dear everyone,

damn. the other day kame left a review that really whipped me into shape. i went back and pain-stakingly edited all the chapters so that the character of yamada wouldn't be as stupid. now:

---kuroda has becoma the whiny, snivelly type VICE-captain

---and yamada is the manipulative, creepy captain who was suspended for unknown reasons and then came back.

i really needed a villain so yamada was forced into that role...i'm sorry it makes no sense. editing old chapters makes me want to die, so there will be more about his psychotic character in future chapters.


"Takashima leads, 1-0."

Takashima didn't exactly have pinpoint accuracy, but his shots were amazingly powerful. Ryoma would have struggled even using his left hand, and with only his right Takashima scored three straight points. Still, the other boy seemed surprised by how refined his right-handed playing was, and Ryoma made a comeback on sloppy mistakes. It wasn't enough.

He kept his own service game using his Twist Serve. His muscles were sluggish and it wasn't as fast as it normally was, but Takashima didn't return it until his third try.

"1-1. Takashima to serve."

In a straight up rally, Ryoma was quicker. He managed to break Takashima's service, but it took a lot of effort.

"2-1, advantage Seigaku. Change court."

"Hot," Ryoma complained, collapsing onto the bench.

"Not bad so far," Fuji said, handing the other boy his water bottle. "But you can't let him get away with those smashes."

There was one smash in particular - the crowd called it the Earthquake Smash, which Ryoma thought was a very stupid name. But it was accurate, nonetheless, in that his racket shook with the strain of returning it. Takashima didn't use it often because they were both trying to conserve energy, but Ryoma still hadn't managed to return it.

Takashima looked determined now, and he threw in more smashes - to opposite ends of the court, and Ryoma was forced to play defensively. He knew he needed to regain control before he lost too much stamina...but how?

Ryoma looked down at his racket, wondering. Higuma Otoshi required almost perfect balance...could he pull it off using only his right hand?

***

"3-1, Seigaku leads. Takashima to serve. Change court."

"I can't believe he can do that!" one of the middle schoolers shrieked. Despite the disappointed shouts of the Hyotei players, Higuma Otoshi was again successful.

Another of Ryoma's teammates, this one holding a notebook and a pencil, was craning his neck towards Inui's data. "But I don't understand, buchou shouldn't be able to use that with his right hand - "

"Ahem," Inui said, pulling his own notebook out of reach. "Consider that Higuma Otoshi would be easier for Echizen to copy than other moves. Fuji and Echizen share somewhat similar playing styles."

"It's true," Momo said suddenly. "When they're both serious, anyway."

"They wouldn't make a good doubles pairing, then," Horio said smugly. "I told you, Echizen can't - "

"Incorrect," Inui said. "The best doubles pairings have similar strengths. For example, Eiji and Oishi both have amazing control, which manifests in different ways. This allows them to play off each other and gain an advantage over - "

He broke off as Takashima returned a particularly difficult shot, Hyotei supporters erupting into cheers. Seigaku joined in a second later, as Ryoma finished off the game with a drop volley.

"4-1, Seigaku leads."

Inui waited until Horio was paying attention before continuing. He could tell Tezuka was intrigued, too, but he wasn't as obvious in showing it.

"Echizen is able to predict where the ball will go relying solely on his opponent's body language. In this weather that gives him the advantage, because he can conserve his energy. And if you watch Fuji play, it's a similar kind of perceptiveness."

"But Echizen would never play doubles!" Horio shrieked, sounding exasperated. "Inui-senpai, you just don't get it!"

Inui just shrugged. His data was never wrong.

***

That's when everything stopped.

The pain in his arm wrenched into focus. It was hot, too hot, and everything felt heavy and awkward.

Yamada was there, leaning against the Hyotei fence. The other boy smirked at his expression.

"Hyotei," the other boy mouthed, along with the crowd. "Hyotei will win."

Ryoma dropped his gaze, suddenly feeling sick. How much power did Yamada still have? What were his limits? Tezuka and Fuji and even the middle schoolers were tangled in this...it was too much.

"Game to Hyotei. 4-3, Seigaku still leads. Change court."

He sat down shakily on the bench, too caught up to focus on tennis. Fuji tugged on his racket to get his attention, and Ryoma tried and failed to meet his gaze. Fuji would hate him, if he knew.

