Prince Cafe - Chapter 07
Title: The Prince Cafe

Chapter: 07

Fandom: Tenipuri

Pairings: AtobexTezukaxFuji, some GP and InuxKai throw away lines. Maybe MomoRyo if you really stretch it and read between the lines.

Disclaimer: Original series belong to Konami-sensei. I take absolutely zero claim for this.

Idea for this story was inspired by the newest set of clear cards with "The Prince Cafe" theme.

Author's Note: Holy fuck, I so should be studying for my midterm. I'm...screwed. So ver screwed. I die.

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Chapter 07 – Prodigies

Echizen dragged his feet along the tennis court as he prepared for his game. He had hoped that his buchou would take pity on all involved and stop the madness that really wasn’t Echizen’s fault in the first place. However, Tezuka was Tezuka, which meant he had some anachronistic sense of honor and unequivocal deference to his sempai, no matter how outrageous or likely detrimental to Seigaku’s physical health said sempai’s ideas were.

Standing at the baseline, Echizen cast one last look to the crowd standing around the court. Tezuka was staring back with a face devoid of any readable emotion. The other Seigaku members, with exception to the Golden Pair who were currently curled together on a nearby bench to sleep off the Inui Juice in their system and Fuji who was too busy trying to stare Atobe to death, were giving him sympathetic glances. Even Kaidoh had struggled onto his good foot, leaning on Inui for support, to watch his morbidly fascinating game.

Yamato stepped into the courts once more to announce the modification to the singles games.

“Your attention for a minute, everyone,” Yamato began in his trademark jolly voice, which previously had seem endearing now only grated on Echizen’s nerves. “For the following singles games, our players are required to stand behind the service line after returning the serve for the rest of the game. Stepping out of no man’s land will result in a penalty in the form of a cup of Inui Juice.” Smiling, Yamato placed a fresh bottle of blue liquid on next to the umpire’s seat and exited the court.

“Singles 3, Yamabuki Sengoku versus Seigaku Echizen. Echizen to serve,” Saeki announced from his perch, keeping an eye on the retreating Yamato’s back.

Behind the Regular spectators, Ryuzaki Sakuno’s small feminine voice asked shakily, “Um…what’s no man’s land?”

“No man’s land is the area behind the service courts and before the baseline,” Inui explained in monotone, attention focused on the game, explaining only out of habit. “By forcing the players to play behind the service line, the chance at net play has been completely eliminated. Drop shots and short volleys would be most effective in this situation. However, at the same time, the service must be strong enough to guarantee the return will bounce into the court behind the service line. In other words, the service may very well determine who wins the game.”

“In that case, Echizen will win for sure,” said Momoshiro from a few meters away. “With his twist serve, Echizen can’t lose his service games.”

“While this may be true, for someone like Echizen, the new rule is a handicap.”

“Ne?” The younger students all turned to Inui, surprised at the prediction.

“Echizen is an all rounder, which means he specializes in combining baseline counters with net play to throw off his opponent’s rhythm. Sengoku, on the other hand, is a counter puncher, who specializes in playing baseline and waiting for his opponents to make a mistake. In comparison, being sealed into the back half of the court will cramp Echizen’s style.” Blank faces of confusion stared back at Inui. Sighing, he tried again. “In other words, the new rules benefit Sengoku’s style and restrict Echizen’s.”

“Maa, but Echizen’ll adapt,” Momoshiro dismissed Inui’s analysis and turned back to the game. Kaidoh hissed but didn’t say anything and settled down with the others to watch.

Meanwhile, Echizen had secured his first game using his twist serve, as Momoshiro had predicted. However, the challenge arose when Sengoku’s service game began. Echizen found himself running between the sidelines chasing after the flying yellow ball, but, due to the speed at which the balls were traveling, was unable to do anything but hit the ball into no man’s land and into Sengoku’s waiting racquet.

“Kuso,” he gasped, returning yet another fastball. Fed up with being led by the nose on the courts, he sliced furiously at the next return, executing a very clumsy Zero Shiki Drop Shot that managed to land squarely on net before falling into Sengoku’s court.

“Love-15.”

“Sugoi,” Momoshiro breathed in awe. Next to him, Inui and Kaidoh were stunned silent. A whispering stir began to rise as the spectators began talking amongst themselves with disbelief at the physics defying tennis. Tezuka’s hard eyed stare remained unchanged.

Grinning, Echizen pulled down his white cap and announced, “Mada mada dane.”

“What a mouthy little guy,” Atobe bemoaned to Tezuka. “Have you considered discipline?”

“No.” Tezuka willfully ignored the slow intrusion of his personal space by Atobe and Fuji from either side, choosing to focus his attention on the game.

“A moment of your time please,” Yamato suddenly interrupted, appearing on the court with two glasses filled with blue liquid. “Both players had stepped out of no man’s land.”

“What?” Stunned, the two singles 3 players looked down simultaneously to confirm that indeed, in the heat of the moment, they were half a step over the service line. “No,” the two on court players wailed almost in unison.

However, no amount of sulking, pouting, wailing, or begging changed Yamato’s former decision and even Sengoku’s luck wasn’t enough to save them this time. Thus, two more victims fell prey to The Juice and another draw was declared.

