( imagined you saw me ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imaginedyou) wrote2007-03-09 12:37 am
imaginedyou) wrote2007-03-09 12:37 am
Formerly chapter one [Eraser verse]
series title: Eraser Chapter One
fandom: Prince of Tennis
pairing/characters: Tezuka/Fuji, Yumiko.
summary: in any fiction (...) there was only ever room for three players (...) between adoring spouses, a seducer, or a child. - Imajica, Clive Barker.
notes: 2618 words. Future!fic, established relationship, angst coming up eventually. r/nc-17 rating from the beginning.
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1.
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The engine is a constant irritation in his mind; no matter how long the flight he never manages to let it fade into background noise. The woman two rows in front is having an obscenely loud conversation on her phone. Since this is first class she is allowed to do as she pleases, unless anyone speaks up to have her silenced. He can't be bothered with the hassle, prefers not to make enemies of people he doesn't even know. He takes out the rough draft of his interview to be approved and begins to read. The child behind him is out of his seat and is sitting on the floor leaning against his own. Tezuka hadn't realised they allowed children in first class; his parents must be of high importance to hold that much sway. At least the boy isn't kicking his chair.
It isn't that he enjoys luxury as such, but in his position he has to use the advantages given to him. And besides, economy is crowded and he hates feeling trapped, like he is wedged in with a bunch of cattle. The first time he had taken Fuji on holiday they had been in economy seating and Fuji had pretended to fall asleep on his shoulder, then laughed into his shirt the entire plane ride as the woman on his left whimpered to him about the absolute disaster that was her romantic life. He hadn't had the heart to shut her up or point out that Fuji's hand snaking its way into his lap to grasp his own made it rather clear he wasn't going to be offering to up and save her from her miserable track record at any point during the flight.
"Sir, can I get you a drink?" The air hostess asks, interrupting his reading.
"Water, please."
"Just water?" She frowns. "Are you sure? If there is something more complex you're wanting I'm sure we can accomodate you."
He is sure she's trained for much more than handing out bottles of mineral water from her trolley, but he is an athlete and alcohol is not on his menu. Not even if she pouts and smiles alternately at him for the rest of the trip.
"Just the water, thank you." He insists. She takes the brisk tone of his voice into consideration and leaves him be after that.
He stands away from the conveyor belt for luggage collection, waiting for the crowd to thin before he attempts to find his own things. He has no fear of anyone taking his sneakily; Fuji had used fabric paint in a moment of boredom to decorate all of his suitcases with floral patterns. Any bag thief would be too embarrassed to be seen walking away with it, and for that sensible reason only did Tezuka put up with it. So many times now ladies had complimented him loudly to their friends, speaking of how helpful that young man was carrying what must be his grandmother's or aunt's suitcase.
It wasn't until he stepped outside to find a taxi that he noticed the night sky, and remembered his flight was due in so late in the evening. He is thankful that he doesn't make it a habit to call Fuji ahead of time. The apartment is not in complete darkness when he enters, however; the kitchen light is on, and a mug of instant coffee sits on the counter-top, waiting to be filled with water from the kettle which had boiled hours ago.
Tezuka couldn't help but feel a little guilty knowing Fuji had intended to wait up for him, the fact that he was not at the kitchen table now making no difference to the intentions. On the windowsill sat a new cactus. Whenever Tezuka went away Fuji managed to kill a cactus - quite a feat considering the little care and attention they needed - and subsequently had to replace it with a new one before Tezuka's return. Fuji clearly did not believe Tezuka ever noticed.
Tezuka left his travel bag full of laundry in the kitchen and took his suitcase with everything else in it into the bedroom. He wouldn't know if Fuji did it every time he went away, but he would hazard an educated guess that he did; Fuji was sprawled out across the side of the bed closest to the door, Tezuka's side. Sometimes Fuji managed to reshape the mattress to his own body if it had been an extended trip. Certain tournaments lasted months, and Tezuka never ended up being defeated early on, after all.
He put the suitcase down by the door, resisted the urge to reach out and touch Fuji. No need to wake him at such a ridiculous hour. Instead he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Travelling left him feeling as though he'd been hiking through mud and dust, his clothes creased and crumpled as though they'd seen four straight days of wear.
