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Chapter 2

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The car ride was awkward in many ways.

Nanjiroh hummed and sang and asked questions about Fuji's life, and Fuji lied the best he could. He couldn't imagine telling a stranger that his parents were dead, or that he'd killed someone before. And that a few moments ago, holding a gun and pulling a trigger was a natural act. He didn't tell them that stealing was as easy as brushing his teeth.

He couldn't. After all, hadn't he come here to get rid of his past?

And Ryoma slept. He slept like a kitten, and Fuji couldn't peel his eyes away.

A blanket was draped over his body, and he leaned on the end of the window, his head vibrating along with the bumps on the road. Fuji saw the curve of his cheeks, soft with baby fat, and the dark lashes that held in fierce eyes. He was so…cute. Fuji really couldn't find another word for it. And he wanted to take a picture, so badly, but his camera was gone.

And it would also be creepy, Fuji reminded himself.

"Hey." Ryoma stirred. He blinked, and yawned. Without bothering for a proper greeting, he immediately asked: "Ne, Fuji-san, what colour are your eyes?"

Fuji froze, briefly. He'd again forgotten that Ryoma was blind for a moment. He acted so normal and casual with life it was hard to tell. Swallowing, Fuji answered. "Blue. They're blue."

Ryoma's fingers clenched the blanket. "What's blue look like?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and Fuji's stomach turned uncomfortably. That was right. Ryoma had never seen any colour. How was he supposed to describe…

"Deep," Fuji said. He licked his lips. "Blue looks deep. Dark blue. Light blue looks…"

He didn't know.

Ryoma just stared at his feet, closing his eyes. "Are yours dark or light?"

"Light," Fuji said, and he felt this sensation in his stomach. He'd been able to half-heartedly describe dark blue, but what did light blue look like? It just looked light. It was too hard to describe. And besides, Ryoma wouldn't be able to see it anyway. It was impossible.

"What about your hair?"

Fuji's neck felt prickly and cold. "Light brown."

Ryoma looked up. "Skin?"

"Pale."

He seemed satisfied with the answers, although Fuji couldn't possibly fathom why. "Hey, oyaji, how long until we get there?"

"A couple of hours."

Ryoma made a noise. "I'm hungry, though."

Nanjiroh chuckled. "Aw, poor brat. He's hungry. Hear that, Fuji-san? The baby might starve."

"Baka," Ryoma called to the front.

"Perhaps we should stop, then?" Fuji suggested.

"No, no." Nanjiroh waved his hand. "He can wait it out. Besides, he says he's hungry every hour or so."

"No, you do that," Ryoma said, but he slumped down in resignation. Fuji watched him glare darkly in the vague direction of his father, and couldn't help but feel another urge of cute bubble up in him. Oh, dear, Fuji pressed his hand against his forehead, and exhaled. The first thing he'd done when he started his new, mafia-free life was get attracted to a kid.

A boy kid, at that.

No. A blind boy kid.

There was obviously someone up there who had something against him.

….

"Traffic," Nanjiroh slouched down into the seat, shoulders sagging. "Suppose we'll just have to wait it out, eh?"

"Traffic," Ryoma grilled. "I'm hungry, remember?"

Nanjiroh rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, yeah. Don't be a brat. We'll stop somewhere after we get out."

Ryoma grumbled that he wasn't a brat before crossing his arms and glaring out the window, as if he could just somehow see the cars, he could make them magically burn to dust. Fuji watched him, and he couldn't help, for the millionth time, wonder how he felt. How did it feel to hear the sounds and scents around him, but to not ever be able to see them?

What would it be like… – Fuji paused, and his fingers curled around the strap of his sports bag. What would it be like to fall in love with someone and never be able to see their face?

He glanced at Ryoma, who was staring fearlessly out into the sea of cars.

"Hey, Ryoma," Fuji said softly.

Ryoma craned his neck. "Yeah?"

"Do you have a cell phone?"

He blinked. "Do you?" he challenged, dodging the question.

No, but I did steal one once. Not that you would need to know. Fuji cleared his throat, and smiled. "No. Do you?"

"Why?"

He was clearly very direct. Fuji shifted. "Just wondering."

"Hmmm."

Fuji took a deep breath, and blew a long strand of hair out of his face. He felt uncomfortably hot under his shirt. Who knew a kid had the capability to make him feel so…strange. Fuji wiped his forehead, and sank back into the seat. No – not strange. More like…uneasy. Maybe it was because he was blind. Or maybe because he was the first normal person he'd talked to.

"So, are you any good?"

"Good?" Fuji said slowly.

"Tennis," Ryoma said. "You any good?"

Oh. Tennis.

