Notes: Written well before the manga actually reached Nationals, so diverges from that. Assumes that Seigaku won, naturally.
Valedictory
The atmosphere in the sushi restaurant was familiar enough to Ryuuzaki Sumire, even if the post-victory celebration was wilder than she'd seen it in years. She knew this mood very well, had seen it every year since she had begun coaching, after whatever end the Seigaku team made of the tournament season, and not even the glitter of the trophy sitting in a place of honor at the sushi bar could completely banish the incipient melancholy.
After tonight, it was all going to change.
Standing back with Inoue and Shiba, watching the scramble for choice pieces of sushi (slower, now, and languid; even Momoshiro and Kaidoh were squabbling more for form's sake than out of hunger) and listening to the fifth dissection of the tie-breaker between Tezuka and Rikkai's Yukimura--Sumire smiled.
"You had a team to be proud of, this year," Inoue murmured.
"I always do," Sumire said.
"Of course." Inoue smiled, and his eyes twinkled. "But some teams you can be more proud of than others... right?"
Sumire snorted. "Perhaps." She watched Kikumaru ruffle Echizen's hair with one hand, while his other was busy stealing sushi from the freshman's platter. Echizen protested, and while he attempted punish Kikumaru for the theft, Oishi calmly helped himself to the purloined sushi. "They did well this year," she said. "Very, very well."
"Have your seniors mentioned where they plan to apply to high school?" Inoue asked, after a moment.
Shiba, who was flushed and glassy-eyed from too much sake, blinked. "High school?" she squawked, her voice rising above the hubbub.
The room went silent for a very long moment, as heads all around the room swiveled to stare at the trio of adults.
Shiba giggled, uncertainly. "What?" She hiccupped.
Inoue rubbed the back of his head. "I guess I'd better drive you home tonight, hadn't I, Shiba-san?"
The noise level began to climb again, as the boys began picking up the threads of their interrupted conversations, but it was a muted roar now.
Sumire recognized the beginning of the end when she saw it. "Kawamura-san," she said, approaching the sushi chef. "Thank you for allowing them to take over like this... again. You've been more than generous."
"It's no problem," he said, with the grin that his son had inherited. "They've earned it, after all."
Sumire chuckled. "I suppose they have, at that," she said, reaching out and patting the trophy. She yawned. "I suppose I ought to start chasing them home. I think they'd stay here all night if they could."
"They can stay as late as they like, Ryuuzaki-san," Kawamura assured her. "Even if they end up regretting it in the morning."
"These boys aren't the sort for regrets," Sumire corrected him. "Still, it is getting late..." She turned, meaning to call the boys to order, but Tezuka was already rising to his feet. Sumire fought to hide a smile. If this year's team had been particularly worthy of her pride, she had to look no further than the best damn team captain she'd ever been given the privilege to coach to see why.
The chatter died off again, reluctantly, as everyone looked at Tezuka, who waited until he had everyone's attention before he bowed to the bar. "Kawamura-san, thank you for your hospitality tonight," he said. There was the tiniest of pauses before Momoshiro whistled and started applauding, and the rest of the boys followed his lead. Sumire didn't have to look to know that Kawamura was ducking his head sheepishly and grinning. Kawamura-kun really did take after his father a lot.
Tezuka waited for the clapping and cheering to die down, and then addressed himself to Sumire. "Ryuuzaki-sensei. Thank you for coaching us."
This time there was no pause, and the clapping went on for quite a while. Sumire had to clear her throat by the time her boys had calmed down again. "It's been an honor to coach you boys," she said, and she sounded raspier than usual in her own ears.
Tezuka dipped his head in acknowledgement. "We played well today," he said finally, and faces broke out into grins around the room to hear him say it. "Very well," he added. "And now... I think it's time to go."
And it was as simple as that. Sumire knew she would have had to scold for ten minutes to get the last of the boys out the door, but at Tezuka's word, Echizen's freshman cheering section scooted out the door with hastily-called goodbyes, closely followed by Momoshiro and Echizen himself. Kaidoh ducked out alone, Inoue helped Shiba into her shoes and then out the door with an expression of saintly forbearance, and that left Sumire, her granddaughter, and the seniors.
"Thank you again, Kawamura-san," Sumire murmured, as the seniors clustered by the door, tying shoelaces with slow fingers and fiddling with tennis bags, not quite meeting one another's eyes. "Let's go, Sakuno-chan."
Sakuno ducked out the door ahead of her, so Sumire took a last moment to smile at her seniors. "I'm proud of you boys," she said, quickly. "Very proud of you." Then she followed Sakuno, before her boys could do more than look surprised and things got more maudlin than they already were.
In the car, Sakuno asked, "Is it always this hard?"
"Some years are harder than others," Sumire told her, watching the group of five--no, six, counting Kawamura, whose father had just waved him out of the restaurant after his teammates--head down the road together. "This was one of the hardest ones yet."
"I'm going to miss them," Sakuno volunteered.
"Me, too," Sumire agreed, and turned the car towards home.
end