,” Tezuka says. “Brat.”
“I was trying to use Fuji's metaphor,” Ryoma returns. “Pedant.”
“So in the end,” Fuji is saying, eying Oishi's notes. “Tezuka was a slutty host. He was supposed to be dating Akiko, not Echizen.”
“Well,” Oishi says. “I think he had some encouragement.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“And to be honest, that story isn't nearly as interesting as Kaidoh and Momo!”
“Even I didn't expect that,” Fuji says. “Who'd have thought that they'd enjoy homoerotic conflict so much?”
“I'm not sure their girls should have been allowed to team them up like that-”
“I think it's resourceful,” Fuji says. “Momo's girl liked rough and tumble, Kaidoh's liked homoerotic conflict. Girls are smart like that. They like to team up.”
“Not as smart as you,” Oishi says, smiling.
“Again-”
“You created this fundraiser to motivate Echizen into doing something about Tezuka.”
“Yes,” Fuji says, pleased. “I thought nobody would work it out.”
“And you knew that Tezuka wasn't going to take the captaincy?”
“I had a hunch.”
“The only thing I don't understand,” Oishi says. “Is how Akiko got Tezuka in the first place. She wasn't the highest bidder. Not by a long shot.”
“Ah,” Fuji says. “The other bidders...they dropped out of the running. Or so I heard.”
“But why Akiko? Didn't she have skeletons?”
“Hmn,” Fuji thinks. “She was like Tezuka. She had his drive, his need to succeed. She was Tezuka, without the tennis. She knew how to have fun. And she was like Echizen. She was mouthy, she stood up for herself. I thought she'd remind him of Echizen. And of himself.”
“I'm his best friend,” Oishi says, sighing. “And if I knew him half as well as that-”
“You're not obsessed, Oishi,” Fuji says, seriously. “I was obsessed. I made it my business to know him. I did the fundraiser to stop being obsessed. To cut bait. To stop fishing.”
“Did it work?”
“You tell me,” Fuji says. “Does it look like I've got a fishing rod in my pocket, or am I just happy to see you?”
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Tezuka/Ryoma, mild Momo/Kaido, implied Fuji/Tezuka
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: I don't own anything, etc. etc. Written for
mimineko_chan for santa_smex. Part One.
They take the bus out, to the same lake. The day is less hot, the atmosphere more comfortable. Tezuka brings food, supplies, Ryoma brings himself and some magazines. He's slightly awkward, in a way Tezuka hasn't seen him before. Ryoma is rarely uncomfortable, possibly because he only puts himself in situations where he's on top.
They talk, about small things. Tezuka asks about the intricacies of his application process, and what extra modules he decided to take for his first year. He asks whether Ryoma knows what he wants to do for a career (tennis) and whether he has a back-up plan (no). Ryoma asks whether Tezuka has a back-up plan (no), because he's not sure Tezuka's smart enough for medicine.
It makes Tezuka laugh, and that, for Ryoma, is the best feeling in the world. He wants to do that again, and again, and again.
“How's Akiko?” he asks.
Tezuka nods, smiles. “She's fine. She says hello. Says she's sorting out her brothers. Some crisis.”
“Crisis?”
“Apparently, her brothers started dating the same girl.”
Ryoma just smirks.
Tezuka has to bite his lip, when Ryoma starts to row and the boat goes around in circles. Ryoma notices him, looking out of the corner of his eye, and he laughs.
“I know you want to say it,” he says.
“You're not doing that right,” Tezuka says, but it's soft, a lilt, not an instruction. And Ryoma realises that he likes the feel of it. The softness. The familiarity.
“I'm doing it fine,” Ryoma returns. “You're the one doing it wrong.”
“I'm very good at rowing,” Tezuka says, affronted.
“You couldn't be captain of the rowing team. You couldn't be the prince of rowing. So shut up, and let me row.”
“You're scaring away the fish,” Tezuka says, but he's laughing.
“You are,” Ryoma says. “It's your laugh. It's unnatural. Not of this world.”
“I'm going to push you overboard,”
“Do it,” Ryoma says. “You wouldn't dare.”
Tezuka hauls Ryoma back into the boat. He's soaked to the skin and absolutely incredulous. Swear words Tezuka's never even heard are falling out of his mouth.
“You're a bastard,” he's saying, “The water tastes fucking horrible!”
“I think all the fish are gone,” Tezuka says, mournfully.
“Whose fault is that?!”
“Yours,” Tezuka says. “You're all mouthy.”
