Fairy Moon, a prince of tennis fanfic

Title: Fairy Moon

Rated: Anywhere below M

Word Count: 4,143 words

AN: This is a gift of appreciation to 'Mia' at princeoftennisscenarios on Tumblr for spending time fulfilling so many scenario requests.

The waning moon threw light across his balcony, which split at the rafters, then the window panes, before spilling silently into his study where the curtain was slightly parted.

It had been a long day.

Papers lay strewn across his mahogany table, and yet it looked an orderly mess before the heir of the Atobe Conglomerate. Tapping in the final period on his electronic tax report with a sense of relief, he spared a quick glance to the antique wall clock which adorned the wooden wall—it was a panel of great oak, twisting artistically up the wall and retaining its rough texture.

A tiny slip of nature in this royal domain.

Atobe stood from his chair and stretched limberly, eyeing the Yorkshire pudding which Kabaji had sent up a little while ago, before dismissing it as calories he could not afford to intake at this time of night. Some champagne, however…

He closed the doors of his study behind him, and headed towards the kitchen.

Down the corridor and a flight of stairs, Atobe suddenly drew to a halt. He blinked as he saw what looked like a vaguely human shaped shadow flicker and warp, before disappearing entirely behind a pillar in the main foyer, just as he stepped onto the landing a floor above.

He had already dismissed all his staff for the night.

Half an hour ago, he'd asked Michael to send Kabaji home.

There should be no one left in this area of the Atobe estate but himself.

Quietly, yet at the same carefree pace, he continued to stride across the landing, noting in his mind that all things considered, he should have seen this coming. After all, his father had recently acquired what was known as the largest black diamond in the entire world: the Black Star. Having showcased it at Japan's Pandora Gala earlier in the day, it was now safely ensconced in the Atobe vaults; or rather, it should have been—there was a sudden change of plans after a security scare after the Gala had ended. One of the men who had been hired to transport the Black Star had been found stripped and unconscious in the back of a police car, and no one knew how he had gotten there—including himself.

Instead, the Black Star now rested in Atobe's bedroom—also known as one of the most secure places in the world. The Atobe family's security system was world class, Oshitari had assured him, and Atobe trusted in the design which his good friend had had a hand in making.

Not even a cat could slip in unnoticed by the heat sensing system on the windows or the laser patterns across every entry, or the motion sensors which had been added as an afterthought and padded every doorway.

Which was why this was all very curious in Atobe's mind. Who could have evaded all their security measures? A great mind like his own would not be deceived by wildly imagined foes even in fatigue, no; his insight told him otherwise.

There is definitely an unannounced guest in my house.

Stopping at the middle of the landing, Atobe turned on the balls of his feet and made a great show of yawning—"Maybe Ore-sama can do without that champagne after all…"

There was only one way to his bedroom.

The Black Star glinted majestically in its glass case, pushed almost carelessly at the side of his bed. Atobe grinned, foregoing his shirt and changing into silk pyjama pants. Gripping the jewel in hand, he slipped under the covers and drew his blankets up to just below his chest—"Off," he commanded, and the lights obeyed automatically. The full moon did not, and cast a dull glow into his room—both doors to the balcony was open, and a light breeze blew his ceiling length curtains into a soft swaying, lulling pattern against the double glass doors, and tousled gently through his brown hair.

He turned on his side, one hand tracing the handgun under his pillow, and the other still clutching the Black Star under the covers. Ice blue eyes closed, calculating, and he waited.

About half an hour later, he heard it. A soft rustling at his doorway as the laser system was negated. A little beep as the motion sensors were deactivated.

A skilled thief indeed.

And it could only be one person. Earlier in the week, his father had received an advance notice sent by someone calling themselves 'The Phantom Thief', declaring that possession of the Black Star would soon change hands and challenging the Atobe Conglomerate to a showdown; it had been signed with a funny little squiggle might have resembled a bunny rabbit if you looked at it from a certain angle, or the card suit of Spades from another.

