One Step
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari
Co-written by: Aventria

Yesh, people, you saw that right. I now have a co-writer! Tria-chan has gladly agreed to help me write this developing story that's receiving a lot of high expectations from readers, and I really appreciate the help. And god knows, I need it too.

Note: There was a reader who asked something about why Sumire was there in the council meeting… well, see, the Middle School and the High School are sister schools, and so, they have a unified council. It's that way in some schools in Japan.

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.

Warning(s): Right. Yaoi alert. Not for the sensitive. Nothing really explicit, but there are… some things that are not for people who do not sport yaoi.

Step Ten: Brat Prince Number Two

"Ryoma."

A groan.

"Ryoma."

Silence.

"Ryoma, wake up."

Another groan.

The awake occupant inside the room released a long suffering sigh, eyeing the small lump on the pristine white bed in one of the rooms in Atobe's beachside Odaiba Bay manor.

"Ryoma, come on, wake up," Tezuka sighed, trying to coax the boy out of slumber, which was proving quite challenging. He sat down on one side of the bed and lightly but firmly shook the lump.

The boy groaned louder, the tuft of black hair tinged with a strange yet alluring emerald green moving slightly as the figure rolled under the coverlets of the duvet bed. An arm was thrown stretched across Tezuka's lap.

Tezuka sighed even deeper, dropping his head. Never did he imagine in his life that the Echizen Ryoma was this hard to wake up in the morning. Of course, looking back at his recurring tardiness, he should have expected it; but he never really gave it much thought, having been intently focused on improving the boy's play.

"Ryoma, wake up," Tezuka said firmly, pushing the coverlets down to expose a half-naked Ryoma sprawled haphazardly across his bed. The boy was blissfully asleep, his face the expression of complete relaxation, a small contented smile curving on his soft lips. Perfectly tanned, soft skin was out in the open for all to see.

Tezuka resisted the incredibly overwhelming urge to run his palms down that small chest and feel the soft skin quiver under his touch. He mentally shook himself. This was not the right time to think these thoughts. There was a time for that, and that time came later.

The captain moved down over the younger player and pulled him upright by his shoulders, resulting in a loud whimper of complaint and furrowing eyebrows in annoyance.

"Mmm… whu…?" Ryoma incoherently moaned, blearily blinking his eyes open, before deciding to let them droop and close half-way again, leaning against the warmth he was feeling from in front of him.

Tezuka caught the smaller frame in his arms, sighing. He patted the boy's bare back lightly. "Ryoma, time to wake up, come on," Tezuka coaxed in a gentle voice.

"Buchou…" whined Ryoma pitifully. His arms slinked unconsciously around Tezuka's neck, and his legs fastened themselves around Tezuka's lower back, pulling the small frame flush against Tezuka's chest. The contact took Tezuka's breath away. Literally. "…'m still sleepy…"

Ryoma sighed, snuggling his head under Tezuka's chin, just enough to tuck himself into the comfortable crook of the captain's shoulder. He purred at the warmth, sighing, unaware that the breath he released slithered down Tezuka's throat, electricity against the sensitized skin.

Tezuka's mind was starting to go into a haze, but he caught himself in time. He placed a soft hand at the small of Ryoma's back, gently rubbing firm circles to wake the boy.

"Ryoma, you need to wake up," Tezuka told him.

Ryoma whined even more, proving to be real difficult. He squirmed against the elder's grasp, producing pleasant friction, sliding skin against thin cloth almost baring skin. Tezuka's breath caught in his throat as he waited for Ryoma to level himself steady again. As the boy calmed down, Tezuka sighed in relief. He wasn't sure if he would be able to completely control himself. Here they were.

In a room.

All alone.

Sitting on a bed.

How ideal.

The captain sighed and picked up the haphazardly strewn shirt across the bedside table, apparently taken off during sleep because of the sweltering tropical sea heat. He pushed Ryoma away from his chest, ignoring the whines and moans and pulling the shirt over the boy's head.

Ryoma blearily decided to concede and open his eyes.

Finally.

"Buchou…?"

"You need to wake up now, Ryoma."

