Ryoma adjusted the strap of his tennis bag, stealing one last glance at his room before shutting the door behind him. Downstairs, Sumire awaited him with an encouraging smile.

"Let's go; I'll drive you to the airport," she said, her voice warm and familiar.

"Thanks, Sensei," Ryoma replied, a hint of gratitude lacing his words.

She paused, eyeing the absence of extra luggage. "Didn't you bring any other bags?"

"No need," Ryoma assured her with a small smile. "I'll be back, and besides, I already have clothes in the US."

Sumire nodded, satisfied with his response, and they made their way to the car. As they navigated through the morning hustle, Ryoma updated Sakuno on his whereabouts. "On my way to Narita Airport," he typed, excitement simmering in his gut, mingling with the bittersweet pang of leaving Japan.

Upon arriving at the airport, Sumire squeezed his shoulder lightly. "Good luck with your training. Send my regards to your parents."

"I will, take care, Sensei," Ryoma nodded, stepping into the throng of travelers with a mixture of eagerness and nostalgia. He saw Sakuno's text pop up just as he approached the check-in line. "Do your best, Ryoma-kun! Sorry I can't see you depart."

A smile crept onto his face, illuminating his thoughts as he handed over his tickets and made his way to the gate.

Back in Hokkaido, Sakuno stood outside, gazing at the sky, searching for any sign of Ryoma's flight. "Is it Ryoma?" her mother, Sayaka, asked, noticing her distant expression.

"Yes," she replied, hope igniting a spark in her chest. "He's on his way to the US."

In the air, thousands of feet above the ground, Ryoma flicked through a magazine featuring the coach who would be training him. The promise of summer stretched ahead, filled with the allure of new challenges.

Thirteen hours later, Ryoma emerged from LaGuardia Airport, the frantic energy of New York City washing over him. He hopped into a taxi and relayed his family's home address, his mind a whirlpool of anticipation and restlessness.

"I'm home!" he called, greeted by the familiar scent of his mother's cooking.

Rinko, his mother, beamed when he opened the door. "Ryoma!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. "You're back! Why didn't you call Ryoga to pick you up?"

"It's okay; he's always busy," Ryoma said. The familiar scent of home enveloped him, easing the travel fatigue that still clung to his limbs.

"How's Ryuzaki-sensei?" she asked, her interest genuine.

"She's good," he answered, avoiding the swell of emotion that came when he thought of Sakuno. Just then, Nanjiroh, emerged from the back door, waving with an exaggerated expression. "Oh, Seishounen! You finally arrived!"

"Yeah, I'm tired. Can I go to my room?" Ryoma asked, the exhaustion weighing him down.

"Of course! Just make sure to eat later," Rinko said softly, her warmth wrapping around him as he made his way upstairs.

Once in his room, he dropped his tennis bag and lay down on the bed, feeling the comfort of familiarity wash over him. It wasn't long before he heard the soft meow of his cat. Karupin leaped onto his stomach. Ryoma chuckled, stroking the cat's head. "Did you miss me?"

Karupin purred in response, and Ryoma's heart swelled with affection. He glanced at his phone; it was 10 AM in the US, meaning it was late in Japan, likely time for Sakuno to be sleeping. He decided to send her a quick message, letting her know he had arrived safely and he fall asleep with Karupin.

Hours later, the aroma of homemade soup nudged him awake. He wandered into the kitchen where his father, Nanjiroh, was engrossed in the newspaper.

"I've cooked lunch, come and eat." Rinko called, happiness radiating from her as she served a feast of ham and Swiss omelet, hash browns, and stuffed biscuits with gravy. Ryoma helped her serve the food.

"You've really changed after being in Japan," Rinko observed, her eyes sparkling with pride when she saw he's helping her.

"I can't let Ryuzaki-sensei do everything for me. She's getting older," he explained, trying to sound casual despite the warmth swelling in his chest as he thought of Sakuno.

