Author's note: Hi all I deliver second chapter…

Thanks to all reviewers… spread the tezufuji luv!

To RoYale: Kismet means destiny or fate… there might be a boat trip later on in the story… depends on the extent of my creativity and knowledge of Italian rivers.. haha

Disclaimer: Erm, what else? I don't own Fuji or Tezuka, unfortunately.

Chapter 2

Tezuka, after recovering from the initial surprise, regained his habitual calm composure and motioned for Fuji to sit down next to him on a bench nearby. Fuji compiled with a smile, feeling slightly light-headed at the unexpected turn of events, especially since Tezuka had occupied his thoughts that very morning. Both of them sat side by side in companionable silence, staring at the roseate leaves of the maple tree which drifted all around them. Neither of them knew how to breach a conversation, inwardly lamenting what five years did to their ability to converse with each other.

"So…"

"You.."

Tezuka and Fuji both smiled slightly as they began talking at the exact same moment. Chuckling lightly, Fuji said,

"You first, Buchou.."

Clearing his throat, Tezuka answered,

"Hai.. So you are the photographer for this article?"

"Hai..Tezuka-buchou is the coach?"

It felt strange for Tezuka to hear the 'buchou' once again affixed to his name after such a long time, but there was no denying the affection, the warmth, in those simple spoken words, and Tezuka relaxed.

"Hai… I got transferred from Germany to here, Italy, to lead this team after I graduated from University… change of environment, I guess." Tezuka shrugged nonchalantly.

"How about you?"

"Me? Oh, I graduated from a University here and subsequently took up photography as a full-time career… Um, change of environment for me as well," Fuji laughed, though his light laughter was jarred somewhat.

"Aa. I see. Still play, then?" Tezuka asked candidly.

"Saa… Only sometimes though.."

"Care to have a game with me?"

Fuji looked up then, and saw the raw passion and determined resilience for tennis still burning strong in his buchou's eyes. It stuck a primal chord in his heart, and he realized that Tezuka was somehow able to invoke a spark in Fuji's own soul, one that threatened to be buried under the encumbrance that often accompanied work. Standing up to stretch his arms, Fuji gave his silent consent.

Tezuka passed Fuji an extra tennis racquet of his own. The latter swung it for a few, trying to get used to the tension and weight. Then they stepped into one of the courts.

All the regulars had stopped by now and were watching the scene, fascinated. It had been a long time since they had last watched their coach play seriously, and could not help but wonder how this smiling photographer would match up against their stronger-than-strong coach.

"Takumi-san, will you please be our referee?"

"Hai…" a young man with messy black hair hurried forward.

"One-set match. Tezuka to serve."

Fuji got ready, into position, and watched Tezuka with predatory intensity. With the little fact that Tezuka had been playing professionally, well, he just could not afford to let his guard down. Fuji trained his eyes on Tezuka as the latter served.

The first shot flew past swiftly, almost unseeable, untouchable, and bounced directly into Fuji's court, robbing Fuji of any movement.

"Fifteen-love."

The next shot was similar in speed, zooming past so quickly that even Fuji with all his tensai abilities could barely make out the direction of the ball. Fuji narrowed his eyes slightly. He would not lose this set just with Tezuka's serves. Gripping his tennis racquet handle with a new-found spirit, Fuji was determined to return the next ball.

Tezuka tossed the ball and served. Fuji darted to the left with an astonishing burst of speed, sending the ball whizzing over the net with a graceful ease. Lithe and sure-footed, Tezuka returned the shot, mentally take note of the increase in power of Fuji's shots since they last played against one another. They rallied back and forth a few more times, then Tezuka found the perfect opportunity for his drop shot and executed it flawlessly, rendering Fuji hapless.

"Game, Tezuka. 1-0."

Tezuka was good, as usual, but Fuji was just warming up. He was determined to keep his service game. Putting a spin on the ball, Fuji served. Somewhere over the net, the ball disappeared. The members of the tennis team gasped, and before anyone could comprehend the mystique of it all, the ball had rolled in a neat line over to Tezuka's court.

"Fifteen-love."

