Bildungsroman

Chapter 11

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

"You're an idiot." Aiki threw yet another chunk of blood-soaked cotton into the bin. Beside her, Airi, Momoko and Kagome echoed the sentiment.

Sakura scowled. "Enough already…" She muttered. Her mother gave her a severe look. "Don't give me that." She snapped. "Ryuzaki-sensei said you threw yourself around unnecessarily. That pretty much spells 'idiot' to me. And didn't you faint in class earlier? And end up in Kanagawa because you were asleep on the bus?"

That gossipy old hag! "You… uh, she told you about that, huh…?" She tugged at her end of her ponytail; anything was better than facing her mother's anger.

"Indeed she did. Although I'd have preferred to hear it from you…" Sakura winced. Caught in a lie, too. Her life literally could not get any worse. "I didn't wanna worry you…" She attempted weakly. "Anyway, Tezuka-buchou handled it… Sanada-san and his team were there…"

"That's not the point, Sakura, and you know it!" Aiki's tone was a whip-crack; all four girls jumped. "There's a pattern to your screw-ups, and you can't shut your eyes to it anymore!"

Sakura felt the tell-tale scalding in her eyes that signalled the onset of tears. There was nothing she could say to that. It was true. Yesterday's match had been a (public) culmination of the painfully unhealthy pattern of over-achieving she'd been on since the beginning of the year– and it was barely three months in. She hunched, allowing her bangs to cover her face, a tactic that might have worked if she hadn't been surrounded by her friends and, um, her mother.

Momoko knelt, since Aiki was still busy cleaning the wounds. Almost timidly, she slipped her fingers under Sakura's limp ones and ran her thumbs over the back of her hands. "Sakura-chan, you're going to have to quit one of them, you know that, right?" She kept her tone feather-light, a stark contrast to the her friend's mother. "And… I mean… you're great at tennis and all, but you love debating, and you've been in that club a bit longer…"

"Can we… can we not talk about this right now?" Sakura's voice cracked halfway. She let out a wet chuckle. "Man, I'm blubbing like a baby… But I really don't want to talk about quitting and such… I just want to do something else, Momo-chan… something fun." She met their eyes imploringly. The other three girls looked quizzically at each other. "Like what?" Kagome asked. "You wanna go catch a movie or something?"

"Yeah, that Ghost in the Shell movie's playing now." Airi played with the lace edges of her skirt. Sakura frowned. "The one with the American? No, that'll just piss me off."

"Just go shopping or something." Aiki suggested, finally tying off the second bandage. "Sakura's been making noises about a dress she saw the other day… a little casual shopping always makes me feel better."

Airi shrugged, but there was a speculative glint in her eye. "S'not a bad idea… I've had my eye on this kanzashi for a while…" She looked at the other three.

They were already nodding, excited. "Sounds like a plan."

"You sure you should be wearing those, Sakura-chan?" Momoko eyed the three-inch high boots mistrustfully. "Your knees aren't exactly…"

"They're wedges, Momo-chan." Sakura replied crossly. Honestly, six was too many times to answer the same damn question. "And I don't walk on my knees."

Kagome glomped Momoko from behind; Airi rolled her eyes and scooted closer to Sakura as the two girls wobbled around. "Stop worrying, Momo-mama." Kagome all but shouted. "Airi-chan can carry Sakura-chan if she can't walk–"

"–If." Sakura interjected. She gave her reflection an appreciative nod as they passed a motorbike store window. These were her favourite shorts for a reason. And her favourite boots too!

Airi tilted her head upwards and blew a thin stream of smoke, before passing the cigarette to Kagome. Sakura and Momoko held their breath until the smoke dissipated completely.

"Honestly," Momoko huffed. "I can't understand why you two don't just quit."

The two girls rolled their eyes; Sakura patted Momoko's arm. "Save your breath, mama. Look, we're almost here."

"But Sakura-chan, it's an awful habit. An awful, smelly habit." Momoko wrinkled her nose. "If I smell smoky when I get home, I'll kill you both."

"We're shaking in our shoes." Airi replied sarcastically. Kagome snickered, but crushed the cigarette butt underfoot as they approached the metal detectors that signalled the entrance to the market.

"Oh, lucky me, it's still there!" Sakura exclaimed, grabbing Airi's hand and dragging her to the shop window. Airi scrutinised the dress through narrowed eyes. "Sure the colour won't make you look too pale?"

Sakura shrugged, grinning. "Only one way to find out, right?" She led the way into the shop.

"It's pretty, Sakura-chan." Kagome reassured her as they left. "And you have those nice sandals to go with it."

Airi tucked her thumbs into her pockets, her own smaller paper bag hooked around her fingers. It wasn't a comfortable position. "I still think it makes you look pale, but I mean, it's a pretty dress, sure."

"Don't be mean, Airi-chan, she already bought it."

"Yeah, still." What was wrong with an opinion? It wasn't like she and Sakura always went with each other's advice, unlike Momoko and Kagome. Sometimes Airi wondered if those two ever bought anything that another person didn't agree with. Where was the personality?

