This chapter is longer than the last few (a peace offering). Actually, it's the longest yet. Yay!

Warning: this chapter has my first character-bashing spree. Remember that I did (le gasp) pity the guy while writing this.

Here We Go Again

Chapter Ten: Fun With Counters

Last Time: "Mm…" Brown strands of hair danced lazily in the wind as Seishun's tensai stood. "There's a nice wind today."

The chants and cheers of the crowd filled the air as Fuji Syuusuke smiled placidly. "I wonder who it'll be this time…"

As if the words were some kind of trigger, the announcer's polite voice reverberated over the chatter and chaos surrounding center court. "We will now begin Singles Three, between Seishun Kokou's Fuji Syuusuke and Meshika Kokou's Dan Taichi. Both players please enter the courts."

There was a small moment of shock at the Seishun bench, many of the members surprised to hear the familiar name.

"Who?" came Ryoma's bored voice from the edges of their group.

"O-oi, Echizen, don't you remember?" Momo had a strange look on his face as he posed the question, unsure if he should be amused, incredulous, or simply face palming.

The team's resident genius was one of the few to remain unperturbed, simply humming amusedly as he walked off to the court. 'I'll make sure to show you the counters in order now, Ryo-chan.'

As the tensai walked away, the team's data master spoke up in reply to Momo's earlier question. "Echizen is known to have an awful memory, for names and faces in particular. Considering the fact that it's been two years since he's seen Dan-san, it isn't surprising that he forgot. Echizen, if you want to cure that, I think that my new-"

"Don't want it," Ryoma interrupted hastily, not wanting to turn into Inui's guinea pig… again. Switching his focus to the net that Fuji had already approached, the petite teen found the perfect distraction. "Oh, that guy."

There stood the same person who had challenged Ryoma (hesitantly though it had been at first) shortly after Seigaku's match against Jyousei Shounan. It was the same person, yes, but by no stretch of the imagination was it the same boy. The once little Dan had overcome the height barrier that once gave him so much anxiety. He was no giant, but he could look Fuji in the eye, at least. On top of this, the daily training he no doubt went through at Meshika had provided him with a healthy set of muscles. His eyes and face still contained a polite, childish innocence, though, and his forehead was still covered in a green sweatband.

For whatever reason, Momo chose that moment to burst into laughter. "Sucks to be you, Echizen! You must be the shortest person in the league!" Continuing in his hysterics, (and almost falling off of the bench in the process) Momo didn't notice the small hand flying at the back of his skull. Until he was smacked upside the head, that is.

"If you'd shut up, Momo-senpai."

"What the hell, Echizen? You can't treat a senpai as rudely as that; you just can't!" exclaimed the peeved junior, rubbing the back of his head.

"If you'd please shut up, then."

"Echizen, Momo!" interrupted the stern voice of their captain. "Unless you want ten laps around the complex, quiet down and watch the match."

"Gotcha."

"Hai…"

~X~

"Do you still copy?"

Fuji's query was soft and gentle, enough so that only the teen across from him could hear.

Dan blinked once, then blushed and scratched the back of his head, laughing sheepishly. "Well- that is… no. Over the years, I re-trained in the basics and that's how I play now, desu."

"That's good to hear… Now, let's get to it, shall we? Rough or smooth?" The brunet's head tipped lazily as he smiled, placing his pale racquet tip-down on the ground.

"Smooth, desu."

Nodding once, Fuji spun the handle expertly. Closed eyes watched as the letter "F" whirled around and around, finally clattering to the ground. "Hm. Smooth. It would seem as if it's your serve, Dan-kun." Sure enough, the letter had landed right side up.

"Ah. I'm looking forward to our match, Fuji-san. Good luck, desu!" chirped the former manager, smiling brightly.

"The same to you." With that, the two players turned from each other and began walking towards their respective sides of the court.

"Best of one set match, Meshika's Dan Taichi to serve!"

"Here I come, Fuji-san!" With one practiced motion, Dan began the game.

Making a split-second decision to test the waters, Seishun's genius began a simple rally with his opponent. 'You gave up copying for a mastery of the basics… Let's see if you meant it, ne?'

After they'd rallied for well over five minutes, Fuji decided to pick up the pace, if only a little. The brunet returned a cross shot in kind, grunting slightly. He allowed his muscles to relax the tiniest amount as the ball sailed over the net, bounced, and rolled away. 'Well then, the first point seems to be mine.'

