Chapter Text
Megumi likes light, for the most part. He likes the soft yellow glow of his bedside lamp after a rough day of training. He likes the sharp white arena lights of Ashe, Laver, Chatrier that dull his senses during a match. He even likes the golden rays of sunlight that beam down during a clear day at his tennis practice facility in Tokyo. Most of all, he loves looking at the hazy glow that emits off all the stars dotting the night sky during a rare trip to the countryside.
However, Megumi hates the fluorescent office lights of the Japanese Tennis Association. They’re boring. They aren’t bright enough to completely dull his senses in the way he likes and the constant whitish hue is unnerving, making a slight restlessness settle into his stomach.
The floor-length glass windows of the conference room Megumi’s stuck in aren’t helping his sense of unease either. He’s positioned with a prime view of the rest of the JTA office floor he’s currently on.
The walls are white, and the floor is an equally uninteresting light wood color. The only decorations displayed, besides a meager looking houseplant, are headshots of the current Japanese tennis players and an overly large poster featuring Gojo, his current coach, on the wall.
Gojo’s lying on the hard-court of Arthur Ashe Stadium in New York. His limbs are extended out like a starfish, right hand holding his custom racket just above his head. His white hair is splayed against the dark green surface of the court, looking even brighter in contrast with his all black outfit. Gojo’s face is contorted into a terrifying grin, beaming with pride and resolve. The word ‘determination’ is written out in kanji underneath it.
It’s the only part of the office that isn’t overtly sterile and offputting.
Speaking of Gojo, Megumi can hear him talking next to him, chatting casually about their upcoming Wimbledon travel plans with an employee across the table.
Megumi could care less about making small talk with the JTA team, not in a rude way because he’ll engage politely if asked a question, but this entire meeting between all of them is pointless.
Gojo revealed this morning that the JTA wants to discuss Megumi’s participation in the Paris Olympics, now that pre-Olympic player rankings are finalized. Though, in Megumi’s opinion, there’s truly nothing to discuss. Of course he’s willing to represent Team Japan in the Olympics, he doesn’t have much of a choice, and, obviously, he’s qualified.
The Olympics don’t feel like the grand dream he envisioned when he was a child anymore. The honor of representing his country isn’t new, he does it all the time, and the exuberant atmosphere of London and Rio as he watched Gojo compete in the Olympics as a kid aren’t replicable. Not for a player like Megumi at least.
The Olympics themselves are just an additional strain on his grueling summer schedule. They aren’t that exciting. He’s competing because he has to. He’ll try and win because it’s another opportunity to improve.
Everything could have been solved by a simple email chain back and forth between both parties. Yet Megumi’s stuck here, in this stuffy conference room, waiting for the JTA president to finally grace them with his presence so this discussion can finally start.
An inconvenient meeting to discuss an inconvenient event.
Megumi shifts in his leather office chair, continuing to tone out the chatter occurring around him. His eyes lock onto a group of workers outside of the conference room, who are all crowded around one particular desk. From the way they’re all hunched over in a semicircle, they must be looking at something.
Megumi can’t make out what it is since their backs are blocking his view of the screen, but he can tell that they’re amused. A woman claps her hands together softly in admiration. One man’s back is moving a little, like he’s letting out a laugh. Another man turns to his side and shifts slightly to make a comment, giving Megumi a glimpse of the screen and the wide smiles being sported by a few side profiles.
Megumi blinks.
Displayed on screen is a familiar grin, joined by an obnoxious shade of pink hair. All of his teeth are showing, and the right side of his mouth is quirked up a little higher than his left. Megumi can almost hear the confident cadence of voice through the screen.
Yuuji Itadori.
Of course. Megumi should’ve expected the JTA to be equally obsessed with the viral interview of Itadori that’s making the rounds. Even Megumi’s seen it, along with the copious amount of headlines praising Itadori’s most recent performance in France.
Yuuji Itadori charms with humble confidence despite Semi-Final exit at Roland Garros.
Yuuji Itadori rises to World Rank 8 after a shocking win against Rank 1 Luis Moreno in the French Open Quarter Finals.
French Open Analysis: Itadori has the potential to dethrone Fushiguro as the top ranked Japanese player.
Potential Fushiguro-Itadori matchup as Wimbledon brackets get confirmed.
Yuuji Itadori. Yuuji Itadori. Yuuji Itadori.
Everything is always about Itadori, the twenty one year old tennis star who broke on the scene with unexpected power just a few years ago.
The player that captivates interviewers with witty jokes and an alluring smile. The endurance machine whose perseverance in long matches has made headlines around the globe. The player who somehow manages to persist and wrap Megumi up in countless comparisons and rivalry analyses despite Megumi defeating him in matches over, and over again.
