A/N: I don't know how Fuji has cologne when he's technically quite poor. Pretend he got a free sample from the plane or something.

…

Clear

Chapter 1

…

"I quit."

Fuji Syusuke tore the gun out of his pocket, slapped it onto the desk, and met Yukimura's eyes. He saw the disbelief and the heavy denial in Yukimura's face. But he was done with all of it. He was done with the stealing, the thievery, the killing. His stomach weighed heavily by the pictures of the innocent people he had destroyed. Sure, he'd only been trying to survive, but still…

"I quit," Fuji repeated, firmly. He wiped a gloved hand over his forehead. Then, thoughtful, he ripped the glove off too.

"You're not serious." Yukimura's eyes danced under the hot sun. The other members of the group just kind of looked at them, half-interested, half-uncaring. "Where are you going to go? You don't even have any money, aside from the little we stole last week. And…" he shook his head, and grasped Fuji's arm tightly. "You can't go, Fuji."

"I can." Fuji sounded pained. "I love you Yukimura. You've been a friend that's as close as a brother. We've supported each other since childhood. But I can't do this anymore."

"Is that all I am?" Yukimura bitterly picked up Fuji's gun, wiping away a fleck of dust. "A close friend?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean…"

"Of course you don't." Yukimura's voice was sharp, like a dagger. "Leave. God knows where you'll end up."

It hurt – the words. But Fuji knew he deserved them. They had been together – stuck like glue – since they were young children. And now, without warning, Fuji had decided to leave. But he knew this was the right decision. He'd spent too long, stuck in the aching cycle of crime that he'd been brought up into.

Of course, Yukimura and him had just been two stumbling toddlers, lost from their parents at the time…

They'd been welcomed into the gang, taught things they thought they were supposed to know. Even as they grew older and realized that what they were doing was wrong, it had already become a part of them, a means of survival. Stealing bread, money – and shooting anyone who tried to stop them. It had been a way of life.

Yukimura took Fuji's gun, and let it drop into the garbage bin.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and his voice was full of sorrow.

Not anymore. Fuji shut his eyes. Never again.

"Yes." He turned on his heel, and gave Yukimura one last nod. "I'm sure."

…..

Using the little money he had left, Fuji booked a flight from America to Japan. He just wanted to free himself from the treachery he'd been a part of. He wanted to forget. He wanted to walk under cherry blossom trees, maybe meet a nice partner… and live a normal life.

The warm spring breeze of Japan greeted him as he stepped outside the airport. He saw families rushing to greet each other, hugging and squealing. He didn't have a family – no parents, no siblings. He honestly didn't even remember how he'd come on the earth. But he had himself, and he figured he could work with that.

First, Fuji mused to himself as he walked out into the parking lot, he would have to get a job. And some money.

Maybe if he worked as a cashier, and lived in a really cheap apartment…

Fuji mentally added up the costs.

He could probably manage a few months like that…

But…

Clothes?

Food?

Fuji gnawed on his lower lip. Oh, well. He would figure things out. He was usually pretty good at that.

"Ow!"

His attention zapped to a small boy in front of him, who had headfirst bumped into the rear end of a car in the parking lot.

Amused, Fuji watched the boy rub his forehead and swear profusely.

"Keep your head up," Fuji said lightly. "Or you'll end up in an accident one day."

The boy's head whipped toward Fuji. "What?" he glared, daringly.

Oops…why was he provoking strangers, now? Still, Fuji had this irresistible urge to match the sour words with his own. "You walked straight into the back of a car," he said. "You should pay better attention to your surroundings."

"Who are you?" The boy continued to glower.

Fuji took this moment to give the kid an once-over. An over-sized sweater and shorts covered a lean, athletic body. Thick, unruly dark hair poked out from under a Fila cap. He was small, probably a couple years younger than Fuji. But out of all of that… Fuji couldn't help but notice his eyes. Unfocused, he thought, but a gorgeous colour.

Was gold even a possible eye colour? Maybe a different shade of hazel…no, they were definitely gold.

"Are you still there?" the boy snapped.

"Am I still…" Fuji trailed off, and shifted his bag. "Well, yes. But…"

"So, who are you?"

Ignoring the previously strange question, Fuji allowed himself to smile fully. Breaking out of the gang was definitely a good thing. No one here knew him. Nobody knew he was a killer, a thief. Here, he was new, and fresh, and…

"I'm Fuji Syusuke," he beamed. "And you?"

The boy tugged his cap down. "Echizen Ryoma."

