Author's Note:
The scene of the crime is none other than Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku Koukou, which the Author imagines to be the 'grown-up' section of the Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku Chuugakkou that we all have come to know and adore (and on that note: am I completely off the mark here? Someone, please tell me. I'm actually rather curious), at the start of the Big Three & Co.'s second year of high school tennis. Almighty as ever, they have made it their business to take the tennis circuit by storm, successfully edging out the cut-throat competition made up of familiar faces and team uniforms; all while Tezuka Kunimitsu and Echizen Ryoma, whose presences continue to loom in the shadows and on everyone's minds, set out to conquer the known world, one continent at the time.
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A few things worthy of mention:
(But not so important that you can't just ignore 'em and dive straight into the story.)
One, this story was originally posted as a monster of a one-shot. Okay, so maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but it is pretty long, so you might want to get yourself a cup of tea and a biscuit (or two) before sinking your teeth into it for real. The Author, who eventually realized that the experience might be just a tad overwhelming, apologizes profusely and belatedly for the inconvenience caused to the unlucky few forced to plough through the whole thing in one sitting – and has since endeavoured to savagely cut it into more easily digestible, bite-sized chapters.
Two, you are about to examine the wonder that is Rikkai Dai tennis through multiple pairs of eyes, sometimes simultaneously. Try not to get too confused.
Three, those special character traits and endearing little quirks of just about everyone are intentionally overplayed, and certainly borderline stereotypical. But, please, try to understand: I couldn't help myself. I got carried away; I simply had too much fun dreaming the stuff up!
Four, while Yukimura and Yanagi are perfectly happy to use their given names among themselves, Sanada just... doesn't. This, ladies and gentlemen, is not out of any authorial spite or character hate; it has no significance or deeper meaning, nor is it not even vaguely symbolic of anything. It's simply due to the fact that the Author has yet to read (or hear) Sanada Genichirou address Yukimura Seiichi as anything other than plain 'Yukimura', and even the vice versa has only happened once thus far: in Genius 300. (Go on, take a closer look if you don't believe me. I dare you, puri~.) It is curious, though, how neither Sanada nor Yukimura seems at all adverse to the idea of Yanagi Renji being 'Renji', but that probably says more about The Master's personality than it does about theirs, wouldn't you agree? (Perhaps I should add that I couldn't for the life of me imagine Rikkai's Emperor yell out "Seiichiiii!" in the totally-weird-but-at-the-same-time-100%-genuinely-devoted manner that his chibi!me belts out "Yukimuraaaa!". Normally, manga!canon is undisputedly King for this Author, but those deliciously cracktastic TeniPuri episodes of the anime have damaged my perception of Sanada's character for life, I swear.)
Five, the Author is taking a leaf out of Konomi-sensei's fifty (billion) or so volumes of manga by letting time flow sideways rather than linearly.
Six, no matter what he does, where he goes, or how old he gets, Kirihara Akaya will always be The Troublesome Brat With A Big Mouth Who They All Secretly Care A Great Deal For, and even Sanada knows it. It just so happens that Akaya knows it too.
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Disclaimer:
Sadly, I cannot take credit for anything. Though, I do think that I might have coined the term 'Seiichish'.
Seiichi, Stop Pacing
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"Seiichi, stop pacing," he sighed for the third time since arriving at the tennis courts approximately three minutes and forty-one seconds ago. "It's a nuisance," he added, almost as an afterthought and without any real disapproval.
Yanagi Renji was analytical, yes, but never heartless, and his intentions were not to scold his long-time friend and teammate. Especially not when taking into consideration the aforementioned long-time friend and teammate's rather blatant state of mental distress.
'Oh Seiichi,' thought the data specialist fondly to himself as the blue-haired teen immediately stopped dead in his tracks. 'You do so well to hide it, but sometimes even you are more reflective than a mirror.'
