Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Title: Light on Water
Author/Artist: MoonlitAffairs (Kyoka)
Theme(s): #10-Suicide
Pairings: TezukaxFuji, and if you really, really squint you can see some light, unrequited ShuusukexYuuta
Characters: Tezuka Kunimitsu, Fuji Shuusuke
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character deathAlternate Universe (:D), Suicide?
Disclaimer/claimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to the manga-ka, Konomi Takeshi. All characters are otherwise disclaimed. This fiction is written for purely entertainment. It will not be used in any other way. Thank you, Konomi Takeshi!
Summary: Love is built on stages of its firsts, but at some time, there also has to come the lasts. Written for Livejournal 30 deathfics.
Word Count: 2,106

Light on Water

They were young boys.

Only playing around, really.

There was no reason that this should have come to this.

Fuji and Tezuka had met when they were five, at a playground near the park. Tezuka was alone, but Fuji had his mother with him, and the boy had tugged off from her watchful eye when he spotted Tezuka sitting alone on the park swings.

That had been their first meeting.

There was no reason that a simple friendship should have led to such a thing.

They had exchanged greetings, and Fuji's smile was as wide as ever, his form blending into the background of the trees and outline of a metropolitan area. The area cleared up, and focused like a photograph. That photograph had been of Fuji.

"Kunimitsu-kun and I are going to be together forever!" That was the first vow that Fuji had made towards him when they were six years old, a few years before they began referring to each other by the family names instead. Fuji, as a young boy liked to grab Tezuka's hands and hold them close to his chest. "You want to be together forever, right?"

Tezuka hadn't answered.

They had held hands in a carefree manner one day, though both seemed slightly uneasy about it. That had been when they were eight. Fuji's parents brought him on a ski trip over their break, and Tezuka had been invited along. The handholding had been against the stark white, winter background, in which Fuji and Tezuka's skin had been a light burst of color to a surrounding satin white. "Let's go skiing!" Fuji clung tighter to Tezuka's hand and pulled him along.

"Only playing around," though, turned into something far more serious. They had shared their first kiss under the cherry blossom tree, while the petals fluttered around them. Tezuka clearly remembered that day. That day, a gentle sea of pink had framed Fuji's face. It was a lovely picture, really.

Tezuka remembered their age well, then. It was their first week in their new middle school. They were twelve back then.

Time had passed between those firsts.

Other memories were shifting colors, changing against the forever-unstable background. The sketchy details were recorded in his mind, and he remembered them. Tezuka remembered his encounters with Fuji best, though.

The time passed for a long time, and nothing happened of their relationship, though Tezuka never really forgot about that kiss.

Their next had been exactly a day before they were to graduate high school.

Only two days later, Fuji invited Tezuka over to his house to stay the night, to reminisce about the past year of school.

That night, not even a week after second kiss, Tezuka pinned Fuji to the ground and showed a passion he hadn't even known to possess. Fuji returned it whole-heartedly.

Every so often, Fuji liked to walk along the beach in the dead of night, and three days later, after a rather intimate encounter he had decided to invite Tezuka along on the walks. However, it seemed that he had expected Tezuka to follow him out. When he knocked on the door to Fuji's home, Fuji Yoshiko had answered and informed him that Fuji wasn't able to come outside. She was always such a kind woman, but now she hinted for him to head for home.

The birds twittered and fluttered along the summer trees. The gray concrete met the little nature in the outskirt of town quickly, unexpected. Tezuka made his decisions and ventured away from the familiar gray concrete.

Tezuka hadn't followed that Fuji's mother had given him. He went to the beach, and there was Fuji, watching as a floating candle was carried off to sea. Fuji sent off another one, and in the sunset they glowed as beautiful lights on the water, They were sparkling lights on the water when the sun set, gently evading all waves that came in the direction of them.

After a few minutes, they sparkled like gleaming fireflies among the dark, calm sea.

"They're candles, to remember those who died." It wasn't a very Japanese tradition. Fuji probably got it from somewhere else. Why he thought it was best to send them out to sea was beyond Tezuka. They stood in close proximity to each other, and Tezuka was able to smell both the unique scent of Fuji, and the distinct scent of saltwater. They mingled nicely, laced together like the moon and the stars sparking above.

"Who has died?" Tezuka asked.

"One candle was for my father, and one was for Yuuta." Tezuka remembered that Fuji had told him about Yuuta once, with a sort of fondness in his voice, perhaps stronger affection than a brother should have said. Tezuka didn't ask how they had died. The bonds between siblings could be strong, though, stronger than anything in the world. Tezuka wouldn't have known this, for he was an only-child. From the corner of his eye, he caught that lovely smile turning slightly bitter.

"The sea is never ending, Tezuka. Most of earth is made up by the world's oceans, though I'm sure you already knew that." Fuji's continuation was unwarranted, but it wasn't as if Tezuka didn't want it. He had a fond smile on his lips. It was gentle, sweet. "If a candle can go like that forever, so can the memory of that person."

Tezuka paused at Fuji's statement. It was rather poetic and uncharacteristic of Fuji. He was smiling. The candles had long since disappeared on the horizon with the gentle pull of the tide. Fuji stepped away from Tezuka and was unbuttoning his shirt. "Let's go swimming," he suggested. It wasn't as much of a suggestion as it was a challenge. Before Tezuka could protest; Fuji had peeled off his long pants so that he was only in his underwear. Throwing off his shoes and socks, he was suddenly far from Tezuka, walking into the water until it was up to his knees.

