LEARNING TO FLY

Ch. 1: Looming Clouds

No one had any idea what Coach Ryuuzaki wanted when she called me and Tezuka Kunimitsu of all people to her office during lunch break. Being Captain of the Boys' Tennis Team, he probably waltzed in there every day, but the contact I had with the coach our clubs supposedly shared was minimal. Unlike his, my team wasn't a nationally acclaimed source of future top professionals and therefore got much less attention. Seishun Gakuen's Girls' Tennis Team was a mistake, a mark on the school's shining name to be hidden away.

I was at the receiving end of many an envious stare when I marched out of the classroom just a pace or two behind Tezuka. Two tennis team captains called upon together to fulfill some glorious duty, walking side by side, regality and authority swilling around them in a near-visible haze… Or so my classmates might have thought as they stared, still clutching bentos and chopsticks. If they would only care to take off their rose-colored glasses, they would see the reality of the situation, and realize that to put Tezuka and me in remotely the same category was only marginally short of blasphemous.

Tezuka, for one, was more aware of this than these outsiders. He strode ahead, only permitting me a view of his back as his longer legs carried him away. A full foot and a half shorter than him, I had to break into a trot to keep up. The silence stretched between us and tautened like steel cables—or was I the only one who felt the tension, staring after his sturdy muscled frame which nevertheless moved with a graceful fluidity and a rhythm in tune with the gentle swaying of his wispy brown hair, while he had yet to even look at me?

Arriving before the coach's door, he didn't wait for me to catch up before knocking and entering. His hand lingered on the doorknob after he'd gone in, and I thought he might be holding the door open for me. Or maybe he was just used to opening doors that way.

We found Coach Ryuuzaki sitting behind her desk, a folded slip of paper in one hand. I was taken aback at the expression she wore; it was the one she put on when briefing the boys' team about and upcoming tournament. For a moment I wondered whether that might be the reason why she'd summoned us captains. This fantasy burst in an instant: the girls' team had never participated in an external tournament, not once in the five years since its establishment.

"You wished to see us, Coach Ryuuzaki?" Tezuka inquired, his tone unpresuming.

The coach grunted an affirmative. "I recently received a letter." She held up the slip of paper. "It's from a certain Coach Sasaki, who claims to train Hyotei's tennis teams."

Curiously, the coach seemed to be mainly speaking to me. But I knew only two things about Hyotei, one being that it was one of Seigaku's more prominent rivals in boys' tennis. I could catch no implication of such a letter. Shooting a glance at Tezuka, I saw nothing more than his impassive face. Apparently, he was neither surprised nor interested by the coach's announcement. Maybe this was a regular occurrence?

"Apparently Hyotei's principal thinks it would be beneficial to both his school and ours if our tennis clubs participated in a joint-school event of some sort." Coach Ryuuzaki grimaced slightly. "Public relations, of course. Typical Hyotei. They've finally wised up to the fact that if they keep going along the same track they've been following, they'll eventually get saddled with the same kind of reputation as Rikkai. Bad news, considering the backgrounds of most of their students. They want to be seen as elite and competitive, but not ruthless. It's not a very favorable trait for businessmen to appear to have."

I nodded slowly with dawning comprehension. The other thing I knew about Hyotei was that concerns had been raised recently over originally healthy competition turning ugly in the prestigious school's tennis teams. Something about a training revolution initiated by its new coach. This Sasaki was probably the 'new coach' in question.

"As to why Hyotei proposed this to Seigaku, I can only guess. Most likely they see us as one of the few schools in this area remotely close to their caliber. And our teams have rubbed shoulders with theirs often enough to be reasonably able to stand each other—theoretically, anyway. Do either of you personally know any Hyotei players?"

Tezuka replied that he was acquainted with the ones he had played matches against, and had through them met some others. I could only answer a stiff, "No, I don't."

"That should simplify matters," Coach Ryuzaki nodded, satisfied. Presumably she was responding to Tezuka's answer, since I couldn't see how my lack of a social network outside Seigaku simplified anything. "Our principal is in full support of the idea and has given us the green light to carry it out."

