[paris]
Title: The Tennis Court at the End of the Universe
ID: [paris]
Word count: 3,600
Character(s) or pairing(s): Yukimura, Seigaku and Rikkai ensemble
’Planetoid CX30750, uninhabited,’ the encyclopaedia told curious visitors. ‘Of note only for its location at the edge of known space and the presence of a single great stadium.’ A stadium containing just a single tennis court: the tennis court at the end of the universe, where the greatest tournaments also come to an end.
The final of this tournament too, the youth division intergalactic tournament, now in its final phase. There was one match yet to be played, the deciding match between the Seigaku and Rikkai teams.
Following the winding corridor from the changing rooms, Yukimura stepped into the players’ box on the Rikkai side of the court, the collar of his jumpsuit still unzipped whatever the sponsors would have to say. Through the clear wall, he could look out at the court and beyond it to the tier upon tier of spectators that filled the towering stands above the Seigaku enclosure on the other side of the stadium.
The door slid shut behind Yukimura and he looked at his team. They appeared calm, lounging around the small room as though they’d been playing the big games for years and not, in Kirihara’s case, a matter of mere months.
“This is it,” he said, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. “The final leg. We’ve played four matches already and the tournament ends here, on the other side of the universe. A win here will start off our time on the senior tour nicely, I think.”
“You lose and you’re treating us to drinks for a year,” was the instant response. “No excuses this time.”
“Now Niou-kun,” Yagyuu said, eyebrow lifting above the frame of his glasses. “While I believe that Yukimura-kun will win without too much difficulty, I’m sure that Echizen-kun has improved in the last three years.”
Niou matched Yagyuu’s expression with the eerie similarity that marked them out as clones from Alpha Centauri as surely as their genetic pattern, no matter their apparent differences. Akaya’s snort was both loud and rude.
“Come on Yagyuu-senpai. Echizen lost to Shitenhouji’s Tooyama Kintarou last year. He’s not exactly a prodigy anymore.”
“Akaya, I’m not sure that...”
The speaker beeped insistently. Suddenly there was quiet.
“Yukimura-san, you’re due on court in five minutes.”
There was silence for a moment then Yukimura nodded, picked up his racket and tucked his helmet under the other arm. He was Yukimura Seiichi. He was number one on the number one team in the universe. Why would he be nervous? He took one last look at his team and stepped through the door onto the courtside.
* * * * * * * *
“Echizen,” Oishi said, trying to ignore the bustling, nervous activity of his team around them. This was the final match of the final round and it was clear that the others were aware of it... aware of that and of Yukimura’s reputation. Should he warn Echizen about the fully-recovered Yukimura, about the youth who’d left player after player sprawled collapsed on the court in the previous few years. Echizen had played Yukimura once before, when Yukimura was barely out of rehab for a shuttle accident, and Echizen had only just won. This time, three years on, would he still have the edge?
No, it wouldn’t do to throw him off his rhythm. Oishi wasn’t a singles player but he knew that they tended to need to focus on their own. Echizen had had a chance to study the recordings, telling him now wouldn’t help. “Play your best. This is Rikkai’s captain. For Seigaku, come back with the win!”
Echizen’s look was unimpressed.
Somehow Tezuka had managed to reach Echizen with a simple ‘don’t let your guard down’. Maybe Oishi needed Tezuka to teach him how to do the motivational talks. He watched as Echizen tugged his visor of his helmet down across his face and shouldered his racket. Echizen paused in the doorway, held by the sudden outburst of sound behind him as the rest of the team realised he was ready.
“Go for it, kiddo!” Eiji called and Oishi spared a thankful thought to him for distracting him from the tension of the moment. This was it, after all - once he let Echizen go, he couldn’t call him back.
“SEIGAKU, FIGHT-O!” Kawamura called, giving Echizen a thump on the back that had him half-turning in indignation and, though his face was covered, Oishi could almost see the smirk on his face. There was a sudden flash as the spotlight found Echizen’s luminous white suit and then he was gone, moving meet Yukimura at the net.
As the door slid shut, Oishi sank back into his seat between Eiji and Fuji with a sigh. This was it, the final test. When an injury in a high-g match had put Tezuka out of the team for good, they had all wondered whether they would be strong enough to last without him. Last year, they hadn’t been. This year, though, they had a player who stood a chance of outlasting Yukimura.
Seigaku watched in edgy silence as Echizen made his way to the net. He didn’t look back and Oishi felt some of his tension ease. Echizen wasn’t nervous; it was just tennis on his mind, as ever.
