Thanks for the lovely reviews! Keeps me going on bad days at work. And honestly, I mean really bad.

But enough of the negativity. As a show of gratitude, here's an early Christmas present for everyone!

Hope you'll enjoy chapter 25.

Had it been an ordinary day, she would have gawked at herself for yelling at an inanimate, unflappable streetlight.

Had it been an ordinary day, she would still be certain that fingers don't grow on streetlamps.

Or a dark silhouette of a person attached to said fingers, for that matter.

Akemi snapped her guard in place when the fingers retreated back to the shadow, and backtracked several paces.

A young man moved into the light cast by the overhead lamp. He couldn't be any older than her. Where shadows fell on his strapping profile, the prominently well-toned muscles rippled beneath his impeccable Rikkai High uniform, as he adjusted the straps of his school bag and duffle hanging from one broad shoulder. His built was similar to Sanada; perhaps an inch or two taller in height.

Though somewhat shrouded in the shadows, the coldness glinting behind those cool grey eyes was hauntingly apparent as they regarded her in a standoffish manner.

Alert for any funny moves, Akemi held the look for an unnerving period of time.

In situation like this, the stalker would normally strike up a conversation right?

This one though, seemed rather...taciturn.

Akemi mentally shook her head. There were more pressing matters than conjuring a scanty analysis of her 'stalker'. Putting up a front, she narrowed her eyes into a glare and stood up straighter. It was a pathetic shot at appearing intimidating, seeing how he towered over her. But she couldn't care less even if he was the height of Tokyo Tower at the present.

"You followed me," she accused, "didn't you?"

During the walk from school, there were few instances when she felt like somebody was watching her. Each time it lasted for a brief moment, Akemi had brushed it aside as paranoia borne from the fear that one of the regulars might have followed her to the park.

Naïve she was.

'Hang on,' Akemi examined the visible parts of his features, 'This guy – he looks...familiar.'

The stalker cocked his head, as if mulling over the straightforward question; his short spikes of jet-black hair rippled in the gentle breeze. "On the contrary," his voice deep and rather monotonous rumbled, "I've been keeping tabs on you longer than you think." He bowed his head a little with flair. "Murakami Yasuaki, class president of 3-A, and captain of the boy's karate club."

Akemi scowled. "Captain of the boy's karate club?"

"It appears you're unconvinced," he observed, calmly.

One of his hands dove into his blazer's pocket.

Taken aback, Akemi rapidly backtracked again, shifting her posture to a defensive mode. Countless grisly possibilities cropped up in her mind –

"Catch."

Acting on instinct rather than command, she flung her hands out and caught the object between her hands. She looked down.

It was a student ID card holder.

Akemi gave the Rikkai emblem embossed on the cover a cursory glance and flipped the leather case open. She cross-checked the photo on the card with the person in front and skimmed through the details printed at the bottom. Double-checked again, she tossed the item back to its rightful owner who caught it effortlessly in one hand.

"You said that you've been monitoring me," her eyes narrowed with thinly veiled distrust. "What is a senpai like you want from me?"

"Simple..." Murakami pocketed his ID card, and needlessly patted down his blazer. "...your resignation."

"What?"

"You've met my counterpart. Frankly speaking, I don't understand what she sees in you."

Akemi heard every syllable of his muttering.

"She dawdled enough, that Kotone." The cool grey eyes turned to the noirette. "But unlike her, I don't have the patience of a saint." Haughtily, he lifted his chin and gazed down at her. An emotion closely resembling resentment flashed behind his eyes, but it disappeared too quickly for Akemi to be sure. "You're obviously a fool for not accepting her offer immediately," Murakami scoffed.

"What does it have to do with you?" Akemi asked out of polite curiosity.

"Have you not heard what I said?" There was a slight patronising tone in his voice. "I am the karate captain of the boy's division. Title aside – as a fellow karateka, it's despairing to see such potential wilting away in a club, surrounded by a gob of uncouth misfits."

Undoubtedly, he was referring to the eight regulars. (In all fairness, Akemi had far more...umm...creative collective nouns for them on stressful days.)