I nodded again. Accepting Hyotei's proposal no only created an excellent opportunity to propagate the impression of friendliness, but it was also a legitimate means for Seigaku's boys' team to test its strength against a major rival. If the rumors about the high probability of our team reaching the nationals this year were to be believed, it was unsurprising that the school jumped at ever chance to prepare it.

"As of now, the only thing that has been decided is that the event will take place roughly a month later. Otherwise, it is to be almost entirely student-controlled, so the four clubs will have to get together and—"

Wait.

"Excuse me," I interrupted, my voice embarrassingly shrill. "When you say 'the four clubs', do you mean the boys' and the girls' clubs from both Seigaku and—"

Coach Ryuuzaki smiled in amusement and…some other emotion I couldn't quite pin down. If I hadn't known better, I might have suspected she was proud. "Of course I do," she said pleasantly. "Why else do you think you're here?"

Her monkey wrench of a rhetorical question brought the gears in my head clanging to a halt. For a moment, I was literally at a loss for words. "I thought…never mind," I murmured. I couldn't possibly say that I'd only expected to be involved in the planning was a temporary assistant club manager of some sort, or perhaps that she'd wanted to mobilize the girls' club to help out. It hadn't even crossed my mind that my team would be allowed to participate as an actual team. The realization twisted my insides in a mixture of shame and resentment—a complete lack of pride in my team was deplorable, but since when had anyone given me space to cultivate such pride?

By the time I'd finished dwelling on this, Coach Ryuuzaki had long since brushed aside my awkwardness and was already wrapping up her briefing. She made it clear that while both she and Coach Sasaki would be available for consultation should the need arise, but that we students were expected to cope with most complications on our own. This struck me as a suspiciously big leap in our responsibilities, and it must have showed on my face, because she added before dismissing us, "You've both been leaders for a while, not to mention Third Years. You should know how to handle this sort of thing, and if you don't, it's high time you learned."

Which was all very well for Tezuka; he'd been juggling stuff like this and playing management acrobatics since becoming vice-captain last year. I, on the other and, was made Captain right off the bat, and seeing as my club seldom (all right, never) took part in anything qualifying as a 'major event', had next to no (all right, actually no) experiences or capabilities in this form of leadership. Or any other, for that matter. Let's not forget that what the school had in mind this time went way beyond internal ranking matches. A joint-school event aimed at showcasing our teams? Cooperating with the elite Hyotei? If Seigaku wanted the thing to be a complete and utter failure, they couldn't have chosen better.

I had just remembered that technically, nobody had chosen, the participation of Seigaku's Girls' Tennis Team had been required and I just happened to be listed as captain, when Tezuka interrupted my thoughts. "It would be efficient if Seigaku could come to an agreement upon its own terms and needs internally before negotiating with Hyotei." This was, I suppose, the closest he could get to offering a suggestion instead of giving an order. Which scored points in my book; my personal opinion was that he probably would be right to give orders under these circumstances.

I did my best to duplicate his detached, business-like tone. "You're right. Should we hold a meeting, then, before contacting Hyotei?"

"Yes." There was a pause. "Ordinarily, captains and vice-captains would attend such a meeting."

I blinked. "Ah." While I hadn't doubted that Tezuka, who was after all a well-respected member of the student society and could therefore afford to be blunt, was capable of subtlety when he wanted to be, I wouldn't have thought he'd use it with me. He was referring to the fact that the Girls' Team didn't have a vice-captain. There had been one at the beginning of the term, but she wasn't anymore. I hadn't replaced her when she'd left the post, and Coach Ryuuzaki hadn't pressured me to. Most likely it was because my club didn't have a functional purpose for a vice-captain. When I thought about this, I usually started wondering whether it had a functional purpose for a captain. Therefore I avoided thinking about it.

"I'll make sure we're adequately represented," I replied coolly, momentarily forgetting that I was supposed to be in awe of him.

If he noticed the brief frostiness, he made no mention of it. Inclining his head in acknowledgement, he said no more until we reached our classroom where Fuji Syusuke met him at the door. "Ne, Tezuka, how did it go? Did she want to talk about—"

Tezuka cut him off with a curt nod before returning his attention to me. "I suggest we hold this meeting as soon as possible. Would you be able to give me an idea of when you and your…team representative will be available by the end of today?"

