A brightly lit room felt stuffy with unusually high levels of tension. Just like Christmas Eve, there was not a sound. However, the mood of this particular group of people was far from festive. It was, in fact, the complete opposite. Frustrated and enraged, some of Hyotei Academy's best and brightest trembled visibly in their chairs. The proud school, which had claimed the prestigious title of champion in the Rutherford Contest for Advanced Theoretical Physics for the past five years, was at a loss of words.
"An absolute disgrace!" Mitsuhiro Hiroshi, senior director of the science department, slammed the sheets of paper onto the table in front of him with more than enough force. "Not one of you placed in the top ten this year!" His glare was ferocious. "I've repeated time and time again before the contest that no matter what, you must give it your best effort!" He reached for the results, and shook the piece of paper so hard in the air that it rattled— threatening to fall apart. "Is this all you've got? Hyotei is going to be the laughing stock of Tokyo!"
For a man of such elegant stature, he was exceptionally good at ripping the students' self-esteem into pathetic little pieces mercilessly. Each word he spat out of his mouth was a razor, one that had the ability to carve and shape whatever medium was desired. He would have continued, it seemed, for an infinitely long period of time, if not startled by an unexpected bang.
"So the bunch of losers have gathered here to atone for their sins, ahn?"
Atobe Keigo, the King of Hyotei Academy, would not do without a dramatic entrance. Famous for having an undefeatable ego, the England born Japanese treated the occupants of this exact room to a smirk of triumph. Handsome, talented, wealthy, and influential— Atobe was the perfect creation that came in a packaging of an intoxicating charisma with the ability to attracted men and women alike. He knows this, and he is most certainly not shy about flaunting it.
The diva crossed his arms over his chest, and savoured the deadly silence. His insight did not allow the rigidity of the crowd to escape the king's knowledge. They were furious. Furious that their dignity had just taken a major blow to the head.
"Kabaji. Give that folder to Mitsuhiro-sensei."
"Usu."
Before the other male could reply, Atobe continued. "Ore-sama took the liberty of persuading the association to release the top contender's test paper. Several other organizations are interested in it as well. Ore-sama believes that it could give these washed up physicists some motivation. Show them how far they still have to go."
"Atobe-"
"Ore-sama knows that you are grateful for his charity. Nothing more needs to be said. Kabaji, we're leaving."
"Usu."
"Outdone by an eight year old." Atobe laughed to himself. "How pitiful." He had no sympathy for the wretched souls that were on the other side of the door. They had not prepared themselves, and could only watch helplessly as their opponents scored point after point against their game. If they were in the tennis club, he would have made them suffer a horrible punishment before dismissing them permanently. He thought about it some more. Actually, they don't even deserve to be given a place on the team.
Now, one of the many things that Atobe held in high regard of himself was that he was not surprised easily. Child geniuses come up on the news relatively frequently, usually associated with some sort of topic that he could care less about. This case, however, was rather peculiar. Regardless of the female stereotype commonly associated with the mathematics and physics department, something else about the winner of this year's competition caught his attention. She had the same obnoxious eyes that had challenged and mocked him at the Kantou Tournament two years ago. There was no doubt about it: another brat sired by the Samurai Nanjiro. But…why wasn't she interested in tennis?
"Kabaji, remind ore-sama that we'll need to a take a detour one of these days." the youth commanded.
"Usu."
-080-
"Tadaima."
It was well past six o'clock in the evening when two shadowed figures leisurely made their way back to the Echizen residence.
"Ryoma-kun, Nabiki-chan, you're home." Nanako, who happened to be passing by after her quick trip to the laundry room, smiled. "Oba-san just started making dinner. I hope you're not too hungry. There are some snacks in the living room though."
"Ah."
"Arigatou onee-chan."
