All the Difference

Summary: A chance encounter changes the course of history for Fuji Syusuke and the tennis clubs of Seishun Gakuen and Rikkaidai Fuzoku.
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi, not me.
A/N: For longer (much longer) author's notes, please see the homepage listed in my profile. I'll look forward to any questions, comments or suggestions you may have.
Dedication: To Konomi-sensei, for creating these wonderful characters, and all fanfiction writers, who breathe new life into them every day.

Prologue: Evaluation

September 18, 2005

"Welcome to Kaishuu Tennis Center."

Sharp eyes ignored the respectful bow of the receptionist in favor of immediately beginning his examination of the facilities. Upon first glimpse, the brightly lit interior and gleaming equipment was evidence of the care that the facility's management invested in maintaining good conditions for the Center's patrons. It was impressive, on a superficial level. Frankly, the familiar repetitive twang of tennis balls hitting both rackets and court surfaces was more important. That people bothered to frequent this facility, above any of the others located nearby, meant that the management was doing something right to entice tennis players to keep coming back.

It was a relief. With the end of the official tournament season, it had been nice for his friend to suggest training at this facility. They both understood that their love for the sport was neither seasonal nor driven by the schedules dictated by school officials. The days turning cooler merely called for a change of venue, not a halt to his training. And his friend had known him long enough to realize that he would not be satisfied with a facility based on recommendation alone. As much as they each respected the opinion of the other, his standards were often difficult to meet when it came to tennis.

He realized he had been lingering near an open gate to a court when the unmistakable noise of a ball whizzing towards him interrupted his thoughts. With effortless fluidity, the experienced tennis player pulled one of his rackets free from his half-zippered bag and returned the ball back into the practice court it originated from. Just inside the gate was a young pigtailed girl on the ground, whimpering and rubbing the skin on her shin. It seemed obvious that she had been reaching for the errant ball and toppled to the ground instead. When the ball soared back across her head (and the net) in the opposite direction, she jerked up wearing a comically fearful expression.

The young boy smiled pleasantly, although it lacked a certain warmth to anyone that knew him well. It was a strike against the quality of this establishment if its members not only had difficulty returning balls from a pitching machine, but were incapable of keeping the gates to their courts securely closed so as to not interfere with the training of others. He didn't begrudge anyone from learning the basics at some point - he just didn't want his training to suffer on account of another player's inexperience.

The familiar whump of another ball being propelled from the pitching machine pulled him out of his tally and back to the present moment. The girl had scrambled to her feet and was rushing to switch the machine off, but she was too slow to stop it from releasing another ball. He calculated the angle and speed the ball was moving at, realizing with a grimace that he was not in the best spot to hit it back into the deuce court unless he wanted to hit the unfortunate girl. He sighed and prepared to move into a better position to return the second ball when another racket materialized in his peripheral vision. It sliced the ball over the net, much as his first ball had. The racket lowered quickly enough, allowing its owner to stride forward, swing the gate shut, and forcefully jam the latch in a locked position before another ball escaped.

"Hanaori-chan, the latch came loose again."

The girl flushed a painfully bright red and began bowing apologetically, somehow managing to avoid two additional balls that were released until she remembered that the machine was still on and finally switched it off. It was a good thing that the balls launched were on a relatively slow setting, or she probably would have several lumps on her head and back by now.

"It's amazing how she always manages to end up in this court, yet she never remembers that the latch is broken and needs to be wedged into place to prevent the door from swinging open." Fond amusement was evident in the newcomer's tone, as they both watched the young girl fix the settings on the machine and pick her racket back up to resume practicing.

Eyes low-lidded and a benign smile on his face, the girl's brunette rescuer turned to face the newcomer. "This is a surprise. What brings you all the way into Tokyo, Yukimura-kun?"

Yukimura smiled in return, injecting a bit more warmth into the expression. "Fuji-kun, correct? Scouting new training facilities, I suppose. Sanada recommended this club, so I decided to examine it for myself."

"Yes, it is very nice here. You usually don't have to worry about crowds, and there are enough courts to give you privacy if you don't want to be disturbed by other players." Fuji nodded thoughtfully. "I could show you a nice area that doesn't see much traffic."

"I would appreciate that."

The two walked in companionable silence, until Fuji stopped in front of a gate half-way down the corridor they were walking along. "If you continue this way, there are some courts in excellent condition at the end of the row. Most people don't like walking this far from the entrance, but I think you'll enjoy the seclusion. If you have any questions when you finish up, I'd be happy to try and answer them."

Yukimura thanked him and continued in the direction Fuji suggested, delighting in the court that practically gleamed under the fluorescent lighting. This would do nicely.

-----

Panting softly, Yukimura patted his face dry with a towel and then slung it around his shoulders. It had been a pleasant workout, even if it was a little shorter than he would have liked. As nice as the facilities were, he would prefer to train closer to home rather than waste time on traveling. It was a pity that many of the best clubs were located in Tokyo.

