I'm so sorry for taking so long to publish this chapter. I'm so proud of myself for finally publishing. School has started, and I've recently become addicted to other animes and mangas. I had originally planed a sequel for this series, but I doubt I'll ever write it, because our beloved series is coming to an end (at least the manga anyway.) The anime's still continuing with a third OVA series, with an additional Chinese live-action drama series, but I still only consider the manga canon. Forgive me if it's a crappy ending, but the manga's ending isn't going to be so bright either...

Chapter 23: The Ephemeral Fad

She sighed. It was not a sigh of defeat or exasperation. It was an expression of self-pity. She knew that she should not complain about her life given to her, and she knew that there were even no one could change. But once again, in a swirl of déjà vu, she had been let down again.

'I disappointed them the first time. What more can I expect from Fukushi?' There were simply things that were beyond her control and she knew it well. 'Perhaps it's a relief. We won't be mutilated by Rikkaidai Fuzoku now. Maybe they have a very good reason. Like getting in a car crash.' She licked her lips at visualizing Fukushi's face cowering in regret. 'Or being attacked by terrorists.'

She sat down in her green Ginka jacket on the bench to procrastinate watching Seigaku's match against Hyotei. There they appeared, passing like a group of celebrities. Each wore the yellow-brown jackets of Rikkaidai Fuzoku on their backs with an indefinable air of achievement. Their stride reflected hints of reserved disdain and superiority; their movements held a restricted reservoir of discipline and strength. She was invisible to them, an irrelevant fleck in the mass of inferiority.

For a moment, the verdant-green eyes of Kirihara Akaya brushed over her own mordant ones in bemused curiosity. There was something about him that challenged her, rousing a burst of hostility in her eyes. Maybe it was that seaweed-black hair or tantalizing curve of lip.

As they passed, she was shocked herself fighting back tears. A lump growing in her throat, she bit her lip in hesitance. 'Those arrogant little...' Her hands jittered in restlessness. She had kept silent and still for too long. She wanted to release her exasperation and frustration on something– preferably that narcissist bastard. The practice camp, the inter-ranking tournament... could she really let it go, all for naught? Was tennis really that meaningless: an ephemeral fad, a time-wasting hobby?

"Wait! Please wait!" She ran towards the disappearing yellow jackets. "Are you Kirihara Akaya?" Slowly, each of them turned around in solemnity. Her heart sank from intimidation.

"What do you want?" His tone was derisive and harsh. She noted, with a sense of satisfaction, that not only was he the shortest and youngest member of the team, she had grown taller by at least a centimeter.

"Were you going to play singles three against Ginka?" She found herself breathless under the flippant stares from the rest of the team. 'Are they really junior high students? More like professional Grand Slam winners...'

"Maybe. Who're you?" A flicker of curiosity flickered in his eyes.

"Let's play a set. I promise – I promise – that won't be wasting your time." He smiled in amusement and turned around to continue walking.

"Sorry, I don't have time for fanboys." A flame of irritation erupted inside her. 'Excuse me? Fanboy?!' She clutched her fists as they continued walking, chatting among themselves.

She grabbed a ball from her bag and threw it up. In a perfect motion of her arms, she brought the racket down. There occurred an alarmingly fast collision with Kirihara's head, which brought him down to his knees. The entire team turned around in amusement, impressed by the control and speed of the serve.

"I didn't give you a choice, Kirihara Ayaka. If you're too chicken, I guess it's such a pity." The bump on Kirihara's head considerably swelled.

"Did you just call me chicken?" He turned around, revealing very scary twitching eyebrows, (with eyes dabbled with a bit of crimson) but Kin just found it amusing. 'He's so easy to instigate, unlike 'nii-chan. Looks like he doesn't have to worry about this bastard.' Gruffly, Kirihara tapped his racket on his shoulder and directed, "What's your name, kid?" 'Don't call me a kid. I'm just as old as you.'

"Aoki Taro. Nice to meet you," she replied, each syllable heavy with feigned sarcasm. 'There's no way I'm letting him realize I'm that preppy kimono girl from the wedding.'

