One Step
Written by: Kiasidira Ixari
Co-written by: Aventria
…you people suck at guessing games, huh. Only ONE PERSON—and you will know who you are when I reveal some more clues—figured out the real Fuji intrigue plot with the first clues I gave in the previous chapter. Out of HUNDREDS of readers, only ONE PERSON. (Well, at least out of the reviewers. I don't know about those who read but ignore the review button.) I mean, you all focused on the wrong—aaargh! Too much info! I'll shut up now.
Oh yea, this update is LATE. AGAIN. (sigh) Summer term's up, and my math professor seems to love bogging us down with a huge pile of homework everyday. Honto ni gomen, ne. (But I just KNOW that you'll forget the fact that this is a late update and be caught with one of our special scenes in this chapter!!)
ANNOUNCEMENT: Kia-chan will be launching a NEW STORY in PoT after One Step finishes—which is soon! The titles and other details are still under construction for now, but one thing that is certain is that it was inspired by this story—particularly one scene in this chapter! Tria-chan will also be returning with Kia-chan to co-author and beta-read this new story! We hope you follow us all the way through this one and the next one as well!
Minor changes to update schedule will be observed from now on. We will update weekly, but with no fixed day. The fixed Tuesdays make it hard for us when we have busy Mondays—which is now common.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Dedicated to: Para sa aking minamahal nakababatang internet kapatid—(wow, Tagalog na Tagalog)—na si Tola. Hayaan mo, maiintindihan mo din yung plot pagdating ng mga clues. It's just a matter of time, dear. Wag nang magsunog ng kilay.
Warning(s): …angst?
PS from Aventria: (also take as a warning of sorts if you wish) I'm really, extremely sorry for the crack. Inspiration stroke and was in crack-ish mood so… well… (sheepish) In summary, pardon the crack. Ah yes, in addition, Kia and I had agreed to still update weekly but not have a particular day to update due to our conflicting schedules and stress (amongst others).
Step Twenty-Eight: Growing Pains
(Revised Version)
Silence washed over the crowd.
"…were my ears failing me, or did I hear you say 'mother'?" Kevin asked hurriedly in Japanese. If Toushi was connected someway to someone in the Atobe family through the Lents, it was dangerous. This was dangerous. Kevin knew from Ryoma who heard it from Keigo that the Lent side of the family—the unwanted side—had hidden but explicit ties with cartels and mafia.
Toushi turned to him blankly, before shaking his head in negation. Kevin's forehead crumpled in thought, before he sent a glance to Keigo. The Atobe heir, the smart being that he was, immediately diverted the conversation to cover up Toushi. However, the damage was done. Richard was already staring at Toushi with a strange expression on his face—it was a mix of sadness, anger, regret, pain, and curiosity. But over all, it was a look of utter and complete confusion.
The dinner passed by as a blur for Toushi, who was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to actually care about his food, or about the people around him who were milling with unspoken questions. Kevin was loyally standing beside him through the dinner, and as soon as everybody was back up on their own feet again, he immediately guided Toushi out of the ballroom, leaving the other players behind.
"You know you'll have to explain a lot later, Toushi," Kevin silently muttered to him as they disappeared behind the huge oak doors that opened to the ballroom. "We most definitely heard you say it."
There was a tangible silence between the two of them as they walked down the corridors towards their own room. The silky blue moonlight filtered through the clouds and into the wide-open ceiling-to-floor windows, bathing the halls with a wispy silver glow.
Toushi's lips moved ever so slightly, whispering almost inaudible words.
"…they have to explain a lot too."
Richard Lent was a proud man with nothing to be proud of.
Anyone who has met him would know this fact by instinct. Even he knew it within himself, and somewhere deep inside he knew he acknowledged it too, no matter how grudgingly. People kept telling people that things like these could be changed, but he believed that in his case, it's not possible. What did they know anyways? What did they know about what he wanted, what he needed? About where he came from and where he wanted to be, about what he saw and what he wanted to see—it was all about him and his wants.
And no one else knew himself better than he did.
He was one of those people who found justice in what they did, and did not need overly gigantic reasons to do things. He was one of those people who valued money and fame. He was one of those people who loved winning and would go through any means to do so. He was one of those people whom others would call 'dirty'.
But he didn't mind that, no.
As long as he had everything he wanted.
But of course, life wasn't paradise. There was no way he could get everything he wanted.
Which was aggravating, like the problem he was facing right now.
For someone like him who owned quite a respectable fortune and had assets to take care of, not having a competent heir was disastrous, not to mention embarrassing. He had two wives, for shit's sake! Well, in reality, he only had one, as per what was legal (not that he gave a shit about that; he just wanted to keep his appearances clean). But he had a previous wife—a beautiful one, kind and caring, the perfect mother and wife.
And she bore him a son.
But that boy was… well, the boy had one little flaw that cost him his life.
Or did it?
Richard frowned as the car pulled out of the manor's driveway and swerved onto the main road leading back to the freeway. Recalling the events earlier at dinner, he found himself miraculously not focusing and fuming on that presumptuous Keigo's comments, but on a certain white-haired player.
He heard it with his own ears, no mistake. The boy said "mother" upon seeing Sayo.
He frowned.
Is he mine? Impossible. My son is supposed to be dead.
He pressed the red button on the speaker. "Turn to I-75. I want to drop by at the Northern Branch," he gruffly spoke, before releasing the button and moving backwards. He rested his back against the leather-covered black seats, releasing a stream of breath. He reached over to the limousine's small fridge, pulling out a bottle of Scotch and unscrewing the cap.
Yusuke is dead. I made sure he was.
"Well? Feel ready enough to explain yet?" prodded Keigo, sitting back down against the squashy red sofa beside Toushi and Kevin's now shared bed as he took a sip of his vanilla Scotch.
Kevin was settled in the middle of the bed and huddled with Toushi, while Ryoma was with Fuji and Tezuka—who were privileged guests, as usual, because of Ryoma—on the green loveseat. The young Echizen was being as snarky as ever because of his apparent frustration at being deprived of his after-dinner sex that was non-verbally promised earlier by both Tezuka and Fuji. Fortunately, he was tactful enough not to pour his frustration on Toushi.
Unfortunately for Keigo, however, he now became the prime target for the snark overload.
"Saru-chama, make this quick or else I'll fucking pin your bared arse with a monkey's tail and put you up for piñata!" snapped Ryoma as he adjusted his silk robe around himself and snuggled closer to his lovers for warmth.
The residents of the room couldn't resist snickering—even the downtrodden Toushi—at the mental image Ryoma's insult brought up, while Keigo's eyebrow twitched in annoyance.
"If the brat would shut up, we would continue. The sooner we continue, the sooner we finish; the sooner we finish, the sooner we all get laid," sniffed Keigo, avoiding the piñata comment. Just then, Nanjiroh slipped into the room silently, grinning at them and motioning for them to continue.
"It's still my business to know if there are things troubling my precious charges," reasoned Nanjiroh.
Keigo simply nodded in response, before turning to Toushi. "Well?" he prompted expectantly, receiving a warning glare from Kevin.
"…where should I start?" Toushi sighed.
"Well, let's start on how you know Sayo-obaa-san, for instance. I don't recall anyone mentioning you to me. I don't recall you from my childhood. Heck, my butler doesn't even recall you!" gave Keigo.
Toushi looked up at them contemplatively, before returning his gaze on the silk sheets. He rubbed his head, ruffling his freshly washed hair.
