"These rules are top secret," Atobe said, "so we're going to have to transport you to an area of the upmost secrecy."

The regulars perked up at the idea of getting to ride a limo or a helicopter.

"We'll be walking," Atobe added. "You are not worthy of ore-sama's helicopter."

The regulars were too offended to show outright disappointment, but inside, they were all thinking: Damn.

It was a long, annoying walk, and even more annoying when they realized that Atobe had essentially brought them to a large field in the middle of nowhere. No chairs, no television—not even a tennis court.

"Okay, rules," Shiraishi said. "First of all, no defying the captains. Repeat after me: I. May. Not. Defy. The. Captains."

There was a chorus of mumbles from the crowd, and Shiraishi nodded, satisfied.

There was a pause.

". . . that's it?" Marui asked. "That's the only rule?"

"Well, yes," Shiraishi replied. "That's the only important factor in the entire competition. You obey us. That's all."

"And if we choose not to obey you?" Momoshiro challenged.

The captains (except Tezuka, because he was too busy being stoic) stepped up and punched their fists into the palms of their hands menacingly. "We will . . ."

Then they pulled out tennis racquets from a fifth dimension and said, ". . . kick your ass in a game of tennis."

Momoshiro made a sad face.

"On second thought," Yukimura said . . . thoughtfully, "we should have another rule. Anyone who annoys the captains shall be assigned to The Corner of Shame. For an undetermined period of time."

Eiji looked at Momo in horror. "Oh, Momo!" he wailed. "Don't go to the corner of shame!"

"Capitalized," Yukimura said firmly. "It's The Corner of Shame. Not the corner of shame."

Eiji arched an eyebrow in confusion. "How can you even tell?"

Atobe stepped forward and folded his arms. "The Corner of Shame. Now."

"But there's no corner!" Kintarou protested. "How can we go to the corner if there's no corner? We're outside! We're not even on the tennis courts! We're . . . in an area of isolated isolation."

"The Corner of Shame," Yukimura ordered. "Just find some especially isolated area in this area of isolated isolation and be isolated. Go." He waved vaguely to some area, and the shamed three trudged along. Then, addressing the other players, Yukimura continued, "This area is where we'll be meeting, generally. Because our talent competition will require anything from strip dancing to jumping off a plane, our performance locations will vary. Sometimes, we'll use this plain. Other times, we'll bust into buildings illegally. Maybe blow them up. Who knows?" He shrugged, like he was wondering whether or not it would rain on Saturday.

The regulars oohed and ahhed at the thought of blowing something up.

Yukimura looked pleased. "I thought you all might like that idea."

"Anyway," Shiraishi said, "it's all pretty simple. We'll give you the specific guidelines for each round, and you'll just have to follow them. Be creative." He paused. "But not too creative, because then we might get sued."

Atobe nodded. "And ore-sama doesn't want to have to give up his best lawyers—or even his worst lawyers—to help you."

Tezuka looked like he'd have rolled his eyes if he weren't so insanely stoic, and said, "Shouldn't we give them the rules for the first round?"

"Right, right," Yukimura agreed. "Okay. For the first round, we'll be focusing on singing."

The regulars stared blankly.

"Singing," Yukimura emphasized. "You know, doing that thing where you kind of change the pitch in your tone to make it sound pretty?"

"We know what singing is," Hiyoshi replied. "But why?"

Yukimura folded his arms and looked extremely, extremely annoyed. "Who in the world are you, anyway?" he demanded softly in his soft voice which shouldn't have been possible but was possible because he was Yukimura. "There are too many irrelevant people here. Didn't I tell the captains only to invite the relevant people?"

"He's relevant," Atobe said halfheartedly. "Ish."

"Anyway, we're making you sing because it will be amusing for the captains," Shiraishi answered. "That's all you need to know."

"And there are two of us per group," Niou piped up. "How are we supposed to sing with two people?"

"A duet," Tezuka said flatly.

Atobe paused. "No," he decided. "That's too boring. We should make it a skit."

"A skit?" the regulars whined.

