Hey, at least I'm making a little progress. I do have another chapter for my stories. It just needs some betaing. It's the busiest time of year, after all. So, I hope that you aren't upset that I'm rather unproductive.

I like how this came out, and considering the apparent lack of ANY ToFu activity lately, I had to contribute more to the category. I liked how it turned out because each little segment is five hundred words each, which is harder because in some I wanted to say more and in some I had to rant a little just to get five hundred words.

All disclaimers apply. Credit and copyright belongs to the manga-ka and the animation studio. I am only borrowing the characters, and I am not writing this story for any profit.

As always, reviews are appreciated. Good or bad. I like to know all opinions.

Five Hundred Paper Cranes

"Atobe, one day I want to go to the ocean,"

Slowly, Atobe turned his head up and nodded absently. Fuji was on his bed, lying on his back and staring at the digital camera that he held above his face. It was a gift from Atobe—a birthday present. Fuji seemed to like it. He always brought it with him and often occupied himself with staring at the pictures on the tiny digital screen. From his spot at his desk, Atobe couldn't see Fuji completely unless he turned around fully. So, he turned his eyes back to his work and murmured for a moment. "Why do you say that?" After all, Fuji went to the ocean many times in his life.

"I want you to come with."

Putting his fingers against his nose and flashing his most charming smile, Atobe nodded. "As you wish!" Atobe made a point of granting each of Fuji's wishes; as he always said, he would pamper Fuji and take care of him. Fuji didn't like to be taken care of and only asked simple things—going to the ocean together, for instance. After graduating junior high, score two years, they were in there last year of high school and learning to grow up fast. Time really passed—Fuji was taller and less feminine—only by a slight degree. His hair was slightly longer and tied up. Atobe was growing into a handsome man. The only thing that had not changed was Fuji's smile and Atobe's arrogance. Somehow, after Tezuka's departure they meshed well together. Fuji was able to forgive him. They figured that, after only two months of this friendship, they could be closer. Even when their tender moments were rare, he enjoyed how well his fingers twined with Fuji's.

Few knew that their relationship was so close, but it was whispered in schools across the region that the renowned Fuji Shuusuke and Atobe Keigo were dating, or, as the wildest rumors stated 'they were in a passionate affair'. They were not so passionate, but they were not passionless. Rather, they ran across a white, neutral line. "Next Saturday," Atobe said, "We don't have school. Do you have plans?"

Fuji sat up on the bed and laid his camera on his lap. "No. Why?" His hair fell slightly in his face, and Atobe chuckled as he worked on the translations for his Greek homework. Fuji was always so casual—he never knew if he did it just to please Atobe or if his slight absentmindedness was just a tribute of his character.

"We'll go to the ocean, then." Counting the spaces on his desk calendar, he marked the date with a pen while Fuji watched. He didn't need to turn his head to see Fuji's bright smile and nod as he went back to lie on the bed and stare at his pictures on the tiny digital screen. Atobe scribbled the last answer for his Greek homework in and closed his notebook.

They were happy.

Atobe never accounted his relationship to Fuji with luck—he considered it skill on his part that he was able to sway even a man—even the person who probably hated him for destroying his captain's arm and driving him out of Japan. It was skill that Fuji looked at him the way he did. Atobe was particularly skilled in the art of seduction and charm after his many fans. After all, one needed charm to withhold such a reputation. As Fuji stared out at the ocean, he smiled, his bare feet sliding languidly through the sand. He let his hair down—let it flutter in the wind, and Atobe absorbed all that beauty, the beauty that casually darted away when he tried to lay his fingers on it. "The ocean is nice, isn't it?" Fuji asked as he continued to walk, never coming too close to Atobe's side yet never running too far away from it. That was the way Fuji was—he was never dependent on anybody, but he never strayed to far from people.

In all truth, Atobe hated the ocean, but in order to remain with Fuji, one needed to be flexible.

"Hey, Atobe!" When Atobe turned his head, he heard an audible click, and Fuji's silvery laugh, and the smile fell from his face for a moment.

"Delete that, Fuji." Fuji laughed and darted past his hold not only once, but twice.