The game continued to this (a.k.a. Fuji's) pace until the middle of the fourth game, a long rally of basic shots that always ended with Fuji getting a point. That is, until-

"Drive B!"

"Point, Meshika! 15 – 30."

For once, the referee's voice had no competition, ringing loud and clear across the court. Everyone could recognize one of the early moves from Samurai Junior's expansive arsenal, but hardly anyone knew why it was coming off of Dan Taichi's racquet.

"Hm? Well, that's not good, Dan-kun. I don't appreciate copycats, you know. Not to mention liars," Fuji stated disapprovingly.

"Eh? I'm really sorry Fuji-san, but I-" the flustered (and admittedly a bit scared) tennis player attempted to explain before getting cut off.

"I'm sure. Now, let's keep this match going," Fuji said with an open-eyed smile that could freeze the bravest of men to their cores. "I believe it's your serve."

Nodding slowly, Dan took his place behind the thin white line. His serve bounced far to Fuji's right, flying off the courts in the process.

"How fantastically convenient," beamed the brunet. "Seventh Counter: Foxhole."

Foxhole turned out to be designed for this exact scenario. It was a sharp backhand that bounced off of the net's outer pole and flew close to the ground on Dan's court, parallel to the net. Just like it's namesake, the sneaky fox.

"Point, Seishun! 15 – 40."

Dan stumbled, just barely managing to hit a shallow drop shot.

"Eighth Counter: Dragon's Breath."

In the same instant that his racquet made contact with the little yellow ball, Fuji twirled it three hundred and sixty degrees. The result was a long, erratic trail of yellow as the tennis ball rocketed around in the air.

The air was filled with the sound of gasps and camera shutters as the crowd began to chatter about the second physics-defying shot they'd seen from the feminine player in so many minutes.

On the bench, golden eyes widened as a set of lips curved into a sly smile. "Heeh… and there are three others that I haven't seen? Sounds fun."

"Point, Seishun! Five games to love!"

'I can't let this continue, desu. I can't let my teammates down by losing to Fuji-san.' Dan smiled slightly, eyes brightening with hope as he sent a deep slice shot into his opponent's court.

Only for his hopes to be crushed a moment later with four soft, unassuming words.

"Ninth Counter: Black Horse."

Blue eyes snapped open for a moment as their owner returned the shot, doubling the amount of spin on it as he did so. The ball shot towards the net, eventually colliding with the white line running along the top of it. After curving up in a way that vaguely resembled Fuji's Third Counter, the yellow orb fell straight down. It spun to a standstill at the "T" where the three boxes met in the center of the court, soon becoming the focus of no few incredulous gazes.

"W-what is this guy?"

The few that could answer the unknown man's (extremely pertinent) question all murmured the same thing, forming a broken chorus: " Tensai, Fuji Syuusuke."

"Point, Seishun! 15 – love!"

"Tenth Counter: Dove's Landing."

The gentlest of Fuji's dozen counters flew lazily over the net, making nearly no noise as it landed, bounced, and rolled away.

Dan twitched, doing his damndest not to show the panic (and slight fear) that the ever-so-harmless-looking brunet/part time Satan was instigating. Honestly, how many of these counters were there?

Still standing just a few feet from the net, said part time Satan laughed quietly.

'I hope you're enjoying the little exposé as much as I am, Ryo-chan. This really is going much better than my original plan.'

"Point, Seishun! 30 – love!"

"It's almost time…"

Ryoma's sharp ears could just barely detect his upperclassman's words. Time for what, exactly? Knowing the genius, the rest of that sentence was either, "for all hell to break loose," or, "for Armageddon. Release the Horsemen."

The flustered Dan hit a fierce drive volley towards Fuji, scrunching his eyebrows slightly. Well, at least he wasn't one to go down without putting up a fight.

The angelic devil smiled, clearly not troubled in the least.

"Eleventh Counter: Artemis"

Ryoma smiled in anticipation and amusement as the ball curved in the air, and bounced in a straight line towards the net. "Did Fuji-senpai take that from Drive C? I'm flattered."

"I believe that the first 60% of the shot, the curve, was based on Drive C, yes, but the straight line took components from Zero-Shiki Drop Shot and Hakugei," replied Inui, his voice barely above a mumble as he scribbled madly. The last time Fuji had put on such an exhibition was his match against Shiraishi, two whole years ago.

