Title: Natsumi’s Sweet Dream
Author: Rubious
Series: Get Backers & Prince of Tennis
Rating: PG-13
Pairings:Shido + Madoka, Ban + Ginji, Ryoma + Momoshiro
Warnings: humor, shonen ai, AU-OOC.
Disclaimer: Get Backers © Aoki and Ayamine. Prince of Tennis © Takeshi Konomi. This story is a work of fanfiction and is for entertainment purposes only.
Spoilers: Contains minor spoilers for both series.
Notes: After an exhaustive night, Natsumi daydreams about a table tennis tournament.
//thoughts//
* * *
Glancing at her watch to make sure she wouldn’t be late for her job at the Honky Tonk, Mizuki Natsumi hurried through the streets of Shinjuku on a sunny summer morning. Minutes later, she reached her place of employment and warmly greeted the café’s owner, Paul, “Good morning, Master.”
“Good morning, Natsumi. I’m glad you’re here because I have to go out and run some errands, including picking up our team’s T-shirts for the Shinjuku Table Tennis Invitational. I should be back in a few hours. It’s been quiet here lately and I’m positive that you can handle anything that might happen.”
Smiling confidently, Natsumi felt proud of the fact that her boss had entrusted her with the responsibility of minding the Honky Tonk during his absence.
In an anticipatory tone, she remarked, “I’ve been practicing every day after school for the tournament.” Local merchants, who were providing prizes to the finalists, were sponsoring the event. She hoped to win a gift certificate from a bookstore that would enable her to splurge and get the latest manga she had postponed purchasing due to limited funds.
“You’ll take first place easily,” Paul remarked encouragingly. He had been on the losing end of numerous games to the excellent table tennis player. On his way out the door, the proprietor said, “Page me if anything urgent happens.”
“I will. ‘Bye, Master,” the teen said as she donned her green apron and turned on the radio that was on a shelf behind the bar. A Lacus Clyne ballad, “Shizuka Na Yoru Ni” filled the room with its lush orchestration. [1]
Thirty minutes later, after completing her cleaning duties, Natsumi collapsed on one of the benches in a booth. “Now I can relax,” she sighed in a tired voice. The teen was on the brink of exhaustion after substituting for Ban and Ginji on a mission the day before. During that assignment, she had teamed up with an unlikely partner, Emishi, to retrieve some cherished mementos for an elderly woman. In the process of doing so, the duo along with Kazuki foiled a potential robbery.
That night, Natsumi had celebrated the successful assignment by watching episodes of her favorite anime, Prince of Tennis. Afterwards, sweet images of young boys in love with each other danced in her head as she fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning.
“Master won’t mind if I take a break. After all, it’s kinda dead in here anyway,” she reasoned. Even if her boss returned suddenly, he would certainly be forgiving and give her the benefit of the doubt. //Besides, look at how lenient he is with Ban and Ginji on the matter of paying their tab.//
She sang along with the song playing on the radio, “Mr. Déjŕ Vu”. When the tune ended, the tired girl stretched out her arms and yawned lazily. Leaning forward, the tired waitress laid her head onto he table and was soon asleep.
* * * *
As she snoozed peacefully, Natsumi’s dreams drifted to the forthcoming tournament.
Natsumi found herself at the neighborhood recreation center where the Shinjuku Table Tennis Invitational was being held. She was in the tournament finals against a member of the Seigaku High table tennis club. The excited girl had breezed through the competition, much to Paul’s delight because she was representing his establishment, the Honky Tonk.
Natsumi stood poised, as she was about to enter the gymnasium where the final match would occur. Inside, a ping pong table had been set up at center court. An official sat on the sidelines to render any decisions that might arise in the course of the match. Two tiers of bleachers had been set up courtside for spectators to sit and cheer.
Gazing out into the gym, she saw the stands were filled with supporters for both players. Ginji and Ban were waving a large banner that read “Go Go Natsumi!” Paul, Hevn, Himiko, Kazuki, Shido, and some of her classmates were also there to cheer her on.
Walking up beside the athletic girl, Haruki Emishi, who had appointed himself Natsumi’s coach/trainer, much to her chagrin, draped his arm around the teen’s shoulder. “Are you ready, Natsumi-chan?” he asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she responded, anxious to get the match under way.
“Wait here. I have one more matter to take care of,” he declared before rushing off to attend to the preparations he had made earlier that day in making sure that the unsuspecting athlete’s entrance would be truly memorable.
