Disclaimer: I own very little.

Nothing in Tennis

"Love means nothing in tennis, but in life, it is everything."

- Anonymous

Chapter 2

Changes

It was, Sengoku decided, very good to have Dan in the team. He was the same happy boy as ever, easily making everyone adore him – even those who had at first protested at his making instantly a regular. It seemed whenever Dan was around, everybody was happier. And he was good at playing, too.

They often spent the breaks during the practice catching up. They'd been somewhat out of touch for the last couple of years – while they'd met occasionally, it had been exactly that, occasional. Especially the last year had been too busy for them to meet often, what with it being Dan's last year of middle school, the schoolwork eating up his time along with his captain's duties.

Of course, Sengoku wasn't the only senpai with whom Dan had reunited. The little boy seemed to be in heaven as he first ran into Akutsu. To be in the same school with his precious Akutsu-senpai again – what more could a boy ask for? Apparently nothing, judging by Dan's beaming smile as he squealed, "Akutsu-senpai!" and ran to hug the object of his adoration.

Hug. Hug Akutsu. Sengoku was probably the only one in sight whose eyes weren't about to fall from his head, and even he was startled. Sure, he had known that Dan missed Akutsu, but that much? He'd had no idea. Or had the kid become suicidal, perhaps?

For some reason, however, Dan actually survived the ordeal. Sure, he was shaken off immediately, gaining a glare from Akutsu. However, the grey-haired delinquent didn't even bother to hit the boy, instead sighing in apparent boredom as Dan launched his bubbly flow of greetings and catching up and I-missed-yous all at once. The onlookers turned away one by one as they realized the idiotic first-year surprisingly wasn't about to end up as a stain on the school yard. Sengoku, however, kept watching, noticing the minute change in Akutsu's gaze whenever the golden eyes were directed at Dan.

Hmmm, interesting. Definitely interesting.

Not only did he latch onto the oh so precious senpai whenever he saw him during lunch break or such, Dan actually managed to drag him into the practice. Of course, he couldn't force Akutsu to join the team, but the grey-haired boy watched the practice every now and then, making nasty comments about everyone's skills and generally being mean. Sengoku didn't like this, but he would have liked it even less if Akutsu's notions hadn't been true. As it was, though, he decided to bear it as it didn't happen often and actually gave him good pointers as to what everyone should concentrate on for the time being.

Dan's skills in tennis left little to wish for by now. He seemed to defeat almost any opponent without difficulty; only some of the other regulars managed to put up any kind of resistance. Even then, Dan won all of his matches – except for a few Sengoku strongly suspected the boy threw intentionally. This was another peculiar thing about Dan – most players of his skill level were too stuck on their pride to ever risk being thought worse than they were. Dan apparently didn't mind if someone didn't realize the true extent of his skills, not if he considered the victory more important or beneficial to the other person. Modest, humble, and kind – Dan had not changed.

Sengoku had also not changed on some aspects, sadly. Sadly, as it meant that one day Sengoku found himself staring at the door of the club house, the whole team standing right behind him. They were all waiting to get inside the club house to change their clothes. Only, they couldn't.

The door was locked. And the keys were inside. And it was all Sengoku's fault.

"Honestly, buchou," sighed Muromachi. "It'd probably be better if I took care of locking up every time, given how absent-minded you are." For someone who apparently admired him, Muromachi sure could be irritating sometimes. Especially when he was right.

"Oh, shut up," Sengoku muttered, thinking about how very unlucky this was. "Focus on finding a way inside instead of complaining."

"Well, we did leave the window at the back open to get some fresh air in," the vice-captain said thoughtfully. "Maybe someone could fit in through it."

"Let's go look!" Sengoku said cheerfully. Already, his day was looking up again. This might actually not end up in a disaster!

They did go look, the whole team. Only, to their disappointment, they discovered the window to be very small.

"It's no use," sighed Yukagi, a third-year powerplayer. "Do you want me to break down the door, buchou?"

