Disclaimer: See prologue
Here We Go Again
Chapter One: So Now...
Upon his arrival at the tennis courts on the day of the Tokyo District Finals, the former captain of the Seigaku tennis club found even more chaos than usual.
The nets were splayed halfway to their destination, some still rolled up. Ball carts were nowhere in sight, as though they had been abandoned along with the nets. All of the first years were gathered around Horio, who was being as loud as ever. The boy was going on about how he "heard it on the news this morning. It didn't surprise me, because with my five years of tennis experience, I could tell that he wouldn't be able to take the pressure much longer." The walking megaphone held a laptop that was running through a clip from the morning news.
So the first years had been distracted from their morning chores by that. It must have been a scrap of new gossip Horio had managed to come up with.
Several of the second and third years were either screaming in disgust or already passed out on the ground, foaming at the mouth. He assumed that the viscous, color-shifting liquid pooling around them was the cause, though Inui was nowhere to be found.
Meanwhile, those that were left standing were split into various groups, talking (shouting, really) about something or other. Half of the Regulars were nowhere to be found, and those who were on the courts were not helping.
Fuji stood in a secluded corner of the courts, chuckling quietly and snapping pictures of the scene. He almost seemed to be egging everyone on. Though however irresponsible this was, it wasn't nearly as bad as -
"Unyah! Oishi! What are we going to do!" At that moment, Kikumaru was making at least twenty copies of himself. Said copies were running, flipping, glomping, bouncing and making general pandemonium all across the courts.
As the poor mother hen of Seishun tried to calm down his doubles partner, Tezuka stepped onto the clay, emitting an aura that would demand answers and laps from the entire club, if only he could still assign them.
The third year regular and current vice-captain, Aoiyama Noburu, seemed to be the only one who knew what was going on and wasn't sent into a state of panic by it.
Walking over to his unfortunate classmate, and bringing his killing intent with him, Tezuka demanded answers. "Aoiyama-fukubuchou, what in the world is going on, and why is no one doing anything about it?"
"T-Tezuka! We didn't know you were here yet!" The boy had a round face, and a belly to match. He had no particular skill in tennis and he was a coward, and Tezuka honestly couldn't fathom how and why he was even in the club, much less the Regular squad.
"That much was clear. Now, why is nobody practicing, what are the first years doing, and why on Earth are there twenty Kikumarus?" The ex-captain was practically spitting fire, much to Aoiyama's dismay.
Suddenly, the portly boy was saved by another outburst on Kikumaru numbers two, seven, and eighteens' part. "Ochibi! Why? What happened, nya?"
At the mention of their rookie, all of Tezuka's attention snapped to the acrobat. "Kikumaru Eiji! I want you here, right now! Only one of you!"
"Ah! Tezuka!" The doppelgangers disappeared, leaving a sole Kikumaru to run up to the angry teen, Oishi in tow. "Did you hear? No one knows what's going on! I've got no idea what he was thinking, nya!"
"Kikumaru, I need to know what you're talking about first. What has this got to do with Echizen?"
"Saa… Worried, are we?" Seeing an end to the anarchy, the genius of Seishun had wandered over to his friend.
"Fuji." The brunet greeted, the two syllables also carrying the threatening demand for information.
Fuji chuckled, taking his time to respond. "Well, today on the morning news, a rather shocking press conference aired. It seems little Ryoma-chan grew tired of the big leagues. I believe his words were, 'I'll be leaving the professional tennis scene for a while. Why? Hmm… I got bored.'"
The courts were silent for one rare moment.
"Everyone, 100 laps!"
~X~
"Achoo!" Echizen Ryoma paused in tying his shoelaces to rub his nose. Apparently someone was talking about him. All things considered, it was to be expected after what his manager had called "that stunt," at the press conference.
Flashback
"Ryoma Echizen, what were you thinking? What was that crazy stunt at the press conference?" The angry voice of Matthew Davis grated on his ears through the phone.
"I thought I made that abundantly clear at that media circus earlier, Mr. Davis." The young man's nonchalant voice replied.
"Well you didn't! All that that 'media circus' accomplished was throwing the world into chaos! Not that you care - hell, you're probably enjoying it! You are by far the most difficult-"
Finally deciding that he'd had enough of the man's nagging, Ryoma decided to cut the conversation short.
