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I sigh, leaning on the headboard of the hospital bed, missing the regulars who had filled my head with incessant babble. They had long left, leaving me to take care of the medical tests myself. The usual sonogram and blood tests left me with warm, gooey gel on my stomach and a bruised inner elbow while I grew increasingly bored.

I felt bad for yelling at Keigo. I knew how far back we went and that it was only natural for him to worry. And yet, I was adamantly steadfast in what I said. We were separate people and that's how it was supposed to be.

There was a soft knock on the door and it creaked open. I glanced up. Keigo's parents were in the doorway, smiling.

"Hello," Mrs. Atobe said in English.

I had always called them Mr. and Mrs. Atobe, even though they insisted I should not. They claimed it made them feel old. They had always talked to me in English.

"Hi," I murmured shyly in the same language. "It's nice to see both of you again."

"We're checking you out," Mr. Atobe nodded. "You're staying with us tonight, and then you can go home tomorrow."

I frowned, thinking of how I yelled at Keigo. Well, this would all be awkward.

Mrs. Atobe smiled knowingly, "He's in the car, waiting."

Car? So, it must be a limo.

"We will just wait for you to change, and then we'll leave," Mr. Atobe added.

They stepped out of the room and the door swung shut with a click.

I grabbed my clothes that the nurse had put on the side table a while earlier. My new favorite jacket took its rightful place, wrapped around my shoulders, as I slid off the paper hospital gown and pulled on my jeans and boots. I ruffled my hair, standing up and stalking towards the door to my freedom.

Opening the door, I looked left and right to find where Keigo's parents went. They were nowhere in sight. Furrowing my brows, I chose to turn right and try to find them in the hallway. The pediatric care area was not that big and circled the whole floor. Passing by several doors including one with a slender bluenette, I searched for what I considered my second-parents.

A slender bluenette?

I quickly backtracked and pressed my face against the window to Yukimura's door. He sat quietly, back against the headboard and looking out the window. I swung the door open, not bothering to be hushed.

He turned his head and muttered, "Oh, it's you."

I shook my head with a lopsided smile. Sitting on a chair next to his bed, I raised an eyebrow, not bothering to voice the unanswered question.

"They don't know," Yukimura responds.

The slender blunette looked so vulnerable without his façade. His hands were clasped together, his eyes were wide, and his usual smile was absent.

"They say they want to do a few tests tomorrow, so I might be in the hospital a while," he continues, biting his lip. "The team doesn't know, and they think there's practice tomorrow. I don't know what to say."

"Let Sanada handle it," I suggest, knowing it was better to talk about a safe topic. "He's the vice-captain."

He looks at me, visibly amused, "For a vice-captain, you really don't treat him as one."

I shrug, grinning, "Well, what would be the fun in that? Besides, he's not my vice-captain. I'm technically my own captain."

"Of a non-existent team," he retorts back. "Besides, I can't. He's so stoic, he won't know how to handle it if I tell him that I could be in the hospital for a while."

"You have his number, don't you?"

"What kind of captain do you think I am?"

"Call him and tell him and the rest of the team to meet tomorrow next to the pool at school at 10:00 in the morning. Tell them to bring tennis rackets, normal tennis stuff, and swim gear. I'll take care of it from there," I stand up, realizing that I had completely forgotten about Keigo's parents. I interrupt Yukmimura's attempt to protest, "It's my get-well present, captain to fellow captain."

He slumps his shoulders, yet to pull on his famous façade that puzzled me, "Very well then, if you insist."

I smile, knowing I had won the battle but not the war as I slipped out to door to find Keigo's parents.

I found the pair standing next to the coffee machine, grimacing at the taste of the strong liquid in their cups.

"I'm so sorry," I bowed my head.

"Don't worry about it," Mr. Atobe smiles gently, waving his cup of coffee in the air. "We needed to wake up so we walked around the floor."

I follow the two as they slide into the elevator and punch the button for the ground floor. We stood in comfortable silence and I gripped the horizontal pole at waist level, not liking how the floor moved beneath my feet.

I had known the pair for what seemed like forever. Mr. Atobe, with his naturally silvery-grey hair looked like an older version of Keigo. I don't think I had ever seen him wearing anything other but a suit or tuxedo. He was poised and powerful, the true representation of a member of the Atobe family. He was only self-centered around people he was not close to, similar to Keigo, except he always opened up much faster. He towered over me, at least a foot taller, and he was a hardworker, inspiring Keigo to succeed at everything he did. Mrs. Atobe was the complete opposite, and yet oddly. She was always graceful, beautiful, and intelligent. Her dark purplish-grey hair was completely natural and she was known as the more talkative out of the two. She dominated on Japan's social scene, and was a considerable asset to the Atobe family's power and economic wealth. She could charm people like no other, and yet she was diligent as well. People often underestimated her, even if she was part of the Atobe family, and they were often taken aback when she revealed she had a degree from both Cambridge and Oxford and managed the family business when Mr. Atobe was unable to. To me, they had been a set of second parents. Their titles had never mattered.

