Disclaimer: See prologue

Warnings (forgot about these…): I'll tell you at the start of a chapter if there's anything else, but I'm only saying this once. This fic has shounen ai, occasional mild violence, and cursing. There. On with the chapter!

Here We Go Again

Chapter Three: Of Golf Carts and Fraternities

"Excuse me, Miss, but we don't allow players' girlfriends on the courts." Ryoma twitched. What was wrong with people?

Sensing his irritation, Oishi coughed. "Well, Nishi-sensei, this is actually a boy. He was our teammate in middle school, and you might've heard of him. It's Echizen Ryoma?" The teen trailed off, the end of his statement coming out as a question.

Ryoma, on the other hand, gave a slight scowl. So this was Nishi-sensei. One wouldn't peg him as a rich, nepotistic bastard. He was a middle-aged man with dark hair he wore slicked back and a plain face. The only thing separating him from the masses was the excessive number of brand names on his person.

"Oh yeah, you're that late entry Sawada-kouchou told me about. Well, get to work. I think that Court B needs a ball boy." All of the man's previous courtesy disappeared, to be replaced by a careless, apathetic air. Well, someone was about to show him how it was done.

"No." The brat's reply echoed through the courts, stopping Nishi-sensei in his tracks.

"Excuse me, what was that?" The man looked like he knew full well what the newest club member had said.

"I said no, Sensei. I won't pick up balls. I entered this club under the assumption that I would actually play tennis. If not, I could use a break, and swimming's good for cross-training." While in most cases, Ryoma might not have been quite so vehement in his response, this was not 'most cases.'

By now, Nishi-sensei was spitting fire, and ready to simply expel Ryoma and tell him to swim; however, two brunettes had been listening intently and were not about to let their underclassman walk away.

"Echizen, stop making trouble on your first day," scolded Tezuka, to be closely followed by:

"Ryoma-chan, if you're that eager to play, we can have a rematch. I'll have to ask you remove your weights, though."

Fuji was smiling widely, eyes open in anticipation. He had never felt such a thrill as he did during that match in the rain, which now felt far too long ago.

"Hmm… Yes to the first, but you'll have try and make me on the second." Despite his arrogant words, the teen was trying not to bounce in excitement.

Back in the professional league, there was no such thing as a simple challenge for the adrenaline rush. Everything was a dangerous maze, entirely too easy to get lost in. Matches were almost never about having fun and the love of the game, influenced as they were by money, propaganda, and the media. Some opponents would only be in tournaments for their next paycheck, or wouldn't give their all because their manager said they would garner support by losing. Those people, to say the least, disgusted him.

The matches in the pro circuits that had managed to excite him were few and far between. The matches in Japanese middle school circuits were a constant battle of strength, wills, and passion. In all honesty, his choice had not been a hard one.

"Nishi-sensei, will that be a problem?" Tezuka had decided he really didn't want two of his best players to get kicked off the team for an unauthorized match.

The coach hummed and looked over to the two players, who were currently locked in a fierce staring match. "Fuji, make sure you put the brat in his place. You can use Court F, over in Block Two."

"Thank you, Sensei." Once again, Tezuka had to speak for his teammates. "Fuji, Echizen, stop antagonizing each other. Sensei said you can have your match in Block Two."

Grudgingly turning away from their silent sparring, the two followed their former captain out of the gates.

"Inui. You know everything about everyone. Who was that kid, and why did he think he could mouth off?" asked the coach with a sneer, watching the backs of the three club members.

"Does your phone have internet reception here? 100% chance that you would find a lengthy bio about him, should you search for one."

Blinking in surprise, Nishi watched his father pull out a phone. "Oi, Inui. Why would there be a big page on the brat?"

Smiling, the data man turned away. "Ask your father. He should've found something by now. If you'll excuse me, it's time for the first years' laps." With that, Nishi the elder and younger were left alone, the other Regulars having long since departed.

"Dad, anything on- hey, what's wrong?" Seishun's coach was pale, sweating, and gasping like a fish.

