Warnings: (especially) cracky!Fuji! minor perversion!

Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis

Fuji could quit whenever he wanted to. Anime episode 104 crack. Mention of TezuFuji.

Klepto Maniac

The first thing Fuji noticed upon entering the hospital room was not the interior design, the smell (urine, antiseptics, and something like scratchy linen) or even its occupant. Instead, his gaze was inescapably drawn to the article on Tachibana's bedside table.

Tachibana followed his line of vision and smiled fondly despite himself.

Tachibana loved his grip tape.

They had been through so many great times together, like when he wrapped his racket counterclockwise and then had to re-do it, but the tape was such high quality the adhesive still stuck.

Those were the days.

He loved his grip tape more than Ann, and waking up across from it every morning was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Fuji stood, eyes creased, in the center of the room.

"Can I have that?"

With one simple request Tachibana and his one true love were forced to part. Tachibana had too much respect for Fuji's plan to symbolically avenge him in the match against Kirihara.

If you love someone set them free, he thought sadly as he handed off the grip tape.

Shiny, thought Fuji gleefully as his hand closed around it.

But Fuji didn't have a problem.

Fuji ghosted in besides Eiji, who was shoveling rice in his mouth at a speed inappropriate for the amount of time left in the lunch period.

Fuji folded his hands primly on the table.

"Eiji, you look stunning today."

A few errant pieces of rice tumbled out of Eiji's mouth.

Fuji passed Eiji a napkin.

"And where did you get your outfit?"

Eiji swallowed thickly.

" Fuji, we wear uniforms; everyone's outfits are the same."

Fuji seemed to ponder that for a moment, but that was an illusion because after a beat he jabbed his index finger in Eiji's face.

"I seemed to have cut my finger..."

Eiji's brow pursed in confusion and he stuck his bottom lip out.

"Mou, I don't see any cut."

Fuji brought his finger to his own face, and once again gave the appearance that he was actually considering Eiji's logic. Then he brought it into his mouth and swiftly bit it.

He presented his finger again.

"Right there."

Eiji looked like he was considering saying something contrary, but noticed the blood on Fuji's mouth and running freely down his finger and thought better of it.

"Ah, silly me. I see it."

Fuji smiled widely.

"Now, if only I had a bandaid..."

"Echizen, what a glorious day."

Ryoma heard Fuji's voice cut through the silence after a clap of thunder.

Ryoma didn't stop mid swing, or miss the ball, or show any indication that Fuji's appearance had been surprising. Even if the shock of his senpai popping up behind him at the practice wall in his back yard very possibly shaved three years off his young life.

If we're getting specific, it was also not a glorious day.

"Fuji-senpai, what you are doing at my house?"

Fuji angled his face up at the sky just as lighting broke.

"If a tree falls in the ocean do the sea anemones make a sound?"

Ryoma was used to Fuji's manner of deflecting questions, but admittedly his senpai's riddles usually made more sense. He bent to pick up a tennis ball near his shoe.

"Who knows, Fuji-senpai."

Fuji watched Ryoma's outstretched hand.

"While we're on the subject, I was wondering about your bracelet, Echizen."

Ryoma's hand missed the ball and he ended up picking up a clump of grass.

"Excuse me?"

Ryoma's eyes widened when Fuji's fingers closed around his wrist. Why did people always think they could manhandle the freshmen?

"Is it of sentimental value?"

Fuji ran his fingers over the blue cloth above his hand.

"Fuji-senpai, that's a sweatband."

Fuji tugged at it a little, but Ryoma swiped his arm away.

"Are you sure this will work, Fuji-senpai?"

"Sure it will, I've seen it on TV."

Momoshiro gripped the line attached to the back of his bike tightly and steadied himself on the roller blades. When Fuji had suggested riding in to school together, Momoshiro had envisioned two bikes, not being towed ten blocks.


Fuji rummaged in his backpack momentarily. He held something in his hand when he replaced it on the handlebar.

Momoshiro gulped and tried to maintain balance as Fuji began pedaling.

It wasn't so bad; Momoshiro could at least stay upright- maybe it was all those years of competitive unicycling-, but the scenery whizzing by was melting his nerve.

"Tell me if something like a stop is coming, OK?"

Unfortunately, because Momo screwed his eyes closed, he missed Fuji brandishing scissors, and therefore had little to explain how he wound up in a bush, with Fuji riding away on his bicycle.

