love all

by AC253

Getting accepted into a prestigious middle school is cool and all, but Edma's laziness is doing more harm than help with Rikkaidai's ridiculous obsession with victory. Gen, OC.

Title: love all

Summary: Getting accepted into a prestigious middle school is cool and all, but Edma's laziness is doing more harm than help with Rikkaidai's ridiculous obsession with victory. Gen, OC.

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Chapter I: serve

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"Hell yeah!"

"Don't curse!" Her best friend's mother sent her an aghast look over from across the ocean via their computer, and Ed laughed.

"Sorry, sorry! But you seriously got his signature?"

"Of course I did," Angelina sniffed haughtily, flicking blonde curls over her shoulders. Her nails, now painted bright apple green with blue crystals stylized like raindrops to represent the beginning of May, tapped impatiently on her desk. "And? When are you coming back?"

"Uhh," Ed shrugged a bit. That had been a recurring question every single time she chatted with Angelina online, and the truthful answer always got her on the end of a sulk and glare.

"Edma," Angelina gritted out. And, oh, there was that pout. Ed gave a sheepish shrug and raised both of her hands up in the universal sign of 'I surrender!'

"Seriously sorry! It's not like I can force my dad to change where he works, y'know?"

"Didn't mean you had to move overseas," Angelina said, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth twisted. The expression still looked pretty on her, but she sounded more like a whiny child throwing a tantrum than she did a mature middle school student.

Ed shrugged again, easy smile playing across her lips.

"Do you even like your school? Rikkai-whatever?"

"Rikkai something Fuzoku school. I honestly don't know cuz all the students call it Rikkaidai for short."

"Even 'Rikkaidai' is too bloody long," Angelina said, scoffing.

"But it's cool, I guess." Ed placed a hand on her chin, thinking back to the pristine school grounds and polite students. "The uniforms are a pain, though."

Angelina grimaced. "If I had to wear the same uniform for six days a week, I'd die. Even if it does look cute."

"Haha, true. I sure miss jeans."

"The only thing you wore in school were jeans!"

Ed spluttered. "You're making it sound like I walk around half-naked!"

"It's not like it matters where you're at, anyways!"

"Now, dearie," Mrs. Johnson placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "we can't change her location, but we can totally send over presents, right?"

Angelina blinked twice.

"Oh, I so forgot!"

Just like that, Angelina seemed to remember something. She reached for something off screen as Ed's curiosity rose from each thump and crash that resounded off her microphone. Another few seconds later, and the blue-eyed American reappeared with something that looked like a doll triumphantly grasped in her hands.

"Wait, is that barbie doll?"

Angelina shot her friend a glare. "As if! It's one of those wood dolls you artists like so much. Finally got it from Obay online - I had to, like, fight off three other people for it. You should be totally grateful."

"Awww," Ed crooned, shaping a heart with her hands. "Thanks, Angelina, Mrs. Johnson!"

"No problem, dearie," Mrs. Johnson said smiling, looking much younger than her forty years.

"It might take a teenie while to ship, but I'll attach Red Johansson's autograph with it. You, like, really owe me."

"How can I ever repay you?"

"By getting your ass back to California," Angelina quipped.

"Language!" Mrs. Johnson gasped.

"I'll visit when I can," Ed promised with a grin and a wave. "Alrighty then, I'm off to school! Don't forget to log on early if you wanna chat tomorrow."

"I still can't believe you have school on a Saturday," was the last thing she heard from Angelina before Edma exited her Grounde tab.

Mirth bubbled in her as she swung her bag over her shoulders, shutting off her computer, and made a run for the door. Her father had already left for work as he usually did on weekday, and her stepmother and stepbrother's shoes were also gone. Barely remembering to lock the apartment door, Ed began to make a run for the bus with a single glance at the ticking round clock threatening her with tardiness.

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"She made it!" someone cheered.

"Hey Ed!" her seatmate welcomed.

"Hey, Urayama!"

Ed crashed into her chair, her bag swinging out of her hands to collide with her desk on the floor. On cue, as soon as her butt touched her chair, the bell rang.

The teacher at the front of the classroom gave her the beady eye-glare that she was getting very accustomed to from all of her close calls the past month. The students around her giggled and chuckled beneath their breaths in amusement, and the majority gave her well-meaning grins and nods as a greeting.

"Well, since all of our students are finally here - on time, by some odd mercy from the Gods above - shall we begin the lesson?"

"Sorry, sensei!" Ed called out, quickly pulling out her notebook and rummaged through her bag for writing utensils. The redhead next to her tittered a bit and passed over a pencil as he had done repeatedly for the past month ever since she arrived. She shot him a peace-sign.

