Saturday, July 25

By the next morning all the regulars had been notified of Jirou's hospitalization. Sensing an agreement, they gathered outside the school, seeming somewhat at a loss. It was strange without the omnipresent form of Jirou drowsing, but no one mentioned it.

"Are you really sure he isn't just asleep?" Gakuto asked doubtfully. The strength of Jirou's snoozing was an article of legend, and justifiably so.

"Surely not," Atobe answered. "I couldn't wake him."

Gakuto opened his mouth to say something probably inane; Oshitari spoke faster, just in time. "I agree with Atobe. This time it actually looks serious."

Ootori brimmed with concern and good nature. Inevitably, he suggested, "Maybe we should go to the hospital to see Akutagawa-senpai."

Atobe checked his watch. 9:30 AM. "All right," he decided. "He'd better appreciate this once he's awake."

They rode on the public bus, which Atobe disliked ardently. He only submitted to the indignity of the bumps and noise because there was no time to call a private vehicle. Nonetheless, he maintained excellent grace, even when an old lady bumped into him and then smacked his leg with her cane. It seemed like eternity before they reached the hospital.

In the waiting room, they noticed Jirou's father dozing in a chair in the corner. He looked very much like his son, especially because he was snoring softly.

"We shouldn't wake him," Atobe concluded. Considering the sleeping habits of the Akutagawa clan, it might be more trouble getting the elder Akutagawa awake than it was worth.

He spoke to the secretary, and they were led to room 203 (hospital regulations being no match for Atobe's express wishes). Stepping through the doors, Atobe observed the essence of all hospital rooms - steeped in white anonymity, except for the lump of Jirou under the sheets.

"They can't identify what's wrong with him yet," the nurse who had brought them explained. "He's under observation for the time being, and we'll take test samples today. So far his vital signs appear normal."

"Is there any idea when he might awake?" Atobe asked.

"I'm afraid not," she told him. "We'll notify his family if there's any change." She departed quietly, leaving a bit more room in the space crowded by eight junior high students, especially Kabaji.

"Jirou looks... well, normal," said Shishido. Even Ootori couldn't disagree. Anticlimactic feelings collapsed the gravity of the situation. The Hyoutei regulars stared down at their fallen teammate, deflated.

Jirou's breath came slow and regular, and his mouth had fallen very slightly open. The surroundings washed him pale, but upon inspection he was about the same as ever in all aspects.

Gakuto broke the silence. "Maybe someone should kiss him." Atobe looked at him like he was an idiot, but Gakuto only grinned. "Like Sleeping Beauty. Haven't you seen the Disney movie?"

"Well, Atobe, it couldn't hurt," Oshitari said, in defense of his doubles partner. The smirk hovering about Oshitari's lips was hidden just enough to be deeply offensive.

"What are you implying?" Atobe glared. Everyone seemed to be looking at him.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Shishido objected. "What if Jirou has some sort of disease that you could catch? Y' never know. Though it'd be hilarious," he added as an afterthought. Atobe made sure to include him in the glare.

"Oh, come on. Try it, Atobe!" said Gakuto, not even bothering to hide his disturbingly large grin. He was far too enthusiastic about it. "It's supposed to be a prince, after all."

"What?" With raised eyebrows, Atobe sneered, "While I'm sure my kiss would have an effect on anyone, I'm certainly not-"

"We should really give everything a shot. You want to do everything possible to ensure Hyoutei's strength, right?" Oshitari cut in. If Atobe had held illusions as to Oshitari's loyalties, he didn't anymore.

Atobe grumbled, "He's asleep, not dead." Nonetheless, Atobe hated when his team used that particular tack. It was a far too easy way to manipulate him. He inadvertently cast one look over the prone, silent body in the bed, which suddenly took on an appearance of helplessness, and Atobe figured it wouldn't hurt too much.

"Get out," he commanded imperiously, entirely cool and collected, entirely dignified. "I'm not putting on a show for your benefit."

