Of Funerals, Yellow Dresses and Stolen Kisses
Summary: They had met under a highly untimely circumstance.
Pairing: RyoSak
Warning(s): This is an AU fic. There will be character death and age-differences. Oh, and there's also a lovesick Ryoma.
I hope you enjoy reading this. This is personally one of my favorites. :)
It was a bright, hot summer day in Tokyo, but the atmosphere in the Ryuzaki household was dark, cold and gloomy. From different directions, people dressed in all-black swarmed to the doorstep, bowing their heads in half-greeting, half-apology as they crossed the threshold in silent steps and hushed voices. The air inside the house smelled strongly of burnt incense and fragrant flowers. The halls were filled with the same black-dressed people, conversing in low voices while holding plastic cups of orange juice served to everyone who came to visit.
A relatively tall, tanned man, dressed in a similar fashion as the other guests, stopped before the front gate, which was decorated with two large garlands of flowers propped up by wooden stands. As he entered the front yard, he removed the battered white Fila cap off his head, revealing dark-green hair that shone against the bright sunlight and a pair of striking golden-brown eyes. The people lingering by the door had momentarily stopped from their private conversations and stared fixatedly at the new arrival, an awed expression etched on their faces. Some even openly ogled and pointed at his direction, whispering his name loudly to their companions.
After all, the appearance of the twenty-three-year-old, five-time Grand Slam Champion Ryoma Echizen, Japan's newest hero, in a Tokyo suburb unaccompanied by his usual managerial team and trail of Paparazzi was a very rare occurrence. It was only the gravity of the current situation that had prevented the guests from making a fuss out of the fact that they were being graced by the presence of a sports celebrity.
Ryoma Echizen quietly entered the house with a small bow, removing his tennis shoes and slipping into one of the guest house slippers offered at the shoe rack. More people paused and gaped as he traversed the hallway, and the young woman who offered him a drink – whom he politely declined with a curt shake of his head – almost fainted in shock upon recognizing him. With a harried and blushing face, she turned around and darted off in the speed of light, most probably to notify the host of his arrival.
He followed the direction where she took off and was immediately greeted by two men by the entrance to the living area. These men were Ryoma's former teammates in his middle school tennis team, which had won the National Junior Tournament in all three years of his residence as a member.
As he exchanged small pleasantries with Syuiichiroh Oishi and Kikumaru Eiji, hearing an elaborated tale on Oishi's upcoming graduation from medical school and the recently concluded European tour of Eiji's performing group, his eyes fell on someone from the other side of the room.
She was a young woman – probably around the same age as him – sitting on the tatami floor surrounded by a cluster of guests. The first thing that Ryoma noticed about her was her long auburn hair, tied in a low pony tail, with a few short strands managing to escape the band and cover a part of her face. The simple black dress she wore revealed much of her thin body and contrasted starkly with her papery-white skin. There were dark circles under her brown eyes, which looked red from crying and lack of sleep. Her pale lips barely moved as she said something to an elderly man beside her.
"Who's that?" Ryoma asked before he could stop himself, interrupting Eiji mid-sentence.
Oishi followed Ryoma's line of vision. "Ah," he said, suddenly reverting back to his forlorn mood. "That's Ryuzaki-sensei's granddaughter, Sakuno. You never had the chance to meet her, since you already left for America by the time we got introduced. Ryuzaki-sensei took her in when both of her parents died six years ago." He shook his head sympathetically. "Now that even Ryuzaki-sensei is gone, she's completely all by herself. I feel so sorry for her."
"Sakuno-chan's really nice to us tennis club members, you know," Eiji added earnestly. "She's the world's greatest baker! We all treat her like a little sister. She was like your substitute, Ochibi!"
"Will you stop calling me that?" Ryoma said tiredly. "I'm twenty-three years old. I'm not a kid anymore."
"Ochibi will always be Ochibi regardless of age, nya!"
Rolling his eyes at his teammate's antics, Ryoma quietly excused himself from the two and sat in front of the large black-and-white portrait placed in the northern side of the room. A large framed photograph of his former tennis coach, Ryuzaki Sumire, stared back at him with her trademark playful smile, surrounded by countless garlands of flowers and lit-up incense offered by her friends and loved ones. Now, he wouldn't be able to see the live counterpart of that smile anymore. The old woman had always been close to the Echizen family, especially to Ryoma's father, who had been her star student back in her younger years as Seigaku's resident coach.
