Title: The Beginning of an Era

Characters: Atobe, Fuji, Tezuka, Yukimura

Time: Year 1 (canon 3rd years are entering their first year of high school)

Summary: Atobe has lived most of his life in England, but he has arrived in Japan to start high school--just not the school he wanted to attend. It's not the moment he would have chosen to reunite with an old friend.

"Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!"

Atobe rolled over and groaned.

"Tu pure, o Principessa, nella tua fredda stanza…"

Still blinded by sleep, he ran his hand along his bedside table until he found his cellphone. He needed to change the ring tone, it was just too ironic.

"Keigo?" It was a young man's voice.

"Who is it?" he mumbled into the phone, only realizing afterwards that he had spoken in English.

"Have you forgotten me, then?" the voice teased, also speaking English, although with an accent.

"Ah," Atobe said. "Hello, Syuusuke. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long," Fuji Syuusuke said. "I haven't seen you in two years. You should have called once you got to Japan."

"I meant to," Atobe said. "My schedule has been quite busy, you know."

"When do you start at the Tokyo Performance Academy?"

Atobe's stomach clenched. He opened his mouth to speak, but wasn't sure what to say.

"Oh," Fuji said, after a long silence. "Are you not enrolled there, after all? I thought it was settled."

"I changed my mind," Atobe said, as flippantly as he could. "I took a tour, and decided it wasn't for me."

"All right," Fuji said. "You should have come to TSA, then. It's better, anyway."

"Go to school with you and your insane family?" Atobe said. "No thank you."

Fuji laughed, not sounding at all offended. "I'm starting classes in three days. Do you want to meet up sometime tomorrow?"

"Of course," Atobe said.

"You know where my school is? There's a café right across the street that's quite decent. Let's meet there."

"All right," Atobe said.

He put down the phone.

"I wish you would understand, Syuusuke," he said to the empty room. "I'm never going to belong to your world."

Fuji's world meant a family of musicians, a life dedicated to one's art. Fuji's world meant a performing arts high school, conservatory, and then a career that might bring either fame or crushing poverty.

That was not the world of the heir to the (recent) Atobe fortune. It wasn't secure. It wasn't respectable. And going to the Tokyo Performance Academy, Atobe's father had decided, would not be respectable.

Atobe got the sense that his father was rather baffled. How could he have known that the years of costly music lessons and expensive instruments would turn his son not into a gentleman, but into a musician?

He had applied to the Tokyo Performance Academy instead of the Tokyo School for the Arts because it offered a full scholarship to a certain number of talented violin students a year. He had applied behind his father's back.

When he had been accepted, he had realized that at sixteen, he didn't have the courage to turn his back on his father, or his life of luxury. Maybe someday. But until then, he knew the difference between reality and impossible dreams.

Besides, he didn't want to be a violinist. Violin had been a sort of compromise—it wasn't as respectable as piano, but neither did it reek of "starving artist".

So, he wasn't going to have the life he had dreamed of. Hyoutei had a decent music program. That would have to be enough for him. He closed his eyes, and leaned back in bed.

"Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!"

"Hello?"

"Do you mind if I bring a friend along tomorrow?" Fuji asked. "He goes to my school. My new roommate, actually."

"That's fine," Atobe said. "Good night!"

"You weren't sleeping, were you Keigo?"

"Of course not," Atobe lied. "It's only nine o' clock."

What was Fuji planning? If he was still as much of a meddler as he had been in elementary school, he was probably trying to set Atobe up with this violinist friend of his. Atobe sighed.

Well, two could play that game. Just because he had only been in Japan for a week didn't mean that he was entirely without resources.

. It was not yet noon, and the café was mostly empty. Atobe was already on his second cup of coffee. Fuji should be here soon.

"Atobe."

"Good morning, Tezuka-san," Atobe said, glancing up to see that his guest had arrived. He felt all too aware that his Japanese, while fluent, had a noticeable British accent. "I'm glad you could make it." He gestured to one of the free seats at the table

He and Tezuka had met the week before, at a tour of the Tokyo Performance Academy. For some reason, Atobe had immediately taken a liking to the stoic cellist. Everything about him belied a seriousness that Atobe knew he himself lacked.

Tezuka nodded politely. "It's good to see you again. I'm sorry you won't be attending TPA this year."

Atobe looked away. "It's an excellent school," he said, keeping his voice light. "But I decided that Hyoutei was a better match for me."

"You're welcome." Tezuka sat down beside him. "You said that you are meeting a friend here?"

"Yes," Atobe said, glad to change the subject. "We went to school together in London. His family lived there for several years while the older sister studied at the Royal Academy of Music. Fuji Yumiko, perhaps you've heard of her?"

"Of course," Tezuka said. "She teaches at the Tokyo School for the Arts. He attends there?"

Atobe nodded. "He's going to be a first-year, like us. Ah, here he is." He rose from his seat to greet Fuji.

Middle school hadn't changed Fuji much, at least where appearance was concerned. He was still small and slender, although he had grown a few inches, and the wide, peaceful smile was still the same. His bright blue eyes, though, seemed slightly colder. Or perhaps it was only Atobe's imagination. They were no longer children, after all.

