In the Shadow of a Life (NOT Tango)

[Lovux The Great]

Title: In the Shadow of a Life.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis.
Author: Lovux The Great.
Summary: Shiraishi turns his own life into a living hell.
Spoiler: Well, yes, from the National games. You should have seen episode 15 of the OAV.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Prince of Tennis, that privilege is Konomi Takeshi’s and his only. That lucky bastard… I could KILL to own Atobe… or be owned by Atobe… That didn’t came out right did it?

Author’s comment: Well, it’s Lovux first TeniPuri fanfiction. Yay for that. Or maybe not. As you all know by now, my English skills SUCK. No really, they do. That’s the reason why I don’t write much stories (like fanfictions) in English, simply because my vocabulary and knowledge about expressions and so on won’t do. That is why this fanfic will be a major let-down, because of the really, really, REALLY bad grammar.
This is the only TeniPuri-related story I’ve written so far, and when I wrote the original in Swedish, I wanted to use a different style than I usually do; a more concrete and straight-forward way, without complications and words that entangle themselves in descriptions as so on. I also think this is the main reason why I chose to translate this story into English, because I wouldn’t have to take on too much that I can’t handle. I guess it’s also obvious that this story is better in Swedish, MUCH better.
I’d also like to point out that this novel is, one; very long, so it’s not something for people in a hurry. And two; this is not for sensitive people that are easily offended by drugs and other humans torturing themselves. Think twice before you read this.

Other than that, I can only say, enjoy “In the Shadow of a Life”!

Oh, and happy belated birthday, Shiraishi!

------

You open your eyes and look up at the ceiling. The crack next to the fluorescent lamp seems to have grown bigger since the last time you checked. Light is flowing in through the window that has been open for the whole night; you love fresh air, it keeps you strong and healthy. You yawn before you rise up from bed.

Your name is Shiraishi Kuranosuke. Most people see you as a talented, wise and not to mention very handsome youngling. It is not very strange, considering that you are the captain of Shitennhouji's tennis club. But no one knows that you have a secret. It is that secret you are going to spend time on before your day goes on.

You open a drawer and start to dig around in the junk, the thousands of papers and what not before you find what you are looking for. It is a little box with three dancing goblins as the motif. When you open it up, you find a lot of different things; a plastic bag with a mix of green and brown. A smaller box with pills. Another bag with ugly lumps in it. You smirk at what you see... but then get a little concerned face. You have already tested everything in the box, but alas, everything is as wonderful as the others - what to choose today?

"Kuranosuke, are you awake yet?"

It is your feeble mother who is knocking on the door. Your reflexes make you instantly put the box back again in the drawer, and then your answer can be heard.

"Yes, I am! But don't come in, I'm changing clothes!"

"Don't worry, I've seen you naked as a baby countless times anyway", your mother says. "The breakfast is on the table, just so you know. I'd recommend you to go before your sisters get up. You know about their bottomless stomachs."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be right there."

You hear your mother's footsteps going downstairs. It's the signal that says: The coast is clear. You open up the box again and choose randomly. It is going to be the pills again. You go back to bed and lie down. You fumble a little with the pill between the lips that several girls in your school could kill to kiss - and swallow it.

"Ecstasy..."

-----

Everything started out fairly innocent. It was never meant to be like this. You just wanted to test it once during that party in Junior High. when you were thirteen. A couple of the school's coolest people were chilling right outside the hall where the party was held, and they laughed and seemed to have an enjoyable time, in that natural style everyone wants to do something. You had only slipped outside to get some fresh air, but they called for you and you sat down next to them. Why yes, your friend Chitose Senri did have a troubled look in his face when he saw your desire to socialize with them, but with a considerable amount of alcohol having your body and mind in a tight grip, it did not bug you the slightest.

One of them held up some pills and powder and dried leaves and other stuff and before you knew it, you sat there with a joint in the corner of your mouth and inhaling deep breathes all the way down to your toes. Things rushed through your head, you chuckled and sobbed at the same time to your awesome buddies' blurred stories and blinked when the smoke stung your eyes.

After a while, you had had enough of being still. Not you had a sudden urge to move your body. And what would be more fitting for an athlete like yourself than a tennis game? The court was just right around the corner, and breaking into the club house for rackets would be a piece of cake. Soon, you were running around on the court together with a few seniors you had never got to play during the club training. And for the first time in your life, you enjoyed your so-called "Perfect Tennis". You did not give a shit about kicking your seniors' asses - which is something you still get irritated over. Here, you got both the thrill and the amusement of being superior.

It did not take longer than a week before you ordered some of the "miracle goods" over the internets, and you laughed at how easy it was.

-----

You are standing in front of the mirror in the men's bathroom. You are dressed up in your school's outstanding yellow and green uniform, ready to confront your opponent. You hear and feel the audience's buzz up in the grandstands. Soon, it will be time for Shitennhouji Chuu and Seishun Gakuen to cross swords on the battlefield. But something is missing. You need something that softens your boredom that also goes by the name Perfect Tennis. Fortunately, you brought your bag with you and while you are digging for your means, somebody shows up in the doorway.

It is Chitose.

He says nothing, but leans against the wall. His lips are closed when he watches you take out the jar of your favourite pills. But when he sees you swallow two of them down with a good drink of water from the tap, they move.

"You do realize that what you do is the same thing as cheating, don't you?"

You pretend not to hear.

"Shiraishi, if anyone finds out, you'll be dropped from the team. Forever."

Now you feel his hand on your shoulder.

"Are you so weak that you have to put your faith in drugs to make sure you win?"

Weak? ... You? That is ridiculous!

"I'm not weak", you say and push away his hand, "But if you had this 'Perfect Tennis' as well, you would sooner or later be as bored as I am."

"Is that your reason? You're bored?"

"... You should be grateful I’m giving my opponent a handicap."

"Seigaku's Fuji Syuusuke if anybody doesn't need a handicap. You know that, Shiraishi, we've talked about it, haven't we?"

"Yeah, but as long as I win, it's okay. The winner wins, right?"

"Don't come whining at my place if you loose."

"No worries."

A confident smirk spreads your lips wide. Chitose lets out a dejected sigh, and right then, the Siamese lovers Koharu and Yuuji burst into the room like a horde of elephants during a rampage.

"Why are you still here?" Koharu says.

"It's almost our turn!" Yuuji says.

"Or perhaps you'd rather stay down here..."

"... And get to know each other better..."

"... Just the two of you!" they end the sentence in union and giggle like two schoolgirls.

You grab hold of your bag (and discreetly let the jar of pills you have been hiding behind your back slip down in it), and hasten off right past your team mates.

"Come on!" you shout back at them, "Let's go up and show Seigaku who's the boss!"

You do not notice that Chitose is worriedly shaking his head.

-----

He really is not that impressive, Seigaku's Fuji Syuusuke. Where has that natural talent you have heard ghost stories gone? Han can barely keep up with your shots, and you return his serves as if it was nothing. Each one of his infamous counters have you beaten. He is hobbling around on the court in a miserable shape, and you can tell from the look of his eyes and his every fibres that he is lost, lost like a kitten who tries to go through a swamp by jumping on crocodile backs.

This is going to be easy peasy for you.

