Alternate Rumic World MI-1: Ace no Ikkoku

[an offshoot from the Variations on a "Them" thread of the "Rumic World Messageboard"]

by RyogasGirl & jalp

(Not that we own these characters! They belong to Takahashi-sensei and whoever she says.

We've just enjoyed finding a few new ways for these people to make things interesting. . . .)

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Imagine there's no Sôichirô teaching at her high school. Perhaps young Chigusa Kyôko isn't as distracted from her studies. Or maybe she puts her extra time and energy into her tennis.

She was good in the RRW (Real Rumic World). In this ARW timeline, she's better. Good enough to shine in some local tournaments – to dream of qualifying for the professional tour.

And then she catches the eye of a certain male pro. . . .

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Episode #1: Everybody Loves Kyôko

Chapter 7:

Return of Service

The employee lounge was just as the nice young man had promised – far from fancy. A single stainless steel sink and electric tea kettle were on one wall, with a refrigerator next to the counter. A few lockers, a payphone, and a table with folding chairs completed the decor. Kyôko didn't mind at all. At least the reporters and photographers aren't here.

"I need a taxi at the Tôkyô Lawn Tennis Club. Behind the main building. Oh – and as quiet as possible, please. Okay. Thank you." Godai hung up the payphone before sitting down. "It won't be long, Chigusa-senshu. Sorry about the room; we don't get a lot of guests in here . . ."

"Not at all, I'm just glad to be out of that party." She smiled graciously.

"Oh, I should offer you something . . . umm . . . I think we have some tea in the cabinet, but it's nothing special." Godai's nerves were getting the better of him. What do I say . . . what do I say. . . ?

"Don't worry about me. I'm not really someone you have to impress. Some tea would be very nice, thank you." Kyôko knew she'd never get used to people fawning over her. It just made her uncomfortable to be pampered. She took a mirror out of her purse and began to look for the pins holding up her hair. "Another good thing about being here instead of at that party – it also means I can get these pins out. *tsk* They pinch like crazy."

As her hair fell down around her shoulders lock by lock, Godai's heart began to race. She looked so much more like herself – the beautiful Kyôko he'd long admired – with her hair loose and free. He could almost see her in her white skirt and sweatband, racing for an errant serve.

"I think that's enough tea; I don't like it too strong." Kyôko pulled him from his fantasy as he realized he'd emptied the entire canister into the pot.

"Oh, I – I . . . sumimasen. I'll take some out." Focus, baka, focus. Say something. "Those reporters were vicious this morning. I'm glad you made it out."

"Were you there?" Kyôko looked at him, then turned her head to one side and stood on tiptoe trying to see him from a different angle. "Oh! You're the young man who I . . . oh, are you okay?"

"You remember me?" She remembers me!

"Of course! You fell and knocked over that reporter," Kyôko answered. "It was lucky for me, but I felt bad that you tripped over one of those wires stretching all across the room for the press conference."

"Umm . . . yeah . . . no big deal. I'm just glad it worked out for you in the end." Godai smiled a bit sheepishly. Tripped? Well, there's no point in telling her the truth.

"Well, then, I guess this is really the second time you've helped me. Arigatô gozaimasu." And Kyôko bowed slightly to the fan. Somehow she felt comfortable with him, despite his apparent clumsiness.

Godai blushed slightly. He was having a real conversation with her. Never in his life had he ever wished harder for a massive traffic jam. Please let the taxi never come. "Actually, I've really always admired –"

*Wham!*

"Oi!" One of Godai's fellow waiters burst through the door. Of course. My pal Sakamoto. One of these days I'll kill him. . . .

"There you are! What did you do to that ice sculpture, buddy?! And why in the world did you just leave it out there on the ground? The boss is looking for blood. He'll dock your pay for it – if you're lucky." He lowered his voice . . . a little. "Personally, I think if he doesn't see you in the next two minutes, you're probably going to be writing club employee rules 2, 3, and 5 two hundred times each – and then having to find yourself another job."

