Here's the epic fail part~ xD
_______
It was out, again.
You sighed with mild frustration, clutching your racket tighter in your fist. You huffed, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your sweaty face. Wow, you were rusty. Really, really rusty.
It had been a few weeks since seeing Seigaku's game against St. Rudolph—and, after seeing Fuji's amazing game against St. Rudolph's manager, (although it was an important match to you, you still hadn't bothered to remember the guy's name) you had been… inspired, as one could say, to pick up a racket and play again. Fuji was amazing; and, although you knew that there wasn't any way that you could ever be that good (for being at Fuji's level called for natural talent and practice; you had the latter, but your natural talent was more in soccer), there was a part of you that wanted to try.
You walked over to the other side of the court, picking up the balls that managed to make it past the net—which, much to you delight, was most of them. Although you were currently at a level where probably an amateur could beat you, you were getting better at a quick pace. It seemed as though that the more you practiced, the more your old skills came back to you. After collecting the seven balls that had sailed over the net into a nice, rather disorganized pile, you picked them up one by one and served them to the other side.
It was nice that you had the courts to yourself, but at the same time it was very disheartening. You had always thought that the best way to gain experience was with others—and even now you believed that that was the way to go. As you shuffled once again to the other side of the court (for probably the umpteenth time today), you let out a sigh and mentally berated yourself on not asking Kunimitsu to join you in your little practice session. You were going to, but at the last moment you had decided against it, thinking that he either didn't want to or that he deserved the rest. Both, in your mind, were very true, even though you couldn't state the former as a fact.
As you walked around towards the bench, you picked up your bottle of Pocari Sweat [1] and kicked at an idle tennis ball, watching as it rolled towards the back line. After taking a swig of the mildly weird tasting drink, you capped it and placed it down on the bench, not really caring how the bottle tipped over on its side.
You sauntered over to the formerly kicked tennis ball, staring morosely at it. It stared (that is, if you personified it) right back at you, its fuzzy surface not betraying any of its emotions. You blinked, shaking your head; and as you went to pick it up, you wondered mildly if you were going insane. Probably not, but you could amuse yourself with the thought.
The warm, fuzzy ball of rubber fit perfectly into your hand as you raised it up, tossing it lightly into the air. It sailed up, its climb seemingly interminable, yellow color contrasting with the clear, blue sky. Finally, it began to sail down, down, down; you waited until what you thought was a perfect height before smashing your racket hard into its side. A comfortable 'pok'ing sound was heard, and you let yourself smile; however, you smiled too early, for the next sound your heard was the swishing of it hitting the net. You watched, no smile on your face now, as it plunked into the net and dropped down, rolling to a stop close to your feet. You looked at it, mouth open, racket hanging at your side.
Again.
"You know, that was a pretty strong serve. If you just hit it a little sooner, your serve will probably turn out to be an ace."
Completely forgetting about the ball that was at your feet, you whipped your head around, surprised at hearing a new, eerily familiar voice. At the end of the tennis courts, walking up the last few steps, was a head of brown hair, closed eyes, kind smile that matched the kind voice…
"Fuji-kun!" you shouted, staying perfectly still as the boy finished his ascending and regarded you with closed eyes. He, after hearing his name being called in such a surprised manner, chuckled and nodded, lifting one hand out of his short's pockets to give you a one-wave greeting.
"Tezuka-chan," he said, soft, tranquil voice floating in the air towards you. Moving smoothly, the teen began to walk towards your bench with small, deliberate steps; you noticed that he was carrying his tennis bag over his shoulder.
You met him at the bench, placing your racket down just as he was setting down your bag. "It's nice to see you, Fuji-kun," you murmured, scratching the back of your head awkwardly. Fuji chuckled, amused, and you grinned. "Although," you added, "I must say that it is slightly surprising. What are you doing here?"
"I was actually on the way to your house, to go see Tezuka" was the simple reply you got. You nodded, realizing that that was the most probable answer, and Fuji continued. "However, on my way, I heard someone—you, now that I know—practicing. I got curious and decided to see who was practicing. Curiosity get the best of us, I suppose," mused Fuji, chuckling. You laughed along with him as you took another sip of the Pocari Sweat, tucking strands of hair behind your ears.
"That is true, I guess," you murmured, adding your two cents in.
"Indeed," remarked Fuji, and he tilted his head to the side to look at you through his bangs. "Now, Tezuka-chan," he said in a lilting tone, making you smile, "I would like to ask you the same question. What were you doing practicing."
"Oh." Cue the blush. You felt your face heat up immensely, and you began to tug on the tips of your hair out of nervous habit. You were embarrassed to tell him the truth—that he was the sole reason why you were practicing, that he had inspired you to become as great as him. You knew that it wasn't (and wouldn't be) such a big deal if you told the truth. In fact, Fuji might even be flattered. But there was a part of you that told you that it sounded just like one of those cheesy romance novels you used to catch Amy reading. And, although it was slightly true that you found Fuji attractive and whatnot, you didn't want to become like a character in a romance novel.