Wait, what did he do now? Tsubame Gaeshi? Tsk, you will not fall for that. But when you swing your racket to return it, things get unclear. Your vision is blurry. But you can still see the ball. You hit it, and it is so easy for you it feels like you are hitting free air. You watch it land on Fuji's side of the net, but...

"40-15!"

What does this mean? You did hit the ball, you saw it landing... You blink and turn your eyes to Fuji's side of the net - there is no ball to be seen. You meet Fuji's sharp-as-knives eyes, then you look at your racket, yet once again at Fuji's side, and it seems like... the net is fluttering, with every single mesh in it obtaining the shape of a laughing mouth...

A cold chill travels down your spine.

... Hallucinations?

Okay, easy now, boy. You have had the upper hand since the first game started. One point is all you need now, just one single point! But still, what is this discomfort that comes crawling over your body, eerie and freezing?

You try to ignore it, while your eyesight is flickering. Try to breath deeply and collected, while you feel bubbles of panic popping in your stomach every second and ice cold caressing your back. Try to focus on the match, while you hear both the net and the string in your racket laugh at you.

You wish it stopped, that everything would be over. The terrifying image of Fuji Syuusuke has grown bigger and more powerful during the last minutes.

You are scared.

You do not hear the audience's screaming and cheering on the grandstands any longer. The only thing you care about in this moment is to try get that fucking ball over the net. You do hit the ball, but only to have it going right into the net, who is stall laughing at you.

Just you wait, you think, I'm gonna show you that I can hit a ball over you. You can't defeat me, and neither can Fuji Syuusuke!

You hit and you hit, and everything seems to dissolve in front of your eyes. This moment, everything is as clear as the sun and you know exactly what you are doing. That moment, you can barely tell where the ball is going. Your "Perfect Tennis" is all but boring now - but not the least amusing.

When things finally clear up once and for all, you see one of Fuji's shots fly right past you, like a white dragon. You did not make it in time.

"Out! Game Set, won by Shiraishi! 7-6!"

On his side of the court, Fuji is sitting down, completely exhausted and just as sweaty as you - if not with the most regretful eyes you have ever seen.

"Did I win?

Yes, you did. You beat your opponent fair and square in a match with equal possibilities. Or, well, it might not have been completely equal after all...

You walk up to the net (that has finally stopped laughing at you) and reach out your hand to the fallen warrior.

"You're amazing", you tell him.

"So are you", he answers.

Now this is a match you will always remember as a horror.

-----

Meh, what a lousy day. A break on three hours left till the next lesson starts. You are sitting in the schools cafeteria on the second floor, and look out through the window carelessly, observing what happens on the schoolyard. From here, you can see the tennis courts you and the rest of the team had your morning practice.

You notice that something is not right on the court. Three sophomores are whispering and sneaking around outside the club house, and they all look unmistakably suspicious. They open the door and enter, and probably locks the door after themselves.

I wonder what the heck is going on you think. Osamu and the yardkeeper are the only ones who's got the keys. You understand that those little brats are up to something. You stand up and walk down the corridor.

When you get to the club house, you lean against the wall and listen. Yep, you can hear their voices. Apparently, they do not seem to be using their sharpest intellect now. Not to mention this smell, which can recognize in an instant because you are so familiar with it yourself. You knock on the door.

"It's Shiraishi. Open now, I know exactly what's going on in there", you command just like you do during practice, when you are captain.

You hear some blurry replies inside, a few shuffling steps and the sound of a key being turned around in a lock. The door opens and a nerdy, complete jerk sticks out his nose. His eyes are buzzy and he smiles cheesily.

"Yooooo... Captain Cool. Wazzup, dude?"

You do not mind answering the jerk and you walk right past him in to the hut. His two buddies are sitting on the floor; a skinny dude with tons of acne in his face and something that reminds you of a long-haired gorilla. Both of them seem to be floating around in clouds somewhere else. In the bowl in the middle of what had been a circle before the jerk had risen, smoke is coming up. You can still see scraps of weed and resin in it.

"May I ask you what this is supposed to mean?", you ask sharply.

"Ehhhhuu...", the dude with acne sounds.

"Uuhhhhe...", the long-haired gorilla sounds.

The jerk seems to be one whose brain is still working reasonably properly, so he answers in his buddies places.

"Ey you see, we juz wanted do sumthing funny while mah homie's still here", he points in the long-haired gorilla's direction, "He's goin' to Yokohama, mate. So we stole the keys from da coah dis morning. We've always wanna do sumthing taboo... ish, and a lil' dangerous."

If you want to be so "dangerous", why don't you be more subtle about it?, you think before speaking out loudly.

"Listen, guys. What you do in your free time is none of my concerns, but I can't allow you so sit here and spend your time on... this kind of activities, here in the clubhouse, while you're still in school. As the captain of Shitennhouji's tennis club, I can't accept you being here and dishonouring our club house. I suggest that you leave immediately."

The jerk is staring like a dumb trucked in front of him, and his friends seem to have gotten hang of what the talking has been about. With legs shaking, they slowly stand up and are just about to take the bowl with weed with them before you stick your nose in their business again.

"I have to let that thing get confiscated. Give it to me, and I promise I won't tell the teachers."

Against his own will, the jerk leaves the bowl in your hands and then he, the acne-man and the gorilla go out, leaving you.

Alone.

In a small house where no one comes to during these hours.

With a bowl full of weed.

What to do?

If this had occurred sometime last year, you would have hold your breath and not given a damn about this whole confiscating deal and left the bowl in the nearest garbage can. But you are not the same as last year. You know that it is pure idiocy, and that you truly and honestly did plan to get rid of it, but what the heck, you think, just a few minutes won’t hurt. This day is really boring anyway so you might need something to spice it up.

You close the door, sit down with the bowl in your lap and lean back against one of the lockers with tennis rackets. You close your eyes and inhales long, deep breaths of the enchanting smoke.

Sweet.

You shift your gaze out through the window. There, you see a couple of crows sweeping over the rather prettily blue sky and they cry out twice each.

I wonder why my mom threw away my broken fire truck when I was six, you think diffusely, Or if he who created the first wheel worked for Toyota, Ford or Ferrari. Let’s just hope that he didn’t pick his teeth with a screwdriver, it costs a packet just to go to the dentist nowadays.

Thoughts are sauntering to and from inside your head, like if they are going by a lift up and down so confusedly and uncontrolled that you cannot keep it up. You are thinking of thousands of subjects and nothing at all at the same time. Somewhere in the middle of this whole mess, you become drowsy, and your eyelids starts to gain weight… The tired head of yours falls down to your chest once or twice before you find a reasonably good position where you can rest your neck. The lesson you were waiting for? Cheh, that doesn’t matter. All people need to ditch classes sometimes to recharge the batteries. That is what you think.

For now.

But in the moment where you are on your way of falling asleep, you hear the most terrifying of all sounds right now – the sound of someone opening the door. You do not bother doing something to hide your situation, only turning your head to see who is coming.

It is Watanabe Osamu. The coach of your tennis team.

You cannot think of a single word to say. Because, really – what do you say when your coach catches your red-handed in the middle of a weed smoking session?

It is quite simple; you change the subject.

