cashew (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} cashew) wrote,@ 2008-03-04 20:54:00 |
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PoT fic: A Resolution Seldom Framed Part 3
Title: A Resolution Seldom Framed
Author: Me
Fandom: TAT
Status: WIP
Rating: G
Summary: The road to happiness is not without thorns. Or thorny roses.
Notes: Honestly, I've had about 90% of this chapter written but couldn't find a good place to stop. So yeah, finally figured out how to lead into the next chapter, so here it be! The project that no one is paying any attention to anymore.
Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2
The thing about having Atobe as a classmate was that Tezuka saw him much more often than when he only had Atobe as a tennis rival and the traits that had once been amusing were becoming somewhat bothersome. For example, Atobe, for all of his narcissism, was very much a gossip monger and loved to poke his nose into other people’s business. And since Tezuka was easily available, Atobe had turned the focus of his nosey temperament onto Tezuka’s private life; an attention that had proved to be hard to refocus without Atobe’s cooperation.
The announcement of an intramural tennis tournament was not helping matters.
“Tezuka, if we team up, we can easily win the championship,” Atobe was pestering as he pushed the school lunch in circles on his plate.
Tezuka didn’t deign to dignify Atobe’s suggestion with a response. Instead, he merely pointed out that Atobe needed to eat.
“Eat something nutritious,” Atobe corrected as he waved the fork full of pasta salad at Tezuka and flinging some dressing onto his nose. Then, pointing to the bowl in front of him, he added, “This is not nutritious. I don’t think this can be even classified as food.”
Wiping away the dribbled dressing, Tezuka returned, “It’s a special lunch balanced for nutritional value.”
“Then why don’t ore-sama eat vitamin pills instead, they’re certainly more palatable!” Atobe countered in a screech and caused the rest of the cafeteria to turn their heads in their direction. Tezuka felt his posture loosen as he instinctively tried to take cover under the dining tables.
Atobe saw his slouching and immediately commented upon it. “Adjust your posture Tezuka. I can’t believe you, of all people, are slouching.”
But no one else is suffering from being associated with you, Tezuka thought viciously as he debated simply skipping lunch in favor of escaping the cafeteria scrutiny. Then, deciding that one meal was payment enough for avoiding possibly life scarring humiliation, Tezuka picked up his lunch tray and headed out of the cafeteria. Predictably, Atobe followed, while complaining about how much of a hypocrite he was.
“I don’t see why ore-sama has to eat this disgusting pig-swill when you’re obviously skipping out on lunch. Actually, I don’t see why any of us have to eat this stuff. I’ll just call up our family catering company and…”
As Atobe reached for his cell phone, Tezuka’s hand shot out instinctively to stop him. Giving Atobe a look that Tezuka hoped had conveyed the full meaning of his opinion on Atobe’s absurd idea, Tezuka dragged Atobe across the last few feet of space and out of the cafeteria.
Leaving behind the chattering and undoubtedly gossiping voices, Tezuka set a brisk pace for the relative privacy in the far end of the baseball field and muttered just loud enough to berate Atobe, “I really wish you would stop trying to solve everything with your family business. Do try to remember we’re not in Japan.”
“Which is exactly why we should team up and beat these foreigners silly. No one will suspect a thing and we’ll easily win the championship,” Atobe returned, clearly still stuck on the issue of the intramural tennis match and Tezuka’s attempts at distraction had not succeeded.
“First, we are the foreigners,” Tezuka ticked off the point with his fingers, “and second, I’m not playing tennis.”
“And I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. What is the meaning of your refusal to join the tennis team? Didn’t you come here to improve your tennis? What the hell happened?”
Life happened, Tezuka wanted to say but refrained. It was pointless to lie, Atobe would know he was lying and Tezuka had never been particularly good at it, but the truth was simply not an option. Instead, Tezuka settled for, “It’s a long story.”
“I have plenty of time,” Atobe said as he gestured to the empty expanse of the baseball field to make his point. Lunch wasn’t due to end for another 45 minutes and Tezuka was not looking forward to continued avoidance of the issue for that length of time.
However, he was thankfully saved from answering when a blond boy had ran up to them and called out, “Yo, Big K, get your ass down here, we need another filler for the basketball team.”
“Big K?” Tezuka repeated, his eyebrows rising at the nickname.
“I was told it is a sign of respect by the Americans,” Atobe replied loftily as he waved back to the boy. “Well, my presence is needed, so I shall leave you to your secrets, but don’t think this is the end of it.”
