Cipher

(AU, OT3 Tezuka/Fuji/Atobe, Bus Gamer Tribute) A dangerous game entwines the fates of a stoic insomniac, a helplessly bewitching boy, and an egotistical brat. "So...what kind of flowers do you want on your grave?"

Disclaimers: I don't own Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Oujisama or Bus Gamer. Each of these wickedly awesome animes are properties of Konomi Takeshi and Minekura Kazuya respectively.

A/N: I found the Bus Gamer anime the other day and was pissed as you wouldn't believe when I found out that it only had a measly 3 EPISODES! -sobs- It has so much potential! So I couldn't pass up the chance to expand on the concept in the wonderful, bishounen world of PoT with a few supporting characters borrowed from Bus Gamer, namely Yanagida, and Detective Ichinomiya, who comes in later. Not to mention that the voice actors of Atobe and Kikumaru were also seiyuus in Bus Gamer...xD Hope you enjoy!

EDIT NOTE: This was written waay back in March, but the first chapter was dragged out a long time and was only recently finished. I was proud of it though, but updates will probably be very sparse for this story, since it's a complicated storyline.


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01

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Because he was just that kind of person, a lot of people bragged to themselves and others that they knew Fuji Syusuke. His charming smile and bright blue eyes chastised everyone into submission. At just sixteen, even Fuji himself thought that the ability was a little far fetched. Girls lined up just to ogle, and they all claimed they knew him, but of course, preciously few—if anyone at all knew.

The smile, faint and tender, hid everything, so that was why. The eyes, so brilliant with a million shades of azure, gave away nothing.

Fuji Syusuke smiled his charming smile and disengaged the two girls hanging on his arms. "Sorry Hikaru-chan, Mio-san, I forgot, I have an orthodontist appointment today. Maybe we can get together next time?"

They were not happy, and of course they had all the rights to be; this trip had been planned over two months ago. Supposedly, though the theory was never proven right or wrong, Mio and Hikaru believed that Fuji had impeccable fashion sense and thus he was recruited to help them pick out prom dresses at the mall (even though the prom was still six months away).

"But...Fuji-kun--"

Fuji sighed, though his smile stayed. "I promise I'll go next week Tuesday. I'll skip chess club and go."

"Really?"

"Really." He nodded. "Even if Ryuzaki-sensei throws a fit."

They were happy again. Both of them kissed him on the cheek to bid him good-bye and skipped off to the train station. Usually Fuji walked with them, but today he wanted air. Some time alone. So he sent them off with another gracious smile when their backs were turned.

He had perfect teeth.

-

The envelope was was wrapped in a black plastic bag, something you didn't see everyday. It was generously stuffed with all sorts of papers, most of which Fuji ignored until he came to a small business card.

Thursday, June 6, 4:00 pm

Noyogami Hotel and Suites

Suite 1006

2012 Kayuga Ct.

Tokyo, Japan

He stared at it for a very long time, twiddling the card absently between his fingers as he curled up on his bed. There were holes in the wall, and cicadas filled in the cracks. When Fuji found time between work and school, he made an effort to patch up what he could, but without proper care, without Yumiko, the apartment was practically destined for rotting.

Fuji sat up and shook the wisps of dust from his hair, it was getting to be four. Maybe he would have time to drop by the hospital before it was time to go.

-

Please note that we cannot guarantee, nor do we hold responsibility for the game's participants.

At the age of twenty, when fools were fools, Tezuka Kunimitsu was a rare find—one of a kind in the world that he unfortunately knew all too well. Right now, it was a Thursday afternoon, and the bar was near empty, leaving him with plenty of dirty champagne glasses to clean from the night before, and plenty of time to think.

The envelope had arrived a few weeks before, and it had been buried under piles of unpaid bills until a few days ago when Inui had unearthed the envelope sealed in plastic.

"You should probably throw this away. It looks dangerous."

As Tezuka wiped the last glass clean with a thick cloth, he wondered if he should have listened. Listening to Inui, while sometimes every bit as dangerous, had its own benefits. Perhaps if he had had the willingness to listen, he wouldn't have had to nurse this headache of massive proportions, or perhaps it was just the smoke.

Now that Tezuka really thought about it, he was very inept when it came to tending bar, the smoke made his eyes blurry, and when the bouncers were out cold (which was most times) it fell to him to keep the peace...not that he couldn't, but it was certainly not a hobby.

Drying the final glass and putting it away with a decisive clink, Tezuka let out a small sigh and rubbed his eyes. He had hidden the wad of paper in his wallet and now, since there was no one around, he got out the scrap of paper, and the card. The scrap of paper only contained the small print, since he had been in a hurry earlier.

'Please note that we cannot guarantee, nor do we hold responsibility for the game's participants.' was highlighted in bright yellow.

Bright yellow told Tezuka to be very careful. Bright yellow adorned passages of his textbooks that he had trouble memorizing.

"Hey kid, I want another drink. Make it hard." A growl cut through his thoughts and Tezuka quickly cleared the counter of the card and paper. He raised his eyes to meet a face of a regular drunkard carrying maybe twenty pounds too many. Tezuka wondered if he should throw this man out; he looked the type to get rowdy.

