Chapter Seven: Echizen Ryoma vs. Ibu Shinji

Ryoma hated Rikkai's colors. He lifted the front of his jacket with his thumb and forefinger. Black and yellow? What were they, Hufflepuffs? And the shirt wasn't any different, what with the gaudy stars lining his shoulders. He slipped off the jersey and wondered who picked the shirt in the first place. Did they do it to throw off the other teams? Or maybe the guy who designed it really liked bees.

He hadn't defeated Kirihara in the ranking matches. Then again, Kirihara hadn't won against him either. The April ranking matches were a complete waste of time, Ryoma thought. He wondered why he had battled so fiercely to be a regular when it still meant nothing. It just meant he got a free, hideously black and yellow jacket. Still no respect, still no acknowledgment. He didn't know why he thought getting a jersey would change anything.

Yukimura had been out of the hospital for only a short while, though on very strict orders not to play tennis, and everything seemed fine. Until he collapsed and had to return. Their captain had gotten to play one game in the Kantou Tournament before he was pulled out by his doctors and readmitted to the hospital. He hadn't been able to participate in the ranking matches, and Sanada, ever loyal, only wanted to fill seven spaces. But Yukimura had the final word as captain and declared that they should play intending to fill eight. Ryoma wondered if it was just so that neither Kirihara nor Ryoma would be denied membership in the regular team.

Word of Yukimura's condition spread quickly, but Yukimura was never told that the Rikkai regulars suspected Ryoma of being the leak. They didn't want to stress him out, not when he was recovering and healing. Ryoma was curious, though, because he wondered how Seigaku found out; he didn't want to ask, or else the other schools would know that Rikkai knew who was aware of Yukimura's condition. Though once again he wondered why it mattered if someone knew that someone else knew about another team knowing—it was complicated and confusing, so Ryoma pushed it all to the back of his mind.

But this game thus far had been simple enough. Rikkai was dominating easily. Semifinals of the Kantou regional tournament, and they were already ahead by two against some unseeded team, Fudoumine.

Ryoma knew that Kirihara was pissed. Because Ryoma had third singles, he was guaranteed a match. Kirihara had been assigned second singles for most of the games, which meant that, if the regulars playing doubles were doing their jobs, he would never get to play. Ryoma wondered if someone was having mercy on him and decided that if Rikkai was going to be hell for him, at least he'd get to play a lot of tennis.

His opponent, Ibu Shinji, was good, but not good enough.

Good, but not good enough. A lot more to work on, still not yet…

A fleeting memory of those who used to utter those words, of a time when another great player—players?—uttered those words to him, brushed past his mind, but that time seemed like such a long time ago.

Rikkai didn't allow horseplay; only victory. Sitting on the bench, Ryoma took a moment to rest and forget. The game had barely started, and he was already tired. Not physically tired. Mentally tired. He wasn't sure if he wanted to keep playing anymore. Anyone else in Rikkai would be able to finish Fudoumine; he wasn't that important. He had half a mind to just lose and let Kirihara have some part in the glory. Then it would be Kirihara vs. Fudoumine's leader, Tachibana. Kirihara would win, and no harm done.

But he was a student in Rikkaidai, and that meant he could never allow himself to lose. Never, no, he told himself. He told himself that he was supposed to be in the Rikkai mindset. He had to win, no matter what.

"I know what you're thinking, Echizen." Ryoma looked up at his vice captain who already sported worry lines. "If you lose, you're going to regret it," Sanada threatened him, handing him a towel. To an outside viewer, the gesture seemed friendly, empowering. The vice captain lowering himself to take care of his kouhai. Only those within Rikkai knew that Sanada was making sure that he kept his promise to Yukimura. And Ryoma would, he told himself. For Yukimura-buchou.

Sanada had a strange attachment, or loyalty, to the captain. Ryoma wasn't sure what kind of connection they had, but from what he saw, it was somewhat one-sided and not completely platonic. But Sanada seemed to live to make Yukimura happy, and victory was the only thing that would make the captain happy.

