PoT fic: Elements (Tezuka/Fuji, PG-13)
Title: Elements
Author: ann89103
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Fuji POV. Does that count?
Prompt: Written for springkink, Prince of Tennis, Tezuka/Fuji - silence - and the peaceful quiet you create for me / and the way you keep the world at bay for me.
Word Count: 1,530
Summary: Fuji’s thoughts about life and love.
A/N: The prompt lyrics - and the two lines used in the story (quoted in italics) - come from the song Easy Silence by The Dixie Chicks.
***
It’s not easy being a tensai, but I’m very good at hiding my thoughts and feelings. My first memories are not of being held close by my parents, or playing games with my siblings. Instead, what I remember is cold white rooms with doctors and flash cards and test after test.
My father made it clear early on that I was expected to be successful and wealthy before I turned thirty. It didn’t matter what career I chose, as long as it was respectable - business, science, even music, providing it was classical or traditional - and brought honor to the Fuji name.
I had hoped his spending so much time working in America would soften the edges of his straitlaced, conventional beliefs. Sadly, the result was the opposite, and on his semi-annual visits home, he would once again make his requirements known.
My mother - a kind, generous woman - was much less demanding. She wanted me to be a success, certainly, but in a field of my own choice. She was the one who made sure I had the resources needed to pursue my early hobbies and interests.
Tennis was not an easy, or cheap, sport to practice. The equipment alone was expensive - many of the best players have at least a half-dozen racquets - not to mention the proper clothing and sneakers that had to be replaced regularly due to wear and tear. Then add on tennis lessons, a club membership so you can practice during the winter months plus tournament fees, and the total cost was more than most families could bear. But because of my mother’s influence, the money was spent without complaint.
Tennis wasn’t my only pursuit. I still own my lovely, hand-crafted classical guitar (father would not even consider an electric one at the time) that I play regularly, and the cost of my photography equipment made my tennis expenses seem insignificant.
Mother’s only expectation from me - never spoken of directly, but clear in her smiles when she spoke of nieces and nephews and missing the sound of young, childish voices in the house - was a respectable marriage to a sweet young woman and the production of adorable tensai grandchildren.
I love my parents - a strained, but deferential regard for father, a warmer, multi-layered affection for mother - but I knew years ago that I would eventually prove a disappointment to them both.
I could not be the son they wanted me to be.
***
Ask my friends and family to describe me, and they will use the same predictable, expected words.
Intelligent. Soft-spoken. Friendly. Protective. Genius.
Inui, Eiji and my sister Yumiko, more insightful than most, will make a few choice additions.
Complex. Stubborn. Passionate.
There is only one, highly-charged word for me to include.
Homosexual.
That single truth makes all the difference to my life.
***
I don’t think it’s any consolation to my father that, at age twenty-eight, I am a successful, acclaimed writer and have put more money into savings than he has earned over his entire career.
I don’t think it’s any solace to my mother that I am very happy in my relationship with an upstanding, wonderful man.
My younger brother Yuuta continues to look at me with a mix of grudging admiration and still-simmering resentment. Admiration for following my own path in life; resentment over my achievements coupled with the added stress of having father’s exacting expectations of me transferred onto his shoulders.
It is a heavy burden to bear.
Yumiko is the only one that still treats me like family, giving her affection without reservation or restraint. I admire her vitality, her free spirit and more than anything her capacity for love.
She told me once that her cards had warned of a decision I would make with critical, life-changing consequences. The two resulting lives would be complete opposites: quiet happiness or lingering remorse. In response, I informed her there never was a choice to make, because I never considered the second route.
Much has been made of my mind, but I am always ruled by my heart.
***
Tezuka is been called a pillar and a rock so often, I sometimes amuse myself by envisioning him as such: standing immobile, unyielding to the sun’s sweltering rays or the torrential rainfall from a summer storm.
I admire this image of him, whether made of elegant marble or common stone: he is a strong, self-assured man with hidden depths only I am allowed to explore. His body is sculpted, perfect; his mind is reasoned, precise.
It is only when I add glasses and a tennis racquet to Tezuka’s likeness that I am lost to uncontrollable laughter.
He is kind enough to chalk it up to one of my numerous flights of fancy, and lets me enjoy such amusements with more patience and generosity than I deserve.
It is moments like this that I smile at him - eyes open and intense - and think at him, you mean the world to me, Tezuka.
We’ve never needed much in the way of words to hold a conversation, and by the slight smile stretching across his lips I can tell Tezuka recognizes - and returns - that unspoken sentiment.
***
Sometimes, when Tezuka is off at one of his tournaments, I ask myself that most clichéd of questions: why do I love him?
I know why: I’ve known since the beginning, and his actions since then only reinforces that knowledge. I know why, and thinking about it is one way to have Tezuka here with me when he is actually thousands of miles away.
It is not his physical appearance, much as I appreciate those attractive features and relish the feel of his body, solid and vigorous against my own. It is not his mind, much as I adore challenging Tezuka’s ideas and teasing him mercilessly over his few idiosyncrasies.
