A/N: Hey, guys. Told you this chapter would be up quickly. Before I forget again, Houshigawa Aella and Hanako Miyumi from the chapter before are OCs from another fic I wrote called Double Trouble. That one ended a little prematurely, but they're both in this one.

The Hounds Will Stay in Chains

...

"We live in cities you'll never things see on screen

Not very pretty but we sure know how to run free

Living in the ruins of the palace within my dreams

And you know, we're on each other's team…"

…

"Hey." Pressed against the bathroom door, Yukimura heard the sound of water starting from the shower. Meaning, he would be stuck waiting for Sumiko for another thirty minutes. Thing is: because of Sumiko's ankle, he had already been waiting on her since eight, and right now it was eight-thirty. "How long do you need?"

Through the bathroom door, Sumiko's voice answered: "As long as I need."

"Thanks. I have a great idea of how long I'll need to wait now." Eyes turned pleadingly to the ceiling, Yukimura at once groaned and pushed his hand through the back of his tangled hair. He trudged back to his room.

From atop the worrying French assignment, Naoko's flyer offered a frustrating decision as well as an excuse to put off working on his French. Yukimura's chair squeaked as he sighed into it and picked up the flyer, eyes skating over the familiar words and patterns. Doing so unlocked uncomfortable indecision and a squirmy feeling in Yukimura's body.

He thought back to the conversation with Renji. I guess I can go, he tested out. Since he wasn't left with a gaping feeling of wrongness and discomfort, he took this as a sign that he should go.

"Seiichi, can you ask Sumiko if she's going to your tennis thing today?"

Ryoko said loudly.

"Sumiko, are you coming to the Prelims today?" Yukimura said loudly.

"I dunno, who's going?" Sumiko said loudly.

"I can't tell you the names of everybody planning on attending that tournament."

"Do I have to?"

"Honey, you should be there for your brother." This was Ryoko, as loud as before, but with a sharper edge to her voice.

Sumiko ughed, and Yukimura heard it as though she were in the same room.

Although he wasn't sure if this statement what be safe for him to utter, he asked, "So you're going then?"

Sumiko growled. "I guess."

Yukimura looked at the invitation, a smile spreading across his face. "I guess I'm going, too," he said softly.

~x~

Tapping his fingers against his napkin, Sanada inspected the little restaurant claiming itself Paolo's Luncheon Lagoon. He was disgusted because a) the little swamp-themed restaurant was more suited for serving snacks than important daily meals, b) the abysmal decorations resembled none of the characteristics of an actual lagoon, and c) the lagoon part of the name was obviously a blatant attempt at alliteration to make the name more memorable. However, Houshigawa had suggested this place since it was equidistant from where they both lived and close to the tennis tournament.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" A waitress stopped at his window-adjacent table with a small notepad and a fountain pen, looking entirely fed up with the whole waiting-on-customers part of her job. Really, the only part of her job. Upon seeing the yellow-with-black-stripes jacket, she brightened. "I mean, Sanada Genichirou-san."

Sanada said, "I'll be a second."

"Oh, okay." The waitress bobbed her head enthusiastically.

Once she left, Sanada released the breath he hadn't known he was holding and pinched the bridge of his nose. Once Houshigawa arrived, he would persuade her to find another place to eat.

Sanada raised his head and gazed out the window. The sky looked like light blue fabric covered by a sheet of white, wispy translucence. A perfectly adequate day for outdoor activities. Sanada saw Houshigawa walking down the street, her hair still way too long and a satchel on her shoulder. She waved when she spotted his face through the window and jogged the rest of the way.

"Hey, sorry." Houshigawa slid into the seat opposite him. "Did you order without me?"

Sanada shook his head. He hadn't even looked at the menu, too horrified by the restaurant itself to further scare himself with the unorthodox food choices no doubt waiting for him when he picked up the menu.

"Great." Houshigawa rubbed her hands and picked up hers.

Sanada said, "You're late."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

Sanada waited for an excuse. The waitress came and poured them some store-bought tea. Houshigawa sipped hers while contemplating the menu, but Sanada didn't touch his.

"So," Houshigawa said finally, "how's school?" She sounded like an obligatory mother.

Sanada answered, "What does that matter?" He sounded like an anti-social teen.

"How's life?" Houshigawa said.

