Happy B-Day!
Tennis practice went on smoothly, as far as Tezuka could judge from his position with his back leaned against the fence. On the court in front of him Eiji and Oishi were playing against Inui and Kaidou - the latter two had shown formidable improvement and actually proved to be a challenge for the Golden Pair.
Momoshirou and Echizen were on the second court and currently appeared to be fooling around rather than playing a serious match. Tezuka chose to ignore them for the time being - though if they hadn’t stopped the next time he looked over, there’d be laps to run.
The crowd around the central court left out an impressed “aww” at another one of Eiji’s acrobatic returns and the red head happily continued to supply his audience with spectacular moves. Tezuka didn’t particular mind flashy play styles - but this was supposed to be training, not a show.
For a second he closed his eyes, pushed up his glasses and made to reprimand - when a sudden yell tore through the air.
“Buchou! Watch out!”
His eyes snapped open, barely caught a tennis ball headed straight for his face at absurd velocity - he never heard the shocked gasp from Oishi or the stifled screams from some first-years. He reacted instantly, automatically raising the racket he’d loosely been holding in his left hand.
Tezuka deflected the ball professionally.
And that was when things went wrong.
He’d forgotten about Fuji who’d been silently standing beside him. The racket’s momentum was far too strong to be stopped - that violent shot had needed strength to be returned - and he barely caught a glimpse of wide, surprised blue eyes - but there was nothing he could do anymore.
Then the racket crashed against Fuji’s forehead and Tezuka’s heart stopped.
Frozen in shock he could only watch as Fuji fell against the fence and crumbled to the ground like a doll. He never heard Eiji shout or noticed the racket drop from his hand - those things could have happened in another universe. Disbelief rushed through his veins, suffocating his mind and damning him to watch helplessly.
There was only a light thud when Fuji’s body hit the ground. The scene burned itself into Tezuka’s mind - Fuji’s body motionless on the ground, small white hands a sharp contrast against the dark red of the tennis court, his face turned to the ground, hidden by strands of light brown hair - was there a brighter red on the ground?
Abruptly the world started moving again.
Tezuka dropped to his knees beside his friend, heard people shouting in the background and footsteps hurrying over, while his mind still was petrified at the idea that he himself had caused this.
He hadn’t meant to…
Carefully, with shaking fingers he reached out to brush the hair out of Fuji’s face, but drew back horrified when he touched liquid.
”Fuji!” Eiji exclaimed shocked and his out-reaching hand froze in mid air. Too scared to hurt his friend even further he pulled back, while Tezuka attempted to pull himself together.
He steeled his nerves and reached out once again, first combing the hair back and then he tilted Fuji’s face upwards as gentle as he could. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him at the sight of blood. Eiji stifled a gasp and Momoshirou had to look away.
The left side of Fuji’s face was covered in red - especially the area around his eye. As for the eye itself …
He hadn’t ….
Tezuka’s stomach churned. Suppressing the queasiness he searched Fuji’s face for the wound; desperate to find his worst fears unfounded. Because, if his racket had truly hit Fuji’s eye, if this was what all the blood stemmed from, then he’d …
He’d ….
A bottomless abyss opened under his feet and a sudden onset of dizziness attempted to drag him into this dark oblivion. But then Ryuuzaki Sumire’s commanding voice cut through the haze.
“Tezuka, can you please tilt his head up a little? I need to see the wound.”
He’d never even noticed her arrival. Ryuuzaki was kneeling beside him, a white handkerchief in hand and looked astonishingly calm. Behind her the rest of the tennis club lingered in various states of distress.
In the back of his mind he wondered if Oishi and some others looked so horrified because they’d seen everything happen - but he pushed the thought back for the moment and gently tilted Fuji’s head up.
Ryuuzaki carefully started wiping the blood away, or at least that was what Tezuka thought until she sat back with a relieved sigh and proclaimed: “The eye’s fine. It’s only minor cut over the eyebrow - the school nurse should be able to take care of that.”
A breath Tezuka had not known he’d been holding left him and tension drained from his body. Ryuuzaki gave him a calculating look, before turning to the lingering crowd that had been watching in morbid fascination.
“Oi, 30 laps all of you! NOW!”
