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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[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.]

Just pointing out that who, in this situation, has the upper hand.

[if he notices her movements, he doesn't show it-- but then again, he's most certainly noticed her movements, and therefore must be taking certain care not to show it. however, he does lower his right hand a notch gently, imperceptibly.]

Actually, that would be you, wouldn't it. Keeper of the magic eight ball; deus ex machina extraordinaire.

[Leave it to Fuji, of all people, to find a way to bring a skittish animal out of its shell. It's an interesting sight, watching the subtle tension balancing on a thread. Will he manage it? Or will one slight misstep undo the whole thing? It's a tableau that's more than managed to ensnare Yagyuu's attention.]

But would that really solve the problem, I wonder? It's not much of a deus ex machina if it doesn't.

At the very least, it would solve the prospect of someone getting caught on fire.

[it's a calculated risk, but it's still there-- the risk, that is, of the small creature taking the slow movements as a gesture of threat. it would undo the good that had been wrought. he is well aware of this, even as his hand slowly descends to touch the ground lightly with his fingertips. it's the reason why he hums, peering up at Yagyuu with a contemplative look, pleasant.]

Unless, of course, you don't consider that to be a problem.

[And that, of all things, earns Fuji the first smile Yagyuu's cracked since the encounter began--and a surprisingly natural one at that. Of course, it's partly from the intended humor and partly because, well, there have been days when he frankly wouldn't have considered Fuji set on fire to be much of a problem, no.]

In that case, I promise to utilize it should that eventuality arise.

[the response is nostalgic. dry humour, pleasant. there are people out there who will claim that Tezuka Kunimitsu isn't capable of irony. Fuji supposes that he knows better. it makes him wonder, just a little, since when did he start finding similarities between Yagyuu Hiroshi and his captain.

a huff, mock-sigh.]

Figures. I suppose I'll just have to muster up the motivation to save myself, if it comes to that.

With a capacity for innovation like yours, Fuji-kun, I wouldn't doubt your ability to escape a roasting for a minute.

[And the Vulpix sneaks closer again, almost close enough to brush her nose against Fuji's hand.]

Though I still doubt you're in any danger from this one.

[ah, delight-- it's in the way his eyes flash discreetly at the closeness of the gesture. but still, he does not move. there's a hum as he tilts his head up at Yagyuu, contemplative.] Mm, I'm afraid of getting burnt.

What's your excuse?

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