Title: Remembering
Author: Mimikitty
Recipient's name: enderxenocide
Beta: Gwynhafra
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Tezuka/Ryoma with Fuji
Warnings: Not for children. ;
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: I'd like to thank Gwyn for the revising of this fic. She is, as usual, just fantastic and is a great friend. This fic was written for the Santasmex community Christmas exchange fic. I hope that it was to your liking, dear Rooney. Please go check the fic that tokyostory wrote to me. It's called "Fish or cut bait" and it is written marvellously (http://community. livejournal. com/santasmex/18000. html). Just eliminate the space (blame FFnet).

Awaking with a start, a man in his thirties opened his brown eyes. Dreams. He remembered when he took a class in psychology in University. Dreams were described as the subconscious experience of a sequence of images, sounds, ideas, emotions, or other sensations during sleep. He remembered being giving data from one of his close classmates that sexual content dreams only show up less than 10 percent in the time and were more prevalent in young and mid teens. There were also 70 percent of men's dreams containing other men as characters in their dreams. He remembered that in one of the books, it said that men's dreams had more aggressive feelings and studies supported that there was continuity between our conscious and unconscious styles and personalities. He remembered that Ferenczi wrote a book about dreams. It was told that dreams might communicate something that was not being said outright in the real world, in our waking state. Looking at the lavender ceiling, he remembered the years he had spent remembering.

He nuzzled the emerald black hair below his chin, closed his eyes, and fell back asleep.

Tezuka Kunimitsu remembered.

He remembered when he was twelve and set foot for the first time in Seishun Gakuen. The school was so big. He was also amazed the first time he saw all those tennis courts. He put his name on the list to be part of the tennis club. Freshmen were supposed to train with swinging their racquets, picking balls and could not participate in the ranking matches until later in the year. But it was okay. That was how it was supposed to be. Traditions and seniority was important. That was how he was raised.

When picking balls, he always felt eyes on him. He never turned to see who was looking at him. The feeling of such intensity on him was already making his skin crawl.

One day, a light brown haired boy introduced himself as Fuji Syusuke. The smile on the boy's face was friendly, but it held something more that Tezuka could not pick up. That night, he dreamed of crystal blue eyes going over his naked body, flattering him. Those eyes had felt like a feather tickling him, on his neck, on his chest, his legs, and his toes. They were on his thigh, in the most intimate places of his body. Waking up in the earlier hours, before his alarm clock rang, he found his hand on his shaft. He found that it was stiffening and rising when his hand went up and down. He bit back a moan. That morning, he could not meet his mother in the eye when she said "good morning" nor could he say beyond a series of mumbles when she bid him to have a nice day. He might have been twelve, but he knew that even in dreams, he should not be dreaming of other boys. It was shunned by society.

Facing Fuji on the courts was harder than he ever thought. Yamato-buchou made him face the smiling boy one day and the match was unforgettable. He did not remember who won; all he could remember on that day was the damp, smooth hand grasping his own. That night, in the showers, he touched himself for the very first time in a sensual manner. He still remembered those blue eyes, the color of the skin and the way Fuji's hair would float when he was using one of his counters. The way his short rose in the wind when he had his back toward Tezuka made him want to blush during the game. He bit back a moan, quickly finished his shower, which had turned cold, and went to bed. That night, he dreamed once again of his new classmate and new team mate.

Tezuka Kunimitsu remembered.

He remembered when he was thirteen and was the fukubuchou of Seigaku tennis club. He wore his jersey proudly for all to see. Remembering Yamato's parting words, he would do everything he could to be the best pillar of Seigaku. Through he still felt the ache in his left arm, he did not care. Or rather, he dreamt of playing tennis. He played tennis on a hard court, with a smiling boy.

That year, he did not participate in the last few tournaments because of his arm. There was always his smiling friend comforting him.

Fuji was always there. After classes, Tezuka could always find Fuji in front of his classes waiting for him. They would walk home, or at least, walk together for a part of the road. It would always be Fuji who chatted and Tezuka would only listen and nod once in awhile. He listened to Fuji's problem concerning Yuuta. He tried to help him solve his problem, but since he had never been in that sort of situation, he could only give vague advices.

In one of their literature classes, they had to do a project in pair of two. In that class, Fuji and Inui were both in this class with him. Of course, there were others, but Tezuka still preferred to be with one of his team mate, it would be easier to work together when both had tennis practice after school hours. Tezuka has always been practical, and with that, he chose the lesser of the two evil, at least, he hoped he did. So Fuji and he were partners. And since Fuji has always been the initiative of everything they ever did, once again, Fuji was the one to choose the subject.

