Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Veil Over My Eyes ❯ Cartes du Jour de SOUL ( Chapter 12 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Tennis no Oujisama or its characters or Oxford. This is not done for profit or monetary gain, original characters and plot though are mine. Please ask permission if you would like to use them.
Warning: Some cursing.Please do not proceed if you do not know what yaoi/shounen ai is. You will be mentally scarred if you don't. Flame and hate mail will be ignored. There will be some FujiOC in this story but this is ultimately a TezuFu fanfic.

A/N:
1) Fuji mentions Nigitama wherein Sanada later mentions Aritama and Yukimura mentions Sachitama and Kushimitama.

In shinto a god has four faces. To put it simply: Aritama is the face of the angered god. Nigitama is the face of the peacful god. Sachitama is the face that blesses and Kushimitama is the face that grants miracles. An aritama can turn into a nigitama if he is worshipped enough. Interestingly this belief is said to apply to humans as well.

2) Cartes du Jour de SOUL - Today's Menu of the SOUL

3) I borrowed a poem from Ise Monogatari which I met originally in the anime Amatsuki. The translations I used were Ureshii's.

4) FF dot net keeps on uploading a line from the previous chapter (Fuji believed in the elegance of personal ceremonies). I have fixed that but if you find any more that seem out of place please leave me a note. I am sorry for the confusion it may have caused.

Again, a big thank you to monster1 who is always there for my technical support and never unavailable for any emotional support.

Thanks also go to my sister who does not only act as a muse but also a punching bag :p

And to Vierblith and fayeiii who were unexpected but extremely great friends

Thank you to all those who take the time to read this especially:
(FF dot net) Vierblith, maldita08 & faithlane
(LJ) jingy5
(MM dot org) theaprilbaby

For everyone who reviewed, and for a love of mine that has died bitterly in my heart I give you chapter 12.

---

Veil Over My Eyes: Chapter 12
Cartes du Jour de SOULYukimura fell in love with cakes, its science and its art after his operation. He took some extracurricular lessons on baking and invested most of his free time in it, apart from school work and tennis. It wasn't so much because of the sugary sweetness that he longed for but more because of the odd comfort the various pastries gave him.

Back in his GBS days, the only sure thing was the near daily cake. Admittedly he almost never got a piece partly since Marui ate the entire well-wishing present before anyone had sense to stop him but mostly because he wasn't allowed even a morsel of unregulated food anyway. Not that anyone outside of Sanada knew.

His parents voiced their concern the first time they saw an empty box of Mont St. Clair in the trash bin. Tetchy to the very end, they were, and Yukimura, prideful in his own right, demeaned himself to explain that he was using it as a last connection with his friends, to express that he was tired not just physically but emotionally as well. He cried the first time since his diagnosis. They never questioned the increasing numbers of souvenirs again.

There was a period in his life he would have considered baking a weak profession. It still made him halt in the middle of a fold or a beat at times. However he couldn't imagine doing anything else other than finishing a pastry wonderfully, most especially his favorite type: strawberry torte.

At present, his days off from the café he apprenticed at were spent only on three things: playing tennis, visiting his favorite café the other side of town and conveying discreetly his appreciation for his family. This family he defined as every person he took under his wing and every person who took him under theirs as well. Sanada took a very large part of that last fraction of a third.

He was glad today was his day off; else he wouldn't be able to observe and assist in the planned meetings for today. Sooner or later Sanada would find him here at his favorite spot, closest to the window, farthest to the door. The other man would demand he explain in fewer words than expected; and he, on the other hand, would answer with more words than needed. He would continue nibbling off the cake he’d decided to sample today and drain completely his own concoction of coffee, green tea and butterscotch.

The bells chimed when the disturbed wind had thwapped against its windbreaker tag as the door opened. The café personnel knew them both well enough to point Sanada to Yukimura's seat, and Sanada knew well enough that he didn't bother to look at the directing hand. Yukimura took a calculated sip from his drink to gauge Sanada's mood. It was neither angry nor disturbed, simply confused. Addressing his friend without the surprise he claimed to receive, he put down the beautiful porcelain cup and turned it a quarter to the left. He set aside his thermos and book, flipped the fork to rest on the small plate and folded his hands on the table as a measure of patience. "Genichirou, what a surprise."

With all the signs of a pleasant invitation, Sanada took off his cap and sat on the unoccupied chair across Yukimura. "Seiichi, would you be aware of Fuji Shuusuke's... advances on Akaya?"

The significant pause was, for Yukimura, a telling sign. Sanada had read the invitation enclosed in the pink envelope with hearts and tied with a lacy ribbon. Although Yukimura had only called his list of Every Player Who Hurt Fuji, Friends and Family, he gave special notice to his flatmate by overdoing the ornate pink girly designs and slipping it onto the larger man's breast pocket. Drinking unhurriedly and deliberately, he savored this slow moment with every sweet drop. "Advances? No. Friendly meetings, maybe."

Sanada growled, prompting Yukimura to return the cup to the quarter to the left position. Yukimura's right hand reached out for Sanada's left. Laughter remained twinkling in his eyes. Brushing his fingers over the hard knuckles he wove them with his. "Oh come off it, Genichirou, he's perfectly harmless."

"As harmless as you?" Sanada raised an eyebrow, amused at the loosely defined term. He was clearly remembering the times he and Fuji worked in tandem. They would cause enough havoc and confusion that had Yagyuu and Niou a run for their money.

With no chance of making Sanada forget that little factoid, Yukimura acquiesced. "Fine, maybe not so harmless but still not a threat." This seemed to be an acceptable explanation. The smile on Sanada's lips told Yukimura the man wouldn't be apprehensive with Fuji's presence anymore.

