All the Difference
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi, not me.
A/N: For much longer author's notes, please visit my livejournal page. Link can be found in my profile (which I've now remembered to periodically update with the status of how far along the next chapter is). I think I've finally nailed down some of the details that I was having trouble with, but I'd still be interested in hearing your thoughts on the story or Prince of Tennis in general.
Anonymous Reader Replies:
wetfish - Realistic is what I'm going for, so I'm glad you think I'm achieving that so far. I hope the story keeps meeting your expectations.
No.13 - Wow, what a compliment, considering how much I adore your stories! I was really touched by your review. Considering that these are fictional characters to begin with, I'm honored that they're coming across as real people. Relieved, too. It was challenging when I only had a handful of characters to juggle, but this chapter really pushed me to my limits.
Thanks to everyone who put this on their story alert! Even if you don't leave a review, it's nice to know there was something you liked that made you want to come back. Double thanks to those who left feedback!
Chapter Summary: The date has been set! Fuji travels to Kanagawa for his showdown with Rikkai, and unveils a "new" weapon during his first match.
Warning: This chapter is the longest yet. Thankfully, not as long as I was beginning to fear, but long.
Chapter Three: Limits
January 22, 2006
The fresh, salty aroma of sea water assaulted Fuji's nose the moment he exited the railway station. It was a familiar scent that reminded him of his early childhood, when the most serious concern he needed to worry about was whether he had remembered to apply enough sunscreen before he went splashing in the surf with his friends. Even though there would be no frolicking in the water today, the opportunity to bask in the overwhelmingly natural environment was a welcome change after spending a little under an hour to travel to Fujisawa by train. It might not have been the beaches of Chiba, but there was something soothing about being so close to the water as he walked the short distance from the station to the campus of Rikkaidai Fuzoku. He imagined it must be a pleasant journey to make on a school day, with the way thousands of students pouring into the school in the morning and reversing the trip in the evenings bore a passing resemblance to the ebb and flow of the nearby tides.
It was good fortune, Fuji decided as the school's numerous buildings grew larger as he gradually approached, that the school was practically built on top of the beach. The largest structure, what appeared to be a pair of four-story buildings joined by covered walkways on each floor located conveniently at the center of the campus, must have had a spectacular view from its rooftop. He could only imagine what it would be like to climb up there with his camera at this hour and capture the breathtaking sight of Enoshima Island off in the distance, its white lighthouse still gleaming with early morning dew. It was a pity that the angle probably wasn't equally as good to photograph the Katase River emptying into Sagami Bay.
Even though he was somewhat dressed in honor of the nearby body of water, wearing a sea-foam green hued polo under a darker green sweater paired with dark gray warm-up pants, his outfit would be serving a far different purpose than lounging at the beach. Musing about the seaside ambiance and his photography hobby had been a nice distraction, but Fuji found his thoughts circling back to the reason for his early-morning trip south of Tokyo as he neared the primary gates leading into Rikkaidai's campus. The weight of the equipment bag thumping rhythmically against his back in time with his footsteps was a steady reminder of the activities that awaited him inside the school's gates.
Before concern about how he would find the tennis courts on a campus deserted for the weekend could cross his mind, Fuji observed a tall, imposing figure standing just outside the main gate into the school. They must have noticed each other at the same time, for the young man removed his hands from his pockets and straightened even further as Fuji finished his approach.
"Sanada-kun, good morning. I hope you weren't waiting long," Fuji greeted.
"Fuji," Sanada said, acknowledging Fuji in a clipped tone. "It wasn't any hardship. You arrived earlier than we asked. I take it you didn't have any difficulties on your trip?"
"No, none at all," Fuji answered. The two passed through a small portion of the gate that had been slid over to allow entrance. Once the other boy closed the gate behind them, he had no choice but to match Sanada's quick pace as he led Fuji through the middle school portion of the Rikkaidai campus. They passed the large classroom complex he had admired on his walk without any comment from Sanada. Clearly, the focus today was not on academics. The time for a full tour would come much later...if the activity on the tennis courts went well.
"The commute was a little longer than I'm used to, but it's not something I think I would have a problem with." Sanada nodded, but otherwise continued silently leading Fuji a short distance from the entrance where the tennis courts were located. Fuji followed his example and squashed the urge to make further small talk.
Even though a tall brick wall surrounding the campus blocked it from sight, a brisk sea breeze served as a constant reminder of the nearby water. For a fleeting moment, Fuji wished he could take comfort in the familiar weight of his Seigaku jersey. Although it might have helped to block the chill, he had left it at home. In light of the reason he was playing tennis today, he decided it was a necessary concession. It still felt like a small betrayal, as if he had already abandoned Seigaku and exposed how vulnerable he was. The white, blue and red jersey was so important to the members of the tennis club. Fuji was proud for having earned his in his first year, during the first ranking tournament following the retirement of the third year sempai from club activities. He had proven he deserved to keep it with every tournament that followed, and he hadn't quite realized how accustomed he was to wearing it until he left the house without it.
It was undeniable that wearing it today would have sent the wrong message about his intentions for coming. Everyone that would be playing (or watching) was probably already aware that he was a Seigaku regular, but shoving it in their faces would be counterproductive.
Not that the Rikkai club members were worried about the effect their uniform would have on him. The predominantly yellow jersey proudly hanging from Sanada's shoulders was hard to miss. As they approached a fenced complex containing multiple courts, Fuji could see several more people identically dressed in the Rikkai uniform. Since there were only three on the courts, Fuji assumed they were also Regulars. It could have been a dangerous assumption to make, since even the pre-Regulars wore the same uniform as the members that competed on a regular basis. Seigaku was rather unique in the point of pride they bestowed on their Regulars by reserving a special uniform for them.
