Seiichi got out of his captain’s car at the Invitational training camp with complete confidence. He was one of four Rikkai players there - the others were the Singles 1 player and captain and the top doubles pair. Neither Genichirou nor Renji had been selected, which was fair considering their relative rankings within the school team. As first years, they would have other opportunities like this in the years to come. Actually, Seiichi fully expected to be the only first year in the camp. At any rate, apart from Rikkai, none of the other teams worth mentioning had used first year regulars this year. It was an easy deduction to make.
He looked up when someone ruffled his hair. There were definite disadvantages to being the shortest member of the team as well as the youngest.
“Suzuki-buchou?”
“Pick up your things and we’ll find out the room assignments; I think I saw Seigaku’s Yamato with a list a moment ago. I imagine he scraped in again.”
Seiichi fetched his holdall and tennis bag and followed closely behind his captain because, to be entirely honest, everyone else was taller than him and he was perhaps just a little nervous.
Yamato turned out to be a tall boy, wearin
g sunglasses despite the overcast sky and with a jacket slung over his shoulders.
“Suzuki, you’re later than I expected,” he said, casual even with one of Rikkai’s aces.
“But not late. Have you met Yukimura yet? He‘s our vice-captain.”
“One of the famed first year trio, is it? So you took out Nishiki then,” Yamato said thoughtfully as he scanned down the list of names. “Hmm, I’ll watch out for you. It will be interesting to see how you compare to the others here. Ah, they decided to put the two youngsters together then. Would you like me to walk you up, Yukimura-kun? You’re the last team to arrive, so I’m free now and I’m sure Suzuki has others to organise.”
“A captain’s job is never done.”
Yamato laughed as the tall figure wended its way away through the crowd. He then picked up Seiichi’s holdall and slung it over his shoulder with very little effort.
“Shall we go then?”
Seiichi tailed after him, unsure of what to make of this boy. Seigaku hadn’t even made it to the final four in Kanto this season, so he’d never seen them play but surely Yamato couldn’t be good enough to warrant looking down on any of the Rikkai regulars, even a short one?
At last they stopped outside a non-descript door.
“Room 34, your roommate has the other key,” Yamato said, passing it over and pushing open the door.
“Yamato-buchou?” came a voice from inside. Seiichi frowned: the strange guy was even Seigaku’s captain. No wonder they never seemed to make it very far despite their reputation. It took serious focus to win matches.
“Settling in then, Tezuka-kun? I brought up your roommate for the week.”
Seiichi, with a nasty suspicion hanging over him, stepped into the room far enough to see around Yamato.
“You!” Tezuka exclaimed, looking horrified.
“I could say the same,” Seiichi snapped back. “At least I’m a regular on my team.”
“I see you two know each other then,” Yamato said. The idiot was still beaming at them. “I’ll see you at supper then. It would be sensible to be a bit early since I’m sure Ryuzaki-sensei will want to say a few words.”
“Aa,” Tezuka agreed. “I’ll have the first draft of the assignment for you by then, Yamato-buchou.”
Yamato nodded to him and closed the door firmly behind him. Seiichi and Tezuka stared at each other.
“I didn’t choose this room,” Tezuka blurted at last.
“Nor did I,” Seiichi agreed grimly. Of all the people he could be sharing with, it just had to be the one who stalked off in a huff the last time he saw him after insulting what Rikkai stood for. Honestly, Seiichi would rather be sharing with one of the weirdoes from Rokkaku, or even worse Yamabuki, than with Tezuka.
“We’ll just have to ignore each other as best we can,” Tezuka said, sounding resolved as he turned back to whatever he was working at, balancing a clipboard on his knees.
“Aa.”
Seiichi resolutely turned his back and began unpacking. Damn it, he’d been looking forward to this training camp!
Just as he was finishing his unpacking and getting his laptop out of his bag, Tezuka stood up.
“I’m going to practice,” he said, scooping up his racket and marching out without waiting for a reply.
Seiichi opened his laptop on the small bedside table and plugged in the connection wire, removing the phone there already. This top facility was used by adults as well, so facilities like broadband access were provided as a matter of course and his mother insisted that he keep in touch. She’d given up hoping that his mobile battery would be charged when he needed it - simple facts like that paled into insignificance when faced with a week of almost non-stop training.
