I really wanted to write a thank-you fic for the 100plus author favs before I go into winter hibernation. Thank you very much, everyone! I really loved all your reviews, favs, alerts and PMs! And to greet astraldrop11 happy monthsary! I’m banned from going out so I wasn’t able to call you, honey. I’m really so sorry and I miss you like hell XD. Enjoy!

Edit: I self-beta’d this a few days ago and I found a LOT of typos and verb inconsistensies. I don’t know if I got them all but this is what I’ve edited so far. I hope this is a better copy though the changes were only grammatical and the plot remains the same. Thank you so much for all the reviews I got for this!

All disclaimers apply.

Racket

From the moment I saw Ryoma-kun’s face this morning, I knew that he would rather be anywhere else but here on a bright Saturday morning. I’m not being overly negative about this whole situation, but the frown on his face just speaks for itself.

See, you might have heard about this before. My grandmother somehow managed to bribe (or other forms of it that would take too much imagination – she didn’t tell me the details) Ryoma-kun into giving me tennis lessons every weekend.

Now, I can imagine lots of other things that he can do besides teach a coordinately-challenged (Is there even such a word?) girl whose hair was too long and who’s movements are too stiff.

But today, yes today, I am proving him wrong.

I hold my tennis racket grip as tightly as I can and from the corner of my eye, I see my knuckles going white. I glance at Ryoma-kun, and he nods in approval, before I proceed to throw the tennis ball into the air, putting all my concentration into hitting it. I can do this, I’m sure. I’ve been practicing really hard since this morning to prepare myself for Ryoma-kun’s lessons today.

Here I go.

Pak.

I shut my eyes tight and bend my knees, preparing myself for the ball’s return. I wait for the sound of the ball’s impact against the wall.

It’s coming.

It’s coming.

…

“You didn’t hit it hard enough.”

My eyes blink open, and I see Ryoma-kun going over to fetch the ball. It seems that it didn’t even reach the wall and I can feel a big blush come up my face. How embarrassing! Argh.

“And don’t close your eyes after you serve.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize as I get the ball from him.

Ryoma-kun shrugs and takes a nonchalant sip from his Ponta as if he already expected everything to turn out this way. “Just do it again, maybe you could get yourself one successful return,” he tells me.

I squint, trying to catch any trace of sarcasm in his tone but I find that he’s actually serious. I can’t decide if this depresses me more (that he actually thinks that getting returns is a big success for me!), but I have to prove Ryoma-kun wrong. I can do it. I can show him that teaching me isn’t a waste of his time. What was all that practice for, anyway?

I stretch before I throw the ball high up into the air once more. I keep my eyes on it, despite the glaring sunlight from behind me. With a small huff, I put all my strength into my arm and as I hit the ball, I feel the impact between it and my racket net. I’m sure it would be okay. My arms are shaking from the effort but I quickly bend my knees into return position, my eyes still on the ball.

Plok.

Oh my God.

I want to die.

I watch in humiliation as the ball, as if in slow motion, bounces back halfway towards me. It DID hit the wall this time, but the impact against the concrete was so weak that it didn’t even bounce straight towards me.

ARGH.

I run over to the ball and glance at Ryoma-kun while I pick it up. He is scratching his head, as if he couldn’t believe that a shot like that could be made by someone within his age bracket. I can’t agree more.

When I reach him, he gets the racket from me and I give it to him obediently. I am at lost for words. Ryoma-kun is probably thinking of ditching our weekend lessons because I suck at tennis beyond human capabilities. He observes the tennis ball in his hand, most likely because he’s expecting some dark, evil force come out of it.

I watch him silently as he does his serve.

Plok.

“Huh?” I hear him mutter in confusion.

Yes! YESSSS! The ball bounces towards him the way it bounced to me earlier. So I’m not much of a loser as I thought. I feel so elated that I approach Ryoma-kun. (Maybe you can call this ‘rubbing it in’ but getting it even really gives a girl much-needed ego-boost.)

Wait.

I stop midway.

What if my tennis talents actually rubbed off onto him? Didn’t they say that the world naturally sets itself in equilibrium? What if nature thought that placing Ryoma-kun and I in one place caused some sort of internal chaos in the universal equilibrium that it had to transfer some of my talents to Ryoma-kun or, or, or maybe, it had to dissolve some of Ryoma-kun’s tennis talents, thus lowering him to my level of playing? Oh no, oh no, I have just stripped the world of a tennis prodigy who might become a Grandslam champion one day. Oh no, oh no.