The elevator stopped with a chime, opening to a floor with gentle, natural light flowing through the windows. The sun was setting and the sky was painted with a hue of warm colors. We passed by the check-in desk and the staff turned to look at the famous Atobe duo, with a relatively unknown girl following them. I internally groaned, knowing that the tabloids would not hesitate to dig up my past and figure out who I am.

The sliding doors opened to fresh air and I took a deep breath, savoring the warm weather and the Japanese sky. They duo stop at a metallic gray Ferrari parked in front of the building, and Mrs. Atobe slides her seat forward so I could slide in.

Huh, so maybe not a limo.

I plop down on the leather seat, a safe distance away from Keigo who was looking directly at the head of the seat in front of him. Mr. and Mrs. Atobe dump themselves on the seats, letting their cover of a powerful pair fall and their normal nature take over.

I settle into the 458italia dual-colored leather seats, letting Mr. Atobe zoom away.

Yeah, that's right. I speak car.

"Anyone hungry?" Mrs. Atobe smiles, turning around halfway in her seat, restrained by her seatbelt.

Keigo and I perk up at the same time and she smirks, "Well settle down. We have thirty minutes before we get home."

Mr. Atobe frowns, "I can make it twenty."

"Don't you dare speed," she warns. "Just because I let you get this car does not mean we are drag racing on the streets of Japan."

"Does that make it alright in England?" he teases.

She shoots him a glare that effectively makes him quiet, but the smile still adorned his face, breaking the normal seriousness that was characterized of the Atobe male. He was constantly working as the founder and CEO of Atobe family business, which dominated in Japan and had a decent influence in Europe. It was an unspoken agreement that Keigo would grow up to take over the company, and that forced Keigo to attempt to be the best at everything he did.

"Mrs. Atobe," I interrupt the silence in the sleek car, "is it alright if I am back home tomorrow by 9:00 AM? I'm running practice for the tennis team tomorrow."

"What happened to concentrating on swimming?" she asks. "I thought you quit tennis years ago."

"Yeah, I did," I tilt my head to stretch my neck. "But the swim coach wants me to practice with the guys tennis team to strengthen my arms because he knows I can play."

"That should be fine," Mr. Atobe replies. "The nurses just wanted us to keep an eye on you for tonight."

I could feel the oppressing guilt of not telling them take over and I fell silent, embarrassed.

"It's alright Jade," Mrs. Atobe says in her calming voice. "I wouldn't have told anyone either if I were you. There's too much at stake in my life in yours and you've been going through a lot."

I felt the relief practically lift off my shoulders.

"Thank you for understanding," I murmur, still slightly guilty.

That's why she was one of the most powerful women in Japan. With just a few words, she could twist your emotions into anything she favored.

I could see Keigo's emotions reflect across his face from the corner of my eye. He turned to look through the window, slouching in his seat. I rest my head against the comfortable headrest and close my eyes, letting the gentle purr of the engine lull me into a state of half-consciousness.

I stayed awake, but only semi-aware of the people a few feet away from me. The hushed voices and Keigo's unusually tentative tone surrounded me as the illustrious vehicle sped through the city and into the countryside to the Atobe mansion.

I felt the sports car slow to a stop and fluttered my eyes open, taking in the impressive metalwork of a gate to the mansion. The entrance swung open and Mr. Atobe parked the car in front of the mansion and threw a servant the keys. I fingered the handle of the door, wanting to stay inside the glorious machine a while longer. The other three obviously did not share my sentiments as they stepped out right away, forcing me to trail behind. The swirls of the gate shut behind the car and the butler drove the car away as I delicately stepped toward the looming mansion. No matter how many times I had visited the mansion, it would always be huge in my head. Another butler opened the door and I traced the Atobe family's footsteps through the door.

"Come with me Jade," Mrs. Atobe pulls me aside. "We'll get you dressed for dinner. You know how we like to be formal for dinner. Let me see if any of my old dresses would fit you."

I groan and she smiles, knowing how much I hated dressing up.

"It's just for about an hour," she encourages as I follow her into a separate hallway branching off from the main foyer. The elegant woman opens a door with an ornate handle.

Everything in the house is ornate, delicate, or expensive.

