Disclaimer: I do not own Saki. I just wished for another season once the Captain match is over and for the Miyanaga family mystery to be unfolded.
Nodoka stood in the hallway of the old ryokan, the coolness of the tatami mats seeping through her socks. The training camp was quiet, the only sounds were the occasional creak of the wooden beams and the distant rustle of trees outside. The building was weathered but charming, its age lending it a sense of history. Outside, the night sky stretched endlessly, dotted with stars that shone brighter in cloudless nights.
She made her way to the open-air balcony, where the mountains, their peaks were silhouetted against the dark sky. The view was breathtaking, but Nodoka's thoughts were elsewhere. She leaned on the wooden railing, gazing up at the stars, her mind replaying the day's events.
Hisa's words lingered in her ears, challenging everything she believed about her playstyle. "Nodoka, as your Buchou and as a teammate, I want you to consider all possibilities, even those that seem improbable."
Saki's playstyle—so different from her own, so unpredictable—gnawed at her. That match, the one where Saki had pulled off an impossible Rinshan Kaihou, had left Nodoka unsettled. She had dismissed it as luck, an outlier that wouldn't repeat. But Saki had done it again, and again. It wasn't just luck.
Nodoka tightened her grip on the railing, "It's not logical," she whispered to herself, but even as she said it, doubt crept in. Could it be that there was more to mahjong than just logic and statistics? Was there something in Saki's playstyle that she was missing?
She remembered how Hisa had given her the game record of Amae Koromo, another player who defied the odds with uncanny regularity. "If you're going to be our captain, you should do everything to win, even if it means believing in something beyond logic."
The Prefectural tournament were only a few weeks away, scheduled for the end of spring. They need to win to qualify as the prefecture's representative to go to the Interhigh. Nodoka knew she had to be at her best, but how could she when she wasn't even sure about her own approach to the game?
Hisa had noticed Nodoka slipping out earlier, her eyes following her as she moved silently through the ryokan. She had sensed something was troubling her, the way Nodoka's steps were slower, more deliberate, as if weighed down by her thoughts. Hisa had thought to speak with her but decided against it. She knew Nodoka well enough to understand that sometimes, space was needed to sort through confusion.
Standing just inside the sliding door, Hisa watched Nodoka from a distance, the younger girl silhouetted against the starry sky. She could almost feel the turmoil within Nodoka, the conflict between logic and the inexplicable. Hisa sighed softly, concern can be traced on her expression. Nodoka was strong, but everyone had moments of doubt. Hisa knew Nodoka would have to face this uncertainty and come to her own conclusions. All she could do was offer support when Nodoka was ready.
As Nodoka stood there, staring at the starry sky, she felt a deep conflict within her. The stars twinkled above as if mirroring her inner turmoil. Spring was in full bloom, with the warmth of the season mingling with the cool night air. The first blossoms of the year were a reminder that change was inevitable, whether she was ready for it or not.
Meanwhile, in West Tokyo, Shiraitodai was deep into preparations for the upcoming tournaments. Having dominated the Interhigh for two years straight, they were gunning for their third consecutive championship. In their training room, the team gathered to discuss the potential competition they might face this year.
Sumire Hirose, Shiraitodai's Sergeant, leaned forward, her tone serious. "We can't underestimate Rinkai. Satoha Tsujigaito is still their vanguard, and she's one of the best. She has an exceptional ability to gauge an opponent's firepower and speed, and she knows precisely how to balance offense and defense. She's a formidable player."
"Blah, blah, Satoha this, Satoha that," Awai Oohoshi chimed in, waving her hand dismissively. "We've heard all that before, Sumire~. But seriously, we have Teru here? It's not like Rinkai's suddenly become unbeatable."
Sumire shot her a look, but Awai grinned, clearly unconcerned. She kicked her feet up onto the table, leaning back in her chair with a confident smirk. "Besides, it's going to be fun crushing their hopes again. I'm looking forward to it."
"Awai, get your feet off the table," Seiko said, pushing Awai's legs down. Awai made a childish expression and then put her feet back on the table.
"Awai, please," Saki said, with a slightly chiding tone.
Awai, though visibly sulking, followed Saki's request.
"Returning to the discussion," Sumire continued, trying to refocus the conversation. "Teru, you know how to handle her."
"Hmm," Teru made an acknowledgement while eating her strawberry cake. Takami passed her a cup of tea.
