Momo hadn't moved from where he stood and neither had Shinji. This wasn't due to fear on either of their parts – Shinji saw now reason to be afraid of the intruder and Momo saw no reason to be scared of a creepy dude who'd shown no action since they'd arrived except mumbling to himself.

I could probably take him, Momo thought bitterly. If only he didn't have Ryoma on his back. Right now, though, he had no choice but to try and bargain with the stranger.

"My friend is hurt, and these three were taking us somewhere to find help," Momo said, nodding to Horio, Katsuo and Kachiro. "Now, if you'll let us past-"

"There's no where past here besides Fudomine territory."

The voice that said that was strange, and a new figure had appeared in a flash. All Momo had seen was a blur as he arrived, and then the blur became a skinny boy with floppy red hair. Stupid red hair, Momo thought.

"What's going on here?" The new boy asked Shinji, arms crossed over his chest. "Who are they?"

"Kamio," Shinji mumbled. "Don't know."

"What, you're just going to let strangers wander onto our turf without checking them? You should've alerted a team mate-"

"Team mate?" Momo murmured, curious. Then he noticed something; strapped over the shoulders of each of them was a bag, vaguely racket-shaped. "You play tennis?"

"What's it to you?" Kamio snapped back abrasively. "I'm sick of this. I am SO not feeling this rhythm. Freeze 'em, Shinji."

"Sure," Shinji murmured. His eyes narrowed and then glowed a pale blue as he mumbled, "Spot."

Momo was about to ask what the hell that was meant to do, but his mouth didn't move. In fact, nothing felt quite ride with his body right now... his legs wobbled, too weak to support his weight, and the arms that helped support Ryoma fell limp and they both tumbled to the ground. He'd hit his chin hard and had landed in a very uncomfortable position, but he found it impossible to move.

"Momoshiro-" someone tried to shout, but the three of them had suffered the same fate as he had.

Shinji stared down at them. "What now? We could dispose of them ourselves, but that would be so much effort. I guess we could just leave them here. Maybe a crow will come along and peck their eyes out, or something."

"Well, you know what Tachibana's like about us just leaving them like this," Kamio said, stretching. "But I don't really want to have to move them ourselves. The big one seems heavy. Let's go get someone to help out."

"Wait."

Kamio's head snapped round to face back to where the pile of bodies had lay. Ryoma had risen.

"Shinji, I thought you'd used your spot on them!"

"Well, that one was unconscious at the time," Shinji excused himself. "I didn't think he'd get back up. It seemed a shame to waste energy putting someone's muscles to sleep when they were already asleep themselves."

"Whatever, just do it now-"

"Wait," Ryoma said again. He touched the spot on his head – it was sore, still tender to the touch, but it seemed to have stop bleeding and his vision had cleared. The world had stopped spinning for now, as well. He hefted the racket that he'd been given earlier and pointed it to the redhead. "You play tennis?"

Kamio let out a laugh. "What, this brat thinks he can play tennis? Don't make me laugh."

The last bit was really unnecessary, considering he already did. Ryoma wasn't discouraged, however. His eyes remained as blank as ever as they stayed fixed on Kamio, and he said, "Play a match with me. If we win, you'll let Momo-senpai go."

Kamio seemed amused by this idea. "And if I win?"

"That won't happen."

There was a tense moment. Then Kamio unsheathed his own racket, and slipped one headphone into his ear. "Fine, then. Let's see if you've got the skills."

They made their way to a tennis court (fortunately, there was one nearby: there seemed to tennis courts everywhere, be they real ones or crude, DIY ones fashioned out of rubble and junk). They decided on who should serve first (Ryoma), shook hands (despite being the antagonist, Kamio was still less of a brat about this then Ryoma), then took their places at each side of the court.

Ryoma served. The ball was returned almost instantly, firing past him at an incredible speed, and he blinked.

He'd barely even seen Kamio move. What was up with that? He'd crossed the court in a split second and returned the ball just as quickly.

"15-love," Shinji called out in a monotone.

Surely that had just been a fluke, right...? Ryoma frowned, served the ball again, and- the same happened. The game continued like this, with all of his serves easily returned by Kamio, and when the time came for the other to serve- well, Ryoma barely even saw the blur of the other's arm before the ball landed next to him and bounced away.

"Kuso..." Ryoma breathed.

