Happy Spring nakatani_yuushi!
Title: “Inheriting an Empire”
Recipient's name: nakatani_yuushi
Rating: PG
Pairing: Atobe+Hiyoshi
Warnings: Shounen-ai. Slight language.
Summary: Atobe teaches Hiyoshi the only way he knows how.
Author's notes: Hope you enjoy !
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Hiyoshi growled to himself for what seemed like the thirtieth time that day as he ripped off his regulars jacket and tossed it into the locker.
Two-hundred non-regulars. Two-hundred whiny, sniveling, pompous, bitchy non-regulars who could barely swing a racket in the right direction. Sure, some of them were good. A few of them were passable. Most of them shouldn’t even be allowed to leave their homes without a football helmet strapped to their heads.
It was embarrassing. He could barely hold their attention for longer than two minutes before snide comments were made his way or someone would crack some idiotic joke. Then, Hiyoshi would have to start assigning laps, which usually went ignored until Hiyoshi muttered ‘gekokujyou’ under his breath and looked about ready to kill. Then, and only then, would they take him seriously.
How had Atobe managed to put up with them while he was captain? Granted, he didn’t quite possess Atobe’s charm, nor did he have any particular will to strut around the court and snap his fingers at the beginning of every practice.
Atobe just had a presence that commanded attention. Even when he wasn’t doing anything particularly special, all eyes fell onto Atobe automatically. No wonder the boy had such a big ego.
It didn’t matter anymore, though. Atobe had graduated, and Hiyoshi was stuck with the largest junior high tennis team in Tokyo and no idea how to command them. Perhaps, he’d been over his head when he had decided to step up as captain.
Having Ohtori around as vice-captain made things slightly easier. At least Ohtori made an imposing figure with his height and a serve that could knock someone’s head off their shoulders if aimed properly.
But the fact still remained; Atobe hadn’t even needed a vice-captain.
“Is something wrong?” Ohtori asked him as he stepped up next to Hiyoshi to change out of his uniform.
“No. Everything’s fine,” he muttered sourly and pulled his shirt on over his head.
“Practice wasn’t that bad today.”
Leave it to Ohtori to try and lighten things up with his usual optimism. Hiyoshi wasn’t in the mood for it.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“It could have been worse,” Ohtori continued, unmindful of the deepening scowl on Hiyoshi’s face. “They’ll come around.”
He silently watched Ohtori grab a few things from his locker before the taller boy headed off to the showers. The only way it could have been worse was if Atobe showed up to rub his superior captain skills in his face.
“Hiyoshi,” a smooth, imperious voice drawled out from next to him.
Shit. How did he do that?
Hiyoshi quickly tugged his half-removed jersey back down before slowly turning to the side to gaze at his former captain. Atobe was leaning casually against the lockers, dressed in his high school uniform, and smirking at him with that perpetual all-knowing expression on his face.
He hadn’t seen or heard from the older boy in months, so it was somewhat of a shock to see him in person. Atobe hadn’t changed much aside from the re-growth of his hair and the bruise blooming on his temple.
Following his line of sight, one of Atobe’s hands immediately touched the bruise before his smirk grew wider. “Apparently some upperclassman deigned to pitch a ball at my head while I was cleaning up balls. He’s quit the tennis team, now.”
Hiyoshi had good reason to assume that guy probably went running from the courts with a proverbial tail between his legs after Atobe utterly demolished him in front of everyone. It was good to know he wasn’t the only one having difficulty adjusting.
“What are you doing here?” he finally asked Atobe.
“Sakaki called me and told me you were having trouble lately.”
Shit. Shit. Even Sakaki thought he was doing a poor job as captain. That most definitely didn’t warrant a phone call to Atobe, so the older boy could come over and point out all of Hiyoshi’s faults like he was still captain.
“I don’t need your help,” he hissed, annoyed that Sakaki hadn’t come to him first. Atobe wasn’t even in junior high anymore. What business was it of his whether or not Hiyoshi was playing the role of perfect captain?
“Good. I am not here to give you any help.”
Hiyoshi blinked in surprise. “You’re not?”
“No.” Atobe snapped his fingers and Kabaji came out from nowhere, holding Atobe’s tennis bag like he used to. “I want a match.”
“A match?” Hiyoshi repeated in disbelief.
Atobe nodded. “To become a leader, you have to usurp your predecessor, first. Isn’t that what all your ‘gekokujyou’ is about?”
