Title: Spiral
Chapter: Chapter 2 - Circles
Author: Datenshi Blue
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Ryoma, Momo, Fuji, Tezuka, Atobe, Ryoga, Yuuta and many others probably.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but I have fun torturing them.
Notes: I'm trying to avoid using Japanese words in this fic. I don't like Japanese words in English fics, at that, unless they are justified, but I admit I sometimes write them without even noticing. I don't think things like Samurai or Shinigami in the last chapter count. Samurai for obvious reasons; after all it's how they call Echizen's dad even in the US. As for Shinigami, it was Fuji's thinking, and I needed only one word that acted as a nickname and could hold in its meaning the way Echizen plays tennis now. As someone wrote in a review, it probably wouldn't make it to the US media, since only the anime fans minority would get the meaning of the word, and that person is right. Then again, it's Fuji's thoughts and he has no reason to think in English. He was just looking for a word that fitted Ryoma better than that old Samurai Jr. thing.

I have used kouhai - the opposite of senpai - in this chapter. I've been changing it to other words, but in the end, I always return to kouhai. Even if underclassman could work, I don't really like that it doesn't seem to hold the protective feeling that I associate kouhai with. Maybe it's because of the way Momo usually talks about his kouhai and his friendly ways with them. Anyway, it's the senpai's duty to take care of their kouhai, and I don't think the words upperclassman or underclassman work that way. I'm sorry if that bothers anyone.

SPIRAL
By Datenshi Blue

Chapter 2 - Circles

Momoshiro Takeshi hasn't stopped thinking about Echizen for a single day.

It has been six long years, but somehow Echizen has been there, in the back of his mind, all of that time. However, for a long time, his presence has been almost too faded to be anything more than just a warm and delicate longing at night, when Momo would close his eyes and think of what could have been if something as dull as a tennis tournament hadn't broken his heart.

Keeping in touch was easy at first. Right after the Nationals, Momo fell on a comfortable routine that included writing a long e-mail every other day. He would talk about his everyday life. The fall term had just started and it was easy to fill those wanna-be letters with small stories about his own family and school or stuff about the tennis club, such as special training menus, Tezuka's punishment after a prank Eiji-senpai and Momo himself had played on the first years or Inui's new creation that couldn't possibly be good for their health, if the way it burnt in their stomachs for days after the punishment was anything to go by.

Momo never talked about the only kiss he had ever stolen from Echizen, or the clumsy and innocent caresses that had followed. Or the feelings behind it all, for that matter.

It happened on a rainy day during the Senbatsu camp that year. Outdoors training had been suspended because of the heavy rain, and the gym was packed with kids building up. That is why Echizen and Momoshiro had chosen to stay outside and go on playing until an angry Tezuka had sent them indoors. Soaked and laughing despite the scolding, they had made their way to their shared room, and had used the bathroom in turns. When Momo came out of the small restroom drying his hair with a towel, his heart had positively melted at the sight of his kouhai curled against himself, deeply asleep on Momo's bed.

Momo had tried to wake him up as softly as possible. He still can remember the silky feeling of Echizen's hair against his hand as he ran his fingers through it tenderly, calling his name in a whisper once and again until Echizen finally fixed confused and vulnerable golden eyes on Momo's. A warm blush had spread through his face as he realized that he had fallen asleep on his friend's bed. That had probably been too much for Momo. Used to act first and think afterwards, Momoshiro had leaned forward, covering Echizen's lips with his. It wasn't until Echizen's lips actually started responding to the kiss that he realized what they were doing and by that time, nothing mattered anymore.

It was but one long and sloppy kiss seasoned with daring hands risking some graceless caresses over each other's clothes, and it did not last, for they were interrupted by some knocks on the door and a voice calling for dinner.

Sometimes, Momo thinks that he dreamt it all. Neither he nor Echizen addressed the topic after dinner, and they simply acted like they always did. There had been no tension, no awkwardness. It was almost as if nothing had happened, or as if it had been bound to be. They hadn't talked about it, not even when Echizen stated that he was leaving to play the US Open, and that is why Momo never mentioned it in his mails.

Neither did Echizen.

