Bildungsroman
Chapter 24
Writing tennis is hard. I ded.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, with no copyright infringement intended. I don't own PoT, which belongs to Takeshi Konomi.
Life is a strange and funny thing. It gets out of hand sometimes, can be hard to keep track of; it all gets a bit too much sometimes.
Sakura had come to appreciate the other times: when life can be whittled down to a few quantifiable problems, problems that are really questions with answers, where the challenge is to come up with the right answer in the right situation at the right time- or at least, just in time.
Throwing her into a Singles 2 match without warning had been a gamble on Nomura's part, but Sakura could appreciate it now, both for the experience it had been as well as for the faith it has shown. The same kind of faith her captain was showing in her now.
Maybe she wasn't going to beat Ikeda. But now that she was putting pen to paper and working out solutions and factors and variables, her opponent didn't seem so invincible. There was a case- a slight case, very slight- to be made for Sakura.
"Her second serve is weaker, less accurate." Imako told her. "Of course, she does have a very low percentage of double-faults, but keep that in mind."
Sakura narrowed her eyes at the diagram. "Favoured first and second-serve areas?" She asked.
"First serves are normally down the centre." Imako replied. "Second serves are a little more sprayed, but about 60 percent closer to the wide angle than the first ever gets."
Sakura marked the first serve line in purple, and the second in three lines of red dots. "Is this accurate?"
The older girl examined it. "Outer line's not so close. She doesn't play that safe." Sakura nodded, reaching for the whitener. "She doesn't often go for wide first serves."
"So she might not expect it." Sakura nodded. "But she's a little… lots of high-risk shots in her style."
"Serve and volley singles players tend to do that… even without Kikumaru's antics." Imako's voice was a tad dry. "Normally, I'd say aim for the feet, but that strategy hasn't worked for anyone yet. So don't bother. Attack her mid-court; lateral movement while she's moving in might be a tad difficult. The key is to keep her running."
Sakura nodded. "And on my serve, I can mix it up a bit." She smiled a little smugly. "Down the centre and out wide- that'll make it hard for her to predict."
Her phone buzzed. Two simple words. Good luck.
She tucked it away, stomach fluttering. "You can't miss a single serve." Imako was saying, tapping her side of the diagram-court. "Ikeda's not going to be giving away free points, so you can't either. Your accuracy needs to be on point on the day."
"You can say that again." She replied, penciling her own service and return areas in. "I'm going to stick to the baseline as much as possible- can't afford to get locked into a net battle."
"Good thinking," Imako's fingers danced across the keys. "But you will need to come in often, and come in fast. Spend tomorrow's morning practice on those drills Kazumi taught you- the speed and footwork ones. You remember, right?"
Sakura assured her that she did. "And I'd better practise without the weights- can't lose balance on the day."
"Obviously." Imako rolled her eyes. Sakura stuck out her tongue.
"I can't believe you're only five months along." She murmured, laying ginger hands on her mother's belly. Was this… globe stomach normal for five months? Aiki laughed. "Oh, love, it's going to get bigger, you know." Sakura's eyes certainly got bigger at that. Aiki laughed at her again.
Sakura laid her cheek against her stomach and smiled. "Thought of any names?" She asked. Her mother nodded. "I was thinking of Hanae or Mei, for a girl." She replied. "And if it's a boy, Yusuke."
"I like Hanae." Sakura agreed. "But I kinda hope it's a boy. Yusuke, though?"
Her mother pouted. "What's wrong with it?" Sakura snickered.
"Nothing, nothing. Yusuke is cool."
Aiki snorted. "Your father wanted to call him Raiden. Go make fun of that."
She mimed vomiting. "Yusuke, then. Definitely Yusuke."
Truth be told, Sakura wasn't sure what to do with this crush.
Normally, she'd flirt, test the waters, maybe make the first move. But she'd always steered clear of dating friends; the risks were just too high, the potential for drama too much. So this wasn't normal, for her.
Not least because Sanada was far from her usual type. Her strange former crush on Tezuka aside, she tended to favour the stereotypical bad boy with a good heart- smoking on street corners (daringly, sometimes, in school uniform), cutting class, but always, unfailingly there for his (few) friends and of course, her. It was probably safe to say that Sanada was not that.
He was a strait-laced, plain-speaking, stubborn stick-in-the-mud with a tradition hangover so intense it made her head ache. And yet.
