Fic: Fine
Title: Fine
Author: lizstarsky
Rating: PG-13 (worksafe)
Pairings: None really. Slight Golden Pair, slight RyogaxRyoma.
Warnings: Spoilers for the PoT movie, "Futari no Samurai." Angst.
Notes: Movieverse. A possible explanation for the cracked out events of said movie.
Summary: Ryoma is fine.
Cross-posted to _tenipuri and my journal.
Fine
*****
Yes, he tells them for the hundredth time, he's fine. Why wouldn't he be? He's just played the best match of his life, beat the bad guys and sailed away with a precious sign of his brother's respect clutched in his palm. He's great, fantastic, so can they please leave him alone for five minutes so he can take a nap? Playing a hard game like that really takes it out of a guy, and they of all people should know that.
They shut up after that, finally, but he's decided to ignore them either way. Curling up in the corner, he tips his hat down over his eyes and leans back against the cool metal of the wall, letting the gentle rocking of the ship lull him into sleep. As he drifts off, he wishes he had the orange Ryoga gave him to hold onto, but he thinks he must've lost it in the ocean, maybe when Kikumaru-senpai and Momo-senpai hauled him into the lifeboat. He'll yell at them for it later, he thinks; for now he's too tired.
His dreams are strange, wrong--twisted versions of the last few days. Versions where he's afraid, crouching behind a bulkhead with Fuji-senpai while heavy footsteps echo behind them and drown out the rasp of their breathing. In the dreams, there is no tennis when things get bad, just scared little boys running from men with guns. The men are different too, hard-faced and unflinching, with cold eyes and hands that don't even tremble as they level the dark hole of a gun barrel on frightened children's faces.
In the dreams, Oishi-senpai cries silently as he holds Eiji-senpai close, both of them curled up on the floor while Oishi dabs at Eiji's forehead with his shirt sleeve, wiping away blood from where the bullet grazed skin.
In the dreams, it's no game--people are really trying to kill them and the boat is really sinking under their feet. There is no final, daring match where he and Ryoga duel underwater like manga heroes--the sea still crashes over them in a cold black wave, but this time he's afraid, terrified, frozen with fear because his lungs are burning and it's so cold and he can't feel Ryoga's arms around him anymore, just the spatters of debris against his cheeks and the hard edge of the board Ryoga told him to hold onto.
The impact of the water knocked off his hat, and he almost lets go of the board to feel around for it. But in the end some fragment of self-preservation kicks in and he keeps holding on, keeps kicking his legs towards the surface, keeps holding his breath even though some half-hysterical part of him is sure that it'd be okay to breathe, that like in his dreams the water will nourish his lungs instead of filling them, and then maybe his chest won't hurt so much and he can take his time getting to the surface, or maybe just float here and rest for awhile because he's so very tired...
He's stopped kicking, but the buoyancy of the board lifts him anyway, and suddenly his head bursts above the level of the water. He gasps in a breath instinctively, coughing when a spray of salt water gets sucked in with the air, but the motion jars his fingers loose from the board. He doesn't sink, though--a hand catches the front of his shirt and holds him in place, stopping him from sinking back down into the water.
But he wants to sink. He's so exhausted... He wants to drift back down into the only place that's warm and quiet and close his eyes for a minute, just for a minute...
"Chibisuke! RYOMA!" The hoarse, urgent voice snaps him back to himself and he opens his eyes, gagging as cold salty water fills his open mouth and stings the inside of his nose.
Ryoga is floating beside him, clinging to the edge of the board with one hand while the other clutches the soaked, stiff collar of Ryoma's shirt. He looks afraid, Ryoma thinks vaguely, and more like just another scared kid than the blurry myth he remembers from his childhood.
"Keep your eyes open!" Ryoga yells over the roar of the wind. "And for Chrissakes, chibisuke, don't let go!"
He manages a nod, his teeth chattering violently, but his hands are numb and he's so tired, and soon he feels himself slipping again.
"Ryoma!"
This time he goes under, sinking down into a murky sea that is almost warm compared to the chill air above. He feels his body relaxing in that warmth, melting into the waves that rock him gently, and it feels so good and right that he draws in a small breath, and just like in his dreams it trickles into his lungs like warm honey, sweet and heavy--
But then something is dragging him up and out again, and suddenly there is sound and light and pain--god, he can't breathe, he can't breathe and it hurts to try, his chest is seizing up in a weak attempt at a cough but it's like claws scraping the inside of his throat, stinging, burning...
Warm, insistent lips press against his mouth and he tastes salt and the faint tang of oranges; air floods his lungs and suddenly he's coughing, choking, and it still hurts so much but this time the coughing is easier; he's getting in some air along with the water. He turns weakly onto his side, feeling the board he's lying on tip and rock with the motion, but strong hands are there to steady it--strong hands are on his shoulders, holding him in place, holding onto him while he coughs and gasps and sobs.
