Alternate Rumic World MI-1: Ace no Ikkoku

[an offshoot from the Variations on a “Them” thread of the “Rumic World Messageboard”]

by RyogasGirl & jalp

(Not that we own these characters! They belong to Takahashi-sensei and whoever she says.

We’ve just enjoyed finding a few new ways for these people to make things interesting. . . .)

Imagine there’s no Sôichirô teaching at her high school. Perhaps young Chigusa Kyôko isn’t as distracted from her studies. Or maybe she puts her extra time and energy into her tennis.

She was good in the RRW (Real Rumic World). In this ARW timeline, she’s better. Good enough to shine in some local tournaments – to dream of qualifying for the professional tour.

And then she catches the eye of a certain male pro. . . .

Episode #1: Everybody Loves Kyôko

Chapter 4:

Full-Court Press

. . . and on into a room with a low temporary stage; some chairs, tables, and microphones; and all the noise and crowding for position of a press conference just about to start. Fortunately, Yotsuya had brought them in at an unoccupied corner of the room off to one side of the stage. So no had one noticed them enter – something Godai was infinitely grateful for. And – his heart skipped a beat – Kyôko-san was seated on this side of the stage.

“There, you’re delivered – now, just don’t forget my delivery: deluxe sushi.” Godai heard Yotsuya’s reminder, but he’d worry about that later. Another problem was clamoring for his attention. So I’m here – great – now what am I going to do?

Acting on his first impulse, Godai struggled to move closer to the stage. Maybe I could block a camera or – two . . . but that line of thought quickly faltered; there were so many reporters. What good could he do by himself, just getting in the way of a few of them? He looked back at his former travel guide – but Yotsuya was being no help whatsoever. He even seemed to be getting buddy-buddy with one of the reporters.

Meanwhile, the rest of the army of journalists began their barrage of questions.

“Chigusa-senshu, why have you remained single throughout your career?” came one voice from the crowd.

“Chigusa-senshu, do you think you’re unstoppable, as many of your fans are saying?” another voice asked.

“What do you think of Mitaka-senshu as a competitor?” still another reporter shouted, just ahead of a ragged chorus of questioners – all, it seemed, seeking answers from just one of the four players on the platform.

Kyôko started off from the answer she was most comfortable with. “I think today’s match went well, but I’m always trying to improve.” Then, sensing that this would not stem the tide of questions, she decided to add something new, more relevant to the day’s competition. “And after playing against an opponent like Mitaka-senshu, I know what a long way there is still to go.”

“But you won today, Chigusa-senshu.” a voice called out, asking the same question that was on everyone’s mind.

“The match could have gone to either side. He really is a wonderful player, and I look forward to facing him again someday. Or maybe we could even be partners next time.” Actually, Kyôko realized, she felt unusually comfortable today. She wasn’t desperate to leave, as she usually was. It’s that smile, she thought, it really is so disarming. . . . Then she mentally blinked. Disarming? What am I, under attack? He's been a gentleman so far, so why would I have my defenses up to begin with?

Deep in thought, Kyôko remained unaware of the next few reporters’ questions. She almost didn’t even hear when a familiar voice rose above the crowd.

“So you would consider being my partner?”

Mitaka had stood up from his seat at the other end of the stage. He’d gained confidence from her answers to the reporters. The whole room went silent. Even the cameras stopped snapping.

“I’d be honored to be your partner, Mitaka-senshu, at least on a trial basis to see how compatible we are together,” Kyôko answered cheerfully, bowing slightly in his direction. She knew they’d sweep any tourney together.

Now a reporter finally spoke up . . . and when he did, the temperature of the room went up several degrees. “So, what kind of compatibility are you hoping for, Chigusa-san?”

What kind of compatibility? Mitaka’s eyes widened. He’d been around long enough to know this was going in a dangerous direction.

Kyôko’s eyes were even wider. But before she could speak, one reporter got in with “When was your first date?” And “Have the two of you compared horoscopes or zodiac signs yet?” asked another.

“What are you talking about?!” But Kyôko heard her matron’s whispered reminder – not that it helped: “It doesn’t have to be true. . . .”

“We’re just professional partners.” Now the young player’s eyes narrowed as she became more agitated. “So this is how you get your stories? Taking innocent comments and turning them into something they’re not?”

