Title: Home
Author: SVZ
Fandom: TeniPuri
Pairing: TezuRyo (eventually)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own TeniPuri.
Notes: Inspired by Subdividedwho gave me the go ahead for using her fic and idea. It's gen for now, but will be eventually TezuRyo. Spoiler for the end of the anime series!

Prologue: Limits

It is only then that Tezuka realizes Ryoma isn’t returning. Ryoma with his choked voice, teary eyes, and grateful smile. The finality in his “thank you’s” replays in his head when he sees Ryoma off at the airport, it mingles in his mind when he tries to complete his math homework and it turns into a full blast melody that keeps him up when he tries to sleep.

The rain pelts the roof harshly and if he opens his eyes, Tezuka is certain he would see trails of raindrops cascade down the windowpane. Mixed with the pitter patter of rain, Tezuka’s thoughts continually gravitates back to Ryoma and if he contemplates whether he should tell everyone else.

It’s only fair to tell the others, he tells himself. They have the right to know.Even so, he can already see Fuji’s unblinking blue stare, Momo and Eiji’s cries of disbelief, and Oishi’s slumped shoulders and he knows that tomorrow’s practice would be quiet and the atmosphere heavy.

He will tell Fuji first and then everyone else, Tezuka decides, resigning himself to the fact that he is unable to sleep. Instead, he watches the second hand intensely and every tick of the clock seems to echo throughout the room.

--

It shouldn’t surprise him that Fuji already knows, but it does anyway. It is actually Fuji who corners him the next day at school and takes him up to the roof during their lunch period.

It is Fuji who voices Tezuka’s fear.

“He’s been put under enormous pressure,” Fuji says, quietly, between bites of his bento. The tone of his voice is neutral and his expression is serious but a blank slate. Tezuka’s certain that Fuji’s about to play the devil’s advocate so he doesn’t mince words.

“It’s my own fault. I was the one who put him under too much pressure,” Tezuka corrects, feeling guilt pooling in his stomach like hot wax dripping. He stares at his lunch, unable to take a bite and wonders if he should hand it to Momo at practice later.

Fuji looks at him thoughtfully for what seems like several minutes before standing up and stretching his legs. “Perhaps,” he says, “But I don’t think it’s just that.”

Tezuka turns to ask him a question but it’s too late. Fuji disappears out the roof door just as the bell rings and Tezuka finds himself late for English.

--

With Nationals just around the corner, he didn’t notice he had been putting too much pressure on his left arm until Oishi mentions it after practice one day. Oishi hands him a sheaf of papers and hovers over him; looking worried but hesitant.

“Tezuka, are you all right?” Oishi finally blurts out, concerned. Whether if it is out of reflex or purely coincidental, Tezuka notices Oishi’s eyes dart to his left elbow and stays there.

“I’m fine,” Tezuka assures him, carefully putting the papers into a folder. He smiles at Oishi and is ready to bolt out the door. “Please tell everyone that will be an extra practice Saturday and under no circumstances are they allowed to practice Sunday before the tournament.”

When Oishi goes to lock up the club room, Tezuka makes his way to the hospital for a check up. Just in case.

--

They win the Nationals and Ryoma narrowly misses wining the U.S. Open. Tezuka doesn’t know why both events fail to shock him; perhaps it’s a combination of the knowledge that he knew that they could never lose and because Ryoma is the future of tennis who’s only showing giving everyone a glimpse of what he’s capable of.

Both articles appear on the front page of the Tokyo Times. Naturally, Ryoma’s article takes up nearly 2/3 of the page and goes more in depth about his background (Tezuka notes that the writer hadn’t realized Ryoma and Samurai Nanjiroh are related) and it even features a small but flattering photo of him.

Seigaku’s victory at the Nationals is mentioned briefly near the end, jolting Tezuka back to reality. He skims over their own article quickly but it’s short and vague and unmemorable. A part of him tells him to cut it out and keep it—he’ll probably want to remember it in years to come. After all—isn’t this what he’s working towards since first year? Didn’t he make a promise with Oishi? Isn’t this what all the sacrifices leading up to now had been for?

The scissors are in the drawer to his right but Tezuka makes no move to get it. He rereads Ryoma’s article over again—reading but not actually comprehending—and wonders if the journalist realized his mistake when he called Ryoma “the future of Japanese tennis”. He suspects that the Americans are claiming the same thing.

No, Tezuka thinks, Echizen is the future of tennis. Nothing more and nothing less.

