Fic: A Strange Kind of Combination [Niou, Marui]
Done for whisper132 for the tenifriends fic exchange.
This was the first POT long-fic I've ever written (since 'Inverse' was written after this; heck, it was a by-product of this, really) so I was nervous as to how this would be received. Thank you so much, dmjewelle and readerofasaph for helping me beta this piece of work! Also, thank you carneaglariel and iyori for checking parts of this out. *hugs the lot of you* ♥
Also, a random bit of trivia: This entire fic was written while listening to 'Blue Eyes Blue' by Eric Clapton. ;p
*Spoilers for Genius 321 onwards* Niou, Marui, gen. As Rikkai goes head to head with Nagoyaseitoku on the tennis court, Niou remembers the first time he played doubles.
A Strange Kind of Combination
It is a strange day today.
This revelation quivers through them even as they stand at the net, silent, facing the latest in a line of rivals since entering the National stage. The sun is unusually fierce without its usual lining of gauzy clouds, and sweat trickles down necks to soak into collars even before the first match has begun. Perhaps, he thinks, it is as eager as they were to see how all this works out. Perhaps it is just there, just as all their rivals and spectators are, to watch the play, the show, unaware of the coup they are planning to pull off. Perhaps.
The person he’s facing grins at him and he reads his expression effortlessly, almost automatically. Here is one who is openly underestimating them; it’s in his eyes, the way he’s standing, with one hand on his hip, already declaring their win to all watching.
He catches his eye and smirks back, wide and gleeful and waiting. Two can play at that game, and he’s the closest there is to a qualified expert when it comes to the players.
Yagyuu’s face is passive beside his, a blank slate devoid of readable emotion. Still, he feels the detached amusement radiating off his doubles partner; his will be the first move in this charade, the match that sets the mood, that sparks off the uncertainty and doubts.
Marui and Jackal will only solidify what Yagyuu leads their opponents and those gathered around the stands to believe.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yukimura step forward to shake the other captain’s hand. His hand is almost swallowed up, engulfed in the bigger one and a ripple runs through their opponent; one guffaws out loud and all their gazes snap as one towards the perpetrator of the insult. He can’t see it, but he knows Sanada’s eyes are narrowed and Yanagi’s eyes have opened slightly.
His smirk only widens and the familiar ‘Puri’ slips out without warning.
Yukimura is saying something; snatches of words float past his ears about having a good game and the like. Useless words, the type that one says just to be polite. There are times when Yukimura has actually meant them; this isn’t one of those times.
There’s not a person on their team who isn’t an exchange student.
Fools.
On his left, Marui pops an insolent bubble and shifts from foot to foot. “Stop grinning so widely, idiot.”
He ignores the red-hair player, mostly because Marui didn’t mean it. They are all slightly restless and the heat isn’t helping anyone.
Their opponent’s captain is replying in a slow drawl that’s anything but a Japanese accent, his words even more insincere than Yukimura’s. He’ll be displeased to learn of that later.
Not that it matters anyway - this whole affair has already displeased their captain even before they’ve raised as much as a racket. It’s the only reason why he had assented to this plan in the first place. If this is to be a farce, we might as well get something good out of this. What do you say, Renji? Genichirou?
A low growl flits by on the brief breeze; Kirihara’s clearly agitated, barely constrained, possibly wanting to wring a neck or two for all the nuances of the disparaging exchange. Good.
The two captains rejoin the lines of their respective teams, dissolving them to return to the benches. Yagyuu wastes no time in warming up, each exercise done meticulously and carefully, almost as if he is going to take the match seriously. He pokes him in the shoulder, hard and Yagyuu says, without ceasing his stretching or looking up,
“You don’t have to remind me, Niou.”
He laughs silently, the reverberations pent up, echoing soundlessly within him. “I know.”
Leaving his doubles partner to his own thoughts, he makes his way over to where the others are gathered near the bleachers, where Kirihara’s anger becomes louder and louder with each step. Yukimura is already seated in the coach’s place, smiling serenely, anything but. Behind him, Sanada is a silent sentinel.
Niou deliberately walks heavily as he approaches, lifting one hand to swat Kirihara around the head. It is enough; Kirihara’s glares at him, but he is effectively silenced, if only sullenly. Jackal sighs once and glances at his hand, flexing it thoughtfully.
Marui doesn’t even look up, fingers absently pulling on the grip tape of his racket. Another gum-bubble emerges, pops, deflates. Niou easily drops into the seat beside his and turns to study him appraisingly.
“You’re scared.”
The answer comes a little too quickly. “A genius like me is never scared. Shut up.”
Niou laughs, loudly enough that even their opponents turn to stare from the other side of the court. “Nice try.”
He grips Marui’s shoulder anyway, squeezes it once almost as if in reassurance. Only it’s Niou, and reassuring isn’t a word one could pin on Niou Masaharu.
“Don’t screw up. Do it like how we used to; how hard can that be?”
Marui’s lips quirk slightly. “That was your fault. We would’ve won more often if you hadn’t sucked so badly.”
“Don’t shift the blame.” Niou stretches luxuriously and gets back up to his feet. “It wasn’t my fault you didn’t know how to play doubles properly.”
“Actually, the two of you were equally unskilled at doubles,” an amused voice interrupts their conversation. “I would mention that you two were amongst the worst doubles pair I’ve seen, but I’m not given to exaggeration.”
“Gee thanks, Yanagi,” Marui grumbles, shooting the data master a disgruntled look. “You can’t deny that I’m a genius in doubles now anyway.”
“Not anymore,” Yanagi says agreeably. “Still, you and Niou use to be a particularly volatile combination. Your matches were always entertaining to observe, if only for data purposes. Surely you can’t have already forgotten?”
Shifting his gaze over to the courts where Yagyuu’s match is just about to begin, Niou grimaces. “Spare me the details, Yanagi.” But already his mind is wandering, because Yanagi is always infuriatingly accurate that way and the memories aren’t so shallow to be lost so easily amongst the others.
-
Marui doesn’t meet Niou for the first time on the courts.
No, it’s in the classroom when he first catches sight of the white hair, so blindingly stark against the sea of dark heads bobbing into the classroom that he blinks involuntarily when he first sees it. He himself stands out with his own red shade and can’t help but feel slightly put-out at being so easily overshadowed.
As it turns out, it isn’t the only thing the boy does to separate him from the others within the course of the day. By the time classes let out for break, their entire class is whispering about the kid who had the nerve to flick a spitball at the teacher when her back was turned.
He’s more impressed at the accuracy than the act itself; managing to hit Sensei’s back squarely in the center when he’s sitting amongst the back row is a pretty mean feat.
Not that he’d say that out loud.
His shoulder bumps Niou’s in the rush to exit the classroom. “Oops. Sorry, my bad.”
The casual apology goes unheeded, and Niou’s eyes flicker over him cursorily before moving on. He thinks he hears the other boy mutter something, but with the buzz of chatter enveloping them, he can’t be sure. Either way, he’s affronted at being ignored so pointedly.
There are other more interesting things to think of though, and he quickly forgets this passing slight when he sees the variety of sweets offered by the cafeteria staff. Needless to say, he heads back to class, chewing exuberantly on newly bought bubble gum, pockets jammed with Pocky.
Math comes and goes, as did the rest of the lessons; studying, Marui concludes, is much more palatable with the taste of strawberry lingering in one’s mouth. He ducks over his book and discreetly snaps his gum as his pencil runs across the page in an attempt to keep up with the notes given. The occasional spitball flies above his head now and then, but, if the bad aim is anything to go by, it definitely isn’t Niou’s handiwork.
When the bell signals the end of lessons for the day, he lingers behind to avoid the rush to the door, munches on the remainder sticks of slightly-crushed Pocky instead as he swings his legs aimlessly from his seat on the desk.
