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

[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.

[youweresaying]

"I think our reputation of being the best may be doing us some favors," Yanagi said, noncommittal. "People are interested in us. People who may become assets in the future."

His performance was on par with Akaya's the year before. He could keep a regular in a rally. And he'd been crushed. Time would tell if Echizen's loss was good enough to spur the kind of leaps Akaya made last year, if he had the same limitless potential hiding behind his professionally-trained polish.

Akaya might be the next opponent. It was a no-lose situation, as far as Yukimura's dream was concerned-- either outcome, the almost-guaranteed or the unlikely, could lead to something great. Something he'd have to acquaint Genichiro with.

"Figure out where he came from, will you? I want to know if he's an accident or not."

[volleygenius]

So, The Master wants more data? For better or worse, that at least means his interest is piqued. Marui grins and casually salutes.

"O-K!"

The excitement is over for now, the rest of the practice running according to Sanada's schedule. Echizen keeps his head down and his mouth shut, and it spares him any further attention or singling out. He doesn't look very happy through swings and the rest of the training exercises, but that's not really Marui's problem or concern. They weren't here to have a tea party.

Once practice ends, though...