I do not own the Prince of Tennis.

As routine from when they first started their unlikely arrangement of trainee-trainer, they met in the public tennis courts at six in the morning. Ryoma would always beat her to the venue with his thermos on hand, drinking some concoction he picked up when he was touring in Southeast Asia. Lit lamps accompanied Sakuno in her warm up laps. Every meeting was led with five runs around the premises. This exercise was the only one Ryoma joined in. Then, the rest of the morning, he would be sprawled on the park bench with a cold beverage, listening to the sound of her playing.

In their runs, she usually lags behind Ryoma. While she was on her third round, he was already on his fifth. He would stop when she did, typically finishing around nine cycles without breaking a sweat. It annoyed Sakuno at first, thinking he was outrunning her to mock her speed and stamina. But, as she later learned, Ryoma hardly cared about anything. Surely her skill was far below his point of notice to see her as competition. So, that would never have been the case.

His mind usually wanders when she practices. When they started around a few days ago, he watched her form more keenly. His gaze was strict; his tone, sharp. As of late, he was more tolerant and hands-off; giving her the freedom to practice as she wished, with a few comments from him here and there. Sometimes, and this has happened twice only, he'd pick up her extra racket, a fuchsia-colored one of an unremarkable brand – and play against her. Of everything she did in her routine, those games were the most instructive and caused the most drastic improvement in her playing style.

Of course, she never scored against him, she knew she never could.

Though, she did once by accident. She was trying to catch his slice and caught it at the tip of her racket, causing the ball to lob up in the air in a quick and dangerous spin. As Sakuno tripped, trying to get to the ball, she watched in awe as it entered Ryoma's side of the court and grazed the inner boarder line behind him.

In all honesty, Ryoma looked as if he wanted to burst out laughing then – at the ridiculous attempt she made, coupled with the incredulous expression on her face. That one blunder had raised his spirits that he even acknowledged it (as a 15 – adv point) even though Sakuno's racket flipped off her grasp the instant the ball hit its edge; and even though the girl fell on the ground as a result of the chase.

She couldn't remember when she last saw Ryoma's lips curve over a smirk. She should've seized the moment to take a picture. Ryoma rarely broke his cool, nonchalant demeanor. It was one of the many reasons he was so attractive; his aloof nature. As if nothing could ever get to him. A clear mind, maybe that was the secret behind his success – a clear mind and tons of talent.

The thought brought a smile to her pretty face. Ryoma didn't change one bit after all these years. He was still the incredibly handsome, cocky, and talented young boy she met years back. The snarky adolescent who had an eye for nothing other than tennis.

Now – as Sakuno pushes open the gate to the courts, she smiles - now, he was no longer just a boy who dreamt of tennis.

The brunette pauses in her step to look up at the young man tying his shoelace on one of the benches, the same young man who has constantly filled her thoughts. And, she tells herself, as Ryoma turns and meets her gaze with his piercing hazel orbs, he was everything was supposed to be and more.

Sakuno, she couldn't have been happier for him. Now, as he acknowledged her presence with a curt nod to her direction, she knew could only dream the same for herself; whatever tiny morsel of success she could scavenge for herself.

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The Boy Who Stands Still

Chapter One

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Sakuno was currently rallying against the wall that early morning, strengthening and quickening her hits when Ryoma approached her and suggested she focus on her footing. His voice was deep and coarse. And he only spoke a little over a whisper as he explained why. The girl's doe eyes couldn't help but flicker, still unaccustomed to the familiarity between them.

After minutes, once again, a bored Ryoma stood from his seat.

Noticing him approach, Sakuno fluidly caught the neon ball shooting back at her with her racket then turned to Ryoma.

The handsome young man only shook his head in reply and ruffled his bangs before meeting her waiting eyes. "You should grunt." He told her, the small curve in his lips betraying him.

Sakuno took a moment to seriously consider his suggestion.

"It keeps you attuned to your rhythm." Ryoma piled on, hiding the cheeky expression on his face by looking at some random game at the court beside theirs. "It's not as ridiculous as it sounds."

Sakuno narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. Ryoma, she knew well enough, could be impish when he wanted to be.

"Well?" Ryoma gestured to the courts, insisting she resume her rallying.

