Breathing I
Chapter 3: (Ryoma Interlude) Memories I Wish I Hadn't Forgot
He was hungry. He had just woken up from his afternoon nap. Karupin yawned at his feet, rolled over and then went back to sleep. Very slowly, so as not to disturb her, he put his feet down on the traditional wood flooring he loved so much. Really, why had he ever left Japan? Seeking out strong tennis opponents was fun and all, but there was really no place like home. Too bad it was just for the summer.
He walked out of his room lazily, making sure all body language pointed to his obvious dislike to put up with an annoyances right now, aka his idiot oyaji. Luckily, there wasn't anyone around. At least, not upstairs there wasn't. He heard them about halfway down, Kaa-san and Oyaji in the kitchen. He slid open the door only to be greeted with laughter.
"Oh, I remember that one," Kaa-san laughed.
"Hey, yeah! That was the time Sano got hit on by that guy," he laughed. "Sakura was so pissed, she wiped the floor with him with a camera string. The guy cried like a little girl."
"That's not how I remember it. I seem to recall you told the poor guy Sano was a girl," she grinned mischievously. "And the only reason Sakura didn't beat you up too was because Sano stopped her."
"Heh. Really? I guess I blacked that part out," Oyaji said as he scratched his chin.
As he came into the room, he saw what had their attention. It was an old photo album, the pages black and the pictures a little faded and old looking.
"Ah, Ryoma," Kaa-san called. "Come see these. There's some of you as a baby."
"No thanks," he said, more interested in filling his stomach than looking at some old pictures of a time he couldn't even remember.
"Ne, Shonen!" his father said, coming over and putting him in a headlock before dragging him over to the table and the photo album. "This is history! History! Young minds should always be filled with such knowledge! Do like Kaa-san says and let your mind be filled with the history!"
"What are you babbling on about, baka oyaji?" Ryoma intoned.
"I'm talking about where you come from!" the old man said with a satisfied smile now that his son was looking. "The circumstances of your oyaji's life. The triumphs, the glories, the hilarious anecdotes of the–"
Ryoma ignored his father's ramblings and chose to look at the pictures for lack of anything better to do. All of the pictures had his mother and father in them at a fair. They were laughing and smiling in all of them. There were also two other women with them, one in a kimono for the fair and the other in traditional dress like what his father wore around the house, except a little more formal and properly closed. They were both very pretty, but the woman with the long ashy brown braids was downright beautiful. They both seemed oddly familiar somehow. He couldn't put his finger on it though.
"Who are those girls?" he asked suddenly, pointing to a close-up shot of just the two.
For some weird reason, his parents started snickering. He hated when they did that. It was always a 'I know something good that you don't' snicker that they both made whenever he said something he probably shouldn't have. He glared up at the both of them, not sure how effective it would be when their eyes were closed in mirth and he was still in his father's headlock.
"That's not a girl, Ryoma," Okaa-san said kindly, pointing to the beautiful one with the braids. "That's Sano-kun. He and your father went to school together. He was on your father's tennis team."
"What?!" he yelled disbelievingly. He looked back at the picture, a little bit more discerning this time. Now that he thought about it, the braided girl was a little flat chested. Okay, they were nonexistent. And she was wearing men's clothes. She could be a he.
"But he's so pretty!" he thought out loud.
"Tell me about it. It's really weird having a best friend you'd consider dating if he wore a dress and some makeup," his father said.
"If I wasn't married, of course," Oyaji said quickly at his mother's suspicious glare.
"So is the other one a girl?" he asked, not sure anymore. She was busty enough. Her face was heart-shaped and her bright red hair was in an elegant sweep and bun on the top of her head. And she was wearing a kimono. She seemed girly enough, but he was pretty sure his father knew at least a few transvestites.
"Hai," his mother said happily. "That's Sakura-chan. She's Sano's wife. She and I are good friends. She's a photographer. That's why most of the pictures in here are so good."
"If you're such good friends with them, how come I've never met them?" he asked angrily, still wondering how they looked so familiar. It was getting to him like an itch he couldn't reach.
"You have met them," she said. "When you were only a baby. And it was only while we were living here during the summer. Back then we would always come back for visits. But when you got older, and I got busier at work, it was harder to find the time to come and visit. We kept in touch though. You should see all the letters we get from them."
That made a little sense.
"But how come I haven't met them now?" he asked. "We've been in Japan for a while now."
"Well, a couple of years ago, they went on a tour of China," his father said, touching a picture of the four of them together as if longing for his friends.
"China?" he asked skeptically.
"Yeah, they're going around to all the dojo and monasteries they can find. She's taking pictures and that crazy guy is probably learning everything he can," Oyaji said with a fond smirk.
"Dojo? Monasteries? What would they go there for?" he asked.
"Sano-kun is a martial arts master, Ryoma," his mother told him. "He's absolutely crazy about it. He eats, sleeps, and breathes karate and the like. He's really into it and he says he needs more than what just Japan has to offer. He was the grand master of a dojo, but I think he left it to his daughter when he left. His father probably helps run it too."
"How old is his daughter?" he asked curiously. Sano-san and Sakura-san had to be the same age as his mother and father. They couldn't have a kid old enough to be grand master of a dojo.
"She's only a few months younger than you are," his mother said, turning the page to a picture of two toddlers, one with dark, greenish hair and golden eyes and the other with brownish red hair and eyes the color of burnt honey. The itch in his head got worse.
"You've probably met her," his father said conspiratorially. He took out a picture of Sano-san and Sakura-san and showed him the back.
Ryuuzaki Sanosuke. Ryuuzaki Sakura. August 14. Those were the words on the back. There was no freaking way.
"She's your coach's granddaughter," Oyaji said smugly with a too wide grin and his abviously shocked state.
He reached up and took the picture out his father's hand. He turned it over and stared at the two faces smiling out at him. So these were Ryuuzaki's parents? These were Ryuuzaki's parents. The itch in his head was gone. No wonder they looked so familiar. And how could he have missed those braids.
Ryoma looked at the pictures of the two babies, now seeing Ryuuzaki in that baby face next to his own. He handed the picture of her parents back to his mother, who lovingly tucked it back in its place.
His father let him out of the headlock, but he only straightened and continued to look at the pictures in shock. His father patted him on the back happily.
"Ne, Shonen, don't worry about it. You'll get to meet them some day. Preferably before you marry Sakuno-chan."
He didn't even hear his father. He was too focused on what he had heard earlier and applying it to this disturbing revelation.
"Ryuuzaki is the grand master of a dojo?"
Author's Note:
This story is still on Hiatus. The muse just struck me all of a sudden. So, don't epect anything more for a while. For those who are interested in the writing process, look up The Chapter that Never Was. It was the first draft of this chapter. Some of it was good. I didn't want to just erase it, so I posted it as it's own fic. I think Ryoma may have been a little more in character in that one, but this fit the story's tone better I think. Enjoy.
Sani