Alternate Rumic World MI-1: Ace no Ikkoku

[an offshoot from the Variations on a "Them" thread of the "Rumic World Messageboard"]

by RyogasGirl & jalp

(Not that we own these characters! They belong to Takahashi-sensei and whoever she says.

We've just enjoyed finding a few new ways for these people to make things interesting. . . .)

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Imagine there's no Sôichirô teaching at her high school. Perhaps young Chigusa Kyôko isn't as distracted from her studies. Or maybe she puts her extra time and energy into her tennis.

She was good in the RRW (Real Rumic World). In this ARW timeline, she's better. Good enough to shine in some local tournaments – to dream of qualifying for the professional tour.

And then she catches the eye of a certain male pro. . . .

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Episode #1: Everybody Loves Kyôko

Chapter 1:

First Serve

It was late. The press room at the Tôkyô Lawn Tennis Club was all but deserted – all but one last reporter. I need to finish this while the excitement of the day is still fresh in my mind. And before a night's sleep could convince him the day had been a dream, too.

A dream and a nightmare both, probably, for her. He sighed. Sometimes he wished he hadn't let his father find him a job as a journalist. I'd like to help her . . . but I can only do it if I can stay a disinterested observer – if I can help from the sidelines.

Which took him right back to the column. It tells the basic story, I guess – but how do I end it? Well, let's take one more look from the start. He pushed a few keys on his brand-new wa-puro, and brought the cursor back up to the title and the lead.

This Morning, Every Morning

Today's Column: Tennis – The Sideline Shot

(Tôkyô) — The results are in, and it's official. Everybody loves Kyôko.

And we hardly know her yet.

Chigusa Kyôko seems to have popped up overnight, overtaking all rivals in Japanese women's tennis. Her sudden rise has prompted much speculation as to her origins – all the more so since she is so guarded about her private life, even as she is on the verge of becoming a household name.

Today was Chigusa-senshu's toughest test yet. But, as it turned out, the hardest part wasn't during the championship match. . . .

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"It's a beautiful day here at the prestigious Tôkyô Lawn Tennis Club's annual JAWS mixed-doubles tournament. All of the proceeds from today's tickets go towards finding new homes for lost or strayed animals throughout Japan." The announcer's enthusiasm turned up one more notch as his voice came clearly over the loudspeaker. "And what a wonderful turnout we have for our championship match! We are witnesses to the phenomenon that is Chigusa Kyôko. For months now, fans across Japan have come to admire this woman who seems to be unbeatable. Her record so far is untarnished. But will it remain so?"

The announcer paused for breath, the better to continue his breathless introduction. "And to add to the excitement, the luck of the draw in partners and brackets has brought us a championship face-off many had hoped for. Across the net from Chigusa-senshu today is her strongest opponent yet – Mitaka Shun. Mitaka-senshu is paired with veteran Inoue Etsuko; Chigusa-senshu's partner is Tsuchihashi Toshihisa. {fn1} But this first meeting between the two young stars should definitely be a match to remember!"

The sellout crowd was no less enthusiastic. No mere polite applause for these players as they came out of their locker rooms – actual cheers broke out. The loudest, of course, were for Chigusa-senshu . . . with a few bold voices even hollering for "Kyôko-san!" As she sat and chatted with her partner on the other side of the umpire's chair, Mitaka couldn't help but look her over.

She was reclusive . . . or as reclusive as a professional athlete could be. Other tennis players would stay after a match – in front of the cameras – and talk about their game in great detail. Kyôko would give a simple "I think it went well today, but I'm always trying to improve" – and move on. It may have been a conceited answer for anyone else in her undefeated position, but she had a way of saying it which made her seem humble and determined.

Almost from the first time he'd seen Chigusa-senshu play, Mitaka was fascinated by her. Now here I am, about to face her. He shook himself slightly. I'd better ask Etsuko how she thinks we should be playing this match. He knew Inoue-senshu well from the Tour – and the veteran was no stranger to Chigusa-senshu's game. But she'd barely managed to hold some of her own service games in either of their previous matches. The score last month had been 6-0, 6-1.