Ryoma nodded. "Hai…" he yawned. But instead of standing up, he leaned back against Tezuka, who internally sweat dropped.

Tezuka sighed and conceded himself. He firmly hooked an arm around Ryoma's lower back, supporting the smaller teen's weight, before hefting the boy up as he stood. Ryoma instinctively tightened his hold around Tezuka's neck and shoulders, burrowing his head deeper into the young man's neck.

Tezuka walked out of the room, heading down the hallway towards the stairs and descending the steps carefully one by one, trying hard not to trip and injure the both of them. As he descended the last step and turned the corner towards the dining, the lively morning chatter of four teams welcomed his ears.

He walked into the hall, receiving glances as the people noticed his baggage.

Eyebrows raised and mouths curved up in guffaws and amused chuckles.

Fuji smiled and stood up from his seat, moving forward and walking towards Tezuka, who stopped short before reaching his own seat, which was beside Ryoma's. Ryoma was in between Fuji and Tezuka. All the time.

Tezuka carefully cradled the precious bundle in his arms as Fuji came and placed a hand on Ryoma's now clothed back, cooing into Ryoma's ear, "Time for breakfast, little one."

From the other teams' vantage point, the three looked like a normal, happy family. Anyone could mistake Fuji for a girl, what with that gentle smile, the soft voice and the extremely motherly affection he seemed to hold towards the youngest boy in the ranks. Meanwhile, Tezuka provided the perfect father image; dependable, strong, responsible, and firm. And of course, the youngest boy had his own bouts of childishness, stubbornness, maturity, and babyish moments that seemed to paint the perfect picture for the three of them.

In his seat, Akaya's pout elongated as Fuji extricated Ryoma from Tezuka's grasp and took the younger boy into his own arms. The said Rikkaidai player slunk closer to Yukimura, who in turn chuckled and placed a pacifying kiss on the younger's cheek. Akaya still pouted but leaned into Yukimura's open arms nonetheless.

Fuji settled Ryoma down on his seat with minimal difficulty and maximum grace, sinking back into his own seat beside the still groggy boy. The tensai leaned over and placed a kiss on Ryoma's cheek, making the boy subconsciously smile lightly, before yawning and stretching.

Ryoma rubbed his eyes. "What's for breakfast?" he asked blearily.

"Protein-plenty food," Fuji replied in a merry, light tone, spreading melted butter on Ryoma's spinach omelet and adding some more bacon to the side of his already teeming plate. "Plenty of energy for today's competition. Eat up!"

"Nyaaa, ii na, ochibi-chan," Eiji sighed enviously. "He gets first-rate treatment from everyone, especially Fuji and Tezuka. And he's practically immune from everyone else since he's protected. It's almost unfair."

"Whaddya mean it's almost unfair?" Gakuto snorted, using his fork to cut a piece of his omelet. "It's super unfair!"

"Sou, sou," Momoshiro nodded almost incomprehensibly, as he was currently inhaling the food. "He gets—snort—too much fa—snort—vor!"

"Ewww, Momo, don't do that!" Eiji recoiled.

"Ahou," Kaidoh deadpanned. (t/r: Ahou means Idiot.)

"Baka ne, Momo-senpai," Ryoma slowly, groggily remarked like a child, eating his food in a turtle's pace. The remark earned him a sharp glare, but anyone could tell that the young one was dead on his feet, still submerged under sleep.

"Ryoma, if you don't hurry up, we'll be late," reminded Fuji. "Eat up, eat up, you still need to shower and get prepared, right?"

"Ne, Fuji's like a mother," Eiji pointed out bluntly.

"Well, thanks for stating the obvious, Mr. Genius," Gakuto mocked, earning a sideways death glare. The two elapsed into another one of their daily morning fights, with the occasional inputs by Momoshiro or Marui, who was across them.

The three redheads' daily fights were common things in the manor. Everyone would consider it doomsday if a day lacked a single fight. There was an average of 37 fights a day, occasionally dropping or raising depending on the mood and the energy levels the redheads retained through the training, and it also relied on the topic of the fight.

