Monday, July 27

"You didn't go to the hospital again and really kiss him, did you?" Gakuto instantly said, once he heard the news.

"No, but I was there when he woke up."

"You did, didn't you! Why, buchou!"

It was meaningless, so Atobe quit. It no longer mattered to him what Mukahi Gakuto thought he did or didn't do. Besides, the first thing Jirou had said upon waking had been Atobe's name.

During practice Atobe reveled in the normality of the day. Having no more bizarre sicknesses or disturbances was something of a relief. He doled out veiled encouragements and scathing punishments as needed, and Jirou was there playing. In fact, Jirou practiced with such wakeful enthusiasm as never before seen in all of the tennis team's days.

"Your two-day nap seems to have done good things for you," Shishido said to Jirou, after a series of volleys. Jirou laughed and stretched and ran wild.

It was unmistakable, the things Jirou did since he came back from his coma. His game was a good sight better. Jirou's movements were all new and admittedly improved, his scrambling at the net edged with grace and electricity. Atobe was not at all displeased.

Of course, Atobe just had to make up for the game that Jirou had missed. Jirou insisted. ("It wasn't my fault something weird happened last time. We still have to play! C'mon." Oh, very well.) They began the game at school, attracting passing students and club members who were drawn by the sound of the ball. Occasionally girls cheered excitedly when Atobe made a point.

Atobe made many points. A slight dizziness came upon him every now and then - surely he wasn't getting sick. He knew he'd regret that kiss - how foolish an act, on someone in the hospital. His breath quickened. Was that the beating of his pulse?

An outcry from those watching. Atobe sensed the tennis team regulars standing nearby, emanating surprise. "Did Atobe-sama just use the Hametsu e no Rondo on Jirou? He must be really serious today." Their murmuring was too loud.

Across the court, Jirou momentarily paused. His racket had been knocked to the ground, several feet away. Atobe tried to remember if he'd ever used that move on Jirou before.

"Atobe. That was terrific," Jirou told him. From the distance, it was difficult to tell Jirou's expression - it might have been adoration. He was grinning, and all Atobe could see were teeth. Atobe went on to win, 6-3.

"Astonishing," Atobe murmured to himself, at the end of it. He was bothered by a sense of déjà vu. It might have been from a dream. He had an idea of someone's smile being full of many rows of sharpened teeth. It was faint - he had probably imagined it.

As it turned out, he was partially right.

- - -

Note: EXTREMELY TBC.