He’s not prepared for the forcible bump against his shoulder that almost unseats him; he grimaces slightly, one hand reaching up to rub at the sore area as he glares at the smirking boy whose hair seems almost translucent where the sun fans across it.
“There,” says Niou. “We’re even.”
Then he reaches out, pulls a Pocky from the box in Marui’s hand and as far as Marui is concerned, they aren’t even at all.
That day, Marui is late for the first ever tennis club practice of the season, sporting a few additional bruises along with the aching shoulder.
Niou, his uniform only slightly disheveled, is already there.
-
Yagyuu’s match is flawless in its imperfections, from the slightly-too-slow shots down the worried twist of lips as another return bounces just outside of the line. The spectators groan, gripe, shout encouragement at all the right times, even better than if Niou had cued them.
Jackal is leaning against the wall, watching the match intently, perhaps picking up pointers to use in his own match later. Kirihara is relentless in his support; even now, Niou can hear him yelling to Yagyuu to ‘use your Laser, sempai! Beat him senseless!’
Marui chuckles under his breath. “Think he’ll ever get over it when he finds out?”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“Heh.”
The match is at an artfully constructed three-to-one when Marui abruptly gets up, fingers uncurling from the fist by his side. Niou sees indents where fingernails had bit into flesh and stands as well. Yanagi glances briefly at them, as does Jackal; Kirihara’s too intent on the match to notice.
“I’m going to warm up; get ready.”
A brief smile flits across Yanagi’s face, settles on his lips. “I believe that’s Marui’s line, Niou.”
Marui looks somewhat put-out and Jackal’s eyes flicker between him and the currently unfolding game on the court. Yanagi solves matters easily enough though. “I believe I’ll observe this match for a little while longer; Jackal, if you would practice with me later?...”
As Jackal nods, Niou shoulders his racket and begins climbing the stairs. He doesn’t have to turn around to know that Marui’s following, if lagging a few steps behind. Grinning to himself, he says, loud enough to carry, “Some of us are a little sluggish today, aren’t we?”
And suddenly, Marui’s in step with him, grumbling about stupid tricksters as he easily bounds up the last step and reaches the top before him.
-
Tennis practice is a bore at times.
He swings his racket half-heartedly for the fifty-fifth (fifty-sixth? Seventh?) time in a row, wondering if it is possible to get a knee cramp before his hand gives out.
On the court directly before him, a newly-instated Regular player dashes to receive a smash and, with pinpoint precision, slams it back where his opponent can’t reach it. Some of the seniors openly gawk as the first year walks back to the base line and resumes his position, smiling all the while.
Lucky him, being able to play real matches while the rest of them run through boring drills.
But then again, even Marui, genius extraordinaire has to acknowledge that Yukimura Seiichi is good. Very good. Better than good.
As are Sanada Genichirou and Yanagi Renji; the other two occupy the farthest court from the first-years, playing against each other in a fierce showdown that has some of the seniors surreptitiously stealing looks at it. A few of them talk amongst themselves and he picks up a few words here and there about the irregularity of it all and how more than a few people were taken back by the sudden decision. After all, who’s ever heard of first-years being Regulars?...
The vice-captain calls out for them to switch drills and Marui straightens up and vows to get on the Regulars before the year is over.
//
He’s part of the group assigned to keep the tennis balls that day; groaning internally at the thought, he sets to work, carelessly tossing them into the basket as he moves around the courts. Across him, a dark-skinned boy works more meticulously, if just as fast and as reluctantly.
The sun is a pale orange by the time they are done, the last ball a fuzzy sphere within his hand. The other boy - Jackal, he thinks he’s called - looks enquiringly at him when he doesn’t move to drop it into the basket with the others.
“I’ll keep the rest of it,” Marui tells him. “You can go now.”
Jackal takes off without hesitation - the day is getting late after all - and Marui’s left with a basketful of tennis balls, his bag and more than a handful of pent-up restlessness.
The balls spirals in the air as he tosses it up, catches it once.
When it enters the air for a second time, it’s no longer fingers that reach up to greet it, but the strings of a worn tennis racket.
He doesn’t know exactly how long he’s played nor wonder at whether he’ll get into trouble for using the school court long after practice has ended without permission. But as the mesh door creaks open, his eyes darts towards the newcomer, an excuse at the ready should it be the captain, all disapproval and stern lines, who’s discovered him.
But it isn’t the captain.
“So, how about playing a real game?” Niou’s racket swings within a loose grip as he steps unto the clay floor, his rakish smirk visible even from a court away. “I’m damned well better than that wall.”
And, even though he’s panting and sweating and his arm ached from fatigue, Marui feels an answering grin tug across his own face. “You’re on.”
-
He effortlessly returns Marui’s serve, noting as the volley specialist pauses momentarily before dashing to the front of the net to receive his return. He’ll go left, which would leave an opening on the…
The ball smashes deep into the right side of the court, just slightly out of Marui’s reach. He grunts and picks himself off the ground, dusting off his uniform as he blows a gum bubble, pops it and blows another.
“You’ve certainly gotten the losing part down pat,” Niou remarks breezily and Marui shoots him a dirty look. The next serve barrels across the net harder, but he had anticipated it and sends it soaring, seemingly into the sky until gravity pulls it down and towards Marui’s waiting racket.
As the ball brushes the net, Niou watches as it travels along the thin margin briefly before falling into his side of the court. Straightening, Marui grins smugly. “How’s that for genius?”
“Puri.”
Marui’s eyes narrows then and the match begins in earnest. On the court, there is no place for uncertainty or mistakes; either one could cost you the game and inevitably, the match.
And, even as he runs to reach a particularly high shot, Niou observes Marui, notes the flash of fierce enjoyment that he knows is mirrored on his own face. If Marui was strained earlier, it is something already forgotten as he backpedals in anticipation of Niou’s shot.
He doesn’t know if he had intended it to say it out loud, but his words ring in his ears as he reaches upwards. “Any of this seem familiar, Marui?”
The other laughs in between pants as he waits for Niou’s serve, hunched over, waiting. “It’s going to be my win this time!”
“Heh, we’ll see about that.”
-
“Doubles?” Marui repeats doubtfully. “I don’t know; working with another person might mess up my genius moves.”
Closing his notebook, Yanagi chuckles. “On the contrary, I believe it might be otherwise. Having a doubles partner to work with will likely provide you with more opportunities to display your techniques.”
“Still…”
“We need doubles players,” Yukimura interrupts smilingly, leaning over the desk. “We’ve covered all the Singles spots, but we need good doubles pairs to ensure victory in the Nationals.”
Looking back and forth between Yukimura and Yanagi, Marui’s eyes narrow. “Okay, hold on a minute here. We’re all still first years, never mind that you two are Regulars. You don’t have the authority to say who gets to join the Regulars or play doubles or-”
“That will not be a problem,” Yanagi assures him, straightening up. “There will be a rankings match within the next week or so to select the members who will represent Rikkai in the Nationals. If you can win a doubles match against the seniors then, it’s more than likely that you and your doubles partner will be entered as Regulars to participate in the upcoming matches.”
Undecided, Marui blows a thoughtful gum-bubble.
“Look,” a deep voice says, tired of the whole discussion, “It’s been fifteen minutes; we’ll be late for class. If he doesn’t want to enter doubles, it’s not our place to force him to. Let’s just leave and forget this whole matter.”
“But Sanada…”
Getting decisively to his feet, Marui pops his bubble, glaring at Sanada. “I’ll do it.”
“That’d be great, Marui-kun.” Yukimura’s smile is brilliant. “We’ll see you and your doubles partner during practice then.”
As the three students exit the classroom amidst the interested looks and whispers, Marui leans back in his chair and wonders exactly what he had gotten himself into.
That and who he could possibly ask to play doubles with him.
//
“Remind me how the hell I was coerced into this again.”
“Because,” Marui grunts as he slams another ball against the wall, “You want to be a Regular member too, idiot.”
