route_1065 | Now I face out, I hold out--

Entry tags:

rise kujikawa | persona 4

Now I face out, I hold out--

Who:

usedlaserbeam
Where: A tennis court in Goldenrod City
When: Monday, July 25
Summary: Because practice matches are a good time for psychoanalyzing. HOORAY BONDING.
Rating: PG...?
Log:

[ it's never failed; every time she steps onto a court, there's both a surge of nervousness and a tiny thrill that overtakes her... almost like that strong tidal wave of anticipation that happens before she whirls onstage. Practice match, rehearsal, it's as good as the real thing to her. Especially when it's her first time practicing with this particular teammate of Yukimura's-- the one she really doesn't know. But there's something familiar about going into the unknown, too. Familiar and uncertain.

Not that Rise looks nervous, stretching on her side of the court and smiling over at Yagyuu. If nothing else, she'll get better from this. ]

This feels kinda official, somehow.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Does it?

[Yagyuu glances over from his own side of the court, his eyebrows slightly raised in response to the comment. And it is a little odd, really, because he would never call something like this official--two players alone on the court, no referee, no line judge, no stands crowded with bodies...and perhaps most importantly, no record riding on the outcome. There may be no distinction under the law of Rikkai (and he'll win today, since he has no intention of defying that law even now), but to say something like this feels official...

It's interesting, and he hides it behind a friendly smile and nod. It isn't difficult to tell she's nervous--all things considered, this may be one of the first (if not the first) matches she's ever played entirely on her own. And Yagyuu can remember that feeling, that twisting thrill of first stepping out on the court without a record of victories behind him. Is that what she's feeling, too?

Well. That's what he's here to find out.]

You'll do fine, Kujikawa-san. And please remember not to go easy on me.

Were you worried about that? [ her smile brightens - not because this is reassuring, but because that reeks of humoring her - and she settles into a more comfortable position. He's a Rikkai regular, he's most likely got years of experience under his belt, and she's...

... Rise.

And that's enough to have her lips quirk in something that isn't quite the default chipper grin, but not a smirk either. There's a subtle undertone of determination there. He's asked for her best, after all, and it's with that thought in mind that she holds up two fingers in a short salute. ]

No holding back on both our ends, and it's a deal!

You did say you intended to give me a workout.

[He checks his pocket, ensuring that a few spare balls are secured there for once the game begins, then methodically inspects his grip tape and racket strings with an almost absent air. It's old, familiar habit, almost to the point of ritual, and yet on another level it's new and thrilling to hold the racket he's chosen as his own, to put it to the test like this.

Ah, but first--

Motioning Rise to the net, he places the top of his racket frame against the ground, holding the end of the handle in preparation for a spin.]

Smooth or rough, Kujikawa-san?

Rough. [ ... she says almost immediately, and maybe she's attached some sort of sentimentality to either or both of the options - which wouldn't be out of the question - but it's just as easy to say that she's randomly choosing. ]

[And he gives it a spin, watching the racket turn as the black and yellow blurs together, watching Rise out of the corner of his eye because none of this is really about the tennis.

The racket slows and wobbles, and eventually lands smooth. He picks it up and shows it to her, offering her a shrug. Another time, perhaps, with another goal in mind, he might've foregone this part entirely and offered her the serve from the start. But if they're to be making this official, then they might as well let that extend to all of it.]

Smooth. In that case, take whatever time you need, and I'll serve when you're ready.

[ she's not offering up much to make a decent observation about, but that's one trait of having acted and followed expectations and instructions for the majority of her life. Until this starts, she won't reveal a thing, and only monitors the spinning of the racket with a slightly curious expression.

So she nods at him and trots back to her original position, knees bent and properly braced, racket held securely and gaze resting steadily on this new challenge. And maybe now there's a hint of change, because she's settling into Support Mode, and her voice carries with it a current of seriousness. ]

I'm ready.

[Nodding again, he steps toward the baseline and draws one of the balls out of his pocket as he does so, idly curling the fingers of his left hand into the familiar green fuzz in anticipation. If he were here to be patronizing, he'd call something across the court to her in these last moments, some motivational tip beginners repeated to themselves like a mantra before the beginning of a match. Keep your eye on the ball, perhaps; as though following a ball with one's eyes was enough to return it.

That thought brings an oddly satisfied smile to his face as he reminisces. The Kikumaru-Oishi pair had thought the same thing (celebrated it, even) in the moments before the Switch was revealed. And how exquisite it had been, rushing the net, pressuring Kikumaru, riding the thrill of knowing that Niou (Yagyuu) was at his back, supporting him, letting him cut loose--

He breathes, and something in his stance shifts, so slight it'd be entirely possible to miss. But this is tennis, and this time it's singles, and that means it's all Yagyuu being drawn out onto the court, the competitive edge and cool analysis that so usually remain concealed behind his congenial exterior.]

Let's have a good match.

[He barely thinks as he bends, releases, arcs his racket around, connects--and smashes a deep serve toward the back corner of her court.]

[ for one entirely brief, almost giddy moment - nerves, she thinks, even as they sharpen - Rise feels the inexplicable urge to laugh. She's been watching him closely until the serve-- not the ball, him, because the ball certainly won't be the controlling one here, and she's been reading people for years, it's habit by now.

