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synergetic2024-02-17 05:24 pm
koshimae) wrote in synergetic2024-02-17 05:24 pm
Completely Rewriting the Plot of Tenipuri, Part I
So this was the school known as The Strongest.
It's not his father's school. Ryoma remembers bickering with that geezer about it after relocating. Reading that article in Pro Tennis Monthly about the junior high circuit and then the announcement he was going to Seishun Gakuen.
"Hmmm?" Ryoma sounded dubiously.
"What? You got a problem with that?"
He held up the magazine. "If they're the best tennis school, why is only one of them strong enough to beat Rikkai?"
His father stared at the page as though he'd never seen a magazine with words inside, which was probably correct.
"According to this article, Rikkai Dai Fuzoku Chūgakkō has won the Kanto region every year since before I was born. Seishun Gakuen is barely mentioned. I want to know what makes that school better."
"Listen, boy, winning record isn't everything that makes a good school-- though it certainly is nice!" He took a moment to laugh at his own joke. "But Seigaku is where your growth will become a rocket."
"Then at Rikkai, it should become even more than a rocket."
"Give it up. We're not even in the right prefecture for that school."
Ryoma scowled. "After moving from another continent to attend Seigaku, that excuse somehow seems weak."
"He has a point, dear," his mother (bless her) chimed in with a polite level of amusement. "Well? How do you know he'll grow more at Seigaku? He sounds quite motivated to see this Rikkai school instead. Maybe we can arrange a visit."
It looks normal enough at first sight. The grounds are clean and orderly. Students calmly file in through the north gate in the cinderblock wall encircling the perimeter. Twin buildings flank the front walk, connected on each floor by a breezeway. Ryoma notices a building with a curved roof in front to the right and a sunken fenced area with street lamps around it to the left.
Huh. That's unusual. He wonders what's down there. From where he stands, he doesn't have an angle in. After a moment's pause, he quietly steers off from the crowd towards the structure, drawn by a force he wouldn't be able to articulate in words.
Once he realizes what it is, it brings the smallest smile to his face. The tennis courts. No wonder this was where his feet led him.
He doesn't approach. It's enough to have found them, and to spend half a minute getting lost in watching their morning practice. They don't waste time, do they? No wonder they have the reputation they do.
"Are you serious? This club is run like an army. Ryoma, you're gonna be miserable here."
"I'm not like you..."
He can handle strict and intense. Bring it on. He has a goal to reach.
School is uneventful. Introductions and orientations, cubby assignments and first lessons. When the final bell rings, Ryoma trades out his schoolbooks for his tennis bag and walks to the courts.
"Okay, okay!" A cheerful redhead calls out. "Registering first years over here. Get in a line." Guess that means him. Him and about forty others, from the looks of it. He doesn't notice he's the only new student with a tennis bag.
It's not his father's school. Ryoma remembers bickering with that geezer about it after relocating. Reading that article in Pro Tennis Monthly about the junior high circuit and then the announcement he was going to Seishun Gakuen.
"Hmmm?" Ryoma sounded dubiously.
"What? You got a problem with that?"
He held up the magazine. "If they're the best tennis school, why is only one of them strong enough to beat Rikkai?"
His father stared at the page as though he'd never seen a magazine with words inside, which was probably correct.
"According to this article, Rikkai Dai Fuzoku Chūgakkō has won the Kanto region every year since before I was born. Seishun Gakuen is barely mentioned. I want to know what makes that school better."
"Listen, boy, winning record isn't everything that makes a good school-- though it certainly is nice!" He took a moment to laugh at his own joke. "But Seigaku is where your growth will become a rocket."
"Then at Rikkai, it should become even more than a rocket."
"Give it up. We're not even in the right prefecture for that school."
Ryoma scowled. "After moving from another continent to attend Seigaku, that excuse somehow seems weak."
"He has a point, dear," his mother (bless her) chimed in with a polite level of amusement. "Well? How do you know he'll grow more at Seigaku? He sounds quite motivated to see this Rikkai school instead. Maybe we can arrange a visit."
It looks normal enough at first sight. The grounds are clean and orderly. Students calmly file in through the north gate in the cinderblock wall encircling the perimeter. Twin buildings flank the front walk, connected on each floor by a breezeway. Ryoma notices a building with a curved roof in front to the right and a sunken fenced area with street lamps around it to the left.
