Rondo to Destruction 2/5 -Prince of Tennis
Title: Rondo to Destruction
Author/Artist: Aishuu
Pairing/Characters: Atobe/Mizuki
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei, Manga-ka.
Notes: Part two, at long last. Part One is here: http://www.livejournal.com/community/quillofferings/1432.html#cutid1
PART TWO:
Whenever there was a tournament, it was inevitable they met. Despite his team’s elimination on the prefectural level, Mizuki attended all of the matches, obviously formatting a plan for next year, when he would be in charge of the program. St. Rudolph’s had a history of player-managers, and Mizuki would be taking over the program as a second year, simply because of his brilliance.
Atobe finally managed to get a shot in at Mizuki during Kantou, though admittedly it was a minor shot. But he figured it was better than nothing.
Mizuki never missed any of Seigaku’s games, which Atobe noticed, because neither did he. He assumed at first that Mizuki was taking data on players, but he noticed a particular obsession with anything Fuji Syuusuke did. Well, that was fine with Atobe, because he had his sights set on other prey.
Tezuka.
Tezuka was playing well, defeating opponent after opponent with ease. Atobe watched, awe by the cool passion that elevated the stoic boy to the level Atobe was at. He knew that Tezuka, should he go professional, would probably be his life-long rival.
Right now their matches stood at one-one, and Atobe knew that they would meet again in nationals. Seigaku had a strong team this year, and as long as they didn’t get upset by some paltry team, they should enter the finals of Kantou. Seigaku only had three strong slots - Doubles 2, with Oishi-Kikumaru, and Singles 3 and 2, with Fuji and Tezuka. The older players, while decent, simply didn’t have that “extra something” that made them fit to play on the national level.
It made him rather nostalgic for junior high, when Seigaku had faced Hyotei on an equal level. Still, Atobe didn’t worry too much about it, figuring that the other school would eventually have all their players in two years. After graduation the world of professional sports would be open, and that would be something else. He got excited just thinking about it. But that was later, and he had to worry about the present. Atobe knew he needed to defeat Tezuka again, and that meant being fully prepared.
At the Kantou semi-finals, he watched Seigaku take on Rokkaku. It was a good match, with Seigaku dropping first doubles, so Tezuka had the chance to play.
As the brown-haired boy walked onto the court, silence fell, whispers springing up around him. It was different than what Atobe was used to - he was accustomed to worshipful cheers that he could control with a snap of his fingers, but the reverence Tezuka evoked had an appeal all of its own.
He wasn’t surprised that Mizuki managed to appear beside him, dressed in casual - and exceptionally bright - clothes that made Atobe’s eyes hurt to look at them. It should have looked absolutely horrible, but Mizuki carried it off with a panache that Atobe couldn’t help but admire. If only he could admire the personality behind the brilliant mind.
Mizuki took the seat next to him, apparently unconcerned that others would talk about school loyalties later. Mizuki was very much “ends justify the means” oriented from what Atobe had learned of him.
“This should be a good game,” Mizuki murmured. “Seigaku’s star first year Tezuka ‘it is possible to be colder than an ice cube’ Kunimitsu versus Rokkaku’s vice captain Okita ‘I’ve had Ponta, sugar, and a few injections of illegal uppers’ Yuusuke. It’s an interesting study in how much passion can affect a game, isn’t it?”
Atobe spared him a crooked eyebrow. “I’d check your data again, Mizuki. Tezuka is one of the most passionate players on the court.”
Mizuki wasn’t insulted by Atobe’s implication of the flaws in his analysis. Instead he crossed his legs, leaning back a bit, and propped his hand on his chin. “That’s interesting. His expression never looks anything but blank.”
“You need to get close enough to see the look in his eyes while he’s playing,” Atobe said. He smirked again, seeing an opportunity to raise Mizuki’s hackles up. “Of course, you need to get into the Singles 1 or 2 spot to play against him, so I doubt you’ll have the chance.”
Mizuki’s right eyelid twitched in irritation, but his smile remained plastered on. He didn’t deign to answer Atobe’s jibe, which made Atobe glow with inner pleasure. Finally, he was getting some of his own back from the damn slime ball.
The game between Tezuka and Okita ended in much the way any of them expected - with Tezuka winning but a rather large margin. Even on the high school scene, Tezuka was something to watch. Atobe found himself watching his rival with careful eyes, figuring out how he would have responded, knowing that he would have played much better...
Mizuki glanced over at him as Atobe he watched Seigaku and Rokkaku line up at the net at the end. “Shall we go extend our congratulations?” he asked.
It was on the tip of Atobe’s tongue to say that he would rather kiss a piranha than do anything with Mizuki, but he wasn’t about to back down from the implied challenge. “It’s only polite.”
“And we’re always polite, aren’t we?”
“Bad manners are a sign of poor breeding.” He could talk to Tezuka, he supposed. It was always fun to rile the stoic boy.