Sakura sighed as her phone buzzed with another text. This one asking if she was 'alright, because silence was definitely not her strong point.'
Asshole. She smiled softly, remembering the look on his face as she'd tugged on his cap. Half surprise, half… amusement? Relief? Happiness?
Oh, she was going to drive herself mental. She tossed her phone back onto the bed and bent over her homework.
Sanada felt absent-mindedly in his pocket for his phone. Felt the way it hadn't buzzed with an incoming text in a while.
Felt his brow crease into a frown. Concern licked at his stomach. Confusion, too.
"You're looking rather fearsome, Genichirou." Yukimura remarked, slanting a glance at him.
Sanada extricated his hand from his pocket. "Seigaku won't be easy to beat."
The captain hummed. "No, they won't, will they?"
Mikabi's hair was pulled back in a tight French braid. Sakura eyed it curiously. "Special look for a special occasion?" She teased, and then regretted it when she saw the slightest hint of colour on the other girl's cheeks.
"We are in the finals." Mikabi replied, ducking her head to double-knot her laces. Sakura did the same, making sure to tighten her own ponytail and secure the pins.
When she straightened up, Mikabi was holding out her pink wristband. The other girl was grinning. "Gotta start off serious, don't you?"
She took it, reveling in the lightness of it. Pink was a 'frivolous' colour, the colour of delicate little girls and cherry blossoms, the colour of hair ribbons in pre-school, the colour of 'not enough', 'too girly' and every other epithet that every girl on this team had swallowed, chewed and spat back into their detractors' faces.
Every girl on every team, really. Every girl everywhere, whether they fit the mould or not. No matter what the mould was, no woman had ever been 'enough'. Too much of A, too little of B. Too much, too little, not enough, not good enough… not bad for a girl.
She slipped the pink wristband on- it had no weights slotted in and velcroed tight; it was nothing but unbranded, soft, stretchy cotton in the colour of little girls and her name, encasing a wrist too slender and too strong to consider breaking.
When she had started playing tennis, a mere two years ago, Sakura had been very proud of her slender wrists; she still was, and she was even more proud of the muscles in the arms that ended in those wrists, and in her legs too. She looked at Mikabi, with her thick, rounded shoulders and belligerent, steel-bright grin; she was proud of her too.
"I'm always serious, Mikabi-chan." She purred. A patent, bold-faced lie, and the two of them laughed even as she said it.
Sakura looked around at the rest of them- Kazumi was testing her racquet-strings, forehead creased and tongue poking out; Rin, shy Rin, was cracking her knuckles as she pored over her handy little notebook; Shizuka and Imako-senpai were sharing earphones and grins, knees jiggling to the beat, teeth bared; Reiko was running from kit to kit, making sure everyone's racquets were in good condition and their bottles filled. Sakura caught her eye, and Reiko gave her a thumbs-up.
Nomura was staring out at the crowd, and she looked younger than Sakura had ever seen her. Ikeda's just a seventeen year old girl, she'd said; so was Nomura, for all her gravitas and Sakura's respect; she was seventeen, and her heart was light, and what should have been a capitulation to her biggest rival now seemed like the easiest decision she'd ever made.
"Good crowd." She spoke up, and Sakura felt every spine in the room snap to attention. That was Nomura Ayano, because positions be damned, they were Seigaku, not Rikkai, and she was captain. "Ignore them, alright?"
"Yes, captain!" They all chorused, and Nomura's eyes crinkled fondly.
"Give 'em hell, ladies."
"The Kantou tournament final between Seishun Gakuen and Rikkai Dai will now begin!"
Sakura's phone buzzed. "Excuse me." She murmured, stepping a few paces away. A tall figure in the opposing stands did the same, and her heart flipped a little.
"Hey," She began, before clearing her throat. "Hi."
"Hi." He rumbled. "I… have I done something to offend you?"
Sakura flinched. "No- not-" she began, but the loud cheer from her end of the stands drowned out the reply. She couldn't do this now. "I'm sorry, I have to go." She tapped the 'end call' icon before he could change her mind, and walked back to the dugout.
"Boy trouble?" Nomura asked casually. Sakura forced a smile and shook her head. "If only." She quipped, prompting a laugh from the others. She didn't dare look at the Rikkai stands, where the lone figure moved slowly to join his cohorts. Too slowly.
