Aftermath: Part III

He jerked out of a half-doze at a sound he at first thought to be thunder, but soon recognized as the rumble of the van's side door sliding open. He blinked into the blinding beam of a flashlight, and realized as he did so that he was still lying on his side facing Eiji, their legs and chests lightly touching.

"Look at that," came a soft, disgusted voice. "They're still trying to get it on, even when they're all tied up like that. God, it makes me sick."

The words echoed through his head for a few seconds, not making any sense, maybe because he didn't want them to. Because if that was why they had been taken--if that was why Eiji had been hurt and tied up and kidnapped...

He was spared having more time to think about it when one of the men--the big one who had tackled him on the street--crawled inside the van and grabbed him by the arm. Soon he was being dragged outside, pain shooting through his arm and shoulder, his feet desperately seeking purchase--

He was dropped suddenly onto his stomach on a bed of wet leaves, the scents of damp earth and pine filling his nose--and telling him, in no uncertain terms, just exactly where they had been taken.

A forest.

God.

They were going to kill them out here, weren't they?

They were going to kill them. Why else drag them all the way out into the woods?

He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly so afraid that he could feel every heartbeat jarring through his entire body.

No one would know where they were. No one would even know that they were missing until morning, probably, and by then...by then, their captors could have killed them a hundred times over.

He felt suddenly sick, but with the gag in place, there was nothing he could do. So he drew in a deep breath through his nose and forced himself to open his eyes.

Eiji slammed into the ground beside him, limp as a doll. Oishi watched, stricken, as Eiji's cheek hit hard into the ground, staining his pale skin with mud, dirtying the white band-aid that stuck there. And still, Eiji didn't move. Still, he just lay there with his eyes closed, leaving Oishi feeling cold and lost and alone.

And angry.

By shifting his jaw, he managed to loosen the gag, get it to slide down to his chin.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded, hating the desolate echo of his shout in the distance. He heard the stomp of heavy feet and hurried on, "Why are you--"

He had been able to see them before only by the bright points of their flashlights. Now, he saw the thick shadow of the big one hovering just above him, only a moment before he felt the boot smash into his chest like a sledgehammer.

The air rushed from his lungs so fast that he couldn't even cry out. Pain stabbed through his chest, hot and piercing, and for long minutes, all he could do was lay there on the muddy ground, choking air into his lungs even though every inhalation--every slight shift of his ribs--jolted through him like another kick.

Dimly, he felt the gag being fitted back into place over his mouth, and then he was being lifted off the ground and dragged away. He got one more glimpse of Eiji, red hair falling over closed eyelids, before the pain clouded his vision entirely, and he sank wearily into darkness.

Something in him winced, but it was so small he barely noticed. Because that stupid fag deserved it, and it wasn't like it was gonna kill him or something, getting kicked like that. It'd just make him hurt for awhile, and maybe teach him that he couldn't get away with shit like this anymore--that maybe the fag-lovers back where he lived would put up with that lovey-dovey shit between him and the red-headed kid, but they sure as hell wouldn't.

He felt good as they dragged them off to the cabin. Good, but also weird, like this wasn't real, like it was just some fucked up dream or something--because yeah, he liked to talk big. They both did. But actually doing something like this? Actually knocking out that kid on his front porch, and then grabbing his boyfriend off the street after that mad fucking car chase--who would believe he'd actually do something like that?

And maybe he wouldn't have, if he was alone. But he wasn't--he'd made sure of that when he picked up his cell phone in the restaurant--and now it was like both of them were playing some twisted game of chicken or something, seeing how far they could take this before it was either get off the road or get hit.

And hell, it was kinda fun, too. Seeing that scared look in the kid's eyes, knowing that it was because of them that he was so scared. It was a rush, a thrill. It made him feel like he was alive, like he was a man. Like he could do anything.

But still, something in him winced.

"Fuji...ano..."

Fuji glanced back over his shoulder, surprise flickering across his features. It was getting late, the sky already darkening into evening; the laps and ball clean-up had taken longer than he'd thought they would, and so only now was he lugging his tennis bag out through the school gates and onto the sidewalk.

Taka, he saw, had been leaning against the wall just beside the gates--waiting?