Huh. That's unusual. He wonders what's down there. From where he stands, he doesn't have an angle in. After a moment's pause, he quietly steers off from the crowd towards the structure, drawn by a force he wouldn't be able to articulate in words.
Once he realizes what it is, it brings the smallest smile to his face. The tennis courts. No wonder this was where his feet led him.
He doesn't approach. It's enough to have found them, and to spend half a minute getting lost in watching their morning practice. They don't waste time, do they? No wonder they have the reputation they do.
"Are you serious? This club is run like an army. Ryoma, you're gonna be miserable here."
"I'm not like you..."
He can handle strict and intense. Bring it on. He has a goal to reach.
School is uneventful. Introductions and orientations, cubby assignments and first lessons. When the final bell rings, Ryoma trades out his schoolbooks for his tennis bag and walks to the courts.
"Okay, okay!" A cheerful redhead calls out. "Registering first years over here. Get in a line." Guess that means him. Him and about forty others, from the looks of it. He doesn't notice he's the only new student with a tennis bag.
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"Go hand out the registration forms so they can start filling them out before they reach the head of the line," he ordered.
Akaya scoffed, but not until Jackal-senpai's back was turned.
"I should be practicing," he muttered.
"And you think Bunta shouldn't?!"
"How can you hear so well?!" Akaya yelped, and quickly ran down the line, shoving papers at the first years along the way. Man, how scrawny were they? He wasn't that scrawny a year ago, no way. And nobody really stuck out the way he had. Nobody was really trying to stick out, and that was boring.
Only one guy even had a tennis bag, and a hat too, which was probably smart, given it would be hot soon. Akaya handed him his form, too.
"Hurry up and get everything filled out before you get to Marui-senpai at the head of the line!" he called, trying to give his voice the same force as Sanada-senpai's. "We don't have all day to waste on you!"
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It's about the only similarity from first impressions. Akaya had been loud, hilariously full of himself, and eager to impress. This one's quiet with a resting bitch face and doesn't even seem to be aware of those around him. He almost looks surprised when Akaya shoves the form at him. Bit of a space case, isn't he?
With Akaya helping with the forms, the line starts to move along. Marui collects them one by one, giving each new member a cheesy greeting and directing them towards the practice area. He takes a cursory glance at Cap Boy's for a name when he collects it. Echizen Ryoma, huh? Never heard of him.
"Whattaya think?" He asks Jackal (and Akaya, if he's paying attention) once the last of the freshmen is on their way down and out of earshot. "Looking forward to any of the new blood?"
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Lightning didn't strike that conveniently.
Akaya swatted at his hand and missed.
"I'm not impressed by anybody, only one of them has done any preparation and he's scrawny."
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"Well, that gives you one thing in common," Bunta says cheerily, leaving it unsaid which of the two he had in mind. "Let's close up here and join Sanada and the others, before Akaya has to run laps."
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His attention is solely on the front, waiting for one of the more senior members of the club to call the meeting to order. He wants to become stronger. Now.
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Seiichi worked and planned for this moment, and the moments upcoming, for so long. His dream was on the verge of accomplishment, and he was entirely out of control. Helpless in the face of it, and relying on all of them to keep up the momentum he started.
It was possible. Yet he couldn't help the feeling of unease. The truth was that they were weaker without Seiichi. Triangles were strong; forces hitting any one vertex would be evenly distributed down the sides and stabilized by the base. Take away the third side and what were you left with? Two non-functioning lines. Baseless. Shapeless. Would the structure hold?
It must, and Genichirou had to be the one to take the base. Yanagi had briefly considered seeking a third regular to more evenly distribute what he knew would be coming, but they'd all formed their own geometrical and abstract structures. They must not compromise anywhere else.
Jackal delivered the registration forms and Yanagi sighed at the weight of the stack. He calculated it was heavier than last year's by about 2%. There had been a 5% growth in his second year compared to his first, and he wondered. Had people lost faith in them with Yukimura's absence? Or was the repeat of the prior year's successes simply not as interesting this time? More data would be needed.
He flipped through the pages idly. Did their order correspond at all with where their owners had filed into the court? He doubted it. He knew he was desperate for factors to plug into his equations, because the unknown loomed.