Case in point: Sakura did not like the skirt she was wearing. Denim and lace, Airi-chan, really? She'd asked. It does have a unique feel to it, though.

And that was the point. Momoko and Kagome liked pretty clothes. Sakura and Airi preferred clothing that spoke.

Sakura even owned a dress (that was stowed deep inside her closet, away from her mother's eyes) that she'd bought because, in her words, doesn't this scream classy hooker, Airi-chan?

Airi had flatly refused to offer an opinion on that one. Sakura could wear what she liked, but while Airi wasn't exactly conservative, her hemlines (and necklines) never crossed certain boundaries. Sakura, on the other hand, had more of a taste for sometimes-disastrous experimentation.

Like the thigh-high LED boots. Which self-respecting fifteen year-old purchased and wore glow-in-the-dark disco-ball thigh-highs?!

Those boots had screamed I'M A FUCKING MORON, and Sakura had apparently been temporarily deaf.

"Och, I'm hungry." Momoko whined. Well, that they could easily rectify. Sakura chuckles as the three girls squabble over what to eat. Her own eyes drift thoughtfully in the direction of the tournament venue. Oishi-senpai and Kazumi-senpai were probably done by now. She wondered how Momo and Mikabi-chan were doing. It felt so strange, not being there. Almost kind of… kind of…

…wrong.

Sakura sighed softly. Rikkai's debate society was going to be having another inter-school competition in a month or so. And this time, they'd definitely prepare for Seigaku. Teams like theirs only slipped up once.

Decisions, decisions. Even if she tried to avoid them, she couldn't ignore what was in her own head.

You will never achieve your goals if you do anything with less than your whole heart.

Her whole heart…? But what if her heart itself was divided?

"Hey." Fingers snapped before her eyes; Sakura jerked as though stung. Momoko peered at her, concerned. "We wanted to have ramen… are you sure you're okay?"

Okay? What was okay?

"Yeah, I'm good." Sakura nodded. "Y'know, you guys go ahead. I'm… I got something else on my mind."

Kagome groaned. "God, Sakura-chan, not croissants again. You live on those things."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with croissants." Sakura protested mildly. "Actually, I was gonna grab a roll real quick and head to the courts."

Yeah, that was the wrong thing to say.

Momoko frowned, and it was so reminiscent of her mother that Sakura bit the inside of her cheek. "You're not supposed to play–"

"Do I look like I can?" Sakura interrupted, rolling her eyes. "I'm just gonna watch. My entire team is there, okay? It just feels weird not being there to support them." Kagome didn't look happy either, but Airi was eyeing her with a strange smirk, and Sakura quirked a brow. What?

Airi shook her head. Nothing.

"Nomura-senpai said you don't have to be there." Kagome objected.

"That's… why I have to go."

Last week's crowd hadn't been a one-time thing; mixed doubles really was popular. It was a novel idea, or maybe it was just the general tennis mania that, for some strange reason, was particularly potent in Japan. Sakura didn't know. What she did know was that she had not expected this.

The first match was still on.

"Seriously? You guys started late or something?" Mikabi jumped, not having seen them approach. "Sakura-chan!" She exclaimed.

Which, naturally, caught the attention of the rest of the crew. Nomura raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were resting." She remarked. Sakura shook her head. "I slept for fourteen hours last night. This is relaxing."

"Retail therapy, huh?" The slight tightness to the captain's tone had vanished; wry humour was in her eyes as she eyed the bags in the girls' hands. Sakura grinned. "Just a bit, captain."

"Lookin' good, Sakura-chan." Imako eyed her ensemble appreciatively. "Love the shorts. And the boots. Very sexy." She winked. Sakura laughed, and something relaxed in all the girls at the sound. There was a lightness to that laugh that was conspicuous in its reappearance.

"I like the top, personally." Mikabi chimed in, eyeing the off-shoulder grey affair. Sakura smiled her thanks, before repeating her question.

"Nah." Mikabi shook her head. "They're good. Really good." Sakura's brow furrowed at her sombre tone; it didn't seem to be reflected on Oishi-senpai and Kazumi-senpai's faces.

In fact, the pair looked like they were enjoying themselves.

"Kazumi's in good form today, isn't she?" Imako remarked, her fingers flying across the keyboard of her laptop. The Notepad page she had open was crawling with text- 1679 words and counting. No one was privy to Imako's notes. Even Shizuka and Reiko, two of the other new regulars (alongside Sakura and Mikabi) and frighteningly good hackers, hadn't been able to break into Imako's laptop. To accomplish such a feat would be the equivalent of storming Osaka Castle in the 1590s– ie, impossible.

"Yeah, she's flying." Nomura was smiling a little proudly; Kazumi's grace, sure-footedness and impeccable sense of balance, the products of years of dancing, always made her tennis a fantastic visual experience. She had strong, muscular legs, and her style, although not acrobatic like Kikumaru's, was characterised by quicksilver poaches and volleys, making her the obvious partner for the brick wall that was Oishi.

