Tender Poison, a prince of tennis fanfic

Synopsis: They once loved innocently, but they had become men, and that love became too demanding that it threatened to destroy all that they've had.

Pairing: Tezuka x Fuji shounen-ai

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance

Rating: PG

Tender Poison

By anek

He once believed in something eternal… but perhaps as one grows older, such notions become naïve… if not foolish.

"Tezuka... I think... I'll take a walk outside," Fuji said in his casual soft voice, but somehow, the words sounded sad, wrought with a certain finality that Tezuka knew it had ended. He had feared it to happen… yet he knew that it was something that would eventually come.

There was nothing more that could be done about them.

He recognized the blue knitted sweatshirt Fuji wore, although the color had faded almost into a dull gray. It was not a very expensive shirt… yet it had taken a fair deal of saving when he had decided to buy it for Fuji's birthday... after all, back then he had only been a middle school student who still depended on his allowance.

And that was the first time he ever agonized over a present.

He took his eyes off the newspaper article he had been reading, folding the paper slowly and gently laying it on the finely varnished wooden table. He took a sip from the tea Fuji had prepared earlier. It was lukewarm and somewhat bitter; with a tiny hint of mint and a faint trace of honey... just the way Fuji had always prepared it... just the way he had always wanted it.

How many years had it been?

Ten years... it was not a wonder how Fuji would know how he always preferred his tea.

He remained silent when Fuji slowly bent to done a pair of worn-out rubber shoes. There were many other shoes in the closet, both for formal and casual occasions… yet Fuji had never even once touched most of those. Nor was there a need to wear the faded sweatshirt for the closet also offered an assortment of expensive clothing and finely branded garments.

Had he been wrong for wanting to offer such luxury to Fuji?

No... he knew he had been wrong in many other ways, and perhaps that was the most ironic truth of all. Both of them knew very well where things were leading to, yet they chose to desperately cling to each other until the intensity of that despair became nigh choking.

"Then I'm going," Fuji announced as he reached for the doorknob. There was a gush of fresh morning air as Fuji opened the door. The house faced a wide but quiet street and it was still too early for any sign of activity outside.

Tezuka opened his mouth to speak, but realized that what he wanted to say, he did not quite know.

"Aa," he nodded, replacing the teacup on the table where it made a slight noise as it made contact with a small plastic coaster.

Fuji nodded in response, and motioned to close the door.

"No, leave it open," Tezuka ordered.

Fuji tilted his head in inquiry.

He averted his gaze to the teal-painted iron fence behind where Fuji stood.

"It's a nice day," he offered as a short explanation.

Fuji nodded again.

"Aa... it's a perfect day in spring," Fuji agreed.

Almost too perfect to be ending it all.

The truth was, he merely wanted to look at Fuji's back.

Somewhere along the way, something had gone wrong. He had come to resent that old shirt Fuji wore... it reminded him of the youth they once were, and mocked him of the men they had become.

Fuji's words lingered behind as he watched Fuji's receding back visible through the door that was left open. They once thought that if they had love, they could hold on to each other, but maybe too much love was never a good thing either. He who loved Fuji to an extreme, demanded all of Fuji, held Fuji too tight that there was no room left to breath. And Fuji who loved him equally, let himself be, until they both became mere shadows of the boys who once loved innocently.

He walked to where his feet carried him. The sun had steadily risen and it was getting warmer but he felt no inclination to shrug off the sweatshirt he wore. He had no destination in mind, though when he came upon a train station, he took the first trip not caring where it was headed.

On the next stop, a horde of passengers entered and he was pressed against a middle-aged man who carried a worn-out brown briefcase. The train was packed and the passengers buzzed in commotion.

The continuous chugging sound the train made slowly quieted as it pulled into a stop. The air felt somewhat refreshing when quite a few of the passengers stepped out, but just as he was about to move into a more comfortable position, more people rushed in and he was pushed farther back. Although still early, it had become almost unbearably hot, and the thick shirt he wore did not help. The air inside the train filled with the smell of sweat and cheap perfume became almost suffocating.

