Ooishi lifted the lid of his desk, already knowing what awaited him in the depths.

"Another one," he sighed to himself as he extracted the bento, the words 'please leave the box' written on it in permanent marker, and set it on the table.

How long had that been going on for? One week, a little over? He didn't know, but it was getting quite tiresome. He could not deny his mysterious lunch-giver was a good cook, though - usually he resorted to giving his own home-brought bento to one of his friends and eating the wholly more suspicious one instead.

He tugged lightly on the pale blue cloth wrapping the box. The knot came undone quickly, and Ooishi picked up the disposable chopsticks taped neatly to the side of the plastic container.

There was a good selection of food that day. Egg rolls were lined up orderly in one compartment, and to his surprise he found octopus-shaped wieners directly next to them. The rice and side-dishes were all still warm. Splitting the chopsticks apart, he gave the customary call of 'Itadakimasu!' - more to himself than to the others in the room - and begin to eat.

As much as he enjoyed these tiny acts of kindness, he knew they had to stop.

--

He'd planned it all. How to find him or her, this lunch-giver.

Every day he'd receive two bentos - one for lunch and one for the break they had during club activities (deposited in his shoe locker, somehow). 'Catching' this person during lunch time was definitely difficult since there was always some switching of classes. There'd be ample time for someone to slip in and out.

So break it was.

Harsh, long hours of training made it hard to concentrate on the door all day, and so Ooishi, cleverly (or not so) making use of his fuku-buchou standing in the club, persuaded several freshmen to watch the clubroom, giving them the impression that some things had been going missing recently. One little white lie wouldn't do much harm, would it?

All went well. The time for break crept near.

Then the alarm sounded.

"Ooishi-senpai! I think we've got her!" The freshman came running up. "The others are stopping her from leaving."

It was a 'her'. He was quite unsurprised.

"Well, I think I need to talk to this person,"

The door was pushed open, and Ooishi stepped in. One of the random freshmen had a firm hold on the perpetrator's right wrist.

"Ah…!" she gasped as the bowling-ball-headed figure entered, and broke free of the freshman's grip. "You…"

Ooishi himself was unsure of how to go about extracting a confession from her. Did he even want a confession in the first place? What was it that he wanted again…? Oh yes, for her to stop.

"Uh, are you the one -"

The vice-captain's interrogation session was interrupted as the usual dark-skinned, arrogant second year strode into the room.

"Oi, freshmen! Why aren't you swinging your – O-Ooishi-senpai!" the last two words were reduced to a squeak as Arai Masashi realised that there had been another person of admittedly higher authority than him in the room.

He gave another strangled squeal as he saw the girl which had just become imprisoned in the Seishun Gakuen Boys' Tennis Club's clubroom. The expression of minor shock which had been on his face until just a few seconds ago, now warped into a mixture of distress, confusion and embarrassment.

Ooishi examined this scene curiously.

"You know her?"

There was only silence.

"I'm his sister," the schoolgirl responded, waving at her brother.

"Ah." the young fuku-buchou nodded understandingly.

Silence filled the room for the second time.

"… What?"

Arai looked like he was about to cry.

Recovering from his sudden outburst, Ooishi looked from Arai (female) to Arai (male). The second time he looked, indeed they looked related. They shared the same hair colour, though Arai (male) was undoubtedly tanner.

"Why are you even here in the first place?" Arai (male) asked his sister, speaking through his gritted teeth.

"I was just going to give you a bento, Masashi," Arai (female) replied, shooting him a smile. She dug into the plastic bag hanging at her wrist, and brought out a box similar to the kind Ooishi had been receiving.

Their sibling exchange continued for a while, a perplexed Ooishi barely following the conversation.

"Matsuri!"

Well, at least he didn't have to refer to each of them in his mind with their gender specified at the end anymore.

"I just wanted to make sure you were eating, okaa-san said -"

Deciding that an intervention was in order, the vice-captain cleared his throat loudly. They seemed to have forgotten his entire presence.

"So, let me get this straight… Arai-san was just giving Arai a bento…?" he tried to clarify, the over-attendance of 'Arai's making his speech hard to comprehend.

"Yes,"

"You were not,"

Matsuri just dropped the bento in the general direction of Arai, who immediately scrambled to catch it, which he did, fortunately. He scowled, but didn't look too irritated – the scent of what seemed to be karaage was wafting from the bento box.

"Thanks," he muttered, and left the area, the few puzzled freshmen following him like dogs.

The girl watched her brother leave, a somewhat self-satisfied smile on her face. She noticed Ooishi looking at her, and fired a grin at him.

"That's it. I'm going now,"

It was strange, the way she said such a cheerful thing without raising her voice. The feeling Ooishi got while hearing this last statement was somewhat calming. He shook it off quickly, and returned to the situation at hand.

"Ah, sorry for the trouble caused,"

She nodded her head, the grin on her face fading into a sheepish one. Matsuri's footsteps quickened a bit as she walked through the open doorway, looking at her feet the whole time.

Somehow, something doesn't sit right, Ooishi thought, staring at the third-year's retreating back. She had acted a bit weirdly when she was first caught, and Arai seemed surprised when she turned up. Also, he never got the chance to question her about what she was doing in the clubroom in the first place. She could have just passed it to Arai, but –

"OISHII!"

Ooishi, who had been contemplating the increasing number of loopholes in Arai Matsuri's story, was startled by Kikumaru Eiji's loud and not-so-flashy entrance.

"Eiji… ah, what -"

"Stop standin' there looking blank, nya! Practice, it's time for practice!" Kikumaru yelled, placing both hands on Ooishi's back and pushing him out. "I've been looking for you for ages!"

They were nearing the tennis courts. Kikumaru abruptly let go of his partner, who stumbled and nearly fell. The former sighed, putting a hand on his hip.

"Honestly, Ooishi! It's times like this where I'm the mother of the Mother of Seigaku!" he complained, steadying his companion with his free arm. "What were you doing in there anyway?"

The vice-captain considered how to put the event into words.

"I met Arai's sister, who was trespassing in our clubroom,"

"… Huh?"

Ooishi merely stifled his laughter. I don't want to bother Eiji with this trivial matter… I'll solve it myself.

"Never mind," he reassured his friend, swinging open the metal gate of the courts.

Spotting his tennis bag on a bench, he pulled out his racquet and fingered it, checking if the grip tape was secure.

I can't let this affect my tennis, anyway.

"Are we ready now?" called Kawamura from across the court. He was probably partnered with Fuji to play against them.

"Un," Ooishi affirmed, flexing his wrist a few times.

"Oishii! Let's show them what the Golden Pair's all about, nya!" Kikumaru flashed him a thumbs-up and a smile.

Nodding, he took his place on the court.

--

The next day, a bento appeared in its usual place.

--

A/N: Thank you for viewing this chapter. There will be less OC, more Arai, less Mary-Sue and more tennis later on. Well, probably, anyway.