A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 15

A/N: The end is in sight. You know, I thought this was going to be a moderate TezFuji piece. Maybe eight chapters. This is what happens when you let Inui and Kaidoh step in for a subplot. Any thanks for sticking with me, especially all my reviewers and my super-betas. Waffles for everyone!

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This would be a lot easier if Renji would stop calling him that.

This would also be a lot easier if he could stop looking to see who Kaidoh was standing next to (No one right now, though he'd spent 35 percent of the time next to Momoshiro, i.e. 35 percent more than Inui preferred).

"15-love!"

Focus, Inui told himself. This wasn't a match he could win distracted, and Renji was about to serve. Another round of serve and volley. Inui waited until he was 75 percent certain Renji would hit a cross shot. He ran to catch it

...and Renji returned it with a straight exactly where Inui had been standing.

"30-love!"

That was the problem with this match. Inui knew Renji's data, and Renji knew Inui's. Thus, Inui found himself thinking in sentences such as, he'll hit a cross shot, but he knows I know he'll hit a cross shot, so he could hit a straight shot to throw me off unless he thinks I know he'll try to throw me off ... Nothing helped. It wasn't that he couldn't predict Renji's moves; it was that he could predict far too many.

His only consolation was Renji seemed to be in the same predicament. Inui knew Renji's sore spots as well as Renji knew his, and he had been able to keep the scores within a game of his rival. Still, his chances of winning stood at a mere 50 percent. If he didn't find some way to increase his own power soon, he could lose. How many laps did Tezuka assign when you lost the game you had given up a doubles spot to play, thus effectively costing the team two matches and the regional championship? Calculating past history and Inui's average speed, he supposed he might return to normal tennis practice before graduating college.

Not to mention Fuji's newest scheme would be ruined. Inui may have been annoyed at his involuntary participation in said scheme, but that didn't mean he wanted to incur any sort of tensai wrath. Fuji had already developed an immunity to the blue aozu, and it would be at least another month before Inui had a suitable substitute.

And Kaidoh was watching...

Was Kaidoh watching? Automatically, Inui glanced to check.

"40-love!"

Damn it, he was not going to go down like this. Not to Renji. Not in front of Kaidoh. Inui pushed up his glasses, attempting block out the occasional bits of banter Renji slung at him. He managed another two points before Renji caught on to his pattern, smashing to the opposite side of the court.

"Game, Rikkai Dai Fuzoku, Yanagi! Five games to four!"

Irritated, Inui stalked over to Ryuzaki-sensei and his water. He needed to calm down. He needed to stop looking to check Kaidoh's position. He needed his data. He snatched the notebook up off the bench, flipping the pages until he came to the well-worn crease displaying Renji's statistics. He found their last match, the analysis, the score of that unfinished game. Frantically, he searched the page for something that would help...

...and then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kaidoh flinch.

What am I doing?

Inui spared a glance towards Renji, who was bent over his own notebook. Everything about this match felt familiar-- not in a comfortable, nostalgic sense, but more like an eerie, long-faded dream. Renji's style had not changed an iota from when he and Inui had been winning doubles tournaments. Still crisp, clean, and utterly flat. Renji played a mental game, and he didn't need a lot of power to do so. Inui had learned what a mistake relying completely on the numbers could be. Losing a regulars spot to two kouhai was not a lesson easily forgotten. His tennis had evolved considerably since those ranking matches. And he knew whom he had to thank for that.

Another glance showed Kaidoh had stopped watching the courts. His hands remained stuffed in his pockets, his eyes trained on the ground.

Kaidoh could beat Renji, Inui realized. Renji could predict every move Kaidoh made and still end up too worn out to return a shot. He had watched the second year train every day, had halved Kaidoh's training menus to keep his kouhai from injuring himself when he inevitably doubled them. Kaidoh had a passion and innate skill for the game that no amount of study could surpass. Renji could never compete against that.

Inui decided it was about time he proved that to Kaidoh.

Five games to four. The solution to winning this match was so utterly simple. Gingerly, Inui set the notebook down, leaning it against the pole. "The data is useless now," he mumbled just loudly enough for his opponent to hear -- hopefully, just loudly enough for Kaidoh to hear as well. He moved to the baseline to serve, adjusting his glasses as he did so. Sure they were secure in place, he closed his eyes and tried to remember what it had felt like to play without them. Instinct, Kaidoh called it. As good a term as any. If he'd just followed his instincts long ago, this whole mess may have been avoided. At the very least, he could repair the damage now by showing where his instincts truly pointed him.

"Five games to four. We appear to be back where we left off, Renji. You don't have any data from this point on," Inui called. Renji may have scowled, but Inui had stopped watching him. His eyes had refocused on the one spectator whose attention he needed right now.

