Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to the wonderful Konomi Takeshi, not me.
Unrequited Love for Dummies
Feel the rhythm.
Feel the speed, the burn of the adrenaline, the certainty that you can run and run and run, farther and faster than anyone else. Feel the fury, no longer just hitting the ball, now you are smashing it, crushing it, slamming it against the wall again and again and again. Feel the loss, every ragged hitch and rattle of breath ripped from your chest. It hurts. God, it hurts. Feel the emptiness, the numbness in your mind as the words—her words— play over and over, the horrible realization of her rejection settling into your stomach, turning your insides to ice.
Feel the pain.
There was only one bench by the court and it was already occupied.
Akira didn't care.
Sweaty and still breathing heavily, he plopped down without ceremony. The other person on the bench shifted slightly away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, Akira caught a glimpse of long, dark hair.
Oh, boy.
He knew her by face very well; there weren't many fifteen-year-old girls with hip-long braids. Personally however, he barely knew her at all. It wasn't that she was mean or uninteresting, she was just so quiet.
She was the granddaughter of the famed and formidable Ryuuzaki Sumire and a student at Seishun High. The only other thing he knew about her was her massive crush on Echizen Ryoma, who, according to popular rumor, had never reciprocated in kind. Ever.
Wow, that sounded familiar.
Akira scowled up at the summer sky and wished he had enough energy left to kick something.
Ryuuzaki Sakuno—that was her name right?—sighed, a lonely little sound, and didn't speak. Akira was grateful. He didn't feel much like chatting now, not after—well, he just didn't feel like it.
He slumped into the back of the bench, his head lolling. The wood was cool and smooth, a welcome relief against his fevered skin. His muscles ached and burned, almost enough to distract him from the stupid nagging pain in his chest.
"She said no." He spoke abrubtly, his voice flat and tired-sounding. Akira huffed a bitter not-quite laugh. "Again."
He saw a flicker of movement to his left. Sakuno nodded, red-rimmed eyes staring blankly ahead.
"He said I was annoying," she said softly, her voice thin and papery. "Then he ignored me." Her mouth twisted in a sad half-smile. "Again."
Akira breathed out another non-laugh. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging lifelessly from his wrists as he stared into the dirt. Next to him, Sakuno fiddled with the end of a long braid as she gazed at the now empty court, her eyes distant.
Heat waves rippled and shimmered on the court asphalt as the sun beat down. The branches of the trees shading the bench trembled, the barest of breezes sending their leaves quivering. The air was heavy with the mournful whine of the cicadas and the drone of fat summer flies. One of the flies buzzed towards Akira, swooping around his head in loopy, drunken circles before coming to a rest on his nose. He swatted it away irritably and sat up, his eyes narrowed.
"This…sucks."
After so long a silence, Sakuno started at the sound of his voice. She smiled slightly, and her gaze turned down to her lap as she spoke.
"Yeah." Her voice was soft, her mouth rueful and a little wistful, and her eyes were very, very sad.
Akira frowned.
"Echizen's an idiot," he said shortly. Sakuno smile widened, a little more genuine.
"I-I'm sure Ann-san will come around eventually," she said quietly, not looking at him.
Akira started.
"It was that obvious huh?" he said with an empty grin, trying to laugh it off but in truth a bit irritated.
"No." The word was barely a sigh. "Just familiar."
Silence again. Sakuno just continued to gaze blankly ahead, her brow furrowed slightly in negative nostalgia. Akira tried to return his mind to the all-consuming numbness of earlier, but found he couldn't. The closest he could get was a restless boredom. Suddenly impatient, he felt the itch, to move, to speak, anything.
"We should write a book," he said unexpectedly, his tone conversational. Quickly, Sakuno turned her head to look at him, grateful for the distraction. "Unrequited Love for Dummies."
Sakuno's eyebrows raised as she stared at him in confusion, puzzled by the direction their dark, awkward exchange had taken.
"Rule number one:" began Akira, mock-lecturing, "Keep your feelings as secret as possible. Tell no one about them, especially family, friends and," his eyes narrowed slightly, remembering a certain long-haired Fudomine mutterer, "teammates who like to talk."
Sakuno made the connection. Her dark eyes brightened for the first time since their meeting as she politely hid her smile behind a hand. Encouraged, Akira continued.
"Rule number two: Learn about the object of your affections, what they like, what they hate, everything from their favorite color to their preferred flavor of toothpaste. Remember, it's not stalking if you're in love. Restraining orders just mean they're playing hard to get."
Sakuno giggled softly. Before Akira could start in on Rule three, she spoke.
"Rule number three: Always save anything they've touched," she offered shyly. Akira grinned.
"Like borrowed pencils." Sakuno smiled.
"Old test notes," she added, her voice growing louder.
"Spare gym clothes," Akira suggested, still grinning.
"Used tennis equipment," she shot back.
"Used Kleenex!"
"Hamburger wrappers!"
"Hair clips!"
"Actual hair!"
And then they were laughing: Sakuno bent over double in fits of giggles, Akira slumped against the back of the bench, laughing so hard his face hurt. It wasn't really that funny, but that didn't matter. It was a release, and it felt good. Once the laughter had subsided, Akira turned to look at his companion.
Her face was tear-stained, and her braids were frizzy, but her eyes--although a bit puffy--were bright. They shone, a dark rich amber, amplifying the last of the laughter still caught in her smile.
For a moment, even though he was in love with Ann—hopelessly, helplessly, head-over-heels in love, and he knew she was the same with Echizen—he couldn't help but wish he were in love with her instead.
It wasn't possible. It was stupid, crazy, futile even.
But.
With one hand he reached down into his pocket. The other began to tap his knee, fingers drumming faster, faster.
But…maybe.
He drew his hand back out of his pocket, now clutching his life. His lovely, lovely iPod, appropriately colored in the Fudomine black and silver, the source of all rhythm.
Akira's foot started tapping to an imaginary beat, his breathing quickening.
"Hey. Ryuuzaki-san." Sakuno glanced over, her curious eyes flitting from his face to the small ear bud he held out to her.
"Wanna listen?" His voice was cavalier, carefully hiding the importance of the question as his outstretched hand asked a question all its own. He waited, suddenly anxious as she paused, pondering. Finally, she smiled tentatively.
"Alright."
Carefully she took the offered ear bud with another small smile, blushing a little. The corner of Akira's mouth curled up.
Feel the rhythm.