Chapter Four - "As long as it makes you happy..."

"But…but, Tezumi, you did."

He spoke softly, but somehow everyone appeared to have heard anyway. The air turned to stone around them; nobody moved and Tezumi fought to breathe.

Curiously, it was the lack of noise that awakened a presence of mind in her that she had never tapped into before. This wasn't a conversation she wanted to have in the presence of company. "Fuji," she said with restraint (it felt like some huge, shapeless force was trying to burst forth from the depths of her windpipe), "let's go outside."

General mayhem returned with a blast as her simple request unleashed a virtual hurricane of movement. "Give them some room!" Oishi shouted needlessly as all regulars except Fuji piled out of the clubhouse, followed by Hitomi and her fleeting, bewildered look.

Within seconds the place was empty save for the two of them. Tezumi stared. Now that she'd gotten her requested privacy, she had no idea what to do with it. Fuji wasn't helping. He returned her questioning gaze. "Tezumi? Did I say something wrong again?"

She became aware that she was wearing a rather paralyzed expression. The enormous pressure in her throat made speaking difficult. "D—do—do—you—Fuji, do you even know what 'seduce' means?"

The boy tilted his head to one side, wisps of brown swinging lightly. "Saa…" he said ponderously, and she could see that he was choosing his words with care. (About damn time, she thought.) "I suppose I do, though seeing as we've come across a disagreement, maybe my definition is different from yours?"

"Possibly." After bellowing at him with abandon just minutes before, she couldn't believe her reaction to this new development was so…un-eruptive. "Tell me your definition, then."

"All right." At least there was no fogginess on Fuji's part about being on thin ice. "To be seduced…I think it means to have spending the night with someone become desirous to you."

The sentence ended, and Tezumi's senses heightened, waiting for more. Finally, her breath returned to her in a gasp as she laughed out loud, falling onto the nearest bench as chunks of nervous tension was expelled from within through barks of mirth. This seemed to reassure Fuji, whose smile relaxed. He took a step towards her. "It's not nice to keep such a funny joke to yourself," he teased experimentally.

"Oh—oh, Fuji." Wiping tears from her eyes, she grinned. "Not a bad definition. Very chaste. I think you left out one important element, though."

"What would that be?"

"About you wanting to spend the night with someone? It's only seduction if the other person intentionally makes you feel that way."

"Oh."

"So as long as I never did anything on purpose…" Tezumi gave the doorway a fugitive frown. "We'd better clear that up with the rest of your team, though. You know how Eiji is and I don't need anyone spreading stuff around, even if it's by accident. Social catastrophes aren't really my thing." She got up from the bench. "Come on, let's go while Oishi can still keep them quiet. We've got to—Fuji?"

Noticing that her set of footsteps rang out alone, she peered over her shoulder, to find that the boy hadn't moved.

"Fuji," she chuckled, "there can't be something else, right? The chances of me, say, sleep-seducing you are really, really slim. Now come on, we've got to head back to class."

But as she turned… "So, it really doesn't bother you? At all?"

"What does?"

"That, even with my faulty understanding of 'seduction', I thought… I wanted…"

Sighing, she turned again, this time to face him fully. "You know, when I come to think of it, it surprises me that I don't find the idea more shocking. But—" a shrug "—I don't know. Maybe it's that you're a guy and all. You have your needs and I can't help that. So long as you keep yourself in check—and you do—then…" Another shrug, a careless wave of her hand and she made to leave.

Inwardly, Tezumi wondered at her boldness. Momoshiro was right; she did blush even when asked to hold hands with Fuji. So how was it that she could have a level-headed discussion with him about falling into bed?

Eventually, Fuji caught up with her. They walked back to the school building side by side. "I guess we have to find the others and tell them we had a little miscommunication?" he asked cheerfully.

"Obviously. Having people suspect I—well, it's bad enough. The only worse thing is for everyone to hear about you saying I did it." She shuddered.

Fuji then suggested, by way of a joke, "Would you like it better if they were all saying that I seduced you instead?"

