Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ The Games We Play ❯ Chapter Eight ( Chapter 8 )

Chapter Eight

 

 

 

Tezuka snapped his cell phone shut. He shifted his glassed up with one finger and used the rest to massage the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sure how a spur of the moment phone call to Fuji had turned into such a large scale affair, but it had. First Inui had appeared on the line, and the next thing he knew every old Segaku member and a couple other familiar voices had joined in on one big conference call, which had been commandeered by none other than Atobe Keigo. Tezuka still didn't know who'd called him in the first place.

 

For a moment he recalled a time when he had been able to keep situations like this under control. He lamented that he'd apparently lost that ability since his school days.

 

However the increase in participation had also added to the hypotheses regarding Echizen's mysterious condition, and Tezuka had to admit that even Atobe's inclusion was helpful in that the man could get one of the world's most noted sports medicine doctors on the phone on a whim. Still, in the end, Tezuka kept going back to something Kikumaru had said:

 

“Well, maybe Ochibi's telling the truth. I mean, he's been playing in the pro circuit for a long time, right? And it has to be hard to play a lot of those guys, especially in multiple-set matches, when most are physically bigger and stronger than him. So maybe he is just “getting old” like he said…”

 

Inui too had seemed to give a great deal of consideration to that train of thought. Particularly since Echizen's play style had always been so physically intensive. Sure, Echizen was only twenty years old, but he'd surely put his muscles and joints through more stress playing his type of tennis than most normal people, even normal athletes, would in a lifetime.

 

But then that brought Tezuka back to a single doubt, one sole regret that had haunted him for some time. One that had now grown considerably stronger.

 

Had he waited too long?

 

More importantly, had Echizen been waiting for him all along?

 

Perhaps people would consider that thinking conceited, but somehow he felt deeply, intrinsically, that Echizen had indeed been waiting. He didn't know why he felt it so keenly at the moment. After all Echizen had opponents like Kevin Smith…

 

Tezuka dismissed the name and the thoughts it provoked immediately. He was not ready to concede to the younger American in any way. Besides, Echizen had told his trainer that he played against his trainer's wishes for someone besides Kevin Smith. And Echizen himself had admitted it as well, hadn't he? The day they met at the exhibition?

 

“I'm glad you're here, Buchou. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever come.”

 

Yes, Echizen had been waiting for him. Not for any one of many strong opponents. Echizen had waited for him, had played beyond his own physical abilities for almost a decade just to prepare for the day he would once again face him.

 

The sense of eureka was bittersweet indeed, and at the moment Tezuka didn't have time to contemplate it deeply. He decided that was a blessing. He had a game to win, and then another, before he could face the cumulative perfection of a match with Echizen Ryoma.

If Echizen was physically capable of playing such a match anymore. And at the moment, Tezuka didn't know if that was possible. He suspected Echizen was the only one who knew the answer to that question.

 

 

 

“Alright, Kevin, just a few more!”

 

Kevin nodded to his trainer, returning the ball to the opposite end of the practice court. They repeated the action several more times while he gauged the ache in his legs. It wasn't too bad really. The cortisone had kicked in, thankfully, so he felt confident he could play without restraint.

 

Ryoma however was a different matter. Kevin knew that in Ryoma's current condition, even after treatment, the beautiful Japanese superstar was going to lose this time.

 

From a tournament standpoint, it wouldn't matter. The game had no effect on their rankings; Ryoma would still be the number one player in the world when it was all said and done. On the other hand Kevin knew Ryoma would stew about it for a while, especially since his old captain would be on the very next court, undoubtedly watching their game while playing his own. Kunimitsu Tezuka was going to have a closer-than-front-row view of Ryoma's defeat.

 

But would that be such a bad thing? Of course Ryoma would be furious, but his ex-captain…

 

Kevin gritted his teeth and returned another shot. It was about time that bastard witnessed firsthand what Ryoma had sacrificed over the past eight years. That Tezuka guy needed to see what Ryoma had become while waiting for him to show up on their circuit. Kevin wanted Seigaku's former captain to understand why he wasn't worthy of Ryoma's dedication anymore.

 

Kunimitsu Tezuka needed to realize why Kevin no longer intended to walk away as he once told himself long ago that he would.

 

Kevin's trainer deflected the last ball rather than actually returning it, the man's eyes focused over Kevin's shoulder. Kevin turned. He spotted the very center of his musings standing in the doorway.

 

The infamous ex-captain bowed. “Excuse me for interrupting,” he said in smooth, subtly accented English, “but I need to warm up before my match. Do you mind?” He straightened, then jerked his head toward the corner of the room where the concrete practice wall stood.

