Boundless Faith
"Akutsu-senpai will definitely win!" was what Dan Taichi said over and over again before Akutsu's matches. It was all admiration; he had long legs, while Dan was short and felt like he needed to drink several gallons of milk a day. Akutsu had well-developed muscles, while Dan was small and scrawny, poking at his flabbiness every once in a while. Dan believed that Akutsu could do any sport in the world.
Of course, absolutely anyone could do sports. But Dan believed that Akutsu could do all of them, and do them well.
And still, when Akutsu lost to Echizen Ryoma, Dan, although shocked and unable to find his voice for the first few minutes, managed to croak out, "You won't lose next time, senpai!"
But Akutsu laughed, and Dan though with a start that he had never heard this laugh before. It was bitter and unlike any laugh of Akutsu's that Dan had ever heard.
"Senpai?"
"I won't be playing tennis anymore."
Dan was in such shock that when he finally recovered, the Jimmies were prodding at his notebook, which had fallen on the floor, and Sengoku was talking about slipping a noodle up Dan's nose to see his reaction.
Dan's headband fell over one eye.
Dan wasn't the greatest at convincing and persuading (especially when it was Akutsu he was trying to sway) but he still had the will to try.
"Why?" he asked, suddenly finding he needing to know. He knew that Akutsu knew what he was talking about, so there was a small chance of getting out of answering his question.
Akutsu didn't say anything; he continued to watch the tennis courts. The school day had ended, along with tennis practice, but the two of them had not yet left the grounds. The tennis balls were still on the ground, the cart having fallen over during practice; Dan hadn't picked them up yet.
"At least," Dan tried again, "you can try to take some other sport! Like boxing, with Sengoku-senpai!"
Akutsu said nothing still. He bent down, picked up a tennis ball and swivelled it around in his hand, observing it with wide, penetrating eyes. "Oi, brat."
Dan snapped his head up, and the tennis ball that Akutsu had been holding previously sailed towards him. He held up his hands and tried to catch it, but it bounced out of his hold and onto the ground to the side. Dan ran after it until it stopped rolling and he picked it up, almost gingerly.
"Thanks."
The word was quiet, and Dan knew that it had cost the older boy a lot of pride to say it. Akutsu turned to walk away, and Dan called out:
"Akutsu-senpai, I still believe in you!"
Akutsu didn't turn around, didn't stop, but Dan swore he heard Akutsu's familiar laugh, the one he'd always heard on the courts and the one that was unlike that other one the other day. Dan sighed, and then looked across the courts, still fondling the ball in his hand. He spotted flowers, growing near the side and went over, plucked one; smiled. The daisy petals waved gently. Dan smiled, and then looked back across the courts.
There were still so many tennis balls to pick up.
Owari
2009.11.11