After taking a deep breath, Ryoma closed his eyes and bowed deeply to Ryuzaki-sensei's portrait, the tip of his nose lightly touching the floor. He – and his father, the tennis legend Samurai Nanjiroh, before him – owed the old woman a significant part of his success in the tennis circuit. Although the news of her passing away was a sad one, it did not really come as a surprise to Ryoma anymore; Sumire was way past her prime, and already had a history of heart failures for the past few years.
Ryoma had received a phone call from Nanjiroh (who was based in Japan) shortly after he'd won his second Wimbledon Grand Slam, informing him of the grave news. That was how he found himself back in his Motherland in less than three days, having cancelled all of his appointments for the week to pay his final respect to the greatest tennis coach he had next to his own father. Ryoma's manager had been hysterical regarding the matter, left in America to make amendments to Ryoma's sudden leave.
Just as he straightened back up and opened his eyes once again, a shadow loomed over him, bringing him back to his senses and making him look up distractedly.
"Ryoma Echizen?" It was Ryuzaki-sensei's granddaughter. What was her name again? Ah right, Sakuno. In a fluid movement, she sat on her knees beside him and nodded at him in greeting. "I'm Sakuno Ryuzaki. Thank you for coming to my Obaa-chan's wake."
Ryoma returned her greeting by reaching out a tanned hand. "I came here as fast as I could. I extend my condolences, Sakuno."
Sakuno's pale lips curled up in a sad smile as she shook his offered hand. "It's such a shame for us to meet at a time like this." She paused at that, and she looked as if she was about to cry.
Ryoma, never the social type, was momentarily at a loss for words. "Ryuzaki-sensei," he said, thinking fast of what to say, "was a good coach. If not for her, my father wouldn't have his breakthrough in professional tennis. I wouldn't be what I am today."
At that, Sakuno turned away from him to stare at Sumire's portrait, a distant look in her brown eyes. Upon closer inspection, Ryoma vaguely noted that she had inherited some of her grandmother's features—the better ones, he added as an afterthought.
It must have been at least one minute before she spoke again.
"She always talked about you."
Ryoma's lips curled up in a small smile, his gaze gravitating back to the portrait of his former coach. "I hope only about the good things," he said lightly.
To his mild surprise, Sakuno giggled lightly. "I can't assure you that."
Ryoma ran a hand through his hair in mock annoyance. "I should've known," he deadpanned, earning another chuckle from her.
"She always told me that she reminded you so much of your father," she supplied with a smile that actually reached her eyes.
"She knew I hated hearing that the most."
"Her stories were funny and would send me laughing." She tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind ear. "But most of all, she always told me that she felt proud for having raised you to become a good tennis player."
Ryoma found himself looking back at her and absently staring at an exposed part of her neck. "I'm glad that I made her feel that way," he said, nevertheless.
She tilted her head to the side to regard him good-naturedly. "I'm glad that you have made her feel accomplished as a coach, Echizen-san. Thank you," she said sincerely.
For a moment, her tired-looking face, smiling genuinely at him, compelled him to smile back. He caught himself just in time, however, and resorted to looking away from her scrutinizing gaze.
Oishi and Eiji chose that moment to appear at Ryoma's side, unknowingly saving him from an increasingly awkward moment.
"I see you've met our tennis superstar, Sakuno-chan!" Eiji said cheerfully, sitting beside Ryoma and resting an arm on the younger man's shoulders. "I hope he isn't scaring you with his glare."
"On the contrary," Sakuno said, sending Ryoma a knowing smile, "I find Echizen-san nice."
Eiji pretended to look shocked. "No way! He didn't snarl at you?"
Ryoma glared at his hyperactive upperclassman. "Stop it, Eiji-senpai."
"See, he's doing it now!"
Sakuno chuckled once more, before she was distracted by the arrival of the woman who Ryoma recognized as the one who had offered him a complimentary drink at the hallway earlier.
"Oh, it's Tomo-chan!" Eiji greeted energetically.
'Tomo-chan' stopped short beside Oishi and stared unabashedly at Ryoma's form on the floor. "Are you Ryoma Echizen?" she asked, her eyes wide and sparkling.
Ryoma exchanged brief glances with Sakuno before replying, "Yes."
"I knew it," she breathed. "I'm Tomoka Osakada. I'm Sakuno's best friend, and your biggest fan."
