3. This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for?
«The best of one set match. Morimura Shinobu VS Yukimura Seiichi. Yukimura to serve».
Morimura reached the baseline. A lot of people were already gathering on the bleachers. They seemed to have completely forgotten the practice schedule.
Whatever. He could have let go for that day, and give them an example of what level the club was expecting from them instead.
He had let the boy serve first. Yukimura had greeted him with a nod, and the look in his eyes seemed to tell Morimura to not underestimate him. Morimura rolled the racket in his hands. The grip were brand new.
He pitched forward, racket in his right hand, ready to receive.
Yukimura moved to serve.
It was a fast first serve, but right in the centre of the service box. Morimura hit the ball right after it bounced, trowing it towards the opposite corner. 0-15. He smiled. Nice shot, though still predictable.
The next serve was slower, bit this time near the centre service line. A couple of rallies, and Yukimura didn't reach his return shot at the baseline. 0-30.
Morimura took the receiver position again. He recalled something else about the boy. Yukimura Seiichi, former captain of Rikkai's Junior High Tennis Club. Morimura attended Junior High elsewhere, but he had heard about him, something about three kids leading Rikkai at the top of the Nationals. He wished he bothered to get more information. There would be time for that.
Yukimura started again with a more powerful service, still in the center of the service box. Morimura easily hit it back, and responded at the weaker return shot with a drop volley which fell right after the net. Yukimura couldn't reach it. 0-40.
The guy didn't seem concerned. He couldn't keep a single service ball, but he still looked calm.
The next serve was near the tramline, but still too slow for Morimura to not reach it. His backhand return serve crossed the court towards the opposite corner, but Yukimura was already there, and he closed the point with a forehand to the empty half-court. 15-40
Well, that was a nice shot. The guy had predicted exactly what Morimura meant to do, and made him fall in his own trick. Hongo whistled from the umpire chair.
It hadn't been enough to hold his serve, though. Yukimura's next first serve ended against the net, and Morimura returned his second serve with a winner on the right tramline. He was leading with an early break.
«Ohi, Captain». Hongo bended down from his chair while Morimura was passing next to him to switch courts. «This kid... Good serve. Something in mind, I tell you. I've already seen this face. No-one's that calm while losing, unless he's planning your murder».
«Thank you for the advice», Morimura sighed.
He glanced at the kid. Well maybe he wasn't planning a murder, but he had indeed something in mind. He stood at the baseline, unaware of all the murmurs and cheers from the bleachers – cheers who was mostly for him; everybody likes a rebel who pops out from nowhere to challenge the Captain on his first day. The audience was clearly having fun.
Morimura reached the baseline. Now it was his turn.
He served on the center serve line. Yukimura moved forward and hit a half-volley, and answered to Morimura's flat backhand with a lob to the left corner. Morimura needed to get back to reach it, and hit the ball with a crossed forehand to the baseline. 15-0.
Morimura pushed away the sweat from his forehead. He didn't really expect that half-volley. Too much paperwork and not enough practice for him in those late weeks. Maybe he was the one who needed to restart from the basics.
Yukimura headed back to the baseline. His stubborn gaze started to become irritating.
Morimura served on the center again. Yukimura hadn't been fast enough to reach the ball this time. 30-0.
30-15. Morimura served to the left, Yukimura answered with a crossed forehand to the right, and succeeded.
Okay. That shot wasn't impossible. Morimura thought the guy wouldn't have reached it, and let his guard down for a second. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
His next first serve was almost a meter out. Shit. He took a deep breath. He had to keep his focus on. That kid… He wasn't one to play while thinking about dinner.
His second serve was slow, and Yukimura answered with a fast forehand. Morimura hit it back, but Yukimura didn't fail to answer. His forehand was fast and precise, and Morimura found himself incapable to force him to a backhand. All he could do was hit the ball and sent it across the net, without the chance to give it the trajectory he wanted to. Yukimura was controlling the rally, and all he could do was follow the ball across the court. The final drop-shot surprised him, and found him unable to reach it. 30-30.
