A/N: Okay, I know Atobe might act a bit (okay, a lot! sheesh-don't slap me! wahhh!) OOC, so pleaaase forgive me! Oh, and remember to review! Because Shia and I live off of them, hanging onto each word-ow! Okay okay, you got me. Each letter. Happy? -.- Oh-and I'm thinking of starting to title the chapters. Whaddya think?
Disclaimer: I do not own POT. GAWD.
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Exactly how the leader of the performing arts and the leader of the athletic department became partners was beyond Shia.
What did the two things have in common with each other, anyway?!
So at this current moment, Shia sat, disgruntled and arms crossed, in the classroom after school with Atobe.
"What?" she groused when Atobe stared at her with his eyebrows raised.
"Iie. Ore-sama just thinks he saw you somewhere before."
Shia gaped, cheeks growing redder with anger with each moment. Is this guy for real?! She spent an entire year-an year-does he know what that does to your dancing career?!-chasing after him like a lap dog, and this is how she is repaid?! IGNORED?!
"You...really...don't remember me?!"
Atobe frowned.
Was he supposed to?
"No."
In a flurry of movement, a resounding slap filled the room, as hand met 'royal' cheek.
A slightly red imprint was left on Atobe's face.
Eyes wide, he stared, appalled.
"You IDIOT! I hate you to death!"
Grabbing her bag, Shia stalked out of the room, slamming the door harshly behind her.
Glaring, Atobe muttered, "Freak! How dare she hit Ore-sama?! And Ore-sama is not a freak. Hmph."
-
"Hah? Aikawa Shia? That late girl?"
"Aa."
Atobe stared at his nails, adjusting the position of the phone wedged in between his right ear and shoulder.
"Hm...I remember her. She was vice president for the student council last year, no?"
Atobe raised his eyes in recognition.
"Ahhh, that girl. Hm..."
"She followed you around like a dog-I remember that too. She was your slave, practically. Recall that?"
Atobe narrowed his eyes.
"Hehh..."
"She slapped you? Must be pretty hard on you, Atobe. Its the first time you've been hit, huh?"
"Urusai! Ore-sama is able to take a slap from a petty girl. However, she will not be forgiven!"
Atobe clenched his hand into a fist.
"Maa maa...just give her a break. Its probably hard on her, too."
Atobe arched an eyebrow. How could it be harder on her, when, he was the one who was slapped?
"Hah?"
"Well, if you served an year slaving away when you're from a highborn family, and that 'master' doesn't even acknowledge you, wouldn't you be hard-pressed as well?"
"Ore-sama would never serve someone-"
"Atobe, that's not the point here," Oshitari sighed from the other line.
"Ore-sama is always the point."
Oshitari let out another sigh. There was no use in even trying to argue with Mr. Royal Highness.
"In any case, find a way to work with her-you're assigned to work with her, you know."
"Of course Ore-sama knows! That's why Ore-sama was gracious enough not to follow her and slap her back!"
"Then good. Besides, you've got to understand she's a girl. You don't go around hitting girls."
"Ore-sama knows everyth-"
Before Atobe could continue, Oshitari had clicked the 'off' button.
The tensai smirked in amusement.
'Hmph. Let's see how Mr. Great gets out of this one...'
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Fuming, Atobe prepared to slam open the door and give a good tongue lashing.
Instead of appearing at the designated area, Shia had left a note saying to come to the dance room 'because she had to practice her new routine.'
And for an odd reason, all of the people he ordered absolutely refused to set foot in the dance area. Paling faces, fearful looks, and scurrying was what he recieved when he ordered someone to fetch Shia. He even recieved some looks that screamed 'are you insane?!' Of course, he dealt with them accordingly.
As student body president, he decided to figure out the 'horror' that lay in the third room of the department, and why no one dared to speak of it. However, Oshitari had tipped him off saying something about the 'danger of staying in the same room as a ballerina doing en pointe.'
As if he knew what 'en pointe' was anyways!
Pushing the blue door open, Atobe opened his mouth to begin explaining the rules of proper etiquette, but found himself rendered speechless when he saw Shia, spinning on an axis nonstop.
Leaping up, she seemed to be twisting in the air, landing on both feet, tip-toed.
Noticing the emptiness of the room, Atobe finally understood why he'd seen some people come out with bruises on their faces...they'd been kicked in the face during her landing!
The danger of his beautiful face being striked lit a match of fear in Atobe, and he took a tentative step back.
Finally noticing Atobe at the doorway, Shia stopped and took a glance at the Hyotei captain who stood with pride and...caution? Hmph. No matter-not that she cared. Of course she didn't care about the jerk! Absolutely not. Really. Maybe. Hopefully.
"You're late."
Snapping back to his senses, Atobe flared with rage.
"Ore-sama is late?! What about you?! How dare you order Ore-sama to do something!"
"Hmph. You always have people comply to YOUR selfish demands. Why not listen to other's sometimes too, hm?"
