Disclaimer: Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis.

Hamasaki Tatsuya, Yoko's father, stared at a photograph of his late wife on his desk one cold morning, deep in thought. It rained quite heavily the night before, and the sky was still laden with dark clouds. Good thing there were no winds, and the downpour ceased into occasional drizzles shortly after dawn.

He hated the rain, or at least he wanted to. Rain meant water, and water killed the love of his life. But water sustains life; every living thing depends on it. And so was he. Scientifically, human beings would die within 72 hours without water. But he had put on for ten years without Mizuno. His water.

His eyes shifted to Yoko's photograph.

He was lucky he had another source of water, and that is Yoko. She was young and teeming with life, just like the ocean teeming with fish. She had given him the water that kept him alive all those years and in the years to come.

A soft knock interrupted his musings, and the door to his study opened, revealing old Fukuda. She had brought in his usual cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Tatsuya," she greeted as she entered.

"Good morning, Fukuda-san," he greeted back, but his eyes remained fixed on the photograph.

He could hear her footsteps approaching, until they finally came to a stop.

"She seems more cheerful lately," he remarked without averting his gaze.

Fukuda placed the cup on the table.

"That's true, but we both know that she is still missing out on something."

Tatsuya looked up for the first time.

"She is a strong girl, Tatsuya. She wants to let go of the past and move on with her life, just like what we want for her. But you have to help your daughter. She needs you to allow her to find the closure she seeks."

He opened his mouth to protest, to say that he did allow all those trips to the ocean despite all his fears of losing his only child, but nothing came out.

"I'm not asking you to recount that stormy night on the yacht. I know how painful it is for you. All I'm saying is for you to share with her whatever memories Mizuno has left behind. Yoko simply wants a part of her mother, something that she could associate with her, to feel connected with her."

She held his gaze firmly as she said her little speech, and continued to do so until he gave her an answer.

The coffee was getting cold as the clocked ticked, and finally, after a long silence, Tatsuya spoke.

"I'll think about it."

Yoko was in high spirits as she walked to her classroom that morning. She had been listening to the sound of the waves whenever she had the time, thanks to the seashell Ootori gave her. It helped her identify with her mother without actually going to the ocean and making everyone around her worry.

To put it simply, it helped her move on.

It was very kind of him to do that for her. She knew she owed him a lot of things, and began to think of ways to repay the boy.

She heard quick taps behind her, and before she could completely turn around to see who it was, Ootori already caught up with her.

"Good morning, Hamasaki-san."

"Good morning, Ootori-kun. How's morning practice?"

"We weren't able to play because the courts are wet, but we were still able to train. Sakaki-kantoku decided to do some weight lifting and stretching exercises at the gym."

"That's good to hear. You have a tournament coming up, right?"

"Yes. Would you like to watch our games?"

"Sure."

Their conversation went on like that, until they finally reached their classroom and the morning classes started.

Ever since that day on the rooftop, the two of them became closer than ever. Aside from the usual lunches at the cafeteria and visits to the church, they did their homework and studied for exams together at the library. Yoko had been a regular audience of the afternoon practices of the tennis club, while Ootori tried his best to encourage and support her in every way he could.

On one occasion, he asked: "Do you like music, Hamasaki-san?"

Yoko just looked at him, clearly puzzled about the sudden question.

"I noticed that you aren't a member of any club, so maybe you are interested to join. If you happen to like music, that is. Or any other club you like, I suppose," he added the last part hastily, not wanting to sound imposing to her.

She bit her lip, not really expecting such an inquiry. She was not ready for it, but the question touched a part of her that she did not know herself, enough to make her consider it.

"But you don't have to bother yourself about it, really," Ootori said, growing uneasy from the awkward silence his question caused.

"I guess so."

That night, Yoko lay in her bed after a tiring school day. She put the seashell in her ear, silently wishing that the sound of the waves would drown the thoughts occupying her mind.

Do you like music, Hamasaki-san?

I noticed that you aren't a member of any club, so maybe you are interested to join.

Do you like music? You like music. Like music. Music...

She let her thoughts trail, and soon enough she heard the usual melody she wanted to hear. She knew it by heart already, but not because of the many times it played itself in her head. Yes, she knew how to read notes and sing do-re-mi, but she is no prodigy. All she knew was she felt a strange sense of familiarity.

Her thoughts were back as soon as the last notes echoed in her mind.

Music... Perhaps I should give it a try.

It was a Saturday afternoon. Yoko just got home from a visit to the local music store, checking out a couple of instruments and music sheets. She ended up buying CDs to listen to on her laptop and was about to play some pieces when she heard a knock on her room.

"Lady Yoko, your father wishes to see you in his study."

"I'll be right there. Thank you, Fukuda-san."

Minutes later, she was standing outside the door of her father's study. She briefly wondered why he had called for her, but decided to let it go. She would know soon anyway.

She took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

She opened the door and stepped inside.

"You sent for me, otou-san?"

"Yes, dear. Please take a seat."

Yoko closed the door, and walked towards her father. It was then that she noticed a white hat with a black ribbon, and a silver flute on the desk. She looked at her father curiously, completely forgetting to sit down.

He sighed, knowing that he couldn't back down now. He had to tell her what she deserved to know.

"These are your mother's. When we went searching for her, only the hat was found. The flute was left in the yacht's cabin."

He kept his head low, avoiding her gaze. His eyes followed her every move instead: she reached for the hat and hugged it to her chest, while her other hand fingered the cold surface of the flute. She closed her eyes while doing so, savoring the sensations. And after a few minutes, she neatly placed them back on the desk.

And then, she turned to him.

He hesitantly looked at her face, not knowing what to do or say at the moment. His mind was blank, and all he thought was that she was starting to look more and more like her mother with those warm brown eyes and pale skin, save for her long straight black hair that she got from him.

He was surprised when she suddenly hugged him, but he soon eased to the contact and hugged her back.

"Thank you, Otou-san," her voice was muffled by his clothes, but that didn't matter. Her gesture was enough to make him understand what she was trying to tell him.

"You're always welcome, my child."