Despite some mutinous looks from certain members, the team wasn't out of hand enough to disobey, and filed out. "He never minded putting on a show before," Gakuto muttered as a parting shot while exiting. The door clicked shut behind them.

Alone and quiet, Atobe faced his task without trepidation. It wasn't exactly a big deal. As he leaned over the bed, Jirou's breath ghosted past his cheek. Atobe pressed their lips together, a dry thing. He felt odd, and hoped it wasn't a contagious disease.

There was no response at all. There wasn't so much as a catch in Jirou's breath.

Damn.

Holding his dignity tightly in, Atobe left the room. Gakuto attacked him the moment the door closed. "That wasn't a real kiss!"

Insult and injury. Thank you. "20 laps when we get back, Gakuto," Atobe said. His pace never faltered, though his pride be wounded. "For peeking through the glass in the door."


"Damn it!"

"Oh, and 10 laps to Oshitari, for abusing my position of responsibility."

"Ah, well, it can't be helped."

As satisfying as that was, they left the hospital rankling in defeat.

- - -

That afternoon, the butler notified Atobe of a call. He quickly checked the time - 2 PM. Jirou, he thought, news, and he reached for the phone quickly. "Hello."

"Hello, Atobe-san." The voice was a dash of cold water. It wasn't Jirou. "This is Fuji Shuusuke from Seigaku. Are you surprised?"

Surprised - why would he be surprised. Atobe wondered how anyone managed to remain sane over on the Seigaku team. Oh, wait, no one had. "Fuji," he answered noncommittally. Fuji was probably melodramatically smiling - had to enhance his appeal. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Oh, simply curiosity. Has Akutagawa-san been busy today?"

Fuji, you smile too much. It's bad style. "Why do you ask?"

"Atobe-san, it doesn't do to answer a question with a question." Fuji's voice fell into a husky chuckle over the line. "But in this case, I merely ask because Akutagawa-san asked me for a match today, and he did not show up. Nor do I know his number - but Inui does know yours."

Of course. Inui probably knew his address, blood type, and favorite food, too. "Jirou was taken ill yesterday," Atobe informed Fuji, aware of his haughty - but controlled, that was important - tone. "He has not yet recovered."

"I see," Fuji said. "Hmm."

"Yes. I'll tell him you called." Or maybe Atobe would forget. Memories were unstable things. For while Atobe reasoned that Jirou's time with Fuji was an excellent opportunity to gather insight on Fuji's tennis game, his memory might not feel the same way.

"If you'll excuse my asking, what is Akutagawa-san ill with?" Fuji sounded concerned, perhaps too much so. Then again, Atobe had to admit that Fuji would never overact.

Clink; Atobe played idly with a paperweight on his desk. An expensive one. If he dropped and broke it he'd be bereft of at least 10,000 yen, not that it made a difference. "Don't worry about Jirou," he said, finally. "He'll be fine."

"Make sure he gets enough sleep. Or perhaps, not too much sleep," said Fuji, politely. Atobe was momentarily startled; Fuji couldn't know. That was impossible.

Atobe laughed mechanically, but he made sure it sounded realistic. "Don't worry," he repeated, the sound ringing through his ears.

"Thank you, Atobe-san. Goodbye."

"Goodbye." He hung up with some muted relief. Fuji set his teeth on edge.

Sitting in his bedroom and thinking about the empty day ahead of him, Atobe considered the possibilities. While he had some homework, it wasn't of much importance anymore. As a matter of fact, he thought he might-- well, perhaps he could--

It took half an hour to clarify the idea. After the time he shrugged and figured he could do whatever he wanted to do, so why not?

Leaving the house, Atobe walked a few blocks to the nearest bus stop. He told no one. Remarkably, he waited stoically for the public bus, a hell of a sacrifice. He boarded the next bus. Before long, the hospital came into view, an unlikable long white building. The interior smelled peculiar; why couldn't they take the trouble to get air fresheners?

"They've taken Akutagawa-kun for some tests right now," explained the secretary, when Atobe asked. "In a while he'll be back and you can visit him for a bit."

