Aftermath: Part II

who

Fuji was worried. It wasn't an emotion he was accustomed to, or one he handled well, and so when Tezuka snapped at him for missing another shot due to inattention, he felt perfectly justified in walking off the court, putting away his racket, and leaving practice without a word to anyone. He felt Tezuka's eyes on him the whole way, but he didn't turn around, nor did he answer when Taka-san sent a concerned, "Fuji?" in his direction. He just kept on walking, and it wasn't until he stepped off of school property that his feet finally dragged to a halt.

The tennis bag felt heavy on his shoulder, weighing him down, so he let it drop. It hit the concrete with a muffled thud, stirring up a haze of dust that caught in his throat, stung his eyes. He blamed the sudden blurriness of his vision on that, and calmly reached up to wipe the tears away.

Eiji had been missing for three days.

He remembered exactly where he'd been when they got the news. He'd thought it strange that Eiji was missing from class that day, but he hadn't thought too much of it. There were a thousand and one perfectly logical reasons why Eiji might be absent from school, and so Fuji didn't waste time worrying over it. He wasn't Oishi, after all. He just paid extra attention in class—which, for him, was still minimal—and actually devoted himself to taking a few notes, since he was sure Eiji would need them when he returned.

It was lunchtime when one of the freshman—Horio—came up to him with the news of an impromptu tennis team meeting at the club house. Again, he thought little of it. It wasn't until he stepped inside and saw the team members sitting in utter silence and stillness that he realized something was wrong. Ryuzaki was standing at the front of the room, her customary gruffness softened by the worry lining her face.

"Come in and sit down, Fuji," she said, noticing him standing there, frozen, in the doorway.

He didn't move. The sense of wrongness hung heavy in the air, almost choking him with sudden, irrational fear. He tried to tell himself that he was overreacting, that just because it was clearly bad news didn't mean it was worth getting this upset over…but one look at his teammates told him otherwise. Their faces were pale and serious, not a word or glance passing between them.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly.

Approach the situation calmly and logically. Find out what's going on, and then deal with it.

Ryuzaki sighed. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Fuji, but the school's just had a call from Kikumaru's parents."

There was an icy tightness in his chest all of a sudden, cold and clenching. It was all he could do to open his mouth and ask, "What happened?"

"Kikumar…Eiji…didn't come home last night after practice. His parents have looked everywhere, checked with everyone they know, but no one seems to have any idea where he is. I called this meeting on the request of his parents, to ask if any of you had seen him, or knows where he might have gone."

"Oishi," he managed. Not liking the shaky sound of his voice, he cleared his throat and went on, "He was with Eiji last night. If anyone knows where Eiji is…"

But Ryuzaki was already shaking her head, and it was only then that he noticed. His eyes scanned the assembled group, going from one taut, worried face to the next. Tezuka. Inui. Kaidoh. Momoshiro. Echizen. Taka-san. But the one face he knew he should be seeing—the face that should be the most worried of them all—was nowhere to be found.

"It's no good," Ryuzaki said softly. "Oishi is missing, too."

Fuji closed his eyes and leaned back against the stone wall that surrounded the school. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Two friends and teammates gone missing, no one with any idea as to what had happened to them or where they might be, and with every passing day, the chances of their safe return grew slimmer.

It was like something out of a nightmare.

A hand closed gently over his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see Taka-san standing beside him, his face caught in its usual open, honest expression, his large brown eyes hiding nothing.

"Fuji," Taka said in a quiet voice. He seemed to want to say more, but the words must have failed him, because he just shook his head. His hand still rested on Fuji's arm.

Fuji managed a slight smile for his usual doubles partner, and reached over to cover Taka's hand lightly with his own. "You should go back to practice, Taka-san. Tezuka won't go easy on you for leaving early."

Taka shook his head. "I could say the same to you."

"Aa, you could."

Silence stretched between them for a moment. Then Taka-san's grip on his arm tightened, just noticeably, and those large brown eyes suddenly averted their gaze.

"I know you're really worried about him," Taka said in a low, determined voice. "Them. I am too. We all are. But Fuji…" He shook his head, his thick brows pushing together in a frown. He was silent for another moment, then his eyes suddenly snapped up to meet Fuji's.

