Author's Note: This story contains vague references to Seigaku's gruelling training camp in Episode 108 of the anime and it is told in first person this time, alternating between the brothers' points of view. Enjoy! And please find it in your heart to forgive the OCCness (because there's plenty of that flying around, I'm sure) and the massive amount of fabrication.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Prince of Tennis and Konomi-sensei doesn't own me.

Visual Confirmation

#

Yuuta doesn't know that I know. In fact, I'm convinced that he doesn't think anyone knows; I could tell from the predictable place where he hid it, since it seriously lacked imagination. Though I must as well come clean and admit it: I knew from the very beginning. I knew from the moment he brought it into the house.

I often get the feeling that most people, sadly my own otouto included, assume that I'm not very observant. Perhaps it is because I smile a lot, I personally cannot tell; but in reality, I daresay I'm sharper than most. I don't usually like blowing my own trumpet, but if my opponent on the other side of the net changes his grip even the slightest, if his backswing slows or speeds up even a little, or if his ball toss is even an inch further to the left or the right, I know about it. I'm just good at noticing things, I suppose.

So really, it was child's play to see that Yuuta was hiding something from me.

It was even easier to find it.

Unlike a vast majority of my fellow St. Rudolphians, I actually prefer our dorms to my real home. Whenever someone asks why I don't stay with my family over the weekends at least, especially since my house is so close to the school that I don't technically need to live on campus in the first place, I normally ask the nosy brat in question to kindly mind his own damn business.

I doubt that anyone other than Mizuki-san would understand my feelings anyway; things have become so complicated lately that I'm not entirely sure if I understand what is going on anymore. But the bottom line is that I don't leave St. Rudolph unless I have to, because here I can at least pretend that I'm my own person and not just some useless appendix to Aniki the Genius Who Can Do No Wrong. When I pass through our front doors, it is as if I go back in time and become tensai Fuji Syusuke's otouto all over again. Not that any of this is all Aniki's fault, but I still can't help but to resent him for it.

(Though really, what's the use of mulling over things I can do absolutely nothing about?)

I pull a clean T-shirt over my head. I have just started to clear my mind of all thoughts other than winning my upcoming practise matches, when my phone rings, and I forget to check the caller ID.

"Hello?" I answer in a deliberately hurried tone. It's still alright with time, but Mizuki-san is not the one to tolerate tardiness. "Who is this?"

"Yuuta."

The all-too familiar voice gushes over my name and I can feel my good mood from earlier plummet with the same finality of Tezuka-san's famous drop-shot. "Oh it's you," I manage to croak. "What do you want?"

"How are you, Yuuta?" Aniki sounds perky as usual, clearly having chosen to ignore both my irritability and my rudeness. Something that is also just as usual. "You sound well."

"I'm fine," I reply guardedly, trying to figure out what the heck Aniki wants this time.

"I'm glad."

I cringe inside. This isn't natural. Even his voice sounds like it is smiling. "If you're going to ask me to come home, don't bother!" I hear myself bark before I can stop myself. "I'm busy, so leave me alone!"

"Saa…" Aniki stays silent for a moment before he says, "I'm just calling to say that I'll be away on a training camp this weekend, and I think everyone would appreciate your company while I'm gone. Just give it some thought."

My brother can be a sneaky bastard when he wants to be, and also very clever, so he's definitely up to something; probably test-driving some new variant of emotional blackmail, or something equally underhanded. So I try to buy some time by muttering something incoherent under my breath.

"Nee-san misses you, you know…" continues the voice on the other end of the line. "So please think it over, Yuuta."

Perhaps I have overestimated him. Aniki sounds sincere, almost timid; and I remain quiet for a few seconds before I force out a carefully unenthusiastic and definitely non-committing, "Sure."

There is no way in hell that I just made my brother even as much as a fraction of a promise, and yet I keep my phone clutched tightly in my right hand long after he has hung up.

#

That certainly went better than expected, I think to myself as put down the phone on my desk.

Now that I've set my little plan in motion, I can prepare for the weekend training trip that is supposed to be held at some mystery location somewhere out in the woods. It might turn out to be the same place as last year, though I should probably give both Oishi and Ryuuzaki-sensei more credit than that. Especially when some of the items specified on the pack-list feel a little off: ten pairs of socks, three to four large towels, jogging shoes and tennis shoes for only two days of training?

Saa, who knows? This weekend might turn out to be interesting after all.