Atobe gaped some more, his whole body being filled with repulsion and surprise.
When he finally did regain his voice he could only splutter.
"How...how...how dare yo-you! Ore-sama's demands are NOT selfish! The...they...wha...how...dare...you...you...!"
For the first time in his life, Atobe Keigo was rendered speechless.
Even when his fifteenth butler had stormed out of his room screaming after he'd ripped Atobe's favorite book, Atobe had remained calm. Heck, he'd even called after him, "You forgot to take your last paycheck."
When a girl had broke down in front of him in front of an entire crowd after he'd rejected her confession, he'd eyed her cooly and told her, "Ore-sama apologizes for hurting your feelings but not for rejecting you," and had walked away elegantly without a trace of regret.
And now, he was rendered speechless by a satin shoe-wearing, mussy bun-haired, mini skirt wearing ballerina. What was the world coming to?!
"Cat got your tongue?" Shia taunted.
'What the hell did you just say?!'
Shia's mind conjured up a mini version of herself, clad in a white toga, complete with brandished gold wings and halo.
Another thought rammed that one out of her head soon enough.
'Its fine! Think of all the things he did to you before!'
Another miniature Shia appeared, dressed up in a revealing red dress, with black horns and pitchfork.
'You be quiet! Shia-don't listen to that simpleton! Shia, deep down, you know that you love him-'
'YOU be quiet!' the devil was at the white Shia's side in an instant, pushing her away.
'Shia! You know you despise him! Think of everything he made you do and he doesn't recognize you!'
White Shia had risen, gathering her hand stogether in prayer form.
'Oh, I call to the holy gods. Begone evil spirit. Begone!'
Black Shia stared dumbly back, jaw slowly dropping to the floor.
'Oh, holy father, help us rest in peace. Oh, holy father! Begone evil spirit, begone! BEGONE!'
'That's the best you could come up with, you flying freak?'
'We angels don't fly! We float gracefully through the air, giving out-'
'Little sticks in the shape of plus signs,' Black Shia completed.
'Why you!'
'STOP IT! Both of you-me-you me!' Shia screamed in her mind.
The two mini figures stopped and stared at her with dull eyes, both in identical stances of arms crossed and weight in one foot.
'Wha-'
"Are you listening to Ore-sama?!" Atobe screeched.
He'd watch her close her eyes as if in pain at nothing at all, and grab at her own hair for no apparent reason before concluding that either one: she was in despair after hearing him speak, or two: she was having a seizure. Of course, everybody would be in high heaven when they heard his voice, so it was obvious she was sick or in a seizure. Indefinitely.
Snapping out of her 'inner war session,' Shia glared at Atobe-with much effort to retain that glare. How was it that it was so hard to glare at a selfish diva?!
"What?" she hissed.
"Ore-sama demands that we get to work. Ore-sama is a very busy person, and you should be honored that you're a part of his sacred schedule."
Shia stared.
"What?"
"Sacred schedule? My ass."
Atobe flared.
"Ore-sama is getting sic-"
"Shut it with the Ore-sama! God-its so damn annoying!"
Atobe's eyes widened, and he could only stare as Shia began to vent.
"You little prick! You may think you're all that great, but all I see is a stupid little monkey who lives off of his dad's money! You're so selfish! You never think of other people!I'm sick of those prissy little smirks you throw around, those snide little comments you give out, even that ridiculous little mole you call a beauty mark!"
Atobe's eyes slowly began to narrow; how dare she mock his treasured beauty mark?!
"What's so great about being able to hit a yellow ball with a stick?! HUH?!"
That was it!
Atobe, in a flash, slapped away the accusing finger that was being pointed at him, and had Shia pinned against the wall.
It was now Shia's turn to gape, eyes wide.
Fighting back a blush as hard as she could, Shia forced on a defiant look.
Atobe chuckled.
Shia frowned. Had the guy finally snapped under the pressure? On the verge of panic, Shia was about to touch Atobe's forhead when he spoke again.
"Ironic, isn't it?"
He had snapped.
"I'm being told off by a ballerina who knows nothing of tennis."
Oh. Oh. So that was it. Shia nearly laughed at her own foolishness. Atobe Keigo was already born in a not-so-normal state, so of course he couldn't have snapped. Of course.
And after Shia realized that basic fact, she finally processed what the tennis diva had said to her.
"I am not a ballerina who knows nothing!"
"Oh really?"
Shia froze. She knew this tone. This voice. This questioning, mocking pitch.
It was the tone Atobe Keigo used for those he considered 'didn't know their place.'
He used it to completely destroy one's hopes and retaliations in a span of four point one three minutes (Shia had actually counted).
Mustering up all the courage she had, she answered, "Aa. Want to make something of it?"
"Oh?"
Atobe was mildly surprised. To actually still be able to respond in her current state was admirable. The first one, actually.
Before he could continue, a startling ring snapped the two out of their own thoughts.
