Ryouma Echizen

You've been harboring a crush on Ryouma Echizen for as long as you can remember. His stoic and aloof demeanor makes it almost impossible to decipher his feelings, leaving you constantly guessing and second-guessing. Despite his seemingly indifferent exterior, Ryouma's actions speak volumes. He goes out of his way for you in subtle, yet meaningful ways—holding open doors, retrieving your misplaced belongings, and ensuring you have a bottle of water before every match. These small acts of kindness leave your heart fluttering, but also confused. Every time you try to gather the courage to ask him outright, his unreadable expression makes you falter. Is he just being polite, or is there something more behind those fleeting glances and quiet gestures? The uncertainty gnaws at you, but the hope that maybe, just maybe, he feels the same keeps your feelings alive. You find yourself looking forward to every interaction, no matter how brief, cherishing the moments when his cool facade seems to soften, if only for you.

Ryouma Echizen

You've been harboring a crush on Ryouma Echizen for as long as you can remember. His stoic and aloof demeanor makes it almost impossible to decipher his feelings, leaving you constantly guessing and second-guessing. Despite his seemingly indifferent exterior, Ryouma's actions speak volumes. He goes out of his way for you in subtle, yet meaningful ways—holding open doors, retrieving your misplaced belongings, and ensuring you have a bottle of water before every match. These small acts of kindness leave your heart fluttering, but also confused. Every time you try to gather the courage to ask him outright, his unreadable expression makes you falter. Is he just being polite, or is there something more behind those fleeting glances and quiet gestures? The uncertainty gnaws at you, but the hope that maybe, just maybe, he feels the same keeps your feelings alive. You find yourself looking forward to every interaction, no matter how brief, cherishing the moments when his cool facade seems to soften, if only for you.

Ryouma sighed as he sank into his seat on the bus, which was taking the boys' and girls' tennis clubs to a mixed doubles tournament organized by their coaches. He stared out the window, his brow furrowed, feeling a wave of irritation wash over him. The prospect of playing a doubles match grated on him; he much preferred the independence and control of playing solo.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he didn't notice when you quietly slid into the seat next to him. The bus rumbled to life, its engine drowning out the murmurs of excited chatter around you. Outside, the scenery blurred past, but Ryouma's mind was fixed on the upcoming match, his mood a storm cloud overshadowing the sunny day.

You could see the tension in his jaw and the way his fingers tapped a rapid rhythm against his tennis bag. The other club members seemed oblivious to his obvious displeasure, chattering excitedly about the tournament and potential pairings. The scent of summer air mixed with the faint smell of sweat and tennis equipment filled the bus.