“Ey, Osamu… did you know that you look exactly like Urahara from Bleach?”

“Shiraishi, what exactly are you doing?”

“N… Nothing special…”

“And you expect me to believe those words? I can see what you’re doing.”

“Then why did you ask-“

“I didn’t ask because I want to know, but because I want you to realize something about yourself.”

You feel your breath halt in your throat. You look down to the bowl in your lap and think of what Osamu has said. What are you doing? Smoking weed when in school and is discovered by the man who led you the semi finals of the Nationals. Now that’s what I call scene! And this is all just because you could not finish off what some ugly losers started.

You feel ashamed of yourself.

“I never thought you were like this, Shiraishi”, Osamu continues, “I could never imagine that I would find you of all people in a state like this.”

“It’s not what it looks like!”, you try, but you do not have the courage or will to argue against what he is saying.

“I have zero tolerance for this kind of matters. Especially when it comes to respected, gifted talents like you.”

“Hey, there were three others that-”

“And as if that’s not enough, you steal my keys to fool around in the club house, during school.”

“But-!”

“Listen up, Shiraishi”, Osamu says. “I used to be a dope myself once upon a time, and that’s exactly why I need go extra harsh on you, since that’s the only thing that helps.”

“What do you mean…?”

“It means that you’re not welcome to the practice today, tomorrow, or any other day.”

Then he goes and leaves you petrified with shock.

-----

[Lovux The Great]

You are at the town’s local street tennis court. The opponent is yourself and you hit the ball repeatedly against the wall; a classic practice method, if it was not for the fact that you are not allowed to practice any longer… at least not together with your team. Not even as just an ordinary club member without a name. You hit the ball with more power than previously and make no effort trying to catch it. You let it swish past your hair that flickers a little in the wind. It lands many meters behind you and rolls another half meter on the ground.

“SHIT! Fuck you, Osamu!”

You swear audibly as your inner vision plays the memories of today’s events before your eyes.

“It wasn’t me who took the keys. Or even brought the weed, to begin with”, you mutter.

The coach has his standards, alright, but did he really have to go so hard on you? Even if the Perfect Tennis is boring, the normal tennis as a hobby and a school activity is still a big part of your life, so why should that be punished? And what about your team? They are used to your presence and leadership and that you are always near them to support them and act as their mentor. You are only fifteen years old, but already a person that most people would be loyal to death for.

Death. There is plenty of people that have died when they used drugs and suffered the consequences of it. Just another day at school, your class saw a movie about that during biology class. You got the insight of a former drugs user’s life, where he told the viewer that he had carried the virus HIV, that later on turned into AIDS. But frankly speaking, that dude was a pathetic loser, he said so himself in the video. A trouble maker who abused people at school and came from an abusing family himself. You, on the other hand, have a kind family and you are one of the school’s most admired and popular characters. There’s now way you’d walk the same path as him! You are strong, you know that. You can quit whenever you want!

… Can't you?

You do not know.

You sigh deeply and look up at the sky. It is red and orange because of the sunset, and the clouds are light. It is beautiful. In a matter of a brief moment, you feel calmer already and turn around to go get the ball. But as your fingers touch the balls fuzzy surface, you can momentarily see a shadow grow bigger and bigger beneath you and before you get the smallest chance to react, you are brutally tackled and fall to the ground with a wild creature on top of you.

“Who the he…?!”, you almost roar when you sit up, but hesitates when your eyes meet Kintarou’s big, light brown pair behind the red mess that most people would call hair.

“Captain, where’ve ya been?!”, he screams loudly with his surprisingly strong arms wrapped around your waist. “It’s like nothing makes sense anymore if you aren’t with us during practice!”

“Is… that so…”, you stutter silently and do your best to sound collected after the little guy’s glomp attack.

“The coach, you know… He talked as if you didn’t exist… and obviously he’s turned deaf too. I know that, ‘cuz Chitose asked about you, but he said zero and like continued to do his coach stuff…”

So Chitose’s worrying. Damn. He, if anybody, could probably put all pieces together…

“Captaaain!” Kintarou whines loudly, holding his face one centimetre away from your own. “You have to come back tomorrow, promise!”

His grip around you tightens more and you feel that your ribs are starting to say no.

“Kintarou, could you just let go of my first? It really hurts, you know…”

“Only if you promise to come back to practice tomorrow!”

Now you feel pressured, not only because of the arms that are threatening about giving you a much thinner waist than you have ever had before.

“Well, you see, things are a little complicated right now and-!”

“Promise!”

Enough already. You hold up your left arm before the little boy’s eyes and tells him with a deep, malicious voice:

“If you don’t let go of me, I’ll unwrap these bandages and blow your brains out.”

Kintarou is up and about in less than a second. It is fortunate that he is stupid and you are smart. You stand up.

“Sorry Kin-chan, but I had to”, you says while dusting yourself off, “I do appreciate your display of regret for me, but pressing my lungs out of my mouth doesn’t help very much. Additionally…”, you look around the courts briefly, “… I don’t want any passing bystanders to mistake me for a person likes shotacon.”

“Who is shotacon?”

“… Never mind.”

You pick up the ball, as well as the racket that slipped out of your hand when the redhead pounced you.

“You gonna play?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I’ve been going at it for an hour and am considering calling this a day.”

“Why don’t ya just admit that you’re bored when you have no one to play with!” he shouts and points a guilty finger in your direction. “But guess what? I’m gonna play with you, just to show how aweso- I mean my sense of solidarity!”

You look at the little boy, surprised at first, then sceptically.

“Kin-chan, do you even know what solidarity means?”

“Nah.”

You let out a tired sigh and walk towards to other half of the court.

“But I’m sure that I’ll be like that if ya lemme play against ya!” he shouts after you and bounce a few times on the spot.

The next thing he knows is that a tennis ball swishes past him, painting a yellow line in mid-air, and to his surprise, he sees you with a racket in your hand and your body in a ready position. Your lips are curved into a smirk.

“Then you’ll have to stay alert if you insist of having me as your opponent!” you shout towards his half of the court. “Because if you aren’t, then this match will hardly even do for stretching.”

Kintarou is standing still for a few seconds, then he grins widely, and hurries to get the bag off is back and take out his own racket.

Twenty minutes later, it has darkened a lot around the two of you, and when the lampposts lit up, you realize that it is time to put an end to this.

“Kin-chan, it’s late”, you explain when you receive one off the red-head’s hits. You hit the ball between the ground and your racket a few times before you let it bounce up and you catch it elegantly.

“Aaaaw, is it time already?!” he complains.

“Yes, already”, you state while you stride off the court. You heart is still beating like in purest bliss. It really was wonderful to have an opponent to play; not boring at all, only funny. In moments like these, you realize what a special place tennis has in your heart… as long as you do not think of your completed, Perfect tennis.

Gee, when you see it that way, you see the memories of your life as a Tennis Bible rush through your mind, followed be the scene when Osamu dropped you of the club. You shake your head violently to get rid of the images. What a depressing emo panda I’ve become lately, you think while drying yourself off with a towel.

“Captain, captain, can I ask ya something!” Kintarou yells right in your ear.

“Sure thing”, you almost mumble while stuffing away your racket and the ball in the bag.

