Name: Grasp
Author: Tin
Disclaimer: If I owned PoT, it wouldn't be nearly as straight as it is. And that is saying something.
Summary: It was the second year of high-school when Fuji made his choice to leave Japan for England, and it's a choice that he's still not sure of. Currently, it's the end of the second year and for his third and fourth, he's flying back to T-University in Japan. He doesn't know what to expect from the people he left, and those that he's missed. It's not his life anymore, the one he left behind.
Pairing: Niou/Fuji. It's not a pairing I'm particularly keen on, honestly, but I owe someone a favour.
Beta: It's un-betaed so I'd really appreciate any errors pointed out to me. I love CC, so if you feel the need to say anything, please, please don't think you're hurting my feelings saying it. Especially with the tensing of this story.

It has been five years since the end of the National finals. Fuji sits at the foot of the oak blossom tree at the student housing courtyard. Five years. Five more ticks of the hand in the clock that is eternity.

Looking back, he thinks that moving to England was probably one of the best moves he's ever made. By the time he'd reached second year of high-school he'd realised that it was time to stop playing games. It had taken a lot of time to convince his parents. No, that was wrong. It had taken a lot of time to convince himself that a move would be the right thing to do. His parents had been hesitant, but understood that even the most beautiful plants needed space to be able to flourish. It had been hardest to tell his siblings that he'd been overseas. His sister pleaded with him to stay in Japan, just so that he could visit, he understood that she didn't want to lose both of her brothers. Yuuta simply looked confused, grunted and kept quiet, but the looks he gave Fuji from the corner of his eyes simply told him that he couldn't accept the change of pace life without his brother's nagging would bring.

It's the second year of his course at the University of Leicester. A course in graphical and textural design and engineering, it was the way he was headed with life from the start. He's coming back to Japan to finish his degree, it's part of a change-over programme.

He tilts his head back to rest against the brittle wood and opens his eyes. The sun shimmers peacefully through the lattice of fine green leaves and petals above his head. The wind dances through his hair and shakes the gallery of colour above him. He sighs. It's days like this that remind him of the hot summers in Japan, sitting under the canopy of bright cherry blossoms eating bentos and sipping coke, laughing with the team. The team. They had taken it as badly as he had expected. The incredulous stares, the opening wide of the eyes. They hadn't really surprised him. The surprise came at the airport, when he thought that the wonderful friendships that he'd built his walls around had been so carefully obliterated. He was greeted in the queue for check-in with a hand on each shoulder.

"Don't let your guard down," One voice said, monotonously.

"Make sure you eat well," said another, as though in reply to the first.

Fuji had never been one for tears. His friends were there in that brief moment. Just the two of them that had come to see him off. And in that brief moment, he wasn't alone in his convictions. Yet, also, in that moment, he'd never felt so unsure of himself.

Fuji lets himself be carried away with his daydream, enjoying the limited hours of the British Summertime. He forces himself not to think of the reactions upon his arrival back in Japan. Will he be greeted by those friends he left? Will they be angry that he left them at such a time? Bitter, perhaps by the abrupt nature of his departure? Or will they have forgotten him completely? It's possible that he was just another face in their childhoods, and that no, he never made any lasting impression on them at all. That thought, he believes, is the one that scares him most.

Fuji groans, and shivers. He blinks away the sleep that's left as a residue in his heavy eyelids and stretches his back. His bed feels surprisingly rough and uncomfortable. He realises that he's still outside, and that it's dark, very dark, and the green of the grass has probably stained his trousers. He almost curses, then respects the night and uses the tree as a support to pull himself to a standing position. He stumbles, his legs still dead from the break in their use. He has a paper due day after tomorrow, or is it even today. He'd planned for it, and everything. This time, he does curse. He picks up the satchel that he had dumped so unceremoniously on the ground next to him and treks back through the garden to the entrance to the halls of residency. He murmurs to the night-man that he's sorry he's late back in, and he sweeps himself through with his card-key. The man on duty stares at him, and Fuji knows that he's being judged. So who's party were you at tonight? He can almost hear the unasked question hanging in the air, and he wants to just tell the man what happened, but his legs are aching from the strain of movement, and his head is lolling forward despite his own will to maintain it's upright position. He drags his feet to the elevator and hits the button for his floor, scooting across the floor to his door number and he sort of jabs the key-card into the lock because he really doesn't have the effort to do any more than that. The lock beeps and the door swings open.

He drops his bag by the door, besmirching the perfect state of his room, and loosens his tie. He shuffles his shoes off and sort of makes a half-assed attempt at unbuttoning his shirt before he flings himself on the bed, face down and dozes off. Dreaming about the cherry blossom petals twirling themselves around his camera lens, before suddenly melting into puddles of rain. He tosses and turns.

He forgets to set his alarm. Shit. It's a good thing that Fuji has always been an early waker otherwise would probably have skipped classes today entirely. He throws on whatever he can find and sprays himself with whatever cologne is handy, before dashing out of the apartment. He's already missed breakfast. He hopes he's not missed the bus too.

*

It turns out that, by some stroke of luck (inappropriately named, 'The British Transport Service,') he hasn't missed the bus at all, and the 42 takes him to the University in ten minutes. He isn't late, yet, but he still has no paper, and no paper means being docked a mark for every late day. Judging by the state of him at the moment, though, Fuji assumes that he's going to be at least fifty days late, meaning, at best, he can make it with twelve marks. He shakes his head, he's joking with himself. Schooling his face into the epitome of model student he walks into his lecture hall, the regular small smile playing at his pale lips. He slides into the his regular seat nearer the front of the circular room than the back. Pulling books from his bag he lays them on the table in perfect order and sits back, breathing properly for the first time all morning. The girl next to him smiles apologetically and asks him for a pencil, he reaches into his bag and hands one to her, his smile in place. He catches her gazing at him every lesson. She blushes profusely and her smile changes to that of a coy one. He turns to the front, and knows that she's just turned to face her friends and giggle. He just knows.

