3 matches. 2 lost. 1 won.

Of course it was something anyone had seen coming.

Germany was the 9 times in a row Junior Tennis World Champion.
Japan had fought well. The Japan representative, Tokugawa Kazuya had played a magnificent game that had fired everyone up.
His doubles partner, Yukimura Seiichi had proved himself to be a most remarkable ally.
Nothing was lost yet, anyway. It was only an introduction match.

But that's not how it works in tennis. It is a sport that above all, strives on mentality.

It is the most lonely sport in the world.

But 2 people had defied that rule today.
One in the war zone. The other from the sideline, watching over him.

.

The eyes of the media were not on those world champions.
Nor on the Captain of the defeated team.
Masses had surrounded a rather short and slender young boy.
No one had ever seen a player like him.

Fuji Syuusuke was the dark horse before the tournament had even begun.

.

Normally, Fuji loved such kind of attention. He knew it was a bit snobbish of him, but he had his ways to charm the public.

Only not today.

Today, his azure eyes scanned around.

For-
"err. Excuse me!" He made his way from the crowds, aided by the hand of his doubles partner, the gentle giant Watanabe Duke, who spoke to the press in his stead.

.

The group of black jerseys that Fuji had finally laid his eyes on were already moving out, not wasting any more time to return to their training and strategy meeting.

Before Fuji could stop himself, he had already called out to one of them.

"-Tezuka!"

Even after the tournament, Fuji feared that calling out to him would be like calling at the back of a stranger.
The color he was clad in was no longer the proud blue they both so cherished.
It was a depressing color that he was wearing.

But it was not the back of a stranger.
When the young man he called out to turned in his direction, for a moment, Fuji believed 'nothing has changed'.
It was that familiar face that had been beside him for the 3 best years of his youth.

.

Another person stopped along with Tezuka. A tall and intimidating bald man.

Fuji hadn't forgotten what this man had only just done to a good friend of him, Yukimura Seiichi.

But it was without a doubt a man who earned nothing but awe and respect.

.

"Kunimitsu." He spoke, his voice rather urging and commanding.

Tezuka spoke to him in German: "Ich komme gleich nach."

'I'll follow later.'

They exchanged a look. One could describe Tezuka's look as rather cocky. But he never meant to be disrespectful.

And Fuji was rather relieved to see this Jürgen Volk at least understood as much about him.

.

The man walked on, leaving the 2 of them alone.

In all honesty, Fuji wanted to ask then and there to switch locations.

The hallway of the stadium was cold, uncomfortable and anyone could come to interfere them.

But it wasn't like Tezuka had time to spare.

Were the things Fuji wanted to say even so important that he had to keep him up?

.

What even did he want to say to him? There were so many things. But nothing would come to Fuji's mind.

"..." He opened his mouth and closed it again.

All the while, Tezuka's eyes were on him.

Fuji could feel his throat burn. He wanted to yell or cry or run away.

Smiling that ever casual mask of his was so difficult in front of this person who could always pierce right through him.

Surely, even without saying anything, their conversation had already begun the moment their eyes locked.

.

"You look like you're doing well... have they been treating you alright?" Were the words Fuji started with, knowing right away how empty they sounded.

"Ahh..." Tezuka responded none the less. It wasn't an answer to avoid the topic or anything, like most people would interpret it.

Fuji knew Tezuka wasn't one to wrap matters in pretty words.

They weren't like that. Tezuka had never pretended to be anyone he was not when it came to Fuji.

And Tezuka was perhaps the only one Fuji never had to pretend to. He didn't have to and he couldn't.

Perhaps that was why this was so painful.

.

"...You left without a word." Fuji eventually cut to the case. His words weren't blaming Tezuka in any way. Because the things Tezuka did were always, without a question, the right thing.

As Fuji had played passionately once more, with this man watching over him, that was something he had realized once more.

But he still didn't quite understand why things had to be like this.

.

"Sorry.." Tezuka replied. And when Tezuka apologizes, he means it. But he didn't regret his actions. He knew this had to be done.

And Fuji wanted to know why...

.

