Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis. Obviously

It had taken all the courage he had not to go to pieces in the doctor's office, where he'd been looking in the eye and told without preamble that there was only one way he could ever play tennis again, and that was to abandon his tennis team.

(with my bad hints at TezuxFuji)

The door shut with a seeming slam, though it was only a silent click, leaving a solemn silence hanging over the clubroom.

"This had an 83 percent chance of happening," Inui said quietly.

No one could even bring themselves to snap at him. The team was spread around the clubroom, unusually silent as they struggled to process what they had just been told. It just didn't seem real. Tezuka…their captain…was leaving them.

"I always told him to be careful," Oishi lamented as the realization that he would be filling in as captain suddenly came crashing in on him. "I warned him against playing full strength. He knew better."

A guilty feeling was slipping over Ryoma, who found himself unable to shake it off and as such deliberately kept quiet. If he had known this could happen he would never have played Tezuka.

"We just wanted to win," Takashi murmured, "but I never thought would feel like this."

"Damnit, it wasn't supposed to be this way!" Momo growled, slamming his hand against the wall. Kaidou hissed in agreement.

Fuji said nothing, his blue eyes staring out of focus at the floor. He hated the unusual helpless feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach so heavily it made him feel as though his lunch might come up onto the floor he seemed to be watching intently. He was not used to feeling this way, and he realized too late that he was in no way prepared for it. Whenever he was angry or upset, he could always find an outlet in tennis, whether it be sadistic pleasure at toying with an opponent or the sheer physical exertion of a tough match. But not this time. The mere thought of even holding a racquet now made his heart scream in revulsion.

He had known this was coming. Maybe not that day, at that match, but he had known that Tezuka's time would have to come eventually. That was why he watched him so carefully at practice, looking for warning signs. But no one had expected this. Not now, when they were so close to Nationals.

"I'm leaving," Momoshiro announced, throwing his bag over his shoulder. For a moment he leaned against the doorframe and looked sadly at the rest of his teammates, who could only stare back at him. There was nothing else any of them could say. This time, when he left, the door did slam.

It wasn't long after Momo's leaving that everyone else found an excuse to wander out. The atmosphere in the clubroom had become increasingly tense and depressing, leaving the rest of the team restless and quick to snap at anyone (or more likely, each other) that tested their patience. One by one they filed out, knowing they would just see each other again in the locker-room when they went to collect their bags. Soon only Fuji and Oishi remained, the latter only because he needed to prepare for the next day's practice.

"Aren't you going home?" Oishi asked gently as he flipped through the training schedule Tezuka had left behind. Before he left them…

Looking up, Oishi felt a shiver run down the back of his neck when he met Fuji's eyes, feeling as though the sharp blue pierced right through him. There was something else though; it was the wistful look that the tensai got whenever he thought about his younger brother. Oishi had seen it once when they played St. Rudolph in the city tournament, but it had just been for an instant before his teammate buried it. To see it now, in reference to Tezuka, seemed only to confirm what he still didn't want to believe.

As though in response to Oishi's question, Fuji stood up and threw his jacket over his shoulder as he crossed the room to the door. Pushing it open with more force than necessary, the tensai almost walked straight into Eiji, who was clearly waiting for their new captain. The redhead jumped and quickly moved to the side as his teammate passed. In his haste to move and Fuji's to be gone, their shoulders collided painfully, but by the time Eiji turned to apologize his friend was already in the distance.

"Fuji!" Eiji called after him, alarmed. The tensai didn't acknowledge his best friend and kept walking, though there was certainly a renewed defensiveness to his posture.

"He's taking it hardest," Oishi murmured as he came up behind his doubles partner, who could find nothing to say and bowed his head.

"It's hard for a person like Fuji to accept," Inui said perceptively, appearing out of nowhere behind them.

"What's that?" Eiji asked in confusion, and Oishi looked up curiously as well.

"To realize that you're suddenly alone."

"Tezuka!"

The captain slowed and turned so his teammate could catch him, watching in amusement as Fuji's sandy hair swirled in the wind as he fell into stride with him. It didn't surprise him that he ran into Fuji in this park; it was close to the tensai's house and was one of his favorite places to take pictures. Sure enough, that was what he had been doing today. Tezuka ignored the flash as his teammate snapped a shot of him from less than a foot away, which the captain was sure could only be of the inside of his ear. Someday Fuji would learn to act his age off the tennis courts.

