[escobedo]
EXTRAPOLATION
by umarekawareru
On his first day at Seishun Gakuen, Inui decides to sit back and watch things unfold, rather than interfere with them. It’s a new and completely unknown situation for him, so he doesn’t want to meddle with it before he can get a good look. Whatever has to happen will happen, but it’s better to be alert to the sound of approaching footsteps than to be surprised from behind.
“My name is Toriyama Mariko,” their teacher says, smiling at her class. She’s written her name on the board; the strokes of each kanji are precise and controlled, and the kana are above them, just as clear. “I will be your tutor this year. Nice to meet you all!” She bows lightly. “Now, how about you introduce yourselves as well? Let’s see, first one will be…” - her eyes scan the register - “Aoyagi Atsushi-kun. Will you please stand and write your name on the board, Aoyagi-kun?”
Introductory classes are interesting, in a way. Inui watches every one of his new classmates stand up and speak a couple of sentences that soon become repetitive (“I like listening to music and reading manga…”, “Nice to meet you! I hope we can be friends!”), so Inui analyses their expressions and wonders about what they’re not saying, instead. How do they feel about being there? What do they want to become? Do any of them have one thing that permanently plagues their minds, or are they the kind whose interests change constantly?
“I’m Inui Sadaharu,” Inui says, bowing briefly. Everyone’s looking at him, except for a spiky-haired boy in the back row, who’s been making small paper balls and trying to make them hit the picture of Bashô in the face for as long as the lecture’s been going on. He consistently misses his mark; either he throws the ball with too much force and hits the tree branches above Bashô’s head, or he throws too weakly and hits his chest. He’s already used up two sheets of paper; he must be getting frustrated. “I like tennis, Go and Korean films. Nice to meet you all!”
After he sits back down, time seems to go by much faster. Toriyama-sensei talks about lessons and subjects, and about the teachers that will be imparting them. The spiky-haired boy misses Bashô’s ear by less than a centimeter, and he makes a triumphant noise under his breath. The interval between his shots starts decreasing. It’s sunny outside, but a slight breeze comes in through the half-open window.
It’s a perfect day to play tennis.
When the bell goes, Inui practically dashes out of the classroom. His mind is already going over what he knows about Seigaku’s tennis club, and his body is fuzzy with anticipation. What kind of players will he face? What kind of game will they play? Seigaku isn’t a big club, not like Rikkai or Hyoutei are, but they are a regional level team. Maybe this year, Inui can help Seigaku go to Nationals.
“The tennis club?” The senpai repeats after a moment, looking at Inui. “Let’s see… It’s on the other side of the grounds, right, Ichikawa?” he says, turning to the boy next to him, another second year.
Ichikawa grins. “Right, right,” he says, nodding wisely. “Just turn around and walk straight ahead all the way you came from, past the baseball courts, and the tennis courts should be on your right.”
“Thank you,” Inui says, bowing briefly. He’s pretty sure the baseball courts weren’t anywhere near the tennis courts in the map he found on the Internet, but ‘pretty sure’ isn’t ‘100% sure’, and it would be rude to question his senpais, so Inui goes the way he’s been indicated and doesn’t say anything, even when he hears them laughing after a couple of minutes.
He crosses the grounds, observing his surroundings as he goes. April is just beginning, so there is the scent of sakura flowers in the air. Some students are standing around in circles, chatting amiably; others are lying on the grass, reading a book under the shade of a tree or even napping, their school bags serving as improvised pillows. Inui keeps walking ahead and passes a group of second and third years playing some sort of role-playing card game; then, a girl chattering excitedly on her cell; then, the baseball courts. But what he finds to the right of those is not the tennis club, but a group of boys and girls sparring on tatami mats.
“The tennis club?” one of the boys echoes with a sigh that sounds like a mixture of exasperation and pity. “It’s on the opposite end of the grounds, you know. The only thing beyond the baseball court is the karate club. You’ve been had, kid.”
Well, Inui thinks. At least all this walking is good warm-up. “I see,” he sighs, bowing slightly. “Thank you.” As he walks away, he can hear the boy grumble under his breath, something about ‘they think they’re so funny’ and ‘a good punch might help his orientation’.
He finally arrives at the tennis club half an hour later. The tennis courts are surrounded by trees and, since it’s the first day, they are almost empty. Inui can see a few freshmen hitting balls back and forth, but no second or third years. The upperclassmen probably have a game with another school, which suits Inui just fine - if they were there, he probably would spend all practice picking up balls and wouldn’t get to play at all. He decides to drop off his books before looking for an opponent, and when he goes into the clubroom to do just that, there’s someone there already.
“Good afternoon,” Inui greets immediately upon seeing the other boy. He’s a freshman, too, but that is as much as Inui can discern - the boy is testing the strings on a racket, with his back to Inui.
