Succession to the Throne
Summary: "Keigo, it may be time for you to pursue your career seriously." Both his mother and father said. And they didn't mean tennis.
Succession to the Throne
It felt like a repeat of his third year in junior high.
The strings groaned in protest as their owners abused them harder. The small yellow ball flew back and forth at an alarming speed and force.
But it was very unlike his third year in junior high.
Blue met gold as they acknowledged each other over the white net, over the flying ball, over the vicious swing of rackets, over their enormous egos.
The junior high to high school transition was nothing. It was more difficult, but he achieved the same position as he did back then.
The top.
The ball flew past his unguarded left and hit the corner. The ball bounced exactly where the lines intersected.
"Mada mada dane."
High school was larger than junior high ever was. Inevitably, his fan base was larger than it was in junior high.
So was the number of enemies.
"Atobe, is this the best you can do?" a sneer from the side lines. The same bothersome, arrogant, unskilled bastard.
It was a shame this was the son of the headmaster.
"Just because he can hit some balls around," he began snickering. "He thinks he's the king or something."
In high school, he was forced under more social pressures than he ever was in junior high.
From his father:
"Remember, that is the son of a very gracious backer. Do not cause problems."
From his mother:
"Remember, that is the daughter of our competitors. She's pretty don't you think?"
From his peers:
"Remember, that is Atobe Keigo. He's ."
There were a lot more expectations now. Much more than in junior high.
"Oi, Monkey King," the prince smirks (the king saw the flash of dissatisfaction before it disappeared as fleeting as it came). "Is that the best you've got?"
His flawless English and simmering aura has Seigaku cheering louder and harder.
Muga no Kyochi
"Keigo, it may be time for you to pursue your career seriously." Both his mother and father said.
Just at different times.
Father had been much more unrelenting, he started pestering in junior high.
Mother had been much more understanding (but not by much), she began nagging in high school.
And they didn't mean tennis.
"2 games all!" the umpire shouted over the loud cheering.
'Seigaku! Seigaku! Seigaku fight!'
'Hyotei! Hyotei! The winner will be Atobe!'
"How do you expect to go pro with just this?" The cap was adjusted just enough to see those challenging golden eyes.
"Who said I was going pro?"
Atobe delighted in the shock (he pretended the hurt wasn't there) written on the younger boy's face before turning away without answering any more.
"Atobe," he remembers Shishido saying to him once sometime in their first year in high school. "You don't need to listen to them you know."
He remembers smirking and replying of course, I do what I want.
"Keigo," he remembered Oshitari asking him once sometime in their second year in high school. "Are you really going to quit tennis?"
He remembers scoffing and replying yes, I have decided.
"Kei," he remembers Kabaji pondering to him once during this year. "It's not just because of your parent's is it?"
He remembers smiling and replying no, its not.
"40-15!" the score shushed the crowd as the white cap fell.
The younger boy couldn't even react to the sudden ball to his right. It had been the third time. He looked up to see the smirking face of the king.
Koori no Sekai.
"Oh," the prince responded with a smirk of his own. "It became more efficient."
The crowd began muttering, trying to make sense of those words.
"Saa, only Echizen would realize that so quickly," the Seigaku genius commented.
The data man of Seigaku began a detailed description of what both player on the court understood.
Ignoring the surprised gasps and proclamations of greatness, they continued to play.
"He beat you again Sanada." Taunt.
"Atobe." Acknowledgement.
"Isn't the prince something?" Casual.
"But he is still a prince." Their eyes met in a mutual understanding.
Surprisingly, they were not surprised at all.
"Tie break!" the umpire called out.
This match was beginning to seem like their last one.
Only this time, they were at semi finals for Nationals. This game decided who went on and who didn't.
The score board was tied.
7-5 Hyotei doubles two.
6-7 Seigaku doubles one.
5-7 Seigaku singles three.
7-6 Hyotei singles two.
"Tezuka, is there something you need?" Addressing the sudden intruder of peace and solitude.
"Atobe." Hesitant yet firm.
"Hm?" Waiting.
"…nothing." Glasses flashed against the sunlight.
"Is it about Echizen?"
"…" The silence affirmed the suspicions.
"Don't worry Tezuka." An indescribable expression.
"I'm not." Understanding and a fleeting smile.
"Sure."
They stood at the tennis courts for another hour before parting ways. Both knowing that what they had to do.
I know, the king thought in annoyance as a flash of glasses and sharp brown eyes flickered at his peripheral.
The racket groaned under the pressure of such a violent rally. Joints strained, muscles quivered, and eyes focused.
The rush of adrenaline was addicting and it was seen all over their faces. The bright eyes and upturned lips. The pure joy of playing tennis.
Seigaku cheered: Echizen! Ryouma-kun! Ochibi!
Hyotei cheered: Atobe! Buchou! King!
"147-147, Hyotei advantage!"
Again neither were willing to give up.
A frenzy of motion as shirt crumpled and breaths hitched. Lips met lips in a passionate lock before parting.
"Are you quitting tennis?"
Hands moved down and more skin revealed itself. Lips were made busy with the flesh that flaunted itself under the flimsy cloth.
Pleas, whines, groans, and screams passed as the heat, friction and sweat continued. Even in the cooling down as they snuggled their bodies into the silky covers, the question was ignored, avoided, and unanswered.
As if feeling the iron wall that came between them, the smaller snuggled closer to the larger mass. Something both of them usually avoided, especially the younger. Pulling the younger boy close in a rare instance of clinging, he whispered words of loving endearment trying to dispel the sudden uneasiness.
Without answering the question.
Truth to be told, Atobe Keigo didn't know how to tell him.
"167-169! The winner, Seigaku!"
Gold met blue, both fully conscious. The younger smirked and opened his mouth to deliver some arrogant last word. But the older was not listening.
"—didn't bet your hair this time."
"Echizen."
Gold eyes fastened on solemn blue and the smirk turned to a frown. Echizen Ryoma, the prince of tennis, did not like how his name had been said.
It sounded like the end.
The crowd which had just been cheering quieted down in a snap of the fingers. Only it didn't take that much. Only the oddly uncharacteristic softness of his voice. Only the sense of finality.
"If a prince stays a prince forever, then he loses the reason for his being."
Atobe's eyes met briefly with Rikkaidai's vice captain and Seigaku's captain. Both of them seemed content. Lips quirked, but later, neither would admit.
"The only reason to be a prince is to one day be a king."
And it was only right that Atobe Keigo relinquished his title.
After all, he was the true king.
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A/N: I'M BACK…into Prince of Tennis. Ah, Royal Pair, how I missed you two! Somehow I felt the need to do this position relinquishing thingy. After that chapter in Shin Prince of Tennis when Atobe beat Hiyoshi, I was like 'OMG, passing it on!'
So yeah, hahahaha, I hope you enjoyed my short-er-long quickie! I enjoyed writing it. Ah, do I enjoy Prince of Tennis. All the crack and angst and seriousness and stupidness! I'm glad to be back into the fandom!