She should've known better than to continue her video calls with Angelina every morning. The time difference made it inconvenient for any form of face-to-face communication. As soon as Ed transferred into Rikkadai, she had immediately joined the Theatre Club's production division and got home each day around five in the afternoon, which meant that it was already midnight over in her hometown. And even though Ed wouldn't have minded only talking to her friend once a week on Sunday, Angelina had thrown a tantrum literally just before she left.

At least she made some friends.

Urayama Shīta had a constant blush on his cheeks and he looked like an adorable teddy bear even in his most manly moments, but he was as sweet as he looked. He constantly added "desu" at the ends of his sentences out of pure habit which made him appear even more like a huggable stuffed animal to the rest of the class.

The whole class was pretty cool, actually. People were, as if there was some predetermined rule, always interested in the new transfer student - especially if that transfer student happened to be a foreigner. Ed's simplistic Japanese did little to deter their curiosity, and her friendly and easy-going personality was well-taken by most of the students who were all on some levels of an acquaintance with her. It might've also helped that she transferred in at the beginning of the school term when all of the first years were still getting used to their surroundings even though she had transfer a month before her elementary school's graduation back in California.

Even her homeroom teacher seemed to have some grudging affiliation with her despite all his grumbling and glowering. Or maybe that was just her wishful thinking. Only God would know.

She heard rumors about how prissy and stuck up all the Rikkaidai students were, but now that she was "one of them," she supposed their elitism didn't outcast her too much. At the very least, Ed didn't attend Hyotei. When it came to drama between preteens, she was very much on the Bystander end rather than an Active Participant compared to others - like, say, Angelina.

The lesson droned on and on, and it was somewhat of a miracle that she hadn't fallen asleep.

By the time lunch rolled by, her energy had evaporated into thin air. Ed stretched her arms out like a cat, letting out an open yawn and then spread her arms out in front of her on her desk as she rested her chin on the table. The pretty girl who sat on her other side sniggled a bit - Ed couldn't remember her name - was it X, Y, or Z? - but her female seatmate was a real nice gal. She waved to the tired brunette before going off to her friends.

"Are you alright?"

Ed's head rolled to rest on her left cheeks as she faced Urayama.

"Sleeeepy," she groaned.

He grinned, his ever present blush popping up in her vision. "You should probably be paying more attention to Saneki-sensei. Aren't you doing pretty badly in Modern Japanese?"

"I'm good at it, really!" Ed protested, flapping her hands to little avail. Her head rested in between both arms, and her hands dangled off the edge of her desk. She was too lazy to summon the strength to move her muscles so instead she only flexed her wrist. Wiggle, wiggle… It looked like a fish tail… yum, fish. "It's just Kanji that's a pain in the ass."

The redhead blushed a little at her profanity but grinned.

"Well, do you want to borrow another game?"

Ed's head propped itself upwards, and her eyes sparkled.

"Are you serious? Definitely! I'm nearly done with Last Fantasy IV, and I just gotta kill the final boss."

"Oooh, Last Fantasy? Wasn't that the game you borrowed from Urayama-kun?" a different voice popped in, one that gradually became familiar over the past few weeks.

Two other boys crowded around her desk, all of them from the same tennis team as her seatmate. Apparently, the hellish training that Rikkaidai's tennis club inflicted upon their members were enough to cut out a good 50% of the original applicants and to simultaneously create a sense of camaraderie between the remaining members.

The two newcomers were from 1-B, but by unspoken agreement, they met in 1-A for lunch. Ed suspected that it was half because they realized she didn't have the energy to move anywhere else after one of her worst classes.

While Ed wasn't exactly in the club, she got along well enough with the trio of freshmen to learn enough about the reigning Kings of the school.

"Wassup, Satō, Okada?"

Everyone in her class and her year had been taken aback by her familiar usage and informal way she used to address her classmates. The only other honorifics she used, after her many mistakes and their repeated reminders, were for teachers and upperclassmen. Otherwise, Ed became one of the few students who everyone referred to on a first name basis.

The two boys chorused back greetings as they sat in some empty chairs and pulled out their bentos.

Edma still wasn't used to the extravagant lunches here - all she remembered making back in America was an apple, an orange, or the occasional peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich. And ever since she came here, she had been too tired to cook her own lunches.

But here? Sandwiches came with delicious fillings of meat and veggies, and there were boiled or fried eggs with fancy toppings and spices over rice. The lunches here was on a different plane of existence.

Her mouth watered.

Satō, a mischievous and stubborn boy, grinned as he waved his bento in front of her tauntingly. Okada just looked on in amusement from his seat, breaking apart his chopsticks before eating his own modest lunch. Satō made a move to pass her some egg rolls - closer, and closer, and just as she was about to grab it -

He decided to chomp on it mercilessly.

