[FIC] The Swallow
Jul. 23rd, 2009 01:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pergamondWhen someone finds a story line you wrote distressing what do you do? Make them editor and force them to do repeated rereads, of course! It's cognitive therapy at its best. Overflowing buckets of thanks to ad_exia for the help in this re-write of my Tenipuri fic. I am rewarding her in toilet rolls. (Seriously, she'll love it).
Synopsis: Fuji had more reason than anyone to resent Echizen.
The Swallow
Fuji Shuusuke stood on the cherry blossom strewn pavement by the gates of Seishin Gakuen looking through the iron bars at the tall clock tower than dominated the school’s grounds. As he watched, the hands swung to align vertically upwards and chimes echoed through the corridors and classrooms. It was noon and Saturday’s classes were at an end.
Minutes later, the school doors flew open and students started to pour across the tarmac towards the gates. Boys all in black, their jackets buttoned to their chins, girls with identical coats covering green sailor uniforms. It was mid-April but the day was crisp. Fuji felt nostalgia wash over him as a group of boys reached the gate with tennis bags slung over their shoulder. They could have been him and his friends just over one year ago. Fuji couldn’t decide whether it felt much longer or shorter than that. His eyes, hidden as usual in his smiling face, raked the hoards of people as they passed him. He was looking for somebody.
While the notice on the door declared it closed, Kawamura Sushi was clearly bustling with people that Saturday night. Ignoring the sign, Fuji pushed open the door and stepped out of the cool night air to be enveloped by the warmth and light of the noisy restaurant. His appearance was greeted by cries of welcome but he had barely taken two steps into the crowded room when he was tackled side-on and knocked back against the door. Blinking, he found his view obstructed by a mass of fiery red locks.
“Fujiko!” his attacker cried, hugging his friend. “You’re late!”
“Gomen, Eiji,” Fuji said, his voice sounding muffled through the other boy’s hair.
Kikumaru Eiji half disentangled himself to view Fuji accusingly. “Today isn’t a day to be late!” he exclaimed. “There’s too much to celebrate!”
Now that he was allowed to see his ambusher clearly, Fuji was able to admire the new dark blue shirt with red trimming Eiji was sporting: the colours belonging to the regular players in their High School’s tennis team. “You look good,” he said approvingly.
Eiji flapped a hand in dismissal. “You’ve been wearing one for a year now,” he pointed out. “Both you and Tezuka.” His eyes roved the room until he spotted the person in question leaning against the far end of the sushi bar. Fuji followed his gaze to see Seigaku’s former captain studying the contents of his tea cup as a tall spectacled boy next to him talked earnestly, holding an open notebook.
“Say Fuji,” Eiji bounced on the balls of his feet, squeezing his friend tight again. “Isn’t it great Tezuka’s vice-captain this year? It’s just like old times!” His face grew briefly thoughtful. “Perhaps we should usurp Saitoh-buchou now and make Tezuka full captain.”
“Eiji,” Fuji had to laugh at his friend’s enthusiasm. “have patience.” Between Eiji’s renewed bounces, he saw a raven haired boy excuse himself from the table nearest them and walk over, smiling his greeting.
“Are you going to let poor Fuji sit, Eiji?” the newcomer asked, laying a hand gently on the red head’s shoulder. Fuji saw that he too wore the blue and red regular jersey.
“Congratulations, Oishi,” he said, nodding at the shirt.
Oishi smiled his thanks. “Inui too, did you see?” he asked, looking over to the figure talking to Tezuka. “And Momo and Kaidoh have finally joined us this year from Seigaku.” He half-turned to glance across at two people who seemed to be in an angry debate surrounding a lone sushi roll sitting on the plate between them.
“Mou,” Eiji had followed his gaze and, finally disengaging himself from Fuji, he walked over to their table.
Oishi watched him go and then turned back to Fuji, a small frown creasing his forehead. “Is everything okay, Fuji?” he asked in a quieter voice. “You left straight after your game today.”
Fuji opened his mouth to reply, but his words were drowned by a particularly furious outburst from the table beside them. “You ate that whole plate, baka mamushi!” Momo’s voice cut through the restaurant as he glared at Kaidoh. “The last piece is mine!”
“What did you call me?!” Kaidoh hissed.
“B-A-K...”
Unnoticed by either, Eiji leaned forward across the table and picked up the offending piece of sushi, popping it into his mouth with a satisfied grin. Tearing his eyes away from this amusing scene, Fuji focussed back on Oishi. “Gomen, Oishi,” he said. “I am fine. I decided to visit Seigaku.”
Oishi’s green eyes widened in surprise. “Ah, I see,” he said. “Did you see Echizen?” he named the only other member of their old team not currently in High School.
Fuji shook his head. “I looked but didn’t see him,” he said.
Still chewing cheerfully, Eiji bounced back over to them throwing an arm round each of his friends. Then he frowned and swallowed. “Why have you still got your coat on?” he demanded of Fuji. “And why aren’t you eating anything?”
Almost all of the students had left before Fuji saw him. As the sea of black coats thinned around the gates, he was able to make out a lone figure, tennis bag over his shoulder, walking towards the exit from the direction of the tennis courts. His white cap was pulled low over his eyes and he was ignoring the shouts of a brown haired boy who was sprinting after him.
“Hey Echizen! Echizen!” the other boy caught up to him, gesticulating madly as he talked. His enthusiastic speech went unheeded as the first boy continued towards the school gates, eyes focussed straight ahead. Fuji stepped back slightly, allowing the school’s outer wall to hide him from the view.
“Put me against Katsuo in the ranking tournament then!” the brown haired boy was demanding. “I can prove it! I have had four years tennis experience after all.”
“Usu.” came the uninterested reply.
Seemingly satisfied that this was as good as he was going to get, the other boy fell back muttering before turning to jog away towards the school. The first boy continued walking to the gate and only when he was almost level with Fuji did he look up.
He had grown in that intervening year since Fuji had last seen him, but he was still slight of frame and roughly half a head shorter than Fuji himself. The boy’s large almond-shaped eyes widened further in surprise as he recognised the person before him and came to a halt.
“Fuji-senpai,” said Echizen Ryoma.
Slam. The sharp knife came down with pinpoint precision on the chopping board, slicing the roll neatly in two. Flipping it expertly onto a plate, Kawamura Takashi pushed the dish across the bar to his friend.
Fuji obediently picked up one of the rolls in his chopsticks and put it in his mouth. The sharp stinging flavour of wasabi filled his throat and nose and he hummed in pleasure. “You get better every day, Taka,” he said.
Taka coloured slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve still got a long way to go,” he insisted.
“That he does,” called Taka’s father from the opposite end of the sushi bar, but there was pride in his eyes as he glanced over at his son.
Taka walked round the side of the bar carrying a second plate of sushi. He pulled himself onto a stool beside Fuji, placing the dish delicately between them. “You look well, Fuji,” he remarked, gesturing for him to help himself to the fresh rolls.
Fuji looked around the room as he took a second roll, indicating his thanks to Taka. It was impossible not to feel happy here tonight. The whole room was filled with excited chatter, mainly directed at the prospects of the tennis team in this year’s tournaments. It has been like this at the start of their second year at Seigaku too, with a talented team consisting of players who were more than just teammates. That was the year he and Tezuka had been in the same class and the world seemed to revolve around the two of them: Seigaku’s tennis legends.
He chewed thoughtfully, his eyes automatically travelling to where Tezuka stood with Inui. Inui seemed to have moved onto discussing the contents of his fifth notebook; there was a stack of used material beside him.
