Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis series. All rights belong to the original author and any organizations associated with the manga and anime. There will be subtle references to the popular sitcom The Big Bang Theory because Sheldon is god-worthy. Nabiki is a character born from my imagination so please let her stay as such. Rated M for fear of emotional tension/content that may be unsuitable for younger reader later on in the writing. Constructive criticism is welcome. However, if you do not like fanfictions that feature OCs then please don't flame me. Last but not least, enjoy.
"No."
A pair of golden orbs sliced through the heavy silence that resonated with emptiness. Hallways, devoid of mortal presence, collapsed within itself an electric charge of fear.
"Buchou…" the two boys were devastated. They watched, painfully, as his confident form slowly melted from their sight. There was going to be no second chance. No redemption. No regrets. His voice gave their hearts a fierce squeeze, suffocating all hopes they had taped together piece by piece. But, he was not unkind. Echizen buchou. A mysterious charisma surrounded him. The kind that can catch wind to your soul before you stepped on court. Incredibly fearless, his confidence also knew no limit. It must be his American blood.
"In his own words: mada mada dane. Is that right, Ryuuzaki-sensei?"
She was caught. Escaping his insight was no easy feat. "I take it that you've been here for quite a while."
When her former student did not reply, Sumire continued. "When to comes to leadership, he's got quite a bit to work on. Guess it's no surprise then. That his approach is actually quite similar to yours and Kaido's, Tezuka."
He offered a nod of acknowledgement. The former bespectacled caption of Seishun Gakuen's tennis team was a man of few words.
She accepted that as a response with amazing grace. "I suppose you're here to check on the team?" The coach knew that she actually did not need to ask.
"Ah." Tezuka replied, making direct eye contact. "The selections at high school are very competitive. They should be prepared."
"As expected." The coach offered a smirk of merit. That was just the kind of thing so typical of Tezuka. In fact, the words had his name written all over them. "But coincidentally just in time. Ryoma's just put in the new set of regulars this morning. They are good players, but he says they're missing something. Hopefully you'll know what the boy's talking about. Just like his dad. Thinks of the oddest sense."
He was not surprised. Tezuka handpicked this protégé himself. They connected on a level that eluded all words and language. A realm of connaissance. Not quite intuition.
The pair did not engage in conversation as they slowly made their way to Ryuuzaki-sensei's office. These moments were reminiscent of the days that Seigaku's youngest regular was in fact a first year student with golden eyes. Both the coach and the captain then had dedicated most of their waking moments to the team, and to tennis. This peace was, unfortunately, brutally decimated by a blood curdling scream with deep echoes of pain. There was certainly no question. Whoever it was, was suffering from something horrible.
They shot off like two tennis balls from Momoshiro's well-known Jack Knife. Past empty classrooms that would have been otherwise filled with curious students. There was absolutely no time to mind their step. How utterly selfish it would have been anyway.
"…" She stared at him— the figure who had collapsed to the ground, writhing like a leech that's been left to die on a mound of salt. His companion was rooted to the ground beside the victim with horror. Dilated pupils and wide eyes included. It had not occurred to her that there would be students bouncing around the deserted school building at this hour in the afternoon. Nonetheless, it was hardly appropriate behaviour.
Her hand had remained relatively undamaged, save for a few spots that were quickly beginning to turn a disturbing red against the delightful cream of the rest. "Ara…" she said in a very low voice, barely above a whisper. Her attention was captivated by the corrosive acid that now ate away at the proteins that made up the largest organ of the human body. Something skidded to a stop behind her. She felt the invisible breeze cruise past her back, then dispersing around her like a flower in full bloom. Her attention only snapped back to the present universe when one of the two boys managed to choke out Ryuuzaki-sensei's name. The usually good-natured coach was having a hard time holding back shock. A stoic ex-captain accompanied her, who was also slightly bewildered by the situation himself.
"Nabiki. You're bleeding." He pointed out.
Her childish face was blank. "Ah." She still held onto the beaker. A deafening silence engulfed the small group of individuals.
She reached into the pocket of her lab coat for a vile that she knew would be needed. There were several, luckily all in different sizes. Her small fingers searched nimbly for the right glass container before finally retrieving it from the darkness. "Mitsu-senpai." She held it up to him.
10.0 M NaOH
"It's acid. Sulphuric acid." She explained, more for the suffering first year's sake than for Tezuka's. "I was making esters."
He understood. Neutralization: a basic chemical principle capable of a variety of wonders. Hopefully this would not cause any further damage that required hospitalization.
Sumire watched in wonder as the older and more responsible student proceeded to dump the contents of Nabiki's test tube on the boy's wound. He howled with pain. Luckily the scream only lasted for relatively brief moment. It was time for her to step in and assume command of the situation before it got any worse.
"Alright, that's enou-"
"Echizen-senpai! Buchou wants to-" words died on the messenger's mouth as he evaluated the situation before his eyes. Unable to form a proper judgement, he allowed a look of complete puzzlement to surface on his face.
The coach almost sighed. Did everyone at this school have a knack for interrupting other people in the middle of a sentence?
"As I was saying," Sumire asserted herself, "that's enough of fooling around with dangerous chemicals. Let's get you to the nurse's office." She looked pointedly at the unlucky first year student again, then at Nabiki. "Get your hand treated. We'll clear up what happened after you've both been taken care of."
Off they marched to cause a disturbance at the health clinic.
Nabiki knew that expression on Mitsu-senpai's face. He wanted the story now. She purposefully avoided his eyes. The accident was not her responsibility.
Tezuka followed her into the laboratory. She was washing her hands at the sink, wincing at an unexpected sting from the water. "You did not think of wearing gloves." He commented.
"The first year students from aniki's club did not think of walking near the laboratories." She replied, descending carefully from the stepping stool. "I understand that I'm short, but I am most certainly not invisible." Golden eyes flashed with momentary annoyance. "What an inconvenience."
"Given your age, it is only right that you are smaller than the rest of the school." Tezuka replied with blunt honesty.
"But that does not warrant me invisibility."
He turned away from her, refusing to argue. Sometimes he forgot— despite her astonishing intellectual abilities, Nabiki was only eight years old.
"Echizen-senpai…?" the same messenger poked his head around the door. "Buchou…still needs to…er…see you. Now." He added as an afterthought. It was only reasonable to conclude that he had been standing outside awkwardly for quite some time.