He counted

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

Four seconds to navigate his room to his side—

A shallow dip in his bed—

The brush of a hand across his blanketed torso—

Atobe's eyes flashed open, and his teeth was bared in a snarl as he grabbed for the questing appendage and wrenched down—

"Gotcha!"

A sharp gasp, and the figure tumbled fully onto the bed, bracing himself with one hand and falling into a form which shocked Atobe as he recognised it—that was a capoeira stance, was it not?!

But then, the blankets on the bed caught the figure's ankle and the shadow sprawled—in the same instant, Atobe used the figure's own momentum and rolled on top—pinning his legs carefully as the figure let out a cry and Atobe snarled in victory—he gripped the black mask across the thief's face and pulled—

Hold on.

"You… are a woman?!"

Sharply glinting eyes stared viciously up at him, black hair tumbling out of the mask with the motion of a startled crow's cascading feathers. A young girl, perhaps around his age. She looked like how Atobe would imagine fairies, if he believed in such tales—small in stature and otherworldly in the way she'd suddenly appeared in his life. Or perhaps a leprechaun, for her startling green eyes.

At his frozen countenance, slowly, she began to grin. He couldn't speak, and she threw back her head, laughed—her entire being coming alive with mirth and a kind of unspeakable joy. Atobe's insight had never uncovered a creature like this before. His voice caught.

"Oh, your face!" she snorted, unable to stop her loud cackles.

And Atobe just stared some more, unable to comprehend what had just happened in his life.

"Ore-sama knows that his appearance is impeccable. You will not attempt to derail this conversation. Ore-sama demands to know what you are doing here." Inwardly Atobe nodded to himself, pulling together his scattered thoughts rather admirably. The fact that her appearance had not meshed with his imagination of this sly thief had rattled him considerably.

"Oh dear, surely the great Atobe Keigo knows what I'm here for?"

"Oh…?" Slowly, the corners of his mouth curved up in a smirk. He trailed his eyes up and down her entangled figure, suddenly more aware of their position. "So you know who I am. Yet, my lady, I do not yet know your name. Ore-sama would very much like to know the name of the flower who adorns his bed…"

She was silent for a moment. Had she finally realised she'd stepped into a lion's den…?

"You'll find out my name in due time," she said eventually. "Although, a man with such generous values instilled in him must know that it is rude to delay a lady when she wishes to part with your company?"

Atobe sighed dramatically at the way she'd brushed him off—but he would not repeat the same mistake he'd made with Tachibana's sister—it had been an immature moment with gestured at his youth at the time. Now, a full year older, he was a much more accomplished gentleman. In his mind, at least. Yet he made no move to get up, or release his falsely loose grip on her slim wrists. "If you want Ore-sama's Black Star, there is only one way."

"Mm, I'm sure I can think of a few more, but please do elaborate."

Atobe lowered his head and gently whispered in her ear. Some strands of his perfectly coiffed hair tickled her neck, and she squirmed under him, to his growing delight. What an interesting catch.

"Oh but Kei-kun, what would your mother say? Married to a criminal—a dastardly, dashing thief such as myself could not possibly be worthy—"

Atobe broke out in boisterous laughter—

"—of a man whose wings are clipped and lives in a gilded cage, his entire life looking from a perch up high, without choice or…"

As the girl pantomimed a dramatic death scene after pausing from her description of Atobe's own fictional, completely absurd "death of freedom", forgoing words for silent drama, he continued to observe her in both shock and amusement.

"Are you related to a boy named Jirou, by any chance?"

"…No."

That excited way of talking, puppy-like demeanour and knowledge of his security system, and the ability to bypass it, or completely nullify its threat…

"…You must be the thief cousin Jirou was telling us about." Atobe fondly recalled the way Jirou had told anyone and everyone who would listen that his cousin was coming for a visit from Australia. Though, Atobe hadn't taken him quite seriously when he'd said she was a professional thief and subsequently asked the entire Hyoutei tennis club to keep it a secret. Atobe had zoned out the rest of his speech about her in favour of ordering the club members back to practicing drills.

