While walking around some of the expensive shops in Vegas, this popped into my head: "Is it bad that I can totally see Atobe here?" And thus, this monstrous thing exploded into my brain and demanded to get out. Much love and hugs to my darling friend Relle, who helped with details such as Tezu's occupation and Atobe's suite.

Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis.

Just Another Coincidence

"...Oshitari."

A smirk. "Yes?"

"Isn't this a little... over the top?"

The navy-haired man smirked, pushing his glasses further up onto his nose. "Like you're really one to talk, Atobe. You're the most over-the-top person I know."

Atobe Keigo raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the... rather large... room in front of him. "It's not that I'm complaining," he said after a moment. "I'm not. But was the penthouse suite really necessary for a three-day trip?"

Oshitari grinned at his friend. "Welcome to Las Vegas."

Atobe sighed and elegantly flopped down into one of the nearby couches of the living room. Dark, silvery curls spilled out onto the ivory-colored cushion as the man leaned his head back wearily. "...Remind me again why I'm here, Oshitari."

Oshitari sat down next to his friend. "You need a break, Atobe," he said, putting a hand on Atobe's shoulder. "You need some time to get out and just relax for a bit. Away from work."

Atobe supposed his friend had a point. He had taken over his family's business after college, as was his destiny. It certainly wasn't bad, working as the head of a rich and prestigious company, but he did admit that after several years of nonstop work, a break was much in order. However, there was one problem with the whole scenario: Oshitari Yuushi was the one to do the vacation planning.

"...Oshitari, Vegas?"

"What's wrong with Vegas?"

"It's... Vegas."

"It's a good place to go and have fun for a few days," Oshitari said calmly.

Atobe growled in his throat, eyes closed as he leaned back against the couch. "If by 'have fun' you mean 'gamble your money away and have sex with whores,' then yes, this is the perfect place to do just that."

Oshitari smirked. "Lighten up, Atobe. This may be Sin City," he drawled, looking out the window at the bright lights of the Strip, "but I'm afraid that neither of those things are on my agenda for this weekend."

Atobe lifted his head slightly and opened one eye, glancing warily at the other man. "Agenda?"

"Yes. Agenda." Oshitari's glasses flashed. "We're going to go see a show, and gamble, and shop in the malls."

Atobe snorted, laying his head back down. "You mean those cheap peasant malls. I never saw the appeal."

Oshitari raised an eyebrow at this, amused. "Oh, I don't know, Atobe," he said. "You'd be surprised. Especially in a city like this-- there are a lot of fancy, expensive stores."

"I know that. It's not like I haven't been here before. But... Oshitari, Las Vegas."

Oshitari smiled, holding up a hand innocently. "What's wrong with it?"

"Oh, nothing at all... just that what's not high-class is trashy, there are people handing out ads for prostitutes on the streets, and the slot machines are the devil," Atobe replied, ticking off the reasons on his fingers as he went.

"Come now, surely the slot machines aren't that bad?" Oshitari laughed.

"They're idiotic and they steal your money," Atobe concluded.

"...Well, it's a nice hotel," Oshitari offered amusedly. Atobe had nothing to say to that; the Venetian was a five-star hotel, one of the best in the area.

There was a long pause in which both of them sat on the couch, unmoving. Finally Atobe turned his head to look at Oshitari and murmured, "I still don't see why you had to drag me out to a place like this just to take a break from work for a little while."

"Oh, it'll be fun, don't worry," Oshitari said, smirking. "I promise."

"...You sound like you're plotting something, Oshitari."

The light caught the other man's glasses again, hiding his eyes. "Maybe I am."

Atobe sighed. "...Just promise me you won't kill anyone."

-o0o-

"I win again."

Face blank, Atobe collected the betting chips from the middle of the table. He and Oshitari had split up somewhere in the casino a while back, and Atobe had decided to put a bit of his family's enormous fortune on the line. After all, just because he didn't like the slot machines didn't mean he couldn't indulge in other forms of gambling-- namely, poker.

