Captain Tsubasa One-Shots

A Distance (1/3) [Taro Misaki]

[ the reader is male | third person ]

[ no trigger warnings ]

[ fluff]

[ i ultimately dodged referencing anything that really HAPPENS happens to misaki during world youth and did kinda go into headcanon/OOC territory. feel free to request again if this wasn't really what you wanted! i do have more parts in the works with more actual fluff focused on the truck accident :) ]

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Something has been off since Taro suddenly called one of his closest friends, asking if he could sleep the night on his stop in France during his globe-trotting adventure. He initially wasn't going to ask, but the longer Taro spent staring at the looping footage of the All-Japan versus Thailand Youth, the more his friend suspected that he truly needed some kind of encouragement to voice his thoughts.

The longer the silence between them persisted, the thicker the cloud around Taro's head became. The longer the silence between them persisted, the more he worried Taro would soon become blinded by his own thoughts.

"Taro, are you okay?"

He seems to snap out of his trance, even if for a brief moment, to pause the recording and look up at the other teen, a frown on that face as it gazed down at him in concern.

"Of course, why?" He tries to smile in reassurance, but he should have known that wouldn't work against the boy who's known him since his Nankatsu days.

"You've been replaying that clip of number 20 passing to Tsubasa as soon as you got access to my TV. I've never seen you this obsessive over anything."

Taro's half-hearted smile slowly fades into a wistful expression, one that brings the slightly older male even more worry. He makes his way over to the small sofa-bed and scoots over a short stool to sit next to him.

"I was unsure if I wanted to ask earlier, but I also don't want this to get out of hand. What's bothering you so much?"

"Ah, I was hoping you wouldn't have noticed," he confesses sheepishly, prompting an unimpressed glance. Taro once again averts his gaze to the paused screen, his usually-serene eyes troubled and softly turbulent as they focus on the short form of Japan's newest player. He can feel the other male staring at him in turn, patiently waiting for him to speak. He can feel the pressure beginning to spill over the edge as it boils, the stress and anxiety growing to be too much.

"He's impressive, that Shingo Aoi."

The controller is slipped from his hands as the other teen presses the play button, the sounds of faint cheering and a French commentator echoing off the walls of the small room. The words and phrases flew over both their heads, however, as they both zeroed in on the jersey numbered 20.

"This is a bit of a long shot, but if my gut is right, I want to remind you that they need you as much as you need them."

He blinks very slowly before turning to the other young man, insides freezing up in a twisted amalgamation when he sees that kind, sweet smile gently aimed his way.

Taro wants to protest. He wants to say that wasn't at all what he was thinking, but deep down, from how he feels his breathing grow heavier and traces of ragged, he knows he is right. Not wanting to be not enough, not wanting to fall behind, especially not behind Tsubasa, not wanting to no longer be part of the team. He may know this is simply the way of the pros, but there is no denying he wants to be there, with his friends, with the ball, having fun.

He sees Aoi and wishes that were him playing on the field with Tsubasa and the others again. But he could never take that away from Aoi, or anyone else. Besides, he understands this is simply the way of the professional world. If you are good enough, you're put on the field—and if you are not, you will be dragged away by your ankles if they need to.

He sees how Aoi plays, and understands him. He sees an earnestness and joy he wishes he hadn't to some extent lost during high school, he sees a giddiness he has always kept deep down inside of him, he sees an eagerness he still shares wholeheartedly.

He smiles shakily at his former upperclassman, who offers an understanding smile in return. Taro accepts the grasp on his shoulders, he accepts the warm, kind embrace that makes him feel at home. His own arms are slow to return the hug as he takes a deep breath in, and a deep breath out to calm his heart and oncoming tears.

"I miss playing with them."

"I know, Taro."

He isn't entirely sure why he is crying, but everything seems to fall into place as he shuts his eyes.

"I can't wait to get back to Japan."

"I know, Taro."