Sara: Hi guys! I started school *squee* So excited. So anyway, here's another chapter of Living Hell! Enjoy! (PS it's a little sad. And Tezuka's a bit OOC. Gomenasai.)
Sky: Disclaimer: We don't own Prince of Tennis.
Review Time ~
Kissy Fishy: There WILL be something after this. Sara promises. Just stay tuned! :D And thank you, your explanation makes sense :)
phoenixfirekitsune: Thank you so much it helps a lot! And we know, waaah for Eiji D: He's one of Sara's favourite characters so it was really hard writing that part of the chapter.
Eru no Tsubasa: Again we'll say that there are going to be Fuji moments later on, we just won't tell you how we write them just yet.
Living Hell
Chapter 7: Funeral for a Friend
It's tearing his heart, because he couldn't save him. ~ I Couldn't Save You, Kate Voegele
Two Sundays after telling the team about Fuji's death, Tezuka donned his best suit and tie, both black for the occasion. He nearly smiled as he thought of Fuji's teasing.
Saa, Tezuka, has anyone ever told you that you look very handsome in something other than a tennis jersey?
Tezuka missed his friend. Even though he tried his hardest not to show any emotion, to put that stoic mask on every single morning, he couldn't, he justcouldn't smother the intense pain he felt every day when he walked to school alone, when he stood on the courts just by himself while watching the team practice.
"Kunimitsu, are you ready?"
Tezuka looked away from the mirror for a moment to see his mother, looking pale and small in a simple black dress. His father was dressed in a black suit and tie, and his grandfather in a black yukata.
"Ah. I just need one more minute."
Tezuka looked to the mirror again, taking in his sharp, classy appearance, so different from his normal choice of wear. He attempted to straighten the darn tie once more, but giving up he padded down the stairs to attend his best friend's funeral.
./. .\.
It was raining outside. It was the kind of rain that would stop a tennis practice, Tezuka thought. The kind of rain that Fuji would have loved had he still been alive. Though dreary clouds hung in the sky like a veil, it was pleasant and warm, and the raindrops made soft pitter-patter sounds when they hit the ground. Rainbow-coloured umbrellas spotted the sidewalk as Tezuka's father made hairpin swerves and turns, making the captain's stomach lurch every time they reached a tight corner.
When the Tezuka family arrived at the funeral home, they noticed the entire Seigaku tennis team standing rather uncomfortably in the small room that held the polished mahogany coffin. The regulars stood in the back, waiting for the room to clear up before saying a final goodbye.
The entire place reeked of disinfectant and formaldehyde, and the walls were an unpleasant shade of green, like something diseased. For the umpteenth time that week, Tezuka thought he was going to be sick.
Slowly the other members of the tennis team trickled out, allowing everyone more elbowroom. Tezuka's parents and grandfather strode up to the coffin to say a prayer and goodbye. Tezuka stepped back to be with his friends.
He looked them over, looking oh-so-different in black tie formal wear. Kikumaru was crying, big fat tears pouring over his cheeks, leaning on Oishi. The latter rubbed soothing circles on the acrobat's back, trying to calm him. The rest of the regulars were somber. Kaidoh and Echizen left their headgear behind as a sign of respect. They all looked polished and clean, but for some reason Tezuka felt that Fuji wouldn't have wanted it this way.
He would have wanted them to be in their regulars' jerseys, battling it out on the tennis courts. He would have wanted them to be training for the Nationals, to lead Seigaku to their first victory. He would have wanted Kikumaru to be happy, for Oishi to be following the acrobat around so the boy wouldn't disturb everyone. He would have wanted Kawamura to be screaming "BURNING!" with a tennis racquet in hand, and Momoshiro and Kaidoh to be fighting. He would have wanted Inui to be scribbling furiously in his notebook and Echizen to be making snarky remarks about everything. And Tezuka? What did Fuji want for him? To shed his mask, to be vulnerable, to actually feel again? Tezuka remembered being on all fours in his bathroom, screaming,I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!
Maybe he didn't understand Fuji as well as he thought.
Fuji's family stood beside the coffin as people walked by to give their condolences and said their prayers. Fuji Yoshiko was rigid with anguish, her face in a tear-stained mask, as though she tried her hardest not to cry but failed miserably. Fuji's father looked quite bored, staring up at the ceiling. Fuji Yuuta had his hands clenched at his sides. He was shaking, drops of salt water pouring down his cheeks. The whole ordeal must have hit him the hardest, since he had been right there with his brother when he was dying. Fuji Yumiko held him around the shoulders, making soft, consoling sounds while she herself was weeping.
Finally, everyone else cleared the room and left the eight regulars standing in the back, waiting for their turn. They stepped forward as one and bowed their heads, each one saying a silent prayer.
Fuji's body was frail and fragile in death. The regulars only just realized how thin he actually was. And he'd been losing weight over the past years. A Bullet Serve from Momoshiro would have put him flat on his back.
But the other regulars didn't know what Tezuka knew. They didn't know that Fuji was being abused, that under the jacket and dress shirt there were bruises and scars painted on his body. They hadn't heard Fuji crying in the clubroom as Tezuka had.
A few honey-brown locks fell across the pale expanse of Fuji's forehead, some of them covering the closed eyelids. Tezuka was right; a mortician couldn't replicate the living Fuji. The curving on the right side of his mouth, a perpetual sign of a playful smirk, was replaced by a straight line, almost a frown, the carefree smile gone forever.
./. .\.
Tezuka, Kikumaru, Kawamura, and Yuuta ended up carrying the coffin through the procession. Mourners clad in black trailed behind them, sobbing quietly into scraps of lace or commenting about how much of a damn shame it was for such a smart boy to commit suicide at such a young age.