He was desperate for data, and he looked out over the new blood. He doubted any of them would be vital components of the data set, but his senpai doubted him once, too, and he was unwilling to miss a chance, any chance at all. He saw someone set down a tennis bag, and stored the fact for later. He would find his registration form at some point. He wasn't as brash as Akaya, but he was as confident as Seiichi. Interesting.
Someone would be approaching him soon. He cleared his throat and preempted them.
"'--Are we ready to begin?' you were going to say? You tell me first."
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The meeting seems to come to order shortly after with a tall, broad-shouldered club member in a black ball cap moving to the front of the crowd and facing them with a stoic expression and arms folded across his chest.
"Welcome to Rikkai Dai Fuzoku Chuu's men's tennis club. I'm Sanada Genichirou, vice-captain and acting head of the team in our captain's absence. For the past two years, we've carried our strength all the way to the National Championships, securing consecutive undefeated seasons. Yukimura has tasked us with fulfilling the remainder of his legacy with a third straight year as the undisputed strongest."
After a moment's pause, the level tone in his voice vanishes as he booms, "Naturally, I won't stand for any slacking off in the pursuit of that legacy!" A good 80% of the freshmen around him straighten with a startled jolt and newfound apprehension. Personally, he's not fazed. No slacking off means getting stronger faster, which is all he cares about.
With either no awareness or no remorse for the fear he's just put into the hearts of his audience, Sanada continues at his previous volume, but with a lingering tightness to his words. "Those that wish to be part of the Rikkai tennis club should be prepared to pour blood, sweat, and tears into every practice. If you bring here every day the will to become the strongest tennis player you can be, you'll find the growth and the company of like minds that you seek. That's all. Regulars, warm up and begin practice! Returning club members, stay in this area for strength training. First years will rotate ball duty and clean-up for the regulars with swing practice and body training. For today, those in the back row will clean up. Those in the next row up will fetch balls. The rest of you, join the regulars with 20 laps around the courts!"
Echizen is content enough to be among those exercising instead of fetching balls, as oblivious as Sanada himself to the severity of a 20 laps assignment for a group of predominantly beginners. He wordlessly walks to the perimeter and starts jogging, working up to a run after a couple of warm up laps.
It's not hard to pick out the regulars from the group, and he's just proud enough to be determined not to be outpaced by any of them, if only to prove it to himself. He maintains pace with them for the duration.
Honestly, he expected it to be harder. But then, those weights the regulars are wearing look pretty heavy...
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So much the better.
When he saw the one, though... The one who'd carefully stowed his own bag. The confident one. He wasn't going to stoop to slowing down so he'd be passed by and be able to watch him, but he was disappointed not to overhear anything except the boy's labored but practiced breathing.
Has anyone else noticed him...? Who would notice a...
"Marui. Help me warm up," mostly because Yanagi wanted to pick his brain. If anyone was going to notice a confident kid, it was the one who'd noticed Akaya first.
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"Got it," he says in acknowledgment as he walks over with a fresh piece of gum in his mouth. He moves behind Yanagi to spot his back and help push for his leg stretches.
"Scoping the new kids?"
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Not wanting to introduce any biasing variables, he goes with an open question.
"Who should I be scoping? We've been lucky with first years in the recent past," he said, without even a pretense of modesty.
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"Well, it's early still. But if I had to bet, there was only one kid that came to sign-ups with his own tennis bag last year, too."
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Encouraging, but how encouraged should he really be? Under no circumstances did he expect any of the regulars to be replaced, and under even fewer did he want them to be. They knew the stakes, the terrain, the opponents. If he was as good as any of them, he would have to wait at the end of the line, and Yanagi was eager to see his peers who'd been competing for regular positions with his seniors finally reach the head of the line and get their due.
But having been that talent (or part of that talent) that changed the game in his own past...
On the other hand, there seemed to be only one of him. Akaya had earned his place with his hard work and harder head, but three stars in close proximity like he, Seiichi, and Genichirou had been... their gravitational pull reordered the local cosmos. They didn't reach the head of the line so much as they created their own. Akaya hadn't had the backup or (frankly) the tactical skill to pull off a similar upset.
"Have you formed any other specific opinions of him yet?"
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"He wants to play," Marui said. That's why you bring your own gear from Day 1: eagerness to use it. And the kid had a quiet cockiness and composure to him, smart enough to at least not immediately challenge the strongest players in the club. Maybe he wanted to observe them in action first. Well, Marui would be a lying liar if he said the feeling wasn't mutual.