"As Ore-sama recalls, the Phantom Thief was first active in Melbourne, Australia— Ore-sama supposes that fits too. This little venture of yours seems quite unplanned compared to your previous heists. You see, after receiving your notice, father handed the little issue over to me to deal with—he's quite a busy man after all." His eyes never left hers as he continued firmly, "It was quite bothersome to deal with, negotiating with foreign government for information, but, well, it is a skill one should hone, regardless." He felt her breathing fan over his face, accelerating with her heartbeat. He continued, voice deepening to a rich, patented Atobe purr, "And you know what they told me, neko-chan?"

"…I…err… just came to sight see. Yes. Umm…"

Atobe continued as if she hadn't spoke, "They said she was quite the expert of disguise—able to change identities perfectly in less time than it takes for a smoke bomb to clear. Ore-sama believes you originally planned to slip in as one of my security entourage, n~a? However, you didn't plan on the police finding the man you were impersonating so soon, ruining your plans of escaping with your prize before it reached my humble abode. Hence, this crude heist— Ore-sama must say, does not impressive me. Did you not wonder why Ore-sama did not station any guards in my home? There is no one for you to impersonate here… Ore-sama alone is enough to stop any glorified burglars." He ignored her snort too. "Am I not correct? But what's even more interesting is something else they told me."

Her eyes widened, she swallowed minutely and tested his grip in her wrists, causing him to press down with his body weight. There was something intensely satisfying about holding someone down helpless with your own power.

"Apparently," he said softly, cocky and self-assured expression showing on his face as he openly leered down at her, "they're offering quite a large bounty for her capture. Now isn't that interesting, a~n?"

"Yes, interesting. I think I'll go now."

"Ore-sama thinks not."

"Well…"

And very suddenly, Atobe felt something very warm and soft pressed against his lips. "Mmph?!" His eyes boggled in shock—in that same motion, the thief twisted under him like a cat, flipping him onto his back with some well-placed moves—did she know judo as well?!—and before he could get over the audacity of her action, her figure was illuminated against the backdrop of a full moon which seemed to highlight the strange, otherness of this night.

Standing on the banister of the balcony with unwavering balance, she pulled her mask back over her face—when did she get that?—and using her other hand, she waved at him, something black glinting in the palm of her hand—and when did she get that?!

He snatched up the tranquilizer gun he had prepared under his pillow—pointed and fired with unerring accuracy—

TOOT!

"The hell?!" Atobe swore. Instead of the heavily drugged dart which should have fired, a cheerful bunch of daisies exploded out the end of the barrel, along with a loud honk which startled him into dropping the gun.

"When did you?!" He'd only acquired the gun this morning! He'd underestimated her, he realised with a peculiar burn in his chest. Was that even her real face he saw?! Or another mask?!

Atobe was halfway through the balcony doors, scarlet now colouring his face—it was fury, he told himself—at her uncensored laughter, when he caught a final glimpse of a Cheshire grin—and to his shock, she let herself fall backwards off the ledge—this was the fourth floor!

He leaped to the balcony edge and leaned over, staring hard into the darkness—and to his complete and utter shock,

She was gone.

When Atobe arrived at school on Wednesday, everything was still in uproar. Everyone had heard about theft after that one nosy reporter snuck onto the Atobe estate in search of news; two gossipy butlers provided just that on Sunday morning.

Of course, Atobe had questioned Jirou right away, but to his shock and endless confusion, Jirou said that his cousin's plane only landed today. There had been no evidence left behind that night, and their surveillance cameras had been similarly disabled beforehand expertly. The police found nothing, but promised to put all their efforts into searching. Atobe doubted they would find anything.

His father had been furious. Still was.

Atobe turned his attention back to the front of the class as Sakaki-sensei entered, dressed immaculately as always. He levelled his gaze at Shishido, who immediately returned to his seat, satisfied with how much he and the other regulars had riled up Atobe with their teasing all through the latter half of morning practice. Listening to Wagner this morning had done little to improve his mood.

