PoT Fic: "Outtakes from the Junior Invitational Selection Camp" 3/5 (PG-13) - All-Cast Ensemble
Title: "Outtakes from the Junior Invitational Selection Camp" 3/5 
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: All-Cast Ensemble, mostly gen with a few slashy overtones.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,418, for this chapter.
Spoilers/Warnings: Boys in dorms. Lots of them. No spoilers unless the Selection Camp arc from the anime still counts. Special chapter warning: I try to draw in this one. It is not pretty! Now you all know why I'm not a fanartist.
Summary: Behind the scenes in all the dorms of the Junior Invitational Selection Camp.
Notes: See Chapter 1.
Notes 2: Written for writing_fest. The scenes in this chapter use the prompts: 'Friday the 13th', 'racing back home', 'violins', 'a man standing alone under a streetlight in the middle of the night', and 'Hallmark card'.
Outtakes from the Junior Invitational Selection Camp
by Kantayra
Chapter Three
***
The Legend of Sakuno the Brave: Bad Luck
“We’re all going to die!” Horio announced first thing that morning while they were cleaning up.
“Huh? What?” Kachiro looked around nervously in case Atobe had come back, now that Sakuno wasn’t there to save them.
“What are you talking about?” Katsuo eyed Horio suspiciously.
“Don’t you know anything?” Horio insisted. “It’s Friday the thirteenth!”
“So?” Dan blinked at him.
“So it’s bad luck!” Horio informed them all. “Today, the fates are turned against us all.”
“Really?” Katsuo scratched his head. “Every single person on the planet simultaneously has bad luck?”
“That doesn’t seem likely,” Kachiro agreed.
“Wouldn’t all the hospitals be overcrowded, then?” Dan said. “And it would be on the news, and-”
“It’s bad luck,” Horio repeated. “You want to know what happened to me last Friday the thirteenth?”
“What?” Dan asked curiously.
“Tell us!” Katsuo agreed.
Horio frowned down at the garbage bag before him in distaste. “Help me carry this out, and I will.”
Katsuo, Kachiro, and Dan, who were - of course - completely oblivious to all forms of deceit, agreed immediately. The three of them jostled along the overstuffed garbage bags, while Horio led the way completely unencumbered. It was a great thing to be the supervisor.
“Now, tell us,” Kachiro demanded as he lugged his bag down the back stairs.
“So I woke up last Friday the thirteenth, and I foolishly didn’t even know what day it was,” Horio began. “I got out of bed and, first thing, stubbed my toe on the doorframe.”
“That’s not so bad,” Katsuo said skeptically.
“I’m just beginning!” Horio insisted. “So, after that, I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet.”
Kachiro snickered.
Horio scowled at him. “Then I went downstairs to breakfast, but my dad had to go into work early, and my mom had to rush over to my aunt’s to help with the baby, so she left me a note to make breakfast for myself. So I had cold rice cakes.”
“Bummer,” Kachiro agreed.
Dan nodded vigorously.
“Then, there was a pop quiz in math class that day, and I forgot to do the homework in English,” Horio rattled on. “I forgot to bring my lunch, and everything was gone in the lunch line by the time I got there.”
“Isn’t that practically every day for you?” Katsuo pointed out.
Horio glared at him. “Finally, one of the upperclassman knocked his bag into me, and I fell down the stairs. It was a cursed day!” Horio insisted.
“It does seem unlikely that all of that could happen on a normal day,” Dan said thoughtfully.
“But it doesn’t mean anyone’s going to die,” Kachiro pointed out. Then, he tripped over an exposed root and fell face first into the garbage he was carrying. He got back up with a sputter, swatting at the potato peels that were all over his face.
Katsuo’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, it’s true!”
“Save me, Akutsu-senpai!” Dan squeaked.
They all gave him very odd looks.
“So now you know.” Horio waggled his finger at them authoritatively. “You have to be extra on-guard all day. I’m sure if Captain Tezuka were here, he’d tell us all.”
“Doesn’t he say that every day?” Katsuo scratched his head.
Horio swatted at him for good measure. “Come on, guys. Finish taking the trash out,” he ordered.
Kachiro and Katsuo blinked, just now realizing how Horio had tricked them into doing all the work. Dan continued on, completely oblivious. However, when he turned the corner leading to where the garbage pick-up was, he froze.
“Uh… Guys?” he said nervously. “I-I think we have a problem.”
Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo rounded the corner, stopped, and stared.
“Uh…” Katsuo said nervously.
“No way!” Kachiro gasped.
“See?” Horio proclaimed. “It’s the Friday-the-thirteenth curse!”
The four boys looked in dismay at the three-story ladder the maintenance crew had set up, so that the only way to the garbage bins was to walk underneath it. Atop the gate outside the bins, sat a black cat, contentedly licking its fur. As the four of them gaped, an owl swooped by in broad daylight.
“I-I’m not going in there!” Kachiro exclaimed.
“Me, neither!” Katsuo agreed.
“Nuh-uh,” Dan shook his head.
“You do it.” They all turned to Horio at once.
“W-What?” Horio sputtered. “We had a deal! You guys take out the trash, and I tell you all about Friday the thirteenth.”
“What’s the point of telling us about bad luck, just to force more bad luck on us?” Kachiro demanded.
“It’s your turn today, anyway,” Katsuo insisted.
Dan just shivered.
Horio gulped.
“What, are you scared?” Kachiro demanded.
“Ha!” Horio laughed. “Me, scared? Never! I’m just…”
“Scared,” Katsuo teased.
“Cautious,” Horio insisted. “Plus, there’s no reason I should put myself in danger unnecessarily.”
“How else are you going to take out the trash, then?” Katsuo demanded.
“Well,” Horio considered. “It’s not that far. We could just stand here and sort of lob the garbage bags in the direction of the bin.”
Kachiro considered this. It seemed feasible. Except… “Someone would have to open the gate first.”
“The gate that’s right under a ladder,” Katsuo pointed out.
“With a black cat on it!” Dan cheeped.
“On Friday the thirteenth!” Horio wailed.
At that moment, Sakuno decided to skip up to them. “Hey, guys,” she said shyly. “Tomo wondered where you were. She needs help setting up the cafeteria.”
Three frightened looks and one scheming look were leveled at her.
“Ah, hey, Sakuno.” Horio scratched his head in a way that he hoped looked casual and innocent. “Can you open that gate for us? We need to take out the trash.”
Sakuno blinked at him. That didn’t really make sense, since he could just open the gate on his own. On the other hand, there was no harm in it, so she just nodded and headed off to do so.
The four boys breathed in awe as she walked right under the ladder, scratched the cat under the chin until it purred and hopped away, and opened the gate wide.
“Is that it?” Sakuno asked curiously when she returned to them.
“Y-Y-Yes,” Horio stuttered. “That’s it.”
Sakuno beamed at them. “I’ll see you guys at breakfast, then.” She skipped right off.
They all watched her go, gaping.
“Sakuno…” Kachiro breathed.
“So brave!” Katsuo gasped.
“Almost as strong as Akutsu-senpai!” Dan exclaimed.
Horio snorted. “Whatever. Now, we have to toss these bags into the trash from here, without getting any bad luck on us. Drat, I should’ve gotten Sakuno to do it…”
The others nodded very seriously. Clearly, even the worst luck was no match for Sakuno the Brave.
***
The Kirihara/Kamio Wars: The Usual Drill
“I’ll show you your rhythm!” Kirihara screeched and tackled Kamio to the ground.
Momoshiro and Echizen didn’t even blink as they each moved to the side of the path and continued running right on by the dogfight.
“At this rate,” Momoshiro said thoughtfully, “we might even win.”
Echizen just grunted and picked up the pace.
“You’re such a psycho!” Kamio snarled and shoved Kirihara’s face into the mud.
“Oi, oi!” Kikumaru barely leapt over their heads in time as their struggle put them directly in his path.
