Title: Feathers
Author: Fuji S. Yuki
Pairing: Fuji Ryo
Assigned Editor: pookayasha
Editing: Completed

Feathers. All Ryoma can see is feathers floating around him. He doesn't understand why lately feathers have been appearing near him. Sometimes, if he glances up in a certain way, he will see one spiraling towards him.

Lately, Ryoma is annoyed that Momo will appear and hang around him. It's fine when he wants some food or when he wants to play tennis. However, Ryoma wants to move on higher. He wants to beat people that are better so that he can get closer to his goals.

He has yet to play Fuji again. The match he had with the tensai still floats over his head. It annoys him greatly that he hasn't beaten the other. Sure, he has lost several times when playing against Tezuka, but it's different when it comes to the tensai.

Ryoma wants to beat him. He wants to prove that he is at the level of the genius and maybe beyond. However, he also wants to hold the attention of the slender lean figure. Wants those eyes to open and look at him standing there, ready. Wants Fuji to acknowledge that he is on equal footing. He wants to possess the other, even though he doesn't know this.

There is a certain jealous quality that lingers in Ryoma's behavior, like how sometimes he will spot Fuji talking to Tezuka, how the other is near the taller boy.

Ryoma doesn't like this. He wants to be seen. He wants the other's undivided attention and, even though he doesn't realize, he is jealous.

Ignorance is bliss, the saying goes, though Fuji isn't really oblivious to the signs. Then again, he does have a personal interest when it comes to the Prince, as he thinks of him.

It seems funny that Fuji will label someone, but the behavior of the boy reminds him of a prince. Dignified, arrogant, snarky, he is young and occasionally incredibly spoiled. But this is what one becomes when he is the baby of the group.

Yet, Fuji doesn't mind. If raised properly, one day the Prince will grow up to be a king. This doesn't mean Fuji will dirty his hands in educating the youth in righteousness. He isn't the boy's father and, goodness knows, he certainly doesn't feel fatherly (let alone brotherly) toward Ryoma.

Sliding forward, Fuji watches in vague amusement as Momo takes it upon himself to ensure that the younger boy will be accompany. Fuji doesn't quite like this, to be honest. He is disconcerted and, unlike Ryoma, knows he is jealous.

Fuji doesn't like to share. Then again, he is one who knows what he wants and how to get it simply. While he doesn't have the Atobe-complex, who thinks he deserves certain things, Fuji knows what he is worth. Yet he knows about connections.

When he played against Ryoma, there was a certain quality interconnecting them with one another. The boy can see what he sees sometimes, at those certain, perfect moments. Fuji notices this for, in Fuji's mind, he can see the wind, the power of endearment and, sometimes, the inner workings of each person's soul.

This is a curse and a gift that is part of Fuji. He sees the barriers he makes as tiny feathers that barricade and help him with his unnatural gift.

Fuji believes in soul mates. There is a myth about humans who once walked the earth with two heads, four arms, four legs and one soul. They were split in half, their souls screaming as they were torn apart. Each half was flung to opposite ends of the Earth, destined to search for their other part forever. It is said that there still lingers a thread connecting each halved-body with its partner. Sometimes, if one looks closely, they will notice a link, a certain fine-lined thread that leads to another's body.

Fuji remembers once, when he was sleeping, he could hear soft, kittenish meows and a child's cry in the dark. He remembers opening his eyes and seeing, through his barricade of feathers, a young boy curled up beside a fluffy ball of fur. It was cradled across his chest, its paw injured and the child, trying to keep it warm, held it dearly.

Fuji couldn't resist touching the scene. He walked through his barrier of self-preservation and felt the tugging of that invisible thread. Kneeling, all he could do was wrap his arm around the boy and the kitten. That is all he remembers as the feathers blow across the vast space of time.

Waking up, all he could sense was an inner peace and a deep well of completion. After his dream, he hadn't felt that emotion for many years until it was triggered again. Triggered by the boy and the game they had played against each other. There was potential in that youth and yet, there was recognition.

So even now, Fuji walks onward with a smile on his face and a gentle tugging in his chest. The only thing he can do is press his fingers over the spot where his heart lies. Feathers flutter gracefully by as he disappears through the doorway into the light.

Owari