"This place is not suitable for serving important meals," Sanada stated.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to take that up with the manager," Houshigawa replied.

"We are eating someplace else."

"No thanks."

"I wasn't asking."

"I wasn't open to discussion on the matter."

Sanada set his hands on the table. "We are leaving."

Steepling her fingers, Houshigawa leaned forward, dipped her chin, and peered at him expectantly. "I'll make you a deal. We eat here today, and you can choose the place next time."

Immediately, two thoughts struck Sanada. The first was that there would be a "next time." The second was that he wanted one.

"Fine," he said.

Satisfied with the result, Houshigawa sat back against her seat. She scanned him over, head to toe, right to left, and possibly front to back. Then, she opened her mouth, sucked in a breath, paused, and said, "Today's the Prelims, huh?"

Still a little off-balance from the suspense of that statement, Sanada took a moment to reply and hid it with a smoky cough. "Yeah."

"Are you playing Singles Two?"

Sanada's fingers curled into a fist. High school tennis had been one unpleasant surprise after another. The problem wasn't that Sanada had walked onto the tennis courts expecting to be crowned Emperor, or to immediately become the vice-captain beneath Yukimura Seiichi. He hadn't. The problem was Sanada had not expected to be part of a pool of people to choose from and exchange for as regulars. "Yeah." It sucks.

"Oh." Aella considered this. "Who's Singles One? Yukimura-san?"

"The captain." Sanada had to struggle not to scoff and roll his eyes as he said this. From his observations, Makoto Nobuo seemed like a joke, incapable of leading Rikkai to a victory.

Despite his best efforts, Houshigawa still seemed to sense the disgust in his tone. "I take it, you don't like this guy," she said.

Sanada just waited for her to finish her tea. Then, he shouldered his tennis racquet bag and stood up. "Let's go."

"What?" Houshigawa demanded, hands tightening on the edges of her seat. "I haven't ordered yet. And we made a deal."

He sat down slowly and folded his arms across his chest. "Fine. Order."

Houshigawa smirked at him and began to make a show of taking her sweet time at examining the menu.

Although Sanada would have found this sort of teasing annoying if anyone else had done it, he was okay with this.

~x~

The day of the District Preliminaries arrived without much fanfare. The Friday before, the team practiced a little harder than usual, the school gathered at the fences to help boost morale with their cheers and accolades. "Really, the Prelims are so easy, it wouldn't have mattered even if we skipped today's practice," Makoto had said. Koichi had agreed. This statement was so obvious, disagreeing would have been like disagreeing with gravity and the human instinct to destroy and improve.

The team arrived to hand in the roster fashionably late, though nobody really minded, no matter how much Sanada raved about the negative impression of tardiness and irresponsibility. They signed in and glided onto the tournament grounds, a cloud of black-and-yellow. (Don't come near us unless you want to be stung.) Lining up in front of the other team, anyone would have remarked that the Rikkai boys looked liked conquerors.

Singles Three started.

Jackal stepped onto the court and jerked his opponent around the court for an hour, unintentionally a puppet master. He lost a point to the opponent in his first set. The second set lasted for twenty minutes; Jackal lost two points this time. Before anyone had the time to absorb the match, the referee was announcing, "Singles Three goes to Rikkai Dai's Jackal Kuwahara with a score of 6 – 0, 6 – 0."

The audience on the bleachers roared and stomped their feet, as Jackal made his way off of the court. Head and neck shining with sweat, Jackal gratefully accepted the water and towel Marui offered him. He sat with his head bent and a towel soaking up sweat on his neck.

Doubles Two was starting. "This should be good," the Yukimura said to Sanada and Yanagi. Marui and Niou did not so much have a history as a record for avoiding each other, until one or the other broke it off to pester the other.

They tried out an Australian Formation, and failed when they lost a point that went down the middle. After that, they stuck with a normal formation, with Niou at the baseline and Marui at the net. They were a better pair than the average stranger would have suspected going off of how they behaved off-court. Marui and Niou played without a chink in their armor. Niou controlled his opponents from the baseline, forcing them to feed easy shots, shots that Marui easily crushed from the net.

In the middle of their first set, Jackal had regained his energy enough to stand up. "I'm gonna go for a quick jog," he announced, though nobody was listening over the roar of the crowd and the discordant harmony of how Marui and Niou played. He tucked his hands into his pockets and jogged away from the tennis courts.

