[Fic] El Alma del Tango: 1st & 2nd Dance
Title: El Alma del Tango
Author: Kiarene
Pairings: Sanada / Atobe
Rating: R
Summary: No other dance connects two people more closely than the tango.
Published: 9th August 2005 - 6th December 2005
Disclaimer: I would love to own Atobe-sama… and gang… but I don’t.
A/N: El alma del tango - the soul of the tango. From Sanda’s point of view.
El Alma del Tango
1st Dance
I didn’t think much about him at first. In fact, I daresay I didn’t think much of him.
Of course I’d heard of Atobe, one of the rising stars on the school tennis circuit. But he was in Hyotei and I was in Rikkaidai, and I was preoccupied with rising within Rikkadai’s highly competitive tennis club. After I had established myself firmly as a regular, I started noticing the top players from rival schools: Tezuka Kunimitsu, Sengoku Kiyosumi, Oshitari Yuushi, Fuji Sysuuke; the list was long.
And of course, Atobe Keigo. But he was just a name then.
The first time our paths crossed, we were in our second year and it was during the Junior Senbatsu camp.
~
I stood in the middle of the empty room that was to be mine for the next two weeks. Well, mine and my roommate. Who wasn’t here yet. Hn, I might as well settle in first and bag the better bed.
I examined the two beds carefully and noted that the one on the right appears to have a slightly firmer mattress. Also, a glance at the window told me that the morning sun would end up on the left bed. Smirking slightly, I hoisted my bag and was just about to turn to the right bed when the door opened.
Atobe stepped in, one hand on his hip as he surveyed the room critically. His other hand clutched an expensive gray leather bag, trimmed in silver with his name stitched on the corner.
I almost smirked, knowing that the small, plain room wasn’t anywhere near the luxury the rich brat was used to. Oh, I knew that much about my roommate at least. I heard that he was filthy rich. As he sniffed at the room disdainfully, I knew he was dreadfully spoilt as well. Great, just what I needed.
I knew that the boy in front of me was the vice-captain of Hyotei. I also heard that he was the best tennis player in Hyotei, better even than the captain, and that the only reason he was not a captain was because he was still a second year. That was surprising - I would have been ready to write him off as one who had *some* talent in tennis but definitely no prodigy, but I also knew about Hyotei’s tennis club. It was huge, some two hundred members, and the competition within was extremely keen. Wealth or connections had no advantage within such a meritocratic club.
Two hundred members. We didn’t even have half that number in Rikkadai’s tennis club. I wondered how Atobe would fare when he became captain.
Physically, Atobe wasn’t too impressive. He was of average height and slender, almost skinny. A pretty boy, delicate in appearance. I sternly reminded myself of Yukimura, whose fragile appearance belied his sheer genius in tennis.
Well, I would finally get to see if Atobe Keigo was fully deserving of his reputation.
“Ohayo, Sanada,” Atobe drawled. His voice was husky and sure.
“Atobe,” I nodded.
Most people would have been fazed by my curtness, but Atobe merely raised a brow and turned and sat down daintily on the bed *I* had been eyeing, dropping his bag onto the floor.
“I was going to take that bed,” I said, annoyed that it sounded childish.
“But you hadn’t. And besides, I always prefer to sleep on the right.” Atobe smirked, knowing that I knew it did. “Is this all right?”
When I had - somewhat - reined in my initial response to scream, I sat down on the left bed. My jaw remained gritted because otherwise I might just say something too nasty to retract later. The mattress felt saggy and I stared at the boy on the other bed in irritation. It was going to be a long, long camp, I could tell. Why couldn’t I have been placed with Yukimura or even Kirihara instead?
I was cheered up by the thought that there was no way the rich brat was going to survive such a camp though.
~
I was wrong though. Atobe surprised me then. Annoyed me, no, he positively infuriated me. But I also wondered how someone so conceited and arrogant could be so talented - I thought it wasn’t fair, until I saw him train. He strutted and boasted, but his boasts weren’t empty. On the courts, he blew his opponents away. I was always impressed, until he opened his mouth again, sprouting something about being awed by his brilliance and prowess.
~
At the first meal, Atobe complained about the poor quality of food. What a brat, I thought, poking at my own mush. But then, instead of continually whining about it, he got up and went to speak to the coaches. Subsequent meals were much better and he became quite popular with the campers. I hate rich people with influence like that.
He complained about the poor quality soaps provided by the camp, about how drying they were, telling me that he has was glad he brought his own much higher quality toiletries, and just when I was about to turn to him and tell him to shut up, he turns to me and offers to share.
I don’t understand him at all.
He’s fussy and complains a lot, yet he doesn’t whine. If he’s not happy, he *does* something about it. He’s utterly spoilt but he’s also generous. I’ve seen the way he treats his teammates, not just with material goods but with his attention as well. The Hyotei players adored him, haughty airs and all.
The camp ended and we were both selected for the team. We trained together, with the rest of the team, but oddly enough, we had never played a match against each other. After the Invitational Match was over, he just gave me his usual smug smile and drawled, “Ja ne, Sanada.”
Staring at his back as he sauntered away, tennis bag slung over his shoulder and surrounded by the Hyotei players, I thought it was a pity we never got the chance to play against each other.
“You will get a chance to play against him in the future,” Yukimura’s gentle voice startled me out of my thoughts.
“How did…”
“You have that challenging look in your eyes,” Yukimura teased. “I know you.”
“Aa.” Hoisting my own bag onto my shoulder, I turned to leave with my own schoolmates.
~
But we never did get to play against each other. Oddly enough, despite the facts that we were never matched up on the courts, we ran into each other once in a while outside. I might see him across the street one day or we might exchange nods while browsing a bookstore. It turned out we have similar tastes in many things.
The exchange was almost always the same:
“Konnichiwa, Sanada.”
“Atobe.”
Then he would give me that bemused look and I would turn away. Slowly though, we started to talk more. At least he did.
“Never took you for a sweets person,” he would say, pink tongue flicking out to shape his own cone of chocolate-pecan. “But then, I’m not surprised to see you chose vanilla.”
“This brand of grip tape is good. I personally prefer Feux though; if you like, I can send you one the next time I order,” he would tell me calmly, as if we are all rich enough to order custom equipment the way he does. “What color do you like? I think black or navy, am I right? You’re such a practical person, Sanada.”
Irritatingly enough, he was right about my color choices. But, so what if I was boring? A person who wears light purple shirts - with little ruffles - shouldn’t judge me on my fashion sense!
“Latin music?” He would give me one of his accessing stares, then turn to riffle through the rack of CDs. “Yes, I’m not surprised. You are taciturn but you exhibit a lot of passion on the courts. Here, have you heard this group? No? Well, I think you would like this.” And again, he was right.
Not that I ever told him, of course.
Not that he ever needed to be told, of course. Atobe Keigo redefined confidence.
I had heard about his famed ‘Insight’, and apparently that talent appeared to extend off the courts as well. I don’t say much, and with him, I don’t need to. He could read me with one glance. Slowly, I grew less irritated with his company - if I could put up with Kirihara, I could put up with Atobe. They grow on you, and then one day, you realize that the traits that irritate you at first only amuse you now, and really they’re not so bad; at least they’re not boring.
A year came and went; it was the second Junior Senbatsu Camp. He was rooming with me again because our schools again sent an odd number of participants. This time, I met him in the corridor outside our room. Fishing out my key, I opened the door.
Atobe walked in first, even though it was *me* who opened the door. “I want-“
“-the bed on the right, I know,” I broke in. I’d learned that there exist forces of nature one cannot, cannot fight against. One was Yukimura, the other Atobe. Kirihara, on the other hand, was actually controllable. You’ve just got to feed him enough chocolate.
I dropped my bag on the other bed.
Atobe looked amused. “I was going to say I wanted a shower before going down for orientation activities… But it’s good you know ore-sama’s preferences.”