And it's with a sense of wonder that she sees that little alteration, the way the gentlemanly aura of his slowly concedes to something else, welcoming it forward, similar to the way the cool and refined Yukiko suddenly becomes the fiercest fan-flinging and flame-wielding fighter. But this is even more subtle, and she would laugh, because he's suggesting they have a good match while she's thinking that this is someone who most certainly isn't going to hold back, and 'good' in her case is lasting. Enduring.

Adapting, and there's that collision of nerves and excitement again, but now there's relief - 'he's not asking for anything but my all' - and this time Rise moves the instant her eyes flick to the ball, the instant it's tossed up. Read and respond, after all. She's faster than she was when Yukimura first taught her to grip a racket, but there's still hardly time to admire that kind of power besides a brief acknowledgment and that's really only when she reaches the ball and connects with a backhand. The returning shot won't be anywhere near as deep, but she can't help that. ]

[If the point of the match were merely to win--which he intends to, but Yagyuu certainly doesn't need to go around picking battles with beginners to achieve that, and it'd be an insult to both of them if he were--then he would've made certain that first serve set the tone for the rest of the match: a service ace, a shot he knew she couldn't hit, an opening move that firmly set down the different levels of skill at which they're currently standing. But that wouldn't be a game so much as it would be a statement, and this is an instance where he's much more inclined to subtler methods.

The truth is, he'd only half expected she'd be able to return his serve anyway, and the fact that she does at all makes an impression. It's not hard to see Yukimura's hand in this, not when Yagyuu himself has been the recipient of that same careful refining on quite a few occasions. But there's something of Rise in it, too, something that almost surprises him--the tenacity to chase for the very first ball, even knowing nothing about her opponent and how he might strike back. The first point doesn't mean much in any arena but the psychological one, and yet she goes after it, as though the rest of the game will depend on whether or not she can reach this one now.

Well. Perhaps it does.

Her return is an easy ball in comparison to Yagyuu's level, and he barely has to think as he reaches for it, sending it back with the full intent of drawing her into a rally.

Show me, Kujikawa-san, he thinks. Now, here, show me what you've got.]

[ and she does.

Intentionally? Perhaps. Rise knows when she's being observed, because she's never truly out from under the spotlight, but there are usually expectations. Demands. Don't go out to eat, come straight home. Pose this way. Speak this line, with that little smile like you're thinking something mysterious. Keep smiling.

Souji had expected nothing but as much as he was willing to give his team, and that was the very best. Yukimura wasn't quite as subtle about it, but there had been something about him that had reminded Rise of her leader, and she'd respected him for that and his own credentials. He'd also asked - without really asking - for her best.

And now Yagyuu is doing the same. She owes him nothing, and could very well try a different tactic here, but they both know this isn't a match for the sake of just playing tennis. This is nothing like rallying on a rooftop with Fuji, least of all because she doesn't know Yagyuu, hasn't had a chance to witness him like this (in his natural element, her mind quips), and tennis with Fuji had never been akin to throwing herself into her first battle, armed with no experience whatsoever, just the instinct that there was something she needed to do, and the time to do it was now, exhaustion and inexperience be damned.

She lets him lead, curious and watchful, and he seems to have uncovered a strength. Choreography and the stamina needed to dance and sing simultaneously, to take each packed schedule at a run, the stuff she's been steadily working on, it's paying off with every twist and pivot and darting movement. All the while, she's watching, using every last ounce of perceptive ability to guess where the ball's headed next and doing everything in her power to hit it back.

Her initial thought was right, though. Yagyuu's interesting. Not as Niou's partner, not as a Rikkai regular, but as the person rallying with her right now. He's giving her the chance to see this side of him, and that's an opportunity she appreciates. ]

[So he's not the only one watching, is he?

In a way, he knows it's only to be expected from this girl, the one who went out of her way to ask him to keep tabs on Fuji (and called him Syuusuke) for her, the one he watched his partner watching like a hawk all those afternoons spent in the cosplay cafe. Yukimura himself told him to watch her and see what he thought, and he's beginning to see why--because there's something to her, something that runs deeper than the girls he's known from home and school. She watches. She looks. And if the focus of her attentions isn't careful, she sees.

Of course he of all people would catch it. He's played that game for years.

Interesting. Then they're both here to see what the other person is made of, baring their souls (well, as much of their souls as they care to show--which, in Yagyuu's case, is a very different distinction than baring it entirely) to the rhythm of ball against court and strings. And already there are things he can see, hints that nag at him (that tenacity reminds him of someone, who is it?), recognitions that Yukimura was right to take her on, and she'll be a fine player someday if she stays with it. In Yagyuu's world, that's a measure of respect in itself.

After a given amount of time, he ends the rally and takes the first game with relative ease, more because he's ready to see her serve than anything else. The first move was his, and he made it; now it's his turn to wait and see what she sends toward him in exchange.]

[ it was a given he'd win, and Rise realizes it, but there's still a tiny flash of chagrin - a quick review of slip-ups, not that correcting them would have changed the outcome, considering who she's up against - before she backs up to prepare a serve. There's something odd about understanding more about someone via a sports activity, but it's not as though she's picked up things about the important ones in any ordinary fashion. Hearing the gossip in the town, watching subtle motions, and it's always that one moment of connecting (sometimes unwillingly) to someone's heart, feeling that surge of turmoil and conflict and repression. But it's true that you tend to reveal more and learn more during times when you don't have the luxury to hide.

Not everything, anyway, and she's certainly not revealing herself in that entirety-- but there's something that nudges her towards not being afraid to show this much. Because she can't be ashamed of it, and if he's willing to do this much to see who she really is, the least Rise can do is oblige. It's her own desire, too, reluctant as she is to truly execute it.

