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almondinflowerA Travelogue of Young Adulthood, part 1/?
Genre: gen, futurefic
wordcount: about 1000
summary: Yukimura visits Fuji in Provence, and convinces him to backpack around Europe together.
notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iphridian. Erm. can't guarantee that I will finish this fic, but I promise I will at least write until Tezuka gets into the story somehow!
April 3rd. Somewhere outside Aix-en-Provence.
He arrived, not with a doorknock or ringing of the bell, but by a flutter of bird's wings.
Syuusuke, who since the weather took a shift for the warmer had been in the habit of leaving all windows open, looked up upon hearing the sudden feathery noise – just in time to see the last of the sparrows gyre upwards. The apple tree branches were still trembling from the momentum of their departure. He approached the window, pushed aside the lace sheer curtain. The unobstructed view revealed a figure in jeans and white shirt, facing away from the cottage, slim head tilted back to observe specks of bird dissipating into the sky.
Syuusuke allowed the curtain to fall back into place. When he opened the front door, Yukimura was already standing at the end of the garden path, smiling.
“Fuji. It's so good to see you.”
Syuusuke absorbed fleetingly the visual effects of the scene – a backdrop of green-bright foliage, dotted with orange blossoms; sparsely budding rose bushes, outlined against the low white fence that encircled the cottage garden, and the tall figure standing just off-centre, angle too confrontational for a good photograph. The image passed instantly into his mind; there was no lag between Yukimura's final syllable and Syuusuke walking forward, one hand proffered. “Yukimura-kun. What a pleasant surprise.”
Yukimura's handshake was steady as ever, the kind you wanted to depend upon. “Sorry for the lack of warning. I wanted to call, but I didn't have your number, and your e-mail address wasn't working.”
“I changed it.” He didn't ask how Yukimura had discovered his physical address. “Would you like to come in?”
They had tea using the set Syuusuke had bought from an antique shop in Nice, bone china cups underglazed with willow leaf and blue dragons. Yukimura refused the sugar biscuits, the gaufres du Nord, and seemed content to breathe in the flavour of black Darjeeling. Syuusuke had a vague memory, from university years, of seeing him knock back consecutive cups of double-shot espresso before morning lectures.
“How is your sister? I thought she was living here as well.”
He explained that Neesan was in Brussels attending a conference on palmistry, then asked Yukimura what he had been doing since graduation.
“I worked for a year."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Most of the time. But it made me appreciate student life a whole lot. So much so that I'm going back for my Masters in September.”
“Where at?”
“Los Angeles. University of California.”
“Ah.” He felt it then, a mild unjustified cocktail of envy and resentment at the apparent abundance of movement in Yukimura's life. “They have nice redwoods.”
“And cacti. And Echizen.” Yukimura's eyes were laughing. “You should come to visit.”
“I'd love to, Yukimura-kun, but I can't afford it.” It was in fact Neesan and her thirty-five-year-old, half-Egyptian half-Italian, stock broker fiancé who paid the rent on this cottage, and the latter, after a long winter, was showing definite indications of desiring Syuusuke's departure. While Syuusuke was no stranger to the art of being unobtrusive - he'd accumulated a great deal of experience playing third wheel in high school, thanks to Eiji's biweekly succession of girlfriends and addiction to double dating (after about a year Eiji had discontinued the practice because the girlfriends kept developing crushes on Syuusuke) – it was undeniable, nevertheless, that five months of hospitality lay beyond the ken of patience and familial obligation. Back in November Neesan had been homesick and overwhelmingly happy to see Syuusuke. He would not have left, then, even to please an unhappy boyfriend. Now she was busy with work, smiling at the advent of spring, preparing for marriage. While a younger brother would never be unwanted, he was certainly unneeded.
Yukimura gave him an assessing look, and perhaps read something of the situation in Syuusuke's face. Perhaps he knew already, whether through Yuuta or Inui or Yanagi Renji. It was Yukimura Seiichi, anything was possible.
“Well, would you like to travel with me, then? I plan to cover Western Europe this spring and summer – on a shoestring, as they say. I could use the company, and a tour guide. Your French must be light-years beyond mine by now.”
He murmured a denial, and then belatedly remembered, at the sudden flash in grey eyes, that the Rikkai tennis players had never been known to like false modesty. “But I do get by quite passably. The vocabulary of everyday conversation. Where do you plan to go?”
