Summary: Syusuke Fuji merely remains silent as the terrible news is cast over him, taking him by surprise. Dead, a dear friend. Shock. Sadness. Yet why don't tears come dribbling down?

Dedication: To my wonderful, beloved, late piano teacher. Blessed.

Notes: If anybody has wondered where my story "For the Moment" has gone, you can ponder, but please don't ask about it. I've had other accounts here on ff.net in which I haven't updated stories for over a year, that I still need to update . . . . but I am depressed now. Losing my puppy and my piano teacher of late are not pleasant experiences, so 'tis the time of mourning. I won't feel motivated to write again for a while, probably.

NOTICE: BETAREADER to read this would be nice. Send me criticisms and I'll fix up everything. Revision will be in approximately a week.

Italics: memories :: Bold: dream sequences

painted in blood red

"No, I'm not afraid of it. Why?"

The sirens cut in, veering loudly, with brilliant flashes of red. There has been an accident perhaps. Probably. It is dangerous to be out on the streets in such heavy downpour. Yet he loves rain to death. He likes the way it smells, the way it trickles down his body with its coldness, its grey drops. He loves the rain for reasons unknown to him. It gives him a bittersweet feeling, for he knows only a better day may come from it. After the rain everything is always fresh and cleansed. Yes, it is a good feeling.

But today it has a foreboding feeling. He does not understand that.

"Have you ever felt that it's near?"

"Maybe."

He has recently dreamt of such foreboding dreams, with red blood everywhere. Yet he does not fear it for he knows it is not for him. He only understands a nothingness that can be held only in dreams. He has dreamt of a death, perhaps many. It does not make him nauseous. Except that every time he wakes up, he can hear a familiar voice calling to him: Goodbye Fuji-san. Yet the voice, in those words, is so unfamiliar. Goodbye. Have a sweet dream. And that phrase feels like an irony in itself.

He shifts at his desk, watching the rain with amazing azure eyes. He takes a glance at the ambulance, but quickly looks back at the pouring sky, the dark sky. It feels as if the Gods are crying, he muses with a forced smile, thinking it does not feel right.

A funny look: "Are you ever afraid, Fuji?"

"No." A straight out lie, but he's used to it.

Hesitantly he takes out his cell phone, with a sudden wave of nausea. He feels the urge to call his captain, to make sure his captain is all right. He waves this feeling away, dismissing it as obsession. He cannot get the sick feeling out of his stomach. He wants to kneel down and throw up, sick as a dog. But he cannot. He has not eaten yet for that day. He is waiting for a call from his captain. He is waiting.

"Really?"

"Really."

He folds his hands, setting his chin upon the desk. He lazily sprawls out, with sadness evading his misty eyes. His heart flutters, but he ignores it. He watches the rain again, listening carefully. The sounds caress his heart, softly rocking him to a light sleep. The pitter and patter are like music to his ears, his heart synchronizing with the tranquility and grace of it. He softly sleeps, like a cat napping in a tree. (1) He wishes to dream pleasant dreams, where he can set himself free to fly away from the hardships of life.

But he is called away from his pleasant dreams to a darker, danker dream.

He walks out onto a flat street, feeling like a phantom. He watches the car and people pass by, but nobody seems to take notice of him. He accidentally walks out into the street, but the car passes right through him. He is amazed, but then he checks himself: It is a dream, after all. He walks, wanders, until a commotion catches his keen eye. There are people gathered all around, with expressions of horror. There are cars with bright sirens, and policemen to keep the situation under control.

"Who is he?"

"He doesn't look very old!"

Syusuke tries to push his way in, but realizes in a silly way that he is merely a phantom.

"He's a high school student, isn't he?"

"So sad he was hit by the car."

"He was saving that child there! Such a heroic act! I hope he lives!"

Two nurses lift him into a stretcher, a man, Syusuke can tell. He moves closer, in curiosity, but he feels anxiety in his stomach.

A policeman charges the irresponsible driver, lectures him, and examines the bag. A tennis bag. A feeling of fear hit Syusuke. It is like the very bag that his captain carries about. The policeman opens up the pocket, opens up a wallet - a wallet with worn leather, finely made - and reads aloud: "Tezuka Kunimitsu, Seishun Gakuen."