Ryoma blinked at her. "Oh, thanks," he said, mainly for the sake of responding.
Tomoka looked like she was still about to say something, but steeled herself the last minute and instead turned to Sakuno. "Sakuno-chan, we've run out of some ingredients for the soup we'll be serving for dinner."
"Oh my," Sakuno said worriedly, her brows forming a furrow in her forehead. "We better go and buy some, then." She quickly stood and dusted off her dress. "Please make yourself comfortable," she said to Ryoma. "I'll have to excuse myself for a moment."
"Are you going shopping?" Eiji asked excitedly. "Let me come along!"
"Alright, but we have to be real quick, Eiji-senpai, so no stopping in other shops!" Tomoka said firmly.
"Hoi, hoi!"
With that, Sakuno, Tomoka and Eiji left, leaving Ryoma alone in the company of Oishi.
"I have to go," Ryoma announced, unceremoniously getting onto his feet. "I promised my manager that I'll get in touch with him as soon as I can."
Oishi smiled understandingly. "Being a celebrity must be tough."
Ryoma snorted ungracefully. "Celebrity, yeah right," he sneered.
The two exited the living room and walked along the hallway towards the front door, still keenly followed by several pairs of eyes and faint murmurs. As Ryoma bent down to tie his shoe laces, Oishi stood by the door, watching him with a contemplative look on his face.
"Echizen, can I ask you something?" he suddenly said.
Ryoma didn't look up. "What is it?" he said, still concentrated on his shoes.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
That made the young green-haired man pause to look at Oishi as if the latter had just grown two heads. "What?"
"You heard me," the former vice-captain said with a smile.
Ryoma got onto his feet and regarded him confusedly. "No. That's a very weird question from you, Oishi-senpai." He could expect that kind of badgering from the likes of Eiji or Momoshiro, who had always been hell-bent on making fun of him, but from Oishi? He was one of the most reserved people that Ryoma had ever known.
"It's just that I couldn't help but think earlier," the older man said, a bit shyly, "that you and Sakuno-san looked really good together back there."
Ryoma frowned at him heavily. "Are you a matchmaker now or something?" he said sarcastically.
Oishi gave out an amused chuckle. "Just so you know," he said, holding the front door open for Ryoma, "it's the first time since Ryuzaki-sensei passed away that I saw her smile like that."
"Like what?"
"Like she meant it."
Ryoma didn't know what to say at that. "Mada mada dane," he muttered under his breath, stepping out into the sun and placing his white cap back on his head. "Tell me if you guys will hang out or something. I'll be in Tokyo until the weekend."
"Alright," Oishi said with a nod. "See you around, Echizen."
"See you."
As he walked past the gates, a mental image of Sakuno Ryuzaki came into his mind. If he looked at it objectively, she did have her own brand of beauty, one that was not striking at first glance. Her face was kind and heart-shaped, and her voice was soft and pleasant to the ears. That, and the fact that she pretty much acted normally around him, unlike most women who either gaped or tried to hit on him in ways he didn't even want to think of.
But a girlfriend? It wasn't as if Ryoma didn't have enough on his plate without a girl to make his life more complicated than it already was. Besides, he felt that there was something morbidly wrong with checking Sakuno out during her own grandmother's wake. All the stress from med school and the summer heat must have finally gone to Oishi's head.
But then, he had to admit, Sakuno Ryuzaki's smile was strangely contagious and hard to forget.
Two days later, Nanjiroh Echizen entered the dining room in his usual monk robes and dropped two white envelopes on the table right in front of his son, who was concentrated on his solitary breakfast.
"Watch it, old man," Ryoma said crossly, lifting his bowl of miso soup just in time to save it from being toppled over. "What's this?" He regarded the envelopes suspiciously, knowing full well that anything that came from his father couldn't be any good.
"They're tickets to a tennis summit downtown," Nanjiroh said, opening the fridge and poking his head into it. "It's tomorrow. You're going."
Ryoma's answer was quick. "No."
His father pulled out a can of Ponta – a family novelty – and closed the refrigerator with his foot. "I don't remember asking your opinion," he said casually, pulling the lid open and taking a huge gulp from his soda. "Anyway, you won't have to participate. You just have to be there for show."
"I'm not going," Ryoma said firmly, going back to eating his half-cold soup of a breakfast.
