Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ The Games We Play ❯ Chapter Seven ( Chapter 7 )

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

“One day, Tezuka, when you believe you've accomplished your dream and that you have everything you wanted… that's when you'll realize you really have nothing at all.”

 

Tezuka rebelled against the intruding memory of Fuji's parting words in his mind. He continued to stare at the now empty tennis court below. Despite the warm breeze caressing his face, he felt unusually cold beneath his skin.

 

Kevin Smith had kissed Echizen. And Echizen had visibly, willing, kissed Kevin Smith back. Even though the couple had departed several minutes earlier, the image of the pair entangled together still burned in his mind.

 

It answered the questions about their relationship; Tezuka berated himself for not seeing it from the beginning. The two had acted so familiar with one another. Add in the fact that the two shared a bit of history themselves from before either of them entered the top professional circuit, and the conclusion should have been obvious.

 

He supposed on some level it had been obvious. Despite that, he had assumed they were friends. He had not realized that Echizen and Kevin Smith were…well, quite that close.

 

It made sense though. They were about the same age, shared the same profession and displayed similar play styles. Surely few others challenged Echizen like his American counterpart. Echizen had looked content, even happy, while he was playing against Kevin Smith. Their game had been spectacular, even Tezuka had to admit that, albeit grudgingly. He could count the number of times on one hand that he'd seen such flawless play from his former teammate. And Kevin Smith had proven he could give as good as he got, pushing Echizen into a tie game.

 

Could he compete with that? Would he be able to go beyond the level of play he'd witnessed tonight? Could he ignite the same determination, the same passion, within Echizen that Kevin Smith had? And would he be satisfied with only matching that, or would he feel unfulfilled until he surpassed the American player, until he himself became the only person who drew Echizen's golden gaze once again?

 

Tezuka shook himself out of the train of thought. He would be unable to do anything if he lost his match tomorrow. And that meant he needed to put the evening's events behind him and, finally, get some much needed rest. Surely things would make more sense then…

 

Tezuka released the balcony railing and hissed between his teeth. Turning his stinging palms upward, he realized the metal had dug into his flesh, leaving twin grooves in each.

Cursing himself for such carelessness, Tezuka curled his fingers over and over until he felt satisfied he hadn't injured himself. His hands were stiff and hurt like hell, but the pain would subside soon enough.

 

Still, why did he not realize it sooner? How long had he been gripping that bar, and why had he held it so tightly anyway?

 

If his senses were that dulled, then he was more exhausted than he'd thought.

 

He turned on his heel and reentered his room, sliding the door closed behind him. He left the curtain as it was, striding to the bed, depositing his glasses back on the bedside table on his way. He lay down, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

 

Tezuka would not allow for any weakness in his next game. He didn't have the luxury. Surely Echizen would do the same. He suspected that was true of Kevin Smith as well.

 

No, Tezuka would not allow Kevin Smith to rise above him. Again. Ever. Tezuka would make sure Echizen's eyes focused most keenly upon him from now on.

 

As he began to fall asleep, Tezuka called the memory of the gaze he longed to see again to mind, the brilliant challenge he remembered so vividly that came from the twelve year old tennis player when faced from the opposing side of a tennis court.

 

His mind, however, denied his request.

 

Although his breath hitched and his heart began to race, he had no choice but to succumb to his body's demand for rest. Caught between deep sleep and consciousness, he saw something very different from what he'd expected.

 

Echizen did indeed visit his dream, but the man was twenty rather than twelve. Still dressed in the same clothes he'd worn to dinner, the challenge directed from the dream-Echizen's eyes were alight with more passion than Tezuka had ever seen before, and it had nothing to do with tennis.

 

Several minutes later, still trapped in sleep, Tezuka gasped Echizen's name to the empty room.

 

 

Tezuka's face and his dismissal crept into Ryoma's thoughts once again. He shut it out immediately.

 

For a little while, Ryoma just wanted to forget.

 

To do that, Ryoma immersed himself even deeper into every sensation - limbs shaking yet still twined tightly around his body; the scents freshly shampooed hair and soap being overcome by newly sweat-slicked skin; demanding lips and a hint of mint toothpaste.

 

Kevin's head jerked to the side, and the blond arched beneath him. Nails dug into Ryoma's back. The sudden infusion of pain into pleasure helped. Ryoma plunged even faster, deeper into the present, desperately chasing his own state of immediate euphoria.

 

His mind, thankfully, went totally blank as he finally reached his desired absolution. He was only vaguely aware of Kevin's voice as the blond cried out and went limp, save for arms which remained clasped around Ryoma's shoulders. Ryoma followed suit, collapsing against Kevin's chest, his face buried in the blond man's neck as he caught his breath.