"Do you need to dress out?" Sanada suddenly asked, interrupting Fuji's silent musings. He shook his head negatively. Sanada then proceeded down a set of steps that led to the gated courts dug deep into the ground. "That building," he explained, pointing to a two-story building on the opposite side of the courts, "is the team's clubhouse. The first floor has lockers, showers and areas where the players can change. The second floor holds weight training facilities and other stationary exercise equipment, as well as several cages with pitching machines for when conditions don't allow training outside. The equipment is unofficially reserved for the team's Regulars, and in return we are expected to use the equipment to its full potential." Fuji nodded thoughtfully, noting with interest the power wrist weight that was revealed when Sanada's jersey sleeve slid back from lifting his arm. It was another example of how seriously Rikkai treated their tennis program that their training regiment was so strict year-round.
He wondered if Rikkai expected their team members to wear the weights around the clock too. Seigaku also used wrist and ankle weights to help the students increase their strength, speed and stamina, but Fuji would draw the line if anyone ever asked him to wear them to bed.
Sanada and Fuji watched the three players engaged in a two-on-one warm-up rally without any attempt to interrupt. Fuji identified the lone player as the young boy that had been visiting Yukimura in the hospital - Akaya-kun. He was doing an admirable job defending against a clearly older boy wearing glasses and a shorter boy with shockingly red hair in a pageboy cut. Even though he didn't say so, Fuji had the feeling that Sanada approved of their effort. He strode forward, calling them out by name. "Akaya! Marui! Yagyu!" As if it had been choreographed beforehand, the three lowered their rackets and walked over to form a line in front of Sanada.
Something appeared to be upsetting Sanada. He eyed the line, or rather a gap in the line, distastefully. "Where is Nioh?" Sanada demanded to know. The boy wearing glasses lifted his shoulders so slightly that the movement barely qualified as a shrug, but the intention was the same. "He's late," was the only answer any of the trio could offer.
Sanada muttered something under his breath, inaudible for all present to hear, then introduced their guest. "This is Fuji."
Fuji smiled and bowed to the group. "I hope we'll work well together." When he rose, Sanada was watching him expectantly.
"How much time will you need to warm up?" Fuji lowered his equipment bag to the ground and considered the question with a tilt of his head. "Probably not long. I was up early for a run and kept my legs moving during the train ride, so I shouldn't need much to loosen them back up. It won't take long to get my arms ready."
"Good. The rest of the team should be ready in about ten minutes. You can do a rally on one of the courts until then..." Akaya rocked forward on the balls of his feet, his mouth opening with the intention of demanding that Fuji warm-up against him, but Sanada calmly blocked him by belatedly tacking "with Yagyu" onto his instructions. Akaya whined under his breath, but the redhead poked him with his racket until they had resumed their earlier rally on one of the courts.
Fuji followed Yagyu onto an adjacent court after he removed one racket from his bag, running through some stretches for his biceps and triceps as they walked. "I appreciate your help."
"It's not a problem. We all would like to see you do your best against Akaya." There was something subtly condescending in the tone that Fuji had trouble placing...until he realized that Yagyu doubted he would be able to keep up with Akaya-kun's skill level. As they fell into a comfortable pace of hitting the ball Yagyu had retrieved, Fuji's grin tightened. These Rikkai players were amazing. He didn't think he had ever met a group of people that ignited his competitive instincts quite like them. Losing a tennis match had never upset him in the past. Granted, it happened infrequently and usually only when he played doubles, but he had always found comfort in knowing that he played his best.
He found he was quite unhappy about being underestimated. Merely playing his best would not be enough today - he wanted to win.
The two exchanged little chatter during their rally, although Fuji did learn that the other boy was exceedingly polite and a student council member. There was some banter drifting from the other court, where Akaya-kun seemed to be teasing Marui about how being a tensai wasn't anything special if he could crush him so easily and Marui retaliated by threatening to share how easily Akaya could get crushed by a girl. Fuji wondered what the story behind that taunt was.
Shortly before the ten minute period Sanada allotted for Fuji to warm-up expired, he noticed two people maneuvering down one of the set of steps with a bench between them. Fuji recognized the first person as Yanagi. Yagyu introduced the tall dark-skinned companion helping him carry the bench as Jackal.
"Yanagi-sempai, what's that for?" Akaya called out once the pair had lowered the bench into a position near the fence that was meant to keep it out of the path of any stray balls. "Didn't fukubuchou say that sitting down to watch a game only promoted laziness?"
Said fukubuchou had approached soon enough to hear Akaya's question, but the serene voice that answered came from slightly behind him. "Sanada insisted that I have something to rest on while I observe today's matches. How troublesome of me, right?"
"Buchou!" Fuji bit his lip to conceal a chuckle as Marui struggled to hold Akaya back from tackling their fragile captain. The tennis ace had gotten so excited by the surprise appearance that he accidentally smacked the redhead's face, resulting in a tense moment where he almost choked on his gum until Jackal rushed over to restrain Akaya for him.
"Oi, Jackal! Why didn't you warn me?" Marui complained, rubbing his throat where the gum had threatened to clog up his windpipe. "You know the brat is dangerous when he gets excited!"
"I didn't know either!" Jackal protested. "I just found out when I saw him sitting in the clubhouse."
"Maybe you should've kept your eyes open a little more," a new voice drawled. Slouched against the fence behind the rest of the team, the final member of the Rikkai Regulars smirked at the still sputtering Marui.
"Nioh!" Sanada took a step forward with his hand raised, but froze when Yukimura lightly touched his back. "Sanada, that can wait until later. Perhaps we should start the matches?" The fukubuchou nodded and Akaya leapt onto the court. Yukimura dipped his head in greeting. "I hope you don't mind that we promised Akaya the first match. After that, we can give you a different taste of what our team has to offer. Is that alright?"
Fuji nodded, expecting as much. Facing Akaya first was a test in itself. The other members of the team might have expected Fuji to have trouble with their first year ace, but Yukimura expected more. If (for whatever reason) Yukimura was wrong about his skill level and Akaya proved too difficult for him to handle, Fuji didn't doubt that he would politely be sent on his way from Rikkai.