One doubles match apiece- Rin and Mikabi had gritted their teeth and pushed and pushed until they hit victory; Shizuka and Imako had fought like wildcats on the long, long way down. Things were evenly poised when Nomura Ayano stood up, pushed the jersey from her shoulders, and won her match before she set foot on the court.
Furious whispers raced around the crowd. Rikkai's Singles 3 player was pale as she met her opponent. Ikeda Kotone's eyes went very wide, then narrowed. Nomura called correctly. "Serve." She chose, and really, the match was over already, it was written in every bob of her adversary's throat.
It wasn't an easy match, because Ikeda Kotone trained fighters; but it wasn't the kind of match you'd take bets on. In the dugout, Kazumi left to warm up. Sakura began to measure her breaths.
"Game and match, Seigaku's Nomura! Six games to love!" An utter domination, a display of ruthlessness that no one had seen coming from Seigaku's captain so early in the game. Nomura smiled, a clever, sharp thing, and Ikeda felt her pulse spike with both anger and affection. Damn you, Ayano. As Sato Kazumi rose to take the court for her match, Kotone's eyes locked on to the last two players in the Seigaku dugout. She'd eat her own racquet if Ayano hadn't put Kagawa in Singles 1.
What are you thinking, Ayano? She wondered. Oh, she'd win easily enough, and Ayano had to know that. Unless she didn't care about what loss might do to her little protégée? But that wasn't like her at all; that was a thought more likely to form in Ikeda's mind. Ayano cared about people; it was one of the things that Ikeda both loved and hated about her. It made her a splendid captain, a wonderful friend, and a thoroughly infuriating rival.
(Although there was no question of friends anymore after this non-match-up; Ayano had given up the match against her. As far as Kotone was concerned, that was a declaration, and they could either be more or nothing at all. This friends crap wasn't going to work anymore)
Sato was a treat to watch, Ikeda would give her that. Beautiful strokes, almost flawless net play, and footwork that belonged in the ballroom, or on stage. Her tennis wasn't just pretty to look at, though; twice, Ikeda saw Junko nurse what looked to be painfully raw palms.
But Junko played almost every day against the finest net player in Japan, so Kazumi's elegant game came up short against the mass of experience the Rikkai girl had accrued over years of playing the best. Ikeda was almost sorry when it ended; Sato had really given Junko a run for her money, and now Singles One would decide the winner.
A glance at the opposite camp told her that Kagawa had risen, and was speaking quietly with Fuji. Oh yes, the two were doubles partners- and undefeated so far. No doubt they'd be taking the court together tomorrow. She probably shouldn't tire the girl out too much then, or she'd be absolutely useless in the mixed doubles finals.
The sound from their cheering squad was deafening, but somehow, she still managed to hear Yukimura, though the blue-haired creep didn't raise his voice the slightest bit. "Oh, I see Kagawa-chan's friend in the stands." He was saying to Sanada. The latter looked even more constipated than usual, which really was an achievement. "Should we go and say hello, Genichirou?"
"That girl who took a swing at Kirihara?" Yanagi put in, and Ikeda should technically be on her way out right now, but this was getting interesting. She propped a shoe up on the bench and began to worry the laces. "Tamashiro-san, I think."
Sanada grunted. "I think so." His eyes were trained on the Seigaku dugout.
"I'm not surprised you don't remember," Yukimura mused. "You and Kagawa-chan disappeared fairly quickly that evening."
Niou and Kirihara snorted loudly. Sanada whipped around and glared, but the redness that had crept into his cheeks was tell-tale. Ikeda smirked. Oho, so it was like that, was it?
"We didn't disappear." He spoke through gritted teeth. "You chose to trail Tamashiro like an unwanted puppy. I showed Kagawa around the festival, as promised."
Yukimura's smile sharpened. "I'm sure you showed her the many interesting sights of the festival." He sniped back, and wow, that was definitely high on the list of 'most bitchy things Yukimura Seiichi has said'. Ikeda really wanted to hear the rest of this (who was this Tamashiro?), but her match was announced, and so she abandoned the pretence of lace-tightening and stood up.
Surprisingly, Kagawa's cheeks lacked the pallor that Nomura had inspired in her opponent. But she did look like she had a mild case of lockjaw- no easy smile, nothing. "Which?" She asked.