 

As Ryoma felt his consciousness slip away, he rolled off of Kevin and onto his back. That was better. He'd gone beyond the ability to think at all. He could only lie there as his pulse returned to its normal pace and allow Kevin to curl up against him.

 

He was already asleep, so he never heard Kevin mutter, “I love you, Ryoma,” in his ear before the American player also gave in to slumber.

 

Unfortunately the alarm rang much too soon for his liking. Ryoma tried to ignore it, but by the third buzz he couldn't stand it any longer. He cracked one eye open, just enough to climb over Kevin and hit the snooze bar -

 

He only stretched halfway before every joint in his left arm joined forces with the muscles in his back and legs, initiating a tortuous revolt against all motion. He gritted his teeth against the pain and yanked his arm back to his body. He glared at the clock which continued to ring.

 

Kevin's blue eyes fluttered open. “Mm, Ryoma?”

 

“Yeah, sorry. I'll get it.” Ryoma clenched his jaw even tighter, trying to create a new pain to offset the first. He tried again.

 

Kevin's hand reached the button before Ryoma moved more than an inch. Annoyed, Ryoma looked down at the blond.

 

Those familiar blue eyes were now wide open and filled with concern. “Ryoma, you're -”

 

“I'm fine.” Ryoma maneuvered back to his side of the bed, kicking the bedspread out of his way as he swung his legs off the bed. Another jolt shot up his spine while his ankles decided to join in as well. He sat and took a deep breath to make sure he could before speaking again. “I just slept wrong, that's all.”

 

Ryoma winced as he rolled his neck a few times. Of course, he must have tossed and turned during the night. He always seemed to do that after playing against Kevin. And like the times before, that was the only explanation he could think of for why he always hurt so much more than usual afterward.

 

Exactly. He was a professional tennis player, after all; a moonlight match could not have caused this. Even if he did go against the orders of his trainer and played seriously for a change. Even though a one-set match against Kevin ran longer than many of his full length tournament games.

 

Ryoma began working his left shoulder in slow circles, ignoring Kevin as he felt the blond man's weight leave the bed. Ryoma stopped only when Kevin spoke up.

 

“Here, let me do it,” Kevin said.

 

Ryoma rolled his eyes as he felt Kevin climb behind him. “I told you, I'm fi-shit, that's cold!”

 

Kevin spread a layer of cream over Ryoma's shoulder. “Good. Now stay still so I can rub this in.”

 

Knowing he had little choice, Ryoma allowed Kevin to finish the application. He was relieved when the cream began to warm into his skin.

 

“You ready?”

 

Ryoma nodded, knowing from past experience that the worst was yet to come.

 

Any argument he could have made from that point on was stolen from him. He managed to repress the worst of it, only hissing through his teeth at first. Still he could not withhold a loud groan once Kevin raised his left arm level with his shoulder. He took another deep breath while Kevin held it there. After a minute, Ryoma let out it out and dropped his head back onto Kevin's shoulder.

 

He forced a chuckle. “I must've twisted myself up like a pretzel last night.”

 

Kevin didn't argue. He just rested his cheek against Ryoma's. “Jesus, Freddy's gonna kill us both when he sees you like this.”

 

“Fuck Freddy.”

 

Kevin hummed under his breath. “Tempting, but he's a little old. And he's bald.”

 

Ryoma grinned. “You're right.” The pain started to ease. “Plus he's the Totalitarian Trainer from Hell.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Kevin agreed, “but that's because he knows you don't do stupid shit like this when he's around.”

 

Ryoma snickered, then sucked in a breath as Kevin lowered his arm back down. “Is that what it is?”

 

“That's what it is.” Kevin ran his fingers down Ryoma's arm until their hands met. “Squeeze.”

 

Ryoma complied despite his muscles' compelling argument to stop immediately. After several repetitions, Kevin drew away.

 

The silence hung for several seconds before Kevin muttered, “I think you should forfeit the match today.”

 

Ryoma twisted around to glare at Kevin. He rejected the pain radiating through his back. How could Kevin even suggest that he, Ryoma Echizen, actually skip out on a match? It wasn't like he couldn't play. He was just a little sore…

 

“Look, it's not like it matters whether you play today or not,” Kevin continued. “It's just an exhibition to make our sponsors happy.”

 

“It's a match,” Ryoma stated, as though that settled everything.

 

“It's a match against me.” Kevin's own stare hardened. “What do you plan to do, play right-handed the whole time? You'll lose, Ryoma. Is that what you want?”

 

Ryoma turned his back to Kevin and stood. “I won't forfeit the match.”

