In a way, he knows it's only to be expected from this girl, the one who went out of her way to ask him to keep tabs on Fuji (and called him Syuusuke) for her, the one he watched his partner watching like a hawk all those afternoons spent in the cosplay cafe. Yukimura himself told him to watch her and see what he thought, and he's beginning to see why--because there's something to her, something that runs deeper than the girls he's known from home and school. She watches. She looks. And if the focus of her attentions isn't careful, she sees.
Of course he of all people would catch it. He's played that game for years.
Interesting. Then they're both here to see what the other person is made of, baring their souls (well, as much of their souls as they care to show--which, in Yagyuu's case, is a very different distinction than baring it entirely) to the rhythm of ball against court and strings. And already there are things he can see, hints that nag at him (that tenacity reminds him of someone, who is it?), recognitions that Yukimura was right to take her on, and she'll be a fine player someday if she stays with it. In Yagyuu's world, that's a measure of respect in itself.
After a given amount of time, he ends the rally and takes the first game with relative ease, more because he's ready to see her serve than anything else. The first move was his, and he made it; now it's his turn to wait and see what she sends toward him in exchange.]
no subject
In a way, he knows it's only to be expected from this girl, the one who went out of her way to ask him to keep tabs on Fuji (and called him Syuusuke) for her, the one he watched his partner watching like a hawk all those afternoons spent in the cosplay cafe. Yukimura himself told him to watch her and see what he thought, and he's beginning to see why--because there's something to her, something that runs deeper than the girls he's known from home and school. She watches. She looks. And if the focus of her attentions isn't careful, she sees.
Of course he of all people would catch it. He's played that game for years.
Interesting. Then they're both here to see what the other person is made of, baring their souls (well, as much of their souls as they care to show--which, in Yagyuu's case, is a very different distinction than baring it entirely) to the rhythm of ball against court and strings. And already there are things he can see, hints that nag at him (that tenacity reminds him of someone, who is it?), recognitions that Yukimura was right to take her on, and she'll be a fine player someday if she stays with it. In Yagyuu's world, that's a measure of respect in itself.
After a given amount of time, he ends the rally and takes the first game with relative ease, more because he's ready to see her serve than anything else. The first move was his, and he made it; now it's his turn to wait and see what she sends toward him in exchange.]