TITLE: Boku no Koe A Tale of Complexities
PART: Six
MAIN PAIRINGS: Sanada Genichirou x Kajimoto Takahisa and Atobe Keigo x Tezuka Kunimitsu.
SIDE PAIRINGS: Oshitari Yuushi + Mukahi Gakuto, Ohtori Choutarou x Shishido Ryou
GENRE: Yaoi (Alternate Universe/ Humour/ Angst / Romance)
DISCLAIMERS: All the series I'm referring to in this fic, as well as all the brand names and real-life studios, do not belong to me… only this twisted story does.
NOTE #1: Blah or Blah is for emphasis. /Blah/ is for conversations over the phone or flashbacks (if any). /Blah/ is for the conscience or whatever inner voice there is talking. Blah is for thoughts or random Japanese words. Some of these words are footnoted at the end of every page (I'm beginning to understand the need for footnotes in fiction. Thank you dear friend, you know who you are. XD).
NOTE #2: This is inspired by Youka Nitta's manga "Boku no Koe", hence the title, but the story is not quite the same. Special Thanks to DelusionalLady for opening this topic up while we were chatting over the phone the other day. I just have to remind you guys that this is an alternate universe fic. I am not using the characters' seiyuu, but I'm using them, as themselves dubbing other stuff (i.e. Tezuka being the seiyuu of Brad Crawford in Weiss Kreuz, etc.), and Tennis no Oujisama does exist in this world though the characters, instead of the regular names we know, are named after the real seiyuu. I'm twisted, I know. XD I'm just reminding you these to avoid confusion, should you read this fic. And yes, their ages are different here too. XD
NOTE #3: There are records corresponding to the schools in Tennis no Oujisama. They are:
Kooun Limited
BHI (Black Horse Inc.)
Teikoku Songen
MG (Masterpieces Group)
Yuushousha Studios
PT Unlimited (Polar Talents Unlimited)
Hashira Kin
Playhouse Productions
Everything will be explained as the story goes on.
NOTE #4: These are mostly from the point of views of the uke; so don't be mad that the seme do not have as much screen time.
DEDICATION: This is dedicated to all of you guys who have had this fancy eating your brains for a long while now. We have to wonder after all, how is it working as a seiyuu? I personally have seen a friend of mine work as a 'dubber' locally, and I guess, most of the stuff here is based from what I have observed as well as based from the info I have collected over the years.
DAIROKUBU: TSUZUKERU
(Sixth Part: To Continue)
It was the worst way such kind of conversation should be terminated. Tezuka wouldn't have realised that people were already pouring inside if not for the hard knock on the other side of the booth's fibreglass windows. It was Sanada. He was thankful somehow that it wasn't a woman or squealing would definitely be heard within a radius of a mile.
Atobe, for once, was back to his usual self, doing his normal tirade, grousing over them being so late when 'Ore-sama' had grown tired of waiting. Tezuka had seen transformations like this before... just not that instantaneous. It bothered him, and a part of him twinged with hurt at the thought that the guy was just talking to him because of boredom. It didn't seem that way when he first saw him.
Silently, he nodded, eyes drawn to the script in his hands. He couldn't bring himself to open it yet. For some strange reason, his balance was nowhere to be found. He usually had that, composed core inside him before dubbing starts, but now, it was shattered, and he couldn't concentrate. Taking a deep breath, he decided that calming himself was a good way to start the process of finding his centre.
His gaze shifted, coming to rest on the table's centrepiece. The huge shallow crystal bowl was filled with sparkling water and pink flowers were floating in circles on the surface. He wondered, if the bowl were alive, would it be content just to carry such beauty... without touching it? Or would it...
"It's not going anywhere."
He started, turning in surprise at the one who intruded upon his thoughts. "Ah. Sanada."
"It's not healthy." Sanada muttered, giving him a strained smile.
Tezuka smiled slightly back, tearing his eyes away from Sanada's inquisitive gaze. "I was just... thinking."
"About?"
"Things."
"Don't think too much. You don't have to think too much – you only need to understand that life isn't what you want it to be and then live each day carefully." Sanada's words made a lasting impact on him. Such were the same words he made himself believe and tried to live up to every single day of his blessed life.
Not to be careless.
/Yudan sezu ni ikkou/ He remembered his character's words. It was something he usually said when things were going the other way. However, it was easier said than done. Hell, from what he read in the scripts his character was too careless and got himself injured!
"It is hard to do that." He said quietly.
Silence.
Then, Sanada spoke just as quietly. "I know. But it's the only thing we can do to be able to live."
Silence.
Tezuka, for the lack of words to say, decided it would be best to veer the conversation away from him. Giving Sanada a questioning look, he voiced what had been bothering him since he first knocked on the booth windows a while ago. "You're not supposed to be here."
Sanada flinched as if the mere question burned. "Nothing better to do."
"You don't have a recording."
"I need to mingle."
"You're not mingling."
"..."
Tezuka looked away. "You have been careless as well, am I right?" It didn't take a genius to know what had happened. When Sanada decided to mingle, it only meant that he was troubled. Wakato Shin introduced them four years ago, and they had a lot of contact through him, as well as through the projects in which Sanada helped directing. They became friends.
"A bit." Sanada allowed, nodding miserably.
"Hey, hey, hey." Came a very cheerful voice. Both men looked up to see Wakato Hiroshi smiling down at them prettily, and soon two consecutive snickers sounded, prompting the source of amusement to smack them both with a rolled up magazine. "Don't laugh!" he commanded, which made Sanada and Tezuka fall silent – as silent as they could as they tried smothering their laughter.
Wakato, as usual, was clothed in what seemed like Hollywood-mafia mode. The fur coat in itself was hideous, and coupled with his orange-dyed hair, well, he bordered on the ridiculous. Underneath his coat was a leopard-print shirt... and then the faux leather pants... and then the fluffy leopard-feet slippers. He looked like he had just finished playing dress-up with children.
"You just looked –"
He held up his hand in irritation. "I look hot! No, don't say anything – let me delude myself."
Tezuka shook his head and cocked an eyebrow in question. Sanada, as usual, didn't believe in anything but questions, so he went on ahead and asked. "What are you doing here?"
Wakato sighed, plopping playfully on Sanada's lap. "Oh, hush." He admonished as his human chair protested. "I'm here to pick up my script for the Jyousei Shounan episodes." He beamed, gesturing wildly with his hands. It made Tezuka's heart ache, seeing such motion, since they don't look much different than Atobe's. He snuck a glance at the booth where said person was working.
There are Jyousei Shounan episodes? All I have seen are from Seigaku, and from my script now, Fudomine. Wait... Atobe's here because? His mind was on hyperdrive as he processed the information in his mind. Ah nevermind. He sighed inwardly, switching his attention back at the newcomer. "How's the incognito thing going?" He asked curiously. Wakato had been 'company-hopping' ever since his first company suffocated him with offers he didn't like. It seemed that if the people inside a company he was in made such a big deal over him and his reputation, he would instantaneously quit. So what he did was change his hair colour, wear lots of coloured contact lenses, change his given name and change his personality. He had been in six companies before the present one, and in all of them, the first person who knew him and kept his secret was the owner.
His real name was Wakato Shin (1).
Now, he was at Masterpieces Group and went by the name of Wakato Hiroshi. Of course, he called his old friends who didn't change their opinion of him however famous he became, and told them about the change of company and of his name. He and Sanada were part of those tight knit of connections. Tezuka hoped for Wakato's peace... that he would finally settle in the company he was in to save him from further trouble. For someone who was in the business, he hated being recognised publicly. And for someone who acted like a diva most of the time, he was being so private.
"Going well, actually." He said airily, with his usual flair. "I think I finally found the right company to settle in."