Finally he's breathing again, and he opens his eyes to see Ryoga staring at him, his face so streaked with ocean water that he can't tell if he's crying or not.
"All right?" Ryoga asks him, still yelling because the ocean is so loud around them.
Ryoma manages a nod, his throat too raw to speak, and reaches up to wrap shaking arms around his brother's neck. Ryoga is still in the water, clinging to the edge of the board and shivering, and Ryoma feels every tremor that goes through his brother's body as the seconds pass, as minutes and hours pass and no one finds them, as they float there with arms wrapped tight around each other for warmth, for comfort--as Ryoga's fingers slip another inch towards the edge of the board, and he wonders if anyone is ever going to find them.
He falls asleep at some point. He doesn't mean to, and he's shaking so badly with cold and adrenaline that he doesn't know how sleep is possible, but it's like his body just shuts down. One minute he's lying there on his side, feeling the trembling warmth of Ryoga's skin under his arms--and the next it's unmistakably later, and he can hear the buzz of approaching engines and distant, shouting voices...and he's alone.
He sits up so quickly that the board tips over, dumping him into the sea. He hits the water knowing that no one will grab him to pull him back up, and somehow manages to kick his legs and keep himself afloat long enough to grab the edge of the board.
He calls his brother's name, screams it, all the while scanning the choppy black waters for a hint of movement or a familiar head of dark hair. But there's nothing, and by the time Eiji-senpai and Momo-senpai get their hands under his armpits and haul him up into the lifeboat, he's screamed himself completely hoarse and can only shake his head to their questions, his entire body shaking with the force of silent sobs as his eyes stay fixed stubbornly on the ocean.
He tries to jump out of the boat when it starts to move, but Fuji-senpai grabs him before he can, and for someone so small Fuji is infuriatingly strong. By the time he manages to struggle free of that iron grip, the others are there too, and he knows he can't fight them all so he just sinks down to his knees and curls up there on the floor, too tired to keep crying and only just noticing that there's a torn piece of Ryoga's shirt still trapped in his palm. He holds onto it so tightly that his fingers turn white, and when they get onto the bigger boat that will take them to shore, he doesn't let go of it even when the ship's doctor tries to pry his fingers open.
They dress him in warm clothes and wrap him in blankets, and Momo-senpai sits with him as he lies there shivering, staring at the ceiling and feeling the flush of fever creeping over him.
It's there that he remembers things correctly--there that the grainy nightmare images fade and are replaced with the truth, which is tennis games and silly cartoon villains and Ryoga grinning at him as he rides off on a jet ski. By the time his fever has dropped and he's feeling human again, he's relaxed completely into the way things really happened, and tiny details like the patch of black cloth in his palm or the bandage on Eiji-senpai's forehead are easily overlooked, easily explained by just a nightmare.
Just a nightmare...
He's in it again, isn't he? He's dreaming again, remembering wrong.
The realization gives him the power to break free, and he snaps awake to find himself still sitting curled in the corner of the ship infirmary, hat pulled low over his eyes. The voices of the others are muffled, telling him they've all gone to eat dinner in the adjoining cabin, so he has a few moments to collect himself unobserved. With a shaky sigh, he slides his hat--no, not his hat, he lost his hat, it's an extra one he had tucked in a bag someone rescued from the boat--back up into place on his head.
He sits there for a long time, listening to the murmur of voices and the clatter of silverware, and tries to still the pounding of his heart.
It was just a dream, he tells himself. Just a stupid dream. And if he can still feel Ryoga's shaking shoulders under his arms, it's just because this was one of those really vivid dreams, the kind that are the scariest because they feel like they really did happen, even though you know that they didn't.
Finally, his breathing slows, his heart stops hammering against his ribs, and he feels himself calming down. After awhile, he gets to his feet and looks around again for the orange, because half of him is hoping that someone picked it up but just forgot to tell him. He can't find it, though, and so instead he lays down on one of the infirmary beds and folds his arms behind his head to stare at the ceiling.
He wonders what Ryoga is doing, if he knows somehow that he lost the orange, but dismisses the thought after awhile as being stupid and childish. He notices at some point that his right hand is still tightened in a fist, clinging to something so tightly that his fingers are shaking, but he doesn't bother to loosen it to find out what.
After awhile he goes out to join the others at dinner, and wonders why they're treating him like he might shatter into a thousand glassy fragments if they say the wrong thing.
And it's strange, but no matter what he eats or drinks, somehow it all tastes like oranges.
*****
japanese glossary:
senpai - upperclassman
chibisuke - Ryoga's nickname for Ryoma. Not sure of the exact translation.
