PoT: Reach
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Tezuka/Ryoma, preslash?
Rating: PG
Continuity: manga, no spoilers
Notes: another for pillarchallenge's Height Difference challenge.
Reach
In first year, buchou is too tall. Ryoma has to stand three paces away to look up at Tezuka without cricking his neck. Two paces, if they've been playing. He wonders if it seems a smaller space to Tezuka, who could step across it easily with his long legs.
Sometimes, Ryoma thinks he might like to stand closer. His favourite distance, though, is seventy-eight feet, because over the net he doesn't need to look upwards at all.
In second year, Momo-senpai is captain. Ryoma doesn't realise that he's grown until Ryuuzaki-sensei comments on it, measuring him against the clubhouse doorpost. Her annoying granddaughter hangs back, blushing and stuttering.
Momo-senpai seems kind of relieved when Ryoma refuses to call him captain. Ryoma supposes it must be weird for him, too, but mostly he wonders whether he comes up to Tezuka-buchou's shoulder yet. Seigaku doesn't feel right without Tezuka standing at the edge of the courts, arms folded and watching.
With the third-years gone, it gets boring quickly. After the third time Ryoma beats him six to love, Momo-senpai snaps and yells at him to just go up to the high school already. Then Kaidoh-senpai yells at him for yelling. Ryoma watches them fight, wondering why he hadn't thought of that.
It turns out that he still has to crane his neck when he meets Tezuka at the net. Ryoma tries not to sulk.
In third year, Ryuuzaki-sensei gives him the option of six months at a tennis school in California. If he stays at Seigaku, he will be the captain. The thought is not appealing; Ryoma goes.
He hates every minute of it. The climate is too dry, and the food is all wrong, and the constant English grates on his ears. The opponents are all strong, and all stupidly tall. Ryoma scowls when they make jokes about his height or his age, and pays them back on the court. Eventually, they stop joking, and Ryoma gets bored again. It's not like Seigaku at all, and he doesn't really understand why.
The week before he returns to Japan, Fuji-senpai sends him an email with no text at all. The junior division of the Japan Open has just finished; Ryoma scrolls through picture after picture of Tezuka, caught in mid-serve, volley, smash. Fuji-senpai is good at this, he thinks. Ryoma has a bunch of back issues of Pro Tennis Monthly, and Tezuka never looks quite like himself in those pictures. He keeps them anyway.
Getting back to Japan is a relief. Momo-senpai drops by the house before Ryoma has even finished unpacking, and drags him out to Kawamura Sushi. Ryoma isn't really surprised to see half his other senpai there, but realising that he has grown tall enough to look Kikumaru-senpai in the eye is definitely a shock.
Tezuka-buchou is sitting at the counter, and Ryoma fights his way free of enthusiastic senpai to take the next chair. Seated, it seems like there are only a few inches between them. Mada mada, Ryoma thinks; maybe he'll grow some more. Tezuka doesn't say anything, but he smiles a little as Ryoma eyes the sushi, and pushes the platter over.
He is six inches shorter than Tezuka when he starts high school. It's not much, Ryoma thinks, it’s not eleven inches any more, but he still has to tip his head back to look at buchou. Two paces between them decreases by increments, until Ryoma realises that it looks a little too much like he's waiting to be kissed. He walks around for the next week with his cap pulled down low, staring at the ground and utterly certain that everyone is laughing at him.
Ryoma plays Fuji in the ranking matches. It's like walking a tightrope, picking his way carefully between Fuji-senpai's counters, but ultimately a foregone conclusion. Afterwards, Ryoma slings his racquet over his shoulder and wanders absently over to the next court to see what's going on. He halts mid-step when he realises that Tezuka is playing, but the uncomfortable sensation of Fuji-senpai's eyes on him makes him stiffen his shoulders. He's not some stupid girl, and he isn't going to run away.