“Be careful,” Oishi worried. “Someone could get hurt.” But he wasn’t giving up his place in the race, either, so he continued running past them.
“Die, die, die!” Kirihara snarled and tried to punch Kamio in the face. Kamio ducked just in time, and Kirihara’s hand ended up slipping in the mud instead. They both fell over again.
“Uh… Should we…?” Sengoku asked curiously as he raced past them.
“I’ve had enough of breaking those two up,” Kajimoto hummed to himself over the beat coming from his iPod. “Let them sort themselves out for once.”
Sengoku considered this for a second, but he’d already passed them by, so it really was too late. Plus, hell like he was going to risk coming in last.
“You’re just mad because you were too slow!” Kamio taunted, sputtering mud.
“I was fast enough to catch you, wasn’t I?” Kirihara sputtered back.
Shishido and Ohtori darted around them where they were sitting in the middle of a muddy puddle right in the center of the path, throwing dirt clods at each other and screaming.
“I really don’t look forward to next season,” Ohtori sighed wearily to himself.
Shishido snorted. “Those two as captains?”
Ohtori sighed again. “Worse: What if I have to play singles?” He shuddered.
Shishido snorted again. “It’s only one year.”
“One year with those two as captains,” Ohtori corrected.
Shishido shuddered this time. “You have my deepest condolences.”
However, then they spotted Oishi and Kikumaru up ahead, who had just been passed by Sengoku and Kajimoto.
“We can take them,” Shishido grinned at Ohtori.
A hint of competitive light gleamed in Ohtori’s eyes. “We so can.”
They dashed off until they were in a dead heat with the Seigaku pair. Of course, Oishi and Kikumaru refused to take that challenge lying down, so soon all four of them had caught up to Echizen and Momoshiro, who had also been passed by Sengoku and Kajimoto.
“Bad. Pacing!” Momoshiro gasped as Shishido passed right by him.
Next to him, Echizen wheezed his way up the hill.
“Oi, oi!” Kikumaru cheered them on. “Only one more mile!”
Momoshiro and Echizen groaned in unison, and Shishido gave Kikumaru an annoyed look.
Off in the distance, the sounds of a catfight could be heard.
As the finish line approached, the race heated up. Coach Ryuzaki came into view in the distance, a stopwatch in hand. It was enough to give nearly everyone a second wind.
“They’re catching up to us!” Kajimoto said nervously.
“Hurry up, then!” Sengoku glanced behind him. Unfortunately, he lost his footing and stumbled. This tugged on the rope that bound him to Kajimoto, and they both tumbled. By the time they got back up, the Shishido/Ohtori, Oishi/Kikumaru, and Momoshiro/Echizen pairs had all passed them.
It turned into a dead heat between Shishido/Ohtori and Oishi/Kikumaru. Everyone was so exhausted by this point that they were tripping each other up, except for those who were scarily psychic doubles pairs.
However, just as they reached the final dash for the finish line, the screams suddenly sounded a lot closer.
“Get back here, you jerk!” Kamio screamed.
Kirihara raced forward, eyes wide and terrified. Somehow, Kamio managed to stay right on his tail without tugging on the muddy rope that bound them together.
“And you call me the psycho?” Kirihara shouted back over his shoulder.
Everyone gaped in disbelief as they dashed right by, at well-nigh superhuman speed, and left everyone else in the dust.
“Shit!” Kajimoto and Sengoku swore and pushed themselves to the limit to try to pass Momoshiro and Echizen. In the end, they were too late, though.
“Not bad times,” Ryuzaki commented calmly, checking her stop watch, as all the pairs - except Kirihara and Kamio who were still chasing each other around the side of the building - collapsed to the ground just past the finish line. “Sengoku and Kajimoto, you came in last, so you’ve got clean-up duties tonight.”
Kajimoto and Sengoku let out groans in unison from the ground.
“And Kirihara and Kamio win game room privileges for the night,” Ryuzaki concluded. “You all could learn a lot from them about teamwork.”
“Bwuh?” Kikumaru blinked.
Shishido glared.
With a self-satisfied smile, Ryuzaki headed back to the coaches’ lounge. “Dismissed for today.”
“She’s evil,” Momoshiro gasped. “She was mocking us!”
Echizen nodded weakly in agreement.
“I can’t believe we lost to them,” Ohtori worried his lip between his teeth. “Shishido?”
Shishido just grunted.
Kajimoto and Sengoku just glared at each other.
“‘Put Kamio and Kirihara together’,” Kajimoto mock-imitated Sengoku’s suggestion from earlier. “‘That way at least we can’t lose.’”
Sengoku hung his head in shame. Everyone else did, too. After all, there were few things more depressing in the world than discovering that Kirihara and Kamio accidentally had better teamwork. Especially when shouts from another fight breaking out could be heard all the way from A-Court.
***
Do the Roommate Shuffle: Virtuoso
“I get the common-room sofa tonight,” Wakato announced. “I called it. Just so you know.”
“I got here first,” Oshitari retorted. “It’s mine.”
Atobe blinked and looked up from the very fine book of German poetry in his lap. “Are you two honestly fighting over which of you gets to sleep on that moldy old couch with the weird stain?”
Wakato and Oshitari turned to glare at him in unison. “Yes!” they insisted.
Atobe blinked some more.
“Do you have any idea how much Ibu talks?” Wakato ranted. “He never shuts up!”
“At least he’s not moaning out perverted fantasies about his coach,” Oshitari retorted.
Atobe’s face scrunched up in distaste at that.
“At least Shinjoh is quiet some of the night!” Wakato insisted.
“At least Ibu doesn’t stare at you!” Oshitari shot right back.
Atobe shook his head slowly. “Far be it for me to interfere,” he said loftily, “but if your roommates are causing such problems, why don’t the two of you just room with each other?”
Wakato and Oshitari opened their mouths to object, and then quickly shut them.
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Wakato said carefully.
“Of course. It’s an excellent idea,” Atobe hummed to himself and returned to his book.
“The best part is,” Oshitari added, “that Ibu and Shinjoh will be stuck with each other.”
Wakato tried not to moan at the thought of revenge. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Let’s do it,” Oshitari agreed gleefully.
Shinjoh and Ibu were remarkably amenable to this change of affairs. Of course, ‘amenable’ meant that Shinjoh didn’t even pause in doing sit-ups when informed of this, and Oshitari and Wakato were able to easily shove Ibu and all his belongings into Shinjoh’s room, all while Ibu mumbled to himself about something involving Stockholm Syndrome.
“There,” Wakato breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed on Ibu’s old bed. “It’s done.”
Oshitari claimed the same bed he’d used the first night. “Peace and quiet.”
“At last!”
“Ah…”
In the distance, a cricket could be heard chirping.
“So…” Oshitari drawled warily after the requisite awkward silence had passed.
“Yeah?” Wakato asked curiously.
“You don’t mind if I practice, right? I won’t play until three in the morning, or do crunches while doing it, or anything like that.”
“Eh.” Wakato waved a hand in the air. “Go ahead.”
Relieved, Oshitari pulled his violin out from under the bed and began tuning. Wakato pulled out a perfectly ordinary tennis magazine and started reading it on his bed. Oshitari ran through a few scales, then pulled out the latest concerto his instructor had given him. The fingering was an absolute bitch, and he worked through it slowly and methodically, over and over again, training his fingers in the correct motions.
“You know,” Wakato watched him from the bed, worrying his lip between his teeth as Oshitari finally set the violin down to make several notations on his sheet music, “I think I’ve heard that piece before. Can I?”
Oshitari blinked as Wakato picked up his violin and bow and then, with a flourish, copied Oshitari’s fingering exactly, without the slightest slip-up.
When Wakato was done, he grinned.
Oshitari gaped, snatched his violin away, and stormed right back out to the common room.
Atobe looked up from his poetry book in surprise when Oshitari flopped down on the moldy old couch with the weird stain in a miserable sulk.