So he had a name now. Echizen Ryoma. Fuji had an urge to snap a picture of him, but remembered he didn't have a camera. He'd thrown his stolen one. He'd thrown away everything he'd stolen, aside from the money he'd needed to get to Japan. In fact, Fuji was pretty sure he had no money right now. He checked his pockets.

Oh. A quarter and two dimes. Not bad.

"Aren't you a little young to be by yourself in an airport parking lot?" Fuji asked.

Ryoma lifted his chin. "My dad's just going to the bathroom inside. He said to wait here."

Fuji didn't say anything, however. He was thrown off by the way Ryoma acted. He never directly looked at Fuji. His gaze was always off, a few spaces behind or beside him. They never made eye contact, despite that he seemed like a confident guy. Fuji studied him, trying to meet his eyes, wondering if… – Are you still there? – the words flashed, and Fuji sucked in his breath.

Was the kid…

He bumped into the car. Is he…

"Are you blind?" Fuji said softly, shocked.

Ryoma's back stiffened like a plank of wood. "Isn't it obvious?"

It was obvious, now that Fuji knew. He never even seemed to look where he was looking. And yet, Fuji still couldn't help the shock that threaded away at his heart. There he was, a perfectly innocent kid, blind at such a young age? Wasn't life hard without having his vision? Fuji swallowed, and stared at the colorful cars and trees.

He couldn't see any of this? Was he blind from birth? Or had there been an accident?

Questions milled his head. He knew of blind people. But no one so young. And it was odd, because Fuji couldn't help but think if it were him…

Here he was, complaining about his lack of money. And this boy would never be able to see a single strand of colour in his life.

"I'm sorry," Fuji said after a moment.

Ryoma scoffed, worn out sneaker digging into a pavement. "Don't pity me. It's really not that bad."

"It isn't?" Fuji felt oddly terrified. Not blood-running-cold, sweat-growing-on-palms terrified, but this kind of haunting, terrible ache terrified. Wasn't life horrible? Wasn't it awful to see nothing but darkness wherever he headed? Wasn't it unnerving to always need help? Fuji's mind whirled to his childhood.

If he'd had Ryoma's condition, he probably wouldn't have survived until now.

"….It's like if you've never ate meat before…"

Fuji caught the last strand of Ryoma's words. He forced a breath out. "Pardon?"

Ryoma looked annoyed. "If you've never ate meat, it's not hard to be a vegetarian, so it's not hard. If you already ate meat, and try to be one, than it's difficult."

"I don't see how that…"

Ryoma huffed. "So I've never seen anything in my life, so it's not that bad."

Oh. So he was blind from birth. That made Fuji even more upset. Had he never seen the beautiful stretch of blue that was the sky? Or the crack of gold light that flickered between bright green leaves? Maybe it seemed so awful to him because he was a photographer at heart. Not having his eyes…

"Are you still pitying?"

Fuji took a deep breath. "No." Yes, just a little. "I like photography. It just seems…"

"Impossible?" Ryoma cut in.

"Not impossible." Fuji fiddled with the strap of his sports bag.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Fuji stared out into the distance. This wasn't how he'd expected his new fresh life in Japan to start. He had to admit, he had gotten himself into the conversation. The boy was just so cute. Even now, the way he had his brow arched, one hand casually tucked into a pocket…

But blind…

"Anyway, why are you wearing men's cologne?" Ryoma said with a smirk.

Fuji coughed, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Men's cologne," Ryoma said.

Well, this was certainly getting interesting. "Because I'm a man." Fuji stopped. "No, a boy. A teenager, actually."

He watched Ryoma's eyes widen. Then, he started to snicker. "You're a guy?" he said. "I thought you were a girl."

For a moment, Fuji forgot he was blind. He felt his eyes narrow into slits. "I don't see how you made the connection."

"Your voice," Ryoma said. "I can't see you, remember? You sounded like a girl."

"Is that so?" Fuji said sharply.

"Yes." Ryoma nodded his head.

Okay, so now he was just annoyed. Fuji willed himself to stop the irritation in the back of his mind. The thing was, this wasn't him: The Fuji back in the gang was tough, cold, mysterious, and never showed emotion past an almost eerie smile. Despite his feminine features, he was known for his strength. It felt strange to be having a casual conversation.

He wasn't used to it. His smile had already slipped off into a frown.

"Oh. There's baka oyaji."

Fuji lifted his eyes to see a tan man dressed in monk clothes sauntering toward them. He had a cigarette lingering in his mouth, and stubble on his chin. He didn't really seem fit for a father, but Fuji supposed he didn't really have any right to think that. He'd smoked cigarettes too, before. Limited, of course, but he'd done it all the same.

