Prince of Tennis Story
I Like It
Disclaimer: I don’t own Prince of Tennis, end of story.
Twelve-year-old Atobe Keigo stared hard at himself in the mirror. His hair was perfect; neatly spilt and shiny. His clothes were perfect; neatly pressed and fit all the contours of his body. His face was clean and soft. His blue eyes were trained on the spot just under his right eye.
A small black dot mocked him.
It wasn’t perfect. It made him imperfect. His mother always told him that he was perfect (the few times they see each other). Yet this dot remained there, making him imperfect.
He covered it up every morning, with this colorless crème that matches his skin, and it bothered him to do so. It was so tedious and it would only wear off when he played tennis or gym. So he started to carry it around with him, so that he could always make sure that no one ever saw this dot, this imperfection.
Keigo covered the dot with a feathery motion of his index finger. He surveyed his work and when he was satisfied (about 10 minutes later) he went to go ride his limo toward Hyotei Gauken.
Keigo wiped the sweat off of his face after tennis practice, thus rubbing the makeup off with it. Akutagawa Jiroh, a classmate of his, walked in sleepily. He sat on the bench next to Keigo and stared hard at him.
“Keigo, what’s that on your face?” He asked. Keigo regarded the boy suspiciously, and then realizing what he had said, immediately threw a hand over the blemish on his cheek. Jiroh’s eyes widened as he woke up.
“Keigo, let me see, let me see!” He bounced happily.
“No, it’s an imperfection on ore-sama’s face.” Keigo said, turning away from him. Jiroh leaned over and removed Keigo’s hand from his cheek.
“Aww, it’s so little and cute!” Jiroh exclaimed. Keigo’s eyes widened and he let his hand drop.
“What do you mean Jiroh?” He asked.
“It’s cute, it makes you look cute, and I like it!” Jiroh said happily. Keigo was at a loss for words. Jiroh skipped happily out of the club room. Keigo followed his retreating back and smiled.
Keigo stood in front of the mirror, this time at fourteen. He smiled as he looked at the black spot under his cheek. He heard the door open and saw Jiroh walk in.
“I’m glad you stopped covering that.” He said.
“Why?” Keigo asked.
“Because I would have missed it. It’s not cute anymore. It’s become sexy.” Jiroh said. Keigo looked at him suspiciously.
“What does that imply?” He asked.
“It makes you look sexy.” Jiroh said and he pulled his buchou down for a kiss.
Keigo decided that this imperfection made him perfect and he was now glad, he decided as Jiroh slipped his tounge in Keigo’s mouth, that he stopped covering it.
My muse was poking me in the eye to write this.
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KatrinaKaiba