It was going to be a long camp.
~
Somehow, the conversation turned to the party for Tezuka. Personally, I couldn’t see what the fuss was about. So he got injured; he got sent to *Germany* to recover. Players get injured all the time. How many of us can get sent to a clinic overseas? Then he came back and all right, I can understand if Seigaku was happy. But…
The guys were even talking about singing a song for Tezuka, even Atobe.
“Sanada. You won’t do it, I suppose?” Atobe turned, looking at me with that slight smile of his. I hadn’t been participating in the conversation; I was surprised Atobe asked me. No, not asked. He assumed I won’t do it-
“That’s right. Sanada-san doesn’t like things like karaoke at all,” Kirihara piped up.
“I’ll do it,” I blurted out. For a split moment, I found myself as flabbergasted as Kirihara beside me. I don’t even like Tezuka! Then I realized that for once, I wanted to prove Atobe’s assumptions wrong.
“I can at least sing a song,” I said stiffly. It had nothing to do with Tezuka, I thought fiercely. Atobe looked at me, his smile widening.
That night, there were more dishes at dinner, and the dining hall was decorated with cheap paper chains and banners. I looked around in disgust. What was so special about Tezuka? He’s the same age as us, just another middle school student. He was a good player, but Atobe beat him.
Yes, I watched the match. Some say Atobe would not have won if Tezuka wasn’t injured, but to me, it showed that Tezuka wasn’t able to play at Atobe’s level without overstraining himself. And from what I heard, it wasn’t his shoulder that was the old injury, it was his elbow.
Everyone was fawning over the new ‘coach’, even those initially skeptical, just because he showed his tennis skills were better. But simply beating everyone doesn’t make one a coach; I felt the sudden urge to swing my racket and challenge Tezuka.
Even Atobe was pulled in by Tezuka. That irked me the most. Since Tezuka arrived, Atobe’s attention was focused on the other boy.
“Tezuka, sorry for making you wait. Be awed by my beautiful voice,” Atobe’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. Blinking, I focused on Atobe. Naturally he led the group, standing apart like a lead singer, and when he started, we took our cue from him.
I don’t know why Atobe said he’s not good at performing; he has a nice, husky voice, and more than that, he has a charismatic stage presence. I kept my eyes on him as we sang. Beside me, Oshitari shifted uncomfortably and kept his eyes down. Kirihara merely looked bemused. At least they weren’t part of those worshipping at the altar of Tezuka.
The rest of the evening after that was a chore - the Seigaku regulars were especially slavish in their admiration of Tezuka, eyes all starry. As soon as Tezuka’s speech was over, I got up and left, not caring if I seemed rude. I needed to work off some tension.
Atobe found me in the gym later that night pressing weights. Somehow, I was not surprised. “Hey, Sanada,” he drawled. “I was thinking that this camp has been somewhat slow.”
“I’m in the middle of training. I won’t be your complaining partner,” I told him rudely. “Please keep quiet.”
“Oh?” As usual, Atobe was never offended by me. “Listen.”
“However, that changed today.” He looked contemplative.
Realizing there was no use ignoring Atobe, I sighed mentally. “Hmm? Because of Tezuka?”
“Yes, because he is the only one I call my true rival.”
That statement irked me, and I sat up off the bench. “He might not think that way of you,” I told him curtly.
Atobe chuckled. “You say that, but…” He trailed off, looking amused. “The truth is, you feel the same way I do, don’t you?”
I stared at him. No I don’t, I thought. But of course Atobe drew his own conclusion.
“Let’s settle this once and for all, shall we?” He smiled back at me. “Play a match against me.”
Is that what it would take your eyes off Tezuka, I wondered. I knew Atobe was hard-pressed to find players that truly challenged him; perhaps that was why he was fascinated with Tezuka.
And, I realized with anticipation, I had never played against Atobe before.
“Very well.”
~
“I was the one who was destroyed Tezuka’s shoulder,” Atobe said suddenly. We were on our way to the courts.
“I know, I was watching.”
Atobe went on, talking about how he initially only wanted to defeat Tezuka but in the end, ended up impressed by his dedication for his team. I was getting more and more irritated; he was playing against *me* now. Why was he still talking about Tezuka?
“I’m sorry. I don’t know about your dreams of defeating Tezuka and all, but the strongest person stands at the top. That’s all it is.” I announced brusquely.
As usual, Atobe was nonplussed and just smiled.
I had wondered often what it would be like to play against Atobe. I found out that day. He was, to put it mildly, very good. A player to be feared.
We started easy but the pace rapidly climbed. Rarely have I found myself so hard-pressed. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see that the other boys have gathered. I could hear their murmurs, like the mindless humming of bees in the hot sun. But my attention was wholly on Atobe.
And his attention was wholly on me.
It was exhilarating. Atobe was a graceful player. He was not particularly famed for his strength like Kabaji, or speed like Kamio; nor was he called a tennis prodigy like Fuji or Oshitari, but somehow he put it all together into a devastating package. No wonder he was Hyotei’s top player.
He took the lead at first but I caught up. I could hear the mutterings around me about how Atobe couldn’t win now that I had sealed his finishing technique. Not so, I knew. Even without his Rondo Towards Destruction, he was still a formidable player. Though he looked slender, his shots packed a hefty punch; his smashes could easily knock a racket from an opponent’s hand. Moreover, he managed to keep up with my speed; not everyone could do that.
And just when I thought I was leading, Atobe revealed another trick up his sleeve. One that blew everyone away. A serve that was not only powerful and fast - I could dish out some high-speed serves myself - but one that just didn’t seem to bounce.
Amazing.
I looked at the ball, which had rolled to a stop beside the fence. Then I turned back to Atobe, this time with renewed respect. The others were chattering excitedly. Atobe preened.
Before I could stir myself out of my stupor, Coach Sakaki stood up and stopped the game. And told us we made the cut for the Junior Senbatsu Team. We were shocked, pleasantly so because we didn’t planned this, but it was good all the same. I was disappointed that we didn’t finish the match, and yet, the anticipation of a future match was also pleasurable.
“We’ll leave the conclusion of the match for a later time,” I promised him. I found myself looking forward to it.
His eyes glinted. “Heh. It seems the number of people I must defeat before I defeat Tezuka has just increased by one.”
“It is good to have many rivals, but don’t forget there is only one winner.” Who cared about Tezuka? I looked intently at him, and he stared back at me. Then he smiled.
Somehow, I was very pleased that his attention was now on me. You will notice *only* me, I thought. You can look at others, but you will only focus on me.
We shook hands, and I noticed how smooth and pale his hand looked, entwined with mine.
~
We next ran into each other at a tango concert a week later. I wasn’t too surprised; I knew he liked Latin music. We passed each other in the lobby, still dressed in school uniforms as we came down directly after school. We didn’t say anything, but our eyes met. Caught, held for a second as the crowd and noise faded around us. My skin tingled and he gave me that slight smile again.
Then we walked past each other and the moment was lost.
His seat was just diagonally behind mine, and throughout the performance, I was extremely aware of that. We didn’t say anything and I didn’t turn back to look at him. Not once. Yet the fine hairs on the back of my neck tingled and I could *just* pick out the faint spicy cologne he liked to wear. Most boys our age were not so vain, but this was Atobe. He even wore that cologne to a training camp and I could detect a faint trace in my bag and clothes after the camp.
The music played on and I thought about our unfinished match, the steady beat provided by our rackets as we rallied back and forth, the sharp look in his eyes and the way his lips curved up in genuine pleasure, and when the melody rose up in a crescendo, the way his torso arched as he leapt high and reached for a smash.
When the concert ended and I stood up, my head turned, eyes automatically seeking his. His eyes caught mine. But we didn’t say anything and we walked away.
~
A/N: After a while, Sanada started to use his teammates’ first names. It’s to be expected; they have been friends for so many years. I’ve watched until episodes 178, so anything after that, I’m just using my imagination and having fun. This chapter opens while Sanada and Atobe are still in their last year in Middle School.
