cashew (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} cashew) wrote,@ 2005-02-22 22:19:00 |
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Prince Cafe - Chapter 08
Title: The Prince Cafe
Chapter: 08
Fandom: Tenipuri
Pairings: AtobexTezukaxFuji if you squint and maybe stare into the sun a few days.
Disclaimer: Original series belong to Konami-sensei. I take absolutely zero claim for this.
Idea for this story was inspired by the newest set of clear cards with "The Prince Cafe" theme.
Author's Note: This chapter gave me hell. Or maybe it's because my life gave me hell. Music helps a lot when trying to adjusting your mood. Now, if I can only be half this producive when dealing with my real life. Life sucks.
===
Chapter 08 – When There’s a Will
The crowds hushed waited with baited breath for the first serve to the game between the two teams’ captains. Atobe, an exhibitionist at heart, easily took in the surrounding attention and played his part with the gracious flare. Throwing the small yellow ball into the air, he served a fast serve into Tezuka’s service court and rapidly approached the net.
Tezuka, too, was aware of the attention that was focused on their game. However, his concern lay not in performing for the audience but in getting the match finished as quickly as possible before the Seigaku tensai loses what little hold he had on his patience and decided homicide was really much more preferable than standing to the side and watching Atobe strut and pose for the public. Thus, although he was aware that Atobe was trying to recreate the drawn out battle of their Kantou match, Tezuka refused to rise to the bait and instead lobbed the ball behind the rapidly approaching Atobe, forcing the Hyotei buchou to move back to the baseline.
“What’s the matter, Tezuka?” Atobe taunted as he returned the ball back to Tezuka. “You seem to be in a rush to finish the match. Could it be that your arm hasn’t completely healed as you’ve claimed?”
Tezuka merely grunted as he smashed the ball back into Atobe’s side. However, the taunt was loud enough that the surrounding audience also heard the declaration and, although still awed at the prowess of two national level players, began a loud whispering debate over the truth of Atobe’s deductions. Amidst the audience, Fuji’s restlessness grew to epic proportions, eyes shifting from concerned gaze for his buchou to a deathly glare to Atobe, as though wishing to punish the other boy for suggesting something so ludicrous.
Sensing Fuji’s near melt down, Yamato laid a hand on Fuji’s shoulder to prevent the younger boy from doing something rash, such as running onto the courts and hitting Atobe over the head with the side of his racquet. “Don’t worry, Fuji,” he appealed to the tensai, “actions speak louder than words. The falsehood of Atobe’s statement will be revealed with time.”
“Atobe’s famous for his insight. What if he’s right?” Fuji’s worry all but dripped from his words as he continued to stare intently at the match, almost willing the game to stop.
“Let us wait and watch. There’s no need to jump to conclusions before even one game has finished, ne?”
“The first game has only started? Oh good, I made it!” Fuji and Yamato turned simultaneously to find Kawamura bent over gasping for air and sweating profusely. Both were startled at the unexpected arrival, as they had assumed their schizophrenic comrade would have been tied up at the hospital.
“Taka-san,” Fuji began, confusion overriding his ever present worry over the current match, “what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to escort Mizuki-san to the hospital?”
“Hai, hai. I left Mizuki-san in Yuuta-kun’s capable hands. I was just a little afraid of what Eiji might have done to the kitchen when I’m gone, but when I came back the café closed and I heard people talking about a match between Atobe and Tezuka on the street courts. Naturally I ran over here,” explained Kawamura between gasping of precious oxygen.
Fuji took a minute to process Kawamura’s narration and suddenly pinpointed on one small detail, “You left Yuuta with Mizuki-san?”
“Aa.” Kawamura’s attention had already been focused onto the close match that was currently carrying on.
Torn between the need to make sure Yuuta had not yet been molested, violated, or otherwise physically abused while being left alone with Mizuki and his loyalty to his team that dictated he stayed and watched the rest the of the match, no matter how homicidal the situation was making him, Fuji looked to the one person who could offer some advice. Yamato stared back from behind his sunglasses and said, “It seems that this match will be drawn out as always, no matter how hard Tezuka may try to finish it off quickly.”
