Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ The Games We Play ❯ Chapter Eleven ( Chapter 11 )

A/N: I'm saving comments for the end this time. Enjoy.

 

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Chapter Eleven

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“It's been awhile, Echizen. I wish I was seeing you under different circumstances.”

 

Ryoma couldn't help but grin, however slightly. There was something both comforting and frightening in Inui's self-introduction as the bespectacled man entered the exam room and offered Freddie, standing stoically against the wall, a more formal greeting and handshake.

 

“Yeah, me too,” Ryoma moaned. “I'd much rather meet you on a tennis court than here any day. At least then I know what you're going to do.” Ryoma noticed the questioning look on Freddie's face and offered only, “Inui-sempai's the extreme data tennis monster,” as an explanation.

 

“I concur that a match with you would certainly be…interesting,” Inui admitted. “However I would surely disappoint you at my current level. After all, I have not played a serious tennis match since high school.”

 

“It's never too late to fix that.”

 

Inui actually looked nostalgic for a split second as he dropped a small duffel bag in the corner, or Ryoma believed he did. The expression vanished as soon as it had appeared, forcing Ryoma to question if it had ever been there at all. Inui was a doctor now, not a tennis player. Although Ryoma had a hard time believing Inui had forgotten how invigorated, how alive a good match could make you feel.

 

“I dare say even I could beat you in your current state,” Inui replied finally.

 

“A first year trainee could beat his dumb ass right now,” Freddie interjected, scowling even more deeply than normal. “He doesn't know his own limits. That's his biggest problem.”

 

Inui chuckled. “I'm only comforted in knowing Echizen has limits. There was a time when we wondered if that was the case.”

 

“Just call me your everyday pillar,” Ryoma huffed, “even if I am a cracked one at the moment.”

 

Inui agreed with a single nod. “So why don't we work on correcting that problem, shall we?”

 

So Inui was ready to get to it. Fine. “You just make sure I can play Buchou in two days,” Ryoma growled as he dragged himself into a sitting position and struggled out of his polo shirt with Inui's help. “Whether he wants to or not.”

 

Inui snickered and steadied Ryoma gently. He began to inspect each joint and muscle area with fingers and eyes that bespoke volumes of stored knowledge and quite a bit of experience to go with it. “Do not let his calm demeanor fool you. He wants to play you, Echizen. If I had any doubt of that I would not have offered to come. There are plenty of competent doctors here, but I owe Tezuka and you a great deal. This is the best I can do in order to repay both of you.”

 

“What do you - ah, damn it!” Ryoma clenched his jaw and tried to breathe through the more painful shoulder area Inui examined.

 

“What I mean,” Inui finished for him, as he rotated Ryoma's left shoulder slowly, “is that if it weren't for Tezuka, I would never have gotten into sports of any kind. And if it weren't for you, I would have never realized that tennis was not what I was meant to do ultimately. There is no way I could compete with the likes of Echizen Ryoma and Tezuka Kunimitsu. Or your American friend for that matter. Kevin Smith.”

 

“Kevin's nothing compared to Tezuka-buchou,” Echizen growled, both from discomfort as Inui poked his right shoulder and in intrinsic rebellion against the comparison.

 

“Watch your mouth,” Freddie spat. “That kid wiped the court with you today.”

 

Inui shrugged and moved to Ryoma's left elbow. “Perhaps, perhaps not. As for comparing Tezuka to Kevin Smith, they have not played against one another, so I have no data to use to make that determination. No one can really say.”

 

“I can.”

 

Inui seemed to accept Ryoma's words without further argument. Instead Inui retrieved his bag and bid Ryoma to lie back down. “I would try to relax if I were you,” he commanded gently. “This will not be the most pleasant experience of your career, although I can say with relative certainty that it will take care of the immediate problems you face.”

 

Ryoma frowned. “Relative certainty? What the hell does that mean?”

 

Inui just shrugged and went to work.

 

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Tezuka led Fuji up the last few floors via staircase rather than the elevator - Fuji seemed just as eager to prolong his meeting with Echizen as Tezuka himself had originally. He also understood Fuji's hesitation. Not only was Echizen in degraded physical condition, but Fuji's last encounter with Echizen would certainly make this reunion awkward at best. Then again Fuji had an amazing way of embracing people in comfort and reassuring their otherwise lonely, confused souls. Tezuka knew of Fuji's talent in that area, for better and for worse.

 

Still they did arrive, and Tezuka offered Fuji a reassuring nod before the smaller man pushed open the door obviously left cracked open for Tezuka.