So Sanada clapped a hand on Ryoma's back in a strong movement that would seem, to the viewer, to be a show of support. But it was a warning, a reminder of how strong a single hand from Sanada could be. Ryoma had to win.


"Blessed. He's in good form now and his senpai are taking care of him. Oh, he's going to lose." Sometimes Ibu Shinji accidentally said his thoughts aloud. He was never sure because his thoughts always ran together. Why don't I get nice senpai? What great divine power decided that Echizen Ryoma deserved good senpai, and not Ibu Shinji? "He's too lucky, making me a little frustrated." A little frustrated? A lot frustrated. And the freshman thought he could just do whatever he wanted? Well, Shinji was just as good and even better. "An eye for an eye, Echizen." He wasn't planning to hold back. He would unleash his 'spot' without mercy.


"You know you can't forfeit," Sanada said stoically. Ryoma knew Rikkai's maxim well. Losing is not permitted. Must win. Even if it kills you.

"I know, Sanada-fukubuchou," he responded. Not like he'd quit. But he would have liked to know that his teammates cared more about his wellbeing than his tennis. The cotton on his eye was irritating, but he could deal with it well enough. The blood had made him nervous for a short while, but he quickly realized that Yanagi-senpai's hands were cut-free. No need to worry about that. There would be no mixing.

"It'll only hold for fifteen minutes. He'll have to forfeit once the fifteen minutes are up," the referee said neutrally.

Ryoma turned to his vice captain, because it was obvious that the older boy wanted to say something. "Then finish this in fifteen minutes. Kirihara could have won the entire match in fourteen." Why does it always come back to Kirihara? "Do you want to be on the regular team when we face Rokkaku or Seigaku?" Sanada seemed to pause and laughed dryly as he glanced down at Ryoma. "Well, Seigaku will be easy to beat..." Ryoma froze. Were they really playing Seigaku next?

"You shouldn't underestimate Seigaku," he just said. He stood up and was about to start off for his place on the court when someone put a hand on his shoulder.

"We won't." It was a warm hand. For some reason, he always imagined that the hands of those in Rikkaidai would only ever be cold toward him. He looked up at the boy who caught him. "So don't underestimate that injury." Surprisingly, it was Yanagi who had spoken. Yanagi, who at the moment looked uncomfortable saying anything to him, as if speaking to him were a criminal offense. Ryoma had said less than ten words to him since he had arrived at Rikkai. "I'd say that ten minutes is the most. If you go beyond that, it might be dangerous. Rikkai can spare a loss, but we cannot spare you." Yanagi finished confidently and walked away.

Ryoma wasn't sure what to think about Yanagi's words. Even if they were just practical words and said only for the sake of the team and not solely for Ryoma—or were they?—those words were still the most caring he'd heard from anyone on the team apart from Yukimura. It was a start, he thought. Maybe he'd be able to warm up to Rikkai. But first, he couldn't lose.


Ibu Shinji wondered if his initial thoughts about the team were wrong. Had their captain just sent the kid, who looked like he should've been a freshman, back onto the court, seeming to care little about the cut on his eye? It had bled a lot. Shinji wondered if the captain was really as uncaring as he seemed or if it was just a stoic front put on to ease the worries of the other players. It must be the latter. After what I'd seen earlier, the team was close. Even those not on the regular team seemed close.

"Hey, it's only a scratch," the other boy said as if it were really only a scratch. 'Only a scratch' didn't bleed nearly that much. "What I want to know is…what trick was that?"

The boy was inquisitive. Shinji could have told him the biology behind the muscle contractions, why the impact of returning a top spin after bottom spin after top spin over and over could cause temporary paralysis. I could have told him about the training I had gone through to be able to spot the optimal time to strike. Like now! Shinji hit the ball in easy reach and smirked when Echizen wasn't able to hit it back.

I could feel it, see it, the muscles contracting. Echizen would be sore tomorrow.

