Of Baits and Sunsets
a Sanada birthday fic
Nature bestowed a warm cheery day in late May with the sun a bright orb glowing blazing rays in the azure sky and the clouds a gorgeous field of white cotton. At Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku, it would not be an exaggeration to say that the students were outside enjoying the charming weather to their hearts' content. Nonetheless, everything in life had an exception, and that exception on that perfect May day was Sanada Genichirou.
There was a reason why Sanada despised the twenty-first of May, and the boys' tennis team knew exactly why. In spite of this (or perhaps, and more likely, because of it), the regular members of Rikkai's team of elite tennis players tried their very best to irk their fukubuchou to unending frustration, unspeakable exasperation, unlimited insanity, and the like.
In short, it was Sanada's birthday. Although he had indulged no one of this fact, somehow, somewhere, someone had revealed the holy fact. Sanada had always suspected Yanagi or perhaps even Yukimura with his suspiciously innocent smile. And so, for three years straight, the poor fukibuchou had to withstand the knowing smirks and lavish gifts of his fellow teammates.
After a particularly intense tennis practice that day of snapping at Akaya precisely fifty-four times for making birthday comments out of line and growling at Niou for attempting to pull pranks on him eleven times (Yanagi had kept count for both), Sanada walked wearily out of the locker room in the early hours of evening to return home. The strap of his tennis bag dug into his shoulder, since it carried not only his usual tennis rackets but also an enormous pack of assorted-flavored bubblegum from Marui and a plethora of strange, suspicious items from the other teammates that Sanada did not bother to identify or name.
Curse them all.
Still grumbling under his ubiquitous cap, Sanada ignored the leaden feeling, exacerbated by his especially heavy bag, that had thickened in his limbs. In his mind, there was nothing more refreshing than a few nice sweeps of straw-people with his blade. As he reveled in his mental concoctions of slashing thick chunks of dry grass, Sanada did not notice the figure clad in the Fudoumine uniform on the bridge until he had stepped onto the wooden structure.
Blinking in surprise at the girl, he lost his stern façade for a brief moment before quickly putting it back in place.
In the flurry of the day, he had forgotten the Fudoumine girls' tennis team had come to practice with that of Rikkai's.
"Ah, hello, Sanada-san," she greeted him, smiling and turning her head.
"Tachibana-san," he said simply.
After a brief pause, Sanada realized that she was staring at him strangely. Belatedly, he remembered the streamers that Akaya had exploded in the locker room. With another stab of annoyance, he hastily removed the colorful paper streaks sticking persistently on his cap and bag and tossed them aside.
"It was my birthday," he said dryly as a sort of explanation.
Was. The past tense. Meaning Sanada no longer considered the moment to be part of his birthday.
"I see."
Another pause. Still leaning against the railing of the bridge, she returned her gaze to the glowing sunset in the distance.
"You know, Sanada-san," she spoke with a slight frown gracing her fine features, "we've known each other for a while, and yet you still call me so formally. Just call me Ann-chan. Isn't it much shorter than 'Tachibana-san?'"
Ignoring her question and deciding not to point out that she herself added the same honorific to his name, the said boy stepped up to the railing next to the girl and spared the setting sun a glance. With a sense of awe that he never would have admitted to having experienced, Sanada thought the fiery scenery was… beautiful.
"It's nice, isn't it," Ann murmured as though she had read his thoughts.
He chose to remain silent.
"Sanada-san, have you ever dreamed of something other than tennis?"
Caught by surprise for the second time of the day, he was at a loss for words and merely looked at her stoically.
Ann raised an arm against the scarlet sun. Reflecting the rosy light, her violet eyes shimmered with a sort of fierce hope for the future while her hand clasped around the luminous orb of light. Suddenly, Sanada saw her on the rough greenery of the tennis courts, swiftly dashing across the white lines to return the yellow balls with her racket grasped in her hand, her roan-colored hair quivering in the wake of her flight.
For a wild moment devoid of all his earlier woes, Sanada thought, inexplicably, that he was half in love with Tachibana Ann of the Fudoumine girls' tennis team.
Scoffing inwardly, Sanada took his elbows off the cold railing and turned away from the mesmerizing sunset. All the physical soreness and memories of a pestering Akaya poured back into his mind, and he sighed softly at the burdens of reality.
Such as aging one more year and receiving irritating "gifts."
"I'll be going now, Tachibana-san," Sanada muttered to mid-air, though he was directing his statement to the girl.
An abrupt movement out of the corner of his eye stopped him, and her voice calling his name made him face her. In the same even, swift movement, An raised herself on her toes and pecked a quick kiss on his left cheek.
"Happy birthday, Sanada-san," she whispered.
Then she picked up her tennis bag, which had been sitting at her feet, and trotted off with one last grin at him.
Frozen to the spot, Sanada could only stare at her retreating back. His heart pounded almost painfully and loudly against his ribs as a swooping sensation filled his midriff, infusing his entire being in this lovely strange bliss. The usually sharp fukubuchou even missed the twinkle of lens, hastily muffled sniggers, and the tufts of hair of six or so people sticking out from the tops of nearby bushes. He would later claim to have heard a certain curly-haired second year muttering, "This will be brilliant blackmail, won't it, Niou-senpai?" and a returning chuckle ending with a smooth "Puri."
Although he was unaware of these spies and of the future weeks—no, months—of the embarrassment of being caught in that one moment, Sanada faced the glorious sunset. Gazing at the golden sea as Ann had done, he allowed the light to tenderly bath his face and hide the merest hint of a blush on his face.
Perhaps birthdays were not that bad, after all.
A/N: Happy birthday, Sanada! Pardon the excessive fluff. SanadaxAnn is a random pairing that I picked up on while reading PoT fics.
Prince of Tennis (c) Konomi Takeshi