"I'm…alright," Fuji said. "…"

"Heh." Ryoma settled back around. "For a girl?"

Fuji's smile twisted. "Excuse me?"

"For a girl." Ryoma closed his eyes, curling back under the blankets.

Well, if that's how it's going to be. Fuji's lips clipped, and in a spit of fire, he snapped, "Are you any good? For a blind person?"

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Fuji's heart squeezed. He felt the burn of apology heavy on his tongue. "Ryoma – "

Ryoma held his hand up, smirked, and stared deftly into space. "You'll see, Fuji-san."

"I'll see?"

"How good I am," Ryoma said. This time, he turned, and stared pinpoint at Fuji's eyes. "For a blind person, of course."

The words felt like they should have been bitter, but they only left a cocky air in the car. Fuji heard Nanjiroh chuckling under his breath from the front seat. "Man, my kid's being a pain in the ass, isn't he?" he patted the empty passenger seat. "Come sit up here, Fuji-san – get some fresh air. How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm fine," Fuji said. He added, quickly, "I'm fifteen."

Ryoma's eyes flickered. Nanjiroh choked.

"Fourteen?" Nanjiroh demanded. "You look at least seventeen!"

"Fifteen," Fuji said, again. He got that a lot. Not because he looked older. He looked just like his age. But his maturity levels were beyond that of a ninth grader, and he gave off this quiet, wise aura that made everyone automatically think he was a little older than he was. He smiled at Ryoma, who looked shocked.

"How about you?" he asked.

Ryoma pursed his lips. "Guess."

Fuji blinked. "Okay…how about…" his eyes trailed over the boy. "Ten? A little older?"

Ryoma growled. "Thirteen. Geez."

Fuji shrugged, innocently. "I based it on what I saw."

"Yeah?" Ryoma said, sharply.

"Yes." Fuji's tone didn't waver. "Your face is young, you're short, and you act like a ten-year old."

Ryoma's eyes flashed. "Fuck you."

"Well." Fuji lifted a shoulder, and replied airily, "Of course, that's just an opinion of a girl.'

Ryoma's brow twitched, but he didn't comment further. Fuji hoped he realized that jab had only been in return for the girl comments he'd been getting. He peeked over at the car mirror, and tilted his head. He wasn't girlish. Not really. His hair was kind of shaggy and long, and his face was feminine, but anyone could clearly tell that –

Ryoma placed a hand on Fuji's chest. "You're very flat for a girl."

Fuji laughed quietly. "And toned too, right?"

Ryoma awkwardly kept his hand there. "Yeah. Toned." He heard the boy take a breath. "Do you work out?"

Well, I wouldn't call it working out, Fuji thought to himself. More like beating each other up.

"Yes," Fuji said cheerfully.

"At the gym?"

No, with criminals.

"Yes, the gym," Fuji nodded. To take the topic off of him, he slanted his eyes. "You done feeling my chest?"

Ryoma's cheeks turned pink, and he turned back around, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "I was just checking." he huffed. "To make sure you weren't a girl."

"Why?" Fuji said. "Would it be a problem if I were a girl?"

Ryoma was quiet for a second. He fidgeted. "Maybe."

Fuji's brow creased. "Why?"

Silence.

"Why?" Fuji pressed.

There was a moment of hesitance, before Ryoma whispered fervently, "I'm gay, Fuji-san."

Fuji nearly choked on air. He felt like a bucket of cold water had been promptly dumped over his head. Ryoma was gay? Okay. Okay, that was fine. Fuji felt his heart leap. He was too, so he could relate. But how did that matter if Fuji was a girl or not? Unless Ryoma was planning on pursuing him, gender shouldn't have-

"Do you think I'm attractive?" Fuji blurted.

Ryoma looked at him like he was stupid. "I can't see you, remember?"

"Then why does it…matter?"

"Because maybe I like you." Ryoma smirked. He added, almost sinisterly, "Fuji-san."

What? Fuji felt like he was floating underwater. How had fighting about tennis capabilities come to attraction? And all of a sudden…he couldn't be serious. They'd barely known each other for more than a few hours.

Ryoma laughed. "Relax." He stared ahead. "I don't like you."

Fuji's shoulders relaxed.

"I just like your chest."

Fuji jerked his head up. "Ryoma – "

"What?" Ryoma taunted. "Is it a crime to like it?"

Fuji tensed, and shook his head, before settling back into his seat. Was it just him, or did being blind make people ten times more direct and blunt? He peered at Ryoma from the corner of his eyes. It wasn't just that he was blunt – there was something else in his eyes. A certain kind of power. Ryoma was…fearless.

"You're…" Fuji's tongue felt thick in his mouth. "What do you like to do?"

