Author's Note:
250 Dark Stars
(From the shallows in love
To the depths of your scars
You know you want to change)
...
The next morning, An donned her tennis uniform: a straight white skort with black trim, and then a jersey and jacket virtually the same as those worn by the boys. She stared at herself in the mirror, turned this way and that. The uniform made her look like she meant business. It squared her shoulders, highlighted the firmness in her gaze. It made her look like a real athlete.
How strange, that she would wear Rikkai yellow.
"I'm going," she announced to her aunt, who sat at the kitchen table with her laptop, and looked up with a distantly surprised expression as she took in her niece's attire.
"You have a match today?"
I told you a week ago, and reminded you again last night. "Just the district preliminaries."
"Do your best." With that, her aunt returned to her work, and An slipped out the door, fumbling her transit-card out of her wallet. It wasn't like she'd moved in with her aunt expecting maternal warmth, but...
She did get lonely, sometimes. Perhaps she should invest in a goldfish.
Many of her teammates were already at the tournament grounds when she got there. It was about eight o'clock in the morning; because more people cared about the boys' matches, the girls' were always held earlier. The sky was gray, the weather somewhat cool, but Shimizu looked up from her phone and announced that rain was not in the forecast.
"So, let's see who's here," she went on. Her jacket clashed horrendously with her dyed-blond hair, which seemed to please her a great deal. "We're only missing..." she looked around, and smirked, "Fuyumi. Our unflappable captain is not a morning person."
Now that An thought about it, she couldn't recall ever seeing Fuyumi at morning weight-room sessions. At just that moment, though, Fuyumi trudged over, yawned a "Hello," and poured a neon-colored energy drink down her throat. It was the least composed An had ever seen her.
Shimizu toyed with the cross hanging from a chain around her neck. "It doesn't matter today because we have a bye the first round, and some of you will remember this from last year, but... Doubles 2 players should always try to make their match last as long as possible, so that Fuyumi has a chance to wake up in time for Doubles 1."
"'M awake," Fuyumi mumbled.
"Sure you are, honey. Remember, gang, we are Rikkai. That means no giggling, smiling, joking, being nice to opponents, etc. We are tough and intimidating, damn it—I said intimidating, Tachibana, not bored and sleepy." An adjusted her expression appropriately, and Shimizu continued, "Anyway... off to register!"
And with that, she bounded off toward the registration desk, whistling the theme from Mission Impossible.
"Where does she get all that energy?" Fujimaru Imari, the only other second-year regular, murmured incredulously.
"She sleeps in class every day," smiled Takamiya Miaka, a classmate to both Shimizu and Fuyumi. She had auburn hair and a sweet heart-shaped face that belied her prowess on the court. She was Fuyumi's doubles partner, and led her away, saying, "Come on, let's go find you some caffeine."
They were to meet at Court A in an hour. Even teams that had a bye were required to show up at the same time as everyone else so that they could register.
Kiko was off hanging out with the sub-regulars, so was left with remaining regulars: Katsuragi, Watanabe, Fujimaru, and Nakajima. She wasn't yet very close with any of them, and felt suddenly shy. She scrambled for something to say. "Are you Sanada-senpai's girlfriend?" she asked abruptly of Watanabe.
Watanabe's slender black brows drew together in irritation as beside her, Katsuragi broke into delighted snickers. "No."
"Oh," said An, wondering what to follow that up with. "Well, uh, neither am I."
"I'll be sure to let him know when I see him later," Watanable said coolly as she walked away, her shoulders back and her head high.
"Please don't!" An called after her, cursing inwardly. Why had she just talked about the weather instead, or wombats?
"Good going, partner," Katsuragi murmured, her light green eyes dancing wickedly. "If Sanada hops the fence in the middle of our match to challenge you to a duel so he can restore his honor, please know that you'll get no help from me."
Sanada did not, in fact, interrupt their match later that morning, but he may as well have. The Katsuragi/Tachibana pair was not meant to be. They were both singles players, kept getting in each other's way—though that did not prevent them from taking the first set at a convincing 6 - 1.
They then reported to Fuyumi, who sat on the bench and seemed, by that point, reasonably alert. "When either of you is at the net, come in closer to the center. Put pressure on them."