While it is true that I prefer my dorm life to my family life, I sometimes allow Nee-chan to persuade me to come home on the occasional visit. Normally, I dread spending those weekends with Aniki in the house, but I do my best at keeping up appearances for Kaa-san and Nee-chan so at least they don't have to know. But when Aniki lets it slip that he'll be away for the entire weekend, I jump at the chance of spending two whole days in my rightful place as the youngest son, and therefore the most deserving of being totally pampered.

#

Once I've put down my bag on the floor of my room, I plonk down on my bed, unsure of what to do next. Kaa-san and Nee-chan haven't come back from the marketplace (when I called home to announce my plans for the weekend, they promised to cook up a storm), and since Aniki isn't at home either, I'm all alone in the house. As I look around the room, I skip over the fading posters that cover every inch of the white walls, relics of my younger days when I worshipped left-handed greats like Jimmy Connors, Guillermo Vilas and John McEnroe; the tennis trophies lining the top shelves of my bookcase, though I suppose that Aniki still has more than four times as many; and the glossy Wimbledon calendar sitting on my old desk. Tou-san brought it with him the last time he came back from England – one for Aniki and one for me – with the promise that he would take us both to attend the actual Championship next year. It's the best present—

Wait a second.

There is something else on the desk, something unexpected, and I roll off my bed to investigate.

It's a large navy blue notebook with a white ribbon tied around it.

Nee-chan (or God forbid, Aniki) must have put it there for me to find in my own time, but I can't help but to wonder why it looks vaguely familiar.

Then I remember. It can't be…

I quickly untie the ribbon, which falls to the floor in a crumpled heap, but then I stop. I have to admit that I'm just a tiny bit uneasy about what I'll find inside, but then my curiosity gets the better of me and I slowly flip it open to the first page.

'Fuji Yuuta' it announces in a neat, even handwriting that I could recognize anywhere, and just below it is a photograph of mini-me grinning my head off at the camera. I don't remember when the picture was taken exactly, but judging from my haircut it must have been well before we moved from Chiba.

Aniki must have found the scrapbook that I bought at a sale a while back. It was an impulsive, completely out of character, spur of the moment kind of purchase, and when I came home afterwards, I had rather regretted spending my allowance on something so useless. And girly, too, I realized to my horror and embarrassment. Totally convinced that Aniki would have a good laugh at my expense if he ever found out, I put it away somewhere (I think it might have ended up under my bed, but I'm not sure) and eventually forgot all about it.

Honestly, for being such a genius, Aniki really is stupid. The baka should know better than wasting his time gluing old pictures into some lame book when he has both tennis and school to focus on! That is, until I realize that in order for Aniki to have glued anything into anything, he must have found it first. And the thought instantly sends chills down my spine: Aniki must have gone through my stuff when I wasn't home.

God only knows what else he might have dug up while he was at it.

I quickly run through a mental list of my remaining worldly possessions, but to my immense relief, I can conclude that I didn't leave anything overly incriminating behind when I moved to the school dorms.

So, having put my most immediate fears to rest, I look down at the open scrapbook that still rests in my hands. What am I supposed to do with this then? Should I read it? Or should I not?

But before I can think about it any further or subdue my growing curiosity any longer, I find myself flipping through its colourful pages, and my amazement grows for each entry. There are photographs, magazine articles and newspaper clippings, and that is when I realize that they all have one thing in common:

They're all about me.

I see myself as a toddler, drooling on an oversized practise ball and running after Aniki who is smiling into the camera and supporting his weight on a miniature tennis racquet. Then, on another page, I seem to have grown a little, because most of it is dominated by a large picture of me and Nee-chan in front of my kindergarten. I'm wearing an old cap on my head, and my smile is a little sheepish as if Nee-chan had just caught me in the act of some mischief. The next page has no pictures at all, but contains a humours retelling of the family story about me accidentally dropping the cover of Aniki's first full-sized tennis racquet in the river when I was five. I can't believe that he still remembers. Or that he still thinks I did it on purpose.

But it's the headline of a small newspaper cut-out that really catches my attention:

'Five-Year-Old Fuji Yuuta Wins Chiba U-6 YTC'

The Chiba City U-6 Youth Tennis Tournament. It was my first ever win (my first proper title, I guess) and despite that it happened such a long time ago, I can still remember parts of the tournament. It must have been organized in some sort of round-robin format, because I distinctly remember playing a lot of different people that day. Although 'playing' is probably a relative term: we were all roughly five years old, the 'umpires' allowed us two bounces per hit, the nets were only about two feet high and I could barely hit a straight backhand. Needless to say, the competition must have been even worse than I was, because I won my group and proceeded into the quarter-final, semi-final and then the final without any problems. Nee-chan and Aniki had been cheering me on the whole time; so energetically that the mother of my opponent in the finals supposedly told them off. I had been so embarrassed then, but once I had won, I was secretly happy that they had been there to share my moment of triumph.

