Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Oujisama and three fourths of my title.

P.R. no 4: Sorry everyone for not updating sooner, school's just been hell lately and obviously contracting writer's block doesn't help...

Façade: His and His Circumstances

--Chapter Three--

Tezuka

"Saa…what's going on here, everyone?" Yamato-buchou's voice cut smoothly through the curses and everything went silent. Deathly silent.

Tezuka didn't turn around and gasp with the rest of the senpais; he merely reached for his wayward glasses and put them back on. Ignoring the throbbing of his left arm, he got to his feet and faced his captain. "Yamato-buchou, I am quitting the tennis club."

Yamato looked down at him. Tezuka thought he heard a collective inhaling from all of the other members, undoubtedly waiting for him to denounce them. As tempting as that was, he resisted.

Yamato said, "Is that so? Then I thank you, Tezuka-kun, for the time and effort you've spent for this club. However, as I have yet to receive your resignation letter, you're still stuck running the 100 laps I'm assigning right now to everyone associated with this mess, myself included. You may begin running after you've paid a visit to the infirmary."

No one was looking at him, no one was even breathing, it seemed, waiting for the axe to fall, "Yes, buchou." He turned and walked toward the exit of the tennis cage. A huge group sigh of relief from the obviously guilt-ridden senpais followed.

"Tezuka-kun."

He turned.

"I overheard you and Oishi-kun talking about the Nationals the other day." Yamato told him simply.

Tezuka touched a hand to his glasses and nodded. "Yes." Nothing else needed to be said.

-----

Fuji

He was serving as Ryuzaki-sensei's errand boy that day, so Fuji hadn't been there when it happened. It was Kikumaru Eiji who bounded frantically into the office without knocking and broke the news. "Fuji, nya!" the up and coming acrobatic specialist leaned against the door to keep himself from collapsing.

Ryuzaki had left to check on the regulars, or so Fuji was told, and he was left with orders to put the files he had in his hands into some kind of chorological order. He dropped the files without thinking, ruining the handiwork of the past hour and knelt beside Kikumaru. "Eiji, what's wrong? Shouldn't you be at practice? Didn't sensei see you ditch?"

"Nya, I didn't see sensei." Kikumaru said between huge gulps of air, "But Fuji! Something terrible happened! Tezuka…he…"

At the mention of Tezuka's name, Fuji tensed and his 'perma-smile' (As called such by Yumiko) immediately slid off his lips, "What's wrong with Tezuka, Eji?"

"I don't know," Kikumaru shook his head, completely miserable, "I was just minding my own business collecting the balls from the matches you know, and then a huge group gathered around where Tezuka was minding his own business doing swings, and then…" he coughed.

Fuji got up and returned seconds later with a plastic cup half full of ice water, "Drink this, calm down, and then tell me." He ordered firmly.

Kikumaru obliged, coughed again and sat up, leaning against the wall. "Okay, so he was doing swings and like, the senpais just jumped him. I heard him yell something about how tennis rackets weren't used to hurt people and then Yamato-buchou showed up and assigned everyone 100 laps, including Tezuka and buchou himself. And then he sent Tezuka off to the infirmary."

Fuji took the plastic cup Kikumaru had been drinking out of and crushed it. When he opened his palm again, he saw faint traces of blood. "Is Tezuka hurt?"

"I couldn't tell, nya…I was too far away." Kikumaru's eyes suddenly grew wide, "…Nya, Fuji, are you bleeding?"

He was at last able to smile as he tossed the cup in the wastebasket beside Ryuzaki-sensei's desk, keeping his hand carefully out of sight. "Don't worry about it, Eiji, you should get back to the courts before they find out you're gone."

Kikumaru stood, "Nya," he shrugged, yet his eyes were still dark with worry, "I just thought you should know. That's all. See ya!" he ran off.

-----

The nurse took one look at his bleeding palm and sighed, "There's a sink in the office, you can wash your hands first and then there's a box of bandages in the cabinet above the sink." She sounded bored, as if she said this a thousand times a day.

"Thank you." Fuji nodded and walked in the room, he stopped short when he saw Tezuka, sitting on the bed reserved for the sicker patients, holding an icepack against his left arm, a little bit above the elbow. "…Tezuka-kun."

"…You lied to me." Tezuka didn't look at him. "…Fuji."

-----

Tezuka

He'd known all along that Fuji would come. But instead of the violent deluge of denials that were sure to follow, Fuji just blinked, "…What do you mean?" he asked, a little too calmly.

