Fic: Good Enough (for llamachan)
Author/Artist: kai882
For: llamachan
Title: Good Enough
Characters: Oshitari/Fuji/Yukimura
Rating: PG. Maybe PG-13.
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis.
Warnings: Canon is still canon, but the world is AU.
Summary: Oshitari had never imagined he would end up like this.
Notes: llamachan - I’m not sure this is exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy. ^^ To my beta and my nearly-beta - thank you for your support.
Oshitari had never imagined he would end up like this.
This, he mused as he followed a nameless agent through dark, long corridors, was not even something he ever thought had existed, up until a few weeks back. It definitely wasn’t the most bizarre job he was ever offered, had ever taken, neither the most exciting one - although he supposed he couldn’t judge that until he’d be out there in the field himself, seeing some real action - but it was definitely the one job he could never, ever really imagine being offered. Or taking, for that matter, but the moment they cornered him in his usual ramen bar, in their dark, secret-agent-like suits and sunglasses, he knew he’d take their offer.
Not that it didn’t surprise him, when he heard it at first, but it had been a long time since surprise had managed to disturb him enough to ever be taken into notice when making a decision. Besides, he was an adapter, as he had proven over and over ever since he got out of school - so what was a another little change in perspective? Variables were always added, but the equation as a whole had always stayed more or less the same. It wasn’t as if this new revelation had made his whole world crumble to pieces, his life suddenly seen in a new light.
Although junior-high tennis did suddenly make a lot more sense.
So supernatural forces did exist. He could live with that. So there were people who had made a living by researching, keeping track of and hunting said supernatural beings. That had been reasonable enough, he supposed, and even if it hadn’t, had sounded cool enough that all questions of reason would remain in low priority. No, he concluded as the agent directed him towards an ordinary-looking door, just as he had concluded that first time after he had heard their proposition - there was nothing in this job that could frighten him, or cause any damage too severe to repair. Dangerous it might be, but- anything would be better than being unemployed, and bored. He could always move on again, had the need arisen - and for the time being he would enjoy this part of the world he had never seen before. Who knew, he might even find his place here, whatever this here would be.
Smiling to himself, he walked through the door.
Waking up in the morning had always been an awful experience, but the days of starting a new job - they had been the less worse. Oshitari liked new beginnings; liked waking up and not knowing what he was about to do today, getting dressed and humming to himself because he wasn’t yet too tired not to, trying out the new coffee shop on the way to work, getting off at a subway station he’d never really been to before. His first day had gone by fine, more or less, although mostly he was just surrounded by papers he had to read or sign or both until the end of the day. The rest of the week had been about as eventful as the first day - which was a slight disappointment, but it had been just the beginning. Besides, he had to admit the material was interesting enough, even if he did prefer his job description to include less studying and more actual action. His supervisor, Mori-san, when asked had said half jokingly that a month ago Oshitari hadn’t even known the other world, as they called it, existed, so wasn’t it only natural he learn a bit more about these things before going out there and witnessing them for himself? It had been just the sort of upright, proper answer Oshitari had expected, but it did make a kind of sense. So he got up every morning, went to work, and studied about vampires, or ghouls, or whatever else they told him to read about, while he also got to know his surroundings and teammates better at the same time.
The corporation (Japanese Corporation for Interdiction and Defence Against Supernatural Forces - but nobody really expected him to remember it, a smiling girl told him at lunch time; even the upper management called it the corporation, or the CID, while the guys simply called themselves “the corps”) branch in Tokyo was, surprisingly, not the biggest branch in Japan. That branch had been somewhere up in Hokkaido, where apparently the cold climate had been more to the likings of most known supernatural beings. Tokyo was not even the main Kanto branch, and Oshitari had been told they were more of a specialized section, for urban environment only. They were separated into two divisions, their main one and another, of a more military nature, which had bases scattered all around the city and its suburbs. People had also whispered to him, once they discovered he was a quiet yet keen listener, that there were rumors of another Tokyo branch, its nature kept tightly secret - but that was not to be discussed openly, at least not in their ranks.
He learned that he had been one of the few to have been specially recruited to the corporation, although nobody could tell him exactly what that meant. Most of his coworkers, Oshitari had discovered, had been quite ordinary, specially recruited or not; nice, polite and dedicated to their jobs. On the third day when he went shooting for the first time he had also discovered they were pretty deadly, but even that was done with an apologetic kind of ease, as though they would never harm anyone unless they really really needed to. “We don’t even usually use guns,” Tanaka told him when he took aim, “but it never hurts to be prepared.”
When Oshitari had wondered what they did with all the targets, if there was no use of firearms, Tanaka shrugged. “I didn’t say the corporation let them live,” he said. “Just that usually we aren’t the ones who use the guns.”
“Oh?” Oshitari took aim and shot, feeling the rush of adrenaline run through him at the loud sounds. He could get used to that. “Is that so?”
“Not bad.” Tanaka reloaded his own weapon and fired again. “Yeah, usually they send the military units for that. We just track and recover - recon stuff. They do the boring, dirty part of the job - and know how to dispose of the bodies afterwards.”
“Right.” Not that he minded, doing the more delicate work instead of brute killing, but wouldn’t it have been nice if they told him that beforehand? “So we never get involved in actual, uh, battles?”
Tanaka laid down his gun and wiped his brow. “Nearly never.” He grinned and motioned towards the door. “Come on, we’re done here. Anyway I wouldn’t worry about this if I were you, they say even the military division doesn’t handle many cases of actual combat lately. I guess the whole world’s getting too complicated for that, eh?”
“Yeah.” Oshitari put down the gun and followed him out, deciding not to ask any further, for the time being.
A week later he was given his first field assignment. As expected of his first time, he didn’t go alone.
Mori-san had to leave for another meeting before Oshitari’s partner had arrived, thus leaving Oshitari to welcome him all by himself. The young, slim man who had entered the room and was now standing before him with a polite, cryptic look in his eyes seemed unnervingly familiar.
“Oshitari Yuushi,” Oshitari bowed and then straightened, “Pleased to be working with you.”
The man chuckled. “Fuji Shuusuke. Nice to see you again, Oshitari.”
“Fuji. Imagine meeting you here.” He hadn’t heard that name in ten years, at least, ever since he graduated from high-school and stopped coming to Atobe’s parties, or maybe even before, when the Seigaku tennis gang had disbanded and gossip had become too depressing to be entertaining. He couldn’t resist asking, “Are there any more of us, tennis boys, around here? It’d be funny if this were a kind of a pattern.”
Fuji’s eye’s darkened just a bit, and without meaning to Oshitari had felt as though he had struck a nerve. “Some, maybe, in the corps. Not in Tokyo, though.”
Oshitari was tempted to ask - what he had been up to, in all those years, why he wouldn’t speak of the others - but the past was the past for a reason, and they had better things to do. “I understand you will be guiding me in this mission.” Pragmatism was always a useful solution to awkward situations, and this one was no different.
“Yes.” Fuji began pacing back and forth in the small meeting room, his shoes tapping softly on the wooden floor. “This, and the next ones, until management decides you’re good enough to work on your own. Don’t look so grim,” he paused abruptly in front of him and smiled, “We may work in bigger teams sometimes, and I’m sure you’ll find I’m more than adequate.”
It was an instinct to smile back; answer the challenge, get into the game that is interpersonal relations that go beyond fleeting acquaintances. Oshitari smirked slowly. “I’ve no doubt. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Good.” There shouldn’t have been any of that in this new job, Oshitari thought, seeing old faces, meeting ghosts from the past; but Fuji seemed just as eager to leave the suject unmentioned any further, and ten years had been a long time - so long it was ridiculous to think of it as relevant now, even though they both probably knew that maybe it still was.
“I suppose the details will be supplied as we make our way?” Oshitari had gone back to serious, enabling a smooth retreat.
“Of course.” Fuji resumed his pacing and headed for the door. “Follow me, please, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
And a moment later, they were off.
“So what exactly are we supposed to be doing?” Oshitari didn’t usually mind asking questions when he didn’t know the answer, but something about Fuji’s knowing silence made him fidget in his seat.
“Reconnaissance.” Fuji steered them carefully through a clutter of other cars, managing somehow to pass the mess without lingering in it too long. Oshitari thought about being too old to argue over who drives. “A bunch of kids are meddling with dark magic, again, and we’re to make sure what they do doesn’t harm anyone.”
“That’s it?” He couldn’t supress a slight tone of disappointment. “I’m sure it’s important and all, but-“
“They’re only people?” Fuji cut in.
Oshitari lowered his gaze to his lap. “Yes.”
“Well,” and even without looking Oshitari could tell from his tone that Fuji was smiling, that thin, sharp, humorless smile of his, “Management recons we should keep everything in check. That includes humans, even though they usually don’t pose half the danger anything else could.”
“I understand.” This wasn’t fun anymore. There was too much bizarre and practicality and not enough fun. “Are we always going to do this, this… regular, maintenance business? Was I told to read that material just in case? Or do I have to transfer to one of the military units if I want something more?”
Fuji braked suddenly, the car screeching to a halt at the side of a deserted street, and turned to face him the moment the car was completely still. “Look,” he said, and his eyes gleamed dangerously, ocean blue barely seen through narrow slits. “When I heard you were joining the corps I asked to be your partner. Because I remembered you. Because I thought it’d fun. But if that’s how it will be…” He paused and shook his head, and then continued. “You don’t know the half of what we’re doing. You’ve been with us how long, a week?”
Ten days, Oshitari wanted to say, but it wouldn’t have made any difference.
“Fine, I’ve been here longer. I’ve seen stuff, Oshitari. I know stuff. Sometimes it feels like I know too much. We’re not here to play cool and blow monsters up, we’re doing a job. An important one.”
“I-“ Oshitari opened his mouth, not sure yet whether he wanted to apologize or protest that he wasn’t as naïve and irresponsible as Fuji might’ve thought, he just-
“And I know you know all this and you didn’t really mean that, but if I hadn’t told you all of this now you would’ve never stopped, not until we’ve met our first demon for real, and I really don’t feel like waiting until that happens.”
“Right.” Oshitari nodded, once. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
Fuji half smiled at him and turned the car on. “I know. And don’t worry, it won’t be as dull as you think. Even when they’re human.”
“Yeah, I imagine that’s so.” Oshitari sneaked a glance at him when he was looking ahead, not as angry or tired as before. “We will meet a real demon one day though, right?”
The glare Fuji gave him was answer enough.
When they finally reached the house, something was clearly not right.
“Is this-?” Oshitari tried looking into the cloud of darkness that surrounded the building, tried to focus his gaze but found his eyes kept glancing away, unable to look directly at… whatever it was.
“I’m afraid so.” Fuji looked around for a moment, then at the dark-shrouded house again. “Yes, this is the place. And I was hoping this would be an easy one.”
“So there’s a problem.” He should’ve guessed. He had this unnatural tendency to find trouble anywhere he went, and this job wasn’t any different after all. It was good, he supposed; he was nearly beginning to worry.
Fuji slowly made his way towards where the house front would’ve been, had they been able to see it. “Someone did a sloppy job. We should’ve gotten here sooner.”
Oshitari followed Fuji hesitatingly, step by step. It was like walking under water, every step they made slow and deliberate, requiring more effort than it seemed. Behind him Oshitari could still see the street - their car parked, a street light flickering in the corner of his eye - but in front of him he could only see, nearly feel, the dark. He blinked. It seemed deeper than it seemed a moment ago. “Fuji?” He called out.
In front of him, out of the darkness, Fuji had appeared suddenly, a mere few inches from him. Oshitari could feel his breath on his face, had to cross his eyes in order to look Fuji straight in the face. He stumbled back and hit the pavement. His hands clung to the cold stone beneath him; solid. Solid was good.
“It won’t harm you.” Fuji’s voice was gentler than he had expected, and when he stepped towards him and offered him his hand for help Oshitari took it and pulled himself up. “Are you okay?”
Oshitari brushed his hands on his trousers and scowled. “I guess. You shouldn’t have charged forward like this without me. I’m new here, remember?”
“Sorry. I know.” Fuji rolled his eyes. “Someone here, somewhere, very probably one of the silly kids I mentioned before, has summoned a demon.”
“Oh.” Oshitari waved his hands around. “And this, all this… stuff is part of the side effects?”
“More or less.” Fuji grimaced. “At least we know it’s not a very powerful demon, since this is harmless. It’s good they didn’t call on something bigger, or took the whole house with them to another dimension, or… whatever. Kids these days.”
“Why can’t they just play tennis, eh?” Oshitari looked around again. “So what are we supposed to do now?”
“Like I said, it’s harmless.” Fuji began walking again, slowly, motioning Oshitari to follow. “We get in, find the demon, get out. Maybe we’ll give the kids a bit of advice, though I believe they’ve already learned a valuable lesson today.”
