High fives held eight seconds, Inui noted as he watched the Silver Pair practice. The two appeared to be working on the accuracy of Ohtori's Scud Serve. Inui had to admit the serve was formidable, though neither of them had much experience with designing training menus. Ohtori hit the serve again and again, but he had no clear point of focus other than Shishido. Additionally, he served with only 60 percent of his power to conserve energy. This method alone would not improve accuracy in a competitive situation.

However, tennis data was not the object of Inui's current mission. Analyzing tennis strategy did not usually require one to crouch covertly behind a bench.

Shishido crosses net six times to adjust Ohtori's stance. Stance does not require adjusting.

Overall, the data frustrated Inui. In training sessions, the Silver Pair acted nearly identically to himself and Kaidoh. He could get no useful information from merely observing them, which meant he would still be at a loss when he returned to Seigaku and to Kaidoh.

Another tick mark: Seven times.

In truth, Inui was worried. He and Kaidoh had been not quite dating for almost a month now, and despite Inui's very conservative calculations about the success of their relationship, they were succeeding: a simultaneously wonderful and terrifying prospect.

The terror came from two sources: Momoshiro Takeshi and Yanagi Renji.

Ohtori uses handkerchief to wipe sweat from Shishido. 3rd instance.

Momoshiro liked Kaidoh. Inui had been certain of this from the moment he'd first laid eyes on the two freshmen brawling in the locker room. He'd thought nothing of it then, but now the matter worried him. Next year, Inui would be graduating and Kaidoh would remain at Seigaku. With Momoshiro. Possibly even playing doubles. The thought made Inui feel like he'd just ingested a failed Aozu prototype. While he had both the data and Kaidoh's own assurances that Momoshiro's feelings were one-sided, he knew both could be altered if he screwed up.

Possible stolen kiss by Ohtori. Vision blocked by Shishido's hat.

And he had a 76 percent chance of screwing up in the Kanto tourney. The match with Hyotei had made Inui feel bad enough. Kaidoh held no grudge, but he couldn't forget that it was his poorly calculated shot that altered the game, his lapse in concentration. And if Hyotei made him lapse, the finals would be ten times worse. He'd run the figures again and again, hoping for a wild card -- some X factor that would upset the qualifying rounds, but he couldn't deny the numbers. Seigaku would be playing Rikkaidai in the finals, and Renji would be there. 58 percent chance in Singles 2, 42 percent chance in Singles 3; Renji no longer played doubles. The issue Inui had been ignoring for so very long was about to be standing across the net from him again, and Inui knew there was a 76 percent chance it would cost him Kaidoh.

He began to write again. Silver Pair continues --

Actually, the Silver Pair had disappeared. He had been too lost in his own thoughts to notice. Damn it. So much for finding a fresh example of a doubles combination. In any case, he should find Fuji before the tensai caused too much trouble. Tezuka had asked him ...

"Hey, Seigaku," snapped an annoyed voice from above Inui's head. "Is there a reason you're spying on me and Choutarou?"

Well, this was going to be fun explaining.

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Technically, the office belonged to Coach Sakaki. However, Sakaki preferred his office in the music department to his one near the tennis clubhouse, so Atobe had requested to use it. Atobe scheduled practice matches, arranged training menus, and prepared the line ups for competition anyway, so he needed the space more than the coach. Besides, Atobe was far more savvy about interior design. At least, that's what Jirou told Fuji as the two entered the room. Personally, Fuji questioned the taste of anyone who hung more than four portraits of themselves in the same room.

Fuji had been in Ryuzaki-sensei's office many times, though never comfortably. The ancient metal desk took up most of the space while rows of dull gray filing cabinets took up the rest. Ryuzaki-sensei had squeezed in avocado green rolling chairs both so abused that leaning back in one would result in the seat separating from the base and dumping the unlucky occupant onto the floor. When asked why she didn't use some of the budget to purchase a new chair, at least for herself, she usually replied that the budget was for tennis supplies, not comfort. It was better training for them to stand anyway. Oishi had actually started a fund amongst the third years to purchase Ryuzaki a new chair when the six graduated.

