Disclaimer: PoT isn't mine. I'm merely playing with the characters.

Note: This fic was actually written and posted on lj about a year ago. Inspiration was partly found in Hetalia, partly in seeing one particular scene in one of the PoT OVAs, that shows Tezuka in a library looking at books in German - and one of the titles ("der Jude") did cause me to wonder what the animators had been thinking. Afterwards, the idea of "so, what if Tezuka had gone for tennis training to Germany in 1939?" was born.

I realize that this fic alludes to very sensitive topics, and tried my best to work with them - though feel free to tell me, if you feel issues aren't handled well. That said, I hope you enjoy reading.

*Untitled*

Snowflakes danced in front of a grey, rapidly darkening sky. It wasn't even November.

"You need to leave," Worry distorted the woman's usually warm features. Darkness lurked close behind those pools pupils.

Fuji pressed his lips together and carefully turned to gaze at Tezuka. Who merely kept watching the peaceful scene on the street outside of their small shop.

"You should hurry," She insisted. "It won't be…"

She trailed off and Tezuka curiously turned to her. "But isn't …"

"She's right," Fuji muttered. "There's no telling where all this will end."

"I know you're here on a scholarship, Tezuka. I know how much you stand to lose if you leave this country now – I know how important this is for your dream." She bit her lip and turned the "closed" sign around with the bright, cold ring of the bell.

"But you should think about it."

A last gust of cold wind swept through almost empty shelves.

Fuji shuddered. Just a month ago the weather had still been warm – not hot like back home, but comfortable. And when everything had started, the weather, too, had …

No, it all had started long before.

Tezuka might not have noticed…

But he had seen what had happened to the owner of the small stationary shop a little further down the street. He had lost count of how often he had woken up during the night to the sound of cars leaving.

And quiet, subdued sobbing.

"It's still far away," She said. "Right now there's probably no danger – or there shouldn't be. I don't know what is going to come of this…"

"We're not …" Tezuka started and Fuji whirled around. "We're foreigners. That might just be enough."

Their host smiled sadly. "Your friend is right. Regardless of political alliances, those guys in brown – they might not know the difference."

"They will get a lawsuit, certainly," Fuji added, sounding slightly bitter. "But of what use will that be if you're already…"

He stopped himself, an unusual frown on his face. Trying to restore his smile, Fuji sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll retire early tonight. I had a bad day."

And with that he left through the back door and soon Tezuka heard the steps of the old, wooden staircase creak.

"Your friend is mistaken for a girl often," The old lady supplied, not looking up from the counter she was cleaning. Hardly any fruits or vegetables were left – though there hadn't been many customers today.

'Less demand.' He recalled his host saying. 'With all boys and men in …'

Tezuka swallowed.

"It was not much of a problem before, and I … well…" She grimaced. "Soldiers will be soldiers, you know. Regardless of what colour their uniform is."

Tezuka glanced up, dread filled his chest.

However a split second later the darkness was gone from her voice and she asked him to collect the remaining goods.

People were cheering on the streets. The newspapers celebrated success after success and hardly had Fuji ever seen people more convinced.

Events appeared to prove them right.

Small articles concerned with his home country told the same stories. Pictures of sparkling uniforms, glittering medals and celebratory speeches to proclaim another victory. Tales of the evils defeated, of the hardships faced – who could, after reading those, possibly hold even a spark of sympathy for those miserable creatures who sometimes decorated the background of those pictures?

"Mr. Fuji?" A hoarse voice asked him.

They hadn't started wearing brown at the post office yet.

"Yes," Fuji attempted his best smile, hoping not to run into any further trouble. "I was notified a letter arrived for me."

"Hm," The old man grunted, leafing through a notebook. Fuji waited patiently.

Abruptly the man stopped and deep lines appeared on his forehead. "From France?" He asked loudly, as if offended.

Fuji didn't flinch, but he felt suspicious stares boring into his back.

"My father is currently at the Japanese Embassy in Paris," Fuji explained patiently.

The glare lessened, but didn't disappear. "I should check that, son," The man grumbled. "Can't trust anybody allied with those snail-eaters. But really, there's more important stuff to do currently, so I guess you're lucky and get your letter now."