With that warning, Atobe loped off to answer his calling and Tezuka remembered, just as Atobe left his sight, that Atobe still hadn’t eaten anything.
It wasn’t until three days later that Atobe brought up the issue of tennis with Tezuka. This time they were thankfully away from the cafeteria, but unfortunately in the presence of Emily and Victor. They had complained earlier that Tezuka had been avoiding them for his new/old friend, a complaint that Atobe had overheard and declared to solve by eating lunch together.
Tezuka had a very good reason for wanting to keep Atobe away from his American friends, not the least of which because he wouldn’t be able to explain Atobe to them once Atobe decides to start on one of his narcissistic monologues. In Japan, his acquaintance with Atobe had made the national news and people hardly needed explanation after seeing the national match. Here, however, in America, where most people didn’t even know Japan existed let alone know what happens there, it will be hard to explain the whys and wherefores that was Atobe Keigo.
So, of course, the first thing out of Atobe’s mouth when they’d settled under a tree for their meal was “So why aren’t you playing tennis anymore, Tezuka?”
Emily and Victor had stopped their meal preparations to look at him, Emily silent and Victor asking, “You play tennis?”
Tezuka didn’t have a chance to answer when Atobe replied, “Of course he does. Haven’t you seen him play?”
“Of course not,” Emily, ever sensible, answered back. “If we did, we wouldn’t be asking. Anyway, Kunimitsu, why didn’t you ever tell us?”
Tezuka didn’t want to answer the question, but when he caught the narrowing of Atobe’s eyes at Emily’s usage of his given name, he decided it was probably the quickest way to distract Atobe’s not so gentlemanly intent away from innocent bystanders.
“It was a personal choice,” was the best answer he could offer without fabrication.
It was not, however, enough to satisfy Atobe’s curiosity as he asked, “And what led to that choice?”
“Personal preference,” Tezuka answered as he bit into his sandwich. Then, seeing Atobe was about to pursue further and feeling not a little vindictive, he added, “Also some personal concerns.”
It was probably a low blow, seeing as Atobe had averted his eyes from Tezuka’s glare, but it was not enough to stop him from asking, “So it was you shoulder?”
Tezuka rolled his left shoulder in habit, testing for twinges of pain and finding none. Then, shaking his head, he replied, “No, my shoulder is fine.”
“Whoa, whoa, what’s this about your shoulder?” Emily interjected when Tezuka finished his reassurances.
Pulling his attention away from where Atobe was sulking to find Emily and Victor staring at their exchange with focused intent, Tezuka answered, “It was a minor injury, but I’ve fully recovered.”
“So minor you couldn’t play tennis for over three months,” Atobe muttered under his breath, not intending to be heard but not particularly caring if he was.
Emily and Victor had reacted predictably to the revelation. Victor was in gaping awe, making vague gestures that seemed to mean “you call that minor?” and Emily was simply looking back and forth between Tezuka and Atobe, mind clearly speculating something that Tezuka didn’t want to know but more so didn’t want to be spread through the rumor mills.
So when Victor finally gave voice to his surprise and Emily talked over it with “So you two…” Tezuka interrupted them before wild imaginations blew things out of proportion and answered, “Yes, Victor, I required rehabilitation, but am fully recovered. No, Emily, there is nothing improper between Atobe and I. Please calm your fevered imagination.”
His placations were thwarted when Atobe demanded, “What do you mean we don’t have anything improper between us?”
“So you two are!”
“No, Emily, we’re not.”
“You could’ve said something. All those weeks, wasted!”
“Man, do I even want to know what you guys are talking about?” Victor whined as denial and counter denial continued to escalate. His words effectively cut off the juvenile conversation and Tezuka had to blink at the realization that somewhere along the line, he’d been pulled into Atobe and Emily’s pace. It was almost a good thing that Atobe was unexplainably hostile to Emily and Emily seemed to misunderstand his relationship with Atobe. Otherwise, who knows what frightful things the two minds would conjure up together.
His thoughts were interrupted by Emily ordering Victor to “stop being such a narrow minded idiot” followed by the question directed at him, “So what is your relationship with each other anyway? You guys certainly seem pretty close for someone who aren’t.”
“We’re rivals,” Atobe cut in easily with his reply. When Tezuka didn’t correct him, he continued, “We played against each other during the regional tennis tournament. Naturally, I won.”
“Yeah, well,” Emily seemed to take Atobe’s gloating in stride, which Tezuka supposed one had to if one hoped to have a conversation with Atobe. “Even if you were rivals, that doesn’t explain why you two are, well, y’know. This.”