Leaping backwards to intercept the rebound, he stumbles into Niou who had been moving to the center to do the exact same thing. They sprawl over in a spectacular heap as the tennis ball bounces dismally to a stop somewhere out of sight.
“This,” Niou hisses as he untangles himself and gets to his feet, “is ridiculous, stupid and an utter waste of my time.”
“It’s not my fault you keep trying to go for my shots!” Marui snaps back as he clambers back up as well, not bothering to dust himself off. “Stick to your area and I’ll stick to mine.”
“So says the person who keeps blocking me from hitting.”
“You suck at doubles!”
“Oh, that’s a nice one coming from someone who doesn’t know what the word means!”
They both glower at each other furiously, green eyes boring into red, shoulders heaving from two hours worth of exertion at attempting ‘doubles practice’. Then, Marui sighs, lifts his head to look at the sky, eyes searching the horizon as he asks,
“What are we doing?”
Niou shrugs nonchalantly, almost as if he hadn’t been irate only two minutes ago. “Not playing doubles.”
“For sure.” He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, firm on not allowing another sigh to escape his lips. “Okay, look; this shouldn’t be so hard. I mean, I’m a genius tennis player and you, you are…what do they call you again?...”
“The Trickster.” Niou laughs mirthlessly, one hand slung against his hip. “Like that’ll do them any good.”
“Right, the Trickster. We should be able to do this easily enough.” He draws in a deep breath, exhales it in a puff of frustration. “This shouldn’t be so hard.”
“We can’t even win against a wall.”
“Look,” Marui repeated again, stressing on the word. “All we have to do is win, what, two matches against the seniors?” He sighs before realizing it, then clicks his tongue in annoyance. “We won’t be beating Yukimura or Sanada, or even Yanagi anytime soon and you know that; our best hope as of now is to secure places on the team as potential doubles players. We’ll figure out how to sort out this mess _after_ we’ve gotten on the Regulars team, alright?”
He levels a steady look at Niou. “But first, we have to actually qualify as Regulars.”
The white-haired tennis player is silent for awhile; Marui tries to figure out the expression hovering on the edge of his features, fails at least twice.
Then, abruptly, Niou strides out to the open court, away from the wall, pausing only to retrieve the tennis ball from where it had rolled to. Marui stares at him in confusion. “Oi, where are you going? We’re supposed to be practis-”
Niou only stops when he’s reached the outlines of the court, turning back to face him. “You said you wanted to play doubles, right?”
His eyes glimmer in the evening sun. “Then, you should damned well know how I play first. One-set match, you against me, all the stops out. Every last one of them.”
“Then we’ll see what we can do about doubles.”
-
Somewhere along the lines, they lose count of the score.
All Niou knows is that he’s currently in the lead when he smashes another ace past Marui’s defense. The score is quickly evened though as Marui pulls another of his ‘genius skills’ into use, watching as the tennis ball pings with pin point precision off the pole and into the court with obvious satisfaction.
Damn, he’s still familiar with several of Niou’s few weak spots. And is all too aware of it, if that grin is anything to go by.
“You know,” Marui calls out, in between harsh breathing almost laced with triumph, “I think I remember someone once saying something about ‘knowing how he damned well played’ or something of the like. Who do you suppose it is?”
The rapid serve is unexpected and Marui dives to reach the ball, barely reaching it in time to wildly slash at it.
“Perhaps,” Niou drawls as the ball hits the net and rolls back into Marui’s court, “it’s the same person who seems to be a little too slow for his own good today.”
Muttering, Marui gets up to his feet and shoots Niou a dirty look. Even so, the comment latches onto his mind as he tosses the ball in the air once for good measure, twice for the serve. Perhaps, he thinks as the racket comes down on the spinning sphere, perhaps Marui is wandering down memory lane, just as he is.
He almost snorts out loud. Damn Yanagi and his observations. Sometimes.
Then the serve is whirling, soaring and Marui is there, ready, waiting, anticipating and there is nothing else but the game.
-
Marui blinks, frozen mid-bite as the boy across him adjusts his glasses. “Say that again?”
Yagyuu’s eyes are calm from behind the oval frames as he surveys his fellow Regular on the tennis team. “I’ve seen the line-up, Marui-kun, even double-checked it. Niou-kun and I are playing Doubles One in the first match.”
Fingers tighten compulsively around the sandwich, unheeding of the tuna dripping out through the sides. “Then what about-?”
“You are in Doubles Two with Jackal.” Even amidst the buzz of noise and chatter, Yagyuu’s voice is too clear, too concise. The look on his face is serious; not that Marui’s taken him otherwise.
Dropping his lunch, Marui pushes back his chair, hungry completely forgotten. “Excuse me. I think I have a bone to go pick with someone.”
And as he makes to move towards the direction of the exit, Yagyuu says, without turning. “You’ll probably find him on the rooftop. He’s been loitering around up there very often lately.”
//
It’s almost been a full year, he realizes as he steers himself towards the stairs, through the students heading in the opposite direction. A year of playing doubles with Niou. They’ve never quite meshed; that even he acknowledged to himself, but still.
They were good (‘are’ good, he corrects himself, irritated that one part of his mind is already slowly adapting to the thought). Good enough to have trounced the senior players in the first official doubles match they had played despite several disastrous displays during practice sessions. Good enough to have repeated their performance more than once after that.
True, they still play singles whenever they can, but they are growing into doubles players and pretty good ones at that. He doesn’t think it’s just him when he’s able to intuitively move out of the way for his doubles partner to advance to the front. And being able to know when to expect your partner to cover for you - that definitely came with practice.
And he had really planned to fix that small flaw within their doubles play by the next practice. That and the other, almost inconsequential one. Really.
“‘Small flaw?’” Niou will scoff later, mildly derisive, “It was practically inviting the opponents to score against us.”
But ‘later’ has not its place in the present and his footsteps clatter an agitated rhythm across the concrete steps leading to the roof.
-
The ball practically leaps into his outstretched hand, warm from the friction of tennis and fuzzy even as it slowly rotates to a stop between long fingers.
“That’s enough of warm ups,” he hears himself say, hollow within the pounding in his ears, “Wouldn’t do for us to get worn out before the actual thing, would it?”
“Wuss.” But Marui seems all too willing to cease the match the match as well. There’re both panting slightly now, adrenaline still strumming its heady rush through veins as they grin at each other across the net.
Almost like before, only older now, wiser, more experienced.
If Yukimura were to suddenly reshuffle the entire line-up and throw them back into a doubles pair now, he has no doubt that they would be able to form a more-than-efficient combination, that they would be almost unbeatable, that (his lips twists wryly at the thought) those ‘small flaws’ of yesteryears would be all but existent.
But they wouldn’t be at their optimum level of performance. One can’t shove two pieces of a puzzle together after all if they’re not made to fit.
In the end, Yukimura had known best when he had approached Niou all those years ago with his request to switch partners.
It would be in everybody’s best interest, Niou - have you seen his practices with Jackal recently? Theirs is a more cohesive partnership than yours. You two are good, make no mistake about that.
But, those two, they would be better.
Niou was disbelieving, scornful; flatly refused Yukimura’s ‘suggestion’, openly despising it. That is, he did so until he saw it during practice; how Jackal so easily compensated for all Marui’s weak spots, how Marui himself secured all the weaknesses their own doubles play had suffered from.
Then he despised himself for being so blind.
So much for being the Trickster who notices everything down to the minute detail.
Marui had initiated the beginning of their doubles pair; Niou had been the one to dissolve the partnership. It was the best course of action for both of them - he realizes the truth of this in the first ever match he played with Yagyuu and realized that doubles was suddenly a lot easier with so much more potential than he had originally thought it to have.
Neither has ever said it out loud, except for that one, final time on the rooftop of Rikkai Dai, but both know it to be true.
