Notes: Once again I delay in putting out chapters. I apologize to everyone. Remember, though, only two more plus epilogue to go. I hope this monster can be done by April.
This chapter is in-continuity, but since it doesn't focus on Sakuno like the rest of the story, but instead on the reactions of the other schools once Niou's picture got sent (and forwarded to almost all of the other tennis team captains), I felt it had to considered a bonus chapter. It's less polished, I think, than the other parts of the story and it is VERY dialog-heavy, but I liked some of the ideas in it so much that I wanted to share them. I hope they're at least good for a few laughs. BOOB JOKES ARE FUNNY DAMMIT.
Patience will be rewarded. The conclusion of this long-ass story will come!
OMAKE: BONUS CHAPTER
At the Seishun High tennis courts
Inui Sadaharu believed that very few things were beyond the realm of possibility. In strict theory, he considered nothing impossible unless it had been conclusively proved to be so by his own observation, and not on hearsay from any other source. He currently believed, for example, that the existence of unicorns was roughly 0.00000000000001 percent probable. The odds of Tezuka-buchou smiling ever since he was a baby and gas attacks had been confused for joy had to be written down in scientific notation to avoid filling an entire page with zeros.
The picture plastered within the confines of the laptop screen upon which he gazed, uncomprehending, had never warranted a calculation or consideration. By his own standards Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster having a splendid wedding in the middle of Tokyo (he had dreamed about it once when he was ten and hadn't been able to resist) would have more basis in probability than this—aberration.
Seigaku's tennis regulars and Echizen Ryoma, who was guaranteed to sign up for the team once the semester began next week, had gathered on the courts for practice. Everyone's focus had remained unbroken, tinged with a desperate desire to catch and preserve these fleeting moments of their last season together as a team where nothing else could overrule their love of tennis before hard necessity rearranged priorities. With nine people in the courts, Inui had agreed to be the odd man out and dispense drinks when needed, and he had been making his usual observations and calculations. He continued to put his complete faith in his wire-ringed notebooks but having his computer handy was always useful; during a break between matches Inui decided to quickly scan his e-mail accounts for anything worthy of record.
Being sent a recipe for making an atomic bomb in his own back yard would have proved less a conundrum than the—thing—sent by his once unimpeachable childhood friend.
Or could Yanagi have done such a thing? A seed of doubt blossomed within Inui's naturally skeptical brain, but he found that he could not do mental calculations when apparently he couldn't even get one his kouhai's three sizes correct.
"And what are you looking at, Inui?" Oishi's voice chirped as he came over for a hit of energy drink. Inui broke out of his trance and raised his hand to slam the laptop shut in a futile race to prevent the meltdown; he swore he could sense the brain cells in his vice-captain's head fusing together in that terrible instant.
"AN ABOMINATION," said Oishi.
"What's an abomination, nyah?"
The shriek had everyone else at practice come running to find the source of the tumult. Eiji pounced upon Oishi's back, got an eyeful, and blurted out a description of the picture to all the players who were unable to see. "Ryuuzaki-chan is with another man who's not O-chibi and has her hair down!"
"Who's with her, Eiji-senpai? Tell me so I can go beat up his punk ass," trumpeted Momoshiro in his defiance and outrage; his finger joints popped with slapping one fist into his open palm. Kaidoh then expressed his doubt that Momo could beat up anyone, which naturally would have erupted into another argument if not for Eiji's timely answer.
"Ah, he looks buffer than I remember, but I think it's Kirihara, nyah."
Momo amended his speech without a beat. "In that case I say we let Echizen and maybe Kaidoh do the job."
"Figures you're not up to it after all. I guess Kirihara's too tough for you," sneered Kaidoh.
In a miraculous fit of clear-headedness Momo did not follow up on the bait, settling instead for slamming his knuckles into the crown of Ryoma's head and jerking his teammate's head around and pointing at the laptop screen. "Now look at that, Echizen! See what you did. This is all your fault."
"My fault? I didn't do anything." More than two years abroad had not done much to shave away the apathy to everything not-tennis which encased Ryoma like a reptilian patina. Only the twisting of his lip at the photo indicated he had noticed it at all.
"Exactly! You didn't do anything. That's why Ryuuzaki-chan is posing with her hair down with a buff Kirihara next to an awesome car on the beach! Because you're stupid!"
Jerking away from Momo's accusations, Ryoma did not give the dignity of a response but took a disdainful swig out of his Ponta can. A few paltry drops were all that remained, so the can was quickly crushed underfoot. Momo ceased railing and smirked knowingly.