"Demo Fuji," he said more firmly, "we have to stick together. All of us, as a team. It's the only way we can get through this. And…we're stronger together, aren't we? If we stay together, I know we'll be okay, and when Oishi and Eiji come back, we'll be able to be there for them, like real teammates. Like real friends. But if we fall apart… If we let this tear us apart, then…then…"

There was no more dust from the sidewalk, so he couldn't blame the sudden stinging of his eyes on that. Nor did he have any excuse for reaching out to take Taka's hand in his and squeeze the larger fingers tightly.

"Hai, Taka-san," he said softly. "You're right. Gomen."

Taka seemed surprised that his words had had the desired effect. His mouth opened and closed without sound for a moment, then he shook his head and managed, "So…you'll come back to practice?"

Fuji nodded, and at last let go of Taka's hand in order to pick up his tennis bag and sling it over one shoulder. "Aa, I'll come back. And Taka-san…"

"Hm?"

He smiled, not the easy, fake smile that hid his eyes, but a real one, one that let Taka see the truth of the emotion in his gaze. "Arrigato."

They walked back to the courts together, their arms brushing lightly as they moved. Fuji had to admit that Taka's presence always had a calming influence on him, and now was no exception. It seemed that the ache in his chest had lessened considerably since Taka had drawn him from his dark thoughts, and even though the fear still lurked in the shadows of his mind, for now, he could drift in the warmth of his friend's presence, and pretend that everything would be all right.

The rest of the team pointedly did not look up when they arrived, but Fuji sensed their attention as he and Taka approached Tezuka. The stern-faced captain was also carefully ignoring them, and didn't glance away from the practice matches until Fuji bowed low and said, "Sumimasen deshita, Buchou."

At that, Tezuka waited another few seconds—just to show that he could, Fuji was sure—and then finally turned to face his wayward teammates. "50 laps," he said. "And ball clean-up for the rest of the week."

Fuji bowed again. "Hai, Buchou."

Tezuka nodded sharply. "Get back to practice."

"Hai."

"Fuji."

He had been turning away, already reaching into his bag for his racket, but he stopped at the sound of Tezuka's voice and turned back.

Tezuka wasn't looking at him, his eyes fixed on a match between Echizen and Momoshiro.

"I understand how you feel," the captain said in his gravelly, toneless voice. "If I thought it would help, I would cancel practice until Oishi and Kikumaru are found." Tezuka shook his head, looking suddenly tired, and like something heavy was pressing down on his shoulders. "But it wouldn't help. Not them…or us. All we can do is what we normally do."

He nodded, but he knew even as he did that it wasn't true. Because that wasn't all they could do, was it?

He had always done whatever necessary to protect his friends. No matter the cost, no matter the danger to himself. Now should be no different.

He would find them, he decided, holding the racket tight in his hands as he waited for Taka-san's serve.

He would find them, and God help whoever he found to be responsible.

why

It was disgusting, that's what it was. Doing that in public, in a restaurant where people could see. It made him sick.

No, not sick. Angry. Furious. How dare they. How dare they flaunt it like that, how dare they act like it was okay, like it was normal, when really it was filthy and disgusting and wrong.

Somebody should teach them a lesson, he thought, absently tearing at the edges of the menu. Somebody should…

where

Darkness. Cold stone under his cheek. Pain in his head, in his arms, in his wrists and ankles where the rope cut into his skin. Tears stinging his eyelids, but he didn't dare cry. With the heavy cloth tied over his mouth, he would suffocate if his nose clogged with tears. And no one had been in even once to check on him, so no one would know if he was in trouble. No one would come and take off the gag so he could breathe, so he could cry.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go to school, and go to tennis practice, and hang out with Fuji and give Oishi a big hug and laugh and joke about stupid stuff at the noodle place. He wanted this to be a dream, and for him to suddenly wake up and be lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, and then he could go to school and tell Oishi all about it, and Oishi would reach out and touch his shoulder and tell him that it was okay…daijobu, Eiji…

The voice wasn't real, it was just Oishi in his imagination, but he latched onto it and let it comfort him. And if he closed his eyes, he could pretend that Oishi was sitting there with him. That Oishi's hand was sliding gently through his hair, and that his arms weren't tied behind his back, but were wrapped around Oishi's chest. Oishi's arms were warm and strong around his back, holding him close, and he knew that everything would be okay, because Oishi was here. Oishi was here with him.

"Oishi," he whispered, but it sounded muffled and weird, and that was when he remembered that he was alone in a dark place with a gag pressing into his mouth, and Oishi wasn't here at all.

