Niou Masaharu liked seeing people disconcerted. The expression itself amused him, and the knowledge that he had been the one to put it on somebody’s face gave him a nice, warm glow of accomplishment. And, while he liked playing with people who appreciated his art and style, in order to get the full effect it was best to target the straightlaced and serious.

Thus, after spending a month or so observing his fellow first years it was as natural as sunrise that he should choose Yagyuu Hiroshi as his first major target.

Yagyuu was prim and proper, respectful and reserved. His appearance and his work were uniformly precise and neat. He spoke to everyone, from the teachers to his study partners to the girls who made eyes at him, in exactly the right fashion and degree for a good student with little interest in entanglements, either friendly or romantic.

He was ideal.

Masaharu had indulged in a little petty theft with every expectation of a handsome return on his effort. The contrast would be especially piquant, when that still face broke into an expression of shock, and possibly even turned red. It was a shame he couldn’t get rid of the glasses, in order to get the full effect of the eyes widening, but perfection was rare. Masaharu accepted this, while taking pleasure in coming as close as possible. This one should be fairly close, albeit on a small scale.

He was, therefore, very surprised when Yagyuu, upon discovering what had been substituted for one of his books, merely flipped through a few pages of extremely explicit erotic postcards before tucking them back into his bag without so much as a raised brow. Masaharu was still trying to assimilate this when Yagyuu paced over to his desk.

“Niou-kun, if it isn’t too much trouble, might I ask for the return of my dictionary?” Yagyuu asked, quite calmly.

When Masaharu actually processed the request, and the fact that Yagyuu seemed to have no intention of returning the postcards, he broke into a grin of utter delight. He produced the dictionary with a slight flourish.

“Why, of course, Yagyuu. You only had to ask.” How wonderful. He did love a good challenge.

Yagyuu’s resigned sigh as he accepted the book made Masaharu wonder for a second whether he had said that last out loud. But no. If Yagyuu had figured out who was responsible for the little trick so quickly, he likely knew just by Masaharu’s expression what he’d let himself in for.

Masaharu whistled through the halls for the rest of the day.

Yagyuu surprised him again by inviting Masaharu to play a set with him after the tennis club’s afternoon practice was done. He was not particularly surprised when Yagyuu won handily. Masaharu had already tagged Yagyuu as one of the strongest players in their year, short of The Miraculous Three. In another year, Yagyuu’s speed ball would probably be unbelievable.

So Masaharu wondered, as they packed up, what the point of this game had been. Did Yagyuu not have his measure already? Given his obviously sharp observational skills that seemed unlikely. On the other hand, Masaharu knew that plenty of people were taken in by his rough and casual attitude. But this one was obviously no stranger to deceptive fronts, himself, if the go-round with the pictures was any indication. It was a puzzle.

Masaharu liked puzzles, too.

As they started off their respective ways, Yagyuu looked at him, glasses flashing and concealing whatever expression might be behind them.

“It pays to attend to the important things, Niou-kun,” he said, in the tone of someone quoting an aphorism in Literature class. And then he was gone.

Masaharu’s eyes narrowed as he looked after his classmate. So. If he wasn’t mistaken, the point of the game had actually been to suggest that, not only was Yagyuu a better player, but that he was better because he did not indulge in unimportant things. Like, say, tricks and provocations.

Well then. Masaharu felt his lips curving in the smile that made even his friends nervous. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who liked a challenge?

Very brief experiment confirmed that Masaharu was unlikely to catch Yagyuu up on the tennis court. Not, at any rate, by conventional means. Yagyuu just had that extra edge of technique. So Masaharu settled down to observe and analyze, looking for other means. And if no one else knew what to make of the brilliant grins he occasionally couldn’t help bestowing on Yagyuu, that was fine with him. This one would last him for months, possibly even years.

That was the part that no one seemed to understand. Yes, Masaharu loved his tricks just for the waves they caused. But the deception or manipulation itself was only the tail end of the thing. The real heart of it was understanding; the trick was simply the proof that he had understood correctly. And, of course, stirring people up made for even more opportunities to observe and understand. It was Masaharu’s own awareness of how central understanding was that allowed him to turn it around—to conceal himself while indulging his taste for unsettling people. Most of the time it was lamentably easy.

