coincidence

This is the story of how Echizen Ryoma met Fujioka Haruhi.

No, that's not completely right; this story is more than that. It's the story of multiple meetings, stemming from the very first happenstance but growing into something more. It is the story of a boy and a girl who keep running into each other in the unlikeliest of places.

Is this a comedy? A romance? A tragedy? A drama? Above all, this story is one of chances – note the plural – and that is how it will be laid out.

This is the story of the year Echizen Ryoma met Fujioka Haruhi.

Five coincidences.

One fate.

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sometime in early spring, love blooms

.

'I think that my wondrous self should be given priority in such a situation.'

'Hey, you weren't the one that he beat mercilessly to a pulp! I have to overthrow – '

'I wanted to play Echizen-kun though! He's so cool! Though Fuji-kun is cooler, and Marui-kun is the absolute best-'

Ryoma sighed as he sat, tied to a chair. It was completely ridiculous. One moment he had been walking to the sports shop, planning on buying some tennis supplies, and then the next moment he had been bound, gagged, and unceremoniously tossed into a limousine.

And now he sat on a chair on the Hyoutei tennis courts, where the Hyoutei team was arguing on who would get dibs on playing the Echizen Ryoma first.

This had been going on for an hour, and Ryoma was not amused. (He had already informed the Hyoutei team of such many times with rather coarse language, but had given up around the half an hour mark, when his throat started getting hoarse.)

There had to be something Ryoma could say to distract them. Anything.

'Oh look over there, isn't that a limo?' Ryoma pointed feebly at one – no, three – no, five –limousines parked around the school.

'Probably some of Atobe's,' Shishido said uncaringly after a quick glance, though Atobe had a thoughtful frown on his face.

And then seven bright purple coaches had driven into the school's parking lot, with the words 'Ouran High School' emblazoned on the side.

'Well, those definitely aren't Atobe's,' Oshitari remarked with a smirk.

Choutarou's mouth formed a small 'o'. 'The Ouran students are supposed to be visiting Hyoutei today!' At this, Choutarou headed for the boys' change room, obviously wanting to avoid any conflict, with Shishido following.

'Shouldn't you have thought about that before kidnapping me?' Ryoma grumbled. He twisted his arms tentatively, but no luck. They were bound tight.

Ryoma watched with a bit of fascination as he saw people getting off the coaches, dressed in smart blue suits and puffy yellow dresses. They were all standing in neat little cliques, though there was one group of seven that stood a bit farther out from the rest.

Actually, the group of seven wasn't standing farther out.

It was moving farther out.

And actually, it was moving towards the tennis courts.

And said group was not dressed in smart blue suits and puffy yellow dresses like all the other cliques. The group of seven were dressed in outfits that looked distinctly like sport wear – could they be fellow athletes? (And was that a tennis racquet that he spotted?)

Fellow athletes would understand Ryoma's predicament.

Fellow athletes would perhaps, save Ryoma from the clutches of the Hyoutei tennis team, which was undeniably unstable. (It wasn't normal – a Monkey King with an ugly mole, a guy that wore fake glasses, the blond fan boy... the list went on.)

'We can't just let them see Echizen tied up here,' Gakuto said hurriedly. 'Can we, like, hide him beneath the bench?'

Ryoma gave Gakuto such a scathing glare that he immediately took back his suggestion.

The group was approaching at a quicker rate – and Ryoma could see that two of them were quite visibly shorter than the others – and decided that these two were the ones that Ryoma would call out to (as fellow short people would hopefully be more understanding and less mocking of his... dilemma).

'Over here!' Ryoma shouted, immediately flushing – he didn't like asking for help, but such a situation warranted it. 'You people wearing sportsh mmph...'

'What do you think you're doing?' Atobe hissed, as Kabaji held his large hand over Ryoma's mouth. (There was something strange about Kabaji too – he was way too large to be a junior high student.) Kabaji didn't let go even after Ryoma bit his hand.

But it was too late – the Ouran septet had arrived.

'Haruhi, Haruhi, look at them!'

Ryoma blinked. One of the students, a blond one, was pointing a finger at them in a strange sort of enthralment. 'Aren't those commoner uniforms just adorable?'

Atobe's face turned a very uncomplimentary shade of purple. 'C-Commoner?' he spluttered, but the tall blond didn't seem to have noticed. Kabaji let go of Ryoma and hurried to Atobe's side, in case he fainted.

'Takashi, I think that boy's tied up.' A short blond boy spoke up, talking to another dark-haired boy who simply nodded in reply.

An intelligent one! Ryoma breathed a sigh of relief and almost smiled at the boy who was even shorter than him – but then he continued to say in a cheerful voice, 'He looks so cute!'

And suddenly, he found two pairs of arms encircling him.

'What do you think you're doing with our Echizen?' Atobe demanded, face an even darker purple now.

'Your Echizen?' the owner of one pair of arms said.

The other than added, 'Can't see your name on him, actually... Though we could check.' The word 'check' was emphasised in a way that made Ryoma shiver, even in the heat of the sun.

And then the two of them together. 'But we suppose we can let you keep him – since we've already got a toy of our own.'

