Beep.
Sakuno groaned slightly as she tried to open her heavy eyelids under her layers of blankets – it was a painfully slow process. Gradually, the blur of pink in front of her widened to a quarter of her normal vision, then a third…
Beep, Beep,
... Two thirds…
Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep,
…Three quarters, four-fifths…
Beeeeeeeeeeep--
Her eyes flew fully open at the shrill noise which bounced off her bedroom walls like a thousand rubber bands, and the furry lining of her duvet came into sharp focus.
"…Oh for heaven's sa-" Reaching out to slap the alarm clock off, Sakuno choked on the rest of her sentence as her foggy eyes caught sight of the small upright calendar on her desk – and the freshly scribbled note on one of the days complete with a tiny love heart in the corner. With a start, her thoughts cleared with a wave of horrified realization. Realization that the note was, in fact, written in today's box, which was soon followed by a flood of memory of the previous day's events. With an amazing efficiency that surprised even herself, Sakuno scrambled out of bed, wrenched open her wardrobe door, and began racking through her entire collection of skirts and dresses.
The room was silent apart from the occasional flopping noises as item after item of clothing were thrown onto the ground with a hopeless grimace. Gradually, an impressive collection of dresses and shirts formed around Sakuno in the shape of a wrinkly crescent moon.
After frolicking through the selected pile floral fabric, Sakuno finally narrowed her choices down to a pale lavender skirt and a striking sapphire-blue top with a sort of heart-shaped pattern laced into the silky material. Feeling slightly less nervous but still a little unsteady, she trotted downstairs to make herself a nice steaming mug of hot chocolate – which was, of course, known to be the best way to sooth those fluttering nerves at the pit of one's stomach.
As she waited for the marshmallow to melt, Sakuno slowly stirred the rich liquid with a continuous rotating movement with her wrist. She stirred until the bobbing object dissolved into a white puddle over the chocolate, until the steam of the drink had evaporated to a wisp of gas spiraling up toward her face. Finally - as the dark swirls turned into thick blobs of creaminess - she stopped and took a small sip.
It was a beautiful morning. The house was silent yet outside the sparrows were chirping away with their merry little tunes. There were clouds drifting in the background of crystal blue – coloured a shimmering silver by the golden threads from the sun – yet just enough to provide wisps of shadow which brought out the brilliant radiant warmth of sunlight. As Sakuno was enjoying the moment of peace, a grey bird fluttered in through the open window and landed on the window sill. Opening its pale yellow beak, a tiny series of trills poured out from deep within its throat – Sakuno smiled as she watched its soft feathers tremble from the feeble vibratos.
The clock out in the hallway struck nine – it was probably still too early for him to come.
Yet she pressed the warm mug against her chest so that the heat could comfort the fluttering feeling within her ribs. It was a familiar feeling – this nervousness – yet there was somehow a slight difference between now and four years ago… this was a better sensation – exciting, anticipating for something good, knowing that that person would bear the same feeling…
"…Do you always space out like that? Or it's just whenever I happen to see you?"
The razor-sharp voice, shooting out of nowhere, sliced through her thoughts as smooth as if it was a knife piercing the layers of icing on a fruit cake. She looked up at the tall figure which had been leaning against the kitchen doorframe for - God knows how long - and paled at the sight of Ryoma looking back at her with that familiar cool smirk.
And then followed the familiar blankness. As they eyed each other in absolute silence – as if someone had hit the pause button on a remote and frozen them in a still-frame. Time could have stopped – if they couldn't hear each other's breathing, their rhythmic, but strangely out of phase, inhalation and exhalation of air. This awkward part has obviously not changed much since four years ago.
And, like most of the times before, it was she who broke the silence – an act which once earned his criticism of "talking too much" – yet continued to save the pair from staring at each other on several occasions. This time, unfortunately being one of her worst attempts, her voice came out as a high-pitched squeak.
"Gosh, Ryoma-kun!! How long have you been standing there for!?"
He shrugged casually, "Only a few minutes."
"A-A few minutes!?" She exclaimed in disbelief. To her it did not seem any different than had he been there for ten days."How on earth did you get in?"
"How else can you get in?" He gestured toward the entrance hallway with a hint of amusement in his tone.