"Smooth." Ikeda replied, eyeing her very normal complexion with idle curiosity. It landed smooth. Sakura's jaw clenched even tighter.
Ikeda held out her hand. "I'll let you serve first." She said sweetly. "Let's have a good match, Kagawa."
Sakura blinked. She hadn't expected that. "I second that." She replied, clasping Ikeda's hand and giving it a firm shake.
She retreated to her end, slipping the ball out of her pocket and bouncing it. One. Two.
She paused, looked up at Ikeda. How the girl managed to look utterly relaxed and wound spring-tight at the same time, Sakura would never know.
Three, four. Five.
She caught the ball. Measured her breath. Gripped her racquet.
The serve was fast, flat, accurate. But textbook; Ikeda caught up to it almost lazily and sent it flying back to the opposite corner. Sakura, on the other hand, only just made it.
She couldn't quite make it to the drop that followed.
"Love-fifteen!"
She breathed in softly, as though trying to calm her thudding heart. And served.
This rally was a little longer, but eventually, Ikeda put it away. It was a short, tight drop with an angle so vicious that Sakura had no answer; but she was definitely going to try that one.
She lost the first game, but her eyes remained calculating, and she appeared to be muttering under her breath. Imako's head had dropped into her hands for a moment, but she raised it at Nomura's low chuckle. "She's not wasting any time." Her eyes were on Sakura, not Ikeda. "Good for her."
"You know she's going to lose." Kazumi murmured, low enough for the Rikkai cheerleaders to drown her out. Nomura raised an eyebrow, but before she could reply, a shout made them all jump.
"KICK HER ASS, SWEETHEART!"
The entire crowd did a double-take upon seeing the heavily-pregnant woman standing at the top of the steps. Sakura's eyes were round as coins, even as her lips began to curve into a smile.
Ikeda, despite Aiki's rather crass exhortation, was mightily amused. Sakura went faintly pink at the sight of her grin. "Sorry about that!" She called out, tugging at her ponytail.
The Rikkai captain snorted, bouncing the ball again. "Mothers, I tell you." She replied, at which Sakura snickered and settled back into her position.
Nomura and Mikabi hurried to Aiki, who was visibly running out of patience with her fussing husband and nurse. Nomura sympathised with the man; five months pregnant couldn't possibly be this big, and yet here Aiki-san was. "How about you come and sit with us, Aiki-san?" She enquired politely. "It's a little more comfortable than the steps, and the view's better too."
It was easy for Mikabi to see where Sakura got her attitude; Aiki beamed and accepted at once 'as long as it wasn't any trouble'. Her husband dithered, but Aiki made no fuss about things, and her daughter had clearly inherited that particular trait. And the looks too.
By the time Aiki had been settled into the dugout, Sakura had lost another game. "Oh dear," Her mother tsked. "That child's very good indeed. No wonder Sakura's been so obsessed all week. When she's not studying or eating, she's lifting weights in her room or yoga in the garden or- oh, dear, is it another point to her again?"
"Kagawa- um, Sakura hasn't got a single point so far." Imako offered a little lamely. "But Ikeda's… well, she's the best." She cast an apologetic glance at Nomura, who nodded in agreement.
Aiki pursed her lips. "Well, I've never known my daughter to roll over and show her belly." She replied, eyes trained on the game. Sakura was back on serve, down 0-15 in the third game.
Breathe, she told herself, going over everything she'd seen and catalogued of Ikeda's play so far. It wasn't even the full tip of the iceberg, she knew, but she could work with this. Breathe.
You're going to win it all, Kagome's fierce voice bounced around her head.
I'm going to win it all.
Her next serve was off-path by exactly three centimetres.
Ikeda missed it completely. A swing and a miss.
A collective gasp rose from the spectators. Ikeda's own eyebrows shot up to her hairline.
Sakura didn't wait for the shock to settle. As soon as Ikeda, convinced it was a fluke, settled back into position, she served again. Banged it short, dragged her opponent in.
Ikeda was a net player, but she wasn't at the net per se. Mid-court was sometimes the very worst place to be.
Sakura chose the back corner. She loved back corners; they practically had little flags on them saying TARGET ME.
Ikeda was perfectly capable of catching up to that. As Sakura knew perfectly well.
She chose the other corner. Ikeda would catch up to that too.