Ryoma didn't blink. "Play tennis."

How do you play tennis when you're blind? That's what Fuji wanted to say. Instead, he said: "Other than tennis."

Ryoma furrowed his brow, as if the question was much too difficult to respond to. After a moment, he shrugged, and said: "I like to sleep."

Fuji gave him a look. "Anything else?"

Ryoma shrugged again, and slunk deep into the seat. "I play video games. With the audio."

It was weird. In one way, Ryoma was just an ordinary boy. Very ordinary. He liked to sleep, play a sport, and game. He dressed in shirts and shorts, baggy over his lithe figure. There wasn't really anything interesting about him. And then, in another way – he was anything but ordinary. Fierce eyes, unwavering confidence…blindness in both eyes.

"What about you?" Ryoma sat up a little straighter.

"Me?" Fuji's mouth instantly turned to bread crust. "Oh…I don't really have any hobbies…"

"Then what do you do?" Ryoma pressed.

Steal and kill to survive. Smoke. Try a few different drugs. Fuji took a deep breath, and locked his eyes back on the window. He didn't need to tell Ryoma any of these things. He was beyond that. It wasn't even a part of him anymore. This opportunity meant he could make a plate of things he liked with nothing holding him back…

"As I said, I like photography," Fuji said. "And I like to…travel."

"Travel?" Ryoma asked. "Where have you been so far?"

Fuji coughed. "Um. I'm just starting out."

Ryoma leaned forward with a spark in his eye. "So you've only been to Japan?"

"As I said." Fuji tried not to sound sharp. "I'm just starting out."

The only response he got was Ryoma snickering. "Heh. Japan isn't that fascinating. I suggest you go somewhere else."

"How would you know?" Fuji asked. "You can't even see any of it."

Again, the cruel words came on impulse. Back in America, they talked around each other without a care about the others feelings. Some of the stuff they said were hard and harsh – but he knew he couldn't use that kind of careless language with the people in Japan. And Ryoma – his eyes had flickered with hurt the moment they'd been said.

Fuji bit his lip. "I didn't mean…"

Ryoma gave him a hard look. "Whatever."

The car hummed as it sped up through the high way. Fuji felt a heavy weight in his chest, but couldn't bring himself to apologize. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nanjiroh's gaze flicker back to them, and his stomach got queasier. He'd almost forgotten Ryoma's father was in the car. For that kind of remark…shouldn't he be kicked out into the middle of the road by now?

But Nanjiroh didn't seem fazed. He sang off-key to a song on the radio.

"Ryoma," Fuji tried again. "If I hurt your feelings…"

Ryoma blinked, and straightened up. "No. You didn't."

"Are you sure?"

Ryoma gritted his teeth. "Yes. I'm sure."

Somehow, Fuji doubted it, but he didn't press further.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Nanjiroh rounded out a few more questions from Fuji, in which Fuji responded as vaguely as he could, while Ryoma sulked by the window. It was nearly evening, the sun dim and bright under the rolling hills, when they arrived at the Echizen residence. It was a friendly shrine, with a strewn front lawn and porch swing.

It was very…ordinary.

But Fuji craved ordinary.

"Wow," Fuji said, as he slid out of the car. He felt his muscles groan in relief.

Nanjiroh laughed. "It's really plain, isn't it?"

"There's a tennis court in our backyard." Ryoma stretched and yawned. The blanket slipped to the ground, and he fumbled to pick it up. Fuji watched his hands touch the pavement, then a rock, before it finally grabbed the soft material. He swallowed, and looked away. It was so hard to see such a confident kid have to be blind.

He could have so much potential if he…

Fuji exhaled, and forced a smile. "A tennis court? That's convenient."

Ryoma just stared at him, the blanket limp in his fingers. It was like he could tell what Fuji was thinking.

Fuji's eyes slid to the ground, and for a moment, anxiety crawled up his bare forearms. But a moment later, he felt a flame glow in his chest. He was still strong and invincible. Just because he was no longer a part of…his old life, didn't mean his personality had to change. With that boosting him up, Fuji jerked his head up, met Ryoma's unfocused eyes with his own, and smiled sharply.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Fuji said, his voice as bitter as sugarless coffee. "See something interesting?"

Ryoma flinched. "You know I can't-"

"That's what I thought," Fuji smoothly cut in, before turning on his heel, heaving his backpack onto his shoulder, and heading for the front porch of the house. He could feel Ryoma's glare burning holes into his back, but at this point, he didn't care. At first, he'd wanted to befriend Ryoma…but if they had to be enemies…

Fuji smirked, and climbed up the steps.

Well, that would only make things even more interesting, wouldn't they?