But there's no hesitation now, because Rise never hesitates when she's focused. Not when she performs, not when she supports, not now.

So she tosses the ball up with a bit of a spin, and the aim's precise when the racket connects and sends it hurtling towards the back corner. She doesn't have his power, but this isn't about who's the better player here.

... Because really, that's one fight she wouldn't ever win. She's seen enough of him, even might have known it from the time Niou had told her that his partner had arrived, and the more she watches him play, the more it's apparent why this one's on Rikkai. And it also drives the fact home that she's not here to impress him. She's here to introduce herself.

Somehow, she's gotten rather fond of this team. ]

[As serves go, hers isn't bad by any means, but Yagyuu is also a person long since grown accustomed to receiving serves from Jackal and Sanada, so perception remains relative and he easily darts to return it, his mind yet again preoccupied with other considerations. He hadn't missed that look of frustration that flickered across her face as he'd taken the first game--understandable from anyone with even the least bit of competitive spirit--but almost more interesting still is what he found he didn't see: anger, or insult, or vendetta.

It's hard to pinpoint precisely why he'd thought he might see it lurking there; perhaps it's a small measure of projection of his own feelings, and how even to this day he loathes the sting of defeat. Perhaps it's that she's so close to his team, somehow integrated herself into them, and he's looking for that feeling they all share--are you Rikkai? Rivalries are a natural part of the game, even among friends; why else would they push Akaya so hard, handing him defeat again and again, sending him against players that would push him to his limits? Motivation to become stronger. Devotion to the law of absolute victory. Do you have that, Kujikawa-san?

But if she does, he didn't see it. It's natural, it's to be expected--but it's a line drawn between them just the same. One more factor of consideration in whatever ties build between them.

His return, when it comes, is a setup: he begins to drop back toward the baseline almost from the moment he's hit it, watching the ball fly back over the net to within her reach. He could never be so blatant when playing his teammates; they'd see through it in an instant, know exactly what was coming, go out of their way to avoid it. Rise, on the other hand, is newer. Inexperienced. Oblivious.

And this can hardly be called an introduction when Yagyuu hasn't used "that" yet.]

[ there's nothing quite like the feeling of knowing something's amiss without being able to pinpoint it, without Kanzeon's presence as an additional layer sifting through information and presenting her with everything she needs, everything she's already noticed but couldn't fully calculate on her own, to guide her team through battles.

To put it quite simply, it's vexing. And it's even more of a frustration when she realizes that, at this moment, the way things stand, the only thing she can do is hit the ball right back to him. And maybe she's just being too concerned over what could be nothing but a change of location, but instinct says otherwise. But there's nothing else to rely on, and certainly no way to properly prepare, and the default reaction is to hide irritability and confusion and wariness smoothly underneath that veil of concentration.

Trepidation notwithstanding, it's a shot flying back at him. ]

[There's a faint smile on Yagyuu's face as she returns the ball, and it's hard to say if it's more because she couldn't do anything but play into his hands or out of anticipation of what he knows is coming next. His own racket, an opponent across the net, a perfect setup into his favorite move--and the only thing that could make it better, he thinks in a sudden moment of odd nostalgia, is if this were doubles and there were a partner waiting at the net who already knew what was coming, too, and was wearing an identical smile of anticipation because of it.

Leave it to Niou to worm his way into his thoughts, even now. But perhaps it's not so strange, Niou and tennis and the Laser all inextricably intertwined; that's just one more part of how things are, even if it's something Rise couldn't possibly see in this moment no matter how hard she looked.

His fingers curl around the handle of his racket, the grip tape sure and familiar, the stance so practiced it's reached the point of instinct--and at the perfect moment he steps, sweeps, and lets fly the Laser, arms coming up as he follows through and watches it hurtle and ricochet off her side of the court in that familiar, perfect way.

The adieu that slips from his lips in the first moment of aftermath, coincidentally, is purely from instinct, too.]

Wh--

[ the word doesn't exactly emerge fully formed, so much as it's gasped out, because she both saw it and didn't, she'd seen the stance, but there had been no time to wonder about it before the ball was slamming straight past her. Beyond saving. She's quick to whip her head around to stare, first at the ball, then back at Yagyuu, because she's honestly not sure what she's feeling in those first few seconds other than shock.

How had he done that? And with that kind of decisive move, had he already decided it was time to end this? If there was more of that in stock, she--

... and Rise's surprised to discover that her fingers are trembling, pads pressing into the grip tape. Is she scared? There doesn't look like there's a way to return something that fast, that frighteningly precise, but she's not certain if she could chalk this up to fear. To some degree, she has to admire him for that kind of control and accuracy and power.

No, it isn't fear. You don't face yourself, you don't navigate through the twisted maze of people's hearts, you don't get through losing everything, only to be afraid of a tennis move.

But then... is she angry? It's a stupid thing to be angry about, a lot of people would say, but she knows she played into that set-up beautifully, and he set that up beautifully, and just remembering being manipulated before has her eyes blazing. It's the feeling, not really the person (and she remembers that moment, the exact moment, that one mocking smile and taunting words), and she's certainly not pleased how that happened, but it's also something important to take note of.

She'd told him not to hold back, either. She can accept that much, but against the rising concern that this may end up hopeless for the rest of the match, the anger's prompting an unexpected urge to see that move again. To see it, and learn it, and throw herself at it for as long as it takes to counter it.