His head turns as soon as he hears Inui’s voice, though, and he returns the greeting. “Good afternoon,” he says somewhat stiffly, nodding at Inui. He wears glasses and looks a bit awkward, as if he is not sure how to act. Inui smiles in an attempt to be reassuring, and watches the unnatural frown on the boy’s face and the slightly developed muscles in his arms. Apart from the racket he’s examining, he’s carrying another one. He’s probably not a beginner. “Are you here for the tennis club?” the boy asks after a while, and glances at Inui out of the corner of his eye, looking uncomfortable with Inui’s scrutiny. Inui places his bag on an empty shelf and looks away from the boy, realizing he’s been staring too blatantly.
“Yes,” he replies amiably, taking out his own racket. The grip tape is dirty and starting to come off; he should change it soon. “My name is Inui Sadaharu. I’m in class 1-G. Have you played tennis before?” he asks, partly because he wants to make conversation and partly because he’s interested in the answer. There’s a certain quality to this boy, a seriousness beyond their years, a certain aura about him that makes Inui feel that this boy is strong.
“Yes, I have,” the boy says. “I’m Tezuka Kunimitsu. Nice to meet you, Inui-kun.” He tucks his racket under his right arm - left-handed, Inui mentally notes - and as he walks out of the clubroom, his back is impossibly straight, so much that Inui wonders if he’s not uncomfortable.
“Tezuka-kun,” Inui calls after him, thoughtfully. “I hope we can be friends.” Tezuka turns around just enough to nod politely at Inui, and then he leaves, closing the door behind him.
And Inui thinks, how interesting.
Time passes and proceeds to prove him right. Tezuka is strong, so much that even Yamato-buchou has a hard time beating him - not that the captain seems to mind very much. He appears energetic and almost happy after the first time Tezuka beats him in an even match, and seems to find Tezuka’s extreme politeness and unnaturally stern attitude (towards himself as well as towards others) more amusing than anything. Tezuka always runs at the same pace as the regulars, and despite his obviously outstanding physical faculties, he never once complains about having to do freshman work.
As it is now, though, Tezuka is in everyone’s minds. Everyone talks about him constantly, but they don’t all say the same things. The freshmen look up to him as some sort of leader, while most of the upperclassmen feel threatened by him, by his strength that seems to know no limit. Inui isn’t too interested in the rumours about Tezuka, not as much as he is interested in Tezuka himself. He watches him almost compulsively, examining his form and his response to his opponent’s shots, and constantly thinks of how Tezuka would respond to Inui’s shots, how far he could push Tezuka. Inui trains more than the assigned menu for the freshmen, to prepare for a match between them, but he never actually asks for one. He wants to wait a bit more, watch for a bit longer, find out a bit more.
At some point, he starts writing things down. It all begins because Tezuka executes a new shot, one day in practice, against the captain, and Inui is so shocked and so awed to see the ball roll back towards the net after landing in Yamato-buchou’s side of the court that he takes out his math notebook and draws a diagram of the shot, so as not to forget it. Eventually he buys a new notebook and fills it with everything he’s observed of Tezuka, even the slightest details, just in case. He writes down scores, statistics and all kinds of data, and wonders about Tezuka’s real strength. He knows there are other people watching Tezuka as well - Fuji, Oishi, some of the upperclassmen - and he watches those people as well, but never as intently as he watches Tezuka. Fuji is in Inui’s class, and sometimes they’ll have lunch together and Fuji will talk about Tezuka. Inui always remembers Fuji’s words, because Fuji is one of the most observant people he’s ever met, and on the rare occasions Inui brings sushi for lunch, he lets Fuji have the pieces with the most wasabi. It is a weird arrangement, but it suits them both just fine.
They stand together most days and watch Tezuka beat their senpais right-handedly, and Inui is pretty sure Fuji has noticed too, but he never mentions any of it.
Inui finally challenges Tezuka to a match just before summer break. “Use your left hand,” he tells Tezuka, because their upperclassmen left almost an hour ago and there is nobody around to overhear. Tezuka seems faintly surprised by Inui’s words, but the flash of expression is suppressed instantly. “Don’t hold back.”
In that match, Tezuka dominates easily and Inui ends up having to run all over the court to return Tezuka’s shots. He thinks about his data and tries to predict where Tezuka’s next shot will land. His muscles are screaming from the effort after half an hour, but Inui doesn’t feel it, because right then all that matters is pushing Tezuka’s limits as well as his own, finding out how big the gap between them is. Inui has never played someone this strong - he doubts even the Professor would be able to do anything against Tezuka’s left hand - but he has never enjoyed tennis this much before, either.
He loses, 1-6.
“You played well,” Tezuka says, shaking his hand after the match.
“And you didn’t play your best,” Inui tells him somewhat resentfully, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his free hand. The match ended too soon; Tezuka didn’t even use that drop shot of his against him. “But I will get better and force you to take me seriously, Tezuka.”
Inui watches Tezuka and writes everything down, day after day after day. He goes over his match with Tezuka in his head and trains harder, runs more laps every day. He watches Tezuka’s strength develop and wants to find out the reasons behind it, the key to Tezuka’s ability, the way to catch up to him. He watches Tezuka whenever he is in the vicinity and realizes that he is rapidly becoming obsessed, but he is afraid he will miss something vital if he turns his gaze away for just one second.
