Standard disclaimers apply

Set around episode 73: Tezuka's Decision

Rendezvous

He closed the door gently behind him and turned to his right, walking down the corridor with a solemn expression imprinted upon his face. The brief conversation he had with Kantoku rang freshly in his mind, in which the distinguished man had revealed his intention. Even though he had anticipated it, the revelation still shocked him. He did not why. Was it because his conscience was pricked?

It couldn't be. He did not do anything wrong. He was merely carrying out his duty as the buchou – leading his team to victory, at all cost. The duty of a buchou was something only those who shared his fate understood (saved for the malicious intent, of course) and he knew of one who personified that duty beyond obligation. The one that had been brought to light a few minutes ago by Kantoku, the one who he had the greatest honor battling against. Ah, he had not such an apparition before and had in fact regarded the other cynically but that fateful rendezvous had changed his perception entirely. How was it that he could foresee an enemy's weakness but not his strength until it became too obvious? Or did he choose not to see it?

Questions after questions pounded him but he realized that the answers rest with the one who was plaguing his mind then. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to put a stop to the unwanted queries. Looking up, he was mildly surprised to see that he had reached the tennis clubhouse and as if momentarily shutdown before, his senses instantly revived and his ears caught the familiar thud of ball against racket flying back and forth. He walked around the clubhouse towards the courts, where he spotted one of Hyoutei's tensai and his redhead partner in a friendly match against the other equally outstanding pair.

As if sensing his presence, the tensai turned and his movement distracted the whole game. Four pairs of eyes were upon him now, gazing at him expectantly and as calmly as he could, began moving forward. Much as he loved attention, he was finding the moment a rare exception.

"Atobe! What happened?" Mukahi Gakuto asked with a flip of his sweat-damped hair.

"Yes," interjected Oshitari Yuushi with that lazy drawl of his. "Enlighten us."

Atobe Keigo leveled a piercing gaze at the blue-haired tensai, idly seeing the slight resemblance with those glasses, height and languorous posture. Snapping himself out of his brief trance, he spoke. "Kantoku's going to meet up with Ryuzaki-sensei tomorrow evening to recommend that famous medical institution in Germany."

Comprehension dawned upon the four faces. "His injury is really serious then?" Ootori Choutarou commented carelessly and stopped short when he was granted a sharp look by his buchou. "Sumimasen," he apologized hastily and looked down. His partner, Shishido Ryou, stepped up protectively beside him.

The only other person who could be mildly offensive and able to get away with it was Oshitari. "With that kind of strategy, the damage is obviously extensive." A knowing gaze slid past the glass barriers and Atobe narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

"I'm going home. Remember to lock up the place." Without another word, he spun on his heels and strode off, blatantly ignoring the jab at his heart.

As he was clearing the dishes from the table, a shrill ring erupted and on its third cry, his father intercepted it. "Moshi moshi?" he heard his father saying as he walked into the kitchen. A few seconds later, his name was bellowed and he frowned slightly, wondering who the caller was.

"It's alright, Kunimitsu. Leave the washing up to me," his mother was saying then.

With a polite nod of his head, Tezuka treaded out of the kitchen and took the phone from his smiling father. "Hai, moshi moshi," he greeted.

There was a pause before the caller made himself known. "Tezuka?" a rich voice asked, almost hesitantly.

It was a voice Tezuka could not recognize but there was something familiar about it. "Hai. Who is this?"

Another pregnant pause. "It's me, Atobe."

The name, released like a bullet, shot through him and exploded warily throughout him. Unconsciously he squared his shoulders and when he spoke, his voice was laden with rime. "What do you want?"

A chuckle escaped from the other line but it sounded strangely strained. "I guess I don't deserve a civilized greeting, eh?"

Tezuka narrowed his eyes and mustered up his best polite voice. "Can I help you with anything, Atobe?"

"I… well, I…" Suddenly the great Atobe Keigo was stumbling for words. Tezuka heard the other boy took in a deep breath before stringing out a perfect sentence. "I want to have a talk with you at the street tennis courts at around 7.30."

