Disclaimer: Yes, I own Atobe and Ryoma, both of them are bound and gagged in my closet for my entertainment…yeah right
Thanks for all the lovely reviews! They totally kept me going when I was suffering from a severe case of writers' block. Sorry for the wait and hope you enjoy!
Tezuka put down the sports magazine he was reading and regarded Fuji with a mock-stern glare as other man (though in his eyes, Fuji always would be no more than a boy) cut off the speakerphone, "…Will you ever grow up?" Tezuka asked finally, more than a bit exasperated. "So what if Echizen and Kevin Smith are sharing a room?"
"They're sharing an apartment, with respectively separate bedrooms. The showers are another story." Fuji grinned and crawled on the couch next to him, "That kid still cracks me up." He paused, "It's surprising though, don't you think, that of all people they'd end up being roommates?"
"Depends on how you look at it." Tezuka shrugged, "I'm just surprised that Atobe made such a request. That's all."
Fuji laughed lightly and kissed him, "Yeah, that too, I guess. But I'm not that surprised, actually."
"Why?" Tezuka blinked.
"You and Ryoma are a lot alike." Was all Fuji offered, "Maybe that's why he took a fancy to your protégé,. Atobe's always liked you, in case you didn't know." He put his arms possessively around this former captain/current lover's waist and leaned close, "I've spent so much time chasing you that I'm not about to give you up, Kunimitsu."
Tezuka allowed himself a small smile at this candid, but so very true statement, but Fuji didn't see, "I can imagine." He said quietly.
"Saa…" Fuji smiled an ever so sadistic smile, a smile that still made Tezuka's skin prickle with apprehension, "I wonder if they've met yet…"
That tone of voice was, is and always will be unsettling. Tezuka shuddered, suddenly glad that Echizen was in the U.S. and therefore far out of reach for whatever plans Fuji might have hatched.
This Unfinished Dream
-Chapter 2-
Somehow or the other, Ryoma had made his way in front of the crowd, he didn't remember how. But his best guess was that Kevin dragged him. "…Good afternoon, Monkey King." He said, as if he had said it every afternoon of his entire life.
The whispers and talking started anew, that was when Ryoma realized that things had been absolutely silent before. He caught only fragments about what was said, mostly about how rude he was, and why the teacher was so slow in taking roll. Oh, and about how he was the brat that entered the U.S. open when he was in Jr. High and on and on and on…
To which Atobe Keigo, expensive leather jacket, tennis racket, narcissistic smirk and all returned, "Don't call me that." As if he too, had to endure this childish banter everyday of his entire life.
"…Finish calling roll, Monkey King, you're not finished yet." Ryoma looked away, "Mada mada dane, don't let me distract you." He walked back into the crowd, which parted reverently before him like the Red Sea, with an animated Kevin at his heels.
Atobe did not say anything, not even shut up, which was always a given…except this once. He merely turned back to the roll sheet and called out the next name Edwards something.
"Oi, Ryoma, is that the guy that Billy and Michael played against during the invitational with that other guy?"
Wordlessly, Ryoma nodded.
"What the hell's he doing here?" Kevin wondered incredulously. "Teaching this hell of a dump?"
The seniors that had only glared and threatened him before now balled their fists and looked ready to jump him. "Excuse me?"
"You're excused." Kevin dismissed them airily, and turned his attention back to Atobe, who was once more immersed in roll call, "What's his name again?"
After casting a rather worried look in the direction of the seniors, he answered, "…Atobe Keigo." Ryoma was surprised that the name still slid so easily from his lips, after such a long time. "Don't ask me, I don't know why he's here either."
"…Atobe, huh? Well, I haven't seen his name in the magazines, so it's pretty obvious he's not pro." Turning back to Ryoma, Kevin asked, "Were you friends with him, back in Japan?"
"…Was I…" Ryoma trailed off thoughtfully. He'd never considered the question before. Was he 'friends' with the most obnoxious guy in Japan, and possibly of all Asia, and possibly on Earth? "…I don't think we ever got past the rival phase of our acquaintanceship." He was careful not to say relationship. To say it was such would be, to say the least, misleading.
"…Oh," Ryoma could not tell if Kevin was disappointed or not. "…That's understandable. But still…if he's here, and he's not pro--"
"Yet." Ryoma supplied, hoping to derail the conversation into safer ground. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure what his feelings were regarding Atobe at this moment and like the many other troublesome things littering in his life, he didn't want to think about it, at least, not now.
