a/n: Credit for this story goes to Neon Genesis. She was the one who came up with the plot bunny. I just tweaked it around for a little bit.

Inspiration for this came from "The Truth About Forever". :)

Last Chance

1. the meeting

The day that Kasamatsu Haruka walked into the class of 3-1, she wanted to leave as soon as she saw the seating arrangements.

To the right of her was Yukimura Seiichi. She couldn't imagine a worse person to sit next to. Her back began to itch at the sight of the senior - as if she was instantly allergic to Mr. Perfect or something.

Still. She took a breath, and hung her book bag on the hook attached to the left side of her desk.

He was reading a tennis magazine, his true blue eyes deeply immersed in an article. As always, his uniform was pristine and his wavy blue hair covered his ears, accentuating his good looks.

At the sound of her footsteps he looked up and recognized her. "Good morning, Kasamatsu-san." He gave her a polite smile.

"Good morning," she said, hoping she didn't sound bitter - or worse, stiff. She took her seat and after a few minutes, looked around to see who else was in her class...

... and found no one she knew. Joy.

Okay, so it was bad that all of her friends for her final year of high school weren't in her class. But did she really have to sit next to some guy who was, like, perfect?

Part of her knew she was being sort of petty. After it wasn't his fault that he was a Tennis God and took his team to Nationals five times in a row.

And of course, let's not mention his stellar grades, enough admirers for him to have a legit reason for being absent on Valentines Day, and his dedication to the arts committee where his paintings always won first place because he was just obnoxious like that.

She scowled as a few girls came up to talk to chatter in excited tones to the blue haired boy next to her. Apparently looking like a girl also meant you would attract the same thing.

I think this year is going to suck, she thought to herself.

-x-

"She's number forty three of our class, part of the Music Club and participates in Student Council." Yanagi read him a short description. One of his eyebrow was raised. "Seichii, what's so interesting about her?"

"I'm sitting next to her in class." Yukimura said thoughtfully. "Her brother used to be the valedictorian until he graduated last year."

"I see," Yanagi said. It was definitely unusual for his captain to take any notice of most girls in the school - the few exceptions had been Yukimura's sister and her friends on the girl's tennis team. But they, at least, were rational people and would not willingly distract Yukimura from normal practice after school.

"But anyways..." Yukimura frowned for a moment, remembering Kasamatsu's tense stance at the time where he had greeted her that morning. "... She seemed to dislike me. Or something like that."

"Maybe you're reading too much into this."

"I might have," Yukimura conceded with a tiny little sigh that anyone else than Renji would have dismissed as regal exasperation. "See any freshmen with potential, Renji?"

They were sitting at the tennis court bleachers in their tennis jerseys while Marui and Jackal were busy handing out club slips for the incoming freshmen.

"I doubt it. There is an eighty percent chance that a half a month later, they'll quit."

"I would have imagined so, considering our training regimen..."

-x-

What mostly bothered Haruka about him was his ways of pushing around a person. Yukimura wasn't the sort that outwardly threatened people to do something - but if he insinuated it, there was no other possibility than following his command. He wasn't manipulative, but he had a certain look, sometimes, that made her feel as if the people he were talking to were beneath his notice. Like he was above other people.

It sounded stupid in her head. As soon as she tried justifying why she instinctively disliked Yukimura Seiichi, it sounded terribly childish and stupid. So at that, Haruka tried to forget about it and then looked at the sky.

The April weather in the Kanagawa prefecture was promising to be rainy and cold. She hummed an energetic little tune - the third movement of Brahm's Symphony No. 4 - which also happened to be her audition cut to a chair test later that week. She had to get home quickly so that she'd be on time for a lesson. She covered her head with her book bag and walked out of the school entrance gates.

Haruka hadn't noticed, but Yukimura had been hiding under a black umbrella, quietly smiling after he'd recognized the quirky, slightly out of tune arrangement of his favorite piece.

-x-

"Good morning, Kasamatsu-san," he addressed her the next day.

"Good morning," she said, barely meeting his eyes. She took her seat next to him.

"Wasn't the weather awful yesterday?"

"It was."

And, out of the blue -

"Do you like classical music?" he said in his soft voice, almost feminine.

She glanced at him for a second, and then took out her notebooks. "Yes... What of it?" she asked, and her voice came out sharper than she intended.

Yet Yukimura's cheerful expression didn't falter at all. "Oh, nothing. I just thought it was interesting."

One of Haruka's eyebrows were raised. "You don't seem to be the type to be interested in classical music."

At this he could have informed her that his parents had been worried that his intense focus on tennis would be unhealthy. As a result, he'd taken up gardening and painting as side-projects, which then grew into a deep appreciation for nature and arts. Later, this evolved into a love of classical music.

The first piece of music he listened to after the doctors dropped the bombshell that he might be unable to play tennis was the finale of Shostakovitch's Symphony No. 5. It'd become one of his favorites after he was deeply upset. It was loud - and chaotic.

Looking at Haruka, he was thinking about this, but he didn't tell her about it. He only smiled and said, "I suppose not."

The bell rung, ending the short conversation.

