Scattered with Uneasy Hearts
Author's note: After watching Chihayafuru I was curious about the Hundred Poets poems hence I did some online research, and credits for the poem quotations go to a wordpress site by the name of 100poets, which also credits Professor Mostow for the English translations! I've only borrowed them for this little fic :)
33.
In these spring days
with the tranquil light encompassing
the four directions
why should the blossoms scatter
with uneasy hearts?
~ Ki no Tomonori
All his life, Taichi has been haunted by a recurring thought:
You'll never be as good as Wataya Arata.
Even though he has not heard from Arata for the past three years, he has no doubt that Arata is a prominent Class A karuta player now.
It has always been his dream to become the Meijin. How much closer is he now, to his goal?
Now, as he and Chihaya walk along the path leading to the bookstore, he feels unsure about meeting Arata again. He has had an uneasy relationship with Arata, even from the time they were little. Taichi refuses to admit it, but deep down he knows that Chihaya's bond to Arata – unclouded by a childhood wrong and petty jealousy – is definitely stronger than his own.
The way is beautiful; the trees are still full of late cherry blossoms, shafts of sunlight filter through the green and pink canopy. They walk silently, side by side.
How nice it is, to be on our own. Just the two of us.
Stray petals float aloft in the breeze, and Chihaya's hair billows out gently behind her. Chihaya's frenzied desire to see Arata seems to have dissipated – she is uncharacteristically quiet as her slow steps fall into synchrony with Taichi's, her expression unreadable.
Just what is she thinking? Does Arata matter so much to her?
He needs to know.
The memory of the night before is still vivid in his mind, down to the smallest detail – the way Chihaya had hurtled towards him with unexpected force, the slam of body against body, the earnest sparkle in her eyes that accompanied her every word. Was it only out of sheer exultation over her Class A victory?
Impulsively, Taichi reaches his hand towards hers – the long slim fingers with the short nails, diligently trimmed for karuta.
A sudden gust of wind blows as a lone cyclist whizzes past them – Chihaya turns – his fingers close over empty air. The next thing he knows, Chihaya is sprinting after the cyclist, grabbing the back of his sweater, and both tumble down the grassy slope in an ungraceful, muddy heap.
The glasses – the black hair – the thin pale face –
"I've missed you, I've missed you!"
In a split second, the ghosts of Taichi's insecurities come alive once more.
39.
Though I reveal my love
as sparingly as the sparse reeds
that grow in low bamboo fields,
it overwhelms me—why is it
that I must love her so?
~ Sangi Minamoto no Hitoshi