PoT Ryosaku
Disclaimer: I don't so you won't
During and After US Open
By: angelhazel
A/N: Ah, was told not to change Sakuno too much … sorry ryomafan, bad habit of mine. This one will be as brutally In Character and Non-AU as my single brain cell can take … here we go …
It's been a week since he got to New York, Echizen Ryoma mused as he stared up at the ceiling of his temporary dwellings. Once he touched ground in the USA, he was brought to this room where he had to take care of himself, and his stowaway cat, for some 2 weeks all on his own.
Even now he couldn't figure out how Karupin got through the customs at the airports. The only reason he could come out with was that his lazy cat slept all the way from home and the Infrared scans showed it up as some cuddly cat-shaped plush toy. What did the guards think of Ryoma when they saw the "toy"? Most probably that he needed the security of a familiar object while he went overseas alone. Cheh.
But now wasn't the time to worry about what strangers thought. Ryoma had yet to call back to Japan since he got to NY, he was contemplating precisely who to call as he lay there on the hotel bed, Karupin in its usual spot on his stomach.
Stroking his cat's ears, Ryoma thought about calling home to tell his father that he had made it through the quarterfinals. Oyaji would be glad to hear that his son was well on the way to making him proud. Ryoma paused on this thought. What was the point of making his Oyaji proud again? Hmm, was there one? He imagined calling the Echizen residence back in Japan and tried to predict who would pick up the call and what he or she would say.
A glance at the clock and he did some quick calculation. It was morning over here and almost bedtime back home. Nanako-neesan would be doing her homework and Kaa-san would be preparing for work tomorrow. Nanjiroh would be in the Living room, reading his dirty magazines. The person most likely to pick up the line would be Nanjiroh, Ryoma decided, by virtue of him being nearest the phone and no one else would be within calling distance.
Ryoma ventured to guess what his Oyaji would say over the phone, and was none too surprised that the topic of girls came up before anything about tennis would. That was all he needed to know, he would not be calling home this morning or any other. His Oyaji can find out about his qualifying for the semifinals the same way the rest of the world would, through the live-broadcast starting tomorrow.
Karupin meowed its agreement, as though sensing its owner's thoughts.
That cat was probably telepathic. Ryoma couldn't get over the strange feelings he got when he bid Karupin goodbye back in Japan. Even then he knew something was wrong, but he could even guess that his pet was 'planning' to stowaway in his luggage.
Ryoma thought of his Seigaku team and the matches that had started yesterday, Japan time. He wondered how they fared. Actually, he wasn't worried that they would lose, he was curious about how badly they beat their opponents.
Him being in the states meant that he was missing out on a lot of Fuji and Tezuka action back in Tokyo. Which was such a shame, he could do with more of their game data until he could find a way to overcome the tensai's triple-counters and the Buchou's Tezuka Zone.
He wondered how Momo-senpai was doing. The dunk-smasher was probably having the time of his life, Ryoma decided with a small smile.
Maybe he could call one of them up to find out how they were doing.
Nah. Wouldn't want them to think their Ochibi was dependent on them, or that he missed them or something. Especially when he really wasn't. Really wasn't, not lonely or anything like that.
He had today to himself, and he planned to get in some practice before the semi-finals tomorrow. There simply wasn't anything else to do; he was here to play tennis after all. Not that he was complaining about it, since tennis was one of his first loves.
He glanced at his bedside table on which sat the collection of farewell presents from senpai-taichi and his friends. A brightly colored tennis ball stood out among the knick-knacks. He reached out and took hold of it. Karupin was attracted by this new toy and was batting its paws at the ball.
"Da me, Karupin," Ryoma scolded his mischievous cat and sat upright in bed, holding the tennis ball way above Karupin's reach.
The cat sulked and went to lie at the foot of the bed, turning its face away from its owner.
Left in peace, Ryoma turned the tennis ball until he saw the writing on it. Done in black marker, it read, "No. 1 among the nations!" in neat kanji. He gave a genuine smile when he remembered the girl.
Flash back- (I am obsessed ... so sue me, or rather, pleeeease don't)
For a moment at the Narita airport, while the announcer called for his flight to NY, he thought with a sinking heart that she wasn't coming to send him off. Then he realized his flight was delayed, and he gave himself a bit of hope. Perhaps she was just late, wouldn't be too far off the mark, knowing as he did how clumsy she was and how she had zero sense of direction. Now that his flight was late as well, maybe he would get to see her before he left.
