Completely Rewriting the Plot of Tenipuri, Part I

[koshimae]

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.

Comments

[senselessness]

Taking Marui's request to cover him with Sanada to heart, Yanagi has placed himself strategically between the vice-captain and the court chosen for this experiment. Already, he's intrigued. Was this Echizen someone who'd come to them deliberately seeking to become undefeated, or had he just decided to join the tennis club?

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?

[koshimae]

If his first serve has garnered anyone's attention save his opponent's, Echizen isn't aware of it. All of his focus is on what's inside the singles court boundary. He tosses the ball and serves another twist.

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...

[senselessness]

"Ha! See, that's what's coming next for you!" Akaya yelled, buoyed by Marui's praise. "If you even survive that long! This is King Rikkai's third straight year to go undefeated, and that means you!"

"Knock it off," Jackal said, and was promptly ignored.

[koshimae]

He's focused, but he's not deaf. Still, Echizen decides to ignore the jeering from the sideline. The guy doesn't seem to realize they're part of the same school.

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...

[senselessness]

"Marui-san, if he wants it, maybe you should show him what you can really do!"

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.

[volleygenius]

The kiddo looks annoyed. Marui finds it cute. He serves again, pleased to see this one get returned, and with more power than Echizen had been showing so far. It's a clean, smart shot, too, perfectly aimed to the back corner again. This one he saves—only to find Echizen returning to the other back corner. It's a low, deep shot that makes him run the maximum distance to save, and doesn't give him the chance to go to the net. He's figured out his strategy nice and quick there, hasn't he? Smart. He really does intend to try and make him.

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."

[youweresaying]

Yanagi's eyes flash to Niou. What has he seen that the Master missed? He would figure it out by the end of the match, certainly... but what would Niou be able to see that Yanagi couldn't?

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 useful and 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.

[courtstrouble]

Is Niou aware that he just ruffled Yanagi's feathers with a data spoiler? Probability 100%. Is he giving it away with any further attention to him? Not one bit.

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.

[koshimae]

"Don't cry when you lose."

"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.

[senselessness]

Well, that's that problem solved, and no way for him to decide that he would have figured it out as easily as Niou. To Yanagi's slight amusement, he can focus on what's truly important.

(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...

[koshimae]

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.

Not a single training weight removed.

[senselessness]

Jackal gives the new kid a commiserating punch in the shoulder on his way to catch up with Bunta. The expected result, of course, but he fought that match like someone who'd played against Bunta before. He'd improved with every game, and that deserves some acknowledgement. He wasn't as shellshocked as Akaya had been, but Jackal still had eyes on him even as he extended to Bunta the same punch in the shoulder.

Making sure Sanada wasn't around to overhear, he asked, "Did you have fun?"

[koshimae]

The friendly punch jars him out of getting absorbed in his thoughts too much. That's probably a good thing. He thinks he understands the spirit behind it, something he'll appreciate later after he's done sulking.

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.

[youweresaying]

Jackal nods at Echizen-- not the sore loser Akaya was, not playing hard to get, and capable of seeing that someone beating you the way Bunta did is something to aim for, not cry over. And anyone who pays Bunta the respect he's earned can earn Jackal's, too.

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?"

[volleygenius]

There's a moment of silence from Marui after the first-year's appeal where he's just processing the difference everyone else is noticing between him and Akaya at the beginning of last year. And he busts out laughing. What's with this politeness?! And alongside such a cheeky request! Oh, he likes this kid. What a hoot.

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.