[camerin]
TWO DEPARTURES
by aiwritingfic
Tezuka wrote the last sentence down and then reread the day's entry again. Yes, that was what he'd wanted to remember and think about today. He set his pen down, rubbed his temple lightly, and then closed his diary.
He hadn't told anyone he meant to leave that summer. Oishi and Fuji knew he wanted to go to Germany after Nationals, but they'd asked him about it directly; Tezuka wouldn't have said anything otherwise. He knew he could trust them not to tell anyone else; he'd specifically forbidden Oishi from sharing the information with Kikumaru, and Fuji had always been discreet.
Still, he owed the courtesy of telling them soon to the rest of the regulars, at least.
He went downstairs for the telephone. As he reached out to lift the receiver, his eyes looked outside at the beautiful pink petals on their cherry tree, as delicate and yet as colorful as the blossoms around Mount Fuji.
Father had brought him to Mount Fuji last spring. Tezuka had listened patiently and with not a small amount interest as his father reminisced about coming to the top of Mount Fuji with Grandfather, with Mother, and himself in turn. "The impermanence of family and youth," Father had said. He'd patted Tezuka's back. "Don't worry too much about the future, Kunimitsu. We'll always be here for you. I'll always support you any way you want me to. You're my son, and I'm proud of you."
Father always looked wistful when he talked about Tezuka playing tennis at the top of the world.
The carving of Mount Fuji had sat in Tezuka's room for the last two weeks, finished and yet unfinished. He knew what it was missing, and what he would need to add before it was done. He wouldn't do it now; he needed more wood, and even if he left now, the shop would be closed by the time he got there. He would buy it tomorrow. In the meantime ...
In the meantime, there was a beautiful sunset to share with Father. Mother and Grandfather too, if he could find them.
Tezuka withdrew his hand, standing before the telephone a moment longer before turning towards the living room. He wasn't their captain anymore; the regulars could wait until tomorrow.
* * *
The sunset was the same shade as the fresh salmon Kawamura had helped to unload that morning. Now he stood in the doorway, the restaurant's banner brushing lightly against the back of his head. He could hear the sound of water running in the sink; his father's baritone hummed something Kawamura vaguely recognized as enka.
Last night, a huge picture of all of them surrounding the Nationals flag had been hung in the restaurant, their past glory proudly displayed for the world to see. His father had gotten it from somewhere; Kawamura thought perhaps it had been Inoue-san, the tennis reporter. Or maybe it had been Shiba-san the photographer instead? His father would have plied them with sushi; Inoue-san's favorites, Shiba-san's favorites. No one could be as persuasive as Kawamura Senior behind the counter at Kawamura Sushi.
Kawamura stepped forward and turned to gaze at the dark blue cloth with "sushi" scrawled in his father's calligraphy. Kawamura Sushi. His father had founded the restaurant. Now it was up to both of them to make it grow.
No matter what happened in the future, Kawamura would be at Kawamura Sushi. He would miss the tennis, but his place was here. The others too; Kawamura had told them that repeatedly. He'd gotten promises from everyone that they would come back, sometime, some day, and soon. Echizen could go back to America, Kaidoh and Momo could carry Seigaku's banner, Inui could go professional, Eiji and Oishi could get into different schools, Fuji could stop playing seriously, Tezuka could go to Germany like Fuji said. Kawamura would be right here, behind the counter of Kawamura Sushi, working with his father. With these hands, he would make sushi; with the same hands, he would always welcome them, no matter when they came.
If he called, perhaps Fuji would like to play some tennis tomorrow morning. Maybe he could ask Oishi and Eiji to join them. They might bring Inui and Tezuka, and even Momo and Kaidoh. This time of year, the street courts were always crowded, but the school's tennis courts were still open to those who wanted to play. Though Kawamura was still a little shy of asking Ryuuzaki-sensei, he knew Fuji would gladly do so in his stead. Fuji would say "Sumire-chan" in the way that made Ryuuzaki-sensei scowl on the outside and smile on the inside as she gave her permission. Maybe Ryuuzaki-sensei would like some sushi, and perhaps she would join them on the courts at last. Maybe they'd all like sushi. Of course Kawamura would bring it. As much as they could eat--no, more than they could eat. He'd make sure there was enough sushi to outlast even Momo's distended belly.
