Bildungsroman

Chapter 30

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, with no copyright infringement intended. I don't own PoT, which belongs to Takeshi Konomi.

Ikeda Kotone was not a girl prone to nerves. Rikkai captains didn't have nerves. She glanced sideways at Ayano. "Nervous?" She tried for her usual purr, but it sounded more like a cheese grater.

Ayano tugged on her wristbands. Left, then right. The hands were calloused, older, but the tic was the same. "A little." She admitted, smiling faintly. It lit up the darkened corridor where they waited. "You ready?"

Their voices echoed around them; the two of them hadn't been alone in years, and the sheer weight of solitude pressed down on Kotone's neck and shoulders. "Always." She replied, and if it was a little hushed, a little low and rough, she couldn't, wouldn't fault herself. She felt scraped open, bare down to her bones, and the match hadn't even begun.

There was just enough light to see the darkening of Ayano's cheek. Ikeda reached out, helpless and hopeless, to trace that rising colour. Ayano inhaled sharply. "Kotone, I–"

The door burst open, and light and noise flooded the corridor like a torrent.

"Doubles two! Representing Japan– Nomura Ayano and Ikeda Kotone!"

The applause was a barrage; it pushed at them from all sides, almost oppressive. The blood was hot in Kotone's chest, and she wondered if her grin was red too. Beside her, Ayano was a model of a schoolgirl basking in adulation, but her smile was sharp and her eyes had a glint on them that took Kotone back to the half-empty stadiums of their childhood.

"And representing the USA, Riley Davis and Natalya Ivanova!"

Their opponents were tall, but that was all they had in common. Ivanova was blonde and angular, with hair scraped back so tight that it made Kotone wince. Davis was black and had wide-set, sparkling eyes. She balanced her racquet on the tip of one finger, grinning at her partner.

Kotone and Ayano winced in unison as a few boos sounded. They weren't stupid, and judging by the clench of Davis' jaw, neither was she. Shame crusted up Kotone's spine even as the referee called for quiet.

She forced herself to grin as her hand met Davis' across the net. Let's have a good match, she wanted to say, but all that came out was: "Good match." Three sets of eyebrows rose. Davis blinked. "Ah. Sure. Yeah."

"Smooth or rough?" Ayano cut in, shaking hands with Davis as well. Kotone, cheeks burning even as she clasped Ivanova's hand, didn't hear the call, but it didn't matter. Ayano spun, and it landed upside down. That had been the call, apparently, and Ayano chose to serve. "Good call." Kotone muttered.

Ayano shot her a look that was pure amusement. Heat filled her cheeks again. "Shut up."

"An interesting choice of pair." Atobe remarked. "Most people would have put Shijimi in doubles, given her experience with the format." The girl in question raised an eyebrow.

Yukimura nodded. "Shijimi-san has an impressive record, no doubt." He replied, casting one of his disarming smiles at her. "But knowing your partner counts for much more in doubles, I think."

"Ikeda-san and Nomura-buchou do know each other's game really well." Mikabi mused. "I mean, after that match…" She shook her head, sagging against the wall.

"Atobe-san, didn't you and Sanada-kun play doubles back in junior high?" Sakura gave him a pointed smile. "I mean, if you want to talk about interesting combinations…"

Atobe tossed his hair out of his face. "That is true, and Ore-sama should have remembered that–"

"You mean you forgot." Echizen drawled.

Sanada groaned minutely as Atobe swelled with indignation. "Ore-sama does not forget, for his memory is prodigious, you unmannerly hell-born brat–"

Echizen's cat-like eyes danced maliciously. "Monkey King forgot. Ne, Oshitari-san, isn't he getting too old to captain?"

"– too old, he says, old, as though Ore-sama has collapsed into a graceless dotage– Oshitari, you find amusement in this pedestrian humour? Ore-sama is disappointed–"

"You might have a point, Echizen– look at his greys! I should speak to his parents once this is over."

"It's platinum blonde!"

"More like platinum bad hair day." An muttered. She had never forgiven Atobe for trying to bully a date out of her.

"Oshitari's one to talk." Mikabi snorted. "Who told him blue was a decent colour for hair, again?"

