rp log: tezuka & atobe
Rating: PG
When: May 27, evening
Where: Observation deck
Summary: Tezuka and Atobe talk.
Tezuka left the gym after an appropriate cool down period from the laps he had just ran. Atobe had suggested the observation deck, which suited him fine. He really didn’t wish to be back in his cabin until after his nightly match and subsequent conversation with Echizen. Besides, it was another nice evening out and why stay in when one could admire the infinite heavens above?
He pulled the towel down from around his neck and tried to make himself remotely presentable as he made his way up to the area. No doubt the former Hyoutei captain would already be there and as often as he had been late to dinners due to tennis, Tezuka felt that it would be nice to be a little more punctual.
In fact, on this particular evening, Tezuka was to arrive on the observational deck before Atobe. It was possible that this was due to Atobe doubting Tezuka’s ability to meet with him in a timely fashion. It was also possible that trying on eight jackets since their agreement to rendez-vous had hindered the situation. The jacket of choice, a blue-gray in a summer cotton, was of course the perfect selection for such an evening. Atobe wore it unbuttoned over a white open collared shirt; a picture of easy coolness over emotions that tangled themselves into a pig’s ear every time his eyes lit upon the figure currently standing gazing at the night sky.
“Which is it, Tezuka?” he inquired as he came to stand by the railings alongside his fellow former captain. “Legendary figures, the writings of destiny, or merely giant balls of gas burning billions of miles away?”
Tezuka brought his gaze down as Atobe spoke. “Perhaps a little of each,” he said looking over at the teen next to him. He looked quite prepared for another late dinner or a game of shuffleboard. Tezuka wasn’t sure if the latter was even offered on board. Nonetheless, he felt quite misplaced in his workout gear.
“I didn’t think I would arrive here before you,” he said lightly, looking back up at the heavens. “I probably would have had time to freshen up.”
“The boy is a misguiding influence on you,” Atobe replied, referring to his frequent (if unwarranted) comments regarding Echizen’s need to shower. “However, you hardly need to dress up for me.” He also directed his eyes skywards, contemplating the pin pricks of light as he tried to push aside the thrill that hearing Tezuka’s voice directed at him had produced. “We are rather beyond that, na?”
Ignoring Atobe’s condescending remarks toward his friend, Tezuka leaned on the railing. “You’ve been particularly accommodating to my attire,” he noted. He supposed it was due to not wanting to wait for dinner any longer than necessary. He would really need to apologize to the staff for his lateness. It was unacceptable, even if the reason was tennis and therefore, all semblance of rational thought and logic went out the window when the sport in question was involved. “In any case, I appreciate it.”
Atobe opened his mouth to speak and then, possibly for the first time, closed it. He inclined his head instead in acknowledgement of Tezuka’s gratitude before returning his eyes resolutely to the stars. This ... this feeling ... of being caught off-guard was alien to Atobe, always the master of each and every situation. Its appearance now was not appreciated. He played connect-the-dots across the inky blackness for a moment, as if the answer might literally be written for him to read.
“If the stars underwrite our future,” he said. “What is it they say for you, do you suppose?”
Tezuka contemplated the question for a long while. “Tennis,” he started. The one thing that made him feel alive. “I hope they spell out overwhelming success for me on the professional circuit.” It sounded terribly selfish, he realized after the words escaped his lips. Especially knowing the teen next to him wasn’t going to have the same journey. Truly a pity. “Do you believe they say something positive for you as well?”
Fingers tapped out a tune on the brass railing even as the mouth curled in an ironic smile. The stars undoubtedly spelled out his own success on the courts, if that had been the path he had chosen. As it was, they must surely paint a picture of unimaginable success in the business world. How could they not? Atobe’s aim was for people to stand and say that his father was a mere warm-up act to the son, the layer of foundations upon which the truly great corporate structure was built.
“Only if they state you will return.”