Ed glowered.

"Shouldn't you be studying instead of playing Last Fantasy?" Satō said in a muffled voice. His mouth was stuffed with fried goodness that he was not sharing. Didn't he know the Golden Rule? Something about sharing things? Ed huffed and leaned back on her chair as Urayama pulled his desk over to connect to hers. Eating in the classroom was also something new - her former teachers would've gone mad back in elementary school.

"Hey, besides History and Modern Japanese, everything else's cool."

And that was true. Her Math, Physical Education, and Art grades were all average for Rikkaidai - which meant they were above average in any other school - and her English grade was stellar. At least she wasn't taking calligraphy like Urayama. Who knows what a mess she would've made… and besides, she did way better in her French class than she did in Modern Japanese.

"Dad's only part Japanese so I'm good at understanding and okay at talking, but my reading comprehension is kinda bad."

"A bit more than bad," Okada coughed. Urayama and Satō laughed. Ed shot him a betrayed look.

Her hands clutched her heart and she made a mock show of crying like those ladies in soap operas.

"Don't bully her, Okada-kun!"

"Well, at least Ed might get better at reading from all those RPGs she's playing."

"Oh, true! That was why I lent it to her in the beginning," Urayama agreed. The redhead angel finally took pity on his new friend and passed over his spare fork, gesturing to his lunch, as he had been doing for the past month. After being introduced to her grumbling stomach and forgetfulness on the first day she transferred, he had made a habit of packing some extra food and school utensils.

"It helps," Ed agreed, happily stabbing through a piece of pork. "And I mean, I watch enough anime in my free time so I'm learning and playing at the same time!"

"No, no, I think that's just called slacking off…"

"Here," Okada said, using his chopsticks to split off a small portion of his rice.

"Ooh, thanks!"

"Tsk, tsk. If you're gonna freeload off of us all the time, you should treat us to some food!" Satō teased, but he passed her his carrots.

"Hey, you should be thanking me for eating your vegetables. What kind of middle schooler avoids eating carrots?"

"But carrots are disgusting!"

"Think about your precious Captain, though. I bet he doesn't skip out on his nutrients."

"Yea, well, he's a Child of God. He has all that grace and love-the-world shizz going on."

"I don't think he hates anything," Okada said thoughtfully, interrupting their banter.

"Of course not!" Urayama gushed, eyes sparkling. "He's so amazing, and so strong, and I've heard so many amazing things like how he led the tennis team to the Nationals for two years straight—"

"Right? I can't wait until he comes back!" Satō said.

Even Okada's eyes sparkled at the mention of their idol. From the little Ed could gather, apparently the tennis team captain was recovering at some hospital due to an injury. That, and he was really well-liked to the point where everyone in the school - from her fellow freshmen to all her teachers - knew of his name.

"Yeah, good luck on staying alive until his return," Ed chuckled.

The other three boys blanched and then spent the remaining lunch period complaining in both fear and awe over their vice captain's brutal orders during practice.

.

As soon as class started, the students were in perfect order with their undivided attention focused on their teacher. Math-sensei, a hot lady with stern eyes and a sharp smile, was someone who commanded respect. She had the whole disciplinary aura going on that threatened certain doom to anyone who misbehaved. But instead of immediately beginning the lesson, she instead wrote something Ed couldn't understand on the board.

"Psst, what does it say?" Ed whispered.

Urayama made a move to reply before a deliberate ah-hem interrupted his response.

"If you want to know, you can just ask me Ed -" the teacher started. Then she coughed a bit. "Edma-san."

Ed and her classmates grinned at the correction. Even her teachers at this point were starting to fall into the habit of using her shortened nickname to her already short name. "Sorry, Math-sensei."

"It's Rio-sensei."

Ed just gave a cheeky grin.

The woman cleared her throat and then sighed. "No matter."

She turned and nodded towards the door. At the signal, another upperclassman entered, waving at the class, before the teacher continued.

"Alright class, there's a debate tournament coming up. I realize that there's not many freshmen on the debate team, but our club has been in the finals thrice over the past five years, and we won the championship three years ago. Now, this certainly is a time consuming club, but if anyone is interested and believes themselves to have a dedicated disposition fit for our team, please come see me after class."

She stepped back and allowed the boy to take the stage. Any hushes or murmurs died as the class respectfully gave him their attention.

"Hello," the upperclassman said. He bowed politely to the class and smiled kindly. "As Rio-sensei has stated, there's a tournament coming up. We start sooner than most other academic clubs here on campus, so I asked for permission to start recruiting earlier this year."

