Greetings and salutations, readers and new readers alike.
I do apologise for the months of hiatus.
Some of you who follow my tumblr blog might be aware that I was gone for so long due to intensive job training. Yes, it lasted for months and by far the longest course for those who're in the same job position. The responsibility and expectation that's dumped on my back, the stress and dread of getting assessed and criticised. It's a roller coaster ride at best. But all in all, it was an experience of a lifetime.
Now that I'm back, I hope to get back to the same routine. Can't promise much since I'm returning to work on Monday.
Thank you. And thank you very much to those who stuck with me until today. To new readers, I extend a warm welcome. To the reviewers, I am forever grateful of your support. It moves me this story's still being read. I hope this story is still enjoyable.
Right, sorry for getting emotional here (haha)
Here's what you've all been waiting for! Enjoy!
14th November
Friday
It felt as if a brick had struck the back of his head this sudden realisation.
Kirihara stopped dead in his tracks as his face paled. His hands worked frantically as they patted up and down the Rikkai tracksuit, fumbled inside pockets and dove deep into accessible. He was hopping from one foot another. Pieces of his nerves broke apart as the search turned futile by the seconds.
He could easily give up, but he needed it desperately...
...His treasure trove of games and manga was at stake.
"Kirihara-kun, your hand please," a calm feminine voice said, ending the otherwise peculiar dance.
Kirihara blinked owlishly, puzzled. At her stern gaze, he tentatively lowered one of his hands buried underneath his mangle of hair.
Lo and behold...
...a tiny box fell onto his outstretched hand.
Green eyes widened to the size of platters in astonishment.
That was it!
Kirihara broke into an ecstatic grin, barrels of gratitude on the verge of spilling out. He whipped his head up, mouth opening – but was promptly cut off before he could make a single noise.
"Save your thanks for your sister," the manageress rectified, lazing waving a hand. "She left the eye-drop knowing fully well that last-minute packing will cause this oversight."
Blood rushed to his cheeks.
Trust his dearest sister to tattle.
As he seethed quietly over Kirihara Erisa, his face red, Akemi was reminded of the beautiful fireworks display of autumnal colours around her.
It was a pleasant Mid-November afternoon to see the regulars off at Kawasaki Bus Station. Their transport, a small coach sent from the camp, sat waiting in its designated pick-up/drop-off point. Standing off at one side, the noirette had been bidding goodbyes and sending goodwill when she noticed Kirihara who was last in line was in distressed.
Between relief and irk, the first year thanked his manageress all the same.
"Just remember to use the recommended dosage according," Akemi advised, tapping her finger at the label. "If in doubt, ask Yanagi-san or one of your roommates. I hope they're a reliable bunch," she muttered rapidly in an undertone Kirihara didn't catch. Bringing her hands to her hips, she added exasperatedly, "And for Pete's sake and yours, don't lose it."
Kirihara nodded feverishly. His winter holiday would be ruined if Erisa confiscated his precious collection – and that included his Playstation and Nintendo DS.
Satisfied with this at least, Akemi continued cautioning the boy against neglecting important things like studies and five-a-day. The first year might be a bit of a glutton (several notches better than Marui thankfully), he's a picky eater at best.
Three minutes in, she was noticing the constant flickering of eyes to the bus and the fidgety stance. His inattentiveness – short-lived as it were –wasn't by all means disrespectful.
He was simply anxious to get on the bus.
Akemi sighed resignedly, "Go if you must."
The first year protested with much fervour. A quick shove on the back sent him stumbling awkwardly towards the bus. He caught himself in time before he could trip over the steps. Regardless of the luck, his dignity as a man withered like the carpet of dried leaves around the base of the gingko trees.
Had he lost his balance...
Shaking off that gruesome image, Kirihara glanced over his shoulder with terror-filled eyes and was stumped to see her waving cheerfully at him. He returned the gesture, albeit in a less enthusiastic manner. "T-take care, senpai."
"You too," the manageress beamed, as if nothing happened. "Anything at all, just drop me a text. I'll do the best I can. If it's swaying their opinion on that matter though – well tough, luck. Affairs involving the U-17 camp are out of my hands."
When a regular step onto the court, they represent both team and school. Naturally, there came a need to establish a few austerity measures (receiving many disobliged outcries) to ensure their reputation wouldn't get tarnished by nitwits. Those who did otherwise would suffer severe repercussions as lovingly promised by the vice-captain. It's not 100% fail-safe according to Marui. Akemi didn't want to hear what mischiefs occurred in the past. She was certain they were almost as eventful as those at school.
