Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ The Games We Play ❯ Chapter Nine ( Chapter 9 )

Chapter Nine

 

 

 

Tezuka ignored the cheers. He tuned out the announcement of his victory. His body switched to autopilot for the expected handshake with his defeated opponent and a bow to the audience. He covered his racket and grabbed his bag. Pausing only long enough to shove the bag into his stunned manager's chest, he dismissed the waiting reporters with a withering glare.

 

Tezuka had defeated his opponent in straight sets, but he didn't care. He could only focus on one thing, the preceding announcement for the simultaneous game two courts away.

 

Right now Echizen and Kevin Smith were tied three-all.

 

How much longer could Echizen play in his current state? Was Kevin Smith really going all out against Echizen, knowing his lover's - no, his opponent's - condition. Kevin Smith was surely playing his best against Echizen. No doubt Echizen was doing the same, even if his body protested. Their relationship off the court had nothing to do with their match. Whatever the reality of that relationship was.

 

“He's still in love with you, and I'm just his Fuji...”

 

Tezuka frowned. Even after what happened during high school, he could not properly define what Fuji had been to him. A friend, obviously. An acceptable and worthy opponent, always. Perhaps he even considered Fuji a rival of sorts, despite Fuji's apathy toward competition in general. And he had taken Fuji as his lover for a period, although he never intended it to be permanent. But then he hadn't intended it at all.

 

However Kevin Smith knew nothing about Fuji or him. Certainly the American player didn't understand enough about them to make such any type of analogy when talking about Echizen.

 

“He's still in love with you...”

 

Tezuka's frown deepened, and he quickened his pace down the corridor. That assertion by Kevin Smith was...quite simply impossible. Echizen had been a child when he'd attended Seigaku. They'd both been children, really. Both children when Echizen left and made his professional debut, neither capable of feeling so strongly for the other. Twelve and fourteen year old adolescents did not create such strong attachments that one could reasonably call them “being in love.” Echizen paid him a certain level of respect during that year, and Tezuka knew Echizen's game evolved considerably thanks to his direct intervention. Because of that, Echizen held him in high enough regard to name him the marker he had to surpass to accept the mantle of a professional tennis player.

 

And it was true that Tezuka experienced an unusual affinity towards Echizen during his brief tenure in the tennis club. He admitted that to himself readily. Echizen's talent had been unmistakable, his potential without limit. The boy's enigmatic demeanor was alluring to all of them back then. Tezuka couldn't think of a single one of his other Regulars who didn't anticipate the chance to play against Echizen. The young Echizen had allured many players from all over the region before he left for his first US Open. It was only natural, really, to be excited when those golden eyes challenged you from across the net, or even from across the room or from a VIP box in the stands.

 

But to say Echizen was in love with him based on that? That was not only an inaccurate assertion, but it was a naïve one as well. Even if Echizen had gone to the lengths Kevin Smith claimed during his career in preparation for his senpai's appearance, Tezuka believed the catalyst was Echizen's drive, his competitive nature. It had nothing to do with emotions like love or adoration.

 

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

 

Honestly, it was foolish to even consider the notion that Echizen was in love with him, ever had been for that matter.

 

“That wasn't supposed to be the end. If I'd believed that, I never would have left.”

 

The thought...was ludicrous.

 

“When I saw Fuji again and he told me about you two, it was like... It was like you'd moved on and forgotten about me.”

 

Absolutely ludicrous...

 

Tezuka realized his walk had become a jog. When he noticed how close he was, his pace increased once again. Tezuka turned a sharp corner and reached the doorway leading to the box seats for Court One. He took both tiers of stairs that led up to it in twos. When Tezuka flung the second door open, he stopped for a few precious seconds just to let his eyes adjust to the sunlight outside once again. Then he slid past the curious onlookers around him and claimed one of the empty seats at the end, although he never sat down.

 

His attention was already captured by the court stretched out before him and the black haired man preparing to serve to his right. A glance at the digital score board showed Kevin Smith has taken a fourth game. The look on Echizen's face alone, even from so far away and hidden beneath the shadow of the brim of his trademark hat, showed he was struggling to continue. Echizen's frustration was evident in his posture, his face, the way he gripped his racket. Tezuka also noted that Echizen's trainer was pacing anxiously near the sideline bench.

 

Echizen...

 

Echizen's body appeared to tense even more, and the young man straightened. His focus lifted and his head swiveled. Then Echizen's gaze searched for only a moment before Tezuka knew he'd been found.

 

Echizen stared, and Tezuka unblinkingly stared back until the net judge called out to Echizen to continue the game.