Megumi doesn’t hate Itadori himself. He’s a respectable enough athlete, and Megumi truly doesn't know anything about him on a deeper level. His general presence is just irritating.
Everything about Itadori is different.
Tennis is something Megumi has trained for his entire life. He gave up his youth to compete in tournaments throughout elementary and middle school. He started competing in Junior Grand Slams as soon as he turned 14. He relinquished time with his friends and family to move to the United States alone and have more access to junior events while continuing to train at a sports academy in New York. Megumi officially debuted on the ATP Tour in January of 2019, just after he turned 16 while living in the States alone.
Itadori burst onto the tennis scene at 18 without playing through junior tournaments at all. He randomly appeared out of nowhere, and started climbing the professional ranks with ease.
Aside from their background, their personalities and playstyles seem like polar opposites too.
Itadori plays with brute power, Megumi is tactical and precise.
Itadori is charming and outgoing in interviews, Megumi is stoic and direct.
Itadori wears bright uniforms on court, Megumi sticks to black and navy.
Itadori’s Instagram feed is filled with personable posts and witty captions, Megumi’s is composed of contractual obligations and the occasional trophy photo.
Admittedly, maybe Megumi is a bit jealous of how easy everything has gone for Itadori and how their perceived differences somehow manage to make Itadori look better.
It makes sense though, of course the positive, bright, powerful player is better received. He’s more exciting to watch, an underdog who’s more fun to root for.
Megumi’s boring in comparison, not that he cares all that much. He has his own level of reputable success and sponsorships. His job, and only mission at this point, is to win and climb the rankings. Only then can he quit playing tennis in good conscience.
Itadori’s just an occasional bothersome presence in the back of his mind.
Megumi relinquishes an annoyed sigh, breaking his stare from the desktop that has Itadori’s smirk plastered all over it. Itadori has the luxury of being proud of his performance despite losing. How moving.
Engaging in small talk at the table is suddenly more appealing than ever.
Luckily, the JTA president, Masamichi Yaga, finally joins the conference room before Megumi is forced into socialization. He’s wearing a white collared shirt, black blazer, and a pair of rectangular framed glasses. He takes a seat at the head of the table, before giving a polite greeting to Gojo and Megumi.
“Gojo, Fushiguro.” Yaga turns to look at Megumi specifically, “That was a good fight you put up against Archetti in the semis last week.”
Megumi mutters out a thanks in response. Though it doesn’t feel like a ‘good fight’ since Archetti beat him for the fourth time in a row.
Yaga clears his throat, “Thank you both for taking the time to meet with us today. As you both know, the ATP World player rankings were updated after the French Open, so we can officially move on with Olympic eligibility discussions.”
Someone in the room presses a button on their laptop, and the TV screen on the wall behind Yaga comes to life. The screen is cold and uninviting, much like the office. A white background with plain black text displays a list of current Japanese players and their respective global rankings.
MEN
Megumi Fushiguro - ATP Rank 4
Yuuji Itadori - ATP Rank 8
Yuuta Okkotsu - ATP Rank 13
Aoi Todo - ATP Rank 38
WOMEN
Maki Zenin - WTA Rank 2
Nobara Kugisaki - WTA Rank 18
Kasumi Miwa - WTA Rank 42
“Fushiguro,” Yaga continues. “As expected, You’re the highest ranked male player in Japan. And, given your participation on our Davis Cup team in the past, we would be delighted to have you represent Team Japan at the Summer Olympics.”
Megumi nods politely, “Of course.”
Again, Megumi’s not sure why this could not have been solved with an email or phone call.
Yaga smiles softly. “Perfect. Thank you in advance. Now we can move onto the JTA’s thoughts about team composition.”
Team composition?
Tennis is an individual sport by nature, especially for Megumi. Singles is the only event he competes in, and will ever compete in. Maybe they just want him to understand what the other players are focused on, so they can present as a united front for the cameras.
Megumi looks at Gojo for answers, who responds with an equally confused, casual shrug before turning his attention back to Yaga. So much for his all-knowing coach.
The screen flips to the next slide. Megumi’s eyes start scanning it immediately for his name in the Singles category.
MEN’S SINGLES
MEGUMI FUSHIGURO
YUUJI ITADORI
YUUTA OKKOTSU
AOI TODO
WOMEN’S SINGLES
MAKI ZENIN
NOBARA KUGISAKI
KASUMI MIWA
Megumi feels relaxed, until he hears Gojo burst into a fit of laughter from the seat next to him. A sense of dread starts to creep up his spine as he moves his eyes down to the bottom half of the slide.
MIXED DOUBLES
MAKI ZENIN & YUUTA OKKOTSU
WOMEN’S DOUBLES
NOBARA KUGISAKI & KASUMI MIWA
MEN’S DOUBLES
MEGUMI FUSHIGURO & YUUJI ITADORI
Megumi’s entire body tenses.