He followed Akaya's earlier path out to the net at a more sedate pace, wincing when there was a mild commotion behind him as everyone scrambled to position themselves around the newly placed bench. When Fuji turned back, a wall of yellow and black greeted him. Yukimura was seated in the middle of the bench, Yanagi to his right and Marui perched on his left. Sanada hovered behind Yukimura protectively, while Jackal and Yagyu watched the court attentively from behind Yanagi. The latecomer Nioh was using Marui's head as an armrest, either oblivious or deliberately ignoring the way Sanada looked like he wanted to slap him. (Not for the first time, he wondered exactly how Nioh managed to get to the tennis courts since Sanada locked the gate behind them when they entered.)
Violent tendencies and bewildering mysteries aside, the group formed a heartwarming picture that strongly reminded Fuji of a family. All it was missing was a child - who he realized was waiting for him to begin the match. Fuji turned to Akaya, feeling a coil of excitement wrap around his heart when he was greeted head-on by bright green eyes. "Did you do your homework, Akaya-kun?"
The eagerness in the boy's eyes briefly dimmed before he realized that Fuji was referring to their conversation back in the hospital. "Yanagi-sempai told me all about your little counter-moves." Akaya insisted confidently. "You won't be able to beat me with just those tricks."
"Is that so?" Fuji asked. He was pleased that, in his own way, Akaya was taking this match seriously. "Then, you still think this will be a quick game?" Akaya had boasted that he could beat the tensai in fifteen minutes. Fuji would prefer a long, thrilling match that forced him to stretch himself, but today he would only be a little disappointed if the game was that short so long as he came out the winner.
"Of course it will!"
Fuji chuckled. "Then why don't you pick which side for the toss?"
Akaya didn't even hesitate. "Rough."
Fuji spun the racket and smiled indulgently when he saw which way it fell. "Rough it is."
Akaya took his position behind the baseline and gripped a tennis ball in his hand. "You better be ready, tensai-san, 'cuz here I go!"
The serve wasn't particularly special, but it did force Fuji to dash forward to intercept and return it. The point quickly devolved into a challenge to see whose speed was greater. Over on the Rikkai bench, Marui jerked forward to try and dislodge Nioh's arm. Yagyu glanced over at their antics, then redirected his attention to the match. "It should be interesting to see how long Fuji-kun's counter-attacks can hold out against Akaya's aggressive play style. It's a pity he prefers to answer the pace of his opponents rather than control the offense."
"Sure about that, Yag~yu?" Nioh asked, drawing out the name of his occasional doubles partner. "Take a closer look. Fuji is the one attacking."
The majority of the Rikkai bench was astonished that Nioh was correct. Both players were hitting balls that forced the other to sprint to the opposite corner of the court, but Fuji remained calm and composed in his movements. Akaya, in comparison, nearly fell over his feet as he attempted to reach one ball. The hiccup in his stride opened up the chance for Fuji to smash and score the first point.
Akaya stared at his feet as if they betrayed him, then up at Fuji. "Not bad," he muttered. He wasted no time in launching his second serve, resuming the speed battle. As they fell into a familiar rhythm, Akaya decided to take the initiative to disrupt the flow. Without warning, he sliced the ball to the diagonal court. Fuji hit it back with an audible twang against the gut of his racket. Before Akaya could approach, the ball hopped across the net and soared high into the air. "What was that supposed to be?" he asked. Fuji merely smiled as the ball suddenly sank directly onto the baseline and bounced back past Akaya's head and into Fuji's waiting hand.
"Triple Counter," Fuji announced proudly, "Hakugei."
The reactions on the Rikkai bench were varied. "Yanagi, was that the one you were missing?" Yukimura calmly asked.
"Yes," the team's data player answered. "Fascinating the way he used the natural air current to add to the ball's spin."
"Wait..." Jackal interrupted incredulously. "He used the wind to do that? How is that possible? There's barely a breeze!"
Nioh whistled, impressed, and thumped Marui on the shoulder. "Now that is genius-like!" Marui retorted with an annoyed "Shut up, Nioh," and another attempt to shake the Trickster off his head.
Back on the court, Akaya was too gobsmacked to brush off his shock with a smart-aleck comment. He bounced the ball in preparation to serve, then dashed forward. Fuji met him halfway and they exchanged a brief rally that ended with a well-timed drop shot from Fuji.
Akaya was starting to shake. That annoying guy had stolen three points from him in practically no time. For as excited as he was to initially discover that Yukimura was observing today's practice, Akaya now desperately wished that buchou was resting at home. To lose that badly to some no-name from a second-tier school was embarrassing. He had to retake control.
Fuji caught Akaya's explosive serve and fell back into the rhythm of the first two points. When Akaya appeared to once again stumble, Fuji aimed a cross-court shot outside of Akaya's reach. However, the ace smirked. "Idiot, that was a fake!" Akaya pivoted and was instantly behind the ball, thanks to a one-foot split step. He hit the ball with a powerful slice, certain that he had won the point.
"Triple Counter, Hakugei," Fuji announced again, catching up to the ball and applying the super backspin that would influence its unusual movement.
"That again?" Akaya lifted his racket and swung as the ball began to travel back to Fuji. "Bye-bye, tensai-san," he taunted while smashing the ball back to Fuji.
But Fuji wasn't done yet. He calmly raised his racket and spun around into a crouch, sending the ball flying over Akaya's head where it eventually landed on the baseline. Fuji rose, a wry smile on his lips. "Triple Counter, Higuma Otoshi," he explained.
Sanada's voice boomed across the court. "Game, Fuji. One game to love. Change court."
"What is this guy?" Akaya muttered. His chest shuddered as he inhaled gulp after gulp of air. Even after all the advice he had received from Yanagi-sempai about Fuji's recorded play style, he hadn't expected to have this much trouble with the tensai. He had thought about letting Fuji score a few points, just to make it look like he stood a chance. Instead, the guy was turning out to be as tricky as Nioh-sempai. Fuji had warned him about the dangers of underestimating your opponent back when they first met. Akaya hadn't taken that advice to heart, and now he was paying for it.
"Akaya's serve was immediately broken," Yanagi observed. "His pride won't handle that insult well."
"Yeah," Jackal agreed. "It looks like Akaya's eyes are becoming bloodshot. We might need to worry about whether Fuji will walk away in one piece."
