Illogical

sighed as she finished wiping her face clean. She had just come back from practice. She turned back and looked at the elegant young man twirling his hair, a presence she had to endure for some days now. And what agonizing days they were.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Mizuki? You shouldn't take data on my players!" Her face looked stiff, surprisingly, for a girl who took her time freshening up.

Mizuki Hajime smirked, his gaze following the figure of the willowy girl, clearly enjoying the way she was now walking back and forth the room. "I am St. Rudolph's tennis team manager, and as such, it is my right --"

"Yes, you are St. Rudolph's BOYS' tennis team manager. No one will argue with that. HOWEVER," declared with much emphasis –

"However?"

"I see no reason why you have to take your data-collecting skills to a different level. In this case, collecting my team's data. I'm warning you, Mizuki. This will be the last time you rattle my players' wits, the last time you try my patience. We have a team to train!" She said, taking her bulky sports bag, leaving Mizuki lazily trailing after her. She walked fast.

Mizuki smirked again. This game was almost as good as tennis.

**********

, captain of the St. Rudolph's girls' tennis team was walking hurriedly. Muttering angrily as her feet alternately touched earth. Shaking it off. Seething.

Ah, the slow burn of a silent rampage.

She, considered to be one of the best female players in the junior league, with popular tennis schools vying for her attention, reduced to utter, hopeless frustration! If not for her Catholic faith, she wouldn't have been at St. Rudolph's in the first place! Yet learning about her religion did not keep her preoccupied these days. Nor was the tennis captainship taking its weary toll. Who did Mizuki Hajime – data-collecting genius, he may be – who did he think he was?

She had been doing well for the past few weeks as team captain. Her teammates were cooperative and did not hesitate to suggest strategies, or train more than what was the usual fare. She knew that they had a very good chance the upcoming competitions, perhaps even win the cup. But then came Mizuki, with a presence so disconcerting that it managed to rattle her team's efforts. And her concentration.

Why did he even care, anyway? He's never meddled with the girls' team before. Surely, their techniques were not so awe-inspiring that he just had to take it down. The smirks more than accounted for that fact.

Argh. That annoying smirk of his. And the hair-twirling! What was she to make of that? He was either too cool or too gay. Either way, his habits made everything more agitating.

"-senpai!" looked up to see a boy with an X-shaped scar on his forehead walking towards her. All thoughts of Mizuki temporarily forgotten, she smiled.

"Yuuta-kun."

"Are you okay? You look a bit lost in thought," he asked. Is there something bothering you?"

"Yes, no, yes, I'm doing okay." So much for not thinking of him. The grimace was back on her face. "I'm just a little worried about the upcoming district games. Only two weeks more, you know." A forced smile was on her face. Think, she must think of something to end this madness. "I have to go now. See you later!"

Yuuta waved at the shadow of his retreating schoolmate, then went to his dormitory room where some of his teammates were preparing their dinner for the night.

**********

"Mizuki-san, did you try to collect the girls' data again?" Fuji Yuuta was shaking his head, as he chucked a mango pudding at Mizuki after dinner. Most of their team mates were sitting on the lounge, some reading and talking. The district meet was about to start in a few weeks, and they were glad that they were able to rest even for a short while.

Mizuki himself had his legs up one arm of a sofa, twirling his hair and the ever-present smirk dangling on his lips. "I was supposed to, but -san interrupted me."

Akazawa Yoshirou, as he may have deemed it the current fashion, interrupted as well. "But you're not supposed to collect their data! Obviously she's pissed off. It's not as if it's ever gonna be useful to us."

"That's right, da ne. Why are you so bent on watching the girls' skirts, uh, the girls' team, da ne?" Yanagisawa Shinya playfully asked. The question earned another chuck of mango pudding from Yuuta, right in Yanagisawa's face.

Mizuki was about to reply when Nomura Takuya and Kaneda Ichirou chorused, "Maybe Mizuki-san likes -san!"

Everyone turned their heads to Mizuki, who, for the first time, looked embarrassed.

Kisarazu Atsushi giggled, "It's true then! Well, can't blame the guy for trying." He wiggled his eyebrows. "-san is a very talented… tennis player."

"Chigaimasu." Mizuki's flushed, ignoring the innuendo and unsuccessfully trying to gain back his almost world-renowned composure. "It is true, the girls' team is really good. Maybe if I collect their data, we can apply some of their techniques to our game, right?"

"But you really don't have to stalk, err, spy on them, Mizuki-san," Yuuta answered, taking up Yanagisawa's tone. He added, more seriously this time, "Why not ask -senpai herself if you want information?" The others nodded in unison.