She seemed to be remembering that defeat as she stared down at the other team. I'll bet it's not Toshihisa who's got her that upset, Shun thought. But it was Tsuchihashi-senshu who noticed the glare and started a bit. Kyôko remained unaware that their female opponent was even looking their way.

Let's focus on winning this match now, Etsuko-san. "She's undefeated, not undefeatable." Mitaka said, catching his partner's attention.

"Oh! Sorry," Etsuko began. Then she added, "But that's easy for you to say – you haven't played her . . ."

"I didn't say she wasn't good, but no one's impenetrable." And Shun smiled – in the bright, disarming way so characteristic of him . . . and his family.

"Sasuga Mitaka! I swear," Etsuko chuckled, borrowing some of his confidence, "that smile should be outlawed."

"Don't worry – I've got a license for it," he assured her.

Everything about Shun was assured. It was rare that he walked onto a tennis court as anything but the favorite to win – the match and the crowds. But this seems to be one of those days. Even so, his confidence never waned. No one's impenetrable, he reminded himself. His practiced stride on to the court was sure and fearless, with a turn every few steps to wave and smile at the throng of women cheering for the handsome tennis pro.

"First to serve: Tsuchihashi-Chigusa," called out the umpire. The ballgirl ran up to Tsuchihashi – until he stopped her, then waved her on with his racket, saying: "I think everyone would like to see my partner serve first." To the interested murmurs and chuckles of the audience, the announcer almost gleefully corrected the announcement: "First to serve: Chigusa-Tsuchihashi!"

Kyôko too had been caught a little off guard by her partner's deference. But she accepted the pair of balls with thanks, then stood at the corner of the court momentarily, looking across at this player who was supposed to be her rival. So – we're facing each other right away, then.

Shun's stance was perfect: legs apart, knees slightly bent, a gentle lean towards the net with a firm, yet yielding grip on his racket. She had never played him before, so she had been looking forward to this game for months. The anticipation of playing against the top star of Japanese professional tennis had given her an extra incentive to win during this tournament.

Shun too felt the anticipation he'd had for this game come to a head. This mysterious, talented woman was his Everest: he had to overcome her. He began to wonder as Kyôko seemed to be taking her time considering her first serve. I'm not making her nervous, am I? Mitaka realized suddenly. He smiled with his trademark glint at his opponent, hoping to reassure her.

He's smiling at me? Is he that confident? Kyôko became even more determined. He won't win as easily as he thinks. With practiced ease, she gently tossed the ball into the air and sent it flying across the net, catching Mitaka leaning too far to his right. He tried to reverse his motion and reach for the ball – but it bounced neatly on the line of the service court, grazed the tip of his racket, and bounced along toward the corner of the stands.

"Fifteen-love," the umpire called out to a cheering crowd. Mitaka looked back across to Kyôko – who now had a smile of her own. Okay, not as easy as you look, he noted. But I guess I knew that. And he got quick confirmation as her next serve went to the same spot on the other side of the court – too fast and too delicately placed for Etsuko to even touch.

"Thirty-love." The call could barely be heard over the crowd – however, Mitaka heard it loud and clear. It was his turn to receive again, but he could feel his confidence returning.

Hmm – this time you're coming down the middle, right? Yes! There it was, again very well positioned . . . but this time, so was Mitaka. He got a good rip at it – a solid forehand smash, fast and low, right at Tsuchihashi – who got his racket in the way of the ball, but not solidly enough to keep it from angling into the net.

"Thirty-fifteen," The umpire announced in his unbiased, monotone voice.

That's better, Shun thought. But as he came forward to the net and exchanged satisfied and relieved smiles with Etsuko, he considered the crowd's reactions so far. Trouble.

Kyôko's fans seemed to hold their breaths simultaneously each time the ball left her racket to find its place at the other end of the court. There was an ease about her that made her seem so comfortable, so at home on the court. Kyôko might be shy and reluctant to speak in front of the cameras for the reporters . . . but she spoke loud and clear through her swings. She drew people into the game so easily. Watching Kyôko was like watching your sister play – you wanted her to win.

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No one can deny that baseball is Japan's national pastime (go Hanshin Tigers!), and tennis is often overlooked. However, attendance and ratings have nearly doubled since Chigusa-senshu has taken to the court – and the Tour obviously loves that.

