Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis.
Summary: Why does Sumire get all dressed up, wearing that red dress when Nanjiroh leave for USA? Looks like 'The Samurai' had the last laugh as his coach lets go of her best student.
Sumire Ryuzaki was cursing herself. Why on Earth did she make that bet? Oh yeah, she snorted to herself, she thought he couldn't do it. She should have known better. She had underestimated him, again. That caused her to cringe as she opened her wardrobe with resignation.
~FlashbacK~
She stood infront of the young man. He was fresh out of high school and still had that air about him. That glint in his eyes that said he wasn't going to be defeated. Not now, not ever.
Sumire sighed and masseged her temples. The boy had just told her his plans. He was going to America to go pro.
It was not that she doubted him, by all means she knew better than anyone else he had what it took. He had the power, the talent and the sheer potential to take over the tennis world. As his coach, she knew. But he lacked a certain maturity, a certain drive. he only played at his fill potential when he was pushed too hard or angry. Or when he wanted to mock someone. That was fine during the lower levels of the sport, but not the pro league.
'It's going to get his dreams shattered,' Sumire thought, slightly discouraged as she stared at his cheesy grin.
"What?" he demanded when he notices her less than estatic response, "Don't thnk I can do it?" His eyes were flashing as he excluded a cocky attitude.
Sumire smirked at her student, her prodigy and said the one thing that would get him fired up, "You? You wouldn't even be able to leave Japan let alone play in America. Walk before you learn how to fly, brat."
"Wanna bet?" Nanjiroh asked, golden eyes flashing in the sunlight. "I'll win the tournaments in Japan and use the prize money to go to America. If I don't leave Japan in one year, I'll become your assistent coach."
"Oh?" Sumire replied, eyebrow raised at the bet. She hadn't been serious about making his her assistant, she just wanted to help him mature his game so Nanjiroh could take on the world and win. Not to have his talent wasted and lost in demotivation by losses.
"And if I do leave in a year," Nanjiroh continued, his lips forming his trademark smirk, "You have to wear what I give you for the day I leave."
~End Flashback~
And that was how, Sumire found herself forgoing her normal sweats and jacket for a red dress. For the Red Dress. The dress that hugged every curve and nook of her body and somehow made her look younger than she was. Staring in the mirror, she couldn't help but grudgingly acknowdge that the brat had taste as slightly skimpy dress looked good on her.
'Well,' she thought as she reached for her hair iron, 'in for the penny, in for the pound.'
And she got to work curling her hair, with a small smile on her lips.
'He played in tournaments back to back for almost seven months, He saved his money and learnt from every defeat. Defeats that got rarer and rarer with every match.' She paused as she stared at her reflection, her eyes slightly sad, 'He matured on his own. He never did need me. And now he's going after the world.'
Finishing her hair, Sumire reached for her small bag of make-up. 'And I know he can do it. I can only support from afar now. I suppose I should he grateful to know that I trained a player that went pro.'
Finally done, Sumire looked the in mirror and didn't recognise the person staring back.
The clock chimed, reminding her that she needed to hurry or she was going to be late. And aeroplanes wait for no one. Grabbing her matching handbag, she paused as she opened it and checked that the piece of paper was still in there.
Nodding in approval, her curls bouncing, Sumire slipped on the new pair of heels and left her apartment. The note may mean little to Nanjiroh but it held all her wishes for her favourite student.
'Catching a cab had never been so easy,' she thought as she arrived at the airport. She tried to ignore the stares from everyone. Males and females alike. Mentally cursing Nanjiroh, Sumire ignored the disapproval of her scandalous dressing in daylight public.
Arriving at the gate, she looked around for Nanjiroh, only to sigh as she spotted the floral style button up shirt amongst the conservatively dressed masses. And the telltale sign of dark green hair in a high pony tail.
"Nanjiroh!" she called.
The tall firgure turned around, shorts and sandles completed his look with a sack-bag over his shoulder. As she watched his lips grow into a lecherous smile, she sighed and willed herself not to hit him so hard that he would get a concussion.
"Old hag!" he called, "who knew you were so old and hag-ish?"
Sumire gribbed her handbag tighter as he stepped within striking zone.
"Red suits you," he complimented with an easy smile. But his eyes were at the board. She could see he was eagerly awaiting his boarding call.
Sumire nodded but said nothing.
"Sometimes," Nanjiroh said quietly afterall a while, "I can't believe that I"m finally going. I'm going to play in America."
Sumire smiled slightly, "You were meant to go pro. Anything else would have been an insult to your skills. I was just worried you weren't mature enough to handle the level of competition," she admitted.
"And now?" he asked, cockily. Sumire rolled her eyes at him but she held his gaze with a sincere fondness.
"You've grown. You've matured while playing here in the last seven months."
Nanjiroh looked away from her and stayed silent for a moment. Clearing his throat, he looked at her, a slight blush on his cheeks, "We need a photo. I want proof of you wearing that dress!" he proclaimed loudly. Quickly, he dug in his bag and pulled out a camera, only to accost a stranger to take their picture.
Sumire smiled for the photo. Not for the bet but for the memory.
"I want a copy of that," she said casually as she opened her bag for the slip of paper.
"Eh?" Nanjiroh asked confused.
"So I can show off my student that went pro and won the Grand Slam."
Nanjiroh jerked around to stare at his old coach. Sumire smiled slightly sadly as she offered him the piece of paper.
"You better get going," she added, "you're flight is boarding."
"Ah," Nanjiroh stared at the note, still folded, "yeah."
Opening the note, he grinned at the familiar handwriting that penned the one word.
'Fly!'
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~Amira