Unexpectedly, Sanada removed his hand from the comforting hold, took the porcelain cup and sipped from where the other had sipped. "Too much sugar."

"You like it anyway." Yukimura teased knowingly, taking the cup for a refill and drinking his own share. "Tell me how things fare later."

Sanada's facial expressions had always been simple to understand if you took time to notice them. He was no poker face and quite frankly he would lose at the game frequently enough if the people he played with weren't scared of his imperious personality. He frowned when he was annoyed, scowled when he was displeased, glowered when he was angry. He smiled when he was glad, laughed when he was happy and grinned when he was mischievous. He never could reign them in no matter how serious a person he had become. This slight frown now marring his face indicated his displeasure at the breach of confidentiality he was being asked to make. So Sanada asked testily, "What's for dinner?"

Of course, Yukimura knew best how to appease him. This would be just one of the many secrets that would die between them. Much like how Sanada was handsome beaming, how Sanada loved to sing, and how Yukimura, in turn, looked hideous with a snarl, how utterly horrible Yukimura was at anything not needing two left feet. Sanada needed to know that, and Yukimura would tell him. "Yosenabe with a special helping of nameko".

They spent the rest of the morning in small talk as they would on the narrow balcony of their apartment. Sanada reminded him that they needed to choose their bed soon or they'd end up pushing the issue till they slept on the floor with thinned futons forever, and Yukimura reminded him that they needed to visit the closest hardware store or else they'd freeze tonight now that their heater finally broke down. As an afterthought, Yukimura instructed Sanada to keep Kirihara on a tight leash and Sanada's misgivings on an even tighter one.

"See you tonight then." Sanada stood to leave, and in another unprecedented move, kissed him on the forehead. Finally alone, Yukimura wondered aloud if that meant Sanada also expected him to tell what Fuji made him swear secrecy to. Taking a bite of his abandoned cake, he realized it did.

---

It was still too early in the day for bars to be open, nevertheless Atobe paced in front of the heavy wooden door of one of the many stores found in Ginza. It was even too early for the appointment he'd scheduled with Fuji. He didn't know why he was avoiding people. He was avoiding his father, his mother, his in-name-only fiancée, his best friends...his best friend. Simultaneously, he screamed in frustration, and his phone rang. Slumping his shoulders, he gave up his useless pacing. "Yuushi. What is it?"

"Your lovely fiancée has been looking for you all day long and has chosen to pester me, of all people, about your whereabouts."

Obviously the man didn't like beating around the bush. A knot formed on Atobe's brow and he sighed. "Never mind her. You wouldn't have called me because of that." Rubbing his temples, he moved to enter Poison Ecstasy. As an afterthought, he shook his head at the name.

"Oh yes I would. I actually have since it involves the invasion of my personal time and personal space. What do you call this conversation then?" One of the more senior bartenders was manning the station but apparently neither the Master nor his friend was there. The nameless man informed him that it was still hours away from opening night. Only when waved to wait a minute did a look of recognition dawned on the man currently in charge. Calling for "Perfect", the bartender disappeared to the back of the store.

"Are you in a bar, Keigo? This time of day? It's barely even past lunch. Too early to get laid, you know." teased Oshitari which Atobe rightfully ignored. His friend didn't have the privilege to question his hobbies when he had caught him in more compromising situations than going to a bar in broad daylight. There had been an option of doing this later in the evening but he didn't know of the plans that the place had for the occasion. It was good thinking to have pushed through with this meeting early on in the day, else he would have to deal with an acute case of anthropophobia. An escalation of what he already had with his present relations of sorts. Nevertheless, the eve of January 1 was a good night for opening night. There should have been three others to greet him any other day but with the amount of work, he could only begin to imagine, and with the small amount of time they had left, a skeleton greeting was understandable. Taking the absurdly expensive seat and the ridiculously overpriced nuts, he prodded on. "Then, what else?"

"I got you tickets to a film viewing next week. You’d better attend."

Atobe raised his brow at that. "Oh? I'd better?" Impudent bastard, Oshitari was. He had a thing or two to say on what he'd better do. Making Oshitari beg was one; making Tezuka wake up was another. Participation in the beginnings of a matchmaking scheme was not one of them.

"Yes. You'd better. Together with Michie." As Oshitari rambled on, he looked at the collection of wine and focused on anything else but the conversation. The dark wood on the bar felt warm to his hands, and embarrassingly he had a sudden urge to shed tears. "I left it with the lobby clerk, Maya-san was it? And really, both you and Tezuka should stop being mean to her. She whined to me all 10 minutes of my stay there. She's a nice woman that you don't give enough credit to."

"She's a sub - "

"Idiot! Know your employees better. That's why your father-"

Losing patience with his friend, Atobe cut him off. "Are you done lecturing me?"

"Film showing."

He looked up as if in thought. He was glad he went through with this appointment. Else he would have had to face Oshitari earlier. It wasn't like he was avoiding him purposefully. It just turned out like that. God knows how many times Oshitari tried to catch him in his office as soon his engagement was announced. God knows how happy Oshitari was for him. Even if it was a name-only contract, this was genuine happiness for him. So why was he having trouble accepting it? "Will you be there?"

"What do you think?" The smirk on the other man's face was evident through the phone. Atobe bit back a sigh. There wasn't much else he could do but to agree in the first place. He owed his friend that much. The run around had already gone on for far too long. With that, they bid their good byes. Acknowledging but not looking at the bartender in front of him, he requested a drink "Can I get a Screwdriver while I wait?"

"Certainly. You look like you need a good drink. It's on me."