--

Fuji slips him a note. Morning practice is over, and everyone is busy watching Kaidoh and Momo get into another one of their arguments to notice. The note is concise and unsigned, telling him to meet him up on the rooftop again during lunch.

Skip your next class if you can, it says, offering no explanation. Tezuka pockets the note, looks up at Fuji, and nods. When Taka goes to break Momo and Kaidoh up, Tezuka asks Oishi to takes notes for him during English.

--

“Should you tell them or should I?” Fuji’s fingers curl through the openings of the chain link fence. His gaze is fixed on a group of first years having lunch underneath a shady tree.

“I should tell them,” Tezuka says, his throat tight and his stomach queasy. “I’m their captain after all.”

Fuji looks at him in the eye. “Let me rephrase that,” he says, his gaze unwavering. “Do you want to?”

--

Tezuka ends up breaking the news to everyone after practice, two weeks later than when he initially planned to. Just as he expected, everyone is shocked, a few in denial, and a few first years (they must have been Ryoma’s classmates, Tezuka realizes) even looked close to tears.

Momo storms out off the court; cursing and fumbling for his cell phone that he isn’t suppose to have in his pocket to begin with.

Oishi starts to follow, but it is Kaidoh who stops him. “Don’t,” Kaidoh tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Oishi-senpai, I know your intentions are good, but it’s much better if you don’t. He’s going to try to call Ryoma and haul his ass back here.”

“I don’t suppose he thought of the time difference,” Fuji murmurs, moving closer to Tezuka.

Momo’s loud scream of aggravation follows; causing a flock of birds to flee from a nearby tree. “I don’t think he thought of the fact that Ryoma doesn’t own a cell phone,” is Tezuka’s terse reply.

--

“I shouldn’t have pushed him.” Tezuka confesses in the safety of his own room, neglecting his science homework completely. “He’s twelve. I shouldn’t have expected him to be able to handle—“

“You were twelve when Yamato-buchou asked you to be the pillar of Seigaku.” Fuji’s voice is infuriatingly serene. Unlike him, Fuji is productive. He mouths calculations and writes them down in his neat hand while trying to reason with Tezuka.

Upon closer inspection, Tezuka notices that Fuji has been doing all the problems wrong. It makes him feel slightly better, knowing that Fuji is also distracted because of Echizen. He reminds himself to mention it to Fuji later; they were simple mistakes that can be easily corrected.

Fuji speaks up again, “I don’t think that you drove him away, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Maybe you’re right and Echizen can’t handle being thought of the next pillar, but I don’t think it’s quite as simple as that.”

“What do you think?”

“I think,” Fuji replies, after a long pause, “Japanese tennis is what drove Echizen away.” Seeing Tezuka’s expression, he goes on to add, “He never lost in America. He hasn’t lost to anyone to his father and you. How long can he stay that way?”

“He lost an unofficial match with Sanada. Although he managed to win the--“ Tezuka starts, but Fuji cuts him off.

“Echizen has been able to rise up to the challenge each time, but it pushes his skills and his abilities. One of his talents is his ability to learn new moves and adapt, but sooner or later, defeat will be inevitable. I think he wanted to challenge you as to a way to figure out if he was truly good enough for the U.S. Open and if he had a reason to return.”

“He’s afraid of losing?” Tezuka finds it almost hard to believe.

“Partly. I'm sure he has other reasons. Echizen once said that tennis was easy because it’s simply running and hitting the ball.”

Tezuka smiles in spite of the comment. “Tennis is just a game to him.”

“Or it used to be,” Fuji replies, off-handedly. “I think he thought of it as a game as first, but not anymore and maybe it bothers him to realize how serious he takes tennis now. It’s rather like how I thought of tennis until I joined Seigaku's team.”

Tezuka realizes with a start. “You and Echizen are similar. You’ve never lost a match to anyone except…”

“To you,” Fuji finishes, smiling. “Or the times I’ve played doubles.” Fuji’s expression darkens and turns thoughtful. “Come to think of it, Echizen and I never did finish our match.”

“I wonder if you will.”

“Maybe Momo will end up dragging Echizen back.”

Tezuka pauses, considering. “Maybe,” he agrees, trying hard not to gets his hopes up. He wonders if anyone got a hold of Ryoma’s phone number or address and resolves to ask Inui (if anyone were to know it, it would be him) first thing tomorrow.

--TBC—

Comments and constructive criticism welcomed.