He rounded a corner, and another, and swerved in complicated patterns, focusing on the pound of his blood in his head and the steady smack of his feet against pavement. Voices drifted to his ears. "Jackal-kun!" somebody called out. Jackal slowed down and looked to the side. When he saw Nakamura Ayumu and her brother, he stopped completely.

Nakamura Kuroda raised his free hand into the air and waved. The other hand was clutching an off-kilter ice cream cone, already slumping to one side. "Hey, man, what's up?"

Jackal placed his hands on the back of his waist and took deep in-and-out breaths. He felt overheated from the running (though, the fact that Ayumu was here didn't help). "Just jogging," he said.

Kuroda and Ayumu scanned him over. Jackal suddenly felt subconscious about his loud Rikkai uniform. The yellow and black trailing lines down his legs, across his shoulders, around his torso drew eyes everywhere he went.

"Tennis, huh?" Kuroda said, breaking the silence.

"Yep."

Ayumu stepped away from her brother's side. "Hey, d'you wanna come see the other matches with us? Our team is playing."

"Really?" Jackal asked, intrigued. This was Ayumu and she said everything intriguingly. "Which school?"

"Itoguruma."

Itoguruma was a public school in Hiratsuka. When it came to academia, the school was as much of a contender as some of the private schools. However, the school was poorly lacking in athleticism. In tennis, Itoguruma, like most other schools in Kanagawa, was simply not good enough compete against Rikkai.

"I think we're playing you guys this afternoon," Jackal said.

Ayumu's eyebrows narrowed. Jackal's face suddenly felt like a billboard. She asked cheerfully, "So, do you want to come with us?"

Just then, a rousing cheer came from where Rikkai Dai was playing. "Rikkai must always win, Rikkai must always win," the crowd shouted in unison. Jackal, Ayumu, and Kuroda looked back that way, Jackal visibly blushing despite his dark skin. Judging from the noise, Marui and Niou had just won their first set. He said, "Sorry, I should get back."

"Right. Yeah," Ayumu said lightly. "We'll see ya at the gym, right?"

Somehow, she managed to phrase the question like a test. Unsure, Jackal just pulled his lips into a thin line and nodded.

~x~

"Hey, where were you?" Marui asked as Jackal came back from his run. He bumped his shoulder into Jackal's good-naturedly. "You shoulda seen me and Niou crush that other team."

Jackal smiled. "Sorry. I'm back for Singles Two, aren't I?"

Yukimura turned away from Jackal and Marui sitting above him. He patted Sanada's back and said in a jesting tone, "Go get 'em, champ."

Sanada rolled his eyes. "Be serious, Yukimura," he replied gruffly.

"'Be serious, Yukimura,'" Niou mimicked to Yagyuu across from them.

Sanada Genichirou strode onto the court like a king returning to his kingdom and shook his opponent's hand with a grip that terrified and a stare that paralyzed. "Love-all, Sanada Genichirou to serve," the referee called.

Four points passed by the audience and Sanada's opponent between each blink of the eye, setting the tone for how the rest of the match would proceed: quick, concise, and impersonal. Sanada Genichirou didn't play with his food.

After the first game, Yukimura decided to look for Sumiko. Wandering through the tournament grounds, he sometimes stopped and observe other matches, not terribly dedicated to his self-assigned task of seeking out his sister. He only forgot about his goal completely when he saw Renji sitting atop some bleachers.

Striding up to the topmost bleacher, Yukimura sat down beside Renji and leaned over his friend's shoulder to catch a glimpse of what he was writing. He soon gave up, because little-known fact about Yanagi Renji: he had terrible handwriting when he was writing quickly. Yukimura angled his body toward where Renji was looking and folded his face into the same concentrated look as Renji's.

Two first-years were playing doubles against two incredibly tall third-years. They were twins, the younger high school duo, but that wasn't what had caught Renji's eye. It was that, at the moment, they were beating the third-year duo in straight sets, and they were doing it with effortless synchronization. If one approached the net, the other fell back; if one missed a shot, the other would be there like a solid wall; and when they went up to poach, they stepped in complete harmony.

Yukimura tilted his head. "Who are those two?"

"They appeared out of nowhere, playing for Itoguruma. Seiichi, pass me my pen." Renji said this last sentence when his pen flew out of his hand mid-twirl.