Walking across the plush, vanilla-colored carpet, she flings open a closet and ruffles through. "This is some of my old clothes that I thought I would save," she explains. "Stupid, I know, but I just had a feeling that I should have."

I smile and shake my head at her unexpected connections to her clothes, probably because every piece had something important of her past in it. Most people would consider it materialism, and normally I would too, but Mrs. Atobe was so above materialism. She kept the clothes as bookmarks to memories.

"Ah, this one. I remember wearing this the night I realized I was pregnant with Keigo," she fingers an old-school black low-turtleneck column dress that would hit mid-thigh. "You probably don't like turtlenecks, but this won't itch and the cloth ends right before your actual neck. You should wear this tonight."

She swoops down, below the rack of clothes and pulls out gold high-heels, "Know I absolutely know you hate heels, but these are easy to balance in." The strappy, elegant heels look gorgeous and like my worst nightmare at the same time. The dress was already a nightmare enough, as it probably reached to her knees when she wore it. She would look so graceful in it. I was honored to wear a dress that had meant so much to her, but I did not feel adequate to wear her metaphorical shoes, her actual shoes, and a piece of clothing that held an important memory.

"Thank you," I smile, taking the heels and the dress from her hands and the feeling of terror simply built. One simply does not say no to Mrs. Atobe.

"I'll be in the dining room in fifteen minutes. We may or may not have guests. I am not exactly sure. This is also your room for tonight," she calls, already stalking away towards the door. She shuts it with a click before I can reply and I sigh, pulling off my comfortable jacket, my skinny jeans, and my favorite combat boots. The black dress stuck to my curves and hugged my hips slightly, before ending mid-thigh. It was unbelievably classy and stylish at the same time, and if I had a good dress sense, I would have bought this if it was hanging on the rack in a store. Finger combing my hair, I sat down on a bench and gently secured the straps over my feet and buckled the thin strip that kept my feet from sliding out of the shoe and breaking into a million pieces.

Yeah, I'm dramatic. Sue me.

I look back at the bench next to the closet full of her clothes. It would probably be better if I folded my clothes and left them on the bench.

I creased my outfit into a neat stack and put my boots on top, leaving an easy marker for finding my clothes later. I stride past the four-posted bed with a thick comforter delicately embroidered, push open the door, and retrace my steps towards the foyer while feeling oddly comfortable in the cushioned gold heels.

I push my side bangs out of my eyes and nearly walk into Kabaji.

Kabaji?

I look around him and see the rest of Keigo's tennis team behind him. My eyes widen.

"Oh no," I murmur in English. "When she said guests, she couldn't possibly mean…." I trail off.

Oshitari's glasses gleam as he traces over my dress. I quickly step behind Kabaji and stalk back into the hallway I had come through, my hair sliding on my back and my feet delicately balancing in the three-inch gold heels.

"Nope," I frown, shaking my head. "Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not dealing with this right now."

"Ms. Klysen," a maid suddenly stops me in my tracks by coming out of a door right in front of me. She curtseys and speaks in an English accent, "It would be my pleasure to escort you to the dining room."

I grimace, my plan thwarted. "I don't suppose I could say I had a stomachache and sleep early."

She grins, "I am so sorry but Mr. Atobe warned me to not let you do that."

I quickly turn, exasperated, and emerge from the hallways yet again, but this time biting my cheek.

The tennis team still stands there, looking out of place in dress clothes with half of them gazing up at the high ceilings and decorations. The other half looked at me, probably wondering why I was here. I snorted as Jirou yawned and pulled at his tie, his shirt not even tucked in.

I follow the maid as she took us through the maze that was known as the Atobe mansion and we stop before a door.

"Ms. Klysen," a butler in front of the door bows. "I am to inform you that Mr. Atobe and Mrs. Atobe would like to eat with you, but believe that it is better for you to eat with the people your age. They deeply regret not telling you earlier and Mrs. Atobe says she wishes she could see you in the dress."

I smile at the last comment, even if internally I am frowning. I like to eat with the Atobe duo. They were amazing conversationalists, and never made me feel awkward by my younger age. They treated me like adults. They probably needed some privacy and to be away from people other than themselves because they had a long day though.

I nod my head at the butler and let the formal language flow over my tongue, "Send them my regards and wishes, and tell Mrs. Atobe that I will find her to display the dress before I retire for the night."

Oshitari whispers in English so that only I could hear, "I didn't think you were so well conversed in the snobby formalities."

I smile slightly at his surprise.

Meanwhile, the butler bows again and opens the door to the formal dining room, where Keigo was already perched at the head of the table. Typical.

