This is more hinted/pre-ship rather than directly Ryoma/Kaidoh but I hope that you like it anyway! My writing style doesn't really match your preferences, sorry. ^^;;;
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The steady thwack of a ball bouncing off the wall led Kaidoh to Ryoma, as sure as a map. The courts at the school were closed, thanks to flooding (Kaidoh wasn’t sure how, but he knew it was Inui’s fault) and the members of the tennis team had taken to playing on the street courts instead.
The lighting wasn’t as good; at school, the lights blazed brightly enough to make it seem like noon at all hours. Here, the street lights cast a more subdued golden glow while overhead, the stars shone steadily down on Ryoma. Every line of his body was picked out in gold, the fine hairs on his arms gleaming and the sweat-slicked strands of hair sheened wetly where they stuck to his neck.
He was breathing fast, shirt swinging loosely around his middle so that air sieved through the fabric and hit his flushed skin. From the high color on his cheeks and the dampness of sweat on his skin, Kaidoh guessed that Ryoma had been practicing for a good five hours.
He glanced at the town hall clock – just past 10PM – and then back at Ryoma. 5 sounded right. It meant he would’ve arrived here as soon as school finished and then kept a court for his own use by ruthlessly beating anyone that challenged him.
Brat.
Kaidoh approached Ryoma slowly, sneakers soundless against the clay court. Ryoma’s breathing was too fast for Kaidoh to mirror it so he slowed his breaths instead. It was the same way he approached lost animals, slow and steady, waiting for any sign he needed to stop.
“Want a match, Kaidoh-senpai?” Ryoma asked without looking back. It was something Kaidoh had noticed before; on a tennis court, Ryoma was all but omniscient, hyper-aware of every other player and every ball.
Kaidoh’s lips formed a pout, tongue touching his upper teeth as he hissed.
“No,” he said. “I’m supposed to tell you to turn your phone on. We’re having a practice match tomorrow against Fudomine and nobody could reach you to tell you.”
Ryoma caught the ball instead of hitting it, balancing it on the racket’s sweet spot and starting to bounce it on the racket itself.
“Ran out of battery,” he said, then gave the ball a particularly high bounce. His next swing sent it back against the wall, Ryoma returning to a familiar, soothing pattern. If Kaidoh closed his eyes, it almost sounded like his heartbeat.
“No. You turned it off,” Kaidoh’s words were enough to make Ryoma glance back at him. The cap shadowed his eyes, hiding them from sight, but the lamp light gilded the curves of his mouth with gold when he smirked.
“How do you know that?” Starlight spilled down Ryoma’s throat when he swallowed, the next easy backhand of the ball so effortless that envy half-choked Kaidoh for a moment.
“Because I do it too.”
Prodigy or not, Ryoma Echizen was still a teenager.
no subject
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The steady thwack of a ball bouncing off the wall led Kaidoh to Ryoma, as sure as a map. The courts at the school were closed, thanks to flooding (Kaidoh wasn’t sure how, but he knew it was Inui’s fault) and the members of the tennis team had taken to playing on the street courts instead.
The lighting wasn’t as good; at school, the lights blazed brightly enough to make it seem like noon at all hours. Here, the street lights cast a more subdued golden glow while overhead, the stars shone steadily down on Ryoma. Every line of his body was picked out in gold, the fine hairs on his arms gleaming and the sweat-slicked strands of hair sheened wetly where they stuck to his neck.
He was breathing fast, shirt swinging loosely around his middle so that air sieved through the fabric and hit his flushed skin. From the high color on his cheeks and the dampness of sweat on his skin, Kaidoh guessed that Ryoma had been practicing for a good five hours.
He glanced at the town hall clock – just past 10PM – and then back at Ryoma. 5 sounded right. It meant he would’ve arrived here as soon as school finished and then kept a court for his own use by ruthlessly beating anyone that challenged him.
Brat.
Kaidoh approached Ryoma slowly, sneakers soundless against the clay court. Ryoma’s breathing was too fast for Kaidoh to mirror it so he slowed his breaths instead. It was the same way he approached lost animals, slow and steady, waiting for any sign he needed to stop.
“Want a match, Kaidoh-senpai?” Ryoma asked without looking back. It was something Kaidoh had noticed before; on a tennis court, Ryoma was all but omniscient, hyper-aware of every other player and every ball.
Kaidoh’s lips formed a pout, tongue touching his upper teeth as he hissed.
“No,” he said. “I’m supposed to tell you to turn your phone on. We’re having a practice match tomorrow against Fudomine and nobody could reach you to tell you.”
Ryoma caught the ball instead of hitting it, balancing it on the racket’s sweet spot and starting to bounce it on the racket itself.
“Ran out of battery,” he said, then gave the ball a particularly high bounce. His next swing sent it back against the wall, Ryoma returning to a familiar, soothing pattern. If Kaidoh closed his eyes, it almost sounded like his heartbeat.
“No. You turned it off,” Kaidoh’s words were enough to make Ryoma glance back at him. The cap shadowed his eyes, hiding them from sight, but the lamp light gilded the curves of his mouth with gold when he smirked.
“How do you know that?” Starlight spilled down Ryoma’s throat when he swallowed, the next easy backhand of the ball so effortless that envy half-choked Kaidoh for a moment.
“Because I do it too.”
Prodigy or not, Ryoma Echizen was still a teenager.