He shifted slightly when the train started again, and it was then when he noticed the small pressure just above his left hip. It would have been expected, after all, the train was jam-packed and it would be natural for someone's hand to be innocently pressed against his side… except that the said hand had mysteriously found it's way under his shirt.

The hand slowly started to move downward. Fuji didn't make an effort to move; he didn't feel like speaking either. He fixed his gaze on the glass window. From the angle of the sun, it must be almost seven o'clock in the morning although the sun still cast a faint orange glow that reflected from the tall buildings as the train whizzed past.

The hand under his shirt dared to move again. He stared on the glass window with dull eyes; a reflection of a boy with a cheery but somewhat deceptive smile stared back with mocking eyes. What would that boy have done in such a situation? That boy never would have stood there silently while being taken advantage of. That boy had pride, had a cool, nonchalant exterior that hid a quiet strength and a fervent spirit.

But that boy was gone… and when the train halted to another stop, the reflection faded altogether. He stepped out of the train, shrugging off the hand under his shirt without bothering to look who it belonged to. He walked away without looking back.

After taking a couple more train rides, he probably ended up somewhere in the north, or so he deduced from the growing colder climate. It was a small town, the tallest building in the vicinity being the five-story hospital in the middle of the town. It must be around mid-afternoon, judging from the sight of children in school uniforms too pleased to have gotten out of school at last. He had not eaten anything since morning, but his stomach, like his feet, had probably become numb as well.

He continued walking down the street until he came upon an old building where a metal plate hung on the concrete pillar next to the gate. Apparently, it was a school.

A distant rhythmic thumping caught his attention. He glanced around, and walked farther along the fence until he came upon a junction where the concrete fencing ended and a wire fence surrounded what seemed to be the school field. A tennis court was visible on one corner.

On the court, a boy was steadily hitting a tennis ball against a sturdy wall. Fuji stood silently watching. He brought his hand up to lace his fingers with the cold wire fence.

Years ago, he and Tezuka shared the same passion for tennis. It was on the court that they understood each other the most. No matter how much they gave to each other, and no matter how willing they were to give… on the court, they were always equals, rivals who each sought victory. And it was because they knew each other best that they always did their best on their games.

It was tennis that first brought them together, and he wondered if perhaps if it was tennis that brought them down as well.

"Niisan, it's not polite to stare at people, you know."

The boy approached after noticing him. Closer, the boy seemed older than what Fuji thought him to be. It was probably the eyes, sharp eyes that suggested a disposition that was far more serious and mature for his age.

"Ah, sorry," Fuji apologized. When the boy didn't reply, Fuji continued. "You play tennis very well."

The boy seemed to give it a small thought, before frowning and giving his wrist an unsatisfied look.

"Still not good enough."

Such familiar words, and it gave Fuji a pause.

"It's still not enough," the boy repeated, now flexing his wrist as if giving it some exercise.

The boy indeed reminded him of someone from the past.

Fuji smiled.

"That's good," he replied.

"Why is that?" the boy's frown deepened, obviously slightly piqued.

Fuji let his gaze be drawn to the now empty tennis court. Somehow, an empty tennis court seemed rather lonely.

"Well… once you say 'It's enough', you'll lose all reason to keep wanting to be stronger, don't you think?" he answered. "Someone said the same thing a long time ago," he continued.

He kept his eyes on the court. There was a sudden strange sense of nostalgia that he hadn't felt in years. He could almost see students clad in blue and white jersey; Tezuka standing on the side, arms crossed, an unnerving frown in place; Eiji bouncing about the court; Oishi smiling kindly... and everyone determined to drive their abilities to the limits.

"You play tennis?" the boy asked.

Once he had played, enjoyed, and loved tennis, but it was for Tezuka that he decided to never hold a racket again. The arm that had always bothered Tezuka, the one factor that always stood between Tezuka and the future that he dreamed of, had made such a future blurry until it was no longer visible. He knew that holding a racket in front of Tezuka would be too painful, and although Tezuka never demanded of him to give up tennis, it was something that he could readily give up for Tezuka.

Fuji shook his head slightly.

