Hello again! First off, I'd like to say thank you for the reviews everyone. They make my writer's heart do a happy dance. Consider yourselves showered with reviewer cookies. :D Sorry I haven't replied to them individualy; my server has been evil. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is so very not mine.

First for the love of yesterday, closest to the heart,

Born of adoration, and doomed from the start.

The First Day

Sakuno opened her eyes.

Why am I lying on the floor? She blinked blearily, trying to take in her surroundings. Empty room with large windows, the underside of a tall table, shelves full of…pickled things in jars? She sat up quickly. A little too quickly, her aching head informed her. Sakuno rested for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to subside.

So she was in the science lab. But why? Her eyebrows furrowed. She had been…cleaning…yes, that was it. Cleaning for Inui-sempai. And then…she must have fallen. Why else would she be lying on the ground?

Slowly she got to her feet. How much time had passed?

The clock on the wall read 7:30, so school hadn't started yet. Sakuno sighed in relief. In fact, she had probably been out for only a few minutes really.

Sakuno wiped her forehead. She noticed with displeasure that the hard morning's cleaning had made her braids frizzy. She slid the elastics out of her long hair, and quickly finger-combed it.

First, she re-parted it, two equal sections, just as she had thousands of times before. Next, she parted one section into three, careful to keep them even as well. Then it was the rightmost lock of hair over the center, then the leftmost. Right over, left over, right, left, right.

Pokpok. Pokpok. Popok. Pokpok.

Hollow sounds from outside the empty classroom, outside the building.

Sakuno finished one braid and started another, unconsciously keeping time.

Raquet, ball, ground, ball, ground, racket.

Right over, left over, right over, left over.

Done.

Braids retied, Sakuno looked out the window. That's right, the tennis team was having their morning practice.

Well, since she was finished, she might as well go watch them. To watch the whole team, not to ogle Ryo—Echizen-kun she reminded herself sternly. She was just going because there wasn't anything else to do.

Right.

And Tezuka-sempai was the Easter Bunny.

She sighed. This forgetting about Ryoma-kun thing was going to be harder than she had anticipated.



She finally made it down to the tennis courts, but only after tripping over her own feet at least three times (she was especially clumsy in the morning). It was with no small relief she grabbed the wire link fence. She began to watch.

There were the regulars. Kawamura, a gentle giant off the court, and a raving juggernaut with a racket in his hand. She was glad his parents had changed their minds and allowed him to continue playing. Inui, his glasses gleaming, always ready to test another foul concoction on his helpless teammates or collect their data. (Well, he called it "collecting data." Sakuno secretly suspected that Inui-sempai was just nosy and a natural eavesdropper.)

Then Eiji, bouncy and fun-loving, with a personality as bright as his vibrant red hair, and whose nonsensical phrases and inexhaustible energy made him seem childlike despite his seventeen years. Oishi, calm and caring, constantly looking out for everyone else in the way that had earned him the nickname Oishi-mama. Fuji, with his frightening, razor-sharp intellect hidden behind an ever-present smile, a sempai of whom Sakuno was both very fond and very afraid.

There was also Kaido, wearing his trademark bandana, whose incredible tenacity and unrelenting work ethic made him respected, and whose terrifying face made him feared. (Although she was ashamed to admit it, Sakuno was still a little scared of him.)

She was definitely not afraid of his rival, however. Momoshiro, or Momochan-sempai, had a mercurial nature: quick to anger and quick to laugh. Her spiky-haired sempai generally had a friendly, easy-going personality, which made him easy to talk to. His fast temper however was always getting him into fights, especially with Kaido. He was also the closest person Ryo—no, Echizen-kun had to a friend.

Finally, Tezuka-sempai, the human personification of the word 'formidable.' Tennis skills at pro level, and an inscrutable poker face that put even Echizen-kun's to shame. And then…there was no one else worth looking at.

No one at all.

And even if there were, she still wouldn't look at him.

The regulars were working on their ball skills in an accuracy drill that she had seen one time before. They were paired off: Inui and Momoshiro, Fuji and Eiji, Oishi and Kaido, Kawamura and Ryo--the boy whom she was busily forgetting. Tezuka-boucho was supervising, his face grim as always.

One of each pair served a ball, while the other smashed it into one of four different baskets. Before they smashed however, they also called out a color. Squinting, Sakuno could see that the stripes on the balls being served were different colors.

Her mouth fell open. They were actually judging in a split second what the color was and then hitting the balls to their according baskets.

She would consider herself lucky if she hit the ball period.

Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through her head. Before she even had time to gasp, it was gone again. Sakuno rubbed her forehead in puzzlement.

That was strange.