"Do you want to forfeit the match?"

Ryoma was about to spit out an instinctive no...but then paused, thinking. Forfeiting. With his injury, he could twist his way out -

"What is the matter with you?"

He stopped considering it immediately, feeling somewhat guilty at Fuji's expression. There were people depending on him, he knew, and forfeiting was a cowardly way out. But Yamada wanted him to lose...

***

"Come on, Ochibi!" Eiji said desperately. "What's wrong?"

"He's not used to relying on the same hand for so long, especially his right hand," Inui pointed out. "And he's slightly off-balance with that cast."

Eiji shook his head. "It's more than that. He's so...he's so...."

"Lost," Momo supplied. "Like he doesn't want to be here."

The middle school regulars turned to look at him fearfully.

"Are we going to lose, Inui-senpai?" Takeda wanted to know.

Inui cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, if the situation continues -"

"It can't!" Eiji moaned.

"5-4. Hyotei leads."

***

Ryoma couldn't do it. He couldn't do anything. Even if he wanted to, his body remembered the incident with his broken wrist. Everything was slow, painful, hot.

"Brat!"

The voice cut into his thoughts, familiar and annoying all at once. He flicked his eyes to the fence, caught off balance by Atobe's glare. He didn't understand. Atobe should be happy with the way things were turning out.

Hyotei will win...

"Hyotei will not win in such a disgusting manner!"

Ryoma lowered his racket, hoping Atobe would shut up. He didn't have enough energy to ignore him.

"Play seriously, or I'll make you regret it!"

Stop. You'll regret it.

Something became clear to him with those words. These could be the last four points he played. Ever.

Stop!

The middle schoolers and the high schoolers clutched the fence, screamed words of encouragement. His team would be so disappointed...he owed it at least to them, as their captain.

Yamada could fucking go to hell if he didn't understand that.

With that thought, Ryoma served - for his friends, for his team, for himself. The ball sliced through the heat and hit the opposite court with a deafening crack.

Takashima blinked, and Atobe shrieked. Ryoma would have to make fun of the girlish noise later, for now...

"Aren't you going to call it?"

The referees clustered around the video monitor, and Ryoma rolled his eyes. If they had been paying any attention, they would have seen the ball landed almost directly in the center of the court.

"15-0."

***

The sun poured down on the courts as it neared noon. Any remaining shade had vanished, but no one left to find more. The bleachers were dead silent, the ending potentially one point away.

The energy that went into the game was incredible. Ryoma and Takashima weren't playing...they were fighting. Every opening was exploited, every exploitation needed revenge. Yamada was watching, and waiting.

"6-5. Seigaku leads."

Takashima's posture said he wouldn't let Ryoma win. He couldn't. He scrubbed the sweat out of his eyes and threw the ball up to serve...knowing by now that Ryoma's weak spot was his left side, near the baseline.

Ryoma saw it, knew where the ball was going. His body was screaming at his to switch to his injured hand and smash it back, but he wouldn't. He thought of Eiji, twisting his body around and jumping...

The racket connected solidly, smoothly, the ball soaring to Takashima's baseline...

It was in.

"7-5. Game and match, Sei - "

The rest of the sentence faded away as Seigaku screamed their victory. The fight was over, the finals were waiting...but Fuji could tell something was off. He hung back on the bench, watching Ryoma carefully.

The post game handshake was something of a subdued affair. Fuji knew Ryoma well enough by now to see the boy was apologizing for something. It was in the way he looked at Takashima, the way he held his racket close to his side. But Ryoma never apologized to his opponents. Something was wrong.

The curl of his fingers gave it away. He was afraid. Fuji followed his gaze, and suddenly knew.

He did it.

***

"We'll talk later," Ryoma promised, knowing now wasn't the time or the place. Takashima nodded, and Ryoma turned away, eyes automatically sliding to the bench.

Fuji wasn't there.

But he wouldn't leave...unless...

Ryoma whirled around, but Yamada was nowhere to be seen. His team moved forward to congratulate him, but Ryoma pushed them away and ran.

***

"Why did you do it?" Fuji demanded, his hands clenched into fists.

Yamada only tilted his head to the side and smiled, sickeningly bitter. "I told you that you'd regret it."