As the weight of the humiliation settled into his mind, the whites of Akaya's eyes were indeed turning red. He snarled and kicked the post as he passed by, falling prey to his temper.
"What bad manners. I'm surprised."
Akaya unleashed the full power of his red gaze onto Fuji, who calmly matched it. "I will crush you," Akaya vowed. The only people allowed to beat him in tennis were the Big Three, and that was only until he was strong enough to take them on. Countering specialist or not, he would not stand to be beaten by anyone else.
When Fuji stepped to the baseline and prepared his serve, comments again broke out on the Rikkai bench. "Is he for real? Using an underhand serve against Akaya?" Marui asked. Their disgust at the seemingly weak serve turned to amazement when the ball appeared to vanish and reappear behind Akaya. Fuji persisted using the disappearing serve throughout his service game. He managed another service ace before Akaya was finally able to mark it correctly for a return. Merely returning it wasn't enough, since Fuji unveiled his third Triple Counter, Tsubame Gaeshi, to score the third point of the game.
Fuji was impressed with the way Akaya's speed and power had dramatically increased in the wake of his unusual eye condition. That 'bloodshot' mode made him an even more dangerous opponent, but not impossible to overcome. Against a lesser opponent, Akaya's decision to wait for the ball to bounce in his court and then take advantage of his extra power to smash it for a point might have worked. But Fuji was no ordinary player. He answered power with power, smashing the ball past Akaya to score his final point of the second game.
"I'm not sure I believe it." Yagyu pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. "Akaya is being overpowered offensively."
Akaya couldn't believe it either. This was not how the match was supposed to go. Buchou was still outwardly smiling, but he must have been disappointed in the way he was playing. He would definitely get control of the game, especially now that it was back to his service game. Eager to make Fuji share in his pain, Akaya unleashed his knuckle serve.
Again, Fuji defied his expectations. Anticipating that Akaya's play style might take an aggressive turn after his earlier outburst, he stepped so he would be squarely under the ball to return it before it could strike his body. Akaya didn't even attempt to keep the ball in play since he hadn't expected the serve to be returned so quickly and easily. He silently vowed he wouldn't make the same mistake a second time. The knuckle serve was again returned, leading to a brief rally while Akaya attempted to set up a drop shot to score a point. Fuji read his movements and approached the net in synch with Akaya, successfully lobbing it behind the frustrated teen and out of his reach.
"He has absolutely no openings!" Akaya gave a few practice swings of his racket to relieve his mounting tension. If Fuji could read the trick behind the knuckle serve, he would have to overwhelm him with brute force instead and create his own chance balls. He assumed the same stance he used for the knuckle serve, hoping it would lead Fuji into making a false expectation, then launched a flat serve with every ounce of power he could wring from his arm. The tensai still managed to move into position to receive it and, eventually, took the point by hitting it with pinpoint precision just out of Akaya's reach.
Akaya wasn't the only one feeling the strain of the match. Fuji's breathing had quickened considerably and he could feel beads of sweat collecting on the back of his collar despite the cool temperature. Thankfully, it was easy to ignore the physical discomfort in favor of focusing on what to expect next from Akaya-kun. Tennis was as much a mental sport as it was physical. While Akaya's physical prowess had received a boost from this ruthless tint to his personality, it had the unfortunate side effect of making his actions easier to predict. That was why, despite Akaya's tactical use of a one-foot split step to lob the ball into Fuji's court, he was still able to volley it to the opposite corner out of the other player's reach.
"Game, Fuji. Three games to love." Sanada's voice was oddly devoid of judgment. If he was unhappy with the current score, he hid it well. "Change court." The remaining observers clustered around the bench watched the two swap court ends quietly, most wondering how the score had gotten so lopsided to Akaya's detriment.
Fuji was just as surprised by his domination of the match. He rarely felt the need to block his opponent from scoring a single point, yet he had done exactly that for three games in a row now. His usual play style allowed his opponents to gauge the skill level he was playing at, then forced them to stretch to meet him. It usually meant that he would insert certain patterns into his movements, leaving it to the other player to recognize the repetitious techniques and find a way past them. There was something thrilling about watching an opponent grow before his eyes, all the while knowing that he had helped to draw that evolution out of them.
As Fuji twisted his wrist in preparation for another disappearing serve, he recognized that using the same techniques over and over today was not intended to trigger growth within Akaya's tennis. Instead, it was as if Fuji was rewinding a tape and letting the same video clip play in a loop. The glow of frustration in Akaya's eyes burned even hotter as Fuji managed to answer Akaya's split step with a volley that sent the ball just outside of his reach. It was a nearly perfect replication of the previous point. Perhaps this was why he lacked the motivation to achieve victory - repetition became boring when the game was stagnant. Fuji could feel his interest begin to wane. Akaya had awesome potential, but it seemed they both suffered from an inability to break through the ceiling to reach new heights.
"I've found an opening!"
Akaya's abrupt scream was the only warning Fuji had to pull himself out of his thoughts before he felt himself crashing to the ground. He groaned, clutching the back of his head where the tennis ball had collided with it. It had been pure reflex to protect his face that caused him to turn as far as he did, once he saw the way Akaya had directed the ball on an inevitable collision course with his body. Underneath the haze of the throbbing pain, Fuji found himself unwillingly impressed. That smash was more powerful than he assumed Akaya-kun was capable of hitting.
"Akaya!" Sanada roared. Even in bloodshot mode, Akaya knew that he had pushed the fukubuchou to the edge of what behavior he deemed acceptable. The law of Rikkai may have been that defeat was not allowed, but there was an important exception to the cost of victory - teammates should never be deliberately injured. Technically Fuji wasn't part of their team, but they all understood that he was to be treated as such for the purpose of the exercise today. But it felt good to see the annoying tensai on the ground after finally scoring a point. It had really galled him the way Fuji looked like he needed less and less effort to keep up with him. If he could get away with it, he wouldn't mind seeing the Seigaku student on his knees again.