"If you want me to delete it, prove that you're faster than me!" Fuji had an embarrassing picture of him, and knowing his character, unless Atobe saw that he deleted it, he wouldn't hesitate to print it out and use it casually for blackmail. Naturally, anything threatening his reputation was enough to blackmail Atobe. Already, Fuji danced far away from him, laughing as if to taunt him more.

"Are you faster than me, Atobe?" They took off across the sunlit sand, Fuji's feet turning up a cloud as he ran. Fuji was fast—he was able to probably outrun Atobe when he sprinted, and that wasn't even considering that Fuji got a head start.

"Fuji," he called ahead of him, as the wind roared past his face.

Fuji ran to his heart's content, enjoying the sensation of soundly beating Atobe, until the other's endurance won out and Atobe caught up and grabbed Fuji by the shoulders, bringing him to a sudden stop. By any means, he wasn't accustomed to being caught, but he'd already deleted the picture and was smiling deviously at their proximity, until he leaned in and kissed Atobe so suddenly that he was able to slip away from Atobe's grip, clutching his digital camera to his heart. The next time, he didn't try and slip away when Atobe grabbed him by the shoulders and looked at his eyes. Rather, he flicked open his unfathomable blue eyes and said "It would be excellent blackmail to take a picture of you now." Atobe only responded with a passionate kiss.

Fuji only smiled.

Fuji stood at the window, with his digital camera in hand before retuning to a project on the floor, a mess of folded paper cranes. His fingers were nimble and folded the patterned paper fast until it was lovely—Fuji was always very talented at this sort of things. For festivals, he always folded everything. For the next crane, he took a piece of snowflake-patterned paper, folded it, and held it out to Atobe.

"I suppose you wouldn't like this one, then. You don't like the snow."

"Maybe." Every day with Fuji was different, but they had not kissed since then. They hugged; they held hands. They were even brave enough to cuddle together one night, but never again to kiss, as if the kiss on the beach that day was forbidden.

"What are you doing, anyways?" Atobe's Greek homework sat ignored in his lap while Fuji folded, and the pile of cranes that gathered around his legs grew into a sea. Fuji only smiled and put his finger over his lips, signifying it was a secret. Staring out the dark window for a minute to the fluttering snow outside, he abandoned his notebook and went to sit next to Fuji on the floor.

"Are you trying to fold a thousand cranes, Fuji?" Smiling, the boy shook his head and continued to fold until he seemed satisfied and began stringing them together with a needle. Looking at the last piece of paper, one patterned with hearts, Atobe folded it into a rather haphazard crane, and once he was done stringing the others, Fuji took it and ran it on the needle too so that he had a garland of cranes. He took the heart-patterned one that the other folded and kissed the wing, bowing his head for a moment.

"Help me." He picked up the mass of garland and began taping it onto the wall near Atobe's bed. The room was big, but Fuji strings the garland loosely and it ran across nearly half of the large bedroom, form his desk to his bed, over the window. Fuji finally taped the end with the heart-pattered crane to the wall and nodded in satisfaction.

"You're frustrating." He said. "Are you ever going to tell me what this is for?" Fuji smiled, walked up behind him, wrapped his arms around his torso, and put his chin against his shoulder, though he needed to strain his head slightly to do. Fuji's faint heartbeat felt strange against his back, and he was nearing the end of his patience. Was Fuji going to be annoying, or would he actually tell his intent? He pulled away from Fuji for a moment and went to touch the patterned garland that was strung around his room.

"It's five-hundred cranes." Fuji said.

Atobe blinked. "Isn't that only half a wish?" For a moment, he withheld to urge to kiss Fuji, until it faded away completely.

Fuji smiled faintly. "Yes, but you have to work for all wishes, don't you?"

"We're graduating soon," Fuji said, "But you haven't told me what you're going to do in your future."

Though he paused for a moment, Atobe was easily able to answer it—he would attend a university for a while and learn how to run a business so that one day, he would inherit his family's company. It was something he knew that he needed to do, but for a moment, he faltered at it.

"I will inherit my father's company one day."