"Everyone, we have a new student with us today. She will be joining you as your new classmate this year. Please come in."

"Hey everyone! I'm Mia V. Kuroba, nice to meet you all. I grew up in Aussie so… just Mia's fine. I'm—"

"Cousin!" An ecstatic squeal from the back of the class announced Jirou's awakening from his morning nap.

"I'm Jirou's cousin, and… now I forgot what else I was going to say…" The class chuckled, and Jirou pushed Oshitari absentmindedly off to the side to make room for her at his own desk. Oshitari complied with a long-suffering sigh (and an inward grin at the favourable seating arrangements—he could feel the daggers Atobe was staring at her).

Come lunch, Jirou invited her over to sit with all the regulars—she took a seat at the opposite end of the table to his royal highness, who was silently nurturing a glass of golden liquid—champagne, most likely. It was a strange atmosphere. Why wasn't Atobe speaking? Was he really that upset? Should someone start the Hyoutei chant?

Jirou began insisting that his cousin speak with Atobe privately. Unlike the others, Jirou had not teased him, Atobe recalled, but it was clear in those warm brown eyes how worried he had been for his captain after the theft and subsequent media storm, as well as his father's anger. Atobe's own disappointment in himself at allowing it to happen. But Jirou also recognised those icy flames in his captain's eyes which promised retribution—he was down but not out, as was fitting for the man who stood at the very top of Hyoutei's social hierarchy, and there would be Hell to pay.

Jirou thought that his dearly loved cousin would be the ideal person to help. After all, who better to catch a phantom thief than someone who was in the same trade?

So why was his cousin so fervently protesting under her breath and dodging his carefully aimed sad puppy eyes?

Atobe suddenly stood. The entire school cafeteria, which had been buzzing at a dull, nervous monotone, fell silent. Slowly, he walked over to the new girl's side and pinned her with a chilling gaze. For a few moments he simply stared, before finally, he opened his mouth and everyone waited on bated breath to hear what the King of Hyoutei was about to say—

"Holy shit Atobe!"

All eyes turned to the person who dared interrupt royalty. Except Atobe himself, who continued to gaze unblinkingly at the girl who was now shrinking back into her seat like a deflating pool tube.

"What is it, Mukahi?" said Choutarou worriedly. His friend was quite bad at reading situations sometimes.

"What's that in your fancy ass drink?!"

All eyes turned to the end of the table which Atobe had vacated moments earlier. Atobe turned to glare at Mukahi.

Stopped.

There, sitting in the middle of his Krug Brut Vintage 1988, was a sparkling polished black rock.

The Black Star. Largest black diamond in the world, and property of the Atobe family up until four days prior.

"No WAY!"

The cafeteria exploded into chaos as students swarmed over to get a closer look, yet Atobe only had eyes for the girl who was now sitting quite satisfied upright in her seat, all semblances of slouching gone. She had bright green eyes and long raven hair which pooled at her shoulders as she moved before escaping to frame her lower back. She looked like how Atobe would imagine fairies, if he believed in such tales—small in stature and otherworldly in the way she'd suddenly appeared in his life.

Turning away from her, he walked grandly back over to his seat, and a hush fell over the crowd which halted at a click of his fingers. Raising the entire glass to the light, he inspected the innocently sitting jewel that now occupied his glass with great showmanship; the light streaming in from the cafeteria's ceiling windows highlighting his athletic figure. The scent of the champagne wafted over to him, and upon closer inspection, he dimly recognised that his champagne was no longer the same brand which he had ordered Michael to acquire from France. What was it… ah, of course. Armand de Brignac Rose. The Ace of Spades, Rose.

A slow grin appeared on his face, and at the same time, to his left, right, front and back, chants of:

Hyoutei!

Atobe!

Roared throughout the building, escalating until it was deafening. Their King was back.

"Ore-sama no bigi ni, yoi na!"

Atobe!