Corner to corner. Ikeda was more than equal to this game.
Nomura let out a tiny laugh. "Kagawa, you little…" She shook her head, smirking.
At that very second, Sakura banged it short again. Very short. Viciously so.
Exactly as Ikeda had done. And like before, that shot couldn't be touched.
"30-15!"
Ikeda frowned, walking back to the baseline. Kagawa's last serve had been on target… exactly as it had been all tournament. The girl was really remarkably accurate. And consistent. Clearly the result of sheer, bloody-minded practice.
She settled back to her mark. A return ace would crush the girl before she had a chance to fight back.
And then Sakura dropped even her serve short. Low and slow and just… in.
"40-15!" What the fu-
"Game, Kagawa! 1 game to 2! Change court!"
"Oho," Yukimura's eyebrows mimicked Ikeda's own. "Looks like my counterpart has a challenge on her hands."
"No one's taken a game from Ikeda since last year's tournament." Yanagi examined his notes. He looked harder at Kagawa. What had he missed about her?
Sanada's mouth was a thin line. His face could have been a wall for all that Yukimura could tell.
"2 games to 1, Ikeda leads!" The referee called. "Ikeda to serve!"
Nomura had won her match 6-0. She'd given no quarter, hadn't allowed her opponent the tiniest breathing space.
Ikeda eyed Sakura over the net with a mixture of intrigue and irritation. Her perfect little record, ruined.
Such a pity. Kagawa Sakura could have had a bright career in tennis.
Sakura's hands shook. Loss didn't scare her, not anymore. Fainting and lectures and mangled body parts tended to have that effect.
What scared her was the sense of unrealism that permeated her reality. She was just a girl who played tennis and was pretty good at it.
Surely, surely the scoreboard wasn't saying what she thought it was.
'KAGAWA S- 3 GAMES
IKEDA K- 3 GAMES'
"Come on, Sakura!" Mikabi shouted, dancing a jig on top of a bench. Rin was giggling at her and applauding at the same time.
Kazumi was whooping, loud, over-the-top whoops that had her mother- her mother was watching her play, stars above- in splits. Papa was beaming, almost helpless with delight. His little girl, as good as the best.
And Nomura-buchou… Nomura-buchou was smirking. Like she'd known all along.
There aren't many players better than Kagawa can be. Nomura hadn't only been made captain for her on-court skills.
Dropping the banana peel into the bag, Sakura pressed her nose into her knees and closed her eyes. This was it, then. This is everything.
Ikeda knew she needed a new strategy. The problem was figuring out what.
She'd never played anyone quite like Kagawa before. Analytical players, yes, but those people had been more data-driven, numbers and such. Ikeda wasn't a genius, her game didn't defy logic. She was just better than them. But she had a feeling that wasn't going to stop Kagawa today. The girl was skilled alright, incredibly accurate, maddeningly consistent- but her mind. God, her mind.
How could someone think that fast? She was like a military tactician, the way she could adjust her tactics on the fly.
If I win this, I'm going to play Sanada and Yukimura every day for a month. Each. She thought, a little frantic.
Ikeda was not a strategist. She was an instinctual player- her tennis sense was, simply put, unbelievable. It bordered, some whispered, on unnatural. How could someone just read people like that?
Ikeda looked at Sakura and felt read.
Sakura caught her eye and smiled, albeit a little wearily. But it was an honest smile, not a smirk or a sneer. God, she was sincere. Dangerous, Ikeda thought, to be so open. It would be so easy to think her simple.
Ikeda had made that mistake and it had cost her three games. It might cost her her reputation.
It was Sakura's serve again. She'd been playing catch-up all match- 0-2, 1-2, 2-3- but at 3-3, the match stood on a knife-edge, and Sakura very much meant to tip it her way.
She had had the break to think. She didn't pause for thought now.
Every joint in her spine bent. The curve of her back was something out of a ballet.
How'm I looking, Kazumi-senpai?
Her serve sounded like the blast of a cannon.
Strong enough, Mikabi-chan?
"Oh, bloody hell…" Mikabi murmured.
The bounce was high, and sharp, and twisted. Ikeda only just managed to get out of the way.
How's that, Echizen?
"15-love!"
Sakura reveled in the whispers, the gasps. The Twist Serve was a high-level move, requiring immense control in order to generate the kind of spin it needed. In other words, exactly her kind of move.