He wrote three words of the board: Copper, Silver, and Gold. Then he wrote numbers underneath it, all in the tens.

"Overall, we have the ability to make it to the finals repeatedly. And while we haven't won championship in a while, I have the utmost confidence that we have the means to achieve victory." He smiled again, but this time, Ed felt distinctly uncomfortable. He pointed to the words written on the board. "These are the number of awards from the individual results we gained last year in different areas, from the Congressional Debate to our Dramatic Interpretations."

There was silence in the classroom, and Ed felt some tension digging into her head as all of her fellow classmates eyes focused themselves on the board. I feel that Imma be singled out if I look anywhere else…

"We're going to the top this year," he promised, "and Victory will be Ours."

She could just hear the capital letters.

A beat later, and he bowed to cut through the tension. Suddenly, the upperclassman looked normal again instead of some crazed fool drunk on winning. He bowed to the class and the teacher, and then exited the classroom. Rio-sensei faced her students as the wooden door slid close.

"Alright then class, contact me if you ever want to stand as a Champion."

Math-sensei looked satisfied, and her voice sounded a bit haughty as if saying, "Of course, our team will win," but she didn't say such a thing aloud. Instead she told the class, "Please consider it."

Then she turned to erase what probably spelled 'Debate Club' along with the stats adding to Rikkaidai's glory, and began writing out the formulas the students just learned yesterday.

Ed sat there for a second before pulling out her borrowed pencil and ragged notebook.

Hooray for math.

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The last bell was about to ring.

After the hell that was physical education, Ed just wanted to curl up into a ball under her blankets at home. For some reason, her teacher had gotten pissed off and then demanded extra laps from the students with classes in the afternoon. Ed was unfortunate enough to have the class later in the day, burning sun and all. While Urayama was doing (surprisingly) well, as his practices in the tennis club was much more brutal than this, the only exercise Ed ever did was running to and from her bus, home, and school every day.

Which meant her stamina was worth dirt.

"You need some water, Ed-kun?" a girl took pity on her, offering the tired brunette a water bottle.

"Thanks," Ed said, though it sounded more like a garbled mumble than actual words. She took a swig of water and then offered a thumbs up. At the very least, all the non-athletic students was in the same boat as her.

"Ed-san isn't in a sport, huh?" another girl said. Ed recognized her to be her other seatmate.

Ed sheepishly chuckled. "Yeah, I don't exercise too often."

"You were really good at volleyball the other day, though!" Water Girl offered. "Oh...but your energy ran out near the end."

"Oh, right," Pretty Seatmate agreed in realization. "You were cool at soccer, too, but you just kind of slowed down half way."

"My stamina's pretty bad," Ed said, pulling her shoes on. "Well, I gotta get my stuff, so I'll see you tomorrow!"

The majority of the girls who remained in the locker room echoed their farewells as Pretty Seatmate added, "Try not to be late tomorrow!"

When she got back, she found Urayama waving with his tennis bag resting snugly against his shoulders, having already finished changing. She fished through her bag for her borrowed pencil and tossed it back to him with a thanks as both of them prepared to head out, saying bye to their fellow classmates on their way. As if on cue, the last bell rung the second they exited the classroom.

"Man, what's with Sensei today? Five laps are five too many."

"I don't know," Urayama sighed with a pout. "I think I heard it was cause Niou-sempai left some water bombs during lunch."

"Ooh, the prankster?"

"Yes! He's a really funny sempai, but he's kinda scary sometimes..."

Funny and scary? Sounded like Angelina. Ed sniggered, receiving a confused smile, though her friend didn't say anything, having already gotten used to some of her tendencies. They engaged in some pointless chatter until they reached the intersection that separated their clubs.

"So what happened?"

"With Niou-sempai? Well, the bombs went off in the gym storage room, but no one saw him even though everyone knew it was him, so the teacher couldn't do anything. Sempai had an alibi and all."

Ed snorted. No doubt someone covered for him. "Sucks for sensei."

Urayama's mouth quirked up. "I have to help with the Health Committee tomorrow, so don't wait up."

"Oh! I forgot - I think I gotta help with my own thing tomorrow!"

"Yours is on Monday," he reminded.

"Monday," she said, correcting herself with a groan of resignation. "I don't suppose you remember which committee it is?"

Urayama sighed. "The Physicals Education Committee. You're not even in a sport…"

She shrugged helplessly.

"Well, you have fun with tennis practice."

"Oh, you too - have fun at theatre! I'll see you tomorrow in History!" Urayama said brightly.

Ed's face blanched, causing the redhead to giggle, but she waved as she walked onto a different road at the junction between the sports courts and art buildings.