Nanjiroh took the seat across from him. "I already told the organizers that you will," he said matter-of-factly, making the younger Echizen choke on his food. "Just imagine the bad publicity it will give you if you decide not to show up after all the preparations they did for your accommodation—"
"What is wrong with you?" Ryoma said crossly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "My stay here in Japan is supposed to be a secret!"
His father only grinned at him. "Too late. Now get your ass moving and find yourself a date."
Ryoma openly glared at him, tempted to throw his bowl at the older man's face. "A date?" he spat. "What the hell do you mean, old man?"
Nanjiroh rolled his eyes painfully. "Are you blind?" He pointed at the envelopes. "Can't you see that there are two tickets? They're supposed to be for me and the old hag, but seeing the turn of events…"
At that, Ryoma noticed that visible change in Nanjiroh's demeanor. Even if he did a good job at acting like his normal self for the past few days, it was obvious that Sumire Ryuzaki's death had taken a toll on the senior Echizen, as the old woman had more or less been a mother figure to him. To cover up for this moment of vulnerability, Nanjiroh had been more erratic than usual, but notably didn't get out of the house as long as he could help it.
"Anyway," Ryoma's father continued with a scoff. "Those tickets also serve as VIP passes for a cocktail party that will be held by the end of the day, so unless you want to suffer alone in a sea of people you don't know, I'd suggest you tag along a pretty woman—or man, if you swing that way—with you."
Ryoma could already feel an impending headache. He knew right from the start that he wouldn't be able to do anything once his father's mind was set onto something. His appetite gone and his initial plan of spending the day with Karupin under his bed covers entirely ruined, he stood from his chair and went back to his bedroom. His manager would be royally pissed once he realized that word got out of Ryoma's sighting in Japan…
But the more pressing problem was how to survive tomorrow's unfortunate event.
Date my ass, he inwardly seethed, dropping facedown on his bed the moment he reached his room. Immediately, a fat old Himalayan cat emerged from underneath the bedside table and jumped on the bed, curling himself snugly against Ryoma and purring loudly for his master's attention. However, said master was preoccupied with troubled thoughts, mainly revolving around that cumbersome party.
Begrudgingly, Ryoma's father was right; going alone would definitely make him look stupid. He briefly wondered if he should ask his cousin Nanako, before remembering that she was already seven months pregnant and on bed rest.
Then the answer came to him easily. In fact, it had been there right when the problem was raised, only that he didn't openly acknowledge its possibility as long as he had the choice. But desperate times called for desperate measures. And it was just a stupid tennis summit, anyway.
With a great sigh and a heavy heart, Ryoma forced himself up and prepared for what could be a long, stressful day.
In fear of attracting unwanted attention, Ryoma had chosen to wear his most inconspicuous set of clothes, which included a plain white polo shirt, worn-out cargo shorts and a pair of battered old sneakers. Pulling his cap lower so as to cover his face, he walked along the familiar road to the Ryuzakis' residence. For a moment, he considered ditching the whole ordeal and braving the party alone, but considering the possibilities of being pestered by strangers, going out with somebody he could pretend to be busy with didn't seem to be a bad idea at all. Ryoma would never hear the end of it if he went out with another man—he was perfectly straight, but still wouldn't want to give anyone (most especially his own father) any ideas. Fake rumors about his homosexuality had once spread in the States, and he wouldn't want another one of that fiasco anytime again in his lifetime, thank you very much.
He came to a halt once he reached the front gates of the Ryuzaki household. Ryoma, together with his family and all of his former teammates, had attended Ryuzaki-sensei's funeral the day before. He had watched from the corner of his eye as Sakuno silently cried all throughout the ceremony, and he sincerely felt sorry for her. When the team approached her at the cemetery after the burial, she had only smiled and thanked them all for coming. A small part of Ryoma had wanted to say comforting words, but his dominant socially awkward side had chosen to take over and rendered him speechless.
With that in mind, he was all the more nerved with what he was about to do. Wouldn't it be just plain weird to ask her former coach's granddaughter out under these circumstances?
But it's not a date, he reaffirmed to himself, still standing in front of the gates like an unmoving rock. The ticket was supposed to be for Ryuzaki-sensei anyway…
Sighing gravely, he lifted a finger and pressed the buzzer.
No response.
Ryoma waited about a minute before he rang the buzzer once again, but the intercom remained dead. Two more tries told him that the house must be empty. He considered calling Sakuno, but then realized that he didn't have her number. Of course.