Marui would always stand in the middle of everything, always neutral in opinion, while Eiji and Gakuto always remained on opposite sides of the circle. It would be another doomsday if ever the two sided together. It was near impossible.

Ryoma slowly gained pace with his food, his mind finally ridding itself of the comforting lull of sleep and emerging into the waking world. He wolfed down the food, remembering that he hadn't had much dinner the previous night, and that he needed his energy refill for the game today.

The game today!

His head snapped up and he dropped his fork, startling Fuji and Tezuka, who both swerved in their seats towards the boy.

"Ryoma?"

"Excuse me!" Ryoma managed through the food in his mouth, gulping down half his glass of water in one go and rushing up the stairs. "I'll be back, no one touches my food!" he called back as his back disappeared further into the hallway.

There was apprehensive silence.

"What's up with him?" wondered a perplexed Akaya.

"Ore-sama has a faint suspicion," Atobe started.

"No one's asking you, Atobe," Fuji bitterly snapped, voice dripping with hostility. Tezuka yet again remained emotionless, detached and indifferent, not even seeming to hear the starting spat between two of the considered elites in the ranks.

"And I'm answering no one," Atobe snapped back.

Fuji opened his eyes—much to everyone else's absolute terror—and was about to shoot something back at the dubbed monkey king when Ryoma came flouncing down the stairs, before plopping back into his seat.

He returned to his food wordlessly, looking more awake and alert, yet holding no significant physical difference from five minutes ago. The clothes remained rumpled, the hair remained unkempt.

"What was that about, Ryoma?" asked Tezuka, forehead creasing slightly.

"Nothing," Ryoma shrugged. "I just forgot to do something last night."

Tezuka raised an eyebrow but let the matter slide as his eyes caught a glance of the wall clock. It was ticking towards eight in the morning.

"Minna, finish up," he turned towards the table, clearly addressing his teammates. "You have one hour to prepare. We're leaving by nine."

There was the sound of increased jostling over the food and decreased chatter as the teams hurried to finish their breakfast. The competition was scheduled at ten this morning, and as such, the whole school would probably be there to witness it. Tachibana, Atobe and Yukimura had promised their presence, but they all needed to present themselves to school first and excuse the team before going to Seigaku.

"You guys don't need to bother and go, you know," Ryoma snorted through his food, catching the attention of the whole table. "It'll be finished before you arrive anyways."

Momoshiro smirked. "Gaki… is that alright, boasting right out of the bat already?"

"It's true," shrugged Ryoma. Eiji was bouncing in agreement, and the rest of the table simply chuckled, used to the boastful honesty Ryoma possessed.

The whole school was in an uproar. The tennis club—the most highly held sports club in the school—was having a match with another tennis team. A newly formed one. And whoever loses would be ousted, the winner proclaimed as varsity.

No one ever expected these were the bets over the fight. It was far too big and extraordinary of an event that almost everyone actually skipped classes and rushed over to the crowded tennis courts to watch the game. Some spectators settled for the windows in the building nearby, and some settled with binoculars on the roof.

But everyone wanted to watch.

Especially if there was a Wimbledon winner competing in it.

The whole school board was there, sitting in a line at the most prime position on the third level bleachers, the whole court premise in their plain view. No one ever took the current tennis club seriously, and they were extremely surprised to see the number of students willing to watch the matches. Even though the tennis club was the highest funded, it wasn't in the highest standard. (Now, everyone knew whom to blame for that.)

As the morning reached ten, the official tennis team, consisting of Akita, Takeda, Nori, Ruichi, Yokubou, twin second years named Hirako and Hirami, and another senior named Takaya. They entered the courts amidst murmurs and loud intrigued chatters.

"Now that's pretty rude," one junior voiced. "Supposedly, if there's a challenger, the challenger should enter the courts first before the challenged comes."

"Isn't this like a slap to the face or something?" snorted another voice.

"For a sportsman, it is," nodded a guy who was known for being in the basketball team.

Then there was even louder chattering, loud cheering and welcoming claps as the challenger team came, led by a firm Tezuka. The rest of the team closely followed behind, faces all set in expressions of complete and absolute determination.