The sun had yet to lower itself from its throne in the sky. Ryoma turned his bookbag upside down and allowed the contents to spill across the tatami mats. He wasn't too interested in the homework, expect for English— which he could, no doubt, finish very quickly. Despite his respectful title as the tennis team's captain, his height saw a relatively minor growth spurt during the two summers before his final year at Seishun Gakuen Middle School. However, he was beautiful. Black hair with natural dark green tints and a pair of seductive amber eyes added to his mysterious presence. Moreover, his fanclub had, according to Nabiki and Inui's careful calculations, increased exponentially in size. It appeared that most of the female population of the school were unable to resist the "bad boy" type, so to speak.
Nabiki, on the other hand, had left her bag untouched. She was drawing a sketch of a piece of machinery with absolute attention. Ryoma, who was now a little curious as to what stunt the baby genius had in mind, looked over at the piece of tissue paper she was working with. It looked awfully like a nuclear accelerator. He knew his subjects well enough to get by, but dedicated most of his energy to tennis. It was no longer a purposeless game he played because of his father. He had found his tennis. His reason in the sport.
"Is there something wrong with my drawing aniki?" Nabiki was staring at him. "Perhaps the diameter should be increased to allow the particles to increase in velocity for a sufficient period of time."
So it was an accelerator.
"Bitsune." He finally replied.
She went back to her work, focused intently on the masterpiece. This was theoretical work, but with certain adjustments, perhaps she would be able to find a connection with experimental physics— an area of knowledge that she had always been cautious about.
"Did you win the contest?"
There was a short period of silence as Nabiki completed another detail on her diagram.
"Ah. Sensei was proud to announce the results."
Ryoma sandwiched his pen in his workbook. Most things outside of the tennis realm slid past him like water on a duck's back, but his younger sibling's IQ of 200 most certainly did not. She was eight years old, and already in her last year of middle school. Her obsession with particle and nuclear physics in particular, drew attention from the family. Everyone played tennis to a certain degree in the Echizen household. It was fair to say that Nabiki was no expection. Their father saw to that personally, even though she had clearly indicated at the age of five that she had no passion for the sport. After she had presented them with a written paper on the reasons why, it took three tests from the largest hospital in Tokyo district to convince their parents that their youngest child did not have any mental deficits.
"Aniki, how did it feel when you won the Nationals?"
He thought about it for a moment. The thrill that he felt when he stepped onto the tennis court against Yukimura Seiichi, the Child of God, could not be put into words. He felt powerful, free, and at home. All physical boundaries were broken down as adrenaline soared in his veins. There was only a continuum of him and his opponent's exchange, from which he eventually distinguished himself as winner.
"Inhuman." He said in the end. "An overwhelming sense of freedom and meaning."
Nabiki blinked owlishly. "I guess that's how I feel now…When I started to put those equations onto the page, I couldn't stop myself." She played with the pen in her hand for a few seconds before looking up again. "With that pen and those numbers…I knew that I could unlock the world's secrets."
"Nabiki-chan?" Nanako entered the living room with some crumpled up pages in her hands. She looked rather guilty. "I thought that I had put these away safely…but Oji-san must have found them somehow."
"What did oyaji do this time?" Ryoma cut her off just as she was about to begin the next sentence. His father's childish attitude could turn anyone off.
"He was," Nanako hesitated for a few beats before admitting the truth, "folding paper airplanes."
"Nanako! Could you get the cabbage out of the fridge for me? I'm afraid that my hands are rather occupied." Rinko called from the kitchen.
"Y-yes oba-san!" The older female turned to her baby cousin. "I'm really sorry about this Nabiki-chan. I promise to make it up to you." She guaranteed before hurrying to the kitchen. "I'm coming oba-san!"
The papers groaned under her small hands as she stretched them out again. Some of the writing was illegible, smothered out by brown stains that looked suspiciously like tea. Her small frame fought to suppress a sigh and any other murderous thoughts. Two weeks of careful research and calculations…tarnished by one instance of careless.
A grape bounced off the top of her head. Nabiki glowered at the culprit. Her nerves had already undergone a dangerous stretch, and her older brother's cocky smile was unquestionably not an asset to their recovery.