Breathing I

Chapter 2: Where It Comes From

She walked into the small two-story house her grandparents owned.

It was close to her school, so she had spent the night over here often, and now that her parents were away, she spent all her nights here. It wasn't much compared to the large compound that served as dojo and living quarters to her family, but it was a very comfortable little dwelling and there was something freeing about getting away from the usually scenery around the dojo.

When Tou-san had grown up and taken over the dojo, Okaa-san had pressured Ojii-san to move out. It was just the woman's free spirit not wanting to burden anyone and live out in the open. Sakuno could understand that, could admire that in her obaa-san. She was fiercely independent and even now refused to subsist on Ojii-san's income as a dojo master and instructor, thriving in her job as a tennis coach at the prestigious

Seishun Gakuen. Sakuno hoped to be that strong with the man she would marry one day.

"I'm home!" she called as she shut the door behind her.

"Welcome home, Ryu-chan," Ojii-san greeted as he walked into the entrance hallway.

She smiled at the nickname and quickly took off her shoes, placing them neatly beside the other two pairs.

She took a moment to admire the old man she loved with all her heart, not only as family, but as a person as well. He was in his late fifties, but his spine was as straight and strong as it had been in his twenties, a consequence of a life as a martial arts master. He carried himself with confidence and authority and each movement was fluid with grace. His golden eyes were sharp, but kindly, often bright and warm. His face was a little sunken, the mouth and eyes ringed by laugh lines, but the beauty it portrayed in his younger days could still be seen there. His ashy brown hair streaked with silver was long and tied in two braids at the extreme base of his skull, the traditional hairstyle of the men in the Ryuuzaki family that served as a powerful weapon in close combat. His shoulders were broad and powerful and Sakuno thought there was nothing they couldn't bear.

"Back from the park so soon?" he asked as she bent to slip on a pair of house slippers. "Learn anything about yourself?"

Sakuno's eyes darted up to her wise grandfather before settling on the floor. She knew that this small act as well as the almost unnoticeable slump in her shoulders would be enough to let Ojii-san know her soul-searching and brought her no closer to the answers she sought. It was oddly comforting knowing she needed no words for Ojii-san to understand her.

With her slippers on, she made to continue on into the house, but her grandfather blocked the way, holding up a palm harshly perpendicular to the floor and planting his feet in preparation.

She frowned at him and then looked away.

"Come on, Ojii-san. Don't you think I'm…a little too old for that?"

He scowled at her. "Too old? What does age have to do with it?"

"W-well, it's just that no one else does this type of stuff with their-"

"Ah," he said with a wide scowl and quickly snatched a braid from behind her back, tugging hard. "I see. You think because you're down and moping I'll let you get by with that excuse? 'Let me be normal, Ojii-san.' I think not. My girl was not made to be normal. We both know that. You are hiding from me, my girl, and I won't have it."

She winced as he pulled harder. She didn't want him to know her feelings. Not today. Not when she felt horrible for not getting on that plane. Not when she felt horrible about not having the courage to tell that boy what it meant to her to watch him breathe. She was stuck with no way out. Ojii-san was right. She was hiding, not wanting to see disappointment in the old man's eyes, but she was a Ryuuzaki, and a Ryuuzaki never hid from the ones she loved.

"Fine," she sighed.

Ojii-san quickly let go and the wide scowl turned into a wide grin.

"Now, let me see Sakuno," he breathed with anticipation and holding his palm up like before.

She sighed again. She slid a foot behind her and dropped to a slight crouch, taking a deep breath and finding her center. She raised her hands as fist before her, initiating the first position of the kata she had been taught as soon as she could walk.

With another deep breath and a last glance at Ojii-san's expectant face, she shifted her weight to her back foot and jumped up, twisting in the air and using all of her power, all of her weight, and all of her centripetal force, she landed a punch dead center into his palm. In house slippers of his own, he slid backwards half a meter on the hardwood floor.

She was a little worried that she had used too much force for a simple greeting punch, but Ojii-san only let out a loud laugh.

"Ah, that's what it is!" he said happily. "Angry at yourself, are you? Stuck and dismayed that you can't find your way out."

She sighed. Of course he had read her like a book through that punch. He was the one who had taught her how to read someone through his punch. She shook her head in dismay. The old man was simply incorrigible. She tried to walk past him, tired of having no thoughts to herself, but he slung his arm around her shoulders and steered her away from her room to the living room, where he sat her on the couch and held her in place beside him.

"Now, now. Don't go away mad. I feel your mind, but that doesn't mean I can read it. Tell me all about it."

