[One-shot] Tohoku (Prince of Tennis)
Title: Tohoku
Characters: Tezuka/Fuji
Wordcount/Rating: 1200+ words / G
Summary: Tezuka leads Fuji to Tohoku in search of something; Fuji leads Tezuka home to find it.
Author's Notes: Written for vierblith_tefu for christmas_cacti and first posted here on Dec 2, 2007. I hope everyone enjoys this. Four people used the same word ("vivid") and three different people used the exact same phrase ("vivid imagery") in their comments; this amazes me. ^_^;
Japan was beautiful when the seasons changed. Winter turning to spring caused the skies to brighten and clouds to whiten. The change from spring into summer was heralded first by a light dusting of white plum blossoms, but soon pink cherry blossoms colored the world. Then there were breathtaking displays of fireworks, and the too-bright brilliance of summer softened into the muted understatement of fall. Fall fading into winter brought torrents of rain, crisp clear skies, and mesmerizing sunsets.
Confined to the heart of the city by duty and schedules, the seasons all looked the same to Tezuka. That was why, when he saw golden yellows and glorious reds against a background of nondescript brown, he stopped in spite of himself and turned to look.
It was a large poster of the Tohoku region in the window of a travel agency's branch office (Shinkansen and hotel! Enjoy the beautiful fall scenery and relax amidst the colorful combination of seasons!). The focus of the poster was a bridge that spanned a valley full of maple trees. The sky was clear and light blue, the bridge grayish-white, and the surrounding trees and hills a profusion of green, red, yellow, and orange. As he looked at the proud, solitary bridge, the breadth of the hills, and the height of the skies above, Tezuka felt an inner tug.
It wasn't until the store assistant walked out with a sweet smile on her face and brochures in her hand that Tezuka realized he'd been standing there for some time, lost in thought, and that he'd missed his bus. He shook his head, apologized for wasting her time, and walked away.
He was late to his meeting with Fuji, but Fuji accepted his apology and explanation, tilting his head with a smile. Tezuka had never been late before; he didn't like breaking his record of punctuality for a reason like this. Fuji told him not to mind. It proves you appreciate beauty.
When Tezuka asked Fuji how anyone could not appreciate beauty, Fuji laughed.
They went to Tohoku the next autumn.
They passed many places on the Shinkansen. The green mountains of Fukushima were also colored yellow and red, gold and orange. Closer to the tracks, the scenery was a featureless blur as the train sped by, but in the distance Tezuka could see mountains; splashes of autumn colors against a backdrop of deep forest-green.
Fuji ordered some sandwiches and unadon. Tezuka nodded absently, looking out the window as the Shinkansen carried them further north, seeing everything and nothing.
In Sendai, they transferred to a local line. Fuji asked what was in Yamagata, but Tezuka didn't know.
Fuji nodded, smiled, and looked at the signs posted above the train doors. "Let's get off here," he suggested, pointing to a station.
Tezuka agreed without reading the name. Fuji wasn't the one responsible for their trip north, but Tezuka didn't feel very responsible at that moment. If there was something Fuji would like to see, Tezuka thought they should see it.
The target of Fuji's interest appeared to be a national park, green even at this time of year. They walked, following hiking trails. Tezuka looked at the moss covering the sides of the raised stone paths and the way the trees leaned over the river. He watched as water frothed white around boulders and rocks in its path. When they walked through a wooded area, the trees ramrod-straight and towering above them, Tezuka looked up to see the clear blue sky peeking through the canopy high above them.
He felt very small. What am I doing here?
It would be another hour to the station on foot, and Fuji looked tired. They stopped to rest, Fuji sitting on a convenient boulder by the path, Tezuka leaning against the nearest tree.
"Here," Fuji said.
Tezuka found a warm paper cup in his hands and smelled chocolate. He looked down at the warm beverage, and then at Fuji again.
"It's a little cold out here," Fuji said, pouring some for himself out of the little thermos he now held in his hands. He smiled at Tezuka and put the thermos back into his bag.
Fuji was right. Tezuka felt it now, the chill beginning to permeate through his jacket. He checked Fuji's clothes, relieved to find Fuji had also dressed warmly. Fuji's scarf looked a little disheveled, and without speaking, Tezuka reached out. He handed Fuji his cup, unwound Fuji's scarf, and then wound it back efficiently.
Fuji chuckled when Tezuka was done. "Thank you, Mother," he said, eyes twinkling at Tezuka as he returned the cup.
It was still warm to the touch. "You're the one who brought hot chocolate," Tezuka said, fingers closing around it. The warmth began to seep into his fingertips.
Inexplicably, he felt better now.