He fills his ‘Tezuka’ notebook and buys a new one, and another, and another. Tezuka keeps getting better, and Inui keeps losing to him. He tells himself, one day I’ll beat you, and doesn’t dare look away.
**
It gets worse when they enter High School.
**
“It was a good game,” Fuji says, wearing his trademark half-smile. He’s leaning against the doorframe, tennis bag slung over his shoulder. “And so close, too!”
Tezuka puts down his pen for a second and looks at Fuji. It is almost completely dark outside now, and everyone has already left. Only Tezuka has stayed behind to do some paperwork, and apparently Fuji has decided to keep him company. “Inui has improved a lot since last time we played,” Tezuka replies, looking at the pairings sheet in front of him. “Don’t just stand there, bugs will fly in if we leave the door open.”
“A-ah,” Fuji whines, walking in and resting his weight on the door to shut it. “You two fought for every point; it looked like a really fun match. Ah, I’m so jealous!” When Fuji speaks again, however, the playfulness has disappeared from his voice. “But that guy won’t be satisfied with that. He’s worked too much to give up now.”
Fuji’s gaze is sharp and piercing; maybe it’s out of an unsuspected consideration that he rarely opens his eyes. “I know.” Being the subject of Fuji’s scrutiny makes Tezuka the slightest bit uncomfortable. “I can’t let my guard down when it comes to him.”
And then, suddenly, Fuji laughs and that atmosphere of tension is broken. “As if you actually let it down around the rest of us!” he chuckles, shaking his head in what Tezuka recognizes as amusement. “Should I wait for you to finish up?”
“No, that’s alright,” Tezuka replies, feeling slightly dismayed at the amount of forms and papers he has to go over before he can leave. “I’m still going to be a while.”
Fuji glances at the sheet with the blocks and results of the ranking matches on the top of the pile, and nods. “Good luck with that.”
Tezuka doesn’t even look up when he hears the sound of the door shutting behind Fuji. He too stares at the pairings sheet, A-block in particular. He knows, without needing Fuji to tell him, that Inui will not be satisfied until he beats Tezuka. He still feels the newfound power of Inui’s shots reverberating through his arm, and remembers that brief moment after Inui took the third game, when Tezuka wondered if he would win at all. Under normal circumstances, there would have been no doubt in Tezuka’s mind of the outcome, but in that match, there was Inui’s healthy and strong arm, against Tezuka’s traitorous shoulder.
He instinctively reaches up to touch it and wonders if Inui knows about that, if he has watched Tezuka closely enough to pick up the signs. Tezuka wouldn’t be surprised if he had; these days more than ever, it feels as if Inui’s constantly one step behind him, always watching with that notebook of his tucked under his arm. Inui’s obsession isn’t healthy, for either of them, but Tezuka tries not to think about it too much and pretend that it’s still a manageable thing. If Tezuka had to look over his shoulder everywhere he goes to check Inui’s not following him - which Tezuka knows Inui does, too often to blame it on a rare coincidence - he would go crazy, and he has a feeling it will be the end of Seigaku if he does.
Still, as much as he wants to ignore that, he can not pretend not to notice Inui approaching from behind, closing the gap between them little by little. The gap is still big enough that he doesn’t need to worry too much, but small enough that he feels the need to be on his toes. He is so immersed in these thoughts that he doesn’t look up when the door of the clubroom opens, figuring it’s just Fuji coming back to pick up something he may have forgotten.
“You’re still here, Tezuka?” says a voice that is definitely not Fuji’s. “Everyone else has already gone home.”
Speak of the devil, Tezuka thinks. “I had some paperwork to do today,” he replies. The cynical little voice in his mind points out that Inui probably already knew this, and is actually just trying to appear casual about his stalking tendencies. “What about you?”
“I was tutoring a freshman,” Inui replies readily, dropping his bag next to the iron bench, as if he’s going to stay. Tezuka doesn’t comment. “I could help you with that, if you want,” Inui adds, nodding at the stack of papers on Tezuka’s lap.
“Thank you, but no,” Tezuka replies curtly, putting the pairings chart aside. He’ll go over that later. “This is part of my duties as captain. I have to do this myself.”
Inui chuckles softly, almost absent-mindedly. “You’re always so honest and proper, aren’t you? As expected of Tezuka.”
Tezuka isn’t entirely sure what to make of that, but he is rapidly becoming uncomfortable under Inui’s gaze. He frowns and puts down his pen for the second time; he can’t work like this. “Inui, what do you want?” he asks, somewhat exasperated.
He’s not expecting that half-smile from Inui, and yet it comes. “I want many things,” Inui says cryptically, unexpectedly reaching out to take the stack of papers out of Tezuka’s lap and onto the floor. This forces him to invade Tezuka’s personal space, and Tezuka feels so shocked and so suddenly out of control that he blurts out, “Inui, what - ”
“I want to know,” Inui continues, ignoring Tezuka’s outraged protests at their proximity, “why you are so difficult to catch up to, no matter how fast I run after you.”
