InsaneJournal

Pot fic: A Resolution Seldom Framed
Title: A Resolution Seldom Framed

Fandom: TAT (Shut. Up.)

Rating: G

Status: WIP

Summary: The road to happiness is not without thorns. Or thorny roses.

Author's Notes: I know, I know, "yet another story she won't ever finish" you ask? Well...what can I say? I was randomly inspired. Also, because I feel extra spiteful after wankery and am driven by the need to put that spite to use.

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The problem with being sane when he lived in a world of insanity, Tezuka mused as he crunched on a piece of ice and watched Atobe push Shishido into the pool and thereby causing a domino effect when Shishido dragged Ohtori who dragged Mukahi who in turn dragged Jirou who was followed by Marui, Yagyuu, Sanada, Yanagi, Tachibana, then Kamio dove after Tachibana which caused Momoshirou to follow and along with Echizen and Tooyama who was followed by Shiraiishi and Chitose who tried to pull him along but Tezuka jumped back in time to avoid the catastrophe and finish the thought, was that sanity tend to be regarded as insanity, as proved when Atobe smirked at him.

Tezuka was not blind to the fact that the greater part of Japan’s junior high tennis teams had congregated at Atobe’s mansion at his request, with Shishigaku noticeably absent.

When Tezuka applied for junior high, he’d been very careful with selection. He’d thought he’d made the best choice possible, what with Rikkai’s Spartan reputation, Hyoutei’s arrogance, Fudomine’s violence, Yamabuki’s Akutsu and St. Rudolph’s Mizuki, Higa’s distance, Rokkaku’s lackadaisical training regime, and Shitenhouji’s…Kansai-ness. Seigaku had looked like a good choice, a reasonable choice, a sane choice. Oishi had decided on Seigaku.

He hadn’t counted on Oishi being corrupted by Kikumaru. Or the appearance of Inui. Or Fuji.

And then second year brought him a monkey and snake pair, and Tezuka wondered what he’d done to anger the gods, because this much insanity smelled too much of divine punishment to be coincidental.

So of course his third year brought with it a snotty American brat who apparently made a hobby out of taunting his superiors and forging rivalries with schools who hadn’t bothered with Seigaku before and suddenly his club door was being banged down by people Tezuka hadn’t ever heard of, demanding a chance to play against the child prodigy. Except for Atobe.

Atobe had demanded that Seigaku come for his parties.

That had stopped after the nationals when Atobe was seething over Echizen’s win and for reasons beyond Tezuka’s understanding, blamed the entire incident on him.

“The rotten apple spoils the barrel,” Atobe had sneered at him over the phone and told him Seigaku wasn’t invited to his post-Nationals celebration.

Two days later, Atobe had showed up on his doorstep demanding why Tezuka didn’t respond when the invitation letter clearly stated RSVP ASAP. Tezuka couldn’t do more than blink.

“Can you not read, Tezuka? Or is basic social courtesy beyond your capabilities?” Atobe had raved and Tezuka replied that Atobe had forbid Seigaku from going so he didn’t think an additional reply was necessary.

Atobe’s scoff spoke volumes about his estimation of Tezuka’s intelligence.

“But you are not Seigaku,” Atobe went on to explain with the air of one under long sufferance. “I invited you, not your tennis club.”

“But I go to Seigaku,” Tezuka had tried to explain, which Atobe immediately cut off with an impatient gesture.

“Just come in your name. Or is that too much to ask, your loftiness?”

Tezuka didn’t think Atobe had any room to talk. But nonetheless, he agreed and Atobe had parted with one last order, “Bring a friend, it’s supposed to be a social event.”

So Tezuka had asked Oishi who agreed under the condition that Kikumaru comes as they’ve become attached at the hip (literally, something about this being part of Inui’s infamous training regime). Then Kikumaru insisted that if Tezuka was bringing his best friend, then Kikumaru should get to bring his, and Fuji had insisted that Kawamura be brought along to save him from the harsh trainings of becoming a sushi chef and that was all the invitation Momoshirou needed. With Momoshirou came Echizen, with whom he was only figuratively attached at the hip and Kaidoh insisted that if Momoshirou was going then he most certainly refused to be left out. And where Kaidoh can be found, there was little hope of escaping Inui.

Thus, the entire team of Seigaku regulars had showed up at Atobe’s mansion earlier that day and his butler had commented that wasn’t it nice that Atobe-bochama had so many friends to celebrate the end of the National’s Tournament.

Tezuka didn’t get a chance to correct the butler’s mistake, because at that moment, Tooyama Kintarou had leapt out from nowhere, tackled Echizen and chaos followed. There was a sudden swarm of tennis players from a variety of schools and a chatter of how it was about time Seigaku showed up, always being the last to steal the thunder with not a few pointed glances his way.

Atobe stood to one side and looked amused.

When the excitement had moved elsewhere, Atobe approached Tezuka and shoved a glass of lemonade into his hand, bemoaning, “My parents refused to let me provide alcohol because it’s illegal, which is absurd. Who’s ever heard of a law that allows minors to have sex but not alcohol?”