"There's no need to." It wasn't Sengoku who spoke. "I think it'll manage."

"Dan-kun?" Sengoku asked, blinking at the small boy who suddenly was standing at his side. True, Dan was smaller than anybody else in the club, but still… "Are you sure?"

Dan sighed. "Just help me get up there desu," he said. "I have to try at least desu. And if I don't get through it, we'll at least know no one can either desu!"

"But what if you get stuck?" asked Sengoku, genuinely worried. Not the least because he really didn't want to tell Akutsu that he'd let Dan get stuck on a window frame.

Dan grinned disarmingly. "I've gotten myself out of worse places desu," he said. "Now, a little assistance desu?"

One of the bigger members of the tennis club obediently allowed Dan to step on his hand, then lifted the smaller boy up to the window. Dan pushed it all the way open, then reached his arms through the window. Kicking at the wall, he crawled further, first his head, then his shoulders disappearing through the window. Sengoku let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding when, without any apparent difficulty, the rest of Dan followed, worming his way through the open window Sengoku could have never hoped to pass.

"I think I found the keys desu," they heard a cheerful shout a moment later. "I'm coming to open the door now!"

After hearing this, everyone headed to the front door of the clubhouse. At the exact moment they arrived there, the door flew open, a triumphant Dan standing in the doorway.

"Da-da-da-dan!" exclaimed Dan, grinning. "Door open for your convenience desu!"

"Thanks, Dan-kun," Sengoku sighed. "You really saved the day here."

"Comes with being so cute desu," Dan replied with a teasing grin. "Sometimes it's good to be small, you see."

"I definitely see that," the captain laughed. "Now, may I have the keys back?"

"These desu?" Dan eyed the keys in his hand in a speculating manner. "No, I think not desu," he then said.

"Huh?" Sengoku blinked. "What, are you going to keep them?"

"Indeed I am." Dan smiled brightly at him. "We wouldn't want to be locked out again, now would we?" He glanced at the rest of the team with a disarming smile. "I've been locking up the middle school club room for the last three years, so I do think I'm qualified enough for the job desu," he pointed out. "While Sengoku-buchou clearly isn't."

"Too true," sighed Muromachi. "I vote Dan-kun keeps the keys." There were only sounds of agreement at this, much to Sengoku's disappointment.

"What's this?" the redhead protested. "You don't trust your very own buchou?"

"No," replied Yakugi dryly. "At least, we don't trust you with locking up the club room."

"You know you're no good at it, Sengoku-buchou," Nitobe pointed out. "Isn't that why you gave the keys to Dan-kun on his first year of middle school?"

"Fine," sighed Sengoku. "But are you sure you want to do it, Dan-kun? It's a lot of responsibility. You'll always have to stay until everyone's left, too." The year before, taking turns with the previous captain, he had come to notice this was the part that irked him most about the arrangement – it seemed it was always his turn to lock up whenever he had a date or something. …Perhaps giving the keys to Dan wouldn't be such a bad idea…

"As I said, I'm used to it," Dan said cheerfully. "Besides, I'd rather be the last than get locked out desu!"

And thus, Sengoku agreed, chuckling a bit at the smile on the first-year's face. Dan looked so very happy over being trusted with such a simple duty!

Though he found nothing wrong with it at the time, he would later think back and realize the boy was actually too happy.

The kid was back. Like the two years of limited connection hadn't ever happened, he was right back at his usual routine of stalking and adoring and bothering Akutsu. He was exactly like Akutsu remembered him, too. Sure, he was taller and his hair was longer and his voice was a bit deeper – just a bit, though, he still would have passed for a girl easily – but somehow he still seemed the same. The same shine in his eyes, the same grin, the same enthusiastic "Akutsu-senpai!" following him around wherever he went.

He wasn't sure how to feel about all this. Had he actually admitted such a thing even to himself, he would have thought he'd missed the kid. Sure, he hadn't paid much thought to the brat lately, but now that there again were hasty footsteps by his side he found himself wondering exactly how he had lived without them. He could hardly remember it, even though it hadn't been even a week yet. Dan fucking Taichi sure had a way of worming into your way and staying there.