The team entered the courts, all wearing plain white jerseys to maintain a symbol of unity. They all settled their bags down on the bench seats, completely at ease and full of confidence. This was something they could do without stressing themselves out.

Still—as their beloved captain was fond of quoting—they can't afford carelessness.

The referee clambered up the umpire chair and called for the two teams to line up, signaling the start of the competition.

It was decided that Inui was not playing in this competition, therefore the dataman remained standing by the benches just at the edge of the bleachers. This court was not the usual court style with seven-foot metal net fences, but the competition-style courts where the court was lower than the actual bleachers by about four feet, and thus guaranteeing viewers prime view of the matches.

Seigaku was used to hosting exhibition matches and inter-school competitions, and that was why there were courts designed like this for the special fights. The ordinary courts were still there, though, used for practice and normal matches.

The two teams lined up at the center, separated by the green net waving slightly with the breeze passing through the open court.

Fuji smiled, tilting his head back. "Ah… perfect conditions," he grinned.

"For your Hakugei, ne?" Ryoma muttered, nodding as he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

Just then, Nanjiroh came waltzing into the courts, whistling a happy tune as his hands remained tucked into the sleeves of his brown monk robes. The referee did a double take.

"Oi, you!" the referee called, making Nanjiroh look up. "Non-players are not allowed in the courts!"

Nanjiroh raised one eyebrow. "But surely the coach is?"

"That's exactly why I'm asking you to get off the courts, sir," the referee tried to say politely. "Only coaches and players are allowed in."

"So I have the right to be here after all!" Nanjiroh grinned, placing both hands behind his head.

Before the referee could throw another scathing remark at the man dressed in monk robes, Kurenai-kuchou spoke through the microphone.

"Referee, this is Echizen-san. He is the standing coach of the challenger team," she announced, much to the surprise of everyone.

Murmurs erupted, and the chatter turned up even louder.

"A monk as a coach?"

"Are they crazy?"

"I tell you, man, they are out of their minds."

"They must have been real desperate."

"Challenging the team and now a monk as a coach…"

"…they're really crazy…"

"They'll get steamrollered in this…"

"I admit, our team's not national standards, but an amateur team can't just win it, can they?"

Ryoma cocked an eyebrow at the edible whispers the crowd was passing through one another.

"I thought they favored you guys," he remarked, looking up at Oishi, who was on his left side.

"They do, but they're doubtful," Oishi chuckled, ignoring the glare that came from Yokubou, who was across him.

"It's normal. The tennis team here is strong too, just not as strong as what you and me would expect, Ryoma-chan," Fuji explained, placing a hand on top of Ryoma's capped head. "The tennis team members know who's going to win, though. Look at them."

Ryoma's eyes flitted towards the opposite side of the bleachers, where the other tennis team members were sitting, half-heartedly cheering for their home team. He could plainly see hope flickering in those faces, and he could practically hear their minds cheering for them, not for the home team. These members wanted a new team.

Ryoma smirked. Well, your lucky stars granted your wishes.

Kinouyama-sensei entered the courts. She was the Phys. Ed. teacher, and she often stood as the coach for the team when they competed, but she did not really govern the practices and whatnot. She was simply an ornamental head.

"Captains, shake hands!" the referee called. Akita and Tezuka reached out and shook hands. From Ryoma's point of view, though, they looked like they were trying to outlast the other and crush each other's hands. He was satisfied to see that when Tezuka let go, Akita covertly flexed his hands very slightly, but enough for his sharp, golden eyes.

He smirked.

The teams walked away from the net, Eiji bouncing his way to his seat giddily, as if unaffected by the tension heavily hanging in dredges over the court.

"We will now start with Doubles 2," announced the referee. He looked down to the clipboard in his lap. "Home team: Nori-kun and Yokubou-kun!"

Nori and Yokubou both stood up with their rackets. Ryoma grimaced at the familiarity with which the referee referred to their names. It made it seem like the referee was biased and was siding with the home team. Then again, it could be just his imagination.

"Challenger team: Momoshiro Takeshi-kun and Kaidoh Kaoru-kun!"

Now this time, it was more formal and proper. Ryoma frowned. It was not his imagination. He wanted so badly to throw a ball at the referee's head.