Hiyoshi’s teeth gnashed together in annoyance. Atobe came all the way to his former school just to beat him at tennis and make all the non-regulars lose respect for him. This was beyond humiliating.
“And if I refuse?”
“You can’t refuse,” Atobe shot back, the humor never leaving his voice. “I want you out on the courts in fifteen minutes ready to play me.”
“You’re not the cap-“
Atobe cut him off with a raised hand. “If you don’t do it, Kabaji will physically carry you to the court. Isn’t that right, Kabaji?”
“Usu.”
Hiyoshi threw the older boy a sour look before grabbing his racket. Fifteen minutes later, and he found himself on one side of the court, facing Atobe who was wearing a cocky grin. He watched as Atobe tossed him one of the tennis balls and then slunk back to receive it.
After playing for nearly an hour, Hiyoshi began to suspect that Atobe was toying with him. Atobe hadn’t used any of his special moves nor did he appear as winded as Hiyoshi felt. The older boy merely gallivanted across the court as if this were all a private joke with himself.
“You’re not taking me seriously,” Hiyoshi growled under his breath, feeling the drops of sweat run down his forehead.
“What makes you think that?”
Hiyoshi didn’t reply. Instead, he served the ball towards Atobe faster than normal. He would end this quickly.
“I think you’re the one who’s not taking me seriously,” Atobe continued and returned the ball with a particularly harsh jack knife.
The ball went whizzing passed Hiyoshi’s ear, narrowly missing his face as it smacked roughly against the court. He glared at the small indent it left when it made contact and bent down to retrieve the ball. His teeth ground together again as he crushed his fingers around the ball, vowing he would go all out from then on.
The next time Hiyoshi served, he caught Atobe off guard, knocking it into the far right corner, just slightly in front of the line. Atobe’s lips curled upwards, and Hiyoshi felt a vicious sort of pride.
“You’re ready to play me, now?” the former Hyoutei captain asked, pulling out a new ball from his pocket.
Hiyoshi nodded and felt truly ready this time. The game lasted another half an hour, both of them throwing themselves into it as if it were a death match. Atobe stopped holding back and started aggressively attacking with some of his classic moves, and Hiyoshi managed to prove to be enough of a match for him, returning some of his counters with new moves of his own.
Of course, Atobe had won in the end, but they both felt gratified at the sheer exhaustion that washed through them. Hiyoshi hadn’t had a challenging match like that since Nationals and, perhaps that attributed to his recent aggravation. There weren’t anymore worthy players left in Hyoutei. Ohtori was good, but he was a doubles player, and Kabaji’s play style had its faults. Was this what Atobe felt while he was captain? He always figured Atobe liked defeating them on a regular basis, but on further examination, his former captain had probably been restless and waiting for an ideal opponent.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Atobe asked as he walked up to the net to shake hands with Hiyoshi.
The court was surprisingly empty, and Hiyoshi barely registered that it was near sunset and most of the members had gone for the day. As he shook hands with Atobe, he found himself nodding. It really had been invigorating, and he hadn’t realized how much he needed it.
“Good,” Atobe replied after a moment and then his face turned serious as he looked Hiyoshi in the eye. “There’s something I must leave you with before I take off again.”
Atobe’s hands landed on Hiyoshi’s shoulders, and the shorter boy tensed up and resisted the urge to pull away immediately. Atobe wasn’t the kind of person who openly administered physical contact. The only time Hiyoshi could ever recall Atobe touching other people was when he clasped their hands after a good tennis match, and aside from Tezuka, the touch always held an air of impersonality with it. His whole aura carried an iciness that kept people at a distance.
“Hiyoshi,” Atobe began with a certain graveness in his voice. His eyes were boring into Hiyoshi’s, and his fingers tightened slightly around his shoulders.
“I want you to become…the pillar of Hyoutei.”
Hiyoshi blinked. Okay, that was definitely not what he was expecting Atobe to say. He thought there would be a long speech about the glory and responsibility in being a captain or perhaps a more in-depth evaluation of his performance in tennis.
“…huh?”
“I want you to become the pillar of Hyoutei,” Atobe repeated.
It was official. Atobe had lost his mind.
“…”
A silence had fell upon them that could only be described as extremely awkward.
Then Atobe’s lips started to twitch until his face cracked completely, and he doubled over, bursting out into laughter. His eyes squeezed shut, and he grasped his sides, losing himself in the rich laughter that spilled free from his throat.