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The Rikkaidai Theatre building was grand, just like every other building they had. The tennis court was probably still the largest, though.

Still, the looming structure always evoked a sense of bemused amusement within her. Just how much money did Japanese schools have again? Even the uniforms were pristine and prettily designed, and the school tuition was pretty high for someone who formerly came from a free public school. Ed supposed that's what she got for transferring into an escalator school.

The second she entered the auditorium room, a loud yell resounded across the halls. One student clutched him chest, falling dramatically to the floor, the play clutched in his other hand. Some other students on standby noticed her, giving her a few ave of acknowledgements. Ed waved back and went around to the backstage where, predictably, the other half of the theatre students were.

"Ed-kun, there you are," her teacher said. He was an aging man with dark hair with rounded glasses perched on his nose. "We're just cleaning up the backstage now. The rest of Crew are starting to build up some flats out back."

"Got it! Thanks, sensei."

True to his words, her fellow clubmates were suffering the heat under the burning sun. Ed sneezed some of the dust away, the musky smell of wood entering her ears. Some students, mostly her upperclassmen, were lifting up a pair of unfinished flats away. The rest were drilling holes into wood, building the bases of what was to become the background.

"Hey, over here!" A girl with red hair waved her over. She momentarily took off her goggles and turned off the drill in her hands.

"Ako-sempai, wassup."

"Wassup to you, too." 'Ako' rolled her eyes. She motioned to the pieces of wood in front of her and demanded, "Go get a pair of goggles and a drill and start working."

"Yes, ma'am!" Ed saluted.

An hour later and sweating terribly, Ed slumped onto the cool ground. Cool, sweet earth. She rolled onto her back and raised her hand to shield her eyes,

"Don't do that!"

"Manager-sempai!"

Another girl looked at Ed from the top, head coincidentally covering her face from the sun. Her face looked like one found on an exasperated mother's face.

"Don't call - " the third year faltered. "Oh, never mind. If you're already done with making the flats, go help out with painting."

Ed blanched. "We're painting today? But, Maaaager-seempaii..."

"Don't 'But, Maaaager-seempaii' me!" she yelled, voice mockingly high pitched when repeating Ed's words. She adjusted her glasses and took Ed by the arms, roughly pulling the other one up and shoved her into the direction of the painters.

"But I didn't bring a change of clothes!"

The Manager stomped away.

"Too bad, so sad," Ako chuckled unsympathetically, appearing just in time to see Ed being abandoned. She came back from the inner room decked out in messy shorts and a colorful shirt with paint ages old splattered across it.

"You traitor! You didn't remind me!" Ed accused, jabbing a finger at her friend rather rudely. Ako whacked the offending finger away.

They both headed over to the rest of the Crew who gave the two amused looks. One person looked particularly sympathetic as he handed her a paintbrush, also stuck in his school uniform. They both exchanged glances and mournfully begun their task. As much as a slob Ed may be, she did a good job at finishing what she was assigned to. She finished the majority of the base coat after sending a prayer to her clothes, completely disregarding the paint that smeared across her skin and uniform.

When they finished with a quarter of an hour left to spare, the Crew members started cleaning up. Ed stretched and grabbed the paint caps, throwing them over the cans and prepared to stomp on them.

"Hey, Ed-san, the Stage Manager is calling for - you do know you can use a hammer for that, right?"

"Aki-sempai, how's practice?" Ed said casually, balancing both feet on the top of the can underneath her. "And nah, we didn't take the hammer out today, and I don't wanna find it, so..."

"My practice went perfectly fine, thank you. Your laziness is going to get you injured one day," Aki said dryly, running a single hand through bright red hair reminiscent of Ako.

Ed shrugged, grinning. "Aww, how nice of you to care."

"You should be caring a bit more," he scolded. "And our Manager is calling for you, so you should have headed there, like, five minutes ago."

"Ooh, someone's in trouble," Ako interrupted with a devilish grin, arms swinging around Ed's neck. Ed, in turn, clawed futilely at the redhead's arms as Ako turned to her twin. "How was practice?"

He started to answer.

"Actually, don't tell me, I bet you sucked anyways."

Aki scowled. The two siblings began to squabble while Ed took the chance to duck and sneak away indoors. The second she entered the hall, a breeze of cool air blew against her cheeks. It felt like a small blessing for someone stuck out in the sun for nearly the past two hours so Ed enjoyed it with open arms.

"You called for me, Manager-sempai?" Spotting her senior commanding the other students around, Ed called out, voice echoing across the auditorium.

She turned. Then gave her an incredulous look.