Catching Yamato’s subtle hinting, Fuji bowed and took his leave, nearly tearing out of the street courts towards the direction of the hospital, not bothering to wait for the bus.
*
On the court, the two players continued their battle, mindful of the limitations set by Yamato. While Atobe had always been sure that his position as Hyotei’s number one seed and the only child of Chairman of Atobe Inc. all but guaranteed that normal rules don’t apply to him, he had no doubt that Yamato was stubborn enough and Tezuka-like enough that he would be forced to drink the revolting liquid if he so much as stepped past the service line by a nanometer. Not that this was becoming a problem, since Tezuka had been doing an admirable job of forcing Atobe to stay at the baseline for every single return, as though Tezuka was deliberately keeping him from getting near the penalty zone.
Although Tezuka had not responded to his previous tauntings, Atobe continued to verbally poke at his opponent. “It’s just like you, Tezuka to be so thoughtful towards your opponents. But this back and forth is getting a little annoying, don’t you think?” Atobe sent a high lob into Tezuka’s side, waiting to see if Tezuka would smash the ball thereby forcing him into the service courts and drinking the corrosive drink, or add an upper cut in the return, ensuring that he would be running towards the other corner to save the ball.
However, Tezuka did neither. Instead, he stood in a familiar pose and by the time Atobe had realized his mistake, Tezuka executed a perfect Zero Shiki Drop Shot. The ball slithered to the edge of the net and gently rolled back towards Tezuka.
“Aa,” said Tezuka in a monotone, face maintaining his usual calm without a trace of excitement despite scoring the first point in the match. It took Atobe a few seconds to realize that Tezuka was responding to his previous question. Feeling played and acknowledging that for this round Tezuka had beaten him in his own game, Atobe proceeded to pout in a fashionable and regal manner.
“Saeki, time out,” Atobe called to the perched referee, not bothering to refer to him by a proper title. Without waiting for a response from the boy, Atobe began walking off to towards Yamato amongst the crowds.
“Hey, wait, you can’t call time out in tennis,” Saeki called out, flustered by Atobe’s complete lack of regard for authority.
Turning, Atobe leveled his best death stare at the boy with bleached hair and said in a loud, crisp voice, “Ore-sama is the rules to tennis and ore-sama has called time out.” As Saeki quivered and relented, Atobe continued on his way and approached Yamato.
“Yamato-san,” Atobe addressed graciously, showing respect to his elder if only because his sense of pride refused to let him display any less proper manners than Tezuka in a public setting, “I strongly request that the previous modifications to the singles matches be removed from this game. Both Tezuka and I have the same style and the hindrance of this new rule is affecting our capabilities to perform at our peak. We do have an audience to think of and no victory with stipulations can be fully satisifying.”
“I understand your concern, Atobe-kun,” Yamato returned just as graciously with his usual temperate voice. “However, I believe that others may object to the removal of the penalty when they’ve already suffered the Inui Drink.”
“Super Deluxe Platinum Remix Aozu Inui Juice, version 4.0,” Inui corrected meekly from the side where he was still supporting most of Kaidoh’s weight.
“But, Yamato-san, surely you wouldn’t deprive the audience of a full match, a match with both players playing at their best and instead substitute it for a match of players playing only at half of their abilities for the sake of the minority’s feelings, would you? It would hardly seem sportsman-like,” Atobe continued with his case, blithely ignoring Inui or the gathering Seigaku Regulars who looked ready to commit organized murder. “And you would know better than anyone that Tezuka would never truly enjoy a game where he played anything but 100% of his abilities and you wouldn’t deny him a chance to use his full power on the tennis court, even if it’s only a practice match, would you?”
The last appeal seemed to finally strike a chord is the retired buchou and Yamato looked toward the court where Tezuka was standing calmly waiting for the match to continue. Finally, coming to a decision, Yamato nodded his assent. “I agree Tezuka wouldn’t enjoy the game unless he could play with everything and to hold either of you back would be unfair to you. However, in the spirit of fairness, I believe that I will have to increase the stakes of losing.”