The Seigaku team was already preparing to leave when they arrived, calling to each other as they zipped racquets into bags. Mizuki made for Fuji Syuusuke like a homing pigeon, and Atobe was unable to resist tagging along, curious about what was going to happen.
He knew about Fuji, and knew that Mizuki was on his black list. It would be amusing to see what the tensai would do.
Mizuki actually seemed to strike a pose as Fuji finished putting his towel away, waiting for the Seigaku player to rise before speaking. He stood with one leg slightly in front of the other, elegantly arranging his arms in front of him. “It was a good game, Fuji-kun, though I think you were sloppy. Then again, with your skills, I guess you can afford to be, can’t you?”
“Do I know you?” Fuji asked curiously.
Atobe saw Mizuki’s eyebrow twitch in much the same way it had done months ago when he had asked a similar question. He doubted that Fuji had forgotten Mizuki, but the perplex expression on Fuji’s face seemed sincere.
“Mizuki. Mizuki Hajime,” Mizuki said after a moment, trying to keep hold of his rather quick temper.
“Oh,” Fuji said without much interest. Then he snapped his fingers, as he apparently placed where he knew Mizuki from, the smile growing slightly. “You go to school with Yuuta, right? How is he?”
The twitching grew more pronounced. “He’s a year below me. I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh.” Fuji looked away at where his team was packing up, all interest in the St. Rudolph player flown. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Mitsuki-kun...”
“Mi-zu-ki,” Mizuki returned, enunciating his name carefully. Atobe saw the veins in Mizuki’s forehead begin to pulse with irritation.
“What did you say?” Fuji asked, glancing back. “Eiji, I’ll be right over!” he called to his teammate who was standing a few feet away.
Atobe watched as Fuji played with Mizuki like a master puppeteer, jerking his strings and making him dance with frustration. The slight smile lingering on Fuji’s lips made Atobe realize that Fuji was quite aware of whom he was playing with. He was reminded of a cat poking its prey before it spring, determined to provoke a reaction.
Mizuki looked like he was ready to start screaming. It was amazing that Mizuki, usually so perceptive, managed to let himself be toyed with so thoroughly. It was all Atobe could do not to burst out laughing.
Then Fuji spared the diva a quick glance, as though perfectly aware of what his was thinking, and Atobe almost went reeling backwards from the shock. Fuji’s eyes had opened, and Atobe was close enough to see their color for the first time. His breath caught as the startling blue color was revealed, a blue so intense that it seemed surreal.
My toy, they seemed to say, warning him off trying to give Mizuki any hint on what was really going on. Fuji was enjoying tormenting the egotistical boy, and heaven help anyone who got in the way of his fun.
Mizuki, by now, was fuming. “Fuji-kun, I can’t believe your memory is really that bad,” he said, and his fingers were twirling his hair in the fashion Atobe now knew meant he was thinking or irritated. “Could it be you’re jealous of how close your brother is to me?”
Atobe winced inside. He had no clue about how close the Fuji siblings were or weren’t, but he knew it was a bad idea to bring family into it.
Fuji’s voice was like an arctic glacier, cold and relentless, as the smile fell away. “There’s nothing you have that I would be jealous of, Mizuki-kun,” he said. Then his smile was back, and he appeared perfectly normal to those who expected him to be the sweet, gentle boy most thought he was. “It’s been nice talking to you, but I should be getting back to my team. We’ve got to prepare for the best four,” he continued. He turned around and walked away, leaving Mizuki fuming behind him.
It was a masterful performance, Atobe had to admit. Fuji managed to hit Mizuki where it hurt - his pride. Not that Mizuki’s pride was a small target, but denting it was more difficult that it should have been.
“That was an extraordinary display in the art of the put-down,” Atobe said in amusement, looking over at Mizuki.
“Just shut up, you stupid diva.”
Atobe laughed and walked away, knowing he’d finally gotten some of his own back. He was so amused that he even left taunting Tezuka for another day - there would be time for that later.
He wanted to savor the memory of Mizuki’s frustration like fine wine.
Author/Artist: Aishuu
Pairing/Characters: Atobe/Mizuki
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei, Manga-ka.
Notes: Part two, at long last. Part One is here: http://www.livejournal.com/community/quillofferings/1432.html#cutid1
PART TWO:
Whenever there was a tournament, it was inevitable they met. Despite his team’s elimination on the prefectural level, Mizuki attended all of the matches, obviously formatting a plan for next year, when he would be in charge of the program. St. Rudolph’s had a history of player-managers, and Mizuki would be taking over the program as a second year, simply because of his brilliance.
Atobe finally managed to get a shot in at Mizuki during Kantou, though admittedly it was a minor shot. But he figured it was better than nothing.