The event’s chief organizer from the Chamber of Commerce had already introduced Natsumi’s opponent, a 16-year-old sophomore from Seigaku High School, who was waiting patiently at the table. Natsumi left the hallway, paused in the doorway, and was about to walk towards the court when the lights suddenly shut off. The audience was shocked by the sudden darkness, but then a reassuring voice boomed over the PA system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, don’t be alarmed. I, Haruki Emishi, am proud to present, representing the Honky Tonk and hailing from Shinjuku, Mizuki Natsumi!” The prankster had taken control of the lighting and sound boards that were used in the gymnasium for special events. His voice rising in a crescendo as he spoke, the announcer elongated the girl’s name, making it “Natsuuuuuuuuuuuummmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.”
“Emishi-san, what are you doing?” the surprised teen yelled. But the showman wasn’t done yet. Flicking several switches on the light console caused a spotlight to shine directly on her, forcing her to shield her eyes from its harsh glare. Over the loudspeakers came a mix of thumping bass lines, crunching guitars, and swirling synthesizers that combined to create a catchy tune that was the hit of the Tokyo dance clubs.
Ginji nudged Ban and shouted to be heard over the music, “It has a good beat and you can dance to it. I’ll give it a 91.”
Ban nodded in agreement. “Hey, let’s go hit the clubs tonight. I feel like dancing.”
During Natsumi’s entrance, the spotlight tracked her path across the court to the table. Emishi turned several more switches, sending sprays of yellow and orange pyrotechnics shooting into the air while dry ice created billowing clouds of white mist around the entrance. Natsumi was embarrassed by the outrageousness of Emishi’s antics; she bravely held back the welling tears, not wanting to show any indications that might be perceived as weakness.//You didn’t have to go to such elaborate lengths, but it shows you’re a good friend.//
The audience reacted at first with a murmur of disbelief at the gaudy effects, and then eagerly applauded as Natsumi approached center court. Emishi turned the lights back on and scampered over to the girl’s side, receiving some derisive comments from the crowd, particularly Shido.
The man from the Chamber of Commerce reasserted control over the situation. “Before we get started, the national anthem will be performed by Otowa Madoka. Please stand.”
The spectators rose as her guide dog, Mozart, led Madoka, who was assisted by her beau, Fuyuki Shido. As the violinist played a beautiful rendition, Natsumi scanned the audience, searching for familiar faces. //Is he here?// Her eyes grew wide and her pulse raced when she caught a glimpse of the boy sitting in a section of Seigaku supporters.
“Yes, Ryoma-kun is here! And so is Momo! This is soooooo cool!” The teen squealed in delight, her heart fluttering from the knowledge that two of the Seigaku Regulars were attending her match.
Before taking Madoka back to the bleachers, Shido stopped and glared at his former cohort in Volts. “Emishi, you went too far this time. See how you embarrassed Natsumi. If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll have the crows peck your eyes out,” the surly man snarled in warning.
“But, Shido, she didn’t mind,” Emishi said defensively. //If he only knew, I do things like this to impress him.//
Laughing, he replied, “Emishi is so incorrigible. Maybe letting the rats gnaw on him would be better.”
Assuming their positions at their respective ends of the table, the two players stared at each other, trying to gain whatever edge they hoped to obtain by intimidating the opponent. Natsumi had the first serve and sent the ball rocketing past the other player, who flailed wildly at it like a batter swinging in vain at a fastball outside of the strike zone.
As the crowd applauded the ace serve, Ginji waved his banner and cheered loudly. The game continued with Natsumi delivering several more smashes on her way to a decisive 21-8 triumph in the first game of the match.
“So, what do you think of that girl's style of play?" Momoshiro Takeshi asked the boy sitting next to him. Smiling warmly, he had nodded his head towards Natsumi and when the waitress saw his expression, it filled her with delight even though the smile was most definitely not for her.
With his usual indifferent shrug, Echizen Ryoma glanced at his teammate for a moment longer than absolutely necessary and then remarked, "She's okay, I guess."
The second year Seigaku Regular beamed at his diminutive first year teammate and was relieved not to get an outright complaint about being there in the first place. The girl who was Natsumi's opponent was their good friend Oishi Syuichiroh's cousin, and since the well-liked vice-captain of the Seigaku team could not attend the tourney, they had come in his place.
Tilting his head slightly and gifting Ryoma with a small, knowing smirk, Momoshiro commented, "I liked the way she served those aces just now, Ryoma-kun." His smirk deepened as the person he was teasing by adding the atypical honorific reddened slightly before he added in a soft tone of voice meant only for his teammate's ears, "But I like your twist serve better, of course"
Bristling yet somehow enjoying the comfortable banter of his doubles partner, Ryoma hissed quietly, "Cut it out, Momo! Someone might notice!" He tugged down the brim of his omnipresent ball cap in a vain attempt to hide his blushing cheeks; yet dancing brown eyes spotted it and brought a tiny thrill to Natsumi's shonen ai-loving heart.