30-40. That kid was forcing him in long rallies, and had the ability to keep them under his control. He forced Morimura to reach the net, and then tossed the ball behind his shoulders.
The last rally ended with a Morimura's low-volley hitting the net and bouncing back. Shit.
«Game, Yukimura! 1-ALL!»
To remember: avoid long rallies.
Morimura reached the bench, and grabbed a towel to dry his hair from sweat. Thrice the guy caught him off guard, and thrice he took the chance to overcame him and get the point.
A murmur surrounded the court. Morimura realized that the last rallies had been played in a funeral silence, replaced by whispers and then louder chatting as the game had ended. It wasn't difficult to guess what they were talking about.
A freshmen who breaks Captain's service game. Not the result everyone expected, obviously.
Morimura took a sip of water and then got up. Even the few ones who were still doing their own practice now were watching the match. They were offering an interesting show indeed.
It was Yukimura service game again.
It became easy for Morimura to break back to love in less than two minutes. The kid hadn't a bad service, but still too slow and too predictable for him. Morimura just needed two return aces on the baseline and two more well-placed shots on the tramlines to grab the game.
He went back to serve. Yukimura was clearly wanting to trail him into long rallies, where his excellent control of the ball would have forced his opponent into his rhythm and then wrong-footing him with a shot in his uncovered zone.
A useless skill, if he didn't allow him to drag it on for more than two shots.
«Game, Morimura! 3-1!»
He held his second service game to 30 for two doubles faults.
A risk worth taking. Morimura moved to the baseline to receive. Hongo gave him thumbs-up from the umpire chair, Mormura ignored him.
He had hit only first serves. He wouldn't dare to gave him his second serve. A slow shot would have allowed Yukimura to try and take control of the ball, and Morimura shouldn't allow him to do so. Even if that meant losing points with unforced double-faults.
Morimura trusted his first serve, but he knew his second serve was still too weak to be decisive in a game. Another thing he needed to work on.
As much as learning how to prevent Yukimura to move him like a puppet every time he didn't manage to shut him up with an ace. Damn kid.
He stopped at the baseline, ready to receive again. Remember. Be fast. Be fast. Be fast.
He took the first point with a smash on Yukimura's attempt of volley. 0-15.
Next serve, still two slow. Morimura's backhand was slow too. Yukimura answered on the opposite side of the court, almost forcing him to dive to reach the ball. Morimura kept his balance. Next answer was on the center. Easy. Morimura sent it on the opposite baseline. He managed to take control of the rally, at last, but Morimura wasn't intentioned to give up already. Yukimura came at the net to answer with a volley. Morimura took the chance and hit a lob, meant to land far behind his opponent, but Yukimura run after it and hit a return lob towards him.
Morimura smiled. That was praying for a smash. The ball was so slow he could have hit it with his eyes closed. Yukimura was still at the baseline, his back turned to the net, unable to react. Morimura jumped, hit the ball and smashed it in the empty opposite court.
15-All.
He heard the ball fall behind his back.
He turned to see. Fuck. It was really there. But he knew he had hit it. He felt the impact with the racket's sweet spot. He felt its force against the chords, its heavy top-spin when he sent it towards Yukimura's side of the court.
It was impossible he had missed it. And still...
Yukimura was serving again. That wasn't the right time to wonder about his imagination. Just don't let him force you in long rallies. Oh, yeah, so easy to tell. The key was a powerful answer to his serve. But will it be enough?
Yukimura served near the baseline. Morimura hit a pass, but Yukimura reached it like he had read his mind.
Forehand, backhand, forehand. Morimura hit has hard as he could, but the ball was hit back every damn time.
He ran right to hit a forehand, and sent it right to the opposite corner, too far for Yukimura to reach it.
The ball rolled at his feet.
30-15!
He heard the murmurs on the bleachers like they came from far, far away.
He missed it. Again. And again he could have bet both his hands he had hit it. Damn, he was also sure he had hit it in, even if it was so close to the line.
