Further warnings: focused entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

Please enjoy!

4. Rondo

If anything, the sky had gotten even darker when school ended for the day. The rain hadn’t let up, having become developed a steady rhythm, only disrupted by sudden bouts of wind.

“It will be snowing soon.” Tezuka heard a classmate remark, as he left his classroom. Casting a weary glance at the overcast heavens, he hoped it wouldn’t happen that early in the year. Right now he could still hope for phases without rainfall for tennis practice, but the moments the school grounds became white, practice was out of question.

“Ah, Tezuka, thank you for waiting.” Fuji said, effortlessly wandering through the throngs of milling students. He looked somewhat better than when Tezuka had last seen him, but not completely healthy yet.

“Let’s go.” the captain only replied, wanting to get the affair over with. Although – even if he would never admit it aloud – he was slightly curious.

In silence they buttoned up their thick winter coats, neither looking forward to walking through the cold rain. Tezuka fished out his gloves, reached for his umbrella and turned, only to find his friend adjust a cute black hat that perfectly matched the knee-long coat.

And made him look even more like a girl.

For a split second Tezuka was tempted to grin at his team mate’s predicament. Teasing the tensai about his girlish looks was something Eiji liked to do, usually much to everybody’s amusement. Not to Fuji’s, though.

Tezuka had never been somebody to poke fun at other people, thus he only wordlessly opened his umbrella and stepped outside, followed by Fuji. They didn’t talk the entire way to the train station, and it wasn’t until they had changed lines to the one that would bring them to their final destination, that a topic for conversation arose.

Fuji had taken off his gloves, testament to the overheated trains and unconsciously started massaging his left wrist. Tezuka noted a white bandage wrapped tightly around and leaned over to question.

“What’s that?”

“Ah, nothing serious. Only a slight abrasion.” Fuji replied, smiling, “From yesterday.”

Tezuka’s eyebrow’s shot up. He hadn’t even noted the bandage at practice. “From the ghost?” he questioned, unable to keep the incredulous note from his voice.

“Yes.” Fuji replied and Tezuka recalled the flashlight’s beam hitting a motionless hand pressed to the ground by something dark and undefined.

“Didn’t the… circle … hold?” Seigaku’s captain continued, trying to fill the gaps in his logical understanding of the paranormal events.

“It was far too weak. Shattered at first contact.” was the cryptic answer, which didn’t tell Tezuka anything new.

“Is it actually safe to return to the house now?”

“Should be. It’s daytime for one, and we’re not trying to attract the ghost’s attention. Most spirits don’t show themselves unless you provoke them. Anyhow, do you know, by chance, who the ghost was before he turned into one?”

“No. Rumours only tell of a certain blood-thirsty spirit haunting the building and killing any inhabitants.”

“You’re uncle…” Fuji gasped in sudden consternation but Tezuka waved a hand.

“Died from a heart attack. Which is perhaps surprising but not exactly unnatural for fourty-seven year old man with health issues.”

“Aa. And the previous inhabitants?”

Tezuka only shrugged, gaze drawn to the outside. Few passengers remained on the train, and they had long since left the urban area behind. The foggy landscape outside consisted of barren fields, leafless trees bending in the wind and a lonely, small house every now and then.

They were the only ones to leave the train at that station. Like the mansion, the train station had seen better times. Only the nameplate looked recently painted, the rest had seen poor maintaining

Trudging through uneven, silent streets, they met no other people. Not even a car passed by, even though Tezuka heard two driving in the distance. It was funny, in a way. They weren’t that far from Tokyo, but it felt as if they had arrived within an entirely other world. One that looked strangely unreal with its dead trees and white fog swallowing the surroundings.

Only when Tezuka reached the gate, searching his coat pockets for the keys with his umbrella pinned between shoulder and head, he turned to speak to Fuji again.

“What do you want to retrieve?”

Fuji blinked in surprise as the silence was that suddenly disrupted. Voices sounded foreign in this place, but he knew better than to linger at that idea.

“The things nee-san and I set up last night. You know, the paper and the black box – I just want to get a look at them and see whether we actually got some results.”

“Results?” Tezuka repeated, pushing the door open.

Fuji followed him up the stairs towards the front entrance. “There was a piece of film in the black box, so there is a chance we got a picture of our spirit. As for the rest, we’ll have to see.”

