4
He allowed his hand to let go of the pencil. It fell on the table softly. His hand found his way to his hair. He ruffled through it slowly, listening.
Their sensei kept talking, professing in a language that wasn't her's. The motions of her lips were too obvious to feel natural. Her pronounciation sounded too unnatural to be right. Her japanenglish teaching was hurting their ears. And even worse, Time didn't seem to be running.
He took a quick look at his wristwatch.
There was ten minutes left before the end of the class. Only ten minutes before he went to practise.
He shouldn't be in a hurry. The court was the last place he wanted to be. Because he felt he didn't belong there. He was nothing like a Tennis player.
The scream of the bell rang up in his ears, yelling at him to go to practise, before it slowly faded away. Only its murmur remained in his head, like a tiny voice, repeating again and again, like a mantra what used to be his motto: "Practise makes stronger".
He adjusted his glasses.
The room was already half-empty. Surely many of his classmates were down the stairs, already running to wherever they wanted or had to go. He also should have been already down stairs, heading to the Tennis club locker room. He didn't want to go there. He wanted to go home and forget about that tiny reproachful voice in his head. He wanted to forget about practise, about Tezuka, about Tennis. He wanted to forget about all his data, to drown his head in to some bucket full of his infamous juice and never recall he used to be a part of Seigaku's team.
No. Now he should really be going. He had always been the first to step in the locker room. He couldn't let anyone step in the locker room before him. He wouldn't give anyone a reason to think there was something wrong with him. Because it only concerned him, and no one else.
He increased his pace.
His sportbag felt heavier than usual on his shoulder. His eyes had trouble focusing behind his glasses, and even his hands weighed so much they were about detaching themselves from his body. He had to struggle to keep his legs from messing with eachother.
He only hoped he wouldn't mess up anything during practise. He wasn't someone who would make himself noticeable to anyone. But if he were to act different than usual, he was bound to be harassed by a worried Oishi, a curious Eiji or a sly Fuji.
And he knew how incredibly annoying the three of them could be.
-
He adjusted his sportbag's weight on his shoulder.
The building's entrance was only few meters ahead now. The surroundings were silent, the students having already deserted the area. The noise of the near-by street could not even be heard, neither could the sound of the usual wednesday's sweeping.
He increased his pace, not wanting to let doubts grasp him before he reached the door. He raised his hand to turn the knob, but it withdrew away from his reach.
He watched, his left brow up on his forehead, as Mizuki revealed himself to him.
"Oh, Hello Inui."
"Hello..." He said, stepping away from the player's way.
"If I scared you, I'm very sorry about it." St Rudolph's manager said, coyly.
"It's okay."
"Well then, see you around."
"Around?" He unvoluntarily tilted his head.
St Rudolph's High School wasn't particularly "around" Seigaku High. Beside that, the guy was giving him one of his mysterious expressions he was so famous for.
"Yes." Mizuki smiled.
'Gross' was the word that came to illustrate the situation his mind. He didn't know why, but the guy's smile looked a way too teasing. And he wasn't the type to let anyone play with him.
He kept the expectant look on his face, instead of showing the growing annoyance in him.
"It's too bad things came up this way..." the other boy started, twisting a strand of his hair with his finger. "I would have enjoyed facing you, as a player..."
"As a player?" he frowned even more.
Mizuki's smile appeared again, this time even more intriguing.
"That's very unlike you to forget about such things, Inui-kun."
He was taken aback. Yet he didn't show a bit of it.
"...But well, I suppose I don't know that much about you at all."
His features didn't move.
"It depends on what you want to know." he replied.
Mizuki smirked.
"Let's say I am quite a revengeful guy. Last time, during the prefectural Tournament, I lost against you. Or rather, the team I was managing lost against yours. I'm only looking for a rematch...a real match this time."
So Mizuki wanted to test his strenght. He wanted to know what kind of player he was.
He looked at the other boy.
He was still smiling, but his face was a little shadowed.
Maybe their being both player and manager had developped a sort of natural rivalry between them. Mizuki was the kind of guy that absolutely hated to lose, which made the situation clearly understandable. Still, such an it be that he feared him?
He could have laughed.
That was a stupid thing to think. He didn't have that mysterious aura people like Tezuka or Fuji had and that made them intimidating. He was barely noticeable within the team. He even wondered how could Mizuki bother himself with someone like him. He had nothing of the great Tennis player, neither the charisma, nor the skills.
"I see." he finally said.
"I'll make sure we play one day...in an official match." Mizuki announced, a defiant smile on his lips.
Inui watched his slim figure walk away.
He wasn't thrilled. He wasn't afraid.
He simply didn't care.
"Inui." the firm voice of his captain came to his ears.
He turned to him.
"Hello Tezuka."
"What are you doing here?"
Ah yes. He was supposed to be practising with the others on the courts.
He leveled his gaze to the other boy's. The latter was waiting for his answer, a severe glint in his eyes.
Surely he would make him run laps, no matter the reason of his skipping practise...so it didn't make any difference. Anyway, he never intended to tell him he had come to tell Ryuzaki-sensei his decision to leave the team.
"I have just met Mizuki from St Rudolph..." he said flatly.
Tezuka only looked at him in a way that seemed tinted with anger. It was clear that he knew Inui was trying to drive him away from the subject.
"...He said some things I didn't catch and that I think you can help me understand better." he finished.