Fuji leaned forward, as if the whole matter was perplexing. Maybe he was able to hear how Atobe's voice faltered, even though it was only for a millisecond. Maybe he was able to see his brow quiver a fraction at the thought of the future, because when he graduated, even Fuji knew that Atobe's parents wanted him to marry so that the future of the company was insured. Even he knew the importance of grandchildren to Atobe's parents. Until now, his parents seemed to care very little about their son's antics, but the idea of another heir was growing into an overwhelmingly symbol. Fuji wanted to protest that it was unfair, but they were his parents. They were entitled to be that selfish about their son.

"What do you want to do?" Hesitantly, Atobe tried to break the tense silence between them by leaning forward and taking Fuji suddenly, yet gently into his arms. At that moment, Fuji wanted to protest every injustice he felt, but his lips quivered and he never spoke until he was able to cover everything up with a smile. In Atobe's voice, it was apparent that he wasn't quite ready to let Fuji go off on his own; he was too selfish and too proud to be able to call Fuji 'his'.

"I want to be a photographer."

As if he thought of the answer wrong, his arms tightened possessively around Fuji and the boy squeaked when the air was nearly squeezed out of him. This gesture was very uncharacteristic of either of them, but it was warm nonetheless. This was the first gesture of real affection the shared in months, and Atobe didn't hesitate this time to kiss the top of his head just so that he knew that Fuji wouldn't try and squirm away from him. He kissed each of Fuji's cheeks to ensure that his mind would be trapped within the confines of love forever—he was too selfish to care what it did to Fuji.

"Fuji, I will never let you go too far," he told him confidently. Nodding numbly into Atobe's arms, Fuji let all his wishes slip and surrendered to the warmth. If he had to live with this his entire life, he didn't think that it would be horrible. Looking at the wall full of cranes, Fuji nodded. They were five hundred cranes short of a wish, but all that meant was that it would take a little more effort.

They would make a life together.

After many stolen kisses and hidden gestures of affection, Fuji appreciated being able lay next to Atobe and not say a word, but bathe in Atobe's selfish possession. They were always rather silent with each other after such tender moments, partially because they knew if they opened their mouths, Fuji would tease Atobe, or Atobe would challenge Fuji. Sometimes, it was nicer to get away from competition for one night, so when they were together like this, they fashioned such moments in silence. In his embrace, or even just lying next to him, it was easy enough to forget all the obligations the both faced. Sometimes, it was better that way. Fuji was not nearly as selfish as Atobe—he realized what was expected of them. Nonetheless, he couldn't tear himself away from Atobe.

"We should run away…" With five hundred cranes, even after their obligations, they would be able to continue their relationship together. They could run away if they wanted—they could truly make it work. However, Atobe was not the type of person who was ready to run away from his pampered life simply for love; he only spoke of it foolishly. Likewise, Fuji was sure that he would never leave his mother, Yuuta, and Yumiko for that simple reason. Fuji turned seriously to him and blinked. They both had too many obligations to elope like star-struck teenagers. Their relationship was fare different than that type of innocent love. It was far more a sad, star-crossed love. They were easily happy when they were younger because then, their parents wouldn't care. They would account the relationship to their childish nature. However, it needed to end sometime soon. Neither wanted that to happen. So, Fuji tried to change the subject.

"Let's go to the ocean, tomorrow."

"Do you want to?" Against his chest, Fuji nodded.

In these times, even when they lay there contemplating the future, he was quite sure that they could be together for a long time. He would still inherit the company and his parents would be forced to come to terms with the fact that their heir would be adopted. His parents wouldn't pass on the company to anyone else—he was the only heir. As for Fuji's parents, Atobe never cared about them very much. If they didn't want him to be with their son, he would only steal Fuji away. He would simply kidnap Fuji one night and hide him so that nobody would be able to find them, and though this notion was childish, Atobe liked it very much.

What would their parents say about their relationship, anyways?

Fuji still preoccupied himself with worry over it.

Under the covered, he shivered and sneezed once, and Atobe looked over at him for a minute, at his slightly pink nose and pale lips. Fuji's cold arrived with alarming frequency, and in turn Atobe moved away from him muttering about how he didn't want Fuji to make him ill.

