Chapter 14: Mirror, Mirror...

AN: Do not own. I just write. I don't get paid. Please don't eat me.

"This is a rather sudden request, Syuusuke...are you sure?" Yumiko gave her brother a doubtful look. She didn't mind doing tarot readings for her brother, but this was indeed sudden. He'd pracitcally broken her door when he'd thrown it open...she was vaguely surprised it hadn't flown off it's hinges.

"Yes, please." He looked up expectantly, "I really, really want you to redo that reading."

"But...Syuu-chan..." She tried to reason with him, but noticed the determined frown and sighed, holding her hand out, "Alright...alright. Give me your hand."

At first, Fuji ran for St. Rudolph. If Tezuka tried to follow him, he could lose him in the crowds and then duck into the backstreets. He kept his focus, if just so he wouldn't end up in another situation he didn't want to be in...it felt like Monday all over again. Running from Tezuka...unsure of why he was...all he knew was he hurt. Emotionally, physically, mentally...everything hurt, and he couldn't explain it. The tensai was a firm believer in the idea that there was an answer to everything, much like Tezuka was...the fatal difference, was that Fuji relied more on his emotions and instinct for answers, as opposed to his captain's firm stance of solid information being the key to everything. The streets were sparsely crowded, but the minute he hit the central area, he had to squirm through masses of bodies. It scared him, to say the least...one wrong shove or a miscalculated step could cost him severely. Should he run into someone, they had a chance to slow him down-to stop him even. Should he fall, he would definitely have to stop, and there was the indefinite chance his body would become a visual palette for anyone who stopped to look down at him. Once he'd managed to squirm out of the crowds, he ducked down a side-street between two shops and leaned on the wall, panting heavily. He watched the masses a while; looking for the familiar dark hair...

To his delight, and disappointment, it never came. He turned and at a slower pace, began walking home...home. The word was bittersweet to him at that point. He doubted anyone was there...Yumiko had a job to attend, as did his parents. Yuuta was at school...where he should have been himself. A twinge of pain stabbed Fuji's insides like misplaced acupuncture needles. Terrified, sapphire-like, cat eyes filled his mental eye immediately. That look was burned into his mind...he'd seen the acrobat distressed before-many a time, in fact- but never like that. Tears burned at his eyes, and he forced the thoughts away, his head bowed as he darted for his house. He ignored the burning pain in his legs and lungs. He was scared. Honest to God scared...he just didn't know of what. Perhaps of going too far and hurting Kikumaru? That was indeed a reason to be scared, to feel guilty, even. As he neared his front door, the unsettling truth hit him. He was afraid of his brother. He was afraid to see that hurt, scared to death look in his brother's eyes. Afraid to face the reality that he had been the one to cause it, if it did come to that.

Biting hard on his lip, Fuji felt about the top of the door for the spare key and slowly forced the door open. Silence met him, and he wasn't sure if he should feel relief, or intimidation. With a slight, shakey breath, he slipped in, slid out of his shoes, and closed the door slowly. Despite the initial timidness he'd felt upon entering the house, the comfort and familiarity felt good. It hit him slowly, and he gladly let it wash over him as he wandered towards the stairs for his room. A slight smile tugged his lips as he entered, realizing that his poor pets had been ignored for almost four days. He hadn't gotten around to watering them Monday afternoon, before he'd run to Tezuka's house...and he seriously doubted that Yumiko or Yuuta knew how to properly care for his babies, so they would have indeed been ignored for almost the entire four days he'd been away. They all needed special attention--some, more than others. He was glad to find that none of them were dead, and dutifully set about to watering each and every one of them. As he did, he cooed to them, petting their pots lightly and generally just pampering them to make up for his lack of attention to them. Needless to say, it felt good to be back in the familiar settings of his own room...his own house. As an after thought, almost, he wandered for the bathroom, idly turning a bath on for himself. Soon he'd be back in his own clothes, too, and things really would feel normal. Maybe that was all he needed...was a fresh wave of normality after the nightmare at the beginning of the week.