Respectfully, Katsuragi voiced what An was thinking. "But then they can pass us down the line."
Fuyumi rubbed at one eye. "That's a low-percentage shot. You don't have to worry about it, with these girls. If they pass you once or twice, it's fine, because they won't be able to do it consistently. What will be consistent is you guys controlling the points by crowding the net."
They took their captain's advice, and An was extremely annoyed when she got passed, but-the tactic worked, and they wrapped up the second set at 6 - 0.
"That was some crappy doubles-play, but way to win, at least." Shimizu grinned at them, before hopping over the divide to take the coach's bench as Fuyumi and Takamiya got on the court. A number of people watched from the sidelines, more than there were for any of the other girls' matches. Even in the district preliminaries, Rikkai drew spectators.
Fuyumi/Takamiya pair won 6 - 0, 6 - 0 in thirty-five minutes.
As the two girls walked off the court without having even broken a sweat, An and Katsuragi traded a glance, each shamefaced.
Rikkai won Singles 3 easily as well, meaning they would advance—not that there had been any doubt in anyone's mind. Still, because it was their first match, they played all five, and finished up a little before noon.
After everyone had shaken hands at the net, Fuyumi dismissed them, and as An was packing up her stuff, she asked Kiko, "Want to go to the arcade with me?"
"You don't want to stay and watch the boys play?"
An shrugged. "They get a bye in the first round, and then they'll probably slaughter whoever's in the second round... it doesn't sound particularly exciting." She thought about it. "Unless they do it on pogo sticks. Everything's more exciting on pogo sticks."
"How did you know we were going to bust out our secret weapons today?" came a voice from behind them, and they turned to find Kirihara, a smirk on his face and a tennis bag slung over his shoulder. "We've been training on the damn things for weeks."
Kiko glanced back and forth between the two, and An remained silent, considering the boy before her. She wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't want to encourage him by bantering, but it was hard not to. She recalled the day before—his flash-of-lightning grin, the colorful plastic squirt-guns, her own laughter.
What if it made him think they were friends, or something?
She thought about the boy that had hurt her brother, the boy she'd glimpsed in the arcade—vicious and arrogant. She searched for him in the boy that stood watching her.
~x~
Akaya squinted at An. She was looking at him weird, her face scrunched up in thought. She wasn't any fun when she was all quiet and contemplative, so he decided to push her buttons. "Stop mentally undressing me."
At that, her expression turned incredulous, though he was pleased to note the slight flush coloring her cheeks. "You are unbelievable."
He just grinned at her. "So did you lose, or what? Can't have losers running around wearing Rikkai jerseys—it gives us a bad name."
"Believe me, your bad name is all your own doing," she scoffed, blowing light brown hair out of her eyes.
"I don't have a bad name, for your information," he informed her, though he knew he did. "When people hear my name, they say, 'Oh, you mean that really talented, good-looking guy. What a legend.'"
She made a face at him. "Actually, they go ,'Oh, you mean that kid. Yeah, I hear he's so violent because he's compensating for something.'"
Jackal, who had walked over, spoke up before Akaya could retort. "Akaya, come on. We're registering." He looked curiously at An and her friend, and the former smiled and waved at him.
"All right," Akaya shrugged, turning to join Jackal. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that An was watching him again, her gaze probing, seeking.
And he felt it, the same impulse he'd had at the arcade—to hurt her. She was so self-assured, so outspoken, and he didn't understand why. If he broke her, took her apart piece by piece, maybe, when he reassembled her, she would make sense.
So he smirked at her, called out, "When you come to watch my match, make sure to stand back, so you don't get hurt." His smirk grew more pronounced. "I'd hate for you to wind up like that brother of yours."
~x~
Sayoko sighed. The first-round matches were taking so long. Why couldn't they just do rock-paper-scissors to decide the winner? No matter who went on to the second round, they'd lose to Rikkai anyway.
The sun had come out, and the team was hanging out at some tables shaded by striped umbrellas. Sayoko wore a blue romper with gold embroidery, and lifted the mass of her hair off her neck so that a cool breeze could touch it. Yanagi was listening to music, Yagyuu was on his phone, and Sanada was reading a book. The rest of the boys were playing BS.
