You press the pause button the remote and the image stills at once. You wonder, as your pen neatly writes by what percent the speed of Ryoma's Drive B has increased, what life would be like if you could control it with a remote. You shake your head, lips quirking in what could pass for a smile.
You're pretty sure where you'd like to rewind your life back to and hit play. Actually, that's not accurate data. You're torn between two times. That one time where you played him and regrettably never finished the game and the other time, a few years later, when you finished the game. And you won.
Both situations were similar, as you had manipulated the second to mimic the past, but what came after differed astronomically. Heartbreak and disappointment would acutely describe the aftermath of the first. In contrast, nothing happens after the second game. Actually, you can't say that. The two of you shake. But neither of your hands linger longer than normal, no one's breath hitches.
Only, you don't just want to go back. It wouldn't be enough. You know it wouldn't. You'd want to stay there. Forever. In a time where the two of you were invincible and really believed the world was yours for the taking.
Here at Seigaku, you're known for your logic, your analytic skills. For your evil concoctions and training schedules. But before that, you were known for your doubles tennis. Known as the Doctor. What you forget to mention but what the other Regulars probably assume anyway, is that you have a photographic memory. And you remember with vivid detail what happened after your sweaty hand left his. It wasn't unusual, predictable even, but it had a profound effect on you. Your eyes burned and you couldn't quite convince yourself it was the sun. He left to walk with his team, you went back to yours. That was it. The end. The thought still causes your breath to catch.
You close your eyes, remembering another day. The moment before Ryoma's match at Hyoutei. The heat of the sun beats down on you, the anticipated victory of Seigaku pumping through your veins. You're distracted when you see the bright yellow uniforms. Sanada and Yukimura are impressive, you've no doubt, but you can't keep your eyes away from the third member. The third monster. He belongs with them, his team. And you belong with yours, no matter how fast your heart speeds up at the sight of his shuttered smile. It is strange how most people tend overlook both of you. No doubt Yukimura and Sanada overshadow him as Tezuka and Fuji do you.
Except one person seems to realize, to recognize the quiet power he posses.
Kirihara Akaya is curiously enough tagging along beside the strategist.
The two of you may have once, at some point in your lives, fit together, belonged together. But you don't anymore. He belongs with them, you think. He doesn't belong beside you.
You pull out an old photograph. When he moved away, you thought about destroying it as he'd destroyed your heart. You're glad you hadn't. You take out a notebook, this one also green. You put it there, a reminder not of the past, but of the future.
~Fin