Note: Before the Tenipuri anime ended, I started writing a few drabbles in "protest". This is the first.
Title: But
Author: Wai
Word Count: 438
Summary: Fuji doesn't like unfinished sentences.
But...
It was an unfinished sentence, signifying things to come or having more things to say, yet never quite voicing them. They've become rather frequent as of late. He hears it around the court.
Low, whispering voices that have become as common as the softly blowing wind. The temperature is in constant decrease, easing them slowly into the colder season. He suppresses a shiver, not because of the cold. Because of what he hears.
"I was so sure that we'd win the Nationals this year. But..."
"The senpai have been working hard and they've improved so much. We should feel confident, but..."
"I know Echizen said he'd come back but..."
Each unfinished sentence feels colder than the last. It doesn't take them long to notice his presence, however.
He smiles because they expect him to. He pretends not to hear because they expect him not to. It does not mean, however, that he doesn't feel. Because every time he hears that unfinished sentence, there is a prickly feeling in his chest. Every time that name is whispered, his step falters, just slightly, though no one really notices.
They have other obligations. Their attention is shifted elsewhere these days. They can't think about the one who isn't there. They can't think about the young man who appeared suddenly at the beginning of the year and turned the tennis team upside down.
It's better that way.
He is different. He has always been different. The raw, untouched talent that he keeps inside needs to be unleashed. It needs a trigger, a catalyst. It's a chemical reaction that is inevitable, yet it's currently on hold.
He practices like everyone else. The only difference between his teammates and himself is that he doesn't think about the other tennis teams as his opponent. He doesn't think about all those great tennis players from other tennis schools, the ones who can test his strength or occupy his thoughts for a brief moment.
He thinks about the cold prickly rain on his skin, the sound of a tennis ball being hit across a wet tennis court. He thinks about the way his shirt stuck to his skin as he ran across the court. He thinks about the burning fire in his opponent's eyes. And he also thinks about the sweet taste of the rainwater in his mouth and how he wondered whether or not his opponent would taste the same.
He thinks about a tennis game under a wrathful sky. A tennis match in the rain that they never quite finished. Those unfinished sentences reminded him of that and it stings, just a little.
But...
End
Love it? Hate it? Tell me.