Megumi Fushiguro and Yuuji Itadori.
That can’t be right. Megumi hasn’t played doubles competitively since he was in the States five years ago. It wouldn't make any sense for him to start now.
Most importantly, Megumi hates doubles, and he really doesn’t want to be bothered by trying to share the court with a player like Yuuji Itadori.
Doubles is burdensome, and won’t help his ultimate goal of progressing in the singles rankings. Plus, having another person on his team adds too many uncontrollable factors to the match. Megumi has to rely on their abilities. He has to incorporate their playstyle into his split-second match decisions. He has to adapt his own techniques around another person. He has to trust his teammate.
Megumi doesn’t trust anyone else on the court, especially not his polar opposite Yuuji Itadori.
He glares at the painfully dull slide on screen, hoping his stare makes the words disappear.
Megumi Fushiguro and Yuuji Itadori.
Gojo is shoving him, annoyingly, on the shoulder as his outburst of laughter continues.
Yaga starts, “Fushiguro, we know yo-”
“I don’t play doubles.” Megumi states bluntly, cutting him off. He doesn’t want to be rude, but it’s a simple fact.
“We know that, but we believe you and Itadori would be our best chance at winning the Gold.” Yaga’s tone remains calm.
“I don’t even have an ATP doubles ranking,” Megumi protests. “Does that not make me ineligible?”
“The specific ATP Rankings don’t matter for Olympics qualifications if the team has a high enough combined ranking from singles play,” Yaga persists. “Which you and Itadori clearly have.”
Megumi sighs internally, he probably shouldn’t be any ruder than he’s currently being to the JTA president. This means that Megumi would qualify with any of the potential partners at his disposal, and since he’s Japan’s best male player, he doubts the JTA is going to let go of him playing doubles easily.
“If that’s the case, can’t I just play with Yuuta?” Megumi counters, “We already train together so it would be easier. Or have Gojo come out of retirement to play.” That would certainly shake things up, and Megumi can at least trust the two of them.
Before Yaga can respond Gojo cuts in, “Don’t be silly Megumi. You know better than anyone that Maki and Yuuta are a mixed doubles powerhouse. Plus you’d have a hard time convincing Yuuta to play with you instead of Maki anyways.”
Megumi frowns, he does know that. Still, if he were to get down on his knees and beg Yuuta to be his partner in order to rescue him from his fate of playing with Itadori, he knows Yuuta is kind enough to agree. Getting Maki to relinquish her partner is the real issue.
“Regardless,” Gojo continues, completely ignoring Megumi’s suggestion about exiting retirement. “Can’t Itadori just play with Todo? They play doubles together regularly, no?”
“Frankly, Todo just isn’t good enough to ensure the gold,” Yaga responds.
Megumi stares at Yaga blankly. He doubts he’ll be able to secure the doubles gold either considering he and Itadori don’t even know each other. Even a player like Todo might have a better shot.
“Besides, all the other countries will be coupling up their top players as well,” Yaga extrapolates. “Which is why we need you for both singles and doubles Fushiguro. You’re a non-negotiable.”
“If I can add,” a woman across the table from Megumi interjects. “The gold is most important, but the two of you competing with each other would be huge for Japanese Tennis. Sponsors will be pleased, the public will love it, and there’s a multitude of media opportunities we can capitalize on.”
Megumi doesn’t care much about the public or the media, and he has high level sponsorships already. This partnership is quite literally offering him nothing.
Gojo lets out a dry chuckle, “I get it now. You’re trying to recreate what Suguru and I did in 2016.” He swings his arm around the top of Megumi’s chair playfully. “Megumi won’t be able to replicate me though.”
Megumi lets out an exasperated noise. Of course he can’t, he’s found that out quite well. Gojo Satoru in his prime was a biological anomaly that no one can imitate, not even his personally trained prodigy.
“Precisely,” Yaga replies. “The 2020 Olympics were a miss for us because you quit doubles, Fushiguro was injured, and Itadori had just started competing. This year we’ll win the gold again.”
“I’m only winning the Singles gold,” Megumi reiterates. “I’m not playing Doubles.”
“Ignore him please. You can still be stubborn and immature at twenty one apparently,” Gojo chides. He stands up out of his seat and extends his hand out towards Yaga, “We accept, Megumi is ecstatic to play doubles in the Olympics alongside Itadori!”
Megumi shoots up out of his seat in a panic, “Wait–”
Yaga shakes Gojo’s hand in confirmation, “I’ll send the team scheduling information over to Ijichi, I assume?”
“Yes, yes. Same for Maki and Yuuta, everything can go to Ijichi.”
“I–” Megumi starts to interject, but it’s futile. Everyone is already filing out of the conference room with excited whispers.
Megumi joins Gojo’s side in front of Yaga. His last hope remains with his opposite. “Did Itadori already agree to this?” He asks quickly.