Team representative? I could barely get my first year members to clean up the courts after practice, and he expected me to rope someone into handling a large-scale project which was sure to involved a lot of work and stress? I nodded firmly. "I'll see you at the end of afternoon practice."

I was such a fraud.

Satisfied, he returned to his seat, bringing Fuji with him. Removed of the immediate need to act serene, my legs almost collapsed under me. Pulling together the last of my composure, I strode swiftly down the corridor and turned a few sharp corners into a small, dark, dead-ended space that led to a little-used broom cupboard. I leaned against the wall, breathing out a long sigh. The sheer magnitude of the responsibility Coach Ryuuzaki had just dumped on me, out of the blue, like a sack of potatoes, was finally sinking in. She was calling upon me to actually do something as Captain of the Girls' Team.

Wasn't this what I'd been hoping for all year? A chance to be more than Captain in name?

But what was I supposed to do? How did you organize a joint-school event? What did a joint-school event even involve? Would someone tell me what needed to be done, or was I supposed to figure things out myself? And who was I supposed to ask to be this 'team representative'?


For all I learned during afternoon classes, I might as well have skipped them all. When the electrifying bell signaling the end of school rang, I twitched visibly in my seat. My hands fumbled slightly as I changed into the Seigaku Girls' Tennis Team uniform.

As a third year, the classrooms I had my lessons in were all on the third floor, leaving the lower levels to first and second years. This meant many of the younger girls were already gathered at the tennis courts by the time I arrived. As usual, I found them clustered around the ones reserved for the boys' team's usage, leaving our own desolately empty. By this time of year, I was jaded enough to this scenario not to sigh.

Dropping my book bag and tennis racket on a bench, I clapped my hands loudly and yelled, "All right, everyone! Practice began five minutes ago! Ten laps around the courts!"

After a few seconds' awkward delay, my club started to stir itself. All of the more serious players, third years and a few select second years, extracted themselves from the rest and headed for the track circling all the tennis courts. I hung back, yelled some more and got myself sufficiently annoyed to begin glaring at the first and second years lingering near the boys' courts wistfully. In small groups of three or four they eventually tore their eyes from their idols and set off at a reluctant canter.

In my usual start-of-practice funk (it gradually wore off as I reacquainted myself with the futility of being strict), I slipped on sneakers and broke into a run just as three figures in blue and white sped by.

Three members of the closest equivalent my club had of a team jogged ahead of me, their jackets embellished with 'Seigaku' billowing out behind them, white skirts swishing. Akihana Tori from my year, her doubles partner Hyuuga Natsuko, and Yoshizawa Konami, a second year singles player. At the beginning of the year, there had been two more decked out in regulars' outfits, but Makahi and Sayuri had long since lost that privilege.

I fell into step with Konami. She was an effective player, very fond of tennis, who might have been more active in the club had she not been so quiet. Noticing me beside her, she gave me a shy sideways smile that I returned.

"Fifty laps around the courts!" A booming voice from our immediate left made both of us stumble. Scrambling to regain my footing, I barely caught a glint of gold-framed glasses before shooting right past Tezuka. Even as the distance between us grew, I heard him dishing out orders to his club, administering the usual speech about not letting their guards down. Within thirty seconds, the Boys' Tennis Club in its massive entirety was all around me, running like their lives depended on it. With them came the remaining portion of my own club that I'd been unable to glower into submission.

It had happened many times before, each time bringing a pang of helplessness that did not grow any less acute as the days went by. A large part of this was inevitably due to my own expectations—though why I'd expected to be any more successful than the two captains before me, I didn't rightly know.

I came to Seigaku a passion-driven freshman, a fan of tennis of all sorts. Living with an older brother (that was before he left for university) who'd also attended Seigaku and played, I grew up hearing about the school's legendary tennis team—the boys', of course. The girls' team was established the year my brother graduated, and general opinion was that it needed some time to get off the ground. By the time I was due to enroll into middle school, it would be up and rising—or so I thought.