“Ryoma-kun, I didn’t mean to--“ I begin, but I stop in midway when I see his face.

He is staring at my racket.

“A-Ano, excuse me…”

He is still staring.

“Um, I have to go to the bathroom…”

Great. Just great. I must be so pathetic that Ryoma-kun even thinks that my racket is more attractive than me.

“Ryuzaki.”

I look up at him and I see that he’s putting away the (blasted) racket and the tennis balls. He hands the case over to me and he says, “Practice is over for today.” He gets his Ponta from the floor and sips from it again. “Great work.”

I groan internally. Ryoma-kun probably didn’t mean that and said it to make me feel better about our failed attempt at practice.

I glance at my side and the lunch box that sat nearby gave me an idea. “Ryoma-kun!” I call out, suddenly thinking of a way to make up for the waste of time. “I made rice balls!” Without waiting for his reply, I run over to the nearby tree and I show him the lunch box proudly. He goes over to sit next to me, throwing his empty can away as he passes by the recycling bin.

I beam as I open the box and smell the scent of freshly cooked rice (I keep them wrapped in foil so they wouldn’t go cold) and I hand him one. “I hope you like it!” I say invitingly.

He bites away half and I wait eagerly for his reaction.

Chew. Chew.

Nothing.

He gives me a momentary look, as if asking me to eat, too. Why, Ryoma-kun is extra-nice today! I smile back and I take a small bite out of my own…

… only to spit it out right after.

“S-Spicy…” I cry out as I flail around for my thermos. Ryoma wordlessly finishes his rice ball before he takes a calm sip out of his own thermos. I must’ve used wasabi powder instead of salt. Argh. This is why I kept telling oba-chan that we should use transparent shakers.

Ryoma-kun is really polite and I’m sure that he’s thinking that I’m an ungrateful student. After I make him run after my failed shots, after I make him witness my extreme failure as a tennis player, I give him spicy, inedible rice balls.

He must hate me.

“I’m s-sorry, I didn’t know that I was using… e-eto…”

He wipes his mouth on a piece of tissue before he stands up. “Mada, mada dane.”

--

“I need to go somewhere today,” he suddenly tells me on our way home.

Where? Where? I want to say, but instead, I nod unquestioningly and I watch him run off to the opposite street, wondering if walking me home also bores him to death.

Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Ryoma-kun THAT excited to go somewhere before. He never runs; he just saunters off uncaringly. And now that I see it, there’s only one possible, rational explanation for this sudden character change in Ryoma-kun.

He has a girlfriend.

Okay, calm down, Sakuno. Take a deep breath. One, two, three. Okay. Okay. I’m calm. I’m composed. I can take this like a mature girl and not be a crybaby about everything. After all, Ryoma-kun has no responsibility over me and I should really mind my own business. I should walk away calmly and think that, knowing Ryoma-kun, he’s probably off to some tennis match in the park or…

Oh, screw that.

I’m following him.

--

Ryoma-kun stops in front of a tennis store.

I sigh in relief. Though I’m somewhat embarrassed that I was expecting something else, I’m really happy that I’m wrong. Of course, Ryoma-kun isn’t interested in dating or girls or trivial stuff like that. He’s probably going to buy himself a new pair of shoes or a new set of tennis balls (since I lost half of what he brought in bushes and he tells me that it’s okay even though I know that it isn’t).

I turn on my heels, all my hard feelings evaporating from me when I suddenly hear a sound from hell.

“Ryo-chaaaaaaaan!”

I spin around, my mouth open wide with disbelief as my eyes have themselves stuck onto Ryoma-kun… and this girl.

I hurry back to my hiding spot and strain to see her better. She’s model-tall and model-thin, and she probably got that figure either naturally or from playing tennis. I guess that it should be the latter because she’s working in a sports shop (she’s wearing a shop uniform – which is a tight-fitting polo shirt and a short sports skirt). She looks like she’s in high school already. Her skin is bronzed with a tan and her hair is dyed fashionably blonde.

I can see Ryoma-kun nodding as she keeps talking excitedly. I can’t hear clearly, but from how they look, they seem to be having fun. Ryoma-kun is saying something now, and this time she’s also nodding thoughtfully.

