© 2012 Gold

Title: Beyond: A Tribute - Part 17

Author: Gold

Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of Prince of Tennis . It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

Notes:

1. This chapter was written a few years ago. I have a strong affection for this chapter, but somehow it didn't fit the chapters before or after. So honestly, this story waited while I tried to fill in the gaps in the story before and after this chapter. Those said gaps haven't been eradicated to my satisfaction, but at least there's some sort of reasonable bridging that is hopefully not too shoddily-constructed.

2. Season's greetings, Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

Night had fallen.

They had been searching for Momo the whole day, with no success, and dusk had fallen by the time Kikumaru Eiji finally convinced Oishi Syuuichirou that no amount of scrabbling wildly through the undergrowth would yield any evidence that Momoshiro had gone that way – at least, not at that hour, when they could hardly see anything. They could have camped out under the stars with only the sky as their roof, but Eiji felt inclined to gravitate towards other parts of civilization where there were more humans. They had gone back down the trail, back the way they had come (because they didn't know any other way) and then cycled around the area for a little while before they arrived at a little nook amidst the rolling hills. Eventually, they found refuge under the roof of an old lady who lived by herself in a somewhat ramshackle old house.

It was a good thing that the weather was fine. In fact, the weather took fine to the extreme. It was a ridiculously hot night.

Kikumaru Eiji lay on his stomach, the thinnest of tatami serving as a barrier between him and the wooden planks of the verandah beneath him. He had been tossing and turning for the better part of nearly two hours, his attempts at sleep foiled by a lethal cocktail: overwhelming heat, the inability to find a cool spot anywhere, and just general restlessness. Eiji listlessly plucked at the tatami, his eyes closed as he tried to hypnotize himself to sleep. He turned over, trying to find a cooler spot, but it didn't work. Briefly he considered sleeping on the bare planks – and dismissed the idea. Pffft.

"Eiji."

Eiji cracked open one eye. "…Oishi?"

There was a short pause, followed by a gusty sigh from Oishi Syuuichirou. "Sorry. I know it's difficult, but… just try and get some rest."

The thought crossed Eiji's mind that if Oishi let out more sighs like that on a regular basis, it would create a nice, cool breeze which would lull them to sleep – but he was too tired to be cheeky. He settled instead for a mumbled, "Too hot."

Eiji turned over again, but this time he did a full roll, to the side and back again, instead of just flopping left and right like a dying fish.

There was just one problem.

There wasn't that much verandah on the other side of Eiji.

For a brief, astonished moment, he was airborne and then –

"Oof!"

Eiji hit (pay) dirt, landing on grass, soil and possibly a vegetable bed or two, before tumbling to an undignified stop.

"…Eiji? … " Oishi whipped his head round.

The place where Eiji was supposed to be was empty.

Oishi sat up so suddenly that his head hit one of the small flowerpots hanging from the ceiling above his head. It swung to and fro, and neatly dealt Oishi another bump on his head, but he hardly noticed. He was suddenly terrified. "Eiji!"

There was a rustle from the other side of the verandah and a dark head popped up, followed by Eiji's familiar face, sporting streaks of dirt, leaves and some stray flower petals.

"…Eiji?"

Eiji spat a few stalks of grass out of his mouth and made a grimace. "Blearrgh."

Oishi blinked. "You… what happened? Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself? Are you dizzy—"

Eiji waved off Oishi's concern. "It's okay, Oishi." He stood up and lifted the back of his shirt, shaking it vigorously. Then he rubbed his ears and wiggled and shook his head so hard that more dirt fell from him in a shower.

Oishi finally ventured a cautious suggestion. "Maybe … a bath…?"

Eiji paused in mid-wiggle, like a kitten interrupted in its daily ablutions, and waved a hand airily. "No need, Oishi!"

Oishi decided not to argue. "Well, all right, then," he said doubtfully, lying back down.

Eiji continued to shake and rub and scratch, until –

Bath.

Why hadn't he thought of it earlier? With the heat and all, perhaps he could douse himself in a very large bathtub filled with ice-cold spring water, fresh from the mountains!

"You're right, Oishi!" Eiji announced gaily at the top of his voice. "I'm going to—"

"Shhh!" Oishi whispered, frowning at him. "You'll wake people up."

Eiji pressed his lips together. "I'm going to bathe," he muttered in a disgruntled manner.

Oishi blinked, somewhat taken aback as Eiji marched off in high dudgeon.

The seconds ticked by as Oishi lay on his tatami.

Above and all around was a clear, dark expanse of infinite night, and the sparkle of a billion stars winked down serenely and triumphantly, sure and certain of their place in the universe. Oishi wondered what he looked like through their eyes – and he wished that he could see what the stars saw from their distant perch. Could they see Momoshiro…? Could they tell him where Momo was…?