"Ne, ne, Ochibi! Did you notice the shape? It's a bow! I think Fuji once told me that the full name was 'Eleventh Counter: Artemis the Huntress' but he thought it was too long, nya. Not enough time to say it and still sound intimidating, apparently." As Kikumaru glomped his favorite plushy, (not to be confused with security blanket, a.k.a. Oishi) the team's focus turned back to the match… in the loosest sense of the word.

"Point, Seishun! 40 – love!"

'It seems that this will be over and done with momentarily,' Fuji observed mentally.

The ball had whistled straight towards his opponent's chest, forcing the teen to hit a lob. It now flew skyward, becoming no more than a little black dot on the sun. The brunet launched his petite frame into the air, one hand outstretched.

"Twelfth Counter: Call of Anubis."

Waiting for the instant that the ball began its descent back to the ground, the young genius smashed downward with all his might. The force of gravity combined with the raw power forced into the shot accelerated the ball. It drilled into the courts, throwing up a puff of dust as it spun on the spot. Slowly, the little blur of yellow stopped rotating. To the crowd's awe, it was now nestled snugly in a small crater.

There was a quiet thump as Fuji landed gracefully. His brown hair shone in a mock halo as he stood and bowed dramatically, one foot stepping back and the opposite arm sweeping across his chest. "Welcome to the underworld," he proclaimed, both to Dan and the thunderstruck audience. Only a select few were aware enough to notice the barely stifled laughter in the words.

"Fuji-senpai… he was planning all of this, wasn't he?" Momo said to no one in particular, a half-smile half-grimace on his face.

"It really is incredible what he's capable of when he actually puts effort into something," replied Oishi, an unnerved (but no less proud) smile twisting his lips up.

"Game and match, Seishun! Six games to love! This concludes the Tokyo Prefectural Finals, all players line up at the net."

As the tension in the air broke and the cheers broke out, the two teams faced walked up to face each other once more.

"For winning three matches to zero, Seishun Kokou will be Tokyo's representative during the Kanto Tournament."

"Thank you for the match!"

Straightening from their bows, both groups walked away. While one was a sea of consoling words and pats on the back, the other was filled with cheer and hyperactive teenage boys.

"Time for Taka-san's?" asked Kikumaru, bouncing excitedly on one spot.

"Ah, but first…" Momo put on a devious smile, directing it at Ryoma. "Kikumaru-senpai, we can't have a repeat of the other day, can we?"

"What're you talking about?" intervened the suspicious boy.

"Oh, don't mind, don't mind, Ochibi," reassured the redhead, a grin matching Momo's on his face as he slung one arm around his kouhai's shoulders. "Now!"

"Wh- agh!"

While the ever-unfortunate Ryoma was distracted by his energetic senpai, the team's trickster had pulled a large black duffel bag from the depths of his large tennis racquet case. Said duffel bag had:

Been thrown around a small teen,

Swept his feet off the ground,

Had its zipper tugged closed in one movement,

Held up against its unwilling occupant's struggles,

And gotten hauled onto a broad shoulder.

"Yosh!" called Momo, completely disregarding the bag on his shoulder's jerking and thrashing. "Media problem solved, Tezu- ow! Oi, brat, quit it!"

The young athlete had gotten the duffel bag to jerk straight into its holder's side. Hard.

"Listen, Echizen. If you want to get out of here without being hounded, stay still and stop. Hitting. Me. How 'bout I get Kikumaru-senpai to buy us burgers for a month, too?" There was a pause, then,

"Fine."

At the muffled reply Momo stood back up, satisfied. His satisfaction didn't last, though. Having apparently developed and perfected the technique to swinging his container, Ryoma chose that moment to deliver his upperclassman's comeuppance.

Nearly shouting over the teen's multiple (and exceedingly colorful) curses, Kikumaru pointed "seriously" in the direction of the exit. "Right! Let's go!"

~X~

Echizen Ryoma was beyond pissed. He might have understood the need to get off the tennis garden grounds unnoticed, maybe just a little. However, he failed to see how carrying him (in that stupid, stupid bag) halfway to Kawamura Sushi was a necessity.

When his stupid, stupid senpai had finally released him onto the ground, he took the opportunity to firmly smack them both upside the head. Momo-senpai had just dodged a little. That, he told himself, was the reason he could barely reach the trickster's spiky head. Not. His. Height.