“Why do ya always say weird stuff like ‘Ecstasy’, when ya’re playing a really good game?”

“Because a good game puts me in ecstasy, since I’m having such a good time.”

“Oh, that’s it! Yanno, I thought it was because ya, like, eat Ecstasy for breakfast or something.”

Bingo.

“Or something, tee hee! Just kidding! A smart and cool captain like ya wouldn’t do anything like that!”

How come that the guy with the lowest IQ was the first one to realize what is going on, even if he was not aware of it?

“No…”, you say while scratching your back head, “I wouldn’t.”

“Captain, captain!”

“Can ask ya just one more thing! Pretty, pretty pleeeaase?”

You hesitate for a second but do not bother arguing.

“Why weren’t ya on the practice today?”

What, is he on Curiosity pills or something? But you are tired and not in the best of forms to think of a good excuse. Come up with something quickly!

“Has it to do with the coach or something?”

Come up with something quickly!

“Well…”

Come up with something quickly!

“… You see, Osamu and I…”

Come up with something quickly!

“… We’re FB’s, if you know what I mean!”

What.

The.

Hell.

Are you saying?!

“But I broke up with him today, because I like somebody else, and well, he got a little pissed for that and dropped me. But I had to promise him not to tell anyone about this, ‘cuz it would be quite, you know, not good, if anyone found out about our relationship”, you keep going and feel more and more nauseous.

Kintarou seems to just as stunned over your words as yourself. His big eyes blink twice and he tilts his head.

“Yanno, I don’t really understand nothing” and rises an eyebrow in question. You can tell from the look of his eyes that he is telling you the truth. He really does not now what you are talking about at all.

But still. You cannot take this anymore.

“ByenowKinchangottagoseeyouatschoolanddonttellanyoneaboutmeandOsamucuzifyoudoyouredeadmeat!”, you spit out as rapidly as you can, grab your bag on the ground and half-jogs away from the place. Kintarou is not offended by your action, but shrugs his shoulders and struts in the opposite direction while humming a catchy hit he heard on the radio.

It does not take more than a few hundreds of metres before the tears are rolling down your cheeks.

---

[Lovux The Great]

When you arrive at school the next morning, you instantly realize that something is wrong. Students are whispering, the teachers seem to be upset. You are reminded of an event that occurred during your freshman year, where a student had been killed in a car crash, and the whole school mourned and was full of gossips and rumours about what really happened that made the car crash. The atmosphere today is similar, but more… angry?

I have to find out what’s happened, you think and spot your (former) team mate Kenya when he is picking some books in his locker.

“What’s going on here?” you ask him when you have walked up to him.

Kenya lets out an irritated sigh and rolls his eyes, as if he cannot believe his own captain to be this clueless about the situation.

“Y’aven’t heard? The police arrested Osamu this morning.”

Your ears must be deceiving you. “Arrested…?”

“Yeah, t’was something about him nailing a kid or two. Child predatory. T’was someone’s mum who called the police, her… son, I think ‘ad told her about another student’s story ‘bout Osamu’s interest in kids. T’is at least the version that ‘as reached my ears. But that’s prob’ly not the real story, y’know what makeovers rumours n’ stuff like that get when the’ go from mouth to mouth... Hey, Shiraishi, ya listenin’?”

It can’t be.

Yesterday, you spew out the worst kind of lies to protect yourself… and this is what happens? Osamu’s whole career and image is on the verge of destruction thanks to you. He might not be able to live a normal life after this; he will have to leave the school, and will be strictly forbidden to come near children or youths, or he will have to change his identity to escape the terror from people who despises child predatory.

Just what were you thinking with last night?

“Nothing, apparently”, you mumble faintly to yourself and turn around. Kenya is left behind with a puzzled look, as he watches you sprint away.

Then he shrugs his shoulders.

“He took it fairly well”, is the statement he makes and picks up a note book that had fallen out of the locker.

You are rushing through the corridor. You feel a terrible pressure in your chest; a pressure that goes all the way down to your belly and makes you nauseous. Your eyes are burning. Your throat is dry. Your legs are shaking.

It is the sense of guilt that takes over.

You reach the (fortunately, empty) boy’s bathroom in just the right moment and throw up in the nearest toilet. You hope that the shame will leave with your vomit, but no. It presses on in your chest and belly, and you sink down to your knees in front of the toilet seat. You draw breath; short, rough pants that do not reach your lungs. You feel warm and cold at the same time… and so terribly filthy.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I DONE?!”, you scream so your vocal cords hurt, and don’t give a damned shit about if anyone can hear you.

Yeah, what have you done?

You lied to save your own neck, and because of this, Osamu is suffering. No, not only him, but the teaching staff, the school… the tennis club. Kenya. Koharu. Yuuji. Kintarou. Gin, Zaizen. Chitose. They are all standing without their captain, as well as their trainer, and will surely hate you for all eternity if they ever find out that this is all your fault.

Your fault.

Your fault.

YOUR FAULT.

Fuck you.

“Stupid, despicable, fucking bastard…!” you whimper in rage.

That heavy, filthy pressure is not going away. Subconsciously, you dig your fingernails in the school uniform in a desperate attempt to make it disappear. The nails are piercing your chest. It is painful, it is so unbelievably painful. But that is exactly what you deserve.

“Shit, shit, shit… It hurts so much…!”

Then why don’t you do something about it, you pathetic loser!

And you do do something. First, you mess around in your school bag and swallow a whole fist of pills. Then you stumble up to a washbasin, cup your hand and drink water like that. It is messy and you spill a lot of water on your throat and chest.

Then you spot a forgotten, or accidentally dropped, pair of scissors beneath the washbasin.

And from there and on, everything moves rapidly.

Before you know it, you are on your knees on the floor and have forced the scissors’ sharp blades into your right arm. When you see the first drips of blood trickle down your skin, the pressure in your chest fades a little. Not much, but at least a little. You pull the scissors over your tanned skin, and with horror, despise and relief mixed together, you observe the deep, red wounds that appears. It hurts, oh, damn it hurts – but it drowns the shame in your chest and belly. Soon, you have cut the bandages on your left arm wide open and let it receive the same treatment as the right one. Meanwhile, the pills are starting to bear effect – the pain, of all kinds, fades and brings peace to your heart.

When you finally let go of the soaked knife, you lean your head back, with your arms hanging loosely on your sides and the warm, red blood flowing down them and dripping on the floor tiles.

“Ecstasy…” you sigh happily.

---

It sure is fortunate that you are always carrying around extra bandages in your bag.

When the surge of joy has passed and you have returned to reality, you wash your arms in the washbasin and dries them up with paper tissues. The blood is still running, but you do get rid of the worst and carefully wrap them both up – with layers thick enough not to have any dark pink spots being visible. You clean up the blood on the floor as well. All the paper tissues are flushed down in the toilet seats; you make sure that each seat gets about the same amount of blood-stained paper to prevent blocked pipes.

Now, you are finally done. You look over the room to check if you have missed a spot somewhere. Hmm… No, everything looks just like it did when you entered. No one should be able to tell that somebody has cut both arms wide open and been bleeding like a running waterfall.

You look at your cell phone to check what time it is. You have missed the first class.

