Midorino Mizu
Disclaimer: Tennis no Ohjisama is property of Konomi Takeshi and assorted other entities that are not me.
AuthorÕs Note:
IÕm new at this fandom, and IÕm not sure I have either Fuji or Jiroh
exactly right. Other than that,
read, have fun.
~*~*~*~
Jiroh didnÕt really remember how he got to the street tennis courts, but that wasnÕt at all unusual.
He figured that since Atobe was at the adjacent court exchanging taunts with SeigakuÕs freshman regular, that his captain had ordered Kabaji to bring him. That was usually the way things worked in the Hyotei Gakuen tennis club.
Jiroh didnÕt particularly care. He could sleep anywhere, as anyone with a passing acquaintanceship with him could attest.
Ohtori had once asked him why he liked to sleep so much, and Jiroh had replied that it was more interesting than anything that was happening in the waking world.
Then he had fallen asleep again, and his teammates had left him alone until it was time to play tennis again.
Tennis was one of the few things Jiroh considered to be important enough to stay semi upright for, and it was rare that he was really alert for that.
It had been challenging at first, recalled Jiroh sleepily, but not for long. Soon after he started it, he got really good at it, and it ceased to be much of a challenge. Instead, it was just another activity he could dream his way through.
He still loved the game; if he hadnÕt loved it, he would have stopped playing it altogether.
It was only that it had become exceedingly rare for anyone playing junior high tennis to actually make him work for a win, and rarer still for anyone to be able to defeat him at it.
Only two players had managed it since he had begun junior high, Atobe Keigo and Fuji Syusuke.
He yawned and propped his head on his hand, his eyes starting to drift shut again.
He would like to play Fuji again; even though Atobe could beat him without expending a great deal of effort, it wasnÕt as exciting as playing SeigakuÕs tensai. AtobeÕs style of play was relentless, and Jiroh had trouble returning any of his balls. But Atobe didnÕt use too many physics-defying tennis plays; he was just so strong that Jiroh didnÕt have much of a chance.
Fuji Syusuke had never stopped surprising him, and Jiroh really wanted to play him again. He was determined to play Fuji again.
It was just a matter of time, he decided as he pillowed his head on his hands.
Until then, Akutagawa Jiroh would sleep.
***
Fuji had started coming to the street tennis courts after he had inadvertently discovered that St. Rudolph, and particularly his brother Yuuta, had a tendency to gather there in the evenings and on weekends.
The opportunity to tease his younger brother was to good to miss, and he usually could find a good game of tennis to play if he was so inclined.
Unfortunately, it seemed that no one from St. Rudolph was hanging around the courts, and Echizen was too busy trying to get Atobe Keigo to play tennis with him to finish their own game.
None of the other players scattered around would have provided Fuji with much in the way of amusement, so he turned away, and started to walk back home.
Then he saw the sleeping figure in the cement bleachers, and decided that there might be a good game available to him after all.
Providing, of course, that Akutagawa-kun woke up.
Fuji walked towards the sleeping tennis player and gingerly poked him.
No effect, unless he counted the fact that Akutagawa Jiroh flopped over on his back, and tossed an arm over his eyes.
Fuji shrugged, dropped his tennis bag on the ground and sat down next to his potential partner. He was very patient; he could wait, and watching the volatile personalities that made up junior high tennis was amusing in its own right. If he looked carefully, it was easy to see that their sport was full of more drama than the average soap opera.
Echizen was, he noted absently, having absolutely no effect on the captain of Hyotei, but he was beginning to make Shishido Ryo twitch. That situation might be interesting to watch, for a while. Just to see how long the Hyotei player would last before he started snarling at SeigakuÕs freshman. Or how long ShishidoÕs doubles partner could hold him back from committing murder.
Echizen Ryoma was in fine form today, Fuji thought. It was just as well that the freshman didnÕt seem particularly interested in playing his senpai; as much as Fuji enjoyed the challenge, it was just as amusing watching Echizen rout his opponents.