Yukimura picked it up and gave an experimental spin, trying to mirror the deft movements of Renji's hands. The pen climbed cumbersomely over his thumb and fell into the valley between his thumb and pointer finger. Not bad for a first try. He handed the pen to Renji and asked the question on his mind:

"Have you seen Sumiko?"

"I believe I saw her walking around with Miura Mitsueru."

Frowning, Yukimura got up and surveyed the tournament grounds below him. He found Renji had picked one of the highest places to watch from. He could see past each boundary if he spun in a full circle. He could see each match occurring, and each excitement-crazed fan. Looking out over the entire tournament, Yukimura suddenly realized how blinkered everyone was. Everyday, people walked around, contemplating their own problems, not even giving a damn about anything else in the world.

And Yukimura, he too was blinkered, blinkered by a net and a ball and a strip of green. He was struck by how lonely tennis was. When he stood on that court, everything boiled down to he against his opponent and the expectations of everyone else on his shoulders.

And this thought exhilarated Yukimura.

But he remembered—

Not so lonely.

Looking over at Renji, Yukimura thought his friend had always seemed satisfied with tennis, happy even. Could Yukimura have been reading him wrong this whole time? Yukimura narrowed his eyes, trying to read his friend's thoughts. He couldn't.

Yukimura thought back to the first time he had faced Renji on a tennis court: first year of middle school, at the interschool ranking matches, in group three. Renji had begun predicting his shots from the moment the match started; soon enough, Yukimura felt the need to show that he, too, could read his opponent as well as Renji could.

He hadn't been able to do it back then, either.

Sanada, however, had picked up on Renji's mannerisms in their second year.

Yanagi Renji, an enigma, obscured, enshrouded with mystery, and reticent, abstemious Sanada Genichirou had been the first to know him. Not Yukimura Seiichi, with his charisma and interpersonal skills. Yukimura with his obduracy when it came to things he couldn't understand.

Perhaps the problem was Yukimura. Yukimura had epitomized Renji as someone who couldn't possibly be read, so he had stopped trying to understand him, satisfied with a name and an ideal.

And now, Yukimura realized, he didn't know Yanagi Renji at all.

~x~

Niou left to buy a drink from concessions before the tournament ended and it was crowded with tired players. He'd gone before Sanada won his first set, and after Yukimura Seiichi had left in search of his kid sister.

"Surprise me, but not Ponta," Niou said, sliding his wallet out of his pocket.

"Here." The girl manning concessions set a drink in front of him.

It was grape Ponta.

Raising an eyebrow first at the drink, and then at the girl, Niou realized she was Kukaku Naomi, Hiroshi's little girlfriend, the one who debated and lost maps. He examined her expression, disappointed to find this girl and this girl only. The girl Hiroshi had introduced him to after school.

Niou searched for the girl who lived in his apartment building, who had gotten lost and cried after he dropped her off there. The girl who was still lost. That was the little girl he had met drinking in a bar.

This was not that girl.

"I said not Ponta."

"You also said, 'Surprise me.'" Here, she imitated his detached tone, rolling her eyes as she did so.

Niou sighed. He instructed, "Leave the Ponta, but get me a water."

Kukaku Naomi bit her lip sharply, looking like she had another morsel of wit to share. Niou raised his eyebrow at her before looking away to show he wasn't interested. She retrieved a bottle of water from under the concessions stand, slamming it down upon the counter. "Here."

Niou quickly calculated the cost, plus tax, and dropped a handful of yen on the counter. He unscrewed the top off the water bottle and poured a pint down his throat.

Head bowed as she rifled for change in the little pouch, Kukaku muttered sourly, "I spit in that." She flicked two coins at Niou.

"Thank you for your service," Niou said sarcastically. He made his way back to the tournament just in time to see Sanada win the first set in straight games. "Here, Hiroshi. Ponta from your little girlfriend." He tossed the can at Yagyuu.

"She's not my girlfriend. Kukaku-chan's here?" Yagyuu asked quizzically. "Marui-kun, here, have a drink." He slid it across the bleachers to Marui and Jackal.

"Thanks, Yagyuu," Marui crowed. To Jackal, he said, "Finally someone is appreciating how hard I work." He tapped it a few times and opened it. Fizzy liquid bubbled out and splattered on his uniform. Marui squawked, jumping up and flapping his hands.

