Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis.
A/N: Merry Christmas (or Happy Holidays, if you don't celebrate Christmas), everyone! And yes, finally an update... Guess I'm not good with updating... Anyways, once again, please enjoy.
And now, to complete the fanfic collection with the good ol' memory loss plot, with a bit of twist.
Dedicated to Anise. (though I am not sure if you will like how this story turns out...)
Sin, and Sin Again
"It is a sin for me to keep you from your potential… Therefore, I will not."
He left.
He left, abandoning everything---the books and literature he favored revisiting sorted neatly on the shelves, the groceries he bought only yesterday which he piled into the cabinet and cupboard and refrigerator, his own set of keys to their apartment, his toothbrush, his mug---except his clothes, which he took, completely clearing his drawers and closets.
He left, abandoning him.
He left, and in his place was a single sheet of notepaper containing a two-word message.
Farewell, Tezuka.
"Game won by Tezuka. Five games to Four."
Forget pain.
He serves.
Toss. Smash.
"Fifteen, love."
Forget love.
He serves.
Toss. Smash.
"Thirty, love."
Forget happiness.
He serves.
Toss. Smash.
"Forty, love."
Forget everything.
He serves.
Toss. Smash.
"Game won by Tezuka. Six games to four."
The final result of the match immediately led to the crowd's loss of sanity and calm. They chanted his name, loudly, repeatedly, tirelessly, hailing him as their new miracle.
Their voices were deafening.
He panted, breathing in and releasing a series of hot breaths, quickly.
Overwhelmed, he blinds himself behind dropped eyelids, to shut out all of their cheering, their laughter, and their excitement brightened countenances.
He shut them out, and held onto the only wandering thoughts swimming in the mental black abyss he had woven.
Forget pain.
Forget love.
Forget happiness.
Forget everything.
When his body and will yielded completely to dark fatigue, he brought himself to do just that.
Sheer whiteness, he sees scattered across a four-sided plane above him when he retrieved his consciousness from the depths of numbing darkness.
Vast sheer whiteness, actually.
He absorbed its calming effect through his sight, as it slowly dispersed, spreading through the tension holding his muscles hostage from comfort and relaxation.
Hoping to absorb more tranquility from the colorless hue, he allowed his amber orbs to travel down and around the plane.
Only, below and around contrasted greatly from above.
The intense colors of strong, aromatic flowers and get-well-soon posters contaminated and hid the soft whiteness behind their bright glory.
Regardless of all their sincerity, he became disgusted at their strident appeal.
Tiger eyes sought for escape from up above, only to detect at one corner the movement of an intruder.
With stealth, he grabbed his glasses off the hospital nightstand, throwing them on to capture the figure completely within repaired vision.
And the initial quality he detected in the intruder, a brunet with emeralds as eyes bearing a clean and mild aura, was the contrast to his overbearing surroundings.
"Tezuka, you're finally awake!" Exclaiming, he introduced him to the realm within his arms.
Just as he imagined, it was angels' sanctuary---full of tender warmth, indulging comfort and gentle pleasures.
Yet, unfamiliarity of the stranger before him deprived him of enjoyment.
He could not enjoy being held by a stranger.
He especially could not enjoy being held by a stranger sharing his gender.
Pushing him away, he demanded.
"Who are you?"
The other replied with the immediate horror of disbelief smothered upon his face.
"…D-Did you forget me, Tezuka?"
Then his eyebrows sunk after being lifted by surprise, and sadness wove into his expression along with minimal relief.
"You have forgotten… I guess that is good for the both of us…"
"Is that really so?"
Another interrupted, stopping the other's verbal musings from overflowing him with confusion that would quickly turn into exasperation under his personality.
"Fu-Fuji!"
"Ne, do you really think it is best for him to have forgotten you after you've left him so suddenly?"
Shame caught his tongue, freezing his speech.
"That would be too easy for you."
Through the exposure of his rare aquamarine depths, he released a line of sharp icicles in his gaze.
Shoulders sagging and eyes casting to the lowest floors, he offered surrender.
"Fuji, what is going on? Who is he?"
New irritation born from the exchange of the two's dialogue spilled from his mouth, sticking to his inquiry and the tone that demanded an absolute answer.
Fuji, slipping on fox-like mask composed of a pair of mysterious crescent eyes and an enigmatic smile, reassured.