"Yosh, Momo-chan, Mamu-chan, go down there and wake them up!" Nanjiroh childishly cheered, punching one fist up in the air while still sitting down on the coach bench with his legs crossed. Behind him were the players benches, where the rest of them sat.

"Go, go, Momoshi! Go, go, mamushi!" chanted Eiji, playfully banging an empty bottle of coke against the coach bench in front of him.

"Eiji, hush!" Oishi reprimanded, snatching the bottle from the hyper redhead.

"But, Oishiiiiii!" complained Eiji, his voice overriding the whole crowd's whispered conversation. "I want to cheer! Since no one is cheering for us, I will! Everyone else is afraid to cheer because of the other team, so I will cheer on my own!!"

Oishi sweat dropped. "Not as loud as that…"

"If it's not loud, it doesn't mean anything because no one hears it!" Eiji positively screeched. "GO MOMO! GO KAIDOH! MOP THE FLOOR WITH THEIR FACES!!!"

Just then, a voice from the crowd interrupted. "Momoshiro, mamushi, you heard your senpai! It would be rude to disobey!"

Kamio grinned from the top of the bleachers, backed by Tachibana, Sakurai, Ishida, Shinji, a boy with very light blue hair and piercing all over his ears, another boy with shocking yellow hair grinning from ear to ear, and one boy with white hair—whether that was natural, Ryoma wanted to ask—and green, twinkling, mischievous eyes on a scowling face. They all looked like freshmen.

"I hope we aren't too late, Tezuka," Tachibana said, descending towards the edge of the bleachers near the team. The crowd made way for them as murmurs once more flitted their way through the spectators.

"It's Fudou Koto!"

"What are they doing here?"

"They know the challengers?"

"Wow, they look strong…"

"They're not as strong as Midorigaoka, though…"

Ryoma sighed, the whispers of conversations in plain audibility.

"No, you're not late," Tezuka greeted, standing up and shaking hands with Tachibana. Tachibana did a turnaround and motioned for the three young freshmen who were with them.

"These are our new regulars," Tachibana introduced.

"Oka Shinichi," the blue-haired kid plainly said, looking bored.

The blonde nudged him. "Hey, don't be like that, Shin," the boy said. "I'm Aoya Asuka! Pleased to meet you!" he exclaimed boisterously. Then he caught sight of Eiji. "Ahhhh!! Eiji-senpai! I'm soooooo like a total idol of you!!! Your Seal Step is THE BEST!!" the boy positively screeched, latching onto Eiji and making Ryoma wince.

Eiji remained unperturbed and grinned widely. "Deshou, deshou? I'm the best!! Buiii!!"

"Oh no," groaned Shinichi. "Two sugar high maniacs."

"Kairou Toushi, pleasure," the white-haired freshman said in a clipped tone. Apparently, he was in a not-so-good mood.

Then, another cheerful voice called out.

"Fuji-saaaaan!" called a bouncing Jirou, prancing his way down the stairs and up to Fuji, who smiled and greeted the eager sleepyhead. Shortly behind Jirou followed Hyotei and—to the whole crowd's surprise—the champions, Rikkaidai.

Well, actually, ex-champions. Midorigaoka stole the throne after all.

Atobe flounced down the stairs in all his glory—Ryoma choked—followed obediently by Kabaji and the rest of Hyotei. Rikkaidai followed behind them.

"Yokatta, we aren't late," Yukimura smiled. "Tezuka, good luck. We'll be rooting for you."

"Arigato," nodded Tezuka.

"Now, don't you dare lose, Tezuka," Atobe warningly chided. "That's unacceptable. We want a real Seigaku team to be there at the Nationals."

Tezuka and Atobe stared each other down as the crowd's whispers grew louder and wilder.

"Do you even know who you're talking to, Atobe?" Ryoma snorted, his chin cupped in his hand as he leaned his elbow on the coach bench in front of him. "That's Tezuka-buchou you're talking to, the Tezuka-buchou whom I took so long to defeat, the Tezuka-buchou whom I didn't defeat as easily as I defeated you."

