Fuji/Tezuka. Tezuka tells Fuji on the roof of the school, that he's going to Germany, before anyone else, and Fuji thinks about himself, Tezuka and Echizen in terms of tennis. Prompt number: 003. The effect of impact on stationary objects. First person narrative.
-
"I'll be in my best condition," he says, light conversation that betrays nothing, "able to play against whomever."
A gunshot; a bullet, right to the gut, that's how it feels. I have to physically keep myself from doubling over, a monumentous flinch is all I give away. All.
"With whomever?" I wait; daring him to discard the words, wanting to pluck them out of the air as they unravel and discard them myself. He does not.
But that is Tezuka; his pride prevents him from changing his mind once he has made a decision, even if later he discerns it is the wrong one. He always has to have something to believe in.
"I see." I say, to fill the silence. I say the only thing I can, pulling my own trigger this time. "I'm looking forward to it."
"I'm going to play Echizen before I leave." Tezuka says, after what feels like a silence of forever. I understand his reasoning; Echizen improves out of frustration after all. For Tezuka to leave him with a loss hanging over his head, one he cannot claim back for months... It will drive him.
"He's impatient." I reply simply. I can wait, I have to wait; Tezuka will give me nothing less than the best. It's comforting to know. It's also amusing to think that Tezuka gives Echizen little pieces, but never the whole. And people wonder why I don't feel threatened by Tezuka's obsession with him. He's preparing Echizen to support the team after we're gone. He's cultivating while he has the chance, and then he's going to walk away and let Echizen blossom. Maybe only real gardeners would understand it. We will continue on together, always, I like to hope. I guess we'll have to wait and see now.
no subject
-
"I'll be in my best condition," he says, light conversation that betrays nothing, "able to play against whomever."
A gunshot; a bullet, right to the gut, that's how it feels. I have to physically keep myself from doubling over, a monumentous flinch is all I give away. All.
"With whomever?" I wait; daring him to discard the words, wanting to pluck them out of the air as they unravel and discard them myself. He does not.
But that is Tezuka; his pride prevents him from changing his mind once he has made a decision, even if later he discerns it is the wrong one. He always has to have something to believe in.
"I see." I say, to fill the silence. I say the only thing I can, pulling my own trigger this time. "I'm looking forward to it."
"I'm going to play Echizen before I leave." Tezuka says, after what feels like a silence of forever. I understand his reasoning; Echizen improves out of frustration after all. For Tezuka to leave him with a loss hanging over his head, one he cannot claim back for months... It will drive him.
"He's impatient." I reply simply. I can wait, I have to wait; Tezuka will give me nothing less than the best. It's comforting to know. It's also amusing to think that Tezuka gives Echizen little pieces, but never the whole. And people wonder why I don't feel threatened by Tezuka's obsession with him. He's preparing Echizen to support the team after we're gone. He's cultivating while he has the chance, and then he's going to walk away and let Echizen blossom. Maybe only real gardeners would understand it. We will continue on together, always, I like to hope. I guess we'll have to wait and see now.
-