Fuji served again, but his opponent was ready, as Tezuka sprinted to intercept the ball. It was a game well played as Fuji executed his counter-attacks which hit the back-line of Tezuka's court with pin-point precision, making sure that the angle aimed was virtually unreturnable.

"Game Fuji. One game all."

The next game was anybody's call, as the service returned to Tezuka. He served once more, and his assessing eyes caught the slightest movement of Fuji's wrist. Analysing it, Tezuka decided that it was going to be a shot from near range, as he rushed to the front of the net to intercept it. However, his judgement proved to be wrong as with a flick of his wrist, Fuji lobbed the yellow speck over to the far end.

"Love-fifteen"

Stunned into momentary silence, Tezuka was unduly disturbed at his error in judgement. It rarely happened. The muscle in his jaw was tense as he served once more. Somewhere between the rallying, it happened once more, that slight flick of Fuji's wrist. Tezuka scrutinized it closely, it was exactly the same as the one before. Tezuka moved to the back of the court, ready to return the lob. With a smile and a flick of his wrist, Fuji hit it just gently over the net.

"Love-thirty"

Tezuka's eyes narrowed into a pair of ominous slits, holding a reflective shade of distress. He was completely unable to predict Fuji's next movement. With his brows furrowed, he served the ball across the net. The ball was hit back and forth a few times before Tezuka caught that movement again. He silently contemplated his next move as a voice piped up from across the net.

"Buchou, appearances can be deceiving. You're looking, but you're not searching."

Tezuka looked back into the face of his opponent, whose countenance was tinged with sadistic amusement. Fuji's words were vague, imbued with ambiguity, trapping Tezuka into an expertly-woven trap.

"Love-forty"

Tezuka felt seriously puzzled. The next return was an exact replica, with Tezuka rushing to the front when it was a lob to the back.

"Buchou, search with your heart, not your head," Fuji called out from across the net.

At the mention of those words, the stark realization dawned upon Tezuka. All reason fled him as he braced himself for the next return. On the next return shot, the normally rational Tezuka, instead of analyzing Fuji's body movements, stared straight into those deep azure eyes. He saw something in those depths, something that clicked within him, and sub-consciously moved to the net. This time, he was absolutely right as hit the ball perfectly.

That ability to read Fuji's movements, coupled with his strong skills, led Tezuka to an edge over Fuji, and spurred him on to win the game and the match.

"Game and Match. Tezuka, 7-6."

Panting from exhaustion, Fuji clasped hands with Tezuka over the net.

"Ne, Tezuka, looks like I'm still unable to beat you after all these years…", Fuji said ruefully.

"Iie, you don't even play professionally now plus you gave me that hint in the middle of the game.."Tezuka replied.

"Yah well, sometimes tennis is about understanding your opponents. If you didn't know me well, there's no way you would have been able to understand the message in my eyes.." the words died away on Fuji's lips.

Fuji's eyelids dropped like a veil over his sapphire eyes, hiding all signs of what he might be thinking. With an endless smile once again plastered on his face, he asked,

"Ano… I have to start taking the pictures now, so, if you don't mind…"

"Hn. Which kind would you want to take?" Tezuka asked thoughtfully.

"Oh, just the in-action kind…"

"Fine then." Tezuka gestured for his team to continue practicing while he silently trailed alongside Fuji, observing how the tensai took photos with an intensity yet almost careless ease.

Taking a chance, Tezuka discreetly stole a long look at the other's profile. Fuji had definitely grown taller since they were last team-mates, and his body did not look as delicate as before. He wore his hair in the same messy fashion, and a perpetual beatific smile still grazed his lips. The tensai now exuded charm, charisma, albeit weaved with a touch of danger, as always. Five years had done Fuji justice. So caught up was he in his thoughts that Tezuka failed to notice a black camera pointed at him until it was too late.

Click.

"Fuji..," Tezuka growled threateningly.

"Maa.. Buchou can't make me run laps anymore.." Fuji chuckled at the murderous look on Tezuka's face.

He couldn't wait to return home to develop the photos.

Owari for 2nd chapt

I rewrote this freaking tennis scene 4 times before I was even semi-satisfied, so if it sucks really badly, well, there's nothing I can do. Just review anyway please!