Indeed, while the fearsome Child of God was a tennis phenomenon and most certainly the prodigy of their generation (which in and of itself spoke a great deal for the extent of his abilities, taking into account that he had people like Seigaku's Fuji, Hyoutei's Oshitari and not to mention the specimen from Rikkai's own talent pool to contend with for that title), there were times when even the seemingly impenetrable Yukimura Seiichi was almost too absurdly easy to read. Outside any tennis court, that was, because once on it, the normally kind and soft-spoken boy transformed into something utterly incomprehensible that rendered even Yanagi's impressive grasp of Seiichish absolutely useless.
But given that they were, in fact, standing on the grassy field overlooking the tidy rows of outdoor courts, Yanagi figured that anything was fair game. After all, it had taken him years, which all in all added up to not a insignificant amount of time and effort even for an analyst of The Master's calibre, to reach a modest level of familiarity with Yukimura's various quirks and some rather strange habits, and the data specialist suspected that he still had a long, long way to go before The Child of God could finally be declared a closed case. And this was assuming that such a thing was even possible: Seiichi seemed to take an almost unholy delight in continuously defying his own data, and subsequently a number of Yanagi's predictions, on a near-daily basis.
Though that said, at the present moment, the person in question was looking far from delighted.
"I'm not pacing, Renji."
In an effort that traced back to hours upon hours of image training, Yukimura managed the rather enviable feat of maintaining a believable smile – if, perhaps, tinged with just a hint of annoyance – but his objection, meant as an indignant protest, sounded more pitiful than anything else even to his own two ears, because there really was no use denying that The Master's observations were no less bull's-eye perfect than they usually were. Yukimura was pacing and had been doing so for almost twenty minutes already – long before the first group of tentative freshmen had started to mill out on his tennis courts and long before Yanagi had finally joined him – not that the data specialist needed to be informed about it to know. So it was silly, really, to pretend that he wasn't being defiant and contrary just for the sake of being defiant and contrary; not when he was quite certain that the abnormally shrewd person to his right would have anticipated this exact reaction from the very start.
The Child of God almost wished that he could sigh out loud and not just in the safety of his own mind.
Of course, it went without saying that Yanagi – along with Sanada, but that was a given – was one of his closest and most trusted friends, and there certainly were many comforts and obvious advantages attached to forming such intimate alliances. One such 'perk' being that it made possible the kind of insight (the haughty drawl of Hyoutei's flamboyant captain somehow drifted into mind, though this was mercifully brief and entirely unintentional) that made communication quicker, easier and far less time-consuming than it otherwise might have been. But even so, it was very much a double-edged sword, since it also went without saying that such a mutual (and for that very reason also completely privacy-invading) understanding at any of those rare moments of misfortune and embarrassment that one might rather have kept to oneself, and only to oneself, could be bloody annoying.
Now was such a moment, and it didn't exactly help the proceedings along that Yukimura knew with abundant certainty that Yanagi Renji knew that as well.
"I'm not pacing," he repeated, standing demonstratively still, if only for the heck of it. "In fact, I'm warming up."
Yanagi's carefully arranged facial features gave way for a small smirk. The Child of God was not normally this easy to bait for a reaction. "What for, if I may ask?"
Yukimura raised a delicate eyebrow. Renji had certainly chosen an interesting time to engage in a cat-and-mouse game of skirting-around-the-real-issue, but then he supposed that he was just as bored and waiting with just as much anticipation as Yukimura was himself. And perhaps it was only to be expected from The Master of Data Tennis that he would do a far superior job at hiding it.
'It must be the eyes,' thought The Child of God with just a little bit of envy.
(Yes. It was definitely the eyes.)
"We're at the tennis courts," he said out loud, pleasantly as always but much too innocently to be completely sincere. After all, that Yanagi was a meticulous fellow and a cunning strategist, and Yukimura wasn't so naive that he didn't understand that he was being herded into some sort of figurative corner. But not knowing what kind of trap he was willingly walking himself into made things more interesting, never mind challenging, and Yukimura had always quite enjoyed a challenge. "So I would have thought that warming up is self-explanatory, is it not?"
