Remembrance - Day Six
One runs a risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed… - The Little Prince, by Antoine De Saint-Exupéry
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Remembrance - Day Six
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I think when you sleep in bed with another person, when you allow him to see you with your guard down, the two of you are supposed to become a bit closer. That change became evident as the days passed. Eiji once pointed out of curiosity that he always ate lunch with you. Inui said that you spoke to him 38.92 percent more than the rest of the team. Even Oishi noted that you almost always ran laps alongside him.
But you easily dispelled the inquiries with that frown of yours. You told them that you were in the same class, had the same breaks, shared the same homework, had the same dismissal time that, naturally, you spent more time with him than with anyone else. They believed you, of course. Otherwise, they all knew, they would have had to run 30 laps around the court. He, on the other hand, merely chuckled, nodding to whatever you said.
He too noticed these little things. Before, you had been only partially comfortable with him. But he knew that you were now completely at ease with him. You stopped frowning around him. Instead, you began to wear a calmer, more relaxed expression. You also tried to answer his random questions, knitting your brows in deep thought while you contemplated suitable replies.
He also knew that you had to adjust your very busy schedule around his so that you could walk with him after school. But I’m not quite certain if you realized that every time you asked him to walk home with you, he was genuinely cheerful. His smile, if you noticed, span from ear to ear, full of gratitude. He liked these walks. He found it a way, if not an excuse, to know you better. It was a little challenge he made with himself to see things that other people did not see in you.
Most of the walks were quiet. You would occasionally talk about new tennis moves, uprising tennis stars, probable tennis rivals, your tennis club, etc. But there were also rare moments when you would hold a normal conversation and ask about each other.
One of those times, you paused to ask him, “Fuji, why do you always smile?” You were so serious and intent then that his smile widened.
He gave his shoulders a slight shrug and said, “Okaachan and oneesan are always smiling. They influenced my childhood so I must have picked up the habit from them. Besides,” he paused to consider. Then, you saw him throw a grin at you, “Smiling feels nice, Tezuka. It does. You should try it once in a while.”
You nodded. “I see,” you said. And yet, to his obvious disappointment, you didn’t smile.
“Why did you ask?” he wondered. “Did you think that I’m hiding behind my smile?”
You frowned. “No. Just asking.”
He smiled. He believed you; after all, you never lied.
“But I wonder where the real you is.”
Almost at once, he fell into silence. You couldn’t have missed the slight wrinkle in his forehead when you said that. Somehow, it seemed, you had always managed to steer the conversation into that direction: his tennis. Though people took him as a tennis genius, you were not fully satisfied with his play.
You often asked him why he never played to his full potential. Sometimes, you shared your observations with him. You would say that he only played enough to win, but he lacked the drive, the passion for tennis. He hadn’t been able to give you a convincing response though. But that is quite simply because he did not know the answer himself - until some time later… but we’ll have to get back to that.
You were persistent enough to regularly remind him that he should play to his strength. But you knew when to push and when not to. Most of the time, you watched him train, added suggestions for his techniques, and, sometimes, practiced with him. But I think you were aching to see the things that he could do and see him past his limits.
Once, however, you had to forego a walk with him. You said you had to see someone. You had been slightly apologetic then but he assured you that it was all right. He was planning to buy a new book anyway, he said, and the bookshop was out of the way of your usual route. The two of you parted at the school gates that cold afternoon, and you watched as he waved a goodbye and turned to his heels.
Your brows raised in surprise when you saw him at the hospital entrance later that afternoon. He had smiled at you and said, “Tezuka.”
“Fuji,” you said quietly, leading him to the sidewalk. You explained to him that you met your doctor for one of your regular arm-checks.
“I see. So it was just a check-up,” he said. You heard him sigh with relief. “I saw you walk into the hospital and I got a little worried.”
“You could have gone in,” you said simply. You knew that he was among the first few people who found out about your arm injury. And I think, because of the match you had in first year, you also knew that he genuinely cared - not just for your tennis.
“I didn’t want to be in the way of people waiting for their check-ups. But I wasn’t bored because I was thinking,” he said cheerfully.
“Thinking?” You asked, unsurprised.
“If you and I had entered different schools what would have happened?” he asked pensively.
You turned to him inquiringly. “You were thinking about things like that?”
He beamed and nodded. “Maybe we would have bumped into each other at some tournament and a grand match might have occurred.”
“Maybe,” you said quietly.
“Which would you have preferred? Being in the same school, or being in different schools as enemies?” he asked curiously.
“I wonder… Daydream is not to my liking,” you said truthfully.
He chuckled, amused. “That’s so much like you,” he said cheerfully.
Snow flakes began to fall while you were walking and he had asked you if, one day, all of you can climb the mountains together. You answered in your usual way saying, “If the opportunity arises.” You walked slightly ahead of him so I don’t think you had a hint of what he was thinking of back then.
As spring approached, you still continued your daily routine and walked with him. You were elected as the student council president as well as the captain of the tennis club. But however busy you were, you made it a point to meet him at the school gates after school. Sometimes, he would wait for you to finish your work on the council room or at the club room. He would busy himself with a book or some puzzle or watching you as he waited.
In that stretch of time, you never failed to walk with him. It must have felt like a promise on your part; he felt that way, I’m sure. The promise to do that simple act of walking home with him everyday was unspoken - just as most of the things the two of you shared.
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As his lips opened slightly with the suspicion of a half-smile, I said to myself, again: “What moves me so deeply, about this little prince who is sleeping here, is his loyalty to a flower - the image of a rose that shines through his whole being like the flame of a lamp, even when he is asleep…” And I felt him to be more fragile still. I felt the need of protecting him, as if he himself were a flame that might be extinguished by a little puff of the wind… - The Little Prince, by Antoine De Saint-Exupéry
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a/n: I’m hyper. I just watched episode 175 for this. :D Comments will be loved!