They had shared ice cream in the second week of school. Her eyes were so big and round when she ate, and she didn't even notice his trembling hands when he started to eat from the same bucket. She sat next to him, and he had wanted to be with her ever since he first laid eyes on her.
Everyday he would eagerly bid his father and the sushi shop goodbye, and run off to school, his brown curly hair combed neatly. But his shy manner never got him very far with her. In fact, besides the ice cream sharing, he had no other contact with her. He was shy and reserved, she was the class belle, and popular amongst the other boys. There was no common interests between the two, but he still hoped in some way that he could catch the attention of those blue eyes, framed beautifully with her light brown hair.
And before he could do anything to gain her attention, her family had to move away. He had been heartbroken for weeks, crying in his room without his parents' knowledge. It was truly, his first love.
Takashi sighed. Why think of such old memories now? He wondered, looking out of his bedroom window. He was still recovering from his injured wrist from the Hyoutei matches, so his dad had forbidden him to do his usual exercise routines. But that left him with too much time, and nothing to do, but ponder.
He knew exactly why he had remembered her. "Why deny it, Takashi?" he chided himself aloud, speaking into the night air. Outside, a breeze blew past, and his brown hair moved with the wind as he stuck his head outside for a moment. But the cool night air did not have the effect he desired. He pulled back, slumping onto a nearby chair, his mind still as troubled as before. His eyes strayed involuntarily to the tennis racquet bag beside his bed.
Takashi glanced away, knowing exactly what was inside, and not needing to bring it out again that evening. His tennis racquet still had blood stains from the fight three days ago, but it was not the stains that made him think about the racquet.
"He used it to defeat Jiroh," he breathed quietly, talking to nobody in particular. "He used it because... because he wanted to fight for me?" Staring at the ceiling for a moment, as the words he spoke aloud sunk in, he seemed to wake up from a trance, and shook his head furiously, though nobody had heard him, and there was nobody he had to deny to. The fan in his room continued to blow almost silently, as he slumped down on his bed, his arms crossed underneath his head as he stretched out on his bed stomach out.
He knew why he had remembered her. Because she reminded him so much of Fuji. Both beautiful, both talented, both... unreachable. He had been shy, and didn't act fast enough to be able to be with her back then, and he knew if he wanted to succeed in a relationship, he had to be more aggressive, like he would be whenever he held a racquet. He knew all that.
"But what use would that be now?" he spoke aloud to the ceiling, his face sad. Fuji was his good friend, a good doubles partner, a tennis prodigy, and a guy. Sometimes Takashi would feel guilty for his feelings towards a member of the same sex; he knew his parents would be shocked if they ever found out their son had affections for another guy. But even plain old mad Taka-san knew that there was nothing he could do about it. He was not about to turn into a homosexual, it was just that, when one loved somebody, it suddenly didn't make that much of a difference whether that person is a girl or a guy. And Takashi knew that he could not hide his feelings and hope they go away. He had tried to do that for the past two years. But they remained, and grew every time he saw Fuji, every time he thought about Fuji.
He turned on his side on the bed, his mouth forming a bitter scoff, at himself. Even if he did accept that he could love another guy, Fuji would never be his. His eyes closed, his mouth relaxing. He was tired. He was tired of pretending he didn't care, whenever he saw Tezuka and Fuji walk together on the courts, or support each other in their silent way during matches. He wanted to be the one that Fuji would willingly engage in conversation whenever he went to the courts. He wanted to be the one that Fuji cared about, not just a mad player who seemed to compliment Fuji's tennis during doubles. He wanted to be there when Fuji feels down, he wanted to be there to comfort Fuji, he wanted to be there, even if it was just to lend a shoulder to lean on. But who was he, compared to Tezuka, who he respected and worshipped? Fuji and Tezuka were the perfect pair, almost as golden as the Golden Pair themselves. He was just a back-up player, a minor character compared to the buchou.
He glanced at the clock, and realised it was getting late. Climbing up from his bed, he walked to switch off the lights. The lamps on the streets shone through his open window, illuminating his simple room enough so that he could find his way back to bed. But he couldn't sleep. Not with the thoughts in his head tumbling and twisting around. In his mind, memories of Fuji floated up into his consciousness. Fuji smiling pleasantly at him the very first time they met, his light brown hair the exact same shade as hers. Fuji playing tennis with him, purposely using simple lobes so that Takashi could catch up. Fuji when he was serious, his beautiful blue eyes intense and bottomless. Fuji when they were first paired up as doubles, smiling that same smile, and asking after him as they played, ever so caring. Fuji when he first asked whether he could call Takashi Taka-san. And lastly, most recently, the concerned and angry look Fuji had when he asked Takashi whether he could use his racquet to play against Jiroh.
He lifted his hand above him, looking at his wrist, still a little red and swollen from the Kabaji fight. In a few days the doctor would have cleared him for any exercise, and then he would be able to continue with his nightly routine, and stop thinking. That training camp was also coming up, and soon he would be able to re-immerse himself in the hectic life he was so used to, of tennis training, schoolwork, and helping out at the shop. And then? And then what? He would graduate from Seigaku, and pursue his dream of being a sushi chef, find a wife, raise a family, and never think of tennis or Fuji for the rest of his life. This was what he had to do. This was what he was going to do. There had never been any doubt about that, not even when he started to have sleepless nights thinking about Fuji, not even when he started to enjoy tennis more than he had ever enjoyed anything before, not even when he found another part of himself when he played.
Takashi sighed, and flung the blanket over himself. In less than a year, he would lose the two things most important to him now. As he closed his eyes he tried to shut out all these sad thoughts from his mind. He needed to get his rest. Tomorrow was going to be a hectic day.
Tomorrow was going to be another day. And perhaps, just perhaps, it wouldn't be too selfish of him to indulge in those two things a little longer. Just a little longer, before he had to let them go.
And so, Kawamura Takashi fell asleep, his head weary, but his heart lit with just a little bit of hope...
chiiyo's comments :
I didn't provide a glossary with this piece because the terms I've used should be well-known to most Prince of Tennis fans. This was very first piece of fanfiction involving Takashi. He is the only character in Prince of Tennis I'd ever write, because I love his dear dear soul. As you might have guessed, he is my favourite character. I practically blubbered through the entire Kabaji fight. I support TakaFu! I like writing about Takashi, because I believe he is so much deeper than the anime or the manga make him out to it. And he is very pliable and easy to write about, his personality perfect for me.