Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis was created by Konomi Takeshi. Not me. Please don't sue.

Solitude

By Cinpii

--sound effect--

--pok--

Things were confusing.

--pok--

Echizen Ryoma frowned as he drew his arm back and hit the tennis ball with careless precision.

--pok--

It was after hours, practice long since finished and the Seigaku tennis team scattered and gone.

--pok--

He should have been halfway home by now, he mused. The vivid streaks of violet and gray in the once baby blue sky were testament to the fact that darkness was descending. And yet Echizen Ryoma remained, racket in hand, robotically hitting the ball upon the same spot on the wall. Again and again and again.

--pok--

She was so confusing!

--pok--

He wondered how things had changed so much. How things became so wrong so fast.

--pok--

He got used to her face. And therein laid the source of his misery.

--pok--

He should have seen it coming. But he was never really perceptive about things like that. Things like… love.

--pok--

Was that what it was? That burning, insidious sensation that started out in his chest and ate away at him like a disease. That irritatingly unfamiliar feeling that crept upon him every time he saw her shy smile or heard her soft voice.

--pok--

She was nothing to him at first. Just another body, another face. Nothing special or striking at all really. Although in hindsight, he did concede that she was indeed quite pretty.

--pok--

Not that it ever really dawned on him. Tennis was his life. Annoying little girls were definitely not. Even if they were as cute as Ryuzaki Sakuno.

--pok--

He could remember her hands on his arm, the time she tried to drag him to the hospital during his match with Fudomine. His racket had shattered and the metal handle had ricocheted off the netting post and struck his face. It was only a cut above his eye, but nooo, she had to make a huge fuss and embarrass him in front of not only his teammates, but all the spectators too.

--pok--

Worse than that, she was interrupting a man-to-man match. That was such a total breech of court behavior; he was stunned by her audacity. Was it his fault if he snapped at her and hurt her feelings?

--pok--

So maybe he was a little harsh. The sight of all that blood gushing down his face probably didn't look like a minor injury to anyone. Much less some dinky little girl who for some unfathomable reason, kept showing him kindness.

--pok--

It really was mind-boggling.

--pok--

Oh, he had won the match. And at the time, that was all that really mattered to him.

--pok--

He didn't regret the sharpness of his words or the curtness of his tone. She was merely showing him concern, but it was unwanted.

--pok--

At that time, she irritated him.

--pok--

So he never realized he missed her until she was no longer around. Funny. How did that saying go again? 'You never appreciate what you have until it's gone.' In his defense, he didn't even know there was something there.

--pok--

He really was absolutely clueless. If it wasn't about tennis, he was as blind as a mole feeling its way through the dark.

--pok--

Everything was his fault though. If there was one thing he was sure of about this whole confusing mess, it was that.

--pok--

It was his fault, because he had taken it for granted that no matter how badly he'd treat her, she would always be around.

--pok--

And now she wasn't.

--pok--

Their relationship was a strange one. He ignored her, and she kept coming back. He would barely acknowledge her existence, and she would grace him with a smile. He would walk away, and she would follow.

--pok--

The only time he ever really noticed her was during tennis practice. He noticed she sucked.

--pok--

They went to the same school, shared the same grade, and played the same sport. He saw her a good six days a week, and even more when their social circles overlapped. All that potential time together and the longest conversation he could recall was maybe ten words long. All that potential time together and he had not spared her a passing glance. She was like so much background noise to him, and he treated her as such.

--pok--

It wasn't like it was a conscious effort on his part to ignore her or something. Nothing malicious like that. She just didn't stand out. Didn't strike him in any particular fashion. Hell, the first day they met, he had spent the whole afternoon with her and he didn't even remember her face, much less her name.

--pok--

But slowly… things changed. She became more than another face in the crowd.

--pok--

She evolved into a persistent, annoying gnat. A bothersome insect that itched its way into his consciousness.

--pok--

And now her face wouldn't leave him alone. She had visibly stamped her presence into his mind, and nothing, not even his beloved tennis, could make her damn face go away.

--pok--

Thinking about it now, it probably started with their 'date'.

--pok--

It wasn't even his idea. It wasn't even a real date. He was coerced into it. Totally innocent, minding his own business, he got called over by Ryuzaki-sensei and next thing he knew, he was saddled with The Girl, to escort her through the city to get her racket restrung.

--pok--

Since when was that even remotely considered going on a date? Try to tell that to oyaji or Momo-senpai though.

--pok--

Hell, he didn't even WANT to go. Suckered to spend his Sunday babysitting the coach's granddaughter? No thanks!

--pok--

And she was 30 minutes late too. She had effectively killed off half an hour of his life making him wait at a noisy subway station, bored to death.

--pok--

So whose fault was it if things started off on the wrong foot? Not his! He was doing her the favor. She could at least be punctual.

--pok--

But as the day wore on, it didn't turn out to be so bad. Racket restrung, they went to the park to practice her forearm swings. After she got over her initial clumsiness, it wasn't so bad at all. When she wasn't self conscious, her form was good and she held promise. He recalled actually being pleased about that.