"Not really…" he answered detachedly, giving the boy a slight nod before moving away from the fence intending to leave.

"Will you play with me then?" the boy called out.

Fuji turned to smile.

"Sorry, but I don't really play…"

"Yes you do."

Fuji was surprised at the conviction those words held.

"Somehow… I just know that you play tennis," the boy continued.

Fuji glanced at the tennis racket the boy held in one hand. For years, his life had revolved around Tezuka... living his life as Tezuka chose it to... molding his own self as Tezuka saw it fit. But if he really were to close that chapter of his life, perhaps it was time for him to pick up things he had cast aside.

"Alright… but are outsiders allowed on school grounds?" he asked.

The boy shrugged.

"No one's around anyway."

It had been so long since he held a racket, and so long since he had exercised his body to exhaustion. Even after the years, the racket still fit on his hand, and the velvety grip tape around the handle felt familiar on his palm.

Even so, his triple counter had lost some of its perfection from lack of practice, but it was still more than enough to completely overwhelm a junior high school student. It was never his style to show all of his techniques until the situation demanded it, but for once, he let himself be carried by the strange refreshing sensation of having stood on the tennis court again after so long.

"It's not polite to deceive people either, you know. You said you don't play," the boy said between gasps of air, having lost all six games.

Fuji shook his head.

"It's mostly true. I haven't held a racket in five years."

There was an initial look of surprise on the boy's eyes, before letting himself fall on the ground, either out of exhaustion or just a dramatic play at it.

"Well that just makes me feel worse," the boy mumbled.

Fuji stood and brushed off a few grass leaves that got caught on his shirt.

"I suppose I should be going now."

"Where to?" the boy asked suddenly, sitting up on the grass.

Fuji raised his gaze to the sky. The sun was almost setting.

"Saa…" he whispered, mostly to himself.

The boy stood.

"Oi, you didn't run away from home, did you? Coz if you did, you're too old for it."

Fuji smiled.

"Maa… something like that."

There was a slight pause before the boy spoke again.

"My family runs an inn… you could stay over…"

After giving it a thought, Fuji nodded. When they walked, they boy told him of his name, and Fuji told the boy of his as well.

The small eatery looked the same as he remembered it, except for the fact that when one flipped the white cloth that hung by the sliding door, no longer will you see a middle-aged man behind the counter, but a young man on his mid-twenties, brows furrowed slightly with such concentration as he pressed the white rice between his fingers.

Kawamura Takashi had not changed much in almost ten years, except for the slightly visible beard stub on his chin that Kawamura now preferred to sport.

When Kawamura noticed him standing by the entrance, Tezuka nodded his head in acknowledgement, but the other's frown merely deepened as he turned his attention to one of the customers without so much as a forced smile.

Tezuka took the first empty seat along the counter.

He fixed his gaze on the assortment of sushi on display, although he did not have the interest nor the appetite for such at the moment.

Kawamura never sent him a second glance.

Kawamura was never the rude kind. In fact, in junior high, Kawamura was perhaps the most polite of them all, that is, not considering the other personality that appeared when holding a racket.

No, in fact, Kawamura hasn't change at all. There was still that same timidity when he spoke to the customers, and the same kindness that was almost visible on his eyes. It was only to Tezuka that Kawamura had become cold… and Tezuka completely understood why.

"What can I get for you?" Kawamura finally asked, voice devoid of any sort of recognition that they had once been acquaintances, and perhaps, friends.

Tezuka paused, eyeing the assortment of sushi ingredients on display in pretext although in truth, he was not too sure altogether why he wanted to speak with Kawamura.

"Kawamura-san," he began, a faint realization that once, he might have called Kawamura by the first name, but that did not matter altogether. "Kawamura-san… Fuji… has left," he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could although his slightly hoarse voice might have betrayed his emotions a little.

It was a while before Kawamura replied.

"That's good."

Tezuka ignored the apparent spite in the other's voice.

"I cannot show myself to him anymore. If I did, I'd just do the same things again. That's why… I'm asking you to look for him, Kawamura. I'll pay however much you need. Just make sure he's alright –" Tezuka was abruptly interrupted by the loud sound as Kawamura suddenly slammed his hands on the wooden counter. There was a collective gasp among the customers as well and eyes were drawn to their direction.