And in the middle of it all, Atobe caught the eyes of that little devil sitting casually in her seat with an arm over Jirou's shoulders, following the chant easily and casually.

As the crowd gradually moved outside into the grounds, still chanting and rejoicing in the lovely light of spring, Atobe moved to her side once more. With a flick of his hand, Kabaji too retired outside, leaving him with a company of one.

"Evil deeds do not prosper, neko-chan."

"You're a fan of Homer, Atobe-san? Well, I have a quote for you too. Do thou restrain the haughty spirit in thy breast, for better far is gentle courtesy."

The chants of Hyoutei continued in the distance.

Atobe barely held in an undignified snort, for that would be beneath someone of his stature. Holding the Black Star between forefinger and thumb, he leaned against the table, trapping her exit, and her bare legs shifted against his pants at this invasion of personal space. Perhaps she was recalling memories of another night…

"...like that star of the waning summer who beyond all stars rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance, a~n?" Atobe murmured, holding up the jewel to catch the light, and her gaze, at it hovered in the space between them. Once more, he directed his electric blue gaze at her, "You are a liar, neko-chan."

"I didn't lie!" She gasped, gazed off into the distance theatrically. "I just created fiction with my mouth!"

Of all the lines to quote. This time, Atobe was unable to hold in a hearty laugh, tossing his head back in delight. "And empty words are evil, for if fifty bands of men surrounded us and every sword sang for your blood… Ore-sama would bet my entire fortune you could make off still with their cows and sheep."

"You wound me," she replied grinning in a way which contrasted her words. "I am no thief. And I have no need for cows or sheep. I am quite the coward too, Atobe-san, I'm afraid you wouldn't find me in such a situation."

"No… you're right."

She watched him with her head cocked to the side, emphasizing her curious expression while her hand came up to randomly pick a piece of lint off the chest of his blazer. Once more, Atobe was struck with a sense of déjà vu at the feeling of her hand lightly brushing against the fabric. "Homer doesn't quite suit you." He touched the side of her face with two fingers, tracing the contours of her face to her chin, which he promptly tilted upwards. She let him, not a single word escaping her lips. He had not noticed the beauty mark above her right eye in the dark. "Ore-sama is not sure what you are… but he intends to find out."

"Hmm…" she said softly, and her leprechaun green eyes glittered up at him in acceptance of this challenge. Be still my heart.

At the doorway of the cafeteria, Atobe paused—"Oshitari."

"Hello, Atobe-kun." The tensai's eyes glinted from behind glasses. "Pardon me for the observation, but have you recently acquired a taste for blue roses?"

"Of course not, red roses have always—"

"Then, perhaps, you are unaware of what is in your breast pocket?"

Feeling for the brush of petals against his fingers, he spun immediately—yet, the cafeteria was now empty, all seats unoccupied.

"We have all summer to play, neko-chan."

POSSIBLE SEQUEL TEASER:

"Fairies, Atobe-san? Surely you don't believe in such fancies?"

Atobe coughed. "Ore-sama merely wishes to know how you were able to make the Black Star appear in Ore-sama's champagne."

It must have been bugging him for a while.

"As I recall, it was no longer Atobe-san's champagne either?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him infuriatingly.

"You admit to it, then?"

"Magical creatures don't exist, Atobe-san."

"Then—"

She tilted her seat back further so that it was in such a precarious position Atobe considered readying himself to lunge forward over his own table to catch her when the inevitable happened.

She half-turned in her chair and reached one arm towards him over his books and pens. With a snap of her wrist, a blue rose appeared out of nowhere into her hand, and he plucked the stem out from between her fingers gracefully, turning it back and forth on his palm.

"Magicians, however, do."

AN: Note that I am a solemn believer in the fact that grammar is there for me to abuse to achieve full story-telling effect, and so I am abusing it to the fullest (mwahaha ok, so i just hate proof reading what of it). Also, i have no idea how Atobe's characterization turned out. Please leave a comment below if you have any time, it makes me feel appreciated and motivated :) May do a L one-shot later, send plot or character ideas in reviews?