So Rise inhales, breathes out just as quietly, but the determination she's been wearing has only taken on a degree of fire. And still, she smiles after a moment. So someone as formal and polite as him... had something like this up his sleeve? The girl who found weak spots had detected nothing, and maybe she'd suspected he'd had something like that prepared, but definitely not that. ]

You're a pretty scary guy, Yagyuu-kun.

[It was wonderful to see your Laser again, Yagyuu.

The truth is, it's really almost odd to see an opponent looking quite so bewildered at the sight of his Laser; with so many data players and information gatherers in the circuit back home, it's difficult to keep anything under wraps for long--and Rikkai's regulars are well-known enough that his favorite move, his Laser, is practically a calling card. Oh, it stuns his opponents, there's no doubt of that, but it's never the sort of surprise that Rise is displaying, the outright shock and awe of someone who quite literally never saw it coming. It's a rare experience, and it's one that Yagyuu discovers he almost enjoys, the innumerable questions clearly racing through her mind as she tries to process what just happened and what in the world she'd just seen.

He took the point, but it's still her serve, and so he's left to wait, holding his racket easily at his waist as he watches her stew. And she is stewing, and he's willing to bet she's replaying that moment again and again, going over every last detail and trying to make sense of it--there, at last, a level of obsession with the game that Yagyuu can identify with.

At last, he's made her mad. Good, so much the better; the rest of this match should prove all the more interesting for it.]

It'd hardly be a match if I didn't use my Laser, Kujikawa-san.

[ luckily for Rise, he hasn't voiced that wager, because he would have won. She might have denied it, out of pride-- and while she certainly isn't afraid to try things out that others might find ridiculous or weird or childish or embarrassing, she does have a marked degree of pride in who she is and what she does. Maybe because of just how hard she had to work to reach that point where she could be proud of it. But the simple fact remains that Rise's still poring over that split second, turning the memory over and over again with the kind of intense focus Naoto would have recommended she apply to her schoolwork.

It's not so much that he won the point. It's how he won the point and, as irrational as the thought is, it's the feeling that she wants to beat him-- at the very least, show him that she'd rather not be underestimated, though she doubts that's why he used the... Laser. He could have wanted something from her, something she's not sure she gave him. He can also probably make an educated guess that she wasn't too pleased to be led into a trap like that-- but then again, who would be?

She trots over to retrieve the ball, pensive until she returns to her spot. Then, with a tiny quirk of something not quite a smile, but is perhaps surprisingly sincere-- ]

I guess I'm honored, then.

[ He's given her something else to try to understand, and oddly enough, she's grateful for that. Anger notwithstanding - and that's almost foreign to her, feeling this kind of fierce competitiveness when it's not towards another idol, or someone badmouthing her - she's focused again. If it's not a match without his Laser, it's not a match on her end if she doesn't throw herself into it. Being mad may lend her an extra oomph when she sends her next serve his way, but work ethic and experience means not losing the ability to keep yourself centered in what you're doing.

And if the serve's a little faster, a little harder, she'll chalk that up to adapting. ]

[And if Rise is watching closely, she might manage to catch Yagyuu's mask slipping back down a little farther at that comment. More and more, this match is feeling like a pendulum, swinging back and forth between realizations and recognitions, and this time it's swung back to the beginning, back to the reminder that no, this opponent isn't like the others, she doesn't understand like his teammates and cohorts would.

Honored? She's honored? Sarcasm might've been one thing, but to say that with sincerity...

It's only a small measure of standing she's lost in his opinion, but his eyes are colder now, his expression more guarded, his smile more polite. The messages are conflicting and as yet, he hasn't had time to sort them out, so he's forced to take them as they come and catalogue them later--does she have that spirit or doesn't she? Can she possibly understand what it means, belonging to a team like theirs? Does she think it was a gift, a favor, that he ensnared her into letting him hit his Laser?

He showed it for a reason, but not as a gift. And if she can't make sense of what that reason is, then perhaps that will be the end, the door of opportunity irrevocably closed.]

I'm looking forward to your answer.

[And he returns to the back of his court, waiting for her serve, and it comes better than before--harder, faster, now possessed with more of a message--and the pendulum begins to swing back again. Is she or isn't she? Do you have it in you to understand, Kujikawa-san?

He returns the serve with force equal to her own, adding a new measure of pressure to the gameplay.

Show me. Show me. Show me.]

[ answer... answer? Of course she's watching him, so she can mark the precise moment when his expression alters - or reverts to the way it was before, as though she's failed in something - and maybe what she said was the wrong thing, but... again, it's a question ringing in her mind as the ball flies his way. Answer... wrong...?

This is a match for her to try and understand him, on her end, but it also feels as though he's judging her. It's a sure sign she's slipped up somewhere - honored that he'd verified that this was a match, should she have said? - and before the indecision and uncertainty swamps her, a memory sparks to life.

And she remembers the agency, a bored voice telling her exactly how to act, asking her questions but truly dismissive of her answers and instructing her instead to give the ones they provided her. She remembers fighting down dismay and anger, because she'd been shy, willing to change, and she'd needed to go along with it.

She remembers the one they'd faced, the comment he'd made about talent, that stupid teacher, her-- the way they'd made her feel, even temporarily, as though she was meant to be overlooked. And her audience...