Her response was a groan. "Same thing. I'd still be described as 'loose'. It would make more sense, though, if it were you taking the initiative instead of me."

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know… Maybe it's because you're the only one between the two of us who would actually want to do something like that?" With yet another flamboyant shrug, she left for her first class.

To think Hizashi had held reasonably good hopes for the day. She had met Yuki at the front gates of Hyotei as planned, passed the time by bothering Atobe (whom Hizashi had no reservations about setting an excessively bothersome fan girl on) during his morning tennis practice and made it up to her classroom with no avoidable fuss.

Operation Fan Girl had worked very nicely so far, as it had the day before; Hizashi gained a free sample of tensai-repellent, Yuki got to pester Oshitari (and any tennis regulars who happened to be with him) to her heart's content. Everyone that mattered (Oshitari didn't) was happy.

But then.

A wide selection of emotions ranging from amusement to annoyance spiked and subsided irregularly within her as she surveyed the scene. Hizashi had walked into the room prepared to head straight for her seat as usual, only to find said seat already occupied.

Oshitari Yuushi was sitting at her desk like he had every right to be there, flipping though one of the books she'd left in the desk as though he owned it.

This was obviously meant to create a good deal of inconvenience for Hizashi, seeing as Oshitari clearly didn't mean to be turned out of his chair by anybody except her. Yuki, instantly revealing her changeable and traitorous nature, fluttered to the jerk's side at once, and of course God forbid she should trouble her dear, precious Oshitari-kun to drag his sorry self back to his own seat.

Inflaming irritation dominated her as she caught sight of the smug smirk that curled the corners of his lips. How she hated that aggravating expression. Sometimes she thought that it wasn't what he did which fanned her flames, but how he did it, he way he was surer than any sane person should be that he could do no wrong, the constant pride with which he regarded himself—

Then again (a sudden notion popped up just as the accumulation of agitation in her was beginning to accelerate) he chose awfully bizarre things to have pride in. Hizashi was positive she saw Oshitari's seamless arrogance falter as she broke into a fit of giggles that she reflexively repressed, but was nevertheless visible.

He reminded her of kindergarten (she inwardly sniggered), of that five-year-old she'd sworn never to play with again, way, way back, who had then snatched away one of her, Hizashi's, toys spitefully to continue imprisoning her attention. The resemblance between Third Year Oshitari and the younger Tayama Miyuki was ludicrously striking.

This was a most entertaining turn of events, Hizashi decided. Who could have predicted that the brilliant, sophisticated Tensai of Hyotei would reduce himself to such childish maneuvers?

Well, she thought with a private grin, there was only one way to deal with attention starved babies.

Oshitari felt so alive. He'd never expected to find this kind of—exhilaration—out of the tennis court, but thanks to Hizashi, life in general was so much more thrilling now.

Having imperiously dispatched Yuki, he saw in his peripheral vision that she was rooted at the doorway, and knew exactly what was going through her mind. Her first impulse urged head-on confrontation, of course. But no, she wouldn't act on that impulse; she was too sharp not to see that confrontation was exactly what he was pushing for.

And then? A small stack of books stood in front of him—his textbooks for the next lesson and his homework. A quick examination earlier that morning had confirmed that Hizashi's set was safely in her desk, which he was now physically blocking. In a few minutes, the strictest teacher in school would come for his class, to find Hizashi out of her seat, without her books and missing her homework—unless she came over and did something about him.

Dousuru, Jukumaru? What are you going to do now? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her abruptly start to giggle. There was no reason for her to do that; none that he could see, at least.

So this was why he found her so interesting, he reflected. He knew enough about her to be able to put her in a bind whenever he liked, but his knowledge did not extend to how she would deal with being in that bind. Saa, surprise me then, Jukumaru…

"Ohayo, Oshitari-san!"

Oshitari very nearly jumped, and with his heart still pounding he turned to find the girl of his thoughts facing him squarely, wearing a bright smile.