“Are we supposed to call for help?” Oshitari asked. “Backup, army, something like that? For the demon, I mean.”
“It’ll take too long. Come on.”
Oshitari stayed close to Fuji, walking through the entrance path and up the stairs, climbing, blindly, hand clutching the bannister tightly all the time. In front of him Fuji moved gracefully, making only deliberate sounds for Oshitari to follow. When they reached the entrance he suddenly grabbed Oshitari’s hand and kicked the door open, pulling him quickly into a small entrance hall and closing the door behind them again.
The darkness was gone. The hall was poorly lit - one lamp still feebly working, the other one out. On the left was a staircase, and at the other end of the hall was a lift.
“The stairs, I think.” Fuji let go of Oshitari’s hand and headed to the stairs, pausing only to make sure Oshitari followed. “I’m afraid we can’t count on electricity as long as that thing’s loose.”
Oshitari didn’t bother asking him how he knew.
They climbed the stairs cautiously, and for a moment Oshitari had entertained himself with the thought of guns, drawn and held closely to the chest. He should’ve argued with Tanaka over that “no guns” habit some more.
On the third floor, Fuji had stopped and looked around, as if smelling the air. Oshitari sniffed - it had smelled just like the rest of the stairwell, damp and a little mouldy, like the place had been closed off for a while too long.
“In here,” Fuji said and turned, to their right, an apartment entrance which seemed just like all the others they had passed.
Oshitari could feel it in his blood, the rush, and suddenly there was a pounding in his ears. “Can I?” He approached the door, tensing his shoulders.
“Sure.”
He slammed into the door forcefully and it opened with a loud bang. He stumbled, regained his balance and looked around at the room he had entered. At first glance, nothing - a mat on the floor, a low table, a small cupboard at the corner. And then he noticed them - the children. They weren’t really children, more like high-school students, maybe junior-high, but the way the were huddled in the corner resmbled little kids, scared and inexperienced, trying desperately to make as little noise as they could. Their eyes were closed, he noticed, and they were shaking, hugging themselves and one another and trembling, whispering soundless words into the air.
“Are you-“ he spoke softly, trying to come close without alarming them, when something leaped onto him from behind.
It was quick, and strong, and as Oshitari called out and tried to shake it off he could feel claws stuck into his back, heard a high shriek by his ear. He cried out and shook his back more fiercely, a week of training passing in his head as quick as lightning, and then ran backwards and slammed himself against the wall. The claws’ grip loosened, for a moment, and he hit the creature against the wall again. For a moment he felt it slip - he reached back and tried to grab it, pull it off - but then there was a sharp pain in his arm and then his shoulder, talons digging into his flesh again. He tripped forward. He could feel the creature - demon - breathing on his neck, could feel its grip tighten even more and even though he tried, twisting and bending - his arm hurt so goddamned much - he just- he couldn’t-
He felt something wet on the nape of his neck; heard a faint sound of slicing and the gurgles of the demon that followed. Then the claws left his back and he heard a thud, and when he turned around Fuji Shuusuke was standing above what had to be a dead demon, smiling thinly and holding a knife in his hands.
Moments passed. The only sounds heard were their breathing and the children’s shuffling, still gathered at the corner of the room. Fuji looked at his knife for a moment and then shrugged, cleaned it on his shirt and concealed it somewhere, too fast for Oshitari to see.
“We should go now,” Fuji said, breaking the silence.
Oshitari straightened slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Fuji’s smile widened; just a fraction.
“What about them?” Oshitari asked.
“It’ll take them a while to get over it, but they’ll live.” Fuji gave them one look of disdain and then turned towards the door. “We’ll call headquarters when we’re back in the car, they’ll decide what to do with them.”
“What about the parents?” It was still relatively early, when they went in. Oshitari glanced at his watch - it was still early now, only a few minutes passed. “Huh.”
“They’ll be dealt with too, if that becomes necessary.” They left the apartment without glancing back, into the suddenly brighter stairwell, down the stairs, out to the street. The darkness was gone, leaving only regular twilight behind. Fuji opened the car and Oshitari got in, sinking into his seat with a sigh. Fuji didn’t join him just yet - he stood at the far corner of the car, dialing and then speaking on the phone to someone in a hushed voice. When he was done he sat beside Oshitari, leaning back, not yet turning the engine on.
“Silly kids,” he murmured.
Oshitari nodded in silent agreement. “At least we got here in time.”
“Yes.” The setting sun cast dim, red light on Fuji’s face, and Oshitari watched him silently watching the house they had just left. After a while he sighed and started the car.
“So what does the corporation do, in cases like these?” Oshitari asked when they were a safe distance away, on the highway. “What does ‘dealing’ mean?”
Fuji shrugged. “Sometimes, they’re given false explanations. People will usually buy anything just to avoid the truth. Sometimes we simply pay them to be quiet.” He tapped on the steering wheel for a few moments and then added, “Sometimes even more severe measurements are taken. You’ll understand, in time.”
“You certainly like to keep people in the dark.” Oshitari was only half joking when he said that.
Fuji chuckled. “Only the new people.”
“Right. Which is why you know all of this and I don’t?”
“You develop a sense for it, after a while. It’ll happen to you too, if you stay here long enough.”
It was getting dark. Fuji glanced at him as if he was about to add something, but didn’t say a thing.
“Do you want to grab a drink?” Oshitari suddenly asked, thinking about the long, lonely ride home from the office, about having to patch himself up, attend to the scratch, or whatever it was, the demon left on his arm.
“Sure.” Fuji’s answer was almost too fast, and Oshitari smiled to himself when the other man wasn’t looking. “Let’s just get the car back, and take care of that wound of yours.” Fuji slowed down and turned at an intersection, and then cast a fleeting look at himself. “And let me change first.”
Once familiar faces would quickly become familiar once again, Oshitari had learned. Renewing relations, although against his general habit of leaving the past behind, had been refreshing. He found that he didn’t mind getting closer to Fuji - there was, after all, no painful mutual history, just a reciprocal silent recognition of the same past, and an agreement not to let it come up in a conversation more than necessary.
They worked well together, Oshitari discovered. Fuji wasn’t exaggerating when he spoke of his experience; sometimes it seemed to Oshitari as though he was obtruding in a game to which he knew no rules, while Fuji was so familiar with it he could play it with his eyes closed and not miss a beat. He liked most of the jobs they had to do, even the ones that had to do with humans - it was like performing, he found, and keeping up the normal appearance for the outside world was just as important as keeping the other world in check.
Learning from Fuji was fun. He was just as quick as Oshitari, if not more so, and sometimes it had seemed as though they barely needed to talk - a word, or two, and a glance, and they could understand each other perfectly. Hanging out with Fuji had been just as fun - they would usually head out of work, sometimes board a train, and find themselves a concealed bar or restaurant where they could talk and drink, drink and talk for hours.
Endless, stretching work hours had turned into endless, often carried on until the night discussions; long, lone bus rides to nowhere had turned into long conversations over a cup of coffee, which admittedly also went nowhere in particular. They discussed literature and art, spoke of sports and weather. They talked of the human nature, in an attached kind of way, and sometimes breached the subject of politics. “Once you find out everything is connected,” Fuji told him, “the government, the corporation, the police - even the yakuza, though few care to admit this - it’s less interesting to see the world from outside.” Oshitari thought he had understood.
Fuji told Oshitari about the days before the corporation had began to operate - how, centuries ago, the other world wasn’t as separated from the world of humans, and myths were created; how the corporation believed there came a time when an ancient organization, very much like themselves, had taken measures to purge the earth and created the delicate status quo which existed, with occasional periods of ups and downs, until these very days. When he spoke of their job Fuji was always serious - his face at ease, his eyes gazing far away, unfocused. Had Oshitari been the poetic type he would’ve said that sometimes Fuji had seemed as though he lived in the other world, and only visited their normal one to share his occasional preternatural grace and advice.
Had he been the nostalgic type he would’ve realized maybe this was what they had all felt about Fuji, even at junior high school.
Oshitari told Fuji tales about the places he’d been to, the people he had seen. Fuji mentioned once, in a fleeting kind of way, that it hadn’t been long since his graduation from university that he started working for the corporation, and therefore had not much to tell that didn’t have to do with it, in one way or another. Oshitari laughed and Fuji had answered, in mock irritation, “Why, I suppose you’ve led a much more interesting life until now?”
“I have,” Oshitari said, and that was how the tales began. Fuji accepted everything he said with an amused doubtfulness, and Oshitari was slowly beginning to enjoy it - extricating the more eccentric tales from the depths of his memory, coming out with sudden, unexpected declarations, just enough to tease.
“I even worked as a host once, you know,” he told Fuji one day, raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“I see,” Fuji answered in a low voice, and quirked his lips into a smile which lasted barely a second, and then the both of them were laughing, and for a while Fuji invented stories for Oshitari which had excelled even his own.
It was at the end of one of their missions, while they were huddled together in a tiny alcove, breathing erratically, waiting for the army unit to arrive, when Fuji had first asked Oshitari for a game.
Walking onto the court felt painfully familiar. Oshitari had to dig through three long forsaken boxes until he found his racket, and they had to go and buy the balls beforehand. Too much dust to be worth the trouble, Oshitari said, and Fuji said “It’s been a while since I played.”
It was a fine afternoon, and they stretched leisurely, each going through an easy routine of his own, like no time had passed at all. They found the street courts nearly by coincidence, a few weeks back, and luckily enough they were deserted on this time of the day.
“Shall we?” Fuji took position at the far end of the court, without asking, and Oshitari shrugged, walked to his side, positioned himself and served.
It was a slow serve, and Fuji caught and returned it quickly, but not quick enough. They volleyed for a while, fast paced but not in a rush, until Oshitari almost deliberately hit a top spin and Fuji glared at him and hit a Tsubame Gaeshi, the ball dropping neatly into Oshitari’s court and rolling on the ground.
“Sorry,” Oshitari smirked before Fuji could say a word, and got ready to serve again.
As the game progressed and the adrenaline rushed, Oshitari discovered he was having a good time - swing, hit, move, plan ahead. It wasn’t a most complicated game, except for the occasional brilliant move - they were both once-acclaimed tennis prodigies, after all - but it was tennis, and it was fun. It felt good being back on the court after so long - he saw Fuji’s smile across the net, watched his body arch as he served - being back on any court.
Fuji won in the end, eyes wide open and looking right at Oshitari when he scored the final point, 7-5, and Oshitari laughed breathlessly and discovered he didn’t mind at all to lose.
After the game they sat together on a nearby bench, catching their breaths and watching the sun go down. Oshitari was still exhilarated from the match, a thin layer of sweat still covering his brow. Fuji, on the other hand, seemed to have collected himself quickly. He sat drawn into himself, and stared right ahead with a serious expression on his face.
Oshitari nudged him with his elbow. “Good game,” he said and smiled, trying to catch Fuji’s eyes.
“Yes,” Fuji answered and for a moment his eyes lit again, but on the next moment the shine was gone and he lowered his gaze down.
A soft wind rustled around them. It became cold, at once; the skies darkening just enough, the last rays of sunlight too few and far to provide any warmth. Oshitari shuddered and reached for his jacket. Fuji remained motionless.
Is everything alright, Oshitari wanted to ask, and maybe add, you can tell me. He watched Fuji intently, and opened his mouth.
“My brother is getting married tomorrow,” Fuji suddenly said.
Oshitari glanced at him from the corner of his eye, noticed the tense, firm way Fuji held himself, his hands clenched, his mouth drawn into a short, taut line. He remembered the way Fuji carried himself in their game, in their missions - at ease, lithe and graceful. Fuji was always stronger than he looked, he thought, except maybe when he looked strong.
“Oh,” he said. Jokes and speculations about the Fuji brothers had been flying around for years - and in the end, he thought, maybe it all came down to this. “Congratulations,” he said and meant - I’m sorry. He lay his hand on Fuji’s shoulder, felt his cold skin through the thin material, and tried to find more words of sympathy.
Fuji turned around and kissed him.
“Oh,” Oshitari said again, in a very different tone, and leaned to kiss him again.
Things were becoming very interesting, the next few weeks.
Their game was the first of many games; the kiss, the first of many kisses. It had to turn into a disaster at some point or another, Oshitari was sure - the way these things had always ended in high school didn’t bode well for them. But then again, they weren’t in high school anymore.
They settled into a comfortable routine - job and making out, missions and making out, tennis and making out. Fuji rarely became as serious as he had on that day, and had instead spent most of his time smiling at Oshitari maliciously, and thinking of new creative places to spend their lunch break together. It was becoming distracting, not that Oshitari would complain, up to the point they had to change the seating arrangements in the conference room. It seemed as though being close to one another was enough to make them think exactly the same thing. And kissing with Fuji was never just kissing.