"Usually, yes, but today are the tryouts, Seiichi." Yanagi's smirk grew a little wider. Check mate and match point. For now, at least. "Practise has been suspended."
Yukimura shrugged, wisely choosing not to dispute this point, because normal club activities had indeed been cancelled for the afternoon, as all returning club members (team regulars and seniors included) were expected to help with the freshmen registration process and oversee the selection matches. This was a system that had been completely foreign to most of them (Renji not included) when they entered Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku Koukou the previous year. Back in junior high, eager wannabe members had simply registered to join and had then been assigned various court duties and practise schedules depending on age and, to a certain extent, ability. The all-important ranking matches to establish the in-house pecking order had been reserved for second- and third-year members only – though this particular rule allowed for exceptions, provided that the exceptions were exceptionally extraordinary, and Yukimura would know – and these were usually held a few weeks into the tournament season in an attempt to give everyone an equal chance at settling in properly first.
In the high school section, on the other hand, just joining the team was a two-day trial (for the few who were talented enough to survive the first day of qualifying matches, otherwise just the one) and in accordance to time-honoured tradition the predated even Takahashi-sensei, the elderly club advisor Yukimura had inherited from at least thirty-five captains before him, tryouts were scheduled on the last two days of the first week of school. Then, in a similarly rigid fashion, registration was supposed to begin at exactly three-thirty on the first day and end at four o'clock on the do – and not a heartbeat later. But courtesy of a more forgiving captain whose name was buried deeply within the tennis club's proud history somewhere, the closed and firmly regulated system contained one additional, unexpectedly nice principle: one that prescribed a so-called 'grace period', which in effect was a five minute extension of the deadline for the freshers to properly fill in their registration forms with the necessary information, hand them in to an upperclassman to sign and then scramble off to the school courts for the actual tryouts. This principle had never been formally adopted by the tennis club, but it served de facto as a neat little addendum to the official policies, and as such it was observed anyway.
But it was reassuring – and true to the undying Rikkai Dai spirit – that once the initial paperwork was out of the way, that same 'softie' captain seemed to have had no qualms whatsoever about pitting the newest members against each other in order to determine who (if anyone at all) could be called back the following day for the most important ranking tournament of the year. The Child of God had been told by his predecessor that this in particular was a practise that stood above even tradition, and which had remained virtually unchanged since the dawn of tennis at Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku Koukou, in a not-so subtle warning to the freshman captain to heed his words – and keep it that way. But senpai really needn't to have worried; while there was no denying that this way of immediately settling things was many times harsher than even The Big Three had been used to at that point, deciding on the first-stringers so soon meant that the right team dynamics could be encouraged from the word go.
"...so it is," condescended Yukimura to agree, finally and reluctantly, when he could think of no wittier response. Very well, he would admit defeat this time around, but only because there were more pressing matters at hand than the casual banter between friends. "Time, Renji?" he demanded in his buchou-voice, which immediately expelled all feelings of playfulness from the conversation.
The taller of the two acknowledged the sudden change of pace with an obedient flick of his wrist. "Four minutes and seven seconds," reported Yanagi solemnly, his visage now appropriately neutral. "But then there is the grace period, which gives him another five minutes."
The Master turned to his friend, reasonably justified in expecting some sort of intelligent response. But four seconds passed, then a few more, and when no such thing seemed forthcoming, he added, "That makes approximately nine minutes in total. There is still time."