Feeling slightly curious himself, Tezuka managed to shake of the residing feelings of dread as he unlocked the wooden door.

The entry room was as cold and dark as it had been last night. Yet it looked as if a hurricane had hurled through, paper was strewn everywhere, candles and overturned glasses. The painting had fallen off the wall and the door further down leading into the hall was wide-open. Tezuka shuddered at the waiting blackness visible there, but gathered his nerves and turned to close the door behind Fuji.

“Don’t close it, Tezuka.” Fuji instructed softly, stepping further into the room. He eyed the paper with such an unveiled astonishment, that Tezuka automatically followed that riveted gaze.

What before had been empty white paper, had become partially filled with angry, brownish smears. The splotches looked accidental – yet at times, they resembled characters and numbers.

Tezuka made out a ‘65’ on a sheet near the centre of the room. There was something that looked like the character for ‘death’ near it. And off to the side where the two armchairs stood, there was a pattern that could resemble ‘love’.

“Is that actual writing?” he asked Fuji, who was making his way towards the black box.

“It might be. What does it say?”

“No, I only thought some of those splotches looked like characters.”

“They might be. Say, do you remember which candle blew out first?”

“They more or less all went out at the same time, didn’t they?”

“Maa, that’s troublesome.” Fuji picked up the black box and carefully stashed it into his book bag, then turned to look at Tezuka again, “What’s upstairs?”

“Bedrooms and some empty chambers. It’s all pretty old.”

“Yes, it looks rather antique. Do you know when the house was built?”

“From what I’ve been told it must have been in the middle of the 16th century. Somehow, the idea of building houses from stone had been imported from the west, thus this building came into being.”

“It’s quite unique.” Fuji replied gently, but his eyes kept straying to the staircase.

“If you’d like to, we can take a look upstairs. They kept some original furniture, I’ve heard.” Tezuka offered.

“From fifteen-hundred-something?”

“Supposedly.”

“My, that must be worth a …” half-way up the staircase and Fuji’s words were swallowed by a sudden, violent coughing fit. One hand clutching the banister, he doubled over, desperate for air but incapable of drawing a breath. It felt as if somebody was squeezing his lungs; his throat was sore and burning and Tezuka registered with growing worry, that the formerly dry coughs had gained a thick, wet note.

They shouldn’t have come here, he realized. Not when Fuji was sick and the temperatures inside this house were just as freezing as the rain outside.

“Fuji…” he began, eyes fixed at his friend’s back. ‘Let’s head home.’ he wanted to say, ‘Let’s just forget about this and go back.’

But no sound fell from his lips and Fuji turned to him, white-faced and smiling weakly.

“I’m okay, Tezuka. Don’t worry.”

A flash of dazed blue, then their trek upstairs abruptly resumed at a much faster pace. It made Tezuka wonder, to see Fuji’s hands tremble like that, yet he showed no signs of slowing down.

But something wasn’t right…

Sheer accident made Tezuka gaze downward, looking at the mess of strewn paper and overturned glasses. There were more characters decipherable now, more strange words begging for interpretation.

Death. Another. Last. Wish. Unity. Mortality. Loss. Love. Undo. Rewrite. Lost. Eternity. Mistake. Container. Rebirth. Chance. Awaken. Time. More.

Shuddering, he tore his gaze away. Whatever those words meant, it made his blood run cold. He didn’t want to know, actually – his stomach clenched at the thought of unveiling this cryptic message. Heart urging him to turn his back to never return again…

He chased those thoughts away with a small shake of the head. Fuji, he discovered to his surprise, had already reached the top of the stairs and disappeared through the doorway.

Tezuka followed with a frown on his face. Fuji didn’t usually rush ahead, especially not in unfamiliar buildings. The smaller regular preferred to follow, to study his surroundings – yet those light steps heralded a blind charge into an unknown direction.

Slightly out of breath, Tezuka turned into the corridor, catching sight of Fuji disappearing into a room on the right – one of the unused chambers, his mind recalled, barely holding any furniture. Something was definitely funny here. Making up his mind to demand answers now, Tezuka managed to utter half of Fuji’s name, when an ice-cold bout of wind rushed through the long, dark corridor, rattling the old wooden wall panels.