Then they enter the shop together, with the girl’s hand around Ryoma-kun’s shoulder.

I sink down onto the floor.

ARGH.

--

When I finally get back home, all I wanted was to practice my tennis.

But instead, I can’t concentrate into doing one thing. I keep staring and/or glancing at the telephone, wondering when Ryoma-kun would ring and tell me that he needs to cancel our future lessons because he would be eloping with the Amazon-girl.

“Ryuzaki Sakuno, will you please stop staring at the telephone!”

I snap back at oba-chan and I see that she’s really annoyed. We’re eating now and I realize that I haven’t touched a grain of rice in my bowl. She sighs and takes a bite out of her food as she watches me curiously.

“Haii, oba-chan,” I mumble, putting a pickle inside my mouth.

“Really, I wonder what’s gotten into you. You’re usually chipper on Saturdays,” she said, drinking out of her tea cup. “Did something happen with Echizen?”

I shake my head ‘no’ and glance at the telephone again.

Oops.

“Sakuno, you’re telling me what happened right now,” oba-chan announces firmly. “I’ll go insane if you look at the phone one more time.” She points her chopsticks at me.

“Nothing,” I lie, bowing my head guiltily.

Oba-chan rolls her eyes and points the chopsticks at me again, this time, with a piece of shrimp hanging from it. “You can’t fool me with that, kid,” she says in her ‘coach voice’. “This old lady’s been around teenagers for so long that I know every nook and cranny of your minds.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, oba-chan,” I assure her half-heartedly. I’m not assured myself but the least I can do is to save oba-chan the worry. “The lessons are fine.” For now.

She seems to be contented with that and we proceed to eat in complete silence. I can hear the clink, clank of the utensils and I suddenly realize that in here, with oba-chan, I’m safe from everything. Ryoma-kun can’t reach the walls of our house made of love and understanding and years of being together.

And I glance at the telephone.

--

I’m in school right now and I’m doing my best to restrain myself. I don’t know what from. Sometimes, I’d think of going over to Ryoma-kun’s classroom and apologizing about the spicy rice balls and the tennis performance and sometimes, when I actually see him practicing, I’m glad that we’re not in the same class because I don’t know how I’d take the news of eloping.

No. I should not think like that. I should get up and tell Ryoma-kun that I’m sorry and ask all about what happened. Yes, that’s what I should do to stop all this obsessing.

“Saku-chan! I need some help!”

It’s Tomo-chan, her eyes with tears. She begins telling me about her new problems with the fan club, with all the random girls confessing to Ryoma-kun without her permission. During times like these, I can’t help but love Tomo-chan more. She just stopped me from making a big fool out of myself. Thank you, Tomo-chan.

“Ryuzaki! Someone’s looking for you!”

My head snaps into attention towards the door and I catch a glimpse of Ryoma-kun’s familiar hair.

“Yes, I’m coming!” I say cheerfully, out of habit.

Then it hit me. It’s Ryoma-kun. Outside. Waiting for me. About to tell me about eloping with the girl I saw with him. What should I do?

I look at Tomo-chan in panic and I could see the skeptical look on her face. Of course, I haven’t told her anything about what happened but I really need a possible excuse to avoid facing Ryoma-kun. I’m risking dying or fainting or something equally embarrassing.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Tomo-chan asks, pulling me out of my seat rather impatiently. “Ryoma-sama’s outside!”

And thus, here I am now, looking like a complete idiot.

“Ryuzaki, stop doing that.”

“Yes?”

“That…” he gestures towards my face uncomfortably. “You’re closing and opening your mouth really fast.”

“Oh.” Holy gods. “I’m s-sorry.” I clamp my mouth shut, making mental notes to keep it that way unless I embarrass myself more than I just already did.

“I can’t come on Saturday.” I knew it! I knew it!

“T-That’s okay.”

He scratches the back of his head. “And the other two Saturdays, too. I’m busy.”

“Ah, you don’t have to worry, Ryoma-kun!” I say extra-happily while I silently curse the Amazoness to eternal suffering, thinking that right now, they may be planning to have nine vine-swinging, tennis-prodigy babies. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

He gives me a single nod before he walks back to his room.

It’s the end.

--

I must not mope. I must not mope.

That’s the mantra I keep telling myself over and over for the past few days. I’ve been getting along well, thankyouverymuch.

