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Chapter Text

Sakuno breathes out and spins the handle of her racket with her sweaty, calloused hands. Her doe eyes narrow and focus on her opponent at the other end of the court. The deafening cheers and screams fall mute to her ears. Even the ceaseless drumming in her chest fails to reach her. To the girl, there is nothing but the neon tennis ball bouncing quickly from her opponent's hand to the hot clay ground, and back.

Pok—

Pok—

Pok, it went.

She breathes out again. A single tear of sweat trickles down the side of her sun-kissed face.

Then, with a raise of a hand, the ball flew to the sky, nearly covering the shape of the morning sun, and is quickly hit to her direction in one graceful and fluid motion.

In that same instant, Sakuno is off to her feet; the ball entering her side of the court. She grunted as she caught it squarely on the sweetspot of her racket - the ball spinning sharp and fast into the opposite end of the court, garnering her first win in the day's tournament.

Cries exploded and she looks to the crowd in a dazed, lightheaded expression, one of disbelief more than tire.

Overwhelmed, she loses herself in the moment; deafened by the sea of cheers and applause. Behind her, her coach steps forward. Doe eyes meet sharp almond ones. Her mentor, her old classmate, smirks and tells her coyly, teasingly, "Mada mada dane."

Sakuno starts smiling even as he said this, knowing fully well how far they've come. Today's win, she'd like to believe, was the start of many.

Basic facts, before story-reveal:

Manga!Sakuno, aged 18 (Birthday on Jan 14), Attending 3rd-Year of High School, member of the tennis club, good school grades, looking to get into university, is on the her first game in the finals after placing in the bootcamp's eliminations, Ryoma started coaching her only when he got back to Tokyo after his Grand Slam win - prepping her for her first game in the finals round.

Ryoma, aged 17 (Birthday is on the 24 December - no year, decided for him to be born the same year as Sakuno), took a break from school for the competition he just won, youngest Grand Slam title holder, popularity spiked after his win although he was already popular internationally before (during his debut in the professional field), lives in LA, California and decided to visit Tokyo a day right after his win.

Chapter Text

They always meet in the public tennis courts at six in the morning, this unlikely team of trainee-trainer. Ryoma would always beat her to the venue with a thermos on hand, drinking some concoction he picked up while touring in Southeast Asia.

Lit lamps accompanied Sakuno in her warm up laps. Every session starts with five runs around the premises. This exercise was the only one Ryoma joined in; and whatever's left of the morning would be dedicated to lazing on the park bench with a hot beverage, listening to the sound of her playing.

Ryoma was as aloof and cool as she remembered. It was one of the many reasons he was so attractive. Nothing seemed to ever bother him. A clear mind, Sakuno thought to herself, maybe that was the secret behind his success – a clear mind and tons of talent.

The thought brought a smile to her face. Her friend didn't change one bit even after three years. He was still the same handsome, cocky, and talented young twelve-year old boy she met years back. The snarky adolescent who had an eye for nothing other than tennis.

Now – Sakuno smiles - now, he was no longer just a boy who dreamed of tennis.

The brunette pauses in her step to look up at the young man tying his shoelace on one of the benches. And, she tells herself, as Ryoma turns and meets her gaze with his piercing hazel eyes, he was everything was supposed to be and more.

"She almost won, because of that." Ryoma suddenly mentions, making Sakuno stop from rallying against the wall. Catching the ball with her racket, she turns to her coach with a confused expression. "Your slices are sharp and fast, but your hits lack strength."

Sakuno looked to her feet, thinking he was right.

"You should grunt." He told her simply. "It adds an 'oomph' to your hits."

Her brows rising, Sakuno had to keep herself from smiling from the less than animated attempt of Ryoma at his 'oomph.'

"It keeps you attuned to your rhythm." Ryoma added. Then, thinking his ward was reluctant, continued to say, "It's not as ridiculous as it sounds."

"It isn't." The brunette immediately said, afraid to offend him. Then, when Ryoma leaned back on his seat, she walked back to position and hit the tip of her shoes to the ground, tightening them.

Back on his bench, Ryoma hid the growing smirk on his lips with his fingers. Being twelve or seventeen made no difference to Sakuno's gullibility. The girl was just too trusting to a fault.

He couldn't help himself. It's been a long, uneventful morning. And he felt a tad impish. While Sakuno was already improving the strength of her smashes with practice, he thought it funny - how a girl as quiet and timid as she was would be able to grunt like the greats like Sharapova.

Sakuno started with a simple service. She caught the ball with her racket and – suddenly remembering she forgot to grunt as she hit it - messed her spin and chucked the neon tennis ball over the fence to the road below.

In an instant, her whole face flushes red in utter embarrassment. And, as she was about to sink to her knees in humiliation, Ryoma's voice calls out to her. "Keep going." He urged her.

Eyes narrowing and cheeks flushing, Sakuno nodded and dribbled the neon ball. This time, more comfortable with its feel, she made another service. Quickly running to the other end of the court, positioning herself for a good smash, she caught the ball and grunted right as she swung her racket with an added boost of adrenaline - making it reach the wall and back within record time.

Astounded, Sakuno turned to Ryoma. She was about to cheer in disbelief and excitement when she's met with the unimpressed expression on her coach's face.

Ryoma pursed his lips. This wasn't exactly the outcome he wanted. So, instead of commending her, he urged her on. "Try grunting louder."

Disappointed by his indifference, Sakuno hid her frown and resigned to comply. She made the service and caught the ball square on the sweetspot of her racket. And in less than a split-second, as she focused her strength to hit the ball with a specific spin that would make it slice into her non-existent opponent's side of the court, she almost forgot that she had to grunt.

So, she did - at the last minute - making her miss the beat. This sent the ball and her tennis racket flying to the other end of the court. And together with her tennis racket and ball covering the light of the morning sun for almost a second long, she could hear her grunt-turned-shriek echo throughout the vicinity. As if everything was in ridiculously slow motion, she felt all the hair in her body rise, her gut sink in dread, and her cheeks color in utter humiliation as everyone within earshot froze from their respective games in shock and look at her in confusion.

A wave of silence washed through the courts in the form of tennis balls dribbling to a full stop. And Sakuno wanted nothing more but to vanish into the floor that same instant.

THEN, right on que, as Sakuno melted into the floor in mortification, Ryoma bursts out laughing.

Sakuno turned to him, her brows creasing comically in disbelief at his reaction.

Then, Ryoma approaches her, clutching his stomach and laughing as he did. Squatting beside the tomato red girl, he tells her in between laughs. "That was way better than what I expected."

Like that, something in Sakuno clicked. And before she could take a hold of herself, her nostrils flare and she lounges at Ryoma in blind rage.

Both of them leave the courts looking less than their normal selves. Ryoma's hair was all ruffled. And there were noticeable dirt marks on his white cap and shirt. And Sakuno, well, her braids were in a messy fray. Her knees were red from having knelt as she tried to shove Ryoma down to an early grave. Ryoma had never seen her so angry that all he could do was push back the hands that wanted to strangle him.

Needless to say, Sakuno was more than miffed as the both of them walked back home in bitter silence. And the fact that Ryoma was visibly pissed made Sakuno pissed even more.

When they reach the fork in the road where they usually go their separate paths home, Ryoma starts to turn down his street when Sakuno calls out to him. With her face still flushed, she hisses. "I can't believe you're mad at me."

Ryoma look at her as if she grew another head. "You shoved my face to the floor!"

"You humiliated me!" She cried.

Ryoma couldn't believe her. "You did it to yourself!" Then, remembering the incident earlier - starts chuckling, much to Sakuno's disdain.

"Why're you laughing?!" She cried, defensively pointing at the laughing Ryoma.

"I'm not!" He continues to laugh at her stupid expression, both now and from earlier. And the more Sakuno's face grew darker, the harder his laughing became.

Red-faced, Sakuno stuttered in rage. "It's not funny!" Ryoma just kept laughing his brains out. "Stop laughing!" She cried.

"Okay." Ryoma tried stopping, raising his hands in an attempt to calm her. Still, he couldn't help himself from chuckling. "Okay."

"You're-" Sakuno huffed in absolute rage as Ryoma kept trying to stifle his laugh and fail incredibly. "-You're-" Ryoma's laugh grew harder, thinking Sakuno looked like she was about to explode. "You're so insufferable!" Then, without warning, she swung her dufflebag at him; making him almost fall back. And, before Ryoma could say anything more, she ran away, down her street. As she did, she could still hear Ryoma's laughter behind her.

Chapter Text

Even by the next session, Sakuno refused to talk to Ryoma, let alone look at him. She acted as if he wasn't around. And, Ryoma couldn't care less, thinking it annoying how she could hold onto a insignificant grudge. He'd still point her mistakes and tell her his recommendations, even without so much as a nod from her.

When their session ended, and as Sakuno was fixing her gear, Ryoma approached her. And, scratching his head, told her simply, "I'm treating lunch."

Sakuno turns to Ryoma with her eyes wide with surprise. And he raises a brow back, kind of miffed by the shock in her face. "What?" He barks at her, making the girl look away in an instant.

She barely found her voice as she stuttered, nodding as she awkwardly packed her things, "Hmm."

Behind her, Ryoma let out an exasperated sigh; thinking she was making things more weird for both of them.

The establishment Sakuno recommended was packed when they peered through the window. But seeing as Ryoma was Ryoma, he managed to get them a table by the corner.

When their orders came - Ryoma opted for Shoyu ramen and Sakuno, beef stew with rice - the former looked at her dish with an odd and perplexed expression. He'd soon ask why she wanted to go to a well-known ramen shop and order a rice meal, but decided against it when his stomach cried to him in a hungry growl.

It was only a few minutes into their meal that a shadow cast overhead.

"You're the girl who won the other day, aren't you?" A huge highschooler grunted more than spoke, gesturing to Sakuno who looked up at him with wide doe eyes, unsure of what to say. But she needn't reply as the former soon turned to Ryoma who, unlike her, paid him no heed. "And you're Echizen Ryoma, the seventeen-year-old calendar Grand Slam champion."

It takes a second before Ryoma grunted amid his meal, "You're not wrong." came his simple reply.

"I'd ask for your autograph, you know." The unwelcome student snorted, lingering at their table; making Sakuno feel uncomfortable. "But now that I know you're a damn cheat, helping that sloppy-playing brat, the appeal's lost to me."

Ryoma breaks his chopsticks in half. And, seeing as the guy was still there, simply said coolly, "Good." He pulls the glistening thick noodles from underneath the porky broth. "I don't indulge requests of gorillas."

Sakuno nearly choked on her seat, utterly aghast by Ryoma's aloofness at the stranger''s simmering anger. Her eyes could only watch the two in worry. She was certain that one more word from Ryoma would be enough to send the large teenager over the edge and beat him to a pulp.

But the student didn't and just snorted again, heatedly.

A thankful sigh escaped Sakuno's lips as the unwelcome highschooler turned away to leave. But just as he was about to walk away, the scornful teenager threw her a disgusted glare over his shoulder; and muttered under his breath, "You'll lose soon enough, bitch."

In all honestly, Sakuno didn't know the curse was directed at her. She was, admittedly, more gullible that she cared to believe. But, Ryoma had. And he stood up before the brunette got a grasp of what was going on.

Suddenly, Ryoma grabs the back of the shirt of the much bulkier teen which causes the latter to miss his step. The enraged face that turns to meet his intimidating gaze failed to faze him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He bellows.

In an instant, smaller, daintier hands grab holds of Ryoma's and forces his hands off the taller teen. And it was Sakuno's red face, humiliated and distraught, that Ryoma's gaze met. Her scorn took him aback. He couldn't tell why she was angry; why she seemed to be angry at him.

"Sto-stop it, Ryoma-kun." Came her voice, small and broken.

Ryoma's hands drop to his sides, with Sakuno's cold ones holding onto his. He was confused. He was standing up for her, but why did it seem like he was being a douche instead?

The furious, larger teen straightened his shirt, throwing a fit about the creases.

In the same establishment, just a few tables away sat his friends, all looking on at the spectacle. Then, even though Sakuno's gaze was locked to the floor, frozen by the thought that everyone was looking on, the highschooler spoke with a gruff. "You best know your place." He clicked his tongue. "Even you should know that had it not been for his coaching, my friend would've won. They never should've allowed a Grand Slam champion to coach a highschooler." The spiteful teen bit at them. "It's sickening how you have the gall to show yourself in the arena with zero experience in the game." Then, he laughs, belittling her. "You're not even a regular." With a snarl, he added. "You're a fucking joke."

Ryoma thinks Sakuno about to cry and, with a crease in his brows, steps in front of her.

"What does that make your friend, then?" Ryoma challenged. The haughty teen meets Ryoma's straight gaze, fazed by the intensity of his expression. "Since she lost to someone who's a joke."

Taken aback, the teen just bites his lip and seethes at the them. And before anymore could be said, the store owner asked after them. Nothing more was uttered after. And Ryoma and Sakuno took it upon themselves to leave.

"You should've just let it go." Sakuno tells him right as they step out of the store, much to Ryoma's irritation.

"I shouldn't have." Sakuno looked up and met Ryoma's firm gaze. "You should learn to stand up for yourself."

Sakuno's eyes widen, and her stomach grows queasy. She knew he was right. And, she blinks away the tears filling her eyes, she's been trying.

"What a gorilla." Ryoma suddelny mutters under his breath as he starts walking, earning a small smile from Sakuno as she followed behind him.

"He looks like Kabaji-san, ne?" Sakuno speaks softly.

After a second of remembering who Kabaji was, Ryoma suddenly grins and nods in agreement.

"Ne, Ryoma-kun." Sakuno called after Ryoma, as she matched his long stride to be able to walk beside him. "Thank you."

Ryoma simply nods in acceptance. "Betsuni." He tells her. Then, a while passes, when he says as a matter of fact, "When I started coaching you, you were already in the finals." Sakuno turns to him, surprised. "You didn't need me to get far into the tournament. And you don't need me to win it."

"Coaching you is just coincidence. You owe this all to yourself." They reached the fork in the road. And Ryoma looked back at her before they parted ways. "You should never forget to give yourself credit for that."

Chapter Text

It was a hot Wednesday's afternoon. And during a spirited game of Mahjong, Sumire's eyes wandered to her granddaughter. The girl was seated with her rowdy group of old folk, arranging her tiles then and trying to meet the laughter of her seniors.

Sumire's eyes shone as she stifled a laugh, knowing fully well their jokes went over Sakuno's head.

Her granddaughter had always been a dutiful young lady. She never raised her voice nor asked for anything out of turn. In her youth, Sumire was the child's stark contrast, which was why she's been waiting for these periods of experimentation, of wild behavior to indicate her granddaughter's progress to adulthood.

But Sakuno, Sumire shook her head and chuckled, couldn't be far from it. And it led her hope that she, by some miracle, must have been a better parent than she thought. Because, before she knew it, Sakuno had already grown into a beautiful and warm young woman.

Eventually, after two more rounds of her friends' sailor talk, Sumire pulled money from her bag and forced them to a surprised Sakuno. Then said, as her friends' laughter continued to fill their home, "Go play with your friends.".

A surprised Sakuno turned to her, "I don't have to." She smiled politely, gently pushing back the money to Sumire's hands. "I'm having fun learning Mahjong with everyone." She grinned.

"This is an old man's game, Sakuno." Sumire chuckled, finding the earnest expression on her grandchild endearing. "I'd rather you visit the mall than play with us old people all afternoon."

"Invite Tomoka-chan." The woman said as an afterthought, shooing Sakuno to the door.

As the girl stepped out of the house with much protest, she could hear her grandmother's friends say after her, "You know, I should bring my Shou-chin next time. He's only fifteen but mature for his age. It's an instant match for our dear Sakuno-chan."

"Don't bring your stupid grandson!" Another laughed. "If anyone'll get with Sakuno-chan, it'll be my boy, Kenji. He's just become captain of his Judo team, you know."

Their comments send Sumire into a laughing fit.

"Oh, Kami-sama, shut up you idiots!" The third one groans in aggravation. "How're they to compete with the boy Sumire's lined up for Sakuno-chan?!"

"Who?" Sakuno overhears her grandmother ask in earnest.

"Why!" Sakuno's gaze falls to the floor in unease. "Ryoma Echizen, of course!"

Bored Cheshire eyes close as the young man with the ebony locks, with the fetching features and handsome physique shifted to his side, lazily swinging a stick in front of his Himalayan cat, Karupin; teasing the equally lazy old feline.

Ryoma had nothing to do that day. Or rather, nothing piqued his fancy long enough to keep him on his feet. There was nothing much to do in the city, he decided. Its allure was lost to him.

Back in California, he'd have several opponents waiting in line. But, as the boy was alone in a two-bedroom apartment he leased at the last minute, he had no one to engage him. He'd soon walk off to the tennis courts to start a friendly match with a stranger, but since his popularity has taken a sudden spike within the locality in the recent days, he's decided to lay low indefinitely.

Suddenly, the stick on his grasp is jerked away. And Ryoma spins onto his stomach, attempting to snatch the stick back from the fat feline. But, Karupin, Ryoma frowned, had long ran into the other room.

Constrained with nothing to do, with no vigor to accomplish anything, the young man shifted once again to his back. And, idly looking at the ceiling above, Ryoma sighed and thought to himself - 'What the hell am I doing here?'