"Oi, oi, Kirihara!" A pink-haired teammate called in an irritated voice, "I thought we were going out to lunch." He held a bored and aloof gaze at Kin, and she glared at him.

"Five minutes. If it takes me any longer, I'll treat you to anything you want, Marui-senpai," Kirihara challenged with his trademark smirk. A bubble of frustration exploded inside her.

"OI, OI, if you underestimate me, YOU WILL REGRET IT!" She waved her racket in the air alarmingly as heat waves radiated from her.

"What are you making all the ruckus for? I already promised you a match. You should be grateful!" A vein appeared on his forehead.

"Who's the one making a ruckus, huh? You should be the one grateful to playme," Kin screamed as she leaned forward to shout in his face.

"TEME... you little brat, I can't wait to beat you up!" As the intimate duo sprayed saliva over each other, the rest of Rikkai's tennis team watched from afar, sweatdropping.

"Neh, Kirihara-san," Marui wined, "it's already been five minutes."

"Those two look awfully comfortable around each other. Kinda like two grannies who never grew up fussing over a lost button or other," the blue-haired trickster pointed out.

"Sanada-san, you aren't going to calm them down?" The introspective data collector asked from a corner, but the vice captain's eyes were focused intently on the figure of the amateur tennis player who impulsively challenged Rikkai's Second Year Ace. "Hm, this might make some good data."

---

"Game to Kirihara! Three games to love," the umpire declared. Her breaths came in raspy, asthmatic gasps. 'I'm completely wiped out... and I haven't gotten a single point, much less a game. What the hell is he?' She wiped the sweat from her brow. Kirihara's jacket wasn't even crumpled. 'What did I expect, after all?'

"Could this be any more boring? At least score a single point, will ya?" She forced her dying muscles to support her once again, but no matter how much she willed her legs to move, they would not budge, as if her nerves had been cut.

'What the hell is happening? Move, damnit, MOVE!'

Her own will seemed to backfire on herself. She collapsed on her knees, her pupils dilated. Her breaths were surreally shallow, her vision hazy. The world swirled around her as she lost her grip on reality. She tasted blood in her mouth and she barely recognized the impact as her head landed on the clay court.

---

Surprise filled the black-haired tennis prodigy as his opponent crumpled in front of him.

"Hey you, it's no time to play dead," he chastised, a vein appearing. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" Marching over at the irritation of being ignored, he crouched over and poked him with his racket. "Answer when the all-mighty Kirihara Akaya is talking to you." As her flushed face gave no reply, a wall of ice slammed against him in realization. "NO WAY! You actually fainted?" He poked at the motionless figure again, as if she would miraculously resurrect.

"Kirihara, you are an idiot," Yanagi blatantly declared.

"WHAT?" Kirihara demanded at the unprovoked insult. "It's not my fault he fainted. He was so weak that he didn't know his own limits." Renji quickly walked over and analyzed her brown hair.

"As I thought... You see that?" He pointed to her hair.

"See what?" he grumbled irritatedly.

"It's a wig."

"It's a wig?! Why would he be wearing a wig? You aren't playing with me, are you senpai?" Akaya protested skeptically.

"Your opponent is a girl, haven't you noticed?"

"WHAT? A GIRL?!" Kirihara jumped away from her figure like as if she was a contagious disease. "She doesn't play like a girl. Come to think of it though, her shots were getting weaker each time." As Renji chastised him and Kirihara defended in guilt, the rest of the team stood amused.

"The game took six and a half minutes," Jackal glanced at his watch.

"Ah, and our cute little kohai was playing seriously too. Considering that only three games had passed and he can usually defeat someone within five minutes, she isn't half bad," Nioh analyzed.

"Should I ask her for her name?" Yagyuu pondered.

"No, we'll see her again eventually. The next time we do, she'll be even stronger. Of that I am sure," Nioh quirked a brow. "Anyone want to get a bucket of water?"

---

A single point. I couldn't score a single point. She bit her quivering lip. After a month of backbreaking slave driving, she still couldn't gain a single point against the opponents Echizen and her brother were facing.