Of course, at the beginning, things were undoubtedly bad.

On the first Saturday, I actually came to our meeting place, because I was so used to going out on early Saturday mornings. Then, I remembered that Ryoma-kun was already a happily-married man and that he won’t be bothering to help me with anything ever again. I ended up shopping (something I don’t particularly enjoy) and buying a hideous chameleon ceramic figure, and oba-chan, up until now, keeps pretending that she likes it even though it’s obvious that she doesn’t.

Then, on the days after, the effects were starting to take effect on my tennis performance. I haven’t won a single practice match (when I usually won the freshman matches) and all my serves ended up like the ones I made on last Saturday’s practice. All my service matches were lost and the points I gained were only from returns, which weren’t even much in the first place.

Our buchou reprimanded me about this and therefore, I decided on that day that I should concentrate more on everything else and stop thinking about hallucinatory babies and weddings.

So now, I’m doing errands to make up for my substandard performance back in the previous week. I’m assigned to carry the tennis balls back and forth and also, to mow one whole court on my own. It’s pretty much a light punishment considering the pathetic show I put up before.

“Haii, buchou.”

My ears perk up in attention and I turn around instantly at the sound of the familiar voice. I then realize that I’m directly in front of the men’s tennis courts.

Ryoma-kun.

Quickly, I rush to the fence and instantly, I see him bowing in front of Tezuka-sempai. He isn’t eloped yet, thank heavens.

“Are you sure that what you’re doing is necessary?” Tezuka-sempai replies stiffly. He adjusts his glasses. “You’ve been attending only half of our practices.”

Ryoma-kun says, “Yes,” quickly, and I can see that his hold onto his bag is tight. “It’s important. I have to leave now.”

Tezuka-sempai gives a nod of approval before Ryoma-kun runs off.

More important, huh.

I must not mope. I must not mope.

--

I can’t help it. This is taking up much of my thinking strength and I really don’t find thinking about Ryoma-kun very appealing. I am really tired of this and I am going to end everything – this madness – once and for all.

I haven’t stopped moping. Forget the mantra. I’ve stopped saying that since three days ago, when I actually saw Ryoma-kun in the same shop, wearing the same uniform and in the same breathing space as that girl.

Argh.

And so, now, I’m cornering Horio-kun, hoping to, at least, get something good from him and get to the end of everything.

“Horio-kun,” I begin nervously. “I… e-eto… was wondering where Ryoma-kun ran off to? Y-You see, sensei… um… asked me to give something to him…” I’m lying, again. I can’t believe that my soul is corrupted now.

“Echizen’s working part-time,” he tells me confidently, and he looks like he’s enjoying the thought of knowing something about Ryoma-kun that most of us didn’t. “You know that sports shop near the park?”

I nod.

“I really don’t get what he said but he mentioned something about doing it for a girl.” Horio pauses. “But don’t take my word for it. He told it to Momo-chan-sempai and they were teasing him about it.”

“A girl?” I repeat his words, as if saying them would make them mean something entirely different.

Horio nods again. “Anyway, have you seen that awesome shot I did a while back? I knew that my two years of tennis experience weren’t for waste! It was something between the twist serve and the… wait, where’re you going, Ryuzaki?”

“I… I’m sorry. I have to go tell sensei…”

“I can give it to Echizen tomorrow for you,” Horio-kun offers, holding out his hand to take the envelope I’m holding.

“It’s okay, Horio-kun,” I say, smiling, and pulling my hand back. “Thank you very much.”

I see a faint glimpse of red on Horio-kun’s face before I dash off.

That’s it. I’m going home.

--

On the way home, the whole thing finally sinks in.

This absolutely stinks. Not only have I kept myself in denial for the past week, I have been also secretly hoping that none of my guesses were true. I guess it’s my karma’s fault. I’ve been really mean to that girl he works with and I’ve been thinking about a boy instead of concentrating on something less shallow.

Now, everything in the world hates me and things are flowing past my hands like running water.

I must stop hounding our phone for apology calls and I must stop annoying my grandmother. I will turn on a new leaf, live my life from the beginning, practice tennis until I can’t feel my knees anymore and show Ryoma-kun what I’m made of.

I may not have proven myself in the last lesson we had, but I’m pretty sure that if I try harder, I might be able to get a spot in our Regulars. Of course, that will take me double – or even more – efforts but it’ll be worth it.

