A/N: Hey guys! So it was 11:40 pm when ore-sama started this fic, and 12:36 am when I finished. Wow, ore-sama is so awesome. Loljk. I was just really bored in bed, and have problems sleeping. Hopefully won't last long.
WARNING/S: Ate 2 Nutella sandwiches before lying in bed. Also, I recently listened to Oshitari Yuushi's Mebachiko. 5 times. Go figure. Bad words. Turn back now if you're too holy to even read bad words. Siriusly, though, bad words in here. A ton of them. The OOC-ness of Hyoutei will be due to my evil schemes. No whining and complaining.
DISCLAIMER: Konomi Takeshi is responsible for planting ideas like these in my head. Why? Because he invented Prince of Tennis. The only thing I own here is the flow of things, maybe Takahisa and the Shanghai branch manager. Everything else is not mine. I want Oshitari Yuushi to be mine, though!
PMS
By ThroughTheMonsoon
"Ore-sama said that ore-sama does not want to!"
"But, Keigo-bochama, you have to attend this meeting! Your father is discussing the details with the Shanghai branch manager right now!"
"If ore-sama says he does not want to, then ore-sama does not want to!"
"Keigo-bochama," Takahisa, his father's butler, reached for his arm. "You must-"
An ear-splitting shriek stopped the Atobe mansionho-er, household.
"It's one of those days again," muttered one of the maids.
"DON'T TOUCH ME, INSOLENT PEASANT!"
Atobe Keigo dusted his arm as if the butler just contaminated him with a most disgusting disease.
"Kabaji!" Here came another shriek. "You know what to do!"
That was what happened before the young heir stomped brutally upstairs into his room, as if flamenco dancing lessened his anger. Tango, perhaps?
As the door to his room slammed shut, Kabaji murmured an "usu" and followed the emergency maneuvers.
The second year reached for one of those elegant envelopes ("Ooh, it's scented, too!") and handed it to Takahisa. Along with this wedding invitation-like letter came a small note from Kabaji.
Takahisa read the note quietly.
Sorry about that. It's one of those days again.
"That's quite alright, Kabaji. I've had 8 years of him with those tantrums… Although this one's a bit worse, isn't it?" The butler sighed.
Just then, the familiar limousine honking brought both attentions to the entrance hall.
"Time for school, I guess," Takahisa shrugged as he made to go up to his Young Master Keigo's room.
Kabaji took both their school bags and walked to the entrance hall. Just as Takahisa's hand reached for Keigo's doorknob, the narcissist himself slammed the door open, turning the poor butler's human figure into a giant pancake.
Atobe catwalked to the limousine, ignoring every living presence he met along the way. Kabaji merely followed behind, since it was a rule to always let Atobe go first.
The second year got into the car last and closed the door, careful not to get on Atobe's nerves.
A.K.A. touch him.
The driver noticed this restriction of actions, and had a one-look conversation with the menacing kouhai.
One of those days again? Kabaji immediately understood that look from the rear-view mirror.
He glanced a reply. Usu.
They silently drove to Hyoutei Gakuen.
"I'm gonna have lunch at your table today."
"Ore-sama did not agree to that."
"Yes you did! You told me and the rest of the team yesterday to 'have lunch at your table tomorrow'!"
"Ore-sama never said that!"
"We do it everyday! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Ore-sama is the law! Whatever ore-sama says will be obeyed!"
"Doushita, Shishido?" Oshitari Yuushi passed with Gakuto Mukahi and Otori Choutarou at the scene which pretty much intrigued the whole cafeteria.
"Atobe's being a bitch, he won't even let me sit at our table! Reason with him!" Shishido normally didn't ask this of Oshitari, but it was an emergency.
Because it concerned lunch.
The blue-haired student looked at Atobe. "Doushita, Atobe?"
Great. So all he could ask now was what was wrong.
"Ore-sama does not want any of you around! Go away!"
"But, Atobe, you told me yesterday we were going to discuss team matters at lunch. Which is now."