Before Fuji could pick his next words, Tezuka continued: "You played well today."

It was such an ordinary thing to say. But Fuji could feel some weight slip off his shoulders.

.

"hm! So did you!" he replied with renewed energy, his usual smile showing back on his face and he took a deep breath, sighing.

"I won't run any longer."

Tezuka's usually knitted brows shot up with a bit of surprise.

In all honesty, he had believed Fuji wouldn't understand what he had tried to convey him that day. And yet he had hoped he would...

"I decided to stand on my own two legs and move on, forward." Fuji continued. "...but.. I suppose matters moved along to your scenario after all."

.

Tezuka's silence was something pleasant at moments like this. Fuji could speak when he was ready.

He had always relied on Tezuka like this.

Even when Fuji swore to himself deeply, almost bitterly, that he would fight on his own and would surpass Tezuka... he still ended up following him. He did what Tezuka had wanted him to do.

Perhaps their goals were overlapping, but it always ended up like that.

Even now, Tezuka was still his guide. His goal.

"Have I... gotten stronger?"

.

It wasn't a question about tennis. It never had been.

Fuji knew well enough that he was good at tennis. As he is good in so many things.

But as a person... he wasn't 'truly' good at anything.

He wasn't like Tezuka, who could cast anything aside for the sake of one fiery passion that burned deep within him.

Fuji could cast everything aside if he wanted to... and be left with nothing.

'Peerless.' There had never been a question that Fuji was a genius. And so he never had to strive.

The only thing he has ever been passionate about is—

.

"The only thing you have ever been passionate about is me." Tezuka stated.

It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't a wish.

It was a fact.

Fuji knew well enough that it was the truth, even if he couldn't help it that hearing Tezuka say it out loud made him blush a bit.

.

Fuji nodded. "ah... I've been selfish. I'm sorry."

"...?" The look on Tezuka's face was questioning.

Surely, Fuji believed Tezuka must have seen him as a spoiled brat. He might have even grown to hate him.

.

For a moment, Tezuka thought it over. The comment of Fuji being 'selfish'.

"...No. I have never considered you to be that."

It wasn't like Fuji wanted to believe Tezuka thought of him like that either. But then what other reason was there? Fuji had thought about it over and over and over again.

And this was the only thing that could explain it to him.

Why would Tezuka...

Leave like that?

.

Fuji had fully decided to let go of him, to be happy for him. Here lies Tezuka's future.

This is something his friend really wanted to do. It had taken him a lot of courage to decide for himself to take that step.

Surely, Tezuka's dream and ambition far exceeded the will of Fuji to feel safe and comfortable, having someone to follow around all the time.

Playing against him one last time was Fuji's final goodbye...

...But Tezuka didn't let him!

.

If Tezuka was trying to deny disliking Fuji's dependency on him out of common courtesy, that was all the more aggravating.

Fuji'd prefer if he'd just tell him in his face. That Fuji was an unpleasant person who has always caused Tezuka worry and trouble.

Tezuka had always held himself back. For the team. For Fuji.

Little people realized, but Fuji knows! Tezuka is an extremely selfless person. To a fault.

And even if it were perhaps unintentionally, Fuji knew he had taken advantage of that kindness.

.

But Tezuka was free now. No one was there to hold him down.

He had no reason what so ever to pretend it hadn't upset him.

He never would have thought Tezuka would lie to him like this...

'It's fine... Tezuka... it's fine, already...

You're free to hurt me now.'

.

As Fuji grit his teeth, Tezuka noticed. And the look on his face... made Fuji want to hurl.

True remorse. Tezuka knew he had pained Fuji.

And realized well enough that he was at fault over it.

Again... again that side where he feels he has to take responsibility for everything.

That burden Fuji gives him.

Is there no escape to it?

.

Tezuka never spoke out about these kinds of things. His thoughts on Fuji's behavior towards him.
They had always trusted each other. They never needed words for the other to feel their intentions.
This was something Tezuka had taken for granted with Fuji as well.

Tezuka knew he was easily misunderstood...
Rarely ever by Fuji.. but...
As much as other people wanted to believe otherwise:

He isn't perfect.

