route_1065 | log ; the rose I kept in a glass cage

Entry tags:

fuji shuusuke | prince of tennis

log ; the rose I kept in a glass cage

Who:

usedlaserbeam
Where: Goldenrod, in a park by the pokemon center
When: 07/30, directly after the text messages
Summary: a discussion about foxes, and the eyes that see them
Rating: PG-13
Log:

[it really is a nice day for the park, isn't it.

he knows that he's there early, for a given value of early, when he doesn't see Yagyuu there-- though really, it couldn't be called early. not since neither he nor the other set on a time. 'now' is so very subjective in the strangest of ways-- what constitutes as 'now' for a world where the land never stops spinning? surely it must've been the moment before that one, just slightly off-kilter...

he finds a nice park bench, and settles down on it, leaning back.

the sun really is so high.]

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[It takes Yagyuu a short while to get to the park, simply out of pure logistics; he's been keeping it under wraps that his roster is full enough to necessitate the use of his PC storage facilities, and while there aren't many people who would pay close enough attention to his lineup to notice that discrepancy even if he didn't work to hide it, there are still a few out there and Fuji Shuusuke is undoubtedly one of them.

A brief walk to the Pokemon Center lets him switch out his newly-acquired Ditto (who is really only guaranteed secure when he's in the box, anyway) for the baby Vulpix given to him a week ago, and then it's off to the park to see if, hypothetically, anyone interesting will cross his path today.

Like that stranger on the park bench, for example. He seems intriguing enough.]

[doesn't he? he happens to be swinging his legs under the bench childishly, blinking about in absent concentration. then, he spots Yagyuu heading down the path.

he doesn't see a pokemon in sight, though he figures that Yagyuu is the sort of person who keeps his little monsters safe and confined within their little balls. safe, presumably from the outside world, though he's of the private opinion that it most likely works both ways. it's a style that suits Yagyuu, who he's been comparing to Niou with increasing frequency nowadays. his secrets, like his pokemon, are out of sight, but they're there, hidden beneath the surface.

it's interesting.

he raises a mild hand up in greeting.]

And is this where I make the obligatory comment about the winds of fate and its unchanging ways?

[In this case, Fuji's intuition is right about Yagyuu's tendency toward managing his monsters (the one exception being Lady, who is the favorite and therefore entitled to special privileges), but there's an added complication that factors in--that the monster he's bringing with him today happens to be painfully shy, so much so that attempting to walk her over would be an exercise in futility. And if he's going to carry her either way, it might as well be in the protection of her ball; it's simply the most comfortable solution for everyone concerned.

As he approaches, he answers Fuji's greeting with a nod of his own, coming to a pause at a comfortable, friendly (safe) distance from the bench.]

You're welcome to, if you'd prefer we continue pretending this meeting is a coincidence. Hello, Fuji-kun.

[he notes the distance and appreciates it. it gives him time to gauge the stretch of silence between the distance and ponder as to how to best approach it. as with all their conversations, it's the unsaid that holds the most meaning.

for this sort of distance, he has a ready reply. he smiles.]

Wouldn't it be fun if we could? It's a good excuse for a poetry recital.

It'd certainly be a performance, all right.

[And aren't most things, with the two of them? Fuji deflecting and Yagyuu accommodating and both of them keeping up the appearance of serenity on the surface while constantly trying to outmaneuver each other beneath it? Nothing is simple or straightforward with Fuji Shuusuke, and nothing is ever as it appears.]

Though I think you'd enjoy it more than I would.

[he's fairly certain he would, really. but as with everything, it's an experiment. therefore, he hums, drumming his fingers on the bench as he leafs through the archive that passes as his memory.

he draws the poem out like a thread.]

'One ship drives east and another drives west
With the selfsame winds that blow.' ..?

[there's a question there, hanging.]

[Then it's that sort of challenge--but unfortunately, unlike some of the other discussions they've had, this is one where Yagyuu finds himself at a momentary loss. Poetry isn't his strong suit the way that novels are, and while he has the feeling of knowing the poem, the way one might recall having read something without being able to recite it, he can't grasp the words to finish it.

So he only nods slightly, conceding the advantage of the moment, and waits to see if Fuji will go on to finish the rest for him.]

[he reads the graceful withdrawal, if but momentary, and nods as well. swings his legs under the bench, because it feels like a natural thing to do, and dutifully recites the next few lines.]

'This the set of the sails
And not the gales
Which tell us the way to go.

Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through life...'

[a pause, here, sing-song in its silence.]

[And this time, the look he gets is a little more expectant, a touch more impatient. Relinquishing advantage (he refuses to call it admitting defeat, even about something as simple as this) isn't something he's fond of at any time, and Fuji knows he's got the upper hand for the moment. Drawing it out like this...

...means he's looking for a reaction, as usual. So it is a performance, after all.]

[in the ensuing silence, he gets his answer. he's known for quite some time now that Yagyuu Hiroshi might just be every little bit as covertly competitive as he is, but there is no confirmation quite like this one. he goes on, reciting the rest--]

'Tis the set of a soul
That decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.'

[a pause. then, he chuckles, a little.] I'm not surprised you're not familiar with it-- it's only famous because of its lack of literary value.