"Hey, gaki." The older man ruffled Ryoma's hair too hard. "Get in the car, will you? It's right in front of you." The man gave Ryoma's shoulders a little nudge.

Ryoma elbowed his father in the side, and pointed to Fuji.

Nanjiroh met Fuji's eyes, and Fuji awkwardly shifted. What was he getting himself into? Wasn't he supposed to be finding some apartment to live in for the night?

"Heh, well." Nanjiroh waggled a brow at his son. "Who's this pretty girl, eh?"

Ryoma's eyes shot up. "You look like a girl too?"

Fuji felt anger simmer underneath his sewn smile. "You're mistaken, sir," he said to Ryoma's father. "I'm a boy, not a girl."

"Eh?!" Nanjiroh leapt back. "No way! And I was going to congratulate my son here for choosing a good one!"

Ryoma looked miffed. "Che. Stop being an embarrassment."

"I'm not an embarrassment…"

Fuji watched the exchange, feeling well out of place. Maybe he should leave now. He didn't even know this Ryoma kid. But, it was an almost strange feeling, that despite that Ryoma was blind, when he spoke with him, he didn't seem blind at all. He got embarrassed, he got annoyed, he huffed, he teased, he scowled – he was a totally normal kid.

"So, what's your name?" Nanjiroh asked. "Although I'll be callin' you pretty boy."

"Oyaji…" Ryoma growled. "Go in the car."

"Oi, don't boss your beloved dad around like that, got it?"

"Yadda."

Nanjiroh grumbled. "The sass…" He lifted his brow. "So, name?"

"Fuji," Fuji said. "Fuji Syusuke."

"Alright, Fuji-san, you getting in?"

Fuji blinked, and hugged his backpack closer to his chest. "Getting in?"

Nanjiroh glanced from Fuji to Ryoma. "Don't you know each other?"

"Not really…" Fuji began.

Ryoma snorted. "He's a complete stranger."

Nanjiroh looked suspicious. "Hm. Because you just go around talking to complete strangers like you've know them before…" he leaned in onto his son, casting an arched brow in hopes of getting response. He did get one, although not very pleasant. Ryoma huffed, looked away, and practically spat, "We were just conversing. I don't even know him."

"It's true," Fuji said, but he couldn't help but think I want to know more.

Nanjiroh reluctantly abandoned the topic. He switched his gaze to Fuji as he popped open the trunk and shuffled through. "So, Fuji-san, you heading somewhere?"

Ryoma shifted impatiently. "Can we go now?" he almost snapped. Fuji could tell he just wanted to curl up in the car and sleep or something. Now that he thought about it, they'd probably come from a long plane trip, and the last thing they'd want to do was make small talk with a stranger.

"Eh, Fuji-san?" Nanjiroh glanced up.

But he was obliged to answer, right? Fuji straightened up, and smiled. "Not particularly. I just decided to get up and move to Japan. I'm not exactly sure where I'm heading."

Nanjiroh slowly stopped tinkering with the suitcase in the trunk. He stood up full height, and gave Fuji a once over. "You're sayin' you've got no place to go?"

"Not right now," Fuji dismissed. "I'll probably find an apartment to rent."

A light flickered in Nanjiroh's eyes. "Heh, boy. You play any tennis?"

Ryoma froze. "Oyaji," he hissed.

Fuji's heart jumped at the word. It was his favourite game, in his spare time. He hadn't got to play it much, but he had natural skill. "Yes," he nodded his head slowly.

Nanjiroh snapped his fingers. "Perfect! Alright, why don't you come along with us, huh? Spend a few nights? We can play a game, and you can give my brat some company."

Ryoma's voice drew to desperation, "No. He's a stranger!"

Fuji couldn't pay attention to him right now. His heart felt like it was being shovelled out of a deep hole. This was exactly what he needed. A place to stay. He could earn some money, or at least find a job and do some research for an apartment. And he'd get to know this – his eyes flicked to Ryoma's scowling face – this blind boy better. And he'd get to play tennis –

"Okay," Fuji beamed. "If it's not a problem then-"

"Alright!" Nanjiroh hooted. "It's settled then. Hop in, Fuji Syusuke."

Ryoma groaned. "You're serious?" he said, but didn't complain any further.

And as Fuji followed them into the car, Fuji couldn't help but feel a stir of change in the air. A compelling wind that tore apart his past and welcomed his new present.

It seemed that his luck was finally turning up.