Yay, the next chapter! This chapter is mostly conversation, hope you all don't mind! I also want to say before I forget that up until Atobe was 12 years old he lived in France. Yes, France. I got the idea from Another Story where it was discovered that he moved to Japan from Europe (where he was playing in tennis tournaments).

Disclaimer: All I own is the universe, nya!

Please read and review, nya! ^_^

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Chapter Two


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Atobe watched the boy sleeping on his bed, confused at what he had just done. Normally he would have just left, finding that whatever was going on was none of his business at all.

But, the sound of the boy's voice as he plead for that guy to leave him alone, it bothered him for some reason.

He sighed and placed a hand over his eyes. This was bad, very, very bad. Why it was bad? Well, he didn't have the answer to that yet.

Though he was sure it wouldn't take too long to find out the answer.

He straightened up when the boy groaned and shifted, tangling the sheets slightly.

Slowly, his eyes blinked open, a haze in front of them as he stared around the room. Where exactly was he? He didn't recognize this place.

His head was pounding unbearably.

"Are you alright?" A voice asked. Jiroh looked around to the armchair next to him.

"Who are you?" he asked, voice full of innocence and curiosity. Why didn't he remember anything?

"Atobe Keigo," he answered simply.

"What happened?"

Atobe rose his brow. "You mean you don't remember?" How could somebody forget something like that.

Jiroh shook his head. "No, I don't. Gomen."

"Ore-sama," Jiroh tilted his head at that. This person was very arrogant, huh? "Found you in the park. You were…" his voice trailed of for a second. "You were being harassed by a man."

Suddenly, Jiroh smiled. "I remember now, you saved me didn't you?"

"Ore-sama did, yes." He searched his face.

The teenager looked down at the bed sheets and blushed. "Arigato gozimasu, Atobe-sama. If you hadn't come along I…" he frowned, not liking where that thought was going.

Atobe disagreed with him to pacify the boy. "Ore-sama is sure you would have been fine."

Jiroh's shoulder's rose slightly. "Thank you for saying that Atobe-sama but I don't really think so."

Conversation halted and became an awkward silence, neither knowing what to say. They were strangers after all, being brought together in a way that neither of them felt particularly happy about.

"What's your name?" Atobe suddenly asked, surprising the both of him. Why'd he care at all?

He blushed again.

Did this boy blush a lot, Atobe thought.

"Akutagawa Jiroh, but I wouldn't know why you would want to know my name at all. I'm nobody and by the looks of it," he gestured to the large room that seemed fit for a king. "You're definitely somebody."

"You go to Hyoutei Gakuen, don't you?" Jiroh looked surprised, but nodded. "Ore-sama went there, ore-sama was the tennis-buchou."

Jiroh's eyes widened in realization. "You're that Atobe-sama? Sugoi…" he had heard stories about him from the teachers, and even a few of the tennis pros had mentioned him a few times.

Atobe nodded and all conversation stopped again.

What was with all of the awkward silences, they both thought.

"How old are you?" Jiroh asked curious, wanting to know more about his savior.

"Twenty-one," he paused. "You?"

"Sixteen," Jiroh wondered why the five year age difference made him a little sad.

Atobe stood. "You are probably hungry, eh?" Jiroh nodded shyly and pushed his hair away from his face. "Come, ore-sama will have the cooks fix you something."

He waited for the teen to stand and when he did, Jiroh felt dizzy, stumbled, and fell into the man's arms. Atobe caught him, stepping back a little so that they would fall to the ground.

Jiroh blushed but didn't let go of Atobe. "Uh, gomen Atobe-sama,"

He shook the apology off. "Its fine," Atobe straightened the boy up and started walking out of the room, listening to the light footsteps of Akutagawa-kun following him. The boy was so small and light and yet he wasn't more then a few inches shorter them himself.

That couldn't be healthy.

