August 19, 2007 to August 20, 2007 (REFORMATTED May 1, 2010)

Disclaimers: I do not own any part whatsoever of Prince of Tennis.
Summary: We go back to the past with…Tezuka Kunimitsu and his relationship with his grandmother. Enjoy! And don't forget to review please!

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Fallen Petals
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I would always visit my Grandmother whenever I could as a young child, for she was always so old and lonely when my grandfather went out to do some grocery shopping. I would laugh and ogle at her actions - the way she would chop the onions so swift yet neatly; the way she would bend down to her knees and do the laundry with water in the bathtub; the way she would pick out ripe produce from her mini vegetable garden on our front lawn; the way she would always shower her grandchildren with affection and lots of love, especially me. To her, I was probably the most loyal and obedient out of my other five cousins, and I would listen to every word she spoke, whether I understood it or not.

My Grandmother was the most kind and gentle soul there was, and yet she was so diligent and hardworking. While my grandfather was out or busy with his daily doings, she would take care of the entire household and watch over her grandchildren which were "left behind" by their parents who had to attend their shift for work. Everyday we would play crazily in the entire house, making a large mess in every room. Once she called us for lunch, we would all run upstairs as hungry as foxes. Meanwhile, she would sigh to herself in exasperation and take the time to clean up each room we built a garbage dump in.

But of course, she would also serious about our behavior and education. She would come with the whipping stick if we weren't reading or doing anything educational at a certain time. Or if we tried to bite each other or do stunts involving jumping out the window or eating spiders from the basement, she would tap us on the hands softly repetitively before letting us go and play again. Firstly, you had to point out what you did wrong and apologize to her. Then she would whip you on the hands, and make you apologize to everyone who was involved for your terrible behavior and all. Grandmother was always the kind one, so she baked us cookies from time to time after that.

"Grandmother!" I would cry as I tugged her kimono – she always remained the same during the years – "I don't want to go back home with Kaa-san and Papa!"

"Now, now, Kunimitsu," said Grandmother as she bent down so that she was leveled with the bespectacled child, "Kaa-san and Papa love you as much as I do, and you must go home with them."

"But I love Grandmother the most!" I wailed uncontrollably as I buried my head into her clothes and started crying. She would stroke my hair contently, and in no time at all my tears would dry up, and I would be smiling again. Although I reluctantly parted with my Grandmother after hugging her for countless hours, I would wave goodbye and yell to my loudest, "Grandmother, I promise to call you when I get home!" She would nod and acknowledge my promise every time I said that, smiling brightly.

Once the car stopped in front of my house, I would bolt right out of my seat and impatiently tap my foot, waiting for my parents to unlock the front door. Immediately I rushed to the phone and dialed my grandmother's phone number, humming a tune in my head as the rings endlessly sounded through the telephone. Soon, I heard a voice over the phone lines,

"Hello? How may I help you?"

Hearing that deep and refreshing voice, I toothily smile at myself, musing around my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I calmed down before politely responding, "Hi Grandmother! It's me, Kunimitsu!" It wasn't that easy hiding my excitement and childish voice.

"Ah, Kunimitsu, how are you?" asked my Grandmother. And soon I would find myself pacing around the table dresser which held the phone, curling my hair and holding the portable phone to my ear, chattering away nonstop. Grandmother would intently listen to all my complaints and problems until Kaa-san sternly told me to stop or else our phone bill would explode. I nodded my head and unwillingly said goodbye to my Grandmother, and she promised me to see me tomorrow – the same as usual.

Soon I grew to be a junior in my elementary school, and around that time I had found another great companion – tennis. After discovering it, I was so stunned the way the tennis ball would beautifully fly in the air before being returned by the fantastic tennis player. From that day, I worked extra hard to become one of the best tennis players yet.

My parents and grandfather did not support this very much, but my Grandmother would always be there for me. She would happily be at my side, watching every move that I would make, every decision pondered. Grandmother loved the idea that I had something else to do besides school and spending time with her, for she believed that as a child, every child should have something they would come to love and find importance in. She went as far as to sewing proper tennis gear to wear and having one of her friends give her a book about tennis for me. I was so happy that Grandmother did all this for me, and I would thank her when I had the chance.

But something was wrong with Grandmother. After I found tennis, she seemed more distant. She spent less time around the house, cheerfully cleaning up or picking ripe produce. Rather, she would stay in her room and read books or stay in the kitchen and wipe the same plate that was dried many minutes ago over and over. Once I was a senior in my elementary school, she had moved out her house, leaving grandfather, uncle, aunt, and one of my cousins living together.

I always worried about Grandmother as a child that someday she would break apart. That encouraging smile of hers can brighten up anyone's day. But she is always so hardworking she barely takes any breaks for herself. She works herself over the limit, and I have to yell at my own Grandmother in order for her to stop and relax. Moving into a small apartment was a big worry on my list, and once she officially settled in, I would ask Kaa-san or Papa to drive or walk me to Grandmother's apartment.

The first time I went in it was a very snug and comfortable place. The furniture was arranged neatly and designed to comforting. The place was spick and span, and the potted plants on the table dressers flourished and grew splendidly. I had brought a bouquet of lilacs that day, for those were one of her favorite flowers which she always planted back home in the large expanse of the backyard. Accepting it gratefully, she hugged me warmly and said, "Thank you, Kunimitsu."