 

As soon as the Japanese pair entered the living room area, they were greeted by the garbled sounds of sporadic talking from Echizen's makeshift exam room and a visually infuriated blond haired American sitting against the other side of the wall. Kevin Smith jumped off the couch he had been slouching on and sent a blazing glare over Fuji's head, Tezuka's way. Either Kevin Smith was too angry to notice Fuji standing in front of him, or the younger American just didn't care. Tezuka had no idea why the youngest man suddenly appeared more aggressive than the last time they met.

 

“We're playing a match. Right now.”

 

Tezuka blinked. His brow furrowed once Kevin Smith's challenge actually registered in his brain. “Excuse me?”

 

“I said -“

 

“I believe what Tezuka is trying to ask,” Fuji interjected sweetly, “is why you wish to play him so suddenly.”

 

Kevin gaped at Fuji for a few minutes - obviously the young player had not taken notice of Fuji's presence after all, or he had not recognized him at first - before responding. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

Fuji's smile curved up a little more. “I came to see Echizen, of course.”

 

“Go away. This has nothing to do with you.” Kevin smiled with feral indignation. “Besides, you're just one of Ryoma's has-beens, aren't you?”

 

Fuji's ethereal smile diminished slightly, and his eyes opened to compensate. “Perhaps,” he muttered after a moment as he glided closer to Kevin, “but then aren't we all? We were each a placeholder of sorts, don't you think?”

 

Kevin's face reddened in harsh contrast to his golden hair. “Like hell. Maybe you were, but not-“

 

Before the American finished his sentence, Fuji had closed the remaining distance and took the blonde's face into his thin hands. “Indeed if you feel you're an exception, why do you feel so threatened? You feel him slipping away, don't you? Surely you do, even now.” Fuji caressed Kevin's cheeks empathetically, gently, his nails leaving minute white lines across Kevin's quickly paling skin. “Some things are simply not meant to last forever, and some things are destined to be, no matter how much we fight to change that fact. Do you believe I am wrong?”

 

While Kevin remained quiet, obviously entrapped by Fuji's spell song, Tezuka had to suppress the shudder he felt as Fuji continued using soft words with lethal intent. He knew Fuji's velveteen poison all too well, and hearing it as a third-party observer made it no less disturbing. Despite that he selfishly allowed his former teammate to continue. After all, he didn't completely disagree with Fuji. Really, if his own eyes had been opened to the reality of the confusion Echizen felt within the realm of his emotions, surely Kevin had suspected it for a long time. Then there were his own feelings to consider, on which he felt a bit more clarified if not entirely familiar or comfortable.

 

Tezuka's internal conference came to a swift halt, along with Fuji's destructive song, as the adjoining door swung open suddenly and Inui appeared in the doorway.

 

“Good,” Inui said specifically to Tezuka, “I was hoping you'd be here when we finished.”

 

“How is he?” Kevin jumped in, pushing Fuji a few steps back.

 

Inui's expression became thoughtful. “Echizen has been better, I'm sure. However if he follows my instructions over the next twenty-four hours, his condition will improve enough to allow him to finish the exhibition.”

 

“And his long-term prognosis?” Fuji asked softly, and Tezuka silently thanked him for asking the question he himself had not dared to yet. That he may never have been able to properly vocalize.

 

“That,” Inui sighed, “is a different matter entirely. “I cannot be certain, but I suspect the damage in his left shoulder, elbow, and right leg may be irreversible without a great deal of surgery and physical therapy. Even that may not be enough, although he could play at the current professional level for a few more years.”

 

“Except against the most extraordinary of opponents,” Fuji mumbled, his face betraying his horror. “That is what you mean, isn't it, Inui?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes, that is precisely what I mean,” Inui concurred.

 

Tezuka finally found his voice, somehow, and retrieved in from the bottom of the pit that had developed in his stomach. “You've told Echizen this as well?”

 

“I did,” Inui confirmed. “I was concerned how Echizen would react, but as a doctor I had no choice but to inform him of the extent of his injuries. I am surprised though; his trainer seemed more unsettled by the news than Echizen himself.”

 

Tezuka wasn't sure if he was the only one who heard Kevin mutter, “I'm not surprised,” or everyone else chose not to acknowledge Kevin's answer.

 

Tezuka was in complete agreement with Kevin. Echizen had not been surprised because no one, not even Kevin, would know Echizen's body better than Echizen himself. No doubt the youngest of Tezuka's old regulars had known his condition had been degrading with every game. It was only lucky that most opponents did not require much effort on Echizen's part to conquer. And Kevin no doubt, whether consciously or not, probably did not make a habit of pushing Echizen as hard in regulation matches as he had the previous night.

 

Now that Tezuka had come onto the professional stage, Echizen would have had to work that much harder, because Tezuka would most definitely not avoid pushing Echizen as he always had.

