untitled assassin drabble [Prince of Tennis: Tezuka/Fuji]
Tezuka/Fuji, killing and such. I read too much zombie and assassin fiction. I may HAVE TO write more along these lines. *haloshine* 146 Words.
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One time, he is laid out on his back, and Fuji has the smallest, sharpest blade in hand Tezuka has ever seen, pushing it for the last time into his skin like it's melted butter, licking away the blood that floods out, when he moves until his mouth is next to Tezuka's ear, and whispers, "So far, I know sixteen different ways to kill a man with my bare hands."
Tezuka comes, promptly passes out, and can't help thinking upon waking that he felt so much safer when Fuji had the knife in his hand. The aforementioned is sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt hanging open loosely as he ties his laces.
"I also know a lot about pressure points." Fuji says, and Tezuka can't even bring himself to respond with more than a mildly amused tweak at the corner of his mouth.
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One time, he is laid out on his back, and Fuji has the smallest, sharpest blade in hand Tezuka has ever seen, pushing it for the last time into his skin like it's melted butter, licking away the blood that floods out, when he moves until his mouth is next to Tezuka's ear, and whispers, "So far, I know sixteen different ways to kill a man with my bare hands."
Tezuka comes, promptly passes out, and can't help thinking upon waking that he felt so much safer when Fuji had the knife in his hand. The aforementioned is sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt hanging open loosely as he ties his laces.
"I also know a lot about pressure points." Fuji says, and Tezuka can't even bring himself to respond with more than a mildly amused tweak at the corner of his mouth.
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