"I've heard about the type of training conditions – the rules and regulations – from the odd tennis club members from my class," Murakami disclosed, reminding Akemi that Sakurai and Ishikawa-senpai were both from class 3-A. "Don't you find the way your captain and vice-captain lead the club the least disturbing?"

"Frankly? Yes," Akemi said after a few moments of pondering. "Trainings might be ruthless and harsh, but I'm sure we're not the only clubs around with such crazy regime," she asserted, firm conviction steeped in her voice and countenance...

...until...

"They're using you."

Gobsmacked, Akemi blurted, "What? That's absurd!"

"Can you not see?" Murakami flourished a hand in the air as if to illustrate his point. "By condemning you to mundane tasks – not only do they take away the liberty of your time – they belittle your competences."

"That's not true," Akemi retaliated.

"Once a threat emerged," Murakami carried on indifferently, "their greed and selfishness materialised, taking the form of frantic desperation."

From a distance, faint echoes of footsteps falling on the path drifted over. Neither heeded them.

"Who's going to look after the tennis club while the eight of them are at camp? Ensure everything's just as it were before they left? Handle the paperwork? Liaise with the sports department and administration? Manage the intrusive fanmails clogging up the club's email account?"

He definitely wasn't kidding about observing her for a long time.

"To them, you're just a convenience," Murakami motioned towards her with a hand. "A subservient girl filling the role once evenly distributed among the Big Three, pandering to their every need when they flagrantly disregard yours."

Akemi felt her resolve swayed treacherously. There was a small resemblance of truth behind his words that left a nasty sting embedded in her heart. She lowered her head, in an attempt to hide her face behind her dark tresses.

In spite of herself, her lips curled inward with abhorrence.

Subservient? Her?

Hands balled into fists.

If he thought she's the type to grovel at anyone's feet, then he'd committed a serious offense with such presumptuous remark.

Akemi's tenacity struck back. "That's not true."

His expression remained aloof as ever. "They don't deserve you."

The footfalls echoing in the night grew louder until it became evident that someone was walking towards them.

With that rather abrupt end lingering in the air, Murakami shifted his attention to the approaching figure.

Akemi followed his gaze. Surprise lit up her features.

And in the dark pit of her stomach, the tight knot loosened a little with a huge sense of relief pouring into her heart.

Judging from the tracksuit, he must have left straight after tennis without changing – and there's that conspicuous cotton gauze pad plastered on his forehead. Atobe Keigo paused in his tracks. He glanced between the two Rikkai students, the bafflement from hearing a meagre portion of the conversation evident on his regal countenance.

As if the Hyotei captain wasn't there, Murakami glanced back to the noirette. His cool grey eyes darkened grimly. "If you're as cautious as you ought to be, then you should know where to stand without contemplation." He casually shoved his hands into his trousers' pockets and turned to leave. "Given my verdict, I've made myself clear. You'd do well handing in your resignation letter first thing tomorrow."

If the Hyotei Captain was startled, he hid it very well behind his usual lofty exterior as Murakami walked past.

Cool grey eyes met royal blue ones.

Their strong jaws set squarely and postured poised with innate ease, both captain from their respective disciplines and rival schools held the look unswervingly – neither throwing in the towel just yet – as if sizing up the other person.

The contact broke.

It was a brief glance that lasted no more than a second.

XXX

Murakami was long gone.

Yet, the silence stretched between the two lingering souls, each deep in their own thoughts.

A gentle breeze blew. The coloured maple trees around them rustled to life, sending both reeling from the high clouds.

The phone returned to her pocket. Gathering her scattered wits, Akemi reduced the gap between them by a derisory number of tottering steps before stopping in front of the Hyotei captain. She mustered a weak smile, which caused her to appear more worn out.

"Keigo-san." As if they were holding a light-hearted conversation, she added with a chirpy lilt, "How's your day been?"

There was the sound of a zip being pulled down.

"So-so."

Her smile widened without straining her facial muscles more. "How did you find me?"

Her text sent to him had comprised of a few words: Meet me at the park near Rikkai?