Seconds ticked into minutes and minutes marched past on an accelerando. It was beginning to look like she wasn't coming at all. To cover up for his unease, he excused himself from his senpai-tachi and went to get a Ponta, the miracle potion for everything and anything that can ail Echizen Ryoma.
On his way back, he saw a small figure running into the airport, trailing two long pigtails. He had to clamp down on the relief and joy filling his heart when he saw her. She was staring at the clock and sank to the ground dejectedly after a moment. Probably thought she missed his flight, the baka. If she was this concerned, couldn't she have come earlier? And save him the emotional up-and-downs of the past hour or so.
She deserved to be reprimanded for being late, he decided. He swung up in a lazy manner, still sipping his Ponta in a pretense of nonchalance.
"You came too late."
She looked up and took a minute to recognize him before she gave a gasp.
"Your reaction is too slow."
She was getting up clumsily, and her swinging pigtails caught his eye for the umpteenth time since they had met. "R-Ryoma kun …"
"Your hair is too long." Call him childish, but that was the only reaction he could come up with every time he caught himself fascinated by her hair. He was quite appalled actually, that he paid her hair, and her, so much attention.
"Long hair doesn't really …." She was cut off by shrill wolf whistles and loud calls from the senpai-tachi.
Ryoma frowned at his nosy senpai-tachi. What did they think they were doing? He was having a PRIVATE conversation with Sakuno, for goodness sake. What did they hope to achieve by making those lewd noises? He glared at them, trying to impose upon them the silent command to keep it down over there. Sakuno was so shy, she probably wouldn't dare talk to him in front of those noisy people and he really wasn't at liberty to drag her off to a more private corner. Her grandmother, his coach, was standing right there, after all. Not to mention his baka Oyaji who could do even worse on his own compared to a whole team of nosy tennis players. Ryoma could only thank his luck stars that his Kaa-san was there to keep a leash on that baka old man.
"The plane was delayed," he informed Sakuno briskly, while maintaining his Glare of Death at the noisy group standing a little from them.
"Souka. Anou … I am late because I really couldn't decide what to get for you," Sakuno started saying after glancing to and fro with a worried look for some time. She probably decided there really wasn't time to bother with the on-lookers, which was true; the announcer would be calling for his flight again very soon.
"Ah?" He gave her a distracted reply since he was still rather occupied trying to Glare his senpai-tachi into silence.
"Demo, remember that you asked for my tennis ball the other day? So I thought, a present for Ryoma-kun simply has to be," she dug into the bag she was carrying, making crinkling sounds with the crisp paper, "This!" she declared in triumph.
"Ah?" He turned around to see her holding a tennis ball, with some kanji written on it in her neat handwriting. "All-Japan No.1?" He questioned her with a raised brow. He knew she was rather oblivious to her surroundings, but the fact that she was here seeing him off at the airport, didn't that suggest well enough that he wasn't going for the All-Japan tournament? She was such a lost cause! Albeit a most adorable lost cause who was smiling sweetly at him.
"Not number one in Japan, number one among all the Nations, at the US open you are going to. I know you can do it, because you are Ryoma-kun." This was delivered with the same distracting smile on her face, but he was clear-minded enough to smile back as he received the present with a short thanks.
Last call for his flight, he had to go. Holding his latest treasure tightly in one hand, he turned from her and walked towards his future. He heard her cheer for him, and lifted the tennis ball in answer. He would not fail her. Nor would he fail the team he had come to know. And he would not fail himself.
End of Flashback, Back to the Future-
Turning the tennis ball over and over in his hand, he wondered how she was doing. He hoped she kept up with her training, he had observed her long enough to know she really was getting a little better. She probably was busy supporting the team at the tournament, though, and wouldn't have much time to practice herself.
Ryoma glanced at the hotel telephone. Should he call her? She would have just gotten home from the tournament; maybe he could ask her how the team fared. And, of course, he could remind her to train. That was the main purpose, wasn't it?
If he wanted to call anyone back in Japan, he had better decided soon, otherwise everyone would be in bed already. It was unlike him to be in two minds about something. The recent experience over the US Open had made him miserable. Ryoma didn't want to be put into such a situation again. When his heart and his mind went in different directions, it was his feelings and his game that suffered.
He came to NY by following his heart, and it was the right choice. Perhaps now he should also listen to his heart.
Well? He questioned the elusive organ.
Pick up the phone, before your mind caught onto the plot, was the reply.