 

However Echizen's expression had changed. Determination had replaced the signs of pain in his face. His mouth became a thin, firm line, and his brilliant golden eyes narrowed. He bounced the ball a few time, and then served the ball with a grimace. It was a good serve, and it apparently caught Kevin Smith by surprise. Otherwise Tezuka felt certain Echizen would not have gotten the service ace.

 

The remainder of Echizen's service game did not prove to work out as well as the first; within minutes Kevin Smith had claimed the fifth game. Echizen's visible discomfort returned as well. Tezuka watched with mounting concern as his former teammate moved stiffly back to the service line, switching his racket to his right hand and rotating his left shoulder gingerly.

 

A quick glance at Kevin Smith proved the blond was equally worried. He never once looked away from Echizen, the American's features drawn, his eyes piercing even from Tezuka's vantage point. No doubt Kevin knew the quickest way to get Echizen off the court. Echizen's pride be damned. Kevin Smith had to defeat Echizen quickly, mercilessly, allowing no opening for a rally. In Echizen's condition, it wouldn't be difficult to do. Tezuka hoped Kevin Smith intended to do just that.

 

The next series of shots back and forth between Kevin Smith and Echizen however showed yet another obstacle. Echizen's drive had increased once again, probably as a result of Kevin Smith's increasing lead. And Kevin Smith was slowing down. Annoyed that Kevin seemed more inclined to lower his pace that finish the match, Tezuka turned his full attention to Kevin Smith after Echizen took a second straight point.

 

There was no mistake. Kevin Smith wasn't maintaining his speed, particularly in his footwork. He was taking longer to get from baseline to net, and he seemed to be struggling more and more with shots Echizen sent to the right corner. The decline has not been as obvious while his opponent was struggling. With new life breathed into Echizen's lagging game though, the difference became blatant. Echizen apparently realized Kevin Smith's weakness as well; every third and fourth shot was directed within inches of the apex. Kevin missed three in a row, giving Echizen a fourth game and a glimmer of a comeback.

 

Tezuka frowned as he watched Kevin Smith limp, slightly but visibly, to his bench for his water and then to the receiver's position. So the change in pace wasn't deliberate. Apparently the American's body was also beginning to feel the strain of the match, compounded most likely by the game the two had played the night before.

 

Was this just one more thing the two shared, the physical degradation? For some reason the addition of yet another commonality between the two unsettled Tezuka. And surely there was only one reason Kevin Smith had pushed his own body beyond its limits. Rather, there was only one person for whom the blond had pushed himself repeatedly.

 

Was Kevin Smith beyond repair as well, as he'd claimed Echizen was now? But Kevin Smith had already said Echizen and he weren't in a real relationship, so...why go so far?

 

The conversation he'd overheard that morning between Echizen and his trainer replayed in Tezuka's mind in lieu of his typical situation analysis.

 

“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!”

 

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

 

A collective gasp from the crowd around him turned Tezuka's full attention off Kevin and back to the game as a whole. His lungs burned from his own sharp intake of breath. Before his brain registered his actions, he launched himself over the railing of the VIP box, landing heavily onto the concrete walkway below, startling several people who had leaned forward in their court side seats for a better look at the scene before them. He ignored them all as well as the twinge now in his own ankles from his impromptu leap. He saw the few stairs left and ran for them immediately.

 

Never before had the fans of professional tennis seen Ryoma Echizen drop his racket during a match. Nor had anyone, not even Tezuka, witnessed Echizen with both his knees and forehead on the ground, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut, his shoulders and back jerking as he struggled for a full breath before choking on it.

 

Tezuka felt a twinge, albeit empathetic, in his left shoulder as he jumped the stairs entirely and reached the court's edge. Oh yes, if a person experienced that degree of pain once, just once, it was never forgotten. Not in the mind, and definitely not in the body.

 

The outcome was obvious now. Echizen's game was over.

 

The trainer, Freddy, was already on the court. He knelt beside Echizen; Kevin Smith appeared within seconds. Both men pulled Echizen up, one under each arm, and half drug him to the court side bench. Tezuka met them there.

 

Kevin knelt before Echizen while the referee called an official time-out and made his way down from his seat. Freddy however addressed Tezuka.

 

“Get the hell outta here, rookie,” he spat. “You don't belong down here.”

 

Tezuka schooled his features. “I refuse.”

 

Kevin jumped up and turned his icy blue stare to Tezuka. “You heard Freddy. You're not part of this. Get off the court.”

 

“And you obviously heard me as well.”

 

Kevin came around the bench and advanced until he was mere inches from Tezuka. “We told you to get off this court. Ryoma's not your concern anymore.”