Niou smirked.

"Yeah, she's working concessions," he said to Yagyuu. "That strange?"

"Only just."

"You're hiding something."

"Only just."

Niou rolled his eyes. Yagyuu wouldn't tell him. He pulled out his phone and idly typed the name kukaku into a search engine. He came up with numerous results, but the most occurring one was about a professor at Tokyo University—"Kukaku Gaoto."

He turned to Yagyuu. "That her dad?"

"I don't see why you would care," Yagyuu replied.

"I don't. But you think something is wrong, and I'm going to find out."

Irritation flashing in his eyes, Yagyuu turned to Niou. "Why the sudden interest in Kukaku-chan's past?" he demanded.

Niou shrugged. He tilted his head. "Anything for your little girlfriend."

~x~

"Will the players shake hands?"

Yasuo remembered the last time he had felt this charged with nervous energy. It had been when he player Marui. This time, failure to beat even one of the regulars manifested in his being, causing his hand to shake like he had overdosed on coffee. He concentrated on steadying his hand by gripping his opponent's hand as hard as he could. His opponent, a meaty boy, took this as a challenge and squeezed back. Their hands turned white under the sun.

"Rough or smooth?" Yanagi asked.

The two players shared a look. They said, "Rough."

Yanagi spun his racquet. It landed on rough. The two boys high-fived. The ref announced who was to serve, but Yasuo was too nervous to pay attention.

"Just remember how we practiced," Yanagi murmured as they got into position. Yasuo would be at the net so Yanagi could control the game. Yasuo wasn't sure how he felt about letting Yanagi be the puppet master; however, he was quite certain about his feelings toward winning.

Yasuo nodded solemnly.

The match started with a weak serve from the meaty boy who shook Yasuo's hand. Yanagi returned it effortlessly, and the two rallied back and forth for fifteen seconds (Yasuo was counting), before the opponent intercepted the tennis ball and volleyed at Yasuo's head. He winked at Yasuo and smiled, like they shared a secret.

"Yuudai-kun!" Yanagi called.

Yasuo started and swung wildly at his volley. The shot flew out, and the stands booed and cheered. Yasuo looked at the bleachers where the team sat. Everyone who was playing touched their foreheads or shook their heads, disappointment palpable in the air.

Yasuo and Yanagi's opponents shared a look. The net player called out, "So this is what Rikkai's made of, huh? I didn't know they showed favoritism. What, d'you have a brother on the team of something? Is that how you got picked?" He was talking to Yasuo.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" a shrill voice called from the bleachers. "Go, Yasuo-kun!"

Yasuo, startled, looked to where the voice had come from. Waving a Go, Rikkai! banner in the air, Ayami beamed at him and jumped up and down.

"Oh, is that your girlfriend? Is she here to cheer you on? Wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you, Yasuo-kun." The net player looked pleasantly, sadistically surprised.

The spectators had gone silent.

Cheeks burning at the unwanted attention, Yasuo growled tersely, "Just serve."

"Whoa, all right," the net player mocked, hands held up like a plea of innocence. With one of them, he gestured at his partner. "You heard the hotshot. Serve."

The second serve was fired bit stronger. Yasuo shook himself out and relaxed. He couldn't stop thinking about Ayami watching him from the bleachers. Oddly, instead of feeling happy and bolstered, he could only think about how she would be so disappointed if he sucked.

A rally had commenced between Yanagi and the meaty boy again. Just then, the net player got ahold of the ball. "Get you head in the game, Yuudai!" Koichi roared. Yasuo snapped out of his thoughts, focused on the ball, and slid into a volley.

Rikkai won that point, and the crowd went wild.

"Lucky shot," the net player sneered, brushing it off airily.

Yasuo struggled to ignore them, to shut them out. He looked to the bench. Their team advisor nodded semi-approvingly. Behind him, Makoto wore a sly smile on his face. Yasuo felt like he knew something about the outcome of the match that he and Yanagi didn't. And he wouldn't be smiling if they were going to lose, so that meant Rikkai would win Doubles One.

Confidence bolstered by his captain's faith, Yasuo put Ayami and his previous abasement out of his mind and concentrated on getting the ball across the net, not dragging Yanagi down, and crushing the net player.

Before he knew it: "Rikkai's Yanagi-Yuudai pair wins 6 – 0, 6 – 0!"

