Echizen's photo interested him. The freshman was so good at keeping out of the way, hiding himself in the photo's glossy corners, a convenient hat brim or strategically placed arm always in the way. Echizen, it seemed, had mastered the art of avoiding media.
Even Pro Tennis Monthly had problems getting pictures of him; he moved so much during tennis matches that photos often turned out blurry, and the Seigaku jacket and aforementioned hat had the effect of reducing the player's face to sprightly sprays of fine black hair, a nose and a mouth.
The picture he had taken for yearbook was probably the only picture of Echizen--in existence-- taken so clearly, so candidly.
The minute Fuji got home he hooked up his flash card to his well used USB port, and scanned eagerly through the photos of his day to day life, scrolling down to the bottom and clicking open the file 'IMG0513'. The pit of excitement boiling in his chest minutes before froze into a tiny ball before shrinking down to the size of an atom and rolling away like tumbleweed in a desert.
This was possibly the worst photo he had ever taken.
Brown eyes stared out blankly from a doll-like face, not particularly unattractive, and not hideous, but the whole image gave off the vibe of something forbidden locked up in a glass coffin; it was okay to see, but not to touch.
It was so blank, so unemotional. The whole picture seemed to have turned gray, even with the bright blue of the Seigaku jacket. Colors were leeched, turned to a stark monochrome and those eyes looked like the kind that were dug out of corpses sockets to be place in jars of formaldehyde, forever staring at a room's occupants with horrid accuracy, the weight of a bottomless pit held within a small porcelain face.
Fuji shivered. Something was obviously wrong. Every picture had a soul. Eiji's were always brimming with energy, Tezuka's with a secure, leadership, Kawamura's and Oishi's were full with a brimming, kind, warmth.
But Echizen's picture contained nothing.
--nervosa--
It was a tennis practice like any other tennis practice. The tennis team were running laps, Inui prodding them on with an evil look on his face, this time holding something yellow in a container.
Ochibi was pretty quiet these days, Kikumaru thought as he jogged beside his doubles partner. He shot a bright smile to Fuji as he passed, and worked his legs a little harder. He couldn't let his friend get that far ahead.
Little Echizen Ryoma. He fought down the urge to giggle as he thought of it. He was so cute, with that perpetual scowl and large eyes peering underneath a large cap brim. And he was so easy to hug, just the right size, nice and compact with a little firmness to his skin but not an overwhelming squishiness. Like the perfect teddy bear. One that growled at you.
And that was what Echizen Ryoma did after Kikumaru tackled him from behind, right in the middle of running laps. He growled, and Kikumaru giggled again. "Ochibi, you're so serious when you're running laps!" he exclaimed.
"Che," Echizen scoffed, looking off to the side with his usual disinterested expression. He was too tired to fight his senpai today; he was still tired from practice on the home court last night.
"Ochibi, cheer up, nya!" Kikumaru scolded, slapping the back of the freshman's head lightly. "It's such a wonderful day, and there aren't any clouds! You seem so down!"
Echizen just gave his overly happy senpai a flat look as Kikumaru, ever cheerful and tactile perched his chin on top of Echizen's cap-covered head. "And you're surrounded by friends, aren't you? So smile!"
Echizen looked at him straight in the eyes suddenly, causing Kikumaru to pause in surprise for a few seconds. "Kikumaru-senpai is always smiling," the freshman stated.
"Of course!" Kikumaru grinned at his favorite freshman, recovering quickly.
Echizen scowled. "Why do you say that? That 'of course'. It's like you expect everyone to be happy."
"Mou, Ochibi's so mean!" Kikumaru exclaimed, pouting. "Of course everyone's supposed to be happy! You can't be depressed always!"
"That's rude and presumptive, Kikumaru-senpai," Echizen snapped back. He didn't seem to notice that Kikumaru's normally tight grip was loosening a little. "Not everyone is happy. And what about you? Why are you always smiling?"
"I'm always smiling because I'm happy, Ochibi," Kikumaru defended. "There's no reason for everyone to not be happy!"
"Well, why are you happy senpai?" Echizen asked. "Can you tell me why? Why are you happy? Why does everyone have no reason not to be happy?"
"I'm happy because I have friends, Ochibi," Kikumaru said quietly. Both of them had stopped running a long time ago, and Kikumaru was backing away slowly, until he was arm's length apart from the boy. "There's no reason for anyone to be unhappy, Ochibi."
Echizen stared at him, and gave him a bitter-looking smirk. "You're not smiling anymore, Kikumaru-senpai." He tugged the brim of his hat down sharply, and glanced backwards at his senpai through the corner of his eyes as he began to run again. "And it seems like you don't have anything to be happy about after all."
--nervosa--
Taka had always been such a kind child. He liked the fish that swam around in that cheery little aquarium at home, which was quite ironic seeing as his family was made of sushi chefs, he liked sunny days and the dew that beaded on the grass in the morning.
If one were to ask him how content he was with his life right now, he would answer readily that yes, he was very content. He had many great friends, and he knew lots of people that played tennis well, like Tezuka or Echizen for example.
Tennis was fun. He didn't have to restrain himself there. He was really quite shy most of the time and every so once in a while he needed to let the more bombastic side of him out, and he found tennis was a great way. It had just happened one day, his first time gripping a racket, and then swinging, lightly, gingerly, then feeling such anger for not being able to say a word, for not being able to speak his mind and he suddenly swung with such power and he didn't notice the "BURNING, BABY!" that ripped from his lips.
