Wednesday, July 22

It had to have been a chance meeting.

Atobe, conscious of the pull of another hot day, regally stood up against it. Foregoing some minor student council paperwork, he instead headed to the street courts with Kabaji and Jirou in tow. A few nameless players were there. To Atobe's stack of victories he rapidly added two more, in a lazy fashion, while his teammates watched idly from the side. It was barely worth the effort, but he liked the idea of standing alone on the court like a beacon, unaffected by the exercise despite being under the blazing sun.

And then Fuji Shuusuke's tormentingly smiling countenance appeared on the court, accompanied by the Seigaku data collector. Atobe never minded standing out, but the Seigaku players' personalities went out of unusual and well into strange. Atobe greeted them with the devil's smile. He appreciated the underlying currents of fate. "Fuji, Inui. How pleasant to meet like this. Since the situation is so fortuitous, would you like to play a match?" Infuse debonair into your smile, now and again show teeth.

"Fuji-san! Fuji-san!" Jirou's joy was palpable and very noisy. Atobe resigned himself to Jirou's embarrassing displays, since needling Jirou about it was never effective. That wide-eyed adrenaline and hop-skip-and-jump to the feet of the enemy - that was just Jirou. "Fuji-san, oh, it would be great if you'd play a game with me. It was boring before but now you're here."

Fuji regarded the excitement with inscrutable kindness. He looked like he was indulging a dog. "Certainly, Jirou-san. I'm glad to see you here." All that smile, the stretch of lips, was vaguely distasteful, though Atobe appreciated strategic masks and the spark behind them.

Jirou and Fuji moved off to the far court. Atobe regarded Jirou's thrumming anticipation with slight doubt. And yet there was no harm in it; he said nothing. Inui glinted in the light, notebook in hand, so Atobe said, "Taking Jirou's data?"

"Why, certainly."

Inui himself acted according to clockwork. The technique felt like so much futility in Atobe's eyes. All the best players transcended data. Still - Atobe looked speculatively at the data gatherer, a spark of an idea coming into his mind. It amused him greatly, and he resolved to discuss it with Sakaki-sensei.

The thwok of the ball punctuated the atmosphere, accompanied by sneaker rubber against the ground. Jirou was most certainly faster since the last game he had played against Fuji. He ran wild; scrambling, sparks flying behind his feet. Atobe barely noticed when the final score was called, 6-3, Fuji. It was drowned out largely by yelling, Jirou's voice over the heat. "That was really cool, Fuji-san, how did you learn that? You're even better than before. Wow."

Atobe felt the sting of defeat in lieu of his oblivious teammate, but it wasn't entirely unexpected. By now the sun was up and baking, and he was reluctant to stay like a lizard on a rock. He was bored; the glamour of the matches had worn off quickly.

"Jirou, let's go," he called, standing up. Atobe turned for the exit, and Kabaji was obediently there behind. He looked back when nobody joined them.

Jirou was still talking to Fuji, so Atobe spoke to the air. "I have business to attend to. See you later." Very calmly, he walked off the court, without another backwards glance. Unfamiliar emotions poked cautiously into his head.

Maddening, that boy, only too happy to lose incredibly. There was no reason for Atobe to stay around to see it, and student council responsibilities called to him.

The heat shimmering off the pavement offended Atobe's sensibilities, and he walked quickly. Offhandedly it occurred to him that he might be being petty - but it was so satisfying that there was no help for it. The limo was waiting, and he and Kabaji sat wordlessly inside.