She turned back to watch the practice, but found she couldn't concentrate. This time, instead of pain, a foggy softness spread through her brain. It was a light, pleasant feeling. The lightness traveled downward, immersing her entire body.

Go.

Sakuno soon found herself walking, no, more like floating to the entrance gate of the courts. Her gaze locked on a figure wearing a white Fila cap.

Him.

She didn't even remember opening the gate. Now she was walking faster, her body full of purpose. Her mind remained blissfully empty. As she strode past, one by one the regulars halted in their routine, confused by the bold appearance of normally shy Ryuuzaki.

Sakuno however only had eyes for the boy now two feet away.

His deep cat-shaped eyes were wide beneath his cap. His dark hair was messy as ever, and Sakuno again resisted the desire to run her fingers through it, to see whether it was really as soft and fine as it looked, just as she did nearly every time she saw him. He was lean and wiry, no extra fat anywhere, and he radiated confidence, a predator in his natural habitat.

He was so beautiful, and for an instant, Sakuno lost the feeling of airy contentment as she stared at him in wonder and slight despair.

How could she have ever believed he would think of her, that he would look at her? She was a lowly insect: timid, mediocre, and constantly struggling even to be average. He was the sun, effortlessly racing through the stars, so far ahead of her she would never catch up. So far beyond her she would never even touch him.

But then the feeling was back, a mind-numbing fog, relentless and all-consuming.

Now.

Abruptly, she stopped thinking.

Her small hands grasped the collar of his polo shirt. Her eyes slid closed as she stood on tiptoe and gently pressed her lips to his. She could feel the warmth of sun on her eyelids, and feel the fibers of his shirt that she clenched in her hands. The world was sorrow and longing and waiting, waiting, waiting. The world was being invisible, and silences full of secrets too dear to tell even Tomo-chan. The world was Sakuno and the boy she had watched for over three years.

His mouth was soft and warm, and—she smiled slightly—tasted like Grape Ponta. His lips were still passive however, and did not move against hers. Trying to elicit a response she kissed him even more tenderly, the way she had always wanted to. The way they did in the movies, the way she did in her dreams.

But he did not kiss her back.

The feeling fled, slowly replaced by cold. And then she was pulling away, letting go of his shirt, lowering her feet so that her heels touched the ground.

When she looked once more into his eyes the last of the feeling died. They were wide with shock and alarm. Once coherent thought was possible, the cold slithered into the pit of her stomach.

What have I done?

Horrified, she bowed as low as she could. "I-I am so sorry," she stuttered, embarrassed, bewildered, and utterly ashamed of herself. Her mind raced, trying and failing to find a reason for her actions.

And then, another strange feeling.

Her eyes closed. It was as though a wind was blowing through her mind. A rush, and then silence. The wind stopped and Sakuno's eyes opened.

What am I doing on the boys' tennis courts?

And why is everybody staring at me?



A deep silence pervaded the tennis courts. Anxiously Sakuno scanned the regulars, searching for the reason for the unnatural quiet. They just stared back at her solemnly, even Kikumaru-sempai and Momochan-sempai. Fuji-sempai was smiling, but then, he always smiled. Nervously, she turned to the boy in the Fila cap.

Why is Ryoma—no, Echizen-kun—looking at me as though I've sprouted an extra head?

"E-Echizen-kun," she said, trying to sound like merely a concerned classmate. "Are you alright?"

He continued to stare at her in disbelief.

Definitely time to go. "Oh, I've interrupted your practice," she said airily, desperately trying to sound normal. "Sumimasen!"

More blank looks.

Okay, this is getting weird. Sakuno made a show of glancing down at her watch.

"Oh no, I'm late to meet Tomo-chan!" she squeaked, "Sayounara Echizen-kun, sempai-tachi!" and with a quick bow she hurried off.



Vice-captain Oishi rubbed his eyes.

"Eiji, I wasn't seeing things was I? Ryuuzaki-san did actually just kiss Echizen?"

"She did, she did!" said his red-haired partner. He bounced over to the smallest of the regulars. "Nyah, O'chibi, why didn't you tell us you had a girlfriend?!"

"She's not my girlfriend." Ryoma said flatly, tugging the bill of his cap down.

"Hmm? That was a very passionate kiss to be receiving from a non-girlfriend." said Fuji, his smile very bland.

"Indeed," said a clinical voice from behind. Ryoma shivered. Inui's square spectacles glinted as he leaned forward.

"That kiss was not a result predicted by any of my current data on the relationship between you and Ryuzaki-san. So," he paused, pencil poised over his ever-available notepad, "How long have you and Ryuzaki been in a secret relationship?" The regulars quickly clustered around; even Kaido drew nearer, curious in spite of himself.