"Well, well, well," Kazumi's laconic drawl was a stark contrast to her wide, shining eyes. "Looks like we've woken a sleeping tigress, Ayano-chan."
Mikabi smirked. "Look at Ikeda's face. She knows it too."
Aiki had tears in her eyes. Her little girl. Her Sakura. Toe to toe with someone she'd idolized for years; cheered by the crowd, championed by her captain. Daisuke rubbed her shoulders comfortingly, but he was just as overwhelmed by the spectacle of their daughter as she was. The only reason he wasn't crying from it was because he didn't have pregnancy hormones.
"30-love!"
"Holy fuckin' hell." Kirihara breathed, eyes very wide. "Panda-chan's… she's… Ikeda-senpai-"
Use your words, brat, Niou wanted to say, but that would've been a waste of time and air. It wasn't like he had any words for it either.
But Ikeda wasn't called the best for nothing. The next serve was a Twist just as vicious as the last, but she'd taken its measure; stepping aside, she whipped a full-blooded return that drew applause from even the Seigaku crowd.
Sakura's teeth bared in a grin. (Darling, you're a lightning storm made flesh and skin-)
Dropped short. Ikeda at the baseline. Sakura at the net. An unpredicted role-reversal. "40-love!"
Ikeda's own grin was a sharp, wild thing. She took back two points- two high-octane rallies ending with winners so blistering that Sakura couldn't even put a racquet to them. She applauded them, though; just as Ikeda applauded her when she slammed a winner back and took the point.
Ikeda was going to go pro. Tennis had never lost its allure for her, even if she'd had easy victories almost all her life. But something had dulled over time, some spark that only Nomura Ayano had been able to blow aflame. Not anymore.
What was it about Seigaku, she wondered, that they churned out people more comet than human?
She could smell her own sweat, and it was heady. Across the net, Kagawa Sakura landed a ball at the outer edge of the singles court line, and took another game. Her blood ran hot.
"Game, Kagawa! 5 games to 3! Change court!"
The crowd was going wild. One more game. One more game and Sakura would take the match, take the championship, take down the legend.
No one had come this close since The Match. Nomura's hands were tight around her racquet, and her eyes… her eyes were molten, and the smile on her lips was small and proud and fierce.
(Your blood is gold and mercury-)
One more game. Sakura to serve.
And then-
And then-
Sakura slipped.
Only a second, and she got to the ball, but her timing was off and the return was messy and-
"Love-15!"
Imako eyed the rivulets of sweat running down her legs, and bit her lip.
"15-all!"
Kazumi knew the exhaustion that comes with using every muscle in your body and your brain to boot. She silently mixed up another 1 litre bottle of glucose.
"30-15!"
Or maybe Sakura could do this, maybe they wouldn't need-
"30-all!"
Sanada felt the echoing hurt that the phone call had brought, but his eyes softened in sympathy. He remembered what it was to be here, and then to founder.
"30-40!"
Ikeda was holding on, sinking her teeth and nails back into this match and Mikabi hated it-
"Game, Ikeda! 4 games to 5! Change court!"
To break Ikeda once was a miracle. To do it twice was greatness.
Sakura had to do it thrice.
And she couldn't.
"Game, Ikeda! 5 games all! Change court!"
Sakura's knees shook as she lowered herself onto the bench beside Ryuuzaki-sensei. The coach said nothing. She handed her Kazumi's freshly-prepared bottle, and laid a hand on her shoulder.
Sakura said nothing. She drank the glucose and scarfed down a banana. Her head lolled back on her shoulders and she just breathed.
Life is funny; it all gets a bit too much sometimes. Sakura prized control above all things. She would never let her life slip out of her control again.
Still, there were things she could control and things she couldn't. She could control her game. She couldn't control Ikeda's. Not unless she controlled herself first.
And so, she breathed. She could hear her mother call her, gentle and loving and oh, Sakura was glad her mother was here. But she was here to watch. Sakura was here to play.
So she didn't look back; she dropped the banana peel into the waste bag and dabbed at the sweat on her neck and face and arms; she took another sip of glucose and decided to thank Kazumi-senpai. Later.
She picked up her racquet and stepped back onto the court. There were two ways to win from here, and Sakura knew which one she was capable of.
"Kagawa to serve!"