Everyone had looked up to Tezuka at Seigaku and Fuji had been no exception. Yet his own elusive nature and skill on the courts also kept Tezuka attentive to him, if only because he would rather know where Fuji was than not. That was until Echizen had arrived. Fuji’s chopsticks slipped, breaking the delicate roll into two.
“Do you miss playing?” Fuji asked, turning back to Taka. “You could have made the regulars too this year.”
Taka’s eyes also took in the room, lingering on each of his smiling friends before watching Eiji try to console Kaidoh by force-feeding him another piece of sushi.
“I do,” he admitted honestly. “but I don’t regret my decision. I couldn’t have played tennis at the level we did before and trained as a sushi chef, and I wouldn’t want to take a regular spot and not give it 100%.”
Fuji looked at Taka seriously, his cerulean blue eyes studying his friend’s gentle features. There was a look of firm commitment in Taka’s eyes that overrode the longing that flashed by as he listened to Momo and Kaidoh start a fresh argument about who would wear the regular jersey next. It was not easy going after goals, Fuji thought. Sacrifices always had to be made.
“What about you, Fuji?” Taka asked him. “Are you going to try for the professional tennis circuit with Tezuka? Or maybe sell your photographs of him taking it by storm?”
Fuji chuckled appreciatively. “I thought to try going pro,” he admitted. “but take my camera incase Tezuka knocks me out early in the Grand Slam tournaments.”
Taka laughed heartedly and picked up Fuji’s empty plate, ducking behind the bar to refill it. Across the room Tezuka glanced up, catching Fuji’s eye for a fraction of a second. It was a cry for help. Fuji considered it.
“I’ll go pro,” he thought. “I’ll go pro... with you.”
Fuji lifted a hand in greeting as Echizen stopped before him.
“Fuji-senpai,” Echizen said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I was wondering how Seigaku was,” Fuji told him. “Are you busy? I was thinking it would be nice to get outside the city and see the last of the cherry blossoms.”
The shorter boy blinked and then shrugged. “Sure, Fuji-senpai,” he said and turned, walking briskly in the direction of the train station.
Fuji shook his head in amusement and then strode to catch up. They walked in silence to the station, heading for the opposite side to where most of the Seigaku students had gathered. Fuji walked to the deserted far end of the platform, where a lone bench was positioned by a half empty drinks machine. The wind whipped off the station’s end and Echizen kept a hand to the brim of his cap and he considered the contents of the vending machine.
“The station by the park is short,” Fuji explained, pushing a 100 yen coin into the machine. “We need to be in the front carriage.”
Echizen pressed a button and with a clatter the familiar purple and white can fell into the open trough below. He leaned over to grab it. “Thanks, Fuji-senpai,” he said.
Fuji smiled. “My pleasure.”
“How much time do you think our new vice-captain spends on his hair?” Momo had walked over to where Fuji and Taka sat and propped himself against the bar beside them.
“What?” Taka looked at him blankly but Fuji turned to where Tezuka still stood examining the dregs of his tea cup. From this angle, it was impossible to catch a view of his face, but his golden brown hair had its usual stylishly ruffled appearance. It occurred to Fuji that this was a look many people would spend hours a day to achieve.
“Why don’t you ask him?” he suggested to Momo.
Momo’s eyebrows lifted as the idea took hold. He straightened, “Do you think I should?” he asked as he took a step in Tezuka’s direction. He was prevented moving further by Taka’s hand reaching out and catching his arm.
“Not one of Fuji’s to-do suggestions,” Taka said seriously.
Fuji sighed inwardly. He would have enjoyed the resulting conversation had Momo proceeded. Fuji had never thought Tezuka would care overly about his appearance, but it would not be the first time he had underestimated his buchou’s interests. Fuji remembered joining Tezuka in their third year as he stood looking out of the upstairs classroom window at the small white capped figure below. He had realised then that Tezuka had an ambition he had never known about; the desire to leave Seigaku to a captain who was as good, no, better than, he was himself. Tezuka had not wanted his work in helping Seigaku achieve a national standard tennis team to die when he graduated. He meant it to be a building block in the school’s future. It was a dream that Fuji was not part of. For the first time since they started Seigaku, Tezuka walked away without realising Fuji was there.
Momo’s eyes had fallen on the plate of sushi beside Fuji. “Hey, Fuji!” he said. “What are you keeping to yourself, eh?” He reached forward before Taka could stop him and popped the biggest piece into his mouth. Fuji watched with interest as Momo chewed gleefully before shock appeared on his face. He choked, hands grasping for the water jug Taka had resignedly got ready for him.
“Really, you should know better by now,” Taka reprimanded. “That’s such a waste of good sushi.”
“Been .... year,” gasped Momo between gulps of water. “... forgot...”
“Fssssh. Serves you right,” Kaidoh muttered him as he passed on his way to talk to Inui.
Momo thrust the empty water jug into Kaidoh’s chest. “What was that, baka?” he demanded.
Taka sighed, his expression that of long-suffering amusement. “They’re back,” he commented. He looked over at Fuji who had decided that he ought to finish the wasabi sushi for the sake of his friends. “You are the only person I’ve ever met who likes that,” he told him. “and we must have had hundreds of customers in here. Honestly, Fuji, I think you could tolerate anything!”
Fuji’s thoughts drifted back to this third year at Seigaku, to the lonely boy left standing by the window. “Not anything,” he said.
The train rattled to a halt, sending loose leaves and blossom rocketing back from the platform’s edge. The doors slid open and Fuji and Echizen stepped aboard. Two girls, giggling madly over the contents of a cell phone message leaped into the same carriage and stood huddled at the other end, their eyes fixed on the small rectangular screen. Echizen pulled his cap down lower over his eyes and looked disgusted.
“How are you finding being captain?” Fuji asked as they took their seats.
Echizen shrugged, “It’s all right,” he said.
Fuji thought back to the conversation he had witnessed by the school gates. “Inter-school ranking tournament approaching?” he asked. “I saw you talking to Horio. He wants to play Katsuo?”
Echizen scowled, tugging at his cap again. “It’ll make no difference.”
Fuji suppressed a chuckled at the irritation in Echizen’s voice. “He’ll lose?” he guessed.
“If it goes to seven games it’ll be a first.”
“I see.”
The train rolled out of the main city and houses became dispersed by fields of crops. The girls travelled only two stops before running from the train, still gossiping in overly loud whispers. Station by station, the remaining passengers emptied out until they were the only people Fuji could see as he squinted down through the carriages. The park he had in mind was by the very last station on this line.
“Fujiko!” Eiji cried joyfully and Fuji walked over to the table he and Oishi were sitting at, bringing with him a fresh plate of sushi Taka had just prepared. Oishi moved over to allow Fuji room to kneel down beside him, eyeing the plate cautiously.
“Eel,” said Fuji, catching his look. “and tuna.”
“Ah!” Oishi looked relieved as he moved forward to pick up a roll in his chopsticks. Opposite him, Eiji used his fingers.
“I was contemplating a rescue mission,” Fuji told Oishi.
Oishi stopped chewing, a look of concern crossing his face.
“Tezuka,” Fuji explained.
Oishi’s eyes swiveled to look in Tezuka and Inui’s direction. He finished chewing and swallowed. “That’s what, ten books he’s gone through?” he said, scanning the pile of volumes Inui was discarding beside him. “How many do you think he’s got from one year of data?”
“Taka said something about Inui carrying a box,” Fuji remarked serenely.