“Your girlfriend is the one who's mouthy,” Ryoma says, pulling his t-shirt down. It's clinging to him, and he feels a bit self-conscious. Luckily, it's not that cold. He'll dry quickly.
“She's not my girlfriend,” Tezuka says. “I don't have a girlfriend.”
“Do you like them mouthy?”
“What, girlfriends?”
“Anybody.”
“I like the lanky, sulking, petulant type,” Tezuka says. “Preferably wet, too. If they've got leaves in their hair, it's an added bonus.”
“I'll make sure to push Akiko into a lake, next time I see her.”
They don't fish, in the end. There's no fish to fish. They lie in the boat, heads together, legs dangling over the sides. It's a gorgeous day: not too warm, not too cold. Ryoma dries quickly. They don't say anything, just enjoy the peace and quiet. Ryoma eats most of the picnic, because he's got an appetite like a horse and Tezuka is too polite to stop him, so he'll take advantage if he can.
Tezuka is quiet and lazy, and Ryoma's not seen him like that before. He thinks that he likes it. They wouldn't have done something like this a few years ago, not alone and certainly not without discussing some team strategy, some new tennis serve. The latest match. Something to do with tennis. Ryoma feels that maybe, this is what it is to cut bait. When his father went to America, all he wanted to do was play tennis. That was his tunnel vision, his goal. Only he met Ryoma's mother, and he fell in love with her instead.
That's why Nanjiroh is so unfocused, so blurry. Ryoma would have understood him, on the day he went to America. They would have had the same unrelenting drive, the same selfish inconsideration of anything that didn't involve two rackets and a net. Only Nanjiroh is human: he has faults, he cares about other things, too, and Ryoma's tried so hard and so long to understand that, but always, ultimately, failed. Tezuka showed him the importance of tennis, gave him an angle from which to understand his father's competition. Later, Tezuka showed him the importance of everything else, gave him an angle from which to understand his father's laziness.
Ryoma doesn't want to be blurry. He wants to be focused and driven. But he always wants these moments: the peace and quiet. He wants friendship. He wants Tezuka in his life. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't want tennis to intrude. Suddenly, he understands why Tezuka chose not to go for the captaincy.
“You gave it up because of me,” Ryoma says, quietly. “I know it's a banned topic-”
“I gave it up because I wanted other things,” Tezuka says, just as quietly. “I didn't want to be your teacher anymore. I wanted to be your friend. I wanted to get to know you. I've spent so long being your teacher, putting a gap between us, in order to let you...evolve your game.”
“Will you regret it?”
“That depends,” Tezuka says, cheekily. “On how good a friend you are.”
“Oh, I'm supposed to prove my worth to you, right?” Ryoma says, poking him in the arm. “I owe you something, huh. I'm not changing. I'm not becoming some nice person. You want to be my friend, you can have me as your friend. I'm not changing. I'm going to annoy the living fuck out of you.”
“I look forward to it,” Tezuka says lazily, dangling his hand in the water.
“So, do we still get to play tennis?”
“Sure,” Tezuka says. “I'm still trying for the team. I just don't want to lead it.”
“Maybe I should apply for the captaincy,” Ryoma says. “Get back at you for all those times you pissed me off, three years ago.”
“You think you didn't piss me off?” Tezuka says, laughing with surprise. “You were a little brat. If you hadn't been so talented I'd have thrown you out the window.”
“I'm still a brat,” Ryoma says. “By the way.”
“Obviously,” Tezuka says. “I'm pedantic. I'm sure we'll make excellent friends.”
“We're talking about tennis,” Ryoma says. “Isn't that against the rules, Buchou?”
“I'll push you overboard again.”
“Stop me talking about tennis! I'm breaking a rule, Buchou! I'll have to run some laps! You'll have to punish me, I've let my guard down! I'm being care-”
Except, he isn't being careless. Tezuka's being careless. Because Tezuka is leaning over, and kissing him, in that annoyingly perfect, vaguely accidental way Tezuka has of doing everything. As if he's just decided to do it, and yet it's accidentally the greatest thing you've ever seen or done in your entire life. It isn't hard, or rough, or even all that decisive, but it's a side of Tezuka that Ryoma hasn't ever seen before. And, loathe as he is to admit it, he likes it.
It's not easy, in the end, to have a good kiss whilst lying down in a boat. Just as it's not easy to forge a friendship when there's all that history, all those years of having a solid dynamic. Just as it's not easy to fuse a bond between two people: a brat and a pedant. Nothing is all that easy. But in the end, if you try and you succeed at it, it's a sweet sensation. It's an exhilarating sensation. Ryoma kisses Tezuka back until his shoulders are hurting with the way the oars are digging into him, and then he draws back and opens his eyes.