 

After a tense pause, Kevin sighed deeply. “Fine. Just don't push yourself too hard. I'm gonna go ahead and call Freddy—”

 

Ryoma had already stalked into the bathroom. He dulled the sound of Kevin's voice when he closed the door and pretended his companion never said a word about any of it.

 

A match was a match after all, and no matter what it took, he couldn't afford to give even one up. Not yet.

 

 

Tezuka got up and, rather than head straight to the arena, spent an hour at the gym inside the hotel. After showering and eating breakfast, he checked his watch. He still had some time, although not as much as he would have liked for his upcoming game. Still, the practice court at the arena would be open, so he could get in at least another half hour of productive warm-up in before he had to play.

 

As he stepped out of the hotel, his eyes were drawn to the side of the building. He could probably work out a little longer at one of the hotel's outdoor courts…

 

The image of Echizen and Kevin Smith flashed through his mind. No, he would never be able to concentrate there. It was hard enough to focus without the scenic reminder. Combined with the remnants of his dreams last night, working there would do more harm than good.

 

As he reached the walk leading to the arena skywalk, he heard the sound of a tennis ball slamming repeatedly against the uneven stone surface of the hotel just around the corner. He halted and shook off the feeling of dejà vu. Even now that sound reminded him of Echizen, even though numerous players had converged at this location to play over the week.

 

“Keep going, kid, you got twenty more!”

 

The unfamiliar gruff voice made Tezuka stop short, although there was no logical reason to do so. Trainer's working with their charges was hardly uncommon; the player practicing now behind the building could be anyone. Plus Echizen's match was scheduled at the same time as his own. Surely the younger man was already at the arena.

 

The logic of that thought mattered little. Within himself, Tezuka knew.

 

“C'mon, Ryoma, tighten your grip!”

 

Tezuka stood still, trying to decide whether he should continue on his way - which would keep him totally out of sight - or make a convenient detour to the arena. All the while, the ball continued to slam against the wall.

 

“Kid, you're gonna get your racket knocked right out of your hand on the first serve if you don't tighten your grip!”

 

Tezuka frowned. Echizen, having problems with his grip? Impossible.

 

“Shut up already.” The ball hit the wall one more time, then stopped. “My grip's fine.”

 

Echizen's voice was all it took. Something was indeed wrong.

 

Tezuka thought he heard the unnamed man sigh before saying, “Just out of curiosity, how many of those fancy shots of yours did you show off last night?”

 

Silence.

 

“Jesus, kid, why do you keep doing this to yourself? All you have to do is play nice and clean, and you'll be good for...well hell, who know how long you could keep going!”

 

Keep going? What was the man talking about? Echizen had so few rivals, what could stop him from continuing at the top?

 

“There are some people I can't beat if I play like that.”

 

“You mean Kevin?”

 

Tezuka caught himself holding his breath and forced the air back out of his lungs.

 

“Yeah. And someone else too.”

 

“Maybe that's true,” the gruff voice replied a moment later, “but I gotta wonder. There's a lot of players in the world you haven't faced yet. Are two people worth ending your career over?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Tezuka felt frozen. Thoughts leapt through his mind so fast he could scarcely make sense of them. The only thing he knew for sure was that something was very, very wrong.

 

“I don't care about anyone else,” Echizen continued. “Without those two people, I wouldn't be here. Sorry, Freddy, but I owe them my best game.”

 

“Even if your best game costs you your arm? Your legs?”

 

“Don't worry about it.” Tezuka heard things clacking together - apparently Echizen was digging in his bag. “Today won't be too bad, and I'll be on ice tomorrow.”

 

“No kidding,” the man called Freddy said. Then the man sighed. “Well, if you take it easy for the rest of the week, I guess it'll be okay. Just don't blow every joint in your body before the Open.”

 

Tezuka didn't hear Echizen respond, but he did hear the sound of a zipper and then cloth rubbing against cloth. He suddenly realized Echizen was preparing the leave. And the pair would likely turn the corner and up in up right in front of him.

 

He certainly didn't like the idea of being caught eavesdropping. He was ashamed of himself for doing it in the first place, but then Echizen hadn't mentioned anything about having problems with his arm either.

 

Tezuka did not move.

 

As predicted, the pair rounded the corner and stopped two feet in front of him. Tezuka ignored the bald man behind Echizen. The only thing he could focus on was Echizen's eyes which currently were opened to their maximum circumference.

 

“Tezuka-buchou…”

 

Something in that golden gaze finally broke the invisible grip on Tezuka's body. His mouth utilized its freedom first.

 

“You're injured.”

 

Those eyes immediately narrowed.

