Part Fourteen: Never Easy Part 1
© 2010 Gold
Title: Beyond: A Tribute
Part Fourteen
Author: Gold
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of Prince of Tennis . It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.
Author's note: There is a Morton's The Steakhouse in Cincinnati.
Part Fourteen
It was never going to be easy.
Tezuka Kunimitsu woke at half-past seven in the morning to the news that while he was sleeping, his official supporters' club had apparently declared open rebellion against his management, and he was being bombarded with requests for comments, accusations of having orchestrated it somehow, and demands as to whether he really, truly, had split from his management – because certainly all signs pointed to it.
It made for an absolutely fabulous start to the day.
"Don't get drawn into this," Atobe Keigo warned him. "We don't have the time. In any event, your supporters know what they're doing – let them handle their issues with the management." We have other priorities.
"Keep me updated," Tezuka answered coolly. "I'll leave the issue alone for the moment – but I want it to be played down as much as possible. It's only a news item because of me."
Atobe nodded in agreement, but followed up with a sharp look. "Taking control?"
Tezuka met the look unflinchingly. "I let things go on for too long."
Atobe chuckled. "Well said, Tezuka. I look forward to our continuing... partnership."
Things moved on from thence at breakneck speed.
By nine a.m., the Association of Men's Tennis Professionals had announced a panel to hear Tezuka Kunimitsu's case. The hearing was scheduled to take place the following Tuesday, behind closed doors.
The pressure was on. To underestimate the issues facing them would have been fatal. But the enormity of what they had set out to do did not properly sink in, at least not until they were confronted with the ten thousand and one demands from the lawyers, auditors and the media and public relations people. If all their lives they had never believed in the word impossible, or had refused to let it form part of their vocabulary, or had naively thought that pure belief in themselves would get them through – well, this proved to be a very rude wake-up call.
By ten in the morning, it seemed that everyone was fast approaching breaking point. Everyone, that is, except the lawyers, auditors and media and public relations people, who were still gleefully barrelling ahead at top speed.
The lawyers had arrived about half an hour ahead of schedule, fresh off the plane, and had insisted on seeing Tezuka immediately. Nothing was sacrosanct as far as they were concerned and although they professed to be huge fans of Tezuka, it didn't get in the way of the grilling to which they subjected Tezuka – unsentimental, intense and extremely meticulous. Atobe observed matters from a discreet corner of the room, and if he left the room now and then to see for himself how the rest of the world was getting along in his absence, nobody noticed.
Like the lawyers, the auditors had hit the ground running. They had their orders: piece together a coherent paper trail with respect to the players' financial assets, and match the outflow and claims to the instances of misappropriated funds mentioned in the thick investigative report. It was a challenge made more difficult by the fact that only Tezuka Kunimitsu, Sanada Genichirou and Kaidoh Kaoru kept their papers in some semblance of order. The rest of the players, on the other hand, maintained their records in varying degrees of disarray, and found themselves being harried, also in varying degrees, by lists of requests for missing documents. To complicate matters, the auditors in Cincinnati were working in tandem with their counterparts in Tokyo, who were sifting through even more records that had been obtained from the boys' families back in Japan. It was like trying to fit together a jigsaw puzzle— except that nobody knew how many pieces were in the puzzle, and where the pieces were, not to mention the fact that the people trying to put it together were separated by an ocean and several time zones in between.
The media and public relations people had already started work; they were at the frontline, parrying the thrusts of the media queries and whispered public opinions, crafting little statements that surfed through the high crests of the media waves and through to the calmer waters beyond. They worked from one of the smaller meeting rooms in the Westin Cincinnati, sandwiched between the lawyers' war room and the auditors' data room. They were discreet and street-smart, used to handling matters like this, and they had their thumbs on the pulse of the news cycle regarding Tezuka's scandal.
The clock ticked the hours away.
When they broke for lunch at noon, it was a veritable group of zombies who staggered into a private dining room at Morton's The Steakhouse for lunch.
"Accountants are monsters," Kirihara Akaya mumbled, stabbing his fork into a slice of beef and then taking large bites out of it. "They keep asking me stuff about my money... they're supposed to help me find it, not ask me where it is."
"They have to ask you first because it's your money and your bank accounts," Yukimura Seiichi remarked. He was still looking somewhat pale and peaked, but his eyes had a healthy sparkle in them. "My sympathy lies with Tezuka – the lawyers were very thorough with him." He gave Tezuka, who was seated across the table from him, a compassionate smile.
Tezuka returned it with a wry smile of his own.
Kirihara's steak created a diversion at that moment by falling off his fork and landing with a soft thump on his plate, which responded with a comical little wiggle on the tablecloth.
"Perhaps you should cut it into little pieces first? So that it's easier to manage?" Yukimura suggested, amused.
Kirihara paused. "I know that… but it's more fun this way."
Yukimura smiled fondly at Kirihara. "Have it your way, then."
Kirihara beamed. He stabbed his steak again and bit into it. "This is really good!"
"I like Kobe beef better," murmured Ibu Shinji, staring intently at his plate. "Kobe marbled beef is really delicious, although I've only eaten it once, because the best Kobe beef is so expensive, and it's got streaks of fat all over, so I'm not allowed to eat it as it's bad for my diet, but this beef doesn't look fatty, so it should be all right, although it's not as good as Kobe beef, since Japanese beef is the best, and it's such a pity America doesn't have Kobe beef—"
"I take it that our regular nutritionists have all been put out to pasture," Yukimura murmured in an aside to Sanada Genichirou.
