Author's Note:
250 Dark Stars
(And I want to get free
Talk to me
I can feel you falling)
...
"Everyone, if you would listen for a moment," Naohito requested on Tuesday morning. Even with the respect demanded of the class representative, it took a while for the students to settle down—she wasn't an authoritative girl. Instead, she trained her eyes on her feet, shuffling.
Once 2-B was more or less quiet, she went on, "I've decided to resign as class officer. I'm sorry to have let you all down. Please forgive me." She drew a breath and said, as if reciting a passage memorized from the student handbook, "As my last duty, I officially nominate Yukimura Sayoko to take my place."
Everyone looked at Sayoko, who was equally flummoxed, though she kept her expression cool and unconcerned. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Tsujiai (his hair still sparkling with glitter-glue) and his crew smirking, while on the other side of the room, Kirihara was clearly laughing at her situation.
"Does anyone object?" Naohito went on. No one did—Sayoko suspected Tsujiai and co. figured they could torture her when she had to go up in front of the class and do class officer duties. Still, she pleaded mentally for someone, anyone, to nominate someone else. If she did, it would look like she was intimidated.
Save me, she mouthed to Kirihara. She would have looked to An for help as well, but the other girl sat a few seats behind her, and turning completely around would not have been stealthy.
He just put his hands behind his head, looking supremely pleased with life in general, and she felt sick to her stomach.
She'd officially been thrown to the wolves, and she knew who'd done the throwing.
~x~
"Where is he?" was the question that began her interrogation of Sanada and Yanagi during the break. Her brother wasn't in his classroom. At her strident tone, a few people shot her curious looks, but the two-thirds of the Big Three that weren't related to her didn't seem fazed in the least.
Disheveled and out of breath from sprinting up the stairs—probably she should work on her stamina, in case she was ever chased by a bear—she narrowed her eyes at them. Without giving them a chance to respond, she went on, "Did you two know about this?"
They exchanged a glance, which was impressive, given the all-but-closed state of Yanagi's eyes. Sanada opened his mouth, but Sayoko, getting more and more worked up, didn't give him a chance. "Who am I kidding, of course you did. I can't believe he had the nerve to—"
"Who had the nerve to do what?"
She spun on her heel to find her brother behind her, his brows raised fractionally. Through clenched teeth, she said, "Can I speak to you privately please."
He inclined his head by means of complying, and the siblings found a somewhat deserted stretch of hallway. Her brother leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest, and prompted her to speak with a look.
"Why would you do that?" Normally she wasn't a pacer, but her frustration and incredulity found some release in the short, abrupt steps she took back and forth. "Why would you bully my class representative into resigning and leaving me her post? Of all the self-important, over-involved things you could have done...!"
"I didn't bully her into it," he said mildly, though his eyes flashed with annoyance. "I simply suggested it to her. You said you would take the position if it wasn't already filled. The structure, the responsibility... this is what you need, Sayoko."
"Don't tell me what I need! You have no idea what I need."
A thin, cool smile. "And do you know what you need?"
"I need—I need...!" She threw her hands in the air. He made her so goddamned angry. "I need you to stop trying to run my life. Stop treating me like a child."
He unhitched himself from the wall, getting right up in front of her. She stopped pacing. Instead, she trembled, sick with the recognition that arguing with him never worked, only made her feel small and stupid and worthless.
"So stop acting like a child," he hissed, their identical blue eyes mere inches apart. "Grow up. Instead of drifting around feeling superior, take your schoolwork seriously, and give people a reason to give a damn about you. Because if I stop 'trying to run your life'? If I leave you alone?
"That's what you'll be, Sayoko. All alone. And you won't last a minute."
She choked, tears welling up in her eyes. "I... you...!"
He just shook his head, exhaled shortly, and started back toward his classroom. She watched him go, her hands balled up into fists, and finally shouted after him, "Yeah, well, I'm quitting the horticulture club!"
He whirled, having, by that point, completely lost his cool. "Fine!"
"Fine!" Her head down, she turned and fled in the opposite direction, trying to ignore all the stares and comments that the latest episode of the Yukimura family drama had garnered. Near the stairs, someone stepped in her path and took her by the wrists. Anticipating another cruel prank, she tried to jerk away.
But it was Niou. Impassively, he examined her. She'd begun crying in earnest now, the tears streaming hot and salty down her face, which she knew was already beginning to redden and swell. She'd always been an ugly, messy crier.
Unfortunate that she ended up like that so often.
Sayoko just looked at him, biting her lip. He smiled then, not unkindly, but still mocking in the I-told-you-so nature of the expression, and she recalled his words from the day before: You're weak. Knock you down? You cry and wait for someone to pick you up.
She tore free of his grip. I may already be crying, she thought grimly, but I won't have you pick me up. Not this time.
He was the second person she ran away from, in no more than a minute.