"Fuji is not a child Tezuka. Fuji is not weak," Kawamura started, his breathing becoming slightly ragged indicating that he had held such anger within him for so long.

"Fuji was never weak, you made him become one."

It wasn't an accusation. It was the truth. And Tezuka didn't have anything to say to deny it.

He continued to sit still as Kawamura continued.

"You've not only become a coward Tezuka, but a selfish one as well. You fell, and you had to drag Fuji with you."

Tezuka knew exactly what Kawamura was referring to.

"I never asked him to give up tennis," he replied, although it was more of a weak statement rather than an argument to defend himself.

"But you never convinced him otherwise either. He gave tennis up for you, but it was still not enough for you, was it?" Kawamura finished, proceeding to turn his attention to one of the customers indicating that their conversation had ended.

Tezuka nodded slightly in Kawamura's direction before he stood up. When he stepped out, the clouds had darkened, a warning of an upcoming rain, although the weather had been very pleasant just a few minutes ago.

He shoved his hands onto the pockets of his business suit. As he walked down the street, he wondered when he had become such a pitiful man. True, he had become a successful business man, admirable to others… having become the section chief at the age of twenty-four. But the only thing that remained the same between the him that was now, and the him back then, was the stoic exterior he kept… but inside, he no longer had the confidence, the pride, the strength he once had.

He came upon a small pet shop by the sidewalk. The window displayed a pair of canaries inside an intricately decorated cage.

He remembered, towards the end of their graduation day back when they were Seigaku regulars, Kawamura had approached him then.

"Tezuka, please take care of Fuji," Kawamura had nervously asked, slightly flushed for admitting at harboring affection for the boy in question.

Tezuka had been surprised. He and Fuji had been convinced that their relationship was not known to anyone else, but perhaps it was because Kawamura had always watched Fuji that their situation didn't escape the other's observation.

He had nodded in assurance, and when Kawamura turned away, a question suddenly came to his thought.

"Taka-san, why didn't you tell him how you felt?"

Kawamura had turned redder, uncomfortably rubbing the back of his neck.

"W-well... I... I just thought looking at him was enough," Kawamura paused, glancing at Tezuka with slight apprehension.

When Tezuka nodded to urge the other to continue, Kawamura seemed to have gotten over his earlier uneasiness and spoke more freely.

"I love the sight of Fuji on the court. I've asked myself, why does Fuji play tennis? He doesn't play to become the best. He doesn't play to show to everyone his skills. He doesn't demand revering attention from those who watch. He plays to simply enjoy it. And then I realized... I didn't want to catch him. You know... like how birds are most beautiful when flying freely..." Kawamura drifted off, staring at something that was seemingly far off.

He had remained silent. He may not be one for such flowery words, but he understood what Kawamura had tried to say.

There was a long silence after, and when Kawamura realized that he had lost himself in his thoughts, he flushed deeper, more flustered than before.

"Ah sorry, I'm not making sense at all!" Kawamura had apologized, giving him another embarrassed look.

After another short pause, Kawamura had taken his hand for a handshake.

"But you've caught him before I realized it, Tezuka... that's why, please take care of him."

Those were the last words he had spoken with Kawamura on good terms. They've gone to different high schools, and while Kawamura was doing his best to take over his family's business, he and Fuji did their best to build their life together as well.

The next time they had spoken was only a couple of years ago, when he caught the sight of Fuji enthusiastically dining with Kawamura on his way from work. He did not even ask for an explanation, nor did he spare any room for such.

Fuji was his, that was something he wanted to be completely understood, and it didn't matter how, even if it meant locking Fuji in a room that only he held the key. But even when he realized that his suspicions didn't have any basis, Fuji never asked for an apology, but still smiled through parched, pale lips.

Fuji fetched the ball that landed only a few inches from his feet.

"Ah, sorry sensei!" a boy called out running towards him from the field.

Fuji smiled.

"It's alright. I was not hit," he reassured. When the boy stopped only a few paces away from him, he tossed the ball towards the boy's direction.