In the meantime the other team members were taking in the horror. Tezuka had gone totally rigid, so motionless that Inui hurried to mix a potent juice to hold under his captain's nose in an attempt to snap him out of his stupor. Kaidoh dismissed the whole thing as stupid and Eiji kept chattering away to both Oishi and Fuji.
"Nyah, isn't Ryuuzaki-chan's hair so pretty? It looks all warm and snuggly like one of my bears. I could roll up in it like a blanket. D'you think she'd let me snorgle with it when school starts again, Oishi? Eh? Oishi? Are you listening to me, Oiiiiiiiishi?"
At the sudden jerk of his mount's back, Eiji tumbled to the ground. Oishi's mind had appeared to snap along with control of his voice box volume, his wide eyes filled with blank horrors only his hennish mind could envision.
"THIS IS TERRIBLE. WE CAN'T EVEN PROTECT OUR OWN KOHAI. WE HAVE FAILED. WE ARE THE WORST SENPAI EVER."
"Nyah, Oishi, it's not so bad—" Thinking that glomps could act like a white blood cell enveloping and destroying a virus, Eiji tried to envelop his friend's distress in a hug. Oishi would not be consoled.
"WORST SENPAI EVER."
In his usual cheer, Fuji breezed through the team closer to the pixellated heart of darkness. He peered with searching and open eyes at the digital photograph for a brief time before straightening, his benevolent smile silencing everyone else. "You all know it's fake, don't you? It's clearly a manipulation."
"Well—obviously parts are," said Momo. "I mean, the car and the beach probably. But what's real and what's not? Could—could they be real?" His hands hovered with their palms turned outward, turning in dial-cranking motions. "It's not that I've ever looked, but I didn't think they had gotten so—well, you know. Ow! Damn." He bounced on one foot to massage his abused toes, upon which Ryoma's racket, slipped from his hand, had crashed. "I said I've never looked!"
"Accident," grunted Ryoma.
Fuji chuckled. "Of course they're not real. You can trust me, I know these things. I'm a photographer."
"Senpai!" Kaidoh alone had the ability to try and shame the shameless; everyone else leveled out scandalized glares.
"Oh, come on. My sister always told me that the human body is a work of art and should be appreciated. Besides, there's no harm in it. Everybody thinks we're all gay anyway."
"THEY DO?" asked Oishi.
"Why else are we so popular with the girls at school?" Fuji rejoined kindly, gently as if leading a child through a difficult lesson. Oishi nodded. " YOU MAKE AN UNDERSTANDABLE AND VALID POINT."
Amidst all of this falderal Tezuka stood motionless, speechless, seemingly senseless, sucking all external stimuli past the event horizon of his own gravity; two distinct red blotches like the great storm on Jupiter whorled onto his cheeks. The words that calmly erupted were mild and all the more terrible for being so.
"I am going into the locker rooms to make a call. No one is to follow me."
One of Fuji's eyelids cracked open in glee. "To Sanada, yes? Are you planning on being nasty, Kunimitsu?"
"It will be a very strongly-worded call," was all the reply Fuji received. "As for the rest of you, get back to work. Quickly. Inui will take my place against you, Echizen. Every second you're not on the court means ten extra laps."
The familiar old threat sent all of the regulars hustling away despite some players' longing to shadow their captain and listen in on his strongly-worded call in the hope of being present for the momentous occasion when Tezuka finally demonstrated whether he knew any curse words. Straggling behind the others as he walked back to his court, Ryoma gave the picture one last rueful glance, smirking at those ridiculous massy waves of hair. He had always been sure that that hair was just dead weight and only made her more clumsy by putting her off-center. It was amazing, really, the damage that one girl could do without even being there.
Ryoma pulled down the brim of his cap over his eyes.
"Ryuuzaki, you're still nothing but trouble for me."
At the Atobe household
"This is an affront Ore-sama's intelligence and sensibility."
A dismissive wave at the computer had the faithful Kabaji toting the offending thing away from Atobe's sight, soon to be cast away from mind as well. If anyone were to dare suggest that he had the most miniscule of faults, Atobe would have considered the complaint arose from simple derangement; so if anyone had the temerity to hint that he was stupid or unobservant, he would not think anything of it. Did an elephant waste time on stomping upon the ant? No, his powers of perception were unequaled, and Atobe could spot a manipulated photo with but a single glance.
"It does amuse Ore-sama that they tried to trick him by sending that—thing—from one of Yanagi's e-mail accounts. Did they think Ore-sama so gullible? Even, oh, say, Kintarou from Shitenhouji could tell that Yanagi would never do such a thing. Ore-sama wagers that it was probably Niou's doing. Isn't that right, Kabaji?"
