A/N: NOTE: Chapter 8 has been majorly rewritten as of February 11, 2011. Less melodrama, more cool-Fuji!

So thanks to all my readers and their kind reviews! Hope you enjoy and even more hopefully review?

DISCLAIMER: Look up fan fiction in Wikipedia.

WARNING: Bad, crude, offensive language. Shounen-ai! MalexMale pairring. There is no yaoi, meaning hot steamy man sex. Simply because I consider myself still not ready to read all that (though I do some hehe), let alone write it. O.O

SUMMARY: AU. Tezuka Kunimitsu is the leader of a rising gang. Fuji Syuusuke is the son of the most lethal yakuza boss in Kyoto. In adverse times and in the cruelty of fate, even the most unfortunate are given a chance to love. TezuFuji.

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Chapter 8

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"Syuusuke-kun."

Fuji looked up as Tezuka's face came into view. He smiled. "Tezuka. If you're going to address me by my first name, you might as well do away with the '–kun', ne?"

Tezuka had the grace to looked somewhat abashed at being caught. "Then what of yourself? Why back to my surname when yesterday, it was…" He crinkled his nose, embarrassed yet strangely fluttery at how the younger man had called him yesterday.

"Ah…'Mitsu-kun', you mean?" Tezuka gave a curt nod, but swallowed at the glimmer of mirth dancing in the other's oceanic eyes.

"Would you like me to call you that again? I had assumed you were rather uncomfortable with it, so I figured Tezuka would be better." Oh Fuji was clearly enjoyed taunting his prey, teasing and embarrassing him to no end. He loved how the stoic other, composed and rigid around his classmates, would behave like an innocent young child in his presence and in his only.

Somewhere inside him, a voice was screaming 'Yes!' to Fuji's question. However, being Tezuka, he managed a meek, "Hn. Whatever you wish." Thankfully, he seemed to have paled enough previously to balance out the blush creeping up to his cheeks.

Fuji only laughed out loud. "Saa…how about this then? When we are alone, I will call you 'Mitsu-kun'. However, around others, I will still address you as Tezuka to keep your dignity in check." He winked knowingly at the brunette.

Tezuka could not hold back the blush this time, though it was just a spec of dusty pink. "That…"

"Hmm? Is something the matter, Mitsu-kun?"

Tezuka sighed and rubbed his temples. The young photographer was clearly enjoying his internal torment in a professionally sadistic manner.

Receiving no reply and only silence, Fuji pushed himself up from the desk he had been leaning comfortably against and walked around the room, picking up the various equipments he had brought. The tensai deliberately slowed his movements to a cat like fashion, gradually – but still efficiently- gathering all of his belongings.

And he smirked internally. He knew Tezuka was watching him out of the corner of his eye. And he almost missed that slight intake of breath as he leaned over the counter to pull out his charger, revealing just a hint of creamy, perfect skin. He then dared even further. Tezuka could only watch on in amazement as Fuji seemingly became possessed, eyes glazed and hazy, as he slowly…turned…his…

…direction. The young Seishun leader could feel a lump forming in his throat, but couldn't find the ability to swallow. Fuji had retrieved his charger –thankfully- but was now up to something new. An endearing pout had formed on his lips, as he struggled to remove the professional camera hanging around his neck.

When Fuji couldn't seem to untangle the hair that had become stuck to the Velcro part of his camera neck-strap, he attempted to unfasten the Velcro. Which didn't work.

And thus he had turned to Tezuka.

Poor Tezuka was sitting on a nearby chair, unassuming and unaware of anything.

He did have an odd feeling of dark foreboding when Fuji ceased his fight with the camera strap however, and started walking over to him with that weird look in his eyes and a smile playing on his lips. His face was plastered with honey. Tezuka could tell that much.

"Mitsu-kun, could you please do me a favor and free my hair from this…contraption?" The tensai's dreamy gaze had now found focus on Tezuka's pair of chocolate brown, and he smiled with the sweetest scent of honey. He walked up to the chair the other was sitting in and daringly edged his knee onto the vacant spot of the chair very, very close to Tezuka's crotch.

Then, without awaiting Tezuka's approval, he bent over so his neck was now in the other youth's view, and his left arm now rested on the wall behind the chair. "Ah, Mitsu-kun, I think the problem is right there…a few strands of my hair are caught…ouch…" His right hand continued to fiddle with the strap, encouraging Tezuka to help him out.

The poor leader of Seishun-kai was at a loss. "Ah-"

He could only sense Fuji's warm breaths of air so close to his neck, sending tingling shivers down his spine.

"It's right there, Mitsu-kun." Fuji gave a sharp intake of breath as he pulled a little too hard on the strap. Tezuka nearly winced as well, feeling Fuji's gentle whispers on the shoulder.

"Ah…" Now Tezuka was the one who was dazed, and with slightly clumsy fingers he slowly undid the Velcro of the camera and pried the brown strands of silky hair loose. He was barely aware of Fuji soon getting off of him and standing before him, thanking him for his assistance.

The young brunette was sure he was as red as Eiji's hair now, and turned to the side to hide his color. He adjusted his glasses so that his hands covered his flaming cheeks. It was only a few seconds, however, until he managed to gather himself again. "Hn…you could've simply stood and everything would have been much easier that way." Tezuka let out, almost blurted.

To which, Fuji smiled a Cheshire smile. "But it worked out just fine, did it not, Mitsu-kun? And I thank you kindly for your help."