"Atobe-sama, you really don't have to, I should probably be getting home." Jiroh bit his lip, wondering exactly how long he had been out.

Turning his head to give him a glance, Atobe said, "Ore-sama can not let someone from Hyoutei not be properly taken care of, plus, unfortunately, it's rather late, or early, depending on how you look at it."

Jiroh looked around as they walked down the hall to see if there were clocks.

There wasn't.

"Um, what time is it exactly?" he tilted his head and sped up to walk besides the older man.

Atobe didn't look over at him.

"Four-thirty,"

Jiroh's eyes went wide. "Four-thirty? In the morning?" Atobe gave a nod. "Oh, I'm going to be in a lot of trouble."

"Ore-sama can give them an excuse if you want ore-sama to." Why did he say he would do that?

He shook his head. "No, you better not. I'll just tell them I was over at a friends, that would be better since they know him… at least… maybe it won't comfort them." His parents never were really fond of Gakuto.

Atobe glanced at him. "Why don't you just tell them the truth?"

"I couldn't, that would just make them mad. I'm not supposed to walk alone at all. I've got narcolepsy and it can get dangerous if I decide to sit somewhere, especially when I'm tired. I was very tired yesterday. I hadn't gotten much sleep." He pursed his lips as the entered the kitchen. "That's probably why I slept for such a long time actually."

"What would you like?" Atobe asked.

Jiroh looked over at the ruffled looking cook. "Anything really, but I can make it myself, I know how to cook."

The rich man waved it off and sat him down at the table. "No, you shall not, this is what he's paid for and you should rest." He sat down next to him at the head of the table.

Narrowing his eyes in confusion, Jiroh asked, "Why do you even care? It's not like you know me, or I know you, or we're anything to each other. We just met and you don't exactly seem like the type of person to care what happens to others unless it's beneficial to you in some way."

Atobe raised his brow at that. "For someone ore-sama just met, you sure do know a lot about ore-sama."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Well 'ore-sama' isn't exactly that difficult for me to read. And calling yourself 'ore-sama' is very arrogant of you."

Smirking, he chuckled. "You say whatever comes to your mind, don't you?"

Jiroh smiled slightly. "I don't see the reason not to. Does that bother you?"

He shook his head. "No, ore-sama likes that about a person actually. Shows you have confidence and aren't a pushover."

"Do I seem like a pushover?" he gave a small yawn.

"Just by looking at you? Yes." His lips twitched. "Are you still tired?"

Jiroh yawned again. "I'm always tired, well, unless I'm around Marui-san! He's sugoi." He nodded. "Oh, and just because I'm narcoleptic, doesn't mean I don't know things. But that's nice to know I look like a pushover." He giggled. "Perhaps I can change that."

A plate was set down in front of him. Jiroh smiled up at the cook. "Arigato,"

Atobe watched him as he ate. "You're hungry, eh?"

He swallowed and nodded. "Mh-mhm, the last thing I ate was a little bit of Marui-san's chocolate cake! While good it isn't exactly filling unless you eat the whole thing! I know from experience." He grinned and went back to eating.

There was silence for a few minutes while the teen ate. Suddenly, Jiroh looked up at him and smiled softly. "Tell me about yourself."

Atobe looked surprised. "Eh? Why?"

Jiroh laughed. "Because I want to know more about the person who saved me, of course. If you tell me about you, I'll tell you whatever about me that you want to know! You can ask questions, too."

He was exactly sure why he found that a pleasing trade. "Fine, ore-sama guesses. What do you want to know?"

His eyes widened happily. "I get to ask questions?" Atobe nodded and Jiroh grinned. "Sugoi! Ne, ne, how long have you lived in Japan?"

"What makes you think ore-sama hasn't lived here all ore-sama's life?" He asked curiously.

Jiroh tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Well, you could have lived here all your life, but—to me—it just doesn't seem like it." He shrugged. "I don't know why."

"Well," he started. "You're right. Ore-sama moved here from France when ore-sama was twelve."