 

Kevin pursed his lips and shrugged while biting back a slew of things he wanted to tell the man. “Do what you like. It doesn't matter to me,” he said, turning his back to the older player.

 

There was a long pause. Kevin never expected a response, so he was surprised when Kunimitsu Tezuka suddenly said, “If that's the case, would it be an imposition if I asked you to assist me in my warm-up?”

 

Kevin blinked. He slung his racket over his shoulder and turned, once again, to the man Ryoma had so desperately respected for as long as Kevin had known and loved his Japanese counterpart.

 

He recalled the first time he'd seen Kunimitsu Tezuka when he was a kid, but somehow the man seemed bigger now than he remembered. Not just taller or more physically imposing. Just…bigger. It was as though the very air around the man had to move aside to accommodate the overwhelming density of his essence.

 

Just like Ryoma…

 

The mental comparison annoyed him, but the truth was undeniable, especially now that he was standing so close to the talented newcomer. The strength of Tezuka's stature, the underlying challenge in his otherwise fathomless eyes…

 

In that respect, and in terms of their damn near primal aesthetic allure, Kunimitsu Tezuka and Ryoma Echizen were almost too much alike.

 

So this was the man who held Ryoma's ambition so thoroughly and completely. No wonder…

 

Charisma aside, the man was also a phenomenal athlete. Kevin knew that just by watching a few of Ryoma's tapes over the past several years. Ryoma had often said the man was even more disciplined, even stronger, than he'd been when he led Seigaku's tennis team. And according to Ryoma, Kunimitsu Tezuka had been damn near invincible back then.

 

Kevin didn't want to warm-up with this man. He wanted to play him. Really play him. He wanted to measure his professionally honed skills against this man he resented on Ryoma's behalf.

 

But for the moment, a warm-up would have to do. There was a lot one could tell about a player just by feeling the serve against an opposing racket.

 

Kevin accepted Tezuka's request with quick nod. “You can have this side,” he said, walking around the net, positioning himself at the service line.

 

“All right.”

 

Kevin watched Tezuka drop his bag on the bench nearest to the door. The man's racket was in his left hand a moment later.

 

“I assume introductions aren't necessary,” Tezuka said once he'd placed a few balls in his pockets with one in his hand.

 

“Nope, they're not.”

 

“I intend to keep it light. I suspect your trainer doesn't want you to overexert yourself.”

 

Kevin's eyes narrowed as he lowered his stance and readied himself. “I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. Besides, you're the one who needs to warm up, right?”

 

This time it was Tezuka who shrugged as though it didn't matter to him either way. Still, even from a distance, and even behind the glasses, Kevin could see the ignition in Kunimitsu Tezuka's eyes.

 

He could see the fire, the silent challenge issued from within it, and within that…

 

A question?

 

Kevin squinted. Surely he misread that. What could the older man possible be curious about? He exuded a confidence in his ability that was unshakable and absolute, his fighting spirit implacable. Was he intrigued by Kevin's notoriety, or was his query related more to Ryoma than to Kevin himself?

 

Kevin tightened his grip. If that was the case, then Kevin would change that. A lot could be read in one's return, after all.

 

The Kunimitsu Tezuka served. Kevin knew it wasn't his full strength or skill either, yet he still stood, unmoving and in awe, as the ball ricocheted off the wall behind him. For some reason Ryoma's face flashed through his mind, wearing the same expression he always showed when speaking about his former captain.

 

Kevin stood straight and acknowledged that respect now, to a degree.

 

This…this is Kunimitsu Tezuka.

 

Tezuka pulled another ball out of his pocket, his eyes like laser pointers as they focused on him. “You seemed more alert during your match last night.”

 

Kevin considered the statement. There was meaning behind those words. However he could only guess at what the older man actually implied by them though. “You're probably right. After all, I can't ever slack off when I'm playing Ryoma,” Kevin acknowledged after a moment. Then he bent down again, poised at the ready. “I guess I shouldn't slack if I'm up against you either, even if this is just a warm up.”

 

Tezuka's head tilted up although his eyes remained fixed on Kevin's. “No,” he said, in Japanese and almost too softly for Kevin to hear, “you most certainly should not.”

 

Only then, as he barely reached and returned the ball Tezuka served next, did Kevin consider that Tezuka was referring to something in addition to, or perhaps something entirely separate from, the game of tennis.

 

The rally became easier to keep up as Kevin acclimated to his opponent's pace. Of course Tezuka still wasn't using his full power. Kevin assumed that was reserved for his real opponent of the day. Which meant Kunimitsu Tezuka was a monster to be feared without a doubt.