In the silence of the night, Oishi let out another sigh. It was at times like these that he missed Tezuka. Before life had put oceans between them and generally swallowed them into little more than texting once or twice over ever-increasing periods of silence to ensure that the other was alive, he and Tezuka had had frequent conversations. Tezuka was a person of extremely few words, but he was an excellent listener, and anything he said was truly worth its weight in gold. Oishi had always found things a little bit clearer after he had had a conversation with Tezuka.

Oishi's mind drifted, wondering how a conversation between them might go.

How are things, Tezuka?

All right, Oishi.

Eiji and I went looking for Momo today… we found the keychain Echizen gave him in high school. That is, the one he got from Echizen in exchange for a week's supply of cat food.

Aa.

But we couldn't find Momo…and I can't stop wondering if I missed finding him somehow.

Aa.

Oishi's imagination stopped there. There was nothing he could say in reply to that and, in any event, Tezuka's habit of saying not more than what was absolutely necessary evidently extended to imaginary Tezuka as well.

Something vibrated, softly and insistently, somewhere near Oishi's arm. It was his mobile phone, the light blinking brightly as it buzzed quietly. Wearily, Oishi reached for it and prepared to switch it off. But he stopped, just in time, as the name blinking on the tiny screen of the mobile phone came into view – a name that made Oishi's eyes widen with disbelief and a large lump come into his throat.

Oishi pressed the 'phone to his ear. "Tezuka?" he croaked disbelievingly into the 'phone.

Tezuka's voice, at the other end of the line, sounded in Oishi's ears half a heartbeat later. "Oishi."

"Tezuka?" Oishi repeated shakily, hardly able to believe his ears.

Again, half a second later—

"Aa."

Oishi knew that voice as well as he knew the back of his own hand. It wasn't his imagination. And suddenly, just like that, he felt strangely better than he had in days. He sat up slowly, taking care to avoid the flowerpots overhead. He cleared his throat and spoke softly.

"How are you, Tezuka? How are things over there? I haven't been watching the news – I'm out here in Biei, so I haven't been keeping up with the news." He held his breath, waiting. "Are things – is everything all right? How's everyone? Inui said that Atobe's in America to help you…?"

"Yes."

Oishi drew a deep breath. "I'm glad. How good of Atobe!"

"Aa."

"They'll find whoever made the mistake," Oishi said firmly. "I was afraid that – that you wouldn't stand much of a chance…you know, at the beginning, you didn't say anything." Oishi hesitated and added, "Nobody said anything. I thought they were supposed to." It was difficult, Oishi thought mournfully, to keep out the slight accusatory edge in his voice. He was still angry, very angry, on Tezuka's behalf.

"Aa."

"It's going to be okay, Tezuka. You and everyone. It's going to be all right."

There was a brief pause. Then –

"Thank you, Oishi."

Oishi cleared his throat gruffly. "It's nothing." He changed the subject. "Eiji's here with me. We've been looking for Momo the whole day, but, well, we haven't found him… " Oishi's voice trailed off.

"Inui mentioned that you had gone to Hokkaido. He didn't say anything about Kikumaru."

Oishi had to laugh a little at that. "You know Eiji. He turned up out of the blue," he told Tezuka. "It surprised me, too." He bit his lip. "We – we haven't found Momo. Yet. We'll try again, tomorrow."

"Aa."

"I keep wondering if we somehow missed something," Oishi said softly. "It's been so many days. It doesn't make any sense, Tezuka. How is it that nobody could find Momo? If he's injured or – or if anything happened, they would have found him. In the woods. In the fields. The mountains. The roads." Oishi's voice rose slightly as he clenched his fists, firmly keeping a lid on the innermost panic that simmered beneath his otherwise calm composure. "But nobody's found anything, Tezuka! Except his backpack, with Saturday's lunch untouched. It's not like Momo. It's not like Momo at all, not to eat his lunch… and I don't understand it. I don't understand any of it."

"Aa."

Oishi swallowed hard, but barrelled on. "I keep thinking that of course, I must have been mad to rush out here like that, I mean, the police and everyone have been searching, honestly…" Oishi gave a faint, embarrassed laugh with a curious tinge of bitterness in it. "I'm not even sure what made me come out here. I don't think I'm the impulsive sort, like Eiji – well, Inui might have some data on that, I don't know – but Tezuka, I came out here feeling that I could help to find Momo. I feel like I can't go back without him."

"Oishi."

"Hai, Tezuka?"

"Do what you feel you have to, with no regrets."

Oishi's fingers tightened around the mobile phone. "Hai, Tezuka."

"But do not lose yourself along the way."

Oishi bit his lip.

"Oishi."

"Hai, Tezuka?"