A frown reached his lips at the thought of everyone back home. He could vividly remember the shocked expression on their faces when he told them he was leaving for Tokyo. His family and friends were all in his home, celebrating with him on the same day he won his first Grand Slam. That night, he came downstairs with nothing but a dufflebag hanging from his shoulder. And, on his way to the front door, a friend laughed and jokingly asked if he had someplace to be. When Ryoma nodded and simply said, "Tokyo," the laugh on his friend's lips died down and confusion took its place.

Honestly, he himself didn't know what possessed him to return to this country, one he's never given more than a passing thought. He doesn't know why he was training Sakuno; let alone why he was lying on the wooden floor of some barely-furnished apartment. Nothing he's done recently made any sense to him.

His hand lightly touches the cold floor beneath him; and, with a sweep of a finger, he notes that the apartment must have been collecting dust for a while now. A part of him wondered where he was now, whether he still knew this place where he spent the best years of his childhood. Maybe, he thought, they shouldn't have had left that first, that second, that third time. If they didn't, would he have had a normal life with his seniors back in middle school; would they still be playing tennis up until now.

The Ryuzakis were his last link to a life he could've possibly have had he chosen to stay in Tokyo and build his career here. Everyone else seemed to have already left. Each of them took their separate paths.

A question shot to him by a random reporter came to mind. Was this the crossroads of his life, the sports journalist asked. Now that he's a Grand Slam title holder, what was next for him?

Shifting again, the boy glances up the ceiling and finds a moth circling the fluorescent light. Suddenly, he is reminded of the ungodly heat and the wetness of his skin, of the beads of sweat trickling down his face and the harrowing breaths he takes as he awaits the service of his opponent. He could only make out the silhouette of his faceless rival. Over the years, they seemed to blur into this one, unidentifiable image.

Then, the light dims. And gradually, when his gaze focuses, his eyes widen at the face that looks back at him.

His father - he jerks up. Was this what his old man wanted for him?

Somewhere in his thirst for the game - he freezes. He looks around him and stands still. The world is in an uproar around him, screaming, cheering, crying.

As he reached the top of the competitive world of tennis, the more it felt surreal; as if he was separate from all that was happening around him; as if he was someone else looking into a life not his own. He started the field as a boy and won still as a boy. He was but sixteen when he won the Grand Slam.

Again, he shifts to his side.

A foreign heat leans against his back. Ryoma smirked at the soft purring of Karupin by his side.

Before he knows it, another day had passed. The orange hue of the setting sun had once again painted the sky.

When the next morning comes, these thoughts would be set aside, far back into the deepest recesses of his mind. And he'll wake up to a new day with the same void in his chest.

He'd prepare himself for the day's practice; bathe, brush his teeth, blend his signature drink, and walk into an empty court where he'll be joined by a girl he barely knew. She was warmer and smiled more than he remembers. And it unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

Still, he looks at Ryuzaki as an odd feeling, nostalgia was it, filled him.

"Good morning, Ryoma-kun." Sakuno smiles.

Ryoma stiffly nods in return. And nothing much more is said between them that morning, until the end of the session.

Chapter Text

It was almost nine o'clock in the morning, when the match would start. And as every second passed, time seemed to have slowed. All the noise around her grew mute.

Her friends joined the audience in the bleachers. And Tomoka was already screaming her lungs out.

Sakuno's brows crease, a heavy feeling weighing on her chest. Stiffly, she turns and hunches over her tennis bag, searching for her towel.

Her palms start to sweat. And a dread starts to fill her. What was she doing? She thought, trying to ignore the visible tremor in her hands. She couldn't look up from her bag. She couldn't meet the gaze of the immediate audience nor those of the cameras televising the competition.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle catches her attention. It was the umpire, calling the start of the game.

Sakuno takes a moment to compose herself. This isn't happening, she thought to herself in alarm. She was frozen where she stood. This isn't happening, she cried to herself again as the anxiety kicked in.

"Hey," a hand gently taps her on the shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Hm," Sakuno nods as a tear of sweat falls on the side of her face.

"You'll do great." Her grandmother smiles at her reassuringly.

Sakuno doesn't know what to say. So, she just nods once more and proceeds to the court.

It was not her day. And she knew it.

She reaches the net and stops in front of her competitor.

She burnt her toast earlier today. And she even slipped in the bathroom. It wasn't bad, but she could still feel the soreness in her ankle.

She was going to lose today. And she knew it with all her might.

She could vividly remember the words Ryoma told her a few nights ago, while he was discussing with her information he had gathered about her opponent. Even then, Ryoma already knew the odds of her winning was close to none. The girl she's competing against was the very girl everyone said was a shoo in for the trophy. She was a regular ace who had her eye out on going professional after high school.

Sakuno wipes her hand on her skirt before reaching out to shake the hand her opponent offered.

The highschooler from the other day was right. Today, she would lose. She was certain.

Taking a breath as the umpire called them to the ready, as the audience silenced, Sakuno positioned herself near the end of the court lines and closed her eyes. Feeling the warm rays of the sun on her face, she released the long, deep breath she's been holding in. And in that first pok, in that first service of the neon ball being hit to her side of the court, she leapt to her feet and, dropping her elbow in the right angle, received the service on the sweetspot of her racket and sliced it to the opposite side of the court with the speed and precision she's been honing for a long time now, and garnered her first point of the day.

As the match progressed, when break was called half-time, the two were close to equal footing, with Sakuno having advantage.

Ryoma was never the paranoid sort. But, he wasn't stupid either. He was in the middle, where common sense existed.

So, when he noticed that, since walking back to his apartment from the convenience store, two men in dark hoodies were following close behind him; he knew something was going to go down.

From their silhouettes, Ryoma could tell they were taller than him. And one of them, definitely bulkier. Two grown men, who may have a knife; he couldn't risk it - Tokyo, he then realized, seemed to have grown unsafe these years he's been away.

Instead of facing them head on, Ryoma decided to walk towards his apartment complex; thinking of making a run on them at the next corner. But, before he could, the two men sped up.

Ryoma shot a glance over his shoulder. The unknown men were right behind him. And suddenly, each grabbed him by the arm and together, they lifted him off his feet. "Oi," His voice cracked, looking around; trying to at least catch a glimpse of his attackers. "Oi," Ryoma just couldn't believe his luck. "Oi, oi!"

Suddenly his stalkers start shaking. And one of them fall to their knees; making all of them crumble to the floor with him. "HA!" He cried out for air. "I- can't- breathe-!" He wheezed in laughter.

Ryoma's expression just flatlines dead at the sight of one Eiji Kikumaru holding his stomach in utter, gut-wrenching laughter. And beside him was Momoshiro Takeshi, trying to catch a breath or two in between laughing.

Deadpanned, Ryoma stands and dusts off the dirt that got on his clothes. And, as his upperclassmen laughed their hearts out, with a dead expression on his face, he raises a foot and pushes them to the ground; one toppling over the other. "Bastards." He hissed to himself as he went into his apartment building, leaving both Momo and Eiji rolling on the floor, laughing.

"Wait!" Momo cried after him, struggling to get to his feet.

Ryoma paid them no heed and proceeded to the lift. His seniors managed to shove their way into the elevator with him. "How did you guys find me?" The young pro eventually asked them.

"The coach told us." Momo grinned, leaning against the wall; watching the numbers change from floor to floor on the screen in front of them.

"Hm." Ryoma's face soured, playing off a cold demeanor. Then, Ryoma's eyes drifted to Momo's head. Momo's gaze followed his and, realizing Ryoma was looking at his manbun, starts to grin proudly - "What a stupid hairdo." Ryoma scoffed lightheartedly.

When the elevator doors opened to Ryoma's floor, without warning, Eji lunges at the irritable Ryoma. And, with his arms over Ryoma's shoulders, he patted his friend's chest and said on the young man's behalf, "Just admit you missed us, ne? Ne?" Eiji laughed.

At this, Ryoma starts to smirk.

Walking to Ryoma's apartment, Eiji clung onto him like a cape the entire hallway down. And, when they stop in front of Ryoma's apartment, the college student thought out loud, resting his chin on top of Ryoma's head as the latter unlocked his front door, "You're treating tonight, right, o-chibi?"

Ryoma turned to face his senior, blinking at him bitterly; as if the latter grew another head.

"Of course he is!" Momo answered for Ryoma, entering the apartment first, the moment Ryoma opened the door. Then, falling on the nearest couch, looked back at the pair by the front door with a huge grin on his face. "Anyone in the mood for sushi?" He laughed, cheekily waving his phone overhead. "I'm ordering."

Just like that, Ryoma's smirk disappears; and he sourly remembers he dropped his groceries in the streets earlier.

Chapter Text

Momoshiro looked at the things scattered on his dormitory bed, contemplating which to bring.

He was travelling to Tokyo after lunch.

This would be his first time returning to Tokyo since the second semester started nearly a month ago in September. And he thought, this time, mainly due to his excitement, he'd splurge on taking the 1-hr shinkansen ride to Tokyo.

The impromptu trip came about when Eiji called him around a week ago, screaming to his ear how Ryoma was back in town - after god knows how long. Understandably angry, the two seniors ranted lengthily about inconsiderate kouhais, how fame easily went to one's head, and how they were going to beat the daylights out of him until he recognized their (Ryoma's senior's) worth to him.

For over a week, Momo thought his university classes were a breeze to him. He worked way harder than usual, unconsciously thinking he'd die before his cocky kouhai made fun of his grades. For a week, he'd randomly fall into a laughing fit, remembering the stupid things they got into in Junior High. And for a week, he evaded his college peers like the plague; in fear of being dragged to a bar and end up spending whatever he saved up from his measly allowance.

He wouldn't trade his university life for anything. But damn was he beyond thrilled to be seeing Ryoma after all these years.

The last time they saw each other, Momo tried to stifle a laugh at the realization - two years. They last saw each other two years ago.

Man, Momo thought to himself with a huge grin, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked over everything he's piled to bring along with him back to Tokyo; Ryoma was going to piss his pants.

"Ah!" Taka-san cried, waving his hands to stop his fellow trainee. "That's for a VIP!"

His fellow trainee looked back at him with a confused expression, setting down the wooden tray of their premium sushi. "VIP?"

Taka-san smiled at him, nodding.

Before long, he was on their restaurant's motorcycle, wearing a jacket over his chef's uniform. The engine popped and rumbled to life with the turn of the keys. And with a wave, Taka-san was off to an unfamiliar address, to sneak a short reunion with his old junior high school buddies.

When Ryoma opened the door for him later that night, it took every ounce of Taka-san's being not to ball into tears.

Ryoma was more than surprised and awkwardly stood there, watching Taka-san piece himself together.

"Sorry, Echizen-kun," He wiped his tears with his sleeves. And, with his eyes glittering, asked, "But when did you get so tall?"

At this, Ryoma flushes. And behind him, Eiji and Momo fall into a laughing fit. For the two, Ryoma was the same old kid with the annoying catchphrase. For Taka-san on the other hand, Ryoma was a cherished younger brother. And, Taka-san sniffled, seeing his younger brother more handsome and taller, he just couldn't help himself. "Look at you," He laughed amid the happy tears in his eyes. "Off winning grand slams. Next thing we know, you're off getting married and raising a family!"

Eiji and Momo exchanged shocked expressions, then ended up laughing even more.

Ryoma shook his head in embarrassment. "I'm only seventeen, senpai." He didn't know how to calm his senior down. Awkwardly, he patted the young sushi chef in the shoulder. "It'll be ages before then."

Taka-san laughed his tears away. "I'll be watching, Echizen-kun."

As Taka-san left, Ryoma couldn't help but think to himself, with a small smile on his lips; that he's always liked Taka-san.

On the other hand, sourly turning back to the two noisy college students wolfing down the expensive sushi that was just delivered, he couldn't say he felt the same about them. "Oi!" He called out in annoyance. Shutting his front door, he gritted amid the smirk forming on his lips. "At least leave me some."

Momo quickly looked for the best piece in the tray and snatched it as Ryoma fell on the floor beside them, crossing his legs under the kotatsu table. "Here," He held the piece up to a taken aback Ryoma.

"Thanks," He said, eating the piece. And, in the first bite, blurts out in surprise. "It's really good,"

"What about me?" Eiji cried childishly, gesturing for Momo to feed him.

"What?" Momo looked at him in disbelief. Eiji had literally just stuffed his face with four consecutive pieces. "Fine." He said, looking for a piece. Then, without warning, shoved one into Eiji's welcoming mouth.

"Oi," Ryoma looked on with caution.

Then, as expected, Eiji cries bloody murder; trying to swallow the wasabi sushi Momo fed him. "Heartless!" He sobbed. Then, chucked a packet of soy sauce at the laughing Momo.

"Do you have water?" Momo eventually asked as he beats on his chest, the sushi wasn't going down as fast as he ate.

Ryoma nodded, quickly stuffing another piece of sushi in his mouth before standing to get bottled water from the fridge. He opened the ref and squatted in front of it, looking for whatever else he could bring out for his guests.

"So," Momo started when Ryoma handed him a water bottle. "When did you get back?"

Ryoma shrugged before taking his seat. "A couple of days ago?"

"Right after winning?" Eiji asked off-handedly, looking for another piece of tuna.

Ryoma looked at his senior rather defensively. "Hm."

"Why're you back?" Both Eiji and Momo asked coincidentally, genuinely intrigued.

Nonchalant, Ryoma just shrugs; "Training Ryuzaki." He says off-handed and picks another piece of sushi from the tray.

A second passes. And Eiji and Momo looked at each other in confusion, then to Ryoma, expectantly.

Ryoma only looked back with an expression Momo couldn't place. And, for a second, he felt uneasy; thinking, just for a fraction of a second, that maybe, there was more to Ryoma's return than meets the eye.

Chapter Text

Sakuno's eyes perked up. A smile spread on her lips at the sight of Ryoma. "Had a rough night?"

Ryoma shook then scratched his head. Dropping his gear on a bench, said, "You can say that."

"Senpai-tachi visited you?" She said. Her grandmother had told her.

Ryoma could only nod, trying to forget the headache that was last night. He could still remember Momo whining about him having a small bed and a barely furnished apartment. And how Eiji farted the night away under the sheets. It was so bad that Ryoma was forced to sleep on the tiny couch in the living room.

Also, his brow twitched, only now realizing - someone must have adjusted the temperature last night to make it colder than he was comfortable with.

Why his seniors had to sleepover when they lived not far from his place was another point that passed his mind last night.

But damn, Ryoma ticked. He couldn't get over the farting. How Eiji gobbled up all that sushi after later confessing he just had two large servings of curry was beyond him.

"Must've been fun." Ryoma almost missed Sakuno say.

With a knotted brow, he shook his head again. "Trust me," Sakuno's smile grew as his frown soured. "It wasn't."

It was a little past eight in the morning. Sakuno was on her nth set. And Ryoma was warming up to play a game with her as he did from time to time, to see if her progress finally made her a worthy opponent.

When he approached her with a racket in hand, he swore her eyes grew as wide as saucers. Last he played a with her, she begged him to at least tell her before hand. He pursed her lips, swearing he forgot. Either way, he thought, her knowing ahead of time didn't change the fact he'd play against her. A game was a game.

"Let's play," He told her before anything else.

Sakuno's brows knotted, and her hands came together as if in a prayer. "Ryoma-kun, I'm- I,"

Ryoma looked at her, unamused. "You're what?" He asked her flatly, finding the return of her stutter as annoying as before.

"I'm," She sighed at the straight expression on Ryoma's face. And, said as a word of caution. "I'm still no good."

Ryoma only taps his racket against his shoulder and walks off to his side of the court.

This, Sakuno thought as she positioned herself, was going to be a dreadfully long and tedious game.

"Let's start fixing your service," Ryoma tells her over the distance. And Sakuno took it as a cue to make her service. She dribbled the ball, quickly tossed it overhead and hit it with a spin towards Ryoma. Ryoma, however, didn't move an inch as the ball made its mark on the court floor and bounced back, hitting the steel gates of the enclosure.

To say Sakuno was astounded was an understatement, did she already improve that much; she tried not to smile.

Suddenly, Ryoma cuts off her premature celebration and says, "Again,"

The smile on Sakuno's lips soured; and again, she made her service. And again, Ryoma refused to budge.

"Again," He tells her.

Sakuno was growing irritated as the number of balls in Ryoma's side of the court grew.

"Again!" Sakuno flinched. And, her lips pursing in annoyance, walks towards Ryoma. His eyes followed her, brows knotted. "I told you to serve again." His voice was reprimanding. And Sakuno was having none of it.

"I know!" She flat out glared at him, taking her coach aback. "I don't have anymore tennis balls!"

Ryoma couldn't help but hide his growing smirk as he watched her stuff her pockets with all the tennis balls she could carry. "Hurry up." He told her, quite lightly; very well knowing how his trainee was going to take it.

Sakuno turned to him with a red face and angrily chucks a tennis ball at him, "You hurry up!"

Ryoma only starts laughing. "You've changed so much," He tells her lightheartedly.