So far, he'd been having good luck with cards tonight-- though a lot of that had to do with the sheer amount of practice he'd gotten, Atobe decided. He'd gotten good at the game back in middle school and high school, when Hyoutei Gakuen's tennis club regulars held their spontaneous late-night hangouts, staying up well into the night playing idiotic teenage party games as well as various forms of poker and other card games. Atobe had creamed all of their asses at cards back then; his keen insight and well-practiced poker face earned him win after easy win.

"I'll join this one," a deep voice to Atobe's left said in English suddenly, jerking the man out of his thoughts. He glanced over, then did a double take. Taking a seat in the previously empty chair was a man, a very familar one, around his own age, with untamed brown hair and stern, impassive eyes framed behind oval glasses. Despite the fact that they hadn't seen each other in years, Atobe recognized him instantly.

"T-Tezuka!" he stuttered, unable to control his shock for a moment.

The man glanced over at him, and, after a moment, his eyes widened, recognition dawning. "Atobe?!"

Atobe stared for another minute; Tezuka stared right back. Finally, Atobe laughed, effectively breaking off their impromptu staring match. "Well, this is a surprise, isn't it? Seeing you here."

Tezuka nodded curtly. That familiar impassive mask of his was back on, but Atobe could still see a bit of wonder and no small amount of surprise behind those spectacles.

The game started up again, and this time, Atobe found himself distracted. It was natural, he told himself, after an encounter like this. Tezuka had looked about as startled as Atobe felt. How often is it that you run into an old rival, halfway around the world from both of your homes?

Atobe's mind wandered; he found himself paying more attention to the sudden wave of nostalgia that swept over him than to the game he was playing. Had it been anyone else, Atobe wouldn't have been half as distracted as he was now, but this was Tezuka. Tezuka Kunimitsu, star tennis player of Japan, unattainable dream of so many. He and Atobe had both been captain of their respective teams in middle school-- himself of Hyoutei, Tezuka of Seigaku. Ever since he heard the name floating about, Atobe had been interested in and even almost fascinated with Tezuka, this player that was determined and talented and three days younger than him. Since playing Tezuka, and discovering that raw passion of his, Atobe had always thought of the other captain as someone to be respected; this feat was achieved by very few when it came to someone as arrogant and eccentric as he. Atobe in those days had harbored a special sort of feelings for Tezuka-- an admiration bordering on the point of obsession.

Since the end of high school, and, consequently, the end of school tennis tournaments, the two of them had fallen out of touch-- though, to be fair, they had never really been in touch in the first place. Atobe was busy with his work ever since college ended, having little time for much else; however, the man kept an eye on national and international pro tennis tournaments, always expecting Tezuka to turn up in one of them. He never did.

How ironic was it that Atobe had spent all this time searching for Tezuka in the world of tennis, a world that he no longer belonged to, in vain, only to find Tezuka right here beside him in this dismal, dirty world?

Atobe's train of thought was derailed suddenly, as Tezuka calmly collected that round's winnings from Atobe's left.

"Dammit, how many times does this make now...?" Atobe muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. A glance in his direction was Tezuka's only answer.

In the next round, Atobe raised the bet.

Tezuka's face remained blank as he put in the extra money. (That man had the perfect poker face. Not that Atobe expected anything less, but really, it was unnerving.) "Confident?"

"Ore-sama will not lose to you," Atobe declared.

"Hm." Tezuka raised the bet.

-o0o-

Oshitari was already in the room when Atobe returned.

"You'll never guess who I ran into down in the casino," Atobe said as he flopped down on the couch across from his friend.

Oshitari looked from his book. "Bigfoot?"

Atobe gave him a Look.

Oshitari laughed. "Fine, fine. Who did you see?"

"Tezuka." Atobe leaned forward. "Tezuka Kunimitsu. From Seigaku."

Oshitari's eyebrows shot up. "...Well, this is a surprise," he murmured finally, closing his book and setting it aside on the glass coffee table.

"I know." Atobe's voice dropped. "It's been ages..."

Oshitari watched his companion's face carefully. After he was confident that Atobe had slipped off into his own little world, Oshitari discreetly pulled his cell phone out from his front jacket pocket and sent a text message.

They met already. The plan is working better than we thought. -O

--o0o-

The sun was beating down on Atobe's face as he and Oshitari walked down the Strip. For a city, it sure was... bright in the daytime.