*

“Fuji, your turn,” Tezuka reminded the tensai who was now standing by his elbow.

Jolted out of his attempts at homicide through telekinesis, Fuji strode onto the court with a determination that he rarely displayed. His eyes glittered dangerously, something that his opponent, Kirihara, was well aware of.

“Ah, looks like this time Fuji-san is getting serious. Ooh ho, it’s going to be fun,” he observed, swinging his racquet carelessly and going so far as humming tunelessly as he, too, arrived on the court.

“Singles 2, Rikkai Dai Kirihara versus Seigaku Fuji. Seigaku Fuji to – ” A high pitched whine interrupted Saeki’s announcement as Fuji’s disappearing serve sliced over the net and planted itself firmly into Kirihara’s side of the court. Caught unawares, Kirihara could only stare.

“Ah, Fuji, I don’t think…”

Not paying Saeki the slightest attention, Fuji proceeded to serve 3 more consecutive disappearing serves, securing his service game in less than a minute.

“Uh…” Saeki sat stunned in his seat, unsure how to call the points or whether there was a rule regarding how to deal with lack of pauses between serves.

“It’s okay, Saeki-san. Call the game,” Kirihara called from his court, already walking to change sides with Fuji.

“Ah, hai. Game, Fuji. 1-Love. Oi, Fuji, calm down,” Saeki appealed to the still fuming tensai.

Fuji, however, was barely paying attention to the situation at hand. His eyes were focused on the Hyotei buchou who was, in his opinion, standing much too close to Tezuka to be appropriate.

Noticing the direction of Fuji’s gaze, Kirihara called out, “Oi, Fuji-san. I’m your opponent!”

Burning cerulean orbs all but snapped to the Rikkai tennis player and the barely suppressed hostility made Kirihara gulp audibly.

“Tezuka-kun, I would like to confirm that Fuji-kun wouldn’t injure Akaya on the courts. We still need him for the nationals.” Off the courts, Sanada’s voice was laced with concern.

“What are you whining for, Sanada?” Atobe scoffed. “If Hyotei’s doubles 1 can suffer that revolting liquid, Rikkai Dai’s number three seed can receive a few fast serves from Fuji Syuusuke. Na, Kabaji?”

The hulking form suddenly made itself known and grunted, “Usu.”

“I simply wanted to confirm that I had no cause for concern. Fuji-kun seems to be taking this practice match overly serious,” was Sanada’s cool reply.

“There’s no need to be concerned, Sanada-kun. Fuji is rarely serious,” Tezuka assured Rikkai’s fukubuchou and sufficiently ended the pissing contest before it began between the two rivals next to him.

However, four tsubame gaeshis and an irregular serve later, Sanada asked again, “Are you sure, Tezuka-kun?”

Hesitating to reply, Tezuka observed the almost red glint that was flaring off of Fuji’s eyes as it once more focused in his direction. Appearances unchanged and unshakable, Tezuka announced with conviction, “No.”

Instantaneously, Sanada jumped into action, calling a halt to the game and announced that Kirihara was going to default.

“What? Why, Sanada-sempai?”

“We need you alive for the nationals,” was Sanada’s utterly serious response. Kirihara could only blink in stunned silence, wondering if maybe his fukubuchou was being overly paranoid. However, the iron stare impressed on him that Sanada was still firmly planted in the realm of reality and that in Fuji’s current condition, death by a service to the solar plexus was not a far off possibility.

“Hai,” Kirihara finally relented, following Sanada off the courts. As they exited, they were suddenly approached by a flustered Jakkaru Kuwahara.

“Sanada! Akaya left Rikkai Dai without permission,” he wheezed out between pants.

“You don’t say,” Sanada observed, nodding meaningfully at the second year following him out of the tennis court. Noticing Kirihara’s presence, Jakkaru chuckled sheepishly and sent Kirihara a look that said I’m glad Fuji didn’t kill you because now I will have the pleasure of wrapping my hands around your neck and snapping it in half you walking tower of chaos. Kirihara wisely kept his fukubuchou between himself and Jakkaru.

Suddenly, the crowd began chanting, “A-to-be. A-to-be. Hy-o-tei. Hy-o-tei.”

Strutting across the courts, Atobe continued to direct the chanting until he arrived at the center, where he was sure everyone was able to have an unobstructed view of the perfection that was he. Snapping his fingers for silence, he announced, filled to the brim with well-founded arrogance, “The winner will be…ore-sama.”

The crowds roared with approval; Sanada pinched the bridge of his noise in exasperation; Fuji stood tensely at the periphery of the courts, humming with fury. Taking in the situation, Tezuka approached Yamato and bowed deeply. “Yamato-buchou, please keep an eye on Fuji during my match. Arigato gozaimasu.”

“Of course, Tezuka. Go play your game,” Yamato ruffled Tezuka’s still bowed head, then patted his back to send him into the courts.

A tense silence settled over the courts as the spectators eagerly waited for a rematch of the famed Hyotei-Seigaku Kantou match. Even those that had previously fell prey to Inui Juice managed to force themselves into an upright position to observe the show down between the two buchou-tachi.

“Singles 1, Hyotei Atobe versus Seigaku Tezuka. Hyotei Atobe to serve.”