Lucky After All

by Granate, 2004


Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any money!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Kamio zipped his rackets into his black bag and stood before hefting it over his shoulder. Movement caught his eye when he turned to the exit. A unique head of red hair, a familiar spectre leaving the bleachers. He’d seen that guy at the public courts all week, but never playing. Moving purely on impuse, he sprinted to catch up.

“Hey! You!” he called as he slowed to a jog.

His query stopped and turned around languidly. “Not very polite there, Rhythm-kun,” he said with a distinctive lilt and then sighed, “He forgot my name already. On to the next conquest, I suppose.”

“You are Yamabuki’s Lucky Sengoku Kiyosumi,” Kamio said. He got his first real up-close look at the boy he’d beaten a week ago. He noticed that Sengoku’s lips curved naturally into that characteristic smile, but it reached his eyes only for a brief moment.

“Well, I am glad to be wrong, Fudomine’s Kamio Akira!” he said and then his gaze slipped to the ground. “Probably be changing my name, though,” he added, smile firmly in place.

“Leaving Yamabuki?” Kamio asked in surprise.

Sengoku blinked up at him. “Uh, no. Lost a couple very important matches this season. Maybe not so lucky.”

Kamio opened his mouth but then had nothing to say. The other boy looked at him funny and adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

“Well, see you around, Rhythm-kun,” Sengoku said before turning to go.

“You shouldn’t change the way you play tennis,” Kamio blurted out.

The boy in the green jacket stopped and turned back with a surprised look. “Who said I was?”

Kamio’s face burned with embarrassment. Where had he heard that? He swallowed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “You could have beaten me. You should have beaten me.”

Sengoku’s smile turned rueful. “But I didn’t.”

“It was a fluke,” Kamio insisted.

“It wasn’t,” Sengoku shook his head.

“You could see my Sonic Bullet. That’s supposed to be impossible.”

“But I couldn’t hit it.”

Kamio frowned. Why was this guy being so difficult? He was going to have to come out and admit it. “But you’re better than me. You’re All-Japan ranked. I could tell when we played.”

“Kamio-kun, I have replayed the match in my head over and over. No matter what I might have done, you would have beaten me in the end. You have something I don’t,” Sengoku said as if it were the simplest, most obvious thing in the world.

“What?” the Fudomine student challenged.

Sengoku chuckled. “If I knew, I’d have beaten you, wouldn’t I?” he said in a teasing tone and then let a melancholy sigh escape. “Or maybe my luck’s just run out. That Omoshiro character was wrong, ‘Lucky’ is just a nickname,” he shrugged.

“That Momoshiro!” Kamio swore in disgust.

“From Seigaku. You know him?”

“Know him? He stole my bike and then wrecked it!” Kamio growled. “He’s always showing up at the public courts and he made a fool out of me in front of everybody! We had to play doubles together against Shinji and Echizen! Ugh! We’d have won if it weren’t for his big mouth! And now he’s got his grubby hands all over Tachibana’s sister!” There was more, he was sure, but he ceased his rant at the sound of Sengoku’s laughter.

“You sure do get fired up,” he observed with both amusement and contemplation. His light eyes widened. “That’s what I’m missing in my game! That kind of… passion!”

“Passion?” Kamio repeated.

“Yes, that drive you have! When we played, your will to win was so strong that my skill couldn’t overcome it. That’s what it was,” he explained.

“You didn’t want to win?” Kamio asked.

Sengoku chuckled a little in embarrassment. “I don’t actually enjoy beating people, I just like a good game of tennis,” he admitted.

“I could…” Kamio faltered and then barreled on. “We could practice. Together. Sometime.”

Surprise washed over Sengoku’s features and then he grinned. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Rhythm-kun, but I don’t think you could teach me to want to beat an opponent into the ground.”

“I could help you find that passion,” Kamio said. He struggled with the last words and his face burned again, but he held Sengoku’s gaze resolutely.

Sengoku cocked his head. “I think you could,” he said thoughtfully.

“Start now?”

“Not too tired?”

“Oh, no,” Kamio insisted, “I think I’ve just found my rhythm.”