Sanada, after a lot of time struggling, finally succeeded in pushing him off his lap, rendering Wakato sprawled ungracefully on the floor. "Really."
"Ow! That hurts!" And they glared at each other, as per usual. Tezuka didn't understand the chemistry between the two. They seemed to hate each other's guts most of the time and yet they continued being friends. Ah, complexities of human relationships he did not have the faintest idea about. Finally, Wakato had enough and rolled his eyes, turning to Tezuka with a slight grimace. "This person is still as evil as I first knew him!" He declared, picking himself up and sitting on a proper seat beside him. Sandwiched between the gruesome twosome, he didn't know if he could survive the whole recording session. He just hoped they didn't create a scene or he would stuff their mouths with the couch's throw pillows.
"And you are still as mentally challenged as when we first met." Sanada groaned, placing a calming hand on his forehead and rubbing it in irritation. "Whatever have I done to deserve knowing someone like you...?"
"Heh," Wakato sniffed haughtily. "You've done a lot of good deeds to deserve someone as great as I am." Sanada didn't have the drive to refute his words anymore, it seemed. Tezuka, relaxed for the meantime. The usual we-meet-again squabble finally came to an end. "Anyway, as I was saying, I think I'm settling in the Masterpieces Group. It's very low-key and yet there are lots of really amazing people in there!"
Sanada adjusted his baseball cap and snorted. "Like who? The general manager who seems to have a flair for very low-cut tops and shorter than short skirts? Or are you talking about the hulking guy who is at her beck and call?"
He flicked a stray orange strand of hair off his forehead defensively. "Oh, you mean Hanamura-san and Shinjou-kun! Well, they're not all as stupid as you think you jerk. I'll have you know, there's this very interesting guy named Kajimoto Takahisa who seems to have issues with yaoi dramas, and then there's – oi, Gen-chan, you alright? You seem to be going green around the gills."
"I'm not a fish." The other muttered clearing his throat and schooling his expression to that of the usual seriousness. "And I'm not decaying."
It took a small percentage of Tezuka's brainpower to understand why Sanada was like this. He had never seen him as besotted by someone all the years he had known him – maybe when another mutual friend, Yukimura Seiichi was still alive...
He frowned. Then that means he's... his eyes widened in realisation and he gave him a furtive glance. He likes Kajimoto Takahisa? "You're troubled." He said as gently as he could. It was probably his tone that made Wakato realise he just struck a nerve.
Sanada raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I don't want to talk about it." He sighed with a small, wry grin. "Ask later when I'm more stable."
Wakato raised his brow in question. He was openly curious, but he staunched his wont to get the scoop as he noticed the frustration in his friend's eyes. For a brief moment, he met Tezuka's eyes and both shrugged, knowing it was futile to press on. Gathering up his newly found Wakato Hiroshi persona, he 'Hmph-ed', stood up and crossed over to Sanada's side, swatting him with his script and proceeding to sit once again on his lap.
Soon enough, to Tezuka's dismay, the bickering started.
OxxxOxxxO
"Oi, Hajime!"
Mizuki turned and waved back as Mukahi, jogging, approached him. It was already eight-thirty in the evening and their recording was over. He was in the process of picking up his coat when the redhead caught his attention. He was worried about him, since Mukahi was covered with band-aids the moment he walked in the studio. No one asked him for an explanation, though Mizuki knew the others were also wondering what happened to him to make him look as if he was run over by a bike. Seki, their senpai, was the one who was worried the most, protectiveness showing in his eyes as he adjusted his eyeglasses before giving him a can of Ponta with a comforting smile.
After the recording, they all crowded around him and asked what happened, the question which was answered by, you guessed it, he was run over by a speeding bike. It came to Mizuki that maybe, just maybe, he was psychic. Yeah right. Snorting inwardly over such a childish idea, he distanced himself from the crowd and decided that Mukahi needed more space if what he said was the truth. Being run over by a bike was nothing short of painful, and those bruises were good indications of said pain. However, he still doubted it. With the way he looked, it was much more than a bike accident. It seemed like something was broken in him.
Mizuki deduced it was because he still didn't have a company to be a member of. Mukahi would never be able to survive in the industry without a company to back him up. He was not suited to be a freelancer at all. It was not that he was weak... it was because he was the kind of person who seemed to thrive in a crowd. He was more confident and sure of himself when he had a stable foundation of people under his belt. Well, whatever happened, Mizuki swore he would never let him out on his own. As long as Mukahi needed him, he would be more than happy to help. After all, he wasn't as heartless as most people thought he was.
He smiled as Mukahi finally reached him. "Hajime!" he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry to make you wait, but, I was wondering if you want to go to Tezuka-senpai's house tonight for dinner?"
"Eh?" Mizuki was puzzled. "What's the occasion?"
"I dunno, we're supposed to have coffee, but he said dinner would be better and told me to drag in anyone who was okay with the idea of being in his house."
"Hmm, I don't have anywhere to go and I have nothing better to do, so..." He mumbled thoughtfully before finally deciding to give in. "Okay." He chuckled as Mukahi grabbed him by the shirtsleeves and pulled him out of the studio amid catcalls from the staff and cast watching them inside.
"Nfufufu." He went in amusement. "Gakuto-kun, I'm sure you love being with me, but darling, you can't just drag me off somewhere like this, you're acting like a hor –"
Mukahi dropped his arm in mortification and glared. "Geh!" He stuck out his tongue. "You're not my type!"
Mizuki gave him a teasing look and coiled his hair around his finger. "You're just too shy to admit it, lover."
As Mukahi sputtered in embarrassment, Mizuki walked past him as he put on his coat, laughter echoing happily in the corridors.
"Hajime, you are horrible!"
OxxxOxxxO
Of course Atobe had been watching.
In between his takes, he slanted Tezuka's small noisy group searching looks. He had always thought that the bespectacled man was simply beautiful when smiling – or laughing as the present case may be. It warmed his heart a bit, seeing him enjoying himself now rather than the tired look he had been sporting earlier, when they got out of the booth.
If only the others didn't come earlier than expected, he and Tezuka might've had an even deeper conversation. It was the first time they had such interaction, and all was shattered at Sanada's first knock on the glass windows. He kicked his friend mentally for his untimely disturbance, swearing to tell Shiba, his secretary, to make his life a living hell for it. Sanada had been sort of his childhood friend, sort of, since they knew and beat each other up since kindergarten along with Yukimura, Yanagi and Shishido. And, being childhood friends meant that he had the right to interfere with him when he wanted to, so that was what he was going to do – once he thought of some sort of payback for interrupting him in such a crucial moment – deliberately or not.
He frowned.
He sounded like a vengeful maniac.
Sighing inwardly, he took off his headset. He had just finished his recording, and soon, it would be Tezuka's turn. Without a word, he turned the knob and opened the door wide. With long purposeful strides, he reached the small cosy group and slipped his hands inside his pockets. Irritation erupted as he saw Tezuka stiffen upon seeing him. It seemed as if he didn't make a dent on him at all, and it was frustrating in his part. He had always wanted to make an impact on the man, but all he did was make reason for him to stay away. He must be losing his touch – at least, in the wooing department.
Wooing? Well, it was something he thought he was doing a very good job of. He wanted to woo him to stay at his side, be with him, to touch, to hold... to comfort. He had always seen Tezuka's eyes filled with something akin to sadness, and he wanted to know why – and acquire the power to get the emotion out. Apparently, he wasn't doing it good enough.
"Tezuka." He heard himself say using his most confident tone. "It's your turn."
The man immediately stood up and walked quickly to the booth enough without making it seem he was escaping from him. However, the damage had been done, and Atobe's insides contracted. It was clear that he was trying to stay away– as far and as fast as possible. His eyes followed Tezuka's form until he was well inside the booth. He gazed at him as he put on the headset and opened the folder containing the script.