Atobe squinted against the light. The part of Vegas they were staying in had been rather upscale and grand, not to mention all the bright lights, but as he walked further down the Strip, the whole place just got... trashy.

"Oshitari."

"Yes?"

"Why is ore-sama here?"

Oshitari chuckled. "Think of it as an educational experience, Atobe."

"Look at this place." Atobe gestured to the crowded streets around him. "Construction to my left, prostitute ads to my right, dust and trash everywhere... Never before have I set foot in such filth."

Oshitari's laugh was merrier this time. "Just remember," he advised, "what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

"...Meaning nobody else will ever have to know of this."

"Right."

Atobe continued to shield his eyes as they walked. It really was poor down here. A line of dingy, desperate little tourist shops emerged on his left, a far cry from the skyscrapers and towering hotels from earlier. Tourists and not-so-well-off locals populated the area around the shops; it wasn't too hard to sort them out. Trash could easily be spotted on the sidewalks, and the whole area just had a feel of dust.

"...It really is trashy down here," Atobe said quietly.

Oshitari sighed and nodded. "They may try to cover it up with flamboyance and bright lights, but in the end, it's still Sin City."

-o0o-

"Well! Isn't this a surprise."

Atobe stood by his seat in the front row of the theater, right eye twitching slightly. He shouldn't have been complaining, really. There was something very... wrong with this situation.

The fact that his and Oshitari's seats for Cirque du Soleil's Kà just happened to be right next to Tezuka's and Fuji's seats didn't help.

Behind him, Atobe could hear Oshitari giving a fake-surprised laugh. (There wasn't much a difference between fake and real, but after knowing him for this long, Atobe could tell.) "Well, if it isn't Tezuka and Fuji! What ever are you two doing here?"

Fuji Syuusuke, Seigaku's genius and brown-haired beauty, answered with an equally fake laugh. "Well, I decided to get Tezuka and myself tickets for the show, and they just so happen to be right here! Isn't that a wild coincidence?!"

"Yes, of course!" Cue more fake laughter.

Atobe had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. 'Coincidence,' my ass. Oshitari was the one who booked these tickets. They're plotting something. As the four of them sat down together, Atobe glanced at Oshitari out of the corner of his eye. Their acting is terrible. If they didn't want us to know, they would have been trying harder. So they want us to know they're setting us up...

Atobe sighed. He sorely hoped that Tezuka had caught on to all this. Glancing discreetly to his right, Atobe caught a look at him. The other man was sitting, arms crossed, with his eyes closed, and a definite "I'm surrounded by idiots" look on his face. Ah, so he did notice. Good.

And then the performers were calling for the audience's attention; the show would be starting soon. Deciding he would interrogate Oshitari later, Atobe turned his attention to the front of the theater.

The show was stunning: a whirl of colors and music and magic and danger all at once. The stage was a moving rectangle in a pit of empty space, and from the moment it rose up into view with the martial arts performance that opened the act, Atobe could tell that this would be different from any of the shows he had seen yet (and he had seen a lot of shows).

Still, even with the beauty of the Cirque in front of him, Atobe couldn't help but be distracted throughout the whole thing, ever so slightly distracted by Tezuka's presence on his right. Their companionship during those few hours was anxious and somewhat strained, as neither had agreed to this arrangement. And yet, Atobe couldn't help but feel oddly comfortable with this presence at his side, as if it hadn't been years since he'd seen the other man, as if he hadn't once secretly harbored feelings of admiration and respect and even infatuation for him. He was nervous and calm and anxious and relaxed all at once, and he couldn't figure out which, so he decided to try and push those feelings aside and put his mind solely on the show. It was half-working.

And then the show ended with a flourish and a standing ovation, and when the lights finally came up the theater was filled with chatter about how wonderful that was. The four of them exited together, talking over their shoulders as they made their way through the crowd.

"So, what did everyone think?" Fuji asked cheerfully as he led the way out.

"It was wonderful," Oshitari replied from behind Atobe. "As expected from Cirque du Soleil."

Tezuka nodded. "It was... beautiful."

A beat later, Atobe nodded as well. "Definitely a fine performance," he agreed. "Larger than life... but I shouldn't expect much else from this city, anyway."

Fuji continued the conversation once they were outside of the gift shop. "So where are you two staying?"

