title: clear the path
word count: 1, 865
summary: You can't tell the future, so there's no need to fear it. Fuji and Eiji are determined to show all of Seigaku what it means to really live in the here and now

clear the path

Quite frankly, he was sick of it. The first hour was actually sorta touching, with the big baddie of Seigaku crying, Kaidoh refusing to leave his post from behind the huge sweeping willow tree near the courts. He even felt a pang of remorse when he saw Momoshiro bury his head into his hands, cupping his face in his upturned palms. But the second hour passed and Eiji was getting antsy, twirling his tennis racket around and around his wrist, shifting from one foot to the other as he watched the underclassmen of the tennis team approach, in either a state of near-tears or phony shows of exuberant enthusiasm, the table where the gathered seniors sat.

"We're gonna miss our senpai-tachi!"
"Specially our bucho! BUCHO!"

Tezuka kept pushing aside the pile of gifts that the upperclassmen placed like offerings to the seniors, while Inui made notes at the weight and size of each of the brilliantly wrapped presents. Oishi was like his usual gracious self, lifting a hand to cover his watery eyes and thanking again and again for everyone's hard work. The Nationals trophy, the material personification of everyone's dreams, stood like a beacon in front of Takashi who was eagerly proclaiming his valor as a sushi chef while clutching the handle of his racket.

"COME ON, FUTURE! OH BABY!"

The chair next to Oishi's left was empty, Eiji standing off to the corner, partially hidden by the shade of the trees. Next to Tezuka's right stood another empty chair.

Fuji's.

Eiji hated end-of-the-year banquets, with all the crying and fussing as if they weren't ever going to see each other again. That was, quite frankly, bullshit and Eiji had enough of this. Two hours filled with speeches, Ryuzaki-sensei promising to push the tennis team the seniors were leaving behind to even more dazzling heights (okay, actually Ryuzaki-sensei's speech made the lump in Eiji's throat swell, cutting off his breath), toasts and all the underclassmen members of the tennis club making promises to work harder than ever before.

And still, there was more crying, Horio clutching at his heart as if he was dying. Eiji scowled, wishing that it would end, that everyone would take a moment to revel in the spring sun and the brilliant blue sky high above.

"Eiji-senpai.."

"Drop it, I know, I know." Eiji sighed, trying to ignore the sudden flash of Oishi's stern look, Takashi so surprised by this uncharacteristic show of rudeness that he dropped his tennis racket and sat back, at a loss for words.

"KIKUMARU!"
"Hoi, hoi, Buchou?"

"Twenty laps. Now." Tezuka fixed his glasses in preparation of Eiji's assault of protests, his face contorting angrily at the injustice of it all. And before Eiji could open his mouth to give life to his words, Tezuka stood, pointing to the cross-country path that circled around the tennis courts. "Go!"

"Yes, Buchou."
--

Eiji swore under his breath as he pushed his way around the crowd of underclassmen, slamming open the door of the tennis court in frustration. Kaidoh threw a look of sympathy his way until Tezuka coughed, making the second year jolt back into attention.

He hated running, hated how tired he got even now, after three years of the most intense physical conditioning he ever went through. His legs were cut out for jumping and flipped and bursting high into the air, but running? Eiji could only run like the wind for a few minutes before his head started spinning and his legs ached.

And besides, it was the last tennis practice before tomorrow's graduation. What right does Tezuka have to order his teammate like that? But with a sudden pang of guilt, Eiji thought about how insensitive his words were, how shocked Horio's face was when Eiji snapped at him, biting away the true feelings from Horio's falling tears.

So deep and interwoven were his thoughts that it took a spray of water to catch his attention. The shock of cold water striking him squarely on the back nearly made him scream in fright, his whole body recoiling and jumping into the air.

"Wow. You really are a cat, aren't you?"
"NO FAIR, FUJI!"

With another laugh, Fuji shook his water bottle, letting another spray hit Eiji's face. Eiji tried to fend off the spray with one hand, backing up until he tripped, falling squarely on the patch of grass near the track.

It felt magnificent, watching the blue of the sky lightened and shift with the passing of the sun. Heat radiated like an embrace from the sun's hazy rays. He took in a deep breath, smelling the grass, hearing the slight echo of the voices drifting from the gathered team, a few hundred yards away.

He closed his eyes to better feel the warmth spraying over his face. When Fuji sat down next to Eiji's reclining figure, Eiji bat open only one eye to smile at him.

"Feels good, nya?"
"So why did Tezuka make you run for?"

Eiji let out a laugh, "Why did he make you?"

Fuji gathered his knees close to his chest, leaning his forehead against his raised legs. The wind that blew gently against their faces was gentle, the scent of summer drifting on its curling back. "He didn't. I went for a walk."

"Can't deal with everyone cryin', nya?"
"Yes."

