Midorino Mizu
Disclaimer: Tennis no Ohjisama and all associated characters are the property of Konomi Takeshi.
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Momoshiro Takeshi generally had good relationships with the players on rival teams, once they had gotten the competition thing out of the way.
Ibu and Kamio from Fudomine were a littleÉodd, sometimes, what with the formerÕs tendency to mumble and the latterÕs general hotheadedness, which had a tendency to clash with MomoÕs own general hotheadedness. But he got along with them well enough.
With the notable exception of their manager, most of St. RudolphÕs was reasonable. In fact, Momo occasionally had trouble believing that Fuji Yuuta was actually related to Fuji-senpai; the second year just seemed so normal.
Yamabuki, he had to admit, was a little strange. Still, they were friendly enough, and except for Taka-sanÕs rather violent friend, he had no problems with them. The same went for Rokkaku and Rikkaidai, although he didnÕt see players from either of those teams very regularly.
For the most part, Momoshiro got along quite amiably with all of the teams heÕd played while Seigaku had aimed for Nationals.
The major exception to this, of course, was Hyoutei Gakuen. The players from Hyoutei drove him nuts.
All of their regulars were arrogant and proud, and they all seemed to know exactly how to infuriate their opponents with minimal effort.
Even after the opponents were no longer opponents.
They irritated him so much, and so easily, that he usually went out of his way to avoid them. It made life considerably simpler, in the long run.
And yet, despite this sensible policy, Momoshiro Takeshi found himself at his favorite fast food restaurant on a late summer afternoon, eating hamburgers with a third year tennis player from Hyoutei Gakuen. It didnÕt make any sense.
He did have to admit that Taki Haginosuke was veryÉattractive, with his loose auburn-brown hair and almost delicate features.
In some ways, that irritated Momo even more.
ÒIs something wrong, Momoshiro?Ó Taki asked in a lazy, bored drawl. He hadnÕt ordered anything himself, apparently preferring the food on MomoÕs plate.
Momo blinked. ÒHuh?Ó he said. HeÕd forgotten himself for a moment.
Taki lifted a single slim eyebrow. Momoshiro wasnÕt exactly the most articulate of people.
ÒYouÕve been staring at me for the past five minutes,Ó Taki supplied. ÒIs there something wrong?Ó
Momo felt his cheeks redden. ÒNo,Ó he muttered, looking down at his tray of food.
ÒAh,Ó murmured Taki. He reached out and snatched a long, thin French fry and nibbled delicately at the tip. ÒThatÕs good.Ó
He met the juniorÕs startled gaze as he slowly devoured the French fry, lightly sucking the salt from the thin slice of potato.
MomoshiroÕs eyes widened further as the senior dreamily closed his eyes, cocking his head to one side, and delicately licked the remaining salt off his long fingers.
The Seigaku player could feel alarms going off in his head, but was too transfixed to actually do anything.
TakiÕs eyes slid open again and he smiled. MomoÕs violet eyes had a distinctly stunned expression in them. ÒYouÕre staring again, Momoshiro.Ó
ÒOh.Ó The junior Seigaku player blinked. He could feel the color rising in his cheeks again. ÒSorry.Ó
Taki shrugged, one slender shoulder lifting elegantly. ÒI donÕt mind,Ó he said.
He rested his chin on his hand and smiled knowingly. ÒYou can stare, if you want.Ó
There was an arrogant glint in the Hyoutei seniorÕs dark eyes that would have infuriated Momo yesterdayÉthat would have even infuriated him even earlier that day.
It didnÕt infuriate him anymore, he realized. It made his heart pound in his chest; it made his breath come faster, and his eyes dilate.
But he was definitely not infuriated.
And after Taki Haginosuke left, walking away from Momoshiro with typical languid grace, Momo stared down at the phone number heÕd left on the cheap restaurant napkin.
He didnÕt really understand what had just happened Ð why a day heÕd planned on spending alone had suddenly been shared by someone he barely knew. He didnÕt really understand why Taki had bothered, or why he had left him the number of his cell phone.
Why he felt a bit like he was being reeled in by an expert.
Regardless, he thought, as he carefully folded the napkin and put it in his pocket, heÕd probably use the phone number, and soon.
He was too curious not to.