Title: Timing
Date: March 25, 2014

Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm still amazed by how much feedback I've been recently getting (it's still not fully sinking in), it's just so crazy motivational. It feels like I'm picking up new readers too, so I'm more than grateful at this point. (I was worried that this fic's slow intro would shy people away from reading the whole story)Honestly, thank you all so much for the positive feedback and encouragement!

Here's a relatively short chapter, but jam packed with Atobe… so I hope it makes up for the length.

Atobe Keigo
Chapter 2

Nature versus Nurture.

It was that long-winded, never-ending debate contrasting whether genetics or society makes a person.

Atobe Keigo supposed that if Nature was truly the reason behind who he is as a person, then he would be a mix of both his father and mother. After all, he had both their blood running through his veins… and his father was callous, detached and ruthless. He'd hate to think he had anything in common with the old man. And then there was his mother… he heard that she was a deviant. She was wild and brazen. Again, should he turn out anything like her then the future would definitely be grim. Combine his father and his mother and well… it was hardly the ideal combination.

Then if Nurture carved him into the person he is today, he supposed he should have been his late grandmother's ideal grandchild. Because he was the epitome of high society and aristocracy. Despite his origins, he was raised with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was the perfect definition of a well mannered young master. But because of his origins, his grandmother never cared for him right to the moment of her natural death. And everywhere he wandered in that large estate where he grew up, he would always feel those pinching stares… because he was rejected and hated. He wasn't supposed to be there. His birth was a mistake. But the long, empty hallways and unoccupied rooms remained his home. Ever since he could remember, he has always been alone.

… So what did that make him?

And he remembered his earliest memory as a child… a memory that could never be forgotten, forever ingrained in his hands:

He had a pet canary.

It was a small yellow bird with the prettiest little voice that twinkled like bells.

Now fast forward into his last year at Hyotei, and he's kissing and making out with a girl. Some ebony haired girl who approached him the other day, claiming to have fallen in love with the great Hyotei captain. He couldn't quite remember her name… despite the fact that they were technically dating. But he accepted her confession anyways, just like how he had with all the others and wondered how long she would last. Because he knew she wasn't really in love with him… from past experience, he knew it was impossible to be loved and to love in return. So he wondered what it would take to shatter her delusions.

And he lost track of all the people he's ever dated. They would come and go all too quickly, that he didn't even bother learning names. And he wondered why he even tried… Because love was complicated and something he could never begin to fathom. So what was the point in trying to understanding something he would never be able to wrap his head around in the first place?

But oddly enough…

… He didn't like being alone.

He wanted the company.

It wasn't like he was craving to be loved or anything …

Because love was shallow and despite all the love in the world, his mother never got what she wanted.

… Rather, wasn't it better to be needed?

And he remembered that little bird from his childhood… He remembered plucking each and every brightly yellow feather as it squirmed in his small hands. Because it didn't need its feathers… There was no point in flying if it wasn't going to leave that tiny little cage… and leave him. And why would it even consider flying away? It needed him to survive… Food, water, attention… He promised to give everything to that little canary.

… So long as the little bird begged for it.

Now although he couldn't quite remember this ebony haired girl's name… he remembered that she wanted to be a pianist. She was quite talented… boasting with enthusiasm of all the medals and awards she received for her performances. The piano was her life and passion.

So he laced their fingers together, pushing her all the more closer against the wall… cornering her.

But she seemed to be enjoying this, her laughter as bright as her smile.

His grip around her fingers tightened…

And tightened.

And he could feel her index snap all too easily under the pressure.

Then her screams filled his ears and an expression more fitting in its familiarity covered her face.

But didn't she say she was in love with him?

… Even if she didn't love him, it didn't matter to him in the very least. Because he had all the resources to take care of her. As long as she needed him and nothing else, forever staying by his side. He just didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be alone…

So she didn't need her fingers anymore.

And he could feel the bone in her second finger give way, shattering like porcelain.

She continued to scream, her shrill cries ringing in his ears. Her eyes wide open and face stained with tears and terror. And her movements became more frantic… She wasn't trying to embrace him like she had moments ago. No, she was flailing her arms and doing everything in her power to push him away. And from her expression alone, he knew that a realization came upon her… her delusions finally clearing.

Because no one could truly love someone like him.

… Even the woman he would never get to know had no space in her heart for him.

And this was all so pointless.

So took a step back, not bothering to look back and watch as she ran out of the room like her life depended on it.

And he remembered he had a pet canary.

It was a small featherless bird with the prettiest little cries that twinkled like bells.

It was a childhood memory he would never forget… forever ingrained in his finger tips, because he remembered tightening his small hands around that little bird's fragile body…

… feeling as the warmth and life slowly faded away.

And there came a day when Atobe Keigo decided to throw in the towel.

What was he point in giving in to petty confessions? Although he's lost track of all the people he's ever dated, they always turned out the same in the end…

As much as he hated to admit it… Maybe he was in every definition truly his father's son. A person incapable of loving anyone or anything… Correction: he supposed that wasn't fully true, because his father did love his money. Another difference was the people around them had all the capabilities of loving his father, until now Atobe had yet to find someone… anyone who could truly claim love towards him.

But he's always accepted that little fact about himself.