Fuji could hear water running in his dream; it was what had made him suddenly aware that he needed to pee, and so when he woke and he could still hear the running water in his mind, it didn't really connect with reality. He was in the bathroom standing over the toilet before the steam from the shower warmed his face and woke him up properly. And then he actually noticed Tezuka under the spray of water.
Tezuka was so busy scrubbing the feel of travelling from his skin that Fuji reckoned Tezuka hadn't noticed his entrance. He carefully put the toilet seat lid down and sat upon it, watching as Tezuka methodically cleaned himself to the point where he was leaving pink marks on his skin. Even when he looked up and saw Fuji sitting there, he did not so much as flinch. He continued to finish his shower, but instead of following the sponge's path across his skin from then on his eyes stayed on Fuji's. When he stepped out, Fuji had a towel ready.
"Did I wake you?" Tezuka asked.
"The answer to that is subjective," Fuji replied with a smile.
"Yes, then."
"Do I look like I'm bothered?" Fuji asked, slipped hands up over Tezuka's bare chest. "I intended to be awake when you got home anyway."
He pressed his lips to Tezuka's and felt wet arms slip around his waist as they kissed.
"You should sleep though." Tezuka said in the bedroom, drying himself off and dressing in pyjama bottoms. Fuji stretched where he lay on the bed, didn't so much as yawn.
"I slept earlier." He admitted. "I'm not tired at all now. How about you?"
"I'm not back on Japan-time yet." Tezuka shrugged, laying down despite himself. "I slept earlier also."
The cool of the room disappeared as Fuji pressed himself to Tezuka's side.
"So, we're agreed then," he said with a smile. His hand idly made it's way onto Tezuka's chest. No matter how long he went away for at a time, still he never seemed to change. It was just what Fuji needed, to be reminded of that time after time. Though they were spending their lives together, a huge portion of the year each year was spent apart so that they might each persue their own careers.
If he pressed just a little harder, he could feel Tezuka's heartbeat.
"Tezuka," he said softly, "have you ever felt guilty for wanting to have sex?"
Tezuka's hand reached up to remove his glasses and put them on the bedside table. When he did that it was because he wanted to focus more intently. Without his glasses, he was forced to look harder, listen deeper.
"You've only been home all of half an hour." Fuji said. His throat choked back a laugh. "What a ridiculous thing to feel."
"It has been a few months." Tezuka replied. His arm under Fuji's side curled round to rest on Fuji's lower back, stroking bare skin while Fuji buried his face in Tezuka's neck and tried to pretend the touch wasn't giving him shivers. He could say that so casually, and then do that. His hand was moving lower.
Tezuka's hand ghosted over Fuji's boxers first, digging in his fingers to feel through the fabric. Fuji squirmed closer to him. He'd always been strangely sensitive there. His hips were almost flinching in response to the touch.
When his hand moved back up, it found the waistband of Fuji's boxers and his fingers dipped beneath. Fuji knew what was coming.
"Tezuka-" he began, lifting his head just a couple of inches and seeming like even that was too much effort. His voice was a whisper, syllables threatening to come apart in his mouth.
"Ssshh," Tezuka said in reply, angling his head to meet Fuji's lips and quiet his whimper as Tezuka's hand slipped further down and pressed a finger against him.
Fuji's leg curled itself around Tezuka's, spreading his legs further apart and pulling him half on top of Tezuka. The hand on Tezuka's chest tightened itself into a fist for lack of a shirt to hold onto. He broke the kiss with a gasp.
"Te-" he began again, breaking off when Tezuka's finger slid in all the way. "Oh, fuck."
Tezuka didn't appreciate expletives most of the time, but he was willing to make certain exceptions. Fuji's mouth was open, breathing raggedly onto Tezuka's neck. His back was arching and falling uncontrollably, pressing his erection harder against Tezuka's thigh. When it was this easy, it had obviously been far too long.
Tezuka could feel fabric bunching up on his thigh where Fuji was rubbing himself against his leg. He was highly tempted to reach down with his free hand into the front of Fuji's boxers until a hand closed around his nipple and ran it between two fingers firmly. It was his turn to gasp.