"Ne, Tezuka, what brings you here?" Fuji asked, though he was smiling curiously, almost as though he already knew what the answer would be.

Tezuka would never admit to anyone else that he had come to the park that day looking for his teammate, for he didn't really believe in having company simply for companionship's sake. The captain was on his way back from the hospital when his feet brought him, not to the bus station that would take him home, but to the less familiar neighborhood where Fuji lived. But now he was here, so it was no good dwelling on how.

"Tezuka?" his teammate murmured, for he hadn't received an answer.

"No reason," the captain replied quickly, though there was an apparent unease about the way he said it that, though it wouldn't have been noticeable to anyone else, was obvious to Fuji. The tensai's smile faltered, but he made no comment.

For a few moments they walked in silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts. For the first time Tezuka acted…uncomfortable with Fuji's presence. The blonde tensai had a way of seeing past his defenses that made him greatly uneasy. With the stress he was under now, Tezuka knew it wouldn't take much pressure from his teammate to make him crack. The thought of losing control—something that he'd never let happen before—was more than enough to make Tezuka regret coming. Strangely, it seemed Fuji didn't notice his teammate's discomfort (because if he did he would never allow his captain to forget it.) However, he was the one to break the silence.

"You came from the hospital," Fuji observed.

Tezuka looked over at him in surprise, but before he could ask how he knew Fuji explained: "You have an appointment number on your hand, there's a mark from an IV in your arm, and you smell," he leaned closer, "like disinfectant."

Not wanting to know why Fuji had been smelling him, Tezuka nodded.

"And?" The tensai's eyes had opened, and he regarded his captain seriously with the bright sapphires. "What did they tell you about your arm?"

It took him a minute to realize Tezuka had stopped walking, and Fuji turned to face him a few feet away. The question had frozen the captain's feet to the sidewalk, and as much as he wanted to move them, his body disobeyed. It had taken all the courage he had not to go to pieces in the doctor's office, where he'd been looking in the eye and told without preamble that there was only one way he could ever play tennis again, and that was to abandon his tennis team. The news had shaken the very foundations of his stoic appearance, and to recount it to Fuji now would be impossible. As though sensing this, Fuji closed the distance between them so he could talk to his captain and, more importantly, look into his eyes. The tensai prided himself on being the only one that could see past the barriers in those eyes and catch a glimpse of Tezuka's real self.

"I'm leaving," Tezuka said shortly, not trusting his voice to say more.

The blonde looked stunned for a moment, and his lapse allowed Tezuka to break his gaze and step away, though he knew he would not get far. Less than five steps later Fuji caught his arm (his good one, he noticed, assuming his teammate had probably done it on purpose) and held fast. Not until the captain had fully explained himself would the tensai allow him to go.

"What do you mean, 'you're leaving'?" Fuji asked. The sympathetic tone from before had vanished, replaced by one that was almost possessive and sharper than daggers.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," the captain snapped, failing to jerk his arm from his teammates grip. "Let go of my arm Fuji."

Surprisingly, the tensai obeyed. His hand dropped weakly to his side, where it trembled slightly as he glared at his captain. This couldn't be happening. Even as he thought it, he knew Tezuka wasn't a person for jokes; especially not sadistic, twisted jokes like this one had to be. That had to be it. This was a twisted joke set up by his teammates as payback for all the times he had tricked them. As much as Fuji desperately wanted to believe that, he knew it was not so.

"What do you mean, 'you're leaving'?" he repeated, this time softly.

"How many meanings does the word have?" Tezuka snapped angrily. "I. Am. Leaving!" He was shouting now, he realized in disgust. Apparently Fuji also noticed the cracks in his teammate's composure, because the anger slowly faded from his eyes as he watched his friend berate himself silently. "The only way my arm can heal properly is to be treated in Germany," Tezuka choked out finally.

It was purely silent for a moment. A realization had dawned on Fuji, who found he had to swallow heavily before he could speak. "…Are you coming back?" he asked nervously.

Tezuka merely glanced at him, and the answer hit the tensai like ice water, turning his stomach inside out. "I don't know," the captain answered. Then, in an afterthought, he added, "The team will have to work harder for Nationals."

"I don't care about Nationals!" Fuji shouted, startling both of them. "I care about you! I can't believe you would do this."