“As much of southern France as you can bear, although you must have seen most of it already. Then Spain, and then the British Isles. Atobe's family has two houses in England; he says we're welcome to use them. I'd like to reach Berlin by early May, before Roland Garros begins, but we'll see.”
“I've never been to Germany.”
“Haven't you? That's surprising. Atobe goes there every year, usually around Christmas. He loves the place. Have you been to England, then?”
He had, but not since before starting university. Yukimura drank his Darjeeling, finally. “Hmm. I hadn't realised that.” From the way he said it, it could have been sincere, or it could have been a baldfaced lie. “You and Tezuka were close friends, right? I thought the first thing you'd have done would be to catch up with him.”
Because I was afraid, Syuusuke thought. Because we were so close. Because, in truth, he had not wanted to see anyone.
He did not really want to see anyone, even now. But Yukimura was sitting in front of him, dazzlingly whole, and the social contact was surprisingly bearable. It was – pleasant, even.
“I would very much like to come with you. Thanks for the invitation.”
Yukimura smiled. Syuusuke met his gaze face-on and was struck with the recollection of dark eyes in an angular face, watching from behind rimless, elliptical lenses, carrying a purity Syuusuke would never reach, hiding secrets Syuusuke had been powerless to touch.
Powerless then, and now. So unlike the young man in front of him. Another memory, just as clear, of Yanagi Renji saying that Yukimura had always been able to get what he wanted, except for the one thing he wanted the most in the world.
“You know, Yukimura-kun, you're very good at persuading people.”
“I've had a lot of practice.” He pulled out a map from the pocket of his straight-leg jeans and began to open it out, an A2-sized glossy sheet that had been refolded along all the wrong creases. “Do you want to start planning now? I've been looking forward to this for so long.”
It was Syuusuke's turn to smile. “What are you looking forward to the most?”
“To everything.” There was a fountain pen lying on the low table. Yukimura uncapped it and drew an exuberant black line all around Europe, running from Aix-en-Provence to Andalucia to Dublin to Frankfurt. “Absolutely everything.”
On to Part 2.
Post-notes:
Loosely in the same continuity as on Akaya: three propositions. Yes, this does give some indication of possible plot directions. Not that I have a whole LOT of those, atm.
Genre: gen, futurefic
wordcount: about 1000
summary: Yukimura visits Fuji in Provence, and convinces him to backpack around Europe together.
notes: For
iphridian. Erm. can't guarantee that I will finish this fic, but I promise I will at least write until Tezuka gets into the story somehow!April 3rd. Somewhere outside Aix-en-Provence.
He arrived, not with a doorknock or ringing of the bell, but by a flutter of bird's wings.
Syuusuke, who since the weather took a shift for the warmer had been in the habit of leaving all windows open, looked up upon hearing the sudden feathery noise – just in time to see the last of the sparrows gyre upwards. The apple tree branches were still trembling from the momentum of their departure. He approached the window, pushed aside the lace sheer curtain. The unobstructed view revealed a figure in jeans and white shirt, facing away from the cottage, slim head tilted back to observe specks of bird dissipating into the sky.
Syuusuke allowed the curtain to fall back into place. When he opened the front door, Yukimura was already standing at the end of the garden path, smiling.
“Fuji. It's so good to see you.”
Syuusuke absorbed fleetingly the visual effects of the scene – a backdrop of green-bright foliage, dotted with orange blossoms; sparsely budding rose bushes, outlined against the low white fence that encircled the cottage garden, and the tall figure standing just off-centre, angle too confrontational for a good photograph. The image passed instantly into his mind; there was no lag between Yukimura's final syllable and Syuusuke walking forward, one hand proffered. “Yukimura-kun. What a pleasant surprise.”
Yukimura's handshake was steady as ever, the kind you wanted to depend upon. “Sorry for the lack of warning. I wanted to call, but I didn't have your number, and your e-mail address wasn't working.”
“I changed it.” He didn't ask how Yukimura had discovered his physical address. “Would you like to come in?”
They had tea using the set Syuusuke had bought from an antique shop in Nice, bone china cups underglazed with willow leaf and blue dragons. Yukimura refused the sugar biscuits, the gaufres du Nord, and seemed content to breathe in the flavour of black Darjeeling. Syuusuke had a vague memory, from university years, of seeing him knock back consecutive cups of double-shot espresso before morning lectures.
“How is your sister? I thought she was living here as well.”