Tezuka’s back is pressed against the row of lockers behind the bench, and Inui is leaning over him impossibly close now. His hand trails up Tezuka’s left arm and rests lightly for a moment at his shoulder, and the ghost of pain flickers before Tezuka’s eyes for a moment, but Inui’s grip is light. He knows, after all; but Inui’s consideration does not make his actions any less unacceptable. “Inui, you have to stop this right now,” he demands, using his ‘captain’ voice. “Let go.”
But Inui doesn’t seem affronted as much as he seems bitterly amused; his other hand is splayed over Tezuka’s chest, a bit to the right of his heart, hopefully far enough that he can’t feel how ridiculously fast it has started to beat. “Even if I train almost uninterruptedly, every day of every week, it seems like I can’t quite reach you,” Inui chuckles bitterly. They are so close now that Tezuka can see Inui’s eyes behind his apparently opaque lenses, roaming all over Tezuka’s body, and it shouldn’t make Tezuka’s skin tingle the way it does. “But I want to catch up to you, Tezuka, that has been the only thing in my mind for almost six years now…”
“You are obsessed,” Tezuka spits out, inwardly praying that Inui will let go of him before Tezuka’s stupid, teenaged body betrays the rational side of him. “You won’t beat me even if you conti- ah!” Something warm and wet flicks over Tezuka’s earlobe, making him gasp unwillingly. He curses himself and shuts his eyes, but Inui just laughs. His voice sounds huskier now as he speaks in Tezuka’s ear, and Tezuka should not like the feeling of Inui’s breath puffing against the wet skin. “Maybe I am,” Inui concedes in a low voice, the hand on Tezuka’s chest now sliding down his side, “but if I can never defeat you, at least once I want to see you shake before me and lose control… even if just once…”
Tezuka is keenly aware of Inui’s eyes fixated on his face, and he tries to glare discouragingly at him, but the effect is probably undermined by the fact that his breath is coming in short puffs now, no matter how much he struggles to regain control of it. Inui keeps saying those things and Tezuka shouldn’t be turned on by them - stupid hormones, when did he develop this attention-seeking side? - and Inui’s hand starts traveling down, unmistakably in the direction of Tezuka’s unwanted erection, and Tezuka gasps, “Inui, don’t-”
“What about you, Tezuka?” Inui asks, just as breathless, his fingers struggling to push down the waistband of Tezuka’s pants and underwear. Before Tezuka’s mind can do anything to stop it, his hips have already instinctively lifted up to make Inui’s task easier. Tezuka’s face is on fire, and unluckily it’s not the only part of him that is. “What do you want?”
“I -” Tezuka begins, but the feel of Inui’s tongue licking at the tip of his cock catches him off-guard and seems to heighten his awareness. “I don’t - please, Inui, anyone could -”
They both freeze as the sound of the doorknob turning rings in the empty room, and Inui straightens immediately, throwing his jersey at Tezuka so he can use it to conceal his lap. Terrified, Tezuka grabs a hold of one of the papers on the floor and places it in front of him under the pretense of studying it. In the back of his mind, he realizes that he must be smearing pre-come across Inui’s jersey, but any worries about decorum take second place to the panic at being found out in such an unfortunate position. However, he takes a deep breath and tries to act as if nothing has happened.
“Nakamura,” Tezuka addresses the first year that’s standing on the threshold, hoping that his voice doesn’t sound as hoarse as it does in his head. “What are you doing here?”
He would feel sorry at the stuttering freshman any other day, but right now all Tezuka wants is Nakamura to get out of there, and himself to be swallowed by the earth. “I, uh, I was practicing against the wall and I didn’t realize it’d become this late…” Nakamura manages to get out, his fingers clutching a tennis ball nervously. “If Tezuka-buchou has to stay for a bit longer, then maybe I could bring him a can of soda or something… if you need anything…” His eyes dart nervously from Inui to Tezuka, and the latter is hoping that Inui’s jersey manages to hide all of his exposed flesh, because he never did check that it covered him completely and he’s supposed to be the responsible one and oh god -
“I’m fine,” Tezuka replies curtly, his voice thankfully steadier now. “You should go home, Nakamura-kun, or your parents will worry.”
Tezuka had never thought of Nakamura’s stubbornness as a bad trait to have, before. “But you look flushed,” the first year insists, taking a step forward, and right now Tezuka wants to yell at him to go run twenty laps around the courts, or something to that effect, anything that will get him out of here before Tezuka’s current situation goes from ‘bad’ to ‘worse’. “I’d feel bad leaving Tezuka-buchou to fend for himself when he’s sick and -”
“There’s no need for you to worry, Nakamura-kun,” Inui finally speaks up, hopefully to get Tezuka out of the mess he’s got him into. “You can go home, I’ll stay here with the captain.”
When the freshman nods agreeably, Tezuka is too grateful to even think about the meaning behind Inui’s words. “Then Inui-senpai, please take good care of him!”
Inui’s hand goes back to Tezuka’s shoulder as Nakamura lets himself out, and Tezuka feels himself go red in shame at his body’s anticipation. Inui’s voice sounds almost triumphant and Tezuka can almost see his glasses glint as he says, “I will be happy to.”
