Title: The Evolution of Ryuuzaki Sakuno, by ezylrybbit
Rated: PG-13. Profanity, darlings. And that darned abusive writing style.
Summary: So this is what happened to girl power. A Ryoma/OC/Sakuno like story.
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chapter one - and you'll hear me coming from a mile away
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I don't think I've ever been really passionate about anything. There's never been anything I'd live to die for. Never anything really worth it. I've never felt the need to justify any of my actions—I've always been the kind of guy to go along with it and object if my personal interest was at harm. I guess people would call me narcissistic. It's only to a degree. And after that degree, I can honestly say that I don't give a shit.
Tennis is different.
Seishun High School Tennis Club Application Form
(Please print clearly)
Name: Takagi Yuuki
Age: 16
Grade level: second-year
Interests? Tennis. Watching Wimbledon. Chemistry.
Conflicts with tennis club? Science Bowl and film club.
Did you attend Seishun Gakuen? No. Transferred from Fukagawa Chuu in Hokkaido.
The application form went on. Some stuff about medical insurance and tennis achievements, and a few questions regarding grades and parents, the usual things that nosy high school tennis clubs have to figure out about you before you even try out. Same old, same old. I fill out the rest of the paper and jam it back into the book bag, reaching for my new chemistry textbook.
I would never miss my old school. My class had been more dysfunctional and likely to spontaneously combust than the national prison. All the girls wanted nothing better than to get into your pants and all the guys chose soccer over tennis, calling me a pussy and a manwhore for the unintentional seduction of their girlfriends. (It wasn't strictly true—I'd only slept with Kishimoto's girl twice. She kept pushing herself on me and there's only a few times a guy can think straight before he's forced to go forward with it and fuck a girl. Especially if she's got nice boobs and cute hair.)
So call me a player. I am one. For the three years I've attended Fukagawa Chuu, I'd had no steady girlfriend and thirty overzealous individuals who listed me as their boyfriend. I knew only the surnames of half of them.
And to most of the male population's greater dismay, I was the best tennis player there. It hardly took any effort to become buchou over twenty or so freshman brats. The girls loved me because I was indifferent to their charms and careful flattery. I had four devoted fanclubs –three more on the fence– and a kissing booth at the school fair all to myself. There were the advanced-placement classes, too. I was top in the Chemistry department and I went to the National Science Bowl last year and earned a solo prize in quantum mechanics.
Imagine their surprise, then, when I decided to throw that all away and transfer into Seishun High. Kishimoto's girlfriend stalked me into Tokyo on the bullet train before I was forced to phone the metropolitan police station.
There wasn't a specific reason, I don't think. Just got bored of the whole lot. Seishun's supposed to be really good, anyway, and when my dad got a job transfer into Aoyama, I went along with him.
I took off my glasses, gave the lenses a good rub with my shirt, and leaned back on my chair. Two more days until the beginning of my second year in high school. Ranking tournament tomorrow, according to that stony-cold team-captain who kept twitching every time the smiling brunette next to him pinched his ass. Seishun High's standards are apparently quite high, and the tennis club regulars they had won the Nationals in junior high. I doubt I'd be disappointed.
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There's a certain subtlety in pre-game anxiety vibes. For me, they almost always start at the toes, and work their way up my body until I'm locked tight and I can only wheeze like a fish out of water. You learn to conquer those over the years, but as I take one look at the sign-up sheet, I know I'm in trouble. In the D-box on the games-chart, next to the words Takagi Yuuki, in a neat scrawl—Echizen Ryoma.
What do I know about Echizen Ryoma?
Nothing, really. Save for the fact that he's fucking famous. The junior league championships in America? The All-Japan juniors? Featured in Gekkan Pro Tennis in about fifty million issues? Fangirls and pedophiles buy prints of his face and parts of his body on dirty calendars, in sets of dozens. Samurai Junior, they call him.
I think my heart's going to stop.
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I lost. In the first ranking match, I lost to the first year. I didn't expect to do any better…as it was Echizen—I caught as much from the squealing and the bellowing from the sidelines. He's got this mean Twist Serve that creeps up on you. It near as hell hit me in the face. I thought my Higuma Otoshi would be difficult to deal with, but that kid didn't even flinch as he sped effortlessly all the way to the back of the court in split-steps.
"Game, set, Echizen. Six games to love."
He wasn't even sweating, and when he shook my hand with a casual smirk, I had the feeling that he didn't even bother to use any of his good moves on me.
These people were mad.