He isn't interested. If he were she would be fairly pretty. Wafty dark brown hair, and green eyes, over freckled features; so typical to England. It is just as well that he isn't interested, because he's just not had time to think about such things since he came to England. It's just not been in his priority list at all.

He doesn't concentrate through the lecture, it's not altogether that important though. He has the books for the topic they're covering and it's just a paragraph or two of easy research for him to do.

The day just stretches on and on and on, and finally when it's time to go back home, he sort of pulls himself onto the bus and forgets about Uni, concentrating on other things that, at the moment, take priority. It is only another week before the term is over, and he departs for Japan. He has no accommodation sorted, nor any means of commuting to the T-University planned. By the time he's back at his room, and his computer is on, he's so completely spaced out that the words he is writing aren't making any sense to him. He stretches up, and uses the decanter he's put on the shelf to pour himself a cup of coffee. He doesn't like coffee, but drinks it anyway. He feels the sting of bitter in his mouth burning its way down his throat. He clicks his mail button, and he's almost surprised to find an email from his sister:

Re: Re: How is the Hunt?

Syuusuke, have you found a place to stay yet? Is there no apartment near to the University? Are you sure you don't want to come back and stay at home, you'd be very welcome here as always. We miss you very much, Yuuta especially, I know he does, even if he wont admit it. We're glad that you're coming back soon though! It seems forever since Christmas vacation!

Let me know.

Yumiko.

Fuji blinks: the Japanese feels foreign to him. English has been all he's used for the last six months. Even in emails and the short conversations he has with his family, his Japanese is cut and curt. He had briefly visited his siblings during Christmas break, it had been a good break from the worries that schooled-life have become. The words, 'at home,' feel bitter to him, it almost makes bile rise in his throat. Not because it was not his home, for it had been a wonderful home, but that was all it had been. It is no longer his place, and once again, the regret of his decision to leave it floods his thoughts.

He pulls himself together, and musters up enough mental power to finish his paper. It will get him a good grade, as he knows it always does, and he focuses on finding a solution to the impending problem of what to do when he gets back to Japan. He doesn't reply to the email.

*

It must be some six hours later when Fuji finds what he's looking for. It's a modest apartment; a bedroom (with only a single bed), and a small en suite bathroom. It is fitted with a small kitchen and a fair sized living room. It's just right for him and his purposes and costs the equivalent of about £550 pounds a month, or £120,000 to buy. He decides that he'll rent it because even though his students income will pay for the deposit, the money could be better spent for now.

It's the second night that he sort of half collapses into bed, and lying there before sleep takes him away, he realises that he's only eaten once today.

*

It's Friday morning and classes don't start until 3:00. Fuji takes his time getting out of bed. Stretching and blinking, before shutting his eyes again. He places his feet on the floor, and feels the cold run through his legs in a slight shock. There's a huge breakfast waiting for him at the mess hall that morning: pancakes and and syrup, the American kind, and tall glasses of orange juice. He eats like he hasn't seen food in about a week before straightening himself up and returning to his room. It takes about twelve seconds before his paper prints, and he sorts his bag. He knows he hasn't changed much since high-school. He's taller, marginally, and his hair is a little longer. He still wears the woollen sweater vests, and high-button shirts. He still looks at the back of his eyelids, instead of at the world.

Classes don't drag as much today. He has to pay attention. By the time they end, the girl he'd been sitting next introduces herself as Sarah, and invites him to a, 'café for coffee.' He does the polite thing and agrees, even though he hates the idea. Sarah turns out to be from another city in England, called Sheffield. It's not one that Fuji's heard of properly. She says it's not the nicest place.

"Some people call it the steel city, because they used to make the steel there in Industrial times, it was one of the front runners, you know?" She talks enough for the both of them, and Fuji just sits there and observes her, the smile unmoving on his face. He nods when it's required, and he adds in little particles of speech, 'why,'s and, 'really,'s. She carries on talking and then asks if he'd like to get together again in the holidays. He almost says yes, but then he remembers and turns her down, sweetly and calmly.

"I go back to Japan next Friday evening." He can see the fall in her features, and then their immediate pick up.

"Oh, well that's safe then, yeah? I, uh, have you got email? Keep in touch and stuff, yeah?"

He nods, and it occurs to him that this girl might actually like him, more than the girls at valentines day with chocolates in school, but honest liking. The fact that he's leaving saddens him slightly, but only slightly.

He walks her home, and she smiles sweetly at him from the doorstep of the house she shares with her friends. She quickly shoves a piece of paper into his hands, and then steps inside, smiling at him again. The same soft smile that she'd smiled in the lecture hall the day before. He feels an acute sense of confusion as he looks at the paper and thinks of the girl he'd just had coffee with.

"Saz Jones. - S_AJh..." it continues in a similar manner. He slips it in his pocket and left for his room.

He will have to start packing on Saturday, otherwise he'll be cutting it fine. He spends a couple of hours researching the proper transport routes he needs, then lists of places to eat at. He begins to budget things, and before he knows it, the technical jabber is all finished and done with. He almost sighs with relief. Almost. Then the reality of going back to Japan really settles down on his shoulders and the fear of becoming part of the past begins to rear. Like it or not, he is going back to his home.

I don't care if it's Anon, if you enjoyed it, please drop a comment, if you didn't then please tell me why. 3