It is his character I love the most, his force of will. Every action he takes is principled, decisive and without hesitation. Even when his family - one even more traditional than my own - insists that the proper behavior would be to marry and preserve the family line, he refuses, because it would be a lie.
Possibly only Oishi would believe me if I were to reveal Tezuka’s most closely-guarded secret: that he is ruled by his heart as well.
Stoic, serious Tezuka is very much a reality, but there is far more to him than that. The world doesn’t get to see the considerate, tender man that soothes me during the times when my mind is racing, too many thoughts and ideas competing for dominance.
Tezuka’s silence speaks to me, cutting cleanly, effortlessly through the chaos when the noise becomes unmanageable. His eyes - focused and commanding as always - easily draws my attention solely his way. His kisses steal my breath away; never one to admit defeat, I concentrate both on feeling that passion and returning the favor. His touch is like fire - a consuming pleasure, a burning freedom - and I am both scorched and healed by the heat.
***
These are not my words, but upon first reading them I commit them to memory:
Easy silence that you make for me/ It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me/ And the way you keep the world at bay for me
***
Our relationship is - and always has been - one of balance and reciprocity. For all the ardor and contentment he inspires in me, I respond in turn.
Tezuka soothes and distracts me; in turn, I energize and distract Tezuka.
Tezuka is perfection, but not perfect. There are times he is smothered by his sense of responsibility and his compulsive need to live up to his own impossible standards.
An individual’s expectations are harder to bear than those imposed by others, and any perceived failures more severely punished.
If he is my solid, steadfast rock, then I am his unpredictable, yet constant wind. I surround him - sometimes a slow, comforting swirl of air, at other times a gale force of energy and provocation - tease him, and sidetrack him from his contemplations.
At my worst I am chaotic; at his worst Tezuka is frozen in place. When I need him he pulls me in, the Tezuka Zone at it’s finest. When he needs me I am a trickster, a tensai, changeable and sneaky and sometimes downright evil, countering his seriousness with every weapon at my disposal. Sometimes I use words, just to throw him off-balance. Most of the time I keep our silence, and use my smiles and my eyes (promising wicked, delightful pleasures) to better effect.
If Tezuka’s touch is like fire, then mine resembles water: sometimes slow and placid, designed to quench his thirst; at other times a rushing torrent - an overwhelming delight, a drowning liberation - and he is both refreshed and healed by the flow.
***
Like in our first full game on the Seigaku tennis courts, our life together is an exciting, hard-fought match: we live, love and play with everything we have. And much like the elements, we not only endure over time, but flourish.
Author: ann89103
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Fuji POV. Does that count?
Prompt: Written for springkink, Prince of Tennis, Tezuka/Fuji - silence - and the peaceful quiet you create for me / and the way you keep the world at bay for me.
Word Count: 1,530
Summary: Fuji’s thoughts about life and love.
A/N: The prompt lyrics - and the two lines used in the story (quoted in italics) - come from the song Easy Silence by The Dixie Chicks.
***
It’s not easy being a tensai, but I’m very good at hiding my thoughts and feelings. My first memories are not of being held close by my parents, or playing games with my siblings. Instead, what I remember is cold white rooms with doctors and flash cards and test after test.
My father made it clear early on that I was expected to be successful and wealthy before I turned thirty. It didn’t matter what career I chose, as long as it was respectable - business, science, even music, providing it was classical or traditional - and brought honor to the Fuji name.
I had hoped his spending so much time working in America would soften the edges of his straitlaced, conventional beliefs. Sadly, the result was the opposite, and on his semi-annual visits home, he would once again make his requirements known.
My mother - a kind, generous woman - was much less demanding. She wanted me to be a success, certainly, but in a field of my own choice. She was the one who made sure I had the resources needed to pursue my early hobbies and interests.
Tennis was not an easy, or cheap, sport to practice. The equipment alone was expensive - many of the best players have at least a half-dozen racquets - not to mention the proper clothing and sneakers that had to be replaced regularly due to wear and tear. Then add on tennis lessons, a club membership so you can practice during the winter months plus tournament fees, and the total cost was more than most families could bear. But because of my mother’s influence, the money was spent without complaint.
Tennis wasn’t my only pursuit. I still own my lovely, hand-crafted classical guitar (father would not even consider an electric one at the time) that I play regularly, and the cost of my photography equipment made my tennis expenses seem insignificant.
Mother’s only expectation from me - never spoken of directly, but clear in her smiles when she spoke of nieces and nephews and missing the sound of young, childish voices in the house - was a respectable marriage to a sweet young woman and the production of adorable tensai grandchildren.
I love my parents - a strained, but deferential regard for father, a warmer, multi-layered affection for mother - but I knew years ago that I would eventually prove a disappointment to them both.
I could not be the son they wanted me to be.
***
Ask my friends and family to describe me, and they will use the same predictable, expected words.
Intelligent. Soft-spoken. Friendly. Protective. Genius.
Inui, Eiji and my sister Yumiko, more insightful than most, will make a few choice additions.