He didn't know how he was transported from bed to desk, but suddenly, there he was, with the handset cradled between ear and shoulder and the sound of a phone ringing from way across the pacific.
"Ryuuzaki residence. Konbanwa, who is it?"
This must be his lucky day, he decided. Just before the line was picked up, a surge of panic had hit him when he recalled precisely who else could have picked up this phone call. Lucky! He took a deep breath to calm the ebbing alarm.
In. Out. "Ore da."
"A-ano, R-Ryoma kun?" He could hear the mixed surprise and pleasure in those familiar words. It was true that they seldom conversed, and that for a long time, she only said a few words to him. To be more exact, only his name, "Hai" and "Iie", and most often the filler words "Ano" and "Eto" while she was trying to decide whether or not to talk to him. They had exchanged more words at the airport than the previous months combined.
But Ryoma was a fast learner, and he had already discovered that she could mean a dozen different things just by saying his name. There was the worried "Ryoma-kun" accompanied by a frown for the times he got hurt on the court, the softly uttered "Ryoma-kun" when she was watching his games and wanted to encourage him, the hesitant "Ano Ryoma-kun" when she had something to say to him, the distracted "Ryoma-kun, Eto" when she was trying not to say something to him, and just "Ryoma-kun" when she wanted to greet him.
He liked the one he just heard over the line, it made her sound like she was pleasantly surprised to get a call from him. Surprise was good, wouldn't want her to expect calls from him after all. And pleasant was good, too. It meant she liked to hear from him. And it did not escape his notice that she could recognize his voice so quickly.
All in all, he was glad he called. "Ah," he replied to the girl waiting on the other end of the line. Couldn't let her know all that nonsense he just thought about, his mind told his heart.
"Are you all right over there?" She sounded concerned. Cheh, he was an independent twelve-year-old, did she think he was like her? And even if he weren't "all right", he would rather have his mouth sewed up then tell her.
"Betsuni. Did you go support the team today?" Ryoma didn't want her to dwell on his well being, he could take care of that, and Karupin's, all on his own. She, on the other hand, needed someone to take care of her.
"Hai. We won today, only played the doubles and singles 3. Inui-senpai and Kaidoh-senpai played D2, they won by a close margin. The Golden Pair did very well in D1, and …" she hesitated here, and he could hear her intake of breath. Ryoma decided it was a good kind of pause; his instincts told him that she was going to say something that would make him glad.
"Sorede? S3 was Momo-senpai darou? What was the score?" He wouldn't be far off the mark; Ryuuzaki-sensei wouldn't put Fuji and Tezuka in S3 position so soon into the tournament. Good things come last, was the common saying, and she wouldn't want to overwork Tezuka's arm so early.
"Un! Momo-senpai had a straight win! And he dedicated the match to you," there was a smile in her voice, "in front of all the other schools. Then everyone clapped and cheered, for him and for you, too!"
Wasn't he glad he didn't call any of his teammates, he was embarrassed enough hearing about it from a third party. A dedication, he mused. Momo-senpai was such a romantic despite his loud voice and rough looks.
"Ano, Ryoma-kun?" she asked timidly when he didn't reply for sometime.
"Hn?"
"How are you doing in the US open?" she had given him news from home, and was dying to know how things were over at his end.
"Ah, the first round of selections was over yesterday afternoon, I will be playing in the semifinals from tomorrow morning," he replied nonchalantly.
"You are doing so well! Congratulations, Ryoma-kun," this was the one that was accompanied by the slight blush every time she told him in person. He wondered if her cheeks were tinted pink now.
"Tokorode, are you still practicing everyday? Supporting the games is no excuse for slacking, you know?" he decided he had to change the topic before he started blabbering nonsense about her blushes.
"Eto, ano ne…" Oh, he knew what that meant, all right.
"I should think you would be able to improve a little more by the time I get back next week," he said by way of chastising her inconsistency in training.
"Ryo-ryoma-kun!" Hmm, this one took him a little while to figure out. He knew she was expressing disbelief, what he didn't understand was why.
"Doushita? If you work on the mistakes I have told you about, you can improve significantly in a week." He decided on the wrong reason in his reply, because she soon came back with a very long answer.
"Iie. I, I just thought that … ano … when you win the US open … eto … Ano ne, when you become famous, … eto … that you, maybe, wouldn't want to return to Japan," the last few words were spoken so softly, he had to strain his ears to hear her. But hear her he did.