"The Venetian," Atobe replied, before Oshitari had a chance to continue with their scheme.

"Ah, really?" Fuji's smiling face and tone did not change. "Tezuka and I are staying there as well."

"Is that so."

"Yes, it is." Fuji showed no sign of intimidation at Atobe's tone.

They all walked back to the hotel together; there was no reason not to, and besides, Atobe got the feeling that even if he had tried to go alone, neither of the resident tensais would have allowed it. The Strip at night was rather surreal; it was a long walk all the way to the Venetian from the MGM, but Atobe refused to hail a cab, and besides, it wasn't as if they couldn't walk in their shoes, unlike some of the women Atobe had seen in the theater.

In the front of the group, Fuji and Oshitari had a running commentary going on all the different sights to be seen as they walked; Atobe and Tezuka, bringing up the rear, were unsurprisingly silent. The distraction that had been in the back of Atobe's mind all throughout the show was becoming a major one now, threatening to overwhelm him. This was Tezuka, of all people, beside him. Atobe found himself sneaking glances at the characteristically quiet man as they walked.

Finally, they arrived at the hotel. While the four of them were waiting for an elevator in the lobby, Fuji spoke up again. "Why don't you two come up to our room with us? To catch up, I mean. It's been a long time."

"Sure. That sounds nice," Oshitari replied amiably.

Damn manipulative bastards... All Atobe wanted at this point was to go up to his room, collapse in his large fluffy bed, and put Tezuka out of his mind for the rest of the night. It had been years since he'd so much as heard a word about the man, and the sudden rendezvous had Atobe in a swirl of emotions that he was too tired to sort out at the moment. But neither Fuji's nor Oshitari's tones of voice left any room for argument.

Tezuka and Fuji's room was much smaller than Atobe's own; it was a standard room, with two beds, and a sunken-in living room area beyond.

Atobe surveyed it critically. "Nowhere near as luxurious as the penthouse suite, of course, but it'll do," he said at length.

"I'm sorry I'm not as rich as you are, Atobe," Fuji remarked cheerfully, sitting down on the nearest bed to take his shoes off. "The show tickets cost me enough."

"And besides, I believe it was you who thought that the penthouse suite was over-the-top," Oshitari added as he entered the suite further to sit down next to Fuji.

Atobe gave in and sat down next to them; Tezuka just stood in the entranceway. "I'm going to go take a shower," he murmured, loosening his tie a bit.

"Of course, Tezuka," Fuji chirped. Tezuka disappeared behind the nearby door, and a minute later, Atobe could hear the water running.

The three of them sat in a makeshift circle on the bed, chatting about recent happenings and updating each other on what had gone on in everyone's lives since high school. Atobe paid as much attention to the conversation as he could, and tried to ignore the fact that he could hear Tezuka showering right in the next room.

It had only been maybe twenty minutes when Oshitari stood up again, however. "I'm going to back down and do a bit more gambling before I retire for the night," he told the other two. Before Atobe could say a word to try and escape with him, Oshitari had his shoes on and was heading out the door. "See you, Atobe."

Said former captain growled at his friend's sudden disappearance. "Bastard doesn't even ask if I want to come with him..." he muttered, sliding off the bed. He had put his shoes on and was heading for the door when Fuji's voice stopped him. "Atobe."

Atobe sighed internally. "Yes?" he asked, turning around.

Fuji's normally perpetual smile was gone from his face now. "You can stop holding back now."

Atobe frowned at him. "I don't understand what you mean."

Fuji's eyes opened, dangerous blue glinting at Atobe, a smile playing on his lips. "You know exactly what I mean," was his reply. "You've known what I meant for a long time."

Atobe leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. "Elaborate, if you please," he ordered. "Ore-sama doesn't have time for games."

"You can drop the arrogant act, Atobe," Fuji said, waving a hand in the air to illustrate his point. "There's more to you than that mask you wear. I know that. Tezuka knows that. He's known that since middle school."

Atobe was silent for a while. "...Even I'm not sure what's an act anymore, Fuji," he replied softly.

"Then why don't you just be yourself?" Fuji asked patiently. "I know you think of Tezuka as more than just an acquaintance. He's been losing his way, Atobe. He needs someone to help him back on track of his life."

