Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ The Games We Play ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

 

Chapter Two

 

 

“GAME AND MATCH. KUNIMITSU TEZUKA - SIX GAMES TO ONE.”

 

The spectators exploded into applause. Tezuka took a deep breath and wiped his brow. It had been a good game. He allowed himself a moment to absorb the victory into his mental playbook, into the core of his being as a tennis player.

 

Tezuka wouldn't drop a single game the next time he faced this Frenchman.

 

After the obligatory handshake, Tezuka's gaze turned upward toward the box at center court, almost against his own will. At the same time it seemed the only place, the only person, to look at in the entire arena. He saw Kevin first. The blond jumped up and down, both arms in the air. Then just as quickly they came down around Echizen's body, pinning his arms and jolting him back and forth as well. Amazingly Echizen kept his balance without even taking his hands out of the pockets of his shorts. He even appeared to lean into Kevin's chaotic movements.

 

Tezuka ignored the confusion that clouded his mind. He just needed to speak with Echizen properly. Then Echizen could explain his companion's behavior as well as his apathy towards it.

 

Suddenly Echizen's chin lifted and exposed his eyes from beneath his cap, and all speculation about Kevin Smith fled Tezuka's mind. Echizen didn't show any signs of pride or excitement after watching the match. His expression revealed only frustration, his desire to face Tezuka himself still unfulfilled. The depth and purity of his passion scorched Tezuka's resolve. Despite his own past advice, his desire to battle with Echizen quantified, and he let the fact be known as he returned Echizen's needlepoint gaze.

 

Echizen's lips curved in agreement, but his eyes remained fixed and fierce.

As they should be…

 

Tezuka finally walked back to his bench and packed up his equipment, but before he could go any further, reporters swarmed him. Cameras blocked everything else from his periphery. He sighed but showed no other external sign of the impatience he felt. He was an unknown, and he'd just won his first game against a seated player. Deferring to the whim of the press was expected.

 

He answered each question thoughtfully, honestly, and in turn. His manager looked as ecstatic as a German man could when he appeared next to Tezuka fifteen minutes later. At that point reporters backed up and prospective sponsors moved in, numerous hands reaching out to greet him and toss out business cards and marketing ideas to his manager.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, Tezuka cleared his throat and sent his manager a questioning look. The man flashed a thumbs-up, so Tezuka excused himself and headed for the locker room. He showered and changed quickly, wanting to waste no more of the three hour break allowed before afternoon matches began. More than likely he would find Echizen in the members-only restaurant on the upper deck with the rest of the players on the day's schedule.

 

Tezuka finished dressing, ran one hand through his damp hair, and grabbed his bag in the free hand. He slung it over his shoulder and reemerged into the hallway. Hopefully finding Echizen wouldn't take too long.

 

“Buchou.”

 

Tezuka halted in mid-step. The voice behind him sounded deeper than he remembered, even though he'd seen a live interview just a few months ago. But there was no mistake. That voice did indeed belong to Echizen.

 

Tezuka turned as a more familiar whisper-soft chuckle followed. “Sorry, I know I shouldn't call you `Buchou' anymore. We are both pros, now.”

 

The older man stiffened for a fraction of a second Echizen's stress on the word “now” sounded more like `finally' to Tezuka. It seemed Seigaku's former superstar freshman had not outgrown his impatient streak.

 

“We are,” Tezuka agreed, “so you will forgive me if I don't address you as `Senpai' in return.”

 

Echizen stood with his hands in his pockets and his legs crossed; his back rested flush against the wall. He lifted his chin off his chest until his head rested against the wall as well. Then Echizen rolled his head until his gaze settled on Tezuka directly. “Damn, and I was looking forward to that too.”

 

“As you said, we are both professionals.”

 

Echizen's face split into a boyish smile. “So the only question left is whether or not we're equals.” Despite the smile, Echizen's eyes narrowed. “What do you think, Bu- I mean, Tezuka?”

 

Tezuka ignored the strange tingle on the back of his neck instigated by the sound of his name rather than his former title rolling off Echizen's lips. Instead he took the opportunity to thoroughly reacquaint himself with the sight and sense of an adult Echizen.

The younger man's confidence covered him inside and out, stoking Tezuka's fighting spirit even more.

 

“We won't know until we play,” Tezuka said.

 

Echizen paused, then pushed himself off the wall. “Sounds good. Let's play now.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Let's have a match. Right now.” Echizen walked forward and jerked his head to the side. “The practice court won't be in use for at least another hour.”

 

Tezuka hesitated. “You have an official match this afternoon, don't you, Echizen?”

 

Echizen sighed. “This isn't the tennis club. We can do whatever we want during our breaks.” Tezuka said nothing. “Fine,” Echizen conceded. “Then come and help me warm up.”

 

Frustration began to replace his previous curiosity. “Echizen…”

 

“This isn't Japan. You know, “When in Rome...” and so on?” He shook his head and returned Tezuka's blank gaze. “Calling me Ryoma is fine.”

 

Tezuka prepared to scold his former kouhai for losing his manners during his career as well. “I fail to see why it makes a difference.”

 

“Whatever,” Echizen said, although his tone betrayed annoyance. “If you don't think you can beat me here, go ahead and stick with the formalities. It's all the same to me. Tezuka.”

 

The challenge stung more than Tezuka let on, but he refused to be provoked. “I look forward to our official match.”

 

Perhaps trying to discuss anything with Echizen was an unreasonable expectation. It seemed the young man's attitude had degraded since his adolescence.

 

Just as Tezuka was about to walk away, Echizen softly said, “You know, you never change.” He took a deep breath and held it momentarily. “I'm glad you're here, Buchou. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever come.”

 

Taken aback, Tezuka refrained from speaking for the moment. Disappointment gave way to confusion.

 

Echizen snickered. “I actually came down here to see if you wanted to grab some lunch.” Tezuka scowled skeptically but remained silent. “See?” Echizen pulled both hands out of his pockets and motioned around him. “I don't even have my racket. Besides, I'm hungry.”

 

Tezuka realized Echizen was right; his bag was nowhere in sight. “All right,” he finally agreed. Only then did Tezuka notice the tension in Echizen's body as the younger man visibly relaxed.

 

“You can leave your stuff in there,” Echizen said, pointing to the locker room.

 

“Aren't we going upstairs?”

 

“I'd rather not.” Echizen scowled. “Between the reporters and VIPs, you can't sit for five minutes without getting interrupted.”

 

Tezuka wondered if that was true, or if it was only true in Echizen's case. He suspected the latter but kept it to himself. “Anywhere is fine. We have quite a bit of catching up to do.”

 

Echizen grinned. “True, but we're not going to really know each other again until we play. Don't you agree, Buchou?”

 

Tezuka schooled his features and offered nothing but a nod. Indeed.