Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ When Tezuka Had Fallen For Her ❯ Act ix ( Chapter 10 )

Author's Notes: PLEASE READ. I want everyone to know that I'm so happy to receive feedbacks and encouragement from you. Thank you so much for reading this. This is my first ever attempt to make a sensible fanfiction, and a friend had told me that choosing Tezuka was quite too much for a head start, and I somewhat think she was right, because I'm having real trouble on doing this. Your reviews are one of the things that kept me typing in my computer (gets handkerchief and blowing her nose). Really, I find this corny (hehe), but I think I really need to thank you guys!

 

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis (I had finally given up on seeking the perfect person to do this for me *sighs*)

 

 

 

 

 

 

~>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+> +<+>+<~

 

 

Act ix

(Chapter Nine)

 

 

~>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+> +<+>+<~

 

 

 

 

 

“Honto, Shi-chan?”

 

“Sou.”

 

“I must watch you later, then!”

 

Tezuka distractedly looked up from his world history book to the couple of his female classmates huddled around what he recognized as Mizuno Shina's chair, which was just a seat away from his own. What the buchou only knew about Mizuno Shina was that she and he had been classmates since fourth grade, that her family owns a major sports clinic in Okinawa and that she is the vice captain of the Seigaku girls' team. Not that he cared anyway. These girls were being way too noisy, and they are disturbing him.

 

Sighing in defeat, Tezuka closed his book and got onto his feet, thinking that he should be now changing for club practice. He returned his book in his bag and carried it as he walked towards the door, when he caught what Mizuno Shina said to her friends in a very airy one of voice.

 

“I was informed that she was a champion from some random country. I'm not sure if the freshman's bluffing, but by the way she accepted the challenge confidently, I think she's telling the truth.”

 

“Maybe you should prepare, Shi-chan,” one of the friends said. “If the rumors about her being a champion is true…”

 

Mizuno laughed haughtily. “Oh, come on! How bad can it go? Besides, Seigaku's specialty is tennis…”

 

Tezuka didn't hear the rest of the conversation as he continued walking along the nearly deserted hallway, shaking his head.

 

Letting her guard down like that, he thought. I won't be surprised if she loses the match, regardless of how good she can be.

 

He seemed to not notice the hopeful and dazed looks of the female students as he passed by, and the giggles they were trying (and failing) so hard to stifle. All he had in mind were playing strategies.

 

“Tezuka,” a familiar serene voice cut through the bespectacled buchou's thoughts.

 

He looked over his shoulder to see Fuji Syuusuke and Kikumaru Eiji emerging from Class 6's door.

 

“Fuji, Eiji,” Tezuka said, by the way of greeting. The three of them resumed walking together, making the girls giggle even more and the boys follow their progress silently.

 

“Did you hear, nya?” Eiji voiced out, once they descended the stairs. “A big event's going to happen in the girls' courts. The girls in the class were talking about it.”

 

“Saa…” replied Fuji with his usual smile. “What could it be?”

 

“Something like a challenge match between a junior and a senior,” said the redhead wonderingly. “Dunno why, but I remember Ochibi every time I think about it.”

 

“Hmm…sounds like our Echizen,” said the brown-haired tensai, as he reminisced the said freshman's challenge match with the non-regular Arai half-a-year ago, which ended with the non-regular being humiliated. Oh, how entertaining it is to see someone so miserable.

 

“I believe it's vice-captain Mizuno Shina who will be playing,” said Tezuka.

 

The other two's silence made the stoic hazel-haired captain glance at them curiously.

 

“You know about it?” said Fuji in a slightly amused manner.

 

“What's the matter with that?” Tezuka asked impassively.

 

“It's weird for Tezuka to know rumors, nya,” said Eiji, resting his hands at the back of his head casually. “He's the last one to know even the most well-known gossip!”

 

“I happened to hear it from my classmates by accident,” said Tezuka, shrugging.

 

“Saa…but I heard that that Mizuno Shina has a horrible attitude,” said Fuji smilingly, not bothering to lower his voice. The nearby students gave him an odd look and talked among themselves.

 

“Self-proclaiming, nya,” chimed Eiji in agreement. “I remember the time when we're in the same class. She loves to pick on the people she knew won't fight back. I wonder how she became the fukubuchou?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+> +<+>+<~

 

 

 

 

 

“Please…!”

 

“I said, no…”

 

It had been like that for quite a while now. Tomoka and Sakuno persistently trailed behind Ringo, who was trying her best to ignore the two and had resorted into walking around campus in the hopes of getting them tired and weary.