For the rest of the trip, he didn't say a word to any one of them, ignoring the urge to banter with Fuji about the previous massacre. However, if, for example, the brunet chose to instigate conversation himself, that was fine.

"So, Ryo-chan, what did you think? Are they a match for the world-wide champ?" laughed the feminine third year.

"Heh. Doubtful. We'll just have to find out some other time." The boy noted out of the corner of his eye that they were just a few yards from their destination.

"Pity, I really could use some excitement. That last game just didn't get my blood pumping." Fuji's voice took on a muffled quality as he ducked through the cloth in Kawamura Sushi's doorway.

"Yeah, that was way too easy," commented Ryoma as he stepped over the threshold.

"Now, now, we can't all be super-freaks, kiddo." Momo smiled teasingly as he followed suit. "But don't worry, once we get to Kanto, things'll heat up. Hell, even you might find some challenges."

"Looking forward to it. Ne, Kawamura-senpai!" After his brusque reply, the boy turned to the shop's counter. Behind the display case of ingredients stood a burly teenager with brown hair and a kind face.

"Ah, hey everyone! You won, I'm guessing?" he inquired, setting down his knives.

"Takashi, are the guys here?" called a deep voice from further inside the shop.

"Yeah!" Kawamura shouted back over his shoulder.

"Let the rest of the customers finish up, then close the shop for the night!"

"Really?"

"Yeah." The level of the man's voice dropped as he stepped into the main shop. "Just make sure you get them something to eat; they're always hungry after matches, right?" At the last word of his sentence, Kawamura's father turned to the crowd of tennis players with a friendly smile.

A rowdy cheer of assent (coming mostly from two of the members) was the reply to his words.

"All right, you can go upstairs, just leave your shoes down here. I'll be right there."

Another general "yeah," and the sound of feet trampling up the staircase filled the restaurant.

As he ran up, the last save for Tezuka, Ryoma couldn't help but think, 'will these weird parties have gotten even weirder over the years?'

~X~

As it so turned out, they had.

At first, they'd followed the usual routine, the disorderly shouting for food, the cheers as it arrived, and the general chaos. The only thing different from his memories was Kikumaru jumping (violently) onto Oishi at something the teen said and kissing him passionately on the mouth. And no one looked twice.

Momo was choking on a bite of wasabi sushi when the real curveball came around.

"Hoi hoi, minna-san!" shouted Kikumaru over the steady current of yelling. "We're playing a game now! Inui agreed to set us up with a nice healthy game of 'I Never!'"

…

"What?"

The nine high school students sat clustered around one of Kawamura Sushi's multiple tables. All eighteen eyes were transfixed on the unassuming jug waiting to be filled with liquid and the stack of crystal shot glasses.

To them, the jug and anything accompanying it was to be one part respected and two parts feared. All of Seishun (and the handful of unfortunate teams that had gotten caught up in their antics over the years) knew the dangers of the jug.

Their worst fears were confirmed when Inui walked in, a large martini shaker in one hand. As he tipped the silver beaker over, a clear, icy liquid similar to water (if only, if only) tumbled out.

"Now, since we are all underage here, we've no option but to play a dry version of 'I Never,'" he began, but was interrupted by a hand going up. "Yes, Momoshiro?"

"Eh… What's 'I Never?'"

"It's a popular drinking game. It is played by the participants taking turns at stating something they've never done. For example, 'I've never been out of the country.' I believe Echizen would be the only one drinking that round."

A drinking game? Ryoma remembered his father's warnings to 'stay away from that shit no matter what's going down. If you're ever caught looking even a little buzzed, the media'll rip you to pieces.' However, judging from the jug and Inui's serving of the "water," they'd be drinking something much more dangerous than beer. "You said it was dry. Then we're drinking…?" he asked suspiciously.

"A certain Inui juice of mine that I was just diluting for those among us whose tolerance level is low," replied the data master with an eerie smile.

"Which- Never mind, I don't want to know." Oishi paled midway through his sentence, looking slightly sick.

"Right, then. If everyone understands the traditional standards, I'll explain tonight's rules. Beginning with Kikumaru, we'll go clockwise around the table. Instead of taking a drink, you'll be required to take one shot of… Inui Juice Low Resistance Version 1.0, we'll call it. Last one standing wins."

A shudder of fear ran through the group as Inui passed out shot glasses and filled them. The game was on.