He stood up, carrying all his seventy or eighty years heavily. Fuji caught sight of an old scar running down the back of his neck, while he bend down, muttering about "should just have…" and Fuji titled his head.

Fuji left the post office to an ice-cold, clear December Day. First Christmas decorations were being put up and he had to dodge around a group of children engaged in a wild snow-ball fight in the middle of the road.

Gloved fingers nervously tore open the envelope. Post delivery, his father claimed in the letter, was more difficult to arrange from France to Germany than from France to Japan.

Fuji's smile faded soon, and when he returned home he was glad Tezuka was out practicing tennis and wouldn't return until later, and their host was busy running the shop. He'd help out, usually, in order to repay her kindness letting the two of them stay, but today the letter had his attention.

He didn't even mind the cold that crept through the walls.

The letter's cheerful tone had not lasted long.

'The moment you read this letter, I will probably have already left France. Apparently our Intelligence has further information that indicates a closing of our embassy here is necessary – I don't know what they think or know will happen, but I fear it won't be good.

I only hope you are safe.'

Fuji swallowed.

The newspapers hadn't published any death tolls or negative stories. Yet.

'Enclosed is a letter your sister wrote to you. I have to admit to being too curious, but her letter to me left open too many questions. You will understand once you have read it. I probably will not see her once I return to Tokyo, as her fiancé has been transferred to Okinawa.

Thus said, I hope this letter finds you well. And all the best for the future.'

With shaking hands he tore open his sister's letter, his heart leaping at the sight of her beautiful writing. At least the steady flow of graceful strokes had not changed.

She had still not found time to marry, she wrote. Her fiancé was too busy with his assignments, lately. She barely saw him anymore.

And she was worried.

He'd started muttering to himself.

Kept a bottle of poison hidden in his uniform.

Just in case.

Fuji closed his eyes. She wanted him to retire, he knew. And he wholeheartedly agreed.

He had met his sister's boyfriend, three years ago. A kind-hearted scholar, curious to see the world, very well-educated. Fluent in four languages; Japanese, English, Korean and Chinese.

And how excited he had been when he had been drafted to China for translation services.

Fuji had not seen him after his return.

But the newspaper clippings, no matter how small here, how unclear the pictures and how glorifies the winners, told enough.

He hadn't yet dared to ask his sister just where her fiancé had been assigned.

"The trip home would be rather dangerous, considering the current political situation," Tezuka had said, pointing to an article with a large picture of an English Airplane. "And it would take long."

Fuji nodded and kept watching the seasons change from behind the counter. Sometimes they cracked jokes about just what Tezuka was training for – with the status quo his chances to get to Wimbledon were rather small after all.

Meanwhile more shops closed.

People disappeared.

Fuji learned how to sleep through motor noises at night.

And one beautiful morning in May, at breakfast their host broke a dreaded topic once again. "You two must leave the country. We've already waited far too long."

Tezuka raised an eyebrow. A cold shudder ran down Fuji's spine.

The darkness that they had seen once before appeared again on her face. "I spoke to an old acquaintance just before. There's been an air raid last night."

Fuji's eyes opened wide.

"Fools," She snorted to herself. "To believe nobody would fight back. It's the same as last time, all over again. Just other colours."

Her eyes grew distant, not seeing the blooming tree in front of the window outside. "It probably won't be long until it reaches us, too."

Dimly, Fuji recalled black and white pictures from an old album she'd shown them on one of those long, dark winter evenings. Smiling people with ruins for a background.

She caught his eye and her expression softened. "Cities are no longer safe."

That evening she returned late and looked exhausted. With a smile she sat down at the table Fuji had laid out for the three of them.

"I'm going to miss this," She said with a smile. "It was nice, this kind of family."

Her husband had died shortly after their marriage, almost thirty years ago, Tezuka had told Fuji. She had wanted to have a family, but couldn't find it in herself to remarry. So she had started hosting foreign visitors.

"But let's get down to business."

Tezuka set aside the butter.

"Kunimitsu, after some asking somebody told me there's another tennis training facility not far from here. Somewhere in the vicinity of Zurich and an acquaintance knows a couple who owns a house up somewhere in the mountains nearby."