"Oh, just someone who will take care of you from now on."
Intimidation in his voice betrayed its playful quality.
They went back, together, to the apartment.
Now Tezuka's apartment.
Once their apartment.
Swatting away the needless reminder as to avoid attracting more regret and remorse, he diverted the concentration of his energy into the well-being of the other instead.
"I'll make lunch for us." He offered.
He watched his retreating figure.
Oishi knew.
Even after accepting the addition of his presence as a natural habit, he watches him still, at times curious, at times confused, and at times peaceful.
Yet, he never watched him, stabbing hatred into his back.
He should do that.
After all, he was the one who abandoned him…
…For his own good.
He pulled open the refrigerator door.
Staleness-scent attacked his sensitive nostrils immediately, effectively wrinkling it as it scrunched up in slight horror.
Everything had been how he had left them two months ago, at his departure.
He had thoughtfully stocked up the groceries before he left.
Yet, he failed to realize that Tezuka did not know how to cook.
"He is suffering from anemia and over-exhaustion… If he does not receive proper nutrition and enough rest, his conditions could become serious."
The doctor's warning surfaced and replayed itself in his memory.
He closed the door.
Imagining the great adversities his companion endured in his absence became heavy abuse to his already fragile heart.
His vision blurred.
And the once clearly defined kitchen environment became but a random mix of browns and whites and hazy grays.
He serves.
Toss. Smash.
Forget pain.
He serves.
Toss. Smash.
Forget love.
He serves.
Toss. Smash.
Forget happiness.
He serves.
Toss. Smash.
Then, suddenly.
He is waiting for you at home.
He stops.
And the mysterious chanting that occurs whenever he serves stops, too.
He looks around.
The setting of night.
Only the dim artificial lights encompassing the courts saved him from darkness's reign.
But the only place he shall truly be free from the evils and impurities of darkness is his own home.
His home---where the other awaits him with the light of companionship and a gently beaming smile.
Soft lamp lights accepting his arrival, delectable dishes on the dining room table seducing his stomach, and the warmth of home caressing his cool skin---all contributed a part in his pleasant welcoming.
Yet, the missing piece to complete perfection is the sight he lays his eyes upon of the other's slumbering figure on the couch.
His sleeping expression, to him, became the exact epitome of quiet perfection.
He approached this perfection, encouraged by the subtle mood and atmosphere.
Kneeling, he savors the last moment of the untouched piece of artwork before diving in, and disturbing it, but in great care, with his own addition.
He attaches his lips to his, stroking, gliding.
In this new artwork he has created, he can be the prince awakening his sleeping beauty from the curse of eternal sleep.
The cure is given; the effect occurs.
He awakens.
He awakens, as his drowsiness is quickly chased away.
Realization and shock soon replaced drowsiness.
Tezuka was kissing him.
Foggy sleep dressed in a crystalline cloak slid from an eye, running then slowing to a snail-like walk down the plain of his cheek.
He withdrew, almost repelled by the guilt of provoking the other's tears.
"I apologize… I do not know what came over me…"
In a composed yet sincere manner, he offered.
His apology only let loose a raging river.
"Don't apologize," he returned, weakly, leading him into his embrace's warm shelter. "It's my fault… It has always been my fault."
It was my fault for leaving you in the first place.
It was my fault that you've lost your memory of me.
And now, it is my fault that you've fallen for me once again.
Almost on instinct, he returns the other's hug, stroking the back of his head.
And in the deep, tranquil, kind voice Oishi always remembered him using when the two of them were alone, he spoke.
"Do not cry, Oishi."
Remember pain.
Remember love.
Remember happiness.
"It was never your fault."
Authoress's Crap:
I don't know if you noticed that the writing is a bit old and rusty... But anyways, I decided to put this on its own from its length...
Phew, it still feels rushed. Especially that random ending where Tezuka just so suddenly forgives Oishi.
And about the fic.
The short sentences and the "Forget pain, love, and happiness" were all inspiration from Kurione Ami-sama. Ugh, her fics are godly.
Fuji is such a plot-catalyst. I thought so before, I think so now.
And, it is a bit OishixTezuka because Tezuka without his memories of Oishi, I think, was more innocent in a way. He lets down his guard.
And, always, forever, THANK YOU, for reading.