Things had only escalated from that point onwards.

They were back on thin ice and the rest of the team was starting to notice. He didn't know why he didn't chase after him on that evening to explain what he had thought, to ask him if his worst fears were true, to hold him back and demand an explanation and hope that the words would come out right this time. But he had waited, and held his breath, not knowing what he was waiting for, and the moment had passed. There wasn't anything he could say now to make that glint in Fuji's eyes disappear. Fuji's eyes reflected the phases of his mood, flashes of gold that appeared in an unfathomable blue when he was thrilled, darkening to indigo when his eyes were narrowed below shaded lashes when he was annoyed, and a blue as mad and unfathomable as the sky, when he was really, truly, absolutely pissed.

Tezuka sighed inwardly. He had hoped that they could at least be friends, despite his temporary lapse of sanity on that day in the locker room. Since that day, Fuji had been so angry that Tezuka didn't know how to approach him. He had tried starting conversations, an amazing feat in itself that Inui had noted down almost jealously, but Fuji hadn't given him a chance, cutting off all conversations almost before they even started. Although there were moments when Fuji smiled, he noticed that his smile never quite reached his eyes.

He had made a vow to himself to ignore whatever had happened that day before, locking it away inside his mind. He had made a mistake, and he couldn't take back his actions, as much as he might hope to do so.

"Ne, Tezuka, shall we warm up together?"

Fuji's rage was spiralling darker and deeper into himself; a never-ending abyss of rage seemed to consume the other whenever he even glanced in Tezuka's direction. He didn't know that Fuji would have gotten so angry over a single incident. He admitted it was wrong of him not to explain the matter to Fuji, but it wasn't as though Fuji had protested being kissed senseless. He remembered the moans that Fuji made in his mouth, and unconsciously his grip tightened around the racket.

Enough was enough. He hadn't all the time in the world to pander to Fuji's whims and fancies.

"Zero-shiki serve!"

He heard someone in the audience gasp when he employed that as his opening move. It was only a warming up match, but he had seen Fuji's expression and the only word that came to mind was threat. He didn't quite understand why his hand had gripped the racket that tightly or why unease had seized his body and demanded that he face his opponent with everything that he had. Evidently, it was the wrong move to make. Fuji's displeasure towards personal enemies was never obvious, no matter how angry the tensai was. But Tezuka recognised the same curious stillness that seemed to fall over their surroundings, a hush in their natural soundings that bled into his consciousness and made him painfully aware of an impending violence, as Fuji stood still in the middle of the court, his eyes unreadable against the sunlight.

The ball rushed past his face, the force of its impact colliding heavily against the ground. The rest of the regulars were shocked. It had missed Fuji by a couple of centimetres and he hadn't dodged, hadn't even blinked as he allowed it to go past him. It was the first time they had seen their captain so serious, and they were worried about Fuji's safety when it slowly became apparent that the tensai was in one of his unpredictable moods.

Tezuka repeated his serve; a split second later, Fuji's return struck the corner of his court before it slamming against the fence with such force that it became lodged firmly in place. The regulars had fallen silent, and more of the tennis members were heading in their direction, curious about the growing crowd when there wasn't supposed to be an appointed match for the day.

He was fascinated and enthralled by the idea of meeting Fuji head on for the first time in his life, their initial match ruined by the reckless tantrums of their seniors. It had been his dream for the longest time, to face Fuji Syuusuke. Fuji who had never stood across him on the court, Fuji of the Triple Counters, Fuji whose tennis was as graceful, playful and startling at the same time, Fuji who lay eternally in slumber, Fuji who gave everything to protect others and saw no point in protecting himself, Fuji who slid from his grasp like water, Fuji who defied all logic to return to him over and over again, and the Fuji who was bent on driving him into a corner, the same Fuji who hit each ball closer and closer to him, forcing him into an entrapped space, making twist his arm at unnatural angles in order to combat his shots.

Fuji whose eyes were alive and pained and beautiful -

It was all the same person whom he had fallen in love with.