 

“At the moment though, I believe Echizen would appreciate a distraction. You're welcome to go in and see him,” Inui prompted. Kevin raced in without a second glance, but Fuji waited until Tezuka nodded and took a step to follow him inside.

 

Inui's hand on his shoulder stopped him. “There is one more thing that I need to tell you specifically, Tezuka,” he said and motioned for Tezuka to go into the hallway.

 

Once Tezuka complied and Inui closed the door behind them, Inui's expression became grave. “He wants to play you in this exhibition, even now.”

 

“Indeed.” Tezuka knew there was more to it, and he waited for Inui to confirm what he felt - no, what he feared - Inui would say next.

 

Inui nodded. “I can help him do so, but if he plays you all-out as I know he will, I fear that game will be his last.”

 

That game will be his last. “Do you mean-”

 

“The stress on his body will cause more damage to what is already damaged. It will likely be impossible to repair completely. His professional career will be over.”

 

Tezuka pushed down the bile that crept up his throat and forced himself to remain calm, at least on the exterior. “I suppose you told him that as well?”

 

Inui nodded a confirmation, his expression distant. “His reaction was noteworthy indeed. Most interesting…”

 

“So,” Tezuka stated deliberatively, “I need to convince Echizen to withdraw from this competition after all.”

 

“Perhaps, or perhaps you should take this” - Inui produced a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Tezuka - “and assist him in completing this regimen while he decides for himself between now and Friday what he truly wants, and what he can realistically have at this stage of his career. And more importantly, what he can have in his life at this time, whether it should include a continued professional career.”

 

As Inui began to walk away, Tezuka admitted, “I do not know how to help him.”

 

Inui seemingly ignored the comment, but called over his shoulder instead. “His physical regimen is on the paper. Please report the results to me, Tezuka. I would very much like to add that data to my files. Of course I've collected such fascinating data already, but the outcome of this situation will provide the best…”

 

Tezuka could no longer hear Inui as the player turned the corner. He was alone for the moment, and he felt utterly lost. How could Inui expect him to help Echizen destroy his career? Or perhaps Inui assumed that if Tezuka allowed Echizen to make the decision on his own, he would be more likely to make the better one? Echizen was impulsive, but surely a day would help the younger player purge his impatient desires so he could focus on the future before him.

 

Tezuka frowned. Echizen had grown up in some ways, yes, but Tezuka had little faith that Echizen had changed in such a fundamental way. His previous actions so far indicated so as far as Tezuka was concerned. So…what was he supposed to do? Was there anything he could do? Was it too late? True, he was no longer Echizen's tennis captain, but when did he become so powerless to help one of his own?

 

He lost track of how long he stood in the hallway, captive to his own morose thoughts. His reverie was broken however, very suddenly, by fingers snapping about three inches from his nose. He jerked up front and center, and he was met with a searing golden gaze.

 

“You don't have time to daydream, Buchou,” Echizen said. “We have work to do.”

 

Tezuka blinked a few times to clear his head before responding. “Do we?”

 

Echizen tapped the forgotten paper clutched in Tezuka's hand. “You ready to go, or do you need to go back to your room first?”

 

“Go? Where?” Tezuka clenched his jaw. Since when did he allow himself to sound so unsure of a situation?

 

Echizen appeared unfazed. “We're hitting the spa. Are you ready or not?”

 

Tezuka gave himself a second to collect his thoughts. “What about Fuji and Kevin Smith? Perhaps one of them would be better suited to-“

 

“Not a chance,” Echizen interrupted firmly. “It has to be you.”

 

“Does it?”

 

“Yes.” Echizen jabbed his thumb toward the elevator. “You owe me, after all, and we have something we need to get straight over the next couple days.” Echizen flashed a mischievous grin before walking, a slight but improved limp apparent, toward the elevator. “You need to try to convince me not to play you right now, and I need to convince you that I can't be convinced.” Echizen pushed the down button and glanced back. “That about sums it up, doesn't it, Tezuka-buchou?”

 

Tezuka marveled at how Echizen had turned something he'd found so complex minutes earlier into something so simple. Without another moment's hesitation, Tezuka joined Echizen at the elevator doors.

 

Indeed, Echizen had summed it up perfectly.

 

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A/N: I tried to get this one out in better time than my previous updates. I can't guarantee the quality, but it gets me where I need to be for the next chapter. Yeah, next chapter this story earns its rating, warnings, etc. So if you don't know what YAOI is or if you're not sure if you like depictions of sex between two men, skip the next chapter. Or at the very least, read up on what you're in for before the next chapter is posted.

 

Thank you for reading!