Learning Curve
"You need to reach, Gakuto," Atobe said, the exasperation in his voice thinly veiled. "If you carry on at this standard, you're going to be shot out of the sky like a clay pigeon." His mind thoughtfully added, 'not that your face wouldn't look better for it.'
"Being splattered all over the court," Gakuto grunted, squaring his feet for a neat landing. "Would be entirely preferable to working under you day after day." 'Even squashed, I'd be prettier than you.'
Usually during their training practices, Atobe might just have cracked a smile at the response. An ironic smirk at the very least. It was common knowledge within Hyotei and conceded by both parties that Atobe and Gakuto did not get along particularly well. Off the court, they seemed reasonably compatible. Atobe respected the blunt honesty of Gakuto's opinion and in return, taught him refinement and ambition. Gakuto had been drifting without an aim when he joined Hyotei; determined only to secure the romantic inclinations of his Captain and to have some fun whilst he was doing it. His rough edges had been sharpened into corners appropriate to the standard Hyotei set, and Atobe's jagged manners had been softened by Gakuto's mocking whine. In fact, the only problem that stood between them seemed to be tennis itself.
Clicking his fingers twice in an agitated fashion, Atobe dismissed the rest of the team. Yuushi had been tying Jirou point-for-point, as was to be expected of the pair, and Shishido and Ootori had just finished practicing the latter's killer serve. Wakashi was merely looking on; creeping, almost, a curled smile upon his lips as he watched Atobe's progress with Gakuto. Mukahi seemed to be Atobe's venture of the year, and Wakashi knew with knife-edged surety that nothing was more damaging to a Captain than a floundering project. Gakuto was never going to last at Hyotei. But Wakashi knew that Atobe wanted him to, and this made his smile all the sweeter.
"You're not trying hard enough." Atobe said sharply, his eyes pointedly ignoring Hiyoshi's hungry curiosity. Stepping towards Gakuto, now struggling to rein in his breath, his voice was low in pitch and disappointed. His eyes were overcast; like a Japanese summer rain that threatened to go on forever. "I've told you time and time again. If you're not going to train hard enough, you're going to be gone. If that's what you want, leave now. Don't put us all through the wringer, Gakuto. I've not got time to fuck around with you."
"Jesus, Atobe," Gakuto piped up, his voice a bitter yelp. "You try hitting a tennis ball upside down. I am trying. It's just that this team is a hell of a lot more demanding than my last one, and you lot get to play on your own two feet rather than on your head!"
Hiyoshi shuffled back away from Atobe, wringing his fingers into the crisscross of the fence and tilting his head to one side. Beside him, Yuushi stood; thoughtful, one eyebrow cocked behind his indeed, non-prescription lenses. Both studied Gakuto with probing expressions, as if trying to detect his secret or uncover a disguised motive. In Hyotei, it was universally accepted that everyone was out to climb the ladder at the cost of any or all of the others. Gakuto had arrived without the same aspiration, giving many cause to think that he was the most intelligent tactician of all. To all outside eyes, it seemed that Gakuto had even fooled the Captain himself. Not a popular player, Gakuto was nonetheless followed closely by intrigue and suspicion alike.
"Don't give me bullshit excuses." Atobe replied in an unruffled tone. There was no need for 'don't speak to me like that' when one could instil a sense of shame merely by casting a serious gaze. Gakuto seemed almost to shrink under the look. "We're all here to be the best we can be. If you're not prepared to do the same, you shouldn't be here. Go to Fudomine, if you want to slack off. Don't stand there whinging to me that it's hard when you're really thinking, 'shit, I'm just not good enough.' You are good enough. You'd be good enough if you let yourself be. I'm disappointed in you, Gakuto. I thought you had more motivation than this. If the chance of going to the Nationals with the best team in the prefecture doesn't inspire you, then there's nothing more I'm prepared to do for you. Do you understand me?"
Gakuto took a couple of steps toward him and Yuushi thought, just for one second, that his clenched hand was going to strike the Captain. From the smug chuckle that fell out of Hiyoshi's open lips, he could tell that his teammate thought the same. Gakuto had always been a disaster waiting to happen and today, right in the midst of the hot summer holiday, seemed a perfectly good day for it. Yet both men were surprised when the small, scrawny player finally found the words that his fists eluded him.
"I understand. I'll try harder to improve. Give me a week, and if you're not satisfied, I'll give up my place. I can't promise you that I won't whine, being as it is a crucial part of my tennis style, but I'll do my best not to let you down." The words would have been a crushing defeat, were it not for the petulance with which they were presented. Gakuto was nothing if not a sore loser.
Atobe's eyes narrowed. He was either thinking or simmering, and Gakuto didn't like his chances.
"What? Atobe! I'm not going to stop whinging! If I don't complain, I'll explode! If you're going to gag me for all of next week's training sessions, I'll resign here and now. That's abuse!"
"Shut up," Atobe replied, in a flurry of words clearly not designed to insult, but to stem the tide of indignation. His face oddly resembled Inui on a power kick; evil genius uncovers the meaning of life. "Have you ever played doubles?"
"No," Gakuto pouted. "I've always relied on my own skills. I'm a singles player. Unlike that Kikumaru twerp, it is possible to play acrobatic tennis and still be a man. You don't have to rely on a wife."
A shark-like grin was forming across Atobe's features. Years of experience and even more of confidence were taking hold of brain and lips, and this had been known to intimidate even Hiyoshi. When his eyes, lit-up and persuasive, lifted over Gakuto's head, the reasoning behind his question started to fall into place. Gakuto huffily turned around to follow his devious gaze. And when Yuushi and Gakuto exchanged looks, their mouths forming identical aghast expressions just ripe for a mutual cacophony of complaint, Atobe happily took it as a sign of harmonious teamwork.