Disclaimer: POT doesn't and will never belong to me.
Author's POV
The grand mansion stood proudly amongst all its glory of trees and roses gardens. It had been there since the starting of last century. Its owner was rumored to be a grand lord, and now, the son had taken over his 'reign'. It was peaceful in the days, but during the long and cold nights, someone from within the mansion would start to play piano. It was sad, always so melancholy. The same song would repeat itself every night, like a broken record, it played itself over and over again, becoming a lullaby for residents near the mansion.
No one suspected it was ghost or actions of spirits. It was because they knew that the young master in that mansion was a piano pro. Although the only thing they questioned was why did he always play such soul-wrenching music in the night? It was as if he never needed sleep. No one knew, and thus slowly, it became the legend of their small town.
The night came in with a silent rush of wind. Slowly the rushing crowds ebbed to a slow trickle; everything settled and went to sleep. Yet, they were all waiting, waiting for the music which would haunt every corner of the town with its bittersweet flow. And when the music started to play, it truly marked the end of everyone's day, and the beginning of the young master's nightly date with the ghost of his past.
Tezuka's POV
He brushed his hand over the smooth keys of his baby grand piano. The soft ting of the keys set his soul free. It was only during the night was he truly free, from all the demands his family asked of him, as the president of his multi-billion company. No one knew why he wanted to live in this old and barely alive town, in this cold and daft mansion, when he had a cozy family cottage and a sleek and sophisticated apartment, both nearer to his workplace. But being the president and the holder of family purse strings gave him certain advantages; he could live as he pleased just as long as he brought in money for all the silly relatives to spend, and business for the greedy company.
But no one knew why he wanted to come back night after night to his family seat. Then again, no one really knew what he was thinking, period. Or perhaps, more sadly, no one really care, no one bothered to ask what he was thinking, no how well he was doing in his company, or throwing their daughters at him, for hope that one of the placid girls would attract his eyes, or ears with their simpering.
He hated his life, he hated his family and he hated being Tezuka Kunimitsu, the president of a huge company and the heir to one of the oldest title in England. The title had belonged to one of his distant uncle who married his mother's cousin. And now, through a series of unfortunate events, the title is now heirless save him.
He wanted to escape, from the prodding questions from his family and the darn media. He wanted to run, from his past, he wanted to be free, for a few hours, which were why he came back to the old mansion he used to visit when he was but a wee lad of fifteen summers.
He wanted to run from his past, his dark and ugly past, and the past he was careful to hide from everyone. No one must knew about the other boy in his life, no, the other man, he would be a man now, same age as he was. The boy, the man, and the only one in his life, he couldn't let anyone knew about him, can never let anyone see just how important he was to Tezuka.
He was waiting, waiting for the other man to come back to fulfill his promise to Tezuka. It had been so long, anyone might think that the other party would have forgotten some paltry promise made by a little boy to another. But Tezuka knew better, he knew, with all the certainty his heart and soul could summon, that the other man hadn't forgot about their promise, hadn't forgot about the other little boy, alone and sad, the poor little rich boy.
So waited, years after years, and he never stop waiting, with his song, he plead for his other little boy to come back. With his constancy he prayed every night at the same spot, with his music as offerings to God, in hope that God would hear his music and in turn hear his prayers.
Author's POV
Twenty five years ago, Tezuka was born to the great Tezuka family. His future was sealed from the first moment he drew breath. He was taught at a young age to be brave and to be a strong cool person. He was disallowed to show any emotion, any form of emotion was a taboo to him. He grew up, a cold and off-Standish boy. He was lonely, but he never dared to make any fuss out of it. He was Tezuka Kunimitsu, heir to old money and new business. He must be the man, the support to all.
When Tezuka was five, his father sent him to the family seat in outer skirts of London. There he was taught the painful lesson of independence. He was trained by the best master of all. The father of Inui was the best of the best when it came to be independent. And it started Tezuka's life as a loner, and a hunter.
It was until he met another boy, of honey-brown hair, cobalt eyes and an ever-present smile. This young boy of similar age had taught Tezuka the power of love. And slowly, he was drawn out the shell his father had helped him erected around himself.