Unravelling their arms, the two people who had been hugging Ryoma returned to their group, so Ryoma could see their orange hair and devilish grins.

'Hikaru, Kaoru,' the second shortest of the Ouran students rebuked, 'don't bother other people.'

'But Haruhiiiii...' The two pouted.

'Mother, can we get some uniforms like these too?' The taller blond twit was speaking again, this time to a very male, very un-motherly bespectacled boy.

The boy with glasses sighed, and turned to the Hyoutei team. 'We're sorry,' he said, his voice the quintessence of repentance, 'to have disturbed your ... practice.' He flashed them a charming smile. 'We'll be on our way – '

'But Mother, I really want to see them play!' It seemed that Ryoma hadn't misheard the first time – the blond had really said 'mother' ... which was rather odd.

The bespectacled boy sighed again. Giving them an apologetic smile, he asked, 'Could you indulge us with a game?'

Atobe beamed at this proposal. 'Of course,' he replied, arrogance dripping from his words. 'Come now, Echizen, let's play a game of tennis.'

'How do you expect me to play,' Ryoma growled, 'if you've tied me to a chair?'

Before the silence could grow awkward, there was a welcome interruption. 'Eh? Kyouya-san?' Choutarou, upon returning, looked a bit surprised to see the boy with the glasses. 'It's nice to see you again, though it's a bit unexpected.'

Shishido stared as well. 'You're ... you're Choutarou's cousin, right?'

The boy named Kyouya nodded. 'My name is Ohtori Kyouya,' he replied, addressing the rest of the Hyoutei team plus Ryoma. 'It's nice to meet you.'

'Ohtori Kyouya?' Oshitari asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Indeed, Oshitari-kun.'

There was a pregnant pause as everybody turned to Kyouya, wondering why the hell he knew Oshitari's name.

'I have a few connections,' Kyouya explained vaguely. 'And ... shall you be starting this game of yours? Tamaki won't leave otherwise.' The last sentence was said a bit more quietly than the rest of his little speech, and also a bit more murderously. Everybody shuddered slightly upon hearing it.

But when they all turned to look at Echizen Ryoma, the one whom Atobe was supposed to be playing, they found that he had disappeared.

.

Ryoma was much more than a tad confused when he and the boy named Haruhi had slowed to a stop a little ways away from the Hyoutei tennis courts, not that there was really much slowing down. Haruhi was a rather slow runner, it seemed – if his running could even be called that.

'They'll probably end up arguing or doing something stupid,' the boy said uncaringly, 'so I think you'll be fine here.'

'How'd you get me out of those knots?' Ryoma asked, curious.

The boy shrugged. 'I'm more than used to those already – and it's a lot easier to untie somebody else's knots than to untie your own.'

Ryoma didn't bother asking why the boy was used to untying knots – he didn't really want to know. 'Thank you,' he said grudgingly – he didn't really want to admit that he'd needed help from this boy who was only two or so inches taller than himself.

'You're welcome,' the boy replied, a small smile appearing on his face that changed the boy's previously indifferent expression entirely.

'You'll be fine now, right?' the boy asked, letting go of Ryoma's hand – which Ryoma hadn't realised the boy was holding. Ryoma barely managed a nod before the boy named Haruhi ran off.

And Ryoma noticed, to his horror, that he was blushing quite furiously.

He lay down on the ground, closing his eyes and letting his thoughts drift.

Haruhi.

What a nice name...

Albeit a bit girly.

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come outside; summer beckons!

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Stupid old man. Who would force their only son to go grocery shopping on a Sunday afternoon, during summer break? It wasn't like Ryoma even cared that there were sales going on at the supermarket anyway, and why couldn't his mum go instead of him?

But Ryoma was at the supermarket anyway, a boy in the second year of junior high, amidst mothers with children asking 'Mummy, can I have that?' and whining until their mothers put the candy they wanted into the grocery basket.

Stupid kids. Stupid mothers. Stupid old man. Argh.

There was no other junior high school student in sight, at least – Ryoma would never live it down if somebody he knew caught sight of him at a supermarket. Echizen Ryoma, tennis prodigy, goes grocery shopping on Sunday afternoons? Yeah, he'd never live it -

'Excuse me, but-'

'What? Can't you see I'm...' Ryoma interrupted rudely, turning away from the rows upon rows of canned food to look at the person who had cut short his thoughts, only to have his voice taper off when he saw who had spoken.

It was his hero.

Wait, stop, that sounded way too girly and lame and just wrong. It was the guy who had saved him from the Hyoutei – no, the guy who had taken him away from – no, that sounded lame too. It was the guy he had met at Hyoutei a few months ago. There. That was gender-neutral.

The young man in front of him smiled, and it was like the sun had come out – Ryoma had to look away because the guy was beaming. (No, it wasn't because of the flush on his cheeks. Shut up.)

'You're the boy from Hyoutei, right?' the brunet asked. He was dressed in a very spiffy blue school uniform, which was weird – hadn't his school let out yet? The whole uniform simplyscreamed money, though that didn't make much sense. Ryoma didn't think rich people even bought their own groceries. (He was, of course, basing his comments on Atobe Keigo, rich boy extraordinaire – Ryoma didn't think Atobe had ever even stepped in a supermarket before, let alone shopped in one.)