Realizing his mistake, he laughed. "No need, Mr. Perfect. I'm sorry for ignoring you for such a long time. Were you surprised when I called for a reservation?"

Mr. Perfect nodded with his back to Atobe, unusual in the practice but the businessman didn't mind. The standard long sleeves and vest of the bar was somewhat bland but it complimented the feel of the place. The uniform fit Perfect nicely as the largely black suit highlighted the towhead and hid his bandages. The dark ambience and still silence of the yet to be inaugurated bar was soothing for his irritated nerves. Vaguely, he heard ice being picked at and let chipping sounds lull him to a daze.

The completion of his drink broke his reverie. The glass was inspected apprehensively. It wasn't anything like the Screwdriver at all. There were ice cubes and a dark brown liquid but it was nothing suspicious. It didn't seem copious but he had to wonder whether he should bop the other on the head for the blunder on his order or call him on the Master. He looked up at the other man in askance.

The cheeky man only advised, "Drink up before the ice melts. You'll be surprised but I'm sure that will taste infinitely better. Oh and don't bother thinking about Master. He's not here today."

Accepting the explanation, or lack thereof, he savored the smell of the flavors for a moment. "He's not in? Hmm and I was about to complain about the name change of this place. Bring 'em Young was the better choice. Stumble In was slightly better" He was laughed at but they both knew he was just being childish. It would have been a catchy name for the naughty lot but not the type of customers the bar was targeting for. "Come to think of it, were you the one who chose the name?"

"Yes and I'm sure you'd be happy to know Stumble In got second place, Bring 'em Young didn't even rank."

Atobe scoffed, and the bartender smirked. Finally taking a sip of his drink, Atobe found that his friend was right. This drink was the better choice. The alcohol was definitely diluted but the taste was definitely strong despite that. It felt silky against his tongue and not watery at all. It was powerful and light at the same time. There was also a certain sweetness that complimented the drink in as so much that it did not upset his stomach. Startling him out of his amazement, his friend asked him, "Then? Did you like the Mizuwari?"

"A-ah. You lie. You must've gotten insanely better if you can make a good Mizuwari like this."

"Tis' the truth, Mr. High-and-Mighty! Maybe because you haven't tasted it before. It suits you - the hardest ice for the perfect strength. Things like these taste better when you're as stressed as yourself too." Atobe hummed an agreement as he downed the rest. Without realizing it, he was already asking for seconds.

The door croaked open and a familiar face and voice came sailing in. "You’d better not drink too much, Atobe. It's just sweet poison after all."

Perfect laughed at Fuji's use of words. "Fuji-san? Welcome. Choose your poison then. It's on Atobe." He set off to work on Atobe's second glass of Mizuwari.

Fuji whistled at the Atobe's choice of bar. The big wooden door was certainly imposing and the nameplate was so small it was not difficult to miss. Despite such a barring feel, the inside was pretty homey with the rich wood and reds filling the place. He imagined the low and dim lights would give an illusion of privacy for each booth despite their not being on. Carefully, he sidled up to Atobe, his friend and as of a few days ago, his new boss. "You have great timing as usual." Atobe noted with distaste. Whether he was annoyed because of the aforementioned great timing or that his second glass was taking long, Fuji couldn't say but laughed at it all the same.

"It's part of the Fuji trait." Folding his coat on the stool beside him, he slapped his cheeks awake. The action was so spontaneous and unexpected that the two other men stared in almost disbelief. Atobe almost let go of his glass. "Master! Give me something strong. These days have been so depressing that I would rather drown in them now." Fuji said as much in a sing-song voice as if just to oppose his statement.

"Get him a Margarita, Perfect." In mid-drink, Atobe gave him a meaningful look which was not lost to the bartender but was missed entirely by the exasperated third party.

"I must really question your taste, Atobe." Seeing nothing wrong with a Margarita, Atobe ignored Fuji and his complaints against cocktails. The list Fuji was religiously reciting for his preferred drink was making it glaringly obvious he went for high balls.

Apologetic, Perfect dressed the rim of Fuji's goblet with salt. From what he knew of Atobe as his regular customer for the past 2 or so years, the man never chose for another person even if he was the one paying. "Sorry Fuji-san. He might run away and I'll have to fit you with his large tab if he does." Atobe choked on his drink, indignant at the reference to his once having lost his money on the way here. Fishing out a couple of 5,000 yen bill he slapped them on the counter as if to say, yes I do have money, bastard, and continued drinking his glass. "Besides, it is a good choice." Perfect finished with a smile. He readjusted the bandages on his left arm and prepared the drink with flourish.

"Yes exactly. I'm paying. And it is a great choice. For you anyway, if I do say so myself. So what is it that your friends are running amok and doing for you?"

Fuji put up his arms in mock surrender. "You hurt me Atobe. You hurt me here." Pointing to his heart and tapping at his chest several times, he gave his drinking date a pout. "Aren't you my friend? Do you consider me a nuisance? Maybe I am. I've suddenly applied at your company. A no name with a lack-luster history. The woes of a poor and new businessman like me."

"If I may, Fuji-san," Perfect cut in as he finished shaking the cocktail, "You never seemed poor to me." He'd done so many margaritas since his time with the bar that he could almost pin this one as indeed fitting for his name. Adding a garnish for the finishing touche, he served Atobe's choice with pride. "Aah, ecstasy...Your Margarita."

In a huff, Fuji stood and took his drink without much ceremony for it. "That's not the point, Master! In any case, I am now considering all things said and done. Or I was, ever since some time ago. Don't ask the details. It's too complicated please. So, bocchama, where is he?"