Yaga hums, “Yes. We met with his team yesterday.” Of course Itadori approves where Megumi objects.
Megumi doesn’t respond, staring dissatisfactorily at Yaga’s pleased expression instead. He’s never been the best at hiding his emotions.
Him? Playing doubles with Itadori? Besides the fact that it’s unhelpful for his career, it’s just not going to work.
The only people Megumi could maybe play doubles with effectively are Gojo, his coach who’s retired, Yuuta, who’s already claimed, and Toge, who’s out on injury. He’s known all of them for years and it would still be difficult.
But Itadori? Megumi doesn’t know anything about Yuuji Itadori, besides his brutish playstyle and the fact that he seems different from Megumi in practically every way imaginable.
Megumi feels a hand on his back, breaking his thoughts and pushing him lightly to leave the now fully empty room. Yaga must have exited too.
“Come on kid,” Gojo says cheerfully.
Megumi follows Gojo through the sterile JTA office floor, bidding polite farewells to the workers as they pass through the cubicles.
Megumi pauses at the row of headshots on the wall near the entrance to the office space. All the current Japanese players are displayed like art pieces in a museum.
He makes eye contact with his own portrait, the first in the very top row leading a line of faces in plain black frames. His straight, almost expressionless face is staring back at him.
He doesn’t remember exactly when this photo was taken, but it has to be at least two years old. It’s a stark contrast from Yuuji’s beaming complexion in the frame next to him.
Another difference. Megumi looks apathetic while Yuuji looks vibrant.
He sighs. Even Yuuta and Maki are smiling in their photos. Yuta’s smile is soft, though his eyes carry an air of intimidation. Maki’s lips are curled up into a confident grin, making her look threatening but not off-putting, the type of confidence people like to see in athletes.
Megumi’s the odd one out, like always.
He shakes his head, leaving to exit through the glass doors of the JTA office area. Gojo is waiting for him by the elevator, tapping his foot lazily against the white tile of the floor lobby.
“Checking yourself out?” Gojo jests.
Megumi shoots him an unimpressed glare before moving to call the elevator, jabbing his finger forcefully into the down button.
“Oh, so you’re mad at me,” Gojo says matter of factly.
“You think?”
“Megumi.” Gojo’s voice is monotone, his normal undertones of amusement are gone. “Look at it this way. Doubles is going to help your precision and reaction time, especially up at the net. That’s how Moreno and Archetti are besting you right now. They’re forcing you up the court because they know it makes you uncomfortable. You’ll be able to read the court quicker with Doubles practice too.”
That’s true. Megumi dislikes going up to the net because the court is harder to control. One sneaky overhead or side shot by his opponent and the point is over.
“Plus,” he continues. “You have to learn more about Itadori in order to beat him in singles. This is the perfect opportunity to do that.”
“I’m already beating him,” Megumi replies.
“Yes, but Itadori is scary. His shots are getting more accurate by the match, and his raw power is unparalleled by anyone else on tour. We need to understand him better so we can continue crushing him.”
The elevator arrives with a ding, and the two enter in tandem. Gojo leans back against the wall as Megumi presses the Lobby floor.
“I don’t wanna understand him better.” Megumi grumbles.
“That’s another thing, you’re too stubborn. Interacting with other players can help your game in millions of ways.” Gojo’s amusing tone is back. “You learn stuff through the most random interactions. Doubles is fun! Bonding with other players is fun! The Olympics are fun!”
Megumi crosses his arms, “Yeah because you and Geto had such a fun relationship.”
“Don’t be a dick,” Gojo knocks his shoulder against Megumi’s. “The Olympics were fun though. The best time I ever had playing tennis was in Rio.” He sounds thoughtful, nostalgic even.
Megumi looks down at the fake wooden floor of the elevator. The tips of his cream colored sneakers are slightly scuffed. “Of course it was, they completed your golden year.”
“Aside from that.”
Easy for him to say, Megumi thinks to himself.
“I wouldn’t have been able to win everything that year without Suguru,” Gojo smiles. “Give Itadori a chance. I just want you to have fun for once.”
Megumi doesn’t know if truly enjoying himself at a tennis tournament is possible anymore. And if it is, it won’t be alongside Itadori.
The elevator chimes, silver doors opening to a bustling lobby filled with workers on their lunch breaks.
Gojo, innately sensing that Megumi isn’t fully persuaded yet, persists. “The adrenaline, the other athletes, the constant competition. It’s not like any of the other prestigious tournaments we get to play in. It’s even more exhilarating.”
Gojo swings an arm around Megumi’s shoulders, pulling him in closer as he starts counting with his fingers. “The environment. Studying your opponents. Playing in two events. Working in a team. Perfecting your net game. Reading the court quicker. All of it will make you a better player, I promise.” Gojo pauses to wave at a worker who gasps when he walks by. “Just trust me. Have I ever given you bad advice?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a lie.”
