In retrospect, a very understandable series of events including late-night tuition sessions and extra training had prompted the encounter. However, when Mizuki stepped out of his dormitory building one Sunday afternoon, he was completely floored to be greeted by the last person he ever expected to see. "...Fuji-kun?" The aforementioned Fuji (elder), dressed casually in a purple shirt which was just a touch too large for him, looked up and smiled, a sunny and somehow threatening expression. Mizuki took an unconscious step backwards. "Ah, Mizuki-kun!" Fuji said. "Didn't Yuuta-kun go home for the weekend?" he asked. "Aa," the Seigaku player nodded. "I had a nice talk with him yesterday. I was just in the area, so I thought I'd drop by and see you." "Me?" Mizuki blinked, taking another step back. "Ah... do you want to play tennis?" Fuji's smile widened. "No... I was thinking we could go out for lunch. Like a date," he said cheerfully. A cold wind blew by, raising the hair on the back of Mizuki's neck and making him shiver. "I've already eaten," he lied quickly. "What about dessert?" Fuji asked. "I know just the place." Mizuki took a step back too far and tripped over a step, sprawling gracelessly over the porch. Fuji laughed, his voice low and pleasant and.. incredibly creepy, then held a hand out to him. "You should be more careful," Fuji said. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, now, would we? It's surprising how much damage accidents can cause." "A--Aa," he muttered, getting to his feet. The wind was positively vicious today; there were leaves in his hair, which was even more tousled than it usually was. "Well, it's decided, then. Let's go, Mizuki-kun." "...eh?" ---- The place Fuji led him to was not, in fact, a public dessert parlour. That did not reassure Mizuki in any way. Fuji walked up to the gates of a traditional Japanese house and rang the doorbell; a moment later, it slid open to reveal the captain of the Seigaku tennis club. Mizuki blinked. "Fuji," the captain nodded, before turning to Mizuki. "...Mizuki?" The look that he leveled on Fuji may have been just the slighest bit short of accusatory, but Fuji only smiled innocently. "Sorry to intrude, Tezuka," he said. "We won't take long." "Sorry to intrude," Mizuki echoed, deciding that protesting at this point was probably futile. He followed Fuji into the compound, taking the seat he was offered at an empty, elegant table. "Fuji-kun--" he started, turning around. The tennis player was nowhere in sight. Neither was his captain, although he could hear muffled voices from around the corner, a conversation that cut off abruptly. Moment after that, Fuji strolled back into view, slightly disheveled, but with smile still firmly in space. Even wider, in fact. He was balancing two dessert plates expertly in one hand, holding a pair of cups in the other. Mizuki watched dubiously as he was served a slice of pastry with a thin, flaky crust and pale green filling. Next to him, Fuji picked at his own serving with every evidence of enjoyment. "Ne, Mizuki-kun," Fuji said after a moment of silence. "Yes?" "You've been spending a lot of time with my little brother, haven't you?" "A-Aa," said Mizuki. "Tennis training and remedial, you know." "Is that all?" Fuji asked, still smiling. "What's that supposed to mean?" Mizuki asked primly, taking a bite of pastry and promptly choking. Fuji, watching with concern, handed him a glass which he accepted gratefully. The subsequent coughing fit he went into was not watched with concern. When he recovered enough to look up, the other tennis player had an innocent and amused expression on his face, and he was sipping from the cup he had offered Mizuki without blinking an eye. "Isn't it to your taste, Mizuki-kun?" Fuji asked, sounding almost wounded. Mizuki prodded at the pastry with apprehension, then swallowed another piece without chewing it, although he didn't touch the drink. Fuji smiled. "So, Mizuki-kun," Fuji said conversationally, with a sort of demented cheerfulness, "What's this about you dating my baby brother?" Mizuki choked. "Wh-what gives you that idea?" he asked. "Yuuta," said Fuji. "It was a very interesting conversation." "/Yuuta-kun/ told you? I--" "Aa," Fuji interrupted. "Yuuta didn't say anything. But I can tell." "...," went Mizuki. "I know my little brother very well, you see," Fuji said, taking a bite of pastry. The dessert fork, when he pulled it out of his mouth, had a dangerous glint to it, reflected in Fuji's open eyes. "So I can tell all sorts of things about him. Like when he's happy and when he's unhappy." He dropped the implement with a clatter that made Mizuki jump. "And when Yuuta is unhappy, that makes /me/ unhappy. When someone hurts Yuuta, that makes me /very/ unhappy." "Is.. is that so?" Mizuki said. Fuji picked up the fork again and sliced off a corner of his pastry in a way that caused Mizuki to squirm in his seat. "But of course," he said, happily. "I see," said Mizuki. He swallowed, an almost inaudible sound. "I'm so glad we understand each other," Fuji said. ---- Tezuka had been feeding the fish. A while after Fuji and the St. Rudolph player went into his dining room, he rose, dusted off his hands, and went to the kitchen, where he poured a glass of water. He returned just in time to see Fuji and Mizuki at his doorstep, the former's smile serene and satisfied, with just a hint of fangs; the latter looking frankly traumatised. Wordlessly, Tezuka held out the glass to Mizuki, who accepted it with a wary look. He sniffed at it, then gulped it down like it was the water of life. Tezuka noticed that he was taking pains to avoid looking at Fuji, and repressed the urge to sigh. Fuji's smile shifted not a whit. "I suppose I'll be seeing you soon, Mizuki-kun," he said sweetly. Mizuki blanched. "I do hope you'll remember our little conversation." "Ah. Yes. As. a matter of. course," Mizuki said. "Some other time, then. Sorry to have imposed." He fled. Tezuka's house was suddenly empty, a huge tension gone from the air. They were silent for a while, as Fuji eyed Tezuka speculatively from beneath lowered eyelids and Tezuka fought a headache. "Ne, Tezuka." "Yes?" "There's some more of that pastry in your kitchen." Tezuka's eyes widened just the slightest bit. Fuji's smile was positively wicked as he continued, "I'll be sure to clean it up later." "Aa," said Tezuka.