Hi! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it was much appreciated. :) I'm going to do my best to continue updating weekly. I would like to thank acantabloom again, who helped me out with this chapter, too. It has vastly improved thanks to all of the edits! :)
"The day of the tournament has finally arrived," Yukimura announced, gazing around at his team. "We have all trained hard for these matches, and, to be honest, I'm quite sure that our victory is inevitable. Work hard, play well, and do not lose. And Akaya, pay attention, please."
"But I'm looking for Atobe," he whined, continuing to scan the bleachers. "Does anyone see him yet?"
"Akaya," Sanada snapped, "stop interrupting and listen to your captain."
"Thank you, Genichiroh. Now, Niou, Yagyuu, you will be playing doubles two," Yukimura announced, crossing his arms across his chest. "And Yagyuu, don't reach for your eyes so often. Niou doesn't wear glasses. It gives you away."
"Ehh? Yukimura-buchou, how'd you know?" Niou exclaimed. Yukimura chuckled.
"It's crucial for a captain to know his team, Niou," he replied.
"No one else could tell," Niou grumbled, giving Yagyuu a shove. "Way to go, Hiroshi. Giving us away like that."
Yukimura shook his head, laughing. "Your façade is just as flawed, Niou. Now, stop bickering and go get us the first win. And remember," he called as they started off, "play it up. You never know, Atobe might be watching!"
"Of course, of course," Yagyuu, Niou, to everyone but Yukimura, agreed, and started off toward the court. Niou followed, still grumbling.
"And next time, tellus when you're planning on switching!" Kirihara shouted, scowling.
Marui grinned and popped a bubble. "Wow, Akaya," he drawled, "way to ruin the whole point of the switch. Stupid. Anyway, I hope being found out doesn't throw Niou-the-Yagyuu off his game," he observed, licking his lips to check for stray flecks of gum.
"It won't," Yukimura replied, from where he was perched on the coach's bench. "It will further his concentration."
"By 67 percent, approximately," Yanagi added. "Yagyuu's concentration will also increase, although less so, since he is naturally more focused than Niou 86 percent of the time."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm no good in mathematics. Your numbers piss me off," Marui grumbled, turning to fish a pastry out from within his bag. "Unless, of course," he continued, mouth full, "they can find Atobe. Has anyone even seen him yet? I keep checking the stands, but I haven't seen..."
"Right there," Yanagi interrupted, gesturing across the court. "He arrived just a few moments ago. I'm surprised you didn't notice. Although it was a relatively quiet appearance, considering his status."
"Ah, I see him! I see him!" Marui exclaimed, latching onto Jackal in delight. "Do you, Jackal? Look, right there, right there!" He pointed excitedly.
"Marui, it's rude to point," Sanada said, frowning. He had noticed Atobe, a fact which he found somewhat surprising. He wasn't the most observant person when he wasn't on the courts, and rarely noticed anything that didn't happen directly in front of his face. But something in his gut had tugged his vision across the court, and there Atobe had been, settling into a chair between a large man Sanada suspected was a bodyguard, and a slender, bespectacled, well-dressed fellow with shoulder-length hair and an air of importance Sanada could sense even from where he sat.
"Yo, Yanagi, who are those people he's with?" Kirihara asked, squinting across the court.
"To the left is the only bodyguard Atobe will tolerate. Kabaji Munehiro, if I remember correctly. And on his right is his manager, Oshitari Yuushi."
"Wow," Marui breathed, taking another bite of cake. "Awesome."
"The match is starting," Sanada cut in. "Pay attention."
"It's difficult to pay attention when there's a rock star sitting mere feet away from you," Kirihara replied, frowning. "Can I go get his autograph?"
"No," Sanada thundered, rising and crossing his arms, ignoring the slight throbbing in his head that accompanied the movement. "Absolutely not. You are not to leave these stands, especially not for something so ridiculously inappropriate. It would be rude to your senpais and rude to Atobe-san, who is probably trying to enjoy the match. I suggest you do the same."
"Fine," Kirihara grumbled, slumping back into his seat. "It's not like this is going to be a difficult match, anyway. Look. They've already broken serve."
