Originally posted on my writing archive (linked from my profile) on March 21, 2007. Reposted here as a sampler. There is much more on my writing archive.

Title: Unfinished Business
Characters: Eiji/Fuji
Word count: 2212
Rating/Warnings: PG / Character death
Summary: Eiji needs to go, but he has one more thing to do.
Author's Notes: I don't know why I've been writing deathfics lately. I'm glad the three other WIPs are not at all related to death. Maybe I need to get some morbidity out of my system. In any case ... this is as close to Dream Pair as anyone is going to get out of me. Read it as gen if you like, since it works that way too.

When Eiji died, he expected to go to heaven.

Well, okay--maybe not straight to heaven, but he'd heard about people lining up in purgatory before they went to heaven. And though Eiji knew he hadn't been that bad ... there was always hell.

Sometimes, Eiji wondered what heaven was like. Tennis every day, and thousands of different kinds of toothpaste so that one never got tired of the taste? Or, for that matter, what hell was like. Fire and no strawberry pocky ever again? Being forced to listen to Takada-sensei's boring physics lectures for all eternity?

He would never have guessed Fuji's room.

Eiji found himself standing in the middle of Fuji's bedroom one night, blinking, as Fuji slept.

"Nya," Eiji said, scratching his head. How did he get here? Was he at a sleepover? But Fuji didn't seem like he was expecting anyone, and every time they had a sleepover, Eiji got his own futon. It wasn't like Fuji to go to bed without first laying Eiji's futon out.

Of course--maybe they were sharing a bed like they did when they were kids. Eiji grinned, happy to have found the answer. He was about to climb into bed when he paused.

"Hoi," Eiji said, surprised. "What is Daigoroo doing here? I stopped bringing him over three years ago, Fuji."

Fuji stirred, but didn't wake. His arms tightened around the bear.

"Fuji," Eiji said, raising his voice. "Why are you holding Daigoroo? He's supposed to be at my house, nya."

Fuji continued to sleep. Eiji grew impatient.

"Hoi, Fuji, wake up! I want to talk to you," Eiji said, reaching out to shake Fuji. His hand touched Fuji's shoulder and passed through it.

Eiji froze, and then after what felt like an eternity, he pulled his hand back quickly, looking at it. It wasn't solid--merely semi-translucent.

"Dear, the car! We're too close to the edge!"
"I can't, it's too slippery-- the wheel-- Oh my god, the children--"
"I'm scared, Nee-sa--"
"Father, watch out!"
"Mom--"
"Help!"
"No!"

Oh.

Eiji's knees felt weak all of a sudden, and he sat on the floor. He wondered why he could sit but not touch Fuji. He wondered if his parents or his sisters had survived, and if Oishi was feeling sad. Then he wondered why he was in Fuji's room.

He remembered the accident now. It was Golden Week, and his family had driven to Fukushima to visit friends and family. They'd stayed a little too long, and needed to hurry back because Eiji's father had to work the next day, and everyone else had to go back to school.

School. When was today? Fuji had a calendar in the room, but there were no marks on it to signify the passing of the days. The clock on Fuji's bedside table ticked softly. So it was just past three in the morning. But what day was it?

On the floor, Eiji fidgeted. He couldn't sit like this. It was difficult because he couldn't keep still; he didn't want to. So he stood up, deciding he would walk a while. Then he thought of his family, and bit his lip. He wanted to see his mother and sisters again, and yes, even his sometimes stern father. If they survived-- Eiji shook his head violently. They had to have survived. He stood, overcome with worry. Of course they'd survived ... right? But try as he might, Eiji couldn't remember anything besides his sisters, both of them clinging to him tightly, and then--nothing.

That was it. Eiji walked over to the door. He'd go check in on his family, and then ... well, he'd think of that later. His hand reached out for the door, and passed through the handle.

Eiji tried again, and again, and then paused to laugh at himself. Of course--walk through it! And he did, closing his eyes and holding his breath. He could feel the push, a slight strain backwards within his being, but then he was through it, and walking down the familiar staircase of Fuji's home. He was halfway down when he paused. He couldn't go forward any more, but he didn't know why. Eiji reached out, but whatever the invisible obstacle was, he couldn't feel anything. Something a ghost couldn't pass through? What was that?

It puzzled Eiji, but no matter. There would be plenty of time to figure that out later. He'd entered Fuji's house through the window before, and it couldn't be hard to get out that way. Besides, he was a ghost. Even if he fell, what was the worst that could happen? He was already dead, right?

Eiji grinned at his own joke, and circled Fuji's bed. He couldn't touch the window, but sticking his head out of the wall was no problem. Maybe he could float down like this. With a backwards glance at Fuji, Eiji murmured a soft apology, and pushed himself out of Fuji's room through the wall. He was floating, now, less than a meter outside Fuji's bedroom, nothing beneath his feet. Wow. This was better than acrobatic tennis. Eiji chuckled, reveling a moment in the freedom of suspension in mid-air, and then started to head away.

He got perhaps ten meters before he felt that same invisible barrier. Irritated, Eiji backed up, and then tried a different direction. Another wall, this one closer. Maybe he could go around it, Eiji thought, and he reached out to place one hand on the wall he couldn't see. Or feel. It was strange--like a forcefield, Eiji thought, belatedly. He hung there a while, and then realized it was pushing him, repelling him backwards.

"No," Eiji muttered, struggling, trying to push back. He was at a disadvantage with nothing to brace himself against, though, and he soon found himself pushed backwards, through the wall and into Fuji's room again.

Well. That was strange. Eiji debated whether it was worth trying to wake Yumiko. Fuji's older sister might know what to do, after all. He faced the door again, and walked forward. Two steps away. One step. And Eiji shut his eyes to take that last step through--

--but couldn't. Apparently he was meant to be in this room.

"Mou," Eiji said, and he sat in front of the door, glaring at it. That was that. He was stuck here until Fuji decided to wake up. Maybe tomorrow morning he could go out and see Yumiko in the breakfast area. Fuji always had breakfast with Yumiko. Yumiko could see ghosts, so she would be able to see Eiji, and then from there everything would work out. Yumiko would know what to do. All Eiji had to do was wait for morning.

"Eiji?"

Whipping his head towards the sound, Eiji froze. However, Fuji merely shifted a little, and then seemed to subside again. Eiji watched as Fuji's chest moved, shoulders rising and falling lightly, settling back into their original even rhythm again.

With a sigh, Eiji turned, leaning his back against Fuji's bedroom door. "I'm here, Fuji."

There was no reply from Fuji, only the soft noises of Fuji's breath. Fuji shifted on the bed again.

"Ne, Fuji," Eiji said, "why am I a ghost? Why am I here?" No reply.

"Is this a dream?" Eiji asked. Fuji's head moved lightly, shaking to the side.

"I bet Daigoroo misses me. Oishi too. Momo probably cried, he's a big softy. I bet Tezuka didn't cry, but I hope he missed me. Did you guys go to my funeral? I bet you did. I'm dead, aren't I? I mean, I know it, but ... now I guess I really do, huh ..."

Eiji trailed off. Fuji was nodding.

"Fuji ... can you hear me?"

Nod.

"Can you talk to me?"

Shake.

Oh. Well, this was better than nothing, Eiji thought. He paused, trying to think of questions that only required yes or no answers.

"Is my family okay?"

No response. Eiji tried again. "Is my father alive?"

Fuji shook his head, and Eiji bit his lip. "My mother? Tsuki-nee? Mi-nee? Ayu-nee?"

Shake. Shake. Shake. Shake.

Suspecting it was one thing. Knowing was another. Eiji drew tighter into himself, knees tucked under his chin, arms wrapped around his legs, and rested his chin, watching Fuji as the other slept. He was silent for a very long time, but finally, he spoke again.

"Am I a ghost?" Nod.

"Are any of my family members ghosts?" Shake.

"Do you know why I'm one but they aren't?" Nod.

"Should I know?" Nod.

"Do I know?" No movement.

"That's just great," Eiji said, quietly. "I miss my family, nya."

On the bed, Fuji was silent and still, and Eiji wondered if Fuji was waiting for something. More questions, maybe.

"Is it because I hate someone?" Shake.

"Am I supposed to seek revenge on someone?" Shake.

"Is it because I have some unfinished business?" Nod.

"Do you know what sort of business it is?" Shake.

"Well, that's just great," Eiji said, and he pouted. "Can I leave even if I don't know what it is?" Shake.

