From Far Forgotten
A/N: So sorry this chapter took so long! Yeah I know, a ridiculous amount of time has passed since the last update. This is supposed to be the best chapter so... -sweatdrop- ...
I'd just like to say, Suteishichic is my hero. -heart- If you have not yet read her fic, Learning to Fall, make sure to go read it after this! There was a lot of L2L influence during the planning of this chapter.
I don't really like the ( ) part of the title of this chapter, but I couldn't think of anything better. I thought of 'thief' but that didn't have the right connotations. Hindrance was the most Atobe-like thing I could think of. -sweatdrop-
And the major warning - I wrote half of this chapter over two years ago, and the rest just recently, so, my apologies if it doesn't 'mesh' well. Hopefully this still works out the way I had imagined when I first started working on this story. -sweatdrop-
Thank you for all your reviews! Your encouragement is what keeps me going even after all this time.
Special thanks to Tessa for beta-ing this fic, it was her pokes that got me to finish it.
Chapter 7: Atobe's Memories (The Hindrance)
"Tezuka belongs to me." Atobe watched him with cool, calculating eyes and his fingers pressed against his face, mocking the shadowy youth before him.
Fuji stared back in frozen horror. He wasn't sure what shocked him more: Atobe's deception or his absolute confidence. But flashing back through the events of the past few hours, Fuji felt more and more the fool.
"You-"
"Tricked? Deceived? Hn. I was given an opportunity, and I took it. This is a basic rule amongst business men." A smirk spread across his antagonist's face, one that shone with elitism.
Fuji bit at the edge of his tongue. He was such a fool; how could he have not seen through the diva's bad acting? Yet, he had wanted so badly to be seen, to be remembered by someone, to still be acknowledged as existing. . . and then it hit him. That had probably been Atobe's intention all along.
"You set me up," he growled, his brain ticking rapidly away. He couldn't think very well when he was depressed, but when he was angry, he was brilliant. And right now he was very, very angry. "You planned this out with Mizuki. Everything you told me earlier was a lie."
"Not everything," Atobe said airily, curling his hair up with his fingers. "My family's onmyouji really did help me, with the technicalities and all. Did you really think that twit from St. Rudolph could have managed this by himself?"
Atobe stepped forward, causing Fuji to back into the tennis court fences that they had somehow already reached. He cringed as the diva leaned towards him, glaring down at him with narrowed eyes.
"I love Tezuka in a way you never could, Fuji Syuusuke," he sneered. "My love is so much greater than yours, and I won't allow you to deceive him any longer."
He turned back towards the path, leaving Fuji trembling against the fence. Though whether he was trembling out of fear or anger, the tensai himself wasn't sure. His blue eyes pierced at his antagonist's backside, quivering with sharp, intense emotion.
The diva paused, finally noticing he wasn't being followed, and turned back slightly, passing Fuji a cruel smirk. "Come," he ordered, a glint in his eyes as he waved his hand as if tugging on a leash.
Fuji almost yelped as his body was pulled forward, just as it had when Mizuki had motioned him forward. Though now the control was so much stronger . . . the spell was almost complete, Fuji realized in horror.
"Soon I'll take the look in Tezuka's eyes that was pointed at you. . ." Atobe continued, albeit more softly, as if speaking to himself.
Hopelessness covered the tensai's body and clouded into his mind, until he could no longer hear the diva's endless declarations of love and victory over Tezuka.
The door to the club house was before them.
Those long days of yearning were finally at their end, Atobe could just feel it. All the want, all the need, all the desires that had built up over the past year were now fading into the present . . .
During his second year of middle school he first heard about the stoic tennis prince who'd whipped the courts at Seigaku and was tearing up the junior high tennis scene. A second year like himself, Tezuka Kunimitsu was rumored to control the ball as God controlled the weather, while bearing as little an expression as a stone Buddha.
Atobe didn't buy a word of it. In a nation desperate to break even small waves on the international tennis domain, prodigial hopes were a dime a douzen, and from the tournaments he'd attended so far, Tachibana Kippei and Sanada Genichirou seemed far closer to the real thing.
And of course, he himself was among the royals when it came to potential and talent. Some accused him of being egotistical and pretentious, but he only proclaimed he was good because he was. At Hyotei he rose unparalleled as the club's ace, easily succeeding their captain who only kept onto his position because he held seniority. Even their draconian coach, Sakaki, acknowledged his skill and often placed Atobe in the singles one spot.
Then, at that year's Kantou tournament, he finally saw him. Tezuka Kunimitsu. The real thing.
