The night before the semi-finals, Tezuka is woken at three forty AM by the phone. Still half asleep, he fumbles at the unfamiliar hotel nightstand and almost knocks the lamp over before he locates the buzzing handset and manages to flip it open.
"Yes?" is about all he can manage. There is a very limited number of people who could be calling at this hour.
"Buchou?"
Tezuka sits bolt upright, suddenly very definitely awake. Ryoma's voice is small and choked, and in the darkness Tezuka can picture his face all too easily. It has been years since buchou has been anything but a joke between them, a smile for intimate moments.
"Ryoma?" Tezuka knows he sounds worried; he picks his glasses off the nightstand right-handed and shoves them blindly onto his nose. They don't make much difference in the darkness, but Tezuka feels a little more prepared.
"It's�" Ryoma trails off, and Tezuka can hear him swallow. "Doctor Ishida says it's time."
"Ah." Tezuka doesn't need to ask for the rest; part of him has been fearing this for a while. He shoves back the covers and flips on the light, reaching for his clothing. "When?"
"Tomorrow." Ryoma turns a choke into a cough, and Tezuka feels a weight settle into his stomach. "Japan tomorrow, I mean, buchou."
"I understand." Tezuka fumbles one-handed with shirt buttons before giving up and yanking a tennis shirt over his head. He shoves his feet into his shoes without worrying about socks. "I should be able to catch a plane within a few hours."
"But � the Open?" Ryoma sounds as though it's all too much for him to think about. Tezuka closes his eyes, trying to stave off the ache behind them. Ten thousand miles have never seemed so far; all he wants to do is reach out and pull Ryoma into his arms.
"There will be other tournaments." Grand Slams aren't quite the same without Ryoma across the net, anyway. Tezuka pulls open the hotel wardrobe and begins scooping his clothing back into his bags. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Are you at home?"
"Yeah." Ryoma tries to laugh, but doesn't quite seem able to manage it. "Mom's coming over later."
"Aa." Tezuka pauses to consider. It is the middle of Saturday morning in Japan, and even if he gets a direct flight Ryoma will be alone tonight. "Call Oishi or Momoshiro if you need to. Or go back to your parents' for the night."
"Yes buchou," Ryoma mumbles. Tezuka squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of practicalities instead of impossibilities.
"I'll call from the airport." There is nothing else he can say; Ryoma needs more than awkward, forced words right now. "I'll be there."
"Thank you �" Ryoma hangs up abruptly, but not before Tezuka can hear the sob in his voice. He stands there listening to the dial tone for a long moment before he can make himself close the phone. Then he zips up his bags and heads down to reception.
The taxi ride to the airport takes an hour or so. Tezuka calls ahead for departures information, and ends up booking a flight via London. The woman on the other end of the phone sounds too cheerful, and he feels a headache coming on. Halfway to Charles De Gaulle, he takes a deep breath and calls his manager.
"This had better be good," Hara-san mumbles in slurred English when he finally answers. Tezuka sets his shoulders.
"This is Tezuka. I apologise for the inconvenience, but I am withdrawing from the Open. Please see to the arrangements."
"What?" Hara-san almost shrieks. Tezuka winces. "But it's the semi-final � where are you?"
"On my way to the airport." Tezuka closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm needed in Japan immediately � a family emergency."
"Damn." Hara-san exhales so harshly that the phone makes a buzzing sound against Tezuka's ear. "Okay, okay. I'll deal with it � get your gear from the locker suite, too. What do you want me to tell the press? They'll be all over this."
"Family reasons." It's enough, Tezuka thinks. It's all that anyone needs to know.
At the check-in desk, he hands over his credit card and passport and sends a text message to Ryoma: Arriving Narita 08.45. I'll meet you at home. Then he calls Oishi, and prevails on his good will and friendship to arrange a lift from the airport.
Tezuka spends both flights trying to sleep, and manages only brief periods of restless half-dream. He feels cramped in the economy seat, knees pressed against the seat in front, and tries not to think about the way Ryoma always laughs at his discomfort.
Instead he thinks about Karupin. Tezuka can remember their first official meeting, Ryoma conducting careful introductions as though the fate of their relationship had hung on the cat's reaction. His face when Karupin had curled up purring in Tezuka's lap had been amusing, half satisfaction and half jealousy.
Tezuka has a wealth of such memories, portraits of Ryoma's face softened with the warmth of true smiles and laughter. He could have loved Karupin for that alone, he thinks, throat tightening as he recalls the familiar sight of Ryoma curled fast asleep on the couch with an armful of white and brown fur. Over the years that they have been living together, Karupin has become far more than just Ryoma's cat. Even the constant shuffling back and forth between their apartment and the Echizen house hadn't affected his cheerful personality. Tezuka rests his hands on his knees, watching them clench slowly into fists and trying not to feel the phantom caress of a furry body winding about his ankles.
By the time the plane touches down at Narita, Tezuka is quietly exhausted and there is a rock of dread lodged in his stomach. He stops off in a concourse bathroom to splash his face with water, and when he looks into the mirror he sees a man far older than twenty-six.
Oishi is waiting at the information post, as promised. As Tezuka walks to meet him he can see his friend's face slide from faux cheer into outright worry.
"Tezuka, you look awful," Oishi blurts, hurrying towards him. "What's happened?"
"Oishi." Tezuka nods, taking a deep breath. "I need to get home as soon as possible."
"Of course � the car's this way." Oishi looks at him a moment longer, then heads off towards the doors, walking fast. "Is it Echizen?" he asks over his shoulder.