Yagyuu Hiroshi was not easy to understand. Nor was he easy to unsettle.

Masaharu thought he just might be in love.

So, he checked off on his mental list, sex didn’t so much as make Yagyuu blush. Encouraging his admirers, which Masaharu spent a week doing to great effect, didn’t discommode him in the least. He was unfailingly polite to the most shrilly besotted girls. Masaharu added “inhuman patience” to his list of Yagyuu’s defenses.

After some consideration, and some more covert practice to pull it off, he played a set against Yagyuu while imitating his style and moves. That disturbed just about anyone, at least for a while. Yagyuu merely increased the power of his shots until his last speed ball blew the racquet out of Masaharu’s hands. Irritated, perhaps, but not disturbed. Oh well. The exercise wasn’t without a productive aspect; Yagyuu’s moves were a nice addition to Masaharu’s repertoire.

Indeed, he had occasion to use it within the week. Toshiyuki had it coming. Really, Masaharu considered it his duty to the club to keep that kind from getting too far above themselves. So, after spending the match hammering him with one drive after another, just as Toshiyuki was starting to get his stance right to return them, Masaharu gave him a curving slice instead. Wavering, attempting to shift his balance fast enough to return it, Toshiyuki stepped right on the stray ball Masaharu had spent half a game maneuvering him in front of.

Such a shame that the first years were so much laxer about collecting balls for each other than they were for the second and third years.

Toshiyuki went down hard and lay, wheezing. Masaharu sauntered to the net and propped himself on one of the posts.

“Are you all right?” he inquired, light and mocking.

Toshiyuki wheezed some more, and Masaharu watched with great satisfaction as he tottered over to the benches. Now, maybe, he’d shut up about what a great all around player he was going to be.

“Such an extreme measure was unnecessary, Niou-kun,” Yagyuu’s level voice said behind him. Masaharu tossed a look over his shoulder, and noted that Yagyuu’s mouth was actually a little tight. Interesting.

“I only do things like that to people who really annoy me,” he returned with a thin, lazy smile. Yagyuu’s brow arched.

“Really?” he asked, all polite skepticism.

“Some people annoy me just by breathing,” Masaharu admitted. He stretched, vastly pleased. Not only had the matter with Toshiyuki worked out precisely, but for some reason it had bothered Yagyuu.

Now, the question was, why?

Because Masaharu had used one of Yagyuu’s moves to do it? It seemed unlikely, since it hadn’t bothered Yagyuu when Masaharu had used them against him. But perhaps he didn’t want anyone thinking that he had actually shown that move to Masaharu, that he had participated in any way in a trick like this.

Perhaps because it was a teammate? But Yagyuu had watched him pull things just as vicious on classmates and never blinked. Masaharu spent a happy moment recalling the rather lurid love confession to the teacher that he had inserted into the English homework Hidenori was called upon to read aloud. It would never have worked if Hidenori had been good enough in English to actually think about the content of what he was reading, but knowing that he wasn’t was, after all, exactly why Masaharu had chosen that tactic. Did Yagyuu feel more protective of the tennis club than general schoolmates? Was that, perhaps, the reason he was so courteously distant toward them all, because otherwise he would care too much?

Masaharu was positive that Yagyuu’s smooth front hid some kind of passion behind it. No one played tennis the way he did without passion.

When Masaharu knew what kind, then he would have the key to unsettle The Unflappable One.

They were all playing doubles, and Masaharu was getting bored. It was all Yukimura’s fault. He had mentioned to the captain that, while the Regulars were well supplied with excellent singles players, their best doubles pair would be retiring soon, and wouldn’t it be a good idea to find out who could be promoted to fill that space? And, before you could blink, here they all were, with a rotation drawn up to see who might play well with whom. Because when Yukimura spoke like that, all quiet and reasonable and commanding, everyone did what he said, including the captain, who, Masaharu couldn’t help noticing, seemed a little afraid of Yukimura.

