Chapter 2:
Ryoma woke.
Limbs sore and aching in places he hadn't known he could ache - surprising considering his status as a tennis player - he pushed himself up. The scratchy blankets fell from his chest, piling in front of him in a swath of brown. He yawned and stretched, feeling the familiar weight of his favorite bracelet hanging from his wrist.
Bamboo walls lined up around him and it was familiar and yet not. Old-fashioned paintings hung from the walls, decorated with ink paintings of birds and men and women dressed in ancient clothing. Clothing Ryoma only saw at museums and in textbooks.
"What the f-"
A door slid open, startling him into silence.
"Oh good, you're awake," Kikumaru said.
Ryoma gaped at him, then touched his wrist. He hadn't seen Kikumaru since he had graduated from Seigaku and moved onwards to Tokyo University, hadn't seen him or talked to him since. That and Kikumaru was currently wearing the oddest combination of clothing he had seen him wear - an old style yukata combined with strange markings on his face.
"I'll tell Oishi you're awake," Kikumaru continued. He set down a tray of food - fish and rice it looked like. "Then we can talk."
Not knowing what else to do, Ryoma nodded. Kikumaru slid the tray towards him and left, allowing Ryoma the space to eat.
Kikumaru came back a few minutes later, once Ryoma was nearly done with his food. Following behind him was Oishi, looking much older than Ryoma had ever seen him and wearing the same type of clothing Kikumaru was.
They sat down in front of him.
"Good to see you're awake," Oishi said. His voice is much deeper than Ryoma had remembered. "And I'm glad to see that you're okay - "
"We found you on lying on the side of the road," Kikumaru explained, "fortunately, you didn't seem to be hurt."
Ryoma frowned.
"I'm Oishi and this is my partner, Kikumaru," Oishi continued, shooting Kikumaru a glance that silently asked him why Kikumaru had announced that little bit of information, "we run the apothecary downstairs."
"I'm Ryoma," he decided to say. "I'm sorry - where exactly are we?"
"Not to worry," Oishi said, "it can be a little disorienting waking up after a long night's merry-making."
Kikumaru laughed. "Don't worry, we won't tell anyone."
"We're actually not too far from Tokyo City," Oishi said, "in the small city of Sendai."
Ryoma nodded. Still in Japan, then. He stilled felt disoriented though, and very confused. Here were two upperclassmen who should have remembered him, but didn't. Instead, it seemed more like they were roleplaying feudal Japan than anything. He pinched himself.
Nothing.
"I don't understand," Ryoma said.
Oishi frowned.
"You didn't forget, did you?" Kikumaru asked. "Like hit your head and accidentally lose your memories?"
Ryoma almost laughed at Kikumaru's explanation of amnesia. He had stated it as though it were merely an inconvenience. Still, suddenly seeing an answer, Ryoma nodded.
"Now that I think about it, I can't seem to remember anything but my name."
Kikumaru and Oishi exchanged a significant glance. Years ago, Ryoma would have thought it was merely something doubles partners did, but after so many years of experience and getting to know people outside of Seigaku, he now knew that what Kikumaru and Oishi had was not normal for doubles tennis players.
"Well," Oishi said finally, "you can stay here while you try to get your memories back. Stay with old men like us," he joked.
"And if you still don't get them back, we'll help you find a way," Kikumaru said.
For the first time in many years, Ryoma could feel his old self welling up inside of him again. His old self, not the new tennis prodigy making headlines every time he so much as scores. His old self.
He smiled.
"Thank you."
Both Kikumaru and Oishi persuaded Ryoma to stay in bed, so he settled back into the rough blankets. He laid there for mere minutes, thinking and planning. An itch in his legs started to crawl up his skin. He needed to get up, he needed to run, to do something.
He tossed the blankets off, the cooler air hitting his toes, and slipped downstairs, following after their trail.
"Ryoma-san!" Kikumaru said, startled behind a pile of barrels. "I thought we told you to stay put!"
Ryoma tried to look abashed, but knew he failed when Kikumaru didn't immediately lose his glare.
"I'm fine," he said instead, "I just need to walk around."
Kikumaru pursed his lips but stopped scolding him. He placed some scrolls that he had been rifling through on top of one of the barrels.
"Alright," he said as Ryoma eyed the scrolls, "just ask any of the neighbors if you need any help - oh and Oishi is asking the town doctor to stop by and check up on you."
Ryoma waved him off, feeling like he was twelve again and not nineteen.
Once outside, Ryoma felt as though he could breathe a little bit easier. The air quality seemed to be clearer, as though the fumes from the various plants, herbs, and powders created a toxic mixture that polluted the air. He made a note to bring that up to Kikumaru and Oishi.
The apothecary looked like it was placed on one of the busiest streets in the town. There were several people coming in and out of the main entrance, all looking towards Oishi for their needs.
Ryoma ducked into the crowd, hoping that Oishi hadn't seen him. He didn't need to be lectured twice in the span of five minutes.
Several people gave him curious looks as he kept walking eastwards and he was glad that Kikumaru and Oishi had lent him a traditional yukata for him to wear instead of his tennis uniform.
He stopped, almost causing a man behind him to run into him.
"Watch it!" the man shouted, but Ryoma wasn't listening.
What on earth had happened? One minute, he had been staring into the water and then -
A sort of recklessness had welled up inside him and then he was -
"Okaa-san?"
Ryoma shook his head and began walking again. From the corner of his eyes, the brilliantly colored flowers decorating the front door caught his eye. On top of the door was a sign - "Kawamura Flowers" he read. He went in.
It was as though he were back home. The flowers bloomed beautifully though some were still buds. And though most no longer existed back home, Ryoma could see their future variations. Or what he thought was their future incarnations. He still wasn't entirely sure where he was.
"Can I help you?"
Ryoma turned, a "no thank you" ready on his lips, but the words faded away as soon as he saw the familiar face.
Takeshi Kawamura stood in front of him, smiling with a sort of gentle pleasure that Ryoma had always associated with him. He held a bouquet of flowers in his arms.
And then, without even realizing it, Ryoma nodded.
"I'd like to get some flowers for my some relatives I'm staying at…"