"Secret relationship?" said Eiji, delightfully scandalized. "You mean you were star-crossed lovers? But then… Oh no! O'chibi, you were going to elope with her?!"

"Elope?" echoed Oishi anxiously. "Echizen, you can't. It'll have serious repercussions on your futures!" Momoshiro and Eiji looked at each other nostalgically. "So young! So young!" they chanted, their grins wicked.

"Ano, I know it's not really any of my business, but I don't think it's a good idea either…" said a sheepish Kawamura. "Demo…" He trailed off uncertainly. Fuji helpfully passed him his racket.

"BURNING! Who cares about the rules! Go get her Echizen!" he roared, pointing his racket at Ryoma.

Or, at least, where Ryoma used to be.

"Oi, Echizen, get back here!" yelled Momoshiro at Ryoma's retreating back. The boy made absolutely no sign he had heard, and continued walking. "That little-!"

BRING!

"Oishi." said Tezuka. Oishi glanced over, startled.

"Ah, hai. That was the bell." he said, addressing the remaining players. "Practice is over. See you in the afternoon everyone!"



"Did you hear?"

"This morning, before school—"

"Do you know what she did?

"—that first year, Ryuzaki Sakuno—"

"She what?"

"No way!"

"Can you believe it?"

"—right on the mouth!"

"How dare she!"

"I never would have guessed—"

'She's so lucky!"

"It's always the quiet ones."

"Do you know what else?"

"—secret relationship?"

"Ever since school started?"

"—but he's so—"

"Ever since their first year of middle school?"

"I know! And she's so—"

"Ever since they were born?"

"Go figure."

"An arranged marriage—"

"How romantic!"

"Ugh, no fair!"

"So that's why she's always—"



Tiled floor. Flourescent lights, bright, unforgiving. Watching, always watching.

Kure Umi, honor student, Secretary of the Ryoma-sama Fan Club, knelt in the cramped stall, staring down into the water of the toilet bowl, forcing down the bile.

Just another job.

It was necessary. Hayakawa-san had been a nuisance. Something had to be done.

And when something had to be done, Umi was the one who did it.

She retched, dry heaves, hard shudders that wracked her entire body. The tremors passed and slowly she got to her feet, her knees shaking. Panting, she unlocked the door of the stall and stumbled over to the nearest sink, nearly knocking the glasses that sat on its rim to the floor. Trembling fingers felt for the tap.

Water rushed out and Umi cupped her hands. She splashed her face, washing away the sticky residue of spit and sweat. Blearily, she glanced up at the mirror.

The girl in the mirror curled her lip, disgusted at the filth. Her eyes were dull and unfocused, her white shirt stained and wrinkled, untucked on one side. Her short dark hair lay wilted and unkempt against sallow skin. Her hands fisted on the rim of the sink, clenching the porcelain so hard her knuckles were white.

Umi turned away, unable to face the girl in the mirror any longer.

She dried her face and hair carefully, methodically. The old shirt was discarded and the new one slipped on. The glasses were returned to their accustomed perch on the bridge of her nose, and the world snapped back into focus. When she looked in the mirror again, only Umi looked back at her.

Just another job.



"—and then I said 'Are you alright?' but he just kept staring at me like I was an idiot," moaned Sakuno as she fiddled with end of one of her braids, her lunch untouched. Next to her, Tomoka winced sympathetically and stole one of Sakuno's sushi.

"Well, you were standing in the middle of their practice," her friend answered practically, popping the sushi into her mouth.

"Beffides, why boffer with details!" she gushed around her mouthful of rice and seaweed, her eyes starry. She clasped her hands together, her expression rapturous as she chewed and swallowed. "Ryoma-sama stared at you! Really stared, with those beautiful golden eyes set in that sinfully gorgeous face. Ahhh, Ryoma-sama…This sushi is really good, by the way."

Sakuno nodded, a little dazed.

"Oh, but wait." Tomoka paused, putting a pensive finger to her chin. "You're not supposed to be talking to Ryoma-sama at all, you're supposed to be getting over him, right?"

"Yes, that's what I told you, Tomo--chan," said Sakuno exasperatedly. Really, her friend had taken the news quite well. It had just taken a while to convince her. Especially as she hadn't exactly mentioned the part about the bento really. Or at all. But after the five hundredth time she said Yes, she really was over Ryoma, and No, she wasn't kidding, Tomo-chan had believed her anyway.

"E-Echizen-kun aside, the thing is…I didn't even know how I had got there!" Sakuno burst out, wringing her braid furiously.

"You didn't know how you got where?" queried her friend.

"There, on the boy's tennis courts! I couldn't remember how I got there." Sakuno explained, her brow furrowed. "One moment I was watching them practice, and the next there I was, right next to Ryo—Echizen-kun."

