Fuji Likes Lady GaGa
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis.
FujiXOC
I didn't always listen to music the way I do now. I used to not even own an iPod, because hey, I never needed one. I had one thing that I loved to do. Tennis was my religion, my love, my oxygen. It's not like it mattered anymore.
I was in 10th grade. I had a pretty good life; great friends, good grades, awesome family. I was walking to school on a rainy day, and it didn't bother me. I liked the rain. I will admit, it was a little cold, though. I heard an engine behind me, and my sister popped her head out the window, pulling to the curb.
"Hurry, Shusuke! Get in!" she laughed, rolling up her window. I smiled, and hopped in the nice red car. It wasn't raining that hard, but enough for me to be soaking wet 5 minutes into my walk. "I brought you some extra clothes," she said. We approached a light that had just turned green.
I didn't even see the other car coming.
I don't even remember much from it, I just remember waking up in the hospital. Eiji was there, sitting in the plastic chair right next to me. My sister and mom were there also, but they were talking to a doctor.
I tried to sit up, but a searing pain shot through my spine. I hissed and threw my head back into the bed. The doctor walked briskly over to me.
"How are you feeling?"
"I've been better," I tried to smile, but that hurt too.
"Do you remember anything about the crash?" he asked, his clipboard out.
"No," I tried to think.
"You got hit by a car. Your left arm was smashed by the window and the fender of the other car. It broke your arm in two places, and thankfully didn't do anything but bruise your ribs and spine."
I tried to take this in. My left arm was in a cast, which was taped to my chest. I rubbed my eyes with my right hand, which was covered in cuts. Some of them were stitched, others were just left alone.
"Will it heal?" my mother asked, tears in her eyes.
I reached out my right hand to touch hers.
"It will eventually, but after extreme therapy and rehabilitation. The bones didn't just get broken; the muscles and tendons were all damaged in his elbow."
That's okay, I could play tennis with my right hand.
"Also, I would advise you not to play tennis for a month or two, for your ribs and spine tissue to heal," the doctor said. I breathed a deep sigh. At least I could play again.
We checked out of the hospital later that night, and we headed home. My mother insisted on bathing me. Tears were in her eyes as she scrubbed carefully over my wounds, which were the color of night.
And that's what happened. 1 week has passed since then. I was replaced on the tennis team by some stupid 11th grader, who I felt unnecessary hostile feelings toward. I went back to school the day after the wreck. I didn't need healing time. The only thing I needed to heal from was not playing tennis.
I know it sounded crazy, but I didn't do much else. I still thought about it all the time and it broke my heart every time a thought went through my head, followed by the sinking feeling when you can't do something you love.
Oishi said I should try another sport, but didn't have anything to offer. I dejectedly walked home after a long day in class. I walked by the football field on my way to the bus. The track kids were out running. I stopped in my tracks.
I could run track.
I was fast! I could jump those little hurdles! It wasn't my first choice, but I need something to keep me in shape for tennis again. I jogged over to the track and stood by some bleachers, looking for someone who seemed to be a captain or a coach.
"Lookin' for someone?" someone called. I looked up and there was a girl on the bleachers, her arms crossed. She had a smile on her beautifully tanned face.
"Um, yeah. Is it too late to join the team?"
She jumped down the stairs two at a time, coming to stand by me.
"Aren't you on the tennis team?" she asked, completely ignoring my question. "I hear you guys are pretty baller."
"Yeah, I am," I smiled. "But I got hurt and can't play for a while."
"Bro!" she exclaimed, rolling up her sleeve to show me terrible red scars on her right arm. "I used to be a swimmer, but that dream went down the tubes when I got hit by a car on my bike. Welcome to the club." She grinned and held her fist out for a bump. "The deadline to join was two weeks ago, but I can probably pull some strings."
"Sweet," I said, but the sound of the tennis balls being hit back and forth pulled my heartstrings.
"When can you start?" she asked, examining the runners. "Shoshode! Heels up!" she called, and a blonde boy who was practicing the long jump gave her a thumbs up and a nod.
"Is tomorrow ok?" I asked, desperate from a distraction.
"Sure thing. Practice starts at 3 and ends at 4:45." She took a few steps forward, heading onto the track. She ran in place for a few seconds like she was going to leave, but she turned back to me, that smile playing on her lips. "One more thing," she paused.
I turned to face her.
"We only have one requirement on this team. You gotta love GaGa." And with a smile, she took off, leaping over the highest hurdle with ease.