Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of tennis.
Thanks for all the reviews. I really appreciate them : )
Special thanks to Sweet Obsidian Rain for beta-ing this story.
'Everyone deserved to be selfish, even a king.'
Momoshiro's POV
"Stupid rain," I cursed as I swapped droplets of rain off my coat. "Don't you think so, Echizen?"
My question was met with silence.
"Echizen?"
I turned towards the boy; he was fidgeting nervously, hands clamped before him, thumbs piling over the other in a way that I now called "Echizen Nervous Action".
"Momo-senpai," his voice was so soft that if it wasn't for the movement of his mouth, I would not have realized that he had talked, "do you hate Keigo?"
I blinked, his question catching me off guard.
Hate Atobe?
True, I hardly see eye to eye with that person and his domination tactics irked me to no end, but to say that I hate him, that is kind of pushing it. It was more like…
"I dislike him." His shoulders slumped at my reply, a sigh left his lips.
"Why?"
"Well," I cocked my head to the side; my fingers were drumming against my jaw, "for starters, he did try to keep you away from us."
I will never forgive him for that, ever.
"And," I continued, "he does have an inflated ego with his ore-sama speech here and ore-sama speech there."
"Lastly," I looked at him straight in the eye, trying to convey all my dislike for the man, "he tried to take you away from Tezuka-buchou."
"Take… me… away from… Tezuka-buchou?" he stumbled, confusion written all over his face, "But that is impossible, I do not like buchou that way at all."
"You've got to be kidding me!" I exclaimed, hands waving in the air to emphasize my point, "You two were practically glued to the hip for about a year. How could you say you don't love him?"
"But I…" he started nervously.
"Even if you did lose your memories, the feelings have to be there," I interrupted, narrowing my eyes at the boy before me who was close to breaking down in tears, "Isn't that why you returned? To try to remember your time here with Tezuka-buchou?"
"No, I…"
"Besides," I continued, "if you do remember the past, you would forget everything you had with Atobe, everything would return back to normal."
Tezuka-buchou would be with you. He would be happy again.
Echizen stood there, face drained of all colour, and eyes levelled opened. His mouth was wide open, gapping like a fish without water.
"Forget… Keigo?" he stuttered, taking a few steps back.
I regarded his expression with confusion, perplexed by his reaction, "Yes, isn't this what you wanted all along? This is why you returned here for, right?"
Fear clouded those misty golden eyes.
"Echizen?" His reaction was starting to scare me. Moving a few steps forward, I tried to approach him. My hands clamped over his trembling form before he yanked it away and bolted off.
"Oi Echizen!" I called at his shrinking form, "where are you going!?"
Vibrations from my back pocket stopped my attempts to follow him. Pulling the wretched device out, the person sure chose a bad time to call, I yelled into the receiver, "What!?"
I reached up and rubbed my temple in small circles. I could feel a migraine coming.
"Momoshiro."
That voice. That serious, no nonsense tone that made muscles tense in trepidation…
It could only belong to one person.
I gulped, feeling my death pending near. I couldn't believe I just yelled at him.
"Tezuka-buchou."
"Where are you now?"
I released the breath that I held minutes before, truly relieved that he did not order me to run laps.
"Err…" Glancing around, I tried to find anything that I could describe to Tezuka-buchou. "I am now somewhere near McDonalds."
"Ok, I am coming to find you two now."
"But Echizen is not with me."
"What?" Tezuka buchou's voice rose by a notch, "Where is he?"
"He ran off a while ago." I limited my words. Tezuka-buchou did entrust Echizen to me, I don't think he would appreciate knowing about the talk we just had, even if it was for his sake.
"Never mind, I'll find him. Thanks, Momoshiro."
With that, he hung up, the dial tone replacing his voice.
What was that for?
Ryoma's POV
I ran. My feet were pounding hard against the pavement; my pulse was slamming in my ears. I ran, and ran, and ran— all the way down the street.
"If you do remember the past, you would forget everything you had with Atobe."
Is this true?
That dejected face he wore, those grey eyes silently pleading that I do not ask any further…
It finally made sense why Keigo always acted so strange whenever I asked about my past.
Is that what Keigo thought? That I would forget him? That I wanted to forget him?
How could I have been so clueless to his feelings?
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
I fervently wiped away the tears that were starting to burn my eyes.
No.
I did not want to forget Keigo.
It was never my intention.
I had everything. A closely knitted family, a wonderful home, friends, Keigo.
I should've been happy, but I was not.
There was always something missing; it felt like an empty void that refused to be filled. It was only until recently when the dreams, or should I say memories, surfaced did I know what that missing piece of the puzzle was.
It was my past.
I wanted to know about my past.
Then would everything be perfect.
It was that simple.
I never once thought that doing so would make me forget Keigo.
The tears did not stop flowing as I turned around a corner.
If remembering will make me forget about Keigo,
Then I don't want to remember anymore.