"And you can't do that for him?"

"I can only do so much. I'm his friend, but that's all. He needs something more. Someone special."

Atobe's face had gone blank. "...And you think I can be that for him?"

Fuji smiled sadly at him. "I don't know, Atobe. But you have a better chance than anyone else."

Atobe laughed. "What about that Echizen?"

Fuji's smile was gone again. "Echizen is out there following his dream," was all he said. "And Tezuka isn't. And more than anything, he's Echizen's mentor. It's just not quite enough."

Atobe was silent as he pondered this. "...Why are you doing this?" he said quietly at length.

"I'm his friend," Fuji said immediately. "I'm his friend, and I care about him. I don't want to see him fall apart."

Atobe was motionless at first; after a minute, he nodded, then headed for the door again.

"Atobe."

About to exit, Atobe turned around again.

"He's never blamed you, you know."

Atobe nodded. "I know."

And he left.

-o0o-

"I just talked to Atobe. About Tezuka. I told him that he's not doing very well."

"All right. Frankly, I don't think Atobe's doing too well either. He seems... confused."

"Ah, so you could tell?"

"I've known him for the past ten years. He may act like nothing ever bothers him, but we all notice these things."

"Of course. You're his team, after all. ...You should say something to him. He knows we're behind this now, at least."

"Okay. Yeah, I'll talk to him."

"Good."

-o0o-

When Atobe finally got back up to his suite, the first thing he did was take a long, hot shower. It felt good to just stand there and let the warm water pour down onto his back for a while. He needed to sort out his feelings, and Fuji's words were still poking and prodding at him mischievously. It felt like a full orchestra was playing in his head, frankly, and he needed to figure out what he was going to do from here.

It was a good hour before Atobe finally came out of the shower. He had changed into his bathrobe and had just flopped down onto one of the beds when Oshitari entered the room.

"...Oshitari." Atobe gave him the evil eye. "You were plotting something."

"I did say that I might be," Oshitari answered evenly, crossing the room to sit down beside Atobe. "Are you alright?"

"Of course."

"Don't lie to me, Atobe."

Atobe leveled a stare at him. "You too?"

Oshitari sighed and smiled slightly. "What's wrong?"

Atobe closed his eyes, running a hand over his face. "It's just... I... this is so sudden, Oshitari, I... I haven't seen his face years and all of a sudden I run into him, and all of these emotions come rushing back..." He drew in a breath. "I'd forgotten I knew how to feel this way."

Oshitari put an arm around his shoulders comfortingly. "Just go with your heart and set your sight on your goal. Nothing's ever stopped you before."

Atobe leaned his head on Oshitari's shoulder, eyes still closed. "'Go with your heart'... you're such a sap, Oshitari."

Oshitari chuckled. "I know."

A long pause ensued after that. Atobe broke the silence, murmuring, "But... how would you suppose I go about accomplishing my goal?"

"Just be yourself, Atobe." Oshitari paused, and Atobe swore he could hear his friend smirk. "...I hear the Flamingo has tennis courts."

Atobe grinned.

-o0o-

Despite having talked to both of the resident schemers the day before about their plan, Atobe didn't run into Tezuka all morning the day after that. He and Oshitari spent the morning lounging in their suite, gambling, and exploring the shops. Oshitari finally forced Atobe onto the slot machines, which resulted in Atobe yelling at the insolent machine for stealing all of ore-sama's money. They had lunch in a little café in the Venetian shops, watching the gondolas go by in the man-made river as they ate.

Now, Atobe was alone, roaming the hotel's mall. He and Oshitari had split up a while ago, with the other man going off to do some gambling alone. Atobe preferred to stay among the shops; he felt rather at home among all the ridiculously expensive designer stores.

Something in the corner of Atobe's eye caught his attention, and before he could stop himself, he was turning to look at the source of his distraction.

And who else could it be, of course, but the object of his thoughts for the past few days. Tezuka was inside one of the white, expensive shops, browsing through a clothing rack.

Atobe grinned. He didn't think this time; he acted on impulse. Entering the store and sauntering right up behind Tezuka, he said clearly, "Well, this is quite the coincidence, ahhn?"

