Chapter Six

Sachie

Seeing Fuji wasn't unusual. I seemed to bump into him more than ever since my near confession. But the rope entangled in the wheels of his wheelchair definitely qualified as weird. Where do you find that sort of thing in a school, anyway?

It wasn't until I saw a few teenage boys sniggering nearby that I realized what was going on. Well, Fuji had reduced their chances of getting a girlfriend drastically before, so I couldn't deny that they had the motive to want to get back at him. But was that supposed to make me less mad?

Giving the already unfortunate a harder time was labeled by many as inhumane, but ironically, the thirst for revenge is one of the things that make us human.

"Fuji, hi." I went up to him. "Need help?"

"Hi, Tezumi. It's ok, I can probably get this off myself."

I examined the long black string that had somehow gotten everywhere, in the spokes, the mechanism that made the wheels move, and everything else. I doubted that Fuji could even see how badly he was stuck, let alone fix it. He had twisted his upper body as best as he could to face the mess, and was tugging fruitlessly at it. I sighed. Tennis would have to wait.

Kneeling down beside him, I pulled out a pair of scissors and hacked at the string. I found that it was very tough.

"It's ok," Fuji said again. "I'm sure Eiji or someone will come along to help. You don't have to do this if you're in a hurry." He attempted to wave my hand away.

"Yeah, Eiji will come. In about another hour or so," I said, rolling my eyes.

"No, it's fine, really. I can manage--"

"Oh, just be quiet," I snapped, slapping his hand out of the way. Don't ask me why I snapped, because I don't know. Seeing as scissors wouldn't do the trick, I took out my cutter and used that instead.

"Ok, I think I've got it all of by now." Standing up after more than fifteen minutes of kneeling, I stretched my aching legs. "Bye, I'll see you around." Why was I walking away from the chance to talk to someone I still cared about, despite not knowing a thing about him? As I said, don't even ask, because I can't answer.

The strange thing was, he caught up with me as I strode away. It couldn't have been easy, considering his position.

"Thank you for helping me."

"You needed help and I gave it. What's the big deal?" I mumbled grumpily.

He smiled, like he always had. "I'm going this way too. Let's uh, walk together." He stumbled over his words. It was understandable.

And so we walked. In silence. What wouldn't I have given for this, just a few weeks ago? But not I was basically ignoring his presence, like I was mad at him or something. In a strange, unexplainable way, I was.

"How is your tennis coming along?" he asked me, trying to be friendly.

"I got a lot better, once you told me what I was doing wrong. I'm working on my serve now. I want it to be faster. Slow progress, but..." I shrugged.

"Tennis is a very interesting sport," he stated out of the blue. His voice hollowed, and there was a distant look on his face. This guy either didn't care about tennis much, or was just really good at coping.

"Yes," I answered simply. "It is. I'm just sorry I started so late." His wheels made a faint ticking noise as we went along.

"It looks even more interesting now, that I can take the time to watch other people play," he remarked.

Slowly, I began to notice that something was very wrong. His tone was light, his expression never changed, but his words just didn't seem right. He loved tennis, anyone could tell. Then why was he acting as though it didn't matter?

"Did the doctor say when you'll get better?" I asked hesitantly.

"No." Finally, his voice betrayed some emotion. "He doesn't know if I ever will." He tried to hide his sadness, but it was like trying to cover fire with paper. Still he smiled. And that was what gave him away.

"It isn't healthy for you to keep your feelings bottled up like that," I told him straight out. "What happened to you is enough to make anyone feel bad."

"What are you talking about?" Yet he still tried to hide. "It's ok, really. Now Yuuta can play without people dragging my name into it—"

"Shut up!" I growled at him. "How long are you going to do this? Pretend that you don't care, and hide behind that smile of yours?"

"I'm just trying not to be pessimistic." He was being slightly more open at last. "It's just that I don't want people to know because they'll just worry. Besides, I'm trying to deal with it."

"Coward." I snarled it quietly, so that only he could hear.

"Wha—what?" I could have bet my life that no one had ever called him that before. Anger, mixed with a little disdain, coursed through me.

Once again I contemplated his ever-present smile. Now that I saw him plainly without my prior feelings for him blinding me, I could see that the smile had changed. It was no longer the easy, relaxed smile that I had adored. His was now the broken smile of someone grinning out of incredulity that he hadn't committed suicide yet. And I hated it.

"You weak, pathetic coward. You're hurting so badly inside but you won't let yourself cry. You're so messed up but you won't let anyone help. And you're trying to hide behind your feeble, broken smile."

I ran. Did I really used to have a crush on this guy?