It was Yukimura who reached out first as they shook hands. Echizen and Yukimura then turned and retreated to their respective baselines.
Oishi had played the previous match, back on the Terra-type planet that had hosted the fourth leg. He and Eiji had claimed a victory against Rikkai’s supposedly invincible doubles. Now he had to sit back and watch. He’d placed his faith in Echizen, he just had to trust him to see it through.
* * * * * * *
The statistics flowed automatically to the front of Yukimura’s brain as he settled into a crouch, attention fixed on the expressionless figure opposite him. They had prepared for this match, as they prepared for all others. Rikkai’s victory would have no flaws.
Echizen Ryoma: 15 years old, 160cm, left handed, raised on the low-oxygen, medium-g planet of Trin - the same as Yukimura himself -...
He knew Echizen. He knew his tennis, his background, his winning record. The last time they played, Echizen had edged him out but this time Yukimura knew he could win.
Echizen bounced the ball, tossed it high above the court; Yukimura’s eyes tracked it carefully, flexing his feet as he readied himself to respond. It was a low gravity planet. That meant that when the rally started...
Yukimura leapt forwards, racket up to meet the ball as his eyes laboured to focus on the blurred streak of green. It was a - thwack! - strange sensation - thwack! - to find someone who could match him - crash! - leap for leap.
They paused to watch the ball ricochet off the walls, zigzagging out of the top of the stadium.
“Mada mada,” he heard Echizen mutter.
Yukimura’s own mouth quirked. Yes, that hadn’t been the finest example of Echizen’s control. In low gravity, your mistakes were displayed for the universe to see. “Careful, Echizen-kun,” he said, smile unconcealed. “You’re not a junior anymore - there’s no safety net in this tournament. It wouldn’t do for you to wash out too early.”
Echizen walked away in silence.
Love-fifteen.
Yukimura observed Echizen’s form carefully. As Echizen’s arm reached the top of its arc, Yukimura was springing into the air to catch the twist serve before the bounce shot the ball out of his reach.
Love-thirty.
“Heh,” Echizen said, bouncing a ball on his racket as they waited for the sign to start the next point. “Looks like you’ve improved a bit.”
Yukimura looked at him for a moment in stunned silence, then laughed. Only this rookie would dare to say that to him. Improved, yes, improved from being mere steps from a hospital bed. More than that, he was finally coming into his adult strength.
Yukimura lined up the next shot carefully. Getting the spin just right on this one was something he’d finally learned playing it Atobe. A sweep of his racket and it skidded across the court and hit the clear barrier in front of the Seigaku box with a crack! like a gunshot. He watched in grim satisfaction as one of the Seigaku members toppled backwards off the bench in a reflexive flinch.
Love-forty.
Echizen looked back towards the Seigaku box, fiddling with his visor in the reflex that Yukimura knew meant he was annoyed. His next serve wasn’t flashy, it was a flat-out body serve. Irritated indeed. Yukimura returned it with a grunt and they were off, in a furious rally, at a speed that had him pushing his body to its limits.
Game, Yukimura.
The cheers swelled around him, lifting him up. Yukimura strode around the court with grim determination to commence his own service game. He paused at the net to check his body-readings. All green, adrenaline high: as it should be. There would be no collapse in this game. At least, no collapse for him.
* * * * * * *
In his prime seat up in the stands, Atobe sat back in his seat. It appeared that was it. If Echizen couldn’t pick up his pace, he was going to be destroyed in the wave of Yukimura’s comeback victory.
It was disappointing, frankly.
Hyoutei had pushed Rikkai all the way in the previous round, had taken them to a tiebreak in the final match. If Seigaku was going to be pushed out at the last hurdle because they had to rely on a brat who was still riding the high from his victory three years ago...
Tezuka had the talent to play at this level. Tezuka, who’d got himself injured and out of the game until he had completed a course of serious rehab and possibly had surgery on his elbow. Tezuka had left behind Echizen and while Echizen’s previous victory was almost universally agreed to be a fluke, there had been signs that, given time, he’d be able to compete evenly with Yukimura. They both had the natural gifts but more than that - they had the same physique, had been raised in the same environment and had taken the tour by storm in a similar way. This though... Atobe crossed his arms in disgust. Not worth paying for the flight out here.
“Looks like it’s going to be Rikkai again,” Oshitari murmured, nonchalantly claiming Atobe’s own glass of wine.
