Title: Returning the Favor
Author: Freya
Pairing: Sakuno/Ryoma
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The PoT is not mine.
Summary: Sakuno finds a new dream to pursue, and Ryoma stands behind her.
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When Sakuno entered her second year of middle school, she signed up for chorus.
The decision to do so was fueled by a day of channel hopping. When Wimbledon hit a commercial, Sakuno would flip through the channels. It was just to find something that could hold her interest for more than ten seconds before the commercials were over. However, the cooking channel was also at a commercial. The anime network had nothing good on. Not even the weather channel had an emergency heat wave, or typhoon to report. It was just same old, same old. She was tempted just to lag through Wimbledon's commercials, until, just a channel before it, she ran into the music network.
It wasn't the same old j-pop, or whatever they played there. This was a history on music, and some of the most beautiful music she had ever heard from old and dead songs began to fill the room. The singing was amazing. It tugged at her heart and sucked her right in without mercy, and before she knew it, she'd dropped the remote control on the floor.
She sat for awhile and listened to one artist after another perform. She was in such a daze she didn't even remember that Wimbledon had long since come back on, until the phone in the other room rang. It was Tomoka.
"Did you see Nadal score, Sakuno! Wasn't it awesome?"
Before Sakuno could say anything, Tomo sighed a dreamy sigh and said, "One day, our Ryoma-sama is going to be where he is!"
"A-aa," Sakuno stuttered.
She didn't have the heart to tell Tomoka that she hadn't been watching the match for the last hour.
---
"Chorus? Are you any good?" asked a dubious Tomoka on their way to the office. Sakuno had to pass in her permission form.
"I won't know until I try," Sakuno responded with a small blush. That was a good question, though. She'd never tried anything like this before. She had no clue if she'd be any good. But with a little bit of practice, who was to say she couldn't get better? Tokyo wasn't built in a day, after all.
And practice she did! The chorus only met twice a week, so she was able to fit the lessons in between tennis practice. However, she found herself much more engrossed in her own voice as time went by. Sensei pulled her aside a few times to compliment her voice especially, and gave her small tips on how to make it that much better.
"Close your eyes and imagine you're on stage in front of thousands. Neighbors, friends, family, idols. Picture the cheers and the spotlight in your head and let go. Once you can sing perfectly in front of everyone, you will be all set."
It was hard to do. She practiced the basic vocals in front of Tomoka, whose only criticism was her friend's lack confidence in herself. Sakuno was damn good, and only got better as she practiced more. The basics soon became simple songs that even a five year old could pull off. But it was soon said that Ryuzaki Sakuno could even make that silly song about the ducks sound like a love story. Needless to say, all the attention her voice brought embarrassed her, but deep down, she was delighted. It was nice to be good at something.
That simple delight turned into the most grueling decision of her life the next time sensei approached her.
"The fall concert is in two months. I'd appreciate it if you came by every day for practice from now on, Ryuzaki-san."
Every day, which meant no more tennis.
She asked her sensei to give her a few days to consider it, and a few days were granted.
They were the longest few days of her life, though.
It was only second year. She hadn't expected her interest in tennis to dwindle so much, but it did. It didn't take long for her to realize that this was not where she wanted to be. Not right on the court, anyway. The best part about tennis was watching Ryoma and the others play during tournaments, she realized. She had only improved enough to get the ball over the net more than once, really. Her captain stopped complimenting her on her form a long time ago, and she wasn't really friends with any of her team mates. At least, not the way Ryoma and his senpai-tachi were. Their friendship ran so deep, her grandma joked about them being Seigaku's first nakama. (1) It was the opposite for her and her team, though. She barely saw any of these girls outside of practice.
Maybe... maybe she should just quit the team. There was no point in pushing a dream she could never have, when she had better things going for her.
At least, that's what she thought, until sunset of day three came around.
She sat under a tree, staring down at her tennis racket with a morose expression. Practice had ended over an hour ago. Tomorrow, she'd be putting this away forever. She had another dream to pursue. But... all the memories a simple racket could hold overwhelmed her. She remembered the first time Ryoma took her to see the stringer. She remembered the first time Ryoma told her her hair was too long. She remembered the first time Momoshiro teased her about her crush on Ryoma. She remembered every match, from the the Prefectuals to the Nationals, that Ryoma participated in. She remembered... gosh. What didn't she remember?