Momoshiro chuckled, a deep resonant sound that echoed pleasantly in Ryoma's ears, yet he did not reply since the two girls that were the center of attention were preparing to resume play. Besides, when he had such a fine opportunity to spend a few hours with the petite, ambidextrous wonder of the amateur tennis world, he would never promise not to tease
In the beginning of the second match, the girl from Seigaku scored several quick points in succession, knocking Natsumi off of her game plan. On the next point, the ping pong ball bounced off the table’s edge and fell to the floor before Natsumi could hit a return. Emishi exploded from the sideline, contesting the call. “That ball didn’t even hit the table! Are you blind?”
The judge reprimanded the protester sternly, “Sit down or I’ll have you ejected.” Emishi returned to his seat, grumbling. Several times he disputed the official’s decisions and shouted insults at the judge. The incessant distractions caused Natsumi to lose focus and henceforth, the game 21-11, tying the series at one game apiece.
Between games, Natsumi came over to the sidelines to confer with Emishi. “You didn’t have to mock the official by protesting his decisions,” the girl said icily, “Please refrain from any further objections.”
Emishi replied remorsefully, “I only did it so you’d win, but I guess it backfired. Natsumi-chan is still the best.” Turning to the crowd, he encouraged them to join him in chanting, “Natsumi-chan is number 1”, which generated an enthusiastic response from the Honky Tonk crew.
“You go, girl!” shouted Himiko.
As supportive cries echoed in the gymnasium, Momoshiro turned to say
something to his teammate and noted a small, disapproving frown spoiling
otherwise cute features. Concern triggered a predictable protective instinct
and he inquired, "What's up, Ryoma? Is something bothering you?"
Shaking his head a bit, Ryoma remarked, "That weird guy in the purple sunglasses reminds me of this one college basketball coach that I'd heard about when I lived in the States. His name was Bobby Knight and he was notorious for pitching fits that were admittedly worse than that guy's are."
Relaxing now that he knew he did not need to worry about taking action and thereby possibly disrupting a pleasant afternoon spent in desirable company, the much taller tennis player replied, "I think I remember hearing about him. The one who was with the Indiana Hoosiers at the time and liked to throw chairs, right?"
A rare smile of approval quirked the corners of Ryoma's lips for a microsecond, then was banished when he said, "Yeah, that's the one. But either way, it's still strange to see anyone act like that here in Tokyo. We Japanese are usually much more reserved about things like that."
"True," Momoshiro replied and let the topic drop in favor of going back to attentively noting positive things to report back to Oishi regarding his cousin's heartfelt efforts in the tournament. In between throwing unnoticed, furtive glances at the boy beside him, that is.
As the last game was about to begin, Natsumi crouched in her stance, ready to receive the serve from her opponent. //I have to buckle down and focus.// The Seigaku player tried to outsmart her with a drop serve. Natsumi sprang forward with the grace of a gazelle loping through the Serengeti, and using a deadly topspin, returned the ball just out of the opponent’s reach for an easy point. The game continued with the momentum switching back and forth while neither player gained dominance.
Ban shook his head. “No, Natsumi has the skills to pull off a victory. She doesn’t need any outside help,” he said, confident of the waitress’s athletic ability.
Overhearing the exchange, Hevn said softly, “Would you like to make a little wager?” The busty blonde tried to entice the Get Backers to forego their fee on their next job, but Ban wasn’t interested in those unfavorable terms.
Arching an eyebrow, Ban persuaded her to accept the opposite conditions. “If Natsumi wins, Hevn doesn’t take out her percentage on our next assignment,” he told Ginji. The intermediary frowned because she was certain their friend’s victory was imminent.
Natsumi looked over at Emishi, who had been confined to a chair by Kazuki’s strings to restrain him from interfering. The mirthful man gave her a nod of reassurance. “I can do this,” she told herself. With a ferocious velocity she served the white sphere and scored an ace.
“Game point,” the scorekeeper announced in a monotone. Rising to their feet, the crowd anticipated what might be the culmination of this hard-fought match.
Natsumi decided to end the match with a serve she hadn’t used in competition before. The hopeful teen wanted to prove she could emulate her tennis idol. //I know he’s watching. I hope he’s impressed.// She unveiled the serve, which resulted with her opponent volleying the ball weakly into the net, therefore, clinching the match for Natsumi.
The event organizer declared, “The winner of the Shinjuku Table Tennis Invitational is Mizuki Natsumi.” Cheers erupted from the spectators as the victor approached the vanquished shook hands with the girl from Seigaku, congratulating her on a well-played game.
As a member of the organizing committee, Paul had the honor of handing Natsumi the prizes for first place, a small gold-plated trophy and a 5000-yen gift certificate that was valid at participating local merchants. Glowing with appreciation, a megawatt smile spread across the winner’s face.