She smiled. "It sounds reasonably safe. If you don't want to return to your country, you should go there. But if you want my opinion, I think the two of you should go home."

Darkness started falling outside. "This place has … a history of reducing itself to ashes on a regular basis, so you'd probably be safer elsewhere."

Fuji swallowed and shared a glance with Tezuka.

Neither of them felt like arguing.

"And you're sure you don't want to return to your home?" She asked Tezuka on the following day. He resolutely shook his head.

"I…" He hesitated.

Fuji glanced up from his book and nodded with a soft smile.

"As long as I'm not in Japan, I'm free to do as I want," Tezuka said, for the first time voicing a thought he had carried with him a long time. "If I return, I won't be playing tennis…"

"Ah, they're hunting down young men everywhere," she smiled sadly. "I guess it's better if you don't go, then."

Then she remembered her other guest. "Is … Say, Syuusuke, wouldn't it be better if you stayed, too? I'm sure I know somebody else who lives at a remote place – it's not guaranteed safety, but it's better than here."

Fuji smiled. "It's… well, my father is well-connected. If not for him I would not have been able to undertake this journey at all."

"He must be anxious to see you back, then," she replied. "With how the situation is developing, you should return as soon as possible."

"Kunimitsu, your train leaves in a week. I'm sorry but I couldn't arrange anything earlier." She said and then dropped a bundle of colourful papers on the desk.

"Syuusuke, I spoke to several people and I fear the trip to Japan will be rather strenuous. Most agree that taking the ship or a plane is too dangerous currently. The safest route is overland, though it'll probably take some weeks."

Tezuka's eyebrows shot up.

"I arranged a train ticket from here to Prague – it's far from being a safe place right now, but a friend of mine managed to procure another passport. That'll get you from Prague to Moscow. From there I've been told you can take the train to Vladivostok. And then a ship to Japan."

She sighed. "Honestly, it doesn't sound safe. Half of the places you have to pass through might be an open battlefield when you get there – are you certain you don't want me to try and find a remote place somewhere in the Alps for you to stay?"

Fuji shook his head complacently, a small, sad smile on his face.

"When does the train leave?"

"The day after tomorrow."

Tezuka wanted to scream.

Two days after Fuji had left, another letter from his father arrived. This one was delivered without a hatch, having been posted in Japan.

Tezuka frowned, but then opened the envelope.

He had not met Fuji-san often, but he had heard his own parents talk about him as a highly intelligent man, who had earned his high position.

The letter was hastily written, lacking formality, but…

'I hope this letter finds you well'

Tezuka pressed his lips together.

'I have heard there were air raids, but I have been reassured no or few casualties were suffered. While I would hope for you to confirm this, looking at what is happening here makes me worry.'

How was his own family; Tezuka wondered. His mother wrote regularly, but she kept her letters formal, and he had trouble reading between the lines. As far as he knew his grandfather was too old to be involved and his father was needed elsewhere.

'Yumiko's fiancé's health has taken a turn for the worse. Officials blame the heat – they wish to send him overseas once again and refuting their arguments is becoming difficult.'

His fingers trembled.

'Another piece of news I do not really want to deliver, but would feel worse keeping secret; Yuuta has decided to join the forces. I tried to offer him a position at the headquarters in Tokyo, but he claimed this was an insult to his honour.'

Maybe it was for the better Fuji had not seen this letter, Tezuka thought.

'While nowadays a statement as such might lose me all positions, I will openly say I worry. Yuuta is a good boy at heart and I fear what he will encounter out there. With all the reports I have seen on activities overseas, I wish I could stop him.'

And Tezuka wondered how his parents felt.

'Syuusuke, while I wish nothing more than to see my family together, safe and sound, I fear I must request the impossible of you.

Do not return.'

Tezuka's fingers went limp.

'Hoping this letter will not be read by anybody else than its intended receiver, I shall say while the situation is difficult now, it will probably become worse. A friend from the military shared a few details concerning their future plans on a recent after-work meet-up.

At times those make me wonder how long it will be until the air raids will reach us here as well.'

Images swirled in Tezuka's mind. Of green trees, the old, small houses they had passed on their way to the station two days ago. Of yellow and green fields, stretching endlessly; a clear blue sky overhead.