"Ohayo, Jukumaru," he ejected blankly, thrown quite off balance. Oshitari-san? She hadn't used an honorific with him since… But it didn't matter. He could not let her see that he had been caught unawares by…whatever she was doing. "Ah, so you've finally decided to express your eternal devotion to me? That's very wise of you. Holding in strong emotions isn't good for your health."

"Ne, Oshitari-san." It was as though she hadn't heard. "Want me to tell you a secret?" Much to his astonishment, Hizashi leaned in close and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Your seat's over there," she whispered, pointing discreetly with a benevolent wink. "You might want to go sit in it."

"…Ah…" Before he knew it, he was on his feet, and by then there was nothing to be done because Hizashi had already slipped into her chair. Then he felt something hard nudge his hand gently. "You might find these useful," chirped a cheerful girl, holding out his books, which he accepted mutely.

"Oshitari Yuushi, why aren't you at your desk?"

He looked around quickly at a frowning man whose entrance had escaped his notice. "Gomen, Ishida sensei." He hurried to his seat in a slight daze. What…?

As the lesson commenced, Oshitari did his best to focus on his book, but that didn't prevent the flickers of doubt from invading his mind whenever he wasn't completely honed into memorizing one boring fact or another.

What was going on? What kind of trick did Hizashi have up her sleeve—no, what trick did she think she had up her sleeve? Because it was obvious to anyone that he had won. He had won, hadn't he? He had made her talk to him. Was her politeness and friendliness a white flag she was indirectly waving at him? It would seem that way, except…

There was something…unusual about the tone she assumed when speaking to him. It was as if she were talking to a…a mental retard, or…a child. He could form no hypothesis on why she chose to act that way. Unless she was only trying to confuse him?

Unbeknown to him, Oshitari's eyes narrowed. He didn't find it enjoyable, not knowing his 'battle status', his position in her regard. He didn't find it enjoyable at all.

But almost immediately he relaxed again, the small frown rippling his forehead smoothing out and his mouth finding its familiar smirk as inborn confidence resumed flowing through his veins. The form Hizashi's resistance (if it existed; he couldn't really tell right now) took was inconsequential, he realized. Her drastically altered behavior only meant one thing.

From now on, things would get more interesting. That was all.

Hizashi twirled the pencil in her hand with the practiced ease of one who had been doing it for half her life. Not long after starting school, her fingers had been instinctively drawn into this intricate yet seemingly simple routine of movement. She had never ceased to marvel at how smoothly her writing apparatus spun from one circle into another; there was something about the clean efficiency of the motion that she found beautiful. It was so polished, so in control. It made her feel in control.

"I will expect your finished projects in two weeks, just before some of you will depart on various student exchange programs," Ishida sensei, their Japanese Language teacher, informed crisply, drawing a muffled groan from the class. The Third Year, even for Hyotei students, wasn't easy in terms of managing the workload. "You will do it in groups of four or five," the language instructor continued blandly (his students' complaints were no novelty to him). "Form your groups now and sit together to start your discussions."

At once heads were turned and arrangements were mouthed as everyone split up into their customary groups. Hizashi, Miyuki and three of their friends exchanged glanceis and a nod; they had been working together since Freshman Year. Spontaneously everyone got up and reorganized their seating. Hizashi was waved into a corner where Miyuki and the others were already waiting.

"Jukumaru Hizashi, where exactly are you going?" Ishida sensei's deep, commanding voice suddenly pounded upon everyone in the room.

Turning partially, Hizashi blinked with a slight frown. "To sit with my group, Sensei," she replied, unable to keep the 'well, duh' out of her tone.

"Are you?" He plainly wasn't buying into it. "Then why, may I ask, are you going in the completely wrong direction? Your group is over here."

Quite wrong-footed, she aligned her gaze with her teacher's pointing finger, only to raise an apprehensive brow. Oshitari was the first to intrude into her line of sight, followed by Gakuto and Yuki. Naturally, she wasted no time in raising objections. "There must be some mistake, Sensei. I'm with Tayama-san, Hiroi-san, Yamanaka-san and Tsukada-san." The aforementioned girls gave a little wave of agreement.

