Author's note: This is a collaberation fic between doroniasobi and yours truly, written as a birthday fic for AquaJet. In truth, doro probably wrote and did more than I did because she's that awesome. Oops? Oh well, happy birthday, Aqua! I hope you enjoy your RyoSaku fix!
Under the Rain
They meet on the streets of Tokyo one night when it's raining. It's not even the romantic sort of rain; it's the kind that stings the eyes and gives one the image of a drowned rat. It's a terrible night; only the two of them want to be out then. Ryoma looks like a wet lump of walking clothes, and it just may be the reason Sakuno walks right into him on a pavement wide enough for three people.
He glares. She cringes.
It rains even harder.
The two of them end up at Sakuno's house a little later with a reason that none of them are quite sure of. ("We're friends," Sakuno's grandmother offers as an explanation, as Ryoma's father snorts indignantly.) Echizen Nanjirou sits in a comfortable chair, holding a bottle of booze in one hand and makes strange hand motions with the other, singing to himself in a light, high-pitched voice. Sumire sits in another chair across from the drunken man and rolls her eyes, sipping water from her glass.
Sakuno's eyes avert Ryoma's the whole time, her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them tightly, as though protecting herself from something.
She is nervous.
It might be because of the 'I don't care' aura that Ryoma gives off or because Sakuno has never known how to act around boys. Or maybe it's because there were sparks when their bodies collided, or the 'sorry' she'd managed to squeak out after.
Whatever it is, Sakuno walks over to the bathroom to dry her hair and comes out a lot less wet and thinking a lot more clearly. When she finds Ryoma sleeping on the couch, Sakuno looks around; Nanjirou is already asleep in the wooden chair, and her grandmother is looking at her, mouthing a 'they can stay for the night'.
Smiling gently as Sumire whispers a quiet 'good night', Sakuno studies Ryoma carefully; his hair looks soft and his features are distinct and clear, his sleeping face looking that of a kitten's. Sakuno adjusts the pillow under his head, and all of a sudden, Ryoma is awake, blinking and rubbing is shirt sleeve over his face.
I'm sorry, Sakuno squeaks, eyes wide. Suddenly she remembers why she felt so awkward around him. Um… She hands him a towel. Your hair—it's still wet.
Ryoma, still disoriented, looks at the towel as though he's never seen one before and looks back at Sakuno. Thanks, he says, and puts the towel on his head. Suddenly he is not the person who she bumped into in the rain. Sakuno blushes, aware that this scene is not at all normal, but perhaps, for this stranger, she might be able to do without normalcy this one night.
Ryoma stretches and adjusts his seating on the couch before slowly turning to Sakuno; do you have a sports channel?
As it turns out, Sakuno's television does have a sports channel—several different ones at that. Ryoma stares hard at the screen and wordlessly accepts the mug of tea offered to him as the events on the screen switch from soccer to tennis. Sakuno concentrates harder on her tea, noting how Ryoma's tea sits in his hands, still and otherwise completely untouched.
The atmosphere is no longer stiff; Sakuno looks at Ryoma and wonders why he seems to fit in as well as the old pieces of furniture. It's almost as though he's been there this whole time and Sakuno's just noticed it. It is shocking and frightening at the same time as it is partially thrilling.
Sakuno is suddenly painfully aware that Ryoma is a stranger in her house and even more aware of the sudden fierce urge that she has to know more about him.
The next morning, Ryoma and his father leave the Ryuuzaki household; Ryoma nods his head forward in a gesture of thanks and tilts his cap over his face, spins on his heel, and walks away, tailing his father.
Sakuno watches until the bobbing hat fades from her sight.
She meets him again by chance in a convenience store. He's got a can of Ponta in his hand upon her arrival, and when she smiles, walks to him, greets him 'hello', he stares back at her and says do I know you?
It's late, later than it was before. Sakuno feels the tips of her ears burn red as she struggles to answer.
But it's too late to say anything, and before the words can slip through the barrier of her lips, he's gone, just like that, an elusive dream forever out of reach.
Or so she thinks.
She sees him every day at the tennis courts, and he's always practising his heart out as if he's discovered some new purpose in his existence. He has changed since he has first come to Seigaku; that much is obvious, Sakuno can see. But the change has nothing to do with her, even as she watches the corner of his lips break out into that subtle smile every once in a while. He's only does this with the regulars, though, so that's why Sakuno knows.
She still feels happy anyway, because it's at that those times she knows she's seeing part of his soul, even though it's through a tinted window and he can never look back at her. Some part of her wants to reach out and touch, and even though that voice is growing more insistent, she can keep it under control.
Or so she hopes.
It's when she sees him after Nationals that he looks at her as if he remembers who she is. He looks at all the freshmen with warmer eyes because that wave of euphoria from the final match has not faded yet. So Sakuno brushes her hair out from her eyes and says Congratulations, Ryoma-kun, and he looks back at her and he says Thanks.
At that moment, it begins to rain, but it's not that dampening sort of rain that quells a person's spirit, nor is it that romantic rain. It's simply light rain, a drizzle, but it's surprisingly cold and chilly. Sakuno feels drenched from only a few drops and when she looks at Ryoma, she realises he's thinking exactly the same thing. It gives her a curious thrill, and for some reason, she wants to break out into a smile, even though she's quickly becoming, cold, wet and miserable.
Then Sakuno remembers that time Ryoma came to her house and – it's a bit embarrassing – although she says Do you remember, Ryoma-kun? He stares at her, as if about to ask if he knows her, but then thinks better of it. He simply smirks in that Echizen Ryoma way.
It was wet, he says, and annoying.
The drizzle becomes heavier and heavier, until it really does become like the rain from that day, and suddenly Ryoma's choice of adjectives seem highly appropriate. It's something else they have in common now, like that fondness for tennis and countless memories of tournaments gone by.
Sakuno cringes, and Ryoma glares at the heavens.
It rains even harder.