Not that I said anything, though. That would have been even more embarrassing.

At the conclusion of the U-6 final, the courts had been cleared for the U-10s. Aniki had entered the competition, of course, and even back then it had been obvious that my brother was someone very special. He was only six years old, almost seven, but already he moved with enough grace and composure to make strangers stop to watch him play. I had watched him too, envious and more than a little awed at the ease by which he dismissed opponents nearly twice his age and size; and the way his face never changed, no matter who he came up against. But perhaps it had always been that way: once Aniki stepped onto a tennis court, he couldn't be properly read or his moves fully predicted by anyone.

So what makes this tournament so memorable is that it was the first time somebody actually tried: when a boy named Saeki Kojirou appeared at the finals court to play against my brother in a match that turned out to be about as dazzling as could be expected from a couple of six-year-olds. But at the time, I had been rather taken in by what I saw – and the other spectators must have been impressed too, because at the end of the match, which my brother won, because he always did, both finalists received standing ovations from the kids and parents who had watched them play.

Saeki-san had whispered something in Aniki's ear when they met at the net for the final time to shake hands; and even though I never found out what was said (and probably never will), theirs was a handshake that would seal one of the strangest friendships I have ever known: the one between the laidback Saeki-san, who went on to become Rokkaku's vice-captain, and Aniki, who became Seigaku's Tensai.

It's strange how things turn out sometimes, isn't it?

Then I skip seven or eight pages of more text and pictures, seemingly fast-forwarding my life by more or less the same number of years, and I find a new headline cutting:

'Local Challenger on the Junior Tennis Circuit: Record 12 Consecutive Wins'

There is a small, blurry picture of me and Mizuki-san, and I still remember most of the short interview after. I never thought that it would ever get printed, much less that Aniki might take notice of the tiny article and save it. My brother seems to have done some light editing work of his own, though, because at some point, Mizuki-san had both a pair of round glasses and a goatee drawn on his face.

It's rude to laugh at one's elders, so I quickly turn the page to distract myself, and I'm greeted by a number of similar articles:

'St. Rudolph Gakuin Makes Tokyo's Best Eight List'

'St. Rudolph Gakuin Is Ready To Take On the Competition'

'Will the Southpaw Killer Lead the Way To the Kantou Regionals?'

There are photographs of me, my teammates and even Mizuki-san, and I have to put down the scrapbook for a moment to collect my thoughts.

I… I had no idea. I never knew that Aniki had followed my progress at my new school so closely, or that he had come to watch so many of my matches. Then I remember specifically telling my brother to stay away unless he wanted to play seriously – and whatever guilt I might have felt over my past behaviour towards him evaporates at an instant. Why am I even surprised? It would be so much like Aniki to totally ignore my wishes and just show up anyway…!

I run my fingers along the remaining pages, and notice that the last five pages or so feel distinctly different from the rest. Whereas the other pages were heavy and stiff from photos and glue, these last few are almost light. And when I impatiently turn to the end of the book, I understand why.

The last six pages are a collage of news articles I have never seen before, but it touches a past I could never forget, even if I tried.

'Prodigy Brothers Win U-12 Doubles Title'

'Fuji Syusuke and Fuji Yuuta Pair Crush Opposition'

'Fuji Brothers to Represent Chiba City at the Prefectural Youth Championships'

'Fuji Brothers Pull Out of Tournament Last-Minute Due to Injury'

This is when I realize that I made a big mistake when I selfishly declared that this scrapbook was all about me, because it's not, not in the slightest.

It's about us, the Fuji brothers.

On the last page there is no writing, just a single photo of Aniki and me. I don't recall the where's and when's, but it must have been taken only very shortly before I left Seigaku behind for good, because Aniki is wearing his regulars uniform while I'm dressed in a plain T-shirt and an old pair of tracksuit bottoms. Aniki has managed to snake an arm around my shoulders without me noticing, and he looks so ridiculously happy that I almost want him to come back from his camp early just so I can punch him for looking so damn cheerful. I, on the other hand, look as if I'm about to say something rude, nonetheless glaring into the camera lens.

It's a terrible picture of me, an even worse picture of us, and Aniki really should have known better than to include it at all. I mean, it definitely doesn't look a thing like a sibling photo is supposed to look like. We're brothers, aren't we? We're supposed to have our arms locked around each other's necks, each leaning on the other while laughing into the camera. As far as I know, one brother is not supposed to look like he means to murder the other at first best opportunity.