He was skittish, that much was obvious, and it wouldn't take a genius to know that it was his gaze that made him that way. Shaking his head inwardly, he turned back to the others, only to see the staring at him perplexedly. Making eye contact, he raised a questioning brow. "I know I look hot, but please, snap your mouths shut and snap out of it." He quipped wryly.
"Atobe-kun... do you have any problem with Tezuka-san?" Wakato asked curiously.
Where do I start? He spat inwardly. "None that I know of." He acknowledged, waving a hand dismissively. "Why do you ask?"
"He's nervous."
"Well, people do get nervous when they're about to do something important, right?"
"And you stare at him too hard all the time." Wakato finished with a flourish. "You want something from him."
Atobe gave him a tired look before turning away and focusing on the table's centrepiece. It calmed him somewhat, gazing at the flowers floating on the surface of the shallow water-filled crystal bowl. "What makes you say that?"
"You and your father, have the same look when trying to get something important – I have seen that trademark stare before when he was still alive and I was being invited by him to join your company."
"I'm not my father."
"But you have the same genes." Wakato smiled indulgently. "And you look exactly like him, so I can tell."
Silence.
"I don't want anything from him." He admitted, eyes still glued on the bowl. "I want him."
The revelation rendered Wakato shocked and speechless. It was only because Sanada knew about it already that he was pressed to just being silent. He gazed thoughtfully at Atobe and a sudden burst of wry irony engulfed him. They're just the same... the two of them. He thought in amusement. They both wanted to get out of the box they're placed in... Trying to grasp something that would complete them.
And they both have an affinity for staring at the same things when troubled.
"It's not going anywhere."
He started, turning in surprise at the one who intruded upon his thoughts. "Ah.""
"It's not healthy."
Atobe smiled slightly back, tearing his eyes away from his inquisitive gaze. "I was just... thinking."
"I know."
See, very much the same. Sanada thought, chuckling inwardly.
OxxxOxxxO
"Ruriko-chan!"
"Goku-niichan!" Tezuka Ruriko bounded over to the genkan and jumped up into Mukahi's arms. She peeked right behind him and her smile grew even more. "Wai! It's your girlfriend!"
Mizuki laughed as he placed his shoes on the top level of the shoe rack. "He's a wonderful boyfriend."
"Hajime – teme..." The irritation was evident in Mukahi's voice as he carried Ruriko snugly in his arms, but of course, Mizuki knew him all too well, and decided that it was safe enough to play along. Giggling, he pointedly ignored him and patted the little girl's head affectionately. "You know, you look exactly like your father... except that you're all bright, smiley and not anal-retentive at all."
The girl brightened. "Really? My friends say that too!" Her grin was enough to render anyone blind, and Mizuki found himself giving a smile that was just as bright back.
"Which one, about you looking like your father or you being not anal-retentive?" He asked curiously, wondering if she knew what his words meant.
Ruriko giggled and gave him a conspiratorial wink. "Both – they said papa was too serious."
Oh yes, she understood. What a bright kid! I wonder... would I have one this amazing as well? His thoughts betrayed the loneliness he felt. Mizuki still hadn't found the right person to settle down with. It felt as if he had been looking all his life and no one was knocking long enough for him to notice. Sighing inwardly, he focused on his present situation and straightened up, giving the girl one last smile before turning to Mukahi. "I thought he'd be here by now? It's already ten minutes to nine..."
Mukahi had recovered from his former irritation and hi features turned thoughtful. "I don't know, he said he would be meeting me, and anyone I bought with me, here at around eight thirty... maybe his schedule was mixed up a bit." He put the little girl down and smiled at the elder lady who was babysitting her. "Ah, is it okay if we wait?"
"Yes, of course!" She beamed in welcome, her gnarled skin wrinkling even more as her features relaxed. "Tezuka-san called and told me that you would be coming over. Come." She ushered them to the living room, with Ruriko pulling both their hands.
Once seated, the child decided to sit on Mukahi's lap, wiggling to find herself a more comfortable position. Once settled, he put his arms around her and laid his chin on top of her head. "I'm sorry I couldn't get Bun-chan to come, he's working."
"It's okay." She mumbled quietly, as if forlorn – an emotion that was instantly erased as she focused on the person she had seen only now. "Ne, Goku-niichan, what's your girlfriend's name?" His hold on her loosened as she moved, tilting her face up so she could get a better look at him.
Mukahi nearly choked. "She's – I mean, he's not my girlfriend!" He denied quickly. "That person's a boy! A boy!"
Her eyes widened and she turned her sights on Mizuki's giggling form. "Uso... Hontou ni? Uwah... You're a boy?"
Mizuki nodded. "Yup."
"But-but-but... you're so pretty!"
"I'm gifted." He acknowledged, something that made Mukahi chuckle.
Ruriko seemed deep in thought... then, she asked innocently, eyes wide and glassy. "Ne, Goku-niichan... does that mean that you like boys too?"
Mukahi debated on whether he should try to coax one of his female co-workers to pose as his girlfriend in the near future... or have a manlier haircut.
OxxxOxxxOHe glanced at his wristwatch for the umpteenth time as his recording drew to a close. He had been waiting for the final instructions of his director for the last five minutes, but it seemed the older man was biding his time and making things difficult for them.
Another thing that was bothering him was Atobe's silence during the whole thing. He had been known to throw a royal fit whenever asked to wait for such a long time, and now, even after a long while, he was still sitting patiently, eyes riveted at the floating flowers of the table's centrepiece without a word. He had been pretty much silent ever since the whole recording started, and for the first time, Tezuka wished he was not like that and just revert back to his normal self.
He wished that Wakato hadn't dragged Sanada off to drink themselves silly. They didn't have a scheduled recording and just dropped by to get their scripts, and, as the Yuushousha Studio heir put it, 'mingle'. Now they were gone, and the silence was tense. He was a normally quiet person, but this was the kind he hated the most – a very uncomfortable one.
He was still debating on whether to say something, or just let the silence reign when Atobe beat him to it. "Tezuka, do you like the series so far?"
Surprised at the sudden question – and unprepared for the casualness of the topic, it took him a few moments to compose himself and nod. "It's not something usual, so I enjoy the challenge." Especially since I want to scream due to my lack of lines and I have to stifle that or I would ruin the recording...
He could feel Atobe's gaze permeating through his senses.
"You're lying." Came the quiet response. "You are not contented with this."
"You don't know me."
"You're right, I don't. But I do know if a person is lying or not." Atobe retorted, suddenly incensed. "Right now, I know you're lying."
After a few moments, Tezuka sighed, eyes staring back grimly at the one who had suddenly invaded his private space. "Don't say anything about things you don't know." He was tired, and he felt like he was going to suffer a minor nervous breakdown. "You don't know me well enough to comment on what my opinions are."
For a short while, the tension was palpable. One could almost cut through it with sharpened scissors. However, it only took an incredulous snort from Atobe before it finally ebbed away. "You sound like a really defensive old man, Tezuka."
Tezuka couldn't help the small smile that tugged on the corners of his lips. "And you're really obnoxious when you gloat."
"It's an inborn talent."
He shook his head, feeling a lot less burdened. Then, he turned to the director who was still talking to the staff. "Yamazaki-san, I have to take my leave now, I have someplace to go to."
Yamazaki, the director, gave him a sheepish smile, scratching his head apologetically. "Ah, sorry Tezuka-kun, I'll just call you tomorrow afternoon to straighten out the details. You can go now. Say hi to your daughter for me, okay?"
He nodded politely, standing up and shuffling over to the coat rack. He made quick work of his coat zippers and arranged his collar before pushing the heavy doors.