Mizuki was flustered, and retorted defensively, "I've never had complaints of my data-collecting before. It's already helped our team in the past. This is how it's gonna be and just has to suck it up."

He left the lounge room.

"You know what," Akazawa said to his teammates, "While Mizuki is a very bright guy, he can be very stupid about the matters of the heart." With that said, Azakawa and the rest of the boys' smiled and moved on to talk about other things before going to their respective rooms.

**********

Mizuki was under a tall tree, enjoying the shade and the warm breeze, while typing information to his own iBook. He could still remember last night when his teammates hinted that his feelings for were more than scholarly and professional. Feelings, he scoffed. What a stupid idea. He kept muttering to himself while he pressed the keys. Almost unconsciously, his cursor strayed to the "ST. RUDOLPH" folder and clicked the "FEMALE" subfolder. The mouse pointer clicked to a particular file and in a matter of seconds, 's profile was prominently displayed on the monitor.

He carefully scrutinized her data. 15 years old, father was a diplomat, and more or less a trophy wife for a mother. He smiled, wondering how different mother and daughter must be. Her file included her hobbies (eating natto, archery, and karaoke). He even listed the names of 's five pets. He didn't really even have to look at his iBook to remember. Suddenly, it dawned on him. He had been reading 's file every single day! He had already committed the names of her dogs by heart, for Pete's sake. What was happening to him?

He sighed. This was not something he could not understand. This game, though thoroughly fascinating, was just beyond his ken. The rules of tennis were strict and simple, and even in its most complex, he had known all the tricks. He collected them.

But for this… He closed the iBook and pretended to lazily study the courts. The girls were practicing today, and his own complicated trickster was just right there, gesturing to her teammates and swinging her hands, no doubt demonstrating a difficult stroke. He sighed for the second time.

This game was getting a little complicated.

**********

was in the process of teaching a new recruit how to swing her racquet easily when she saw Mizuki gracefully slumped under the tree in front of the girls' tennis courts. She frowned. Mizuki had his iBook – closed. And to her confused amazement, he was not taking down notes.

She actually thought Mizuki was a very decent kind of guy. The data-collecting hobby, however, did not appeal to her very much. She didn't like the idea of a person basing everything on observation, on only what the environment had to offer. Where was a person's place in all of it? Where was Mizuki's?

She knew that outside information was really important, but combined with inner passion, self-innovation, and the desire to improve on these every single day, would prove to be more synergistic. She felt that basing all the games through data was not necessarily a sign of weakness, but potentially detrimental for a sport that constantly evolved to excellence. Now how she be able to tell this to Mizuki, she didn't know.

Just admit it, there's something else you may want to say, too.

She ignored the thought. For now, Mizuki can do what he wants (unless it was data-collecting on them again, of course). Things will unfold in due time.

**********

The girls' team finished their practice and was about to leave when she passed by Mizuki, who was still there at the tree. Mizuki was sleeping; his head was arched to the slight depression of the tree's trunk, his iBook inside his bag, and his notebook placed ever so neatly on his lap.

It was strange, seeing Mizuki like this. He never let his guard down. Where was the annoying smirk threatening chaos in her thoughts? Drops of perspiration were on his forehead.

She took a clean towel from her bag and gently ran the soft material on his face. She did it very slowly, fearing, she might wake him up. So slowly that she couldn't help but stare and marvel, as one would at the presence of a dozing angel.

Mizuki blinked. was in front of him, holding a towel, looking somewhat dazed. She was roused from the trance, not so unlike what Mizuki was experiencing before, when she saw he was awake. She stood abruptly.

"I-I saw you sleeping and you were sweating so I… well, obviously, you know what this is." She showed him the towel, looking sheepish, the grimace somehow looking sweet on her face. At least, it looked that way to Mizuki.

The truth was that the sun was setting down, and her face boldly resembled its glow.

"N-No, that's fine." Mizuki said, thinking of things to say, something dashing, something wicked, something to change the serenity of the scene. Words had to be said heatedly. He was supposed to smirk and she was supposed to yell and walk away fast. That used to be the way it was with them.

"Thank you."

"Oh."

handed the towel, and added faintly, "Here."

The red on her cheeks faded to pink now. And to Mizuki's surprise, a smirk not unlike his own hinted on her lips.

"It's clean, don't worry." said. "Never let it be noted," she pointedly glanced to his notebook, "that is unsanitary."

Mizuki smiled. One looking so real, and so strange on his face, but he smiled.

This definitely wasn't tennis, was it? This game of illogic, where tricks were useless, and rules disobeyed. This felt great.

"Sit with me."

It was time for the play.

##########

April 06, 2006
Written and edited by Megane-ko & linchpin