Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis nor any of its lovable characters. If I did, I'd be spending my time swimming in royalties :P
A lot of people don't know this but I'm the woman behind Kabaji. Literally.
His 6 foot build easily covers my small body; most people fail to see me since I find myself always trailing right behind him like an obedient puppy. But I could care any less. I could exist as his shadow and I would be content as long as the sun enabled me to exist beside him. All that mattered was that I was with him finally.
There are a lot of things people don't know about my Moo-chan: and the fact that I call him Moo-chan is one of them. He doesn't even know I christened him with such a ridiculously adorable nickname. In front of the world, everyone knew I called him Kabaji senpai. But when school is over and night falls, I satisfy myself with composing sweet nothings for him on my phone, saving them in my Drafts folder since I never had the guts to actually send them.
One thing that people don't know about him is that he can be patient, strong-willed, focused and extremely kind. Imagine his big hands carefully weaving wood together through a narrow neck of a bottle to build a miniature ship; a monumental task that could take weeks and requires nothing more than your absolute attention. Lesser men would have given up but not my Moo-chan—it's his freaking hobby.
People may think that he's a monster for his uncanny talent for mimicry, but many don't know that his technique stems not only from his simplemindedness. It takes focus, determination and a strong will to pull it off
Kantou regionals.
Munehiro Kabaji had just finished his game with Takashi Kawamura; it was declared a "no game" much to everyone's dismay and worry. The match was definitely one to remember, not just because of the Hadokyu showdown but also since it was the first time that both participants gave up and were promptly whisked away to the nearest hospital due to the injuries that they suffered during the match.
Breaking the relative peace and quiet was the sound of rapid footfalls echoing in the hallway, coming closer and closer to the room where one Kabaji Munehiro was occupying, his hand injury being tended to by a physician.
The door slid open. Standing just outside with an instrument case slung over her shoulder in her worn black jeans, dirty brown canvas shoes and tank top and jacket was that girl, with her windswept long hair, half-open mouth and wild, panicked eyes. He wondered why she wasn't in her school uniform like the others who attended the match. She was panting from exertion, beads of sweat forming on her temple as her gaze went from him to the doctor and back again.
"Sensei, is Kabaji-senpai gonna be okay?"
"His bones are fine. No permanent damage to the muscle but his arm needs rest." The doctor stood and excused himself since he had already tended to Kabaji and had just finished reprimanding him for his recklessness.
She bowed to the doctor but when the door closed and silence reigned, she realized that she was alone with him. The room shrank around him, his stature and seemingly occupying every inch of it. Her heart pounded as all her senses were assaulted by his mere presence. Kabaji watched her: her wire glasses almost hid almond eyes the color of chestnut directed at the floor while she shyly brushed an imaginary wisp of ebony hair behind her ear. Her cheeks were suddenly tinted with the gentlest pink, accented by the mocha color of her skin.
He wasn't surprised that she came. He knew she would since she had always been there. Unknown to her, he had been watching. Observing since day one. At first, he had assumed that she was after Atobe just like other girls; but he quickly noticed that she was still there even when the King was gone. He was simpleminded yes, but he wasn't stupid. The only problem was he had no experience with this sort of thing: no woman, save for his sister and mother, had shown the least bit interest in him. He didn't know what to say, so he did the next best thing: he let her follow him, introducing himself to her bit by bit. He let her gather data on him—even that was a first. The data man of Seigaku never bothered with him: his Copy Technique renders all tennis data useless.
Because of Atobe, he finally was able to confirm her interest in him. And that made him feel a bit happy.
Kabaji, who only had Atobe and tennis, felt his world grow a bit.
Few people know that Moo-chan loves pizza and beef rice. I tried learning how to prepare these two dishes despite my innate non-existing talent in cooking, all for the sake of presenting him with a lunch box that I know he will enjoy. Unfortunately, that would probably tag me as a psycho and might force Atobe-san to file a restraining order against me.
That day, when Atobe-san heartlessly ripped my journal from my bare hands and exposed the secrets it held to all the regulars, he stared at me with those intense, soulful eyes and said nothing. He gave nothing to indicate that he accepted me—but he didn't scorn me either. For the entire time, he just stared at me, seeing me for the first time I guess. I could remember nothing else except for the pounding in my ears and the sensation I felt while my whole body was on fire. On a lesser note, Atobe-san never spoke to me afterwards. He never even looked my way.
But him—oh him—he saw me. I knew he followed my movements with his gaze.
