Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis, never will, and I won't try to. Now, let us see... will Sana find love? Or not? Ah, whatever. I do surprising things to my characters because I can, and will. Sana, to me, is one of my most fleshed-out characters because I write it in first point view. And this chapter is a token of gratitude to all the yaoi fangirls if you did review. So review!


--Act One, Scene Three--

I had a vivid dream yesterday. It was so real that I didn't want it to end, and yet it did, making me feel relieved and disappointed at the same time.

There was Eiji (no surprise, right? He had came to our house yesterday and bought me a square tennis ball.) and another guy who had an egg-shaped hairstyle. Their bodies were entwined. In a bed.

Instantly, I wished I wasn't there, I wished I wasn't seeing it. Eiji and Oishi were just friends, the best of the double players in tennis, and not soul mates.

What disturbed me wasn't the homosexuality content.

It was Kikumaru.


Another drab day at the superb aerodynamics of volleyball was enough for me to improve greatly at the said sport. There is one advantage as a target. You know exactly where the ball will hit, so you can easily hit it.

That said, that doesn't mean that I mastered the childish American sport, though. My serves are occasionally weak. And I can't spike at all. My palm hurts when I try and more often than not I fall ungracefully in front of the coach, who has a dreadful whistle.

"Sana," she reprimanded me sternly, "You're trying, but you don't have any motivation. Keep up the good work."

Is she practically blind? I am a living dummy practice for the murderers on the other side of the net. And what is with all the 'motivation' quotes? I was trying my best to survive; even I could see that.

At break time I went to the vending machine to get a can of apple juice when one of the jockies stuck out her leg. Well, was I supposed to trip on her leg? Or was I supposed to ask her, "Hi, my name's Sana, can you move your damn leg out of the way?"

That's pretty ironic considering that I used to be such a polite and timid child. It changed due to the fact that I could get anything I wanted by being a genius. So I did a quick sidestep which surprises both of us and I get my juice.

Then I study my offender's face. She's pretty, in that easy-going preppy way. High cheekbones and long lashes. I glanced at my face on one of the reflective surfaces around the gym and there's nothing special about it. Black long hair and stupid spiffy bangs. And finally I realize I don't care. I've known who I always was and I don't change to whatever people say about me.

Let's run down the list: I was seriously uncoordinated (but it was improving by leaps and bounds) and also one of the advanced geeks. I wasn't popular, and I drove people away because I always made fun of them, but it was okay to me. I didn't stand out too much, though I may have gone too far singing Happy Birthday to sensei in English, including his age.

"Jerk." I muttered under my breath as she passed aside me. I hate the fact that people think I'm nothing. Just because I couldn't hit that one ball was not logically enough reasoning to hate me as a teammate.

It looks like she heard me though, because she turned her head and gave such a nasty smirk. I smiled back. Some people aren't worth enough to waste your time.

It was about ten minutes later when I reverted back to genius mode. This 'teenage mood swing' had been continuing for weeks. Science isn't good enough to explain the exact details of it, though I was planning an article in a local magazine about the psycho effects of it.

Calculating the odds and chances of one ball speeding toward me, I closed my eyes and willed my ears to direct my arms to deflect the hurling missile away from the floor.

It hit my neck squarely, but I couldn't feel anything as I fell to the floor, slowly, still closing my eyes.


"Sana? Sana! Are you all right? Are you all right?" Mother's voice filled my ears after I had gained consciousness.

"I'm fine and you don't need to repeat yourself," I snapped to her, or so I had thought. There was Eiji, in his tennis jersey glory. Oh, great. He was exactly what I needed after being knocked out from a stupid volleyball.

He was grinning and I realized that he was holding up a small recording toy. He pressed a button and out came my mother's message, sounding worried and hurried.

"Oh, that's nice." I said dispassionately. I was feeling sore on my backside and I didn't have enough mental capacities to stir up quarrels with my arch-nemesis. "I totally expected that. A record of my mom panicking. Pure genius."

"Hoi, hoi, Sana!" He greeted me in a friendly way. He hadn't heard what I said, but perhaps it was for the best.

"Hi. What are you here for? I'm supposed to greet 'Kaa-san after volleyball practice..."

Eiji grinned again. It bothered me somehow but, like I said, I didn't have the youthful energy I was supposed to have to argue with him. And arguing with him was pointless, anyway. He pointed to a nearby clock, which read 9:45. Just fifteen minutes until my curfew.

"You've been out for hours. Tennis practice was way over when your mom called me."

"Oh. Thanks." I mumbled. Anything to get out of his way.

I slung my gym bag over my shoulder and it hurt a little, but I didn't show it on my face.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. I'm walking."

"No way. Your mom told me--"

"What my mom told you is your business. Not mine." And I shoved him out of the door. I was remembering the dream and it disturbed me deeply. I didn't want to contemplate why I had felt that way, and I didn't have to. So I ignored it.

"No." And this time I stopped. There was a catch in his voice, something different than the usually hyperactive boy that was standing in front of me, in the nurse's clinic. He was serious. So I waited.

I look at him straight in the eye. I'm not afraid to, but he is, so I look down at his shoes. Better yet, I close my eyes and sigh deeply.

"What is it?"

"N-nothing. It's just that carrying that is probably going to hurt your back even more. So give me it."

I shake my head slowly. "No. First of all, you're carrying a tennis racket."

"It's not that heavy."

"Second, this bag has all of my sweat-drenched clothes in it. And two bottles of water and... an empty can of juice."

He didn't hesitate. For a long time I had to decide. Suddenly, I put the bag on the palm of his hand and it didn't budge one inch.

"Thanks," I said again. Why was he being so nice to me?

I think he read my mind somehow so he rolled his eyes said, "I know you brainy types don't have a sporty streak."

I winced. He was right. I was knocked out today by a volleyball. If he had taken such a risky demeanor he couldn't have made it out of the hospital in a tennis match.

"But you were different in the gym today," he continued, "because you didn't care what happened to you. You wanted to hit that volleyball so badly."

"Yeah? Look what happened," I retorted back angrily. I hated not being in that protective genius mode, the one where I could be certain to be perfect, where no one could tell me how I was wrong. Volleyball wasn't for me. Sports weren't for me.

"It makes a difference," he stated coldly, looking like I was inferior to him. "Didn't you feel any change from yesterday and today?"

Oh crap. Did he watch yesterday's match? I looked like a lunatic back there, but I still don't care, and my back still hurts.

"Yeah-- I mean yes. A little."

"Eh? Somehow I feel too strict talking to you like this."

His voice isn't serious anymore, and I feel like an idiot for actually answering him. He's a kid, for god's sake.

We walk home in complete silence, and it's awkward. Almost... like a first date.


Author's Note: Woo hoo! I loved this chapter. It's like Sana's a completely different person, but still the same. Not multiple personality disorder, but close enough.