El Alma del Tango
2nd Dance
Something very fundamental changed between us during the Junior Senbatsu Match that year. We were always rivals, but for the first time, we were partners.
When we were told at the very last minute that we would be playing Doubles 2, my back stiffened. Not only were we, who normally play singles, now relegated to doubles, Doubles 2 was traditionally considered the weaker pair. I half-turned to Atobe, expecting him to kick up a fuss. However, he only looked at Coach Sakaki, mouth tight, and gave a nod of understanding.
I was flabbergasted. How could Atobe, of all people, not feel offended? Insulted?
“Looks like Sakaki wanted us to set the tone for this match,” Atobe commented as we started warm-up, his tone careful. I exhaled angrily.
His brows dipped in a frown. “Understand this. I don’t like this anymore than you do because I *am* a Singles 1 player. But I also understand that-“
And it hit me, shamefully.
“-this is the coach’s decision,” I finished for him. “That our team’s victory comes first.” He gave me a nod. We should always strive to do our best, no matter what we are asked to do.
“Because of this, we *will* win.” I said matter-of-factly.
“Of course.”
This was a team event, and while the traditional line-up was to send the weaker players first, that fails if the other team sends their strongest first. After all, the first team to secure three victories wins and it was sometimes useless to hold your ace players for last. Fudomine proved that against Hyotei during the district tournament. Ironically, many ace players in fact do not get a chance to play in tournaments because they were slated for Singles 1.
We took the lead initially. We knew the opponents were holding back; even so, a 4-0 lead was ridiculous. When they showed their power though, showed that they had been *toying* with us all the way as they evened the score, we were pissed. Especially Atobe. But he’s not the kind to yell or do anything crass; he held it in admirably. Until I looked at his eyes and saw the hard tension there as the score climbed against us.
That was when he brought out the ace he had been saving, that astonishing serve. Everybody was stunned, including me.
The Tannhäuser serve.
This time, I got a better look at it. It was a brilliant technique. Fast, powerful, and with the way it skimmed the ground like Fuji’s Tsubame Gaeshi, there was absolutely no way the other side could have returned it.
I turned to stare at him in awe. Atobe was frozen in his position, muscles straining and a look of absolute concentration on his face. He looked beautiful.
Something clicked during that game. I didn’t do anything as Atobe worked hard to hold our service game. I could tell that the technique wasn’t perfect yet and Atobe lost control of it a couple of times, but he held on. By the time he won that game, he was panting hard.
My respect for him climbed another notch. He pushed hard. I could do no less.
Even though he was noticeably more tired after that, he tried to hold up his end of the game. I looked at him, shoulders heaving slightly as he fought for breath, sweat running down his face, knowing he hadn’t recovered fully from his service game. He was at his limit and I knew I had to cover for him, whether he liked it or not.
When I returned a ball he should have caught, he turned to me furiously. “That was my ball!”
“Right now, winning the game comes first. I’ll listen to your complaints after we win.”
I looked at him, subtly reminding him of what we spoke about just before the game. The tango music we enjoyed at the concert ran through my head, and for a moment, it brought me back to that day. We were alone, the crowd fading in the background and the only thing I noticed was Atobe.
I was curt, even rude. But then, Atobe capitulated graciously. His anger melted away as he chuckled. He may be a diva, loved basking in the limelight, but he never lost sight of the goal, never placed his own glory over his team’s. He took a moment to *think* about what I said instead of blowing up, and he realized the importance of our teamwork. Something else clicked at that point.
*We* clicked.
From that moment on, the match swung back in our favor. As singles, I’m sure we could have won. But the other pair had experience as a doubles pair, while Atobe and I frequently clashed for the ball. Not literally, but there were tense occasions where we growled at each other for possession of the ball, blamed the other for losing a point. Thinking that if *I* had gotten it…
But no more.
We started to work together. I took a chance and ran up to the net for an advance guard formation. Atobe caught on quickly, Fumbling at first, but we rapidly aligned in sync. We had no previously arranged sign-plays or formation, but a quick nod or glance, and we knew when to run for the ball, when to give.
We may not have played doubles before but we have led our teams, we knew how doubles work. Our experience showed.
“When we line up like this, it reminds me of that day,” Atobe commented during a lull in the game as we caught our breath.
No need to explain - I knew which day. The music swelled. “Heh. You’re right.”
He smiled.
Lee and I exchanged a series of rapid volley; one of my shots broke through. Cassidy caught it but it was a clumsy lob. Immediately, I knew Atobe would not miss such a chance. Even as I was turning, he was leaping into the air, graceful and poised for his famous finishing move.
It won’t work, I thought frantically. Cassidy would be able to-
His eyes slid to mine for a split second but he continued in his motion. I scrambled behind him, ready to catch the counter volley from Cassidy. But watching Atobe, I noticed that his jump wasn’t as high as it should be, not if he wished to smash…
And I knew what to do. He didn’t mean for it to work.
All eyes were on him and when I leapt up behind him to take the ball, he lowered his racket. It was a brilliant feint. This is what double partners do, I thought. Not only do they cover each other, they also set up the shots for each other. Atobe, with the way he could read a game, was a good game-maker. And, it occurred to me, that somehow, while watching Atobe all these years, I have gotten used to his play; I could read him. Like a partner.
“Oy Sanada.” Atobe smirked after that, the crowds cheering enthusiastically. “That music has been running through my head for a while now.
“Aa. Me too.”
I knew how to tango; I’m sure Atobe does as well even if I had never asked him. It’s just the sort of thing I expect he knew. And tango we did, carried by the music, as we took alternate shots in a four-beat rally. Once we caught the rhythm, we *flowed*.
At match point, when he leapt up again at a chance ball, I ran behind him, ready to cover for him again. Noting that he was serious about the smash this time - his racket arcing overhead with his usual power - I prepared for Cassidy’s counter volley. And in a stroke of inspiration, I aimed my smash at Cassidy’s grip - I had watched Atobe often enough to know how to do it.
Atobe didn’t flinch as the ball sped past him, and catching the beat perfectly as Cassidy’s racket clattered to the ground, he leapt up again for the finishing smash.
It was a moment of perfect harmony.
~
The Americans played a good game and we were pushed hard. Of course we didn’t like to admit it. When the coaches and teammates congratulated us, he merely smirked, composed as usual. I was my disinterested self. Our teammates commented we were cold, but we knew it was our usual style.
When I thought about it later, I realized that no, it was not our usual style. Something changed. He grated on my nerves initially, while he probably thought me a bore at first. As I grew to understand him, I started to accept his quirks. I started to respect him as a rival.
But we never had to work together. Even if we were on the same team, what of it? Team members jockey among themselves for the coveted positions. And Atobe and I were always Singles players.
But that day, I started to respect him as my partner. When my Rikkadai team members approached me later to talk about the match, I found myself strangely reluctant to elaborate. It became something else we shared, something private.
~
“Atobe,” I called.
End of the year, and school has just finished. The third years graduated and we were all now excited about going onto high school. The trees were bare, like the once bustling corridors and classrooms of the schools, waiting for the new year.
Atobe turned around, his bored expression melting into a pleased smile when he saw me. The weather was cold and he was wearing a - my eyes widened - a leopard print trench coat. I found myself smiling in amusement at the sight; it should have looked pretentious on anybody else but Atobe. Only Atobe.
“Sanada.” He stopped and allowed me to catch up. “What are you doing here?”
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
Atobe huffed lightly in laughter. “Are you bored already, with no tennis, no school?”
The wind blew, a frigid breath that heralded the entry of winter, and Atobe shivered, drawing his coat tightly around himself. “Are you cold?” I asked in concern. He looked so slender it was no wonder he felt the cold easily.
“It’s nothing. If we start walking, I’ll warm up.”
