Chapter 10: Something I'll Never Know Series: The Best Sushi Chef…Maybe?

Standard Disclaimer Applies

-oOo-

He sat on the counter table, with his head hanging, being supported by his hands. The usual noisy, lively and light filled sushi shop was awfully quiet and dim tonight. There was no laughter or cheering, no celebrations or ranting. All there was was empty space. All that could be heard was the dripping faucets, drip, drip, drip, on the stainless basin. The knives were just lying on the kitchen sink, unsharpened and unused for several days now. There was no "burning mode", no energetic cheers of encouragement, no friendly smiling face from the resident power player, rather, ex-power player.

"Takashi, remember; you have to slide the knife in parallel, smoothly and gently so that the blades will even out. Now, try it again."

He finally lifts his head up and blinks a few times before walking around the counter. He reached for a knife and stares at it, he marvels at how sharp it was, how the stainless steel would sparkle when the dim lights hanging over the counter hits it. He sighs for the millionth time that day, he remembers the first time he ever fillet a fish; it was a disaster, he ended up filleting his finger more than the fish meat. A small smile creeps its way to his lips, more like a grin really, but the closest he has ever been to an actual smile in weeks. He walks over to the sharpening stone and gently places the knife over it, he inhales deeply and slowly but surely slid the knife back and forth, until he got the rhythm.

"Stop complaining and concentrate on making the nigiri Takashi. Baka! Don't roll it that way, I already told you a million times the rough side of the nori should be facing upward."

He gently places the knife on the neatly arranged knife holder that he installed on the counter a few years back, of course at first it was disapproved of, but eventually accepted in the end. He pulls on the basket under the counter where they keep the nori and began checking if there were still enough stocks, thankfully there was enough. One by one, he began to feel the nori, thinking to himself, rough goes up, rough goes up, rough goes up; over and over and over he recited it in his head, like a child memorizing his first poem.

"There is always more than one way to do things, just like nigiri can be inside out or outside in."

"Demo, shouldn't the rough side be facing up?"

"Will you just listen to what I'm saying?"

"H-Hai."

He began flipping the nori over and over and over. They did say there are always two sides to a coin and maybe the same is true for sushi making. He turns his head and directs his attention to the hangiri neatly placed on the counter top. He grabs hold of it and began mixing imaginary rice. How many times has he done this before? How many times will he do it in the future? He closes his eyes and remembers all the times he mashed the rice to pulp it looked like glue, or the time he was not paying attention to his mixing that he ended up not mixing the bottom part of the rice, but most especially the time when he forgot to let the rice cool down before putting in the vinegar and seasoning that it looked like porridge.

"If it taste like vinegar add more sugar, if it lacks taste put on more salt; if it simply isn't there yet, add some more vinegar. Just like how it is in life you need to balance out the flavors, balance out your decisions. Ne, Takashi, are you sure you want to give up karate for tennis?"

He stares at the wall, tapping his fingers on the wooden counter. He stares at his shadow, he closed his eyes, he inhales deeps before throwing his first punch, and another, and another, until all he could feel was air moving around, his body swaying to the rhythm of each punch, each kick, each elbow hit to his imaginary target. When he was satisfied, he rested his arms on his side and bowed to an unseen opponent. He still had it in him, even after all these years, he still remembered the art, the discipline.

"Thinner Takashi, is should be about 1cm think. There you go, better. Are they your new set of friends?"

"E?"

"Those five young fellows you walked home with today. Are they your new set of friends?"

"A, Hai."

"Sou dane. How about the Akutsu kid? The one who use to live next door? I thought you two were friends?"

"A, Akutsu-kun dislikes tennis, so, I can't talk to him about it, but he knows I joined the tennis club in Seigaku."

"Hmn. Iiyo, go back to cutting, smoothly, smoothly, the fish meat has to look delicious even before you make the actual nigiri."

His thinking was disturbed by the crashing sound coming from the stairs. He was quick to walk over to see what the source of the sound was, to his surprise he found his old tennis racket lying at the foot of the staircase with his son standing at the top of the staircase covering his mouth. He picks up the racket and walks up the stairs to his son.

"Gomennasai Otou-san." The young boy bowed to his father, fear evident in his eyes.

"Don't mind." He pats the boy's head, holds his hand and leads him to the bedroom.

"Takashi, what was that sound?" his worried wife asked.

"Makoto dropped this on the stairs." He hands over the old racket to his wife.

"Makoto, where did you get this?" his wife asks his son.

"Eto, I found this box in my room full of tennis things, my room use to be yours right, Otou-san?" His son replies scratching his head.

