From Far Forgotten
A/N: This chapter is going to be short. -sigh- Sorry about that, I meant for the chapters to get progressively longer. However, this chapter wasn't actually supposed to exist but... I was having trouble getting the flow and time line right. Sorry! I'll do my best to write the next chapter, though.
Now, keep in mind that I wrote this chapter years after writing chapter 3, so... since I love Mizuki, some small things have changed. Sorry for the inconsistencies! ... uh hopefully you won't even notice them. -sweat drop- And it's not like the plot has changed at all.
Answers to review questions: Because Atobe destroyed the talisman, he also forgot about Fuji and everything relating to him. He only remembered Fuji in the first place because he had the talisman with Fuji's name on it.
Feel free to ask more questions!
Chapter 8: Mizuki's Memories (The Desire)
Everything was falling into place.
The one he desired drew closer even as he arranged the paper strips around his room, the ones that man had given him, endued with spiritual power. They were the final component of the web he had long ago begun to weave, some of the many arms of cursed darkness he had used to pull his target towards him. And like a spider, he could sense his prey was tangled in his lair, kicking and fluttering but only succeeding in tightening the tendrils wrapped around him.
Fuji Syuusuke, the one he'd intensely observed with ruinous obsession, would now belong to Mizuki Hajime.
Since Atobe finally allowed the tensai's existence to fade from his mind, Fuji had fallen to even less of a tangible existence. Now only Mizuki could clearly remember the fair-haired youth. Fuji existed only for him.
Fuji was his.
Mizuki knew that he would surely pay a price for playing with such darkness. The curse he'd viciously cast worked incredibly well, more so than he'd imagined it possibly could. Even Yuuta had forgotten his own older brother and gone about school and practice as usual, albeit a bit more agitated. Though, even the brunette's irascibility disappeared after just a few days. The world continued to spin like normal, unnoticing and uncaring that one of its occupants had simply ceased to exist.
The small part of him called his conscience warned that anything so unnatural would incur retribution, but he ignored it like he always did. He knew his soul was already slipping away.
Even before that man had taught him the black arts, he'd become desperate in his attempts to grasp, to understand Fuji Syuusuke. He wanted the ability to predict the prodigy's reactions, like he could everyone else's, and it frustrated him to no end that his data always turned out wrong. The tensai not only did the opposite of whatever he expected, but would do everything he couldn't imagine, couldn't even believe.
Actually, when that man explained the curse, Mizuki balked it off. He didn't quite disbelieve in magic; he knew enough about fortune telling and séance to know it wasn't all hocus pocus. But he believed such supernatural intervention came with a price tag, a black, blood-stained one, and had refused it out of caution.
But Fuji Syuusuke continued to slip from his fingers, again and again. He needed to know more. The obsession clawed vigorously at him, a monstrous shadow growing in his belly, spilling through his pores and becoming the eyes on every move, every shift, every breath the tensai took. Even the tiniest motion of brushing his hair back with his fingers entered the recordings; all contributed to the generation of an absolute scenario.
But it was never enough.
He couldn't predict when the tensai was going to win; he couldn't predict when the tensai was going to lose, either, since he seemed to do both on a whim. Official matches he mostly always won of course, but Mizuki could never calculate how, or what sort of moves he would use.
Outside of tennis Fuji was even more of an enigma, always dancing lightly in his relationships with his friends and family. He claimed he loved them, then would turn around and torment them with wasabi or Inui's strange juices, or tease them in subtle, clever ways about anything he could. He didn't even spare his secret lover, Tezuka, from his sadistic habits.
That relationship had been easy to uncover. Though the tensai kept everything else in his life well and carefully hidden, those two were constantly falling into make-out sessions, often at the most inconvenient times and in public places, as if purposely tempting fate to discover them and expose them to public opinion. Still, Mizuki mused, they never got caught, well, at least not by those who would tattle. He himself never cared to spread rumors since it simply wasn't important.
Tezuka didn't interest him. Mizuki easily accepted that no one in St. Rudolph could beat the unparalleled tennis player, even knowing his weaknesses, and since they played team matches anyways he simply threw that one away. He didn't bother to collect any data on the tennis captain, other than his connection to the tensai.
Still, their relationship... amused him in a way, and that man had explained that Fuji's love for the stoic brunette would be the key to completing the curse. Ironic, he mused, that love would be the propellant for darkness.
He hardly knew that man: why he was helping Atobe and him, or even his name, only that that man was a master of puppets. Mizuki knew this much at least because he was the same way, always trying to manipulate and control the people around him. It went along with the saying, 'takes one to know one.'
Atobe spent so much energy prancing on his high elitist stool and believing himself to be so perfect and wonderful that he couldn't see when he was being controlled. That man clearly planned everything, even while Atobe acted like he was the one calling the shots, deciding when and how to activate the curse, and what roles the two of them would play in it. The diva never noticed the puppet strings tied around his wrists and ankles, silently twisting and tweaking his actions.
Mizuki saw his own strings clearly but didn't mind. He would use anything, anyone in order to accomplish his goals, even allow himself to be used by another if it meant he could use that person in return. Yes, the puppet could dance without the puppeteer, and he knew that man needed someone with strong, powerful feelings in order to fuel the curse.