But Yukimura remained curiously quiet, and from of the corner of his eye, which Yanagi was forced to crack open by just a little, he watched The Child of God's sharp gaze sweep over the tennis courts, impassively taking in the sight of the growing crowd in front of them. It was rather pitiful, Yanagi supposed, just how stupidly they were being gawked at by 98% of the assembled hopefuls, but he couldn't really blame them for being somewhat star-struck. After all, Yukimura Seiichi and Yanagi Renji may have been regarded by the school's hardworking teaching staff as two fairly ordinary, if academically bright members of a vast student population, but to just about everyone else they were already legendary and the mains of so many tales of on-court heroics that nobody had dared to question Yukimura's immediate elevation to team captain at the start of the previous year. So the freshmen boys may have been excused for assuming that the smaller – but nevertheless godlier – of Rikkai Dai's celebrated Demons was far away in his own thoughts.
But The Master, who knew better than most not to judge The Child of God on appearances alone, was certain that rather than daydreaming, Yukimura was in fact casting his judgement on the proceedings thus far. And if the slight frown of displeasure slowly forming over his extraordinarily pretty features (Yanagi sometimes wondered what it felt like to be 83% better-looking than any of the girls he was ever likely to meet; though he had resigned himself to the fact that he was unlikely to find out anytime soon, because unlike some people, Yanagi was not quite so thrill-seeking, stupid or suicidal as to actually ask) was anything to go by, it would seem that said judgement was severe indeed.
"He should have been here already," muttered Yukimura under his breath, decidedly dissatisfied. It couldn't possibly be worry or a bad case of nerves that was making him a bit jumpy today; what, he – The Child of God – anxious? Hah, that would be the day! But he was feeling unusually agitated and for no good reason at all, and he'd be damned if that Yanagi Renji with his unfair advantage of friendly insight and razor-sharp intellect hadn't picked up on that already, too!
Still, he refused to give in to his brewing annoyance and let it show; to the mass of boys looking at him from the other side of the chain link fence, he was Yukimura Seiichi, widely considered the most exciting of the up-and-coming young talent to have appeared on the Japanese tennis scene in years (all things and narrowly beat-out rivals considered), captain of the most influential high school tennis team in the country, Rikkai Dai's resident demigod of demonic proportions, the paragon of a nameless terror of the most terrifying kind, the source of mythical power, the stuff of legends and so on and so forth... Honestly, sometimes Yukimura just wanted to roll his eyes at it all. While the attention was flattering and not entirely unwanted – yes, he admitted quite freely to housing a decent-sized ego of his own, anything else would be strange and rather inhuman. But The Child of God was no fool and went about feeding his as quietly as he could, as opposed to Tokyo-based colleague Atobe who still travelled with his own personal cheering squad – he would much prefer to get on with more interesting things in life. Things that were important, that truly mattered; things like family and friends, art, gardening and playing some actual tennis.
In any case, and his personal preferences aside, he was well aware of the importance of (and the great power in) maintaining appearances and upholding stellar reputations. Had he and Yanagi been alone, however, Yukimura would surely have given in to temptation and kicked the round pebble by his feet (and then watching it skid across the well-kept lawns around the tennis courts with a sense of accomplishment and great satisfaction) a long, long time ago. But now, as it happened, they weren't alone and the mildly agitated Child of God resorted to simply picking up the offending piece of smooth rock, weighing it in his hand momentarily before slipping it into the right-hand pocket of his yellow trousers. After all, wasn't there a saying: out of sight, out of mind?
"...the half hour for registration is almost up. What do we know?" continued Yukimura quietly to give himself some much-needed time to recollect his thoughts. And he briefly diverted his attention to his precious patch of asphalted turf, regarding it with much love and affection. To be able to call it 'his' was a considerable honour; it wasn't as much a right as it was a privilege that had been passed down from one captain to another over generations before him, and even though the tennis courts at Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku Koukou had borne witness to innumerable accounts of glory and heartbreak over the years, Yukimura was determined to burden them with yet some more history of his own before their time here was up – and where the former (glory) was much preferred over disappointment.
"It's difficult to say," the Master admitted none too happily. "I don't have any fresh data on this particular subject."
