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 smiles, crooked, and watches Yagyuu out of the corner of his eyes as he focuses on the little fox. now that she's crossed the initial gap, he lowers his palm down to the ground completely, and let's her investigate to her heart's content. she's made it this far, after all-- there's no hurry.]

Precisely. But unlike what some people might say, it's not always an earth-shattering thing.

After all, you can't be tamed, otherwise.

[He almost wonders, as he comes to rest on the ground, if he hasn't played into Fuji's hands somehow by doing it, as much as the Vulpix has by letting her curiosity get the better of her. In both cases, it's distance being removed, isn't it?]

Some would say a defeat is always earth-shattering, no matter how small it is.

[Yagyuu's response gives him pause. he tilts his head, even with his eyes riveted on the spot next to the little fox, carefully impersonal.]

That's an interesting definition for defeat.

It's part of being tamed, isn't it? Domesticating something wild involves removing at least some aspect of its autonomy.

[He doesn't nod, doesn't gesture, but his eyes move to the fox, to Fuji's hand, and then carefully away again.]

And around here, the prevalent means of domestication seems to be battling them into submission.

[he's careful to follow that gaze, understanding the implications. in a way, it makes him want to smile, if only because it feels like such a natural thing to do. teasingly, echoing--]

Isn't that quite the mercenary way of regarding it, Yagyuu?

[His shoulders raise slightly in a hint of a shrug; they both know it is, and more likely than not they both already know why he sees it that way.]

Which way would you prefer, Fuji-kun?

Mm, I prefer to think of it in terms of the wheat.

[And now it's his eyebrows' turn to go up.]

The wheat.

[a hum]

You've never read the book?

[The only book that immediately comes to mind involves rye, not wheat, and he's betting the two types of grain aren't comparable enough to match. Loath as he is to admit it, Fuji's one step ahead of him again.]

Evidently not. You seem to be quite ahead of me in that respect today.

Mm, well, that's too bad. I suppose it won't make much sense to make the metaphor about the laughing stars.

[to be entirely honest, he isn't surprised. Yagyuu doesn't seem like the whimsical sort of person who'd pick up a children's book and take stock in it. if he were completely honest with himself, it's a little disappointing.

one of these days, he'll leave a copy where the other boy can find it.]

'The Little Prince'. It's a children's book. An aviator stranded in the desert discovers a little boy hailing from an asteroid-- the little prince-- who goes on to share stories of the things he saw as he traveled from planet to planet.

I haven't read a story to my sister in years.

[Which is, perhaps, his version of an explanation--because of course, why else would he read a children's book, if not because he was reading to a child? Such are the workings of Yagyuu's mind.

Though he's curious, now, why it is that Fuji's thinking of it now. So he'll press, just a little--]

And on one of them, he discovered a field of wheat, I gather?

[he gives pause, here. definitely leaving one out where Yagyuu can find it. perhaps even slip it into his bag-- a far more challenging venture, he thinks, but possibly more gratifying.

he keeps an eye on the little fox as he answers, a bit of a smile to himself as he recalls the book fondly.]

Something like that. He lands on earth, and discovers, under an apple tree, a fox, who asks him to tame it.

[There--and that's all it takes to make the connection, the parallels instantly drawing themselves from the little information he possesses and the current situation they're in. An aviator, a boy telling stories from space, a fox to be tamed. Or perhaps in this case, it's a gentleman, a genius, and a fox whose fate is still in question.]

That's an odd request, from a fox. [And is this why Fuji was so eager to meet his Vulpix, he suddenly wonders?] To want to be tamed.

It did it for the wheat, I think. [a bit of a shrug, here, but for a lack of knowing how to word it. Yagyuu isn't Rise, who has slowly begun to understand intuitively where his metaphors ended and his words began. he considers the best manner of how to convey this, quietly.] There's a field of it, next to the apple tree, but wheat means nothing to a fox, because a fox doesn't eat bread.

How do you suppose a fox found meaning in a field of wheat?

[The wheat again. That's the second time it's come up, and considerably more than the second time that Yagyuu finds himself quietly cursing his disadvantage here. But he's played these games with Fuji before, and he's reasonably sure that it isn't a trap now; this question, for once, isn't Fuji's usual pure whimsy. ...Probably.

So he thinks carefully a minute, adding up what he knows, where he thinks this might be going, what point Fuji might be leading towards...]

Foxes may not eat bread, but I'd imagine a prince would. Is that what it is to be tamed, to learn to see from someone else's point of view?

[and here, he chuckles a little, fairly unsurprised by the answer. it's poetic, but also entirely--] Pragmatic, but I wouldn't be the one to judge its validity. After all, some fox out there must've thought the same thing.

[a pause, as he consider his next words carefully.] But for this fox, it was because of what it embodied. For this fox, wheat held no meaning, but once tamed, the golden fields would remind him of the prince's blond hair, and he'll be able to love the whispering of the wind through the fields.

So even after being tamed, the wheat would still mean nothing in and of itself, but it'd be significant in relation to the prince. What matters is the memory, and the wheat is merely what prompts it.

[The little fox sneaks closer still, settling down contentedly under Fuji's hand. The two humans aren't really paying attention to her anymore, and that's just fine with her; she's content to sit nearby and make herself unnoticed, peering about with wondering eyes.]

He makes being tamed sound like a reward, not a punishment.

It's give-and-take, isn't it? [he gazes down at the fox absently, but makes no move to pet her, nor to move his hand any closer than he already has.] You give up a little part of yourself for something that might not necessarily be more.

But I think what the fox was trying to say, was that what you gain is something precious. Like a fox by your hand, for example.

Put that way, it sounds more like a gamble. You surrender something of yourself on the chance that what you receive will be equally worthwhile, but you could've just as easily never made the trade at all.

[But then, he's surprised to find himself thinking, you'd never look at the color of wheat and see anything but wheat. Are memories like that really so precious, that they're worth what you'd have to trade to get them?]

Who's really being tamed here, Fuji-kun?

[and here he hums, rocking back on his heels.] Who knows? Maybe it doesn't matter.

Maybe the tamer gains from the tamed just as much as it's true for the other way around.

Give and take, indeed.

[He mulls it over again.]

So does the prince agree to the fox's wishes, and tame it?

If you were the lonely prince, and a fox asked you to tame it, would you?

He's a lonely prince, then?

[The honest answer is, he's really not sure. And Fuji's taking this a step farther now, putting him explicitly into the metaphor instead of merely implying it...which means the natural thing to do is stall for time.]

I suppose it would depend on the fox.

That's fair. After all, you're responsible for what you've tamed-- and you wouldn't want to be responsible for the wrong fox.

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