Tezuka stiffened. Turned around. Blinked once. Yes, Tezuka, it's really me, Atobe felt like saying.

Instead, he moved forward to stand next to the other man. "I didn't know you shopped in places like these."

"...I don't." Tezuka turned back to the clothing rack. "I'm just looking. I don't have enough money."

"I see." It was easy for Atobe to forget sometimes that not everyone could afford to spend all the money in the world.

They remained in the store for a while, making small talk (mostly on Atobe's end) and browsing through the selection. The lone sales clerk at the counter was looking at them expectantly, as if she was hoping to make her first sale in a while.

Nothing in particular caught Atobe's eye. But he did notice that Tezuka kept eyeing a particular brown coat. After pondering it for a minute, Atobe went over to examine the article. He ran a hand across the shoulder. It was a nice coat. Soft, made of some expensive material.

He turned slightly; Tezuka had come to stand beside him, also looking at the coat.

"...It's nice, isn't it?" Atobe tried after a moment.

"Yes, it is."

Silence. Atobe glanced at his companion. He's not going to ask for it. He never would. The silver-haired man smirked. Well, if that's the case...

"I'll get it for you."

Tezuka blinked, and turned to stare at Atobe. "What?"

"I'll get it for you," Atobe repeated calmly. He plucked the coat off the rack. "This is about your size, isn't it? I don't mind having to--"

"Atobe, no," Tezuka breathed, eyes widening slightly. But Atobe had already started towards the cash register, hearing no part of it. "I... Atobe, the cost..."

Said man stopped. So Tezuka had noticed the price tag.

He turned around, looking his companion right in the eye. "Tezuka," he said slowly, "I belong to one of the richest families in Japan. This--" he held up the coat, "--is nothing."

Tezuka was still gaping at him (as much as a stone-faced man like Tezuka could gape, anyway). Accepting that as an approval, Atobe turned around and headed back to the cash register.

A few minutes later found the two of them exiting the store, one with a shopping bag and the other with a triumphant smile on his face.

"...Thank you," Tezuka murmured after a moment.

Atobe waved the comment off. "I told you, it was nothing," he said lightly.

They walked together in silence for a while. At length, when they were strolling next to the man-made river, Atobe stopped in his tracks. "...Tezuka."

Tezuka stopped as well, and turned around. "Atobe?"

"Play a match with me," Atobe said suddenly.

Tezuka just blinked. "...A match?"

"Yes." Atobe looked at him evenly.

"But... Atobe..." A slight change in expression. Atobe was learning the subtleties of Tezuka's emotions. "There aren't any tennis courts around..."

"There are some at the Flamingo." Atobe held his chin up, staring Tezuka defiantly in the eye. I'm not going to back down from this.

Tezuka sighed, understanding Atobe's silent message. "I don't have my tennis rackets with me."

"You can borrow one of mine."

Tezuka gave him a deadpan look.

Atobe smirked.

-o0o-

Not long after, the two were walking through the Flamingo hotel towards the pool area-- Atobe radiating triumph, Tezuka showing no emotion.

When they approached the pool gate without stopping, the attendant held up a hand. "Hold up," he said lazily. "Guests only in here. I'll have to see your room keys."

Atobe raised an eyebrow and smirked. Moving forward until he was right in front of the younger man, Atobe leaned forward and pressed a few bills into his hand. "What say I show you this instead," he murmured, "and we forget this ever happened?"

The pool attendant glanced down at the bills in his hand. His eyes widened suddenly, and he hastily stuffed the money into his pants pocket. "I never saw you," he agreed.

Atobe grinned. Success. He strode into the pool area, Tezuka following behind.

"You're not allowed to do that, you know," Tezuka remarked calmly from behind him.

Atobe flapped a hand nonchalantly. "I'm Atobe Keigo," he said, as if that solved everything. "Of course ore-sama can rent out the tennis courts in a hotel he's not staying at."

They reached the tennis courts a minute later. From the moment he entered through the chain-link fence, Atobe instantly felt at home once more. This was going to be the best game he'd played in a long time; Atobe could tell.

"Rough or smooth?" Atobe asked when they stood at the net.

"Smooth," Tezuka replied evenly.