And yet, there was that special tenderness they both poured over the words they wrote for each other. Even now, Momo's eyes get wet when he dares to read those old electronic letters (yes, he keeps them all). But they were kids and kids soon get distracted by new hobbies, new people or new schools. On top of that, there is always room for regret, just as Momo found out when the next spring he let Echizen know that he had been selected the new captain of the Tennis Club. Momoshiro was sure that Echizen was as happy for him as he said he was in his e-mail, even if it took him five whole days to reply. That was when Momo realized that Echizen had never really had a choice, and that he hadn't been lying when he said that he'd rather play the Nationals than a Grand Slam. That also was when Momo became an expert at reading between Echizen's lines. And what he found there was bitterness and longing.

In time, he also found dejection, loneliness and something dangerously close to detachment. Slowly, the mails became rarer: once a week, once a month, once every other month... and suddenly, even though Momo remembered to occasionally sit down and try to mail Echizen, the words wouldn't come. The latest news he had had from his friend were that his older brother Ryoga had come back home and that they were training like crazy, each one with his own coach. Momo was appalled. Until that very moment he hadn't realized that you would never run out of things to say when you were by a friend's side. Even if you saw each other every day, there was always something to talk about. But that did not hold true when your friend was away from you. He hadn't "talked" with Echizen for months and a lot of things had been happening in their lives, but he was at a loss for words. He couldn't think of anything to talk about. Every word he wrote down sounded empty and deceitfully carefree and he would simply delete it.

Something died inside of Momo's heart the day he got rid of a mail he hadn't even started writing and simply stared blankly at the computer's screen, thinking that it would be nice to be able to grab all the years that had gone by since Echizen left - short of three - and throw them into a garbage can, getting a new chance to start things over. He would start by pinning Echizen to the bed and missing dinner on that rainy day during the Senbatsu camp, and by selfishly requesting him to go to the National Tournament with the rest of the team, even if that meant throwing away a unique opportunity.

A couple of days before his seventeenth birthday and not without a big dose of helpless despair, Momo found out that time and distance are two of the biggest enemies of love. But it was too late to do anything to save a friendship - had it ever been something else? - that had grown weak.

Momoshiro's birthday present for himself that year was a strong and heavy blow of reality delivered at his doorstep in the shape of his friend's gift. Echizen sent a carefully handmade card and a roll of Momo's favorite grip tape. It was late July and he hadn't had any news from Echizen - nor had Momoshiro mailed him - since Christmas. That was probably the reason why Echizen did not know that he had been forced to drop tennis for the rest of his High School time due to a severe injury in his left ankle that would need a long time to heal properly, if ever.

In spite of that, Momo never gave up tennis. He didn't give up their friendship either, especially when some months later, right after the Christmas break, Momo received a short mail from Echizen that had worried him deeply. His friend said that his parents were separating and divorce would probably follow. There were not many details. Ryoma was going to be sent to some famous boarding school that hosted the city's best tennis club and he would be working on improving his tennis under the wing of a new coach.

That was about it. Echizen did not tell him the reasons for the sudden separation, or what would happen to his brother. Momo didn't even know what the shy kid thought about the whole thing. And Echizen never answered any of the thousand mails he sent during the next weeks. In fact, Echizen never contacted him again.

From Momo's point of view, two years are not a time long enough to turn someone that has been as important in his life as Echizen has always been into a ghost. Momo thinks that that kind of ghosts are the faded memories of people who have had a main role in one's life, and who have disappeared so completely from it that they make one feel betrayed and slightly cold at the same time, or that turn one's favorite shrimp cutlet burger tasteless when one remembers them unexpectedly. Echizen only makes him feel warm and lonely. That is the reason why Echizen can't be a ghost. He is still Momoshiro's best friend, and something as insignificant as not having seen each other for six years, or not having talked to each other at all for more than two years does not change that.

But seeing Echizen in the news collecting Grand Slam trophies as easily as if he was still playing junior high kids instead of the world's best professional tennis players is really breaking the shell that Momoshiro has carefully built around their supposed relationship. He does not know that Echizen. The handsome young man looking at him from the TV screen has cold eyes and a raw playstyle that Momo definitely doesn't like or understand. And yet, it makes his heart beat faster, and there are butterflies in his stomach each time Echizen's lips curl in that familiar cocky smile.