Tezuka blinked in incomprehension. “What is ‘this’?”
“You know,” Emily explained as she gestured toward where Atobe lay sprawled in the grass next to Tezuka, “this. How close you guys are. I mean, Kunimitsu, not to pick on you or anything, but you’ve got to have the largest definition of personal space of anybody I know. I can’t even get within two feet without you jumping out. Yes, I do notice you trying to escape, you’re not as subtle as you think. And it’s not just me, it’s everyone, you’re always avoiding them. But then Keigo comes along,” she paused as Atobe made a sound of indignation at the mangling of his given name, but then plowed through, “you practically let him sit on you.”
“I do not sit on him!” Atobe protested even as he scooted closer to Tezuka. “Besides, I don’t remember allowing you to call me by my given name. At least Tezuka keeps that much decorum.”
“There’s that too,” Emily pounced on the new thread of conversation. “You let everyone else call you by your first name, but with Keigo, you’re always using last names. It’s all very English boarding school, y’know?”
“We are at a boarding school,” Tezuka calmly reminded the ebullient Emily. Emily did not seem the least impressed with the factoid.
Nor did she seem to think this was going against her case as she rolled her eyes and replied, “Yeah, missing the point, Mr. Brilliance. But whatever. De Nile ain’t just a river in Egypt and all that.”
“I don’t follow,” Tezuka admitted as Emily’s frustration caused her to roll her syllables and made it hard for Tezuka to decipher.
Emily made a frustrated sound then flopped back into the soft grass. Gesturing with a tired hand, she muttered, “I give up. You talk to them Vic.”
“Me?” Victor squeaked then yelped when Emily hit him with a flailing arm. Subdued, Victor said, “Yeah, well, I don’t know what she means – ow, that hurt – but I’m more interested in this tennis business. You were good enough to play in regional tournaments right? Why don’t you try out for the tennis team – ow, what the hell, Emy?”
“Men,” Emily replied but didn’t elaborate further. Seeming to sense the futility of the issue, Emily took matters back into her own hand and continued to prod Tezuka, “So, about that tennis injury.”
“No one said it was a tennis injury.”
“Hello, Kunimitsu, we’re not dumb here. Anyway. Tennis injury.”
Tezuka rolled his eyes. Yes, Emily Patterson was just as bad as Atobe, except she had at her disposal her feminine determination that was, if Tezuka was honest, actually intimidating as opposed to Atobe’s more affable disposition.
“I was careless and was injured,” Tezuka answered. That was his story and he was sticking to it.
“He would rather break his arm than lose,” Atobe joined in when Tezuka refused to elaborate, “because he’s a stubborn and bullheaded fool.”
Emily’s brows rose at Atobe’s explanation but didn’t call Atobe on his choice of words. Instead, she observed, “You certainly know a lot about this injury.”
“Of course, he got it when he was playing against me,” Atobe answered without missing a beat. Tezuka glared at him from the corner of his eye.
Atobe ignored him.
“But you’re okay now, right?” Victor finally spoke up from where he had been nursing his Emily inflicted wounds in silence. “So why not try out for the tennis team? From what Keigo’s saying, it sounds like you were pretty good.”
“He could’ve played professionally,” Atobe cut in with his agreement before Tezuka could refuse. “In fact, Tezuka should be participating in the intramural tennis game for practice, don’t you think?”
The question came out more an order and Victor nodded vigorously in agreement. Tezuka glared at Victor in reproach only to earn a shrug in return; the shrug said, “Hey, if you’re going to abandon me to Emy’s homicidal ways, I’m not bailing you out from this nut job.” It really wasn’t Tezuka’s fault, since when it comes to Emily Patterson’s wrath, it was every man for himself.
Meanwhile, Atobe was talking.
“See, Tezuka? Your friend agrees. We should enter the tournament together and we’ll take them by storm! Now, where do we go to sign up?”
“There’s a sign up booth –”
Tezuka stood up before Victor could finish his sentence.
“I’m not signing up,” he told them. Balancing his unfinished lunch in his bento box, he left. They can ponder and scheme all they want – and knowing Atobe, there most likely will be quite a bit of pondering and scheming – but he will not sign up for the tennis tournament. A promise was a promise after all.
Two days later, Tezuka gaped at the intramural roster in confusion. His name was boldly displayed alongside Atobe’s, announcing them as the first double’s team to participate in tournament rounds.
