Impressionism and Cacti

Nine-thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-six, nine-thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-seven, nine-thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-eight, nine-thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-nine, ten-thousand. Kaidoh put his racket down on the grass and collapsed against the bark of the willow tree, resting in its shade. Alright, I'm done with racket swings. Next is running. Kaidoh picked himself up off the ground, blissfully unaware of the bruising on his arm, and began to run.

Every five kilometers, Kaidoh would allow himself one sip from his water bottle. His goal was to start with a sixteen-ounce water bottle and empty it by the end of the day. Each drop of water that slid down his parched throat was a personal victory for him, as the water not only refreshed his body, but also reminded him that he was one step closer to his goal. Kaidoh kept moving, not letting his pace fall for a second. In addition to simply building up his overall level of tennis, Kaidoh had a hidden motive in his monstrous training: to obtain the endurance of any middle-school tennis player in the national tournament. It would not be an easy task, but stamina was his greatest asset as a player. With stamina, he gained the confidence necessary to play through a long and difficult game, and with his persistence and drive, he would have the means to win in the end.

I won't slow down a step. I'm going to keep moving. Kaidoh dragged his feet over the sidewalk laboriously, evenly, with a concentrated effort. Already panting, thirsting, Kaidoh would not allow himself a microsecond of respite. I'm going to have the best stamina in Japan. I'm going to...

The exhaustion, heat, physical damage, and dehydration all caught up to Kaidoh in an instant as he collapsed on the sidewalk, unconscious.

Syusuke Fuji yawned as he fastened his seatbelt in the backseat of his sister's car. It was a relatively boring day. The only thing keeping him going was the imminent Nationals. Up until this point, the prodigy had relatively easy matches. Going to the nationals meant finding people who would seriously challenge him – maybe even beat him – and renew his love for the game. Fuji desperately wanted to issue a challenge to Tachibana Kippei, the captain of Fudoumine who had broken past Fuji's trademark "triple counters". There were plenty of other amazing players in the tournament, as well, including the legendary Kuranosuke Shiraishi, known for his "Perfect Tennis". If I want to compete seriously in the Nationals, these "triple counters" won't be enough. I have to improve.

Just as Fuji began to muse, he saw a disturbing sight out of the corner of his eye. "Yumiko, stop!" he screamed to his sister. He tore off his seatbelt and got out of the car, moving to the fallen body on the road. His stomach inverted itself as he viewed the body more closely. He's breathing, but it's shallow. He probably overworked himself. Fuji turned to his older sister, who had lowered the car window. "It's not serious, so I don't think he'll need to go to the hospital, but he needs to rest. We can let him rest at home, since we're much closer to there than to his house."

I feel dizzy. Where am I? And why does the room smell like plants?

"Ah! Are you back with us, Kaidoh?"

Kaidoh rubbed his eyes slowly. "Fuji? Where am I?"

Fuji smiled. "This is my room."

Kaidoh eyed the surroundings. The room seemed quite orderly, except for the erratic placement of cacti plants and photographs of Fuji's family and the Seigaku members. "What happened?"

"That's right, you probably don't remember. I'm guessing you overworked yourself in training." He chuckled. "Sounds like you."

Kaidoh attempted to bow from his prone position, but felt a sharp pain in his back and stopped halfway. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

"Not at all. You can just rest here."

Kaidoh flushed. "Thank you."

Fuji sat down at his oak desk and began working on a short history assignment, leaving the Snake to his own devices.

In reality, Kaidoh was furious with himself. The nationals were approaching quickly, and Kaidoh needed to train in order to get back on the team. If he didn't improve, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. "Thank you for taking care of me," began Kaidoh, slowly rising off of the bed, and limping towards the door.

Kaidoh found a menacing cactus plant half a centimeter from his face. On the other side of the plant was Fuji's hand wrapped around the pot. "Not so fast, Kaidoh. You're still injured and exhausted. I'm not going to allow you to leave here until tomorrow."

"But--"

"It's alright. I've already called your parents and explained the situation."

