Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis.

A/N: In my attempt to create a RyoSaku fic true to their age... this is what came out. For the life of me, I can hardly see anything going on with RyoSaku in their current age. Which is why, tada! Written on crack. Forgive the grammatical errors.

The Ichinen Quartet

"I never asked to be a part of this."

Ryoma was glaring at nothing in particular other than the string of events that led to this sunny Sunday morning as he sat on his seat, watching a rather bland match of hit and miss, as his bum warmed the court benches for substitutes. He was seated next to a frazzled Horio Satoshi, who was next in line to compete but apparently lacked the nerves- given, exhibit A, his scrunched up sweaty face and, from the doused registration sheet he passed to Ryoma, hands as well. And exhibit B, his constant anxious mutterings of, "Shit, shit, shit, shit."

Finally, the referee shouted, "Game. Set. Match!" to which Ryoma swore he could hear the deafening red alert alarms internally going off in Horio's mind. If only the latter could read his mind, it would be saying, "We. Are. Screwed."

"I-I can't believe we did it, Kachiro-kun!" Katsuo cried as he leapt onto Kachiro in a hug, crying his snots out. The doubles representatives of Seigaku walked back to the team, holding onto their first victory for the day, their arms slung over the other in tire, sweat, and bliss. On the other hand, Horio, seemingly entranced, automatically got up his seat and walked to the court with the racket on his hand shaking ridiculously.

"Good luck, Horio-kun! I know you'll fair better than us!" Kachiro cheered back at him.

"A-ah." came Horio's weak reply. As he stood in the middle of the court, the shadow of his opponent loomed over him. He gulped as he looked up to a face more menacing than Kaidoh's.

Five minutes into the game, after a number of "OH! God!"'s and "Oh, no!"'s, Ryoma got up and cringed. Watching Horio get beaten up by a monster twice his size, was too painful to watch.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sumire suddenly said, leering at him from where she sat. Ryoma twitched.

Fuck.

He'd forgotten about her.

"Nothing." He grumbled as he plopped back down. He'd be dammed if he'd end up getting pinched today as well.

"Change courts!"

"You're doing well, Horio." Sumire smiled.

"Thanks, sensei." Horio muttered, out of breath as he fell to the seat next to Ryoma who reluctantly gave him a bottle of water. Before long, they were talking strategy.

Eventually, it was the last match. One last win and Seigaku's record wouldn't be tarnished, regardless of the absentees. Now, if only there was a player around who'd end up a sure win.

"What?" Sumire glared, looking over her shoulder to find Ryoma's finger tapping her furiously. She raised a brow at him. And before he could speak up, she said. "Over my dead body you're going out there."

"What the hell!" Ryoma bursted out. "Look at what's left of your team!" He told her, pointing to the scene behind them.

"It's no worries Enzo-kun! Uwaaah! You were able to hit it back!"

"Fine." Sumire sighed. Then, as Ryoma was about to smirk, their coach pulled him down by his ear and threatened him. "But if you lose this, you'll be my lackey till the end of the season, is that clear?"

"Hn." Ryoma nodded stiffly.

"Ganbatte, neh!" Sumire cheered, laughing as she let her star player go.

Although fazed at first, when he got hold of his racket, when his tennis shoes walked on the court, and when his opponent suddenly cursed by the benches with his teammates, Ryoma couldn't help but smirk to himself. Apparently, the day was taking a turn for the better.

"Mada mada dane." He said, pointing his racket at his opponent. Outside the courts, his supporters exploded in cheer.

Ryoma started all out with his opponent. He gave him a taste of a true twist serve. A number of smashes. And each and everyone of his senpai's signature moves in remembrance of them. Needless to say, he breezed through the first 5 games. In fact, they were playing at 5-0 when Ryoma felt something familiar churn in his stomach.

And before he could stop it, Ryoma found himself losing momentum and tripped on the suddenly uneven ground. Also- wait, when did the world turn hazy?

"The hell's happening to Echizen?"

"Oh, god." Katsuo mumbled. "It has to be it."

It took Horio a moment before his eyes widened.

"Shit."

The day before, Inui introduced his latest concoction to the team. As usual, only the losers were required to drink. Surprisingly, amidst his reputation, when they saw Momoshiro gulp down the juice and actually smile after, saying, "It's actually not bad." The regulars, the whole team actually, was intrigued. Fuji went on to ask Inui for a glass, even toasting with his opponent Arai, who had lost at their match, and drank together.

"Hmm," Fuji started, eyeing his cup in wonder. "I liked the other juices better."

To which Arai cheered, "It actually tastes good!"