The thing with Yukimura Seiichi was that he instinctively knew when a person kept their guards up. He'd gotten the feeling that she'd open up someday, but not now.

As for Haruka, she'd resisted the urge to scratch her neck. Annoyance flowed through her. She'd thought he'd been smirking at her for some reason.

-x-

Haruka had countless friends who'd been declined (politely, of course) by the likes of Yukimura Seiichi. Which was fine; understandable really. He had commitments, like taking the tennis team all the way to Nationals. He also was in the arts committee and the horticulture club, where his charismatic personality made him the undisputed leader in those groups. These were commitments which demanded his time and attention, not ones where you could simply push away to make room for a girlfriend.

But to her friends, he was charming. He was intelligent. He was respectful towards everybody. He was good looking, with a pretty face and a smile that could melt even the coldest heart. They liked the idea of dating a beautiful boy who seemed to be perfect in every way. But with every confession that inevitably happened each year, he would always say No, I'm sorry. I don't deserve your feelings.

"They're trained like dogs to a faithful master," her friend commented once, and two were sitting on the lunch rooftop a month later, watching the tennis courts in action. She was referring to the tennis team and how they looked up to Yukimura. His jersey was resting on his shoulders and even Haruka had to admit Yukimura looked rather intimidating from a distance. Sanada was barking out commands to the non-regulars.

"He's just a guy," Haruka mumbled. "Why is everyone in love with him?"

"Oh I don't know," her friend said with a cheeky grin. "Maybe it's because he's too good to be true."

"Maybe he's not that good. He could be like, I don't know, a serial killer or something."

"A good looking serial killer," her friend pointed out with a giggle. "Sa-woon," she said, a hand on her forehead, and Haruka had to smile at her friend's antics.

"So what's your problem with him, anyways?"

"I don't know," Haruka shrugged. "I just... The whole worshiping him just because he's won a few National games is kind of stupid."

"But he's really nice and really hot and smart. How do you like, not be totally attracted to him?"

"He's too perfect," Haruka said. "I mean, god. There should be a limit to that kind of thing."

-x-

"We are sorry for the inconvenience, but this train has been delayed due to an accident..."

"Damn it," Haruka swore. Just when things couldn't get any better, they had to get worse. And her private lesson teacher - who happened to be a sixty-year old man that rarely smiled - would not look upon her tardiness kindly.

"That's not something a lady should say," someone remarked. She whipped her head around, and of course it had to be Mr. Perfect standing behind her on that particular train compartment.

"What are you doing here?" she shot back.

"On my way to a tennis club," Yukimura said lightly. He'd been in the middle of reading something, but he had put his book away once he saw Kasamatsu Haruka with a violin case on one hand and a folder presumably containing sheet music in another. "The weather's been terrible lately, so," and at this he shrugged. "I have to practice somewhere, and the best clubs are downtown."

He was dressed in his tennis uniform, bearing the yellow and black colors of Rikkaidai Fuzoku. She hated to admit it - but he looked pretty good in athletic clothes.

"What are you doing here?"

"Private lesson," Haruka mumbled. She gestured to her instrument case. "I play the violin."

"So I see," he said, his eyes lovely and so blue and looking so interested that she couldn't help looking at him. "What's the problem?"

"I'm late."

"Maybe you should talk to whoever you're meeting and drop him a quick call," Yukimura suggested.

"He doesn't take phone calls," she said flatly. "I might as well go home at this point."

"Why doesn't he take phone calls?"

"Because," she said with a puff of air blowing her bangs upward. "He's a perfectionist. He thinks that every lesson I'm attending is kind of a mini-concert. So basically, if I'm late even for a minute, then he'll close up on me. No exceptions."

"What I really hate about him though," Haruka continued, "is the fact that everything has to be perfect. I mean, that's so boring."

"Boring, you say?"

"Yeah," she said defensively, as if he was refuting the validity of her words. "Boring."

"Striving for perfection isn't too bad, though," Yukimura said, and his eyes lingered on her scar that was noticeable on her eyebrow. "After all, the point of living is to make progress."

"Well." She glanced at her watch. "In the meantime of waiting for this stupid train to move, we could play a game. You know. If you really wanted to know about my scar."

He was intrigued. "What kind of game?"

"Truth."

"What kind of game is that?"

She smiled. "Basically, in Truth, there's only one rule - you have to tell the truth."

"How do you win?"

Haruka almost snorted out loud. "That is such a boy question."

"Well, it's a valid one."

"You win if there's a question I can't answer. Simple."

Yukimura thought about it, and then he said, "That's got to be too easy."

"Well, that's why you have to ask hard questions."

"Okay. I'll play. Ask me a question."

Haruka thought about it. "What's your favorite color?"

Yukimura frowned. "Don't coddle me. Ask me a harder question."

"Okay... What's your biggest fear?" Haruka had asked this question without really thinking about it. But Yukimura Seiichi took it seriously, as if the teacher had asked him a question in class and he was expected to answer it to the best of his ability.

"Not being able to move," he said after a few moments. Haruka looked at him curiously. "I used to have the Guillain-Barre syndrome. It paralyzed me to the point of not being able to walk. It was the scariest thing in the world, not being able to move your own body."

