A Gentlemen's Wager, Chapter 14

A/N: Jirou is very fun to write. I get the feeling he's so much more manipulative than anyone suspects. It's also fun to write anything making fun of Oshitari. Sorry, Yuushi fans. I'm a Fuji girl, so I can't respect anyone who steals tensai counters. Anyway, I'm more or less done with this fic. A couple more chapters that I'm tweaking and a very sugary epilogue, but otherwise I'm almost done! Yay me!

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Fuji rarely warmed up against a wall. Walls were silent, unyielding, and always returned the shot, no matter where you hit it. They reminded him of Tezuka, which just made him feel more frustrated. Today, however, he had no desire to put on yet another false smile for his friends, and he badly needed the quiet. Methodically, he returned the ball until the pace reached a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm.

Today had begun as a disaster. True, Fuji's plans would have been ruined by Seigaku sweeping a victory in doubles, but Rikkaidai sweeping was monumentally worse. All his hope now rested on Inui, who was currently in no mental state to play ping pong let alone a championship tennis match. Kaidoh and Momo had to show up together looking as if they'd just been dragged through a river (which Momo insisted they had though Kaidoh refused to confirm the story). When Fuji had left to warm up, Inui had been fervently studying his data on Yanagi Renji while avoiding Kaidoh.

While Fuji didn't usually analyze situations in statistics, he knew poor odds when he saw them. If something dramatic didn't happen soon, Fuji would need a plan B. Inui losing meant he would not only be unable to teach Kirihara the lesson he so richly deserved, but the bet would be completely dissolved. For months, all Fuji had thought of was the look on Atobe's face when he shoved the plane tickets right back into that professionally manicured hand. He hoped it would be one of unadulterated fear, preferably laced with dread.

Not that the chance to get to Germany wasn't tempting, but Fuji knew there were other ways. If Inui lost this match, he might borrow one of his notebooks and sell a copy to Son Rodolfo. But Atobe's funding wouldn't do. Atobe needed to know exactly the degree to which he had offended the tensai and that there was no way in hell he'd be buying his safety.

Tezuka had demanded Atobe go unharmed. Fuji reasoned that a few decades of chronic paranoia was not technically 'harm.'

And he'd be starting from scratch again if Inui didn't get his act together. At this rate Tezuka would be back before he found another suitable loophole in the buchou's anti-vengeance policy.

"Oy, Fuji-kun!" Fuji turned, catching the ball in his hand. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the bouncing orange mop of hair heading towards him. Jirou stopped a safe distance from the practice area, though he couldn't seem to hold still for more than an eighth of a second. He hopped from his left foot to his right as he spoke.

"Akutagawa-kun. Is Atobe with you?"

"Nah, Hiyoshi's mom drove a bunch of us down here. Atobe said he'd stop by if anything interesting was going to happen. You know how he likes to make an entrance." That was the understatement of the year. Jirou's voice sounded innocent enough, but his sudden appearance couldn't possibly be a coincidence. "Are you warming up for your match? I'll play with you!"

"Thank you, but I'm fine for the moment." Fuji served at the wall again, but to his amazement, Jirou was suddenly on the court, tripping over his own feet and hitting a perfect volley back to the wall that soared neatly over the tensai's left shoulder.

"Ah gomen! I didn't mean to lose it!" Jirou scrambled to his feet and over to his backpack, removing another ball. "Just play a little?" He served to the wall.

Somewhat amused, Fuji returned the ball, and before long the two had developed a unique doubles game against the concrete. Jirou chattered through the plays. "Did you see Marui-kun's match? Isn't that tightrope skill sugoi! Though I suppose not from your perspective... I tried to learn how to do it, but I can't get the spin to knock it to the opponent's side. Do you know how to do it?"

"It's not really my style."

"S'pose not. It's not really mine either. I make fun of Oshitari too much to take someone else's move."

Fuji couldn't help but smile a little more naturally at that. Despite everything, he found he liked Jirou, at least a little. He reasoned that one had to have a heart as black as a Fudomine uniform in a tar pit to not like Jirou at least a little. Still, that was no reason to trust the boy. After a few volleys, Jirou changed the subject. "So, is Tezuka really going to be okay?"

Interesting question. "I never thought a Hyotei player would ask me that."

"I'm not trying to be mean or anything. I just want to know." He returned the ball so it flew easily to Fuji's side of the court.

Fuji debated not answering, but he was now quite curious as to what Atobe's most devoted team member was after. "Tezuka is recovering well. He'll be fine by the time Nationals gets here."

Jirou gave a very genuine sigh of relief. "Thank goodness."

"I shouldn't think that's terribly good news for Hyotei."

"But it means Atobe can stop being all melancholy. He'd never admit it, but he feels really bad about that match. He hasn't bragged about it even once."

Of course not, Fuji reasoned. Few people boasted about incurring the tensai's wrath.

"He really didn't mean to injure your buchou. He thought he'd forfeit."

"Well he doesn't know Tezuka very well then, does he?" Fuji hit the ball back the wall with perhaps a little more force than necessary for a warm-up. Jirou caught it, though.

"No," Jirou laughed. "But he wants to make it up to him. That's why he started this silly wager thing, you know."

Fuji didn't know, and his surprise showed in a return that missed the wall by a quarter of an inch. Jirou dashed after it, catching it before it rolled too far. Make it up to him? What did that mean? Jirou ignored his own words and served at the wall again. Fuji let the silence hold for a few volleys.

Finally, the tensai asked, "How exactly was he planning on making it up to Tezuka?"

Jirou turned to stare quizzically at Fuji, missing the ball at first, but tumbling backwards to catch it. After recovering his feet, he said, "With you of course. You know he wants you to win the bet, right?"

"Of course," Fuji replied, serving again.

"Do you know why?"

"Tezuka mentioned something about him thinking I was trying to cause him some harm. I assumed he was trying to prevent that."

Jirou laughed. "Yeah, that too. Mostly, though, he knows you could help Tezuka recover faster. But he also knew you'd never take his money, so he started the bet."

Fuji remained skeptical. Atobe didn't believe in selfless acts. Atobe believed in nothing without a distinct and overpowering sense of 'self.' "He told you all this?"

"Nah, I had to figure it out for myself." Jirou chuckled as he returned with a backhand. "Atobe doesn't like to admit that sometimes he's a nice guy."

"So if he didn't want me to know, why are you telling me?"

A few more volleys before Jirou answered. "I just thought that if you didn't already know, you should. Atobe's not trying to bribe you or anything, and he does want Tezuka to be okay. I don't know if it makes any difference to you, but I thought you should know."

"Mn."

They played a little while longer before Jirou announced. "The break's almost over. You should probably get back if you wanted to see Inui-san's match."

Fuji caught the ball. "I suppose you're right. Will you be watching?"

"Nah, data tennis makes me sleepy. Should I make Ohtori-kun wake me up for your match? Are you going to do anything cool?"

"Probably. Kirihara isn't likely to make the match an easy one. And I'll need to drag it out a bit."

"Sugoi! I'll see you after the games then. Atobe'll probably show up for the last one." Jirou waved and bounced back towards the area Hyotei had staked out to observe the matches.

So, even Atobe had someone who genuinely cared about him. It wasn't going to get him completely off of Fuji's blacklist, but it was ... cute. And Atobe attempting a surreptitious good deed ... Today was full of surprises. At this rate, a Seigaku comeback hardly seemed unlikely. He headed back towards the courts, feeling a little better than when he'd left.