She's sitting on the little bench in the small park next to the very big airport, watching the jumbo jets fly overhead. She's looking straight up at them, the blue, partially cloudy sky providing a backdrop. The planes fly so close she thinks she can see faces in the windows, but then that's just silly. She closes her eyes as another one roars by.
What is she going to do? Her father, the famous martial arts expert and sometimes not-so-expert tennis player, and her mother, the professional, six-figure salary photographer, have called her to journey with them this summer on their tour of the dojo in China. It's a great opportunity to see new sights and meet new people.
But she knows that if she goes, she'll end up staying. While she fell in love with tennis, martial arts are her life. It was like breathing. And when she wasn't on the battlefield, it felt like she was drowning. That's why she's clumsy all the time. She couldn't move right when she wasn't in her uniform and performing a kata. That's why she forgets things all the time. She had to concentrate on not using too much force in almost everything she did, and definitely not issuing challenges of battle to her fellow classmates just to see if they were really as unskilled in that area as she thought they were. That's why she's so non-confrontational. She doesn't want to hurt anyone who can't defend himself because of lack of proper training. That's why she was so shy. She couldn't fathom communicating correctly with anyone besides through her fists. She just wasn't comfortable anywhere that wasn't inside a dojo or an impromptu battleground.
Yes, if she goes, she'll stay. Because martial arts is like breathing. The thrill of the fight the inhale; the rush of adrenaline when you get hit the exhale; the counterattack the inhale; the block the exhale. Nothing else compares. She tried tennis. While it was fun and thrilling, it wasn't like breathing.
And her heart yearns to get on one of those big planes, to fly off and see the big sky and the big dojo and the big world of all types of martial arts. All the grand, wide, and gaping possibilities.
But she's sitting here on this little bench with doubts, holding her breath. Because there's a boy who loves tennis so much that she fell in love with it to. And that boy would never look her direction twice in one day because he loves tennis so much. And she loves him because of it. Because for him, tennis is like breathing.
His golden eyes flash in her mind's eye, issuing a challenge to any brave enough to meet him on the court, and she just can't help sitting here on this little bench in this small park. She blames it on the lack of oxygen to her brain.
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Author's Note: Those aren't sentence fragments. They're meant to be there. My wonderful English teacher Matra Kreig once told me something similar to this: the mark of a good writer is that he knows all the rules and then knows when to break them. I like my fic the way it is, so while I would appreciate any grammatical errors, etc. pointed out to me, please don't notify me to the fragments unless you're sure they're not intentional.
And yes, Sakuno is extremely AU. But that's my prerogative as a writer. ;p
Thanks so much for reading,
Asanisan