And Tezuka spat the mouthful of lemonade right at Atobe.

“You said that on purpose,” Tezuka accused without rancor and Atobe just smiled unrepentant. He shook himself off and muttered something about changing then disappeared.

The next time Tezuka saw him, Atobe was pushing Shishido into the pool and causing a minor earthquake.

“So, Tezuka,” Atobe asked as casual as you please, as if he hadn’t just pushed a good portion of his party guests into the pool, “now that graduation is upon us, have you considered your high school options?”

“Somewhat,” Tezuka lied, seeing no reason to mention the scholarship offer he’d received or the insistent phone call that had accompanied it.

“Take my advice, transfer to Hyoutei. We’re so much better equipped to satisfy your needs,” Atobe offered without hesitation. Then, dropping his voice lower, he added, “All of them.”

“I’ve considered elsewhere,” Tezuka answered abruptly and pointedly did not look into his glass of lemonade.

Oishi, being the first to surface from the pool, heard the comment and asked, “Not Seigaku?”

Tezuka shook his head. He hadn’t discussed his decision with Oishi, knowing the other boy would have insisted on his staying at Seigaku and history did not point favorably to Oishi’s decisions.

“Then where is the national champion going?” asked Atobe, his voice petulant.

“I’m still debating,” Tezuka equivocated and Atobe’s eyes glinted.

Liar, they said, deceiver, charlatan, falsifier!

Tezuka glared back and hoped Atobe got the message, mind your own business.

So of course Inui had to wander from his Kaidoh stalking in time to comment, “I’m interested as well. We’d all thought you were going to stay in Seigaku and you’ve never given any indication otherwise. You may be conservative with words, but you rarely hide your intentions. The last time you sprung something like this on us…”

Inui’s words trailed off meaningfully and everyone present unconsciously looked at Tezuka’s arm.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” Tezuka answered the unvoiced question. Then continued to explain, “I’ve had some previously unconsidered options open to me recently and I’ve been debating their merits.”

“Where, Tezuka?” Atobe was nothing if not persistent.

“America,” said Tezuka.

The result was a pandemonium. People’s restless movements in the water made the pool surface boil and the land surrounding it was no better. There were limbs everywhere and each person was trying to out talk the other, the voices rising with increasing speed and jumbled words poured over Tezuka, none making any sense. Beside him, Atobe’s agitation was growing, visible by the tick in the corner of his eye and the quivering in the corner of his mouth.

As unobtrusively as possible, Tezuka tugged at Atobe’s shirt and when Atobe finally turned his attention away from the commotion, Tezuka indicated that Atobe should follow him. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to seek privacy to divulge information that was none of Atobe’s business to know, but he nonetheless led the way into the house, away from the madding crowd.

“Well,” Atobe uttered as soon as they had safely entered the relative privacy of Atobe’s mansion. From behind the glass, Tezuka could see what were the beginnings of a water fight.

“There’s a very good reason why I am considering America,” Tezuka answered, not at all phased by the coldness that was emanating from Atobe.

“I’m sure there is,” Atobe commented, the words so cold Tezuka thought he could see them freeze in the air.

Ignoring Atobe’s tone, Tezuka continued, “I think it would be more beneficial if I went to study across the Pacific.”

“Believe me, Tezuka. The last thing you’ll get if you leave for America is an education,” Atobe drawled. “If you don’t believe me, you can go ask that Echizen. He’ll tell you the same.”

“I wasn’t talking about education.”

At this, Atobe’s eyes narrowed, the tick returning to the corner of his eye, but his lips remained still. The quite dragged, unrelenting, as though it was waiting for Tezuka’s explanation, except Tezka had none to give.

Finally, Atobe spoke in Tezuka’s stead, “You’re going to go pro.”

“There’s more room for development in American than in Japan for a tennis career,” Tezuka confirmed without actually agreeing.

“And what of Seigaku?”

Tezuka startled at the question, his face a careful neutral blank.

“What of them?” he asked.

Atobe’s voice was flat as he explained, “They’re still depending on your leadership in the coming years. You think they can win without you there as support? What happened to being Seigaku’s pillar?”

“They have Echizen,” Tezuka answered, “and I’ve completed my duty.”

It was the wrong thing to say, as Atobe’s eyes narrowed in fury, blistering hot in contrast with his earlier coldness as he spat, “Duty? So now you’ve finished and you’re happy to leave them in the hands of that…that runt.”

“What would you know?” Tezuka retorted, hearing the quiver in his voice.

Atobe didn’t, or he did but was too angry to wonder what it meant, and he raved, “What would I know? I know that you don’t leave your team hanging without someone to keep them together. I know you don’t abandon them, ever. I know that a strong team is one that sticks together forever. I know that if a team needs their buchou, you go back!”

“They don’t need me and this is none of your business. This is my choice.” Which was the biggest lie of all.

The last thing Tezuka remembered from that party, was a pair of hateful eyes tampered with disillusion.