Disclaimer: I own neither PoT nor the characters therein.
A.N. Written for Accidental.Enlightenment.
Learning
Midnight. Takashi looked at the clock and sighed. Not even half done with the practice sushi for the night, and he had to get up early the next morning for the class meeting. Another morning of exhaustion, and straight home from school to work in the sushi shop until midnight or later again. Day after day of practice, and there was still no visible progress when it came to his sushi.
The routine, thought Takashi, was getting rather old. He pushed the sushi back and leaned his head on the counter. Just for a minute.
In tennis, at least, he could always tell when he got better. Not right away, necessarily, and not very quickly, but it had been there – tangible, substantial, the knowledge that he had beat Arai in four sets one week and straight sets the next. But with the sushi it just wasn't that simple. One day his father would say it improved, the next that the rice wasn't clean enough, the next that it was absolutely terrible and Takashi needed to focus. For all his work, there seemed to be little, if any, correlating improvement.
It's not that he regretted giving up tennis; that had been his choice, and it had been the right decision to make – both for him and his family. He couldn't regret that. He just would have liked it better if washing the rice and slicing the fish and rolling it all together came as easily – offered as much of a release – as picking up that racket and swinging.
Takashi didn't even notice the footsteps on the stairs until his father shook his shoulder. Takashi looked up blearily. Two-forty-one by the clock, and the sushi on the counter in front of him was looking tired.
Could sushi look tired?
"-should go to bed, Takashi."
Takashi looked up and blinked. "Have to finish the sushi first." He reached for the platter in front of him before he could think. "Just a bit more."
"No. You-" His father sighed and pulled the plate of sushi out of reach. He looked Takashi up and down with his eyes, studying him, somewhat like Tezuka had done when Takashi became a regular, and, suddenly, grinned. "You've been doing just fine, Takashi. No need to overwork yourself."
"You did just fine, Taka-san. Now the rest of the team's gonna have to try harder, to measure up to that."
Takashi smiled. It had taken three years of practice to reach the Nationals, after all. He reached over and grabbed back the plate, half expecting it to light up his hands like his racket had. It didn't, of course, but – maybe that would come later. "I'll just stick it in the fridge, then. For tomorrow."
Maybe tomorrow, he thought, he'd get it right. He'd just have to try harder.