I’ve been playing tennis even before I met Ryoma-kun and I won’t stop just because he’s gone.

I smile, feeling strangely light. A new epiphany, probably. It really IS nice to take a break from that train of thought.

“Oi, Ryuzaki.”

Oh, God, no.

Why oh why am I now hearing Ryoma-kun’s voice in my head? Have I gone completely crazy from thinking about nothing important but him for the past two weeks? Have I been so influenced by my subconscious that it’s now taking over?

“Ryuzaki!” It’s the voice again, this time with more persuasion.

I begin walking fast, gripping my tennis racket case firmly.

“Stop, Ryuzaki!”

No, no! I will not listen to voices in my head! Go away! I’m going home!

I feel a hand stop me by pulling on my sleeve. Oh no, it’s getting worse. Now, I’m having imaginary hands stop me. I’m really going crazy. Should I still go home? Who knows what I can do to oba-chan while I’m on the brink of insanity? I couldn’t possibly endanger her life like that. I should go away, far, far away. Maybe I could change my name or maybe I could lock myself up somewhere…

“Didn’t you hear me?”

I turn around, even though my common sense keeps stopping me, and I see Ryoma-kun, whose eyebrow is arched high up in either amusement or irritation – I really don’t know which of the two.

“S-Sorry,” I mumble, still happy from the discovery that I’m not crazy after all. Ryoma-kun is here in the flesh, but then again, there’s still the possibility that it’s an imaginary Ryoma-kun…

“Okay, well, look,” he begins, taking off the tennis racket case slung on his back. He sets it on the floor and opens it. I peer at him closely, wondering what on earth is happening, when he thrust a racket towards me.

I take it and cock my head questioningly. By this time, all thoughts of imaginary people are gone. “Err… Do… Do you want to play, Ryoma-kun?” Or maybe he wants me to polish his rackets. Or maybe he wants me to use two rackets to practice because I possibly can’t be better using just one.

“That’s for you.”

“EH?” I almost shriek. I hold the racket nervously. It’s shiny and pink and new and it looks just like the racket that Ryoma-kun thought was more attractive than me. “What for?” I blurt out, taken aback.

He stands up and scratches the back of his head again. He’s scowling a bit, as if recalling a very bad memory. Which he was, apparently. “The metal holding your strings are worn out, and the rim was giving in because the metal was moving too much. Rika-san from the shop told me that it couldn’t be repaired by the stringer.”

Rika-san. Oh. THAT Rika-san.

I take out the old racket and begin comparing it with the new one. Sure enough, the rim of the racket looks a bit more distorted than the new one. I look up at Ryoma-kun in surprise. “I… I’ll pay you back as soon as I can, R-Ryoma-kun!”

“You don’t have to,” Ryoma-kun replies, shrugging.

“Then… the part time job…”

Ryoma-kun covers his face with his hand in irritation. “Ugh. I told Horio not to tell anyone…” he mutters. He glances at me, his face flushed a bit. “Never mind, I had nothing better to do, anyway.” He turns around, ready to go the other way. “See you on Saturday,” he says, and he gives me a small wave.

“But why?” I ask loudly.

He suddenly stops walking and looks back at me, a look of disbelief in his face. I cock my head again, and he turns back.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks.

“Eh?”

He gives me a smirk. “Mada, mada, Ryuzaki.” He turns around and begins his walk home.

With that, I sink to the floor once more. I knew it. I KNEW it.

Ryoma-kun has a fetish for rackets!

Fin.

Finally. Now I have to prepare for school tomorrow. I must say sorry in advance because starting from now, my updates for The Gigolo and Solace would come in late intervals.

EDIT! I realized that I might have confused you with the last part. Yes, Ryoma meant what you think he meant. Nothing related to rackets, that thought came exactly from Sakuno's denseness. Thank you to Ribs on the Run for the review regarding that.

Thank you all so much and take care!

Neko11lover

P.S. I think that Sakuno-chan is a perfectly normal teenage girl who doesn’t stutter in her thoughts, who doesn’t think positively of everyone in every waking second (because seriously, that’s just creepy), who experiences the feared-yet-inevitable teenage-girl syndrome now and then. And so, I’ve had her think out loud and show a side of Sakuno that I always have believed to exist.