Between Mizuki and Atobe, the required energy was provided, and everyone would get what they wanted.
Theoretically.
Mizuki knew enough from his data that Atobe would not be successful in his voyage for Tezuka. The frozen captain of Seigaku melted for only one, and even if Fuji disappeared from the Spartan's mind, it was highly improbably the diva could slide in the empty crack.
So Mizuki didn't mind waiting until the elitist finished his tryst with the tensai; it was only a matter of time before Atobe destroyed the talisman he had, the extra pole that allowed Fuji a small range of freedom to escape from him.
After so many days, the diva made his move, and the scene played out in accordance with Mizuki's scenario.
The only talisman now left was Mizuki's.
The time had finally come.
His control was complete.
Darkness lifted like a curtain, leaving thin, veiled outlines in the dim, shaded room. Fuji could barely make out his surroundings, though wherever he had appeared after his erratic travel through time-space was hardly lit. If it was day, the sun was denied, and if it was night, the moon was refused its usual spying. Time itself had been barred entrance to the tiny place. Only tiny candles, placed in the room's four corners, flickered tauntingly and hardly cast even shadows.
A strange weight wrapped around the tensai's body, holding him in place. Chains, he realized, heavy steel with thick links, lay across the back and front of his legs, forcing him to stay on his knees, and wrapped around his arms and chest, keeping him still. His skin prickled at the cold touch of metal, and for the first time he became aware of the absence of any cloth covering him. He realized he was completely naked.
Completely vulnerable.
And then he heard it, the soft breathing, the shifting of shadows, and realized he was not alone in the room.
He let out a trembling breath, and asked in a quiet voice what he already knew, "Who..."
"You know who, Fuji Syuusuke," came Mizuki's ratty voice. His sharp, presuming tone sent fearful tremors through the tensai's body.
". . . Where am I?" Pride urged him to hide his fear, and he bit the edge of his tongue to stop it from shaking.
His inquiry was met with a chuckle, that horrible gurgle the obsidian haired youth always made. "Does it really matter? Finally, you are mine alone."
A cold, dry hand stroked slowly down his spine, drawing an involuntary shudder from the lithe youth. Fuji's stomach churned at the light touch, tightening and making him feel ill.
"You exist only for me."
Fuji bit the inside of his lip, focusing on the pain and denying his body any chance to rebel. "You're a creep," he mustered, glad his voice came out far more sharply than he felt.
"Perhaps, but at least I'm opaque," Mizuki chuckled, while twirling his hair with his fingers, "which is far better than some people."
"You did this to me."
The fashion zealot smirked at his prey, enjoying the way small goose bumps appeared on the tensai's skin wherever he touched. "I would like to take credit, but actually I had quite a bit of help, if that makes you feel any better."
Fuji squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to ignore the fingers grazing the back of his neck and along his shoulders. "Why are you doing this?"
The smirk dulled a little, then grew into a twisted grin. It seemed the tensai was always a tensai and no curse could strip him of such a title. Mizuki should have had the upper hand; he had complete control over the youth, and even without the chains, Fuji would have to follow any action Mizuki bound him to. And yet the tensai boldly questioned him as if the manager had no choice but to honestly answer.
Always defying prediction. Always.
It was so beautiful...
"Why? Nfu, this is why." Mizuki's icy hands drifted across his captive's back, sordidly caressing the tense muscles below his shoulders. "You resist me. You deny me. You refuse to give me your data." He touched, here, there, lightly but not overly invasive. He wanted the youth off guard. His efforts were soon rewarded when the normally imperceptible youth shuddered under his caress. He was so close, so close to victory.
Fuji wanted to scream but no sound came out. His body involuntarily shuddered. He breathed out sobbing gasps, his throat constricted and left him without retort. The graze along his nape left him feeling poisoned, violated.
"I've been watching you." Petting the sleek curve of the tensai's neck, the smirking youth continued, "more than you could possible know. I know more facts about your life than you probably know yourself."
He paused expectedly, taking Fuji's silence as an invitation to go on.
"It's addicting, you know, always watching the same person. Always taking notes on you, always processing data on you, always thinking about you. You'd think I'd grow bored of it, and yet, you always manage to keep me entertained."
He leaned down, his hands firmly gripping the tensai's shoulders as he closed in. Fuji caught of wiff of mints and felt the warmth of exhaled breath on the back of his neck as Mizuki whispered into his ear, "Whenever I wasn't watching you, life was slow, surreal, and felt rather pointless."
He drew his index along the rim of his captive's earlobe, admiring the curve and feel of soft skin. "I've grown to need you, Syuusuke. I've grown to want you."
The chains rattled, their sound echoing in time with the beating of Fuji's heart. Mizuki's voice was soft and blaring at the same time.
"My desire can no longer be denied."
End chapter 8
A/N: Thank you soooo much for all your reviews! Every time I got a review, I was inspired to write and work on this chapter, and now finally it's done! WOHOO! I can't believe how far this story's gone. Keep reviewing onegai!
There's only 2 chapters (plus an epilogue) left! XD