Likewise, the reply: Coming.

"Instinct," Atobe grunted, shrugging off his jacket. He treaded the remaining distance and draped it over her quivering frame. Wearing a faint frown, he adjusted the Hyotei jacket until he was satisfied that almost every possible inch of her was covered up nice and warm.

Before she could ask him to elaborate, his hands had moved up her face to pinch her cheeks. "OUCH!" Akemi reclaimed her cheeks and rubbed at the garish scarlet spots, glaring at him through tears. "What was that for!?"

"What for?" Atobe sighed dramatically, earning a murderous look. "How about along the line of arranging this meeting at a dodgy setting of a park –"

"Ouch!"

"– filled with the dodgiest people lurking about –"

"Hey!"

"– at dodgy o' clock –"

"Quit it!"

"– in this nippy weather –"

Regardless of her protests, the prods and flicks rained down mercilessly on the parts of her face she wasn't shielding with her hands. Akemi was tempted to use her bag as a better defence. But if she left her cheeks unguarded even for a second, those prods and flicks would certainly attack them at once.

"Alright! Alright!" she yelled. "Geez, I understand! Everything's my fault!"

Atobe paused to scrutinise with his eyebrows raised, evidently taking her words with a pinch of salt. Eventually, his hands withdrew. He snorted derisively, as if to say 'duh'.

But his sharp eyes seemed to soften a bit.

One hand gripping the front of his jacket firmly around her neck, Akemi gingerly brushed a puffy cheek with the other, lips curved downwards in a pout.

"Hmm?"

Akemi flinched away from the advancing hand – only for the fingers to curl around a lock of her hair. The touch was so gentle and cautious, as if handling something fragile, that the noirette was briefly left at a loss.

"Your hair...looks different today." His eyebrows furrowed in a deep frown as if addled by the present puzzle. Atobe watched her hair slithered sinuously from his grasp. The black curtain now flowed freely over her shoulders and appeared longer without its usual gentle ripples. He peered at her 'strange' appearance.

"Oh. This?" Akemi self-consciously touched her head, unused to the lack of undulating sensation under her touch. "It's quite a long story."

Atobe shrugged. "I have time."

Akemi smiled wanly. It was sincere and filled with warm gratitude. At his beckoning, she followed his lead; their light footsteps fell in harmony on the cobbled path.

"Ne, Keigo-san."

"Hn?"

"That thing has been bugging me. What's up with that bandage? Hurt yourself during a match?"

"Hurt myself? Moi?"

For his entire majestic penchant, Atobe let out a barking laugh much to her chagrin.

"What? What's so funnea – OUH! Knock it off with the pinching!"

"You have the gall to act clueless, missy. No thanks to you, I have to hide that hideous bruise. This bandage is enough indignity to last for millennia."

"Maybe I should have left bruises all over your face! Then you'll be prancing about looking like a mummy!"

"You'll be prosecuted by the police if that happens."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh?" A disarming smirk crossed his roguish visage. He lifted his chin up and regarded her with eyes that glinted challengingly. "Have you any idea who you're talking to?" he drawled, already reaching for her cheeks.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Akemi grabbed onto his wrists and wrestled fiercely against them.

The only 'good' it did is increase the pain.

"Hmm...If I do this," he mused aloud, "it'll greatly improvement your look without a do – ARHH! HOI!"

Atobe made to grab the bandage that was brutally ripped from his forehead...

...and his hand grasped air.

Giggling like a little girl, Akemi danced around those grabby hands as he dove for the bandage dangling in her grasp. She might be shorter, hopeless at holding a waltz for two minutes without his royal salvation, and a bumbling idiot to boot – but boy could she dodge.

"Where's your dignity now, hmm?" she smirked teasingly.

Atobe growled, "Why you insolent –"

She cut him off with a cheeky blow of raspberry.

He gawked at her, utterly scandalised at such immature display. What was she? Five?

Akemi sniggered, clearly taking in delight from his expression. It wasn't every day that she could witness the pompous young master turned purple in the face.