Terror strikes Syusuke. He catches up, climbing into the ambulance. "Tezuka, Tezuka!" he cries with a lump in his throat. He feels as if he cannot speak. He tries again, hoarsely, crying. He sinks upon the white sheets stained by crimson, trying to make his voice work, but he cannot hear himself speak up.

Kunimitsu stirs, and softly says, "Goodbye Fuji-san. Goodbye. Have a sweet dream."

Syusuke is horrified, covers his mouth as he screams aloud. He trembles, sweats heavily . . . . This cannot be true. But 'tis only a dream, right?

. . . . . . Syusuke . . . . .

Syusuke . . . . . wake up . . . . . . . .

Wide-awake, trembling in terror, he lays his eyes upon his older sister, Yumiko. "Yumiko-neesan . . ." he begins with a dry mouth. He feels a sense of dread, by the serious face his sister gives him.

"There's . . . something that you must know now," she says with heavy uncertainty, leading her younger brother to the doorframe. "They came just now, and . . . . I hope you'll stay strong, Syusuke."

He gives a small smile, forced, and nods. He tries to decipher what she means, but the turmoil inside him does not let him do so. He walks to the door. It feels like an eternity has passed by the time he gets there. He nods, "Yes?"

There are two policemen at the door, with sober faces. They do not like this part of their job, telling the bad news. It always makes them look bad to friends and family members. They have been requested by Tezuka-ojiisan (2) to tell this boy, for none of the family can bear the pain. "Something bad has happened," they start haltingly. They are intimidated by the ever-smiling face the younger boy shows. "And . . . it has to do with . . . the tennis captain. He was . . . he tried to save a little girl, who's really quite safe now, in the heavy traffic and with all the rain. I'm . . surprise that he got to her . . . . And, well, he . . . was hit by . . . a car . . . He is in a coma . . . We have not received news about him, but . . . . . we wish . . . that . . . . ."

But the point after what the policemen have told him of Kunimitsu being hit by a car, everything is a blurb. He feels shocked, as he withdraws to the staircase banister and sluggishly moves up the stairs, stumbling slightly, shivering slightly, trembling slightly. He can barely hear his sister apologizing for him for the way he has acted, and the close of the door. He stumbles into his room, falling upon his bed and shivering. He has never felt so cold or empty in his life. He has never felt like this before. He huddles in himself, feeling so guilty, as if he has brought upon this death. He wants to cry, but nothing will come out.

"Are you sure, you aren't afraid of anything?"

"Absolutely. I'm not afraid of death. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Hn . . ."

And he stays like that for a week.

He refuses to come out into the world, the biting world. He's afraid for once. He refuses the comforting hand of his sister, the hand that gentle caresses him with love and sympathy. He refuses food. He stays curled up in that small ball for a week, one whole week. He knows what is waiting for him at the end of the tunnel he travels, and he does not want to see it.

At the end of the week he receives another call, in person by his co-captain (3), who begs him to come back to school and live normally.

"Fuji, please. Tezuka wouldn't want this. There's a great chance that he will live and . . ." he desperately begs, as he lies straight through his teeth. The painful truth is that once Kunimitsu is cut off from life-support, he will undoubtedly die. Yet he does not want Syusuke to waste away. "Please."

Syusuke feels some guilt, but an even deeper pain in his heart, as he can tell that his co-captain is lying. "You're lying," he painfully accuses, with a harsh voice from the beast within himself. "He won't come back, and you know that as well as I do - even better!" he shouts desperately. The tears still don't come.

He is in a complete mess. His hair has come furled, tangled, and matted down. His clothes are wrinkled, not changed for a week's time.

"I'm sorry," he says, trying to take back his harsh words. "You must be feeling more pain. Fine, I'll go to school, if that's what Tezuka would really want." He laughs, somewhat in a twisted, pained way. He looks away, and sees the sun streaming in through his window. He wants to break the glass, scream, kill himself. . .