Fuji very casually walked past Oishi's desk and, in plain view but with a great amount of stealth, pocketed Oishi's regular's jacket.

This was a feat in of itself because such large articles of clothing do not pocket easily.

Kaidoh's arm had that deep, satisfying burn that came from an intense workout. Even if flipping towels in the river sounded sort of low impact.

He watched the horizon, then a split second of towel as he flicked his wrist, horizon, towel, horizon, towel, horizon, towel, Fuji-senpai-


Kaidoh toppled backwards and landed with a splash. River water quickly seeped into the seat of his pants.

How Fuji managed to submerge himself in half a foot of current and then rise up in the time it took him to snap a towel, Kaidoh will never know.

"Enjoying physical fitness, Kaidoh?"

Kaidoh tried to stay polite, despite looking to all the world like he just lost bladder control

"Yes, senpai."

Fuji appeared to extend a hand to help Kaidoh up, but when Kaidoh tried to grasp it, it turned out Fuji was only flexing his arm.

"Hey look a drowning kitten, givemeyourbandana."

Kaidoh fell heavily back into the water after a failed attempt to get up.

Fuji looked pleased with himself. He thought he had slipped that in there quite nicely.

Kaidoh figured he'd deal with the more pressing matter first. A hint of rather unmanly compassion crept into his voice.

"Fuji-senpai, what kitten?"

"That kitten."

Kaidoh would have turned into whatever direction Fuji was pointing, but Fuji was only looking really intently at his head.

Kaidoh hurriedly drew up to his knees.


Fuji shoved him back in the water and grabbed his bandana.

Inui erased furiously, wrinkling the page. Good thing he had gone digital, his notebooks could barely handle the constant update of information.

Right now Fuji had, once again, completely contradicted his data. Months of toil had been futile.

Fuji crossed over from the court and stopped in front of him. He hadn't even broken a sweat during the match.

"Inui, I am on the tennis team."

Inui placed his pencil in his notebook and closed it, tucking it under his arm.

"There is a 100 percent chance, yes."

Fuji watched Inui adjust his glasses.

"I am usually placed in singles two."

Fuji clasped his hands behind his back.

"An 81.31 percent chance."

Fuji stepped forward, insistently.

"Also, sometimes I am made nervous by gunfire."

Inui cleared his throat.

"There is little that is helping me to understand your current mindset, Fuji."

Fuji motioned to his notebook.

"This is good stuff, you should be writing this down."

How could he forget the data?

"Everything you have stated has already been proven within a marginal degree of percent error."

"I agree, it was generous. Now in exchange…"

Fuji snatched off Inui's glasses, but Inui made no move to stop him. He always wore at least two pairs for security purposes.

He was about to advise Fuji that wearing his glasses would likely give him eye strain, but before he could word it in the nerdiest manner possible, Fuji had already put them on.

Inui then avidly took notes as Fuji began conversing with a chain link fence.

"If your family needs glassware, Fuji, I can probably get you some of the restaurant's discards."

From behind the counter, Taka had just watched Fuji none too spectacularly stuff a teapot, his plate, and his teacup into his shirt.

"That's all right, Taka-san. We're not some charity case."

"Tezuka, may I borrow some clothes?"

Tezuka placed his uniform shirt on the shelf and smoothed out the wrinkles.

"No, Fuji."

Fuji ignored the basic unwritten social rules of personal space. Tezuka ignored Fuji's appreciative glances towards his upper body.

"Is that a 'not now' or a 'yes'?"

Tezuka slipped his tennis shirt over his shoulders.

"I didn't bring any extra today."

Tezuka could hear the other regulars' conversations taper off.

"Oh, that's fine. Whatever you're wearing will do nicely."

The regulars crept in a collective huddle towards the door.

"I guess we'll leave you two alone then, buchou."

Fuji beamed.

"How considerate, Momo."

Tezuka glared. He had gotten careless. Especially considering the latest reports of Fuji's behavior, coupled with Fuji's frequent come-ons.

"Get back here, Momoshiro. Get Kaidoh off the floor. Kikumaru, Oishi, Kawamura, finish getting dressed, practice is in five minutes. And Fuji."

Tezuka reared on Fuji, who was rocking back and forth lightly on his feet.

"Maybe just the shorts, ne, Tezuka?"

"Thirty laps. And get some counseling."

A/N: I couldn't resist. Tezuka/Fuji owns me./ Commments?