InsaneJournal

Engagement - Chapter 03
Title: Engagement

Chapter: 03 – The Plan

Series: WIP

Rating: Mostly G, will adjust accordingly.

Pairings: None! Absolutely none! Not a romance story!

Summary: Tezuka and Atobe hash out the details of their masquerade. Atobe goes femme.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine. Even the story idea isn't mine.

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Chapter 03 – The Plan

After a very terse briefing of the day’s schedule involving their supposed practice match, Tezuka led Seigaku’s tennis team to board the bus to Hyotei. He could only hope that Atobe was ready for the 9 regulars crashing at his mansion.

As it was, Tezuka needn’t have worried. For all of Atobe’s arrogance, there was no denying that he was thoroughly prepared for any situation. In this case, Atobe had personally met his team at the gates, personally impressing upon the Seigaku team that should a whisper of what passed between the walls of the mansion escape to the public, there will be hell to pay. Even the ever apathetic Echizen had looked suitably frightened at the intensity of Atobe’s delivery when he spouted with great vigor, “…and those who do not follow exactly as ore-sama have dictated will have a life time of suffering and pain brought to you courtesy of Atobe Corporation’s Ancient Chinese Water Torture Home Kit. Ore-sama can get away with it, you know.”

Content that the Seigaku children were sufficiently threatened into submission, Atobe led the ennead into the back yard that should have been more properly named an imperial garden. After navigating through a hedge maze, riding a steamboat across an inland lake and taking a carriage ride over rolling hills, they finally came to a complex of personal tennis courts, on which stood the entirety of Hyotei’s tennis club.

“I thought we were supposed to go over the details of Tezuka-buchou’s plan to get out of his engagement,” Momoshiro asked as he stared at the raging tennis club in confusion.

“You are,” Atobe reassured the second year with a smirk. “However, ore-sama had promised a practice match and Atobe Keigo always delivers what he promises.” Then with a snap of his fingers, the crowd of Hyotei tennis club members quickly lined themselves into eight rows of 25 people each.

Leading his Seigaku guests to the courts, he explained, “Ore-sama and Tezuka shall be discussing the matters regarding this masquerade. You,” here he paused to point at the remaining eight, “shall fulfill your practicing duties and play a one set match against each person in your designated row.”

“That’s 25 sets!” Kikumaru gasped in horror.

“And repeat four rotations,” Atobe added and smiled as the Seigaku regulars began to display the first signs of shock.

“100 sets each,” Inui calculated quickly then eyed his opponents warily. “While this may be physically taxing for some, regulars such as Kaidoh and Kawamura should be able to finish.”

“Ah, but there’s a slight catch,” Atobe interrupted Inui’s musings. Then, over his shoulder, he called, “Shishido, explain the rest.”

“For those of you who lose before finishing your sets, your remaining opponents is divided evenly among the other regulars,” Shishido recited in monotone. “After completing the rotations, you will proceed to a practice set with a Hyotei regular.”

“That’s insane,” Momoshiro finally declared. He’d rather take 100 laps around the court. Even the ever-arrogant Echizen had to silently admit that Atobe was stacking the odds in favor of Hyotei.

“Scared?” Atobe drawled. He watched with an almost sadistic glee as the Seigaku regulars reacted predictably with vehement denial, except for Oishi, who was understandably worried about his team’s stamina. “Good, then you should begin.”

With another snap of Atobe’s fingers, the Hyotei tennis club shuffled into the appropriate courts and waited for their Seigaku opponents to enter.

Tezuka watched calmly as his team battled on the courts against a seemingly unending stream of opponents. He raised a brow at Atobe, questioning if he wasn’t over-doing the training just a tad, but Atobe merely reassured him with “we’ll have enough time to go over the details.”

Retiring to the interior of the mansion, Tezuka and Atobe settled themselves in one of the many sitting rooms. Ringing up his butler for two servings of lemonade, Atobe began his business-like discussion.

“We need an alias.”

“Yes, preferably something similar enough to your own name to help with the familiarity.”

“Atobe Keiko.”

Tezuka stared at Atobe’s clearly serious countenance. “I see you’ve thought through this thoroughly.”

“As a matter of fact, I have. You are used to referring to me by my family name. Should you slip up, it would be hard to explain how the Atobe family suddenly had an extra daughter. However, if we weave the story early, then your grandfather would have no reason to suspect foul play when you inevitably will refer to me as ‘Atobe’.”

“You’re faith in my discipline is encouraging,” Tezuka deadpanned.

“It’s only human, Tezuka,” Atobe told him crossly. “God forbid you act it. Now, as for our supposed relationship: how are you going to explain the lack of my presence prior to, I presume, the introduction?”

“The proper time has never come up.”

“Surely you’re not going to let your family think that you were hiding ore-sama!” Atobe was, once again, indignant.

“Hardly, only that I had not the time to properly introduce you,” Tezuka appeased. “However, what concerns me is your pattern of speech, perhaps you ought to consider practicing for your role in this masquerade.”

“Ore-sama no…” Atobe trailed off at Tezuka’s raised brow, “…watashi no ii narawashi ka?” he corrected. (1)

Moving on with the discussion, Tezuka continued with a nod, “I will introduce you to Grandfather. No doubt he will insist on seeing the authenticity of my proclaimed relationship with you—”

“I question the sanity of your family, Tezuka.”

“—upon which I will suggest that he chaperon a date and see for himself.”

“So I shall have one date’s time to convince your grandfather that I am the perfect example of a bride.”

Tezuka nodded solemnly.

“You demand quite the performance from ore-sa…eh, watashi,” Atobe stumbled over the unfamiliar feminine form.

“Giving up?”

“Not until I have the chance to defeat you on the courts,” Atobe reassured his rival, then stood. “With that said, I believe we can conclude the planning stage of this masquerade. I will email you the details of Atobe Keiko’s biography, which I hope you will study in great detail. Now, I wish to see how badly your regulars are slaughtering my club members.”

“You say that as though tennis was some bloody, violent contact sport,” Tezuka snorted.

Atobe mock gasped. “You mean it isn’t?”