However, getting his thoughts back on track Ryoma nodded in reply, not bothering to explain that no, he didn't go to Hyoutei, since Hyoutei was for rich freaks and Atobe's fan girls. 'And you're Haruhi.'

The boy named Haruhi looked a bit confused for a moment, and then smiled again. 'I didn't think I had introduced myself. But yes, I'm Fujioka Haruhi. And you?'

'Echizen Ryoma.'

'Ah, it's nice to meet you.'

And the two stood in silence for a bit, neither having anything to say. On Haruhi's part, he looked perfectly content with the quietness, but Ryoma couldn't help but squirm inwardly at how awkward it was. At least, he thought it was awkward – Haruhi's expression would indicate otherwise.

He had to think of something to say to fill up the silence. 'So what did you want to ask me?' Ryoma asked, feeling dumb even as he said it.

'Oh,' Haruhi replied, far-too-big brown eyes blinking, 'I was going to ask if I could take a few of the coupons that you have.' His gaze flickered to the coupons in Ryoma's left hand (his right hand was holding the grocery basket that was currently full of magazines that were barely on this side of appropriate – Ryoma hoped that the other boy couldn't see them) and then back at Ryoma again. 'I forgot mine at home, and if you have any extra... I'm sorry for the inconvenience. The cashier said that there were none left, so...' His voice trailed off, but on his face was a hopeful smile.

'Sure,' Ryoma said distractedly, looking away from Haruhi again. He shoved his left hand in the general direction of Haruhi. 'Take them all.'

'Really?' Haruhi's tone was far too happy. It was almost embarrassing. 'Thank you!' He laughed. 'I'm so glad that I met you here, Ryoma-kun – I would have paid eight hundred yen or so more if I didn't have coupons.'

Eight hundred yen? Ryoma stared at Haruhi in slight disbelief – did he calculate that in his head? And did he just call him 'Ryoma-kun'? However, before Ryoma could express his thoughts, Haruhi cocked his head.' You sure you don't mind?'

'Yeah,' Ryoma said, nodding once. Then twice. Then thrice. 'I'll go, uh, buy my groceries now.'

Haruhi thanked him again, smiling widely. Ryoma started to walk out of the aisle, when Haruhi placed a hand on his arm. 'Oh, please wait. Do you have a mobile?'

Not sure of why there was such a sudden change in topic, Ryoma nodded anyway, taking it out of his pocket without thinking. 'Why?'

'Let me give you my contact information,' Haruhi responded, pulling out his own mobile as well. 'Whenever you need me to return the favour, just call, okay?' He smiled (he seemed to do this a lot) as he flipped the mobile open.

Ryoma flipped open his own mobile dumbly and stood, bemused, as his contact information was shared with Haruhi and vice versa via infrared. He really wasn't sure what to make of this new development.

'Ryoma-kun?' Haruhi's voice brought Ryoma back to the present. 'Call whenever, okay? Or text. Just any time you need help with anything – your coupons really are a help.'

With that, Fujioka Haruhi went on his way, leaving Echizen Ryoma a little bewildered but more than a little bit pleased.

.

'Oi, brat, what are you looking at your mobile phone for?'

'Shut up, you perverted old man!' Ryoma glared at his father, who was leaning very casually on the doorframe of his room. 'Can't you leave me alone? You made me buy the groceries and your "magazines" – the cashier looked at me like I was some sort of delinquent!' Ryoma was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his mobile phone in his hand. He was now very pointedly looking away from it.

'Wouldn't be too far off the mark,' Echizen Nanjiroh replied with a few chuckles. 'But really.' He raised an eyebrow. 'What are you staring at your mobile phone for? Waiting for a pretty girl to call you?' And now his father was waggling his eyebrows at him. It was one of the creepiest things Ryoma had ever had to experience.

Ryoma muttered in an oh-so-convincing tone, 'I'm not staring at my mobile phone.' While his father just chortled at this, he left Ryoma alone to continue not-staring at his phone.

Fujioka Haruhi's phone number was not-staring right back at him.

The name was just there in his list of contacts – Fujioka Haruhi. It didn't fit in. All of the other people in his contact list were either family, or people he knew from a) school, b) tennis, or c) school and tennis.

He threw his phone onto his bed forcefully, grumbling inwardly about how stupid this was. He had homework to do. Tennis to play. Ponta to drink. So what was he doing just sitting on his bed with his phone?

Then, just to make sure the mobile hadn't broken or anything, Ryoma picked it up again – he hadn't even flipped it shut before throwing it. He quickly looked at the screen – Fujioka Haruhi's name was still there, bright and clear. He pushed a button to get the phone back to the home menu, but it wouldn't budge – the phone seemed to have frozen.

Just what he needed, really. Ryoma threw his phone back onto his bed with a scowl and getting off his bed as well. He just needed to get out. Play some tennis at the street courts or something – somebody he knew was bound to be there, and playing tennis was better than moping about at home anyway.

However, before leaving, he picked the phone back up and stowed it carefully in his pants pocket.

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october, with its changing leaves

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Fate had to be in play.