"I didn't change," She found absolutely nothing about their current situation funny, "I just realized how annoying you could be." Then, she basically stomps back to her side of the court, and with a foul look on her face; one that made Ryoma laugh even more, made her service without so much of a warning. And without waiting for Ryoma to not move again, she sent another service his way, one stronger and with a nastier spin; one that reflected her current level of irritation.

"Oi," Ryoma mouthed, almost hit by a random twist serve; although, lowkey amused himself, thinking that they were finally getting somewhere. The next thing he knows, he starts moving back and catches Sakuno's next service with a sharp slice. The ball bounces back in record time, catching both of them off guard.

"You-" Sakuno stutters, "You-"

Not wanting to give her any satisfaction, Ryoma quickly cuts her off and blurts out - "Again!" Restoring the world to its rightful order.

Sakuno grimaces and sends another angry service his way. She knew she was finally getting somewhere, the shock on Ryoma's face wasn't a fluke. She knew she will never reach his caliber, but the satisfaction of making him realize she was far better than what he initially believed - that was more than enough for her. So, she dribbles the ball, and breathes out as she tossed it over head; not minding the sweat falling down her eyelid, and hit a twist serve. And, when she sees Ryoma move for the second time that session, she bent lower and catches his return, which had a surprisingly tricky spin. Nonetheless, she was able to return it.

Ryoma effortlessly catches her return. And, smirks when he realizes they were finally playing a game. Little by little, he throws her a number of nasty slices, of incalculable lobs and smashes. While she did miss a lot of them, he succumbed to her will. They were finally playing quite a decent game.

"You didn't have to go that far." Ryoma said later on with a laugh of disbelief and genuine amazement as he helped her up. He had sent a slow lob into the inner half of her court, to the leftmost side right by the net. And before anyone knew what happened, Sakuno had lunged forward in an attempt to catch the ball.

"I-" Sakuno was red in the face, and huffed as she shook her head and said, "I know." She tried to catch her breath. "I know." She couldn't help but laugh at herself and how stupid she must've looked. "I'm sorry. I got too caught up in the match."

"No," Ryoma smirked as he walked beside the limping girl, her knee bruised from the fall. "This commitment is good."

Sakuno turned to Ryoma, surprise on her face. "Really?"

Ryoma nodded back at her, an amused expression on his face. "Really." He repeated.

On the bench, he cleaned Sakuno's wound. And, for the first time in a long while, Sakuno felt like she was making progress.

"Ne," Ryoma later calls out to Sakuno while they were packing their gear away. "Want to tag along?" Sakuno turned to him, surprised by the invitation. "I'm seeing Momo-senpai off." He continued.

"I, ah," Sakuno looked away, unsure as she fished out her phone to check the time.

"You don't have to." Ryoma reminded her.

"No," Sakuno shook her head. "I just checked to see if I have time." She smiled at him, apologetic; "I-" She sighed, "I don't think I have time."

Ryoma shook his head. "Don't sweat it. It's out of the way, anyway." He scratches the back of his head.

"Oh?"

"We're meeting downtown, in Shibuya." Ryoma tells her as he slides the strap of his dufflebag over a shoulder.

"With your gear?"

Ryoma nods, finding her line of questions odd.

Mulling it over, Sakuno finally decides, "Then, I guess I can join you. I'm meeting a friend downtown as well."

"Good," Ryoma smirks and starts leading them to the nearest station.

Chapter Text

"He's late."

Ryoma hissed as he paced back and forth the block.

For the nth time that morning, he checked his watch again.

Again, he angrily told himself, "He's late."

Both he and Sakuno arrived at the designated meeting place he had set with Momo fifteen minutes early. And as the minutes passed, Sakuno was first to excuse herself to go on ahead. Still, minutes after that, Momo was nowhere to be found.

Ryoma checked his watch again and irritably takes note that it's been thirty-one minutes since he's been standing by the sidewalk, waiting for someone who didn't even have the decency to answer his call.

Suddenly, he notices quick, heavy steps approaching him from behind that he turns around and, gracefully taking a fluid sidestep, scoffs at the sight of one Momoshiro Takeshi trying to catch the full weight of his body with a knee - after a failed attempt at tackling Ryoma from behind. But before he even could, his junior tipped him over by the butt with the tip of his dirty shoe.

"It's funny." Ryoma muses as the pair walked down the market. Momo went back and forth peeking into different small restaurants and the menu boards they had lined up, looking for a place to eat. "I never would've imagined you'd end up going to university."

Momo threw a smirk his junior's way. "I always knew you'd take the tennis world by storm."

"Hn." Ryoma nodded, the coy curve on his lips, ever-present.

"So, what now? You signing on a big deal yet?" Momo grinned at the boy knowingly.

Ryoma only shakes his head, and thinks the sushi stand beside them looked like a good place to eat.

"How come?" Momo was genuinely perplexed. "Their offers weren't sweet enough?" He joked.

"Maybe." Ryoma shrugs.

To which, Momo laughs, thinking his junior gullible. "You have any big games lined up here?"

"I'm not allowed to do anything else, am I?" Ryoma laughs dryly. "I have no choice but to sign another deal, don't I?" He sounded sarcastic.

"That's not what I meant." Momo stops walking, surprised by the turn of their conversation.

"At seventeen," His junior continues, accusative. "Everyone seemed to have already figured out my life for me."

Then, Ryoma stops walking as well and faces him with a blank expression. "I honestly don't even know what I'm doing here." He starts to smirk. "That's what you wanted to know the other night, right?"

Momo was caught off guard. He didn't know what to say to the clouded expression on Ryoma's face.

Before Momo could take back what he said, to ask if there was anything wrong, Ryoma suddenly makes a turn and disappears into a restaurant. Momo runs after him, and surprise washes his face the instant he enters the small eatery; the bell of the front door still ringing in welcome. "I found her." Ryoma simply tells him and leads them to the table Sakuno had reserved for them.

Something thick lodged itself in Momo's throat. He froze. Had he spoke, his words would come out in a ridiculous stutter. It was a miracle he heard what Sakuno had said when they saw each other, "You found Momo-senpai." She greets Ryoma with a pleased light in her eyes. She stands from her seat and bows at them in greeting.

"Yeah." Ryoma just shrugs as he walks past to go straight to the handwashing area, leaving Sakuno looking back at him expectantly. Then, remembering Momo was in front of her, turns her attention to him.

"It's been a while, ne, Momo-senpai?" Sakuno smiles sweetly. And Momo, not knowing what to say, only scratched the back of his head uneasily. "You look well."

Momo only laughs awkwardly. And like that, he forgets the conversation he had with Ryoma.

Their group ate in a weird silence. Sakuno was seated in between Momo and Ryoma. She thought Ryoma would sit beside Momo, and was surprised when he took the empty seat next to her. She found the both of them odd. Although she's known them together back when they were in junior high, their dynamic shouldn't have changed so drastically, right?

After their meal filled with palpable silence, Ryoma basically bullied Sakuno into joining them in seeing Momoshiro off at the train station. It was obvious Ryoma was in a mood. And she surmised it came from Momo being late to his appointment with Ryoma.

"He's lucky, you know." Momo later tells her out of the blue; when Ryoma paid for the bill. "That he has you around."

"It's just his luck, I suppose." Sakuno humored him, not at all understanding the odd dynamic between Momo and Ryoma. She could only wonder if they were always this way or if their distance was the inevitable effect of their time apart. "To be stuck with me." She jokes lightheartedly.

"Don't say that." He tells her with a small smirk as he watched Ryoma frazzle the employee tending to him. "You're a better friend to him than I've been."

Sakuno was genuinely surprised by his statement. "How- Why?"

Momo chuckles as he stands from his seat, seeing Ryoma leave the restaurant without so much as calling their attention. "Because you know when to keep your distance."

Later, when Ryoma watches Sakuno bid farewell to Momo, Ryoma thinks back to the night before and starts to sober up.

"You know," Momo starts to tell Ryoma, but then pursed his lips. Hesitating, he looks away instead; unable to meet Ryoma's eyes. And, only says lamely, as his train slowed to a stop in front of them, "You guys take care."

As Ryoma watched Momo walk away, he couldn't help but feel a rage build in his gut. He knew that look, that nonconfrontational expression, that averted gaze. And it made him sick to his core. All he thought, as Momo's train left the station, was how dare he make him feel so small with his disappointed expression. How dare he show him pity.

Beside him, Sakuno looks at him intently; mulling over the words of Momo. For the first time since their reunion, she studied the expression in Ryoma's face. And she finds herself taken aback by the disturbed and angry look he wore; by the clenched fist on his side. What happened to them? She couldn't believe it. They seemed fine just this morning. "Ryoma-kun," She softly called out. "Did something happen?"

A second seems to pass before Ryoma looks at her with a glare in his eyes that made her feel like the most irritating person in the world. And, without bothering to answer her, he only turns to leave.

Chapter Text

Ryoma was wearing a yukata when he opened the door. The surprised look on his face and his disheveled hair told her he wasn't expecting anyone – let alone the girl with perpetually flushed cheeks and a pair of wide doe-eyes looking up at him in surprise.

"I, um…" Sakuno stutters, trying to keep herself from gawking. "…Obaa-san wanted me to bring over some treats for you." Awkwardly, she raised the hand holding onto a red bag of traditional sweets. "I, um, I hope you like it." She smiles uneasily, unable to keep a straight face; which the young man in front of her didn't seem to notice.

With a stolid expression, Ryoma's head dips, eyes cast to the bag. "It's too much." His voice was hoarse in the morning, making Sakuno wonder if she woke him. He simply takes a step aside and invites her in into his home in residential girl meekly followed behind him, surveying the beautiful traditional Japanese house she once had the privilege of entering years ago. The furnishings looked similar to what she remembered, if not duller from the lack of illumination. Only natural lighting lit the long hallways of the household. On their walk to the receiving parlor, everything seemed untouched, as if no one had been inhabiting it for the past few weeks.

Eyes wandering, Sakuno is able to pinpoint the places in the household Ryoma frequented. And, in the den, she lightly jokes, gesturing to the coffee table littered with empty cup noodles and used chopsticks. "You're not the tidiest person, are you, Ryoma-kun?"

Ryoma scratches his head and, grumbles incoherently, something along the lines of, "Unannounced visit, woke me up, it's my house." as he starts clearing away the mess. At this, Sakuno starts to chuckle. Then, shifting her cross body bag, she helps her unamused trainer.

They sat on the cushions in the open den that offered a view of the shrine where Nanjiroh would walk up to ring the gong back then. Ryoma took the seat beside her and served her tea in the traditional manner, surprising the girl holding her tea. In a lame attempt to start a conversation, Sakuno says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

The young man only shrugs, "It's too late for apologies, isn't it."

Flushing, Sakuno's mouth starts to flutter in embarrassment, about to apologize again when Ryoma just stops her with a shake of his head.

"I was kidding." He said rather dryly, still with a smirk on his lips.

After that, a bout of silence ensued.

Growing uneasy from the lack of conversation, Sakuno starts again, "I hear you're going to university?" The surprised look Ryoma gives her makes her eyes widen, "I didn't mean to pry." She shakes her head defensively. "I— um— Momo-senpai had mentioned it to me— in passing."

Ryoma didn't seem bothered. Aloof and nonchalant, he tells her simply, "It's nothing." Then, he stands and starts putting away the dishes. Awkwardly, Sakuno was left to stare at her empty hands, mentally kicking herself for the slip up.

When the boy returned, she looked up, about to apologize yet again, when Ryoma suddenly places an opened envelope next to her. The girl takes a breath, suddenly feeling faint as she took the letter written in embossed paper and read it. As she did, the boy sat on wooden floorboards, leaning against the pillar and staring at the pond before them. It had no koi fishes, only the clear water Ryoma replenished when he first returned.

"Have you decided?" Sakuno asks him softly, unable to look up as she set down the piece of paper, afraid of the affirmative answer Ryoma was sure to give her; afraid of knowing he was to decline the acceptance letter to leave again. Then she smiled to herself, looking up at the boy as he gazed outside. He never meant to stay. Momoshiro was wrong. Even she knew this would be his answer.

They remained silent, watching as the wild flowers and weeds swayed with the breeze. As time passed, they fell into a companionable silence, willfully choosing to forget their worries even if only temporarily.

"You should reply to them." Sakuno says after a while. "To decline, I mean." She smiled when he turned to her." So they can offer the slot to someone else." When Ryoma said nothing, she added – wanting to confirm her assumptions. "You are to continue competing professionally, aren't you?" She puts on an encouraging smile as a display of her support and unwavering devotion to his career – to him, her first love, her Ryoma-kun.

Ryoma slides to the ground, not knowing what to reply to the girl.

"I haven't decided." Resigned, he shifts to turn to her as he laid on the cold wooden floor. "But, I have to – soon." Then, he sat up abruptly, realizing. "What do you think I should do?"

"I—I—" Sakuno stuttered, feeling cornered. "You know I won't tell you, Ryoma-kun. It's your decision to make." She reprimands him lightly. Ryoma was about to turn away, irked, when the girl added. "But know that," He turns to look back at her. Sakuno's voice deepens with a confidence he couldn't place, a certain resolution in her words. "Whatever you choose, there's no right or wrong. Whatever you decide, you - please do your best to claim it as your own."

Ryoma is taken off guard by the conviction in her tone and finds himself nodding.

"I intend to."

When it was time for the girl to leave, Sakuno only smiled at him meekly. "Thank you for having me, Ryoma-kun." She bowed before searching for her shoes on the rack by the front door. "And for telling me. I'm sorry if it seemed like I was pressuring you." Her expression, guilty.

Ryoma watched, seeking to help if she needed any assistance as she arranged her things. And, before she left, he suddenly stopped her.

"You weren't." He says in a quiet tone. Sakuno only turns to smile at him so beautifully that, for a moment, his mood elates and his chest fills with warmth.

"I'll see you, Ryoma-kun." The girl bows, her hair falling over her face as she looked for her other shoe and slipped it on.

Ryoma stays rooted where he watched her closed the door behind her and wondered, from his sudden light-headedness and the uneasiness in his gut – whether this was it; the feeling of falling in love.

He returns to play with Karupin without knowing.

Later, when he pulls out the last of the sweets Sakuno brought over to place them in the refrigerator, he notices a red envelope in the bottom of the paper bag she left. His interest caught, he opens it and finds a number of fortune slips – all dictating he'd have the best of luck. He shakes his head back and laughs in disbelief at the girl's unchanging quirks.

Come Monday, Ryoma is back on his bench. It was six-ten in the morning and Sakuno was nowhere to be found. Ryoma stood from where he sat, irritated for the past fifteen minutes or so.

"You're late." He reprimanded the puffy girl, a scowl set on his handsome face. He was taken back when Sakuno only flashed him a wide grin, somewhat amazed by her absolute disregard to his evidently foul disposition. It was only when she lifted a magazine over her face that he understood why she was so happy. The same reason, as well, behind the downward spiraling he suddenly wrenching in his gut.

"I saw someone reading it on the train. I just had to get a copy!" Her expression was in genuine awe and excitement, it made Ryoma uneasy how much it seemed to matter to her – his popularity.

"Everyone in school was talking about it the other day," She laughed. "Congratulations Ryoma-kun!" She cheered, her cheeks red with glee. Handing him the magazine, she added ecstatically, "Did you know they were putting you on the cover?"

Ryoma looked back at himself, at the handsome face of the Japanese boy donning his signature white cap on the cover of the magazine – the infamous sixteen-year-old Grand Slam title holder. "It doesn't matter."

"Sorry?"

The young man looked up to find Sakuno's brows knit in confusion. "It's just a magazine."

Sakuno couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh.

"It's Time magazine, Ryoma-kun – an international magazine." She continued to laugh at his absence of emotion. "And you're on the cover! You're the 2017 Person of the Year!" Skimming through its pages, Sakuno remarked. "Even the few I know who get into magazines are only in local ones here in Tokyo." She glanced to him with a smile. "But then again," She chuckled to herself. "They're not you are they, Ryoma-kun?"

A smirk makes its way to his lips, noting, "You should stop spending so much time around Osakada."

This only makes Sakuno laugh. "Still," she forced, giving him the copy. "You have to learn to cherish these moments."

"No need. Keep your copy."

Sakuno only shook her head, then, smiling, pulled open her bag to show him several other copies of the magazine. Ryoma's eyes widened; his brows knit. He turned to her and she looked back, eyes widening in gradual realization; like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Why do you have five copies?" He coughed in amazement.

Red and embarrassed, Sakuno swallowed before stuttering in a mouthful. "I—I was going to -because, I um—" Then, before the astonished teen could keep teasing her, she dropped her bag and started with her laps.

Oddly enough, Ryoma ended up laughing. Left on his seat, a smirk makes its way to his features, thankful for the semblance of normalcy their morning routine gives him.

A few hours later, before Sakuno had to go to class, Ryoma had excused himself. The girl turned to follow the prodigy, her eyes watching him wave and jog toward intimidating men in suits. The exchange didn't last long.

"They were here before." She said, eventually approaching Ryoma. The two well-suited foreigners were familiar; the same individuals, in fact, she saw talking to Ryoma not so long ago. After all the days, she has spent in the game; beside the most sought-after tennis athlete, she came to realize just who those men were. She didn't turn to ask her friend what future they had in store for him nor whether or not he accepted their offer. Simply from the distant gaze of Ryoma, she knew nothing had come from the exchange – both for them, and especially for him. No agreement; no insight.