"I meant what I said." Tezuka was beginning to get the slightest bit unnerved, "You lied to me. You told the senpais about my hand, and yet you still had the guts to come like this. For that, I admire you."

Fuji shut the door, leaving it open just a crack and made his way over to the sink. "…Your hand? I never told the senpais anything about your hand." He said nothing else after that, letting the spurt of water from the faucet fill the awkward silence between them.

Tezuka stood abruptly, still holding the icepack. "I'm going back." He announced dully, if the circumstances were otherwise, he might have gotten angry, but now, he was only tired. "I still have a 100 laps to run before practice is over."

Iron-cast fingers clamped firmly around his wrist. Tezuka flinched. "Just say you believe me. I didn't tell them anything, I swear. Please…if only for this once…" Fuji's tone was a very odd mixture of desperation, sadness, and disbelief. "…At least pretend you believe me."

"Let go." Tezuka said faintly. And surprisingly the other boy obeyed. He looked at his wrist and was vaguely surprised at the dry traces of blood. "Why are you bleeding?" he asked warily.

"How else was I supposed to get in here? But don't worry, it's nothing serious. I'm more worried about you than about me." Fuji took a step backwards towards the sink. "Your arm looks very swollen."

The reply Fuji gave unexpectedly warmed him. But still the fact remained that he had lied, when he promised his silence. Tezuka sat back down on the bed and stared at his shoes. Being at a loss for words was a new experience for him, he was more used to thinking up long preambles inside his head and never saying anything.

Fuji seemed to sense what he was thinking. Though he made no move to touch Tezuka again, to hold him in place, his words alone were enough. "…I'll tell you one last time, you can either take it, or leave it. I had nothing to do with this. Even if you storm out of here and never talk to me again. I want to know you at least, pretended to believe me."

"Why should I believe you?" Tezuka countered guardedly.

"Because I never break any promises. I never have, and I will not start now." Fuji wore no smile, which was a first, at least, for Tezuka, "Because you are Tezuka."

Those ceruleaneyes told him so much, yet so little. Tezuka sighed, "I don't understand you."

Fuji's smile appeared practically out of nowhere, drying his hands with a paper towel, he skipped over to the bed and sat, "Nor I, often, nor anyone else, for that matter." He said, suddenly sober again, perhaps reminded of his conversation with his sister a few weeks before, "But you believe me?"

"I have no reason to not believe you." Was all Tezuka could think of to offer. "Unless you care to give me a reason."

"I could, but I don't want to." Fuji's pointer finger trailed idly up his arm to where the icepack was, "Does it still hurt, Tezuka?"

"…Not so much now."

"I'm glad." Fuji said, he laid his head lightly on his shoulder and didn't say anything else.

Had it been someone else, Oishi for instance, who made such a forward gesture, Tezuka would have resisted, but in Fuji's case, it didn't seem that disturbing, somehow. So he let it be.

-----

"…Ano, Tezuka-san," a timid voice called them back. "If you're feeling better, Yamato-senpai would like to see you back on the tennis courts…he said something…" she trailed off and gasped.

Tezuka turned, and to his fresh horror, saw a girl, (first year, by the looks of her), staring back at him with the strangest expression. He felt a gentle weight on his shoulder and realized why. Shoving Fuji off roughly, he stood. "…Please tell him I'll be there shortly."

"Uh, yes, I'll do that." The nameless freshman actually exited the room backwards. After she was officially out of earshot, Fuji pulled him down and put his head back where it was. "Saa, Tezuka-kun, that hurt. If you'd wanted me to move, you only have to ask."

"…Sorry."

"Were you ashamed of being seen with me like this? You can tell the truth, I won't get mad."

Tezuka dropped the icepack as an excuse to jar Fuji from his original position; he got to his feet once more and walked over to the sink, dropped the icepack (now half melted), and walked back, but did not sit. "…I probably will later, but not now."

Fuji tilted his head and looked at him, "…How soon is later?" he asked, lightly, as he got up as well.

"…Soon. But not yet."

Fuji laughed then, Tezuka assumed it was just for the sake of laughing, because this circumstance was anything but amusing. "Did Yamato-buchou really assign himself 100 laps, Tezuka?"

"Yes."

"You too? Even though you were the one attacked?"

"Yes."

Fuji took his hand; "I'll run them with you, those 100 laps."

Tezuka flinched, and instinctively shook the other's hand off. "It might take a while. Won't your sister worry? Like last time?"

"I'm walking home today." Fuji's reply was uncharacteristically vague, "No one's home."