"Why don't we let him?"
The remainder of the sentence-- see how tall the ceiling is.-- went unsaid.
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"I hate to interrupt Genichirou's attempts to establish a routine," he said slowly, and only partially lying. "And I don't want any of the other first years to get entitled and start thinking that anything but a sterling performance is going to get them the time of day. He should show something besides confidence before we let him show off. His confidence might be misplaced."
But Yanagi did remember not being taken seriously by anyone except Seiichi. And he thought he knew what Seiichi would do. Seiichi liked boldness as much as any of them did, and he appreciated a sense of occasion, which had been Akaya's great flaw.
"Are you volunteering?"
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"Fine by me. Challenge accepted! -- by Jackal."
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"'Why me?'" he quoted, right along with him. Jackal lifted his eyebrows, because Yanagi was someone he could actually expect an answer from. Yanagi waved him off.
"Marui's the one I need for this task," he decided. "Jackal playing with a first year will excite enough comment that it's likely to impact the data when he realizes how unusual it is. Marui is the sort of person that no one will really take notice if he just decides to play with someone new. But Jackal, you'll be ready when it comes time to test him in doubles."
Jackal accepted that, and went back to his conversation.
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"I don't mind. Well, why don't we start a little game up. I'll give these first years a genius-like welcome."
And if this Echizen kiddo was worth singling out of that for a solo match, it wouldn't take long for that to become apparent.
"Cover me with Sanada."
Racket propped behind his neck, Marui turned and walked for the first years with a big green bubble at his mouth. Most of them were still catching their breath from the run. Perfect.
"Good news, we're gonna do something fun now. Half on this side of the court, half on the other. Spread out evenly and rally the ball. If you lose the point, you're out. Last one left on the court gets the prize."
"What's... the prize?" One asks uncertainly between huffs. Marui grins.
"That's a surprise. Of course, if you'd rather run more laps--"
"I'll play!!"
"That's what I thought," he says cheerily. "Let's go!"
Within a couple of minutes, the group has split in half and begun a team tennis match. It's a good way to check all their skill levels at once. Who can aim, who knows how to serve, who has an eye for finding openings.
The net and the court boundary quickly thin out half of them. Openings in formation take out a few more on each side, until there are two or three left on each side. Echizen is one of them. Hasn't done anything that particularly stands out, though. He has good form.
Until he just sort of takes over that half of the court. Every ball becomes his ball. Okay, not a team player. That's unfortunate.
Then again, he does take out the last of the opponents' side quickly this way. A quick reshuffle to put the other two kids on the opponent side, and Echizen hits them both out with a line drive down the middle.
"Congratulations~" Marui drawls merrily as he strolls onto the court and assumes the place of the eliminated first years, the ghost of Yukimura's sadism glimmering in his eyes. "Echizen, wasn't it? I'm Marui Bunta, 3rd year regular. Come at me with all you have. I'll show you my genius-like tennis."
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"You collected his form, didn't you read it?" Jackal asked. The other kid seemed to recognize that Akaya got priority by being a regular, and wasn't fussed. "Next year, you might need to know."
Akaya hardly ever thought about 'next year,' because this year was Yukimura-buchou's third year to be undefeated and anything past that one thought was terrifying. Yukimura was and would be undefeated. The thought had to stop there.
"There's nothing on a form that could explain Marui-senpai just blowing off us to pay attention to some random first year," Akaya argued.
"Maybe he thinks he's interesting," Jackal said. He looked at Akaya critically; Akaya clearly hadn't been waiting for this year's potential killer first year. Or even considered the possibility. It made him want to smile, but he didn't want Akaya to start thinking his self-centeredness was cute or anything. Jackal didn't need to be bailing him out of the problems that would get him into.
"How can you be interested in someone you've never even heard of?" Akaya demanded, and Jackal debated telling him to fetch some balls for his lack of self-awareness. Nobody's ever heard of you, either, but Bunta immediately latched on to you. "Nobody's been standing out at that level, okay? I saw the kids who were scouting us out and none of them looked like they were worth paying any attention to. Anyway, isn't it my job to break in the new meat?"
"No," Jackal said, as authoritatively as he could. "Shut up and watch the match if you want to know what's going on."