~*tsuzuku*~
And now for something totally random:
That took me way too long to make and it sucks. I am in awe of caramelldansen meme'ers.
Title: A Resolution Seldom Framed
Author: Me
Fandom: TAT
Status: WIP
Rating: G
Summary: The road to happiness is not without thorns. Or thorny roses.
Notes: Honestly, I've had about 90% of this chapter written but couldn't find a good place to stop. So yeah, finally figured out how to lead into the next chapter, so here it be! The project that no one is paying any attention to anymore.
Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2
The thing about having Atobe as a classmate was that Tezuka saw him much more often than when he only had Atobe as a tennis rival and the traits that had once been amusing were becoming somewhat bothersome. For example, Atobe, for all of his narcissism, was very much a gossip monger and loved to poke his nose into other people’s business. And since Tezuka was easily available, Atobe had turned the focus of his nosey temperament onto Tezuka’s private life; an attention that had proved to be hard to refocus without Atobe’s cooperation.
The announcement of an intramural tennis tournament was not helping matters.
“Tezuka, if we team up, we can easily win the championship,” Atobe was pestering as he pushed the school lunch in circles on his plate.
Tezuka didn’t deign to dignify Atobe’s suggestion with a response. Instead, he merely pointed out that Atobe needed to eat.
“Eat something nutritious,” Atobe corrected as he waved the fork full of pasta salad at Tezuka and flinging some dressing onto his nose. Then, pointing to the bowl in front of him, he added, “This is not nutritious. I don’t think this can be even classified as food.”
Wiping away the dribbled dressing, Tezuka returned, “It’s a special lunch balanced for nutritional value.”
“Then why don’t ore-sama eat vitamin pills instead, they’re certainly more palatable!” Atobe countered in a screech and caused the rest of the cafeteria to turn their heads in their direction. Tezuka felt his posture loosen as he instinctively tried to take cover under the dining tables.
Atobe saw his slouching and immediately commented upon it. “Adjust your posture Tezuka. I can’t believe you, of all people, are slouching.”
But no one else is suffering from being associated with you, Tezuka thought viciously as he debated simply skipping lunch in favor of escaping the cafeteria scrutiny. Then, deciding that one meal was payment enough for avoiding possibly life scarring humiliation, Tezuka picked up his lunch tray and headed out of the cafeteria. Predictably, Atobe followed, while complaining about how much of a hypocrite he was.
“I don’t see why ore-sama has to eat this disgusting pig-swill when you’re obviously skipping out on lunch. Actually, I don’t see why any of us have to eat this stuff. I’ll just call up our family catering company and…”
As Atobe reached for his cell phone, Tezuka’s hand shot out instinctively to stop him. Giving Atobe a look that Tezuka hoped had conveyed the full meaning of his opinion on Atobe’s absurd idea, Tezuka dragged Atobe across the last few feet of space and out of the cafeteria.
Leaving behind the chattering and undoubtedly gossiping voices, Tezuka set a brisk pace for the relative privacy in the far end of the baseball field and muttered just loud enough to berate Atobe, “I really wish you would stop trying to solve everything with your family business. Do try to remember we’re not in Japan.”
“Which is exactly why we should team up and beat these foreigners silly. No one will suspect a thing and we’ll easily win the championship,” Atobe returned, clearly still stuck on the issue of the intramural tennis match and Tezuka’s attempts at distraction had not succeeded.
“First, we are the foreigners,” Tezuka ticked off the point with his fingers, “and second, I’m not playing tennis.”
“And I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. What is the meaning of your refusal to join the tennis team? Didn’t you come here to improve your tennis? What the hell happened?”
Life happened, Tezuka wanted to say but refrained. It was pointless to lie, Atobe would know he was lying and Tezuka had never been particularly good at it, but the truth was simply not an option. Instead, Tezuka settled for, “It’s a long story.”
“I have plenty of time,” Atobe said as he gestured to the empty expanse of the baseball field to make his point. Lunch wasn’t due to end for another 45 minutes and Tezuka was not looking forward to continued avoidance of the issue for that length of time.
However, he was thankfully saved from answering when a blond boy had ran up to them and called out, “Yo, Big K, get your ass down here, we need another filler for the basketball team.”
“Big K?” Tezuka repeated, his eyebrows rising at the nickname.
“I was told it is a sign of respect by the Americans,” Atobe replied loftily as he waved back to the boy. “Well, my presence is needed, so I shall leave you to your secrets, but don’t think this is the end of it.”