I’ll just tell the teacher I overslept, you conclude and slip down the phone in your bag. It becomes neighbour with the scissors.

You put your hand on the door handle. All I gotta do is to continue this day where I left it…

You turn the handle. But thank God no one came in during this whole time…

The door opens from the outside!

You stumble forward and is in unbalance for a moment. But when you turn your head upwards, you find yourself staring eye to eye with…

“… Chitose?”

At first, he looks as surprised as you do. Then he pushes you without further ado back into the bathroom and make sure that he closes the door after himself. He even pulls a pen out of his pocket, fixes with the keyhole and voila, the door is locked.

“Chitose, what are you-?” you begin, but is interrupted.

“Shiraishi, we need to talk.”

Demonstratively, you cross your arms on your chest. “About what?”

“Don’t pretend you’re clueless, because you’re not.”

You sigh and roll your eyes.

“There’s nothing that needs to be talked about. Neither about me nor you or someone else”, you say.

“Oh, you better believe it!” the dark-haired youth says and goes on; “This DOES have something to do with someone else...”

His eyes pierces you furiously.

“Why did you do that to Osamu?”

“Did? Me?”

“That’s right, you, Shiraishi Kuranosuke-buchou. Without warning, you, the captain, quit the tennis club. Osamu acts as if you don’t exist, and the next day the police breaks in and puts him in trial. I don’t know how your brain works, Shiraishi, but, neither me nor anyone else is stupid enough not to put two and two together.”

You swallow discreetly.

“Everybody knows that Osamu wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less oogle some boys in their teens. No trainer without psychological problems would ever do that!”

For a moment, you think of what Kenya had told you once about what he had heard from his cousin Yuushi from Hyoutei. Apparently, the coach there had some strange behaviour every now and then during practice, and his eyes were filled with lust and really badly hidden desire when he sees the club members stretch, run laps around the courts or take off their t-shirts to squeeze the sweat out of it. But Hyoutei is quite strange school in general, so that probably does not count.

“Tell me the truth. What happened between you and Osamu?”

“Nothing! Can’t you hear what I’m saying?!”

“You’re not the fine liar you used to be.”

You let out an annoyed moan and face palms.

“Even if there was something that has happened, it’s still not proper of you to stick your nose in business that has nothing to do with you!”

Chitose looks really pissed and takes two steps forward.

“Nothing to do with me?” he repeats. “We, the regulars, did just loose our trainer AND our captain and you claim that this ain’t my business? What’s wrong with you, have you smoked again or what?! … Or chopped a bunch of pills or whatever the heck you’re doing!

Spot-on.

“People are talking”, he goes on, “Rumours about you and Osamu have spread around the school already. And the police will definitely seek us regulars up for interrogation – especially you, I dare to say. Face it, Shiraishi, it’s over.”

Something inside you flares up and you feel your temper being loosened a bit.

“Oh no, Chitose”, you answer him confidently, “This is just the beginning. We don’t know who the winner is until it’s over, which it clearly isn’t. There’s plenty of room for development. You want me to tell you something? I’m glad to get rid of this boring tennis and this bullcrap from other people swooning over me and always telling me that I’m a friggin’ Tennis Bible that does everything without flaws.”

“That’s not what you said when I spoke to Kintarou yesterday.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he called me and sounded like he was about to explode any minute from excitement. He spoke really fast said that he was happy for playing you and that you seemed to be quite happy yourself. He also told me that…”

He looks down to his feet while scowling his face, as if he cannot believe what he is about to say.

“… You had told him that you and Osamu were…”, he clears his throat, “…’FB’s’, and asked me what that means. Then I asked him if he knew something else about this, but he just got hysterical and refused to talk, ‘since the captain will kill me if I do’. Making him talk was a bitch, but when he finally did… he said that the two of you and Osamu had been in a relationship, but broke up because you had fallen for someone else.”

He looks up and his eyes are so sharp you can feel his look stinging your whole body.

“Was that the best excuse you could come up with?” he asks sarcastically.

“But what the heck was I supposed to do? Just tell him point-blank that ‘Oh, Osamu caught me when I was smoking weed in the club house and dropped me’, eh?!”

By then, you realize what you just have told him and look down to the floor and clench your fist over your own stupidity.

“So that’s how it was”, Chitose ascertains.

He walks up to you till there is only a half metre between you two.

“Let’s see if I’ve gotten it right now”, he says thoughtfully with his hand on his chin, stroking an invisible beard, “Osamu discovered you when you were smoking weed. Due to this, he dropped you from the tennis club. When Kin-chan asked you about the situation, you lied about you and the coach having a relationship, that you was the one who broke up and that that was the real reason you got dropped. Am I right?”

“You’re right.”

BANG!

A spot-on perfect uppercut on the chin. You feel your feet lift a bit from the ground and then you fall, completely handless, to the floor, twisting your face in pain.

“You fucking son of a bitch!” the dark-haired youth roars, “How could you! Don’t you have any shame at all?!”

As a matter of fact; yes, I do, in a way you’ll never understand, you stupid barbarian! you think while sitting up. You brush your fingertips across the chin and whimper.

Then a forgotten thought is shot through your mind.

“Wait a minute. How come that…”, you are interrupted by a terrible sting of pain in your chin, “… The police were made aware of what Kintarou had said? … Don’t tell me it was you who…”

“No, but Kintarou’s mom. Apparently, she had asked him what he’d done during the day, you know, like most moms do, and then he had without any hesitation babbled on about a teacher he knew at school that was FB with his students, and that it absolutely not was the tennis coach. Of course, you don’t need many brain cells to conclude that she attacked the phone the first thing she did.”

While listening to Chitose’s story, you slowly stand up and adjust your school uniform, straightening out a few wrinkles.

“But why should I know, perhaps you’ve used so much dope that you lost your brain substance and can’t think properly.”

“Don’t bring that fucking crap into this!”, you burst, almost scream, out.

“That’s exactly what it is – real fucking crap!” Chitose screams back and sounds just as upset as you are. “Why don’t you just quit it? It would be a win-win situation, especially for you!”

You feel the wrath boiling on your insides. You walk up to Chitose and pokes his chest, strongly.

“What I do with my life is my responsibility! Mine and no one else’s! You have no right to come here and think you know what’s best for me!”

Chitose’s face changes. He does not look angry or upset any longer, but rather dissatisfied.

“What has come onto you?” he asks and tries hard not to sound worried, “You’re not the Shiraishi I’ve learned to know during all these years.”

“Gimme a break, Chitose. It’s just your head that’s making things up. I’m fine. Better than ever.”

Before given a chance to draw back, Chitose grabs your right arm that was not wrapped in bandages before and holds it on eye-level between the two of you.

“Good. Then you could let both of your wrapped arms speak for you from now on.”

He lets go of you. You pull your arm back and walk past your former team mate without giving him the smallest look in the eye. At the door, you take out the scissors from the bag again and unlock the door. Chitose does not say a word during the time it takes, but when you open the door, he calls for you.

“Shiraishi…”

But you refuse to reply.

You dash out and walks through the corridor with stubborn steps, not giving a damn about other students sending weird and confused looks after you. Meanwhile, Chitose slowly walks out as well and stops dead in your tracks. He does not let go of you with his eyes for a second.

“… Kuranosuke.”