As the laptop booted, he glanced around the room. Either Tezuka had brought very little with him, he hadn’t unpacked or he was scarily neat. The only bit of mess around was the clipboard he’d left lying on the bed. Seiichi looked at it. He had to admit he was tempted to see what Tezuka was doing for his captain.
He gave in. One look wouldn’t hurt anything and the other boy would be out for a while and would never know. Absentmindedly, he logged onto msn and looked down the sheet of paper. It appeared to be thoughts on a team line up. Yamato wasn’t on there, so presumably this would be ideas for next year’s team or even the one after. Another sheet contained tournament like groups of players and scribbled annotations as to Tezuka’s predictions for who would top the group. Seiichi couldn’t believe it - this was Seigaku’s line-up!
He scanned down his contact list on messenger desperately. Yes, he was online.
Ace: Renji! You there?
TheMaster: Aren’t you at training camp?
Ace: On my laptop. Rooming with Tezuka from Seigaku - the other guy with the State of Self Actualisation. Not impressed but he leaves team lists lying around.
TheMaster: anything interesting?
Ace: a few predictions. Tezuka seems to think that the regulars next year will have current first years on it. One’s him - which is predictable enough. Do you know anything about an Oishi?
TheMaster: one moment, will check notes
TheMaster: Oishi Syuichiroh, doubles specialist. Apparently Tezuka’s best friend - went to elementary school with him. No known standard partner as yet. Impressively precise but lacks imagination
Ace: you’re a very useful person to have around, you know? How about Inui?
Ace: Renji?
Ace: Are you still there?
TheMaster: Inui Sadaharu. He was my doubles partner before I came to Rikkai. I don’t think he’ll be a threat to you. Was there anyone else?
Ace: Fuji
TheMaster: it’s a common name. The only Fuji I can think of with a reputation as a tennis player would be Fuji Syuusuke, the boy who won all the Chiba tournaments last year. I would have thought he’d be at Rokkaku though. Never seen him play but he’s called a genius, specialises in counter tennis.
Ace: it doesn’t really matter, I’m just curious
TheMaster: you’re always curious
Ace: the last one is Kikumaru
TheMaster: you’ve stumped me. Give me a moment to run a search online.
TheMaster: a basic search doesn’t turn up anyone related to tennis. Seigaku’s gymnastics captain is Kikumaru Yoshiro but he’s a 3rd year, he’ll have graduated by next year.
Ace: we’ll find out, if they ever get far enough to play us
Ace: got to go - promised to email mum when I arrived but got distracted. Say hi to Genichirou. Talk later?
TheMaster: if you’re not too busy.
[Ace is offline and may not reply
Seiichi replaced the clipboard on Tezuka’s bed and sat back with a sigh. Honestly, how did that idiot plan on being captain if he was that careless.
When Tezuka came back later, he looked very hard at the clipboard before he slipped it into his tennis bag, presumably to give to Yamato later.
“I don’t mind if you’ve looked at that,” he said, not looking around. “By the time we play each other you’ll have had a chance to find out anything that might be on that sheet anyway.”
Seiichi flushed slightly, though he wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment at being caught or anger at himself for not realising what Tezuka had so casually pointed out. The two teams weren’t even in the same prefecture, let alone the same district. It would have been a moment’s work to check the names of the regulars in the first match of the season, or even to have sent a pre-regular to scout them. That was what pre-regs were for, after all.
That evening, they sat pointedly at opposite ends of the table and scowled in unison as Ryuzaki-sensei read out the group lists and proclaimed them stuck together. Even better, Yamato was in their group as well. Seiichi kept track until the end - Suzuki-buchou and one of the doubles pair - Tanaka - were in one group, he was in another and the other doubles player, Takahashi, was in the third. He was completely isolated, stuck in the Seigaku group with Seigaku’s coach.
Why had he ever looked forward to this training camp?
Suzuki’s group was lead by Sakaki Taro, Hyotei’s coach. He was tall and fit and, despite his overly foppish dress, looked like he was capable of playing a three set tennis match against any of his students.
The second coach was Rikkai’s own head coach, Takahashi-sensei, a former pro who had a reputation for only accepting the best as his pupils. He was in charge of the regulars, leaving the rest of the club to his deputies. Seiichi had lost more than one set to him in the past and, while he didn’t agree with all of his training methods, had a fair amount of respect for him.