“Mmm,” Atobe acknowledged.
“Shame - I think Yukimura’s the only one on the tour more annoying than Echizen. All that ‘losing is unacceptable’ and ‘we are kings’.”
Atobe didn’t answer, watching Yukimura’s progress around the court. They all had their motivational lines - Tezuka with his ‘don’t let your guard down’ and the like, and Oshitari would do better to simply say that he hadn’t appreciated losing to Rikkai. When it came down to it, what mattered was what happened on court in the traditions that had lasted for millennia.
Next year, Hiyoshi would bring the Hyoutei youth team through to fill the space that Rikkai would leave at the top of the tree and Atobe would step into the senior team to take on Rikkai’s demons there.
Atobe could beat Yanagi, that was a given. Sanada... he could match evenly. As for Yukimura, now that was the challenge. He had had his trainer start shifting his training to the next level already, so he’d be ready in time for the next tournament.
“I’ll put 100 credits on Yukimura to win,” Oshitari said, returning Atobe’s now empty glass to the table in front of them.
“As if I’d be foolish enough to take that bet. Not even Jiroh would be gullible enough for that one. Echizen only gets away with those last-minute comebacks once against each player - Yukimura’s waiting for him to move now.”
A girl screamed Yukimura’s name from behind them and they winced in unison. If Atobe’s father hadn’t insisted on him travelling incognito, it would be Atobe they were looking at, whether he was playing or not. A skinny brat like either of those two? Hmph.
“Yukimura’s serve. Now we’ll see what his level is.”
* * * * * * *
Tezuka stood at the back of the lounge in the rehab centre, behind the small crowd of other patients, watching the big screen that had been set up to allow them to watch the game.
When he stepped down as captain, Tezuka had told Oishi that Seigaku was strong, that the team would go on without him and fight their way to the highest levels of the tournament. He wasn’t sure that he’d believed it then but, as captain, it had been important to give them the motivation to succeed.
Watching the match broadcast gave him a different angle for analysis from watching them play live. From that angle, it was harder to work out Echizen’s mood without a clear view of his back and his. Yukimura was not hard to read - he wasn’t trying to hide his confidence.
Yukimura roared as he leapt forward into the serve. Tezuka watched, stony-faced, as the ball shot past Echizen. This was a fully-recovered Yukimura playing at the top of the game, challenging anyone to rise up against him. It was hard to watch and know that it would be a long time before Tezuka could answer that challenge.
Echizen had stepped up his game, had raised it beyond anyone else currently on the Seigaku team except possibly Fuji. It was clearly not enough. Echizen might manage what few of Yukimura’s opponents could and have the stamina to last out the game but he did not have the technique or the skill to match evenly with Yukimura. More than anything, he wished he could step forward, tap Echizen on the shoulder and thank Echizen for holding Tezuka’s place for him.
Tezuka planted his feet firmly on the ground and settled to watch until the end.
“Kunimitsu?” came a soft voice from beside him.
Without turning, Tezuka recognised the voice of a nurse from the rehab centre. He nodded politely then returned his attention to the screen.
“Is that one of your team?”
“I played for Seigaku,” he said shortly. “Echizen is playing in white and blue.”
“Ah, he’s not doing badly,” she said awkwardly. “He might still make a comeback.”
Tezuka looked at the screen, looked at Yukimura’s perfect form and even breathing. No, Echizen wasn’t there just yet. He still had many aspects that he would have to work on.
“He’s doing well,” was what he said. Echizen had years ahead of him in which to hold a team together and make a serious bid for the title with them. “However, Yukimura will win.”
“Oh,” she said, looking again at the screen. “I think the gym’s free, if you’d like to get ahead with your physio?”
Tezuka paused. It was clear that she didn’t understand.
“Thank you but I’ll stay here until my scheduled time, if it doesn’t inconvenience you.”
Tezuka was Echizen’s captain. He would be here for Echizen, on the other side of the galaxy, even when Echizen lost.
* * * * * * *
In the Seigaku box, Oishi was perched on the edge of his seat, fingers clenched tightly in the fabric of his trousers. Two sets down, three games to one down in the third... the situation wasn’t looking good for Echizen. Maybe it had been too much to ask for him to come straight into the tournament and be able to beat the top ranked player in his first year. Should he have asked Fuji to take this match instead, and played Echizen in the second singles match?