 

But her plan seemed not to work.

 

Plan B, she thought rapidly. Make out unquestionable excuses. Convinced, she came to a halt and breathed deeply.

 

Sakuno almost ran over Tomoka when the latter suddenly stopped.

 

“Gomen, Tomo-chan.”

 

“It's okay…” Tomoka said reassuringly to her friend, before looking back at her senpai.

 

Ringo turned around to face the freshmen. “I just can't…” she said sadly. “I don't have my clothes and racket with me.”

 

“That won't be a problem,” said Tomoka at once. “We can borrow the clothes from other members of the girls' tennis club! I'm sure someone among the members has the same size as you, Ringo-senpai.”

 

Ringo whacked her brains for another excuse. “Of course…but, I haven't played for quite a time, so I'm not sure if I would be able to play properly. I might even hurt myself; I didn't have proper training for months. I wasn't prepared for this. This even happened without me knowing.”

 

This was it. She had done it.

 

The two freshmen looked at each other guiltily, realizing what they have done. They dragged an innocent senpai into trouble where they were actually at fault. They were forcing her to help them, not thinking how hard it would be on her part.

 

Tomoka shifted her feet uncomfortably. “Gomenasai, Ringo-senpai,” she said lowly.

 

Sakuno bowed at Ringo. “Gomen!”

 

Ringo stared at them. She was glad that her excuse worked out, but she can't help but feel guilty for rejecting them. Did she have a good reason not to play tennis anymore?

 

She mentally shook her head and tried to convince herself.

 

“We shouldn't have forced you,” said Tomoka sadly. “I didn't think about your feelings.”

 

“Me and Tomo-chan would just go there and apologize,” said Sakuno. “Gomen, Ringo-senpai. This was our fault.”

 

Ringo rested a hand on each of Sakuno's and Tomoka's shoulders comfortingly. “I'm sorry too, guys…I wish I could have helped you.”

 

She really wished she could. But it was just bad luck that they asked for the wrong favor. She would never play tennis again. Never.

 

Tomoka shook her head and smiled her usual smile. “I should pay for what I did, anyway. We should go now; those seniors must be already waiting.”

 

“Demo…Tomo-chan…” said Sakuno worriedly. “Will you be okay?”

 

“Daijobu,” said Tomoka confidently. “I, Osakada Tomoka, never take back her words, even if it costs her life.” Her voice sounded unsure even if she wore a carefree smile. “Oh well…ja!” She broke into a run towards the opposite direction.

 

“Gomen, Ringo-senpai.” Sakuno bowed at her senpai for the last time before stumbling after her friend. “Tomo-chan, wait!”

 

Ringo looked at their backs regretfully, doubt washing all over her. Did she make the right decision? Will she just let her kouhais suffer the consequences? She knew that it was their fault anyway, so punishing them would be just right, ne? That's what happens to people who think about themselves ahead of others. They somewhat deserve it…

 

Just like how she deserved to be punished…

 

She stared at the now empty hallway, the silence pressing on her ears, not really registering it in her mind. She then began to walk away.

 

Yes, they deserved it. They must suffer the consequences…

 

Right?

 

 

 

 

 

~>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+> +<+>+<~

 

Flashback

 

~>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+>+<+> +<+>+<~

 

 

 

(Note: The letters written in bold letters are spoken in English)

 

 

Five years ago…

 

 

----

 

 

“Ringo! Today's Sunday!” called out a voice from outside. “Let's go somewhere!”

 

Eight-year-old Ringo had made sure that her shoes were tied properly before picking up a tennis racket and a few balls from her closet.

 

“Sorry!” she yelled back, recognizing the voice as her friend's. “I've got to do practice today!”

 

She heard the faint sound of her house's front door as it was opened, probably by her Mom, to talk to her friend, who she assumed was standing on the doorstep below her bedroom window. That friend of hers should have known better; Ringo spent her whole Sunday in the courts.

 

Ringo left her bedroom and went downstairs for breakfast, and found her Dad already seated at the dining table, face hidden behind the newspaper.

 

“Ohayo, Outo-san,” she greeted, taking the seat nearest to him. Her Dad chuckled behind the paper.

 

“So, you finally perfected Japanese, huh?”

 

“How couldn't I?” said Ringo, swinging her legs back and forth (she was so short by then that her feet dangled inches from the floor as she sat). “How can I speak if we go to Japan?”

 

She paused when she noticed her Dad's grip on the newspaper slightly tighten at the mention of Japan, but decided to overlook it. For some reason he gets weird when they talk about the country. She quickly thought of another topic.