And then she suddenly remembered the brief moment of puzzlement which crossed her mind as she was coming down the stairs - as she noted the front door was slightly ajar, and not bothering to close it as she was too preoccupied with thoughts of her visitor. Besides, she thought it was probably not of great importance since her grandma often did so to let some air into the house. But of course she wasn't about to admit that.
"…Well, the custom is to knock before coming into other people's house."
"That only applies for closed doors." He retorted solemnly, yet his eyes lit up with a victorious flicker, which Sakuno tried to ignore but knew she had failed from the heat radiating out from below her skin.
Sighing, she soon gave up trying to argue with him, for she knew very well she was no match against his sharp tongue – which has become just as famous as his tennis skills. Instead, she went out to close the front door before any more "unexpected guests" could come in. Although he probably shouldn't be categorized under "unexpected" since she did have a fuzzy memory of him telling her about it last night…despite the shameful fact that she had forgotten completely about it until three minutes ago. Oh well, it's not like Ryoma was coming to see her anyway.
"Ryoma!"
The silence was interrupted once again when Ryuzaki Sumire entered the kitchen with an empty coffee mug in one hand and the morning papers in the other. With a somewhat masculine movement, she dropped the mug into the sink and turned to smile at the pair of adolescents standing in her kitchen – one with a rather guilty expression on her face, and the other with an expression somewhere between triumph and smugness.
"Why are you in my house, Ryoma?" There was a sly glint in her eyes as she eyed her former student with feigned suspicion.
"… I'm hungry."
Sakuno could feel her mouth twitching but fought to keep her face straight. The last thing she wanted now was to give him that satisfaction.
"……Huh, so - our house is the equivalent of your pantry?" Sumire could feel the blood pulsing in her temples.
"Pretty much, I know you have Japanese-style breakfast-" He was halfway in his confirmation when he found his former coach's snapping fingers inches from his cheeks. He was just about to jump back in alarm, but the elder woman was well familiarized with his quick reflexes and had pinched a piece of flesh between her fingers before he could be given the chance. It was a split-second difference, and ten seconds of torture.
Never underestimate old ladies. It has been so long since Junior High that Ryoma had almost forgotten that.
How could he have forgotten? It had been among the ten golden rules stuck on the walls of the male changing room – along with others such as "Never mention food in front of Momoshiro" and "Never ask Inui for water"… things Ryoma thought he would never ever rid his mind of.
But clearly he did – and now he knew what a terrifying mistake that was, and he swore he would never let it slip from his mind again; for her laugh after seeing the pain and hatred in his eyes was far, far beyond evil. Her fingers tightened and performed a higher level of the renowned "Ryuzaki Punishment" on the boy who had so often experienced it in his "Ochibi" days (not that he isn't still Ochibi now…once Kikumaru Eiji's mind has been set, it has been set). Then, as if softened by the sight of Sakuno's worried face (she was trying very hard to hide it, of course), the old coach loosened her grip with another chuckle.
"...Ow." Ryoma rubbed his red swollen cheek with his hand. The coolness had been partially replaced by red-hot frustration. "What was that for!?"
"You still have lots more to work on," Sumire imitated Ryoma's tone and earned the return of his positively icy glare, to which she smirked and ignored.
"Ryoma-kun - Are you alright??" Sakuno hurried over and insisted for him to remove his hand so that she could examine the raw spot. Sumire shook her head at her granddaughter's concern and smiled secretly to herself. She certainly has no acting talents whatsoever.
"Don't worry about him, Sakuno. If he has withstood getting half his eyelid sliced off then this little bit of pain would be nothing in comparison…right?" she said and smiled at Ryoma slyly.
But her glee was interrupted by a series of light chirps. With a jolt of nervousness, Sakuno recognized the sound as that of the doorbell.
"I-I'll get it," Sakuno was horrified when she heard her old stutters reemerging, and took a deep breath before stepping out into the entrance hall… just as she thought she heard her grandmother starting a lecture about manners and something like "see? That was called a doorbell…".
As if that's going to work. She chuckled silently as she pictured the bored expression on Ryoma's face right now.
"Hey Ryuzaki!" Akito's smile lifted her mood even more after she had answered the door. The teen was wearing jeans and a black sweatshirt, his hazel hair severely tangled together from the wind despite his obvious attempt at smoothing it with his hand. The usual warmth flowed from his eyes and trailed over her face, making her nerves tingle with self-consciousness.
