Lords of Aorangi Pavillion
By Ovis

Chapter I

If you had accepted, we would've been unstoppable. You and I could've coexisted, and this hollow loneliness clawing my innards raw wouldn't be my largest issue day in and day out. On the morning you left, I sent a letter. "I will accept for the both of us," I penned in English, "I will see this experience through with my own eyes, and perhaps, in three years, tell you where this road would have led you."

Tuning out the voices during homeroom, I watched as dust particles danced above my novel, illuminated by the sharp angle of the morning sun. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oshitari sauntering towards me.

"Good morning, Fuji," he enunciated, Kansai accent thick with self-importance.

I smiled. "Hello."

"I discovered something interesting yesterday." Unwisely, he decided to take the unoccupied seat behind me. I could feel my weight repelling his close proximity as he leaned in, velvety voice inches from my right ear.

"You will be in the lower half of the draw today. Atobe is in your section."

Slowly, I put my book down, taking my time to slacken into the chair. "Saa, Oshitari, I've always wanted to know."

"What's that?"

"Does my hair smell nice from where you're sitting?"

Running a hand over the chain-linked fence, I stared down at Tokyo's National Tennis Academy grounds. The sun was setting fast, running a diamonded pattern across the hard-court surface.

Now, what was wrong with this?

I watched as several players rallied on the courts below, applauses from the sidelines and ball-racket impact reaching my ears. Turning to leave for home, I switched the heavy tennis bag from right to left. Seems I have a problem letting go.

"Fuji Syusuke, is it?"

Sanada Genichirou stood facing me in a red and white uniform, bag slung over a shoulder and hands inside pockets. Sharp eyes drifted to the insignia on my chest. "…What are you doing here?"

His tone was direct, but the hostility was lacking. "Does your school prohibit visitors, Sanada-kun?"

The taller boy didn't miss a heartbeat. "You're in Hyoutei now, aren't you?" When I stayed silent, he lowered his voice. "I heard you're on some kind of mission to avenge your former captain."

I smiled. "Saa, news sure travels fast."

Sanada took a moment to study me up and down, as if carefully weighing his next words. I interjected then, cutting the flower at the bud. "I have no intention of challenging you."

"I defeated your captain." The statement was less provoking than it was out of confusion.

"And we defeated yours. One year ago."

Something changed instantly then in the former Rikkai Dai vice captain's body language. The boy looked past the fence and came to stand next to me; shoulders losing a tension I hadn't noticed was there before.

"Sorry." There was a long pause before he added, "Your win over Atobe has gotten a lot of players riled up here. Congratulations on making the team."

"I won't hold it against you," I smiled, ignoring the latter. Though I could sense his burning anticipation for a detailed match summary, he kept it to himself and instead asked, "So what would you like to know?"

I voiced my question.

"… That's all?"

"Aa. That's all."

Sanada considered his answer for a moment. Readjusting his tennis cap, he turned around. "Let's talk about this somewhere else."

Hyoutei is a school of professionals, was what I deduced. There is an elegant ease with which the students carry themselves here. And although it seems an eternally floating cloud of arrogance drifts whichever way I walk, there is strangely no deception in their manners. Save for perhaps Oshitari, who, as luck would have it, inhabits the same classroom as me, what you see is mostly all that's there. Because wearing everything in broad daylight is the surest way to garner everyone's attention.

"Regulars, line up."

Gathering in front of the coach's bench, I took my place beside my senpai, Atobe on my other side. Sasaki-sensei gracefully pulled out a small yellow paper from his breast pocket.

"This is the order for tomorrow's preliminary match against Hitobashi kotogatto. Singles one, Furukawa Jomei… Singles two, Ohashi Yoshihiro… Singles three, Ato-"

The third year regulars shifted. The captain will play doubles. It looks like they'll put me in Doubles two.

"-Doubles one," he continued, fixating a staid gaze at me, "Tamiya Akihito-buchou, Fuji Syusuke pair… Doubles-"

Or that. How interesting.

I felt several pairs of eyes on me, a hushed murmur around the courts. Every mind echoed one question: Why such a risky move this early in the tournament? Sasaki-sensei finished and briefed us on the meeting point and bus schedule. I listened with half a mind as Atobe's shadow stretched on a diagonal, distorting the ends of my shoes.

"You're dismissed."

The rows snaked apart, and immediately, the monkey king confronted me. "Fuji," he droned, voice dripping with superiority. "I'm looking forward to our rematch."