However, Akutsu couldn't help but notice some differences between the current brat and the old one. He was anything but an expert in reading people, but some changes were too obvious for even him to miss. Like the fact that Dan, previously practically always clad in t-shirts and shorts whatever the weather – somehow, he never fell ill – but now he preferred long sleeves and pants. Akutsu wasn't sure why, but it bothered him somewhat. It concealed the kid's almost sickly thinness, yes, and Akutsu no more had to wonder why he wasn't on his deathbed with all the colds and pneumonias he should have caught by every right, but it still was… wrong somehow.

Ah, well. He'd just have to get used to it. And he would probably do so soon, given how much the kid now hung around him. Of course, there was also the tennis practice, which he had made a habit of watching – just because there was a good place for smoking nearby, not for any other reason, fuck it all. It was only a matter of being used to it.

However, the other changes… he wasn't sure he could get used to them. Or even wanted to.

They weren't noticeable at first, no. Akutsu couldn't tell exactly when he had first realized there was something actually wrong, not just a change of clothing style. It was, he later reflected, most probably the one time he saw the brat before the brat saw him. Walking behind the kid, he'd cleared his throat, expecting Dan to spin around with a smile and a happy greeting as always. Instead, the kid had jumped, and as he turned around his expression had been one of fear, not enthusiasm. Sure, anybody could be startled, but Dan practically never was – and the flicker Akutsu saw on his face before the smile emerged was one of actual fear, too. He knew what fear looked like. That was the one emotion he wouldn't mistake.

What the fuck was wrong with the kid, anyway?

It would have been nice to think that things were back to the old for the most part, only with Sengoku as the captain now and with a few years added to their age. However much he may have wished so, though, it sadly seemed not to be true.

Slowly, Sengoku came to realize that while Dan appeared to be the same bouncy boy he had been two years ago, this was not the entire truth. Sometimes the bright smiles seemed almost false, however unlikely that was – Dan was always happy, after all; why would he have to fake a smile? However, Sengoku was an expert in reading people. He had to be, to know how people really felt about his flirting instead of relying on what they said aloud. And he knew that sometimes Dan would have really rather not smiled at all.

There were other things that were wrong, too. Sometimes his reaction to something would be strange or just uncharacteristic, sometimes he set his words in a way that made Sengoku feel weird for no clear reason. Of course, he might just be imagining things, might just remember wrong. He certainly would have preferred to think so.

However, he had to be sure. And there was only one way he could be sure – ask someone who had also known Dan in middle school.

Not just anyone would do, though, oh no. It had to be someone who knew the kid as well as he did. And really, in the current Yamabuki there was only one such person – even if the person himself would have probably denied it altogether.

Thus, one day after school, Sengoku found himself walking towards Akutsu's favourite smoking spot. He knew Dan had class duty so he had some time before there was any fear of interference. Finding the delinquent there, exactly like he had known he would, Sengoku sat down next to the older boy.

"You've been watching the tennis practice," he said. It was not a question.

Akutsu shrugged. "What the fuck is it to you if I have?" he growled then.

"To me? Quite a lot, actually. I'm the captain; it's my duty to keep my club members safe from creepy stalkers." Sengoku grinned at his sort-of-friend. "Are you a creepy stalker?"

"Fuck off, Sengoku," Akutsu growled. He glared at the redhead. Then, however, the glare turned into a gaze that was almost thoughtful. Questioning, too. "What the fuck's wrong with the brat?"

Sengoku didn't bother to ask just whom Akutsu was referring to – there was no point, really, not when it was so obvious. In fact, he was somewhat relieved he didn't have to bring up the subject himself, as he had not been sure how Akutsu would react to that. "I'm not sure," he said. "I wasn't even entirely sure whether there is anything wrong, really, but if you've noticed it too…" he trailed off, knowing the other knew what he meant.