Tezuka's vision darkened for a moment when the pain hit. Vaguely, he remembered the alarm of the other regulars as he collapsed, cradling his arm which shook uncontrollably in tortured spasms of pain, each bolt of crucifying pain running up his shoulder and forcing him to drop his racket.

There were possibly many summers that lay ahead of this one. There would be more times when they would play matches again, he couldn't imagine a time where he wouldn't be able to face him and congratulate him on a match well played. The sky would be just as blue on the days to come. Just like today. He knew that there would be many, many days that lay ahead of them and the pain was wrenching but only temporary.

He couldn't tell if droplets that fell, were from Fuji's tears or his own. His head was bowed and his hair had fallen across his eyes. He wanted to talk, he wanted to say his name before the regulars reached them; already he could hear the sound of footsteps coming in their direction. He wanted to take Fuji's hand, and stop it from curling so desperately around his racket, scraping so harshly against the rough flooring until red abrasions were starting to show. He wanted to turn the strength in those fingers away from his self-destructive tendencies, away from the blood that his nails were digging out of his skin, away from the recrimination that Fuji was starting to turn upon himself.

It was alright, they had been caught in the moment, and he hadn't known, there was no need –

"I'm unforgivable."

Fuji was looking at him at last, and he found himself lost for words at the intensity of their loneliness. In him, the one whom Tezuka had seen and loved at last, inside the most delicately graceful person resided an unbearable loneliness, a sheer, fumbling awkwardness that didn't know what to do with itself, constructing of a façade that broke and repaired itself through sheer will, over and over again.

"I'm unforgivable. Unforgivable."

"I - "

His reply was interrupted by the regulars who arrived at their side, hauling him up with difficulty and demanding that he take the rest of the week off, and have his arm inspected by the school nurse. He tried to tell them repeatedly that it wasn't anyone's fault that he had wanted to play the match, but the team was too beside themselves with worry to listen to him. His voice could barely be raised above a whisper as the pain tore through him again; ravaging his shoulder and making him stagger as he stood up abruptly.

All the regulars had visited him in the school infirmary that day, even though the nurse had given him an anaesthetic which caused him to doze through the pain. When he asked, the rest of the team affirmed that Fuji had visited him, and sat beside him for the longest period of time. No one knew what Fuji had said to him, only that he had asked the rest to leave while he spoke to the captain alone. He couldn't remember what Fuji had said, nor what he had replied, but Fuji did look slightly better when he saw him the next day, reverting back to his usual self before he had gotten angry with Tezuka. However, he was still avoiding Tezuka, never overtly, but Tezuka noticed that the other always left with the others at the end of the day, when he had stayed back and accompanied him previously. He didn't wait for Tezuka outside his class to walk home together, nor did he accompany Tezuka in the school library to finish the weekly administrative affairs for the tennis club. He didn't go out of his way to be friends with Tezuka as he had in the past, and now that he stopped, Tezuka was at a complete loss.

While he had been wrapped up in his affairs, he didn't notice the problems that began to brew inside the club.

He had been in the library working on his science report, typing out laborious page after page for the assignment that was due in two weeks. The next few weeks would be busy as the regulars would have to undergo training from hell in preparation for the regional matches which would be upon them in a month's time. Unaware of the passage of time since he had first sat down to begin his work, it was already half past six when he next looked at his watch.

Rising from his seat, he wandered over to the library's window, taking in the sunset sky above the school. There were two figures standing near the school gate. Tezuka wouldn't have taken note of them in particular, if he hadn't noticed that they were carrying their racket bags with them. When he looked closer, he realised that Fuji and Takashi were going home together. From his viewpoint, he couldn't see Fuji's expression, only Takashi, who looked almost too happy to be walking beside him. His expression changed to something unrecognisable as they walked on, talking along the way. He would have dismissed his immediate notions as nothing but sheer jealousy that Fuji would not be as open around him, if not for Takashi who had abruptly stopped and pulled Fuji into a hug.