“Aa. Headed for anywhere in particular?”
“Not really.” Atobe turned down a side street and I followed, curious. His tone turned pensive. “Graduating from middle school got me… nostalgic, I guess. Just had the urge to walk past Hyotei one more time.”
“You’ll be back in Hyotei next year, won’t you?”
“Yes, I’ll be in Hyotei High School, but it’s not the same campus.” We slowed down as we neared Hyotei. “You’ll go onto Rikkadai High School I presume?”
“Of course.” I watched him as he came to a stop, hands in pockets as he stared towards the empty compound. The school gate was closed. “Any regrets?”
“No, of course not…” He trailed off. “Well….”
He was silent for a long time. “I should have been a better captain.”
I startled at his whisper. It was the first time I had ever heard him insecure. “What?”
“Hyotei won last year… but this year, under my leadership, we were utterly humiliated at the District Tournaments and Kantou Finals. I know what the others say - we only made it to the Nationals because Hyotei hosted it.”
“That’s not true,” I retorted immediately. “You were not playing in the District matches at all; I daresay that was your coach’s fault for underestimating your opponents and sending in the reserve team.”
“But-“
“Listen.” I stepped in front of him and grabbed him by the lapels of his expensive coat. “Your team’s performance in the Kantou Finals was good; unfortunately you had bad luck to go up against Seigaku in the first round. But your team played well and that is what’s important. In fact, people still talk about the match between you and Tezuka and I daresay people will still be talking about it years from now. It was… definitive.”
His eyes widened in shock at my words.
“Your team’s performance in the Nationals was brilliant.”
His mouth twisted in part pride, in part bitterness. “Yes they were good, weren’t they? But we *still* lost to Seigaku in the finals…”
It was a very close fight, I remembered clearly. It could have easily gone either way.
“Everyone played beyond their limits in the Nationals; everyone surpassed themselves.” I held his eyes, willing him to see what I myself took a long time to realize after the Nationals. “We were *all* winners.”
Atobe swallowed, clearly wanting to believe me. “But compared to Tezuka, I-“
“It’s not about Tezuka!” I yelled. Shocked, he fell silent.
“You know what I think?” I rarely lost my cool, but when I do, it was as if a floodgate opened. “I think you were a superlative captain. You know why?”
I leaned in, lowering my voice.
“It’s easy to be a good leader when you’re winning, but when you’re losing, when morale is flagging and when your team is just one step from giving up - that’s when a real captain shows his mettle. Tachibana did it when he pulled Fudomine back from last year’s disgrace. And you did it when you rallied your team *and* your school, not once but twice. And each time, Hyotei came back much stronger. *That* is leadership.”
Feeling a bit dramatic but not caring, I swept an arm out behind me to indicate his school. “When your team lost, did they ever doubt you? Did the school withdraw their support? Did your coach replace you?”
“No,” Atobe breathed. His hands came up to wrap around mine, which were still fisted in his coat.
“Do you still doubt your leadership?”
“…No.”
We stared at each other and slowly, I finally released my hands.
His lips curved up. “Thank you.”
~
I got a text message from him on New Year’s Day.
[See you on the courts this year.]
I smiled, knowing what he meant. Looking up at the fireworks, I wondered if Atobe was watching them too.
~
Surprisingly, or not, our paths started to cross more often. Schoolwork increased in high school and it was all too easy to lose contact with kouhai back in middle school, much less someone from another school, but we started to take the initiative to actively contact each other.
I knew Atobe liked to browse bookshops on Saturday mornings. He often found me Sunday evenings in the music shop near my house. I introduced him to the coffee that was sold in the café just next to that shop. He made it a point to email me about Latin music concerts. I would email him with details about classical music, another favorite of his. Initially, I didn’t like classical music much but it grew on me.
We talked about finishing that match.
~
Atobe leaned back in his chair with a contemplative look. “We never got to finish our match, did we?”
I shook my head, knowing where this was going.
He nibbled daintily at the biscuit that accompanied his coffee. “Then, are you free this Sunday? We can meet at the street courts.”
“I’m free. But the street courts are always packed on weekends,” I pointed out.
He thought for a moment. “How about the community lot beside the rail tracks? The courts there are quite run-down and not many people like to go there.”
“All right.” I remembered that court; it was where I first played with Echizen. “Echizen… the first time I played against Echizen wasn’t during the Kantou Finals but it was on that court. The Finals were postponed….”
I found myself telling Atobe about the match. About how I beat him but he bounced back scarcely a week later.
“Just like Echizen,” Atobe gave a rueful laugh. “His talent is scary and I have no doubt he has not yet reached his full potential.”
“I heard he’s doing well in America,” I murmured, a hint of envy in my voice. “He will probably debut as a pro as soon as he comes of age.”
“I have no doubt about that as well.” Atobe picked up his cup of coffee, swirling it thoughtfully before he took a sip. “And you?”
“Me?”
He looked at me over the rim of his cup. “Do you have plans for playing professionally as well?”
People have asked me that and I usually ignore them, leaving them to draw their own conclusions. But the quietness in Atobe’s question tugged at me. “I… I admit I have dreams of turning pro, but plans… no. It’s easy to say I want to play professionally, but there are a lot of other factors to consider.”
Atobe blinked, gave me a slow smile. “You’re very honest.”
I looked at him shrewdly. “I think you understand what I mean very well.”
Atobe set his empty cup down with a clink, his gaze turning wistful. “I would love to even have the chance to play professionally. But I cannot.”
“Aa.” While Atobe was probably one of the few in our age group most likely to succeed as a pro, after Echizen, he also was the only heir to the Atobe fortune. It was not easy.
No. It would not be easy. But he shouldn’t give up before he even tried.
“However, the life of a professional athlete is short and your father will not retire for many more years.” I tried to sound hopeful, but I also knew how familial ties could clip one’s wings.
“Maybe.” Atobe pursed his lips unhappily. “Do you think anyone else would turn pro?”
“From our age group you mean?”
“Yes.”
I thought for a moment. “Akaya… Seigoku… Who else do you think would?”
“Tezuka,” Atobe said softly.
I felt myself frown in irritation. Looking up, I noticed the overcast skies with a grunt. “Rainy season’s coming.”
Atobe gave me an odd look, but let my odd behavior go. Even I didn’t know what came over me.
“You going anywhere after that?” Atobe asked amicably. After the rainy season in June dried up, it was a favorite time for Japanese to travel in July.
“Maybe somewhere cool to escape the summer, like Hokkaido. Tokyo is like a sauna in summer.” I didn’t sound too hopeful; I knew just about everybody else would have the same idea.
“Hokkaido’s popular in summer,” Atobe pointed out. “It will be very crowded.”
“If I can’t go, I can’t go.” I shrugged. I pushed my plate across to him; I’m not that fond of biscuits and I know he has a sweet tooth.
Atobe picked up my biscuit with a slight smile. “I’ve a cottage up in Hokkaido.”
I raised a brow. I’ve heard about, and seen, Atobe’s cottages. Tennis *teams* from rival schools have been invited to play with Hyotei at his cottages, and everyone was always fully pampered.
“I was supposed to go with some members from my team, but Gakuto and Jiroh can’t make it. Why don’t you invite a friend as well?”
“You’re assuming I would go,” I said flatly.
“Wouldn’t you?” He grinned impishly at me. Damn his confidence. I knew I would - it was an irresistible offer and I had no other plans for Obon week.
“Invite Kirihara,” Atobe told me. “And bring your rackets.”
Somehow I’m not too surprised. Akaya would have been my first choice, considering the other people going on this trip. Atobe liked Akaya but was always indifferent towards Seiichi. And Akaya got along well with the Hyotei team; I’ve no doubt he would have fitted in well there.
“Anything else?” I asked dryly, feeling distinctly steam-rollered. A common feeling around Atobe.
Atobe stood up, draping his jacket over his shoulders with a stylish swirl. “Four o’clock on Sunday. Don’t be late.”