 

“I assure you,” Tezuka returned darkly, “Echizen has never stopped being my concern.”

 

Both Freddy and Kevin looked more than willing to continue the fight to its end, but the referee interrupted them. Grudgingly, Freddy intercepted the ref's questions about Echizen's condition and his ability to continue the game. Kevin Smith stalked back to his own bench where his trainer now waited.

 

“Buchou...”

 

Tezuka remained behind Echizen and swallowed. The younger man's voice was cracking with the effort to keep his tone even. He already knew what was coming.

 

“I want to finish the match.”

 

Tezuka closed his eyes for a moment. Unfortunately, at this point, Kevin was absolutely right. He had no place in this decision. “Although I would not advise it, whether or not you continue is up to you.”

 

Echizen let out a mix of a snort and a groan. Then he leaned back slowly until his head rested on Tezuka's stomach. Tezuka tensed, but Echizen seemed not to notice. “C'mon, Buchou, let me finish this one. I only need” - Echizen grinned, although it looked more like a grimace from the creases Tezuka could see through the sweaty strands of hair plastered to Echizen's brow - “ten minutes.”

 

Freddy came back then, his jaw set. He ignored Tezuka's presence, or perhaps he was simply avoiding the unusual sight of Tezuka and Echizen together in such a manner. Then again the trainer probably focused only on the most immediate problem.

 

Freddy cleared his throat and leveled his gaze on his young charge's face. “The ref needs to know if you can keep going or not. Then again, it don't make a damn bit of difference if you can't hold the racket.”

 

“I can hold my racket,” Echizen said, closing his eyes and leaning even more heavily onto Tezuka's midsection. “Count on it.”

 

Freddy's expression turned grim. The man crouched in front of Echizen, placing a hand on each of the younger man's knees. “It's an exhibition match, kid. It's not worth killing yourself for, you know that. How about we say to hell with the sponsors and call it a day, huh?”

 

Freddy had kept his tone light under the circumstances, but the expression on the man's face left no doubt that he feared the consequences should Echizen continue playing his match. Tezuka couldn't disagree. His own desire at the moment was to push for Echizen's forfeiture just to create a better chance - although there certainly was no guarantee anymore - that he would have his own match against the world famous star.

 

Echizen breathed in so deeply and out so forcefully that Tezuka heard it over the increased murmurs echoing down from the stands. “I won't just quit on a match,” he said finally, firmly, “It doesn't matter what kind it is or if it's worth a title. I'd rather take a legitimate loss than just give up a game.”

 

Kevin had paced back to Echizen's bench, and the blond cursed loudly before shouting, “What the hell's wrong with you? Are you that determined to be the tragic hero and lose? To end your entire career?”

 

“If you can be that big of a drama queen,” Echizen quipped with a strained grin, “then I can be a tragic hero.” Kevin opened his mouth to respond, but the referee interrupted.

 

There was not time left, and the crowd feel silent instantly. Everyone knew the decision they'd waited on was imminent. Tezuka however wished he could freeze time indefinitely. This game should never resume, he knew that fact well. But it wasn't his place. Not anymore...

 

“I won't forfeit,” Echizen reiterated - Tezuka felt his stomach clench - and added, “and neither will you,” when Kevin once again opened his mouth. Kevin looked mutinous but said nothing. Instead the blond stormed back to his side of the court, snatching his racket from his own bench on the way. Echizen stood as well and bent his limbs gingerly. He groaned when he rotated his left shoulder and flexed his fingers at the same time, but otherwise Echizen seemed to accept his body's current condition as passable.

 

Tezuka knew better. He suspected Echizen did as well.

 

As if eavesdropping again, he heard his own voice quietly ask, “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

 

Echizen turned back to Tezuka. For a millisecond, if even that long, Tezuka thought he saw a flicker of doubt corrupt Echizen's aureate gaze. Then Echizen smirked. “What would you do, Buchou?”

 

Tezuka knew it wasn't the question Echizen had asked at all. In fact, there was no question. Echizen may as well have said, “It's no less than what you've done...” It left no argument unless Tezuka wanted to become a hypocrite.

 

Tezuka was no hypocrite.

 

So he gave Echizen the single nod that, judging by the younger man's relaxing stance, Echizen had wanted to see before stepping back behind the net. With that Tezuka resolved to remain and watched Echizen fight to the end and inevitably lose his first game of the exhibition series.

 

Despite how much Echizen struggled after that, how difficult it became for Tezuka to watch as Kevin Smith scored every point remaining, Tezuka did exactly as he'd intended. He stayed, and he watched to the very end of the match.