Atobe smirked. Oh, it was so easy to provoke the young one.

"There is no harm in voicing your thoughts, Ryoma-kun," Atobe pointed out. "It's actually better that way. I'm just making sure there is a Seigaku team in the Nationals. Or else it will be boring as hell."

"Don't worry, Atobe, rest assured, we'll mop the floor with their asses," Ryoma snapped back, jerking his head towards the other team who were glaring holes through them. If glares could ignite and if they could burn easily, they would be ashes by now. "And then we'll kick your butts and claim the championship again," Ryoma smirked.

"Now you're speaking, gaki," Momoshiro chuckled.

"Fssssh, I like that idea," Kaidoh nodded.

"I'm game, I'm game!" Eiji eagerly bounced.

"Oh, we won't let you win so easily," Yukimura warned, still smiling. It eerily reminded Eiji of Fuji's smile. "Right, Genichirou?"

Sanada nodded, smirking.

"Then I'm looking forward to facing you again, Emperor Sanada," Ryoma smirked. "Or, even better, facing you, Yukimura-buchou."

"Same here, Echizen-kun," Yukimura said, his smile widening even more. Nanjiroh remained seated and speechless through the whole ordeal, simply smiling lightly.

"Oi, are we going to start the fight, or are you guys going to chatter off over there all day?" Yokubou snapped rudely. He threw a glare at the referee, who quickly recovered from shock and called out the start of the game.

"One set match! Challenger service!"

"Yosh, mamushi, let's do this!" Momoshiro grinned. Kaidoh nodded, taking his place at the middle line while Momoshiro took his place on the service spot. Wasting no time, the power hitter pulled out a ball, tossed it high up, bent back and let go, his body springing forward and his arm hitting the ball at the prime moment on the prime spot.

The sharp shotgun sound of the ball being hit startled some of the spectators as the ball whizzed a yellow blur across the court and bounced off, untouched.

"15-love!"

"Don," Momoshiro grinned.

The game went on quite uneventfully as Kaidoh and Momoshiro continued pulverizing Nori and Yokubou. Surprisingly, the two managed to steal two games from Momoshiro and Kaidoh, but Ryoma pointed out bluntly that it was obvious Kaidoh and Momoshiro were both not being serious.

They were still playing around.

As they finished the fourth round, Momoshiro nudged Kaidoh. "Mamushi, have you forgotten? We have to show off for the board."

"I know," Kaidoh hissed back. "Alright, give me an opening."

Momoshiro grinned. "Leave it to me."

Momoshiro executed a perfect fake, observing the opponent's reactions carefully. He shot the ball in such a way that made the opponent volley it back towards the right corner. Momoshiro made a run for it, leaving the left side open intentionally. Nori smirked and hit the ball towards the left but—

"Mamushi!" called Momoshiro.

Kaidoh darted towards the left side, lowered his racket, picked the rising ball up and returned it back in a whirlwind of yellow.

"15-love!"

"Fsssshhh…"

"YEAH, TORNADO SNAKE!" Eiji yelled, jumping out of his seat. "It's been so looooooooong since I last saw it!"

"They're showing off, aren't they?" Toushi, the white-haired boy from Fudou remarked, startling the others. He's been silent since they arrived.

"They must be," shrugged Shin. "There was no need for that… what was it? Tornado Snake? Yeah, that."

"They're showing off for the board," pointed out Inui.

"Oh."

The game was ended quite quickly, with 6-2 in favor of the challenger team. Momoshiro came back grinning with his arms behind his head, while Kaidoh followed, hissing with his eyes closed.

"Good work, Kaidoh, Momoshiro," Tezuka appraised.

"Aa, but these weights are killing me," Momoshiro groaned as he sank into the bench, fingering the weights strapped around his wrists. They looked like ordinary wristbands though.

"Weights?" echoed Shin, Toushi and Asuka.

"Weights," nodded Nanjiroh. "That reminds me… you three are joining the camp too, so you'll have to wear them."

"Ehh?!" Asuka exclaimed. He turned to the nearest person, who turned out to be Atobe, and grabbed his arm. Asuka pulled one weight off Atobe's arm. "Just how heavy is th—IS! No WAY!" he yelled, as he held the weight in his hand. "This is like… as heavy as an elephant!"