Nevertheless, tennis aside, there are some things that run deeper than the game, that didn’t quite dissipate along with their doubles combo; he smirks when Marui rolls his shoulder blades, the last traces of tension bled out of him during the course of the match. He is still aware of certain quirks Marui has that on occasion, tend to betray what the red-head is actually feeling.
Like how Marui toys with his grip tape whenever he feels particularly bothered by something.
He understand it well enough though; in Rikkai’s tennis team, the pressure to win is a given, almost an intangible part of tennis itself, something ingrained into all of them the minute they signed up to enter the club.
But this time, they aren’t aiming for the win in doubles. No, the point now is to lose, with enough finesse and flair that their opponents won’t catch on.
And losing isn’t a part of a genius’ repertoire.
-
“Okay, let me get this straight; you want Jackal and me to lose. On purpose.”
Niou claps his hands exaggeratedly. “Congratulations, you’ve finally caught on.”
“Get serious. You’re planning something stupid again, aren’t you? As if the Switch wasn’t enough already-”
“I’ve run it past Yukimura yesterday; he agreed it would be interesting, enough so to actually try out.” Niou frowns slightly. “He did insist that the idea be refitted with an educational motive though, which is Akaya’s going to be-”
“How about starting from the beginning?” he interrupts, blowing a gum bubble and popping it in annoyance. “You know, where you elaborate on exactly what this whole mess is about?”
Arching an eyebrow, Niou chuckles. “I thought you’d be enough of a genius to be able to figure it out already.”
“Well, if you want this genius in your trick,” he grumbles, disgruntled, “You’d better be more elaborate within the next thirty seconds.”
Niou takes it a step further; the next fifteen minutes are spent explaining Yanagi’s data on the other team (to which Marui responds with an impatient, “As if we all didn’t know that; just cut to the chase already!”), mapping out the rough outlines of the scheme and how it is to be accomplished. As he listens, Marui’s face changes from suspicion to incredulousness before hovering on the border between thoughtfulness and amusement.
“I don’t know; letting everything rest on Akaya’s sound a little risky to me. I mean, how will we know if he’ll deliver? And I, for one, would very much like to get into the Finals, thank you very much.”
He shrugs, a languid movement that travels easily down both shoulders. “We will.” Simple, clear and absolute.
“You do know you’re going to have to run this by Jackal as well, right?”
“He said it’s your call last time I checked in with him.”
It takes Marui some time to make up his mind - Niou counts at least three gum-bubbles, four if he includes the one that deflates before it was properly out of his mouth. When he does, it’s with a crooked grin.
“I guess I can count that old favor returned now, huh?”
-
“We thought you might welcome a few additional players.”
Niou lifts a hand in acknowledgement as Yanagi approaches, Jackal in tow. “Seems like you’re running a little late, Yanagi.”
“We utilized a different court earlier.” Looking vaguely amused, Yanagi looks down at the both of them, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “I take it you two had a fairly vigorous warm-up?”
“I’m still game for a Round Two,” Marui grins, bumping fists with Jackal. “That’s of course, if you two can handle it?”
“I think some people are just dying for a lesson in doubles, aren’t they Yanagi?”
“I wouldn’t be averse to extra practice.” Yanagi chuckles. “I believe we should be getting back to the rest soon though.”
“We won’t go too hard on you,” Jackal says, laughing when Niou looks disgusted.
“While I appreciate the sentiment, Jackal, I believe we’ll have to see exactly who’ve exerted themselves more afterwards.”
“Hey,” Niou smirks, even as he lazily stretches, “I’m feeling so generous, I’ll even let you guys have the serve.”
“Hey,” Marui replies with a cocky grin, “Don’t blame us when you lose.”
-
The bus ride is when Yanagi ‘reveals’ the information on their opponents - Kirihara is the only one who surges to his feet, disbelief and indignation written into the lines of his face.
“That’s cheating! Can’t they be disqualified, Yanagi-sempai?”
When Yanagi shakes his head and starts reeling off an explanation as to why, Marui schools his expression into one of displeasure. He’d practiced it in front of the mirror right before he left the house and is pretty sure that he had nailed it.
“You look like a constipated bovine.”
“Shut up,” he answers automatically under his breath as the look gains a more realistic edge. “You’re in the backseat anyway; how the heck would you know?”
Niou chuckles, the airy tone of it low enough that Kirihara, engrossed in his ire, doesn’t notice. “You’re a lousy actor.”
Jackal gives him an apologetic look from the seat beside him. “You do look kind of weird, Marui.”
Slumping in his seat, Marui mumbles something about everybody being against him. Niou’s probably the textbook picture of resentment in the seat behind, slouched over and moody. He’s seen him emulate that expression before in front of others; the results it’s produced has amused them both on more than one occasion.
His mind wandering, he stares out the window, glimpsing flashes of his reflection amidst the rush of gray and greens of the scenery outside. They’re going to win again today.
He, on the other hand, is going to lose. Lose to win, he thinks and smiles wryly at the thought. It’s a new concept, one he would rather not get acquainted with at all.
A movement dart across the glass and he breaks off the train of thought to glance at the window again. Half of Niou’s reflection greets him, the other half hidden by the plush cushions of his bus seat. Kirihara’s still ranting, his voice getting more and more strident with each word.
He grimaces at Niou-in-the-window; Niou laughs, silently as his head gets obscured in the red of a signboard outside as the bus stops at an intersection.
You don’t look good with red hair, he mouths, grinning.
Niou’s eyes flickers outside at the stop sign. Puri.
Then, Sanada’s voice cuts through the noise, effectively silencing Kirihara, Yukimura stands up to say something and Marui adverts his attention over to the captain as he starts to speak.
-
“What took you guys so long?” is the first demand that tumbles out of Kirihara in a rush of agitated words when they return to the courts. “Those assholes are practically wiping the court with Yagyuu-sempai!”
Niou glances peremptorily at the scoreboard as Yanagi murmurs, “Two to five; I hadn’t expected this.”
Only he had, a week ago. Marui’s face begins to look slightly constipated again and Jackal’s brow furrows. Sanada is a silent pillar up front, solid and steady even as Rikkai’s dominance seems to crack and crumble before his watchful gaze.
As Yagyuu’s last shot goes out of bounds, the referee calls out “Game and match: Nagoyaseitoku, six games to two!” The crowd starts murmuring, a sea of surprise and shock as whispers lap back and forth amongst the spectators like waves in the afternoon sun.
Nagoyaseitoku exchange grins amongst themselves, high-fiving the player that rejoins them. Yagyuu walks in their direction as well, shoulders straight, if heaving slightly from the exertion of the match and head up. Yukimura stands up to meet him, says something to him and Yagyuu answers before moving off towards the stands.
Niou meets him halfway. “That went well.”
Then only does Yagyuu smiles, sharp and knowing, his back turned away from the public and Kirihara. “Had you expected otherwise?”
He doesn’t answer, because no answer is needed.
Marui stretches then and snaps his gum. “Well, it’s showtime for us now. Let’s go, Jackal.”
Jackal nods and the seizing their rackets, the two of them clamber down to the renewed calls of ‘Always win Rikkai Dai!’, louder and infused with more conviction than before.
“Oi.”
Marui turns back briefly, and his grin is as sharp as Yagyuu’s as he pops his gum. “Have some faith, won’t you? This genius has the game plan down pat.”
Then he’s gone, no longer a spectator but a part of the game and its rules as he takes his place beside Jackal. Because, even if the end has already been preplanned, the tennis itself is not, because it is unpredictable, has always been. And the tennis today…the tennis will be brilliant, at its best even with the shadow of a loss looming behind.
Some people in the crowd are already surging to their feet, roaring their support of Rikkai’s famed Doubles Two pair, invincible in the face of all the matches they’ve played so far. Surely they won’t be defeated today?
Niou knows otherwise, but he’s not telling.