By contrast, Ryuzaki-sensei was a middle-aged woman in a faded tracksuit who looked like she’d seen better days. He had no idea how she could be expected to coach boys at the top of their age group. After all, it would be an unusual female player who could take on even a regular from one of the unseeded schools in Kantou.
Really, it was no wonder Seigaku weren’t doing well, with this coach and an idiot for a captain. Tezuka had chosen that over Rikkai’s legend? Seiichi sighed. This was worse than he thought: he wasn’t sharing a room with an idiot but with a madman.
“Why so down, Yukimura-kun?” came a soft voice from behind him as they were walking out. He spun abruptly to see Yamato smiling at him. “Upset at not being with your team mates? Suzuki asked me to keep an eye on while you’re in my group - you can consider yourself a member of my team, if you want.”
Seiichi blanched, muttered something about going to train and fled back to the room. Once there, he flung himself blindly on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He only hoped there would be a few good practice matches in the next few days or it might have been a complete waste of time. Hate though he did to admit it, the thought of another match with Tezuka did appeal. The other boy did something strange with his State of Self Actualisation which was like nothing either Seiichi or Genichirou had managed, even though they’d both learned to control it.
Matches aside, he was quite glad that Tezuka seemed to be avoiding him, if only because it made his life so much easier. He doubted Tezuka was actually training - they were going to be doing nothing else for the next few days and Takahashi-sensei had advised all his players to restrict themselves to putting all their effort into the scheduled training in order to benefit the most - and wondered what he could be doing instead. After all, there were no other boys their age there, only a couple of girls who’d volunteered to help with the management, and he doubted many of the seniors would be happy to hang around with an antisocial no-name like Tezuka.
Seiichi glanced at the clock. It was still far too early to think about turning in and yet he knew Renji would be working and Genichirou would be having a kendo lesson with his father. A walk was about all he could do for entertainment: he knew that there were more than a few of the others who resented his success, so company was not something he was after.
It was a large facility that they had here, one of professional standards, so there would be courts to spare for all of the players to be doing singles training at once. One or two of the others were on court, doing light rallies, more as a form of socialising than of training. Seiichi paused to admire the near-perfect form of Matsushita, Hyotei’s captain, even at his most relaxed. He’d lost to Suzuki in Singles 1 of the Kantou final in a tiebreak this year but no one doubted his status as a National level player. Indeed Hyotei were predicted to go far in the National tournament itself, though Rikkai, as Kantou’s champions, were seeded second.
He raised a hand to wave as Rokkaku’s top doubles pair jogged past him together. They’d actually beaten Rikkai’s pair in the semi-finals this year and were probably the top pair in the region this year.
Seiichi wasn’t surprised at all at the people who were outside: it was the serious players who were here to train, not waste their time watching television or muck around playing games in the common rooms. Although none of them were training their bodies, he could see them all focussing, ready for the days to come.
Hearing voices as he neared the corner at the end of the first block of courts, Seiichi peered around the corner to see Suzuki and Yamato sitting against the fence. Yamato was talking quietly, gesturing absently, while Suzuki was listening carefully, making the occasional remark. Seiichi decided he really didn’t want to know and walked quickly on, taking care to be as quiet as possible.
He sighed as he reached the end of the training grounds: there was no way he’d disobey the coach’s orders so there was really nothing left for him to do now he’d exhausted the possibilities for his walk but return to the room and its uncomfortable silence.
As he passed back around the dormitory building again, the voices from the courts fading away, his attention was caught by the rhythmic sound of a ball striking the wall repeated. He paused at a distance and watched curiously.
Tezuka, his bag abandoned to one side, was playing against the wall, alternating forehands and backhands. He’d marked a point, perhaps with chalk, and every shot was hitting the tiny mark. Seiichi shrugged and turned away. Maybe Tezuka was training but he wasn’t doing anything special - Seiichi himself had been capable of that kind of precision since he was eight. These days he could do it easily at twice the distance.
The day at the training camp began early. Seiichi was woken by the blaring of what he assumed to be Tezuka’s alarm. He rolled over, arm shielding his eyes from the light that Tezuka had flicked on, to see the other boy already out of bed and pulling on his jacket. What was it with morning people, anyway? Seiichi pulled his covers over his head and curled against the wall.