"Yes, a skit," Atobe said firmly.

"I like that idea," Yukimura commented. "That's a very, very good idea."

"You'll have to pick songs from a hat," Shiraishi noted. "We wouldn't want you all to pick the same song, or something like that."

Yuushi looked wary. "The songs will be… reasonable, won't they? You won't condemn us to sing a Disney song, or something equally disgracing?"

Fuji's smile was wicked. "I think that's a brilliant idea."

"I don't," Yuushi said hurriedly. "I don't."

"You'll have to wait and see," Yukimura said dismissively. "Sanada, I'll need your sacred hat again."

Sanada grudgingly took off his cap, gave it one last forlorn look, and handed it over.

"You'll be judged on creativity, your singing capabilities, enthusiasm… all that jazz," Shiraishi explained. "If it's stupid and boring, expect to get kicked out. And if you make it stupid and boring on purpose in order to get kicked out because you don't want to participate, expect to get kicked out of the tennis club. We'll know if you're faking it."

The regulars gasped like they'd just been ordered to stab a kitten, then jump off a bridge.

"You'll have roughly two days to prepare," Tezuka said. "The first round will begin two days from today. You will perform your skit at the Hyotei auditorium. We, as the judges, will be your only audience."

"Two days? That's it?" Shishido protested. "That's like, nothing!"

"Two days should be okay," Choutarou said quietly. "I mean, this is a demonstration of our abilities to work with other people and to think on our feet, isn't it? I think it should be fine."

The rest of the regulars stared at Choutarou, like they weren't sure whether they ought to commend him for being so noble, or whack him upside the head for being so naïve.

While they weren't looking, Atobe and Shiraishi scribbled a bunch of songs on tiny slips of paper, and shoved the inordinate scraps into Sanada's hat against all laws of physics, looking absurdly pleased with themselves. "Let's go," Shiraishi ordered. "One representative from each group. Pick a song."

"Can I go first?" Akaya asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Please please please please please can I go first?"

"No," Jackal said firmly. "With your luck, you're going to end up picking something like… like… like Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid, and then we're actually going to have to sing that, and you might have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, but I do, and I refuse to sing that!"

Akaya held up both of his hands, eyebrows raised. "Geez, chill. I won't go first."

Jackal mumbled something about being bald in reply.

"It doesn't matter who goes first," Atobe said, annoyed. "If one of you doesn't volunteer to go first, then I'm just going to pick random songs and assign them to you. And I will give you all terrible songs just out of spite."

"What do you have to be spiteful for?" Yuuji asked. "It's not like you're on the verge of losing all your dignity." He was still clinging and cuddling with Oishi's arm, who looked rather traumatized.

Atobe put a hand on his hips. "You are delaying my amusement," he replied, "and that annoys me."

"I'll go first," Fuji volunteered. "If that's okay with you, Chitose?"

Chitose nodded. "It's fine."

So the brunette skipped forward, and rainbows and sunshine trailed after him. "I wonder what song I'll get," he mused, and reached into the (extremely shallow) hat. The slip of paper he pulled out was folded into tiny, tiny squares, and he unfolded it with agonizing meticulousness.

"What song is it?" someone shouted from the back of the anxious crowd.

Fuji beamed. "Chitose and I will be singing a ballade. Check Yes Juliet." He gave a look at Atobe. "Why did you put American songs in here?"

Atobe shrugged in an elegantly careless manner that only he could pull off. "It's a nice song," he said. "You'll find that there are Russian songs, Japanese songs, American songs, French songs, opera and rap, pop and classical music... Be awed by ore-sama's musical tastes."

"How the heck would one sing classical music?" Marui demanded. "Nutjob."

"The Corner of Shame," Atobe commanded.

"Fine! At least in The Corner of Shame, I'll be safely away from Jiroh."

"No," Jiroh wailed. "Atobe, can I go to The Corner of Shame, too?"

"As you like," Atobe said graciously.

"Yay!" And he bounded happily after Marui, who gave a groan of annoyance and walked a little faster.

"Well? Who's next?"