Tezuka frowned, and Fuji soon carried on gathering the rest of his belongings.

When the Yotsuba heir finished, they did a quick check of the room to make sure nothing was amiss and walked out of the Student Council room.

Fuji didn't walk a few steps until Tezuka called after him.

"Wait…Syuusuke."

Fuji turned around slowly in attention. Smiling gently, he inquired, "Yes?"

He wasn't sure which was funnier next. Tezuka's strange expression as though he had eaten a squirrel, or his comment:

"Your hair smells nice."

'You're such an idiot…'he mentally chided himself, though his features bore none of his inner torments. By the gods, why did he have to comment on Fuji's hair of all things? It made him seem like a love-stricken female, for heaven's sake. Or a hopeless romantic. Tezuka wasn't sure which one was worse. And then, Fuji's amused stare, his barely withheld chuckles…made him feel as though he were nine again. He was back at the age where little boys had crushes on ladies years older than them, blushing every two seconds and stumbling from mouth to feet.

...at least he wasn't going through puberty again...

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Two months later…

"Where is Syuusuke?" The irritated and exasperated voice belonging to the heir of Yotsuba Corps boomed into the room, startling its occupants out of their idle inactivity. The dissonance ripped through the dull and dreary atmosphere, quite similar to the ringing of the morning alarms. Nobody was fully awake yet – they had all received the honor of staying far past their usual curfew in order to carry out the tedious tasks conjured up by the diva himself.

Therefore it was perfectly reasonable that most members would currently be radiating their ire at being called, again, to the diva's office, at such an unthinkable hour in the morning on a weekend, only to be told to 'wait' for two hours, and to finally have the pleasant experience of someone bursting your eardrums. Should it be mentioned again that there was only one person to pinpoint the blame on?

Atobe, on the other hand, was looking none too pleased himself. For the record, his expression displayed a flurry of frowns, scowls, and glares - gracefully. Off the record, Gakuto had politely commented that Atobe was being "a bastard with a barrel cactus shoved up his ass. Probably Fuji's." Were it some other day of beauty and self-admiration, Atobe would have easily composed a rather arrogant and Atobe-like comeback to Gakuto's normally ape-witted insults. But today, Gakuto seemed to have hit near the mark, causing the self-absorbant man to explode in fury.

"Stupid. Bastard. Tezuka. What the hell does he need Ore-sama's precious Syuusuke for this time? It's the THIRD time this week!" His eyes jumped from one member to the next, daring someone to challenge him.

Jiroh, stupidly enough, took the bait. "Um…I think Fuji said something about helping out with student council stuff?" He blinked a few times, not sure if his answer had a negative or positive effect. Poor Jiroh never had good intuition when it came to Atobe. Gakuto tsked away and muttered something about their 'doom'.

Atobe's eyes narrowed and glimmered with ire. "And why…would they be doing that…on a weekend?"

"Why are we doing this on a weekend?" This time, Gakuto was the one brave enough to step up. That or he was simply pissed off as hell they needed to be here.

"Tezuka is the president of the Student Council and a work-a-holic. It is no surprise he would use leisure time to attend to his duties." Oshitari smirked and leaned comfortably back into his chair, as if smug that someone was more of a 'work-a-holic' than he was.

"Is it just ore-sama…" the diva drawled out slowly, his eyes still narrowed, "…or is it that Syuusuke is spending a little too much time with Tezuka than is necessary for reconnaissance purposes only? It's been two months since they've met, and since then, Syuusuke has had little to no contact with us!"

The only answer he was able to draw from the group was half-hearted shrugs.

"Hey! I get it! Fuji likes Tezuka!" The orange haired of the group blurted out.

Atobe stared. A moment with dramatic incredulity. Which soon turned to a glare. "Jiroh if ore-sama wanted for your opinion, ore-sama will say, 'Jiroh, what do you think?'"

"But I thought you asked us a question?" He pouted frustratedly.

"Rhetorical, Jiroh, rhetorical." The diva seethed.

Gakuto, sensing the stupidity of the moment, decided to turn the subject away onto more intellectual matters. "But is it really that bad If Fuji likes someone? He never has, right? It might be good for him." The redhead stared at the mug in his hands, and discreetly glanced up at Atobe to gauge his reaction.

The other swept a single hand through one side of his hair and let a sigh escape. "It probably would be were it not Tezuka. The very man our fathers are dead set against. Shall ore-sama enlighten you on Romeo and Juliet, dear Gakuto?"

"Nah. I hate that dramatic shit." Gakuto's blunt reply to Atobe's suggestion was a shatterpoint in the diva's great vision of beauty. He was, after all, a huge romantic and a fan of Shakespeare.

"But whatever. It's not like I don't know where you're going at. But honestly? I for one never figured out why Seishun-kai was so bad in the first place. If Fuji is good enough, he might be able to work this to our advantage, as well as gain what he wants. It's win-win for us. For everyone, really. Well, maybe not for society in general. But who cares about that?"

Oshitari decided not to point out the blatant fact that society most likely cared about society. And society was the general population of the world. Oh well.

Atobe pouted. In an awe-like and diva-esque fashion. "Ore-sama still does not approve. Fully. But ore-sama does want Fuji to be happy. So ore-sama will let this matter sit and develop for a while. Meeting adjourned." He then swiveled around and briskly exited the room, leaving the remaining occupants to sit around idle.

"So…does this mean we are now officially the Fuji-love-life-committee?" Jiroh asked innocently.