One could say that Momoshiro is a gentle, happy young man, with an easy-going character and a smart - and loud - sense of humour that makes it fun to be around him. He's got expressive eyes of an uncommon color, a beautifully built body, and a handsome smile. In short, wherever he goes, Momoshiro Takeshi is a popular guy, both between the boys and the girls, which is why he has had his fair share of girlfriends, and also of boyfriends. He is the kind of person that falls in love with a character and not with a body, that's why he does not care about the gender of his special ones. However, there has always been a flame, one that wears Echizen's name, burning deep inside of him. It has always made him feel kind of guilty, as if he was still holding a candle for his old friend and thus was not being loyal to his partners.

Perhaps, that is the reason why Momoshiro has gone and bought a ticket for the final match of the tournament Echizen is playing. It is still some days away, but Momo has no doubt that Echizen will be one of the players fighting for the trophy, if not the one who will take it with him. He knows trying to approach Echizen at the end of that game will be difficult, at the very least. But he will try. It is not like he is a complete stranger after all.

For a long time, Echizen's presence has been almost too faded to be anything more than just a warm and delicate longing at night, but ever since he shook the tennis world at the end of last summer, Momoshiro can't stop thinking about him and - why deny it - how it would feel to wrap his arms around that firm body and finish what they started so clumsily so many years ago.

Momoshiro feels that the circle must be completed. He thinks it is a matter of fate or at least of something bigger than they - and the worlds they live in - are. Despite his interest in complex fractals - Momo's best subject has always been Mathematics after all - in his straightforward, clean mind, regarding Echizen, everything is as simple and transparent as those clear summer days they spent together six years ago.

Regarding Echizen, there is no room for neverending and obscure spirals.

Ryoma wakes up later than usual with a strong headache. His head is not the only part of his body that hurts, as he notices a couple of seconds later. In fact, he feels as if he had been thrown into a bag and then kicked and beaten to a pulp. He can't really remember when the jobless wanna-be architect left the room. He probably passed out before that happened, that's just how exhausted he had been.

The tennis player rolls to his back and yawns. Despite the pain and the fact that his coach is going to yell at him for being more than two hours late for his training, he is relaxed and feels almost at ease after a comfortable dreamless sleep. With a groan, Ryoma gets up and crawls to the bathroom where he takes a long hot bath. It is not until one hour later that he leaves his room with his tennis bag hanging from his shoulder and feeling almost like a person again. His headache has been reduced to a dull throb, and the kind of pain that he is feeling on the rest of his body is something he is already used to and can easily deal with.

Ryoma finds his coach in the hotel's lobby, sitting on a soft sofa with a folded newspaper in front of him. The man raises an eyebrow when he sees Ryoma approaching and sighs, getting to his feet.

"Mornin'," Ryoma says, without the tiniest hint of guilt in either his face or his voice.

"You're stiff," the older man says as a matter of fact. "I hope you were able to sleep at least." The tone of the coach's voice is softer than expected. He has known Ryoma for several years already, and he knows about the nightmares although not what their cause is. He also knows about Ryoma's habit, and, even though he does not approve of it, he realized a long time ago that trying to talk the young man out of it is useless.

Ryoma's coach is a stern but quiet man in his mid forties. An awful car accident that took place more than twenty years ago truncated his bright professional tennis career rather abruptly and prompted his becoming a tennis coach for future talents. Long and painful months of physical rehabilitation shaped his character, hardening it and coating it with a thick layer of patience that has become his trademark. After all, having to give up his dream of becoming the number one tennis player in the world wasn't all that traumatic considering that he still can walk on his own legs after his doctors made it clear that he could have very well ended up tied to a wheelchair.

That is probably the reason why he is so tolerant of Ryoma's oddities. That too, is probably the reason why Echizen Nanjiroh asked him to become Ryoma's coach more than two years ago, when the kid started having some awful nightmares that would wake him up in the middle of the night, turning him into an even more lonely and reserved kid than he already was, if not downright unsociable. Neither Ryoma nor Nanjiroh have ever given him the smallest explanation regarding the nightmares or Ryoma's problem. And that's probably for the better. He is just Ryoma's mentor, he does not want to become a parental figure for him. It may seem cold, but that is the only way his feelings won't interfere with Ryoma's tennis career. Parents are too protective of their kids and the tennis world isn't a pleasant bed of roses.

"You should be careful. It takes just one little scandal to bring you down and wipe you from the tennis scenario," he adds after a moment of hesitation.

Ryoma shifts his weight from one foot to the other a little uncomfortably. That is the only answer the coach is going to get from the teen and both of them are aware of it.

