To array_of_colors from Your Tenifriend
Title: True Power
Characters: Momoshiro Takeshi and Kawamura Takashi
Rating: G
Summary: Where power comes from and how two different people find their power to be so similar.
Warnings: None that I can think of.
Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. I’m just having fun with them, then putting them back right where I found them.
A/N: Well, I write these characters so rarely. I hope they’re IC and that the fic is to your liking! And a thanks to my lovely beta, too!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Momoshiro wasn’t normally the type to stare. Well, not to just stare, anyway. Usually any watching he did would involve comments at some point, be they impressed or derogatory. However, in that moment, all he could do was stare silently, a low, soft whistle of appreciation the only thing that passed his lips.
Somewhere in the back of his head, Momoshiro knew that Kawamura had to train at his tennis, really he did. He was a Regular, after all, and that position didn’t come without hard work and honing of skills. Even knowing that, though, Momoshiro had never been able to think of Kawamura without thinking about, well, sushi, so he had put the issue of his senior’s tennis ability aside, never really pondering it.
He had never really thought about Kawamura much at all, to be honest. When Momoshiro contemplated tennis and other people on his team, there were others that came to mind much more readily. Tezuka was an obvious choice, as was Echizen. And, as ashamed as Momoshiro was to admit it, he had put in many an hour contemplating Kaidoh’s tennis style, wanting to be as familiar with his rival as possible. Kawamura, for all of his power and consistency, had never really turned up on Momoshiro’s tennis radar.
But standing there now, watching Kawamura, Momoshiro was forced to alter that perception, and with his new eyes, he was learning so much, even without saying a word.
They were both power players; that much even Momoshiro was aware of. Their styles both tended to be a little…flamboyant, though Momoshiro was the only one who took that off the court as well. He found himself wondering if that was why he had not really noticed Kawamura so much…he was genuinely a nice guy, quiet and easily overlooked.
Momoshiro couldn’t overlook Kawamura now, though.
Even thought it was just Kawamura, a ball, and the wall, it was obvious how much concentration Kawamura was putting into each shot, even to Momoshiro. The pure intensity was close to blowing Momoshiro’s mind. Somehow, he had always thought that tennis was just a hobby to Kawamura. Had it been Kaidoh, Echizen, or even Kikumaru, that Momoshiro had seen like that, he wouldn’t have been surprised in the least. But seeing Kawamura so serious….
Well, Momoshiro had a lot of thinking to do, now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kawamura was being watched. He just couldn’t figure out why someone would be watching him, though.
He had been sensing it for several days, now, on the edge of his awareness. It wasn’t constant, either. At home, or in class, the feeling subsided, but as soon as Kawamura stepped into the clubhouse, he could feel invisible eyes on him that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. But whenever he looked around, he could never see anyone there.
Kawamura had no idea who was watching him, but it was driving him insane. It wasn’t so much that he minded the attention (though that was odd; he was sure that he was the most forgettable player on the team, after all), but it was the secrecy that was disturbing him, the feeling of being stalked.
Quite frankly, it was putting Kawamura off his game, and that was, to put it lightly, annoying. And he had had more than enough of it.
Even though Seigaku’s tennis club wasn’t as big as, say, Hyoutei’s or Rikkai’s, there were still enough people around that Kawamura knew that he wouldn’t be able to discover anything during practice proper. And he was rarely watched on the way to or from school, so whoever was stalking him was limiting their time to when he was involved in club-related activities. So for Kawamura, the solution was obvious: try to catch his stalker after practice had ended, but before he left to go home.
The one problem with Kawamura’s plan was that he was not known for staying late. He was usually rushing home to help his father in the shop, so he knew that he would have to invent an excuse to linger, one that would sound plausible to anyone who thought to ask. Luckily for Kawamura, a chance encounter with Fudomine’s Ishida and a discussion of the Hadoukyuu had left Kawamura with the desire to try out some of the modifications they had talked about. And, unlike many shots, which were best perfected with a partner, the Hadoukyuu in any form was not a shot Kawamura was willing to expose anyone to until he had a good handle on it, which meant time alone with a practice wall. The perfect excuse to linger after practice had ended.