“Do I even want to know?” Atobe asked wearily.
“This is all your fault!” Oshitari accused.
“Things with Wakato didn’t work out, I take it?”
“He’s worse than both Ibu and Shinjoh combined,” Oshitari insisted vehemently.
Atobe wisely decided to leave him to his teenage angst.
***
The High Life: A Midnight Rendezvous
“This is not a good idea,” Kachiro worried and ducked behind a bush.
“We’re going to get in trouble!” Katsuo agreed and crouched down behind him.
“Shh!” Horio turned back to glare at them. “Do you want Atobe to catch us?”
That shut Kachiro and Katsuo up right away. The prospect of having to face Atobe alone, at night, in the middle of the campgrounds, was daunting, to say the least.
“Maybe we should get Sakuno?” Katsuo suggested hesitantly.
“We don’t need her,” Horio insisted, then dashed ahead, parallel to the path, to hide behind another bush.
“You’re just jealous ‘cause she was brave enough to actually talk to him,” Kachiro taunted Horio.
“Hey!” Horio turned around to glare at him.
“Shh!” Katsuo and Kachiro squeaked in unison, covering Horio’s mouth and tackling him to the ground.
Up ahead, illuminated under one of the streetlights that lit up the path, Atobe froze and turned around suspiciously.
Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro shivered in the bushes.
Apparently, they’d hidden themselves well enough, because Atobe turned and continued walking down the path. His followers snuck along behind him.
The path led past the tennis courts, around the center of the campgrounds, and ended up passing beside the coaches’ building. They were on that leg of the path now, and that seemed to be Atobe’s destination. Atobe reached the curve in the path up ahead, and suddenly he picked up his pace, although he never broke his casual stride.
Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro dove into the bushes just at the bend of the path and peered out.
There, leaning against one of the lampposts and gazing up at the stars overhead, stood Tezuka.
The children’s eyes widened.
“I knew he was up to no good!” Kachiro insisted.
“We have to save the captain!” Horio said illogically.
None of them dared to step out of the bushes, of course.
Tezuka looked in Atobe’s direction, and the children realized - with surprise - that Tezuka must have been waiting for him. The two approached each other and half circled around once they were close, almost like some kind of dance. When Tezuka’s face was toward them, the onlookers could see that he had a faint smile on his lips.
Katsuo scratched his head. “Aren’t they supposed to be archenemies?”
“They hate each other!” Kachiro said. “You saw them play at Regionals!”
Horio frowned. “We have to get closer. I want to hear what they’re saying.” He inched on his belly through the underbrush.
Katsuo and Kachiro exchanged a nervous look. However, they rationalized that, even if they got caught now, Tezuka could save them from Atobe’s wrath, so they followed after Horio.
“-may have gotten carried away,” were Atobe’s first words they could hear as they all hid behind a broad tree trunk. Luckily, they were in the shadows, and Atobe and Tezuka were right in the light, so they were safely out of view.
“You think?” Tezuka asked dryly.
Atobe waved a hand airily. “He just gets on my nerves. No sense of humor whatsoever.”
Tezuka snorted. “And here I thought you just didn’t like to share.”
Atobe grinned at him. “That, too.” He checked his watch. “In any case, he’s late. Let’s get going.”
Tezuka crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow.
Atobe leaned in. “Come on. Won’t it be more fun without him, anyway?” His hand rested on Tezuka’s elbow persuasively.
Tezuka’s lips quirked, and he nodded in the direction Atobe had come from. “Here he is now.”
Atobe sighed and looked. Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo looked, too. There, jogging down the path was…
“That’s Rikkaidai’s Sanada!” Kachiro cheeped.
“He’s Seigaku’s sworn enemy!” Katsuo gasped.
“Oh no, the captain is outnumbered!” Horio flailed.
“Leave it to you to turn everything into training,” Atobe commented wryly when Sanada approached.
Sanada glared at him. “I had to shake Renji. And Inui. …And Mizuki.”
Tezuka’s shoulders shook slightly like he was trying not to laugh. Atobe, whose hand was still on Tezuka’s arm, offered him a lazy smile.
“Let’s go,” Tezuka decided and slipped out of Atobe’s grasp.
The three of them walked side-by-side, completely companionably, along the path toward the coaches’ building. Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro blinked at each other in disbelief.
“Something very weird is going on,” Kachiro said nervously.
“Aren’t they supposed to be fighting?” Katsuo agreed.
“I’ve got it!” Horio concluded, slamming his fist into his palm. He winced slightly at the force of the impact. “The captain’s been brainwashed!”
“Ooh!” Kachiro and Katsuo breathed in unison.
“We have to save him!” Horio concluded and began to take off after them, still keeping to the shadows, of course.
Just then, Atobe’s hand reached out to grab Tezuka’s shoulder - the same shoulder he’d injured in Regionals.
“Hurry!” Katsuo exclaimed.
Tezuka stopped and turned to look at Atobe. A second later, Sanada stopped as well.
“I forgot to mention,” Atobe said with a resigned sigh, “the peanut gallery has been following me all the way from the dorms.”
Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo all came to a sudden halt, collided with each other, and dove desperately for the bushes.
Tezuka and Sanada looked over Atobe’s shoulders right at them.
“Do you think they can see us?” Kachiro whispered.
“I think the bush is moving!” Katsuo worried.
“Be quiet!” Horio hissed.
“Ah,” Tezuka said calmly. “You can come out now,” he called out.
Kachiro, Katsuo, and Horio exchanged a worried look.
“Come out right now, slackers!” Sanada ordered in a tone that was almost a growl.
Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo yelped and leapt out of the bush.
Tezuka sighed wearily. “You’re not supposed to be out after dark.”
The children gulped, and then Kachiro pointed out, “Well, they’re not supposed to be out after dark, either.” He pointed to Atobe and Sanada.
Tezuka, Atobe, and Sanada exchanged a look.
“Hmm,” Tezuka said. “Perhaps you’d better come with us.”
It was Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo’s turn to exchange a look at that. Volumes were spoken between them in that moment concerning the ‘Tezuka: Brainwashed or No?’ debate. Eventually Horio nodded at their mutual conclusion that Tezuka seemed normal (except for the not kicking Atobe and Sanada’s asses part), and they scuttled nervously over to where the older boys were waiting.
Atobe let out a little “humph” but didn’t say anything more.
Tezuka led them all back to the building where the coaches were housed, and they took the elevator up to the third floor. There, Tezuka produced a key and opened the door to an oversized suite.
“So unfair,” Atobe complained and immediately stalked through to the bedroom so that he could sprawl over Tezuka’s king-sized mattress. “Do you have any idea the accommodations they’re keeping us in?”
Sanada scowled at him. “Pampering breeds laziness,” he accused.
Atobe scowled back up at him and stretched luxuriously over Tezuka’s bed. “Fine, then. You can sit on the floor.”
Tezuka nudged Atobe to one side and sat on the edge of the bed. “Everyone, make yourselves comfortable,” he offered, looking pointedly at Atobe, who hadn’t even waited for the offer to be made.
Sanada sat in the armchair beside the bed. Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro, who had no idea what was going on, all huddled together on the floor.
Tezuka flicked on the TV. Tennis lit up the screen. Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro’s eyes widened.
Sanada let out a sound a little like a moan. “This is the preliminaries. Of this year’s Wimbledon?”
“The coaches’ library is very completely stocked,” Tezuka concluded smugly and leaned back against the headboard.
“Mmm, tennis,” Atobe sighed longingly beside him, still splayed out decadently.
Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo perked up at this. They had had no clue what all the conspiring was about, but this was better than their wildest dreams. “We need popcorn,” Katsuo concluded.
“There’s a kitchenette, but you’re making it yourself,” Tezuka informed him.
“And we’re not pausing it,” Atobe added.
Katsuo padded off to do so. However, while he was out there, there was a knock on the door. He bit his lip, but the knocking continued, so eventually he had to open it.