Morimura blinked, once, twice, thrice. He looked at his hand. This ball was in his racket's path. This ball has hit his racket chords.
He grasped his hand over the grip, took a deep breath. Yukimura was about to serve again.
Morimura bent his knees, grabbed his racket until his knuckles became pale white. He stared at his opponent. He would not miss a single move, from them on.
Morimura sat on the bench. His back was covered in sweat, his lips salty as he had drank sea water. He sank the head in the towel, his forehead was burning like he was sick with flu. He could feel his heart pounding under the temples.
He glanced up, just over the fabric. Yukimura was still at the center of the court, where he left him after the final handshaking. He didn't even feel his hand while grabbing it, as he had barely felt the consistence on the grip in his right hand.
It had been like when you sleep on your arm, and when you wake up you have to wait several minutes before the tingling stops and you could touch things again. Yukimura may have had a frozen hand more than a burning hand covered in sweat, he did not know. He could have had an hand covered in scale rather than fur, he couldn't have told it. Damn kid.
Yukimura finally moved, slowly, like he didn't have the eyes of the entire public concentrated on him. The silence which surrounded the court would soon be filled with murmurs. Morimura glanced around, his face still half-hidden under the towel. Some of the new freshmen looked as shocked. Sweat kept falling from his hair, a drop almost sting his left eye.
Hongo came and sat next to him, throwing him a water bottle.
«Okay, what did that kid do? Hypnosis? Magic? Petrificus Totalus?»
Morimura drank half of the bottle in one sip. It was warm, at least he could still perceive the temperature in his mouth. He looked again towards Yukimura, who had just passed over the bleachers and headed right toward the locker room. A couple of guys called him back but he didn't give a sign to have heard anything.
Morimura looked at him until he disappeared behind the bleachers. He recalled to have had the same reaction after his first loss in Regional Selection Finals, the previous year. Yeah, they won the tournament, but he had lost his match, and was so pissed off he wouldn't even look his teammates in the eyes. He realized only later how childish he had been, but, even looking in retrospect, he wouldn't have acted differently. All defeats burned, and some more than others, and there was nothing to be ashamed in a childish reaction. Defeat after defeat, you learn to accept them, but you need to practice first. Asou's words, obviously.
On his hand, Morimura would've liked to talk about it as an easy victory. A 6-1 would have make think of it as it at least. Bullshit. It had been a damn hard match. He drank the rest of the bottle, then threw it to Hongo.
«Send everyone back to the courts. Make them finish the training schedule for today».
Nothing else for him today. Nothing. All the idea of going to the gym became ridiculous. How could he, if he barely felt his own body? At least he could still stand on his feet. If he would have needed to be brought out of the court in a litter, that would've been a show no-one would have missed. Maybe it'd became more popular than his Doraemon underwear. Shit. He didn't need to feel worse.
«Captain?»
«I've paperwork that needs to get done». He roughly dried his hair with the towel. An headache started to push from behind his eyes, and his hand prickled. Damn kid.
«You sure everything's okay?»
I won't fall for it, Hongo. «It's okay». All the fish in the ocean would have drown before he would show any weakness to him. «Just do what I asked you to. I want your evaluations on the working groups on my desk as soon as possible».
«Roger». Hongo didn't seem enthusiast. Whatever. Not his problem. What really concerned him was reaching Captain's office before his right hand started to tremble again. Damn kid.
He managed to reach the office, almost stumbling once or twice in his way. Damn kid. Now that the match was ended and all the adrenaline drained away, he felt like half of the earth's gravity were gone. Did he forget how to walk properly? His racket could've been made of paper for the weight he actually felt. Except it was not. His view was as in a misty day. Damn. Kid.
He then found Matsui still where he left her, scribbling on the last papers.
«I'm almost done. Both meanings». She rubbed her eyes, yawned loudly.
Morimura nodded, reaching his chair. He sat and turned his back to her, pretending to watch something on the cork board on the wall. He closed the eyes, and forced his body to relax. Damn kid.