His own comment took him by surprise and he froze, staring straight ahead. Was this then the source of his discomfort? It was ironic indeed that he was capable of such insight into others but blind to his own emotions. Yet, surely this was quite appropriate. Tezuka had been Atobe’s rival since the start of middle school. His every defeat had been merely a necessary stepping stone to his matches against Tezuka. Of course the loss would be felt. He glanced sideways at his companion. This might, however, be construed as slightly awkward; he would not wish to dazzle Tezuka by too much of his attention.
“I will miss our matches,” he added, breezily.
Tezuka did not know how to respond to the first comment and was somewhat thankful when the second one was uttered. He stood up straighter, eyes straying from their previous focus to the tennis player next to him.
“I am not exactly sure how you meant your first statement,” he said curiously. It reminded him of conversations with Echizen and Yukimura over this very matter. Tezuka had never known Atobe to be vague. “However, we can always play a friendly match on my trips home.”
It was not enough. Blue-grey eyes met the steady brown ones before him and Atobe knew that whatever he wanted, it was not the occasional sympathy game when Tezuka happened to be in the country. “You must inform me of your schedule,” he said. “I will visit if you are training for a period. Do you still intend to locate to Germany?”
Tezuka pursed his lips. Atobe had not explained himself. “I’m leaving August first,” he said. “I located a training and rehabilitation facility near Munich that will help.” Plus, that gave him another month and a half to spend with his family and play a few more games with those, like Atobe, who would not be furthering their tennis. “However, I would not wish for you to cut into your university time to come out.”
Rehabilitation? Sharp eyes swung to Tezuka’s shoulder, “Does your arm still trouble you?” Atobe inquired. His own, no small role, in the initial destruction of Tezuka’s fitness back in middle school had never been a source of pride. At the time, he had never imagined that Tezuka would risk everything to take that match. Now that he knew him better, he expected nothing less.
At Tezuka’s suggestion that an excursion to Germany would be problematic for his education, Atobe waved an airy hand. “University terms are short,” he said. “I will do you the honour of my company.” He hesitated then, a thought occurring to him for the first time, “Unless that is not your wish?”
Tezuka followed Atobe’s gaze to his shoulder and willed himself not to bring his hand up to the joint. “It does not. Precautionary measures. I wish to be able to play at a high caliber for a long time.” He had been told to quit the moves that made his tennis what it was, but he was not going to listen. As long as he rested suitably and got therapy every so often, he would be fine. Besides, Atobe hadn’t been the only one to cause his arm damage. The senpai who started it, Sanada, other players who thought it was a weakness to exploit.
He blinked back confusion. “If you are sure that it will not interfere, then I would not be adverse to a visit. I will hope that you are still a good opponent.”
Atobe smiled; the gesture half way between his usual smirk and a more genuine expression of pleasure, “I would hardly trouble you otherwise.” Of course, Tezuka would be training full time from now on in, but Atobe was not about to hang up his racket. It would not be easy to maintain a proper training schedule with his studies, but he felt more than up to the challenge. Of course, being ridiculously rich helped, at least as far as coaching went.
“What of other plans, Tezuka?” he inquired, turning again to view the ocean. “Or does your life, like Yukimura’s, stop at the baseline?”
Tezuka didn’t really know how to answer the question. Tennis was the end-all be-all of his existence. He doesn’t remember a time before it and when he didn’t have it, there was a large void. Though, he supposed there was fishing, reading, and academic pursuits.
“I haven’t thought of other plans. Everything revolves around getting to the professional circuit.”
He turned away from Atobe and looked at the lights against the deepening blue of the night sky. “I realize there is life after I can no longer play as well as I would like, but I do not know what awaits there for me when I am done.”
"That will be a hard day, if an inevitable one," Atobe concurred. It was something even he, despite not going pro, would not be looking forward to. Impulsively, he reached over and laid one palm over one of the hands that rested on the rail. "You will find other challenges," he pointed out. "And it is not something you will face alone."