"Lower the angle where you're hitting the ball," he ordered, to which, the boy nodded enthusiastically.

Technically, he was not a teacher for he did not have the qualifications for one, but the school at least recognized his skill at tennis and had asked him to coach the tennis club in hopes of qualifying for the National competitions. And it was all thanks to the boy he met three months ago, Sawada Sena. He had found decent lodging in the inn the boy's mother ran in the small town as well.

The bell rang, and the students hastily rushed out of the tennis court. One dashed away yelling "Hamburger! Hamburger!" while dragging an unenthusiastic youth along.

Fuji couldn't help but chuckle.

"Just like Momo and Echizen," he muttered, suppressing a grin.

"Hmm… it's rare to see you smile like that, Fuji-san."

Fuji smiled at the approaching boy; it was Sawada.

"You think? I was always told that I'm always smiling."

Sawada shrugged.

"Yeah, but that smile just now was different."

Fuji paused.

"You really are very observant, Sawada-kun."

They sat on the grass silently, letting the noise from the commotion of students rushing out of the buildings quiet down before Sawada spoke again.

"Fuji-san, why did you stop playing tennis? You could have easily become a pro, you know. Maybe even one of the bests."

Fuji pulled a grass from the ground, and inspected it for a while before answering. He saw no reason to lie.

"Because someone very important to me couldn't play anymore… and I just couldn't pick up a racket after that."

Sawada glanced at him.

"Your lover?"

There was an initial surprise in Fuji's eyes, before he smiled again.

"Maa… I guess you could say that."

Sawada frowned.

"Then that person is selfish, don't you think? Dragging you along just because that person couldn't play tennis anymore."

Fuji shook his head. Not once did he ever blame Tezuka for his tennis. It was a decision he made freely.

"Not at all. It was a free decision on my part," he explained.

Sawada stood and pocketed the tennis ball he had been holding.

"If it had been me, I wouldn't let you lose such a future just because it's something that I can't achieve for my self anymore."

Fuji finally realized who it was the Sawada kept on reminding him. The boy reminded him of the old Tezuka. They didn't have the same personality, Sawada was much more livelier and friendlier than Tezuka had been, but they had the same determination, the same strength, and the same love for tennis that Tezuka had.

As he looked at Sawada's back, he was suddenly reminded of a time back in junior high when Tezuka was about the same age.

It was just shortly before Tezuka left for the treatment of his arm when they found themselves alone in the clubroom.

"I want to become a pro tennis player. And not just a pro, but the best," Tezuka had volunteered to say.

It always pleased him how Tezuka seemed to open up to him. He was not Tezuka's closest friend, yet he'd always felt it, a silent understanding between them that didn't require many words.

"That's great Tezuka. We all support you, so do your best."

"What about you, Fuji? Don't you want to become one?" Tezuka had asked him then.

He hadn't been sure how to answer. It was true that he enjoyed tennis, but to make a career out of it was something that he had not considered fully well.

"Saa…" he trailed off. While in front of others he was the tensai who always knew what to do, somehow, it was alright to be uncertain in front of Tezuka.

He sat on one of the wooden benches and leaned against the wall.

"You know Tezuka, I envy you. You have a clear goal ahead… but I never really wanted to do anything in particular. I just seemed to do things naturally. I don't even remember why I started playing tennis. It seemed interesting at first… and when I played, it turned out I was good at it…" he paused, glancing at Tezuka.

Tezuka nodded silently, urging him to continue.

Fuji bent to fetch a tennis ball resting near his foot.

"But I wonder… I wonder how long this 'interest' for tennis will last. And when it's gone… then I guess I'll just go and find something 'interesting' again, right?"

He glanced at Tezuka again, his voice calm like it had always been, but both of them knew that there was a hidden fear on that question... a fear of facing a life not knowing what direction to take.

Fuji gave a dry laugh.

"Strange, I usually never tell people about these things," he said.

It was a while before Tezuka spoke again.

"It's not strange… there are things I also only tell you, and not others."