Instinctively Tezuka lifted his arms to shield his face, a small part wondering where this wind originated from, but mainly he only wanted to know what was going on here.

A sudden thud startled him, making his heart clench and he abruptly lifted his head. The massive wooden door to the room Fuji had just disappeared into slammed shut; the wind bit into his cheeks, trying to force Tezuka to avert his gaze, to step back, to leave…

Hell, enough was enough.

Tezuka forcefully stepped forward, keeping one arm in front of his face. The howling wind picked up dramatically, but was unable to deter him anymore. Throwing his body weight forward, praying to whatever deity listening no sudden bout of wind strong enough to pick him off his feet would come, he charged forward.

“Fuji!” he yelled, “Fuji! Wha…”

He stumbled, needing a minute to right himself as the wind suddenly died down. Suspiciously glancing down the corridor, but unable to discover anything abnormal, he carefully proceeded forward.

“No! Don’t!” he almost missed the faint voice emerging from the room on his right, yet he recognized it on spot. Blood freezing abruptly, he desperately reached for the door, trying to forcefully wrench it open.

Only to find it stuck. Pulling like mad was in vain, pounding and pushing likewise remained without effect – adding to Tezuka’s worries. Unable to calm his frantically beating hard, to cast off the horrifying pictures haunting his mind, he hit the door until his knuckles bled.

“Fuji! What is going on there?! Fuji! Open the door!”

“Not yet.” a gentle, seductive, female voice crooned softly, making Seigaku’s captain falter. Bloodied fists stopped mere centimetres from the doors smooth wooden surface. Where the hell did this woman come from?

“Soon.” she crooned, her voice vibrating oddly, “Soon we will be…”

Silence – as if somebody else was speaking. But no matter how closely Tezuka listened, he couldn’t catch a second voice – neither any clue of Fuji.

“Yes.” breathily uttered “One more. Only one more and then we shall fulfil our vows.”

A cold shudder ran down his spine. Overcome by a sudden sense of urgency he reached for the doorknob, and this time it gave away.

Wrenching the door open violently, Tezuka stumbled into a room basked in twilight. The pit-patter of rain falling outside returned, the wetness palpable within these walls. He blinked, trying to regain his sight –

- to see Fuji kneeling on the floor, only an arm’s length away, head bowed and body strangely limp. But he moved – gracious, yes, elegant, yes – looking like a puppet masterfully played.

And when dull blue eyes turned upwards to fix a point behind Tezuka’s left shoulder he knew instinctively and without a doubt, his team mate had been possessed.

“Soon.” he said in a voice not his own, smiling a stranger’s soft smile, “Beloved. Soon.”

Voice trailing off, those blue orbs closed and like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Fuji collapsed. Seeing the small, motionless form, skin deathly white against dark floorboards, made Tezuka’s heart speed up.

Eyes widening, he made to step forward.

“Fuji!”

Only to be repelled by an invisible fist slamming into his stomach. Pain flooded his senses. He stumbled, determination making him cling onto consciousness, even though white stars exploded in front of his eyes. His back hit the wall, yet the room’s fogginess didn’t abate.

The light was blurring, swimming, streams of grey fog crossing his vision. Fuji’s lifeless figure faded in and out of view. Biting his lip, Tezuka gathered his nerves, setting a foot forward, only to be pushed back with vehemence.

Air rushed out of his lungs on impact, dizziness set in immediately. He couldn’t move, his knees were shaking, threatening to give out. Pressing his eyes close, concentrating on the sensation of cooling sweat on his forehead, the rain outside, the barren wall behind his back, he gathered his nerves.

And opened his eyes to find himself face to face with the darkest eyes he’d ever seen. Where there had been empty air a split second before was no a male human being, drenched in shades of darkness. The white skin of the dead had gained a grey tinge, in a cruel mockery what might have once been a healthy tan. Black hair arranged artfully in a style that had gone out of fashion centuries ago. Tezuka remained mesmerized by the dark, maniacal gaze.

“Don’t worry about your friend.” the otherworldly being hissed and it sounded as if a hundred voices were hissing all at once, “Worry about yourself.”

Grey, shapeless hands rose – nothing more than slices of grey fog attached to the figure’s main body – reaching for Tezuka’s throat. And darkness closed in.

On to Chapter 5~