It’s not. Although, admittedly, Gojo normally has good professional advice. It’s the personal advice that falls short.
Gojo takes the hand he had dangling off Megumi’s shoulder and ruffles it through his hair. Megumi feels stray strands of his bangs brush against his forehead, the longer ones obstructing his vision slightly. “If you don’t improve, I’ll let you use me as target practice. Deal?”
This is Gojo’s version of giving Megumi an out. It’s disguised under humor and incredibly vague conditions, but Megumi knows this is Gojo asking him to officially make a decision about playing doubles.
Though, Megumi still doesn’t have much of a choice.
It’s simple. If Gojo wants him to be the best, then he has to become the best in order to repay him. He’s only three ranks away from the top, but those three ranks seem insurmountable. If anything will help Megumi climb up to the peak, then it’s a requirement at this point.
Megumi can survive the Olympics. He can survive doubles with Itadori. It’s just another box on his schedule he has to tick off, another step closer towards his, and Gojo’s, daunting goal.
Gojo pushes ahead of Megumi to open the front door of the lobby, revealing a semi-busy Tokyo sidewalk.
Megumi steps out of the corporate building, finally reunited with the summer heat of early June. Megumi can’t make out a single cloud above the skyscrapers towering around him. The blue sky is endless. A weight imposed by the stuffiness of the JTA office has been lifted off him.
Megumi returns his focus to Gojo, who’s icy blue eyes are already locked on him. They’re anticipating, eagerly awaiting Megumi’s response to his proposition.
“Deal.”
───────
The sun is beaming down on Court Two of the Satoru Gojo Tennis Academy practice facility, located in a quiet suburb of Tokyo. The heat is stifling. Megumi’s entire body feels sticky with sweat, clothes clinging onto his body in random places.
The crack of Maki’s racket echoes to Megumi’s right as she fires off a forehand over the net.
“How can you dislike Itadori if you’ve never really met him?” She questions.
For some reason, Maki decided that the right time to pester Megumi about his ‘attitude problems’ surrounding doubles was in the middle of their joint training session.
Megumi’s eyes lock onto the bright yellow ball zooming towards him from the ball machine. He loops his racket back with both of his hands, and whips the ball straight across the court.
“I don’t dislike him, and we’ve met plenty of times. Tournaments, Davis Cup.”
“I’m talking about actually having a conversation. Only interacting when you’re about to play against each other doesn’t count.” Maki places her next forehand perfectly at the baseline of the court. “Itadori seems nice.”
Megumi grunts, slamming the ball that gets fired to him. “He seems unbearable to actually talk to.”
Megumi has exchanged surface level pleasantries with Itadori plenty of times. Shaking hands before a match, a simple hello during Davis Cup obligations, a mandatory smile when the cameras are both locked onto them. Nothing more, nothing less.
Itadori always tries his hardest to engage in an actual conversation with Megumi, but he always brushes him off or comes up with a conveniently timed excuse.
They’re in the Team Japan locker room during the Davis Cup finals? Megumi has his headphones on. They both exit the court at the same time after a match? Megumi speedwalks to find Gojo in order to debrief as fast as he can. They pass each other in a hotel hallway? Megumi pretends to be on the phone.
Conversing with Itadori would require energy that Megumi isn’t willing to spare. If it doesn’t directly help him with tennis, he’s not overly interested. If it isn’t about his sister, or Gojo, or his small group of friends, Megumi doesn’t want to be bothered.
It’s not just Itadori either, Megumi keeps up that mentality with almost every other player he meets. He’s not trying to be rude, it’s just easier that way. No distractions. No one trying to learn anything about his life. The media does enough prodding and poking to last a lifetime, he doesn’t need it from his competitors too.
Yuuta chimes in from the sidelines, where he’s lounging on the shaded wooden bench between Court One and Two. “Yuuji’s actually super friendly. I’ve talked to him a lot over the past few years during Davis Cup matches. He’s always energetic and optimistic, it’s kinda refreshing.”
Megumi has witnessed Itadori’s unbridled positivity firsthand as well.
He’s always congratulated Megumi with a wide grin after every single match they’ve played, despite getting crushed into defeat. He fired off jokes in the Team Japan locker room, even when they’re being outclassed and beaten down by Team Italy in the Davis Cup finals.
Megumi just doesn’t get him.
“Awww, energetic and optimistic! A perfect match for our Megumi.” Maki sings teasingly, hitting her forehand in a perfect arc.
“Yuuta should play with him then, if they’re already so close.” Megumi mumbles, slicing his backhand with one hand over the net.
Yuuta hums, “I would rather play with Maki.”