Shinji had heard the referee. Echizen only had fifteen minutes before he had to forfeit the game. Shinji could always just play an endurance match, drag the time out. But that felt so cowardly.

You think you're all that, Echizen? I could make you lose without really trying, and you're over there sweating and working like your life depends on this game. "Not bad, you're attracting a lot of sympathy." You're probably good at that since you're small. And you have big eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt, but can you stop your mumbling? I only have eight minutes left."

Mumbling? Was I mumbling again? I thought I was just thinking. The kid was tough. "You're pretty tough," he echoed aloud for the boy's benefit.

"I found that you have two weaknesses," his opponent suddenly said. And he switched hands. In normal people, switching hands would be impossible because of the lack of ambidexterity and because it would take far too long to toss the racket to another hand. But Echizen was quick. And he had good reflexes. But I was better. I had to be for the sake of Fudoumine.

That was stupid, Shinji thought as the boy tossed the racket back and forth between hands. Annoying guy with this both hands bullshit. I would ruin both of his arms then. Echizen was asking for it. I hit another slice and belatedly realized something important. Echizen was hitting the tennis ball toward my body—it was impossible to hit a topspin with it coming straight. So he was smarter than I had given him credit for.

"Hey, where's your topspin?" Echizen taunted him. Shinji wasn't sure if he should be mad or not. The boy was playing so impressively that he was just glad to play such a good and serious player.

Of course, if Tachibana-buchou had been playing this match…he would have won for Fudomine no matter what. But that wasn't decided by him.

"Rikkai Dai Fuzoku wins! 3-0!"

He walked up to the other player. It was just common courtesy, really. "Sorry I hurt your eye," he apologized. But he wondered. The boy was sneaky. I couldn't have done it. It wasn't me at all. "But I know it wasn't my fault, because you must have done it on purpose, you bastard." Of course, you're good at garnering sympathy.

"Shinji," Tachibana-buchou chided him.

"Sorry," Shinji said in his strange way. Was he mumbling again?


Word quickly spread about the frightening second year ace from Rikkai. Initially, tennis teams ignored the warning, since they had heard of the Devil Kirihara the year before.

"It's not Kirihara," Inui announced, "They say he's better than Kirihara." They were at the diner again, discussing strategy for their next match. Against Rikkaidai.

"Then who?" Kaidoh asked him. He remembered how quickly Kirihara had disposed of their captain last year, and if there were rumors of an unbeatable second year, then surely it was Kirihara. If this second year was so good, he must have been on the team last year. Rikkai's captain the year before, Nishiki, hadn't been very good anyway; they could all tell that he was just filling space that would have gone to the freshman, had he been as frightening as Kirihara.

"Reports say this one is much shorter than Kirihara. Moreover, this boy, Echizen Ryoma, has already gained a 'title'. You know how Rikkai loves their nicknames."

Oishi nodded. "Yes, I remember. The Emperor, the Child of God, the Three Demons, it's kind of hard to forget," he joked. Well it was true; it was part of their campaign for power. Having the titles separated them from the plebeian players. Having a popular title, like the Golden Pair, or Tensai empowered players like Kikumaru, Oishi, and Fuji, and gave them the advantage over unnamed rivals.

"Well, since Yukimura is out of commission, Rikkai needed a new trump card. They say he's just like Sanada, the Emperor," Inui told them, "He dominates on the court, and allows no defeat, just like you'd expect from Rikkai. The Prince."

"What about Ochibi?" Fuji suddenly asked, "Isn't he on the team?"

Inui seemed to be a bit jarred, nervous. "Well, there remains the fact that we don't actually know his name, so determining whether he is on the team is a bit complicated."

"Maybe he knows this second year kid. This kid beat Ginka's Doumouto. He pulverized him," Momo said seriously. It was so rare to see him serious that they knew to be concerned. He wasn't trying to detract from the conversation about Ochibi; he was just concerned about this second year ace.

"Yes," Inui agreed, "He defeated him with ease in less than ten minutes. Devil Kirihara didn't even get to play. Then a 6-0 game against Nashikari's third year captain, Shinagawa. And then a 6-2 defeat over Fudoumine's Ibu Shinji."