Falling into this new pattern had been easy. It felt almost like the first time - the both of them having grown so far of who they once were, the affairs each of them might have had. They didn’t share intimacy, but something far more enjoyable - a new possibility for one, perhaps.
Some of the corps had frowned upon this new, unexplainable tightening of their bond - not that they knew exactly what sort of bond it was, or so Oshitari had hoped. Their supervisor, Mori-san, on the other hand, had called Oshitari one day for a personal meeting and told him how pleased he was with his excellent adaptation to his position and his partner. Oshitari had thanked him and smiled politely, and then had to politely decline when Mori-san had offered that he and Fuji be transferred to an office of their own, to allow them to work together without interferences. Fuji laughed at him when he got back from the meeting that day.
Work in those days had been a strange mix of urgency and leisure; the research and tracking missions increasing, every day, in numbers and scale, while the actual retrieval and combatting had decreased to nearly zero. There were rumors of the military division opening in some grand-scale operation, and yet those who knew persons from that division personally had said that on the contrary - the military activity of the corporation had been even less frequent than their own. Oshitari wondered about this, one lazy afternoon in Fuji’s apartment, and Fuji chuckled and said that if Oshitari felt the need to work so bad, he could find ways to keep him occupied. When time had passed and yet there seemed no inclination to return to their previous form of work, Fuji said more seriously that maybe someone in upper management was considering a big change, and these days had been the preceding signs - like the calm before the storm.
Oshitari tended to agree. Personally, he thought the first lightning had struck on the day they first saw a lone figure by their tennis court, standing afar, watching them play.
Yukimura Seiichi had seemed as though barely a day had passed since they had finished high school. They did not notice him, not until they were in the middle of the game, and only recognized him when it came to an end. He stood in the shadows, far enough to be considered a passerby had he not been standing there for their entire game, and he did not speak to them when they were done. Oshitari barely managed to notice his expression - his face drawn in concentration, his eyes mesmerized to their moves, burning with hunger - before he turned and walked away.
“Did you-“ Oshitari threw his towel around his neck and reached for the bottle of water.
“Yes,” Fuji said. They exchanged a look between them.
“It was-“
“Yukimura, yes.”
“I wonder what he was doing here.”
“Me too.” Fuji slipped the bottle from between his hands and took a sip for himself. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”
Oshitari elbowed him good-naturedly for the bottle. “Me too.”
They stopped at his apartment to take a quick shower and then made their way to work. After the entrance procedures they were greeted by an excited crowd, all headed to the main conference room. Apparently, management had a big announcement to make. Fuji didn’t need to tell Oshitari I told you so.
Mori-san was standing by the head of the table, looking even more formal and solemn than usual. In the seat next to him sat Yukimura.
Faint murmurs were spreading though the crowd; they weren’t the only ones who recognized Yukimura. Most faces were looking at him blankly, but here and there they could notice a look of recognition, and these faces passed the murmurs on. Oshitari touched Fuji’s hand briefly, raised an eyebrow in question, but Fuji nodded and answered with a clueless look of his own.
Mori-san coughed, and slowly the room quieted.
Oshitari tried to catch Yukimura’s eyes, but Yukimura sat with his hands in his lap, looking straight ahead, and didn’t move.
“Some of you remember Yukimura-san,” Mori-san said. The room began to rustle again, but then Mori-san continued. “As some of you have already guessed, in the last few years the CID have been developing a new, improved way to fight against the dangers of the other world. Today, after years of hard work, I am proud to say we have succeeded. Yukimura-san, as a vital member of our development team, has joined our branch once again, this time with the important purpose of integrating the old and new - help us all learn how to work together with the corporation’s newest methods, and make our contributions towards turning our world into a better, safer world.
“As the details of Yukimura-san’s way of action are still classified, I ask of you this: until the operation moves to its next stage and the integration becomes nationwide, please keep this information to yourselves and do not discuss it with other corporation workers. Also, I ask of you to assist Yukimura-san in any way you can, with whatever he requires. Come time I promise you you will hear more details from myself and from Yukimura-san, and you will learn how to adapt to this new, improved corporate structure. Until then, I trust you all to do your very best, each in his position. Thank you all for your cooperation.”
As his fellow workers streamed out of the conference room, Oshitari tried to catch Yukimura’s eyes once again. Apart from some more technical announcements, Mori-san didn’t add anything about Yukimura and his actual role in their branch, which meant they knew about it practically nothing. Yukimura kept looking straight ahead during the whole speech, and Oshitari wondered what it was - that made his face so fixed and apathetic; so different from the face he saw, or thought he saw, that very morning.
Fuji waited for him outside when he finally came out of the room. They walked to the lift silently. They were the last to leave; small groups of people already scattering in the hall, each to his office and duty. When they were inside the lift, just the two of them, Fuji broke the silence.
“So.”
“Yes.” Oshitari agreed.
“I wonder what it is exactly he’s doing.”
Oshitari shot him a look. “You sure you don’t know?”
Fuji shook his head. “I can only guess. Just like you.”
“Your guesses tend to be awfully accurate. Unlike mine.” Oshitari winked at him just as the lift’s door opened. They straightened and got out, avoiding looking at each other. Oshitari knew anyway that Fuji was smiling.
“You’re getting better,” Fuji said amusedly. “And anyway, right now my guesses are pretty vague.”
“Right.” They walked relaxedly to the main office, talking in low voices. Despite the big announcement having been made, there still hadn’t been any new orders, which meant they were in no need to hurry. “But you know more than me,” Oshitari remembered. “What did Mori-san mean, about Yukimura being here again? Was he here before?”
Fuji shrugged. “He was here for a while. Longer than me, actually - he was here for a while already when I arrived. But then some day he just disappeared. I didn’t know where they transferred him - I thought maybe he just left.”
“How long ago was that?” Oshitari asked. Judging from Fuji’s expression, the slight frown on his lips, it was probably-
“A long time ago.” Fuji’s eyes became distant for a moment, and Oshitari looked around, made sure the corridor was empty, and touched his shoulder briefly.
Whatever it was, it’s over now, Oshitari wanted to say, and Fuji smiled at him thankfully.
“So… what do you think happened to Yukimura?” Oshitari lingered his hand on Fuji’s back for a few seconds, and regretfully drew it back. There was a limit to how long the walk to the office could take. “Why is he like that?”
Fuji didn’t ask what ‘like that’ meant. “I’m not sure. But he was like this even before - even then.”
Oshitari thought about Yukimura sitting motionless in the conference room. “But why?”
Fuji stopped walking, right before the entrance to the office, and pulled him to the corner behind the door. Oshitari chuckled and let himself be pulled, but Fuji only found his hand with his and pressed it tightly. “He lost his team,” Fuji murmured.
“You mean… they died?” Oshitari also lowered his voice. Death among comrades was the one thing the corps never joked about, never mentioned if it was possible.
“No. His team.” Fuji accentuated the word and it caused a slight stab, one Oshitari had almost stopped feeling completely. He was grateful for Fuji’s warm hand in his.
“You mean-“ but there wasn’t really a need to ask.
“From high-school.” Fuji laughed a short, humorless laugh. “Yes. Look at him closely, next time, and you’ll see.”
So he looked.
Yukimura didn’t talk much, but he seemed to appear everywhere, on the strangest moments. He never spoke beyond the most necessary instructions, and management, although not declaring so openly, encouraged no further interaction between their special new talent and the regular corps members. Despite the days passing by, Yukimura’s function didn’t become any clearer. He would show up, demand a specific detail, or the newest outcomes or reports, and then walk away without even a word of thanks. Oshitari watched him closely, but from afar, wherever he went - for some reason almost fascinated by his expressionless face, by Fuji’s few words about him.
He remembered how once, long ago, Yukimura had been the strongest person he had - all of them had - ever seen. There was still strength, nowadays - he caught a glimpse of Yukimura training one day, all by himself, and thought that perhaps by physical standards Yukimura was now stronger than ever. You could see it when he moved, hear it in the tone of his voice on the rare occasions that he spoke, feel it whenever he entered a room - but when observing closely like Fuji had told him, it seemed as though that strength was lacking something.
Yukimura always sat by himself. He barely sat at all, always on the way to some place or another, but when he did sit, he always seemed to be surrounded by an invisible barrier that never came down. He walked with his head held high and never looked back - almost too intent on looking forward, his eyes never straying from the path ahead. Looking at him, Oshitari thought that Fuji’s words had made sense, nearly too much. It seemed as though something in Yukimura was buried deep bellow the surface, never to fully come out again, as though he realized he had lost something, long ago, that he would never gain back anymore.
Sometimes Oshitari thought that both he and Fuji could relate to that feeling.
Strangely enough, the only times Yukimura had seemed any different were when he was watching the two of them play tennis.
On the day after his arrival at the corporation, when Oshitari and Fuji had gone to a game after work, he was there again, watching them intently just as he had on the day before. It continued, as the days went by - no matter at what hour, or on which day - whenever they came to the courts he was already there. He never spoke to them, and they never spoke to or of him. Fuji and Oshitari had exchanged a look between them on the first time they had seen him near the courts again, and silently it was decided not to mention it until he came to them. They played as usual, and Yukimura watched them, and when Oshitari cast a look at him midgame he could see his body stressing and relaxing correspondingly to the game, his fingers stretching as if holding a racket. They could always feel the hungry look in his eyes - such a strong contrast to his indifference at work that Oshitari somehow wondered how it could be the same person, the one watching them so eagerly on the courts and the stone-faced man at the office.
Once he dared to experiment and after their game he kissed Fuji, across the net. He looked at Yukimura beyond Fuji’s shoulder, not sure what he was waiting for. Yukimura was still watching them, as fixed as ever; his arms were drawn around himself tightly and his mouth twisted into a strange expression, but his eyes burned exactly the same.
Fuji didn’t say anything when Oshitari pulled him closer, slid his hand up his shirt. He opened his eyes for a moment, looked Oshitari straight in the eye, and then bit his lip and grasped his back, hard enough to bruise.
At work that day Yukimura had said nothing to them, as usual.
“Can I join you?”
Oshitari thought at first he was imagining the question.
They stood on the court on early evening, ready to start the game. Yukimura hadn’t been there when they arrived - hadn’t been at work the whole day, in fact, so their surprise at his absence was mild. Fuji was getting ready to serve when Yukimura appeared, and then the question was asked.
They exchanged a look between them. Yukimura stood by the net, waiting for their answer, eyes focused on the ball on the ground as if he couldn’t care less. Oshitari raised an eyebrow as if saying, what should we do? And Fuji lowered his racket and shook his head - it’s about time this happened.
“Sure,” Oshitari answered, after a few moments of silence, and stepped forward to hand Yukimura his racket. “Go ahead, I’ll act as referee. Fuji could probably use someone new to lose to.”
Fuji crossed his hands, unimpressed, and Oshitari chuckled. Yukimura didn’t answer the remark and took the racket, hand immediately curling around the handle, the other hand checking the strings. Fuji and Oshitari exchanged another look but Yukimura didn’t seem to notice, and when he took Oshitari’s previous place on the court Fuji walked back to his position and Oshitari went to stand outside the court.
He called the beginning of the game and they started playing. Yukimura didn’t have that same connection with Fuji as he had - their movements on the court weren’t as synchronized, the tension between them not as familiar and comfortable. Nevertheless, they were both marvelous. Oshitari could barely follow the ball, could barely concentrate on their moves, watching with delight the beautiful, accurate dance that was their tennis. Fuji’s tennis he knew - had gotten to know well, during the past few months - and yet it never ceased to amaze him, every single time. The strong, lithe muscles, the way Fuji’s moves always flowed, harmonized and content. And Yukimura - it was almost painful, to see the look of utter devotion in his eyes. Yukimura played like he had met a long lost friend, like a drowning man who had suddenly been offered a hand. For the first time since that day they first saw him by the court, Yukimura seemed truly alive.
The game progressed quickly, and the further it went, the more concentrated Yukimura became. It wasn’t that Fuji was not a worthy foe - he was, and Oshitari admired the way he never gave up, fought point for point - but Yukimura, after settling into the game, was like tennis itself. When the final point was taken - a swift, smooth swing of the racket, a soft thud when the ball fell on the court - they all stood silently in their place, breathing heavily, letting the tension slowly drain from their bodies.
“Good game,” Fuji said faintly, still catching his breath. Oshitari nodded unconsciously in agreement. There was silence again.
