Second to None

epilogue (ii)

The sports section of the newspaper reported Tezuka's victory a day later, as not only the U.S. Open champion but this year's Grand Slam champion.

He was twenty-eight, one of the youngest winners on record. The feature photo was shot against the stunning green grass and blue skies of the Flushing Meadows in mid-afternoon. Seemingly captured right after his last match, Tezuka still held his white Mizuno racket and his hair was half-matted to his forehead. He looked straight into the camera but wasn't smiling, as if hinting that his work didn't end at the Grand Slam title.

When Mayu finished reading the article, she went online to read up on his performance in the past year. Everywhere she saw praises, from his critics and opponents alike. There was, however, no mention of Ryoma. It was uncertain whether he'd participated in the tournaments at all.

Leaning back in her chair, Mayu thought with a bittersweet smile that they each got what they deserved. Thinking that, she shut down her computer and packed up to go home. At the reception, she stopped to check if there were any last-minute mails or packages for the office.

"No packages, Miss Ohara," said the burly concierge, "only a man."

Mayu blinked. "What?"

"I said, somebody's here for you. He's been waiting a while now."

"Why didn't you call me? You had my extension!"

"He specifically asked me not to ring you and simply tell you he's here when you got down."

Suddenly, Mayu was afraid that a nasty reporter was waiting to pounce on her with an interrogation. With a severe look, she said, "How could you have let a stranger loiter for so long? This man could be anybody!"

"I can assure you he's not." Looking past her shoulders, the concierge grinned, "Here he comes. You can see for yourself."

Mayu whipped around. Behind her stood Tezuka wearing a white shirt and dark blue trousers. When they saw each other, she thought she heard the dull collapse of her heart. In a flood of people leaving work, many heads turned when they noticed that a celebrity athlete was in their building lobby. When Tezuka didn't pay them any mind, Mayu suddenly felt very seen.

"Long time no see, Mayu," he said.

She nodded.

"Do you have a minute to spare?"

She nodded and followed him out into the streets. With summer already gone, a subtle chill infused the evening breeze. Tezuka walked ahead for several blocks until reaching a parkette tucked between skyscrapers. The setting sun bounced off glass panes, reflected off the opposite building and lit the patch of sky above it white.

He stopped under a maple tree, and she did too, keeping several paces away. When he turned around, her eyes couldn't help but wander out to the streets, afraid the ache she spent years trying not to feel would return.

Tezuka seemed not to notice her struggle as he spoke, "I wanted to come and thank you for the flowers."

She bit the inside of her cheeks. "What are you talking about?"

"Emily—the flower girl—told me everything," he said. "You might not have given her your name, but she's an eloquent girl. I knew from her descriptions that 'my biggest fan who didn't like like me' was you." After a short pause, he added, "I think she was relieved that I asked. I had a feeling she was dying to tell me about you."

"What made you think so?"

"She said you seemed sad when you said I was your old friend."