Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Solitaire ❯ Solitaire 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Solitaire

It was only desperation that had driven them into a conspiratorial huddle outside the clubhouse. Joint captaincy or no joint captaincy, there was no way either of them was going to associate with the other any more than strictly necessary.

"He's missing easy shots," Kaidoh muttered, eyeing the locker room door nervously.

"Something has to be wrong," Momoshiro insisted. "He hasn't said a word to anyone all week!"

"Echizen doesn't talk as much rubbish as you," Kaidoh pointed out, but Momo was ignoring him.

"Maybe his stupid father did something… Maybe he has a crush!"

"Fss." That pretty much summed up Kaidoh's opinion of that theory. "He's too good to lose focus over something stupid."

"It is not stupid!" Momoshiro lowered his voice hastily, belatedly realising that he was on the verge of shouting. "What if his cat's sick or something?" It was a low blow, and he knew it; Kaidoh's eyes widened, and his cheekbones flushed as he looked hastily around. The rest of the club members had already been dismissed for the day, only a few first years remaining to sweep the courts.

"Go talk to him," Kaidoh ordered in an uncompromising tone.

"Hey! Why me?"

"Fss. Aren't you two supposed to be friends?" His co-captain was already turning to leave, towel slung over his shoulders. Momoshiro opened his mouth to argue some more, then shut it. The little second-year might be his friend, but he'd been looking scary this week. He eyed the open clubhouse door with trepidation.

"Echizen?" There was no response, so he poked his head inside. The second year was slumped on a bench in a tangle of ungainly limbs and scraped knees, gaze fixed on the tennis ball he was clutching like a lifeline. Momoshiro swallowed, then decided that nothing ventured, nothing gained. He'd almost welcome getting his ass kicked on the courts right now, anyway. Echizen screwing up was weirding him out.

"Oi, Echizen." He prodded the younger boy's foot with the toe of his shoe, staring down at him. "Snap out of it already, short stuff."

Not so much as a twitch. "Shit," Momoshiro muttered to himself, wandering over and propping himself against the wall. "You know you can talk to me if there's a problem, right?"

Still no answer. Momo glared. "Oi, brat, answer your illustrious captain!" Normally that would get an immediate snarky response pointing out that he was only the co-captain, but Ryoma remained stubbornly silent. Crap. Throwing his hands in the air, the older boy turned on his heel and stalked back out of the room, almost running over Kaidoh in the process.

"Oi, watch where you're going, Viper!" he protested automatically. Kaidoh curled his lip, narrowed his eyes… and didn't hiss at him. Instead he looked away, towards the fence.

"What now?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Momo scuffed dirt with one foot, thinking. He couldn't very well drag Ryoma out for fast food by main force, and the brat barely responded to anything but tennis. That was a thought… "Maybe… we should invite Rikkai for a practice game?"

Kaidoh stiffened. "No way." A moment's thought, and Momo found himself reluctantly agreeing. The thought of dealing with that obnoxious Kirihara was repugnant. But…

"He might need a more challenging opponent."

"Not until he stops spacing out and missing shots." Kaidoh's voice was definite.

"So what great ideas do you have, then?" Momo demanded indignantly, folding his arms over his chest. Kaidoh sneered at him, then glanced pointedly over his shoulder at the path leading to the high school division.

"Higher authority."

There was an outbreak of laughter behind him.

"I believe you owe me five hundred yen."

"Ha, Inui was wrong, nya!"

Tezuka ignored Fuji and Kikumaru, calmly zipping his racquet bag before standing and turning to face the interlopers.

"Momoshiro. Kaidoh." He arched an eyebrow; although they were sweating, both of them were pale-faced. There could only be a few possible reasons for them turning up together like this…

"Ah, Tezuka-buchou…" Momoshiro trailed off in confusion as Kikumaru doubled over laughing, clutching at Oishi's shoulder.

Tezuka repressed a sigh, hands automatically finding their way into his pockets. Adjusting to being a first-year again had been… difficult, even though the captain had wisely decided not to bar the former junior high team members from the ranking matches. "Is there a problem?"

"It's Echizen," Kaidoh blurted, earning himself a miffed glare from Momoshiro. He flicked one nervous glance to Inui, then seemed to think better of it and stared at the ground instead.

"Ochibi?"

"Ryoma-kun?"

"What's wrong with him?"

Everyone spoke at once, crowding in around the younger boys. Tezuka pushed his glasses up his nose, feeling the urge to sigh again.

"Ano…" Momoshiro scratched the back of his head, looking worried. "He won't talk to anybody, and he keeps missing stupidly easy shots. He tripped over his own feet today and skinned up his knees, even!"

There was an immediate flurry of noise. Kikumaru was bouncing in place, looking ready to go down the hill and shake the problem out of Ryoma, and Oishi was biting his lip.