So, you lied.
Well, somewhat.
"Well… after seeing you guy's awesome game against St. Rudolph…," you began, scratching your cheek with one finger, "I was… motivated to… um… pick up tennis again. Not that I ever really lost it, though," you said, raising your hands up and shaking them. "I was just kind of rusty… Well, very rusty," you added as a side thought.
"Saa," murmured Fuji, his face not smiling. For a moment you thought that he saw through your excuse; but then he smiled again, getting up, and you knew that you really didn't have anything to worry about. You watched with keen curiosity as he laid his bag on its side, reaching over to grab the zipper. He pulled on it, opening the bag. You glanced up to him, confused, and he smiled when seeing your silent questioning. Reaching into the bag, he pulled one of his rackets, poking at the strings. He then addressed you with a simple question that sent your mind keeling.
"Well then. Tezuka-chan, would you like to have a match with me?"
"M…Me?" you asked, almost choking on the drink in your mouth. You coughed a few times, blinking rapidly. "Really?"
"Of course," teased Fuji, chuckling. "There's no one else here."
"But you know that it won't really be much of a challenge—playing a match with me, that it," you said. It almost sounded like you were pleading.
"That is okay. I'll go easy on you."
"Well…" You hesitated, looking off to the side. You knew that you hadn't a chance against Fuji, even if he was "going easy on you." But there was something that prevented you from saying no, even despite your mind saying that it was horrible idea. You knew that you shouldn't go against him, he was too strong, he'd beat you easily, he'd—"Okay."
"All right," said Fuji, walking to one end of the court. You took one last drink of the Pocari Sweat before setting it back down, quickly picking up your racket and heading to the other side. Fuji regarded you lightly; you regarded him with caution.
"Oh yes, that reminds me," Fuji said, straightening up from his stance. You relaxed as well, breaking out of your competitive mode with a confused look; Fuji grinned wider and spoke in a loud voice, "I'd like to do something if you don't mind, Tezuka-chan. Just to make things interesting."
"Sure…"
"I'd like to propose a bet, as to say." Fuji spoke lightly, but you tensed up again, not entirely liking how the conversation had already started. "Who ever wins can request the loser to do something—such as a favor. Is this okay with you?"
No, that wasn't okay.
It was madness.
You didn't want to accept it, you wouldn't, you couldn't, you—
"Okay."
"Great." Fuji opened his eyes, revealing sharp, sapphire orbs. Immediately, like instinct, you gripped your racket harder with both hands; your eyes tightened and the smile disappeared from your face. "Let's get started, then."
And the moment the ball left Fuji's hand was the moment the game was over.
__
It was no surprise that the game ended 6-0 with Fuji winning. No surprise at all.
You sighed, a smile now gracing your face, as you sat down on the bench with your friend, panting. You racket lay clumsily behind you, against the fence; you were covered in sweat from head to toe, your ponytail disheveled and messy. As you uncorked your sports drink, Fuji sat beside you. You looked at him; there was hardly any sweat on his body and he didn't seem to be huffing heavily, unlike you.
"Here," you said, fishing through your bag. You pulled out a small towel and another bottle of Pocari Sweat, the former being placed on your lap and the latter being given to Fuji. The genius gave a small "thanks" in return as he took the bottle from you, unscrewing it and taking small sips. As you guzzled down the rest of your drink, you dabbed your red face with the towel, grimacing at how damp you made it.
"It looks like you need this more than me," grinned Fuji, holding the bottle out to you. It was three-fourths full still, and you immediately grabbed it from him and chugged the rest of it down.
"Thanks," you said, sheepish. "Wow, Fuji-kun," you commented, looking at the smiling teen next to you, "that was going easy on me? I must say that that is a completely false statement."
Fuji knew that you were teasing, so he merely chuckled. You joined in after a second, glad to laugh. You hadn't been laughing as much as you usually did today—your rustiness at tennis had made you slightly discouraged. Your soprano chuckle, along with Fuji's alto one, created a strange but pleasant noise in the air. There was nothing sounding except for your laughter.
"So," you murmured, chortles dying down, "I assume that you have something that you'd like me do for you now?"
"Yes." The way Fuji spoke was different than normal, more serious. You blinked, confused, as the smile slipped from his face. But then, after another eye blink, it was back again, and he was looking at you kindly. "I was wondering if you would accompany me to a photography museum next Saturday."
_______
And that was how you ended up going on a date on Saturday with Fuji Syuusuke at Tokyo's photography museum.