"Tezuka, are you coming?" Tezuka wanted to protest, to tell Fuji that he wasn't going to follow, but there was something that pulled him. It could have been the salty-smelling, nighttime air, or the gentle pull the ocean had on his heart. After all, they had both grown up near the ocean all their lives, and were very much accustomed to it.

Tezuka didn't know why exactly he found himself beside Fuji, clad in nothing but his boxers. They walked into the water until the bottom sloped down and their feet could no longer touch. The ocean water felt warm, not as cold as it did usually at this time of year or day. Fuji dog-paddled ahead of him, and Tezuka swam to meet him. He had always been a pretty powerful swimmer.

Out here, they had to tread water to stay above the surface. Tezuka watched the shoreline carefully; if they weren't careful, they would be carried out to sea by the tide, ever changing. Now, though, he could see why Fuji had brought him out here.

Since Fuji was a photographer, he seemed to have a natural eye for beauty. He was ever like the sea, dancing father away from Tezuka's touch. Fuji liked nothing better to tease. It amused him, even though Tezuka was mostly immune to it. It was beautiful here, though, and it wasn't a trick of Fuji's, he knew.

They were among a gentle, calm sea. Nothing except the sound of the distant waves broke the silence.

Tezuka thought that it felt like he was in the sky. Tonight, there were no clouds and the stars were very visible. They glimmered in the sky beautifully and reflected off the water. Fuji, only a few feet ahead of him was barely visible. He seemed to blend right into the sea.

Really, he hadn't thought about it before, but he liked the smell of seawater.

Well, until Fuji splashed him and gave a rather boyish laugh.

Tezuka resolved that if you didn't have the light jokes that Fuji played, you wouldn't have Fuji. He was willing to have that. The stars above them twinkled, Tezuka swam over closer to Fuji, so that their breath mingled. Fuji, at the very moment, seemed flustered. In any other circumstance, Fuji would have told Tezuka that he wanted to stay like this, forever.

This time, though, he gave a silvery laugh, seeming not so intent to remain in close to Tezuka. "Come on; I'll race you back to shore!" Fuji gave no pause between the challenge and the beginning, and Tezuka was given no choice by to accept. "Go!"

Tezuka had never seen Fuji swim so fast, and tonight he beat Tezuka back to shore by at least three seconds. His smile was contempt, happy. He looked pleased to have won, and was already shaking off the excess water and pulling on his clothes. His shirt clung to his still wet form, and his hair dripped. Tezuka was sure that he was slightly drier, though he was quick to pull his clothes and shoes back on, too.

"Tezuka," he said after a moment of silence. "Thank you for coming, today. I'm sorry if I was of trouble, but I needed to tell you something."

Whenever Fuji got very serious, he always opened his eyes. The blue color of those orbs reminded Tezuka well of the sea, but today they were stormy and serious, unlike the real sea, which calmly met the horizon. "Tezuka, you said that you liked me, right?" Fuji's voice was accusing, and he pressed himself closer to the boy. Tezuka paused, for lack of anything better to say.

His eyes were shining with a foreign sort of emotion now, flickering a soft marine blue, almost illuminating the surroundings. "Tezuka," his voice was a bare whisper. "I need to ask something of you, and this is something you must comply to." Tezuka raised an eyebrow when there was an uncomfortable pause. "I need you to leave Japan forever. You can't come back. Forever, for me."

Tezuka's voice was curt, pushing back Fuji's gentle, half-hearted order. "What?"

"I know…it sounds something so huge to ask of you, but your life depends on it." Fuji's voice was muffled. "Some of my extended family wants you dead." Fuji gave no reason; all he did was fall silent. Tezuka wouldn't ever take such a threat lying down. He grabbed the shorter boy's shoulders and pulled him roughly forward, in the process jarring Fuji's ankle. He didn't even wince at it, though. Fuji's look remained that of firm resolve.

"Tell me what is going on!" This was so much unlike Tezuka, but this situation wasn't at all normal.

Fuji wasn't going to budge from this; Tezuka knew it, even when his grip tightened. Fuji still offered no explanation. Fuji drew a ticket and a note out of his pocket. "This will explain it all. You need to get out of Japan, though, now."

"I'm not going to flee, whatever it is," Tezuka answered, handing both things back. Fuji's look saddened, even though he was still smiling.

Tezuka realized that it was hard to look at the cold eyes for too long. Considering one could barely ever see Fuji's eyes, this was something big. They held Tezuka's feet in place. "Then follow me into death," he suggested.

"Fuji," Tezuka reprimanded. Fuji's smile grew wider.

"Tezuka Kunimitsu, will you die with me?"

"Fuji!"

"Tezuka," His voice was suddenly louder, and very cold. It made him jump, with a shiver down his spine. "I am not joking." Fuji's hands slipped under his arms and around the back of his shoulders. Fuji was pressed close to him, his lips a tantalizing few inches away from his.

Tezuka remained absolutely silent.

"Will you?" He was persistent.

Fuji's lips were tempting, and they were kissing him slowly. Tezuka wondered if that would be their last kiss. Tezuka drew back and pulled on Fuji's wrist, kissing the underside lightly.

Tezuka didn't answer Fuji's demanding question for the time being, but he knew he'd eventually agree.

Two days later, there was a news report detailing the story about two high school graduates that had been found dead at a local beach. The motive had been apparently voluntary suicide. There wasn't much to it, except two dead boys in close proximity to each other, an unopened letter, and a one-way ticket to America.

There were two candles there that floated for a while before eventually being pulled out by the retreating tide. They lit up the horizon like fireflies, and then in the blink of an eye, they were gone.