"Sugoi…" he whispered, eyes beaming. "Can you speak something in French? Please?"

Atobe chuckled. "Vous êtes excité facilement."

Jiroh gaped. "What does that mean?"

He laughed again. "It means, you are excited easily."

"Oh," he blinked then nodded. "It's true, I am." He smiled slightly down at his plate.

Atobe frowned. "Is it not to your liking?"

Jiroh shook his head. "No, it's perfect, I was just thinking."

"About what?" He asked, not sure why he was interested. He had just met him and suddenly wanted to know so much about him.

Things just weren't making any sense to him.

"Nothing really," he sighed. "I really should go home Atobe-sama."

"Do you have a way to get into your house? Because ore-sama should hope your parents don't leave the doors unlocked." Atobe stated.

Jiroh frowned thoughtfully. "Well, no but…"

Atobe placed a hand on the table. "Then you should stay here for the night, ore-sama commands it." He said, grasping at the chance… for some reason beyond himself.

"But, school, I…" Jiroh reluctantly tried to find an excuse to go home. He didn't want to leave.

"Ore-sama will have the driver drop you off on ore-sama's way to work. Ore-sama went to Hyoutei, we know where it is." He waved off his lousy excuse and stood.

Jiroh stood with him. "But, my uniform," he looked down at himself finding that he wasn't wearing it and looked at Atobe, confused.

He smirked. "Ore-sama is having it washed."

"Oh," he pursed his lips cutely.

Cutely? What was that about?

Well, a part of Atobe's mind started to say as way of explanation, the boy is rather attractive… for a boy.

He shook those kinds of thoughts from his head and went back on his way towards his room, Jiroh following him.

"Why are you trying to have me stay so badly, Atobe-sama?" He smiled a little slyly.

"Because it is late, you are a high schooler, you need your sleep, and ore-sama doesn't particularly fancy driving you home." He answered, knowing it wasn't the truth but not knowing what the correct truth was.

"Hmm, wouldn't your driver be driving?" It was difficult to imagine Atobe-sama driving… unless it was some very expensive sports car.

He could so imagine Atobe-sama driving a black sports car, the hood down, sunglasses in his eyes, hair flying in the wind, and himself in the passenger seat—

Wait, what?

Jiroh shook his head and blushed. Where did that image come from?

Atobe rolled his eyes. "But ore-sama would be coming to make sure that ore-sama's car isn't wrecked. If anything happened to it, ore-sama would like to fire that blasted driver before ore-sama murdered him."

He giggled at that. "You care so much about your car, but what if it got wrecked so badly that everybody in it died?"

"Ore-sama wouldn't die because then ore-sama would sue the car company." His lips twitched upwards at his own response.

Jiroh outright laughed at that. "You're funny Atobe-sama," he grabbed his arm and grinned up at him. Atobe cast the offending arm a glance but paid it no more mind. "I like you!"

"Eh?" he questioned. He liked him? How could the boy like someone he hardly knew?

Jiroh skipped lightly but not enough to where it would bother his older companion. "But I guess that isn't saying much, I like everybody! I like my teachers, my classmates, the people at rivals schools, Marui-san, and Kirihara-kun, and Niou-san, and Yagyuu-san, and Hiyoshi-chan, and of course I love Gakuto!" He grinned excitedly.

"Gakuto?"

He nodded. "Mhm, Mukahi Gakuto! My bestest friend ever." He said childishly. It was… adorable, Atobe had to admit. "I love him, he loves me too, I know that will never change." He frowned. "But sometimes I wonder why things get so awkward around him. Like today—or yesterday, I guess—we were talking when he suddenly turned red and jumped up from the bench. I wonder why that was."

Atobe raised an eyebrow at that but decided no to say anything to the teenager. Let him figure that one out on his own, a part of him said.

