Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis was created by Konomi Takeshi. Not me. Please don't sue.
AN: I wanted to write this after I understood the episode better, but decided to chug it out before the muse escaped. Many thanks to Sayochama and Ale-chan for their translations.
Comments and criticisms welcome. Enjoy.
Happy
By Cinpii
It started with a question. Small. Innocuous. Trifling, really.
"Echizen, are you happy?"
Ryoma paused for a moment, caught off guard by the inquiry.
It was a common enough phrase. He shouldn't have been so startled. But those four simple words carried a breadth of meaning.
He stood there on the concourse, cat shaped eyes taking in the serious face of his senpai.
Ryoma knew he wasn't the easiest person to get along with. But right from the start Momoshiro had singled him out. Against Ryoma's will, the gregarious, spiky haired teen had pestered and cajoled and forced his way into Ryoma's friendship.
They had competed and hung out. Practiced and fought. Momo played with him, bickered with him, watched over him. And out of everyone Ryoma met during his brief stay in Japan, Momo was probably the only one who shared enough rapport to even ask such an incisive, personal question.
He deserved an honest answer.
Am I happy?
Ryoma tugged the bill of his cap down to obscure his expression.
They were all here for him, at the airport to say goodbye. The proof of their well wishes in their presence and in the gifts he held. The smile on his face was genuine.
"Yeah."
I'm happy.
Standing there, looking at the people who took the time to see him off to America. His family. His teammates and friends. Even the two reporters from the tennis magazine. It was enough.
Wasn't it?
So she wasn't here. So what?
He didn't need a clumsy, forgetful little girl who sucked at tennis and couldn't discern east from west to support him. He didn't need a girl whose hips wobbled uncontrollably whenever she swung a racket. He didn't need a girl with ridiculously long pigtails and zero coordination.
Never mind how much it hurt that she wasn't here. If she couldn't be bothered to come at this important milestone of his life, he did not need her.
He didn't.
I don't.
3 o'clock. Ryoma grabbed a Ponta to while away the few more minutes it'd be until boarding time. Now that all the goodbyes had been said, it was almost awkward standing there. Osakada making the comment of her best friend's whereabouts was just a stab in the heart, and he didn't want to see the sympathy in the eyes of his friends.
They knew he liked her. It was a given. Something unspoken. Why else would he tolerate all the good-natured gibes of his teammates? Endure all the unsolicited 'encouragement'?
It was when he was returning from the vending machines when he saw her. She ran right by him with a speed he raised his eyebrows at. But he didn't have to see her face or hear her words to know that it was her. The telltale pink blur and trailing mahogany plaits. The ungraceful rhythm of arms and legs in motion, propelling her forward.
Yup. That was Ryuzaki.
Her pretty face crumbled in dismay when she thought she didn't make it in time. Looking at her forlorn expression, looking at her petite form collapsed upon the ground, looking at her exhausted for his sake, Ryoma felt a warmth envelope his body.
Tipping his Ponta back, he hid the small smile that played at his lips. And then, because it was the only way he would express his feelings for her with their current audience, he teased her.
The words came easy, comfortable and familiar.
"You came too late."
Her breathing hitched, an arrhythmia that had nothing to do with her panting.
Taking a sip from his can, "Your planning sucks."
Reddish brown eyes wide and incredulous, she rose to her feet. His name escaped her lips.
The tennis prodigy merely continued his tirade. "Your hair's too long."
Her surprised features transformed into an exasperated pout. "What does my hair length have to do with anything?"
It didn't, of course. He only said it because he knew it would get her riled. Ryoma secretly enjoyed putting a soft flush in Sakuno's cheeks. And though he wouldn't admit it even under the threat of Inui's most toxic concoction, he had come to like her braids. They were just so Sakuno.
His senpai-tachi took that moment to make themselves known. Obnoxious catcalls and whistles pervaded the air. Really. Like they never witnessed a boy and girl conversing before. After staring them down for a moment, Ryoma decided to ignore their existence in lieu of explaining the look of confusion from her face.
"The flight time got delayed."
"I-I see." The blush was still there, but fainter. "I didn't know what to give you, so I was late," she trailed off.
Leave it to Ryuzaki to fret over something so inconsequential as a parting gift. Silly girl. She didn't need to do that. Her presence was enough. Not that he intended to let her know that though.
"Remember when you asked for my tennis ball?" Sakuno questioned, referring to the other day when he had happened upon her practicing. The ball she used was the same one she had drawn a caricature of his likeness on. In a sentimental moment, he requested to keep it.
"It occurred to me that the only present that would suit Ryoma-kun would be this." With a flourish, she displayed a fuzzy yellow sphere with black etchings.
It took only a second to read, but the words made no sense. They meant number one in Japan. He was going to play in the US Open. Surely she didn't mean the All-Japan Tournament…
Sakuno clarified. "Not Japan, the entire world. This ball means that of all the nations in the world, the best player will be Ryoma-kun." Her smile, like her faith in him, was brilliant.
His eyes sharpened with understanding.
He took her gift with a thank you as his flight's announcer called for passengers to board. He was halfway across the concourse towards his teammates when she cupped a hand around her mouth to help raise her voice above the din.
"Fight-o, Ryoma-kun!"
She didn't see it. No one saw it. On his face, he wouldn't let anyone see anything at that moment except a look of fierce determination. He was going to show the world his tennis.
And was he happy?
Yes.
I'm happy.
FIN