"Saa, Atobe. I don't want to embarrass you twice."

The taller boy snorted. I fell into step with him as we headed towards the locker room. Atobe leaned against my unit, officiously watching as I packed my belongings.

"For all your chicanery, I have this feeling you only work if a carrot is dangled in front of you. Am I right? If not for Tezuka, or whatever else you're planning to get out of this, what would it normally take for you to play me seriously?"

Hn.

"Oh, I think the sound of your voice will be quite enough." I turned to look him straight in the eyes. He smirked, unaffected.

"What a frightening expression! Seems I've hit the nail on the head," he averred, silent anger betraying the darkened triumph in his eyes. "You may think Tezuka as invincible, Fuji, but for all his talents and greatness, he failed his share as a captain. It'll take someone like me to draw it out of you. All of it."

I laughed hollowly.

Several upperclassmen averted their eyes from what they were doing, to the two of us.

"What is so bloody funny, eh?"

I smiled. "Please take care of me then."

Tamiya-senpai greeted me in the hallway en route to the music room. "How's my favorite kouhai, hm?"

For one reason or another, the captain had made his preference for me known off the courts. Unfortunately, it was also much to the chagrin of several underclassmen, all of whom had been around longer than me, worked harder than me, or played brilliant tennis. It hadn't been my intention to draw this much attention to myself, but things look to be more and more that way.

I will have to be careful.

Tamiya-senpai's nickname for himself was bipolar. It's a bit of a running gag between the third year regulars and his other friends. He is pleasant and approachable anywhere outside of tennis. As captain, however, he ruthlessly slave-drives the team, to the point my legs scream when I climb the stairs and Atobe grimaces when he sits down. His words are brutally direct, even cruel, but at the same time, he holds no personal grievances afterwards.

"I'll see you at tennis practice, senpai."

The sight of his back against the vaulted backdrop of the school was a kingly spectacle. His wild ashen hair went slightly down past his neck, normally tied when we were paired for tennis. Also a southpaw.

I smiled to myself. I can't quite entertain the idea of playing with you. It just doesn't seem right.

There was a strong wind today. I stepped outside onto the grass and crossed down to the small courtyard. Tapping Jirou's auburn hair lightly, I took a seat across from him at the table. He stirred, groggily wiping the saliva off his chin.

I smiled. Like sleeping beauty.

"Ohayo, Fuji," he greeted with a yawn, beaming over his folded arms.

Our classes shared the same lunch hour, though Jirou spent most of it catnapping than anything else. I was content on recharging outside. Staying in a classroom all day with Oshitari's ego, trying to psychoanalyze my every move, was never a healthy thing.

"Is it time to go yet?" I shook my head, feeling a sudden vibration against my leg. My eyes flew to the entrance where two staff workers had their backs to us.

"Sorry, just a minute." I brought the screen under the table, reading the message and scanning it a second time.

Meet me after practice. I have an answer to your question.

Ah, finally, the truth.

Jirou waited patiently, slowly swinging a leg side to side as he watched me. I put the phone away. "Na, Fuji, I'm kind of excited."

"Oh? Why's that?" I copied his body posture, sinking down to meet his eyes and resting both arms on the table.

"Intra-school rankings."

I smiled. Contrast to his slothful appearance, Jirou was just as, if not more, eager to start playing again, despite not having made the team or even assistant regulars. Hyoutei's system was strange in that it allowed recommended first years to participate. Age had no importance so long as one could secure the win for the school.

"I want to leave the ball chasing to some other poor first year, it's so boring."

"I'll cheer you on then."

"Ahh, sankyu."

The wind breathed life into the empty square, swirling bits of leaves around the asphalt.

"Saa, I wonder what will happen to our strange little team," I murmured slowly. "I was just getting used to having third years, a monkey, and a captain who plays doubles with his kouhai."

"Eh? Monkey?"

Jirou's eyes danced with amusement, head relaxing into his arms. I was grateful he tolerated my stabs at his former captain. I did try to behave myself… most of the time.

"Na, Fuji. Atobe will probably demand you two be in the same quarter of the draw again. He's been unusually quiet these last few days. It probably means he's got something tucked up his sleeve for you."

"Really, I hadn't noticed the quiet part."

The boy laughed, failing to stifle his delight. "Think what you want, Fuji, but…" Jirou sat up to rest a grinning face in his palm.

"Atobe likes you." He stated this simply, without any reservations.

...