The other part wanted to see this boy's face if he found out his "bestest friend ever" liked him a bit more then a friend. That was sure to be amusing, but Atobe wasn't that cruel.

They stopped in front of a door Jiroh didn't recognize. "Ore-sama is guessing that you would like to take a shower?" He nodded and Atobe opened the room to a large bathroom decorated in gold, white, and black.

There was a tub in the middle that Jiroh was sure could fit ten people.

"Sugoi…" he said quietly, eyes wide to the size of saucers. Atobe smiled at his reaction and gently pushed him in, sure that he would move on his own.

"Ore-sama will have a maid bring you something to wear after your shower is done and then you can get a little more sleep before you have to go to school. Ore-sama is sure you're tired." He added when Jiroh yawned.

He nodded. "Sleep would be nice, sleep would be always nice." Just as the heir was going to close the bathroom door, Jiroh stopped him with a hand and smiled up at him. "Thank you Atobe-sama, I'm sure a lot of people wouldn't do this and I would never expect you to be someone that would. I've heard plenty about you from people, and I thought you would have been some horrible person by the sound of it." Jiroh looked down and smiled, shifting his feet. "Imagine how pleasantly surprised to find that I was wrong! Thank you, again." He closed the door, and Atobe was left there blinking.

-

Atobe pursed his lips as he sat in his office chair while the teen took a shower. Not a horrible person, eh? Well he was sure that there would be plenty of people that disagreed with that statement.

He laughed and flung his head back slightly. Not horrible? He himself had to disagree with that statement.

But—he figured—that since Akutagawa-kun had just met him, he would give him time to realize that he was—indeed—a horrible person who cared nothing about others' feelings and only his and his family's money.

It probably wouldn't take long for him to find that out, actually, as—despite being narcoleptic and sleeping most of the time he guessed—that Akutagawa boy seemed impeccably observant.

That… intrigued him a bit, he was willing to admit. He could understand why this Mukahi Gakuto person had fallen for his friend, it seemed rather easy to do so after all.

He shook that off, there was no need for thoughts like that.

Atobe didn't actually mind the fact that he was a boy so much that he was a teenager and that just… just wasn't right. Not in the least, plus, he was to be married soon and it would do no good for them to start something that would never be able to last.

He gave an annoyed sigh. Why was he even thinking of this? He hardly knew the teen, let alone actually like him. Atobe liked few people, if any at all. Actually, the only person he even sometimes liked was his old friend Oshitari Yuushi, but he was now off in America seeking a singing career.

Singing? He scoffed. Oshitari could have done so much better.

But… it was his choice.

It wasn't the choice he would've made though, not in the least.

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Jiroh lay in the big fluffy bed, beyond comfortable but not able to get to sleep for some reason.

He didn't understand why not, at the moment he was the most at ease then he had ever been before. Surprisingly enough, he actually liked this large room filled with extravagance. Not that his house wasn't large, because it was (you had to be rich to be at Hyoutei), but his house didn't even begin to compare to this one and he had always thought he would rather live in a small house, cozy, warm.

Well, no, he still did, but there was something about this place that he liked more so.

Probably the bed, huh? Yeah, it's the bed, he decided, smiling and rolling over.

Jiroh had meant what he said about Atobe-sama being nice. He knew very few people that would actually have helped it at risk of their own health (he wasn't as oblivious to people and their intentions as people thought, as even Gakuto thought), but for some reason, one of the last people he had ever thought would do something like that did, and that made him happy for some reason.

That was the last time he judged someone on what other people say without knowing the person before hand.

But why did he feel as if Atobe-sama hadn't agreed with what he said about him?

He shrugged to himself, maybe he would find out.

Jiroh yawned and closed his eyes. He wondered if Atobe-sama would mind talking to him again someday.


Gakuto watched in amazement as the stretch-limo pulled up at the Hyoutei gates along with everyone else. The whispers around him all repeated the same thing.

"Is it someone famous?"