They had, Sanada noted, glancing at the scoreboard. One game to love, Rikkai leading. The current score was 30-love, Yagyuu (Niou) serving. Their opponents looked utterly winded, and their eyes were wide in disbelief. Across the court, there was a flurry of movement, and Sanada looked up in time to see Atobe slide out of his chair and reach for a bag on the ground. He eventually pulled out something Sanada soon recognized as a notebook, and settled back into his seat. He began scribbling, glancing up at the match every now and then when the crowd cheered particularly loudly after a clever play.
Sanada frowned. However one-sided this match may be, it was rude to ignore the players' efforts so blatantly. Leaning back, he crossed his arms. If it was interesting play Atobe wanted, he'd certainly discover it in Marui and Jackal's combination. In any case, he also had no idea that Niou and Yagyuu had switched places.
"Naive," Sanada muttered, before wincing and flexing his calf muscle. It had stung for a moment. As he rubbed the throbbing muscle, his gaze wandered back to the pop star. He had paused in his writing and was conferring with Oshitari, if Sanada remembered his name correctly. Atobe was smirking and his silver hair fell in strands around his eyes. Sanada suddenly found himself strangely fascinated by the way Atobe's locks caught the sunlight, and between wondering if his hair color was natural and whether or not it would feel as smooth as Yukimura's between his fingers, Sanada lost himself almost completely, until the referee's call of "Game, set, and match," shattered his train of thought.
"Won by Yagyuu-Niou pair. Six games to love." The pair strode off the court, grinning. Neither had even broken a sweat, and Niou pulled off his wig and glasses with a flourish, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. Yagyuu had also removed his wig, and was rummaging through his bag for his spectacles.
Atobe had noticed their antics, and was watching with an amused expression on his face as the two reverted back to their normal selves.
"Do you see that, Oshitari?" he asked, jerking his head at the pair across the court. "They played as each other. Interesting, although to be honest, I don't see the point. If their opponents aren't aware of the fact that they switched until the end of the game, the psychological damage caused is useless to the actual game. It just rubs the defeat in the losing side's face, which is hardly good sportsmanship," Atobe said, flipping his notebook closed. "I hope the next match is more interesting."
"I'm sure it will be," Oshitari drawled, fishing his phone out of his pocket and flipping it open. "Ootori-sensei wants to know how you're doing."
"Fine," Atobe snapped. "Does it look like there's anything wrong with me?"
"That could be debatable," Oshitari mumbled, his fingers deftly gliding over the buttons of his phone.
"God knows why I put up with you." Atobe scowled and sunk lower in his seat.
"Because I'm sexy as hell," Oshitari replied. "And stop acting like such a child. It's not good for your image. May I remind you that you are in public?"
"I'm aware of that fact," Atobe replied. "Now shut up, will you? The next match is starting."
--
"Impressive game, Marui, Jackal," Yukimura said, smiling as the pair approached him after completely dominating their match. "They only managed to steal four points from you."
"Four points too many," Jackal sighed, slipping the weights from his wrists. Marui shrugged.
"Total domination might've made them cry," he said. "Hey Akaya, did you notice if Atobe was watching?" he asked, glancing excitedly over at the pop star.
Kirihara nodded, reaching for his racket.
"Yeah. He looked more interested than he did during Niou-senpai and Yagyuu-senpai's match, I guess," he replied, shrugging. "But I'm up next, and he's about to be blown away. Whoever is unfortunate enough to be my opponent is about to realize my true power. If Atobe's watching, I'm not holding back!"
--
"The boy with the pink hair had amazing net play, and his partner had good spirit," Atobe decided, running a hand through his hair. "And this boy," he gestured to Kirihara, "plays well. He's passionate, and somewhat frightening. However..." He tapped his chin, watching the rally play out on the court below him. "They all lack the certain presence I enjoy in a tennis player. A competitor should be calm, collected, and commanding, yet passionate and willing to fight to the death. Unfortunately..." He sighed and leaned back in his seat. "It's a rare combination to come by. Nah, Kabaji?"
"Right," the large man agreed, nodding.
"Mm. Ah, he's won."
"Game, set, and match. Won by Kirihara Akaya. Six games to love. We will now begin the Singles Two match."