Jackal was planning to. If Bunta was interested in someone, well, that was Bunta-- he'd found him one day and decided they were friends, too. But if Yanagi was following up on it...
"Marui-senpai!" Akaya hollered. "Leave some of 'em for us to beat too!"
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Setting that aside, something about this set-up is off. The vice-captain hadn't been unclear about their schedules. It hadn't included this. They're after something. Well, whatever. He's not going to complain about a chance to play a real match.
"Okay," he says, and approaches the net with the racket, holding it vertical against the ground. "Which?"
"You serving first is fine," the upperclassman says in answer. It rubs him a little wrong. He's not being looked at as an equal, is he? Well, so much the better in that case. That'll make it all the more satisfying to prove his answer a mistake.
Without protesting, he places himself at the service line. His senpai is already in position to receive.
"Are we self-judging?"
"Yeah. You good with that?"
"...I don't care." Looking to the ball, he starts a series of warm up bounces against the ground with his left hand. Marui hasn't removed his weights. He needs a strong opening move to get the guy's attention that he won't let this be such an easy match. It's also a good idea not to lay all his cards out on the table yet either. Twist serve lets him do both.
Tossing the ball, he jumps as he swings and serves the ball straight to Marui's face. The redhead is agile enough to get his head out of the way, but too startled to return it. Good.
"15-Love."
He pulls another ball.
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Definitely bold. Unlike Akaya, however, Yanagi can't yet predict his endgame. He isn't fawning to lull the upperclassman into a false sense of security like Akaya did. He's not giving much way at all. Stoicism is his own preferred state, to limit the data he gives out, but can a first year who isn't this Yanagi Renji or someone taught by him be that self aware?
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It doesn't go nearly as well this time. With barely enough time for him to register what's happened, Marui has shifted and sent the ball flying past him in a return ace.
"15-All."
Rikkai earns their rep, it seems. After he recovers from the shock of how easily Marui returned that serve, Echizen feels a small thrill inside. This was definitely the right school to come to.
Outwardly unfazed, Echizen adjusts his cap and tries again, more watchful this time for the return serve.
It doesn't seem to help. The return leaves a small skid mark on the court and rattles the fence behind him.
"Akaya's knuckle serve is worse."
That excitement turns into a kernel of aggravation. Bastard...
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"Knock it off," Jackal said, and was promptly ignored.
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The third return of his twist serve he catches and rallies back. Marui runs forward, volleying the ball as he places himself close to the net. Serve and volley? Well in that case, Echizen lobs the ball with extra spin for speed, slicing it high through the air to the back corner. That catches Marui off-guard, but he doesn't seem invested enough in the point to make a mad dash to save it, either.
"30-All."
It could be to save stamina. He's got to think about that with all of those training weights. But the fact he's wearing them in the first place is an insult. It's made worse by the fact even after accounting for that, the redhead doesn't seem to really be taking him seriously as an opponent. Not if he's willing to let a point go that easily.
Memories of his dad, and of Ryoga, bubble up and agitate his mood. It's part of a broader pattern, isn't it? Not being looked at as an equal worth fighting in earnest.
The points see-saw through the rest of the first game until Marui seals it with a smash to the opposite corner, and he's just not quite fast enough to catch it. They change court, and Echizen prepares to receive Marui's serve.
Service ace. It's fast...!
The second serve blows past him too, but he lets it. He's adjusting his eyes, studying the trajectory.
"What's wrong? Don't tell me you can't return that."
"When did I say I couldn't?"
Marui bounces the ball a couple of times for his third serve, until Echizen pipes up with a "Hey." Marui looks at him.
"Shouldn't you take those weights off?"
The upperclassman looks amused behind the gum bubble he blows in response.
"Try and make me."
Jerk...
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Yanagi cuffed Akaya on the back of the neck before he could say anything else.
"Quit it," he said, too calm to be snappish, but cutting Akaya off instead of saying something more explanatory like You're distracting me or I set this up and I want to see it through.
Too busy collecting data (swing speed, foot speed, attitude, etc), Yanagi missed the baleful look Akaya shot him.
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Marui answers with a soft lob this time to buy himself the time to get to the net. Sorry kid, it was a good idea...!
--And there goes another high-spin lob back to the corner, well over his head. Point to Echizen.
"Play seriously!" He protests.