Nanshoku.

Fuji chose the title of a book, which basically meant "male colors".

Homosexuality.

Fuji had chosen to make an essay and an oral presentation on "Homosexuality in Japan, from ancient Japan to the modern society".

Tezuka wondered if he did indeed choose the less of two evil. Would a project on BuggleBeeJuice be better ? That only gave him a headache, the beginning of many.

In the end, it was not as bad as he had predicted. He had more knowledge on homosexuality and truth to be told, he was more acceptable with this 'homosexual behaviour'. In reality, Japan was one of the country that accepted homosexuality openly and laws were fair to people. There was no discrimination and the modern society accepted homosexuality more openly than any other countries in the world. Mostly, what helped the most in the present society in Japan was what the world called, the 'popular culture'. However, Tezuka had to ask himself if there was a point that Fuji wanted to make by choosing this particular subject. He did not dwell on this for too long as he had other homework, assignments and tennis duties to think of.

Tezuka Kunimitsu remembered.

He remembered when he had his first ejaculation. He was fourteen and it was the day he first saw Echizen Ryoma. From Oishi, who heard it from Momoshiro, there was a new freshman who was good, and Oishi had even used Momoshiro's word to describe the serve. "A rocking cool twist serve", he had said. That day, in the classroom, what he first saw was a cap. No student was allowed to wear a cap, or anything on the head because of the school policy. And that had included Kaidoh's bandana. He still remembered having heard about it through Oishi that the teachers, through very afraid of Kaidoh, made him take off his yellow bandana during school hours. Tezuka wondered if that freshman made a commotion in class with his cap. When he saw the left arm of the freshman raise to slam the ball, he knew that it would go in the basket. Even at the moment, he knew that he would give him a chance to prove his worth.

The first time those golden eyes laid eyes on him, Tezuka wanted to go to the bathroom and jerk himself off. Later in his own shower at home, he put his hand on himself and thought of those golden eyes and those pink lips that were in a smirk. Tezuka quietly moaned when he thought of those small, but attractive lips. When he entered the tennis court back in the Seigaku tennis club, he ordered Echizen and Arai to run laps. Arai had complained, but Echizen only regarded him coolly and to him, it felt as if he had been giving to cold shoulder. He felt that he had to prove something; that he had to make a statement that he was indeed the buchou and he wanted respect.

From that day, he knew that Echizen Ryoma would be a great force. Something unimaginable would happen to the club. To Tezuka, he saw the potential that this boy would have, untamed, wild and passionate. But the door to that passion was not opened yet. He knew that he had to give him a chance to prove himself, just as he needed to prove his authorities.

Tezuka Kunimitsu remembered.

He remembered his first match against Echizen. He was the one who asked for the match after hearing who Echizen Ryoma was, who his father was from Ryuzaki-sensai. The sun was setting that day. After having Ryuzaki-sensai's permission, he went to search for the freshman. Though on his way, he felt as if someone was watching him. Indeed, a pair of crystal blue eyes was following his every movement, a calculating pensive face. Tezuka found his freshman and threw a ball at him. A time and a place were confirmed.

The sun was beginning to set, touching the city with its multiple colors, Tezuka was waiting. The match was strong, full of uncertainties and it was making the game ardent. Tezuka went strong and fervent. He wanted to give Echizen an overview of his tennis so that he could evolve. This match was not passionate; there was no love in it. Whether it was a lob, a smash, a drop shot, there was no affection in their moves. When hitting the ball with their racquets, it was a form of understanding each other. To some, it could be called as 'getting to know each other'. Though to both of them, tennis was life and this was the way of earning respect.

Tezuka was the buchou of the Seigaku tennis club, and he proved it. That day, he earned the respect of the young prodigy. It was a first step, one of many actually.

When Tezuka asked Echizen to be "The Pillar of Seigaku", he never thought that this sentence alone could be the trigger of what to come. Echizen kneeling in front of him was a sight to behold. It made Tezuka's imagination go into a frenzy. There was a rush of adrenaline in him and when they did shake their hands, Tezuka took it, grasped it and pulled. Ryoma tumbled and landed in Tezuka arm, a net between them.

The kiss was awkward. They were not in a good position and to both, it was a first time. It was just the pressing of lips. Both eyes were open, though wider than normal. Their eyes reflected each other, the astonishment. But it was not disgusting. It was a discovery. Just like their match, it was a way of knowing each other. It was a gentle exploration, an easy sampling.