Atobe spun his racket; once it fell, he picked it up, and looked at the grip. He smirked. "Your serve."

-o0o-

He felt like he was flying.

As the ball bounced-- no, rocketed-- back and forth between them, Atobe truly felt, for the first time in a long time, like he was flying. It was true that Tezuka wasn't nearly as good as he had been back in middle school-- Atobe could tell in the way Tezuka served, in the way that he hit-- but neither was he, for that matter. And right now he didn't really care, because this was Tezuka he was playing, and this was the rematch he'd been dreaming of for so long. Tezuka would send him a powerful serve, and Atobe would return it eagerly with an equally powerful shot; Tezuka would then end the point with a well-placed zero-shiki drop shot. It was exhilerating. They played on and on, evenly matching each other.

Yes. This is it. This is what I've been missing, Atobe thought hazily through the fog of ecstasy in his mind. This is the life I should've lived.

And then there was a clatter, and all the movement halted, and Tezuka was kneeling on the ground clutching his arm.

Déjà vu.

Atobe felt slightly sick.

His perfect world in the clouds suddenly came crashing down.

-o0o-

They sat on the bed in Tezuka's hotel room, alone, in silence.

Atobe stared at Tezuka expectantly, lips pressed together tightly. "Well?"

Tezuka sighed, not looking at Atobe. "...I guess you didn't know. A few months after I entered the pro circuit, I injured my arm again." He gripped his left arm tightly. "They couldn't heal it."

Atobe's gaze didn't change. "Somehow I'm not surprised."

Tezuka looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

Atobe's eyes narrowed. "I mean you always do this. You always throw away your future for the sake of living in the moment. You did it back in middle school, Tezuka, and just now you were doing it again."

"What's wrong with that? What's wrong with wanting to give my all in each match I play?" Tezuka defended.

"You can't give more than you've got, Tezuka," Atobe said bitterly. "You've always done this. One match is not worth a lifetime of hurt and regret."

"Some matches are."

"This one wasn't."

"You asked to play me. The best I could do was play you with everything I had." Tezuka's face was frowning slightly; Atobe could see he was getting upset.

Atobe gripped Tezuka by his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "I don't want that if it means you hurt yourself in the process!" he said fiercely. Then he dropped his arms limply to his sides and looked away. "Argh, forget it. I'm never going to get through to you."

There was a long, tense silence after that. After what seemed like forever, Atobe finally broke it.

"So... what did you do after that? Instead of tennis, I mean."

"...Went to college. I'm still a student, currently."

"Ah, I see. What major?"

"History."

"Ah." Atobe laughed slightly. "That's so like you, Tezuka."

A pause. "...I didn't see you in any pro tournaments, either."

Atobe laughed again, sardonically this time. "No. I took over my family business straight after I left college."

"...Why?"

Atobe glanced at him, startled slightly. "What?"

"Why did you do that? You had a chance to go pro."

Atobe snorted. "So did you."

"That was different," Tezuka argued.

"Not really. Your future was taken from you. Mine was decided for me the day I was born."

"Nothing is decided, Atobe," Tezuka said frustratedly. "You were good enough. You could've gone pro if you wanted to. You did want to. But you didn't."

"And what's wrong with that?!" Atobe demanded. "I didn't have a chance!"

"Yes you did, Atobe!" Tezuka said angrily. "You did have that chance! You always have! I had that chance once, too, and it was taken from me!"

There was a sudden deafening silence between them.

Tezuka leaned forward, hiding his face. "...It's not that I regret my actions," he said quietly. "I don't. But I just... miss being able to play." He paused. "That match with you, Atobe... that was the first time I've played seriously in years," he explained. "I just wanted to be able to play without limits again. I... wanted to be free." Here he looked up at Atobe. "I don't understand why you wouldn't take that chance if you had it. I'd give anything to be able to go back and have that chance."

Atobe put a hand on Tezuka's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. "I could've, but what was the point?! What was the point if you weren't there?"

Tezuka blinked at him.

Atobe sighed frustratedly. "It's true that I loved the game. I still do. But... Tezuka, even with everything else going on, one of my main motivators, one of my goals, was always you. And if you weren't there for me to reach anymore, then there wasn't any point in going through all that and defying my parents just for a dream that wasn't a dream anymore!!"