And, watching them stand there, proud and reckless and ready, he smirks to himself as Yagyuu comes to stand beside him, Yanagi to his left and thinks that in the end, they managed to sort out the mess pretty well after all.
owari
This was the first POT long-fic I've ever written (since 'Inverse' was written after this; heck, it was a by-product of this, really) so I was nervous as to how this would be received. Thank you so much, dmjewelle and readerofasaph for helping me beta this piece of work! Also, thank you carneaglariel and iyori for checking parts of this out. *hugs the lot of you* ♥
Also, a random bit of trivia: This entire fic was written while listening to 'Blue Eyes Blue' by Eric Clapton. ;p
*Spoilers for Genius 321 onwards* Niou, Marui, gen. As Rikkai goes head to head with Nagoyaseitoku on the tennis court, Niou remembers the first time he played doubles.
A Strange Kind of Combination
It is a strange day today.
This revelation quivers through them even as they stand at the net, silent, facing the latest in a line of rivals since entering the National stage. The sun is unusually fierce without its usual lining of gauzy clouds, and sweat trickles down necks to soak into collars even before the first match has begun. Perhaps, he thinks, it is as eager as they were to see how all this works out. Perhaps it is just there, just as all their rivals and spectators are, to watch the play, the show, unaware of the coup they are planning to pull off. Perhaps.
The person he’s facing grins at him and he reads his expression effortlessly, almost automatically. Here is one who is openly underestimating them; it’s in his eyes, the way he’s standing, with one hand on his hip, already declaring their win to all watching.
He catches his eye and smirks back, wide and gleeful and waiting. Two can play at that game, and he’s the closest there is to a qualified expert when it comes to the players.
Yagyuu’s face is passive beside his, a blank slate devoid of readable emotion. Still, he feels the detached amusement radiating off his doubles partner; his will be the first move in this charade, the match that sets the mood, that sparks off the uncertainty and doubts.
Marui and Jackal will only solidify what Yagyuu leads their opponents and those gathered around the stands to believe.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yukimura step forward to shake the other captain’s hand. His hand is almost swallowed up, engulfed in the bigger one and a ripple runs through their opponent; one guffaws out loud and all their gazes snap as one towards the perpetrator of the insult. He can’t see it, but he knows Sanada’s eyes are narrowed and Yanagi’s eyes have opened slightly.
His smirk only widens and the familiar ‘Puri’ slips out without warning.
Yukimura is saying something; snatches of words float past his ears about having a good game and the like. Useless words, the type that one says just to be polite. There are times when Yukimura has actually meant them; this isn’t one of those times.
There’s not a person on their team who isn’t an exchange student.
Fools.
On his left, Marui pops an insolent bubble and shifts from foot to foot. “Stop grinning so widely, idiot.”
He ignores the red-hair player, mostly because Marui didn’t mean it. They are all slightly restless and the heat isn’t helping anyone.
Their opponent’s captain is replying in a slow drawl that’s anything but a Japanese accent, his words even more insincere than Yukimura’s. He’ll be displeased to learn of that later.
Not that it matters anyway - this whole affair has already displeased their captain even before they’ve raised as much as a racket. It’s the only reason why he had assented to this plan in the first place. If this is to be a farce, we might as well get something good out of this. What do you say, Renji? Genichirou?
A low growl flits by on the brief breeze; Kirihara’s clearly agitated, barely constrained, possibly wanting to wring a neck or two for all the nuances of the disparaging exchange. Good.
The two captains rejoin the lines of their respective teams, dissolving them to return to the benches. Yagyuu wastes no time in warming up, each exercise done meticulously and carefully, almost as if he is going to take the match seriously. He pokes him in the shoulder, hard and Yagyuu says, without ceasing his stretching or looking up,
“You don’t have to remind me, Niou.”
He laughs silently, the reverberations pent up, echoing soundlessly within him. “I know.”
Leaving his doubles partner to his own thoughts, he makes his way over to where the others are gathered near the bleachers, where Kirihara’s anger becomes louder and louder with each step. Yukimura is already seated in the coach’s place, smiling serenely, anything but. Behind him, Sanada is a silent sentinel.
Niou deliberately walks heavily as he approaches, lifting one hand to swat Kirihara around the head. It is enough; Kirihara’s glares at him, but he is effectively silenced, if only sullenly. Jackal sighs once and glances at his hand, flexing it thoughtfully.
Marui doesn’t even look up, fingers absently pulling on the grip tape of his racket. Another gum-bubble emerges, pops, deflates. Niou easily drops into the seat beside his and turns to study him appraisingly.
“You’re scared.”
The answer comes a little too quickly. “A genius like me is never scared. Shut up.”
Niou laughs, loudly enough that even their opponents turn to stare from the other side of the court. “Nice try.”
He grips Marui’s shoulder anyway, squeezes it once almost as if in reassurance. Only it’s Niou, and reassuring isn’t a word one could pin on Niou Masaharu.
“Don’t screw up. Do it like how we used to; how hard can that be?”
Marui’s lips quirk slightly. “That was your fault. We would’ve won more often if you hadn’t sucked so badly.”
“Don’t shift the blame.” Niou stretches luxuriously and gets back up to his feet. “It wasn’t my fault you didn’t know how to play doubles properly.”
“Actually, the two of you were equally unskilled at doubles,” an amused voice interrupts their conversation. “I would mention that you two were amongst the worst doubles pair I’ve seen, but I’m not given to exaggeration.”
“Gee thanks, Yanagi,” Marui grumbles, shooting the data master a disgruntled look. “You can’t deny that I’m a genius in doubles now anyway.”
“Not anymore,” Yanagi says agreeably. “Still, you and Niou use to be a particularly volatile combination. Your matches were always entertaining to observe, if only for data purposes. Surely you can’t have already forgotten?”
Shifting his gaze over to the courts where Yagyuu’s match is just about to begin, Niou grimaces. “Spare me the details, Yanagi.” But already his mind is wandering, because Yanagi is always infuriatingly accurate that way and the memories aren’t so shallow to be lost so easily amongst the others.
-
Marui doesn’t meet Niou for the first time on the courts.
No, it’s in the classroom when he first catches sight of the white hair, so blindingly stark against the sea of dark heads bobbing into the classroom that he blinks involuntarily when he first sees it. He himself stands out with his own red shade and can’t help but feel slightly put-out at being so easily overshadowed.
As it turns out, it isn’t the only thing the boy does to separate him from the others within the course of the day. By the time classes let out for break, their entire class is whispering about the kid who had the nerve to flick a spitball at the teacher when her back was turned.
He’s more impressed at the accuracy than the act itself; managing to hit Sensei’s back squarely in the center when he’s sitting amongst the back row is a pretty mean feat.
Not that he’d say that out loud.
His shoulder bumps Niou’s in the rush to exit the classroom. “Oops. Sorry, my bad.”
The casual apology goes unheeded, and Niou’s eyes flicker over him cursorily before moving on. He thinks he hears the other boy mutter something, but with the buzz of chatter enveloping them, he can’t be sure. Either way, he’s affronted at being ignored so pointedly.
There are other more interesting things to think of though, and he quickly forgets this passing slight when he sees the variety of sweets offered by the cafeteria staff. Needless to say, he heads back to class, chewing exuberantly on newly bought bubble gum, pockets jammed with Pocky.
Math comes and goes, as did the rest of the lessons; studying, Marui concludes, is much more palatable with the taste of strawberry lingering in one’s mouth. He ducks over his book and discreetly snaps his gum as his pencil runs across the page in an attempt to keep up with the notes given. The occasional spitball flies above his head now and then, but, if the bad aim is anything to go by, it definitely isn’t Niou’s handiwork.
When the bell signals the end of lessons for the day, he lingers behind to avoid the rush to the door, munches on the remainder sticks of slightly-crushed Pocky instead as he swings his legs aimlessly from his seat on the desk.
He’s not prepared for the forcible bump against his shoulder that almost unseats him; he grimaces slightly, one hand reaching up to rub at the sore area as he glares at the smirking boy whose hair seems almost translucent where the sun fans across it.
