I'm Not That Girl // Prince of Tennis

Chapter 3: Welcome to Shitenhouji

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed the previous chapter. I apologize for taking so long to update. I was stuck midway writing this chapter and it was a really bad writer's block so I didn't write again until I found the inspiration to finish up this chapter. I know I mentioned I would be on hiatus but I managed to find some time to finish this up so I did as you can see.

Anyway before you start reading, I would like to apologize for any error you spotted. I haven't had time to proofread it properly. I'm also sorry if you find the characters OOC, I'm still trying to do some character development slowly. As for the OCs, all I can say now is to give them a chance, I intend to do character development slowly so that it's more realistic and hopefully, relatable.

Disclaimer: For the fourth time, Prince of Tennis does not belong to me. Only the OCs and the plot.

....

Just how did she land up in this situation again? And what was with this horrible sense of déjà vu?

All traces of common sense she possessed had apparently flown out the window while she was lost in the memories of their younger years.

She had completely forgotten what it meant to be sitting at the 'popular' table, forgotten who Shiraishi was and most importantly, the classic high school hierarchy and its unspoken rules. One does not simply walk over to the 'popular' table and plop down on one of its seats as if they were part of the people there.

Arguably, it was still her first day here and she hadn't really grasped the fact that the Shitenhouji tennis team was ridiculously popular with the students. But being on the receiving end of harsh whisperings and judging gazes had quickly taught her that fact.

Well, the tennis team at Hyotei was also ridiculously popular but she had always thought that Hyotei was kind of weird anyway. Like, what kind of school has a wall-sized banner of their tennis team hanging from the foyer?

She got a shock on her first day of school when she entered the foyer and found herself staring at the gleaming smirk of poster Atobe Keigo, and it gave her nightmares that night of a gigantic Atobe head chasing after her among a sea of bouncing tennis balls.

Shizue let out a silent sigh as she gazed around, feeling a little lost.

At the crowded table filled with the most popular boys in school, she never felt more out of place.

....  

Shizue fought the urge to squirm in her seat, feeling uncomfortably self-conscious under the curious stares of the seven people seated in the same table as her, even as Shiraishi started the introductions.

She was vaguely aware that she had subconsciously shifted into what her Hyotei trackmates like to jokingly term as her 'attack mode' – arms locked tightly by her sides, her back rimrod straight, and staring down blankly at her opponents as she strikes fear into their hearts, and leave them quaking in their boots. Her trackmates always did have a vivid imagination.

She forced herself to relax her posture as she stared steadily back at the regulars who were staring at her as if she was the most fascinating thing in the vicinity.

When she sat down, she heard one of the regulars with messy brown hair ("Oshitari Kenya," her mind supplied helpfully) murmur to his companion ("Chitose Senri") "When was the last time Shiraishi brought a girl to the table?"

The latter shrugged absentmindedly but Shizue noticed that he was eyeing her contemplatively as Shiraishi continued introducing the regulars to her.

They fired off questions one after the other, much to Shiraishi's amusement and her bewilderment.

"Ooh, were you on a sports team in Hyotei?"