Today though, during tennis practice of all things, Taka had a strange feeling that something was wrong. Kikumaru, who would usually jump on Echizen, seemed to have had the life sucked out of him. The red-haired boy was gripping his racket so hard that there just had to be something wrong.
There didn't seem to be anything wrong with Echizen, but it was Echizen, it was always hard to tell with him. He had been looking a little more tired lately, but it was just the smudge under his eyes, there was nothing to worry about.
Just then, Kikumaru cried out and threw his racket down on the ground, pushing past Tezuka who was just about to open his mouth and reprimand him for throwing his tennis racket in such a fashion. The boy disappeared, and Taka turned back to Echizen to realize that the freshman had a small smirk on his lips.
It was a strange one. Different. His usual smirks were just a small crease in the corner of his lips, but this one was hard, sun glinting off hazel browns with the dull matte shine of chrome on a bike, and his mouth was stiff and mocking, patronizing. It was a sinister expression.
"Echizen?" Taka said hesitatingly, staring at the expression on the freshman's face. "Is there something wrong?"
Echizen pinned him down with a quiet stare, burning holes into his forehead. "No," he said slowly. "Why?"
"You just seem a little tired," Taka answered, something at the back of his mind telling him that there was something wrong; that this wasn't normal. "Are you sick?"
"No."
Echizen looked away. When Taka felt the silence growing, he lifted his foot, intending to leave, when Echizen spoke again.
"Normally, Taka-senpai, we don't even talk. What makes today so different?"
"We do talk sometimes, Echizen," Taka insisted.
"But not normally," Echizen pressed on. "So what's so different about today?"
Taka opened his mouth wordlessly, closed it. He couldn't say much about that.
He'd walked over because of Eiji, hadn't he. He'd been intending to inquire about Echizen's health first, then ask him why he was giving Eiji the Evil Eye. There was no reason for him to. But Echizen was always so rude and in a lot of ways extremely obnoxious and the more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
"What did you do to Eiji?" he asked, voice quiet.
"What do you mean...Taka-senpai?" There it was, that infernal smirk.
"You know what I'm talking about. Don't think nobody saw that look you gave him."
"What look?" Echizen turned away, tugging at his cap.
"Echizen! Don't play innocent! What did you do to Eiji!" Echizen sent him a sharp glare and began to amble off, but Taka gripped him by the shoulder roughly and spun him around, clenching powerful hands in the freshman's collar and dragging him up so far that his feet almost came off the floor.
"I didn't do anything to him!" Echizen shouted angrily, causing some heads to turn in surprise. "He was the one that kept on assuming everyone should be happy! He's the one who doesn't understand anything!"
"What are you talking about Echizen?" Taka asked, his grip loosening. There was something in the air, and it chilled him.
Echizen glared at him and managed to free himself from his senpai. "It's nothing," he mumbled, walking off and straightening his cap.
As Echizen walked away to his next match, Taka felt strangely hollow; he had missed something important, but he didn't know what it was. Nor could he explain why he had felt a tinge of fear when the freshmen gave him one last fleeting look.
--nervosa--
"Eiji?"
The door of the tennis clubroom creaked a little as Oishi gingerly stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His footsteps sounded outrageously loud in the silence of the clubroom so usually filled with exuberant noise.
He found Kikumaru sitting against the last row of lockers, facing the wall.
"Eiji, you have to get back to practice," Oishi admonished, walking over to the acrobatics player. "Tezuka's going to get angry with you if you don't come back soon."
"Oishi..."
Kikumaru had his knees folded up to his chest, and his face was buried in them. Oishi sighed, sitting down beside his doubles partner and scooted closer, so that their shoulders were touching.
"Oishi...I fought with Ochibi today..."
"Ha?! With Echizen? How as that even possible? He's so...so..."
Kikumaru shook his head. "I don't even know how it started, he just asked me a strange question and then...I don't even know what happened."
"...Do you want to talk about it?"
Kikumaru shook his head sadly. "There's really nothing to talk about, we just had a fight, is all." He got up, and paused. "Oishi?"
"Yes, Eiji?" Oishi watched his friend warily. Eiji had really gotten attached to Echizen, and to have Eiji behaving like this afterwards indicated that it was something serious.
"There's something wrong," Kikumaru said, looking unsure of himself. "I don't know what it is, but something's just wrong."
"...You mean with Echizen, huh." He wasn't sure when, but situations in the tennis club had become tense, and their freshman rookie seemed to be at the center of things.
Kikumaru nodded, looking relieved that his doubles partner understood his feeling. "Oishi, I don't know what's going on."
Oishi shifted uneasily. "It's Echizen...he looks so tired these days- sometimes its like he's a zombie..."
Kikumaru nodded. "He isn't happy, Oishi."
"Has he ever been?" Oishi sighed as he got up, dusting off the seat of his shorts. "I don't think I've ever heard him laugh."
"What should we do then?" Kikumaru asked. "What can we do, nya?"
"Echizen probably won't tell us anything," Oishi told him grimly. "We'll have to wait for him to come to us."
Just then Tezuka came into the locker rooms, reprimanding both of them about missing tennis practice and how they shouldn't idle, and ordered them each twenty laps.
They both complied readily, but the troubling thoughts of their kouhai stayed with them throughout tennis practice.