“If you don’t start moving, you’ll be late for breakfast and we’ll all have to wait for you to finish before we can start training,” Tezuka said pointedly, though he made no move to pull the covers away as most of the boys Seiichi had roomed with on school trips had done. That was one mercy, anyway.
Why did they have to wear uniforms anyway? He could see the point of banning the school colours, if only because they were on the training camp as individuals, but surely all of the boys here had other training clothes? Making him wear the same clothes as Tezuka wouldn’t help any, although he noted with a certain degree of satisfaction that Tezuka had had to tuck in his shirt as it seemed to reach most of the way to his knees. Apparently they hadn’t counted on any freshmen coming when they placed the order.
There was a sharp knock on the door. Tezuka hastily moved to open it enough to see who was there.
“Just checking you kids were up,” a familiar voice said. Seiichi tumbled hastily out of bed with deeply ingrained obedience, landing in a tangled heap with his duvet on the floor. Tezuka turned at the noise, allowing the door to swing open.
“Okay there?” Suzuki-buchou asked. Even without looking, Seiichi knew he was holding back laughter.
Seiichi grunted an answer. Whether his captain knew what he was like in the morning or not, this was not the image he wanted to present.
“I’ll see you both at breakfast then, Yukimura-kun, Tezuka-kun.”
Much to Seiichi’s surprise, he wasn’t the last one down to breakfast - apparently Suzuki had a fairly good idea of how long it took him to be capable of conscious thought in the mornings. That or Renji had briefed him beforehand, which was more than likely.
The dining hall was already quite full as Seiichi paused with his tray, trying to spot a decent seat.
“Yo, Yukimura!”
Seiichi moved to join the other Rikkai players with relief, slipping into the small gap Takahashi and Tanaka made between them.
“Bright eyed as ever,” Tanaka teased as his partner started filling Seiichi’s plate for him. Seiichi batted half-heartedly at his hands, scowling when his glass was filled with milk rather than coffee.
“Do you plan on staying shorter than Yanagi-kun, then?” came the teasing question, as it did every time he was presented with milk.
Seiichi stared at the glass distastefully a while longer then downed it in one. He glared at Tanaka: really, being one of the youngest on the team seemed like an invitation to get a whole pack of annoying older brothers. His eyes slipped past him to Suzuki-buchou, who passed a croissant down to him.
“To take the taste away,” he said with a smile. Seiichi’s bad mood vanished: there hadn’t been any left when he looked around at the serving plates, a consequence of being one of the later risers.
“I wonder what they’re doing back home,” he wondered, realising that it was already 8 o’clock and practice at school would have started half an hour ago.
“If Nishiki’s keeping them to my schedule, the remaining regulars are working on the ball machines today while the pre-regs and beginners work with their coaches. Of course, that’s only once they’ve finished their laps.”
He checked his watch and finished the last of his coffee.
“We’re due to meet our groups in ten minutes,” he reminded them and the others moved from their seats, leaving Seiichi who was still trying to finish his breakfast. “Yukimura, you’re round the back of the building; Yamato said he’d be there if you needed anything.”
When he reached where Ryuzaki’s group was gathering, still somewhat bleary-eyed, Seiichi was pleasantly surprised to find that Matsushita was also there, stretching with a lanky player from Yamabuki whose name he couldn’t remember. Reassured by the familiarity, he began his own stretches just off the corner of the base line, where he always stood. Falling into his normal routine, he lifted one leg and reached out to balance himself on Sanada’s shoulder, realising just as he overbalanced that Sanada wasn’t there. A firm hand caught him and Seiichi raised his eyes to meet Tezuka’s steady gaze. Tezuka, who saw him on his feet again and then turned away.
He turned at a gentle touch on his shoulder.
“All right?” Matsushita asked. Seiichi found himself looking at the older boy’s chest and tilted his head to meet his eyes, surprised at the concern he found there. After all, while an excellent opponent, this was the captain of Rikkai’s main rival in Kanto. He nodded mutely. Matsushita looked at him appraisingly. “Try to get up a little earlier next time: you might be awake by training then.”
“Gather round!” Ryuzaki-sensei called then, coming around the building with one of the girls who’d come along as general helpers. “Have you all stretched properly? I don’t want any injuries, especially not when so many of you are playing at Nationals in a couple of weeks. We’ll start with some fitness training, namely running laps around this block of courts. Pace yourselves as you like to start off with.”
“How many do you want?” one boy asked. She eyed him with what looked like amusement.
