End of Summer Posting!
Well, as I have been sinfully neglectful of this journal over the past, say, five or six months, I will post two stories at once! One has been posted on my FFN account for ages, but I forgot to put it here, even after I did the whole "preview of a fic I'm working on" schtick, and the other is a short drabble.
It's good to be back!
Title: Distance
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some boys kissing and sexual innuendo
Pairing: Tezu/Fuji
Chapter 1
“Kunimitsu?”
Tezuka looked up from his book.
“Come in.”
His mother’s smile greeted him as she silently stepped into his room.
“A friend is here to see you, Kunimitsu.”
Tezuka was surprised. He hadn’t been expecting anyone.
“It’s Syuusuke-kun.”
Tezuka raised an eyebrow. What could Fuji want?
◄♦►
Somehow, he wasn’t too surprised to find himself facing his friend across a tennis court less than an hour later. Their match in their last year of junior high had brought Fuji into his element. He still showed sadistic glee in toying with his opponents, especially hotheads who took one look and underestimated him. Whenever that happened, the people who knew him always stepped back and watched. He always had so much fun, and it was really amazing - if a trifle painful - to watch. Kikumaru swore that he’d even seen Tezuka smiling as Fuji beat another mouthy upstart into the ground. He certainly wasn’t smiling now though. Playing Fuji required all of his concentration. They were fairly evenly matched, and knew each others’ playing styles almost as well as their own. They both enjoyed trying new moves and techniques to throw the other off, but the advantage never lasted long. It was this intimate knowledge of each other that let Tezuka know that something was off. He was doing better than when they had first started their game, but Fuji wasn’t playing right today.
He lanced the ball right between Fuji’s legs. Game and set, Tezuka, seven games to five. He lowered his racket and moved to the bench. Sitting for a moment, he decided to ask.
“I take it that helped?” he asked, hearing Fuji coming up behind him.
Fuji smiled ruefully at Tezuka’s back. Nothing got past his closest friend. As their last year of high school waned, Fuji found himself facing a wall of question marks. When the uncertainty overwhelmed him, just seeing his friend’s face steadied him. He remembered his personal revelation back in their second year of junior high, the feeling that he could climb to any height, so long as he was with Tezuka.
“Fuji?”
Blue eyes met hazel, and Fuji’s face wrinkled into a grin.
“Aah. Yes, it helped. Arigatou, buchou.”
Tezuka raised an eyebrow at that. The seniors had all retired after nationals, and he’d officially passed his title down to Momoshiro.
Fuji shrugged, looking guileless.
“Old habits die hard. Gomen, Tezuka.”
Tezuka wasn’t fooled and Fuji gave up.
“Saa, Tezuka, I’m starving. You won so it’s your treat. What do you feel like?”
It was one of Fuji’s favorite traditions. He wasn’t’ sure when it had started, but at some point their weekly match had extended to include their own little wager, the winner buying dinner for the loser. For at least two years, unless they had other plans with family, or friends, or teammates, or there was too much studying to do, they had played a game each Sunday afternoon, although their games had ebbed as their last year ended, and all their time was taken up with applications and entrance exams.
Tezuka’s lips curved upward in the hint of a smile. He had missed their games, missed the feeling of playing with every ounce of his skill and still not having a guaranteed victory, missed the thrill and the challenge, and the way Fuji’s eyes would flash at him across the net, and later glint with laughter at him across the dinner table.
Feeling gracious, Tezuka told Fuji to choose. Smiling, Fuji spun his racket. He pointed in the direction the handle had landed.
“Let’s see if there’s anything that way.”
Fuji always liked to try somewhere new. He had come up with all sorts of odd ways to choose a restaurant over the years. Tezuka usually chose restaurants that they both knew and liked (although a few times, when the games had been particularly harrowing, he had chosen the little restaurant just down the street from the courts, the one where you could get the spiciest food in the whole Kantou district. It always made Fuji’s smile wider, even though he shot him questioning looks between the smiles, knowing that Tezuka didn’t really like spicy food), and so between the two of them, they always had a nice blend of old favorites and new surprises.
They found a tiny ramen stand several blocks down. Carrying their bowls, they moved further down the street to a tiny “park” (really just a group of benches and tables in the shadow of a few trees) to eat. Fuji’s smile widened as he took his first bite. Another success.
“It’s good, ne, Tezuka?”