"I grew up with my dad," started Toushi after taking a deep breath. "He stood as both my father and my mother, and I knew that he loved me very much for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, I remember him trying to explain to me why I didn't have a mother like all the other kids out there whenever I asked. He never lied to me; he told me even back then that he and my mother weren't married, and that there was a no chance of me being able to see her again. He even mentioned that she was sick about some kind of disease before she died."
"Wait, wait," Keigo frowned. "Sayo-obaa-san wasn't sick. She was healthy when she died of an accident in Seattle."
"He's not finished yet, you bad, rude, monkey king!" reprimanded Ryoma in that common tone that parents used for naughty little monke—erm, boys.
Keigo gritted his teeth and curled his fist, eyebrow twitching, before relenting and silencing himself to let Toushi continue.
Toushi chuckled faintly, before continuing. "As I said, my father didn't lie to me. He told me that he loved me very much even though I wasn't born under wedlock, and that he loved my mother very much too. 'Circumstances just weren't right', he used to say. So I accepted that as I grew up. But see, my dad was a photographer, and he said one of the points he loved about my mom was her photogenic nature. So he had lots and lots of albums of her photos at home, and of course, he let me see them. I know my mother by name and face—but I don't know her. She was Shimizu Sayo. She was a proud, beautiful creature, my dad said."
"I just assumed that when you were saying 'Sayo-obaa-san', you were talking about some other person. Sayo IS a common name, after all, and the chances of my mom being connected to your family was like one in a million," snorted Toushi.
"Well, jackpot, Toushi, you're lucky," Kevin chuckled.
"Sou ne," smiled Toushi, before sighing solemnly. "I didn't even know how she…"
"…died?" prompted Keigo. The diva sighed. "She died approximately 16 years ago—almost 17, reportedly in a car accident. A very rainy day in Seattle can be a very deadly one. That should be just about the time you were born. Your birthday?"
"25th of August 1990," Toushi promptly answered.
Keigo's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "That's her date of death."
Toushi shrugged. "She's the one in the pictures. Her name matches, right? Shimizu."
Keigo nodded again, before taking the wallet-size picture Toushi handed to him. It was Sayo, framed against a familiar backdrop—their backyard. "Actually, it's Lent-Shimizu Sayo. She decided to keep her maiden name, for some reason. Maids rumor she didn't really love our oh-so-sweet Uncle Richard. No surprise there. I've heard some rumors of abuse—but I'm not too sure about that. Uncle Richard seemed to have liked her lots, and showed off her beauty to his cohorts. What I'm curious is about their son. The first one, because obviously you're not him."
"Who's supposed to be dead," added Kevin.
"The one thing that ensures Toushi's not Yusuke is the ages," pointed out Keigo. "If I remember correctly, Yusuke—her first son—was killed in that kidnap thing when he was two, about a few days Sayo-obaa-san died in the accident. If Toushi's birth date is the same day as Sayo-obaa-san's death date, then Yusuke is—"
"—older than Toushi," Kevin finished for Keigo silently. "Which means you have a brother. A dead one."
"Not so sure about that," chortled Keigo, drawing curiosity for Toushi. "But we'll discuss that for another day. Right now, I only have suspicions—no truths."
"Useless monkeys should be disposed of," drawled Ryoma, pulling away from the heated kiss he and Fuji had been sharing for the last few minutes they'd been talking, and licking his lips lusciously like a cat licking cream. "Syuu-chan, hug me?" he looked up cutely at Fuji, wide eyes begging and lower lip protruding.
Fuji chuckled, pulling the smaller teen into his arms gently. He let the smaller form snuggle and fit itself against himself, the black head comfortably tucked into the crook of his neck and the body supported by his arms and borne on his lap.
Keigo simply rolled his eyes, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'spoiled brat' under his breath.
"In any case," Nanjiroh sighed after having listened silently to the story, standing up and staring at Toushi. "You, young man, will be coming with me and eating a light snack in the kitchen. You haven't eaten a bite, kid. We have training tomorrow—I don't want you dying on us. Now, come, come!"
"Aren't you… curious about how my dad—"
"—met your mom?" finished Keigo, examining his nails closely and noting that he needed to fire the current nail technician because his finger hurt like hell. "We don't really care, and it doesn't really matter. Affairs are present left and right. No surprise for Sayo-obaa-san, what with how that scum Richard was treating him. I'm just glad she got to be happy even for a while with your father—whoever he is—and with Yusuke."
Toushi bowed his head, nodding slowly, before standing and ambling after Nanjiroh, who was beckoning him forth.
"You need me to come with you, Tou?" asked Kevin, still not letting go of Toushi's hand.
Toushi smiled. "Nah, it's okay. Maybe I need some alone time to think too, you know."
Kevin nodded in understanding, watching the two exit the room and close the door. He sighed, turning to the others. "So, Fuji, haven't you got anything to say?" he asked.
"Huh?" Fuji unintelligibly replied, too preoccupied with his pet that was currently licking light dry trails along the side of his neck with a very sensual tongue.
Kevin rolled his eyes, picking up a pillow and chucking it at Ryoma. He marveled at how much less hurt he was feeling under the situation that would normally have had him running out of the room to prevent embarrassing himself.
"Ow!!"
"Will you stop that for a moment, Ryo? You can both get laid later," sniffed Kevin, before turning back to Fuji. "You were staring at the portrait earlier too. What's with you?"
All of them silenced—even the sniffling Ryoma—and lifted their eyes to rest expectantly upon Fuji. The tensai chuckled, waving it off dismissively. "Don't worry, I don't think I have connections," Fuji said, faintly noticing Keigo's strange sharpened gaze but putting it off as their common spite. "I don't even know the lady. I just recognized the photographer's signature. Let's just say he's… someone I know."
Keigo looked up in surprise. "You know Ryuuka-san?"
Fuji chuckled, leaning down and placing a kiss on a purring Ryoma's nose. "He was my mentor in photography. He was the one who sparked my interest in the field, actually. We met in one of my uncle's place in France when my uncle commissioned him for a photo shoot for my uncle's musical business advertisement."
"Well, there's a surprise," remarked Keigo with his eyebrows drawn up high. "Him and his son; both rarely ever surface. Surprising that he's camera shy, considering he works with them. Media flocks him whenever he goes out because of his impressive artistry."
"Oooh, so that's where Syuu-chan learned," Ryoma grinned. "Because my Syuu-chan is so good."
"Thank you, Ryoma-chan," smiled Fuji.
"In any case, I still think they're hiding from something… or someone," Keigo sighed, plucking one of the small bars of Belgian chocolate by the bedside table.
"Hiding?" echoed Tezuka, adjusting himself as Ryoma now turned to him for cuddling. He pulled the younger player on his lap, forcing himself to ignore the patch of skin the robe revealed when it rode up as Ryoma shifted into his lap. Ryoma's thighs clamped around his lower waist loosely as the lad pulled himself up and snuggled his head into Tezuka's neck, much the same way he did with Fuji. He threaded his fingers into Ryoma's hair, kneading his finger pads against the scalp in relaxing circles. Ryoma purred very loudly.
Keigo nodded in reply. "I haven't even seen his son yet, and I've known him all my life," Keigo reasoned. "Surely the media doesn't want him as much as they want me."
"Trust me, Keigo, the media loves you to bits," snorted Kevin, pulling out a pack of special peanut butter pocky from the bedside drawer, along with a complete deck of Tarot cards. "Anyone up for Tarot reading? I solemnly swear that I'll mess up your future."
He grinned.
"This way, this way," led Nanjiroh, humming cheerfully to himself and grinning like an idiot as they made their way down the wide well-worn cobbled walkway that led to the ITF courts. It was finally the introduction day, a day after the dinner with the Atobe family. The whole group was following him, since they were all students under ITF right now even thought they had yet to attend their first classes. However, there were a select few who were standing out.