"Oh, looks like the young boy has grown up!" Nanjiroh teased, causing Ryoma to roll his eyes.

"Where's Ryoga?" he asked, looking around.

Rinko shrugged. "Not sure. He left this morning."

"He's probably out with girls," Nanjiroh snickered.

Rinko sighed and made worried look. "I wonder when he will settle down."

"He still young. Don't worry too much, he will do that when the time comes." Said Nanjiroh.

After they finished, Ryoma washed the dishes alongside Rinko, wrapping some food for Ryoga. "So, when does training start?" he asked, glancing at Nanjiroh.

"Tomorrow. You can check out the place first if you want," his father replied, taking a sip of green tea.

"I might do that." Ryoma looked at the wall clock, realizing how late it was in Japan.

Just then, the front door creaked open, and Ryoga stepped inside, dark-greenish hair tousled. "Chibisuke! You're back!" he exclaimed.

"Come eat lunch!" Rinko called, waving him over.

As Ryoga settled into his seat, he asked, "How's Japan?"

"Just like always," Ryoma replied, escaping back to his room.

Sifting through his study desk drawers, he stumbled upon a worn postcard—one of the first Sakuno had given him during junior high. A tender smile spread across his face. He sought a new postcard but didn't find any.

"Mom," he called, "do you have any postcards?"

"Postcards? I don't think so," Rinko replied.

"People don't use postcards anymore these days," Ryoga piped up, raising an eyebrow.

"Who are you going to give it to?" Nanjiroh added, smirking.

"Never mind," Ryoma mumbled, a spark of determination igniting within. He grabbed his jacket and headed out, ignoring his brother's inquiries.

The Walmart was buzzing with activity. Among shelves brimming with everyday necessities, Ryoma scoured the aisles until he found a rack of postcards. After paying, he returned home with a sense of purpose.

"Back already?" Ryoga remarked, raising an eyebrow as he entered his room. Ryoma didn't respond. He shut the door, placing Sakuno's postcard on his desk and taking out the new one.

"What should I write?" he pondered. He stared at the blank space, hesitation creeping in. He scribbled drafts, only to crumple them up in frustration. Finally, after much thought, he penned his message:

Dear Ryuzaki,

I know it's late to respond to your postcard from junior high. I just arrived in the US today. I'm going to start tennis training tomorrow. I wish to spend summer break with you.

Love, E. Ryoma.

Feeling a sense of satisfaction, he tucked the postcard away in his wardrobe, planning to send it later. Checking his phone, he saw no reply from Sakuno—'she must be asleep still', he thought, a soft sigh escaping him.

Karupin, sensing his owner's contemplative mood, hopped onto his desk and nudged the phone. Focusing instead on a cherished selfie photo of them during a school trip, he felt a gentle longing stir in his heart. "Look, Karupin," he said softly, showing the picture to his loyal companion. "She's cute, isn't she?" The cat meowed in agreement, and Ryoma chuckled, grateful for his quirky friend.

He then searched something in his drawer again and his eyes fell upon a worn tennis ball adorned which his chibi drawing. The ball had been a gift from Sakuno back in junior high, a token of their burgeoning friendship, and now it sparked a rush of nostalgia.

With a determined smirk, Ryoma fished out another fresh tennis ball, intent on replicating Sakuno's innocent charm. He picked up a marker, the tip quivering in his hand, unsure where to begin. Drawing wasn't his forte, but he poured his heart into sketching her chibi face, careful to capture those two adorable braids that danced like ribbons in the breeze. Once finished, he placed both balls—a symbol of his affection and a catalyst for his dappled feelings—side by side on his desk.

He then took his tennis bag and was about to leave the room, but he paused, his gaze lingering on the drawer that he kept the postcard. He took it out. It bore a bright illustration of New York City. With a gentle stroke of Karupin's soft fur, he murmured, "I'm going out." The fluffy feline merely blinked, unimpressed, before returning to its nap.