"We all want to take responsibility for things bigger than we are and to save the people we love."

Oishi's eyes were suddenly filled with tears. Somehow, even though there were thousands of miles of oceans and mountains between them, Tezuka understood.

"Yudan sezu ni ikou."

Eiji tiptoed through the silent house, trying not to make a sound. He hoped that he would make it safely (and very, very quietly) to the back of the house, where there was sure to be a tap of some sort, and then he could wash under the tap. The fact that he was tracking dirt all over the nice, clean floor – well, he would volunteer to scrub the floors on his hands and knees tomorrow. Right now, he really needed to stop being so itchy. Leaves, grass, lots and lots of dirt, and flowers, ugh—

Eiji halted suddenly. There was a glimmer of light coming from the kitchen, a curious, flickering wisp of gold that seemed to have a life of its own. Eiji wrinkled his brow. He didn't remember anyone leaving a light on. In fact, he and Oishi had turned in at around the same time that their kind, elderly hostess had – a good two or three hours ago. It was the earliest he had ever gone to bed since primary school.

Cold shivers skittered down Eiji's spine, followed by the very distinct, creepy feeling of hairs rising on the back of his neck and all over his arms.

The night was silent; the house even more so. This was a very old house, constructed almost completely out of bamboo, wood and paper, and one of its few concessions to modernity appeared to be running water and perhaps one or two electric bulbs. The kitchen was on one side of the house, separated from the tiny living-and-dining area and the even tinier sleeping area by traditional wood-and-paper screens that slid creakily to and fro. They were out here, in the middle of nowhere, with nobody for miles around… and the little old lady was probably deaf and asleep. It was like being in a horror film where, in the dead of the night, Things Happen.

Eiji puffed out his cheeks and then blew out the breath in them. He gave himself a little shake to get rid of the goose pimples. Never let it be said that Kikumaru Eiji ran from the unknown (or the undead).

He sidled as quietly as he could towards the kitchen. There was a narrow gap between the wood-and-paper screens, no more than the width of two fingers; Eiji put an eye to the gap.

There was nobody in the kitchen.

Eiji let out the relieved breath that he hadn't known he had been holding.

No ghosts.

The source of the flickering light was a candle, set in a saucer beside the little stove. There was a funny smell lingering, too – like burnt food. It reminded him of an experiment in the science laboratory in middle school, where they had burnt sugar in a teaspoon in a candle flame.

Something was sitting on the stove, on a flame so low that Eiji could hardly make it out. It was a shallow aluminium dish, battered and dented from age and long use. A dark-coloured liquid trickled over the edge of the dish in small rivulets, staining the aluminium.

Eiji sucked in his breath sharply. He felt his knees quiver.

Blood…

"Uhhhhhhh…"

It was the disembodied voice that did it. It emanated from nowhere, a wailing, inhuman voice, filled with pain and terror.

Eiji couldn't get away fast enough.

Whatever Oishi had expected, it certainly wasn't Eiji bursting on to the verandah, wild-eyed and still considerably dirty.

"Eiji? Is something the matter – wait, what's wrong?"

Eiji took a deep breath and managed a few words while he gestured. "Something… there," he gasped, teeth chattering.

"I'll call the police," Oishi said immediately. "Is obaa-san all right?"

"Not the police." Eiji took a deep breath. His eyes were huge and wild. "C-c-come with me. Please, Oishi."

Oishi was a little puzzled, but he got to his feet nevertheless, tucking his mobile phone into his pocket for good measure.

It took them less than half a minute to get inside the house.

Eiji seemed to be taking several deep breaths.

Then, without warning, he darted forward and flung the wood-and-paper screens wide open.

Oishi blinked.

Flickering flame by the stove –

Something cooking over low heat on the stove –

The most peculiar smell hanging over everything –

Oishi's eyes widened as he took in the scene before him. "Obaa-san!"

Their kind, elderly hostess who had put them up for the night, was huddled in a corner, holding on to her leg and wailing softly in pain.

Oishi pushed past a startled Eiji into the kitchen and swept on the light switch as he passed, flooding the kitchen with brightness from the single bulb overhead.

The little old lady moaned again.

Oishi knelt down and patted her arm comfortingly. "It's all right. Where are you hurt? Just let me have a look," he told her gently.

The little old lady shrank back.

Eiji, who had by then made his way into the kitchen, now squatted down beside Oishi and gave the little old lady his most beguiling, most reassuring smile. "It's okay, Oishi's going to be a doctor! He's going into medicine!"

Sometimes Eiji had misplaced faith in him. It was very nice, but also rather terrifying. Going to be is not, under any circumstances, the same as being a doctor. Oishi, appropriately alarmed, tried to rectify the situation: "Er, wait, that's not right, that is, I'm just a student and not—"

"He's got lots of experience setting ankles and wrists and broken bones and splints," Eiji wagged his head reassuringly. "Believe me!"

