First posted to my writing archive on March 26, 2007.
Title: Illusionary Scenes From An Italian Restaurant (or, Never Saying Adieu)
Characters: Tezuka, Fuji, Sanada, Atobe. Mentions of other Rikkai and Seigaku characters.
Rating: Gen
Wordcount: 960, because I didn't think it needed 40 more words.
Summary: An alternate (happy) ending for the Adieu arc, where everyone lives to a ripe old age.
A/N: atamagaitai wanted to know what life would be like if Tezuka recovered from the illness in the Adieu arc. This is dedicated to her. Apologies for the title--I had to use Billy Joel's song titles in a fic somewhere.
1.
When he surfaced from the anesthesia, it was to Sanada's sleeping form slumped in the chair beside the hospital bed, Fuji's too-bright eyes, Atobe's shout of jubilation, and many tight hugs that hurt but healed.
"You aren't getting rid of us that easily," Atobe had said, and Tezuka had managed his first weak smile in the hospital.
2.
Sanada, not Fuji, had been insistent on the visit to the shrine. He had chosen the kimono Tezuka would wear, an understated blue and green and gold that had seen Tezuka in better days.
In it, Tezuka felt uneasy. Before it, Tezuka had been--he dared think it--charismatic and quietly arresting. Now he drew attention too, but he suspected it was for the gaunt cheekbones that showed a little too prominently, or the walk that was not always steady nor assured. Sanada and Fuji pretended not to notice that Tezuka sat down so frequently, and Tezuka pretended he did not, either.
Recovery would take time, time that Tezuka now had again. It was enough to be here now.
3.
Fuji's argument with Sanada was quiet and strained, the equivalent of the Cold War within their domain. Sanada ignored Fuji's pointed words and barbs, and Fuji said progressively worse things in his mild tone as if he was not seeking to hurt Sanada with every syllable uttered.
Both of them mended their differences within minutes when Tezuka said "Please."
4.
They climbed the Matterhorn together that summer, Sanada never complaining, Fuji always smiling. Tezuka found the ascent much more difficult this time, but both of his companions were patient and tireless. The trip took three times the time it would have taken Tezuka alone before his illness, but from then on, the Matterhorn was linked in his mind with Sanada's unspoken pride and Fuji's beaming smile. The picture of the three of them together at the summit now hung in their apartment, framed. They had faced the camera in a row with Tezuka in the middle. Sanada's arm was wrapped around Tezuka's waist, and Fuji's hand rested on Tezuka's shoulder.
It had taken so long, and there had been times when they had rested and not advanced an inch because Tezuka could go no further that day. Yet that day on the summit, they proved beyond any doubt that Tezuka had emerged completely from the shadow of Death's embrace at last.
5.
They grew old together, quietly living life as they were, three close friends renting three apartments in a row. Seigaku, Hyoutei, and Rikkaidai eventually reconciled their differences, and sometimes Yukimura and Atobe would join them, as did Renji and Oishi and the rest of their teams, because men needed time to talk and renew friendships and drink. Their parties lasted well into the night, spilling out onto the corridor and back into another apartment, but as they grew older the antics were more restrained.
Tezuka had never thought before this that he would love the sight of middle-aged men talking and arguing quietly, laughing and clapping each other on the back, jovial teasing and reminiscing and sharing of pictures of children, pets, homes, cars, tennis rackets. But he did.
6.
When the time finally came for Tezuka, sixty years after he met Death that first time and bid a temporary farewell, Fuji and Sanada had preceded him. Fuji had departed four summers ago, Sanada last spring after the cherry blossoms had bloomed.
Oishi and Eiji now lived in Okinawa, though Tezuka had recently received a long letter in Oishi's still-careful handwriting. He'd mailed his reply yesterday, merely communicating life as usual. At their age, it was understood that any of them could leave at any time. They'd made their peace with that, six months after the first of Tezuka's junior high regulars had gone at last. It didn't stop Oishi from inviting Tezuka to live with them, or Tezuka from declining politely each time.
Atobe was still around, but his heirs ran the Atobe companies now. Just last week, Tezuka had listened to his old friend chuckle at his grandson's attempt to shut out the patriarch of the empire. Talk eventually moved to friends and those they had lost. With Fuji gone, Echizen raising feisty tennis-playing grandchildren in America, and the Golden Pair (truly golden now, Eiji had joked when they celebrated his sixty-fifth birthday) now in Okinawa, Tezuka kept mostly to himself nowadays. After Sanada's passing, he had lost touch with Rikkaidai. Hyoutei was mostly gone, though Shishido still occasionally called to give Atobe a piece of his mind.
"I'd ask to keep you, but I know you lack the wish to stay you once had," Atobe said.
Tezuka nodded. "Don't let that stop you," he said.
"Please. As if you mattered that much." Atobe forced a laugh. Close to his nineties, and yet as sprightly as he was at fifty. The grandson would feel Atobe Keigo's presence a long time yet. On the other hand, Tezuka had cheated death six decades before, but it was his turn soon, and they both knew it.
7.
Tezuka embraced the end. He had lived well, and he looked forward to the reunion. He'd spoken to Oishi over the phone just yesterday, and they'd said farewell. He'd wanted to leave in peace without mourners, and Oishi had understood.
On his deathbed, Tezuka smiled suddenly, and lifted his hand in a welcoming gesture. "Hello again. I've missed you both," he said quietly to thin air.
Then he laid his hand down beside him, and closed his eyes forever.
Comments/concrit/bashcrit please? ;;;