"In front of you, Fool. Don't you recognize the man who beat you in an official match?"

Still standing, Fuji stared closely at Shiraishi's face. The subject of attention was indeed becoming fidgety with the intense look of his newly arrived, over-reacting, forgetful customer but he couldn't move otherwise. An understanding look seemed to spread joy on said customer's face when he had all but shouted subject's name at him. "SHIRAISHI!"

A drop of sweat trickled down Shiraishi's face and he couldn't help but pair it with his own weak laughter. "Ahah, yes, and I'm not this bar's master." Recovering quickly from the slight shock and confusion he further explained his position. "In fact, I'm a rookie. I've only begun serving customers for the past two years but have been studying way back when I was still in Osaka. Atobe has kindly taken up to be my personal guinea pig in case I have new concoctions, which are few and far in between, by the way. How have you been?"

At the question, Fuji all but smacked his head on the counter as he yammered on. "Terrible. Terrible! I tell you. I really want to get drunk. To top the week off, I wake in the arms of a terribly stiff man and to the face of a grave old man, who in all probability, hates my guts." Finishing off his first Margarita, he sobered a bit. He leaned back to stared at the lone lit chandelier in the room. Softly, he whispered, "It really has been a terrible week, and I was so happy before it too..."

Neither Shiraishi nor Atobe really understood what was going on. Atobe hadn't put much thought on Saeki suddenly reminding him it would be nice to visit Shiraishi's refurbished work place before opening night. It wasn't unusual for him to randomly call the businessman. Atobe was, after all, the one who kept the best contact with everyone. What, with his position, having a great many connections would be beneficial. It was always a good investment to have more than most. Although it may have been too much of a coincidence that Fuji suddenly asked him a date on the phone the night prior.

Straightening up, Fuji answered what he would of their unsaid questions. "I'm supposed to be stuck in bed for a few more days but no one can really ever stop me once I set my mind to it. I'm also not about to spend the remaining days of my work free life being babied."

The word 'baby' reminded Atobe of Michie immediately. The woman had a bright idea saying they should get married immediately and have babies. What self appreciating, healthy man would do that? Of course to Michie's eyes, he was a self-appreciating, sick man. No, change that, dying man. While the omiai was generally a disaster with the Suzuki mother forever hating him, he acquired a permanent fixture on his arm. One who was out for his well being. He and Tezuka had both expected as much. At least with the permanent fixture, he would get some marriage-related worry-free time. His parents would be happy he had a fiancée of good background, and Michie would not expect anything of him. But no, she had to go and suggest that. What was it with women and self-sacrifice? Then again, that bastard Tezuka outdid anyone in that department. Feeling a tick forming on his brow, he downed his half finished glass and gestured for a third. "I'm the one who wants to be babied."

Atobe's drinking partner sniggered, waving his empty glass at the man's face. "Shall I ask Suzuki-san to cuddle up to you then?"

Snatching the offending piece being unceremoniously brandished at him, Atobe growled at Fuji, "Are you daft? Or perhaps you're already drunk before you even came here. Snap out of it, man. It's only a little past twelve."

Put out, Fuji ordered another drink. "Tsk. You're the one who suggested a bar."

"Someone hinted that I should relax with a reliable old friend."

The words old friend seemed to flick a light switch on Fuji. A furtive smile crept slowly across Fuji's face and with that, the overreacting Fuji came back. "Aww Keigo-chan, I'm touched."

"I wasn't referring to you."

Intending to abate the worst, Shiraishi put to words his genuine surprise. "I'm honored but why aren't you with Kabaji or Oshitari?" Shiraishi was in fact having reservations on serving both customers another glass. Instead he offered them water until there were no explicit orders for the second or third glass. Whether it was their depression or their really weak constitution, it didn't look like they should be anywhere near another pint of alcohol for the following minutes...nay hours. "Would they have time for me? No. They never do, recently, come to think of it. Aside from Tezuka you're the only tennis pal I've been meeting as frequently. Shiraishi, I will never forget you for life. Now, give me another Mizuwari."

"Mou, same here, Shiraishi."

Shiraishi had many a time faced customers like this. It was part of his job as a bartender, to listen to the stories of any person old or young, but he was coming to realize that one pushy old friend he could handle. Two was a little overwhelming. "Maa, maa, aren't both of you seemingly a bit weak with your liquor today?"

"NO!" The synchronized scream seemed to wake both up and embarrassed them enough to make them red in the face. Fuji buried his head in his arms on the table not looking at the two other men, and Atobe looked at anywhere and everywhere except his two companions. Shiraishi thought of threatening them with poisoned claws but dismissed the thought as silly in this day and age. Besides, his bandages had more purpose than that. Atobe was the first who pulled away from the conversation. "I'll go wash up a bit."

With Atobe gone, Fuji tested his limits. Not raising his head from his makeshift shield, he tried a go at it. "How about that strong drink?"

"Is that wise, Fuji-san?" Shiraishi offered the glass of water again and it was gone in one swig.

"No, probably not." Burrowing even deeper into his own arms, Fuji murmured. "Ne, Shiraishi, what were you like? To me?"

It was the last thing he'd think the Tensai would ask. Shiraishi crossed and uncrossed his arms. What indeed was the Bible of Shittenhouji to Fuji Syuusuke? "At least number ten in your most hated people list, and if it's not boasting, a little respected by you too."

Tentatively, Fuji egged him on. Not once did he break the surprisingly effective cover on his head. With difficulty, Shiraishi thought of the best way to put it tactfully but ended up short. "I did beat you once, didn't I? I could still try beating you, but I don't think I'd win. I'd like to think I will."