What had Fuji said about underestimating...? And what did Yagyuu want from her? How did he want her to act, to look, to dance--

His comment's still ringing in her ears, her eyes darkening, but she takes a single second to look at him, just in time to see him hit her serve. And maybe she doesn't have her Persona to read the exact message and relay it, nor the time to commit to fully understanding it, but in that second, in a single breath, there's a flash of awareness. An oh.

He'd done that to draw out her anger-- to see how she'd respond to a ball she couldn't hit, to purposely make her feel helpless? And she'd hidden that anger, too accustomed to doing so behind a smile.

Well, fine. He could be disappointed. He could be wanting her to act a certain way (she doubts that, he doesn't know her well enough to predict how she'd act), or to simply see if she held the answer he wanted (so you're ducking back behind that smile if I don't fight back?) and how she's thinking through this in the span of a few seconds is crazy, but she moves automatically.

And hits harder.

It's almost a relief. To just let it out, to not curb it for the sake of anyone and everyone, and if he's going to judge her, then she's past the point of worrying about what the hell he thinks, if she's messed up, because it's relieving and terrifying and part of her wants to suppress it again, while the rest of her is clamoring to retaliate. She's done caring about being sore the next day if she hits too hard, she's done being manipulated (but she still is, she feels, and that only makes her all the more determined to break free of it), and all she really wants to do is wipe that smile off his face. And the only way she can do that isn't with dancing or singing or punching or yelling-- it's using this racket, hitting the ball back at him, pouring her anger into it and guiding it with almost instinctive observation, dashing and spinning to get everything he sends at her as her heart pounds louder and louder in her ears.

You want to see this side of me? You want to see the side no one else does?

What could you possibly know about me? She'd said that to Naoto, vehemently, and she thinks it now, except now she is showing what she's so used to squashing down, and she's pushing back against that pressure. Her eyes are glittering, her breaths come sharply, and she's fighting.

She wants to beat him, and it'll hurt that much more when she doesn't, but right now, she's not even thinking about that. ]

[There. There it is. And it's almost enough to bring a smile to Yagyuu's face, except that he never smiles when he's in the midst of an intense rally, not unless he's holding full control in his hand and about to end it in his favor. She's faster now, hitting harder, and while it's true her form is suffering because of it (it's simply a lack of practice, that her technique is still unrefined enough that she has to think about it, it isn't a part of her), it's also true that Yagyuu would rather have a match like this than one filled with neat returns and careful strategies, more a "the fundamentals of tennis" demonstration than a game. It's not technique he wants; he already knows that isn't there. What he wants is what is there, what she's been hiding, what a few well-placed words miraculously seem to have drawn out.

And for a minute or two, as he smashes returns back at her and forgoes his own strategies and ploys in favor of a direct confrontation, he finds his thoughts drifting to their second-year (funny, her hair looks nothing like seaweed) and the show he never failed to put on when his right buttons were pressed. They all saw it in Akaya, that sheer drive and potential, but there was never any doubt that their ace understood what it truly meant to be a part of this team. He'd known it from the first day he'd arrived, when he'd made a scene leaping atop the school gate and carrying on about his destiny to be number one; he'd striven to prove it in the way he'd challenged the senpais and crushed them all, one by one. And he'd learned the hard way why their team was the best in the nation, and suffered the public humiliation of having his ambition thwarted in one fell, effortless swoop.

But he'd gotten stronger. He'd come back for more. And when Niou brought him word one afternoon that the kid had challenged the Big Three to a rematch, he hadn't hesitated a second to let everything else go by the wayside to see it.

And when he'd been pushed to the brink in the National semifinals, and they had literally staked everything on his ability to go on and rise above his limits once again, it had fallen to Yagyuu to deliver the blow that sent him over the edge.

The satisfaction was so great, it almost managed to sweeten the bitter taste of an orchestrated loss into something bearable.

And do you have it, too? he wonders, rushing the net to return another ball, ducking back in preparation for her next return. Can she understand that need for victory, that drive to maintain their role as kings, that willingness to put everything on the line to achieve it? It's not about the moves, the angles, the trajectories; it's the spirit, the urge to fight, the need to overcome and take that victory with their own hands. It's the passion, the anger, the bitter taste of defeat and the furious vow that it will never happen again, not so long as they can fight, not so long as they draw breath, not so long as they still have hearts and souls to pour out onto the court.

She saw his Laser because this is tennis, and it's part of who he is and this is who he is, here and now, chasing the ball with sweat beading on his forehead and that beautiful, familiar ache of exertion pumping in his muscles. And in exchange, he wants the same from her--the passion, the anger, and yes, that bitter scowl when he hands defeat to her.

The second time he hits the Laser, it's completely out of instinct; there's no ploy, no plot, just an exhilarating rally drawn on too long that intuition urges him to finish.]

[ her muscles are already protesting as the rally keeps on, and maybe it's reckless to pour this much into a tennis match, but it's in her nature to push herself when necessary. And having Souji as a leader had taught her, over the span of that memorable year, that it didn't matter what you did, what was at stake, you didn't half-ass it. Even races at school festivals. He had pushed himself then, and Rise had understood.

She'd fought, maybe not in sports, not before Yukimura had started teaching her, but she'd stood there, vision blurred, breathing harshly, unable to straighten, and the first thing she'd felt when Chie had delivered a well-meaning "But you can't handle it!" hadn't been fear or exhaustion or trepidation.

It had been anger. Yes, she damn well could, and she was going to, and she had. She was going to fight. She was going to push herself to the point of collapse, she was going to fight her way back to her fans, agency opinions be damned, she was going to make sure her team ended this, and they'd all fought like hell to ensure that.