Kirihara scowled. "I suppose it can't be helped."
Seeing him disheartened, Akemi felt a stab of guilt. She grinned brightly. "Do the team proud, I'm sure he'll soften up." Her encouragement received much scepticism. "Talk to Yanagi-san as a last resort."
He nodded hesitantly but otherwise agreed. He was finally allowed to go after one last piece of advice.
Breathing a small sigh, the manageress watched him totter down the narrow passage to his seat. Her pensive eyes clouded over.
Strange...
...was he always that tall?
"Akemi-san," greeted a gruff voice.
She turned around to greet its owner with polite curiosity.
The vice-captain's face was twisted into a dark scowl, causing him to appear more intimidating with the added bulk of muscles and the shadow of his cap's visor falling over his eyes. Back stiff, hands in pockets and shoulders squared, he seemed extremely tensed as if bracing for an impending assault.
But Akemi spent far too long (detrimental effects on health: plausible) in the presence of him and Atobe to know better...
...to recognise the symptoms in a heartbeat.
Like the team's youngest regular, Sanada was roiled with restlessness, except he was making a huge effort bottling it up. Challenges, intense rivalries and the general adrenaline rush – he'd been looking forward to this day since the invitation letter arrived more than anyone else in the team...
Akemi recalled the times she witnessed the indefatigable young man practising at school and (out of concern) the neighbourhood clubhouse into the late hours.
...perhaps surpassing their captain.
Looking far more at ease, Yanagi gave a small nod of acknowledgement. His eyebrows gave a discreet twitch. Glancing between Akemi and the bus, he remembered seeing Kirihara and her together moments before they arrived.
Everything clicked.
Akemi blinked at him in puzzlement when he rested hand on her shoulder.
"Akaya is in good hands, Akemi-san. And we'll keep a close eye on everyone in the team." Yanagi spoke with a placid smile. He titled his head towards her. "Your other end needs your support just as much."
There was a moment pause.
A smirk tugged at her lips. "I can imagine you were all worried about him when he was captain." Kirihara once boasted his position to the astounded noirette.
Sanada dismissed such farcical notion with a scoff.
"We were more concerned with the state of the club," he muttered snippily, folding his arms staidly, "the reputation and everything that was built on our blood and sweat. I lost counts on the number of times we had to step in."
Akemi hummed ponderingly. "I'm sure he –" her gaze slid to the corners of her eyes and easily found the Rikkai captain, who was conversing with the bus driver outside the station's door, " – would have picked somebody else if he didn't trust Kirihara-kun's capabilities. Well, to an extent," she added as an afterthought. "And you too, Genichiro-san," she returned a smirk at him.
"Humph! At least the boy's keen," he rumbled gruffly and later added in a slightly low voice, "He did a good job." Catching sight of the triumphant glint in her eyes, he coughed into his fist. "More importantly, will you be fine?"
All humour was instantly wiped off her face.
This again?
Exasperated, Akemi rubbed the bridge of her noise. "Genichiro-san, we've been through this." Plenty of times in fact. "It's not like I can't find my way to school every morning. I did promise to take the bus after club activities." Because it'd be dark by then.
When the vice-captain remained unconvinced, she looked to Yanagi for help...
...the helpful gesture she received was a mere shrug.
Akemi resisted a shriek of frustration. Pulling the sleeve up her wrist, she lifted her left arm.
"Worry nothing, I have this."
XXX
Last night
"A watch?"
With the gift box set aside, Akemi examined the curious timepiece in her grip. Turning it around, the platinum (as told by the proud voice) casing and the sapphire crystal glass glinted brilliantly in the streetlight.
On the surface, it looked fairly modest in terms of design.
The clock face told a different story.
Her eyes flickered from the various superfluous displays (star chart and moon phase to name a few; compass she could overlook) artistically arranged behind the polished glass, to the rotating gears – the muscles of the timepiece.
It was a great artistic masterpiece in its own right.
"You can't find this anywhere in the market as I had it made from scratch," Atobe gloated, basking in glorious smugness stemming from her awestruck expression. "Don't let the appearance fool you. It has built-in smartwatch features." Bending over to close the gap, he pointed at one of the three sapphire faceted crowns jutting out from the side of the case. "With a push, it'll trigger ..."
Far more interested on a mind-boggling conundrum that had cropped up, Akemi soon tuned out of the Hyotei captain's rambling.
" – flawless in design, ingenious in functionality!"
Atobe swept a hand through his dark hair with finesse, confidence brimming from that haughty smirk alone. A ferocious fire burnt in those blue eyes as he looked at her with rampant anticipation. "Well?"