Yukimura spared him a quick glance full of query, and Yanagi couldn't help but to succumb to a momentary grimace of annoyance. Indeed, any data specialist worth the pages of his notebook would agree that not possessing perfectly up-to-date observations was a personal failure well on par with the disgrace of being duped into collecting intelligence that was either inaccurate or completely worthless – at which a particularly unsettling instance involving their own Yagyuu, Seigaku's Kaidoh, the ABC Tournament and a most unorthodox Switch instantly came to mind. Of course, Yanagi felt absolutely no sympathy whatsoever for the fools that made up the supposed 'data gathering' team from Murigaoka; not only had they dared to insult the then-ill Yukimura and affront Rikkai Dai as a whole, but the sloppy execution and blinding incompetence stabbed at his professional pride. So for someone of Yanagi Renji's renowned mental faculties and might, admitting to such a serious shortcoming was too shameful for words; especially when he, while not exactly inventing the discipline per se, could at the very least lay legitimate claim to having perfected it.
"I can only base my analysis on extrapolation and best-fit approximations, but there is a 96% chance that the reason for the delay is in some way academic." Yanagi paused, running through a few more calculations before considering it sufficiently plausible to marginally amend his answer, "Quite possibly attitude and/or behaviourally related."
Yukimura nodded to indicate that he understood, and to confirm that he would accept Yanagi's estimate for now. "What about the other 4%, then?" he inquired impatiently. "What can we attribute them to?"
And as expected, Yanagi's reply was instant.
"Niou."
The Master had anticipated this exact question all along, because he knew better than to think that The Child of God would be satisfied unless all the unknowns, regardless of how small and seemingly insignificant, had been fully accounted for. In Yanagi's humble (but by 66% admittedly biased) opinion, it was that near-obsessive reverence of precision that elevated Yukimura Seiichi high above the heads of his many rivals, including Hyoutei's Atobe, Shitenhouji's Shiraishi and the nowadays mostly absent Tezuka Kunimitsu (whose claim to such monstrous fame was, also in Yanagi's humble opinion, overplayed by as much as 46.8%. Approached rationally, objectively and without the automatic adulation that in certain circles tended to attach itself to the mere mention of the Tezuka name, it quickly became apparent that the former Seigakuian captain's was a record far from stellar: among his documented losses, official and otherwise, were defeats to long-time rival Atobe, teammates Fuji and Echizen and to Rikkai Dai's very own captain and vice-captain, respectively. His victory against Shitenhouji's Chitose had been impressive enough, however, and that was a match that had taken place almost two whole years ago. Admittedly, Yanagi hadn't been following Tezuka's campaigns in Europe very closely, so perhaps it wouldn't hurt to update his data, just in case. Sadaharu was sure to possess all the necessary facts and more, and they were due for their monthly get-together anyway).
So Niou, eh... Yukimura needed only a split-second to accept Yanagi's claim as the truth. Well, that sounded about right.
Truly, Yanagi's findings were hardly anything out of the ordinary, but – Yukimura narrowed his eyes at the mere thought – if that Niou Masaharu did anything to jeopardize these particular tennis tryouts, there would be hell to pay. He was normally fairly lenient with Niou and his creative schemes (for one, his expertise in trickery and deception bordered on artistry, and deserved to be admired in its own right, but Yukimura also rather enjoyed watching the chaos unfold, much to Sanada's chagrin. Even though The Master claimed that Niou's targets were selected at random, hence dividing any victimization surprisingly evenly among all the regulars with the obvious exception of Yukimura, Sanada tended to feature quite heavily in The Trickster's more elaborate designs. Yukimura usually stepped in before the fun got out of hand completely, but he would probably act quicker, and more often, if it hadn't turned out that Sanada had the most amusing reactions to unexpected things), but it really went without saying that if even one of his regulars was affected in any such way that it inconvenienced Tennis, Yukimura would show no mercy.