The boy beside him was slightly taller, with shoulder-length blue hair and an equally calm expression. He was also remarkably handsome, perhaps even more so than Fuji. Atobe immediately noticed the red mark on the side of his neck. A violinist, then, and one who practiced a great deal.

"Hello, Keigo!" Fuji said in English. "Allow me to introduce Yukimura Seiichi, concertmaster of the Tokyo Youth Symphony and my new roommate."

Atobe nodded, impressed. The Tokyo Youth Symphony didn't even accept students younger than high school age—for Yukimura to be the concertmaster as a ninth grader was a remarkable achievement.

"Pleased to meet you, Yukimura-san," he said in Japanese, shooting Fuji a dirty look. He turned to Tezuka. "This is Fuji Syuusuke, the friend I was telling you about. Syuusuke, this is Tezuka Kunimitsu."

"It's good to meet you at last," Fuji said to Tezuka. "I've heard a great deal about you from Yukimura. You study with Ryuuzaki-sensei?"

"Yes," Tezuka said.

Yukimura smiled at Atobe. "The world of music is so small, isn't it? Tezuka and I are both in the Tokyo Youth Symphony. Perhaps you will join us there this year? There are usually several Hyoutei students who participate, and auditions aren't until next week. It's quite competitive, but from what Fuji says, I'm sure you could get in."

"I would like to audition," Atobe said, meaning it. Playing in a youth orchestra which met perhaps once a week wouldn't be the same as going to TPA, but an opportunity to work with the best young musicians in Tokyo was not to be scorned. In his old orchestra, back in London, he had been the concertmaster, of course. If he started practicing immediately, he might even be able to replace Yukimura as concertmaster.

"You know," Yukimura said, "We almost have a string quartet right here. We just need a violist. Tezuka, do you by any chance—?"

Tezuka heard his name, looked over at them. "I'm sorry Yukimura, what did you say?" Atobe hid a smile. The cellist was obviously having difficulty tearing his attention away from Fuji.

"Do you know any good violists?" Yukimura asked again. "If Atobe here joins us, we could start a string quartet."

"There's another first-year at TPA," Tezuka said, still clearly distracted. "Sanada…I forget his first name, but he's supposed to be very good."

"Tell me, Keigo," Fuji said, his eyes flashing. "What do you think of Haydn?"

"Symphonies, or chamber music, and why?" Atobe asked, wishing Fuji wouldn't drag him into arguments.

"Symphonies," Fuji said. "Tezuka doesn't like them."

Tezuka opened his mouth. "That isn't what I said," he protested. "I only suggested that his historical role as the creator of the modern symphony has perhaps been overrated."

Atobe raised an eyebrow.

"His early work is typical of its style, if charming," he said.

"But you can't deny the quality of his later symphonies," Fuji cut in.

"The London symphonies are overrated," Tezuka said, speaking with more heat now. "Especially "The Clock"."

"You haven't lived there," Fuji snapped. "So you don't understand!"

Atobe winced. Perhaps it wasn't love after all.

But he trusted his intuition. There was something in the way Tezuka stared at Fuji. Fascination, if not infatuation. Even Atobe had to admit that Fuji was a charmer. Beguiling. He drew people to him, he always had. It would be interesting to see if anything came of it.

Because Tezuka was besotted, even if he didn't know it yet.

Atobe surveyed his new room in Hyoutei's dorms. It was a single, of course—well, it had been originally built as a double, but he was its only occupant. The cold tile floor had been covered by a pale green Persian carpet, and an extra set of drawers had been brought in to hold his clothing. The bed was unfortunately only twin-size, but had been fitted with silk sheets. Only the walls were bare. He needed a few paintings, or posters, but he hadn't yet decided what to buy.

Hyoutei would suit him well enough, he decided. He had met a few students who participated in the music program—they were talented, but not as serious as the ones he had encountered at TPA. Oh well. Neither was he. If he had gone to TPA or TSA, he would have been just another violinist, painfully aware that he would never pursue music as a career.

Here, he would have the chance to be a leader.

"Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!"

"So, Keigo…" Fuji said.

"I asked you to stop calling me that," Atobe drawled into the phone.

"I've known you since we were eight, I'll call you whatever I please. Anyway, has Yukimura sent you the audition information for the Tokyo Youth Symphony."

"He has. Are you auditioning as well?"

"Of course. Yumiko will kill me if I don't make principal flute. So…what do you think of Yukimura?"

"I like him," Atobe said, refusing to give in to Fuji's prodding. "Don't you?"

Fuji made a noise of exasperation. "But do you like him?"

Atobe rolled his eyes. "Stop the matchmaking, you aren't very good at it. You should know that nothing could ever work out between me and him."

Fuji was all innocence. "Why not? Isn't he handsome enough for you? Or do you just not want to date someone who plays better than you?"

"Same-instrument couples are doomed to failure," Atobe snapped. "You know that. Would you date a flute player?"

"Oh!" Fuji said. "I am dating a flutist, as of this morning. His name is Saeki, he's one of my sister's students."

"All right," Atobe said, giving up. "Good luck to him, then."

And good luck to Tezuka. He was going to need it.

A/N: Atobe's ringtone is the aria "Nessun Dorma" from Puccini's opera Turandot, which is one of the most famous tenor arias in the repertoire. The first two words mean "No one shall sleep"—hence Atobe's comment on the irony of having it wake him up (twice).