---

[Lovux The Great]

Osamu was not convicted. Just as Chitose predicted, all of the regulars were called in for interrogation – you kept a straight face during for the whole time being – and since there were not enough of evidence, your coach was freed. This could have been the perfect set-up for a happy ending, if it was not for the fact that a paedophile image is not the easiest stain of dirt to wash away. When Osamu for the seventh time found his desk in the teacher’s office being soaked with rotten eggs, gotten his laptop spammed with virus and found mouse traps in his portfolio, he made his decision. He gathered all his belongings and left. One day, the tennis club just stood there without a coach, and when they finally found a teacher that could tell them what was going on, they got the explanation that Osamu had given notice to leave.

Of course, this resulted in chaos. Koharu and Yuuji cried in each other’s arms for the rest of the day and Kintarou chewed on his own sneakers in pure frustration. Kenya seemed to be much more pissed than usual, and Zaizen, Gin and Chitose did not say very much. You could tell that all three of them were bitter.

And you? You slammed your head into the wall till the swellings busted and your hair was dyed red with blood. Not in school of course, but at home. You were alone in the house anyway, and after giving yourself a few band aids, you blamed your own “clumsiness” that made you fall down the stairs. That was the lie you gave your family and team mates. Well, you are not part of the team any longer, per say, but they are still your buddies. When you finished you story and laughed extenuatingly at your “clumsiness”, Chitose shook his head but said nothing.

You think of this when High School starts. How you deserved to have your skull cracked against that brick wall for making Osamu’s life a living hell. Yet again and yet again you hear those words echoing inside your head – your fault. Sometimes you are mumbling them but you say “my fault” instead. The only solution in those moments are Ecstasy and the weed. And barely so. Barely, barely so… No, it is not helping at all. You sabotaged for your team mates, and even had the tennis club being cancelled in school since there was no new coach to be found. It was with heavy steps and gloomy eyes your mates went through their last school days during the later half of the term. Gloomiest of all were Zaizen and Kintarou; they are younger than you and the rest of the third years, so for them, there are years of no regular tennis practice ahead, additionally without the friends whose presence they have grown used to. So young, and they have already had their dreams denied. When you think those thoughts, you feel old. So very old.

On the whole, whenever you begin to think deeper thoughts, your ponderings form a spiral that goes down and down, and it makes you feel worse and worse until you cannot take it anymore. As time goes by, it becomes downright terrifying. Especially when you are about to fall asleep. When you calm down after a long day of stress and school work, they come lurking, those terrible thoughts. Guilt, shame, regret, filth, fear. Everything bombards your brain and hear and it is impossible to avoid them, even if you smoke for hours before going to bed. Not even the sleeping pills you stole from the school nurse’s office offer you any sleep. Day time, you are the same cool and relaxed individual you have always been, but night time, you sob in your pillow and occasionally, you spontaneously scoop up your old friends the scissors and stab your arms. Sometimes you take the legs as well. And when dawn breaks, you feel so utterly tired you do not know jack about anything.

I can’t keep this up, you finally realize. You have to find a way to stay lively.

And this is where you start to use cocaine.

At first, you did not appreciate the whole concept of getting something unfamiliar up your snook. You do know what Ecstasy and weed is; they are Ecstasy and weed. But cocaine? That white powder which rich people, like celebrities, usually get their kicks from? You have to admit that it was fairly easy to get hold of it though. A little chatting with a guy who you later on meet up in a dark alley (in broad daylight!), and here you are, in your room and with the white stuff on your desk.

You reflect over your situation for a few minutes. Should you or should you not? But you have heard that it makes depressions go poof in the blink of an eye, the druggist said so himself. And you have gotten hold of it…

Using a straw, you snort an amount about the size of a tea spoon up your nose.

Almost immediately, you feel much livelier and more spirited than you ever had. It is as you have slept for a whole week and now, fully recovered and strong, are going to visit Disneyland which you have always dreamed of ever since you were two three years old and saw a Disney movie for the first time.

Wonderful, you conclude and quickly makes it a habit to snort a line before going to school.

School. You are now in the middle of the second term in your sophomore year. You have suffered from depressions for almost two years, and you welcome the bliss of the cocaine with open arms. Fortunately, you are a skilled actor and can easily hide your secret well. Your new class mates do not seem to suspect a thing. Same goes for your old tennis pals from Junior High. Even Chitose looks unconcerned and does not mention or even hint anything about drugs whenever he is talking to you in private.

… But what you show everything and everyone is nothing but a façade. Inside, you are as scared and ashamed as you have always been. But the outside shows nothing, because, as long as you can keep a straight face, your inside will remain hidden.

Or, that is what you believe.

You do not know it, but the drugs have blinded you to the extent that you, on the day you graduate, is unable to see your bags under your eyes, or meet your own, pasty look in the mirror.

---

[Lovux The Great]

Tonight, you are at a student ball. It is held in the town’s local bowling hall. At first, you were a little sceptic about this, but once you arrived here, you realized that that this sure was glamorous enough. There is a lot of people here, as expected on a student ball; the graduating class invites their friends who in their turn invite their friends. And then there is always those who manage to get to the party anyway, uncalled for. At least eighty percent of all the people here tonight are total strangers to you.

You take another big gulp of your alco pop and keep on mingling.

Pretty soon, you make contact with a girl you have never met before. She has a wrinkled blouse and a tabbed tie. Her hair is black and entangled, and the pink stripes in it seems to be glowing by themselves in the disco lights. The make-up around her bloodshot eyes is sooty. Her white fingers are gripping a home-made cigarette. In other words, she is just as big of a dope-head as yourself. After a few minutes of conversation, you learn that she used to play soccer, but eventually got tired of always being perfect and the most admired player in the school, so she begun to steal some of her mother’s pills and smoke weed. And everything ended up this way.

“I’ve got some quality goods in mah bag”, she suddenly tells you with her husky voice. “Ya wouldn’t mind…?”

You point discreetly at your nose. It is not read because of the liquor.

“I’m already into this, so I guess I can get hooked on that as well. It doesn’t matter to me.”

The girl sends you a sensual smirk.

“I like yar style”, she comments before coughing once or twice.

She stands up from the fauteuil and makes a gesture that tells you to follow. The two of you move upstairs and lock yourself in a bathroom for disabled people with a sign that says “OUT OF USE” on the door. Nothing is going to cast light on you and your company here. She takes a small kit out of her purse and starts preparing a shot. You look around in the small space and spot a few spiders in the ceiling before she speaks to you again.

“Well, how much do ya want? I’ve prepared one for ya.”

“That’ll do.”

“But it costs.”

“How much?”

She inhales and lets out another puff of smoke from the cigarette.

“A screw.”

“That’s fair payment”, you tell her nonchalantly while unzipping your fly. She unbuttons her blouse. After half an hour, the two of you have finished it. It never occurs to you that you just lost your virginity to a complete stranger you have never seen or talked to before or even know the name of. It is too far away from your comprehension.

She excuses herself and walks out. You have already forgotten her when you take the awaiting shot and sit down on the toilet seat.

