Ship: Yukimura & Ryoma Fandom: Prince of Tennis Major Tags: tags omitted Other Tags: tags omitted Word Count: 401 words
Warnings for illness and future character death! This kinda got a little angsty.
***
"One last game," Yukimura said and how could Ryoma turn down a man's dying request? The illness that had stricken Yukimura in his teens had returned with a vengeance, roaring through his body and devasting it so swiftly that by the time it was noticed, the doctors said it was too dangerous to operate.
Yukimura had nothing to look forwards to now except a slow, encroaching death as his senses shut off and his body stopped responding to his commands. While he could still move, while he could still talk, he made a list of his desires and his friends and family immediately got to work ensuring as many of them were as fulfilled as possible.
Ryoma, now a famous tennis player, had been surprised to receive a call from Sanada all those years later. He didn't bother with an agent, screening his calls himself, so he picked up immediately when he saw the name that flashed on the screen.
He'd been practicing in the south of France, taking advantage of a friend's villa to peacefully hole up and play nonstop, but when Sanada explained the circumstances to him, Ryoma agreed to fly back to Japan without even a second of hesitation.
Sanada offered to cover the cost of the airfare but Ryoma refused. He had done well enough for himself. He could afford a trip back to Japan and besides, he could meet up with some of his old friends as well.
Grateful for Ryoma's generosity, Sanada didn't push it.
*
"Thank you, Echizen," Yukimura said as he walked onto the court with a smile. While he walked unaided, there was a thinnness to him that Ryoma didn't like. Yukimura's skin was too pale, his face too drawn. The skin over his bones had stretched tightly, a corpse's funeral mask fashioned early, and within his sunken eyes, Yukimura's gaze burnt with the feverish intensity of someone who could feel their time running out.
Ryoma wasn't sure what to say. Politeness had never been his forte but telling Yukimura he looked like shit when he was dying seemed a little blunt even for him. He tossed the ball into the air and bounced it on his racket a few times instead.
"Don't think that I'll go easy on you," he warned, flashing Yukimura the best smirk he could.
In return, the corners of Yukimura's lips lifted slightly. "I would never want that."
FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 401 words
Warnings for illness and future character death! This kinda got a little angsty.
***
"One last game," Yukimura said and how could Ryoma turn down a man's dying request? The illness that had stricken Yukimura in his teens had returned with a vengeance, roaring through his body and devasting it so swiftly that by the time it was noticed, the doctors said it was too dangerous to operate.
Yukimura had nothing to look forwards to now except a slow, encroaching death as his senses shut off and his body stopped responding to his commands. While he could still move, while he could still talk, he made a list of his desires and his friends and family immediately got to work ensuring as many of them were as fulfilled as possible.
Ryoma, now a famous tennis player, had been surprised to receive a call from Sanada all those years later. He didn't bother with an agent, screening his calls himself, so he picked up immediately when he saw the name that flashed on the screen.
He'd been practicing in the south of France, taking advantage of a friend's villa to peacefully hole up and play nonstop, but when Sanada explained the circumstances to him, Ryoma agreed to fly back to Japan without even a second of hesitation.
Sanada offered to cover the cost of the airfare but Ryoma refused. He had done well enough for himself. He could afford a trip back to Japan and besides, he could meet up with some of his old friends as well.
Grateful for Ryoma's generosity, Sanada didn't push it.
*
"Thank you, Echizen," Yukimura said as he walked onto the court with a smile. While he walked unaided, there was a thinnness to him that Ryoma didn't like. Yukimura's skin was too pale, his face too drawn. The skin over his bones had stretched tightly, a corpse's funeral mask fashioned early, and within his sunken eyes, Yukimura's gaze burnt with the feverish intensity of someone who could feel their time running out.
Ryoma wasn't sure what to say. Politeness had never been his forte but telling Yukimura he looked like shit when he was dying seemed a little blunt even for him. He tossed the ball into the air and bounced it on his racket a few times instead.
"Don't think that I'll go easy on you," he warned, flashing Yukimura the best smirk he could.
In return, the corners of Yukimura's lips lifted slightly. "I would never want that."