Beyond: A Tribute - Part 8 (Prince of Tennis)
© 2009 Gold
Title: Beyond: A Tribute
Part 8: The Wheels Begin To Turn
Author: Gold
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of Prince of Tennis . It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.
Notes:
The U.S.A. Academy of Tennis is a fictional creation of my overactive imagination.
Part Eight: The Wheels Begin To Turn
Within Japan’s tennis circles, some folks reckoned that Ryuzaki Sumire was the grand old dame of Japanese tennis. Even the elite old men who ran Japan’s top tennis management like their own old boys’ club had to grudgingly acknowledge her as Someone. In terms of credentials, she had nearly thirty years’ worth of coaching and playing tennis competitively under her belt. In terms of stature, she had always been amongst the handful of female pioneers who fought against the constrictions of tradition and history, just to earn the right to stand there amongst men and to play the game of tennis. She could have run for any number of positions in the executive council of the National Tennis Association of Japan (NTAJ). But for all her burnished credentials, Ryuzaki Sumire had been persona non grata with the NTAJ top brass for a very long time.
More than twenty years ago, Ryuzaki Sumire had stormed into the office of the then-president of the NTAJ and raised hell, because the NTAJ had decided to award its annual scholarship to the U.S.A. Academy of Tennis (Florida campus) to the eighteen-year-old son of the NTAJ vice-president. Witnesses reported that Ryuzaki’s voice could be heard all the way down the corridor outside the president’s office and all across the office floor. People actually poked their heads out of the conference rooms and office cubicles to find out what was going on, and they managed to hear a lot. Ryuzaki-sensei was furious: her student, fifteen-year-old Echizen Nanjirou, far outstripped the field of shortlisted candidates in every way. At fifteen, he had already defeated - repeatedly, mind you - the top players in the three age groups above him. There was no denying his genius. At fifteen, Japan was already too small to hold someone of his calibre. Yet he had been passed over, because his father wasn’t the vice-president of the NTAJ!
Normally, it would have been easy for the NTAJ to sweep this sort of thing under the carpet. Ryuzaki Sumire was very small fry and Echizen Nanjirou was a nobody, a tennis genius, maybe, but still only a very small boy. It just so happened, though, that on that very day, at the very same time that Ryuzaki and the NTAJ president were shouting angrily at each other, a couple of journalists who were waiting to interview the NTAJ president pricked up their ears.
A few days later, the NTAJ was somewhat stunned to discover that the sports journalists who had interviewed the NTAJ president had, instead of the standard glowing articles, written critical pieces about how the NTAJ scholarship to the U.S.A. Academy of Tennis (Florida campus) had been awarded-not to the most meritorious of the candidates, but to someone whose father was a high-ranking NTAJ executive. There was a fair amount of interest in this, especially amongst Japan’s tennis community. Echizen Nanjirou’s name was one that many within the tennis community had already heard of; some said that he was Japan’s answer to John McEnroe or Jimmy Connors (this was during the eighties). In the face of rising disapproval, and a realisation that this might not be so easily hushed up, the NTAJ executive body hastily moved to quell the furore by creating an additional scholarship, duly awarded to Echizen Nanjirou.
In time, Echizen Nanjirou would go on to become Japan’s most famous tennis star, fêted wherever he went. But of course, nobody knew that then, and it was Echizen Nanjirou’s teacher, Ryuzaki Sumire, who gained a reputation within the NTAJ as a troublemaker to be avoided at all costs.
For the next several years, Ryuzaki Sumire stayed as far away as possible from the NTAJ, except for the examination she underwent dutifully every two years to renew her coaching licence. The NTAJ, too, kept their distance from her. Even after Echizen Nanjirou gained fame and notoriety, the NTAJ and Ryuzaki maintained their relationship - or lack thereof - under a sort of armed neutrality.
So Ryuzaki had never thought that one day, she would have to darken the doors of the NTAJ headquarters once again - and this time, for the sake of yet another student of hers.
The NTAJ head office was spread over five floors of a modern office tower in Akasaka, Tokyo.
At twenty minutes to two on a hot Thursday afternoon, Ryuzaki Sumire stepped out of the lift on the eleventh floor, which was where the office of the president of the NTAJ, Watanabe Seiji, was located.