They were met with a stern look. "Oshitari Yuushi here maintains that you agreed to work with Muhaki Gakuto, Yuki and himself."

"But I didn't—"

"Oi, Jukumaru. Yuki here said you would, just now. Are you going back on your word?" Oshitari interrupted silkily.

Feeling reproachful eyes on the back of her head, Hizashi glanced back at her friends and shook her head briefly. She had agreed to no such thing—nobody who had ever seen her in the same room with Hyotei's Tensai could possibly see the idea as anything but preposterous. Work with Oshitari indeed!

Ishida sensei, on the other hand, thought differently. "That's enough bickering. Jukumaru Hizashi, since the group you claim to be part of consists of four other members, they can spare your participation this once. You will join Oshitari Yuushi and his group." He returned to the front of the room and with an air of finality began explaining the details of the project.

Silently fuming, Hizashi dropped ungraciously into a chair beside her nemesis.. how old did he think they were, invoking the 'teacher says' effect? Grade school students?

"Maa, please don't be angry, Jukumaru," the dastardly schemer begged with pseudo-sincerity. "Very unfortunately, we simply couldn't find another person who's good friends with Yuki to help us, and it would be unkind to make her work solely with a group of unfamiliar people."

With massive self-control that she later looked back of and was very proud of, she smiled tolerantly. "Why should I be angry, Oshitari-san? It's so very nice of you to think of Yuki's feelings."

Yuki gasped, gawked at her hero with wide, delighted eyes, and beamed on discovering that he actually took her into his considerations.

"Well then," Oshitari addressed Hizashi and Gakuto, not looking at Yuki, "are we all agreed that we'll meet at my house this Saturday to work out the details of our project?"

After a jolt of shock Hizashi scrambled to protest, "Wait, is that really necessary? Why don't we do individual research and then combine—?" But she was cried down by Yuki's and Gakuto's loudly expressed enthusiasm in support of Oshitari's suggestion.

And of course Oshitari himself didn't back her up. "So you'll all be over by…say, ten in the morning? I'll inform my cook that you'll be staying for lunch. There are a couple of laptops around the house, so we'll search for our information concurrently…"

Mutinous, Hizashi withdrew sullenly from the conversation, knowing that whatever he proposed (and therefore she opposed), she would be overruled three votes to one by default. Very soon a pen found its way into her hand and before long it was spinning so quickly, nothing could be seen except a circular blur.

It did not make her feel any better.

A swift, discreet glance confirmed all that Oshitari suspected. Hizashi's revolutionary cooperation, her smiles and polite words, were just a façade, an act meant to throw a monkey wrench in his plans.

This disappointed, pleased and displeased him all at the same time (being a genius provided him with an inhumanly vast emotional capacity).

Firstly, he found it a bit of a let down that Hizashi's intentions were just as he had guessed. Of course, with his extraordinary, prodigious perception, it was honestly quite difficult not to see through people. But all the same, predictability was not interesting. Hizashi was interesting because she was supposed to be unpredictable. A slight anticlimax, her new tricks.

On another level, he was glad that she was at least trying to think of new tricks, even though they weren't the most innovative. The fact that she thought retaliation against him was necessary showed her dislike to be more than enough to keep her attention of him for extended periods of time. He was definitely making progress in that area.

However, it hadn't escaped his notice that he was making progress because she disliked him. More accurately, his progress was her dislike. As a first step, it was a great strategy. Anything to get her to focus on him, observe him, think about him. But then that led to a rather sticky problem. It was that she, well, hated him. And the possibility of him succeeding in capturing her affections while she hated him was unacceptably low.

Oshitari therefore admitted that perhaps it was time to take a different approach, before her interest in him grew unhealthy and reached to the point of becoming, say, murderously obsessive.