Team Japan was wearing orange-and-red themed jerseys according to the color coding ITF did for the teams, clothes courtesy of Keigo as usual ("Be awed be ore-sama's generosity." "Yes, saru-chama, we're awed by your generous ego just fine."). The jackets were white in base and had twin red and orange lines running down the arms' sides. The collars and the hems and the zippers were colored twin orange-reds as well. The back had 'JAPAN' outlined clearly on the back in the same colors. The pants were in white as well, with orange-red lines running on the sides.
The shirt underneath, however, had a more intricate design.
"Really, Keigo, you had to make me pose for an hour for this?!" Ryoma sighed in outrage, plucking disdainfully at his shirt. He could still feel his legs aching from the effort to keep still. "And your photographer sucked. Honestly."
"Ah, come now, Ryoma-chan," smiled Fuji, though for once, the tensai was keeping a reasonable distance between them (most probably to maintain propriety). "I find it rather nice to have the shirts remind me of you."
Ryoma pouted. "Are you saying that unless you see the shirt, you don't think of me?"
Fuji chuckled and placed a hand on the boy's head to placate him—for now. (Everyone knew Fuji was extravagant when it came to Ryoma, and apologies were no exceptions.) "Of course not, Ryoma-chan. You know I'm very very fond of you!"
"Hmmm…" Ryoma smiled contemplatively, before looking back at the shirt.
It did have Ryoma. His outlined figure against the red shirt, that is. He was leaning back and holding his tennis racket back as if preparing for a serve. His other arm was held upwards, as if measuring the ball's distance, and his legs were bent as he geared for a jump. An outlined ball had been added to it as well, and the patch area also had 'JAPAN' on it. The collar and hems had white and orange lines to contrast against the jerseys, and the modest tennis shorts were white with lines at the side like the longer pants.
Meanwhile, behind them, the Reserve team was wearing simple red jerseys, and the non-members were wearing all whites.
"Oi, hurry up, you bunch!" barked Nanjiroh, way ahead of them. The coach, in turn, was wearing something closer to respectable today. There was his usual polo, but today it was red and white—and it was buttoned close for once (and he kept complaining, much to Ryoma's utter annoyance, about how hot it was). He was also wearing his tennis shorts—black, as he preferred them—and tennis shoes, but other than that, he had nothing else. "Media's not fond of waiting, you know!"
Ryoma and Kevin both snorted at that, having experienced the real horrors of media. They both shivered as they were reminded of those rabid fan girls that reportedly injured some journalists who badmouthed them and some other fellow players in the circuit. While it was nice to know that people loved them and practically worshipped the ground they walked on, it was a tad bit disturbing to know that these fans were spurred enough to hurt. (Just imagining how much damage they could do from the opposite side relieved them like hell. Thank God they were fans.)
They rounded the corner and came face to face with the twenty or so full main courts of ITF full and teeming with people—media, fans, scouts, businessmen, fellow athletes; name it. They were all gathered. In the middle of the courts were the students and teams from the other countries.
"Uwah… they all look strong," Eiji muttered under his breath, clutching Oishi's arm and clinging on tightly. He eyed the other teams; they were all obvious for they were wearing different jerseys than the rest of their fellow students. However, Eiji's sharp eyes noted that no one else actually had pronounced Reserved teams like them, and that few rivaled the quality of their jerseys. As expected of Atobe…
"Don't worry Eiji, we'll be just fine," smiled Oishi, patting his partner's hand comfortingly.
"Show time," both Ryoma and Atobe smirked at the same time, amusing their team members. Toushi simply shook his head in a Kevin-ish manner, muttering something about 'rubbing off on each other'. The said white-haired Fudou freshman was glad that the others had some tact and didn't ask him questions regarding the previous night's incidents.
"Oi, Ryoma!!!" yelled someone from nearby as they settled around their own court. "Keigo! Minna!" called a voice, and heads turned to find a blonde head sprinting towards them followed by a more relaxed, nonchalant Team USA. (Well, except for the twins, because they were never nonchalant.) The team was sporting the traditional red, white and blue USA motto, and their jerseys look as grand and as expensive as the jerseys Keigo's men made for Team Japan. The US flag their convoy was waving behind them fluttered in sync with the Japanese flag Momoshiro and Taka were waving at the back.
Kevin screeched to a stop right before them, tugging Toushi—who had been standing offhandedly with Shinichi—towards him and slinging a friendly arm around the other boy's shoulders. "How's it going?"
"We just separated thirty minutes ago, Kevin," deadpanned Ryoma.
"So?!" Kevin huffed. "Doesn't mean I have no right to ask how it's going!"
Ryoma simply stuck his tongue out childishly at Kevin, who stuck his tongue out right back. Flashes of cameras went off, and Fuji chuckled. "You two are making quite the commotion. You've attracted people."
And so they found the tensai unfailingly correct. People were milling about, voices getting louder, and cheers getting higher. Fans already spotted the entrance of two already experienced circuit players—one of them a Wimbledon champion.
"He really is on Team Japan!"
"No! I want him on Team USA!"
"Mr. Echizen! Mr. Echizen, can we ask a question?"
"Look here, look here!"
"Mr. Smith, please face here—"
"Mr. Smith, is it true that you were—"
"Are you going against each other—"
"Why did you—"
"—different teams right now—"
Ryoma heaved a long, suffering sigh, nudging his father, who had just procured a set of shades and worked hard to cover his face. "Oi. Why are these media people allowed to do this?!"
"You know them, seishounen, they never follow protocol. They don't know the meaning of the word 'rules', and that makes them one of my most hated aspects of this circuit," grumbled an extremely uncomfortable Nanjiroh. "I'm camera shy!" he whimpered pathetically, making Ryoma's eyes roll in their sockets involuntarily. "Damn, seishounen, be thankful your daddy loves you this much to even accompany you to this godforsaken circuit I've vowed I'll never face again!!"
"Yes, yes, I love you too, daddy," Ryoma sighed, deadpanning. He was being intentionally sarcastic, but as he briefly thought about it, he figured his dad was saying the truth. After all, he more than anyone knew just how much Nanjiroh despised returning to the circuit scene. But the former pro did it for them—for him.
"Hmm," Inui said, flipping several pages back in his notebook. "So far, the foreign teams are as they're supposed to be, except for one. Team Russia seems to be missing one member. Curious."
"Heehh," Eiji thoughtfully said, looking around. "Where's Team Russia?"
"Over there, down by the green and maroon streamers," pointed Oshitari, adjusting his jersey. "They look pretty strong. Not strong enough to beat us, though."
"But of course!" Keigo said with utter confidence and overflowing arrogance. "Ore-sama will not lose to such unworthy people. Ore-sama will win no matter who or what ore-sama is against."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, we get it," Oshitari sighed, looking over to the side where the Russians were. There was a crowd of blood maroon-clad players—most probably the regular players—off to one side, and they looked like they were having some kind of prep talk with their tall, blonde coach. They were flocked with surrounding players who were wearing greens and whites with touches of maroons, standing tall and proud over the crowd.
"Uwah. They're tall…" ogled Eiji.
"Eiji! It's rude to stare!" admonished Oishi sharply, earning a pout from his doubles partner.
"Maa, that'll be their undoing," Fuji pointed out. "A bigger body needs more energy, and thus they have a shorter running time because their stamina reserve will run out faster. It's harder to move faster too because you have to handle the weight and size of your body with the speed."
"They might have done some kind of training to cope with it, though. I doubt the coaches chose them for nothing," pointed out Tachibana. "Overcoming stamina problems isn't impossible, as your acrobat might already know."
