Genius Chapter 4: Genius 003: 1st Year vs 2nd Year, a prince of tennis fanfic

Wintersalad │ Disclaimer: I do not own "Prince of Tennis" or any referenced translations. │ Written: 09/12/10 │ Posted: 09/12/10 │ Last Edited: 05/01/11

Genius 003: 1st Year vs. 2nd Year

A girl with high pigtails rocked on the tips of her feet. Hands clutched tightly against her mouth, she smiled as her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. What a great find! That boy was so cool! Her grin widened as the thought of creating a fan club solidified and she turned towards her friend.

"Hey, Sakuno, do you really know that guy?"

"H-huh? Um… yeah, a little…," the twin-braided girl replied with a troubled frown.

Was there a special reason that Ryoma needed to dress as a boy…? Normally, school regulations would make sure she wore the correct uniform, right? Why… no how did she go through the trouble of dodging the system? Sakuno remembered mistaking Ryoma for a boy the first time (and second time) they met. It wasn't that she looked or sounded masculine per say, but there was definitely an air to her that one wouldn't expect from a typical girl. A strong sense of purpose? A reckless single-mindedness? It was hard to describe. And it wasn't as if she knew enough about her to accurately pinpoint the feeling. Biting her lip, Sakuno pondered the consequences if Ryoma's secret should be revealed. Maybe she should keep quiet before she learned about the circumstances...?

'Lucky, lucky!' Tomoka mentally cheered, ignorant of her friend's inner turmoil. 'First dibs, get!'

Tugging on her wrist guards, the subject of the two's thoughts stood up from the ground in her change of t-shirt and shorts. Wiping the dirt from her clothes, she popped her white cap and placed it over her dark locks.

"Hold on, Momoshiro!" one of the two second-years called out. "You can't- mmph!"

Momoshiro smothered the words out with a hand placed over his mouth. With a wink, he turned towards the court, "So? I won't tell that, if you won't tell~"

Walking towards the small first-year across the net, Momoshiro looked into dark amber eyes, "I heard from the old lady counselor that you know the twist-serve?"

"What? Really?" Horio asked with wide eyes. The two other freshmen, Katsuko and Kachiro, turned puzzled eyes between the two.

"That's right, that's right," Momoshiro smiled. "Unlike the usual slice, which turns left, the twist-serve bounds when there is a top-spin, meaning the ball flies straight into you face! Oh~ Scary, scary!"

To the side, the two freshmen girls joined the rest of the spectators. They'd been going to register for the girls' tennis club, but Tomoka was all in favor of doing that later so that she may watch this impromptu match, dragging a still dazed Sakuno behind her. 'I don't really get it, but it must be something amazing. It's probably what Ryoma used against that high school student last time,' thought the twin-tailed girl. She watched worriedly at the scene, wishing her grandma was here to explain things and mediate between what looked to be another battle. It would appear that her new (self-appointed) friend was a definite trouble-magnet.

"There aren't many-"

"Hurry up and start the match," Ryoma interrupted. She glared at Momoshiro beneath her shadowed dark bangs. What was his game? Was he trying to pick a fight? She felt like the second-year was purposely provoking her. Why else would he be giving incorrect directions and then showing off his pin-pointing skills, before sniffing after her techniques?

Grinning, entirely unfazed and unabashed, Momoshiro asked, "Which side?"

Narrowing her eyes at his grin, she replied, "Smooth."

Hands in pocket, the second-year smirked. Spinning his racket by the handle on the ground, he watched as it fell on its side, landing on its back instead of the front. "Too bad, it's rough," he reported. He grinned wider. "But I'll let you serve. I want to hurry up and see that serve!"

Ryoma twitched. That-! Inwardly growling, she reflected on what she saw from this guy already. It was obvious that though he was a second-year just like the other two swindlers, he held some authority or sway around the tennis club that the other second-years did not. A regular perhaps. Which meant that he was probably exceptionally strong, becoming a regular without waiting until his third-year. Also, he didn't just showcase his pin-pointing skills earlier when knocking the can, but his physical power as well in being able to crush a can filled with rocks (though she took credit for having knocked most of them out already).

"I'll be taking this side," the subject of Ryoma's musings called out, snapping her out of her daze.

That was when she noticed his limp.

It was barely there and really, some may even say she imagined it, but she instinctively recognized this all-too-familiar situation. His ankle was injured. And just like that, the anticipation she had for the match, the anticipation she refused to acknowledge ever existed, disappeared as she fully embraced the ever-growing anger within her. She was being underestimated, again!

"The best of one set! Echizen service play!"

Sakuno wondered if Ryoma was feeling alright. The Ryoma before her now looked as if she were in pain. Now that she thought about it, the pain was present last time she watched Ryoma play as well, but the shadow in her eyes was less noticeable than the mocking grin upon her lips then. Today, her face was tight and closed.

It felt cold.

"Awesome! He's really good in tennis!" Tomoka jostled Sakuno. "Let's cheer for him, Sakuno! Cheer!" She emphasized it with a jab of her elbows as she raised both her voice and arms in the air.

"Ah, haha… yea," Sakuno replied weakly.

She had just missed the ace Ryoma played, but somehow, she felt like she had already missed too much.

"I refuse the slice serve." Momoshiro stared down at the younger player across from him. Pouting, he whined, "Don't be so stingy."

Watching him out of the corner of her eyes, Ryoma tilted her cap forward.

"I don't want to be generous to you."

'Arrogant much?' Momoshiro slumped. Ah-h. Maybe he was losing his charm?