"C-Come on in!" She smiled back and stepped back to make room for him to squeeze by. "Um…well, actually a friend of mine has also decided to drop by…"
She thought she saw a wrinkle appear in between his brows – but it must have been her imagination since it vanished almost immediately.
"…Really? That's great! You can introduce me to her…or him." He added hesitantly as she showed him into the living room and his eyes caught sight of Ryoma and Sumire in the interlinked kitchen. At their entry into the room, the two had stopped abruptly from an argument about the importance of modesty and was eyeing Akito with an instinctive dislike - well, at least the younger one was.
"Ah, you… you were the guy who helped me last night in the Café! Weren't you?? To knock down that lunatic?" Akito's eyes widened in recognition and he smiled, warmly, at the younger boy.
Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "And you were the guy who needed my help, weren't you?" His tone was frosty.
Akito's smile faded at the suggestive remark. An awkward silence followed – the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped ten degrees within an instant.
"…Hmm. Let me do a better introduction, eh?" Ryuzaki Sumire laughed dryly and discreetly gave Ryoma a hard squeeze in the back as a warning. "Ryoma, this is Tezuka Akito, the Head Waiter at Sakuno's work. Akito, this is Echizen Ryoma, the most arrogant little brat Seigaku has ever had."
"That last line was quite unnecessary-" He paused. The prodigy's eyes narrowed. "Tezuka?"
"Heh, that's right… He's Tezuka Kunimitsu's cousin." Sumire smiled at the Prince's shocked expression - which any other normal person would interpret as an expression of blankness.
That explains why Buchou chose that café for the reunion… Ryoma's facial muscle twitched in disgust as he glared at the young man standing a few meters away. Never mind... at least I have an excuse for hating him now...
"Small world, isn't it?" Sakuno smiled cheerfully at the two boys in turn, completely and utterly unaware of Ryoma's unusually emotional face.
Akito smiled a little and walked up to Sumire to offer her a bag containing a box of Japanese Snacks. "I apologize for intruding in your house on this peaceful morning. Please accept this humble gift, Ryuzaki-sensei." His voice was sincere and firm, a helpful tool which lifts the listener's spirits for no reason - often used in "taming" grumpy customers.
"Nothing less from Tezuka's cousin! What wonderful manners…unlike someone-" Accepting the gift with a grateful nod, the elderly woman glanced at Ryoma with a small suggestive grin playing on her lips. "-who doesn't ring the doorbell or knock, but walks right in the front door requesting - sorry, demanding - for food!"
"Che." Ryoma looked away, obviously irritated. "It's your fault for not shutting the door properly."
"Ooh, so every time I want some fresh air in the house I'd have to deal with you, do I?"
"Well, if you want I can bring my cat along-"
Sumire reached out to give his cheek another hard squeeze, but Ryoma was quicker - this time he ducked just in time and her hand grabbed nothing but thin air.
Sakuno was surprised to see a slightly impressed smile as her grandma withdrew her hand. Although she knew her grandma was never going to admit that she was proud of his quickness in learning from his mistakes – which was no doubt a result of her tight training programs.
"Ryoma, you should learn to be more like Akito…at least manner-wise anyway."
Ryoma snorted and went to sit down at the lush leather couch without invitation. "Maybe if you gave me a years' supply of Ponta, I'll consider it."
"I don't know about a year's supply, but one I can quite easily manage." A freshly chilled can of Grape Ponta appeared in front of his face, so close he could feel the sheet freezing vapors drifting out over his nose. He swept the can from Sakuno's fingers and smirked up at her.
"Then the deal's off."
--
The effects of the boy's words were amazing. Akito had never seen a girl's face deepen into such a beautiful shade of scarlet in such a short time. Although she recovered from the after-effects of the Prince's infamous smirk almost just as quickly, her smile at Akito was still a bit absent-minded. This Akito noted with a somewhat tingly sense of annoyance. But his trained amiable personality kept his smile steady as his eyes silently studied Ryoma in detail.
He had heard of him from his cousin before this encounter.
The proud arrogant tennis prodigy who shocked the Japan Junior High Tennis Society in his first year back from America.
