Love is like Tennis

Chapter 5 : Pillar for a demigod

Yukimura might just find himself hailed as a god, Raul thought to himself. His recovered vision showed him that Tezuka was on the losing end of the first set at 3 games to 1.

Even with Tezuka's unexpected mentoring the day before, he found himself forfeiting his match with the French team player after the first set. He had expected a look of disappointment from Tezuka for losing at such a disgraceful score of 6 games to 1. Especially after Tezuka took the trouble and extra hours to coach him to handle the Yucky guy's play style. But, to his surprise, Tezuka had given him a pat on the back as Tezuka guided him off the court and sat him gently down on the bench. It was only because he had been Tezuka's team-mate for the past one year that he could recognise the unspoken 'well done' that went with it, however undeserving.

Then again, that Yucky guy played some weird psycho tennis, that's for sure. But only Sanada and himself had experienced the strange hypnotic sensory deprivation. He would not have believed it if he had not experienced it for himself. He put his hands over his eyes and moaned quietly. At least he could sympathise with Sanada now. That Yucky guy cannot be a child of god, he must be the spawn of the devil!

Fortunately, only Tezuka saw his disgraceful exit. The others were still playing their first set when he forfeited. So he was the only one there when Tezuka and Yukimura requested for their match to start immediately rather than to wait for the requisite half-hour rest break between matches.

"Oh, mon Dieu ..."

Fantastic! What the hell did the Japanese do to his mind? Now he was swearing in French!

"Oh la vache!"

He turned to his left and heaved a sigh of relief. He was not crazy yet. A French player by his side was swearing softly to himself, clutching an ice-pack in his right hand.

"Comment allez vous?" he asked. He knew it meant 'how do you do?' in French. It definitely did not translate to what he meant, but it was the only French phrase he knew that might vaguely translate to asking if the guy needed medical attention.

"Tezzoo... das monster …", followed expansive hand gestures and babble of French. He mournfully showed Raul the broken string on his racquet.

"Sanada did that, huh." That much Raul could guess. Sanada's Lightning was infamous for breaking a number of racquets in practice.

"Non! Non! Tezzoo!" the French gestured accusingly at Tezuka. "Bang! Boom! Pzzzt! Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed and collapsed dramatically on the bleacher.

"No, wrong Japanese guy. Must be Sanada. Tezuka is too nice." Raul gestured to Sanada, making crosses and finger-pointings.

"Sorry you drew the unlucky straw," Edvard interjected between Raul and French player, Antoine. "You missed a good show in Court C." He shoved a clipboard into Raul's face. "Look at that!"

K. Tezuka vs A. Auclair - 6-0, 6-0.

"I've never seen Tezuka trashed anyone so fast before," Piotr chimed in.

"Man, you must have pissed Tezuka off real good," Jan added to Antoine, who looked rather bewilderedly at the incomprehensible German chatter.

"Stop that, all of you!" Sanada loomed over them sternly.

Then, he pulled Ryan, a Canadian player from the French team, over. Pointing at Antoine, he said in broken English, "Oukureya. Tezuka. Sorry tell," to their unofficial translator. "Tezuka ... GRRRR ... Not!"

Ryan frowned when Sanada growled at him. "Hey! You want to start a fight?" He stood up, matching Sanada in height and muscles. In French, he said, "Antoine, I think he wants you to apologise to that Tezuka jerk. Just say the word, man. I'll blacken his eye for you."

"Wait!" Yukimura stopped his service to address Ryan before a fist-fight broke out. "I am sure Sanada did not mean that." Switching to Japanese, he said, "Sanada, your English is terrible. You-" He was interrupted by Tezuka coming over to his side.

In better English, Tezuka addressed both teams, "Excuse me. What Sanada meant is, I wish to apologise to Antoine Auclair for my haste. I am sorry for the misunderstanding."

A formal bow and a coherent translation from Ryan quickly cleared the air up between the two teams.

"This... you?" Antoine held up an ice-pack.

"Hn," said Tezuka.

"Ah. Merci. Danke," said Antoine, pleased to find that Tezuka turned out pretty decent off the court despite his frighteningly monstrous tennis on court.

Looking at the state Antoine was in, Yukimura grinned. "I didn't know you were so eager to see me, Tezuka," said Yukimura, his voice low and suggestive.

"Do not trouble yourself," replied Tezuka off-handedly. "Let us continue."

After an hour of long rallies and deuces … "Game and set, Yukimura, seven games to six. Ten-minutes break before we continue with Set Two."

The rest of the team crowded around Tezuka's bench as he reached for this water bottle.

"Are you okay?" asked Edvard. The rest of the team peered at him with undisguised concern and curiosity.

"Yes." Tezuka was as terse and composed as usual.

"Are you sure?" persisted Raul. "Do you feel anything strange? Blurry? Weird?" He looked to Sanada for support. Surely Sanada knew what he meant. There was no way Tezuka was fine after playing a set with Yukimura. And Tezuka had gotten further into the match than both Sanada and Raul. Even Sanada was looking worriedly at Tezuka.

"I am fine," Tezuka reassured them. "I know what you mean, but I will not let it affect me."

Seeing that Tezuka was perfectly himself, they grinned.

"We are counting on you, Tezuka!"

"Do your best."

"Wipe the court with him, Tezuka!"

"Our pride is in your hands!"

Tezuka simple nodded and went back to start the next set.