Eiji simply grinned and flashed double 'V' signs at them. "Bui, bui, P!"
"In any case, they'll still make good lab rats for me," Fuji smiled brilliantly, placing a hand on Ryoma's shoulder.
"…lab rats?" Eiji repeated.
"Un," nodded Fuji, still smiling. "Lab rats."
"Percentage of Fuji revealing a ninth Counter: 87 percent," muttered Inui under his breath.
"Heehh," Ryoma grinned. "So, Syuu-chan… you've been keeping some techniques up you sleeve?"
"Where's the fun in it if I don't?" shrugged Fuji, before glancing around as if searching for something. "Ne, Inui, what colors are for Team France?"
"If I'm not mistaken, they're the team on the opposite side of the courts from the Russians. Their designated colors were yellow and brown," answered Renji for his data partner, who was busy doing… something in his notebook.
"Hmm. I wonder if Uncle's coming," Fuji mused out loud, scanning the crowd. Truthfully enough, the French were wearing shades of yellow and brown and were flocking around with their—was that a cheering squad?—supporters. "He just might…"
"Oh, look, look, that bunch look strong!" Gakuto pointed, only to be reprimanded by Oshitari.
"That," Renji responded quickly, facing towards the said black-and-grey-clad players. "That is Team Romania. They're one of the teams from the small countries of Europe, but I heard they're pretty strong. Beside them," Renji continued, looking at the next flock of players. "That's Team UK in the royal blues and grays."
"Who're those?" asked Kirihara, nudging his head over to where a crowd of violet-clad players were standing. "And why the hell did they include violet as a color in this competition?" he added, apparently not in baby-mode today.
"Kind of reminds me of that ho who keeps on hogging my Yuuta-chan…" Fuji frowned, opening his ice blue eyes.
Kevin face faulted. "Don't tell me you want to fight them just because of that."
"Any opportunity to show my love to my Ryoma-chan and my Yuuta-chan will be taken and well-used," the tensai simply replied, missing Kevin's rolling eyes.
"They're Team Spain," Inui sighed. "And they insisted on the violet; don't ask me why."
"If you wanted a line-up of the players, you could've just said so, you know," pointed out Scott, handing them a paper that had the list of the teams and the colors, before jabbing his thumb behind him. "Those players behind us wearing steel blues, that's Team Germany. They're one of the big teams in on this."
"We don't really understand what you guys are saying—" chimed one of the twins; Rick or Ed, no one knew.
"—but we gather you're talking about the major teams?" chimed the other right after.
Those who understood nodded.
"Well, the major teams are basically the ones who have the most sponsors," started one of the twins.
"Right now, Team USA, Team UK, and Team France hold the top three spot."
"Team Japan stands around the eleventh spot when it comes to the number of independent sponsors—"
"—but you have more than enough tied sponsors like the Atobe Group of Companies Main District and Oshitari Security Corp., so you're probably—"
"—around the fourth spot in general."
"Team Germany comes right after you guys," reminded Elliot, who was smiling in a way frighteningly similar to Fuji and Yukimura. "Be careful with them; some of their members can be pretty… violent."
"If it's violence, Team Russia comes into the scene too,"pointed out Laurent.
"Is it true that the last team they encountered in their national selection was crippled?" asked Keigo, suddenly interested.
Raleigh nodded, sighing. "Half that team won't ever be able to play tennis again in their entire life. That Team Russia they selected—they're very dangerous."
"…nya, I don't really understand every word, but are they saying that Team Russia is dangerous?" Eiji asked no one in particular.
Ryoma nodded. "The twins were explaining the big wealthy teams based on the sponsors, and we are on fourth spot thanks to Keigo's and Yuushi's companies. Then Elliot was explaining about Team Germany, and how they can be violent. Then they were warning us about Team Russia," summarized Ryoma for those who were poor on English. He lifted his eyes to Eiji. "You've been studying up, haven't you, Eiji-senpai?"
Eiji grinned. "Bui! Of course!"
Ryoma simply chuckled, impressed at how fast they learned to comprehend and listen.
"May I have everyone's attention, please? Thank you." came a woman's voice over the loudspeakers, silencing the crowds. A hush descended on the entire court area as the fans stopped cheering to listen and the media and teams moved to their positions. Soon enough, every team was lined up with the Regulars up front, Reserves—if any—were behind them, and the non-team members were lined up neatly at the back and holding the banners. "Today, we're here to witness the opening ceremony for the International Amateur Junior Tennis Tournament organized by the International Tennis Federation. We're proud to showcase carefully scouted and selected blooming young players from all over the world and we are proud of them and their talents, which I'm sure everyone will have a chance to see later."
"Before we begin, let us hear some words from…"
Ryoma yawned—and didn't bother trying to hide it even if he was in the front row—as his eyes drooped, tuning out the boring speech. He could feel that his best partner-in-crime Kevin was doing the same—much to Scott's dismay and utter annoyance—but he knew that there was nothing within the speech anyway. It was just all pleasantries.
However, as he glanced at Tezuka and Fuji—who were dutifully flanking him like sentinels as usual—he noticed that both were listening faithfully like good little boys. Well, Fuji was selectively listening and half-playing with Ryoma's fingers—because they were still holding hands—while Tezuka was listening dutifully like the good captain he was. Keigo was—Ryoma face faulted—checking his reflection in a pocket mirror, while Yukimura was cooing at Kirihara openly.
He rolled his eyes.
Sanada-san and Kuni-bu, they're both like old men. Tachibana-san can already pass as my uncle or father!
He was wary of actually falling asleep as the old man on the stage droned on and on and on and on…
"Ryoma," nudged Fuji. "Ryoma."
"Huh…?" Ryoma groggily voiced, eyes snapping open. He realized that he'd actually fallen asleep standing as he noted the applause that was coming from the side of the Russian team. "Oops. Well, that was quick." He turned his ears to the woman who was now speaking again. "Where are we?"
"Introduction of the teams," Fuji said. "Team Russia was just introduced. It's almost us."
"Oh…" Ryoma muttered hazily, sighing and stretching his shoulder. "I see. Kevin and the bunch done yet?"
"No, not yet," Fuji replied. "They're right before us."
They looked up as applause rang from the crowd behind them, the team beside Kevin stepping up. The captain of Team Spain, a guy named Paulo Bautista, stepped up along with his team. Ryoma hummed contemplatively, comparing the size of Team USA and Team Japan's cheer squads. Keigo, he knew, had contracted people to cheer for both teams the earlier that morning after they'd selected the captain. He snorted as he recalled how they'd decided the captain for their team.
"We need to decide on a captain, seishounen-tachi," announced Nanjiroh as the crowd was gathered for one last meeting before setting off for ITF.
Silence descended upon the crowd.
This was one of those matters that just totally stumped them. Choosing between the Regulars—half of which were captains of their own respective teams—was not an easy task. If they were going for qualities, it would make decisions even harder to make. All of them were strong and responsible, good leaders with valuable experience.
"How about we try rock-paper-scissors?" suggested Eiji.
"Just flip a coin, for goodness' sake," yawned Jiroh. "Then let me sleep."
Silence.
"Ah, I knew you guys wouldn't be able to decide on the spot anyways, so…" Nanjiroh shrugged, pulling them all together. "…is it okay if I decide?"
The team looked at each other, before Ryoma shrugged and resumed clinging to Tezuka, who was consenting. "Too tiring. Takes toll on cuddle time. Not me."
"I'll step down from this one," Tachibana smiled. "I want the captain to be someone who understands all the workings better than I do. I'm still new with this."
Sanada bowed his head. "I'm stepping down as well."