Should he get back later? Most likely. He was about to turn around and go someplace nearby where he could hang out for a while when one of the Ryuzakis' neighbors—and elderly woman—passed by, spotting him standing there like an idiot.
"Good morning, young man," she greeted, her hands full of garbage bags. "Pretty fine weather, isn't it?"
Ryoma nodded at her in greeting. "Good morning."
The woman's knees visibly shook from arthritis as she slowly made her way to the garbage pickup station at the street corner. Ryoma decided to come up to her side and help her carry the huge bags.
When she got a closer look at Ryoma, the old woman stopped in her tracks and blinked at him several times.
"You look familiar, boy," she remarked thoughtfully. "I think I've seen you before."
Shoot. "No, you haven't," Ryoma quickly said, racking his mind for an excuse. "My name is Horio," he blurted out.
"Hmmm. I don't know any Horio."
"Exactly my point."
The old woman only shrugged and resumed walking, much to his relief. "Anyway, you've got a nice face, Horio-kun. You can be a supermodel."
"…Thank you."
Once they have deposited the bags into the garbage bin, the old woman turned to Ryoma and patted his arm good-naturedly. "Thank you for helping me, Horio-kun. Your Obaa-chan here has not been doing her daily exercise, he he."
Ryoma tugged his cap uncomfortably, not used at being complimented outside of tennis and his good looks. "No problem."
"What were you doing outside the Ryuzakis' house, by the way?" the old woman asked as they made their way back. "Are you perhaps a friend of Sakuno-chan?"
Ryoma paused. "You can say that," he said. "Is she home?"
"Oh, but Sakuno-chan went to work," the old woman said, shaking her head sadly. "Poor, poor girl. I told her to take a few more days off, but she said she wanted a distraction. Did you know? Her grandmother just died."
Ryoma nodded. "I'll just come by some other time."
"Well," the elderly said with a far too all-knowing smile, "if you want to see to her so badly, you can drop by the bakery she works at."
That was how he found himself an hour later in front of a quaint bakery shop—named Bread Paradise—along one of the busiest streets in Kantou. After a heartbeat's hesitation, he pushed the door open and was greeted by the soft chiming of bells, loudly announcing his arrival. Immediately, a cheerful chorus of "Welcome to Paradise!" was heard throughout the relatively spacious shop.
Unsure of what to do, Ryoma went up to the counter and absently looked at the menu board hanging on the walls. Even as a child, he never particularly liked pastries, so nothing on the food selection attracted his attention. Thankfully, the place served Ponta.
"Good morning!" the female cashier greeted with a small bow. "May I have your order plea..?" Her voice died out when her eyes fell on Ryoma, instantly recognizing him.
"Does Sakuno Ryuzaki work here?" he asked even before she could pull herself together.
The cashier gaped at him for another moment before responding. "Y-Yes…"
Ryoma nodded, more to himself than to her. "Good," he said. "I want a can of Ponta. And tell Sakuno that I'd like to have a word."
He had barely placed himself in an empty booth by the windows when Sakuno Ryuzaki came up to him, fully-decked with her white baker's uniform with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows to indicate that she had been working when she was called. She looked pleasantly surprised to see him there.
"Good morning, Echizen-san," she greeted amiably. "Can I help you with something?"
Ryoma took his time opening his soda and drinking from it. "Take a seat," he said, not meaning to sound gruff at all, but ended up doing so anyway.
Sakuno looked a bit taken aback. "Uhm, okay. Is something the matter?" She carefully placed herself across from him and patiently waited for him to speak. Compared to yesterday, she looked remarkably better, but the bags under her eyes were still there.
Ryoma was, once again, at a loss. Why did he always have to have a hard time when speaking to Sakuno? "…So this is where you work," he started, mentally cursing himself for sounding lame.
"Yes," Sakuno said cheerfully, completely oblivious to his dilemma. "This is where I got my first job and I've watched this place grow from a small stand to a large patisserie and bakeshop, so you can say I'm definitely attached to Bread Paradise."
He nodded noncommittally. "I see." He took another sip from his Ponta.
A moment of silence passed.
Sakuno was starting to fidget in her seat. "…How did you know that I work here?" she finally asked, blinking at Ryoma curiously.
"Your neighbor told me."
"Oh, you've been to the house?"
Ryoma drained half of his drink in one gulp. "Yes," he said, in what he hoped to be cool voice. "I didn't know your number, so I decided to drop by."