Then all pretenses were dropped. Fuji sat straight, his eyes glazing over something Shiraishi couldn't see. "I haven't played since I left Japan. I mean I don't feel like I have. Somehow, everything I've worked for, everything I've tried at just… everything is so meaningless."

Being a former captain caused one to be many things. As a former captain, patience was what Shiraishi valued most. Being a bartender caused one to be more. As a bartender, he could be the unexpected friend. To anyone who walked through those doors, it was his duty to make sure an understanding ear was not just what he got but a warm place to come back to. Fuji's feelings would reach him on its own if he looked, listened and thought about everything the man has shared thus far. Finding the soul's menu was after all the mark of quality service. Suddenly, Atobe's choice made complete sense. "The Margarita…do you know of it? It was made by a man in honor of his dead lover, Margarita. It was found out only until much, much later. He probably couldn't let go of her so a few years later, Margarita, the cocktail was born."

There was a pregnant pause for both of them. Fuji's eyes glazed over that thought then disappeared from the public's general view. "I don't have a dead lover. He is, in fact, running amok in his wild fantasies-" In retrospect, the smile on Shiraishi's face was probably patronizing, but he couldn't help himself when Fuji, of all people, had obtusely refused to see the point. "Think on it. Atobe was right to choose the Margarita for you. I fail to see why I didn't think of it myself."

"Of course. Ore-sama has superb taste. How about three Old Pals for us, then we'll call it a day, shall we Genius, Perfect?"

Shiraishi laughed at the overbearing businessman. One thing to say about Atobe and his drinks was it never went without ample meaning. Especially on reserved occasions such as this. "Fine, King."

"No, Shiraishi. You missed Monkey." Fuji grinned when Atobe tried to tackle him and missed.

---

"Oi, Fuji, that was one Old Pal too much. I'm never taking you out drinking again. Especially with Kirihara. Do you hear me?" Sanada lugged his charge across the street. It embarrassing but they didn't even have enough money to hail a taxi. Kirihara weaseled money out off him bit by bit that he didn't even notice almost all of it was gone. "FUJI! Get a hold of yourself."

"Ah but San-, San-chan, SANTA! You're SANTA!" Fuji giggled repeating the cruel dismemberment of Sanada's name.

"Sa-Na-DA."

"Sa-Na-TA"

"I give up. Yes I'm Santa. Yes. Move your legs will you? You're heavier than you look." Sanada sighed and cursed Kirihara for being in a similar state. At least Yukimura had seen to the safety of one brat. He trudged along until they reached the café Kikumaru had specified over the phone. Dropping the giggling mass, he slumped against the opposite chair. It was barely even six and he had to handle not one but two drunks. He'd have to deal with the other one when he got home later too.

Fuji instinctively curled up against himself and hid his face. "Ne, Santa I still don't have my present. I've been a gooooooood boy."

Frowning at the husky voice Fuji was using, Sanada answered brusquely. "No. You have not." Whether that was pent up frustration or complete ignorance, he didn't want to find out. "Give me your phone again, Fuji." For all the other man's insolence, he was rather obedient when it came to direct orders. "Kikumaru. Where are you now?"

"Stuck in traffic. I'll be there. You'll be back with Yukimura so hold your horses." The line was dead in seconds, and Sanada didn't even have time to reprimand the red-headed reporter.

Throwing a sideways glance at Fuji, he shook his head. "You lot are trouble as usual. What's up with you anyway?" When Fuji didn't even answer with something unintelligible, Sanada gave him his full attention. The man was shivering from the cold. "Fuji, where's your coat?" Fuji opened his mouth to answer but bit it just as quickly. Sanada wanted to hit himself twice over. He had been drunk enough not to noticed it was left behind. "Come on Fuji, let's go in and warm you up."

Fuji reached out for Sanada's arm, stood and fell back. "Too cold."

Roughly, Sanada took off his own coat and wrapped Fuji in it. "This is unacceptable. One more time." Fuji snuggled fairly a bit into the newfound warmth then tried as Sanada ordered him to. Failing a few more times and accomplishing in getting Sanada more annoyed than angry, Fuji finally found some strength to stay up. Accomplishing that one feat, they concentrated on moving one foot forward next. Safely inside the shop, Sanada order them both brewed coffee.

"First the prince, then the king, now the emperor. How lucky."

Helping the currently invalid man drink his share, Sanada frowned at the undignified use of their old nicknames. He realized it wasn't for lack of trying to call him anything else. Fuji was stuck - stuck in a time that he didn't belong in anymore. Fuji hiccupped the last drink and commented, "You're surprisingly caring despite the gruff look, Santa. You remind me of...hmm...god maybe?"

"Then your definition of god is very shallow. Can you handle finishing this on your own?"

Testing the grip of his hands and finding them able, Fuji nodded. "Not shallow. I just told you, you remind me of him." A stubborn line formed on Fuji's face as he came to terms with his beverage, that it was not alcohol and that it was indeed bitter. "But if you were, it would be through Yukimura that you've changed to a nigitama."

Taking the seat across Fuji, Sanada stared blankly at him as the man returned to his fetal position. He felt faintly insulted by the backhanded compliment. If he followed Fuji's thinking, he wouldn't pretend to like going along with a parallel description so close to reality. A picture of Yukimura worshipping him day and night formed itself, and he blamed his lack of self-control again. In the first place, he was not a violent god turned guardian-protector. He wasn't even anything remotely wild. Under his breath, he countered, "If anyone's like an aritama, that's Seiichi, not me."