Atobe stared at Yamato with confusion, unsure if his request was being honored or if Yamato was rejecting his proposal. The other players, including the rivals of Seigaku, were beginning to make a rather tightly packed circle around Yamato, eagerly awaiting the final call with morbid fascination. Idly, Atobe noticed that the Hyotei Doubles 1 pair were looking a little too interested in the decision and mentally vowed to make them run laps until both of them can’t stand up without wobbling once they returned.
“I believe,” continued Yamato after a dramatic pause, a move that Atobe couldn’t help but admire in its effectiveness at garnering everyone’s attention and made a note to practice that with his own team at a later date, “that the only fair resolution is to ensure the person who loses the match will drink a full bottle of Inui Drink – ah, excuse me, Super Deluxe Platinum Remix Aozu Inui Juice, version 4.0.”
“Of course,” Atobe agreed with a slight bow. Although the stakes have been raised, Atobe was certain that he wouldn’t have to suffer the noxious drink. After all, he had beat Tezuka once, he was certain to beat him again, healed arm or not. Returning to his position on the court, he signaled to Saeki with a raised hand and said, “Let’s continue. I believe it’s my serve?”
Saeki blinked dazedly at the order but seeing that Tezuka was waiting for him to announce the score, he quickly blurted, “Love-15. Atobe to serve.”
Smiling with satisfaction, Atobe called to his opponent, “Ne, Tezuka, let’s make sure this is one match that will go down in tennis history as the most fabulous and heart throbbing game in history!” and sent the ball soundly into Tezuka’s service court.
“I would never expect anything less of Atobe Keigo,” Tezuka agreed in a strong voice and returned the ball gracefully back to Atobe.
*
Aware that some drama was undoubtedly unfolding on the street courts as it was wont to whenever Tezuka and Atobe meet on in a match, yet unsure just exactly what was carrying on, Fuji arrived panting at the hospital. After some questioning, a few spine chilling smiles and general harassment, he was finally led to the room where Mizuki was currently occupying. Peering into the room, the scene sorely tempted Fuji to defenestrate Mizuki if not for the fact that his run had winded him beyond the ability of lifting even the flower bouquet by the bedside, let alone a 58kg Mizuki.
Sitting by the bedridden Mizuki’s side was his younger brother, Yuuta, who was, to all outside appearances, holding Mizuki’s hand. Mizuki was telling Yuuta something and Fuji leaned in as unobtrusive as he could, catching the end of the one-sided coversation.
“…Yuuta, you do understand don’t you? You’re my chosen disciple and you must be the one to carry on the proud tradition in St. Rudolph. I trust no one but you to continue in my footsteps.”
At this point, Fuji had heard more than enough. He stepped fully into the room just as Yuuta uttered a scandalized, “Mizuki-san!”
“I hope you are doing well after that unfortunate accident, Mizuki-san,” Fuji stated with false concern, inching his way between the St. Rudolph manager and his baby brother. “I cannot understand what could have caused you to react so violently.” If I did, I would make sure you had ingested more of it to cause death instead of mere food poisoning.
Finally noticing the older brother’s presence, Mizuki wisely dropped Yuuta’s hand and smiled meekly at the elder Fuji. “Ah, it was nothing. I’m sure it was an honest mistake. Must have been a fluke or bad luck.”
“Of course,” Fuji agreed readily, surreptitiously pulling Yuuta away from the edge of the bed while situating himself in the emptied space, hovering threateningly over the now supine Mizuki. “Please take good care of yourself, Mizuki-san. I wouldn’t want my brother’s sempai to suddenly decease from ingesting poisonous foods.” The thinly veiled threat was blunt enough that even Mizuki had caught on and caused him to pale visibly. Yuuta, being slightly more in tune with his brother’s personality than Mizuki, yelled an indignant “Baka Aniki!” and proceeded to try to extricate himself from the iron-like grip. The struggle merely tightened Fuji’s hold and Yuuta winced at the slight pain, sure that his brother was going to give him finger shaped bruises.
Turning, Fuji addressed his brother. “I’m sure Mizuki-san needs his rest. Why don’t we let him rest in peace?” This was said with no sarcastic infliction despite the words. “Besides, I’m sure you’d want to watch the match between Tezuka and Atobe. This time, you’ll see the true Tezuka shine.” Without waiting for an answer from his brother nor showing any further acknowledgement of his hospitalized customer, Fuji turned abruptly and dragged a protesting Yuuta out of the room.