For a moment, a smile broke on Yukimura’s face. For a moment he opened his mouth - to answer, or maybe - and that thought made Oshitari bite his lips, too unfamiliar and yet enticing at the same time - to lean forward and kiss Fuji across the net - but then that moment was gone. Yukimura’s face slipped back to his neutral, impassive mask, and without a word he lay the racket on the ground and then turned around and ran.
“He’ll be back,” Fuji predicted. Stepping more easily now he picked Oshitari’s racket up and handed it back to him. “And this time it’ll be your turn to lose.”
Oshitari took his racket. “We could avoid him, if that bothers you,” he teased, but the question behind his words was serious.
Fuji met his eyes. “Nah, it’s okay.” He flexed his arms and smiled, and then added in a more serious tone, “it seems he needs it.”
Too many words unsaid - pity, and understanding, and somehow Oshitari knew that Fuji knew about the kiss that didn’t happen - passed between them. They stood quietly for a while, and then Fuji sighed and Oshitari touched his hand briefly, and they left to make their way to work.
As Fuji had predicted, Yukimura was there the next morning.
Adding Yukimura to their strange little equation took a while, but it seemed to work. Sometimes Oshitari wondered, had more of the old high-school gang shown up, could they have joined as easily, or as quickly, but he wasn’t sure he knew the answer. Yukimura wasn’t just like anybody - he was Yukimura, and for him and Fuji that worked, somehow. He was still just as withdrawn to himself when they were at work together, but when they played he gave himself completely, and that was a sort of honesty that was good enough.
Both he and Fuji had treated Yukimura as though he was something fragile, delicate, in an agreement between them that they never bothered to word. Yukimura disliked that - he never said it, like he barely spoke at all, but they could feel it, feel him avoiding the looks in their eyes, or the way he went rigid when they gave him a smile after a good game. They still had a lot to figure out about him - they both knew it. And they both knew that they were equally intent to figure it all out one day, even though that was another one of the things they never bothered to say. The way Oshitari saw it he couldn’t hide anything from Fuji, so he didn’t even bother to try. He liked to think that at that stage of their familiarity, Fuji had felt the same about him. He didn’t try to hide the way he was eying Yukimura when they played because Fuji knew everything about it anyway, did the same himself. It could have turned into jealousy, or into a race, but they were both too clever for that. Instead it was more like a friendly challenge - trying to see who would find out more, before the inevitable break that would reveal all would occur.
While Yukimura didn’t actively respond to any of their advances, he did warm up to them with time. He still didn’t bother to do anything that could be remotely considered as socializing, but he stopped disappearing whenever he didn’t need them, began to linger more and more in the office, until he really needed to be somewhere else. It was getting to a point when Mori-san began noticing, and both he and Fuji were severely warned to stop interfering with Yukimura’s work. Luckily enough they were, both of them, too clever to ever receive something beyond a baseless warning.
The corporation began to slowly return to its previous pattern of work, and whispers at the dining hall were saying that the addition of Yukimura to their branch had been a mistake - that the secret fighting method management had praised so much wasn’t working properly, that they should’ve deserted that way of action long ago. Yukimura of course hadn’t said anything about any of those whispers, but they did note that as the days passed he seemed more and more tired. Only when he played the color returned to his cheeks, the glow to his eyes; like tennis was the only thing that sustained him, on those days of fervent action and whatever it was that he did.
Whether the rumors were true or not, it was apparent that the corporation was, indeed, in need of more agents in the field once again. Unsurprisingly, after the outside missions began to increase in numbers, it wasn’t long before Oshitari and Fuji were sent on a mission together again.
They were meant to track a vampire, find out where it came from; instead, they managed to find a whole nest. They were able of taking care of that nest by themselves, but this time the orders from management were clear - keep out of danger. Call the military division and get out of there.
Fuji made the call and they were on their way out, when the door to the nest - an abandoned warehouse, deep in the suburbs - rattled and opened. It was twilight outside - too dark to cause the vampires any damage when the door opened, but not dark enough to rouse them yet, or catch their attention. Too soon for the military unit to arrive, but too early for the intruder to be another vampire. At the sound of the opening door Fuji turned quickly and pulled Oshitari aside, behind two big crates. They waited breathlessly to see whoever would enter.
It was Yukimura.
Oshitari held his breath, and heard Fuji do the same. Yukimura seemed to glow - his eyes unnaturally bright in the dim lights, his teeth a stark white in his open, preying mouth. Oshitari shuddered at the sight. Yukimura looked like a hunter, like a real creature of the other world, and maybe there was sense in him being in charge of the corporation’s new weapon, after all. Next to him, Oshitari felt Fuji nod in agreement.
That didn’t ready him for what happened a moment later.
He wasn’t expecting it, or maybe he just wasn’t quick enough to notice, but a moment later Yukimura was suddenly near one of the vampires, a hand on his shoulder, and a second later that vampire began to burn. Another second - a blink of the eye, no more - and Yukimura was at the other of the room, his hand held forward. Two more vampires lying on the floor - and this time Oshitari thought he saw something, maybe noticed a dim glow - and then they were on fire too. Yukimura turned around and Oshitari saw the shadows flickering on his face from the flame, saw the thin film of perspiration on his forehead. His bare, empty hands.
Something that shouldn’t have made sense was suddenly very very clear, or maybe it was the other way around.
“Did you-“ Oshitari began asking Fuji and then paused. One of the other vampires was up - approaching Yukimura from behind, creeping silently. Oshitari opened his mouth again, to shout.
In a flash Yukimura turned. The vampire was frozen in his place, standing immobile in an unnatural position. Yukimura caught him easily by the neck and lifted him up; the vampire’s eyes widened for a second and then his neck, his back, his whole body were on flames, and a moment later he was a pile of dust by Yukimura’s legs.
Oshitari gasped and Fuji covered his mouth with his hand, just in time, to prevent him from making any sound.
Yukimura continued, walking, or appearing, around the room; Oshitari wasn’t sure he could actually see Yukimura move from place to place. Wherever he went, a moment later there were flames.
When the whole nest was on fire, smoke beginning to rise to the ceiling, Yukimura turned to leave. Fuji began moving, slowly, quietly, and Oshitari followed him and coughed, once.
Yukimura turned towards them.
They looked at each other silently. The fire made Yukimura’s face seem red and glistening, but the look in his eyes was cold. Fuji stood close to Oshitari, nearly touching him, and they both waited for Yukimura to speak.
Finally, he opened his mouth. “Get out of here,” he said, and left.
That night he waited for them on the courts, and they both somehow knew they had to come.
It hurt, surprisingly, to see Yukimura on the familiar courts with the cold, detached expression they knew from work. He was pacing, up and down the court, and when Fuji and Oshitari arrived - together, even though they didn’t call to meet - he walked in front of them and eyed them dispassionately.
It was cold. The street was dark. No one in their right mind would be there on that hour, Oshitari thought, and then had to suppress a chuckle - of course, that explained perfectly why they were all there.
“I need to talk to you,” Yukimura said, and Fuji nodded while Oshitari said, “alright.”
They waited quietly. Yukimura paced around before halting in front of them again. Oshitari took a deep breath. Next to him, Fuji was clenching and unclenching his hands. They waited more.
“You have to stay away from me,” Yukimura finally said.
Oshitari gave a low, unbelieving chuckle. “This is it? That’s your answer?” Fuji lay his hand on his arm but he wouldn’t stop. “That was what you had to say?”
Yukimura looked at the ground quietly. When he raised his head again, his face was angry. Oshitari nearly forgot Yukimura could have more than two expressions on his face.
“You need to stay away from me, because that would be best. There’s still hope for you two if you lay low now.”
Oshitari snorted. “Oh, come on-“
Fuji’s grip on his arm tightened, and Oshitari stopped. “Yukimura.” Fuji’s voice was soft. “We saw you today. At the warehouse. Would you please care to explain, before you tell us what to do?”
Yukimura looked around and scowled, some of the haughty attitude he possessed so gracefully at high-school appearing once again. “Just do as I say.”
“You know we won’t.” Fuji could be just as haughty, Oshitari thought fondly, and smiled.
“He’s right.”
Yukimura rolled his eyes. “You saw what happened today, right? What is there to explain? I’m the corporation’s new weapon. Me and- a few others, maybe. They wouldn’t like it if you don’t stay away. It could be dangerous, too, if you don’t.”
“You mean you actually-“ It would make perfect sense. It would make no sense at all. Oshitari had to ask, had to know. Next to him Fuji caught his eyes - calculating, fitting pieces together just like he was.
“Have abilities? Can set things on fire spontaneously? Am inhuman?” Yukimura’s voice rose in register with every word he said. “Come on, Oshitari, don’t be stupid. What did you think this new fighting technique could be? How do you think people have fought before the corporation, or firearms for that matter, were invented? With sticks and clubs? They need people like me, people like you. Surely you must’ve guessed, must’ve felt it, even a little.”
People like me? Oshitari thought fleetingly, and met Fuji’s eyes. No, people like us. And then- oh, so that’s what it is, they thought.
“So, are we catching up now?” Yukimura went back to his regular tone, only layered with cynicism. “Great. Now trust me when I say you better stay out of this, and get the hell away.”
He’s completely mad, Oshitari thought, and Fuji shook his head. Not mad, just broken. We should fix it.
“Stop that.” Yukimura glared at them.
“Come with us.” Oshitari wasn’t sure who it was that spoke, he or Fuji. It didn’t matter.
“No.” Yukimura exhaled, exasperated. “I told you to stay away. It’s too late for me, it’s not too late for you.”
“You’re being overly dramatic.” This time Oshitari knew he was the one who spoke.
“You played with us,” Fuji said quickly before Yukimura could respond. “You came here and you played. You could’ve simply stayed away then - why didn’t you?”
A moment and Yukimura’s face wasn’t angry anymore, just sad and tired and a little bit confused. He lowered his head and his hair covered his eyes. “I saw you and I wanted to play. It was a mistake.”
“Why?” Fuji approached Yukimura, ran his hand down his shoulder. Instantly Oshitari moved forward, to stand by him on his other side.
“I shouldn’t play.” Yukimura’s voice lost its color, became monotonous.
“But why?” He seemed so fragile again, that Oshitari couldn’t be angry anymore.
“It might stop if I play. This - everything.” Yukimura waved his hand vaguely in front of him. “They said they’re not sure it would remain stable.”
“Because of tennis?” Oshitari had to laugh.
“Why do you think you were specially recruited?” Yukimura’s tones rose once again. “Think.” He said sharply.
Pieces falling into place. Sometimes, Oshitari thought, it was better when the world didn’t make sense. Fuji nodded in agreement, half laughing half composed.
“So it wouldn’t be stable,” Oshitari finally managed to recollect himself. “Maybe. You wouldn’t know until you try.”
“I wouldn’t know anyway.” Yukimura took a step back, withdrew away from them. “I just don’t know. Maybe it’ll last forever, maybe it won’t. Maybe tomorrow I’ll combust and kill you all. Which is why you have to stay away, before it gets worse with you too. It’s too late for me, but you can still get away. Have a life.”
“Oh, come on.” One stride, and Oshitari was in front of Yukimura again. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You can still get out, you’re just too afraid to do so. Time passes, you have to learn to move on with it.”
“Why, like you have?” The question rang in the cold night air.
Oshitari stood motionless. From the corner of his eye, he could see Fuji lower his head.
“I thought so.” Yukimura didn’t even sound gloating, just hopeless.
“We could at least try.” Oshitari could feel Fuji’s agreement, could remember the days since joining the corporation - how the past slowly became truly the past, how the present started to take an actual, colorful shape. “Including you. All of us, we could at least try.”
“Us?” Yukimura sounded doubtful.
“It can be done.” Fuji raised his head, looked at the two of them with a slender smile on his face.
“You’re only saying that because at the time you thought so, but you know that failed.” Yukimura laughed drily, and then winced. “I’m sorry.”
I’ll tell you, one day, Fuji answered Oshitari’s worried glance, and out loud he said, “It failed then, but it could still work now.”
“But what about the other world? What about the corporation? They still have plans for you. And I’m still unstable, as long as I stay with you.” Yukimura kept the same gray tone, but his eyes - Oshitari’s heart beat rapidly at the sight - his eyes started to shine.
“We’ll deal,” he said decisively, and reached for Fuji’s hand. They encircled Yukimura, and he turned - from one of them, then to the other - and slowly a smile began blooming on his face.
“The corporation doesn’t need to know a thing, for the time being,” Fuji said with a wicked smile of his own. “and if something comes up, we’ll deal with it.”
“Worst case scenario,” Oshitari added, “We all quit, go rogue, and pose as tennis instructors by day.”
Yukimura laughed, and they drew him into their arms, tightened around him in an embrace.
Oshitari had never imagined he would end up like this.
But nothing could ever be perfect. And this - whatever this was, whatever it was the three of them shared - this was just about good enough.