An eyebrow rose questioningly. "Can't we have a talk over the phone?" he questioned, unable to keep out the incredulous edge in his voice.

Another strained laughter. "It's kind of inconvenient to have a proper conversation over the phone, don't you think? I promise you… no strings attached."

Promise? Promise was something that stemmed from trust and somehow, Atobe Keigo did not seem to fit anywhere in the equation. But nonetheless, Tezuka knew he could not be prejudiced. A quick glance at his watch revealed that he had half an hour before the designated time. "Fine, I'll see you there at 7.30."

There was a quick heave of what seemed like relief. "I'll be waiting then."

Part of the reason why Tezuka chose to meet up with Atobe was because he had thought the street tennis courts would be somewhat occupied with players. But as he ascended up the stairs and watched as the courts became apparent, it disturbed him to see that no one was around. Upon reaching the top, he scanned his environs and noted that there was someone sitting on one of the benches, legs crossed with both hands planted firmly upon the bench as he arched his back, looking up to the magenta-and-mauve streaked sky. Not surprisingly, that someone was the one he was scheduled to meet.

Knowing he had not much of a choice, Tezuka ambled forward, not bothering to keep his steps light and hushed. The shuffling of the shoes against the smooth ground alerted the grey-haired boy who promptly straightened and focused his attention onto the visitor. Upon reaching the benches, Tezuka halted, tucking one hand into the pocket of his black pants and looking on with bated breath at the seated boy.

Atobe smiled, a somewhat rueful manifestation. "Tezuka yo… thanks for coming."

"Hn."

The grey-haired boy patted the seat beside him. "Have a seat. I reckon this talk will take quite a while."

He would prefer to put a distance between them but he was brought up better than that. The word enemy did not exist in his vocabulary. Wordlessly he stepped up on the first two benches and flopped down beside Hyoutei's buchou. "It's awfully quiet here," he remarked nonchalantly with a straight look ahead.

"Aa. Nothing beats a conducive atmosphere," came the equally casual reply.

Tezuka said nothing, convinced that the boy beside him had something to do with the coincidental tranquility. Perhaps a wad of cash was the key solution. But they were not there to discuss about how one's financial standing could bend the wills of others. "What is it that you want to talk about?"

Atobe leaned forward, propping up one hand on his knee and rested his chin upon the open palm. His face turned towards Tezuka, where he was granted only the right profile. The other boy seemed intent in avoiding eye contact and Atobe suddenly had the urge to clear his image. He was no doubt playing the role of an antagonist but he did not want the bespectacled boy to remember him as such, though he undoubtedly deserved it. "Tezuka…" Receiving no acknowledgement, Atobe fought the impulse to turn that handsome head towards him. Surely he was not that unbearable to look at?

"Kantoku's meeting your Ryuzaki-sensei tomorrow evening," he said then, settling to have the talk first before sorting out his bruised ego.

"Sou ka?"

Atobe nodded. "He's going to pass her the pamphlet about that famous medical institution in Germany. A lot of famous tennis players go there for their treatment." As the last word left him, he observed the other boy's reaction carefully. He was expecting maybe a surprise gasp or at least the arching of one eyebrow. But Seigaku's stoic buchou remained true to his composed nature.

"Sou ka?"

Unable to help himself, Atobe grinned. "You really are a tough nut to crack, Tezuka."

That got the bespectacled boy to turn and fixed a seemingly harmless gaze upon his rival. "Not that tough," Tezuka could not resist saying as he raised his right hand to pat his left shoulder – the shoulder that was 'cracked'.

Things did not look too favorable for Atobe. Redeeming himself before the stoic boy was but a thing of the past now. He straightened then and shifted in his seat to face Tezuka fully. Without thinking, he raised his own hand and edged it towards the shoulder that he had tried to damage.

Tezuka was almost usually not easily shaken but the sudden move by Atobe startled him considerably that he instinctively pulled back, his action catching the Hyoutei's buchou by surprise too as the hand froze midway in its journey. His hazel eyes unconsciously locked onto the aquamarine ones and the wariness in his own eyes probably evident to his rival. Atobe smiled then, genuine almost, unlike the usual trademark smirk that he had flashed so often during their match.