"You're done." Fuji felt like throwing up, lashing out, stopping him...he lunged forward, and Yamada's head hit the pavement with a horrid crack before he shot up, angry and intense and needing control. He had the weight advantage over Fuji but the other boy didn't seem to care. They tangled with punches and kicks and everything in between, spilling blood onto the burning concrete.

"Fuji-senpai!" he heard someone say. Ryoma. Fuji felt a small hand on his shoulder for the briefest of moments, heard the fear in his voice.

He hesitated, and that was enough for Yamada to slam a fist against his cheek. Pain splintered across his face, his vision blurred...

When he recovered, Fuji froze. Yamada had Ryoma pinned against the concrete, a hysterical look in his eyes.

"You have to stop it!" he shrieked, wrapping his hands around Ryoma's neck.

Fuji was terrified by the person in front of him, terrified for Ryoma. He started forward, but Yamada shrieked and shook his head, tightening his grip on Ryoma's throat. Ryoma choked out a plea and tugged at Yamada's hands, but the high schooler didn't even notice.

"Don't move, don't do anything, you have to stay there!"

His eyes were wild and unfocused, and Fuji's heart was pounding. There was nothing he could do, Yamada was so angry...

"What the fuck is going on?"

***

Atobe didn't think twice before throwing himself on Ryoma's attacker. The other boy blindly lashed out, but Atobe was able to dodge the kick before slamming him into the ground. His opponent went quiet, still, and the silence filled with the sound of Ryoma choking in air.

"What happened?" Atobe demanded, anxiously checking the other boy for injuries.

Ryoma didn't answer or push him away, his eyes wide and frightened as he took in his attacker's unconscious form. Atobe followed his gaze, and couldn't help but yell out when he realized who it was. Seigaku's captain, Yamada Taiki. But why...?

"He deserved it."

Atobe whirled around, belatedly remembering the presence of a fourth person. He received an immense shock for the second time that day, coming face to face with Fuji Syuusuke.

Blood was dripping down the side of Fuji's face, and Atobe could almost feel the anger radiating off of him. Something was missing. He hadn't remembered Fuji being so violent...or Ryoma being this afraid.

"You better have a damn good reason for this," Atobe said tightly.

"He did it," Fuji said, eyes frighteningly intense.

Ryoma snapped out of his shock, hurriedly tucking his cast behind his back.

Too late. Atobe's eyes widened as he made the connection, and a second later he grabbed Ryoma by the shoulders.

"Why didn't you tell anyone, you brat!"

He didn't care how upset he sounded. If Fuji hadn't already done it -

"I'm sorry," Ryoma said miserably.

Before Atobe could figure out what to say to this, Yamada groaned and rolled over. Atobe immediately go of Ryoma and went to the Seigaku captain, roughly pulling him to his feet.

"Tezuka first," he snapped, tugging on the other boy's arm. "Then tournament officials."

Yamada was looking dazedly at the ground, and Fuji watched him carefully. "Want me to come with?"

"He's messed up enough for me to handle," Atobe answered. He nodded towards Ryoma, who was cradling his left wrist and staring blankly towards the fence. "You stay with him."

"Good luck," Fuji told him.

"And to you."

***

Only the Seigaku players were hanging around to celebrate, so Atobe's purple and white definitely caught their attention. And there was Yamada, bleeding heavily from the nose and limping pathetically, but still recognizable.

Atobe ignored the whispers and stares as he approached Tezuka. Yamada resisted for the first time, muttering something and trying to pull back, but Atobe only tightened his grip.

"Can we talk?" he asked Tezuka.

Tezuka nodded, his expression revealing nothing more than a flicker or surprise. He stepped to a more private area by the fence, and his teammates respectfully hung back.

"He did it," Atobe said, getting straight to the point. "Ryoma's wrist, I mean."

A long moment passed, and Tezuka only looked at the other boy, face expressionless.

"Why?" he finally asked.

There was something strange, something distant about Yamada's eyes. Atobe knew he hadn't hit the other boy that hard, but perhaps Fuji had done something...

Tezuka sighed and started walking to the medical tent. His clenched fists betrayed the anger he was feeling, but he didn't act on it. Atobe was struck by the power, the self-control he had.

"Is Fuji alright?" Tezuka asked, realizing why the tensai had disappeared so suddenly.

"His injuries didn't seem too bad," Atobe answered. "And he's calmed down some. So yes, I think he's fine."