For: llamachan
Title: Good Enough
Characters: Oshitari/Fuji/Yukimura
Rating: PG. Maybe PG-13.
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis.
Warnings: Canon is still canon, but the world is AU.
Summary: Oshitari had never imagined he would end up like this.
Notes: llamachan - I’m not sure this is exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy. ^^ To my beta and my nearly-beta - thank you for your support.
Oshitari had never imagined he would end up like this.
This, he mused as he followed a nameless agent through dark, long corridors, was not even something he ever thought had existed, up until a few weeks back. It definitely wasn’t the most bizarre job he was ever offered, had ever taken, neither the most exciting one - although he supposed he couldn’t judge that until he’d be out there in the field himself, seeing some real action - but it was definitely the one job he could never, ever really imagine being offered. Or taking, for that matter, but the moment they cornered him in his usual ramen bar, in their dark, secret-agent-like suits and sunglasses, he knew he’d take their offer.
Not that it didn’t surprise him, when he heard it at first, but it had been a long time since surprise had managed to disturb him enough to ever be taken into notice when making a decision. Besides, he was an adapter, as he had proven over and over ever since he got out of school - so what was a another little change in perspective? Variables were always added, but the equation as a whole had always stayed more or less the same. It wasn’t as if this new revelation had made his whole world crumble to pieces, his life suddenly seen in a new light.
Although junior-high tennis did suddenly make a lot more sense.
So supernatural forces did exist. He could live with that. So there were people who had made a living by researching, keeping track of and hunting said supernatural beings. That had been reasonable enough, he supposed, and even if it hadn’t, had sounded cool enough that all questions of reason would remain in low priority. No, he concluded as the agent directed him towards an ordinary-looking door, just as he had concluded that first time after he had heard their proposition - there was nothing in this job that could frighten him, or cause any damage too severe to repair. Dangerous it might be, but- anything would be better than being unemployed, and bored. He could always move on again, had the need arisen - and for the time being he would enjoy this part of the world he had never seen before. Who knew, he might even find his place here, whatever this here would be.
Smiling to himself, he walked through the door.
Waking up in the morning had always been an awful experience, but the days of starting a new job - they had been the less worse. Oshitari liked new beginnings; liked waking up and not knowing what he was about to do today, getting dressed and humming to himself because he wasn’t yet too tired not to, trying out the new coffee shop on the way to work, getting off at a subway station he’d never really been to before. His first day had gone by fine, more or less, although mostly he was just surrounded by papers he had to read or sign or both until the end of the day. The rest of the week had been about as eventful as the first day - which was a slight disappointment, but it had been just the beginning. Besides, he had to admit the material was interesting enough, even if he did prefer his job description to include less studying and more actual action. His supervisor, Mori-san, when asked had said half jokingly that a month ago Oshitari hadn’t even known the other world, as they called it, existed, so wasn’t it only natural he learn a bit more about these things before going out there and witnessing them for himself? It had been just the sort of upright, proper answer Oshitari had expected, but it did make a kind of sense. So he got up every morning, went to work, and studied about vampires, or ghouls, or whatever else they told him to read about, while he also got to know his surroundings and teammates better at the same time.
The corporation (Japanese Corporation for Interdiction and Defence Against Supernatural Forces - but nobody really expected him to remember it, a smiling girl told him at lunch time; even the upper management called it the corporation, or the CID, while the guys simply called themselves “the corps”) branch in Tokyo was, surprisingly, not the biggest branch in Japan. That branch had been somewhere up in Hokkaido, where apparently the cold climate had been more to the likings of most known supernatural beings. Tokyo was not even the main Kanto branch, and Oshitari had been told they were more of a specialized section, for urban environment only. They were separated into two divisions, their main one and another, of a more military nature, which had bases scattered all around the city and its suburbs. People had also whispered to him, once they discovered he was a quiet yet keen listener, that there were rumors of another Tokyo branch, its nature kept tightly secret - but that was not to be discussed openly, at least not in their ranks.
He learned that he had been one of the few to have been specially recruited to the corporation, although nobody could tell him exactly what that meant. Most of his coworkers, Oshitari had discovered, had been quite ordinary, specially recruited or not; nice, polite and dedicated to their jobs. On the third day when he went shooting for the first time he had also discovered they were pretty deadly, but even that was done with an apologetic kind of ease, as though they would never harm anyone unless they really really needed to. “We don’t even usually use guns,” Tanaka told him when he took aim, “but it never hurts to be prepared.”
When Oshitari had wondered what they did with all the targets, if there was no use of firearms, Tanaka shrugged. “I didn’t say the corporation let them live,” he said. “Just that usually we aren’t the ones who use the guns.”
“Oh?” Oshitari took aim and shot, feeling the rush of adrenaline run through him at the loud sounds. He could get used to that. “Is that so?”
“Not bad.” Tanaka reloaded his own weapon and fired again. “Yeah, usually they send the military units for that. We just track and recover - recon stuff. They do the boring, dirty part of the job - and know how to dispose of the bodies afterwards.”
“Right.” Not that he minded, doing the more delicate work instead of brute killing, but wouldn’t it have been nice if they told him that beforehand? “So we never get involved in actual, uh, battles?”
Tanaka laid down his gun and wiped his brow. “Nearly never.” He grinned and motioned towards the door. “Come on, we’re done here. Anyway I wouldn’t worry about this if I were you, they say even the military division doesn’t handle many cases of actual combat lately. I guess the whole world’s getting too complicated for that, eh?”
“Yeah.” Oshitari put down the gun and followed him out, deciding not to ask any further, for the time being.
A week later he was given his first field assignment. As expected of his first time, he didn’t go alone.
Mori-san had to leave for another meeting before Oshitari’s partner had arrived, thus leaving Oshitari to welcome him all by himself. The young, slim man who had entered the room and was now standing before him with a polite, cryptic look in his eyes seemed unnervingly familiar.
“Oshitari Yuushi,” Oshitari bowed and then straightened, “Pleased to be working with you.”
The man chuckled. “Fuji Shuusuke. Nice to see you again, Oshitari.”
“Fuji. Imagine meeting you here.” He hadn’t heard that name in ten years, at least, ever since he graduated from high-school and stopped coming to Atobe’s parties, or maybe even before, when the Seigaku tennis gang had disbanded and gossip had become too depressing to be entertaining. He couldn’t resist asking, “Are there any more of us, tennis boys, around here? It’d be funny if this were a kind of a pattern.”
Fuji’s eye’s darkened just a bit, and without meaning to Oshitari had felt as though he had struck a nerve. “Some, maybe, in the corps. Not in Tokyo, though.”
Oshitari was tempted to ask - what he had been up to, in all those years, why he wouldn’t speak of the others - but the past was the past for a reason, and they had better things to do. “I understand you will be guiding me in this mission.” Pragmatism was always a useful solution to awkward situations, and this one was no different.
“Yes.” Fuji began pacing back and forth in the small meeting room, his shoes tapping softly on the wooden floor. “This, and the next ones, until management decides you’re good enough to work on your own. Don’t look so grim,” he paused abruptly in front of him and smiled, “We may work in bigger teams sometimes, and I’m sure you’ll find I’m more than adequate.”
It was an instinct to smile back; answer the challenge, get into the game that is interpersonal relations that go beyond fleeting acquaintances. Oshitari smirked slowly. “I’ve no doubt. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Good.” There shouldn’t have been any of that in this new job, Oshitari thought, seeing old faces, meeting ghosts from the past; but Fuji seemed just as eager to leave the suject unmentioned any further, and ten years had been a long time - so long it was ridiculous to think of it as relevant now, even though they both probably knew that maybe it still was.
“I suppose the details will be supplied as we make our way?” Oshitari had gone back to serious, enabling a smooth retreat.
“Of course.” Fuji resumed his pacing and headed for the door. “Follow me, please, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
And a moment later, they were off.
“So what exactly are we supposed to be doing?” Oshitari didn’t usually mind asking questions when he didn’t know the answer, but something about Fuji’s knowing silence made him fidget in his seat.
“Reconnaissance.” Fuji steered them carefully through a clutter of other cars, managing somehow to pass the mess without lingering in it too long. Oshitari thought about being too old to argue over who drives. “A bunch of kids are meddling with dark magic, again, and we’re to make sure what they do doesn’t harm anyone.”
“That’s it?” He couldn’t supress a slight tone of disappointment. “I’m sure it’s important and all, but-“
“They’re only people?” Fuji cut in.
Oshitari lowered his gaze to his lap. “Yes.”
“Well,” and even without looking Oshitari could tell from his tone that Fuji was smiling, that thin, sharp, humorless smile of his, “Management recons we should keep everything in check. That includes humans, even though they usually don’t pose half the danger anything else could.”
“I understand.” This wasn’t fun anymore. There was too much bizarre and practicality and not enough fun. “Are we always going to do this, this… regular, maintenance business? Was I told to read that material just in case? Or do I have to transfer to one of the military units if I want something more?”
Fuji braked suddenly, the car screeching to a halt at the side of a deserted street, and turned to face him the moment the car was completely still. “Look,” he said, and his eyes gleamed dangerously, ocean blue barely seen through narrow slits. “When I heard you were joining the corps I asked to be your partner. Because I remembered you. Because I thought it’d fun. But if that’s how it will be…” He paused and shook his head, and then continued. “You don’t know the half of what we’re doing. You’ve been with us how long, a week?”
Ten days, Oshitari wanted to say, but it wouldn’t have made any difference.
“Fine, I’ve been here longer. I’ve seen stuff, Oshitari. I know stuff. Sometimes it feels like I know too much. We’re not here to play cool and blow monsters up, we’re doing a job. An important one.”
“I-“ Oshitari opened his mouth, not sure yet whether he wanted to apologize or protest that he wasn’t as naïve and irresponsible as Fuji might’ve thought, he just-
“And I know you know all this and you didn’t really mean that, but if I hadn’t told you all of this now you would’ve never stopped, not until we’ve met our first demon for real, and I really don’t feel like waiting until that happens.”
“Right.” Oshitari nodded, once. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
Fuji half smiled at him and turned the car on. “I know. And don’t worry, it won’t be as dull as you think. Even when they’re human.”
“Yeah, I imagine that’s so.” Oshitari sneaked a glance at him when he was looking ahead, not as angry or tired as before. “We will meet a real demon one day though, right?”
The glare Fuji gave him was answer enough.
When they finally reached the house, something was clearly not right.
“Is this-?” Oshitari tried looking into the cloud of darkness that surrounded the building, tried to focus his gaze but found his eyes kept glancing away, unable to look directly at… whatever it was.
“I’m afraid so.” Fuji looked around for a moment, then at the dark-shrouded house again. “Yes, this is the place. And I was hoping this would be an easy one.”
“So there’s a problem.” He should’ve guessed. He had this unnatural tendency to find trouble anywhere he went, and this job wasn’t any different after all. It was good, he supposed; he was nearly beginning to worry.
Fuji slowly made his way towards where the house front would’ve been, had they been able to see it. “Someone did a sloppy job. We should’ve gotten here sooner.”
Oshitari followed Fuji hesitatingly, step by step. It was like walking under water, every step they made slow and deliberate, requiring more effort than it seemed. Behind him Oshitari could still see the street - their car parked, a street light flickering in the corner of his eye - but in front of him he could only see, nearly feel, the dark. He blinked. It seemed deeper than it seemed a moment ago. “Fuji?” He called out.
In front of him, out of the darkness, Fuji had appeared suddenly, a mere few inches from him. Oshitari could feel his breath on his face, had to cross his eyes in order to look Fuji straight in the face. He stumbled back and hit the pavement. His hands clung to the cold stone beneath him; solid. Solid was good.
“It won’t harm you.” Fuji’s voice was gentler than he had expected, and when he stepped towards him and offered him his hand for help Oshitari took it and pulled himself up. “Are you okay?”
Oshitari brushed his hands on his trousers and scowled. “I guess. You shouldn’t have charged forward like this without me. I’m new here, remember?”
“Sorry. I know.” Fuji rolled his eyes. “Someone here, somewhere, very probably one of the silly kids I mentioned before, has summoned a demon.”
“Oh.” Oshitari waved his hands around. “And this, all this… stuff is part of the side effects?”
“More or less.” Fuji grimaced. “At least we know it’s not a very powerful demon, since this is harmless. It’s good they didn’t call on something bigger, or took the whole house with them to another dimension, or… whatever. Kids these days.”
“Why can’t they just play tennis, eh?” Oshitari looked around again. “So what are we supposed to do now?”
“Like I said, it’s harmless.” Fuji began walking again, slowly, motioning Oshitari to follow. “We get in, find the demon, get out. Maybe we’ll give the kids a bit of advice, though I believe they’ve already learned a valuable lesson today.”