Ryuzaki Sumire was briefly acquainted with Watanabe, in a manner of speaking. More than twenty years ago, his father had been the vice-president of the NTAJ, and the scholarship that should have been given to Echizen Nanjirou had been awarded to him. He had become the NTAJ president less than five years ago, the youngest ever NTAJ president, in a hard-fought election in which he defeated the powerful NTAJ treasurer. Sasabe Tenzo, a wealthy businessman, was the treasurer of the NTAJ, a post which he had held for nearly fifteen years. Although Sasabe retained his position as treasurer, he kept his eye on the president’s seat and it was common knowledge that the NTAJ executive council was split into two different factions: the president’s faction and the treasurer’s faction. Each faction maintained various spheres of influence within the NTAJ, and spent all their time, money and efforts devoted to blocking each other’s initiatives. It was a classic study in Japanese politics.
Ryuzaki Sumire swiftly sized up the very pretty young woman blinking in a puzzled but welcoming fashion at her from behind the reception counter in the beautifully-designed foyer of the eleventh-floor offices of the NTAJ. On being told that Ryuzaki had no appointment, but nevertheless wished to see the NTAJ president, the young woman looked taken aback.
“Ma’am,” said the young receptionist, apologetically, “I’m so sorry, but you can’t see the president unless you have an appointment.”
Ryuzaki smiled at her in a harmless-grandmother fashion. “Oh, is that so? I am so sorry for having disturbed you.”
“Oh, not at all,” replied the young woman, bowing quickly and respectfully. “Would you like to leave your name and contact number? I can pass it to the president’s secretary.”
Ryuzaki continued beaming benignly. “Oh, no, no, no, no… it’s not necessary at all. Ah, I’ll just leave now.” She cocked her head. “By the way, is there a ladies’ room that I can use on this floor?”
Of course there was. The pretty receptionist was happy to be helpful and pointed the way to Ryuzaki, who thanked her heartily.
The old washroom trick always worked. Ryuzaki smiled grimly to herself as she headed down the corridor, towards the ladies’ room. Instead of taking the first turn right, as instructed by the receptionist, Ryuzaki headed straight down the corridor and took the second turn on the left instead, in the direction of the president’s office. She had barely turned the corner when she heard a loud thud, as if someone had smashed a piece of furniture. Ryuzaki immediately picked up her pace, trotting quickly down the corridor in the direction of the noise.
“Ma’am, you are…?” A young woman half-rose from behind the desk just outside the door marked with a heavy wooden nameplate set with shining brass letters: SEIJI WATANABE - PRESIDENT. “Wait…ma’am!”
It was too late.
The door was not locked; Ryuzaki applied some force and turned the knob with a dexterous twist.
In the next moment, she had stepped in.
There were four men in the room.
Behind the desk, Watanabe Seiji stood, a handsome, worried-looking man in his late forties; he was leaning on his hands, which were pressed against the surface of his desk.
Opposite Watanabe, his back to Ryuzaki and his face turned towards her in angry surprise at her appearance, was a ruddy-faced man, in his fifties; the sole distinctive feature on his face was a pair of very small, very sharp eyes. He was unknown to Ryuzaki.
Seated in the armchairs in the room, on opposite ends, were two other men.
One was Sasabe Tenzo, square-shouldered, dark-suited and wearing tinted-glasses that hid his eyes; he sat facing the door, his mouth set into an ugly sneer.
The other was Sasaki Tarou, who held no official position in the NTAJ.
The unknown man was the first to react. He glared furiously at Ryuzaki. “Who are you? What are you doing here? This is the president’s office! Get out!”
Ryuzaki advanced forward, meeting his rude stare with one of her own. “My name,” she said evenly, “is Ryuzaki Sumire.”
She watched with satisfaction as he seemed to falter a little. She might have been persona non grata to the NTAJ, but there were very few within the tennis community who were unaware of her-pioneer female coach, troublemaker, and one-time coach to some of the brightest stars in the tennis firmament both past and present. Echizen Nanjirou’s fame had gained her a certain measure of respect within Japan’s tennis community in generations past; the rise of Tezuka Kunimitsu and Echizen Ryoma had done the same for the present generation. “I am here to see President Watanabe.”
Watanabe Seiji straightened up. “Ryuzaki-san. Please wait outside for a little while. We are currently having a closed-door meeting.”
“I think not,” Ryuzaki told him, firmly. “I have had a very difficult time reaching anybody in the NTAJ who is willing to answer my questions-and I’m sure you know why I’m here, President Watanabe.”