"You're one to talk," a low, gravelly voice cut in from the sidelines. Marui immediately recognizes it as Niou's. Echizen shoots a grumpy stare at the dark amusement focused on him. For a moment, there's a real tension in the air coming from him.
"I know your secret," is all Niou adds, then turns and goes back to his own practicing. Well, well, well. Sounds like Echizen is holding back a few tricks of his own. Honestly, Marui would have been disappointed if he weren't.
"That's a good spirit," Marui grants him. Yukimura would approve; Echizen is proud. He cares about proving his strength, and he has good skill and tennis strategy. He believes in playing hard and playing to win. Yanagi doesn't seem pleased about Akaya's encouragement, but Marui likes his thinking.
"All right. We're not allowed to take the weights off, but if you want a serious match, I'll deliver. Don't cry when you lose."
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A trick, instantly, is what comes to mind, and for a moment, Yanagi is disappointed. They don't need another trickster, even if Niou's
(and Yagyuu's)ability to disrupt a match or punch above their weight class against an unsuspecting opponent was usefuland entertaining.But Niou would notice a deception more quickly than Yanagi, if only because he would consider them first. Yanagi won on facts, what was provably and demonstrably true; Niou won on what he could make others believe to be true.
Damned if he was going to end up asking Niou what happened. All of his attention was on the first year now.
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It was simple luck, really. A matter of being in the right place at the right time. Sometimes that was the difference in a match, in life itself. Who's lucky?
Niou is lucky, and it's as much a honed skill as it is a blessing of chance. He's lucky because he's observant and clever enough to tilt odds in his favor. He's lucky because he was born with qualities that give him an edge in tennis.
The first year is lucky, too. That's the impression Niou has of him so far. He only needed one game with Marui to figure out the three things relevant to an effective strategy against him: he's a net player, he's short, and he's under a stamina handicap. It's a good approach for the limited information he has.
Yanagi will see for himself what Niou means soon enough. In the meanwhile, Niou will quietly enjoy the awareness that Yanagi is currently losing his mind with pique.
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"Who would?" Echizen grumped incredulously.
All eyes are on him after the other player's accusation of secretiveness. He wasn't completely wrong, but he wasn't completely right, either. Echizen is just bratty enough to want the record set straight then and now. Waiting validates it as a secret.
With a nonchalant shrug, he passes his racket to his left hand.
"It's not really a secret; I don't remember saying I was right-handed. But I want the serve to go to your face."
"I see," Marui said, still grinning with way too much amusement for Echizen's liking.
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(He scans the crowd briefly for Genichiro. Is he properly distracted? At what point should number-three bring in number-two?)
But immediately, he starts cataloguing this revelation. If nothing else, this first year might be an interesting practice dummy. An extra left-handed opponent to scrimmage with would not be wasted.
That's the bare minimum. But he also thinks this first year is extraordinarily practiced in his sport. Who goes to all the trouble to not only get good in a sport, but to do it with the non-dominant hand? There's a goal to be reached, and a dedication to do it. There's a level of long-term strategy beyond even what he's displaying just working against Marui-- he might not be keeping a secret, but he is holding back information that would change the formulation of strategies against him.
Yanagi has never thought about what would happen to the tennis club after nationals this year-- Yukimura's dream was three years undefeated, after all. Some whispers and musings about Akaya's future cross his mind sometimes, about how great he might be if he learns what he needs to learn, but Akaya is Akaya, and it's normal to think about a friend's potential that way.
But this first year could last beyond Akaya, of course. They'd walked into a proud legacy three years ago and they'd brought it higher, but he'd never seriously considered it might outlast Yukimura's influence on the club...
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This is the mentality that he keeps for the duration of the match. Every point the redhead scores against him is a piece of knowledge he tucks away for a counterstrategy. Marui has covered himself against the lobs and deep shots to the baseline by assuming a position just behind the service line, further back from typical serve and volley but close enough to minimize the amount of running he needs to do to rescue those corner shots. Far enough back to catch the lobs.
None of this is a concern. He just needs to find the angle--
Marui's return volley smacks the net, and for a split second, Echizen feels a surge of satisfaction that ices over in shock the next as the ball rolls along the top of the net and falls to his side. The redhead looks way too pleased with himself behind a big green bubble of gum.
"What do you think? Isn't it genius?"
What did he just watch.
