Disclaimer: I own very little.

Nothing in Tennis

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

- Anonymous

Chapter 4
Confusion

The feeling was, to say the least, very confusing.

For the first time ever, Sengoku felt guilty for being attracted to someone. He wasn't used to this. He usually accepted his attraction, no matter what the target – once he had figured it out, he'd even taken his bisexuality in a stride – but this felt just… wrong. Sure, he'd liked younger people before, but…

It wasn't really because Dan was younger, though. He might have reasoned it by thinking that Dan looked much younger than his years, but while true, it wasn't the real reason for his hesitation. At its simplest, he concluded, it was because Dan was his kouhai. And not just any kouhai, but the one he had always looked out for, like he were his brother. You weren't supposed to lust after such kouhai.

Yet here he was, standing at the side of the court, his eyes more intent on Dan's backside than his form. Damn. For such a small kid, Dan sure had some muscle, enough that it was visible even under his long pants and jacket. Of course, he would have looked even better in just a t-shirt and a pair of shorts…

An image rose to Sengoku's mind, a memory rather than a figment of his imagination, and he shuddered slightly. The memory of the dark bruises on the pale skin was definitely enough to chase away whatever excitement there might have been. Which was all good, anyway – no lusting after kouhai. Bad Sengoku.

Of course, he knew Dan was not a child anymore. Well, not as much of one as he had used to be, anyway. He was taller now, if still tiny, and stronger and faster and more mature. However, there were certain pieces of evidence of this fact Sengoku would probably never get used to.

Like the swear words.

Sure, Dan practically never swore. He was well-mannered and polite, after all, never saying one word out of place. However, once or twice Sengoku heard him mutter quietly, under his breath, "Fuck."

It was most likely due to Akutsu's influence, he knew. Nobody could hang around another person that much and not pick up a habit or two. And it wasn't like it was often, even – once or twice a week was hardly a habit, or even an occasional slip-up. It was still a rarity.

Which still didn't explain why his pants always began to feel somewhat uncomfortable as he heard that high, melodic voice lending its charm to such a coarse word.

Dan had grown up, that couldn't be denied. He hadn't perhaps gained much height since the beginning of middle school, but it was clear that his still slight weight was mostly muscle mass with no baby fat remaining. His face was slightly narrower, his features sharper, and he actually frowned sometimes at something else than Akutsu's stubbornness. It was clear to anyone who looked closely enough that while Dan could have easily passed for someone several years younger, he was definitely more than mature enough for his age.

Sengoku wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or a bad one.

He could still deal with it, though. At least in tennis practice, there were other people around. Most of the time they distracted him so that he couldn't concentrate on Dan. The time he did spend alone with the younger boy, like walking him home from school – as Dan was avoiding Akutsu for some reason, it was his sole duty now – wasn't so much he'd have gotten overcome by his attraction and actually made a move or something equally stupid.

Which was why he was almost ready to scream when Muromachi called him one day and told he'd fallen badly sick.

It would take a few days for him to recover, Muromachi told. And yes, he was well aware they were supposed to be holding a club tournament soon and decide on the line-ups, and that there was a lot of other work for the vice-captain to do, too, but he simply couldn't get out of the bed at the moment and even if he could have his mother would have never let him. So could Sengoku perhaps please find someone else to do it for the time being? Like Dan-kun. Dan-kun would surely be delighted to help, and he certainly was capable enough, what with his own experiences of being in charge of the team the year before. Actually, he'd call Dan-kun himself so he wouldn't cause Sengoku any more inconvenience.

It wasn't like Sengoku could refuse. If he had rejected the most sensible option for help Muromachi would have surely questioned the decision, and Sengoku wasn't quite ready to explain his little problem to his vice-captain. Muromachi certainly would have had a field day with it, and that was exactly what Sengoku didn't want.

So now he was stuck with Dan for the club duties. And while time spent with the younger boy was definitely not unpleasant, it also made him feel quite uncomfortable quite often.

Like now. Dan was working on the line-up for the tournament, occasionally asking Sengoku's opinion on this player or that. He was doing a good job – Sengoku hadn't even imagined he'd have such a clear picture of each player's skill level after being in the club for such a short time, but guess that was data player for you – but that wasn't what Sengoku was thinking about now. Even his responses tended to be rather unimaginative one-liners. All this was due to the majority of his brain functions being directed at processing the image of Dan sucking lightly at the end of his pen.

