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Vicissitudes + Cliche


When does contact first occur, Fuji wonders. Is it when a stray atom from his arm happens upon one of Tezuka's and they bump, gently, violently, electrons whirring and spinning and pulsing- Or is it that first sensation, when the single nerve sparks and flares and says in a grand revelation Tezuka! and sends in a chain on a blazing path from his elbow to the stem of his brain, Tezuka, Tezuka, Tezuka!

Fuji doesn't know that it much matters, because there are things he will never understand, and here, with Tezuka's skin in a shiver of contact with his own, he will not be concerned with specifics.

Corporal Works

Sitting in the locker room, on the wooden bench he sees everyday but didn't think much of until now, Fuji feels Tezuka shift, a rotating plane in the yawning silence and ache of space, a stern boy in a track jacket.

Tezuka's tennis shoes clatter to the ground, laces streaming, then crumpling near the heel.

Fuji watches as Tezuka shrugs on the left, then the right, then tugs the sneakers into place, the line of his back sloping.

Fuji shifts.


Tezuka does not know what to say when Fuji, a breath from between his legs, reaches out with slender fingers to carefully lace one shoe, then the other, looking up with a lilting smile.

The floor of the clubhouse pushes on his knee caps, Tezuka's stare pushes on his sanity, Fuji's fingers skirt the rubber on Tezuka's shoe.


The rain slips from a yawning sky and hums, a drove of liquid bees, streamlined, wings beating, ricocheting off the roof of the clubhouse. The assault is deafening.

"If someone could just manage to kill the queen," Fuji mumbles.

Tezuka does not ask, only raises one eyebrow when, after the last tin echo fades and the downpour eases haltingly, Fuji briefly bows to honor the passing royalty.

Spiritual Works

There are days when Fuji is sure Tezuka can't see him. Tezuka appears to process everything meticulously in black and white, and Fuji is the most incorrigible shade of gray.

A faultless defect, attributed to nothing but the natural cadence of the universe, Tezuka's brand of colorblind.

But Fuji sees- the prize earned from so much watching, at morning practice, in the halls, at the lockers, at lunch, in the halls again, at afternoon practice-; Fuji's eyes are open even when they're not.

From behind a calculus text with his pen poised over a practice roster, Tezuka yawns.

, Fuji thinks.

Sheets of paper rustle, the student seated next to Tezuka pauses, as if to tap him on the shoulder, but swallows thickly and turns around again when Tezuka flips his pencil over and begins erasing, head bowed over the work, bangs spilling.

Assignments arc and pass behind Tezuka's back, a girl at the end stacks the papers.


Fuji erases his name from the upper left corner of his homework, penciling in ˜Tezuka Kunimitsu' and passing the paper to the center of the row with the others.

The teacher receives the stack of homework at the front of the class, and, leafing through it, sighs through her nose at the latest example of exasperating underachievement.

She casts a disapproving glance towards Fuji. 

It is the third time this month he has failed to hand in the homework assignment and she makes a small note in her teacher planner to call his parents.


During middle school, when he wasn’t playing tennis -in every sense of the phrase-, Fuji spent his time taking apart pens in the back of the classroom and copying the answers to the even problems from the back of the book.

In high school, it was much of the same, only then it seemed like his life was spent mistaking the gas and the brake petals, and waiting for the light to turn green.

“Tezuka, am I driving on the right side of the road?”

Tezuka’s head snaps up from the fold-out gas station map with a frown of disapproval, and Fuji is reminded of the taut spring of a click pen. Fuji spares a stretch of a smile.

He is only joking, -it doesn’t take a genius to determine the flow of traffic-, but Tezuka apparently didn’t put it past him.

He turns back to the road, where yellow stripes are sucked under his tires and everything bleeds together in his peripheral vision. 

Tezuka’s finger lingers on the tiny dot of their destination.

“Fifteen miles” is on both their breaths and lurking in the groan of the engine.

a/n: Warnings: Teh Convoluted Plot Device (TM)! And crack drabble, durr.
Cliched Kiss: Tenipuri

Wind rustled the trees overhead. A lone cicada chirped once, and then committed suicide, unable to handle the intensity of the moment. 

The regulars, assembled at the appointed fence to peer through the wire diamonds (they often did so randomly, out of habit), fell silent, turning their heads in unison towards two individuals. 

Fuji smiled, hands clasped lightly behind his back. 

Tezuka looked cross. "No, Fuji." 

Momo worked his jaw open and closed while he processed the unexpected admittance. 

Of all the bizzare events Momoshiro had ever stood witness to: the slight raise in price of the 4 pound burgers at BurgerWorld... 

Hyotei kidnapping Karupin in an attempt to emotionally damage Echizen (and unexpectedly Kaidoh) before an exhibition match... 

Fuji hovering outside the window of Momo's class room for three hours after vicious gossip suggested Momo was involved with Fuji's sister... 

-by far Tezuka-buchou having never been kissed was the most heinous of travesties. 

The fact that Fuji asked and that Tezuka answered tied for second. 

(Momoshiro's stake in the matter definitely did not stem from frustration that Tezuka wasn't using his assets to the fullest.) 

Inui, who inadvertently spurred the whole conversation, was not taking notes, and looked bereft for a moment without his notebook and pen. Instead, he focused all his might to committing exact details of the scene to memory, to be saved via tape recorder once he got home. 

He had developed a mild case of carpel tunnel and was under strict orders not to touch any writing instrument of any kind for up to a week. 