Carefully, he slipped out of Tezuka's uniform. It fell off of him without much effort on his part; all he really had to do was lift the shirt over his head and wiggle about a little to make the pants fall. It amused him, for a moment...he'd often wondered what it would be like to wear his captain's clothes. He'd often seen Yumiko come home in her boyfriend's shirts after a particularly heavy storm...and had always commented, teasingly, of course, that she looked more comfortable in his clothes than her own. She would always laugh, and constantly assure him that he would understand when he got to steal away his own boyfriend's clothing. A soft laugh slipped by Fuji's lips as he thought on those words and slid into the warm bath. The first time she'd said that to him, he'd near fallen off the couch. He hadn't told anyone he had no interest in females, and the fact his sister knew was rather intimidating...especially if she'd planned on telling their parents. He doubted they would mind, but...there was something oddly pride hurting about his parents knowing. He supposed it was the paranoia that they wouldn't let him go anywhere with his friends anymore, or let them over with his door closed, which had sprouted from listening to Kikumaru's older brothers complain about having their girlfriends over and not being allowed the privacy of a shut door. ...Though, somehow, he doubted that would be the case with Tezuka.

Fuji sighed, heavily, and slid down in the water until it came just above his lips. Tezuka was the perfect son...even his own father had admitted that. The first night he'd invited Tezuka over for dinner, was somewhere in the middle of their first year...about a month or so after his injury. It had been something of an apology, and Fuji really had wanted his sister to meet him especially. It was also one of the few nights his mother and father would be home for dinner, and had been more than pleased to accomodate the visitor. Yoshiko had loved her son's friend...she'd spent the entire dinner questioning Tezuka, and fawning over him. She particularly liked the compatability between the two. Fuji didn't have to say anything to Tezuka, and Tezuka didn't have to say anything to Fuji. When one wanted something, the other would get it before they could think to ask. Fuji had noticed that quickly; his father kept stealing the wasabi to his side of the table, and whenever he was about to ask for it, Tezuka would beat him to it, and hand it to him without another word. Yuuta had been...admittedly enthralled with Tezuka at the time. It was rare for him to see his brother so calm around a person outside of their family. Even whenever Saeki, Kikumaru or Yukimura was invited over, Fuji was putting up his fox smile. Not around Tezuka though. That had made Yuuta happy-he'd said so after Tezuka had left that night. And their father...had absolutely praised Tezuka to the ends of the world. It had, initially, made Fuji feel rather...shadowed. Thinking on it, he really could sympathize with how Yuuta felt going to the same school as him. But, he hadn't minded to that degree. It made him happy that his family liked Tezuka, and afterwards, he'd attacked his sister's room, ecstatic over a new tarot now that she'd met the boy. Yumiko had admitted she would need a bit more time-something about Tezuka's attitude...he couldn't quite remember what- and that she would watch them closely from now on. That she had a good feeling about their bond...and had then, when she did have enough information, told him something...confusingly pleasant. He sighed softly, squirming about a bit and tilting his head back on the tub so he could stare at the cieling as he thought on it.

3 years earlier...

Yumiko looked down on her eldest younger brother in concern. The dinner really shouldn't have made him so jittery. It was ok, but really now...it was no different than any other time that Tezuka came over...granted she had idly mentioned, well after Tezuka had left, that she would like to try the reading again finally. It had sent her brother into a fit of what was practically squeals of delight and had caused him to latch around her waist. She cleared her throat, somewhat nervously, and put a hand to the honey brown hair, "Ano...Syuu-chan..."

He stopped his excited noises long enough to beam up at her and loosen his grip somewhat, "Hai, nee-san?"

"I...haven't done the reading yet." She pointed out warily, with a timid smile, "Should you not wait until after it to celebrate?"

"But, nee-san! You said so yourself! Tezuka-san's aura is amazing! Enough so for you to agree to redoing the reading again! You never redo readings a third time, but he's actually enough to get you to!" The boy giggled in glee, once again hugging his sister tightly, "That has to be a good thing!"

Yumiko had given him a worried look, something the ecstatic Fuji just couldn't grasp at the time, "Syuusuke...those kinds of auras are admittedly rare...but, they aren't always good things. He has a strong, bold aura. It's like yours, in a sense, in concerns to how your aura is around Yuuta. I...can't gaurantee that he actually ever will consider you anything past a friend."