Tezuka nodded, the slurp of his stubborn noodles a rather humorous contrast to the serious look on his face.
The best part of the afternoon, Fuji knew, was always after they had gotten started on their dinner. Once they had both replenished a little energy from their exhausting match and come down from the peak of their adrenaline rush, Tezuka was usually more than willing to relax, catching up on how things had been going in both their lives. It had been a while since he and Fuji had had a chance to talk. With a little coaxing, Fuji got him talking about his trip. Fuji’s smile was warm as Tezuka described the school and the facilities, telling him of tall snow-covered mountains and dark pine trees, and about the trainer he’d spoken with. Someone who didn’t know Tezuka might have thought that he was unimpressed, but Fuji had worked hard to learn how to see the truth behind that serious face. The bright light in Tezuka’s eyes was more than obvious.
“You really like it there,” he said, making Tezuka stop and meet his eyes. One corner of the taller boy’s mouth curved slightly and his eyes glowed as he nodded.
“It’s hard not to. You’d like it too, Fuji. It’s beautiful. The pictures don’t do it justice.”
Fuji’s eyes had opened wide for a fraction of an instant before his smile came back into place.
“Ahn? I wonder then, if my camera would do any better?”
Tezuka looked at him thoughtfully. He had seen many of Fuji’s photographs over the years.
“It might. You have an uncanny ability to capture things as they really are, Fuji.”
Fuji’s smile turned brilliant, and he thanked Tezuka sincerely. A compliment from Tezuka Kunimitsu was a rare gift indeed, made all the more precious by its scarcity.
They walked slowly back to the street courts, lights beginning to glow as the sun faded. At the corner where their paths would split, Tezuka stopped Fuji.
“Have you chosen a school yet, Fuji?” he asked. “I know you’ve been getting offers from several universities.”
Fuji just smiled at him.
“Iie, I’m still thinking. It can be hard to choose, ne, Tezuka?”
Turning, he waved as he walked away.
“Saa, it’s getting late. Ja ne, Tezuka!”
More than a little surprised, Tezuka watched as Fuji walked away. That was odd. Fuji never left first. He must have forgotten something he had to do.
◄♦►
Fuji Yuuta heard the door shut with a gentle click. Turning away from his work at the kitchen table he called out, “Aniki? Is that you?”
Syuusuke gave him a gentle smile, coming around the corner.
“Yumiko-nee-san and kaa-san went out. Did you have dinner? We ate already,” Yuuta said, “But there are left-over’s in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Yuuta,” Fuji smiled, “But I grabbed a bite with Tezuka after our match.”
Yuuta raised an eyebrow and asked, “Who paid?”
Fuji chuckled.
“Tezuka. Seven to five.”
That made Yuuta look up.
“Seven-five? Aniki, you haven’t lost before your eighth game since Jr. High. What’s up?”
Only someone who knew Fuji as well as his brother - or Tezuka - would have seen the mask come up.
“Nothing’s ‘up’, Yuuta-kun, I just must’ve had an off day.”
Yuuta winced a little at the honorific, but continued anyway.
“Then why did you bother to play at all if you weren’t going to be serious? Tezuka’s not one of the small-fry you can toy with.”
Fuji’s mask flickered out, and his eyes flashed until he saw the look on his brother’s face. Yuuta was baiting him.
Yuuta let out the breath he’d been holding as his brother’s laughter cut through the tension. He winced though when Fuji moved behind his chair and ruffled his short hair. Draping his arms around his little brother’s shoulders, he rested his chin on his head.
“What happens when I get too old to catch your expressions and can’t tell when you’re being kind and when you’re turning into Mizuki?”
Deciding to momentarily ignore the slur on his manager, Yuuta shrugged, knowing that Syuusuke could feel it if not see it.
“I’ll probably be horribly maimed. But until then…”
Fuji’s chuckles vibrated against the top of his head.
“Don’t worry about me, Yuuta. I was just having a bad day. This whole graduation thing has me a bit rattled, if you must know. Of course, no one else can know that. It’d ruin my entire unflappable reputation. I would not be happy, otouto mine.”
Yuuta moved to shake his brother off.
“Yeah, right, aniki, who would I tell? I don’t even talk to those weird Seigaku kids you hang out with.”
Fuji chuckled at him again, dropping a kiss on top of spiky hair and earning an annoyed, “A-Ni-Ki!” as he turned and moved down the hall.