"I never said I wasn't going back," he bit out a reply in annoyance. Why would she question that? He still had to attend Seigaku for 2 more years at least, even if he was made Professional Player after this event. He was only twelve, for goodness sake, schooling was important!
"Hai, wakatteru kedo, I was just worried," she was whispering again, and this time with his ears attuned to her, he could pick out quiet sniffles.
Sigh. Trust her to affect him so greatly with a few sniffles over a long-distance phone call. He gentled his voice reluctantly and told her in clear terms, " I, will, return, after, the, US, Open." That was all he could think of to soothe her worries. He didn't want to add anything along the lines of "wait for me" although he could clearly hear his heart tell her exactly that. It didn't sound like something normal friends told each other, so he opted to keep it to himself.
She had calmed somewhat, as far as he could make out from the whisper of her breaths. He decided to hang up before he said something inappropriate. "Ja, mata. It's getting to be late morning here and I have to go practice, Oyasumi."
"Hai, Oyasuminasai, Ryoma-kun." She replied quietly.
Ryoma replaced the handset after he heard the dial tone and stood staring at the phone for a while before he spun around and grabbed his tennis bag on his way out the door. Time was getting away; he needed to keep up his momentum for the rest of his stay here.
One afternoon a few days later, Ryoma had just finished his last match for the semifinals. It was a very difficult match; the opponent was very strong in form and technique. Towards the end both he and Ryoma could only concentrate on returning each serve, as they were both at their limits.
It was a lucky win, Ryoma thought now, as he picked his way through the players' locker room after collecting his things. The results would be out later that evening then there was a half-day break until the grand finals started in the afternoon the next day.
Ryoma paused a moment at the door to pull his cap even lower. From the experience of the past few days, there would be reporters and cameramen waiting just outside this door to hound the players of the last match. Ryoma didn't like to deal with reporters, they always asked strange questions that he didn't know how to, and didn't want to, answer. Yet there was no avoiding them, for this was the only entrance to the locker room.
He stepped through to the instant flood of camera flashes and recorders being shoved into his face. He gritted his teeth, which served to keep him from being rude to the reporters and leave them with nothing to report on at the same time. Let them think he was not handy with English; he had a Japanese name for a screen after all.
The only good thing about the media was that his friends and family back in Japan could watch him as he fought for greater glory on the courts. And, also, the cameras placed around the courts were the only ones that didn't come with faceless reporters shoving microphones in his face.
He waded his way through the throng of excitable media workers and soon left them lagging behind, waiting to corner his opponent.
Being shorter than everyone else meant he could very effectively hide under his cap. Being Japanese by birth meant that those reporters tended to look elsewhere for juicy stories to report after facing his silence for a while.
Heaving an inward sigh, Ryoma continued his journey out of the complex dedicated for the event. Leaving the building still left him with the assorted tents and colorful stands gathered outside to contend with. Those had seemingly sprouted overnight at all entrances to the building; he would akin them to mushrooms, but he doubted any natural fungus grew this quickly. Kevin had brought him here the day before the first match, and he had seen with his own eyes how empty the surrounding area was. But the next morning he had trouble finding his way from the outskirts of the colorful new town to the main building.
As he lazily strolled among the stands, one particular stall caught his eye. The stallholder was selling a wide assortment of objects with Tennis as the connecting theme. There were unusually colored tennis balls, miniature tennis rackets, key chains, bags, caps and T-shirts, and some small ornaments which curiosity had Ryoma stopping to look.
Among the small and messy display, he spotted a pair of luminous green rubber bands, each dangling a pair of fuzzy puffs made to look like tennis balls. The color was eye-catching, he decided, but too … icky, he shuddered inwardly as he shifted his gaze elsewhere.
Then he saw it. A small metal hair clip, similar to what Sakuno wore everyday, except hers was shaped like a flower and this one depicted a tiny red tennis racket. He didn't stop to think for long after that; simply asked the stallholder for the price and paid up.
Less than a minute later, he was the proud, embarrassed and a little confused, owner of tennis racket hair clip. Embarrassed because the kindly old man behind the stall had asked in a friendly tone if he was buying it for his girlfriend. Confused because, hey what boy wouldn't be after buying a girls' accessory?
Ryoma tucked the little package into his pocket and hurried back to the hotel. He planned to get a lot of rest from now till the next morning to recover from his strenuous match. The competition was becoming more intense; he would rather face it when he was refreshed after a long restful sleep.