Not enough to memorize it, at least. Though if it's true its fame comes from its lack of merit, then I suppose it's only to be expected.

[And trust Fuji to know a poem like that by heart, one that apparently served no purpose and held no meaningful value. It's exactly the sort of thing he'd do.]

Is that why you like it?

[and here, he shrugs, because he's certain that the answer is fairly straightforward.]

Ella Wheeler Wilcox writes poems that anyone can read. When it becomes generic enough, I'm fairly certain that they're just words.

[and then, he leans forward, hands on his knees, fluid.] And where's our little guest of honour, today?

It may be that she's waiting for a poem with merit. Perhaps you ought to try the Reynard cycle, instead.

[He remarks, as he reaches for the red and white ball in his pocket and thumbs the button, restoring it to full size before gently tossing it to the ground. No flourishes or hand motions this time, just a simple catch and release--and a moment later a rather small Vulpix erupts from it in a flash of light, squeaking and disoriented at her sudden emergence from her ball.]

The Reynard cycle, huh. [he wrinkles his nose at Yagyuu's remark, even as the little fox emerges. however, upon seeing the small creature, his expression softens into something like delight.

a fox.]

I hope that isn't where her name is coming from.

[And a timid fox at that. She has a bad habit of hunkering down to make herself look smaller than she is, curling her tails around her as she takes in her surroundings.]

She doesn't have one yet. I've been putting off naming her until I can find a trainer to take her in; I assume they'll want that honor, themselves.

[it's endearing. like all predators when they're met with something small and shrinking violet-like in disposition, he watches with an amused glance.]

Oh, you mentioned that. Not in so many words, but-- [a shrug, here] shy, isn't she.

[where on earth did Kirihara find her, being the unspoken question]

It's strange. I wasn't expecting her to be so timid; most of the other Pokemon I've encountered have been far more personable.

[And if he's listening, Fuji will detect a hint of Yagyuu's displeasure at that observation--not directed toward the Vulpix, but at his lack of an answer for why. Yagyuu has never been fond of problems he can't fix, and this shyness...it's not a problem, exactly, but it's puzzling. And bothersome.]

With time and patience, I suppose, she'll learn to grow used to people.

They used to say that with time and patience, even stupidity can be cured. But we all know how that goes.

[and Fuji is most certainly listening, and Yagyuu's displeasure, in turn, makes him think. in response, he gives the fox a look of consideration, before moving slow, slow, slowly off the bench and into a crouch on the ground.]

Nothing fixes itself, you know.

[It's slow enough that it doesn't startle the little fox, though she does squeak again as Fuji's new presence on the ground draws her more immediate attention. Yagyuu, for his part, shifts back slightly, watching curiously to see this very odd exchange between two such very odd creatures.]

That's a fair point. Perhaps I should've added the third necessity: time, patience, and effort.

[Fuji, for his part, is more than happy not to make any overt gestures. rather, he seems more than happy not to do anything at all. simply crouches there. conversationally--]

No. Patience, effort and time. There's a difference.

[Which prompts a slight frown out of Yagyuu. Nothing shifted but the order--is he implying an order of importance? Sequential order? Or is it merely another game of Fuji's, and there's really no difference at all?]

Ah. Is that the order to follow?

[he can tell that Yagyuu's making an effort at following-- most people do, especially in the wake of something that sounds vaguely philosophical in nature. that in which lies the flaw, he supposes. sometimes, there's really nothing to follow.]

Not really. It just makes for a better acronym.

[he then flashes a quick, lop-sided grin. his gesture of peace, the facial expression equivalent of the open palm.] If we were to go strictly by the order, it must be something like effort, patience and time-- time being the last resort, in some cases.

[Just another game of Fuji's, after all. And he almost can't help but wonder if Fuji ever finds it tedious after a while, always adopting that role, the way that Yagyuu sometimes reaches the limits of his patience with being a perfect gentleman. He's found his own means of cutting loose when it gets to be too much. Has Fuji?

Or is this just how Fuji is, through and through?]

As a mnemonic for remembering the steps, the acronym would be useful. Though I think the order itself is the most helpful overall.

[Effort, patience, and time. And why does that sound as much like a recipe for dealing with Fuji as it does for training a fox?]

I'm surprised she's not afraid of you.

[the thing about Fuji is that he's not entirely sure how to be anything else, and the only repercussions he has from his own actions are physical in nature-- sleepless nights, poor appetite and a tendency to monopolize the bathroom at odd hours. as of now, he is simply acting the way he knows best, humming under his breath as he crouches there by the bench before the fox, careful to angle his body forty-five degrees away from being head-on and doing a fantastic impression of not paying attention.

he shrugs.]

I'd say both are second to intuition. [and he chuckles, a little, here, murmuring--] And I think I should be the one afraid, really. The most I can do is scare a few years off of her. She, on the other hand, can set me on fire.

It's her nature, at least, though it doesn't seem to be her inclination.

[It's one of Yagyuu's talents as well, to watch something while concealing the direction of his attention, and he's glad for it now--because the fox is somehow, miraculously, beginning to grow curious, and inching forward a step as if to investigate this new, strange creature in her midst.]

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