"But, nee-san--"

"No...Syuusuke, let me finish." She shushed him sternly, and he listened, slowly coming down from his excited high. She continued once the azure orbs opened, looking up in all seriousness, "Tezuka-kun has an absolutely amazing aura. One that shadows all others I've seen, except yours. The two of you burn bright with passion...very bright. Trying to compare you two when you're sitting side by side, or even in the same room, is difficult on my senses. Your auras fight for dominance. His is a passion to win. To be the best. Yours is loyalty. To protect everyone around you. Are you following me?"

"Hai, nee-san."

"Paraphrase." He blinked, and she repeated the command. She was intent on making sure this got through to him at all costs.

"Our auras...are our personalities. They..." He trailed off as it started to slightly sink in, "...They...fight for dominance...we're in a sort of power struggle." He paused, as she nodded, and frowned, "But...reaching the top is nothing without someone to support you...Tezuka-san's very...team oriented...he wants all of us to reach Nationals together...so...wouldn't he need the loyalty and support...?"

"Good." Yumiko smiled, and Fuji blinked. She'd been testing him...him, of all people! He nodded slowly all the same, confused as to where she was going with the conversation, and allowed her to continue, "Now. That being said, I'd also like to point out that he's not your only friend like that. Yukimura-kun is the same. Very determined to be the best...should you have to choose between them--"

"Tezuka." He answered without waiting, frowning at her doubt. He and Yukimura were close friends...but by the time they met in tennis matches...it would have been at least a year, perhaps two. He would have spent about four times as much time with Tezuka as Yukimura, no matter how close they were. Even Saeki was already seeing him less, granted that had more to do with where they lived... That, and, despite how hard he tried to deny it, there was something about Tezuka that made him want to protect the captain more than everyone else. He wanted to be the one standing at his left-as he already knew Oishi would most definitely be on his right- when they accepted the championship trophy.

His sister's sigh brought him back to the present time and he looked back up, determined frown still etched across his face, "Syuusuke...I just don't want you depending solely on this. You know fortune readings require work from human effort."

"Aa."

"...Very well. Give me your hand. I'm not telling you anything tonight, though." She warned and, before he could protest, finished with, "I'll do the tarot reading after you've gone to bed, and I'll tell you in the morning."

Holding in a sigh of rejection, Fuji slowly held out his hand. If he tried to argue, chances were, she wouldn't do the reading at all. He kept still, best he could, but found that doing so soon had him laying on the table, fast asleep, while his sister slowly continued tracing the lines on his hands.

He wasn't entirely sure when he was put in bed, but he did remember waking up in his own room, glaring deathly hate as the alarm clock went off. With a slight mumble of annoyance, he'd shut it off and went about his morning routine. As he pulled on his school uniform, a timid knock came to his door, and he called back 'It's open!' without turning. Yumiko slid in and gave a soft cough to get his attention and he turned, slightly wary as he recalled their conversation the night before, "Hai, nee-san?"

"I finished everything last night...if you still want to know." Fuji gave her a skeptical, still rather half-asleep look that told her to finish before he completely changed his mind about the whole thing and went back to acting like a school girl. She coughed, taking the look to heart immediately and continued, "Well...I've told you before that your love line is...complicated. I...might have figured out why."

Fuji's brows furrowed slightly and he slowly sat on his bed. Yumiko kept put, leaning on the wall lightly and keeping her voice down, "I admit...I didn't think Tezuka-kun would make your readings any more clear than they'd ever been...it's always been hard to read you...but..." She trailed off uncertainly, before giving in and sighing, "He made your readings almost clear as day. There were a few gray spots in the reading...probably on his part, because I don't know him as well as I know you...but from what I could see...all I can offer is this: The person you do eventually fall in love with...will be someone who can thrill you no matter what. I've told you that before, but...it will be someone that can easily shatter you...or pull you straight to the top. Possibly both. I'm not sure if it will be Tezuka...but, even if it's not, it will be someone very much like him..."

endflashback

Fuji sighed deeply, his eyes opening slightly, a bit glazed as he stared at the cieling for a moment before standing. He began scrubbing at his skin, idly almost, as he thought on those words. She'd been right. Tezuka was the only one that gave him any sort of thrill on court and off...he actually had to try to keep up with the captain. He had pulled Fuji to the height of his game and beyond it many times...and now... A shudder ran through his body and the tensai slowly sank back into the water. Now he couldn't even face the captain without having an internal nervous reaction. He wanted to act like that was nothing...like things were the same as before. But, Tezuka knew. Tezuka knew, even if it was only vaguely, what had happened...and everyone else knew that something had happened. Something bad enough to cause the tensai to turn on them. He pondered on the possibilities of what could be going through their minds...

