no warnings apply, 406 words ahhhh just squeaking this in. i had a lot of trouble, i think i may love these two too much to write about them coherently, lol. this quote is so perfect for them that i had to try.
the day arata moves back to tokyo is bright and mild, springtime sun pouring in through chihaya's bedroom window while she waits for the phone to ring. there's an uncharacteristic knot in her stomach, the kind of nervousness she's used to feeling at matches. they've been apart longer than they were together, six years of distance mapped by telephone wires and ballpoint pens, the year and a half when he went completely dark. it's strange to think that it's over, that she will be able to see him more than every couple of months at karuta tournaments.
the thing about radio waves and misty magpie bridges spanning the stars is that they are intangible. chihaya has always done better with things she can touch; becoming queen is a formless dream but the physicality of a karuta match doesn't lie. arata on the tatami is a force of nature, the perfect tension of a smoothly spinning top, an image chihaya has been reaching for since the first time she saw it. that longing is familiar, welling up to fill all the spaces between her cells, the desire to match him, to meet him there.
it's a little different now. or maybe it's not; it's inevitable that everything about them is tied up with karuta. the room in his heart that arata plays all his matches in is echoed in hers, after all. she remembers clearly the brightness of his eyes cutting through the dimness, the sharp arc of his arm through the air, the love pouring off him stirring something inside her that has never been quiet since. the idea of an arata who longer loved karuta was what had shaken her so badly all those years ago, sobbing her relief out into dingy bullet train upholstery.
he's coming back. the waiting aches in her fingertips, the kaleidoscope flash of her emotions twisting like a windchime. there are things chihaya is slow to understand, but wanting to see arata is simple enough. they can sort the rest of it out together, because this time he's staying.
the phone rings and she jumps, fumbles it open to listen as arata says, "i'm here."
"arata," she says, and then again, repeats his name three times over the low curl of his laughter. "arata," chihaya says, breathless, heart wide open, "let's play karuta."
"yes," he says, from not so very far away, from where he's waiting for her, too, "let's."
FILL: team daiya no ace, G
ahhhh just squeaking this in. i had a lot of trouble, i think i may love these two too much to write about them coherently, lol. this quote is so perfect for them that i had to try.
the day arata moves back to tokyo is bright and mild, springtime sun pouring in through chihaya's bedroom window while she waits for the phone to ring. there's an uncharacteristic knot in her stomach, the kind of nervousness she's used to feeling at matches. they've been apart longer than they were together, six years of distance mapped by telephone wires and ballpoint pens, the year and a half when he went completely dark. it's strange to think that it's over, that she will be able to see him more than every couple of months at karuta tournaments.
the thing about radio waves and misty magpie bridges spanning the stars is that they are intangible. chihaya has always done better with things she can touch; becoming queen is a formless dream but the physicality of a karuta match doesn't lie. arata on the tatami is a force of nature, the perfect tension of a smoothly spinning top, an image chihaya has been reaching for since the first time she saw it. that longing is familiar, welling up to fill all the spaces between her cells, the desire to match him, to meet him there.
it's a little different now. or maybe it's not; it's inevitable that everything about them is tied up with karuta. the room in his heart that arata plays all his matches in is echoed in hers, after all. she remembers clearly the brightness of his eyes cutting through the dimness, the sharp arc of his arm through the air, the love pouring off him stirring something inside her that has never been quiet since. the idea of an arata who longer loved karuta was what had shaken her so badly all those years ago, sobbing her relief out into dingy bullet train upholstery.
he's coming back. the waiting aches in her fingertips, the kaleidoscope flash of her emotions twisting like a windchime. there are things chihaya is slow to understand, but wanting to see arata is simple enough. they can sort the rest of it out together, because this time he's staying.
the phone rings and she jumps, fumbles it open to listen as arata says, "i'm here."
"arata," she says, and then again, repeats his name three times over the low curl of his laughter. "arata," chihaya says, breathless, heart wide open, "let's play karuta."
"yes," he says, from not so very far away, from where he's waiting for her, too, "let's."