Why else would he, of all people, be standing just off the courts?

Ryoma was at the school courts, and was severely regretting coming to school at all for the special weekend practice. 'Come on, Echizen, doubles is fun!' had been Momoshiro's very unconvincing argument, but Kaidoh had had the final say.

Since the loss of their seniors from the year before, the team was a bit lacking. The team now consisted of Kaidoh, Momo, Arai, Echizen, Katsuo, Kachiro, and surprisingly enough, Horio, who had actually gotten better under the strict regime that was Kaidoh's captainship. Katsuo and Kachiro were their new Doubles 2, with Kaidoh and Momo usually being their Doubles 1, but the team was nowhere near as strong as it was last year, so Kaidoh was testing different combinations.

For some reason the first time that Ryoma and Momo had tried to play doubles hadn't stuck in Kaidoh's memory well enough, so they were trying it again.

And now he had just humiliated himself, beaten by the Katsuo and Kachiro pair 6-1, in front of Fujioka Haruhi, whom he hadn't seen since summer. He seemed to have a way of showing up at the timeliest moments.

Pushing down the bill of the hat, he really hoped that he hadn't recognised him.

'Hey, Echizen! Better luck next time!' Arai shouted from the side-lines, smirking. The rest of the regulars were also there – Horio was talking about something or another as always, and Kaidoh was now lecturing Katsuo and Kachiro about things they could do better. And, turning to Haruhi (why the hell was he standing next to him?) he asked, 'Can you believe that this guy is considered one of the best players in Japan?'

Before Ryoma could say anything or run as far away as he could, Haruhi smiled and greeted him serenely, looking perfectly comfortable in his long-sleeved school uniform. 'Hello, Ryoma-kun.'

And then there was chaos.

'Wait! Ryoma-kun, you know him?'

'You have friends outside of tennis?'

'How do you know Haruhi, Echizen?'

Ryoma opened his mouth to reply, only to shut it when Haruhi spoke up. 'We're friends,' he said simply.

But this only brought up more questions.

'Echizen has friends? Besides us, I mean!'

'How did you meet this guy?'

'Ryoma-kun, when'd this happen?'

Ryoma really had to get more of a social life if all of his teammates were so shocked to hear about him having a friend outside of tennis.

'I met Fujioka earlier this year, when I went to Hyoutei.' The shortest of the regulars turned a stony gaze towards Arai. 'How about you?'

Arai patted Haruhi on the shoulder very casually. 'We're friends. Haruhi used to be my older brother's classmate, and we ran into each other outside. Since we hadn't met for a while, we were catching up.'

Wow, coincidences were really everywhere. For somebody Ryoma had run into randomly be the classmate of Arai's older brother – wait. 'Older brother?'

'Yeah.' Arai laughed. 'Haruhi's in the second year of high school, you know.'

Ryoma blinked.

And blinked again.

If Haruhi was in the second year of high school, that would mean that he was a whole three years older than him.

'You're a bit short to be in high school, aren't you?' Ryoma finally asked, recomposing himself. It wasn't a bit deal, really. Why would it be?

The brunet nodded, with a quiet chuckle. 'I know I look a bit younger than my age.' His smile was that of somebody who was hinting at something but not quite saying it, as he tugged on the cuff of his male uniform.

Ryoma should have realised though – the limos had had Ouran High School emblazoned on them, but –

Haruhi was in high school. For some reason, that thought made Ryoma feel very uncomfortable.

But really, why did it matter? Why was Ryoma so bothered anyway? It wasn't as if it was the end of the world.

He'd be a high school student himself in a couple of years...

...but by that time Haruhi would be in university.

Damn, he had to stop thinking about things that didn't matter (or rather, things that weren't tennis). Bad things happened when Ryoma got too fixated on things that weren't tennis.

'Echizen? You still there?' The capped boy noticed a hand waving in front of his face – Momo's.

'What?' He irritably swatted the hand away.

Momo frowned, surprised by his underclassman's tetchiness. 'No need to get so angry! I just asked you a question.'

'A question?'

'Fujioka invited us to his culture festival – apparently, it's in two weeks. And – ' here Momo leant close to Ryoma's ear and lowered his voice ' – apparently there are a lot of cute girls at his school!'

'Stupid Momo-senpai!' Ryoma immediately pushed Momo away, glowering at him. Why was he saying such idiotic things? 'As if I care about that!' Even as he said this, Ryoma's eyes drifted towards Haruhi to see if he was listening.

And he wasn't. He was busy talking to Kaidoh (or rather, at Kaidoh) about ... cooking, strangely enough. Kaidoh looked interested at least.

Why did he care whether or not Haruhi was listening anyway?

'So, you coming?' Momo asked, shaking Ryoma out of his thoughts.

'Yes,' Ryoma replied quickly – a bit too quickly, because it made Momo start talking again. Dammit.

'What? Echizen actually agreeing to go someplace without any promise of free food?' Momo stared at Haruhi with scrutiny. 'Fujioka, you've got to be a saint or something.'

'Yeah,' Kachiro interrupted with a wide smile. 'Usually Momo-chan-fukubuchou has to agree to pay for burgers before he can get Ryoma-kun to go with him.' Katsuo and Horio nodded in agreement.