But his father wasn't happy that another had dared to undermine his authority.
It was the end of their youthful love and friendship.
The next day he was summoned home, his eyes dried, but his heart was wet, with blood from the cruel blow his father had dealt. Since that day, Tezuka had learnt not to trust his father or any one else, for that matter.
After his father passed on, hopefully to hell, Tezuka had taken over the business and made it flourish. Yet in his heart, another shadow lingered, painfully, reminding Tezuka the childhood and love he had lost to the cruelty of his parent.
So when he had staked his claim to his business, and when he deemed it safe to leave the daily operations to others, he left for the old mansion. He fell in love with it, or rather the memories it contained. So nightly, he would return to this spacious manor trying to find solace within the dying embers of the past memory.
"Fuji, where are you? Come back…"
Fuji's POV
He was laughing and waving to everyone as he raced down the wet road beside the seaside. He couldn't wait to reach the pier. It would be his first time to step the island he had been forced to stay since he was but five. The reason why, he couldn't remember, but all he had left of that period of time was another little boy, a solemn boy. He stopped his thoughts, as he knew if he prodded too deeply, his head would split from a headache.
With a small bag swung over his shoulder, he enjoyed the taste of the seawater on his tongue for the last time. He knew he would never return. Not to this place where he had loved and betrayed, been loved and been betrayed. This little island was beautiful on the outside, but on the inside, it was a dark alley filled with live-threatening menaces.
Hopping onto the boat which came only fortnightly, he turned to look at the lazy beach; it is the only thing that still held him back. This beach had been the only comfort he received from all the pain and the ugliness he seen in his little world.
Author's POV
For twenty years, a misunderstanding had kept them apart. For twenty years, the cruelty of Tezuka's father had lived on. For twenty years, the boys had grown and learn to see more with their hearts and less with their eyes. After twenty years, the once brutally separated couple would find each other again. Now, it would be forever if they could fight the hurtful past Fate had dealt them. If and only if when they can conquer the past, could they come together for the future they deserved. Otherwise they would simply be another sacrifice to succumb to the little game Fate loves to play.
Tezuka's POV
He was rushing to work again, after staying a night at the Mansion, he was reenergized. Steering his car with a careless grace, he maneuvered into the lane leading to his headquarters in London. He was thinking of the meeting he was going to have with the Shields' company. And then…he slammed hard on the brakes. He saw…Fuji.
Reversing his BMW swiftly, with no care about any other traffic which might be behind him, luckily there was none. He was back to the spot where I thought, no knew that he saw Fuji. Scanning the stretch of road, he was desperately filtering through the steady stream of passers-by. No, it couldn't be, he was sure he saw Fuji. That man looked too much like the little Fuji he knew, he couldn't be wrong. Could he?
He didn't want to know, not really, if it was Fuji, then why didn't he come to find Tezuka, he was the free one; he wasn't the one being guarded. And if it wasn't Fuji, then Fuji must have been as his father had told him, dead.
He drove on, but his mind now lodged firmly on Fuji and his disappearance for so many years.
Fuji's POV
He jumped into a corner of the street. He was breathing hard, he was scared and he was crying. He saw the man in the BMW. He was so familiar, so…so familiar. He was the boy in his blurred memory. It was him, he was sure. But he couldn't be sure, he couldn't remember, it hurt too much!
When he was sure the car had left, he limped from the corner and went towards the direction the car had came from. He fingered the scar behind his head. It was thin line, made by someone who looked like that man in the car. It was the only reminder he had, beside the man's image, from his past.
He walked on, his destination was unknown. But something was pulling him along, he knew, yet at the same time how exactly the place looked like escaped the weak grasp of his mind. He let it go; he knew pursuing it would be useless. When it was time for it to appear again, it would, he hoped.
Author's POV
The lone man walked and walked, tired and hungry, he reached the out skirt of London. He saw the mansion that was it. He found his home.
He went into the mansion in the dark of the night. It was hauntingly familiar. He couldn't put it into words; it was just so achingly intimate to him. As if many memories of his had been created here, as if he once loved someone here…as if he once lived here!
He wandered, fingered the tapestries feeling their smooth textures. He moved from room to room, his heart ached with all the cozy feeling he felt among all the items he saw. And finally, he saw it. The piano he saw in his dreams.