"You are a personality now. Don't forget that." The older man sighs again. Sometimes it feels like he is trying to talk sense into a thick brick wall, but surely Ryoma understands that there are many people out there that would seize the chance to get some easy money by selling to the media something as sordid as a fuck.

"I know that," Ryoma says, grabbing the peak of his cap with two fingers and adjusting it while he looks away. A likely scandal isn't the only problem that can stem from his current situation. No matter how tightly he can sleep after a sex session like last night's, he isn't proud of it. Even if he already got over the annoying feeling of guilt he used to dwell on when he first started using sex to numb his body and mind, it still makes him feel dirty and manipulative. But there are worse things. For instance, there is the curse of reliving that day once and again in his dreams. Or the guilt that comes with the knowledge of him being the living reason that broke his family apart.

"If you understand it then it's fine," his coach says, with another sigh. "You have the morning off. You're too stiff to start training now, anyway. Try to relax and we'll work harder after lunch."

Ryoma nods and starts walking towards the door without a word. He has got too much time in his hands now, and not many places to visit left. Yesterday, he indeed went to the old McDonalds to have lunch, and before he realized it his steps had taken him to his old house where some anonymous monk - probably the one his father borrowed the house from six years ago - is taking care of the temple behind it. He visited the Tokyo Arena, the place where he and his friends used to play tennis, still filled with teenagers playing the first matches of the prefectural tournament. He didn't dare to visit his school, though. There are too many memories lying around within that building. Ryoma shakes his head. The school is out of bounds. He is still not ready to visit Seigaku.

"Yo, Echizen."

The words startle him, and Ryoma turns around slowly to look at the person who just talked. There is a young man standing next to the hotel's door, his hands hidden within the front pocket of a dark hooded sweater that looks way too big for him. That, and the fact that he is wearing grey sweat pants instead of the blueish Seigaku tennis garments, are the only things that make this person any different from the image that Ryoma keeps of him in his mind. Everything else - the hair a little bit too long, the eyes almost closed because of the huge grin curving his lips upwards and the air of relaxed confidence around him - are exactly the same of six years ago. He is taller than he used to be, but he is still a small man, almost certainly thin and pretty enough to be mistaken for a boyish girl. Even Ryoma, who is still a short kid, is probably bigger than him now.

"Fuji-senpai." Fuji widens his smile when he hears that old - and now meaningless - courtesy title but says nothing about it.

"It's been a while. How have you been?"

The youth takes a couple of steps towards him, and Ryoma unconsciously takes one back. He hasn't backed away because he is scared of the things those startling blue eyes can see in his face if Fuji decides to actually look at him, Echizen says to himself, it is just that he is surprised. He didn't expect this kind of meeting.

At least not so soon.

He immediately regains his composure, his fingers automatically flying to his baseball cap, grabbing its peak a little too tightly, and moves forward.

"Saa..." It's a noncommital sound that makes Fuji slightly part his eyelids to look at the teen more closely.

"Are you headed somewhere? I thought you might have time for a cup of tea."

Fuji's face is an absolute blank and Echizen can't fathom what's going on in his head. Well, that's nothing new either. Fuji-senpai, more than any other of his old teammates, was always a mystery. Ryoma is tempted to lie and say he is headed for his training. He can remember just too well Fuji's sharpness and the slightly sadistic streak that made of him a fearful enemy and an unnerving friend. It is only expected that those features of his character grew up with him and are skilfully concealed behind the friendly smile.

"Fine," he sighs finally, sullenly, looking for a split second more like his old self than he has in the last three years.

Fuji's already huge grin widens and the both of them start walking side by side in a comfortable silence. Echizen is dreading the moment Fuji will start questioning him about the last six years. There is not much to talk about, and, except for the tennis part, his life during that time has become a huge secret that is revealed only in dreams. Or rather nightmares.

And he is not willing to share them.

He definitely should have turned the invitation down.

Fuji takes him to a smart place that makes them stand out among the businessmen because of their casual clothes, but he looks cheerful and comfortable, and Ryoma has never cared too much about appearances after all, so he relaxes as much as possible considering that a ghost of his past is sitting in front of him, ordering some expensive Darjeeling tea. Ryoma has never had a strong liking for tea, except for his mother's green tea that has always been perfect to wash a good Japanese breakfast down with, so he orders grape Ponta. Apparently that's somehow funny, because the other young man laughs softly.