What Atobe must have spent furnishing the "office" could have kept Seigaku in racquet strings and grip tape well into the next millennium. To begin with, the room was larger than most of Fuji's classrooms. Yards of royal purple velvet and gold rope draped the walls. The rug Fuji walked in upon probably cost the same as Ryuzaki-sensei's yearly salary. At the height of the room stood an imposing oak desk with taloned feet, the Hyotei crest carved into its front panel. And behind the desk, in a throne more lush than any emperor's, sat Atobe Keigo. He didn't look up after Jirou knocked and bounced into the room. Instead, he kept his attention focused on the stack of papers in front of him. Fuji nearly chuckled at the slender, oval reading glasses Atobe had adopted. The tensai had never seen Atobe wear glasses before and wondered if they were simply for effect.

"Atobe-buchou," Jirou beamed, "Fuji-kun's here to see you."

Atobe glanced up as if he hadn't noticed anyone had come in. "Seigaku's Fuji Syusuke. To what does Hyotei owe the honor?" the boy asked, ceremoniously removing the glasses. Fuji made a mental note to add fake glasses to his list of things he didn't like about Atobe.

"Tezuka told me you may have misunderstood my letter," Fuji began. He forced his smile to brighten. "I just wanted to assure you that my intentions were honest."

Jirou meanwhile had apparently decided the conversation was going to be a boring one and hopped onto a plush, purple sofa by the side of the room. Fuji wondered why anyone needed a sofa in an office, but he supposed with Jirou on the team, there could be a reason. The volley specialist curled up around a gold throw pillow and promptly fell asleep. At least he looked asleep. After that first match, Fuji had learned Jirou had his own skills in disguising appearances.

"Indeed. Actually, the matter has been cleared up," Atobe continued. "You're quite welcome, by the way."

"Mn," Fuji said, because Tezuka would be upset if he said anything else. "Ja, then." Fuji turned to leave, but Atobe's voice stopped him.

"Do you know when he'll be returning? He owes ore-sama a proper rematch."

Fuji turned back, bristling. The man who sent Tezuka to Germany had no right to casually ask when he'd be back. "He'll return when his arm is fully healed, though if you wanted to play against him, I'm afraid there's a rather long line forming."

"Best hope it's before the finals, ah?" Atobe rested his chin on his hand, raising one eyebrow.

Fuji took a deep breath, trying to remember Tezuka asking him to be diplomatic. Tezuka saying he'd return soon. Saying he missed him. There, that did it. When Fuji spoke again, his voice remained even, "Seigaku is strong even without Tezuka. We will persevere." He thought he saw Jirou's eyes twitch open on the sofa, but couldn't be sure.

Atobe's hand rose to his face. Fuji would have rolled his eyes if that hadn't meant opening them, which the snobby buchou was not worth. He dared Atobe to see what he was thinking right now. "Seigaku is strong, but you'll undoubtedly be playing Rikkaidai. Their Sanada is not a person to be trifled with."

"Nor am I." Fuji caught the hiss in his voice before it became too pronounced. He didn't know what Atobe hoped to accomplish by insulting the tensai, but Fuji did not enjoy being manipulated. Tezuka. This was for Tezuka. "If you're finished ..."

"A wager, then," Atobe said, rising. Standing, Atobe's wardrobe was much more obvious. It took an amazing amount of confidence to wear that many ruffles, and Fuji found himself annoyed that Atobe could pull it off. "You're aware ore-sama wants the first match against Tezuka, an honor ore-sama assumes you possess, ah?"

Fuji nodded, an eyebrow raised.

"If you lose to Sanada, give the position up."

For a moment, Fuji waited for the hidden cameras to be revealed, but Atobe appeared as serious as he could be in that fuscia top. "As you say," Fuji replied, "Tezuka has already said he would play me first. Why would I bet for something I already possess?"

"Because if Seigaku wins, ore-sama will personally pay for your flight to deliver the championship medal to Tezuka."

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A/N: So didn't get to Shishido and Inui's conversation just yet, but at least I've finally shown why the title is the title. I have a plot! I swear it! I'd even get to it if Inui and Kaidoh would leave me alone for a second. Sigh. So Shishi will be in the next chapter with more than a line this time. Thanks again to all my reviewers and my super-betas! I'll update again as soon as I'm sure the next scene is going to stay the next scene.