"Yes, that's true." Sanada blinked. The voice didn't sound exactly like Fuji but it could have passed for it since there was no one else that could have heard him. His kendo training was telling him blood thirst was being directed towards him but that, in itself, made him unable to move. It was after all clearly impossible for Yukimura to have come after him with his own charge to look after. Their apartment was still a long way ahead, Kirihara's even farther, considering the traffic they'd have to muck through this time of year.

It was too late when he realized Fuji was smiling a little too happily on the sofa across him. "Yuki-chan, okaeri!"

"Konbanwa, Sachitama-san. You're a blessing to my blind eyes." Yukimura passed Sanada to pat Fuji's head. His hand lingered for a while longer as if to check for a fever but he failed to share his findings.

"Se-Seiichi. What're you doing here?"

"You're welcome." Yukimura muttered without looking at him. Carefully he peeled Sanada's coat off of Fuji and replaced it with a jacket, Fuji's own.

"Sei-"

"A-Ri-Ta-Ma"

Sanada winced at the name and intended to lead the conversation away from going down under. "Kirihara?"

"I left him sober in the taxi. Don't worry. He'll still be staying over as planned." Yukimura hopped over to Fuji's left and said nothing for awhile until Sanada came up with a face looking like it’s lost to constipation. "Oh come off it, I'm not angry. Annoyed just by a bit. Of course I'm not so naïve that I don't know jerks do exist, Nigi-san. How'd everything go?"

Sanada's eyebrows flew, and he choked through his cup. At the very least, Yukimura was in a talking mood. "Well, as you can see, they had a good time."

"They. Not we, I see. How was Fuji?"

Sanada's near empty cup almost slipped from his hands. There was this great interest in Fuji that he couldn't understand. Yukimura looked after the man as if he were a big brother of sorts. Sanada recalled seeing that look on Yukimura back when the club was only beginning, back when he'd pledged to keep the club under his wings. It had been such a long time that he'd nearly forgotten it. The many sides of god apparently applied to humans as well. "He was same as always. He kept on annoying Kirihara to turn red. A bit on the drunk side maybe."

"A bit is pushing it. He's out like a light."

"Seiichi?"

"Genichirou."

He carefully measured the amount of liquid in his cup and pushed it across the table as a peace offering to Yukimura. The blue haired man took it gratefully, and they transferred their attention again to the sleeping man beside him. "Maybe, just maybe, you're forgetting that we're neither aritama nor nigitama at all."

"Genichirou, you forget I'm the child of God." Yukimura laughed, and Fuji struggled into wakefulness. "I know. I just want him to see sometime a kushimitama."

"Doesn't he believe?"

"To see and to believe are different. I wanted to see one for myself, a miracle that is. He needs one as much as I did. More perhaps." Sanada didn't dare ask for a better explanation. Yukimura would give it in his own time. They promised on it, and he had every intention of keeping it. If it was a secret Yukimura wanted to tell but could not, he would wait until the blue haired man was ready. That time would come. Presently, it was time for Fuji to wake up and go home.

They spotted a taxi gearing to a stop in front. A red head soon made way to get in the café. "Sanada, Yukimura!" Both addressed greeted the reporter with a nod. Yukimura pushed gently on Fuji's shoulder as did Kikumaru. Fuji's first words when he came to were: "Hora, Atobe, I was right."

---

Inishie no shizu no odamaki kurikaeshi mukashi o ima ni nasu yoshi mo ga na If there were anyway to restore the old relationship I had with you... Blue. Everything was blue. No wind. No sun. No grass. It's all Blue. Too cold and lonely that it hurts His voice calls out to me. It is the only thing I hear.

---

It had been approximately an hour later when they each found their own homes and beds, and much later for Kikumaru, who had in fact given Fuji a reason, separate from his hangover, for his mind splitting head ache. Upon coming home, he wordlessly got a bag of clothes and locked himself in the bathroom for a little over an hour. Several instances, there were people knocking on the door. First, it was Yoshiko, calling her eldest son to dinner. Second, it was Yumiko for the same reason. Third, it was Leon, suggesting they take a walk. Fourth was Yuuta, asking about his general welfare. His head had cleared enough that he was able to muster a response to his younger brother's voice.

He regretted going on several drinking parties in one day. A larger part of that regret was that he couldn't hold everything at the end of the day. It was a bad season to go off on several spontaneous reunions. Everyone associated it with beer and booze when the New Year's was coming about. Of course he was thankful that Yukimura had the foresight to have the ever responsible Sanada with him last. He'd also have to thank Inui for helping him not make a fool of himself. The small notebook on everyone had been immensely useful. He felt a little cheated from the results though. If anything jogged his memory, it was Sanada's stick in the mud reaction and Atobe's familiarity. Otherwise everything just seemed irrelevant. Making a mental list of whom he had to call first thing in the morning, Fuji left for the hospital.

The hospital was just ahead when his phone had beeped an alarm. The message read: Shuu where the hell are you? Don't stay out for New Year's.

Mindful to reply to it later, he turned the phone off and pocketed it. A little guilty for not even greeting Leon earlier, he steeled his mind for one. It probably was high time he let go of his grudge against him. Maybe if he listened, he'd finally hear what the man had to say. Maybe. When he had arrived in Tezuka's room, he was surprised, to say the least, to find an empty room and more so, an empty bed.

Walking, almost running, up to the nurses' station, he frantically caught their attention. "Excuse me! Where did the patient in room 3N9 go? Did something happen? Did he wake up? Did his family take him somewhere else?" He didn't realize it but his voice was getting louder and louder by the second. Fear encroached on him He feared the police were moving too slow. He feared he had been stupid in his decisions thus far. He feared he wouldn't be able to see Tezuka again.