“Just keep going until I tell you to stop.”
Seiichi’s eyes widened. How were they supposed to pace themselves if they didn’t know how long they’d be running for? He’d never done a drill like this before: at least if he was assigned a ridiculous number of laps at school he knew that he’d have to take it slow but this was just weird. From the muttering, a few of the others agreed with him. At last one of them decided to ask what must have been on all their minds. To Seiichi’s surprise, it was a relatively unimportant player and not one of the captains in the group.
“How exactly should we pace ourselves if we don’t know how far we’re running?”
Ryuzaki was definitely smiling now.
“How far do you run in a match?”
“Well,” he managed, “it depends on the opponent and whether its doubles or singles and . . .”
“Exactly, you don’t. If your match goes to a tiebreak do you plan to have no energy left because you only paced yourself for 6-4 set?”
“No but . . .“
Someone must have stopped him because he bowed slightly and started running with the rest of the group, Seiichi included, behind him.
The group of ten or so spread out quite quickly. Seiichi tucked in next to Matsushita, just behind Yamato and Tezuka who were running easily together. The pace they were going at was fast enough that he felt they were working but comfortable enough that he could keep going for a while - about the sort of pace he’d expect for 30 laps back at school.
Up in front, Yamato glanced over at Ryuzaki-sensei.
“I think we’re a little slow,” he commented, though how he could tell just from glancing at her face Seiichi couldn’t tell.
“60 second pace, then?” Tezuka asked, the pair of them suddenly pulling out in front. Seiichi stretched again to keep up with them. Apparently this exercise was sufficiently familiar for the Seigaku players that they measured their speed by how long it took them to run presumably a lap of their courts at their school and not by the number of laps they could complete maintaining the speed.
Half an hour later they were still running. One boy who’d gone out fast at the beginning had dropped out completely and was lying by the side, recovering. A couple of others had dropped back behind Seiichi’s little group. Those now at the front was a group contain Seiichi, Matsushita, the Seigaku players and two other experienced players, one from Yamabuki and one from Rokkaku.
When Ryuzaki finally called a halt, she looked them over carefully as they gathered round. There were six of them still in decent shape, four who looked decidedly tired and the one who’d dropped out, though Seiichi wasn’t sure if that was because he was unfit or because he was simply unable to pace himself.
“We’ll start practice matches now, while I observe and prepare your training menus for the camp. On court one, Yamato and Mizuno. Court two: Matsushita and Yukimura, court three . . .”
Their group had four courts to play on for now, so Tezuka and two others were sitting out. Seiichi was already smiling as he walked onto the court. This definitely counted as a good match - there was no way that someone who’d come that close to beating Suzuki-buchou would give him an easy game. As he took his place on the base line, he felt his focus narrowing to the point where it would take very little to push him into the State of Self Actualisation. Matsushita’s first serve whistled past his ear and Seiichi’s instincts snapped in, letting himself go with the exhilarating pace of the match.
The game ended 6-4, Matsushita’s win. It was Seiichi’s first loss in months to anyone other than Suzuki but he found himself surprisingly satisfied. He’d played well but Matsushita had simply been on another level, as expected of someone who‘d been described in the past as the number two in the tournament. Matching his standards would take a lot of training over the next few years. With any luck he’d get another shot at him this week and try and do a bit better.
Drawn almost against his will, Seiichi found himself standing at the back of A Court to watch Tezuka’s match against Yamabuki’s Moriyama. Tezuka himself was checking the strings on his racket, Yamato at his shoulder, a hand on Tezuka’s arm. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised to find Matsushita next to him, watching with interest. After all, it was hardly common for a non-regular to be invited on a training camp like this, particularly not a first year, since that would normal imply that they were the ninth strongest on their team and not even Rikkai was strong enough to have that many players invited.
As the game started, Seiichi frowned.
“He’s playing worse that was a year ago!”
Not that that seemed to be bothering him much - Yamabuki’s Singles 1, who’d given Matsushita a decent game at the Prefecture finals, was unmistakably losing. Within fifteen minutes, Tezuka was 4-1 up. At the same time, there was something strange about Tezuka’s play, not just that he wasn’t using the State of Self-Actualisation that Seiichi knew that he was easily capable of.
“You’ve played him before, Yukimura-kun?”
“Once, and we didn’t finish the match.”
