Chapter Text
The rest? The rest is easy.
In hindsight, the case was easy too. Prodding information out of a man who hates to divulge anything more than he has to, tracking down kids who wanted to be found, losing a bit of himself and finding the answer along the way.
Fuji’s not too upset over how it turned out.
It was easy for Oishi to put the pieces together a few days later. By then, the rebound on Fuji had already almost faded completely, but he confirmed Fuji’s suspicions after a quick but thorough examination. Still, he reiterated how difficult peeling off years of suppressed emotional build-up in a magical scar could be, but left them exercises and some brews to ease the process. Tezuka took it with grateful thanks, and for the first time, Fuji thinks he sees Tezuka truly relaxed.
As relaxed as someone like Tezuka could be anyway.
A few days later, Fuji tries to leave.
Tezuka lets him.
Okay, maybe Fuji expected a phone call or something. They didn’t really discuss the fallout of it all in the aftermath. It was awkward, especially before Oishi came by. They didn’t discuss the first night in the cabin, nor did they fight again. In Fuji’s opinion, it was worse, not closing things off neatly and just letting it simmer. When he could summon wind magic again, that strain between them began to fade, but it wasn’t as easy as it was before. Tezuka, he was the same; he didn’t want to talk about it. And Fuji? He was quite the opposite, more conscious of his actions in those last few days than ever before. He didn’t want to tease Tezuka anymore, lest it led to discomfort, an insinuation that Fuji was asking for more despite his earlier rejection.
It was a rejection, right? He had laid it out there in the open, didn’t he? And Tezuka –
Tezuka had kissed him, saying he couldn’t give Fuji what he wanted.
It was an allusion to his emotional capacity, something he was working on now, so Fuji had a sliver of hope, more than a sliver. But he was also a pragmatist, stewing in the default state until proven otherwise.
And a pragmatist says Tezuka could have also meant how he couldn’t give Fuji what he wanted for a much simpler reason - because he didn’t reciprocate.
So why did he kiss him?
Fuji groans to himself, tossing in his own bed. Even after weeks of being back, it didn’t quite feel the same as living in Tezuka’s guest bedroom. He’s gotten a few more cases since then, but none that took more than a couple of days, none that thrilled him.
If it took losing his magic to fall in love with his job all over again, then maybe Fuji too had a problem that needed solving, by someone that was preferably not him.
He hears about Seigaku every once in a while, how Momo’s new invention has managed to hit the shelves after numerous modifications, how Kirihara managed to get himself suspended again, this time for something silly instead of dangerous, how Tezuka’s new students joke about wanting to go to their professor’s house and Kaidoh hissing at them in the background, warning them against doing anything stupid to that effect.
A few months after the incident, Fuji helps Sumire with another case, this time with a former pupil of hers with a post-puberty fire to put out.
Literally.
After his growth spurt, Kawamura’s magic had grown exponentially, to the point where he spontaneously bursts into flames. It never endangers or burns himself, much like other fire users, but he couldn’t put it out once it burned long enough. Instead, the only solution he’s found that always works is exhausting himself to sleep, the flames dying out with him.
Funnily enough, Fuji’s first thought was for Kawamura to get himself bonded to someone with a readily available water affinity so he could get a healthy douse whenever needed. Practicality aside though, after meeting Kawamura, the answer ends up just being an issue of control. Fuji guides him through the basics, and then sends him off to a specialist, mind buzzing alight with how well-suited Tezuka would be for the job, so in control of his desires and emotions that he downright lost them.
Not lost, chose to lock away, Fuji reminds himself.
Then he goes through a dry spell for a while, which happens, nothing wrong with that. Fuji takes the time to read up on his long backlog of books: novels, dramas, new magical catalogues. He sleeps in a bit more, learns to finally make those scones Tezuka made for him the first day they met, and he wonders, magic twitching under his skin, if he feels this way because he never got closure on what Tezuka had meant.
Because if the emotion thing was a problem, it didn’t have to be.
Fuji remembers reading Tezuka just as easily, reading between the lines of his face, the semi-tones of his voice. He remembers how close they were when their minds met, and how that was enough intimacy to last a lifetime. A smile is beautiful, and it carries weight, but Tezuka’s always showed he cares in other ways – in acts of service, in admissions of truth.