~
Author: Kiarene
Pairings: Sanada / Atobe
Rating: R
Summary: No other dance connects two people more closely than the tango.
Published: 9th August 2005 - 6th December 2005
Disclaimer: I would love to own Atobe-sama… and gang… but I don’t.
A/N: El alma del tango - the soul of the tango. From Sanda’s point of view.
El Alma del Tango
1st Dance
I didn’t think much about him at first. In fact, I daresay I didn’t think much of him.
Of course I’d heard of Atobe, one of the rising stars on the school tennis circuit. But he was in Hyotei and I was in Rikkaidai, and I was preoccupied with rising within Rikkadai’s highly competitive tennis club. After I had established myself firmly as a regular, I started noticing the top players from rival schools: Tezuka Kunimitsu, Sengoku Kiyosumi, Oshitari Yuushi, Fuji Sysuuke; the list was long.
And of course, Atobe Keigo. But he was just a name then.
The first time our paths crossed, we were in our second year and it was during the Junior Senbatsu camp.
~
I stood in the middle of the empty room that was to be mine for the next two weeks. Well, mine and my roommate. Who wasn’t here yet. Hn, I might as well settle in first and bag the better bed.
I examined the two beds carefully and noted that the one on the right appears to have a slightly firmer mattress. Also, a glance at the window told me that the morning sun would end up on the left bed. Smirking slightly, I hoisted my bag and was just about to turn to the right bed when the door opened.
Atobe stepped in, one hand on his hip as he surveyed the room critically. His other hand clutched an expensive gray leather bag, trimmed in silver with his name stitched on the corner.
I almost smirked, knowing that the small, plain room wasn’t anywhere near the luxury the rich brat was used to. Oh, I knew that much about my roommate at least. I heard that he was filthy rich. As he sniffed at the room disdainfully, I knew he was dreadfully spoilt as well. Great, just what I needed.
I knew that the boy in front of me was the vice-captain of Hyotei. I also heard that he was the best tennis player in Hyotei, better even than the captain, and that the only reason he was not a captain was because he was still a second year. That was surprising - I would have been ready to write him off as one who had *some* talent in tennis but definitely no prodigy, but I also knew about Hyotei’s tennis club. It was huge, some two hundred members, and the competition within was extremely keen. Wealth or connections had no advantage within such a meritocratic club.
Two hundred members. We didn’t even have half that number in Rikkadai’s tennis club. I wondered how Atobe would fare when he became captain.
Physically, Atobe wasn’t too impressive. He was of average height and slender, almost skinny. A pretty boy, delicate in appearance. I sternly reminded myself of Yukimura, whose fragile appearance belied his sheer genius in tennis.
Well, I would finally get to see if Atobe Keigo was fully deserving of his reputation.
“Ohayo, Sanada,” Atobe drawled. His voice was husky and sure.
“Atobe,” I nodded.
Most people would have been fazed by my curtness, but Atobe merely raised a brow and turned and sat down daintily on the bed *I* had been eyeing, dropping his bag onto the floor.
“I was going to take that bed,” I said, annoyed that it sounded childish.
“But you hadn’t. And besides, I always prefer to sleep on the right.” Atobe smirked, knowing that I knew it did. “Is this all right?”
When I had - somewhat - reined in my initial response to scream, I sat down on the left bed. My jaw remained gritted because otherwise I might just say something too nasty to retract later. The mattress felt saggy and I stared at the boy on the other bed in irritation. It was going to be a long, long camp, I could tell. Why couldn’t I have been placed with Yukimura or even Kirihara instead?
I was cheered up by the thought that there was no way the rich brat was going to survive such a camp though.
~
I was wrong though. Atobe surprised me then. Annoyed me, no, he positively infuriated me. But I also wondered how someone so conceited and arrogant could be so talented - I thought it wasn’t fair, until I saw him train. He strutted and boasted, but his boasts weren’t empty. On the courts, he blew his opponents away. I was always impressed, until he opened his mouth again, sprouting something about being awed by his brilliance and prowess.
~
At the first meal, Atobe complained about the poor quality of food. What a brat, I thought, poking at my own mush. But then, instead of continually whining about it, he got up and went to speak to the coaches. Subsequent meals were much better and he became quite popular with the campers. I hate rich people with influence like that.
He complained about the poor quality soaps provided by the camp, about how drying they were, telling me that he has was glad he brought his own much higher quality toiletries, and just when I was about to turn to him and tell him to shut up, he turns to me and offers to share.
I don’t understand him at all.
He’s fussy and complains a lot, yet he doesn’t whine. If he’s not happy, he *does* something about it. He’s utterly spoilt but he’s also generous. I’ve seen the way he treats his teammates, not just with material goods but with his attention as well. The Hyotei players adored him, haughty airs and all.
The camp ended and we were both selected for the team. We trained together, with the rest of the team, but oddly enough, we had never played a match against each other. After the Invitational Match was over, he just gave me his usual smug smile and drawled, “Ja ne, Sanada.”
Staring at his back as he sauntered away, tennis bag slung over his shoulder and surrounded by the Hyotei players, I thought it was a pity we never got the chance to play against each other.
“You will get a chance to play against him in the future,” Yukimura’s gentle voice startled me out of my thoughts.
“How did…”
“You have that challenging look in your eyes,” Yukimura teased. “I know you.”
“Aa.” Hoisting my own bag onto my shoulder, I turned to leave with my own schoolmates.
~
But we never did get to play against each other. Oddly enough, despite the facts that we were never matched up on the courts, we ran into each other once in a while outside. I might see him across the street one day or we might exchange nods while browsing a bookstore. It turned out we have similar tastes in many things.
The exchange was almost always the same:
“Konnichiwa, Sanada.”
“Atobe.”
Then he would give me that bemused look and I would turn away. Slowly though, we started to talk more. At least he did.
“Never took you for a sweets person,” he would say, pink tongue flicking out to shape his own cone of chocolate-pecan. “But then, I’m not surprised to see you chose vanilla.”
“This brand of grip tape is good. I personally prefer Feux though; if you like, I can send you one the next time I order,” he would tell me calmly, as if we are all rich enough to order custom equipment the way he does. “What color do you like? I think black or navy, am I right? You’re such a practical person, Sanada.”
Irritatingly enough, he was right about my color choices. But, so what if I was boring? A person who wears light purple shirts - with little ruffles - shouldn’t judge me on my fashion sense!
“Latin music?” He would give me one of his accessing stares, then turn to riffle through the rack of CDs. “Yes, I’m not surprised. You are taciturn but you exhibit a lot of passion on the courts. Here, have you heard this group? No? Well, I think you would like this.” And again, he was right.
Not that I ever told him, of course.
Not that he ever needed to be told, of course. Atobe Keigo redefined confidence.
I had heard about his famed ‘Insight’, and apparently that talent appeared to extend off the courts as well. I don’t say much, and with him, I don’t need to. He could read me with one glance. Slowly, I grew less irritated with his company - if I could put up with Kirihara, I could put up with Atobe. They grow on you, and then one day, you realize that the traits that irritate you at first only amuse you now, and really they’re not so bad; at least they’re not boring.
A year came and went; it was the second Junior Senbatsu Camp. He was rooming with me again because our schools again sent an odd number of participants. This time, I met him in the corridor outside our room. Fishing out my key, I opened the door.
Atobe walked in first, even though it was *me* who opened the door. “I want-“
“-the bed on the right, I know,” I broke in. I’d learned that there exist forces of nature one cannot, cannot fight against. One was Yukimura, the other Atobe. Kirihara, on the other hand, was actually controllable. You’ve just got to feed him enough chocolate.
I dropped my bag on the other bed.
Atobe looked amused. “I was going to say I wanted a shower before going down for orientation activities… But it’s good you know ore-sama’s preferences.”
It was going to be a long camp.