He looked around, sharp eyes attempting to look through the crowded train station for a cab to take him to the airport. He continued, ignoring the flustered American's protests. "I've beaten everyone there is to beat, and just on time, too. I've got a promise to keep and some new opponents to make back in Japan."
With that final cryptic reply, the young star summarily hung up. Walking up to one of the many yellow taxis that littered American cities, he handed the driver a small wad of bills. "I need to go to JFK airport."
Flashback End
Tugging one final time on his shoelaces, Ryoma stood, slinging his tennis bag over one shoulder. "Kaa-san, I'm leaving!" he called to the quiet house.
"Alright, take care! Are you sure you know the way?" came the muffled response.
"Yeah. Oyaji said it's just a block from the middle school. Later." He exited the temple, which had honestly not changed in two years, and entered the familiar street with soft, graceful footsteps.
As he began the trek to his school – starting tomorrow, that is – he looked around lazily. The same houses lay beyond the sidewalk, with lawns slightly browned due to the thrice-damned Japanese summer heat. The cherry trees lining the street had long since traded their blossoms for green leaves, for which he was grateful, as their shade provided a brief respite from the sun.
He rounded the corner, remembering the many times Momo-senpai had nearly killed the both of them at this exact spot, pedaling at breakneck speed so as not to be late for morning practice. A soft snort sounded from the teen, breaking the heady silence. Yes, he was most definitely going the right way.
Just then, a gentle breeze ruffled his dark emerald locks free of his collar, where they had gotten stuck while he got dressed. As irritating it was to have his hair, now just past his shoulders, blowing around his face, he didn't dare pull it into the "samurai ponytail" (as dubbed by the media).
Though they were admittedly few, he had taken measures to retain his anonymity. He sported a light blue shirt, a color he usually couldn't be caught dead in, reflective sunglasses, and a black cap. Pulling his hair back in the style used in tournaments (the closest thing to a photo op the media would ever get) was pushing his luck too much. He was likely to be discovered as is, with today's particular destination.
Sighing in resignation, he continued to walk, both thanking and cursing the fact that only his family and manager knew he was home.
~X~
The final bell rang, and the sound of footsteps and idle chatter filled the halls of Seishun. It was the end of the week, and students were now either headed to their respective clubs or dorms.
At afternoon practice, the tennis club was in no better shape than this morning. If anything, it was worse. While, no, not much could hold a candle to twenty hyperactive cat-boys inadvertently putting on an aerial show, there was the Tezuka Factor to be thought of. The Tezuka Factor was simple; it stated that any space within 100 yards of Tezuka Kunimitsu would be 75% more disciplined. Tezuka Kunimitsu was not within 100 yards of the tennis courts, he was off at the Tokyo District finals, and as such, chaos reigned back at Seishun.
"Oi, freshmen!" A harsh, deep voice rang out across the courts. The source, as the terrified freshmen trio soon learned, was a tall second year with dark skin and bleached hair pulled into cornrows.
"K-Kazuya-senpai!" The three stuttered, having flashbacks to their first year of middle school. This, however, was even worse than getting conned by Arai. Now, there was no chance of a Regular showing up to save them, and this particular man looked like he wasn't above inflicting physical damage. As if that wasn't enough, his tennis style seemed to have been inspired by a one Kirihara Akaya. "Do with that what you will," a vindictive third year had once snickered at them.
Seeming to be scornful, yet goaded on by their cowardly response, Kazuya began to approach their corner. "Just because the Regulars are away at Districts doesn't mean一"
"Ne."
All heads snapped to the courts' entrance, where a lone figure stood. The newcomer's sleeveless shirt exposed toned arms, partially covered by black and silver wrist weights. Black hair that gleamed green in the sunlight drifted lazily around thin shoulders. Try as they might, the tennis club members couldn't discern the person's eyes, hidden behind sunglasses as they were, but the half of the face not hidden in shadows was pale, feline, and beautiful.
"Ne," A drawling, slightly singsong voice that could've been either alto or tenor snapped the students out of their assessment. "This is the Seishun Kokou tennis club, right?"