The Head Demon and The Trickster of the Courts reached that neat little understanding shortly after Niou showed up at the tennis club back in junior high. Freshmen and regulars alike had lived in fear as Niou gleefully sized up first then-captain Moriyama-senpai – who had initially put up a decent fight but eventually folded like a bad hand – and later Yukimura's powers to terrify. Unfazed by the exponential rise in the amount of mischief around him, Yukimura had gone about his everyday business as usual, calmly calling Niou's bluffs as he went along, until about a month into the season when Niou was finally forced to give up on his fellow first-year as a lost cause; and grudgingly agreed to negotiate the terms of his surrender.
So far, it had been a fruitful arrangement for everyone involved: it allowed Niou (whose mind, Yukimura had been unsurprised to discover, fell nothing short of brilliant once he applied it to something constructive) his own brand of fun to alleviate whatever boredom that led him to continuously devise and execute one ingenious plan after another in the first place, while it guaranteed that the members of the regular squad were fit to play tennis at an adequate Rikkai Dai-standard. And Yukimura was confident that it would last for a long time yet. In any case, if all else failed, a reliable source (Yanagi) had confirmed that it was way scarier (by as much as 237% to be exact) to answer to a moderately irritated Yukimura than a furious Sanada; fear was as effective an insurance policy as any, and it could be very useful when applied carefully and sensibly.
But The Child of God's self-satisfied (okay, fine, smug) musings came to an abrupt end when a thoughtful Yanagi added with noticeable reluctance, "Well, yes. Or it could possibly be due to an accident, sudden illness, or death."
"...death?" the second-year repeated sharply, sounding more worried than he should. "Renji, what on earth are you talking about?"
Observing Yukimura's obvious discomfort at the idea of anything untoward (that wasn't orchestrated by Niou, he noted), Yanagi decided that an explanation was in order. "The problem lies with our Trickster," The Master began to clarify, "and the fact that he's such a considerable variable all in himself that there is no way to establish exactly how much of the remaining 4% should be attributed to his doing. And with accidents, illnesses, and death as plausible unknowns in 99% of all known cases of this kind, it is possible that Niou in fact bears only a maximum of 3.2% of any possible blame. But with only partial data at my disposal, to actually verify this is next to impossible for me at this point."
Yanagi very nearly hung his head in shame. He changed his mind at the last second, remembering that they were in public and that it would reflect poorly on the tennis club if he did, especially with so many pairs of eyes pinned adoringly at his person. Still, he felt that he ought to at least apologize for the inconclusiveness, and so he did.
"I'm... sorry, Seiichi," he said, careful to avoid any eye-contact, "for not being more specific than this."
Yukimura felt certain that had Renji's eyes been visible to the world, they would most likely have been filled with regret – or at least looked deeply troubled. He was well aware of the immense pride that Yanagi took in his uncanny ability to instantly conjure up all kinds of facts and figures on demand, and he figured that having to admit that there were things that even he simply did. not. know was equivalent to The Child of God being beaten at his own game – figuratively and literally – by that big, silent boy from Hyoutei. The news of Tezuka's narrow victory over the copycat specialist (who had been flying under everyone's radar until those drawn out, overly dramatic qualifying rounds) had not passed the twice-defending Champions unnoticed, and Yukimura supposed that the boy, roughly Akaya's age and now a high school freshman, would rejoin the ranks of his senpai-taichi as a regular on his team. In fact, he rather hoped so. It would be interesting to see for himself the development in the boy's tennis, assuming that any significant progress had been made over the past year; after all, even the most promising young talents did not always turn out as expected.
Well, his reflections on Tezuka, Hyoutei and their last National Tournament of junior high (Rikkai's least successful in terms of silverware) aside, Yukimura thought it best to reassure The Master that despite of this relatively minor hiccup in an otherwise nearly faultless service record, he still had faith in his fact-spouting capabilities.
"No, that will be fine for now," he told his friend as firmly as he could. "Thank you."
"You say that, but your legs clearly don't agree with you," remarked a somewhat pacified Yanagi pointedly after a moment of contemplative silence.