“It’s about time for a comeback, isn’t it Echizen?” Momo muttered. He was still in his seat but his feet were moving constantly. Had they not been visible to everyone, Oishi was sure Momo would have been pacing up and down. “You can’t let him win like this, you really can’t.”
Oishi’s eyes dropped to stare at his feet. Momo still believed that Echizen could win so why was Oishi, the captain, giving up?
“Shut up and let us watch, idiot,” Kaidoh snapped. Kaidoh’s eyes were fixed on the game, staring as though he were willing Echizen to get a move on.
“It’s just like last time,” Eiji said suddenly, grabbing at Oishi’s arm. “Yukimura was destroying him last time, before he got going. I think Echizen must like watching us worry about him.”
“Eiji!” Oishi protested. “There’s no one else quite like Yukimura on the tour - he was certain to need some time to adapt.”
Fuji turned to look at them, his expression unusually serious. “Echizen might be losing but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him play so well. We just have to hope he can evolve fast enough to catch Yukimura before the match ends.”
There was silence again as they turned back to watch. Fuji was right. Now that he looked, Oishi could see the speed of Echizen’s movements and the sharpness of his reactions increasing as he strove to match Yukimura’s pace. Tezuka had said once that that was what made Echizen so difficult an opponent, his ability to adapt to almost any situation.
Even so - Oishi winced as Echizen sprawled across the ground in a dive to reach a vicious drive - he wasn’t quite fast enough. Oishi really wasn’t sure that there was enough time left and, from his face, neither was Fuji.
Game Yukimura, four games to one in the third set. Yukimura leads, two sets to love.
Oishi straightened up and folded his arms, attempting to radiate an air of complete confidence in his player. Echizen would either make it or he wouldn’t. If Oishi could make even the slightest difference, if Echizen happened to glance their way and gain confidence from him, he would be sitting here, willing him to victory. Either way, Seigaku would be here, ready for him to return
* * * * * * *
Game Yukimura, 5 games to 1
Niou sat back on the bench, propping his legs up on Marui’s bag. There would be no comeback from wonder-kid this time - Yukimura had things well under control and it was clear that Echizen’s stamina was lagging. It was impressive that he’d lasted this long: Yukimura played at a pace far beyond anything Niou could manage.
“Niou, pay attention!” came the sharp reprimand from Sanada. Niou turned to grin at him.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he said, eyeing the bag of sweets that Marui was sharing with Akaya and wondering if it was worth the fuss to try and poach them. “When it gets to this stage, one opponent is much the same as another. It looks like Yukimura’s money is safe from my stomach.”
“Niou-kun,” Yagyuu said more softly from beside him. Niou sighed and turned back to the court. In the Seigaku box, behind Echizen, they were looking solemn. As they should be. No one had even expected them to get this far, though Niou had wondered what would happen if Fuji stepped up to the level everyone knew he was capable of.
Three years ago, that had been Rikkai watching their player lose. Back then, though, there had been a medical team standing by to whisk Yukimura away for a series of checks to make sure he hadn’t done himself permanent damage. It had been a very real possibility - Yukmura’s condition hadn’t been good and he had never known the meaning of restraint.
They didn’t need that sort of support today. Yukimura was at full strength - not even breathing heavily, by the looks of it - and in a mood to collect scalps. He had a loss to avenge, after all.
“That’s it then,” Yagyuu said as Yukimura served at match point. Niou nodded: neither of them believed that Echizen would be able to win the rally - he hadn’t taken a point in the last two service games.
Sanada grabbed Kirihara by the collar as he made a dash for the door without waiting for the official to call an end to the match. Idiot: that would have made a nice picture for the media, as Rikkai’s youngster plastered himself on the door that he had forgotten was safely locked during the match.
Game, set and match to Rikkai’s Yukimura Seiichi: 6-3, 6-2, 6-1.
The door in front of them slid open and they spilled out onto the court, Kirihara and Marui leading the charge, seizing Yukimura’s racket and tossing him up in the air, watching him float high above their heads in the low gravity. Niou thought absently that he could do the calculations, if he wanted, and work out exactly how high they could throw him.
The barriers shielding the spectators blurred and returned to their transparent state. Niou looked up and around at the faceless mass of people. It was probably a good thing that they never saw the crowds while they were playing.
“Looks like we did the triple at last,” Niou said. Yagyuu’s answering smile was sharp and triumphant. Niou swallowed the lump in his throat and allowed a grin to spread across his own face. “Oi, Yukimura! Drinks on me tonight!”