Gakuto and Oshitari both smacked him.

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Ryoma did not know what he was doing in Japan. It seems to him that that stupid father of his had a spontaneous whim and sent his sons away so he could spend a year or so, reading his 'magazines' in peace.

He shrugged however, at the notion of yakuza-dealings. School was boring to him. Maybe this new aspect of his life could prove things more interesting. His thoughts are quickly distracted, however, as a Himalayan cat leapt up onto his lap and licked tentatively at the vanilla ice cream in his hands.

He blinked.

It meowed.

Before Ryoma could retort, the cat jumped out of his lap as quickly as it came. It strutted out the door with its fluffy tail swishing high and proud in the air.

The younger Echizen sibling almost pouted, but that quickly disappeared at the door opened to reveal a spiky-haired man.

"Oi, Echizen!" He leaned against the doorframe, his hand still resting on the doorknob. "Buchou said it was time for you to get 'aquainted'. Basically I'm stuck with touring you around these parts. Ryoga's getting the same treatment from Kikumaru-senpai. Be thankful you're not him." He finished solemnly with a ill look.

Ryoma frowned, but complied. "Usu…" was his simple reply as he hopped off the drying machine –why he was there, Momoshiro had no clue – and followed the taller boy out.

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He was currently keeping a long stride in front of the other. It seemed to Tezuka that there had been no shortage of embarrassing moments in the past two months since Fujiwara Syuusuke came to Seigaku. The Velcro incident aside – he still did a mental groan whenever that thought was brought up – this incident really should've taken the prize.

Fuji had kindly offered to help out with sorting a few Student Council materials. So, the two of them made their way to the student council room. Today, there were several other members there – vice-president Hara-san, treasurer Kitayama-kun, so Tezuka figured he would be safe from his classmate's usual advances.

And indeed, Fuji had been merciful enough not to try anything.

Unfortunately, Tezuka's usual mental capacity was not at full-throttle.

Hara and Kitayama had been carrying on a pointless debate about the 'definition of masculinity'.

Hara-san, who was an avid fangirl of the Jrock band, Alice Nine, argued that it was "perfectly fine" for guys to be "cute", and that after all, "buff-guys with bulging six-packs on six-packs" were "out-of-style".

Kitayama-kun, who feels he himself is very masculine, pointed out that defining a guy as "cute" was "an insult to men everywhere". It was unruly and "very un-masculine".

Thus their debate debacle carried on for a full twenty minutes until Tezuka could no longer stand it and decided to end this nonsense.

"Nao-chan is cute!"

"He's a guy! Guys can't be 'cute'! AND he's 27!"

"He's 24! And sure they can! It's not a bad thing! Nao-chan is still a MAN. Much more so than you. He's so cool playing the drums! That's manly! But he's also cute!

"That's ridiculous."

"You're just scared because people often call YOU cute!"

"...That's a lie."

"Face it, cutie-pie. You're masculinity points have gone down the drain!"

"...It's an insult."

"It's not! Guys can be adorable!"

"No they can't!"

"Syuusuke is cute." Tezuka interrupted.

"..."

"..."

Tezuka made a small noise of frustration. He really didn't know what was running through his mind. Syuusuke-kun, obviously. His mind supplied. He just wanted them to stop bickering and give him some peace and they were arguing about the dumbest thing ever and he just said the first thing in his mind and that was that the tensai was cute.

Of course, Hara-san proceeded to cackle rather gleefully, while Kitayama could do nothing but stare at his senpai.

The only consolation Tezuka had was the fact that Fuji had the grace to look a bit embarrassed himself, a light pink endearingly dusting his cheeks. This didn't last for long, however, as the latter soon recovered and began to tease him mercilessly for his words.

It wasn't teasing different from the usual, and the brunt of it came when they were out of the earshot of Hara and Kitayama. Still, Fuji's relentless comments of 'Saa...Tezuka...so all this while you were just playing hard to get...' and 'Tezuka, you don't have pictures of me, do you?' and 'I think light pink would be the perfect color theme for our wedding, no?' just kept on coming and coming and eventually, Fuji grew bolder and pushed too hard.

That coupled with Tezuka's already growing stress turned out to be too much for him.

'Do you like me?'

Tezuka froze. Not because of the phrase, but because of the tone. So many things...bombarded him at once. But he refused to delve into it, and instead, quietly told Fuji to stop this nonsense and walked on ahead. By the time Fuji followed suit, Tezuka was already strides in front of him.

Finally, as they came to an intersection with the passenger sign at red, Tezuka had no choice but to stop. Fuji gracefully came up behind him, standing side by side. He didn't speak, so Tezuka chanced a glance to his right.

The tensai did not look as if Tezuka's remark phased him, and was staring intently ahead.

As the light turned green, Tezuka jumped at the opportunity to put distance between them again. This time, however, he found himself unable. Fuji had caught up with his long strides and was now walking with him.

"Tezuka? Why are you walking so fast?"

Tezuka almost groaned out loud, not wanting to answer the question. But he complied with the unstated request and shortened the distance of each step, slowing down to Fuji's pace.

For a few seconds, neither said anything.

Then, Fuji broke it. "Tezuka. I'm sorry about making you feel uncomfortable earlier."

This surprised the taller greatly, causing him to stop and turn. He frowned in question, deciding to play dumb. "I do not know what you are referring to."