“Are we supposed to call for help?” Oshitari asked. “Backup, army, something like that? For the demon, I mean.”
“It’ll take too long. Come on.”
Oshitari stayed close to Fuji, walking through the entrance path and up the stairs, climbing, blindly, hand clutching the bannister tightly all the time. In front of him Fuji moved gracefully, making only deliberate sounds for Oshitari to follow. When they reached the entrance he suddenly grabbed Oshitari’s hand and kicked the door open, pulling him quickly into a small entrance hall and closing the door behind them again.
The darkness was gone. The hall was poorly lit - one lamp still feebly working, the other one out. On the left was a staircase, and at the other end of the hall was a lift.
“The stairs, I think.” Fuji let go of Oshitari’s hand and headed to the stairs, pausing only to make sure Oshitari followed. “I’m afraid we can’t count on electricity as long as that thing’s loose.”
Oshitari didn’t bother asking him how he knew.
They climbed the stairs cautiously, and for a moment Oshitari had entertained himself with the thought of guns, drawn and held closely to the chest. He should’ve argued with Tanaka over that “no guns” habit some more.
On the third floor, Fuji had stopped and looked around, as if smelling the air. Oshitari sniffed - it had smelled just like the rest of the stairwell, damp and a little mouldy, like the place had been closed off for a while too long.
“In here,” Fuji said and turned, to their right, an apartment entrance which seemed just like all the others they had passed.
Oshitari could feel it in his blood, the rush, and suddenly there was a pounding in his ears. “Can I?” He approached the door, tensing his shoulders.
“Sure.”
He slammed into the door forcefully and it opened with a loud bang. He stumbled, regained his balance and looked around at the room he had entered. At first glance, nothing - a mat on the floor, a low table, a small cupboard at the corner. And then he noticed them - the children. They weren’t really children, more like high-school students, maybe junior-high, but the way the were huddled in the corner resmbled little kids, scared and inexperienced, trying desperately to make as little noise as they could. Their eyes were closed, he noticed, and they were shaking, hugging themselves and one another and trembling, whispering soundless words into the air.
“Are you-“ he spoke softly, trying to come close without alarming them, when something leaped onto him from behind.
It was quick, and strong, and as Oshitari called out and tried to shake it off he could feel claws stuck into his back, heard a high shriek by his ear. He cried out and shook his back more fiercely, a week of training passing in his head as quick as lightning, and then ran backwards and slammed himself against the wall. The claws’ grip loosened, for a moment, and he hit the creature against the wall again. For a moment he felt it slip - he reached back and tried to grab it, pull it off - but then there was a sharp pain in his arm and then his shoulder, talons digging into his flesh again. He tripped forward. He could feel the creature - demon - breathing on his neck, could feel its grip tighten even more and even though he tried, twisting and bending - his arm hurt so goddamned much - he just- he couldn’t-
He felt something wet on the nape of his neck; heard a faint sound of slicing and the gurgles of the demon that followed. Then the claws left his back and he heard a thud, and when he turned around Fuji Shuusuke was standing above what had to be a dead demon, smiling thinly and holding a knife in his hands.
Moments passed. The only sounds heard were their breathing and the children’s shuffling, still gathered at the corner of the room. Fuji looked at his knife for a moment and then shrugged, cleaned it on his shirt and concealed it somewhere, too fast for Oshitari to see.
“We should go now,” Fuji said, breaking the silence.
Oshitari straightened slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Fuji’s smile widened; just a fraction.
“What about them?” Oshitari asked.
“It’ll take them a while to get over it, but they’ll live.” Fuji gave them one look of disdain and then turned towards the door. “We’ll call headquarters when we’re back in the car, they’ll decide what to do with them.”
“What about the parents?” It was still relatively early, when they went in. Oshitari glanced at his watch - it was still early now, only a few minutes passed. “Huh.”
“They’ll be dealt with too, if that becomes necessary.” They left the apartment without glancing back, into the suddenly brighter stairwell, down the stairs, out to the street. The darkness was gone, leaving only regular twilight behind. Fuji opened the car and Oshitari got in, sinking into his seat with a sigh. Fuji didn’t join him just yet - he stood at the far corner of the car, dialing and then speaking on the phone to someone in a hushed voice. When he was done he sat beside Oshitari, leaning back, not yet turning the engine on.
“Silly kids,” he murmured.
Oshitari nodded in silent agreement. “At least we got here in time.”
“Yes.” The setting sun cast dim, red light on Fuji’s face, and Oshitari watched him silently watching the house they had just left. After a while he sighed and started the car.
“So what does the corporation do, in cases like these?” Oshitari asked when they were a safe distance away, on the highway. “What does ‘dealing’ mean?”
Fuji shrugged. “Sometimes, they’re given false explanations. People will usually buy anything just to avoid the truth. Sometimes we simply pay them to be quiet.” He tapped on the steering wheel for a few moments and then added, “Sometimes even more severe measurements are taken. You’ll understand, in time.”
“You certainly like to keep people in the dark.” Oshitari was only half joking when he said that.
Fuji chuckled. “Only the new people.”
“Right. Which is why you know all of this and I don’t?”
“You develop a sense for it, after a while. It’ll happen to you too, if you stay here long enough.”
It was getting dark. Fuji glanced at him as if he was about to add something, but didn’t say a thing.
“Do you want to grab a drink?” Oshitari suddenly asked, thinking about the long, lonely ride home from the office, about having to patch himself up, attend to the scratch, or whatever it was, the demon left on his arm.
“Sure.” Fuji’s answer was almost too fast, and Oshitari smiled to himself when the other man wasn’t looking. “Let’s just get the car back, and take care of that wound of yours.” Fuji slowed down and turned at an intersection, and then cast a fleeting look at himself. “And let me change first.”
Once familiar faces would quickly become familiar once again, Oshitari had learned. Renewing relations, although against his general habit of leaving the past behind, had been refreshing. He found that he didn’t mind getting closer to Fuji - there was, after all, no painful mutual history, just a reciprocal silent recognition of the same past, and an agreement not to let it come up in a conversation more than necessary.
They worked well together, Oshitari discovered. Fuji wasn’t exaggerating when he spoke of his experience; sometimes it seemed to Oshitari as though he was obtruding in a game to which he knew no rules, while Fuji was so familiar with it he could play it with his eyes closed and not miss a beat. He liked most of the jobs they had to do, even the ones that had to do with humans - it was like performing, he found, and keeping up the normal appearance for the outside world was just as important as keeping the other world in check.
Learning from Fuji was fun. He was just as quick as Oshitari, if not more so, and sometimes it had seemed as though they barely needed to talk - a word, or two, and a glance, and they could understand each other perfectly. Hanging out with Fuji had been just as fun - they would usually head out of work, sometimes board a train, and find themselves a concealed bar or restaurant where they could talk and drink, drink and talk for hours.
Endless, stretching work hours had turned into endless, often carried on until the night discussions; long, lone bus rides to nowhere had turned into long conversations over a cup of coffee, which admittedly also went nowhere in particular. They discussed literature and art, spoke of sports and weather. They talked of the human nature, in an attached kind of way, and sometimes breached the subject of politics. “Once you find out everything is connected,” Fuji told him, “the government, the corporation, the police - even the yakuza, though few care to admit this - it’s less interesting to see the world from outside.” Oshitari thought he had understood.
Fuji told Oshitari about the days before the corporation had began to operate - how, centuries ago, the other world wasn’t as separated from the world of humans, and myths were created; how the corporation believed there came a time when an ancient organization, very much like themselves, had taken measures to purge the earth and created the delicate status quo which existed, with occasional periods of ups and downs, until these very days. When he spoke of their job Fuji was always serious - his face at ease, his eyes gazing far away, unfocused. Had Oshitari been the poetic type he would’ve said that sometimes Fuji had seemed as though he lived in the other world, and only visited their normal one to share his occasional preternatural grace and advice.
Had he been the nostalgic type he would’ve realized maybe this was what they had all felt about Fuji, even at junior high school.
Oshitari told Fuji tales about the places he’d been to, the people he had seen. Fuji mentioned once, in a fleeting kind of way, that it hadn’t been long since his graduation from university that he started working for the corporation, and therefore had not much to tell that didn’t have to do with it, in one way or another. Oshitari laughed and Fuji had answered, in mock irritation, “Why, I suppose you’ve led a much more interesting life until now?”
“I have,” Oshitari said, and that was how the tales began. Fuji accepted everything he said with an amused doubtfulness, and Oshitari was slowly beginning to enjoy it - extricating the more eccentric tales from the depths of his memory, coming out with sudden, unexpected declarations, just enough to tease.
“I even worked as a host once, you know,” he told Fuji one day, raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“I see,” Fuji answered in a low voice, and quirked his lips into a smile which lasted barely a second, and then the both of them were laughing, and for a while Fuji invented stories for Oshitari which had excelled even his own.
It was at the end of one of their missions, while they were huddled together in a tiny alcove, breathing erratically, waiting for the army unit to arrive, when Fuji had first asked Oshitari for a game.
Walking onto the court felt painfully familiar. Oshitari had to dig through three long forsaken boxes until he found his racket, and they had to go and buy the balls beforehand. Too much dust to be worth the trouble, Oshitari said, and Fuji said “It’s been a while since I played.”
It was a fine afternoon, and they stretched leisurely, each going through an easy routine of his own, like no time had passed at all. They found the street courts nearly by coincidence, a few weeks back, and luckily enough they were deserted on this time of the day.
“Shall we?” Fuji took position at the far end of the court, without asking, and Oshitari shrugged, walked to his side, positioned himself and served.
It was a slow serve, and Fuji caught and returned it quickly, but not quick enough. They volleyed for a while, fast paced but not in a rush, until Oshitari almost deliberately hit a top spin and Fuji glared at him and hit a Tsubame Gaeshi, the ball dropping neatly into Oshitari’s court and rolling on the ground.
“Sorry,” Oshitari smirked before Fuji could say a word, and got ready to serve again.
As the game progressed and the adrenaline rushed, Oshitari discovered he was having a good time - swing, hit, move, plan ahead. It wasn’t a most complicated game, except for the occasional brilliant move - they were both once-acclaimed tennis prodigies, after all - but it was tennis, and it was fun. It felt good being back on the court after so long - he saw Fuji’s smile across the net, watched his body arch as he served - being back on any court.
Fuji won in the end, eyes wide open and looking right at Oshitari when he scored the final point, 7-5, and Oshitari laughed breathlessly and discovered he didn’t mind at all to lose.
After the game they sat together on a nearby bench, catching their breaths and watching the sun go down. Oshitari was still exhilarated from the match, a thin layer of sweat still covering his brow. Fuji, on the other hand, seemed to have collected himself quickly. He sat drawn into himself, and stared right ahead with a serious expression on his face.
Oshitari nudged him with his elbow. “Good game,” he said and smiled, trying to catch Fuji’s eyes.
“Yes,” Fuji answered and for a moment his eyes lit again, but on the next moment the shine was gone and he lowered his gaze down.
A soft wind rustled around them. It became cold, at once; the skies darkening just enough, the last rays of sunlight too few and far to provide any warmth. Oshitari shuddered and reached for his jacket. Fuji remained motionless.
Is everything alright, Oshitari wanted to ask, and maybe add, you can tell me. He watched Fuji intently, and opened his mouth.
“My brother is getting married tomorrow,” Fuji suddenly said.
Oshitari glanced at him from the corner of his eye, noticed the tense, firm way Fuji held himself, his hands clenched, his mouth drawn into a short, taut line. He remembered the way Fuji carried himself in their game, in their missions - at ease, lithe and graceful. Fuji was always stronger than he looked, he thought, except maybe when he looked strong.
“Oh,” he said. Jokes and speculations about the Fuji brothers had been flying around for years - and in the end, he thought, maybe it all came down to this. “Congratulations,” he said and meant - I’m sorry. He lay his hand on Fuji’s shoulder, felt his cold skin through the thin material, and tried to find more words of sympathy.
Fuji turned around and kissed him.
“Oh,” Oshitari said again, in a very different tone, and leaned to kiss him again.
Things were becoming very interesting, the next few weeks.
Their game was the first of many games; the kiss, the first of many kisses. It had to turn into a disaster at some point or another, Oshitari was sure - the way these things had always ended in high school didn’t bode well for them. But then again, they weren’t in high school anymore.
They settled into a comfortable routine - job and making out, missions and making out, tennis and making out. Fuji rarely became as serious as he had on that day, and had instead spent most of his time smiling at Oshitari maliciously, and thinking of new creative places to spend their lunch break together. It was becoming distracting, not that Oshitari would complain, up to the point they had to change the seating arrangements in the conference room. It seemed as though being close to one another was enough to make them think exactly the same thing. And kissing with Fuji was never just kissing.
