Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Title: doushite tennis ga daisuki desu ka?
Pairing: Fuji + Yuuta
Description: Yuuta hopelessly plays a match he knows he'll never win… (note: Fuji and Yuuta pairing)
Disclaimer: Tennis no Oujisama isn't mine. However, the poem 'Tennis Player' is. (I made it for school.)
"Can I play tennis with you, Aniki?" My hand reached out towards his as he dragged the tennis racket on the ground all the way from the park to our house. He was still too short to lift it up since his arm was hurting.
He nodded at me and smiled as he patted my head. "Of course, Yuuta."
I reached out to grab a hold of his red racket. It had long lost its luster after all the abuse, but it weighed a ton.
I wanted to help him lift it.
Instead, he reached out for my hand to block the gesture and held it all the way home.
'Skeeetch' went the annoying racquet on the ground.
I didn't understand it at first. But years later, I figured out that he didn't want me to carry the burden he had carried. With the energy and love he invested into playing with that racket, he was becoming disliked and envied by many people.
Probably no one else but me knew about this. Then again, strangely, I was happy with this unusual bond we both shared through it.
Without words, he told me that day, "I'll deal with it."
But what he didn't tell me was…
…it was Tezuka Kunimitsu's first racquet.
doushite tennis ga daisuki desu ka?
(why do I love tennis so much?)
By miyamoto yui
I wish this was a dream, then I could wake up.
But I know it isn't. And you know why? I can feel it. I can feel my veins contracting to the point of not letting anything through that every part of my body begins to ache.
Most of all, it's my heart that's the first to go. It's the most excruciating as it cringes and I clench my teeth even though I smile at my brother, who is playing against me. He is standing on the other side of the net and standing over the baseline.
As always, he is always out of my reach.
Without knowing, he pushes me away. Without knowing, he scrapes my skin with invisible marks.
I don't want to be here with my hands holding my racket so tightly that I can feel the imprint of the handle in my palms. I can see my knuckles turn white. But here I am looking directly at my brother and wondering how come we're always separated. Somewhere, along the way, we always seemed to be on opposite sites of the net. It paralleled our paths of life.
But somehow, I want to be with him. I feel that I should be there.
It isn't your fault though, Aniki. I know it is my fault for always listening to all the people comparing us. Syusuke's the cuter one. He always does so well in school. He's the tennis tensai.
And where does that leave me? Even though I love tennis, where do I fit in?
But that doesn't matter. What does this all mean to you, Aniki?
That's what I really want to know.
Every time I try to break away, you're always there blocking my path or you're waiting for me. You're always confusing me.
You're always looking back and I don't know if it's because you expect me to be there. Am I a worthy opponent? Are you feeling sorry for me? Are you pleased with me?
I can't tell.
Not with that seemingly complacent face you always seem to have.
And as I look up to the referee, his sharp eyes convey almost no sense of emotion. In a deceiving glance, he is cold and appears almost placid. But I know, he's the one Aniki chose in some way. He doesn't have to tell me.
I can already tell how much he loves him.
Why? Why…?
That's why I'm here. I'm here…
…to get him back? From what?
I'm here to prove that I'm still here.
Do I have a brother complex?
I'm here because I am losing a fight that I knew should have never begun inside of my head and heart. It began a long time ago when I asked Aniki if I could learn tennis. It took all his time and he wouldn't play with me as much as he used to.
I was so jealous of that racquet.
I wanted to help my brother carry it all the way home so that his precious racquet wouldn't be covered in more scratches, but some part of me, the ugly side, wanted to rip it apart with my hands. I wanted to make my fingertips bleed if I could pluck all the strings mercilessly, pouring all my vexation into those few moments of pleasure.
It was the first thing that ever took me away from my Aniki.
And so, I wanted to learn and understand what tennis meant to him. More than anything, I wanted to still be a part of his life. I wanted to understand why did Aniki smile at certain things and frowned at others even though he looked so strong.
As I took up a racquet that Onee-san bought me, I practiced swinging next to my brother. I took in all his instructions and made them my mantras.
One, two, three…
Somehow, I learned to love it myself. But I refused to distinguish the difference between tennis and him…
At times, when he held my waist to balance my weight out, I would smile. All his attention was mine all over again and we were both enjoying something together once more. Had I won him over?
Was he looking at me again? Was he proud of me?
Yes, his smile reassured me of that. It was the one where his eyes were slightly open, looking at me with such affection that I ended up dropping the tennis ball accidentally every time. That was long before I learned to just get mad and blush at him with my mild protests.
Would I always be the little brother that had nothing to show for in our family?
No, not in his eyes. That's all that mattered anyway.
Was that the real reason I was here? Why was I so dumb to fight for such a lost cause?
As Tezuka-san sat on the referee's seat, he looked down at our game. It was the game I had silently declared out of nowhere when I saw them coming out of a café together. They were actually laughing. Tezuka-san had his left hand over his mouth and chuckled as Aniki touched his shoulder, leaning up to whisper into his ear.