Nanjiroh nodded. "I expected you guys to withdraw anyways, and we can't have Chitose-kun since he won't be here until tomorrow," sighed the coach. "Hmm, ja, no hard feelings on my decisions, okay? I thought this over ever since we arrived here, so… I've decided that there will be no vice captain, and the team will be having co-captaincy."
A wave of murmurs ran over the rest of them as the team members remained silent.
"Fuji-kun, Yukimura-kun," Nanjiroh said, before grinning.
"FUJIKO AND YUKI-SAN?!" Eiji screeched.
"Are you barking mad, oyaji?" asked Ryoma, raising both eyebrows. "No single opposing team will walk out of the courts alive if we do that!"
"Hmm, I'm not finished yet," sang Nanjiroh. "Fuji-kun and Yukimura-kun, I'm sorry, but you two will have to stand down for that same exact reason Ryoma stated. I'm choosing Tezuka-kun and Kei-chan to be co-captains, and I expect you to share your duties. Properly. PEACEFULLY."
Silence once again washed over them.
Without even looking at each other, Fuji and Yukimura both stepped backwards. "We're okay with that," they both said simultaneously with conceding smiles that curiously enough sent shivers crawling down their spines. Nanjiroh had a feeling that even though he didn't declare them captains, they would find a way to get what they wanted more than half the time.
Ryoma snuggled against Tezuka. "Kuni-bu is still Kuni-bu."
"I'll do my best," Tezuka acquiesced.
"Ore-sama does not fail, therefore ore-sama will not fail," Keigo smirked, tempting Ryoma into kicking the Atobe heir.
And as such, their captains were decided.
Ryoma personally thought that his Kuni-bu was enough, but well, what was done was done. He hadn't wanted to inflate Keigo's already inflated head, but apparently, Nanjiroh had other ideas. Maa, that's fine. He'll come in useful for the public relations and the fan service stuff. And the media. He can handle the media.
"Our next team is sponsored by the Atobe Group of Companies, Oshitari Security Corp., Bell, Hilton USA, Microsoft, Onasis Foundation, Verizon, Yonex, Concierge, and AT&T. Independent sponsors wish remain unnamed. Led by Team Captain Kevin Smith, 2007 Rolland Garros Champion and 2007 Australian Open Champion. Please welcome Team USA!"
A tremendous cheer arose from the stands, the rumbling voices of a few thousand people deafening as it descended over the players. Screams of frenzy erupted from a corner where fangirls seem to have gathered together to fortify themselves. Suddenly, Ryoma felt that the teams' applauses were tiny. There was a cheering squad chanting the traditional cheer for Team USA—how it went, Ryoma already forgot and had no intentions of remembering just yet—but they were half-drowned in the huge welcome.
Kevin raised his hand and chuckled as the cameras started flashing. "Here we go with the smiling again."
"Bear with it," Scott sighed.
The cheers slowly died down as the woman spoke again.
"The next team comes from the Far Eastern corner of the world. This team is sponsored by a hefty number of independent sponsors who wish to remain unnamed and by the Atobe Group of Companies, Oshitari Security Corp., Concierge International, Epson, Enix, Mitsubishi, Nikkon, Yonex, Shiseido, and Pioneer. They are led by Co-Captains Tezuka Kunimitsu, professional junior tennis player from ITF Japan, and Atobe Keigo, professional junior tennis from ITF Japan and heir to the Atobe Group of Companies Main District, and they have 2007 Wimbledon Champion and 2006 US Open Champion Echizen Ryoma as one of their aces. Please welcome Team Japan!"
Keigo and Tezuka simultaneously stepped up with the team, the former raising his hand and snapping his fingers.
Instantly, the extraneous lights shut down as the remaining lights isolated Team Japan in the front and center. Red and orange petals rained as deafening screams from fans thundered over them. Somewhere in the background, a tango song was going, and it seemed faintly familiar to Ryoma's ears, but he just couldn't place it.
Ryoma was tempted to think that their fans from Japan were here as well, since he could hear the traditional school cheers from the background voices. Some fangirls were chanting the Hyotei and Seigaku cheers translated into English. Behind them, Taka-san and Momoshiro hefted two large Japanese flags and started waving them around with the falling petals.
"Ore-sama-tachi no bigi ni…" Keigo started, running his hand through his hair, before flipping it back. "…yoi na."
"ATOBE-SAMAAAAA!!"
"Ryomaaaaa!!"
"Keiiigoooo!!"
"The winner will be Atobe!! The winner will be Atobe!!"
"The winner will be Atobe! The winner will be Atobe!"
"Fight-o, Team Japan, fight-o, fight-o!!"
Eiji's eyes bulged. "Unyaa… Atobe has a cheering squad in the US?!"
Oishi chuckled faintly in discomfort as the spotlights rested on them. Momoshiro and Taka, however, were very busy with the flags.
Ryoma scowled in annoyance, grudgingly admitting, "Saru-sama's annoyingly good at picking slaves to chant for him, see." He continued straining his ear over the cheers to listen to the tango song. He turned to Keigo and tugged at the older player's jersey to rip said player's attention from the fans and from himself. "Oi. What song is that?"
Keigo smiled surreptitiously. "Don't you remember the song we danced to when we were little, Ryoma-chan?"
Ryoma's face remained blank for a few seconds, before turning absolutely beet red. He rushed to Fuji and clung, heedless of the eyes turned to them. He didn't want to remember that incident, and as such, he tuned out Keigo's chuckling.
"Isn't that the song…?" Sanada started, glancing at Keigo.
"Yes, that was the song at the opera house back in middle school," nodded Keigo, smirking. "Brings back old memories, doesn't it?"
Sanada simply chuckled. Fuji chuckled along as the fans continued chanting even after the lights went back on. The woman on stage chuckled in bemusement. "Well, that was quite an introduction."
Soon enough, the introductions were finished, and the captains had finished greeting each other. Yuri Riazanov of Team Russia, Gustave Fulke of Team Germany, Niculai Stavrache of Team Romania, and a few others among Tezuka and Keigo filed into the small conference room by the stage to hold a meeting with the teams, the organizers, and the coaches.
"Tachibana," Tezuka prompted.
Tachibana nodded. "Go ahead. I'll take care of the stuff over here."
With that Tezuka and Keigo followed along with Nanjiroh, disappearing into the crowd of other players flocking around. Kevin sprinted after them, tugging along a harassed Scott and leaving the rest behind to wait.
"What do we do now?" voiced Gakuto.
"We wait and observe," Inui answered, flipping open his notebook and starting to scout people.
"Sadaharu," Renji started.
"Hmm?"
"How large a percentage is it that they're talking about something important in that private family dinner?" asked Renji.
"…97.46 percent."
"Wrong."
"Hmm?"
"It's 97.48."
"Oh? My bad."
Inui continued writing in his notebook, eyeglasses glinting as it caught the light from Renji's laptop.
Echizen Rinko, Ryoma's mother, had arrived about an hour or so earlier, and as such, the Echizen family decided to have a private family dinner with the Atobes, who were, for once, all at home. Oshitari Yuushi, for some reason they suspected was related to him being an heir of a company as well, was invited along. Ryoga was out that night, so Ryoma had agreed to go to dinner provided that he was spoiled mad with the ice cream that he'd been wanting to eat but was forbidden to because of their training diet.
Right now, they were inside their rooms—Renji had moved in after Kaidoh moved out—and they were both perplexed as to what important matter the two families had to discuss. Surely there was something, since Oshitari, who wasn't family (as far as they knew), was in it as well.
And, as usual, the two data players were vexed with the answer—or lack thereof.
"Renji," started Inui.