She slammed the racket against the ball and it sprung with a sharp pok.'So this is the true power of Rikkaidai Fuzoku. Chikusho, chikusho, CHIKUSHO!' Her entire body swerved, unleashing every last ounce of strength her feeble muscles still contained. Using her entire body as leverage, her racket slammed into the ball so fast that it became a blur of movements as the sound of the impact reverberated down the entire neighborhood. That hit contained everything she had—every last bit of strength, agility and perseverance. 'Yet... still...'

The racket flew as her grip loosened, crashing onto the chainlink fence with a mighty smash. She collapsed on the court, her fist smashing the ground in frustration.

"Shit..." To her amazement, tears swelled in her eyes and fell to the ground in salty droplets. What had she been thinking? She couldn't compete with her brother in tennis any more than mathematics. She was a failure, flat and simple. Even after putting her entire heart and soul into training, she had nothing to show for it. All those hours training, those sweat and tears... it was all pointless, all wasted. She willed for the tears to stop, but it only made her sobs worse as they started to burn her eyes and cheeks.

There was no one there to soothe her, no one there to ease her of her worries. She was alone, and forever will be.

Her vision was so blurry with tears and her body was shuddering so hard that she did not notice the broken tennis ball that had rolled back to her ankle with its rubber scraped off.

--The Day Before--

"Vitamin C and B are water-type vitamins. It will be processed by the body in about six hours, so turn it into a drink, and drink it multiple times. Don't forget protein, iron and calcium," Michiru lectured.

Tashirou sniffed the green, thick liquid and grimaced. It did not look very appetizing, to say the least. "Hey Michiru, can we really get stronger with this stuff?"

"You say Seigaku's strength, right?" He held up a finger. "Those guys drink the special drinks that their manager makes. That's why they can put out power at this time."

Suzuki snorted. "Buchou is just trying to sound smart because Kin-chan's gone."

Michiru drew a death glare. "Did you say something, Suzuki-san?"

"N-no, nothing. Is that all?"

"No, no. Look at this," Fukushi held up a bottle that was labeled 'Inui's Special Vegetable Juice.' "Hehe, I went and got this!"

"Yeah," Kiyoshi cheered, "if we put this in, it's the completion of the perfect health drink, The Three Flavors of Ginka!"

"HAAAAAA! GINKA!" They all roared.

"Let's make Tezuka-fukubuchou proud!"

--The Next Day of School--

"WHAT? THEY'VE BEEN HOSPITALIZED FOR FOOD POISONING?!" She shook Taro by the shoulders in disbelief.

"T-that's right," Taro muttered weakly. 'Seriously, those guys... they can't take care of themselves for TWO DAYS when I'm gone?!'

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter anymore," she shrugged and regained her composure.

"What do you mean it doesn't matter anymore? Aren't you going to go visit them?" Taro asked in alarm.

"Who would want to visit that blockhead Michiru? Humph." She picked up her face as they sped down the hallway to history class.

"Why won't you visit them?" Taro demanded as he squeezed through the crowd.

"It won't matter, since I've quit the tennis club," she mumbled.

Taro blinked and replied, "Don't be ridiculous. For a moment, I thought you said you were quitting the tennis club." She stopped and gave him a curious, unfathomable look.

"I did." Time seemed to pause for a moment. The thought was incomprehensible to Taro. There was no way; she must be joking. But her face was perfectly serious, and she seemed perfectly fine with it.

"Oh I see, are you injured or something?" Taro suggested.

"No," she blinked, "tennis is pointless now. My parents would be a lot happier if I spent the time studying."

"But-Kin-you-Fuku-" Taro was at a complete loss for words. There was something different about the girl next to him today. She felt strangely alien, surreally detached. A hard glint shown in her eyes, but a strange sorrow lagged down the finesse of her movements. 'What is going on?'

'Uh-hm. So what happens next? Has Kin ultimately relinquished her dream of beating her brother? Were Nioh's prophecies wrong after all? Only three (or four) chapters left!'

---NOW SEEKING NEW EDITOR--- (Just review and tell me. Anyone is better than no one. :D)