The time was ripe, he declared, to show her a more desirable side of himself.

Fuji waited by the gate. It was one of those days on which Tezumi's library shift outlasted his tennis training session, and having said goodbye to his teammates leaving for home, he stood by Seigaku's entrance, passing the time until she came out to meet him.

Though perhaps it would be better…if she didn't.

It would have been virtually impossible to tell just by looking at him, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, the foundations of Fuji's mind shook under a sea of doubt that churned within him like sickly, nauseating mud.

Did he want her to come? Yes, of course he did, but… More importantly, did she want to come? He knew without question that she would show up, but when she did, would she go with him bearing even the slightest intention of enjoying their date, as opposed to simply getting it over with? His sense of security, which he'd always assumed to be so stable, an infallible wall, was rocked threateningly by the uncertainty of it all.

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know… Maybe it's just that you're the only one between the two of us that would remotely want to?"

Through that casual, throwaway remark, Tezumi unwittingly revealed to him what he had been too blind and self-centered to see all along: he was the only one. He was the only one who wanted to go on these dates. He was the only one itching to hold hands. He was the only one to have these nagging feelings that stretched beyond friendship, jerking his heartstrings whenever they were together.

In short, he was the only one these ten days would be making happy, if they continued to progress the way they were.

And being the only one felt…lonely.

Fuji shook himself with all the mental vigor left in him. There he went again. Thinking about himself, always about himself. How he felt and what he wanted. No wonder Tezumi wanted no part in a closer relationship, he thought with bitter rue. When she refused at first, he'd tried to change her mind. Looking back, how arrogant be had been! Shamelessly uplifting himself, he'd taken it for granted that it was within his ability, that he was good enough to win her over.

Reality, being true to itself, was now slapping him in the face with the results of his own ego.

It seemed it was time that Fuji Syusuke, Tensai of Seigaku and the only officially undefeated player on his tennis team, found out he was not, in fact, all powerful. Or perfect.

As the shadows lengthened drearily, he bowed his head in resignation. He couldn't hold it against her for not wanting to meet his unreasonable demands; it wasn't hard to imagine how emotionally taxing it had been for her, forced into dating someone she held no romantic feelings for. Admittedly, putting himself in her shoes obliterated the ignorant bliss he had clung to for so long, evoking a clarity and sensitivity that burned and stung. But…

If—if he must be alone, the only one, then…

Giving her bag a rough shake in a half-hearted attempt to reshuffle its jumbled contents into a less bulky mess, Tezumi hopped down the stone steps leading to Seigaku's library and broke into a brisk trot, making for the exit. She hummed a soft tune as she went. On the whole, her day had gone well in a surprising but welcome way. Somehow, she'd managed to bump into Fuji a lot less than usual, and in the tensai's absence, the resentment of his ardent fans subsided a little. It definitely made life a lot easier.

On passing though a pair of wrought iron gates, a slim, tennis-bag-burdened silhouette immediately came into view. She made a bee-line for it, calling out a greeting.

"Tezumi?" A startled expression came across Fuji's face as he caught sight of her.

She smiled wryly, and teased, "What, forgot I was coming?" despite knowing full well that he wouldn't still be standing there if he had. To her bemusement, his eyes continued to take her in as if they'd come across each other quite by accident, and he still had a hard time believing she was there. "Er, Fuji?"

"No, Tezumi, I would never forget."

Any other day, any other time, she would have groaned, and complained about him overtly and excessively saccharine. Yet right then, such a bleach shadow of sadness passed over him that she could see at once he wasn't merely making his customary jokes. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," he replied faintly, still staring at her like he expected never to see her again.

"Then…" Her next impulse was to ask what was bothering him (his denial didn't change the fact that something was bothering him) but saw that it would only be a waste of breath. If he had any inclination to tell her straight out, he would have already. "So…do you want to go now?" Maybe he would be more open when loosened up after a walk in his favorite park, or over dinner.

For a queer moment, he looked undecided. "Yes, if you're ready."