With his head thrown back suddenly there was a lot of Tezuka's neck available to touch. Fuji was just about adjusting to the finger inside of him that he knew at any moment would stroke him from the inside. And while he wanted it badly, he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it for long. And so his mouth made contact with Tezuka's skin as his fingers toyed with his nipple, teeth grazing skin before licking it clean. There was a groan just waiting to escape from Tezuka's chest, he could feel it rumbling beneath him. It was more than enough incentive to try harder.
It was the hand on his nipple seemingly giving up its teasing, and Tezuka could almost think clearly again, until he realised it was trailing down his stomach and aiming to slip under his pyjama bottoms. He used the moment of realisation to act, pulling his finger out of Fuji and replacing it with two.
Fuji faltered a moment, hips bucking violently, but as jerkily as he managed it, his hand ended up around Tezuka's cock. If he'd had a moment to think about it, he would've felt a vague sense of pride for accomplishing that much. Because after that there was just a series of shivers running through him like tiny electrical pulses, his legs clamped around Tezuka's thigh as he moved with no rhythm at all, just lusty, jerking movements which his hand was imitating. The lack of finesse didn't seem to bother Tezuka at all, however, his face flushing wonderfully, growing an ever deepening shade of pink. The more out of control his breathing became, the more Fuji wanted to steal it away from him.
Their mouths were pressed desperately together as Tezuka's fingers twisted a final time, brushing Fuji's insides in just the right spot, like pressing a button connected directly to his cock forcing him to come. His forehead was sweaty, strands of hair sticking to his skin, but he was determined things were not going to end like that. He had more skill than that.
Tezuka was still seeing shadowy images of Fuji's bottom lip curling inside his mouth as he came, his teeth and tongue holding it in. It was a mistake not to realise Fuji had ducked his head down, tugged away Tezuka's pyjama bottoms, and deep-throated him without hesitation.
If you wanted to talk about coming far too quickly, that would be the time. Tezuka couldn't even stop himself forcing his hips upwards to meet Fuji's impossible actions, but hands were already on him, holding him down. Of course Fuji knew what would happen, of course he would be prepared to pit his strength against it.
It had been mere months and somehow Tezuka had forgotten what Fuji could do with his tongue. Recalling it in hotel bathrooms was making a lie of how damn good it felt. Nothing you could imagine could feel so hot and wet and wonderful. He wasn't going to be able to hold out for much longer.
As usual, it was the eyes that did it. The wicked eyes that looked up at him and seemed to smirk from their depths, knowing how completely floored he was; if he had been on his feet, he would have collapsed to the floor long ago without stopping to notice it had hurt. He'd never begin to understand how Fuji had learnt to suppress his gag reflex so completely, and he didn't want to know, because that look of superiority, of being able to give Tezuka something that felt that good, that was what brought him to the edge and pushed him straight over.
That, and the way Fuji would use the back of his hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth, even when there was nothing there, lust clouding his eyes like that was what he had swallowed. He was content then to collapse into the crook of Tezuka's arm, reaching down to pull off his boxers with one hand and discard them from the bed.
"Yumiko is here." He said eventually. Tezuka did not see the import of being told this; the silence had been comforting.
"That's not unusual; she often stays with you when I am away."
"Tezuka, have you forgotten already? I told you on the phone!"
Tezuka paused for a moment, trying to search his memory for something related to Yumiko that Fuji had mentioned to him while he'd been playing his latest tournament. If it didn't concern Fuji or himself he tended to bury it in his mind and not worry about it too much.
"Yuuta's baby!" Fuji said eventually, unable to put up with the clueless face Tezuka was presenting any longer. "Don't you remember I told you Narumi gave birth last week? I told them we'd visit as soon as you got back, and you agreed it was fine."
"Oh." Tezuka said. "I hadn't forgotten. It's still fine."
"Good." Fuji said, his smile full of satisfaction. "Because we're still going tomorrow whether you like it or not. I made a promise. I'm an uncle now!"
"And we're taking Yumiko to see the baby too."
"Yes, Tezuka. 'The baby' is a girl, my niece, I hope you remembered. Yuuta demurred when I asked what her name was, he said they hadn't decided yet but I think he was lying. I wonder what it is that he couldn't tell me over the phone..."
Tezuka shook his head a little to himself and held back a small smile. It was best to leave Fuji to his musings when neither of them would be able to provide a definitive answer.