Blinking a few times, and sounding dumbstruck, Kazuya spoke up. "Y-yes, it is. Did you hear all about us because of nationals? Wanted to check it out or something?"
The dark-haired stranger seemed to find that highly amusing for some reason. "More or less… Do you play well?"
"Heh. As a matter of fact, Miss-" The 'girl' choked. "I am the closest to making it among the Regulars. They're all away though, so why don't we have some fun?"
The girl was now visibly twitching, jaw clenched and fists balled up. "First, I want a match. You can set the terms." Only the freshmen could see that the young woman was trying to keep from spouting obscenities at their senpai.
"Oh, you play? That's just too cute. I hope we were your inspiration." Kazuya was grinning lecherously at the other teen now. "How about this, if I win, you go on a date with me."
"How original," muttered the girl under her breath before speaking up. "I don't think you really want that, but whatever, your choice." The girl set her bag down, reaching inside and emerging with a red racquet in hand. "Which?" She asked, standing and putting the racquet on end in one fluid motion.
"It doesn't matter, you can serve, but aren't you going to change into a cute little tennis skirt first?"
"K-Kazuya-senpai…" Only the freshmen could see that the knuckles on the girl's hand were white from trying to throttle her racquet.
"Please stop trying to flirt and focus on the match, Kazuya-san." The girl already stood on the base line, in a serving stance.
"Don't worry honey, I'm coming. Oi, don't you think your arms are too buff for a chick? Girls shouldn't-" That was about the time that a tennis ball slammed into his jaw at 200 kilometers per hour, effectively shutting him up.
"15-love."
~X~
Not ten minutes later, Echizen Ryoma languidly walked off the courts, leaving Kazuya sprawled on the ground covered in sweat.
"Che. I hope the other senpai are better than that bastard. Oi, you. Where's the main office?" A stunned Katsuo pointed, not even taking his eyes off the tableau on the courts.
"Th-that way, then up the stairs to the left…"
"Ah. Thanks."
He walked through the deserted halls, wondering why the Regulars were all away. They could be at a tournament, he supposed. Turning a corner, he spotted a sign protruding into the hallway. Main Office.
He opened the door and stepped inside. "Excuse me," he said, addressing the young woman behind a counter littered with flyers and calendars.
"Yes, Miss, what can I do for you?" Ryoma twitched. That was twice in one day that he was mistaken for a girl. Was he that bad?
"Actually, I'm a boy," he deadpanned. A blush, then look of recognition appeared on her face as he removed his sunglasses to reveal golden, cat-like eyes.
"E-Echizen Ryoma!"
"Yes. My oyaji told me that I needed to speak to someone in the main office to register here." He hoped he hadn't fried her brain, but the look on her face said otherwise.
"Register? Wait, do you mean that you're going to become a student here?" The poor woman looked like an alien had landed, UFO and all, in her office and asked to be registered at school (not that Ryoma noticed).
"Yes. Is there a problem with that?" What was wrong with this woman? Could she only state the obvious?
"Of course not. I assume you'll be starting on Monday?" She finally seemed to be coming to terms with the situation.
"Yes." Ryoma was really getting bored by all this.
"Alright then. If you could fill out these forms, then return them with your parents' signature before school on Monday, we'll give your uniform and schedule then."
"Aa. Got it." Accepting the forms, he spun on his heel and walked out.
As she watched his retreating back, the receptionist only had one thought running through her head: What just happened?
Yaaaayyyyy the first real chapter! LE GASP! Tezuka isn't captain and some loser is vice captain! What am I doing? Guess you'll just have to keep reading, huh?
OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU PEOPLE! I woke up the morning after I'd posted the prologue and I had 14 damn emails! And they kept coming all day! THANK YOU! I'm so glad this got a good reception!
Oh, yeah, I'm giving Ryoma a tattoo and I don't care what anyone says. It'll be about a square inch and in kanji, REVIEW if you absolutely can't stand the thought of "Rain" behind and a little bit below the left ear (result of a bet with Kevin). Until next time! [Edit 7/12/15: Yeah it's done. Suggestion box closed]
Also, big big big thank you to my ever-awesome beta, SelfHatredIsCommonEnough. If any of you have read Forbidden Desires by Luana Araceli, I think you'll like his story, Haunted by the Rain (It's. Really. Good.)