In the Sidelines
By EmptyWord

Disclaimer: Princess Nine belongs to ADV Films, Phoenix Entertainment, and others. I am not included in that list.

Warning: Spoilers for Episode Five of the anime. In fact, the dialogue here is taken entirely from that episode, for obvious reasons. Simplistic and amateur-ish writing style to follow.

I watch you make a fool of yourself over her, and I don't say a word. Your grin is always brighter around her, your attitude even looser than usual. You change, subtly, in her presence, and I feel as though I've lost you. I feel cheated.

You make a careless remark, too careless, and she storms away, childish nose in the air. She never sees past your manner, poor as it is, and she never understands you, your real intentions, boiling so palpably beneath the surface. She can't read you like I can.

You shout after her, "H-hey, Tofu, wait!" But the unflattering nickname only seems to drive her further away. She hears only the name and misses the affection beneath. With a small sigh, you turn away from the fence back toward the field, baseball bat tapping lightly at your forehead in self-remonstration. I understand you more than you do yourself.

"You're hopeless, Hiroki." You turn at the sound of my voice, surprise flaring briefly in your eyes. I try to tell myself you were too distracted by the game to notice my presence. Being placed second to baseball is miffing but infinitely more tolerable to coming after another girl.

I saunter closer toward the fence, where Ryo was moments before, but I do not smile or blush or glare at you with her wide, carefree eyes. No, my eyes are naturally narrowed, hidden beneath heavy lashes, and I don't allow any emotion through. Especially not to you. I keep my eyes briefly closed and a hand on my hip, my attitude challenging yours in carelessness. But yours is the more genuine one. "Even a girl like that can't be treated like one of the guys."

Your easy grin is familiar and calming. It boosts my confidence. "Or else what?" you asks.

"Or else she'll give you the brush-off."

"Her brush me off?" You aim your finger at your handsome face, the very picture of cocky disbelief. "You've gotta be joking!"

"You're just as confident as ever, I see." But I want to reach over and shake you. I want to yell at you, make you hear your own words. Because now you're the one sporting a disguise. Do you really not know your own feelings? Do you not realize how easy it would be for her to brush you off, how vulnerable you've made yourself?

"You like her, don't you?" Do I not realize how vulnerable I've made myself?

You take a moment to respond, your eyes traveling into the distance where she'd walked off. "Well, when you put it like that, I guess I do." Your smile is soft and breathtakingly real; it is the least frequent of your smiles but means the most. When we were younger, when I could afford to let my guard down with you, you would save this smile just for me. Even now, even knowing that smile isn't intended for me, perhaps because I know, I feel my heart wrench in response.

"Ever since I first saw her pitching, it's like fate was throwing us together," you continue, frighteningly serious. When you suspend your joking manner for a few seconds to say something serious, people listen; people really listen because you do not like baring your soul. But even as I listen, I am afraid to look into your eyes. I am afraid to find them glazed and star-struck. I do not want you to have changed. I thank whatever gods may be that at least your voice is even, if a little lower than usual. "I admire her skill, her perseverance, and even though she's such a tomboy, there's something feminine about her that makes me feel all weird inside."

I think I've stopped breathing. You are silent for a little bit, lost in your thoughts, and I can't decide whether I want to kick you or walk away or even cry. Your words are not enough, don't make sense to me, and I can't unravel the coil of jealousy pushing against my chest. What exactly is it about her, Hiroki?

"Hey, Izumi?"

Your voice has changed, grown sterner, more collected, and demanding, and I can't hold back a small gasp.

I do not answer you, but you continue anyway. "After that match the two of you played, I heard you've been pushing yourself a lot harder on the court."

A familiar haze of despair settles heavily over me as I remember the court and the crazy desperation that now grips me when I feel the weight of the tennis racket in my hands. Since losing to her, I have been fighting to gain the upper hand ever since. Whatever accomplishments in my past are meaningless; whatever praises I have garnered before her are unworthy. She is my only obstacle. And what frustrates me is how insuperable she is. No matter how well I play on court, I can't beat her. I've played till my hands dripped blood and pushed myself till I collapsed, but it's just not enough. I'm just not enough.

I turn away from you before you can see the naked fear in my eyes. Mustering all my strength, I pull a mask back on.

"Look... I have to be getting back to practice by now. The guys are waiting."

An irritated sigh greets my answer. "Izumi, wait." You are more serious than ever, and I don't want to listen. "You can't keep doing this to yourself." You speak as if you care more than you do, and I wish I didn't know you so well. We have been friends too long.

"I don't push myself too hard." My refutation is calm. Everything about me is calm, except for the desperate ache in my chest and the fire in my blood.

Your words are even quieter. "Yes, you do."

The confident insistence in your tone breaks me. How dare you speak as if you know every secret in my heart? How dare you assume I am completely at your mercy? You know so little about the wants I've hidden away, the desires I've never admitted to – and my heart pounds with the bitter reflection that you don't deserve all that I feel for you. You are more callous than you could ever know.

But I am strong. I've grown up being shunted aside by the people I love the most, and I know how to defend myself. So I say coolly, "It's none of your business anyway."

You turn to face me, and I have the strange feeling that you are on the verge of grabbing my shoulders. Your eyes are so beautiful when you're like this, and I think I may have forgotten how to breathe.

"I know how much you want to win, but you'll burn yourself out like this." Earnestness lines your voice, and I am so tempted to believe you. "I love the way you never give up –"

I freeze at those words. ...never...give up? I wonder, uncomfortably, why they sound so familiar.

"...but you have to know your limits."

The strange feeling passes, and for some reason, I want to laugh. I have never known my limits – I doubt I even have limits – and even you should know by now how futile it is to ask it of me. But you have no idea what winning means to me.

"Listen, Izumi," you continue, and I would have thought you were pleading if I didn't know better. "We've known each other since we were little kids. You don't have to hide behind this ice-princess persona with me. Okay, you got that?"

It hurts that you don't really understand me at all and you're not as good of a friend as you think you are, but the world almost seems all right when you're looking at me with such serious eyes. For once, I know this is not about her.

"...Okay then," you say finally, sensing that I'm not about to respond. Then, as if satisfied with your mission, the mischief returns to your eyes and a smirk curls your lips as naturally as if it was born there. With one last look, you set off, and I wonder when I'll see you again.

You and I both know I'm not going to stop being an ice-princess, not for anyone. What you don't know, Hiroki, is that you are the only one I'm willing to be anything else for. It is something I fear that you will never realize, now that you've met Ryo.

But there are moments when you are the same as you've ever been, reminiscent of our younger days, and just for now, Hiroki, this much is okay.

A/N: This one-shot has been in my computer files for a while, and I'm currently on a bit of a posting spree. Rereading this made me realize how painfully un-special and pointless it is. Nonetheless, if you've read to this point, I thank you for it and hope you enjoyed the ride.

April 1, 2007