Sakamoto's next pause for breath left him time enough to notice there was someone else in the room. "Oho, so that's what you've been doing in here, eh? I don't think he's going to like finding out you were hanging around with a girl, either – no offense, miss." This to the woman, who seemed to be embarrassed or something; she was hiding her face, anyway.

You baka – you just left it there! Godai chided himself. Then he realized: Wait – there was something more important I had to do. I guess I have to see if even this dummy will buy the truth as an explanation. "You see, Sakamoto, Chigusa-senshu lost something . . ."

"Chigusa-senshu? Yeah, right!" Sakamoto scoffed, rolling his eyes. Then those eyes snapped back involuntarily toward – "Chigusa-senshu?"

That earned him a double "Shhh!!" and Godai's hand over his mouth.

Silenced, he stared – seeing the most famous tennis star in Japan, in her most glamorous dress, sitting in the most homely room at the club. "Suimasen, Chigusa-senshu. I didn't recognize you."

"That's alright. I hope I didn't get your friend in trouble, though. I distracted him from his work, asking him to look for something for me and to help me stay away from the reporters. He was very kind, brought me here, and called a taxi to take me home." Kyôko felt guilty for walking over him at the press conference, and wanted to do something to make it up to him. Sure, he was a little clumsy, but he didn't deserve to be fired for it.

Godai could only look at her, dumbstruck that someone like Chigusa Kyôko was standing up for him.

"Well, we better find the manager soon or he may not be very forgiving, no matter what happened." Sakamoto grabbed Godai, rushing to leave. "Let's go back by way of the parking lot – he may not be quite as angry if he doesn't have to lose face for this in front of the guests."

"I'll come, too. It was my fault, after all." Kyôko picked up her purse and followed them through the lounge's outside door to the parking lot – just as a car pulled up.

"Your taxi." Relief and disappointment mixed in Godai's voice. But as he turned to wave her on to the vehicle, he saw her eyes filled with honest concern. "I can't just go – what about your boss?"

"It's fine, Sakamoto is exaggerating a bit. It was just an ice sculpture, after all." He smiled, not wanting to involve her any more. It's my problem, not hers.

"But it was my fault you couldn't clean up the mess, at least." Kyôko was determined to take the blame. After all, what would they do to me? "If I'd been paying more attention, I wouldn't have had to bother you. I'll talk to Mitaka-shachô for you tomorrow."

"You don't have to –" Godai realized that he didn't have time to argue if his boss was as upset as Sakamoto made him out to be. Besides . . . "It's more important that you get away from here without anybody else finding out," and he shot another glare at Sakamoto.

"Well . . . hontô ni arigatô gozaimasu. Thank you very much again for all your help – really. Tasukarimashita." And Kyôko got in the taxi. The two waiters stood at the doorway as she rode off.

"You may yet dodge the bullet today, Godai. And boy, will you have a story to tell! So start practicing now – what were you two up to in there, anyways?" Sakamoto asked with a wink.

"Nothing! I just called her a taxi," Godai glared at him.

"I rush in here trying to save your job, find you in here with Chigusa Kyôko, and that's all you can say? That's all the thanks I get? A story that's over in two seconds? I don't know why I bother sometimes..."

"That's all that happened!" Godai shouted. "It's people like you who make a market for all those terrible rumors in the papers these days, you know," he accused. "I should never have called you to suggest that you apply to work at the party tonight." Then, still simmering, he added, "Besides, weren't we in a hurry?"

"Yeah . . ." Sakamoto knew he wouldn't be getting too much more info right now from Godai's time alone with Kyôko, so they jogged off together. "We have to find the manager, report in to him, and then go help clean up the conference room. Apparently a few of the guests had too much sake." He paused for a moment, then added, "It was nice of her to offer to call Mitaka-shachô for you, though."

"Yeah," Godai sighed, slowing down a fraction. "Just think – she really is like that. . . ."

"Hey, snap out of it, buddy! We've got some work to do before we sleep – or dream. But if you want something to think about while you're working, here's a question for you."

"What is it now, Sakamoto?"

"She heard you mention my name, but why didn't I hear her calling you by your name?"

". . . . . ."