"Whether we're tired or not, perhaps it would be a good idea to sleep a little before morning then?" He suggested. Fuji nodded his acquiesce and Tezuka turned out the light.
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fandom: Prince of Tennis
pairing/characters: Tezuka/Fuji, Yumiko.
summary: in any fiction (...) there was only ever room for three players (...) between adoring spouses, a seducer, or a child. - Imajica, Clive Barker.
notes: 2618 words. Future!fic, established relationship, angst coming up eventually. r/nc-17 rating from the beginning.
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The engine is a constant irritation in his mind; no matter how long the flight he never manages to let it fade into background noise. The woman two rows in front is having an obscenely loud conversation on her phone. Since this is first class she is allowed to do as she pleases, unless anyone speaks up to have her silenced. He can't be bothered with the hassle, prefers not to make enemies of people he doesn't even know. He takes out the rough draft of his interview to be approved and begins to read. The child behind him is out of his seat and is sitting on the floor leaning against his own. Tezuka hadn't realised they allowed children in first class; his parents must be of high importance to hold that much sway. At least the boy isn't kicking his chair.
It isn't that he enjoys luxury as such, but in his position he has to use the advantages given to him. And besides, economy is crowded and he hates feeling trapped, like he is wedged in with a bunch of cattle. The first time he had taken Fuji on holiday they had been in economy seating and Fuji had pretended to fall asleep on his shoulder, then laughed into his shirt the entire plane ride as the woman on his left whimpered to him about the absolute disaster that was her romantic life. He hadn't had the heart to shut her up or point out that Fuji's hand snaking its way into his lap to grasp his own made it rather clear he wasn't going to be offering to up and save her from her miserable track record at any point during the flight.
"Sir, can I get you a drink?" The air hostess asks, interrupting his reading.
"Water, please."
"Just water?" She frowns. "Are you sure? If there is something more complex you're wanting I'm sure we can accomodate you."
He is sure she's trained for much more than handing out bottles of mineral water from her trolley, but he is an athlete and alcohol is not on his menu. Not even if she pouts and smiles alternately at him for the rest of the trip.
"Just the water, thank you." He insists. She takes the brisk tone of his voice into consideration and leaves him be after that.
He stands away from the conveyor belt for luggage collection, waiting for the crowd to thin before he attempts to find his own things. He has no fear of anyone taking his sneakily; Fuji had used fabric paint in a moment of boredom to decorate all of his suitcases with floral patterns. Any bag thief would be too embarrassed to be seen walking away with it, and for that sensible reason only did Tezuka put up with it. So many times now ladies had complimented him loudly to their friends, speaking of how helpful that young man was carrying what must be his grandmother's or aunt's suitcase.
It wasn't until he stepped outside to find a taxi that he noticed the night sky, and remembered his flight was due in so late in the evening. He is thankful that he doesn't make it a habit to call Fuji ahead of time. The apartment is not in complete darkness when he enters, however; the kitchen light is on, and a mug of instant coffee sits on the counter-top, waiting to be filled with water from the kettle which had boiled hours ago.
Tezuka couldn't help but feel a little guilty knowing Fuji had intended to wait up for him, the fact that he was not at the kitchen table now making no difference to the intentions. On the windowsill sat a new cactus. Whenever Tezuka went away Fuji managed to kill a cactus - quite a feat considering the little care and attention they needed - and subsequently had to replace it with a new one before Tezuka's return. Fuji clearly did not believe Tezuka ever noticed.
Tezuka left his travel bag full of laundry in the kitchen and took his suitcase with everything else in it into the bedroom. He wouldn't know if Fuji did it every time he went away, but he would hazard an educated guess that he did; Fuji was sprawled out across the side of the bed closest to the door, Tezuka's side. Sometimes Fuji managed to reshape the mattress to his own body if it had been an extended trip. Certain tournaments lasted months, and Tezuka never ended up being defeated early on, after all.
He put the suitcase down by the door, resisted the urge to reach out and touch Fuji. No need to wake him at such a ridiculous hour. Instead he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Travelling left him feeling as though he'd been hiking through mud and dust, his clothes creased and crumpled as though they'd seen four straight days of wear.