The door shuts after Nakamura and, without meaning to, Tezuka shivers.
by umarekawareru
On his first day at Seishun Gakuen, Inui decides to sit back and watch things unfold, rather than interfere with them. It’s a new and completely unknown situation for him, so he doesn’t want to meddle with it before he can get a good look. Whatever has to happen will happen, but it’s better to be alert to the sound of approaching footsteps than to be surprised from behind.
“My name is Toriyama Mariko,” their teacher says, smiling at her class. She’s written her name on the board; the strokes of each kanji are precise and controlled, and the kana are above them, just as clear. “I will be your tutor this year. Nice to meet you all!” She bows lightly. “Now, how about you introduce yourselves as well? Let’s see, first one will be…” - her eyes scan the register - “Aoyagi Atsushi-kun. Will you please stand and write your name on the board, Aoyagi-kun?”
Introductory classes are interesting, in a way. Inui watches every one of his new classmates stand up and speak a couple of sentences that soon become repetitive (“I like listening to music and reading manga…”, “Nice to meet you! I hope we can be friends!”), so Inui analyses their expressions and wonders about what they’re not saying, instead. How do they feel about being there? What do they want to become? Do any of them have one thing that permanently plagues their minds, or are they the kind whose interests change constantly?
“I’m Inui Sadaharu,” Inui says, bowing briefly. Everyone’s looking at him, except for a spiky-haired boy in the back row, who’s been making small paper balls and trying to make them hit the picture of Bashô in the face for as long as the lecture’s been going on. He consistently misses his mark; either he throws the ball with too much force and hits the tree branches above Bashô’s head, or he throws too weakly and hits his chest. He’s already used up two sheets of paper; he must be getting frustrated. “I like tennis, Go and Korean films. Nice to meet you all!”
After he sits back down, time seems to go by much faster. Toriyama-sensei talks about lessons and subjects, and about the teachers that will be imparting them. The spiky-haired boy misses Bashô’s ear by less than a centimeter, and he makes a triumphant noise under his breath. The interval between his shots starts decreasing. It’s sunny outside, but a slight breeze comes in through the half-open window.
It’s a perfect day to play tennis.
When the bell goes, Inui practically dashes out of the classroom. His mind is already going over what he knows about Seigaku’s tennis club, and his body is fuzzy with anticipation. What kind of players will he face? What kind of game will they play? Seigaku isn’t a big club, not like Rikkai or Hyoutei are, but they are a regional level team. Maybe this year, Inui can help Seigaku go to Nationals.
“The tennis club?” The senpai repeats after a moment, looking at Inui. “Let’s see… It’s on the other side of the grounds, right, Ichikawa?” he says, turning to the boy next to him, another second year.
Ichikawa grins. “Right, right,” he says, nodding wisely. “Just turn around and walk straight ahead all the way you came from, past the baseball courts, and the tennis courts should be on your right.”
“Thank you,” Inui says, bowing briefly. He’s pretty sure the baseball courts weren’t anywhere near the tennis courts in the map he found on the Internet, but ‘pretty sure’ isn’t ‘100% sure’, and it would be rude to question his senpais, so Inui goes the way he’s been indicated and doesn’t say anything, even when he hears them laughing after a couple of minutes.
He crosses the grounds, observing his surroundings as he goes. April is just beginning, so there is the scent of sakura flowers in the air. Some students are standing around in circles, chatting amiably; others are lying on the grass, reading a book under the shade of a tree or even napping, their school bags serving as improvised pillows. Inui keeps walking ahead and passes a group of second and third years playing some sort of role-playing card game; then, a girl chattering excitedly on her cell; then, the baseball courts. But what he finds to the right of those is not the tennis club, but a group of boys and girls sparring on tatami mats.
“The tennis club?” one of the boys echoes with a sigh that sounds like a mixture of exasperation and pity. “It’s on the opposite end of the grounds, you know. The only thing beyond the baseball court is the karate club. You’ve been had, kid.”
Well, Inui thinks. At least all this walking is good warm-up. “I see,” he sighs, bowing slightly. “Thank you.” As he walks away, he can hear the boy grumble under his breath, something about ‘they think they’re so funny’ and ‘a good punch might help his orientation’.
He finally arrives at the tennis club half an hour later. The tennis courts are surrounded by trees and, since it’s the first day, they are almost empty. Inui can see a few freshmen hitting balls back and forth, but no second or third years. The upperclassmen probably have a game with another school, which suits Inui just fine - if they were there, he probably would spend all practice picking up balls and wouldn’t get to play at all. He decides to drop off his books before looking for an opponent, and when he goes into the clubroom to do just that, there’s someone there already.
“Good afternoon,” Inui greets immediately upon seeing the other boy. He’s a freshman, too, but that is as much as Inui can discern - the boy is testing the strings on a racket, with his back to Inui.