Rise knows subtlety, and she knows how to humor and when to be tactful, but she also knows how to fight, after everything. And Yagyuu now isn't coaxing her to fight, he's demanding it from her. It's manipulation, she knows this, and she knows that he could end this at any time, but he's not, and as long as he keeps slamming the ball back at her, she's going to keep meeting it. She's not above seizing risks.

And he's been hiding quite a bit, too, so that she'd been initially surprised when she'd first met him. Niou's partner hadn't quite matched up with pristine and put-together gentleman, but she takes in the sight of him now, racing to keep her on her toes, less pristine, more powerful, and she thinks that she prefers him this way. She doesn't feel like she's possibly treading on his toes, she doesn't feel obligated, it's just the desire to win against someone who's gone and pushed her this much-- and that's new to her in this match, because she's used to feeling competitive in the idol industry, she's used to the battles, zeroing in on weak spots and almost ruthlessly exploiting them, because that had been for the team, for whoever they were trying to save. They'd needed to win. They'd only grown fiercer after Nanako had been taken to the hospital.

But here? Playing tennis?

She's never played this hard before, unsmiling, perspiration drenching her bangs, eyes alight with some kind of fierce tenacity, and adapting, always adapting, because adapting means survival and victory, and that part of her had never changed. Of course, she still has to think on her movements, correcting them when she has the chance to, making the pivots sharper, the impact better; she still needs work.

But this time when the Laser flies her way, she's already turned in that direction, racket moving towards it.

... And she still misses by a long shot, which doesn't come as a surprise, but it's an additional sting that has her eyebrows furrowing and her grip on the handle turning white-knuckled as she staggers to a halt.

Dammit! ]

[Since the day he first spoke to Kujikawa Rise, when he heard her name from a handful of his teammates and discovered that somehow a girl who was only a novice at tennis had worked her way into their attentions, Yagyuu has silently wondered what it was his team could've possibly seen in her. She'd carried herself pleasantly enough, made conversation, acted friendly and supportive--all things considered, not the sort of girl he would personally put much stock in. But it was Niou's word and Yukimura's tacit approval, and that meant there had to be something more to her, something worth the investment of time it would take to pursue it and draw it out.

And is this it, he wonders? Niou, who can read people so thoroughly he can outright become them; Yukimura, whose sheer force of skill and personality never seems to fail at drawing out the best in people. Is this what they saw, and implicitly challenged him to find for himself?

There's no doubting she's much more interesting this way, stripped of the smiles and cheers and encouraging words. Here, there's something more--ambition, determination, frustration. Perhaps better than anyone, Yagyuu knows how it feels when that tension begins to rise, when the mask clamps down to hide the clenched fingers and gritted teeth, when circumstances push so hard that you just want to scream and you don't because someone might be watching, and that's not a luxury you can afford.

She's like him. For a fleeting, arrogant moment, he wonders if perhaps that's why they took so well to her in his absence.

He doesn't call out to her as he walks toward the net, slightly out of breath from the length of the rally, but still in far better condition than she is at the moment. He's trained to play like this, his stamina is better; idly, he reminds himself not to draw this out too long, or he'll run her into the ground and have a whole set of slightly awkward explanations to make to his team because of it. But there's no mistaking her stance, her expression, the fury now brewing beneath her pretty surface.

It's strange. Kikumaru Eiji once managed to return it, even if the shot never made it over the net. Does this girl, this deceptively fiery opponent of his, think she has what it takes to do the same?

He could tell her he doesn't think so, because the truth is he doesn't. But on the other hand, he doubts one more dismissal is really necessary.

So instead, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves one of the spare balls he'd put there earlier, tossing it gently in her direction to save her the trouble of running after the one he just hit--which is now somewhere near the fence, a whole court away.]

[ Rise regards him for a few seconds, taking the opportunity to catch her breath as she also catches the ball. There's nothing searching in her expression, nothing expectant, just a quiet, stubborn acknowledgment: This is my answer.

In terms of tennis, he's got the upper hand. He's taller, faster, more experienced, stronger, more skilled-- she doesn't need her ability to read the unvoiced things to know that much. Next to Yagyuu - next to any of them - she's tiny, delicate, fragile, inexperienced, weaker.

Physically. She has no doubt that Rikkai's strong, and she respects them, knows they've carried the weight of countless victories on their shoulders, how hard they fought to win this time. And Yagyuu, she suspects, carries the additional burden of that mask for whatever reason, keeping things repressed until provided the proper catalyst. What she's seen of him today was both unexpected and unsurprising, because she's seen the sort of things people hide, she's hidden them herself.

And eight of them had hidden them until their Shadows said otherwise, and eight of them had faced formidable obstacles to save the entire world.

She might not have their stamina, but she can last longer than most girls her age, more than most idols. Something like this certainly won't keep her down (you don't know true exhaustion or pain until you've faced everything ripped from inside of you, welcomed it back, changed it into your own power, and even then, she'd stood back up and told the others to get ready), and since Yagyuu had so kindly extracted the part of her that she rarely showed to many people...

She's not releasing the tension now. It's like the burst of adrenaline that the stage gives her, the music blending with her movements, except now her only beat is the thundering one in her chest, the one she can hear, and Rise exhales softly, backs up, and serves.

