Delayed Reaction - 3/?? - Tezuka
Atobe named all the number, figures, and facts quickly and in succession without hesitation. He had done his researched. He had tried to find any other way, praying and hoping that he could just not care. He looked away this time, “And I can’t let that happen. I can’t allow my personal feelings and preference to risk doing something that may take decades to repair within Japan’s economy. We have our hand in every major business in the world, and if the company goes down by the sole fault of an incapable chief executive, I don’t know if I can leave it be.”
He stopped abruptly, his voice losing its assured tone as he stopped his explanation. He felt disgustedly sentimental and pushed back a caustic laugh as he placed a soft kiss on silken skin Ryoma’s hand. “If I can prevent it, even if it means giving you all up, I have to take it.” ‘Because even as much as I want my happy ending, I can’t just look away.’
No one spoke afterwards, none of them knowing whether it was because they didn’t know what to say or whether they still hoped it wasn’t true.
Tezuka broke through the unsteady calm that settled over the group. “I understand,” he said, his voice retaining its natural calm though his hand shook despite his efforts. He reached his one free hand forward, pulling Atobe out of his chair to stand closer to him. “But,” his voice broke uncharacteristically as he trailed off, his hand now gripping Fuji’s equally tight, his other hand gently stroking the side of Atobe’s cheek.
Fuji finished for him, reaching a hand out to brush lightly against Atobe’s jawline, ““…Stay one more night, Keigo? Please?”
“For us,” Sanada said, a sad smiling gracing his lips as he reached out his hand. “Just once more for us.”
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“We, the jury, find the defendant guilty.”
Tezuka was snapping the bolts of his briefcase shut before the head juror finished her sentence. His neatly typed notes were carefully placed inside as they had waited for the outcome, precise handwritten notes scrolled along the margins. He flipped close the final brass-colored latch, the light clang of metal against metal resounding in his vicinity. He ignored the yells of the now-convict, the empty threats falling to deaf ears as Tezuka pushed his glasses up by habit with his left hand.
He turned around, giving a curt nod to the defendant’s lawyer before facing the detectives he was working with on the case.
The first detective gave a brief smile, her black hair brushing her shoulders as her partner stayed behind a few feet. “It’s finally over,” she said, relief evident in her voice.
“Yes,” Tezuka replied, his voice stiff and polite.
“Care to join us in some drinks in celebration?” her partner offered, accustomed to the older male’s laconic responses, his hands slipping casually into the pockets of his jacket, the dark brown cotton fabric brushing against his tops of his knees.
Tezuka gave a small bow. “Thank you for the offer, but I must decline. I must start working on the Kurosaki case.”
The other male gave a light-hearted grin. “Thought so but thought I’d ask anyway, just in case, ya know? You really need to relax every once in awhile or you’ll die from stress alone, Tezuka.”
Tezuka allowed a small smile to escape, though his eyes remained impassive through his silver frames. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He grabbed his jacket, folding it over his forearm as he gave another polite bow. “Please excuse me.” Tezuka slid himself out of the courtroom, pointedly ignoring the questions and lights that bombarded him the moment he stepped out of the courtroom.
“Do you have any comments about the last minute witnesses the defendant brought in?”
“Tezuka-san, what are your reactions to the defendants threats? Will you be taking any extra precautions?”
“Tezuka-sa-”
The voices were shortly cut off, the large oak doors slamming shut with a loud ‘thud’ that resounded throughout the room. The remaining male gave a wry grin as his eyes followed the trail of the assistant district attorney. Tezuka Kunimitsu had been working with their department for well over three years yet in all that time, and yet he has never known Tezuka to join them for a round of drinks. He wasn’t his business though, he thought with a shrug, turning back to his female partner who eyes were still gazing aimlessly at the wooden doors.
“Hey,” he said, catching her attention as he pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket. Giving them a light jingle he asked, “Since he refused, care to take me up on my offer?”
His partner smiled, her eyes sparkly in good humor, “Only if you pay.”
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Tezuka absently switched the lights on in his condominium, tossing his keys into a nearby bowl that sat on an elegant glass table by the entranceway. He balanced his briefcase against the wall as he shrugged his black coat off his shoulders, his arms moving mechanically to hang it up on a metal hook that protruded from his right. He moved his leather briefcase to his office before he moved toward his bedroom, switching on the kitchen lights as he passed.
He removed his jacket carefully, slowly undoing each button before he pulled out an extra hook to hang it on. He loosened his tie with one hand, his other hand reaching to the back of his neck as he gave it a twist to work out the sore muscles. The guilty charge was inevitable but the opposing lawyer seemed to have thrown Tezuka every single obstacle to make the conviction even slightly more difficult, from challenging everything from the blatant forensic finding to his detectives’ credibility.