Yukimura raised an eyebrow. "Something you'd like to say, Takada-san?" Beside him, Sanada was staring fixedly at the screen, determinedly ignoring both Atobe's rising hysteria as well as Kirihara's wild cackling.

Faced with the full brunt of Yukimura's brand of dangerous sweetness, Mikabi floundered. "Well– I mean– it does suit you–"

"So does Oshitari-san's, actually." Sakura interjected, in a transparent attempt to redirect the conversation. "Very nice." Oshitari's affronted expression melted into something that could only be described as sly. "Why thank you, Sakura-chan– may I call you Sakura? What a lovely name you have."

Sanada's head snapped around. He narrowed his eyes. An snorted.

Sakura exchanged a wry grin with Mikabi. "Thanks, Oshitari, my mother thought so too."

Mikabi and Fuji snickered.

"–to even imply that Ore-sama's memory is failing– I'll show you memory loss, you–"

Shijimi coughed into her fist. "Ikeda and Nomura just took their third game, if anyone's still interested."

They may be up 3-1, but damn if their opponents weren't putting up a fight. Ikeda towelled her face and neck vigorously, then tossed the bag of bananas at Ayano's head. "They're getting better at reading us." She glared across at the US team's bench. Her partner nodded. "So are we, though. Good drop on the last point."

"Skin of my teeth." Ikeda grumbled. That had been pure luck, finding a blind spot in Ivanova's net play. Hopefully Junko was taking notes. "It's your serve again. Make it count."

"Of course."

There was something truly special about Ayano's serve– the arch of her spine made Ikeda's fingers itch.

The ball sizzled to the open court to Ivanova's right. The blonde girl got it, but her teeth came together as she struggled to counter the spin. Her return made it to the mid-court, where Ayano could easily reach it. Instead of upping the pace, however, she patted it upwards. It bounced behind Davis, where Ivanova had to run to catch it.

It was a long rally– 20 shots– that mostly consisted of the Japanese team pulling back the pace and power, while Ivanova banged it harder and harder. Eventually–

"Out! 15-love!" Ayano nodded, satisfied. They bumped fists. "That strategy won't work again immediately." Ikeda warned.

Ayano shrugged. "Good thing we've got others."

It was. Davis decided to take the game to them herself, and had positioned herself a little further back. Ikeda's eyes narrowed as she quickly catalogued the new blind spots that had opened up. They'd shift, of course, with every move she made, but it was good to keep an eye on them anyway.

The second rally lasted even longer: 26 shots. "30-love!" Davis and Ivanova had a brief conference before resuming their positions.

"30-15!"

"40-15!"

Ikeda exhaled hard as she won the game point off a poach that slipped past Davis' racquet by millimetres. "Game, Japan! 4 games to one! Change court!"

"They're going well." Sakura murmured. Fuji nodded. "Too well."

She elbowed him. "Be positive, senpai. They could just be tons better than the competition."

He gave her a minute smile. "You know it's usually more than that, Sakura-chan."

She sighed. "Sure, but we can hope. Anyway, I'm thirsty."

The squads had quietened down, now, and every eye was fixed on the TV, where Ikeda and Nomura were conferring with Coach Hardinge. Despite their sizeable lead, they did not look at ease; Ikeda in particular was frowning heavily, while Nomura's shoulders were coiled tight as a bowstring. Fuji-senpai was right, Sakura thought. They were going too well, and they knew it.

Sanada joined her at the water cooler in the corner of the room. "You don't look happy." He observed sotto voce.

Sakura bit her lip. "Fuji-senpai just said they were going way too well, and I think he might be right." She made a face. "Why can't things ever be easy?"

"If they were, what would we strive for?" He raised an eyebrow. "And you certainly wouldn't care for an easy match."

She grinned up at him. "You know me too well, Sanada-kun."

"Well enough." He replied, smiling minutely. Her own smile widened at the sight of his. He knows me. I am a person that he knows, that he understands, that he cares to understand."–that?" Sanada was saying.

"Sorry, what?"