Beside her, Ryoma only nodded.

The next time they meet, Sakuno was coming back from the grocery when she accidentally runs into Ryoma on the way back home. The both of them were surprised at first. They didn't normally see each other outside training.

It is who Sakuno breaks the initial shock by giving Ryoma a big warm smile which, he doesn't know how to reciprocate.

"When I smile, Ryoma-kun," She finds herself laughing lightly at the constipated expression on his face. "It's only polite to smile back."

Ryoma huffed and couldn't help but smirk, eyes settling on Sakuno's brightening grin.

"Oh," She realizes, gesturing to the young man by her side. "This is Tomoya-kun." She starts to laugh. Then, teasing, proceeds to tell Ryoma, "He never believes me when I say I know you."

For the first time in what feels like forever, Ryoma turns his gaze and finds himself looking at a stranger. "Hn," He grunts in greeting then turns his attentions back at the ever obliging Sakuno.

"Hey," Tomoya nods back awkwardly. Then, having lost Ryoma's interest, scratches the back of his head out of sheer awkwardness, and tells Sakuno. "I guess I'll go, then."

Sakuno's brows furrow at Tomoya. "Are you sure?" Then, guilty, quickly adds, "I'm sorry for making you go so far out of your way."

Tomoya only smiles back, genuine, tender. "It's fine." Then, squeezing her hand, gives his farewell. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Both Sakuno and Ryoma's eyes follow Tomoya's back as he leaves. Then, Ryoma asks Sakuno, "Who is he?"

Sakuno's hazel eyes turn to him, brows furrowing in a growing suspicion. "My boyfriend." She answers.

"Your boyfriend?" Ryoma repeats, almost in such disbelief that it offends Sakuno. "How come," His low voice almost hitches; he wonders why the thought never occurred to him – her having a boyfriend. "—you've never told me?"

"Well," Sakuno's smile failed to reach her eyes. "You never asked."

He looks up. And for the first time since he's started training her all those weeks ago, he realizes she was right. All this while, he has thought so little of Sakuno that he never noticed the young man who would always show up after their sessions wearing a warm smile, waiting for her to finish packing her gear. That same person who sat in the bleachers beside Tomoka; who was also one of those familiar faces blurred in the background during Sakuno's victory party.

All this time, he's now come to realize, he thought of only himself. And the realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Chapter Text

Something was different between them. Although it was not evident in their routine, in their conversation, a distance between them had formed. It seemed as though whatever progress their relationship had reached stagnated suddenly, abruptly. And, as the young lady uneasily averted her gaze from Ryoma's for the nth time that morning, she knew it was he who drew a line between them; one that wasn't there before, one that neither dare cross.

"You got that, right?" There was a hint of annoyance in Ryoma's tone, reprimanding her for what he thought was lack of focus.

Sakuno only nodded stiffly in reply. Her gaze was running elsewhere.

"I shouldn't even be telling you this. Get your head in the game, will you?"

Doe eyes turned to him. A tear of sweat trickles down the side of her face. "All right." She breathes, wiping the sweat on the side of her head with the band around her wrist.

"It's a hot day. I don't want you in the court longer than you should." He finishes. "Wrap this game up."

At this, Sakuno huffs and, with a resolute expression, returns to the court where her opponent was already waiting.

A few minutes into the game, Ryoma shot to his feet, sweat dripping from the side of his face, about to curse to the heavens when he caught himself and simply turned to the steaming ground beneath him. The heat was scourging hot that day. And out on the arena, he knew that Sakuno was far into her limit.

"7-Point Tiebreak!" Called the umpire.

Sakuno wiped the sweat over her eyes. She was parched, her mouth dry, but she knew drinking water would do no change. She took a step forward, she knew she did, but it took a second before her body actually moved. Her senses were lagging. She shook her head, trying to get a hold of herself. She turns to the umpire, blinded by the sun behind him, and waits for his signal. But, it never came.

With her head spinning, it takes her a while before she notices a group of people running towards the other side of the court. Suddenly, she is hit and brushed aside from behind. And, as she thinks she's about to fall to her knees, a sturdy figure to her left steadies her and keeps her aright.

"It's this damn heat." Ryoma grits, his lips next to her ear. Then, he turns to her, surprised at the paleness of her face. "Can you make it to the bench?"

Sakuno blinks and thinks she nodded.

"What happened?" She asked, turning back to the other end of the court. "I can't see anything apart from everything glittering."

"Minomoto fainted."

"What?" Sakuno rasped in shock. And, before Ryoma is able to stop her, she pulls off his support – about to run to the other end of the court in anxiety – when she halts. The field before her seemed to have doubled in length. The next thing she knows, she is swept into Ryoma's arms and brought to their side of the court, where a cool wet towel was thrown to her.

"We can't have you fainting as well."

Sakuno looks up at Ryoma and, finding his expression dangerous, conceded.

Later, when she leaves the shower room, Ryoma is waiting outside. He himself had changed his clothes. With her hair damp, she stops before him, waiting for him to speak – to tell her the judge's decision. In her gut, she already knew what had come of the game. And, the instant Ryoma turns to her, her lips quiver and her eyes fill with tears. In her mind, all that registered was that it was over. All of it was over.

So, she cried.

With a sour taste in his mouth, Ryoma took a step forward and coaxed Sakuno's sobs into his embrace, finding the end, as it was, unwelcome.

Sakuno found it ironic; how the world continued to move when her life lost all meaning. It was unforgiving how it didn't matter to anyone that she lost a huge part of her life. It's been a day since she lost the competition. But her emotions felt as raw as the moment she first found out. She wanted nothing more than the world to stop turning; to pause for a moment while she coped with the loss. While she never expected to reach far into the tournament, she couldn't deny the fact that for a moment - she hoped, she believed she could win. Then, she guessed, maybe, that was just Ryoma's effect on her - that with enough perseverance, anything was attainable.

Gaze lowering to the dirt path she took to the shrine, she realized that he thought wrong. His confidence in her could only get her so far. Because, unlike him, she didn't have his skill, his talent. She had nothing.

And, she sighed, finally looking up, it was time she accepted this. Placating herself, Sakuno decided then and there, that she would stay within her means. Now, she could be a better girlfriend; she could go on dates in a moment's notice and return the sacrifices Tomoya's made for her when she first started in the tournament. She could hang out with Tomoka more and enjoy their last year in high school together; maybe double date. And, Ryoma - her brows rise, her gaze meeting familiar Cheshire eyes; striking, handsome. By the entrance of the shrine, amid waves of people stood Ryoma donning a yukata. His hair was astray; his demeanor aloof. By the stone staircase leading to the shrine, her initial surprise turns into a smile on her pink lips, wondering when the young man would stop surprising her. She never would have imagined he'd wear traditional clothes in public. "I can only wonder how Tomo talked you into coming; let alone in a yukata." Then, she remembered she saw him once wearing a yukata at his home.

The young man shrugged, a smirk playing on his handsome features. "It's comfortable."

Sakuno's smile stiffens, averting her gaze; a light blush touching her cheeks. Then, regaining her composure, tells him good-natured, "You look handsome."

Ryoma only quirks a brow at her. And, finds himself smirking. "Where's Yoshino?"

"Tomoya-kun?" Sakuno repeated in surprise. "He already made plans." Her voice was soft, not loud enough for Ryoma to hear. Not that he really cared to listen. He had already turned away and proceeded to the shrine where Tomoka and Kaidoh was waiting for them.

"What is this?!" Tomoka cried as the pair approached her, indignantly gesturing to Sakuno's casual clothing. "Where's your kimono?! Tell me you brought a change of clothes!"

The timid girl sighed and stole a glance at Kaidoh in hopes of knowing how to reply to appease her best friend. Of course, the university student had none to give.

"I came from an errand." Sakuno lamely made up. And Tomoka only gave her a disbelieving glare.

"Let's go." Ryoma cut in with a whine. Still unmoved, Tomoka turned her glare at Ryoma and was soon led away by Kaidoh's gentle tug.

"Fine." She conceded. And soon enough, she was engrossed with Kaidoh.

"Sorry." Sakuno whispers in passing at Ryoma as she took a few quick steps to walk alongside her best friend.

Before him, Ryoma watched as the auburn-haired girl giggling, whispering (what he suspected to be) a litany of apologies to Tomoka who only started laughing. The closeness between the three of them, Sakuno, Kaidoh and Tomoka in between, brought an odd sensation to his gut. And for a moment, he pauses in his step, a feeling akin to envy fills him.

"Ryoma-kun?" Sakuno calls to him, her face etched in worry.

He looks up and his lips quirk into a smirk. Sakuno always looked worried. "Walk with me." Ryoma simply says. And, Sakuno nods with a smile.

Though out of spirits, the brunette forced enthusiasm for the sake of company. Eyes wandering from booth to booth, her lips quirk at the sight of a spirit mask. She strayed from the group who didn't seem to notice. At the bazaar, she was about to buy a mask for the unenthused Ryoma but hesitated. She later opted to buy yakitori.

Unknown to her, Ryoma was behind her.

"Ryoma-kun." She greets in surprise, having thought he was with Tomoka and Kaidoh and away from the crowd. The handsome young man only looks down at her and she looks away, a flush making its way to her cheeks. When they made their purchase, they returned to where they left the couple. Only, the said couple was no longer there. "Let's wait for them here, neh?"

Ryoma only nods. They were quiet as they ate. The buzzing crowd was enough to fill the void of their silence.

"Tomoya-kun couldn't make it because he had to visit his parents." Sakuno suddenly says, much to Ryoma's surprise. The boy only nods, not knowing where she was heading at. "It's good, really. I mean," A self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips. "I don't know how to tell him I'm out of the tournament." Then, her cheeks flushing in humiliation as she absentmindedly played with her food. "And after telling him how hard we've been working." Her voice nearly broke.

Ryoma's brows creased. It was painful to listen to her. She was quick to revert to her old ways. The confidence she had gained over the past weeks vanished with a snap of a finger.

"What must he think of me?" When she looks up to him; when Ryoma meets her self-pitying stare, he released a frustrated sigh.

"Ryoma-kun," She starts. "I'm so sorry."

Ryoma's brows rise in genuine surprise, not understanding.

"For wasting your time." Still not getting it, Sakuno continued. "Because I lost."

At this, Ryoma only frowns, close to reprimanding her for apologizing when she didn't need to. So, instead, he simply grits, "Ryuzaki." And tries to keep himself from saying something he'd soon regret. Sakuno, in her vulnerable state, was not in a position to catch his foul way of address.

Thankfully, Tomoka and Kaidoh were back. The girl was carrying a teddy bear, and Kaidoh was sporting flushed cheeks. Seeing them, Ryoma rolled his eyes while Sakuno kept herself from squeaking.

After praying at the shrine, the group was divided by the long line behind them. For the second time that night, Sakuno and Ryoma were left to stand idly by the side, waiting for the couple happy lazing around in their own bubble. Sakuno, of course was happy for her best friend. But Ryoma, he could only fathom why Tomoka invited him along in the first place.

"Ryuzaki." Sakuno, who had been lost in her own thoughts, turned to Ryoma in surprise. "I appealed for re-assessment."

Sakuno's eyes widen and her brows start to knit in confusion. And Ryoma just looks ahead, nonchalant as he took a sip from his cup of hot rice wine. The hands of the girl holding the cardboard container of her own drink start to tremble. A rage swelled in the pit of her stomach.

"What?" She asks with a shaky voice. The taste in her mouth starts to sour. Then, she urged in a higher tone when Ryoma refused to speak. "Why did you do it?" She almost cries in utter disbelief.

Initially surprised by her tone of voice, Ryoma finally turns to face her with a straight expression; as if merely a matter of fact. "Because I know you wouldn't."

At this, Sakuno flushes red and before she is able to say anymore, Ryoma stands up and walks towards the couple waving over for them.

Sakuno is behind the group, not knowing where they were headed, seething and staring daggers at Ryoma's back. Her grief was quick to turn into emnity. Not wanting to cause a scene in front of the happy couple, she kept to herself and was battling between just leaving or confronting her unsympathetic trainer. She decided for the latter. It was unthinkable what he's done. She lost. There was nothing more to it than that.

When Tomoka and Kaidoh decided to play a game, as they walked away, Ryoma turned to Sakuno, knowing she had a mouthful to say. Oddly enough, she only glared at him, as if waiting for him to speak; to apologize.

"What?" Is all he bites. And Sakuno's glare deepens.

"You had no right to do it." She seethes. "And without even consulting with me!"

Ryoma just sighs.

"You're irrational."

"And you're a prick!"

It was Ryoma's turn to glare at her.

"What did you expect me to do?"

"Nothing!" Ryoma scoffed, exasperated. "I need you to stop— pause for just one second!" She ends up crying, her cheeks flushed red. "I lost already! Give it up, please! Take back the appeal!"

"If you stop now, you'll have a difficult time getting your head back into the game." Ryoma lashes at her, surprised by the intensity of his tone. He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to cool down. "You're the one who needs to wake up. You shouldn't have lost. The game didn't even end."

"But— I— did. I lost, Ryoma-kun!" She cries in frustration – at Ryoma, at the tournament, at herself. She turned away, looking as if she was about to walk away. But, she turned back to face him, a finger pointed angrily. "You shouldn't have done it." She practically yells at him. "You had no right to meddle! And without even asking me!" She repeated in indignation.

Defensive, Ryoma answers with the same heavy tone. "I was there. Your shots were cleaner. Undeniably, the point when the game ended was a close one – but, your advantage was clear. There's no question you should have won."

"You're wrong! She caught my slices perfectly and managed to alter the spin – that's why she scored as much as I did. And – I used my backhand even when I shouldn't have!"

Ryoma tried to keep from laughing at how senseless she was being. "That has nothing to do with the point-system – that's your playing style! Besides, you did them to catch her slices. Perfectly like how I taught you. That's why three out of your twelve points bounced out of the court in record time, before she could even take a step to stop it!"

"Cut it out!" Sakuno's hand angrily slices through the air between them and laughed bitterly. "We both know what you really think of my playing."

The boy raised his brows. "What?"

Sakuno continues to laugh self-deprecatingly.

"All of this is a lie, isn't it?" She says with a semblance of finality. At this, Ryoma's expression sobers. "You're doing this because it wouldn't have sat well with you, would it?" She looks away, unable to face him any longer. Unshed tears start stinging her eyes, and her voice grows coarse. "To have coached a loser."

Her eyes challenged him to deny her claim, to prove her wrong. She was so sure he wouldn't. She had never been so certain about anything in her life.

Biting her lip, eyes trembling and brimming with unshed tears, she - no longer knowing what to tell him, just now taken in utter disbelief at Ryoma's insensitivity - turned and walked away; leaving Ryoma standing there in astonishment at how little she thought of herself.

Before Ryoma leaves later in the evening, he turns back to Sakuno who looked up at him with dread in her eyes, afraid how he, of all people, could see right through her.

"Quit then." Sakuno's eyes tremble at the stillness of his tone, grave and biting. "You're right. There's no point to all of this."

Sakuno swallows the voice lodged in her throat. And her eyes stings with unshed tears.

"There's no point until you quit undermining yourself." He tells the coward before him. Her hazel doe eyes cast down in obvious disgust; frustrated at her shameful lack of self-confidence. "If not yourself, who else do you expect will help you? Support will come and go. But, your whole life, you'll have to live with yourself. How can you live your whole life with someone who doesn't believe in you?"

Sakuno is in an absolute blank. Her mouth was dry. And Ryoma words rang in her ears.

As he walked away, had she not been in the middle of a crowd, her tears of frustration, the same ones now pooling in the corners of her eyes, would've poured into a mess of sobs. How many times must she make a fool of herself in front of Ryoma? She thought in utter shame.

That night, as Ryoma walked away, she didn't doubt it would be the last he'd see of him; not in the courts, not at his home; nowhere. There was no longer anything linking them together. There was no reason, no relation, that would induce Ryoma to see a spineless coward like her.

Chapter Text

It was later in the night that Sakuno receives a message from Ryoma, stating as a matter of fact that their appeal was granted; that she was still in the tournament. She gets this text in the evening, after her shower. And, in her pajamas, she slides down against the back of her bedroom door; a wash of a million emotions consumed her – shame, guilt, anger, confusion, relief, – gratitude. As she held her phone to her heart, she was trembling and close to tears. Curling to a ball, the weight in her chest unbearable, she started to sob. All she could think of was Ryoma and how much he has given her. He was so amazing, so incredible. With him, it was as though nothing was ever impossible. Lips quivering, she told herself, how, how could she not fall in love with him; when, with him, she could become the person she always dreamt to be.

The next morning, when she enters their training court, she isn't surprised to see Ryoma in his usual bench. And when he looks up and sees her approaching, she gives him a small, tired smile and waves in greeting.

"You don't have your gear." Ryoma notes.

Sakuno only sits beside him on the bench, wearing a thick jacket over her shirt and shorts, her wavy auburn hair running free over her shoulders. Wiping the weariness from her face with her hands, sighing in a deep breath, she tells him, facing him with remorse in her glistening doe-eyes. "I'm so sorry, Ryoma-kun."

"It's nothing." He simply replies, thinking she was too close.