His head turns as soon as he hears Inui’s voice, though, and he returns the greeting. “Good afternoon,” he says somewhat stiffly, nodding at Inui. He wears glasses and looks a bit awkward, as if he is not sure how to act. Inui smiles in an attempt to be reassuring, and watches the unnatural frown on the boy’s face and the slightly developed muscles in his arms. Apart from the racket he’s examining, he’s carrying another one. He’s probably not a beginner. “Are you here for the tennis club?” the boy asks after a while, and glances at Inui out of the corner of his eye, looking uncomfortable with Inui’s scrutiny. Inui places his bag on an empty shelf and looks away from the boy, realizing he’s been staring too blatantly.
“Yes,” he replies amiably, taking out his own racket. The grip tape is dirty and starting to come off; he should change it soon. “My name is Inui Sadaharu. I’m in class 1-G. Have you played tennis before?” he asks, partly because he wants to make conversation and partly because he’s interested in the answer. There’s a certain quality to this boy, a seriousness beyond their years, a certain aura about him that makes Inui feel that this boy is strong.
“Yes, I have,” the boy says. “I’m Tezuka Kunimitsu. Nice to meet you, Inui-kun.” He tucks his racket under his right arm - left-handed, Inui mentally notes - and as he walks out of the clubroom, his back is impossibly straight, so much that Inui wonders if he’s not uncomfortable.
“Tezuka-kun,” Inui calls after him, thoughtfully. “I hope we can be friends.” Tezuka turns around just enough to nod politely at Inui, and then he leaves, closing the door behind him.
And Inui thinks, how interesting.
Time passes and proceeds to prove him right. Tezuka is strong, so much that even Yamato-buchou has a hard time beating him - not that the captain seems to mind very much. He appears energetic and almost happy after the first time Tezuka beats him in an even match, and seems to find Tezuka’s extreme politeness and unnaturally stern attitude (towards himself as well as towards others) more amusing than anything. Tezuka always runs at the same pace as the regulars, and despite his obviously outstanding physical faculties, he never once complains about having to do freshman work.
As it is now, though, Tezuka is in everyone’s minds. Everyone talks about him constantly, but they don’t all say the same things. The freshmen look up to him as some sort of leader, while most of the upperclassmen feel threatened by him, by his strength that seems to know no limit. Inui isn’t too interested in the rumours about Tezuka, not as much as he is interested in Tezuka himself. He watches him almost compulsively, examining his form and his response to his opponent’s shots, and constantly thinks of how Tezuka would respond to Inui’s shots, how far he could push Tezuka. Inui trains more than the assigned menu for the freshmen, to prepare for a match between them, but he never actually asks for one. He wants to wait a bit more, watch for a bit longer, find out a bit more.
At some point, he starts writing things down. It all begins because Tezuka executes a new shot, one day in practice, against the captain, and Inui is so shocked and so awed to see the ball roll back towards the net after landing in Yamato-buchou’s side of the court that he takes out his math notebook and draws a diagram of the shot, so as not to forget it. Eventually he buys a new notebook and fills it with everything he’s observed of Tezuka, even the slightest details, just in case. He writes down scores, statistics and all kinds of data, and wonders about Tezuka’s real strength. He knows there are other people watching Tezuka as well - Fuji, Oishi, some of the upperclassmen - and he watches those people as well, but never as intently as he watches Tezuka. Fuji is in Inui’s class, and sometimes they’ll have lunch together and Fuji will talk about Tezuka. Inui always remembers Fuji’s words, because Fuji is one of the most observant people he’s ever met, and on the rare occasions Inui brings sushi for lunch, he lets Fuji have the pieces with the most wasabi. It is a weird arrangement, but it suits them both just fine.
They stand together most days and watch Tezuka beat their senpais right-handedly, and Inui is pretty sure Fuji has noticed too, but he never mentions any of it.
Inui finally challenges Tezuka to a match just before summer break. “Use your left hand,” he tells Tezuka, because their upperclassmen left almost an hour ago and there is nobody around to overhear. Tezuka seems faintly surprised by Inui’s words, but the flash of expression is suppressed instantly. “Don’t hold back.”
In that match, Tezuka dominates easily and Inui ends up having to run all over the court to return Tezuka’s shots. He thinks about his data and tries to predict where Tezuka’s next shot will land. His muscles are screaming from the effort after half an hour, but Inui doesn’t feel it, because right then all that matters is pushing Tezuka’s limits as well as his own, finding out how big the gap between them is. Inui has never played someone this strong - he doubts even the Professor would be able to do anything against Tezuka’s left hand - but he has never enjoyed tennis this much before, either.
He loses, 1-6.
“You played well,” Tezuka says, shaking his hand after the match.
“And you didn’t play your best,” Inui tells him somewhat resentfully, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his free hand. The match ended too soon; Tezuka didn’t even use that drop shot of his against him. “But I will get better and force you to take me seriously, Tezuka.”
Inui watches Tezuka and writes everything down, day after day after day. He goes over his match with Tezuka in his head and trains harder, runs more laps every day. He watches Tezuka’s strength develop and wants to find out the reasons behind it, the key to Tezuka’s ability, the way to catch up to him. He watches Tezuka whenever he is in the vicinity and realizes that he is rapidly becoming obsessed, but he is afraid he will miss something vital if he turns his gaze away for just one second.