He was halfway to the elevators when he heard Atobe's distinct voice calling out for him. "Stop!" He said, and immediately, for some unknown reason, his feet halted their progress and he involuntarily turned around. He watched as Atobe patted the director on the shoulder and walk ever so grandly towards him, his aura of superiority still about even if he was the one who asked him to wait. But then again, when one called out 'Stop!' it wasn't a request but a command. He rolled his eyes as Atobe gave him a triumphant grin. Such a brat... He thought in amusement.
As soon as Atobe reached him, he started walking towards the elevators. Silently, he pushed the 'down' button, wary of his companion's scrutinising gaze. It took all his restraint not to bolt. "Stop staring at me." He muttered, relieved as the elevator doors opened, and started fretting again as he realised that there were no people inside. It was just going to be the two of them if no one got on at the next stop. Stepping carefully inside, he waited for Atobe to settle in before he pushed the 'close door' button, then his hand resumed clasping the edge of his coat in seeming reassurance.
"I like staring at you." The company owner responded, a small teasing smile playing on his lips.
"Well, don't." He finished lamely, smacking himself inwardly as he heard himself answer with such a tiny voice. I'm a dork. He thought, riding a new wave of self-disgust. He knew that if there was a way to dodge this man, it was to meet him head on and stop stalling, but then, what had he been doing all this time? He had been running away from anything resembling a conversation. Why was it so hard to talk to him anyway? Was it shame in his part that he had been caught doing something he was not proud of, such as singing like some mechanised robot during one of his tapings in Atobe's company, or was it because he realised that he could never be on equal terms with this person who seemed to have everything he wanted and was already the perfect epitome of the person he wanted to be?
Or maybe it was something else, something that was being nudged forward by his brain ever since he first saw him.
"You're distracted." Atobe noted, turning away from him and concentrating on the crack of the door. "You have been ever since we worked together in that yaoi drama."
Tezuka was not sure if he it was the forlorn tone or the fact that Atobe knew when everything happened that made him even more uneasy. "Stop trying to analyse everything. It doesn't become you."
It made his companion stiffen, just hearing those words. "No? Ahn? Then what becomes me, hmm?" There was a tinge of malice in Atobe's voice and it made Tezuka's insides squirm.
"You don't care about anything but yourself." Tezuka stated clearly, amazed at himself for all the strength his voice had. It was unfair that he was saying things that he had proven untrue about Atobe, just to prove a point. But what was his point? He was irritated at himself, eyes closing involuntarily as he noticed the tightening of Atobe's grip on the side rail.
"You think so lowly of me." Came the quiet answer. At that, Tezuka opened his eyes, immediately staring at Atobe's hand. It was completely relaxed now, loosened, and then dropped uselessly to his side before being slipped inside a coat pocket.
"I don't –"
"You do." Atobe insisted, giving him a sideways glance and a weak smile. "You think that I'm as narcissistic as rumours say I am. That's why you stay away from me."
You're wrong – Tezuka wanted to argue, but he kept his lips sealed. I stay away from you because I –
The doors of the elevator opened, and the button for the ground floor was blinking, signalling that they already arrived to where they were supposed to be in. Atobe gestured him to go out first, and so he did, with the former pushing the 'open door' button until he himself had gone out and a couple of women went in, gaggling all the way. They walked in silence and soon they were out of the automatic glass doors and out of the sprawling studio.
It was cold and Tezuka couldn't help hugging himself even with the protection of his thick coat. "I don't think you're narcissistic." He finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I didn't mean to put it that way."
"Right." Atobe snorted, puffs of air issuing forth from his nostrils. "That's good to hear after telling me I only care about myself, thank you very much."
Tezuka was felt defeated, and his shoulder slumped a bit. "I guess I'm just insecure." He admitted lightly, walking away from the building, prompting his companion to stop ogling and catch up to him.
"Insecure? What for?"
"You represent everything I ever hoped to be."
There was a moment of shocked silence, each person's mind reeling as they processed their own thoughts – Tezuka, trying to corner his emotions back in a safe space, and Atobe trying to grasp the meaning behind the other's admission.
"Tezuka..." Atobe murmured quietly, a gloved hand grasping Tezuka's wrist gently but firmly. "We need to talk."
"After dinner." Tezuka allowed, giving him an inviting nod. "Come home with me, I also have my former kouhai in there and we're to talk about things. After that you can stay, and then we talk."
Atobe wanted to, but thought against it and shook his head. "Hn." He sighed. "When we talk, I don't want any intrusions. I'm taking a rain check."
"Are you sure?"
Atobe sniffed grandly. "Of course! Ore-sama needs to have Tezuka all to himself when having a heart-to-heart!" With that, he let go of his wrist and turned, waving a jaunty goodbye as he turned the corner to where the parking lot was.
Tezuka just shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, and moved on to the direction where his home was.
Heart-to-heart, huh?
OxxxOxxxO
Kajimoto hated being left in the flux of his emotions. He hated feeling the loss that came from excessive bursts of feeling – especially since there was no one he knew who could comfort him at the moment.
The first person that came to mind was Mizuki. He called his house, since he didn't believe in cellular phones, up since he knew he would be back by now after his Saiyuki recording, however, unfortunately, his answering machine was the one who picked up. He wasn't at home.
He scoured his mind for people who could help him, and his newfound friend, Wakato Hiroshi, popped up. He tried calling him in his cellular phone, but he wasn't answering.
So there was no hope of easing his burden at all.
He closed his eyes, reclining even further, burrowing his body deeper in his favourite beanbag. What was wrong with him? He hadn't been this flustered ever since – He shook his head, eyes snapping open. Silently, he stared at the fluorescent light directly above him and sighed. If only he hadn't bought takoyaki that day, he wouldn't be in such a fix.
Kajimoto Takahisa didn't believe in predestination. He was someone who believed that there were many choices in which to take to attain one's goals... and that whatever path a person took, was accountable only to that person, and no one else. He was someone who played by the rules, naively following laws and adhering to them as if they were gods to be worshipped. He was someone who, even if he wasn't admitting it out loud, afraid of change.
He knew that change was something that couldn't be avoided, since everything does change, one way or another. He knew that changes meant growth. However, there was fear deep in the pit of his stomach that made him feel queasy every time something around him changed.
For example, he was filled with fear the moment he entered the industry, thinking of all the negative stuff that came with it. If not for the fact that his wife reassured him and supported him, he wouldn't even consider vying for this kind of work. Another good example would be when he married his wife roughly nine years ago. He was afraid he wouldn't be a good husband – or a good father, but she told him otherwise and she poked fun at him for thinking such ridiculous things. For some time, he gave his all on becoming the husband she had always hoped for... and when she died, succeeded by their twins, he, in her memory, turned himself to the best father he could.
Then came his introduction to the world of yaoi. He was afraid of a lot of things. He was afraid that when people knew he was doing such things, he would receive less respect especially from the elders – and his own parents for doing something so... radical. It was one thing to voice over a violent fighting game, but another to do something sexual – what more the gay kind.
It was a mystery to him why Jackal, even as a purebred Brazilian Catholic, was okay with such demeaning roles. Wasn't he affected the least? Wasn't he afraid that his reputation might get flushed down the drain?
/"You don't realise that they are part of your work. For you they have no real meaning, no worth and that's why you are hesitant to work on them." /
Sanada's words from this afternoon came crashing back.
Maybe to some extent it was true. Maybe for him, BL dramas did not have any meaning. But the way such words were thrown at him was enough to make him reconsider, with much guilt and remorse.
Kajimoto groaned. The thought he had earlier in the coffee shop seemed to prove true. His late wife was right, he was putting himself in a little box and storing everything that seemed so unreal to him as what they were – unreal. He wasn't doing anything to make himself engulf them wholly, to accept them as they were and not fuss over such menial things as reputation and dignity.