Fuji smiled back at him. “Hi, can I come in?”
Katsuo had been on the team long enough to know that you just didn’t cross Fuji. He opened the door. “Did the captain invite you, too?”
“No,” Fuji said brightly. “Sanada was just so distracted shaking Yanagi, Inui, and Mizuki that he forgot to shake me. I brought Taka, Yuta, and Saeki.”
They all trailed in behind him, Saeki bringing up the rear. “I brought beer,” Saeki provided helpfully.
Katsuo waved in the general direction of Tezuka’s bedroom. He definitely wasn’t dealing with this.
However, no sooner had he closed the door when there was a second knock. Katsuo opened the door again.
Mizuki held up a small beeping device. “I put a homing transmitter on Fuji.”
Inui held up a second device. “Except Fuji promptly removed it and attached it to a stray cat.”
“So we attached a homing device on Yuta,” Yanagi concluded.
Kaidoh stood at the back of the group, looking vaguely embarrassed.
Katsuo just sighed and let them all in. He waited and glanced at his watch. Approximately thirty-two seconds later, there was another knock.
“Why were you following Atobe and, more importantly,” Oshitari demanded, “why was Atobe sneaking out in the middle of the night?”
He had Kabaji on his heels, who it seemed had been trying to hold him back. Amane was behind them, then Ibu, Wakato, and two very sleepy-looking Kisarazu twins.
“There’s tennis,” Katsuo let them in. That perked the Kisarazu twins right up. “Where’s Shinjoh?”
“Oh,” Ibu explained, “he requires exactly 8.23 hours of uninterrupted sleep to operate at peak efficiency.”
Everyone else blinked at him like he was crazy, but they all came in anyway.
Katsuo just left the door open this time.
“Oi, oi!” Kikumaru bounded in with Momoshiro. Oishi and Echizen were on their tails. “We heard there was a party!”
Katsuo scratched his head. “From whom?”
“We figured, if there wasn’t one, we’d impose one on this sweet suite Tezuka has,” Momoshiro added.
In the distance, Katsuo heard someone smack Amane. “It wasn’t me this time!” Amane complained.
Katsuo let them all in, too. ‘Them all’ included Sengoku and Kamio, and Kajimoto and Kirihara, too, it turned out.
“The suite is big enough that we can keep them in separate rooms,” Sengoku informed Katsuo.
“It’s the only way,” Kajimoto agreed.
Katsuo shut the door behind them.
Back in what was now the party room, Tezuka sighed wearily. “This is much louder than the night I envisioned.”
Atobe smirked at him and scooched closer to let Oshitari and Kabaji have seats on the bed, as well. “You should have known. Everywhere I go, a party follows.”
Tezuka snorted.
“Lighten up,” Atobe assured him. “Who are you going to get in trouble with?”
In fact, both Sakaki and Hanamura could hear the noise (it was impossible to miss), and they both banged on each other’s walls to turn the damn TV down, before swearing under their breath at each other and pulling out the earplugs.
***
The Five Trials of Sanada Genichiro: Letters from Home
The first weekend of the invitational camp, the initial mail from home arrived. Sanada scoffed at the notion. First of all, even his parents weren’t so old-fashioned that they didn’t know how to send e-mail. Second, they were all in junior high now. Who wanted to read letters from home, anyway?
Fuji and Yuta swarmed around their letter, though, elbowing each other and reading aloud at parts. Apparently, they both found their older sister to be absolutely hilarious.
Kawamura opened his letter and grinned broadly at what was inside.
Kaidoh curled up in a corner with his, and his cheeks flushed and a stupid dopey grin kept sneaking onto his face when he forgot to frown.
Saeki regaled the Fuji brothers with tales from Chiba, after they were done with their own letter.
Yanagi and Inui didn’t get any letters, but apparently one of them had ordered a book on statistical analysis, and that had arrived. They dove upon it like starving men upon the last, succulent piece of sushi. Sanada figured that neither of them would emerge for the next ten or so hours.
Even Mizuki received a brief letter, and the absolute shock on his face was pretty funny, Sanada had to admit.
But, no, Sanada’s family knew better. He was an adult now, and he didn’t need…
“There’s one for Sanada Genichiro, too,” Sakaki commented blandly and offered it to Sanada.
Sanada absolutely did not snatch it up. That would have been undignified. He also didn’t wait until no one was looking and sneak back to his room to read it. It was merely noisy in the common room, and Sanada liked to concentrate on such matters.
As soon as he was alone and the door to his room was shut behind him, he ripped into the envelope with zeal. The return address wasn’t his parents’. He knew whose it was, though, because he was such an attentive vice-captain and he kept himself informed on these topics.
Inside was a card with an Impressionist painting on the cover. Sanada supposed it was a nice one, although he didn’t really know much about these things. But if Yukimura had sent it, it must be nice, because Yukimura had wonderful taste.
On the inside of the card was a long, flowing letter in Yukimura’s graceful handwriting. Sanada curled up eagerly on the bed to read it:
My dearest Genichiro,
Things are going well here. Yesterday, I had my last physical rehab session. I’ve been given a clean bill of health, and I’ve already slaughtered all the regulars back at Rikkaidai 6-0. :D The training regimen for Nationals is going well, although I’m disappointed to see that our doubles teams turned into dreadful slackers while I was out ill. I’m making them run five times as many laps. They keep complaining that I’m killing them, but if they’re alive enough to complain, they’re alive enough to run more laps, right?
We all miss you very much. I can hardly wait for you to come back, so that I can slaughter you 6-0, too. It’ll be just like old times! :D It’s just not the same without you here to bitch-smack all the lazy asses. I tried to teach Jackal how to bitch-smack everyone for me, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Plus, he needs to bitch-smacked half the time, too. :(
When you come back, let’s make everyone run a hundred laps, okay? And then you can bitch-smack everyone who complains, especially those lazy doubles players, whee! :D It’ll be so much fun! Here, I drew you a picture, so you can come back home sooner:
Don’t slack off, or maybe I’ll have to bitch-smack you, hmm? Should I try that some time, on your perfect, taut ass? Do you have a hankerin’ for some spankerin’, Genichiro? We’ll have such a wonderful time together! :D And then, when we’re done with high school, we can take over the world together, and we’ll make everyone run laps, and you can punch all the slow people in the stomach! Yay!
See you soon, my Genichi-wichi snuggle-puss vice-captain!
XOXO
♥♥♥
Seiichi
Sanada blinked at the letter, read it over carefully once more, and then blinked again.
“Ah… Ahem?”
Sanada looked up in surprise and blushed when he saw that Yanagi was standing behind him, reading over his shoulder. “Ah! What?” Sanada scrambled to hide the letter.
“Well…” Yanagi began carefully. “I was going to inform you of an interesting new statistical model I’ve created for determining our line-up at Nationals.”
“Ah, good, good,” Sanada breathed.
“But now I feel compelled to inform you… You do realize that letter is a fake, correct?”
Sanada scowled up at him. “Of course, I do!” he insisted. “Yukimura is a much better artist than that.”
“Oh. Carry on, then,” Yanagi looked mildly disturbed that that was what Sanada found most wrong about the letter.
“It’s Nioh, no doubt,” Sanada grumbled.
“No doubt,” Yanagi agreed.
“Is it possible to assign a thousand laps?” Sanada wondered rhetorically.
“If it is possible, I’m sure you’ll think of a way.” Yanagi began backing slowly out of the room.
“Humph,” Sanada agreed and tossed Nioh’s forgery aside.
Yanagi slipped back out.
…And as soon as the door was shut, Sanada leapt back for the letter and curled up with it under the blankets once more.
“Some day,” he whispered to the card and stroked the likeness of Yukimura’s visage.
Yukimura smiled back up at him in promise. The blood gleamed in the light from the lamp. Not that Sanada would ever admit his secret fantasy to another living soul.