"Hmm?"
"How large a percentage is it that we'll succeed investigation if we try hacking into the system?" asked Inui.
"…66.78 percent."
"Wrong."
"Hmm?"
"It's 66.76."
"Oh? My bad."
The keys tapped. The pencil scratched.
Silence.
The two data players glanced at each other.
"Let's do it?"
"Let's do it."
Thirty minutes later…
"Inui-san. Renji-san!" knocked Choutarou as they passed the rooms. He had been on his way with the rest of Hyoutei—minus Jiroh, who was most probably sleeping somewhere—to the dining hall. "Dinnertime!"
"What are they doing, I wonder," Gakuto thought out loud, grabbing the doorknob. "Awfully quiet."
He pushed the door open, and came upon a curious sight. Wires and cords were scattered on the floor, and were coming somewhere from the far wall. A camera was dismantled on one of the two beds, and two laptops were connected together on the other. Inui was fiddling with one of the red and blue wires, while Renji was typing like mad.
"…what are you two doing?!" Gakuto screeched.
No reply.
"Hey. Someone's talking here," Gakuto deadpanned.
No reply.
"OI!" yelled Gakuto, throwing a pillow that was nearby at Inui's head. The genius was too busy concentrating on the wires that he didn't see the pillow coming. "Talk to me!"
"Huh? Oh. Sorry. I was busy," Inui said, looking up at them as he righted his glasses that had been knocked askew.
"Obviously," snorted Hiyoshi.
"Was there anything you wanted?" Renji asked, now back into the world of the living as well. "We're busy here."
"Well sor-ry," Gakuto scoffed. "In any case, it's dinnertime."
"…Renji-san, are you hacking into the manor's systems?!" exclaimed Shishido, who had somehow stepped his way through the confusion and was now crouching by the free laptop and viewing the cascading numbers.
"What?!" "Ehh?!" "Renji-san!!" triple exclamations came.
Inui adjusted his glasses, peering at Shishido curiously. "You recognized it?"
Shishido looked over to Inui, before returning his eyes to the screen. "I know how to hack a bit. Not as much as this, but I know the basics. But… this… why are you…?"
"Aren't you curious about that private dinner?" Inui raised an eyebrow. "We wanted to spy, but this will take quite long… they might be finished already…"
"Tch, you want to spy?" snorted an incredulous Gakuto. "That's easy."
Eyes landed on him.
He grinned.
Jiroh yawned as he led the small group into his room, Inui and Renji carrying their respective notebooks and laptops. Gakuto, Kabaji, and Hiyoshi were giving Shishido and Choutarou, who were beginning the lovey-dovey syndrome again, some space. On their way there, they've acquired a few more people—Kikumaru, Kirihara, Marui, and Niou, who wanted to be included in their little mission, and by extension, Oishi, Jackal, and Yagyuu.
"Inui, are you sure we should be doing this…?" Oishi worriedly started, but was cut off by his doubles partner, who scoffed.
"Come on, aibou!" bounced Eiji, as high as ever. "This is like a once in a lifetime opportunity to find out ochibi and Atobe's secrets, nya!!"
"Aren't you curious yourself, Oishi-san?" asked Kirihara. "Admit it."
"Admit it, admit it!!" Eiji pushed, nudging Oishi.
Oishi sputtered.
"For the sake of data and information, we must do this, Oishi," Inui replied silently, following a groggy Jiroh dutifully.
"This is good bribing information," Kirihara chuckled darkly, eyes glinting. The rest of them drew away from him, weary of the emerging demon side. "Sei-chan will be glad if I bring worthy information."
"How did you know about the wall, anyway?" asked Jiroh blearily as he opened the door that connected his room to Keigo's chambers.
"Yuushi mentioned something about it one time," Gakuto shrugged.
"Hmmm…" Jiroh nodded, leading them quickly to the small living area where there was a huge wall with something that looked like vector print art. Jiroh picked up one of the numerous remotes by the sofa-side table, pressed a button, collapsed on the loveseat, and promptly started snoring.
"O-Oi, what are we supposed to—" Gakuto started, but shut his mouth as the huge wall-sized vector art disappeared into a black screen. "It wasn't a painting…?"
The black screen came to life, and it divided itself into cubes that showed the security camera footages all over the house by floor. Renji picked up the remote from Jiroh's hand and examined it for a bit, before pressing several buttons. The screen flickered and then changed to show the east patio.
"No, not that one, this one!" Inui sighed, pressing a different button.
It showed the dining room.
"Not that one either."
The lounge.
"This?"
The tennis courts.
"No—"
The ballroom.
"Give me—"
Sanada napping with a Yukimura plushie.
Pause.
"Carrot-top, you did it wrong!"
"Who the hell are you calling carrot-top?!"
"E-Eiji!!"
Nanjiroh giggling over a porn—erm, a gay porn magazine.
Pause.
"Let's pretend we didn't just see that for the sake of our sanities."
"It's this button!"
"No, not that, this one—"
Yagyuu snatched the remote from the two geniuses' hands and pressed a button. "It's this one, baka."
The screen flickered to show the west private patio, where the two families plus Yuushi were dining.
"…"
Ryoma hummed as he slowly started demolishing his dessert: a huge generous bowl of macchiato and caramel ice cream with dollops of chocolate syrup and sprinkles of cherries and a strawberry on top. Deftly his tongue darted to lick his spoon clean, savoring the full taste of the addicting lump of calories and sugar. Beside him, Keigo was in heaven with the heavenly specialty sweets courtesy of their best confectioners.
They—that is, him, Keigo, Oshitari, Rinko, Nanjiroh, Yukiko, and Miyagi—were sitting around a round table fit for them out in the open west lounge private upper patio. Rinko had arrived earlier that night, and they had settled for a private family dinner affair. Of course, the other players were curious about it; in fact, it had taken some severe—and let's not mention how severe—persuasion from Tezuka to make Fuji let Ryoma out of sight. However, the respect for their coach and the elderly overrode their curiosity—which was a rare thing, unfortunately—and as such, they were left alone for some peace.
"How nostalgic," sighed Yukiko. "I remember, long ago we used to have these private dinners as well. It's too bad Yuushi-chan's the only one of the Oshitari family here right now."
Oshitari sighed, dabbing his lips gently with the napkin. "Mother sends her regards, Yukiko-obaa-san, Rinko-obaa-san. She says she wants to meet up with you one time. I think she'll be in Venice in about two weeks from today, when she'll have some off time."
The ladies tittered, and Miyagi took his turn to talk to the Oshitari heir. "Yuushi-kun, how is your father doing? I heard the business is going well. You're now the leading security company in the running, from the last I've heard. Congratulations."
"Thank you," nodded Oshitari. "My father, as usual, is working his brows off and spoiling my mother with Louis Vuitton and Prada."
"Ah, same as usual Junko-chan, ne," smiled Rinko in remembrance of another one of her girlfriends.
"Same as usual Tanaka too," snorted Nanjiroh, shaking his head. "You tell that father of yours to stop spoiling Junko so much, Yuushi-kun. Who knows, one day he might run out."
"Ah, now I doubt that," chuckled Miyagi.
Yukiko took a dainty sip of her cocktail, before catching the portrait that was hanging on the wall. A smile lit her face. "Ah, yes. I believe it's time to have another portrait done. It is almost Keigo's coming of age. Don't you think it's a good idea, anata?" she smiled, turning to Miyagi, who wisely kept his mouth shut.
Immediately, Yuushi, Nanjiroh, and Miyagi drew away from the conversation. They knew where this was heading, and that 'where' was somewhere dangerous.