My hips sway as I stride into the room as if I owned the place, letting my air of influence clash with Keigo's. The rest of the team pulled out their chairs and sat on the sides of the table as the previous butler pulled out a chair at the opposing head of the table, just for me.

I didn't like the preferential treatment, even if I was trying to show up Keigo.

I smile and mumble my gratitude before he walks away.

"You look good," Keigo says in Japanese, looking down and not bothering to stare me in the eye. I was not even sure if he was referring to me. He was treading on thin ice with the Japanese, and he knew it.

"I know," I shoot back matter-of-factly, my shoulders back and back straight, gazing at his face before sweeping my eyes along the sides of the table.

I lingered on a guy with chin-length, straight, brownish hair. He smiled back and introduced himself in Japanese, "I am Taki. I don't believe we have met yet, though it appears that everyone else here has met you."

"Interesting," I noted out loud. "You're quite perceptive."

I didn't bother to say my name back.

"I wasn't sure if we were having a formal team meeting over dinner," Keigo shrugs as malicious intent flickers over his face. "But it should keep me from caring over your every single move," he finishes with a slight snarl.

The rest of the team raises their eyebrows, surprised at the lack of our easy banter that occurred last time they saw Keigo and I talking.

"Well at least I have people to care about other than one person that I have known for forever," I retort back, my mouth in a straight line as the maids serve us with what smells like a cream of mushroom soup.

I easily pick the soup spoon from the flatware on the sides of the plate and cross one of my legs over the other, watching in amusement as a few of the tennis players tried to pick between the various spoons. In their defense, I would not have known either had my father insisted that I know how to eat formally.

On my left, Shishido held up three spoons to the chandelier above the table, comparing sizes.

I giggled, "It's the one on the right."

"Thanks," he mumbled, dropping the other spoons and dunking the third one into his soup.

I have to say I was surprised that most of them knew which utensil to use, but then I remembered Keigo saying that he went to a school where almost everyone was rich and had influential parents. So maybe it wasn't so surprising.

I couldn't lie and say that I found Shishido's reaction as a breath of fresh air and charming in its own way.

"You know," Keigo says threateningly and yet tinged with a bit of emotion, "it's your behavior like this that makes me wish that you would just be a normal person and let people look after you."

I huff and set my spoon down, eyes narrowed, "Do I have to remind you? I am not your pet. Maybe it is time that you realize that we are equal."

I could nearly feel the electricity cackling between us, separated by several feet of wood and several tennis players that looked down awkwardly at their soup.

"Well," he pauses and struggles to find words. "Well you're an ugly face."

I nearly spit out a mouthful of soup at his attempt of a jab and force myself to swallow, "Says the one with purplish gray hair."

He frowns, "You think my mother's hair is elegant and mine is the same color."

"Are you your mother? Are you trying to tell me you are a girl? Maybe I should call you Kei-chan."

He points at me with his spoon, "Why are you so frustrating?"

I smile innocently back and bat my eyelashes, "Because, and I quote, '"I am an ugly face.'"

He throws his hands up in the air, "Yeah, well maybe you and your ugly face need to see that sometimes people care, and that doesn't mean that you're not equal. It just means that people are there for you."

I could hear his silent, slightly reluctant, words hidden behind the words he said aloud. I'm sorry, and I just did that because I care.

"Maybe it's slightly oppressing, you know? You, my brother, my grandmother, the tabloids. I just need to make my own decisions sometimes, and living by myself has let me do that." I know you are, but I need you to understand.

"Fine, but don't come running back when you're in trouble," he snaps, letting his cold demeanor only show in his voice while his face remains slack and eyes full of sentiment. I think I do understand, and I'll be here if you need me.

"Fine," I wrinkle my nose. I know.

"Fine." You suck at ending conversations sometimes.

"Good." Oh please, how would you end a conversation like this?

"Good." I'm going to ignore that.

"Well," Oshitari drawls. "Not that I don't like to see endearing arguments and Klysen-san in a dress, but why are we here?"

I think I'll ignore his comment about me in a dress. The butler clears the soup bowls and skims the table with a plate of stuffed chicken. Picking up a fork, I attack the creamy spinach stuffing inside the animal protein and the asparagus next to the piece of meat.

"Team meeting," he shrugs. "We'll talk about it after the food. I didn't originally plan for her to be here."

"I'm right here," I remind Keigo, protesting. "Besides, I am staying over for the night. You're not getting rid of me," I wave my fork, teasing, while raising my glass to my mouth.

"Friends with benefits?" Oshitari slides his glasses up his nose. "I think I read about that in my latest novel."