So this visitor returns home, feeling a bit better. And Syusuke takes a long-needed shower, puts on the glorious, warm smile, and sits down to eat supper with his family. He receives worried looks from his mother, who is rarely at home but away at work. He receives concerned looks from his sister and his brother, who drops by now and again. Everybody is worried, but he puts on his usual smile, conceals his wretched heart. He comments, "This is good," just for the act.

"Are you . . all right?"

"Yes. Absolutely fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you sure?"

That voice reminds him of that person, a nostalgic, faraway feeling. He smiles painfully. "Yes, I'm sure." It's alright for him to lie through his teeth. He doesn't care anymore about sins, for all he wants to do is cry curled up in bed and waste away. "Yes." He feels wetness come to his eyes, a lump to his throat. He replies hoarsely, "May I be excused?" and hurries off upstairs, to huddle in a corner and gaze painfully up at the stars. He muses, It is the sky that Tezuka used to look at. He feels remorse. He chokes out a strangled cry, strangled by his own being. Still no tears may come to glisten gently down his cheeks. He can only look up fearfully, in fear of waking up and seeing the nothingness in his life - what his life has become.

"Where are you Tezuka?" he whispers. He huddles closer to his blankets, sets his alarm clock at six, and falls to sleep in his own troubles. He drowns in his troubles, but this time his dream is not half as bad, for he sees a precious person in his dream, smiling peacefully.

Sheer white, the whole room.

Carefully waxed white tiles are laid across the room. The window shines in brilliance as white sunshine streams in. Pure white curtains are hung across the clear window. The bed, so silver and white, shining and sparkling in its simple color.

"Hello?" Syusuke calls out, with keen eyes. He even wears so white clothes.

"Hello."

Syusuke floats across the room, to the attached room, where in a rocking chair his captain sits with a pleasant smile on his face. Kind eyes set themselves upon the fair-haired youth, twinkling in amusement. He begins, "Where . . ?" but his captain hushes him.

"Wouldn't it be better for you not to ask?"

Syusuke thinks for a moment, for the better of it, and nods defeated. "Yes," he sounds off, giving a warm smile to the other. "Thank you. And welcome home, if it can be called so." He keeps smiling, happy to see his captain in such a clear way. His heart rejoices, even though he knows that this is not reality. It is enough, perhaps, to see that image, the steady and perseverant captain. That image enough is comforting, a comforting fact to him. Without him . . . No, it is better not to think of that. So they are in each other's silence, enjoying each other's company.

*BEEP* . . . . . . *BEEEEEP*

He tries to speak one last time, "Are you an angel?"

He cannot hear the answer.

He wakes up immediately, from the comforting but horrifying dream. He gasps, hurriedly changes into school clothing. His pajamas are drenched in sweat. He hurries down the stairs, takes his lunch, and sets off for school. He wants to collapse, to visit Kunimitsu, but . . . . there is much holding him back from doing just that. He trembles as he walks, afraid to set foot into school, afraid to see school knowing that his captain will never come back. Yet he puts his smile on, puts one foot in front of the other, and continues walking. He enters the gates of the school, feeling the terror of it all coming back in a swirl, like the downside of ecstasy-highs. He walks near the tennis courts, cocking his head slightly. He feels regretful that he has promised to come to school to his co-captain Syuichiro. He wants to turn back but he is no coward.

He feels all eyes on him, but shrugs that off and greets everybody with a smile, "Ohisashiburi ne." (4)

His co-captain is the first to speak. He says, "Are you . . . okay?"

"Are you okay?"

His heart aches, but he nonchalantly answers, "Yes, I'm fine," just like that time with his captain, when he shivered so violently . . . . It has always been the same. He feels himself trembling, as he says reassuringly, "I'm perfectly fine," but they can see clearly he is not. They are shaken to see their prodigy so out-of-place and frightened. He grits his teeth, getting a hold on himself, and stops his trembling hands. He is scared again, with the captain not being by his side, with such little hope that his captain will return. He holds no hope for a return, for it is pointless for his captain to be hooked to life support forever, simply wasting away . . . . He inwardly pouts, chokes, but keeps a strong image on the outside. He speaks up, "Are we going to practice or not?" in great discomfort from all the undivided attention (5).