Author: lizstarsky
Rating: PG-13 (worksafe)
Pairings: None really. Slight Golden Pair, slight RyogaxRyoma.
Warnings: Spoilers for the PoT movie, "Futari no Samurai." Angst.
Notes: Movieverse. A possible explanation for the cracked out events of said movie.
Summary: Ryoma is fine.
Cross-posted to _tenipuri and my journal.
Fine
*****
Yes, he tells them for the hundredth time, he's fine. Why wouldn't he be? He's just played the best match of his life, beat the bad guys and sailed away with a precious sign of his brother's respect clutched in his palm. He's great, fantastic, so can they please leave him alone for five minutes so he can take a nap? Playing a hard game like that really takes it out of a guy, and they of all people should know that.
They shut up after that, finally, but he's decided to ignore them either way. Curling up in the corner, he tips his hat down over his eyes and leans back against the cool metal of the wall, letting the gentle rocking of the ship lull him into sleep. As he drifts off, he wishes he had the orange Ryoga gave him to hold onto, but he thinks he must've lost it in the ocean, maybe when Kikumaru-senpai and Momo-senpai hauled him into the lifeboat. He'll yell at them for it later, he thinks; for now he's too tired.
His dreams are strange, wrong--twisted versions of the last few days. Versions where he's afraid, crouching behind a bulkhead with Fuji-senpai while heavy footsteps echo behind them and drown out the rasp of their breathing. In the dreams, there is no tennis when things get bad, just scared little boys running from men with guns. The men are different too, hard-faced and unflinching, with cold eyes and hands that don't even tremble as they level the dark hole of a gun barrel on frightened children's faces.
In the dreams, Oishi-senpai cries silently as he holds Eiji-senpai close, both of them curled up on the floor while Oishi dabs at Eiji's forehead with his shirt sleeve, wiping away blood from where the bullet grazed skin.
In the dreams, it's no game--people are really trying to kill them and the boat is really sinking under their feet. There is no final, daring match where he and Ryoga duel underwater like manga heroes--the sea still crashes over them in a cold black wave, but this time he's afraid, terrified, frozen with fear because his lungs are burning and it's so cold and he can't feel Ryoga's arms around him anymore, just the spatters of debris against his cheeks and the hard edge of the board Ryoga told him to hold onto.
The impact of the water knocked off his hat, and he almost lets go of the board to feel around for it. But in the end some fragment of self-preservation kicks in and he keeps holding on, keeps kicking his legs towards the surface, keeps holding his breath even though some half-hysterical part of him is sure that it'd be okay to breathe, that like in his dreams the water will nourish his lungs instead of filling them, and then maybe his chest won't hurt so much and he can take his time getting to the surface, or maybe just float here and rest for awhile because he's so very tired...
He's stopped kicking, but the buoyancy of the board lifts him anyway, and suddenly his head bursts above the level of the water. He gasps in a breath instinctively, coughing when a spray of salt water gets sucked in with the air, but the motion jars his fingers loose from the board. He doesn't sink, though--a hand catches the front of his shirt and holds him in place, stopping him from sinking back down into the water.
But he wants to sink. He's so exhausted... He wants to drift back down into the only place that's warm and quiet and close his eyes for a minute, just for a minute...
"Chibisuke! RYOMA!" The hoarse, urgent voice snaps him back to himself and he opens his eyes, gagging as cold salty water fills his open mouth and stings the inside of his nose.
Ryoga is floating beside him, clinging to the edge of the board with one hand while the other clutches the soaked, stiff collar of Ryoma's shirt. He looks afraid, Ryoma thinks vaguely, and more like just another scared kid than the blurry myth he remembers from his childhood.
"Keep your eyes open!" Ryoga yells over the roar of the wind. "And for Chrissakes, chibisuke, don't let go!"
He manages a nod, his teeth chattering violently, but his hands are numb and he's so tired, and soon he feels himself slipping again.
"Ryoma!"
This time he goes under, sinking down into a murky sea that is almost warm compared to the chill air above. He feels his body relaxing in that warmth, melting into the waves that rock him gently, and it feels so good and right that he draws in a small breath, and just like in his dreams it trickles into his lungs like warm honey, sweet and heavy--
But then something is dragging him up and out again, and suddenly there is sound and light and pain--god, he can't breathe, he can't breathe and it hurts to try, his chest is seizing up in a weak attempt at a cough but it's like claws scraping the inside of his throat, stinging, burning...
Warm, insistent lips press against his mouth and he tastes salt and the faint tang of oranges; air floods his lungs and suddenly he's coughing, choking, and it still hurts so much but this time the coughing is easier; he's getting in some air along with the water. He turns weakly onto his side, feeling the board he's lying on tip and rock with the motion, but strong hands are there to steady it--strong hands are on his shoulders, holding him in place, holding onto him while he coughs and gasps and sobs.