The brunette walked back to position, a wary look lacing her features. "Okay…" She frowned, getting into form.

Back on his bench, Ryoma hid the growing smile on his lips with his fingers. Being twelve or seventeen made no difference to Sakuno's gullibility. The girl was just too trusting to a fault.

With a simple service, she caught the ball with her racket and – suddenly remembering she forgot to grunt as she hit it - messed her spin and chucked the neon tennis ball over the fence to the road below. She immediately turned to Ryoma, begging him not to pursue this exercise. But the oddly enthusiastic boy only handed her another ball. There was a visible skip to his step when he ran to her.

Eyes narrowing and cheeks flushing, Sakuno dribbled the neon ball and, comfortable with its feel, made another service. Quickly running to the other end of the court, positioning herself for a good hit, she caught the ball and grunted as she swung her racket with an added boost of adrenaline - making it reach the wall and back within record time.

Amazed, Sakuno turned to Ryoma. She was about to cheer in disbelief and excitement when she met the unimpressed expression on her coach's face.

Ryoma pursed his lips bitterly. The joke wasn't playing out as he wanted. "Try grunting louder."

Though unsure, Sakuno complied. She made the serve and caught the ball square on the sweetspot of her racket. And in less than a split-second, as she focused her strength to hit the ball with a specific spin that would make it slice into her non-existent opponent's side of the court, she almost forgot that she had to grunt. So, she did - at the last minute, making her miss the beat, sending the ball and her tennis racket flying to the other end of the court. And together with her tennis racket and ball covering the light of the morning sun for almost a second long, she could hear her grunt-turned-shriek echo throughout the vicinity. As if everything was in ridiculous slow motion, she felt all the hair in her body rise, her guts sinking in dread, and her cheeks coloring utter humiliation as everyone within earshot froze from their respective games in shock and look at her in horrific disbelief, each of them thinking – it's just 9:30 in the bloody morning!

A wave of silence washed through the courts in the form of tennis balls dribbling to a full stop. And Sakuno wanted nothing more but to vanish into the floor that same instant.

THEN, right on que, as Sakuno melted into the floor in utter humiliation, Ryoma burst out laughing.

Sakuno's doe eyes snapped to him in shock, her brows creasing comically in disbelief at him.

Then, Ryoma approaches her, clutching his stomach and laughing as he did. Squatting beside the tomato red girl, he tells her in between laughs. "That was way better than what I expected."

Like that, something in Sakuno clicked. And before she could take a hold of herself, her nostrils flare and she lounges at Ryoma in anger.

Both of them leave the courts looking less than their normal selves. Ryoma's hair was all ruffled. And there were noticeable dirt marks on his white cap and shirt. And Sakuno, well, her braids were in a messy fray. Her knees were red from having knelt as she tried to shove Ryoma down to his grave. Ryoma had never seen her so angry that all he could do was push back the hands that wanted to strangle him.

Needless to say, Sakuno was pissed as the both of them walked back home in silence. And the fact that Ryoma was visibly pissed made Sakuno pissed even more. When they reach the fork in the road where they usually go their separate paths home, Ryoma turns to walk down his corner when Sakuno calls out to him in annoyance. With her face still flushed in humiliation and anger, she glares at him. "Is that it?" She huffs, trying to sound more formidable than she looks. "You make fun of me then leave?"

Ryoma look at her as if she grew another head. "You nearly killed me!"

Sakuno couldn't believe her ears. Why wouldn't he just apologize?! "I didn't!"

"Whatever." Ryoma groaned stomping down the road home when Sakuno ran after him.

"I'm not the same, you know!" She called after him. Ryoma only rolled his eyes, walking faster, wanting nothing more than to lose the rampaging girl. Osakada was definitely a bad influence on her. He honestly can't remember her speaking anything over some random sound before – "Mou, Ano, Eto," he believed. Now, she was chasing him down. Was she crazy?! "I'm not gullible anymore! I know how to stand up to bullies!" She cried, reaching out to stop him from running away. Suddenly, she was able to grab hold of his shirt and was met by the shocked and then angry expression on Ryoma's face.

Then, expecting Ryoma to tell her off, to tell her that he quit as her coach, her stomach growls. Instantly, her cheeks redden. And, Ryoma sighs.

"If I treat you, will we be even?"