"Hey, are you okay? You'd better get ahold of yourself before the boss sees you stumbling like that. . . ."

Aargh, Godai thought succinctly as he picked himself up off the parking lot and ran to catch up with Sakamoto. Why couldn't he have mentioned that before? Like when Chigusa-senshu was still here?! . . . All that time alone with her, actually having a real conversation – and still she doesn't even know my name?! That means . . . to her, I'm practically – a nobody.

"Weren't you supposed to be my best friend?" Godai glared at him.

"Geeze, what did I do now?" Sakamoto sighed as he glared right back.

"Nothing. . . ." If he didn't know, it was probably no use trying to explain. "Let's just pick up the ice before we go back to see the boss. Maybe if we clean that up, we'll miss the clean-up inside. . . ."

"Well, I can't disagree with that logic." Sakamoto leaned down and stared picking up the bigger chunks and putting them back on the cart. "Hey, here's what the wheel caught on!"

Godai turned to his friend rather disinterested – until he saw what Sakamoto was holding up: a set of keys! The silvery keys glistened with the water from the melted ice like senkô hanabi ... senkô hanabi with – a chick!

"That's it!" Godai snatched the keys from Sakamoto's hands so quickly, he fell back onto the melting ice in surprise.

"Hey! Geeze, it's just a set of keys, calm down! We'll turn 'em into the office after . . ." Sakamoto stopped his rant when he saw the look in his friend's face. "So, that's what you were looking for, huh?"

"I have to give them to her. This is my chance." Godai gazed at them as if he'd just been given a bar of gold.

"Ummm, I have to give them to her; I found them. Besides," Sakamoto grinned, "at least she knows my name."

"I . . ." Godai grasped the keys closer, as if he were holding her hand.

"Oh, keep them. . . ." Sakamoto couldn't stand the pathetic look in his face. "But you owe me!"

"Yeah. . . ." Godai grinned sappily, staring at his ticket to see Kyoko-s...Chigusa-senshu . . . once again.

"Hey, lover boy," Sakamoto pulled him from his almost-daydream. "You owe me, so you could at least help with the ice!"

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The reporter made one more try at winding up the column.

Japan has longed for a world-beating tennis star since Shimidzu Zenzô almost brought home the Wimbledon men's title in 1920. We may have seen her on the court today – a hometown girl making very good indeed.

Off the court, I saw a young woman who's still just entering a strange new world. When that world's strangest strangers accosted her with their cameras, she looked as though she'd rather have spent the afternoon swinging a broom than a tennis racket.

Yes, everybody loves Kyôko. But do we love her for what she is? Or for what she can become? Or for what we want her to be?

Or can we love her enough to let her be when she asks us to?

I guess that'll have to do. I can't explain her situation any better than that if I can't ask her to explain it to me. Besides, I can't blame everyone too much – I can understand how they feel. The reporter saved the file, started the built-in printer, then stood up and stretched. Better turn the fax machine on, so I can send this in to Mai-Asa headquarters and save myself a trip to deliver the disk.

By the time he came back across the darkened room, the last page was finishing. He got out his hanko, ready to stamp his symbol on it. That's one good thing about writing for a living. You can at least pretend most people don't know who you are. And they don't mind. It's halfway to privacy – having a pen name. He smiled, took the inked cap off the seal, and pressed down firmly.

That's me. Anonymous. Nobody. Nothing.

Maru de 'nashi . . .


Could these be the keys to Kyôko's heart? Will Mitaka charm our talented young tennis pro? Can Godai beat even stiffer odds than he faced in the "Real Rumic World"? Or could there be yet another man waiting in the wings? We have yet to write the chapters which will bridge these first seven to the four in Episode #3, but we hope they will also stand on their own for anyone who would like to read on. Either way, we would very much appreciate any and all reviews you may be willing to offer for this episode. We will work diligently to have Episode #2 of our story completed as soon as possible – so that you may enjoy the whole story in a more linear way.

In the meantime, if you'd like to see the graphic we designed to go at the end of this story (but can't persuade the system to show you here), contact us and we'll tell you where it is.