Disclaimer: I don't own Tennis no Ohjisama. Though like everyone else on the planet, I wish I did, my, this is such a pointless disclaimer.
Notes: Yay! Chappie three done! I'm so happy, sankyuu for all the good reviews! And now, the face will be revealed! (gosh that sounded corny, but what the heck.) Probably half of you probably know who it is by now.
-x-
The next day was a Saturday, his birthday. Yet Tezuka still woke earlier than usual. He pulled open the shades and was greeted by a gray sky that almost matched his mood. When the light drops of rain started to drizzle, he closed the curtains again.
At least he had no classes to rush off to today, and he wasn't due in the music laboratories for rehearsals until five o' clock, so he could afford to be a little lazy, even though such a careless characteristic didn't fit him at all.
He closed the door and headed to the kitchen. Inui was already standing at the counter, slicing something that looked suspicious. "What are you making?"
"Breakfast." Inui replied nonchalantly as he proceeded to dump the tidbits into a simmering pot. "It's not poison, don't worry, I outgrew that phase a long time ago."
Tezuka sank down on a chair, "I'm not sure if I should be horrified."
"Don't worry." Inui began ladling the thick grayish stuff into a bowl, "In honor of your birthday, I'm very positive that the stuff in the pot is edible, I tested it." He licked his lips.
"Now I'm officially worried." Tezuka picked up the morning newspaper, flipping it to the classified section, "The more you tell me not to worry, the more I tend to be convinced otherwise, you should really get a job."
"I intend to. Breakfast is ready." Inui said.
"When? In thirty years?" his mood was slowly, but surely going down the hill, "If you anger me, you're paying next month's rent." Tezuka abandoned the newspaper and turned his attention to the bowl of something in front of him. He stirred it uneasily with a spoon. "Really, don't lie to me, Inui, what is this? It's my birthday, I have a right to know."
"It's porridge." The taller boy sat down across from him and opened a familiar looking green-and-black notebook, putting it beside his own bowl, "Nothing harmful."he took a bite.
"So you say…isn't that your data book from junior high?" Tezuka continually stirred his 'porridge', looking for a reason to keep from eating, "What data is there to gather about me eating breakfast?"
"You'll see." Inui twirled his pen aimlessly. "Tezuka, are you sick? You're not eating."
That was the final straw in convincing Tezuka that there was something hidden in that porridge that was unusual, if not lethal for most humans, he pushed the bowl away and picked up the newspaper again, "There's an ad for my concert again."
"Somehow, I don't think you're very pleased with that fact, why? If more people show up, your profit's going to be larger than last time." Damn, obviously, Tezuka was too careful to eat the porridge; there really wasn't anything that lethal in there…
"I don't like playing." Tezuka stood up. "I never liked playing."
"Am I allowed to ask why?" Inui asked, even though the answer would be no, 100 percent. But he just had to ask and he could guess the reason.
"No." Tezuka retrieved his jacket from the closet, "Thanks for breakfast, I'm going for a walk."
"Is it because you're better at tennis?"
He paused and cringed, even though he almost succeeded in stopping the cringe in mid action, "I quit tennis."
Inui smirked, "Even behind that face of yours, I can tell, you haven't quit, at least not mentally, isn't that right, Tezuka?"
"Shut up." Tezuka's façade of usual calm was disturbed just a bit, but he gained it back with no trouble, "I'm not going to be back for lunch."
"Are you meeting someone?"
"You ask too many questions." Tezuka closed the door.
-x-
Tezuka walked into the nearest coffee shop and ordered a small cup of cappuccino, taking a seat near the back window. When the waitress delivered his coffee to him, she instantly recognized who he was and practically begged to pick up his tab in order to get his autograph. He nodded and scrawled his name on a napkin, because he knew she would never leave him alone until he did.
But after a few minutes, it became apparent that he wouldn't find any peace in that coffee shop, because the waitress immediately ran back to the kitchens and alerted everyone that the great and famous Tezuka Kunimitsu, former tennis player and famous pianist was sitting in the back table of their coffee shop and within a measly thirty seconds, he was completely surrounded.
"Tezuka-kun!"
"Tezuka-kun!"
Just like the old times. Tezuka, to put it bluntly, hated attention.
-x-
In short, after grabbing a sandwich at the campus cafeteria, Tezuka showed up in the music laboratory before appointment, and he had to argue with the security guard for approximately fifteen minutes before he could be granted admission. Evidently, the guard had been smoking something.
He sat down at the piano bench and lifted the lid. The logo of Yamaha was engraved delicately in gold threadlike letters about three inches above the music rack. He poised his hands on the keys.
He barely brushed his fingers by the first chords, perfectly in tune. Unlike the antique keyboard he kept in the living room for show, like other things. One note seemed to lead to another, stringing a path that allowed him to escape from the crutches of reality. This was the only reason that he kept playing.
Tezuka stopped abruptly, when the door behind him clicked open, "Don't do that, Kitano-san, knock when you come in." he said without turning. "Why are you here this early?"
The voice that answered was much too familiar, but it was not Kitano-san, "You play beautifully."
He knew who was going to see, the face…though whether he was ready enough to see him face to face, Tezuka didn't know. "Has it been a long time?" he asked, desperately hoping his voice was under control.
"I think it has." The voice was strangely more enticing than what he could recall. "Did you miss me?"
Silken fingers traced his neck; making his skin prickle, though it was not an unpleasant feeling, "Please…stop that."
What, this?" the fingers stopped, leaving a tingling sensation. "You don't like it?"
"No…it's distracting." Tezuka took his hands off the keys, "You're disturbing my practice, if you're done, please leave."
"Tezuka…you've changed." The voice, to an untrained ear, bore no emotion at all, but his ear was trained above all others. "I'm not sure if I like this Tezuka."
"Your point being what?"
"I don't like you like this at all."
"You're not the center of my universe." Tezuka spat out the words as if they were poisoned, maybe if the face had come for him sooner, he would not have…changed so much. "Can you leave now?" he glanced at his watch, 4:25; his manager would not be due until forty-five minutes after. The whole room seemed suffocated with this once well-known presence.
"…Why won't you look at me, Tezuka?"
"I know what you look like…" Tezuka wished the person standing behind would either just leave or disappear altogether.
"Can you do me the courtesy of looking at me when you speak?"
He chose to overlook the comment entirely and began stuffing random papers into his shoulder bag.
"Ne, Tezuka, isn't that your tennis bag?"
He cringed, and dropped the bag with a thud. Yes, it was his tennis bag, but since the Seigaku logo had unraveled long before, he supposed it would be all right to use it, and no one had recognized it yet, including Inui. "Why are you…"
"What?" so innocent, as always.
"Stop…" Suddenly, he was on his knees, breathing heavily for no reason at all, then he felt a hand pressing on his shoulders. "That was a long time ago, it ended, it end—"
"No." the other boy laid a finger on his lips, cutting off the last word, "Don't lie, Tezuka."
"…Who are you?" Tezuka finally summoned enough strength to gasp out.
"You don't remember? Tezuka, you can always forget things you want to forget, how come you still remember this?" Hands neither hot or cold cupped his face, kissing him gently on the forehead, "My name is Fuji, Fuji Syusuke, do you remember now? I think you will."
Then he was gone.
Fuji, Fuji Syusuke, the beautiful nameless face had a name now. It was no longer a nightmare, it was a reality.
"Damn."
-x-
A/N: Yes, I'm a proud Tezuka/Fuji freak, so help me god.