The cold, solemn, but undoubtedly good-looking boy who erupts a love storm wherever he went.
The "pillar of support" for Seigaku Jr. High Boys Tennis Club who gained the trust and support of his own cousin with his outstanding performance in tennis matches.
Now as he looked at the famous boy sitting across from him on the leather sofa, he could understand how all the descriptions fitted in. But…
"Would you like to have anything to drink, Akito-kun?" A crisp voice dragged him out of his thoughts.
"Oh, anything will be fine." He softened his trademark smile and gazed after the girl as she clumsily stumbled into the kitchen and hooked out a glass from deep within a cupboard. She must have used too much force, for it shot over the edge and landed onto the counter with a loud crash. It was unbroken though – a miracle.
"Quite clumsy at home, too. I see." Akito laughed aloud.
Blushing furiously, she lowered her head and filled the glass with iced cranberry juice.
"After having been like that for four years-" A cold voice interrupted, accompanied with a flicker of golden eyes. "Somehow I don't think it's going to change now."
"Really? But she is normally very efficient in my café." Akito replied with an easy smile, but his eyes seemed to have hardened a fraction.
After hearing their comments of her, Sakuno really didn't know whether she should be happy or not.
Sumire chuckled at the evident rivalry between the two boys and shook her head, quite fascinated.
Ryoma's got a match there. But I wonder if it's because Akito is Tezuka's cousin… or is it…?
"Ryoma-kun… you came by today to see Grandma, right? In that case, Akito and I will go upstairs…" Sakuno suggested brightly - completely unaware of the mixture of emotions which flashed through the three faces in front of her.
There was a twinkle of amusement in Sumire's eyes, a flicker of irritation in Ryoma's, and an instant of relief in Akito's.
Ryoma did his best to disguise this, however, for he was a man – and men don't admit their frustration in the face of their rival. Instead, he shot a meaningful glance at his old coach – who only pursed her lips and seemed to be sneering at him with a "this is what you get for using me as an excuse" glint in her eyes. He narrowed his eyes... should have known that old hag wasn't so easy to deal with. He was, however, not one to give up so quickly in competitions of any kind... especially this one.
"Wait, I thought you wanted me to come and give her tennis lessons today?" He directed the question at his ex-coach and pointed to Sakuno, who also turned her eyes onto her grandmother in surprise.
"Did I?" Sumire grinned, her faded hazel eyes sparkled with an impressed fascination. For indeed - this was a one-way question; if she answered yes - Sakuno was going with him for a lesson, and if she answered otherwise...
"Oh, so you called me all the way here for nothing?" Ryoma gave her a cold glare. "I do have better things to do, you know."
"...Aah I do apologize, Ryoma... I guess my memory has been failing me these days," Sumire laughed and turned towards her puzzled granddaughter. "Guess it'll be unkind of us not to at least treat him as a guest, after he has come all the way for nothing."
Sakuno stared at her grandmother in disbelief. Yet she was so overwhelmed with a strange mixture of excitement, relief, and disappointment that she was almost too weak to speak.
"Oh, and sorry Sakuno… I forgot to tell you that I'm also going to go out this morning – I promised a match with Mrs. Mizuno... gosh my memory has indeed been hopeless recently!" Sumire gently massaged her temples with her fingers as she heaved an extremely exaggerated sigh.
"Eh?? But you never told me-" Sakuno choked.
"I just forgot to tell you, that's all." Sumire smiled apologetically and made her way towards the door.
Sakuno gulped and hurriedly eyed Ryoma, then back to her grandmother again, "But I thought he's talking to you about his da-"
"It was my dad who forced me to come," Ryoma interrupted calmly. "Did you actually think I wanted to come?"
"...I'll be at the tennis court just around the block if you need me." She winked at her speechless granddaughter and made her way to the hallway, not forgetting to lower her head and murmur "Nice work" as she strolled past Ryoma. In return, he flashed her a charming smirk - to which she only sighed and gave him a warning glance - don't overdo it. Then, smiling knowingly, she left the rest to her granddaughter.
A full minute passed as silence reigned the living room; it was a silence which bore different meanings for each individual that sat through it, yet one thing was for sure - it was very far from a companiable silence. In fact, there was such an accumulation of fiery sparks in the room the carpet almost caught on fire. This was, however, always oblivious to the person who was actually the reason for such a situation.