At this, Sakuno only smiles, wholly expecting he'd simply brush off her apology. Then, without impetus, she is surprised when Ryoma continues.

"When you feel like quitting," He starts. "Just remind yourself why you joined the competition in the first place." Then, a thought passed his mind. Shifting to face her, he asks; realizing that all this time, he never did bother to. "Why did you?"

Sakuno's eyes widen at his question. But, she doesn't hesitate, averting her eyes from his, saying, "Remember when you were first starting?" A reminiscent smile tugs on her lips. "When the whole world rooted against you; no one knew your name when you were mixed in with those foreigners. Everyone dismissed you because you were only thirteen years old. Then, with every tournament, you proved them wrong. Back then," She remembers fondly. "Everyone would watch together at Kawamura-senpai's sushi restaurant. It was like the team was competing with you whenever you took to the courts." Then, her expression changes. Her smile grows and a light in her eyes start to shine. "So many people look up to you, Ryoma-kun – including me."

A blush touched Sakuno's cheeks. And, turning to him, to a surprised, astounded Ryoma, she admitted; her smile that was brighter than the sun blinding him, enveloping his chest with a warmth, with a feeling so foreign, it unnerves him. "That's why I joined the competition." Her eyes glitter, glad to be finally telling him. "Because of you; I wanted to know how far I could make it."

Staring out the parted windows inside their classroom, each leaning on the open ledges, the two senior high school students watched as the breeze ruffled the branches of leaves before them. The atmosphere was peaceful, sublime. Most of their classmates were in the mess hall for their lunch break. It was one of those rare moments when time seemed to have slowed down, when it felt like they had all the time in the world to dream, to speak, to pause.

With her hazel eyes gazing out into the soccer field, Sakuno says in a breath, eyes following the ball being kicked from one player to the next, "I think Tomoya-kun is going to break up with me." rather softly, squarely, aloof. Even as she said this, she feels nothing. No anger, no grief. And, she only smiles when Tomoka leans further over the ledge to cast a disbelieving expression her way.

At this, Tomoka's face starts to crease, her brows knit together so comically that Sakuno starts to chuckle. "Why?" Came her friend's pitch-y tone, almost reprimanding her for such nonsense speak.

"I don't think he even knows it's our monthsary tomorrow." Sakuno adds. "Not that I can blame him."

"He's not going to break up with you." Tomoka tells her with certainty.

"Honestly," Sakuno slouches over the window, head dipping. "I don't mind if we broke up."

"What? Why all the sudden?" Tomo's well-cropped brows knit together; thinking, seeing something behind the façade of aloofness in her friend's expression.

"I don't even know why I agreed to go out with him in the first place." Her voice was distant, cold. "I think I was just guilty."

"What are you even saying? You like him." Tomoka tries to rationalize when it hits her. "Sakuno…" Her tone lowers, cautious. "Don't tell me;" She shakes her head, disapproving. "Not again… Tell me it's not Ryoma again."

Sakuno's eyes turned to her friend; and with a stubborn glare in her eyes, immediately looked away from the disbelieving gaze of her best friend.

It was like losing the winning lottery ticket. The instant she gets a boyfriend, Ryoma decides to return to Tokyo.

"Sakuno," Came Tomoka's careful tone. Her voice drifting with the wind. "We've been over this, again," Her eyes begged, pleaded for Sakuno to stop her romanticizing. "And again. And again."

The girl's lips start to quiver and her brows crease. "I know." She shook her head. "I just can't help it," Her voice breaks and her lips start to quiver, "It's Ryoma-kun." She turns to her friend, no longer knowing what to do, what to make of her, of him. "You of all people know - how I feel about him."

"If you can't take it-" Tomoka doesn't know what to say. Sakuno has always been this way about Ryoma. Always so in love. "Maybe, you should stop training with him."

Sakuno only sighs and wipes the stray tear of frustration, of heartbreak that ran down her pink cheek. "I don't think I can. If I do, I'm left with nothing."

"Then stop thinking about it." Came Tomoka's tall order. "You've become good friends, haven't you? If there was something there, anything -"

Sakuno nods. "It would've already happened." She finished for Tomo.

Tomoka sighs; a smile forming on her glossed lips, understanding. "It's pretty funny actually," She starts to laugh. "How things turned out."

Sakuno's lips quirk. And, with a bittersweet smile on her face, she nods along; herself in disbelief as she compares her life now to when she was a starry-eyed twelve-year-old.

"After all the years you spent pining for him," Tomoka chuckles, "You now spend every day with Ryoma."

With a lazy smile, Sakuno tells her friend, "He called me out on that." Tomoka's brow quirks. "That I should stop training with him - if I was doing it just because I had a crush on him."

"He didn't." Tomoka couldn't help but cry in astonishment. "You can't be saying the truth! He knew? How does he know?" Then, she starts laughing again, making Sakuno follow in chuckles.

Sakuno shakes her head, a smile lingering on her lips. "He's called me out on a lot of things actually." Then, her mood changes, her tone dips, more serious. "I have - I'm lacking in so many ways." She pauses, gaze rising. "That's how he makes me feel." And before Tomoka could chime in to defend her, she added, "Then he does the opposite and makes me feel like its okay that I'm who I am. That I can do anything if I kept at it."

At this, Tomoka laughs. "That sounds like him. A true winner, our Ryoma-sama."

"I want to win, Tomo." Sakuno suddenly proclaim to her friend, to herself. Then, with Tomoka's eyes wide in surprise, herself fully knowing that winning never mattered to Sakuno, could only fathom where the resolve came from. "Do you think I can make it?"

Tomoka's expression eases and she starts to smile. And, wholeheartedly believing it - she tells her best friend, "I do. One-hundred percent."

.

In the next morning, Ryoma, chipper; happier with the new dynamic he's reached with Sakuno, was actually looking forward to the day's practice session. He felt more comfortable around her; to teasing her more than he would coach actually.

That early hour, as he walks to the courts, with a disbelieving smirk on his lips at the thought of looking forward to seeing the girl with the long braids, he pushes the gates to the courts and, finds himself pause at the sight before him.

"Ah," Sakuno's gaze turns to the opened gate. Cheeks tinted and eyes glassed with water. A small smile on her pink lips. "Good morning, Ryoma-kun." She greets the newcomer.

"Hn." Ryoma nods at her and his gaze tries not to linger on the bouquet of flowers on her lap.

"I guess I should leave you two to train." Tomoya excuses himself to his reluctant girlfriend.

"Why don't you stay?" Sakuno offers, refusing to let go of his hand. "You came all this way, and so early in the morning."

At this, Tomoya only laughs, shaking his head. And Ryoma looks back at them from where he set down his gear. "That won't do." He tells the blushing girl. "You know how easily I distract you." He grinned cheekily, much to Sakuno's embarrassment.

Before Tomoya could dodge her, she had already slapped his hand playfully. "You are so annoying." She said it in a hushed voice, trying to keep herself from smiling. "See you later, then." She just looks up at him from her seat.

"Bye." Tomoya smirks at her, squeezing her hand before turning to nod at Ryoma. "See you."

When Tomoya left, when Sakuno placed her bouquet carefully beside her bag, as she tightened her shoelaces before setting off to start her warm ups, with a small smile, she tells Ryoma, like a girlfriend filling in another girlfriend with the juicy details, "It's our one-month anniversary." She couldn't help but grin. "He surprised me. He's—" Her heart fills with the thought, "He's so sweet, neh?" The wide smile on her face wouldn't ease.

Ryoma only looks back at her with an aloof expression on his face, not really knowing what she expected him to say. So, he said nothing and proceeded to the vending machine.

Sakuno just watches him walk away, not at all bothered by his coldness. And, with her face still flushed and her chest still giddy, she leans down, embraces the bouquet in her arms, and breathes in its sweet scent; thankful and over the moon happy, to have someone she was certain liked her back.*

Ryoma grimaced; pulling himself away from the bitter recollection. Eyes falling to the damp napkin to his side, he says, his gaze returning to the present, to the cafe where Kaidoh and Tomoka, the absentee employee, worked. "It's been odd finding everyone's changed."

The barista checked the liquid in the measuring cup before him. And, pouring its contents to fill a new order, kept himself from scowling. "A lot has happened these five years you've been away, Echizen." Kaidoh tells him soberly. "If you still haven't understood until now, there is no helping you." Idle cat-like eyes hovered around the café, his companion was now preoccupied with taking orders from an elderly couple who couldn't make out the French names on the menu.

The young man held his head at the bitter realization. He knew they all changed. He wasn't a fool. It's just that, maybe, he wasn't ready to accept it. Maybe, in some degree, he wanted to stay deluded. Maybe, he did return to Tokyo with a misapprehension that everything would be the same; that there was still a part of his life he could hold on to. But, as he watched his upperclassman work with such care and skill for a job that would somewhat cushion his university fees, he knew he couldn't have been more wrong.

His thoughts continue wander. And he recalls the last time he saw Momoshiro, when the latter visited his family in Tokyo a few days ago. The pair was loitering in front of Momo's house when Ryoma chooses to say, "You and Ryuzaki have become good friends." Lately, he finds himself thinking of her a time too often.

Momoshiro looks back at him in surprise, not knowing where the thought had come from. With a smile lacing his lips, the taller teen muses as if it's the first time he's thought of it. "I guess you're right." Then, Momo continues, growing reminiscent. "She helped manage the male's team for a while in junior high." A smile forming, "Then, we moved on to high school and there was one team. Although the genders were segregated, we continued to work together. Going in, I knew only a fool would fall for her. It's not obvious, but it was there."

"What was?" Ryoma looks up to his senior. There, he finds Momo's eyes unwavering, serious, and blatantly truthful.

"The way she would be when it was about you." He says. "She is nothing if not certain."

"Certain about what?"

The university student turns to him with a pitying smile, one that couldn't understand how ignorant he still was. "You." He jabs his friend's shoulder with a finger. Then, a thought occurs to Momo, one that makes him laugh.

Ryoma looks away with a disbelieving expression on his face, an aloof smirk on his lips. "How can you say that when she's dating someone else?"

"Do you like her?" He finally asks.

Ryoma's gaze lowers. And unsurely, he replies, "I don't know." Then, turning to Momoshiro, changes his answer, "I hope not." He says with a wry smile.

Momoshiro's lips spread into a small smile. "You should do it too." He added later as an afterthought.

The young man beside him doesn't understand.

Brows raised as he casually leaned back, Momoshiro clarifies. "Put yourself out there. Date."

Ryoma only grimaced. "Wouldn't everyone just love that."

"You have an incredible ego." Momoshiro rolls his eyes. To wit, Ryoma laughs.

Then, suddenly, he says after a while; after the sound of his laughter flitters away with the cold night's breeze, "I think," He says softly, "I do, though."

Nodding, Momoshiro sighs beside him, and their gazes meeting, smiles unsurely. "I think you do too." Then, looking up to the night sky, his voice drifts when he says, "There's no reason why you wouldn't."

A cup shattering, falling on the wooden floor tears Ryoma from his daydream. Gaze turning to the source of the noise, he found the elderly couple just laughing and apologizing at a rather obliging Kaidoh. And, finding it odd, Ryoma wonders when his severe-looking senior started to seem softer, more approachable. There he decided that Kaidoh senior was right. He had to wake up.

Everyone was moving on, whereas he was sitting in a restaurant halfway around the globe from where he's supposed to be.

Chapter Text

For the nth time that week, Sakuno came to practice late and tired from the evident lack of sleep. Her apologies would only get her so far. And, even though she didn't tell Ryoma, he knew what was keeping her from focusing. "You're late; again." He called her out the moment she pushed her way through the gates of the court. The sorry expression on her face just irritated him further.

"I'm sorry." Came her routine apology as she set down her bag beside him. "Last night just went past me. My schoolwork has piled up." She cast a small smile his way; her guilty eyes giving away her lie.

"Maybe," Ryoma starts, consciously trying to temper his tone as he rose from his seat. "If you kept to your schedule, instead of wasting your time going on dates; you'd manage to keep up with your regimen." He was quick to bite; earning a stunned, disbelieving look from Sakuno. "The final match is in two weeks." The young man continues to berate her; unable to stand the irk he felt towards her. Then, he picks up his gear, something he rarely brought, which surprises Sakuno. And he tells her rather spitefully before walking out on her, his brows furrowed, his piercing eyes in a glare, "Try to keep it in your pants till then."

Sakuno rolled her eyes at the message that popped on the locked screen of her phone. Ryoma sent her another message, reminding her to go home right after class; that they had an early day tomorrow. With a bitter frown, the girl thought; as if she didn't already know.

Try to keep it in your pants. She could still hear him tell her.

Her trainer was tireless. For days now, he's been hounding her to perform better; pushing her limits more than before. While the girl initially welcomed the shift of interest in her practice routine, she quickly found out how much of a stickler Ryoma could be. As much as she wanted to improve, she never considered putting a halt in everything else going on in her life just for the sake of winning.

It was a Sunday and Sakuno stops on her steps, peers out her window to the street below, and finds herself glaring. True enough, when she went down to the kitchen for breakfast, Ryoma was there, breaking bread with her grandmother.

"Ohaiyo, obaa-san." She smiled meekly, leaning to peck her grandma on the cheek. Then, her eyes drifted to Ryoma and, catching herself, gave him a cold look as she pulled out her chair.

"You didn't show up."

Stiffly, Sakuno replied. "I told you I wouldn't." Then, reached out for the natto. As she did, Ryoma didn't fail to cast the foul-smelling dish a disgusted look.

"I tried contacting you." His tone dipped. "You never answered."

The girl put down her bowl and narrowed her eyes dangerously at the young man before her.

"I didn't want to talk to you."

"I waited for an hour."

"I never-"

"You went on a date instead. Again." Sakuno's eyes widen; gaze darting to her grandmother just in the living room. "The old hag told me." Ryoma says in passing, absentmindedly playing with the toast on his plate.

"It's none of your business." She says with less conviction, not knowing where the guilt was coming from.

"I don't understand how you can be so lax in the final competition."

Sakuno's face paled at his insinuation.

"I am not lax." She cried defensively, in indignation. "I just happened to take a break, Ryoma-kun." She huffed, her cheeks flushed with red. "Just because you breathe tennis, it doesn't mean I have to as well."

Ryoma scowls at her.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asks her, his tone dangerous.

"You don't know how to have fun!" Sakuno cried. Then, her eyes dart away, hesitating. "You don't even have a girlfriend; let alone date."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"To have fun, Ryoma-kun, you have to socialize. This is why you're hopeless! You don't know how to speak with anyone about anything that doesn't have anything to do with tennis!"

Ryoma's eye twitched.

"I'm not hopeless." And, before Sakuno could speak, added. "I can find myself a girlfriend anytime."

"Then get one!"

"I don't want one!"

"Well, then, I don't want you to coach me anymore!"

"Why the hell not?!"

"Because it's suffocating being around you!" Ryoma blinked, taken aback. "Why don't you compete in tournaments yourself? What are you still doing in Japan in the first place? Why are you even helping me?" She throws air quotes at the word "helping." "Is it because you're just bored?! Well, I don't need your help – I'm not your pity case! Why don't you get a life and stop forcing yourself on mine?!"

Sakuno blinks, eyes watering, as her glare drops to the table. Her mouth is dry; her lips, chapped. Her words echo in her ears. She felt frozen, unable to face the young man who, amid everything, selflessly went out of his way to train her this past month. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't take back her words. And she knew, she knew she shouldn't.

Then, with her voice coarse, she is tired when she adds in a low rasp. "It's been tiring being around you." Then, she looks at him, almost begging. "I don't know how much more I can take."

The room was deathly silent that she only now realized how quickly her heart was beating, how loudly her pulse pumped through her veins. A part of her wanted Ryoma to lash out at her, to tell her how selfish she was being. But Ryoma didn't. She knew he wouldn't.

"I - " He spoke. Or, at least Sakuno thought he did. "All right."

She hears him stand. And she barely hears his voice as he thanks her for the meal, he may even have apologized for his behavior. She doesn't look up from that one spot on the table, the splotched one she marked accidentally when she was eleven.

She doesn't know when he left exactly. She only hoped that he was no longer there when she finally broke down in tears.

.

When the next morning came, they resume training as if nothing happened. Ryoma refused to acknowledge Sakuno's outburst. And Sakuno was too ashamed to bring it up. They continue their routine with detachment, with an invisible line neither could cross. Both were determined to finish the session without addressing what needed to be addressed. Although it was evident that there was truth in Sakuno's words, neither wanted to take the first step into something so sensitive that could ruin the friendship they've built.

"Oi!" A voice from outside the court catches the pair's attention. "If it isn't our favorite team!"

Both Ryoma, lying on his bench, and Sakuno, pausing in the court, holding onto a tennis ball, start to scowl at the comment dripping with sarcasm.

"Is this for real?" The girl from the restaurant laughs in disbelieve and pity. "Is he sleeping while she's training? Talk about sloppy training!" At this, her friends laugh, the huge high school student and another guy. "It's no wonder she's been lagging behind the competition. A miracle, even! That she's still in it!"