“Stop trying to pawn off my partner, Megumi. Yuuta and I are winning gold.” Maki follows, firing off another perfect shot.
“I’m winning gold too, just not with Itadori.” Megumi meets the ball with a haphazard slice again, it grazes the top of the net before landing in the service box instead of the backcourt.
“Stop slicing at the ball Megumi! Deep squares!” Gojo shouts from the court behind Yuuta, interrupting whatever conversation he was having with Shoko, Ijichi, and Toge.
Megumi sighs as Maki snickers beside him.
“Get over yourself,” she chides after making her next shot. “You’re already fucking stuck with him, so you might as well try and win.”
Megumi will try, he’s an athlete after all. Tennis might be miserable at times, but ultimately the adrenaline on court is addicting. Megumi loves to win, and throwing a doubles match in the Olympics probably wouldn’t be the greatest for his reputation or mental state.
However, he’s also pragmatic. There’s absolutely no way he and Itadori will mesh well enough to win gold.
“Be nice Maki,” Yuuta appeals. Megumi hears her grumble an apology to his right. “We know it’s harder for you to share the court with someone, Megumi.” Yuuta’s voice is soft and comforting, even though his statement makes Megumi feel exposed. “But just give it a try. Doubles can’t hurt you, actually working alongside Yuuji might be fun.”
It might not hurt, but it can greatly inconvenience him.
“Maybe,” he huffs, slamming his backhand perfectly into the backcourt where Gojo wants it.
If he tries hard enough, perhaps Megumi can just dominate the court and lead them to victory on his own. Itadori’s cooperation might not even be required.
“If Itadori’s an actual dick I’ll hit him for you,” Maki asserts.
Megumi cracks a small smile at that. Leave it to his cousin to, somewhat deservingly, insult him and then say something protective seconds later.
The ball machine stops with an abrupt beep and shout from Gojo, “All Satoru Gojo Tennis Academy students please make your way to Court One!”
Maki gives Megumi a playfully annoyed eye roll at Gojo’s statement. There’s only three students currently in his self proclaimed Tennis Academy, since Toge is injured, and they also happen to be the only three players on the courts right now.
The three make their way over to where Gojo, Shoko, and Toge are all gathered on the sidelines. They’re standing in the shade, hiding from the summer sun in shadows cast by the facility clubhouse.
“Sit, sit.” Gojo says, motioning to the ground.
Megumi sits down onto the court, crossing his legs. The heat emanating from the surface burns into his thighs despite it being shaded. The coarseness of the concrete and acrylic sand mixture used to make the hard surface of the court is scratchy, yet familiar against his skin.
Maki plops down to Megumi, Yuuta next to her, and Toge moves away from Gojo and Shoko to sit next to Yuuta.
Ijichi returns seconds later, rolling a whiteboard onto the court. June – September Summer Schedule is written at the top.
Maki sighs, “If we’re going over scheduling can’t we move inside?”
“Nope,” Gojo responds happily. “The heat is good for you!”
Ijichi wheels the whiteboard in front of the four of them, and hands Gojo a black marker. Gojo flips the whiteboard to the other side before Megumi can actually get a good glimpse at the schedule written out. “Before going over scheduling, we’re gonna talk about some coaching changes really quick.”
Gojo pushes his round sunglasses on top of his head, and starts poorly drawing three different stick figures on the board.
“I didn’t sign up for live art classes.” Megumi quips, making Maki giggle to his left. He’s still feeling a bit vindictive from Gojo automatically forcing him into a doubles team yesterday.
Gojo ignores Megumi’s remark, focusing on perfecting his stick figure arrangement. He scribbles dramatically spiky hair on the one to the left, adds obnoxiously large glasses to the one in the middle, and heavily underlines the eyes of the one on the right.
“I don’t even wear glasses anymore,” Maki complains.
“My dark circles are genetic,” Yuta pouts.
“You suck at drawing,” Megumi deadpans.
Gojo turns around with an unbothered smile, “Tough crowd. I’m trying to make this more fun for us, you know.” His blue eyes scan all three of them. “We’re changing the coaching system slightly.”
Gojo writes down Shoko, under the stick figure that’s supposed to resemble Maki, and Gojo under the stick figure that signifies Megumi.
Megumi stares at the board blankly.
Shoko is already Maki’s head coach, and Gojo is, obviously, already his. Toge’s been injured on and off for almost a year at this point, so Ijichi’s been acting as Yuuta’s coach with some input from Gojo. Before that, when they were all healthy, Ijichi focused on Toge and Yuuta was coached by one of Gojo’s friends, Miguel, for a while.
Gojo pushes the end of the marker against his lip thoughtfully. “Oh, well I guess it’s only really changing for Yuuta.”
Gojo writes Toge under Yuta’s stick figure. He underlines the name with a squiggle before turning around. “Please officially welcome Toge Inumaki as an official member of the SGTA coaching team!” Gojo announces excitedly.