Kikumaru...now that Fuji thought about it, the acrobat would likely think he'd done something to invoke the tensai's wrath. He sighed deeply, wondering how he would explain and apologize to his friend. It wasn't as though he'd consciously meant to target him... Inui likely had a good deal of theories...many of which were probably almost dead center. He could guess what had happened...but he'd never guess who. Oishi...was probably the only one primarily freaking out over his sudden mood swing and the hole going through half his arm. Kawamura was likely fidgeting in his seat at that very moment. Fuji mused a moment on this, a small, sad smile pulling at his lips as he thought of the poor power player. He could just see him trying to sit still and not show the evident worry. The two second years...oh, they must've been having violent fits. Fuji sighed, hoping desperately they wouldn't kill anyone, especially each other. That would be far too messy for Tezuka to clean up...

The thoughts of his captain caused the tensai to freeze, and involuntarily shift further into the water. He wanted to explain to Tezuka...he wanted Tezuka to want him...not because he felt guilty, but because he genuinely, honest to the soul cared about what happened to Fuji. Perhaps he did, and Fuji had just taken the silence wrong? He had Monday, so perhaps he had again? That seemed to be becoming an increasing hardship for the tensai. One that was costing him dearly. He held in a sigh and quietly, slowly, submerged himself in the water to wet his hair.

Or perhaps we are right. Perhaps he doesn't care about us. It's only his reputation and conscience he's worried about. He won't even call us by name in public. Perhaps he's ashamed to have such a privilage?

Fuji bolted back upright, coughing at the sudden rush of sitting back up. Blood rushed to his head, and he found himself spitting a bit of water out of his mouth. Once he calmed down, he felt that familiarizing fear creeping along his skin and causing the small hairs to stand on ends. He was really starting to hate that voice...it was reasonable, true...but it was also reminding him of what he didn't want to think on. Granted...he hadn't really let Tezuka explain.

But he didn't follow.

He...might have.

Fuji shifted uncomfortably, the water suddenly turning sickeningly cold with his body's temperature. He hadn't really looked for Tezuka...or perhaps Tezuka had assumed he'd run to St. Rudolph and was there now? For all he knew, he was telling Yuuta what had happened. Unable to really enjoy, or focus, on the bath any longer, Fuji stood, wrapped himself tightly in a towel and skittered timidly to his room. While the familiarity again felt good, something felt out of place. He looked around curiously, and found he couldn't place it. Something was amiss...he just couldn't pinpoint what. With a half-hearted shrug, he slowly dropped the towel in favour of digging clothes out for himself. As he rummaged through his various shirts and such, his eyes strayed to his arms. There was a light bruising at his wrists, and a few at his forearms from where he'd been held down. They were hardly visible-the only reason he knew of them was because he could still feel the pain- and he seriously doubted Tezuka had noticed them. From there, he slowly straightened his posture and looked over the rest of his body. He hadn't really looked at himself since he'd regained consciousness at Tezuka's house...he knew he had scars and bruises, because he could feel them...he just didn't know the extent. He carefully gathered his clothes in his arms before shuffling back to the bathroom. The sight that met him caused him to pale and his arms ended up wrapped across his stomach to keep from turning away or throwing up. His skin was indeed pale, though he contributed that to his temporary state of panic and from pushing himself so hard to run all the way home from Tezuka's while he was clearly coming down with another cold. What bothered him...was the dark red and purple against once otherwise flawless skin. He'd once prided himself in his complexion-it was a habit of his to tease Atobe with how close his own skin was to perfection like the narcissist. It riled Atobe every time, because he wouldn't be able to argue that the tensai did indeed have skin near fair as his own, though he despised admitting to that. Now though...