"Okay, let's not forget about the new players on their team. Huiyu Hao from Hong Kong earned a silver medal in the Under 15 Asia Tournament. She claimed she lost due to unfamiliarity with Japanese rules, but she's had time to adapt since then."
Awai shrugged; her expression bored. "Yeah, yeah, she's good, whatever. At least you won't be bored playing with her, Sumire-senpai." She added the honorific quickly when Sumire's glare intensified.
Sumire sighed but pressed on. "And then there's Choe Myeonghwa. She can consistently draw her seat wind and round wind, and her singing can boost her luck. She'll be challenging to handle."
"Lalalalalalala~~~ehem!" Awai giggled, then winked at her teammates. Sumire, having reached her limit with Awai's antics, made her face the wall.
"Stay there until I say so!" Sumire said firmly. Seiko, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh at Awai's predicament. She even pulled out her phone to take a photo.
"Seiko," Sumire said.
Seiko immediately went back to her seat, clearly not wanting the same fate as Awai.
Awai dramatically wailed, "Sumire-senpai, I'm sorry already. Have mercy!"
"If you don't stop, we will be studying physics," Sumire threatened. Awai's wail abruptly stopped, clearly frightened by the threat.
Megan Davin, one of the remaining senior members of the Rinkai team, also came up in their discussion. "She's got that strange ability to sense other players' tenpai and can force a duel. We'll need to be careful with her. Awai, you can't say anything, but you have to polish your basics just in case."
"And there's Nelly Virsaladze from Georgia," Sumire continued. "She's a wildcard. She's used to controlling the game flow and can sacrifice smaller hands to win bigger ones later. Saki, be careful around her."
Saki nodded. "Yes, Sumire-senpai."
Despite her time-out, Awai couldn't resist adding, "Honestly, I'm sure Saki can handle her. They're good, but they're not invincible. And we're Shiraitodai. Let's not forget who the real champions are."
Sumire glared at Awai and made her hold a cup of tea above her head. "Sumire-senpai, I'm sorry already. Please, have mercy," Awai pleaded dramatically.
"If you don't stop, we will be studying physics," Sumire reiterated.
Awai's pleas stopped abruptly, clearly more afraid of the study session than the current punishment.
The conversation shifted to other potential threats, like Senriyama's Onjouji Toki, known for her odd ippatsu rates, and Himematsu's Atago Hiroe, whose confidence and skill were remarkable. They also discussed Eisui Girls' Jindai Komaki, who could be possessed by goddess spirits, making her a formidable opponent, especially against stronger teams.
"I hope it will be a strong goddess," Teru declared, looking forward to a good challenge.
"And don't forget Iwato Kasumi," Teru added. "She can manipulate the draws, which could make things interesting for you, Saki."
Finally, they recalled the unexpected teams that had surprised them in previous years, such as last year's Nagano representative, Ryuumonbuchi, and their vanguard, Amae Koromo, whose late-night abilities had taken many by surprise.
"We have to be ready for anything," Sumire concluded. "We're the champions, but that means everyone's gunning for us. Let's make sure we're prepared."
Takami remains to be focused on her cup of tea.
After Shiraitodai's meeting, the team dispersed, each member heading to their own tasks. The buzz of their conversations and the clatter of chairs filled the training room as the team prepared to leave. Saki, however, felt the weight of the day's discussions pressing heavily on her shoulders.
As the last of her teammates departed, Teru lingered, her gaze following Saki with a mixture of concern and care. She watched as Saki silently walked towards the exit, her posture stiff and her steps deliberate. Teru knew better than to press immediately; Saki needed space, but Teru also felt compelled to check on her.
Once they were home, Teru approached Saki gently. "Hey, Saki," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "How are you feeling?"
Saki turned, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine, Onee-chan. Just tired."
Teru studied her sister's face, the fatigue and tension evident in her eyes. She wanted to say more, to offer comfort, but she knew Saki often preferred to process her feelings alone. "Alright," Teru said, taking a step back. "I'm here if you need to talk, okay? But I won't push."
Saki nodded with a small yet sad smile on her face, appreciating the gesture more than she let on, "I know, onee-chan. Thank you." She turned away and headed for her room, her thoughts already drifting.
Teru watched her go, her heart heavy with unspoken concern. She understood that Saki is feeling the pressure and is just trying to show a strong front but knowing that didn't make it any easier to watch her struggle. She is confused on how to provide more support for her sister, and she is regretting that she remained silent when they were kids. Maybe, Saki wouldn't be suffering as much as she is now. As Saki disappeared from view, Teru quietly retreated to her own room, leaving Saki to her solitude.