~
Somehow, the conversation turned to the party for Tezuka. Personally, I couldn’t see what the fuss was about. So he got injured; he got sent to *Germany* to recover. Players get injured all the time. How many of us can get sent to a clinic overseas? Then he came back and all right, I can understand if Seigaku was happy. But…
The guys were even talking about singing a song for Tezuka, even Atobe.
“Sanada. You won’t do it, I suppose?” Atobe turned, looking at me with that slight smile of his. I hadn’t been participating in the conversation; I was surprised Atobe asked me. No, not asked. He assumed I won’t do it-
“That’s right. Sanada-san doesn’t like things like karaoke at all,” Kirihara piped up.
“I’ll do it,” I blurted out. For a split moment, I found myself as flabbergasted as Kirihara beside me. I don’t even like Tezuka! Then I realized that for once, I wanted to prove Atobe’s assumptions wrong.
“I can at least sing a song,” I said stiffly. It had nothing to do with Tezuka, I thought fiercely. Atobe looked at me, his smile widening.
That night, there were more dishes at dinner, and the dining hall was decorated with cheap paper chains and banners. I looked around in disgust. What was so special about Tezuka? He’s the same age as us, just another middle school student. He was a good player, but Atobe beat him.
Yes, I watched the match. Some say Atobe would not have won if Tezuka wasn’t injured, but to me, it showed that Tezuka wasn’t able to play at Atobe’s level without overstraining himself. And from what I heard, it wasn’t his shoulder that was the old injury, it was his elbow.
Everyone was fawning over the new ‘coach’, even those initially skeptical, just because he showed his tennis skills were better. But simply beating everyone doesn’t make one a coach; I felt the sudden urge to swing my racket and challenge Tezuka.
Even Atobe was pulled in by Tezuka. That irked me the most. Since Tezuka arrived, Atobe’s attention was focused on the other boy.
“Tezuka, sorry for making you wait. Be awed by my beautiful voice,” Atobe’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. Blinking, I focused on Atobe. Naturally he led the group, standing apart like a lead singer, and when he started, we took our cue from him.
I don’t know why Atobe said he’s not good at performing; he has a nice, husky voice, and more than that, he has a charismatic stage presence. I kept my eyes on him as we sang. Beside me, Oshitari shifted uncomfortably and kept his eyes down. Kirihara merely looked bemused. At least they weren’t part of those worshipping at the altar of Tezuka.
The rest of the evening after that was a chore - the Seigaku regulars were especially slavish in their admiration of Tezuka, eyes all starry. As soon as Tezuka’s speech was over, I got up and left, not caring if I seemed rude. I needed to work off some tension.
Atobe found me in the gym later that night pressing weights. Somehow, I was not surprised. “Hey, Sanada,” he drawled. “I was thinking that this camp has been somewhat slow.”
“I’m in the middle of training. I won’t be your complaining partner,” I told him rudely. “Please keep quiet.”
“Oh?” As usual, Atobe was never offended by me. “Listen.”
“However, that changed today.” He looked contemplative.
Realizing there was no use ignoring Atobe, I sighed mentally. “Hmm? Because of Tezuka?”
“Yes, because he is the only one I call my true rival.”
That statement irked me, and I sat up off the bench. “He might not think that way of you,” I told him curtly.
Atobe chuckled. “You say that, but…” He trailed off, looking amused. “The truth is, you feel the same way I do, don’t you?”
I stared at him. No I don’t, I thought. But of course Atobe drew his own conclusion.
“Let’s settle this once and for all, shall we?” He smiled back at me. “Play a match against me.”
Is that what it would take your eyes off Tezuka, I wondered. I knew Atobe was hard-pressed to find players that truly challenged him; perhaps that was why he was fascinated with Tezuka.
And, I realized with anticipation, I had never played against Atobe before.
“Very well.”
~
“I was the one who was destroyed Tezuka’s shoulder,” Atobe said suddenly. We were on our way to the courts.
“I know, I was watching.”
Atobe went on, talking about how he initially only wanted to defeat Tezuka but in the end, ended up impressed by his dedication for his team. I was getting more and more irritated; he was playing against *me* now. Why was he still talking about Tezuka?
“I’m sorry. I don’t know about your dreams of defeating Tezuka and all, but the strongest person stands at the top. That’s all it is.” I announced brusquely.
As usual, Atobe was nonplussed and just smiled.
I had wondered often what it would be like to play against Atobe. I found out that day. He was, to put it mildly, very good. A player to be feared.
We started easy but the pace rapidly climbed. Rarely have I found myself so hard-pressed. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see that the other boys have gathered. I could hear their murmurs, like the mindless humming of bees in the hot sun. But my attention was wholly on Atobe.
And his attention was wholly on me.
It was exhilarating. Atobe was a graceful player. He was not particularly famed for his strength like Kabaji, or speed like Kamio; nor was he called a tennis prodigy like Fuji or Oshitari, but somehow he put it all together into a devastating package. No wonder he was Hyotei’s top player.
He took the lead at first but I caught up. I could hear the mutterings around me about how Atobe couldn’t win now that I had sealed his finishing technique. Not so, I knew. Even without his Rondo Towards Destruction, he was still a formidable player. Though he looked slender, his shots packed a hefty punch; his smashes could easily knock a racket from an opponent’s hand. Moreover, he managed to keep up with my speed; not everyone could do that.
And just when I thought I was leading, Atobe revealed another trick up his sleeve. One that blew everyone away. A serve that was not only powerful and fast - I could dish out some high-speed serves myself - but one that just didn’t seem to bounce.
Amazing.
I looked at the ball, which had rolled to a stop beside the fence. Then I turned back to Atobe, this time with renewed respect. The others were chattering excitedly. Atobe preened.
Before I could stir myself out of my stupor, Coach Sakaki stood up and stopped the game. And told us we made the cut for the Junior Senbatsu Team. We were shocked, pleasantly so because we didn’t planned this, but it was good all the same. I was disappointed that we didn’t finish the match, and yet, the anticipation of a future match was also pleasurable.
“We’ll leave the conclusion of the match for a later time,” I promised him. I found myself looking forward to it.
His eyes glinted. “Heh. It seems the number of people I must defeat before I defeat Tezuka has just increased by one.”
“It is good to have many rivals, but don’t forget there is only one winner.” Who cared about Tezuka? I looked intently at him, and he stared back at me. Then he smiled.
Somehow, I was very pleased that his attention was now on me. You will notice *only* me, I thought. You can look at others, but you will only focus on me.
We shook hands, and I noticed how smooth and pale his hand looked, entwined with mine.
~
We next ran into each other at a tango concert a week later. I wasn’t too surprised; I knew he liked Latin music. We passed each other in the lobby, still dressed in school uniforms as we came down directly after school. We didn’t say anything, but our eyes met. Caught, held for a second as the crowd and noise faded around us. My skin tingled and he gave me that slight smile again.
Then we walked past each other and the moment was lost.
His seat was just diagonally behind mine, and throughout the performance, I was extremely aware of that. We didn’t say anything and I didn’t turn back to look at him. Not once. Yet the fine hairs on the back of my neck tingled and I could *just* pick out the faint spicy cologne he liked to wear. Most boys our age were not so vain, but this was Atobe. He even wore that cologne to a training camp and I could detect a faint trace in my bag and clothes after the camp.
The music played on and I thought about our unfinished match, the steady beat provided by our rackets as we rallied back and forth, the sharp look in his eyes and the way his lips curved up in genuine pleasure, and when the melody rose up in a crescendo, the way his torso arched as he leapt high and reached for a smash.
When the concert ended and I stood up, my head turned, eyes automatically seeking his. His eyes caught mine. But we didn’t say anything and we walked away.
~
A/N: After a while, Sanada started to use his teammates’ first names. It’s to be expected; they have been friends for so many years. I’ve watched until episodes 178, so anything after that, I’m just using my imagination and having fun. This chapter opens while Sanada and Atobe are still in their last year in Middle School.