"Ossu." The phrase was spoken with slightly more conviction than was Kabaji's wont, and, in an instance that was becoming increasingly rarer nowadays, Atobe's other teammates had to agree. Choutarou expressed confusion about the random elements in the photograph and the judicious alterations, to which Shishido gave the standard curt reply: "Because Niou's a punk-ass pimple on society's ass. All that switching around with his partner's damaged his brains. Kirihara's pretty much the same. I bet they were in on it together. Ryuuzaki probably doesn't have a clue yet."
"Poor Ryuuzaki-chan," sighed Choutarou. "It's too silly to be taken seriously, but I bet she'll be teased for it—" As the implications fully unfurled themselves to him, his pale cheeks grew chalky, the hairs at his temple dampening. "Maybe we should call her and tell her about it? It'd be good to give her a warning."
Lounging in his chair, Atobe stretched out his luxurious legs in a yawn and gave yet another wave. "Nonsense. What've we got to do with it? Tezuka has plenty of sense and initiative—otherwise he would not be fit to be Ore-sama's rival. Seigaku can take care of their own. Ore-sama does not see how there could be any fuss. It's just a totally manipulated picture, that's all. Fake chest, fake arms, fake hair. Bah!"
Oshitari had detained Kabaji, stopping him from closing out the screens on the computer before closing it; the pixels reflected in the lenses of his glasses under his scrutiny. A few seconds later, lips light in an expression that the team knew boded nothing good, he made his pronouncement.
"The hair's not fake."
That brought Atobe's languid neck snapping up, brows knit. "Come again, Oshitari?"
"Her hair's not fake. It's naturally like that. Nothing's been altered about it."
"What! You're joking. Kabaji, bring that back right now. Ore-sama must take a closer look. There's just no way."
He glared at the computer, taking it all in again, and as the seconds passed his teeth grated together, his hands reached up to stroke his own fine-styled hair for reassurance. From the way his fingers grasped at the strands the others could tell that Atobe was weighing and measuring, only to find something lacking. Oshitari propped up his glasses with a jaunty twinkle.
"I must say, when her hair is down you see what good care she uses in taking care of it. She must have spent years on growing it out. Don't you agree, Ootori?"
"It's—nice, I guess," murmured Choutarou. He looked to Shishido for support and found nothing but scorn. All gazes were still riveted on their captain, who finally slammed down the computer screen and kicked at the plug to rip it from the wall. He pronounced his opinion in even and measured tones.
"Ore-sama thinks that, despite his magnanimous heart, he's beginning to hate this girl just a little bit."
"Oh, great," muttered Hiyoshi and Gakuto.
"And why's that," drawled Jirou from the couch.
" Why? You ask why? She's insulted Ore-sama on numerous occasions, spurned his generosity, brought that harpy friend of hers into his own house, called his hair inferior to that of Yukimura, and now she dares to flaunt her own hair at him. As if Ore-sama were nothing! The nerve of it all! Ore-sama is her equal—"
"But not her superior, eh?" laughed Gakuto, enjoying this dance around the wounded dragon very much.
"Ore-sama demands that you shut up."
"Maybe if you hadn't shaved your hair back in middle school, you'd have surpassed her by now. But I guess we'll never know now, will we?" asked Oshitari.
"Silence! How could Ore-sama know that someone could possibly match the splendor of his own hair when it was always put up in—those—stupid—dinky—infantile pigtails? The deceitful wench! Oh, but she shows her hair to Rikkai Dai, does she? She and Yukimura were probably spending their time braiding each other's hair and putting little flowers behind their ears and laughing at Ore-sama behind his back! Conspiracy!"
Somehow managing to wheel upon them while still sitting in his chair, Atobe sliced the air with his hand. "None of you are to ever make contact with Ryuuzaki or Seigaku before the contest. I forbid it! So what if she's had a stupid picture of herself taken—that's obviously what she wanted, to gain attention to that stupid, lustrous, magnificent hair. Let her have her attention if she wants it so badly!"
Any attempts by Ootori to appeal to Atobe's better availed nothing.
Eventually, as Atobe kept on stewing and fuming in a black sulk, the remainder of the team sneaked away from the room to head towards the courts. Whenever Atobe was in a rare funk, his preferred coping mechanism was to hit the courts and practice the team until they bled. It was best to get things over with as soon as possible.
"Give him about a day," nodded Hiyoshi. "He usually cools off by then. I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid. I swear, if he calls Ryuuzaki to bitch about her hair—"
"He will," said Oshitari.
"This is terrible. It just keeps getting worse and worse. Why does it keep on getting worse and worse?" moaned Ootori.