Matsui kept writing on a paper after the other, he could hear the scribble of the pen behind his back. He was surprised she had almost finished; having terrible handwriting did probably help you to understand other people's even worse handwriting. Morimura recalled that he spent two days doing the work last year, half of the time needed to translate what the hell was written on the forms. He glanced behind his shoulder. She didn't raise her gaze, not even to look at the clock. Brilliant. Morimura wasn't in the mood to do conversation or answer questions.
He was used to keep his focus high during a match. After that loss in Regionals the year before, while he was sobbing in the bathroom, ready to curse everyone who could have looked for him, he had swore no-one in the world would have beat him for breaking his concentration anymore. They could beat him because they were better players. They could beat him with tricks, even injuring him on purpose, he didn't care. But never, never by pulling him out of the match before the last point. And this became his greatest strength as a player, the one who assured him a secure place in regular string despite every other flaw he could have. Even when he started in a disadvantaged position, even when he was losing, he was never pulled out of the match. He could keep fighting to gain even only one point, but he wouldn't give up, not for a single second.
He looked at his hand. He kept opening and closing his fingers, they started to be sensitive again. At some time he needed to harden his grip until he felt his bones crack, to be sure to not let the racket slip away from his hand.
What the hell. He scratched the back of his right hand, carving red signs with the nails. He still felt nothing. He had needed until the last drop of his focus to stay within the match. Hit the ball. Send it over the net. Don't send him off the court. Hit hard. Hit harder. Don't let him hit back for Heaven's sake.
He grabbed the table's edge. His fingertips still pricked like hell.
Morimura never passed out in his life, as he could recall. But he guessed that before you lose consciousness the world started to fade, the noises became weaker, and the body would feel like an empty shell moved by someone else. And damn, he got close to that, too much close.
He tightened his eyes, bend his head against the seat-back. However he developed that, it was a really interesting technique. Dangerous, maybe, but interesting. Yet not enough to defeat him. It may have assured him the throne on Junior High tournaments, but High School was another matter.
He smiled. Maybe there were others like him, between the new recruits. Having first year a such high level could motivate the regulars and the elder players to keep practicing and take the club seriously. If they really care at all.
Morimura turned back, and opened his eyes right in time to see Matsui finishing the last form.
If his teammates didn't care, he would teach them to do so. This was the Captain's duty, after all.
«I've heard of your baptism by fire, yesterday».
Asou entered the club room, his hands plunged in pockets. He closed the door behind him, stopping the buzz of so many people outside on the courts.
«I've only had a match», Morimura sighed. He searched through the papers Matsui had left on his desk the day before. Geez, she had even organized them in alphabetical order, and pinned the related sheets together. Looks like he could keep her after all.
Asou took a chair and sat down in front of him.
«I come from the Committee meeting. Kizuki said you crushed the freshman to dust. Wanna hasten the selection convincing half of the club to drop off after only one day by scaring the shit out of them?»
«Please don't», Morimura sighed again. He put the papers aside, switching on the old club's Mac. «I only had a match. The guy asked, I've seen no reasons to refuse».
«You mean you wanted to show off».
Morimura tapped his fingers on the keyboard. That damn computer took ages to start working. «I thought watching a match could have been encouraging to the new recruits».
The former Captain would have laughed at the request and kicked the guy back to the changing room. He would have never even thought to answer the challenge. It was the way Captain Shibata used to act. High on the clouds, looking paternally to the mortals down on Earth.
He barely bothered to talk to the other regulars, never even pretended to notice the other members of the club. He didn't ask for respect, he didn't bothered to deserve it. He just put himself on a throne, and expected everyone to think of him as a king. And they did. Everyone did.
He glanced at Asou. It had been Shibata-senpai that had wanted both of them in the team. He didn't ask, didn't test them, he did nothing. Just came out of the blue and told them they would have been regulars from then on, with no further explanation.