"What?" Taka asked, surprised. Fudoumine had been almost impossible to beat in the Tokyo Prefecturals, and he couldn't see how a mere second year could best any of Fudoumine's singles players. He remembered Ishida's hadoukyu, Ibu Shinji's spot, and Kamio's speed. They had been incredible opponents.

"Well, we'll be playing against them in the Kantou finals," Fuji said. "I wish Tezuka were here, but maybe we'll see Ochibi there. Wouldn't that be great?" He had really warmed up to the boy. It was kind of sad how they hadn't been able to visit the diner as much because of tennis practices. But whenever they went to the diner, Ochibi was there. Usually. It seemed today was an exception, because Minato had been the one to take their order. Though lately, 'lately' as in the past few months, Ochibi seemed to distance himself. He had been more taciturn and irritated.

"Don't you think it's about time we ask Ochibi his name?"

Of course, it was a question that lingered on the edge of all their minds. A name clung to the edges of their minds, a name that began with an R, they thought. They had heard his mother calling him by name only once, but it escaped all of them. They all wanted to know his name, but didn't want to push the issue. Ochibi was like a wild animal, like a timid wildcat. Not like a lion or the large African lions, they thought. Like a small cat, with the golden eyes, who runs away at the first sign of danger to himself but defends his territory with a fierce spirit. Like a rabbit, Kikumaru thought, but then he imagined that Ochibi wouldn't like being compared to a rabbit.


Must win

Losing is not permitted

It had been drilled into them. They had to win. For Yukimura-buchou.

Ryoma had told his boss at the diner that he had to take a week off. He'd told him that the Kantou finals were up, and he had to practice. And to not tell those loud obnoxious boys anything.

The real reason why he couldn't work that week, he knew but would never say, was that he couldn't see them again, the eight, and still keep a strong grip on his mission—to win. He had talked little to them, and basically tried to avoid spending too much time in their company. If he basked in their joyful presence too long, Ryoma didn't think he would have the constitution to leave them.

But individuals didn't matter. Echizen Ryoma didn't matter. What mattered was winning Kantou for the sixteenth time and Nationals for the third year in a row. He had been close to losing against Ibu Shinji. If he hadn't caught on to what Ibu was doing…

Ryoma didn't want to think about that. He walked into the tennis store just as it was ready to close. He needed new grip tape, and easily decided to get the best kind, even though it was more expensive. He hoped the gift card he'd gotten for Christmas—he refused to think of the people who had gifted it to him—still had funds on it; he didn't want to check, to see how little he would have left. He'd rather be denied once the card ran out and have that over with than check his funds after every purchase. But he didn't need much anyway. Just enough to buy his grip tape.

"Echizen-kun," an airy voice floated over to him. Ryoma turned and saw that guy from Fudoumine. Hm.

He nodded in response and took his grip tape to the cash register. He thought he saw Ibu Shinji glare at him. "How's your eye?" Ibu asked. Well, he didn't sound vengeful. Actually, he sounded a bit concerned. Ryoma glanced over at him and could immediately tell that the other boy's mind was flying fast. He seemed to think a lot and sometimes accidentally said his thoughts aloud.

"Still healing," Ryoma answered curtly. The cashier rang his purchase up. 800 yen. He slipped out the gift card which somehow still had funds even though it was already July. Ryoma had used it for everything since December, from tennis balls to strings to clothes, anything that this tennis store sold. He wondered how it hadn't run out yet. Did he really want to know how much was left? It would just be one short inquiry, and then he'd never have to ask again. Just once.

Curious, he asked, "Is there a way to see how much is left? On the gift card?"

"Sure," the man behind the register said. He asked for the receipt and showed where it read " [Card: 6000 yen] "

"What?" Ryoma wondered. So much left! Even more curious, he asked, "How much was there initially?" He hadn't cared the first time he used the card. He didn't want to think about how limited his resources were. But not this time.