Fuji immediately clenched his eyes shut after briefly blinking them open. His whole head was still vibrating from the force of the blow. Massaging his forehead with one hand, he stretched out the other and swept his fingers along the ground to search for his racket. It was a little embarrassing to get hit by the tennis ball, even though he was certain that Akaya was aiming for him. He'd rather get up and continue the game before any of the observers could inquire about injuries. Fuji pushed himself to his knees, then gradually stood to his full height. First, though, he wanted to look Akaya eye-to-eye and prove that playing dangerously wouldn't intimidate him. He...
Fuji blinked his eyes. They were open, weren't they? He blinked them again, just to be sure. He could feel the faint tickling of his eyelashes brushing against his hand as he opened and closed his lids. Throughout the rapid eye movement, a perpetual gloom shrouded his vision. This was not the impenetrable darkness of the night sky absent the twinkling lights of stars high overhead - it was more of an opaque gray, as if he was caught in a thick bank of fog. He continued blinking, hoping to clear the sickly color from his sight, but it stubbornly persisted.
I...I can't see.
The thought struck hard and fast like a blow to the gut rather than the head. He had never been one to suffer from claustrophobia, but the suffocating blindness triggered a roiling panic that he struggled not to react to. This was terrible. He had made the mistake of lowering his guard, and as a result his vision was impaired. There was no way of knowing how long he would be in this condition. The logical course of action would be to let his hosts know of his sudden disability so that they could stop the game. Surely, no one would blame him for stopping prematurely if he was incapable of seeing how his opponent was moving or where the ball was coming from.
However, there was a spark deep within Fuji's competitive spirit he couldn't ignore that was urging him to continue playing anyway. On a superficial level, he hated to look weak. Forfeiting the match, even for a legitimate reason, would be too much like giving up. He would feel ashamed of not pushing himself until the last point was decided, even if he never returned another of Akaya's shots. He owed Yukimura that much as well, for making an extraordinary gesture of faith in his potential.
Fuji was also driven by the knowledge that he had passed the point of no return by coming to Rikkai today. It might stay quiet for a little while, but eventually the news of his trip and Yukimura's offer would trickle back to his teammates. He imagined that the betrayal they felt would be immense, both for entertaining the idea of abandoning them as well as not trusting them enough to share his plans with them.
No, Fuji had no choice but to continue. Since he had come this far, he would finish the match one way or another. As long as he took it one step at a time, he should be fine. Fuji once joked that they practiced serving so much that he could do it in his sleep. He would get a chance - somewhat - to test that theory now. Standing a bit behind where he thought the baseline was located, Fuji slipped a ball out of his pocket and prepared a straightforward slice serve. At least he could be thankful that his hair was loose enough to block the worst of the unfocused haze in his eyes from the view of the Rikkai bench.
"What kind of serve is that?" Akaya mocked, wasting no time in smashing the ball past Fuji. The tensai maintained a neutral expression, even as a second and third point were similarly scored against his weakened serve.
Akaya smirked victoriously, but the prevailing mood of the observers was one of confusion. After Fuji had decisively dominated the first three games, it seemed absurd for him to have his service game broken so easily. "That brat," Marui said lightly, "he was just holding back after all. I can't believe he made us worry like that." Nioh agreed with a smug "Puri".
In the center of the group, Yukimura's smile darkened.
On the court, the tables had turned. Akaya led with his knuckle serve, clipping Fuji in the shoulder on the first serve. Fuji managed to dodge the second shot and swing his racket, but it was wildly off the mark. "What's wrong, tensai-san?" Akaya taunted. "Can't you hit the ball anymore?" Fuji gritted his teeth and prepared for the next serve. He fingers clenched with excitement when he felt the ball bump the rim of his racket, but there was no power behind the movement. The sound of the ball bouncing off to his right was a grim reminder that the game would go nowhere unless he could hit it back across the net at a decent angle. Or rather any angle at all, considering he was forced to dodge another knuckle serve lest he risk adding to his injury.
As the two changed courts, Fuji kept his head down and eyes closed. It was his service game again, and he needed to form some type of strategy that would keep him from getting blown away. Akaya was consistently returning the disappearing serve now, so that wasn't an option. Using another ball from his pocket, he decided to start with a flat serve. He could tell by Akaya's reaction that it cleared the net as tightly as he had hoped, but it wasn't good enough for a service ace. "That doesn't have nearly the speed that Yanagi-sempai's serve does!" Akaya called out as he returned it.
Fuji jogged over to where he heard the ball hit the fence and managed to pick it up without fumbling too badly. He tossed the ball into the air, switching back to a familiar topspin slice. Akaya found that serve to be less than threatening. "What are you, a beginner?" he said mockingly. Fuji felt a rush of air as the ball was smashed past him. He wondered if the miss was intentional or if he was just lucky not to have been hit again. Fuji's next flat serve was followed by the sound of the ball dropping in front of the net. Without his sight, he had no idea that Akaya intended to score the point with a drop shot. Again, he managed to retrieve the ball based on where he thought he heard it land.
Fuji gave the flat serve one more shot, hoping he could imbue it with enough power to make it past Akaya. He heard it bounce, then a lull that seemed to stretch forever. He was starting to feel his hopes rise that he had finally scored a point when the tell-tale thump of the ball slapping against racket strings echoed around the court. Fuji had no way of knowing, but Akaya had waited until the ball approached the baseline on its bounce, resulting in a high ball that he could once again smash. Fuji had no chance of keeping up with it.
"Game, Kirihara. Three games all."
"So, he couldn't hold out against Akaya after all." Yagyu declared after Sanada announced the score. "Pity, but that's the consequence of a serious match."
Yukimura rested a finger on his chin. "Yanagi, what do you think?" The data master sighed before responding. "Something is not right." Yukimura nodded, silently agreeing. He had thought something was wrong when Fuji started suddenly playing with such timidity in his second service game. Before he was struck by the tennis ball, he had been dominating the match. It logically followed that the downturn in his playing was related to Akaya's attack. He may not have known Fuji through much else than reputation, but Yukimura doubted he was the type to give into fear from a little physical contact.