"You haven't changed a bit," Fuji smiles.

But the way those blue eyes are piercing his tells Ryoma that Fuji doesn't believe a single word of his light-hearted sentence, and that he knows that Ryoma has realized this. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and tries with all his might not to look away.

"Neither have you," Ryoma shoots back with a steady voice that suprises himself.

"I guess we never stop being what we always were," the answer comes immediately hidden behind a gentle smile that tries to conceal a slight bitterness that seems to surround the words. Ryoma doesn't agree with that statement, but says nothing. He is too busy trying to understand the bitterness coating Fuji's words.

Still, six years of apartness are turning out to be a bigger obstacle for decyphering obscure conversations than expected. And being that it's a fact that Fuji has always liked talking in riddles, Echizen just sits back and crosses his legs, calmly waiting for the other boy to show him what this is about.

Fuji looks around, his smile dying a bit on his lips.

"Hyotei's Atobe showed me this café several years ago," he says, unexpectedly. The name of the school sounds kind of foreign even to his own ears. It has been too long since names like Hyotei or Seigaku have lingered between his lips. "I've never been a big fan of posh places, but they serve an exceptional tea here, which is why I've kept returning."

Ryoma looks around mildly interested. It does look like a place Atobe Keigo would recommend. But why Atobe would take Fuji to a café is another story. Ryoma'd rather not think about that. Fuji's voice makes him turn his eyes towards him again. It is almost eerie how he still looks like the fourteen-year-old he knew a long time ago.

"How long has it been?" Fuji seems to think for a couple of seconds. "At least six years. I have wondered from time to time what became of you. I was really surprised when I saw you on TV last summer, playing the US Open. Congratulations on your trophies."

"Thank you."

"Then again, I probably wasn't all that surprised," Fuji adds, as an afterthought.

Ryoma raises his eyebrows, but, again, says nothing.

Fuji opens his eyes completely to look at him, and is rewarded by Ryoma's uncomfortable shifting. It is certainly endearing to see that his gaze can still make the kid feel awkward, despite the brand new layer of indifference that seems to surround him. He knows it might be just a reminiscence of Echizen's old self, though, and it might fade as soon as they get more comfortable with each other. Fuji can't tell yet. There is a lot that he can't tell yet. But he is definitely up to the challenge. Fuji has never believed in fate, but he is starting to think that Ryoma's return at this very moment to play this very tournament could mean something.

But then he might be wrong.

Not like that worries him. He has been wrong a lot of times in his life. And he is still alive and kicking. With an emotional baggage that he would have never thought he would end up carrying, to be honest, but life is like that. Especially when one doesn't go with the flow. The flow is boring and his heart has always beaten to a different rhythm.

"You are staring." Echizen's voice sounds accusatory.

Fuji's smile widens. He indeed was staring, but he also was a little too lost in his thoughts to make anything out of what he has been seeing. At that very moment, the waiter arrives with their order, sparing Fuji from having to apologize or justify himself.

Fuji takes his sweet time to breathe in the familiar scent of his favorite brand of tea and takes a small sip from his cup. He can tell his silence is making Echizen nervous, but he doesn't care. In fact, it makes the situation even more entertaining.

"Fuji-senpai," Echizen says finally.

Fuji looks at him, his long and thin fingers still holding the cup in mid air.

"Do you still play tennis?" the younger boy asks.

Fuji loses his smile for several seconds, surprised. The good old Echizen. Always thinking only about tennis. Always concentrating only on what he has in front of his eyes. Fuji puts his cup of tea down and licks his lips, enjoying the aftertaste.

"I do. I must say I was tempted to quit, some time ago, but it has remained interesting. You know I'm fond of interesting things." Fuji's smile is set in place again and he tilts his head slightly to the side to look at Echizen. "I'm probably no match for you anymore."

Echizen wonders about the intention behind that "anymore". His mind flies back to a certain unfinished friendly match in a rainy day. Fuji was apparently superior then, but Ryuuzaki-sensei stopped the game just when Ryoma was finally catching up. He had broken Fuji-senpai's Higuma Otoshi, too. Rather, Fuji had allowed him to break it. Ryoma had challenged him, and Fuji had accepted the challenge. That was something Ryoma appreciated: the way Fuji-senpai only cared about the thrill of a game. It is with players like that that Ryoma has been able to see his mistakes, get over them and become stronger than he was. Playing against tough opponents that want to win a game at any cost helps anyone improve. But selfless players that show you exactly what your deficiencies are and open a clear path that will allow you to overcome them are rare and precious. These are the players that push you toward your goals. Players like Fuji-senpai.