Timidly, he pressed two fingers to the bruising at his neck. He'd been able to see it under Tezuka's shirt, and it had looked decently healed. Now that he saw it in full, against nothing more than his body, he could tell that it was long from healing, and was very well just in the first stages of bruising. Smaller bruises were already yellowing and fading into his skin...that one was still a devestatingly dark purple-the only hints of yellow were along the edges. After a moment, his eyes trailed to his chest, where he was grateful to have very little marking. There was a horrid bruise on his left ribcage and he prodded it tenderly. It sent a harsh pulse of pain and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Despite being alone, he refused to indulge the pain. Just as he had Monday night. Tears could run down his face all they wanted, but he would not make a single noise. He hadn't cried out once he realized that the pleading got him nowhere-merely let tears run down his face, which he'd been unable to stop. He pushed the thoughts away with a shudder and allowed his eyes to fall further down his reflection. His stomach was thankfully left without marking, though a pair of bruises were forming on both sides of his waist. He carefully traced the bruise, noting that the edge where fingers had dug into his skin had been left with deeply imprinted marks. He quickly drew his fingers away from the area, as the slight pressure reminded him of the force that had held his hips. He chanced looking down at his legs, a silently shamed look crossing his face as his eyes first hit the now tainted organ between his legs before he forced them to his thighs. Nail marks...bites...and the two deep marks. One on the outside of each leg. It was just high enough that he could hide them under his tennis shorts when he got around to ordering a new uniform, but it was also close enough to where his pocket would be that the slightest vibration would cause an epical amount of pain, as he'd already discovered.

The reminder of the incident, reminded him that he once more forgot his phone. Panic set in once more and he whimpered softly to himself. He turned to dress, perhaps to gather enough sanity and courage to try talking to Tezuka, only to stop short. As he turned, he caught sight of his back in the mirror. and slowly turned the rest of the way and looked over his shoulder in silent disgust and horror. There was a cigarette burn right above his tailbone, which certainly explained the pain he'd experianced whenever he served or twisted his body to hard to return shots. A few more deep red scars curved above the burn and he frowned deeply. The made a wave-like design. One that looked familiar, though he couldn't place where he'd seen it. With another shudder he quickly pulled on the shirt he'd picked. It was a baby blue, fluffy turtle-neck sweater, which he happily snuggled himself into for a moment or so before he pulled on a pair of underwear and the loose jeans. The scent of his room sank into his senses and he sighed happily as he quietly tupped from the bathroom and towards his room once more. He'd just grab a pair of socks and try heading back to Tezuka's house. Perhaps...all they needed was to talk?

As he pulled the socks on, he found himself talking idly to the cacti by his bed, smiling at them gently as he did, "Neh...do you think I was wrong to yell at him?"

Silence. Fuji laughed.

"Aa, I should've let him try to explain...it would seem I'm becoming increasingly irrational."

Silence. Fuji sighed deeply, drawing his knees to his chest.

"I don't know why...this is all I've wanted. ...Not the pain, but...for Tezuka to hold me like he has...to kiss me...to..." A shudder ran through the tensai's body and he bit his lip, afraid to admit to that last bit. To make love to me... He wanted to say it out loud...but somehow, it seemed...wrong. He was tainted. Tezuka was still...beautifully clean. Still pure. People often refered to Fuji as a porcelien doll that needed constant caring and attention, and he refered to Tezuka in that way. The captain was a figure of strength to Fuji; a symbol of control and kindness at the same time. But Fuji could see under that stoic, marble-like exterior. On the inside, Tezuka was just as much human as the next person; he felt pain...joy...anxiety...guilt. Granted the tensai had learned of those the hard way, it proved he was human.

With a sigh, he wandered to his sister's room, hoping to find a bit of foundation to cover the bruises around his wrists. He found, unfortunately, whenever he stretched his arms out, the sleeves rolled back enough to expose his wrists. While the bruising was light, in the proper lighting, they were very noticible against his skin and the shirt, so he opted to try make-up to hide them. Normally...he wouldn't go into his sister's room without permission, but these were special circumstances. It wouldn't be the first time he'd...'borrowed' her make-up to hide bruising. He'd done so often when he was little-he got into a lot of fights protecting Yuuta, after all- and he did almost as much when he was a first year. He hadn't necessarily gotten into fights...he just got pushed around by upperclassmen a lot. He wasn't willing to fight people on his behalf-it seemed wasteful to him. There were always people worse off than himself, so was his reasoning, and therefore, there was little reason for him to defend himself unless it got out of hand.

He frowned softly at the thought, pausing as he applied the concealer to his wrists. Once. He could only think of one incident that had almost gotten out of hand...one particular incident where he'd almost gotten raped.

3 years earlier...