"Let's see," he man muttered, turning to a computer on the same desk. "Here, you can see how much there was and what was spent each time, and stuff like that." He turned the monitor around for Ryoma to see and he was amazed.

"You keep putting funds into that card, Echizen-kun?" Ibu Shinji asked him, staring at the screen without decorum. Ryoma hadn't. He didn't even know it was possible. He looked at the dates and the money, and realized that after every purchase, the amount on the card increased a week or two later.

"So it only had 3000 yen at first…I wonder why you kept adding money to it when you could just buy it with cash. Though I guess…"

Ryoma tuned him out. He could handle only so much of the boy's muttering before he had to stop listening. "Thank you," he told the cashier.

Now he couldn't not think of the Seigaku regulars. Even now, they were taking care of him. Even now when he was trying to block them out. Did they know about his financial problems? It was embarrassing, he thought. Humiliating, even. But they hadn't mentioned it. And Ryoma doubted they would ever mention it. And frankly, as long as no one ever acknowledged it verbally, he would let himself appreciate the gift. Of course, he'd stop using it—Echizen Ryoma was not a charity case—but he wouldn't chew them out for it. Maybe someday he'd have words with them, when he was no longer in Rikkaidai and they weren't in Seigaku.

"That Echizen. I hope he wins," Ibu Shinji muttered to himself, watching the other boy leave the store. "No," he amended, "I hope he has a good match."


They would be ready for anything, the Seigaku regulars thought. Inui had thoroughly researched every single one of the players in Rikkaidai's tennis club, even a few who weren't regulars. Inui had their statistics, their likes and dislikes, and even their favorite colors. The only thing he didn't have were referential pictures. He never needed pictures, he thought, because having an image only led to assumptions and misconceptions based on physical appearance. And he found that physical appearance was often misleading.

"Their doubles are nationally ranked," Inui warned them. "Their doubles team easily beat Fudoumine's Ishida-Sakurai pair, 6-0. But that's probably not who you're playing," he was telling Oishi and Kikumaru, "They have many players who are brilliant with both singles and doubles, so their lineup will be a surprise. They will almost certainly have the Trickster for doubles, though he is the one player I have absolutely no data on."

He turned to Fuji. "Also, there's that mystery second year, Echizen." Ryuzaki Sumire tried not to show her shock. How strange. Echizen wasn't a common name. Inui continued, "We put you in singles 2, probably against Kirihara. Watch out. If everything goes well, we'll be going into the Nationals as the Kantou champions. If not, we'll still get to go to the Nationals. But we'll be challengers."

It chilled them to the bone. That they were going to the Nationals again, no matter what. It was a good chill.

"Okay, let's win!" was all Oishi needed to say. Seigaku was fired up and ready. A bottomless fountain of hope and energy. Even though Tezuka was gone for rehabilitation, Seigaku believed they could do it. The first doubles pair stepped onto the court with no little cheering.

Coach Ryuzaki contemplated the wisdom behind letting Kaidoh and Momoshiro play doubles. Sure, they spurred each other on, but there needed to be a connection; mutual hatred was hardly good enough.

But, she thought, she had sensed a change in her team. They were all closer, she observed. They left tennis practice together, to do God knows what, and then discussed whatever it was over laps. She'd heard their conversations before, about someone or something named Ochibi. Probably a pet, from the way they spoke about whether he was eating enough or whether he seemed happy lately.

Looking onto the tennis court, she knew that Momoshiro and Kaidoh were not strong enough. They had the drive and the ambition, but the Rikkai players seemed to be able to play doubles with any other Rikkai player flawlessly. Not like Seigaku. They had the Golden Pair, yes, but then the rest were a mixture of singles players who could step into the shoes for doubles. But only for a little while.

And Momoshiro and Kaidoh couldn't do it.

6-1, and Jackal Kuwahara and Marui Bunta hadn't taken their wrist weights off until the very end. It was a strong battle, they all knew, but Momoshiro and Kaidoh had formed a strategy too late and it cost them the match.