/"I feel like you won't have the will to take whatever it is to take to be better at your profession. You have no will to improve." /
He feared changes... that was the crux of the problem.
That was why he was always reluctant to do things. That was why Sanada said he didn't have the willpower to do anything at all. He had no will to conform to changes. He had no will to make the necessary changes in himself to improve his talents, his skills, and most of all, his outlook in life. His obsession with changes and what they would do to his reputation was what deterred him from moving forward.
/ "Recording and how you do your recording – that's what makes a great seiyuu. If you don't have the versatility to do impersonations of things alien to you, then you can never succeed. You have the skill, but you lack the will to do whatever it takes to improve on your techniques, on your work, on your person." /
A wave of self-disgust rolled over him. What was he doing, acting like this? He couldn't forget the disappointed look in Sanada's eyes when he told him what was needed to be told. He couldn't forget how his gut contracted at the heavy feel of loss as he listened intently.
Suddenly, the image of darkened eyes flashed in his mind, and instantaneously, as if conditioned response, his hand touched the nonexistent sting on his shoulder. He couldn't breathe. If the powerful Yuushousha Studio heir did lean in and instead touched his lips on his own... what would Kajimoto have done?
It was the change that he feared most of all. The singular fear that was making him brood all evening. He had never experienced something so intense his entire life... not even while he was still married. It was as if his body was consumed with heat. His skin felt over-sensitised. His eyes felt like they were fixed on Sanada's molten gaze alone. He heard everything around him with so much clarity that it terrified him. He felt like they were the only ones left alone alive and everyone had faded back into the clawing shadows.
The experience was most terrifying.
Kajimoto shuddered at the memory, pushing it forcefully away. He needed to stop thinking about things and just relax – he had such an exhausting day...
The sound of loud knocking made him jump. Startled, he immediately scrambled up and rushed to the front door, avoiding the clutter of toys his children had left before going to his in-laws on the living room carpet.
Taking a peek through the peephole of his front door, he relaxed as the familiar features of Wakato Hiroshi greeted him. Smiling a bit, he unlatched the door and turned the knob, opening it fully, intending to ask the guy as to what he was doing on his doorstep this late at night, when he noticed he wasn't alone.
Immediately, he stiffened, eyes wide as if a deer caught in headlights. His smile faded as shock began sinking in. What the – It was the only thought he could process as of the moment.
Sanada Genichirou, the source of all his angsting was draped limply on Wakato's shoulders.
"Uh, Takahisa-san... a little help here?"
And he was dead drunk.
OxxxOxxxO
"I wanted to drink myself to oblivion after that audition." Mukahi sighed, finishing his second bowl of rice and third helpings of curried eel with nattou. It was very apparent to both Tezuka and Mizuki that their friend was still depressed, contrary to what he had been saying since the topic was opened up.
"You're going to be accepted, stop worrying." Mizuki drawled, stabbing a piece of deboned eel in emphasis. "As quick as that. They'd be crazy not to give you a fighting chance."
Tezuka nodded in agreement, taking a bite of his stringy concoction. "Definitely." The mention of Teikoku Songen reminded him of his moment with Atobe in the recording booth. The total silence as he gazed almost tenderly at him, the butterflies in his stomach as the sappy words tumbled out from the other's mouth...
/"It took many years... but you're finally here." /
It was something that haunted him as he walked towards his home, something that plagued him even as his kouhai was letting out all his bad blood with someone working in Atobe's company. He felt the stirrings of guilt and shame as he pushed his troubling thoughts away, focusing more on what Mukahi was blabbing about.
Mizuki's gaze bordered on worried, and Tezuka realised the extent of the bond between the two younger seiyuu. It seemed that while in school, they had been in contact with each other... and such friendship blossomed after they worked in the same field. They may be two years apart, but they were acting as if they were twin brothers – always looking out for each other.
"Oh come on, stop pigging out or else you'd become really fat... no one would dare go on a date with you. You'd end up lonely and old with twenty-seven cats in a locked cellar somewhere far away..." The PTU talent said, trying to coax his friend out of his depressed stupor. "Tell, me what's the name of the guy who told you that you were bad? I'll go and challenge him to a match..."
Mukahi's hand finally stilled as his features filled with disbelief. "Are you stupid?" Then came the hacking laughter as he choked on a piece of eel. "You're no match for someone that tall! Besides, he's one of Atobe's direct subordinates, so..."
"Atobe Keigo's subordinate?" Tezuka piped in, surprised.
"Un." Mukahi nodded forlornly. "He has shaggy hair and eyeglasses... and speaks kinda weird."
The image formed unbidden in Tezuka's mind, and instantly, he found the name to go with it. Slowly, he leant back, eyes fixed on his half-filled bowl of rice. Oshitari Yuushi, no doubt. He mused. The people who work at Teikoku Songen are not as professional as I thought they are... or maybe it's just that guy...
He frowned. Maybe... "Wait."
"Tezuka-senpai?"
"Tezuka-san?"
"Didn't you say there were two others with him?"
"Yeah..."
"Then you shouldn't worry." He finished, picking up his chopsticks.
"Really, Tezuka-san? You think they would be professional enough?" Mizuki looked doubtful, but there was hope there. He nodded, giving him a small smile, which, for a moment of deliberation, he returned slowly back, eyes brightening.
Giving a sideways glance at Mukahi, it made Tezuka feel relieved that the younger man's energy was coming back.
For the right reason – that there was still a chance of getting in.
He stilled. A chance... His mind was, once again, filled with the proud features of the one he had always hoped to avoid having any contact with – the one who constantly seek him out for unknown reasons. Is there really a chance to change everything... a chance to start over?
/"It took many years... but you're finally here." /
Maybe.
OxxxOxxxO
It took a couple of moments before he could contain his shock... and in that time span, Wakato had dragged his load in with great difficulty, deliberately pushing the limp form on the couch in what seemed to be resigned irritation.
"Seriously, this guy is so full of issues!" The orange-haired diva huffed, primping his dishevelled hair quickly and efficiently. How he could do it perfectly without the use of a mirror was beyond Kajimoto's comprehension. "I was the one who invited him to drink and be merry... and he drunk more than I did!"
After shock came a sort of peace... and then panic started to seep in. Kajimoto's eyes widened even more. "What is he doing here!"
"He's drunk!"
"Why is he drunk!"
"He has issues!"
"Why did you bring him here of all places!"
"Because this is the nearest to the bar and I don't want to drive him in my motorcycle or else he would end up in the morgue tomorrow – with yours truly!" Wakato threw up his hands in frustration. "I don't want to die in a traffic accident – I want Death-by-Chocolate... or Death-by-Sex!"
If they were having a normal conversation, Kajimoto would've been laughing his brains out by now. However, having an unconscious drunk guy along with a close friend this time of night was not something that could be considered normal – at all. His features settled into that of a cryptic... or maybe accusing, as what Wakato probably saw for all the defensive posturing he was doing at the moment.
"Oi, oi... it wasn't me who got him drunk, mind you." His friend started. "He was perfectly willing to be dragged along to bar after bar – he even out-drank me!"
He sighed, shaking his head. He couldn't do anything now, could he? After, all the man was lying facedown on his couch. It was impossible to turn him away. "What do I do?" he asked, defeated.
Wakato scrutinised him and heaved a huge suffering breath. "For starters, you can take care of him and make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit when he wakes up with a killer hangover." The corners of his lips quirked up in a semblance of amusement. "Or try to calm him down if he turns homicidal."
Kajimoto's brows narrowed. "What do you mean 'homicidal'?" He asked slowly. "He's not the kind of person who wakes up and just smacks anyone near him, is he?"