"Asuka, you won't be able to hold it in your hands if that was as heavy as an elephant," Toushi bluntly pointed out.

"Still—"

The conversation was about to go further, but the referee called. "Home team: Hirako-kun and Hirami-kun! Challenger team: Oishi Syuuichiro-kun and Kikumaru Eiji-kun!"

Eiji bounced forward eagerly, racket in one hand and Oishi's wrist in the other.

"E-Eiji!"

"Yosh, let's go, let's go!" he cheered, practically dragging his doubles partner to the net, much to the amusement of the crowd. As the referee called for the handshake, Eiji split into two.

"Yoroshiku!" chimed the twin Eijis in front of them, grinning fancily before flashing similar 'V' signs.

Hirako, who was in front of him, did a double take.

There was silence over the crowd.

…

Kurenai-kuchou rubbed her eyes under her glasses. "Two…?" she wondered aloud.

Sumire chuckled. "They really haven't changed a bit."

Eiji grinned proudly. He was able to shock the whole crowd. "Hunya, I shocked the crowd! I'm the best!"

"Kyaaa, the best!!" screeched Asuka, turning into his fanboy mode.

Ryoma sweatdropped. "Anyone would be shocked with that, Kikumaru-senpai."

Eiji ignored him, rejoining into one and bouncing toward his position as Oishi sighed and walked towards the service spot. Oishi bounced the ball on the ground, before tossing it up in the air and hitting it with measured precision and pinpoint accuracy. When it came to Oishi, precision and accuracy was nothing.

The game started as the ball was returned and Eiji started moving, slowly laying out his net play.

"Dammit, where the hell was it again?" grumbled a small, lithe figure as he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, looking left and right. Clueless and estranged, he struggled to remember the instructions he was given.

He weighed his options.

Option One: Call home.

But of course, no one would answer, because no one was home. Having taken an earlier flight in his eagerness to arrive earlier and see the matches, he arrived far earlier than his supposed companion.

Option Two: Call him.

But of course, he can't, because he could be in a match and then no one would answer. Or they would answer, but he didn't want that.

Option Three: Ask around.

But it would be easier if these people stopped avoiding him or sending him querying glances every time he made a move.

Option Four: Stay lost.

Now that was not an option. He did not waste precious money just to miss what he came early for.

He sighed, dropped his head and turned to option three.

Here goes nothing.

Ryoma sighed, dropping his head as Eiji bounced in glee, having won the game 6-4. The twins Hirako and Hirami were good, and Fuji told him that Tezuka was already thinking of pulling them into the team. They would be good support for the doubles after all.

This sealed it: they would be the official team in less than an hour.

But…

He frowned, removing his chin from his hand and looking around the crowd, his eyes scanning faces and waiting for a hit of recognition.

None.

…where the hell is he?

His frown deepened even more.

Why do I have the feeling that he's lost?

He snorted inwardly.

Of COURSE he's lost, how could he not be? He's the worst when it comes to finding places and following instructions.

"Singles Three! Home team: Takeda-kun! Challenger team: Echizen Ryoma-kun!"

The crowd broke into loud whispers, cheering, eager catcalls and murmured rumors as his name was called out. He sighed, dropping his head even lower. Oh, how he hated fans.

He stood up and stretched his back languidly, feeling several bones crack into place. He yawned along with it, before he bent back down and unzipped his bag, rummaging inside for a familiar red racket inside that was easily found and taken out. As he checked the string tension, his ears couldn't help but pick up snippets of the crowd's conversations.

"That's him, that's him! The champion!"

"…he's so small…"

Ryoma's eyebrow twitched visibly. Fuji giggled.

"…is that really him?"

"Yeah, that is, look! He's in this magazine!"

"…he's so damned confident…"

"I would be confident, if I were him…"

"…yeah, being a Wimbledon champion and all…"

"Isn't he only a freshman?"

"…that makes him all the more cooler!"