Ryoma thought that his fellow regulars' words were a rather bad representation of his character, and so tried to rectify them. 'That's not – '

'It's okay, Ryoma-kun,' Haruhi interrupted with that beaming smile that he had. 'I promise you won't have to pay if you come.'

Though he then muttered under his breath, expression dark, 'Kyouya-senpai would love an excuse to add to my debt anyway.'

Ryoma was about to ask, 'Who?' when Haruhi just waved his hand. 'Don't worry about it,' he responded, the cheery countenance back on his face. 'I have a lot of free tickets.' To prove it, he pulled a thick stack of bills out of his pocket.

Taking a quarter of the tickets, Haruhi passed them to Arai. 'I have to go to the supermarket now, so please split these.'

'I hope this counts as returning the favour, Ryoma-kun!' was the last thing the high school student said before leaving. Ryoma was too dumbstruck by the very strange occurrence to answer.

'Favour? Echizen, what's Haruhi talking about?'

'So, where's this culture festival anyway?'

'Ouran High, Momo-chan-fukubuchou – that's what it says on the ticket.'

.

By some mysterious means, Ryoma had ended up with a ticket for the Ouran High School culture festival in his hand. Though practice was over, he was still standing on school grounds, just off the court. The rest of the team had already gone home, and the sun was setting, illuminating the horizon in a palette of reds and oranges.

He'd never gone to a culture festival, not even for Seigaku – he'd managed to weasel out of participating in the boys' tennis club event and the one for his class. There weren't any culture festivals in America, so this would be the first one he ever attended.

It seemed that Fujioka Haruhi always came with a lot of firsts for Ryoma.

He put the ticket carefully into his jersey so that it wouldn't fold down the middle, but not before checking the date of the festival, and resolving to set his alarm clock extra early the night before.

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a nippy nap in november

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Something felt a little bit off.

Ryoma looked at the massive high school in front of him – really, it was more of a campus, with multiple buildings and statues and what appeared to be coaches with real, living horses drawing into the driveway. There were throngs of people outside the main entrance, with all of them dressed in evening wear that probably cost a fortune.

Probably several fortunes, actually.

Somehow, his Seigaku uniform felt a little inadequate now.

'...Momo-chan-senpai,' he asked in a low voice, 'are culture festivals usually like this?' He turned to look at his vice-captain, who had biked them there, but he looked too shell-shocked to reply. Momo was wearing his Seigaku uniform too, at least, so Ryoma wouldn't look too out of place.

Momo's shock meant that this scene was definitely abnormal then, and all of a sudden, Ryoma pondered over how much he didn't know about Fujioka Haruhi.

'Echizen, your friend's got to be insanely rich,' somebody piped up from behind them. Ryoma turned (though Momo, who was still stunned, didn't) to see Horio, along with Katsuo and Kachiro. 'Ouran's famous for having students that are both prestigious and wealthy.'

'Since when do you know the word prestigious, Horio-kun?' Katsuo asked teasingly, while Kachiro chuckled a bit. Horio spluttered and argued the point, but Ryoma's mind was elsewhere.

Prestigious and wealthy? It didn't add up. The second time Ryoma'd met Haruhi, they'd been at the supermarket and he'd asked him for coupons. Rich people wouldn't need coupons, would they? Would they even shop in a supermarket? Ryoma thought of the richest person he knew (and also the most arrogant), and decided, no – Monkey King would definitely not step foot into a supermarket. Too common for him, probably.

Atobe Keigo probably didn't even know about the existence of coupons.

That said, what was Fujioka Haruhi doing in a place like this?

'Echizen, are you coming or not?'

That was said by Momo, who had apparently gotten over his surprise and was grinning already. He added, 'They've probably got some sweet stalls at a culture festival like this!' The rest of the team had converged as well while Ryoma had been thinking – Kaidoh and Arai had arrived, the former frowning and the latter smirking – and they'd already started heading down the very long walkway to the front of the school.

'So Echizen,' Momo asked, grinning in a way that was probably completely innocent even if Ryoma didn't think so, 'how did you meet this Fujioka anyway?'

'That's – '

He was saved from having to answer when Momo walked right into the second-year trio. Echizen looked at what his team was looking at, and then promptly looked away because if what he saw was actually what he saw, all he wanted to do was push down the bill of his cap and turn around.

'Does that banner actually say "WELCOME, COMMONERS"?' Arai asked, sounding incredulous.

'Do you think that's referring to us?' Kachiro whispered.

'Well, it's in our school colours. Plus it says SEISHUN GAKUEN TENNIS TEAM underneath.' Katsuo looked like he was deciding whether or not to just run back home. Ryoma was definitely with him if he decided to flee.

'Oh, you've got to be kidding,' Momo exclaimed. Before Ryoma could open his mouth to agree, Momo continued, 'I can't believe they set up a welcome for us!'

And then Momo started jogging forward to the banner, grinning from cheek to cheek, while the rest of the team members looked at their vice-captain in something akin to mortification.

Kaidoh hissed in annoyance. 'We can't just let the idiot go by himself,' he muttered, and then he too started jogging to catch up to Momo. Of course, Momo had to turn this into a race, and soon the two had sprinted far ahead, leaving their underclassmen plus Arai behind them.