"Maybe, maybe not. Depends on how you wake him, really." Wakato said airily, standing up and sauntering to where the front door was, stopping for a moment to slip into his shoes. He could feel his friend's eyes following him and he almost burst out in laughter. "You know," He called out as he turned the doorknob. "He kept on babbling for being so useless when faced with someone who hated 'yaoi'." He sniggered. "He slurred something like 'How could I ever initiate something when I know he would run screaming rape to the other direction as much as I try something like kissing?'. It was pretty interesting, you know... and very enlightening." Then, noting the redness of Kajimoto's face and his wide scandalised eyes, he walked out laughing, carefully closing the door.
Kajimoto was now at a loss.
Body feeling heavy, he turned to the prone body being smothered by his couch and rolled his eyes.
Now what do I do first? Keep him from choking on his own vomit or try waking him up with a meter stick?
OxxxOxxxO
Shishido was muttering to himself as he entered the elevator. With irritation, he pushed the glowing button down to the second floor just as the doors closed.
What was Yuushi thinking? He thought angrily. How could he ever think that I could ever get the love of my life drunk and then molest him afterwards? He would be stupid to do such thing! He knew what he should do – try asking him out or something. Yeah, that would be better. At least, he wouldn't be hated much for being what he was – a moony person in love with another guy.
He sighed.
If only he was sure of where Ohtori's preferences lay, maybe he wouldn't be this afraid. But then again, even if he did know, it didn't mean that he had a chance right? He may be really straight, or really gay... but he wouldn't be his type. That would suck – majorly.
Choutarou... if only I could hear you say my name lovingly all the time, I would be happy to die on the spot and haunt you forever...
"Shishido-san?"
Okay, that was fast. For a moment, he stiffened. Oh no... His eyes widened as he slowly turned around. I can't be this unlucky...
"Shishido-san... are you okay?"
It was Ohtori.
"Uh, hey Choutarou!" He greeted him a little too brightly. Wincing inwardly, he tried to compose himself. "I'm fine, I'm fine... just a little tired."
Silence.
There was something off in Ohtori's eyes as his features morphed into that of being depressed. He spoke softly. "Why are we like this now?" There was a sad quality in his voice, something that made Shishido's gut clench. He felt like he was the world's biggest fool. Truth was, avoidance was the only thing he could do to protect the younger man from him. He was not sure what he would do, and he didn't quite trust himself to remain calm while he was near – like right now.
The urge to just huggle Ohtori to oblivion was making him tremble slightly. How could he ever push himself to stop his emotions and act as if nothing happened and was happening when in fact something did happen and something was happening to him inside? What was he supposed to do but try to keep out of the other's way and stay that way until he could control himself and not jeopardise whatever measly relationship they had?
He was about to succeed until the 'Blabbering Event' happened. If only Oshitari didn't tell him that Shishido swung the other way, everything would've stayed as calm as it was. But it was done and over with. He didn't have the power to change the course of events that left him with this huge problem. "I'm not avoiding you –" He lied. "I'm just..."
"You've been keeping away from me after Oshitari-san said you were gay."
Bingo. Shishido felt the knife in his gut twist even more. "..."
"Do you honestly think I would hate you for something like that, Shishido-san?"
Yes, he was piling on the guilt now – but Shishido knew he deserved it. He was presumptuous, yet he knew it was the only thing that kept him sane. It was better to be hurt that way than to be laughed at and mocked. He learned the hard way in junior high school when he confessed to his senpai, Atobe's cousin, Akutsu Jin. "Sorry." He muttered, feeling edgy. Wildly, he wondered why he wasn't on the second floor yet, and he glanced at the glowing numbers above. Why is it going...?
He was supposed to be going down.
The elevator was going up.
Inwardly, he smacked himself. How could he ever escape this kind of emotional torture? He was still debating on what to say when he felt something crowding him. Surprised, he looked up just in time to see the uncertainty of Ohtori's eyes as he loomed over him, face drawing closer until –
PING!
The elevator doors opened on the seventh floor, and both of them turned abruptly, jumping apart as if burned.
Hiyoshi Wakashi stood there, along with Taki Haginosuke, their brows lifted in both amusement and question.
Shishido had never felt so embarrassed in his whole life.
OxxxOxxxO
Kajimoto's eyes couldn't stray away from his peacefully slumbering guest.
Or burden.
Or – whatever he was fit to be called.
It was the first time he had seen such expression on Sanada Genichirou's face. He seemed so relaxed, so at ease – so much like a child. He looked no more than eight years old. Tops. Kajimoto's lips curled up in an involuntary smile. He should make this last. It was, after all, the only time he could actually look at him without so much as worrying whether or not he looked like a moony teenager.
His hair is really soft. He noted, fingers ghosting on the part where it stuck up a little. Drawing slowly away, he pulled his extra blankets up over the sleeping man's chin, tucking him in to keep him warm. With agonising care, he stood up. He's really cute when he's sleeping... he shook his head and looked away. What am I thinking? All that yaoi is making me strange. I don't want to become a guy with multiple male partners or something –
The image of Sanada leaning towards him and drawing him in flashed in his mind, and his previous thought resurfaced. Sweat beaded on his temple. What if he really did kiss me back then... a real one... on the lips? Would I have bolted, or would I have accepted it? Curiosity thrumming in his veins, he turned back, his lips felt as if they were besieged by electricity in silent anticipation. What if...?
His body moved on its own accord. He was leaning down, leaning, until his face was directly above Sanada's, so close that he could feel his even breathing, smell the tinge of alcohol in every exhalation. He should be repulsed, but he didn't care. At the moment, there was one thing that he wanted to know, and it would only be accomplished through –
With care and something akin to tenderness, he closed his eyes and laid his lips on his. It was warm, firm, and yet soft. It was something new to Kajimoto and he relished the feel of it. His heart lightened, as did the burden on his shoulders. He wondered why something as simple as this felt so complex. Sanada was not responding, but there was something in what Kajimoto was experiencing that was brought out by him. It was very different from what he felt just this afternoon.
His heart leapt and then began pounding in his ears.
This was the same feeling he had when his wife was still alive.
At that, his eyes snapped open, and with a small gasp, he reared away, overrun by confusion first, then embarrassment, and then the realisation of what he had just done and what the implications of how he felt were. Silently, in haste, he hurried away to his room. He had to spend some time processing everything before he came to his own conclusions. He needed to think.
And as he fled upstairs to his room, he missed the small movement that betrayed the gravity of that heated moment.
The corners of the supposedly sleeping man's lips twitched once...
And Sanada smiled.
OxxxOxxxO
Tezuka woke up to the sound of someone ringing the doorbell.
System shocked into being fully awake, he jumped off his bed, put on his glasses, and, without slipping on his slippers, ran to where the front door was and flung it open.
Imagine his surprise at the sight of the one who had just been the reason of last night's restlessness.
"Atobe." He said in monotone.
"Looking good, Tezuka." Atobe was smirking at him, eyes roving to his clothes – or the lack thereof. It took a moment before he could fully process what was happening. He reddened in embarrassment for a moment before schooling his features to that of normalcy. Apparently, he was standing with the front door opened wide – in his strawberry-patterned pyjama bottoms.
Why did I forget to send the laundry down the Laundromat yesterday? He thought, groaning inwardly. "What are you doing here?" He asked, curiosity getting the best of him after a few moments of mortified silence.
"I'm here to pick you up." Atobe smiled infuriatingly.
"Why?"
"Because we have to have The Talk."
Tezuka frowned. "Isn't that a bit too late? I've already been married."
Atobe rolled his eyes, looking so much like a peeved prince. "Ah, what are you saying, you idiot! I was talking about the talk we were supposed to have last night!"
At that, Tezuka stiffened. "Oh."
His visitor smirked. "Yes. Oh."