“There,” says Niou. “We’re even.”
Then he reaches out, pulls a Pocky from the box in Marui’s hand and as far as Marui is concerned, they aren’t even at all.
That day, Marui is late for the first ever tennis club practice of the season, sporting a few additional bruises along with the aching shoulder.
Niou, his uniform only slightly disheveled, is already there.
-
Yagyuu’s match is flawless in its imperfections, from the slightly-too-slow shots down the worried twist of lips as another return bounces just outside of the line. The spectators groan, gripe, shout encouragement at all the right times, even better than if Niou had cued them.
Jackal is leaning against the wall, watching the match intently, perhaps picking up pointers to use in his own match later. Kirihara is relentless in his support; even now, Niou can hear him yelling to Yagyuu to ‘use your Laser, sempai! Beat him senseless!’
Marui chuckles under his breath. “Think he’ll ever get over it when he finds out?”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“Heh.”
The match is at an artfully constructed three-to-one when Marui abruptly gets up, fingers uncurling from the fist by his side. Niou sees indents where fingernails had bit into flesh and stands as well. Yanagi glances briefly at them, as does Jackal; Kirihara’s too intent on the match to notice.
“I’m going to warm up; get ready.”
A brief smile flits across Yanagi’s face, settles on his lips. “I believe that’s Marui’s line, Niou.”
Marui looks somewhat put-out and Jackal’s eyes flicker between him and the currently unfolding game on the court. Yanagi solves matters easily enough though. “I believe I’ll observe this match for a little while longer; Jackal, if you would practice with me later?...”
As Jackal nods, Niou shoulders his racket and begins climbing the stairs. He doesn’t have to turn around to know that Marui’s following, if lagging a few steps behind. Grinning to himself, he says, loud enough to carry, “Some of us are a little sluggish today, aren’t we?”
And suddenly, Marui’s in step with him, grumbling about stupid tricksters as he easily bounds up the last step and reaches the top before him.
-
Tennis practice is a bore at times.
He swings his racket half-heartedly for the fifty-fifth (fifty-sixth? Seventh?) time in a row, wondering if it is possible to get a knee cramp before his hand gives out.
On the court directly before him, a newly-instated Regular player dashes to receive a smash and, with pinpoint precision, slams it back where his opponent can’t reach it. Some of the seniors openly gawk as the first year walks back to the base line and resumes his position, smiling all the while.
Lucky him, being able to play real matches while the rest of them run through boring drills.
But then again, even Marui, genius extraordinaire has to acknowledge that Yukimura Seiichi is good. Very good. Better than good.
As are Sanada Genichirou and Yanagi Renji; the other two occupy the farthest court from the first-years, playing against each other in a fierce showdown that has some of the seniors surreptitiously stealing looks at it. A few of them talk amongst themselves and he picks up a few words here and there about the irregularity of it all and how more than a few people were taken back by the sudden decision. After all, who’s ever heard of first-years being Regulars?...
The vice-captain calls out for them to switch drills and Marui straightens up and vows to get on the Regulars before the year is over.
//
He’s part of the group assigned to keep the tennis balls that day; groaning internally at the thought, he sets to work, carelessly tossing them into the basket as he moves around the courts. Across him, a dark-skinned boy works more meticulously, if just as fast and as reluctantly.
The sun is a pale orange by the time they are done, the last ball a fuzzy sphere within his hand. The other boy - Jackal, he thinks he’s called - looks enquiringly at him when he doesn’t move to drop it into the basket with the others.
“I’ll keep the rest of it,” Marui tells him. “You can go now.”
Jackal takes off without hesitation - the day is getting late after all - and Marui’s left with a basketful of tennis balls, his bag and more than a handful of pent-up restlessness.
The balls spirals in the air as he tosses it up, catches it once.
When it enters the air for a second time, it’s no longer fingers that reach up to greet it, but the strings of a worn tennis racket.
He doesn’t know exactly how long he’s played nor wonder at whether he’ll get into trouble for using the school court long after practice has ended without permission. But as the mesh door creaks open, his eyes darts towards the newcomer, an excuse at the ready should it be the captain, all disapproval and stern lines, who’s discovered him.
But it isn’t the captain.
“So, how about playing a real game?” Niou’s racket swings within a loose grip as he steps unto the clay floor, his rakish smirk visible even from a court away. “I’m damned well better than that wall.”
And, even though he’s panting and sweating and his arm ached from fatigue, Marui feels an answering grin tug across his own face. “You’re on.”
-
He effortlessly returns Marui’s serve, noting as the volley specialist pauses momentarily before dashing to the front of the net to receive his return. He’ll go left, which would leave an opening on the…
The ball smashes deep into the right side of the court, just slightly out of Marui’s reach. He grunts and picks himself off the ground, dusting off his uniform as he blows a gum bubble, pops it and blows another.
“You’ve certainly gotten the losing part down pat,” Niou remarks breezily and Marui shoots him a dirty look. The next serve barrels across the net harder, but he had anticipated it and sends it soaring, seemingly into the sky until gravity pulls it down and towards Marui’s waiting racket.
As the ball brushes the net, Niou watches as it travels along the thin margin briefly before falling into his side of the court. Straightening, Marui grins smugly. “How’s that for genius?”
“Puri.”
Marui’s eyes narrows then and the match begins in earnest. On the court, there is no place for uncertainty or mistakes; either one could cost you the game and inevitably, the match.
And, even as he runs to reach a particularly high shot, Niou observes Marui, notes the flash of fierce enjoyment that he knows is mirrored on his own face. If Marui was strained earlier, it is something already forgotten as he backpedals in anticipation of Niou’s shot.
He doesn’t know if he had intended it to say it out loud, but his words ring in his ears as he reaches upwards. “Any of this seem familiar, Marui?”
The other laughs in between pants as he waits for Niou’s serve, hunched over, waiting. “It’s going to be my win this time!”
“Heh, we’ll see about that.”
-
“Doubles?” Marui repeats doubtfully. “I don’t know; working with another person might mess up my genius moves.”
Closing his notebook, Yanagi chuckles. “On the contrary, I believe it might be otherwise. Having a doubles partner to work with will likely provide you with more opportunities to display your techniques.”
“Still…”
“We need doubles players,” Yukimura interrupts smilingly, leaning over the desk. “We’ve covered all the Singles spots, but we need good doubles pairs to ensure victory in the Nationals.”
Looking back and forth between Yukimura and Yanagi, Marui’s eyes narrow. “Okay, hold on a minute here. We’re all still first years, never mind that you two are Regulars. You don’t have the authority to say who gets to join the Regulars or play doubles or-”
“That will not be a problem,” Yanagi assures him, straightening up. “There will be a rankings match within the next week or so to select the members who will represent Rikkai in the Nationals. If you can win a doubles match against the seniors then, it’s more than likely that you and your doubles partner will be entered as Regulars to participate in the upcoming matches.”
Undecided, Marui blows a thoughtful gum-bubble.
“Look,” a deep voice says, tired of the whole discussion, “It’s been fifteen minutes; we’ll be late for class. If he doesn’t want to enter doubles, it’s not our place to force him to. Let’s just leave and forget this whole matter.”
“But Sanada…”
Getting decisively to his feet, Marui pops his bubble, glaring at Sanada. “I’ll do it.”
“That’d be great, Marui-kun.” Yukimura’s smile is brilliant. “We’ll see you and your doubles partner during practice then.”
As the three students exit the classroom amidst the interested looks and whispers, Marui leans back in his chair and wonders exactly what he had gotten himself into.
That and who he could possibly ask to play doubles with him.
//
“Remind me how the hell I was coerced into this again.”
“Because,” Marui grunts as he slams another ball against the wall, “You want to be a Regular member too, idiot.”