You stick the needle through your skin on the right arm, between two white scars. And you slowly press the content of the cannula inside yourself. The needles still has a few stains of someone else’s dried blood. Downstairs, you can hear the music vibrate through the walls and the floor all the way up to you. Damn, this party’s DJ HAS got to be the persona of tastelessness; whoever could get the idea of playing Evanescence on a disco?

-Wake me up inside-

You feel your muscles letting go of their places and a complete relaxation takes over your body.

-Wake me up inside-

Things are twirling around. Your mouth is dry. Your ears are throbbing and your vision is darkened.

-Call my name and save me from the dark -

All worries are gone with the wind. A warm wave of relief is crashing all over you. Everything will be fine.

-Bid my blood to run-

Nothing exists. You can hear the adrenaline that makes your blood run faster and faster. Not even the cocaine can compare to this.

-Before I come undone-

Never have you felt this good.

-Save me from the nothing I’ve become -

The sweetest damn feeling ever.

”KURANOSUKE!!”

---

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that you have an absolutely terrible headache, so strong that it feels like someone is splitting your head in two halves with a seesaw. Slowly, you open your eyes. At first, everything flickers and is dizzy, but after a few blinks, your vision clears. And the first thing you see is a white and plane surface that must be a ceiling. You let your eyes sweep over the surroundings, and when you notice the white, clean interior texture with a window with closed curtains, you conclude that you are not at home. Or somewhere else you have ever been before. You realize that you have two tubes attached to your nose, and to your arm, there is a hose that leads to a vessel with some kind of a transparent fluid in it.

“Where…?” you mumble, but you are so drowsy that your tongue and lips refuse to compute so you can finish off the sentence.

“You’re at the hospital.”

You should have become surprised, but you are too tired for getting excited. Instead, you tilt your head a little to the side to see who it was that spoke to you.

You do not believe your own eyes. “… Chitose?”

Next to the door, leaning against the wall and with his knees drawn up to the body, he sits there – Chitose Senri. He looks pretty tired himself.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks you.

Never could you have imagined that such a simple question would be so hard to answer. You think of the previous night where you drank too much, met that girl and remember how your vision darkened with the beats of Evanescence’s vocalist’s high-pitched tones. How do you summarize that?

“I… don’t know”, you eventually press out.

It feels physically tough to talk. Chitose seems to understand that and starts to explain a few things to give you a proper chance to wake up.

“I called the ambulance”, he tells you. “I became suspicious as soon as I saw you together with that girl and the two of you suddenly disappear and then the girl came back alone… Oh god.” He groans and leans his head against the elbow, whom he has resting on his knee. “I’ve never been so scared before as I was when I went to see what had become of you. I didn’t dare to think of what I was about to discover… and then I found you in that state.”

You can tell that Chitose’s voice is clogging in his throat, but he keeps going on anyway.

“The whole prom was nothing but tumult when the ambulance arrived. God, at least half of the people there thought you had passed away and pulled out flowers from the ditches and threw them at you and the ambulance drivers. But that’s understandable, since you were as good as lifeless anyway…”, he coughs here, “While I was at it, I called your family. They are in the lobby and haven’t gotten the tiniest bit of sleep for I don’t-know-how-many hours… Right, in case you might be wondering, it’s Saturday, three in the afternoon.”

You try to think back on that night, try to recall more details. You remember five spiders, that the girl had a birthmark on her neck that looked exactly like the print of a cat’s paw, and that you tossed away her wristwatch during your moment of passion. Which number were the hands pointing at… A quarter past eleven? That means you have been unconscious in more than twelve hours. Half a day. And during this time, your mom, dad, your sisters, and not to mention Chitose (and surely several others), have all stayed sleepless and thought about nothing but yourself and if you would make it or not.

That thought both cheers you up and makes you feel bad. It cheers you up that so many people in your surroundings care so much about you, but you feel bad for making them worry themselves to death.

“I told them”, Chitose suddenly says silently. “Your parents, I mean. About that night five years ago, about Osamu, your pills, your depressions… Everything.”

Chitose holds his head low as he speaks, but then he looks up and he has the most regretful expression you have ever seen.

“Forgive me!” he cries out, and you can tell that his tears are not far away. “It’s all my fault that it turned out this way! I knew from the beginning but did nothing, because… I was unsure about if you would hate me or not… or was just plain scared of the consequences themselves… and I let it go this far…!”

He looks down again, now with the arms around himself. The dark locks are falling down in front if his face like a curtain.

“I’m so sorry”, he all but whispers and wipe with his hand right beneath the eyes.

Never before have you seen Chitose cry. Who would have thought that he would look this pitiful while doing so.

I wonder if I look that pitiful when I cry, you think. A moment later, you say (and realizes that talking is a lot more easier now);

“It’s not like there is something for you to apologize for.”

You turn your head to the window and can see a small stripe of blue sky between the closed curtains. The weather must be nice.

“It’s rather my fault who started with the drugs. And it’s because of me that the tennis club as well as its trainer screwed up. I’m the one who should apologize.”

You let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, Chitose.”

Then, there is a long silence. Only one a tiny, regular blipping from a machine that is attached to the tubes that leads to your nose can be heard. And so, Chitose rises on his legs.

“Perhaps it’s not anyone’s fault that things got messed up”, he says while walking past your bed and to the window.

He draws the curtains apart and lets the beaming sunlight flow into the room and over your face.

“But that don’t matter when it’s such a lovely weather outside. Sunny and hot”, he states.

Then he opens the window and does not mind the plastic flower on the sill that falls out and down to the street many floors beneath you.

“And the air is fresh and wonderful. You love the fresh air, don’t you?”

He takes a long, deep breath. You smile and get that this is a moment Chitose has been waiting for for hours – to draw a relieved sigh over the fact that you actually did not die. You inhale the fresh air as well. You have barely done that before you instantly feel much better, both mentally and physically.

“What are you gonna do this summer, Chitose?” you ask him.

“Me?” he replies, still leaning against the sill and letting his eyes wander across the sky. “Well, work on my tan, swim, go hiking in the mountains. The usual stuff. My family and I might do a little trip to Europe and watch old houses that are on their way of falling apart. But it’s not decided yet.”

An air flight moves across the sky, leaving a white track behind itself. Chitose follows the flight with his eyes.

“And what about you? What are you gonna do?” he says a little dreamily. Perhaps he is thinking of the travel he maybe will do in a few months.

“I…”, you begin, but words escape you. “I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it. I guess I’ll have to improvise.”

“Sounds good to me.”

You hum an affirmative reply. Once again, there is silence in the room. Outside, birds are singing. You close your eyes and listen to them. Never before have you heard something this beautiful. You hardly ever gave yourself time to enjoy something as simple as the birds’ chirping, but now, when laying still and actually listening, you don’t see how you managed to miss something as wonderful as this. Then you realize something.

“You know…” you start slowly.

Chitose casts an eye over his shoulder.

“Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

The dark-haired youth laughs – he does have a lovely laughter, you notice – and turns around. He smiles widely.

“You’re welcome.”

The two of you look at each other for a good while. It does not feel troublesome or unusual. Only safe and natural. Eventually, Chitose clears his throat and walks towards the door.

