The entire place was flooded with the usual tourists and the locals that stayed and opened tourist attraction shops within the town that was housed at the foot of the tower. Everything was lit in orange and gold, and he moved valiantly through the people, fighting to catch a glimpse of a familiar coat, or even the rare blue eyes that would have glowed like stars when he saw something beautiful, his fingers curled instinctively around his camera. People were desperately looking for souvenirs even at that hour, people were milling around him in all directions, but the one he sought was nowhere in sight.

In the air, there was a quietness that he didn't like, but welcomed nonetheless.

Absently, he noted that it was often the same stillness that came before a sudden storm, and abruptly, he raised his eyes to meet a familiar pair of blue eyes that were watching him from a distance. They were separated by a street and the countless people that passed between them, but his hopes rose sharply. It was the corner of the mouth that quirked in a smile, the hand that slipped inside the pocket of his coat, but most of all, it was his eyes which captured him, the eyes which were held a blue as the sky and as infinite.

It was beginning to rain.

When he was in Germany, he had lain awake for many nights, until one day he had gone to sleep, and awoke to find himself in an almost ethereal mood, the remnants of a warm voice and an even warmer presence gradually fading from his arms. Ever since that time, he had left a radio, or even his television set on throughout the night, attempting to recreate the same night where the voices had bubbled out of his consciousness, passing by him and leaving him with the same sense of stillness, a quietude where fate balanced upon a hair's end and waited to fall in either direction.

He remembered Fuji's smile, eclipsed for so long, and brought out into the sun at last, the familiar creasing of his eyes and warm lips touched into a genuine smile.

It felt a little like drowning.

I have fought against it for all my life, and now that I am free, I would rather belong to you again.

I love you.

There was no one waiting on the other side of the street.

It was an insane idea. A fanciful notion which had taken hold of him and refused to backdown. He should have known that it was imposible for Fuji to appear again and he was insane to hope otherwise. There was simply no way that someone - anyone - would reappear after all these years. The nights in Tokyo, ablaze with lights which made one think it was still day after all – were the loneliest that one could ever experience. When it rained, there was a dichotomy of pain and release, and when it poured, the tower was still there, burning like the sun in all its honey-hued splendour and promising to take the darkness away from you. All lies. Nothing but lies to make one believe in the fairytale image of Tokyo and overlook the drenched streets, the twisted barbs that lay in people's hearts, and even the desolation that arose, because even that was beautiful.

Tezuka blinked against the rain, before realising that a pair of arms circled his waist, and a familiar warmth was pressed against him.

He wasn't crying – it was raining, after all.

It was only the rain that obscured his sight and made it impossible to see anything in that moment.


A/N: I actually wrote several paragraphs of angsty reflections before this, as well as an ending where Fuji didn't come back at all. However, it made me feel really bad for everyone, so I figured that 7 chapters of unhappiness was enough, and people deserved a good ending from time to time.

Now, onto something lame! If anyone is wondering why I chose the Tokyo Tower, it's because you can see Mt Fuji from there. XD