Syuichiro is first to react, as co-captain. He orders, "Get changed and stretch!"

"Fuji, are you sure you're alright?" asks Eiji, one of his closest and precious friends.

He seems to sound just like Kunimitsu to Syusuke, bringing un-cried tears to his eyes. His heart pounds heavily, and he crackles in an uncertain voice, "Yeah." And he adds for good measure, "When I say I'm fine, then I'm fine." He pacifies himself, calming his heartbeat and tremors. He suddenly remembers the date: October 07. Has he really been hiding that long? No, but it is his captain's birthday, such a sad one at that. He uncomfortably changes, with a saddened, blank face. He shivers, warms himself, but this cold is not from the wind; the sun shines down on him, but he is cold inside. He feels like crying.

He walks through the day, emotionlessly, feeling like a doll. He feels empty and this dreading emotion emits from the pit of his stomach, in fear and apprehension. And this is how he carries himself, for a whole week longer, until his family decides to cut Kunimitsu from life, on October 14, at exactly three o' clock in the afternoon. And he has dreamed many dreams, continuing the silence in the white, white room, always ending the same and starting the same. Until he is bidden goodbye once and for all, by a paralyzed Kunimitsu.

"Is it a sin to commit a crime?"

"Not necessarily. Why do you ask, Tezuka?"

"Do you believe in God?"

"Yes and no."

"What do you mean?"

"Religion is only something for people to sought out, to have hope for, to live for. So yes. Then no, because I think we decide our own fates. So it is not sin to commit a crime unless it violates your own moral codes." A long ramble from the chatterbox Syusuke.

"I see."

"Really?"

He attends the funeral, respectively. He is still shocked, for he has not yet shed tears, while even all others have. He has become isolated. He ruins himself, hardening his heart. He tries not to feel anything. He swears to himself to not form strong alliances again. He aches. He lets out a muffled cry, that attracts the worried glances of his teammates. They wonder for Syusuke, if Syusuke is really alright with this. Syusuke has always been close to the captain, always by their captain's side. But Syusuke is the first to leave that day.

Syusuke does not re-visit the gravesite once again until the New Years, dragged along by the hyperactive Eiji and the more serious Syuichiro.

"I'm sure that he's listening in on this conversation right now, Fuji. He wants us all to be happy, you know," says the co-captain. No, he has not become captain. Nobody dares to bring up the subject, in fear of Syusuke's wrath. Change is not welcome.

Syusuke has been coping alone, all this time, strangling his cries until they cannot be heard. He feels as if he is breaking under the words of his co-captain. "I know," he replies nonchalantly, his voice cracking. He laughs. "I've been very naughty, haven't I?" he remarks in a childish way, with crazy eyes. "I'm clearly still in the denial stage of accepting his death," he bitterly states, looking away. It begins to snow, with pure white snowflakes dancing down from the heavens. He says finally in the silence, "I used to dream."

Syuichiro looks somewhat uneasy, knowing that the other youth is mainly speaking to Eiji.

"It's okay for you to go, you know," Syusuke tells Syuichiro rather rudely but in a straightforward manner. Syuichiro slips away, leaving it to Eiji.

"It's alright to let it out now," Eiji blurts out, reddening. "Er, I mean . . ."

"Yeah, I know."

"You used to dream?"

A nod. "I did."

"Oh. About what?"

"Lots of things."

Eiji raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"I dreamt about his death. I didn't know it at first . . . . and . . . . . and . . . . . . . ."

"Did you dream about captain?"

Syusuke looks a bit away, "Perhaps. It's all a blur now."

"Have you cried?"

"No."

"Do you miss him?"

"Yes."

A gap of silence stretches across them. At last Syusuke puts this to an end, on the initiative at last, willing to speak.