He had been slightly surprised, but only because he was not quite sure how to interpret Tezuka's words... but he had felt glad just the same.

"Ah… that's true," he replied.

They were special to the other in some way... that was something that they readily accepted although they might not have completely understood why.

They remained in a companionable silence then. That was another luxury that only they enjoyed with the other's company. If it had been with others, silence would have felt uncomfortable, yet with the two of them, the silence was so calming that Fuji could almost feel Tezuka's strength like the sturdy wall on his back.

"You still haven't defeated me in tennis, Fuji," Tezuka had suddenly pointed out.

"Hm?" Fuji had given Tezuka an inquiring look, not quite sure why Tezuka had brought up the subject. He knew Tezuka was never one to flaunt his own strength.

"You still haven't defeated me in tennis," Tezuka had repeated.

"Ah, that seems to be the case."

Tezuka had taken a few steps closer, and leaned against the wall next to where he was sitting. There was a short silence before Tezuka spoke again.

"Then follow me Fuji... follow me until you've defeated me. And I will keep on walking ahead so that you may never catch me."

There were only a few things that could render him speechless, yet at that moment, Fuji was at a loss for words. It was as if he could feel it, the intense need to follow Tezuka, the reassurance that if he only kept looking at Tezuka's back, he would never be lost again.

"That way... I can be sure that when I look back, you are always there, just waiting for me to turn around," Tezuka had continued, pushing himself from the wall and heading towards the door.

Tezuka had held the door open in one hand and motioned for him to follow. There were many things he had never thought of before... a life with tennis, a life with Tezuka, but somehow, it was as if that was how things should be.

He chuckled as he stood up.

"You're too manipulative Tezuka. Don't you mean to say that you like me?" he had asked playfully.

Tezuka had frowned.

"That's just your imagination."

Fuji smiled... Tezuka will be Tezuka.

"Tezuka, this is Oishi. I just wanted to see how you're doing. Give me a call when you get the chance."

Tezuka heard the soft click from the other end of the line, ignoring the blinking red light on the answering machine. While one usually looked forward to the weekend, he preferred the weekdays by far. During then, he buried himself with work, allowing no idle time for him to think. But on the weekends, he'd always find himself alone in the house.

The pair of potted plants Fuji kept by the front window had almost withered although he had tried his best to water them daily.

He refused to go out on the weekends. Oishi had invited him to so many outings, Oishi had always been the worrier, yet Tezuka had refused. He would spend two days inside the house. Perhaps it was because in that house was where he always felt closest to Fuji, or perhaps regret had made him want to see for himself how Fuji must have felt, staring at those blank walls all day, feeling suffocated and restrained.

While everyone, even Fuji, had told him that he had not forced Fuji to give up tennis, he himself knew that that was not entirely true. When he lost his dream for tennis, he had been willing, willing to support Fuji from behind, let Fuji achieve what he had not been able to.

"Follow me... follow me until you've defeated me..."

He had promised Fuji a future with him and tennis, and that promise kept reverberating through his memory, as if laughing... mocking at his failure. He had fallen, and all he could see was Fuji's back drifting farther away from his sight as he watched Fuji face the tennis court without him.

"I'm sorry, I can't go," he had told Fuji again during one of Fuji's practice matches. "I have work to do," was another excuse… one of the many ones he had used before.

But Fuji never complained.

"Then I won't go too, I'll stay with you, Tezuka."

"What do you mean? It's your match Fuji, you can't miss it."

On that day, Fuji's smile had been warmer than it usually was.

"I'm not playing tennis anymore."

He had been surprised, but was he really? Perhaps part of him had wanted Fuji to do just that.

"Don't do that for me, Fuji."

"I might be doing it for you Tezuka, but I'm doing it for myself too. The tennis court… it feels lonely without Tezuka."

He never said anything else to convince Fuji otherwise. It was true that he did not demand it out of Fuji either, but he could never deny the fact that at the time, all he could think of were his selfish reasons… to keep Fuji by his side, and he was slowly forgetting whether or not it mattered how.

"Maybe I should get a job…" Fuji had told him during dinner at some point.

Tezuka did not even ask what job it was Fuji wanted.