Ph34r my 1337 drawring skillz! :P As always, comments are most appreciated.
Chapter Four
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: All-Cast Ensemble, mostly gen with a few slashy overtones.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,418, for this chapter.
Spoilers/Warnings: Boys in dorms. Lots of them. No spoilers unless the Selection Camp arc from the anime still counts. Special chapter warning: I try to draw in this one. It is not pretty! Now you all know why I'm not a fanartist.
Summary: Behind the scenes in all the dorms of the Junior Invitational Selection Camp.
Notes: See Chapter 1.
Notes 2: Written for writing_fest. The scenes in this chapter use the prompts: 'Friday the 13th', 'racing back home', 'violins', 'a man standing alone under a streetlight in the middle of the night', and 'Hallmark card'.
Outtakes from the Junior Invitational Selection Camp
by Kantayra
Chapter Three
***
The Legend of Sakuno the Brave: Bad Luck
“We’re all going to die!” Horio announced first thing that morning while they were cleaning up.
“Huh? What?” Kachiro looked around nervously in case Atobe had come back, now that Sakuno wasn’t there to save them.
“What are you talking about?” Katsuo eyed Horio suspiciously.
“Don’t you know anything?” Horio insisted. “It’s Friday the thirteenth!”
“So?” Dan blinked at him.
“So it’s bad luck!” Horio informed them all. “Today, the fates are turned against us all.”
“Really?” Katsuo scratched his head. “Every single person on the planet simultaneously has bad luck?”
“That doesn’t seem likely,” Kachiro agreed.
“Wouldn’t all the hospitals be overcrowded, then?” Dan said. “And it would be on the news, and-”
“It’s bad luck,” Horio repeated. “You want to know what happened to me last Friday the thirteenth?”
“What?” Dan asked curiously.
“Tell us!” Katsuo agreed.
Horio frowned down at the garbage bag before him in distaste. “Help me carry this out, and I will.”
Katsuo, Kachiro, and Dan, who were - of course - completely oblivious to all forms of deceit, agreed immediately. The three of them jostled along the overstuffed garbage bags, while Horio led the way completely unencumbered. It was a great thing to be the supervisor.
“Now, tell us,” Kachiro demanded as he lugged his bag down the back stairs.
“So I woke up last Friday the thirteenth, and I foolishly didn’t even know what day it was,” Horio began. “I got out of bed and, first thing, stubbed my toe on the doorframe.”
“That’s not so bad,” Katsuo said skeptically.
“I’m just beginning!” Horio insisted. “So, after that, I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet.”
Kachiro snickered.
Horio scowled at him. “Then I went downstairs to breakfast, but my dad had to go into work early, and my mom had to rush over to my aunt’s to help with the baby, so she left me a note to make breakfast for myself. So I had cold rice cakes.”
“Bummer,” Kachiro agreed.
Dan nodded vigorously.
“Then, there was a pop quiz in math class that day, and I forgot to do the homework in English,” Horio rattled on. “I forgot to bring my lunch, and everything was gone in the lunch line by the time I got there.”
“Isn’t that practically every day for you?” Katsuo pointed out.
Horio glared at him. “Finally, one of the upperclassman knocked his bag into me, and I fell down the stairs. It was a cursed day!” Horio insisted.
“It does seem unlikely that all of that could happen on a normal day,” Dan said thoughtfully.
“But it doesn’t mean anyone’s going to die,” Kachiro pointed out. Then, he tripped over an exposed root and fell face first into the garbage he was carrying. He got back up with a sputter, swatting at the potato peels that were all over his face.
Katsuo’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, it’s true!”
“Save me, Akutsu-senpai!” Dan squeaked.
They all gave him very odd looks.
“So now you know.” Horio waggled his finger at them authoritatively. “You have to be extra on-guard all day. I’m sure if Captain Tezuka were here, he’d tell us all.”
“Doesn’t he say that every day?” Katsuo scratched his head.
Horio swatted at him for good measure. “Come on, guys. Finish taking the trash out,” he ordered.
Kachiro and Katsuo blinked, just now realizing how Horio had tricked them into doing all the work. Dan continued on, completely oblivious. However, when he turned the corner leading to where the garbage pick-up was, he froze.
“Uh… Guys?” he said nervously. “I-I think we have a problem.”
Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo rounded the corner, stopped, and stared.
“Uh…” Katsuo said nervously.
“No way!” Kachiro gasped.
“See?” Horio proclaimed. “It’s the Friday-the-thirteenth curse!”
The four boys looked in dismay at the three-story ladder the maintenance crew had set up, so that the only way to the garbage bins was to walk underneath it. Atop the gate outside the bins, sat a black cat, contentedly licking its fur. As the four of them gaped, an owl swooped by in broad daylight.
“I-I’m not going in there!” Kachiro exclaimed.
“Me, neither!” Katsuo agreed.
“Nuh-uh,” Dan shook his head.
“You do it.” They all turned to Horio at once.
“W-What?” Horio sputtered. “We had a deal! You guys take out the trash, and I tell you all about Friday the thirteenth.”
“What’s the point of telling us about bad luck, just to force more bad luck on us?” Kachiro demanded.
“It’s your turn today, anyway,” Katsuo insisted.
Dan just shivered.
Horio gulped.
“What, are you scared?” Kachiro demanded.
“Ha!” Horio laughed. “Me, scared? Never! I’m just…”
“Scared,” Katsuo teased.
“Cautious,” Horio insisted. “Plus, there’s no reason I should put myself in danger unnecessarily.”
“How else are you going to take out the trash, then?” Katsuo demanded.
“Well,” Horio considered. “It’s not that far. We could just stand here and sort of lob the garbage bags in the direction of the bin.”
Kachiro considered this. It seemed feasible. Except… “Someone would have to open the gate first.”
“The gate that’s right under a ladder,” Katsuo pointed out.
“With a black cat on it!” Dan cheeped.
“On Friday the thirteenth!” Horio wailed.
At that moment, Sakuno decided to skip up to them. “Hey, guys,” she said shyly. “Tomo wondered where you were. She needs help setting up the cafeteria.”
Three frightened looks and one scheming look were leveled at her.
“Ah, hey, Sakuno.” Horio scratched his head in a way that he hoped looked casual and innocent. “Can you open that gate for us? We need to take out the trash.”
Sakuno blinked at him. That didn’t really make sense, since he could just open the gate on his own. On the other hand, there was no harm in it, so she just nodded and headed off to do so.
The four boys breathed in awe as she walked right under the ladder, scratched the cat under the chin until it purred and hopped away, and opened the gate wide.
“Is that it?” Sakuno asked curiously when she returned to them.
“Y-Y-Yes,” Horio stuttered. “That’s it.”
Sakuno beamed at them. “I’ll see you guys at breakfast, then.” She skipped right off.
They all watched her go, gaping.
“Sakuno…” Kachiro breathed.
“So brave!” Katsuo gasped.
“Almost as strong as Akutsu-senpai!” Dan exclaimed.
Horio snorted. “Whatever. Now, we have to toss these bags into the trash from here, without getting any bad luck on us. Drat, I should’ve gotten Sakuno to do it…”
The others nodded very seriously. Clearly, even the worst luck was no match for Sakuno the Brave.
***
The Kirihara/Kamio Wars: The Usual Drill
“I’ll show you your rhythm!” Kirihara screeched and tackled Kamio to the ground.
Momoshiro and Echizen didn’t even blink as they each moved to the side of the path and continued running right on by the dogfight.
“At this rate,” Momoshiro said thoughtfully, “we might even win.”
Echizen just grunted and picked up the pace.
“You’re such a psycho!” Kamio snarled and shoved Kirihara’s face into the mud.
“Oi, oi!” Kikumaru barely leapt over their heads in time as their struggle put them directly in his path.
“Be careful,” Oishi worried. “Someone could get hurt.” But he wasn’t giving up his place in the race, either, so he continued running past them.