Leaping backwards to intercept the rebound, he stumbles into Niou who had been moving to the center to do the exact same thing. They sprawl over in a spectacular heap as the tennis ball bounces dismally to a stop somewhere out of sight.
“This,” Niou hisses as he untangles himself and gets to his feet, “is ridiculous, stupid and an utter waste of my time.”
“It’s not my fault you keep trying to go for my shots!” Marui snaps back as he clambers back up as well, not bothering to dust himself off. “Stick to your area and I’ll stick to mine.”
“So says the person who keeps blocking me from hitting.”
“You suck at doubles!”
“Oh, that’s a nice one coming from someone who doesn’t know what the word means!”
They both glower at each other furiously, green eyes boring into red, shoulders heaving from two hours worth of exertion at attempting ‘doubles practice’. Then, Marui sighs, lifts his head to look at the sky, eyes searching the horizon as he asks,
“What are we doing?”
Niou shrugs nonchalantly, almost as if he hadn’t been irate only two minutes ago. “Not playing doubles.”
“For sure.” He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, firm on not allowing another sigh to escape his lips. “Okay, look; this shouldn’t be so hard. I mean, I’m a genius tennis player and you, you are…what do they call you again?...”
“The Trickster.” Niou laughs mirthlessly, one hand slung against his hip. “Like that’ll do them any good.”
“Right, the Trickster. We should be able to do this easily enough.” He draws in a deep breath, exhales it in a puff of frustration. “This shouldn’t be so hard.”
“We can’t even win against a wall.”
“Look,” Marui repeated again, stressing on the word. “All we have to do is win, what, two matches against the seniors?” He sighs before realizing it, then clicks his tongue in annoyance. “We won’t be beating Yukimura or Sanada, or even Yanagi anytime soon and you know that; our best hope as of now is to secure places on the team as potential doubles players. We’ll figure out how to sort out this mess _after_ we’ve gotten on the Regulars team, alright?”
He levels a steady look at Niou. “But first, we have to actually qualify as Regulars.”
The white-haired tennis player is silent for awhile; Marui tries to figure out the expression hovering on the edge of his features, fails at least twice.
Then, abruptly, Niou strides out to the open court, away from the wall, pausing only to retrieve the tennis ball from where it had rolled to. Marui stares at him in confusion. “Oi, where are you going? We’re supposed to be practis-”
Niou only stops when he’s reached the outlines of the court, turning back to face him. “You said you wanted to play doubles, right?”
His eyes glimmer in the evening sun. “Then, you should damned well know how I play first. One-set match, you against me, all the stops out. Every last one of them.”
“Then we’ll see what we can do about doubles.”
-
Somewhere along the lines, they lose count of the score.
All Niou knows is that he’s currently in the lead when he smashes another ace past Marui’s defense. The score is quickly evened though as Marui pulls another of his ‘genius skills’ into use, watching as the tennis ball pings with pin point precision off the pole and into the court with obvious satisfaction.
Damn, he’s still familiar with several of Niou’s few weak spots. And is all too aware of it, if that grin is anything to go by.
“You know,” Marui calls out, in between harsh breathing almost laced with triumph, “I think I remember someone once saying something about ‘knowing how he damned well played’ or something of the like. Who do you suppose it is?”
The rapid serve is unexpected and Marui dives to reach the ball, barely reaching it in time to wildly slash at it.
“Perhaps,” Niou drawls as the ball hits the net and rolls back into Marui’s court, “it’s the same person who seems to be a little too slow for his own good today.”
Muttering, Marui gets up to his feet and shoots Niou a dirty look. Even so, the comment latches onto his mind as he tosses the ball in the air once for good measure, twice for the serve. Perhaps, he thinks as the racket comes down on the spinning sphere, perhaps Marui is wandering down memory lane, just as he is.
He almost snorts out loud. Damn Yanagi and his observations. Sometimes.
Then the serve is whirling, soaring and Marui is there, ready, waiting, anticipating and there is nothing else but the game.
-
Marui blinks, frozen mid-bite as the boy across him adjusts his glasses. “Say that again?”
Yagyuu’s eyes are calm from behind the oval frames as he surveys his fellow Regular on the tennis team. “I’ve seen the line-up, Marui-kun, even double-checked it. Niou-kun and I are playing Doubles One in the first match.”
Fingers tighten compulsively around the sandwich, unheeding of the tuna dripping out through the sides. “Then what about-?”
“You are in Doubles Two with Jackal.” Even amidst the buzz of noise and chatter, Yagyuu’s voice is too clear, too concise. The look on his face is serious; not that Marui’s taken him otherwise.
Dropping his lunch, Marui pushes back his chair, hungry completely forgotten. “Excuse me. I think I have a bone to go pick with someone.”
And as he makes to move towards the direction of the exit, Yagyuu says, without turning. “You’ll probably find him on the rooftop. He’s been loitering around up there very often lately.”
//
It’s almost been a full year, he realizes as he steers himself towards the stairs, through the students heading in the opposite direction. A year of playing doubles with Niou. They’ve never quite meshed; that even he acknowledged to himself, but still.
They were good (‘are’ good, he corrects himself, irritated that one part of his mind is already slowly adapting to the thought). Good enough to have trounced the senior players in the first official doubles match they had played despite several disastrous displays during practice sessions. Good enough to have repeated their performance more than once after that.
True, they still play singles whenever they can, but they are growing into doubles players and pretty good ones at that. He doesn’t think it’s just him when he’s able to intuitively move out of the way for his doubles partner to advance to the front. And being able to know when to expect your partner to cover for you - that definitely came with practice.
And he had really planned to fix that small flaw within their doubles play by the next practice. That and the other, almost inconsequential one. Really.
“‘Small flaw?’” Niou will scoff later, mildly derisive, “It was practically inviting the opponents to score against us.”
But ‘later’ has not its place in the present and his footsteps clatter an agitated rhythm across the concrete steps leading to the roof.
-
The ball practically leaps into his outstretched hand, warm from the friction of tennis and fuzzy even as it slowly rotates to a stop between long fingers.
“That’s enough of warm ups,” he hears himself say, hollow within the pounding in his ears, “Wouldn’t do for us to get worn out before the actual thing, would it?”
“Wuss.” But Marui seems all too willing to cease the match the match as well. There’re both panting slightly now, adrenaline still strumming its heady rush through veins as they grin at each other across the net.
Almost like before, only older now, wiser, more experienced.
If Yukimura were to suddenly reshuffle the entire line-up and throw them back into a doubles pair now, he has no doubt that they would be able to form a more-than-efficient combination, that they would be almost unbeatable, that (his lips twists wryly at the thought) those ‘small flaws’ of yesteryears would be all but existent.
But they wouldn’t be at their optimum level of performance. One can’t shove two pieces of a puzzle together after all if they’re not made to fit.
In the end, Yukimura had known best when he had approached Niou all those years ago with his request to switch partners.
It would be in everybody’s best interest, Niou - have you seen his practices with Jackal recently? Theirs is a more cohesive partnership than yours. You two are good, make no mistake about that.
But, those two, they would be better.
Niou was disbelieving, scornful; flatly refused Yukimura’s ‘suggestion’, openly despising it. That is, he did so until he saw it during practice; how Jackal so easily compensated for all Marui’s weak spots, how Marui himself secured all the weaknesses their own doubles play had suffered from.
Then he despised himself for being so blind.
So much for being the Trickster who notices everything down to the minute detail.
Marui had initiated the beginning of their doubles pair; Niou had been the one to dissolve the partnership. It was the best course of action for both of them - he realizes the truth of this in the first ever match he played with Yagyuu and realized that doubles was suddenly a lot easier with so much more potential than he had originally thought it to have.
Neither has ever said it out loud, except for that one, final time on the rooftop of Rikkai Dai, but both know it to be true.
Nevertheless, tennis aside, there are some things that run deeper than the game, that didn’t quite dissipate along with their doubles combo; he smirks when Marui rolls his shoulder blades, the last traces of tension bled out of him during the course of the match. He is still aware of certain quirks Marui has that on occasion, tend to betray what the red-head is actually feeling.