Fuji was running horribly late that day. He'd missed morning practice because of a doctor's appointment, and that had set his entire schedule off beat. He couldn't focus in class, and found himself constantly messing with his left arm where he'd gotten a shot, or starring out a window. It didn't help that his thoughts kept wandering to a certain team mate... He'd just met Tezuka a few days before, and had found himself completely enthralled by the boy. He'd seen him plenty of times in passing, and had paid little mind to him past the fact that he held a mature air and was admittedly handsome. He hadn't really paid him any mind until he finally saw him playing tennis. Fuji had been running laps around the courts to occupy himself-he was in no mood to play practice matches, despite Yamato-buchou's approval that he could. He just happened to run by Tezuka's court and had stopped to observe.

His form had been beautiful, Fuji found himself noting. Graceful...confident...determined. It was amazing. He could see why Yamato-buchou was so protective of the boy. He had amazing potential...undoubtedly, he would be Yamato's successor one day. Fuji watched the match in a trance, almost. About half way through, he frowned heavily. Kikumaru appeared by his side, looking up at him questioningly.

"Fuji, what's wrong?"

"...He's faking." The future tensai muttered, and the red head gave him a questioning look.

"Eh?"

"Faking...he's not right-handed...but he's playing with his right."

"Very good."

Kikumaru squeaked and jumped at the sudden voice, Fuji merely turned, almost glaring in accusation up at their captain. Yamato smiled down at him, none to intimidated by the glare and offered a mere compliment of, "You're perception is good, Fuji-kun. Are you sure you don't want to practice? Perhaps then Tezuka-kun will have a challenge. He must be bored playing them, by now--"

"You knew. Why aren't you making him play left-handed?"

"...Ask yourself that question." Yamato's smile told Fuji that he wasn't getting a direct answer and the tensai turned and ran off. He spent the rest of the practice running and thinking.

And there he was again, sitting in his morning classes, and thinking on it. The teachers seemed to notice his mood and let him be. They didn't worry about him...he was a natural genius when it came to school work and tennis. They didn't have to worry.

His distant mood carried into lunch and he found himself idly wandering the school. He wasn't hungry...doctor visits always left him feeling absolutely sick to the stomach. So, he wandered and pondered, until he soon found himself under his favourite tree. It was a bit away from the school, and was surrounded by bushes...people rarely found him there, if ever. So, he continued his pondering there, in the quiet, comforting solitude of his private sanctuary. Tezuka obviously wanted to be the best. Otherwise, he wouldn't bother playing against upperclassmen. He would participate with other first years more often, and he certainly wouldn't be striving to hold such a high student council position along with his over the top studies. Fuji honestly didn't understand him. He was drawn from his thoughts by a voice calling his name, and he looked up irritably, though his face betrayed nothing aside from the fox-like mask. A third-year was walking towards him and Fuji found himself frowning and dropping his mask.

"Kiriya-sempai..." The first year all but hissed.

The boy was clearly one of the school's "rejects". ...At least, that's what Fuji refered to him as. He was apart of a local gang-had been for years-, everyone knew about it. Fuji knew personally, because they'd once bullied Yuuta...and Fuji had personally sent them into a world of Hell. One that had, unfortunately-and quiet unbeknown to him at the time- landed him a permanent stalker. Unlike other hopefuls, Kiriya didn't back down from simple threats. Fuji usually ended up running off to the nicer upperclassmen-i.e. Yamato-buchou- to get away from him. Something the future tensai didn't enjoy, but would do to stay away from the other. He was still quite bitter about their previous run-ins, and he certainly hadn't been pleased when he found out that he was at the same school.

Aside from his reputation, he was handsome. His hair was dark and unruly...but it held a rugged appeal to it. His eyes were sharp, constantly narrowed in a smug, almost primal glare of self-superiourity. His confidence won him many a fangirl, despite his reputation, and respect from other classmates. That was also the characteristic that made Fuji want to gut him on sight every time he saw him. He often planned out how he could do it, and get away with it, but his vengeance was always subdued by someone, be it Tezuka, Yuuta, or just a passer-by seeing him seething and asking if he was alright. In more recent cases though, it was usually because he had to hide behind his captain.

"What's the look for? You didn't miss me?" The third year smirk, his hands buried in his pockets and his eyes locked on the petite first year. Fuji barely refrained a snarl and answered through clenched teeth.