Tennis belonged to them, however, and she belonged on the sidelines. She belonged on the outside of their world, looking in. All she was good at was standing off to the side and providing whatever meager little support she could possibly give. Support, that was often drowned out by Tomoka's voice, but nonetheless, support. It's all she had left to offer.
She could now hold Seigaku in her heart through song.
When specks of starlight began to peak through the orange sky, Sakuno held her racket to her lips like a microphone and began to sing. It was a song she wrote and practiced for herself. It was a song about Seigaku. Her eyes drifted shut, and she could see them all. It was the fall concert, and there they were, cheering her on. The team stood at the head of a large crowd. She could see Kawamura cheer at the top of his lungs with a racket in hand. She could see the Golden Pair with one arm slung around the other, and one fist each thrust into the air as they brought forth simultaneous cheers. She could see Tezuka smiling. She could see Fuji nodding in approval. She could see Kaidoh and Momoshiro battling to see who could cheer louder. She could see Inui content to listen without scribbling anything in his green notebook. And most of all, she could see Ryoma...
Ryoma had "mada mada dane" written all over his face. So much so, she could almost hear him say it.
Only, she did hear him say it, and her eyes shot open with horror.
"R-Ryoma-kun!"
She clutched her heart when the tennis genius filled her line of vision. He had a grape Ponta perched in one hand and a racket in the other. He also had a smirk on his face.
"Your English needs work."
"I... " her eyes darted from here, to there, and that, to this, and where, oh where, and eventually froze to the ground. No one was even supposed to be here. Why did Ryoma of all people have to catch her like this? This was more embarrassing than the time she wet herself during class in the early years of grade school.
Ryoma sighed into his Ponta can. Why was this girl always so weird about criticism?
Sakuno eventually pried her eyes away from the ground to find him still standing in front of her, frowning.
Sakuno let out a sullen sigh and slipped her racket into her bag. Nothing she did could ever make that boy happy.
"I'm... quitting tennis, you know," she struggled to say, as if she wasn't so sure she could. She had been absolutely certain of it awhile ago. She'd still cheer on Seigaku's team without question, but playing tennis wasn't really her thing. Tennis was just something to do for fun, and now that chorus had become more fun, she was done with tennis. She slid her bag's zipper shut for what felt like the last time, and gave Ryoma a sad smile. "I've found another dream."
He didn't know what to say, so he just drained the last of his soda and tossed it into the waste bin. Well, her newest dream didn't sound like one she'd need to cut her hair for, at least. Still, a life without tennis? He couldn't imagine what that must be like.
"A new dream?" Ryoma said. "Che."
"What?" Sakuno slung her bag over her shoulder and glared at the boy. Her face curled into a frown, which lasted all of five seconds before her eyes sunk in defeat. "You don't think I can do it... "
"Not with that attitude," he deadpanned.
Sakuno's eyes shot from defeated to slightly irritated, and her frown was back. Her attitude wasn't the problem here! "Why don't you just tell me you hate my voice already?'
Flinch. Blink. What?
She grabbed a hold of herself right away and apologized for her rude outburst, but Ryoma pretended he didn't hear it. He adjusted the strap of his bag against his shoulder and continued to look confused.
"I didn't say I hated your voice," he muttered. "I just said that your English needs work."
"Ah-" She blushed, and her eyes became acquainted with the ground once more. "Mou-"
Ryoma closed his eyes and crouched to the ground, sliding his bag off his shoulder as he did so. He instructed the long-haired girl to sit as he rummaged through his bag. From it, he pulled out his favorite racket with the red frame and handed it to her. He also pulled another can of Ponta and zipped the bag shut, then shifted into a comfortable sitting position.
"Sing."
"I- what?"
"Do it."
He opened his can and took a sip, patiently waiting for a song to pour forth. The night had finally fallen, and it was only the two of them. She had no reason to be embarrassed, really.
She had always stuck with him through his dreams; it was only fair that he did the same for her.
After what felt like an eternity, Sakuno started to sing, nervous at first, but her voice really began to pick up when the corners of his lips threatened to curl into a smile. He sat and listened to every word of it.
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1) Nakama -- A Japanese word that has no direct or literal translation in English. What it means specifically is friends who are closer than family.
A/N: Comments? Con crit? LAWL FLAMEZ? Freya demands your attention! (Well, not really, but it'd sure be nice.)
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