~x~
Sayoko entered the classroom ten minutes after the next class had already begun, her face red and raw as if she'd scrubbed at it. Quietly accepting the teacher's sharp comment about the behavior expected of the new class officer, she took her seat, head tilted so that her hair veiled her face.
An, for her part, was trying to complete the English assignment that was due later that day. Their task was to write a story using certain words they'd just learned. Hers was about a fire extinguisher that landed the lead in a Broadway musical, but was sent to prison for tax evasion.
She thought it rather inspired.
Still, it was hard to concentrate with all the noise—construction people were working on the roof. She hoped they were installing a helipad, or perhaps an aquarium.
She was almost done drawing herself with gills when class ended, and the students got up to stretch their legs and talk amongst themselves. An stayed in her seat, putting the finishing touches on—
"Fish-girl, huh?"
She jumped. "Marui-senpai!" He stood behind her, peering over her shoulder with those violet eyes. "What are you...?"
"Yukimura sent me to check on Sayoko-chan, but..." he shrugged, and gestured vaguely to the room at large. She was nowhere to be seen. "So I figured you could be Sayoko-chan 2.0." He thought about it. "Sayoko-chan: The Sequel, perhaps."
"Then you can be the late Marui Bunta."
That startled him into a laugh, and he remarked, "You're a bold one, I'll give you that, but you're lucky I'm such a good-natured upperclassman. Try making those sorts of comments to Niou or Sanada or Yukimura and see what happens."
They both knew she wouldn't dare. Speaking of Yukimura... "Yukimura-senpai is the one that got Naohito to nominate Sayoko as class representative, isn't he?" If there was one thing to be said for Yukimura Seiichi, it was that he had pull.
"Yeah... and I hear she's not very happy about it." He appeared uncharacteristically troubled for a moment, and it occurred to her that he must, on some level, care for Sayoko. Then his expression smoothed, once again the picture of nonchalance. "Keep an eye on her, would you? It'd mean a lot to her brother."
"Why can't Kirihara do it?"
"Good point," he mused. "Keep an eye on him too. Good thing you've got two eyes, yeah?"
She made a point of rolling them, and he laughed and let her get away with it, as she'd known he would.
~x~
As the final bell rang, An hurried to catch up with Sayoko, who had already begun to book it out of the classroom. "Sayoko," she called, feeling uncomfortable with the given-name-basis. "Sayoko, wait up."
Most people, when called by name, would turn around and come to a stop. Sayoko glanced over her shoulder and slowed, but did not break stride. She was just that kind of person, and An decided not to take it personally.
Dodging other students—the hallways after school ended always made her think of that scene from The Lion King, where the herd of wildebeests stampeded in the gorge—she fell into step beside the other girl. "Hey. Are you... how are you?"
"I'm fine," was her immediate, clipped response. "Thanks for asking."
It was in An's nature to demand the honest truth, but she had a feeling that pursuing that course with Sayoko would only earn her a freezing look and a sharp remark, so she quelled the instinct. Still, the other girl was distressed. It wouldn't have been obvious to her a month or so ago, when the youngest Yukimura sibling had just been a remote, picture-perfect figure, but now it was clear as day.
That didn't mean there was anything she could do about it, though.
"So for our project," she began as they turned a corner. "When do you want to work on it?"
Those bright blue eyes expressed bafflement. "What?"
"Our history project," An elucidated. "You know? We're partners? It's due in a few weeks...?"
"Oh," said Sayoko distantly. "Right. Um..." she trailed off, but someone appeared to pick up the conversational slack.
"Yo." Kirihara jogged up to salute An in a way that was both lighthearted and mocking, before turning to Sayoko. He snapped his fingers once in front of her face to get her attention. "Tell your brother I might be late for practice. I left my phone somewhere, gotta look for it."
"That's the second phone in six months, Akaya. Your parents must be thrilled."
An winced. Both Yukimuras had entered the chat. With effortless grace, he approached to stand opposite his sister. The tension was extreme; Sayoko wouldn't even look at her brother.
A pause.
"So yeah I'm gonna go try to find it," Kirihara blurted out, turning to beat a hasty retreat.
"I'll help," Sayoko said instantly, her long hair swinging as she whirled to follow him, effectively, if not subtly, making her escape.
Which left An alone with Yukimura, who raised his eyebrows at her. "... Um," she said. "Well, I gotta... bye." She ran to catch up with her classmates, and once they were out of Yukimura's earshot, she hissed, "So thanks for abandoning me. That was great. Really, that totally made my day."
"Kirihara Akaya: Day-Maker. Nice to meet you," he said breezily. "I already checked the classroom... I think I might have forgotten my phone on the roof."
"They let you up there, even with the construction going on?" At his smug smile, An shook her head. "Ah. Not so much 'let you' as 'were unable to dissuade and/or prevent you.'"