Kikumaru gulped. "Um… I've never gotten in a fistfight with someone, nya."

With matching "tch"s and glances at each other, Momo and Kaidoh raised their glasses and downed the liquid in one gulp. Both slammed the little cups onto the table, facedown, with looks of disgust. To most of the gathering's surprise, Fuji also gulped down his shot unflinchingly. As he set down his glass, also facedown, he smiled at the two juniors. "We all drank correctly. Have you two done this before? Naughty, naughty."

Both blushed slightly. "Doesn't matter," grunted Kaidoh as he tried to ignore the stares and (in one particular case) laughs.

"Is it my turn?" asked Oishi, hoping he'd be spared from one more round of drinking. Inui nodded. "I've never dated a girl…"

Momo quickly drank his second shot, only to choke at the fact that no one else was following suit. "Are you kidding me?" he shouted.

"Heeh… Momo-senpai, what happened while I was away? Did you finally ask out Tachibana's little sister?" teased the team's youngest member with a sly grin.

"M-maybe…" replied the sheepish trickster (1). "Oi, don't change the subject! Of the four shots taken, two of them were mine! You can't do that, no you can't!"

"Momoshiro, it's only been two rounds, calm down," ordered Tezuka.

However, he'd brought up an interesting point. Who should be targeted? Fuji had gotten himself mixed up in all kinds of crazy things over the years, but a low-potency Inui Juice would have no effect on him. Ryoma had a low tolerance for Inui Juice and he'd experienced quite a bit. Momo was just fun to irritate. Choices, choices.

"Fine." Momo looked none too happy as he put on his thinking face. "I've never been mistaken for a girl," he said with an evil grin.

This only applied to two members: the genius and the rookie. The latter took his first shot, grimacing as he threw it back.

"All right, my turn," smirked Ryoma... in an ominous, "I'll get you for that" manner. A few of those wondered which type of question he'd ask, who he'd target. "I've never driven a car." Well, there was that approach, too.

"You little brat!" shouted several of the members. Ryoma was the only one present still under the age of sixteen, and therefore the only one present able to say such a thing.

With various shudders, grumbles, and curses, the whole team (sans "the brat") drank.

"Mada mada dane."

"I'm up next. I've never kissed another man." Inui smiled deviously as he spoke. The other eight teenagers could practically hear 'Ii data' ringing throughout the restaurant.

Kikumaru, Oishi, Fuji, and… Kawamura all reached for their glasses. Kikumaru and Oishi had been kissing ten minutes ago and no one knew what Fuji did in his spare time, (the brunet, on the other hand, had fond flashbacks to Ryoma's dorm room one particular evening) but Kawamura? Several chokes sounded at that one.

"It wasn't on purpose!" he exclaimed, waving his hands and blushing furiously.

"Well, well, well, Taka-san…" said the redheaded acrobat, sliding one arm over his friend's shoulders. "I didn't know you batted for the other team, too," he said in a mock-sensual voice, eyes narrowing slyly.

"Taka-san, you still haven't drank your shot," pointed out Oishi, attempting to save the flustered teen from his lover's grasp.

"Ah, r-right," replied Kawamura, once again reaching for the small glass of clear liquid. "Burninnngggg!" With flames appearing in place of his eyes and one hand forming a fist, he drank all of the IJLRV 1.0 in one swallow. He proceeded to pass out, flat on his back.

One participant drops out.

Fuji smiled. "Looks like Inui Juice is something you can build – and lose – a resistance for."

"Fshhuuu… I've never stolen someone's bike."

"You're still on about that? It's been two freaking years! I didn't even steal it!"

"Just shut up and take the-"

The two rival's bickering was cut off by the sound of glass hitting the table and a slight gasp for air. Ryoma had just knocked back another shot (2).

"Oi, oi, Echizen… When did you…?" Momo trailed off, stopped by the boy's small hand going up in his face.

"I'm not required to say. Now you take yours."

The junior shrugged. "I'll drink to that… Ugh… gods above that's awful." Looking at the stoic brunet next to him, Momo spoke again. "Buchou, it's your turn."

Tezuka sighed. "… I've never been tackled by Kikumaru."

…Of course.

All but Kikumaru (one couldn't tackle oneself, after all) drank. Most had gained a bit of pallor by now, and looked like they were trying not to gag. The acrobat, being the only talkative one prepared to speak, piped up "Hoi, hoi! Fujiko, it's your turn!"