"You do all realize that our captain is going mad with jealousy, don't you," said Shishido. Gakuto, mind on the grueling practice in store for them, gave a mere shrug.
"He's a true genius, yo. Lots of geniuses are bug-ass crazy."
And to this sage assessment no other words could be added.
At the Tachibana household
Tachibana Ann saw her brother hunched over his computer screen in such rapt concentration that he did not turn his head in the slightest at her passing footsteps. Ann's face twisted and she crept behind him on tigerlike tread. She did always take such delight in ratting on his prurient interests, even if the very thought of her older brother enjoying the greatest Internet pastime did oil her skin with a skeezy coat that only multiple showers could wash away.
"Heya, big brother! Looking at something that mom should know about?" she blared out, taking great satisfaction in how high he jumped out of his chair. Her arms slipped around his neck in a loose choke hold as she braced herself for whatever dirty picture was to meet her scrutiny; upon taking in the scene she squeezed her forearms in a vice around Kippei's neck.
"You pig," she shrieked. "What the hell is this? Why are you looking at it? How dare you treat my friend Sakuno-chan like this! Ass-kicking awaits you!"
Kippei managed to avoid his ass-kicking with difficulty. Many appeals to her common sense and reason, that he never would do such a thing to his sister's friend, that he had thought the e-mail safe because of its origin, finally quelled Ann's wrath. She settled for venting her spleen in other directions as she paced tight circles around the room.
"Why is she hanging out with Kirihara? He's pure evil and crabass incarnate. She knows what he's like. Why's she giving him the time of day? Maybe he's faking being nice to her so he can draw her in and then—! No, I can't let that happen, I won't let that happen. I'd see him dead first," she muttered.
Kippei coughed. "I see you're taking this well."
"Shut up! It's not one of your friends that's running the risk of getting her face smashed in. You may be a dummy, big brother, but I at least haven't forgotten what Kirihara did to you. He's a time-bomb. Next thing I know, he could just haul off on a bad day and send poor Sakuno-chan to the critical care unit."
"I'm pretty sure that certain people would disapprove of that."
"Still! It's just hideous to even consider that Sakuno-chan would ever hang out with, let alone date someone like that. Anyone else would be better for her. Agh—that jerk Kirihara! She needs to be warned about him. It's not too late. I'll call Sakuno-chan soon, yeah, make her see reason. Love her to death but her doormattiness is going to hurt her if she's not careful. I swear, she needs to be put under house arrest for her own good."
Ann halted her circumambulations to look to her brother for confirmations of her ideas; an empty chair where her brother had sat, the furniture, and a squashed bug in one corner were her audience. Oh, once her brother came out of his doubtless locked bedroom—and he had to come out sometime, yes—she'd have some choice words with him.
But for now she would have to come up with a way of broaching the subject and performing an intervention, if only for her friend's sweet sake.
At St. Rudolph's
"And so you see, Yanagisawa, it was a blessing in disguise. You're far too good for a girl like her. See the extent of her lack of taste and tartiness. Not only are her bosoms lopsided, how smart can she be if she hangs out with Rikkai Dai?"
"Mizuki-senpai, that's no way to talk about a girl!"
"Silence, Yuuta-kun. You're only on her side because she makes you dinner all the time. You're under the delusion that that makes you special—think again! She's a food floozy who doesn't say 'no' to anyone who asks her for a bite. She serves food to you, to your brother (my eternal rival!), to his team, to all Rikkai Dai . . . how can you stand it? It's shameless. Yanagisawa doesn't need any part of that."
"Mizuki's right, da ne. I sure dodged a bullet. Better off finding out now before we got married or something."
"That's the spirit. Stop twitching, Yuuta-kun, it's unseemly. And more good news, Yanagisawa! To get revenge on this little pop-tart, I took the liberty of forwarding that picture from Yanagi-san to the Yamabuki players. The shame of it! She'll weep herself to sleep."
"Mizuki-senpai! How—how could—agh!"
"Ah, everyone, while Yuuta-kun's choking on his own rage over there, I'm getting replies already. Let's see what they have to say."
The three brief messages that flashed across Mizuki's screen read as follows:
Don't send me anything like this again, please. I don't understand what's going on. Does Sakuno-chan do performance art? Does Kirihara-san? So confused, desu.
This is hot. Crazy girls who act innocent are the best girls! Lucky lucky! More pictures later, plz? ᶓᶔᶓᶔ
("What the hell are those supposed to be? Shamrocks?")
And finally:
GO STICK YOUR DICKS IN A CHEERIO, RUDOLPH.