After ensuring that all of his belongings were stowed in his bag and exiting the court, Yukimura began the walk back to the entrance of the Center. To his surprise, he could still hear the tell-tale sounds of a pitching machine launching its balls coming from the court Fuji had entered earlier in the afternoon. He was impressed that the so-called "tensai" of Seigaku was still practicing at this hour. Often, whether it was in academics, athletics, or the arts, individuals received the label tensai because they had innate talent that allowed them to succeed without expending any effort.

Yukimura paused outside the fence, studying the movements of the infamous Tensai Fuji Syusuke. Undoubtedly, he possessed a certain degree of natural affinity for the sport. His movements were fluid, displaying a grace that one could not obtain through training alone. Yet, there was a power behind each of his shots that could only be the product of long training sessions, much like the one Yukimura suspected he had endured today. He was confident enough in his own abilities to be certain that he could win a match against the tensai, but it might be far more interesting that many of the matches he had played during the National Tournament. For a fleeting moment, Yukimura found himself regretting that Rikkai had defeated Seigaku in the Kanto Tournament before they reached the Singles 1 match. Although if they had, perhaps he would already have exited the building instead of standing still, considering his current train of thought.

The machine suddenly seemed to choke on air, indicating that it had used its last ball. Fuji exhaled deeply and turned to retrieve his water bottle, ever-present smile widening as he spotted Yukimura on the other side of the wire fence. With his free hand, he beckoned for the other player to come in and join him on the court-side bench.

"That last shot was very impressive. It looked like it skimmed across the top of the ground without any room to hook your racket underneath."

Fuji nodded, acknowledging Yukimura's assessment. "I call it Tsubame Gaeshi."

"One of your famed Triple Counters?"

Fuji chuckled, a few drops of water dribbling down his chin. He picked up his own towel and dried his face before answering. "I wouldn't call them famous, but yes."

"And you developed it yourself?"

Fuji again nodded.

"How innovative." Yukimura paused, wondering what Sanada or Yanagi would think of this conversation. "You know, I'd much rather see a move like that coming from someone on my team rather than the opposite side of the net."

Fuji smiled and tilted his head to the side. "Saa, you don't look like you'd be the type to wear white and blue."

Yukimura nodded. "You're right, of course. But perhaps you would consider wearing yellow and black instead?"

The brunette chuckled in response. "Don't you think it would clash with my hair?" he asked in jest.

Yukimura's silence in the wake of his response prompted Fuji to glance up. He tightened his grip on the towel, eyes fully opening to appraise the situation.

"You can't be serious."

Yukimura tilted his head, sharp eyes once again shifting to evaluate the potential in front of him. Instead of a facility, however, his target this time was a person.

"You're quite the talented player. Perhaps even better than the reputation you've unintentionally been crafting for yourself." Fuji's lips parted slightly, likely to protest Yukimura's assessment, but the Rikkai captain wasn't finished. "If that's true, and you are even better than you've shown, that raises an interesting question: why are you holding back? Your tennis will never evolve if you always lower yourself to the level of your opponents."

To most other people, Fuji's flinch in response to the disappointed and accusatory tone would have gone unnoticed. Yukimura's shrewd gaze was sharper than most. The flinch, mixed with Fuji's next statement was like an intoxicating puzzle. "Tennis should not be used to hurt people," he said softly. "If I merely play to appease my selfish whims, I risk injuring my opponents."

"I suppose that is reasonable. However, you must search out those who are equal or above your level to raise yourself to new heights. Surely someone like Tezuka would be a better challenge to your abilities than these machines?"

Again, Yukimura caught the wince before it was covered by the neutral smile Fuji had worn throughout their conversation.

"You have already played Tezuka." he stated with certainty. "But you were not happy with the results." He immediately discounted the idea that Fuji had lost to Tezuka. From what little he knew of the Seigaku player, Fuji did not seem to be the type to quash his potential merely because of a single loss on his record. The problem had to originate from within. Yukimura continued following that train of thought, manipulating it in his head like a mathematical equation. Fuji was worried that fully unleashing his tennis style would hurt his opponents, which would make him unhappy. And if he was already unhappy, the inverse of the equation would mean...

"You played Tezuka, and he was injured during your game."

Fuji directly met his gaze for the first time since they had taken seats on the bench. Yukimura was surprised at the depth of bitterness that was suddenly visible in the smaller boy's eyes.

"You heard that Tezuka was injured last year?" Yukimura nodded. It wasn't widely discussed, but word got around among the young elite players of the middle school tennis circuit when a promising player such as Tezuka was reportedly suffering from an injury on his dominant arm. The exact details remained murky, even to the point of how serious the injury really was, but foul play from a jealous competitor was the most popular theory on what could have caused it. Fuji sipped from his water bottle, then continued his story.