"Renji says that he and Inui Sadaharu approved the menu," responded Sanada. "It will not interfere with the new training system that they are putting in place."
Yukimura's eyebrow twitched. "You won't hear me complaining about eating top-grade beef." He eyed his plate doubtfully. "This is probably not going to happen again, given the cost. Tezuka—"
Tezuka glanced up.
Yukimura met Tezuka's eyes. "We'll need to have a talk with Atobe, soon. And not just about the cost."
Tezuka gave a barely perceptible nod.
"Does Atobe have any news?" Yukimura asked.
"Not that I'm aware of," Tezuka answered briefly.
"What about the NTAJ investigation into the treasurer's office for embezzlement?" Yukimura prodded.
"No new development so far," replied Tezuka simply.
Yukimura began carving up his steak. "It gives us reason to believe that our management has been stealing money from us."
Sanada entered the conversation. "That was what Atobe meant, by taking care of the breach of contract issues?" He looked at Tezuka. "That our management breached the contract first – not us."
Tezuka nodded.
"So he must have known, somehow, before all this happened," Yukimura said slowly. "Then he engaged the investigators to collect proof…" Yukimura's voice trailed off.
"… and then all this happened," Tezuka finished quietly.
Silence fell.
"We will see Atobe after this," Sanada said emphatically.
Now the atmosphere was heavy, weighed down with things unsaid and undone, and things yet to come. They ate in silence, punctuated by clinks of cutlery and crockery, each apparently wrapped in his own thoughts, none willing to break the silence.
–At least until it was unexpectedly shattered by none other than Kirihara.
"Niou-sempai stole Atobe-san's best wine," announced Kirihara suddenly and irrelevantly through a mouthful of beef. "Broke into the wine cabinet and everything. Isn't Niou-sempai totally cool?"
The heaviness in the atmosphere splintered into a million little pieces.
Kaidoh Kaoru choked.
Tezuka blinked.
Ibu Shinji accidentally swept a forkful of mashed potatoes on to the tablecloth.
Yukimura made a strange sound which sounded a little bit like a snort of laughter.
Sanada's hand jerked and his fork made a screeching sound as it scratched across the plate.
Echizen Ryoma, who had been eating steadily and silently (so far), muttered, "No wonder Atobe was in a bad mood."
"If anyone mentions that again," said Atobe Keigo's voice, cutting unexpectedly through the room like a very fine blade of polished steel, "he shall join Niou Masaharu."
There was a pause, laden with all manner of unspoken threats which everyone knew that Atobe was well capable of carrying out. Then—
"Hello, Atobe," Yukimura said mildly. "We were wondering where you were."
By way of greeting, Sanada and Tezuka gave identical nods to Atobe in perfect unison, and exchanged slightly startled glances – they hadn't expected to be in sync.
In silence, Atobe took his seat at the head of the table. The maître d' materialised discreetly at Atobe's elbow.
Kirihara, having apparently recovered sufficiently from the fright of seeing Atobe appear suddenly, opened his mouth again. "I don't believe you did anything to Niou-sempai," he piped up. "Niou-sempai is indestructible."
Atobe didn't deign to reply.
"Akaya."
It was all Yukimura said, and there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but it was enough.
Kirihara blinked – and then shrugged, smiling easily. "All right, sempai." His voice was calm and perfectly steady, quite unlike the slightly childlike, petulant tone he had adopted earlier.
He had dropped the act.
"Kirihara," Sanada bit out.
Kirihara met Sanada's eyes fearlessly. "It's fine, sempai. I know what I'm doing."
Sanada held Kirihara's gaze for a long time, before he relented. "You almost crossed the line."
"I stepped on it," Kirihara admitted cheerfully. "I do know where the line is. But this place was beginning to feel like a funeral. I don't like funerals, especially when no one's dead." He glanced at Atobe. "Atobe-san."
Atobe was watching Kirihara, his face as expressionless as Tezuka's.
"I hope you made it worth Niou-sempai's while."
There was a long silence.
Then Atobe, surprisingly, chuckled somewhat sardonically. "Ask him yourself."
Atobe, it appeared, was not without a sense of humour.
Kirihara grinned happily. "As expected of Atobe-san and Niou-sempai." He added, almost as an afterthought: "My sempai-tachi taught me well."
"Akaya!" Sanada was outraged.
But Yukimura was laughing. "All right, Akaya," he said as best as he could in between fits of laughter. "That's really quite enough."
"I thought that childish act was weird," Echizen mumbled under his breath. "Che."
Kirihara waved his fork at Echizen. "I'm a cute brat, or at least that's what my sempai-tachi have always told me. Playing to your strengths is a basic rule in—" he halted, struggling to find the right words. "Ah, well, basic rule for everything."
"Well said," Yukimura approved.
"Thank you, sempai!" chirped Kirihara.
Echizen rolled his eyes, but privately conceded the point.
Kirihara looked round brightly. "Now, isn't this much better?"
Indeed, the tension seemed to have evaporated from the room somehow. Yukimura was laughing, Sanada wore the expression of the long-suffering and saintly, Atobe was engaged in a detailed discussion with the maître d', Tezuka looked relaxed, Kaidoh seemed less grave, and Shinji in the space of a few seconds had somehow managed to inveigle Echizen into what appeared to be a kind of staring competition across the table – weird, but that made it normal.
It was never going to be easy, but it was good, for the moment, to be able to laugh a little, and to breathe…
… for now.