As I sat back down on the bleacher, the one guy I did manage to win over in my second match, and by a tie-break filled with mind-numbing Dunk Smashes that were still vibrating through my arm, ran over to my bench and handed me a bottle of water, "Hey, Takagi, right?"
I nodded, "And you're Momoshiro. You've got a great smash."
"You've seen nothing. I didn't feel like using the Super Momo Special today." Momoshiro grinned, "And you can just call me Momo. Are you a second year, too?"
"Yeah. I'm still an amateur in tennis, though. I've never experienced anything close to this intimidating, before." I tried to smile. There was a muscle cramp in my leg from returning his smashes.
"That's not the point. You can do a Higuma Otoshi! Imagine that! I've only seen two other people in my entire life who've done one. That doesn't count Echizen, of course. When that little brat's in his game mode, he can do anything…"
"Only two?" I was aghast. What the hell? "Back home in Hokkaido, I was the only one around for miles who could perform that move!"
Momo shrugged, "You get used to it, here. Though I'd dare say that your Higuma's better than Oshitari's from Hyotei. And your serve, come to think of it. Eiji-senpai told me that you put a nice spin on the ball. He's got good eyes."
"Is that the brunette?" I asked, thinking about the guy who had gone down to the tennis buchou with only one point in every game. He had been observing my match with Echizen in a polite, unnerving expression that radiated an unrecognizable presence.
"Hell, no." Momo laughed, "That's Fuji-senpai. He's a genius and he's got the most bizarre tastes. I saw him eat cactus flesh for lunch the other day. He's got a roomful of cacti, I heard. Kikumaru Eiji-senpai's the one with red hair. He thinks he's a cat, most of the time, and the rest of the time he's cuddling teddy bears."
I raised my brows. These guys were nearly as whacked-out as my old tennis team. Images of my old teammates appeared in my head. I blocked them out of my mind as Momoshiro continued to ramble about toothpaste brands and Fuji's oddities.
"So what about the rest of the team?"
"Well, right now there's Tezuka-buchou, Oishi-fukubuchou, Fuji-senpai, Eiji-senpai, you, Kaidoh, and Echizen. Oishi-senpai and Kikumaru-senpai…they're our Golden Pair. Tezuka, Fuji-senpai, and Echizen usually play the singles spots. That means you'll have to team up with Kaidoh. He's an annoying as hell, I'm warning you."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Annoying as hell, that mamushi," Momo said enthusiastically, "he hisses."
"I see," I said.
"We used to have nine members," Momo scratched his head absent-mindedly, "that was in junior high. Then Taka-san quit tennis 'cause he wanted to help his dad fulltime with sushi-making. Kawamura Sushi still gives us great discounts, anyway.
"And Inui-senpai wanted to focus on Physics this year, so he quit, too. He says he wants to study engineering at Tokyo College. I think he'll blow up the first thing he builds with Aozu. Hey, do you want to go grab a hamburger later?"
"Is it over already?" I looked around the tennis courts. Most of the people were packing up, and there was now a crowd of girls circled around the Echizen boy.
"Well, I'm not gonna stay any longer," Momo said, "I'm hungry."
"Alright, then," I shouldered my tennis bag, "where to?"
But Momo had already become distracted. "Oi! Ryuu-chan, wait up!" He called, and a feminine-looking boy walking in front of us stopped in his steps, stooping over to tie his shoes. He looked about fourteen or fifteen, brown hair tied back in a small ponytail.
"What's up, Momo-chan-senpai? Got your sorry ass kicked in the tournament for once?" He grinned, when we caught up with him. He had a wide grin and a baseball cap on backwards, clad in a tennis uniform that I had never seen before. He took one look at me and clicked his tongue. "Oh, are you Momo's new handbag? I'm Ryuu, freshman here."
"Handbag?" I asked, bewildered.
Momo rolled his eyes, "This is Takagi. He's the new regular on the tennis team. We're switching places for a while. He beat me in the ranking tournament. Will you believe it?"
"Strangely, I do," Ryuu said, "are you guys going to get a burger together? Watch out, Takagi. Momo's a monster when it comes to eating."
"Shut up," Momoshiro said.
"And he doesn't even have the grace to look embarrassed!" the boy added, smiling happily. He looked remarkably cute for a first year. "I've got to go meet up with Sachika-chan, now. Can't keep the girls waiting…" He wiggled his fingers cheekily.
"Be gone, pest," Momo waved. I waved, too, though I'm not sure why.
"And don't worry too much about the handbag thing;" Momo muttered to me, "Ryuu's just weird like that."
I nodded. There's a funky one in every bag of beans.
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TBC.
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So what'd you think? It's awful, isn't it. XD By all means, maul me with your thoughts.