Fic Dumping Ground: 2016

[yrindor]

This post is a storage spot for all of the fic/ficlets that I want to be able to link to but don't want to post to AO3 for whatever reason. Fandom/pairings/rating/warnings will be marked in the subject of the individual comments.

Comments

Prince of Tennis, Sanada & Tezuka, G

[yrindor]

Inui notices. It's just data, so perhaps it would be more surprising if he didn't. He knows what sensitive data is too though, and he knows this qualifies. He notices the way Tezuka discretely edges away from Kaidou as Kaidou practices his serve, just as he notices the way Tezuka flinches when Takahashi picks up a racket nearby. He notices, but it's data he doesn't add to his notebook. It's data he'll never add to his notebook. There's some data that's best left unrecorded. There's some data he wishes he didn't know.

Oishi notices too. He knows it's an unspoken part of the reason Tezuka plays singles whenever he can. He notices, and he wants to say something, but he can't. He hopes Tezuka will bring it up someday, even as he knows Tezuka won't. Tezuka is Seigaku's pillar, there's only so much he can do from his spot at its base.

Kaidou notices as well. He's used to people being intimidated by him, but he wouldn't have expected it from Tezuka. It goes against everything else he thinks he knows about his captain. He wants to bring it up to Inui, but Inui doesn't seem to have noticed, or at least he hasn't made any notes about it yet, and Kaidou's gut tells him this is the sort of thing best kept quiet. So he bites his tongue, pays more attention to where he's practicing, and waits for someone else to mention it first.

Momo doesn't notice, at least not initially. It's not until he starts watching his teammate's techniques and trying to deconstruct them for himself that he notices the anomalies in Tezuka's actions. He's still too new at this to trust his judgment though, so he does the only thing he can: he focuses on helping Ryoma and works hard himself, and he hopes that gives his senpai enough space that they can focus on the problem their captain may or may not be having.

Seigaku notices, but it's not Seigaku that finally steps in. That task falls to Sanada the day he and Tezuka cross paths at the practice courts. He notices the way Tezuka flinches, and he puts the pieces together immediately. He doesn't have to say anything; one look is all it takes to let Tezuka know that he's noticed, and that he's not going to let the issue drop.

The next time he serves, he picks a spot on the opposite corner of the court, just far enough away that Tezuka can't reach it, but close enough that he could have if he hadn't flinched. He sees the anger that flashes across Tezuka's face for a split-second as he realizes what Sanada has done.

"Again," Sanada says. "Again" is the only warning he gives before he sends another ball over the net. A different spot this time, but the same distance--the exact distance Tezuka could reach if only he could move a split second sooner.

Again and again he sends balls across the court, watching for the brief moment when Tezuka's emotions betray themselves before they're locked away again. First comes the anger towards him, obvious, and entirely expected. When that starts to give way to frustration, the wind across the court picks up, and he sees the beginnings of the Tezuka Phantom taking shape.

He stops. Waits.

The anger comes back as Tezuka lets the Tezuka Zone fade and takes up his stance once more. It doesn't last long before it's replaced by frustration again, and as Sanada continues sending serve after serve to the same spots, even that starts to fade and be replaced by helplessness, and hopelessness.

It's not long until Tezuka stumbles scrambling for the ball, falls to his knees, and doesn't rise.

"Stand," Sanada orders. "Fight."

For a second, he sees the anger break through the despair again. It fades quickly, but it's soon replaced by another, one that's turned inward as all of Tezuka's anger at his own weaknesses and fears comes to the surface.

It's what Sanada's been waiting for, carefully placing countless shots until the whole range of Tezuka's emotions have been brought out and laid bare before them on the court. He picks up the intensity now, hitting harder and faster as he drills into the weakness Tezuka has tried so hard to hide. He doesn't stop until Tezuka suddenly turns his back, his shoulders nearly shaking with exhaustion and rage.

"One more ball," he says as he turns around as well. His voice is as flat and emotionless as his face. It's an act, but one he maintains carefully lest he muddy the emotions already in play.

He occupies himself with handling drills while he waits, keeping an eye out for anyone approaching the court so that he can send them away before they get too close. He loses track of how long he waits before he hears his name called behind him.

"Come," Tezuka orders as they face to each other once more. Tezuka's eyes are red, but the fight is back in them.

Sanada serves, driving the ball across the net as hard as he can. This time, there's no hesitation; the ball come back too quickly for him to react. He looks up as he feels it fly past his cheek. Tezuka meets his gaze, his eyes flashing defiantly.

Sanada nods in approval. Then he turns and leaves without another word. The next time he sees Tezuka will be across the net at Nationals.