Tezuka felt Atobe’s hand before seeing it. He paused momentarily, eyes lowering slightly to take in the symbolism. He half expected Atobe to raise his arm up into the air like after their match in junior high. He didn’t know quite where to place this. Atobe was a... friend, he supposed and definitely a rival. However, this action was something else. He vaguely recalled the private detectives in the mystery novels he read on occasion doing this to the damsel-in-distress... right before he kissed her. Lifting his gaze to Atobe, he wondered if that was going to happen.
“As long as it is not an abrupt end, it will not be hard to cope with,” he said finally, shifting to free his hand. “Life itself is a challenge. Thus far, I have not faced it alone. I am sure it will continue as such.”
The empty hand slid onto the rail and tapped out a brief rhythm. The space beneath it felt oddly empty, although since Atobe had obviously meant nothing by that gesture he was not sure why this should be so.
“Undoubtedly,” he agreed easily. He was feeling warm. Shrugging off his jacket, he swung it over the bar. “We shall soon reach the furthest point from land on our cruise,” he said. “I should inform the kitchens they are to prepare desserts. We too, should dine again.”
Tezuka nodded. “It seems a bit short notice, don’t you think?” He was used the demands of ‘private dinners’ with Atobe every night, so the request was not unfamiliar to him. However, the staff already seemed to be on edge; asking them to prepare a slew of desserts on top of dinner was asking for mutiny. “The desserts, not dinner,” he clarified, just in case Atobe was unsure of his previous statement.
“They are paid,” Atobe said, dismissively. “And it is surely obvious that something of this type would be required.” The important event was that he and Tezuka would be dining; the cooks could surely manage a few hundred desserts on the side. He wondered what the effect of a chocolate model of a sea monster with a cat’s head would be. “We will play too,” he said to his companion. “There is just over a week left. I will not waste it.”
“I am still failing to see how dinner necessitates a multitude of desserts. The staff seems discontented as is. That will only add to it.” Tezuka wasn’t really that big into sweets anyway.
He turned away from the water and leaned back on the railing. “Tomorrow morning?” It was probably a given, since they played most mornings now, but he could never be too sure given Atobe’s demanding nature.
The other captain’s last comment gave him pause. Only around a week... “Only for the cruise,” he pointed out. “We will still have time to play before I leave for Germany in August.”
“They are works of art,” Atobe replied. “The finale to the presentation of dinner. Their consumable nature is merely a bonus.” He was tempted to insist they played immediately, as he had done during a previous dinner together, but decided against it. It was becoming late and for an inexplicable reason he found his mind was not on tennis. The mention of Germany only increased this feeling of restlessness. Perhaps he needed to... stand here gazing at the ocean with Tezuka forever... no, that could not be correct. Maybe a bath then. They seemed to work well for Seigaku.
“Tomorrow morning,” he agreed, straightening. “And when we return you must visit the cottage...”
Weekly. Daily. Hourly. Damn it, Tezuka should just live there.
“Regularly,” he concluded.
Cottage? Tezuka really shouldn’t be surprised by that. Atobe probably had houses and properties all over the world. “Does it have a tennis court?”
He nodded at Atobe’s last statement. “In any case, playing you a few times a week would be beneficial,” he said. Extra training was always a good thing. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.
Even though he was still unsure about the multitude of desserts -- he was going to avoid them for the most post -- Tezuka pushed off of the railing and took a few steps away. “We should go to dinner.”
Atobe raised an eyebrow, “It has six,” he replied. No tennis courts?! What sort of place did Tezuka think he would reside in? He nodded in satisfaction at Tezuka’s proposed match schedule and stepped forward, a movement that unexpectedly brought him inches away from where Tezuka was standing. For a brief moment, time froze as blue-grey eyes looked into the brown ones inches away. Then Atobe came to himself and turned, leading the way down to the dining hall without another explanation.
Six tennis courts. He wondered if there was a clay one, but before Tezuka could ask, Atobe was already walking toward the dining room. He would ask during dinner and began following the other captain.