They never said anything else.

It was cold and rainy; now Atobe knew that it was a bad idea to come to the ocean today because the wind whipped dangerously around and chilled to the bone. Atobe cursed at the sudden change in weather as lightening rippled through the air. He called his driver and shouted for him to come back. Fuji's bangs were heavy with water and sneezes loudly. He blinks at the boy but says nothing when Fuji offers a dry, hoarse cough. Now Fuji was sick. Atobe was infuriated that his driver wasn't here already.

The glare of the headlights shine from the parking lot, casting slightly across the sand and Fuji nearly slipped as they tried to climb the steep bank. His driver was waiting outside for them by the time they made it there with an umbrella. Atobe shoved Fuji in first and jumped into the limo next to escape the storm and as soon as he steadied himself, he realized Fuji was still sitting on the floor, coughing hoarsely and shivering.

"Fuji—" In any other situation, Fuji would have caught the towel when Atobe threw it at him, beckoning him to dry off and come off the floor so they could sit next to each other. Fuji didn't' touch it. He was in slight shock from the cold. Biting back an annoyed growl he knelt on the ground and laid his chin against Fuji's shaking shoulder. "Let's get off the floor, Fuji." His voice still spoke a command, but it was somehow gentler. Nodding, Fuji shakily picked up the towel. After a sigh, Atobe went to dry Fuji's hair with his towel. Though his face was slightly annoyed, as if he was not used to showing the courtesy of helping another person, Fuji smiled, and amid Atobe's warmth, his cough softened and his shivers lessened.

"Thank you," Fuji nodded as Atobe cast the wet towel across the limousine rather carelessly. Outside, the thunder raged and the rain lashed the windows angrily, but they were safe now, and Fuji sat at his side like he always dreamed—Fuji was always so uptight in this limousine, Atobe didn't know why, but today he seemed to relax after the gesture of courtesy on the slow, long journey back to Atobe's mansion. He continued to cough, though, and Atobe arched an eyebrow. Maybe it wouldn't hurt for Fuji to see a doctor later.

Selflessness, even when the sacrifice was so small, made a difference to Fuji, and for that he was truly amazed. Atobe never did kind things for others; he didn't even show the courtesy of drying somebody off. Today, though, when he saw how pleased Fuji was, he understood only a little why there were people in the world who loved to help others. Atobe felt proud of himself.

He never recognized the lesson that he learned as he finished drying off Fuji while the conversed softly, but his heart was never happier. He wanted to be with Fuji always.

"Keigo?" His mother opened the bedroom door to find her son immersed in a pile of paper cranes. This pile was growing… hours ago, it was nothing and out of pure power of will, Atobe was slowly beginning to make a pile nearly as large as the ones strung on Fuji's garland. Many were crudely folded, and few looked perfect. There were few things that Atobe couldn't do, but this was one of them. They were not nearly as beautiful as the strand of five hundred cranes that Fuji folded for him, but they were beautiful. Even at his mother's voice, Atobe didn't look up. He only continued to fold the paper.

"What are you doing?"

"Folding cranes," Atobe stated plainly. For a moment, his eyes were clearly fixed on a crane folded on patterned paper—the paper was decorated with hearts. Then, his eyes went back to the task at hand, and he set the last one on the pile. His mother put her finger on her lips in surprise. Her son never folded paper that much, but now he had many cranes. Carefully, he took a needle, threaded it, and began running it through the middle of the cranes, impatiently pulling the cranes across the string.

"How many did you fold, dear?"

"Five hundred."

His mother smiled a little. "Don't you need to fold a thousand to get your wish, Keigo?" To her surprise, his son looked up from his task and simply shook his head. Five hundred paper cranes would take a while to string, but he was obviously proud of his work. There were twenty cranes on the thread and he displayed it proudly to his mother before continuing with his tax. His mother smiled a little, but she couldn't understand what he meant, not even when she looked at the garland Fuji made that was still taped to the wall.