'I guess we should go too,' Kachiro said with a smile that looked a bit forced. 'It does say "tennis team" on the banner, so...'

Ryoma pushed the bill of his cap down, and wondered if it wouldn't have been better if he'd just stayed in America as he walked along with the rest of the team like prisoners to a firing squad.

There was no time for him to take an express flight back to the United States, however, since their welcoming party had caught sight of them.

'Oh beloved acquaintances of Haruhi! Welcome to the land of the wealthy!' A blonde young woman was standing on a podium, arms spread out – her voice and face were familiar but somehow –

Wait.

The last time Ryoma had seen this person, she had been decidedly male.

And so had the young women (?) beside her or him. All of the previously male Ouran students whom Ryoma had seen at Hyoutei were now bedecked in frills and wigs – at least, Ryoma thought they were wigs, though since they were rich maybe they were just really amazing extensions – and was that lipstick?

What kind of company was Haruhi keeping? And where was he, anyway? Since the rest of his friends were here, though Ryoma noticed that two of them looked a little bit different – or well, the really short one had gotten taller while the really tall one had gotten shorter. Did they have some secret height augmentation/reduction techniques too?

Ryoma's question (about Haruhi; not the height alteration) was soon answered by a carriage rolling up the pavement, drawn by white horses that looked like they had never touched a speck of dirt before. The windows were open, revealing Haruhi's smiling visage, Ryoma opened his mouth to call out, only to find his voice caught in his throat when Haruhi stepped out of the carriage –

– in a floor-length ballroom dress, with long black hair that went to his waist, and Ryoma would sooner swallow his favourite pair of tennis shoes than say what was on his mind at that very moment.

Should he call out? Should he say something? Anything? Was Haruhi in some sort of strange cross-dressing club? He had half made up his mind to call out when a whole slew of high-pitched voices did it for him.

'HARUHI~KUN!'

And then Haruhi was enveloped by a crowd of squealing girls dressed just as beautifully as he was.

'Haruhi-kun, you look so good in a dress!'

'Long hair looks wonderful on you, Haruhi-kun!'

'Like a Japanese princess in Western dress!'

'Haruhi-kun!'

'Haruhi-kun!'

'Haruhi-kun!'

And Haruhi seemed completely at ease with all the attention he was receiving, accepting the compliments in stride. 'Ah, thank you – ' a polite but slightly self-conscious smile ' – but I don't look nearly as stunning as any one of you.'

At that moment, Ryoma could probably have stripped nude in front of any one of the girls and they still wouldn't have noticed him, all of them captivated by Haruhi's effortless charisma.

All the while, the blond(e?) had been talking to the rest of Seigaku's tennis team about something or another, but Ryoma's eyes were still on Haruhi, who was making his way through the gaggle of girls, delighting each young woman with one courteous comment or another.

'Whoa, he's really popular, isn't he?'

Ryoma was jolted out of his thoughts by Momo, who had placed an arm over Ryoma's shoulder. 'You jealous or something?' his vice-captain teased. 'Maybe if you grow a little taller first.'

He ducked out from Momo's grip, scowling, but kept his eyes on Haruhi. He really was popular – none of the girls around him could look away. There were a lot of them too, all of them saying sweet things and making Haruhi's smile even sweeter.

Haruhi could be dating any one of them, and nobody would blink an eye.

What was Echizen Ryoma, the Prince of Tennis, junior high student, doing here in the court of a high school king?

'Don't worry about it too much, Echizen – you have your own fan club anyway,' Momo said hurriedly, apparently mistaking Ryoma's silence as jealousy. Or well, it might have been jealousy, but of a different kind.

It was at this moment that his and Haruhi's eyes met, and Ryoma still could not look away. 'Ryoma-kun?' The smile on Haruhi's face had turned into a small, surprised moue.

Ryoma ran.

.

What was it about Fujioka Haruhi?

Echizen Ryoma wasn't – this. He was nonchalant and a bit insolent but still respectful towards his upperclassmen. He was a tennis ace who would play tennis even if he was half blind and bleeding. His English was fantastic and his other grades weren't so bad either. Frankly, he thought rather highly of himself and he thought other people should too.

What was it about Haruhi that turned Ryoma into someone who ran instead of standing his ground?

He needed to cool his head.

.

.

.

and with winter just around the corner...

.

There was an unread message on Ryoma's phone.

It was from Haruhi.

He hadn't replied.

It had already been three days.

Ryoma knew exactly how pathetic he was acting. He was Echizen Ryoma. A cocky brat who could face Rikkai's tennis team and come out victorious. A boy who could stand up even in the face of all of Atobe Keigo's ridiculous but earned pride because he had enough to be proud of himself. The Prince of Tennis who was not afraid of anything except, apparently, Fujioka Haruhi in a dress.

He was being ridiculous. Kaidoh had actually kicked him out of practice after putting up with his terrible play for two days, and Ryoma knew Kaidoh was right but had still gotten stroppy and now he would have to head into practice tomorrow and run laps because he would rather do that than apologise.