"15-0"

Plunk

Ryoma shifted her weight. At four-foot, eleven, she needed to compensate for her lack of power on serves by bending further, and she'd need all the power she could get with this guy. Dropping herself, she propelled herself into the air and swung forward.

Pluck!

"…!"

Tshshshsh!

Momoshiro, though startled, widened his eyes and took stance to return the sudden twist-serve Ryoma sent him, but it was too late.

The ball blew away his racket.

"Amazing! That's the twist-serve?"

As the gallery voiced their excitement, Momoshiro bent down to retrieve his racket. Though his reaction was delayed this time, at least he managed to avoid being hit in the face. "Scary, scary…" he mumbled.

"Are you hurt?"

Momoshiro moved his eyes towards the cocky brat. Hmph.

"30-0"

Ryoma gazed dispassionately at the unfolding events. Detached, she analyzed the situation. Really, it's always the same isn't it? Sighing, she served another twist. 'Even if you go after it when it spins, you won't be able to hit it back.' She mentally admonished as he went up front. 'Timing doesn't overcome the spin's power.'

"Game 1-0! Echizen leads!"

"No way! Momoshiro is a regular!"

She glanced sideways at the person who confirmed her suspicions, before returning her attention back to the game. Though the outcome was clear, she wouldn't return the same disrespect by underestimating her sempai. She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. He was starting to receive her serves. But...

She risked a glance at his face to trace the confident look of his face in her mind, overlaying his image with countless others.

The relaxed tips of the eyebrows.

The unwavering gaze of the eyes.

The slight uplift corner around the lips.

And with a smothered sigh, she closed her eyes to the world.

Pock!

Pluck

Ryoma listened for the tell-tale drop of the ball on Momoshiro's side of the net. At the soft roll it gave, she gave a small smile.

"D-Drop volley? You-! You know how to do that too?"

"…"

Ryoma opened her eyes as she straightened back up. Though surprised, the annoying second-year was already getting up and into position for the next play.

Ryoma didn't like the stubborn look in his eyes.

Sakuno tuned out the fervent ravings of her friend besides her. They were arguing about who was stronger, but frankly, she could care less at the moment. Right now, all she saw was the slumped back of her friend as she bent her head further forward, her cap nearly covering her entire face. The air around her looked thick and suffocating. A choking black.

Ryoma switched the racket to her left hand.

"…!"

Momoshiro widened his eyes and hurriedly shouted, "Wait! Time!" He looked straight into the Echizen's eyes, well, his cap really since he couldn't see the kid's shadowed eyes, and smirked. "That's enough. Let's stop here."

"What?-!" Everyone around the court shouted.

"Momoshiro! What are you saying?"

"Haha," the tall teen sheepishly laughed. Was it just him, or did the kid just glare at him? Well, harder at least. Shrugging it off, he said to the figure across from him, "I'll let you off with this, heh!"

He watched as the first-year still for a moment, before he took off to the side of the court where his stuff was. He didn't bother to change and just brusquely grabbed his things and walked out. The freshmen all gathered around him, in a festive mood, but it didn't appear as if the center of their attention was interested. He watched with interest at the brooding back and blank face of the audacious first-year who dared to play him with a handicap.

"Momo…" his fellow year-mates started. "You sure this is a good idea? I get that your ankle is injured, but letting them off with this is…the first-years will completely disregard the authority of us second-years."

"Look at them. They don't even know you're letting them off easy. They're leaving, thinking it's a draw."

"No…" The two turned back to look at Momoshiro. "He knew.

He knew from the beginning."

'I completely forgot what the lady counselor told me. To play a match against a sempai with the opposite hand, the brat must have been looking out for me.'

End Genius 003

A/N: I know many are waiting for some major deviations from the original plot, but I'm sorry to ask for more time as I establish the foundation for this fanfic first. Most of the changes I will be making center around Ryoma being a female and why she chooses to hide her gender. All other changes then follow. It will be subtle, at least at first, such as in this chapter, instead of Ryoma "looking after" Momoshiro like in the original series, Ryoma is actually "going after" Momoshiro. Momoshiro hasn't caught on to Ryoma's true feelings in the match.

Do please continue to give me your feedback however as I continue to post new chapters. I do read all reviews and consider them, so if it appears that what I am trying to achieve isn't working or receiving any response, I will take the advice given to me and make the necessary changes. Please give me a chance to work it out first however. Thank you.

Genius 003: Extra

"Hey there!" Tomoka ran up to the handsome silent stranger. "I'm Osakada Tomoka, a friend of Sakuno's!" Though said with a passionate fervor, a shy blush tinted across her cheeks and her hands were clasped modestly before her. Sakuno smiled timidly and walked up behind her outgoing friend, biting her lip slightly in nervousness, waiting to be acknowledged.

"Who…

…is Sakuno?"

Sakuno's face blanched with shock.

Later that night, Echizen residence

"Ryoma, how was the tennis club?"

The girl winced as she took off her chest bindings. It wasn't painful to say, since she didn't really have much in way of breasts just yet, but the material cut into her skin and so it stung. She glanced towards the door which her cousin left open in retrieving her clothes.

"Karupin," she admonished her fluffy cat. "You can't come in here."

Pouting, the small feline sat back on its hunches and waited by the door. Smiling, she turned back to rinse off. Touching her hair, she realized with a start who Sakuno was.

The girl with the ridiculous hair.

Mood darkening, she brought her hands forward from her short locks and looked at them with half-lidded eyes. Karupin gave a pitiful mewl.

"Made made dane."