"Mom, I'm going to survey the training place!" he called as he descended the stairs. His mother, Rinko, looked up from her bustling kitchen with a warm smile. "Okay, be careful," she replied, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken hopes for him. His father, Nanjiroh, remained glued to the newspaper, its pages hiding more than just news, as usual.

Stepping out into the cacophony of New York City, Ryoma felt alive. The city buzzed with energy, people rushing past him, weaving stories of their own amid the sidewalks. He clutched the postcard tightly. With each step, the memory of Sakuno pulled at his heart, urging him forward.

Soon, he arrived at the post office, where he slipped the postcard into the mailbox, sealing his thoughts for Sakuno away, a tangible piece of his affection. He smiled, imagining her surprise at receiving it. As he walked further, he spotted the towering US National Campus.

'I think this is the place," he thought. He stepped inside, the vast empty halls echoing with possibilities. It was serene, the courts silent and calling to him like an old friend.

As dawn broke over Hokkaido, soft rays of sunlight crept through the hotel curtains, illuminating the small room. Sakuno stirred awake to the familiar alarm tone emanating from her phone. Groggy and still half-asleep, she reached for the device, fumbling with it until the alarm fell silent. As she blinked away the remnants of sleep, a notification caught her eye. It was a message from Ryoma.

Her heart skipped a beat as she opened the text. "I just landed in the US" The corners of her lips turned up in a smile, warmth flooding her chest. She quickly typed a reply, expressing her relief and excitement.

After sending it, Sakuno padded to the bathroom, washed her face, and brushed her hair. Today was supposed to be a day of exploration, yet the thought of Ryoma being thousands of miles away felt oddly heavy but thrilling. Once she was ready, she ventured into the small living room where Sayaka sat sipping a cup of tea.

"Good morning, Sakuno," Sayaka greeted with a radiant smile, her eyes glimmering with warmth.

"Morning, Mom! Where is Dad?" Sakuno replied, noticing the absence of her father's usual morning energy.

Sayaka glanced toward the balcony, her expression slightly worried. "Your dad has been busy with work since yesterday. He's on the phone again."

Sakuno's gaze shifted to the balcony where Shinji, stood gripping his phone tightly. His forehead was creased in concentration, a sure sign that something was troubling him. She could hear his low voice, laced with the weight of responsibility.

"Come have breakfast," Sayaka urged gently.

Sakuno nodded and made her way to the dining table. Shortly after, Shinji came in from the balcony, letting out a deep sigh that resonated through the room.

"What's wrong, dear?" Sayaka asked, concern etching her features.

"There are some issues at the company with other branches," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Sayaka, Sakuno. I think we might have to cut this vacation short."

"It's okay, Dad," Sakuno chimed in reassuringly. "We understand. Don't worry about us." Her words felt like an anchor, grounding him amid the swirling chaos of corporate demands.

"Thank you, both of you," Shinji replied, touched by their understanding. "Once this is settled, I promise to make more time for you. I'll go make the arrangements now."

A few hours later, after a quick breakfast and brief packing, they piled into the family car. Sakuno's heart raced as they drove toward Narita Airport. The conversation buzzed lightly in the background.

"Are we going abroad?" Sakuno suddenly blurted out, her curiosity piqued.

"Indeed, the branch is located in the US". Shinji explained, oblivious to the spark ignited within her.

'US? That means... I can meet Ryoma-kun!' she thought, bubbling with excitement. A thousand scenarios played out in her mind—could she see him while they were there? Should she tell him now, or wait until they land? Just as she was about to text him, her father's voice pulled her back to reality.

"Hurry now, we're almost at the airport; we don't want to miss the flight!"

The rush of the moment left Sakuno no choice but to put her phone away. The family dealt with check-ins and security with efficiency born of practice. As they boarded the plane, she felt the familiar rush of excitement that came with adventure, but now it was mixed with the sweetness of hope.