He stares at his son and smiles, an actual smile, his very first smile in weeks. His son was like a carbon copy of him when he was his age. His actions, his curiosity, his shyness. He starts to wonder, if he puts a racket on his son's hand, will he go into burning mode too? He shakes his head and ruffles his son's hair as if to say, curiosity is all right, but not too much, it can also kill. He kisses his wife and nods to say that she should take their son and go to bed. She understood him perfectly; he didn't need to say a word. She smiles, caresses his face then motions to their son to come and go to sleep. The ex-burning power player holds his wife's shoulder and motions for her to give him the tennis racket. Confused and unsure as to why, his wife hands the racket over to him. He smiles and nods at his wife before heading back down to the sushi shop.

"I don't care if you're a substitute, I'm going to come over and watch you today."

"Hmn. Our goal is to go to the Nationals, after this I can play."

"That's the spirit! Ja, I'll see you later."

He searches the empty sushi shop, for what? He was not sure of. It just felt so empty. He stares at the yellow dusty racket in his hand. How many reunion games has he been invited to? And how many has he declined to attend? He did always offer his sushi shop for after game dinner, he was more than happy to see everyone. Admittedly he misses the Hyotei bunch who use to have regular lunch dates in his sushi shop a few years back when that blue capped guy, what was his name, ah Shishido-san, lost his fiancé in a car accident. They haven't been coming in much lately. But truthfully he missed his team more; he remembers Tezuka's face when he was mistaken for a sensei. He remembers Eiji fighting with Kaidoh over the last piece of anago. He remembers how Momoshiro and Echizen would have these competitions of how much sushi they could stuff in their mouths. He remembers how Oishi forced them to eat wasabi sushi before facing Rikkai in the Kantou finals. He remembers Inui's over analysis of the size of sushi he makes compared to his Otou-san's. He remembers the ich-nen trio and how they would always greet him 'Kawamura-senpai' each time they came into the shop; he remember Tomoka and Sakuno; he remembers Ryuuzaki-sensei advice and patience when he had to take leave from the team to compensate for his Otou-san's broken arm. He remembers it all. But mostly he remembers how they all remembered him, long after he had quit tennis, how they still remember him.

"Takashi, those friends of yours from middle school always come to visit you don't they?"

"Aa."

"You've found really good friends Takashi, keep them close."

"Hmn."

He sits in a corner and searches the room once more. It was definitely empty. Sure there were tables and mats, sure there were wooden chopsticks and soy sauce and seasoning. Sure there was water running in the faucet. And yet there were plenty of knives to go around. But the fish containers were empty; the van parked outside was empty. He felt his cheeks began to warm up with tears as he stared at the wooden counter, in his delusion he began to see two male figures standing behind the counter, one was older and shorter kneading some rice in his hands, skilfully shaping and finally placing the slice of fish on top. The younger watching and trying hard to copy the older's skills and technique. He wiped the tears from his eyes and remembers once more.

"Takashi, just because you run the shop now, doesn't mean you can disregard my opinions."

"Oyaji, that's exactly the point, I run the shop now, I make the decision now."

"If your decision go bad, don't come to me asking for my help."

"I won't!"

It was stupid argument that they had, about changing the sushi rice supplier. Pretty lame, now it makes sense to him. How did he let it get that far? Why did he let it get that far? Wasn't he the dutiful and obedient son? Wasn't he the responsible first born who would carry on the tradition of the great Kawamura Sushi, the best Sushi in Tokyo, no, scrap that, the best Sushi in Japan.

"How long do you plan on not talking to your Otou-san?"

"Youko, please don't get involved in this."

"Takashi, it's been more than a week."

"He's not talking to me either."

"Takashi."

"Youko, not now, please."

"Otou-san is not getting any younger, and so are you. Do you know how lonely it can be when you lost your wife, your daughter lives far from you, and your son doesn't want to talk to you?"

"Youko—."

"You too have a son Takashi, how would you feel if Makoto stopped talking to you because you don't agree with one of his life decisions."

"…"

"It hasn't even been a year since you lost your Okaa-san, Takashi. Do you have to wait until you lose your Otou-san before you realize how stupid this is?"

He should have listened to his wife; he should have just let it slide. Be the better man and talked to him first. Wasn't this man the one who has been supporting him since he was young? Wasn't he the proud father who stood in the crowd with a grin in his face when he received his black belt? Wasn't he the ever diligent father who always found time to watch him play, silly as it may seem, drop by in the middle of a sushi delivery during his match against Ishida in the semi-finals of the Nationals in his senior year? Wasn't he the generous giver who always offered their sushi shop to celebrate each and every victory? He was wasn't he? What made him the ungrateful son who wouldn't even talk to his own father for a silly, simply, stupid reason as rice supplier?

"Where is oyaji?"

"He left this morning, he said he wanted to visit your Okaa-san's grave."

"What time did he leave?"

"About an hour ago."

