[One-shot] Survivors (Prince of Tennis)
Title: Survivors
Characters: Tezuka, Sanada, mention of Fuji and Yukimura.
Words/Rating: 650+ words / G
Summary: Those left behind will remember.
Beta(s): atama_ga_itai Oh how I've missed you. *hugs*
Author's Notes: [Edited.] Samurai AU prompted by this picture by marourin, and therefore dedicated to her.
The first thing he saw, he had not expected to see.
Tezuka blinked, freezing, left hand involuntarily moving a split second before his right remembered. By the time his fingers brushed the grip of his sword, however, whatever it was had vanished from sight.
He allowed his right arm to drop again, angry with himself over his carelessness. He thought he'd trained himself to react instinctively with his right by now, but there was no way one could mistake what had just happened. If he had been on the battlefield, that moment's thoughtless hesitation might have cost him his life.
Still, he was certain he had distinctly looked into blue eyes.
The evening wind brought a chilling mist that crept into his bones, still and heavy with the promise of moisture that bit into his skin and left it cold and damp, bringing him sharply back into the present with a shiver. Stepping out into the walkway, he noiselessly slid the door shut behind him before walking towards the training room.
***
"I saw you."
There was only the slightest pause in Tezuka's pace, evening out again the next instant. He turned his head slightly to include Sanada in his field of vision. "Excuse me?"
"I said, I saw you," Sanada said, looking straight ahead as he kept abreast, footfalls resuming their rhythmic unison with Tezuka's. "Last evening."
Caught in a moment of weakness twice over. Tezuka's back stiffened, returning his gaze ahead as his pacing became more deliberate. "And?"
Sanada snorted. "Peace is no excuse to relax one's vigilance."
It sounded accusatory. Tezuka imagined a condescending smirk on Sanada's face. Don't get careless. His jaw tightened, but he made no response.
***
Later that night, Sanada spoke again. "What did you see?"
It only took Tezuka a moment to connect the question with Sanada's comments of the morning. "Nothing," he answered, lightly drawing the soft cloth across the gleaming blade in his hands.
They sat in silence, punctuated by the occasional sounds of cloth brushing steel. Tezuka listened to the soft swish-swish as Sanada shook out his cleaning cloth, and then did the same himself. He focused on the sword, polishing lightly, his fingers confirming his blade's keenness with the assurance of familiarity.
"What do you see on mornings so gray, Tezuka? His ghost?"
Tezuka turned, surprised, and met Sanada's eyes. Sanada looked away, head dipping over his own sword, and his hair fell forward to obscure his eyes from Tezuka. Sanada's blade gleamed and flashed, reflecting the light of the lamp intermittently as Sanada's fingers stroked the steel.
Tezuka folded and put down the cloth he had been holding. "Do you see Yukimura's?" he asked calmly, giving his blade a final glance.
Sanada's head lifted, eyes narrowed and sharp. "No," he said curtly.
"I thought as much," Tezuka said. He stood, sheathed his sword, and left the room.
"Tezuka," he heard Sanada say, but Tezuka shut the door before the other could say any more.
***
"Stop seeing what isn't there."
Tezuka turned to see Sanada standing beside him holding a red umbrella. In Sanada's hand was another, this one pale white. Yukimura's.
"Sanada," Tezuka said, eyeing the umbrella and then Sanada again, not sure what was expected here. What did Sanada want him to do? It wasn't as if Yukimura was coming back; had he forgotten?
Sanada made an impatient sound. "Have the sense to stay dry," he said, and Tezuka realised Sanada was offering it to him.
The rain began to fall in earnest as Tezuka accepted the umbrella with a wordless nod of thanks. Sanada turned, took a step as if to leave, and then paused. "Five years, Tezuka. Fifty more before we forget."
Turning his back to Sanada, Tezuka reached under the white paper, opening the waterproofed canopy. "Aa."
I've missed you guys. T_T
Characters: Tezuka, Sanada, mention of Fuji and Yukimura.
Words/Rating: 650+ words / G
Summary: Those left behind will remember.
Beta(s): atama_ga_itai Oh how I've missed you. *hugs*
Author's Notes: [Edited.] Samurai AU prompted by this picture by marourin, and therefore dedicated to her.
The first thing he saw, he had not expected to see.
Tezuka blinked, freezing, left hand involuntarily moving a split second before his right remembered. By the time his fingers brushed the grip of his sword, however, whatever it was had vanished from sight.
He allowed his right arm to drop again, angry with himself over his carelessness. He thought he'd trained himself to react instinctively with his right by now, but there was no way one could mistake what had just happened. If he had been on the battlefield, that moment's thoughtless hesitation might have cost him his life.
Still, he was certain he had distinctly looked into blue eyes.
The evening wind brought a chilling mist that crept into his bones, still and heavy with the promise of moisture that bit into his skin and left it cold and damp, bringing him sharply back into the present with a shiver. Stepping out into the walkway, he noiselessly slid the door shut behind him before walking towards the training room.
***
"I saw you."
There was only the slightest pause in Tezuka's pace, evening out again the next instant. He turned his head slightly to include Sanada in his field of vision. "Excuse me?"
"I said, I saw you," Sanada said, looking straight ahead as he kept abreast, footfalls resuming their rhythmic unison with Tezuka's. "Last evening."
Caught in a moment of weakness twice over. Tezuka's back stiffened, returning his gaze ahead as his pacing became more deliberate. "And?"
Sanada snorted. "Peace is no excuse to relax one's vigilance."
It sounded accusatory. Tezuka imagined a condescending smirk on Sanada's face. Don't get careless. His jaw tightened, but he made no response.
***
Later that night, Sanada spoke again. "What did you see?"
It only took Tezuka a moment to connect the question with Sanada's comments of the morning. "Nothing," he answered, lightly drawing the soft cloth across the gleaming blade in his hands.
They sat in silence, punctuated by the occasional sounds of cloth brushing steel. Tezuka listened to the soft swish-swish as Sanada shook out his cleaning cloth, and then did the same himself. He focused on the sword, polishing lightly, his fingers confirming his blade's keenness with the assurance of familiarity.
"What do you see on mornings so gray, Tezuka? His ghost?"
Tezuka turned, surprised, and met Sanada's eyes. Sanada looked away, head dipping over his own sword, and his hair fell forward to obscure his eyes from Tezuka. Sanada's blade gleamed and flashed, reflecting the light of the lamp intermittently as Sanada's fingers stroked the steel.
Tezuka folded and put down the cloth he had been holding. "Do you see Yukimura's?" he asked calmly, giving his blade a final glance.
Sanada's head lifted, eyes narrowed and sharp. "No," he said curtly.
"I thought as much," Tezuka said. He stood, sheathed his sword, and left the room.
"Tezuka," he heard Sanada say, but Tezuka shut the door before the other could say any more.
***
"Stop seeing what isn't there."
Tezuka turned to see Sanada standing beside him holding a red umbrella. In Sanada's hand was another, this one pale white. Yukimura's.
"Sanada," Tezuka said, eyeing the umbrella and then Sanada again, not sure what was expected here. What did Sanada want him to do? It wasn't as if Yukimura was coming back; had he forgotten?
Sanada made an impatient sound. "Have the sense to stay dry," he said, and Tezuka realised Sanada was offering it to him.
The rain began to fall in earnest as Tezuka accepted the umbrella with a wordless nod of thanks. Sanada turned, took a step as if to leave, and then paused. "Five years, Tezuka. Fifty more before we forget."
Turning his back to Sanada, Tezuka reached under the white paper, opening the waterproofed canopy. "Aa."
I've missed you guys. T_T