"Hideto, that kid… I'd heard about him, but to think that that girly little shrimp…" The man's words came out garbled and incoherent.

"Dad, you're not making any sense. What the fuck could be so special about him? Never mind, let me see that." Snatching the phone from his father's hand and not caring that he looked like he was having a coronary, the captain stared at the little screen.

Of all the things Nishi Hideto was expecting to see on that screen, words like, "teen prodigy, young millionaire, world-wide fame," and "Calendar Grand Slam," were most definitely not on the list.

"H-him?"

~X~

"Alright. I'm done warming up."

The little yellow ball pounded against a red racquet, flying across the court at 219 kilometers per hour and nicking the top of the net. From there, it spun uncontrollably, darting across the receiver's box in every direction before landing a foot in front of the net and returning once more to the server.

"G-Game, to Challenger. Two games to one."

The small crowd that had gathered around Court F was silent for a split second before the murmuring began.

"That serve just now…"

"You saw it too, right?"

"Is that sort of thing legal?"

"I'm didn't even know that sort of thing was possible…"

"Feels like I know that kid…"

"Same here."

"It couldn't be… him, could it?"

"Mada mada dane, Fuji-senpai." A wry smile in place, Ryoma pointed his racquet at the genius. "I call it Dance to the Apocalypse (1)."

"A very interesting ball, Ryoma-chan. You've gotten quite good."

"Did Fuji-san just say Ryoma?"

"As in…"

"…the Prince of Tennis?"

"Ne, Fuji-senpai. It's your turn and I still need to break that Disappearing Serve." Ryoma tried to sound as obnoxious as possible as he and Fuji changed courts, knowing he could goad anyone into anything. Especially when his opponent loved showing off as much as Fuji did. This was what he had missed. He hadn't felt this alive in so long. A corner of his mind did wonder, Why is it that only a select few fully grown professionals are as good as the people in a high school tennis club? but the thought was bound, gagged, and thrown in a mental closet, as it was deemed irrelevant.

The brunet's clear blue eyes slid closed once more and he chuckled. "Still stubborn as ever, I see. Alright then, this ball will disappear."

Eyes narrowing and feet shuffling as the ball was served with a clean smack, Ryoma waited for the instant between the bounce and the inevitable cut to the right.

Using a basic Super Rising Shot to send the ball flying back, the cat-eyed boy smirked. "I won't let it," he taunted. Their game continued for several minutes, each of them neck and neck. When he had the advantage for the third time (after no less than six deuces), the younger player decided to try it.

As Fuji returned the ball, Ryoma noticed an ideal chance. Slice. Perfect.

"Moon Drop," he muttered. True to its name, the ball was a drop shot. Since Fuji was good enough to reach it, the spin sent the ball flying into the air… and deeper into the genius's side of the court. Had Fuji not been good enough to hit it before it struck the ground, its powerful slice spin would have sent it flying back into the net.

The crowd stood completely still, having never seen a shot of its kind before. Even the usually unshakable genius was stunned, not noticing the gentle pat signaling that the ball had completed its tall, lazy arc. "Heeh… Congratulations, Fuji-senpai, you're the first opponent to see the perfected Moon Drop."

"I'm honored, but…" Bright blue eyes snapped open, and a close-lipped smile appeared on Fuji's face. "That shot requires quite a bit of under-spin, doesn't it? I doubt that all of that spin was yours, in fact."

Ryoma had a snarky reply already prepared, and had just opened his mouth when a drop of cold water landed on his nose. Looking up, he saw that the pale gray clouds that had covered the sky a few hours prior had turned a stormy, dark shade. Little droplets were falling from above, staining the courts dark green. Witty comeback forgotten, he instead said: "You have got to be joking."

Knowing right away what the young pro meant, Fuji chuckled. "Saa, it would seem that someone up there is against our finishing a match."

Little droplets fell from already matted black hair as Ryoma snorted. But ridiculous though his upperclassman's idea may have been, he had to admit (if only to himself) what a strange coincidence the rainstorm was. "I would've won anyway," he taunted as they faced each other from opposite sides of the net.