Later that evening, Saki found herself alone in the bathroom, the warm, inviting embrace of the bath awaiting her. She sank into the tub, the soothing water a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil she carried. As the day's events replayed in her mind, she felt the comforting warmth of the water, but it did little to ease the chill of her thoughts.
As she leaned back, her eyes closed, memories from her childhood began to surface—vivid and unsettling. She could almost hear the echoes of her parents' voices, sharp and tense, cutting through the calm of the living room.
Saki, at six years old, sat at a small mah-jong table with her parents. The wooden surface, scratched and worn from years of use, held the remnants of their last game. She was proud of her ability to win, but the victories were met with reactions she hadn't fully understood at the time.
Her father, frowning, slammed his fist on the table. "You win too much, Saki! You need to let us win sometimes!"
Her mother, rubbing her temples, added, "It's not about winning or losing. We're here to enjoy the game together. You're making it unpleasant."
Saki's small hands trembled as she held the tiles, her eyes darting between her parents. She had won again, and though she didn't grasp why they were upset, she could feel the tension in the room.
When she lost, it was a different scene. Her father would pocket her New Year's money and her mother would take away the candy she had been given. The punishment felt harsh, but she learned quickly that losing wasn't an option if she wanted to keep her treats.
As the arguments continued, young Saki adapted. She discovered how to manipulate the game subtly—ensuring she never lost too much or won too much. She aimed for a balanced score, keeping it around zero. It wasn't about playing mahjong for the love of the game anymore; it was about survival, about making sure she wasn't punished for her successes or failures.
Her older sister, Teru, watched with a mixture of concern and frustration. Teru hated the arguments between their parents and disapproved of the way Saki had learned to play. But as a child herself, Teru could only offer silent support, her own feelings masked behind a facade of understanding.
Back to the Present
The memories faded, leaving Saki staring at the water in the tub. The past echoed in the present, a reminder of how her approach to mahjong had been shaped by fear and necessity. The fear and loneliness she felt now, in the spotlight of the mahjong world, felt like an extension of those childhood battles. She had learned to play safely, to avoid extremes, but now, as a player with a reputation, she faced a different kind of battle—one where her opponents saw her not as a child but as a monster.
The memories of her parents' anger and disappointment had left scars deeper than she had realized. Winning wasn't just a matter of skill—it was a survival tactic, a way to navigate a world where affection and approval were earned through balance and restraint.
She curls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if trying to shield herself from the cold reality. The warmth of the water can't reach the chill that has settled deep within her. Her playstyle, once a source of pride, now feels like a burden. It isn't just about winning anymore; it's about the fear she instils in others, the way her victories leave a trail of broken spirits.
Tears mix with the bathwater, unnoticed as they slip down her cheeks. Saki's heart aches with the knowledge that her opponents don't see her as just another player, but as a looming threat, a monster. They don't fight back because they don't believe they can win, and that's what hurts the most. She doesn't want to be feared; she wants to be challenged, to feel the thrill of a true battle. But all she's left with is emptiness.
The water in the tub begins to cool, but Saki remains still, lost in her thoughts. The idea of facing another match especially in prefectural level fills her with dread, not because she's afraid of losing, but because she's afraid of what she's becoming. The thought of seeing another opponent's face fall in despair is unbearable.
As she finally moves to drain the tub, she realizes that she's not just washing away the bathwater, but trying to cleanse herself of the doubts and fears that cling to her. She wants to be seen for who she is, not as a monster. Yet, as the water swirls down the drain, she knows it's not that simple. The world sees what it wants to see, and right now, all they see is a monster.
Do I even love mah-jong?
Have I ever loved mah-jong to begin with?
As the last of the bathwater drained away, Saki felt a pang of sadness. Her reputation as a "National Class Monster" was a constant reminder of what others think of her.
A monster
Saki wraps herself in a towel, staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The girl looking back at her is tired—tired of the fear, the loneliness, the burden of being labelled something she never wanted to be. She runs a hand through her damp hair, letting out a sigh.
Tomorrow is another day
But as she steps out of the bathroom, the fear lingers, like a shadow that refuses to be shaken off. Saki knows she can't escape it, but she can face it. She just has to figure out how.
Note: I had fun writing this. Hope you enjoy it. Honestly, I am trying to come up a way on how can Kiyosumi go through Nationals without Saki. I don't want Nodoka to divert too much from her ability but at the same time I seriously don't want to nerf Koromo so I am trying to come up with a solution.