Falling into this new pattern had been easy. It felt almost like the first time - the both of them having grown so far of who they once were, the affairs each of them might have had. They didn’t share intimacy, but something far more enjoyable - a new possibility for one, perhaps.
Some of the corps had frowned upon this new, unexplainable tightening of their bond - not that they knew exactly what sort of bond it was, or so Oshitari had hoped. Their supervisor, Mori-san, on the other hand, had called Oshitari one day for a personal meeting and told him how pleased he was with his excellent adaptation to his position and his partner. Oshitari had thanked him and smiled politely, and then had to politely decline when Mori-san had offered that he and Fuji be transferred to an office of their own, to allow them to work together without interferences. Fuji laughed at him when he got back from the meeting that day.
Work in those days had been a strange mix of urgency and leisure; the research and tracking missions increasing, every day, in numbers and scale, while the actual retrieval and combatting had decreased to nearly zero. There were rumors of the military division opening in some grand-scale operation, and yet those who knew persons from that division personally had said that on the contrary - the military activity of the corporation had been even less frequent than their own. Oshitari wondered about this, one lazy afternoon in Fuji’s apartment, and Fuji chuckled and said that if Oshitari felt the need to work so bad, he could find ways to keep him occupied. When time had passed and yet there seemed no inclination to return to their previous form of work, Fuji said more seriously that maybe someone in upper management was considering a big change, and these days had been the preceding signs - like the calm before the storm.
Oshitari tended to agree. Personally, he thought the first lightning had struck on the day they first saw a lone figure by their tennis court, standing afar, watching them play.
Yukimura Seiichi had seemed as though barely a day had passed since they had finished high school. They did not notice him, not until they were in the middle of the game, and only recognized him when it came to an end. He stood in the shadows, far enough to be considered a passerby had he not been standing there for their entire game, and he did not speak to them when they were done. Oshitari barely managed to notice his expression - his face drawn in concentration, his eyes mesmerized to their moves, burning with hunger - before he turned and walked away.
“Did you-“ Oshitari threw his towel around his neck and reached for the bottle of water.
“Yes,” Fuji said. They exchanged a look between them.
“It was-“
“Yukimura, yes.”
“I wonder what he was doing here.”
“Me too.” Fuji slipped the bottle from between his hands and took a sip for himself. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”
Oshitari elbowed him good-naturedly for the bottle. “Me too.”
They stopped at his apartment to take a quick shower and then made their way to work. After the entrance procedures they were greeted by an excited crowd, all headed to the main conference room. Apparently, management had a big announcement to make. Fuji didn’t need to tell Oshitari I told you so.
Mori-san was standing by the head of the table, looking even more formal and solemn than usual. In the seat next to him sat Yukimura.
Faint murmurs were spreading though the crowd; they weren’t the only ones who recognized Yukimura. Most faces were looking at him blankly, but here and there they could notice a look of recognition, and these faces passed the murmurs on. Oshitari touched Fuji’s hand briefly, raised an eyebrow in question, but Fuji nodded and answered with a clueless look of his own.
Mori-san coughed, and slowly the room quieted.
Oshitari tried to catch Yukimura’s eyes, but Yukimura sat with his hands in his lap, looking straight ahead, and didn’t move.
“Some of you remember Yukimura-san,” Mori-san said. The room began to rustle again, but then Mori-san continued. “As some of you have already guessed, in the last few years the CID have been developing a new, improved way to fight against the dangers of the other world. Today, after years of hard work, I am proud to say we have succeeded. Yukimura-san, as a vital member of our development team, has joined our branch once again, this time with the important purpose of integrating the old and new - help us all learn how to work together with the corporation’s newest methods, and make our contributions towards turning our world into a better, safer world.
“As the details of Yukimura-san’s way of action are still classified, I ask of you this: until the operation moves to its next stage and the integration becomes nationwide, please keep this information to yourselves and do not discuss it with other corporation workers. Also, I ask of you to assist Yukimura-san in any way you can, with whatever he requires. Come time I promise you you will hear more details from myself and from Yukimura-san, and you will learn how to adapt to this new, improved corporate structure. Until then, I trust you all to do your very best, each in his position. Thank you all for your cooperation.”
As his fellow workers streamed out of the conference room, Oshitari tried to catch Yukimura’s eyes once again. Apart from some more technical announcements, Mori-san didn’t add anything about Yukimura and his actual role in their branch, which meant they knew about it practically nothing. Yukimura kept looking straight ahead during the whole speech, and Oshitari wondered what it was - that made his face so fixed and apathetic; so different from the face he saw, or thought he saw, that very morning.
Fuji waited for him outside when he finally came out of the room. They walked to the lift silently. They were the last to leave; small groups of people already scattering in the hall, each to his office and duty. When they were inside the lift, just the two of them, Fuji broke the silence.
“So.”
“Yes.” Oshitari agreed.
“I wonder what it is exactly he’s doing.”
Oshitari shot him a look. “You sure you don’t know?”
Fuji shook his head. “I can only guess. Just like you.”
“Your guesses tend to be awfully accurate. Unlike mine.” Oshitari winked at him just as the lift’s door opened. They straightened and got out, avoiding looking at each other. Oshitari knew anyway that Fuji was smiling.
“You’re getting better,” Fuji said amusedly. “And anyway, right now my guesses are pretty vague.”
“Right.” They walked relaxedly to the main office, talking in low voices. Despite the big announcement having been made, there still hadn’t been any new orders, which meant they were in no need to hurry. “But you know more than me,” Oshitari remembered. “What did Mori-san mean, about Yukimura being here again? Was he here before?”
Fuji shrugged. “He was here for a while. Longer than me, actually - he was here for a while already when I arrived. But then some day he just disappeared. I didn’t know where they transferred him - I thought maybe he just left.”
“How long ago was that?” Oshitari asked. Judging from Fuji’s expression, the slight frown on his lips, it was probably-
“A long time ago.” Fuji’s eyes became distant for a moment, and Oshitari looked around, made sure the corridor was empty, and touched his shoulder briefly.
Whatever it was, it’s over now, Oshitari wanted to say, and Fuji smiled at him thankfully.
“So… what do you think happened to Yukimura?” Oshitari lingered his hand on Fuji’s back for a few seconds, and regretfully drew it back. There was a limit to how long the walk to the office could take. “Why is he like that?”
Fuji didn’t ask what ‘like that’ meant. “I’m not sure. But he was like this even before - even then.”
Oshitari thought about Yukimura sitting motionless in the conference room. “But why?”
Fuji stopped walking, right before the entrance to the office, and pulled him to the corner behind the door. Oshitari chuckled and let himself be pulled, but Fuji only found his hand with his and pressed it tightly. “He lost his team,” Fuji murmured.
“You mean… they died?” Oshitari also lowered his voice. Death among comrades was the one thing the corps never joked about, never mentioned if it was possible.
“No. His team.” Fuji accentuated the word and it caused a slight stab, one Oshitari had almost stopped feeling completely. He was grateful for Fuji’s warm hand in his.
“You mean-“ but there wasn’t really a need to ask.
“From high-school.” Fuji laughed a short, humorless laugh. “Yes. Look at him closely, next time, and you’ll see.”
So he looked.
Yukimura didn’t talk much, but he seemed to appear everywhere, on the strangest moments. He never spoke beyond the most necessary instructions, and management, although not declaring so openly, encouraged no further interaction between their special new talent and the regular corps members. Despite the days passing by, Yukimura’s function didn’t become any clearer. He would show up, demand a specific detail, or the newest outcomes or reports, and then walk away without even a word of thanks. Oshitari watched him closely, but from afar, wherever he went - for some reason almost fascinated by his expressionless face, by Fuji’s few words about him.
He remembered how once, long ago, Yukimura had been the strongest person he had - all of them had - ever seen. There was still strength, nowadays - he caught a glimpse of Yukimura training one day, all by himself, and thought that perhaps by physical standards Yukimura was now stronger than ever. You could see it when he moved, hear it in the tone of his voice on the rare occasions that he spoke, feel it whenever he entered a room - but when observing closely like Fuji had told him, it seemed as though that strength was lacking something.
Yukimura always sat by himself. He barely sat at all, always on the way to some place or another, but when he did sit, he always seemed to be surrounded by an invisible barrier that never came down. He walked with his head held high and never looked back - almost too intent on looking forward, his eyes never straying from the path ahead. Looking at him, Oshitari thought that Fuji’s words had made sense, nearly too much. It seemed as though something in Yukimura was buried deep bellow the surface, never to fully come out again, as though he realized he had lost something, long ago, that he would never gain back anymore.
Sometimes Oshitari thought that both he and Fuji could relate to that feeling.
Strangely enough, the only times Yukimura had seemed any different were when he was watching the two of them play tennis.
On the day after his arrival at the corporation, when Oshitari and Fuji had gone to a game after work, he was there again, watching them intently just as he had on the day before. It continued, as the days went by - no matter at what hour, or on which day - whenever they came to the courts he was already there. He never spoke to them, and they never spoke to or of him. Fuji and Oshitari had exchanged a look between them on the first time they had seen him near the courts again, and silently it was decided not to mention it until he came to them. They played as usual, and Yukimura watched them, and when Oshitari cast a look at him midgame he could see his body stressing and relaxing correspondingly to the game, his fingers stretching as if holding a racket. They could always feel the hungry look in his eyes - such a strong contrast to his indifference at work that Oshitari somehow wondered how it could be the same person, the one watching them so eagerly on the courts and the stone-faced man at the office.
Once he dared to experiment and after their game he kissed Fuji, across the net. He looked at Yukimura beyond Fuji’s shoulder, not sure what he was waiting for. Yukimura was still watching them, as fixed as ever; his arms were drawn around himself tightly and his mouth twisted into a strange expression, but his eyes burned exactly the same.
Fuji didn’t say anything when Oshitari pulled him closer, slid his hand up his shirt. He opened his eyes for a moment, looked Oshitari straight in the eye, and then bit his lip and grasped his back, hard enough to bruise.
At work that day Yukimura had said nothing to them, as usual.
“Can I join you?”
Oshitari thought at first he was imagining the question.
They stood on the court on early evening, ready to start the game. Yukimura hadn’t been there when they arrived - hadn’t been at work the whole day, in fact, so their surprise at his absence was mild. Fuji was getting ready to serve when Yukimura appeared, and then the question was asked.
They exchanged a look between them. Yukimura stood by the net, waiting for their answer, eyes focused on the ball on the ground as if he couldn’t care less. Oshitari raised an eyebrow as if saying, what should we do? And Fuji lowered his racket and shook his head - it’s about time this happened.
“Sure,” Oshitari answered, after a few moments of silence, and stepped forward to hand Yukimura his racket. “Go ahead, I’ll act as referee. Fuji could probably use someone new to lose to.”
Fuji crossed his hands, unimpressed, and Oshitari chuckled. Yukimura didn’t answer the remark and took the racket, hand immediately curling around the handle, the other hand checking the strings. Fuji and Oshitari exchanged another look but Yukimura didn’t seem to notice, and when he took Oshitari’s previous place on the court Fuji walked back to his position and Oshitari went to stand outside the court.
He called the beginning of the game and they started playing. Yukimura didn’t have that same connection with Fuji as he had - their movements on the court weren’t as synchronized, the tension between them not as familiar and comfortable. Nevertheless, they were both marvelous. Oshitari could barely follow the ball, could barely concentrate on their moves, watching with delight the beautiful, accurate dance that was their tennis. Fuji’s tennis he knew - had gotten to know well, during the past few months - and yet it never ceased to amaze him, every single time. The strong, lithe muscles, the way Fuji’s moves always flowed, harmonized and content. And Yukimura - it was almost painful, to see the look of utter devotion in his eyes. Yukimura played like he had met a long lost friend, like a drowning man who had suddenly been offered a hand. For the first time since that day they first saw him by the court, Yukimura seemed truly alive.
The game progressed quickly, and the further it went, the more concentrated Yukimura became. It wasn’t that Fuji was not a worthy foe - he was, and Oshitari admired the way he never gave up, fought point for point - but Yukimura, after settling into the game, was like tennis itself. When the final point was taken - a swift, smooth swing of the racket, a soft thud when the ball fell on the court - they all stood silently in their place, breathing heavily, letting the tension slowly drain from their bodies.
“Good game,” Fuji said faintly, still catching his breath. Oshitari nodded unconsciously in agreement. There was silence again.
For a moment, a smile broke on Yukimura’s face. For a moment he opened his mouth - to answer, or maybe - and that thought made Oshitari bite his lips, too unfamiliar and yet enticing at the same time - to lean forward and kiss Fuji across the net - but then that moment was gone. Yukimura’s face slipped back to his neutral, impassive mask, and without a word he lay the racket on the ground and then turned around and ran.