He was the real thing. He was all the rumors said and more. Atobe kept his Insight active almost throughout the entire game between Tezuka and the captain. For the first time ever, he found himself cursing his coach for placing him in singles one instead of singles two where a vice captain belonged. Never before had he seen such grace in handling the ball, such passion in the stroke of the racket. And yet, Tezuka's face never once changed, his lips remained taught in frowning, his eyes hidden behind thin rimmed glasses.
Atobe didn't know what he wanted to watch more: the game or that face. The game was alright, Tezuka was amazing, but with a pathetic opponent like Hyotei's captain the brilliance of the bespectacled man remained shaded. Atobe's right hand ached to grasp a racket, to rip his foolish sempai off the court and draw out Tezuka's true power, the true magnificence that Atobe knew only he was worthy of facing, that he alone was destined to defeat.
But one thing held him back, or rather, it dampened his fighting spirit with another emotion, a more rapacious one. Watching that lineless face, that stern expression coupled with a pulsing emotion pouring into his game, something inside Atobe stirred that he had never known he posessed. For the first time, he wanted to watch someone, wanted to notice someone other than himself. He wanted to see more of Tezuka's tanned skin, slightly pearled with sweat, past those delicate golden frames, which he certainly could smash away in an instant, revealing clearly those deep hazel orbs, the ones he realized swirled with emotion. Tezuka Kunimitsu had no expression because all his passion concentrated in his eyes, more potent than an aphrodisiac, more stimulating than a complete orchestration of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. Atobe wanted to reach out and smooth those rambunctious brown strands of hair, massage away the powerful tension strained within those well-shaped muscles.
He wanted Tezuka Kunimitsu.
Atobe smirked quietly to himself, wondering if this was the first thing he'd ever wanted that he couldn't easily buy.
Despite the victory of their champion, Seigaku had lost to Hyotei (thanks to Atobe's own brilliance, of course) and exited the tournament. Over the next year he'd watched Seigaku's vice captain at any chance he got, at any sort of minor non-league tournament Tezuka entered or friendly matches between schools that he could unsuspiciously attend. A few of his friends noticed his unusual interest, and he'd shrugged them off, pointing out that he'd finally found an adequate rival, someone he aimed to defeat.
That was half of the truth, but the other half was that he just wanted to watch him... watch Tezuka, watch Tezuka's movements, watch Tezuka's body as he moved, watch Tezuka's body and store it in his memory so that when he lay in bed, he had a fairly accurate picture to day dream with, imagining whatever hot things made him come. He was above masturbating - he always had some girl or some guy willing, sometimes even begging for him to do them, and he'd use Tezuka's image as a medium just to get hard. Then it was Tezuka beneath him, Tezuka's warmth holding him, Tezuka he was inside of and Tezuka who he made scream. He usually kicked his partner out right after he orgasmed, since he never wanted to cuddle or do anything to remind him that it wasn't really Tezuka afterall.
Atobe decided not to make a move right away. Ore-sama's prowess was undeniable, of that he was certain, but Tezuka was no push over; if he was, Atobe wouldn't have been so interested. He knew better than to underestimate the tower of iron for whom he planned to an amour. He decided to wait until the day he defeated Seigaku's star and then claim him for his own.
His dream - no, his plan finally came to fruitation during their senior year when Atobe finally faced his ultimate rival at the fateful Kantou tournament. On the other end of the court, separated only by a thin net, stood Tezuka Kunimitsu, watching and waiting with mutual intense interest. Simply the touch of hands at the game's opening sent warmth into Atobe's length, and his smile broadened at the thrill of playing in a double innuendo.
He would make his move after his victory.
Their match that day even now was considered legendary. The small win Atobe managed seemed unbelievable even to him. . . Tezuka had in no way failed to disappoint. If anything, the diva found that despite having the extra tie breaking point, he couldn't declare utter victory in triumph.
But that didn't matter. He won. He'd beaten Tezuka at tennis. He'd earned his right to claim Tezuka as his own.
He neared the stoic brunette after the match, while all other eyes focused on Hiyoshi and that Seigaku freshman. He prepared in his head how best to make his declaration. . . but when he approached the other team, he saw Fuji Syuusuke, the lithe tensai who'd swiftly and effortlessly beaten Jiroh, take Tezuka aside, his expression and gestures clearly overcome with worry.
Of course, Atobe was above spying, but even though he simply followed after them, they didn't notice him, since their eyes stayed only on each other. The two then slipped behind some empty bleachers around an unused tennis court, barely out of view.