“I can’t…believe…I just said that…,” he managed to get out in between laughs.
Hiyoshi couldn’t say he had ever seen Atobe really laugh. He’d seen his maniacal cackles that made his skin crawl, and those husky, little chuckles that made his skin crawl in a different way. However, he’d never seen Atobe as he looked at that moment, tears gathering at his eyelashes and cheeks flushed with the exertion of cracking up until his breath was coming out in tiny wheezes.
It was infectious. Hiyoshi soon found his own lips pursing together to stop the laughter that threatened to spill out until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He doubled over next to Atobe and placed one hand casually on Atobe’s back to brace himself as he laughed alongside his former captain. He couldn’t help it. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Who would say that to anyone else?
When the laughter finally eased, both boys were panting with a new kind of exhaustion, feeling satiation from the release. It had been a long day for both of them, and it was good to finally let themselves go.
It took a while for Hiyoshi to notice his hand was still splayed against Atobe’s back, and he could feel the vibrant movement against his palm every time Atobe took in a shaky breath. His stomach felt warm at the thought of Atobe’s skin beneath the shirt, and he rapidly pulled his hand away, hoping the movement wasn’t as noticeable as it felt.
Atobe casually straightened up once he got a hold of himself, and he absently wiped at his lashes.
“Well, I hope this match has enlightened you, at least.”
It was a little belated, but Hiyoshi began to realize that Atobe had been teaching him how to be captain all along. He didn’t have to say it explicitly with words, but Hiyoshi had definitely learned something from him. He still wasn’t privy to marching around like a peacock on the tennis courts, but he knew Atobe managed to gain everyone’s respect by raw skill alone.
Just as Atobe turned away to head in towards the clubroom, Hiyoshi stopped him with one hand grasping onto the back of his jersey. It was weird, and he probably shouldn’t have touched him again so familiarly.
The former Hyoutei captain merely stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder at Hiyoshi, one eyebrow raised in question.
Hiyoshi suddenly felt very awkward, and he glanced off to the side, staring at another dent in the court. “…thank you,” he murmured after a moment, “for coming here and …” Hiyoshi paused to swallow around the lump in his throat. “You may be annoying, but you were a good captain.”
Atobe’s eyes widened slightly before a small smile graced his lips. Slowly, he turned around to face Hiyoshi and leaned in closer, one hand gripping Hiyoshi’s wrist, holding it still as he pressed something into the palm of his hand.
Hiyoshi felt a flood of heat shoot up his arms, and his body froze to the spot. He couldn’t move even if all his instincts screamed at him to pull away and regain his personal space.
“Next time, thank me by winning,” Atobe finally replied.
The touch lingered longer, and heat continued to wiggle its way into Hiyoshi’s body until his heart was suffused with a surge of blood, pounding frantically against his rib cage. It was an oddly intense sensation, and he could feel the sweat start to drip out of his pores. He hoped Atobe hadn’t noticed.
When Atobe finally moved away, Hiyoshi couldn’t tell if the sharp pang that ripped through him was disappointment or relief. The echo of footsteps along the court rang loudly in his head, and he almost forgot that Atobe had pressed something into his hands. Looking down slowly, he found a crumpled up note. It crinkled in his hands as he unfolded it. Sure enough, Atobe’s neat calligraphic handwriting appeared.
‘Your backhand needs work. 03-3441-7475. Call me. -Atobe.’
A rush of pink flooded into Hiyoshi’s cheek as he glared at the note. “Gekokujyou.”
“That’s an order,” Atobe absently yelled over his shoulder from all the way across the court.
-The End-
Omake 1:
Tezuka gently set aside his book as his cell phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it after verifying who the caller was, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.
“Atobe.”
“I took your advice.”
“And?”
“Only an idiot would base his entire philosophy as a junior high tennis team captain on becoming a piece of elongated stone.”
“…Worked for Echizen.”
Omake 2:
When Atobe finally moved away, Hiyoshi couldn’t tell if the sharp pang that ripped through him was disappointment or relief. The echo of footsteps along the court rang loudly in his head, and he almost forgot that Atobe had pressed something into his hands. Looking down slowly, he found a small, square-shaped object wrapped in a gaudy shade of purple.
’Grape,’ the shiny wrapper read.
A rush of pink flooded into Hiyoshi’s cheek as he glared at the condom. “Gekokujyou.”