"How the hell could I not notice? He's anything but himself. He never was that easily scared, before."

Sengoku had to admit this was true. Dan had never been one to get scared easily – rather, he was somewhat too fearless. Akutsu, for example, had never managed to frighten Dan despite the fact the delinquent had even most adults terrified of him. Sengoku sometimes suspected Dan was as lacking in the self-preservation instinct department as he was gifted in the tennis instinct one. But now… it seemed any sudden approach startled the boy. It wasn't normal. It wasn't Dan.

"His smiles are fake," Sengoku confided, startled at how the words sounded as he said them aloud. Until now he'd managed to somewhat deny them, convincing himself it was just his imagination, but now… The words hung heavy in the air between them, neither unable to deny or disprove the claim in any way. And, as he well knew, it bothered them both a great deal.

"It's as though someone fucking hurt him," Akutsu said, the cold gaze in his eyes hinting all too clearly what was the fate awaiting anyone who hurt Dan Taichi if Akutsu got his hands at them. "Like he's afraid anyone who touches him is going to hit him or something."

"Oh, gods," muttered Sengoku. "Who'd do something like that? I don't know anyone who'd be able to hurt Dan-kun."

"Sadly, you don't know fucking everyone in Tokyo, Sengoku," snorted Akutsu. "Even though you've probably bloody slept with half of them. It's not necessarily that, though. Who knows what's going on inside that brat's head." With a glare, Akutsu added, "But I'm going to find out."

"It's good to know you care, Akutsu," Sengoku said, grinning a bit.

"Che." Akutsu turned away. "I don't care. If I find out whatever's bugging the brat, though, he might actually stop hanging off me at every fucking opportunity."

Sengoku didn't comment further. They both knew which one of them was right, after all.

And then Dan was there, again, all smiles and sparkling eyes and bouncing up and down as he talked right Akutsu-senpai desu, and at first glance, he seemed to be as cheerful as anyone could ever be.

Sengoku took another glance, though, and what he saw – the wrong curve of lips, the flash of emptiness in the brown eyes – almost killed him.

He'd find out what was bothering Dan. And when he found out, he'd fix it, whatever it was.

Nothing and nobody was allowed to bother his kouhai like this.

Due to waking up well before his alarm went off, Sengoku was unusually early as he arrived on the tennis courts. Well, unusually for him, at least. Nobody else was on the courts yet as he headed towards the club room. Hopefully Dan had already come to open the door or he'd have to wait.

Thankfully, the door was not locked. Happily he pushed it open, walking inside. "Behold, everyone! Here comes your beloved buch- er." He didn't finish his sentence, too shocked to speak. His eyes were nailed at the sight in front of him.

It was Dan, yes. Young and pretty Dan. Dan with the big brown eyes and a dazzling smile.

Dan, shirtless as he was changing into his tennis uniform, with sizable bruises on his back.

"Dan-kun?" breathed Sengoku, his eyes wide with shock. "What – what's happened to you? That looks awful! Have you showed it to a nurse yet?"

"It's nothing!" the younger boy exclaimed, quickly pulling on his tennis club t-shirt. Already wearing his track pants, he then pulled on a jacket, quickly zipping it up to his chin. "Just a little accident desu."

"What kind of an accident causes traces like that?" Sengoku asked in disbelief. "You looked like you've been beaten or something!"

"I fell," replied Dan. "Down the stairs. It hurt a lot desu." He was very determinedly not looking at Sengoku.

Sengoku started to speak, then stopped. The tone of Dan's voice made it impossible for him to question any further, never mind the look in his eyes. It was as though the kid was begging him not to. While usually quite stubborn, Sengoku figured this was not the right time for such a discussion. Even if he tried, Dan probably wouldn't say a word more.

"…Don't fall again," he said quietly, dropping the subject for the moment even as he vowed inwardly to get to the bottom of this issue.

There was no way falling down the stairs would leave fingerprints on your shoulder, after all.