“How good would you estimate Tezuka-kun to be, then, if this isn’t his best?”
“We were evenly matched then. I’ve improved this year but I’m sure I was stronger than that last year.”
As Tezuka dropped the sixth game and walked back, rubbing his left elbow, Seiichi realised what was strange and turned to look at Yamato, who was standing next to Ryuzaki at the courtside, looking concerned.
“I would have sworn that Tezuka was a southpaw,” he said at last, causing Matsushita’s eyes to shoot back to the match with disbelief.
“He’s that good with his weak arm? But why wouldn’t he play with his dominant arm - none of us here would welcome the handicap?”
“It looks like Moriyama needs it, though.”
“True. Maybe Ryuzaki asked him to make the game closer,” Matsushita conceded: this match was one-sided enough even with the handicap.
The rounds of matches continued until Ryuzaki called a break for lunch, after which they gathered on the courts again. Because of the way the timetable had worked out, Ryuzaki’s group wouldn’t get time in the gym until the evening.
Ryuzaki had by now prepared them individual sets of exercises but she still sent Tezuka and Seiichi off to play a practice match, with Yamato - the odd player -watching.
Seiichi prepared for the game with a confused mind, particularly when Tezuka stepped up to serve with the racket in his right hand. Surely he didn’t think that he could beat him with his weaker arm? Seiichi was a national class player, singles 2 on a team predicted to reach the national finals.
Seiichi was 3-0 up when Tezuka’s head dropped slightly and his eyes flicked momentarily to Yamato.
“As expected of Rikkai’s Yukimura,” he said, sounding mildly amused if nothing else, and switched to his left hand. “Let’s play with no regrets.”
Seiichi was considerably more satisfied with the match after that but it still wasn’t all he’d imagined. Tezuka was using some strange technique that seemed to draw all of Seiichi’s shots back to him - challenging but not unbreakable - but there was still no sign of the State of Self Actualisation and even the basic shots lacked a certain power that he’d expected.
Still, he laughed out loud when Tezuka played a no-bounce drop shot and promptly served a no touch ace past him.
“Game and set, Yukimura 6-2,” Tezuka said after the last ball passed him. Despite losing by so much, he seemed satisfied as he was pulled hastily to one side by Yamato after they shook hands. Seiichi watched curiously as Yamato helped Tezuka out of his jacked and seemed to examine Tezuka’s left elbow, which Seiichi now noticed had a support on.
“Let’s just hope that he didn’t stretch himself too much trying to show you his tennis,” Ryuzaki’s voice came quietly from behind him. Seiichi’s eyes widened - Tezuka had been playing with that serious an injury? That said, he had seen Tezuka’s tennis: something that was purely Tezuka’s, not helped along by the subconscious skills from the State of Self Actualisation. Apparently, no harm had been done as after a short break Tezuka joined them in drills for the rest of the afternoon.
In their room that night, Seiichi decided to satisfy his curiosity.
“So you’re injured? How’d that happen?”
“I was hit by a racket.”
“Heh, you must suck at doubles.”
“It wasn’t a training accident,” Tezuka said, his voice completely flat.
“Someone hit you deliberately!?!”
“One of the worst of the non-regular seniors wasn’t pleased that a freshman beat him. It’ll heal in time.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if you’d come to Rikkai.”
“Maybe not,” Tezuka conceded, mouth quirking slightly as Seiichi’s eyes widened at the concession. “But then in Rikkai I probably wouldn’t have touched my racket yet this year for anything other than stroke practice.”
“Hey, we aren’t prejudiced against freshmen. There’s three of us on the team this year.”
“Rikkai’s three demons, I know. I think we’ve all heard of you. However, I wouldn’t have been admitted to the pre-regular group in the first place, so I wouldn’t even have had the opportunity to challenge for a position.”
“Huh, why not? You’re easily good enough.”
“Not all of us were lucky enough to train with a recognised coach or enter all the junior tournaments. I asked when I looked around Rikkai and unless you had either the record or a professional recommendation from your coach, you were treated as a novice, regardless of your ability.”
“You asked Takahashi-sensei?”
“Aa. He explained it to me then: your tennis club has so many members that he couldn’t give one prospective member special treatment. I think I prefer Seigaku’s system anyway.”
“What do you mean? You’d rather be at a school where the seniors will wreck your arm?”
