After watching Prince of Tennis episode 176 (the second part of Fuji and Tezuka’s match), I have a question about a particular translation. My DVDs don’t always have the best, most accurate subtitles, which I know even from my (extremely) rudimentary knowledge of spoken Japanese.
So I wanted to ask those of you who have the fansubbed versions (or those of you who know Japanese), what exactly does Ryuzaki-sensei say when she compares Fuji and Tezuka? In my version, she flat-out says that Fuji plays tennis for selfless reasons (for Yuuta, during his match with Mizuki, and for Tachibana during his match with Kirihara), while about Tezuka, she says (quote): “He cares only about himself and about victory. He’s Fuji’s exact opposite.” I want to know if Fuji’s selflessness (when it comes to tennis) and Tezuka’s contrasting selfishness are stated as bluntly in the fansubbed version as they are in my subtitles, and if the actual Japanese says as much.
I also can’t go without saying that this is possibly one of the gayest episodes of anything ever, though oddly, I almost like the Tezuka/Fuji implications better when they’re slightly more understated. Despite their reputation as one of the “married” couples at Seigaku, I only saw hints up until this episode, whereas Tezuka/Ryoma asserts itself pretty blatantly throughout the series. Am I just reading the signals differently than everyone else…?
Either way, I kind of want to write some Tezuka/Fuji now, along with some Tezuka/Ryoma. Ooh. Maybe I’ll just write more Tezuka/Ryoma/Fuji instead.
I was watching the US Open today with my mother and my brother, and my brother had this to say this afternoon: Pillar Stealer vs. Pong Man. I both love and hate the Open.
Anyway. Fic! :D
Perceptions, by kishmet. From moonlightstarfi's request: Tezuka/Ryoma/Fuji Prompt: Stars. I love Power Triangle so much right now. ♥♥♥
“It’s warm tonight,” said Ryoma. “I don’t need a blanket.”
“But I brought one big enough to share.” Fuji draped it around Tezuka and Ryoma, who were sitting on the ground beside each other. “See?” He sat down next to Tezuka too, bringing the end of the blanket around his own shoulders.
“Fine,” Ryoma said, moving in closer even though the blanket was big enough for them to be farther apart. He rested his head on Tezuka’s shoulder. “I guess it’s okay.”
They were all silent for a minute or so, and then Fuji asked, “What do the two of you see in the stars?” When Ryoma and Tezuka both looked at him, he smiled. “It’s a game I used to play with my brother. We looked to see what shapes we thought the stars made.”
“Probably you just used it to psychoanalyze him,” Ryoma muttered, but he glanced up anyway. “Those ones right there look like a racket.”
“Hm, show me.” Fuji raised his head to look where Ryoma pointed.
“There,” said Ryoma.
“Oh yes, I see the tennis racket there, and there’s the net. The player there-” Fuji reached up a hand to trace the outline. “-is about to serve. See the ball? He’s just tossed it into the air. He’s going to win, of course. The other player isn’t even ready to return it, see there?” He pointed, and then chuckled. “The stars love tennis nearly as much as you do.”
Tezuka sighed and shook his head, glancing at Fuji. “It’s never easy to tell when you’re being serious.”
“I’m always serious with you. Aren’t I, Ryoma?” Fuji leaned forward to smile at Ryoma around Tezuka.
“No you’re not,” said Ryoma bluntly, still leaning on Tezuka’s shoulder and looking at the sky.
“Most of the time?” Fuji asked.
“Almost never,” said Ryoma.
“Well then, what do the two of you see?” Fuji leaned against Tezuka’s other shoulder, shifting comfortably when Tezuka’s arm settled around him.
Tezuka nodded at the sky ahead of them. “Orion,” he said. “The three stars aligned there, and the four stars around them. And the ones above him are Taurus and the Pleiades.”
Fuji laughed, and Ryoma said, “Those are the real constellations, buchou. Those don’t count.”
Tezuka looked down at him. “No?”
“No,” said Ryoma. “Not for psychoanalyzing, anyway.” He took Tezuka’s hand in his own and pointed both of them up at the sky. “There is a net there, but the other player is ready. See? He’s just shorter than the other one. He’s going to win, though,” he added.
“He shouldn’t be so sure of himself,” said Fuji. “The first player looks determined, doesn’t he?”
“No,” said Ryoma, bringing his and Tezuka’s hands down and flashing a smirk at Fuji. “He looks like he never takes anything seriously.”
“He takes things seriously when he wants to,” said Tezuka.
“He doesn’t often want to,” Fuji mused. “But there are some things that can make him reconsider.”
“Hm.” Ryoma grinned and snuggled against Tezuka’s arm. “What things?”
“Oh…” Fuji gazed upward. Then he smiled over at both of them. “Stars.”
Tutelage, by kishmet. From knw's request: Atobe/Ryoma Homework. I so badly wanted another excuse to write more AtoRyo. *___*
“This is hardly the way I’m accustomed to doing my work.” Atobe sat on the edge of Ryoma’s bed, giving the entire room a disparaging glance. Karupin hopped onto the bed and stepped onto Atobe’s leg. “Generally I have access to the finest resources and the finest tutors, not to mention…” he grimaced and moved his leg. Karupin moved with it. “I am less accessible to felines.”
“Just because you need tutors doesn’t mean that I do,” said Ryoma, never looking up from the paper.
Atobe snorted. “It also doesn’t mean you don’t need them, brat.” He picked Karupin off his lap and put him on the floor. Karupin promptly jumped back onto the bed and climbed into Atobe’s lap again.
“I can tell who’s king here,” Ryoma observed, glancing over and smirking.
“Most of my tutors teach subjects that aren’t necessarily available at school,” Atobe said, ignoring Ryoma’s comment. He relented and stroked Karupin, who purred and curled up, nuzzling his face into Atobe’s leg. “Latin, for instance.”
“They don’t teach that at school because it’s useless,” said Ryoma. “No one speaks Latin anymore.”
“That’s true,” said Atobe. “Only those who are extremely cultured bother to learn. Although in America, even the money is printed with Latin phrases.”
“I know that,” Ryoma said, tapping his pencil irritably. “E pluribus unum doesn’t count. Half the people there don’t know what it means.”
“What does it mean?” Atobe inquired, with a satisfied smile. “Don’t tell me you’re one of the half that doesn’t know. I can’t imagine that even you would allow yourself to lack such knowledge.”
“Che.” Ryoma held up the piece of paper, on which was written, in English, One made out of many. “I know what it means.”
“Then you agree that Latin is not entirely useless.”
“I guess it’s not, if you go around reading money in America,” said Ryoma, putting the piece of paper back on the desk. “You look like one of those evil millionaires with a cat.”
“I’m sure that’s the reason I’ve never bought a cat of my own,” said Atobe dryly. “I would hate to be mistake for a villain in some low-class movie that no one with any sense would bother seeing.”
“I bet all of them have tutors, too,” said Ryoma, then closed his notebook and got to his feet. He picked Karupin up and set him on the ground, eliciting a disgruntled meow from the cat. “About time-” Atobe began.
Then Ryoma took Karupin’s place on Atobe’s lap, straddling him, and kissed him, lacing his arms around Atobe’s neck. He leaned forward, pushing Atobe back until both of them were lying on the bed, Ryoma on top.
“With all those tutors and your servants or whatever around, we can’t do this,” Ryoma murmured smugly, breaking the kiss. “But we could still go to your house, if you want.”
Atobe considered for no more than a moment before giving Ryoma a smirk of his own. “No,” he said. “I think I’ll be able to work without the tutors this time.”