From the armchair, Sasabe Tenzo gave a disparaging laugh. “Ryuzaki-san. I understand you must be here out of concern for your former student-Tezuka Kunimitsu, correct? But you have to understand-” He shrugged his shoulders. “With the leadership of the NTAJ under Watanabe, it will never-”
Ryuzaki interrupted him, a hard edge in her voice. “Sasabe-san, I have no interest in your ambitions.”
She might as well have slapped him in the face. Sasabe Tenzo flushed with anger and opened his mouth, but Ryuzaki barrelled on.
“I don’t need to remind you that it is your management agency, Sasabe Tenzo, that these boys signed up with.” Ryuzaki’s voice was cold. “Yet this very same agency has failed to protect the players under its charge!”
Two days ago, she had nearly gone up in smoke after seeing Tezuka Kunimitsu’s hastily-called press conference televised on the national news network. Tezuka’s display was impeccable, as were his careful, honest answers to the questions hurled his way. What made Ryuzaki absolutely furious was the fact that she saw, flanking Tezuka, every single Japanese player who was currently playing on the international courts-and not a single official from the management agency or from the National Tennis Association of Japan.
“Not a single staff member, Sasabe Tenzo.” Ryuzaki glared at him, unable to keep the rage out of her voice. “There is absolutely no excuse for this complete failure. Your management agency let a player face the international press alone! As a management agency, your first concern is the players and their welfare. This is the role of a manager. If the management agency cannot organise itself to provide support for a player during an emergency situation like this, then what is the management agency for? It might as well not be there at all!”
Sasabe Tenzo stood up. He took off his tinted sunglasses angrily. “My management agency did its best!” he spat. “If Tezuka Kunimitsu was foolish enough to take drugs, then there is nothing that can save him! You think he is innocent, Ryuzaki? Every single test came back positive-the laboratories don’t make a mistake in something like this! No doubt he wanted to be world champion pretty fast-well, this is where it gets him!”
There was a dead silence.
“Well, if you believe that,” Ryuzaki said disgustedly, “then there is no more to be said. It is no wonder that your agency was not able to help-not when they don’t even believe in the players they are supposed to manage. Based on that alone, Sasabe, I can tell you this-you are not fit to hold any office in this organisation, let alone the office of president.”
Sasabe was purple with rage. “I will not stay here to be insulted by you!” he shouted. He stalked towards the door and flung it open. Then he looked over his shoulder. “Mark my words, Watanabe, I will be president!”
Ryuzaki raised her voice to a near shout. “Then you mark my words, Sasabe Tenzo: run for president, and I will run, too-against you! And we will see whether a man who does not believe in Japan’s tennis players and who does not support them can become the president of the National Tennis Association of Japan!”
There was a brief moment of silence as the door slammed shut behind Sasabe.
President Watanabe looked around the room. “Ryuzaki-san-” he began.
“Don’t you start with me,” snapped Ryuzaki. “There was no one from the NTAJ there, at Tezuka’s press conference. Is it so difficult to have someone there? Those boys are out there alone! When they turned pro, the NTAJ pledged its support to them. This is the role of the NTAJ, as is the role of any national tennis federation in any country. It promotes tennis as a sport nationwide, nurtures talent, guides them to the world stage if necessary-and in this case, President Watanabe, the NTAJ promised that they would provide all the support and assistance to the players that was within its power. Where was this support and assistance when Tezuka Kunimitsu needed it the most?”
President Watanabe gestured unhappily. “Ryuzaki-san, you must understand the NTAJ’s position. We cannot take sides when the matter is something as serious as this. It is a strict liability offence under ATMP rules, which means that once the test is positive, regardless of whether the player is at fault for it or not, he must be immediately suspended, pending a hearing by the ATMP. The test results were incontrovertible, Ryuzaki. All three samples were positive. We must also answer, as a national tennis federation, to the ATMP and to tennis fans.”
Ryuzaki snorted. “You might as well tell me that you and Sasabe are on the same page for once. This is not a matter of taking sides, President Watanabe. I am not an old fool.” She folded her arms. “There are two principles here. First, Tezuka is innocent until proven guilty. Always, President Watanabe, even if the test is positive, and even if it is a case of strict liability.” She pursed her lips. “Second, support from the NTAJ does not involve officials going around declaring their belief in Tezuka’s innocence. All it requires is for someone, anyone at all, from the NTAJ, to be there, with him, see what he needs and make appropriate arrangements.”
The room was quiet.