The bespectacled man frowned, and then realised he was stalling and decided to just let him in instead of going out. That would be safer, wouldn't it? He had this vague idea that this guy was going to take him to some alley and just jump him. "Why don't we jus have 'The Talk', as you put it, inside?" He asked him, giving way for the other to enter.
For a split-second, Atobe hesitated, a questioning look flashing in his eyes. 'Are you sure?' his looks seemed to ask. However, it was gone just as quickly as it came. Back was the arrogant smirk, and equally overwhelming personality. Tezuka judged, as he stepped forward, that his person would fill the whole house quickly and suffocate him and his poor sleeping daughter if he didn't tone it down the whole time he would stay in. He sighed, closing the door after him.
His gaze was riveted completely on Atobe. The other was looking around, and he hoped, appreciating his surroundings. After all, Tezuka was not a designer and he refused to let other people in his house to do some decorating. He liked things muted, but there was the case of having a female daughter, so all he could do was ask his best friend Oishi to give him catalogue samples from his mother's book so he could pattern the house after some stylish modern apartment. He couldn't subject his daughter to living in a place without colour, or else she would grow up to be like him – repressed.
The whole house was painted in warm colours. The living room walls covered in pale cream paint, strategic sections painted warm brown and burnished gold. The furniture were soft and plush, all were in brushed black chrome. The throw pillows were weaved in reds, golds and browns, blending in harmony and presenting a homey feel to the area. Atobe's gaze was pinned on the vertical rich brown frame with artful Japanese calligraphy, and a knowing grin was perched on his face as he turned to Tezuka. "This was given to you by Genichirou. When?" He said matter-of-factly, eyes shining. "He gave me one too just last year, though with a very different set of words."
Tezuka gave him a small smile back. "Three years ago." He replied, closing their gap as he came to stand beside him. "It was during Ruri-chan's birthday."
Atobe gave him a puzzled look. "Ruri-chan?"
He nodded. "Aa. My daughter." He murmured with a silent sort of pride.
"Oh, so that explains the message." Came the enlightened response. "Hmm. Fitting. Genichirou really hates giving useless gifts."
"Un."
"Paint a rainbow in the night sky, with colours that are mine alone." Atobe read softly. The words took on a new meaning just by hearing him speak, and it made Tezuka lightheaded. It was as if the words were being branded in his heart alone. It felt... like he was being surrounded by warmth. "It sounds like a love confession, don't you think?"
There was definitely something fluttering helplessly in his gut. Unsure of what to do or what to make of it, he turned away and focused instead on his daughter's first finger painting hanging on the wall opposite Sanada's gift. He couldn't dignify Atobe's remark with an answer.
"Tezuka?"
It was then that he felt his visitor's cold fingers on his bare shoulder. Suddenly, he felt very much naked. The thumping of his heart increased speed, and all he could do was to try calm it the best way he knew how – by making a tactical retreat. "I'm putting a shirt on. Sit and wait here. I'll be back in a moment."
With that, he took off, trying to escape without letting the other know his intention. I'll hide out in here in a short while... I need to keep myself in check... I need to...
OxxxOxxxO
I really need to stop saying something terribly provoking. Atobe thought, kicking himself mentally as he lowered himself on the soft couch. This guy is skittish. He might hate Ore-sama in the long run if I don't do this right.
Sanada's messages were usually direct and concise. There were no flowery prose or useless stuff like that to get his point across. However, from the looks of the gift he gave Tezuka three years ago, he certainly changed enough. It must be because of Seiichi. He thought. He rubbed off on him.
There was something horribly off in all of this. Sanada was not one to speak in metaphors. Tezuka, as far as he knew from his co-workers and friends, was not one to act all fidgety. And he, Atobe Keigo, was not one to keep on reaching out to someone who didn't want anything to do with him. What was happening to the world? Has it gone crazy or were the three of them the ones who were losing screws year after year? What made us like this? Why is everything changing into –
"Ah, Otouchan... are you in there?"
Surprised, Atobe was jolted away from his troubled contemplation.
A little girl with dishevelled black hair was shuffling to the living room, hands balled into fists and rubbing bleary eyes.
OxxxOxxxO
"Kajimoto-kun."
I'm dreaming... no one's supposed to be home but me... Kajimoto felt something move beside him on his bed. And no one's supposed to be in my bed but me...
There was something hot blowing on his face. It felt nice, so he didn't bother turning away. Instead, his hands reached out to take more of the warmth, and he would've succeeded if it didn't get to his first. Scorching points spread throughout his body, starting from the neck, down to his bare torso and even lower. There was something rasping nearby, and the welcome sensation of warm wetness pressed against his temple.
"Kajimoto-kun..." The voice came again, this time, stilted, broken, as if suffering –
He frowned. Wait a minute. Realisation struck and soon, his eyes snapped open in panic. His nightmare finally came true. Fully awake now, he struggled to sit up, unseating the one who had been molesting him just moments ago. "Sanada-san! What are you doing!"
Sanada Genichirou composed himself and sat Indian style on the bed. The action prodded Kajimoto to scoot father backwards until his arm was pressed to the wall.
Wrong move.
Now he was trapped, unable to get off since he was crowded in a corner.
Sanada let out an exasperated breath. "I'm not going to molest you."
Kajimoto frowned. "You just..."
The other raised a hand as a gesture for him to stop. "For the record. I have to say that you are the one who was at fault."
His eyes twitched. "I am not at fault – you came here and started groping me!"
"You seduced me."
"I did not!" Kajimoto exclaimed, incensed. "I was sleeping, and you – you came here and started breathing on my face –"
Sanada's lips curved to a smirk. "You reached for me, remember?"
Well, well, yes. But that's beside the point – you didn't have to do those things and –"
"You weren't letting go, so I figured you wanted me to. You seduced me."
Kajimoto let out an almost inaudible 'eep!' as Sanada shifted his position and started crawling towards him. What am I going to do? What? What? He thought frantically. If he reaches me, he will definitely –
A hand descended on top of his head and instantly, his inner voice halted its incessant worrying. He blinked up stupidly at the stern features of Sanada, unable to understand the flurry of motion that seemed to plague the pit of his stomach. It wasn't disgust, or else he would've started retching already. It was something else, and it felt really familiar. It was like when...
The gap between them was closing in an alarming rate. Sanada was leaning down, hands gaining leverage against the adjacent walls that Kajimoto was cornered in. "You were the one who enticed me." He heard him whisper softly, the normal edge in his voice softening to that of pure seduction. "You were the one who drew me in first... the one who made sure I never forget... how could you say that it is I who acted inappropriately?"
"Sanada-san..."
"I wasn't planning on doing anything, I resolved myself yesterday, after we talked that I would stay away from you as far as I possibly could. Yet, last night, you kissed me."
Kajimoto's cheeks coloured in shock and embarrassment. "How did you –?"
Sanada laughed mirthlessly. "I woke up when I felt warm, and I heard you muttering to yourself. And then you leant and kissed me. What was I to do? What was I to think now that the line between us was crossed? Should I have just shrugged it off even if everything in me is clamouring for more?"
Kajimoto didn't know what to say. He couldn't say that he was just being curious... because he knew it was just a minute chunk of what his real reasons were. It was acceptance. In a way, he was accepting what the other had proposed without words just before he was left alone in that room yesterday. There was a choice given to him, which was why Sanada just laid his lips on his forehead in a gesture of respect. Sanada recognised the things standing between them since they met during the takoyaki incident, and he understood it completely, accepted it, as his personality was wont to do. He, on the other hand, knew of it just as long as Sanada did, probably... but he didn't choose to do anything about it. Then, last night happened. In the back of his mind, he had been harbouring hopes that he was not wrong about choosing something as risky as he was... and that kiss was...
"Reassurance." He responded softly. "I wanted to know if I could do something about things, about who I am, about how I'm going to accept things."