"What's wrong?" Kamio laughed, removing his headphones temporarily. "Didn't count on this happening, did you? Don't take it too hard. You're only human, after all."

He replaced his headphones, and Ryoma prepared for another serve. He had a plan, but he had to wait until it was his turn to serve again – for now, he'd just have to lay low. If Kamio realised he was up to something, everything would be ruined.

"Game to Kamio. 2-0."

Ryoma breathed deeply, pretending to weigh up his options and decide where to serve to. Then, when he did serve, he aimed it straight at Kamio.

Or rather, right at Kamio's pocket. Ryoma had followed the cord of his headphones to the bulky Walkman that the other carried, and now the ball was speeding towards it. Kamio was apparently caught off guard, since he didn't manage to move in time, and a tennis ball travelling at 180 m.p.h. crashed into his hip with an audible crunch.

Fortunately, it was only the Walkman that had broke, not Kamio's hip. From the way he reacted, though, it might as well have been a bone that had broken; he tore off his headphones at once and wrenched the Walkman from his pocket. It was a bulky thing, but even the toughest of plastic couldn't withstand a serve from Echizen Ryoma; it seemed totally beyond repair.

"You- you bastard!" Kamio screamed, clutching it to his chest. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you have NO RESPECT for other people's property? Do you KNOW how long it's going to take a "

Ryoma allowed himself a small smirk. "Well, shall we play on?"

"Tsk," Kamio spat, looking ready to kill. "Fine. It's not like I still won't be faster than you, anyway."

Kamio readied himself, and nodded. Ryoma served and he- totally missed the return. Ran straight by the ball and nearly crashed into a wall.

So, he'd been right in taking out his music. Without it, Kamio seemed unable to coordinate his movements properly or control his speed. He was still fast, sure, but his speed was detrimental to his tennis without music to guide him.

From there on in, the game was child's play. Kamio couldn't return any of Ryoma's serves, nor could he control his own to make them difficult for Ryoma to get to. When Shinji called out the final score, the redhead's face was flushed in anger and embarrassment, and he vaulted the net.

Ryoma stepped out of his way easily and he landed on his face.

"Smart," Shinji said, "Attacking your weakness to mess up your rhythm."

"Shut UP, Shinji!" Kamio said, managing to just grab the front of Ryoma's jersey, "I'm gonna kill him-"

Kamio's hands became limp and the material he'd been gripping slipped out from between his fingers. He turned to glare at Shinji. "Shinji, don't use spot on me-"

His eyes widened as he saw Momo and Horio, Katsuo and Kachiro rise, and he turned to his bluenette friend angrily. "What are you DOING?"

"You said we'd unfreeze them if he won," Shinji mumbled, "And he won. The score was 6-2."

"I know it was," Kamio hissed, before sighing. "Fine. You won."

"That's it?" Momo asked suspiciously, stretching. It felt strange to be able to move again. "You're going to let us go just like that?"

"What else can I do? Tennis is law," Kamio lamented. He was clearly not over the death of his Walkman, but he seemed to be accepting it slowly.

Ryoma was about to question what he meant by that when he heard someone call on them.

"Hoooiiii! Kamio! Shinji!"

He looked up to see someone approaching them. A slightly dirty looking tracksuit top, leggings, and a strip of material around their waist – could that be... a skirt? Was that a girl? Whoa, what the hell? She was carrying a bundle of firewood beneath her arm and she placed a hand on her hip as she reached them, lookin sassy.

"What's going on? Who are these guys?" She asked, looking from Kamio to Seigaku's group curiously. Then, in a way that made her sound older than she was and them seem like kids, she said, "Were you playing tennis again?"

Kamio seemed sheepish, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Well, maybe a little-"

"Idiots! Didn't brother tell you not to?" She said, "What did you lose?"

"N-nothing!" Kamio denied the accusation, shaking his head. "Well- we agreed to let them go."

"What team do they belong to?" Ann asked, frowning.

Momo and Ryoma looked to each other. Finally, Momo spoke up. "We're a part of Seishun Space Station's team."

Shinji, Kamio and Ann stared. "Space? You came from space?"

To be fair, there had only been a very slim chance that anyone would buy a story like that, but Ryoma was still a little annoyed when Kamio burst out with, "They're obviously lying! They're probably members of another team come to spy on us. We should take them back to base and have Tetsu interrogate them."