"So," Sakuno set down the glass of juice in front of Akito carefully, the ice clinked lightly with the glass rims. "How are you both?"
"…Shouldn't you be more concerned about yourself, Ryuzaki? Does your cheek still hurt?" Akito inquired worriedly, and Sakuno thought she saw Ryoma rolling his eyes out of the corner of her eye.
"Er-" She began but was cut off almost at the same moment by Ryoma's cool voice.
"You know, you should answer her question first. That's manners." Obviously the whole talk about being polite had annoyed him more than she realized.
"R-Ryoma-kun, I really don't mind-"
"Well, it was rude of you to cut her off like that." Akito shot back.
"What were you trying to say to me, Ryuzaki? I think someone interrupted you." Ryoma raised his voice purposefully and flashed the other boy a cold smirk.
An awkward silence fell upon the living room again.
Sakuno sighed, lost for words as she attempted to interpret the situation.
What's going on? Why are they acting like this? Neither is like their normal self – well, maybe Ryoma-kun is…Her eyes flickered up to the boy with tousled green hair and silent fire smoldering within his sharp feline eyes. Although even he seems a little…over the top today.
"Uh-I'm fine, Akito-kun…" She smiled tensely at the other boy. "My cheek is healing already. Thank you."
Relieved, Akito smiled back and gracefully lifted the glass of juice up to his lips.
Ryoma's face frosted over with a dark irritation.
Akito's smile only brightened. "So, I've heard about your tennis skills from Kunimitsu-san." Despite his abnormally intense dislike for the other boy, he decided to make an effort at striking up a conversation for the sake of the hostess.
"…So?" The younger boy's eyes wandered around the room, not really listening to what Akito was saying.
Akito noted this with a challenging smile. "I may not look like it, but I play tennis as well."
The golden eyes paused. Slowly, they slid back to focus on Akito.
"…Are you challenging me?" His eyes were lit by a threatening glow.
Oh no. This was what Sakuno dreaded. These two playing a match? We'll be there forever…Her mouth grew oddly dry. But the biggest shock was what Akito said in response.
"Oh I'd never mean to do that… but yeah, if it's a match you want I'd love to accompany you anytime - that is, if I hadn't sprung my wrist." With an apologetic smile, he slowly pulled the sleeve of her jersey up to reveal a bandage around his right hand. A tiny gasp escaped Sakuno's lips as she reached out to touch his arm.
"You never told me…!! Was it from yesterday's…?" Her words were dripping with worry.
Akito smiled tenderly and patted the top of her head with his left hand. "It's okay… it doesn't hurt."
Ryoma felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest as he watched the pair… a rush of anger shot up to his brain and shattered his coldness.
"…If you're just scared then you could have just said so," Ryoma said through gritted teeth.
"Ryoma-kun!" Sakuno exclaimed in disbelief. "How can you doubt him like that-" But she was soon stopped by a hand on her arm as it gently but firmly pushed back her words.
"You don't believe me?" His lips curved into a smile – he knew he had somewhat gained the upper hand in this situation, judging from the concerned look on the face of the girl next to her. "I guess I have no choice but to agree to this match then."
Sakuno was speechless. "But – Akito-kun, you can't possibly – what if-?"
Akito gulped down the last mouthful of juice and placed it gently back on the table. With a wider smile, he glanced at Ryoma with a challenging life of his eyebrows. "Are you coming?"
Ryoma's eyes sparked with anger and he, too, drained the remaining liquid in his can of Ponta. Yet in his extreme desire for victory – his usually sharp hawk-like eyes failed to catch the thoughtful glint in Akito's eyes, or the flash of cunningness behind his warm smile.
--
The winter sun drifted down over the tennis courts, filtered by the thin silver clouds, like diluted maple syrup. Its gentle heat simmered the concrete – giving it a shimmering gold trim like oil seeping out of a sizzling sausage on a barbecue. There was hardly a breeze in the air – yet Sakuno felt frozen with dread. Sitting on one of the sideline benches, she bit her lip and repressed an urge to scream at the top of her lungs in protest about the absurdity of the situation.