“He’ll be back,” Fuji predicted. Stepping more easily now he picked Oshitari’s racket up and handed it back to him. “And this time it’ll be your turn to lose.”
Oshitari took his racket. “We could avoid him, if that bothers you,” he teased, but the question behind his words was serious.
Fuji met his eyes. “Nah, it’s okay.” He flexed his arms and smiled, and then added in a more serious tone, “it seems he needs it.”
Too many words unsaid - pity, and understanding, and somehow Oshitari knew that Fuji knew about the kiss that didn’t happen - passed between them. They stood quietly for a while, and then Fuji sighed and Oshitari touched his hand briefly, and they left to make their way to work.
As Fuji had predicted, Yukimura was there the next morning.
Adding Yukimura to their strange little equation took a while, but it seemed to work. Sometimes Oshitari wondered, had more of the old high-school gang shown up, could they have joined as easily, or as quickly, but he wasn’t sure he knew the answer. Yukimura wasn’t just like anybody - he was Yukimura, and for him and Fuji that worked, somehow. He was still just as withdrawn to himself when they were at work together, but when they played he gave himself completely, and that was a sort of honesty that was good enough.
Both he and Fuji had treated Yukimura as though he was something fragile, delicate, in an agreement between them that they never bothered to word. Yukimura disliked that - he never said it, like he barely spoke at all, but they could feel it, feel him avoiding the looks in their eyes, or the way he went rigid when they gave him a smile after a good game. They still had a lot to figure out about him - they both knew it. And they both knew that they were equally intent to figure it all out one day, even though that was another one of the things they never bothered to say. The way Oshitari saw it he couldn’t hide anything from Fuji, so he didn’t even bother to try. He liked to think that at that stage of their familiarity, Fuji had felt the same about him. He didn’t try to hide the way he was eying Yukimura when they played because Fuji knew everything about it anyway, did the same himself. It could have turned into jealousy, or into a race, but they were both too clever for that. Instead it was more like a friendly challenge - trying to see who would find out more, before the inevitable break that would reveal all would occur.
While Yukimura didn’t actively respond to any of their advances, he did warm up to them with time. He still didn’t bother to do anything that could be remotely considered as socializing, but he stopped disappearing whenever he didn’t need them, began to linger more and more in the office, until he really needed to be somewhere else. It was getting to a point when Mori-san began noticing, and both he and Fuji were severely warned to stop interfering with Yukimura’s work. Luckily enough they were, both of them, too clever to ever receive something beyond a baseless warning.
The corporation began to slowly return to its previous pattern of work, and whispers at the dining hall were saying that the addition of Yukimura to their branch had been a mistake - that the secret fighting method management had praised so much wasn’t working properly, that they should’ve deserted that way of action long ago. Yukimura of course hadn’t said anything about any of those whispers, but they did note that as the days passed he seemed more and more tired. Only when he played the color returned to his cheeks, the glow to his eyes; like tennis was the only thing that sustained him, on those days of fervent action and whatever it was that he did.
Whether the rumors were true or not, it was apparent that the corporation was, indeed, in need of more agents in the field once again. Unsurprisingly, after the outside missions began to increase in numbers, it wasn’t long before Oshitari and Fuji were sent on a mission together again.
They were meant to track a vampire, find out where it came from; instead, they managed to find a whole nest. They were able of taking care of that nest by themselves, but this time the orders from management were clear - keep out of danger. Call the military division and get out of there.
Fuji made the call and they were on their way out, when the door to the nest - an abandoned warehouse, deep in the suburbs - rattled and opened. It was twilight outside - too dark to cause the vampires any damage when the door opened, but not dark enough to rouse them yet, or catch their attention. Too soon for the military unit to arrive, but too early for the intruder to be another vampire. At the sound of the opening door Fuji turned quickly and pulled Oshitari aside, behind two big crates. They waited breathlessly to see whoever would enter.
It was Yukimura.
Oshitari held his breath, and heard Fuji do the same. Yukimura seemed to glow - his eyes unnaturally bright in the dim lights, his teeth a stark white in his open, preying mouth. Oshitari shuddered at the sight. Yukimura looked like a hunter, like a real creature of the other world, and maybe there was sense in him being in charge of the corporation’s new weapon, after all. Next to him, Oshitari felt Fuji nod in agreement.
That didn’t ready him for what happened a moment later.
He wasn’t expecting it, or maybe he just wasn’t quick enough to notice, but a moment later Yukimura was suddenly near one of the vampires, a hand on his shoulder, and a second later that vampire began to burn. Another second - a blink of the eye, no more - and Yukimura was at the other of the room, his hand held forward. Two more vampires lying on the floor - and this time Oshitari thought he saw something, maybe noticed a dim glow - and then they were on fire too. Yukimura turned around and Oshitari saw the shadows flickering on his face from the flame, saw the thin film of perspiration on his forehead. His bare, empty hands.
Something that shouldn’t have made sense was suddenly very very clear, or maybe it was the other way around.
“Did you-“ Oshitari began asking Fuji and then paused. One of the other vampires was up - approaching Yukimura from behind, creeping silently. Oshitari opened his mouth again, to shout.
In a flash Yukimura turned. The vampire was frozen in his place, standing immobile in an unnatural position. Yukimura caught him easily by the neck and lifted him up; the vampire’s eyes widened for a second and then his neck, his back, his whole body were on flames, and a moment later he was a pile of dust by Yukimura’s legs.
Oshitari gasped and Fuji covered his mouth with his hand, just in time, to prevent him from making any sound.
Yukimura continued, walking, or appearing, around the room; Oshitari wasn’t sure he could actually see Yukimura move from place to place. Wherever he went, a moment later there were flames.
When the whole nest was on fire, smoke beginning to rise to the ceiling, Yukimura turned to leave. Fuji began moving, slowly, quietly, and Oshitari followed him and coughed, once.
Yukimura turned towards them.
They looked at each other silently. The fire made Yukimura’s face seem red and glistening, but the look in his eyes was cold. Fuji stood close to Oshitari, nearly touching him, and they both waited for Yukimura to speak.
Finally, he opened his mouth. “Get out of here,” he said, and left.
That night he waited for them on the courts, and they both somehow knew they had to come.
It hurt, surprisingly, to see Yukimura on the familiar courts with the cold, detached expression they knew from work. He was pacing, up and down the court, and when Fuji and Oshitari arrived - together, even though they didn’t call to meet - he walked in front of them and eyed them dispassionately.
It was cold. The street was dark. No one in their right mind would be there on that hour, Oshitari thought, and then had to suppress a chuckle - of course, that explained perfectly why they were all there.
“I need to talk to you,” Yukimura said, and Fuji nodded while Oshitari said, “alright.”
They waited quietly. Yukimura paced around before halting in front of them again. Oshitari took a deep breath. Next to him, Fuji was clenching and unclenching his hands. They waited more.
“You have to stay away from me,” Yukimura finally said.
Oshitari gave a low, unbelieving chuckle. “This is it? That’s your answer?” Fuji lay his hand on his arm but he wouldn’t stop. “That was what you had to say?”
Yukimura looked at the ground quietly. When he raised his head again, his face was angry. Oshitari nearly forgot Yukimura could have more than two expressions on his face.
“You need to stay away from me, because that would be best. There’s still hope for you two if you lay low now.”
Oshitari snorted. “Oh, come on-“
Fuji’s grip on his arm tightened, and Oshitari stopped. “Yukimura.” Fuji’s voice was soft. “We saw you today. At the warehouse. Would you please care to explain, before you tell us what to do?”
Yukimura looked around and scowled, some of the haughty attitude he possessed so gracefully at high-school appearing once again. “Just do as I say.”
“You know we won’t.” Fuji could be just as haughty, Oshitari thought fondly, and smiled.
“He’s right.”
Yukimura rolled his eyes. “You saw what happened today, right? What is there to explain? I’m the corporation’s new weapon. Me and- a few others, maybe. They wouldn’t like it if you don’t stay away. It could be dangerous, too, if you don’t.”
“You mean you actually-“ It would make perfect sense. It would make no sense at all. Oshitari had to ask, had to know. Next to him Fuji caught his eyes - calculating, fitting pieces together just like he was.
“Have abilities? Can set things on fire spontaneously? Am inhuman?” Yukimura’s voice rose in register with every word he said. “Come on, Oshitari, don’t be stupid. What did you think this new fighting technique could be? How do you think people have fought before the corporation, or firearms for that matter, were invented? With sticks and clubs? They need people like me, people like you. Surely you must’ve guessed, must’ve felt it, even a little.”
People like me? Oshitari thought fleetingly, and met Fuji’s eyes. No, people like us. And then- oh, so that’s what it is, they thought.
“So, are we catching up now?” Yukimura went back to his regular tone, only layered with cynicism. “Great. Now trust me when I say you better stay out of this, and get the hell away.”
He’s completely mad, Oshitari thought, and Fuji shook his head. Not mad, just broken. We should fix it.
“Stop that.” Yukimura glared at them.
“Come with us.” Oshitari wasn’t sure who it was that spoke, he or Fuji. It didn’t matter.
“No.” Yukimura exhaled, exasperated. “I told you to stay away. It’s too late for me, it’s not too late for you.”
“You’re being overly dramatic.” This time Oshitari knew he was the one who spoke.
“You played with us,” Fuji said quickly before Yukimura could respond. “You came here and you played. You could’ve simply stayed away then - why didn’t you?”
A moment and Yukimura’s face wasn’t angry anymore, just sad and tired and a little bit confused. He lowered his head and his hair covered his eyes. “I saw you and I wanted to play. It was a mistake.”
“Why?” Fuji approached Yukimura, ran his hand down his shoulder. Instantly Oshitari moved forward, to stand by him on his other side.
“I shouldn’t play.” Yukimura’s voice lost its color, became monotonous.
“But why?” He seemed so fragile again, that Oshitari couldn’t be angry anymore.
“It might stop if I play. This - everything.” Yukimura waved his hand vaguely in front of him. “They said they’re not sure it would remain stable.”
“Because of tennis?” Oshitari had to laugh.
“Why do you think you were specially recruited?” Yukimura’s tones rose once again. “Think.” He said sharply.
Pieces falling into place. Sometimes, Oshitari thought, it was better when the world didn’t make sense. Fuji nodded in agreement, half laughing half composed.
“So it wouldn’t be stable,” Oshitari finally managed to recollect himself. “Maybe. You wouldn’t know until you try.”
“I wouldn’t know anyway.” Yukimura took a step back, withdrew away from them. “I just don’t know. Maybe it’ll last forever, maybe it won’t. Maybe tomorrow I’ll combust and kill you all. Which is why you have to stay away, before it gets worse with you too. It’s too late for me, but you can still get away. Have a life.”
“Oh, come on.” One stride, and Oshitari was in front of Yukimura again. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You can still get out, you’re just too afraid to do so. Time passes, you have to learn to move on with it.”
“Why, like you have?” The question rang in the cold night air.
Oshitari stood motionless. From the corner of his eye, he could see Fuji lower his head.
“I thought so.” Yukimura didn’t even sound gloating, just hopeless.
“We could at least try.” Oshitari could feel Fuji’s agreement, could remember the days since joining the corporation - how the past slowly became truly the past, how the present started to take an actual, colorful shape. “Including you. All of us, we could at least try.”
“Us?” Yukimura sounded doubtful.
“It can be done.” Fuji raised his head, looked at the two of them with a slender smile on his face.
“You’re only saying that because at the time you thought so, but you know that failed.” Yukimura laughed drily, and then winced. “I’m sorry.”
I’ll tell you, one day, Fuji answered Oshitari’s worried glance, and out loud he said, “It failed then, but it could still work now.”
“But what about the other world? What about the corporation? They still have plans for you. And I’m still unstable, as long as I stay with you.” Yukimura kept the same gray tone, but his eyes - Oshitari’s heart beat rapidly at the sight - his eyes started to shine.
“We’ll deal,” he said decisively, and reached for Fuji’s hand. They encircled Yukimura, and he turned - from one of them, then to the other - and slowly a smile began blooming on his face.
“The corporation doesn’t need to know a thing, for the time being,” Fuji said with a wicked smile of his own. “and if something comes up, we’ll deal with it.”
“Worst case scenario,” Oshitari added, “We all quit, go rogue, and pose as tennis instructors by day.”
Yukimura laughed, and they drew him into their arms, tightened around him in an embrace.
Oshitari had never imagined he would end up like this.
But nothing could ever be perfect. And this - whatever this was, whatever it was the three of them shared - this was just about good enough.