Tezuka turned the light off and made as if to go bed. It was a few moments before his reply came in the dark room.
“At Seigaku, most players are starting more or less from scratch - we don’t get the same set of champions as you. But because none of us have that pressure, Seigaku’s members are there because they love tennis: the general atmosphere is better. Good night.”
Seiichi lay there awake in the darkness for a while. He supposed it was true, what Tezuka had said. The regulars and pre-regulars - those with tennis scholarships and titles under their belts - tended to go off and do serious training while the ordinary club members collected balls, did stroke practice and practiced the tennis squad’s cheers.
Still, he couldn’t really believe that someone as talented as Tezuka wouldn’t have had enough experience behind him to qualify as a pre-regular. Surely Takahashi-sensei would have noticed his potential in the first training session? Besides, if someone was truly good, wouldn’t they get promoted? After all, why else did they divide the club into groups based on standard?
Besides, weren’t Rikkai’s players there because they loved tennis? There couldn’t be that much difference, even if Seigaku’s players were all complete amateurs. It did explain why they struggled to progress through the rounds - how could they expect to beat regulars from serious schools who’d been training under exceptional coaches since they could walk?
It was too much to think about after a long day training, Seiichi decided, rolling over to sleep. Still, maybe Tezuka wasn’t that bad. If Takahashi-sensei had told Seiichi he couldn’t play tennis if he came, he’d probably have run off to somewhere like Seigaku himself!
The next morning, Seiichi found himself sitting next to Yamato at breakfast. He wasn’t quite sure how it had happened: Tezuka had apparently set his alarm early since they both made it to breakfast with plenty of time to spare but Seiichi still wasn’t particularly alert.
“Good morning, Yukimura-kun,” Yamato said cheerfully. Seiichi tried very hard not to scowl at him, if only because Suzuki wouldn’t approve. He could have guessed that he’d be a morning person, he was certainly annoying enough.
“Yamato-san.”
“So how are you enjoying the training camp so far?”
“It’s good. I’ve wanted to play Matsushita-san for months now but I didn’t expect to ever get the chance with Suzuki-buchou around.“
“I thought you’d enjoy the practice matches. What about the rest of it?”
Seiichi thought for a moment before answering.
“It’s very different from what we normally do at school. I think because we’re left to ourselves more: Ryuzaki-sensei doesn’t supervise us as I was expecting.”
“I imagine that it’s more of a Seigaku style of training. We only have the one coach for the whole club so a lot more responsibility is given to the captain and the regulars in particular. If you want to improve, you’ll work at it; if you don’t then you’ll slack off and gain very little from it. It’s one way of spotting who’s serious.”
Seiichi thought about the other players in their group. When they’d been sent off to do what Ryuzaki-sensei called self-training, a couple of them had just gone to play practice matches rather than work through the recommended exercises on the training menu and spend time on stretches and the like and now that it had been pointed out to him, it had been the top players who’d been training as she expected. It was certainly a very different approach from Rikkai, who had the coaches to spare to supervise drills and correct any minor mistakes in form or technique. He wasn’t sure that he’d always want to train this way but it was certainly fascinating to find out about, so he listened as Yamato described how Ryuzaki’s approach at this camp compared to her normal style at Seigaku.
Seiichi walked out to the courts with Suzuki-buchou, since both groups were starting outside.
“Buchou?”
“Hmm?”
“Why is Yamato-san here? He’s not exactly a great player.”
Suzuki laughed.
“That would depend on how you defined it but no, he’s never going to be able to beat me or say Matsushita. On the other hand he’s a very disciplined player: he’s fit and has good form.”
That was true: even with the advantage of being used to the style of training, Yamato hadn’t lagged behind the group on the previous day. On the contrary, he’d been one of those setting the general pace.
“But surely that’s not enough to get selected? There have to be better players out there, Nishiki-senpai for one.”
“It’s enough for the coaches to use as an excuse. My guess is that Yamato’s here because there’s a lot that he can teach the rest of us about the mental side of the game, as you’d expect from Seigaku’s captain.”
“Seigaku?”
“Mm. My captain told me that since Seigaku don’t have the facilities or the coaches, everything they do is through sheer guts and determination. You’d be surprised how far mental strength can take you against players who are technically much stronger. It’s one of the reasons that I requested that you be placed in Yamato’s group: Tezuka-kun being there as well was just a bonus. He’ll probably drag you off for a serious conversation sometime: I agreed to trade off.”