"In my book, the two phrases are synonymous," he grinned, opening the door to the staircase that led to the rooftop. They and they went up single-file—Kirihara, Sayoko, An.
"You've got a book?" Sayoko repeated skeptically as they climbed. "What's it called, 'How to Be a Jerk: a Step-by-Step Guide'?"
"Let me know if you want a copy," he replied, unfazed. "You'll have to pay full-price, though. Tachibana can have," he thought about it, "a two percent acquaintances-and-minor-nemeses discount."
"I'm honored," An said dryly, trying not to smile. "If I were to become your archnemesis, would the price go up or down?"
"Don't flatter yourself," he scoffed, "there's a line a mile long of guys clamoring to be my archnemesis. You'd never make the cut." But he glanced at her over his shoulder, his expression animated, engaged, and for a moment the extraordinary focus that won him so many tennis matches was directed solely toward An.
She swallowed. Said hastily, "So Sayoko, really—when are we going to work on our project? I need to know so I can go to practice..."
They stepped out onto the roof. The construction equipment was there, but the workers must have been on break. Kirihara started looking for his phone, and Sayoko bit absently at a fingernail. "Well... I guess we can work on it this weekend or something. Maybe Friday night."
An raised her eyebrows. "You haven't got, like, plans or something?"
Sayoko raised hers. "Have you?"
"... No," An admitted ruefully. Probably watching anime in her pajamas did not count. She was about to head back down when it occurred to her to ask, "Hey, what are they building up here, anyway?" In some places, the fence that bordered the roof was stripped away.
"I think a new overhang..." Kirihara mumbled, reaching up and mussing his own hair in thought. "Where could I have left my stupid phone...?"
An overhang? That was it? No aquarium? "But the dolphins," she protested, setting her stuff down and walking out to get a better view.
"What are you talking about?" Kirihara and Sayoko asked in unison, whereupon they scowled at each other.
She waved the question away, wandering around the rooftop. It would have been a great spot for an aquarium... they could have put the sharks over there, and the dolphins there, and the porpoises—
She faltered, having, in her self-absorbed wandering, gotten too close to one of the areas where the protective fencing had been stripped away. Cold sweat ran down her neck as her heart hammered in her chest, and she hurriedly backed away—
Only to move right into another unprotected section.
Stepping backwards, her heels came down on nothing but air. She fell, twisting to grab on to the fence where it started again. There was a narrow ledge she could touch her toes to, but—
"You stupid idiot!" In an instant, Kirihara was there, kneeling and thrusting a hand out to her. "Take my hand, come on, come on, take my hand."
"No!" she cried, holding on for dear life, her eyes squeezed shut with absolute terror. "I'm not letting go!" Oh God she was hanging off the roof of a three-story building she was going to fall would a fall from this height kill her what would she land on she couldn't see oh God she was so scared so scared so goddamned scared—
"I'll pull you up," he hissed, his voice stricken. "Seriously, Tachibana, this isn't funny. Come on. Just take my hand!"
"No," she whimpered, her grip growing weaker. She could support some of her weight on the ledge beneath her, but not all. "I won't let go. I can't let go...!" Tears coursed down her cheeks.
"Goddamn you," he snarled, and grabbed her forearms, only to release her when she let out an ear-piercing shriek.
"Don't touch me!"
"Then take my goddamned hand, you stupid—"
"An," said a voice, urgent and unassailable. She heard someone run up and get down on their knees next to Kirihara. "Tachibana An, open your eyes, look at me, come on, do it."
She opened her eyes to find Yukimura Seiichi staring at her intently, his eyes like bolts of lightning. He held out a hand to her. "Take my hand, and I'll pull you up."
"No!"
"Take my hand," he ordered, those eyes blazing blazing blazing blue. "I don't give a damn whether you want to or not, just do it because I told you to."
Call it hypnotized, spellbound, transfixed, whatever—she couldn't block out those angel-blue eyes. Couldn't disregard that voice, so expectant and certain and doubtless, so completely and totally what she needed to hear.
She took his hand.
Yukimura pulled her up and to him, and she clung to him, let him back her up from the ledge, buried her face in his blazer and cried and cried and cried, sick with fear and horror and she could have fallen she could have died oh God oh God she wanted her brother oh God where was her big brother—
"Shh," he murmured, his arms wrapped around her loosely. "It's all right. You're all right."
She let him keep telling her that, and after a while she let herself believe him.
~x~
"Tachibana, are you okay?" Shimizu had her hands on her hips. It was near the end of practice that day, and An was hitting against a ball-machine.
An shrugged, and slugged another forehand down the line. It felt good to work off her remaining anxiety. It seemed as if her intestines were tied in a knot—or perhaps a balloon-animal. Maybe a dolphin, wouldn't that just be fucking—
"Ta-chi-ba-na," Shimizu sang. "Listen when I'm talking to you, or I will turn this car around, missy. Don't think I won't." She turned the ball-machine off. "You can play with your toy later. Now seriously, what's going on in that head of yours?"