Tezuka loathed that moment when he had taken in such a sight. He hated discovering that Fuji did not belong to him exclusively, did not mind turning to another for help and comfort, a privilege which he withheld jealously from Tezuka. His instinctive reaction was to hate Takashi for taking away what was his, but when he thought it over obsessively for the next few days, he hated Fuji more for doing this to him. Sometimes he thought that he loved Fuji more desperately than he ever loved anything else in the world aside from tennis, sometimes he thought that he loved Fuji so much it felt as though he was drowning in his emotions, feelings that he had to conceal in case he pushed Fuji further away from him, and while he had waited, and contemplated, and waited further, Fuji had turned to Takashi and the latter was more than happy to welcome him into his arms.

"It's been three years."

Tezuka thought that if he couldn't be with Fuji, he didn't want to swallow his feelings and pretend to be friends with him instead. Consequently, he concentrated on tennis again, forcing himself to the limits of his endurance and focusing on helping his arm to recover.

Then Fuji's relationship with Kikumaru had fractured, the bullying began and Tezuka continued to pretend that he had nothing to do with the entire affair. Fuji and Yuuta's relationship deteriorated sharply, and Tezuka hadn't even been aware of that until he had read his diary. He had learnt of how Yuuta's schoolmates heard the rumours concerning his homosexual brother and began provoking him until he lost his temper and wound up returning home covered in injuries. It wasn't so much that their family explicitly placed the blame on Fuji, but his parents fought over the issue on numerous occasions, and the already tense environment had escalated until no one was talking normally to each other anymore. It came at an especially bad time, when Yuuta had decided on his ambition to turn professional, despite their parents' protests that he wasn't, well, very good at tennis unlike his brother. Yuuta naturally blamed Fuji for it, and his temper had exploded when Fuji seen him being beaten up by a group of schoolmates and protected him.

Fuji continued to seek out Tezuka, and he had turned away, and pretended that he hadn't heard any of his pleas. Fuji started cutting himself, leaving faint scars behind that only Tezuka noticed, and Tezuka had the satisfaction of telling him coldly that psychiatric help was always available and if he needed a suspension from the tennis club, Tezuka would be happy to grant it to him. Fuji had ceased, but he had never stopped smiling, almost to the extent that their juniors were terrified of him, and Takashi looked more and more strained with every passing day.

He had sought out Tezuka and let him know that he had been giving Fuji advice and support in trying to mend his relationship with the captain. But he hadn't known that when it meant something to him, when all he could see and think about was Takashi following Fuji wherever he went, and letting Fuji hold his hand and hug him whenever he needed comfort. He promised that he would talk to Fuji at last, if only to ease the worries of his teammates, especially Takashi and Oishi who worried the most about Fuji's rapid deterioration. Fuji fell further into depression every day, and even tennis was not enough to hold his attention. The previously undefeated Fuji Syuusuke was defeated in rapid succession by the other team members, until Ryuuzaki-sensei had called Fuji up to speak with her, threatening him with an expulsion from tennis. On that day, Tezuka had overheard and interceded on his account, making her promise to keep him in the team, before grabbing Fuji by the wrist and dragging him outside.

Tezuka sighed inwardly as he stood at the familiar rooftop and looked at the darkening scenery beyond the school.

There were too many memories in Seigaku which had followed him even after he left for Germany. It had also been late evening when Tezuka had agreed to meet him, promised to talk if that was all he wanted. At that point in time, he had been too tired to consider anything further, but he could promise at least that much. Although it was ironic that Fuji had fought for so long, for a chance just to talk things through with him, when he had vanished before they even had a chance to say what was on their minds.

"Sometimes I turn, and I hear aniki crying."

"Sometimes I wonder if Fuji cannot leave, because he has something left unfinished?"

Come to think of it, it was exactly 5 years ago since that day when he had disappeared on November 13. If he closed his eyes and thought back of that day, so many years ago, it felt as though nothing had changed at all. He loved Fuji then, and loved Fuji even now, even though he was too late to apologise for everything which he had done. Sometimes, when things appeared to be too complicated, he forgot to take a step backwards, never realising that the complication was all inside his mind.

"Ne, Tezuka, shall we meet there tomorrow at 9 then?"

He could almost hear the gentle lilt of Fuji's voice as he turned to the same direction which Fuji had been facing.

From far away, the Tokyo Tower was beckoning.

END CHAPTER