Konomi reached for the bottle of sake and, swaying, managed to slosh a bit more into his glass. It only took him four tries.

"'s good sake, man," said one of his minions. Konomi liked having minions. He'd discovered, early on during the first Geniuses of the manga, that minions were very enjoyable. He'd invented Yukimura and Rikkai for that reason, in the hopes that his minions would get the hint and be more minionly.

"Pay 'tention," Konomi slurred, and stabbed his notebook with his pen. "We're s'posed to be plotting."

"Plotting, right. Right. Plotting. That. Whassat?"

"Tennis matches," Konomi sniffed. His minions sucked. He wished they were more like Rikkai minions.

"Right. Matches. Them. We like 'em. They're fun," said the minion, staring moodily into his glass. He reached for the bottle.

Konomi swiped it away and stared in bemusement as the liquor puddle in the middle of the table spread. He waved it off and hunched over the notebook in his lap again. "We gotta do somethin'. 's th' last match. Gotta do somethin' really cool. Like they'll never 'spect. They'll never 'spect it," he stressed.

"Shiny bums."

"Eh?"

"They never 'spect 'em. Pantsing people's good."

Konomi stared at his minion with the long, cool look of someone who has no idea what's being communicated. "We done that already."

"So?" cackled his minion. "I loves it. I loves it damn muchlike. 's funny, s'wot 'tis."

"No, we gotta figger out the thing. Winners-things. For the tennis."

"Right, them," the minion said. He'd propped up his head with one arm, elbow on the table, and was swirling the fingers of his other hand through the sake on the table. "Otherwise, the... the whatsits. That're always around. All the time."

"Tennis rackets."

"No, no, with the round and the bouncy and--"

"Tennis balls."

"NO. The shrieky and the... girly perfume. And the screams."

Konomi paused. He had another gulp of sake and said, "Fangirls?"

The minion slammed his hand on the table. "Them! You gotta be careful of them. Daner--dongar--dangererer--scary critters, them. Hire yakuza to kill ya."

"Should have a genius with scary fangirls," Konomi mumbled into his sake.

"And shiny bums."

"Right."

"Right."

"S'wot were y'sayin' 'bout the fangirls?"

"Scary."

"S'right."

"Cause they... Dunno. S'weird."

"Bunta and Jiroh," Konomi muttered.

"Wot?"

"Should play doubububleses."

"Why?"

"Cause then... then, all the fangirls, right. I mean, ALL the fangirls everyone. Where. Everywhere. All of 'em, right? You got 'em all in your head?"

"Right?"

"All of 'em, they'll all... What'll they do?"

"Make 'em fuck around."

"Right. Right. Right, fucking around. Right."

"Porn. And the little fluffy love whatevers."

"Right. Them. They'll do it. It'll be sweet." Konomi laughed until he was breathless and mostly collapsed over the table. His minion only frowned at him. Konomi patted his hand. "There, 's good minion. S'nice minion."

"Not a minion. Hired artist. Paid artist. Draw backgrounds an' nets an' things."

"Sweet little minion-kun."

"Can't play doubles."

"Wot?"

"They can't. Don't go to school t'gether."

Konomi stared at the table intensely for a minute, then slammed his hand onto the top. The minion jumped and sloshed sake all down his front. "Ninjas! They'll never expect ninjas! No one ever expects ninjas!"

"Wh'for?"

"For... for... Keigo's ninjas."

"Keigo has ninjas?"

"Keigo totally has ninjas," he answered feelingly. "And should be am-ne-si-a," Konomi said, taking his hand back. "One of 'em can totally forget everything that ever happened."

"Eh? Won't be'ble to talk, then."

"Sure he will. Ev'ryone whose got amnesia can talk. Duh." He sloshed more sake into the glass, then glowered when it didn't work. "Where's'a plum wine?"

"Who?"

"No, I said wine."

"Who's gonna get amnesia, baka-sensei!"

"Oh." Konomi stared at the table again, whereby finding the wine. "Seiichi?"

"Don't pick on Seiichi."

"Genichirou?"

"Don't wreck their marriage."

"Right. Right. Ryoma?"

"Bloody fucker."

"Bitch," Konomi agreed fervently, and took a chug of plum wine straight from the bottle. "Wouldn't be... be... this. Doin' this. Whad'm I doin?"

"Drinkin'."

"Right. Goin' to th'... thingy." He gestured with the bottle. "This thingy."

"The drink."

"Right. Wouldn't be doin' that if I didn't have him 'round. Fuckin' Nationals."

"Shoulda been about Aka-chan. Toljoo."

"Shuddup. Hate him."

"Bastard!"

"Eh?" Konomi blinked blearily and clutched his notebook to his chest. "Y'hate him too, jus'said."

"Oh, Ryoma. Too many bloody characters."

"So there'll be ninjas." Konomi swayed, blinked, then swayed again. "And then they'll all play doubles. Genichirou and Seiichi and Keigo and Jiroh and Bunta and Syuusuke and Mitsu-chan. And all the fangirls, they'll all... they'll say... Married, right, that's what they'll say."

"What about the thing?"

"What thing?"

"The thing! With the... the things," the minion said lamely. "And the hitting them across the whatsits with the other things. 'S a game. Y'write about it."

"Oh, tennis."

"That."

Konomi reached for the bottle of plum wine, missed, and tried again. "What about it?" he mumbled.

"Y'tell me."