Oishi could have sworn that Eiji even fluttered his lashes at the elderly lady.

She peered up at them. "Doctor?" she asked creakily. "Medicine?" She looked from Oishi to Eiji.

"Doctor!" agreed Eiji, cheerfully patting Oishi's shoulder.

Oishi didn't even have time to deny it.

The old lady shot out a hand and clutched wildly at Eiji, strangely enough. "Help me," she croaked.

She staggered to her feet and both Eiji and Oishi scrambled frantically to help her. Then she was hobbling in another direction, Eiji stumbling in her wake and Oishi bringing up the rear, hanging on to Eiji as he went.

There was a little doorway, just off the side, hidden round the bend of the L-shaped space that was the kitchen. It was the entrance to a room so tiny that it was clear that it was some kind of storage space. It contained little more than a mattress and a number of things that had been stacked higgledy-piggledy against the walls. As it was, it could barely contain the additional burden of three more people. Oishi, as the last in line, found himself securely wedged between the end of the mattress and the wood-and-paper partition.

"…Momo!"

Eiji's horrified exclamation caused Oishi to focus sharply on the mattress – and the person lying on it.

"…Momo…?" Oishi whispered, stunned.

It was, indeed, Momoshiro Takeshi on the mattress. There was no mistaking that face, swollen as it was and covered with scrapes, cuts and bruises. His eyes were fast shut and his face was darkly flushed. He was breathing heavily – Oishi could hear the rasps of breath that whistled out from between Momoshiro's dry lips – and he looked ghastly. Ugly swellings. Bruises in purple, blue-black, and sickly yellow-green. Shallow scrapes and deep cuts. Bandaged all over – gauze, plasters, heavy-duty bandages made from rags were wrapped around his torso, taped all over his face and body. Some of the bandages were soaked through with a darkish liquid that had a very strong smell. Oishi recognized it as the smell that had hung in the air in the kitchen. Now that he thought about it, there was something vaguely herbal in the smell.

The little old woman tugged on Eiji's arm. "Help him," she said. She pointed to Momoshiro.

Eiji glanced up at Oishi. "Oishi…"

Oishi, clenching his jaw, nodded. In an unexpected move, he pushed forward suddenly, compelling Eiji to flatten himself against the wall to let Oishi through. It also forced the old lady to give up her grip on Eiji's wrist. She fell back, and it was Oishi's strong arm that saved her from hitting her head against the wall.

Oishi carefully set the old lady down on the edge of the mattress. He looked into her face. "Obaa-san," he said, very quietly and very emphatically. "Wait." He held up his right index finger, placing it against his lips, in that universally understood gesture of silence, until she finally nodded her head.

Oishi turned to Momoshiro. He leant over and laid a hand on Momoshiro's cheek, and then against Momoshiro's forehead. Heat seared into Oishi's skin. Oishi was not yet a medical student – he wouldn't know if he would be accepted until later that year – but he had learnt first aid the best way, through experience during his years in Seigaku's tennis club. More importantly, he was certified in a number of advanced first-aid courses and had also learnt a few things from his uncle, who was a doctor in a hospital. Oishi ran his eyes swiftly over Momoshiro. Yes, the bandages were soaked through with something herbal, likely a tincture of traditional herbs, brewed over the stove. But it wasn't enough. Momoshiro needed to go to a hospital. How many days had it been? Oishi's brain worked quickly.

"Eiji," he rapped out.

Eiji snapped to attention. "Hai!"

"My bag's on the verandah. I've got a first aid box in there. Please bring it to me."

"Hai!"

Oishi glanced down at the elderly lady, who was silently stroking Momoshiro's limp hands. "And – can you call Tezuka?"

"Eh?"

"Call Tezuka," repeated Oishi. He pulled out his mobile phone. "Tell him that we found Momo. Tell him to ask Atobe for a flying hospital or whatever it is, because we're in the middle of nowhere. "

Atobe Keigo was the only person Oishi knew who had at his disposal enough strings to tweak one and get whatever he wanted, with a snap of his fingers.

Eiji nodded. "Okay." He caught hold of Oishi's arm. "Oishi."

Oishi gripped Eiji's shoulder. "Go on, Eiji. Hurry. If you can't get hold of Tezuka, call Oshitari Yuushi – or Fuji. One call each. Don't use any more time than that."

Eiji chewed on his lower lip, then nodded and flew for the verandah.

Oishi turned back to Momoshiro. He looked down and gritted his teeth. First things first. "Obaa-san," he said politely and as loudly as he could without actually shouting, "please tell me where I can find clean water and clean cloths."