How naïve could someone be? No, how naïve did he have to be not to realize what kind of an effect such a sight would have on others?

"Sengoku-buchou?" Dan looked up at him, brown eyes wide as ever. "Is something wrong? You look strange desu."

"Nothing is wrong," Sengoku replied with a somewhat forced smile. Now look at that face, Sengoku Kiyosumi. It's the face of a child. One does not lust after children.

"I'm not so sure about that desu." Dan stood up, his jacket hanging on thin shoulders that, while still narrow, were already showing the signs of reaching towards a broader form. A pen rolled down to the floor as he accidentally pushed the desk, and he turned around, bending to pick it up. Sengoku swallowed. It was no good telling yourself someone was still a child when their behind looked like that even under track pants.

He should not be missing Dan's old tight little shorts so much.

"So." Dan placed the pen back on the desk, turning to look at Sengoku, his hands placed defiantly on his hips. "What's wrong, Sengoku-senpai? And don't try to tell me there isn't anything because I won't believe you desu."

Sengoku sought for words, trying to think of something that might be considered an acceptable response. Coming up short, he finally sighed, "I'm just… distracted."

"Distracted?" Dan blinked, cocking his head to the side. "By what?"

The twitch of his lips might have been a smirk or a somewhat sad smile, Sengoku wasn't sure which. "You, Dan-kun." And, before Dan could form a response, he stepped forward, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the younger boy's lips.

Dan's lips were soft, Sengoku noted, soft and warm and everything he had imagined them to be. Except for the unresponsive part. He could have written it off as simply shock, but knew better than that. Part of the reason he was known as a great flirt was his tendency to always tread on the side of caution. He was self-confident, true, but not self-delusional. And right now, he knew Dan was not returning his kiss.

The reality of his action setting in, Sengoku stepped back, his eyes widening as he realized just what he had done. Dan was sure to hate him now, he thought. He, too, would be avoided just like Akutsu. And then who would keep an eye on his precious, precious kouhai?

"I'm sorry," he said, backing away. Oh, the shame – the great flirt Sengoku Kiyosumi actually apologizing for a kiss. "I – I'm not sure what came over me just now." Like Hell he didn't. But 'I'm this close to jumping you' was something a good senpai should not say to their kouhai, however true it may have been.

Dan was looking at him strangely. Any time now, Sengoku knew, he would be told to go and leave the younger boy alone forever. Well, at least he had gotten a kiss – it was more than Akutsu had managed to get before being abandoned. Cold comfort, though.

"Please forget I did that," he murmured, turning away so as not to have to look at Dan. "I won't do it again, I promise." Anything to stay close to Dan. To keep him safe, if possible.

"What if I don't want to forget?" Dan's question made Sengoku twirl around faster than Muromachi served a ball. He stared at the kid in disbelief, taking in the slight flush on the little face.

"What do you mean?" he asked, hardly even daring to hope. Dan probably meant he'd rather just hate Sengoku. Yes, that must be it. And however much it hurt to think that, it still hurt less than getting his hopes up only to have them crushed again.

"I mean that I don't mind desu." The blush was even more obvious now, but the determined shine in the brown eyes was still stronger. "I – I like you, Sengoku-senpai desu." With a slightly lower voice, Dan added, "I really like you desu."

"You mean that?" Sengoku asked, not daring to believe his ears. Not even he could be this lucky, could he? "You seriously mean that?"

Dan nodded. "Why would I lie about something like that?" he asked seriously. "You are nice and kind and – and good-looking and –" The blush making his cheeks burn, Dan muttered, "I just don't know if you like me desu…"

"Didn't I just kiss you?" Sengoku blinked. Was that how little Dan thought of him? That he'd go around kissing just anyone? …Well, so that was pretty much true, but he didn't kiss people he was emotionally involved with if he didn't like them. Well. Not often, at least.

Dan sighed. "Sengoku-senpai, you're known even outside our school for your tendency to flirt with everything that's even remotely attractive, legal, and walks on two legs desu. Your track record isn't exactly good."

"Hey, hey, wait a minute now," Sengoku exclaimed. "Just because I flirt with everyone doesn't mean I'm not capable of actually being interested in someone for real! And, well, you are cute. And nice and polite and pretty and good in tennis and – everything."