"What if it's a magazine come to take one of our pictures?"

"Let it be Oshitari-san!"

Truthfully, he kind of hoped it was the last one—Oshitari Yuushi was his idol after all—but he would never tell anybody that little thought.

He was even more shocked by who stepped out of expensive car along with everyone else.

"Uh, thank you for the ride… Atobe-sama." Jiroh stated, blushing, all too aware of the hundreds of eyes on him.

"Atobe-sama?!"

"As in the Atobe-sama? Hyoutei's former tennis-buchou?!"

"What other Atobe-sama is there?"

The silver haired man smiled up at the teenager. "It is no problem, Akutagawa-kun. Ore-sama is happy he could help. Have a nice day at school and perhaps you might see ore-sama again. Driver." The driver closed the door and got in the driver's seat.

"I hope so," Jiroh whispered, watching the car drive off.

Slowly, Gakuto walked up to him as everyone started to walk away, loosing interest now that Atobe Keigo was no longer there, though a few curious gossipers stayed and wondered why Akutagawa Jiroh of all people had been with him.

The redhead gave a forced smile and swallowed tightly. "So, uh, what was that about, eh? Atobe Keigo? What a catch."

Jiroh nodded absently, not actually listening.

Pursing his lips angrily, Gakuto snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face and was happy when it pulled Jiroh's attention back to him.

"I'm sorry Gakuto, what did you say?"

He bit his lip to from screaming at him and crossed his arms, rocking back on his heels and shrugging. "It was nothing, just wondering how you met Atobe Keigo."

"Oh," Jiroh looked down at his shoes nervously and tugged a curl behind his ear. "It's a long story actually." He looked up and gave a bashful grin.

Gakuto smiled for real this time and hooked his arm around the older boy's. "I've got time. Always time for you Jiroh."

Jiroh's grin widened and he pulled his friend along towards the school. "Okay, but don't get mad and go on a crazy rampage for revenge, I'm fine, seriously."

The redhead was immediately alert and checked his friend for any wounds, making him laugh. "Are you hurt, Jiroh? Tell me who did it and what, I'll beat the fucking shit out of the bastards!"

"Gakuto! I told you not to get mad, I'm fine, I really am." He laughed loudly and continued pulling his friend.

The dancer frowned. "Well, if you're sure. Continue on," he stated, eager to hear more of the narcoleptic boy's voice.

Atobe opened the door to his office, walked in, and hung up his jacket. That was definitely an arrival for the teenager.

He chuckled, knowing that Akutagawa-kun hadn't exactly expected there to be such a crowd. Despite the fact that Atobe knew just how observant the boy was, he was also rather innocent and oblivious in some things.

Just not when it came to people, he added to himself but thinking that wasn't exactly true. After all, the boy had called him nice. That… that just wasn't him.

Horrible—as he said he thought he would be—was a much more accurate description of him.

But—he figured—that he couldn't change the mind of someone who already made theirs up and he didn't actually want to change his mind. It was a nice feeling, having someone think he wasn't a bad, disgusting, lowlife, person.

Well, he was, but maybe not in those exact terms.

He at least hoped it wasn't in those exact terms.

Walking further into the room, he grabbed the papers over by the couch and walked towards his desk, resulting in him stepping on something quite solid.

He looked down at it curiously and bent down to see the American coin Oshitari had given him when he visited a few years ago.

Picking it up, he stared at it, lips pursed before sighing and giving an ironic laugh.

Atobe stood, turning the coin over his hands. How funny, just before he had left yesterday, he had flipped it and it had landed on tails, but when he threw it behind him it had landed on heads. That was just too funny to be true.

He set it down on his desk and walked over to the window, staring off into the distance. The silver haired man raised a hand to partially cover his face and looked at stared at his old school only about a mile or so away.

Giving a small sarcastic smile, he looked back over at the coin and shook his head. "You have got to be kidding ore-sama."

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TBC