Now all he had to do was hope that his friendly stalker took the bait (and hope that his stalker was of the friendly variety).
It seemed to have worked, too. Within five minutes, Kawamura could feel that now-familiar regard on him, making the hair on the back of his neck prickle.
He feigned ignorance for awhile, truly wanting to practice, and, also, a part of him hoping that his change in routine would force a confrontation on its own. It became clear, though, that nothing was going to change, and, frankly, he was tired of ignoring the watcher.
Kawamura put down his racquet slowly, not wanting to be in “burning” mode for this conversation. “I know you’re there, so you might as well come out.”
Momoshiro jumped. “I…ummm…hey, Taka-san.” He came out from around a corner, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I was just wondering who was here so late and all….”
“You’ve been following me, haven’t you?” Kawamura was surprised, to say the least-he had never pegged Momoshiro as the stalker type-but the feeling of the presence watching him had never changed, and it was clearly Momoshiro that had been watching him now. He was no Inui, but even he could make a logical connection.
Momoshiro shook his head at first, then nodded slowly. “Yeah…I guess I have been watching you a bit.”
When no elaboration came, Kawamura frowned and pressed on. “Why? I’m not that interesting, Momo. I come to school, play tennis, then go home. Most of my energy goes to the shop. If you’re looking for entertainment, there’s got to be better people you can follow.”
“It’s not about the entertainment, not at all.” Momoshiro shook his head. “I…well, you see….”
“Yes?”
“I was curious, that’s all!”
“Curious about what?” Kawamura came a little closer to Momoshiro. “There’s nothing to be curious about, you know.”
“But there is!” Momoshiro blinked at his own outburst, then continued. “You said it yourself: most of your energy is for sushi. So…where do you find the energy for this?”
Kawamura blinked. “For…what?”
“This!” Momoshiro’s waving hands managed to somehow take in all of the tennis courts. “Taka-san, you’ve got passion for this, you know? How can you put so much of your heart into this, when it’s no secret that your life’s passion is for something else?”
Kawamura’s eyes lit with sudden understanding. “How can I not?” he asked, repaying a question with a question.
Momoshiro gave him a blank look. “That explains nothing, nothing at all!.”
Kawamura stared at the ground thoughtfully, not sure how to put his thoughts into words. “Well…what good is anything you do, if you don’t have any drive behind it? I might not be planning on making tennis my entire life, but it is my life right now, and I can’t treat it as anything less than that. So, even if I am leaving the team in a few months, it would be unfair to everyone, and especially to me, if I just acted like it’s a casual thing, because it’s not.” His smile was a bit shy. “It might not make sense to you, but it does to me.”
“No…I think I get what you’re saying….” Momoshiro was nodding slowly. “It’s…all about the heart, isn’t it? It’s different…but it’s the same, because your heart is in your tennis, just like mine is, even though we’ve got different goals and all.” He laughed sheepishly. “Sorry…sorry! That was a bit corny, right?”
“Maybe…but it’s true.” Momoshiro looked at Kawamura and blinked; usually he didn’t even notice the year age gap, but Kawamura seemed…older, suddenly. Wiser, anyway. “It’s why we all play, right? It’s because the game is a part of our hearts, and how can we keep from expressing that in our actions?” Kawamura blushed, suddenly. “It’s where all my power comes from, you know.”
“Mine, too….” Momoshiro was hard pressed to think of a moment where he had understood someone better than he did Kawamura at that moment. “Hey…Taka-san?”
“Yeah, Momo?” Kawamura looked up from where he was putting his racquet away, his practice for the day over.
“Did you ever think that maybe…I don’t know. That we should be better friends than we are? I mean, we’re really not buddies, or anything?” Momoshiro chuckled a little. “Which is weird, since we both know where true power comes from and all.”
“No…we’re really not friends, are we?” Kawamura was silent for a moment, then turned to look at Momoshiro with a smile. “But we can change that. Power players should stick together, after all.”
