Chapter 23
The light and shadows of summer vacation stretch across the streets of Tokyo.
Xiaokong is no longer the shivering little ball of fur. Now he is like a fluffy cloud, rolling around in the sun-filled living room, chasing and biting toys, full of energy.
Keigo Atobe's training camp in Canada with the Hyotei Tennis Club is nearing its end. For the past two weeks, as if fulfilling some kind of tacit agreement, I've become a faithful recorder of Sora's daily life. My phone is filled with moments of his growth:
[Picture] Xiaokong successfully climbed over the fence of his nest and sat on the "high ground" with a confused look on his face.
[Video] He persevered in chasing the jumping spots of light on the floor, and finally he was so tired that he lay down and gasped for breath.
[Text] "Xiaokong has a good appetite today, but seems to have taken a special interest in your magazine. The cover... um, does it need saving?"
[Voiceover] His voice carried a hint of relief from exercise: "I just came back from the Hiyoshi Dojo. I practiced a few moves with a few young students. They still have a lot of room for improvement."
At first, Atobe's replies were mostly brief and pragmatic, occurring between training sessions:
"receive."
"knew."
“Magazines don’t have to care.”
"Well, be careful."
I don’t know when it started, but video calls at night became a regular routine.
The screen lit up, revealing Atobe's face. The background was usually a room at the training camp, with the outline of a distant mountain range sometimes visible through the window. He had just finished an intense training session, his hair slightly damp, a trace of fatigue between his brows, and his deep purple-gray eyes, under the bright light, seemed particularly profound.
"How are you today, Xiaokong?" His voice was low and hoarse from training, and it was his usual opening.
I would turn the camera to the little one sleeping soundly or enjoying himself on the carpet. Atobe's gaze would linger for a moment, and the corners of his lips would unconsciously soften a little.
Then, the conversation flowed naturally, and the topic was no longer limited to Xiaokong.
He would talk about the crisp, dry air in Canada, which was completely different from the stuffiness in Tokyo; he would mention the magnificent mountains and lakes near the training grounds; occasionally, with a bit of resignation, he would mention how Takehito almost missed morning training because he was craving maple syrup; he would talk about the exchange matches with local powerhouses with his usual calm and confident tone, but he would also frankly acknowledge the challenges posed by the opponent's power-based style of play; he would even casually mention that he found a rare wild flower with glacier-blue petals on the banks of a stream fed by glacial meltwater very special.
I also started sharing more:
"The new student at Hiyoshi Dojo is quite powerful, but his foundation is still shallow. He showed his weakness after just a few rounds."
"Rie insisted on dragging me to try on new dresses, but those complicated designs really don't suit me."
"Giving Xiaokong a bath was like a battle. He had a lot of fun, but the bathroom needs to be tidied up again."
We talked about training, exotic scenery, interesting stories about teammates, trivial matters in the dojo, and Xiaokong's growth.
The radio waves crossed the ocean, the background noise either the noise of teammates or the silence of a foreign land. Time slipped quietly in peaceful conversation, often chatting until the night was deep, the phone slightly hot.
A silent sense of closeness quietly grows in this day-to-day contact.
The alienation and barriers of identity that once existed seemed to be quietly melted away by these ordinary and warm daily moments. I got used to hearing his deep voice at night, used to sharing my experiences, big or small, with him, and also used to the unconscious concentration and gentleness in his eyes when he looked at Xiaokong through the screen.
Such changes naturally caught the attention of those who were interested.
Canada, training base, it's late at night.
Atobe ended the video call, the screen went dark, and the room seemed to still linger with the peaceful aftertaste of their earlier conversation. He put down his phone, pressed his fingertips between his eyebrows, and prepared to stand.
"It seems that Xiaokong is safe and sound again today?" A voice with a knowing smile sounded at the door.
Oshitari leaned against the door frame, the blue light behind his glasses gleaming with an all-seeing radiance. He was dressed in casual clothes, and had obviously just finished an event.
Atobe paused slightly, the remaining gentleness on his face quickly faded, and he returned to his usual reserved expression: "What's the matter?"
"I'm just wondering if our Minister's overseas 'family affairs' hotline is working smoothly."
Oshitari walked in, sat down casually, and glanced meaningfully at the mobile phone on the table, "The frequency is so high, the duration is so long... and every time it ends, the aura around our Atobe-kun seems to be particularly peaceful?" His tone was lazy, but every word was precise.
Atobe frowned slightly, his tone calm and unperturbed: "I just want to know about Xiaokong's recent situation."
"Oh?" Oshitari raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Does it take an hour-long video call every night to keep up with the latest news? And you're so relaxed that even the tension from intense training dissipates, your brows relax?"
He gently pointed out, "This effect is much better than ice compress."
A barely perceptible heat passed through Atobe's ear, but his face remained calm. He only glanced at Oshitari with a silent warning.
"Don't get me wrong, this is just a friendly reminder." Oshitari spread his hands, looking sincere. "As a teammate and friend, I just feel that the time to return is approaching, and returning empty-handed seems a bit lacking in sincerity?"
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes behind his glasses hinting slyly, "A special little gift brought back from across the ocean always makes people smile."
Atobe's eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not refute.
Seeing this, Inuzaka's smile grew even more relaxed as he continued, "Canada has a lot of specialties. Maple syrup is too sweet, and ice wine seems contrived. Why not choose something unique? One that shows your thoughtfulness without being cliché?"
He stopped there.
Atobe fell silent, his fingertips unconsciously sliding across the smooth edge of his phone. Oshitari's words were like a pebble dropped into a calm lake, creating ripples.
A gift... for her? This thought quietly took root.
I couldn't help but imagine her expression when she received it. Would she be surprised, or would her eyes suddenly light up like the day she heard the news of the national competition?
Seeing Atobe lost in thought, the usual sharpness between his brows replaced by a rare, somewhat uncertain softness, Oshitsuka stood up with satisfaction and patted him lightly on the shoulder: "That's all I have to say, young master. Good night."
He left leisurely with a smile that showed he knew everything.
The room fell silent. Outside the window, the Canadian sky was vast and deep. Atobe leaned back in his chair, his purplish-gray eyes gazing into space, his thoughts drifting far away: What kind of gift would be both special and just right for her?
The Tokyo night was just as gentle. Holding Xiaokong, who had already drifted off to sleep, I gazed out the window at the twinkling stars, my heart at peace. A vague sense of anticipation, one I hadn't yet fully grasped, gently caressed my heart like the night breeze.
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