A few steps to the right, and Atobe felt his blood instantly begin to boil. There, in broad daylight, that bitch of a tensai shamelessly made out with Tezuka, the one who should have been his, who should have admitted his defeat and brought Atobe's fantasies into reality.
Feelings of anger, betrayal, and jealousy raged within him, tearing fiercly at him even more so then when he learned of Hyotei's overall loss and exit from the tournament. When he returned home for the night, he ordered one of his classmates who was always ready to fuck to come to him, and screwed the poor kid hard. Yet, he couldn't come and was left feeling unsatisfied; he couldn't picture Tezuka anymore without picturing that damn Fuji kissing him as well.
He kicked his classmate out - he didn't even know the guy's name - and began tearing his sheets to pieces, ripping apart the pure Chinese silk, and pounding up the pillows until finally, he was so exhausted that he collapsed onto the ruined mattress and passed straight out into sleep.
Even in his dreams, that image of Seigaku's team lined up at the end of the matches was etched into his mind. Standing next to Tezuka was Fuji Syuusuke, watching him with that infuriating smile, that smile that said, 'He's mine. I won. You can't have him because I'm here.'
'You can't win.'
It was hardly a week after that that his family's onmiyouji approached Atobe with a proposal.
The door for him was finally open. No more substitutes. Tezuka would finally be his.
"You'll be staying out here," he announced to Fuji, while slipping the talisman out of his shirt pocket. "It would be bad for you if I tore this up, ahn?" He waved the tiny paper between his fingers, the kanji for Fuji Syuusuke waving flimsly with it. Only those few characters allowed Fuji to escape from Mizuki. The diva turned his back to the tensai and the glaring blue orbs that burned with anguish.
Atobe swept into the club room, allowing his prowress to fill the tiny space, eyes flickering only slightly when Tezuka entered his vision.
Seigaku's buchou sat calmly and quietly on one of the benches, legs crossed with some sort of paperwork set upon the knee, which the brunette dutifully filled out. He glanced up at Atobe's entrance and gave no more notion of disturbance than if a leaf had floated by. That perfect, stoic expression never changed.
Tilting his head to the side in slight acknowledgement, Tezuka meticulously set his papers to the side and rose to stand on par with Atobe.
"May I help you?" he finally said, as if Atobe were just one more common visitor to Seigaku's tennis abode.
Forced to stay outside, Fuji watched in devastation as Atobe approached the one he loved. He couldn't hold back his anxiety especially since he could barely hear what transpired beyond the club room's window.
After all, Tezuka didn't remember him; he didn't remember he had a boyfriend, so he had no reason to turn down Atobe's advances.
Fuji focused the last of his power so that he could hear past the glass.
" - will suite both of us," Atobe was saying.
The diva then swiftly closed the gap between Tezuka and himself, forcing the stoic buchou to press against the wall in order to avoid physical contact.
"No more substitutes, Tezuka."
Trapped just beyond the glass, the fair haired tensai watched with disdain in his eyes. He was terrified of Atobe stealing away Tezuka, but at the same time, anger rode through his veins. Even if Tezuka did not love him, he wouldn't have done something as pathetic as using Fuji as a substitute. What Atobe had said was absolutely insulting. For what Fuji loved most about Tezuka was his pride.
Inside, the two captains stared each other down. Tezuka quirked an eyebrow, still looking as calm as ever.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Atobe snorted, that haughty smirk stretching instantaneously across his face.
"I'm saying we should date."
He lifted Tezuka's chin with his fingers and looked at him straight in the eyes.
"Tezuka, will you go out with me?"
Surprised etched its way onto Tezuka's face, his eyes widening just a little. After a long pause, Tezuka finally replied,
"Atobe . . . are you asking me out on a date?"
Atobe chuckled. "I'm asking for more than just a date." His hand slipped down Tezuka's jacket, pressing lightly against his side, as if cupping in his body. "We should be lovers, you and I."
Another long pause followed, along with narrowing hazel eyes and a long sigh. Tezuka covered Atobe's sneaking hand with his own, and pulled it away while saying, "I'm sorry, but I don't think of you that way. Let's just -"
"Don't treat me like some girl, Tezuka," Atobe growled. "I know your preference." He tried to replace his hand, but Tezuka somehow moved sideways along the wall to avoid it. "We fit together," the diva continued. "Top of our class, captains, student body president. Our composure, our ability at tennis... "
"I'm sorry. I'm not interested."
Few words as always, Tezuka, thought Fuji. He loved the tacit, minimalist side of Tezuka, but sometimes he found it painful, never to hear those important words from his lover's mouth...