Given this, the pressure and intensity of the usual practice sessions dramatically dropped. Opponents drank together and cheered together while refilling their cups, all basking in Inui's once-in-a-lifetime delicious punishment beverage.

That afternoon, the freshmen got in later because of cleaning duties.

"What's happening?" Ryoma asked Inui who was jotting down encrypted notes in the corner. People were willingly crowding around his dispenser.

"Appreciation." Inui answered simply, his eyeglasses gleaming suspiciously.

"Hn." Ryoma shrugged and proceeded to the clubroom to change. Horio walked close behind.

"Look what we scored, guys!" Kachiro and Katsuo cheered as they rushed into the clubroom after them, raising a cup full of pink slush. "And to think the senpai-tachi almost finished it!"

"Is that the latest drink?" Ryoma asked after wearing his shirt. He got closer to scrutinize the beverage they had.

"Hai!" Katsuo chirped. "But we have to share it."

"Fine with me." Ryoma grinned. "It's not everyday we want to drink Inui-senpai's juices." He said, taking the cup. But before he could take a sip, Horio's hand slammed the cup from his hold.

"Baka!" the boy cried.

"Ho-Horio-kun- why?"

"You guys should know better!" He said, glaring at the mess before them. "No matter what it tastes like, Inui-senpai still made it."

Silence ensued as the thought sunk in. They turned to look at the deceitful melted slush on the floor and shuddered. They all exchanged wide-eyed looks, each one of them shaking with the feeling you get after realizing you've escaped death just by a thread.

"I- tasted it." Ryoma finally said. The other three students could only look at him in despair. And before long, a loud and deep cry came from the courts.

"Momo-chin?! What's wrong?!"

"I-I don't know why, senpai!" Momo cried to Eiji, clutching onto his aching, throbbing, glurgling stomach as he fell on his knees halfway into their match.

On the adjoining court, Fuji and Oishi's match was brought to a sudden stop.

"Fuji?"

"Ah." the tensai mumbled, managing a crooked smile as he wiped the sweat from his eyes, then realized they barely rallied enough for him to get exhausted. Oishi had gone over to his side of the court. "I just need to sit down for a while." Fuji said, not anymore trying to smile. Because fuck did his stomach suddenly start churning painfully.

"Let me help you." Oishi said in a fluster. But before he could get to Fuji, his stomach started feeling queezy.

"Oh, kami-sama. It's started."

As the whole club started screaming bloody murder, Eiji stood frozen on spot. Before him, the world grew red. His teammates were running amok, each and everyone of them held onto their stomachs, crying in the most painful of agonies. One by one, he watched them fall. And he too dropped on his knees, looked to the heavens and prayed, now fully realizing the burden of having been the last of his brethren to consume the juice from hell's kitchen.

"Kami-sama, be kind." He prayed before falling to the ground, writhing in pain with his teammates.

"Inui-" Tezuka implored, raising a hand up to a distant Inui. An Inui that stood still where he was, looking on, simply taking it all in, no action, no aide whatsoever. "-What have you done..."

"Echizen! Echizen!"

Huh?

"Get a hold of yourself, you stubborn child!" Sumire demanded in a cry.

"Wha-what happened?" Ryoma managed to utter. His mouth suddenly dry. His stomach, he could feel was getting better.

"You won, Echizen-kun! You won!" Kachiro cheered. After which his schoolmates followed in. Ryoma could only give them a satisfied smirk before passing out again.

When he came to, he was lying on the grass. The rythmic pok-ing of tennis balls soothing him. He got up slowly, still feeling a little light-headed, when a cold towel fell from his forehead.

"Ah! Ryoma-kun! You're awake!"

Ryoma's eyes narrowed. Where was everyone?

"Do you feel alright?" Sakuno fretted. Her cheeks were their usual pink.

"Hn." Ryoma nodded, still looking around.

"Everyone just went to get food." She said. "Ano, di-did you want anything?"

"Water." He managed to say coarsely. Sakuno nodded and was about to stand when a bottle came falling down to Ryoma's lap.

"You did good earlier, Echizen." Horio said, looking down at Ryoma, and gave him a smirk from where he stood. Behind him, Katsuo and Kachiro cheered. Tomoka popped behind them and raised her brow cattily at Horio.

"And when did you become senpai-tachi?" She jeered, rendering Horio red.

"We-well! Somebody has to!" He yelled in a stutter. "Someone has to step up while they're recuperating in the hospital!"

Behind them, Sumire was on the phone, chatting with a person they all knew too well. "It's going to be hell, I'll tell you that." She muttered over the phone with that old reminiscent grandma smile as she stood behind what was left of her team, the Ichi-nensei.

TBC.