Inui raised his arm and served.

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Momoshiro's expression of abject terror was an image Kaidoh planned to treasure and bring out to taunt the idiot next time he started getting touchy.

True, Inui-senpai had no right to be upset with Kaidoh, who would gladly explain the reason he had shown up late, disheveled, and in the company of Momoshiro as soon as they were in a less public location. Inui-senpai should have trusted him instead of burying himself in that damn notebook, and Kaidoh had had every right to stalk off and ignore Inui-senpai's match.

But this match was too important --to the tournament and to Inui-senpai. And it was Kaidoh's fault the Kanto title was in jeopardy anyway. Oishi-senpai's wrist couldn't be helped, but if he'd had his head more in his own match, he could have covered for Momoshiro's sloppy doubles skills. His unexpected river rescue mission was no excuse. Doubles two was his responsibility, and he'd blown it. So he had to watch Inui-senpai's match, and no one could question why he was so very interested in the outcome.

And who could not watch Inui-senpai demolish the court while uttering primal screams that dropped Momo's jaw to the bottom of the bleachers? Kaidoh felt absurdly proud, even as Inui's skill at singles forced tiny ripples of worry in the pit of his stomach.

"You look worried, Kaidoh. Did I miss something in the match? I thought Inui had finally sealed this game."

Kaidoh started at the sudden appearance of Fuji-senpai. Unconsciously, he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, shuffling a few steps away. Kaidoh didn't dislike Fuji; he just preferred the tensai standing a little farther away, especially without Tezuka-buchou here to monitor any schemes. "No, Fuji-senpai. Inui-senpai is going to win."

"Good. I was worried in the beginning, but I'll trust your opinion."

For a second, Kaidoh's eyes moved to stare quizzically at Fuji, before another point from Inui took them back to the court. Fuji-senpai truly wanted his opinion of the match? Most of the regulars at Seigaku, Kaidoh included, were under the impression that before the opponents had stepped onto the court, Inui and Fuji already knew the outcome. Inui-senpai used data, which was fair enough and didn't always work. Fuji-senpai probably used witchcraft. "Why ask me, senpai?"
Fuji smiled that smile which made Kaidoh feel like a lab rat performing well in a psychological experiment. "Because you know Inui very well."

The mamushi turned his eyes back to the game where Inui took the match point, bringing the score to 6-5. Kaidoh watched Inui and Yanagi change courts, wishing he'd chosen to stand sullenly close enough to hear what the two were saying. Inui-senpai was smiling though, a victorious smile. Kaidoh remembered the crushed look on Inui-senpai's face when they'd lost to Hyotei. How long ago had that been? "No. I don't."

Fuji-senpai actually laughed then. Politely, but still chuckling. Kaidoh hissed to himself. He should know better than to mutter his thoughts around the tensai.

"I'm sorry, Kaidoh. It's just ... you remind me a little of myself right now."

What? Of all the people on the team to compare Kaidoh too, Fuji-senpai would be near the bottom of the list. Right above that idiot Momoshiro (whom he was nothing like). Kaidoh raised an eyebrow.

"I've had that same thought when I watch Tezuka play a match. Some people are very difficult to truly understand, but that's the fun part, ne? Transparent people aren't nearly as interesting." Fuji's attention drifted back towards the game. "In any case, you know him well enough to play a very good doubles game. Few people could manage that with his style."

If we play again, Kaidoh thought, though he said nothing. He kept his eyes watching Inui-senpai's movements. This game would be the last one. Focusing on Inui helped him ignore that scientific stare Fuji-senpai was giving him.

"Saa, you think Inui might go back to singles, don't you?"

Kaidoh knew saying a single word would give him away. He had to use his energy to fight down the blush in his cheeks. Fuji-senpai obviously knew exactly how close a doubles team he and Inui-senpai had been, and he didn't need to know any more.

"Do you want to go back to singles, now that your Boomerang is more or less perfected?"

The question had come up before. Kaidoh watched Inui-senpai serve again, the ball vaguely resembling a photo of a comet Kaidoh had seen in a science textbook. No, he didn't want to go back to singles, but he didn't want to continue doubles with anyone else, either. He shook his head.

"Then you should join him on his cool down run after he wins. My match is likely to run very long if I have anything to say about it, so you won't miss anything. I imagine Inui will have quite a few things to discuss with you now that he's gotten this singles obsession out of his system." Fuji-senpai patted him on the shoulder, glanced at the clock, and then walked down to sit by Kikumaru-senpai.

Witchcraft. That was the only way Fuji-senpai could know these things.