The day I signed up for Seigaku's Girls' Tennis Club and showed up at the courts clutching my racket, full of anticipation, all my hopes came crashing down. My brother had described what he'd seen of its general situation in his last few months at Seigaku, and I could see that very little had changed. A lot of the girls were there out of pure curiosity, and basically had no intention of training seriously. Many of them just wanted an excuse to be near the Boys' Team. That year's captain was a harried doubles player named Shimada who obviously had no idea what she was doing. The training routines loosely copied from the boys' methods were undisciplined and often rather chaotic. We freshmen felt the disadvantage less; we were only there to clean up after the upperclassmen, do basic endurance-building exercises and learn how to grip our rackets. I vaguely remember, though, how lost and confused the second and third year senpais generally seemed.

Year two was better. Captain Yamazawa had obviously come to the same conclusion as the rest of us, and put some effort into licking us into shape. As a second year, I was allowed to actually hit balls on an actual court, and was given the best training Yamazawa knew how to give. Coach Ryuuzaki had been conspicuously absent. The overall result was that the sporadic games I'd played with my brother brought me a much longer way than most of my fellow second years who'd trained under Yamazawa alone. That was when Makahi and I had started training together. She'd attended tennis lessons outside school and was looking for a challenge. I'd just wanted to have fun. We spent a lot of time scuffing up the nearby public courts, back when we still talked to each other.

As my third year at Seigaku commenced, I thought at first that the best was being saved for last. Vice-captain Sayuri from the previous year was all set to be captain, and she was considered more than good enough to help the rest of us along (tennis, she explained, ran in her family).

Disaster struck when Coach Ryuuzaki announced that Yamazawa's chosen successor wasn't Sayuri, but me. Things went downhill thereafter.

So because of one horrifically erroneous decision, I was now captain of a club that barely obeyed me, using courts adjacent to those of an actual team whose captain's competency contrasted so sharply with mine, it drew blood. And I had to endure the knowledge that my girls listened more to him when he wasn't even talking to him than when I screamed myself hoarse.

The captain of the Boys' Team considered me unworthy of my title. I wasn't exactly on speaking terms with him, but this much I knew.

A natural consequence of running in circles around the courts was that I had to pass by Tezuka again. Several times. As Konami and I rounded the corner, I focused entirely on the minute details of my moving body, regulating my breathing and the rhythmic pumping of my arms, steadying my pace and taking care to lift my feet in a correct jogging posture. A few steps short of where he was standing I let myself run on autopilot, meticulously staring straight ahead in a way that clearly said, "I'm not watching you; I don't even know you're there."

But of course I knew, and of course I did watch. If I hadn't been, I wouldn't have caught the tiny frown of disapproval that creased his brow as I passed by.

My heart pounded, and I knew I hadn't been running for long enough to make it thump so hard against my chest. I felt a flash of anguished resentment. Didn't I see the difference between him and me clearly enough without help? Wasn't it enough that I was appropriately ashamed of my inadequacy? Was it strictly necessary that he rub it in? But then again, I was lucky that he chose not to pursue the issue beyond dropping miniscule hints. I should be thankful that he at least didn't express his disapproval verbally in front of everyone, like he often did to his club or team members.

"Ano…"

I almost missed Konami's hesitant half-whisper when she tried to get my attention. "Yeah?"

"Um, could you tell me what Coach Ryuuzaki wanted today during lunch?"

"She told Tezuka and me about a joint-school tennis activity the school wants our clubs to hold with Hyotei Gakuen. The coach apparently expects friendly matches to be involved."

"Really?" Konami sounded as enthusiastic as her reserved nature would let her. "Who's organizing it?"

"The four tennis clubs from Seigaku and Hyotei," I replied vaguely, my mind still on Tezuka.

"Oh. When?"

"I don't know."

"Oh… Who'll be going?"

"I don't know."

Konami flinched. Her pace abruptly slowed and she began to fall behind, murmuring, "Okay. Sorry for bothering you…"

Sighing and mentally kicking myself, I slowed as well until we were running level with each other again. "No, I'm sorry. I'd tell you if I could but I really don't know when it'll be or who's going or…or anything about it, really."

"But Coach Ryuzaki spoke to you," Konami objected timidly, plainly intent on tiptoeing around my mood. "Didn't she tell you…?"

"She didn't tell me a whole lot," I reported wearily. "Apparently she expects us to take care of things on our own. She's too used to Tezuka." He could always be counted on to keep on top of things. Like me, he'd had the prospect of hosting a joint-school activity with a reputably snobbish and disagreeable school shoved in his face, but unlike me he'd taken it without batting an eyelid. Ten minutes later he was already planning meetings.