As Kazuki approached to congratulate the winner, he noticed an exasperated Emishi struggling to free himself from his bonds. The string-wielder commented sympathetically, “Poor Emishi. Trying to be the Clown Prince of Table Tennis.” The prankster’s pleas for assistance went unanswered.
The belled bishonen’s remark reached the ears of the two Seigaku Regulars who were on their way to console their schoolmate.
Ryoma groaned inwardly since he wrongly assumed this was a reference to a certain classic American comic book villain he had read about when abroad during his childhood. Then he shook his head as if to rid it of the image of a man with green hair and a manic smile.
Not concerned by this apparent display of mild pique, Momoshiro offered, "Don't worry about it, Ryoma." When the boy beside him lifted his head to face him, he chuckled with a wink, "You’re the real prince."
Their gazes locked for a timeless moment, which the victor of the tourney noted with glee before being shaken from her sweet distraction.
Ginji congratulated his friend on her victory, “I knew you could do it, Natsumi-chan,” which elicited an elbow to his ribs from Ban who chuckled because the blond had doubted Natsumi’s chances of victory.
“Thank you, Ginji-san. I did my best.”
Her black-and-gold Honky Tonk T-shirt drenched with perspiration, Natsumi felt giddy from exhaustion when Ban handed her a towel so she could wipe the sweat from her face, which she accepted gratefully. //I wished it was Ryoma who would’ve given me the towel. I hoped he liked my performance.//
“Natsumi, you’re the new princess of table tennis. You should be treated like royalty.” Ban congratulated her with a broad smile.
Blushing, the young girl was at a loss for word and mumbled, “Oh, Ban-san.” The Get Backers lifted their favorite waitress onto their shoulders and carried the girl out like a princess riding in a palanquin while her friends followed in an impromptu victory procession.
Trailing the celebration, Kazuki glanced back over his shoulder at the struggling prankster. //I’ll be back to untie you in a little bit. Just hold on. Be patient.//
Left behind by the throng of people and desperate to use a restroom, Emishi struggled to free himself from his bonds. “Hey, what about me? C’mon, let me loose.”
* * *
The jangling sound of the bell above the front door jolted the daydreamer from her reverie. Startled by the noise, she called out in a questioning voice, “Master?” but Natsumi was greatly relieved to see that the newcomers were Ban and Ginji, who had recently returned from a trip to the beach.
“Hi, Natsumi,” greeted Ban, who sported a nice suntan unlike his partner, who had collected a nasty sunburn while they frolicked in the sun-drenched sand and surf the day before. Ginji winced when Ban slapped him on the shoulder. “Next time, wear sun block,” advised the spiky-haired brunette.
‘I will, Ban-chan,” the blond said painfully. Disappointment crossed his face because although he enjoyed spending the day with Ban, their trip to the shore hadn’t resulted in any new assignments.
“I’m glad it’s you guys and not Master that came in,” the girl explained, as she went behind the counter to brew a pot of coffee for the two young men.//I’m relieved it wasn’t Emishi either. I could never tell anyone that he was in my dream.//
“Did you have a nice dream?” inquired Ban as he perched on a bar stool, noting that the girl appeared to be slightly groggy and had probably just woken up from a nap.
“Yes, I did,” answered the waitress wistfully as she placed Ban’s favorite mug before him. “The coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”
“Since we are the Get Backers, perhaps Ban could use the Jagan and give back to Natsumi her sweet dream,” Ginji announced hopefully, placing his hand on Ban’s shoulder. “Right, Ban-chan?”
Pondering Ginji’s suggestion, Ban remained silent. He preferred to use his special skill in cases where the pair would reap some economic benefits.
After the coffee had finished brewing, the cheerful girl poured the steaming black liquid into the men’s cups. “Ban-san, Ginji-san, your offer isn’t really necessary,” she stated, seeing Bad sigh with relief.
“But Ban could be a daydream retriever,” the blond Get Backer quipped with a smile.
The nonsense was interrupted when Paul returned with the box of Honky Tonk T-shirts. While he gave his employee and each Get Backer a shirt emblazoned with the bar’s logo, he gently reminded Ban and Ginji, “Now remember to wear the shirts to the ping pong tournament tomorrow and cheer Natsumi on to victory,” Taking his usual position behind the counter, he added, “Do you need directions to the recreation center?”
Ginji responded, “No, I know where it is.”
Natsumi removed her apron and donned the T-shirt over her white cotton blouse, and did a pirouette as she modeled it for them.
Watching the waitress return to her duties, Ginji asked Ban, “Do you think we could ever beat Natsumi in table tennis?” cognizant of her phenomenal talent.
“Only in our dreams,” Ban replied as he sipped his coffee.
The End
Author’s Note
[1] “Shizuka Na Yoru Ni” is on the Gundam Seed Suits 3
CD. “Mr. Déjŕ Vu” is the third closing theme for Get Backers.