"Saa… I've never been called an idiot."

There was a groan. 'Only Fuji…' Everyone had been called an idiot at least once in their lives. Even Tezuka, growing up in a strict household, was able to say that.

Seven small glasses thumped down on the table.

"God damn… that was my fifth shot!" complained Momo.

"Quit your whining, lightweight," muttered Kaidoh.

"What're you saying, Mamushi? We're not even drinking!" the spiky-haired teen retorted.

"Maa, maa, you two," soothed Kikumaru, pushing the two faces away from each other. "No fighting, we're celebrating tonight. Now, my turn again! Let's see… I've never, ever, ever, not even once gotten to go to Hokkaido, nya! Isn't it unfair?"

A few of them laughing at the senior's antics, Fuji, Inui, Oishi, Tezuka, and Ryoma downed another shot.

As he set his glass down, Inui cleared his throat. "Since we've only had one elimination and we need more juice, I'll be upping the stakes. We'll now be using Inui Hyper Remix Juice."

Silence.

"No!" The team shot to their feet, slamming their hands down on the table.

"Oh? I can always just give all the quitters a glass and we can head home." The tall man had drawn out a bubbling jug of the vile liquid from God-knows-where, and he now set it on the table for all to see.

"Tch…" Ryoma swept his bangs away from his face. "Fine." The young star sat down, and the others soon followed.

"Good," said the data man with a sinister grin. "This should go by much quicker. Oishi, if you will."

"Erm… I… I've never been at the top of my class," stated the mother-hen, trying to find a question that would only apply to those who could withstand Inui Juice.

Sure enough, only Tezuka and Fuji grabbed a glass, and sure enough, they both withstood it. "I recommend it," hummed the prodigy.

"Am I next?" inquired Momo. At the nods, he smiled. "Echizen, you're going down. I've never met Nadal face-to-face."

Sending his senpai a death glare out of the corner of his eye, Ryoma slowly reached for his glass. "Kampai," he muttered, knocking it back. The others watched with bated breath as he flinched, choked, and fell over, not even twitching.

Inui checked his pulse (which had slowed drastically) as he laughed somewhat maniacally. "Out cold. Just like old times…"

~X~

A pair of golden eyes blinked sleepily at the evening sun invading them and a small, pale hand rubbed their closed eyelids. The owner stepped groggily through a door, kicking off his sneakers. Apparently, the game hadn't lasted much longer after he'd passed out. It had quickly gotten down to Tezuka, Fuji, and Inui, all of which could stomach the awful drink. Deciding it was time to get back to the dorms, Fuji had called a (large- very, very large) cab and the three had loaded their teammates in. Needless to say, they received several strange looks from the driver while doing so.

Ten minutes later, Tezuka had shaken everyone awake as they pulled up to T-V-1.

Now, the team was slowly filtering into their home, some talking of going in the onsen to clean up and others speculating as to how many seconds it would take them in bed to fall asleep.

"Oi, Echizen, sounds like we're going in the onsen. You coming?" asked Momo, stifling a yawn.

"Sure. Be down in a sec…" replied Ryoma as he trudged up the stairs. A trip to the onsen would feel nice. In the month since he'd moved in, he'd only seen it. However, the steam and the hot water would… okay, so even if he wasn't sweaty or tense, hot water always felt good.

He swung his door open carelessly, slamming the palm of his hand on the sensor that would turn on the ceiling…lights…whatever category they fell in.

As soon as they illuminated the room, the tennis player froze. Someone was in his room, sitting on his beanbag chair, and reading his tennis magazine. Two someones, actually. Another was lounging nonchalantly against the back wall.

"What the…?"

"Yo, Chibisuke."

Hm. I wonder who it could possibly be.

I don't hate poor little Dan (may he rest in peace), but jeez I hate listening to him talk. All those stupid desu's.

Ahh, counters. You can pull them out of absolutely nowhere and still rest assured that the canon is just as ridiculous.

I'm lazy and didn't want to keep writing, "he served the ball," so I introduced Tilde the Timeskip (this little guy: ~). Remember, "~X~" shows different in setting and/or longer timeskip. Tilde flashes past a minute or so (so I can be lazy).

Also, yes I know that the driving age in Japan is 18, but I DON'T CARE!

(1) AHHH! Quick, take a picture! It's a HET pair!

(2) If you wanna know the story, tell me. I'll put one together.