Tezuka just blinked again, stunned. "A-Atobe..."

Atobe sighed again. "Oh, screw it," he murmured, and, leaning forward, he kissed Tezuka on the mouth.

If Atobe had thought this had felt good in the dreams he had had about Tezuka, it was nothing compared to the real thing. The kiss started out gently, but then Atobe deepened it, coming back for more, and he was pretty sure he could tell through the fog in his brain that Tezuka was kissing him back. He'd had plenty of experience with kissing before, but none of it was ever quite like this.

They started getting into it. Tezuka was leading just as much as Atobe was now, wrapping his arms around the other's waist as Atobe's fingers danced across his chest. Their bodies melted together as they pressed up against each other. Atobe was quickly undoing the buttons on Tezuka's shirt, and Tezuka's hand had moved to slide under his own t-shirt, and Atobe moaned softly as he fingered the hem of Tezuka's jeans, and--

Knock, knock.

Atobe growled low in his throat, ignoring the disturbance.

Knock, knock, knock. "Housekeeping."

Growling audibly this time, Atobe broke away from Tezuka reluctantly, marching to the door and cracking it open just an inch, not bothering to do anything to fix his appearance. He glared at the housekeeper on the other side of the door. The hispanic woman stared back.

"...Come back later," Atobe ordered.

"Yes."

Atobe shut the door and marched back to the main room. Tezuka was still sitting on the bed, uncharacteristically flushed, shirt unbuttoned and a stunned but exhilarated look with a hint of a smile on his face.

Atobe couldn't help it; he grinned.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said.

-o0o-

They sat next to each other on the bed again, this time in a comfortable silence. Atobe was leaning into Tezuka; the latter didn't seem to mind.

"...So," Atobe murmured.

"So."

Atobe looked up at Tezuka. "I'll be frank with you," he said. "I want you. I think you can tell that by now." Atobe wasn't one for romantic words, and besides, even if he was, he wasn't sure if there even was a word to describe what he was feeling right now.

Tezuka nodded. "And I..."

"And you?"

"I..." He sighed to himself. "I don't know," he answered honestly. He glanced sideways at his companion. "I've never done this before, Atobe. I think there may be something there. Just... give me some time. Please."

Atobe felt another grin forming. "Tezuka, I've waited nine years for you. I think I can wait a little longer at this point." Suddenly, he sat up. "Here," he said, grabbing a notepad and pen from the side table. Scrawling down a number on the note and handing it to Tezuka, he continued. "Here's my phone number. Call me when you've made up your mind."

Tezuka nodded. "...Thank you, Atobe."

Atobe just smiled at him.

Tezuka looked away. "...Fuji and Oshitari still set up, though."

Atobe laughed merrily. "What are you talking about, Tezuka?" he said, grinning. "This was all just another coincidence."

-o0o-

A few weeks later, Atobe was back in Japan, and was once again being dragged out of the office against his will by Oshitari.

He surveyed the sushi place critically. "...Not bad," he commented. "Of course, it doesn't live up to ore-sama's high standards, but it'll do."

"Aw man, is he still doing that?" a voice from behind him complained.

Without turning to look at the speaker, Atobe remarked, "And I see you haven't changed a bit, Shishido."

Atobe craned his head over his shoulder in time to see the rest of the former Hyoutei team entering the shop. He smirked.

For the next few hours, one secluded corner of the shop was home to laughter, threats, betting, much chatting and catching up, and lots of snark. Shishido made several sarcastic remarks at Mukahi, which prompted the latter to attempt to dump his drink on Shishido's head. His former doubles partner Ohtori was the only reason Shishido didn't lunge across the table at Mukahi right there. Oh yes, the Hyoutei regulars were back.

A few hours into the reunion, Atobe's cell phone started vibrating. "Excuse me," he said, holding up a hand as a signal for the others to be quiet for a moment. Atobe looked at his caller ID; he didn't recognize the number. On a whim, he flipped it open. "Hello?"

The others at the table couldn't hear who the person was on the other end, or what he was saying, but Atobe's face brightened instantly. His next words made everything clear, at least for a few people at the table.

"Ah, Tezuka!"

-OWARI-