Kawamura chuckled; that was a challenge he relished. He'd better call now, before the regulars made other plans. With a sunset like this, tomorrow would be a beautiful day.
by aiwritingfic
Tezuka wrote the last sentence down and then reread the day's entry again. Yes, that was what he'd wanted to remember and think about today. He set his pen down, rubbed his temple lightly, and then closed his diary.
He hadn't told anyone he meant to leave that summer. Oishi and Fuji knew he wanted to go to Germany after Nationals, but they'd asked him about it directly; Tezuka wouldn't have said anything otherwise. He knew he could trust them not to tell anyone else; he'd specifically forbidden Oishi from sharing the information with Kikumaru, and Fuji had always been discreet.
Still, he owed the courtesy of telling them soon to the rest of the regulars, at least.
He went downstairs for the telephone. As he reached out to lift the receiver, his eyes looked outside at the beautiful pink petals on their cherry tree, as delicate and yet as colorful as the blossoms around Mount Fuji.
Father had brought him to Mount Fuji last spring. Tezuka had listened patiently and with not a small amount interest as his father reminisced about coming to the top of Mount Fuji with Grandfather, with Mother, and himself in turn. "The impermanence of family and youth," Father had said. He'd patted Tezuka's back. "Don't worry too much about the future, Kunimitsu. We'll always be here for you. I'll always support you any way you want me to. You're my son, and I'm proud of you."
Father always looked wistful when he talked about Tezuka playing tennis at the top of the world.
The carving of Mount Fuji had sat in Tezuka's room for the last two weeks, finished and yet unfinished. He knew what it was missing, and what he would need to add before it was done. He wouldn't do it now; he needed more wood, and even if he left now, the shop would be closed by the time he got there. He would buy it tomorrow. In the meantime ...
In the meantime, there was a beautiful sunset to share with Father. Mother and Grandfather too, if he could find them.
Tezuka withdrew his hand, standing before the telephone a moment longer before turning towards the living room. He wasn't their captain anymore; the regulars could wait until tomorrow.
* * *
The sunset was the same shade as the fresh salmon Kawamura had helped to unload that morning. Now he stood in the doorway, the restaurant's banner brushing lightly against the back of his head. He could hear the sound of water running in the sink; his father's baritone hummed something Kawamura vaguely recognized as enka.
Last night, a huge picture of all of them surrounding the Nationals flag had been hung in the restaurant, their past glory proudly displayed for the world to see. His father had gotten it from somewhere; Kawamura thought perhaps it had been Inoue-san, the tennis reporter. Or maybe it had been Shiba-san the photographer instead? His father would have plied them with sushi; Inoue-san's favorites, Shiba-san's favorites. No one could be as persuasive as Kawamura Senior behind the counter at Kawamura Sushi.
Kawamura stepped forward and turned to gaze at the dark blue cloth with "sushi" scrawled in his father's calligraphy. Kawamura Sushi. His father had founded the restaurant. Now it was up to both of them to make it grow.
No matter what happened in the future, Kawamura would be at Kawamura Sushi. He would miss the tennis, but his place was here. The others too; Kawamura had told them that repeatedly. He'd gotten promises from everyone that they would come back, sometime, some day, and soon. Echizen could go back to America, Kaidoh and Momo could carry Seigaku's banner, Inui could go professional, Eiji and Oishi could get into different schools, Fuji could stop playing seriously, Tezuka could go to Germany like Fuji said. Kawamura would be right here, behind the counter of Kawamura Sushi, working with his father. With these hands, he would make sushi; with the same hands, he would always welcome them, no matter when they came.
If he called, perhaps Fuji would like to play some tennis tomorrow morning. Maybe he could ask Oishi and Eiji to join them. They might bring Inui and Tezuka, and even Momo and Kaidoh. This time of year, the street courts were always crowded, but the school's tennis courts were still open to those who wanted to play. Though Kawamura was still a little shy of asking Ryuuzaki-sensei, he knew Fuji would gladly do so in his stead. Fuji would say "Sumire-chan" in the way that made Ryuuzaki-sensei scowl on the outside and smile on the inside as she gave her permission. Maybe Ryuuzaki-sensei would like some sushi, and perhaps she would join them on the courts at last. Maybe they'd all like sushi. Of course Kawamura would bring it. As much as they could eat--no, more than they could eat. He'd make sure there was enough sushi to outlast even Momo's distended belly.
Kawamura chuckled; that was a challenge he relished. He'd better call now, before the regulars made other plans. With a sunset like this, tomorrow would be a beautiful day.