"There is no need Fuji," his answer had been abrupt and final.

Was it just his bitterness to the world for having denied him of his lifelong dream to be the best at tennis? Or was it that unspoken insecurity that demanded to be appeased?

He wondered when it was that he started to crave the feeling of being needed.

Fuji couldn't help but smile as he watched the boys as they practised tennis from the veranda on the third floor of the school building. It had become his favorite place.

The house he and Tezuka shared also had a small veranda that overlooked a wide but quiet street, and that was his favorite place in the house as well.

He remembered a time when he had just grown fond of plants, and a variety of potted flowers had lined the waist high iron railings. It had been around mid-afternoon when a rather large black cat strolled down the street, sniffing on the ground until it found an empty can on the sidewalk and began to busily nibble at it.

Fuji had immediately taken his camera out and focused the viewfinder on the cat, taking careful effort for the perfect timing. The cat must have noticed the distant flash from his camera and ran away, making clanging noises as it dragged the empty can with it.

"Fuji, this came from the mail today," Tezuka had said as he opened the sliding screen that separated their bedroom from the veranda.

"Ah Tezuka, sorry I didn't notice you're back," Fuji greeted, setting the camera on the chair as he stood up.

He had taken the manila envelope from Tezuka and ripped off the seal, pulling out a bundle of colored pictures from inside.

"They finally came," he had smiled, going through the pictures attentively that he had almost forgotten Tezuka was still looking at him intently.

"Who's that?" Tezuka had asked abruptly.

Fuji gave Tezuka a questioning look, and realized that Tezuka was referring to the picture he held in one hand.

"Ah this? This is Koujima-kun. It's a good picture, isn't it? He looked so carefree riding his bicycle, reminded me of Momo. I couldn't help taking a picture when he passed by last week," he said warmly, handing the picture to Tezuka.

But Tezuka only frowned.

"Don't take pictures of strangers."

Fuji shook his head.

"Koujima-kun is not really a stranger. He says hello once in a while…" he explained, suppressing a little grin remembering the energetic boy. The boy really did remind him of how Momo was. That boy Koujima would ride his bike down the street every morning on his way to school.

"Rapunzel Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

Fuji had laughed the first time he heard Koujima's shout. He had not taken the joke to heart; after all, it only made it more amusing realizing that his situation did not differ that much from the Rapuzel of the fairy tales either. It was not that he wasn't allowed to go out. Tezuka never told him to lock himself inside the house. But having to explain himself to Tezuka every so often had become too tiring that he only made a point of stepping out of the house when it was absolutely necessary.

"Sorry, I just had a haircut. Better bring a ladder next time," he would jokingly answer. The boy would then wave back with a grin and ride down the street.

Small things to laugh about… those were the few things left for him to look forward to every day.

"Don't take pictures of other people," Tezuka had clarified, handing the picture back to Fuji and turning around to go back inside without another word.

Fuji had stood watching Tezuka's back. Even the smallest of things left for him… Tezuka had been willing to take them from him. Fuji had started to realize it from long before.

But he wasn't angry. Not once did he even feel bitter… because, in this world, nobody understood Tezuka better than he did. He would love even that selfish person Tezuka had become.

Tezuka and him... had they really changed so much over the years? Tezuka desired to keep him by his side... and he... he was only over-willing to keep himself be held captive, yet, he could not feel any anger, only a need for Tezuka to need him more.

He had given a small lifeless laugh just as Tezuka closed the sliding screen. They knew this love of theirs was slowly destroying what they were... yet they both were only too happy to drown in the tender poison that love offered.

It was a week later that Oishi had probably gone out of his mind with worry and finally decided to barge into his house. He had tried to act naturally and evade the subject, but Oishi was willing to engage in a silent battle, standing quietly in front of his desk and waited for him to speak.

Tezuka finally leaned against his swivel chair.

"I do not wish to speak of it, Oishi," he finally stated clearly.

After giving him another look, Oishi nodded. It was one of the many reasons why they've stayed close friends for so long. Oishi knew how much of his private life he was willing to share.

But just when Oishi headed for the door, Tezuka suddenly spoke.

"To love someone so much to the point that if you were to die, you'd take this person with you... did you ever suspect that I'd become that kind of person, Oishi?"

"Tezuka…" Oishi turned, but stood where he was, keeping his hand on the doorknob... not quite knowing how to reply.

So he just remained silent and waited for Tezuka to continue.

"I thought I'd spend the rest of my life around tennis… but when I lost that, I felt as if I'd lose Fuji as well. When he faced the court, I thought he would eventually go farther and farther away while I sat there on the bench unable to stand," Tezuka continued, speaking in a low voice that Oishi could barely hear.

Tezuka let out a dry laugh.

"Taka-san was right, I had really become a pathetic man."

Oishi shook his head.

"That's not true at all, Tezuka," he disagreed but he knew, that at the moment, none of his attempts at consoling the other would have affected Tezuka.

"When I lost tennis, all I could think of was that if I were to lose Fuji, I'd have nothing left. That's why… that's why I wanted to tie him down, lock him up… make him so weak that he could never live without me," Tezuka whispered, gripping the edge of the swivel chair. "But that probably just made him hate me until he could no longer take it."

They fell silent then, only the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather's clock on the wall could be heard.

After a long silence, Oishi finally spoke.

"You're wrong about that, Tezuka, I'm sure of it. Fuji never hated you. I'm sure he understood you more than anyone else. I think… maybe he became afraid of what you two were becoming. Just as you wanted to make him weak, he wanted to make you more selfish. Just as you wanted him to be unable to live without you, he wanted you to need him more so that you could never live without him either. But that kind of intense love always leads to a tragic end… that's why he left, before you've completely destroyed him and he's completely destroyed you. Do you understand Tezuka?"

Oishi waited for an answer, but Tezuka continued to remain silent. He nodded slightly to Tezuka's direction and slowly closed the door.

Tezuka remained where he sat. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of a car's engine starting, indicating that Oishi must have left.

Aa... he had understood that from the beginning, and that was the most ironic thing of all. It was exactly because he loved Fuji, and Fuji loved him, that nothing more could be done about them.

It was perfect day in spring.

Tezuka donned his blue jersey for a morning jog. When he headed towards the door, he noticed the opened letter on the dining table; neat handwriting was visible on cream-colored stationary.

The letter told of everything that had been happening in Fuji's life. He knew of Fuji's enthusiasm in coaching the school's tennis club; he knew of Fuji's newfound interest in herb gardening, and even of small details like how Fuji bought a new pair of jogging shoes the other day.

He gave the letter another glance before closing the door. He took a breath of the crisp morning air. It was a perfect day, and he recalled another such day... a memory of a perfect day in spring when a sad love story came to an end.

He moved one foot forward and started to jog along the wide but quiet street. Somewhere, Fuji must be doing his best to pick up the pieces of the lives they had left off, and he had the duty to do the same as well.

He took a left turn on the next smaller street, jogging down the concrete steps and into a small but busy street as people readied themselves to start just another day.

"Follow me... follow me until you've defeated me. And I will keep on walking ahead so that you may never catch me. That way... I can be sure that when I look back, you are always there, just waiting for me to turn around..."

That's right, all he had to do was walk forward, and one day, perhaps Fuji will find his way back, following him from behind… so that when he would dare look back again, Fuji would be there as he had always been… just waiting for him to turn around.

a/n: This fic also comes with a little illustration ; I'm not much of an artist, but I just wanted to draw a sad but smexy Fuji XD. You can view the fanart at:

incurabledreamer .vel-leity .net /Fuji-tenderpoison.jpg (just take out the spaces)

Urk! honestly, I wanted to give up on this fic halfway ;. I was always thinking "Tezuka would never do this!" or "this is so ooc!" but heck, I went through with it anyway ; Hmm... actually, I was going to give it a definite sad ending, but I thought I couldn't do that to my favorite pairing after all so I gave it an open ending kind of thing.

And just to give some credit, the title "Tender Poison" actually came from a doujinshi title by Aozora Aoi, but I just thought the title fit the fic so well and I couldn't help using it XD