Recipient's name: nakatani_yuushi
Rating: PG
Pairing: Atobe+Hiyoshi
Warnings: Shounen-ai. Slight language.
Summary: Atobe teaches Hiyoshi the only way he knows how.
Author's notes: Hope you enjoy !
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Hiyoshi growled to himself for what seemed like the thirtieth time that day as he ripped off his regulars jacket and tossed it into the locker.
Two-hundred non-regulars. Two-hundred whiny, sniveling, pompous, bitchy non-regulars who could barely swing a racket in the right direction. Sure, some of them were good. A few of them were passable. Most of them shouldn’t even be allowed to leave their homes without a football helmet strapped to their heads.
It was embarrassing. He could barely hold their attention for longer than two minutes before snide comments were made his way or someone would crack some idiotic joke. Then, Hiyoshi would have to start assigning laps, which usually went ignored until Hiyoshi muttered ‘gekokujyou’ under his breath and looked about ready to kill. Then, and only then, would they take him seriously.
How had Atobe managed to put up with them while he was captain? Granted, he didn’t quite possess Atobe’s charm, nor did he have any particular will to strut around the court and snap his fingers at the beginning of every practice.
Atobe just had a presence that commanded attention. Even when he wasn’t doing anything particularly special, all eyes fell onto Atobe automatically. No wonder the boy had such a big ego.
It didn’t matter anymore, though. Atobe had graduated, and Hiyoshi was stuck with the largest junior high tennis team in Tokyo and no idea how to command them. Perhaps, he’d been over his head when he had decided to step up as captain.
Having Ohtori around as vice-captain made things slightly easier. At least Ohtori made an imposing figure with his height and a serve that could knock someone’s head off their shoulders if aimed properly.
But the fact still remained; Atobe hadn’t even needed a vice-captain.
“Is something wrong?” Ohtori asked him as he stepped up next to Hiyoshi to change out of his uniform.
“No. Everything’s fine,” he muttered sourly and pulled his shirt on over his head.
“Practice wasn’t that bad today.”
Leave it to Ohtori to try and lighten things up with his usual optimism. Hiyoshi wasn’t in the mood for it.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“It could have been worse,” Ohtori continued, unmindful of the deepening scowl on Hiyoshi’s face. “They’ll come around.”
He silently watched Ohtori grab a few things from his locker before the taller boy headed off to the showers. The only way it could have been worse was if Atobe showed up to rub his superior captain skills in his face.
“Hiyoshi,” a smooth, imperious voice drawled out from next to him.
Shit. How did he do that?
Hiyoshi quickly tugged his half-removed jersey back down before slowly turning to the side to gaze at his former captain. Atobe was leaning casually against the lockers, dressed in his high school uniform, and smirking at him with that perpetual all-knowing expression on his face.
He hadn’t seen or heard from the older boy in months, so it was somewhat of a shock to see him in person. Atobe hadn’t changed much aside from the re-growth of his hair and the bruise blooming on his temple.
Following his line of sight, one of Atobe’s hands immediately touched the bruise before his smirk grew wider. “Apparently some upperclassman deigned to pitch a ball at my head while I was cleaning up balls. He’s quit the tennis team, now.”
Hiyoshi had good reason to assume that guy probably went running from the courts with a proverbial tail between his legs after Atobe utterly demolished him in front of everyone. It was good to know he wasn’t the only one having difficulty adjusting.
“What are you doing here?” he finally asked Atobe.
“Sakaki called me and told me you were having trouble lately.”
Shit. Shit. Even Sakaki thought he was doing a poor job as captain. That most definitely didn’t warrant a phone call to Atobe, so the older boy could come over and point out all of Hiyoshi’s faults like he was still captain.
“I don’t need your help,” he hissed, annoyed that Sakaki hadn’t come to him first. Atobe wasn’t even in junior high anymore. What business was it of his whether or not Hiyoshi was playing the role of perfect captain?
“Good. I am not here to give you any help.”
Hiyoshi blinked in surprise. “You’re not?”
“No.” Atobe snapped his fingers and Kabaji came out from nowhere, holding Atobe’s tennis bag like he used to. “I want a match.”
“A match?” Hiyoshi repeated in disbelief.
Atobe nodded. “To become a leader, you have to usurp your predecessor, first. Isn’t that what all your ‘gekokujyou’ is about?”