The flashing red lights of the ambulance blinded his eyes, the white walls of the hospital's emergency room suffocated him, the green curtains didn't calm him at all like they were supposed to. Why were they there? Shouldn't they be in the sushi shop? Mixing? Slicing? Or the market maybe. Picking up fresh seafood. Everyone was so noisy. There was screaming everywhere. So many people crying. Why was he here?

"Gomennasai Kawamura-san, we did all that we could, but he had a massive heart attack. We couldn't revive him."

Why did he go to the cemetery all alone that day? Why did he choose to visit his wife's grave in the middle of winter? Was he so bored at home? Maybe he was wasn't he? After all he hasn't made a single sushi in his hand for a long time. A long, long time.

"Oyaji, your hands are shaking."

"I can still do this Takashi, stop watching and supervising me."

"Ah! Oyaji see, the fish fell. Please Oyaji, go and rest, your tremors have been getting worse lately."

Was he the evil son for caring about him, was he the reason why his Otou-san became sedentary and lifeless. Did he kill his own father?

There was a knock at the door.

"Gomennasai, we are closed." He states as he opens the door for the visitor.

A tall silver haired, beady eyes man with a cigar on his mouth stood outside, looking down at him.

"Akutsu?" he asked surprised at the other's sudden visit.

"I'm sorry for your lost."

"Hai. Come in." he lets the taller man in.

"I heard from Momoshiro."

"Aa. They were all here during the funeral. Even Echizen flew all the way from America to visit me." He nods as he prepared tea for his guest.

"Your Otou-san was a good man."

"Aa."

"So, I also heard from Momoshiro that you haven't been talking with each other the last few days before he died."

He stops preparing the cups and bows his head, even his childhood friend who was known for not caring at all was asking him about his unusual behaviour.

"I was able to talk to your Otou-san that morning."

He raised his head and stares at his friend.

"I saw him on his way to the cemetery and I was surprised to see him alone. You usually visit your Okaa-san's grave together, and seeing him alone that morning gave me an idea that you two were not in good terms."

"I regret ever putting my pride ahead of my love for my Otou-san." He admits as he pours the tea in two cups.

"He was very proud of you, he told me that he has always been proud of you. He loved you. And he could never hate you."

He places the cups on the table and stares at his friend, it was unlike him to be talking the way he was.

"Kawamura, I've known you for almost all my life. You know my family history. I know you did not mean to do what you did to you Otou-san. Don't blame yourself. He did not have any grudge or anger towards you, even to his death. You were lucky to have an Otou-san like him. I never knew my Otou-san—I guess I never will." The taller man sips from his teacup.

He woke up with a pain on his neck, it was not very comfortable sleeping on the counter all night with your neck bent forward on your arms. He looks around the empty sushi shop. He must have fallen asleep down there the night before. He looks at the empty teacups of the table. He wasn't dreaming, his childhood friend did come to visit the night before. He looks over the counter and realizes just how empty the shop truly was. He was not dreaming, his father was truly dead. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs and turns his head to the direction. A pair of yellow-brown orbs stared at him under sleepy lids.

"Ohayou gozaimasu." His son greeted him rubbing his eyes.

"Ohayou Makoto." He smiles at his son.

The young boy runs to his embrace and rests his head on his sturdy chest. He embraces the boy tightly. He closes his eyes and lets the tears flow freely. He promises to be the kind of father that his father was to him, maybe, even better. He swore to support his son in every endeavour that he will ever face. And if that time comes that his son stops talking to him for one reason or another, he going to make sure that he would be the first to talk to him again.

He remembers the burning power player from middle school who once dreamt of becoming the best sushi chef in Japan. Now he realizes, he could never be the best. Because the best sushi chef in Japan had just died, and he could never replace him.

-oOo-

There, a little something different, I don't want you all thinking that I'm enjoying making our dear Seigaku and Hyotei princes lonely old men who lost their girlfriend/fiancés/wives…and besides, I think Taka-san's relationship with his father was just amazing in the series. And sometimes, no matter how hard it is to accept, as children, we do break our parent's hearts every now and then, but they continue to love us no matter what.

On the lighter side, I usually respond to reviews by sending a PM but those guest reviews I can't respond to via PM so I am answering you guys/gals in this chapter's AN

Anonymous: Yep, already did one for Atobe, the chapter before this is about Atobe.

Copper Sulphate: Thank you so much for the review! And yes, a fic where Tezuka always smile would be really nice, the closest I have managed to cook up for Tezuka "nearly always smiling" is my other story When Words Collide…he has a lot of scenes where he "smiles" in that story, so if you want to read a happy, smiling, glowing, in-love Tezuka I suggest you visit that story. =+)

mangareader54: I'm so sorry for making you cry =+(, demo, thank you for appreciating the collection so far.

Oh, and shout out to NewSlove who have been sending in quite a number of reviews, appreciate it much! Hope you like this chapter.