“What, me for Tezuka?”
“Yamato asked me to talk to him about dealing with his injury, ways to minimise the risk of straining it, that sort of thing. In exchange he’s going to make you think a bit. It’ll probably take a while to sink in - Yamato’s quite the philosopher when it comes to tennis and he tends to be a bit obscure.”
Seiichi sighed. He’d much rather be on court than sitting around thinking about it.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Which reminds me that sometime I need to talk to you about some of the things you’ll need to know about when you’re captain: the opposition, advising on the line-up, that sort of thing. Come and find me sometime this evening and we’ll start going through it. And now you‘d better get going or Ryuzaki will start on the punishment laps again.”
With that, he ruffled Seiichi’s hair affectionately and gave him a gentle shove towards where Tezuka was leaning against the fencing, waiting for him. However well Suzuki seemed to get on with them, Seiichi didn’t have to like Seigaku to learn from them and if Suzuki thought it was worth it he’d give it a shot. With any luck he could request a match from Tezuka as soon as he was healed.
At lunch that day, Ryuzaki’s group sat outside on the grass by the courts to eat their sandwiches. Tezuka was sitting quietly on the edge of the group; Seiichi somehow found himself sitting next to Yamato.
“Ne, Yukimura-kun?”
“Yes?” Seiichi said suspiciously. Was this what Suzuki-buchou had warned him about?
“Why do you play tennis?”
“Huh?”
“Surely there must be some reason why you choose to spend so many hours on it? Or do you just play because your father wants you to?”
Seiichi spluttered for a few moments, then paused to think about it. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before - playing tennis was simply something that he’d always done. If he wasn’t playing tennis or at school he was either sleeping or eating, that was simply how his life was. He really ought to try to explain somehow - after all, Suzuki was expecting it.
“Without tennis, I am nothing,” he managed, struggling to vocalise I don‘t know why I play, I just can‘t imagine not playing.”
“I wondered if you’d say that,” Yamato said. “I’ve been thinking about it since Tezuka-kun told me that you could enter the State of Self-Actualisation. From what I understand of tennis, it’s a technique which is about acceptance, would you agree with that?”
Seiichi nodded: it was about being empty, having nothing in your mind except the game and letting the moves happen instinctively. He supposed you had to be accepting to allow that to happen.
“I think that to accept something that freely, without resistance, you have to love tennis. That, I think, is the most important thing. That and one other. When you play an opponent who is equally matched with yourself - and that will someday happen even to you - your technique, stamina, strength: all those may become irrelevant. When nothing else remains, there is nothing left but your belief in yourself and your love for your tennis. In the end, I think that that‘s what‘s important in a match, to be true to yourself.”
Yamato looked up at the sky.
“Next year, it won’t be Suzuki, Matsushita and I who set the tone for tennis in Kanto. It’s nice to know that those who are succeeding us live tennis as much as we do,” he said, then looked over at Seiichi, flashing as smile at him. “Think on it, Yukimura-kun.”
Seiichi watched as he lay back on the grass, apparently with his eyes shut, though with the sunglasses it was hard to tell. So, being a strong player was all about loving tennis, was it? He wasn’t entirely sure that he agreed with that: there were plenty of people who loved tennis, who lived tennis even, but who never really made it. It seemed a bit simplistic to him. Still, it had given him plenty to think about.
As Seiichi was about to get into Suzuki-san’s car at the end of the training camp, he turned with a smile.
“Tezuka, remember that match you promised me.”
“Aa.”
“I’ll see you at Nationals next year then.”
“Kanto first, Yukimura-kun,” Tezuka pointed out, his voice level but his eyes burning. “Districts, Tokyo, Kanto and then Nationals.”
“Of course. And Tezuka, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other in the next few years: go ahead and call me Seiichi.”
“Seiichi-kun, then.”
“See you then. Good luck with your training.”
“Good luck with Nationals.”
Seiichi shook Tezuka’s hand, noting his firm grip and the intense look in his eyes. It seemed that Tezuka was already
eyeing him as though they were facing off across a court. That suited Seiichi fine: he was looking forward to playing Tezuka’s
Seigaku and he now had no doubt that eventually, Tezuka would indeed bring them high enough to face Rikkai evenly. He just
had to keep working in preparation for that time.