"As usual, Tezuka is as impassive as a stone wall. I wonder if he even feels anything when he plays that Yucky monster ..."

Despite his unchanging expression, Tezuka definitely felt it, Yukimura's tennis. What most people did not know was that Tezuka had an intuitive connection to tennis. He felt every single ball that he had ever played with an opponent acutely. Some, like Edvard's and Kikumaru's returns were playful and exuberant. Some were cautious, some angry, some fearful, or anxious, some joking, some roar, while others whisper.

Yukimura's tennis was excruciatingly painful. The serves were sharp, biting, and cold. The returns stung with anger and bitterness. The game-play was flooded with anguish and loneliness. It was so overpowering and suffocating. Every ball he received screams with great conflict and suffering. Every breath he heard was harsh and unforgiving. Every movement he saw demanded impossible perfection.

While most people was not as highly perceptive as Tezuka to everything that happened on a tennis court, they can feel some of it instinctively. And when they played someone like Yukimura, whose tennis was a constant onslaught of torment, they could not help but be affected by it.

When a normal person feels such distress, one's natural instinct was to avoid it. Closing ones' eyes to painfully bright light; pulling back before the flame burns a finger. It was a natural reflex to protect oneself from harm. Tennis players rely most heavily on their sight. And sight is what they lost first when they succumbed to Yukimura's tennis.

But Tezuka had a distinct advantage against Yukimura's brand of tennis. Sanada had once accused him of being able to detached too easily. Not just detached from his own feelings, but from other people's feelings as well. This was why Yukimura's tennis had not affected him.

It was not because Tezuka was so numb he could not feel anything. It was because Tezuka was so sensitive, he could not help but feel everything. And because of this sensitivity, he taught himself to detach; to separate his own emotions from another person's; to separate himself from his own emotions; to step outside himself. In that state, he was in the eye of the storm, the zone of calm tranquillity. While being completely aware and surrounded by chaos around him, he remained unaffected.

He is himself and he plays his own tennis. He neither reflects nor responds. He simply accepts and lets go.

"Game and set, Tezuka, seven games to five! With one-set all, we will begin Set Three."

At the commencement of the final set, the game started to speed up and intensify. Both of them no longer holding back, nor giving an inch. There was no room for mistakes. Every action and reaction had to be exactly right.

The ball flew between both players so fast, it was barely visible to the spectators. Yukimura was playing his best, seemingly to fly from one position to another. Every movement so elegant and effortless, it was like a dance of angels. Finally, he met someone who could meet his impossible standards.

Tezuka played in kind, like the true all court player that he was. He floated from net to mid-court to baseline in defence. Every swing an attack, regardless of where he happened to be. Lobs, smashes, volleys, slices, drop shots, straights, and cross courts; he executed them with exacting perfection, each aimed at the most difficult spot.

It had been too long since he had an opponent who could meet him on equal footing. He could play his best, without holding back. They both did. It had been five years since Tezuka and Yukimura played against each other. The long awaited match had finally arrived.

"Look! Is Tezuka glowing?"

"I've never seen him so sparkly!"

"A... A …. Tezuka is smiling!"

"I think hell just froze over ..."

Indeed, Tezuka was smiling halfway through the third set.

Two games later, Yukimura smiled back for real. Not bitter, not cynical, nor mocking. Just pure joyful smile. He felt it too.

Tezuka's tennis.

Tezuka's tennis that told him he was heard, and his tormented heart was accepted without judgement. Tezuka's tennis that soothed, and understood, and neither condemned nor forgave him.

Tezuka's tennis that did not shy away, but shouted with equal ambition, burning passion and fierce pride.

Tezuka's tennis that sang jubilantly and freely; because Yukimura has allowed him to be free. Because Yukimura had heard him and answered him in kind.

In the last game, Yukimura's tennis spoke with new voice. Yukimura's tennis was full of happiness, acceptance, and gratitude. He was alive and he was where he should be.

"Game, set and match!"

Tezuka and Yukimura shook hands on the court, separated by a net, but bridged by their shared experience.

One soul to another.

Notes:

French words:

Non - no

Oh, mon Dieu - Oh, my God

Oh la vache - holy cow

Comment allez-vous? - How do you do?

Merci - Thank you

German words:

das Monster - the Monster

Danke - Thank you

Tezuka's 'detachment' and 'state of mind' is based on Daoist/Buddhist concept. To be in the state of meditation is not about not thinking or feeling, but to be in a state of consciousness, where one is hyper-aware or mindful, yet does not allow the sensation or thought or feeling to affect oneself. This 'muga, mushin' concept is sometimes expressed as "simply acknowledging its content without becoming identified with that content or judging it." Buddhism stresses on self-regulation and mindfulness, hence meditation is a training technique used by monks to achieve these virtues.

Author's note:

Wow! This story had not been updated since March 2012. Finally, I have broken through years of writer's block and real-life-related business of living and disappointments and changes that interferes with my flow. This chapter was started in 2014 … to be completed in 2016.

Again, it turned out to be another character analysis piece. I hope it gives a nice closure to this arc. I find it not as witty or humorous as the previous chapters – sorry – and is somewhat more serious for this universe. Anyway, I hope this chapter ties back to the previous chapters and gives some sort of direction and plot to this collection of random stories. It was never conceived as proper single story with plots and objectives originally.

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy it.