Taking a step back, Atobe released Shia to take his cell phone out of his back pocket, opening it with a swift flick of his finger.
"Be awed by Ore-sama's musical voice."
Shia rolled her eyes. She was far too familiar with the different ways he answered the phone.
She now strained her ears to hear the voice on the other line.
"Yo, Monkey King."
Shia frowned. 'Monkey King?' That person sure had guts...
Atobe narrowed his eyes.
"What do you want, brat?!"
'Brat?' Wow. The sheer fact that Atobe even bothered to give that person insultive name was amazing. Usually, he just returned it with something like 'You're just jealous because you would never match Ore-sama's prowess' or something of the sort.
"Tennis."
Ahhh, so that was it. A worthy tennis opponent.
"Hah? Ore-sama and you?"
"No. The entire team."
"You've gotta be kidding."
"Nope."
Atobe's eyes narrowed further.
"And why all of a sudden?"
"I just wanted to make sure that we're still stronger than you."
Woah. That kid definitely had guts. Atobe angrily flushed.
"How dare you mock Ore-sama's team?!"
There he goes again with the 'how dare you.' Ha.
"I don't know. So. You coming?"
Atobe regained his composure, straightening up.
"Fine. Where?"
"Tokyo Tennis Garden. In an hour. Don't be late, Monkey King."
"You're the one who's always late, you brat!"
"Ja."
Shutting the phone with a resounding 'snap!', Atobe began walking towards the door.
Shia cleared her throat and Atobe stared.
"What?" he asked irritably.
"The project?"
After a moment of silent contemplation, he turned back around.
"Come to the Tokyo Tennis Garden by five."
And before Shia could even open her mouth to protest, Atobe had briskly walked out of the studio.
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"Why am I even here?"
It was a fairly warm night, so Shia had 'randomly' put on a pair of grey skinny jeans, a black halter top underneath a off-shoulder white shirt, her hair undone.
Her blue converse tapped on the concrete ground as Shia sat on the front row of benches, arms crossed.
The Seigaku regulars were already there, smiling and talking to themselves.
About her.
And one of them, a hyper redhead named Kikumaru Eiji, was poking her. She knew his name because she was the one who'd researched all of them for Atobe last year. So now, she was confident that she knew all of them.
What she didn't know was that a certain freshman was missing, for he had just come to the school this year.
"Hoiii...you're here to see our match?"
Shia forced on a kind smile.
"Hai."
"Kawaii nya! I'm Kikumaru Eiji (as if Shia didn't know after she'd so thoroughly researched him for Atobe last year)! Nice to meet you!" Eiji grinned and Shia slightly blushed, edging away.
A black haired teen nearby frowned worriedly.
"Eiji, stop that. You're scaring her. Gomen-I'm Oishi Syuichirou. Nice to meet you."
Shia shook his hand. She knew him too. The mother hen of Seigaku. The other half of the nationally ranked Golden Pair.
She grinned a small smile.
"Ne."
The two turned to look straight at her, as well as all the other regulars.
"You're the Golden Pair, right?"
Eiji and Oishi nodded.
"And you're Fuji Syuusuke, the tennis tensai?"
Fuji's smile grew wider.
"And you're Tezuka Kunimitsu, right? Nationally ranked?"
Tezuka acknowledged her with a curt nod.
Shia's grin got wider as she abruptly stood up, startling the boys.
She bowed down low, even further surprising them.
"I'm Aikawa Shia! Yoroshiku! And good luck!"
Here, Shia raised her head.
"Make sure you beat them, okay?"
"Hah?" A tall, black haired teen, Momo, uttered.
"Fshhh...aren't you from Hyotei?"
"Hai."
"Saa...aren't you cheering for the wrong team? Why would you want us to beat them?"
Shia smiled gently.
She spoke in a sweet, almost loving voice.
Which only made it purely creepy.
"Because...they're nothing but a group of loud, obnoxious, ungrateful brats, and their captain is a half-assed jerk. That's why."
Shia finished with a grin.
She recived skeptical looks.
As Momo opened his mouth to speak, they were interrupted by a voice Shia knew oh-so-well.
"Aikawa! Ore-sama demands that you, a Hyotei student, stops socializing with those lowlives!"
Narrowing her eyes, Shia flew around before any of the Seigaku regulars could react to the insult.
"If they're lowlives, you're lower than the low, 'Monkey King!'"
Gakuto and Shishido tried a failed attempt to hide their laughter, while Oshitari let out a small smirk and Choutarou smiled worriedly. Hiyoshi snorted.
Atobe leered.
"Ara? Who's using my nickname?"
All heads turned towards the entrance of the courts.
And there stood Echizen Ryoma, smirking in all his glory.
"Ah! You!"
This time, eyes flew over to Shia, who gaped with an accusing finger pointed at the boy genius.
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A/N: Alright, I know. If this was the usual Atobe, he probably wouldn't have let Shia off the hook so many times so easily, but...oh well...please forgive me...