Suddenly, Atobe lurched forward, eyes ablaze with deadly ire. "Come here, you!"

Akemi broke off with a squeal of fright. She turned and fled from the incensed beast charging at her.

As the shouts and occasional giggles penetrating the evening air faded, the empty playground settled back to its serene ambiance once more.

XXX

Next day

Wednesday, 12th Nov

7:24am

Morning practice the next day was filled with more tension than usual. The air was so thick with it that a blunt knife could easily leave a clean cut.

It was understandable, given yesterday.

Ignoring the not-so-discreet glances constantly thrown in her direction, Akemi calmly walked up to them. "Sorry to interrupt. Can I borrow Yanagi-san for a moment?"

A brief pause later, two sets of feet walked away from the tennis courts.

Yukimura and Sanada shared a look, both just as dangerously puzzled as the other five.

XXX

"Hmm...interesting."

"You've been saying that for the past five minutes or so."

"Sorry," Yanagi chuckled sheepishly, "Can't help it."

Akemi rolled her eyes.

"Just out of curiosity...why ask me instead of Genichiro?" The Data Master held up the letter he's investigating.

There were several more of those strewn over the picnic table. They were important evidences salvaged from heavy reluctance to bin. Previously irked, Akemi was now thankful for the unexplainable sense of premonition.

"He's more proficient in this art," Yanagi added, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "Also, I've thought you don't trust graphology."

Akemi gazed at the water gushing down the fountain. One arm crossed over her abdomen, she curled a finger around a lock of hair. It felt reassuring to have her hair reverted to its former semblance.

A sigh of exasperation escaped through her parted lips. She was knackered from staying late into the night at a restaurant. After heartfelt apologies for their behaviour on the night of the concert were exchanged, Akemi had explained her whole situation and sought advices from the Hyotei captain over hot, scrumptious meals.

But the essence of the meeting – the true reason she'd arranged it in the first place – was for her to ascertain a few things through the Hyotei captain.

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures." Akemi turned to Yanagi. "Right now, out of the eight, you're the most level-headed one I can rely on."

"I'm flattered."

There was a subtle twitch at the corner of her lips. "Desperate times, Yanagi-san."

"That hurts."

Akemi smothered the giggles into a hand. After confiding in Atobe last night, she felt more at ease. Having an ear to listen to her worries and mouth to give guidance really helped. 'Yukimura was right all along,' she remembered his advises with a touch of dry humour on her curved lips.

"Joking aside," Yanagi broke into her thoughts, "isn't there something else you want to tell me?"

The noirette cocked her head, struggling to fathom his query. When it eventually dawned on her, she smirked almost in a resigned manner. 'Guy is sharp as ever.' Akemi took a few moments to organise her thoughts, and dove into recounting the encounter with Murakami Yasuaki and her suspicions.

When she'd exhausted her memory, Yanagi mulled over the exposition in silence. He frowned at the item in his hand.

A floral print hair bobble sat on his palm. It was old and tattered – the print faded under the cruel corollary of time, the poor elasticity no longer fit for use, and bits of threads stuck out from the tips of the butterfly ribbon. All in all though, the hair bobble seemed well taken care of. There were odd stitches securing the wings and knot together.

But more importantly, the uncanny resemblance between the hair accessory in Yanagi's hand and the one Sugimoto Kotone wore on her high ponytail was astounding.

"What do you think?" Akemi prompted, restless from the waiting. "Are they isolated incidents or mere coincidences?"

Yanagi rubbed his chin pensively. "You found it lying on the floor near the fuse box."

Akemi nodded.

On the day of the school festival, that happened when the electricity suddenly tripped during the climax of their play.

She never quite understood. It was just an old stuff she'd picked up – probably dropped out of someone's pocket – from the ground at the amphitheatre's backstage. Every time she wanted to throw it away, she thought twice and it lived at the bottom of her study desk's drawer since.

Well, just like the letters, it's now an important piece of evidence – a puzzle piece that would potentially connect the mysteries.

Perhaps it really was accidentally dropped by a person walking through the corridor...

...or the perpetrator who fiddled with the fuse box.