Oishi eyes widened and he coughed, reaching for the water pitcher and emptying it into his glass. Leaning on the table, Eiji rested his chin on one hand, looking covetously at the book stack. “A box,” he mused. “Do you think he’d notice if we took one?”
“Yes,” Oishi told him, setting down his empty glass. Eiji’s face drooped. Looking around, Oishi reached and picked up an empty plate, putting half the rolls Fuji had brought onto it. Eiji wailed in protest, swiftly swiping two of the remaining pieces and stuffing them into his mouth. Glancing behind him, Oishi tapped Kaidoh on the shoulder. “Do you think Inui might like some food?” he said meaningfully, holding out the plate of sushi.
Kaidoh looked over at Inui and nodded his understanding, taking the plate and brushing past Taka who was carrying a new water jug for their table.
“You know,” said Taka as he filled Fuji’s glass and passed it to him. “If you go pro that will be three from Seigaku! You, Tezuka and Echizen together.”
The glass in Fuji’s hand broke.
The train drew to a halt as it brushed the buffer stop at the end of the line. The two remaining passengers stepped together onto the small platform and looked around. The street in front of them was lined with neat warehouses on its southern side while to the north, green fields stretched towards a wooded hill behind a rusted metal fence.
“Let’s climb to the top,” Fuji suggested, indicating the path that wound up the rise.
They passed through the park’s gate and strolled towards the trees. It was a pleasant day for a walk, cool and bright. The sun shone on the leafy canopy ahead and sparkled on the stream that trickled down the hillside. The path they were on was little more than a track. Once it had clearly been wide enough for bicycles and pushchairs, but now it was overgrown with its rough gravel base almost worn away. Echizen looked around for a garbage bin to dispose of his empty ponta can but could see none. He shoved the container into his tennis bag and viewed the landscape somewhat dubiously.
“It’s nice to be away from everyone,” Fuji said, stopping beside him. “I would have suggested one of the city parks, but I thought you might be tired of people pestering you.”
Echizen blinked. He supposed that was true. “It’s good, Fuji-senpai,” he agreed.
“It’s not a deep cut,” Oishi assured a worried looking Taka as he fixed the bandage around Fuji’s hand. “I wonder what caused the glass to shatter like that?”
Fuji wasn’t listening, his eyes stared unfocussed at the open first aid box at Oishi’s feet. “You, Tezuka and Echizen together,” the words still rang in his ears. The captain, his protegee and the extra who was no longer needed. Seigaku’s singles 1 and singles 2 and the surplus old singles 2, pushed between doubles and singles spots to fill the gaps. There had been no place for Fuji that year and there would have been no future. He clenched his fist.
“Fuji!” Oishi took his hand, pulling the fingers back open. “You’ll start bleeding again!”
Fuji had watched Echizen take his place in the team; the position he played, his status as one of Seigaku’s top two players, as the only player Tezuka considered an equal. He had sat in his room and thought of their toughest rival teams; Rikkai’s Yukimura and Sanada, Hyoutei’s Atobe and Oshitari. Who was third in those teams? It hardly mattered, they did not have a career on the tennis circuit. That year, Fuji’s dreams had slipped away.
A hat, woolen and striped, fell across his eyes. “It’s not nice to see your own blood,” Eiji’s disembodied voice sounded above his head. “No wonder Fujiko’s looking so upset!”
“What happened?” a deeper voice inquired, touched by concern. “Is Fuji all right?”
Fuji smiled as he peered through the hat at the dim outline of his vice-captain. Everything was better this year. The future would be bright and, from what he could currently see, apparently stripped, orange and woolly.
The climb to the hill’s summit was a steep one, but neither of the boys striding up the path seemed to mind. They followed the winding stream which gradually broadened from a trickle to a gushing flow as train tracks and warehouses were lost from view by the thickening forest.
Echizen stopped to adjust the strap on his tennis bag as he looked around at the trees. “There’s not many cherry blossoms,” he observed.
Fuji looked up at the dense branches above him and then down at the twigs and leaves he was crunching underfoot. “I guess we came too late,” he said. “They did start to bloom over two weeks ago now.”
Echizen slowly turned in a circle, examining the trees around them. “That and the fact these aren’t cherry trees, Fuji-senpai,” he said. “They’re pine.”
“Ah,” said Fuji absently, starting to climb again. “My bad.” He continued upwards a few paces before turning to look back at Echizen. “There’ll be a good view at the top,” he said. “Do you want me to help carry your bag?”
Echizen scowled, hoisting his bag onto the opposite shoulder. “No,” he said and paced purposefully up the hill again, leaving Fuji to follow.
“Sixty-five percent,” Inui adjusted his glasses and looked back down at his notebook. “but maybe as high as seventy. It’s hard to be more precise before the Prefectural tournament.”
Taka beamed. “Seventy percent chance of going to Nationals this year,” he said proudly. “Looks like this’ll be the first celebration of many!”
Fuji smiled warmly at his friend’s enthusiasm. Being away from the team had not dulled Taka’s desire for a Seigaku victory. Fuji was not flashy by nature. He was just quietly very very good. It was half way through their third year in middle school when he realised that would never be enough. No matter how skilled he became, the only two players the pros would recall when he finished High School would be Tezuka and Echizen. The captain and the flashy freshman who informed everyone he was the best, and was believed. Believed by the first years, by Momo, by Ryuzaki and finally, by Tezuka. Fuji had stared through the sheets of water at the tennis courts knowing nothing he did here would get his life back. It was only later he realised it was not raining.
Inui was looking unmoved at Taka’s words. “With our key singles, Tezuka and Fuji, already at National standard and the Golden Pair back as Doubles one, it could hardly be otherwise,” he said. “Our third year players I still have less data on. They are wild cards, otherwise my estimate could be higher still.”
Fuji leaned back against the bar contentedly, cradling a fresh cup of water in his bandaged palm. Sixty-five to seventy percent were definitely not bad odds. Of course, the estimate relied on Inui being accurate in his assumptions. He usually was, unerringly so in fact, but inevitably there were events even he could not predict. Tezuka’s injury and the extended visit to Germany had been one such occasion. Tezuka had always planned to return to Seigaku for Nationals, but there had been those months while they waited and fought to carry on. Those months in which there were no guarantees. Fuji doubted he would ever make up the sleep he lost during that time. He had stared at the white ceiling of his bedroom for hours on end, turning all possibilities over in his mind and always reaching the same conclusion; they needed Echizen. Without Echizen, they did not have the two powerfully strong singles players needed to take them through the Kantou Tournament. Without Echizen, Tezuka’s dream and that of the whole team, was sunk. Fuji had swallowed his mounting despair. This had been the time for waiting.
“Fuji,” said Inui. “I see you have finished eating. Would you like to try some of my new juice? I developed it for our new team. I call it High-lucinating.”
Fuji examined the mug of bubbling green liquid curiously as Taka backed away hurriedly to collect empty dishes from the tables. He was tempted but since that one incident with Aozu...
“Kaidoh has already tried it,” Inui said reassuringly.
Fuji looked around the room. Momo and Eiji were trying to out-dare each other to eat larger and larger mouthfuls of wasabi. Oishi was now deep in conversation with Tezuka and Taka was rounding up stray crockery. “I can’t see Kaidoh, Inui,” Fuji admitted.
“He’s just...” Inui also scanned the room just as a loud and painful choking noise emanated from the back of the room, in the direction of the bathrooms. “Ah,” he said. “I perhaps ought to check...” he moved away, leaving the steaming beaker on the bar.
It was true, Fuji thought as he considered the beverage before him, that Inui’s judgement was not always perfect. However, it had not just been the team’s sudden need for Echizen that had prevented him acting. There was one other issue too.