But Kevin was not to be so easily distracted. "True, he's not pro yet, but why'd he come here and not New York or something? That's a better launch pad for a career than here. All they care about here in LA is basketball." He said thoughtfully.
That was strange, and Ryoma was inclined to agree, though most of the time when his roommate said anything reasonable, his reaction was the exact opposite. Whether Kevin realized it or not, he had just answered another unasked question. Maybe that was why the Advanced Tennis Class was so…for the lack of a politer word—crude. "But this is LA." Ryoma said, since he could not think of anything else. He had to say something, however untelligent, or else Kevin would most likely be unwilling to let the subject rest.
"So you weren't friends with him?" Kevin persisted. "He treated you like you were his friend." He added as a tentative afterthought, "Well…in a weird way, he did."
Ryoma heaved a heavy sigh of irritation; he was all at once tired of Kevin Smith and his questions. Granted, trying to talk to a very pissed off Kevin was like trying to talk to a blonde, blue-eyed Tezuka who spoke English, talking to a curious, happy Kevin was another story. He was relieved when Kevin's name was called.
However, his relief was not to last, it promptly evaporated when Kevin returned with Atobe in tow. "Don't you have other students to tend to?" Ryoma said.
"I'm planning to kick half of them out anyways." Atobe dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand, like how he would dismiss a lowly servant asking a stupid question. "Advanced Tennis my ass."
Kevin shot him a pointed look, which Ryoma, in turn, pointedly ignored. "…Why are you here, Atobe?" 'san' was not needed, since the western culture, as Fuji did pointed out was much ruder than the eastern world in general. Neither was 'senpai' because Ryoma had never had the misfortune to be one of Atobe's underlings, err, he meant underclassmen.
"…Well," Atobe took his time answering, "…Let's just say that I'm here on business, shall we?" He finished with a smirk.
"Business?" Ryoma's eyes at once narrowed in suspicion. "What kind of business, exactly, Monkey King?"
Kevin stood silently behind Ryoma, taking this all in with relish. He was starting to depict some kind of pattern. Clearly, this Atobe guy and Ryoma went through all of this before…all that was missing now were the circumstances.
When Atobe did not answer, Ryoma asked again, a trifle sharper this time, "What kind of business, Atobe?"
Atobe smirked, "Classified."
"Have you met anyone yet?"
"…Anyone?"
"That we know, from Japan."
"Business for Fuji?" Ryoma gritted out between clenched teeth.
Kevin put a hand warningly on his shoulder, "Calm down." After casting a worried glance in Atobe's direction, he whispered, "I know you guys were rivals back then, but the status quo has changed, buddy, he's a teacher here. If you attack him, things might get ugly."
Of course Atobe knew this. Ryoma glared at him. "I wasn't going to attack him." He shot back
"Sure you weren't." Atobe gave him a knowing nod, "But since you're so insistent on knowing, Ore-sama will indulge you, just this once." He paused dramatically, " Sorry to disappoint you, Ryoma, but my being here has nothing to do with Fuji Syusuke."
Ryoma was so surprised that he forgot to get angry, merely stood there like an idiot with his jaw hanging. "What did you just call me, Monkey King?"
Kevin could barely suppress his mirth, he mumbled something about getting a drink of water, an excuse he was positive that no one heard and promptly shot off like a bullet.
"It's good for us to assimilate into Western culture." Atobe's tone took on that of an elementary history teacher, "So it's only proper that I call you Ryoma and you, on the other hand, should address me as mister."
--Mr. Atobe. The last thing that Ryoma would ever call him, not because he was trying to be rude (though truthfully that was part of it), but because it sounded plain weird. "Just answer the question." He felt, rather than saw the crowd of students gather.
By this time, Kevin had returned, out of the corner of his eye, Ryoma saw him talking to a group of curious onlookers. Atobe followed his gaze, and smirked. To say the least, Atobe's smirks were getting to be more disconcerting. Reaching out, he brushed a careless hand by his cheek, Ryoma instinctively winced at the other's touch. "Did I hurt you?"
"Answer the question."
Atobe had been speaking Japanese up to this point, and now, because he had an attentive audience at last, he switched to English. He smiled ever so sweetly, a gesture that was incredibly unlike him. "I'm here on unfinished business."