'As communication with allies so far away is getting more difficult from day to day, my knowledge of your situation is slim. I hope you will remain safe where you are, but in case anything happens and you need to leave the country – head north.'

Tezuka remembered the station, proud and majestic, filled with chatter and life and daylight.

'Northern countries might not stay uninvolved in what is to come, but the remote corners away from the ports, cities and border towns will be of little importance to anyone involved. Now, I do not know whether my advice will be of any help to you, if it is unnecessary or even contrary, but know I only want the best for you.'

A wide blue sky overhead.

'And one day, if we all get through this, I hope all of us will meet again.'

Tezuka squeezed his eyes shut and the letter crumpled in his hand.

Fuji's smile was soft and nothing in his demeanour betrayed any uneasiness. With the small leather suitcase he looked as if about to depart for a holiday on the countryside.

Tezuka couldn't help but look at him and remember the hidden pocket inside his coat bearing a second passport. Couldn't help recalling the adventurous route – and somehow his mind refused to accept the concept.

Half a year they had slept side by side.

A warm smile had greeted him everyday when he returned from practice – it ought to last forever, he had believed. Fuji's silent presence at his side had started feeling natural. And this parting now felt like a vital part being violently torn from his body.

He would pray for Fuji's safe journey.

But just looking at the newspapers…

He wanted to wrap his arms around Fuji and never let him leave. Keep him here, within his sight, to make sure nothing ever happened. Regardless if he had deluded himself before, ignored sideward glances and odd remarks about Fuji's effeminate looks – as long as Fuji was him, Tezuka was certain, he would be alright.

"I need to go," Fuji said with a smile and turned toward the platform.

Their host nodded, also keeping a determined smile on her face. "Your reservation is in car No.3. That must be somewhere near the end of the train."

In silence they walked down the platform.

Roof was replaced with bright sky and Tezuka blinked.

Before he knew it, Fuji stopped at a door. The paint was fresh, metal glittered blindingly in the sunlight. White curtains from an opened window fluttered in a cool breeze, and the weather couldn't have been more perfect.

"This is it," Fuji said and with the brightest smile Tezuka had ever seen, he added. "Thank you very much for everything. This last half a year was a splendid time. I only wish circumstances had been different, so …"

"Don't thank me," their host gruffly replied, drawing the slight boy into a tight hug. Teary eyed, she produced a nicely wrapped present from her purse.

"This is some provisions as well as something to read. You'll be a long time on the train, so use it wisely."

Fuji's smile tightened slightly. "I believe I know how to."

She'd stayed up late, last night, searching for something in the depths of old drawers. Tezuka wondered if things added up – and shuddered. Clenching his hands unconsciously, he stepped forward just as their host turned to leave.

"I'm too old for parting scenes," she commented. "I'll be waiting outside, Kunimitsu."

"I…" Tezuka set out and words failed him.

There was so much on his heart, but his mind couldn't find the words to express all his worries, fears, the gratefulness, the happiness and affection.

"I enjoyed this very much," Fuji said for him. "It was a wonderful time and I don't want to leave, but there's probably no other way."

Tezuka nodded mutely.

"Anyways, thank you for inviting me. Had I stayed back at home … I don't know where I'd be right now, but I doubt I'd have so many happy memories."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Tezuka muttered, unwilling to imagine any kind of a what-else. "And…"

"All passengers please board now!" An announcer called out. "The train bound for Prague is about to depart."

Something unspeakable welled up in Tezuka's chest, but Fuji suddenly threw his arms around his shoulders and drew him closer than they ever had been before. He could feel warm hands around his neck, fingers on his cheek, in his hair; heard Fuji's heart beating just as loud and frantic as his own.

And he buried his face in the crook of Fuji's neck, breathing in the sweet scent of freshly washed hair for the last time.

"Tezuka, I…" Fuji's voice was choked, his fingers trembled. "I… this…"

Tezuka pulled him closer, willing time to stop.

But he was no magician.

Fuji collected himself. "When this is over…" He shook his head, and took a step back, detaching himself from the embrace.

Only their hands remained connected, and then the train started moving.

"Let's meet again."

* Fin *

Please feel free to share your thoughts and impressions with me!