Tezuka-buchou wins. No one is surprised, but there are murmurs of admiration from some of the club members. They start to drift away, anticipating the end of the session; Momo-senpai is trying to pester Kikumaru-senpai into paying for food. Ryoma lingers at the fence, the long clean lines of Tezuka's form still caught in his mind's eye. It's been too long since they've played.
Two days later, after the ranking has ended and the Regulars have been decided, Ryoma's class assistant sends him to fetch a book from the library. He's vaguely annoyed at getting saddled with chores until he slides open the door and sees Tezuka sitting behind a pile of textbooks at a table. Oh, Ryoma thinks, suddenly absurdly pleased.
He wanders over while the librarian is hunting down whatever book he's supposed to fetch. Ryoma never bothers to pay attention in English class.
"Buchou?" It's weird to be standing over Tezuka. Ryoma can see the top of his head and the untidy fall of his hair that isn't quite one way or the other. It makes his fingers itch, and he stuffs them hastily into his pockets.
"Echizen?" Tezuka-buchou looks up at him, sounding surprised. Whatever he's working on looks boring as hell, and Ryoma wonders how it can hold his attention. He fidgets, hearing the tap of the librarian's footsteps coming back.
"Will you play a match with me?" Ryoma blurts at last, ducking his head to stare at his feet. Everything is easier when they are on the courts.
"All right," Tezuka says at last, very quietly. "Next week - after the district preliminaries."
"Yes, buchou!" Ryoma grins in relief, then starts as the librarian calls his name impatiently. Tezuka-buchou turns back to his books, but Ryoma is certain he can feel eyes on him all the way to the door. When he looks back, there is a tiny smile hovering at the corner of Tezuka's mouth as he studies.
A week, Ryoma thinks as he wanders back to class. Seven days, and six inches; it's not much. He isn't some boring girl, and there will be no one to laugh anyway. He's not going to hover around, just waiting to be kissed, when he finally has buchou all to himself.
It isn't until the teacher gives him a strange look that Ryoma realises he's smiling.
Pairing: Tezuka/Ryoma, preslash?
Rating: PG
Continuity: manga, no spoilers
Notes: another for pillarchallenge's Height Difference challenge.
Reach
In first year, buchou is too tall. Ryoma has to stand three paces away to look up at Tezuka without cricking his neck. Two paces, if they've been playing. He wonders if it seems a smaller space to Tezuka, who could step across it easily with his long legs.
Sometimes, Ryoma thinks he might like to stand closer. His favourite distance, though, is seventy-eight feet, because over the net he doesn't need to look upwards at all.
In second year, Momo-senpai is captain. Ryoma doesn't realise that he's grown until Ryuuzaki-sensei comments on it, measuring him against the clubhouse doorpost. Her annoying granddaughter hangs back, blushing and stuttering.
Momo-senpai seems kind of relieved when Ryoma refuses to call him captain. Ryoma supposes it must be weird for him, too, but mostly he wonders whether he comes up to Tezuka-buchou's shoulder yet. Seigaku doesn't feel right without Tezuka standing at the edge of the courts, arms folded and watching.
With the third-years gone, it gets boring quickly. After the third time Ryoma beats him six to love, Momo-senpai snaps and yells at him to just go up to the high school already. Then Kaidoh-senpai yells at him for yelling. Ryoma watches them fight, wondering why he hadn't thought of that.
It turns out that he still has to crane his neck when he meets Tezuka at the net. Ryoma tries not to sulk.
In third year, Ryuuzaki-sensei gives him the option of six months at a tennis school in California. If he stays at Seigaku, he will be the captain. The thought is not appealing; Ryoma goes.
He hates every minute of it. The climate is too dry, and the food is all wrong, and the constant English grates on his ears. The opponents are all strong, and all stupidly tall. Ryoma scowls when they make jokes about his height or his age, and pays them back on the court. Eventually, they stop joking, and Ryoma gets bored again. It's not like Seigaku at all, and he doesn't really understand why.