"Now, now, Ryoma-chan, that isn't very nice. And who knows how the match would've ended? I had some new tricks that I was waiting to use." Then brunet just smiled, leaving a beat of silence before Tezuka called out to them.

"Echizen, Fuji, hurry. We've been told to return to our dorms."

"Ochibi, Fujiko, hop on, nya! We got your bags, so hurry!" There was a splash and the squeal of tires as a six-person golf cart screeched to a stop just outside Block Two. Kikumaru was waving enthusiastically from the driver's seat, with Oishi grinning sheepishly at them from behind one flailing arm and Inui beside him, scribbling away in his notebook.

"They let us – no, scratch that. They let Kikumaru-senpai drive a golf cart around campus." At this point, Ryoma was too incredulous to make the sentence a question. The mere thought of the energetic redhead driving any vehicle, much less one where he was a passenger, sent apprehensive shudders down his spine.

"On days with high chances of rain, yes, they let the athletes drive to and from their dorms," came the merry reply. "Eiji, being who he is, always wants to drive us around on those days. Despite his issues with speed, he's really quite good." During his explanation, Fuji had started to walk briskly towards the cart ("Hurry up, nya, before we get all wet and cold!"), forcing the now thoroughly soaked Echizen to follow.

"Fuji-senpai, you're speaking as if we aren't about to get into a cart, driven by a virtually ADHD teen, on a rainy, low-visibility day." Translation: That's bull, no way in hell am I getting on that thing.

Unfortunately, by now the duo were within earshot of said virtually ADHD teen. "Mou, Oishi! We haven't seen him in two years and Ochibi's already being mean!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose and already feeling an oncoming headache at the cat-boy's wailing, Tezuka decided to intervene. "Echizen, get on the cart. It's faster and he hasn't killed us yet."

Ryoma sighed. It would seem that even after two years, he still couldn't go against his captain's orders. "Fine, but if we crash, I'm not going to be the one telling my manager," he stated huffily as he sat down with a plop of wet clothing.

The equally soaked teen on his right seemed to find that amusing. Then again, everything seemed to be cause for merriment in Fuji's world. "I must say, Ryo-chan, I didn't think that only two years away would turn you into such a diva."

"Don't call me Ryo-chan. And don't compare me to Monkey King," was the Prince's petulant reply.

"Hm. It would seem that, in Echizen's mind, diva equates to Atobe, and Atobe equates to Monkey King. Good data… Oh yes, Echizen, what dorm room are you in? I haven't been able to find that out with the limited time I've had."

"Um… I think it was something like T-V-1-8…" As always, remembering even the smallest thing was a chore for him.

"Hm. Good data. It would appear that you're taking the last room in our dorm then… It stands for Tennis Varsity, Dorm One, Room Eight. 99% chance that the dorm officials know we are your former teammates and that you will, in all probability, be joining us on the Regular squad soon." Well, there was one of his first pleasant surprises all day. So I'll be living with my senpai-tachi, huh?

Upon further contemplation, this was maybe not so pleasant. But still.

"Inui, I thought we agreed on this. It's a fraternity, not a dorm," Fuji chided laughingly.

"That was your room that all those big guys were working on? Really?" Looking away from the road and speaking for the first time since Ryoma had gotten on the cart, Oishi's dark green eyes were wide in surprise.

"I guess so. I haven't seen it yet. What's so special about it?" True, the young star had cash to burn and his mother knew that, but he was beginning to wonder what he had been thinking when he gave her free rein regarding his dorm room. Swallowing, he pictured the many things she could and would have done to his future home. Not pretty.

"It's incredible! Ochibi you'll love it! It's so awesome that you're in our frat! Oh yeah, guys, we're almost there, nya." The redhead behind the wheel piped up. This led to his least desensitized passenger noticing their speed.

"Gah! Kikumaru-senpai, slow the hell down!" the boy screamed at his upperclassman. Even his sharp eyesight had trouble processing the rapidly passing scenery, barely catching more than a blur of color.

"Hahaha! Don't mind, don't mind," the driver chanted happily. "See, everyone else is used to my driving! It's always like this and we're fine."