"I miss him. Don't you? I mean . . . he was our captain and all . . . still is our captain and . . . I dreamt about his death and I didn't know it at first and I only got this foreboding feeling about it all. I couldn't stop the dreams from coming and on the day of the crash I could see it clearly for the first time, so clearly, all that blood and I could see the girl he saved. I try to hate that little girl but . . . . it's no use. I . . . I . . . . . found out that I couldn't be happy any longer. I knew that he was going to die. He said goodbye to me and told me to pass the word that we must reach the finals and . . . . well, like the normal captain and . . . . . . and in the end I would always ask a same question but I can never hear his answer and . . . it feels as if the past, present, and future have collided for me.

"When he was really gone, it hit me that I was absolutely hopeless no matter what. I wanted to kill myself but I could never bring myself to do it because . . . . . they stopped me. And in the end I would always crawl back to bed, no tears or anything. I could only feel cold every night, staring out at the red moon. I could only think that he looked at that same sky when he was alive and . . . now I realize dearly how precious our captain was . . . . and . . . . I really can't do much now. I don't cry. It won't help. I can't shed a tear if I want and . . . . . .

"It's snowing. It's white, just like that room. You know, I always liked rain before this whole incident. I . . . . loved it because it was this whole bittersweet feeling. It's something you can't miss out on and . . . after the accident, I felt phobic of everything. I tried to stop myself, from liking things from disliking. I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to get hurt again, so I tried to withdraw. I quit tennis. I quit a lot of things. I think I regret it. I don't know anymore. I think I need help. I'm so confused."

He smiles thinly after his long ramble. "Sorry."

" 'It's alright to cry,'" he answers, "that's what Tezuka would say."

 He kneels at the headstone, placing red roses there, as English tradition. He is a bit queer in that aspect.

"I think that Tezuka is reaching out to us, in this snow," Eiji continues, with a bright smile. " 'It's time to recover,' he's saying that, I'm sure . . ." (6)

"Eiji, thanks."

"You're welcome."

Syusuke relaxes. He lets out a deep breath. A snowdrop falls onto his cheek, running down like a tear.

And Eiji painfully watches his friend breakdown, still smiling and trembling, but crying ever so sadly. He wants to reach out and comfort him but . . . . .

"I think . . . we all loved him," Syusuke finally stated in a stronger voice than before.

"Yes, we did."

Eiji quietly leaves, feeling that Syusuke needs time to heal himself. (7)

Syusuke lets his tears overwhelm him, the tears he has stopped for over three months, that keep flowing down his cheeks. "Yes, my dear captain, we loved you. We love you. I love you." (8)

And that night when he returns he seems to be smiling brighter than ever. His family can feel that and are relieved. And he whispers at night, "Goodnight Tezuka."

He sleeps well that night, for once in a long, long time.

He knows his captain will continue standing by his side.

He knows his captain is always watching him.

He is content.

IMPORTANT: There is a Chinese character in "Kunimitsu" which is "HIKARI" or "LIGHT" which implies white, thus the white room, the snow . . etc. If you didn't catch that, shame on you.

Started 151203

Completed 171203

Revised ??

Notes:

(1) – I like the idea of catnaps.

(2) – I've heard that Kunimitsu's grandfather is a part of the police department, teaching them old dojo stuff.

(3) – i.m.o., it sounds better as co-captain than vice-captain.

(4) – Ohisashiburi has the same meaning of . . similar meaning to "Long time no see".

(5) – I really don't understand that phrase, "undivided attention". My teachers always have always said "let me have your undivided attention!" in impatience and . . .

(6) – Is Eiji a little out of character here? I'm sorry if he is.

(7) – I wanted to put "alone-time" there, but it's unprofessional, though it sounds a bit like Eiji to me.

(8) – This is not meant in a romantic way. It is a statement of . . . brotherly-friendly love. Got me? Yeah, you got the feeling.

Afterthoughts: I got really rushed in the second half it seems. This is the most mind-wracking story I have EVER written. Too much angst and pressure upon myself from the expectancy that I think people will have when they begin reading this. I went to my piano teacher's service today . . . . It lacks the detail and it is in present tense. Vague, but I think it adds to the effect. YOU tell ME what you think about the style I've written it in. That would cheer me. :)