She didn't know.

"So," Yukimura continued, after she said nothing to respond, "What's up with your scar?"

"My brother hit me with a shovel," she said. When he raised his eyebrow, she elaborated, "I was twelve when it happened. It was like, snowing, and we were fighting over who got to shovel the snow out of the driveway. So my brother accidentally struck my head with the metal part, and it gushed out blood. My mom freaked out."

He smiled. "I see."

"My turn," Haruka said. "What's it like to have girls swooning over you?"

Yukimura sighed. "I don't know."

"The name of the game," Haruka clarified, "is Truth. See that lady next to you? She's been ogling you this entire time."

He gave her an annoyed glance. "Fine. The truth is, I don't like it. Because ninety percent of the time, I don't even know their names or what they're like in real life. So whenever they try to confess to me, I keep thinking about all the reasons why it wouldn't work out."

Whatever the answer Haruka had been expecting, it wasn't this. "I'd thought it was because you didn't have time to date," she said.

"Nah, not really. It's just... " Yukimura paused for a moment, deciding on the right words. "... I already have a girlfriend. So accepting their confessions would be out of the question, don't you think?"

Oh. Of course a guy like him had a girlfriend, Haruka reminded herself, and decided she wasn't disappointed at all. Nope.

Then he asked, "Why do you hate perfection?"

"I don't."

"But you hate your private lesson teacher for being perfect."

"That's different," Haruka said. She thought about it. "I don't hate perfection. I just don't - you know, seek it out purposely."

"Really."

"Yes, really."

"Oh," Yukimura said. "Well, that's too bad."

She had to admit his eyes were expressive. In certain moments they could show twinkling amusement, and in another they could slice through metal, harsh and unyielding. She wasn't sure what to make out of it.

Now they were looking at each other, and Haruka had no idea why she was certain that Yukimura Seiichi was being honest with her. Certainly, in the game of Truth there were bound to be moments of omitting certain unpleasant memories. But with one look, and she could tell every word he'd uttered was admitted comfortably, and what was even weirder, he was being genuine about it. Not show-offy or anything.

He must really like winning, she mused. So she asked him another question. "So, now that we're on the subject of perfection... What's it like for you?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Oh, come on. You're like, the Child of God and captain of the tennis team. You're the guy who's got the looks, athleticism, and everything - "

"And you're just the cool, opinionated girl who's got a scar on her eyebrow." he interrupted with a wicked grin on his face. "The whole package, right?"

"You're the boy all the girls want to take home to their parents," Haruka retorted.

"And you're probably the girl in homeroom who never gives a guy the time of day."

"I am not," she said, and it irked her that she was picking a stupid fight with Mr. Perfect in broad daylight. It wasn't fair that he always had the final word.

He chuckled, and she hadn't ever noticed how beautiful that sound was. It was warm. Rich. And genuine. She scowled at him, but it only seemed to encourage him to smile wider.

"So, does a girl like you have a boyfriend?"

"Me? No. Why would you ask that?"

"I thought girls were self-conscious of that kind of thing. You know, since this is a game of Truth. And all."

"Oh, I forget. You want to win."

His smile was warm. "Of course. Winning is my forte. So go on, think of a hard question."

"What's your girlfriend like?" Not that Haruka actually cared, because she didn't. But she thought that maybe it'd be too personal of a question.

It wasn't. "Sweet. Nice. Kind of insecure, actually, when I think about it. We met at a tennis tournament."

"Oh."

"What were you expecting?"

"Some supermodel who happened to be a total genius on the tennis courts," Haruka said, which was not too far from the truth. A Mrs. Perfect to complement Mr. Perfect.

"Just because someone shares interests with you doesn't mean they're compatible with you," Yukimura said, shrugging. "I mean, I'm just as fine dating someone who hasn't been playing tennis at all. It's just an aspect of who I am. Tennis isn't the whole of me, you know?"

She considered it. "I wouldn't know. I don't think I could date a guy who couldn't tell the difference between Shostokovich and Tchaikovsky."

"Technically, they're not that different. Maybe they've composed in different time periods, but they're both very Russian. And they both fought against the political regimes of their day."

"So you play tennis, garden, paint, and listen to classical music. What else do you do?"

"Homework?" Yukimura suggested. "Sleep? Eat? Run?"

She made a face. "You know what I mean."

The train started moving, and Haruka was surprised to find out that the time had gone by so quickly. For some reason, she had really liked talking to Yukimura Seiichi, who seemed to be humble and actually not that condescending.

"Well, I hate to leave this game unfinished, but this is my stop," Yukimura said pleasantly. "It was nice talking to you, Kasamatsu-san."

"We can continue it later, Yukimura-san. You too."

He smiled at her, and then got off the train.

It was weird. For once, he'd been the kind of guy she would have personally wanted to go on a da-

She refused to finish that sentence. After all, he had a girlfriend.

a/n: So like, I decided not going to be a one-shot simply 'cause I want more reviews. ;) haha.

So please tell me what you think of the story. C: