Ryouma glanced up at his companion, and then back down at where his feet were going.

At first, it had been a matter of chance, really. Ryouma had missed his captain’s presence, which always made it easier to be calm. And, when Fuji-senpai had shown up to watch his brother’s match against Ryouma at the district preliminaries, Ryouma had been reminded and asked, in passing, how Tezuka-san was. Fuji-senpai had cocked his head and given Ryouma a long look.

And then he’d told Ryouma to go find out for himself, and given him quite specific directions on how to do so.

When he’d seen Tezuka-san, sitting at the edge of that overlook, Ryouma been startled at the wave of relief he felt. It had reminded him of his first year of junior high, and how he’d felt when his captain had returned to the team. Which was strange, considering that Tezuka-san wasn’t his captain anymore and certainly hadn’t returned. Quite the contrary.

Dissecting his own reaction had helped distract Ryouma from the reaction itself. Ryouma knew perfectly well that he had always depended on his captain, for a challenge, for an example, for a little peace in all the craziness. He had just thought he’d done a better job convincing himself that he had to stop, now they were on different tracks.

Apparently not.

Apparently, the craziness now consisted mostly of Tezuka-san’s absence. Ryouma had never been much for denial, so, having reached this conclusion, he had chosen to keep visiting unless and until Tezuka-san indicated he wasn’t welcome. He had been a little surprised that Tezuka-san hadn’t done so yet, not even after he seemed to realize why Ryouma was there. Ryouma had been even more surprised when Tezuka-san invited him along on a trip that fell on Visiting Day. Not that his surprise had kept him from accepting.

All of which had led him to here, hiking up the side of a mountain. A fairly gentle mountain, of course, this was no hanging-from-ledges affair. Though, Ryouma reflected, that could be fun, too, at some point. Still, he had to keep his mind on what he was doing if he didn’t want to take a spill. Which he had no intention of doing, especially in front of Tezuka-san. Ryouma took some pride in being able to pick up new skills quickly, and had every intention of becoming competent enough to justify being invited along next time, too. So he kept an eye on where Tezuka-san was placing his feet, and how he shifted his weight to keep his balance on the slope.

There was something rather soothing about the activity, actually. Unlike the vast majority of athletics Ryouma had undertaken, there was no real competition, here. He was pretty sure that a huge chunk of rock covered in trees had no interest in defeating him; it was just there. The challenge, here, was… himself.

Maybe that was why Tezuka-san liked it.

This did not, of course, stop him from glaring at Tezuka-san’s back, when he crossed a washed out bit of the trail with one long step. Just because Ryouma accepted the fact that he would always be fairly small and compact did not mean he appreciated it when tall people flaunted their extra centimeters. When Tezuka-san paused and looked back, though, as if to offer his shorter companion a hand over if it was needed, Ryouma merely cranked up the glare a few notches and sprang over on his own.

Taking comfort from Tezuka-san’s presence was one thing. Accepting help for something like this was completely different.

The lightening of Tezuka-san’s eyes said that he probably knew just what Ryouma was thinking. Ryouma raised his chin and smirked back. He was pleased when this won a curl at the corner of Tezuka-san’s mouth, before Tezuka-san turned back to the trail.

When they finally came out of the trees, it was almost a shock. Ryouma thought that, if he took another few strides, he might step into the sky. It must be absolutely incredible at night.

He didn’t realize that he had said that last out loud until Tezuka-san turned to look at him, brows slightly arched.

“Yes, it is,” he confirmed, quietly.

Ryouma turned back to the sweep of blue and air over them, and breathed out a soft sigh. He wondered if he could possibly manage to come up here at night, some time, and see it. He remembered seeing the night sky through thin air, a few times, away from city lights. Personally, he thought Japanese schools won, hands down, when it came to field trips, but he’d been on a few good ones back before they’d moved, too.

Ryouma tipped his head back to follow the path of the sunlight across the sky until he swayed and Tezuka-san touched his shoulder to steady him.

When Fuji-senpai turned up at the next Seigaku match, Ryouma didn’t think it was quite as coincidental as the last time. It didn’t soothe his suspicion at all when Fuji fell in beside him, as the team was leaving.

“Good game,” he complimented Ryouma.

“Thanks,” Ryouma told him, a little warily.

“Your play has come back on-center again, I was glad to see. You seemed a little distracted earlier in the year.”

Ryouma made a noncommittal noise, and took a sip of water; he knew what Fuji-senpai was talking about. He was also glad that irritating, prickly, talking-to-himself babble inside his head had faded. It wasn’t as thought he had ever been able to tell what was wrong.

Fuji-senpai smiled at him, affectionately. “Who would have thought your little crush on Tezuka would last this long, or affect you so much.”

Ryouma nearly inhaled a mouthful of water. “My what?” he choked.

Fuji-senpai chuckled at him. “Did you really think no one noticed?” he asked.

“I’m not… it isn’t… what…” Ryouma bit back further sputtering, and took a very deep breath. It didn’t help all that much. Fuji-senpai was watching him narrowly, and finally made a surprised sound, brows arched.

“You didn’t realize it? Well, there’s one over on me,” he said, cheerfully. “I thought you had.”

Ryouma pressed his lips together and stalked on, trying to ignore Fuji’s presence beside him. He did not have a crush on his captain. Ex-captain. On Tezuka-san. He respected Tezuka-san, of course; Tezuka-san was his best challenge, and the one who understood best how Ryouma felt about the game. Tezuka-san was the one who had always known where Ryouma was trying to get to, and he’d put his own game on the line, more than once, to help Ryouma get there. And of course Ryouma loved playing against him; it was an incredible thrill to go all out and never be sure who would win, and Tezuka-san’s game was beautiful just to watch, never mind actually stand in the middle of and reach out and touch. And, yes, so it made Ryouma feel better to be around Tezuka-san, anyone whose life was as crazy as his would be grateful for a little peace and quiet. And if he just happened, just circumstantially, to have noticed that late-day sun turned Tezuka-san’s eyes bronze, that didn’t… it didn’t…

Ah, hell.

All right, fine, but that still wasn’t a crush!

Ryouma glowered at the still smiling Fuji from the corner of his eye, and was suddenly struck by a horrible thought.

“Fuji-senpai,” he said, slowly, “you’re not…” he nearly choked on the word, “you’re not matchmaking are you?”

Fuji-senpai laughed. “Of course not!” He smiled benignly at Ryouma. “I’m just watching to see what happens.”

“Has anyone ever told you you have bad hobbies?” Ryouma grumbled.

“At times,” Fuji-senpai allowed, serenely.

Ryouma sighed. Yes, that was Fuji-senpai, all right. Not precisely comforting, but a whole lot better than the alternative. “Have you mentioned anything to Tezuka-san?” he asked, crossing his fingers.

“Certainly not,” Fuji assured him. “It’s none of my business.”

Ryouma snorted at the magnitude of this bare-faced lie, but was reassured. If he was sure of any one thing, now that Fuji-senpai had kicked him over the edge of enlightenment, it was that he wasn’t saying anything about this to Tezuka-san. Daydreams were probably no longer avoidable, but that didn’t call for him to make a voluntary idiot out of himself.

A week later, Tezuka-san asked if he really wanted to see what the end of that trail looked like at night.

TBC