“Die, die, die!” Kirihara snarled and tried to punch Kamio in the face. Kamio ducked just in time, and Kirihara’s hand ended up slipping in the mud instead. They both fell over again.
“Uh… Should we…?” Sengoku asked curiously as he raced past them.
“I’ve had enough of breaking those two up,” Kajimoto hummed to himself over the beat coming from his iPod. “Let them sort themselves out for once.”
Sengoku considered this for a second, but he’d already passed them by, so it really was too late. Plus, hell like he was going to risk coming in last.
“You’re just mad because you were too slow!” Kamio taunted, sputtering mud.
“I was fast enough to catch you, wasn’t I?” Kirihara sputtered back.
Shishido and Ohtori darted around them where they were sitting in the middle of a muddy puddle right in the center of the path, throwing dirt clods at each other and screaming.
“I really don’t look forward to next season,” Ohtori sighed wearily to himself.
Shishido snorted. “Those two as captains?”
Ohtori sighed again. “Worse: What if I have to play singles?” He shuddered.
Shishido snorted again. “It’s only one year.”
“One year with those two as captains,” Ohtori corrected.
Shishido shuddered this time. “You have my deepest condolences.”
However, then they spotted Oishi and Kikumaru up ahead, who had just been passed by Sengoku and Kajimoto.
“We can take them,” Shishido grinned at Ohtori.
A hint of competitive light gleamed in Ohtori’s eyes. “We so can.”
They dashed off until they were in a dead heat with the Seigaku pair. Of course, Oishi and Kikumaru refused to take that challenge lying down, so soon all four of them had caught up to Echizen and Momoshiro, who had also been passed by Sengoku and Kajimoto.
“Bad. Pacing!” Momoshiro gasped as Shishido passed right by him.
Next to him, Echizen wheezed his way up the hill.
“Oi, oi!” Kikumaru cheered them on. “Only one more mile!”
Momoshiro and Echizen groaned in unison, and Shishido gave Kikumaru an annoyed look.
Off in the distance, the sounds of a catfight could be heard.
As the finish line approached, the race heated up. Coach Ryuzaki came into view in the distance, a stopwatch in hand. It was enough to give nearly everyone a second wind.
“They’re catching up to us!” Kajimoto said nervously.
“Hurry up, then!” Sengoku glanced behind him. Unfortunately, he lost his footing and stumbled. This tugged on the rope that bound him to Kajimoto, and they both tumbled. By the time they got back up, the Shishido/Ohtori, Oishi/Kikumaru, and Momoshiro/Echizen pairs had all passed them.
It turned into a dead heat between Shishido/Ohtori and Oishi/Kikumaru. Everyone was so exhausted by this point that they were tripping each other up, except for those who were scarily psychic doubles pairs.
However, just as they reached the final dash for the finish line, the screams suddenly sounded a lot closer.
“Get back here, you jerk!” Kamio screamed.
Kirihara raced forward, eyes wide and terrified. Somehow, Kamio managed to stay right on his tail without tugging on the muddy rope that bound them together.
“And you call me the psycho?” Kirihara shouted back over his shoulder.
Everyone gaped in disbelief as they dashed right by, at well-nigh superhuman speed, and left everyone else in the dust.
“Shit!” Kajimoto and Sengoku swore and pushed themselves to the limit to try to pass Momoshiro and Echizen. In the end, they were too late, though.
“Not bad times,” Ryuzaki commented calmly, checking her stop watch, as all the pairs - except Kirihara and Kamio who were still chasing each other around the side of the building - collapsed to the ground just past the finish line. “Sengoku and Kajimoto, you came in last, so you’ve got clean-up duties tonight.”
Kajimoto and Sengoku let out groans in unison from the ground.
“And Kirihara and Kamio win game room privileges for the night,” Ryuzaki concluded. “You all could learn a lot from them about teamwork.”
“Bwuh?” Kikumaru blinked.
Shishido glared.
With a self-satisfied smile, Ryuzaki headed back to the coaches’ lounge. “Dismissed for today.”
“She’s evil,” Momoshiro gasped. “She was mocking us!”
Echizen nodded weakly in agreement.
“I can’t believe we lost to them,” Ohtori worried his lip between his teeth. “Shishido?”
Shishido just grunted.
Kajimoto and Sengoku just glared at each other.
“‘Put Kamio and Kirihara together’,” Kajimoto mock-imitated Sengoku’s suggestion from earlier. “‘That way at least we can’t lose.’”
Sengoku hung his head in shame. Everyone else did, too. After all, there were few things more depressing in the world than discovering that Kirihara and Kamio accidentally had better teamwork. Especially when shouts from another fight breaking out could be heard all the way from A-Court.
***
Do the Roommate Shuffle: Virtuoso
“I get the common-room sofa tonight,” Wakato announced. “I called it. Just so you know.”
“I got here first,” Oshitari retorted. “It’s mine.”
Atobe blinked and looked up from the very fine book of German poetry in his lap. “Are you two honestly fighting over which of you gets to sleep on that moldy old couch with the weird stain?”
Wakato and Oshitari turned to glare at him in unison. “Yes!” they insisted.
Atobe blinked some more.
“Do you have any idea how much Ibu talks?” Wakato ranted. “He never shuts up!”
“At least he’s not moaning out perverted fantasies about his coach,” Oshitari retorted.
Atobe’s face scrunched up in distaste at that.
“At least Shinjoh is quiet some of the night!” Wakato insisted.
“At least Ibu doesn’t stare at you!” Oshitari shot right back.
Atobe shook his head slowly. “Far be it for me to interfere,” he said loftily, “but if your roommates are causing such problems, why don’t the two of you just room with each other?”
Wakato and Oshitari opened their mouths to object, and then quickly shut them.
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Wakato said carefully.
“Of course. It’s an excellent idea,” Atobe hummed to himself and returned to his book.
“The best part is,” Oshitari added, “that Ibu and Shinjoh will be stuck with each other.”
Wakato tried not to moan at the thought of revenge. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Let’s do it,” Oshitari agreed gleefully.
Shinjoh and Ibu were remarkably amenable to this change of affairs. Of course, ‘amenable’ meant that Shinjoh didn’t even pause in doing sit-ups when informed of this, and Oshitari and Wakato were able to easily shove Ibu and all his belongings into Shinjoh’s room, all while Ibu mumbled to himself about something involving Stockholm Syndrome.
“There,” Wakato breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed on Ibu’s old bed. “It’s done.”
Oshitari claimed the same bed he’d used the first night. “Peace and quiet.”
“At last!”
“Ah…”
In the distance, a cricket could be heard chirping.
“So…” Oshitari drawled warily after the requisite awkward silence had passed.
“Yeah?” Wakato asked curiously.
“You don’t mind if I practice, right? I won’t play until three in the morning, or do crunches while doing it, or anything like that.”
“Eh.” Wakato waved a hand in the air. “Go ahead.”
Relieved, Oshitari pulled his violin out from under the bed and began tuning. Wakato pulled out a perfectly ordinary tennis magazine and started reading it on his bed. Oshitari ran through a few scales, then pulled out the latest concerto his instructor had given him. The fingering was an absolute bitch, and he worked through it slowly and methodically, over and over again, training his fingers in the correct motions.
“You know,” Wakato watched him from the bed, worrying his lip between his teeth as Oshitari finally set the violin down to make several notations on his sheet music, “I think I’ve heard that piece before. Can I?”
Oshitari blinked as Wakato picked up his violin and bow and then, with a flourish, copied Oshitari’s fingering exactly, without the slightest slip-up.
When Wakato was done, he grinned.
Oshitari gaped, snatched his violin away, and stormed right back out to the common room.
Atobe looked up from his poetry book in surprise when Oshitari flopped down on the moldy old couch with the weird stain in a miserable sulk.
“Do I even want to know?” Atobe asked wearily.
“This is all your fault!” Oshitari accused.