Fuji isn't perfect.

They aren't perfect.

Some things need to be said out loud.

.

"Fuji, I—"

There was a ruckus a few meter behind Fuji's back.

"There he is! Mr. Fuji, a few words please!" sounded in English.

The press had followed him. Like he had feared, they were interrupted before anything was even properly said.

.

It was Tezuka's turn to grit his teeth.

He grabbed a hold of Fuji's hand before he knew what was even going on and dragged him along, away from the press.

They didn't know where they were heading to. Just clutching on to each other's fingers.

Tezuka's hand was large and warm and a bit clamp.

He seemed to know the way. It was always like that.

It felt like a dream, holding on and following this man. Tezuka Kunimitsu.

There was no way out from this eternal pattern for Fuji.

As much as Fuji wanted to desperately deny, it felt so trusted and pleasant... but when will it end?

The fear of it having to end was always, ALWAYS there...

No.. it had already ended long ago.
Tezuka had already let go of this hand.

That's the way it had to be.

.

They had taken refuge in a narrow corridor. It was deserted and easily overlooked.

It had been a while ago since Fuji had been this close to Tezuka for the last time. They still had their hands linked.

Sighing, catching his breath, Tezuka continued where they had so rudely been interrupted.

"You have never wanted to be a rival to me. And I appreciate that.

You have always been a good friend to me."

.

Even though Tezuka didn't look at him, Fuji was looking for eye contact as he spoke these words.

He knows Tezuka has always been hated for his talent.

It was more than obvious, ever since his arm was wounded in their first year.

And even though Tezuka never thought badly of his rivals, Fuji knows more than anything how painful it is to be undefeated.

They were very alike in this aspect. And not a lot of people understand this form of pain.

'Don't mind. Everyone has bad days.', 'learn from your mistakes.', 'there's still a lot to learn.'
They are words that are foreign to them.

They will never hear them.

And speaking them is like talking in a language you don't know the meaning of. Like reading gibberish from a paper.

Not understanding such simple things cause misunderstanding.

Misunderstanding causes dismay.

Dismay causes hatred.

Tezuka has felt that hate thoroughly, and it distances him from others.

Fuji has always feared this hatred. Because he loved a lot of people.

They're both pleasers. Not wanting to hurt others because of the person they are.

Like that, it was only natural that they drew closer to each other. Though they never spoke of it, they were the only escape for the other of this pressure. The pressure called 'perfection'.

But the way how they deled with it was different.

Tezuka moved higher, as high as he could, to find the limit of this perfection.
As if he were out to find SOMEONE who could defeat him...

Whereas Fuji... tried to stay as low as he can. Trying to dumb himself down, so to say.

Because the higher he would aim, the more of an alien existence he would become to the people around him.

With the only exception being... Tezuka.

It's because of this that they are friends. Not rivals.

.

"and it's exactly because of that why I want you to be my rival...does that make sense?"

"It doesn't..." Fuji replied.

Though he didn't fully disagree. Having Tezuka on the other side of the court were the most fun times Fuji has ever had.

Even if there were stronger opponents out there, it was never the same. Playing against Tezuka was the only thing that could get his blood boiling.

It wouldn't matter who would win or lose. But there was also nothing as bitter as losing to the other.
It was a sweet and sour contradiction. And all they really knew is that it felt right.

They didn't need to think about it. And even if they did, there wasn't an answer.
It was a pure and sincere moment of appreciating tennis.

No matter who stood on the other side of the net, Fuji would only see Tezuka...

...Was it the same for him?

No, how silly. Tezuka has always been his own rival.

Fuji couldn't think of himself as an entity that could drive Tezuka forward.

.

"Fuji... you have the potential to do it."

"...?" Fuji felt a dryness struck his throat. Even in so little words, he understood what Tezuka meant. It contradicted his thoughts of only a moment ago.

To indeed be that rivaling entity.

And the only way to do that was...

'Become a professional tennis player.'

Is that what Tezuka set out for him that day?

.

" 'I am the only thing you are serious about'.

Then, how far will that seriousness drive you?