I start coughing, spluttering water, and I attempt to cover my lack of grace with a napkin. Shishido gets up and pats my back awkwardly, trying to stop my coughing while Keigo yells at Oshitari for that "unruly and disgusting comment."

"Thanks," I finally gasp, my eyes watering, to Shishido, looking up at him with his long hair partially tied back. He nods and plops back on to his seat.

Mukahi shoots a meaningful look to Shishido, one that I couldn't descipher.

Chotorou interrupts, his messy gray hair and doleful brown eyes looking at his captain. "Are we going to talk about lineups for the regional tournament?"

"Yes," Keigo agrees

My eyebrows furrow as I swallow, "Haven't you just finished the pre-district tournament? The prefectural tournament should be your foremost concern, not regional."

Mukahi jumps in, "Most of us are not playing until regionals. We have the pre-regulars cover for us until we get there."

I shake my head, "And what if a dark horse team comes and blows you guys away?"

"It won't happen," Oshitari replies. "The likelihood is too low."

"Usu," Kabaji nods.

I don't bother to respond and put a piece of asparagus in my mouth and chew, thinking when someone beat them, that they would be devastated.

"But on to lighter matters," Keigo dismisses my concern, "I heard from a little bird that two dimwits from Rikkaidai thought you were pregnant today."

Forks clatter against plates in shock. Choruses of "you're pregnant?!" and "oh my god" echo around the formal dining room.

I close my eyes in annoyance, knowing Keigo did that to irritate me and make me amused at the same time. Unfortunately, it was mainly the former.

"Yes, well, I am a bit close to those two dimwits. Niou misinterpreted when he heard the word 'pregnant' in a joke from Marui. And Akaya…well Akaya may or may not have questioned me for five minutes about the identity of the father." I so hate you for bringing that up, Keigo.

"How amusing," Keigo grins. Laugh, it's funny.

"And no," I answer the unvoiced question, "I am not pregnant and nor was I suspected to ever be."

Shishido snaps at his team members, "And why would it matter if she was?"

I chuckle at his reaction while I clean my plate of the remaining bit of food. The butler lifts the empty plate and replaces it with a piece of decadent cheesecake. Jirou visibly brightens out of his stupor at the sight of dessert.

I lift my spoon and shove a generous bit into my mouth, letting the sweet creaminess loiter on my tongue. I glance up to see Keigo raising an eyebrow at me.

"You're about to ask me if I should really be eating this, shouldn't you?" I ask, about to take another bite.

"Well, yeah. Don't you have districts next weekend?"

I shrug, "Don't I lose more calories than two of you guys put together in one practice?"

"Touché," he grins. "At least you don't complain about how fat you will get when you eat. I can't tell you how many times I've heard that."

"If I ever say that, punch me," I reply.

"I'll hold you accountable to that statement."

I scrape my spoon across the plate to get the last bits of the cheesecake and I lick the crumbs off before pushing my chair back.

"Well, if you excuse me, I'm afraid I have had a very long day and I need to find Mrs. Atobe."

"Save the formal language Sapphire, just because we're wearing fancy clothes doesn't mean you need to act out of place like these idiots" Keigo twists his mouth while gesturing to the teammates.

They protest as I step out of the room, a slight smile on my face. He had called me Sapphire again. So, I guess everything really was okay.

I twirl in front of Mrs. Atobe as she nods in approval, "I must say, it looks amazing on you. I think you should keep the dress and the shoes."

"Oh no, I couldn't. It means too much to you," I say, objecting.

"Yes, it does. But you look quite good in it," she insists.

"No," I repeat firmly. "I won't take this memory from you."

She smiles, "I didn't think you realized that I attached memories to certain clothes. You are very perceptive, you know," she rubs my shoulder like my mom used to. Suddenly, I was at a loss for words. "Maybe you should go to sleep Jade, you've had a long day. There's a door to a bathroom in your room, and it should be stocked with a toothbrush and other necessary items. I trust you can find your way there, yes?"

I nod, "Thank you so much Mrs. Atobe. I am very grateful."

"Nonsense," she waves her hand dismissively. "You're always welcome here and I know you know that."

I smile at her, before leaving the main foyer that I had found her in and entering the hallway to my temporary room. I quickly stripped and slid on the shorts and t-shirt on the bench next to the closet and hung up the beautiful dress that meant so much to Mrs. Atobe. The shoes took their rightful place on the rack beneath the gorgeous fabrics and I slid the door closed. Going to the bathroom, I did whatever was necessary to make myself feel clean before pulling the plush embroidered covers back and collapsing into a deep slumber.

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