Tezuka hesitated slightly before asking his next question. "And Echizen?"

"I'm...I'm not sure."

***

Neither one of them said anything for a long time. They didn't move, either, despite the painful heat of the sun.

Ryoma was relieved no one had come to look for them. He could hear people on the other side of the equipment shed yelling out goodbyes and plans for after parties…truthfully, he didn't think he could stomach their enthusiasm. Not when he felt like such a failure.

Fuji was strangely quiet next to him, and he rolled onto his side to study the other boy. The high schooler was staring absently at something through the fence, his face revealing nothing of his true feelings. The cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding, but Fuji didn't seem to have noticed.

Ryoma briefly wondered if he could slip away without Fuji noticing, and immediately felt guilty at the thought. Fuji had given so much to him, and the least he could do was offer was an explanation. Though he wasn't quite sure where to being…it had something to do with Yamada being angry and his family so far away and him not quite knowing what to do…

He exhaled, slowly, then went to the sinks for a wet paper towel. Fuji took it from him with a muttered thanks and pressed it over the wound on his cheek. It was a long cut, but shallow, and with the blood gone it didn't seem quite so bad. Ryoma swallowed his relief, tried to say something.

"Did he…do anything else?"

Immediately, Fuji flicked his eyes to Ryoma's cast. Ryoma instinctively tucked his broken wrist behind him, and then felt foolish for doing so.

"Fuji-senpai, I…"

Should he apologize? Was Fuji upset with him? He trailed off, took the paper towel and finished cleaning the wound. Fuji sat in silence, watching.

"He…he told me I couldn't play tennis next year."

Fuji tensed at this, but Ryoma swallowed his fear and continued.

"He was so angry at you, at Tezuka…"

Fuji suddenly grabbed his uninjured wrist, and Ryoma froze. The touch was gentle, but he still felt trapped by it.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I...I was scared." It was hard to admit, but it was the truth.

"Damn it, Ryoma, I was too!"

The intensity, the honesty made him pull back. He jerked his wrist away, felt his fear give way to anger.

"You can't say that!"

"Why not?"

"Because – because…"

You're not supposed to care so much!

Ryoma couldn't say it, couldn't understand it. His life had changed so much in a single month…now it was Fuji who gave him comfort, a place to stay…then he'd gone and put his life in danger. It was all so wrong. He tried to stop his tears from forming but now that his world had turned upside down everything was so difficult

"Please, don't hate me," Ryoma finally managed, hating how pathetic he sounded. "Just… "

He couldn't think, not when Fuji was starting at him like that. Something in his expression made him dizzy, or maybe it was just the heat…

And then, suddenly, Fuji suddenly closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against Ryoma's.

He was trapped, unable to move or think but somehow everything felt right – the softness of Fuji's hair, the light touch of his hands, the sweetness of his kiss. It was gentle, so gentle that he shivered, and Fuji only pulled him closer and Ryoma never felt so safe.

His arms found their way around Fuji's neck and he moaned, pleading for caution to be thrown away. He felt Fuji hesitate ever so slightly, then something new, raw, passionate as Fuji's hands curled his hands around his hips. Their tongues brushed and it was as though he was drowning in something beautifully complete...and then the sharp, dizzying inhale made everything stop.

With a jarring clarity, the logical part of his mind took over. Ryoma pulled back, suddenly afraid.

"Fuji-senpai, I…"

He was so tired, mixed in the rush of the game and the fear of Yamada and his confusion and tears and he didn't know what to do. He saw the hurt on Fuji's face, gone so quickly he wondered if he had imagined it. He wanted to say something, wanted to know why

But then Fuji smiled that fake smile of his, got to his feet like nothing had happened. "Let's go home," he said quietly. "Yuuta will be wanting to celebrate."

The sudden change of subject threw him off balance. Ryoma struggled to remember where he was, that Seigaku had won and there were the Nationals to prepare for…but that wasn't important and he didn't feel like celebrating. The only thing he could think of was why.

Fuji-senpai, I don't understand…

***



sorry that the tennis match and the ending were so horrible, among other things. i am not very happy with this chapter at all. :(

next up: yamada goes to a psych ward (or something) and ryoma runs around talking to him and atobe, etc. later fuji and ryoma get over certain things and go on a "date"??? and could there be nanako drama right before nationals? duhhhhhh of course!