Shutting the door to his room, Fuji turned and flopped on his bed, letting his breath out with a whoosh. He smiled a bit, looking up at his colorful ceiling. That was from his “creative period.” It had taken surprisingly little convincing to get his parents to let him do whatever he wanted to his room. Wanting to keep his walls blank for his other artwork, Fuji decided that he would turn Michelangelo and paint the ceiling. The whole thing was a bright, deep blue, like the sky on a summer afternoon, with bright splotches of color sprinkling it like bits of shattered rainbow. It looked as though an entire classroom full of elementary students had been given paints and free reign. The thought made Fuji grin. There had been paint and little or no supervision, but only one elementary school kid. His walls were covered by his work, photos of friends and family along with some of his more professional photographs and a few pieces of art that he had either created or collected over the years. His shelves were lined with books, knick-knacks and cacti…and speaking of, it was about time for them to be watered again. Grabbing the watering can he kept next to the window, he walked across the hall to fill it in the bathroom sink.
His cacti didn’t need water very often, but he made sure to visit with each of them every day. Everyone knew plants grew better when you talked to them. Besides, Kiku-chan had been looking a little down in the dumps.
Fuji made a point of naming his plants. The day he’d gotten the cactus, with its tiny red-orange blossoms and cheery little spikes, Eiji had come home with him. When Fuji had mused aloud about what he should name it, he had bounced and said, “Nya, Fujiko, just think of who it reminds you of!”
Looking at the bouncing redhead, Fuji laughed and said, “It reminds me of you.”
Stopping, Eiji grimaced.
“A plant named Eiji? That’s weird, Fujiko.”
Chuckling at the memory, Fuji started the rounds, making sure the little orange blossomed cactus came last, so he could give it a little extra time and attention.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” he told them. “Really, I could get into any school I want. But,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I don’t want to be alone.”
He looked over to the pictures on the wall. One of his favorites, a photo from his third year at Seigaku, caught his eye. That had been a fun morning. Oishi had dragged them out at ye-gods in the morning, so they could work their legs off climbing a mountain just to watch the sunrise. Several of them had been reluctant, but it had ended up being great fun. Fuji had snapped photos of everyone, as well as a group photo which he was particularly fond of. They had all been so happy, so confident that they could do anything, that their captain could lead them anywhere…Until the following afternoon, when Tezuka had announced that he was leaving to have his shoulder treated in Germany. Tezuka left them. It wasn’t for very long, and they even got to go to Germany and visit him, but for Fuji…
Fuji shuddered. It had been a terrible time for him. He hadn’t realized exactly how much time he spent with Tezuka until then. He’d suddenly found himself at loose ends, still seething at Atobe, even though he knew that it had been Tezuka’s decision to keep playing in spite of the consequences.
He’d been so furious with Atobe afterward. How dare he injure their captain at such a critical time? How dare he injure his closest friend? What right did he have to hurt Tezuka? He’d been furious with Tezuka, too. It was one match! It wasn’t worth sacrificing himself. He could’ve ruined all of his chances at going pro after high school.
Fuji sighed. Shaking the last few droplets of water over Kiku-chan, he got to his feet to put away the watering can. He was amazed that three years later, one incident from Jr. High would still haunt him. He’d been so worried for Tezuka, worried that the injury to his shoulder was too great, that the treatment wouldn’t be enough to make him a “perfect Tezuka,” that he would have to give up his dreams of playing professionally. He would have been crushed, and Fuji didn’t think he could handle watching his friend in that kind of pain. He could still remember the intense elation he felt when he’d looked up and met those familiar hazel eyes outside the courts at Junior Senbatsu. He’d realized something a little unsettling that day. While tennis might have been Tezuka’s “raison d’être,” Tezuka was his. Fuji had pushed this revelation to the back of his mind and rushed to greet his buchou along with the rest of the team. Like all revelations, though, it never disappeared, but merely became a constant at the back of his mind. And now, with graduation looming closer, and the memory of the light in Tezuka’s eyes when he talked about his trip to Switzerland, that unassuming constant came to the forefront of Fuji’s mind, adding a vague sense of panic to his growing unrest.
Flopping back on his bed, Fuji picked up his growing pile of acceptance letters and scholarship offers. College wasn’t two months at a rehab center. If Tezuka chose that school, he’d be gone for years. Switzerland was on the other side of the world. Would he be able to handle the separation?
Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment. Other chapters coming (if my computer stops being weird!!!). --Song