But my brother chose this picture for a reason, and as I look at it more carefully, I think I begin to understand why he decided to make this particular photo his closing statement.

It shows us for what we really are.

(Yes, we are brothers. Yes, we both play tennis. And yes, we're both damn good at what we do. But that's where the similarities end, and none of these things make us the same or give anyone the right to compare us to each another. We are Fuji Syusuke and Fuji Yuuta: we are two separate beings, two separate tennis players loyal to two separate teams, and we possess two separate sets of skills and experiences. We are not each other.)

I never thought he understood why I transferred to St. Rudolph in the first place; why I was so desperate to get away. Aniki never asked and I never told him, and when I finally packed my bags I assumed that maybe he didn't care. But now, with everything I've seen in this book, I'm starting to wonder if perhaps he understood all along… and if that's why he was so quick to let me go. Kaa-san had protested and even Nee-chan begged me to stay where I was, but my brother had just asked me one evening if this was what I truly wanted and then he did nothing to try to stop me.

So as mad as I am at him for having rummaged through my things without my permission, and for butting in where he shouldn't have, I smile. I just can't help it.

I close the book, careful not to fold even the corners of any of its pages, and I re-tie the ribbon around its dark blue cover. I'm not going to show Kaa-san or Nee-chan. Somehow I feel as if Aniki never intended for his work to be shared even with them, and I put it straight into my bag. I'll be taking this with me when I leave again on Sunday evening; it's far too valuable to leave behind.

"Aniki…" I mumble to myself at last. "You—"

It's an understatement to say that I'm relieved when the front door suddenly swings open, and Nee-chan calls for me to help with the groceries.

Our sister always had the strangest knack for timing.

"Syusuke, you look cheerful today." Nee-san's smile is bright and infectious when I walk into the kitchen, dressed and ready for school. "Did you have fun over the weekend?"

"I think we all improved a great deal due to the training," I reply. Then after a moment, I add, almost as an afterthought, "Hyoutei came to have practise matches with us, which was very useful."

"Hyoutei?" Nee-san's smile doesn't falter. "Isn't that the school with that rich, narcissistic boy?"

"…I suppose." I feel just a bit bewildered as to how on earth Nee-san could possibly have heard about Hyoutei's Atobe 'Snap! Peasant, bow down to Ore-sama' Keigo. "But how—"

"Yuuta may have said a thing or two about the competition at dinner the other day," she explains before she momentarily steps into the other room.

But of course. Yuuta would, wouldn't he?

I raise my voice a fraction so she'll still hear me from the kitchen. "That's not why I'm in a good mood, though. I have a new cactus."

"I'll never understand your fascination with those plants, or how you manage to find so many." Nee-san gives my shoulder a quick squeeze, probably meant to be sisterly and encouraging but which actually ends up being a bit painful after the last two days' intensive training. "But as long as you're happy, I have no objections."

I smile, because little does Nee-san know that I didn't buy this particular cactus, but that I found it in my room when I came home late last night. It was waiting for me on my desk, a navy blue ribbon tied around its pot. It was a rather sorry-looking thing, truth to be told, especially in comparison to the rest of the family; but I watered it and gave it the best spot by the window for a speedy recovery. This meant that I had to move Annabelle (and I suspect that it will be a while before she forgives me), but it was worth it.

Then I had knocked on Yuuta's door, just to see if he was still at home. Old habits die hard, I guess, because I have since long learnt that he always leaves to go back to his dorm and his school and his friends as soon as humanly possible. But I could at least confirm that my scrapbook (his scrapbook, our scrapbook) was no longer there. It seems that he found it, just as I had hoped, and taken it with him, just as I had wished. I think he liked it too, or he wouldn't have seen it fit to repay me with a new cactus. Though, I admit that I am surprised that he left me anything at all: does it mean anything? Is it a sign of some sort? A peace-offering, perhaps?

(Saa, who knows? I'm not going to push it. The gesture is appreciated either way.)

I almost laugh out loud, imagining Yuuta tying the ribbon around Rex's pot. 'Rex' is Latin for 'king', and I thought it would be a nice name for the malnourished thing to grow into; a little something for the both of us to look forward to.

"You're smiling like that again," points Nee-san out with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Syusuke, if I didn't know better, I'd think—"

"I just have the feeling that this is going to be a very good day," I cut in before matters get out of hand and Nee-san starts asking me about the girls in my class again.

When I have informed our sister of my gut-feeling of the day, she simply returns my smile and gently shakes her head.