She'd considered bringing Twister to play, but had decided it would lack dignity. Also, that her brother's teammates would cheat.
"Three fives," Niou said, tossing the cards onto the pile and lofting his brows at the rest of them, daring them to contradict him.
"Aw, what the hell," Marui shrugged. "BS."
Niou smirked. "Pick 'em up, redheaded stepchild."
Marui made a face and slid the whole pile into his hand. "I asked for that."
"Yeah you did," Kirihara snorted, his mouth full of potato chips.
"Niou is the king of bullshit," Jackal agreed.
Sayoko's brother only tapped his fingers on the table. She knew he was impatient for the match to begin. "Hey," she cut in, "who wants to go get me a drink?"
Silence.
"You guys are the worst." She got up to buy one herself.
"Wait," said Marui suddenly, craning his head to see the concessions stand. "Actually, I'll come." He stood, tossing his cards back on the table. "I'm out, guys."
"Quitter," Kirihara accused.
"He sucked anyway." Niou flipped idly through his hand of cards.
Upon catching up with Sayoko, Marui wrapped his arm around her waist. Flatly she said, "You have three seconds before I scream for my brother."
"Don't don't don't," he said quickly. "See the girl in line? Not the one with the green streaks in her hair, the other one." Ordering at the concessions stand were two girls. The one Marui referred to wasn't striking, but she did have nice eyes, sweet and dark.
"We're making her jealous," Sayoko observed. "Classy." Still, when the girl noticed her and Marui approaching, she played her part by giggling flirtatiously.
"Do you have a better idea?"
"Take her to Azerbaijan," she suggested boredly. "That would impress her."
They were only ten feet from the girls now, and Marui muttered, "Okay, laugh like I just said something uproariously funny. You know, one of my usual witty comments."
Obediently, she laughed, and the girl Marui was trying to impress shot her a sour look. They got in line, and Marui, pretending to have just noticed the girls, struck up a conversation that didn't hold Sayoko's interest at all. Once the girls got their orders and left, she declared, "For that, you are paying for my drink."
"Yeah, yeah. I'd have had Tsubame do it," he said, naming his best friend, Shimizu Tsubame, vice-captain of the girls' team, "but she's not quite pretty enough to pull it off. And if you ever tell her I said that, I'll deny it," he added seriously.
Sayoko rolled her eyes. "And here I'd been all ready to tell her about it at our next knitting circle meet-up."
"For real though, thanks," Marui said. "We definitely made her jealous." He sounded quite pleased with himself.
"Spectacular. Make sure my drink comes with a bendy-straw."
"Hey, who do you like, anyway?" he wanted to know, sticking a straw in her cup and handing it to her. Instead of immediately returning to the rest of the team, they lingered by the concessions stand.
"You. I am madly in love with you, Marui-senpai." Like hell would she discuss this sort of thing with him. It was bad enough he knew about Tsujiai, though at least he had the grace not to bring it up. Though there was a definite unkindness in Marui, a sharp slicing thing lurking beneath all the color and cheer, there was great kindness in him, too.
"Well, naturally." He spared her a mildly gratified look, and said, "But you know, I always figured you and Akaya would get together." At her incredulous expression, he explained, "Just, you know, because you guys are in the same class and all." She continued to stare at him, and he said defensively, "Sorry I didn't put too much thought into your romantic life, okay? Jeez."
Sayoko just shook her head. She'd never gotten along well with Kirihara, and at times had deeply resented him for getting so much of her brother's attention. In truth, she envied him for being able to connect with her brother on such a deep level.
Often she felt she should have kept playing tennis, if only to maintain that link with her brother. If they could debate the pros and cons of a slice-backhand, they could pretend that their relationship was healthy. That they weren't drifting further and further apart.
In her mind, she was reaching reaching reaching, and her brother, eternally, pulled farther and farther away.
"And anyway," Marui continued, oblivious to her sudden distress, "isn't he unusually interested in that Tachibana girl?"
"Is he?" Sayoko shrugged.
"Shouldn't you know? You are in their class, after all." He grinned, pulling on a lock of her hair. "Although I suppose I should take into account how self-absorbed you are." And then: "Hey, she just left," he realized, casting about for the girl he'd been trying to impress. "I was sure she'd stay to watch me play."