"Ojii-san," she whined. "Can't I have something be private?"

"Hmm," he said, stroking the fuzz on his chin thoughtfully before turning to give her a bright smile. "Nope!"

She frowned at him and crossed her arms like an angry child who didn't get her way.

"Tou-san and Kaa-san want me to join them in China for the summer," she said reluctantly.

"Aa." He had been there when she got the letter and phone call. He had also felt the conflict the proposal had stirred in her the next time they had sparred. "That sounds like fun. I know you would enjoy it.

"I know I would too."

"Then what's the problem, Ryuu-chan?" he asked kindly in his deep, quiet voice.

"If I go, I won't get to watch Ryoma-kun's tennis," she said quietly in almost a whisper.

Ojii-san noticed the blush she tried to hide behind her bangs. It was embarrassing to admit that a boy was holding her back. Ojii-san didn't think so, though. He just smiled at her and nodded.

"Ryoma…that's Nanjirou's kid isn't it. The one your obaa-chan won't stop talking about?"

She nodded slightly, looking up into his golden eyes and hoping he wouldn't be too angry with her.

"Isn't he the one that won't notice anything twice in one day unless it has to do with tennis?" he speculated.

She blushed and nodded again.

"Hm. I suppose that's why you like him then?"

She nodded at his questioning glance. He bobbed his head in time with hers.

"Makes sense," he said with a wry smile.

Her eyes went wide. He wasn't mad?

"It…It does?" she asked with confusion.

"Of course. The two of you are a lot alike."

"We are?" she asked skeptically.

"Sure. Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Remember the time when you ate, drank, slept, and dreamt of nothing but martial arts. Hell, if I didn't know any better I'd swear you breathed it too. Your obaa-chan was so worried you would never see anything else and would be doomed to a martial arts dominated life," he said with a fond smile and a little sarcasm. "I wouldn't have minded, but she was right. It wasn't exactly socially healthy for such a young girl to have such a one-track mind. You'll never believe how happy she and your kaa-chan were when you finally started to take interest in the world outside of martial arts. When was that? It was only a few years ago."

"Hai," she said, the memories slowly returning. "That was when Tomo-chan was a student at the dojo. She's the one who got me interested in the outside world."

"Ah, yes. Hanamitsu's girl. She had talent. She could have been something if she had worked harder, but alas, no one can hold onto a social butterfly without crushing it."

She giggled at his wistful tone. He smiled and laughed with her, but soon turned a serious, calculating eye on her. She stopped at looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"Have I ever told you how I met your obaa-chan?"

She nodded. "Your mother wanted you to take up a different sport to get some of your mind off the dojo. You took up tennis and Obaa-chan was your instructor. You were horrible at it at first, but you got better. You and Obaa-chan fell in love along the way."

"Hm. Close, but not quite."

"Really?"

He nodded at her. Her brow furrowed.

"Then how did it go?"

"Well, she was my instructor and I was terrible at first, but I didn't fall in love along the way."

"But…"

"Let me finish," he admonished, tugging lightly on her braids. "I fell in love with her the first time I saw her play serious tennis."

"Really?" she asked hopefully, glad she wasn't the only one.

"Yep. She was amazing, Ryuu-chan. Every stroke, every backhand, every volley. She put her heart and soul into it. She was so passionate about her game and even when she lost, she smiled just because she had the chance to play. It took my breath away actually. That's how you feel about this Ryoma, isn't it?"

She nodded shyly.

"Heh. Well, I'm not going to tell you it's going to be easy. Hell, I had to go through quite a lot of shit with that woman before she finally admitted she loved me too."

"Language, Ojii-chan."

"And like you, I made a few damn stupid sacrifices too," he said, ignoring her reprisal. "But I did manage it and now I couldn't be happier. If it's something you really want to happen, you'll have to work very hard. But I know you can do it if you set your mind to it, kiddo."

"Ojii-san," she moaned, "I'm only thirteen. It's too early to be thinking about love."

"Whatever you say, Ryuu-chan," he said tenderly as he ruffled her bangs. "So, do you feel better about it now?"

She smiled at him and nodded.

"Good. Now go on up to your room and practice that excellent karate form of yours. It's not quite perfect yet."

"Hai!"

She gave a light punch to the palm he held up as he gave an easy hit to the palm she held up for him. It was how they communicated. She could blame him for crippling her communication skills in the outside world, but she really couldn't bring herself to do it. If she had to choose, she would rather be able to understand someone's feeling through a simple touch.

She ran off like he said, pausing only a moment to glance back at the strong old man who had taught her about life and the martial arts. This is where she came from and she couldn't be happier.