She centred her weight, her mind. This was the game that mattered. Nothing else.
(You belong to that night sky-)
"She's not done yet." Niou smirked, as the girl pulled out another heart-stopping ace.
Sanada eyed her detached, almost eerie expression. No, she certainly wasn't.
He wondered how it was possible to be inspired and annoyed by a single person at the same time.
On the court, Sakura had put another stinging ground volley past Ikeda. She was playing hell-for-leather now; it would be called reckless in any other player. But Sakura had always landed balls on the paint. On the outer edge of the paint. She had always flirted with the doubles court in singles matches.
Ikeda managed to pull back, but anyone could tell that she was rattled, even at this stage. Sakura's intensity bled out of every pore, from each purposeful, no-holds-barred crosscourt return, every coy drop shot. If Ikeda had had the time to think, she would have been intensely, profoundly irritated.
Instead, there was only the rush of adrenaline, of exhilaration; the cold, seductive thrill of I could lose. I could lose.
(To scientists, trying to figure you out-)
Sakura wouldn't give, like a wire so strong it wouldn't break, like a woman's spine in a world built of men, by men, for men. And Ikeda would never stop fighting, like an eel, a battering ram, like a woman's teeth in a world that doesn't expect her to snap back, to bite down and hold.
Immoveable object, meet unstoppable force.
Nomura's fingers were curled into Sakura's discarded jacket. The curl of her lips was a thing of savage triumph.
Sakura grunted as she served, 40-30. A slice, flatter and harder and faster than anything she had ever thrown at her opponent. And it was returned. Not easily, not without a grunt in return, but it came sizzling back, forcing her to slam a two-handed backhand with an inarticulate yell.
One more point, and she could rest. For a while. One more.
She charged up to the net.
"What is she fucking doing?" Mikabi breathed.
Ikeda lobbed, but the force of the backhand rendered it a little too weak; Sakura only had to retreat a few steps to the centre of the court. Ikeda groaned, actually groaned, as Sakura sent a blazing drive volley to the opposite corner from her.
(And failing-)
"Game, Kagawa! 6 games to 5! Change court!"
One more game, Mikabi thought wildly. One more game and this was over, this was won. Sakura.
"She's somethin' special, isn't she?" The sudden drawl from behind her made Mikabi start. "FUCK!" She yelped, almost upsetting Reiko's bottle arrangement and Kazumi's kit. "Oops." Akitaka Mei smirked at her, insolent and unapologetic. "But she is."
Mikabi tamped down her irritation. "Yeah." She nodded, glancing towards a curious Kazumi. "She really is."
"Heard you won your match too." Akitaka turned fully to her; Mikabi hummed, keeping her eyes on the court. There wasn't much to see, with both players sipping on their respective energy concoctions, but it was better than giving this uninvited guest her full attention.
(The fact that she might not be able to look away if she looked at Mei was ruthlessly beaten out of mind)
"Wish I could've seen tha'," Akitaka persisted, trying to get Mikabi to look at her, at least. She wasn't asking for much, was she? "But congra's. Bet you were spectacular."
Oh. Oh. She could feel the warmth rising to her cheeks- that was ridiculous. It wasn't even the nicest compliment Mikabi had ever gotten, so why was she blushing like a fucking freshman faced with a senior? God, this was embarrassing.
She was ever so grateful when the players stepped back onto the court. Less so when Akitaka perched herself on the nearest stone steps and began to cheer for Sakura.
"I almost wish she was my type," She confided to Mikabi, who pursed her lips. "And, y'know, into girls."
Later, Mikabi swore she hadn't meant to agree. "Yeah," She nodded, turning her head to grin at the Hyotei girl. "I know the feeling."
Mei grinned. "Looks like we can agree on something."
Mikabi snorted. "Weird thing, but yeah. Sure. Now can it, Akitaka, I want to watch."
She wasn't sure she'd been meant to hear the soft So do I, so she kept silent, even as her face flamed. Again.
Sakura knew her limits, and she knew how far she could push them. So when she took the court again, she knew what the plan was.
"What's with her?" Imako's brow furrowed. "It's like she's gone off the boil after the last game."
Nomura chewed her lip, but it was Kazumi who answered. "She doesn't need to win this one." She kept her eyes on the girl. "Sakura-chan knows herself pretty well. I think she knows she can't keep the same momentum going during this last game, especially with Ikeda playing all-out. She just doesn't have the stamina."