The four teenagers set the coffin on the mechanism that would lower it into the ground and stepped back to join the grievers. An old, wrinkled man stood up, cleared his throat, and began to drawl on about Fuji's life - as if he gave two shits in the first place, the regulars thought. Tezuka could barely hear his raspy voice, but he managed to pick out words like, "intelligent boy", "a terrifying enemy and fierce friend," "a true tensai". Tezuka looked at the now closed coffin, wondering if there would be a day when he wouldn't think back to this moment, or the moments in Fuji's room, or the moment when it seemed like the whole world stopped, Fuji Syusuke the tensai of Seigaku was dead. Only now did the other regulars allow themselves the luxury of tears, yet Echizen and Tezuka stood straight and stiff, their grief only etched on their faces.
The coffin was inched into the ground and came to a stop with a low thud. One by one, people dropped white roses on the coffin, so that they covered it like a massive white blanket. Tezuka was last, and he dropped his rose into the grave. The movement was so sad, so… final. He was the last person standing there in front of the hole in the ground. He could feel the rain soak through his jacket and into his shoes.
The National finals are in a few weeks, Fuji, Tezuka thought as he looked at his friend's resting place. Once Seigaku wins, I'll come back to give you the medal, I promise you.
"Hey, Tezuka!"
Tezuka turned around to see the regulars waiting for him. His parents and grandfather had already left, knowing, Tezuka supposed, that he would not be coming home until the evening.
"Tezuka, would you like to come with us?" Oishi asked, wringing his hands as Kikumaru slumped against his shoulder. "We're going to Kawamura's for sushi, and you're welcome to - "
"I would love to come," Tezuka said quickly. He even curved his lips upward in an attempt to smile. Oishi looked delighted even though it looked like a distorted version of a grimace.
"Hoi hoi, is Buchou really smiling?" Kikumaru crowed, now back to his bubbly self. The acrobat really could be fire and brimstone one moment, and smoke and ash the next.
Tezuka realized his fault and frowned. "I wasn't."
"Yes you wereeeeeeeeeee! Who knew that Buchou could?"
Kikumaru glomped Tezuka, and even though the latter's first reaction was to throw the boy off of him, he let Kikumaru chorus, "Tezuka smiled, Tezuka smiled!"
Tezuka felt like laughing with the rest of the regulars as they walked to Kawamura's, Kikumaru still clamped to his back, still shouting on the top of his lungs. He let another smile grace his lips as he relaxed and had fun with his friends.
But once they stepped into Kawamura's, the sushi restaurant totally empty, a wave of silence and sobriety washed over the regulars again. Kawamura's father stood behind the sushi bar, his head bowed.
Once he saw the eight teenagers, he put on a bright - but fake - smile and said, "Hello everyone. What would you like to have?"
When no one answered, Tezuka supplied, "Four trays of wasabi sushi, please, Kawamura-san." Then he turned to Inui. "Inui, do you have some Penal Tea on you?"
The older Kawamura nodded and ducked in the back to grab the wasabi, which he normally saved for Fuji's visits, and the data man Inui smiled.
"Of course, Tezuka." He grinned creepily, holding up a silver drink thermos. "I always have some on me."
"Nya, Tezuka, why are we doing this?" Kikumaru cried, cringing away from Inui. "We're going to annihilate our taste buds!"
"It'll be like a ritual," Kawamura mused and he almost almost smiled to himself. "We'll be having Fuji's favourite foods."
"Mou…" Kikumaru whined. He liked the thought of a ritual for his Fujiko, but he wondered whether or not he would survive another one of Inui's health drinks. He winced as he remembered the mouth-numbing sensation of Aozu, and he clutched his throat involuntarily.
Before long Kawamura-san brought out the sushi, and the Penal Tea was poured into little teacups.
Tezuka raised his cup, and the other regulars did the same. "To Fuji," he said.
"To Fuji!"
They all drank, shuddered, and gasped as the spicy drink hit their throats. But no one passed out, for which they were glad.
Then one by one the wasabi sushi disappeared, burning all of their tongues. None of them cared, though. They were willing to suffer for a few hours to pay their respects to their friend.
"Nya, how could Fujiko stomach this stuff!" Kikumaru complained after his tenth piece of the sticky green rice.
"Ii data. Tezuka seems fine, though his hands are shaking," Inui commented.
Tezuka grimaced; his body was on fire. Spicy food was an absolute abomination, but this was his idea, so he intended not to let his guard down and suffer in silence.
"But Fujiko still couldn't take Aozu, nya!"
Oishi paled, but chuckled at the memory of their bowling tournament. "I suppose it was too sour for his taste," he allowed gently.
But then a fight erupted between Momoshiro and Kaidoh. The latter, apparently, was caught scraping some of the wasabi off of his rice.
"Respect your senpai and eat the goddamn wasabi, Mamushi!"
"Fsssh, and you're the one who always respects your senpais, peach head!"
Tezuka looked fondly at his teammates. He hadn't noticed that, over their years of being together, they were like his brothers now, their bonds thicker than blood. He leaned his head against the wall, and thought that he could let his guard down, just this once, as they remembered their lost brother.
Japanese Translations/Author's Notes:
Mamushi: Viper. Kaidoh's nickname. Given to him because of his various snake shots.
Sara: Cheesy. Cheesy cheesy cheesy. But oh well. It's what the plot bunnies told me to write xD I also don't know what kind of funerals the Japanese have, but I wrote it as an American one. I hope you won't have to wait too long for the next chapter, let's see how school goes! Review please :D ~