They arrived at Yamadera station ninety minutes later. Standing before the ticket gates, Fuji asked Tezuka if anything about the mountain they'd just hiked around had captured his interest.
Tezuka opened his mouth, found his mind a blank, and closed his mouth again with a vague answering sound.
A train departed. Another pulled in. Still they stood before the ticket gates while Fuji smiled at Tezuka and waited for an answer.
Tezuka looked away at the train beyond the gates. He had suggested this trip; he had invited Fuji to come with him. They had spent three hours on a train and a little over two hours hiking; yet there was nothing here for him, and Tezuka didn't understand why he had wanted to go north in the first place. He looked back at the mountain, seeing green and blue, red and white, orange and gold.
All he could think of was the Matterhorn; these mountains had not tugged at him, in the end.
He opened his mouth. Let's go back, he wanted to say. When he located Fuji, though, Fuji was already at the ticket counter.
Fuji turned to Tezuka and smiled, giving him a little wave. "Ne, Tezuka, do you want the window seat again?" he asked.
When they returned, Tezuka asked Fuji about the trip. "Did you not take any pictures at all, Fuji?" He hadn't seen Fuji lift his camera once.
Fuji smiled. "In a month, Tezuka. It'll take that long to develop the pictures myself, and I'd like to do them personally."
Though he had seen Fuji a few more times since the trip, there had been no reason to visit Fuji's rooms, so when Tezuka was invited over after the month was up, he wasn't prepared for the intense red-orange-gold that greeted him when Fuji opened the door and stepped back. Fuji had not left many patches of wall uncovered. To the left were pictures of the scenery they passed on the train; before them, the beauty of the Yamadera mountain trail. To the right Tezuka could see the train on the platform while the mountain loomed in the distance.
He stepped forward, speechless, and touched the prints. They were life-sized, and yet still so sharp and so clear standing here was almost like being on the train, on the mountain, on the platform again. The only difference was this time, instead of a chill wind biting his skin, Tezuka felt warmth spreading through his core.
Tezuka felt Fuji's hand slip into his own, and he looked down into a familiar smile.
"But you didn't take any pictures," Tezuka said, unable to understand how Fuji could have captured majesty and grace, desolation and comfort, starkness and the detailed relief Tezuka saw in the pictures around him without Tezuka noticing anything.
"Saa," Fuji said, tilting his head. He intertwined his fingers with Tezuka's. "Merry Christmas, Tezuka."
Characters: Tezuka/Fuji
Wordcount/Rating: 1200+ words / G
Summary: Tezuka leads Fuji to Tohoku in search of something; Fuji leads Tezuka home to find it.
Author's Notes: Written for vierblith_tefu for christmas_cacti and first posted here on Dec 2, 2007. I hope everyone enjoys this. Four people used the same word ("vivid") and three different people used the exact same phrase ("vivid imagery") in their comments; this amazes me. ^_^;
Japan was beautiful when the seasons changed. Winter turning to spring caused the skies to brighten and clouds to whiten. The change from spring into summer was heralded first by a light dusting of white plum blossoms, but soon pink cherry blossoms colored the world. Then there were breathtaking displays of fireworks, and the too-bright brilliance of summer softened into the muted understatement of fall. Fall fading into winter brought torrents of rain, crisp clear skies, and mesmerizing sunsets.
Confined to the heart of the city by duty and schedules, the seasons all looked the same to Tezuka. That was why, when he saw golden yellows and glorious reds against a background of nondescript brown, he stopped in spite of himself and turned to look.
It was a large poster of the Tohoku region in the window of a travel agency's branch office (Shinkansen and hotel! Enjoy the beautiful fall scenery and relax amidst the colorful combination of seasons!). The focus of the poster was a bridge that spanned a valley full of maple trees. The sky was clear and light blue, the bridge grayish-white, and the surrounding trees and hills a profusion of green, red, yellow, and orange. As he looked at the proud, solitary bridge, the breadth of the hills, and the height of the skies above, Tezuka felt an inner tug.
It wasn't until the store assistant walked out with a sweet smile on her face and brochures in her hand that Tezuka realized he'd been standing there for some time, lost in thought, and that he'd missed his bus. He shook his head, apologized for wasting her time, and walked away.
He was late to his meeting with Fuji, but Fuji accepted his apology and explanation, tilting his head with a smile. Tezuka had never been late before; he didn't like breaking his record of punctuality for a reason like this. Fuji told him not to mind. It proves you appreciate beauty.
When Tezuka asked Fuji how anyone could not appreciate beauty, Fuji laughed.
They went to Tohoku the next autumn.