Still… He always wondered what it would have felt like to have his parents come pick him up after school. He remembered watching as those other kids rushed into their parents' arms, their laughter and smile infectious and searing. But he supposed he was too old for that now. He was old enough to realize that something like that would never happen to someone like him. But still…

… It was nice to think about.

And he imagined that there existed a person like her. Someone who was so devoted and willing to give everything up for him, because nothing else mattered… because they had each other. And he envisioned that person as needing nothing else, just because they would want nothing but him. Someone capable of making sacrifices for his sake, to give him the slightest justification that it was okay to have been born. But really… Atobe Keigo just wanted someone to truly and completely accept him.

But it seemed like a hopeless cause…

No one seemed to fit the description.

Heck, even Oshitari and Mukahi were far from the ideal relationship with their constant off and on again, but off again relationship.

But then he remembered something… or someone rather…

That expression of pure love and acceptance embedded deeply in profound azure coloured eyes...

He could hear his cellphone ring.

He glanced down at the blinking screen: Unknown number.

"Who is this?" He answered.

There was a sort pause on the other side until a baritoned voice replied, 'Tezuka Kunimitsu.'

And he recalled his match against the Seishun Gakuen captain. The way that russet haired teen foolishly and stubbornly played into his strategy, straining that arm until it finally fell limp and completely useless. And the Seigaku captain played as if he had something to prove… What exactly, would always be a mystery to him… But a win was a win. And he could feel a smirk make its way onto his face.

"Tezuka Kunimitsu." He repeated, relishing in the sound of his own voice, "… Do you want me to apologize?"

There was another pause.

And he wanted to laugh.

'No.' The Seigaku captain replied.

"Then to what do I owe this pleasure?" He wondered aloud. After all, if it wasn't to pay for expensive medical fees then he supposed Tezuka had no other reason to call.

'I need to ask you a favour.'

And he could feel his smirk disappear, replaced by a frown.

"… A favour? … From me?" … Did he really just hear that correctly? He figured the great Tezuka Kunimitsu would want nothing to do with him, especially with the way their match played out. Other than tennis, he couldn't quite imagine what the Seishun Gakuen captain would need from him. And from past experience, no one has ever needed or wanted anything from him… unless it was to erase his own birth. But it wasn't like he had a time machine or anything…

'Yes.' Tezuka confirmed.

And Tezuka Kunimitsu reminded him a little of his father… demanding with no regards of anyone else.

He tapped his index finger against the plastic side of his phone… it was irritating.

"Why would I…" He stressed, "… ever do anything for you?"

'You can choose not to.' The Seishun Gakuen captain sounded honest, 'But I'd be in your debt… and wouldn't you like that?'

And he couldn't help but to laugh out loud. He supposed he could humour the guy, "What's this favour of yours?"

There was another long pause, 'I need you to keep an eye on Fuji.'

And he frowned, "… Your tensai?"

'Yes.'

He could never forget the honey haired brunet… the prodigy of Seishun Gakuen's tennis club. The graceful way he moved across the tennis court, that dollish pretty face and those very blue eyes that shone with the same brilliance as sapphires. And from those blue, profoundly blue eyes he could see it… that rushing feeling of faint optimism. Because it was possible. Fuji Shusuke was truly and so utterly in love with Tezuka Kunimitsu… It was possible. It would have been exactly like how she was.

'He's the most mercurial person on the team.' Tezuka's voice interrupted, 'And… I need him focused on making it to Nationals.'

Ah… tennis.

And Tezuka Kunimitsu was all too much like his father. Prioritizing money… or in Tezuka's case tennis over his wife, whore or child.

And he sympathized with Fuji Shusuke… because he had already spent all those countless nights awake from the nightmares of how she must have felt. Had his father been anyone else… Had she finally been loved in return… would she have been able to notice him? … And accept him? And he wanted her to be happy… because she was his mother. He wanted to her to have been happy with him… without his father… Standing by the primary school gates waiting for him with a smile on her face, picking him up in her arms and laughing.

… He wanted Fuji Shusuke to be happy too.

"Tezuka… You're an interesting guy." He acknowledged, "Fine."

'You just need to watch over him and make sure he stays out of trouble. With your resources, Fuji doesn't need to know about this arrangement.'

"He won't even know I'm there." He replied, hanging up the phone.

… Because she would have been happier had he not been there either.

Had he not been born.

To be continued.

Note: So if you haven't guessed it already… the thing about Atobe is that he's kind of messed up. I tried to write him out with a Machiavellian personality: unemotional and detached from morality, and a super opportunist. He's also got a really huge Oedipus complex: wants his mother(s) to love him, hates his father. As you've read, he didn't really have a childhood but it doesn't mean it's too late (sorry no more spoilers!).

I kind of wrote this fic in a weird non-linear way, where you have to go back and reread previous chapters for past chapters to make complete sense. If you do end up rereading some chapters, keep an eye out for all the hints that Atobe might be a little on the crazy side. Yay! :D (The ending of this chapter actually coincides with Tezuka's chapter 6) Just keep in mind, there are no coincidences when it comes to Atobe.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please tell me your thoughts, cause I'm really nervous of how you're all handling this new take on Atobe… I'm honestly waiting to get hit in the face with flames.