"Are you skipping practise?" Tezuka asked, imperious.
"Not quite. I was only gathering some information around." he paused. "How many teams do you and Ryuzaki-sensei plan on gathering to play against us?"
"..."
"I see." He said, half-heartedly.
He didn't care that much about it in fact. Whether they played Fudoumine or St Rudolph or even Hyotei, he didn't feel concerned at all. Tennis didn't matter to him anymore.
-
He slowly walked towards his sportbag, his face unreadable, his steps assured.
His match against Fuji had just ended. Almost a draw. 7-5.
Usually, he would have been eager to write this down in his notebook. He would have smiled inwardly, happy about the new data on the prodigy. Usually he would have given all he had to steal a victory from the brown-haired boy. Usually he would have felt disappointment at his close win. And Usually he would have boosted his spirits up with a brand new training menu.
He sighed.
His limbs were heavy. His throat was a little dry.
He sat down on the bench to rest his body.
It wasn't until five minutes later that he noticed the area has been completely deserted. The other players had all gathered near court D, their bodies stilled by the distance.
He stood up and walked to them.
Sounds of bouncing balls gradually reached him, as well as the murmurs of the growing audience. The players' figures shaped into a very focused Momoshiro and an exasperated Kaidoh. Between them, close to the net, Kikumaru's high-pitched voice kept announcing the points in the typical referee way.
This felt like a really heated match.
He took a halt in his walking, stopping a meter away from the scene. He couldn't have gone closer anyway, because most of the Freshmen and Juniors were blocking his way. All of them watching, amazed.
So he turned his eyes to the two players.
Hands gripping his racket, it was Momoshiro's turn to serve. He threw the ball very high in the air and jumped to hit it with full force. The speeding ball bounced on the ground, heading towards Kaidoh's face. He hit it with what seemed to be all the power he had, Momoshiro had to take a step back to strike. The ball flew higher above the net, surprising his opponent by its speed.
"30 all!" Eiji announced.
He didn't know when the match had started. He didn't even know what the score was at the moment. But he had the feeling it had been going this very tight way from the beginning.
They were both all sweating, their jerseys soaked, their forehead weeping, surely eager to be released from the stress of the match and yet struggling to win.
"30-40!"
Kaidoh's point, right after Momoshiro's one.
"40 all!"
Yet another point for Momoshiro.
He could have smirked.
There seemed to be a fierce battle going on between the two sophomores, which wasn't surprising at all. They were both known as rivals in the team and even in the whole school.
"Game Kaidoh. 5 games all!"
But there seemed to be more than that.
As he watched them play, he couldn't help but notice that their Tennis way were pretty similar.
Deeply, Momoshiro was a die-hard Tennis player: he would always make sure both to enjoy the game and to catch a victory. No matter the situation or the difficulties, he never let anything stand in front of his way. He would always try to find a way to overcome any obstacle...which he did, most of the time. As for Kaidoh, he never allowed anything to disturb his concentration nor break his determination. Once set on a match, he would make sure to win, no matter how strong his opponent was. The guy was all about winning, and this clearly made him the most passionate player in the Team.
He adjusted his glasses.
Sure, their Tennis style were pretty similar. But their skills were not.
It was pretty evident that Momoshiro had quite a potential in him. But Kaidoh...
He looked down at his hands.
Tennis wasn't all about passion. The outcome of the match was already decided.
-
"Are you feeling better?" a voice asked softly behind him.
Fuji wasn't smiling. His face looked serious.
"Why do you ask?"
"You always do that..." Fuji said.
"Do what?"
"You ask a question instead of answering. Most of the time it's because you have something to hide." the prodigy stated.
He frowned behind his glasses.
Had he let any of his bitter thoughts slip out of his body during their match?
"I'm fine. And I have nothing to hide, Fuji." He finally answered.
The other boy considered his blank face for some seconds before breaking into his trademark wide smile and turning to the match.
Fuji's attention wasn't on him anymore. He was glad about it. Still, the number two of seigaku remained next to him, preventing him from going anywhere, unless he had a good reason to give him. Everyone seemed to be so much into the ongoing match that it would definitely be strange if he were to leave the place before it ended.
He had lost the trail of game during his little chat with Fuji. He only knew it was Kaidoh's turn to serve, but judging by the junior's clenched jaw, he could tell he had lost the first points. And he looked about losing the upcoming ones.
Momoshiro's ball seemed to have gain a little more power in this round and even Kaidoh's reptile-like reflexes couldn't take on it. He was struggling to control his shots and with the current speed of the ball, both Snake and Boomerang Snake were out of question.
Once again, Momoshiro had found the weak point.
"15-40!"
There it was. Match point for Momoshiro.
Kaidoh's racket hit the ball without much conviction. It almost toppled over before reaching the opposite side of the court, but the other player easily cheered it up with a bit of speed. Kaidoh sent it back with all the power he had, making the ball swirl in a whizzing sound towards his opponent.
No doubt Momoshiro would jump on the occasion. No doubt he would conclude with his Jack Knife.
Inui shifted his foot to turn away from the game. He paused, baffled.
He almost removed his glasses, for he simply couldn't believe his eyes.
"...err...30-40!"
The position of his knees, the angle of his swing, the movement of the ball, swift and precise...
He stared, his eyes blank, his hands shaking.
Kaidoh's move was the perfect concretization of the drawing in his book.