Like how Marui toys with his grip tape whenever he feels particularly bothered by something.
He understand it well enough though; in Rikkai’s tennis team, the pressure to win is a given, almost an intangible part of tennis itself, something ingrained into all of them the minute they signed up to enter the club.
But this time, they aren’t aiming for the win in doubles. No, the point now is to lose, with enough finesse and flair that their opponents won’t catch on.
And losing isn’t a part of a genius’ repertoire.
-
“Okay, let me get this straight; you want Jackal and me to lose. On purpose.”
Niou claps his hands exaggeratedly. “Congratulations, you’ve finally caught on.”
“Get serious. You’re planning something stupid again, aren’t you? As if the Switch wasn’t enough already-”
“I’ve run it past Yukimura yesterday; he agreed it would be interesting, enough so to actually try out.” Niou frowns slightly. “He did insist that the idea be refitted with an educational motive though, which is Akaya’s going to be-”
“How about starting from the beginning?” he interrupts, blowing a gum bubble and popping it in annoyance. “You know, where you elaborate on exactly what this whole mess is about?”
Arching an eyebrow, Niou chuckles. “I thought you’d be enough of a genius to be able to figure it out already.”
“Well, if you want this genius in your trick,” he grumbles, disgruntled, “You’d better be more elaborate within the next thirty seconds.”
Niou takes it a step further; the next fifteen minutes are spent explaining Yanagi’s data on the other team (to which Marui responds with an impatient, “As if we all didn’t know that; just cut to the chase already!”), mapping out the rough outlines of the scheme and how it is to be accomplished. As he listens, Marui’s face changes from suspicion to incredulousness before hovering on the border between thoughtfulness and amusement.
“I don’t know; letting everything rest on Akaya’s sound a little risky to me. I mean, how will we know if he’ll deliver? And I, for one, would very much like to get into the Finals, thank you very much.”
He shrugs, a languid movement that travels easily down both shoulders. “We will.” Simple, clear and absolute.
“You do know you’re going to have to run this by Jackal as well, right?”
“He said it’s your call last time I checked in with him.”
It takes Marui some time to make up his mind - Niou counts at least three gum-bubbles, four if he includes the one that deflates before it was properly out of his mouth. When he does, it’s with a crooked grin.
“I guess I can count that old favor returned now, huh?”
-
“We thought you might welcome a few additional players.”
Niou lifts a hand in acknowledgement as Yanagi approaches, Jackal in tow. “Seems like you’re running a little late, Yanagi.”
“We utilized a different court earlier.” Looking vaguely amused, Yanagi looks down at the both of them, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “I take it you two had a fairly vigorous warm-up?”
“I’m still game for a Round Two,” Marui grins, bumping fists with Jackal. “That’s of course, if you two can handle it?”
“I think some people are just dying for a lesson in doubles, aren’t they Yanagi?”
“I wouldn’t be averse to extra practice.” Yanagi chuckles. “I believe we should be getting back to the rest soon though.”
“We won’t go too hard on you,” Jackal says, laughing when Niou looks disgusted.
“While I appreciate the sentiment, Jackal, I believe we’ll have to see exactly who’ve exerted themselves more afterwards.”
“Hey,” Niou smirks, even as he lazily stretches, “I’m feeling so generous, I’ll even let you guys have the serve.”
“Hey,” Marui replies with a cocky grin, “Don’t blame us when you lose.”
-
The bus ride is when Yanagi ‘reveals’ the information on their opponents - Kirihara is the only one who surges to his feet, disbelief and indignation written into the lines of his face.
“That’s cheating! Can’t they be disqualified, Yanagi-sempai?”
When Yanagi shakes his head and starts reeling off an explanation as to why, Marui schools his expression into one of displeasure. He’d practiced it in front of the mirror right before he left the house and is pretty sure that he had nailed it.
“You look like a constipated bovine.”
“Shut up,” he answers automatically under his breath as the look gains a more realistic edge. “You’re in the backseat anyway; how the heck would you know?”
Niou chuckles, the airy tone of it low enough that Kirihara, engrossed in his ire, doesn’t notice. “You’re a lousy actor.”
Jackal gives him an apologetic look from the seat beside him. “You do look kind of weird, Marui.”
Slumping in his seat, Marui mumbles something about everybody being against him. Niou’s probably the textbook picture of resentment in the seat behind, slouched over and moody. He’s seen him emulate that expression before in front of others; the results it’s produced has amused them both on more than one occasion.
His mind wandering, he stares out the window, glimpsing flashes of his reflection amidst the rush of gray and greens of the scenery outside. They’re going to win again today.
He, on the other hand, is going to lose. Lose to win, he thinks and smiles wryly at the thought. It’s a new concept, one he would rather not get acquainted with at all.
A movement dart across the glass and he breaks off the train of thought to glance at the window again. Half of Niou’s reflection greets him, the other half hidden by the plush cushions of his bus seat. Kirihara’s still ranting, his voice getting more and more strident with each word.
He grimaces at Niou-in-the-window; Niou laughs, silently as his head gets obscured in the red of a signboard outside as the bus stops at an intersection.
You don’t look good with red hair, he mouths, grinning.
Niou’s eyes flickers outside at the stop sign. Puri.
Then, Sanada’s voice cuts through the noise, effectively silencing Kirihara, Yukimura stands up to say something and Marui adverts his attention over to the captain as he starts to speak.
-
“What took you guys so long?” is the first demand that tumbles out of Kirihara in a rush of agitated words when they return to the courts. “Those assholes are practically wiping the court with Yagyuu-sempai!”
Niou glances peremptorily at the scoreboard as Yanagi murmurs, “Two to five; I hadn’t expected this.”
Only he had, a week ago. Marui’s face begins to look slightly constipated again and Jackal’s brow furrows. Sanada is a silent pillar up front, solid and steady even as Rikkai’s dominance seems to crack and crumble before his watchful gaze.
As Yagyuu’s last shot goes out of bounds, the referee calls out “Game and match: Nagoyaseitoku, six games to two!” The crowd starts murmuring, a sea of surprise and shock as whispers lap back and forth amongst the spectators like waves in the afternoon sun.
Nagoyaseitoku exchange grins amongst themselves, high-fiving the player that rejoins them. Yagyuu walks in their direction as well, shoulders straight, if heaving slightly from the exertion of the match and head up. Yukimura stands up to meet him, says something to him and Yagyuu answers before moving off towards the stands.
Niou meets him halfway. “That went well.”
Then only does Yagyuu smiles, sharp and knowing, his back turned away from the public and Kirihara. “Had you expected otherwise?”
He doesn’t answer, because no answer is needed.
Marui stretches then and snaps his gum. “Well, it’s showtime for us now. Let’s go, Jackal.”
Jackal nods and the seizing their rackets, the two of them clamber down to the renewed calls of ‘Always win Rikkai Dai!’, louder and infused with more conviction than before.
“Oi.”
Marui turns back briefly, and his grin is as sharp as Yagyuu’s as he pops his gum. “Have some faith, won’t you? This genius has the game plan down pat.”
Then he’s gone, no longer a spectator but a part of the game and its rules as he takes his place beside Jackal. Because, even if the end has already been preplanned, the tennis itself is not, because it is unpredictable, has always been. And the tennis today…the tennis will be brilliant, at its best even with the shadow of a loss looming behind.
Some people in the crowd are already surging to their feet, roaring their support of Rikkai’s famed Doubles Two pair, invincible in the face of all the matches they’ve played so far. Surely they won’t be defeated today?
Niou knows otherwise, but he’s not telling.
And, watching them stand there, proud and reckless and ready, he smirks to himself as Yagyuu comes to stand beside him, Yanagi to his left and thinks that in the end, they managed to sort out the mess pretty well after all.
owari