Imako blinked. "So she's… what, pushing for a tie-break?" She shook her head, incredulous. "Against Ikeda? That's insane."
"I think she's counting on holding her serves and breaking Ikeda at least once. Rather than break her in a service game, she's hoping that the alternating serves in the tie-break will work in her favour. It's risky," Kazumi allowed. "But it's not a bad plan, per se. At least then she'll have serves to leverage, even if she has to get seven points instead of four."
Imako was unconvinced. "It's too risky."
Kazumi shrugged. "Well, she's backing herself."
Winning this game would involve scoring four points off Ikeda's serve. Losing would mean Sakura would have her own serves to score off of. It wasn't that bad of a plan. A huge gamble, sure, but that was this whole match. On the whole, Kazumi rather liked Sakura's chances in a tie-break.
"Game, Ikeda! 6 games all! 12-point tiebreak!"
Niou whistled, long and low. "Ikeda in a tiebreak. Never thought I'd see the day."
Sakura had the first serve. "1-0!" Came the call, as a warbling slow'un bounced just inside the service court.
Ikeda took the next one. "1 all!"
"1-2!"
"2-all!"
The entire arena held its breath as Sakura lined up for her next serve. Nomura's hand clenched around Kazumi's.
Down the centre… and out wide, Sakura thought, tossing the ball high. A grunt sounded as she brought the racquet down.
"Miss Ikeda is challenging the call- ball was called IN." The referee announced. Ikeda raised her eyebrows at Sakura, who frowned. Mei and Mikabi, as one, narrowed their eyes.
But then- "Out! Score is 2-3- Ikeda to serve!"
Sakura was vaguely aware of the Rikkai cheers, and Ikeda walking back to her baseline to serve. My serve was out, she thought, the thought a cold pinprick behind her eyes. Out. That… that's never happened here. I- I don't- what?
And then: focus. You can find the error and fix it later. Right now, focus.
"It's not over yet." Nomura murmured, a little shaken by the unprecedented fault, but trusting Sakura to keep her cool. "She won't fall apart because of one mistake."
Mikabi hummed. "She's come a long way."
There was still a match to win, Sakura thought fiercely. It was a mistake. That's all.
That was a bad point. Not a bad match.
Ikeda was keeping her serve- not with ease, but she was keeping it. "2-5! Kagawa to serve!" The referee called.
Sakura grit her teeth as she bounced the ball. I can still do this. She glanced behind, to her mother. I'm going to do this.
One bad shot didn't mean she didn't have the surest arm in the tournament. "3-5!"
"4-5!" Seigaku cheers almost drowned out the referee. Momoshiro and Mikabi whistled: loud, vulgar and triumphant.
The evening light caught the wet streaks below Ikeda's temples. Japan's best bounced the ball, determined to keep her serve, her momentum, and the lead.
Everything in Sakura came together- every piece of information she had gleaned over the game. And when the ball cannoned down the centre, she took a deep breath and stepped in.
The return ace nearly took the skin off Ikeda's ankle. She stumbled.
A beat of silence- the referee checked the bounce, but it was legit. No one had seen it, that was all. "5 all!" He declared, half a beat before the cheers of the Seigaku supporters nearly brought the sky crashing down.
Ikeda examined her ankle- no blood, just a mild rawness under the sock. She shook her head, rueful and grateful and filled with renewed purpose. More comet than person, indeed. Kagawa looked almost spent, poor kid; the match wasn't over, but she was on the ground, head in her arms, measuring her breaths. The tie-break was poised at 5 all. The first to reach seven points would win.
She bounced the ball again and again, taking her time. Two more points. She could keep this serve. She could.
Her ace was a thing of beauty, of sheer, raw power. Sakura didn't even get the chance to move. "6-5! Kagawa to serve!"
Two more points… both off my serve. I can still do this. Sakura squeezed the ball until her knuckles whitened. I can do this.
Her brain felt like mush. Two more points. Sweat ran down her body in streams. Her breath came short and fast. She was so, so close to victory, or defeat, or collapse.
No one cheered; no one made a sound. As though she and Ikeda were the only two who breathed.
Sakura threw the ball skywards.
Loooooool. Come scream at me. I'm tired.
Cheers,
Chilli.