"Please just leave." Sakuno tells them both imploring and with ire. The vicious girl didn't mind her though and continued prattling on about her crappy tennis-playing skills. Channeling her out, knowing nothing good would come of reprimanding the group, Sakuno continues with her practice. Setting herself to the side, and dribbling the tennis ball; she makes her service. And, as she was about to take a step to catch its return; a howling laughter makes her miss her footing and trip. This only makes the laughter ring out more deafeningly amid the quiet of the early morning.

"This is really sad, neh? I wonder if this was the "rigorous training" he had to go through under his own father?" One laughed hysterically.

"Zero involvement, zero care."

"Explains why his son turned out to be such a dick, right?" They laughed. "Now, I kind of pity him too."

"Wasn't his father a pro in his day?"

One rolls their eyes. "That old fart was a joke. His father competed with mine in his prime and ate dirt." She laughed.

They stop, seeing Ryoma get up from where he sat. The group of bitter tennis players watched him with caution as he raised a hand from which a neon tennis ball came from.

And with a swift hit from his racket, the neon ball hit the dark green chain separating them, it's metal ringing frantically from the strength of the impact.

"Let's settle this." Spits Ryoma's cold voice. "Get fucking in here."

In the distance, Sakuno's voice breezed by in a worried hush, "Ryoma-kun," She cautioned, hesitant.

After a passing instant of shock, the larger teen was the first to break free from his initial surprise. And with a scoff and a shrug, he casually rests his racket over his broad shoulder and proceeded to enter Court 6, Sakuno and Ryoma's regular court. Soon, he was followed by his compatriots.

Watching them, an eerie quiet fills the vicinity, Sakuno's grip on her racket tightens. The sweat on temple trickles down the side of her face. She positions herself, leans forward, with a steady foot at the ready as the larger teen positioned himself at the opposite side of the court. In the back of her mind, she wondered whether she could take him. He was a mammoth of a man. No doubt, his hits would overpower her. But, then, she couldn't let them go. Their words echoed in her mind. She would beat them – these lousy, shameless lowlifes. She would show them their place. She would make them pay for what they said about her; what they said about Ryoma.

Suddenly though, Ryoma was beside her. And with a raise of his hand, gesturing to the benches, he said, "Sit."

Sakuno's brows furrow in confusion. Ryoma shouldn't be playing in a public space.

Before them, the larger teen's face creased in confusion and worry; realizing that Ryoma would be taking him on. No matter, he thought. That ass hasn't been playing for weeks. He was dead, as far as any sports journalist was concerned. Why should he matter to him now?

Then, even before he was given the signal, Ryoma positioned his racket and spun it. With the letter at the stem of the grip overturned, Ryoma took his racket back on hand, pulled a neon tennis ball from his pocket. And, with the large teen waiting in a breathless, unending second, makes his service; the infamous twist serve.

In less than a split second, the large teen, unable to anticipate where the service would end up as it sped into his court, suddenly found the neon ball in between his two feet, and, eyes widening in disbelief – in horror – saw the same ball bounce up towards his face. The next thing he knew, he was falling back on the floor – his nose throbbing from pain. And his chest, his face, burning in humiliation.

He was seething, eyes glaring at the floor, and, he freezes, seeing droplets of blood before him, red against the deep green shade of the court.

"15-love." He hears Ryoma call detachedly in disbelief. He looks up, unable to form a coherent thought. And he freezes at the cold expression on his opponent's face. "Get up." Ryoma was quick to tell him, already dribbling the tennis ball, preparing for another service.

The young Goliath doesn't know what came over him, he wasn't even thinking when he complied and got up on his feet. It was as if he was in a trance, hypnotized by Ryoma.

Again, the tennis prodigy, the sixteen-year-old grand slam champion, without precaution, without ministrations, simply and straightforwardly makes his service. And again, the larger teen is hit on the same spot on his face even after having tried to scramble away from the impact.

"What the fuck is this!" The girl from the benches cries in horror. "Get that shit to stop!" She orders a stunned Sakuno.

Never in her life had she seen Ryoma so altered, so out of it. Sakuno couldn't believe he was the same person.

"Get fucking up." Came Ryoma's icy voice. And again, and still, the large teen gets up on his feet. The racket he held was trembling in front of him.

"Why the hell are you following him, Mamura?!" The girl, livid, shrieked.

Still, Ryoma made his service. And once again, Mamura fell on his back, his nose, now bent. And his face, ridden with wet, jellied blood.

Anger was the only emotion that made sense to him. Ryoma thought as he dribbled the tennis ball.

"Enough!" The girl cried, rushing to her light-headed friend who was trying to stand up again.

Everything else confused him. Everything else made him feel so unsure, so lost.

On the opposite side of the court, Ryoma looked on with such a dead and cold expression that the girl just cried. "You're sick!"

Ryoma didn't seem to hear her. Instead, he thinks – finally – something made sense. The palpitations in his chest. The heat in his blood. His anger.

Throwing the ball to the air, he made his service. And, hitting his retreating opponent smack on his bloodied face, was brought back by the sudden pull behind him. He had fallen back with Sakuno, fallen so ungracefully onto the floor with her. Shock drowning him.

With that, the three scampered away, biting their lips in humiliation and fear. Their friendship faltered after that incident. The three avoided each other in the corridors of their school, confusing their classmates; they had been so close before. No one, none of them talked about their horrific incident with the Grand Slam champion. One blamed the others, you shouldn't have said those things. One blamed the others, you're a big guy, how the hell was he able to hit you like that. An awkwardness filled what once was friendship. A remorse, a horrid memory each of them wanted nothing more than to just forget.

When Ryoma turned around, he found himself looking back at horrified doe eyes. A guilt hit him, having forgotten Sakuno had been just behind, that she saw everything. He himself was at a lost as to what came over him. Ashamed of his actions, he cast his gaze down and turned away.

"Ryoma-" Sakuno's voice was soft and worried; guilty. She stopped, afraid to ask, to hear him affirm her dread. Was it because of me, of what I said? …Is it me you really hate? She thought in alarm, in a gut-wrenching remorse that made her freeze where she was; that made her extremities cold and sweaty; that made her jaw lock; unable to reach out to him, unable to ask.

"Gomen," Ryoma just says before turning away and taking off so abruptly. He ran from the courts, leaving Sakuno there, stunned and trembling in self-loathing, in confusion.

In the middle of the court, with her brows creased and her eyes filling with hot tears, she balls and starts to cry, no longer able to keep herself from breaking down.

.

Fuck.

Fuck. Ryoma's thoughts cry in alarm as he jogged away; eyes wide in disbelief. His chest fills with self-disgust. He felt so out of himself. His knees felt so weak, as if he could topple over any second. His sweat was cold. His heart rate accelerated.

Shit. What was wrong with him? His eyes filled with water, wide open in shock, in horror.

Fuck. Fuck.

He could still see Sakuno's wide doe eyes, looking back at him wide with horror.

Without realizing, Ryoma had crossed the street, surprising the other pedestrians. The crossing light was lit red. And from the other end of the street, a car was speeding up. With his gaze turning at the last moment, Ryoma's eyes widen at the sight of the car about to hit him.

Chapter Text

He was seated on the bench, hunched forward with his fingers intertwined over his knees; clad in a dark blazer over a v-neck tee shirt and cream ankle-cut chinos; sharply dressed and as handsome as ever. Before him was an empty expanse of the outdoor red clay court reserved for him, funded for by donors he's never bothered to get to know; the contract having been just closed by his agent from a room inside one of the halls leading out of the stadium.

The group decided to drop by just for the heck of it after having had dinner in a five-star restaurant. Most of them were old men; tennis enthusiasts with all the money in the world to spare. Among these men was his father, Nanjiroh, the dirty old man who's been managing his fame, his investments, his education and training, and his agent, bless his patient and forgiving soul, Marcus. They were the formidable duo who help build who he was today, his titles, his fame, - he, a mere fifteen year old, could only do so much without their network.

Ryoma's cat-like eyes scanned the expanse dimly lit by back-up lamps scattered around the arena, in disbelief, in awe.

Odd, he thought it – the silence.

For the longest time, he's never had a second to himself. There would always be someone's voice next to his ear or crowds crying his name - never silence. Even in his lonesome, he'd fall asleep hearing the waves of cheers from the day's tournament. He'd hear the rhythmic pok of the tennis ball. He'd hear his heaving breath, his raging pulse, his dripping sweat.

Now, in this vast enclosure, he was alone. It was a novel experience for an athlete of his caliber - to be in a place where he once stood in the center of a few years ago, as the thirteen-year-old who took the tennis world by storm, basking in the tumultuous cheers and applause of over fourteen-thousand delirious spectators – seeing the stadium dark, still and seemingly infinite; as if a foreboding of what was yet to come.

"You see it, seishounen?" His father's haughty voice comes entering from the doors behind with a laugh. A smirk forms on Ryoma's face as his gaze turns to his old man, eyes shining in challenge. "The day you'll finally beat me."

Everything was pitch black; eyes shut tight; brows furrowed – Ryoma was frozen, utterly still, waiting for an impact that never came. Ears ringing from the blaring, deafening horn of the car, the lightheaded, stricken young man opens his eyes and finds his hands on the hood of the vehicle. He couldn't believe it. The SUV had broken in an abrupt halt right in front of him. Raising his hands, shaking, trembling, he examines himself in disbelief – he was unscathed.

Inside the vehicle, the elderly man behind the wheel wore the same pale face. Then, a second of stunned disbelief passing, he quickly unlocked his seat belt and stepped out in a panic. His baggy eyes and wrinkled forehead creased in worry. "Are you all right?" The bespectacled man cried, eyes scrutinizing every inch of Ryoma; fearing he'd find a scratch, a bruise, a wound.

Still out of it, Ryoma tears his stunned eyes from his hands and faces the pedestrians casting confused looks over them. In front of him stands the driver whose expression was laced with concern. With a hoarse voice, soft, low, and out of breath, the unnerved young man shakes his head. "Sorry, oji-san." He apologizes.

Unable to take the weight of the shocked, nosy gazes of the bystanders, he runs away.

He runs without thought, without noticing the distance, without destination - that, in no time, his knees buckle and he stumbles.

He is sprawled on a dirt road he doesn't remember entering. He is burdened by a weight far too heavy for him to get up that he only manages to lift himself high enough to see where he's brought himself. And, he realizes in horror where his feet had led him.

His eyes were fearful, his mouth washed with bitter guilt, with remorse. Before him stood familiar steps leading to a shrine, to a place he's long avoided; his sole, true reason for returning to Tokyo.

The uneasiness in his gut erupts that he starts falling into a coughing fit, short of vomiting. His eyes sting with unshed tears. And cold sweat starts to run down his back.

With his spirit torn in half, Ryoma lifelessly staggers back home with unshed tears in his eyes. He heads straight to the living room, picking up a comforter from the pile of newly pressed clothes by the hallway, and lies on the cold floor; shaking, trembling as he wrapped himself in the warmth of his blanket.

Some time passed when Ryoma, groggy and feverish, is awoken by a gentle voice, by a warm hand touching his sweaty forehead. His lips were dry and his mouth, parched. Still, he manages to utter to the silhouette, to the figure hovering around him - "Don't, don't tell kaa-san."

.

It was sunset when Ryoma wakes up to an unfamiliar room, lightheaded and sore. The air was clear and a breeze blew in from an opened window, making the curtains dance gracefully with it. It was peaceful, quiet. And for a moment, the young man pauses and takes a full breath; a calmness filling him.

When he sits up, he surveys the room and finds a pitcher of water by his bedside. He takes a drink then get out of bed, brushing his grimy hair to the side as he walked to the closed door of the room. Carefully, he peers out and sees an unlit hallway; one vaguely familiar to him. And when he steps out, he realizes he was in the home of his former tennis coach.

His brows crease, loosely remembering his tennis coach back with him in his own home, urging him to come to her house so he can be looked after. He was so weak then, and could barely stand even with the help of Sumire. Shaking his head, his eyes dart around to check if the coast was clear. And as quiet as a cat, he makes his way out to the front door, not wanting to catch anyone's attention, not wanting to disturb the household. But, even before he could cross the living room, a voice stops him.

"You're awake." Sumire's tone was deep and hoarse. And her gaze was gentle. The old woman was seated in the darkness, nursing a cup of hot tea. The orange hue of the sunset grazed the outlines of the room, barely illuminating the immediate vicinity. "I cooked you some soup." She added eventually.

Ryoma sighed, shifting his weight back to the heel of his foot; disappointed at being caught before he had a chance to flee. "I'm not hungry." He softly said, not moving from where he stood in the shadows.

Then, the old woman gestured for him to join her where she sat. "Are you feeling better?"

Ryoma couldn't meet her gaze. "It's nothing."

At this, Sumire starts to chuckle, thinking exactly that was how the young man would respond. "Just because you're on a break, doesn't mean you shouldn't take care of yourself, kid."

"Hn." Ryoma nods, making a motion that he was about to stand and leave.

Then, his former coach suddenly tells him, "Your mother's asking when you'll come home."

Immediately, the Ryoma visibly froze. Then, his brows crease, defensive.

Cocking a disbelieving brow, he said in a sour tone. "You called her?" Then, he forced a cocky, aloof smirk, diverting the conversation with a laugh. "Did she want me to bring home some delicacy?" He said by way of a dry joke. Poor as it was, he was not blind to the tension in the room.

Ending her façade, dropping the forced smile on her lips, Sumire's tone was suddenly low and serious. "Let's cut the bullshit, boy."

Ryoma leans away, a sour taste filling his mouth. "Hn." He grunts lamely.

"What's happening to you, Ryoma?" Not knowing where to look, not at Sumire's vexed expression, not at the unlit kitchen behind them, not at the pictures of Sakuno at the corner – no, he turned to his hands still over the table. Seeing the familiar cover, he wondered how often he's been at the Ryuzaki residence. A visit more often than necessary, he decided. "Why haven't you returned home yet?" Sumire's voice was reprimanding and strong but Ryoma knew she was holding back, that she was being careful with him. Honestly, it irked him that she was being cautious around him, maybe, more so than feigning cheer.

Ryoma looked up at the old woman with the frown on her face and shook his head. "What is it you're really asking?" The young man bites.

The feisty old woman had to keep herself from scolding him for his blatant display of disrespect. Letting out a sigh, she said, "It never crossed my mind. But with every passing week, the longer you stayed, the clearer it became." Ryoma sat in trepidation, eyes darting to his old coach. His gaze trembled. His heart began to race; fearing she would say what he thinks she already is certain of. "Your mother told me you had business in town. But - you're back because of him, aren't you?"

Defensive, Ryoma almost stood on his seat, feeling cornered; cheeks flushed in anger, embarrassment. "How would you know—"

"He may have been a headache, a nutter; but, he's become one of my closest friends." Ryoma could hear his breath, anxiety kicking in; guilty at being caught. "If you came here to visit him, why haven't you? You can't keep stalling until the last minute. You can't just stay here and act like nothing's happened."

"I can't." He snaps.

Sumire's brows creased as the young man looked away heatedly, angry. His eyes were cast down, glaring. "Can't what?"

"I can't visit him. I'm—" He hesitated. "It's not enough. I mean, look at me."

The old woman almost laughed, understanding. "You're a silly boy." Sumire said with a sour taste in her mouth. "You won the Grand Slam. How much prouder do you need him to be?"

"You think it would help, but it doesn't." He said in exasperation, no longer looking at the old woman cupping her cold, half-drunk mug of coffee. "It's still empty. I still feel empty. That no matter what I do, no matter what I achieve, it will never reach him. None of it will ever be good enough."

"So, your solution is to keep yourself cooped up in your old home?" Ryoma looked up to scowl at her. "You have to wake up, Ryoma. The only way to get past this is to get it done. Don't just stand still boy. It's been weeks—"

"I'm here training Sakuno." Sumire's blood boiled. "I'm not floating, if that's your problem-!"

"BULL. SHIT!" Hands were slammed on the table. "–Sakuno's going to university. Tomoka's found work. Everyone in your year has something lined up. And you can't even decide when you're going home? Half of your endorsements are gone, your recruiters have dwindled in number, the press has even forgotten your name—"

Ryoma rose from his seat, his face red in anger. "I don't fucking care about the press!"

"—People think you've quit tennis, Ryoma! You! You of all people!" With no end in sight, Sumire continued to yell. "And don't you talk to me like that, boy! Don't lose everything you've worked for your whole life in less than a year!" Feeling her blood pressure rise, the old woman held back and took her seat. With a final look— the closest to empathy she's ever shown him, Sumire said. "You don't even train anymore."

"I don't need this!" Ryoma cries, angrily turning to the door when Sumire suddenly yells after him,

"You walk out that door and you really will be disappointing him!" Her voice hitches. Her face, red with fury. "If you're wondering what's left of him – all you need to do is look at the mirror!"

The room was deathly silent after. A pregnant pause seemed to pass, not a word uttered, not a gaze met.

"I don't know what you want from me." Ryoma suddenly speaks. His voice was soft, remorseful, biting. "I don't know what everyone fucking wants from me."

"Boy," The old woman said in a final plea, lips quirking, face softening. "I don't need anything from you. It's you who needs to do something for yourself."

Ryoma looked back at her, brows knit, eyes trembling in conflict; lost. Still, he nods in hallow promise, not himself knowing what she meant nor what it entailed.

