Dedicated to Asami-chan because if she wasn't so obsessed with PoT I wouldn't have written this fanfic at all.
By the way, I watched the dubbed anime and I'm proud of it.
1. Zen
It was love all – Echizen serve.
As the prepubescent tennis player bent his knees and tossed the ball into the air, his opponent, a lanky sixteen-year-old, tightly gripped his racquet and kept his eyes apprehensively ahead. Five games had been played so far in the match, all of which belonged to Echizen. Unless Echizen choked, there was no way the older boy could win. It all depended upon how Echizen handled his nerves. Perhaps beneath that cold exterior, the boy was distraught; perhaps he was feeling frayed or raw. That was what the older boy hoped.
He saw Echizen's eyes flit about. He saw his feet spring from the ground. He saw him bring his racquet down.
And he saw the smile playing upon his lips. A grim smile, but a smile of enjoyment nonetheless. It was almost cruel, the way those lips curled.
15 – 0.
Echizen had served an ace.
The older boy knew he was finished. Echizen was not losing his nerve. That smile had said it all. I am better than you. A calm statement, lacking any inflections whatsoever. And yet, the truth, and boy did Echizen know it.
30 – 0.
This time, the older boy had managed a short return. Echizen quickly burst his bubble. With consummate, contemptuous ease, the younger boy ran to the net and smashed the return for a winner.
Now Echizen was looking bored. As he started bouncing the ball for his next serve, he discreetly changed hands on his racquet from his left hand to his right. He served with his opposite hand.
He performed his famous kick serve: as he jumped into the air, with subtlety he twisted his body and hand, and the ball sped through the air and bounced off in a tangent. The older boy hit it with the frame of his racquet and the ball did not even land on the other side of the net. It bounced once on the older boy's own side and then went still.
40 – 0.
The older boy was perfectly aware that Echizen was going easy on him. Something in his stare and cool demeanour had said that.
This boy… his first name Ryoma… was in his own league. People noticed him, encouraging him warmly or rejecting him hotly, whichever their fancy. And Ryoma ignored it all. He existed solely within the walls he had built, lived comfortably like that.
As Ryoma served for match point, the older boy took a very good look at him. Ryoma was not even sweating. The smile had gone had gone from his face. Even though he was winning, he almost looked frustrated. I want to go higher, those eyes said. But right now, I'm pinned to the ground.
Ryoma served, and the older boy wondered where this kid would be in the future. Once he managed to spread his wings and fly, who knew where he could go? Ryoma evidently liked the thought of it. Something soft…
Tennis was his ultimate Zen.
"Game set to Echizen!"
Zen, huh? What a stupid pun.