He made Morimura vice-captain at the end of the school tournaments season, after half of the third years was already retired. Morimura had supposed he was his way for teaching him, to introduce him to the role of Captain that would have passed to the younger boy after his retirement. And Morimura wanted to learn. He didn't like Shibata-buchou at all - sometimes, really, he felt like he hated him - but he respected his authority, and admired the confidence he had in taking decisions. He always wondered whether Shibata's self-esteem was real or just an act. "I can look like that too", Morimura sighed. "But I can't be like that".
And his new teammates would be better not expecting him to be so. He glanced at Asou. He was looking after the registration forms on the desk. «I think you'll need some extra calligraphy classes». He arched is bow.
«That's not me». His calligraphy grades were quite good though. Perfectionist freak, his desk mate once called him. «It's the new manager-in-try».
«Do we have a manager?» Asou smiled. «I've thought you were the less likely person to hire a manager, since...»
«Got it, thank you». Would people ever stop mentioning the Doraemon accident in a lifetime? «She offered to do the paperwork. I thought I could at least give her a try».
Usually it was a member of the team in the manager's position, but thinking over it, the day before, Morimura couldn't imagine anyone of his teammates suited for that role, except him and Asou. But he couldn't tell the guy to do all the work, and he couldn't handle everything by himself too. Who else could he ask to? Hongo? Like, never. Kuroba, Minami? Neither. Mouri? You must be kidding me. He couldn't rely in anyone of his current teammates not even to attend practice, less enough to a responsibility role. Something else that should be fixed.
«Shouldn't Hongo be helping you yesterday? Have you already sorted them in groups?»
Something like that. «I've an idea», he admitted. «Hongo is still out there, today. Sent the girl with him. She said she already worked with practice schedules before. At least I did ask her to keep Hongo focused on the courts, and to throw his damn phone down of the bleachers if she has to».
«Someone should definitely do that», Asou agreed. «We need to arrange practice schedules before the beginning of next week. We'll also have definitive members of the club for that date».
«Likely. I hope so. Perhaps». Like he would ever get something done in his Captain career. Maybe he could just drop off, leave everything to Asou and switch to the knitting club. He rubbed his temples, the phantom of a headache pushing from behind his eyes.
«Well, at least it's done. Maybe I can have a look on the courts?», Asou suggested.
Morimura nodded. «Yeah. Like, thanks. I'll come over in five minutes. I asked the other regulars to come to the courts today, too. Please check if they're there».
«And if they're not?» Asou's voice said that he considered their presence not less than a miracle. Morimura couldn't but agree.
«I'll release the Leviathan against them. I've a strand of each one's hair to train his sniff».
«Make sure it's hungry enough», Asou replied, before heading out the door.
Morimura shrugged. This would be another long, long day.
Fifteen minutes later, Morimura found Asou talking with Matsui at the top of the bleachers. Hongo wasn't in sight, probably hidden somewhere with his phone. More probable to find him on Twitter.
He sighed. Most of the new recruits were running around the courts, along with some older club members. He glanced around: none of the other regulars was in sight. He couldn't say he was surprised. He needed to talk with Asou about this. Neither of them had a glimpse of Shibata's authority, but if they worked together, they could at least achieve some respect.
Asou stooped towards Matsui, being like twice taller than her - and Morimura too. He rather see the guy sat down on a chair, definitely -, and the girl was pointing to someone in the court, describing circles in the air with her finger. Asou was listening, nodding from time to time. Morimura approached as she slapped Asou in the nose after a wide gesture. «Oh, crap. I'm sorry, senpai».
Asou smiled, rubbing his nose through his fingers. «Don't worry. It's still in his place».
«Well, as I was saying», she reprised waving with her hands, and Asou wisely took a step back, «if you only make them run, you know, you're auditioning for the marathon club, right?»
«That's not the case», Asou answered with his usual calm, patient voice. «Laps are only the first step. You will agree, if someone couldn't afford not even running laps, it's little likely they could handle what comes after».