He’s shaking his arms and emphasizing Toge like it’s some grand reveal.
Megumi turns to look at Toge immediately, puzzled at the sudden announcement. Toge shoots up out of his sitting position and starts clapping and cheering for himself along with Gojo.
Megumi frowns. He knew Toge’s elbow injury was bad, but not retirement from professional tennis bad.
Yuuta doesn’t seem phased though. He’s looking up at Toge with a soft understanding smile instead of confusion like Megumi.
“No way.” Maki scowls, “You can’t retire yet.”
Toge just grins, “Sorry Maki. Unless you have magical healing properties I’m stuck in retirement.”
“Stop joking around Toge, this is serious,” Maki glowers. “You can’t just quit like that. Start practicing with us again.”
Toge sticks out his tongue in Maki’s direction “I just did.”
Maki pops up from the court, moving over and shoving her palm into Toge’s shoulder with an annoyed glare.
Megumi knows Maki just wants all of her friends to rise to the top with her, even if she’s expressing it somewhat harshly. Toge retiring at twenty two is probably shocking to her too.
Gojo cuts in before Maki can start threatening him more, “In Toge’s defence, he didn’t have much of a choice. He’s still too injured to play this summer, and the surgeon said continuing to play professionally in any capacity would put his bicep tendons at risk again.”
“I don’t want Toge to retire either,” Gojo asserts. “But I also don’t want him to fully lose mobility in his arm. At least with him on the coaching staff he can still be a part of our team and travel around with us.”
So the injury was that bad. Megumi feels guilty for not knowing anything. He could have given Toge some moral support at least.
Toge steps back from Maki, to sit back down next to Yuuta. He swings an arm around Yuuta’s shoulders. “Yuuta and I are gonna be unstoppable together.”
Maki sighs, giving in easily. “As long as you're happy.”
Megumi nods, feeling like he needs to add something to the conversation, though he’s unsure what to say. An apology? Something funny to ease the tension? He decides to just be sincere instead. “You’ll be an amazing coach, Toge.”
Toge is clearly young for a coach, but something about him and Yuuta feels right. Yuuta is already disciplined enough to where Toge won’t need to be overbearing in the typical coach way, so it’s not like their friendship will change much. He just needs to read situations and invent strategies. On top of that, Toge and Yuuta have some sort of nonverbal understanding that Megumi’s never been able to pick up on, so he’s fairly confident they’ll be just fine.
Toge shoots him a thumbs up with a sly grin, “We’re gonna destroy you.”
Megumi crosses his arms casually, “I doubt it.”
“As long as Yuuta copies some of Archetti’s plays we can beat you every time,” Toge pokes. Way to remind Megumi of his unfortunate losing streak.
Megumi grins, giving into Toge’s provocation. “Impossible, even with Archetti’s tactics. The day you finally beat me I’ll buy both of you dinner at a restaurant of your choosing.”
“I’ve beaten you before though? Plenty of times?” Yuuta questions earnestly. He and Yuuta have been battling it out since they were kids.
“Yeah, but not with Toge. He’s gonna hold you back.” He’s not going to hold Yuuta back at all. Megumi just wants to bother him.
“You literally just said I was gonna be an amazing coach,” Toge groans.
“That was before you mercilessly attacked me,” Megumi defends.
“Am I also invited to the dinner Megumi’s paying for?” Maki adds, “Or?”
“Hah!” Toge exclaims, “See, even Maki knows we’re gonna beat you.”
“Okay, okay,” Gojo cuts them off. “Save your banter for later.”
He turns to write Ijichi’s name on the side of the board, drawing arrows to all three of the figures. “Now that we have Toge, Ijichi will bounce between all three of you helping with analytics and administrative stuff instead of just focusing on Yuuta. Questions?”
All of them shake their heads.
Gojo flips the board back over to the schedule section. It’s detailed, organized, and no doubt written in Ijichi’s handwriting. Gojo points to the first segment on the board with his marker: Pre-Wimbledon Training.
Gojo starts, “Today is June 13th. Wimbledon starts July 1st. All of us fly out to London on June 27th to get there a few days early, as always. Training for all of you will be five or six days a week until then as normal. Except,” Gojo clacks his marker on three different dates in the column, “on June 16th, 20th, and 23rd.”
Megumi leans in to read the details better.
June 16th: Team Japan Media Day
June 20th: Uniqlo All-White Shoot - Megumi Fushiguro & Maki Zenin
June 23rd: Yuuta Okkotsu Professional Return - Domestic Media Circuit
Megumi feels bad for Yuuta, a full day of various interviews sounds like literal torture. He’s never been more grateful for just having a photoshoot on his radar. The Team Japan media obligations don’t seem that bad either. Media Days normally don’t take that long.