Suddenly he was grabbed from behind and was shook hard. "Fuji, keep calm! You're disturbing the other patients."

There was a severity in Sengoku's voice that he couldn't disobey but he kept the firm line on his lips. Drawing a deep breath, he kept his voice down and removed himself from the nurse's vice grip. "Where. Is. Tezuka?"

Sengoku took hold of Fuji's hand and dragged him off in front of a waiting room. Fuji wondered if he should by now throw more of a hissy fit. A run around was not something he wanted to go through with. When Sengoku finally turned to talk to him, he couldn't believe his ears "WHAT!? What do you mean surgery?"

"He flatlined for 30 seconds but we revived him successfully. The doctors think there might be a clot formation in his brain. It won't take long so calm down. He'll be fine. Sit." Sengoku patted the other man's head, and Fuji obligingly sat down as his energy was drained from him. They stayed there in silence for a few minutes until Fuji spoke. It had been so soft Sengoku almost thought he was hearing things. "Come again?" Kneeling in front of Fuji, Sengoku peered up at his friend and found tearful eyes.

"His things are gone." Fuji spoke louder. Not knowing what else to do, he clenched and unclenched his fist. By the third or fourth time a handkerchief was pressed to his open palm. He used it without complaint or reservations.

"Someone signed a transfer. He's being transferred to a different hospital."

Fuji's vision swerved and his head snapped up. "I didn't authorize that."

"You're not direct family, Fuji." This was a conversation Sengoku feared would come sooner or later, except it wasn't under the circumstances they were experiencing. Fuji's emotions shifted from frantic to placid too quickly. Sengoku didn't know how to appease him but he did know this was an argument the Fuji he knew would never accept. It was a fight Sengoku knew he was bound to lose but it was also a fight that didn't have a solution.

"I'm the official next of kin."

Standing from his crouched position, Sengoku looked away from the wounded man. "Not the only one."

In a second, Fuji stood and Sengoku was seized on his shoulders, forced to look back at his friend and was on the receiving end of a hard shake. "Ayana-san would have called!"

"I don't know! I've been asking my superiors above too but they don't know anything. Those are things privy to the team taking care of Tezuka. I'm not exactly part of that team, Fuji. I was planning on questioning the EMT while the transfer is being made."

Fuji let go and slumped back to his seat. His hands covered his face with the right hand crumpling the white handkerchief against his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm just...tired. I'm sorry, could you leave me alone? Err...how about you go check with Ayana-san. I'll call you if and when the EMT comes."

One would think that, with the look plastered on Fuji, his friend was truly and undoubtedly dying and Fuji's soul went with him. It was because of this that Fuji did not notice many things. Like how a complete look alike of Tezuka had just passed the hall some way away from them or that several times, a guard giving them an apprehensive glare had passed the waiting room. Not too long later, the doctors came out, confirming the success of the operation.

By the time Fuji had come to from his trance, he found himself lying on the bed and clinging loosely onto Tezuka. When he thought about it, Tezuka looked only as if he were asleep. He wasn't in pain and was drifting off in peace. If he could ignore the sound of the machines and the wires attached to the other man, he could imagine them in Tezuka's own bedroom. A mountain panorama was on the same place as in the apartment with the bed position just slightly off but just the right size. As if willing for them to be whisked away, he did a staring match with the picture. Little by little, at least for him, he could believe they were home. He settled his chin on the crook of the sleeping man's neck and whispered lovingly. "Don't leave me alone, Tezuka. Leon ...is probably calling me a fool for being affected by you so but if I lie to myself and say it's nothing...I feel that I might cry.

"You have, in the span of a few weeks, given me unfading memories of hope, of friendship, but if you disappear now, it will tear my heart apart. I would still think of you. I would still chase after," Fuji paused in his confession as he felt a memory jog his mind with the words your retreating figure every time you walked to the court echoing on. He was glad and lonely at the same time. He didn't begin to understand why either. Continuing, he whispered, "I would still chase after your back." There was a lot to be said but until he could say it to Tezuka's face, he held back. "In my dreams, in reality, I will look for you. I will run to you. So come back to me." Interlacing their fingers, Fuji's right with Tezuka's left, he continued. "The enemy is within yourself. Fight this, Tezuka. I'm here with you. We all are."

He barely had time to register the knock on the door when a stranger in an orange uniform came in with a gurney and team in tow. "Ah, sorry for barging in on you like that but I'm to transfer a Mr. Tezuka. Says here on the transfer orders."

Fuji removed himself from the bed and was presented with transfer orders the emergency medical technician was referring to. The content was hardly understandable to him aside from Tezuka's biodata and picture. Catching a passing nurse by their hallway, he asked her to look for Sengoku quickly.

"Sir? Aren't you coming along?"

"Ah yes I am. Who ordered this again?" There was something about the head technician that bothered Fuji but he couldn't quite point out what it was. Something about his looks or the seriousness of the man's eyes gave him uneasy feelings. Fuji didn't find anything suspicious with the group per se but had misgivings against just letting this go without a word. The three men worked efficiently as they transferred Tezuka from the bed to the gurney. They used the bed sheets as a net of sorts. With that done, the two other EMTs proceeded with arranging the equipment and their leader turned his attention to Fuji again. "I don't know, sir, but wouldn't it be the attending physician? It's signed by an Ayana-san as well."

Sengoku came bursting into the room and filched the clipboard from Fuji before the EMT could reclaim it. "This is weird. He just transferred here, didn't he? What was the reason for the HOC?"

"Not a hospital of choice, I think. Just a referral. Dunno really. I'm just the EMT with the transfer orders." Abruptly, the clipboard was taken from Sengoku as they made way for the gurney and team to pass. "Sorry sir, we should really go A.S.A.P."