"Tezuka," Atobe sounded irritated, almost angry. "What is it you want? You don't realize my family's net worth. My position as heir... the things I could give you. The life we could share. . . . If you're connected to me, you'll never have any hardships. Your family, your education, your career . . . yes, tennis, all will be sponsered for you."
Tezuka merely shook his head.
The diva was growing angry at Tezuka's rejection. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Tezuka was supposed to realize that he loved him. That Atobe loved Tezuka and that Tezuka surely loved Atobe as well. That they were perfect together. That they were destined to be together.
"I'll give you anything!" he almost screamed, wanting to shake the silent man before him. Why didn't Tezuka get it?! "I'll give you Japan!"
Tezuka didn't respond, his frown only growing tighter. Atobe couldn't understand why Tezuka wasn't agreeing, wasn't smiling at him the way the stoic man had smiled at Fuji, especially now that Fuji was gone... the diva felt his heart sinking. He was serious.
In one swift move of desperation, Atobe quickly leaned forward and pressed his lips against the youth before him.
Fuji lost his ability to breath as he helplessly watched Atobe connect to Tezuka, who only stood there with his arms folded, not responding, not moving, not stopping the assult on his lips, not... kissing back, Fuji realized.
For Atobe, the kiss lasted forever and yet ended in an instant.
He couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand why Tezuka wasn't returning his kiss, wasn't falling to the heat of his prowess. The stoic being didn't even move. He stood as still and stony as Buddha's statue, not even a twitch of his lips in response to the warmth the diva tried to convey.
A soft wind could have blown by and moved Tezuka more than he was at that moment. He was so apathetic, so indifferent to Atobe's despondence as he pulled away, that even Fuji felt a small twinge of pity for the diva. His feelings were obviously so passionate and yet rejected so coldly.
". . . Why?" Atobe's inquiry echoed quietly in the small club room. "Why aren't you accepting me?" His voice rose with trembling anger. "How can you not want me?! We're perfect for each other!"
"Because I don't love you," Tezuka said flatly, in his normal, stoic way. "I'm sorry, but I can't force myself to return your feelings. It wouldn't be fair to you, either."
Pushed back by that cold, aloof hazel gaze, the diva took a few crestfallen steps away from the wall.
"...Would't be fair..." A bitter, curling laugh rippled across the stale air. Suddenly Atobe couldn't stop laughing, running out of breath at the irony of such a statement.
He can't love you, Atobe, Fuji thought wistfully, he doesn't even love me... The tensai watched with desolate eyes as Atobe slumped from the club room. Tezuka remained still and aloof, with less variance in expression than a Noh mask.
Fuji pitied them both for loving such a man.
The door slammed shut, loudly and somehow tiredly, shocking the light haired youth out of his thoughts.
Immediatly Atobe glared at him, though his eyes shook with something akin to jealous anger, red rimmed and horribly jaded.
"I lose to you."
His voice was cold, yet burning at the same time. A wretched desire for some sort of relief, some sort of retribution to soothe away the searing pain of the rejection gurgled up inside him.
"Now, you're no more then a bitter memory." His lips drew slowly up into a bitter smirk. "One that I don't need to remember..."
Atobe drew the small sliver of paper from his pocket, the kanji for Fuji Syuusuke flashing tauntingly between them.
Fuji's eyes widdened in horror as the diva spitefully tore the talisman in two.
"No!" Fuji's scream accompanied the motion of his fingers as he reached out to grip the last floating pieces of his freedom torn away by the ripping breeze. But the spell quickly took affect as his last chain to the outside world snapped. His translucent body completely faded as his spirit was pulled away, and all of the tensai's senses fell to pure and utter darkness.
Cold and alone in his rival's school grounds, Atobe straightened with a meager bit of painful satisfaction. He felt like he had just gotten revenge for something, but he couldn't remember what...
Some review replies: When this fic was first planned I did loosly have a Jiroh chapter scheduled, but unfortunatly it got cut. Sorry AtoJi fans -teardrop- I did have a funny idea for AtoSae though -sweatdrop-
When I first conceptualized this fic, like, two years ago, I wasn't much of a Hyotei fan, but now I love Atobe so this was hard to write. The language reflects Atobe's mood. (Personally, I tend to cuss in my thoughts more when I'm angry -sweatdrop-). Sorry, sorry! But alas, it has to be this way.
Only two to three chapters more to go! -huff,puff- I'll do my best -mega sweatdrop- SORRY FOR THE SUPER LONG HAITUS! But I always planned to finish this fic, and I will! ... In time.
Reviews are encouragment! It's your reviews that reminded me to keep working on this fic. Review review review!