[ answer... answer? Of course she's watching him, so she can mark the precise moment when his expression alters - or reverts to the way it was before, as though she's failed in something - and maybe what she said was the wrong thing, but... again, it's a question ringing in her mind as the ball flies his way. Answer... wrong...?
This is a match for her to try and understand him, on her end, but it also feels as though he's judging her. It's a sure sign she's slipped up somewhere - honored that he'd verified that this was a match, should she have said? - and before the indecision and uncertainty swamps her, a memory sparks to life.
And she remembers the agency, a bored voice telling her exactly how to act, asking her questions but truly dismissive of her answers and instructing her instead to give the ones they provided her. She remembers fighting down dismay and anger, because she'd been shy, willing to change, and she'd needed to go along with it.
She remembers the one they'd faced, the comment he'd made about talent, that stupid teacher, her-- the way they'd made her feel, even temporarily, as though she was meant to be overlooked. And her audience...
What had Fuji said about underestimating...? And what did Yagyuu want from her? How did he want her to act, to look, to dance--
His comment's still ringing in her ears, her eyes darkening, but she takes a single second to look at him, just in time to see him hit her serve. And maybe she doesn't have her Persona to read the exact message and relay it, nor the time to commit to fully understanding it, but in that second, in a single breath, there's a flash of awareness. An oh.
He'd done that to draw out her anger-- to see how she'd respond to a ball she couldn't hit, to purposely make her feel helpless? And she'd hidden that anger, too accustomed to doing so behind a smile.
Well, fine. He could be disappointed. He could be wanting her to act a certain way (she doubts that, he doesn't know her well enough to predict how she'd act), or to simply see if she held the answer he wanted (so you're ducking back behind that smile if I don't fight back?) and how she's thinking through this in the span of a few seconds is crazy, but she moves automatically.
And hits harder.
It's almost a relief. To just let it out, to not curb it for the sake of anyone and everyone, and if he's going to judge her, then she's past the point of worrying about what the hell he thinks, if she's messed up, because it's relieving and terrifying and part of her wants to suppress it again, while the rest of her is clamoring to retaliate. She's done caring about being sore the next day if she hits too hard, she's done being manipulated (but she still is, she feels, and that only makes her all the more determined to break free of it), and all she really wants to do is wipe that smile off his face. And the only way she can do that isn't with dancing or singing or punching or yelling-- it's using this racket, hitting the ball back at him, pouring her anger into it and guiding it with almost instinctive observation, dashing and spinning to get everything he sends at her as her heart pounds louder and louder in her ears.
You want to see this side of me? You want to see the side no one else does?
What could you possibly know about me? She'd said that to Naoto, vehemently, and she thinks it now, except now she is showing what she's so used to squashing down, and she's pushing back against that pressure. Her eyes are glittering, her breaths come sharply, and she's fighting.
She wants to beat him, and it'll hurt that much more when she doesn't, but right now, she's not even thinking about that. ]
no subject
This is a match for her to try and understand him, on her end, but it also feels as though he's judging her. It's a sure sign she's slipped up somewhere - honored that he'd verified that this was a match, should she have said? - and before the indecision and uncertainty swamps her, a memory sparks to life.
And she remembers the agency, a bored voice telling her exactly how to act, asking her questions but truly dismissive of her answers and instructing her instead to give the ones they provided her. She remembers fighting down dismay and anger, because she'd been shy, willing to change, and she'd needed to go along with it.
She remembers the one they'd faced, the comment he'd made about talent, that stupid teacher, her-- the way they'd made her feel, even temporarily, as though she was meant to be overlooked. And her audience...
What had Fuji said about underestimating...? And what did Yagyuu want from her? How did he want her to act, to look, to dance--
His comment's still ringing in her ears, her eyes darkening, but she takes a single second to look at him, just in time to see him hit her serve. And maybe she doesn't have her Persona to read the exact message and relay it, nor the time to commit to fully understanding it, but in that second, in a single breath, there's a flash of awareness. An oh.
He'd done that to draw out her anger-- to see how she'd respond to a ball she couldn't hit, to purposely make her feel helpless? And she'd hidden that anger, too accustomed to doing so behind a smile.
Well, fine. He could be disappointed. He could be wanting her to act a certain way (she doubts that, he doesn't know her well enough to predict how she'd act), or to simply see if she held the answer he wanted (so you're ducking back behind that smile if I don't fight back?) and how she's thinking through this in the span of a few seconds is crazy, but she moves automatically.
And hits harder.
It's almost a relief. To just let it out, to not curb it for the sake of anyone and everyone, and if he's going to judge her, then she's past the point of worrying about what the hell he thinks, if she's messed up, because it's relieving and terrifying and part of her wants to suppress it again, while the rest of her is clamoring to retaliate. She's done caring about being sore the next day if she hits too hard, she's done being manipulated (but she still is, she feels, and that only makes her all the more determined to break free of it), and all she really wants to do is wipe that smile off his face. And the only way she can do that isn't with dancing or singing or punching or yelling-- it's using this racket, hitting the ball back at him, pouring her anger into it and guiding it with almost instinctive observation, dashing and spinning to get everything he sends at her as her heart pounds louder and louder in her ears.
You want to see this side of me? You want to see the side no one else does?
What could you possibly know about me? She'd said that to Naoto, vehemently, and she thinks it now, except now she is showing what she's so used to squashing down, and she's pushing back against that pressure. Her eyes are glittering, her breaths come sharply, and she's fighting.
She wants to beat him, and it'll hurt that much more when she doesn't, but right now, she's not even thinking about that. ]