He looked perplexed. "I asked if you were done with that." He gestured at the glass in her slack grip. Sakura blinked. "Oh! Yeah, sorry, sure, here you go." She handed it over, flushing pink and then red when she caught his gaze trailing down her darkening cheek. Had she just… stood there and grinned at him like an idiot while he spoke to her? She looked down, avoiding his gaze. It was unashamedly intense; it made her ache with something unbearable–

"Sanada-kun, your glass is overflowing." He jumped and looked down at the glass which was, in fact, overflowing. A soft hiss escaped him as he snapped the tap shut. Pink stole over his own cheekbones, and she eyed it, fascinated. How would that skin feel under her fingers? Warm? Rough– did he shave regularly? Would he have stubble in the morning–

Mikabi and Kirihara cheered loudly; Ikeda and Nomura-buchou had taken their fourth game.

Sanada cleared his throat, face still burning. "We should–" His fingers brushed Sakura's as she reached for the glass again. "Oh– sorry–"

"Don't worry about it." She mumbled, flushing once more to the roots of her hair. "I think Yukimura-san's looking at us, but don't–" Sanada's head snapped around. "–look." She sighed. "Too late. I'm gonna–" She gestured in Fuji's vague direction, biting her lip. With another nervous smile, she left him at the cooler.

Sanada took another sip, fingers clenched tight around the glass. Ikeda and Nomura lost two quick points to the American pair, and murmurs rose all about the room.

"At least they've still got a good lead." Junko said bracingly. But An was unsure. "I don't know, Junko-chan. Even a lead of three games can disappear like that." She snapped her fingers, and almost simultaneously batted a hurled paper ball out of the air. Kirihara met her glare with a smirk. Beside him, Oshitari rolled his eyes. "Kirihara-kun, that's hardly the way to seek a lady's attention."

"Don't you start, Four-Eyes." An sniped.

Mikabi, Sakura, and Fuji were deep in their own debate. "I don't know, I've never seen captain play doubles before." Mikabi shook her head. Fuji tilted his head. "She played a bit when we were freshmen," He replied. "But no, not much, and certainly not at any final or semi-final."

"Ikeda's doubles experience isn't too extensive either." Sakura mused. "They do look like they're in a good place now, but… I don't know, Davis look a bit too relaxed to you?"

Fuji regarded the screen with narrowed eyes. "You're right, Sakura-chan; she does look calm. Ivanova seems to be in a tight spot, but Davis keeps talking to her, and her game's getting better."

Mikabi pulled out her phone and began typing. "Check it out– looks like it's Ivanova's first international competition. Apparently she and her parents moved from Russia a few years ago, and she only just became eligible to represent America. She's been making waves in local tournaments in that place– the one with the English movies?–"

"California." Echizen drawled from Fuji's other side. Sakura started; she didn't know the little brat had been listening. He gave her a smirk.

"–Yeah, that one. But they couldn't pick her for any of the national teams, and she couldn't represent the country at the US Open either."

Fuji frowned. "Couldn't she have represented Russia?"

Echizen snorted. "Living in America? Good luck with that."

"But anyway, what's the big deal if it's her first international competition?" Sakura asked. "It's mine and yours too, Mikabi-chan. Most of us girls didn't represent Japan at the Juniors."

"But women's tennis here is still at the formative level." Fuji pointed out. "It makes sense to have a number of first-timers, since the pool is smaller and the dropout rate is on the higher side. A lot of the girls from the Junior team don't play anymore, and the pool has widened since then too, with players taking it up in high school. Like you, Sakura-chan."

Mikabi nodded. "What Fuji-senpai said. But America's a lot larger, and there are more players, which means the competition is fierce. All the others on that team have at least two international competitions on their resumés; Ivanova must be good to have broken in."

On screen, the girl in question slipped a poach past both Ikeda and Nomura. Sakura sucked in a breath.

"Game, America! 4 games all! Change court!"

Ikeda dashed the towel across her forehead. "Careful," Nomura murmured with a grin. "You'll take the skin off."

She scowled. "Don't get clever with me, Ayano," She snapped.

Nomura raised an eyebrow. "Not like you to get unsettled by an even contest. Too many easy victories?" Ikeda's mouth dropped open.

"You're one to talk!" She hissed. "You sent Kagawa to face me rather than put up a fight–"

"And she spooked you." Nomura finished, a thread of wonder in her tone. "Losing actually worries you now, doesn't it, Kotone?" She shook her head. "I don't think I've seen you this rattled since…"

"Since the club matches ten years ago? Or since your baby protegée pushed me to the edge last month?"

