Disclaimer: Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis.

Two pairs of footsteps echoed inside the church. The warm rays of the afternoon sun passed through the high windows, illuminating the place with hues of yellow and orange. The footsteps advanced row after row of seats, and stopped before the statue of the Virgin Mary.

Neither of the two made a move to sit down, nor dared to speak a word. They simply stood there in silence, immersed in each other's thoughts.

Yoko felt a familiar sensation as an unknown melody played itself in her mind while she stared at the statue bathed in the light. And then, she remembered.

Six year-old Hamasaki Yoko sat on a swing in the nearby park. She watched a mother play with her child on the slide, and smiled sadly.

I wonder how it feels to have my mother by my side.

"Lady Yoko, it's time to go home. We'll come back next time."

"Okay."

On their way home, the limo passed by a cliff overlooking the ocean. Yoko turned to the window, and unconsciously held on to the glass.

"Fukuda-san?" the girl said without tearing her gaze on the waves.

"Is there anything you need, young miss?"

"Please take me to the ocean next time."

The old woman was taken aback. She hesitated for a bit, and then finally answered the child.

"Anywhere you want, young miss."

Yoko felt a strange affinity to the ocean the moment they arrived. She did not know why, but the warmth of the fine sand on her feet felt like a mother's touch, and the cool sea breeze blowing her hair and touching her skin felt like a mother's kiss.

It was only when she got home after the incident did she understood what she felt at that time.

"Yoko!" Her father rushed to her, hugged her tightly, kissed her on the forehead, and hugged her again.

"First Mizuno, and now, the ocean almost took you away from me!"

What she heard would have been incomprehensible for a six year-old kid, but Yoko perfectly understood.

Her mother, Hamasaki Mizuno, died in the ocean.

The melody in her head came to a halt. She knew it wasn't complete, yet she doesn't even know what it was or what it was about. She didn't know why coming to this place suddenly made her reminisce, but somehow, she felt at peace.

Ootori looked at the girl beside him. He could not understand why, but to him, she looked troubled, but at the same time, she looked serene. She has always been like that, and her smiles seem to always say the same thing: "It's okay. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

She had not changed much since the first time they had met a year ago – well, not exactly the very first time – at this very same church, in this very same time of day.

She was still wearing her Hyotei Middle School uniform, and so was he. He remembered hearing her light footsteps as she approached the statue of the Virgin Mary. He wondered if she did not notice his presence at all, or she simply chose to ignore him.

It was almost time to go home, but for some odd reason, Ootori was glued to his seat. He continued staring at the girl's long black hair falling freely down her back, illuminated by the sunset hues.

It was then that his tennis bag had slipped from his seat, and a loud thud echoed inside the church.

The girl turned around.

The moment his eyes landed on her face, he immediately recognized her as the girl he had saved six years ago. His memories of that day were starting to flash in his mind. Only when he heard those light footsteps did he remember to apologize.

"I'm sorry, miss. I did not mean to–"

Yoko's voice suddenly brought him back to the present.

"Ootori-kun? Is there something wrong, Ootori-kun?"

"Oh. Sorry for spacing out like that, Hamasaki-san."

He bowed out of habit, trying to shake off the memories. But when he looked up and saw her face, when he saw that smile, he just couldn't stop reminiscing.

"I'm sorry, miss. I did not mean to disturb you."

And she flashed him that very same smile of hers for the very first time.

Tezuka passed by a row of cherry blossom trees on his way home. The wind was blowing gently, and some of the blossoms were dancing with the wind. Combine this with the sunset, and anyone but Tezuka could have left their mouth hanging in awe. The Seigaku captain had his usual stoic face, devoid of any emotions. Nothing unusual, his talent in hiding his feelings apparently matches that of his tennis skills.

But at that moment, behind that masked face of his, Tezuka was thinking about things he didn't welcome at all – though his face didn't show any of it, not even the tiniest bit.

Six year-old Tezuka Kunimitsu was patiently waiting for a fish to get caught in his bait. His grandfather was doing the same thing, and neither of them spoke a word. It was some sort of an unspoken rule between the two of them. Their fishing routine has always been spent in utter silence, save for the swishing of the waves, the whistling of the wind, and the occasional chirping of the birds.

They have gotten used to the appearance of the girl trying to swim from time to time, although sometimes, out of reflex – and some tinge of worry – they would still be turning towards the shore the moment they hear the splash of the water from her efforts.

Tezuka felt a pull from his bait, and tightened the grip on his fishing pole, when he noticed the smell of incense and the cherry blossoms floating with the waves. His eyes traced the path from which they came from, and he saw a girl in black kneeling on the shore, eyes closed and hands together in prayer – the very same girl that made him unconsciously worry every time he goes fishing with his grandfather.

She was back to normal again after that, learning to swim on her own, and always failing every time. But a year after, she showed up clad in black again, kneeling on the shore, and the smell of incense and the cherry blossoms were carried by the wind and waves once more.

And just like the girl's appearance every time he goes fishing, Tezuka had gotten used to it year after year.

Tezuka looked at his watch. It was getting dark, and he needed to get home soon to prepare their training schedule and line-ups for the upcoming prefectural tournament. He still had his academics and student council work to be taken care of; he had no time to think of unnecessary things.

Upon remembering his responsibilities, Tezuka adjusted his glasses, and hurried his pace.