Hiyoshi’s teeth gnashed together in annoyance. Atobe came all the way to his former school just to beat him at tennis and make all the non-regulars lose respect for him. This was beyond humiliating.
“And if I refuse?”
“You can’t refuse,” Atobe shot back, the humor never leaving his voice. “I want you out on the courts in fifteen minutes ready to play me.”
“You’re not the cap-“
Atobe cut him off with a raised hand. “If you don’t do it, Kabaji will physically carry you to the court. Isn’t that right, Kabaji?”
“Usu.”
Hiyoshi threw the older boy a sour look before grabbing his racket. Fifteen minutes later, and he found himself on one side of the court, facing Atobe who was wearing a cocky grin. He watched as Atobe tossed him one of the tennis balls and then slunk back to receive it.
After playing for nearly an hour, Hiyoshi began to suspect that Atobe was toying with him. Atobe hadn’t used any of his special moves nor did he appear as winded as Hiyoshi felt. The older boy merely gallivanted across the court as if this were all a private joke with himself.
“You’re not taking me seriously,” Hiyoshi growled under his breath, feeling the drops of sweat run down his forehead.
“What makes you think that?”
Hiyoshi didn’t reply. Instead, he served the ball towards Atobe faster than normal. He would end this quickly.
“I think you’re the one who’s not taking me seriously,” Atobe continued and returned the ball with a particularly harsh jack knife.
The ball went whizzing passed Hiyoshi’s ear, narrowly missing his face as it smacked roughly against the court. He glared at the small indent it left when it made contact and bent down to retrieve the ball. His teeth ground together again as he crushed his fingers around the ball, vowing he would go all out from then on.
The next time Hiyoshi served, he caught Atobe off guard, knocking it into the far right corner, just slightly in front of the line. Atobe’s lips curled upwards, and Hiyoshi felt a vicious sort of pride.
“You’re ready to play me, now?” the former Hyoutei captain asked, pulling out a new ball from his pocket.
Hiyoshi nodded and felt truly ready this time. The game lasted another half an hour, both of them throwing themselves into it as if it were a death match. Atobe stopped holding back and started aggressively attacking with some of his classic moves, and Hiyoshi managed to prove to be enough of a match for him, returning some of his counters with new moves of his own.
Of course, Atobe had won in the end, but they both felt gratified at the sheer exhaustion that washed through them. Hiyoshi hadn’t had a challenging match like that since Nationals and, perhaps that attributed to his recent aggravation. There weren’t anymore worthy players left in Hyoutei. Ohtori was good, but he was a doubles player, and Kabaji’s play style had its faults. Was this what Atobe felt while he was captain? He always figured Atobe liked defeating them on a regular basis, but on further examination, his former captain had probably been restless and waiting for an ideal opponent.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Atobe asked as he walked up to the net to shake hands with Hiyoshi.
The court was surprisingly empty, and Hiyoshi barely registered that it was near sunset and most of the members had gone for the day. As he shook hands with Atobe, he found himself nodding. It really had been invigorating, and he hadn’t realized how much he needed it.
“Good,” Atobe replied after a moment and then his face turned serious as he looked Hiyoshi in the eye. “There’s something I must leave you with before I take off again.”
Atobe’s hands landed on Hiyoshi’s shoulders, and the shorter boy tensed up and resisted the urge to pull away immediately. Atobe wasn’t the kind of person who openly administered physical contact. The only time Hiyoshi could ever recall Atobe touching other people was when he clasped their hands after a good tennis match, and aside from Tezuka, the touch always held an air of impersonality with it. His whole aura carried an iciness that kept people at a distance.
“Hiyoshi,” Atobe began with a certain graveness in his voice. His eyes were boring into Hiyoshi’s, and his fingers tightened slightly around his shoulders.
“I want you to become…the pillar of Hyoutei.”
Hiyoshi blinked. Okay, that was definitely not what he was expecting Atobe to say. He thought there would be a long speech about the glory and responsibility in being a captain or perhaps a more in-depth evaluation of his performance in tennis.
“…huh?”
“I want you to become the pillar of Hyoutei,” Atobe repeated.
It was official. Atobe had lost his mind.
“…”
A silence had fell upon them that could only be described as extremely awkward.
Then Atobe’s lips started to twitch until his face cracked completely, and he doubled over, bursting out into laughter. His eyes squeezed shut, and he grasped his sides, losing himself in the rich laughter that spilled free from his throat.