“Things with Wakato didn’t work out, I take it?”
“He’s worse than both Ibu and Shinjoh combined,” Oshitari insisted vehemently.
Atobe wisely decided to leave him to his teenage angst.
***
The High Life: A Midnight Rendezvous
“This is not a good idea,” Kachiro worried and ducked behind a bush.
“We’re going to get in trouble!” Katsuo agreed and crouched down behind him.
“Shh!” Horio turned back to glare at them. “Do you want Atobe to catch us?”
That shut Kachiro and Katsuo up right away. The prospect of having to face Atobe alone, at night, in the middle of the campgrounds, was daunting, to say the least.
“Maybe we should get Sakuno?” Katsuo suggested hesitantly.
“We don’t need her,” Horio insisted, then dashed ahead, parallel to the path, to hide behind another bush.
“You’re just jealous ‘cause she was brave enough to actually talk to him,” Kachiro taunted Horio.
“Hey!” Horio turned around to glare at him.
“Shh!” Katsuo and Kachiro squeaked in unison, covering Horio’s mouth and tackling him to the ground.
Up ahead, illuminated under one of the streetlights that lit up the path, Atobe froze and turned around suspiciously.
Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro shivered in the bushes.
Apparently, they’d hidden themselves well enough, because Atobe turned and continued walking down the path. His followers snuck along behind him.
The path led past the tennis courts, around the center of the campgrounds, and ended up passing beside the coaches’ building. They were on that leg of the path now, and that seemed to be Atobe’s destination. Atobe reached the curve in the path up ahead, and suddenly he picked up his pace, although he never broke his casual stride.
Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro dove into the bushes just at the bend of the path and peered out.
There, leaning against one of the lampposts and gazing up at the stars overhead, stood Tezuka.
The children’s eyes widened.
“I knew he was up to no good!” Kachiro insisted.
“We have to save the captain!” Horio said illogically.
None of them dared to step out of the bushes, of course.
Tezuka looked in Atobe’s direction, and the children realized - with surprise - that Tezuka must have been waiting for him. The two approached each other and half circled around once they were close, almost like some kind of dance. When Tezuka’s face was toward them, the onlookers could see that he had a faint smile on his lips.
Katsuo scratched his head. “Aren’t they supposed to be archenemies?”
“They hate each other!” Kachiro said. “You saw them play at Regionals!”
Horio frowned. “We have to get closer. I want to hear what they’re saying.” He inched on his belly through the underbrush.
Katsuo and Kachiro exchanged a nervous look. However, they rationalized that, even if they got caught now, Tezuka could save them from Atobe’s wrath, so they followed after Horio.
“-may have gotten carried away,” were Atobe’s first words they could hear as they all hid behind a broad tree trunk. Luckily, they were in the shadows, and Atobe and Tezuka were right in the light, so they were safely out of view.
“You think?” Tezuka asked dryly.
Atobe waved a hand airily. “He just gets on my nerves. No sense of humor whatsoever.”
Tezuka snorted. “And here I thought you just didn’t like to share.”
Atobe grinned at him. “That, too.” He checked his watch. “In any case, he’s late. Let’s get going.”
Tezuka crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow.
Atobe leaned in. “Come on. Won’t it be more fun without him, anyway?” His hand rested on Tezuka’s elbow persuasively.
Tezuka’s lips quirked, and he nodded in the direction Atobe had come from. “Here he is now.”
Atobe sighed and looked. Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo looked, too. There, jogging down the path was…
“That’s Rikkaidai’s Sanada!” Kachiro cheeped.
“He’s Seigaku’s sworn enemy!” Katsuo gasped.
“Oh no, the captain is outnumbered!” Horio flailed.
“Leave it to you to turn everything into training,” Atobe commented wryly when Sanada approached.
Sanada glared at him. “I had to shake Renji. And Inui. …And Mizuki.”
Tezuka’s shoulders shook slightly like he was trying not to laugh. Atobe, whose hand was still on Tezuka’s arm, offered him a lazy smile.
“Let’s go,” Tezuka decided and slipped out of Atobe’s grasp.
The three of them walked side-by-side, completely companionably, along the path toward the coaches’ building. Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro blinked at each other in disbelief.
“Something very weird is going on,” Kachiro said nervously.
“Aren’t they supposed to be fighting?” Katsuo agreed.
“I’ve got it!” Horio concluded, slamming his fist into his palm. He winced slightly at the force of the impact. “The captain’s been brainwashed!”
“Ooh!” Kachiro and Katsuo breathed in unison.
“We have to save him!” Horio concluded and began to take off after them, still keeping to the shadows, of course.
Just then, Atobe’s hand reached out to grab Tezuka’s shoulder - the same shoulder he’d injured in Regionals.
“Hurry!” Katsuo exclaimed.
Tezuka stopped and turned to look at Atobe. A second later, Sanada stopped as well.
“I forgot to mention,” Atobe said with a resigned sigh, “the peanut gallery has been following me all the way from the dorms.”
Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo all came to a sudden halt, collided with each other, and dove desperately for the bushes.
Tezuka and Sanada looked over Atobe’s shoulders right at them.
“Do you think they can see us?” Kachiro whispered.
“I think the bush is moving!” Katsuo worried.
“Be quiet!” Horio hissed.
“Ah,” Tezuka said calmly. “You can come out now,” he called out.
Kachiro, Katsuo, and Horio exchanged a worried look.
“Come out right now, slackers!” Sanada ordered in a tone that was almost a growl.
Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo yelped and leapt out of the bush.
Tezuka sighed wearily. “You’re not supposed to be out after dark.”
The children gulped, and then Kachiro pointed out, “Well, they’re not supposed to be out after dark, either.” He pointed to Atobe and Sanada.
Tezuka, Atobe, and Sanada exchanged a look.
“Hmm,” Tezuka said. “Perhaps you’d better come with us.”
It was Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo’s turn to exchange a look at that. Volumes were spoken between them in that moment concerning the ‘Tezuka: Brainwashed or No?’ debate. Eventually Horio nodded at their mutual conclusion that Tezuka seemed normal (except for the not kicking Atobe and Sanada’s asses part), and they scuttled nervously over to where the older boys were waiting.
Atobe let out a little “humph” but didn’t say anything more.
Tezuka led them all back to the building where the coaches were housed, and they took the elevator up to the third floor. There, Tezuka produced a key and opened the door to an oversized suite.
“So unfair,” Atobe complained and immediately stalked through to the bedroom so that he could sprawl over Tezuka’s king-sized mattress. “Do you have any idea the accommodations they’re keeping us in?”
Sanada scowled at him. “Pampering breeds laziness,” he accused.
Atobe scowled back up at him and stretched luxuriously over Tezuka’s bed. “Fine, then. You can sit on the floor.”
Tezuka nudged Atobe to one side and sat on the edge of the bed. “Everyone, make yourselves comfortable,” he offered, looking pointedly at Atobe, who hadn’t even waited for the offer to be made.
Sanada sat in the armchair beside the bed. Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro, who had no idea what was going on, all huddled together on the floor.
Tezuka flicked on the TV. Tennis lit up the screen. Horio, Katsuo, and Kachiro’s eyes widened.
Sanada let out a sound a little like a moan. “This is the preliminaries. Of this year’s Wimbledon?”
“The coaches’ library is very completely stocked,” Tezuka concluded smugly and leaned back against the headboard.
“Mmm, tennis,” Atobe sighed longingly beside him, still splayed out decadently.
Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo perked up at this. They had had no clue what all the conspiring was about, but this was better than their wildest dreams. “We need popcorn,” Katsuo concluded.
“There’s a kitchenette, but you’re making it yourself,” Tezuka informed him.
“And we’re not pausing it,” Atobe added.
Katsuo padded off to do so. However, while he was out there, there was a knock on the door. He bit his lip, but the knocking continued, so eventually he had to open it.
Fuji smiled back at him. “Hi, can I come in?”