Tomoko began to nod sagely.

"I know what's going on," she said wisely.

"You-you do?" asked Sakuno hopefully.

"Yes. You, Ryuuzaki Sakuno…" she paused for dramatic effect, "are suffering from Ryoma-sama Withdrawal!" Sakuno stared at her friend, more than a little afraid for her sanity.

"Um, Tomo-ch—" she began, but Tomoka would brook no refusals.

"You had to see him, even though you had promised yourself that you would never lay eyes on him again! You just couldn't help yourself!" Tomoka roared, pointing her finger at Sakuno in righteous fury. While Tomoka took a moment to breathe, Sakuno cut in, trying to set her straight.

"Tomo-chan, I think it is a little more complica—" but Tomoka just brushed her off with a toss of her pigtails. Sakuno opened her mouth to try again, but her friend rushed on.

"I know you are in denial, it's only natural," said Tomoka magnanimously. "But don't worry Sakuno," she cried passionately, grabbing Sakuno's hands and holding them tightly in her own. "As your best friend it is my sworn duty to help you with your rehabilitation."

"Rehabilitation?!" sputtered Sakuno, starting to get a bit irritated. "Tomo-chan, it's not like I'm—a-addicted to him or anything!" Tomoka raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you?" she asked, suddenly serious. "Three years you've waited for him. Three years." The comment stung more than Sakuno wanted to admit. She opened her mouth angrily, but Tomoka beat her to it.

"I know. I'm the one in his fan club, right?" Sakuno closed her mouth. Tomoka watched her friend closely and continued to speak, her voice earnest. "But it's different for me Sakuno. I know how to protect myself. But you, you need to be more selfish and think of yourself first. If you don't, you'll just end up running in circles and feeling guilty."

Sakuno looked down.

Tomoka smiled. "Besides, then you can move on and finally get a boyfriend! Like that boy in our English class who's always staring at you. What was his name again? Tokumo? No. To…To…Tobishi! He's cute; you would look sooo good together." Her eyes sparkled dangerously. Sakuno drew back, red with embarrassment.

"But I barely know Tobishi-san!" she protested. Tomoka flapped her hand dismissively.

"That doesn't matter. In fact," she mused, "it's probably even better."

"Tomo-chan!" Sakuno admonished half-heartedly, giggling in spite of herself.

"It'll be easier to nab him before he knows your faults. Of course," she said, giving Sakuno a critical once-over, "you'll have to sex it up a bit."

"S-s-sex—?!"

"You know, flirt, wear some make up, show a little—"

"Tomo-chan!"



A scruffy monk lay, perfectly at ease, sprawled across the floor of the Echizen residence. His attire was definitely the worse for wear, worn at the knees and elbows, the cloth a dull, dirty brown with threads escaping the hemlines every which way.

This monk was also rather messy; currently he was inhaling udon noodles, and when he stopped to chew, invariably some stray noodles hung out of the corner of his mouth, limp and bedraggled. But what really would have sent any true worshiper into hysterics was the monk's face.

It was tanned and fairly young, but the chin was lazy and unshaven, covered in a constant 5 o'clock shadow. His mouth was lecherous, his brow arrogant, and his eyes were dark pools of merry sin.

A door slid, open and closed.

The unruly monk perked up, smirking in a manner most unholy.

"Oi, shonen," he called out to the person by the door. "How was school?"

"Fine." Ryoma replied curtly. He made a beeline for the stairs. The monk's grin widened.

"You running away already? Yesterday's game too much for you?" he needled provokingly.

"Homework," was the only reply. Ryoma escaped upstairs.

White walls, tidy shelves, a made bed, clear floor. If Echizen Ryoma liked one thing, it was order. Order was dependable, order was understandable. He slept, he ate, he played tennis. That was life how he liked it. The strange, unexplainable, and downright weird events of this morning had no place in his structured life, so they did not perturb him.

Not one bit.

He did his homework, he played and lost his tennis video game again (it wasn't his fault his player couldn't serve), he played one match with the baka oyaji, he ate dinner, he bathed, he played with Karupin, he got into bed.

In his bed, he stared out the window, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that his well-ordered life was about to get a lot messier.

But, being Echizen Ryoma, he then rolled over and promptly went to sleep.

--

Huzzah for the end of another chapter! Thanks again for reading. :) Questions? Comments? You know what to do! ;)

Next time: In which there is an awful lot of gossip.

Japanese Words

Sumimasen: Excuse me, sorry

Sempai: upperclassman

Sempai-tachi: upperclassmen

O'chibi: shorty, squirt

Ano: um, well

Demo: but

Gomen: sorry, my bad

Shonen: boy

Baka oyaji: stupid old man