From this point on, she won't stop moving; slowing down, stopping, not giving it her all, it means she's given up, and she won't. Not until he ends it. ]

[There, at last, this is the game he'd wanted when he'd first approached the topic of a match. She wanted to probe his defenses and he wanted to test her mettle, and the only reasonable way to accomplish both was like this, through tennis, because this time Yagyuu is in control and these are his boundaries, his standards, his rules. Someday, he knows, he may find their positions flipped--set off-guard in some endeavor or another where it's Rise's place to shine and his charge to do everything he can just to keep up--but this isn't a conversation they could've had in words, and that in itself was something he could only express through the game they're playing now.

This is who he is, how he plays, why he strives, how he wins. And she's shown him, too, that there's more to her than she lets on, that there's something worth seeking beneath the facade he'd otherwise deflect out of sheer habit. And someday, if she truly wants to see perfection on the court, she'll watch him at doubles with his partner by his side, when everything makes sense no matter whose face he's wearing, and he finds himself feeling truly invincible in those perfect moments of serve and return and attack.

But this isn't doubles, and she isn't at his level, and no matter how good of an impression she's doing of Kaidou Kaoru (that's who it was, that tenacity, that perseverance), the physical reality is that she's not going to be able to keep up if he drags this match out beyond the limits of her stamina. Calling the game in the middle would only humiliate her, burning the bridges he's already gone to such careful lengths to forge. So he'll have to beat her (not that he ever planned to do anything different), soon but not fast, taking the points at exactly the right moments so her endurance and pride will both hold out until the end.

It's a daunting task, but Yagyuu once accepted the challenge of making a gifted defeat look like a crushing one, and the precision necessary for this one is nothing compared to the careful calculation it took to convince Akaya that his senpai had actually been up against a foe he couldn't handle.

And so he begins taking games, carefully and methodically, hiding his aims behind seemingly intense rallies (that are gradually growing shorter and shorter before he "manages" to score--ah, but that could simply be your endurance wearing out, couldn't it, Kujikawa-san?) and finishing shots to the back corners. Better to take points off shots that were just a little too fast or too far for her to reach, rather than using the Laser. His fingers itch to grip the racket, his arms ache to let it fly, but that, too, is part of the greater psychological game, and he'll use it when he needs to--sparingly, when the setup isn't just perfect but a perfect she's seen before, and it's easier to conceal just how many times he could've unleashed it before now.]

[ she's seen it twice-- enough to go on, to commit to memory, and to know that, for all intents and purposes, she's forced to dance to whatever bizarre and intricately coordinated tune he's fashioning. He could use that Laser of his at any time, and she's constantly aware of his movements, braced for a failed attempt to counter when he retreated to the baseline.

But Yagyuu is finding other ways to chip away at her, things she could have worked on, balls she could have hit if she'd been a little faster, a little more poised to react, instead of falling victim to a rallying pattern. Each missed ball is added to a growing list of things she'll have to practice later-- it's no different from making a mistake during rehearsal or a shoot, making note of it and striving to correct it so it didn't happen again. Not that it makes her any less frustrated, but she doggedly continues, hitting back any balls she can reach, and maybe she's beginning to feel like she's running an uphill marathon, and maybe she's wondering how long they've been at this, and maybe she realizes what he's doing, some part of her, that the differences mean he's gracefully drawing it to a close, and maybe she looks a little pained - no, not good enough, it's embarrassing to miss these, and trying just isn't good enough against someone of his caliber - but Rise plays on. Sometimes suspicious, sometimes second-guessing herself, always stubborn.

And when it does end, she won't allow for collapse. ]

[And though she may not realize it through her frustration, there's something in her continued tenacity that stands out (not quite impresses him, but certainly forces him to make note of it) in the last minutes and points of the match; losing may be unforgivable according to their team's code, and Yagyuu in particular has very little tolerance for those who inevitably are forced to concede defeat, but to see this girl hold out to the very last, refusing to surrender when this has been a lost battle since before she ever set foot on the court--yes, there's something admirable in that, and it's an option that many might not have taken.

But she loses, as expected, and his win is impeccable, as predicted. And he's tired, of course, but not even close to the way that she must be; his is that sort of delicious creeping exhaustion that comes from an excellent effort and an accomplishment to show for it, the warm fade of adrenaline into a comfortable, content relaxation.

(This is the part when he's supposed to retreat to the stands, wipe his face with a towel, climb the steps to his seat and bask in that familiar, fond afterglow of victory as his teammates take their turns at battle. Except this isn't an official match, and he still has things to take care of.)

Heading immediately for his backpack, he replaces his racket carefully inside it and produces two bottles of water, returning to hand one to Rise with a firmness that invites no protest. She's going to feel this match tomorrow, and quite possibly a few days after that--more than enough to raise questions from anyone that cares to pay attention--and there's no helping that. It's the least he can do, to see that the other concerns and considerations are attended to.]

Traditionally, we ought to have shaken hands immediately following the conclusion of the match, but I think this time it can stand to wait awhile, don't you?

[ it's over before she knows it, and she has to rely on automatic motions to tuck her racket under her arm, inspecting her palm with an almost detached glance. There's a faint line of ridges there, testament of just how hard she was gripping the handle, but she relaxes her fingers, just in time to be handed the bottle.

She's exhausted, and much like the way she'd known she was going to feel the very first practice session with Yukimura and running with ankle weights, Rise is already envisioning tomorrow and how much it'll hinder her usual pace. Especially since she'll still need to practice. She can't even relax in this tiredness, the way she would after a successful dungeon run or a victim saved. If anything, the feeling now reminds her of how helpless she'd felt, knees pressed to the ground and gasping for air in a fog-clouded world and straining to find what she knew was there-- ultimately, she'd been useless. The team had to withdraw, because their support couldn't decently guide them when the world itself was making her feel sick, obscuring her senses.