Perhaps it is her graceful serve or her tireless spirit which has enthralled her fans. Or maybe it's the feeling they get watching her play . . . a feeling that she really is the same polite, demure young woman in real life as she is during a match. That she's someone they could meet in their daily lives, welcome into their homes.

Even the fact that we know so little about her leaves more room for us to imagine the rest – to imagine Chigusa Kyôko as a close friend.

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Imagine finding out the new person in my apartment building is a famous tennis player! . . . it's nice to meet you, Chigusa-senshu . . . really? I can? . . . well, that's true, we are going to be neighbors – so . . . okay, Kyôko-san . . . oh – sorry, ma'am! . . . Great. Concentrate, baka! . . . no, no, sir, I didn't mean you! . . .

These daydreams were getting worse, and it didn't help that she was the focus of all the fans' attentions. Yet, the crowd was also good, in its own way. The intensity of his devotion seemed to be masked by the fervor of the multitude of her fans. With the excitement surrounding him, he found it difficult to remain focused on his current task. Don't spill the pitcher or you'll lose another job and prove you're as unreliable as they say you are. Still, he felt his eyes moving on their own, I feel like she needs me to watch her. Ganbatte, Chigusa-senshu...

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"Game, Tsuchihashi-Chigusa." "Chigusa-Tsuchihashi!" someone yelled from the cheap seats, and the rest of the audience laughed. But the umpire went on, unfazed. "They win the first set, six games to two." The stands, however, exploded in cheers. All that for one set? thought Shun as the teams switched ends. He snuck a quick glance at Kyôko-san as they passed each other. Huh – she seems unsettled, too.

Kyôko caught herself thinking about the intensity of the applause, and frowned to herself. Maybe my nerves are getting to me. As she settled in at the baseline to start the second set, she looked across the net again. Mitaka seemed as poised as ever. How does he do that? Maybe I should take a lesson from him on it. She tried to concentrate on the next serve, but the toss and her swing were both way out of her normal rhythm, and she knew the ball was heading wide. In fact, it passed her partner on the wrong side, hit the post at the end of the net, and took a crazy bounce back in her general direction.

Toshihisa had spun around in an effort to track the errant serve, and ended up facing her. "Chigusa-senshu?" he called, loud enough to pull Kyôko from her thoughts.

"Hai!" Kyôko barked back a reply. She sounded much harsher than she had meant to, surprising herself as well as her partner. She refocused, and whacked the loose ball off the court with a hard backhand swipe.

"Ha-ha-ha, anyone else think that backslap was meant for Toshihisa?" the announcer called out suddenly. Scattered snickers among the crowd went unnoticed by the players as the second serve led into a long volley. Finally, Mitaka caught the ball for a perfect return, driving it past both defenders.

"Love-fifteen," the umpire announced, much to the dismay of Kyôko's fans.

"You okay?" Toshihisa called out, just loud enough for Kyôko to hear.

"Yes, thank you." Kyôko steadied her resolve as she took the ball to serve again. I'm not giving them another point. She deftly aimed the ball for an open point at the far right. When it left the racket, it looked like it couldn't possibly be in . . . but her special skill with spin and touch placed the serve right on the line again – unreachably far up the line – where it hit the ground twice and almost three times before anybody could reach it.

"Fifteen-all." And the crowd jumped up in unison. This is something I should be used to by now, Kyôko thought, getting through the ovation with a smile to her fans and a small wave.

Mitaka marveled at the woman across the court. He'd seen her on TV on several occasions, pulling off great shots like this – and he'd heard the ovations she got – but he'd never seen how she reacted before. After all this time, she still seemed a bit uncomfortable with it all.

Not that it's slowing her down much. . . .

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And so begins this alternate Rumic World, one where Kyôko never married, but pursued a career in tennis. She is quite adept at the sport, but how will she fare off the court? Read on to discover how far she'll go by the end of our story – and who'll be there with her. And please write a review to let us know how our story compares to Takahashi-sensei's original – though we are both aware it could never come close to hers.

{fn1} – Inoue Etsuko and Tsuchihashi Toshihisa are names of actual Japanese professional tennis players from the 1980s, the time when Maison Ikkoku was set.