--The End--
Characters: Momoshiro Takeshi and Kawamura Takashi
Rating: G
Summary: Where power comes from and how two different people find their power to be so similar.
Warnings: None that I can think of.
Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. I’m just having fun with them, then putting them back right where I found them.
A/N: Well, I write these characters so rarely. I hope they’re IC and that the fic is to your liking! And a thanks to my lovely beta, too!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Momoshiro wasn’t normally the type to stare. Well, not to just stare, anyway. Usually any watching he did would involve comments at some point, be they impressed or derogatory. However, in that moment, all he could do was stare silently, a low, soft whistle of appreciation the only thing that passed his lips.
Somewhere in the back of his head, Momoshiro knew that Kawamura had to train at his tennis, really he did. He was a Regular, after all, and that position didn’t come without hard work and honing of skills. Even knowing that, though, Momoshiro had never been able to think of Kawamura without thinking about, well, sushi, so he had put the issue of his senior’s tennis ability aside, never really pondering it.
He had never really thought about Kawamura much at all, to be honest. When Momoshiro contemplated tennis and other people on his team, there were others that came to mind much more readily. Tezuka was an obvious choice, as was Echizen. And, as ashamed as Momoshiro was to admit it, he had put in many an hour contemplating Kaidoh’s tennis style, wanting to be as familiar with his rival as possible. Kawamura, for all of his power and consistency, had never really turned up on Momoshiro’s tennis radar.
But standing there now, watching Kawamura, Momoshiro was forced to alter that perception, and with his new eyes, he was learning so much, even without saying a word.
They were both power players; that much even Momoshiro was aware of. Their styles both tended to be a little…flamboyant, though Momoshiro was the only one who took that off the court as well. He found himself wondering if that was why he had not really noticed Kawamura so much…he was genuinely a nice guy, quiet and easily overlooked.
Momoshiro couldn’t overlook Kawamura now, though.
Even thought it was just Kawamura, a ball, and the wall, it was obvious how much concentration Kawamura was putting into each shot, even to Momoshiro. The pure intensity was close to blowing Momoshiro’s mind. Somehow, he had always thought that tennis was just a hobby to Kawamura. Had it been Kaidoh, Echizen, or even Kikumaru, that Momoshiro had seen like that, he wouldn’t have been surprised in the least. But seeing Kawamura so serious….
Well, Momoshiro had a lot of thinking to do, now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kawamura was being watched. He just couldn’t figure out why someone would be watching him, though.
He had been sensing it for several days, now, on the edge of his awareness. It wasn’t constant, either. At home, or in class, the feeling subsided, but as soon as Kawamura stepped into the clubhouse, he could feel invisible eyes on him that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. But whenever he looked around, he could never see anyone there.
Kawamura had no idea who was watching him, but it was driving him insane. It wasn’t so much that he minded the attention (though that was odd; he was sure that he was the most forgettable player on the team, after all), but it was the secrecy that was disturbing him, the feeling of being stalked.
Quite frankly, it was putting Kawamura off his game, and that was, to put it lightly, annoying. And he had had more than enough of it.
Even though Seigaku’s tennis club wasn’t as big as, say, Hyoutei’s or Rikkai’s, there were still enough people around that Kawamura knew that he wouldn’t be able to discover anything during practice proper. And he was rarely watched on the way to or from school, so whoever was stalking him was limiting their time to when he was involved in club-related activities. So for Kawamura, the solution was obvious: try to catch his stalker after practice had ended, but before he left to go home.
The one problem with Kawamura’s plan was that he was not known for staying late. He was usually rushing home to help his father in the shop, so he knew that he would have to invent an excuse to linger, one that would sound plausible to anyone who thought to ask. Luckily for Kawamura, a chance encounter with Fudomine’s Ishida and a discussion of the Hadoukyuu had left Kawamura with the desire to try out some of the modifications they had talked about. And, unlike many shots, which were best perfected with a partner, the Hadoukyuu in any form was not a shot Kawamura was willing to expose anyone to until he had a good handle on it, which meant time alone with a practice wall. The perfect excuse to linger after practice had ended.