But both knew that it was just a superficial answer to an equally superficial question. He reached a hand up the sky, fingers spread open as if to gather the folds of the sun in his palms. Fuji watched his movements, smiling as he tapped his waterbottle lightly against his ankle.

Eiji opened his eyes, his voice booming with confidence. "I guess we just have to clear the path for all them, ne, Fuji?"

He lifted a hand to shade his eyes from the burst of light emitting from the sun above. In a day so filled with light and blue and endless infinity, it was hard to shallow so many tears.

"Of course, Eiji." As if on cue, Fuji threw his waterbottle high into the air, a spray of water spouting like a flower to blossom over Eiji's grinning face, Fuji's curled body. The water seemed just as cold but twice as sweet as it dripped into Eiji's open mouth.

"It's the least we can do before we leave, right?"
"Hoi, hoi!"
--

Just as the last speech was completed, something whistled into the air. To Arai's untrained eye, it appeared to be nothing more but a pink ball, falling like a miracle from the clouds. But then the balloon made contact with Arai's face and spilled a puddle of water over his open mouth.

More balloons fell, flying in high arcs, targeting the underclassmen and the seniors all at once. With perfect aim, a balloon squarely hit Kaidoh's head, soaking his bandana and causing the second year to trip with the impact. Another smacked Momo's face, sending water to damp his spiked locks as Takashi attempted to fend off water balloons by hiding under the table, And then they came running, Eiji dropping from the tree he perched on, Fuji coming from the rear of the tennis court, tossing and throwing water balloons while screaming. Chaos ascended, the tennis club ripping apart the hung decorations in their mad scramble to find anything that they could use to defend against Eiji's and Fuji's onslaught.

Oishi could only laugh at the sudden ignition of spirit during a day that seemed marked with sadness. He watched Fuji's brilliant smile, Eiji's loud screams overtaking everyone else's laughter and knew that only those two could have made such a thing occur. Even Inui was smiling, throwing handfuls of leftover popcorn and snacks to anyone who ran by the senior's table.

Fuji and Eiji slapped each other a high five and then both turned their attention to Tezuka, who stood with his arms crossed, calmly surveying the watergun/balloon/food fight.

What happened was that Fuji ran headfirst to Tezuka, squeezing a steady steam of water out of his waterbottle as the other hand pellet Tezuka with water balloons. The former captain first stepped aside and then started running away from Fuji's attacks only to crash against Eiji's figure.

"Bye, bye Buchou, nya!"

And that's when Eiji emptied a whole pitcher of soda on Tezuka's head, knocking his glasses to the ground.

"ENOUGH!"

When Tezuka was mad, he could stop even chaos in its wake.

"What's the meaning of this? Kikumaru? Fuji?"

And what they said together, speaking in one voice stole Tezuka's voice away, his anger dissolving into absolutely nothing, "It's not as if this is the end, right?"

Eiji wrapped an arm around Fuji's shoulders, "Ne, ne, Buchou, don't you see?"

Fuji bent forward, picking up Tezuka's glasses with his fingers, "We don't agree on spending this day in mourning."

His eyes seemed to match the sky above, Eiji's smile holding the radiance of the sun. Tezuka could only nod, turning his back on the affair, a signal for the food fight to resume.
--

She reached out a hand to wipe at her tears. Three years gone. But watching all of them chasing and running and screaming as the afternoon lengthen into twilight gave her a feeling she could not deny as utter joy. In her hand she held a copy of the speech Fuji Syusuke would read the next day, the chosen speaker of his class.

"..You will never know what the future holds, so there's no need to fear it. Don't live the what-ifs, the yesterdays, the could-have-beens. Live for today."

You will never know what the future holds. Ryuzaki-sensei's eyes blurred with tears, Fuji's elegant handwriting warped by the built-up of emotion in the whole of herself. Giving a cry akin to that of a wild animal, she cried, watching her team from the window in her office above the tennis courts.

And if on cue, both Fuji and Eiji stared up at her, flashing a smile that dazzled her senses. Ryuzaki-sensei never admitted this to anyone but Tezuka – if Oishi and Kikumaru weren't the poster couple of the Seigaku Tennis Club, if Fuji's real potential hadn't depended on his development as a Singles player, then she would have made Kikumaru and Fuji permanent doubles partners.

It wasn't the fact that they worked well as a pair. Rather, every time those two were together, the scent of summer and the promise of blissful chaos followed. They were clearing the path not just for themselves, devoid of regret and sadness, but for the rest of the seniors as well.

Ryuzaki-sensai thought it once, and she thought it again.

Those two really were something else.

Before Ryuzaki-sensei's watchful eyes, Fuji and Eiji were doing something they did every day for the past three years; they were living today with as much vigor and warmth as the sun above, inciting the same light to spread to everyone else, including Horio with his tears and Momo's long, drawn face.

Today was infinite.
--