“We never finished our match, did we Fuji-senpai?” Echizen looked up mischievously at the older boy as they reached the crown of the hill.
“No,” agreed Fuji. “We should ... sometime.”
Echizen looked around the hill top but his view was masked on all sides by the trees. “Not much of a view,” he said, wondering why he had bothered to climb this lump of earth in the middle of nowhere. There were bigger and better parks in Tokyo that probably still had trees with cherry blossom clinging to them. Wasn’t that what Fuji-senpai had said he wanted to see?
Fuji had headed off again, following the stream. “I think the water opens out into a lake,” he said. “We’ll get a view from there.”
Echizen shrugged. He supposed that seemed likely. Fuji-senpai was keen on photography after all, he should know about views. If nothing else he was getting a reasonable work out, weighed down by his tennis bag that he had also packed with books as they wove between the trees.
The stream did indeed run from a lake. Echizen heard it before he saw it as the water gushed from the rocks on the lake’s far side as it overspilled to tip its contents down the reverse side of the hill.
“We can cross by the waterfall,” Fuji came close to allow his voice to be heard above the roaring water. “There are stepping stones. Then we can walk down the other side where there are less trees.”
Echizen nodded his agreement, not bothering to try and raise his voice to compete with the water. Heading back down sounded good to him.
“Fuji.”
Fuji’s smile deepened in welcome as Tezuka came to stand next to him, leaning back slightly on the edge of the sushi bar.
“Tezuka,” he acknowledged. “How are you?”
Tezuka’s included his head briefly as he sipped from a freshly refilled cup of tea in his hand. Fuji let the comfortable silence stretch between them as he watched Eiji sling an arm suddenly across Oishi, causing the latter to choke on a roll he’d just placed in his mouth.
“You’re back in the shackles of captaincy, Tezuka,” Fuji commented as he watched Eiji try to rectify the situation by smacking Oishi hard on the back. “Aren’t you pleased?”
“Vice-captain,” Tezuka corrected. He sipped his tea, turning the cup carefully in his hands. “You could have been a candidate for this position,” he said unexpectedly, turning to glance down at the shorter boy.
Fuji blinked, his blue eyes opening wide in surprise. It had not occurred to him that Tezuka might think he wanted to be vice-captain. He supposed that was Tezuka though, always asking the most from himself and striving for the top. He did not understand that other people might have different goals. Fuji relaxed again. “Ne, Tezuka,” he said. “I don’t have your leadership skills.” Below them, Eiji was now shaking Oishi, trying to dislodge the ball of rice from his windpipe.
“You choose not to,” Tezuka corrected.
Fuji studied Tezuka for a few moments, trying to determine the underlying question Tezuka was wrestling with. He was watching quite calmly the scene before him, where Oishi was now hunched over the table, his eyes streaming while Eiji ran around, looking for anything that might help. His whole attention was on Fuji. Tezuka, Fuji knew, was starting to focus on his career as a professional tennis player. On route, he wanted to become captain of the High School team and take it to Nationals, preferably two years running. He was solely focussed on this goal, his previous ambitions were finished and left behind. Fuji smiled. He knew this. It was the final thing he had been waiting for, after all.
Kaidoh brushed passed them, still looking green. He walking up behind Oishi and grabbed him hard round the stomach. Oishi retched forward and the sushi roll dislodged itself to fall into the bowl in front of them. Gasping, Oishi collapsed onto the table as Eiji cheered. Everyone crowded round the Golden Pair except Tezuka who had turned back to look at Fuji, and Fuji understood the question in his gaze. Fuji was his ultimate rival, the only one worthy to aim for the same goals. He needed to know whether Fuji was with him or against him.
Fuji did not intend disturb Tezuka’s dream. This time, he would share it to the very top.
“I choose to follow you,” Fuji said simply. “Assuming you decide to keep me on the regulars.”
Tezuka turned back to look out of the window at the fuzzy darkness in the streets beyond. “I’ll think on it,” he remarked. On anyone else, his expression would not have counted as a smile.
Fuji was keen on photography. He therefore knew where all the best views in Tokyo were. He also knew where there were none. The head of the waterfall was shadowed by tall pine trees on both sides. The only view was across the smooth waters of the lake or the initial drop from the falls before they were lost in the trees. A narrow row of five stones formed an unintentional bridge across the mouth of the lake. No official path lay this way, it was too dangerous if you were not sure footed.
Echizen stopped at the edge of the water, looking skeptically at the makeshift stepping stones.
“Can you manage?” asked Fuji. “If it’s too much for you, we could return the way we came.”
Echizen sniffed. “It’s not a problem.” He put his head through the strap on his tennis bag so it was slung diagonally across his shoulders, freeing both his arms. He stepped lightly onto the first stone. It was solid and held his weight. He took a small, cautious jump and landed squarely on the second stone. This was easy, of course he had no problem with it. What sort of child did Fuji-senpai think he was?
A flock of birds momentarily darkened the sky as they flew overhead. Echizen squinted up at them.
“What type do you think they are?” Fuji called to him as he jumped onto the first stone. “I guess they are migrating home.”
Echizen shrugged. “I dunno,” he said but then gave the boy behind him a sly look. “Isn’t it just swallows that return to you, Fuji-senpai?” With a more confident leap, he landed on the third stone, but then toppled forwards as Fuji landed just behind him.
“Gomen,” Fuji caught him by his bag. “I thought you’d jumped to the next stone.”
“It’s ok,” Echizen tried to regain his balance, but couldn’t get his footing because his bag was being pulled too sharply up from his back. “Fuji-senpai,” he called back. “I can’t stand with you holding onto me.” He felt Fuji release his grip, but somehow the bag had gotten twisted and the weight was now well over to one side. He gasped, slipped and with a smack, hit the lake’s water. It was icy cold. Pulled down by his books and rackets, Echizen struggled towards the surface. As he neared it he felt a hand reaching for him. He looked up through the clear liquid to see Fuji blurrily kneeling down on the stone, his arms outstretched towards him and his smile gone. He fought upwards, kicking his legs hard. Just another few seconds. He felt Fuji’s hand brush his head before grasping his shoulder. Thank God! But rather than feeling his head break the water, he felt himself sinking again. The hand on his shoulder was pushing him down. Now a second hand caught his head, stopping it from reaching the surface. He struggled helplessly. There must be some mistake. Why did it feel like Fuji was trying to drown him?
Fuji slowly drew his arms out of the bitingly cold water as the struggles beneath him stopped. He looked down to see the shadow of a boy sinking further into the lake’s deep bottom. Then he stood, looking around. This was a quiet place. There were no good views anywhere along the walk so it was not popular with visitors. It could be weeks before anyone passed the lake again. He turned and hopped slowly back across the stepping stones. It was not easy going after goals. Sacrifices always had to be made. He leaped lightly back to the bank before taking one last look into the lake’s watery depths.
“Not all swallows return, Echizen.”
ad_exia for the help in this re-write of my Tenipuri fic. I am rewarding her in toilet rolls. (Seriously, she'll love it). Synopsis: Fuji had more reason than anyone to resent Echizen.
The Swallow
| Seigaku, Saturday afternoon, 12:00 pm |
Fuji Shuusuke stood on the cherry blossom strewn pavement by the gates of Seishin Gakuen looking through the iron bars at the tall clock tower than dominated the school’s grounds. As he watched, the hands swung to align vertically upwards and chimes echoed through the corridors and classrooms. It was noon and Saturday’s classes were at an end.
