Andante

Composed by: Chiaki Nozomi

Ryo.Saku.

Sakuno sighed as she closed the pages of yet another manga. Her shelves were starting to become packed with the stories about the most unlikely couples coming together. She placed her hand over her heart to stop the quickened breathing, and fanned her flushed face.

No matter what the characters' names were, she always managed to change them to "Ryoma-kun" and "Ryuzaki", although by the end he would be calling her by "Sakuno", perhaps with a nice "-chan" added in privacy…

She felt her face flush again. How long has she had that petty, childish crush on the tennis star? Three? Four years? She sighed. The built up energy was becoming too much. "I'll burst soon because of these feelings," she murmured and stuck the graphic novel back in her bag.

When she drew her hand back out, a strap poked out, taunting her with its bright red presence. She smiled and pulled out the camera, adjusting the various levels and knobs until she was satisfied it would compliment the day's light.

Somewhere along the days she had picked up a new hobby – photography. At first it was just a ploy to see Ryoma often with a better reason than "I'm following you like a puppy dog." And she did. She knew she did. She also knew that it annoyed him. But something drew her to him like a fly to honey. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, when he walked into a room she knew even if her back was turned, something inside Sakuno connected with Echizen Ryoma completely.

The pictures provided another perk – she had a little album of pictures at home of Ryoma and the rest of the team, their matches, their ups, their downs – everything – were saved. Occasionally she would look through it and smile at the memories, although none were her own directly.

Ryoma's were her favorite, with obvious reasons. Something about his presence seemed to be captured in photographs, his poetic movements caught in mid flight, his serious, zoned complexion made her feel like a mirror, reflecting everything but without a form of her own.

And she was nothing to him. Then again, everything outside of tennis was nothing to Echizen. Her first tactic had been to learn tennis, but he never noticed a neophyte like herself, only the brightest stars of the tennis world.

"Here you go again, wallowing in self pity," Sakuno mumbled and looked at the sky. The sun was nearing her prime, which meant Saturday practice was about to start. She stood, swiped the grass off her legs, and lightly jogged toward the tennis courts.

Ryoma almost laughed as he saw the chocolate haired girl approach. Everyday for as long as he could remember, she would come to their practices. At first she cheered, but once she picked up that camera habit she stopped, much to his approval. If only she could get that loud mouth friend of hers to shut up as well. . .

He sighed and wondered how many pictures she had of the team at home. Probably hundreds. Maybe even thousands. For a moment he pondered the number of pictures that were of him, and him only, but Coach Syaoran blew his whistle before he could come up with a number.

There was something magical of being in shape. The smooth, silky feel of your body as you run, the muscles contracting and relaxing easily, the efficiency of the lungs that enabled long distances… everything. Ryoma finished his laps easily, and began stretching.

Click. Click. Click. At first the sound annoyed him as much as her yelling, but after awhile the clicks became part of his rhythm. He could predict the clicks, pok – click - pok – click – pok - click. Now, as he stretched, he could hear the clicks, in time with his counting, clicking halfway through the count and at the end.

They were to do friendly matches today, which usually equaled to a mere goof off day. They had won the tournament that guaranteed them a trip to the nationals, and to celebrate Coach allowed them one week of 'rest' – half the daily number of sets and friendly matches.

Ryoma caught up on the lost time at home, playing with his mocking father. Still, his skills were no where near good enough to surpass him, although once or twice he had gotten close.

He scoffed at his opponent, some third year who had transferred from China the day before, and readied himself for the serve. He watched the angle of the racket, the height of the throw, the speed of the arc… pok – click – pok – pok – click.

Sakuno diligently watched the game through the eye of her camera. The once foreign eye made the matches hard to follow, for the speed of the game clashed with the narrow view, but once she became accustomed to it, zooming in and out within shots became natural.

His opponent, the Chinese exchange student, Ky-Xuang, had no apparent tricks up his sleeve, and overall seemed like one of the lower opponents Ryoma faced.

She blinked suddenly, Xuang had taken an odd shot, with his racket twisted in an awkward angle and the ball flying... toward her! She dropped her camera but was too slow to move out of the way. BAM!

Ryoma's jaw dropped. Did that brat just peg Ryuzaki in the face? He tossed a quick death glare – highly effective judging by the look on the exchange student's face – and dashed to the fence, stopping in front of her.

Her shoulders shook, and he wondered if she was crying. "Hey," he called, and his eyes widened as she looked up, breathing shakily while trying to hold back the tears. He smirked, perhaps she gained a spine? "You okay," he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

"Y-yeah," she replied, voice trembling.

Ryoma chuckled and nodded, "Hold on," he ordered, jogged over to her. "Let me see your eye," he instructed, and she shook her head, still covering her eye. His eyes narrowed and he reached up and removed it, while her face grew ten shades darker. He stared at her hurt eye - judging by the swelling it would turn purple by the end of the day.

"Follow me," he commanded, although even if he didn't, she would follow him anyway. A sudden plop made him stop in his tracks. Ryuzaki the klutz. She was brushing off her knee with one hand, the other still covering her eye. Had this been a movie, Ryoma would have scoffed at the sheer idiocy of the moment. As it stood now, it looked more pitiful than anything else.

He walked over and held out his hand. "Get up." Her face flushed as she looked at the hand, but weakly put it in his own.

His strong grip nearly crushed her hand as he pulled her up. She would normally wince from the pain, but strangely the excitement of being near Ryoma stifled the pain.

This time he kept his pace slower than usual, allowing her to almost walk side by side with him. Soft whimpers left her mouth, much to his enjoyment. She tried so hard to appear tough.

He entered the locker room and made a beeline for the first aid box. He pulled out one of the 'icy-hot' packs and snapped the metal inside before tossing it to her. "Put it on your eye before it gets worse, he commanded, and frowned when she missed the bag. He walked over swiftly and bent to pick up the bag at the same time as Sakuno. Their hands brushed each other, and both pulled away quickly.

Ryoma's hand tingled where her fingers touched, puzzling him. Since when had he pulled away at the contact of another being? He reached down and picked up the bag and handed it to her.

"Sorry," she said and took the baggy gingerly.

"You should go home," he advised, "You can't take pictures and hold that thing up at the same time."

Sakuno's eyes widened. "You- you noticed I take pictures?"

"What else do you do with that chunk of metal you carry around your neck," Ryoma snidely replied, to which Sakuno apologized. He frowned; she may have developed some spine, but not near enough. He didn't answer her though, and walked out of the room. Sakuno touched her hand, which had Ryoma's touch burned into memory. He noticed her… Her heart nearly stopped.

Ryoma didn't notice a large number of his teammates scattering suddenly upon his return, and if he had, perhaps tomorrow's surprise wouldn't have been a surprise…