(Prompt for Thirty Tears community on livejournal.)
Revised August 15.
All disclaimers apply. Konomi Takeshi owns Prince of Tennis.
Oh, and please do review. The really make authors happy, you know.
Their First Year
The first day Fuji met Tezuka, his eyes blinked for a minute, opening and revealing stunning blue eyes.
Tezuka was an interesting person, especially with the fact that the decision to join the tennis club was immediate. One minute, he'd seen Tezuka at opening ceremonies for school. His heart skipped a beat, strangely. A week later, Tezuka was already well known in the tennis club. Fuji joined a while later with the rest of the freshmen.
The school bell chimed, and he paused, looking upon the tennis courts. Tezuka was struggling to finish the duties the older students had him do before running off to class to probably receive a scolding from his teacher. Things were always like that; Tezuka would get himself in trouble with the older students and end up being the only one to clean up.
The other first year students ran off quickly before the cross students took their anger over Tezuka out on somebody else. Fuji was the only one not to scurry, for now.
Fuji was… 'As a younger student should be.' In his actions, he was, in his thoughts, he wasn't. Fuji disliked the older students for scolding Tezuka so much, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He was only twelve years old, a little, tiny first year. He was even smaller than Tezuka. There wasn't much of a way that he could stand up to the older students. Holding his racket, he watched as Tezuka finished.
Tezuka wasn't at school the next day.
Fuji's eyes searched the courts for a minute, expecting to see Tezuka's resonating figure, there. The image that Fuji had of Tezuka there, either playing a match or cleaning the courts, had been so clearly burned into his mind that he really wasn't able to see one without the other.
As a young boy, he couldn't really understand what such a thing meant.
Tezuka was a strange boy, but Fuji admired him, in ways. He admired him for being able to show his strength like that, whereas Fuji chose to hide it behind gentle, friendly smiles and quiet gestures. None of the older students really thought of him; he was a normal first year like everyone else, perhaps a little more delicate.They saw little of his true self, but they wouldn't have known that. To them, Fuji was soft-spoken and slightly feminine, though a friendly presence in the club.
He was nothing more, nothing less; he was no threat to the 'order' like Tezuka was.
Only Tezuka, with his piercing eyes, seemed to be able to see through that.
It wasn't just intuition; Tezuka knew it. He'd caught Fuji one day, after practice, hitting a tennis ball against a small span of wall only a few days later. His moves flowed gracefully, flawlessly. Fuji executed a perfect backhand, spun to the side, and caught the ball in his left hand. Slowly, his features lowered slightly. His hand, which had been holding the tennis racket at chin-level, lowered back to his side. Fuji's eyes traced smoothly across the air; Tezuka was watching intently. Fuji hadn't even noticed that the other boy had been standing there.
"Tezuka-kun, is there something you want?"He smiled softly. If the sunlight wasn't casting on a glare across Tezuka's glasses, he perhaps could've seen the ever so small glint of emotion in his eyes, for just the briefest of moments. Tezuka shook his head and turned his back to him.
"Walk home with me," He offered, his voice giving away none of his thoughts.
Fuji's smile grew across his face. He walked over to Tezuka, who didn't flinch as he came closer and closer. However, he didn't seem to be able to keep his gaze on Fuji for very long, and he averted his strong, emotionless eyes. Fuji paused hesitantly.
The next week, Tezuka was once again in trouble with the older students… It wasn't so much Yamato-buchou, who had astounding patience and made a very good captain. It was the other second years and third years that posed a problem. Tezuka was straightforward, and it created problems. He didn't find reason to blatantly hide his abilities like Fuji did. Fuji preferred that people didn't know; perhaps he felt like he would be able to take advantage of people's false judgments one day if he acted as such at the time. Maybe he was right, even.
Fuji watched as Tezuka spoke quietly with Yamato-buchou; the other older students stood around them, negotiating and giving the first year dirty looks whenever Yamato-buchou wasn't looking.
The group dispersed. Tezuka took a broom and began sweeping the dust off the first court. Fuji joined him silently, and went to retrieve a few tennis balls that were off by the fence. Tezuka's eyes were burning holes into the back of his head, even with as cool and calm as they were.
"You shouldn't be here. They'll scold you, too." Fuji seemed to hear him, but he paused, and that pause was carefree.
"Tezuka-kun shouldn't have to work alone all the time." Seeming to notice that Fuji wasn't going to leave so quickly, he gave a firm nod and went back to his work, though his eyes were always averted from Fuji. There was a sudden twinge in his heart. He paused for a minute, and then looked over to Tezuka. Still, firmly, he was keeping his eyes averted. Something about that bothered Fuji. He wanted to scream at him that he wasn't being polite; that the least he could do was look at him. After all, Fuji didn't have to be the one helping with this.
"Tezuka?" His voice was rather softer, but there was nothing that seemed to beyond normal, masked Fuji. The boy that Fuji spoke of didn't even pause at what he said.
"Yes?"
Fuji looked over at Tezuka once, and for a moment his eyes were open. Not even the boy with glasses noticed. He paused lightly. For a moment, Tezuka's eyes turned calmly over to him, expectantly. Within their cool depths, there was no warmth. There was no sort of emotion at all.
The words didn't come out. His heart wept on the inside.