Isn't it?
"It is pretty."
Ego gained momentum. His chest puffed out. "Without a doubt, I have excellent tastes in –"
"But I don't think this watch suits you." Engrossed on the watch, Akemi was unaware of the pair of gawking eyes. She scrunched her eyebrows, contemplating. "For one thing, the design looks too feminine. Perhaps the delivery man got the wrong address? It is commo –"
"THAT. IS. FOR. YOU."
Akemi glanced up at the purple-faced captain.
"...eh?"
XXX
"It will reassure me if you wear it."
The proud Hyotei captain never gave her another reason apart from that.
His words echoing inside her head, Akemi had one credible theory. Her encounter with Murakami Yasuaki at the park must have sparked several horrific suppositions. What if the karate captain turned out to have another malicious agenda? What if something dreadful happened? What if he didn't make it in time – or dismissed her text?
What then?
Reflecting on the Hyotei captain's act of kindness, her expression softened. Atobe had patiently gone through great lengths to explain the watch's functions once again, but with an abashed Akemi listening attentively.
She held out her hand to the curious eyes. "A gift from the Hyotei captain."
Startled by the information, Sanada's head snapped up so fast it left a lingering pain across the back of his neck.
"It works just like those safety alarm devices, except niftier." Just as it was done before, she gestured at the sapphire crowns. "A trigger of a button will sound the alarms in the Atobe security systems and send the emergency services flying in a flash."
There were many more possibilities with this highly-responsive tactile watch. Since they were – umm...running out of time – as it were, she didn't want to complicate things unnecessarily with the technologically challenged vice-captain around.
Leaning forward, Yanagi studied the timepiece closely with overt intrigue. "Marvellous. Atobe-san made a wise choice. The watchmaker is highly regarded amongst several European airforces."
Ah. Atobe did mention that his father was a pilot in the Japan Air Service Self-Defense Force for four years before becoming a CEO. Was that how the Atobe family had close connection with this company? To the point a watch could be easily made on request?
Akemi mused.
Sanada's furrowed brows carved gorges deep as the Mariana Trench across his forehead. He met her unwavering gaze of silent entreaty just as stubbornly. There was a long tensed silence between them until one of them yielded with a half-hearted grunt.
"I suppose if it's from Atobe," he scrupled, "then you'll be fine."
Akemi ought to be dancing in joy. Instead, her mouth had fallen open in utter disbelief. "Did you just...praise your rival?"
"I did no such thing."
His curt reply roused a few giggles. As luck would have it, Sanada was saved from a good ribbing by the appearance of their captain.
Calm and dignified (as usual), Yukimura strolled towards them, leaving the driver to check over their luggage. The bright yellow and black jersey hanging from his shoulders fluttered majestically like a war banner (as usual).
'He's not even about to play a match. Why the cape?' Akemi wryly remarked.
Yukimura stopped in front of the three. "Coach is ready to leave."
Joviality in the atmosphere faded away to the jangle of metal. There was no pomp and circumstance, nor was it drearily sombre as the keys to the clubroom and tennis courts were handed over to the manageress.
Akemi dropped her gaze to the keys nestled between her hands.
"There's no need to look downcast."
A voice broke through her thoughts.
She found a pair of enigmatic slate-blue eyes, with a hint of warmth behind them, gazing at her.
"It's only a little more than a month. We'll be back before you know it." Yukimura gave her an assuring grin.
"...who's looking downcast?" Akemi retorted coldly, glowering. "And what's with the assumption? I'm ecstatic to have this much needed break from you lot." She regretted opening her mouth, realising that her harsh words had just disparaged another benevolent act. Averting her gaze ruefully, she scratched at a non-existing itch plaguing her cheek. "I'll look after the club and keep the keys safe."
The revving of engine cut off any attempts at furthering their conversation.
Sanada dove into a prolix speech, shoving a scrap of paper containing the emergency hotlines (as if she didn't know it by heart now) and the neighbourhood watch's number (really) into her hands. He didn't trust technology to the end, Akemi surmised. Yanagi was kind enough to steer his attention away to the escalating rambunctious din from the coach.
Without a second thought, Sanada turned sharply on his heels and stormed away. Yanagi, bearing a not-so-reassuring calmness, was close behind.
Akemi inhaled deeply, but the sigh was caught sharply in her throat when a hand came to rest on her shoulder.
At least Yukimura had the decency to appear contrite. "I apologise; didn't mean to frighten you." Taking in the ghostly pale manageress, he gave a sheepish chuckle. "I don't suppose these African daisies can mellow the atmosphere a bit."