Minutes later, the school doors flew open and students started to pour across the tarmac towards the gates. Boys all in black, their jackets buttoned to their chins, girls with identical coats covering green sailor uniforms. It was mid-April but the day was crisp. Fuji felt nostalgia wash over him as a group of boys reached the gate with tennis bags slung over their shoulder. They could have been him and his friends just over one year ago. Fuji couldn’t decide whether it felt much longer or shorter than that. His eyes, hidden as usual in his smiling face, raked the hoards of people as they passed him. He was looking for somebody.
| Kawamura Sushi, Saturday evening, 8:30 pm |
While the notice on the door declared it closed, Kawamura Sushi was clearly bustling with people that Saturday night. Ignoring the sign, Fuji pushed open the door and stepped out of the cool night air to be enveloped by the warmth and light of the noisy restaurant. His appearance was greeted by cries of welcome but he had barely taken two steps into the crowded room when he was tackled side-on and knocked back against the door. Blinking, he found his view obstructed by a mass of fiery red locks.
“Fujiko!” his attacker cried, hugging his friend. “You’re late!”
“Gomen, Eiji,” Fuji said, his voice sounding muffled through the other boy’s hair.
Kikumaru Eiji half disentangled himself to view Fuji accusingly. “Today isn’t a day to be late!” he exclaimed. “There’s too much to celebrate!”
Now that he was allowed to see his ambusher clearly, Fuji was able to admire the new dark blue shirt with red trimming Eiji was sporting: the colours belonging to the regular players in their High School’s tennis team. “You look good,” he said approvingly.
Eiji flapped a hand in dismissal. “You’ve been wearing one for a year now,” he pointed out. “Both you and Tezuka.” His eyes roved the room until he spotted the person in question leaning against the far end of the sushi bar. Fuji followed his gaze to see Seigaku’s former captain studying the contents of his tea cup as a tall spectacled boy next to him talked earnestly, holding an open notebook.
“Say Fuji,” Eiji bounced on the balls of his feet, squeezing his friend tight again. “Isn’t it great Tezuka’s vice-captain this year? It’s just like old times!” His face grew briefly thoughtful. “Perhaps we should usurp Saitoh-buchou now and make Tezuka full captain.”
“Eiji,” Fuji had to laugh at his friend’s enthusiasm. “have patience.” Between Eiji’s renewed bounces, he saw a raven haired boy excuse himself from the table nearest them and walk over, smiling his greeting.
“Are you going to let poor Fuji sit, Eiji?” the newcomer asked, laying a hand gently on the red head’s shoulder. Fuji saw that he too wore the blue and red regular jersey.
“Congratulations, Oishi,” he said, nodding at the shirt.
Oishi smiled his thanks. “Inui too, did you see?” he asked, looking over to the figure talking to Tezuka. “And Momo and Kaidoh have finally joined us this year from Seigaku.” He half-turned to glance across at two people who seemed to be in an angry debate surrounding a lone sushi roll sitting on the plate between them.
“Mou,” Eiji had followed his gaze and, finally disengaging himself from Fuji, he walked over to their table.
Oishi watched him go and then turned back to Fuji, a small frown creasing his forehead. “Is everything okay, Fuji?” he asked in a quieter voice. “You left straight after your game today.”
Fuji opened his mouth to reply, but his words were drowned by a particularly furious outburst from the table beside them. “You ate that whole plate, baka mamushi!” Momo’s voice cut through the restaurant as he glared at Kaidoh. “The last piece is mine!”
“What did you call me?!” Kaidoh hissed.
“B-A-K...”
Unnoticed by either, Eiji leaned forward across the table and picked up the offending piece of sushi, popping it into his mouth with a satisfied grin. Tearing his eyes away from this amusing scene, Fuji focussed back on Oishi. “Gomen, Oishi,” he said. “I am fine. I decided to visit Seigaku.”
Oishi’s green eyes widened in surprise. “Ah, I see,” he said. “Did you see Echizen?” he named the only other member of their old team not currently in High School.
Fuji shook his head. “I looked but didn’t see him,” he said.
Still chewing cheerfully, Eiji bounced back over to them throwing an arm round each of his friends. Then he frowned and swallowed. “Why have you still got your coat on?” he demanded of Fuji. “And why aren’t you eating anything?”
| Seigaku, Saturday afternoon, 12:30 pm |
Almost all of the students had left before Fuji saw him. As the sea of black coats thinned around the gates, he was able to make out a lone figure, tennis bag over his shoulder, walking towards the exit from the direction of the tennis courts. His white cap was pulled low over his eyes and he was ignoring the shouts of a brown haired boy who was sprinting after him.
“Hey Echizen! Echizen!” the other boy caught up to him, gesticulating madly as he talked. His enthusiastic speech went unheeded as the first boy continued towards the school gates, eyes focussed straight ahead. Fuji stepped back slightly, allowing the school’s outer wall to hide him from the view.
“Put me against Katsuo in the ranking tournament then!” the brown haired boy was demanding. “I can prove it! I have had four years tennis experience after all.”
“Usu.” came the uninterested reply.
Seemingly satisfied that this was as good as he was going to get, the other boy fell back muttering before turning to jog away towards the school. The first boy continued walking to the gate and only when he was almost level with Fuji did he look up.
He had grown in that intervening year since Fuji had last seen him, but he was still slight of frame and roughly half a head shorter than Fuji himself. The boy’s large almond-shaped eyes widened further in surprise as he recognised the person before him and came to a halt.
“Fuji-senpai,” said Echizen Ryoma.
| Kawamura Sushi, Saturday evening, 9:00 pm |
Slam. The sharp knife came down with pinpoint precision on the chopping board, slicing the roll neatly in two. Flipping it expertly onto a plate, Kawamura Takashi pushed the dish across the bar to his friend.
Fuji obediently picked up one of the rolls in his chopsticks and put it in his mouth. The sharp stinging flavour of wasabi filled his throat and nose and he hummed in pleasure. “You get better every day, Taka,” he said.
Taka coloured slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve still got a long way to go,” he insisted.
“That he does,” called Taka’s father from the opposite end of the sushi bar, but there was pride in his eyes as he glanced over at his son.
Taka walked round the side of the bar carrying a second plate of sushi. He pulled himself onto a stool beside Fuji, placing the dish delicately between them. “You look well, Fuji,” he remarked, gesturing for him to help himself to the fresh rolls.
Fuji looked around the room as he took a second roll, indicating his thanks to Taka. It was impossible not to feel happy here tonight. The whole room was filled with excited chatter, mainly directed at the prospects of the tennis team in this year’s tournaments. It has been like this at the start of their second year at Seigaku too, with a talented team consisting of players who were more than just teammates. That was the year he and Tezuka had been in the same class and the world seemed to revolve around the two of them: Seigaku’s tennis legends.
He chewed thoughtfully, his eyes automatically travelling to where Tezuka stood with Inui. Inui seemed to have moved onto discussing the contents of his fifth notebook; there was a stack of used material beside him.
Everyone had looked up to Tezuka at Seigaku and Fuji had been no exception. Yet his own elusive nature and skill on the courts also kept Tezuka attentive to him, if only because he would rather know where Fuji was than not. That was until Echizen had arrived. Fuji’s chopsticks slipped, breaking the delicate roll into two.
“Do you miss playing?” Fuji asked, turning back to Taka. “You could have made the regulars too this year.”
Taka’s eyes also took in the room, lingering on each of his smiling friends before watching Eiji try to console Kaidoh by force-feeding him another piece of sushi.