I turned around, but he already saw me. And stupid me, I followed Aniki to the tennis courts in Seigaku. It was already evening and I should have been at home doing homework or distracting myself with music.
Anything.
I wanted to be _anywhere_ but _here_.
"You said you wanted to become a stronger player? Let's practice together," Aniki told me with a grin that held a glimpse of the gentleness that was only for me.
"I want to win you in an official match."
Why did I have to say something foolish like that? Official match?
This was more official than it could get. What more could I ask for than for him to referee and for you to stand on the other side of this court?
As the moon shone upon us, I could feel a coldness entering my body as if it were burning a hole from my heart and onto the surface of my skin with a powerdrill.
You shouldn't have been there.
I shouldn't have been here.
"Love - 15..." That deep voice calmly announced the scores the more we played.
With my heartbeat pumping viciously through my ears, Tezuka-san's voice was the only thing registering, somewhat, into my head. I was playing by instinct anyway.
Left, right, front, back…
I was sweating as I ran from one place to another in this constrained little green and white box, marking the boundary of my true life. My breath was heavy as I dizzily regarded his strong figure before mine, attentive of my every move.
Yes, playing with you was always the best thing in my life.
That's why I always tried so hard to reach you…
But you weren't ever mine to keep.
The feeling I have for you is more than admiration for being my brother or how much I think how cool you are when you do anything, especially tennis. It makes me drown in shame and proudness as I walk a freezing path filled with ice picks thrusting into my feet.
Was this the answer I longed to have? Was this what it meant to become stronger?
All the while, I said it was to defeat you.
But you knew more than anyone, it was to crush myself and start all over again…
I see your eyes more clearly than I ever have.
This is it. That's why I'll always follow you even though you'll eventually leave me because that's just how life goes. So, I conceitedly put up that silly façade of saying I was going to change schools with you and your disappointed face, though you respected my decision with an arm over my shoulders.
To become strong, you've got to let go.
You only hope what you're aspiring for will come back to you.
/Pwack. Pwack. Pwack.
Sweat drops to the ground
while painfully holding my racket
as if it were the weight of an anvil.
I glance at the cheering crowd,
but I'm deaf, no sound,
just watching the blinding jade space.
I'm moving-left, right; front, back.
The white lines separate me
from the world outside.
Swinging back and forth,
I abuse myself out of passion.
Faster and stronger,
I bounce to and from the net.
Nothing, but green;
I make it over the net,
lonely in the sea of dark lime,
Inside the white lines,
Unbelievably in one piece,
unmoved from one place./
So far, this was the best game I ever played in my whole life…
"6-5."
/The ref shouts the results,
but I'm stuck to the ground:
lifeless - bleeding from green to green.
I'm no longer a player,
I'm the tennis ball being played./
I fell to the ground. I was spent.
I smiled as I hit the comforting, hard, green surface.
"You played me seriously, Aniki…" I mumbled as I saw him frantically jump over the net.
I couldn't hear anything else as I closed my eyes and once more, my brother took me into his arms lovingly. I could feel his frustration and the hurt he felt through the quiet rage in between his hands.
He always blamed himself.
Now, for what, I never knew…
All I knew was that tennis was the worst and best thing in the world. It gives me the best pleasure even when I know things will get more adverse each time I take up my racquet. I never know if I'll come back intact at the end of a match.
But even so, more than anything, what I love the best is that whenever I blink up at your face, you're smiling at me. Like when I was little and I fainted, you took me all the way home like this even when I helplessly fought back.
You're always trying so hard for me that I know how much you love me.
I just always wanted more…
I want to cry because I want more than that…
Stop smiling at me with that wonderful grin of yours. It makes everything more painful.
Ironically, I think this is why I love tennis so much.
It's the only game where the points don't make any sense. But most of all, it officially says,
"Love means 'nothing'."
Owari.
-
Author's note: I originally wanted to do something with Ryouma, but since I thought I'd have an opportunity to use Yuuta, I thought I'd write for him instead. It is rare to see him talk, but I love him so much. (I just can't seem to get in a Shinji or Akira fic, damn it all… you probably don't know how much I love them as much as Tezuka, Yuuta, Fuji, Kaidoh, and Eiji.)
I have been trying to push issues through my writing to make people more conscious about how they view themselves, others, and life in general. Maybe it is a bit deep and such a large goal for what I love to do with my time, but this is my way of telling my perspectives on life, learn about myself, and about you too.
And I'm pretty sure no one thinks in such a linear sequence so I decided to experiment once more and make the formatting strange to capture the confusion and delve into the feelings Yuuta has.
As always, I thank you for reading my fics. Because I know you could have been reading a million other things, but you chose to spend your time with me. So thank you from the bottom of my heart. It took four months to finally complete this, but I hope you had fun with me.
Love,
Yui
February 15, 2005, 4:48 AM