"Ah—well! We have rattled them, even Akutsu! Your honor is being avenged, Yanagisawa. My plan is coming to perfect fruition—oh, dammit, Yanagisawa, why are you crying this time? You should be happy you're free from such trashiness."
"But, but Sengoku's right; the skanky, crazy girls make the best girlfriends, da ne! I blew my chance. Now that we're on to her, she'll never come here again! And—ow!owowow! Stop punching me, da ne! Yuuta, stop! I'm your senpai!"
"Yes, we're both your senpai! Arrrrgh! You kicked me! No, Yuuta-kun, I am your creator! I brought you in, trained you! No!"
At Shitenhouji
Like almost everyone else on the forwarding list, Shiraishi had not been expecting the picture in his e-mail folder. In the opposite manner of almost everyone else who viewed it, however, he had burst out laughing from the start and enjoyed the thing for the ridiculousness it was. The somewhat familiar girl in the picture—perhaps he heard his old Tachibana friends and Kin-chan mentioned something about a girl from time to time—did not pique his interest. Kirihara he did know, and it was a treat to see the brat's inner kiddy dreams to be displayed for all to mock.
"Can't believe that we're all intimidated by this kid on the courts at Nationals. What a dork," he laughed to himself. He debated on whether or not to show the photo to his team in order to bolster their spirits for the upcoming Nationals, to show them that Rikkai Dai were hardly the monsters they were cracked up to be, but the choice flew out of his hands. Soon Kintarou came bouncing over to his captain, who showed him the picture for a laugh. Kin-chan did snicker at first, his grind becoming wider while he shoved a finger at the screen.
"It's Sakuno-chan! You know, my friend who makes such delicious mochi balls!"
Shiraishi's sense of recognition bloomed forth. Kintarou sometimes talked about a Sakuno-chan or Ryuuzaki-chan, often in the context of 'Koshimae's semi-girlfriend' or when she sent him a batch of sweets. He also believed that she was a good friend of Ann's.
"I wonder what she's doing with Rikkai Dai," he mused aloud, not trusting that Kintarou would have the attention span to care. "I thought she's Seigaku. Perhaps she transferred."
However, Kintarou did have a better memory when people who both fed him on a regular basis and were friends with Koshimae were concerned.
"Nah, we talked on the phone just a few weeks ago. She still goes to Seigaku High. But it is kinda weird, isn't it? What do you think it means, Buchou?" Kintarou's eyes reddened and watered. "Is it a bad sign? Maybe she doesn't like Koshimae anymore. Maybe she'll never talk to me and I'll never get to have her mochi ever again. Are the good times over? Please say they aren't, Buchou!"
He deigned to smile his indulgence. "The good times are not over, Kintarou."
"Oh good, I was worried there for a second. Let me see—hey, what's wrong with her hair? Usually it's all twisted up like noodles, but it looks different here. It's pretty, kinda like chocolate cotton candy but less frizzy. I can taste it right now. It's delicious!"
While the jungle-boy slobbered over his fantasies of edible hair, chance graced Shiraishi with a time to strike. Clucking his tongue as a proper captain should, he beckoned over his kouhai with a bandaged finger and began to whisper.
"But did you know, Kin-chan, that her hair is only tasty and pretty when it's down like that? When it's in braids, the hair gets angry at being imprisoned and they become poisonous if you touch them. So don't touch 'em! Or eat 'em, for that matter."
"Are they as poisonous as your fingers, Buchou?"
"A hundred times deadlier. And the thing is, you don't even have to touch the braids to get killed. They come alive, you know. They look all cute and innocent and they wait until your guard is down, and then bam—they coil around your neck and strangle you to death and it's the end for you!"
Kintarou shook and screamed at this point. "No!"
"Yes! I warned you before about Echizen—you think he'd just let any kind of girl hang around him? They're both demons in disguise."
Kintarou trembled for a few seconds until he regained some clarity of thought, his brows knotted with great effort. "But you were wrong about Koshimae. He's not a demon at all. I think you're making this up just to mess with me, Buchou."
Face solemn, Shiraishi stared down his junior. "I'm hurt that you have such a lack of trust in me, Kin-chan, that you think I would lie to you about this. You tell me that Echizen is not a poisonous demon like I warned you about. But you tell me this—can you prove to me that he is not a demon?"
A bite of the lip, a shuffle of the feet, fidgeting of the fingers, and Kintarou stared up at Shiraishi. "Well, he's never appeared or acted like a demon to me. He can't be one. His fingers never even gave out poison waves."