"Several of the sempai in our club were jealous of Tezuka's talent. They always lost to him, and that was before they found out that he had been giving them a handicap by using his right hand the whole time." Yukimura sucked in his breath. Even if he hadn't had the opportunity to briefly play Tezuka himself, the countless stories he had heard from Sanada about the upstart player named Tezuka that defeated him in the Junior Tournament would have clued him in that the stoic Seigaku player was a southpaw. Yukimura could easily see an older student taking offense at the perceived insult of a kouhai defeating them so easily that they didn't even have to use their dominant arm.

"One day after school, Tezuka and I played an unapproved match on the school grounds. I had begged him to play me, even though first years were forbidden to do so outside of the authority of the club, but he agreed anyway." If it weren't for the somber tone of Fuji's voice, Yukimura would have been tempted to laugh. Tezuka had developed something of a reputation for being a stickler for rules as Seigaku's fukubuchou and the most likely candidate for buchou in his third year. It was amusing to think that he would ignore the Club's rules if it meant the opportunity to play more tennis.

"We met. We played. And I won, six games to love."

Yukimura wanted to jerk in surprise at that bold announcement. Defeating Tezuka would have been an impressive feat in itself, but to shut him out completely? Fuji took no notice to Yukimura's shock, caught in the memories of that miserable day. "I knew something was wrong with him, but we kept playing anyway. It was only after I scored the match point that I demanded to know why he accepted the match if he wasn't going to play me seriously. And then everything fell apart when he clutched at his left elbow in pain."

Fuji swallowed, his eyes temporarily closing out of habit before opening again in an attempt to peer back into the past. "It seems that at practice earlier that day, one of those jealous sempai confronted Tezuka and yelled at him for patronizing him by using his weaker arm against the older students. That in itself wasn't new, but then the sempai took his racket and slammed it into Tezuka's elbow." Yukimura felt his blood boil in response to such a callous act of violence. Bullying of younger students was despicable in itself and not tolerated at Rikkai, but to deliberately disable an athlete in the limb they needed to compete was beyond the pale.

"He was hurt, but he still played me that day," Fuji stated forlornly. "He promised to play me again once his arm fully heals, but it's been so long now. I think it's getting worse again. I'm not sure it will ever happen."

"And so you hold back, because you fear that you will accidentally injure another of your opponents?" Fuji opened his mouth, as if he wanted to protest Yukimura's choice of phrasing, but finally clicked his teeth shut and nodded.

"Well, that's stupid."

Fuji stared in astonishment at Yukimura. To this point, Yukimura had been the epitome of a charming and polite youth. For him to suddenly insult his intelligence was as shocking as if he had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

"There are tennis players out there who are stronger than you, you know. Quite a few. Rather than wallow in a mistake that wasn't even yours and wasting your potential, you should go find them and continue to evolve." Yukimura's tone had switched from that of a congenial competitor to the unrelenting leader of the reigning national champions. "If the only reason you stay around the average players at Seigaku is because of some misguided guilt for an injury you neither caused nor chose to make worse, then everything you do here is a waste. You might as well go home and take up knitting or some other pointless activity."

Yukimura stood, frustrated with the turn the conversation had taken. Those that had no chance of winning had no right to step onto a tennis court for the purpose of competition. From what little he had seen today, Fuji was one of the few that possessed the ability to enjoy the taste of a well-deserved victory. For him to choose to halfheartedly nurture his talent and cage his potential by surrounding himself with mediocrity, all out of some misguided notion that he needed to do penance for the poor choice of another player (even one as talented as Tezuka), was the antithesis to Yukimura's tennis philosophy. He lifted his bag by its strap and lightly touched Fuji on his shoulder with his free hand. "Rikkai is strong because we don't accept anything less than the best. You wouldn't find yourself as limited in the quality of your opponents if you were to join us."

Fuji was genuinely confused. First, Yukimura insulted his intelligence. Now he was offering him a spot on his team? "You just won Nationals." He left unsaid that it was the second year in a row that Yukimura helped lead his team to capture the number one spot in the nation. Yukimura certainly knew his own record. "It's kind of you to say that, but we both know that you don't need me."

Yukimura smiled patiently, suddenly feeling as if he was trying to explain a difficult concept to Akaya rather than a player his own age. "Maybe not, but the experience would be exciting for all of us, wouldn't it? You have more potential to evolve than you're admitting to yourself, Fuji-kun. I would hate to see it go to waste."

"Thank you for your help today. Think about it, and take care."

As Yukimura settled into a seat on the train that would drop him off at a station near his house, Fuji continued to sit on the bench back at the Kaishuu Tennis Center. The brunette's eyes remained wide open; breaching the veil between past and present as he reflected on the joys and woes the sport had brought to his life. Tennis at Seigaku had never gone quite as he expected, between the failed match with Tezuka the year prior and Yuuta's refusal to join the club this year. The idea of transferring to another school should have been unthinkable, yet for the first time he found himself enticed by the idea of what playing tennis to the limits of his abilities would be like.