I nodded and settled myself on the couch to watch over Grandmother for a while. Not that Kaa-san would be back until early evening to pick me up again. I watched some television and read some books on her wooden shelf, and observed pictures from her photo albums. Every now and then I would scream, "Grandmother! Who's this with the furry beard?" She would chuckle heartily before giving me a plateful of cookies and a glass of milk for me to nourish and answering my question.

And when Kaa-san came to pick me up, I reluctantly said goodbye to my grandmother again. When I got home, I would quickly call her new phone number, and she would always pick up, the two of us talking about the most random things.

But when I became a middle school student, one year after the last year of elementary, I was the one more distant than ever. Now that I mostly focused on tennis, I was also beginning to mature as a man. My mind only centered on tennis and education. The rest were pretty much history.

Of course, I still called my Grandmother occasionally. Our conversations and phone calls seemed shorter at times, and some were nearly empty or rather hard to start. The two of us had difficulties communicating to each other now and then. It was halfway through the year when I entirely stopped calling her over the phone. My priorities were school and tennis now. My own health wasn't any concern to me at all, and I did not care at all.

Whenever I came home and nervously glanced over the phone, I would remind myself to call my Grandmother. She was lonely after all, living in the apartment all alone with barely any visitors. And I hadn't called her in days – no, months. But another part of me made me forget the promise to myself, and I'd end up skipping the perfect time to call my Grandmother.

It was summer then, and I was about to be a freshman in a new school. My parents informed me that the three of us and grandfather would be moving with us to Tokyo. I only nodded my head in agreement, unaware of the most important person that I would be leaving behind. It certainly wasn't tennis, it could have been my friends, but it was…

My Grandmother.

A week before my departure to the new bustling city, I nearly killed myself to make one last call to my Grandmother. Picking up the portable phone and dialing half of the number, I wondered if my Grandmother would be angry that I hadn't contacted her for a long time. I hesitantly finished the number and placed the phone next to my ear, mentally worrying that she would reject me and be cross with me.

The phone rang at least five times, and she still hadn't picked up. My heart rate increased quite dramatically as I gripped the phone more tightly. Why isn't she picking up? I thought, tapping my foot impatiently. Grandmother didn't have one of those message lines, so you couldn't leave a message for her and the phone would ring endlessly. I canceled the phone call and tried again, telling myself that Grandmother was probably out somewhere and would come back soon.

That night, she never picked up. Not even once.

Two days before I had to move out of home and into a new city with my parents and grandfather, I promised myself to visit my Grandmother once last time. And I didn't break it this time, which was a relief to me. Otherwise, I don't know what I would have done to myself…

I had just turned twelve, and decided to bring a bouquet of the reddest bloomed roses my grandmother had left behind. I had always taken care of what she left behind myself, although I didn't do a very good job on it. But I managed to keep her roses and tomatoes alive for the past two years, so at least that showed I had some green thumb.

I slowly entered the elevator to her floor and walked hesitantly towards her door. I closed my eyes and pulled back when I was about to knock on the wooden door. Shaking my head and mentally telling myself to just face my Grandmother, I rapped on the door gently, hoping to get some sort of response. But the door remained closed, and I took a peek to see the same wooden features.

Again I knocked, but no one came to greet me or open the door. I nearly gave up, throwing the roses into the air, but controlling myself and taking heavy breaths, I leaned on the door and waited patiently. Suddenly, I felt myself falling backwards, and I hit my head on the hard surface while the bouquet rolled into small kitchen. So the door was unlocked all this time! I thought to myself as I got back onto my two standing feet.

I searched around the place as I picked up the lost bouquet, hoping to find some sort of sign from my Grandmother. The place was as neat and quiet as usual, but the window was left open as the wind swayed her sewn curtains. The sunlight shone in brightly on the mush carpet, revealing a lighter hue to the dark brown floor rug.

I peeked around the kitchen, bathroom, and living room in sight of the elderly woman. But it was the same; neat and quiet, yet the windows were open. I wondered what was going on. Making my way to the last room, her bedroom, I knocked on the door before entering her private space.

The entire place was shaded since the curtains were blocking the sunlight from entering the room. I could still see though, with my vision. I saw the outlines of her bed with the covers neatly folded, the chest drawer with a large mirror attached to it opposite of her sleeping place, and the table lamp next to the small chest drawer beside her large master bed.

I walk and sit on her neatly made bed, the covers which have been freshly washed based on the soft smelling scent that Grandmother would use every time when doing the laundry. My hand is still grasped tightly around the end of the bouquet as I twist my head in every direction, hoping to find some clue on the whereabouts of my Grandmother, since I now assumed that she had gone somewhere.

And suddenly, my grip on the tip of the bouquet loosens, and the roses fall head in first, making hard contact with the floor. Its petals broke from its home, fluttering everywhere and landing gently on the wooden ground. The wrap around the stemmed roses crinkled the smooth surface of the fine tissue paper. The sweet, fluorescent aroma of the roses which I had continued growing for Grandmother scattered, leaving behind an empty smelling atmosphere.

Who'd ever thought the damn phone was missing from its receiver?

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Owari
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A/N: I'm trying to imagine Tezuka on how he felt towards his grandmother. I also related this to my own personal experience with my grandmother, so mind the sappy thoughts and lines! And if you are wondering about an epilogue, no, there won't be one. Why? Because I want my readers to interpret some sort of ending. Please do not publish an ending for this story though, thank you! You may do so in the reviews... Please review and give me any feedback! I am very happy to be criticized because there is always room for improvement. Arigatou!

Ja ne, and I do not own any part of Prince of Tennis!