Title: And I Will Climb Mount Fuji
Summary: The name 'Fuji' carries too much weight. And it is all dumped onto Syuusuke.
A/N: Again, another oneshot about society's expectations killing a person.
And I Will Climb Mount Fuji
I, the genius. I, the tennis player. I am Fuji Syuusuke.
The racket goes sideways. A perfect slice. A point. Fifteen-love.
The genius Fuji. The Fuji Syuusuke so natural at tennis, the he who cannot even squash his own pride and beg his brother to stay.
I'm sick of being Fuji Yuuta. I'm so sick of being always aniki's little brother. Those are Yuuta's last words to him before he left for St Rudolph.
I do not contradict him. I watch as Yuuta's shadow follows him timidly out the slammed door. The hinges creak even after the slam. The door is still shaking.
A perfect grade, a perfect student. The genius Fuji.
Fuji-kun, I look forward to reading your work again this time. His teacher winks at him as he collects the homework and leaves. I find my nails digging into my palm.
I still remember the day Yuuta left. It was a very miserable day for me. My little brother, leaving home, because of his beloved tennis. My little brother, hating his beloved tennis, because of his beloved brother. My little brother, hating his beloved brother, because of his beloved tennis.
The shadow loomed over the doorway as Yuuta slammed the door. The shadow had looked very, very tired.
The racket swings. A perfect return. A point. Thirty-love.
You're a genius Syuusuke. You're on a totally different level than the others. I'm proud to be your father. His father tells him, smiling. I find myself grasping the hem of my shirt. Words like: ' If I were not a genius, you would not be proud?' do not come out.
Aniki, you're really good at everything. Yuuta tells him, half-scowling, half-admiring. Words like: 'If I were not good at anything, would you still be my brother?' do not come out.
Today is the first time Yuuta comes home for the weekend after leaving for St. Rudolph. I should be enthusiastic, but I find the weight of my guilt crush me again, and I cannot bear to lift my head.
Yuuta is talking excitedly about his new school. Something about a manager called Mizuki. I do not pay much attention. I find myself looking at the shadows.
Father, Mother, Yumiko and Yuuta were all sitting at places which gave them long, gloomy shadows. I had none of those. I squinted my eyes at the radiance of the light.
I would like a shadow, too, sometime.
The racket hits. A perfect serve. A point. Forty-love.
Why am I even playing tennis?
Because that is the most natural thing to do. It's what people expect me to do.
The racket comes down. A perfect counter.
So many kinds of expectations. So many promises. So much potential.
When Yuuta left, I was jealous. Jealous that he could leave so easily, that he could toss aside all sorts of expectations aside, so carelessly, so nonchalantly, like it didn't even bother him-
I shone too bright. The brightness hurt a lot of people. It gave Yuuta a shadow to follow.
I am like the sun. The sun is very, very, very, bright. No one can come close to its radiance. No one can ever touch it. It has no shadow close enough to it to follow. I have no shadow to follow, I have no purpose. I have no goal.
What is the point in playing tennis?
Having genius is a burden. You chase away everyone close to you with your immense radiance. You are lonely.
But I persist. I keep smiling no matter what, because I do not wish to be alone. I try to be amiable, because I have already lost a brother and I do not wish to lose more.
Fuji Syuusuke. I detest that name. Fuji. Fuji. Fuji. I hate the label that comes with it.
Yuuta is hurt by it. Yuuta hates me, but I will continue to love him, because it is what everyone expects me to do. I will protect him, because that's what he expects me to do.
So many, many promises. So much potential.
The sun, unapproachable, untouchable. No matter how much the clouds dim your radiance, there is still nothing in this galaxy that can come close to you.
But perhaps there are more suns outside this galaxy in this universe to compare with your shine.
Game set and match, six games to love.
But in the end, who is the winner anyway?
End.