“Well, then I guess it’s time for me to go and get scolded by the doctors.” He laughs at your surprised face and goes on; “I’m not allowed to be here. I mean, even your family has to wait in the lobby and stare into space. But I felt that I had to make sure that you were alive… and I wanted to have a couple of things over and done with as soon as possible, so I sneaked in here when no one saw me.”

He opens the door.

“I’m gonna tell your parents and your sisters that you’ve woke up. I suggest that you prepare yourself to be glomped to death.”

“Why, thanks for the warning”, you smirk cunningly.

Chitose smiles again and take a few steps forward but halts in the doorway to look over his shoulder one last time.

“Get better soon, Kuranosuke.”

“I will… Senri.”

Then he goes and leaves the door open. Your heart is filled with warmth and hopes for the future.

---

The fine rain is falling, despite the shining sun and the blue sky can be seen through a couple of silver clouds. It falls carefully and whispering, making it sound like everything from the smallest bush to the biggest tree is rustling secretively. On a tree branch, a squirrel is cautiously observing what happens around itself.

You do not care if you get wet in the process, but close your eyes in the rain and choose to revel. Revel in the fact that you are free, clean and well.

The rehabilitation was a tough-as-nails and reluctant period. On several occasions, you fell back in the hand of the drugs, despite the doctor’s certificate. Some nights you escaped through your window, covered by darkness and had the staff find you lifeless on floor in the morning. But now, right here, right now, you know that you have won the battle. It took five years of hard work and tears. But you are finally free.

You know that you will never be able to drink alcohol again without becoming an addict, and that you for the same reason have to be cautious with chemicals and other things that smell funny and strongly. But you are finally clean.

Your promising tennis career has since long ago been shattered to pieces. Your sense of coordination and your reflexes are nowhere near where they once have been. But you are finally well.

Your team mates eventually found out that you was the one behind Osamu’s notice to quit, which both shocked and made them upset. But they have forgiven you. And you have personally apologized to them, one at a time. You even begged Osamu himself to show up at the clinic, so you could ask for his pardon man to man. He forgave you.

For the first time in ages, you feel pleased – yes, even proud – of yourself. You are not blaming yourself for anything any longer. The red and white scars on your limbs will always be a reminder of when you thought of the opposite, but it does not matter.

You feel good again.

“Kuranosuke, do you really have time to sleep out there in the rain? Hurry up, or the train will leave before we get to the station!”

“Yeah, yeah, Senri!” you shout back and open your eyes again.

A few ten metres ahead of you, your friends have stopped in their tracks, all of them carrying umbrellas and large packing bags, and looking over their shoulders. They did not expect you to suddenly stop and just stand there with your eyes shut like a moron.

“Don’ stress him”, a man’s slack voice says. “The mountains won’t walk away if we miss a train or two.”

You smile and start walking to catch up with them. Somewhere at the horizon, a rainbow is slowly appearing.

Osamu. Kintarou. Kenya. Yuuji. Gin. Zaizen. Koharu. Senri. I’m really looking forward to live again.

Your name is Shiraishi Kuranosuke and you are twenty three years old.

You have finally begun to walk on the right path of life again.

--- THE END ---

Yeah, that’s it. Did you like it? Or not? If there was something that annoyed you or think I could’ve done better (except for the grammar), please tell me so.

Oh, and because I KNOW you’ll bring it up… You might be wondering “Hey, where is the yaoi?”. And I say “Not here”.
Look, I know that it’s as good as compulsory to write in at least some BL in a Prince of Tennis fanfiction. But this story did not call for that; it doesn’t focus on romance, but rather on a person’s mental trauma and problems that has nothing to do with feelings for someone of his own gender. That is why I let this fanfiction be without any official pairings, because I didn’t think it was necessary to complete the story. It’s fine on it’s own, without crazily hot bishie smexxorz.
And really – I think the scenes with Chitose and Shiraishi were enough to get the minds of plenty of yaoi fangirls going. It certainly did for me. I purposely left those scenes open for your own interpretation; if you want Shiraishi and Chitose to be just good friends in this story, that’s fine. But if you want them to be romantically interested in each other, that’s fine too. You choose.

That’s all from Lovux, and she hopes that you enjoyed her fanfiction!

[sphere]

This is amazing Lovux-seme! The ending was wonderful!

[Lovux The Great]

SPHERE-CHAN.

Somebody actually read and reviewd my fanfiction. Lovux is SO HAPPY now. Really, really, really happy. She feels all tingly and sparkly.

Thanks!

[sphere]

no problem Lovux-seme! It was a nice read ^^

[shiraoi]

As I promised, I've read the whole story and now I'm going to comment.

I must say that Shitenhouji is The Happy Team for me, so reading such a serious story was a new thing, but I'm not saying that I didn't enjoy it.

Some things were confusing, for example the second person POV and present tense, but on the other hand, it was important in mood building, so I can't say that it was bad, rather not something I'm used to. It also confused me a little when Shiraishi took ecstasy before breakfast, if he told his mother he'll be there in a second, she might have noticed that he has taken something and if he hadn't gone down, his mother would probably check what happened? But since ecstasy's effects differ from person to person, that was okay.

I liked the way it was written, showing Shiraishi I haven't thought of before (not that I haven't thought of him taking MDMA, I just haven't thought of him becoming an addict like this). You managed to present Shiraishi's way from a perfect captain to a boy with serious problems in a way that I could imagine every scene (and makes me want to get a pencil and sketch some, but my chibis so wouldn't fit the mood) I'm happy I've read your fic.. About grammar, I'm not a native and make many mistakes myself, but nothing really hurt my eyes (and I do notice when it's really bad English)

[Lovux The Great]

OMG, thank you so much for giving such a long and thoughtful review! THAT was EXACTLY what Lovux needed and wanted!

I'm glad it gave you a new perspective of looking upon Shiraishi and that you liked my different style of writing (the second POV), because, as you said, the style was necessary for the mood building. I don't think it would've been such a "strong" story with a third POV that just stated "And then Shiraishi was depressed and cut his arms". I think the second POV brings the reader closer to the written text, at least when it comes to dramatic, tragic stories like this (but it had a happy ending, thankfully! Lovux loves happy endings... ), but I wasn't sure about if other people share this opinion, so I think that writing was a little of a gambling for me. But as I said, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

About that thing you wrote about Shira's mom... well, you know how teens are. They tell you that they "will be right there", and they doesn't turn up untill, like half an hour later. Perhaps his mom was used to things like that and just thought "Well, he's a tired, lazy teen". And as you said, the effects of Ecstasy are different to different people. Glad you could overlook that minor error...

Thanks again, shirarin. (that's Lovux's new nickname for you)

P.S: And FFS, draw if you have the inspiration! Chibis or not, Lovux has always dreamt of seeing fanarts based on her own stories or characters or w/e.

[shiraoi]

That's what I meant, I might not be used to second person POV but you've done a great job with this <3

Shirarin sounds cute (and my DS is named Kurarin XD) Well, I just thought that if I wanted to sketch something from your fics, chibis won't fit the mood

[Mashou no Tenshi]

I can only say this: You made me feel and love a character I havent given much tought to. I guess I am trying to give you a complement in here. You just made it real, you know, the whole problem..

I loved how the ending and begining are inverse, pretty much like to sides of a coin. And the-just-right-amount-of-bittersweet ending really got me.

Lovely