The honey-blonde youth raised a brow at the nearly-childish remark and pulled him off to the side of the pavement, under a row of large trees. "Tezuka. I'm sorry for teasing you. I was just…I don't know. What you got angry for, though-"

"I wasn't angry."

"I know. What I mean is...well...do you? Do you like me?" Fuji asked hesitantly.

Tezuka didn't know what to say.

"It's ok. You don't have to answer. Even if it wasn't teasing, it was a rather unfair question." He smiled.

"Unfair?"

Fuji nodded and then paused. "It's unfair of me to ask you that question when I wouldn't know what to answer myself should you have directed that question at me." His features then grew uncertain. "Meeting you…has brought up new feelings, ones I am unfamiliar with. No, wait, let me finish. I'm not sure if it's that sort of a feeling, but I do know that you've definitely had a certain effect on me." Fuji bore a look of contemplation. He pursed his lips before continuing again.

"I'm not…your everyday high school student, Tezuka. I haven't really grown up in an average environment. And I have to say that…you're the first true friend I've made on my own." At this, Fuji gave a meek, but sincere smile. It was tender and full of affection, and Tezuka felt his heartbeat flutter at the sight of it.

"And since I've never really experienced enough to differentiate these feelings, I can't say if I like you as a friend or… So that's why, back there, the question…sort of just came out." He hurriedly added on. Tezuka frowned, and Fuji frowned as well after the words flew out of his mouth.

"…just came out?" Tezuka echoed in question.

"Well…I'm not exactly sure what it was, but I think I wanted to see how you would react." He smiled faintly. He then muttered to himself, "Keigo always said I was too spontaneous sometimes…" He looked rather sullen at this.

"Keigo?" Tezuka found himself questioning again. God, what was he, a parrot?

Fuji smiled. "We grew up together. He was my first real friend, and until now, my only good friend. Although that was more because our fathers knew each other well."

"Ah." The stoic captain replied. 'Keigo…most likely Atobe Keigo…' He thought warily, feeling a sinking reminder in his heart of his duty and position.

"These…last two months have been…wonderful, Tezuka. I don't know how much longer I am staying though, what with my father's job and all-" A lie. "-which is probably why I've been so…pushy lately." The tensai eyed at him with somewhat of an abashed look. "Anyways. I just wanted you to know how I felt." Fuji then grasped the other's hands and gently held them within his own. "I like you. A lot. And at the very least, as a very good friend. Please remember that." He finally ended with a small smile of content lingering on his lips. His eyes, however, held volumes of more conflicting emotions.

With silence as his only response, Fuji softly untwined his hand from Tezuka's, reluctant to let go. He lingered for a while more, as if expecting, and hoping that Tezuka would reach up and grab his hands, willing him not to leave.

'Do it you stupid fool!' The voice in Tezuka's mind bellowed, yet he was frozen to the spot.

Taking his lack of response as a denial of sorts, Fuji finally retracted his hand and turned away. He stopped only briefly to bid Tezuka a small 'Ja', and then left.

"I might as well walk with you." The brunette found himself uncharacteristically blurting out the second time that day.

Fuji stopped and slowly turned to him with surprise evident in his features.

"My house is that way, after all." Tezuka stated as a matter of fact, as if the other hadn't know this before from walking home with him.

For Fuji, a wave of relief washed over him, and he felt his day brighten at such a small, blunt, statement. "Of course."

With that said, the two continued their way in silence, but one that carried a peaceful and tranquil melody. Each was left to his own thoughts. Tezuka, however, found his thoughts and eyes wandering over to his companion to his left. Although his friend seemed content for the moment, he could feel an atmosphere of quiet dread encompassing the other. And Tezuka mentally sighed, closing his eyes for the briefest second.

He had the same problem. Fuji's semi-confession had come as a surprise. Whether it was good or bad, he was not sure. The Seishun-kai 'buchou' did admit that he shared the same feelings his companion described. However, to think of it is one thing. To bring these emotions to light…was a whole new experience. By acknowledging his feelings, whatever they were, for Fuji, he would also be acknowledging their positions in society. To understand, hold, and look on Fuji as a true friend, he would also be understanding, holding, and looking at his own enemy.

'Enemy?' He pondered. Was such a term befitting of the gentle, caring, and kind side of Fuji? Friend? Did that do justice to what Fuji does? Evading the law and rising to light by shadowing others? But what of himself? 'Am I justified?'. What is just? And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that feelings were never just nor unjust. They were simply never judged. They weren't meant to be.

And then he realized the depth of their friendship.

He was so lost in thought that when Fuji stopped abruptly in front of him, Tezuka nearly ran into the other. He started in surprise, looking keenly at the object of his thoughts. Fuji, however, wore a slight frown.

Something wasn't right. Observing his surroundings, Tezuka noticed that they had reached one of the emptier streets leading to the local playground. That wasn't what caught his full attention, however. What did was the group of figures on the playground, huddling around something. Or worse, someone. Tezuka couldn't recognize them, but he did have a clue as to what they were.

Tezuka guesses that they stood there long enough for one of the group members to notice their presence. When they did, and alerted everyone else, an unruly-haired man stepped out from the group.

"Ah! What a pleasant coincidence! It's been a while, hasn't it, Tezuka?" He smirked at the brunette. His eyes were bloodshot red. Specks of blood adorned his cheeks, and he licked at it provocatively.