He fills his ‘Tezuka’ notebook and buys a new one, and another, and another. Tezuka keeps getting better, and Inui keeps losing to him. He tells himself, one day I’ll beat you, and doesn’t dare look away.
**
It gets worse when they enter High School.
**
“It was a good game,” Fuji says, wearing his trademark half-smile. He’s leaning against the doorframe, tennis bag slung over his shoulder. “And so close, too!”
Tezuka puts down his pen for a second and looks at Fuji. It is almost completely dark outside now, and everyone has already left. Only Tezuka has stayed behind to do some paperwork, and apparently Fuji has decided to keep him company. “Inui has improved a lot since last time we played,” Tezuka replies, looking at the pairings sheet in front of him. “Don’t just stand there, bugs will fly in if we leave the door open.”
“A-ah,” Fuji whines, walking in and resting his weight on the door to shut it. “You two fought for every point; it looked like a really fun match. Ah, I’m so jealous!” When Fuji speaks again, however, the playfulness has disappeared from his voice. “But that guy won’t be satisfied with that. He’s worked too much to give up now.”
Fuji’s gaze is sharp and piercing; maybe it’s out of an unsuspected consideration that he rarely opens his eyes. “I know.” Being the subject of Fuji’s scrutiny makes Tezuka the slightest bit uncomfortable. “I can’t let my guard down when it comes to him.”
And then, suddenly, Fuji laughs and that atmosphere of tension is broken. “As if you actually let it down around the rest of us!” he chuckles, shaking his head in what Tezuka recognizes as amusement. “Should I wait for you to finish up?”
“No, that’s alright,” Tezuka replies, feeling slightly dismayed at the amount of forms and papers he has to go over before he can leave. “I’m still going to be a while.”
Fuji glances at the sheet with the blocks and results of the ranking matches on the top of the pile, and nods. “Good luck with that.”
Tezuka doesn’t even look up when he hears the sound of the door shutting behind Fuji. He too stares at the pairings sheet, A-block in particular. He knows, without needing Fuji to tell him, that Inui will not be satisfied until he beats Tezuka. He still feels the newfound power of Inui’s shots reverberating through his arm, and remembers that brief moment after Inui took the third game, when Tezuka wondered if he would win at all. Under normal circumstances, there would have been no doubt in Tezuka’s mind of the outcome, but in that match, there was Inui’s healthy and strong arm, against Tezuka’s traitorous shoulder.
He instinctively reaches up to touch it and wonders if Inui knows about that, if he has watched Tezuka closely enough to pick up the signs. Tezuka wouldn’t be surprised if he had; these days more than ever, it feels as if Inui’s constantly one step behind him, always watching with that notebook of his tucked under his arm. Inui’s obsession isn’t healthy, for either of them, but Tezuka tries not to think about it too much and pretend that it’s still a manageable thing. If Tezuka had to look over his shoulder everywhere he goes to check Inui’s not following him - which Tezuka knows Inui does, too often to blame it on a rare coincidence - he would go crazy, and he has a feeling it will be the end of Seigaku if he does.
Still, as much as he wants to ignore that, he can not pretend not to notice Inui approaching from behind, closing the gap between them little by little. The gap is still big enough that he doesn’t need to worry too much, but small enough that he feels the need to be on his toes. He is so immersed in these thoughts that he doesn’t look up when the door of the clubroom opens, figuring it’s just Fuji coming back to pick up something he may have forgotten.
“You’re still here, Tezuka?” says a voice that is definitely not Fuji’s. “Everyone else has already gone home.”
Speak of the devil, Tezuka thinks. “I had some paperwork to do today,” he replies. The cynical little voice in his mind points out that Inui probably already knew this, and is actually just trying to appear casual about his stalking tendencies. “What about you?”
“I was tutoring a freshman,” Inui replies readily, dropping his bag next to the iron bench, as if he’s going to stay. Tezuka doesn’t comment. “I could help you with that, if you want,” Inui adds, nodding at the stack of papers on Tezuka’s lap.
“Thank you, but no,” Tezuka replies curtly, putting the pairings chart aside. He’ll go over that later. “This is part of my duties as captain. I have to do this myself.”
Inui chuckles softly, almost absent-mindedly. “You’re always so honest and proper, aren’t you? As expected of Tezuka.”
Tezuka isn’t entirely sure what to make of that, but he is rapidly becoming uncomfortable under Inui’s gaze. He frowns and puts down his pen for the second time; he can’t work like this. “Inui, what do you want?” he asks, somewhat exasperated.
He’s not expecting that half-smile from Inui, and yet it comes. “I want many things,” Inui says cryptically, unexpectedly reaching out to take the stack of papers out of Tezuka’s lap and onto the floor. This forces him to invade Tezuka’s personal space, and Tezuka feels so shocked and so suddenly out of control that he blurts out, “Inui, what - ”
“I want to know,” Inui continues, ignoring Tezuka’s outraged protests at their proximity, “why you are so difficult to catch up to, no matter how fast I run after you.”