"Murakami-senpai said he has been observing me for a long time," Akemi frowned in befuddlement. "That he isn't as patient as Sugimoto-senpai."

"Hmm..."

"Yanagi-san."

"Yes?"

"What kind of relationship does those two have?" Akemi asked, unable to keep the preposterous-sounding speculation at bay. "From what I could glean, Murakami-senpai seems well acquainted with Sugimoto-senpai."

"That's a good observation," Yanagi remarked. "Their situation is complicated but not uncommon. Both of them are from reputable families who manage their own dojos passed down through generations. Located in Kamakura, the Sugimoto Dojo was founded in post-war Japan. Sugimoto Kotone is the current third generation who will inherit her family's dojo from her father." He paused. "Compared to the Sugimoto Dojo though, Murakami is older – having its roots in the Okinawan Islands since the Edo Period. And Murakami Yasuaki is rumoured to succeed his grandfather after graduation."

"Eh? He's not continuing his studies?"

Almost 89% of the Rikkai High populace would go on earning a degree from the best universities at home and abroad. It was one of the prospects that attracted her to begin with. Indeed, it's rather unheard of for a Rikkai graduate not to go down that path...never mind choosing to.

"Why?"

"Being the eldest of three siblings, Murakami-senpai is naturally the ideal heir to the Murakami Dojo," Yanagi expounded. "But don't be hasty to think it's due to birthright. Murakami-senpai not only excels in his field of martial arts and leads the boy's Karate Club since middle school, he's also the top student of his year and received several awards for his academic achievements. Highly decorated, industrious –"

"Overachiever," Akemi mumbled inaudibly, face contorted in a cringe.

"– it isn't surprising that Sugimoto-senpai's father agreed to the marriage proposal."

"Haha – marriage proposal?" Akemi waved a hand flippantly. "Please."

Yanagi whipped out his phone. His thumb moved across the keypad expertly in a series of taps, and he handed the phone to her.

Akemi looked down on the screen. Her eyes bulged to the size of platters.

Taken from the school's online database, the scanned image of a newspaper clipping dating back seven years ago glared back at her. The grainy image had been zoomed in to show a certain announcement in the list of 'forthcoming nuptials'.

"You've got to be kidding me! In this day and age?"

Yanagi pocketed the phone once it was returned. "We are talking about two traditional families here," he gently reminded. "Sugimoto-senpai's the only child, and being the direct descendent, she is the rightful heir to her family dojo. But her father worries that his daughter won't be taken seriously by his students."

"Because she's a girl?"

"Afraid so."

"So...the father thinks if his daughter marries into a well-established family, the Sugimoto Dojo won't be at stake?"

"There is that," Yanagi nodded. "And also seven years ago, the Sugimoto family ran into financial difficulties since the matriarch passed away. It was all over the local newspaper."

Akemi started.

"And the reason Murakami-senpai is taking over his family's dojo is due to his grandfather's ailing health. His father isn't a karate practitioner like him – so the responsibility falls on him."

As the last of the shock abated, the noirette dropped her gaze abashedly. She rubbed the back of her neck with obvious discomfort of hearing the nitty-gritty detail. "I...didn't know..." Akemi mumbled apologetically, guilt-ridden.

Yanagi rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder until she looked back up.

"His grandfather saw Sugimoto's potential of building a stronger foundation for the Murakami name. As part of the marriage interview's agreement, the Murakamis injected a substantial amount of money to keep the fund flowing and Sugimoto Dojo standing."

"...isn't that bribery?"

"Some may call that. But for the Sugimoto family, it won't bode well if the dojo crumbled during times of economic recession and even without its influence. In a way, it posed a threat to the Murakamis' reputation."

Akemi grasped her chin. "If put in perspective, Murakami-senpai's family did it to lessen the burden and pain on Sugimoto-senpai's father," her scowled deepened, "which somewhat indirectly affects her."

"A tooth for a tooth."