Atobe's POV
After calming a near to hysterics Fuji, I quietly, close to tip-toeing, made my leave. Fuji's house, as I came to observe was near the road.
How convenient. Won't take long for my limo to arrive.
"I would watch over him forever."
My fingers froze in mid action from dialling the familiar number. Casting a look at the grey skies above, the rain clouds parted, allowing traces of light to bask on my face, showering me with warmth I so desperately craved.
Though I said so, I really hope that such a day will not come.
I might not be able to hold onto my sanity, seeing him belong to another.
Suddenly, I felt myself thrown to the side when someone collided hard against me. The impact sent us falling. My elbows knocked hard against the pavement, sending jolts of pain up my limb.
"Sorry," a muffled sob accompanied the apology.
That voice registered in my mind. It could only belong to one person.
Taking a good look at the person before me, a gasp left my throat.
That familiar mop of black hair that I like to feel in my hands…
"Ryoma?"
He raised his face. Tears streaked it
"Keigo?" he mumbled disbelievingly, blinking furiously, before bursting out in tears.
His arms encircled around my waist, crushing me in a hug.
Cries emitted from his shaking figure, tearing my heart apart in all directions.
"Don't cry, Ryoma," I soothed as I gently lifted his face, placing kisses where tears streamed down, "You know I hate to see you cry." I rocked him tenderly. "What happened?" I asked gently, cradling him in my arms. Did Momoshiro bully my Ryoma?
"Momo-senpai…remembers…forget…Keigo..." were the only words I could make out from his mumble.
My arms tightened around him.
I knew it. That guy. I am going to kill him.
"I don't want to remember anymore." I blinked, trying to process his words. Previous thoughts of murdering Momoshiro fled from my mind at lightning speed.
"Could you repeat what you just said?"
He looked up. "I don't want to remember anymore."
Even though I am not sure what triggered such a decision, my heart skipped. It was practically dancing. Maybe all those "I would look after him forever" stuff would not occur after all.
"You don't have to," I whispered, staring at him in glee, making no attempt to hide the grin on my face, "We can return home and forget everything that has happened."
Forget Seigaku. Forget the past. Forget Tezuka.
A nod was all that he gave, but it was enough.
I was contented to stay in this position forever, where we could only see each other, and the rest of the world did not matter. Utter bliss.
But alas, it was short-lived. Moments later, I found Ryoma pulled harshly out of my arms. A hand gripped my collar tightly, hoisting me up to eye level with the person.
My eyes met cold hazel orbs. The eyes of the last person I want to see at this moment or any moment for that matter.
"Tezuka." His name rolled off my tongue like poison.
"I told you to stay away from him," he growled, "Which part of that do you not understand!?"
Clutching his arm tightly, Ryoma tried to break his hold over my shirt; pleas flew out of his mouth. "Please, Tezuka-buchou, let him go."
Tezuka ignored him, eyes burrowing hard into mine.
Not one to back done without a fight, I countered with a glare.
I refuse to back down, definitely not after hearing Ryoma's conviction.
I will uphold to it.
"Ryoma is coming back with me." My words remained firm, resolve not once faltered by his gaze.
"You really are selfish," he sneered, "You already know that he does not belong with you, ever."
Images of Fuji crying his heart out for the person that would never reciprocate his feelings flashed through my mind.
"And you are not?" I retorted.
"What are you talking about?" His eyebrows furrowed, confusion laced his words.
I have to take my hat off for him. How could someone this oblivious cause so much pain to the person who loved him the most?
"Don't play dumb with me. Isn't Fuji just a substitute to you for Ryoma?" His eyes, hidden behind the lenses, widened at the question. Though slightly, almost unnoticed by the untrained eye, but was enough to justify that he was shocked at my question.
"Isn't he just someone you could abandon when the person you care about returned?"
My head snapped to the side as he swung his fist at me, said object collided painfully with my cheek. I stumbled back a few steps. A metallic, coppery taste filled my mouth, momentarily gagging me. Spitting the offensive liquid from my mouth, I wiped its traces off the side of my lips.
I stared at him hard, akin to a person staring at a convicted criminal.
With a look filled with anger, disgust and pity.
He was furious. Anger surging out from pores all over his body.
He lunged at me, hands aiming for my neck. "Don't you dare say that about Shusuke!"
"Am I not wrong to say that!?" I shouted, battling his hands away. "Once Ryoma returned, you've totally neglected Fuji, casting him aside like a doll." My eyes narrowed to slits. "How dare you accuse me of being selfish when you too are, you hypocrite!"
"Shut up," he roared, "You know nothing at all, so don't you say such nonsense!"
"I know nothing?" I scoffed, "Fuji told me everything, everything you did to him."
The sudden refusal to talk to him beyond school related stuff.
The sudden refusal to be seen close to him in proximity and in relation.
The constant crowding around him
The demotion from "lover" to friend in a day.
It was slowly tearing Fuji apart.
One moment I was having a war of words with Tezuka, and the next I found myself pushed backwards.
