Hi.

[insert obligatory copyright protection quote stating I do not own Prince of Tennis]

"There's a history through her

Sent to us as a gift from the future, to show us the proof

More than that, it's to dare us to move

And to open our eyes and to learn from the sky."

Numbers never lied.

That was Renji Yanagi's favorite thing about them. There was no such thing as deception, or guilt, or any hint of falsehood: if the numbers came out wrong, they were your fault, and if you thought they were wrong because you wanted them to be, they didn't change either way. Numbers were fair, and honest, and always right.

So, naturally, things like strong emotion just didn't make sense to him.

It wasn't practical. It wasn't quantitative, or fair, or honest. Things that couldn't be described with a few digits or a percentage were simply unworthy of his time.

It wasn't that he was some sort of devoid cyborg: Renji simply felt no need to examine that qualitative world when numbers were so much more concrete. He didn't need to be outspoken. Not many people recognized many things he said anyway, so he kept things to himself. Only maybe Inui Sadaharu was the one who slightly understood, but even that was to an extent. Digits and quantities weren't just data to Renji: they were truth.

The world was finely sketched in black and white, and all the lines curled into numbers.

"I don't know, Niou, I-I really don't think this is right-"

"Sure it is. I've been to Rikkai-what? Three years now? I'm positive. Now off you go."

"But, I really don't think this is the girls' bathroom. There's a man's sign..."

"Didn't you hear? It's drag year."

"Oh...wait-drag year?"

Niou pushed Mari into the door, knocking both over. Mari stumbled into the silent room, landing on her hands and knees with an "oomph". Geez, she thought, brushing herself off. He didn't need to push me; I can walk by myself to the bathroom, thank you very much...who leaves their shirt on the floor- her heart froze. Footsteps and a pair of sneakers stopped right in front of her. Two legs, black shorts, and a pair of familiar violet diamond eyes peered at her curiously under a mop of red hair.

Uh oh. This wasn't the girl's restroom.

Oh, and by the way, the mystery of whose shirt was on the floor was solved.

Mari clapped a hand onto her eyes.

Oh my, did you see that? His shirt was off, his shirt was off, his shirt was off...

"I-I-I was just looking for the bathroom." Mari scrambled to her feet and groped for the handle behind her- where was the blasted handle? She yanked the knob enough to twist it off and ran out-then wondered why it was so dark.

The door clicked closed behind her. Dimly, she saw a mop bucket laying at her feet. As her eyes adjusted from the crack of light under the door, her horror rose. Buckets upon buckets of tennis balls lined a whole shelf while the others held baskets of plasters, tennis rackets, strings, duct-tape, first-aid supplies, rolls of grip tape, and piles of fresh towels.

Great.

She'd just shut herself in a supply closet.

Mari felt like crying. Why was her luck so bad? Curse Niou. Curse herself. Curse bathrooms everywhere and changing rooms and German. She plopped herself down on the step ladder, wondering how on earth her day got off to such an awful finish.

"Rikkaidai is always eager to take in new students," the lady smiled all-too-eagerly through red lips. "Our curriculum is slightly advanced, but we've reviewed your record and all seems to be in order for you to begin your third year. Now, this is your classroom; your teachers will change rooms each day, so you will not be leaving the room save breaks and lunchtime. Now, I'll introduce you to Kawamura-sensei, and we'll get you settled in."

Mari nodded politely.

While the secretary talked in a hushed voice to the teacher, Mari tried her best not to shiver. These Rikkaidai kids creeped her out. They stared at her openly, unashamed of hiding that they were judging her. She was in uniform and understood this was their home-turf. Nothing good would come from her initiating a stare-down with thirty-two students on her first day.

So instead she examined her plaid skirt and silently hated on tweed until the secretary exited, and the sensei seated her near the back of the classroom between four girls.

Mari squinted her eyes at Kawamura-sensei.

This was to make her feel more comfortable, wasn't it? This was so if little Mari got scared she'd just turn to one of her girlfriends, wasn't it? This was because poor Mari was dependent on other people so much that she just couldn't manage ten seconds on her own, wasn't it?

Kawamura-sensei glanced up from her papers, caught Mari's creased eyes, frowned, and gestured her over.

Oh, shoot, Mari paled.

She approached as the teacher rummaged under her desk for something.

Uh oh. Do they really hit people with rulers for misbehaving? Or will she make me go sit seiza in the hallway for two hours? I thought that was a joke.

Instead, however, there was no ruler or order to sit in the corridor; sensei thumped a pile of textbooks into Mari's arms. "These are yours now. Take care of them and leave them at home until the end of the year: we have enough extras for a class set."

She put her elbows onto her desk and turned her steely eyes on Mari in a sure-fire 'serious talk' look.

"I'm not particularly concerned in any core subjects except for German and Japanese history, for obvious reasons...would you feel alright with me appointing you a student tutor?"

No, it was not alright. She would never work with a tutor. No Japanese stranger was going to start telling her what to do and making her do things. Mari would figure it out how she always did. By herself.

But, of course, it really didn't matter what she thought, so she nodded politely.

Kawamura-sensei nodded. "Renji-kun, come here for a moment would you, please?"

A boy with short-cropped brown hair padded obediently and bowed.

"I'm concerned for our new student's progress in a few subjects," sensei started, "specifically German and Japanese history. Would you be willing to help tutor her? You hardly need it, but I'm willing to add five points of extra credit every percentage digit Mari increases above an 85% on quizzes and tests."

Mari didn't like how she talked like she wasn't even there.

Renji gave a short nod. "Of course, however I have tennis practice before and after school every day-"

Sensei smiled, and Mari thought she looked almost proud. "I am aware. Congratulations on your latest victory. As you well know, however, you have some of the highest grades in the class, and with your past experience-"

"I don't need a tutor," Mari cut in. "Self-studying was how I learned Japanese." Kawamura-sensei's sharp eyes sliced through her, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Duly noted, though it's hardly your personal preference," her voice froze over, "Hikari-san."

Mari quickly sealed her lips. "Yes, sensei."

"Great. Then it's settled. You're both dismissed." Mari turned to leave. "Oh, and Hikari-san?"

"Yes, sensei?"

"Are your eyes alright? You seem to squint an awful lot."

Mari was used to being by herself. It made her self-sufficient and strong, she had figured. Relying on others was just...not...helpful. It just stretched her out thin, more liable to fall through in more places. Being lonely-no, individual helped her get a head-start in life. She still knew people, maybe in the wrong way, though. Mari noticed more than people gave her credit for, mostly in the time she spent by herself, tucked away.

Some people she was glad she didn't affiliate herself with.

Others, not so much.

Renji wasn't sure what to think of her.

He'd started a new page in class about the New Girl, as he'd done countless times before: Hikari Mari was her name. Rather unfortunate, he mused. According to her files, she was sixteen and had skipped seventh and eighth grade. That explains a lot, Renji thought, watching her at lunch sitting alone in a corner. Antisocial, skipping most of the crucial interpersonal growth years in adolescence.

She had a strange look in her eye, though. Every once in a while she'd glance up and around then look down again: it wasn't a shy habit like he thought for a little while...her gaze was too abrupt, too calculating to be coincidental. Renji stared at his untouched bento, troubled.

Mari had the eyes he didn't usually show.

Of course, tutoring her would be a completely other matter. He'd tutored many times before, him being a Dean's List student, dependable, efficient and all, but she didn't seem like one to favor help, especially not for school, and especially not from a stranger.

He pulled out his notebook and flipped to the right heading, jotting down a few extra notes before the next class began.

Song credits to Sara Bareilles' "Chasing the Sun"

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