Devils' Own

Echizen Ryoma x Fuji Syuusuke x Yukimura Seichii


Chapter 1 Distraction

Ryoma cut the engine of his electric blue STI and soaked in the cool air for a few seconds more. "Another hot day," he mumbles. He pulls the white cap lower on his head and grabs his bag off the passenger seat.

As soon as he opened the door he melted and sweat plastered his light clothing to him. The August heat rolled through him and left him crankier than menopausal woman... or Kevin when he lost a game. That thought cheered him up enough for a small chuckle. The chuckle died on his lips however when he looked up and saw someone he never thought he'd see again.

Yukimura Seiichi, the Rikkaidai Demi-God of his childhood Seigaku days, stood about fifteen yards in front of him; between him and the entrance of the Armstrong Arena, anyway. Just seeing the deceptively gentle man pulled Ryoma fourteen years into the past. His skin shivered in the hot sun as excitement rushed over him. His heart started racing and his palms itched with the need to grip his racket. Even after so long, just the sight of him sent adrenaline coursing through his veins with the need to face off with the Demi-God again.

But before he could do that, however, he had to finish what he came here to do. The final match of the US Open was not going to wait for him. So he shut his car door and locked it over his shoulders. He tossed the key in his hand rhythmically as he headed straight through the crowd of young Japanese boys surrounding the invigorating man.

Yukimura watched Echizen Ryoma saunter towards him. He hadn't counted on the effect the younger man would have on him even after so many years. But the cocky flash of his golden eyes and that arrogant smirk boiled his blood hotter than any summer sun. The effect they had on his body was tremendous and he was grateful he was a disciplined man. The sudden urge to wrap his hand around that samurai ponytail and kiss that smirk off Ryoma's face was making his knees tremble slightly. He held the clip board lower on his body.

"Echizen," he said when Ryoma was near enough.

Ryoma paused, glanced down at the clip board's position, and smirked. "Yukimura," he said simply, though his tone suggested that he was highly amused by Yukimura's current state of being. He glanced at the boys and added, "you were busy it seems with more than just tennis back then."

Yukimura's nostrils flared and his lavender eyes darkened into a stormy violet. "Echizen, these are my students. We're here to watch pro tennis players like you in action. A treat for winning the zenkoku taikai."

Ryoma looked them all up and down. "Rikkaidai, ne?" He stared Yukimura in the eyes and licked his lips. When those violet eyes sharpened on the tip of his tongue, he tilted his head up an inch more and raised an eyebrow. "Mada mada...," he whispered. His lips curled into another smirk and he continued towards the entrance. "You're all still mada mada," he repeated louder.

Yukimura's eye twitched in annoyance. "Please try to keep us entertained to day, Echizen. Maybe one of my tensai can learn something from you."

Ryoma turned his head to the side when he reached the door and glanced back at them. "Che, just for you then, I'll keep my power weights on today."

"The brat never changes."

"Neither do you, nor my body's reaction to you," Ryoma whispered as he closed the door behind him. He leaned against the closed door and soaked in the refreshingly cool air inside the dim hall.

Kevin yelled at him from farther in. "Ryoma! Hurry up!"

"Che, I'll be there," he responded. He shut his eyes tight and let the cold of the metal seep into him. He drew in deep even breaths until his body calmed down and he could walk again comfortably. "Damn Yukimura, for showing up today of all days."

The rest of the day from that point on blended into one big fuzzy realm. His past and this match blurred to the point where he couldn't even focus on who he was playing. All he could remember was this man's face had something to do with a "Pong" bar. His face would register for all of a few seconds before it was once again taken over by Yukimura's. The thrill of playing against Yukimura rushed through his body again and within an instant the third door of Muga no Kyouchi opened up and swallowed him. With Ten'i Muhou no Kiwami riding his body, there was no ball he could not return and before the memory of his game fourteen years ago finished rolling in his mind, his opponent was defeated. That day was the day the papers named him: The Merciless Samurai. The most anticipated game of the US Open was over before the spectators knew what happened.

But one man knew, as he sat there panting from the same memory, Yukimura's heart was pounding in his chest and the ice normally within his veins became fire. In that moment he knew, if there was one thing he needed in his life, it was Echizen Ryoma.