PoT: drabbles
Drabbles for kessie. Pre-Tezuka/Ryoma, manga continuity, spoilers up to Genius 160/Hyoutei arc. All entirely worksafe.


the quiet of a storm approaching

The sound of cheering is almost drowned in the rumble of the plane, low overhead. You look up as it passes, wondering whether it's only your imagination that the clouds are growing and gathering in the summer heat of the sky.

You can't ignore it forever; the sounds from the court are only getting louder, and Momo-senpai is visibly hurrying as he packs away his racquet. There's nothing to be nervous about, no doubt in your mind, because this is buchou and he has told you that he will win. You sprint back anyway, and tell yourself that you're still warming up.




when was it over?

Ryoma thinks maybe it's his first glance at the scoreboard that's the worst part. Six-all, tie-break, when Tezuka-buchou had been leading so effortlessly before… Before. There is hardly any cheering, now; everyone is too busy staring at the court, mouths open as the tie-break goes on and on. Ryoma feels like he can't quite swallow; there's a weight in his stomach and all he can see is the memory of another day, another match entirely.

He watches because he has to, because he can't look away, because even in pain and desperation buchou's form is perfect. Beautiful, Ryoma thinks, as his eyes track the familiar patterns of Tezuka's movements. He feels sick.




marching through my door now

He'd known it was coming, known since those long minutes sitting together on the bench with nothing to say as the umpire had talked about risks and lasting damage. He'd known that buchou wouldn't give up, with the Nationals at stake. It had left a bad taste in his mouth, like endings, because Tezuka's last match should have belonged to him. What point is there in beating someone who can't play at full strength?

It feels weird, now, to go to practice as though nothing has happened, but there are still matches to play, tournaments to win, Nationals to aim for. It's just that the courts seem strangely empty without that silent, watchful figure; he keeps thinking that he is being watched, and turning to find that there is no one there. It's like they're all stepping carefully around an empty space, and he doesn't like it at all. He takes out his annoyance in serving balls at the falling leaves again after practice, but no matter how many hits he makes the sour taste won't leave his mouth.




if the world was on fire no one could save me but you

The look Echizen throws back over his shoulder as he leaves the clubhouse is bright and impatient and just a little smug, as though the scoreboard is a set in his favour. Tezuka feels his breath hitch as the anticipation curls and stretches through his limbs; his mind knows that it has been too long since they have played, but his body reacts to Echizen's presence. He knows himself well enough to tell that there will be sleepless nights ahead, and it is only the spring ranking matches. The thought of a year, another year, with this older and taller and even more stunning Echizen… Tezuka takes a deep breath, clears his mind, and reminds himself to focus on the match at hand. He will not give this up.