Despite his reassurances, the rattled freshman grabbed his bag and jumped off the vehicle (in his mind, deathtrap was the preferred term) before it had stopped completely. Those with good eyesight could see his failed attempts at not shaking.

"So Echizen is afraid of high speeds. Good data," mumbled Inui, rising briskly from his seat.

Already safely tucked into the small alcove shielding the dorm's front door from the elements, the subject of Inui's new data replied petulantly, "I have no problems with high speeds, Inui-senpai, when I think they won't kill me. Now can someone with a key hurry up and open the damn door? I'm freezing and my keys are apparently in my room."

"Ryo-chan, I'll let you in if you apologize for swearing twice in so many minutes." The genius' mirth at all the chaos during the ride over to the dorms had disappeared, and he now had a stern look on his face.

"No. Why should I?"

"Ry-o-ma. Apologize."

The boy shuddered. Fuji's eyes were actually open for god's sake. Why did he care that much?

"Mou, Fujiko, Ochibi, you're taking too long. I'm unlocking it." Making good of his words, Kikumaru bounced up to the frosted glass doors, whipping out a key card as he went. Swiping it once and grinning at the green light and its accompanying beep, he gave a mock bow, raindrops flying off the tips of his hair.

Holding the door open with an 'in you go' gesture, the acrobat watched his teammates file in before following suit.

Ryoma whistled as he looked around. After stepping through a mudroom where they had taken off their squeaking shoes, the group had entered a large, round foyer, two stories tall. The walls were fitted with dark mahogany bookshelves, already fully stocked, but what could be seen of the walls themselves was a creamy off-white. A thick, wall-to-wall carpet dyed a blue to match Fuji's eyes blanketed the floor. To either side of him, he saw a spacious archway, each leading to a hallway.

There was a round dent in the center of the room, but instead of a straight drop, the floor itself sloped downwards gently. In the middle of the space, a large plasma TV sat on a platform (he got the message immediately: Worship the Television) with game consoles, beanbags, and a soft looking leather couch on the floor around it.

Above the bookshelves, also conformed to the wall, was a walkway lined by eight doors. To reach the walkway, a staircase could be seen to the right, and to the left… There is no way they honestly included a slide. It appeared that each door had the occupant's name on a gold plaque, but several had chosen to further decorate theirs. Above the doors was-

Ryoma gasped softly.

In place of a ceiling, a giant glass dome spread over the foyer.

Seeing his awe at their living arrangements, some of the others laughed. "Impressive, isn't it, Ryo-chan? Since we're basically the Varsity tennis team, our dorm's nicer than the others. Also, when the men began working on your room, they replaced the other set of stairs with our slide, renovated the kitchen and dining room, down the right side hallway, and added-" Fuji began to explain, before being cut off by his excitable friend.

"The onsen, nya! Oh yeah, and they put new stuff in the gym… But they also expanded the game room! It's insane! It's got pool, ping pong, cards, arcade stuff, board games…" As the redhead rambled on about what was no doubt his favorite place in the dorm, Ryoma's thoughts were more focused on the fact that this building had its own gym and onsen. How rich was this school, anyways? Seigaku had always seemed normal…

Don't question it. You should've known when you saw all of the sports fields. Looking around once more, he noticed a problem. "You said that I'm taking the last room. If there are only five of you, who's in the other two?"

Coincidently, Kikumaru had just finished his description of the game room, decided that they should show Ochibi and shouted, "You two, come downstairs! We're home and going to the game room!" up the stairs.

"Just a sec, Eiji-senpai!" yelled a familiar, albeit sleepy, voice. "Oi! Mamushi, you coming or not?"

"Shut it, Momoshiri, I'm busy!" a deep, irritated voice yelled back.

There was the sound of a door opening, then slamming shut as Momoshiro Takeshi appeared on the walkway. "What was that, bastard? We all know you're just scared I'll kick your ass at pool again!" taunted Momo, who had yet to notice the presence of one of his best friends.