They passed many places on the Shinkansen. The green mountains of Fukushima were also colored yellow and red, gold and orange. Closer to the tracks, the scenery was a featureless blur as the train sped by, but in the distance Tezuka could see mountains; splashes of autumn colors against a backdrop of deep forest-green.
Fuji ordered some sandwiches and unadon. Tezuka nodded absently, looking out the window as the Shinkansen carried them further north, seeing everything and nothing.
In Sendai, they transferred to a local line. Fuji asked what was in Yamagata, but Tezuka didn't know.
Fuji nodded, smiled, and looked at the signs posted above the train doors. "Let's get off here," he suggested, pointing to a station.
Tezuka agreed without reading the name. Fuji wasn't the one responsible for their trip north, but Tezuka didn't feel very responsible at that moment. If there was something Fuji would like to see, Tezuka thought they should see it.
The target of Fuji's interest appeared to be a national park, green even at this time of year. They walked, following hiking trails. Tezuka looked at the moss covering the sides of the raised stone paths and the way the trees leaned over the river. He watched as water frothed white around boulders and rocks in its path. When they walked through a wooded area, the trees ramrod-straight and towering above them, Tezuka looked up to see the clear blue sky peeking through the canopy high above them.
He felt very small. What am I doing here?
It would be another hour to the station on foot, and Fuji looked tired. They stopped to rest, Fuji sitting on a convenient boulder by the path, Tezuka leaning against the nearest tree.
"Here," Fuji said.
Tezuka found a warm paper cup in his hands and smelled chocolate. He looked down at the warm beverage, and then at Fuji again.
"It's a little cold out here," Fuji said, pouring some for himself out of the little thermos he now held in his hands. He smiled at Tezuka and put the thermos back into his bag.
Fuji was right. Tezuka felt it now, the chill beginning to permeate through his jacket. He checked Fuji's clothes, relieved to find Fuji had also dressed warmly. Fuji's scarf looked a little disheveled, and without speaking, Tezuka reached out. He handed Fuji his cup, unwound Fuji's scarf, and then wound it back efficiently.
Fuji chuckled when Tezuka was done. "Thank you, Mother," he said, eyes twinkling at Tezuka as he returned the cup.
It was still warm to the touch. "You're the one who brought hot chocolate," Tezuka said, fingers closing around it. The warmth began to seep into his fingertips.
Inexplicably, he felt better now.
They arrived at Yamadera station ninety minutes later. Standing before the ticket gates, Fuji asked Tezuka if anything about the mountain they'd just hiked around had captured his interest.
Tezuka opened his mouth, found his mind a blank, and closed his mouth again with a vague answering sound.
A train departed. Another pulled in. Still they stood before the ticket gates while Fuji smiled at Tezuka and waited for an answer.
Tezuka looked away at the train beyond the gates. He had suggested this trip; he had invited Fuji to come with him. They had spent three hours on a train and a little over two hours hiking; yet there was nothing here for him, and Tezuka didn't understand why he had wanted to go north in the first place. He looked back at the mountain, seeing green and blue, red and white, orange and gold.
All he could think of was the Matterhorn; these mountains had not tugged at him, in the end.
He opened his mouth. Let's go back, he wanted to say. When he located Fuji, though, Fuji was already at the ticket counter.
Fuji turned to Tezuka and smiled, giving him a little wave. "Ne, Tezuka, do you want the window seat again?" he asked.
When they returned, Tezuka asked Fuji about the trip. "Did you not take any pictures at all, Fuji?" He hadn't seen Fuji lift his camera once.
Fuji smiled. "In a month, Tezuka. It'll take that long to develop the pictures myself, and I'd like to do them personally."
Though he had seen Fuji a few more times since the trip, there had been no reason to visit Fuji's rooms, so when Tezuka was invited over after the month was up, he wasn't prepared for the intense red-orange-gold that greeted him when Fuji opened the door and stepped back. Fuji had not left many patches of wall uncovered. To the left were pictures of the scenery they passed on the train; before them, the beauty of the Yamadera mountain trail. To the right Tezuka could see the train on the platform while the mountain loomed in the distance.
He stepped forward, speechless, and touched the prints. They were life-sized, and yet still so sharp and so clear standing here was almost like being on the train, on the mountain, on the platform again. The only difference was this time, instead of a chill wind biting his skin, Tezuka felt warmth spreading through his core.
Tezuka felt Fuji's hand slip into his own, and he looked down into a familiar smile.
"But you didn't take any pictures," Tezuka said, unable to understand how Fuji could have captured majesty and grace, desolation and comfort, starkness and the detailed relief Tezuka saw in the pictures around him without Tezuka noticing anything.
"Saa," Fuji said, tilting his head. He intertwined his fingers with Tezuka's. "Merry Christmas, Tezuka."