They followed the team out, side by side and talked in hushed tones. "Fuji, Tezuka's mother did sign some papers. She said she's been contacting you for some time now..."

"I did forget to give her my cellphone number." Fuji wasn't buying it and neither was Sengoku, but it did make sense if looked at from a certain perspective. Except this wasn't the standard situation, and they were actual victims of assault.

"Take care of Tezuka. As far as I'm concerned, their papers are legit." Sengoku reluctantly admitted. He ran a hand through his hair nervously and gave the three men in front of them a close calculating eye.

Fuji didn't know much of medical groups outside what he'd experienced thus far. If he had to assess them, then he'd say they were a competent team. They didn't dally behind. Their formation was purposeful and, all in al,l a great team. One monitored the screens as they walk. One took care of the physical safety and the last steered them as the two did their jobs meticulously. "Maybe there really isn't anything. Do they look funny to you?"

"No. No, they don't. In fact, they look reliable. More reliable than an orange hair-dyed nurse."

Taking his eyes off the three, Fuji punched him. "That's pushing it." The two friends stopped right before the doors to the outside, and the EMTs busied themselves again. The few seconds the doors were opened, was almost torture to the barely clad nurse. It was a cold night. The winter winds were finally kicking in full force. With nothing to note, Fuji turned to give his friend a big hug. "Thanks for everything. I'll remind you that you still have some stories to tell."

"Another time. Here." Sengoku ambled out of the spontaneous show of affection to hand him something long and thin. It was a pen. Fuji was itching to ask what it was but gulped it down out of the sheer idiocy. "A lucky pen." First meant as a joke but turned out to be a rather purposeful one for the nurse. "No, seriously. Good luck. Don't do anything stupid, alright? Mail me when you've arrived safely."

"I will, mother. I'll return it with the handkerchief once we're out of the woods." Tucking it away for safe keeping, he stepped back and checked their mode of transportation. Reminded of his cellphone, he fished it out from his coat pocket and turned it on. Immediately after, it rang. "Fuji speaking."

"Fuji? THIS IS SATO. GET OUT OF THERE. WE'LL FIND A WAY TO GET TEZUKA BACK BUT DO NOT RIDE THAT AMBULANCE."

Fuji felt his throat go dry. Why he trusted his assailant he didn't know. Maybe because the man was related to Tezuka. Maybe because he couldn't be that bad of a man if an innocent kid such as Yukio could be taken to him. Maybe it was both but in any case, he saw the world go gray in an instant as it swerved from bright colors to a dull tone. He looked for anything that might as well help his situation, faces, features, and finally an idea sparked. "I'm sorry but he --hasn't come too near, Honda-san -- We're transferring Tezuka to a different hospital. I'll be back as soon as I can. This is business that I need to finish."

"DON'T BE AN IDIOT, FUJI. THEY'LL KILL YOU. FUJI? FUJI! DON'T ACT LIKE-" Several buttons were pressed. Soon no sound was coming from the comm link. Careful to lock and not kill the line, Fuji returned the device to his breast pocket and donned his coat. Considering telling Sengoku, he took his time adjusting and readjusting his coat. He was about to but promptly decided against it when an EMT started back towards the hospital premises. He'd given a glaringly obvious clue to Sato already, and if he was correct, not everyone in that team was involved. He didn't want to pull Sengoku in all this ugly mess unnecessarily. His friend was still an innocent bystander at this point. If Sengoku did anything more, he would attract attention that couldn't be ignored.

"Who hasn't come too near?" The subject of Fuji's thoughts inquired after being ignored for more than he could stomach. Smiling sadly at his friend, Fuji shook his head. It really was nothing after all. Dark clouds overcast the sky. It wouldn't be much later that the New Year's festivities would start. He couldn't help but feel lonely at the starless night on a supposedly joyous occasion. Sengoku, on the other hand, couldn't help but think that the hunched back of Fuji as he moved across the snowed road was lonelier than any picture the heavens painted.

"Sayonara, Sengoku." Fuji whispered as his voice sailed through the strong gusts of frost. They both shivered as a severe chill passed them. It was two hours later that Tezuka and Fuji along with two other officially registered EMTs would be reported missing. End Chapter 12

---

Thoughts:
1)The first bar scene is heavily influenced by the anime Bartender. When I used it as a referrence I had already written about half of it before I stopped to think that probably half the information there wasn't real. That is why I don't think you'll find any Jack Drussler and a dead Margarita anywhere in the net no matter how I searched. So I'm sorry for taking ideas from the episode: Glass of regret. I really am.

2) Yukimura and GBS - Konomi-sensei made a mistake regarding Yukimura's disease. It is something you don't treat with surgery. He made efforts to resolve this mistake towards the end of the manga. I will probably mention Yukimura's sickness again in the future. Meanwhile I scribbled something that tried to connect the his disease with a surgery while keeping the facts the manga gave. Or at least I tried. You can find more of it in my blog but the summary of my thoughts on it would be: if it were to happen to anyone, then he'd have to be the unluckiest person in the world.

3)I just recently realized that maybe using real places maybe sorta kinda illegal. Pattisierre Mont St. Clair exists by the way. Check it out.

I'd like to say chapter 13 is going along well but it isn't even a page done. I do hope I can release within 3 mos but...I said that last time and it took a year. I will try my best so please cheer me on. I'm also very sorry this has taken oh so very long. I'd like to say egging me on would help speed it up but I doubt that. I'd still love to listen to what everyone has to say, so R&R please. I'd be fine with a hello in my email telling me you're still reading it too :)