Title: The Prince Cafe
Chapter: 08
Fandom: Tenipuri
Pairings: AtobexTezukaxFuji if you squint and maybe stare into the sun a few days.
Disclaimer: Original series belong to Konami-sensei. I take absolutely zero claim for this.
Idea for this story was inspired by the newest set of clear cards with "The Prince Cafe" theme.
Author's Note: This chapter gave me hell. Or maybe it's because my life gave me hell. Music helps a lot when trying to adjusting your mood. Now, if I can only be half this producive when dealing with my real life. Life sucks.
===
Chapter 08 – When There’s a Will
The crowds hushed waited with baited breath for the first serve to the game between the two teams’ captains. Atobe, an exhibitionist at heart, easily took in the surrounding attention and played his part with the gracious flare. Throwing the small yellow ball into the air, he served a fast serve into Tezuka’s service court and rapidly approached the net.
Tezuka, too, was aware of the attention that was focused on their game. However, his concern lay not in performing for the audience but in getting the match finished as quickly as possible before the Seigaku tensai loses what little hold he had on his patience and decided homicide was really much more preferable than standing to the side and watching Atobe strut and pose for the public. Thus, although he was aware that Atobe was trying to recreate the drawn out battle of their Kantou match, Tezuka refused to rise to the bait and instead lobbed the ball behind the rapidly approaching Atobe, forcing the Hyotei buchou to move back to the baseline.
“What’s the matter, Tezuka?” Atobe taunted as he returned the ball back to Tezuka. “You seem to be in a rush to finish the match. Could it be that your arm hasn’t completely healed as you’ve claimed?”
Tezuka merely grunted as he smashed the ball back into Atobe’s side. However, the taunt was loud enough that the surrounding audience also heard the declaration and, although still awed at the prowess of two national level players, began a loud whispering debate over the truth of Atobe’s deductions. Amidst the audience, Fuji’s restlessness grew to epic proportions, eyes shifting from concerned gaze for his buchou to a deathly glare to Atobe, as though wishing to punish the other boy for suggesting something so ludicrous.
Sensing Fuji’s near melt down, Yamato laid a hand on Fuji’s shoulder to prevent the younger boy from doing something rash, such as running onto the courts and hitting Atobe over the head with the side of his racquet. “Don’t worry, Fuji,” he appealed to the tensai, “actions speak louder than words. The falsehood of Atobe’s statement will be revealed with time.”
“Atobe’s famous for his insight. What if he’s right?” Fuji’s worry all but dripped from his words as he continued to stare intently at the match, almost willing the game to stop.
“Let us wait and watch. There’s no need to jump to conclusions before even one game has finished, ne?”
“The first game has only started? Oh good, I made it!” Fuji and Yamato turned simultaneously to find Kawamura bent over gasping for air and sweating profusely. Both were startled at the unexpected arrival, as they had assumed their schizophrenic comrade would have been tied up at the hospital.
“Taka-san,” Fuji began, confusion overriding his ever present worry over the current match, “what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to escort Mizuki-san to the hospital?”
“Hai, hai. I left Mizuki-san in Yuuta-kun’s capable hands. I was just a little afraid of what Eiji might have done to the kitchen when I’m gone, but when I came back the café closed and I heard people talking about a match between Atobe and Tezuka on the street courts. Naturally I ran over here,” explained Kawamura between gasping of precious oxygen.
Fuji took a minute to process Kawamura’s narration and suddenly pinpointed on one small detail, “You left Yuuta with Mizuki-san?”
“Aa.” Kawamura’s attention had already been focused onto the close match that was currently carrying on.
Torn between the need to make sure Yuuta had not yet been molested, violated, or otherwise physically abused while being left alone with Mizuki and his loyalty to his team that dictated he stayed and watched the rest the of the match, no matter how homicidal the situation was making him, Fuji looked to the one person who could offer some advice. Yamato stared back from behind his sunglasses and said, “It seems that this match will be drawn out as always, no matter how hard Tezuka may try to finish it off quickly.”
Catching Yamato’s subtle hinting, Fuji bowed and took his leave, nearly tearing out of the street courts towards the direction of the hospital, not bothering to wait for the bus.