Being arrogant had its drawbacks, especially in situations like this where he couldn't be arrogant at all.

Instead of going home, he had been wandering around. He'd reduced six people to tears after ruthlessly beating them on various street courts, and now it was late and everyone had left, either because they thought it was late too or because the tale of Echizen Ryoma terrorising the villagers had gotten around. Since there was nobody left to play him, Ryoma was heading home, but he was still feeling out of sorts.

Haruhi had looked like he was really enjoying being surrounded by his schoolmates.

His very beautiful, very female schoolmates.

Ryoma took his racquet out of its case, as well as a tennis ball, intent on hitting something very hard with it until he felt better, only to be distracted by a commotion in front of him. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to stand between him and his home when he was in such a terrible mood?

'Hey, would you like to go out with us?' There were three people – two guys and a girl, from the silhouettes. Ryoma couldn't see them clearly since the light from the street lamp was coming from behind them.

'But I'm already out.' The girl held up something – a shopping bag? 'See? I'm on my way to the supermarket.'

This seemed to fluster the two young men, who stood without saying anything for a couple of moments. Then: 'Well, wouldn't you like to go somewhere a bit more fun?'

'I think shopping at the supermarket is very fun, actually.' The girl sounded completely serious when she said this, but her words were probably misconstrued as one of her aggressors then backed her up against a wall.

'Hey. You making fun of us?'

That was just too much posturing for Ryoma to take when he had taken it from six other people on the street courts earlier, so he decided to do with these two what he had done with the rest of them.

'Oi.'

And then he threw the tennis ball in his hand high up into the air, hitting it with his racquet straight towards the hand that was splayed out on the wall beside the girl's head.

Of course, it hit the target, and the young man had turned to him, hand springing back like a startled animal.

'What the hell!'

'If you don't get lost, I have more tennis balls in my bag,' Ryoma warned them, as he held out his racquet threateningly. That was enough to scare off the two of them, so Ryoma stowed his racquet away again.

Intent on picking up his tennis ball and then going home without a word to the girl, Ryoma had walked determinedly forward, but then, the girl had spoken up.

'Ryoma-kun?'

And she had stepped back, so that her face was illuminated by the street lamp beside her, and it was obvious that she – he – was Fujioka Haruhi, in a light winter jacket and a skirt that went down to his knees.

'So it is you!' Haruhi said, smile lit up by artificial lighting. 'Isn't it a bit late for you to be out?'

'I was just playing some tennis,' he muttered, crouching down to grab his tennis ball in order to avoid looking at Haruhi. Why was he wearing a dress? Hadn't that just been for his club activities?

'Well, thank you anyway,' Haruhi replied, and Ryoma made the mistake of looking up and saw Haruhi looking back at him with a smile at least on the level of Fuji Shusuke. 'You were pretty cool just now, Ryoma-kun.'

Ryoma had to look back down, because he was pretty sure his cheeks were on fire.

'It's a stroke of good luck though, Ryoma-kun, since I had something I wanted to talk to you about anyway. You haven't called me, even though I had sent you a message to tell you. Is anything wrong?'

Yes, Ryoma wanted to say. I'd like to know what the hell kind of club you're in and why every time we meet up I feel like my cap's stuck in my throat.

'Is this about my club activities?' Haruhi asked, still smiling. 'It's probably not what you were expecting.'

No, Ryoma hadn't expected Haruhi to be in a cross-dressing club, but that definitely wasn't something he was going to say either.

What he said instead was, 'Well, I think you make a very – ' pretty ' – convincing girl.'

Haruhi blinked.

'Well, I am one.'

And it was Ryoma's turn to blink back, because –

What?

'Didn't you know, Ryoma-kun? Though I guess I do look a lot like a boy most of the time; I wear a boy's uniform to school, after all.' She took her wallet out and flipped it open, and there it was, plain as day.

A photo of a girl with long brown hair, smiling at the viewer.

Name: Fujioka Haruhi

Sex: Female

Flabbergasted: Echizen Ryoma

'Wait.' Ryoma didn't understand. 'So. Your club. It's not some sort of cross-dressing club?' Actually, that wasn't what Ryoma wanted the answer to but he probably wouldn't have been able to put words to his inner turmoil unless he was given an hour to prepare and some form of visual aid. Like a picture slideshow.

Haruhi smiled as she put her wallet away, though Ryoma really did not see what there was to smile about. 'Well, it's actually a... Well, it's not a cross-dressing club, though we were cross-dressing for the culture festival. At school I'm pretending to be a male student so when you saw me a couple days ago, I was cross-dressing as a boy cross-dressing as a girl.'

That was one too many cross-dressings for Ryoma to grasp. 'Why?' he said finally, leaving his question unfinished.

'There are...' Haruhi's voice trailed off. 'Circumstances that make it necessary for me to be in my club.' His smile was a bit wry – her smile, Ryoma reminded himself, even if he couldn't really believe it yet.

'Fujioka,' Ryoma began, though he didn't know where the rest of his sentence was going. 'There's something I – '

Only to be interrupted by Haruhi, who was looking at her mobile. 'Ah, sorry, Ryoma-kun, but I have to hurry. The supermarket will close soon, and I need to buy a few things for tomorrow. Let's talk the next time we run into each other, okay?' She waved, and then she was off.