"The Murakamis will undoubtedly benefit from her rise in fame," Akemi theorised, "if her reputation grows seamlessly through leading a club and bringing home victories. I know I can't speak for her – but honestly, I don't like the way things are." Digging deeper into the dirt was starting to put her ill at ease; but there's no turning back. "Murakami-senpai...he's pushing his fiancée into recruiting –" She scrupled to use 'talented' to describe herself, "– new members."

No.

"Somehow, that doesn't sound right," Akemi admitted aloud. "Murakami-senpai might come across as ill-disposed –"

"– which he's quite known for among peers –"

"– he doesn't seem that uncaring towards his fiancée."

What was she talking about? They've only met once.

And once was enough.

"They're hardly, if ever, seen together in school – much less the public. Guesswork will only take us so far without solid evidence. There are too many unanswered questions, doubts and speculations."

Akemi sighed in frustration, shoulders slumping. Figuring this out was really taking a heavy toll on her battered body. Bleary eyes shifted to the clutters on the picnic table. A faint hope rekindled inside her. "The letters?"

"Just as you've suspected, they were sent by two different individuals. Few things we know: Sugimoto-senpai has been interested in recruiting you since the end of August, the letters started appearing after the school festival last month, they were sent anonymously, but the only exception was the lengthy one – which she, herself, stated was written by her –"

"And the rest of the letters Murakami-senpai penned and unceremoniously dumped in my shoe locker," Akemi finished in a disgruntled manner.

"You're still peeved?"

"That goes without saying!" She huffed indignantly. In that fleeting moment, her usual self returned. "Murakami-senpai is sly," she sulked.

"For using underhanded method?"

"For psychologically toying around with my head!"

Whatever was the driving force behind Murakami's motives, one thing was very clear to them. His fiancée's apparent lack of seriousness in the recruiting matter frustrated him.

That led him to 'provide assistance' from the shadows.

That led him to sending those letters.

That almost drove Akemi into the brink of fear.

That would have goaded Akemi to leave the tennis club for good.

"Good self-discipline? No malicious intention?" Scornfully, Akemi harked back Sanada's indirect appraisal on Murakami. She gave an unladylike snort. "This is why I don't trust graphology, Yanagi-san. Such unscientific analysis based on a few strokes of pen –"

"You didn't dispute my deduction," Yanagi interjected evenly.

Sputtering escaped from her throat as her mouth opened and closed several times. Like a fish out of water, desperate for air; in this case, dignity.

"Oh – well, I – err...Humph!" Akemi crossed her arms with an indignant huff, and held her head high. "Regardless, Murakami-senpai committed such prejudicial crime against me just for his own selfishness. Oh! If I get my hands on him, I'll –"

"Akemi-san, you're plotting in the presence of a student council representative."

The manageress stiffened in horror realisation. "Oh my goodness, you're right," she whispered briskly; figuratively slapped in the face by the casually articulated words for the nth time today.

Chuckling, Yanagi shook his head slowly as if to say it wasn't a big deal. He glanced down at his watch, and all humour was knocked out of him that instant. "You're late."

Akemi blinked in bemusement. "Late for what?"

"Decision time."

Akemi checked her watch. "Oh right. It's eight o'clock."

"Shouldn't you be going?"

"Why?"

"Why?"

"I gave my reply to Sugimoto-senpai yesterday."

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!?"

With unfashionable grace, the Troublesome Trio tumbled out from behind the sculpted hedges.

"Wh-what did you say?" Marui gasped between breaths leaving short and raspy. The rest came out from their hiding spots with much more dignity intact, each mirroring the next person's bewildered expression. The redhead took a huge gulp of air and added, "To Sugimoto-senpai, I mean!"

Akemi pinched the bridge of her nose, heaving a sigh of resignation. She turned to the Rikkai captain. "Yukimura-san, did you receive a letter of any kind today?"

"No..."

"Then, it's a no."

The regulars lapsed into silence as they worked out the cryptic message. To formalise and approve the switching process between clubs, the sports department required letters of approval signed and written by captains from both sides, and an official letter of resignation from the person concerned. Letters addressed to the captain or club collected from the teachers' office must go through her.