*
On the court, the two players continued their battle, mindful of the limitations set by Yamato. While Atobe had always been sure that his position as Hyotei’s number one seed and the only child of Chairman of Atobe Inc. all but guaranteed that normal rules don’t apply to him, he had no doubt that Yamato was stubborn enough and Tezuka-like enough that he would be forced to drink the revolting liquid if he so much as stepped past the service line by a nanometer. Not that this was becoming a problem, since Tezuka had been doing an admirable job of forcing Atobe to stay at the baseline for every single return, as though Tezuka was deliberately keeping him from getting near the penalty zone.
Although Tezuka had not responded to his previous tauntings, Atobe continued to verbally poke at his opponent. “It’s just like you, Tezuka to be so thoughtful towards your opponents. But this back and forth is getting a little annoying, don’t you think?” Atobe sent a high lob into Tezuka’s side, waiting to see if Tezuka would smash the ball thereby forcing him into the service courts and drinking the corrosive drink, or add an upper cut in the return, ensuring that he would be running towards the other corner to save the ball.
However, Tezuka did neither. Instead, he stood in a familiar pose and by the time Atobe had realized his mistake, Tezuka executed a perfect Zero Shiki Drop Shot. The ball slithered to the edge of the net and gently rolled back towards Tezuka.
“Aa,” said Tezuka in a monotone, face maintaining his usual calm without a trace of excitement despite scoring the first point in the match. It took Atobe a few seconds to realize that Tezuka was responding to his previous question. Feeling played and acknowledging that for this round Tezuka had beaten him in his own game, Atobe proceeded to pout in a fashionable and regal manner.
“Saeki, time out,” Atobe called to the perched referee, not bothering to refer to him by a proper title. Without waiting for a response from the boy, Atobe began walking off to towards Yamato amongst the crowds.
“Hey, wait, you can’t call time out in tennis,” Saeki called out, flustered by Atobe’s complete lack of regard for authority.
Turning, Atobe leveled his best death stare at the boy with bleached hair and said in a loud, crisp voice, “Ore-sama is the rules to tennis and ore-sama has called time out.” As Saeki quivered and relented, Atobe continued on his way and approached Yamato.
“Yamato-san,” Atobe addressed graciously, showing respect to his elder if only because his sense of pride refused to let him display any less proper manners than Tezuka in a public setting, “I strongly request that the previous modifications to the singles matches be removed from this game. Both Tezuka and I have the same style and the hindrance of this new rule is affecting our capabilities to perform at our peak. We do have an audience to think of and no victory with stipulations can be fully satisifying.”
“I understand your concern, Atobe-kun,” Yamato returned just as graciously with his usual temperate voice. “However, I believe that others may object to the removal of the penalty when they’ve already suffered the Inui Drink.”
“Super Deluxe Platinum Remix Aozu Inui Juice, version 4.0,” Inui corrected meekly from the side where he was still supporting most of Kaidoh’s weight.
“But, Yamato-san, surely you wouldn’t deprive the audience of a full match, a match with both players playing at their best and instead substitute it for a match of players playing only at half of their abilities for the sake of the minority’s feelings, would you? It would hardly seem sportsman-like,” Atobe continued with his case, blithely ignoring Inui or the gathering Seigaku Regulars who looked ready to commit organized murder. “And you would know better than anyone that Tezuka would never truly enjoy a game where he played anything but 100% of his abilities and you wouldn’t deny him a chance to use his full power on the tennis court, even if it’s only a practice match, would you?”
The last appeal seemed to finally strike a chord is the retired buchou and Yamato looked toward the court where Tezuka was standing calmly waiting for the match to continue. Finally, coming to a decision, Yamato nodded his assent. “I agree Tezuka wouldn’t enjoy the game unless he could play with everything and to hold either of you back would be unfair to you. However, in the spirit of fairness, I believe that I will have to increase the stakes of losing.”
Atobe stared at Yamato with confusion, unsure if his request was being honored or if Yamato was rejecting his proposal. The other players, including the rivals of Seigaku, were beginning to make a rather tightly packed circle around Yamato, eagerly awaiting the final call with morbid fascination. Idly, Atobe noticed that the Hyotei Doubles 1 pair were looking a little too interested in the decision and mentally vowed to make them run laps until both of them can’t stand up without wobbling once they returned.