When: May 27, evening
Where: Observation deck
Summary: Tezuka and Atobe talk.
Tezuka left the gym after an appropriate cool down period from the laps he had just ran. Atobe had suggested the observation deck, which suited him fine. He really didn’t wish to be back in his cabin until after his nightly match and subsequent conversation with Echizen. Besides, it was another nice evening out and why stay in when one could admire the infinite heavens above?
He pulled the towel down from around his neck and tried to make himself remotely presentable as he made his way up to the area. No doubt the former Hyoutei captain would already be there and as often as he had been late to dinners due to tennis, Tezuka felt that it would be nice to be a little more punctual.
In fact, on this particular evening, Tezuka was to arrive on the observational deck before Atobe. It was possible that this was due to Atobe doubting Tezuka’s ability to meet with him in a timely fashion. It was also possible that trying on eight jackets since their agreement to rendez-vous had hindered the situation. The jacket of choice, a blue-gray in a summer cotton, was of course the perfect selection for such an evening. Atobe wore it unbuttoned over a white open collared shirt; a picture of easy coolness over emotions that tangled themselves into a pig’s ear every time his eyes lit upon the figure currently standing gazing at the night sky.
“Which is it, Tezuka?” he inquired as he came to stand by the railings alongside his fellow former captain. “Legendary figures, the writings of destiny, or merely giant balls of gas burning billions of miles away?”
Tezuka brought his gaze down as Atobe spoke. “Perhaps a little of each,” he said looking over at the teen next to him. He looked quite prepared for another late dinner or a game of shuffleboard. Tezuka wasn’t sure if the latter was even offered on board. Nonetheless, he felt quite misplaced in his workout gear.
“I didn’t think I would arrive here before you,” he said lightly, looking back up at the heavens. “I probably would have had time to freshen up.”
“The boy is a misguiding influence on you,” Atobe replied, referring to his frequent (if unwarranted) comments regarding Echizen’s need to shower. “However, you hardly need to dress up for me.” He also directed his eyes skywards, contemplating the pin pricks of light as he tried to push aside the thrill that hearing Tezuka’s voice directed at him had produced. “We are rather beyond that, na?”
Ignoring Atobe’s condescending remarks toward his friend, Tezuka leaned on the railing. “You’ve been particularly accommodating to my attire,” he noted. He supposed it was due to not wanting to wait for dinner any longer than necessary. He would really need to apologize to the staff for his lateness. It was unacceptable, even if the reason was tennis and therefore, all semblance of rational thought and logic went out the window when the sport in question was involved. “In any case, I appreciate it.”
Atobe opened his mouth to speak and then, possibly for the first time, closed it. He inclined his head instead in acknowledgement of Tezuka’s gratitude before returning his eyes resolutely to the stars. This ... this feeling ... of being caught off-guard was alien to Atobe, always the master of each and every situation. Its appearance now was not appreciated. He played connect-the-dots across the inky blackness for a moment, as if the answer might literally be written for him to read.
“If the stars underwrite our future,” he said. “What is it they say for you, do you suppose?”
Tezuka contemplated the question for a long while. “Tennis,” he started. The one thing that made him feel alive. “I hope they spell out overwhelming success for me on the professional circuit.” It sounded terribly selfish, he realized after the words escaped his lips. Especially knowing the teen next to him wasn’t going to have the same journey. Truly a pity. “Do you believe they say something positive for you as well?”
Fingers tapped out a tune on the brass railing even as the mouth curled in an ironic smile. The stars undoubtedly spelled out his own success on the courts, if that had been the path he had chosen. As it was, they must surely paint a picture of unimaginable success in the business world. How could they not? Atobe’s aim was for people to stand and say that his father was a mere warm-up act to the son, the layer of foundations upon which the truly great corporate structure was built.
“Only if they state you will return.”