As expected, Ryoma choked on his ice cream, reaching for the nearest glass of water and downing it. "As if sa—Kei needs another hulking portrait of himself," he grumbled, catching himself in mid-insult and reminding himself that he was forbidden to call Keigo 'saru-sama' in front of their parents.
Yukiko turned to Ryoma with a predatory gleam in her eye. "Oh? Is Ryoma-chan jealous?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Her mouth slightly turned upwards, eyes twinkling ominously as she turned to Rinko, who had a similar look painted on her face. "Then it should be a joint portrait for both of them. It's about time they've had another done, isn't it?"
Rinko's expression turned into something that was gleeful and bordering on utter heaven. "I think you have a very wonderful point, Yuko-chan. Ryoma looks sooo wonderful when Kei-chan dolls—ahh—dresses him up…"
Ryoma huffed in his corner, pouting and crossing his arms cutely. "I'm not a doll!" he exclaimed huffily, eyes agleam. However, his sniffling destroyed the scowl that he was trying to put on his face.
The ladies both looked at him, silently, regarding him with level, deadpanned stares, before turning back to each other without a comment as if Ryoma's statement was something that was not worth their attention.
"…and while Kei-chan provides me with hundreds of pictures of Ryoma," Rinko continued. "The ones with the both of them are few," she smirked, turning to Keigo to tease. "I more than suspect Keigo guards those jealously somewhere."
Keigo's ears turned slightly red as he struggled to maintain a straight face, failing miserably as he stammered incoherently and blushed furiously, obviously flustered.
Ryoma angrily turned to the Atobe heir and indignantly started, "You—"
Yukiko's voice, however, cut them off as the ladies continued to ignore them. "Why yes, Katsura-san just purchased another photo tome for Keigo. I suppose that's where they go."
Keigo, horrified and embarrassed, exclaimed, "Mother!"
And he was ignored.
Yukiko continued heedlessly, "That's why we need to have a nice portrait of them to accompany their other one in the west family ro—"
"NOOO!!" Ryoma yelled suddenly, making the three other men (Miyagi, Nanjiroh, and Oshitari) jump in surprise. Nanjiroh was pretty sure the yell reached downstairs. The Seigaku freshman started whining, "Moooooom!!"
And he was ignored.
"Oooh, Ryoma was so pretty in that one!" Rinko crooned, stars in her eyes. "I was sooo disappointed when he was born a boy. I wanted a girl so much!" the mother continued, shooting a sharp glare to Nanjiroh as if blaming her husband, who cringed and inched away. ("Ladies are best left alone when in moods like these.")
"Although he looked very much like a royal princess with that beautiful kimono on and Keigo-chan—ahh, always dashing in suits!! They looked like they were made for each other, deshou?" Rinko practically squealed.
Yukiko nodded fervently, bouncing in her seat like a child who'd found a new play doll. "I would have definitely pursued a union between our families through marriage had Ryoma been a girl. He makes such a beautiful bridesmaid. I'm sure that he would have made an absolutely breathtaking bride!!"
Keigo groaned in absolute mortification that was beyond words. He sank against his chair, receiving sympathetic stares from Nanjiroh and Miyagi, but still managed to maintain his Atobe grace. However, his Atobe grace did not prevent the obvious embarrassment reflected in his flushed face, which trailed even further down his collar.
Rinko continued after Yukiko, eyes sparkling in absolute delight. "Ooooh, and they would have such beautiful children!!" she cooed, making Ryoma and Keigo freeze in their seats. She turned towards Yukiko again. "Say, Yuko-chan, don't you have a company that deals with technology, specifically with genetic engineering?" she asked, and continued at the excited nod from Yukiko. "I wonder if you would—"
"MOM!" "MOTHER!"
Both Keigo and Ryoma yelled out in utter humiliation at the presented idea. If they weren't blushing from head to toe before, now they were glowing a brilliant firecracker red.
And they were ignored.
Yukiko clapped her hands in absolute glee, this time really bouncing in her seat (with the Atobe finesse, of course). "Oh, what a wonderful idea!! I shall get them started as soon as—"
"I'm not—" "He's not—"
"He's not—" "I'm not—"
"We're not—" "We're not—"
Keigo and Ryoma both paused, looking at each other for a whole solid second, before releasing simultaneous similar shudders.
"I AM NOT SLEEPING WITH HIM!!" they shrieked at the same time, pointing accusatory fingers at each other as they erupted out of their seats.
Several birds erupted from their nests nearby.
Silence.
Yuushi mildly commented, "It's not like you two don't have enough estrogen to make a baby. I think it'll work just fine." And the Oshitari heir immediately found himself pinned by two patented deathly glares.
But like it was with the matrons, they were ignored.
Yukiko fanned herself with her hand, breezily saying, "What are you talking about, Kei-chan, Ryo-chan? From what I hear from Katsura-san, you've reverted back to sleeping with each other before you came back here in the US."
Keigo and Ryoma both erupted in similar protests, spluttering. "It's not what you think—"
Yuushi inputted again, drawling dryly, "Me thinks the ladies doth protest too much."
Ryoma and Keigo hotly turned to him, Ryoma hissing and frothing like a cat as he was pushed over the edge and Keigo freezing everything within a five-meter radius (figuratively speaking, of course).
And they were ignored.
Rinko nodded sagely, continuing, "And when they're not, Ryoma's in the connected room right next to Keigo's like it always has been whenever they're in the same house so that he can sleep with Keigo whenever he gets his nightmares—"
"MOM, I WON'T HAVE SEX WITH HIM!!" Ryoma all but screeched (in a very girly fashion, but let's leave that out).
Rinko frowned at her son. "I don't think Keigo would be all that bad when it comes to making love, Ryoma. In fact, I imagine Keigo to be quite adept in that area, given that he's very… ahh, thorough and especially caring towards you—"
Ryoma and Keigo both spluttered again. "MOM!" "BAA-SAN!"
Yukiko nodded wisely. "That's right. Atobe men are… very well versed in that area," she smiled, turning a predatory gaze on Miyagi, who froze in his spot. "If I do say so myself."
"And if Ryoma's got that Echizen gene," Rinko continued, turning to Keigo. "Which no doubt he has, seeing that he's just about as stubborn as his dear father, he's bound to be a… hmm, a glutton when it comes to these things," she nodded, before turning to Ryoma and smiling sweetly. "See now, Ryoma dearest? You have nothing to worry about."
Ryoma deflated and whimpered pitifully, clutching his seat. "Oh ground, please swallow me now," he whinged, mentally calling out for his Syuu-chan and Kuni-bu to save him from the hell he was going through.
Yuushi assumed the 'Atobe-mode' and with a puffing sneer, he said, "Ore-sama can assure you that no ground which an Atobe graces his presence upon is weak enough to crumble beneath him."
Both the other teens' voices simultaneously rose in crescendo. "YUUSHI, SHUT UP!"
And all the while, Nanjiroh and Miyagi stayed in the sidelines, careful to keep to themselves for safety. "Women…" sighed the two, shaking their heads and burying them to their after-meal alcoholic beverage.
Silence blanketed over the small crowd of people ogling the screen and blinking their eyes repeatedly as if not believing what they'd heard. Jaws hung wide open in mixtures of surprise, utter shock, and complete mortification at the images that were forming in their heads.
"…I'm glad…" started Kirihara, gulping audibly. "…that neither of those two women is my mother."
"...shouldn't we tell Fuji-san and Tezuka-san about this?" asked Choutarou.
Eyes snapped to him, and in sudden frenzy, everyone yelled, "NO!"
Tezuka sneezed lightly inside their rooms, rubbing his nose. He shifted in the big red squashy armchair he was sitting in, holding the huge tome in his lap steady with one hand as he continued reading. Beside him on the bed, Fuji looked up.