"Daijobu yo…" Atobe drawled as he resumed his intent. His hand landed softly upon the broad shoulder and eyes never leaving the other's face, proceeded to squeeze the taut muscle gently. "Does it still hurt?" he asked quietly.

"Betsuni," Tezuka managed to reciprocate, though the proximity between them was unnerving him somewhat. Atobe, on the other hand, seemed to be surviving just fine.

"It wasn't entirely my fault, you know," the grey-haired boy could not help saying. "You chose the long trial. And I have given you due credit when I raised both our hands at the end of the match. I am the absolute victor, aren't I?"

"Aa," was all Tezuka could say.

Atobe titled his head to one side, eyes imploring. "I was wrong about you, Tezuka. I thought you were just a calm and collected player. But as the match prolonged, I began to see your fighting spirit, your passion. I then realize that you really did deserve the number one spot at the national level. Therefore, towards the end of our match, I was fighting not only to win but to show you that I, too, have spirit and passion."

Tezuka was well aware of it. Only those with passion could see the passion burning in others. "I know," he said with what he hoped to be a reassuring look.

Atobe decided other than his own face, Tezuka's was the only other face he could stare at forever and not be bored. Granted, he wished he could smooth away that slight frown but Atobe guessed it was part of the Tezuka appeal. And that appeal was beginning to stir an indescribable feeling within him. Slowly, he began moving his fingers in little circles, savoring the feel of Tezuka's skin that was feebly veiled by his thin lilac shirt. The other boy stiffened and it enthused him to know that the Seigaku's buchou was not really stony after all.

"Atobe…"

"Go to Germany, Tezuka," Atobe interjected abruptly, his tone serious though his fingers were still engrossed in their enchanted waltz. "Heal your shoulder and then let's have another match again. This time, I will play with honesty and integrity. Of course, I will win again and it is then that I can proudly say that I, Atobe Keigo, defeated Tezuka Kunimitsu."

Despite the cockiness, Tezuka willed his lips to curve into a slight smile. Atobe's eyes widened at the miraculous sight and his fingers stopped their dance. They stared at each other for a long while before Tezuka finally broke the silence. "Thank you for telling me about the medical institution. I think… I will follow your advice."

A slow smile began to form on Atobe's lips. "Of course you will follow my advice," he cooed. He watched the frown on the other's face deepening slightly and he laughed. "I'll be waiting for you," he continued earnestly as his fingers found their pace again.

Somehow, Tezuka found himself believing wholly in the simple promise. And he decided that he liked the feel of those fingers on his shoulder. "Till our next rendezvous then," he agreed with a small smile.

Wai… my first AtobeTezuka! I am currently obsessing over this pairing and I've read every single AtoTezu fics available in TeniPuri fandom. Seems like most fics have the same 'Atobe-feels-sorry-and-tries-to-win-Tezuka' cliché and though it seemed repetitive, it is nevertheless an effective formula, eh? My fic has the same cliché but I hope it is slightly different from the rest.

So sorry there's no major AtoTezu interaction. I wanted to do a one-shot for this but figured that if I have 'nuff inspiration, I may carry on. But no guarantees, ya!

Possible questions that may arise after reading this fic:

1) Where's Kabaji during the first half of this fic? Let's just assume he has gone off first. Hehe, actually, I couldn't quite put him anywhere.

2) Where's everybody? [street tennis courts scene] Let's just again assume that Atobe bribed everyone to leave and hired bodyguards to prevent anyone from entering [except for Tezuka, of course]. The bodyguards are of course in hiding and only pounced out when unauthorized people come along.

3) Why make Atobe tell Tezuka about the medical institution? Well, after Sakaki-sensei left, Ryuzaki-sensei called Tezuka right? [I am assuming it happened on the same evening] And Tezuka looked calm and almost immediately made the decision to go which surprised Ryuzaki-sensei. So as an over-imaginative fangirl, I am assuming that Atobe had a 'talk' with Tezuka prior that evening… Heheh….

That's all…