Ryoma was still crouching under the light of the streetlamp as he watched Haruhi until he couldn't see her shadow any longer.

.

Let's talk the next time we run into each other, okay?

When would that be? Ryoma had run into Haruhi by chance quite a few times already, always in ridiculous circumstances. It could be any time from next week to next year. It wasn't as if they had anything in common at all – Ryoma went to Seigaku, while Haruhi went to Ouran. Ryoma was in the second year of middle school while Haruhi was leagues away in the second year of high school. Ryoma was in the tennis club, while Haruhi was in ... some club or another. In any case, the chance of them meeting again was low, even if they had already met so often.

Chances were, they might never run into each other again at all.

Ryoma realised that he was clenching the tennis ball in his hand so tightly that his knuckles were white.

To never meet Haruhi again...

Ryoma ran.

.

.

.

last night, first snow

.

'Fujioka!' he yelled, running in the direction that Haruhi had left in.

Then:

'Haruhi!'

He ran, as fast as he could, and soon spotted Haruhi's retreating figure. She was still walking though, so he yelled out again.

'Haruhi!'

And then Haruhi turned around, standing in a circle of lamplight.

'Ryoma-kun?'

He ran right up to the edge of the light, and halted, a mere metre from Haruhi. That metre might as well have been the distance from the Earth to the moon, because both were just as equally hard for Ryoma to cross.

He probably had more chance with the moon.

'I have something I want to say.' Something he wanted to say. That could have been anything from 'The weather is nice, isn't it?' to 'You've still got a ways to go' so starting off like this was definitely good.

'What is it?' Haruhi was smiling, but in a bemused way.

'You're really a girl,' he said, which wasn't exactly the brightest way to continue.

Haruhi didn't look at him like he was dumb or strange though, just nodding. 'Yes.' She was looking at Ryoma though, as if to say, 'And your point is?'

'But you enjoy the attention of other girls.' And here was Ryoma, the Prince of Stating the Obvious.

'Yes,' Haruhi said again, nodding once more. She stated it matter-of-factly, like how somebody would answer if they were asked if they brushed their teeth this morning or whether or not they had fingernails.

'...What about boys?'

'What about them?'

Haruhi was smiling at him in the same slightly perplexed manner, and Ryoma didn't know what to say in the face of such –

– such –

'Oh! Ryoma-kun, look!'

Haruhi had her head tilted up towards the night sky, her brown eyes bright, her cheeks a bit pink, her lips pointed up at the edges. Her short hair framed her face like a candid photograph.

'It's snowing!'

And it was snowing – faint, indistinct flakes of white, but all Ryoma could look at was Haruhi staring up at the sky like it was the most wonderful thing in the world, and before he knew it, Ryoma had reached out towards her, his fingers outstretched.

'Ryoma-kun?'

And his hand hung there between them, frozen. What on earth was he doing?

'We have nothing in common,' he said, voicing his thoughts aloud. 'We go to different schools, and even if we went to the same school, we'd be in different sections. And we have different interests.

Haruhi said nothing, staring at him with eyes that were unreasonably large.

'I barely know anything about you. And you don't know anything about me either.' He definitely wasn't just the boy who seemed to stop functioning like a proper human being every time Fujioka Haruhi showed up – Ryoma was so much more than that, and Haruhi, too, was probably far more than the girl who dressed as a boy and liked shopping at the supermarket.

Then she spoke up.

'Fujioka Haruhi.'

A beat.

'What?' What about him? Ryoma could have said. What about her? What about you? But he waited.

Haruhi continued:

'Fujioka Haruhi. Second-year scholarship student at Ouran High School. I'm part of the Ouran High School Host Club because I broke a vase worth eight million yen. I like cooking and I want to be a lawyer.

'Now you know more about me.' She stuck her hand out, taking Ryoma's hand in her own and giving it a firm shake. The same way businessmen did back in America. 'It's nice to meet you. Now you return the favour, Ryoma-kun.'

'But that's – ' Not how you get to know people, Ryoma wanted to say. That wasn't how things worked – even Ryoma knew that, and his decorum handbook was definitely missing a couple of pages. Haruhi was still staring at him though, so what he said instead was this:

'... Echizen Ryoma. Second-year at Seigaku, and I'm on the tennis team. I like tennis, and I'm going to be a professional tennis player. And ... I have a cat named Karupin.'

Was that enough? He could say that he was actually not very sociable at all – downright irritable, and not a morning person either, and he had a real live catchphrase that he used regularly enough for it to be a catchphrase – but Haruhi was still holding his hand.

Haruhi was still holding his hand.

Ryoma swallowed, swallowed all the words and thoughts bubbling up in his throat and the awkwardness and anxiousness and awkwardness and apprehension and felt like he might throw up as he said –

'Can I go to the supermarket with you?'

Not by coincidence. Not by chance.

A deliberate meeting.

And Haruhi said, 'Sure,' pulling Echizen Ryoma into the light with a smile that could power the world.

They were still holding hands when they got to the supermarket.

For Echizen Ryoma, it was a start.

.

.

.

fin.