"No." Except it is, Tezuka thinks. He can't get the sound of Ryoma's choked, half-broken voice out of his head. "Karupin." It's all he needs to say, and he sees Oishi's shoulders stiffen.
"Oh no�"
"Aa." Tezuka pulls his phone out of his pocket as they exit the building, switching it back on and hitting speed dial. A polite recorded voice tells him that Ryoma's number is busy or out of service. Tezuka calls home, but by the fourth ring he knows that there will be no answer.
"Over here." Oishi ducks between two pillars and unlocks his car. Tezuka settles his bags into the back seat and climbs into the front, fumbling one-handed with the seatbelt as he dials the Echizens' number. There are half a dozen bright plastic cat charms hanging from the passenger door handle, and they rattle and clatter as Oishi starts the engine.
"Hello?" Rinko-san's voice in Tezuka's ear sounds worried and tired. He's used to hearing radio or television or raised voices in the background, but there is nothing.
"It's Tezuka."
"Ah!" There is relief in her voice, now. Tezuka closes his eyes, feeling entirely inadequate. "Ryoma � he's just left, he went to the clinic to wait�" Rinko-san trails off, and Tezuka sets his jaw, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
"I understand. I'll go straight there."
"Thank you." Rinko-san pauses, and Tezuka is about to hang up when she murmurs "He needs you, Tezuka-kun."
Tezuka clenches his fingers around the door handle, almost tightly enough to crush Kikumaru's ornaments. Oishi glances away from the road for a moment, but doesn't speak.
"I know," Tezuka manages at last, wondering how he's supposed to be strong through this. Ryoma needs him, but even sacrificing his arm to Seigaku's hopes of the Nationals hadn't ached like this.
"Aa. I'll see you later." Rinko-san's voice wobbles as she rings off, and Tezuka stares at the road ahead for a long moment before telling Oishi the address of the clinic.
When Tezuka opens the door, the receptionist looks up from her work and smiles sympathetically at him.
"Tezuka-san, good morning. Doctor Ishida is with a patient at the moment, but Echizen-san is in Room Three if you want to go through."
"Thank you." Tezuka inclines his head in a half-bow and ignores the stares of people and pets as he walks through the waiting area. Echizen Nanjiroh is sprawled over a chair in the corridor, ignoring the noise of animals and people. He nods silently in Tezuka's direction, face drawn and sober.
Tezuka opens the door slowly, heart in his throat as he tries to ready himself for this. Ryoma is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, his head bent as he murmurs to the blanket-and-fur bundle in his lap. As Tezuka watches, Karupin's tail twitches once, weakly.
Ryoma looks up as Tezuka closes the door, pain and helplessness written all over his face. "Buchou?"
"I'm here." Tezuka crosses the floor and kneels down beside him, reaching out carefully to stroke Karupin's fur. The cat mews a little, barely audible, but doesn't move. Tezuka can feel the shivers under skin and fur, and after a moment he lifts his hand again and touches Ryoma's face, gently. Ryoma leans into the caress, eyes squeezing tight shut for a moment before he bends his head again, murmuring nonsense words to Karupin.
The knock on the door comes far too soon. Tezuka pushes himself to his feet as Doctor Ishida comes in, followed by Ryoma's parents and cousin. Nanako's face is tear-stained, and she clings to Rinko-san's arm.
Doctor Ishida nods to Tezuka, and comes over to check on Karupin. "Are you ready, Echizen-kun?"
Ryoma makes a muffled sound of protest, but after a moment he nods jerkily and gets to his feet, handing over his bundle as though it might shatter. Tezuka reaches out without thought, taking hold of his hand as the vet settles Karupin onto the table. After a moment, Ryoma's fingers close around his, clutching tightly enough to bruise. He doesn't say a word, but Tezuka can feel him trembling.
Karupin shudders once as Doctor Ishida administers the injection, then lies still, breathing already beginning to slow. It hadn't taken much, Tezuka thinks, bowing his head. Ryoma reaches out with his free hand to stroke Karupin's fur, making a tiny noise in his throat that might be an attempt at "Goodbye."
Afterwards, Rinko-san drives them back to their apartment in silence. Ryoma sits with his head bowed, hunched in on himself, and Tezuka keeps his eyes on their joined hands, resting on the seat between them. He thanks Rinko-san quietly when they arrive; Ryoma just looks at the ground, and stumbles up the stairs like a broken puppet.
Oishi has left his bags in the genkan, and there are fresh flowers in a vase on the table. Tezuka ignores it all, kicking out of his shoes and striding across the room to unplug the phone and pull down the blinds. Then, finally, he reaches out to tug Ryoma into his arms.
Ryoma collapses against him with a bitten-off sound, hands coming up to fist in the back of Tezuka's shirt. Tezuka closes his eyes, holding on tightly. Ryoma is shaking like the world is ending, and Tezuka knows there's nothing he can do. Even being there isn't enough, not now.
Eventually, Ryoma's body stills in his arms, his face still buried in Tezuka's shoulder. Tezuka presses a kiss into his hair, then manoeuvres them carefully into the bedroom, stretching out on the bed with Ryoma cradled against him like a child. Neither of them speak a word, and Tezuka stares at the ceiling with blurry eyes as Ryoma's breath heats the skin of his neck.
The day goes on without them. Tezuka doesn't move at all, exhaustion thick in his mind beneath the need to hold onto Ryoma. He watches the thin bars of light from the window slide across the room, and hopes that Ryoma is sleeping. The light is fading into dusk when Ryoma's breathing hitches and he begins to shudder, silent tears soaking into Tezuka's shirt. Tezuka closes his eyes against the ache and holds on tighter.