Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Konomi Takeshi does. I'm merely playing with them for the moment.
A/N: Ever since the 1st of December, I have been posting one fic/update a day over at my LJ, lumelle. These updates have been in series of five fics sharing a theme.
The third series of five is about the five senses. This one centres around sight.
Imperfection
Perfect tennis, they said. No flaws at all, they said. Returns every shot, they said.
Atobe called bullshit on this. Nobody's tennis was entirely perfect, however much of a "Bible" they fancied themselves. There was simply a limit to everyone's capabilities that was impossible to surpass however much you tried. Perhaps such perfection seemed indeed complete to others, but Atobe saw enough to know there were flaws even in the most intricate pattern of perfection.
It was his specialty, wasn't it, seeing. He saw the perfection, oh yes, saw all those returned shots and all that lovely footwork and how there indeed were no wasted movements whatsoever. However, he also saw more than that; he saw the flaws that escaped others, the tiny fibres of imperfection that he was sure escaped even Bible himself. But then, he hadn't expected anything else. Everyone had their imperfections, their blind spots. You just had to see beyond the mask of perfection.
Nobody saw deeper than Atobe.
It was... fascinating, almost. In most people, the flaws were rather easy to spot; when it came to Shiraishi, even he had some trouble seeing them. The appearance of perfection was admirable – but that was all it was, an appearance. Certainly, there was some truth to it, but it was nowhere near as flawless as the Oosakan would have liked others to believe.
Of course, as often happened, the fascination became interest. After seeing that one match between Fuji and the Shitenhouji captain, he wanted to see more. He wasn't satisfied with just spotting some blind spots where others believed Shiraishi had none; he wanted to see more, to recognize flaws in what was supposed to be perfect – and not only in tennis, either. If even Atobe himself had to admit his lack of perfection, he certainly wasn't going to grant anyone else that status.
Others might have called it stalking. To Atobe, it was merely the barest of investigations. After all, Shiraishi wasn't exactly near enough for him to see the other captain on a regular basis, himself; obviously he needed some other way of observation. Soon enough he knew Shiraishi's address, his family background and academical records. Connections were truly a wonderful thing, especially ones who followed orders and asked few questions.
To his displeasure, this investigation brought up less of interest than he had hoped. While Shiraishi wasn't picture perfect in everything, he was certainly a good student at least, responsible and trustworthy, with good enough grades and everything. He unearthed no dark secrets or skeletons in the closet, no hidden depths to a perfectly ordinary, even slightly admirable young man. It was almost boring in its apparent perfection – yet he remained convinced it was merely apparent indeed.
It was almost inevitable that sooner or later, he would make a personal appearance. After all, there was only so far he could let his associates prod at the issue without raising suspicion in someone's mind sooner or later. And besides, as had obviously been proven, not even the most inquisitive hired help could truly compare to the power of his own eyes when it came to detecting flaws.
He appeared without warning, why would he have given a warning in any case, it wasn't like he was going for a formal visit or anything, he merely wanted to observe. Shiraishi didn't seem startled at all as he appeared watching their team practice one day, merely walking closer.
"Atobe of Hyoutei, right?" he asked, and Atobe found himself almost cringing at the Oosakan drawl that was so very familiar from Oshitari's tones. "What're you doing so far from home?"
"Perhaps I'm just lost on my way to school," Atobe replied calmly, perfect refined Tokyo-ben for him, it was what he'd been carefully taught since childhood after all as he lacked the help of environment to guide his Japanese. "Perhaps I'm just interested in something here."
"Well, you're not stealing our super rookie," chuckled the captain, looking over to where his wild redhead was practically bouncing around the court. Atobe found himself wondering if all redheads truly were that excitable. Mukahi never seemed to sit still. "We like him too much to let him go."
"I've no interest in him." He had enough brats in his team as it was, and besides he was soon leaving it all in Hiyoshi's hands anyway. And Hiyoshi was the worst brat of them all.
"Then you've got me stumped, really." Shiraishi shook his head. "I hope you don't want to hog both Oshitaris?"
"One is more than enough." Atobe smirked dryly. Indeed, he had no desire for any more individuals of that family around him, tensai or not... "Maybe I'm here for you."
"Me?" Shiraishi seemed... surprised. Well. That was at least some form of reaction. "I'm a rather boring goal for someone coming all the way from Tokyo."
"Don't try to tell me what I consider boring or not." Atobe raised his eyebrows, looking sharply at the other captain. "I am perfectly capable of judging the value of my own interests."
"Your... interests?" Shiraishi hid it well, the facade was almost perfect, but there was no fooling Atobe's eyes. He was startled by Atobe's words... almost, well, flustered.
"Is that so impossible to believe?" Atobe chuckled. "That someone might be interested in you?"
It was even clearer this time, the way Shiraishi was taken aback by his words – though not necessarily in a bad way. Atobe couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction. Finally, a proper crack in that perfection.
He was eager to see more. And if that meant going further... he was game.
His fascination certainly didn't fade as his intrigue was finally satisfied.