At least that's what the team told him, fed up with all the dirty laundry that had been aired after Inui 'accidentally' left volume 34.8 of his data in the student media center, and intimate and heavily-alluded-to details of their lives were broadcast by practicing newscasters. 

Fuji's natural curiosity was peaked by the fact that no details of Tezuka's personal affairs were revealed in the expose, and had begun shooting pointed personal questions at his buchou until said buchou's brow started twitching and he ground out a response. 

The manner with which the admission was made suggested that such a thing was preposterous, that there was no kissing in tennis, and that to do so would be a very good example of carelessness. 

Momo thought that perhaps, as socially stunted as their buchou was, he didn't realize that admitting that was just plain uncool. 

Kaidoh was blushing profusely; as one who often watched romantic comedies and got embarrassed for the characters, his cheeks were burning with mortification. 

Oishi's brow was furrowed in concern and Eiji had to glomp him to remain upright. 

It didn't matter that he had to go all around Taka to do it; Taka was too busy looking accusingly at Tezuka, as if to express extreme disappointment that he could no longer live vicariously through his buchou, as his buchou was equally sexually repressed. 

Oishi was caught off guard, even though when one's partner is Kikumaru Eiji frequent and often inappropriate touching is commonplace, and the two of them collapsed in a heap on the ground near Tezuka's feet. 

(Everyone dismissed this because when one's team members are the Golden Pair, such displays are also commonplace.) 

From there it was a train wreck. 

Fuji padded over to Tezuka and Tezuka, for all his great leadership and intellect, was oblivious of his intentions.

Fuji's brow pursed for a moment before he stepped onto the (Golden) twitching mass of Oishi and Eiji to gain height. Eiji squawked, and Tezuka would have too, if he wasn't Tezuka, because Fuji placed his hands on Tezuka's shoulders, leaned in, and kissed him. 

"As expected of Fuji-senpai," said Ryoma, smirk fully present and equally divided between buchou and senpai.

(His status as the series' protagonist makes him familiar with overworn plot devices, having worked the Champion Thine Enemies Through the Magical Power of Tennis angle for over 70 episodes and a handful of OVAs.)

Momo was pretty sure Tezuka did a remarkable job of portraying seriousness and composure, right down to keeping his arms fully crossed. 

When Fuji stepped back, however, Momo could have sworn he saw him skip, and Inui paused to momentarily to relax his Concentrated Inui Memory Gaze Deluxe. 

"Ah, so you've seen it too, Fuji?" 

To which Fuji nodded, and Momo was left in the dark. 

"Nyah, seen what, Inui?" 

Eiji bounded off the ground with vigor, only hastened by the latest developments and the fact that he was an avid enthusiast of any and all romantic developments. 

Oishi, on the other hand, picked himself up slowly, because this had almost been as bad as the time the pregnant lady threw herself at him. 

(Oishi's memory is rather selective.) 

Inui adjusted his glasses and an ominous gleam spread across them. 

"Probability Tezuka returned the kiss: 62 percent."

a/n: AND THEN TEZUKA BITCH-SLAPPED INUI. HARD. XD Get this post away from me.



( 12 comments — Leave a comment )
Dec. 9th, 2006 05:12 am (UTC)
XD That was cute~!

"Probability Tezuka returned the kiss: 62 percent."

Especially loved the last part.. *LOL* *waves TezuFuji banner*
Dec. 9th, 2006 09:18 pm (UTC)
Thanks so much!

Glad to see you're not leaving all the banner-waving to Taka. He tends to get overexcited. XD
Dec. 9th, 2006 07:41 am (UTC)
ROFL ...you slay me. XDDD


You so win at life for this one. *hearts* x1000000000000 over. :DDD
Dec. 9th, 2006 09:24 pm (UTC)
LOLZ I do what I can. XD Not only that, but I invented the internet.

*thanks* xGoogle over! =D
Dec. 10th, 2006 04:00 am (UTC)
Its much appreciated. :DD OMGZ you are my god. *______* I love the internet.

XD xInfinity over!
Dec. 9th, 2006 08:40 pm (UTC)

So, um, hi. I stumbled across your journal on a friend's flist, and since then, I've been stalking your fanfiction. Love your writing style. Mind terribly if I friend? ^^
Dec. 9th, 2006 09:38 pm (UTC)
OMG, I'm getting an ego the size of Pluto-the-not-planet. Thank you!

Friend away! (But I'm warning you- I'm the biggest dork. XD)
Dec. 10th, 2006 04:10 am (UTC)
Aww, you're not a dork, you're just adorkable 8D

Last line pwns, >D;;

★ :)
Dec. 10th, 2006 09:25 pm (UTC)
THIS IS IT- the gap in my vocabulary has just been filled- adorkable will now be used to describe everything in my life:

"How was your research paper grade?"
"It was death adorkable."
Dec. 10th, 2006 10:33 pm (UTC)
I filled in someone's gap, my life dream has been fulfilled ★

Happy to have been of service! >D♥
Jan. 14th, 2007 06:33 am (UTC)

this is exactly what keeps me holding onto fanfic reading for years.

expecting to read more from you, with the same writing style.
Aug. 11th, 2007 08:27 pm (UTC)
WOW to you too.

Seriously, I know I'm a -censored- for waiting half a year + to reply, but that's maybe the biggest compliment I've ever gotten. ♥

Thank you SO MUCH although I'm not sure I deserve it :D.
( 12 comments — Leave a comment )