Ryuzaki arched an eyebrow. “Well, now, I’ve said what I wanted to say. President Watanabe, it’s time you answered some of my questions. What happened? Why didn’t the NTAJ take charge, when the management failed? Don’t you have someone there?”
President Watanabe blinked. “We do-we did,” he said slowly. “But things were happening too fast, Ryuzaki.” He hesitated briefly. “This is Ito Matsuki.” He indicated the stout, ruddy-faced man. “He is our NTAJ representative. He was there, in America, until this morning, when his plane landed.”
Ito Matsuki bowed jerkily. “Ryuzaki-san.”
Ryuzaki returned his bow. “Ito-san.” She eyed him. “Maybe you can tell me what is going on-and why you’re here, instead of there.”
Ito Matsuki glanced at President Watanabe, who nodded slightly.
“I am not the person you should be talking to, Ryuzaki-san.” Ito sounded angry. “You should be talking to that so-called management team. I am attached there, as the NTAJ representative, but those people work for Sasabe Tenzo. They never let me know anything. I am always the last to know.” He paused and looked at Ryuzaki, scowling. “They are all your students?”
“… once. Not all of them are my students. Just a few. And it was a long time ago,” Ryuzaki replied, a little warily. “A very long time ago,” she added emphatically.
Ito Matsuki stared hard at her. “Well, Kaidoh Kaoru and Tezuka Kunimitsu are polite. They keep me updated. If they are your students, you taught them well. Can’t say the same for the rest.”
“…”
Ito pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am the only one from the NTAJ there. We pledged to give them support, but the management team always blocks me, always stops me from knowing things. When I complain, Sasabe says I’m picking a fight. Me, pick a fight! I have more important things to do with my time!” He gestured furiously. “I had to learn from the television, the radio and the newspapers about Tezuka Kunimitsu’s tests, you know? Nobody told me anything! Then when I went to find the management team, they wouldn’t tell me anything! That is normal behaviour, but I saw also that they wouldn’t do anything! You know what they said? No instructions. They said that they had no instructions. Pah!”
Ryuzaki narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, no instructions?”
“They take instructions from Sasabe probably,” said Ito impatiently. “It’s his management agency. But how would I know? I don’t work for him. Maybe this is so major that they have to call him and ask him how to handle matters. Anyway, you heard him just now. He doesn’t care at all! That’s his attitude!”
Ryuzaki tightened her grip on her temper. “You’re telling me that internal politics of the NTAJ has a hand in all this?”
Ito rolled his eyes in disgust. “Everybody knows, Ryuzaki-san. Sasabe spends his time creating fights with President Watanabe.” He thumped his chest with the flat of his palm. “I’m on nobody’s side here. I agreed to be the NTAJ representative, because I thought I could contribute. But Sasabe doesn’t like me, because President Watanabe appointed me as the NTAJ representative. He’s a parochial, short-sighted bastard, that one. If he runs for president, Ryuzaki, you’d better keep your promise and take him down.”
Ryuzaki’s mouth twitched slightly.
“It’s a circus out there,” Ito went on, his forehead wrinkling. “I tried to talk to the coaches, to the nutritionists, to the medical team to find out what was going on… The coaches and the nutritionists, I can understand. The management agency arranged for them to be hired. They’re not bad people, but they don’t dare to talk without the management’s say-so. The coaches say they just coach, the nutritionists say they just draw up the meals and monitor the situation. They say they don’t know anything. The medical team is our own, the NTAJ, but they don’t work properly either. One of them is Sasabe’s brother.” Ito’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “One of President Watanabe’s ideas. Trying to defuse tension by making people from both factions work together.”
President Watanabe had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
“Didn’t work,” Ito continued, with blatant disregard for the NTAJ president’s feelings. “Very useless doctor. No idea how he earned his medical degree-definitely not from Japan. Maybe he bought it in another country. Thick as thieves with Sasabe’s man - you know him, President Watanabe. Nishimura, the one with the ugly nose, who keeps flying in and out, pretending to manage the tennis players. There was one nutritionist I remember-new girl, very pretty. I think they hired her because of her looks. Actually, I think they hired all the nutritionists for their looks. Some of these nutritionists don’t know the difference between Vitamin B complex and Vitamin E complex-”
“You’re going off-tangent here,” Ryuzaki pointed out drily.
Ito blinked. “Oh. Yes. Anyway, with useless people like that, you can forget about them being any use if you want to find out anything. The other doctors and the medical assistants just concentrate on their work. They’re good for diagnosing illnesses, but that’s about it. They shut their ears to everything else.”