Gojo continues “Each of you has to be there on the 16th. Uniform photos, commercial content, social media. The JTA and Team Japan want to get everything done in one day, so all players will be there, not just the ones based in Tokyo.”
Maki knocks her shoulder into Megumi’s teasingly, “Perfect time to bond with your new partner.”
Right, he’s pretty sure Itadori is based out of Sendai instead of Tokyo. Now Team Japan Media Day seems extremely bad.
“Yes, Megumi.” Gojo says pointedly, latching onto Maki’s comment. “That would be a good time for you to make friends with Itadori.”
Yuuta speaks up before Megumi can complain, “Shouldn’t all the Olympics media be filmed after Wimbledon?”
It’s only one day of media, but Yuuta’s right. Megumi would rather focus on the upcoming Grand-Slam while he can. The summer schedule, especially in an Olympic year, doesn’t leave much time for training.
“Typically, yes. But,” Gojo draws an arrow from Pre-Wimbledon Training to Wimbledon and then to Pre-Olympics Training. “The JTA wants us to stay in Europe for training before the Olympics start.”
Stay in Europe? It’s not ideal, but Megumi supposes it makes sense. There’s not a lot of time between the Wimbledon finals and the start of the Summer Olympics anyways. Their recovery and training time would be maximized if they didn’t have to deal with flights back and forth from Japan.
Gojo underlines the dates under the Pre-Olympics heading: July 15th - July 25th.
“This gives us at least ten days of recovery and practice before the Olympics. More depending on how far each of you progresses at Wimbledon. Plus, the JTA has rented out a fancy five-star hotel in the French countryside for the entire team to help us prepare,” He adds simply.
“French… countryside?” Yuuta starts.
“Since when has the JTA ever cared about us that much,” Maki adds.
“Can they even afford a hotel like that?” Toge asks.
“Why.” Megumi says, more as a statement and less of a question. He’s never heard of any tennis federation doing something like that for their athletes.
Gojo shrugs. “They tend to care about the Olympics a lot. Pressure from the government, sponsorship money, more attention on tennis in general. Maybe they’re doing it to thank you for representing the country. Maybe they think a fancy hotel will help you recover better. Maybe they just wanna be able to say we’re one united team on social media. I don’t know. But the hotel looks insane, and I don’t have to pay for it, so I can’t complain.”
Megumi can complain. Being trapped in one hotel with all the other Japanese players and their coaches sounds like torture.
Maki suddenly switches gears, attitude becoming a lot more positive. “So we’re getting a free vacation,” she reasons.
“Well, it’s for practice technically.” Shoko speaks, contributing to the conversation for the first time. “But I’m sure I can make recovery take up a majority of the time.”
Maki’s face bursts into a smile as she claps her hands together.
“No recovery for you Megumi,” Gojo sings. “You are playing doubles with Itadori for eight hours a day.”
Megumi sighs, though he knows Gojo is intentionally trying to annoy him.
“Is there a pool?” Toge inquires.
Ijichi nods, “Pool, spa, sauna, tennis courts, seaside view. It has it all.”
Toge gives Yuuta a wicked grin, “Make sure to pack a swimsuit.”
“Am I the only one who actually has to practice?” Megumi protests.
Six yeses echo around the court.
Megumi grunts and leans back, letting his back fall against the unforgiving concrete. The heat from the surface soaks into his shoulderblades.
Megumi squints up into the afternoon sky while the rest of the group continues to converse around him. The sky is clear, same as yesterday. Megumi has to fully close his eyes to avoid blinding himself from the sun.
The rest of his summer seems daunting. Nonstop tournaments, playing multiple events in the Olympics, media obligations, Yuuji Itadori.
Megumi exhales slowly, tuning out the excited voices around him and focusing solely on his own thoughts.
The rays are beaming down, warmth caressing his face in a gentle embrace. A slight breeze tickles the tip of his nose, the highpoints of his cheekbones. The court is scratchy against the back of his head, slightly unpleasant but primarily comforting.
He’s been in this exact position, laying down in the sun, hundreds of times before on courts across the globe.
At first it was a position of exhaustion, collapsing on his back to look up at the sky as a child after a rough set or intense practice session. Then it morphed into a pose of nostalgic comfort when he moved to America, when he would lay on the court alone late at night, or whenever he particularly missed Japan.
The rough surface of the hard court feels the same in any country. Equally harsh, equally soothing.
Now it’s a position of thought, where Megumi leans back to look at the sky from the court when he doesn’t know what else to do. When he’s nervous about something.
The only moments of solace he gets on the courts he’s given up so much for are in instances like this, where he can exist without any pressure within the one constant he’s always known.
Megumi tries to relax, and convince himself with a deep breath that he’s pleased with the path he’s traveling down for the summer.