But the man plunked down a few coins and Tezuka gave him a hard look before getting an empty glass from the cabinet.

When the man had his drink, he ambled away from the counter, not quite steady, and Tezuka watched him.

Today was Thursday, June 6. A glance at his watch told Tezuka it was barely fifteen past two. Good, he still had time to figure out exactly what, or rather what not to do.

-

Atobe Keigo was twenty-three, fresh out of college, undeniably wealthy, devastatingly good-looking, and in all kinds of trouble. Of course no one knew he was. Not his father, who was currently stationed in France with three mistresses, if not more. Not his mother, who was somewhere; Atobe hadn't the idea where exactly, and he had no inclination to change that. Most of all, certainly not the women and the men that shared his bed, they all thought he was a spoiled brat that got a kick out of paying all manners of people to spend the night.

He didn't mind that they thought that, although it did get a little irritating at times. Most times, however, Atobe worked the misconceptions to his advantage.

Right now, it was the afternoon, and he woke, with...what was her name? Aki? Maki?--draped over him like a blanket. Atobe stayed very still and concentrated on the way her warm breath tickled his ear until she stirred.

He said, "Morning, did I wake you?"

She yawned and rolled off of him, wearing only his t-shirt. The fact that she wore so little didn't faze her, this woman was a lot like him. She shook her head and smiled at him, beautiful, even though her makeup was smudged. "No, Keigo."

Atobe said nothing after that, he didn't want to say her name, for fear that he would say the wrong name. When he sat up a few minutes later and rubbed sleep out of his eyes, he remembered the beers in the trash and groaned. He was wealthy, yes, and he had a housekeeper, but the twit only came on weekends.

"Ne, Keigo."

"Yes?"

"Are you...doing anything later?"

He looked over at her again, now that her face wasn't caked in well-applied makeup, Atobe almost felt panicky. If his memory served him correctly, she had looked ten years younger last night. Atobe hauled himself up and wondered if the woman was married, if she was that old, if she was...

"What's today?" He asked vaguely, Atobe lit a cigarette to keep his hands busy.

"Today...?" She drowsed slowly, "It's Thursday, I think. You shouldn't smoke so much. It ruins your skin, Keigo."

He shrugged one shoulder, and then he rolled over to the edge of the bed and rummaged in a drawer for a few moments before he found what he was looking for.

Thursday, June 6, 4:00 pm

Noyogami Hotel and Suites

Suite 1006

2012 Kayuga Ave.

Tokyo, Japan

Atobe didn't hesitate to admit that he was relieved. He replaced the card and sat up. "I have to go somewhere later. I'd appreciate it if you didn't sound like my mother."

She opened her mouth and then closed it. Instead, she began to get dressed, Atobe closed his eyes and lay back. When he opened them again, she was dressed and he noticed a gold band on her finger.

"Is that a wedding ring?"

"It used to be." She picked up her purse, swept back her hair, and then turned to face him, "I'll be going now."

"Aa. Good bye, Aki." Shot in the dark.

"My name is Yuki." As expected, Yuki did not sound pleased. His door slammed, and Atobe heard something shatter. Maybe a vase.

Atobe just smirked and lit another cigarette.

-

Tezuka had never been to Noyogami Hotel and Suites. Which was just as well, going there evoked all things useless. He'd never even been out of the country, what use did he have for some overpriced hotel suite?

For a moment, he stood outside of the bar momentarily at a loss. He had ended his shift thirty minutes early with a promise that he would return just as early for his night shift. To his knowledge, Kaguya Avenue was two blocks away and on foot, thirty minutes gave him just enough time not to hurry.

Still, as he crossed the street, invisible in the sea of other pedestrians, Inui's warning echoed threateningly in his head.

"You should probably throw this away. It looks dangerous."

Tezuka shrugged off the thought. It was too late, and on the other hand, it was easy for Inui to say, he was the one with all the money.

-

For Fuji, getting to Noyogami Hotel and Suites was a dangerous excursion. It once only required a short ride by car, but nowadays, car rides were no longer an available luxury. The way he saw it, getting to the hotel required half a block by foot, two bus rides, and it didn't hurt to throw in an extra half an hour for the unexpected.

He wore clean jeans for the occasion, and a dress shirt that he had found, and after several tries, learned how to iron. Of course he could have shown up in his school uniform, but that risked telling everyone just how young he was. In this world, it didn't pay to be young.

He dozed on the second bus, until a rough hand clasped his shoulder and shook him roughly. Fuji opened one eye and yawned.

The meaty face of the bus driver was inches away, Fuji smelled the familiar scent of cigarette smoke. "Noyogami Hotel is down the street from here." The man's voice was raspy from smoke.

Fuji got up, and even if he didn't want to, smiled at the driver, "Okay, thank you."

-

Parking cost a thousand yen, not that money was a problem, but still...Atobe handed the bill over and felt an unfamiliar tugging at his chest. Usually, money flowed through his fingers like water, he'd never had a problem.