"Girls are pretty." Dan frowned a bit. "And I'm not a girl."

"Of course you aren't," Sengoku said. "I should know the difference by now or be ashamed. I never said you were the girl type of pretty. You are a pretty boy, Dan – like manga characters, you know? It doesn't make you feminine. Especially not," he swallowed a bit, trying not to think too hard on the matter, "with those muscles of yours."

"What muscles?" The younger boy seemed almost amused. "You have muscles, Sengoku-buchou desu. Akutsu-senpai has muscles desu. I'm just a scrawny little boy who looks like he's scarcely hit puberty yet. Nobody who doesn't know me can guess my age right."

"Then they've never seen you on a tennis court." Sengoku hadn't seen many official matches of Dan's since the last year's Nationals, but he had seen the practice matches, and even those showed such a fire in the boy that he could very well imagine what he would be like in an official game. "Believe me, when you are playing, there's nothing childish about you."

Dan still looked somewhat unsure. Sengoku summoned up his most charming grin.

"Come on, Dan-kun. You like me, and I like you. I know you don't really trust me on this matter, and I think I understand why, but at least give me a chance, okay?" As Dan still seemed to hesitate, Sengoku added, "Come on. You know me. You know I wouldn't ever deliberately hurt you, kid."

To punctuate his words, he leant closer again to press another kiss on the soft lips.

This time, however slowly, Dan responded.

What was it with managers and data, anyway? Or perhaps data players and managing. Not that Sengoku had any statistics or anything – he was certainly not a data type, himself –, but those two did seem to coincide more often than he could allow for chance. Sure, there were different kinds of data, but still… Yamabuki sure was lucky to have one of those combinations.

Of course, to Dan, data was merely one part of his way of playing. However, Sengoku had already come to learn it did help sometimes, especially when it came to line-ups. And, more importantly, it kept Dan's mind off other things, like today. It was a very nice day, and Sengoku didn't want his boyfriend to be bothered by anything but possibly Seita-kun's unusually staggering serves today.

His boyfriend. That was a difficult thing to get used to, wasn't it? Especially for one such as him, flighty and whimsical as he was. However, for now, he'd actually managed to keep from flirting with anyone else. He'd given Dan-kun a promise, after all, and even if he wasn't quite used to the thought of monogamy, he'd not break his word.

Sometimes he wondered whether he'd gone mad. Then, however, like just now, he saw Dan sitting on a bench by the courts, writing in his notebook while he waited for the practice to start. He looked so absolutely adorable, didn't he, biting his lower lip like that as he was deep in thought!

Sengoku moved closer to have a look at whatever Dan was scribbling – unlike most data players Sengoku had come across, Dan was never very secretive about the odd bits of information he recorded. As he peered over the first-year's shoulder, though, he noticed something peculiar.

"Huh?" Sengoku blinked. "You're writing with your right hand?" The pen was indeed held in Dan's right hand, his handwriting somewhat messier than usual but still legible. Amazing. Or perhaps the truly amazing thing was that Dan's right-handed handwriting was better than Sengoku's. Ah, well. There was a reason he wasn't in the calligraphy club.

"Well, yeah desu." Dan glanced up at him. "My hand gets tired if I have to write too much at a time, and we just finished a huge essay in class, so I decided to switch hands to give my left one some rest before picking up a racquet."

"I never knew you could do that," Sengoku remarked. "I mean, sure, you play good tennis with your right hand, but writing is more precise, right?"

"It's a survival skill." Dan's lips twitched a bit, in which emotion, Sengoku wasn't sure. "Neither my father nor some of my old teachers approved much of the use of left hand, so I've had to learn desu. Left's my main hand, yes, but when pressed I can do most things with my right hand, too desu."

"Woah. So your father's one of those traditional guys, I guess." Sengoku grimaced, silently wondering whether Dan-san had ever used violence to reinforce his views in his son's mind. "Unlucky."

"Well, it's his opinion." Dan shrugged. "I think by now he thinks I'm mostly right-handed, and I've never thought to correct him desu. He's happier not knowing."

And, if what Akutsu had told was correct, happier father meant less bruised son. Damn, damn that bastard.

And damn Sengoku himself, for not being able to protect the kid.