Sitting down on the plush chair, he lifted the heavy oak cover. Pulling the red clothe covering the keys, he played. The notes seemed to flow from his fingers; it was simple, as if he had done it before.
The song drifted through the musty air of the mansion and curled into the town, sending the people to their dreamlands as usual. Tezuka stopped outside the mansion, the song, this song he had played night after night, only he and Fuji had knew how to play. Could it be?
He ran up the stairs.
Fuji it is you…
Fuji turned, he smiled, and his eyes still blank blue abysses.
He hadn't remembered.
Flashback
Fuji's POV
He didn't want to leave; he didn't want Tezuka to misunderstand him. No, he wouldn't go! He struggled against the bonds which held him fast. Help! Kuni-chan! Where are you? I need you, please.
He fell silent when he heard the old rotting planks creaked. Someone was coming his way. He had to hide, he couldn't face him now. He didn't want to hear any lies that came sprouting out of that evil man's mouth. He twisted his body away from the little door which prevented him from going to his best friend's side.
The door groaned as someone pushed it open. Fuji tried not to shudder in distaste when he smelled the overpowering cologne.
"Fuji, if you would just give up. You get to go free and I can have my son back as well. Isn't it the best solution?" the lightly accented voice cooed to him with all the sweetness of a snake.
"Never! I love Kuni-chan! I will never, ever betray him for the likes of you." He was rewarded a tight slap for his insolence.
"You stupid boy! His name is Kunimitsu, not Kuni-chan! I will not allow you to change my son! He is my heir and you are nothing but a dirt poor little brat!" the pleasant smile slipped from his face, and it was replaced with a cruel snarl.
"You are a monster! I pity Kuni-chan! He is my Kuni-chan!" on and on Fuji screamed at the cruel man who was, for all his riches and up-bringing, a scum of the earth.
And for his screams, he was slapped repeatedly, he felt his lips split and his mouth was cut bloody, and soon his ears rang with a constant loud hum.
"Kuni-chan…he is…my love…" he slipped into the blissful darkness. The last thing he saw was a man with the similar features as Tezuka, but the eyes were filled with such menace, it chilled Fuji.
End of flashback
Fuji's POV
The man in front of him looked so familiar. So familiar that Fuji felt like crying, he wanted to reach out and touch the dark brown hair. But he was scared.
Smiling with his usual casualness, he stood up. Wiping his suddenly-sweaty palms on his rough-fabric pants, he continued to stare at the man. Normally, people would lower their eyes whenever they chance coincide with his ice-blue eyes. But this man remained there, looking at him as if he was a specter.
He moved forward, and as he neared the other man, he drew out a notepad and a pencil. Scribbling furiously on it, he wrote down his name and why he was here, and why he was using the notepad.
Tezuka's POV
He obediently reached out for the notepad. Fuji-looked-alike stood back and smiled a satisfied smile. He seemed convinced that Tezuka would understand everything once he read what he had written.
Looking at the notepad, his eyes widen at his name and as he scanned swiftly through the beautiful handwriting, his heart pounded all the harder. If the note and the man could be trusted, he had found Fuji Syuusuke.
But he was deaf.
He stoned for a little while longer, staring straight at Fuji. Silence tended to make people speak more than questions would. But Fuji stared right back at him, without words just that smile on his beautiful face.
He wanted to reach out to him, to envelop him in his embrace. But too many years had passed and Fuji had forgotten him.
He motioned Fuji to sit. And they started their first conversation in twenty years, with a lot of gesturing and written notes.
Slowly he learnt about the horrors of Fuji's life. His abusive employer, the gossiping neighbors, and the loneliness.
Fuji's POV
He was shocked. A recluse by nature, he had spurned all attempts to draw him out of his shell. But now, he was talking to a man who he must add, was a stranger to him. Yet, somehow, he couldn't resist the plead he seen in this man's eyes. He couldn't reject him, for some unknown reason, he seemed to know him. Tezuka Kunimitsu, such a familiar name. Kuni-chan.