Now all he had to do was hope that his friendly stalker took the bait (and hope that his stalker was of the friendly variety).
It seemed to have worked, too. Within five minutes, Kawamura could feel that now-familiar regard on him, making the hair on the back of his neck prickle.
He feigned ignorance for awhile, truly wanting to practice, and, also, a part of him hoping that his change in routine would force a confrontation on its own. It became clear, though, that nothing was going to change, and, frankly, he was tired of ignoring the watcher.
Kawamura put down his racquet slowly, not wanting to be in “burning” mode for this conversation. “I know you’re there, so you might as well come out.”
Momoshiro jumped. “I…ummm…hey, Taka-san.” He came out from around a corner, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I was just wondering who was here so late and all….”
“You’ve been following me, haven’t you?” Kawamura was surprised, to say the least-he had never pegged Momoshiro as the stalker type-but the feeling of the presence watching him had never changed, and it was clearly Momoshiro that had been watching him now. He was no Inui, but even he could make a logical connection.
Momoshiro shook his head at first, then nodded slowly. “Yeah…I guess I have been watching you a bit.”
When no elaboration came, Kawamura frowned and pressed on. “Why? I’m not that interesting, Momo. I come to school, play tennis, then go home. Most of my energy goes to the shop. If you’re looking for entertainment, there’s got to be better people you can follow.”
“It’s not about the entertainment, not at all.” Momoshiro shook his head. “I…well, you see….”
“Yes?”
“I was curious, that’s all!”
“Curious about what?” Kawamura came a little closer to Momoshiro. “There’s nothing to be curious about, you know.”
“But there is!” Momoshiro blinked at his own outburst, then continued. “You said it yourself: most of your energy is for sushi. So…where do you find the energy for this?”
Kawamura blinked. “For…what?”
“This!” Momoshiro’s waving hands managed to somehow take in all of the tennis courts. “Taka-san, you’ve got passion for this, you know? How can you put so much of your heart into this, when it’s no secret that your life’s passion is for something else?”
Kawamura’s eyes lit with sudden understanding. “How can I not?” he asked, repaying a question with a question.
Momoshiro gave him a blank look. “That explains nothing, nothing at all!.”
Kawamura stared at the ground thoughtfully, not sure how to put his thoughts into words. “Well…what good is anything you do, if you don’t have any drive behind it? I might not be planning on making tennis my entire life, but it is my life right now, and I can’t treat it as anything less than that. So, even if I am leaving the team in a few months, it would be unfair to everyone, and especially to me, if I just acted like it’s a casual thing, because it’s not.” His smile was a bit shy. “It might not make sense to you, but it does to me.”
“No…I think I get what you’re saying….” Momoshiro was nodding slowly. “It’s…all about the heart, isn’t it? It’s different…but it’s the same, because your heart is in your tennis, just like mine is, even though we’ve got different goals and all.” He laughed sheepishly. “Sorry…sorry! That was a bit corny, right?”
“Maybe…but it’s true.” Momoshiro looked at Kawamura and blinked; usually he didn’t even notice the year age gap, but Kawamura seemed…older, suddenly. Wiser, anyway. “It’s why we all play, right? It’s because the game is a part of our hearts, and how can we keep from expressing that in our actions?” Kawamura blushed, suddenly. “It’s where all my power comes from, you know.”
“Mine, too….” Momoshiro was hard pressed to think of a moment where he had understood someone better than he did Kawamura at that moment. “Hey…Taka-san?”
“Yeah, Momo?” Kawamura looked up from where he was putting his racquet away, his practice for the day over.
“Did you ever think that maybe…I don’t know. That we should be better friends than we are? I mean, we’re really not buddies, or anything?” Momoshiro chuckled a little. “Which is weird, since we both know where true power comes from and all.”
“No…we’re really not friends, are we?” Kawamura was silent for a moment, then turned to look at Momoshiro with a smile. “But we can change that. Power players should stick together, after all.”
--The End--