"Ore-sama does not care! Ore-sama needs space. Go away!"
Soon, the whole team gathered around the table. Jirou, Hiyoshi, and Taki didn't understand the flow of things right away.
Gakuto frowned. "You're even bitchier than when you didn't get your Sunday facial."
"You're even bitchier than when you didn't get to buy that sweater from Armani that you wanted," Taki said.
"You're even bitchier than Gakuto!"
"Shishido-san, that's not helping us at the moment," Otori told his doubles partner.
Shishido grumbled, "It's true, though…"
"What gives, Atobe?" Gakuto tapped his foot impatiently, his lunch tray getting heavier by the minute.
"Go away, all of you! Ore-sama wants to be alone!"
"What's wrong, Atobe?" Jirou pouted.
Atobe plugged his ears with his fingers. "Lalalalalalalalalalalalala-"
"Atobe Keigo!" Hiyoshi boomed with authority.
The Hyoutei tennis team looked at him like he just boomed Atobe's name with authority.
Oh, wait.
He just did.
"Always wanted to do that," mumbled the second year.
The young heir furrowed his brow (This isn't good, ore-sama will get wrinkles!") and snapped his fingers.
"Kabaji! Take these impertinent little peasants to a distant table! Keep them away from ore-sama!" Atobe shrieked once again.
"Usu." What a big, surprising answer.
Kabaji took the rest of the team to the distant side of the cafeteria and seated them all there.
"What the fuck is going on?" Shishido complained. "Atobe is such a goddamn bitch, I'm gonna bash him on the head with the nearest fire extinguisher."
"That's probably the one and only thing I can agree with with anything you've ever said, Shishido," nodded Gakuto.
Kabaji bowed in apology and left a folded-up note on their table. He left immediately to go back to Atobe's assistance.
Oshitari picked it up, and read it aloud.
Dear teammates,
In Atobe-san's behalf, I am asking for forgiveness for his awful behavior. You see, he is in this state right now due to adolescence. They've experienced long-term tantrums of his before at his mansion, but I, for one, think this is worse. At this age, his hormones are probably in most abundance in his blood than ever. Also, due to the fact that he inherited his mother's pickiness and maybe even part of her womanhood, and also relying on the truth that we all have some women hormones in our anatomies, he is undergoing such an intense process. He has, in actuality and DNA researches, more women hormones in his body than most males, to which none of us are at fault. But since this is so, he is currently in a process which girls may call pre-menstrual syndrome. I know you all know that our girl classmates have these tendencies to be really unreasonable and noisy and just plain…how does Shishido-san put this…"bitchy"…every month or so. Please think of it in this perspective when you look at Atobe-san's case. I hope you all understand and accept this inexplicable oddity of our captain.
With much regard,
Kabaji
Oshitari blinked. "Whoa."
Gakuto and Shishido wiped blood off their noses with the back of their sleeves.
"Can you please translate that into simple, comprehensible Japanese?" Gakuto pleaded.
Jirou, who, just a moment ago, was jumping up and down on his seat, now snored into the table.
Choutarou had tears in his eyes and was mumbling, "Beautiful. Just beautiful."
Taki, meanwhile, blinked confusedly and ate his lunch without a single word.
Oshitari put the letter down. "Well, Kabaji explained everything well and – whoa! Still not over it! – and… Well… Now we know why Atobe's so… Bitchy." Stil bewildered, he shook his head and dug into his lunch.
"'Explained everything well' doesn't cover it, Yuushi," the redhead grumbled as he desperately tried to get the blood tracks off his face. Oshitari grabbed his jaw and wiped the blood tracks for him with a wet tissue.
"Tissues," groaned Shishido. "Someone get me tissues!"
Choutarou easily complied, copying his senpai Oshitari's actions and wiping the blood off Shishido for him.
"Gekkokujyou," muttered Hiyoshi.
"Never again… Never again will I underestimate a person's silence," Taki concluded.
"Damn right," Shishido agreed, blood still trickling from his nose.
END.