Do you have it in you to follow me, Fuji?

That is what I want to find out.

That has nothing to do with you being 'selfish'."

Rather, Tezuka seemed aware he was the one being selfish. But there was no regret to him about this matter.

'If it's not Fuji, it will not do.'

Is this the amount of potential Tezuka sees in him?

Is this how Tezuka treasures their bond?

.

"Then when you stopped that match..."

Tezuka heaved a breath and glanced off. "Do I seem like a person who would look down on an opponent like that?"

No. no, he didn't...

"That time, I stopped—"

"-as a promise... to.. continue one day?" It sunk in to Fuji.

These ties that Fuji had wanted to cut so badly on that day. To hate tennis, forget about Tezuka and stop completely.
To remain that child that wouldn't have to sacrifice anything, wouldn't risk losing anything for the sake of something bigger.

Tezuka refused to let those ties go. Someday, he wanted to stand on the court and finish the match of that day.

'Until that day, become stronger.
Become your own guidepost.'

Surely, from the start... that guidepost could only lead him to Tezuka.

.

"..."

Fuji couldn't help but chuckle. The dry and hoarse feeling never left his throat.

But for a different reason entirely.

His heart was beating fast. Tezuka is truly amazing.

Understanding this and being regarded so highly by this marvelous person was true bliss.
there was absolutely nothing like it.

Tezuka is indeed the only thing Fuji can be serious about. And that will probably never stop.

.

"It looks like it's my loss. You always seem to get your way."

Tezuka nodded. Seeing as Fuji received his feelings, he appeared to relax aswell.

They both fell silent for a moment.
their short but intense conversation was coming to a stop.
But there was one last thing Fuji wanted to know of him.

.

"So tell me... since when has this all been your idea?
Me being so obsessed with you that I'd chase you down to the end of the planet's surface, even investing a career and everything to it?

I know you like the hardworking type. But is that all?"

Tezuka considered the answer, filtering Fuji's cheekiness out.
Was it so far back? So complicated? Or had it all been a whim to him?

"I know you are not satisfied with the lack of motivation you have. It became evident as the troubles between you and your brother started."

"Yuuta?"

"hmn. There are matters holding you back. Things you don't want to lose.
But by holding yourself back, it will make you lose things aswell.

Surely, if you found the answer to that, you could grow..."

"You thought you could be the answer to that? How very kind of you." Fuji mocked him.

Tezuka looked off. A bit of arrogance from his side, but it was endearing.
His intentions hadn't been fully for Fuji alone. Surely, he hoped to find that someone, who could rival him without the bitterness of hatred, in Fuji.

But Fuji could forgive him that slight selfishness.

.

"that aside... I wonder if you recall.

I told you before that I can think of 10 things at the same time."

"ahh... you named 10 things."

"I had already been considering the possibilities.
At that time, I thought you would do well to learn German, Fuji.
If we were to strive for the same goal, you will need it...
That is why that was on my mind."

Fuji frowned, processing what he meant. 'German'?
If Tezuka wants him to go pro, it would be useful, yes.

But how is that related to Tezuka thinking of 10 things at the same time?

'Ich Liebe Dich.' Is what Tezuka had-
said...back...then...

"...!?" Fuji gaped at him as he realized.

Ow... Ow. that makes sense, yes...

.

With a slight smirk, Tezuka left the matter in the middle. As a future topic, so to say.

He turned and started to walk off.

No goodbyes, as usual. He never planned for it to ever be a goodbye, afterall.

"Te-..." Fuji regained some grip on himself after being flabbergasted.

"Tezuka!" He called out another time.

It sounded too loud for his own habit. much similar to how people had shouted that name in deep malice before.

But Fuji could never feel such dismay.
Fuji felt himself filled to the brim with love and adoration for this single person.

Still tense. But different than earlier.

This was, after all, the person he knew he could trust and follow above anyone else.

Meine Liebe.

"Thank you! For everything! Always!"

Fuji turned off as well, with renewed spirit, walking in the opposite direction.

Their distance grew.

But, from then and forever,
their hearts are walking the same route.