"Seiichi, you're pacing again," he added, a wry smirk slowly creeping back into place—
Oh, he knew that he really shouldn't, what with the data situation still far from resolved, but he couldn't help himself: Seiichi was just too predictable.
—and Yukimura immediately regretted his earlier generosity. After all, wasn't Yanagi's negligence both embarrassing and unforgivable? Granted that he was remarkably well-versed on the capabilities of the members of their own team and those belonging to relevant rival schools, but wasn't it his primary responsibility to keep an eye on the talent growing in Rikkai's own backyard? And if nothing else, was this any way of treating his captain (and not to mention, close friend!) and repaying him for his kindness and understanding? Surely, that couldn't be!
Against his will, The Child of God found that it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain an appropriate level of Zen. "I told you, Renji. I'm not pacing, I'm—"
"Seiichi, extrapolated data or not, he will make it on time." Yanagi suddenly spoke with such utter conviction that Yukimura cast a curious glance in his direction, not once but twice. "And you know what I think about absolute certainties."
Surprised and largely undecided as to how to appropriately respond to The Master's unexpectedly passionate display of what could only be described as 'blind faith' (something that was completely unexpected of him in its own right), Yukimura decided that it was best for everyone if the conversation was moved to safer, more familiar ground.
"Where is Sanada?" he asked, rather abruptly. "I told him to be early, but I haven't seen him all day. He's not sick, is he?"
"Not at all. He was quite the opposite, in fact, when I last saw him," replied Yanagi readily, secretly rather relieved that Yukimura for some reason had initiated such a sudden change of topic. He hadn't planned on sounding quite so high-spirited and gung-ho about it, but with Yukimura looking so unhappy, he felt obliged to do something proactive, and might have overdone it a little. "He arrived at the changing rooms shortly before I left, so unless he has managed to somehow lock himself inside the club house with your key – or has otherwise fallen prey to our Trickster at some point between then and now, which is a highly unlikely scenario since Genichirou is much too experienced and paranoid to lower his guard around Niou – I see no reason why he shouldn't join us at any moment."
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, but Yukimura's final verdict on the matter was swift like Sanada's Fuu and just as unforgiving:
"Still, he's late."
"So he is," admitted Yanagi coolly. That the vice-captain could expect to be severely punished for his transgression was a foregone conclusion, and the poor soul had yet to even arrive.
"Sanada is never late," Yukimura insisted.
The Master correctly sensed the challenge and frowned lightly in concentration. Thankfully, this was a comparatively simple analysis that required data that he did have, but his conclusion was far from pleasant. The Child of God was not going to like this.
"I understand what would lead you to surmise that, Seiichi," he said. "But I'm afraid that you're wrong."
Then, Yanagi waited.
He was treading on rather dangerous ground now, he knew, because if there were anything that the blue-haired boy disliked, it was being told that he wrong. The Master had his well-founded suspicions, although he had yet to confirm as much, but it really would seem that it was right up there with the displeasure of having lost a tennis match. The severe lack of data on the issue stemmed primarily from the fact that Yukimura lost at tennis only very rarely. That one time thus far had been to Echizen Ryoma, who for reasons yet to be revealed lost to no-one, and their battle against one another had been so spectacular to watch that it overshadowed even the eventual victor; something that had since provoked much speculation in the tennis community on whether or not anyone even really lost in that match, despite of the numbers on the scoreboard. (Almost two years on, Yanagi was still 81% undecided on the matter, and Sadaharu wasn't faring much better.) Regardless, one thing was abundantly clear: Yukimura Seiichi was not a boy to take kindly to accusations of being mistaken.
But data did not lie; even to please the descendants of gods.
Yukimura had apparently reached a similar conclusion, because he merely cocked a brow to indicate that he was listening but that further elaboration would be required on Yanagi's part before he could be declared properly convinced.
The Master nodded obligingly. "I distinctly recall that one time when—"
Someone coughed. "Yukimura. Yanagi."