The week before he returns to Japan, Fuji-senpai sends him an email with no text at all. The junior division of the Japan Open has just finished; Ryoma scrolls through picture after picture of Tezuka, caught in mid-serve, volley, smash. Fuji-senpai is good at this, he thinks. Ryoma has a bunch of back issues of Pro Tennis Monthly, and Tezuka never looks quite like himself in those pictures. He keeps them anyway.
Getting back to Japan is a relief. Momo-senpai drops by the house before Ryoma has even finished unpacking, and drags him out to Kawamura Sushi. Ryoma isn't really surprised to see half his other senpai there, but realising that he has grown tall enough to look Kikumaru-senpai in the eye is definitely a shock.
Tezuka-buchou is sitting at the counter, and Ryoma fights his way free of enthusiastic senpai to take the next chair. Seated, it seems like there are only a few inches between them. Mada mada, Ryoma thinks; maybe he'll grow some more. Tezuka doesn't say anything, but he smiles a little as Ryoma eyes the sushi, and pushes the platter over.
He is six inches shorter than Tezuka when he starts high school. It's not much, Ryoma thinks, it’s not eleven inches any more, but he still has to tip his head back to look at buchou. Two paces between them decreases by increments, until Ryoma realises that it looks a little too much like he's waiting to be kissed. He walks around for the next week with his cap pulled down low, staring at the ground and utterly certain that everyone is laughing at him.
Ryoma plays Fuji in the ranking matches. It's like walking a tightrope, picking his way carefully between Fuji-senpai's counters, but ultimately a foregone conclusion. Afterwards, Ryoma slings his racquet over his shoulder and wanders absently over to the next court to see what's going on. He halts mid-step when he realises that Tezuka is playing, but the uncomfortable sensation of Fuji-senpai's eyes on him makes him stiffen his shoulders. He's not some stupid girl, and he isn't going to run away.
Tezuka-buchou wins. No one is surprised, but there are murmurs of admiration from some of the club members. They start to drift away, anticipating the end of the session; Momo-senpai is trying to pester Kikumaru-senpai into paying for food. Ryoma lingers at the fence, the long clean lines of Tezuka's form still caught in his mind's eye. It's been too long since they've played.
Two days later, after the ranking has ended and the Regulars have been decided, Ryoma's class assistant sends him to fetch a book from the library. He's vaguely annoyed at getting saddled with chores until he slides open the door and sees Tezuka sitting behind a pile of textbooks at a table. Oh, Ryoma thinks, suddenly absurdly pleased.
He wanders over while the librarian is hunting down whatever book he's supposed to fetch. Ryoma never bothers to pay attention in English class.
"Buchou?" It's weird to be standing over Tezuka. Ryoma can see the top of his head and the untidy fall of his hair that isn't quite one way or the other. It makes his fingers itch, and he stuffs them hastily into his pockets.
"Echizen?" Tezuka-buchou looks up at him, sounding surprised. Whatever he's working on looks boring as hell, and Ryoma wonders how it can hold his attention. He fidgets, hearing the tap of the librarian's footsteps coming back.
"Will you play a match with me?" Ryoma blurts at last, ducking his head to stare at his feet. Everything is easier when they are on the courts.
"All right," Tezuka says at last, very quietly. "Next week - after the district preliminaries."
"Yes, buchou!" Ryoma grins in relief, then starts as the librarian calls his name impatiently. Tezuka-buchou turns back to his books, but Ryoma is certain he can feel eyes on him all the way to the door. When he looks back, there is a tiny smile hovering at the corner of Tezuka's mouth as he studies.
A week, Ryoma thinks as he wanders back to class. Seven days, and six inches; it's not much. He isn't some boring girl, and there will be no one to laugh anyway. He's not going to hover around, just waiting to be kissed, when he finally has buchou all to himself.
It isn't until the teacher gives him a strange look that Ryoma realises he's smiling.