"Tezuka-san is very responsible," Konami agreed. "But I think our club could be too, if we…"

"Maybe. But not like Tezuka. He's so efficient it's like he can see the future and do damage control beforehand," I muttered, half to myself. "I can't be like him."

"I think you could, if you really tried… You're our captain, after all…"

I smiled grimly. "Only because Yamazawa lost her mind during the high school entrance exams," I declared, ignoring Konami's wince. By the end of last year I'd begun to really like my Captain Yamazawa. She'd tried hard for our club, and despite her efforts being largely ineffectual, I'd admired her. When word first got out that she'd chosen me as the next captain instead of Sayuri, I'd actually been rather flattered. But a few weeks into the job I finally realized that she'd made a huge mistake; I'd never expected to lead, and had never learned to do it properly. On top of that, she'd left me nothing—no proven methods of training, and none of the influence needed to suggest experimenting with new ones. No time to gain respect. Everybody had expected Sayuri to be the one, while half the club hadn't even known my name.

"Ano, ne…" Konami's voice shook me from my bitter thoughts.

"Hm?"

"Why do you think Coach Ryuuzaki is letting us participate?"

I laughed wryly, breathless from running. Konami grimaced. Even her grimace was shy. "Sorry, I just wondered, since we've never really…"

"No, it's all right." I shook my head. "I've been wondering too."


As usual, practice fizzled down to an end (the boys finished with a flourish—a war cry of "SEIGAKU! FIGHT-O!").

"First years, pick up the balls and take down the nets," I called out habitually, pleased that a few girls stirred themselves after only half a minute's pause. Leaving them to it, I slipped out of the courts and headed towards the water fountains. Passing a cluster of tired male regulars heading in roughly the same direction, I found Tezuka supervising a few jittery freshmen was they gathered up tennis nets. He had his back to me.

"Make sure you grasp the edges, not the netting itself. Yes, Shiori-san?"

Inhaling sharply, I froze.

When he received no reply Tezuka turned to face me squarely. "I trust your club has made its decision?"

"Er…" The truth was that I had only been passing by to get myself a much needed drink and hadn't counted on being cornered. "Yes."

I did so love my pride.

"I see. So who will represent your club, besides yourself?"

"Um…" The gears in my mind whirled into overdrive as I scrambled to whisk out a name on the spot. Precious seconds were wasted giving myself a mental smack on the head for letting personal curiosities and concerns make me forget about my promise to make a decision. I was on the brink of proving his worst suspicions of me as a leader correct, and it was only day one.

"Shiori-san?" Tezuka prompted. It was probably my mind playing tricks, but I thought he sounded just a shade patronizing, like a teacher being tolerant of a rather dim student.

"Yoshizawa Konami."

"Yoshizawa?" Was it just me, or did he sound dubious?

"Yes. I don't expect you know her. She's in the second year, from Momoshiro-san's class," I went on with a self-assuredness I did not feel. I was speeding on a mental highway, clutching the steering wheel desperately and barely keeping myself on the road. "She hasn't been very active in school activities before, but I think she'll he able to help us."

'She is in your club; you would know best," Tezuka allowed. "As for the date, time and place of the meeting, I have talked it over with my team. Are you and Yoshizawa-san available tomorrow during lunch break? My club plans on having busy afternoons."

I nearly forgot myself and scowled. My club's (alleged) practice sessions were as long as his. "I think so, but I'll have to confirm it with her. I'll give you a definite answer tomorrow morning."

"Please do." Having finished with me, he turned back to the Freshmen while I scurried away, breathing out long breaths of relief like I'd barely escaped suffocation.

I had never been so pleased or relieved to see the water fountains deserted. In merciful seclusion I turned loose a gushing stream of icy water from one tap and scooped it up with my unsteady hands, splashing it onto my face before moving on to drinking. Turning the tap off, I remained bent over the long trough, propping myself upright by planting both hands on its edge. I was breathing heavily and weak-kneed as though I'd done a much more strenuous workout than I actually had. Waiting for my pulse to rein itself in, I sighed.

Idiot.

