Friday, July 24

Everyone noticed it. They cast apprehensive looks at him; some of the first years caught a glimpse of his face from a distance and withered like tulips in a desert. When Atobe Keigo was discontent with the world, it radiated out to all his immediate surroundings, and anyone caught in the zone was liable to find himself scathed and running laps.

The reason he was irritated was not present. That was the problem.

It wasn't unheard of for Jirou to miss practice - sometimes Jirou slept through class and went on uninterrupted - but Atobe had said that they might have a practice match between them that day. It was surely unusual for Jirou to miss that. In fact it was annoying, thought Atobe. He'd have to assemble some grueling punishment - 30 laps definitely weren't enough - maybe he could-

"Hey, Atobe." Oshitari and some cringing underclassman broke Atobe's vengeful reverie. Oshitari appeared as calm as usual, though there was a tiny line between his brows. "Shin-kun here tells me that they found Jirou, but no one could wake him up."

"That's hardly news," Atobe said dismissively. "I expect we should just send Kabaji over."

"We even dumped water on his face," Shin-kun protested, from the side. "He didn't so much as turn over! We all know what Jirou-sempai is like, but this is really remarkable. He's never been this bad before."

Atobe frowned. He maintained skepticism that a really good shaking wouldn't do the trick, because experience had taught him that Jirou was stubborn. "Let's go see him."

The little second-year led Atobe and Oshitari around to the classrooms, where a hushed and bewildered crowd milled around an unseen point. Bodies, however, parted from Atobe's path automatically. In the center of the spectacle was a very comatose, slightly wet tennis regular. Off to one side, Jirou's math teacher was speaking to someone on a cell phone.

That could mean anything, though. Atobe grasped Jirou's shoulder with authority. The lack of response was actually worrying. It was like an empty body, were it not for the slow, heaving breaths. "Jirou! We were going to play a game," he said. Not even a twitch returned.

"Thank you," said the teacher, before hanging up with a beep. "Atobe-kun! I just called the hospital. To me, Akutagawa-kun definitely seems unconscious."

"Did anything happen?"

"No, I can't imagine the cause. He was awake at the beginning of class, looked just as always. I started the unit on trigonometry, and he must have dozed off." Jirou hated trigonometry, Atobe recalled. "No one tried too hard to wake him at the end of class, but later when he was still here... And now this."

"This is ridiculous." Atobe glared at the prone body, vaguely disturbed by the stillness. Jirou gave an impression of just so much flesh and hair. Furthermore, he looked heavy, in marked contrast with his usual airy character. "Is an ambulance coming?"

"Yes, soon. Excuse me, I'm going to call Akutagawa-kun's parents."

Oshitari remarked, gravely, "This looks bad."

Atobe discovered feelings of personal concern within himself, which was only a mild surprise. Atobe wasn't overly cruel to his teammates. They'd been together for so long that they'd assumed the role of friends, and he treated them as such.

The ambulance came in a whirl of light and sound. Jirou was laid out on a stretcher and carried, limp as a beached jellyfish, to the vehicle. He didn't so much as stir.

"You know, he looks absolutely normal," observed Oshitari, in a strange tone.

At that, Atobe considered. He thought about Monday, when he and Jirou had eaten ice cream together. He had thought, then, that Jirou's habit of sleep looked oddly empty. "You think so too?"

"Though we usually don't remark on it, because he sleeps so much - but doesn't Jirou look as if there's nothing in there whenever he's asleep?"

"Since he makes up for it when he's really awake, it's not remarkable," mused Atobe. "Normally."

They watched the ambulance drive away, in silence. The sky above showed hints of descending into sundown. "It's unusual. But he'll be all right," Oshitari said, as much to himself as to Atobe, once the last glow of the flashing ambulance lights disappeared.

Fortunately Hyoutei had no games lined up with other schools for the next two weeks. Hiyoshi had recently fallen into sullen disfavor, due to an injury involving Gakuto and interior decorating. Presumably the latter was the result of the former. No one discussed the specifics of the incident, anymore. "I'm sure Jirou will recover by the next match," Atobe remarked. "If not-"

Oshitari nodded. They shared a moment of dubious silence.

"Jirou had better wake up," Oshitari said, voicing Atobe's exact thoughts.

The problem gnawed on Atobe the entire day, palled his food, soured his sleep. It's a ridiculous thing to lose to, he thought with enforced rancor. Too much sleep!

Atobe himself was plagued with dreams; brief, fragmentary affairs laced with wine-colored sunshine. The fox from the river stared into his eyes, reflecting ghosts in its bright orange irises. Do you have what I want? What he remembered afterwards merely left him confused. He wondered what Jirou's dreams contained, in that strange, heavy sleep.