It was strange, really—but of course, what wasn't strange? You couldn't exactly remember what or if there were reasons for you accepting his invitation. You didn't remember much of it, of that day. All you remembered doing was going home in a daze and calling Ayu and Chiyoko to come over. And you remembered how they (read: Ayu) squealed in delight.
You remembered asking the two girls why you said 'yes' without even thinking about it.
You remembered them telling them that it was because you liked him, whether you knew it or not.
And you remembered proclaiming that that wasn't the case.
But now, with him grasping your hand lightly to help you through a throng of people, you weren't sure if what you had so stubbornly insisted on was the case.
It was a pleasant day, starting off with him showing you his favorite pieces by some of the most talented photographers you had ever seen. You hadn't recognized most of them (for most of them were Japanese), but there were those few whose works you had seen before. Occasionally you would point to certain parts and observe with him the beauty of the photograph, although you really hadn't a clue about the art of photography.
After the museum, Fuji had taken you to a small café, where the two of you chatted pleasantly about miscellaneous things. You told him about why you were here, about Amy, and the promise you had given her about being in Japan for only a year. You told him about your old middle school, your old friends, and your own hometown. You told him about your grandfather being ill. And he told you the like with his family.
Then, finally, the two of you just roamed around for the day, going to various places in Tokyo that you found interesting. Fuji took you to one of his favorite planetariums; you took him to a flower garden that you fancied.
And just like that, the sun had set and the day turned into night.
"Thanks for today," you murmured, turning around to face the handsome tennis genius. The two of you were at the Tezuka family door, Fuji having walked you home. "I really enjoyed it."
"As did I, Tezuka-chan, as did I," agreed Fuji, nodding his head. He fiddled with the camera bag slung over his shoulder, toying with the zipper. "It was a good day. Thank you for agreeing to come with me."
"But that's natural." You grinned, offering a small wink. You looked at the camera bag in his hands and asked, "When the pictures come in, will you send me some?"
"Naturally," commented Fuji, mirroring your choice of words. "You would probably make a good model, Tezuka-chan," he complimented, making you blush. "All of the pictures I took of you turned out very nicely."
"Ha-ha, is that so?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. "Well then, maybe I will become a model."
"Saa."
And then the awkward silence ensued.
You bit your lip, glancing at Fuji from the corner of your eye. He wasn't staring at you—rather, he was staring up at the stars. The only sound in the air was the chirping of the summer crickets and the occasional car. You tugged at the hem of your shirt, and then, gathering your courage, looked up at him. He was looking at you this time; you blushed again, heavier than the last time, but did not break your gaze with his.
"Well then, I guess you need to go, yeah?" you asked. Fuji nodded, gazing at you through closed eyelids. Sometimes you really wondered if he could see you. Swallowing thickly, you raised your arms up and leaned into him, wrapping your arms around him. He was warm, his heartbeat beating normally, unlike yours. "Thanks… for everything."
You felt his thin arms wrap around your waist, squeezing you tightly. It surprised you, but there was nothing unpleasant about it. You allowed yourself to close your eyes, savoring the way his heart beat, the way his hair felt so smooth, the way he was so warm…
And just as quickly did you initiate it did the two of you break apart. You gave each other one last smile before Fuji walked down your driveway, giving you a kind wave before disappearing around the corner.
You let your eyes follow him until they could no longer, a smile gracing your face. Your hand went to rest on the doorknob, and your grin widened, shaking your head. Maybe, just maybe, Chiyoko and Ayu were right…
You didn't have anytime to think about it anymore, for the moment you turned the knob, your aunt opened it, nearly sending you flying backward. You squawked, flailing your arms in an attempt to regain your balance; and when you did, you turned to her with a frown. "Ayan—"
You immediately stopped your sentence upon seeing her red, blotched face. Fear coursed through you as stared at her, eyes wide. She swallowed thickly, brown eyes blazing, as her voice came out in a small croak.
"Your grandfather…"
That was all you needed to know.
_______
"Are you sure about this, Amy?"
Tezuka Kuniharu found himself asking the same question again, only this time it was under different circumstances.
Amy sighed on the other end of the line, a melancholy sound that was unpleasant to the ears. "Yes, Kuniharu," the voice over the phone said, "this time I am completely and utterly sure. I know that the loss of Kunikazu has been extremely hard on you all—I can definitely tell with Cindy, the last time I talked to her—and I believe that having her leave early might be the best thing to do."
At the mention of his late father, Kuniharu fell silent, the only sound being the birds chirping in the morning air. The light filtered through the shoji screens, and he felt as though he had to smirk. Today was so much like that morning not even two months ago, when they agreed that Cindy would stay with them.
"I do realize that she is happy there—trust me; when I told her what I wanted to do, she began to argue and complain. However, I really do think that this is best for all of us in the long run."