 

Nothing else needed to be said. Tezuka's own introduction proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that's he'd overheard the majority of Echizen's conversation. And Echizen's scowl clearly indicated his displeasure at that fact.

 

Echizen's trainer stepped forward, his own expression almost a mirror of Echizen's. Tezuka blinked. He hadn't noticed before, but most of the man's face and one exposed arm were disfigured, covered in ugly scars as if the man had sustained serious burns years earlier.

 

Tezuka looked down and bowed stiffly despite his desire to ignore the stranger. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am - “

 

“I know who you are,” the man growled.

 

Tezuka frowned at the resentment he heard behind those words. He straightened, no longer shying away from the elder's glare, his curiosity peaked. “I see.”

 

Echizen appeared to dismiss his own anger, at least for the moment. “Sorry, I guess I should introduce you.” He thumbed at the older man. “This is my trainer, Jonathan Mathers, but we just call him Freddy.”

 

Tezuka's eyebrows rose; Echizen shrugged but didn't elaborate.

 

The man Echizen called Freddy turned his back to Tezuka. “C'mon, Ryoma, we better head on.”

 

Ryoma nodded, then turned away as well. “I'll see you on the court, Buchou,” he said over his shoulder.

 

“Echizen!” Tezuka's call had sounded desperate, even to his own ears, so he cleared his throat to cover it up. But what should he say? He had too many questions running through his mind and too little time to sort them out. “Your arm…”

 

Echizen stopped mid-step, but he didn't turn back. “I'm not injured.”

 

Tezuka thought he heard a humorless snicker, although with the distance between them, he couldn't be sure. He noticed Echizen raise his left hand in front of his face, curling his fingers a few times.

 

“I guess I'm just getting old,” Echizen muttered. He dropped his arm back to his side, hiding his hand in the depths of his pocket. Then Echizen shrugged. “That's all there is to it.”

 

Tezuka wanted to follow, to ask Echizen to explain himself, to explain anything. The reverse déjà vu did not sit well with Tezuka, nor did the confusion of last night's dreams quantified by the discoveries of today.

 

Again he heard Fuji's words sing through his mind.

 

Did Echizen tell Fuji anything about this? Surely Fuji would have said something; Fuji was bitter, but Fuji wouldn't have kept something so important from him. Would he?

 

Tezuka glanced at his watch. He still had a little over an hour before his game. He calculated the time difference in his head, then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He hesitated over the “talk” button for only an instant.

 

After the third ring, Tezuka wondered if Fuji would refuse to answer since he was the one calling. He exhaled when the line picked up.

 

“Well, this is a surprise,” Fuji said softly.

 

“I apologize for calling you unexpectedly.”

 

The silence lasted a few seconds. “It's alright. It is surprising, but not unpleasant I suppose.”

 

“I need to ask you something. About Echizen.”

 

“Echizen?” Fuji sounded much more surprised by that than he had from Tezuka's call. “Ah, that's right, he's playing in the same exhibition you are now. Have you seen him yet?”

 

Tezuka fought to keep his impatience out of his voice. “Fuji, when the two of you were together last year, did he mention anything about having…problems playing…or…” Tezuka growled. He didn't even know what he wanted to know exactly. His frustration grew.

 

“He didn't say anything like that to me, no,” Fuji answered after a pause. “Tezuka, is something wrong with Echizen?”

 

There was no doubt the concern clouding Fuji's voice was genuine, which meant Echizen had definitely not said anything to Fuji. For a moment Tezuka wished he hadn't called at all.

 

“Tezuka?”

 

“I'm sorry for disturbing you. I'm sure it's nothing.”

 

“You don't do things or ask questions for no reason, Tezuka. Nor do you worry unnecessarily,” Fuji sagely replied. “But you don't have to tell me. I will only say that if you have a mystery to solve, you know I'm not the best one to call.” Another pause. “Could you hold on for just a moment, Tezuka?”

 

Tezuka opened his mouth to dismiss himself again, but the line had already gone silent. He sighed and closed his eyes. It was strange. Almost as though they were back in middle school discussing various oddities like they always had. While they were still teammates, rivals, and friends; before they went to high school and evolved into ex-teammates, ex-lovers, only occasional friends.

 

It took him a minute to register the click which meant he was back on the line. Then another familiar voice came on.

 

“Tezuka.”

 

Tezuka blinked. “Inui?”

 

“Fuji tells me you suspect there may be something wrong with Echizen. Please explain.”

 

“Fuji called you?”

 

“I hope you don't mind,” Fuji cut in. “But then you won't be able to focus until you understand what's happened to Echizen, will you?”

 

Tezuka pinched the bridge of his above his glasses. No, he definitely should not have called.