A few words about Momoshiro. (Not quite a story but close enough for government work.)
It's the middle of summer and the sun hangs in the air like a ripe orange, only an orange that's so bright it will burn your eyes out if you look at it for too long. Momoshiro isn't very good with metaphors and, anyhow, he's hungry.
"You only come over here because my mother feeds you," Kaidoh says. His green bandana makes it look like he's got a turtle on his head or cabbage leaves for hair.
"I don't like cabbage," Momo says and snatches the bandana away. Kaidoh is supposed to grab for it so they can tussle for a few minutes but instead he looks at Momo with narrowed sleepy eyes and pushes his hair away from his forehead. It falls back almost right away.
They play cards until Kaidoh gets pissed off and throws Momo out.
"It's too hot to play," Momo says and Echizen just stares down at him until Momo peels himself off the grass and stumbles onto the court. Echizen's serve comes at him at a million miles per hour and Momo has a flashback to fourth grade and the baseball he took to the head in the big game against the fifth graders. They won the game but Momo had concussion. Also, he swallowed a bug in the second inning.
He swings at the ball and misses, strike one, but it's just too hot to care. He tries to remember what kind of bug it was.
"Play seriously," Echizen says. He serves again, a million and one miles per hour, and Momo wishes Echizen would just get interested in girls already.
"So come get it, if you want it so badly." Momo rings off and pulls the crumpled bandana out of his pocket. He wonders what he'd look like wearing it. But he doesn't want to spoil his hair.
When Kaidoh shows, Momo dangles the bandana in front of him, then yanks it away. Now Kaidoh does tackle him and they wrestle in the grass until Kaidoh has the bandana and Momo has grass stains on his knees.
"Fucking monkey," Kaidoh says. He ties the bandana around his forehead and they go to street tennis so Momo can beat the crap out of Kaidoh there too.
Kamio and Ibu are there and they play doubles instead. Momo smashes the ball, a million and ten miles per hour, and they win, of course, because they're Seigaku.
"Your serve is weak," Kaidoh says and drapes a towel around his neck.
"Takes one to know one," Momo says and watches Kaidoh jog away.
It's falling dark and the moon hangs in the air like a slice of melon, cold and juicy and sweet. Momo stretches, his hands reaching up to catch it, a yawn squeezing shut his eyes. Then he runs home to see if there are any leftovers from dinner.