Sakuno barely found her voice. "Hmm." She nodded shyly, earning another exasperated sigh from her trainer.

The establishment Sakuno recommended was packed when they peered through the window. But seeing as Ryoma was Ryoma, he managed to get them a table by the corner. Upon entering, the delicious aroma of the soup added to their appetite. When their orders came - Ryoma opted for Shoyu ramen and Sakuno, beef stew with rice - the former looked at her dish with an odd and perplexed expression. He'd soon ask why she wanted to go to a well-known ramen shop and order a rice meal, but decided against it when his stomach cried to him in a hungry growl.

It was only a few minutes into their meal that a shadow cast overhead.

"You're the girl who won yesterday, aren't you?" A huge high schooler grunted more than spoke, gesturing to Sakuno who looked up at him with wide doe eyes, unsure of what to say. But she needn't reply as the former soon turned to Ryoma who, unlike her, paid him no heed. "And you're Echizen Ryoma, the sixteen-year-old Grand Slam champion."

It takes a second before Ryoma grunted amid his meal, "You're not wrong." came his simple reply.

"I'd ask for your autograph, you know." The unwelcomed student snorted, lingering at their table. "But now that I know you're a damn cheat, helping that sloppy-playing brat, the appeal's lost to me."

Ryoma breaks his chopsticks in half. And, seeing as the guy was still there, said coolly, "Good. I don't indulge requests of gorillas."

Sakuno nearly choked on her seat. Her eyes could only watch the two in worry, thinking those words would be enough to send the large teenager over the edge and beat Ryoma to a pulp. But the student didn't and just snorted again. A thankful sigh escaped her lips as he turned away to leave, the tension on her shoulders - relaxing. But before he did, the scornful teen gave her a glare and muttered under his breath, "You'll lose soon enough, bitch."

In all honestly, Sakuno didn't know the curse was directed at her. She was, admittedly, more gullible that she cared to believe. But, Ryoma had. And he stood up before the brunette got a grasp of what was going on.

The furious teen followed the other to his table and glared at the haughty group cussing and badmouthing them in the other end of the restaurant, loud enough to be well within earshot of the whole establishment.

"Ryoma-kun," Sakuno grabs his arm trying to lead him away.

Ryoma only glares even more and, not minding the girl, pulls back his arm and turns to the rowdy group.

"Oh, were we being too loud?" One of the guys sneered at him. "I'd apologize, but I don't give a damn about cheaters."

"Had it not been for your coaching, I would've won. They never should've allowed a Grand Slam champion to coach a high schooler." A spiteful girl in the group bit at them. Then, she turned to Sakuno. "It's sickening how you have the gall to show yourself in the arena with zero experience in the game. Tell me, are you even the ace of your tennis club? Let alone a regular?" Then, feigning amazement, bitterly answered for the quiet brunette. "No. You're not even a regular." With a snarl, she added. "You're a fucking joke."

Ryoma steps in front of a humiliated, blindsided Sakuno.

"Let's go, Ryoma-kun." was all she could say. The girl was pale and her eyes were brimming with tears. Still, Ryoma wouldn't budge.

"What does that make you then?" The young man suddenly said. The livid girl on her seat, surrounded by expressions of varying animosity, looks up with a scowl at the stoic young man, fazed by the intensity of his gaze. "Since you lost to someone who's a joke."

With that, Sakuno ran away, leaving the latter with no choice but to follow after her.

Outside, Ryoma called out to the brunette walking briskly in front of him. "Whatever happened to standing up to bullies." Sakuno only managed to throw him a glare over her shoulder, eyes brimming with unshed tears. Still, the young man told her off, "You can't expect others to do it for you."

Sakuno was having none of it. "You should've just let it go."

The young man couldn't believe his ears. He let out a lengthy sigh. "When I started coaching you, at what point of the tournament were you able to reach on your own?" Sakuno blinks at him, not knowing where he was headed with his question. "The finals." He answers for her. "You didn't need me to get far into the tournament. And you don't need me to win it."

It was at this comment that Sakuno came to ask, "Then, why are you coaching me?"

Ryoma only shrugged. "I don't think I really am coaching you." He smirks to himself, hinting at the incident earlier that day.

Sakuno ends up smiling, even laughing at the thought.

To be continued.