El Alma del Tango
2nd Dance
Something very fundamental changed between us during the Junior Senbatsu Match that year. We were always rivals, but for the first time, we were partners.
When we were told at the very last minute that we would be playing Doubles 2, my back stiffened. Not only were we, who normally play singles, now relegated to doubles, Doubles 2 was traditionally considered the weaker pair. I half-turned to Atobe, expecting him to kick up a fuss. However, he only looked at Coach Sakaki, mouth tight, and gave a nod of understanding.
I was flabbergasted. How could Atobe, of all people, not feel offended? Insulted?
“Looks like Sakaki wanted us to set the tone for this match,” Atobe commented as we started warm-up, his tone careful. I exhaled angrily.
His brows dipped in a frown. “Understand this. I don’t like this anymore than you do because I *am* a Singles 1 player. But I also understand that-“
And it hit me, shamefully.
“-this is the coach’s decision,” I finished for him. “That our team’s victory comes first.” He gave me a nod. We should always strive to do our best, no matter what we are asked to do.
“Because of this, we *will* win.” I said matter-of-factly.
“Of course.”
This was a team event, and while the traditional line-up was to send the weaker players first, that fails if the other team sends their strongest first. After all, the first team to secure three victories wins and it was sometimes useless to hold your ace players for last. Fudomine proved that against Hyotei during the district tournament. Ironically, many ace players in fact do not get a chance to play in tournaments because they were slated for Singles 1.
We took the lead initially. We knew the opponents were holding back; even so, a 4-0 lead was ridiculous. When they showed their power though, showed that they had been *toying* with us all the way as they evened the score, we were pissed. Especially Atobe. But he’s not the kind to yell or do anything crass; he held it in admirably. Until I looked at his eyes and saw the hard tension there as the score climbed against us.
That was when he brought out the ace he had been saving, that astonishing serve. Everybody was stunned, including me.
The Tannhäuser serve.
This time, I got a better look at it. It was a brilliant technique. Fast, powerful, and with the way it skimmed the ground like Fuji’s Tsubame Gaeshi, there was absolutely no way the other side could have returned it.
I turned to stare at him in awe. Atobe was frozen in his position, muscles straining and a look of absolute concentration on his face. He looked beautiful.
Something clicked during that game. I didn’t do anything as Atobe worked hard to hold our service game. I could tell that the technique wasn’t perfect yet and Atobe lost control of it a couple of times, but he held on. By the time he won that game, he was panting hard.
My respect for him climbed another notch. He pushed hard. I could do no less.
Even though he was noticeably more tired after that, he tried to hold up his end of the game. I looked at him, shoulders heaving slightly as he fought for breath, sweat running down his face, knowing he hadn’t recovered fully from his service game. He was at his limit and I knew I had to cover for him, whether he liked it or not.
When I returned a ball he should have caught, he turned to me furiously. “That was my ball!”
“Right now, winning the game comes first. I’ll listen to your complaints after we win.”
I looked at him, subtly reminding him of what we spoke about just before the game. The tango music we enjoyed at the concert ran through my head, and for a moment, it brought me back to that day. We were alone, the crowd fading in the background and the only thing I noticed was Atobe.
I was curt, even rude. But then, Atobe capitulated graciously. His anger melted away as he chuckled. He may be a diva, loved basking in the limelight, but he never lost sight of the goal, never placed his own glory over his team’s. He took a moment to *think* about what I said instead of blowing up, and he realized the importance of our teamwork. Something else clicked at that point.
*We* clicked.
From that moment on, the match swung back in our favor. As singles, I’m sure we could have won. But the other pair had experience as a doubles pair, while Atobe and I frequently clashed for the ball. Not literally, but there were tense occasions where we growled at each other for possession of the ball, blamed the other for losing a point. Thinking that if *I* had gotten it…
But no more.
We started to work together. I took a chance and ran up to the net for an advance guard formation. Atobe caught on quickly, Fumbling at first, but we rapidly aligned in sync. We had no previously arranged sign-plays or formation, but a quick nod or glance, and we knew when to run for the ball, when to give.
We may not have played doubles before but we have led our teams, we knew how doubles work. Our experience showed.
“When we line up like this, it reminds me of that day,” Atobe commented during a lull in the game as we caught our breath.
No need to explain - I knew which day. The music swelled. “Heh. You’re right.”
He smiled.
Lee and I exchanged a series of rapid volley; one of my shots broke through. Cassidy caught it but it was a clumsy lob. Immediately, I knew Atobe would not miss such a chance. Even as I was turning, he was leaping into the air, graceful and poised for his famous finishing move.
It won’t work, I thought frantically. Cassidy would be able to-
His eyes slid to mine for a split second but he continued in his motion. I scrambled behind him, ready to catch the counter volley from Cassidy. But watching Atobe, I noticed that his jump wasn’t as high as it should be, not if he wished to smash…
And I knew what to do. He didn’t mean for it to work.
All eyes were on him and when I leapt up behind him to take the ball, he lowered his racket. It was a brilliant feint. This is what double partners do, I thought. Not only do they cover each other, they also set up the shots for each other. Atobe, with the way he could read a game, was a good game-maker. And, it occurred to me, that somehow, while watching Atobe all these years, I have gotten used to his play; I could read him. Like a partner.
“Oy Sanada.” Atobe smirked after that, the crowds cheering enthusiastically. “That music has been running through my head for a while now.
“Aa. Me too.”
I knew how to tango; I’m sure Atobe does as well even if I had never asked him. It’s just the sort of thing I expect he knew. And tango we did, carried by the music, as we took alternate shots in a four-beat rally. Once we caught the rhythm, we *flowed*.
At match point, when he leapt up again at a chance ball, I ran behind him, ready to cover for him again. Noting that he was serious about the smash this time - his racket arcing overhead with his usual power - I prepared for Cassidy’s counter volley. And in a stroke of inspiration, I aimed my smash at Cassidy’s grip - I had watched Atobe often enough to know how to do it.
Atobe didn’t flinch as the ball sped past him, and catching the beat perfectly as Cassidy’s racket clattered to the ground, he leapt up again for the finishing smash.
It was a moment of perfect harmony.
~
The Americans played a good game and we were pushed hard. Of course we didn’t like to admit it. When the coaches and teammates congratulated us, he merely smirked, composed as usual. I was my disinterested self. Our teammates commented we were cold, but we knew it was our usual style.
When I thought about it later, I realized that no, it was not our usual style. Something changed. He grated on my nerves initially, while he probably thought me a bore at first. As I grew to understand him, I started to accept his quirks. I started to respect him as a rival.
But we never had to work together. Even if we were on the same team, what of it? Team members jockey among themselves for the coveted positions. And Atobe and I were always Singles players.
But that day, I started to respect him as my partner. When my Rikkadai team members approached me later to talk about the match, I found myself strangely reluctant to elaborate. It became something else we shared, something private.
~
“Atobe,” I called.
End of the year, and school has just finished. The third years graduated and we were all now excited about going onto high school. The trees were bare, like the once bustling corridors and classrooms of the schools, waiting for the new year.
Atobe turned around, his bored expression melting into a pleased smile when he saw me. The weather was cold and he was wearing a - my eyes widened - a leopard print trench coat. I found myself smiling in amusement at the sight; it should have looked pretentious on anybody else but Atobe. Only Atobe.
“Sanada.” He stopped and allowed me to catch up. “What are you doing here?”
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
Atobe huffed lightly in laughter. “Are you bored already, with no tennis, no school?”
The wind blew, a frigid breath that heralded the entry of winter, and Atobe shivered, drawing his coat tightly around himself. “Are you cold?” I asked in concern. He looked so slender it was no wonder he felt the cold easily.
“It’s nothing. If we start walking, I’ll warm up.”
“Aa. Headed for anywhere in particular?”
