JUST ANOTHER DAY

Old Fiat s. Italy

Note from the author:

This was written for OFnFR's birthday. Happy Birthday ST!

I hope you guys enjoy, since I have all the chapters already written, this'll be updated fairly quickly. Just give me the rate you'd like the chapters to be posted. (No quicker than once a day. I recently got some sort of life.)

Let's get going:

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Chapter One

Kiyosumi Sengoku always thought it was good to think on the roof of his house. He could see the whole neighborhood from there. On his right he could see all the way to the end on the suburban housing, and a little of the short roads to Tokyo; and on his left, all the way to the gated community, Oakwood. He knew his dad was doing well in business because they were in a nice cozy middle.

There were a lot of different families that left their windows open all summer. Sengoku's favorite was an Indian family who lived in a bright red house. They were always speaking loudly and playing Bollywood films. Since they only lived a block away, he could always hear their loud conversations and the high-pitched woman on their television. He loved seeing the tall, elegant father get into his small black car and drive towards Oakwood for work each morning, and Sengoku always paused on his way to school to watch him.

Sengoku's own father ran a restaurant in the city specializing in Italian food. Good Italian food, mind you. His father would never sell anything less than perfect. While Mr. Sengoku wasn't actually a very good cook, but he knew business. Besides, he didn't cook anything in the restaurant.

At that moment actually, Sengoku was sitting on his roof. He was watching the gates of the Funny Farm. (That's what everyone called Oakwood. It was filled with actors, models, singers and fashion designers. All the insane, rich families lived in Oakwood. He had been told Goldenwood, the housing area just beyond Oakwood, was where the actually sane, rich people lived.)

He decided he had been thinking long enough and needed some excitement. There was never much to do in the summer. Once the hot humid air settled over Tokyo, nobody wanted to leave their cool, air-conditioned houses.

Everyone except Sengoku.

He loved the thick, warm air. It was like walking through soup. Also there weren't as many people walking down the streets in the summer, excluding a few tourists.

He stood up on the roof and grabbed a tree branch. It was easy to see he'd done this many times before. He climbed down and few branches and stepped back through the window and into his room.

The entire Sengoku house was decorated mostly in beige and his room was no exception. The white walls had the occasional bright posters of Nadal and Federer stuck on them; the hard wood bookshelves had very few books (Sengoku read mostly magazines, and most of them were on the floor) and a lot of tennis trophies and old rackets. The closet doors were always open to reveal thousands of pieces of clothing, most of them on the floor of the closet with more tennis things. His shoes were in a box at the back of the closet. It was a big box and most of his shoes looked rather similar in the morning, so sometimes he came to school with one blue-and-white Nike and one blue-and-white Sketchers. They didn't look similar either! One was slightly smaller and the other had a thinner sole so he walked around school all day feeling very lopsided.

Sengoku jogged down the steps and into the kitchen.

"Mom?" he called in the pristine kitchen. "Can I go bicycle into Tokyo?"

"Fine," she turned another page of The Nanny Diaries. "Make sure to pop into the restaurant and tell your father you're in the city. And head home with when he closes up."

"Alright!" he ran into the garage and wheeled out his bicycle. It was an old bike, with a 1960s feel to it. He also grabbed his bag of rackets. He had heard there were some cool street courts in Tokyo, if they were empty, maybe he could practice a little. He wasn't feeling very show off-y that day.

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Two weeks later, Atobe Keigo walked quickly towards the street tennis courts, Kabaji in tow. The gray haired youth held a bouquet of violently red tulips and seemed a little nervous judging by how quickly and how much he was speaking to his companion.

"Well, Kabaji, do you think An will like these tulips? I recall her saying to the twit, Kamio, that they were her favorite flower. She'll probably swoon they moment I ask her out to that French food place, ne Kabaji?"

"Usu."

"Do you think I should've done something with my hair? Like, let it curl or something? No…No, she knows me looking like this, so I will stay like this, ne Kabaji?"

"Usu," Kabaji resisted the urge to roll his eyes. An would be more likely to go out with Atobe if she couldn't tell who he was.

"I think I'll say to her, 'Miss Tachibana, would you like to join me at eight o'clock to eat at the Chat d'Noir?' That'll sound good. No… No—No, I should hand her the flowers first, then ask her out, ne Kabaji?"

"Usu," Kabaji wished he was at home. He wanted to curl up on the couch with his little sister and watch High School Musical 2: Dance A-Long Edition.

Atobe paused in front of the steps to the street courts. He took a deep breath and glanced at Kabaji.

"Here it goes," he said, handing his tennis bag to Kabaji and jogging up the steps.

He paused looking down at the courts. There was a familiar looking ginger-haired guy, probably the same age as him, playing tennis against Akira Kamio. He jumped to reach a lob and smashed it.

The ball flew so fast to the courts it was impossible to see until it landed.

It was that Yamabuki guy! Atobe realized suddenly. Sengo… Se… Sengoku! Kiyosumi Sengoku of Yamabuki!

Atobe felt his confidence level fall from 'through the roof' to 'center of the earth' as An went over to Sengoku and shook his hand. Her voice floated over to him.

"Great job!"

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Sengoku had been talked into playing tennis by perky girl named An Tachibana when he had come down to the street courts two weeks ago and had been coming back every night since. He'd actually begun driving down to the city with his father at eight in the morning.

He had recognized her as the girl who always cheered for Fudomine, but was unaware she was Kippei Tachibana's younger sister. He had wanted head towards the shops when he saw the other people there, but she had called him down.

While Sengoku did enjoy looking at almost all girls, he felt he wasn't looking at her in the same way. His usually reaction to most girls was 'She's hot!' Or 'She's got a nice butt…' Well, he didn't look at any of his friends who were girls that way, but… you know.

But when he saw An close up for the first time—seeing her intelligent eyes, sweet smile and smooth skin— his stomach tied in a knot. He felt he was crossing some invisible line by even being aloud to see her.

For once it wasn't, 'She's hot', 'Nice butt', 'Long stems' or 'Delightful rack.' The only thought it his mind at that moment was about the only complete sentence his mind had ever put together.

She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

He knew he couldn't refuse it when she suggested he play Akira. It didn't really matter, he'd played Akira before, but he just wanted to see An cheer for his opponent. Did this mean he was in love?

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Atobe ran over to An from the stairway. He felt a little wounded, but maybe she was just friends with this guy! Maybe they were mortal enemies and she was going to break his wrist! But once she had shaken his hand, she let go and began talking to him and Akira.

"An!" Atobe said loudly as he stepped in front of Sengoku. "Hi!" He grinned at her.

"Hi Atobe," she said, giving him a forced smile. "Hi Kabaji-kun," she nodded at the other boy, who had walked over and stood next to Atobe. She thought he was so close for moral support.

Kabaji was next to Atobe just to see An refuse him up close.

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Please review!

-OFSI