With that warning, Atobe loped off to answer his calling and Tezuka remembered, just as Atobe left his sight, that Atobe still hadn’t eaten anything.
It wasn’t until three days later that Atobe brought up the issue of tennis with Tezuka. This time they were thankfully away from the cafeteria, but unfortunately in the presence of Emily and Victor. They had complained earlier that Tezuka had been avoiding them for his new/old friend, a complaint that Atobe had overheard and declared to solve by eating lunch together.
Tezuka had a very good reason for wanting to keep Atobe away from his American friends, not the least of which because he wouldn’t be able to explain Atobe to them once Atobe decides to start on one of his narcissistic monologues. In Japan, his acquaintance with Atobe had made the national news and people hardly needed explanation after seeing the national match. Here, however, in America, where most people didn’t even know Japan existed let alone know what happens there, it will be hard to explain the whys and wherefores that was Atobe Keigo.
So, of course, the first thing out of Atobe’s mouth when they’d settled under a tree for their meal was “So why aren’t you playing tennis anymore, Tezuka?”
Emily and Victor had stopped their meal preparations to look at him, Emily silent and Victor asking, “You play tennis?”
Tezuka didn’t have a chance to answer when Atobe replied, “Of course he does. Haven’t you seen him play?”
“Of course not,” Emily, ever sensible, answered back. “If we did, we wouldn’t be asking. Anyway, Kunimitsu, why didn’t you ever tell us?”
Tezuka didn’t want to answer the question, but when he caught the narrowing of Atobe’s eyes at Emily’s usage of his given name, he decided it was probably the quickest way to distract Atobe’s not so gentlemanly intent away from innocent bystanders.
“It was a personal choice,” was the best answer he could offer without fabrication.
It was not, however, enough to satisfy Atobe’s curiosity as he asked, “And what led to that choice?”
“Personal preference,” Tezuka answered as he bit into his sandwich. Then, seeing Atobe was about to pursue further and feeling not a little vindictive, he added, “Also some personal concerns.”
It was probably a low blow, seeing as Atobe had averted his eyes from Tezuka’s glare, but it was not enough to stop him from asking, “So it was you shoulder?”
Tezuka rolled his left shoulder in habit, testing for twinges of pain and finding none. Then, shaking his head, he replied, “No, my shoulder is fine.”
“Whoa, whoa, what’s this about your shoulder?” Emily interjected when Tezuka finished his reassurances.
Pulling his attention away from where Atobe was sulking to find Emily and Victor staring at their exchange with focused intent, Tezuka answered, “It was a minor injury, but I’ve fully recovered.”
“So minor you couldn’t play tennis for over three months,” Atobe muttered under his breath, not intending to be heard but not particularly caring if he was.
Emily and Victor had reacted predictably to the revelation. Victor was in gaping awe, making vague gestures that seemed to mean “you call that minor?” and Emily was simply looking back and forth between Tezuka and Atobe, mind clearly speculating something that Tezuka didn’t want to know but more so didn’t want to be spread through the rumor mills.
So when Victor finally gave voice to his surprise and Emily talked over it with “So you two…” Tezuka interrupted them before wild imaginations blew things out of proportion and answered, “Yes, Victor, I required rehabilitation, but am fully recovered. No, Emily, there is nothing improper between Atobe and I. Please calm your fevered imagination.”
His placations were thwarted when Atobe demanded, “What do you mean we don’t have anything improper between us?”
“So you two are!”
“No, Emily, we’re not.”
“You could’ve said something. All those weeks, wasted!”
“Man, do I even want to know what you guys are talking about?” Victor whined as denial and counter denial continued to escalate. His words effectively cut off the juvenile conversation and Tezuka had to blink at the realization that somewhere along the line, he’d been pulled into Atobe and Emily’s pace. It was almost a good thing that Atobe was unexplainably hostile to Emily and Emily seemed to misunderstand his relationship with Atobe. Otherwise, who knows what frightful things the two minds would conjure up together.
His thoughts were interrupted by Emily ordering Victor to “stop being such a narrow minded idiot” followed by the question directed at him, “So what is your relationship with each other anyway? You guys certainly seem pretty close for someone who aren’t.”
“We’re rivals,” Atobe cut in easily with his reply. When Tezuka didn’t correct him, he continued, “We played against each other during the regional tennis tournament. Naturally, I won.”
“Yeah, well,” Emily seemed to take Atobe’s gloating in stride, which Tezuka supposed one had to if one hoped to have a conversation with Atobe. “Even if you were rivals, that doesn’t explain why you two are, well, y’know. This.”