"Just because they didn't send out waves every time you saw them doesn't mean that Echizen's fingers aren't poisonous, you know. And likewise, just because Ryuuzaki's braids never harmed you, that doesn't mean your own experience is the only one. I know of five people who were attacked by those braids myself. Maybe it's because Echizen and his girl like you so they won't poison you. Or else they like you so much that—" here Shiraishi ducked close to Kintarou's quivering face, eyes ablaze. "So much that they want to save you for later and fatten you up so that they can EAT YOU!"
With a strangled cry of terror muddled with betrayal and despair, Kintarou rocketed away towards the tennis courts. Shiraishi was certain that was where the kid was headed because he had often told Kintarou that the courts were a place of healing and power where opposing players' poison and evil psychic vibes could not harm him. It was a great way of making sure that Kintarou went through his normal training regimen since he would stay for hours into the evenings before Regionals and Nationals to ward off any supernatural attacks.
Shiraishi found it best to follow Kintarou and oversee his practice, so, with a last laugh at the picture Rikkai send to him, he shut down the computer's top and moved onwards. Along the way he thought to himself: 'I really have to those two a thank-you gift one of these days. Even when I just talk about them, they're the best people at keeping Kin-chan in line that I know."
At Rikkai Dai
In the spacious locker rooms of Rikkai Dai's high school Niou contested in a game of hide and seek; the prize for winning the game would the rights to Niou's life. He ducked behind darkened corners, slunk under benches, making no sound but for the rattling of his heart in his ribcage. He was flagging—he could tell they were closing in. If he was lucky the one pursuer who wasn't armed would reach him first; he figured he could take Marui on in a fair fight. But if one or another, maybe both, of the others caught him, he knew it'd be curtains.
A draft of air breezed past his ear. He started and dashed his ankle against a sharp corner. His bastard teammates had locked all of the exits except the front entrance—if only he could sneak past! His own teammates—if only Yagyuu had said a word in his defense, did something! But Yagyuu, his own partner, had ditched him.
"B-b-bastards," Niou whispered, sweat trickling into his mouth and salting his tongue as he reflected upon what exactly had brought him so low. What sin could a man commit in a single lifetime to deserve such a fate?
Never before had he received such a fright as he had that morning—he had gone to practice, expecting a normal day of grueling exertion and yelling, and instead Yukimura's face had met him at the door, a very pleasant, smiling face that greeted him with every bit of warmth. It had been the most horrible thing Niou had ever seen, and for once he truly thought that he had done nothing wrong to merit Yukimura's terrifying attentions; he could come up with nothing. His practice attendance was good, his form good, his desire for winning and attitude good.
"You're acting all sweetness and rainbows today, buchou," he managed out in the last vestiges of his bravado. "What's the catch?"
"Please, Masaharu-kun, come in, come in, have some tea and snacks with me. I wish to have a few friendly words with you."
Niou had planned to dash out of the door and lie low for a few days, but he knew how fast Yukimura could move when so inclined. Niou let himself be lead towards one of the offices at the front of the locker room complex and eyed the tea and its large curls of steam very carefully as Yukimura poured it.
"Drink," said Yukimura, his fine hairs swaying gently to deny Niou the chance to blow away the steam from his drink. As Niou tried to slurp down the tea and only gagged and sputtered, Yukimura grinned. "You've got a mouth like a cat today, Masaharu."
"Just get this over with, buchou. Whatever I did, I'm probably sorry."
The response came after Yukimura took a few luxurious sips from his own cup. "Did you know that Sanada received a very interesting phone call just a few hours ago?"
"So?"
"It was from Tezuka."
"Niou, I'm beginning to lose patience with you. Did you honestly think that you could send a prank picture to Seigaku and get away with it?"
Despite himself Niou broke out into laughter at the memory. "Oh, that! Hey, I didn't make that picture. Aka-chan did it. Well, most of it anyway."
The smile did not falter, in fact it grew wider, and Niou stopped laughing. "I'm afraid that you're missing the point. If it were only a prank on Kirihara, it'd just be business as usual and I'd let you off with a few slaps from Sanada, maybe a free punch or two from Kirihara. But you see, it's become more complicated than that. Can you guess why? Go ahead. You're a smart fellow."
The possibility was so ludicrous that it took Niou a few seconds of lip-chewing and bouncing in his seat before he arrived at what his captain was driving. "Aaaaaah. Was it just because Ryuuzaki was in the picture too? Why would that be a complication?"
"According to Sanada, Tezuka was slightly upset on his kouhai's behalf. Apparently Tezuka baby-sat Ryuuzaki-san when they were younger. I think you misjudged Seigaku this time."
"What? Just because I included her in a silly picture? Come on, Buchou!"
"You gave her a D-cup."
"So? Every flat-chested chick wants that!"