She closed the door and left him alone. From downstairs, he heard the piano echo across the mansion. She was a beautiful player in fact, and he enjoyed hearing it. Slowly, he looked back to his work, whispered something to Fuji, and continued.

It seemed like days later when Atobe held the string of completed cranes, victorious, but he was nonetheless successful—he just wasn't used to doing such tedious work to achieve his desires. Slowly, he picked up the tape and began stringing the cranes around his room. The looked nice alongside Fuji's garland, and with a thousand cranes, the strand reached along their room. Victorious after his painful hours of work, Atobe taped the end of the strand next to the heart-patterned crane and kissed its wing. He placed his hands on his hips, victorious, and looked at his strand. Fuji would be satisfied now. Yet, in his mind Fuji laughed and pointed at how sloppy his cranes were compared to the others, even after hours and hours of work.

Audibly, Atobe bit out a threat, only to realize that Fuji wasn't there.

His cell phone rang.

"Moshi moshi," He already knew who it was, even before he picked up the phone or looked at the caller ID, so he already had his most charming smile on, accompanied by a self-confident air and arrogant voice. However, the smile that ran across his face was genuine—more genuine than the ones he gave his fans. The rain that hammered across the window was gentler at the very sound of the voice on the other line.

"When are you coming to visit me?" Atobe looked down at his street shoes and fixed the laces. His limo was already waiting outside.

"Ah, I'm coming. I'll be bringing you some good food, too. Your recovery won't be any easier if you are forced to eat that nasty hospital food. Don't protest, either. You're eating it. Our finest cook made it specially for you." Across the line, he could imagine Fuji smiling brightly at the thought; though he didn't like Atobe to bring him food; their tastes differed, and Atobe was sure that Fuji didn't know what fine food tasted like. Nonetheless, Fuji would like this meal and it would be a lot easier to stomach than commoner's food. It was as if Atobe read his thoughts, even with the arrogant, self-centered attitude.

His limousine driver brought him to the very front doors of the hospital and he strolled off to find Fuji, following the directions of several misguided nurses before he found Fuji's room in a hidden corner on the third floor. Satisfied, he strolled in and unwrapped the heaping plate of food he brought. Rather than staring at the food, Fuji simply looked at Atobe.

"What?"

"I didn't think that you would come see me." Truthfully, Atobe had been trying to evade the hospital for three days. It was dirty and unclean and Atobe was too good to be seen along the hallways, but the last time he made an excuse so that he wouldn't come and see Fuji here, the boy was very upset and slurred out something that he didn't even mean. (That day, Fuji was on enough medication to make him drowsy enough to say foolish things.)

"How is your pneumonia?"

"Good. They told me that I could leave in a few days."

With a self-confident smile, Atobe drew two slips of paper from his pocket and set them on Fuji's hospital tray. For only a moment, the boy blinked before sitting up and gaping. There were two round-trip tickets to Paris there, a city that Fuji always longed to visit. Moving his mouth wordlessly, he looked at Atobe.

"Whether or not you're ready, we're leaving next week." Fuji squirmed slightly in happiness, but paused for a moment, holding the tickets in his hand back and forth.

"Why so soon?"

"We'll start our life together." Spending their life together was fine; Fuji just never expected Atobe to say it. Charmingly, Atobe held his hand out to Fuji. "I'll take it as a 'yes'."

"Flight 401A nonstop from Tokyo to Paris, now boarding." Atobe and Fuji boarded the plane. Fuji's camera hung around his neck, and he stood eagerly at Atobe's side, looking out past the terminal window. Off in the distance he was able to see the mountains and blooming cherry blossom trees. Japan was beautiful this time of year, but Fuji thought that Paris would be just as beautiful. Bringing his camera to his eye and taking a picture of Atobe, he laughed.

"Delete it," Atobe bit out sternly.

"Ah—maybe you can convince me when we get there." He held his camera inconveniently out of Atobe's reach as the boarded. The other's stared and immediately, Atobe dropped any attempt to get Fuji to delete the embarrassing pictures and instead went to his seat, intentionally taking the window seat because he knew that Fuji was going to want it.