--
Sanada stepped onto the court, clutching his racket. Everything went fuzzy for a moment, and he stumbled slightly, before righting himself and assuming his position at the baseline. His legs felt weak, and as he gripped the ball in his left hand, his fingers ached.
"What's wrong with me?" he muttered, closing his eyes. Could I be coming down with something? Or perhaps it's nerves... He shook his head slightly. He was never nervous before matches. But then again, I've never played in front of a world-famous pop idol, either... In any case, it's no matter. I can't let the team down. I can't let Yukimura down.
His eyes snapped open, and he tossed the ball into the air, coiling back in preparation to serve. He would make this a quick game, and then rest. He'd felt fine back in the stands, save for a few discomforts. The dizziness had only begun when he had stood.
He slammed into his serve, sending the ball over the net and into the corner of the box. His opponent darted after it, making a weak connection with his racket and sending back a high lob that fell out by a good few feet.
"Fifteen, love!"
"Thirty, love!"
"Forty, love!"
"Game, Sanada. Change court!"
Sanada hurried over to the bench and took a long slug of water.
"Genichiroh, are you feeling alright?" Yukimura asked, handing him a towel. Sanada simply nodded in response and returned to the court. His head was throbbing now, and his throat felt dry and tight, despite the water. Across the net, his opponent was preparing to serve, bouncing the ball against the ground.
"Hurry up," Sanada grumbled, tugging at his cap.
The serve came moments later, slow in comparison to most of his opponents. He returned it with an easy, down-the-line shot, quickly earning himself the first point of the game.
Good. If I continue this pace, everything will be fine.
The next serve was notably faster. Sanada still managed to claim the point, but his victory had been less of a conquest and more of a scramble.
The next point went to his opponent. As did the next.
Damn it.
"Deuce!"
Sanada grimaced and tightened his fingers around the handle of his racket, molding the shape of his hands into his grip-tape.
His return narrowly skimmed the edge of his opponent's baseline. The fumbled return barreled into the net.
"Advantage, Sanada!"
"Game, Sanada!"
"There's something wrong with him," Atobe muttered, leaning forward. "He can hardly stand straight."
"Should he be playing, then?" Oshitari asked, peering over the rims of his glasses at the capped boy below. He was sweating profusely, and he looked fairly unsteady.
"He wants to," Atobe replied, and there was an intrigued smile on his face. "He has drive." He gazed intently at Sanada, impressed by the young man. He was handsome, too. His jaw was strong and his eyes dark and passionate. The cap was a shame, but from beneath the navy brim Atobe could see thick, black hair. He was slender but obviously muscular.
"Game, Sanada! Change court!"
"He can't be too ill," Oshitari said. "The score's at five games to love."
"Look, he can barely stand. It will be a shame if he can't make it through these last few points." Atobe smiled again, raising a hand to his face. "Something tells me he will, though." Sanada Genichiroh. He was interesting.
--
Sanada was breathing hard, sweat sliding into his open mouth. He could barely feel his legs beneath him, and the constant slam of his heartbeat rang painfully in his ears.
"One more point," he muttered, wiping his eyes and blinking furiously to clear his vision.
The serve came too quickly, and he had to struggle to return it, sending a high, easy lob back to his opponent. Sanada could see the smash coming. He stumbled backward, watching wearily as the ball connected with the strings of the reddish racket. The sound it made was beautiful.
Without thinking, Sanada started forward, sprinting toward the ball. At the last moment, however, he felt himself spinning, his arms extending and his knee hitting the court with a soft 'thud,' masked by the slight scraping of his shoes. Something was pressing against his racket, and by instinct, he pressed back, relieving the pressure and reveling in the sudden weightlessness. There was a comforting silence surrounding him, and with a sigh, he let his racket clatter to the ground. His body followed seconds later, the clay court cool against his cheek. His eyes drifted shut, and he barely heard the referee as he announced the end of the match.
"G-game, set, and match. Won by Sanada Genichiroh. Six games to love."
Atobe rose, pulling his jacket over his shoulders. Without a word, he strode down onto the tennis court, coming to a stop in front of Yukimura, who was already crossing the court to where Sanada lay.