"Listen to me, Niou. Your harmless little prank has resulted in a few disadvantages for our team in the upcoming season—our final season together, mind you. One: you've only added fire to Seigaku's desire to beat us this season. They've always had a better mental game than we have, and you've made it worse. Two: Ryuuzaki is going to hear about this any minute and she is going to be angry at all of us, not just you. When I even suggested the possibility that she would never make any food for the team because of this, Marui cried like a little girl. "
Once again Niou laughed and spat in the face of mortal peril by a laughing aloud.
"—And three: Kirihara is very upset."
"How upset? Did he cry too? He made that picture! The only reason I did it was to show him how much of a baby he was being."
"He's been in Red-Eyes mode for three hours. We had to put him under a cold shower for the first hour and bind up his hands to keep him from attacking anything in sight."
"Well, damn."
The chair squeaked with Yukimura's deep sigh and bent posture and his fingers templed under his chin, the smile disappeared. "Although I hoped it wouldn't come to this, I'm going to have to censure you, Niou. Sanada and Tezuka would never let it go if I didn't make an example of you. You know as well as any of us what the standards of Rikkai Dai are, and we do not go around sending out pictures with gag boobs and ruining innocent girls' reputations just to make a point."
At the snap of the captain's fingers any and all chance for Niou's protestations and pleas for mercy was snatched away. Shadows filled the door and their iron hands clamped on Niou's shoulders. Jackal and Yagyuu's blank eyes promised no mercy and were unmoved when Niou invoked their past camaraderie. Niou nearly wept for betrayal when Yagyuu helped Jackal force him towards the lockers and showers, Yukimura's sweet voice trailing behind:
"You have two minutes' head start before I let Sanada, Kirihara, and Marui in there. Make the most of it. And don't think of escaping through the back doors. I had Renji jury-rig them so that you'll get an electric shock if you touch them."
One sharp kick against his rear later, Niou tumbled into the locker rooms. None of the overhead lights were on. He knew the place like the insides of his eyelids, so at first Niou was confident that he could navigate in the pitch without trouble until he discovered the painful way that all of the furniture had been rearranged. Tennis balls and training equipment were scattered all over the floor. He would have been impressed if not for the terror; this was exactly how he'd set things up.
And now here he was, groping blindly along the floor, desperately seeking the bathroom. He could hole up in there. The others would give up eventually. He'd have a water source in there. He could hold out—
A soft noise, a flashlight, and a pair of geta assaulted his disoriented senses, and here came that sinking feeling. "F-fukubuchou."
"You have dishonored me, Niou."
One of his arms crooked behind his back, hiding something, and Niou easily guessed what Sanada was holding; his dread sickened into fear when Sanada pulled out not a wooden bokuto but a full-fledged steel katana.
"Goddamn, Fukubuchou! You've gone crazy. You really trying to kill me? I'm one of the best doubles players this team's ever had!"
All of the cold fury and calculation on Sanada's face melted away. "Silence! You have no idea of what Tezuka said to me! The things he called me. I must restore my honor—" Niou's ponytail fluttered, limp and lifeless, to the floor as years' worth of growing out his lovely silver hair vanished in a single stroke.
"You've gone crazy, Fukubuchou!"
"Yes. Crazy with dishonor." In a cool motion Sanada turned his head and raised his voice. "Oi! He's over here!"
Niou rejoiced when Sanada sheathed the katana, but his relief at not being diced was short-lived as Sanada clamped down on his legs and began dragging him. In the distance Niou noted the approach of two other flashlights and the squelching of wet tennis shoes. Damp tendrils further obscured Kirihara's face in weird shadows, bloodshot eyes burning from the depths like unholy fires.
"Just you wait, Niou, you bastard, I'm coming for ya! Shower or not, I'm coming for ya! I'll menace you like a spider monkey! Buchou said I could, so it's all right!"
Marui's shouts were intermingled with sobs. "Give me back all the cakes from Sakuno-chan I'll never eat! You stole them from me, Niou! Bring 'em back!"
For the rest of his life—as indeed he did survive that day, and without too many physical injuries—Niou could never fully recall what happened afterward. Everyone else said that it had been a coping mechanism to shield him from the utter shame. All he could piece together was that involved being hung from one of the basketball court goals, a wire-cup bra, a piece of paper with a bulls-eye drawn on it, and many, many tennis ball barrages.
He later learned that a picture had been taken and delivered to Ryuuzaki, but she never showed it to him and did not send it to anyone else.
Small mercies are the wonders of the world.
At the Ryuuzaki household
"And that is why, Kintarou-kun, that you can't disprove a negative. Do you understand now, or do I have to call Grandma up here so she explain it you one more time?"
