If he were self-aware enough, Echizen might recognize that his experiences with tennis outside family matches were that of a big fish in a small pond. Four straight wins as the American champion for his age bracket and regular victories against players two and three years his senior was great for confidence and terrible for perspective. When he made the push to attend Rikkai, he fully expected strong players, but nothing that could come close to the wall that was his father, the only wall he'd never been able to tear down (Ryoga never played him seriously, he didn't count).
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.
no subject
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.