--pok--

They had practiced a lot longer than he expected. Afterwards, he could have just walked her back to the station and then return home himself, but for some reason, he was loath to relinquish her company. The sun wasn't quite setting yet, but it was almost six pm. So he suggested going to a burger joint for dinner.

--pok--

Although conversation was sparse, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. When she didn't talk, she wasn't so bad. And when she did, well, her voice wasn't as grating as Horio's. It was actually soft spoken and sweet. He liked it. It was pleasant, soothing. It held an almost musical quality to it. He recalled thinking that she probably possessed a nice singing voice.

--pok--

They passed the park on the way towards the station. She thanked him and he was surprised when she went back to the tennis courts to practice some more. She was at the wall, struggling to hit the ball for more than five consecutive counts.

--pok--

She had thought he left, but he didn't. He was observing her the whole while with a tiny smile. Her perseverance was… intriguing.

--pok--

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but it was dark when she glanced at the sky in surprise. It was way past time to go home. She had looked at her watch in panic and made her way to the station.

--pok--

It wasn't exactly safe for a pretty, unassuming girl like her to be wandering the city at night. So he followed her. It wasn't a conscious thought, it just happened. Besides, if they met trouble, he was fairly confident that he could protect her. He wasn't the prince of tennis for nothing, ya know. He knew how to wield a racket, they doubled as nifty weapons.

--pok--

Everything was going fine, except she got lost.

--pok--

After following her around for a futile fifteen minutes, he was seriously reconsidering his evaluation of her. Ryuzaki Sakuno was a ditz.

--pok--

Maybe ditz was too harsh, but she definitely needed help in the navigation department.

--pok--

They weren't getting anywhere the way she was going – namely circles – so he took the situation in his own hands. He casually tapped her head with the sweet spot of his racket. The reaction on her face was priceless.

--pok--

He didn't want her to know he was following her around. It wasn't like he was concerned about her or something. Nothing idiotic like that. It was just his… duty. Yeah, that was it. Coach entrusted her in his care, so it was his job to look out for her. It was just his duty to see her home safe. The tightening of his gut told him otherwise. But he had pushed that pesky feeling aside.

--pok--

Not wanting to give her the wrong idea, he lied. Said he was doing some errands and saw her as she passed by. She took him at face value, and he felt a faint pang of guilt for taking advantage of her naivety. She was wholly too trusting.

--pok--

It was a good thing she wasn't his type, or he'd be worried. Innocence like that could get you in trouble.

--pok--

Not that he really had a type. He wasn't into girls. They were dumb and silly. Annoying creatures that never stopped fawning over him. He had a fan club to prove it.

--pok--

So he walked her to the station, and ended up walking her home too. Turned out she only lived three blocks from his temple. Who knew?

--pok--

And in retrospect,

--pok--

He actually had fun.

--pok--

But he had never let on. And when his friends, namely Horio and Momo-senpai, teased him about his 'date', he said something that he still regretted to this present day. Something along the lines of, "That girl? Why would I want to date her?"

--pok--

He hadn't meant it in a cruel way. He wasn't one to really talk smack, but the goading was hitting too close to home. He truly didn't mean anything by it.

--pok--

Too bad she heard.

--pok--

Home baked cookies wrapped in a cute pink handkerchief dropped to the floor from numb-less hands. Without a word, she spun and fled, twin mahogany pigtails flying after her. And in that instant, he knew he fucked up big time.

--pok--

He should have gone after her, but he didn't. He regretted that too.

--pok--

That was when she started avoiding him.

--pok--

And the days marched by and turned into weeks.

--pok--

Three weeks and five days, but who was counting?

--pok--

She never went to anymore of his matches. Sure, she attended team games. She cheered on his teammates. But when it was his turn to play, he couldn't feel her presence at all.

--pok--

It… hurt.

--pok--

He had gotten used to her unwavering support. Her quiet faith in him. He had gotten used to it and expected it.

--pok--

So not having it strangely… hurt. A lot.

--pok--

It took him a while to finally figure it out.

--pok--

He liked her.

--pok--

He, Echizen Ryoma, rising prodigy in the tennis world, liked a nobody like Ryuzaki Sakuno.

--pok--

It was truly unfathomable.

--pok--

She sucked at tennis. Royally, with a capital R.

--pok--

And she was so weak. So easily bullied. It seemed her only strength was how rapidly she apologized, and for things that weren't even her fault.

--pok--

But…

--pok--

Believe it or not, he liked her anyways. And it hurt knowing she didn't reciprocate the feeling.

--pok--

The heart really was a strange thing. It wasn't logical like the brain. No, it acted without thinking and left him confused and bothered. It made his pulse unsteady whenever he caught a glimpse of her and left his palms slick and sweaty.

--pok--

It was affecting his tennis, and that, Echizen Ryoma simply could not allow.

--pok--

He'd have to do something about it, and soon.

--pok--

But until he could come up with a plan, he wasn't sure what he'd do. Ryoma heaved a little sigh as he swung again, the sound of the fuzzy green ball making a satisfying noise against the wall.

--pok--

Things were confusing.