"Perhaps someone else offered her a trip to Azerbaijan," Sayoko observed, holding her drink in both hands, its straw in her mouth.
"This is your fault," he accused. "You're too pretty. She probably felt intimidated. I want my money back!"
Sayoko only regarded him over the lid of her drink as she took a long, loud slurp.
~x~
On Monday morning, their teacher told them, "You'll be beginning projects to be worked on outside of class. Naohito, if you'd come up to the board?" Their class officer rose obediently. "When I call a student's name, write down who they report their partner to be."
The fifth name called was Sayoko's, and she breezily declared An to be her partner. Hiyono glanced at her, but An shrugged. She could have been worse off, though making Sayoko pull her own weight might take a little doing.
During lunch that day, An was wandering through the halls when a third-year called to her. "Hey, help me with this?" He was carrying a stack of physics books. Like a good little underclassman, she took half of them, following him to a supply closet. He stopped to adjust his grip on the texts, so she opened the door, stepping forward to reach for the light-switch.
She probably should have seen it coming.
Fruit punch rained down on her, getting on the tiles as well, and she slipped, crashing to the floor and banging the back of her head against the doorframe. A hand grabbed her by the hair, yanking her face up close so the upperclassman could whisper in her ear, "You better pick your friends more carefully, little girl."
And then he walked away.
Her head throbbing, An tried in vain to wipe the sticky liquid out of her eyes. Her blazer and skirt might be saved, but her white blouse was ruined. She just sat there for a few moments, blinking back tears of rage and pain.
I will not cry over this, she swore to herself. Goddamn it all, these stupid jerks aren't worth my tears. And then: I hate this place. I don't belong here. This wouldn't be happening to me, anywhere else. Why the hell would I—
She heard a soft intake of breath, and looked up. The supply closet was in a fairly secluded hallway, but a girl stood some ten feet away, gaping at her. She was small and round-faced, no doubt a first-year.
She sat up a little straighter, took a moment to compose herself, then said as nonchalantly as she could, "Hi there. Crazy weather today, huh? What with the red rain, and all." She dipped her fingers in the puddle of fruit punch.
"Um..." the girl stammered. "Are you...?"
"I'm fine," said An, smiling so hard her teeth hurt. "Absolutely spiffy." She inspected a soaked strand of hair. "Red's a good color for me, don't you think? Purple would have been better, though. I wish they'd had the common decency to ask whether I wanted to be drenched in grape juice instead."
The girl cast her an unsure look, then turned and fled. An decided not to take it too personally. Just when the pain in her head had subsided just enough for her to consider standing up without puking, none other than Kirihara strolled over.
She slumped right back down in the fruit punch puddle.
"So I'm coming down from the roof, right," he began, walking up to kneel by her side. He didn't touch her, just inspected her with those green eyes of his. They glowed like searchlights. "And this tiny first-year comes up and starts stammering about a girl in a supply closet, drenched in fruit punch and blabbering like a loon."
He smiled slightly. "How'd I know it would be you?" When she just scowled, he went on, "Well, aren't you going to break down? Tell the principal? Run home and cry to your mom?"
"I'm going," she told him, very calmly, "to go clean myself up."
Kirihara tilted his head, and he got that look again, the one that expressed how profoundly baffled by her he was, that communicated his deep frustration at the disparity between how she acted and how he expected her to act. He looked like he would cut her just to see if she'd bleed, or crush her windpipe to determine exactly how much air she needed to breathe.
But then his features settled, and his shoulders relaxed, and his eyes grew just a bit softer. "Okay," he said, and for some reason it sounded like a secret, or maybe even a promise. "Okay." He held out a hand to her, and more out of habit than anything, she disregarded it, getting to her feet by herself.
He just shook his head and walked her to the nearest girls' bathroom. Wordlessly she went inside, kicking off her squelchy shoes and peeling off her sticky socks, before shrugging out of her blazer and tossing aside her tie. Her blouse went directly into the trash. Standing there in her skirt and a bra, she'd almost finished rinsing off her face and arms when Sayoko entered, setting a neatly folded uniform on the counter.