Nomura looked away. "She played brilliantly, didn't she? And yet… that final set, and then the tiebreak…" She turned back, and her eyes pinned Ikeda in place. "You didn't beat Kagawa. You beat yourself. I've known you ten years, and even I've never seen you play like that. I didn't know anyone could."

Her hand shot out, quick as a snake, and grasped Ikeda's wrist. "I'm asking for that now, Kotone. You're the best player this country has ever seen. Play like it."

Nomura's eyes were burning, freezing, demanding. Every inch of Ikeda came alive at the sight, and the slide of those fingers around her wrist. She took a deep breath.

We are the future.

"Take the net." She ordered hoarsely.

The future is here.

"Something's changed." Mikabi murmured, leaning forward to stare at the screen as though she could jump right in. "I wish we could've heard them earlier."

Sakura exhaled, hard. "Seemed pretty intense."

Something had changed. Ikeda, the consummate serve and volley player, appeared to have taken charge. Ikeda's serve flew like a bullet, but Davis intercepted it easily. But Ikeda was sure-footed, her movements more precise and calculated than before. She replied with a stinging sidespin groundstroke to Ivanova's left, causing the girl to curse and dive for it. She got to it, but then Nomura was there, and the ball was slipped by Davis' ankle, giving them the point.

"15- love!"

On the next serve, Ikeda dashed to the net. Nomura dropped back. She had always been more aggressive from the baseline anyway.

"30-love!"

Serve three: Nomura slipped a poach past the eel-like Ivanova. Ikeda was already at the baseline, waiting to serve.

"40-love!"

She served, and charged. Nomura remained where she was. A quick glance; a nod.

"That's aggressive..." Mikabi murmured.

"And risky." Sakura added.

But it wasn't, not really. When you're seven, eight, nine, and only one other girl does what you do, as well as you do, you tend to do more. Together. Pushing one another, challenging one another, making, moulding, forming one another. Even if you grow in different directions, your roots are entwined and you can always, always come back to earth again.

Nomura's thigh was sturdier than it had been at twelve; a better launchpad. Ikeda leapt, and she was a shadow against the sun. To Nomura, she was bathed in gold, bathed in light, and she was everything.

"Game, Japan! 5 games to 4!"

Some things are certain.

"Game and match, Japan's Ikeda-Nomura pair! Six games to four!"

It was something; Ikeda's hand was sweaty in hers as they raised them to acknowledge the screaming crowd. The future is here. We're here. Nomura felt something build in her chest, something warm and sweet and dangerous.

Their opponents were rueful, but the uptick to both their lips had spoken of a game well-fought and well-won. "Let's play again sometime," Davis said, and her butchery of the language made them grin.

"Yes." Ikeda agreed. "Maybe at Wimbledon."

Oooooh. Nomura could see their grins take on an edge. But there was something else she had to say.

"I'm sorry about the crowd." She looked Davis in the eye, and spoke in halting English. "Please accept our apologies– people can be–" Cruel, she wanted to say, but it sounded so… trite. "Slow to understand."

Davis looked at her coolly. "Understand what?"

"Reality." Ikeda replied. Her eyes were dark. That sweet, sharp something jabbed at Nomura's ribs again.

They parted with another handshake, and then it was just them again. The corridor was dark again, throwing Ikeda's profile into shadow; the roar of the crowd was muted; the sound of the team distant. But there. They had to hurry, or they'd be missed soon.

"Kotone," Nomura's murmur sounded like a gunshot. She sensed rather than saw that profile turn fully; she couldn't look yet. That sweetness was threatening to rip its way up her throat.

Ikeda's silence was a watchful, expectant thing. Nomura breathed it in, filling her lungs. "We'll… we'll talk after Nationals." Before the other girl could say anything, she grabbed her hand– a desperate snatch in the dark– and pressed hot lips to her knuckles. "I promise."

Ikeda's voice was a smiling, frothing thing. Her hand spasmed around Nomura's. "It's a date."

Finally! This chapter was so difficult to write omg. Let me know what you think!

Cheers,

Chilli.