note oh look an update! for those wondering, when i mention 'football', i'm referring to soccer and not american football. sorry for the confusion(?) i have a pretty good idea how i want this fic to end. whether we'll get there i'm still not too sure about, considering this fic still hasn't started yet. it sort of went differently than i thought it would. let's hope i'll have time to crank the rest of it out. i am literally writing this in between classes so we'll see! in the meantime, enjoy.

warning not everything is a disaster just yet but still sort of disaster. (as in, my writing. my writing is a disaster.)

Praise the hermit, regret the friend;

Honestly speaking, Naoto's more of a fan of football than he is of tennis. But there's a subtle charm to tennis he can't quite place, and he finds himself on the bleachers after school watching the tennis team practice. Already, there's a crowd of girls gathering behind the fence, chattering animatedly. Naoto spots Fuji Syuusuke almost immediately among the blue jerseys, but his eyes aren't focused on the crowd behind him. He's in a stance on the far side of the court, legs spread in a defensive stance as one of the other second-years (is his name Kawamura?) smashes it over the net.

"Higuma otoshi!"

"It's coming!"

What's coming, Naoto wonders, until suddenly Fuji Syuusuke does a sudden spin, twisting his racquet to hit the ball with his arms spread out. The tennis ball is lobbed to the other side of the net, and Fuji Syuusuke has his eyes closed.

Naoto is stunned. Is tennis usually played like this? What in the world was that?

From his position on the court, Fuji Syuusuke looks up and catches his gaze. His eyes are open. Embarrassed, Naoto raises his hand awkwardly in a tiny wave. Fuji Syuusuke closes his eyes, smiles, and waves back.

"He opened his eyes!"

"That's how focused he was! He's so cool."

"Fuji!"

Fuji Syuusuke turns around. It's another second year this time, the one that called his name. Glasses and spiky hair. "What is it, Tezuka?"

He holds out a towel. As Fuji Syuusuke takes it from him, Tezuka crosses his arms. "Just making sure you aren't slacking off."

Fuji looks confused for a second before chuckling. "If that's all then I don't think I'm your problem." He gestures to the bickering pair of first years over by the water fountain. "You might want to check with the first years over there."

Tezuka lets out a quiet sigh and Fuji places a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. "It's not easy, is it?"

Naoto watches the exchange curiously from afar. The two of them exchange a few more words before they part and Naoto is surprised when Fuji excuses himself from the courts and jogs his way over to where he's been watching. Fuji slows down to a walk as he nears, lowering his head politely.

"I might have come across rude upon our first meeting," Fuji says, "and so I wanted to apologise."

Naoto remembers Fuji's hand on his shoulder, gentle but firm. "That's fine, don't worry about it. No need to apologise, really."

"I don't think it occurred to me at the time that you were an upper class student."

Naoto waves it off with a hand. "Well, I'm not offended. I'm still pretty lost. I only transferred in this year." He stares down at his shoes awkwardly before asking, "how did your tournament go?"

"We did pretty well," Fuji says, tilting his head to the left. "We've still got a long way to go. Our captain is putting us through a lot of practice to prepare for our next match."

"Your captain?"

Fuji turns around, eyes searching. "The one standing near the freshman crowd, there. I was talking to him a while ago, I'm not sure if you noticed."

The one with the glasses. Naoto nods, frowning a little. "He's… also a second year?"

"That's right. We're good friends." Fuji looks at him curiously. "Do you play tennis, senpai?"

Naoto blinks. Senpai? And then—right, he's the older one. In many ways, it doesn't feel like it. "Ah, no. I… football. I don't play, but I enjoy watching football."

"Oh? What's your favourite team?"

Um. Naoto hasn't really thought about this before. "The one that's winning, I guess."

The corners of Fuji's mouth lift. "I see."

"You were really cool, though." Naoto stretches his arms out, just like he'd seen Fuji do during his practice match. "This move. What's it called?"

Fuji laughs. "Higuma otoshi. You look kind of like a plane."

"Well, that's what you looked like on the court. I'm probably not doing it right at all, though. No one ever wants to play charades with me."

There's a small sparkle in Fuji's eye, and Naoto straightens, strangely pleased. He picks his schoolbag up and hefts it over his shoulder. "Well, I've got to get going. You probably want to get changed, too."

"Well, I'll be around here for a little longer for some extra practice. Thank you for coming by to watch. I'll excuse myself, now." Fuji's about to turn, but then he makes a strange expression and pivots back around. "Sorry, senpai—did I get your name?"

Oh. "Tokuda. Tokuda Naoto."

"Tokuda-senpai," Fuji repeats slowly. "I'm Fuji Syuusuke."

"I know," Naoto says. "My sister's a really big fan. She's a freshman. Since we transferred, she's been really idolising you and your tennis."

"I'm grateful," Fuji replies, lowering his head. "Tell her I said thank you."

"I will."

"See you around, senpai." Fuji Syuusuke bows, and Naoto watches him go. Fuji Syuusuke walks quickly and carefully. Slowly but deliberately: heel-toe, heel-toe.

.

A knock on her door. "…Hey."

Moe looks up from her magazine. She takes one earbud out and pouts. "What?"

"Why do you like him?"

"Fuji-senpai?"

Naoto nods from the doorway.

"He's pretty! And he's cool. Everyone else really likes him, too."

"Hmmm."

She sits up straighter in her chair. "Are you going to introduce me to him?"

Naoto invites himself into her room and, with one big motion, flops himself down on her bed. Moe stands up and pokes at him. He groans in response.

"Well?"

"Did you know his eyes are blue?"

"You saw his eyes?"

"I saw his tennis practice."

With a sharp, excited gasp, Moe folds her arms and tucks her hands into her armpits. "Did you get to talk to him at all? He's really nice, isn't he?"

"Well, he knows you exist now." He rolls over into a sitting position and pinches her ear, making her squeal. "Say, Moe. How do you think I would do in the tennis club? Would I suck royally? Or do you think I could make it as a regular?"

Moe pushes his hand away. "You? Tennis?"

"What?"

"Remember when mom made you do football in elementary school and you threatened to run away from home because you hated playing in competitions?"

"Well, it was just a thought," Naoto said defensively, although he did remember how much he hated it. Competing, not football. "It's not like I'm actually thinking about joining the tennis club."

"I mean, I don't think you're bad at sports. Mostly you're just good at running. You're like Forrest Gump. Doing stuff without thinking too much about it. I mean, at least he had a girl to keep him grounded. You're just floating."

"Floating," Naoto repeats, shooting her a look.

"Yes." Moe punches him in the shoulder. "Did Fuji-senpai say anything else to you? Did he ask about me?"

"No and no," Naoto snorts. "Go back to whatever you were doing, squirt. I'm going to sleep." He pushes off the bed and slides across the room to the door.

"Night, nii-chan."

Naoto hesitates only a little. "Night." As he closes the door behind him, he lets out a small sigh and presses his palms to his face.

He's thinking way too much.

.

.

.

tbc