Doe-eyed, the noirette carefully accepted the modest bouquet into her hands. "They're beautiful," she admitted after a few moments of stunned silence. She caressed the petals, already loving the warm shade of orange. "Thank you..." She tore away from the generous gift, frowning with frustrated befuddlement. "But...why?"
"It's an early thank-you gift for taking over all the club responsibilities while we're away."
"Not all," Akemi was swift to correct. "Drawing up the training menu definitely isn't mine. I think you're being overly generous with me. As manageress I am accountable for every aspect of the club as much as you do. It's only natural I do my job right. And I'll stress this again. I'm doing this at my own discretion."
"I'm delighted to hear that." His slate-blue eyes twinkled playfully in the weakening light. "That said, Akemi-san." He held out a hand. "Can I trust you even a little?"
"Have a little faith in me."
Akemi had entreated him after the resignation confusion was cleared.
What an incredible man...
"I solemnly swear," Akemi deadpanned, taking the proffered hand and shook it regardless.
Yukimura chuckled. Her dry (often mordant) sense of humour was always charming.
They pulled away.
Akemi's attention was drawn to the lingering warmth on her skin.
"We'll keep in touch." Yukimura tugged his jersey closer around his shoulders and turned around with a halfway glance over his shoulder. "Don't hesitate to call me if there's any problem." He smiled brightly once more before heaving himself onto the coach.
As the door hissed to a close behind the bright yellow jersey, Akemi realised with a jolt of comprehension that he had meant it as an order.
And a stern one at that.
Really though...
She waved at the regulars by the windows with her one free hand as the coach pulled away from the parking lot. Fumes from the exhaust trailed after the vehicle, swirling in the air like black ribbons.
...What could possibly go wrong?
XXX
Hinata Chitose, class vice-president of 2-B, paused in sweeping the floor to stare across the classroom. Behind the wide-framed glasses, her amethyst eyes blinked incredulously.
"You came to school early?"
7 O'clock sharp to be precise!
Humming a merry tune, her friend nodded.
"So this makes it the..." Hinata faltered, dreading.
"Sixth time in a row!" Akemi finished with a rather misplaced chirrup. Behind the teacher's table, she stood between two stacks of books, rearranging them according to student numbers before they were sent off to the chemistry lab.
That's right.
A week had passed since the send-off at the bus station.
Recollecting her composure, she gave her glasses a small push. "I would have thought you're happier getting up later since morning practices are temporarily suspended." Hinata understood that her friend's a heavy sleeper. "Seems like the contrary."
A few in their classes had recently noticed the delirious vibe.
Akemi's shoulders gave the tiniest twitch of a shrug, distracted by the clutter before her. "Coming early has its benefits."
For the past few months, getting up for morning practice early had been the norm. Falling back to sleep after waking before the alarm's due to ring was unbearable. It was either lay fully awake in bed doing nothing (appealing as it was), or do something more productive like depart for school.
More writing, she discovered, could be done efficiently in the early morning when her mind was still clear (surprisingly for a heavy sleeper) and yet to be obnubilated by information.
And there were a lot to be done.
It was a hard decision to make. Overhauling the original storyline was a silly idea after all. But after reading through the general outlines she made for version two, Yukimura and her editor approved of it to her surprise. The new concept wouldn't be so different from its original that it's unrecognisable, but certainly enough to occupy her time.
Sensing Hinata's questioning stare, Akemi inwardly winced.
The class vice-president wasn't aware of the contract with Classic Mori Publishing, or her long-time aspiration to be a novelist. Akemi possessed a self-conscious attitude towards that subject that not even her parents knew.
Yukimura?
She needed a confederate.
"Oh, you know," Akemi waved a hand vaguely, shifting her eyes to the windows. "The cycling lane is less busy if I leave early. I can get to school easier and faster that way. Also, less chances of mowing down people with my bicycle," she laughed as if ridiculing herself.
It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth either; not to Hinata's query at least. She wasn't inclined to divulge even if her friend was the chaste and loyal type. Her heart clenched with guilt. Akemi quickly smothered it and plastered a grin, inwardly praying that it would throw her off her case.
A troubled expression crossed her features. "I'm sorry for being presumptuous."
Akemi shrugged away the apology. "I know it seems out of character of me. Trust me the early mornings are the best. Just not the getting out of bed part," she chuckled, lightening up the bleak mood that had debauched the room.
Giggling, Hinata resumed sweeping. "How are you coping without the regulars? It must be quiet during club activities."
Surely, you miss them.