Marui scores another point off him with a bunt off the iron pole shortly thereafter. Right, his opponent attacks with balls that need pinpoint precision, huh? That means he needs to hit in a way that throws that precision off.
The games stack up against him. 2-0. 3-0. Marui is hitting everywhere he can't reach. He's not that much taller, that should be a returnable favor! Echizen quickens his reaction time with the split step. It slows the bleeding. He begins aiming for cord balls. It costs him another game perfecting the aim just enough to hit the net but still cross it, but it's enough to know he's sealed those special volleys. The ball has too much vibration in it after hitting the net for an attack requiring that level of technique.
Marui seems to understand as much without testing it, which is a little disappointing. Echizen would have enjoyed watching it fail. Well, whatever. Now for the comeback.
5-0. Marui is planted in his central position. Echizen baits him to the front with a short-dropping cord ball. Marui returns it with a drop volley. Echizen is ready for it, swinging the racket up to put a high spin on the ball as he scoops the return. It arcs swiftly over Marui's head towards the advantage court-- and as he's halfway to that side's border for the save, it veers sharply to the deuce court, stealing the point.
Echizen extends his racket out in challenge with a preemptive victor's smile.
"Mada mada dane."
Marui looks as entertained as ever, but there's a newfound gleam in his eyes as he repositions himself. "Not bad," he grants.
By mixing up the cord balls and the whip shots, the points see-saw again, 15-All. 30-15. 30-All. 40-30. Echizen returns serve and cord balls. Marui sends it to the back corner. With his split step, Echizen makes it to the ball and whips the ball high into the air.
Marui is in the air with it as it crosses the net, higher than he's jumped at any point in the match so far and grinning like a wolf in a shepherdless field as he prepares to smash.
"Special attack: Time difference hell."
Echizen sees the ball's trajectory from the swing and runs forward, desperate to keep it in play. But the ball does not follow, because the swing never connects.
In an acrobatic trick that defies all of the redhead's movements to date, the racket's swing blows past the ball and makes a full circle as Marui turns half-upside down, smashing instead with the back side of the racket to the opposite side. The ball thunders against the court before shooting out of the court's bounds.
Something in Echizen's stomach hurts. The match was over. 6-0. Not a single game.
Not a single training weight removed.
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Making sure Sanada wasn't around to overhear, he asked, "Did you have fun?"
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He's got some reflecting to do, too, because it's more than a hatred of losing. This match was a splash of cold water to his ideas about the strength of other players his own age. That was what it meant to be a regular at Rikkai, huh.
He watches Marui turn to the other player and answer with a smile, "What an interesting first-year." Echizen isn't sure what to really make of that, and he doesn't really care enough to try. What he does care about... What he does want...
"Senpai," he calls in a bid for attention. When Marui looks over his shoulder at him, he approaches, hesitates, and pushes down his ego just enough to bow his head, eyes hidden under the brim of his cap.
"Thank you for the match. Please... play me again sometime."
He wants to become stronger. Much, much stronger.
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Yanagi makes his way toward Marui.
"No doubt of the outcome," he said brusquely. It was a good thing that their year put on a better performance for Echizen than last year's senpai had for Akaya. "But it looked like he was at least an interesting opponent?"
He hadn't rolled over and begged for mercy when his loss became apparent. It made Yanagi want to take him on himself-- see how he fared against the wall of the Big Three.
But he discarded the whim for now. If he couldn't beat Marui, Yanagi didn't know what data could be uncovered by losing to him just yet. Marui was skilled enough in the cerebral aspects of tennis for Yanagi to conclude that anyone who could give him a reasonable game was, too.
"Would you want to play him again?"
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Echizen looks pissy about being laughed at in response to his earnest request, but Marui can't really help it if he finds him funny.
"Sure thing," he says in response, both to Yanagi and to Echizen, his eyes still alight with amusement and enjoyment of the crushing defeat he'd just doled out. "Get stronger and come try again. I'll be waiting."
Kid looks like it's taking all he has to not say something he regrets. He manages a terse "Thanks," and rejoins the first-year training exercises without prompt.
"Well, that's that," Marui says, once Echizen is out of earshot, and looks to Yanagi. "What do you think?" It was a good match if you asked Marui, if horribly one-sided. Most matches with that final score were dull as hell. Echizen was one surprise after another from the first serve. That had to count for something.