Tezuka’s back is pressed against the row of lockers behind the bench, and Inui is leaning over him impossibly close now. His hand trails up Tezuka’s left arm and rests lightly for a moment at his shoulder, and the ghost of pain flickers before Tezuka’s eyes for a moment, but Inui’s grip is light. He knows, after all; but Inui’s consideration does not make his actions any less unacceptable. “Inui, you have to stop this right now,” he demands, using his ‘captain’ voice. “Let go.”
But Inui doesn’t seem affronted as much as he seems bitterly amused; his other hand is splayed over Tezuka’s chest, a bit to the right of his heart, hopefully far enough that he can’t feel how ridiculously fast it has started to beat. “Even if I train almost uninterruptedly, every day of every week, it seems like I can’t quite reach you,” Inui chuckles bitterly. They are so close now that Tezuka can see Inui’s eyes behind his apparently opaque lenses, roaming all over Tezuka’s body, and it shouldn’t make Tezuka’s skin tingle the way it does. “But I want to catch up to you, Tezuka, that has been the only thing in my mind for almost six years now…”
“You are obsessed,” Tezuka spits out, inwardly praying that Inui will let go of him before Tezuka’s stupid, teenaged body betrays the rational side of him. “You won’t beat me even if you conti- ah!” Something warm and wet flicks over Tezuka’s earlobe, making him gasp unwillingly. He curses himself and shuts his eyes, but Inui just laughs. His voice sounds huskier now as he speaks in Tezuka’s ear, and Tezuka should not like the feeling of Inui’s breath puffing against the wet skin. “Maybe I am,” Inui concedes in a low voice, the hand on Tezuka’s chest now sliding down his side, “but if I can never defeat you, at least once I want to see you shake before me and lose control… even if just once…”
Tezuka is keenly aware of Inui’s eyes fixated on his face, and he tries to glare discouragingly at him, but the effect is probably undermined by the fact that his breath is coming in short puffs now, no matter how much he struggles to regain control of it. Inui keeps saying those things and Tezuka shouldn’t be turned on by them - stupid hormones, when did he develop this attention-seeking side? - and Inui’s hand starts traveling down, unmistakably in the direction of Tezuka’s unwanted erection, and Tezuka gasps, “Inui, don’t-”
“What about you, Tezuka?” Inui asks, just as breathless, his fingers struggling to push down the waistband of Tezuka’s pants and underwear. Before Tezuka’s mind can do anything to stop it, his hips have already instinctively lifted up to make Inui’s task easier. Tezuka’s face is on fire, and unluckily it’s not the only part of him that is. “What do you want?”
“I -” Tezuka begins, but the feel of Inui’s tongue licking at the tip of his cock catches him off-guard and seems to heighten his awareness. “I don’t - please, Inui, anyone could -”
They both freeze as the sound of the doorknob turning rings in the empty room, and Inui straightens immediately, throwing his jersey at Tezuka so he can use it to conceal his lap. Terrified, Tezuka grabs a hold of one of the papers on the floor and places it in front of him under the pretense of studying it. In the back of his mind, he realizes that he must be smearing pre-come across Inui’s jersey, but any worries about decorum take second place to the panic at being found out in such an unfortunate position. However, he takes a deep breath and tries to act as if nothing has happened.
“Nakamura,” Tezuka addresses the first year that’s standing on the threshold, hoping that his voice doesn’t sound as hoarse as it does in his head. “What are you doing here?”
He would feel sorry at the stuttering freshman any other day, but right now all Tezuka wants is Nakamura to get out of there, and himself to be swallowed by the earth. “I, uh, I was practicing against the wall and I didn’t realize it’d become this late…” Nakamura manages to get out, his fingers clutching a tennis ball nervously. “If Tezuka-buchou has to stay for a bit longer, then maybe I could bring him a can of soda or something… if you need anything…” His eyes dart nervously from Inui to Tezuka, and the latter is hoping that Inui’s jersey manages to hide all of his exposed flesh, because he never did check that it covered him completely and he’s supposed to be the responsible one and oh god -
“I’m fine,” Tezuka replies curtly, his voice thankfully steadier now. “You should go home, Nakamura-kun, or your parents will worry.”
Tezuka had never thought of Nakamura’s stubbornness as a bad trait to have, before. “But you look flushed,” the first year insists, taking a step forward, and right now Tezuka wants to yell at him to go run twenty laps around the courts, or something to that effect, anything that will get him out of here before Tezuka’s current situation goes from ‘bad’ to ‘worse’. “I’d feel bad leaving Tezuka-buchou to fend for himself when he’s sick and -”
“There’s no need for you to worry, Nakamura-kun,” Inui finally speaks up, hopefully to get Tezuka out of the mess he’s got him into. “You can go home, I’ll stay here with the captain.”
When the freshman nods agreeably, Tezuka is too grateful to even think about the meaning behind Inui’s words. “Then Inui-senpai, please take good care of him!”
Inui’s hand goes back to Tezuka’s shoulder as Nakamura lets himself out, and Tezuka feels himself go red in shame at his body’s anticipation. Inui’s voice sounds almost triumphant and Tezuka can almost see his glasses glint as he says, “I will be happy to.”
The door shuts after Nakamura and, without meaning to, Tezuka shivers.