Furrowing her brows, Akemi pondered. After repeatedly coming home from extended practice late at night feeling absolutely shattered and starving for the fridge, she was definitely happier working at her own luxury. Moreover, she didn't have to deal with their galling antics.
All the same, she couldn't help but worry.
"It is only natural," Hinata smiled gently after the noirette voiced her concern. "They're training really hard under unforgiving circumstances. A number of them, who lost their first match, were dumped in the mountains on day one. Yagyuu-san said it was survival training. They were duped into thinking that it was a doubles match. Imagine pairing up with your friend only to be forced into playing against each other in a tie-breaker elimination match." She grimaced, her heart going out for the regulars. "Bit on the harsh side isn't it?"
There was a brief pause.
"That's not it."
Hinata raised a puzzled eyebrow.
A surly expression cast a shadow over her features. "I've been hearing stories from an anonymous source (a certain pompous captain)." Akemi dug her fingernails into the book she had in her hands. Her stomach churned at the grisly thoughts fleeting across her mind. She drew a deep breath. "Those idiots, they're terrorising the other participants in camp with their madness." She shook her head. "I shudder to think what horrors those poor wee souls are enduring right this moment."
Unsure how to comment, Hinata chuckled uneasily.
Akemi heaved a forlorn sigh and gazed up the ceiling.
"I should have burnt that letter."
XXX
Next day
21st November
"That's all from the teachers' office today, Ueda-san."
There was a brief clatter as the courier secured the cardboard box onto his cart. Akemi had labelled it clearly on the top, ready to be picked up by one of U-17's staff. The contents were nothing short of the usual; reading lists, lesson handouts and a day's worth of homework (graded and new).
At Rikkai, extra curriculum and academics were deemed equally imperative in building a solid foundation for higher education (Yagyuu had once cordially reminded). Just because special permissions gave them allowance to be absent from class for a month, didn't mean any of them should lag behind their fellow classmates. Plus, they needed to take next month's winter exam into account. The school wouldn't sign the consent form unless the regulars verbally vowed to uphold their responsibility.
Speaking of responsibilities...
Brown eyes shifted to the bustling scene below the embankment at her feet.
So far Akemi hadn't encounter difficulties she couldn't handle. She had the Big Three to thank. There was no way she'd have conceived the training menus even if she did her damnedest. Resolved to ease their burden, she had been sending comprehensive daily club reports via email.
Akemi stepped back, giving space for Ueda Shinichi as he rose to his full height.
Bringing his messenger bag around, he produced an A3-sized brown envelope. "From your captain."
Akemi cocked her head. She had expected paperwork to sign.
But...
...this?
Uttering her thanks, she took the package. Her eyes fell upon her name, fashioned in the elegant cursive style that Yukimura favoured. She carefully broke the seal and peeked inside. Her features lit up with delight. Hugging the envelope to her chest, she glanced up with eager eyes. "Ueda-san, can you please pass an item to him? It won't be heavy, I promise."
"Sure," Ueda responded with a bemused lilt.
"Thanks! I won't be long."
Akemi wheeled around and ran down the stairs, skipping one or two at a time. Those she passed on the way to the clubroom paused to stare at her ecstatic grin.
Couple of minutes later, she returned with another brown envelope in her arms, gasping heavily for air. With all the excitement, she seemed to have forgotten to drop Yukimura's package off. Hers was smaller at A4 size, and although it's bulkier, the contents weren't shoulder-popping heavy as promised.
Package in his possession, Ueda bowed and took his leave. The wheels clattered noisily as he pushed the box cart down the path.
Akemi turned her back against the retreating figure. It was a coincidence that they would exchange their works. During the early stages of planning, they had decided to review each other's work – his illustrations and her drafts – and work at their own pace. She was quite adamant that a fixed date would only induce unnecessary strain on his tight schedule.
There was a small note inside the envelope.
Akemi-san,
I hope this package finds you well.
There are four paintings here ready for your good judgement. I had a delightful time drawing them.
I'm glad I've decided to ask you for that initial draft. It's hard to capture the emotions and intents without detailed descriptions. I do hope my paintings do your excellent writing justice.
Please choose wisely though. Aihara-san said the printing department can only squeeze a few into your book due to costs.
Yours truly,
Yukimura Seiichi.
...your book...
Hers
Imagine the shelves in bookstores filled with the books she wrote!
Akemi quivered with excitement. Never did she envision herself getting a book published at this age. The reality was almost too good to be true. She shook her head furiously, berating herself for getting carried away. She pulled the sheets – torn from a sketchbook – and let out a gasp.