The first and second years complied without a protest, while Eiji stepped forward and made to protest, but Tezuka was distracted when he noted Fuji stirring. Long lashes fluttered and a soft sigh escaped Fuji’s lips. Tezuka instinctively drew the small body a little closer to himself - only to shudder at finding fresh blood trickling from the cut.
Unconsciously he swallowed and softly called out.
“Fuji?”
He was rewarded with an incomprehensible mutter. Ryuuzaki, who’d just succeeded at chasing Eiji away, looked over surprised.
“Are you conscious, Fuji-kun?” she asked with a frown. “Try to keep your left eye closed for now.”
Fuji responded with a slight nod.
Then she turned to Tezuka. “You should take him to the nurse. Think you’ll manage?”
Tezuka pressed his lips together and nodded determinedly. His ashen face did not reassure the coach, however he’d probably be even less capable of overseeing practice at the moment.
Thus he bent down, scooped Fuji up and left the courts. The other regular proved to be lighter than expected, almost too light, Tezuka thought, before a surprised “Eh? What are you doing?” form Fuji cut through his thoughts.
“Taking you to the infirmary.” Tezuka replied as he headed straight for the school building. He ignored the stares from other students with ease - holding the renewed onslaught of guilt at bay was far more difficult.
“Yes, but could you put me down, please?” Fuji asked, obviously feeling awkward at being carried bridal style.
Tezuka only tightened his grip and frowned. “You might injure yourself further.”
For a moment Fuji’s lips turned downward, though Tezuka was too caught up in convincing himself that this had truly been an accident, and that, even if he couldn’t deny that he’d been careless, wouldn’t forever damage their friendship - too caught up in this web of unsettling feelings and concerns to really notice.
He actually knew quite well that Fuji had never taken well to being patronized, mothered or having decisions made for him by another - it had taken Tezuka quite a while to understand that while Fuji appeared to comply with rules and orders easily, he did not do that because it were rules or orders - but because he deemed following them appropriate.
Thus, Tezuka’s refusal to set Fuji down did not make the other happy.
“Please, Tezuka.” Fuji said, sounding almost exasperated, “I can walk on my own very well.”
Tezuka protested silently; the amount of blood on Fuji’s pale skin still send chills down his spine and on another level he doubted whether the school nurse was truly qualified to take care of an injury like this. Maybe he should have insisted on calling an ambulance…
“Tezuka.” Fuji interrupted, “In case you didn’t notice, you hit my face not my…”
Tezuka flinched.
Fuji bit his lip and never finished the sentence, but the deed was done and the ugly monster called guilt reared its head once again within Tezuka’s chest. He could still see the surprise in Fuji’s eyes that split second before the racket connected with his head.
There hadn’t even been enough time for that look to change into shock or betrayal - and the latter was what Tezuka felt he had committed. He hadn’t exactly let his guard down, no, much worse - he’d completely forgotten about Fuji’s presence then.
It had been his fault. But it was Fuji who’d almost lost an eye.
And it had been a close call. Thinking about the “what-if” made him unable to voice the apology he desperately wanted to relate - even though the words seemed too shallow and insufficient.
“This…” Fuji uttered and made a vague gesture with his right hand “Well, you shouldn’t worry so much about it. It’s just a scratch - you know head wounds bleed a lot, even if they’re small.”
Tezuka stopped himself from disagreeing, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
Fuji smiled. “You don’t need to be. I was daydreaming and didn’t hear Momo’s warning. So it’s pretty much my own fault actually.”
“But I …” Tezuka protested in disbelief, astonished at Fuji’s take on things. Especially since he’d been so sure it had all been his doing - so how could Fuji possibly blame himself?
“No buts.” Fuji sheepishly replied. “Have a little more faith in my reactions. Usually I’m quite capable of dodging incoming objects, be they tennis balls, rackets or whatever - today I was just out of it.”
Tezuka fell silent. Even if Fuji had been daydreaming, it had still been him to swing the racket. Though, then again, he’d be offending Fuji’s skills if he insisted on his version of things. Both options were rather unattractive, and luckily Fuji appeared to magically have read his thoughts. And found a solution.
“Well, if you insist on being at fault - how about you treat me to ice cream next Sunday?”
And that was how Tezuka and Fuji’s first date came to happen.
Random: I really hope to get some more stuff done soon - but life's currently trying its best to eat up all my spare time.