"You did good, Yuudai-kun," Yanagi told Yasuo as they were heading off of the court.

Yasuo beamed. He felt happy.

~x~

"Let's have a good match," Makoto said.

"Right," the opponent responded tersely. Makoto had not bothered to learn or remember his name, and he did not bother to listen when the referee announced it as the match started. His gaze flickered to the analog clock, taking Makoto a few seconds to read it before he determined it was already close to noon. Makoto's stomach rumbled, aware that it was supposed to be hungry now. "Let's make this match quick, shall we," Makoto called across the net.

"Just serve already," the opponent yelled.

Makoto smiled with satisfaction. "That's the spirit, Aihara Daiichi-san." He was glad he had been able to remember the name of the school Rikkai was battling.

He served lightly and the opponent managed a return even though it was to his weak side. Makoto ran for the opponent's wild return, just barely inside the single's court. He shot the ball to the opposite of where the other boy was standing, but despite that, the opponent still managed to return the shot. As Makoto ran for another wild shot, the adrenaline began to pump through his system, and Makoto forgot about his growling stomach. He just did what he did best: Attack.

The rest of the set consisted of short rallies, barely-in shots, and running around the court like circus monkey on Makoto's opponent's part. Completely in his element, Makoto hit each shot softly (the opponent's arm was soon shaking), slowly (the other boy's legs were soaked in sweat), and predictably (a haunted look soon crept into the other boy's eyes).

The first set ended quickly. The other boy stumbled off of the court while Makoto strode off with a poised smile on his lips. He sipped water from his water bottle as he watched the opponent out of the corner of his eyes.

Although his knees trembled and his elbow couldn't hold his tennis racquet upright without wobbling, the other boy looked fine to the normal person. However, Makoto's eyes saw gashes down each bulging muscle, throbs and protests around the joints, hopelessness on the opponent's face. Makoto's eyes saw victory in this agony.

"Will the players please come onto the court?" the referee called.

Makoto stood up and caught the other boy's eyes. By some unspoken message, they met at the net again and shook hands. Makoto looked into those dead, hopelessness eyes and offered relief.

"You can back out now. I won't blame you."

Numbly, the boy shook his head.

"Are you sure?"

"No…—but… no." Head hanging, the boy released Makoto's hand and trudged back to the baseline.

Makoto shrugged. "All right, Aihara Daiichi-san, your choice." He stalked back to the baseline and got into receiving position. However, a few moments passed, and then twice that many moments. Soon, whispers drifted from the spectators.

"Sir, please serve," the referee called.

Makoto's opponent stood still for a moment. He finally tilted his head up to the referee and said in a monotone, "I forfeit this match."

The crowd went silent. And then, screams and cheers filled the grounds.

Makoto looked at his team with a smile on his face. Their faces cupped fear in lean cheeks. Makoto, however, didn't care.

~x~

"Hey, Houshigawa, what's up?"

Aella turned away from her conversation with Hanako at the familiar voices. Walking up to her, Marui and Jackal wore affable smiles, shamelessly unaffected by the stares they were attracting. "Hey, guys," she said.

"What're you doing here, Houshigawa?" Jackal asked.

Aella shrugged. "Eh. Just supporting my team."

"And by that, I assume you mean Rikkai," Marui interrupted.

Aella laughed, way too loudly as happiness overflowed inside of her. She shared a look with Hanako, who seemed oddly affected by Jackal and Marui's presence. "We were actually gonna grab a bite after this. Do you guys want to come?"

Jackal and Marui shared a look, too. This look was strangely troubled, riddled with secrets and worries. Mostly, Marui stole glances at Hanako and Jackal stole glances at Aella. Finally, they turned and said, "Sure."

Aella felt like she had missed something glaringly obvious. She twined a long strand of hair around her finger, resisting the urge to bite it. "Great," she burst out.

They four of them chatted as they walked past the teams in huddles outside the tournament campus. They passed by the high school Rikkai team. Aella's gaze caught on Niou's unstudied stance first, and she had half a mind to call out and ask if he wanted to come along. But he turned as she was opening her mouth and offered her a secretive smirk, and she decided against it. Then, she made eye contact with Sanada. He watched with a stoic expression as they walked by, and then turned into Yukimura and Renji's conversation. Noticing this, Yanagi and Yukimura dipped their heads to acknowledge her as she walked by.