Kirihara must have gone for her.
At An's raised eyebrows, Sayoko lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug. "Bullied some girl into lending me her spare."
An turned off the faucet. "I don't need your help."
Sayoko got more paper towels, wet them, and went about cleaning the shorter girl's hair. "I know."
An mulled this over for a long time, before: "Okay," she said, finding the word came out in the same soft tone Kirihara had used. "All right."
Once she'd gotten as clean as she was going to get, she started changing into the new uniform while Sayoko went to fetch a hairbrush from her locker. An finished before she got back, and, her soiled uniform in her hands, exited the bathroom, figuring she could brush her hair back in the classroom.
She walked with her head down, and bumped into one of three upperclassman girls. "Excuse me, senpai," she mumbled. "I'm sorry."
"Are you?" inquired the older girl, sharing a look with her friends. They snickered quietly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" An demanded. Respect for one's seniors be damned, she was not in the mood for this.
"Just that you're that one transfer student, right?" She smirked. "We've all heard about you... you're infamous, you know that? Pretentious, disrespectful... and butting into other people's business all too frequently." Her smile was vicious. "No offense."
An stared at her. At her old schools, if there were girls that didn't like her, they were too intimidated to say anything. Most of the confrontations she'd had had been with boys. How should she respond? God, she just couldn't deal with this right now.
But if there was one person put on Earth for the sole purpose of being catty, it was Yukimura Sayoko. Hairbrush in hand, she sauntered up to assess the three girls with a smile so cold it burned, like holding an icicle in your bare hands.
The third-year girls exchanged a glance. Picking on the upstart transfer girl was one thing. Getting into a fight with Yukimura Seiichi's sister was another.
Coolly Sayoko asked, "And you three are...?"
"I'll tell you who we're not," said the boldest, to the apparent dismay of her friends. "We're not the ones who had sex in a computer lab."
"Ah, so you know who I am," Sayoko returned, malice-sweet. "My reputation precedes me. Have any of you got a reputation I might know you by? No? You're all entirely, painfully unremarkable? We could change that, if you'd like. You could be the girls who got expelled today."
"There's no way you could pull that off," blustered the boldest—the most foolhardy, really.
Sayoko's smile was still scathingly friendly. "Isn't there? Didn't you ever wonder why Kondo Haia stopped coming to school two years ago? She was a grade ahead of me, too. She was a nuisance to me, too." She shrugged. "If you'd like, you can go visit the public school down the block and ask her about it."
At that, even the boldest blanched.
"Hate to break up the party," drawled a familiar voice, and Niou ambled up to use Sayoko's head as an armrest. "But your brother's looking for you. Should I tell him you're making new friends?" Not once did those narrow pale eyes turn toward the girls in his own year, but they got the message, and slunk away.
"Niou-senpai," said Sayoko sulkily, and then— "Wait." An, fed up with the lot of them, had begun to walk away. Sayoko tossed her the hairbrush.
"Thanks," sighed An. For better or worse, they were allies. But why did all the people that seemed to want to help her only make her life more difficult?
This never would have happened if she'd gone to clown college instead.
~x~
"Was that true?" asked Niou idly as An walked away. "About that Kondo girl."
"No. I lied," said Sayoko without a scrap of remorse. "What's the difference between her and me?"
"Between you and an imaginary girl? Probably not a lot, to be honest."
"Between Tachibana An and me." Niou just laughed a little and stepped away, letting his arm fall to his side. With a tilt of his chin, he indicated that they should leave. "I'm serious," she persisted. "Why..."
Why is that girl, that one, damned girl, everything I should be? Everything I'm supposed to be?
"Sweetie," Niou began patronizingly—only to meet her eyes, and sigh. He bent down until they were face to face. "She's strong, and you're weak," he said simply.
She stared at him. "That's not...! I..."
"See." His tone was gentle, amused. "I tell you the truth, something that, deep down, you already know, and you still get hurt. You put on a good show, Sayoko, but when push comes to shove..." He shrugged. "Knock that girl down? She'll get back up."
He shoved her ever so lightly. "Knock you down?
"You cry and wait for someone to pick you up."
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis, nor do I own Falling Up's "Fearless" (lyrics at the top).