Spring (PG-13, Tezuka/Fuji)
© 2008 Gold
Title: Spring
Author: Gold, sometimes known as Alsepang / AlseGold
Pairings: Tezuka/Fuji.
Rating: PG-13, for gay pairings.
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-sama or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of Prince of Tennis . It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-sama or aforesaid entities.
Summary: It is spring. Tezuka's grandfather walks in the garden and talks to his grandson, Kunimitsu, who has just admitted to his family that his significant other is another male.
Notes: Meant to be the final instalment in a five-parter, which never got completed. I just had to mark Fuji Syuusuke's birthday in some way. So this is released in honour of Fuji Syuusuke's birthday, which comes only once every four years and therefore should be celebrated decadently with great pomp and abandon!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FUJI SYUUSUKE!
The water falls peacefully in the guise of the small man-made waterfall as the tick-tock of the bamboo dipper clicking rhythmically against the wet stones tells the time in passing. A cricket or two chirps lazily, a welcoming note to the brand-new spring.
The tall young man who walks by the side of his grandfather is a carbon copy of the latter, as the old man has been some fifty years hence. They have the same perfect, classic profile: the high, broad forehead denoting wisdom and intelligence; the eyes, with their piercing gaze; the straight, fine nose; the handsome mouth and chin; the strong, confident jaw line that tapers sharply off to the side, further defining the classical lines of the face. In the younger man, the high forehead is relieved by the luxuriant hair that scatters in almost stylish disarray across it, adding to his almost breathtaking looks; the old man, with his receding hairline, does not have that advantage, but he is a fine, handsome old man nonetheless.
They stop by the small man-made waterfall, and the old man stands looking down into the water as his grandson waits patiently by his side.
The old man pokes the soft ground with his cane—it is spring, but the weather is cool, and his rheumatism is beginning to act up—and clears his throat abruptly. "Your father will come round to it soon. Your mother will convince him."
The grandson's head sinks a little lower. "Yes, grandfather." A brief pause, then—"Thank you, grandfather."
The old man nods once, slowly. "That young man is a good man. Take care of him."
The grandson takes a deep breath. "Yes, grandfather."
Another pause.
"Do not let him be lonely. If someone is special to you, you must never let them think that you do not care." The grandfather turns sharply and looks up at his tall, tall grandson—now so tall that the grandfather must raise his eyes perhaps another inch or so before he can look into the eyes of his son's son. "If you let him go, you will regret it for eternity."
The grandson blinks, just once. But then he nods his head strongly. "I will never let him go."
"Wrong, Kunimitsu." The walking cane thumps the ground. "He is free to go if he wishes. But you must never be the reason why he leaves. Do not be careless!"
The grandson's eyes widen very slightly. "Grandfather—I understand. Thank you."
The old man nods. "Good. I think that you do understand." He turns to look back at the little, rippling waterfall. "Is he here yet?"
The grandson turns to look behind him. "Yes—"
He is another young man, walking up to the old man and his grandson. He is perhaps a whole head shorter than the first young man, with a fine-boned face and a wide smile, and eyes as blue as an Italian sky in summer. The old man nods sternly as the second young man bows respectfully to him in a morning greeting. The old man's grandson then steps away from the old man, and stands quietly next to the second young man. Together, the two young men bow. The old man nods again. Then he clears his throat.
"Come back often."
"We will, grandfather," the grandson answers immediately.
His companion says with a smile: "I will make sure that Kunimitsu comes back often."
The old man frowns. "You will both come back often."
The grandson nods his head; the shorter young man by his side catches his breath, his face lighting up gratefully.
The old grandfather turns abruptly and walks away, leaving them both to stand together. As he moves away, out of earshot, his grandson unobtrusively but firmly takes the hand of the other young man, and is rewarded by the tight clasp of slim, strong fingers.
In the distance, the old man walking back to the house thinks of the two people behind; his grandson and the youth with him. Their chosen path is long and hard. Already, they have walked some years on their road, hand in hand. Who knows how many more years of burden they must bear before them? They have to be strong, very strong.
The old man raises his head and looks to the sky. And as long as he is alive, he promises the sky above him, he will also be strong for them.