Katsuo had been on the team long enough to know that you just didn’t cross Fuji. He opened the door. “Did the captain invite you, too?”
“No,” Fuji said brightly. “Sanada was just so distracted shaking Yanagi, Inui, and Mizuki that he forgot to shake me. I brought Taka, Yuta, and Saeki.”
They all trailed in behind him, Saeki bringing up the rear. “I brought beer,” Saeki provided helpfully.
Katsuo waved in the general direction of Tezuka’s bedroom. He definitely wasn’t dealing with this.
However, no sooner had he closed the door when there was a second knock. Katsuo opened the door again.
Mizuki held up a small beeping device. “I put a homing transmitter on Fuji.”
Inui held up a second device. “Except Fuji promptly removed it and attached it to a stray cat.”
“So we attached a homing device on Yuta,” Yanagi concluded.
Kaidoh stood at the back of the group, looking vaguely embarrassed.
Katsuo just sighed and let them all in. He waited and glanced at his watch. Approximately thirty-two seconds later, there was another knock.
“Why were you following Atobe and, more importantly,” Oshitari demanded, “why was Atobe sneaking out in the middle of the night?”
He had Kabaji on his heels, who it seemed had been trying to hold him back. Amane was behind them, then Ibu, Wakato, and two very sleepy-looking Kisarazu twins.
“There’s tennis,” Katsuo let them in. That perked the Kisarazu twins right up. “Where’s Shinjoh?”
“Oh,” Ibu explained, “he requires exactly 8.23 hours of uninterrupted sleep to operate at peak efficiency.”
Everyone else blinked at him like he was crazy, but they all came in anyway.
Katsuo just left the door open this time.
“Oi, oi!” Kikumaru bounded in with Momoshiro. Oishi and Echizen were on their tails. “We heard there was a party!”
Katsuo scratched his head. “From whom?”
“We figured, if there wasn’t one, we’d impose one on this sweet suite Tezuka has,” Momoshiro added.
In the distance, Katsuo heard someone smack Amane. “It wasn’t me this time!” Amane complained.
Katsuo let them all in, too. ‘Them all’ included Sengoku and Kamio, and Kajimoto and Kirihara, too, it turned out.
“The suite is big enough that we can keep them in separate rooms,” Sengoku informed Katsuo.
“It’s the only way,” Kajimoto agreed.
Katsuo shut the door behind them.
Back in what was now the party room, Tezuka sighed wearily. “This is much louder than the night I envisioned.”
Atobe smirked at him and scooched closer to let Oshitari and Kabaji have seats on the bed, as well. “You should have known. Everywhere I go, a party follows.”
Tezuka snorted.
“Lighten up,” Atobe assured him. “Who are you going to get in trouble with?”
In fact, both Sakaki and Hanamura could hear the noise (it was impossible to miss), and they both banged on each other’s walls to turn the damn TV down, before swearing under their breath at each other and pulling out the earplugs.
***
The Five Trials of Sanada Genichiro: Letters from Home
The first weekend of the invitational camp, the initial mail from home arrived. Sanada scoffed at the notion. First of all, even his parents weren’t so old-fashioned that they didn’t know how to send e-mail. Second, they were all in junior high now. Who wanted to read letters from home, anyway?
Fuji and Yuta swarmed around their letter, though, elbowing each other and reading aloud at parts. Apparently, they both found their older sister to be absolutely hilarious.
Kawamura opened his letter and grinned broadly at what was inside.
Kaidoh curled up in a corner with his, and his cheeks flushed and a stupid dopey grin kept sneaking onto his face when he forgot to frown.
Saeki regaled the Fuji brothers with tales from Chiba, after they were done with their own letter.
Yanagi and Inui didn’t get any letters, but apparently one of them had ordered a book on statistical analysis, and that had arrived. They dove upon it like starving men upon the last, succulent piece of sushi. Sanada figured that neither of them would emerge for the next ten or so hours.
Even Mizuki received a brief letter, and the absolute shock on his face was pretty funny, Sanada had to admit.
But, no, Sanada’s family knew better. He was an adult now, and he didn’t need…
“There’s one for Sanada Genichiro, too,” Sakaki commented blandly and offered it to Sanada.
Sanada absolutely did not snatch it up. That would have been undignified. He also didn’t wait until no one was looking and sneak back to his room to read it. It was merely noisy in the common room, and Sanada liked to concentrate on such matters.
As soon as he was alone and the door to his room was shut behind him, he ripped into the envelope with zeal. The return address wasn’t his parents’. He knew whose it was, though, because he was such an attentive vice-captain and he kept himself informed on these topics.
Inside was a card with an Impressionist painting on the cover. Sanada supposed it was a nice one, although he didn’t really know much about these things. But if Yukimura had sent it, it must be nice, because Yukimura had wonderful taste.
On the inside of the card was a long, flowing letter in Yukimura’s graceful handwriting. Sanada curled up eagerly on the bed to read it:
My dearest Genichiro,
Things are going well here. Yesterday, I had my last physical rehab session. I’ve been given a clean bill of health, and I’ve already slaughtered all the regulars back at Rikkaidai 6-0. :D The training regimen for Nationals is going well, although I’m disappointed to see that our doubles teams turned into dreadful slackers while I was out ill. I’m making them run five times as many laps. They keep complaining that I’m killing them, but if they’re alive enough to complain, they’re alive enough to run more laps, right?
We all miss you very much. I can hardly wait for you to come back, so that I can slaughter you 6-0, too. It’ll be just like old times! :D It’s just not the same without you here to bitch-smack all the lazy asses. I tried to teach Jackal how to bitch-smack everyone for me, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Plus, he needs to bitch-smacked half the time, too. :(
When you come back, let’s make everyone run a hundred laps, okay? And then you can bitch-smack everyone who complains, especially those lazy doubles players, whee! :D It’ll be so much fun! Here, I drew you a picture, so you can come back home sooner:
Don’t slack off, or maybe I’ll have to bitch-smack you, hmm? Should I try that some time, on your perfect, taut ass? Do you have a hankerin’ for some spankerin’, Genichiro? We’ll have such a wonderful time together! :D And then, when we’re done with high school, we can take over the world together, and we’ll make everyone run laps, and you can punch all the slow people in the stomach! Yay!
See you soon, my Genichi-wichi snuggle-puss vice-captain!
XOXO
♥♥♥
Seiichi
Sanada blinked at the letter, read it over carefully once more, and then blinked again.
“Ah… Ahem?”
Sanada looked up in surprise and blushed when he saw that Yanagi was standing behind him, reading over his shoulder. “Ah! What?” Sanada scrambled to hide the letter.
“Well…” Yanagi began carefully. “I was going to inform you of an interesting new statistical model I’ve created for determining our line-up at Nationals.”
“Ah, good, good,” Sanada breathed.
“But now I feel compelled to inform you… You do realize that letter is a fake, correct?”
Sanada scowled up at him. “Of course, I do!” he insisted. “Yukimura is a much better artist than that.”
“Oh. Carry on, then,” Yanagi looked mildly disturbed that that was what Sanada found most wrong about the letter.
“It’s Nioh, no doubt,” Sanada grumbled.
“No doubt,” Yanagi agreed.
“Is it possible to assign a thousand laps?” Sanada wondered rhetorically.
“If it is possible, I’m sure you’ll think of a way.” Yanagi began backing slowly out of the room.
“Humph,” Sanada agreed and tossed Nioh’s forgery aside.
Yanagi slipped back out.
…And as soon as the door was shut, Sanada leapt back for the letter and curled up with it under the blankets once more.
“Some day,” he whispered to the card and stroked the likeness of Yukimura’s visage.
Yukimura smiled back up at him in promise. The blood gleamed in the light from the lamp. Not that Sanada would ever admit his secret fantasy to another living soul.
Ph34r my 1337 drawring skillz! :P As always, comments are most appreciated.
Chapter Four