Finally he's breathing again, and he opens his eyes to see Ryoga staring at him, his face so streaked with ocean water that he can't tell if he's crying or not.
"All right?" Ryoga asks him, still yelling because the ocean is so loud around them.
Ryoma manages a nod, his throat too raw to speak, and reaches up to wrap shaking arms around his brother's neck. Ryoga is still in the water, clinging to the edge of the board and shivering, and Ryoma feels every tremor that goes through his brother's body as the seconds pass, as minutes and hours pass and no one finds them, as they float there with arms wrapped tight around each other for warmth, for comfort--as Ryoga's fingers slip another inch towards the edge of the board, and he wonders if anyone is ever going to find them.
He falls asleep at some point. He doesn't mean to, and he's shaking so badly with cold and adrenaline that he doesn't know how sleep is possible, but it's like his body just shuts down. One minute he's lying there on his side, feeling the trembling warmth of Ryoga's skin under his arms--and the next it's unmistakably later, and he can hear the buzz of approaching engines and distant, shouting voices...and he's alone.
He sits up so quickly that the board tips over, dumping him into the sea. He hits the water knowing that no one will grab him to pull him back up, and somehow manages to kick his legs and keep himself afloat long enough to grab the edge of the board.
He calls his brother's name, screams it, all the while scanning the choppy black waters for a hint of movement or a familiar head of dark hair. But there's nothing, and by the time Eiji-senpai and Momo-senpai get their hands under his armpits and haul him up into the lifeboat, he's screamed himself completely hoarse and can only shake his head to their questions, his entire body shaking with the force of silent sobs as his eyes stay fixed stubbornly on the ocean.
He tries to jump out of the boat when it starts to move, but Fuji-senpai grabs him before he can, and for someone so small Fuji is infuriatingly strong. By the time he manages to struggle free of that iron grip, the others are there too, and he knows he can't fight them all so he just sinks down to his knees and curls up there on the floor, too tired to keep crying and only just noticing that there's a torn piece of Ryoga's shirt still trapped in his palm. He holds onto it so tightly that his fingers turn white, and when they get onto the bigger boat that will take them to shore, he doesn't let go of it even when the ship's doctor tries to pry his fingers open.
They dress him in warm clothes and wrap him in blankets, and Momo-senpai sits with him as he lies there shivering, staring at the ceiling and feeling the flush of fever creeping over him.
It's there that he remembers things correctly--there that the grainy nightmare images fade and are replaced with the truth, which is tennis games and silly cartoon villains and Ryoga grinning at him as he rides off on a jet ski. By the time his fever has dropped and he's feeling human again, he's relaxed completely into the way things really happened, and tiny details like the patch of black cloth in his palm or the bandage on Eiji-senpai's forehead are easily overlooked, easily explained by just a nightmare.
Just a nightmare...
He's in it again, isn't he? He's dreaming again, remembering wrong.
The realization gives him the power to break free, and he snaps awake to find himself still sitting curled in the corner of the ship infirmary, hat pulled low over his eyes. The voices of the others are muffled, telling him they've all gone to eat dinner in the adjoining cabin, so he has a few moments to collect himself unobserved. With a shaky sigh, he slides his hat--no, not his hat, he lost his hat, it's an extra one he had tucked in a bag someone rescued from the boat--back up into place on his head.
He sits there for a long time, listening to the murmur of voices and the clatter of silverware, and tries to still the pounding of his heart.
It was just a dream, he tells himself. Just a stupid dream. And if he can still feel Ryoga's shaking shoulders under his arms, it's just because this was one of those really vivid dreams, the kind that are the scariest because they feel like they really did happen, even though you know that they didn't.
Finally, his breathing slows, his heart stops hammering against his ribs, and he feels himself calming down. After awhile, he gets to his feet and looks around again for the orange, because half of him is hoping that someone picked it up but just forgot to tell him. He can't find it, though, and so instead he lays down on one of the infirmary beds and folds his arms behind his head to stare at the ceiling.
He wonders what Ryoga is doing, if he knows somehow that he lost the orange, but dismisses the thought after awhile as being stupid and childish. He notices at some point that his right hand is still tightened in a fist, clinging to something so tightly that his fingers are shaking, but he doesn't bother to loosen it to find out what.
After awhile he goes out to join the others at dinner, and wonders why they're treating him like he might shatter into a thousand glassy fragments if they say the wrong thing.
And it's strange, but no matter what he eats or drinks, somehow it all tastes like oranges.
*****
japanese glossary:
senpai - upperclassman
chibisuke - Ryoga's nickname for Ryoma. Not sure of the exact translation.