Thursday, July 30

A lot of people had been directing curious glances at Jirou lately. Atobe knew, because he was doing it too.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Akutagawa Jirou?" asked Shishido, finally weirded out of silence by the plain wakefulness that had enveloped Jirou for longer than anyone had ever witnessed. There hadn't been a single nap since Saturday that anyone had seen. It was enough to be seriously out of the ordinary.

Mukahi chimed in with sudden inspiration: "Pod person."

"You think so?"

They all laughed, standing outside the school at the end of the day. The laughter was good-natured and not serious. Still, uncertainty bit around the edges. It was true that aside from sleeping less, Jirou continued to eat and drink, spark and leap, play tennis and live like the wind.

Jirou just shrugged cheerfully, not knowing. A flickering smile tugged at his lips at unpredictable moments. "I'm still me, like always. It's been such nice weather these last days. I don't know, I feel like doing things! Somehow I'm not tired."

Atobe looked at him dubiously. "At least you'll spend your time more productively, Jirou."

"It's a bit peculiar though," Oshitari mused. "I wonder if your coma had anything to do with this."

"I don't suppose Akutagawa-senpai just needs less sleep as he gets older?" Ootori ventured.

"Jirou?" said Shishido, skeptically. "Besides, I don't think that would happen overnight, Choutarou." He smiled to take the sting out.

"True," Ootori admitted.

Jirou said he was going to the hamburger place and meet Fuji Shuusuke and Fuji's brother there, and would anyone like to come? Atobe might have said yes. It might have been amusing to bait the two Fuji siblings.

Atobe justified his refusal with the reasoning that an afternoon with even one Fuji was too ridiculous to stand, and hamburgers were far beneath him anyway. To sit there among the masses was something Atobe would not do.

Shishido and Ootori went along instead, exchanging glances and shrugs. That, after he recognized it, did not particularly surprise Atobe. They and Jirou took their leave, and soon afterwards the rest of the team drifted off home or downtown in twos and threes.

Atobe opted to go home, so he pulled out his cell phone and called for a ride. The issue of Jirou's unusual lack of sleep had put him somewhat out of sorts.

The chauffeur arrived within ten minutes, during which Atobe idly wondered what he was so annoyed about.

Atobe had always prided himself on knowing about people. For one thing, he knew who he was quite well. At night he could look matter-of-factly at the stars and say he belonged there. About other people, Atobe might misjudge - Tezuka Kunimitsu, for example, who surprised Atobe by being a boy of passion. However, such mistakes were temporary. Atobe understood the truth about Tezuka now, too.

His wasn't the method of data gatherers such as Inui Sadaharu of Seigaku, or Yanagi Renji of Rikkaidai. Atobe consciously never thought about it like that. More profound than tennis, it was a problem of identity, and Atobe was good at solving problems. At least he had been, till Jirou had acted contrary to what Atobe knew. No wonder he was annoyed.

Atobe realized he had simply been used to narrowing Jirou down to this one defining trait. Simplification was an easy thing to do.

Moreover, it was a mistake. It was foolish to attach an activity to someone's identity, even if Jirou had been sleeping all his life. Logically, it wasn't incomprehensible to change hobbies, and doing so didn't mean one became someone else entirely. Jirou was Jirou whether he slept thirteen hours a day or not.

By the time Atobe finished with this line of thought, the sleek car pulled into the well-camouflaged garage next to his home. Atobe let it go and went inside. Enough philosophy. He went to tackle schoolwork and dinner.

Even so, he couldn't help remembering their ice cream and the comfort of habits.