He explained that Neesan was in Brussels attending a conference on palmistry, then asked Yukimura what he had been doing since graduation.
“I worked for a year."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Most of the time. But it made me appreciate student life a whole lot. So much so that I'm going back for my Masters in September.”
“Where at?”
“Los Angeles. University of California.”
“Ah.” He felt it then, a mild unjustified cocktail of envy and resentment at the apparent abundance of movement in Yukimura's life. “They have nice redwoods.”
“And cacti. And Echizen.” Yukimura's eyes were laughing. “You should come to visit.”
“I'd love to, Yukimura-kun, but I can't afford it.” It was in fact Neesan and her thirty-five-year-old, half-Egyptian half-Italian, stock broker fiancé who paid the rent on this cottage, and the latter, after a long winter, was showing definite indications of desiring Syuusuke's departure. While Syuusuke was no stranger to the art of being unobtrusive - he'd accumulated a great deal of experience playing third wheel in high school, thanks to Eiji's biweekly succession of girlfriends and addiction to double dating (after about a year Eiji had discontinued the practice because the girlfriends kept developing crushes on Syuusuke) – it was undeniable, nevertheless, that five months of hospitality lay beyond the ken of patience and familial obligation. Back in November Neesan had been homesick and overwhelmingly happy to see Syuusuke. He would not have left, then, even to please an unhappy boyfriend. Now she was busy with work, smiling at the advent of spring, preparing for marriage. While a younger brother would never be unwanted, he was certainly unneeded.
Yukimura gave him an assessing look, and perhaps read something of the situation in Syuusuke's face. Perhaps he knew already, whether through Yuuta or Inui or Yanagi Renji. It was Yukimura Seiichi, anything was possible.
“Well, would you like to travel with me, then? I plan to cover Western Europe this spring and summer – on a shoestring, as they say. I could use the company, and a tour guide. Your French must be light-years beyond mine by now.”
He murmured a denial, and then belatedly remembered, at the sudden flash in grey eyes, that the Rikkai tennis players had never been known to like false modesty. “But I do get by quite passably. The vocabulary of everyday conversation. Where do you plan to go?”
“As much of southern France as you can bear, although you must have seen most of it already. Then Spain, and then the British Isles. Atobe's family has two houses in England; he says we're welcome to use them. I'd like to reach Berlin by early May, before Roland Garros begins, but we'll see.”
“I've never been to Germany.”
“Haven't you? That's surprising. Atobe goes there every year, usually around Christmas. He loves the place. Have you been to England, then?”
He had, but not since before starting university. Yukimura drank his Darjeeling, finally. “Hmm. I hadn't realised that.” From the way he said it, it could have been sincere, or it could have been a baldfaced lie. “You and Tezuka were close friends, right? I thought the first thing you'd have done would be to catch up with him.”
Because I was afraid, Syuusuke thought. Because we were so close. Because, in truth, he had not wanted to see anyone.
He did not really want to see anyone, even now. But Yukimura was sitting in front of him, dazzlingly whole, and the social contact was surprisingly bearable. It was – pleasant, even.
“I would very much like to come with you. Thanks for the invitation.”
Yukimura smiled. Syuusuke met his gaze face-on and was struck with the recollection of dark eyes in an angular face, watching from behind rimless, elliptical lenses, carrying a purity Syuusuke would never reach, hiding secrets Syuusuke had been powerless to touch.
Powerless then, and now. So unlike the young man in front of him. Another memory, just as clear, of Yanagi Renji saying that Yukimura had always been able to get what he wanted, except for the one thing he wanted the most in the world.
“You know, Yukimura-kun, you're very good at persuading people.”
“I've had a lot of practice.” He pulled out a map from the pocket of his straight-leg jeans and began to open it out, an A2-sized glossy sheet that had been refolded along all the wrong creases. “Do you want to start planning now? I've been looking forward to this for so long.”
It was Syuusuke's turn to smile. “What are you looking forward to the most?”
“To everything.” There was a fountain pen lying on the low table. Yukimura uncapped it and drew an exuberant black line all around Europe, running from Aix-en-Provence to Andalucia to Dublin to Frankfurt. “Absolutely everything.”
On to Part 2.
Post-notes:
Loosely in the same continuity as on Akaya: three propositions. Yes, this does give some indication of possible plot directions. Not that I have a whole LOT of those, atm.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-27 02:50 am (UTC)