Besides, he thought as he looked down at Jiroh, Akutagawa was kind of cute while he was sleeping, and he was enough fun to play with that it was worth the wait. HeÕd never met a tennis player who was soÉbouncy and excited over an opponent.
Fuji wondered if he should take it as a personal compliment.
***
Jiroh was dreaming of tennis.
He was playing at his best, he knew that, but he didnÕt know if he was winning. He didnÕt know his opponent. And it didnÕt really matter.
He liked to imagine that the other player was slim boy his own age, with loose brown hair and sharp blue eyes.
It really was a shame, Jiroh thought, as he slowly began to surface from his dream, that tennis in real life was rarely as exciting as it was when he was sleeping.
ÒDid you have a nice dream?Ó inquired a soft alto voice above him.
Jiroh tipped his head up and squinted at the familiar smiling face. Then he sat boldly upright and grinned. ÒFuji-san!Ó he exclaimed, suddenly wide-awake. ÒHow long have you been here?Ó
If FujiÕs eyes had been open, they would have been gleaming with amusement. ÒNot long,Ó he replied. ÒI hope I didnÕt disturb your nap?Ó
Jiroh shook his head. ÒNo,Ó he said. ÒI probably sleep too much as it is.Ó
Fuji shrugged a little. ÒHow much you should sleep is really up to you, I suppose,Ó he commented. ÒItÕs your time, after all.Ó
Jiroh stretched his arms over his head, loosening the kinks in his shoulders. ÒYeah,Ó he said. ÒI always thought that myself, but everyone else seemed to think differently. My mother used to drag me to different doctors about it constantly.Ó
That, he recalled, had been a determining factor in why he had gone to Hyotei instead of one of the other schools, like Rikkai or Seigaku. Hyotei was a boarding school, and that meant his mother couldnÕt worry over his sleeping habits, because he wasnÕt home.
He glanced over at his companion, he was looking at him with an amused smile on his face. ÒSo, do you come here often, Fuji-san?Ó he asked.
The Seigaku tensai shook his head. ÒNot with any degree of regularity, no,Ó he answered. ÒBut some of my friends like to play here, and I come by when IÕm bored. Do you come here often?Ó
Jiroh shook his head. ÒI donÕt think so.Ó
There was a moment of silence, awkward on JirohÕs side, companionable on FujiÕs side.
Finally Fuji spoke. ÒThereÕs an empty court,Ó he commented. ÒDo you want to play?Ó
ÒYeah!Ó exclaimed Jiroh, an avid light shining in his eyes. ÒIt can be a rematch!Ó
Fuji chuckled as he stood up, snagging a racket out of his bag. ÒSure, if you like.Ó
Jiroh grabbed his own racket and leapt off the bleachers, his feet thumping onto the pavement of the tennis court. He looked over his shoulder at his opponent, who was walking sedately down the steps.
ÒI wonÕt be so easily defeated this time,Ó he said with a wild grin.
ÒThatÕs good,Ó murmured Fuji. ÒThen the match will be interesting.Ó
***
Akutagawa Jiroh was, Fuji reflected as he returned another volley, an exhilarating force on the tennis court.
He kind of reminded Fuji of an overly excited puppy, a comparison that was reinforced by JirohÕs tendency to sleep most of his days away. From the mutters heÕd heard when Seigaku had played Hyotei, Jiroh spent most of his time flopped somewhere sleeping, but when he was really awake, very few people could keep up with him.
Even Fuji himself had to work to beat the Hyotei player soundly. FujiÕs normal style of play was, in its own way, as absent-minded as JirohÕs. There were only a few opponents he deemed worthy of his serious tennis; there were also a few who he had punished with his tennis.
But with Jiroh, Fuji played well because he needed to. Akutagawa was fast, and technically brilliant, and Fuji hadnÕt forgotten that Jiroh had beaten his brother in fifteen minutes flat.