"Excuse me," Yukimura said, smiling, but barely bothering to hide the bite in his voice. "My teammate is apparently unconscious and you're preventing me from tending to him. If you need help returning to your seat, I'm sure one of my teammates would be more than happy to escort you."
Atobe laughed.
"Trust me, Yukimura-kun, if that is your name, I'll be able to make it back without trouble. I am, however, down here for a reason." He chuckled again, and ran a hand through his silver hair.
Yukimura stared, rather incredulously, at the boy in front of him. He looked oddly familiar, and he was quite sure he had heard his voice before...
"Oh my God, 'Mura-buchou," Akaya whispered from somewhere behind him. "That's Atobe Keigo. The Atobe Keigo. Holy..."
"Of course it is," Atobe snapped, glancing at Kirihara. "There is no one in the world who could ever hope to be more immediately recognizable. The combination of my enigmatic aura and unearthly beauty is unmatched by any other."
"Well, Atobe-san, it is a real honor to make your acquaintance." Yukimura replied, still smiling. "Many of my team members are fans of yours and were very pleased to see you here. However, I must tend to my fallen player, if you'll excuse me. I think it would really be best for you to return to your seat."
"I'm afraid I have to disagree," Atobe said. "I have a proposition. You still have a match to play, do you not?" He eyed Yukimura, and the captain reluctantly nodded. "From what I witnessed during this last match, I think it would be safe to assume that Sanada-kun would be highly disappointed should your team forfeit simply because he fainted and you all rushed him to the hospital. Therefore, as the generous being I am, I will escort Sanada-kun to the hospital and allow you to play your match."
"Absolutely not," Yukimura replied, pushing past Atobe. He knelt by Sanada, gently shaking his shoulder and pulling off his cap.
"Why?" Atobe pressed, following.
"It would be highly irresponsible for me to entrust one of my players to another teenager, especially one who is a complete stranger."
"Excuse me," another voice cut in, "but I'm Atobe's manager, and I would be happy ensure that your player remains safe and is cared for by the most capable physician available. Your hesitations are only natural, but as the captain of one of the strongest teams in Japan, I can imagine that this tournament means a huge amount to you and your team. I'm sure having to forfeit your inevitable win would greatly upset Sanada-kun when he comes 'round. I would be happy to provide you with all of the necessary cell phone numbers, and we would be sure to update you regularly regarding the health of Sanada-kun. We will also, of course, ensure that you have proper transportation to the hospital after the tournament has come to a close..."
"That's enough," Yukimura said, rising. "I would like a name, phone number, and the address of hospital to which you plan on taking Sanada."
"Of course," Oshitari replied, bowing. "Oshitari Yuushi. Here is my cell phone number, as well as my pager. As for medical care, assuming you have no objections, we will place Sanada-kun in the hands of Ootori Choutaroh, Atobe's personal doctor. I can assure you that he's both highly qualified and extraordinarily skilled. Sanada-kun will receive more personal attention than he would at a public hospital, of course."
Yukimura sighed and pushed a strand of hair away from his eyes.
"Very well." He paused, as if considering something, before lowering his head in an understated bow. "Thank you for your kindness."
"My pleasure," Atobe cut in, snapping his fingers. "Kabaji, carry Sanada-kun out to the car. Gently, gently..."
"Right," Kabaji agreed. He lifted Sanada's limp, sweat-soaked body from the court and slung it over his shoulder before starting toward the exit. Atobe shook his head slightly, chuckling under his breath.
"That Kabaji... He is really impossible,"he muttered, before following. His stride was fluid and effortless, and he seemed utterly unaware of the hundreds of eyes that traced his every movement. With a slight roll of his eyes, Yukimura started back toward the bench, his team scrambling after him, talking in hushed, excited voices.
"Wow," Kirihara was mumbling, "he was so cool!"
"Of course!" Marui exclaimed, popping a particularly large bubble. "It was Atobe Keigo! Man, Sanada is so lucky!"
Frowning slightly, Yukimura reached for his racket. It would be best to finish this match quickly. Perhaps it had been a mistake to place Sanada in such an arrogant stranger's care.
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