Nodding, Tezumi fell into step beside him, still watching out of the corner of her eye and wondering what that glimpse of hesitation had meant. Did he not want to follow through with that evening's activities? Had something happened, so that he wanted to cancel? She prepared to ask, but didn't even have time to open her mouth.

"Ne, Tezumi?" His tone weighed heavily on the seemingly casual words.

"Yeah?"

"Do you really want to go out with me?"

So he did want to cancel. "I've got a clear schedule tonight, so it's all right with me. But if there's somewhere else you want to be—"

"No."

The abruptness caught her by surprise, making her breath hitch for a second. "So…" she prompted.

"Tezumi, I…" She could tell he was concentrating, phrasing his answer, though why this was necessary, she couldn't say. "I was wondering…if dating each other is such a good idea after all."

Stunned silence prevailed. Nothing else he could have said would have shocked her more. Having doggedly and relentlessly hounding her to date him for weeks, no, months, he wanted to give up the whole idea two days into the agreed ten? "Fuji, why?" He'd appeared perfectly eager to continue the arrangement just that morning.

"Saa…well…"

It had been a façade. The revelation hit her like violent waves upon a rocky cliff. He had been pretending. A shudder of guilt and regret sank through her midriff. Had she overdone it? In her determination of prove to him that being romantically involved wasn't in either of their best interests, had she been unintentionally unkind? Perhaps even cruel?

"I… Maa… If there's something else you would rather be doing…we could stop."

Tezumi screwed up her eyes in bewilderment. "Fuji, we said ten days," she reminded him, even as the mere thought of breaking loose from these 'trials' and the complications they brought lulled her into a long-lost sense of peace. "It would be unfair to you if we stopped now."

"It doesn't matter." When they reached the crossroads, one leading downtown to the busier part of Tokyo with its shops and sights, the other stretching out to the residential section, he stopped walking, and she followed suit. He then turned to face her, and she found she couldn't quite meet his eye.

"Tezumi, do you really want to go out with me?" he asked again. His face was impassive now. Neutral. He was giving her a bona fide choice.

The notion made her head spin. "Uh—um…" Gulping, she fought to master the panic that fluttered her heart and lightened her head. The most honest answer she had would be, 'no'. No, she didn't want their relationship to develop in this direction. Through flood and fire they had been together, but the truth was, she simply didn't see him the way he hoped she would. And that was something she couldn't change.

One thing prevented her from giving this answer straight out, though. "Er—you want to, don't you? Go out, I mean. So, if that's the case, then I…have no objections." The least she could do was to let him have a chance, if only for the sake of their binding friendship. Sticking through with the next eight days was not so much a preference as a moral obligation.

Fuji, however, didn't seem to consider this. "No, Tezumi." He shook his head. "I'm asking if this is something you find comfortable in continuing."

Her eyes swept over his. Gaze bewildered and frantic, she took in his relaxed jaw, smooth forehead, and loose posture, but nothing provided even the tiniest of hints as to what she should say next. She couldn't say yes and live with herself. She couldn't say no. Not like that. She felt backed into a corner.

The decision was taken out of her hands as Fuji took her lack of response as response enough. "I guess we'll go back to being friends again, ne, Tezumi?" A bright smile widened on his lips.

Instead of smiling back, Tezumi found herself more than a little choked up. What was going on? Here he was, voluntarily offering to make life easier for her, but her initial reaction was far from glad. Indeed, an acute sense of unsettle rendered her restless and uncertain. "But then you—you wouldn't like that…would you?"

Once again, he smiled. A beautiful smile. A joyful smile. "Maa, you'll be happy, Tezumi." For a little while after that, there were no more words, but for a few minutes he continued to stare at her, looking pleased.

Tezumi stared right back, not knowing what to think or do.

Finally, Fuji awoke them both from their thoughts. His lips parted hesitantly, and there was a slight tremble in his voice when he said, "As long as it makes you happy, I really don't mind."

And there was nothing, nothing she could think to say to that.