His own comment took him by surprise and he froze, staring straight ahead. Was this then the source of his discomfort? It was ironic indeed that he was capable of such insight into others but blind to his own emotions. Yet, surely this was quite appropriate. Tezuka had been Atobe’s rival since the start of middle school. His every defeat had been merely a necessary stepping stone to his matches against Tezuka. Of course the loss would be felt. He glanced sideways at his companion. This might, however, be construed as slightly awkward; he would not wish to dazzle Tezuka by too much of his attention.
“I will miss our matches,” he added, breezily.
Tezuka did not know how to respond to the first comment and was somewhat thankful when the second one was uttered. He stood up straighter, eyes straying from their previous focus to the tennis player next to him.
“I am not exactly sure how you meant your first statement,” he said curiously. It reminded him of conversations with Echizen and Yukimura over this very matter. Tezuka had never known Atobe to be vague. “However, we can always play a friendly match on my trips home.”
It was not enough. Blue-grey eyes met the steady brown ones before him and Atobe knew that whatever he wanted, it was not the occasional sympathy game when Tezuka happened to be in the country. “You must inform me of your schedule,” he said. “I will visit if you are training for a period. Do you still intend to locate to Germany?”
Tezuka pursed his lips. Atobe had not explained himself. “I’m leaving August first,” he said. “I located a training and rehabilitation facility near Munich that will help.” Plus, that gave him another month and a half to spend with his family and play a few more games with those, like Atobe, who would not be furthering their tennis. “However, I would not wish for you to cut into your university time to come out.”
Rehabilitation? Sharp eyes swung to Tezuka’s shoulder, “Does your arm still trouble you?” Atobe inquired. His own, no small role, in the initial destruction of Tezuka’s fitness back in middle school had never been a source of pride. At the time, he had never imagined that Tezuka would risk everything to take that match. Now that he knew him better, he expected nothing less.
At Tezuka’s suggestion that an excursion to Germany would be problematic for his education, Atobe waved an airy hand. “University terms are short,” he said. “I will do you the honour of my company.” He hesitated then, a thought occurring to him for the first time, “Unless that is not your wish?”
Tezuka followed Atobe’s gaze to his shoulder and willed himself not to bring his hand up to the joint. “It does not. Precautionary measures. I wish to be able to play at a high caliber for a long time.” He had been told to quit the moves that made his tennis what it was, but he was not going to listen. As long as he rested suitably and got therapy every so often, he would be fine. Besides, Atobe hadn’t been the only one to cause his arm damage. The senpai who started it, Sanada, other players who thought it was a weakness to exploit.
He blinked back confusion. “If you are sure that it will not interfere, then I would not be adverse to a visit. I will hope that you are still a good opponent.”
Atobe smiled; the gesture half way between his usual smirk and a more genuine expression of pleasure, “I would hardly trouble you otherwise.” Of course, Tezuka would be training full time from now on in, but Atobe was not about to hang up his racket. It would not be easy to maintain a proper training schedule with his studies, but he felt more than up to the challenge. Of course, being ridiculously rich helped, at least as far as coaching went.
“What of other plans, Tezuka?” he inquired, turning again to view the ocean. “Or does your life, like Yukimura’s, stop at the baseline?”
Tezuka didn’t really know how to answer the question. Tennis was the end-all be-all of his existence. He doesn’t remember a time before it and when he didn’t have it, there was a large void. Though, he supposed there was fishing, reading, and academic pursuits.
“I haven’t thought of other plans. Everything revolves around getting to the professional circuit.”
He turned away from Atobe and looked at the lights against the deepening blue of the night sky. “I realize there is life after I can no longer play as well as I would like, but I do not know what awaits there for me when I am done.”
"That will be a hard day, if an inevitable one," Atobe concurred. It was something even he, despite not going pro, would not be looking forward to. Impulsively, he reached over and laid one palm over one of the hands that rested on the rail. "You will find other challenges," he pointed out. "And it is not something you will face alone."