The Yamabuki pair, however, was incredible, too– Sengoku Kiyosumi was a well-known name in the tennis circuit, and Fuyuki Sachiko, his partner, was like a coiled tigress, claws at the ready. She was taller than him, almost as tall as Oishi, and when she approached the net, Kazumi looked like a child before her.

Sengoku's Kohou nearly blew Oishi's racket away.

"Game, Yamabuki! 3 games all! Change court!"

Sakura whistled. "Still 3 all? Man, Yamabuki can sure drag a match out."

"Hey, hey, hey!" All of them twitched as Horio's voice rose to uncomfortable pitches. "Is that the Australian Formation?!"

Mikabi leaned forward, stunned. "Are they serious? Australian?" She swung around to glare at Momo. "You said it was still too early for us to try that! Look at them!"

He looked annoyed. "Well, I'm not Oishi-senpai!"

"Will you two shut up, they're starting." Airi drawled. Nomura smirked as the partners sputtered.

Kazumi hunkered down still further at the net as Oishi tossed the ball up. "Oishi's serve isn't the fastest or the most powerful." Imako muttered. "Both Mikabi-chan and Sakura-chan have faster serves. But…"

"Oishi's is more consistent." Fuji finished, nodding. "His serve will remain at the same speed throughout the match, while other, faster serves decline as they take their toll on the user."

Sakura shoulder-checked him playfully. "Are you dissing your partner, seeeen-pai?" He only chuckled, patting her head. "I would never. By the way, Sakura-chan, you look very pretty." His eyes came to rest on her legs; specifically, on her knees. "How are your injuries?"

Sakura shrugged. "They twinge a bit. Actually, the itching is the irritating part. Can't scratch unless I want blood under my fingernails." The listening group grimaced at the image, while Fuji only chuckled again.

"Itching means it's healing." Inui supplied helpfully. "It's a good sign; it wasn't as serious as it looked."

"Try telling my mother that." She muttered. Airi, Kagome and Momoko muffled their laughter (unsuccessfully. Sakura scowled at them.)

"Game, Seigaku; 4 games to 3!" The Australian Formation was working like a charm, it seemed. Kazumi's eyes were dancing mischievously.

"She's really enjoying this." Nomura mused, smiling herself. "Kazumi does love tennis."

The words hit Sakura unexpectedly hard. Kazumi really loves tennis. She did. The sparkle in her eyes, her relaxed shoulders– Sakura threw herself after the ball because she hated losing. Kazumi enjoyed every moment of the chase, the execution, and if it came, the win.

Mikabi's powerful shoulders; the fierce grin as she swung and the ball nearly took Sakura's head off. I'll go pro, she'd said, as they left the street courts one evening, a year and an age ago. S'nothing else I wanna do. I just wanna play tennis.

She thought of Kirihara Akaya, feet pounding the earth and swinging racquet and burning, blazing focus. His entire, vast existence within the white lines of the tennis court.

The three of them, so different, but with that identical sparkle in their eyes. Twinkling hazel was shining blue was glowing green. Was passion. KazumiMikabiKirihara does love tennis.

What does Sakura love, apart from winning?

What do I want?

Sanada-san, firm and brutal and kind, looked at her again, hard brown and knowing. You will never achieve your goals if you do anything with less than your whole heart.

What is my goal?

Sakura took a step back, and looked at her team. Distance. Could she take another step? A final one?

What would it cost to walk away from all this? Kazumi-senpai's kindness, Mikabi's ferocity, Imako-senpai's patience, Reiko's tenacity, Momo's willpower, Fuji-senpai's unsounded depths, Inui-senpai's well-meaning torture, Tezuka-buchou's inspiration? And Nomura-buchou? Belief, drive, challenge. Could she walk away from all this?

But…

Ueda-senpai. Asano-senpai. Yamato. The easy camaraderie, the underlying ferocity that they all shared. The high of constructing an argument only to have it torn down, the crossing of staves, the battle of wits. Could she walk away from that?

Her heart was divided.

And so, that night, as she lay in her bed, Sakura put her head to use.

It was Monday morning. Debate club's one mandatory practice time, no exceptions. Asano and Ueda were the first to reach the club room, as usual.

Or not.

"Blossom-chan, you're early." Ueda hugged her. "Good grief! What the hell happened to your legs?" His horrified gaze took in the bandages south of the hem of her shorts.

Her shorts...

Asano's eyes narrowed. "Kagawa-chan, you're dressed for tennis practice."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a statement.

It was a realisation.

Sakura swallowed painfully. "Yeah. I am." She bit her lip before extending her hand. There was an envelope clasped in her fingers.

"Ueda-senpai, Asano-senpai." She looked and sounded… brittle. Wistful, but determined. "Please accept my formal resignation from the debate club."

Aaaand BOOM! Bet you weren't expecting that! (Actually I hope you weren't, otherwise I have seriously start questioning my abilities as a storyteller)

Hope you enjoyed this! The next chapter will probably be the last before the hiatus.

As always, reviews are love!

Cheers,
Chilli.