Fuji could hear water running in his dream; it was what had made him suddenly aware that he needed to pee, and so when he woke and he could still hear the running water in his mind, it didn't really connect with reality. He was in the bathroom standing over the toilet before the steam from the shower warmed his face and woke him up properly. And then he actually noticed Tezuka under the spray of water.
Tezuka was so busy scrubbing the feel of travelling from his skin that Fuji reckoned Tezuka hadn't noticed his entrance. He carefully put the toilet seat lid down and sat upon it, watching as Tezuka methodically cleaned himself to the point where he was leaving pink marks on his skin. Even when he looked up and saw Fuji sitting there, he did not so much as flinch. He continued to finish his shower, but instead of following the sponge's path across his skin from then on his eyes stayed on Fuji's. When he stepped out, Fuji had a towel ready.
"Did I wake you?" Tezuka asked.
"The answer to that is subjective," Fuji replied with a smile.
"Yes, then."
"Do I look like I'm bothered?" Fuji asked, slipped hands up over Tezuka's bare chest. "I intended to be awake when you got home anyway."
He pressed his lips to Tezuka's and felt wet arms slip around his waist as they kissed.
"You should sleep though." Tezuka said in the bedroom, drying himself off and dressing in pyjama bottoms. Fuji stretched where he lay on the bed, didn't so much as yawn.
"I slept earlier." He admitted. "I'm not tired at all now. How about you?"
"I'm not back on Japan-time yet." Tezuka shrugged, laying down despite himself. "I slept earlier also."
The cool of the room disappeared as Fuji pressed himself to Tezuka's side.
"So, we're agreed then," he said with a smile. His hand idly made it's way onto Tezuka's chest. No matter how long he went away for at a time, still he never seemed to change. It was just what Fuji needed, to be reminded of that time after time. Though they were spending their lives together, a huge portion of the year each year was spent apart so that they might each persue their own careers.
If he pressed just a little harder, he could feel Tezuka's heartbeat.
"Tezuka," he said softly, "have you ever felt guilty for wanting to have sex?"
Tezuka's hand reached up to remove his glasses and put them on the bedside table. When he did that it was because he wanted to focus more intently. Without his glasses, he was forced to look harder, listen deeper.
"You've only been home all of half an hour." Fuji said. His throat choked back a laugh. "What a ridiculous thing to feel."
"It has been a few months." Tezuka replied. His arm under Fuji's side curled round to rest on Fuji's lower back, stroking bare skin while Fuji buried his face in Tezuka's neck and tried to pretend the touch wasn't giving him shivers. He could say that so casually, and then do that. His hand was moving lower.
Tezuka's hand ghosted over Fuji's boxers first, digging in his fingers to feel through the fabric. Fuji squirmed closer to him. He'd always been strangely sensitive there. His hips were almost flinching in response to the touch.
When his hand moved back up, it found the waistband of Fuji's boxers and his fingers dipped beneath. Fuji knew what was coming.
"Tezuka-" he began, lifting his head just a couple of inches and seeming like even that was too much effort. His voice was a whisper, syllables threatening to come apart in his mouth.
"Ssshh," Tezuka said in reply, angling his head to meet Fuji's lips and quiet his whimper as Tezuka's hand slipped further down and pressed a finger against him.
Fuji's leg curled itself around Tezuka's, spreading his legs further apart and pulling him half on top of Tezuka. The hand on Tezuka's chest tightened itself into a fist for lack of a shirt to hold onto. He broke the kiss with a gasp.
"Te-" he began again, breaking off when Tezuka's finger slid in all the way. "Oh, fuck."
Tezuka didn't appreciate expletives most of the time, but he was willing to make certain exceptions. Fuji's mouth was open, breathing raggedly onto Tezuka's neck. His back was arching and falling uncontrollably, pressing his erection harder against Tezuka's thigh. When it was this easy, it had obviously been far too long.
Tezuka could feel fabric bunching up on his thigh where Fuji was rubbing himself against his leg. He was highly tempted to reach down with his free hand into the front of Fuji's boxers until a hand closed around his nipple and ran it between two fingers firmly. It was his turn to gasp.
With his head thrown back suddenly there was a lot of Tezuka's neck available to touch. Fuji was just about adjusting to the finger inside of him that he knew at any moment would stroke him from the inside. And while he wanted it badly, he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it for long. And so his mouth made contact with Tezuka's skin as his fingers toyed with his nipple, teeth grazing skin before licking it clean. There was a groan just waiting to escape from Tezuka's chest, he could feel it rumbling beneath him. It was more than enough incentive to try harder.