If he had been Fuji's opponent, it might not have been so strange for the tensai to fall apart so dramatically. His teammates had assured him on more than one occasion that the yips he inspired (when every effort his opponents made proved utterly futile against his flawless tennis) were devastating. Akaya was still a child. He would not be able to create that same aura of hopelessness. Therefore, the problem was with Fuji. Yukimura wondered if Fuji was breaking his word after all and treating the match with Akaya as penance for the injury to Tezuka that he still believed he was responsible for worsening.
Akaya rested his racket on his shoulder and smirked knowingly. "You're doing pretty well, Fuji-san, considering you can't see."
The reaction on the Rikkai bench was immediate. Sanada narrowed his eyes while the other two-thirds of the Big Three felt the missing piece of the puzzle slide into place. Nioh and Yagyu held their chins thoughtfully in eerie synchronization on opposite ends of the bench. The bubble Marui had been blowing popped outward as he waved a hand at the court. "Is Akaya serious? Can Fuji really not see anything right now?"
Jackal hummed thoughtfully before answering his friend. "He did get hit in the head pretty hard...it's possible." Sanada snorted. "It's foolish. There's no point in playing a match against a crippled opponent." The fukubuchou folded his arms across his chest and raised his voice to be more easily heard. "Fuji, Akaya! This match is over."
"No!"
Whether it was because they couldn't imagine trying to play tennis while blind or because someone dared to argue with a direct order by Sanada, there was a collective feeling of confusion in the wake of Fuji's outburst. The tensai was mentally kicking himself for having missed the biggest obstacle in his strategy. Even if he could conceal his flawed vision from the spectators until (and assuming if) he could see again, Akaya was too close to fool. He had been aware of how serious Fuji's handicap was the whole time. It would have been easy to give in to the overwhelming frustration he felt and toss his racket to the ground or throw a temper tantrum like Akaya had earlier by kicking the ground, but that wouldn't soothe the raging need that had been ignited.
He wanted to play this match. No, it was more than that. He wanted to win today. He knew with certainty that he had not reached his limit yet, and it was about time he pushed himself to see how far his abilities could stretch. It was a new thrill that he wanted to experience - rather than focus on drawing out his opponent's potential, he could concentrate on his own. The desperation to finish this match, regardless of the outcome, filled Fuji with a drive that he hadn't experienced since Tezuka accepted his offer to play that unsanctioned match against him over a year ago. He wondered if this impulse was what motivated Tezuka to play that day despite the pain in his elbow - this certainty that he would miss out on an amazing experience if he walked away.
"Yukimura-kun, I made a promise to you and Akaya-kun that I would play without holding back. I can still reach farther, and I do not want to break my word by giving up now." Despite his inability to see, his eyes seemed to pierce into those of his audience. "I will not allow myself to forfeit this match!"
The mention of fulfilling a promise to Yukimura resonated in the hearts of the entire Rikkai team. From where he was still standing on the court, Akaya swallowed hard. In one sense, his attack had been a way to keep his promise to Yukimura - the promise that their team would remain undefeated until he could return. He couldn't afford to lose today, so he had acted out of instinct to insure his victory. At the same time, he didn't really want to be the reason that someone else disappointed buchou.
Yukimura smiled demurely, as if hearing Akaya's thoughts. He was pleased with the willingness of both players to endure their respective hardships. "You heard Fuji-kun, Akaya. Please continue the match."
Fuji bowed his head in thanks and walked back to the area he thought he had the best chance to hit a return. As he waited, Akaya debated how he should approach the game. Now that Fuji's impaired condition was common knowledge, he would be chastised for playing too aggressively. Or maybe not...Fuji had claimed that he wanted to play without holding back. If that was the case, Akaya would honor his wishes and play his tennis style without restraints.
"Here I go!" he warned, throwing up his knuckle serve. Fuji stepped into the area he heard the bounce and thumped the ball squarely with his racket. A moment later, he heard the ball hit the net and roll back to his feet. He had been so close to returning it! If he had been able to center the ball on his racket a little more, it might have cleared the net. Hope blossoming anew, Fuji crouched down and listened for the next serve. Like the previous serve, he dashed to where he heard the bounce and swung his racket. The sound of the ball bouncing in Akaya's court was only slightly sweeter than Sanada's announcement that the score was now fifteen-all.
Akaya blinked. "He returned it?" He shook his head and retrieved a ball for his next serve. "No way," he muttered to himself. "It was just a fluke."
Except Fuji managed to hit his next serve. Akaya wasn't as surprised as he had been the first time it happened and managed to tap it back across the net. Eyes closed, Fuji waited for it to bounce and used a strong groundstroke to knock it past Akaya. "That's not possible," Akaya said, voice shaking. "It's one thing to hit a serve without looking, but to hit a return without being able to see...it's impossible!" Rather than rely on his knuckle serve, Akaya decided to try and use a flat serve to get the ball past Fuji before he realized where it was, but Fuji caught up to it with a slice that caused the ball to bump the lip of the net and then drop onto the ground.
Only one point from having his serve broken again, Akaya began to freak. A fresh wave of blood flooded his eyes. He would wipe that composed expression off Fuji's face. Despite his shock every time Fuji managed to hit the ball back to him, Akaya persisted in an unusually long rally that ended when he finally succeeded in beating the tensai's speed. Akaya had every intention to repeat his successful strategy from the last point, but in his haste he misstepped and Fuji managed to hit another slice past him.
"Unbelievable," Marui exclaimed. "How can someone who can't see be able to play like that?"
"He's using his other senses to compensate and accurately return it," Yanagi explained. "Primarily, he is listening and feeling the very presence of the ball as it approaches him."
Jackal shook his head. "Who knew there was a sleeping tensai like him at Seigaku?"
Sanada's eyes flickered down to the top of Yukimura's head. He suspected that their captain knew exactly what Fuji was capable of. He had a nose for sniffing out untapped potential. Every member of the Rikkai team owed their development, at least in part, to their relentless buchou. When Yukimura reassured him that he knew what he was doing by inviting a member of a rival school to train with them in such an intimate setting, he trusted Yukimura's foresight and worked diligently to make it a reality. There had been some doubt, which only grew when he suspected Fuji was deliberately wasting his potential after his game fell apart against Akaya, but Yukimura's insight had been correct after all. Sanada could not help but respect Fuji's tenacity to honor his commitments.