I staggered a few steps back involuntarily
Onto the road.
Into the path of an approaching car.
My senses heightened as all things ran in slow motion.
The car's honk was deafening.
The woman behind the wheel was desperately stepping on the brakes; a look of shock and fear mirrored mine.
All of a sudden, as fast as it came, it all stopped, and I found myself on the ground, pain emitting from my body's contact point with the ground.
Around my elbows… only my elbows!?
Wait. Wasn't I hit by a car? Shouldn't I feel immense, backbreaking pain all over my body?
Unless…?
Looking around, I found myself off the path of the car, on the pavement.
Not an ounce of blood was found around me.
Somebody had pushed me out of harm's way?
Who? Who could that be?
Looking back at the crash site, my heart stopped, and fear grappled my entire body.
There, lying meters from the car was a body. His body.
Oh God.
Picking myself up, I ran towards it, a cry tearing from my throat.
Scooping his prone body into my arms, I placed a hand over the head wound. Warm scarlet liquid flowed through the cracks between my fingers, running down my hand, meeting the ground in droplets. The smell of blood started to fill the scene as more droplets hit the ground.
From my position, I could see his eyes starting to dull.
I buried my face into the fabric of his shirt, now soaked with his blood.
Somebody?
His breathing shallowed.
Anybody?
His frantic heart rate slowed.
Please Help…
Call the ambulance.
"Call the ambulance!" I screamed at the driver. With a squeak, she pulled out her phone, fumbling it a few times before calling for help.
Her conversation did not interest me; my attention remained on the figure in my arms, whose life was slowly draining away as the liquid that held it flowed from his body. Helplessness and desperation ensnared me.
"K….Ki……" he continued to make those sounds.
"It's ok," I comforted, holding his head close to the side of my neck, listening to his breath leaving in small gasps. Tears were choking me, "I am here."
I will not let you die, Ryoma.
Atobe's POV
"Here, Atobe."
My eyes traced from the confines of my hands to Fuji's non-smiling face to the Styrofoam cup in his hand. Steam was pouring from the top of the cup.
"Thanks," I mumbled, accepting the hot drink from Fuji. Taking a sip, the liquid burned my taste buds, scalding my tongue, but did nothing to ease the sinking cold feeling swirling within me.
Did I make it in time?
The waiting room only had nine occupants, including me, but the very atmosphere in this place was whisked into a nerve-racking urgency of everyone's collective anxiety.
Oishi, Momoshiro and Kikumaru were pacing about the room, eyes never leaving the sign above the operating theatre.
Inui was sitting in one of the corner seats, accompanied silently by Kawamura.
Tezuka was sitting seats away from Fuji and me, head buried within his hands. His shoulders were trembling slightly.
And Kaidoh was…chanting?
A squeeze on my knee brought my attention back to the person beside me.
"Fuji?"
"He is going to be ok," he comforted, giving me a slight smile.
"I know." Turning my sight towards the cup within my hand, I observed my distorted reflection in the stagnant fluid. I just couldn't bring myself to smile back at Fuji.
Why do I feel like something will happen?
Two hours later, my drink had turned cold, but the door to the operating theatre remained shut.
Another feeling wormed its way into my stomach, twisting itself into knots.
Fear.
Why is it taking so long?
Moments later, the doors to the theatre finally opened and a man walked out. Locks of black hair once hidden by the cap on his face fell across his forehead. It was glistering with sweat, evidence of the duration of the operation.
"Are any of you here his family members?" his voice was deep, face solemn.
Fear amplified itself within me.
"His parents moved back to America three years ago," one of the Seigaku regulars answered, but I was not paying attention to who said it. I only want to know what happened to my Ryoma.
"How is he?" I found myself saying.
"The operation was a success, his condition has stabilized."
Cheers erupted throughout the room, but I did not join it.
Years of looking into people's expressions told me.
Something was amiss, if it were all good news, shouldn't he be smiling? Why the serious face? Even the most stoic of persons, Tezuka, had once displayed emotions.
Unless….?
"Is there something wrong?"
The doctor turned towards me before looking at the others, "Has such a similar accident happened before?"
Everyone's eyes were on me.
"Yes, but why?"
"We found traces of a blood clot in the blood vessel leading towards the hippocampus," he started, "Most likely attributed to an incident similar to this."
"What does this mean, doctor?" I pushed, desperate now.
"Did Echizen-kun suffer from some form of memory loss prior to this incident?" he asked.
Everyone in the room nodded. He smiled slightly as our reactions seemed to affirm his theory.
"The most probable cause of his memory loss would be the blood clot blocking or limiting access of oxygen to the hippocampus," he paused, "Now that the clot is gone, the blood vessel is once again able to pump blood smoothly to this region of the brain. There is a high possibility that whatever memory he had lost could be able to return back to him."
The silence in the room was shattered by the sound of a cup plummeting onto the floor.
A/N: Please read and review.