"There she is again." Gakuto hid his smirk behind his glass as they saw the only girl blind enough to go and stalk the 'Copy Monster' enter the cafeteria with her lunch box. "Hey Kabaji, your psycho girlfriend is here."
"She's a freshman, a transfer student from another country. I'm willing to bet her country has a very different standard when it comes to attractive men." Oshitari took a sip from his tea cup.
Chotarou, on the other hand, was ecstatic. "Come on, don't be mean. They look cute together if you think about it. Ne, Kabaji-kun, I never knew you had it in you!" he patted the massive 2nd year playfully on the shoulder. "I'm so happy for you—are you going to go out with her?"
Atobe looked up casually to check Kabaji's reaction when he noticed that his friend was staring at an actual something—the freshman.
He couldn't help but raise his brow as an alien feeling crept in his chest.
The freshman had settled herself on one of the corner tables. She glanced up and sported an adorable blush, seeing that Kabaji was staring at her with nary a reaction on his face. When she looked up, a group of seniors were sneering at her as they dumped their plates on the table.
"Move it—this table is ours."
She looked up at them coolly, fighting the very primal urge to grab their hair and shave them using the butter knife.
"What, are you going to fight back against your senpais, freshman?"
One of them dumped a glass of water in her bento box; the egg, umeboshi, rice and nori swam around, forming a disgusting muck that looked unfit for consumption. At the Hyoutei Regulars table, one could her Gakuto chanting 'bitch fight' in the background.
Fisting her hands, the foreign freshman stood abruptly, looking like she was about to throw down some holy punishment on them. But instead, she took her box and sauntered near the three.
"Why no, senpai-tachi. Heaven help me if I stooped down your level." She flipped her hair and walked out with her back straight and chin held high; she was walking out of there with her dignity intact or die trying.
"That was close." Choutarou sighed. Atobe was about to dismiss the entire incident when Kabaji suddenly stood.
Even Atobe could not find the right words to form the burning question at the tip of his tongue: what was Kabaji doing?
Taking his plate and utensils with him, he went out of the cafeteria and left his table with his comrades' jaws on the floor, mouth agape and in disbelief.
Jiro suddenly snorted awake and looked around, then yawning while stretching his arms. "What'd I miss?"
The freshman dumped the contents of her bento in the trash and sat on a nearby bench, looking mournfully at the empty Hello Kitty lunch box.
"Now what?" she murmured, staring at the box, half hoping that food will materialize if she paid attention to it long enough despite her brain telling her to quit being an idiot.
She had enough coins to buy a soda but she couldn't possibly afford the freaking French food at the cafeteria. Unwilling to borrow money and incur any debt, she opted to just get through the day and then just eat at her apartment—not as if she had never done it before but she knew it was going to be hard. Japanese language was the next class after all and she absolutely sucked at Kanji.
The decision had steeled in her mind when a sudden shadow covered her. Blinking, she looked up and had the breath knocked right out of her as her eyes met his innocent ones.
Like a fish suddenly drowning in water, her mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say while her brain grasped at straws. She knew he must think that she was mentally unfit—she did the very same thing during that time in the hospital, leaving without saying word. This time though, she'll do it right. What was the best way to break the ice? Smile? Flip her hair while batting her eyelashes and crossing her legs in hopes of him seeing a bit of leg action? Will she drop him a witty one liner? Yeah, she'll do that.
"H-Hi." She lamely told him, smiling helplessly.
Kabaji just stared—and held out the plate full of food. The freshman felt her mouth water and her stomach churn while her sight became blurry as something clenched at her heart. He definitely saw her shame earlier, and it didn't help that his kindness touched her—the tears threatened to fall.
"Y-You don't want it?" she asked, almost choking on her question as Kabaji sat beside her and placed the plate on her lap.
"I don't like French food." Came the rumbling response, a baritone that tickled her bones and made her melt on the inside.
"I know. You like pizza and beef rice, right?" she smiled up at him but froze and blushed as she realized three things all at once: he spoke to her for the very first time, they were closer to each other than they had ever been and that she just nailed her own coffin shut by sounding just like stalker psycho.
She looked away and quietly ate, failing to see Kabaji's face slowly sport a delicate blush of its own.
In the distance, one Keigo Atobe watched them, the shadows of the trees forming the perfect camouflage for him; his arms crossed against his chest casually. Yet his eyes were far from casual: they were cold, piercing and calculating as they watched their chestnut-eyed prey.
A/N:
Reviews are very welcome! Thanks to Freyjacartagena and Walakongkwenta for inspiring me to finally write POT fics hehe.
I is lab Kabaji :3