Fuji appeared composed on the outside, but internally he was thrumming with elation. He was actually doing it - playing tennis at a level he never thought he would reach. He twisted his wrist in preparation for his specialty underhand serve, but in the opposite direction than usual. The result was a bounce that was different than his earlier disappearing serve, surprising Akaya who had expected it to behave the same way it had before. Fuji switched back to a topspin serve to start off his next point, his smile blossoming a little more with every ball he volleyed back to Akaya. The limits he thought he had...they didn't exist. As long as he could feel the ball, he could control the entire game. It was intoxicating.
Down thirty-love, Akaya was getting jittery again. "This guy...I can't lose to him!" The next time the ball came flying at him, Akaya scraped the rim of his racket across the court surface before swinging up into a lob. The noise disoriented Fuji enough that he missed the return. Thinking that he had found the tensai's Achilles heel, Akaya made certain that he created even more noise before he hit a lob on the next point. Fuji, however, anticipated the lob this time. He stepped back, then stretched his arm over his head so that he could smash it past Akaya to reach match point.
"Amazing. Akaya couldn't even confuse Fuji with that sound for more than one point." Yagyu nodded in agreement with Marui. "It was one-sided for so long, but this match has truly developed into a fierce battle. Fuji-kun is only one game away from taking the win."
Akaya rubbed his dripping forehead, then dried his hand on the leg of his warm-up pants. Everything he had done to this point - joining Rikkai, defeating the third year sempai, challenging the Big Three and working fiercely to overcome them - all of it felt like it would be a waste if he lost today. This serve...he couldn't afford to let it be broken again. Using brute force, Akaya launched the ball into play and dashed forward. The rally was swift and harsh, but his perseverance paid off as he pushed past Fuji to take an early lead.
Fuji quickly retaliated. With pinpoint precision he returned the ball to one baseline corner, then the opposite for two consecutive points. Relying on his split step, Akaya managed to reach the next ball and hit it faster than Fuji could catch up to make the score thirty-all. Akaya, you really have amazing mental strength, Fuji thought to himself. If I am going to take this win and rise to a higher level, I'll have to snap your concentration and take complete control of the pace...
"...now! Tsubame Gaeshi!"
Akaya's eyes widened as he remembered what effect that special move had. "It doesn't bounce," he muttered. "I'll just have to hit it before it lands!" Akaya trained his eyes on the ball above as he executed a flawless lob. Satisfaction turned to horror when he looked back to Fuji, who had approached the net and had his arm extended back for a smash. "Damn it, that was just a decoy! He did it again! Can't I surpass my limits?" he cried desperately.
"I've never seen Akaya play like this," Jackal commented. The team watched as Akaya ran backwards and then spun into a crouch. His racket flew out to the side and propelled the smash back over Fuji's head to hit near the baseline. Fuji stood still, cocking his head in confusion.
What had caught Fuji's attention did not go unnoticed on the Rikkai bench. "Was that...one of Fuji's Triple Counters?"
"The Higuma Otoshi," Yanagi confirmed. "More importantly, Seiichi, Genichiroh...do you see it? Akaya's bloodshot eyes have disappeared." Had he been able to see at the moment, Fuji would have noticed exactly what piqued the interest of the observers - Akaya's gaze was as empty as his own.
Fuji was curious about something else. Had Akaya-kun really managed to perform one of his counters? On the next point, he matched the pace Akaya set until an opportunity arose for him to smash again. Just as before, Akaya unconsciously spun into the stance to execute the Higuma Otoshi. The problem with copying the skills of others is that they are usually aware of their own weaknesses. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Fuji was sprinting back to the baseline. Already in position, it was easy for him to apply a backspin to his return shot and force a deuce.
Akaya automatically prepared his next serve. Rushing to the front, he applied a spin to Fuji's return so that it bounced irregularly and out of his reach. The advantage belonged to him, the server. "I've never seen Akaya play like this," Nioh remarked. "What's going on in his head?"
"Game, Kirihara. Four games to five. Change court." Sanada paused, delighted by how much their rookie was surprising him with each point he took. "Win this game, Akaya!" he ordered. From his position in front of him, Yukimura chuckled. It was amusing how much Sanada secretly liked Akaya and the ways that favoritism manifested.
As he passed by the net, Fuji was wondering why Akaya's movements had suddenly changed. It was unlike anything he'd ever witnessed another player do, almost as if he wasn't consciously controlling his actions. If that was the case, trying to predict his movements or lure him into using a certain response would be futile. Fuji would need to have absolute faith in his instincts. When Akaya responded to his first serve with another ball laden with irregular spin, Fuji didn't worry about how all of his counters had been overcome at some point in the match and hit another Tsubame Gaeshi anyway. His faith was rewarded, as Akaya couldn't reach it before it entered its glide. Instincts couldn't protect him from everything. Fuji was barely able to counter a shot with extremely high speed, but Akaya sealed the point by following up with a drop shot Fuji wasn't prepared to answer.
"Fifteen all. But just now, didn't that look like Yagyu's Laser Beam?" Jackal asked.
"It's not just Fuji-kun," Yagyu remarked. "Akaya is using techniques from all of us, perhaps from any opponent he's ever faced." Marui's indignant squawk, with perhaps a hint of pride, was further evidence that the rookie had copied another of their special skills. Fuji scooped up the ball that had just fallen into his court after bouncing off the pole of the net and walked back to the serving position.
"Muga no Kyouchi," Sanada explained. When half of his team remained puzzled (and Yanagi and Yukimura made no attempt to assist), he elaborated. "Akaya has achieved the state of self-actualization. His body is reacting based on memories from past experiences before he can think about it. To achieve that perfect state means that he has overcome his limits."
But he wasn't the only one still evolving. Fuji was finding new ways of mixing his Triple Counters with the simpler aspects of his play style to score points. Sometimes it worked, like how he successfully lobbed over Akaya's head after he hit the Hakugei on its reverse bounce. Other times, such as when he miscalculated whether the Tsubame Gaeshi could be reached after a long bout of intricate footwork, meant that he ended up losing the point.