"To what do I owe the visit then?" she wanted to know.
Just ask her if she could go to the stupid summit, a voice rang inside Ryoma's head. Don't tell me you're getting cold feet over asking out a girl?
It's not a date, Ryoma mentally retorted, then realized the oddity of responding to himself.
"…"
Sakuno tilted her head to the side. "Echizen-san?"
You're hopeless, the voice sneered, before fading away.
Bracing himself, Ryoma took out the white envelope from his pocket and placed it before the young woman across from him.
Sakuno looked down at it blankly. "Uhmm…"
"It's a ticket," Ryoma said simply, as if it explained everything.
"Alright," she said slowly, reaching out for the envelope and opening it. "A ticket to what?"
"A tennis summit. I'll be going."
Sakuno quickly read the details imprinted inside. "It's tomorrow," she noted, before looking back up at him.
"…Yeah." Ryoma took another swig of his Ponta, only to realize that all of it was gone. He inwardly wished he had bought two cans, just so his clammy hands could do something other than sweat.
…Damn it, who knew that asking out a girl was this hard?
Sakuno looked utterly confused. "So…"
Ryoma regarded her apprehensively. His face, however, showed none of his inner turmoil. "Hn?"
"Why are you telling me all this?" she asked.
Just say it!
"…There's a party afterwards." Smooth, Ryoma Echizen. Real smooth.
Comprehension slowly dawned on Sakuno. She blinked several times, as if she couldn't believe what Ryoma had just implied. "Are you…" she said, visibly bewildered, "asking me to come with you?"
He nodded curtly. Here goes nothing. "Ryuzaki-sensei was supposed to come," he quickly said in explanation. "This was supposed to be her ticket."
The moment he saw her face, he knew he definitely had said the wrong words. At the mention of her late grandmother, Sakuno's brown eyes watered and her lower lip trembled, making loud sirens go off in Ryoma's mind. Dammit, now you're making her cry! What the hell is wrong with you, Ryoma?
Clumsily, he grabbed a tissue from the dispenser that was thankfully provided in each table of the shop and hesitantly offered it to her. "Here."
She gratefully took it and blew her nose on it. "Thanks."
Ryoma, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to bang his head against a solid wall for his stupidity. "…I'm sorry," he started once again, for once sounding like he really meant it. "That was uncalled for."
Sakuno only smiled and shook her head. "It's alright, Echizen-san. I'm sorry. It's just still raw to me."
Ryoma decided that this was as far as he'd go. He'd already made a complete fool out of himself and almost made a woman cry, after all. "I apologize for taking your time," he said tersely, getting onto his feet. "You can forget about this." Suddenly, the thought of going alone was all the more appetizing. It was so much easier than actually trying to get a proper date. As gently as he could, he made to take back the envelope—
To his mild surprise, Sakuno pulled it out of his reach. "I'll go," she said, smiling up at him softly. "I'll talk to the shop manager so that I can have tomorrow off."
Ryoma couldn't believe his ears. "You're going?" he asked rather dumbly.
She nodded. "Yes."
That was unexpected. "…I see," he said, not knowing what to say.
Sakuno heaved herself from her seat and tucked the envelope safely in an inside pocket of her uniform. "What time should we meet tomorrow?" she asked.
"Nine," Ryoma replied all too quickly.
She nodded her consent. "Will we meet at the metro station?"
"No." An awkward pause. "I'll pick you up."
Sakuno blinked. "Oh, thank you." She was distracted when someone called her name from the counter. "That's my sign to get back to work."
Ryoma nodded. "Right."
Sakuno took another moment staring at him before she broke into another one of her genuine smiles. "See you tomorrow, then, Echizen-san," she said, before she suddenly paused. "Oh, I almost forgot!"
He watched curiously as she pulled out a pen and some paper from her pockets.
"My co-workers are asking for an autograph...and they want me to ask if it's alright to take a photo with you."
"Oh."
She looked embarrassed and very apologetic. "I'm sorry, I tried to tell them off, but they were insisting."
After doing some autograph-signing and photo op for the crew, Ryoma finally exited the shop and released a deep breath he wasn't aware of holding in the first place. He looked back at the colorful façade of Bread Paradise from over his shoulder, before he tugged his cap lower and started walking away.
He badly needed some tennis practice to cool off.
There. :) Not to worry, I've got the next chapter almost done! Whatchathink? Reviews will be lovely.