"I am not talking to that weird kid again, Sakuno."
"You get it now? Good!" Sakuno finished the impromptu lecture on a beaming note, putting as much pep in her voice as she could. Not half an hour ago she had received a call from him, crying and gibbering about poison and monsters and it had taken her that long to finally talk him down. The migraine spots at her temples throbbed in their desire for a good rubbing and she massaged the left pressure point, her surprise and sympathy for Kin-chan waning as her annoyance waxed with every word his voice carried to her ear.
"Yes, Kintarou-kun, I promise I'm telling you the truth. Ah—um—okay. I swear that my braids will never, ever poison you or strangle you. They can't. Well, you can't always trust what Shiraishi-san tells you. He was probably joking. No, Kintarou-kun, I'm not calling your captain a liar. He just has his facts—mixed up. Ev-everyone makes mistakes. All right. Oh? Oh, please don't! Ryoma-kun doesn't need to be asked anything. It'd probably just bother him. I'm sure he likes you, Kintarou-kun! But you know that his fingers aren't poisonous. Asking him again would only annoy him. Okay. Oh—thank you? I think your hair is—tasty-looking too. Like strawberry!" Giggling at his banter and in relief that the very odd subject matter was over and done with, she jerked her hand at Kintarou's following words and hit banged it on her desk. Months of speech therapy classes jumped out the window as her tongue grew too weak to form words without the old heavy stutter.
"Excuse me? No, I don't have a boyfriend. Well, yes, I do know Akaya-kun, we've become friends over the summer. What—oh, you know I can't date until I'm sixteen. What do you mean, 'open season'? Yes, I like Akaya-kun—no, not more than I like you or Ryoma-kun. Kintarou-kun, you're asking an awful lot of questions." As a sign of heaven's infrequent mercy, Sakuno tripped over her own bedroom floor rug and went tumbling; a clothes hamper and some items from her desk crashed with her. "Ouch, I just took a tumble, that's all. I better get all of this stuff picked up. Good night, Kintarou-kun!"
Rattled by the bizarre conversation, Sakuno decided the best way to retrieve equilibrium would be to phone Tomo-chan before going to bed. Perhaps they could arrange an outing to commemorate the first day back at school after summer break, and if Tomo-chan was in a charitable enough mood maybe Ann-chan could come with them.
And the ride—the ride is so smooth
You must be a limousine!
Little red corvette
Baby, you're much too fast-
Some of the English words Sakuno could understand but they made absolutely no sense. This was not the normal ringtone Tomo-chan assigned to her calls. She did not have the chance to ponder too much on the mystery as a snorting voice answered, a voice so unrecognizable that Sakuno feared that one of Tomo-chan's brothers had answered instead. In spite of the vicious beatings they had received for past offenses they still liked to prank call her now and then.
"Sakuno! Why haven't you been answering your phone? I've been trying to get you for the last thirty minutes!" The shrillness proved that this was none other than the true Tomo-chan.
"Oh, Kintarou-kun just called me. He wanted to know if my braids were ever going to strangle and eat him."
"Oh-kay. It took you that long to talk to him? This is far more serious than your dumb cannibal braids! Listen Sakuno-chan, I heard something and saw something, but I need to hear it from you before I beat up anyone or anything."
"What did you hear, Tomo-chan?"
"I—" Any answer gave way to a heavy sigh. "It's too much. I can't even sum up on the phone. But this is huge, Sakuno-chan, it's huge. So tomorrow before classes you need to come and talk to me at the school gate. Don't talk to anyone else, okay? Nobody! Not even Ann."
"Aren't you being a little cryptic, Tomo-chan?" The short second of dead air followed by the sound of a sharp intake of breath were clear enough warning signals that Sakuno's hand instinctively jerked the phone away from her ear before the following shriek burst one of her eardrums.
"FLOOZIES DON'T GET ANSWERS!"
On that note Tomo-chan disconnected the call to leave Sakuno to stare at the darkened phone screen in bemusement. Finally, in a delayed reaction of synapse activity, Sakuno remembered that Akaya-kun had texted her last evening, which lead her to reminiscing a bit about her Tanabata trip and then recalling that Horio-kun and the others had been there. Now that she had an inkling as to why Tomo-chan had been so upset, she laughed out of exasperation and began to get ready for an untroubled bedtime. When she clambered into bed her head was light upon the pillow.
'I'll just tell Tomo-chan the truth,' she thought in the last vestiges of consciousness. 'Once she hears about the trip from me she'll believe me and this will all be cleared up.'
COMING UP: Nothing gets cleared up.