Or Captain Tezuka.

But Tezuka beat Fuji. And Ryoma beat Tezuka. Thus, Ryoma is, allegedly, better than Fuji-senpai.

Anymore.

Except he can't be sure because they never finished that match. Aditionally, he, himself, is proof that players can dramatically improve from one game to the next one. He also knows there are all kinds of players, starting with the ones who, like Fuji-senpai used to do, play only to their opponent's strength and have never reached their own limit.

"I saw your match yesterday," Fuji says, with a predatory smile. "It almost looked like you were dancing across the court. You've become almost elegant."

Echizen's skin tingles with a mixture of elation and trepidation and snorts. It's a bitter sound that makes Fuji wonder about the reasons behind it. It also makes him feel excited with the turn his life has taken, having thrown Echizen back into his path.

"Almost," Echizen is saying.

Fuji's permanent smile widens, making him close his eyes again. It is funny how the other boy relaxes almost instantly. It is not an obvious thing, just a very slight movement of his tense shoulders, and maybe the almost imperceptible loosening of his fingers around the purple beverage. But Fuji is too used to observe people and judge their reactions. That is his job after all. Well, it will be, some day.

"Yes, almost. Your playstyle is..." Fuji looks for a good word, for the correct one doesn't seem too proper. He was about to say obscene but that's not something he should throw at Echizen on their first meeting. Not that obscene is a bad thing, not applied to the way Echizen plays tennis. It is exciting, hot, nearly arousing. Every movement seem carelessly thrown into the mixture to make up an apparently rough playstyle that's a lot more thoughtful than it would seem. Every motion seemingly offering a veiled view of what the young man has to offer, almost like a woman making use of every one of her seduction tools at once. Except applied to tennis.

Echizen is waiting for him to end the sentence. Fuji shrugs.

"Your playstyle is violent. It's like you were fighting something else than just your opponent. There is no elegance in desperation," he says finally, feeling a smug satisfaction when Echizen frowns. "That doesn't mean it's graceless. In fact, it is a delightful sight," he concedes.

For some reason, maybe a nuance in Fuji's voice, the words of the last sentences sound to Echizen's ears like something entirely different, something not related at all with tennis. Something more private and inviting that is threatening to make him blush. If it wasn't Fuji-senpai sitting in front of him, he would certainly think that he was being hit on. The both of them keep quiet for a while, Fuji drinking from his tea, Echizen playing with his glass.

A sudden beep breaks the silence and Fuji produces a cellphone. There is a cute strap hanging from the device: a small brown bear that makes Echizen smile almost wistfully. Fuji raises his eyebrows surprised and apologizes before answering the call. After a short conversation that leaves Ryoma totally clueless about its possible topic, his old teammate slides the phone back into his pocket, and downs the rest of his tea. He also puts enough money to pay for both drinks on the table and stands up, bowing slightly towards Echizen.

"I'm really sorry. Even though I dragged you here, it seems I have to leave sooner than expected."

Echizen gets to his feet as well, and nods. He tries to conceal the disappointment behind one of his trademark cocky smiles. He doesn't know exactly why he is disappointed. Especially when he was so wary of a meeting like this. Unfortunately, he still has a couple of hours to dwell on it, before he resumes his training.

"I'm glad we could talk like this," Fuji adds, with a gentle smile that suddenly changes into a more playful one even as his eyes open completely to look into Echizen's. "See you in the arena."

With those words, Fuji turns around and walks away, leaving Echizen confused enough to forget about his disappointment. After a few minutes, and with his heart racing within his chest, Echizen leaves in a hurry, running towards the Tokyo Dome. During a tournament, he usually concentrates only on the players within his block. It's not until the tournament advances to the next round that he pays any attention to the rest of the players. Echizen is not careless. He is just practical.

There is a giant graphic posted in a board near the main entrance. It contains the information about the four blocks of players the tennis tournament has been split into.

And there, before his unbelieving eyes, almost at the end of the last block where the newbies and wild cards are usually placed, there is the name he is looking for: Fuji Syuusuke.