Fuji didn’t need it, if it came down to it. He can smile enough for both of them.
He gets woken up one morning at the break of dawn. He’s well aware that he made it hard for people to find him for many reasons, but a side effect of that Fuji realizes now, is that people tend to not seek him out the very first thing in the morning. He doesn’t have formal business hours, but he hadn’t ever had a potential client knock on his door this early before. Maybe he should crave out some new rules.
Regardless, Fuji drags himself out of bed, throws the nearest mage robe over himself, and combs his hair down. He pulls the door open, fully prepared to increase both his standards and prices for this early-bird client, at least in his head.
“It’s 6:30 in the morning. Can I help you in an hour or two perhaps?” Fuji asks with half-lidded eyes, in a voice that’s the perfect blend of sarcastic and sweet.
It comes out somewhat croaked, and he has to cough twice to himself to get his voice back on track.
“I made breakfast.” A familiar voice replies, and Fuji looks up, blinking fully awake to absorb the words, the sensation of it.
Tezuka’s looking at him, a box in hand, a small smile on his face, a bit crooked but still –
Wait.
“You’re here. Wait, you’re… why? You’re smiling.” Fuji can’t help but babble out, his brain fizzling to a current of white noise.
That strange smile drops immediately.
“Let me in first?”
It was a question that didn’t need an answer, and Fuji scurries to do exactly that.
“Why are you here, Tezuka?”
“For you.” Tezuka says plainly, his expression a little wistful, and god, Fuji’s missed that, wanted more of it, the peace that was always blocked by the case at hand.
The case!
“I wanted to talk to you and thank you more. I wanted to make myself clear, but I felt ashamed that I didn’t do that sooner after you left. So, I wanted to do it right. It took longer than I had hoped, but … it’s okay now.” Tezuka explains himself.
“You mean … it’s all back?” Fuji asks, eyes widening.
When they had parted, Oishi had warned it would be a long journey, but with each layer that falls, a bit of Tezuka’s magic would return to him. He had stayed only long enough to see a breeze circling Tezuka’s fingers, and that was enough hope for Fuji, and he trusted Oishi with the rest, to check in on his patient.
That was fulfilling too, to leave his clients in the hands of experts who could take care of them in ways Fuji couldn’t.
“Yeah. It is.” Tezuka replies, and his mouth curls up ever so slightly on the right side, a semblance of a half-smile attempt.
Fuji giggles, unable to help himself.
“I’m… trying,” Tezuka says carefully, eyes downcast, his smile falling with it, “the muscles there feel like they’ve atrophied. I was told it will get better.”
“You don’t have to smile if you don’t want to, Tezuka. But it’s nice to have the option, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he pauses, “thank you, for giving that back to me.”
“I promised, didn’t I? You seem much happier for it.” Fuji can’t help but smile from ear to ear, warmth fluttering in his ribcage.
“Yes. And now, I want to return the favour, if you’ll still … I realize it’s been a long time.” Tezuka murmurs, hesitant, almost shy.
It takes Fuji a while for the insinuation to settle in, as smart as he is, and he’s torn between blushing and laughing.
“Are you courting me, Tezuka Kunimitsu? That’s so … so…” Fuji stutters, and then finally settles on, “so you, actually.”
“I’ve never done this before,” Tezuka admits, shrugging, “but I didn’t want to presume. You’re very well liked, and I don’t pretend you would have waited, especially since we haven’t been in contact.”
Fuji wants to say he didn’t wait, not on purpose anyway, but instead, he blurts something else completely without thinking.
“So, make up for it. The time we lost,” he challenges. “and tell me what you can offer me now that you didn’t want to a year ago.”
Tezuka takes a step closer, right into Fuji’s personal bubble, and unlike everyone else who’s ever tried before him, Fuji lets Tezuka stay there and take his hand.
“Everything I am now, and everything I’m working on learning and finding out.”
His thumb brushes gently against the inside of Fuji’s wrist, and Fuji takes it as the promise of what’s to come.