Art was not her expertise. But that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate the work that went behind each pieces and the exquisite details. Studying the grainy outlines and colours dabbing over each page, she could almost hear the faint scratching of graphite and strokes of brush, as if Yukimura was working beside her.
Then there was the colouring.
Boldly spread across the pages in an unusual style.
Akemi had seen some of the odd watercolour paintings with his initials on display in the library. Bleak and gloom were certainly not one she would associate with the amity and warmth of a friendly neighbour.
It worked out well in the end though, albeit in a morbid manner.
In all four of his paintings, the same girl was depicted with her travelling companion, an eagle-owl, as they threaded across unknown lands. She was draped in a long travelling cloak, hooded or pulled down to reveal black wavy tresses framing her slightly gaunt features. Life was hard on her, even so after the unfortunate deaths of her foster parents.
Fear, insecurity and loneliness – all locked away in her tired eyes. But there was a hint of fire as the Princess stared back with those brown eyes.
Eyes that looked...
Her skin crawled.
...familiar.
"Senpai!"
Akemi jumped with fright and looked down to the shameless source.
Standing at the foot of the steps was Urayama, his head tilted back and hands cupped beside his mouth. Blissfully unaware of the startle given, he shouted, "Group C and E's warm-up rounds have ended! They're asking what's next!"
Group C and E?
Comprehension dawned on her.
Inching closer to the embankment's edge, Akemi scanned the courts below and found the eight guys hovering at the edges of court A and B.
They were visibly growing restless from the prolonged wait, some pacing back and forth, others switching the racquet from hand to another – or generally chewing on their thumbs. When she was caught looking, racquets were promptly thrust into the air and waved enthusiastically. Her name echoed in dissonance around the court, urging her to hurry back.
Akemi cast a longing glance at the paintings for a moment. She wanted to explore them in deeper details, but duties laid waiting for (directly below) her. Lips parted with a defeated sigh. Tucking the paintings back, she slipped the envelope under an arm and made her way down the stairs despondently.
Bzz Bzz
Slowing to a halt at the bottom, Akemi glanced down at her vibrating watch in puzzlement. Via the power of Bluetooth connection between phone and watch, the clock face was almost entirely obscured by the holographic projection of an alert:
King has sent an image.
Puzzled, Akemi fished her phone out from the skirt's pocket. Sure enough, a similar message was on the screen. The noirette had a good guess in her head way before the picture appeared. It was practically oozing haughtiness through the glass. His hand aloft over his temples and fingers spread out in his favourite pose, lips curved into that roguish sneer, royal blue eyes capturing the glow of a late autumnal sun.
Another victory.
A small smile tugged at her lips. She reminisced.
It became customary to expect a call from Atobe every night at 9pm sharp. When he's not asking after her, the conversation would stray into tennis sooner or later, getting swept away by his own tales of triumphs and achievements. Draining to bear through the whole thing, Akemi found it rather sweet of him to be concerned though.
'Just like a doting aunt,' she giggled noiselessly, sending a message congratulating him on another win. His ego would sure balloon to the highest atmosphere much to the exasperation of his teammates. If it'd boost his moral, Akemi was certain they wouldn't mind...with a bit of luck.
Envelope in bag, she left the clubroom for the courts...
...heart feeling lighter.
XXX
The days came and went quickly.
Without morning practices, her book's progress was decent. Her favourite place to work was of course the rooftop garden. At this particularly time of year though, it's not particularly a nice place to sit around for an hour early in the morning. Light from the rising sun barely broke through the clouds and often, she had to rely on the odd stout garden lamps scattered about.
Akemi wasn't daunted by the scarcity of light and bone-chilling air. The quiescence of the garden suited her, both as a working environment and a place to clear her head of frustrations and jumble of thoughts with aimless strolls along the paths.
Motivation was one thing. Confidence was another.
The steady flow of feedbacks and support from Yukimura and her editor heartened the noirette to write more diligently. Akemi needed the drive, especially on moments when she hit a roadblock.
She remained a familiar face to see in the library after school. With Kirihara gone, tutoring session's replaced with more writing. Tucked away in a corner, occupying the same seat beside the windows, Akemi would scribble away in her journal – if not fume over homework.
Ueda would come to pick up the box. Three or four days between, there might be a pleasant package for her. It's absolutely wasteful not to have all his brilliant artwork published. At least the company granted the liberty to choose, he'd once reasoned.
Bah!
Pausing in her reading, Akemi took in the activities spread around courts. The atmosphere seemed peaceful amidst the adrenaline rush and tense matches around her.
Really though, who could blame them?