Then the hormones took charge. Tezuka might be older, but it seemed that Ryoma might be the more experienced one. Or maybe he was just more daring. Tezuka knew that he liked a challenge and maybe this situation was one to the young prodigy. The net between them was uncomfortable and just a bit too gaudy, since they were on a public court.

Was it Tezuka… was it Ryoma ? He was not sure but one led the other to the changing lockers that the court had. It was isolated and a bit depraved which was a perfect place to their activity.

Tezuka didn't know what he was doing, through it seemed that Ryoma liked what he was doing. He could not think, especially when Ryoma was using that tongue on his pulse. He was doing the exact same thing to his partner, which was sucking on that long and eye-catching neck. Tezuka slipped an arm around Ryoma's thin waist and drew him even closer. They both groaned when their members touched through their shorts. It was intimate and required no words, only moans, groans and unintelligible sound, animalistic. Tezuka was nipping Ryoma's jaw when he felt a cold hand on his member, touching and flattering. Their mouth went crashing into each other with need. Tezuka's hands were tangling in greenish hair, dragged his head back so that he could have more, still more, of that impatient, erotic mouth. Ryoma's hands were still pleasuring him while nipping his teeth over his throat.

Tezuka wanted to savour, moment by moment, inch by inch, but the need was huge, strong and almost agonizing. He ran his hands over him, torturing them both, pleasing them both. Moans were echoed in the locker room. Ryoma was unable to wait and he tugged on Tezuka's shirt, taking it off of him. In the process, Tezuka's glasses were knocked away. Neither cared until much later. Ryoma being the shorter one, had an advantage at nipping Tezuka's nipples and he took great pleasure in using that benefit. Tezuka nearly cried out, just feeling the sensation of lips and tongue on his flesh. It brought an unknown, low and throbbing ache.

Without Tezuka realising, they were both naked. They were still facing each other; hands going up and down their bodies, their members were rubbing against each other's. As if he had done many times, Tezuka was suddenly inside Ryoma. Not knowing what exactly to do especially after hearing Ryoma's cry of pain. He stopped moving. Trusting his instinct, which has always helped him on unknown territories and it was the case here, Tezuka murmured sweet words, and gently licked Ryoma's pale shoulder. Slowly, he was forcing himself just a little harder into Ryoma. In the beginning, he was slowly entering and coming out of Ryoma, and slowly, from pain, the cries turned into one of pleasure. The moving became more natural, like breathing. Speed came, violent and craving for more. There was a storm raging not only in Tezuka, but in his lover as well. The final thrill came and they cried their passion together in a roar.

It was his first time… their first time.

Tezuka Kunimitsu remembered.

He remembered when he lost his match against Atobe. Ryoma had said not to lose. He had. He wanted to prove something. Something that he, himself did not know. He might look like a 30 years old man. He was extremely mature for his age, but he was still a teenager who could make mistakes. He knew that he might have thrown away his future, but he wanted to do this. He wanted to make Ryoma realise that tennis was beyond winning. It was not only a sport, but a way of life. But at that time, Tezuka did not know the full extent of his sacrifice.

Frottage, or frot to be more precise with the terminology.

That was the word he later learned of what exactly they had done.

In Kawamura's men's bathroom nonetheless.

It was the after-match party, the celebration of winning against Hyotei. Everyone was rejoicing. Eiji and Momo were hugging and singing, very loudly too. Oishi was making sure everyone was having a good time. When Tezuka excused himself to go to the bathroom, he did not know that two pairs of eyes were following him. One was unmoving while the other slipped away from the crowded people and went to join his buchou. Blues eyes followed the other's movement with keen interest. A sad smile was on his face, though his other companions did not see the difference from his usual cheerful smile. Even Inui could not differentiate his smiles, maybe because though he was observant, he was still closed-minded and saw only what he wanted to see. He could exceed Inui's data because Inui only took account of what he saw. Probabilities could be overcome easily because data were numbers and did not take account of annotations between the lines.

Tezuka was surprised. Though thinking back, did he really want that to happen right here, right now? In his subconscious, he did. Maybe the place was not the perfect one, but the timing was. He wanted this, no he needed this and more. They were kissing, roughly too. There was no patience, no gentleness this time. Hands were everywhere, touching and grabbing. Lips were being bitten and blood was being licked. They could taste each other's impatience, the frustrated desire that echoed inside both. There was a promise of heat and speed. Tezuka pushed Ryoma against the stall. They were rubbing against each other, clothes still on and lips still attached. Tezuka could feel both their erected penis rubbing against each other. It was stimulating for him and he could feel the pleasure, the unbearable pleasure. They were grinding against each other trying to fulfill their needs, to achieve their sexual satisfaction. It was gratifying to both. It was all heat and hunger, passion warring against passion, strength pitted against strength.