'This is a really bad movie scene...' Tezuka thought grimly as he stole a quick glance at a poor man quaking on the floor of the playground, where the group was previously huddled. Anger boiled up in him. He took back the claim of not knowing who they were. "Kirihara." He stated, staring straight at the leader of the pack.

Kirihara stirred and bristled at the mention of his name. His eyes shined a metallic red, like a sword that has drank blood after blood. "Yes…congrats on remembering. Do you also remember our last encounter, and how that ended?" He seethed in fury.

Tezuka didn't move. Beside him, Fuji frowned.

"You think you own it all, don't you, Tezuka? You know…I don't really like how you put yourself above the rest of us, acting as if you have a right to judge us. Why not accept that you're the same as us?" Kirihara cackled.

"Tezuka, let's go." The addressee turned his attention to Fuji, who was glaring at the unpleasant company.

Tezuka nodded, albeit reluctantly. He knew Kirihara would not let this go. However, it would be best if he didn't talk. Anything he said would no doubt worsen the situation. Plus Fuji was here…

…he knew the other was probably fully capable of defending himself if need be. But he did not like dragging the other into his affairs. Especially when these affairs lead to the business likely dealing with the yakuza, namely, Fuji's father. He inwardly groaned. Doesn't that mean that it all lead back to Fuji anyways?

Kirihara, noting Tezuka's distracted state of mind, seized the opportunity and took the initiative to attack. His groupies also took heed of the unspoken command and surrounded them with bats, metal rods, and –Tezuka could catch a glimmer of silver – knives. He mentally cursed. In daylight? Ah...Kirihara always like to play dirty.

Although Kirihara talked big and acted big, he was no match for the young Seishun leader. Tezuka easily evaded his swing, and efficiently executed a jab into his stomach. Kirihara growled like a dog, and his eyes pulsed an eerie red. He gathered himself up again, and stalked towards the brunette, a leer of crazed madness evident in his eyes. A couple of his followers took cue and surrounded Tezuka from behind.

Tezuka gave a quick glance over to Fuji and saw the other knocking a member onto the ground and turning around to block an oncoming punch. A flicker of silver brought his attention back to Kirihara, who was now carrying a knife and licking at it caringly. "Well, Tezuka…what if I say that you are the injustice to law, and need to be banished? My boys are hungry and so very eager to do the right thing. What about it boys? Up for a game of Cops and Robbers? Or should I say, Cops and Robber?" He cackled insanely at having cornered the Tezuka.

Tezuka only scowled and prepared himself for any attacks. He mentally noted the three standing behind them, predicting them to be the first to jump in. And so they did. Tezuka gracefully countered all their immediate attacks, sending them sprawling onto the ground. He turned around to deal with another attack from the side, still keeping careful notice of Kirihara's actions.

What he didn't notice, or rather, wasn't quick enough to do anything about, was one of the thugs he had knocked down earlier. He suddenly felt a searing jolt of pain temporarily numbing his left shoulder. The punch he meant to deliver was suddenly cut off by the blow to his arm.

In a sudden haze, he only managed to knock down his attacker, and for the moment his attention was diverted, failed to notice Kirihara's lunge at him.

Fuji had been dealing with things on his side fairly calmly. Having grown up as the son of a yakuza boss, he had been taught all modes of self-defense and a wide range of weaponry. Of course, dealing with the business aspect, he had also been well educated in diplomacy, politics, and economics. So it wasn't a difficulty for him to fluently counter all of his opponent's poorly executed throws, kicks and punches. He elegantly maneuvered himself through, dodging and striking at the precise moments obtainable only after years of practice.

Definitely a whole level above your average street thugs. And although Kirihara's group – Fuji had caught the name amidst their conversation – carried weapons, they weren't of danger since their bearers were not capable of inflicting any devastating blows. Their stances were completely off and the way they randomly threw all of their weight into one punch without steadiness only called for them to be thrown off their feet and slammed painfully into the ground.

The swift tensai had noted with a hint of adulation at the way Tezuka carried himself throughout the skirmish. Every action the stoic man made was perfect, precise, and efficient. Just as his personality dictated. He saw the man's eyes flicker momentarily in his direction, and felt himself gaining the other's approval of some sort. Fuji smirked in response, turning around to parry a blow.

However, the haughty tone of malice and arrogance belonging to one Kirihara soon reached his ears. And as he pivoted to find Tezuka, he saw the other grimacing as a metal rod connected with his shoulder. His companion seemed to be stumbling slightly, when he threw down his attacker. His eyes seemed unfocused as he scowled at the figure in front of him.

And the next thing Fuji knew, both he and Kirihara were lunging at Tezuka. Kirihara, with his bloodshot eyes in a frenzy of bellicose excitement, and Fuji in an attempt to intercept it.

Although the dark-haired youth was quick on his feet and started like a wild beast, Fuji was quicker, and managed to grab the hand that held the knife. It then became a struggle of strength. One area Fuji wasn't as advantageous in. Kirihara, in his blood-lust haze, was soon easily overpowering the young yakuza member. It was only with superior intellect and agility that Fuji managed to turn the tables and utilize the one split-second he let Kirihara win their strength struggle to evade quickly and deliver a fatal blow to the back, knocking the air out of his opponent. Then, even quicker than one could react, he kicked the knife out of Kirihara's hands, and then forced the other into a position of submission and defeat.