“If you want to see his partner off the courts, I’m right here,” came a voice from the back of the room. The Fabulous Akemi had just made another stunning entrance. Several reporters turned her way. So did most of the cameras, much to the relief of the new on-court partners. Even if Akemi was probably just thinking of herself, the momentary distraction was welcome.

“So, Akemi-san, how do you feel about his relationship with Chigusa-senshu?”

“Relationship?” Kyôko reacted. “There is no relationship – we just met.” Now she wanted the press to pay her some attention . . . but it felt like her protests were in vain.

Then a tall reporter toward the back of the room piped up. “Mai-Asa Sports News . . . I understand there were two other tournaments this week that you could have played in. Did you have a particular reason to choose this one?”

A question I can answer! Kyôko thought, welcoming the chance to change the subject with all her heart. “Yes, I did – I really wanted to support this worthy cause, and help JAWS raise money to protect animals. My own dog was a stray, in fact.” She smiled. So did the reporter. “Of course, I also knew the competition would be good . . .”

“Yes, about the match – I have a follow-up question. . .” he started to say. But, judging by the uproar, she and this one man seemed to be the only ones in the room who wanted to talk about tennis.

Before the Mai-Asa representative could finish his question, a bulkier reporter challenged him: “C’mon, buddy, we’re getting something good here!” Taking advantage of the interruption, other men in the audience pulled out previously unseen cameras and pushed forward towards the stage. Paparazzi! Suddenly Kyôko was facing a twin barrage of camera flashes and personal questions.

“Chigusa-senshu, Chigusa-senshu, what attracted you to Mitaka-senshu first?”

“How long have you been meeting out of the public eye?”

“Akemi-san, did you leave Mitaka-senshu or did he call it off?”

“Yes, Chigusa-senshu, which one of them told you about their break-up first?”

Godai had been completely entranced by the sight and the nearness of his favorite tennis pro. But now he could see she was out of her element – ganged up on by an increasingly loud and hostile press corps. Alarmed, Godai turned to the only other person in the room he knew – hoping against hope to see some back-up.

Instead, he saw Yotsuya exchanging leers with a photographer. “Yotsuya-sa— hey, what are you doing now?!”

“So you’re saying that guy will get me four bottles of sake? Sure, why not? Beats what I coulda got for these – with all the competition here, it’s not exactly a seller’s market..” The photographer handed over a roll of 35mm film.

“What the heck?! Wait, I’m going to do what?!” Godai sputtered.

“Don’t concern yourself with trifles,” reiterated Yotsuya, pocketing the film as he pontificated at Godai.

“Fine, I probably don’t want to know what that was about, anyways – but I’m not buying anyone else sake.” Godai took a step towards the stairs at the end of the stage – but the clamor had only grown, and he wasn’t able to go any farther. Neither will the press conference, he realized.

“It seems Chigusa-senshu is in need of your assistance after all,” Yotsuya was saying, looking up at the stage where the young star had risen and was trying to find a way out of the mess. “And I can help you help her, Gofer-kun,” he added calmly, unfazed by the crowd around them.

“I don’t want any more of your kind of help!” Godai snarled. But what else can I do? He too could see Kyôko-san frantically looking this way and that for a break in the confusion. Mitaka-senshu was standing as well – but he was on the far end of the stage, and it wouldn’t be easy for him to get to her side either. Shikata ga nai. “Oh, never mind! Go ahead, just do whatever it is you have in miiii — !”

Suddenly he found himself flying into another nearby cameraman, knocking him and his tripod over. And with the crowd as thick as it was, this meant several more people fell over in turn. In no time at all, a line of human dominoes had cleared a path through the confusion, leading right up to the stairs down from the stage.

“Chigusa-senshu, this way!” Yotsuya stepped over the now-prone Godai, offering his hand to the relieved tennis pro.

“Look, we can get out of here.” Ichinose-san grabbed Kyôko’s other hand and pulled her through the hole Yotsuya – and Godai – had made, pushing aside the few reporters who tried to get in the way. “Arigatô gozaimasu!” she hollered to Yotsuya in passing, as she ran interference for her charge.

Things were moving too fast for Kyôko – she was moving too fast – to notice everything that was going on. But as she joined her matron and lead blocker in thanking Yotsuya-san, she realized there was someone else literally underfoot. She bent her head down as she ran (coincidentally spoiling the aim of three more photographers), and said, “Gomen nasai, ne? I’m very sorry about this – but thank you too, whoever you are!”