“I do,” he admitted honestly. “but I don’t regret my decision. I couldn’t have played tennis at the level we did before and trained as a sushi chef, and I wouldn’t want to take a regular spot and not give it 100%.”
Fuji looked at Taka seriously, his cerulean blue eyes studying his friend’s gentle features. There was a look of firm commitment in Taka’s eyes that overrode the longing that flashed by as he listened to Momo and Kaidoh start a fresh argument about who would wear the regular jersey next. It was not easy going after goals, Fuji thought. Sacrifices always had to be made.
“What about you, Fuji?” Taka asked him. “Are you going to try for the professional tennis circuit with Tezuka? Or maybe sell your photographs of him taking it by storm?”
Fuji chuckled appreciatively. “I thought to try going pro,” he admitted. “but take my camera incase Tezuka knocks me out early in the Grand Slam tournaments.”
Taka laughed heartedly and picked up Fuji’s empty plate, ducking behind the bar to refill it. Across the room Tezuka glanced up, catching Fuji’s eye for a fraction of a second. It was a cry for help. Fuji considered it.
“I’ll go pro,” he thought. “I’ll go pro... with you.”
| Seigaku, Saturday afternoon, 12:45 pm |
Fuji lifted a hand in greeting as Echizen stopped before him.
“Fuji-senpai,” Echizen said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I was wondering how Seigaku was,” Fuji told him. “Are you busy? I was thinking it would be nice to get outside the city and see the last of the cherry blossoms.”
The shorter boy blinked and then shrugged. “Sure, Fuji-senpai,” he said and turned, walking briskly in the direction of the train station.
Fuji shook his head in amusement and then strode to catch up. They walked in silence to the station, heading for the opposite side to where most of the Seigaku students had gathered. Fuji walked to the deserted far end of the platform, where a lone bench was positioned by a half empty drinks machine. The wind whipped off the station’s end and Echizen kept a hand to the brim of his cap and he considered the contents of the vending machine.
“The station by the park is short,” Fuji explained, pushing a 100 yen coin into the machine. “We need to be in the front carriage.”
Echizen pressed a button and with a clatter the familiar purple and white can fell into the open trough below. He leaned over to grab it. “Thanks, Fuji-senpai,” he said.
Fuji smiled. “My pleasure.”
| Kawamura Sushi, Saturday evening, 9:30 pm |
“How much time do you think our new vice-captain spends on his hair?” Momo had walked over to where Fuji and Taka sat and propped himself against the bar beside them.
“What?” Taka looked at him blankly but Fuji turned to where Tezuka still stood examining the dregs of his tea cup. From this angle, it was impossible to catch a view of his face, but his golden brown hair had its usual stylishly ruffled appearance. It occurred to Fuji that this was a look many people would spend hours a day to achieve.
“Why don’t you ask him?” he suggested to Momo.
Momo’s eyebrows lifted as the idea took hold. He straightened, “Do you think I should?” he asked as he took a step in Tezuka’s direction. He was prevented moving further by Taka’s hand reaching out and catching his arm.
“Not one of Fuji’s to-do suggestions,” Taka said seriously.
Fuji sighed inwardly. He would have enjoyed the resulting conversation had Momo proceeded. Fuji had never thought Tezuka would care overly about his appearance, but it would not be the first time he had underestimated his buchou’s interests. Fuji remembered joining Tezuka in their third year as he stood looking out of the upstairs classroom window at the small white capped figure below. He had realised then that Tezuka had an ambition he had never known about; the desire to leave Seigaku to a captain who was as good, no, better than, he was himself. Tezuka had not wanted his work in helping Seigaku achieve a national standard tennis team to die when he graduated. He meant it to be a building block in the school’s future. It was a dream that Fuji was not part of. For the first time since they started Seigaku, Tezuka walked away without realising Fuji was there.
Momo’s eyes had fallen on the plate of sushi beside Fuji. “Hey, Fuji!” he said. “What are you keeping to yourself, eh?” He reached forward before Taka could stop him and popped the biggest piece into his mouth. Fuji watched with interest as Momo chewed gleefully before shock appeared on his face. He choked, hands grasping for the water jug Taka had resignedly got ready for him.
“Really, you should know better by now,” Taka reprimanded. “That’s such a waste of good sushi.”
“Been .... year,” gasped Momo between gulps of water. “... forgot...”
“Fssssh. Serves you right,” Kaidoh muttered him as he passed on his way to talk to Inui.
Momo thrust the empty water jug into Kaidoh’s chest. “What was that, baka?” he demanded.
Taka sighed, his expression that of long-suffering amusement. “They’re back,” he commented. He looked over at Fuji who had decided that he ought to finish the wasabi sushi for the sake of his friends. “You are the only person I’ve ever met who likes that,” he told him. “and we must have had hundreds of customers in here. Honestly, Fuji, I think you could tolerate anything!”
Fuji’s thoughts drifted back to this third year at Seigaku, to the lonely boy left standing by the window. “Not anything,” he said.
| The train, Saturday afternoon, 1:15 pm |
The train rattled to a halt, sending loose leaves and blossom rocketing back from the platform’s edge. The doors slid open and Fuji and Echizen stepped aboard. Two girls, giggling madly over the contents of a cell phone message leaped into the same carriage and stood huddled at the other end, their eyes fixed on the small rectangular screen. Echizen pulled his cap down lower over his eyes and looked disgusted.
“How are you finding being captain?” Fuji asked as they took their seats.
Echizen shrugged, “It’s all right,” he said.
Fuji thought back to the conversation he had witnessed by the school gates. “Inter-school ranking tournament approaching?” he asked. “I saw you talking to Horio. He wants to play Katsuo?”
Echizen scowled, tugging at his cap again. “It’ll make no difference.”
Fuji suppressed a chuckled at the irritation in Echizen’s voice. “He’ll lose?” he guessed.
“If it goes to seven games it’ll be a first.”
“I see.”
The train rolled out of the main city and houses became dispersed by fields of crops. The girls travelled only two stops before running from the train, still gossiping in overly loud whispers. Station by station, the remaining passengers emptied out until they were the only people Fuji could see as he squinted down through the carriages. The park he had in mind was by the very last station on this line.
| Kawamura Sushi, Saturday evening, 10:00 pm |
“Fujiko!” Eiji cried joyfully and Fuji walked over to the table he and Oishi were sitting at, bringing with him a fresh plate of sushi Taka had just prepared. Oishi moved over to allow Fuji room to kneel down beside him, eyeing the plate cautiously.
“Eel,” said Fuji, catching his look. “and tuna.”
“Ah!” Oishi looked relieved as he moved forward to pick up a roll in his chopsticks. Opposite him, Eiji used his fingers.
“I was contemplating a rescue mission,” Fuji told Oishi.
Oishi stopped chewing, a look of concern crossing his face.
“Tezuka,” Fuji explained.
Oishi’s eyes swiveled to look in Tezuka and Inui’s direction. He finished chewing and swallowed. “That’s what, ten books he’s gone through?” he said, scanning the pile of volumes Inui was discarding beside him. “How many do you think he’s got from one year of data?”
“Taka said something about Inui carrying a box,” Fuji remarked serenely.
Oishi eyes widened and he coughed, reaching for the water pitcher and emptying it into his glass. Leaning on the table, Eiji rested his chin on one hand, looking covetously at the book stack. “A box,” he mused. “Do you think he’d notice if we took one?”
“Yes,” Oishi told him, setting down his empty glass. Eiji’s face drooped. Looking around, Oishi reached and picked up an empty plate, putting half the rolls Fuji had brought onto it. Eiji wailed in protest, swiftly swiping two of the remaining pieces and stuffing them into his mouth. Glancing behind him, Oishi tapped Kaidoh on the shoulder. “Do you think Inui might like some food?” he said meaningfully, holding out the plate of sushi.