Ryuzaki shook her head grimly. “How long has this been going on? Why wasn’t anything done about it?”
Ito sniffed. “I’m the third NTAJ representative in the last three years. I’m neutral - I refuse to get involved in their stupid infighting. That’s why President Watanabe picked me - he tried to change things. My predecessors lasted less than half a year each.” He added, “And if we don’t do something about this soon - you’re going to have to find a fourth NTAJ representative.” He squared his shoulders. “Now, I took the first flight I could find to get back here, to tell President Watanabe everything I know about this.”
President Watanabe frowned. “Please stay on, Ito. I know it has been frustrating, because of Sasabe-san’s tactics, but you have been a good representative and we need you there to keep him from controlling the whole situation. I need you there.”
Ito waved his hands dismissively. “No need. There’s no point my staying there.” He nodded his head towards the fourth person in the room, who had been silent thus far. “His student - this boy called Atobe Keigo - just took charge and threw us all out. Rich, impudent brat, but it looks like he’s doing the right thing.” He looked beadily at Sakaki Tarou and Ryuzaki Sumire. “What have you been teaching your students?”
Ryuzaki glanced at Sakaki Tarou. She had not forgotten his presence in the room, but it had been secondary to what she was after.
Sakaki, naturally, did not deign to reply.
Ito scowled. “Well, anyway, I’m very happy with this Atobe Keigo. He can go and try to fix the mess-it’s his mess now, and I wish him joy of it.”
Ryuzaki’s mouth twitched again. “Well, he’s the Atobe son, you know, and he does have a reputation for getting his way.” And for getting things done.
Ito cocked an eye at her. “That one, eh? I thought it might be-certainly he behaved like an Atobe. Well, I don’t care who he is, as long as he can make Sasabe eat-”
“Yes, thank you, Ito,” President Watanabe interrupted swiftly, cutting him off. “That will be all.” His shoulders rose and sank briefly in a silent sigh. “What I’m more concerned with is that we seem to be cut off from the players in America. This is very worrying, particularly because of the new reports that Yukimura Seiichi is ill.”
Ito snorted irritably. “I’ve already told you, there’s no use my going back.” He shot a hard glance at Sasaki Tarou.
Sasaki Tarou ignored the other man and got to his feet. He limped over to President Watanabe and placed a soft leather suitcase on the president’s desk. Then, without saying a word, he returned to his armchair.
Ryuzaki watched curiously as President Watanabe opened the soft leather briefcase and pulled out two plain grey files. He flipped open the cover of the first file and scanned the contents.
Then he looked up, and he and Sasaki Tarou exchanged a long, meaningful look.
“What’s that you have?” Ito asked impatiently.
President Watanabe looked thoughtfully at the file. “I’m not sure,” he said carefully. “Certainly it does not have anything to do with how I can contact the players in America. But… it might be useful.”
Sasaki spoke shortly. “Back cover of the second file.”
President Watanabe did as he said, but as he opened the back of the second file, a small slip of paper fluttered out. The NTAJ president made a grab at it, but the resulting air current he caused made the paper float even further out-and it landed next to Ito’s left shoe.
Ito immediately snatched it up. “What’s this - Wakana Keisuke, Certified Public Accountant…?”
President Watanabe calmly extricated the piece of paper from Ito. “An old classmate of ours.”
Ours? Ryuzaki raised her eyebrows and turned to look at Sasaki. Watanabe and Sasaki had been classmates once…?
President Watanabe’s mouth turned up slightly at the corners. “This may be just what we need.”
Sakaki remained enigmatically silent.
Ryuzaki shifted her attention back to the NTAJ president. “President Watanabe.”
He sighed. “Yes, Ryuzaki-san. Ito, go back to America and make contact with the players-”
Sakaki’s voice cut in. “That will not be necessary any longer, Watanabe.”
The NTAJ president lifted an eyebrow. “And why? We are still the NTAJ,” he said with dignity.
Sakaki replied simply, “When it is time, someone will contact you. Don’t spoil their work there. Concentrate on that.” He lifted his cane and indicated the grey folders. Then he glanced at Ryuzaki. “Ryuzaki-sensei. May I ask you to walk out with me?”
Ryuzaki Sumire inclined her head. “You may.”
So Sasaki Tarou wanted to talk. Very good. It was time, Ryuzaki reflected, that they had a nice little chat. She had lots of questions for him.