I appreciate it, Kujikawa-san. Having caused a fair amount of it myself.
[And it's surprisingly not tennis he's thinking of as he takes her hand and shakes it with the firmness and respect due any worthy opponent at the end of a match; no, she showed him precisely what he wanted to see, and so he'll permit this much of a concession in the aftermath. If she takes it to mean the match, then so be it--just one more subtle misdirection in play--but Yagyuu's mind is nowhere near this court or this girl or even this city. At the moment he's spinning back to a park bench in Cherrygrove, a chill evening breeze, a partner falling apart against his dampening shoulder.
I hope I didn't keep you waiting, Niou-kun...
Six months to the day. And Kujikawa Rise somehow, inexplicably, in the middle of it. He may not know what she did, the lengths to which the history and attachment run, but he arrived to find his partner covered in a spiderweb of cracks, one tap away from shattering--but intact. He'd had Yukimura, he'd had Akaya, he'd even (surprisingly) had Fuji Syuusuke. And somewhat perplexingly, he'd had Kujikawa Rise. And it had been enough to hold him until Yagyuu could finally catch up.
That alone was enough to draw Yagyuu's attention, but it wasn't enough to win his respect. Not until this match, when he'd been able to see her earn it for herself.
He knows she's looking for answers, whatever ones she can manage to draw out of him, and so he'll give her that one and let her ponder it. That much genuine honesty won't hurt at this point. And if anything, it'll be just enough of a gain to keep her looking for more. Normally he might not be nearly so generous with a tacit invitation to continue prodding at his masks, but at this point it's simple reinforcement. Show me who you are, and perhaps you'll see some of me.
(Assuming she's willing to work for it, of course.)]
no subject
[And it's surprisingly not tennis he's thinking of as he takes her hand and shakes it with the firmness and respect due any worthy opponent at the end of a match; no, she showed him precisely what he wanted to see, and so he'll permit this much of a concession in the aftermath. If she takes it to mean the match, then so be it--just one more subtle misdirection in play--but Yagyuu's mind is nowhere near this court or this girl or even this city. At the moment he's spinning back to a park bench in Cherrygrove, a chill evening breeze, a partner falling apart against his dampening shoulder.
I hope I didn't keep you waiting, Niou-kun...
Six months to the day. And Kujikawa Rise somehow, inexplicably, in the middle of it. He may not know what she did, the lengths to which the history and attachment run, but he arrived to find his partner covered in a spiderweb of cracks, one tap away from shattering--but intact. He'd had Yukimura, he'd had Akaya, he'd even (surprisingly) had Fuji Syuusuke. And somewhat perplexingly, he'd had Kujikawa Rise. And it had been enough to hold him until Yagyuu could finally catch up.
That alone was enough to draw Yagyuu's attention, but it wasn't enough to win his respect. Not until this match, when he'd been able to see her earn it for herself.
He knows she's looking for answers, whatever ones she can manage to draw out of him, and so he'll give her that one and let her ponder it. That much genuine honesty won't hurt at this point. And if anything, it'll be just enough of a gain to keep her looking for more. Normally he might not be nearly so generous with a tacit invitation to continue prodding at his masks, but at this point it's simple reinforcement. Show me who you are, and perhaps you'll see some of me.
(Assuming she's willing to work for it, of course.)]
You played well. It was a good match.