If Akemi had accepted Sugimoto-senpai's answer yesterday afternoon, surely there should be a smug letter personally sent from said captain by now?

A slight quirk on the corner of her lips, the manageress watched their expressions changed as the realisation slowly sunk in.

Kirihara was the first to break the silence, spluttering incredulously. "B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-but – when...when did you?" The Junior Ace gestured wildly with his hands, beseeching her to enlighten everyone.

"I needed the loo badly," Akemi deadpanned, "but you guys thought it bright to hold me up. Were you all hell bent on ruining my precious bladder?"

"Wait – what!?" Marui exclaimed. "The toilet? That's it!? So you weren't angry at all?"

"You did storm off." Yagyuu pointed out. Everyone in the club saw that particular moment.

"Seriously, don't bring your drama to the courts."

"Niou-kun! Now's not the time."

Akemi threw the Trickster a dirty look. That Machiavellian had been uncharacteristically quiet. In the sense, there was the distinctive absence of wisecracks since the stand-off at the stairwell yesterday. Truthfully, she didn't know where he stood.

But...

Sparing Niou another glare, Akemi pointedly turned back to address Yagyuu. "Naturally – the nearest girl's bathroom to the tennis courts happened to be in the same block as the dojo. I dropped by, informed Sugimoto-senpai of my decision – and went my separate way." She shrugged dismissively. "Problem solved."

"Then, you'll stay?" Sanada blurted.

"I did drag myself out of bed for morning practice right?" Akemi retorted dryly, though with a warm smile gracing her lips.

Understandably, the poor distraught vice-captain was at a loss after the encounter with his former discipline committee president. Wary that anything he did may aggravate the delicate situation, he'd forced himself to stay out of her way. It was obvious from their daily journey to school. Why would he walk on the other side of the street?

Sanada exhaled in relief.

A loud snivelling disrupted the otherwise 'peaceful' atmosphere.

Marui's bottom lips trembled with emotions bubbling up at an alarming rate that Akemi only had a second notice when he pounced. "Akemi-chan!" he bawled, engulfing her in bone-crushing hug.

It was the type of hug that restricted air supply too.

"Let her go, Bunta. You're squashing the poor girl."

"Marui-kun, it isn't sensible to put one of my classmates in the infirmary with several cracked ribs. Think of the hassles you have to go through."

"That's right. You might end up with more than a broken bone too. We can't have you withdraw from the U-17 camp prematurely."

"Err...she's turning a little blue, senpai."

"I say she looks better in that colour, pupina."

"Niou-kun!"

"MARUI! Get your hands off her – or you'll be running laps until the moon rises to its peak!"

XXX

From behind the railing on the rooftop garden, a figure observing the merriment below her smiled. Amusement glinted in her sea green eyes. She stayed there for goodness-know-how-long when she sensed a familiar presence behind her.

"Thought you're not interested in my affairs –" Sugimoto slipped away from the railing and turned around, "– Aki-kun."

An irate scowl formed with routine ease.

"For the last time, stop calling 'Aki-kun'. It is an affront to my pride," Murakami Yasuaki droned. "Tsch! You couldn't have bothered to keep me in the loop?"

Sugimoto giggled at his expense.

Murakami rolled his eyes. Slipping his hands into his trousers' pockets, he walked up to the spot she'd occupied not long ago. Amidst the clamour of students arriving at the school gates in droves, the lively commotion from the nine dots below him penetrated the air loud and clear. He sensed his fellow karateka joined him at his side.

"I'm surprised you let her go without a fight."

The smile faltered. It was very subtle, but Murakami recognised the look at first glance.

Her calm voice betrayed no emotion. "Witnessing how they fought to convince her into staying – I had a slight change of heart. They went as far as barricading my way out from the dojo yesterday, and warned me to stay away from their manageress."

"Did they?"

Sugimoto nodded; a little of the anguish washed over her features. There was no point putting up a front when Murakami knew her past inside out. "Tearing apart a family in cold blood, what does that leave me apart from guilt?"

"...are you truly fine that way?"