Complex. Stubborn. Passionate.
There is only one, highly-charged word for me to include.
Homosexual.
That single truth makes all the difference to my life.
***
I don’t think it’s any consolation to my father that, at age twenty-eight, I am a successful, acclaimed writer and have put more money into savings than he has earned over his entire career.
I don’t think it’s any solace to my mother that I am very happy in my relationship with an upstanding, wonderful man.
My younger brother Yuuta continues to look at me with a mix of grudging admiration and still-simmering resentment. Admiration for following my own path in life; resentment over my achievements coupled with the added stress of having father’s exacting expectations of me transferred onto his shoulders.
It is a heavy burden to bear.
Yumiko is the only one that still treats me like family, giving her affection without reservation or restraint. I admire her vitality, her free spirit and more than anything her capacity for love.
She told me once that her cards had warned of a decision I would make with critical, life-changing consequences. The two resulting lives would be complete opposites: quiet happiness or lingering remorse. In response, I informed her there never was a choice to make, because I never considered the second route.
Much has been made of my mind, but I am always ruled by my heart.
***
Tezuka is been called a pillar and a rock so often, I sometimes amuse myself by envisioning him as such: standing immobile, unyielding to the sun’s sweltering rays or the torrential rainfall from a summer storm.
I admire this image of him, whether made of elegant marble or common stone: he is a strong, self-assured man with hidden depths only I am allowed to explore. His body is sculpted, perfect; his mind is reasoned, precise.
It is only when I add glasses and a tennis racquet to Tezuka’s likeness that I am lost to uncontrollable laughter.
He is kind enough to chalk it up to one of my numerous flights of fancy, and lets me enjoy such amusements with more patience and generosity than I deserve.
It is moments like this that I smile at him - eyes open and intense - and think at him, you mean the world to me, Tezuka.
We’ve never needed much in the way of words to hold a conversation, and by the slight smile stretching across his lips I can tell Tezuka recognizes - and returns - that unspoken sentiment.
***
Sometimes, when Tezuka is off at one of his tournaments, I ask myself that most clichéd of questions: why do I love him?
I know why: I’ve known since the beginning, and his actions since then only reinforces that knowledge. I know why, and thinking about it is one way to have Tezuka here with me when he is actually thousands of miles away.
It is not his physical appearance, much as I appreciate those attractive features and relish the feel of his body, solid and vigorous against my own. It is not his mind, much as I adore challenging Tezuka’s ideas and teasing him mercilessly over his few idiosyncrasies.
It is his character I love the most, his force of will. Every action he takes is principled, decisive and without hesitation. Even when his family - one even more traditional than my own - insists that the proper behavior would be to marry and preserve the family line, he refuses, because it would be a lie.
Possibly only Oishi would believe me if I were to reveal Tezuka’s most closely-guarded secret: that he is ruled by his heart as well.
Stoic, serious Tezuka is very much a reality, but there is far more to him than that. The world doesn’t get to see the considerate, tender man that soothes me during the times when my mind is racing, too many thoughts and ideas competing for dominance.
Tezuka’s silence speaks to me, cutting cleanly, effortlessly through the chaos when the noise becomes unmanageable. His eyes - focused and commanding as always - easily draws my attention solely his way. His kisses steal my breath away; never one to admit defeat, I concentrate both on feeling that passion and returning the favor. His touch is like fire - a consuming pleasure, a burning freedom - and I am both scorched and healed by the heat.
***
These are not my words, but upon first reading them I commit them to memory:
Easy silence that you make for me/ It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me/ And the way you keep the world at bay for me
***
Our relationship is - and always has been - one of balance and reciprocity. For all the ardor and contentment he inspires in me, I respond in turn.
Tezuka soothes and distracts me; in turn, I energize and distract Tezuka.
Tezuka is perfection, but not perfect. There are times he is smothered by his sense of responsibility and his compulsive need to live up to his own impossible standards.
An individual’s expectations are harder to bear than those imposed by others, and any perceived failures more severely punished.
If he is my solid, steadfast rock, then I am his unpredictable, yet constant wind. I surround him - sometimes a slow, comforting swirl of air, at other times a gale force of energy and provocation - tease him, and sidetrack him from his contemplations.
At my worst I am chaotic; at his worst Tezuka is frozen in place. When I need him he pulls me in, the Tezuka Zone at it’s finest. When he needs me I am a trickster, a tensai, changeable and sneaky and sometimes downright evil, countering his seriousness with every weapon at my disposal. Sometimes I use words, just to throw him off-balance. Most of the time I keep our silence, and use my smiles and my eyes (promising wicked, delightful pleasures) to better effect.
If Tezuka’s touch is like fire, then mine resembles water: sometimes slow and placid, designed to quench his thirst; at other times a rushing torrent - an overwhelming delight, a drowning liberation - and he is both refreshed and healed by the flow.
***
Like in our first full game on the Seigaku tennis courts, our life together is an exciting, hard-fought match: we live, love and play with everything we have. And much like the elements, we not only endure over time, but flourish.