 

But her Dad had suddenly spoken even before she could come up with a subject.

 

“Why don't you go with your friend today?”

 

Ringo forked a hotdog and took a bite of it before answering, “I think it would be wiser to spend my time practicing.”

 

Her Dad laid the newspaper down, but Ringo wasn't looking at him. She was staring at her plate.

 

“Don't you think you're overdoing it?” There was a hint of something in his voice, but Ringo can't quite lay the finger on it. “Enjoy your childhood days, Ringo. You only live once.”

 

“Yes, we only live once,” said Ringo. “So I think I mustn't waste time. I need to train more. I can't let the opportunity of becoming strongest in Britain pass by; who knows if there would still be a second chance?”

 

There was a short pause.

 

Finally, Ringo saw out of the corner of her eye that her Dad shifted on his seat, and she could tell that he was smiling at her.

 

“I'll be happy whenever you are, Ringo,” he said. “Just follow your heart's desire.”

 

Ringo nodded. “My desire is to be the world's top player, so that I can make Dad happy, ne?”

 

Her Dad laughed. “Why yes, darling. I just don't want you pushing yourself too much. It'll make me worry.”

 

“Hai.” Ringo jumped on her feet and grabbed her tennis gear, which was on the seat by her side. “Dad, can you coach me again? I need to perfect that serve for the tournament.”

 

Her Dad sighed as he picked up his spoon to stir his coffee. “I would like to…but there was an important errand I need to attend to. Gomen.”

 

“It's okay,” she said, leaving the dining room. “See yah!”

 

“And Ringo,” her Dad quickly said, making his daughter turn around. “You can come with me, if you like.”

 

As expected, she shook her head and smiled. “I would do better if I practice.” With that, she left, failing to see the thin line of disappointment in his father's lips.

 

As Ringo walked along the hallway to the front door, she saw her Mom just entering from outside. She looked up as she noticed her daughter approaching.

 

“Ohayo,” Ringo greeted cheerfully.

 

“Ohayo,” her Mom greeted back. “Already leaving, Ringo?”

 

“I need to consume as much time as possible.”

 

Ringo's hand was already on the doorknob when her mother spoke.

 

“Your friend Leah told me you haven't had any get-together for quite a while now.”

 

Ringo looked back at her. “Aa…I was busy…”

 

Her Mom eyed her worriedly. “You've been practicing day and night, Ringo. Don't you think you had enough? You should rest. Even your friends are worried sick.”

 

Ringo frowned lightly. “Daijobu. There are many kinds of players out there, and to be the best I'll need to beat them all, right? And to beat them I need to be strong, and to be strong I need to train. I really need to do this, Kaa-san.”

 

Her mother stared at her, before sighing in defeat. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”

 

“Hai. Ittekimasu!”

 

“Ringo…Matte…!” But Ringo had already disappeared behind the door, leaving her mother staring worriedly at the piece of wood that barricaded the house from outside.

 

“I was going to say Ittarashai…”

 

-------

 

Ringo exhaled a cry as she hit the last ball thrown at her by the machine with the strongest hit she could muster. She had hit it with such force and accuracy that the yellow ball darted directly back to the mouth of the feeding machine, causing it to jam inside and thus breaking the apparatus.

 

She shouted an apology to the flabbergasted tennis garden manager who attended to the poor machine, before going to the bench to quench her thirst and wipe sweat off her face. Sparse hairs clung on her cheeks as she panted.

 

She then picked up her racket, now planning on practicing her serve, when she realized that her sports bag was vibrating—or rather, her phone inside it was ringing to announce a pending call.

 

“Hello?” she said loudly over the noises of the bouncing balls and the low chattering of people.

 

Her mother's voice drifted from the phone. “Ringo, for goodness' sake! You're not answering your phone!”

 

“Gomen…I was practicing—” Ringo barely finished her sentence when her Mom interrupted. Something seemed to be wrong.

 

“Ringo…anata (1)…” was all she managed to say, before bursting into sobs.

 

Ringo's eyes widened and she gripped her mobile phone tightly. “Doushite? What about Outo-san?”

 

Her mother's reply sent chills down Ringo's spine, and she failed to notice that she had dropped her racket in shock. “No…”

 

 

-------

 

 

“Dad…where's Dad?!”

 

Ringo's mother and the doctor were sitting on two of the chairs lining the hallway. They both looked up when a panting Ringo still in her tennis clothes halted before them, panting heavily.

 

“He'sinthere,” the doctor said in a low voice, referring to the nearest door. He had barely finished speaking when Ringo barged in the said room.