That last mistake was especially costly. "It's Akaya's break point," Yanagi noted. "He's carrying the pressure well."
"So is Fuji-kun," was Yukimura's only response.
Fuji was holding Akaya in a quickly-paced rally. Both had been pushed to the baseline, forcing the other to run back and forth between the opposite ends of the court. Picturing the court in his mind, Fuji shifted the angle of his racket downward. There was no room for a mistake here. His only choice was to follow through with the arm stroke he planned. He held his breath when he clearly heard the sound of the ball smacking into the thick material at the top of the net.
"Deuce!" Sanada called. Fuji clenched his fist victoriously. Aiming for a cord ball was tricky with his sight, but doing it blind had been a pure gamble that (thankfully) paid off.
Fuji led off the next point with a serve and volley, which Akaya again countered with a speed slice. ("Kamaitachi!" Yanagi identified.) Before it could fly out of reach, he rushed to the net and caught it with an unanswered passing stroke.
Somehow, he had finally made it to match point. It was a spectacular sight as Fuji's disappearing serve was tracked and volleyed back, only to be answered with a shallow lob. "That ground smash is Sanada-kun's, isn't it?" Yagyu asked, after Akaya propelled himself into a rotating leap. "It looks that way," Nioh confirmed. As was his habit, Fuji answered the smash with his Higuma Otoshi. He managed to keep the grip on his racket handle firm despite the extra power concealed within the smash, but the gut on his racket was not as fortunate. The strings snapped under the pressure. He had only seconds to flip the racket sideways and weakly return Akaya's next smash with the frame. He crouched low, trying to sense how Akaya would respond to that chance ball.
The clatter of a racket flying into the fence echoed throughout the now silent court.
Sanada watched with a grim smile. "Your grip still isn't strong enough to handle that move yet." In a louder voice, he announced the final score. "Game Set, won by Fuji. Six games to four."
Tucking his racket under his arm, Fuji clenched his closed eyes even tighter and covered his face with his hands. He had won. He, who never felt any motivation for pursuing victory in the face of overwhelming odds, had never felt so elated over winning a match. Fuji lowered his hands, sniffling, and approached the net. He gripped Akaya's palm in a firm handshake, marveling at the calluses that had accumulated on someone so young. It made the win that much more meaningful, that he had beaten a player who worked so hard at improving his game.
There was no warning when he felt Akaya slump into him despite the net between them. Fuji stumbled backwards a few steps before he steadied himself enough to support the weight of both their bodies. The steady noisy breaths he could hear Akaya inhaling through his mouth sent a pang of nostalgia through his heart. Yuuta also used to fall asleep as soon as they finished playing a long match when they were children...although at least his little brother usually waited until he sat down on the players' bench before he drifted off.
"Akaya!" The panicked call was accompanied by the smacking of chewing gum, so Fuji was able to identify at least one of the sets of hands that freed him from the burden of holding Akaya up. "He's alright," he reassured Marui as the four players traveled the short distance to the bench. "He's just sleeping. The match must have taken a lot out of him."
Fuji felt a different hand on his shoulder. He slowly realized that two seats had been opened up on the bench. Akaya was probably occupying one of the spots now, but the other was being offered to him. He dipped his head thankfully and sunk onto the edge of the bench. Now that his body wasn't being pushed, he could feel his own exhaustion creep in. Yet another hand offered him a towel, which he gratefully used to absorb the sweat drenching his face, neck and hair.
"Fuji-kun, would you like us to escort you to the hospital? You really should have your eyes and head looked at after that injury."
Fuji pulled the towel off his head and squinted. There was still some lingering pain, but colors were gradually creeping into his vision. Rather than the thick fog immediately following the blow to his head, it now felt like he was trying to look at a room through an exceptionally large cobweb. "That's alright; it seems to be clearing up. I think the rest from closing my eyes for the second half of the game helped."
"To beat Akaya, even though he couldn't see..." a deep voice murmured.
Fuji felt the need to correct the speaker. "Actually, it was because I couldn't see that I won. My senses became sharper, and I finally had the motivation to break through my limits." He smiled gently. "I hope Akaya-kun wakes up soon. I feel like there's quite a bit I need to thank him for."
Nioh snickered, muttering to Marui how it was the brat's luck to have someone thank him for injuring them. Yukimura held his hand up and stopped that conversation before the pair started making plans to tease Akaya too badly. The team glanced back and forth (some more surreptitiously than others) as Yukimura and Sanada seemed to silently debate whether they should take Fuji's word about the rate at which his sight was improving. Sanada worried about the deceptively delicate-looking player suffering a permanent injury, but the less time Yukimura was stuck at a hospital the better. Since Fuji didn't seem like the type to martyr himself, Sanada concluded he was telling the truth and would quickly recover.
"Jackal, why don't you show Fuji where we have our water fountains? He must be thirsty after all that." Yukimura glanced over a piece of paper handed to him by Yanagi, then nodded. "If your vision is better by the time you come back, are you still interested in a doubles match, Fuji-kun?"
"Of course," he answered. "I should be ready to play in a few minutes."
"Then we'll continue in ten minutes." Yukimura paused, and tugged Fuji's arm so that he would turn back around to face him as he stood. "It was good to see you play without holding back, Fuji-kun. I hope you continue to do the same."
Fuji was confident that he would fulfill the wish Yukimura had just expressed. Like a bird after experiencing its first flight, he couldn't imagine ever being grounded again.
Next chapter: Makeshift doubles! Well, for Fuji at least. Who will be his opponents...and who will be his partner?
Please let me know what you think! As usual, feel free to check out my livejournal post for this chapter for an inside look on what's going on in my head as I plan this story out (the account is under the same name as my penname here) or stop on by to chat about what you hope might happen. In this chapter's extended notes, I discuss the joys of tracking down the physical location of a fictional school in a county I've never stepped foot in and explain why the Fuji-Akaya match was so similar to the Fuji-Kirihara match in the manga despite a few critical differences, among other topics.