“I believe,” continued Yamato after a dramatic pause, a move that Atobe couldn’t help but admire in its effectiveness at garnering everyone’s attention and made a note to practice that with his own team at a later date, “that the only fair resolution is to ensure the person who loses the match will drink a full bottle of Inui Drink – ah, excuse me, Super Deluxe Platinum Remix Aozu Inui Juice, version 4.0.”
“Of course,” Atobe agreed with a slight bow. Although the stakes have been raised, Atobe was certain that he wouldn’t have to suffer the noxious drink. After all, he had beat Tezuka once, he was certain to beat him again, healed arm or not. Returning to his position on the court, he signaled to Saeki with a raised hand and said, “Let’s continue. I believe it’s my serve?”
Saeki blinked dazedly at the order but seeing that Tezuka was waiting for him to announce the score, he quickly blurted, “Love-15. Atobe to serve.”
Smiling with satisfaction, Atobe called to his opponent, “Ne, Tezuka, let’s make sure this is one match that will go down in tennis history as the most fabulous and heart throbbing game in history!” and sent the ball soundly into Tezuka’s service court.
“I would never expect anything less of Atobe Keigo,” Tezuka agreed in a strong voice and returned the ball gracefully back to Atobe.
*
Aware that some drama was undoubtedly unfolding on the street courts as it was wont to whenever Tezuka and Atobe meet on in a match, yet unsure just exactly what was carrying on, Fuji arrived panting at the hospital. After some questioning, a few spine chilling smiles and general harassment, he was finally led to the room where Mizuki was currently occupying. Peering into the room, the scene sorely tempted Fuji to defenestrate Mizuki if not for the fact that his run had winded him beyond the ability of lifting even the flower bouquet by the bedside, let alone a 58kg Mizuki.
Sitting by the bedridden Mizuki’s side was his younger brother, Yuuta, who was, to all outside appearances, holding Mizuki’s hand. Mizuki was telling Yuuta something and Fuji leaned in as unobtrusive as he could, catching the end of the one-sided coversation.
“…Yuuta, you do understand don’t you? You’re my chosen disciple and you must be the one to carry on the proud tradition in St. Rudolph. I trust no one but you to continue in my footsteps.”
At this point, Fuji had heard more than enough. He stepped fully into the room just as Yuuta uttered a scandalized, “Mizuki-san!”
“I hope you are doing well after that unfortunate accident, Mizuki-san,” Fuji stated with false concern, inching his way between the St. Rudolph manager and his baby brother. “I cannot understand what could have caused you to react so violently.” If I did, I would make sure you had ingested more of it to cause death instead of mere food poisoning.
Finally noticing the older brother’s presence, Mizuki wisely dropped Yuuta’s hand and smiled meekly at the elder Fuji. “Ah, it was nothing. I’m sure it was an honest mistake. Must have been a fluke or bad luck.”
“Of course,” Fuji agreed readily, surreptitiously pulling Yuuta away from the edge of the bed while situating himself in the emptied space, hovering threateningly over the now supine Mizuki. “Please take good care of yourself, Mizuki-san. I wouldn’t want my brother’s sempai to suddenly decease from ingesting poisonous foods.” The thinly veiled threat was blunt enough that even Mizuki had caught on and caused him to pale visibly. Yuuta, being slightly more in tune with his brother’s personality than Mizuki, yelled an indignant “Baka Aniki!” and proceeded to try to extricate himself from the iron-like grip. The struggle merely tightened Fuji’s hold and Yuuta winced at the slight pain, sure that his brother was going to give him finger shaped bruises.
Turning, Fuji addressed his brother. “I’m sure Mizuki-san needs his rest. Why don’t we let him rest in peace?” This was said with no sarcastic infliction despite the words. “Besides, I’m sure you’d want to watch the match between Tezuka and Atobe. This time, you’ll see the true Tezuka shine.” Without waiting for an answer from his brother nor showing any further acknowledgement of his hospitalized customer, Fuji turned abruptly and dragged a protesting Yuuta out of the room.