Tezuka felt Atobe’s hand before seeing it. He paused momentarily, eyes lowering slightly to take in the symbolism. He half expected Atobe to raise his arm up into the air like after their match in junior high. He didn’t know quite where to place this. Atobe was a... friend, he supposed and definitely a rival. However, this action was something else. He vaguely recalled the private detectives in the mystery novels he read on occasion doing this to the damsel-in-distress... right before he kissed her. Lifting his gaze to Atobe, he wondered if that was going to happen.
“As long as it is not an abrupt end, it will not be hard to cope with,” he said finally, shifting to free his hand. “Life itself is a challenge. Thus far, I have not faced it alone. I am sure it will continue as such.”
The empty hand slid onto the rail and tapped out a brief rhythm. The space beneath it felt oddly empty, although since Atobe had obviously meant nothing by that gesture he was not sure why this should be so.
“Undoubtedly,” he agreed easily. He was feeling warm. Shrugging off his jacket, he swung it over the bar. “We shall soon reach the furthest point from land on our cruise,” he said. “I should inform the kitchens they are to prepare desserts. We too, should dine again.”
Tezuka nodded. “It seems a bit short notice, don’t you think?” He was used the demands of ‘private dinners’ with Atobe every night, so the request was not unfamiliar to him. However, the staff already seemed to be on edge; asking them to prepare a slew of desserts on top of dinner was asking for mutiny. “The desserts, not dinner,” he clarified, just in case Atobe was unsure of his previous statement.
“They are paid,” Atobe said, dismissively. “And it is surely obvious that something of this type would be required.” The important event was that he and Tezuka would be dining; the cooks could surely manage a few hundred desserts on the side. He wondered what the effect of a chocolate model of a sea monster with a cat’s head would be. “We will play too,” he said to his companion. “There is just over a week left. I will not waste it.”
“I am still failing to see how dinner necessitates a multitude of desserts. The staff seems discontented as is. That will only add to it.” Tezuka wasn’t really that big into sweets anyway.
He turned away from the water and leaned back on the railing. “Tomorrow morning?” It was probably a given, since they played most mornings now, but he could never be too sure given Atobe’s demanding nature.
The other captain’s last comment gave him pause. Only around a week... “Only for the cruise,” he pointed out. “We will still have time to play before I leave for Germany in August.”
“They are works of art,” Atobe replied. “The finale to the presentation of dinner. Their consumable nature is merely a bonus.” He was tempted to insist they played immediately, as he had done during a previous dinner together, but decided against it. It was becoming late and for an inexplicable reason he found his mind was not on tennis. The mention of Germany only increased this feeling of restlessness. Perhaps he needed to... stand here gazing at the ocean with Tezuka forever... no, that could not be correct. Maybe a bath then. They seemed to work well for Seigaku.
“Tomorrow morning,” he agreed, straightening. “And when we return you must visit the cottage...”
Weekly. Daily. Hourly. Damn it, Tezuka should just live there.
“Regularly,” he concluded.
Cottage? Tezuka really shouldn’t be surprised by that. Atobe probably had houses and properties all over the world. “Does it have a tennis court?”
He nodded at Atobe’s last statement. “In any case, playing you a few times a week would be beneficial,” he said. Extra training was always a good thing. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.
Even though he was still unsure about the multitude of desserts -- he was going to avoid them for the most post -- Tezuka pushed off of the railing and took a few steps away. “We should go to dinner.”
Atobe raised an eyebrow, “It has six,” he replied. No tennis courts?! What sort of place did Tezuka think he would reside in? He nodded in satisfaction at Tezuka’s proposed match schedule and stepped forward, a movement that unexpectedly brought him inches away from where Tezuka was standing. For a brief moment, time froze as blue-grey eyes looked into the brown ones inches away. Then Atobe came to himself and turned, leading the way down to the dining hall without another explanation.
Six tennis courts. He wondered if there was a clay one, but before Tezuka could ask, Atobe was already walking toward the dining room. He would ask during dinner and began following the other captain.