"Maybe he's worried about something," the former vice-captain suggested.

"I tried asking, but he won't say anything!" Momoshiro turned back to Tezuka. "Buchou, you have to do something!"

"He respects you," Kaidoh chimed in quietly, looking vaguely ill at having to agree with Momoshiro. Not for the first time, Tezuka wondered what Ryuzaki-sensei had been thinking to make them co-captains. Granted that it set aside issues of favouritism and rank, but with the way they argued… He sighed, swinging his racquet bag onto his shoulder as Oishi, still looking worried, agreed with the juniors.

"Maybe you should go down and see if you can find out what's wrong, Tezuka." For that matter, he looked ready to bolt down the hill himself, if it weren't for Eiji's death grip on his arm.

"It is a good idea." Fuji's face was unreadable, but Tezuka could see his lips twitching. Fuji always knew too much. He suppressed the urge to command the lot of them to run laps, flicking his eyes to Inui, who was watching silently over the top of his notebook, pencil poised. A nod, and the data player turned to the others.

"Momoshiro, Kaidoh. I would like to see how your doubles game is progressing."

"Eh?!" Momo protested, staring bewilderedly from Inui to Kaidoh, who looked like he would have liked to hiss if he hadn't been too busy keeping his eyes fixed warily on his sempai.

"Hey! That's not fair, nya!" Kikumaru protested, bouncing on his toes and tugging at Oishi's arm. "We have a da – mmph!" Everyone's eyes widened as Oishi clapped a hasty hand over his partner's mouth, then seemed to realise what he'd done, wincing a little under everyone's stares. Inui was muttering about data again, and no one was looking his way. Tezuka decided it was time to make an exit.

He definitely missed the power to make people run laps, he thought wryly to himself as the sound of excited raised voices followed him down the path. Why was it that half his players seemed to gossip worse than girls?

The courts were almost deserted when he arrived, only a few unfamiliar first-years dropping their brooms to stare at him as he pushed open the clubhouse door. It only took a brief glance to confirm his suspicions, and his mouth tightened against amusement.

"Echizen, on your feet!"

Ryoma bolted upright so fast he almost tripped over his feet and had to steady himself against the bench, chin jerking up as he stared wide-eyed at Tezuka. "Buchou!"

Tezuka looked him over, paying particular attention to the half-moon nail marks on his palms and the scabbed-over grazes on his knees. "I see." Setting his racquet bag down on a bench without needing to look, he approached the younger player, looking down at him from a much shorter distance than he remembered. "I hear you've been having problems."

"Buchou," Ryoma muttered, looking down for a moment so that his eyes were shadowed by his cap. His hands balled into fists by his sides. "I can't play any more."

Tezuka merely lifted an eyebrow, repressing a smirk for the melodrama. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Ryoma looked up at him again and burst out, "I can't even make the easiest hits! I'm worse than Horio!"

That almost undid his composure. Tezuka allowed his lips to curl up for a brief moment, setting a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "Haven't you noticed how much you've grown in the past month?"

"Buchou?" Ryoma stared at him in shock, then dawning realisation, as the decreased difference in their heights finally began to sink in.

"You've hit a growth spurt, that's all," Tezuka told him quietly, removing his hand to push his glasses up. Ryoma swayed a little towards him before stiffening, posture rigid.

"So my reach…"

"Exactly. You'll get used to it," Tezuka assured him, permitting himself a brief smile of reassurance as Ryoma blinked up at him, an expression of astounded relief on his face. "It happens to us all."

"Even you, buchou?" There was a hint of Ryoma's trademark smirk in there now, which was something of a relief.

"Even me." He remembered going through the same thing in his first year, with all the annoyance of limbs that were suddenly too long and miscalculated shots, before he learned to adjust for his changing body. "You need to work on your hand-eye co-ordination and the basic swing drills for a while. You'll find your balance again soon enough."

"Really?" He was still young enough to need the reassurance, Tezuka noted. It wasn't a surprise to him; he was used to being the patient one.

"Really." He nodded, folding his arms as Ryoma grinned up at him.

"Then will you play a match with me?" He did smile then; he should have known that was coming. The delight in Ryoma's eyes was infectious, and something inside him was quietly, secretly pleased that he had put that there, had taken Ryoma beyond desire to win into the sheer love of the game.

"When you're ready." He inclined his head in a half-nod, stepping back as he turned to leave. "Come up to the high school courts. I'll be waiting."

"Thank you, buchou!" There was more in Ryoma's voice than anticipation of a game. Tezuka nodded without looking back, raising one hand in farewell. They'd meet again soon enough, he knew. Echizen Ryoma was a challenge in many ways, but Tezuka was nothing if not patient. He could wait.