Phoenix
Hey, it's D27H. This is the second part of Hot Chocolate Hearts. As you already know, Prince of Tennis is not my manga and the characters are not mine either. Phoenix has a totally different mood from HCH, but I hope you will still enjoy it.
Prologue
It's an unusually cold mid-spring day. The clouds are low and heavy, threatening rain. There is a surprisingly little amount of people on the city streets. Bright lights and advertisements screaming out their products are everywhere.
A young girl with auburn hair is walking down the street, glancing up occasionally to make sure that no lightning has started flashing. In front of her is an older woman wearing a blue and white jacket. The older woman is grumbling about the chill and the cold, despite the fact that her jacket is much thicker than the younger girl's.
"Damn! I forgot to bring an umbrella." the older woman growls as distant thunder rumbles. The young girl nods and stops in front of a small shop.
"We can get one here, Grandmother." she says, looking over the colorful display. "Look, that one is pretty cheap." The umbrella in question is a flimsy blue thing.
The grandmother shrugs. "It's probably going to break right when we get home, but in the meantime..."
Almost as if on cue, the rain starts coming down, first in a light, fuzzy drizzle and escalating into thick sheets of water falling from the heavens. Quickly, the young girl hands over the money for two umbrellas, one gray and one blue. She hands the blue one to her grandmother, who thanks her. Together, they walk down the street.
"Hey, do you think we can visit Seishun Gakuen again?" the young girl asks. Her grandmother thinks.
"I think it's safe now, but I don't know. Let's see." the grandmother muses. "And besides, you're going to be a first year in high school in a little while! You have to take studies seriously. You've always been a smart girl, but high school is much harder than middle school. Remember that."
"Hai." the girl says.
There is silence for the next couple of minutes. It's a long way back home, for the two, and with the young girl warning her to watch her steps every couple of minutes and the frustratingly slow streetlights of a work day, the time stretches out for even longer. After the fifth red crossing light they stop at, the grandmother sighs deeply and turns left. The young girl yelps and hurries after her. "Grandmother! Where are you going?"
"This is an alternate path that I found on my way back from the tennis courts. It takes a little longer, but there aren't any godforsaken traffic lights here." the grandmother says. The young girl does not argue, but her steps are tentative.
In this area, there are fewer people than on the main street. The grandmother complains about the trash next to the buildings. Indeed, there is a lot of garbage strewn about; a toy horse is rocking pathetically next to one of the few trash cans, a torn-open plastic bag lies on its side, rotting vegetables spilling out, a dirty rag flutters from a random hook in the wall. The young girl looks around uncomfortably.
Soon, the pair reaches a large gap between two buildings. The grandmother peers down the long alley and starts down it. For the first time, the young girl grabs her sleeve and whispers her objections.
"Ah, you're too careful. Our building is right down the street." the grandmother tells her.
The young girl can see bright light seeping in from the other side of the alley and, biting her lip, follows her grandmother down the alley.
About halfway down, another little path deviates off from the main one. It's more of a crack in the wall than a path, with dirt and grime all over the ground and weeds gasping for air from the space between the concrete and the building. At the end of this path, there is a door with a black steel fence covering it. The grandmother glances at the path and moves on.
They are almost out of the alley when suddenly, something hits the young girl. Hard. The air in her lungs is punched out and she falls forward. Her grandmother whirls around to see the attacker.
Something flies out of nowhere and hits the young girl in the forehead, rendering her unconscious. Right before she is completely lost, however, she can hear her grandmother shouting, "It was you, wasn't it?"
When the girl finally wakes up, hours later, there is a group of people around her. "The poor thing," a tearful woman is murmuring.
The young girl sits up. "What-"
Then she sees the blood sprayed across the dirty cement, the still body of her grandmother, the rusty crowbar. Her hand slowly rises up to her mouth. A man notices her looking and moves to block her. She pushes him aside, along with numerous other people and two policemen, and crouches besides her grandmother. Her barely controlled sniffles now erupt in full-blown wails.
And for the first time in years, she thinks of the boy with the golden eyes.