It was the hand on his nipple seemingly giving up its teasing, and Tezuka could almost think clearly again, until he realised it was trailing down his stomach and aiming to slip under his pyjama bottoms. He used the moment of realisation to act, pulling his finger out of Fuji and replacing it with two.
Fuji faltered a moment, hips bucking violently, but as jerkily as he managed it, his hand ended up around Tezuka's cock. If he'd had a moment to think about it, he would've felt a vague sense of pride for accomplishing that much. Because after that there was just a series of shivers running through him like tiny electrical pulses, his legs clamped around Tezuka's thigh as he moved with no rhythm at all, just lusty, jerking movements which his hand was imitating. The lack of finesse didn't seem to bother Tezuka at all, however, his face flushing wonderfully, growing an ever deepening shade of pink. The more out of control his breathing became, the more Fuji wanted to steal it away from him.
Their mouths were pressed desperately together as Tezuka's fingers twisted a final time, brushing Fuji's insides in just the right spot, like pressing a button connected directly to his cock forcing him to come. His forehead was sweaty, strands of hair sticking to his skin, but he was determined things were not going to end like that. He had more skill than that.
Tezuka was still seeing shadowy images of Fuji's bottom lip curling inside his mouth as he came, his teeth and tongue holding it in. It was a mistake not to realise Fuji had ducked his head down, tugged away Tezuka's pyjama bottoms, and deep-throated him without hesitation.
If you wanted to talk about coming far too quickly, that would be the time. Tezuka couldn't even stop himself forcing his hips upwards to meet Fuji's impossible actions, but hands were already on him, holding him down. Of course Fuji knew what would happen, of course he would be prepared to pit his strength against it.
It had been mere months and somehow Tezuka had forgotten what Fuji could do with his tongue. Recalling it in hotel bathrooms was making a lie of how damn good it felt. Nothing you could imagine could feel so hot and wet and wonderful. He wasn't going to be able to hold out for much longer.
As usual, it was the eyes that did it. The wicked eyes that looked up at him and seemed to smirk from their depths, knowing how completely floored he was; if he had been on his feet, he would have collapsed to the floor long ago without stopping to notice it had hurt. He'd never begin to understand how Fuji had learnt to suppress his gag reflex so completely, and he didn't want to know, because that look of superiority, of being able to give Tezuka something that felt that good, that was what brought him to the edge and pushed him straight over.
That, and the way Fuji would use the back of his hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth, even when there was nothing there, lust clouding his eyes like that was what he had swallowed. He was content then to collapse into the crook of Tezuka's arm, reaching down to pull off his boxers with one hand and discard them from the bed.
"Yumiko is here." He said eventually. Tezuka did not see the import of being told this; the silence had been comforting.
"That's not unusual; she often stays with you when I am away."
"Tezuka, have you forgotten already? I told you on the phone!"
Tezuka paused for a moment, trying to search his memory for something related to Yumiko that Fuji had mentioned to him while he'd been playing his latest tournament. If it didn't concern Fuji or himself he tended to bury it in his mind and not worry about it too much.
"Yuuta's baby!" Fuji said eventually, unable to put up with the clueless face Tezuka was presenting any longer. "Don't you remember I told you Narumi gave birth last week? I told them we'd visit as soon as you got back, and you agreed it was fine."
"Oh." Tezuka said. "I hadn't forgotten. It's still fine."
"Good." Fuji said, his smile full of satisfaction. "Because we're still going tomorrow whether you like it or not. I made a promise. I'm an uncle now!"
"And we're taking Yumiko to see the baby too."
"Yes, Tezuka. 'The baby' is a girl, my niece, I hope you remembered. Yuuta demurred when I asked what her name was, he said they hadn't decided yet but I think he was lying. I wonder what it is that he couldn't tell me over the phone..."
Tezuka shook his head a little to himself and held back a small smile. It was best to leave Fuji to his musings when neither of them would be able to provide a definitive answer.
"Whether we're tired or not, perhaps it would be a good idea to sleep a little before morning then?" He suggested. Fuji nodded his acquiesce and Tezuka turned out the light.
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