“Ahh, don’t worry about him – save your breath for running!” Ichinose-san advised her. “Besides, gofers like him love to dig holes in the ground anyway.”

They ran out of the conference room towards two security guards waiting to escort them out a private exit to the reserved parking area. Without the star attraction there, the reporters began to filter out of the room. The few who tried to follow Chigusa-senshu found two men in their path, and had to backtrack to the room’s regular doorway.

“Stop brushing me off like that, and let me go!!”

“Are you not going to thank me as well, Gofer-kun?” Yotsuya switched to straightening out Godai’s vest, lining up the seams and creases with those in his uniform trousers . . . and continuing to steer him into the aisle, using the young man like a human fly-swatter to shoo away the last, most persistent journalists.

“What for? I could have stood up faster myself if you hadn’t kept picking me up right in the way of that TV camera! Ooohhh. . . .” Godai moaned, holding his back.

“Now, now, steady, Gofer-kun,” Yotsuya replied, giving the younger man a solid two-handed shoulder tap that raised one more cloud of dust. “Is that any way to treat someone who’s magically granted your wish?”

“What are you talking about, you rat?” Godai coughed weakly through the haze.

“Sumimasen, what was that?” Yotsuya put his hand up to his ear, and his ear up toward Godai’s mouth.

“You rat, I said! You pushed me down, took all the credit, and got pictures of Lord-knows-what from one of those paparazzi. Why should I have to buy you anything?!” Godai’s voice picked up steam as his throat slowly cleared, and the volume actually drove Yotsuya back an inch or two.

“Oh, was that your question? Well, the main reason is that I delivered you here as promised – and as a result of our taking our positions here at just the right time, the lovely Chigusa-senshu is now safely on her way home.” Yotsuya turned around to leave, pulling a panel away from the wall. “Now, if you will excuse me – and I believe you have some custodial duties awaiting you out in the stands.”

“And where are you going?” Godai couldn’t help asking.

“Oh, I must head back to the clubhouse lounge.”

“B-b-but those ladies might still be in the locker room. Are you really going back in there?” Godai protested, even as he was thinking, What do I care if Yotsuya gets beaned with more shampoo?

“Oh, I’m sure the sight of you hurried them along to leave more quickly than usual, Gofer-kun,” Yotsuya said matter-of-factly. “But you’re right – I’m going to take the other way back to the clubhouse.”

“The other way? You mean we didn’t have to go through the ladies' locker room?!”

“No, we didn’t HAVE to. . . .” And Yotsuya disappeared into the darkness. Just as the slat fell into place with a slap, he called out, “I’ll be back for the party.”

Party?

Godai strolled slowly back to the employee’s lounge where he could punch out for the day. Finally. He hoped that Kyôko-san had made it to wherever she had been going. But the last thing Yotsuya-san had said was still buzzing in his head. Party? Oh! He came to a sudden realization. Hadn’t Mitaka-shachô needed the conference room after the reporters left? Of course, a post-tournament soirée. Of course, Kyôko-san will be there. And after all, a soirée needs waiters. He quickly started towards his manager’s office to volunteer for overtime. But first, I’ll make a phone call. This may give me a chance to pay back a debt I owe. . . .

Yes, everybody loves Kyôko. But some of us have uncomfortable ways of showing it.

Maybe it’s no wonder that Chigusa-senshu has so far declined all requests for personal interviews. But it feels like one. In today’s world, we’re not used to anyone who could be a star – a nova – maybe a supernova – but who doesn’t want to shine in the public eye.

Is that mysterious? Maybe if you’re Greta Garbo. In this writer’s opinion, a better word for Chigusa Kyôko is simply “private”.

Still, the mystery behind this phenom, this phenomenon, this “Chigusa puzzle”, has only served to make paparazzi follow the reserved athlete that much closer.

Needless to say, “everybody” includes me – and I’ll be keeping an eye on the new darling of the Japanese tennis world like every other fan. But – fair warning to readers who may hope for inside stories – I won’t always have the closest view. Because I’m going to watch as politely and respectfully as I can.

As if she has a right to a private life – just like the rest of us.

Although Kyôko does appreciate her privacy, we won't mind if you take another glimpse or two into her life. If you don't mind being nosy either, please read on – and please tell us what you think of our retelling of her story in a review.