Prince of Tennis: Jade Gives Off Smoke

I came up with the idea one hot, stuffy afternoon last summer.

I flopped onto the bed and let my mind wander.

Then Jade Born of Smoke suddenly popped into my head.

All right, at first I didn't want to commemorate anything, much less dwell on sorrow.

What right did I have to talk about sadness?

The heart is too small to hold so much melancholy. Who will shelter the excess years of our youth once they have been shattered?

So I chose to write a story about someone on the margins, at the edge of things.

What color am I in your eyes?

I don't want to talk about trying hard, but I have to finish writing this.

Then I'll get a good night's sleep and dream until dawn.

Look, go, and let things take their course.