Tezuka Kunimitsu remembered.

He remembered his time in Germany. He was alone, a small room, a few books and a computer. It felt lonely. He had always been a private person. He never interacted much in his childhood, always preferring standing at the side and observing. But this year, he liked being surrounded by loud team mates; it felt like he was home. They were a family and Tezuka thought that it was natural to be missing his so called family at such time when he was far away from the team. The only person that he actually kept contact with was Oishi, his fuku-buchou. Oishi tried to update him at least once a week with the club's activities and each member's improvement.

Of course, Oishi didn't mention any of the regulars' private affairs. But Tezuka was very good at reading between the lines, especially someone with Oishi's motherhen's character. Oishi has always been worrying for one thing or another so it was clear to Tezuka that something was bothering Oishi. It was not hard for him to coax the problem out of him, even if it was only an overview of the situation.

Fuji was hanging around Ryoma.

That was the conclusion that Tezuka had drawn from Oishi's babbling and awkward silence. He did not know what to think. Many nights, he lay on the small bed and stared at the ceiling. His mind was blank, which was scientifically impossible. Blank would be just a way of saying. He did think. He thought of his arm, his recovery, the nationals, but above all, he thought of Ryoma. More precisely, he thought of Ryoma being with Fuji, or was it Fuji with Ryoma? Tezuka could not make up his mind at which he was more concerned, or hurt. Yes, that feeling in his chest, he was hurt. Was he jealous? Thinking about what he knew of jealousy, he concluded that he was not. He had many nights thinking of all those insignificance of life during his recovery. He was alone, and he felt lonely even if he was, as many called him, a block of ice.

Without realising, a tear would roll down his cheek. He fell asleep. In the morning, there was no trace of that tear, his eyes was neither red nor puffy. But in his heart, he felt a pull, something dropping to the floor and breaking. The emotion he was feeling was incomprehensible and it was an unknown territory that Tezuka was afraid to go. It was a journey that he was not yet ready to embark.

Tezuka Kunimitsu remembered.

He remembered the first time Ryoma beat him at tennis. It was a sweet moment, which was what Tezuka would remember of that day. He might have lost the match, but he gained more, much more than he ever expected. The match was not like their first one. It was more intense, with more passion and not one sided. They knew each other, what the meaning of the lob was, how the smash was going to be like. It might look like a fight between two rivals on the outside, but they both knew that it was a dance between two lovers.

This time, when they said their goodbyes, they were alone. Well, as alone they could be in a sea of people at the Tokyo airport. They chose a secluded place to have at least a bit of privacy. Tezuka was standing in front of Ryoma, at arm length. Brown eyes came crushing onto golden eyes. Staying like that, looking at each other, without moving an inch, they stayed like that for awhile. No words were spoken, but the conversation was still there. It was surprising how two quiet people could talk so much, without using actual words. It was almost telepathy, but not quite. It was an understanding between them, like tennis, words were not necessary. Then lips were suddenly attached. Small arms were around a neck and longer arms were around a slender waist. They were two lovers who were soon to be separated.

The kiss was prolonged, intense and passionate.

It was a good bye, but not an adieu. They would see each other; it was a promise that was remembered.

"I'll be waiting…" Sharp blue eyes were observing each movement and biding his time.

≈≈≈THE END≈≈≈

Omake

Eyes opened, gold could be seen through those eyes. A sly smile on the face, a lick on the pillow/chest his face was sleeping on. A mewed and a purr could be heard in the room. Bigger hands than his were hugging him tightly. A sigh and he closed his eyes. That was when he remembered the first time he saw Tezuka's tennis… and fell in love with him. In his dreams, he saw a man with glasses, a severe, but with a passionate look. Beside him, stood a light brown haired man with a somewhat gentle smile. Echizen Ryoma remembered.

Somewhere far, far away, when the sun had just fallen from the sky and the moon was hanging up, a queen illuminating the night, someone was not sleeping. Lying down on his bed, his lamp lit the room. Opening his drawer, he took out a picture, where two boys were kissing under mistletoe. It was on one of their Christmas reunions, and also when they had celebrated Ryoma's birthday. His almost feminine hands were touching one of the boys in the picture. A sad smile was on his face. Brushing the cheek of the one who held his affection, he sighed deep into the night.

"One day, we will be together, just the two of us."

One tear fell from his eyes, rolled down his cheek and dropped on the pillow he was laying on. Fuji Syusuke remembered.