He had unwittingly written the little nickname down on the book. He almost cried out in shock when Tezuka's eyes brimmed with tears. And with speed that would impress leopard, he was pulled into Tezuka's embrace.
The warmth from Tezuka's hug seeped slowly through his bones. Slowly, as if in a dream, he saw Tezuka and himself, both just little boys, running amok in the mansion. He saw their times in the roses gardens. He saw them spending the entire afternoon by a river, and he saw the both of them playing tricks on Inui's father as he tried to chase them back to the study.
And just as clearly, he saw himself being captured by Tezuka's father. He was tortured, living on bread and water. He was slapped repeatedly by the cruel man, thus causing his deafness. And he saw Tezuka's father smiled with such triumph, he was suddenly afraid.
He heard something. Fuji was shocked, for so long now, he had never heard the winds and the sea back at his former residence. Now, he heard something, someone speaking clearly into his ears.
"He was going to marry his cousin. You are just his playmate. You meant nothing to him!" perhaps, it was not due to the slaps, maybe it had been the cruel words, words he tried to block from his conscious self.
Sobbing now he burrowed deeper into Tezuka's body. He wanted to lose himself in Tezuka's warmth. He wanted to escape from all the painful words he heard from Tezuka's father.
"Kuni-chan! I… remembered…I remembered everything."
Author's POV
The entwined couple had found the lost parts of their souls. They had finally found one another after so many hardship and pain. Fate could be kind at times, Fate could feel sometimes. Fate pitied us, the poor humans, who like to weave silly stories to make our lives more colorful.
Note: I have been writing angst since like forever, if you guys want a happy ending, go on to the next chapter. Alternate ending provided!
Two years later
Author's POV
The beautiful couple had been married and was currently living happily in the mansion. Tezuka put aside some time for his company, but mostly, he could be seen in the company of Fuji. They loved grandly yet just as simply. They enjoyed their lives to the fullest, yet sometimes just content to seek warmth within one another's arms.
Everyday, they would hold hands and walk down to the city. And when they reached the city, Fuji would kiss Tezuka and walk back home just as happily alone. Tezuka didn't want Fuji to risk his neck traveling alone home. But Fuji insisted that the walk was good for him too. So the practice went on.
One day, after a hard day at work, Tezuka was relieved to escape from all the demanding workload his company had for him. Heading back to the mansion, Tezuka made his chauffeur drive faster. He couldn't wait to see Fuji again.
But when he reached home, Fuji was nowhere to be found. It took him 45 minutes to cover the entire mansion. Fuji was missing!
Running out in the evening fog, he searched desperately for Fuji. His heart throbbed painfully. Uneasiness made his movements clumsy and he went sprawling onto the ground. When he pushed himself up, his hand connected with a cold hand.
His breaths came in short pants. No, he wanted to scream, no! It couldn't be him, it just couldn't be! Crawling over with fear lodged firmly in his throat, he saw a brown head. Turning the body over gingerly, he saw a pair of blue eyes staring back at him. Lifeless blue eyes, Fuji…was gone.
The police put Fuji's death as a case of robbery and murder. They never found the murderer. But all that had not matter to Tezuka. His love was gone again, he didn't care who killed him, he didn't care, because if he hadn't want to live in the mansion, they could live in his apartment and Fuji would not be killed. He was the murderer! He had killed Fuji!
The town was once again haunted by nightly pieces. But this time, there were no tenderness, only a deep melancholy and a harsh bitterness. Every night, Tezuka had played, he forgot about his responsibility as the president of his company, he forgot his responsibility as a human. He forgot to live.
Tezuka died a bitter old man. His every thought was of Fuji, and his breath was filled with longing for Fuji. Not once, even for the smallest second, had Tezuka forgot to blame himself. Not for a second, not once, had Tezuka forgot to torture himself with images of Fuji. He had killed Fuji indirectly and he would pay for it. He lived an angry life, hating his long life. He couldn't wait to see Fuji again.
Yet when he last closed his eyes in the master bedroom within the cold mansion, a smile graced his lips. His first and last smile after Fuji's death. He had honored Fuji. He could die in peace now, and now, he could see Fuji again.
Fuji, my love, for sixty years I waited, for the chance to meet you again, wait for me a little longer, for I am coming.