The sunlight blares in, and Tezuka is looking at him, and his eyes are so soft and so open and so different, and it feels more right than anything. More right than smashing back a match-winning return, even.
Well. Maybe they're equal.
“So, we didn't fish,” Ryoma says.
“That's because you scared them all away,” Tezuka says. “Brat.”
“I was trying to use Fuji's metaphor,” Ryoma returns. “Pedant.”
“So in the end,” Fuji is saying, eying Oishi's notes. “Tezuka was a slutty host. He was supposed to be dating Akiko, not Echizen.”
“Well,” Oishi says. “I think he had some encouragement.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“And to be honest, that story isn't nearly as interesting as Kaidoh and Momo!”
“Even I didn't expect that,” Fuji says. “Who'd have thought that they'd enjoy homoerotic conflict so much?”
“I'm not sure their girls should have been allowed to team them up like that-”
“I think it's resourceful,” Fuji says. “Momo's girl liked rough and tumble, Kaidoh's liked homoerotic conflict. Girls are smart like that. They like to team up.”
“Not as smart as you,” Oishi says, smiling.
“Again-”
“You created this fundraiser to motivate Echizen into doing something about Tezuka.”
“Yes,” Fuji says, pleased. “I thought nobody would work it out.”
“And you knew that Tezuka wasn't going to take the captaincy?”
“I had a hunch.”
“The only thing I don't understand,” Oishi says. “Is how Akiko got Tezuka in the first place. She wasn't the highest bidder. Not by a long shot.”
“Ah,” Fuji says. “The other bidders...they dropped out of the running. Or so I heard.”
“But why Akiko? Didn't she have skeletons?”
“Hmn,” Fuji thinks. “She was like Tezuka. She had his drive, his need to succeed. She was Tezuka, without the tennis. She knew how to have fun. And she was like Echizen. She was mouthy, she stood up for herself. I thought she'd remind him of Echizen. And of himself.”
“I'm his best friend,” Oishi says, sighing. “And if I knew him half as well as that-”
“You're not obsessed, Oishi,” Fuji says, seriously. “I was obsessed. I made it my business to know him. I did the fundraiser to stop being obsessed. To cut bait. To stop fishing.”
“Did it work?”
“You tell me,” Fuji says. “Does it look like I've got a fishing rod in my pocket, or am I just happy to see you?”
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Does it look like I've got a fishing rod in my pocket, or am I just happy to see you?
That last sentence can be read in so many ways! Haha!
no subject
or maybe it's just you. ♥
no subject
“No, not on eBay,” Fuji says, a little woefully. “Why didn't I think of that.”
“He doesn’t like girls, Fuji.”
Fuji stares at him. “That’s just a rumour. I know, I made it up.”
To: Echizen Ryoma
From: Fuji Shuusuke
Subject: re: re: re: ...
There's a saying that goes, 'fish, or cut bait'. It means, either continue fishing or cut bait and go home. It's like 'put up or shut up'. Are you going to fish, or are you going to cut bait. That's the big question.
To: Fuji Shuusuke
From: Echizen Ryoma
Subject: re: re: re: re: ...
That is NO help. Are you suggesting we go fishing???
. . . It's like he's familiar enough that you can tell he's a relative of all the other fandom Fujis, but somehow he manages to distinguish himself. I really do appreciate how you managed to have him orchestrate the plot without turning into a plot device (I didn't know this could be done!)--even when you'd figure that matchmaking would rob him of all his autonomy as a character, I somehow still believed his motivations. And the way you ended with him was just right.
I hope I don't sound too weird talking about Fuji when this is a TezuRyo story. Actually, I wasn't able to agree with your characters for the whole story--there were occasionally lines of dialogue that threw me just because I think our mental pictures of Tezuka, etc. do differ somewhat--but there were still a bunch of moments and some images that I really liked. As far as character goes, I did really like your build-up to Ryoma's realization that
Ryoma doesn't want to be blurry. He wants to be focused and driven. But he always wants these moments: the peace and quiet. He wants friendship. He wants Tezuka in his life. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't want tennis to intrude.
. . . and I thought Tezuka's ultimate decision re: buchouness felt right too.
Anyway, this was a really neat find for a TeniPuri story I'd had no idea existed. Thank you! I have no idea whether you get old comment notifications or not but maybe someday you'll see this.
no subject
I enjoyed this.