"You're not catching a cold, are you, Kunimitsu?" asked Fuji silently, crawling over and abandoning his portfolio he was trying to arrange in favor of his boyfriend. He reached over to Tezuka and placed a soft hand on the captain's forehead while he placed the other on his own forehead, comparing the temperatures. While it was very possible that the captain was breaking under stress or overworking himself, Fuji knew that Tezuka took care of himself very well because of the responsibilities said player carried on his shoulders.
"I'm fine, Syuusuke," sighed Tezuka, settling the book down to a more comfortable position and adjusting his glasses. "Just a bit of the book dust, I guess."
Fuji smiled. "I keep on telling you to let the maids air out the books first before you filch them from the library to read away," the tensai chuckled, brushing back Tezuka's hair gently and affectionately. "You might get some sort of inf—"
"KUNI-BU!" yelled a very familiar voice in tandem with the slam of the opening door.
Fuji's head swiveled around with Tezuka, only to find a flying Ryoma flinging himself towards the direction of the mentioned captain. Tezuka, anticipating the younger teen, placed his book away to prevent serious damage, before deftly catching the flying Ryoma. The captain blinked, suddenly sporting a lapful of a very… for the lack of word, weird Ryoma.
"Kuni-bu!" Ryoma crooned, latching onto Tezuka like a leech and wrapping his arms and legs around the captain, making sure skin to skin contact was plentiful. Ryoma started snuggling and rubbing and wiggling, as if he was an animal trying to get his mate's scent all over himself. "Kuni-bu, Kuni-bu, Kuni-buuuuuu!! My Kuni-bu!! Kuni-kuni-kuni-bu!!"
"Ryo-chan…?" Fuji voiced, raising an eyebrow, wanting to chuckle but hesitating in fear of upsetting the… erm, weird Ryoma.
Tezuka placed a hand on Ryoma's lower back. "Kitten, is there anything wrong?"
Ryoma vehemently muttered something against Tezuka's shirt, but to his two boyfriends, his words were as clear as day. "I won't have babies with Keigo even if he's great at sex!"
Silence.
Birds chirping.
Silence.
"E-Eh…?"
Ryoma scowled darkly at the confounded captain, ignoring Fuji's very sharp stare that was asking—no, demanding—for an explanation. "I. Am. Not. Making. Babies. With. Keigo. No. Matter. How. Great. He. Is. At. Blowing. Or. How. Bloody. Wonderful. At. BANGING. PEOPLE!!" he enunciated, his voice escalating to a shout gradually until the end.
Tezuka's eyes narrowed as he half caught up, stiffening. "So you've slept with Atobe."
Ryoma sniffed dryly, blinking. "I've just said I'm not going to."
Tezuka pursed his lips tersely. "So you have slept with him."
Ryoma scowled again. "Of course, I've been sleeping with him for a long time now, and we've been together since we were kids," Ryoma pointed out.
There was a pregnant pause.
Then, Ryoma's eyes widened as he caught on to what Tezuka was hinting at. "NO, I BLOODY HAVEN'T HAD SEX WITH HIM!"
Pause.
"…oh," Tezuka blinked.
Ryoma grumbled. "And they say I was the slow one," he muttered, snuggling his head under Tezuka's chin. He proceeded purring in pleasure as Fuji started kneading down his back with gentle, knowledgeable hands. "Shiiiiaaaatsuuuuu…."
Momoshiro stuck his tongue out as he tried to pull out a block from the bottom of the quite tall tower they've built. Yukimura had procured a Jenga set, and now him, Sanada, Tachibana, Kaidoh, Kamio, and Shinji were all trying to outdo each other in the game. Of course, as expected, Yukimura was winning (being the only one who still haven't lost a game), seconded by Tachibana, who was tying with Sanada. Him and Kaidoh were on ties after them, while Kamio and Shinji were doing their own battle with their scores.
He tried to stop the quiver in his fingers as he grabbed one of the blocks from the middle part and slowly eased it out.
And down it goes.
"Arrrgh!" Momoshiro groaned in frustration, tugging at his hair.
Yukimura giggled. "You've lost two games in a row now, Momo-chan," the Rikkai captain quipped, popping another one of those chocolates that seemed to lie scattered around the manor haphazardly.
"I can't believe Yuki-san still hasn't lost even just one game!" Momoshiro exclaimed loudly.
"Fssssh… as expected of Yukimura-san," Kaidoh muttered, rearranging the blocks. He himself had only lost one game, and he hoped he wouldn't lose anymore.
After all, the one who'd lose over all would be in… uhm, a very embarrassing situation indeed.
Just then, Fuji, Tezuka, and Ryoma all traipsed down the stairs—well, Fuji and Tezuka did, seeing that Ryoma was latched onto Tezuka as usual—and made a beeline for the squashy couch near them. Fuji slunk around them, never letting go of Tezuka's hand. "Oooo, Jenga. I'll assume Seiichi-kun is winning?"
Simultaneous groans erupted from Kamio and Momoshiro, and a chuckle rose from a relaxed Tachibana, proving Fuji's suspicions.
Fuji smiled. "How about a showdown, Seiichi-kun?" offered Fuji. "Just between you and me."
Yukimura looked up, regarding Fuji with a level stare as silence descended upon the group. It was rare, after all, to see a showdown between the two deadly geniuses. It wasn't a tennis showdown (which is, no doubt, what they'd have preferred), but it was a showdown nonetheless.
"Syuu-chan, ganbatte ne," Ryoma's voice floated from where he was comfortably snuggled against a silent Tezuka. "If Syuu-chan wins, kitten will give Syuu-chan a thousand kitty kisses."
Fuji's smile widened.
However, before they could start any game, one of the maids approached Ryoma and Tezuka. "Echizen-san, you left your tennis bag out here earlier when you got home," she explained, handing him the bulging tennis bag. Ryoma, however, showed no signs of letting go of Tezuka, nor even just recognizing that somebody was talking to him.
The maid sweat dropped.
"Hora, Ryoma, she's talking to you properly," Tezuka admonished gently, only to receive a half-coherent murmur and a slight snuggle wiggle.
Tezuka paused, before sighing and looking up at the maid apologetically. "I'm sorry about this. He's a bit… well… you know."
The maid nodded in an understanding manner as Fuji took the bag from her with a thankful bow. "I'll be leaving you sirs, then. If ever you need anything, please let me know." With that, the maid bowed her way out of the room, leaving them with Ryoma's forgotten tennis bag.
Fuji set the bag down by the sofa's side, turning back to Yukimura. Ryoma, who finally bothered actually moving from Tezuka's embrace, reached over for his bag. "What's this?" he said, calling everyone's attention.
He pulled out a small envelope from the slip pocket on the back of the bag, examining it. "Nothing on it," he muttered, before shrugging. He slit the corner and pulled out a piece of paper—
"AH!"
He dropped the envelope, which fell to the floor dully, the paper from inside floating down much slower. Eyes widened at the single word written on the floating piece of paper—with what looked like dried blood—and the fresh droplets of blood that was staining the two pieces of paper.
Ryoma clutched his bleeding finger, eyeing the sharp blade that was hidden inside the envelope as it glinted under the light.
'DIE.'
Tsuzuku
(Revised Version)
Let's call it a day for now. It's 12.25 AM. I have school tomorrow. I have to wake up at nine, and it's three hours of math, PLUS homework, which will be more or less a hundred or so items for the two sections we're covering.
So I'll take my leave.
Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria
First Publication Version: 06.07.07
First Revision Version: 06.07.07