“I can’t…believe…I just said that…,” he managed to get out in between laughs.
Hiyoshi couldn’t say he had ever seen Atobe really laugh. He’d seen his maniacal cackles that made his skin crawl, and those husky, little chuckles that made his skin crawl in a different way. However, he’d never seen Atobe as he looked at that moment, tears gathering at his eyelashes and cheeks flushed with the exertion of cracking up until his breath was coming out in tiny wheezes.
It was infectious. Hiyoshi soon found his own lips pursing together to stop the laughter that threatened to spill out until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He doubled over next to Atobe and placed one hand casually on Atobe’s back to brace himself as he laughed alongside his former captain. He couldn’t help it. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Who would say that to anyone else?
When the laughter finally eased, both boys were panting with a new kind of exhaustion, feeling satiation from the release. It had been a long day for both of them, and it was good to finally let themselves go.
It took a while for Hiyoshi to notice his hand was still splayed against Atobe’s back, and he could feel the vibrant movement against his palm every time Atobe took in a shaky breath. His stomach felt warm at the thought of Atobe’s skin beneath the shirt, and he rapidly pulled his hand away, hoping the movement wasn’t as noticeable as it felt.
Atobe casually straightened up once he got a hold of himself, and he absently wiped at his lashes.
“Well, I hope this match has enlightened you, at least.”
It was a little belated, but Hiyoshi began to realize that Atobe had been teaching him how to be captain all along. He didn’t have to say it explicitly with words, but Hiyoshi had definitely learned something from him. He still wasn’t privy to marching around like a peacock on the tennis courts, but he knew Atobe managed to gain everyone’s respect by raw skill alone.
Just as Atobe turned away to head in towards the clubroom, Hiyoshi stopped him with one hand grasping onto the back of his jersey. It was weird, and he probably shouldn’t have touched him again so familiarly.
The former Hyoutei captain merely stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder at Hiyoshi, one eyebrow raised in question.
Hiyoshi suddenly felt very awkward, and he glanced off to the side, staring at another dent in the court. “…thank you,” he murmured after a moment, “for coming here and …” Hiyoshi paused to swallow around the lump in his throat. “You may be annoying, but you were a good captain.”
Atobe’s eyes widened slightly before a small smile graced his lips. Slowly, he turned around to face Hiyoshi and leaned in closer, one hand gripping Hiyoshi’s wrist, holding it still as he pressed something into the palm of his hand.
Hiyoshi felt a flood of heat shoot up his arms, and his body froze to the spot. He couldn’t move even if all his instincts screamed at him to pull away and regain his personal space.
“Next time, thank me by winning,” Atobe finally replied.
The touch lingered longer, and heat continued to wiggle its way into Hiyoshi’s body until his heart was suffused with a surge of blood, pounding frantically against his rib cage. It was an oddly intense sensation, and he could feel the sweat start to drip out of his pores. He hoped Atobe hadn’t noticed.
When Atobe finally moved away, Hiyoshi couldn’t tell if the sharp pang that ripped through him was disappointment or relief. The echo of footsteps along the court rang loudly in his head, and he almost forgot that Atobe had pressed something into his hands. Looking down slowly, he found a crumpled up note. It crinkled in his hands as he unfolded it. Sure enough, Atobe’s neat calligraphic handwriting appeared.
‘Your backhand needs work. 03-3441-7475. Call me. -Atobe.’
A rush of pink flooded into Hiyoshi’s cheek as he glared at the note. “Gekokujyou.”
“That’s an order,” Atobe absently yelled over his shoulder from all the way across the court.
-The End-
Omake 1:
Tezuka gently set aside his book as his cell phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it after verifying who the caller was, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.
“Atobe.”
“I took your advice.”
“And?”
“Only an idiot would base his entire philosophy as a junior high tennis team captain on becoming a piece of elongated stone.”
“…Worked for Echizen.”
Omake 2:
When Atobe finally moved away, Hiyoshi couldn’t tell if the sharp pang that ripped through him was disappointment or relief. The echo of footsteps along the court rang loudly in his head, and he almost forgot that Atobe had pressed something into his hands. Looking down slowly, he found a small, square-shaped object wrapped in a gaudy shade of purple.
’Grape,’ the shiny wrapper read.
A rush of pink flooded into Hiyoshi’s cheek as he glared at the condom. “Gekokujyou.”