They endured enough under the Three Monsters' scrutiny, stringent rules and ruthless penalties to last their entire high school. The training menus the manageress read out each day were forever gruelling. Akemi swore to be honest in her reports. The least she could do was tone down the number of laps and push-ups, and replace 'Inui Juice' with 'staying behind to clean-up with the first years'.
As for her?
Akemi returned her attention to peruse the booklet in hand.
It's as Hinata said...
...she took their absence in stride.
XXX
26th November
Wednesday
With an almighty judder, the wheels of the ivory carriage screeched to a halt.
The door was thrown open. A hand – too spindly for its inhumane enormous size – shot out and grabbed onto her wrist.
Yugao bit down the hiss of pain as it hauled her from the seat and out onto the cobbled street. Staggering, she regained her balance and straightened up. Her eyes fell on the quaint and humble chapel where the carriage stopped outside its gates.
Fear instantly gripped her heart.
"Noda Akemi?"
An ancient castle stood away in the distance behind the chapel. Owned by the greedy Viscount, it loomed over all. And like all things existing within the boundary of this small town, nothing escaped the sinister and ravenous shadows thrown by the dark castle. Her skin prickled at the sight of its jagged parapets – and it wasn't cold.
The chapel's bell tolled, resonating eerily in the still afternoon. Trees shuddered as squawking birds, startled from their nests, took into the air.
Voices in their thousands filled her head with whispers, pressing her
to
run?
"Noda Akemi?"
Suddenly, she was lurching forward. Face contorted in a wince, the Princess tottered after the guard who insisted on lugging her towards the chapel like some oversized ragdoll. She daren't stop, conscious of the pointed end of the second guard's spear aimed at her back where her heart pounded wildly.
One of the castle's maids was waiting by the entrance, visibly terrified as the guards approached. She wordlessly shoved a bouquet of flowers into her hands.
Yugao dropped her gaze to the bouquet.
"Noda Akemi-san?"
Their bright petals seemed to scorn her fate.
"Noda-san?"
With a start, a pair of burlywood eyes snapped open.
Groggily picking up her head a little, Akemi surveyed the room through droopy eyes. She couldn't make sense of her surroundings, only that she must have fallen asleep in the armchair. Her head felt like it was shrouded in a dense fog, unwilling to part until a rather loud cough nearby dispersed vapours.
Akemi's gaze slowly rose from the pair of blood red stilettos to the scowling face.
A woman late in her twenties stood before her, wearing a smile that didn't quite reach the judging eyes. It certainly wasn't there a couple of seconds ago. She was merely putting up a front for the sake of politeness.
"Noda Akemi-san, I presume?" she asked in a clipped voice, extending a hand which Akemi awkwardly shook. "Welcome to Rikkai University's Careers Service department." Waving an arm to indicate the closed door on their left, her well-manicured nails flashed in the fluorescent lights. "Shall we?"
Akemi stared at the door with a blank expression. A quick glance at the raised eyebrow, she reluctantly rose from the comfortable armchair.
Her legs protested in fervour.
How long had she been sitting there?
Hugging the clipboard and notebook to her stomach, she trailed after the woman several steps behind. Barely registering the woman's voice, the noirette studied her surroundings. A couple of high school students, looking rather self-conscious in their uniforms, were among the few university students lingering between the rows of bookshelves and magazine racks, while others were hunched over the computers.
She glanced around the reception room with renewed interest.
'Rikkai University Careers Service...'
Twice an academic year, a weeklong campus-wide careers event would be held. Usually restricted to the all staff and university students, the university had opened their doors for the benefits of Rikkai's secondary students. Although the high school department has a careers counsellor whose elusive office lurked behind the history (a subject Akemi preferred to stay away from, even physically) section, it lacked a dedicated team of experts.
Not saying Mrs. Osaki doesn't do a brilliant job (she was told). The whole experience's different when they could sit through a session and hold enlightening discussions with a specially-trained counsellor. With that in mind, Akemi had decided to pop in for a visit.
Falling asleep while waiting for her turn wasn't part of the plan.
The counsellor held the door as she entered the office. Some posters plastered on the walls, desk and swivel chair tucked into one corner, two armchairs between a round coffee table – nothing fancy really.
Her stomach gave a strange twinge when the door behind her swung to a close. It felt puzzlingly close to a premonition. She brushed it aside. Her grip around the clipboard and notebook unwittingly strengthened.
"Have you completed the registration form?" came the question.
"Yes."
'Fortunately.'