He sent another ball flying deep into the court, and smiled as Jiroh chased after it, and slammed it back, laughing out loud.
He didnÕt remember ever being so exuberant in his entire life.
He didnÕt even remember Yuuta being so exuberant in his entire life; Akutagawa Jiroh was in a class by himself.
Fuji sent another return in deep.
ÒHey, Fuji-san,Ó complained Jiroh laughingly. ÒYouÕre not letting me have any fun! ItÕs not a serious game, you know.Ó
Fuji easily smashed the lob Jiroh sent his way, and smiled at AkutagawaÕs comment.
For most of the other good tennis players at their level, tennis was always a serious game.
ÒWell, you could come up to the net, if you wanted. No oneÕs stopping you.Ó
ÒAnd IÕd never be able to reach all those deep shots you keep sending me.Ó Jiroh sent the ball flying across the court, in a shot that few other players would have been able to catch.
He wasnÕt surprised when Fuji easily returned it, or when the answering cross left him chasing the yellow ball halfway across the court.
ÒYou arenÕt always like this, playing tennis,Ó Fuji observed. He easily fielded the drop shot Jiroh popped over the net. ÒWhy not?Ó
Jiroh shrugged slightly, flipping curly hair out of his eyes. ÒI donÕt need to be. You donÕt always play like this, either. Atobe says youÕre dangerous, because you never display all your abilities.Ó
Fuji didnÕt reply, he just made Jiroh dive to catch his Swallow Return.
The redheaded tennis player chuckled a little as he lobbed the ball back across the net.
ÒI usually only get to play tennis like this in my dreams.Ó
***
It was a close game. Jiroh lost, but, once again, any casual observers would have been sure he had won.
ÒThat he was fun!Ó he said with a bright grin.
Fuji smiled back at him. Akutagawa bounced, he reflected, in a manner not totally unlike Eiji. ÒIt was,Ó he said, in a way that could be interpreted as either a question or a statement.
ÒYeah,Ó nodded Jiroh. ÒI donÕt get to really play much anymore, you know?Ó He glanced over at the other court, where Atobe was lounging. ÒAtobe played me a couple of times, when we first started junior high, but he doesnÕt anymore.Ó
He looked over at Fuji again, and his smile was a trifle wry. ÒI guess I just have to be patient, huh? There will be more good players, when we get to high school.Ó
ÒYou could try that,Ó said Fuji as he slid his racket back in his bag and zipped closed. ÒThe players will be better when we get to high schoolÉbut so will we.
ÒYou might have to find ways of entertaining yourself outside of tennis.Ó
Fuji smiled over his shoulder at Jiroh, and Jiroh inexplicitly felt his face flush and a shiver cascaded down his spine. He was beginning to see why people either adored Fuji, or were terrified of him; it would be difficult to feel anything neutral about the tensai.
Jiroh thought that he was both attracted and wary, himself, and that was a dangerous combination.
ÒI think people are very interesting, myself,Ó the Seigaku senior said.
Fuji tossed his tennis bag back over his shoulder and cocked his head at the Hyotei player. ÒDo you want to do this again?Ó he asked. ÒWe could play on Sunday morning, if youÕd like.Ó
Jiroh smiled, ignoring the warning signs that his sense of self-preservation seemed to be flashing. ÒIÕd like that,Ó he replied.
ÒGood,Ó said Fuji with another of his characteristic smiles. ÒIÕll see you here, then, at ten.Ó
Jiroh nodded, and watched as Fuji breezed down the steps, and headed down the street.
He sighed a bit, then wandered to the edge of the court and put his own racket away.
A cursory glance told him that Atobe was still holding court, and that Gakuto and Oshitari were playing SeigakuÕs Oishi and Kikumaru.
He didnÕt really feel like watching them, so he hefted his own bag and walked out the court gates, and back towards the school.
Strangely enough, he didnÕt feel like sleeping now, either.
He imagined that that was Fuji SyusukeÕs fault.
~fin