"Balloon-animals," An answered honestly, approaching to lean her racquet against the net. She sat down right where she was, the court rough and familiar against her skin.
Shimizu, to her credit, took that in stride. "Fair enough. Balloon-animals shouldn't be troubling you this much, though." She sat down on the other side of the net, and they regarded each other through the meshing. "I know you've been having a hard time with... things," she began gruffly, and it occurred to An that, however outgoing the girl with the green-gray eyes might have been, she was deeply uncomfortable with heart-to-hearts.
"I'm fine," she said automatically, and it made her think of only a few hours previous, when she'd asked Sayoko how she was. The moment An had fallen off the edge of the roof, Sayoko had raced to get her brother who was, thank God, still in the building.
Needless to say, the staircase leading up to the roof was now kept locked at all times.
"Do you want me to talk to Yukimura, or Sanada?" Shimizu took her hair out of her ponytail, shook it out, and began braiding it in a zillion little braids. "They're already working on beating down the soccer team, but they could, I don't know. Get you a bodyguard, or a clown."
At An's raised eyebrows, Shimizu explained, "To make you balloon-animals. Also, a lot of people are afraid of clowns. Bet you at least half the soccer team is."
"I'm really fine," An smiled. Shimizu didn't know about her near-death experience, and she wasn't about to tell her. The less people who knew, the slightly less humiliating it was. Slightly.
"All right," Shimizu shrugged, her eyes on what she was doing with her hair. "I guess I'm just saying it's Yukimura and company's fault that you're public enemy number one—actually, public enemy number two. Yukimura Sayoko's probably number one.
"So he should help you out. And he would, too. He's not a bad guy, Yukimura," she added grudgingly. "At least, not when you're on the same side of the net as him, anyway."
Thinking about Yukimura made An feel... funny. "Have you and Fuyumi-buchou figured out the lineup for Sunday?"
Shimizu grinned. "It's against our policy to leak that kind of information this early, but if it'll give you the motivation to focus... you'll be playing Singles 3. So you better get your act together, yeah?"
"I will," An promised, all but beaming. Finally, she would get to play some real tennis.
Shimizu stood and brushed herself off. She'd only braided half her hair, so the end-result looked ridiculous, which, knowing her, was probably what she'd been going for. "Anyway, practice is over." She started to walk toward the door in the fence surrounding the court.
Over her shoulder she called, "Don't tell anyone I told you what position you're playing, got it? Then everyone would want to know, and I'd have to tell them no, and then they would mutiny, and leave me stranded on a deserted island. I don't do well when coconuts are involved," she added darkly.
An took her word for it.
~x~
Hiyono didn't have practice that day, so An began the walk home by herself. Somehow she wasn't surprised when Kirihara stopped her by the school gate.
He was leaning against the wall that circled the school, and as she approached he turned to face her, his hands in his pockets. His bag was slung over one shoulder and his hair fell in his eyes, and he just looked at her, unsmiling.
"Nice weather," she said, unable to meet his eyes.
"Why wouldn't you take my hand?" he demanded.
She bit the inside of her cheek. "Look, I don't—"
"Seriously, Tachibana, what is your problem with me?" He sounded so angry she half-expected his eyes to turn red, but they remained, as ever, relentlessly, unfathomably green.
She stared at him. "What's my problem with you? How can you even ask that! I mean, God, you are just so...!" She trailed off, unable to describe him.
"So what?"
She found the words, advancing on him as she ranted. The stress of the day found an outlet through her accusations. "So rude, and mean! You're a jerk that treats people like crap. You don't care about anyone but yourself, so you do whatever the hell you want whenever you want, everybody else be damned!"
They were two feet from each other now, and Kirihara smirked down at her. "Your point being?"
She slapped him across the face.
-And he slapped her right back.
It was a light smack, with much less force than she'd used, but—he'd hit her. She gaped at him, one hand rising to cup her cheek. "If you can hit me, I can hit you," he explained casually. "You don't hit me, I won't hit you. Cool? Cool. So anyway," he went on, as if the exchange of blows had never even occurred, "who are you?
"Who do you think you are, to run around accusing me of all this crap? Newsflash, kiddo: you don't even know me. If you want to insult people, go look in the mirror, and accuse the girl you see of being self-righteous and judgmental. Because guess what?
"It'll be dead-accurate."
He looked down at her, and she glared up at him, and... he seemed to see what he wanted to see. His face lit up like a match, his smile flashing and bright and... happy.
He walked away then, just up and left, and she just... stood there.
She didn't know what else to do.
SO SHE ATE A PANCAKE.
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis, or The Goo Goo Dolls' "Here is Gone" (lyrics at the top).