"Your clothes..." Manager-sempai groaned. For a second, it seemed as if she'd just send Ed away again, but the older girl instead pointed out the stains. "You'd better wash them as soon as you get home. Use some rubbing alcohol or a hairspray before washing it."

Ed whistled. "How amazing! You sure know everything, huh?"

"It's just experience," Manager-sempai gave her an indulgent smile that quickly faded from her face, replaced by a more severe expression. "Now, Ed-san, I needed to ask something..."

Ed waited patiently.

"Are you taking theatre seriously?" Seeing the confused look on Ed's face, the other continued to clarify. "I'm not asking if you want a job in the arts or anything like that - I'm sure most of the students here are here because they see it as a hobby or side interest. And it's great that people here are having fun. But, Ed-san, at times it seems as if you have the most passion for it, and at others, it feels like you see it as a... a chore, I suppose, for a lack of better word."

"Chore?" Ed echoed. "Well, not really? I mean, I like theatre and all, but I guess my enthusiasm just flares up and dies out at weird times. Is that bad?"

"Oh, no, your work is perfectly fine," Manager-sempai said, pushing up her glasses. "It's just that, it seems like you can do more. Be more, if you put a little more effort into your work."

"Effort, huh?" Ed laughed, but even to the most oblivious watcher, she sounded troubled.

"Hey, sensei, we're done cleaning!" Someone called out for the teacher.

She turned to the source of the voice. In a louder voice that bellowed his unassuming appearance, the Theatre teacher congratulated everyone, told them the meeting time tomorrow, and then dismissed his students. The Manager breathed out a sigh and looked at the brunette in front in her.

"You're free to go. I'll see you tomorrow, Ed-san," she said.

As Ed left the building bidding farewell to the twins along the way, she thought back to the frown that accompanied her Manager's last words.

Her mouth twitched up into a satirized smile. Disappointment.

.

Drained and utterly exhausted, Ed dragged her bag across the ground as she forced her legs forward. Half past five and she was already feeling like a zombie. A red, paint-splattered zombie. She reached up to rub some dust from her eyes, and then groaned aloud when she felt something wet slide diagonally downwards from her right eye to her cheeks.

There were hurried footsteps behind her that Ed paid no heed to, preoccupied with finding some sort of cloth to clean off the mess. What kind of person carried around handkerchiefs these days, anyways? But then of course, whoever was running had been preoccupied with something else, and the two girls clashed spectacularly into a fall.

"Oh, no, I'm so sor -" The girl halted mid-sentence, and the slight worry in her eyes turned into full-blown horror.

She shrieked.

Ed winced.

"Um?"

"OH NO YOU'RE BLEEDING, YOUR EYES, OH KAMI-SAMA, THERE'S BLOOD ALL OVer - mmph!"

Using her free hand that was luckily free of wet paint, Ed covered the other girl's mouth.

"Shhh! It's okay man! It's just paint!"

Ed raised her other hand and waved it uncomfortably close to the girl as if she was trying to force the proof down the poor stranger's throat. There was another beat of panicked struggles, before understanding dawned in the other girl's eyes. With great hesitancy, Ed cautiously removed her hand. The girl, still quiet, was now glancing at Ed's appearance with blatant shock. There may have been some judgement in there too, though Ed couldn't really blame her.

"Uh, you okay?"

"Oh! Oh, yes, I'm alright," the other girl stammered, standing up in one quick motion. "I'm really sorry about that!"

"Nah, it's cool. You looked like you were in a rush?" Ed smiled politely and jabbed a thumb in the direction of the tennis courts. Now that she actually said that, she could hear some screaming from there - or, at least, more noises than usual.

The other girl's eyes guarded eyes turned into hearts. "One of the Regulars are having a match!"

"A...match?" But didn't they always have practice matches? Or was that forever-absent captain of theirs finally back?

"Yes, there was apparently this jerk pushing around some underclassman and then Yagyuu-sempai stepped in, and when the other boy didn't apologize, they threatened to kick him off the tennis team, and now I really, really have to go and see the match, goodbye!"

"I - what?"

In the span of two seconds and one long breath, Ed received an explanation and a farewell as the other girl rushed onto her destination. Ed stood there dumbfounded for a second. She glanced at the empty spot in front of her, and then in the direction of the Tennis Club.

Well, it's not really any of my business, soooo...

...

...Oh, wow, there really are a lot of people here.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Ed saw some of her friends on the other side of the fences where the rest of the non-regulars watched from. The majority of the other students were clinging to the other fences, some sitting on the benchers for a better view. While it wasn't completely filled as it might have been on a game day, it was still ridiculously packed.

Jogging over to Urayama and Okada, she waved at the other first years who returned her smile after a second glance at her clothes.