"If we ask Yumiko, do you think she can figure it out?" No movement.

Well, there went that plan. Since Fuji didn't know, Eiji couldn't ask Fuji all night and hope he hit something. And there was no guarantee Yumiko could figure it out. "Just great," Eiji said, letting his head hit Fuji's door. It made no noise, though Eiji could feel it behind him.

"Ne, Fuji, do you remember all those tennis matches we played?" Nod. "Me too," Eiji said. He lifted his head to look out the window. "Do you remember how you started counting stars because the Little Prince did, too?" Nod. "And remember how everyone had so much fun at all those weird tennis camps, and how Inui made those drinks for us?" Nod.

Eiji grinned. "Did you really like all those drinks, Fuji?"

There was no response, and Eji pondered that. "Did you like the original Inui Juice?" Nod.

"The Super Golden Remix?" Nod.

"Aozu?"

Fuji shook his head, and Eiji laughed. "I miss talking to you, and studying together, and our sleepovers, Fuji. We won't have any more. Will you miss them?"

Fuji nodded.

"Do you miss me?" Nod.

"Yeah," Eiji said. "I miss you too, Fuji. A lot." Eiji was pretty sure ghosts couldn't feel pain. Still, his chest felt as if it was tightly constricted.

Then suddenly ... he thought maybe he knew what this unfinished business was.

"Fuji ... do you love me?"

Fuji was silent and didn't move. Eiji hadn't really expected anything there. He rose, and then walked over to the bed. Daigoroo was still in Fuji's arms, but that meant Eiji could lie down where Daigoroo was. Eiji didn't want to wake Fuji, but if Eiji could touch Fuji, then he might disturb him without meaning to. He couldn't earlier, but then again, he couldn't touch the door earlier, too.

Just in case, Eiji tried touching Fuji again. His hand ghosted across Fuji's skin, and Eiji pulled back quickly. He could touch. Another test, then. Eiji laid his hand on Fuji's shoulder, and then pushed. The hand went through Fuji, though Fuji moved a little. Touch, but not much else.

They hadn't slept like this since they started high school, Eiji thought as he settled himself down, willing himself to sink beneath the surface of the bear, then moving so that he was curled up against Fuji, one arm over him, and still within Fuji's embrace. It was strange to be co-existing half-in and half-out of Daigoroo, but Eiji tried not to think about it. Instead, he scrutinized Fuji's face.

Fuji's breathing was even, and the rise-and-fall of his chest pushed against Daigoroo. Eiji could smell Fuji's shampoo, the light sandalwood scent Fuji liked to use. Fuji's eyes were closed as usual, but the eyelashes seemed lightly wet.

"I miss you, Fuji," Eiji said, and then he bit his lip. On impulse, the arm around Fuji squeezed as Eiji tried to hug the other. It was ineffectual, a light touch that made Fuji stir again, and all of a sudden Eiji felt absolutely hollow and lonely inside.

Oh. This was who he had left behind, and who he hadn't said goodbye to.

Eiji understood now why he was here ... and with that understanding came the realization that it was time to go. He could feel when the tightness in his chest lessened and let go, could feel his body lightening and his presence fading.

It's too early! I want to stay, nya! he thought, furiously. There was no response; only the inexorable gradual lightening of his soul. Eiji sighed and gave in. It wasn't as if he would do anyone any good here, anyway, right? And maybe he could see his family again. Still ...

A few more minutes, at least? Please, nya.

It seemed to have worked. Even if Eiji was now glowing softly, he felt anchored to this world again. Somehow Eiji knew he had to keep his word, and so he leaned over Fuji, arms surrounding the other, pretending he could feel Fuji's warmth and cuddle against Fuji's soft skin once more.

"Bye, Fuji," Eiji said, softly. "See you someday. Don't miss me too much, okay?" He closed his eyes, leaning in again to gently brush his lips against Fuji's cheek, and felt himself slowly dissolve.

The room was quiet, now, the only sounds those of one sleeping boy breathing. The clock ticked one more minute to four.

In his sleep, Fuji stirred restlessly. "Eiji," he said, softly, and a slow tear rolled down his cheek. It slid, leaving a faint trail of moisture, until it touched the soft cotton of Fuji's pillow and was absorbed. Only a small wet spot remained.

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