"Of course I did. Who wouldn't miss that delusionally beautiful urge to throttle you with your own damned bandana?"

Kiriya merely gave a harsh, bark-like laugh and untied the bandana from his arm. It was solid black, with blue waves lines on it. The symbol of his gang. He held it out so the freshman could see it, a taunting smirk on his face.

"Asphyxiation, eh? Heh...kinky. But I can think of other things to do with it."

Before he could think to ask, or to try getting away, he found himself pinned to the ground. His yelp was muffled by a hand clamping down tight over his mouth, while the other skillfully, in an almost practiced manner, bound his wrists above his head with the bandana. Something between fear and fury was welling up in him at this point, and he promptly growled threateningly as the hand left his mouth, only to be silenced by a rough, demanding kiss. The hand that had covered his mouth slid under his uniform, roughly exploring the bare skin and causing the young tensai to try pressing into the ground to get away. When he was finally allowed the grace to breathe from the kiss, he found he couldn't scream, or make much any other noise aside from the dangerous growl and the low hisses of pain. Luckily, the older made a dire mistake, and let Fuji's hands go, thinking the first year wouldn't be able to get out of the binding. He obviously didn't know Fuji as well as he thought.

It didn't take him long to work his wrists out of the bindings, and an even shorter time to wrap the bandana around his sempai's throat and begin choking him. Despite his small size, he managed to flip them, one knee pressing hard into the older's stomach, while he continued pulling tight on the bandana. He glared down at the other, keeping icy eye contact.

"Listen...and listen good. If you ever...ever touch me again...or even go near my little brother. I will hunt you down...and make your life a living, Hell-sent nightmare that you will never. Ever. Wake from." His eyes narrowed even more dangerously, if that were at all possible, "And then, I will leave you to rot in your paranoia and delusions. Do you understand me?"

He recieved a rather numb nod and he stood, throwing the wadded bandana down at the man irritably before he ran. Tears threatened his eyes, but he kept his gaze downcast until he found Yamato, and securely hid himself at his side until lunch had ended. The captain asked no questions, though others gave them odd looks. He escorted Fuji to and from class for the rest of the week...something Fuji was never able to figure out if it meant he knew, or just had suspicions about what had happened...

endflashback

The revelation hit him almost immediately as the memory faded. It left him with a distant look on his face as he stared at his reflection. He hesitantly reached back, tracing the scars on his back through his shirt. Waves. That's why they looked familiar. That's why that memory forced itself to the surface. ...That only explained why Kiriya would be spread rumors. Shiraki and Ichikawa had never gotten past threatening him. Only Kiriya and one other had ever truly tried to physically force him into a relationship, and both boys had been thoroughly dealt with. Kiriya had eventually been kicked out of school for having a fling with a first year girl...unfortuantely for him, he'd been caught. The other...Fuji never was sure what happened to him. At the moment, he couldn't even remember his name. He was too busy forming new plots of deathly vengeance as he glared at the mirror.

We'll take him out then, won't we?

...No. I'm going to make him wish he were dead.

Fuji frowned at his reflection and shook his head. To his surprise, the reflection spoke back, in that sultry, seducing voice that always managed to creep into his mind.

A delicious plan...you could use this to your advantage. Humiliating Tezuka at the same time. You know how. It's just a matter of timing and setting, isn't it? It will be very easy--

"Shut up!"

The last thing Fuji saw was shattered glass as his fist made contact with the mirror. The next thing he knew, was a pair of arms was dragging him backwards, and he was fighting desperately not to lapse and fighting harder to get away...to see who had him. He turned, and found his jaw dropping somewhat as he stammered to find his voice.

--

PostAN:

...Anywho. So. I decided I'll let ya'll give input on who it should be. If I don't get much of a response, I'm just going to do like...eeny-meeny or something. Choices are: Yumiko, Tezuka, Yuuta. Please state why.

You can choose someone else if you'd like, but make sure you give an extra good reason as to why. If I find a good reason to use someone else, I'll do it, but please remember that it's ultimately my choice and depends on my muse.

Anywho. Also like to give fair, fair warning.

REGARDLESS OF WHO IS CHOSEN.

...Thank you. No review answers this time, just rounds of thank you and apologies for making you all wait so damned long.

...Also. Looking for a beta if anyone's interested.