“Not really.” Atobe turned down a side street and I followed, curious. His tone turned pensive. “Graduating from middle school got me… nostalgic, I guess. Just had the urge to walk past Hyotei one more time.”
“You’ll be back in Hyotei next year, won’t you?”
“Yes, I’ll be in Hyotei High School, but it’s not the same campus.” We slowed down as we neared Hyotei. “You’ll go onto Rikkadai High School I presume?”
“Of course.” I watched him as he came to a stop, hands in pockets as he stared towards the empty compound. The school gate was closed. “Any regrets?”
“No, of course not…” He trailed off. “Well….”
He was silent for a long time. “I should have been a better captain.”
I startled at his whisper. It was the first time I had ever heard him insecure. “What?”
“Hyotei won last year… but this year, under my leadership, we were utterly humiliated at the District Tournaments and Kantou Finals. I know what the others say - we only made it to the Nationals because Hyotei hosted it.”
“That’s not true,” I retorted immediately. “You were not playing in the District matches at all; I daresay that was your coach’s fault for underestimating your opponents and sending in the reserve team.”
“But-“
“Listen.” I stepped in front of him and grabbed him by the lapels of his expensive coat. “Your team’s performance in the Kantou Finals was good; unfortunately you had bad luck to go up against Seigaku in the first round. But your team played well and that is what’s important. In fact, people still talk about the match between you and Tezuka and I daresay people will still be talking about it years from now. It was… definitive.”
His eyes widened in shock at my words.
“Your team’s performance in the Nationals was brilliant.”
His mouth twisted in part pride, in part bitterness. “Yes they were good, weren’t they? But we *still* lost to Seigaku in the finals…”
It was a very close fight, I remembered clearly. It could have easily gone either way.
“Everyone played beyond their limits in the Nationals; everyone surpassed themselves.” I held his eyes, willing him to see what I myself took a long time to realize after the Nationals. “We were *all* winners.”
Atobe swallowed, clearly wanting to believe me. “But compared to Tezuka, I-“
“It’s not about Tezuka!” I yelled. Shocked, he fell silent.
“You know what I think?” I rarely lost my cool, but when I do, it was as if a floodgate opened. “I think you were a superlative captain. You know why?”
I leaned in, lowering my voice.
“It’s easy to be a good leader when you’re winning, but when you’re losing, when morale is flagging and when your team is just one step from giving up - that’s when a real captain shows his mettle. Tachibana did it when he pulled Fudomine back from last year’s disgrace. And you did it when you rallied your team *and* your school, not once but twice. And each time, Hyotei came back much stronger. *That* is leadership.”
Feeling a bit dramatic but not caring, I swept an arm out behind me to indicate his school. “When your team lost, did they ever doubt you? Did the school withdraw their support? Did your coach replace you?”
“No,” Atobe breathed. His hands came up to wrap around mine, which were still fisted in his coat.
“Do you still doubt your leadership?”
“…No.”
We stared at each other and slowly, I finally released my hands.
His lips curved up. “Thank you.”
~
I got a text message from him on New Year’s Day.
[See you on the courts this year.]
I smiled, knowing what he meant. Looking up at the fireworks, I wondered if Atobe was watching them too.
~
Surprisingly, or not, our paths started to cross more often. Schoolwork increased in high school and it was all too easy to lose contact with kouhai back in middle school, much less someone from another school, but we started to take the initiative to actively contact each other.
I knew Atobe liked to browse bookshops on Saturday mornings. He often found me Sunday evenings in the music shop near my house. I introduced him to the coffee that was sold in the café just next to that shop. He made it a point to email me about Latin music concerts. I would email him with details about classical music, another favorite of his. Initially, I didn’t like classical music much but it grew on me.
We talked about finishing that match.
~
Atobe leaned back in his chair with a contemplative look. “We never got to finish our match, did we?”
I shook my head, knowing where this was going.
He nibbled daintily at the biscuit that accompanied his coffee. “Then, are you free this Sunday? We can meet at the street courts.”
“I’m free. But the street courts are always packed on weekends,” I pointed out.
He thought for a moment. “How about the community lot beside the rail tracks? The courts there are quite run-down and not many people like to go there.”
“All right.” I remembered that court; it was where I first played with Echizen. “Echizen… the first time I played against Echizen wasn’t during the Kantou Finals but it was on that court. The Finals were postponed….”
I found myself telling Atobe about the match. About how I beat him but he bounced back scarcely a week later.
“Just like Echizen,” Atobe gave a rueful laugh. “His talent is scary and I have no doubt he has not yet reached his full potential.”
“I heard he’s doing well in America,” I murmured, a hint of envy in my voice. “He will probably debut as a pro as soon as he comes of age.”
“I have no doubt about that as well.” Atobe picked up his cup of coffee, swirling it thoughtfully before he took a sip. “And you?”
“Me?”
He looked at me over the rim of his cup. “Do you have plans for playing professionally as well?”
People have asked me that and I usually ignore them, leaving them to draw their own conclusions. But the quietness in Atobe’s question tugged at me. “I… I admit I have dreams of turning pro, but plans… no. It’s easy to say I want to play professionally, but there are a lot of other factors to consider.”
Atobe blinked, gave me a slow smile. “You’re very honest.”
I looked at him shrewdly. “I think you understand what I mean very well.”
Atobe set his empty cup down with a clink, his gaze turning wistful. “I would love to even have the chance to play professionally. But I cannot.”
“Aa.” While Atobe was probably one of the few in our age group most likely to succeed as a pro, after Echizen, he also was the only heir to the Atobe fortune. It was not easy.
No. It would not be easy. But he shouldn’t give up before he even tried.
“However, the life of a professional athlete is short and your father will not retire for many more years.” I tried to sound hopeful, but I also knew how familial ties could clip one’s wings.
“Maybe.” Atobe pursed his lips unhappily. “Do you think anyone else would turn pro?”
“From our age group you mean?”
“Yes.”
I thought for a moment. “Akaya… Seigoku… Who else do you think would?”
“Tezuka,” Atobe said softly.
I felt myself frown in irritation. Looking up, I noticed the overcast skies with a grunt. “Rainy season’s coming.”
Atobe gave me an odd look, but let my odd behavior go. Even I didn’t know what came over me.
“You going anywhere after that?” Atobe asked amicably. After the rainy season in June dried up, it was a favorite time for Japanese to travel in July.
“Maybe somewhere cool to escape the summer, like Hokkaido. Tokyo is like a sauna in summer.” I didn’t sound too hopeful; I knew just about everybody else would have the same idea.
“Hokkaido’s popular in summer,” Atobe pointed out. “It will be very crowded.”
“If I can’t go, I can’t go.” I shrugged. I pushed my plate across to him; I’m not that fond of biscuits and I know he has a sweet tooth.
Atobe picked up my biscuit with a slight smile. “I’ve a cottage up in Hokkaido.”
I raised a brow. I’ve heard about, and seen, Atobe’s cottages. Tennis *teams* from rival schools have been invited to play with Hyotei at his cottages, and everyone was always fully pampered.
“I was supposed to go with some members from my team, but Gakuto and Jiroh can’t make it. Why don’t you invite a friend as well?”
“You’re assuming I would go,” I said flatly.
“Wouldn’t you?” He grinned impishly at me. Damn his confidence. I knew I would - it was an irresistible offer and I had no other plans for Obon week.
“Invite Kirihara,” Atobe told me. “And bring your rackets.”
Somehow I’m not too surprised. Akaya would have been my first choice, considering the other people going on this trip. Atobe liked Akaya but was always indifferent towards Seiichi. And Akaya got along well with the Hyotei team; I’ve no doubt he would have fitted in well there.
“Anything else?” I asked dryly, feeling distinctly steam-rollered. A common feeling around Atobe.
Atobe stood up, draping his jacket over his shoulders with a stylish swirl. “Four o’clock on Sunday. Don’t be late.”
~