Somehow, he had a bad feeling about this, as he edged his car of two years into a spot, it was a nicely customized European job, way back in the days when his father still remembered that he had a son. So if only for that, Atobe kept it.

It was not a busy afternoon, the lobby was deserted, and even though Atobe knew he dressed like a delinquent that was up to no good, he still was of the rare, refined variety. After sweet-talking to the bubbly thing behind the counter, he was able to gather that Suite 1006 was on the seventh floor.

He graced her with a delicate squeeze of her hand before walking towards the elevators, leaving her with a very red face.

-

Tezuka made an effort to be early to whatever appointment he had the misfortune to make, and now as he stood in the empty sitting room of Suite 1006, he wondered if it really was a misfortune. He took a seat, gingerly on an empty armchair. On the coffee table not too far away were three mugs. Tezuka took one and sipped, and then stopped. Bitter black coffee. He was about to reach for a packet of cream when the door opened.

Tezuka drew back instinctively and raised his eyes to meet a gaze that was much too blue. He put the packet down.

The eyes belonged to be a boy, a boy who seemed to Tezuka just barely old enough to be out and about on his own without proper supervision. The boy seemed altogether undaunted by his stare and just shrugged one shoulder and offered him a vague smile before taking a seat in another armchair across the table.

All of the sudden, Tezuka wondered if he should feel threatened by the appearance of this strange boy. He turned back to his cup of coffee and tore a careful slit in the cream packet and dumped everything in. The white mound dissolved...slowly. Staring at it made him forget about the boy.

But when the mound was gone, Tezuka took to staring at his hands. He looked up only once to note that the boy was holding his own mug, but as far as Tezuka could tell, he hadn't taken a sip, which was good, coffee was a bad habit.

Which only left only one steaming cup of coffee untouched on the table. Tezuka looked at it, and had a feeling that the boy was too. Again, uneasiness took over and he was grateful the coffee burned.

Then the door opened, and Tezuka waited a moment before he raised his eyes. This time, his eyes met a hard metallic gaze, worlds apart from the boy's gentle azure. The newcomer wore lots of expensive looking rings. He also smoked, by the smell of it, excessively.

The newcomer took the couch, and the final cup.

Tezuka took another careful sip of his coffee.

-

In another suite not too far away, sat two men in drab gray suits and an old television that projected a black and white image of what was going on in the fated Suite 1006.

"Forgive me for saying, but it looked like you just picked random hoodlums off the street and dragged them here." Sakaki Tarou considered himself a grounded realist.

The other man, Yanagida only offered an eloquent shrug, "Maybe they are. But of the hundreds of applications we received, these three--" he waved at the screen, "--were the only ones who were smart enough to leave the reason they needed a billion dollars blank. Atobe Keigo, Tezuka Kunimitsu, Fuji Syusuke." He stood, "These are three desperate young people who need a tremendous amount of money. I just thought that was a splendid common feature."

Sakaki said nothing.

"Come on now, we don't want to keep them waiting. It's already five past."

-

Suddenly, Atobe knew with dire certainty where the bad feeling had come from. It came from the other two people in the room, he did not know their names, and well, to be accurate, he knew absolutely nothing about them, but he still had the bad feeling. The guy on his right was just a kid! Worse, a kid with a pretty face. The guy on his left was a prude. Worse, a prude with a pretty face.

Atobe sighed and took a long, slow drag of his cigarette and blew gray wisps towards the ceiling.

"I think this is a non-smoking suite, oniisan."

Atobe snapped his head instinctively to the left, only to find an expressionless face. Then he turned to the right, where the kid was smiling at him. Kids weren't supposed to smile like that.

His first instinct was to protest, after all, he had only lit this joint just outside to calm his nerves some. Having been told by a kid with a freaky smile that he couldn't smoke in a non-smoking suite did nothing for his nerves. But that freaky smile...Atobe only rolled his eyes and stamped out the cigarette as requested, it was going to leave a burn on the carpet, but that was none of his business.

"Thank you, oniisan."

It was kids like him, that Atobe was thankful that his parents only attempted reproduction once. He took a sip of bitter coffee. It tasted distinctly Italian.

"They're late."

Tezuka spoke for the first time, and he didn't like how the other two looked alarmed, as if his presence hadn't been duly noted.

The boy said, "What time is it?"

Tezuka looked at his watch, "It's 4:10, just about." Which led him to wonder if the whole thing was a fluke, like the way Inui was positive it was.

The boy only nodded, "Oh."

Silence reigned once more, Tezuka noted that the man was growing restless on the couch, he looked like he wanted—needed another smoke. Tezuka sincerely hoped he wouldn't, and he secretly applauded the boy for his earlier reproach. Still, this didn't make the situation any less awkward.

All three of them started when the door opened, and two men entered, wearing almost identical suits. Fuji curled up on his armchair and hugged his knees tightly to himself and watched them. Almost identical because he realized he was afraid of one and not the other.

They both carried very large briefcases like the ones he saw on television.

"Pardon us for our lateness, gentlemen." Said the man wearing glasses, he had a voice like silky water, "But there were some technical difficulties. Now that we're all here, I think it's in our best interests that we get started."