Tezuka blinked in incomprehension. “What is ‘this’?”
“You know,” Emily explained as she gestured toward where Atobe lay sprawled in the grass next to Tezuka, “this. How close you guys are. I mean, Kunimitsu, not to pick on you or anything, but you’ve got to have the largest definition of personal space of anybody I know. I can’t even get within two feet without you jumping out. Yes, I do notice you trying to escape, you’re not as subtle as you think. And it’s not just me, it’s everyone, you’re always avoiding them. But then Keigo comes along,” she paused as Atobe made a sound of indignation at the mangling of his given name, but then plowed through, “you practically let him sit on you.”
“I do not sit on him!” Atobe protested even as he scooted closer to Tezuka. “Besides, I don’t remember allowing you to call me by my given name. At least Tezuka keeps that much decorum.”
“There’s that too,” Emily pounced on the new thread of conversation. “You let everyone else call you by your first name, but with Keigo, you’re always using last names. It’s all very English boarding school, y’know?”
“We are at a boarding school,” Tezuka calmly reminded the ebullient Emily. Emily did not seem the least impressed with the factoid.
Nor did she seem to think this was going against her case as she rolled her eyes and replied, “Yeah, missing the point, Mr. Brilliance. But whatever. De Nile ain’t just a river in Egypt and all that.”
“I don’t follow,” Tezuka admitted as Emily’s frustration caused her to roll her syllables and made it hard for Tezuka to decipher.
Emily made a frustrated sound then flopped back into the soft grass. Gesturing with a tired hand, she muttered, “I give up. You talk to them Vic.”
“Me?” Victor squeaked then yelped when Emily hit him with a flailing arm. Subdued, Victor said, “Yeah, well, I don’t know what she means – ow, that hurt – but I’m more interested in this tennis business. You were good enough to play in regional tournaments right? Why don’t you try out for the tennis team – ow, what the hell, Emy?”
“Men,” Emily replied but didn’t elaborate further. Seeming to sense the futility of the issue, Emily took matters back into her own hand and continued to prod Tezuka, “So, about that tennis injury.”
“No one said it was a tennis injury.”
“Hello, Kunimitsu, we’re not dumb here. Anyway. Tennis injury.”
Tezuka rolled his eyes. Yes, Emily Patterson was just as bad as Atobe, except she had at her disposal her feminine determination that was, if Tezuka was honest, actually intimidating as opposed to Atobe’s more affable disposition.
“I was careless and was injured,” Tezuka answered. That was his story and he was sticking to it.
“He would rather break his arm than lose,” Atobe joined in when Tezuka refused to elaborate, “because he’s a stubborn and bullheaded fool.”
Emily’s brows rose at Atobe’s explanation but didn’t call Atobe on his choice of words. Instead, she observed, “You certainly know a lot about this injury.”
“Of course, he got it when he was playing against me,” Atobe answered without missing a beat. Tezuka glared at him from the corner of his eye.
Atobe ignored him.
“But you’re okay now, right?” Victor finally spoke up from where he had been nursing his Emily inflicted wounds in silence. “So why not try out for the tennis team? From what Keigo’s saying, it sounds like you were pretty good.”
“He could’ve played professionally,” Atobe cut in with his agreement before Tezuka could refuse. “In fact, Tezuka should be participating in the intramural tennis game for practice, don’t you think?”
The question came out more an order and Victor nodded vigorously in agreement. Tezuka glared at Victor in reproach only to earn a shrug in return; the shrug said, “Hey, if you’re going to abandon me to Emy’s homicidal ways, I’m not bailing you out from this nut job.” It really wasn’t Tezuka’s fault, since when it comes to Emily Patterson’s wrath, it was every man for himself.
Meanwhile, Atobe was talking.
“See, Tezuka? Your friend agrees. We should enter the tournament together and we’ll take them by storm! Now, where do we go to sign up?”
“There’s a sign up booth –”
Tezuka stood up before Victor could finish his sentence.
“I’m not signing up,” he told them. Balancing his unfinished lunch in his bento box, he left. They can ponder and scheme all they want – and knowing Atobe, there most likely will be quite a bit of pondering and scheming – but he will not sign up for the tennis tournament. A promise was a promise after all.
Two days later, Tezuka gaped at the intramural roster in confusion. His name was boldly displayed alongside Atobe’s, announcing them as the first double’s team to participate in tournament rounds.
And now for something totally random:
That took me way too long to make and it sucks. I am in awe of caramelldansen meme'ers.