Masaharu spared a sneer, before hitting a surprise drive to set his current partner up with a nice, smashable lob. Surely, even Akashi couldn’t miss that one.

Most of his partners were incompetent, and the others were boring. The only one Masaharu had enjoyed his game with was Jackal, because, after a very brief shake-down, he had settled at the baseline and prevented the other side from scoring and let Masaharu toy with their opponents to his heart’s content. But he’d only gotten to play with Jackal twice so far.

It was times like this that he wished Yukimura wasn’t so damn easy-going most of the time. Any trick that didn’t involve tennis would roll right off that sunny charm he used to wind the club around his finger, and any trick that did involve tennis was right out of the question. If he tried it, Yukimura would probably have the nerve to give him instructions for improvement, after he finished mopping the court with Masaharu.

Never even mind that, if he did attempt to put something over on Yukimura, Sanada, who had no sense of humor Masaharu could detect, would skin him. Possibly for the purpose of making Yukimura a new pair of house slippers. Sanada was that kind of bloody minded, iron bastard, and anyone with eyes could see that he had a mother-hen complex over Yukimura. It went strangely with his hot temper, not to mention Yukimura’s greater skill, but Masaharu figured that was probably half the point—Yukimura could harness Sanada’s temper.

No, he decided, there was no hope for it. They were all stuck doing whatever Yukimura wanted. He aimed his last shot at his opponent’s toe, which at least elicited a nice yowl, and sulked.

Well, at least he was in good time to watch Yagyuu play his next match.

Yagyuu playing doubles was a curious thing, to Masaharu’s eye. After a couple weeks of doubles work, Yagyuu was getting a reputation as a frightening observer and analyst, because he tended to call aloud advice and directions to his partners regarding how to respond to the other pair. He wasn’t up to Yanagi’s level, but Masaharu would admit he did keep an impressive eye on his opponents.

The strange part was that he never seemed to so much as glance at his partner. Even if he was at the net, he seemed to know, without looking, where his partner was and what he was doing. He never said anything about that, which might explain why no one else had noticed yet; he just acted on the knowledge. Masaharu was fascinated.

Yagyuu’s matches tended to go pretty quickly, since it was still first-years playing first-years.

The second-year keeping an eye on them apparently agreed, since he looked at his roster, shrugged, and flipped to the next day’s page.

“Next!” he called. “Yagami-Ishida pair against Yagyuu-Niou pair!”

Masaharu blinked, and then smiled like a fox. His birthday present was here seven whole months early.

Yagyuu turned to look him up and down before shrugging minimally. “Perhaps you would be best suited to a forward position, Niou-kun?” he offered.

“Ever the gentleman,” Masaharu laughed, moving up.

As the focus of the match descended on them, though, he stopped laughing. His eyes widened and his teeth set. It had nothing to do with his opponents, though they weren’t too shabby a pair, and everything to do with what was standing behind him. Facing Yagyuu across the net he had noticed the intensity of Yagyuu’s game, the flare of focus and passion pressed under the smooth glass of Yagyuu’s manners and restraint. Playing on the same side as him was like standing next to a lightning strike. A charged, ringing atmosphere enfolded him. He could feel Yagyuu’s presence in it, like a weight. When he slid aside, before Yagyuu even called it, to let a drive sizzle past, ending the first game, Masaharu shot a pleased look over his shoulder and got an edged smile in return. Whatever Yagyuu did to keep track of his partners, it made him less careful of his distant front.

Masaharu was absolutely exhilarated. He knew he was showing himself more clearly than usual, too, and couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

They swept away the other pair in a whirlwind, and the second-year watching goggled a little until Masaharu gave him a sharp grin. Then he twitched.

“Winners, Yagyuu-Niou pair, 6-0,” he announced a bit blankly.

Masaharu was laughing again, under his breath, as he and Yagyuu walked off the court. He was positive, now, that he was playing with fire by seeking to unsettle Yagyuu.

So much the better.

“See you later, Yagyuu,” he murmured as they packed up. “Maybe we can play together again, some time.”

TBC