So Seigaku collected themselves and only cheered harder once the Golden Pair stepped onto the court. They were convinced that the pair would redeem Seigaku. The pair that had defeated so many others could surely defeat any doubles team Rikkai patched together.

But against Niou and Yagyuu, it wasn't enough. They had switched identities. A parlor trick, some thought, but it had worked to unnerve their opponents. 6-4. The Golden Pair had played excellently, magnificently, but it wasn't enough. They had evolved during the game, but, they all thought, it wasn't enough.

So Seigaku clutched the little hope they had left as Inui took his place on the tennis court.

Slowly, the little hope grew and withered and grew as the game progressed, following the progress of the players. To normal onlookers, it seemed like just a high-energy game. To the experienced players, they all saw some kind of nostalgia within their shared play. Two halves of what used to be the leading doubles team playing against the other.

Inui was playing evenly against one of the Three Demons, Yanagi Renji. And then finally…hope. For Seigaku, the win was a glorious surprise, a victory that roused even the most spiritless to stand in appreciation. Even in the end, as they faced each other, victor and conquered, it was obvious the two were friends. Some wondered how such a friendship could exist; the data tennis players from both schools.

"Game set won by Inui!"

And Seigaku had hope again.

However, a team had never taken a loss so hard. The Seigaku regulars watched the Rikkai team as they looked somberly at each other, talking in low, hushed tones. The word 'surgery' seemed to pop up more than once.

"Rikkai's captain is apparently having his surgery today. That's why they've been trying to beat us as fast as possible—to make it to their buchou's surgery." Inui related the story of Yukimura to the Seigaku freshmen, a trio who were in the tennis club but weren't experienced enough to be regulars. "Even though Rikkaidai does not have the leader of the Three Demons, it seems they have only strengthened their commitment to victory."

It went unspoken on Seigaku's side. They had all heard the law of Rikkai. "Losing is not permitted."

They could hear the words spoken from Rikkai's vice captain to Yanagi, the only loser Rikkai had had so far. "This was not a match you were unable to win," he started. He was cold-looking, harsh, angry. "You let personal feelings get in the way."

And Yanagi seemed to understand. "I'm sorry," he said with a voice flooding with sincerity, "I broke our promise to Seiichi." Onlookers who hadn't heard Inui wondered who Seiichi was. Yanagi seemed to tauten, to sweat now more than he had during the match. "Do what you must; set an example for the other players."

The older Seigaku regulars knew what was coming next, having seen it years before. Some didn't, and were taken by surprise by the grand motion of Sanada's sweeping arm. A strong hand coming so fast that most would have missed it, were it not caught in that essential second.

The backhand was stopped inches away from Yanagi's cheek which was turned away in anticipation of the pain. The only thing stopping its course was a bright red racket held by a boy none had expected.

He lowered the racket passively, pushing Sanada's hand down. In what seemed to be an arrogant move, he tossed his racket back over his shoulder and deadpan, said, "It's no big deal, right?" He walked past his fukubuchou and looked straight at the eight boys of Seigaku who held the boy's gaze with confusion.

He glanced at Sanada and then fixed his eyes on his next opponent. Fuji. "The result will be the same. Rikkai will win another National title, and we'll make it to Yukimura-buchou's surgery on time."

Disbelieving whispers of "Ochibi..." floated on the air from the Seigaku regulars. There was no mistake; the stature, the face, the white cap being lowered over foggy golden eyes..

"Echizen-kun," Fuji said coolly, "If you're pressed for time, I'll be happy to oblige." All of Seigaku missed the boy's eyes closing in resignation and his drooping shoulders. All they saw was a cocky kid who thought he could take on Seigaku's Tensai. They didn't see how the boy lost the shine in his eyes or how he looked at Fuji with the conviction of an abandoned child. No, they just saw Echizen Ryoma, the Prince of Rikkaidai.


Next chapter: Echizen Ryoma vs. Fuji Shusuke! Kantou Finals