Briefly curling both hands into fists, I raised myself wearily off the trough and walked slowly back towards the courts, rearranging my expression into one of unflustered (if fatigued) neutrality. It was high time I resigned myself to the fact that I would never stop being ridiculously panicky around Tezuka. I could tell myself that we were both sports club captains and on officially equal footing until I was blue in the face, never mind that he led a strong, celebrated team with endless potential whereas I—

Stop.

Here I was claiming awareness of my shortcomings, while all I did was bemoan them and wallow in self-pity. Not only was I incompetent, I also lacked the initiative to change myself, in spite of how dissatisfied I supposedly was with my performance. Did I not have any redeeming qualities at all?

Only a few people were scattered about the courts when I returned. Waving goodbye to the last of the club members, forcing myself to smile for them, I trudged resignedly into the silent courts. They were soothingly peaceful now that everybody had gone. With no one to lead, no one to teach, no one to disobey and make me feel pathetic, I was left alone in the rays of a warm afternoon sun to check for stray balls that the freshmen had overlooked, or simply found too troublesome to retrieve. There was a depressingly large number of these. By the benches sat the baskets where the rest of the balls were; no one had bothered to carry them back into the clubhouse. The same went for the nets—further proof that my orders carried little weight in the club.

Like on any other day, I set about finishing up various chores. Unlike the other second or third years who frequently congratulated each other on being exempt by the virtue of age from doing something so tedious, I didn't mind picking up after my club. I almost enjoyed it, in the sense that it made me feel like I was being of some use. Of course, I would have preferred that my freshmen did their assigned tasks thoroughly like I told them to. But as I had as of yet done nothing to deserve their esteem, I could hardly blame them.

At least the courts were comfortingly tranquil, and a pleasant breeze was playing through the trees…

"You try really hard for your club, don't you?"

Startled, I dropped the three tennis balls I had been holding. Whipping around, I saw to my bewilderment Fuji Syusuke standing behind me where there had only been air just a few seconds ago, or so it felt.

He picked up one of the balls I'd let fall and tossed it into a basket.

"It's all right," I protested instinctively. "I can do it."

He merely smiled wider. "I'd like to help. May I?"

"Sure…if you want."

Although not exactly unhappy to see him, I was nonetheless set on edge by his presence as I wondered what he was doing there. What could have possessed Seigaku's revered tennis tensai to suddenly show up and offer to do freshmen chores with me?

"I thought, since we'll be working together quite a lot after today, we might want to meet each other properly first," he announced cheerfully. He could only have made an educated guess, although his accuracy suggested some form of mind-reading. Or maybe it was just my stiff posture and frequent discreet frowns in his direction that gave me away.

"Oh. So…Tezuka told you, then? About the joint-school tennis activity we're supposed to hold with Hyotei?"

Fuji nodded happily. "I think he wants a larger workforce for this one. He and Oishi can't do everything by themselves—"

I seriously doubted that, but said nothing.

"—and neither can our club, for that matter. Ganbatte, ne, Shiori-san? We're counting on you."

I returned his bright smile halfheartedly. The day Seigaku's tennis teams counted on me for anything was they day they were both doomed to evaporate.

"It's true," Fuji insisted, with the slightest hint of imploring in his voice. Finishing up with the tennis balls, he went on to tidy up some of the less neatly folded nets. His smile grew mischievous and his soft voice lowered into a conspiratorial whisper. "Tezuka isn't that much of a 'people person', as you've noticed—"

I grinned ruefully.

"—so I really have no idea how he thinks he's going to manage a social event." The smile snapped back to its usual innocent cheer. "Seigaku's depending on you then, Shiori-buchou. Let's work hard together to save Tezuka's skin, ne?"

I couldn't help it; I laughed. The idea of me saving Tezuka in any way was solid fairytale material. It was the stuff of silly daydreams and fan girl crushes, but that didn't stop an image of me skillfully negotiating with a faceless Hyotei representative while he sat beside me looking confused from forming in my mind's eye.

After we had toted the last of my club's equipment back into its clubhouse, Fuji walked me to the school gates and waved goodbye as we parted ways. "See you tomorrow at the meeting, Shiori-san."

"Tomorrow," I agreed, and we exchanged a last smile before leaving.

It wasn't until much later that I realized the prospect of attending a meeting with Tezuka didn't fill me with dread anymore.