Maybe it would be motivation enough for him to delete that picture. Instead of saying anything, though Fuji simply sat down beside Atobe and leaned over his lap to see the view, until they were speeding up towards the clear blue sky. There weren't even any clouds today; it was beautiful. As they climbed higher, they were able to see tufts of pink and green spotted among brown and white, and the busy metropolis of downtown Tokyo. They saw the mountains, engulfed in mist and a winding river that wove in the direction of the ocean. Fuji, who probably never took flights often, opened his mouth wide in awe and pleasure. Unlike some of the flight sick passengers, he was falling in love with the view as they climbed higher into the sky and the ocean came into sight. For a moment, he stopped next and they both stared out the window, their shoulders nearly touching, and though Atobe always disliked the ocean, he couldn't help but revel the beautiful view and take delight in the fact that Fuji was so pleased with such a simple thing.

"Our wish came true, Atobe?"

He nodded.

"I folded the last five hundred cranes myself." Fuji nodded and after tearing himself away from the beautiful view, occupied himself with a tennis machine, humming as he read an article on promising tennis players and pointing out to Atobe that they, along with Tezuka, were mentioned in the article explicitly as some of Japan's most promising high school graduates in the world of tennis.

As Fuji entertained himself with other things, Atobe drifted to his own thoughts as he flipped through the pages of his favorite novel. Their love was nothing close to perfection, he thought, but he wouldn't substitute it for anything else, not even on the nights when Fuji annoyed Atobe to no end, or on the nights when Fuji stayed at his house and they fought about which side of the bed to have—or whether somebody should sleep on the floor or not.

In all truth, he was glad that their wish was granted.

Years passed like hours sometimes, and sometimes hours passed like years. Even upon their graduation, Fuji already taught him many things. He thought him how to lose—how to be humble, if only slightly—Fuji taught him how to make a tiny, selfless sacrifice for the good of it, even though Atobe was never able to make major sacrifices. Neither of them was completely wise, but neither was stupid. Atobe chased blindly after beauty and Fuji chased after the thrill of life. Somehow, in some way, they were able to keep each other together.

Today was warm.

"Fuji, come back here!" he shouted. Fuji shot across the warm sand, darting to let his feet play in the surge from the ocean for a moment before taking off full-speed ahead of Atobe. Atobe was still great at running long-distance. Fuji was still good at sprinting. His feet whipped past a few blades of beach grass and off in the distance, the mountains guarded them as they ran.

"You're going to have to catch me first!" He held his digital camera out tauntingly yet never let Atobe touch it. The man was growing frustrated, clenching his teeth and darting stealthily around in a poor attempt to get Fuji to surrender the digital camera, the birthday present he gave Fuji more than seven years ago, for his sixteenth, technically his fourth, birthday.

"Delete it!"

"Convince me, Atobe. Eh," He tripped over a smooth stone and fell backwards, cradling his digital camera to his chest after he landed on the ground with a grunt. Atobe smirked. Now was his chance. He sprang forward on the sand and grabbed the camera before Fuji could even say anything, and without thinking, raised the camera to his eye and took a picture of Fuji's shocked face after deleting his own picture.

Fuji's mouth hung open.

"Atobe, that's mine." Smiling deviously, and prancing past Fuji, he mimicked Fuji's voice.

"You're going to have to catch me, first."

Instead, Fuji broadened his smile, flashed his attractive blue eyes seductively and walked the opposite way on the beach. "I suppose I'm no match for Atobe-sama." It was like magic; Atobe trotted after Fuji's heels, upset at the very idea of being ignored, until Fuji snatched the camera back and placed it over his neck, along with a single string that held the five hundredth paper crane. Nodding evenly to Atobe, he kicked up the sand slightly and walked along the waters edge with the other man in close pursuit. They were capable of normal romance other than their childish games, too.

"We should come to the ocean more often." He told Atobe. The man smiled widely, his most charming, arrogant smile. Business often called Atobe to work long hours, and the alone time they were allowed was at home, not traveling to the ocean. However, Atobe was still inclined to grant Fuji's wishes.

"As you wish!"

Holding the heart-patterned crane in his fingers, he kissed the wing and smiled brightly.