His eyes were dark and deep. He had long lost him - his father. And worse, he had long lost himself, the spirited young man he'd been, and the driven young man he'd strove to be. He couldn't place the face that would stare back at him in the mirror. He had become so altered these past years, and without notice.

When he leaves, when the door behind him closes with a click, Ryoma makes it a point to turn to the side. There, he sees Sakuno step out from where she was eavesdropping, eyes stung with unshed tears, a heavy weight, tight against her chest.

"I'm guessing you got an earful." Ryoma tells her with a dry tone. When she doesn't speak, he adds, "It's ridiculous, isn't it?" He said, his voice still cool, distant, apathetic - when he shouldn't be. "That even after two years, it seems I haven't moved on."

"It wasn't supposed to mean anything." Ryoma turned to leave. "It was an accident. Someone dies every second."

Unable to take anymore, Sakuno caught him in her arms. Her embrace was tight, warm, and sorry. She was trembling, and she could no longer hold back her tears. "Stop it." She begged him. She wanted him to stop. She wanted him to stop lying to himself.

"Sakuno-" Ryoma croaked, his voice hitching in his throat.

"Ryoma-kun-" She tells him - she tries to, "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She whispers to his back, her embrace, her hold, tightening.

Ryoma couldn't see the guilt in her eyes, the remorse dripping in her words. He couldn't face her. She couldn't face him. After all that's happened between them, after all she's said. Not now. Not like this.

There was a suffocating tightness in his chest, a heavy weight Ryoma couldn't understand. As his eyes started to fill with tears, troublesome tears he couldn't just blink away; there came this warmth, this fullness, this peace as he raised his hand, held on to Sakuno's cold hands, and melted into her embrace.

As the girl sobbed, silent hot tears streamed down his cheeks.

The girl straightened up and gently led Ryoma to turn to her. Cat-like eyes widened at the sight of her, her lips were moist, her cheeks red and damp, her eyes washed with sorrow.

The proximity between them was unfamiliar and new. It made him awkward. It made him conscious, cautious.

The trust, the honesty in the passing moment - he doesn't know what to expect that he barely hears her soft voice utter against the wind, "I - I should have known."

Ryoma could hardly make out her expression even though she was merely a foot away. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. He didn't know what he should do.

Then, she raises her hand and lightly cups his cheek. In an instant, he loses all train of thought. His breath catches in his throat. And his mouth dries.

She was so close, he felt as though he was being pulled in. Lightheaded, he is drawn in, the gap between them disappearing. The heat from her lips touching his. Then, when his eyes starts to shut, when the sensation in his chest was close to erupting, she speaks in a breath; the tenderness of her gaze, the sincerity behind her trembling smile. In her eyes, he could see his reflection, bare, his whole being, exposed.

In her eyes, there was only him.

And it scared him, how sincere, how genuine she was.

I love you. He could almost hear her say. Before that night, he never thought those words could so easily, so readily be said. His mind is in a state of delirium that – he doesn't realize – instead of Sakuno, this is how he felt about her; that it was he who was afraid of how raw it was; of how he could love her so much without caveat; with little to no reason.

And the thought haunts him; how willingly he had fallen, how blindly, how fully.

Later, when Ryoma walks downhill and turns to look back over his shoulder, under the light of the lamp post, he finds Sakuno seeing him off. There was a small smile in her face; a glint of a hopeful prayer in her eyes.

She was always watching over him, waiting for him - when she shouldn't. She didn't have to. The worry etched on her face, the sincerity in her gaze, he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve her.

.

The next morning, as was their routine, they see each other in the courts. And after their session, with a steady expression on her face, with a firmness in her voice, Sakuno tells Ryoma with a small smile on her lips, "I want you to stop coaching me."

At first, Ryoma is taken back, but nods along; understanding why.

Now, Sakuno hoped – her trembling doe-eyes, firm and unwavering as she gazed back into Ryoma's conflicted ones – he's lost one more excuse to hide behind.

As the handsome young man stood, stunned, he wondered when she's grown so resolute; how was it that someone so small could hold so much strength behind a simple look.

"All right." Ryoma finally spoke in a passing breath.

And, Sakuno repeats, lips quirking into a small, hopeful smile. "All right."

Chapter Text

It was towards the end of her first year of high school when he finally called her out on it; frustrated by her foolishness, by her blind affection, by her brash rejection. The whole year, he's been repeatedly asking her out; confessing how difficult it's been since he realized he's fallen in love with her – with the girl universally known to be in love with Ryoma Echizen, that tennis star living half-way across the globe, their old schoolmate who has never set foot in Japan for over three years. By telling her she was being stupid for devoting all her time and affection to someone who barely knew she existed, who had merely touched a point in the timeline of her life, he knew he was branding himself to be the same – foolish, idiotic, utterly and blatantly stupid – for falling for her; for trying to make her fall for him.

He told her that she didn't know Ryoma; that her affections were based on a dreamt fantasy; that she was clueless as to what falling in love really meant.

To wit, she would reply with a choke in her shaky voice, stricken by the anger in his disposition – that he was wrong. She fell in love with Ryoma from the moment she met him, or that even if she didn't, she surely did eventually – fully and without reservation. The strength of his character, his aspirations, she admired all of him. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about him, day and night, from dawn till dusk. Ryoma had invaded whatever space she had left in her mind; and he unwittingly stole the void in her chest, filled it with nothing but thoughts, dreams of him. She couldn't help the cheer in her voice, the smile on her face, whenever someone would talk about him. If those weren't manifestations of her being in love with the tennis prodigy, then call her a fool, she challenged him amid glassy eyes, amid reddened cheeks.

Momo, although being the kind soul he is, vigorously shook his head and told her what falling in love really meant. It was being with someone day in and day out, not tiring from hearing her voice, not tiring from constantly being by her side – and eventually finding out that he liked it. It was looking forward to seeing her the next day even if she was still by his side at that very moment. It was to talking with her about absolutely anything – even of her unrequited feelings for a certain professional athlete. And it was realizing one day that something in him had changed; that, having spent time with her, that after having gotten to know her, he's made a habit of identifying her out of the crowd. It was confessing, laying himself bare, to a woman he knew to be in love with someone else.*

That was what falling in love meant, he said. "Falling in love meant standing in front of you, calling you out of your fantasies, and pleading to you – that even for just a second, you'll come to notice the guy who's in front of you."

At that point, Sakuno had gotten so confused, so pressured by the hurt expression in Momo's gaze, that she started crying. "Why— why are you even telling me this, senpai?"

"Because," He takes a breath. "You'll keep brushing off everyone coming your way until you realize this. It won't just be me, Sakuno-chan." Then, a self-pitying smile forms on his face. "It won't just be me who'll make the mistake of falling for you."

When Sakuno is unable to speak, he added soberly, with a chastising smirk. "The admiration you have for him is not the same as falling in love. It's something – but it isn't love."

After that incident, the young brunette couldn't face Momo. And before long, a different representative from the girl's tennis team was appointed to collaborate with the boy's team.

A few days later, they would receive the news of Nanjiroh Echizen's accident and subsequent death. Ryoma would come home for his father's funeral. And throughout this period of mourning, Sakuno comes to realize – as she watches the reserved, distant Ryoma from afar – that, maybe, Momo was right. Maybe, she wasn't in love with Ryoma; at least, not in the way she thought she was. That young man a few feet away from her was not the boy she once knew. He seemed far altered, much taller, more distant than the young man she'd imagine he'd be.

As time passed, in the change of school year, a new balance is struck and normalcy returns between her and Momo. Momo makes peace with his unrequited love. And Sakuno starts shedding off her lovesickness.

In the middle of her second year in high school, Sakuno went up to Momoshiro to apologize, to tell him that he was right all along; that she knew nothing about Ryoma other than that related to tennis; that, if being in love entailed knowing someone to a point, then, she was not in love with the boy wonder. Momoshiro would later tell her he is moving away to Nagoya for university. And, it was a few weeks before his high school graduation that he urges her to compete in the qualifying rounds of the Nara Women's Tournament.

She could still feel the hurt in his voice, could see it in his eyes – that even as he was smiling, enthusiastically telling her to put to test her improvement over the years, he was repressing what he was truly feeling. "Ne, senpai," She suddenly starts. And Momo quiets. "Didn't you get into Keio (a university in Tokyo)?" Then, she hesitates at his stillness. "Why are you going to university in Nagoya?"

Momoshiro only answers with a smile, an expression that told her all she needed to know.

A few weeks later, over the interval/school break bridging towards her last year in high school, she sends her application to the tournament, competes in the eliminations, and qualified for the finals. It was at the start of her third year, one day when she was returning home from afternoon practice, that Sakuno pushed open the door to her home and found the newly-branded sixteen-year-old Grand Slam title holder, Ryoma Echizen, sprawled on her living room couch. The handsome young man with the dashing smirk, with the boyish charm, raised a hand lazily in greeting while her grandmother laughed at the pale, confused expression on her face.

"Look what the cat dragged in." Her grandmother shakes her head, a grin on her face. Sakuno was at a loss of breath; tan from having been burned by the rays of the afternoon sun. "What do you say about Sakuno qualifying for the Nara Tournament, eh, kid?" Sumire turns with a proud smirk at an amused Ryoma, much to a befuddled Sakuno.

The professional athlete only smirks.

"Looking for a coach?"

Sakuno sat by herself, unable to keep from looking in envy over at the girls on the next bench. It would've been fun had she entered into the competition with a friend. Or, if she had the guts to make one.

A friend, she supposed, would make eating lunch more tolerable in this tense, competitive environment.

It was the fifth day into the boot camp of the Nara Tournament. Two weeks of intensive training, followed by a weekend of eliminations. The goal of the competition was to hone women with the talent to play, to generate support for the women's league and the sport itself through a televised competition.

There were aspirants who came in all over Japan to Tokyo just for the opportunity to qualify.

From the first day, the tension was palpable in the camp. It was terrifying, approaching strangers who wanted nothing more but for you to quit to increase their chances of placing in the finals. (Only the finals would be televised.) So, Sakuno would sit in her lonesome whenever waiting for her match, whenever meals were served, all of the time really.

The only other girl she managed to befriend quit just the other say, saying she wasn't cut out for the competition, that she still had another year to try out. Honestly, it took everything in Sakuno not to follow after her. Unlike the other girl, however, Sakuno was a third year student. She had only this one shot.

Her grandmother had always told her, she'd lose nothing from trying. So, she(Sakuno) was pretty much coerced by the excited cries of Sumire the day she confessed that she submitted an application to the boot camp.

A voice suddenly calls out to her from the court, gesturing for her to come on in for her match.

Unlike the other girls, Sakuno decided she would just see how far she'd make it. She would do her best to learn from her trainers and from her fellow trainees. She would be thankful for the opportunity. Then, she would leave with the satisfaction from knowing that she had at least tried.

However, Sakuno found herself winning and winning again.

She looked up at her opponent, her eyes shinning so brightly under the sun. It was exhilarating, playing tennis.

"That was a good match again today, Ryuzaki-san." Her opponent conceded, holding out her hand for a shake after their match.

With an apologetic smile, Sakuno took her hand and shook her head, "You were incredible, Enui-san."

Being alone, Sakuno decided, wasn't so bad as long as she enjoyed what she was doing.

Passing nearly a month later, Sakuno groggily propped herself up with her elbows, and forced herself off her bed. Outside her bedroom window, she could see the raining pitter-pattering just outside. The downpour was light but continuous.

With a sigh, Sakuno dropped back into bed and under her covers.

It was pass noon when Sakuno steps out the washroom, having just had a shower. Turning her gaze out the window, she sees the day as clear as any other. Drying her long auburn hair with her towel as she walked downstairs, she overhears her grandmother speaking on the phone.

"You don't need to worry." She overhears her grandmother say; her tone, impatient. "He's no longer a child. He has to make the decision himself." Her grandmother paused, seemingly cut off by the person on the other end of the line. "Yes, yes." Sumire nodded in irritation. She glares to her side, to no one in particular, and accidentally meets Sakuno's nosy eyes. "You can count on me." She says, ending the call.

"Who was that on the phone, obaa-san?" Sakuno asks, trying to sound ignorant. Her grandmother only sends her a wary expression, purposely holding her tongue.

"Didn't you go train today?" Sumire chooses to say instead.

"Ah." Sakuno's brows raise and nods stiffly, hesitantly; remembering Ryoma, their conversation, their cut ties. "I'm taking a day off."

.

A few streets over, under the shade of a tree, a young man stands among towering shrines. His gaze is heavenward as he looks for a tomb unfamiliar to him, having only once seen it, on the day of his father's funeral.

Climbing up endless steps to the shrine of one Nanjiroh Echizen, Ryoma suddenly freezes where he stood. His brows knot, his eyes wide in disbelief at the sight before him, of the familiar figure standing before his father's grave.

From his father's tombstone, the figure slowly turns with his eyes cast down right at him, absent the surprise; more stolid, cool, nonchalant.

After all these years, he looked far too altered, to tan, to tall, to lean. For Ryoma to immediately have placed him was a feat.

"What took so long," The voice smirks. "Chibisuke."

Chapter Text

The last time he saw his brother was three years ago, when he was a little over thirteen years of age. When he woke up early in the morning, even before the sun had risen, to the sound of light shuffling feet and the sight of his brother's figure rummaging through his (Ryoma's) drawers. "Aniki...?" He called out grogily.

"Shh," Ryoga turned to shush him.

Annoyed, Ryoma grumbled into his pillow and lifted a hand to point to his desk. "There's money in the box." He groaned louder when Ryoga's hand instantly came in to ruffle his hair.

"Good job, chibisuke." He chuckled.

Later that morning, after he's fixed himself for training, when he walks by Ryoga's room for the nth time, he notices that nearly everything his brother owned was gone. Ryoma went to eat breakfast that morning not really understanding the significance of his discovery. He went to the courts. Then to school. Then back home, to find his mother crying, to find his father out at the back, for once in his life - quiet.

They had gotten into an intense argument a couple of nights before. Ryoga had threatened to leave then. But the following day, it was as if nothing had happened. Suddenly, before the break of dawn three days later, his brother would be gone. Off to god knows where in search of a life other than theirs.

He had been a troubled kid, his aunt would tell thm. His aunt who won custody over Ryoga, who fought to keep him, the young boy he had been. Running off all over the State, picking fights, picking up girls. Why couldn't he be like Ryoma, she would say. Ryoma who was the perfect kid, charming, talented, smart, obedient.

Ryoga had run away from home. And when his parents gave him one, he ran away from that too.

But now, the same man, nineteen, no, twenty years of age, was before him, standing as tall as he ever did. His shoulders square and his jaw sharp.

Otoo-san, Ryoma wondered, seeing his father's face before him, in the man his brother had become, "Where have you been?"

They have been standing side by side, silent, motionless, that Ryoma steals a curious glance at his brother. The older young man's gaze never strayed from the tombstone in front of them. There were so many questions he wanted to ask him; what was he doing back in Tokyo? What has he been up to? What – Why was he here?

Still, it is Ryoga who suddenly asks, "Were you there?" His eyes meeting Ryoma's surprised ones. "When it happened."

At this, Ryoma stiffens, not knowing what to tell him.

"I was halfway across the globe when I heard about the accident. The next thing I knew, everyone was flying back to Tokyo for the funeral." Then, Ryoga pauses, remembering, "You had just placed in the French Open."

Ryoma's gaze drops, keeping silent.

"It still doesn't feel real to me – that the old man's gone." Ryoga smirks, but his gaze is low and his eyes are clouded. "It's like he's still out there somewhere, snickering, making fun of everyone he meets." Then, he pauses. "But, he isn't, is he? He's been gone for a while now."

"Hn." The boy only manages to grunt. Unable to keep his throat from locking.

"I didn't hate him, you know." Ryoga suddenly says. "Contrary to what everyone says," He turns to meet Ryoma's confused gaze. "I didn't leave because of him."

Ryoma turned back to their father. "I know." He replies softly. An uneasy feeling creeping on him. "I would've done the same thing." He doesn't know if he should face his brother, he doesn't know if he had the guts. "I would've left too."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." Ryoga tells him, his voice lower.

"Don't be." Ryoma's voice was cold; aloof; distant. A wall he's managed to build to protect himself. "It doesn't matter. None of it does."

At this, Ryoga is taken aback. He turns to meet his brother's stoic gaze and is chilled by the numb expression on his face. How long, he wondered, has Ryoma been this way? "You brought him your medallion?"

Ryoma's lips curve to a bitter smirk as he looks down at the box case in his hand. "I did. To show him I did it," His voice betrays him. "Beat him."

Ryoga looks down.

"But I never really did." Ryoma's voice quivers amid his smirk. "And I never will." He takes a second to sigh, to compose himself. "All my life, I've gone along with him as a team, everything I did, everything I won, he was there by my side; ready to lead me to the next big thing." His lips tremble as he faces his brother, his expression, pleading. "What do I do know, aniki? Where do I go from here?"

"I can't seem to do anything without disappointing anyone." He is reminded of Momoshiro's shocked expression, when he said he'd be applying to uni; to Sakuno's; to Sumire's; to the men in business suits promising the world to him. "How do you do it - know what you want to do?"

Before he could say anymore, Ryoga swung an arm over Ryoma's head and pulled him into an awkward side embrace in a measly attempt to calm the latter.