"It doesn't seem likely that they're telling the truth," Shinji offered his input. "But suppose they really came from space? Then again, Japan has never had a space programme... that we know of. Besides that, what purpose would anyone have to send a team of teenagers into space? And how would they get back here?"

"Oh, shut up," Ann said, before looking to Momo and Ryoma. "Okay. Come with us."

No way are we doing that, thought Ryoma. Momo, though, answered, "Sure!"

"Momo-senpai," Ryoma hissed, "What are you doing?"

"Well, Echizen," Momo said, a slightly dreamy look in his eyes, "We can't say no to a cute girl if she's asking us on a date."

Ryoma was almost totally positive that this wasn't a date, but he let it slide if only because he didn't feel like arguing with him. He, Momo and Horio, Katsuo and Kachiro were coralled by Kamio and Shinji and Ann led the way. They walked for what felt like minutes (or maybe it was hours, I'm not sure [my grasp of time is also shaky at best]) before finally the reached a building.

It was large. It seemed to be a school: the sign outside it read FUDOMINE MIDDLE SCHOOL, so it probably was a part of a school, actually. They walked along a corridor until they reached a door sealed with a multitude of locks. She knocked on it with a succession of knocks, then waited.

No reply came. Ann huffed, then said, "Brother, let us in! It's us!"

There was silence. Kamio said, "You've got to say the code."

"I'm not saying that," Ann argued, crossing her arms over her chest. Nobody said anything, and finally she sighed and conceded. "'Our star of hope, a rebel, Tachibana'. I can't believe you guys chose that as our code."

"It's a good code," Shinji mumbled, and Kamio nodded in agreement.

"Sorry, Ann," came a voice from behind the door, and the clicks of locks being unlocked sounded. "We've had to tighten up security lately." The door opened and a white bandana appeared. Tetsu leant against the doorframe and said, "Who's that you've got with you?"

"I don't know. One of them beat Kamio at tennis, though," she said, worming her way past him. "Figured we'd get them checked out instead of leaving them wandering around. Kamio thinks they're spies. I brought the firewood, by the way."

"Alright," he said, sounding unsure. He opened the door and they were ushered in. "Who did they say they are?"

"Tennis players from space."

Ryoma stepped into the gym hall and looked around. It seemed fairly normal, save for the fact that it was reinforced strongly, each door besides the one they'd come through barricaded. What kind of gym hall needed that sort of defences? There were a few other people mulling about, but the most noticable was a black haired boy who watched him carefully. The mole on his temple seemed somewhat dangerous. Well, as dangerous as a mole could seem.

"Space?" He said, looking over Ryoma and Momo carefully. They definitely didn't seem like they were from space; they'd shed their heavy spacesuits after their abrupt landing, and the white and blue tracksuits they wore, while certainly cleaner than Fudomine's own uniform, didn't seem too extraterrestrial.

Still... was there a chance that these people... could be...?

"Tetsu should check to see if they're telling the truth," he said, before looking to Ryoma, "If that's okay, that is?"

"...Sure," Ryoma said. He wasn't exactly sure what the other had in store, but he couldn't exactly argue.

Tachibana nodded to Tetsu, who nodded to Ryoma, who only stared. Tetsu removed his bandana and took Ryoma's face in his hands – one on each cheek – before closing in. For a moment, Ryoma was sure he was going to be smooched, but instead Tetsu just bumped his forehead against Ryoma's and stayed there.

"What's he doing?" Momo asked, sounding as uncomfortable as Ryoma felt.

"Ishida's a telepath, but not a strong one," Ann supplied helpfully. "He needs skin-to-skin contact to use his power, but he should be able to tell if you're lying about being from space."

"Why would we lie about being from space?" Momo asked, but Ann hushed him.

Ryoma had been unable to protest, mostly because having your mind read felt weird. Like there was a worm wriggling around in your brain and – given that his head already hurt – that was not a particularly pleasant experience. He scowled, closing his eyes to try and pretend he didn't feel it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tetsu released him. "His story checks out. He definitely has genuine memories of living in space."

Everyone except Tachibana seemed surprised. Tachibana simply lowered his head and sighed.

"What does this mean?" Ann finally asked.

"It would seem," Tachibana said, "that they're our enemies."

TBC?