Kaidoh looked over at Inui and nodded his understanding, taking the plate and brushing past Taka who was carrying a new water jug for their table.
“You know,” said Taka as he filled Fuji’s glass and passed it to him. “If you go pro that will be three from Seigaku! You, Tezuka and Echizen together.”
The glass in Fuji’s hand broke.
| The park, Saturday afternoon, 2:30 pm |
The train drew to a halt as it brushed the buffer stop at the end of the line. The two remaining passengers stepped together onto the small platform and looked around. The street in front of them was lined with neat warehouses on its southern side while to the north, green fields stretched towards a wooded hill behind a rusted metal fence.
“Let’s climb to the top,” Fuji suggested, indicating the path that wound up the rise.
They passed through the park’s gate and strolled towards the trees. It was a pleasant day for a walk, cool and bright. The sun shone on the leafy canopy ahead and sparkled on the stream that trickled down the hillside. The path they were on was little more than a track. Once it had clearly been wide enough for bicycles and pushchairs, but now it was overgrown with its rough gravel base almost worn away. Echizen looked around for a garbage bin to dispose of his empty ponta can but could see none. He shoved the container into his tennis bag and viewed the landscape somewhat dubiously.
“It’s nice to be away from everyone,” Fuji said, stopping beside him. “I would have suggested one of the city parks, but I thought you might be tired of people pestering you.”
Echizen blinked. He supposed that was true. “It’s good, Fuji-senpai,” he agreed.
| Kawamura Sushi, Saturday evening, 10:30 pm |
“It’s not a deep cut,” Oishi assured a worried looking Taka as he fixed the bandage around Fuji’s hand. “I wonder what caused the glass to shatter like that?”
Fuji wasn’t listening, his eyes stared unfocussed at the open first aid box at Oishi’s feet. “You, Tezuka and Echizen together,” the words still rang in his ears. The captain, his protegee and the extra who was no longer needed. Seigaku’s singles 1 and singles 2 and the surplus old singles 2, pushed between doubles and singles spots to fill the gaps. There had been no place for Fuji that year and there would have been no future. He clenched his fist.
“Fuji!” Oishi took his hand, pulling the fingers back open. “You’ll start bleeding again!”
Fuji had watched Echizen take his place in the team; the position he played, his status as one of Seigaku’s top two players, as the only player Tezuka considered an equal. He had sat in his room and thought of their toughest rival teams; Rikkai’s Yukimura and Sanada, Hyoutei’s Atobe and Oshitari. Who was third in those teams? It hardly mattered, they did not have a career on the tennis circuit. That year, Fuji’s dreams had slipped away.
A hat, woolen and striped, fell across his eyes. “It’s not nice to see your own blood,” Eiji’s disembodied voice sounded above his head. “No wonder Fujiko’s looking so upset!”
“What happened?” a deeper voice inquired, touched by concern. “Is Fuji all right?”
Fuji smiled as he peered through the hat at the dim outline of his vice-captain. Everything was better this year. The future would be bright and, from what he could currently see, apparently stripped, orange and woolly.
| The hill, Saturday afternoon, 3:00 pm |
The climb to the hill’s summit was a steep one, but neither of the boys striding up the path seemed to mind. They followed the winding stream which gradually broadened from a trickle to a gushing flow as train tracks and warehouses were lost from view by the thickening forest.
Echizen stopped to adjust the strap on his tennis bag as he looked around at the trees. “There’s not many cherry blossoms,” he observed.
Fuji looked up at the dense branches above him and then down at the twigs and leaves he was crunching underfoot. “I guess we came too late,” he said. “They did start to bloom over two weeks ago now.”
Echizen slowly turned in a circle, examining the trees around them. “That and the fact these aren’t cherry trees, Fuji-senpai,” he said. “They’re pine.”
“Ah,” said Fuji absently, starting to climb again. “My bad.” He continued upwards a few paces before turning to look back at Echizen. “There’ll be a good view at the top,” he said. “Do you want me to help carry your bag?”
Echizen scowled, hoisting his bag onto the opposite shoulder. “No,” he said and paced purposefully up the hill again, leaving Fuji to follow.
| Kawamura Sushi, Saturday evening, 11:00 pm |
“Sixty-five percent,” Inui adjusted his glasses and looked back down at his notebook. “but maybe as high as seventy. It’s hard to be more precise before the Prefectural tournament.”
Taka beamed. “Seventy percent chance of going to Nationals this year,” he said proudly. “Looks like this’ll be the first celebration of many!”
Fuji smiled warmly at his friend’s enthusiasm. Being away from the team had not dulled Taka’s desire for a Seigaku victory. Fuji was not flashy by nature. He was just quietly very very good. It was half way through their third year in middle school when he realised that would never be enough. No matter how skilled he became, the only two players the pros would recall when he finished High School would be Tezuka and Echizen. The captain and the flashy freshman who informed everyone he was the best, and was believed. Believed by the first years, by Momo, by Ryuzaki and finally, by Tezuka. Fuji had stared through the sheets of water at the tennis courts knowing nothing he did here would get his life back. It was only later he realised it was not raining.
Inui was looking unmoved at Taka’s words. “With our key singles, Tezuka and Fuji, already at National standard and the Golden Pair back as Doubles one, it could hardly be otherwise,” he said. “Our third year players I still have less data on. They are wild cards, otherwise my estimate could be higher still.”
Fuji leaned back against the bar contentedly, cradling a fresh cup of water in his bandaged palm. Sixty-five to seventy percent were definitely not bad odds. Of course, the estimate relied on Inui being accurate in his assumptions. He usually was, unerringly so in fact, but inevitably there were events even he could not predict. Tezuka’s injury and the extended visit to Germany had been one such occasion. Tezuka had always planned to return to Seigaku for Nationals, but there had been those months while they waited and fought to carry on. Those months in which there were no guarantees. Fuji doubted he would ever make up the sleep he lost during that time. He had stared at the white ceiling of his bedroom for hours on end, turning all possibilities over in his mind and always reaching the same conclusion; they needed Echizen. Without Echizen, they did not have the two powerfully strong singles players needed to take them through the Kantou Tournament. Without Echizen, Tezuka’s dream and that of the whole team, was sunk. Fuji had swallowed his mounting despair. This had been the time for waiting.
“Fuji,” said Inui. “I see you have finished eating. Would you like to try some of my new juice? I developed it for our new team. I call it High-lucinating.”
Fuji examined the mug of bubbling green liquid curiously as Taka backed away hurriedly to collect empty dishes from the tables. He was tempted but since that one incident with Aozu...
“Kaidoh has already tried it,” Inui said reassuringly.
Fuji looked around the room. Momo and Eiji were trying to out-dare each other to eat larger and larger mouthfuls of wasabi. Oishi was now deep in conversation with Tezuka and Taka was rounding up stray crockery. “I can’t see Kaidoh, Inui,” Fuji admitted.
“He’s just...” Inui also scanned the room just as a loud and painful choking noise emanated from the back of the room, in the direction of the bathrooms. “Ah,” he said. “I perhaps ought to check...” he moved away, leaving the steaming beaker on the bar.
It was true, Fuji thought as he considered the beverage before him, that Inui’s judgement was not always perfect. However, it had not just been the team’s sudden need for Echizen that had prevented him acting. There was one other issue too.
| The lake, Saturday afternoon, 4:00 pm |
“We never finished our match, did we Fuji-senpai?” Echizen looked up mischievously at the older boy as they reached the crown of the hill.