"'S a game. Like sex, but not. 'S why they're all married-like, you know."

"You know who's married?"

"You?"

"No. The Golden Pair."

"I think I should break them up," Konomi said thoughtfully.

"What!" the minion shrieked. "Th' fans, they'll contact the yakuza and you'll be assassassinateded. Same if you let Seigaku win. Same if you let Rikkai win. Someun's gonna send people who look like Eishirou-chan after you."

"Eishi-who?"

"Kite."

"Oh. Too many bloody characters."

"Mmngh."

"Angst is good," Konomi said, crooning thoughtfully at the ceiling.

The artist let his head fall back onto his arms and grumbled.

"So's ninjas," Konomi continued. "And being switchy as... as a... as a switchy thing," he finished decisively. "And being like Freud. It's edumacational."

"Freudwhat?"

"Pillars and rackets an' things. And balls."

"B'long to Mitsu-chan, those do. All of 'em."

"Wot?"

"Nuffin."

"What if..." Konomi's pen weaved through the air. "What if Seiichi's part fairy?"

"Too obff-ibfif--too easy t'see."

"Yeahhhh. What if...¨

"Iiiiii know," said the artist, falling over on the table a little bit. "I gots the prefect--the perfectectest idea. Is good idea. They'll never 'spect it. Never."

"What's it?"

"What's what?"

"Th' bloody idea!" Konomi grumbled into the wine bottle, "Stupid minion."

"Kay. Kay. 'S wot you do, right. You gotta relapse Seiichi."

Konomi whined unhappily. "Don't pick on Seiichi. He's m'favorite."

"Nononono, lissen. You relapse Seiichi, right. Right in the middle of the thingy. The match thingy. Right?"

"No."

"Yeah, yeah you--no wait, not yet. First you gotta have Rikkai, like, standing on the wall and cheering. Right?"

"No relapsing."

"And so, 's the thingy. Th'last point thingy, right?"

"Right?"

"And then," the minion paused for a fit of giggles and another swig of liquor, "Then we pantses Gen-chan." He giggled again. "Lotsa shiny bum. Loves it. So fuckin' funny."

"'s not a good idea yet."

"Coz ima just startin'. Kay. Right. So you pantses Sanada just durin' match point, just as bloody Echizen--"

"Bitch."

"--Just as he's returned the ball. Coz he's in the glowy thing or somethin'. He's way up high in the pinnacle of whatever, so he can return some of Seiichi's shots."

"Pretty Seiichi's tennis."

"Uss. So the ball's zoomin'--I mean really rocketin', yeh?--across the court and Seiichi's standin' there all pretty and a li'l bit bored, you know?"

Konomi smiled fondly into the liquor puddle on the table.

"And then," the artist continued, "then we pantses Gen-chan."

"How?" Konomi asked, doodling in the liquid.

The artist stared at the swirls, took another gulp of liquor, and said, "Masa-kun."

Konomi sniggered. "Sneaky little sneaking thing. 's a good one. What then?"

"Seiichi's distro--dastra--he doesn't pay attention to the tennis."

"'Cause he's married, right."

"Right."

¨An' then... then... what?¨

"I dunno."

"Right, then he relapses. Seiichi. Right. From the nosebleed or somethin'."

"And then Gen-chan jumps off'r th' wall an' pulls up 's pants an' smacks Masa-kun all at once!" Konomi finished, waving the bottle triumphantly.

"EssACTLY. An', an' he runs on to the court, 'cause everyone's freakin' out, right, an--"

"An' he falls onnis knees--"

"An' he screams--"

"'YUKIMURAAAAA!'" they chorused, attempting a toast and spilling another quarter of the drinks onto the table.

'An' he's takin' 's beautiful ill buchou innis arms, right, you seein' it? An', an' then Seiichi's eyes, they... whad th' do?"

"Open?"

"Yeah, but pretty. Th' flutter open, an' an'..." The minion started getting choked up and tearful. "An' he raises one hand ter Gen-chan's cheek, real slow-like. Like this. An' an' an' they look into each other's eyes. They gaze. Meaningfullyly."

"An' then they confesses undyin' larve, righ'?"

"Right. An' there's butterflies. An' sparkles. An' bubbles. An' sunshine. And thrr's like... like a tossy thing. The pro-jec-ti-le tossy thing. Catapult tossything. An' an' we catapult, right, we catapult Gen-chan's family rock at Ryofucker and 'e dies."

Konomi sniffled. "Thasssso beautiful, man."

"Yeah, an' 's genius too. Tensai deki!" The minion giggled into his liquor, took a gulp, then noticed he'd splashed the rest of it on the table several minutes ago. "Wheressa likker, man?"

"Eh?"

"Th' likker." The minion stared hard at the glass as Konomi refilled it, kindly redampening the minion's wrist and cuff while he was at it. "'s genius, 'cause then neither of 'm'll win."

"Eh?"

"'f Seiichi collapses an' Ryoma dies, 's like... like a draw, right? So they've gotta go t'alterthingies. An' then Yukimura doesn't win an' Ryoma doesn't win. An' they'll never see't comin'. Cause 's like, not okay for Seiichi to fail. 's'not right. 'S'not. 'S'kay for one o' t'others t'lo--"

"Don' say th' L-word!"

The minion paused. "To not-win. But Seiichi's like... like god, man."

Konomi nodded thoughtfully, then grabbed the table so he wouldn't lose his balance.