Slamming his door open, Kaidoh saw a face he hadn't expected. While, yes, he did the idiot's ugly mug, the unexpected face was down ten feet in the foyer. Now, instead of the usual lone bishounen (Fuji), there were two. "Echizen?"

Both blinking and looking bewildered, the rivals felt all of their previous hostility drain away. "What's Echizen got to do with all this? Did his Houdini impersonation mess up your head?" Momo's purple eyes were actually filled with concern. Then again, he was honestly questioning the sanity of someone he had known for years.

Honestly concerned he may be, but that didn't mean Kaidoh took the question well. "No, you fucking moron, turn around. It's him!"

"What are you – Echizen! What the hell? This was where you disappeared to? You little brat, this just like Nationals, you can't do that, you just can't! You impulsive little-" Momo had managed to keep up a steady tirade as he turned, ran halfway around the walkway, jumped on and skidded down the slide, ran over to Ryoma, and put said cause in a headlock. By the last two words, he was affectionately (yet mercilessly) noogie-ing the top of Ryoma's head.

"Momo-chi! You're choking Ochibi, let go!" Oh, the irony.

"Ah, my bad. Has anyone told you that you look like a girl?" Ryoma didn't reply, preoccupied as he was with trying to catch his breath, but he did manage a scathing glare.

"Echizen, are you okay? Maybe you should go to your room. Eiji, you can show him the game room some other time, he's had a long day." Oishi had cut in before the short (and admittedly effeminate) teen before him could kill Momo for his question.

"I will, thanks. Oh, hey Kaidoh-senpai." Ryoma had turned to find the man a few feet away, looking thunderstruck. "Which one's Room Eight?"

"Fsshhh…"

"Echizen, Room Eight is directly at the top of the stairs. You're next to me." Surprisingly it was Tezuka who had spoken up, turning away from the bookshelves.

"And me, Ryo-chan. I'm on your right." Fuji seemed extremely pleased by this, despite the fact that he must have figured it out one way or another ages ago.

"Yay! I'm only two down from Ochibi! Listen, nya. Even rooms are on the right, and odds are on the left. From Momo-chi's room on the far left, the rooms go number one, three, five, seven, eight, six, four, two," Kikumaru explained, before suddenly turning to the other six. "Listen, everyone! We're letting Ochibi and Fujiko clean up, then we're having dinner and partying in here!"

The youngest member of their quasi-household sighed. "Kikumaru-senpai, why do we have to-" He stopped talking then, due to his memory being refreshed as to just how strong an Eiji Glomp ™ could be.

Bright blue eyes suddenly glared daggers at the redhead's back. "Saa… Eiji, could you let go of Ryo-chan?" The words were soft, clipped, and threatening. Chills ran down everyone's spines.

"Unyah! Oishi! Fujiko's scary!" The teen had immediately jumped, catlike, onto his partner.

Shaking off the paralyzing effects of his new neighbor's gaze, Ryoma turned towards the stairs. "Well, I'll be up there. And my name's not 'Ryo-chan.'"

As he started up the steps, his thoughts quickly turned to a hot shower and food. Noting that he needed a nameplate for the door, the tennis star swung it open.

And immediately felt the urge to smack himself.

Yaayyyyyy! This sucker just broke 10K! Maybe some more people will review, then… Oh, and all you people reading but not reviewing, thinking "Oh, one review isn't going to matter to her," IT MATTERS. EVERY. REVIEW. MATTERS.

God, now I know what people meant when they say they suck at action (…tennis?) scenes. The shots don't (and future ones won't) make much sense, but in my defense, neither do the ones in the canon. I'll go really into detail for important matches ONLY.

WHO WANTS THEIR DORM? I KNOW I DO! If that part was confusing, there's a floor plan in my devianart account (link's on my profile). The plans for Ryoma's room (described in the next chapter) are there, too.

(1) Dance to the Apocalypse – Ryoma puts slice spin on the ball when serving it, but makes it hit the top of the net, producing topspin. Using PoT logic, this makes it spin all over the place before bouncing directly in front of the net and returning to Ryoma.

Edited 8/27/15