The boy leaned forward. "Surprised? I'll let you in on something. He completely humiliated my classmate for saying something about ore-sama's teammate."

I quickly recovered. "Shall I give him a handkerchief for defending my honor then?"

"Ugh, see? This is exactly what I'm talking about. This," he pointed at me. "This thing you do with him," Jirou circled his hand in the air, now excited.

"Disagree?" I provided.

"Yea, I think he kind of enjoys it. No person has ever had enough guts or the brains to talk back to Atobe."

I laughed. I restrained myself from telling him you didn't need brains to talk to Atobe. Then again, perhaps I was the fool here, for quarreling with a primate.

"Tamiya-buchou favors you too. Why do you think you're not half-dead in a gutter somewhere? Genius," the boy prodded affectionately.

I smiled. I decided then that I liked Jirou. This would be a good friendship.

"It's not bad for us either. Though you definitely rank up there, Tamiya-buchou's had scarier rookies on his team. And it's always brought him to Nationals."

"I don't quite follow."

Jirou grinned. "Ah, you don't know. Senpai was once the captain of Rikkai Dai."

Something is ironic in the world, and it has to do with the fact that what you intend never comes out like you intend it.

I retraced the words over and over slowly with my pen, quoting the American photographer.

I tore out the page from my notebook, crumpling it. With a little more force than necessary, I threw it towards the fence. It bounced and fell short of the trash. I sat back into the bench, making no move to get up. Encasing my arms around a leg, I pressed my forehead into my knee, ignoring the burn of the sunset against my back.

Footsteps closed in.

"You shouldn't litter, Fuji." Sanada bent down to retrieve my crinkled paper, putting it in where it belonged.

"I don't like your school." The taller boy took a seat beside me, tennis bag landing with a dull thud at his feet.

"So you'll throw trash here, or do you have another reason?"

I fell silent, feeling slightly childish. I've had this feeling before somewhere, but I can't pinpoint it.And yet, it's not quite the same. Depression gnawed and did turns in my stomach.

Tezuka… it's Tezuka isn't it?

"Sorry, I don't feel very good today."

Sanada let it go at that, choosing not to reply. It was a strange friendship we had forged. The other boy was very straight; if it wasn't black to him, than it was obviously white. For that reason, or perhaps another, somewhere down the line my body had decided on its own to stop dressing up any actions around Sanada. It just wasn't necessary.

Of course, it irritated me that I had such little control. It was like trying to pull an army together, only to find that you had no men. I wondered sometimes if he thought me far stranger than I usually allowed. And though nothing harmful would come of it, talking to Sanada could sometimes be like kicking a stone wall. It was a losing situation.

A familiar one, because it described my relationship with Yuuta perfectly.

"Did something bad happen?" Sanada asked slowly, as if unsure of his own sudden and very rare display of thoughtfulness.

I looked up to meet his eyes. He stared back expectantly. I smiled, deciding not to prolong his discomfort. That said was enough for me.

"Iie, I feel better now."

Confusion spread across his features as he frowned, looking straight ahead. "Na, Sanada, did you eat yet?"

I furiously shook the chili bottle, squeezing all the remaining sauce into my bowl. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Sanada looked up from his noodles, trying hard to keep a straight-face.

"Which one of you did Tamiya-buchou favor in middle school?" I asked, stirring the contents around.

The taller boy furrowed his eyebrows, surprised. "Yukimura," he answered without hesitation.

"Ah… that explains a lot. It looks to be a small world after all." When I failed to elaborate, he decided against pursuing the topic.

The wind had changed. I had noticed early on that Sanada would tighten his mouth just a fraction at the mention of his former captain. He never talked about Yukimura's whereabouts, though the subject had come up on more than one occasion.

For once, I didn't push, choosing instead to indulge him in our tacit dance around it.

"Play a match with me, Fuji."

I kept my eyes on the bowl, watching pieces of fish scale float atop. The idea of declining entertained my initial reaction, but I quickly squashed the thought. Sanada waited patiently for my answer.

It was a while before I replied. "And if I win, you'll tell me your answer."

He shook his head. "I'll tell you regardless. I'm preparing for a junior tournament in Kooyong."

Ah, so I was a stepping stone to Australia. I didn't really take offense to it though.

What initially started as a dull throb in my stomach now pulsated harder and harder against my chest. It's as if… for some reason, I had already experienced this part of my life and already knew what the outcome would be.

"Na, Sanada."

"What?" the emperor inquired.

"Say hello to Tezuka for me."