And that was how Aella knew she hadn't been forgotten.

As Aella, Hanako, Marui, and Jackal filed into a nearby bakery, the smell of pastries and fresh-from-the-oven food drifted to their noses. Sliding into an exclusive booth near a corner, Hanako was thrown forcefully against Aella and Marui against Jackal. Aella did not miss the looks exchanged while this happened.

"I'm going to use the bathroom," she said.

Quickly, Hanako added, "Me too."

They walked away as Marui struck up a joke about how girls always went to the bathroom together. As soon as they round the corner into the bathroom, Hanako hissed at Aella, "What the hell?"

Aella turned away from the stall she'd been about to enter. She looked under each one for shoes, making sure there were no eavesdroppers, before she replied, "What?"

"Why did you invite them?"

"I thought I could."

Hanako flung her hands out. "Well, you can't." She was struggling not to sound choked up.

"Why?" Aella demanded. "You've been acting really weird since they got here. Is there something I missed?"

"Me and Marui broke up," Hanako half-screamed.

Aella paused. Softly, she wondered, "What?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Hanako said, a perplexed expression sneaking onto her face.

Aella shook her head numbly. She leaned against the bathroom door as Hanako explained everything to her. However, as the story grew predictable, Aella's head began to drift away. It retreated into her mind, until a thought was reached:

Have I really missed this much?

Aella was afraid so.

~x~

Yukimura arrived at the poetry slam at Naoko's church about five minutes before the actual poetry began. He had been trying to avoid this awkward standing-around-and-doing-nothing when he waited ten minutes before heading out the door so he could be a little late. But the universe just didn't seem to have that in mind for him today.

"Hey, nice to see you, Yukimura-kun," Naoko greeted him at the door. She was wearing a casual T-shirt and a pleated skirt that stopped right above her knees. This made Yukimura self-conscious about his choice of attire for tonight. Since the flyer hadn't told him the level of formality at this event, he had settled with dress pants and a white button-down shirt. He felt overdressed compared to her. Naoko collected the two-dollar entry fee. "Go on right in. We're just about to start."

Yukimura entered into the dimly lit cathedral. Now, he felt really overdressed as he gazed upon the T-shirts and jeans worn by these teenagers. He lingered close to the wall as he waited for the poetry slam to start.

"Hey, it's you," a girl said. "Yukimura Seiichi."

Yukimura nodded his head in acknowledgment. He half expected the girl to turn to her friend and tell her, but she merely shrugged and returned to her conversation.

Suddenly, the church doors closed, drowning the room in darkness. A spotlight opened above the stage, and a large man strode onto the stage. "Would everyone please find a seat?"

Yukimura looked around for a suitable place to sit. He saw Naoko gesturing at him from a place beside her friends and almost began to head towards them but thought better of it. He shook his head apologetically and sat in a seat at the very back of the church.

"Right, right. That's good. Now, before we begin this poetry slam, let's bow our hands and pray," the man, who Yukimura concluded was the pastor, said next.

There was a collective shuffle from the bodies around Yukimura. He felt like a poseur as he tried to mimic the pose of the girl and boy next to him. He ducked his head but kept his eyes open as the pastor thanked God and praised him and said "Amen" at the end.

"Now, let's start our poetry slam," declared the pastor. "Can I have a volunteer?"

Hands shot up around Yukimura. The pastor pointed randomly into the group and a fragile boy in a wheelchair rolled onto the stage. The boy was carrying a yellow legal pad in his lap. Holding the mike in his trembling hands, he cleared his throat and said, "Hello, hello? Testing, testing, one, two, three."

The crowd laughed.

Then, the boy grew somber. "This poem is something I wrote when I lost the use of my legs. I've just now become brave enough to share this, because the Lord has lent me his strength. I hope you guys enjoy it."

And then, he started reading from his legal pad. The words, although choppily arranged, rang in Yukimura with poignancy. He realized he could relate. He too had lost the use of his only difference was he had regained them. And for the first time, Yukimura realized just how grateful he should be.

And then, the boy was done with his poem and everyone was snapping quietly. Yukimura snapped along. He turned his head and found Naoko's eyes in the crowd. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

He regretted ever considering not coming.

A/N: Not actually sure if Ponta is fizzy, but let's pretend, shall we.

Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis or the lyrics at the top from Team by Lorde.