He spared a glance to the clock, mentally resigning himself to the time he knew was far too early for sleep. Tezuka mentally prepared a schedule in his mind, figuring he could work out what he needed for the preliminary hearing on the Kurosaki case before he prepared dinner.
He brushed a strand of hazel hair out of his eyes, readjusting his glasses out of habit. He passed his small and often unused living room as he headed back toward his office, his eyes catching on the quick reflection from glass. Tezuka paused, temporarily distracted.
Maybe, he thought.
The lawyer turned, walking toward the row are sparse photographs that were scattered over his shelves. The books settled silently in the almost decorative glass shelves that were built into the wall, arranged meticulously in alphabetical order. The slim silver picture frame taunted Tezuka as he reached out, mocking him for his weakness.
His slim, manicured fingers ghosted over the polished glass, his eyes meeting those almost identical. He examined the photograph, his eyes scanning over the features of his team, of Seigaku.
The nine had gathered around, grins plastered on almost everyone’s face. A large trophy stood in the background, the golden polish glistening from the sunlight of that day.
Tezuka allowed a smile as his eyes fell on the famous Golden Pair, Kikumaru’s arms thrown around Oishi’s neck as they both laughed and smiled. Oishi had one arm around Kikumaru’s shoulder in support, and Tezuka remembers the match that had brought them both to exhaustion.
The others flanked out the Golden Pair, Inui giving a calculating but undeniably satisfied smile as he stood next to a burning Kawamura. Momoshiro and Kaidoh grinned from the other side, both temporarily forgetting their rivalry as they reveled in the moment. Tezuka himself stood on the far left next to Ryuzaki-sensei, his own lips turned up in the faint presence of a smile.
He hadn’t change much, Tezuka thought, his hand unconsciously fingering the ends of his hair. Same length, same color, even decades later. Other then a few more inches of height, Tezuka remained frozen in time.
At least time he looked the age he was.
Tezuka paused and his grip tightened slightly as he eyes fell on the last pair.
Fuji lips were turned up into a genuine smile, Ryoma hanging of his right side with one of his trademark cocky grins. Tezuka brought his fingers to stroke the glass, almost wishing he could feel the soft silken skin under his hands once again.
Tezuka closed his eyes, his hand lingering over the unmarred glass in the softest feeling of regret. He set
the picture back onto the shelf gently, sentimentally mindful of slowly lowering it onto the surface with an almost inaudible ‘clink’.
He wouldn’t let himself go down that path again. Tezuka refused to allow himself to wallow in self-pity and mistakes. He didn’t think of the past everyday, and he didn’t pretend that his life revolved around his first loves because it didn’t.
But while Tezuka was never one to throw himself into denial, and he knew he’d be the first admit that he never stopped loving them.
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Tezuka knew that joining their unique relationship was the biggest mistake he would ever life. Tezuka knew best, though, that they’d all be lying if they said sex wasn’t the biggest factor of their so-called relationship.
Even years after it was over, he still wasn’t sure how it started. They were young, foolish, and completely engrossed in their raging hormones. He and Shusuke shared an understanding and commitment. Shusuke and Ryoma threw themselves into the thrill of the chase. Ryoma loved the challenge of taunting Keigo, while Keigo and Genichirou gave themselves away to their passion.
They couldn’t look away, and they couldn’t stop even if they knew how.
None of them were sure it was love, half of them positive that it wasn’t.
But a year later, they knew. A year later, they knew they were hopelessly in love. Because even without the sex, Ryoma had once said with an arrogant smile, “It was still okay.”
And Tezuka always knew that within the mix of fights, foreplay, cross-dressing, sex, kisses, misunderstandings, fear, love, and promises, that it was the biggest mistake of his life.
He knew because even twenty-years later he couldn’t help but remember every detail he wished never happened.
Because you can’t miss what you never had.
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Tezuka pulled himself from his morose nostalgia, closing his eyes as he allowed such thoughts of the has-beens and could-haves move past him and away. Tezuka wouldn’t repress them; he wouldn’t run away.
He would face it, and he would move on one day. It may be tomorrow or it may be in years, but Tezuka knew that he wouldn’t mourn over that his life could have been forever.
And so he told himself as he walked away, snapping the overhead lights off as he walked into his solitary office, quietly shutting the door behind him.
He had work, he thought. He had to work.
Never mind that the Kurosaki case wasn’t needed for another week or that he had the next three days off. Never mind that Tezuka never took a break, working well into the night, completely forgetting that he skipped dinner.
Tezuka worked himself to exhaustion, because he couldn’t indulge in anything else that would let him forget.
Because no matter what Tezuka told himself, he was still so very much in love with a ghost of what could have been.