Thwarted and displeased, Atobe settled himself down in one of the waiting room chairs, too soft for comfort, and picked up a magazine. He hadn't thought too hard of what he'd do once he arrived. He had entertained unconscious notions of his very presence being required for Jirou to wake up.

An hour, perhaps, ticked by. A sense of quiet fell over the hospital rooms, brought on by the afternoon sunlight through the window. A fish tank in the corner, inhabited by brightly cheerful tropical fish, seemed terribly pointless. Atobe considered going home, but the idea of taking the bus over and then not even catching a glimpse of Jirou galled him, so he sat it out stubbornly.

Finally, the secretary got his attention and explained that Akutagawa-kun had returned, and would he like to go visit? Atobe would; they passed the same corridors to room 203.

"Have they found anything wrong with him, yet?" he asked, before entering.

"I'm afraid there's been nothing. This is an extremely singular case. All his tests have come back normal, I'm told." With that, the nurse ushered him in, bowed, and took her leave. Atobe imagined that the staff probably told everyone the worst-case scenario. He clicked the door shut, turned around to do he-didn't-know-what.

And then a voice sounded.

It said: "Atobe."

Stunned, Atobe whirled around and stared at the figure on the bed in pure astonishment.

"What?" he said, disbelief writ large on his face.

"Where am I?" Jirou asked, still lying down. His eyes were, however, open.

"The hospital. What happened, Jirou?"

"Huh? I think I should be asking you that," Jirou protested. The boy sat up slowly, though he looked drowsy still.

All things considered, Atobe thought it would be a remarkably bad idea to let Jirou sleep now, so he stepped forward and shook Jirou lightly. The solidity of his shoulder was an anchor, and Atobe felt rather relieved. He was also gratified to think of how he might gloat at Gakuto, later.

Dryly, Atobe informed, "You've been having an extended naptime."

Jirou stared at him for an extended beat. "Oh no! Did I miss our match? Oh no, what time is it?"

"Almost four."

"Friday?"

"Saturday, actually."

"Oh no! Fuji-san," Jirou wailed. Atobe gazed back, steadily. It was just too pathetic. The sight crept through Atobe's cracks, appealing to his not-entirely-defunct sense of honor.

"Fuji called earlier, asking about you. I told him you were sick," Atobe said. "You can call later and reschedule."

"Oh. Yes! Thanks, Atobe."

"So, Jirou. How do you feel?"

"I feel perfectly all right. Was I really asleep that long?" Jirou now looked quite alert. Missing the match with Fuji had probably shocked him into wakefulness. "Why'd you stick me in the hospital, huh? Are my parents around?"

Ah, this indeed is getting more than you wish for. "You," Atobe explained patiently, "were in a coma. Nothing could rouse you. And your father was here in the morning, but he must have left."

Jirou nodded several times, absorbing this. He stretched like a cat and began to get out of bed, but Atobe stopped him with disdain. "Don't get up. I'll call the nurse. They have to check you before they can let you go, obviously."

"Oh," said Jirou. "I hope it doesn't take long." He stared up at Atobe; the fluorescent lights of the hospital room cast reflections of bright light on Jirou's eyes. It reminded Atobe of something. "Thanks, Atobe," Jirou said again.

Within the half hour, Jirou was released by a very puzzled hospital staff. His parents and siblings came to take him home, arriving with covertly effusive hugs. They thanked Atobe with undue fervency, and gave him a ride home. The car was too small, so Jirou's younger sister sat in Jirou's lap - in a few minutes she had fallen asleep. Atobe, through subtle jostling, made sure that Jirou didn't follow suit just yet.

Atobe was home by 5:30, surprised by the way the events of the day fit together. It still shocked him that he'd willingly (more or less) boarded public transportation alone. It was uncharacteristic, and he'd have to think about things like that.

Instead, images inexplicably flashed by, of an indulgent smile and closed eyes. Fuji and his new pet. Even though at Hyoutei, Jirou was as friendly and out of place as a dog among leopards, Atobe realized that Jirou shouldn't be anyone's pet. Sometimes Jirou looked at you with unusual perception in his gaze.