He winced at the high pitched squeal from a group of girls to his right. His eyebrow twitched two more times—three, before he sighed and pushed his temper down, twisting the racket experimentally in his right hand before he relaxed his shoulders and walked forward towards the net.

His eyes scanned the crowd again for a flash of light blonde.

None.

"Now, don't lose, Ryoma-kun," Atobe called.

"I don't need you looking over my back, monkey king," he snapped.

"Ryoma. Let's not be careless," Tezuka said.

"Hai, buchou," Ryoma nodded obediently.

"Good luck, Ryoma-chan," Fuji's gentle voice called out.

"Domo," nodded Ryoma, smiling slightly. Fuji's voice brought him unprecedented comfort every time.

He turned and walked all the way towards the net, facing Takeda, who was at least a foot taller than him. That was what he thought as he looked up, avoiding cricking his neck.

He couldn't help but wonder what a tall person was doing playing tennis instead of doing basketball.

He sighed and frowned as he re-scanned the crowd yet again.

Fuji noticed this behavior and frowned. The tensai took a glance towards Tezuka, who saw his action and frowned as well. The very slight downturn of the captain's mouth was unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but Fuji caught it, being the usually overly observant and perceptive person he was. Ryoma was searching for something… or someone.

The game started quite uneventfully for the spectators.

Ryoma did nothing extraordinary. He didn't do smashes, flashy tricks, any of his techniques. He returned the balls, sure, but there was no energy behind them. He didn't exploit any of the three chance balls and let them pass, and he didn't exploit the huge, gaping holes in Takeda's play.

He did nothing whatsoever.

In fact, he kept on missing the balls.

"40-love!"

Takeda smirked from the other side of the court as Ryoma failed to catch up to the extremely slow ball that was lobbed across the court.

There was silence as Ryoma turned his back on his opponent and walked back to the receiving post.

Fuji's frown deepened. Ryoma was evidently doing this on purpose. Those balls were far too obvious to be missed. Ryoma was not the type of person who would stall or miss without a reason.

What are you waiting for, Ryoma?

Tezuka sighed, folding his arms over his chest and apparently deciding to wait and see what Ryoma has in mind.

"Is he doing this on purpose?"

"I thought he was a Wimbledon champion…"

"…is he stalling?"

"What would he be stalling for, idiot?"

"…maybe he's studying his enemy."

"That could be it."

"Nooooo!" Horio wailed from the bleachers. "What is he doing?!?"

"Ryoma-kun, hurry up and finish it!" called out Kachiro.

"He can finish this in like five minutes!" Katsuo groaned.

"What's wrong with him?" Tomoka groaned. "Ryoma-kuuuuuuuuun!"

"Ryoma-kun…" Sakuno whispered worriedly.

Ryoma ignored the calls, flipping his racket as he moved into position. Takeda served the ball quickly. Ryoma's foot twitched in its place, the reflex to chase and catch the ball kicking in, but he did not move to retrieve the ball. He overrode his instincts.

Fuji opened his eyes, catching the faint telltale movement. The boy was doing it on purpose. Behind him, Atobe snorted, Sanada sighed and Yukimura chuckled. Tezuka simply closed his eyes, a faint crease on his forehead disappearing. Apparently, he was not the only one who noticed.

The boy had a reason, and all they had to do was trust him. Trust the boy and wait.

"1-0!"

There was silence.

Ryoma lost a game in straight points.

Eiji was about to wail out loud when a strong voice yelled out.

"ECHIZEN RYOMA, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

Heads whipped towards the direction of the voice.

A young man with blue eyes and shoulder-length blonde hair—a foreigner, apparently—stood there, eyes burning and staring a hole right through Ryoma. He wore simple shorts, sports shoes and an open jersey over his red-and-white shirt underneath. Brown-tinted sunglasses perched securely upon the bright blonde head, and a huge bag—a tennis bag—slung over a slender, muscular shoulder.

Ryoma chuckled.

"Took you long enough. Where've you been, idiot?"

Tsuzuku

Hu-weeeeeeeeeeeee!!! Cliffie again!!! You guys can guess who that is, right? Nyeheheh...

I LOVE cliffies.

Kiasidira Ixari
12.11.06