As soon as he said it, Fuji wished he hadn't. The captain couldn't be held responsible for what had happened to him. Tezuka was doing what needed to be done, no matter how painful it was. Fuji should be wishing him good luck and a speedy recovery, but that was something the blonde found he just couldn't do. Something in his chest was burning and it felt like fire was pricking his throat.

"It's ok Tezuka," the tensai said as he watched his captain turn away, desperately trying to hide the weakness that burned in the corners of his eyes.

"No its not!" Tezuka shouted angrily. "You're right Fuji, I shouldn't be doing this!"

'No, you shouldn't,' his teammate agreed silently, but he forced himself to say what was right. "You have to do this Tezuka. If it's the only way, don't dare to let anyone try and stop you."

"Of course…I'm sorry Fuji," Tezuka murmured.

In the face of their reality, sorry just seemed so superficial.

As per normal schedule, everyone dragged himself to practice the next afternoon, though it went without saying that no one wanted to be there. Each had contemplated skipping, but with the thought came the memory of their captain, and the painful truth filled them again and made them shameful they had ever considered it. Momoshiro was late, and he would have been almost glad to run laps as at least a stab at normalcy. But no one said anything to him, and new-captain Oishi only gave him an exasperated look in reprimand, but it was enough to sink his already low spirits.

They tried to practice like they knew their captain would have wanted, they really did, but it was no use. About halfway through a hitting drill Kaidou snapped and smashed a ball high over the fence, and it seemed everyone had been waiting for such an opportunity as an excuse to stop. Without waiting to be told the eighth-grader ran off to retrieve the ball, and a moment later it came flying back over the fence, though no one protested when he didn't return with it. Out of view of his teammates, Kaidou dropped his racquet and collapsed on the grass beside it with a hiss. Untying his bandana, he hid his face in the brightly-patterned fabric.

"So Kaidou was the first to break," Inui observed, albeit somberly, and he had no intention of writing it in his notebook as data.

The rest of the team sat around the baseline of the near court, each absorbed in his thoughts. Would they compete without a captain? Could they compete without a captain? The overwhelming talent of their school made that question redundant; yes, they could, physically at least. Could they compete mentally without a leader to gravitate toward and follow? Possibly, but definitely not in the state they were in now. And even if Tezuka came back, would he be recovered enough to compete with them? These questions plagued everyone's mind and made the already-bleak situation suddenly look even more hopeless.

"So is this how it ends?" Eiji asked no one in particular. His voice hung dead in the silence, its usual enthusiastic sparkle gone.

"No!"

Everyone jumped slightly at the voice and turned to stare at Fuji, who was on his feet. The 9th grader's sapphire eyes fixed them each in a piercing glare one by one. It made them shudder and a couple looked away, though Echizen and Momoshiro stubbornly met his gaze, their pride not allowing them to back down. Everyone felt it; Fuji was challenging them. Challenging them to continue to push themselves and play their best games without Tezuka's help.

"We're going to Nationals," Fuji told them. "Don't tell me after all this that you don't want it. Well?" he demanded when no one spoke. The question sliced through to the heart of everyone's grief. This time the tensai had each of his teammates' gazes as he looked at them.

"Fuji's right!" Oishi said, standing up as well. "We're going to Nationals."

"Hoi hoi, now you're talking!"

Eiji leapt up and stood next to his doubles partner, his bouncy enthusiasm already starting to return. The three ninth-graders looked challengingly down at the rest of them.

"Well hell, you can't be a team with three," Momoshiro said finally, and he dragged Ryoma up with him.

From nearby, Inui came to stand with the two underclassman, who were busy pulling Takashi to his feet as well. All seven players stood in a circle and put their hands in the center, exactly as they had used to do as a team. Just as they began to look around, the gate opened and Kaidou jogged over to them, putting his hand in alongside Inui's.

"We will go to Nationals!"

"Hoi, to Nationals!"

"To the Nationals!"

"For you, Kunimitsu," Fuji thought to himself.

For a moment the team stood together, each one taking confidence from the determination that smoldered in his teammates' eyes. Fuji was right of course; Tezuka would never forgive them if they abandoned their goal now that they were so close.

"I can't believe we let ourselves quit," Momo said in amazement

"Buchou would make us run laps for giving up, nya," Eiji quipped.

And so the whole team, new captain included, ran laps for the remainder of that afternoon's practice.

So what does everybody think? Sorry if Tezuka slips out of character, he's just hard to write. I think Fuji's pretty ok tho..R&R!!!