"Fuji, I--"

Just at that moment, the door opened, and a familiar aura of evil crept into the floral sanctuary. "Fuji called me as well after he called your parents, Kaidoh."

Kaidoh stopped advancing towards the door. "Inui."

"I gave explicit orders to Fuji to not to let you leave this room under any circumstances until tomorrow. In addition, you are to be resting the entire time." He snickered. "Unless there's something else you'd rather do alone with Fu--"

"Wait, though," began Kaidoh, thankfully oblivious to Inui's joke. "I'm better, honestly. I can train again. I have to get out there and--"

"Stop it, Kaidoh. Overwork is counterproductive."

Kaidoh knew that Inui was correct, which just made him more frustrated.

In the midst of the heavy tension pierced a series of ethereal, painfully beautiful pitches centered around a D flat. Both Kaidoh and Inui stared as the genius skillfully procured notes from his flute. Fuji played to the end of the tenth measure and then stopped, leaving the others speechless. "Claude Debussy's 'Syrynx'. Kaidoh, do you know the fundamental principle of this piece?"

Kaidoh was silent.

"The notes, to be sure, are arranged in a pleasing manner. But, the notes are highlighted because the rests exists. Within the melody, in between melodies, and at the end of phrases, rests are an integral part of music. You can't make a complete song without rest." Fuji put his flute back on his desk. "And it's the same with training. Rest is necessary for the body, and is just as much a part of training as is running laps or hitting balls."

Kaidoh paused. "You're right."

Inui glanced at his watch. "Well, if that's settled, I've got work to do. I'll see you both tomorrow."

Fuji opened the door. "Alright. Bye."

Kaidoh sat down on the bed as Fuji sat at his desk. After a few awkward moments of silence passed, Fuji turned to Kaidoh. "You know, I have a spare kazoo that I haven't used."

Kaidoh flushed. "I really haven't played music before, so I wouldn't know what to do."

Fuji grinned. "Don't worry, you can start with something simple."

"I've already caused a lot of trouble. I don't want to bother you."

"I don't mind, really." Fuji picked up the spare instrument. "Here, I'll teach you."

"Fuji? What are you doing?"

Inui removed his glasses to clean them as he walked back through the side street. Kaidoh's really something else. I didn't tell him to do that kind of ridiculous routine, but he almost pulled it off. I don't doubt that he has the best stamina of any middle-school player in Japan. Still, he's pretty reckless. Inui replaced his glasses just in time to see the sun set.

As he walked back, Inui heard a familiar voice call out "Alright! Two games to one!"

It's actually not that surprising that he would be here. Let me make sure, though. Inui walked up the stairs into the street courts, to find Momoshiro holding his racket proudly aimed at his opponent, Ibu Shinji of Fudoumine.

"Don!"

"Momoshiro!" called Inui, approaching the court.

"Yo, Inui." Momoshiro waved at his friend. "Don't worry, we've got permission from Tachibana for this match--"

Ibu snorted. "Indirectly. I only saw you with Ann all day. Our captain would be upset if anyone, especially from another school, and especially anyone from the school that beat us, with his sister."

Momoshiro glared at Ibu. "You want to say that again?"

"Before you two get in a fight and I have to apply a double-dosage of my Juice, I came over here because I heard the match was two to one."

Momoshiro grinned. "Oh, yeah. I've been working hard since the last ranking games. If you're hunting for data, I'll give you a feast right here!"

Ibu walked back to the baseline, and began to mutter to himself. "You're an impressive player, Momoshiro. I have no doubts that Captain Tachibana could break that technique. But it really is something scary. I hope that I find a way around it. Maybe there's some kind of weakness I can exploit."

The match began in full force.

Ibu and Momoshiro approached each other and bowed. "Thank you for the game."

Inui fixed his glasses. Six games to one in the end. You were right, Momoshiro. That was good data.

Author's Notes:

I accidentally wrote the next chapter first, and then realized I was missing a plot point, so I went back and wrote this.