"It probably is," commented Kuniharu, nodding his head. It was inevitable that Cindy acted the way she did. "But I must agree with you. Besides, she knew that this would happen eventually." As Amy added her own two cents in ("Exactly what I thought."), Kuniharu flicked his eyes towards the upstairs, where Cindy was shut up in her room. He hadn't a clue as to what his niece was doing. A frown marred his face. "Are you sure?" he asked again.
There was some hesitation on the other line, but eventually Amy sighed and said, "Yes. I am."
A wry smile appeared on Kuniharu's face. "You miss her, don't you?"
"More than you know." The reply was immediate. "Although she isn't my child, it feels like she is. And it's weird not having her around. It's like a whole."
"I see." Kuniharu sighed, running a hand once again through his locks. "So it's decided?"
"…Yes."
"Does she already know about this?"
"Most likely. She's a smart kid, Kuniharu; after I told her that I wanted her back here, I'm sure she knew that it was going to happen."
"I see."
The two said their partings, and Kuniharu gently placed the phone down on the receiver. For a moment, he did nothing else—he just looked at the phone and its plastic exterior. Then, after what seemed like a while, he shifted his line of sight towards Cindy's door. It was closed, no sounds appearing from it.
Kuniharu sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked to the living room.
Living without her would make the house quieter.
_______
You really hated airports and airplanes now.
With a glum sigh, you shifted your carry-on bag from one side to the other, running a hand through your locks. From the large windows, you could see your plane rolling up—the plane that would take you back to America. Today was not a good day. This week really hadn't been a good one.
There was nothing more that you wanted to do then stay here in Japan with your friends and family. Sure, you missed Amy, but ever since living in Japan, you had grown attached to it and its culture. You loved the exotic food here, the Sakura petals, even the dreaded kanji. You loved all of it, and you didn't want to be separated from it.
You stared at the people who were seeing you off—your family, Chiyoko, Ayu, and Fuji. Looking at all of them made your eyes tear. You were going to miss them the most, even more than Japan. They were the whole reason as to why your stay in Japan was pleasant.
Your flight number was called, and you turned towards them. Your eyes were now clouded with tears, and from what you could see through, Ayana and Ayu were the only ones crying. You smiled, pursing your lips tightly in order to not let them quiver. "Well," you said, voice completely revealing your pathetic attempt at a calm façade, "I guess… it's time for me to say goodbye, hm?"
The first people you said goodbye too was your immediate family. Ayana sobbed while grabbing you in a tight hug; Kuniharu gave you an awkward pat on the shoulder when you squeezed him; and Kunimitsu nodded at you (only, of course, to be pulled into a hug; he, like his father, gave you an awkward pat on the shoulder).
Ayu and Chiyoko were next, and by then you had dried up all your tears. Ayu was still crying—sobbing, actually—while squeezing the life out of you, and Chiyoko had enough sense to pull the dark-haired girl away from you before she broke any ribs. After Ayu's strange departure, you and Chiyoko shared a hug; Chiyoko, afterwards, gave you a slip of paper, explaining that it had both her and Ayu's e-mail and address on it.
And then, finally, came the goodbye with Fuji.
"Well…" you murmured, looking at your hands. "I… I guess this is goodbye, huh?"
"I guess it is."
You swallowed thickly. Fuji was the hardest person to say goodbye too. You didn't know why—maybe it was because of the date? Or maybe it was because he was one of your closer friends. You didn't know.
As just with the date, you looked up at him shyly. And, just as it was with the date, he was looking at you. You smiled, a small, sad smile, and raised your hands up. "Can I get a hug…?" you asked weakly.
Fuji smiled wider and he pulled you into a warm hug. You allowed your eyes to tear up just the slightest as you buried your head into his shoulder. He was always so warm. Quickly, you placed a light peck on his cheek as he pulled away, not letting go of your hands. His eyes were open, and this time you could admire the brilliant color that they were.
"How long will you be gone?" he asked, and although he had a mask up, you could see conflict in his eyes. You offered him a grin, knowing that, for once, you could answer his question.
"Only for a year, Fuji-kun. Only for a year."
_______
End If Only For a Year
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[1] Pocari Sweat is a popular sports/soft drink in Japan. I obtained a bottle of it once, and boy—it's… interesting. xD Anyway, Eiji's actually seen drinking this in one of the manga chapters… I think during his match with St. Rudolph? I can't really remember…
Haa… I'm really sorry about the date down. >_>; It is EPIC FAIL. I was running out of time, creativity, and word length…
Anyway, I hope it was okay! To EverStar, I'm really sorry it took me forever to get this up. ^^; I hope I didn't kill your character.
Thanks for reading~ I wonder what's up with me, Fuji, and word length. >_> Every time I write for him, it ends up being 10,000 words long. Jeez~