The rest of the group, now either on the ground or crawling up, stopped their feeble attacks as they saw their leader defeated by Fuji. Tezuka, who had now regained his full senses, walked over to Kirihara, bent down, and whispered fiercely, "You can do one of two things. Either leave and take your activities elsewhere, or cease it altogether. And if you think you can use such a lowly tactic of conquering me while I'm alone, don't bother. Seishun-kai is still Seishun-kai with or without its leader. And as long as I am alive, you will never be able to step even into the grays of law, and not suffer the consequences. Tezuka was furious. A dark glint in his eyes shown, and Kirihara knew he was serious. He had all too often seen that glint of fury in his own eyes in the mirror. But Tezuka's anger was cool, controlled, and very well directed at one source: him. And that made him more dangerous than he himself had ever been. Feeling a sense of fear the first time in a long while, Kirihara could only tremble in silent rage. But his fear subdued his thirst for vengeance, for redemption.

Slowly but tensely, he felt the pressure on his arms disappear, and the intensity of rage in Tezuka's eyes evaporate. In his place, the stoic captain of Seishun no Chuuseki regained control. It summoned up every little ounce of willpower Kirihara had left to not run away as his instincts screamed at him to. He gradually stood up with the support of one of his members, and gave a nod of reluctant respect and turned to leave.

Watching the band of companions walk away, Tezuka sighed and rubbed his temples. His sudden rush of emotions and then the purging of them left him weary, exhausted, and pissed off as hell. After he cleared his mind from the blow to his shoulder, he had seen Fuji intercepting the lunge that was meant for him. And as he saw Fuji's momentary drop of guard, everything seemed to be slowed and amplified. He had never felt his mind thrown into such a red panic as right then, as that one moment when Kirihara was fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to draw blood from the honey-blonde.

Something inside him snapped, infuriated, and in his blindness he had almost overlooked the fact that Fuji soon had Kirihara pinned to the ground. Quickly subduing the rest of the thugs, he slowly advanced towards the black-haired gang leader now forced on the ground.

He had forced his body to calm, to cool, to recollect in terms of sensibility. But he knew his eyes betrayed his inner rage. And he readily and gladly turned them on Kirihara. Tezuka carefully promised him, that should the other ever do something he himself deemed unjust, he would face the young leader's own wrath. And he saw the fear evident in the other's eyes. And he knew he had his point driven across.

Tezuka could only watch in bitterness as Kirihara walked away scotch-free. He then let out a shuddering sigh, shaking off the leftover anger and reigning in his rampant emotions. Then, feeling eyes on his back, he turned to find Fuji smiling at him.

"That was a good choice you made there, Mitsu-kun. I'm proud of you. I don't think I could ever do that." He added with slight remorse. He never knew that this little comment would cause Tezuka much pain and thought later.

For now, Tezuka allowed himself a small tug of the lips at Fuji's words.

That tranquil moment quickly passed however, as reminder of the lunge flooded Tezuka's mind. He reached out and grabbed Fuji's arm, a little rougher than expected.

Fuji only hissed slightly as the other grabbed his arm, Tezuka set about to check his injury. After making sure the wound wasn't serious, his features relaxed a little, though concern was still obvious. "We should probably get this wrapped up."

The tensai nodded, head slightly woozy as adrenaline receded and the small pain of his injury getting to him. Tezuka saw this and reached out to grasp the tensai's shoulder. The honey-blonde waved off his assistance and smiled his thanks. "I'm fine. Thank you. I think we can take refugee at my apartment. It's the closest. You need your shoulder looked at as well."

Tezuka nodded, and both began the journey home.

Their walk was silent, much like previously before their minor distraction. Both enjoyed the still night air and gentle calls of the gulls far away. Fuji seemed to be pouting every few seconds with disdain, engrossed by the mess he had made out of his uniform.

Tezuka noted this strange behavior with amusement, though his main concerns lay in what he would say when he returned home. With a grimace, he imagined Oishi's reaction. His vice-captain would not like this one bit. No doubt he would begin fretting over his shoulder. Being reminded of his own small injury, he slowly rotated his left arm, checking for mobility and any possibility of damage. Besides the twinge of soreness, he could feel nothing wrong. Everything was in working order.

"We're here." Fuji's voice called him out of his reverie, and he glanced up to find himself standing in front of an apartment complex. Swiftly, Fuji punched in a few numbers which opened the apartment gates. The leader of Chuuseki glimpsed at his companion and he caught the exhaustion sweeping over the tensai.

He withheld the urge to lend a helping hand, for he knew that sometimes, aid was not only unnecessary but insulting. The honey-blonde had proved himself more than capable today, and Tezuka had no wish to tread on his pride. Still, it'd be better to keep an eye on him. He had lost a bit of blood.

Soon, after making their way up six flights of stairs – the elevator was broken, much to their ire, Tezuka and Fuji arrived in front of a green, wooden door labled '604'. Briefly, Tezuka heard Fuji cursing his misplaced key. Finally, after a minute or so, the key was pulled out triumphantly from Fuji's bag, and the tensai proceeded to jam it into the keyhole. Before he had been able to turn it however, the door swung open on its own and Fuji found himself falling through the doorframe.

Fortunately, a hand reached out and caught him. Unfortunately, he was caught by his injured arm. With a sharp intake of breath, Fuji whipped around, ready to berate the intruder of his apartment. He had a good hunch who it was and that only irked him to no end. "Keigo." He tone was challenging. Atobe noticed it and conceded, letting go.