"Reassurance." Sanada repeated slowly, closing his eyes. "It's just that, isn't it? What if I didn't come to reassure you, would you have thought about it?"
He looked up, his vision hazy from the bleary world he was immersed in, but he knew just what expression the other had. He could see the resignation etched deep in his face, something that told him he was serious about all this... that he was not just doing this for the sake of filling up the loneliness left by the death of his friend. It was a good question, he noted. What if Sanada didn't come and stayed last night? Would he have done anything, or would he stay behind his side of the line?
"I don't know." He mumbled truthfully.
It was enough to make Sanada take a deep cleansing breath and smile as he opened his eyes to gaze down at him. "I can take a gamble then – the door isn't yet closed, is it?" There was something akin to relief in his tone, and it made the heavy tension ebb away. "Takahisa-kun?"
For him, everything seemed clearer. He would sort everything out and try to be a better person while he was at it. His will to face changes was not limited only to work – it also meant changes in the way he lived his life and the partner he chose to have. He would find it, definitely.
He nodded, cheeks flushing faintly.
He didn't struggle as Sanada bent and kissed him hungrily. They both needed this. They both deserved this. And as his eyes closed in their own volition, as his body thrummed with overflowing emotion, a clear, determined thought came to him;
I have to find the strength I need to start over, because now, I have an important reason to do so.
OxxxOxxxO
So this is Tezuka's legendary child. He thought, eyes scrutinising the childish figure right across him. She looks like him in many ways. Her skin is just as pale, her built is jus as slight as his... are they eating right or is it just genes?
Of course Atobe was surprised at the sight of the little girl shuffling towards where he was seated, and of course he didn't know exactly what to do. Should he say something? If he spoke first, the kid would be terrorised enough to run back to her room crying, undoubtedly saying over and over that a thief was sitting on her favourite couch or something. Ch' He thought. He was an only child and he had never been in the company of people younger than twelve years old all his life!
"Touchan? Are you – eh?"
Busted. Atobe thought, feeling the need to smack himself for lacking decisiveness. "Yo." He said, giving his best 'I'm Beautiful, so Worship Me' smile, hoping that the girl would take the bait and warm up to him. For a few moments, they stared at each other, one blinking stupidly at the other who was trying his best to compose himself.
It was when the little girl smiled that Atobe felt as if the world started moving again.
"Ah! Are you touchan's friend?" came the bright girly voice. He had never been so engrossed in something so cute in his whole life, well, maybe when he was still young and he stared at himself on his room's full-length mirror...
However, that was a good question. Was he Tezuka's friend?
Atobe didn't even know if they were. There were times when he was sure they were, but the times when he thought they weren't outweighed the former. Tezuka hadn't defined everything to him yet – they still have to have 'The Talk' to straighten things out. "Hmm, something like that." He allowed, nodding once in supplication. For a few silent moments, he endured the staring the little girl did. Since he didn't exactly know what to do, he just stared back at her, admiring the way her hair fell down her shoulders. She's going to be a heartbreaker when she grows up. Tezuka's going to have his hands full on this one. He mused.
Suddenly, the little girl clapped her hands, eyes shining. "Ah, oniichan," She started excitedly. "Do you like cake?"
At that, all Atobe had the strength to do was laugh.
OxxxOxxxO
Tezuka heard Atobe's laughter as he got out of his room decently dressed. Curious, he went to investigate. Lo and behold, he was having the time of his life talking animatedly with his daughter sitting on his lap.
"I like strawberry shortcake!" Ruriko said happily. "Otouchan bought lots of it last night when he came home! Goku-niichan and his boyfriend Mi-chan shared some with me before they had their dinner! It's best eaten with lots of people to share with, ne, Kei-niichan?"
Kei-niichan? Tezuka thought in amusement. Apparently they were swapping food stories since he stumbled out of the living room a while ago.
"Hmmm... I don't know. It's okay to share with others, but isn't it better to eat everything by yourself sometimes?"
Geh. No way was Atobe going to corrupt his poor daughter. He decided to step in. "No. The best way is to share." Tezuka's voice boomed sternly and both turned to him in surprise. His little girl brightened up even more and hopped off the guest's lap, bounding over to him, arms raised, no doubt wanting a lift and a hug.
"Touchan!" She cried, her smooth arms slipping around his shoulders as he bent down to carry her in his own. As soon as she was settled in, her chatter began. "Kei-niichan told me you were really serious about your work!" She beamed proudly.
"And she told me that she already knows about it since she takes after you when it comes to schoolwork." Atobe put in, standing up and slipping his hands in his pockets. "She really does love you, Tezuka."
His tone was soft, almost wistful, and he gazed at him and his daughter the same way. There was something twisting in his heart as he stared right back. He could see their image mirrored in Atobe's eyes, and his heart ached even more.
How did they come to this? Why did it feel as if he was being a bastard because he wasn't allowing this man to be a part of his world? Something in him screamed contentment as he saw them chatting away a short while ago, and he was pleased that they got together awfully well... but why was he hesitating to do something to make everything a lot easier between him and Atobe?
Because you haven't resolved your personal issues. The little voice in his head said solemnly. You can't accept him because you can't accept who you really are. You can't accept him because you don't like yourself – you always wanted to be someone else and strive towards the goal of total change. You can't accept him because he is your goal.
Tezuka sighed and turned to his beaming daughter. "Ruri-chan, is it okay if you go ask Ino-san to help you with your bath?"
"Eh? Ino-obaasan is still here?" She asked, perplexed. "I thought she went home last night?"
"I asked her to stay in one of our spare rooms so she could take care of you today. I'm having another late recording later. Her house, after all, is far from here."
The brightness in her eyes dimmed a little. "Oh. Touchan is going to be away today?"
Tezuka grinned. "No, I'll be out late afternoon until around midnight." He tightened his hold on her and bumped his forehead on hers tenderly. "But you're going to take a bath right now because we're going to the park."
Tezuka Ruriko's bubbly countenance returned full force. "YAY!" She shrieked, looking more like four years old instead of six. She wiggled, signalling his father that she wanted to get back on her feet, and he allowed her to, watching as she bounced away, off to disturb her appointed nanny for the day.
As the echo of her light footsteps faded, Tezuka was acutely aware of the fact that he and Atobe were very much alone. He cleared his throat and looked at him. "This talk..."
Atobe gazed at him openly. "It's necessary."
"..."
"To define barriers – or the lack thereof." Atobe continued. "To define the path to the future and save both of us the trouble of going out of our ways to avoid each other."
"Is this really going to achieve all those things you just said?" Tezuka murmured, unable to move as Atobe started for him. All he could see were those intense orbs suffusing him with warmth.
Upon reaching him, Atobe gave him his most warm smile. "If we talked honestly enough."
Tezuka couldn't help smiling back, gesturing to the front door. "Later then, after we eat out with Ruri – you are joining us, aren't you?"
Atobe's smile reverted back to its usual arrogance. "Blueberry pancakes with first class maple syrup?"
"With German sausages on the side."
"With rich black coffee."
Tezuka nodded, feeling happier than he had before.
Atobe suddenly reached out and ran his fingers through Tezuka's still dishevelled hair. "Good. Ore-sama's coming with you and Ruri-chan." He confirmed. "But before we go, you might want to comb your hair first."
"I already did."
"You did?"
"..."
"Nevermind."
ENDE
A/N: FINISHED! My first finished Tennis no Oujisama series! Well, the main story, at least. Feedbacks are greatly appreciated! Onward to the side stories!
1. Oshitari Yuushi x Mukahi Gakuto
2. Ohtori Choutarou x Shishido Ryo
3. Sanada Genichirou x Kajimoto Takahisa
4. Atobe Keigo x Tezuka Kunimitsu
Footnote/s:
(1) Just something I cooked up.