Current mood:	content
Current music:	Harvey Danger - Flagpole Sitta

PoT drabble
Prince of Tennis blurple. Tezuka/Fuji, Oishi/Eiji (with hints of Tezuka/Oishi because I want them there damn it.) 200 words on the dot. And for beckymarie because she deserves it.



Now

He wouldn't call them night and day exactly, but no other metaphor seems to come close. If he wanted to, Tezuka could point out each difference. And they are so different, unique in every way. The way they talk, laugh, worry. Smile. Kiss.

So drastically different off the court as well as on. He watches stoically as they train. Stationed at opposite ends of the court, both intently focused in their own way. A fleeting thought passes and Tezuka wonders if he should liken himself to the net. The barrier between the two, but that doesn't seem right either.

There is no competition. There is no angry or pettiness, just acceptance and support from each of them. Soon, the match ends. Oishi heads away, watching the rest of Eiji's game, and Fuji comes to stand by Tezuka's side.

And that's when Tezuka realizes what the perfect metaphor is. It makes perfect sense, and he can't help but wonder how he didn't realize it sooner. Night and day are too narrow of words to describe them, but past and present encompass all. Moreso, Tezuka realizes that he's lucky to live in the present, at the very spot where the two intersect.