"Ah, Ed!" Urayama made some space for her to squeeze in next to him.

Okada looked at her with a frown. "You look like you murdered someone. Or got killed and came back to life."

"Yeah, no kidding," Ed said with a laugh. "But what's all this about? And where's Satō?"

The sweet grin faded from Urayama's face, a gloom casting over him. "Satō-kun is..."

"He got beaten up," Okada said bluntly.

Ed gaped. Urayama started waving his hands and head wildly in a "no" motion.

"Not badly! Okada-kun, you're making it sound worse than it actually is!" Urayama groaned. He looked around as if his surroundings would give him help with explaining. He perked up as soon as he caught sight of something - or rather, someone. "Hey, Ed, you see that guy over there?"

The boy he was pointing out look as average as can be, decked out in the standard tennis uniform with shaggy brown hair and a tennis racket in hand. Ed stared at him a bit more, and then realized that his face looked tense and nervous more than it was excited like their many peers. She peeked around and saw some other students pointing and talking to each other...about him? They were chatting with the kind of general attitude that make it obvious they weren't saying anything good.

With a few more puzzle pieces to her collection, it wasn't too hard to make the connection.

"So, he's the jerk everyone's gossiping about?"

Okada nodded affirmatively, adding bitterly, "And also the one who sent Satō-san to the nurse office."

"He got a scratch on his leg," Urayama hastened to clarify. "Sempai was going around bossing us around cause the Regulars were having some special practice in the swimming pool - something about water exercises, I think - and then Satō told him to, um, go away."

"Go away?" Ed repeated, a grin dawning on her face.

"He said, 'Fuck off,'" Okada confirmed, making quotes in the air.

Urayama blushed a bit and coughed under his breath. "So, anyways, the sempai didn't take that too well and then tried to force Satō out, and I mean, we tried to help... But the other second and third years were just kind of ignoring us. One of us did run to the coaches, but the pool was located indoors so it took a while for them to get here."

Not surprising, Ed thought dully. Rikkaidai's tennis club was united in their power, but there was a world of difference between the Regulars and the non-Regulars. That, added with the divide between the different years made a sort of power hierarchy that she was starting to understand was common in Japan.

"They got into a match, but that sempai kept on aiming for Satō-kun's body. He managed to dodge most of them and score some points, but then he tripped over a rolling ball and fell, so another first year ran to call the nurse."

"What, you guys didn't have a referee?"

"The teachers and trainers were either with the regulars or looking at data indoors, so a third year got voted up as the referee." Okada discreetly pointed out a group of older students, also decked in uniform, a few feet over from where the first years were clustered around.

"And I'm guessing this Jerk-sempai of ours was a third year."

"Got it in one."

Ed grimaced, turning back her gaze to the stage. Favoritism. Of course. Someone stepped onto the courts, customized yellow jacket marking his standing as a Regular. The talking escalated into screams. Ed and Okada clamped their hands over their ears, Urayama instead joining with the cheers.

The Mystery Man raised his right arm once. Silence descended.

The stillness of the crowd made the growing tension all the more obvious, and Ed felt as if everyone was holding their breath along with her. An adult walked into the tennis grounds, a man who she recognized to be one of the team's coaches, and climbed up to the tall chain situated to the side of the court. Tennis rackets in hand, the two players walked up to the net. The boy who she had now dubbed Jerk internally tried to stomp up to meet the Regular, but he paled in comparison.

Standing side by side like that, the second boy who arrived seemed so much larger than the first in both body and aura. There's no way that guy's a middle schooler.

"That's Sanada Gen'ichirō, the Emperor," Urayama squealed in a whisper. His eyes sparkled.

Ed raised an eyebrow.

"The 'Emperor'?"

"Intimidating, isn't he?" Okada adjusted his glasses with a knowing look.

"Reminds me of History-sensei," Ed said with a shiver. "Bleurgh."

Their attention turned back to match just as the other third year slapped away Sanada's handshake. There was a collective of gasps and murmurs from the onlookers, and Ed whistled only to get nudged back into silence by another first year nearby her. The other Regulars, watching from a closer area along the benches in the court, looked half-amused and half-resigned.

"It seems you need a lesson," he declared simply, turning to walk towards the corner of his side of the court.

There was a guy with blue hair who said something that felt vaguely unkind making the black haired teen next to him snort with laughter. The only other foreigner who was a Regular seemed to be scolding them immediately after that conversation, so there was definitely no way the amused boy was saying something supportive.

"He's doomed," Okada said, referring back to the anger-fueled boy on court. His opponent, the guy with a cap, seemed perfectly calm and not at all amused. Ed guessed that was the consensus.