Tezuka looked from Fuji, to the silver-haired man now standing in the doorway. The intruder gave him a sarcastic grin and bowed melodramatically. "I am Atobe Keigo, and Ore-sama welcomes you, to our humble abode, Tezuka Kunimitsu." He addressed mockingly.

Tezuka scowled, but obliged, entering the small apartment so that the door could now be shut.

"My apartment, Keigo. Not yours. Now get out." Fuji nearly seethed at the other. He was obviously not in the mood.

The diva matched Fuji's glare. With a low growl, he grabbed Fuji by the arm – this time the uninjured one – and dragged him off to the side, away from Tezuka. "Two months, Syuusuke. TWO. MONTHS. What the hell were you doing? You haven't met up with me once in these two months. Phone calls don't count, Syuusuke. Ore-sama has been waiting and where were you frolicking about?" Atobe hissed in anger, and a bit of hurt.

Fuji gave him one last glare, and then refused to meet his eye. He exhaled noisily. In exasperation, or in an attempt to calm, nobody knew. "I know. But just for now, please leave. I'll talk to you later." He then shut his eyes, willing away the oncoming headache.

Tezuka started at the sight, but Atobe was quicker to jump on the issue. His eyebrows creased in worry. "You're hurt." He stated, addressing what he had previously ignored in his anger.

Fuji shrugged, the ire evaporating from his features. He was tired.

Atobe stood for a second, uncertain of what to do. Obviously, the other needed some medical attention, but also obvious was the fact that Fuji wanted him out. No. doubt due to their guest's presence. A little pained by the idea that Fuji no longer required his support, Atobe gave a small nod and turned to walk out the door. Stopping beside Tezuka, the diva said, "Medicine box is in the kitchen, first cabinet from the left." Then, in a low warning tone, he pulled the other closer, he spoke, "Don't try anything funny. Ore-sama will personally hunt you down if you do. I believe you know what I mean." He sent one final penetrating glare, before exiting.

Tezuka could feel a sigh coming up. He knew what the other meant. By now, both sides knew who the other was. And Atobe wasted no time in presenting his distrust of the Seishun leader. His distrust itself, though, was unnecessary. Tezuka didn't think he would be able to bring willing harm to the lithe yakuza heir, no matter how different their stances were.

Following Atobe's instructions, Tezuka easily located the first aid kit, and brought it over to the kitchen table. Looking around for Fuji, he found the other emerging from the bathroom, arm now cleansed of any dirt and grime. It still required disinfecting, though.

Plopping himself down on a nearby chair, Fuji felt a tiny smile creeping onto his face as he murmured his gratefulness to Tezuka. The latter efficiently took some antiseptic and gently patted the cut, which by now had turned a nasty horde of colors. Fuji breathed in sharply as the disinfectant stung at his injury, but he didn't jerk or move his arm.

He had felt somewhat embarrassed by the situation, really. Having another attend to his wounds was…awkward for him. Still, the feeling of Tezuka's firm but reassuring touch on him felt exhilaratingly cool and flaming at the same time. Before he had realized, his arm was already wrapped up nicely in a roll of bandage. He flexed his fingers and found the pain to be completely gone.

Attempting to locate where his 'doctor' had disappeared off to, Fuji heard a sound coming from the kitchen behind him. He raised an eyebrow and withheld a chuckle as he rested his eyes upon a figure trying to light the stove.

He smiled and entered the kitchen to prevent his guest from lighting up the entire room. "Mitsu-kun, if you are that close when you light the stove, your face will get burned off." His half jesting half warning comment carried over in a melodious manner, and Tezuka seemed mortified by the idea of such a thing happening. Well, as mortified as the stoic man could be.

This time, Fuji did chuckle. His guest was entertaining.

"Thank you for your help. How is your shoulder?"

"It's nothing. I have a personal physician at home."

Fuji stared. His expression suddenly turned dark. "Come on, Mitsu-kun...I won't bite..."

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An hour and a half later, after Fuji poked and prodded Tezuka through the shirt (he refused to take it off) and Tezuka promised Fuji to get his shoulder looked over as soon as he got home, Fuji bid his guest farewell. He had offered Tezuka the night – he had an extra guest room of course – but the other had adamantly refused, muttering something about 'home' and 'worrywarts'. Fuji smiled in response, and released his guest from further stay. He reemphasized his thanks and ended it with a small teasing kiss on the taller man's cheek. It wasn't even an actual kiss. More of a friendly, brush of the lips kind. But Tezuka felt the full force of blood rushing up to the spot he had been kissed. He hurriedly murmured a 'good night' and left.

As the son of Fuji Keisuke closed the door, his gentle smile dropped. Peering into the darkness of the kitchen, he noticed the small flashing of his phone set. He sighed and dragged himself over, pressing the message playback.

Beep.

"Syuusuke. How are you?"

'As fine as I can be without you hanging over my head…' Fuji thought bitterly. He knew who it was immediately, and dreaded to listen to the rest of the message.

"How is that classmate of yours? I heard you were getting along quite well."

Fuji winced. The tone was accusing. His father knew. His father always knew…

"I would appreciate some feedback, sometime. I miss my son's contact. Please do not deprive your father of it."

Beep.

"End of messages." The clipped mechanic voice of the headset siphoned out.

Fuji sighed, burying his face in his hands.

He had been so happy neglecting his duty to his father. He winced at the word 'neglecting'. But that was what it was. Truth to say, he had observed Tezuka superbly. He noted every little detail, every habit. The way he sipped tentatively at his afternoon tea, the way his glasses rested firmly three quarters down his nose…the miniscule tint of worry he had seen this afternoon, and the gentle, soothing eyes when they were simply friends, doing whatever it was that friends did.

