Current mood:	accomplished
Current music:	Kaeri Michi--Every Little Thing
Entry tags:	30_kisses, card captor sakura, fujitaka/nadeshiko

Fic: Football Game
Title: Football Game
Authors: fairymage
Rating: G
Community: 30_kisses
Theme: #12-In a Good Mood, #16-Invincible; unrivaled
Fandom: Card Captor Sakura
Pairing: Fujitaka/Nadeshiko
Notes: FINALLY! Spring Break has arrived, and I have time and energy for fanfiction.

A Late Morning



He sat up, yawning and stretching. Glancing over at the bedside alarm clock, he was thrilled to discover that he was awake before the alarm even went off. Smiling, he switched off the alarm and began to get ready for school.

The late morning had been nagging at him ever since—though whether it was because he’d been late or because of the chance encounter in the hallway he wasn’t about to find out. So now he set his alarm even earlier and was out of the house precisely an hour before school started, so that he had plenty of time once he was there to organize his thoughts and papers.

Today was a test day: everything was neatly stapled, stacked, and photocopied. He’d even put them away the night before in a folder in his bag. Everything was turning out… well, wonderfully. The sky was blue, he noted as he glanced outside, and there were just the right number of clouds dotting it. A perfect looking day. He almost felt bad for giving a test on such a beautiful day.

After breakfast was finished early and yet still at a leisurely pace, he gathered his coat, bag, and closed the door behind him. Checking his watch (just to make sure), he began to pedal slowly down the street. At this rate, he’d make it to school plenty early.

~~~~~

As normal as the day was—class periods, lunch break, more class periods, passing out the same test over and over and over—there was a sparkle and shine to it that made even the blandness of the activities enjoyable. He really did regret having to give the test that day… but he didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t afford to have his lesson plans thrown off that much.

He took lunch by himself, outside, at a quiet table under a tree from which he could see the students gathered in groups across the grass. It was a nice day, and even if he had to spend his lunch hour alone… well, it more than made up for it to be able to see the sunshine and feel the fresh air.

Despite all of his good intentions, and his assertions to himself that he would stop getting distracted, he found his eyes wandering mercilessly. He wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, he told himself, he wasn’t that naïve. He was just curious, that’s all. Curious as to what students did on such a beautiful day. It’d been a few years since he himself had been allowed to bask in youth and sunshine simultaneously.

A football game was getting started, mostly boys but a few of the more daring (and probably coordinated) girls joining in. Their laughter and yells drifted over to him, and he smiled as he watched. The day was turning out so well that merely the happiness of others—their laughter and smiles and joyful cries—was enough to make him feel warm inside.

There was one girl—a particularly uncoordinated girl—that he suspected wasn’t going to be joining in the game. With hardly a second thought he skimmed the crowd for her, her dark curls dancing with every movement as she cheered on her friends. It was her cousin he saw first, long legs extended as she ran the length of the field, skillfully besting even the boys at the sport. She, on the other hand, was standing on the sidelines, smiling making the day even brighter as she seemed to dance in place.

Of course he hadn’t been looking for her, he reminded himself. It was just chance that he’d found her on the sideline. She stood out so clearly from her peers; she was standing at the front, not yelling but cheering nonetheless, her eyes kissed with sunbeams and laughter. There was no way, if he was watching the game, he could not notice her. Or so he told himself.

There was a moment, the briefest of seconds as the crowd of players parted just right so that he could see her clearly. He’d been smiling all day simply because everyone else had been so happy, and it had made him in turn happy. But now there was a new brightness to add to the day, and he felt his own smile warm at the sight of hers.

“Are you any good?” Fujitaka turned to see another teacher, Yoshizawa-sensei, sitting beside him grinning.

With a little laugh he replied, “Not particularly. I haven’t played in… years, actually.”

“You look like you’d be rather skilled. In any case, would you like to play? Usually once the students start playing the teachers join in. We’ll be playing the first game of the year today after school, and we’re running a bit short of players.”

“Ah… well, I don’t have anything to do after school. As long as you don’t mind a newcomer like me—“

“Thanks, Fujitaka-san,” Yoshizawa-sensei interrupted, clapping him on the back. “The teachers never lose the opening game, you know. Newcomer or not, if you can run the field and keep the students from scoring no one will care.” He winked and walked away. “See you after school, then, at the field.”

Lunch was almost over, and as Fujitaka glanced back at the field he saw that the students had begun to clean up, the players dissipating to the edges of the field. She was greeting her cousin, holding out a presumably wet towel and smiling as usual. As he stood and collected his lunch things, he looked up one last time and saw that she was grinning at him, the last one left at the field. Her smile was gentle, knowing, encouraging.

So she’d seen everything, after all.

Then her cousin came back yelling, grabbing her arm and dragging her off to class.

~~~~~

“What are you talking about, Fujitaka?” Jiro gasped as there was a pause in the game. “You told Kenji you weren’t any good.”

Fujitaka smiled, embarrassed. “I’m not. I haven’t played since... goodness, probably when I was in high school.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jiro muttered. Fujitaka couldn’t blame him; Jiro looked completely winded, whereas he was still completely fresh.

“Part of it is age, you know,” Yoshizawa-sensei noted with a smirk. Both he and Fujitaka were still young, in their early twenties, while Jiro was in his thirties. “Besides, Fujitaka-san looks more athletic than most of us.”

“Oh, stop it, Kenji,” Jiro sighed. “Give me some credit for being out here.”

“True. You’ve scored our only goal so far. The only goal of the game, in fact.”

Then the game started up again, and Fujitaka found himself once again caught up in the rapid rush and flow of the game, sliding between and around students and teachers alike, mind focused on the game before him. Simple running required little to no concentration on his part; he could smile, laugh, daydream even. But a game of skill and ability like this—especially one he really hadn’t played in years—took more work.

He hadn’t been surprised to discover that the cousin, as he’d taken to calling her, was exceptionally good. She’d nearly scored for the students twice, and had been stopped once by a block and the other time by a lucky kick on his part. He’d almost laughed at her expression as she turned on him, fuming, but his attention was caught by another laugh behind him.

“Don’t worry, Sonomi-chan!” she yelled, waving and laughing. The look on Sonomi’s face softened, and then both she and Fujitaka took off for the other end of the field.

An hour and a half and many breaks later, the game ended with the teachers victorious once again. Jiro’s goal still stood as the only one of the game, Sonomi having been thwarted twice again by Fujitaka. He wasn’t surprised that she was absolutely livid by the end of the game; the way the teachers told it, it had been for the past few years the teachers trying to outscore Sonomi.

Gratefully he accepted a wet towel and wiped his brow, standing to gather his things to go home. As he hefted his bag (filled with tests he needed to grade, he recalled), he heard her gentle voice from behind him.

“You were really wonderful today,” she complimented, not even blushing. “No one has been able to challenge Sonomi-chan like that before. She’s quite upset.” She even giggled lightly.

“Ah…” he stammered, slightly flustered. “I didn’t mean to make her angry.”

“You’ll be playing in the other teacher-student games, right?” she asked eagerly, though she was already half turned away, ready to return to her cousin.

“I think so…”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”