As match passed the one minute mark with two points to Sanada's name, any doubts Ed had that the cocky boy was going to get crushed long dissipated. It wasn't even his turn to serve - the other guy was struggling to even make a single point. The only thing Ed knew about tennis was from the Wii her dad had gotten her in summer, and while that was fun, this looked exhausting.

The first game finished, ending with not a single point under the challenger's name.

"So, uh, how long does this thing last?"

Another freshman nearby her turned around shrugged. "It can be fifteen minutes or it can last hours. Tennis isn't timed like other sports."

From the looks of it, this match was probably going to fall under the former category.

Within ten minutes, the guy with the cap had two games under him, completely dominating in his serve game. No one seemed surprised, not even the Jerk, but his opponent did seem to get increasingly frustrated - as expected. Ed wasn't at all a competitive sports player, but she liked losing as much as another other person: i.e. not at all. It was even worse when she didn't hold a candle to her opponent. There was a slight brush of pity welling up inside her though she doubt the Jerk would care much for it.

She watched as one struggled and the other controlled the match. In the fourth game, just when it seemed that the Jerk would've scored a single point with what Okada admitted was an 'impressive backhand,' Sanada smashed the innocent green ball just within the boundaries of the white lines. It bounced, crashing to the fence scattering away the students watching from the other side.

A second.

And then it fell, leaving behind a fist-sized dent in the fence.

"Amazing!" Urayama gushed.

Ed starred. Yeah, there's no way that guy's in middle school. She's heard rumors and had been listening to her friends' complaints about their hellish practice schedule for the past month, but the term "demon" had always been used jokingly. Now? She wasn't too sure. With that not-quite-human smash went whatever hopes the other sempai had, his next two games severely lacking in comparison to his first attempts.

The brunette stumbled over his feet repeatedly. One couldn't even say he was trying to win anymore; he looked like he was just trying to keep standing.

"He should realize that it's futile by now," Okada said with a wry smirk. It looked decisively different from his usual smile, and not in a good way.

Unable to find a decent response, Ed just continued to watch as the next two games flew by. There was no pity or mercy from the Regular, and she wasn't sure which was worse - playing someone who would go easy on you, or playing someone who had the intent to destroy you.

"You can just fall with despair!" the demon spat out, scoring the final point.

6-0.

Ed wasn't a sports junkie, but she didn't need to be to understand that it was a perfect game for the winner. And that it was utter humiliation for the loser.

There was no handshake, no 'good-jobs' and none of that after-match well-wishes. What did happen was Sanada walking up to the other fallen guy. She half-expected him to pat the fallen boy on the back and refer him to teacher, but of course, that would only occur in an alternate universe where all was well. The black haired boy raise his hand, and, as Ed watched with a kind of abated horror, slapped his former opponent.

The force of it knocked the other boy to the floor. There was no yelling or any retaliation, perhaps from shock, or perhaps from fear, Ed wouldn't know.

"You're bring shame to the Rikkaidai Tennis Team. Get off the courts."

Without another word, Sanada left.

The cheers were deafening.

As much as an asshole as that bully was, he sure was looking real pitiful now.

I wonder if that dude's okay, Edma thought internally and turned to vocalize her thoughts. But instead of pity or worry, all she saw on her friends faces were bright smiles, awe, and respect battling for dominance within their eyes, mixed with no small measure of jealousy. Her words died on her lips. They paid her no attention, and Ed looked back to the rest of the student body as every face her eyes landed upon mirrored back that very same expression of amazed respect.

Then she looked at the tennis regulars, all of whom were standing outside the court and watching on from afar.

There was a glimmer in their eyes, and Ed thought,

Oh.

Because to them, clubs weren't just an activity to enjoy - they were something to win in and dominate. If she thought about it that way, she understood her Theatre sempai's disappointed frown, the spark of obsession in her classmates' eyes when they spoke of competitions, and the flames burning in Urayama's eyes when he gushed about his tennis club's straight victories over the past two years. And she understood the glare in that tennis vice-captain's eyes, the ruthlessness in his strength, and the crushing defeat that echoed across the fallen bully's face.

It wasn't a lesson.

The act was a threat carried out.

To all those who challenged the Kings, this was what they received in retribution.

Angelina's words came back to her mind. "Do you even like your school?"

I'm not sure.

Maybe.

No.

I... don't think I like Rikkaidai after all.

.

A/N: Beta-ed by Serendipithy; send them internet hugs and kisses. Hopefully this time around I'll actually finish this; it's tentatively planned for ~13 chapters. Also, if you're worried about the number of OCs - don't be. All the ones you'll have to remember have pictures to their names which can be found in my profile.