"Excellent." Taking the clipboard from her, the counsellor plopped down in front of the computer and started to type rapidly. "Please take a seat." She gestured without removing her eyes from the screen.
"Thanks –"
Horror struck.
What's her name?
Did the woman mention it at some point before they came in? The noirette's in hot water if that was so. Akemi undoubtedly left enough bad impressions as it were.
There was no need for more.
Sinking into the armchair, she prayed the furniture would suck her into a different dimension.
Akemi snuck a peek over to the computer. The woman – Scarlet or whatever – was on the phone while inputting her details on the computer. Struggling not to move much in the seat, she glanced warily around, probing any corners visible...
...but came up with nothing helpful – much to her frustration.
A muttered curse slipped from her tongue.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Scarlet queried, pushing back the wheelie chair with a clatter.
Whether it was feigned ignorance or genuine bemusement, the noirette didn't want to risk it as the counsellor settled down in the armchair opposite her and giving her a funny look.
"Please excuse me," Akemi chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. "Think I might be catching a cold." To demonstrate it beautifully, Akemi stifled a 'sneeze' on the back of her hand. Lips twitched in an apologetic smile. "The weather you know; does your body no good."
Scarlet leaned an inch back.
Akemi suppressed rolling her eyes.
Talk about subtlety.
"I see," Scarlet quipped, eyeing her warily as though she was the plague incarnate. "Here," she grabbed the tissue box from her desk and tossed it, "you better hold onto this." Astonishment flashed in her eyes when a hand flew up and expertly caught the box.
The noirette didn't even flinch.
"Thanks!" Akemi grinned, splendiferously smug, and dabbed her dry nose with a tissue.
Every living moment while her feet were touching the ground of the tennis court, there's a high risk of getting hit by a stray ball. As it had a tendency to leave several minutes of agony, catching by hand was always the last option. Evasion was more often used compared to hitting the balls back with her hardy clipboard.
She giggled inwardly.
What used to affront her, the boys around her would scamper in panic. They hadn't quite forgotten the first time she picked up a racquet.
Clearing her throat, Scarlet straightened her back against the chair. "Right, let's get down to business," she put on a professional tone, "as the receptionist briefed, this session will last for twenty minutes." Her long fingers curled around the wooden top of an hourglass that stood on the edge of the coffee table. "It begins...now." She tipped the hourglass upside down. "I have briefly read through your form, but I would like to hear from you personally. Have you thought of what you're going to do in the future, Noda-san?"
"Of course," Akemi replied absently, fascinated by the ribbon of sand trickling down the hourglass. With tremendous effort, she eventually tore her eyes away. Setting the tissue box beside the hourglass, she brought her notebook to her lap and flipped it open.
Following advices on the careers service leaflet that was handed out to her in class, she'd a few questions written down on page one.
Akemi suppressed a wince.
Page one was hardly discernible amidst the messy scrawling and annotations.
She vaguely remembered drafting the next chapter. It was that easy to get deeply immersed in the depths of muses.
'Eeep.' She snapped the book shut from the prying eyes. The counsellor wouldn't have been able to interpret anything though. Her handwriting at times could evolve into a horrid hybrid as though an alchemic experiment gone gruesomely wrong.
"Ummm...I have thought of it," she attempted lamely, plastering on a grin.
The room grew oppressively silent.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, cringing at the sharp creaks the armchair made. Judging by the critical expression bearing down on her, the counsellor's impression of her had slipped down the drain and into the repulsive sewer.
XXX
47 minutes later...
There was a thunderous echo of feet stomping down the corridor.
The librarian had this split second warning before the doors were roughly thrown open, alarming her and the odd students nearby. She slid from the chair, one hand over her poor heart, ready to slap the offending student with a well-deserved disciplinary action. When would they learn? Oh where was that tall and intimidating vice-captain – from err...which club was it – when she needed him?
A figure stormed in, whispering curses and insults. They were strung together rapidly for the librarian to comprehend. She instantly recognised the student but was gobsmacked into muteness. She stood rigidly behind her desk, wide eyes trailing after the figure.
Even from this growing distance, she could sense the vehement inferno raging inside.
The tennis club's manageress...
...she's furious.
Next chapter will be out as soon as I'm done going through it for editing and all that fun stuff. I'll post a this chapter's trivia on my blog soon.
Poll results
Yukimura - 22 (added 9 from review)
Atobe - 19 (added 9 from review)
Kirihara - 2
Niou - 2
Sanada - 2 (added 1 from review)
Others - 0
Leaving the poll open for everyone to get a chance to have their say. You're welcome to vote in the review though!
Thanks for reading and see you next chapter! :)