It's that same helplessness she feels now, without as much distress, but the frustration was still present. Not a point scored, and nothing to show for it but wobbly legs and shallow breathing and defeat.

No, she corrects herself, glancing up at Yagyuu, she'd gotten something from this. Motivation, for one. Experience. And a better look at Yagyuu Hiroshi.

It still hurts, though, and she can't lie to herself and say that it doesn't.

Rise takes a moment to settle, and once again, her eyes are dark with some unvoiced thought-- but then she lifts her head and her hand comes up with it, extending towards him once she's shifted the bottle to the same side as the racket. She may look like she's three seconds away from collapsing, but her knees don't buckle and she's still upright when she speaks. ]

Nah. It's a little late now, but I don't really feel like keeping you waiting, Yagyuu-kun. [ she'd done enough of that on the court until he'd drawn out what he wanted. ]

I appreciate it, Kujikawa-san. Having caused a fair amount of it myself.

[And it's surprisingly not tennis he's thinking of as he takes her hand and shakes it with the firmness and respect due any worthy opponent at the end of a match; no, she showed him precisely what he wanted to see, and so he'll permit this much of a concession in the aftermath. If she takes it to mean the match, then so be it--just one more subtle misdirection in play--but Yagyuu's mind is nowhere near this court or this girl or even this city. At the moment he's spinning back to a park bench in Cherrygrove, a chill evening breeze, a partner falling apart against his dampening shoulder.

I hope I didn't keep you waiting, Niou-kun...

Six months to the day. And Kujikawa Rise somehow, inexplicably, in the middle of it. He may not know what she did, the lengths to which the history and attachment run, but he arrived to find his partner covered in a spiderweb of cracks, one tap away from shattering--but intact. He'd had Yukimura, he'd had Akaya, he'd even (surprisingly) had Fuji Syuusuke. And somewhat perplexingly, he'd had Kujikawa Rise. And it had been enough to hold him until Yagyuu could finally catch up.

That alone was enough to draw Yagyuu's attention, but it wasn't enough to win his respect. Not until this match, when he'd been able to see her earn it for herself.

He knows she's looking for answers, whatever ones she can manage to draw out of him, and so he'll give her that one and let her ponder it. That much genuine honesty won't hurt at this point. And if anything, it'll be just enough of a gain to keep her looking for more. Normally he might not be nearly so generous with a tacit invitation to continue prodding at his masks, but at this point it's simple reinforcement. Show me who you are, and perhaps you'll see some of me.

(Assuming she's willing to work for it, of course.)]

You played well. It was a good match.

[ that's almost an odd thing to say, but if there's one thing Rise's learned, it's that this person doesn't typically make pointless remarks. And again, she's reminded of Naoto (except she knows all the ways to fluster her best friend), who never says anything that doesn't have some sort of meaning or purpose to it.

And maybe it's just that she's had plenty of experience with that sort of thing or that she's always remembered phrasing, word choices, the things that told her how to respond-- or maybe it's the knowledge that he didn't keep her waiting in this match at all. From the feel of it, he'd always been ready to react. But Rise can assume that he's talking about something else, and from the thoughtful way she releases his hand after a firm shake of her own, she's going to be thinking about it when she's taken care of everything else.

'Everything else' starting with making it back on weak legs, but she's already twisting the lid off her bottle. Regardless of his methods, she can't bring herself to regret this match. At last, she feels like she's starting to get it. At the very least, she's got a more solidified opinion on the mysterious gentleman now. ]

I've got a lot to work on, but you know... [ and she takes a deep, steadying breath. ] I'm gonna make sure I play even better next time. Thanks for the match, Yagyuu-kun.

[Another opponent, from a different team, might fill in the moment that followed those words with a laugh of encouragement, a lighthearted review of the match, friendly commentary on the things she'd done well and the places she still had yet to improve. And surely there are people in the world like that, but Yagyuu isn't one of them, and attempting to open that venue of discussion after the match they've just had only seems ignoble and discourteous.

Let that sort of instruction come from Yukimura, with his unfailing ability to draw out the best of a player and hone it into excellence. For now, Yagyuu's expertise is best put to use by being a rival--something to set her sights on, something to pursue. She's got a long way to go if she thinks she's going to be able to take him head-on when he's playing at his best, but he doesn't doubt now that she has it in her to try.

Yukimura once said that people become stronger in equal measure to the defeat they've endured. It's a Rikkai sentiment. And now he can believe she honestly understands that.

On the other hand, the match is over, and it's come time to sink carefully back into their respective roles--which means it's a gentleman's next duty to see the lady home, if only to make sure she doesn't collapse on the side of the road along the way.

...Whoops.]

I was pleased to oblige, and I'll certainly look forward to your next challenge. For now, though, let me walk you home.

[Funny how neither of those two remarks are questions.]

[ not even close to a question, is it? Rise would raise an eyebrow, if she hadn't been settling back into the more familiar part of herself - the one most people know the best, anyway - and so instead she merely smiles and peeks up at him through her lashes.

It's sad that she counts still standing as one of her great accomplishments of the day, but again, worth the opportunity. ]

Who could say no to that?

[ no, really. She doesn't think refusing is even an option. ]

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