“No,” agreed Fuji. “We should ... sometime.”
Echizen looked around the hill top but his view was masked on all sides by the trees. “Not much of a view,” he said, wondering why he had bothered to climb this lump of earth in the middle of nowhere. There were bigger and better parks in Tokyo that probably still had trees with cherry blossom clinging to them. Wasn’t that what Fuji-senpai had said he wanted to see?
Fuji had headed off again, following the stream. “I think the water opens out into a lake,” he said. “We’ll get a view from there.”
Echizen shrugged. He supposed that seemed likely. Fuji-senpai was keen on photography after all, he should know about views. If nothing else he was getting a reasonable work out, weighed down by his tennis bag that he had also packed with books as they wove between the trees.
The stream did indeed run from a lake. Echizen heard it before he saw it as the water gushed from the rocks on the lake’s far side as it overspilled to tip its contents down the reverse side of the hill.
“We can cross by the waterfall,” Fuji came close to allow his voice to be heard above the roaring water. “There are stepping stones. Then we can walk down the other side where there are less trees.”
Echizen nodded his agreement, not bothering to try and raise his voice to compete with the water. Heading back down sounded good to him.
| Kawamura Sushi, Saturday evening, 11:30 pm |
“Fuji.”
Fuji’s smile deepened in welcome as Tezuka came to stand next to him, leaning back slightly on the edge of the sushi bar.
“Tezuka,” he acknowledged. “How are you?”
Tezuka’s included his head briefly as he sipped from a freshly refilled cup of tea in his hand. Fuji let the comfortable silence stretch between them as he watched Eiji sling an arm suddenly across Oishi, causing the latter to choke on a roll he’d just placed in his mouth.
“You’re back in the shackles of captaincy, Tezuka,” Fuji commented as he watched Eiji try to rectify the situation by smacking Oishi hard on the back. “Aren’t you pleased?”
“Vice-captain,” Tezuka corrected. He sipped his tea, turning the cup carefully in his hands. “You could have been a candidate for this position,” he said unexpectedly, turning to glance down at the shorter boy.
Fuji blinked, his blue eyes opening wide in surprise. It had not occurred to him that Tezuka might think he wanted to be vice-captain. He supposed that was Tezuka though, always asking the most from himself and striving for the top. He did not understand that other people might have different goals. Fuji relaxed again. “Ne, Tezuka,” he said. “I don’t have your leadership skills.” Below them, Eiji was now shaking Oishi, trying to dislodge the ball of rice from his windpipe.
“You choose not to,” Tezuka corrected.
Fuji studied Tezuka for a few moments, trying to determine the underlying question Tezuka was wrestling with. He was watching quite calmly the scene before him, where Oishi was now hunched over the table, his eyes streaming while Eiji ran around, looking for anything that might help. His whole attention was on Fuji. Tezuka, Fuji knew, was starting to focus on his career as a professional tennis player. On route, he wanted to become captain of the High School team and take it to Nationals, preferably two years running. He was solely focussed on this goal, his previous ambitions were finished and left behind. Fuji smiled. He knew this. It was the final thing he had been waiting for, after all.
Kaidoh brushed passed them, still looking green. He walking up behind Oishi and grabbed him hard round the stomach. Oishi retched forward and the sushi roll dislodged itself to fall into the bowl in front of them. Gasping, Oishi collapsed onto the table as Eiji cheered. Everyone crowded round the Golden Pair except Tezuka who had turned back to look at Fuji, and Fuji understood the question in his gaze. Fuji was his ultimate rival, the only one worthy to aim for the same goals. He needed to know whether Fuji was with him or against him.
Fuji did not intend disturb Tezuka’s dream. This time, he would share it to the very top.
“I choose to follow you,” Fuji said simply. “Assuming you decide to keep me on the regulars.”
Tezuka turned back to look out of the window at the fuzzy darkness in the streets beyond. “I’ll think on it,” he remarked. On anyone else, his expression would not have counted as a smile.
| The swallow, Saturday afternoon, 4:20 pm |
Fuji was keen on photography. He therefore knew where all the best views in Tokyo were. He also knew where there were none. The head of the waterfall was shadowed by tall pine trees on both sides. The only view was across the smooth waters of the lake or the initial drop from the falls before they were lost in the trees. A narrow row of five stones formed an unintentional bridge across the mouth of the lake. No official path lay this way, it was too dangerous if you were not sure footed.
Echizen stopped at the edge of the water, looking skeptically at the makeshift stepping stones.
“Can you manage?” asked Fuji. “If it’s too much for you, we could return the way we came.”
Echizen sniffed. “It’s not a problem.” He put his head through the strap on his tennis bag so it was slung diagonally across his shoulders, freeing both his arms. He stepped lightly onto the first stone. It was solid and held his weight. He took a small, cautious jump and landed squarely on the second stone. This was easy, of course he had no problem with it. What sort of child did Fuji-senpai think he was?
A flock of birds momentarily darkened the sky as they flew overhead. Echizen squinted up at them.
“What type do you think they are?” Fuji called to him as he jumped onto the first stone. “I guess they are migrating home.”
Echizen shrugged. “I dunno,” he said but then gave the boy behind him a sly look. “Isn’t it just swallows that return to you, Fuji-senpai?” With a more confident leap, he landed on the third stone, but then toppled forwards as Fuji landed just behind him.
“Gomen,” Fuji caught him by his bag. “I thought you’d jumped to the next stone.”
“It’s ok,” Echizen tried to regain his balance, but couldn’t get his footing because his bag was being pulled too sharply up from his back. “Fuji-senpai,” he called back. “I can’t stand with you holding onto me.” He felt Fuji release his grip, but somehow the bag had gotten twisted and the weight was now well over to one side. He gasped, slipped and with a smack, hit the lake’s water. It was icy cold. Pulled down by his books and rackets, Echizen struggled towards the surface. As he neared it he felt a hand reaching for him. He looked up through the clear liquid to see Fuji blurrily kneeling down on the stone, his arms outstretched towards him and his smile gone. He fought upwards, kicking his legs hard. Just another few seconds. He felt Fuji’s hand brush his head before grasping his shoulder. Thank God! But rather than feeling his head break the water, he felt himself sinking again. The hand on his shoulder was pushing him down. Now a second hand caught his head, stopping it from reaching the surface. He struggled helplessly. There must be some mistake. Why did it feel like Fuji was trying to drown him?
Fuji slowly drew his arms out of the bitingly cold water as the struggles beneath him stopped. He looked down to see the shadow of a boy sinking further into the lake’s deep bottom. Then he stood, looking around. This was a quiet place. There were no good views anywhere along the walk so it was not popular with visitors. It could be weeks before anyone passed the lake again. He turned and hopped slowly back across the stepping stones. It was not easy going after goals. Sacrifices always had to be made. He leaped lightly back to the bank before taking one last look into the lake’s watery depths.
“Not all swallows return, Echizen.”
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no subject
Date: 2009-07-23 11:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-23 11:25 am (UTC)** Checks wikipedia, that ultimate source of all knowledge **
Wikipedia thinks it's "Seishin Academy" so I think you're right!
Thank you for reading~ (And I love that icon).
no subject
Date: 2009-07-23 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-12 02:33 pm (UTC)Yay! Echizen died.I like your writing style and the way you interlaced the two main scenes. You're also very good in describing the regulars' antics in the background.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-12 02:41 pm (UTC)Echizen diedXD)Thank you! I enjoyed writing the background parts probably more than the main story~