In front of her were two young men.
One of them was smirking slightly, a fluorescent ball swiveling on his outstretched tennis racquet as he adjusted his white cap with the hand not holding the racquet so that the bill sat comfortably over his glowing honey-coloured eyes. Under the weak sunlight his beautiful muscular physique shone like a bronze statue - with the shadows on his legs showing off the dense streaks he had keenly trained.
The other was standing silently on the other side of the net, with a light smile playing on his lips and a challenging hazel glimmer beneath his brows. The shadow of the back wall of the tennis court shaded his body – yet his slim legs contained a sportsman's beauty which rivaled that of his opponent.
Both of them were brimming with confidence, however – a confidence which stated that they would rather persist until death than accept defeat.
They were so different – yet so similar.
"Anytime, Ryoma-kun," Akito said.
Ryoma's eyebrows twitched. "Don't call me that."
"Why not? I'm older than you."
"…" Ryoma gritted his teeth and bounced the ball, seeking comfort in the familiar rhythmic beats.
"Because you'll regret being older than me."
It was a perfect twist serve. Unpredictable, lightning-fast, and immensely powerful – it whizzed past Akito's ear with an angry buzz. Yet Akito only grinned.
"Nice! No wonder Kunimitsu-san was so impressed."
Ryoma had to suppress an urge to scowl at the sight of his dazzling smile.
The next twist serve was, as expected, angrier than the first. Akito's lips twitched. How easily-provoked he was… the sense of immaturity which Akito had sensed upon talking to him had not been his imagination after all..
Akito reached out and took the serve – the power was far beyond what his wrist could take. He fell to the ground in pain, kneeling beside his racquet which had flown out of his hand. He tightly held his bandaged right wrist with his left hand – he could feel the bursts of pain pulsing within the white gauze like oscillating electricity. There was a period of silence, and there she came – as he had anticipated.
"Akito-kun!! Oh my God, are you…" Sakuno kneeled down beside him and touched his shoulder. "Can you hear me, Akito-kun? Are you okay?"
He grimaced but nodded, then made an act to gently push her aside so as to continue the match.
"Wha- Akito-kun!! You're not thinking that you can play like this??" Sakuno took hold of his sleeve and half-dragged him to the benches, where he could see her grandmother waiting – wait, why is she there?? …Oh, she had a match with her friend…that's right…
She looked equally worried, yet less frantic than her granddaughter. Reaching for his hand, Ryuzaki-sensei lightly pressed the swollen area to check that his bones were not fractured.
"No fractures, but it would be best to check again at the hospital. I can drive you."
"But I can walk myself…"
"Akito-kun!" He was slightly taken back by the angry look in the Sakuno's eyes, her hand was still clutching his sleeve – and it was trembling.
"……All right. Thank you."
With a nod, Sumire acknowledged his gratitude and gestured for him and Sakuno to follow her.
Yet before they left the courts, he saw Sakuno turn back towards the lonely figure frozen by the net – half-way in an act to jump over the net to the other side, at the realization at Sakuno's approach, he withdrew to a standing position, the smirk was no longer visible – instead his expression was solemn and even a little alarmed.
"…you - how could you, Ryoma-kun…" Sakuno's voice shook as she said in a hoarse whisper. "You knew he was injured, you knew how much his hand means to him, and yet you used the twist serve! With full strength!! Do you want to win that much? Well, now are you happy? Now that you have won and he can't work anymore?"
She took a deep breath to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. Ryoma's expression remained unreadable as he listened to her outburst. Silently, he accepted her accusations, and for the first time in his life – the thought of a comeback did not even occur to him.
Without a second glance at the silent figure, Sakuno walked back towards Akito, who thought he caught a glimpse of a trail of moisture on her cheek, yet before he had a chance to look properly she had ran past him.
In the end, she took neither side.
A bitter smile formed on Akito's lips. His wrist was still pulsating as if it had a life of its own, and with each thud a jab of sharp heat shot through his bones – he could no longer feel his fingers as they dangled uselessly at his side like five woodblocks. Perhaps… he was the one who was being childish. Perhaps he was the one who had underestimated his opponent.
Well, if he hadn't underestimated him he would have had to fake the cold sweat anyway... yet the pain was real, that was the only flaw in his plan.