He groaned. Dazed, he entered his room. There, without turning on the lights, he let himself fall face-down on the bed.

He was so screwed over...

Why did it have to be Tezuka? What even was 'it'? Was 'it' referring to his nemesis, the leader of Seishun-kai? Was 'it' referring to…what his heart wanted? Was it both? And if it was, what was he to do? Did he obey his father? Did he disobey? Would he do anything at all? Did he have to do anything at all? Would his father possibly…

Making up his mind, Fuji sat up and reached for the bedside phone.

Dialing a number he was too familiar with, he waited for the dial tone to connect.

A click indicated the line was picked up.

"Syuusuke." Brief and to the point.

Fuji took a short breath. "Father."

"Ah...I was worried you wouldn't call me at all."

"Iie…of course not…There was just a lot of school stuff." He hoped the excuse would suffice.

"Is that so?" His father's tone wasn't accusing. Not yet.

"Ah...I've been rather involved with the newspaper club. I managed to snap many good shots thanks to their sponsorship..." And he continued off that tangent for five minutes. On photography, on the environment, on the brilliance of the student body...on everything but Tezuka.

When that subject was exhausted, his father asked about his health.

"Hai…I'm fine, Father."

"No…of course not…" He began fiddling with the corner of his pillow nearby.

"I-"

"Yes."

"No. I…"

"What do you know about Tezuka Kunimitsu?" His father's voice was now firm and demanding. The tone dictated authority. He closed his eyes, preparing an answer.

"He is a good classmate. But as a person, it is difficult to tell. Tezuka Kunimitsu is very well guarded. He is capable of defending himself if necessary. He has a strategic mind and is very perceptive." None of this was a lie. Fuji drew in a quiet breath. He just had to keep this up for a little more.

He could practically feel his father's frown through the phone.

"Is that all?" His voice bit in disappointment and suspicion. The latter of the two was what put Fuji's guard up.

"As I have said, he is a difficult person to read. There are little to no weaknesses," '…except you know he has a tickle spot only right below his right ribs…you know that he sometimes has nightmares at night, no matter how composed he is during the day…you've seen him worry over you…care about you...' his mind sneered and taunted. Fuji concentrated hard, features drawn in deep focus. "…he…may not be as versatile in weaponry…" 'Wrong. You've seen him fight today. He is well capable in defending against a blade, a rod. Obviously, if he knew how to defend against it, he knows how to use it. Wield it. So are you lying to your father now, Syuusuke? How very bold…'

Fuji felt as if he were submerged in an icy bath after having been smothered up in a sauna for an hour. He was sure his father knew he was lying now.

Amazingly, he was able to keep the trembling out of his voice, making it sound more as though he were in deep contemplation rather than nervousness. "We ran into a minor skirmish today...he has been trained in martial arts and is rather skilled." Fuji threw out the crappy, piece of information.

"Skirmish? Are you alright?"

As if you really care. "Yes." He paused, finally managing to regain a sense of composure. "Tezuka has a strong sense of justice. If anything, his weakness is the weak. For his sense of justice, he'll do anything. Even as stoic as he seems, Tezuka can get rash if angered." 'Not that easily angered. And the one time he was…it was concerning you.' The voice chided. "Anger is always a good way for manipulation."

Silence on the other end.

"I don't know much about his network capabilities. He knows much. He is definitely intelligent and well educated in the workings of society. I'm assuming he has extensive connections. He does have a more intimate connection with the Seigaku school board. Though I don't know the extent." A lie. "Maybe he is bluffing, but he seems rather ignorant when it comes to gang activities." Lies, lies and more lies.

Fuji closed his eyes. What was he doing? Lying to his own father? Lying to the most dangerous yakuza boss in all of Kyoto, who could see through a lie as easily as you could spot an elephant in the living room?Shi t, he was losing his composure again.

"Hmm…do not worry about his connections. I will have my other men see into that. Just watch him. Know him, Syuusuke. So that you may use him."

"Yes, Father…"

"…well, thank you, son. I assume you would never hide anything from me. And should you happen to have forgotten a detail, I'll assume it is the pressure of a new environment. Take care, Syuusuke."

Fuji had frozen by the time his father said 'hide'. The rest of the sentence was a blur, and he didn't even notice his father had hung up until the dial tone blared in his ears.

Numbly, he returned the receiver to its headset, and flopped down on the bed, massaging his temples.

Then, he curled up on his side, hugging himself in vain for a feeling of security. Suddenly, all of his previously subdued fears came rushing into him. Everything he had ignored earlier, now broke through and smothered him in the darkness. He curled up tighter, biting his lips as his heart sunk to his stomach in bitterness.

'Ne, Tezuka…what would you do if you were me?'

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A/N:

Hey more TezuFuji interactions at last! Took me long enough. The camera strap? I know, not a very big turn on. . My creative juices weren't flowing. I already wrote half of that scene when I was like, 'Hmm…what does Fuji need help with?'. So yeah. They could've been practicing tennis moves, but then I would have to bring tennis into this. Didn't feel like it.

One more thing. Was Fuji too OOC? I didn't want to make him look too weak and rely all on Tezuka (in the fight and later on), but I did want some degree of 'Tezuka caring for Fuji'-ness. So yeah.

Well, thanks for reading! Please review!