 

But every monster had a weakness.

 

“You know, there's something I think I should tell you, right here and now,” Kevin said. He shot another return back. “About Ryoma.”

 

Tezuka showed no outward reaction. He shot the ball to the opposite side of the court. “Is it about his condition?”

 

So he knows something about that already…

 

“No,” Kevin managed as he ran to catch the ball, sending the ball in an almost perfectly diagonal track across the net. “It's about Ryoma and me. And you.”

 

This time Tezuka's expression not only changed, but the impact against the ball when it met his racket rang louder. The ball's trajectory sent it right back at Kevin, although the ball was much heavier than it had been previously.

 

Kevin managed to send it back in a straight line, allowing Tezuka to work his legs a bit by running to catch it. But the weight of that ball had proven he'd struck a nerve. Now to expose it, to see just how much it twitched.

 

“I used to be okay with how things are, but I can't do that anymore.”

 

Tezuka slammed the ball at him again, even harder. “I have no idea what you mean.”

 

“I mean that,” Kevin returned the shot, “even after all these years,” his power and resolve increased as he watched Tezuka prepare to meet the shot, “he's still in love with you, and I'm just his Fuji.”

 

Tezuka skidded to a halt. The ball flew right past him. The older man acted as though he hadn't even noticed it was there.

 

Even Kevin was shocked by the profound change in Tezuka. Had anyone, ever, seen Kunimitsu Tezuka so shaken? From everything Ryoma had told him, he doubted it. That gave him even more strength, even more conviction in his own words.

 

Kevin drew in a few deep, much needed breaths. “I won't be your fill-in anymore. I love Ryoma.” He frowned. “I've watched him struggle; I've witnessed how much he's suffered these last few years, just hoping he'd be good enough for you when you finally showed up. And I've seen what it did to him every time he heard you had the chance to come to him, on his level, and you decided not to. You're the only person whose opinion he ever gave a shit about, and you rejected him. Over and over. But not this time. I won't let it happen again.”

 

Tezuka remained motionless. He just stared.

 

“You act like you didn't know. That just pisses me off even more,” Kevin spat. “Forget it. I think we're done with the warm up anyway.”

 

Tezuka seemed to come back to himself a little. “Wait. I…I don't understand. You said that Echizen…all this time…”

 

“Christ, you really don't deserve Ryoma. Not that it matters.” Kevin strode off the court and thrust his racket into his bag. He snorted as he shouldered his bag. “I think the worst part is, even though he knew you wouldn't give him a second glance once he couldn't play, he still worked so damn hard to meet the expectations he believed you had for him. Especially after he found out about you and that Fuji guy.”

 

Kevin smirked when Tezuka blanched.

 

“Don't act so insulted. Even though he never said it - hell, maybe he never even consciously realized it - I think he understood what that so-called relationship was really about. You were using Fuji, weren't you? Just using a guy who loved you to keep you company until you could come here and grab the real prize.”

 

Ignoring the darkening expression on Tezuka's face, Kevin continued. “It's actually nothing to be ashamed of on its own. It's not like there aren't plenty of people who'd love to claim Ryoma as theirs. Hell, it's not like he's mine either. He does his own thing most of the time. I wish it were different, and maybe someday it will be, but for now it is what it is.”

 

He realized Tezuka's hands and his racket were actually shaking. He bowed his head. Perhaps he'd gone too far, but it was too late to turn back now. He didn't regret his words so much as he felt almost as though he'd betrayed Ryoma in a way. So he softened his voice, and he could not hide his own sadness as he continued.

 

“Seriously, just forget about Ryoma. He's not the player you remember. Yeah, he can still play an awesome game, but no matter what anyone else says, the fact is he won't be able to play at this level much longer. His body's thrashed. No doctor in the world can fix him now. He's just…”

 

 

 

Tezuka managed to steady his voice which slashed through the air like a saber once he regained a grip on it. “…gotten old. Or so he told me.”

 

He was rather pleased to see it was Kevin who gaped at him this time, rather than the other way around. The pleasure unfortunately was minute compared to the other emotions he felt at the moment.

 

So many foreign emotions. Emotions which felt painfully and irreparably convoluted at the moment. Despite his own first, best effort at self-delusion, Kevin Smith's words had struck as only the most damning of truths could.

 

For the first time in his life, Tezuka actually wished he didn't have the obligation of a scheduled match. In fact, it was one of the very few moments in his life when something, or more accurately that someone, held more importance to him than tennis.