But he wouldn't cry.

how

Oishi was smiling as he turned onto the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets, his body still tingling with the memory of Eiji's lips on his. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that it could turn out this way, that Eiji would not only truly accept his apology and forgive him, but that they would reach this new level of closeness. That they would…kiss. He felt warm just thinking about it, and couldn't help grinning like an idiot at the thought of how perfectly everything had turned out.

There was plenty to worry about, of course, and just because they had kissed didn't mean that Eiji wanted to have that sort of relationship with him…but for now, he felt good, Eiji had forgiven him, and everything was right.

By the time he noticed the van following him, it was too late. It had been trailing him for the last block or so, headlights off, inching along a few feet behind him. He had heard the growl of its motor, of course, and had been at least peripherally aware of it, but only now did he stop to think how odd that was, a van creeping along like that with no lights on. He risked a glance over his shoulder, not really all that concerned, thinking that maybe it was someone wanting directions, or just a bunch of teenagers testing their courage…

The van stopped. All he could see of its occupants were two shadows in the front seats. He shrugged and turned around again, walking a little faster now.

He heard the click of one of the doors opening, then the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the sidewalk. Heavy footsteps, running fast—running towards him.

It suddenly occurred to him that it was dark and late and that this particular section of road was so shaded by trees that no one would be able to see what happened here. He didn't waste time glancing behind him—he ran for it, his arms pumping at his sides, his sneakers slapping hard into the sidewalk. In another block or two, there would be an intersection, a 24 hour gas station, people and lights—he just had to get there, outrun whoever-it-was for that long…

But he had forgotten about the van. He remembered it, suddenly, when he heard the squeal of tires and suddenly it was right there beside him. It soared past him, looking like something out of a nightmare in the hellish orange glow of the street lamps—and then it swerved up onto the sidewalk and skidded to a stop, blocking his path and forcing him to slow his frantic sprint and turn, try to go around it—

But it was too late. Rough hands slammed into his back, propelling him forward, and the next thing he knew he was lying face-down on the sidewalk, and someone was wrenching his arms up behind his back and tying his wrists. He tried to struggle, opening his mouth to cry out—

"Don't," a rough voice snapped, and he winced as strong fingers got grip on his hair and yanked backwards, until his head was arched back at a painful angle. "Don't you dare scream. You make a sound and he'll pay for it."

The breath caught in his throat.

No. No, that was impossible. Eiji would be safe inside his house by now—he wouldn't be in any danger from these…

But what if…?

"What are you talking about?" he managed.

The grip on his hair tightened painfully, and the rough voice now seemed tinged with amusement. "Your little boyfriend. You make a sound, and we'll make it real bad for him. So bad you won't recognize him when we're through."

No. No, no, no…

Eiji…

Before he could find his voice, a thick strip of cloth was tied tight over his mouth, and he was being dragged up off the ground and shoved towards the van's open door.

It wasn't true. Eiji was fine. Eiji was safe, in his house where his family could protect him. Eiji was safe.

He hit the floor of the van hard. It was a moment before he got his breath back, and longer before he could drag himself into a semi-sitting position without the use of his hands. He shook his head to clear it, glancing around the dark, messy interior, able to see only by the faint moonlight seeping through the hinges of the closed door.

Eiji was lying a few feet away from him, looking small and pale with his arms tied behind him, his eyes tightly closed.

He barely noticed the rumble of the van starting, or the jolt of the wheels rolling it back onto the road. He certainly didn't notice his own discomfort, or the way the ropes tore into his wrists as he crawled painstakingly to Eiji's side.

With his arms behind his back, he couldn't reach out to touch his friend. He couldn't pull him into his arms or untie him or do anything but sit there staring, feeling like someone had taken a hold of his heart and was clenching, twisting.

Oh, God, Eiji…

Why did they do this to you?

As the van rocked and jolted on the road, Oishi lowered himself down to the floor, so he was lying on his side facing Eiji. And even though he couldn't wrap his arms around the other boy, he could at least lean their foreheads lightly together, and pray that somehow, Eiji would know he was here. That somehow, Eiji would sense his presence and hold on.

I'm sorry, Eiji.

I'm so sorry…

I couldn't protect you.

japanese glossary:
demo - but
aa / hai - yes
sumimasen deshita - i'm sorry (formal)
buchou - captain
-san - honorific / attached to end of name to show respect (e.g., "Taka-san")
gomen - i'm sorry (informal)
arrigato - thank you