"He made it seem like we were all right. But he lied to us." Ryoma's throat locked. "He coddled us." He started to shake. "Made us feel like he'd be there for us, every step of the way."

"Shh," His brother hushed him. By his side, his brother continued to tremble. Ryoga did his best to hide his brother's tears. As men, they've long made a vow never to shed a tear, never to be vulnerable lest the world think they are. "I'm here now."

The young prodigy leans away, wiping his tears, thinking to himself that he's caught Sakuno's tendency to cry, when his brother suddenly tells him, "You asked me what I was doing back?" Ryoma's surprised expression was answer enough. "I'm here to give you an out."

"I don't—" Ryoga cuts him off.

"Come with me."

"What?"

Ryoga straightens and wears his leather jacket. "See the world with me. You'll be amazed with the talent stowed away from the camera."

For the first time, in a long long time, Ryoma feels a pull on his chest, a leap, a jolt.

"What?" Ryoma doesn't understand.

"A couple of friends and I are starting a campaign, touring countries, teaching tennis. You should join us." His brother smirks, seeing the light in Ryoma's eyes. "Find yourself," He gestures to the mess that was Ryoma. "While we're touring."

"I know what they did, what they've been doing." Ryoga tells him simply, quietly, sympathetically. "Cutting myself from the family was the best decision I've made."

Ryoma doesn't know what to say. But, he knew his brother was right. It seemed like it only happened yesterday, how they kept him from leaving the placement match, how they stole his father's last moments from him by keeping him in the dark. His father could only do so much, keeping them away from the main household; but the more successful he became in his career, the more they latched on.

It was clear as day, the bitterness he felt; how much of a fool he felt he was, standing in front of the matriarch of their family as she told him why they didn't pull him out of his matches to tell him his father got into an accident – how betrayed he felt, how guilty, how drained.

Then, at the corner of his blurry vision, shocked and brimming with unshed tears, confused, angry, broken – he sees his mother and the same loss in her eyes. It would only be the two of them now.

"I can't leave kaa-san." He answers, decided. "I can't just leave."

At this, Ryoga only smirks, turning to Ryoma with a knowing expression. "Why do you think it took me this long to get here? If I know anything about our branch of the family, it's that every single one of us are flight risks." Ryoga chuckles. "Me with my team, dad with tennis, and –"

"Mom with dad." Then, Ryoma ends up laughing, finding it ridiculous, how much it all made sense.

It was then that Ryoga raises his hand, offering an open palm to his brother.

The tennis grand slam champion, the sixteen-year-old, the boy, standing still, takes a step forward and reaches out. "Then, I'll go." He takes his brother's hand, his grip, firm, resolute. And, with a curve, a small smirk on his lips, he tells his brother, "I'll go with you, aniki."

.

"So, this is where you kids have been training?" Says an amused voice from behind. In a graceful, fluid motion, Sakuno catches the neon tennis ball shooting back to her with her racket. Sweat dripping down the side of her heart-shaped face, she turns and looks over her shoulder, surprised doe-eyes widening.

"Obaa-san." She utters under her breath. Sakuno wipes the sweat on her face with her wrist band, averting her gaze from the consoling expression on her grandmother's face; wondering how it was that her grandmother could so easily read her. "What are you doing here?" She raises her eyes to meet Sumire's, forcing a smile.

"I didn't notice you left." Sumire tells her with a small smile.

Sakuno looks around, "The rain stopped."

"You're training alone now?" Her grandmother enters her court.

"Hm." Sakuno nods, approaching her parental. And, before she reaches her grandmother, her shoulders start to tremble, breaking into a light sob.

The old woman's expression softens. And, pausing, she tells her young ward, "How about a game with me?"

Sakuno only nods and continues to cry in her grandmother's arms. And Sumire is at a loss as to what to do.

"I just wanted –" Sakuno sobs, her voice muffled against her grandmother's embrace, "I just wanted to mean something to him – even if just a little. I want to be someone he'd want to see, a year from now, two years from now." She continues to cry. "And now," Her voice hitches. "He's leaving again."

Sumire's brows knot. "You don't know that." She consoles the child.

At this, Sakuno shakes her head fervently. "I know it, obaa-san." She sobs. "I know him."

Not knowing what to do, Sumire just stands there, trying to console Sakuno. And, unconsciously, she counts the number of times Ryoma has made her granddaughter cry; wondering if any of the child's tears were worth it.

Close to a week passes without any exchange between Ryoma and Sakuno. The life Ryoma left came back in full swing, fast-paced, no breaks, travelling all around Tokyo, then everywhere else in Japan, meeting with everyone, press conferences here and there. In less than a week, it didn't seem as if he went AWOL for a month. And Sakuno, she keeps to her routine, trying not to think of the gaping hole her trainer had left behind; trying to return to the status quo she achieved before Ryoma returned to her life.

Chapter Text

When she prepares for the day, packing her gear along with her school things, her long wavy auburn hair damp over her shoulders, Sakuno wonders, as she zipped her bag close, as her eyes turned to the dark morning sky outside her bedroom window, when it started becoming mundane – waking to the dead of morning, rallying against a cold, stationary wall. She was certain, it never started out this way – her playing tennis. Now, while she felt no more trepidation nor anxiety, neither was there excitement nor anticipation. It all felt routine, dreary. And, she knew, she realized as she cried for the nth time over that coy, snarky classmate of hers, that boyishly handsome tennis prodigy, it was because of him again, because of Ryoma.

With a tired expression on her face, she slipped her bag over her shoulder and walked out into the open street, off to the tennis courts to practice for her last match, promising herself that she's done; that she's cried all the tears she would for the young man who felt so far differently from her.

The air was cold, Sakuno thought as she sniffled; shaking her head, thinking she should've dried her hair before leaving home. Sighing, she pushed open the metal gate to her usual court. And, when she turns to the benches, she freezes where she stood, brows rising, eyes widening in disbelief. The young man in front of her stands almost instantly, his eyes registering the same shock, making Sakuno's brows knit in confusion, finding it odd he should be surprised to see her, in her usual court, at the time he knew she trained.

"It's been a while." He speaks in greeting, a lazy smirk lingering on his lips.

"Ah," Sakuno nods, blindsided. Then, eyes darting away, not knowing where to look, whether to meet his gaze, she says as her grip on her bag tightened, "I thought you were in Osaka." She needed time to get used to it – him suddenly appearing, then disappearing.

"I got back last night." He replies so coolly, so aloofly that Sakuno is unable to comprehend how he doesn't see it – how she was losing her mind, how she has been crying her heart over him. "Take one." He suddenly tells her, holding out two hot cans of tea.

"Ah," Sakuno mouths, surprised by the offer. "You didn't have to." She forces a weak smile.

"I know." The young man nods, cracking the lid of his drink open and taking a sip.

An empty silence ensues which unnerves Sakuno. She stood in front of him, motionless, awkward, waiting for him to speak, to give her an explanation as to why he was here – when he ought not to be, when he has chosen to leave. But Ryoma didn't. He simply stood in front of her, brows knitting for a second.

Unable to bear it, Sakuno tells him, her voice soft, in a stutter, "You— you don't have to check up on me." She starts to play with the drink in her hand. "I'm all right on my own."

Ryoma shakes his head, himself feeling foolish for walking all the way out to her when he had a late night and an early call later that morning.

"Then," Sakuno starts, trying to make sense of the young man's silence, "Did you need anything?" The look Ryoma sends her way makes her uneasy. A dread starts to fill her gut.

"You know I'm having a match tomorrow."

"Hai." Sakuno nods.

"I just wanted you to know," He pauses, "I'll be leaving for California after."

"Ah—" Sakuno doesn't understand the shock that ran through her, a cold rushing through her extremities, her fingers, numbing, her stomach, twisting. After all, she knew all this time he would leave. "I— um— You didn't have to come all this way just to tell me."

"I know." Then, the dashing young man finds himself smirking. "I wanted to."

Sakuno doesn't know how to take it, so, when they both fall into another moment of awkward silence, she starts to chuckle; thinking the tension, the unease between them was unnecessary, was ridiculous. Her gaze rises to find his. And, her hazel eyes meeting his, she realizes, she accepts, that, if anything, this past month, they've become friends. Good friends.

"I'm happy for you, Ryoma-kun." She tells him with her voice calm, sure, soft. The smile she wore was small but finally – genuine. She shouldn't hold it against him, she thought with a shake of her head, that he never felt the same way about her. "You've been working so hard."

Ryoma shakes his head, still with the same boyish smirk in his lips. "As you've been."

Sakuno's smile widens, "I wasn't any better," Her brows knit apologetically; then, ends up laughing.

Ryoma's brows rise, a small smile on his face. "What?" He asks lightly.

"I can't believe I said all those horrible things to you." Her smile sobers, and a cloud of remorse washes the light in her eyes.

"Don't be sorry." Ryoma shakes his head, himself in disbelief over everything that happened between them the past few weeks. "I was an ass."

At this, Sakuno starts to laugh. "I never said I was sorry." She corrected jokingly, surprising Ryoma, making him laugh along with her. Then, her laugh dies down. And her gaze settles in his. There is something behind her eyes, her expression; hidden far behind, contemplating whether to surface. "You must know," She suddenly says, holding her trembling hands in front of her, fingers intertwined. "You must know-" She repeats in a choke, the tone of her voice stifles Ryoma's chuckles, sobering him. "-How I feel about you."

When Ryoma is unable to give a reply, she continues with a dry laugh, at herself, her situation, her infatuation with the young man in front of her. "It's been torture being with you this past month." She starts to cry again. And, with it, she starts hating herself for her weakness in front of him. "But it's been worse being without you." Then, she calms down, and faces him, smiling, content, thinking at least, "We've become quite good friends, haven't we, Ryoma-kun?"

"Ah," Ryoma nods, his expression stiff, lost, unsure.

"And it only took us five years and a month." Sakuno adds, the glaze in her eyes settling. Then, she smiles at Ryoma, so beautifully that he starts to ease, eyes focusing on her, trying to hold onto the image, knowing this could very well be the last time they'd speak to each other for a long while. "We've both come a long way."

A pause fills their exchange. And Ryoma, with his gaze averted, could barely keep his throat from locking.

"Hm," Sakuno hums. "What," She stops, not really knowing what to ask of him now, "Do you know what you'll be doing now?"

"Ah." Ryoma nods. "I'll be joining my brother." He takes a pause. And a small smile spreads on Sakuno's lips. "There's a skill that only the game can teach, and he believes it should be shared with everyone. I honestly don't know what they're planning, so I guess I'll see where we're headed." Then, he stops, seeing a gleam in Sakuno's eyes, seeing the smile on her lips widen. "What is it?" He unknowingly mirrors her smile.

At this, Sakuno grins. And, her chest warm, her face glowing, she tells him with a lightness in her tone, with a glaze in her eyes. "You're just incredible, Ryoma-kun."

"I'm not. I—" His brows knit, cheeks flushing, lips curving, "I'm just a very good tennis player." Then, he gives her his trademark smirk and, pulls down brim of his white baseball cap, and holds his hand out to her. "Goodbye, Ryuzaki."

And, Sakuno smiles back, wholeheartedly, warmly, fully, taking his hand in hers, calloused and rough against hers. Then, much to Ryoma's surprise, she raises her arms over his neck and pulls him into a tender, warm embrace. And, he is lost in her scent, her touch, when she whispers into his ear in farewell, "Goodbye, Ryoma-kun."

Chapter Text

"Ryoma-kun," Sakuno greets him from outside his home. The furniture have been covered with plastic. Floors have been swept and polished. And, as Ryoma steps outside the front gate with a duffle bag slung over a shoulder, doors have been closed and locked for, what seemed would be a long time.

Sakuno was jittery from where she sat on the passenger's seat, worriedly looking around her, desperate for a clearing. Beside her, on the wheel, her grandmother chuckled.

"We'll get there on time." Sumire reassured her worrywart of a granddaughter.

"It's safest to be in the airport one hour, obaa-san. One hour," She repeated for emphasis. "Before a flight."

"We'll get there on time." Ryoma chimed in from the seat behind the two, slouched with a hand slipped inside Karupin's bag, fingers tickling (annoying) the feline.

Sakuno only shot Ryoma a glare. "I don't want to be the reason you miss your flight. If you miss your flight, you'll have to get a later flight. Then you'll arrive late in the evening. Then you won't have enough time to rest. Then you'll be exhausted for your game -"

"Take a breath, Sakuno!" Sumire laughed. Ryoma even smirked where he was sitting. "See, we're already turning to merge to the expressway."

"Mou," Sakuno slid into her seat.

"For the record," Ryoma reminded them. "I could've taken the train."

"And miss this fun roadtrip?" A hand suddenly slapped Ryoma's shoulder from behind, earning a sour grimace from the young professional athlete. "Neh, Kaoru?" Tomoka giggled.

"Hn," Kaidoh only groaned, he too having been forced into the SUV in the last minute.

"Tch." Ryoma clicked his tongue. When Sakuno had asked if she could see him off to the airport, he readily accepted the offer, wholly mislead into thinking it would just be the two of them in the commute. But then, she told him that her grandmother offered to bring them in her car. Then, she said, why not invite Tomoka since she loved him (Ryoma) so much and there was additional space in the car, it being a six-seater. Then, of course, the annoying girl had to invite her boyfriend.

"Finally!" Sumire laughed. "Here we are." She slowed to a park. "With thirty minutes to spare!"

Grumbling, Sakuno immediately got out of her seat, "Thirty minutes is playing with fire!" And made a run for the back to help with Ryoma's luggage.

"Thanks," Ryoma nodded when she gave him some of his bags. Tomoka and Kaidoh had gone away somewhere.

"I'll see you in." Sakuno said, earning a confused but grateful expression from Ryoma.

And right as they enter the airport, a banner falls down from the second floor, and Ryoma is just blown away by the number of people who started crying and cheering his name. There was an incredible crowd of people he's never met, fans of his who had arranged for his send off. And he starts to smirk, finding among them his friends from junior high; and, before he could save himself, Eiji Kikumaru - suddenly lounges at him from out of nowhere and gives him the tightest embrace in the world.

"O! CHI! BI!" He cried, rubbing his cheek on top of Ryoma's red and annoyed face.

"Senpai," He gritted, unable to keep himself from laughing. Because - who - who would have thought they'd be here? "I can't believe - what are you all doing here?"

At this, Eiji laughs. "It's just us three, you know." He points to himself, Kaidoh, and Kawamura. Then, adds, "And if you remember Akaya,"

"Of course he remembers me." Akaya cries.

And Ryoma laughs. Before him, what was left of his team, older versions of them, seeing him off. Everyone had gone their separate ways, and soon too would he.

Ryoma bows to his upperclassmen, then waves to his fans. And, with a smirk, he turns to look behind him, and there he finds Sakuno standing beside Sumire and Tomoka. With the raise of a hand, Ryoma waves them goodbye; the family he's formed in Tokyo. In his hands, stuffed by random people he passed, was a bouquet wishing him well on his travels, and a tennis ball with his face drawn on it. One that had been given by Sakuno right as she helped him with his bags, telling him that he'll always have a friend in Tokyo.

It had been her winning tennis ball that she's given him. The same day of his friendly match was the day of her final game in the tournament. And later that evening, they all came together to see him off.

When Ryoma sat in the lounge, waiting for his flight to be called; when he placed his luggage over head, when he took his seat on the plane to travel back home to California where his brother and mother would be waiting, he gazed out into the horizon outside his window, idly playing with the tennis ball in his hand, and looked forward to what tomorrow had in store.

When Sakuno thought of life at university, she thought it would be very different from high school. She'd be more independent, study out with friends, drink sake and grill barbecue in some bar frequented by students. But, as she locked the door behind her, she found it all too similar. She lived with her grandmother. Rarely stayed in school longer than necessary. And, she met up with Tomoka everyday.

Granted, it's just been a week. Maybe, Sakuno thought as she waited for the bus, she should just join the tennis society of the university, or maybe the in-house organization. Or maybe, she should join her friend in the protest they were holding that coming Friday.

It had been quite a hectic transition, finally attending university, that she hasn't thought of seeing how Ryoma's been doing. Since he left about three months ago, he's been sending her pictures of where he's been travelling. And, she just couldn't help but gush in awe.

Looking around her, she guessed university life had its own perks. The colorful people she's met, the inspiring professors, the welcoming environment. As she walked into campus, she walks by a group of activists rallying over the latest disbursement of public funds and couldn't help but watch them in awe, wondering where they got their resolve and vigor to fight for their causes, wondering if she too would feel so strongly about politics enough to join rallies - when she suddenly misses a step and nearly falls on her ankle.

"Careful," Some random student tells her, helping her up.

Sakuno shakes her head, completely red, hiding her face behind the books in her hands. What an embarrassing klutz, you are, Sakuno! She berated herself. "I'm so sorry," She apologizes. And, as she looks up from her stupid foot, her breath hitches in her throat and her eyes double in size from the shock. "Ryo-Ryo-" She grabbed his hand, to check if he was really there.

The face that meets her gaze only laughs at her as he pulls her up. "It's been a while, Ryuzaki." They were a few feet away from each other, but; Sakuno starts to grin, beaming up at the handsome boyish smirk of Ryoma, they felt as if they couldn't be any closer.