Sugimoto wheeled around on the spot, dark brown high ponytail swinging wildly behind her head. Her wide grin was a perfect picture of the confidence and dauntless girl he knew so well. "Of course! Who do you think I am?" she jabbed a finger in his direction.

Before he could say anything, the bell rang.

"Come on, Aki-kun," Sugimoto beamed. "Time to head back to class."

Murakami's expression hardened. Behind those cool grey eyes, there's a certain meaningful sentiment that placated his guarded visage as they traced the spirited girl bounding towards the exit. He followed his fiancée in a much casual pace.

The corners of his mouth twitched with the slightest of movement.

"Family...huh?"

XXX

"That will be the bell."

Yanagi's nonchalant observation was rather redundant. Across the school's sprawling compound, the classic chime of Westminster Quarters resonated over the dissonance of students jostling to their classes.

"Alright, everyone – SCAT!" Sanada's foghorn voice just as easily tore through the atmosphere.

"Party pooper."

"And we're off." Yagyuu dipped his head and swiftly steered the sniggering Niou away before he could do anymore damage.

A toothily grinning Marui – having left the manageress short of breath from the hug attack – propped his elbow on one of the Junior Ace's shoulders. "You hear him, Akaya." The redhead reached up with a hand and tousled the unruly black locks. "Let's go grab our stuff."

"That's unfair!" Kirihara whined. "Why am I singled out?"

"Come on," Jackal sighed resignedly, shoving the two into walking.

Sanada and Yanagi shared a look. Bidding farewell, they left the fountain square and the two stragglers behind.

Silence filled in the space between them as they stared at each other.

Her soft sigh was lost amidst the gushing of water.

"Yukimura-san."

There was a pause.

"Akemi-san." It took a bit more strain than he had liked it, but feeling the lips stretched into a smile that didn't need a mask was a huge respite. "You took me by surprise."

A hand covered her mouth opened in a big O. "Have I really amazed the Child of God?" Akemi wondered aloud. "I'm not dreaming am I?"

"Would you like to find out?" Yukimura chuckled lightly.

Akemi knew where to draw the line, and gave a humourless chuckle of her own. "No thanks. I'd rather pull the wool over my own eyes than risk anything." She lifted her gaze to admire the fluffy clouds rolling leisurely across the blue sky. "Do you remember? You told me not to judge too quickly once."

Yukimura most certainly did.

"How many days have passed since?" Akemi paused, as if to ponder on her question. "It does perplex when I think about it though. Yes there were ups and downs in the job," a wistful smile crossed her features, "but I can count more ups than downs."

Walking up the picnic table, she started to gather the letters into her canvas bag. Those – including Sugimoto's – would find temporary home in the shredder's bin. "Let it be known, Yukimura-san...this isn't a charitable act, or obligation." Grunting, Akemi gently laid the bulging bag to rest on its back. She glanced back to the captain with jaws firmly set. "For a long time, I've never once gave leaving the tennis club a serious thought."

There was a change in her on a subconscious level that was easy to miss. If it's selfish to cling onto such feeling, Akemi honestly couldn't give a tinker's damn.

"The memories good or bad will forever stay." A mischievous smirk formed on her lips. "And I dare say that there are a few I'll certainly never forget, even if my life depended on it." Akemi would have never thought that the Yukimura Seiichi was capable of fretting.

"Which one's that?"

Akemi shook her head. Revealing would spoil everything noteworthy about this new-found intriguing side of him. With composure of unwaveringness, she made her way up to the Rikkai captain.

"I'll look after the club while you're away," the noirette vowed, earnestly. "Have a little faith in me. That's all I ask."

Yukimura took the proffered hand.

Her grip was incredibly strong.

"Likewise, Akemi-san," the Rikkai captain smiled. "Likewise."

Trivia for the previous chapter is already up on my tumblr blog. Chapter 25 to come soon.

Poll results:

Yukimura - 8

Atobe - 9 (added 2 from review)

Kirihara - 1

Niou - 1

Sanada - 1

Others - 0

The result is getting very interesting. Don't worry, there will be a little something for everyone. Btw, poll is still open for voting!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone!

Review? :D