«You think so», she glanced at Morimura, and smiled. «But maybe there's someone whose stamina is awful, but has a damn good service, or is a volley master, or whatever. You just don't know. And maybe you'll never will if you just make him running laps and do thousand swings until next year».
«But for the next year they'll improve their stamina».
«Or they'll drop off the club because they came here to play and not to run around the courts for a year».
«Being a club member isn't compulsory», Morimura interjected, coming next to Asou. «No-one is forced to stay here, if they don't agree with club policy». He glared at her with severity. Having the girl doing the paperwork in his place was okay, but if she started questioning club's rules on her first day she could instantly become unnecessary.
«If your policy makes some potential members leave the club it's our loss more than theirs», she argued.
«I get your point, Matsui-san. But a minimum level of stamina is the only thing we ask. Without it we could hardly last half of a match, and Rikkai doesn't need a player that collapses on the court after few games», Asou answered. «A good player needs a basic balance to start work on».
Tips for himself: let Asou talk in his place more often. He said the same things Morimura would have said, but without all the swear he would have put in it.
Matsui scratched her hear.
«Got it. Guess you'll know this better. I just thought that if you let everyone have a try on court, you might be surprised». She glanced at Morimura. «Frankly, I didn't understand Hongo-senpai's criteria for groups' division. I've pointed them down», she pulled out a paper from her pocket, «but actually, I didn't…»
«Stop there», Morimura glanced up. He cursed the moment he trusted Hongo for that. He probably gave the girl a totally random order just to drop off and leave all the work to her.
«So you thought that if I see them play in a practice match today, maybe I can have a clearer idea of what their level is». Morimura added.
«Basically. I've already started working on the schedules, by the way». Well. That was good. «But I mean matches between them. Just let them sort themselves in different groups according to the level they think they can afford. Self-perception is also important. This will save us a preliminary work. Then, you'll just have to watch them play and make your own idea, maybe switching places to test them better».
Morimura scratched his chin. The idea wasn't that bad though. He doubted of everyone's capacity to evaluate themselves with precision, but it would be a starting point indeed.
He glanced at Asou, who nodded. «I think it'd be only between the ones who are still able to stand up».
Some of the newbies were on the bleachers, panting hard or lain on the ground, the chest going up and down for deep breaths. It was very unlikely they could afford whatsoever match if they didn't work hard on their stamina first.
Matsui followed his gaze and smiled. «I also though we shouldn't sort groups at all, but single schedules».
«What are you talking about?»
«Hongo-senpai told me you used to make rigid groups based on the general level, but I think this could be inaccurate on the long period», she explained.
Morimura arched his eyebrows, while Asou hid an amused smile under the hand. For God's sake. Did she want to decide everything by herself now? «It worked for years, Matsui-san. And it isn't rigid at all. You can easily switch to an higher group if you work hard», Asou told her.
«I'm not talking about that and I'm not discussing the efficiency of your method», she insisted. «I'm just proposing an advice to improve them. Like, instead of consider their general level, you'll look closely to their detailed level in every statistic and make a more precise training schedule to help them improve their personal weaknesses. Like, player A and B could both have awful stamina, but what if A has a great technique and B as very good power but little precision? They couldn't work with the same schedule»
Yeah. And then they could build rainbow stairways and get some unicorns to travel to Candyland.
«I get your point», Asou replied, «but you'll understand that what you're asking » is science-fiction «requires a lot of time and energy to be sorted well. Consider also the fact that not everyone in this club has signed up for competitions, so it would be a wasted time in the end».
Morimura couldn't have said it better. Why wasting time to fix the weaknesses of someone who has only interest to play tennis to fill his afternoons? With tournaments season approaching, they really need to focus only on the potential regulars for the official matches.
«I'm not asking your time, I can handle this by myself». Matsui didn't give up. «I mean, why not. What if someone really signed up for fun, as you said, but hey, with a personal working schedule he improves so much that decides to compete in the tournaments and becomes the key player to win the National Finals?»