"Taka-san," he said pleasantly, but even he could hear the edge of weariness in his voice. "You weren't waiting for me, were you?"

Taka flushed and looked at the ground. "Well...actually...sort of." He glanced up at Fuji's face. "Did Tezuka really make you run all those laps?"

Tezuka, in a rare showing of mercy, had decided to spare Taka from any punishment besides ten laps, provided of course that he swore never to leave practice without permission again.

Fuji smiled and started off down the sidewalk, keeping his steps slow until Taka had jogged forward to catch up. "Aa, he did." He glanced at the other boy out of the corner of his eye. "Demo, Taka-san...shouldn't you be getting home? Doesn't your father needs your help to run the restaurant?"

Taka waved a hand at him, although it was clear by the slight tightening of his jaw that he had been thinking the same thing. "Iya, daijobu. He's always saying I just get in the way, anyway. I'm sure he won't mind if I'm a little late getting there tonight."

He forced himself to take it one step further, offering a concerned, "Will that be all right? I thought Saturday nights were busiest..."

It wasn't right, manipulating Taka this way. He knew it. But he had to do this alone, and he couldn't waste any time. Even if he would rather stay with Taka-san, let himself be comforted by a gentle smile and an understanding ear, he knew that he couldn't. For Eiji and Oishi.

He expected Taka to be convinced by this logic, and to make a soft apology and then hurry home. He did not expect Taka to catch hold of his arm and drag them both to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Fuji," he said firmly, "I know you're trying to get rid of me."

His eyes widened, but he didn't say anything, didn't acknolwedge or deny it.

"Whatever it is you're planning to do...you shouldn't do it. The police are doing everything they can to find Eiji and Oishi, and so there's nothing we can--"

Something inside of him snapped, and he wrenched his arm out of Taka's grasp. He was shaking, little trembles shuddering up his spine, but he tried to ignore them, tried to breathe deeply and slowly so the shaking would fade, so he could hide behind his calm smile and convince Taka to leave.

Taka was staring at him, looking stunned and a little hurt, but mostly concerned. "Fuji..."

He dodged the hand that tried to touch his shoulder, and instead turned to keep walking. The smile burned on his face. "Taka-san, I appreciate that you want to help. But everything's fine. I understand that there's nothing I can do, and I'm perfectly willing to let the police--"

"No. Fuji..." Suddenly Taka was right in front of him, blocking his path, his eyes dark with determination. "I saw the look in your eyes at practice. It's the same look you had when we faced St. Rudolph--when you played against Mizuki. It's the look that you get when...when one of your friends has been hurt, and you decide to get even. Demo, Fuji...this isn't tennis. You can't challenge whoever took Eiji and Oishi to a match, or use one of your Triple Counters, or..."

"I know that," Fuji said quietly. "I don't intend to."

Taka shook his head helplessly. "Then what...?"

"I'm going to find them," he said in a low voice, and the look in his eyes, reflected back to him through Taka's eyes, was terrifying. "I'm going to find them, and after I help Eiji and Oishi, I'm going to make them pay."

Taka actually took a step back from him, and even he himself was a little taken aback, hearing the cold, deadly note to his voice. But at the same time, he knew that he meant it. He knew that he would do whatever he had to to get Eiji and Oishi back, and to make sure that whoever had taken them regretted it.

He offered Taka a calm smile. "Good night, Taka-san. I'll see you in school tomorrow."

He was still trembling as he brushed past Taka and started off down the sidewalk, but by the time he reached the restaurant, he was back in control, calm and composed, coolly focused.

He hoped Taka-san would understand. But even if he didn't, even if this marked the end of their warm, dependable friendship, he knew that it would be worth it, if it would bring Eiji and Oishi safely home.

Fixing a serene smile onto his face, Fuji pushed open the door and stepped in through the restaurant's lacquered doors. His gaze stayed focused on the cash register and the man waiting in front it, and never once flickered to the side, to the booth by the windows where Eiji and Oishi were not sitting.

japanese glossary:
ano - um...
-san - honorific; attached to end of name to imply respect (e.g., "Taka-san")
aa - yes
demo - but
iya - no
daijobu - it's all right