Morimura cursed between his teeth. «Yeah, guess you're right. And what if this incredible player signed in baseball club by mistake? We should check between all their members to be sure. And why not between the members of every other club in school?» Included the knitting club, which he was planning to join as soon as possible.
«The Captain is right, Matsui-san», Asou added, gently. «If we follow your way, we will get everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Maybe there are lots of potential good players who hadn't signed up for the club, for whatever reason. How could we know?» Asou opened his arms. «We can't. Bu we don't have to. We just have to work with what we know. And let people make their own decisions».
Yeah, he should let Asou talk in his place like always. He should hire him to do speeches out of the club too. Also dealing with his parents, why not.
Matsui didn't seem convinced. Her gaze wandered towards the new recruits. Only few of them were still running. Morimura looked closer, trying to memorize who they were. That Yukimura guy was among them; he wasn't surprised.
«Guess you're right», she eventually sighed. «But I don't want to go around the school within a tennis ball costume trying to recruit new members. Well, if you really could provide me a tennis ball costume, or maybe I can ask to a girl to my class from sewing club and…», Morimura glared at her. «Oh, nevermind. I was saying, I only want to make the best work I could with the ones who chose to play tennis. I mean, I'm here, am I not? Just let me be useful».
Morimura glanced at Asou, who shrugged. Some people were approaching, nodding to Morimura as they passed. No-one of them were a regular. Where the hell were them?
«Let me have a try. Just for today, let the new recruits sort themselves out and play against each other. Like, tie-break style matches, round robin, something quick, so all of them will be able to play today. And just observe them. If this will turn out to be totally useless, well, the worst thing that could happen is wasting a single afternoon. But I don't think it will be the case».
Morimura scratched his cheek. He looked at the courts. The warming up was almost finished.
«I think we could try», said Asou, his arms crossed at his chest. «Beside everything, it could be an encouragement to everyone who's still not sure wether to join or not. Let them play, I mean. Lots of people quit after few weeks complaining about the lack of practice matches».
«And there's a reason for that», Morimura pointed out. What was the point in doing practice matches for those who barely know how to hold a racket?
«I know», Asou nodded, switched the weight on the other foot. «But they could experience it on firsthand. And they'll start to know what their weaknesses are, to then try and fix them».
«I really doubt of that», Morimura cracked his fingers. «More likely, it will be a total mess and we won't understand anything at all».
He looked at Matsui, who was smiling at him, and then at Asou, who was smiling too. Was there already a conspiracy against him? He had been Captain only for few weeks, for God's sake! «Whatever. If you think it'll work, then go on. Our only alternative at the moment seems to be the data gathered by Hongo», his mouth curled in a grin, «aka ».
«Rtf. We don't have MS Word in that computer from the early twenties. Matsui-san, if you'll ever work with that, I highly suggest you convert everything in Pdf before printing, unless you want…»
«Can we skip computer lessons and get to the courts?», Morimura narrowed his eyes. «The warming up is over».
«I'll get my list. Asou-senpai, would you mind to gather the recruits? I'll join you in a minute».
«That's okay. Morimura-kun, may we go?»
Morimura nodded. He still wasn't convinced about this experiment at all. But it would be still better than doing nothing. And "nothing" would be exactly what he'd obtain if he'd wait his other teammates to come and help him. Whatever. If the club'd need a revolution to start working properly, three was a good number to start it.
...
Hello there, and thanks for reading. I'm sorry for the OC-centered chapter. The first draft of the MoriYuki match was narrated from Sanada's POV, but I was highly unsatisfied with the outcome. I felt like having an external impression of Yukimura and his tennis would have been more interesting, even if that meant taking the risk and putting a fully OC-narrated chapter so early. Sanada's grumpy POV will come back again next chapter, so stay tuned.
I want to thank Kiyoshi MizukiAtobe for the kind comment and the follow. As always, every feedback is accepted, over both grammar and characters/plot.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, see you next week!
Fanny
Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.
This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for? [Fun - Some Nights]