Mizuki never missed any of Seigaku’s games, which Atobe noticed, because neither did he. He assumed at first that Mizuki was taking data on players, but he noticed a particular obsession with anything Fuji Syuusuke did. Well, that was fine with Atobe, because he had his sights set on other prey.
Tezuka.
Tezuka was playing well, defeating opponent after opponent with ease. Atobe watched, awe by the cool passion that elevated the stoic boy to the level Atobe was at. He knew that Tezuka, should he go professional, would probably be his life-long rival.
Right now their matches stood at one-one, and Atobe knew that they would meet again in nationals. Seigaku had a strong team this year, and as long as they didn’t get upset by some paltry team, they should enter the finals of Kantou. Seigaku only had three strong slots - Doubles 2, with Oishi-Kikumaru, and Singles 3 and 2, with Fuji and Tezuka. The older players, while decent, simply didn’t have that “extra something” that made them fit to play on the national level.
It made him rather nostalgic for junior high, when Seigaku had faced Hyotei on an equal level. Still, Atobe didn’t worry too much about it, figuring that the other school would eventually have all their players in two years. After graduation the world of professional sports would be open, and that would be something else. He got excited just thinking about it. But that was later, and he had to worry about the present. Atobe knew he needed to defeat Tezuka again, and that meant being fully prepared.
At the Kantou semi-finals, he watched Seigaku take on Rokkaku. It was a good match, with Seigaku dropping first doubles, so Tezuka had the chance to play.
As the brown-haired boy walked onto the court, silence fell, whispers springing up around him. It was different than what Atobe was used to - he was accustomed to worshipful cheers that he could control with a snap of his fingers, but the reverence Tezuka evoked had an appeal all of its own.
He wasn’t surprised that Mizuki managed to appear beside him, dressed in casual - and exceptionally bright - clothes that made Atobe’s eyes hurt to look at them. It should have looked absolutely horrible, but Mizuki carried it off with a panache that Atobe couldn’t help but admire. If only he could admire the personality behind the brilliant mind.
Mizuki took the seat next to him, apparently unconcerned that others would talk about school loyalties later. Mizuki was very much “ends justify the means” oriented from what Atobe had learned of him.
“This should be a good game,” Mizuki murmured. “Seigaku’s star first year Tezuka ‘it is possible to be colder than an ice cube’ Kunimitsu versus Rokkaku’s vice captain Okita ‘I’ve had Ponta, sugar, and a few injections of illegal uppers’ Yuusuke. It’s an interesting study in how much passion can affect a game, isn’t it?”
Atobe spared him a crooked eyebrow. “I’d check your data again, Mizuki. Tezuka is one of the most passionate players on the court.”
Mizuki wasn’t insulted by Atobe’s implication of the flaws in his analysis. Instead he crossed his legs, leaning back a bit, and propped his hand on his chin. “That’s interesting. His expression never looks anything but blank.”
“You need to get close enough to see the look in his eyes while he’s playing,” Atobe said. He smirked again, seeing an opportunity to raise Mizuki’s hackles up. “Of course, you need to get into the Singles 1 or 2 spot to play against him, so I doubt you’ll have the chance.”
Mizuki’s right eyelid twitched in irritation, but his smile remained plastered on. He didn’t deign to answer Atobe’s jibe, which made Atobe glow with inner pleasure. Finally, he was getting some of his own back from the damn slime ball.
The game between Tezuka and Okita ended in much the way any of them expected - with Tezuka winning but a rather large margin. Even on the high school scene, Tezuka was something to watch. Atobe found himself watching his rival with careful eyes, figuring out how he would have responded, knowing that he would have played much better...
Mizuki glanced over at him as Atobe he watched Seigaku and Rokkaku line up at the net at the end. “Shall we go extend our congratulations?” he asked.
It was on the tip of Atobe’s tongue to say that he would rather kiss a piranha than do anything with Mizuki, but he wasn’t about to back down from the implied challenge. “It’s only polite.”
“And we’re always polite, aren’t we?”
“Bad manners are a sign of poor breeding.” He could talk to Tezuka, he supposed. It was always fun to rile the stoic boy.
The Seigaku team was already preparing to leave when they arrived, calling to each other as they zipped racquets into bags. Mizuki made for Fuji Syuusuke like a homing pigeon, and Atobe was unable to resist tagging along, curious about what was going to happen.
He knew about Fuji, and knew that Mizuki was on his black list. It would be amusing to see what the tensai would do.
Mizuki actually seemed to strike a pose as Fuji finished putting his towel away, waiting for the Seigaku player to rise before speaking. He stood with one leg slightly in front of the other, elegantly arranging his arms in front of him. “It was a good game, Fuji-kun, though I think you were sloppy. Then again, with your skills, I guess you can afford to be, can’t you?”
“Do I know you?” Fuji asked curiously.
Atobe saw Mizuki’s eyebrow twitch in much the same way it had done months ago when he had asked a similar question. He doubted that Fuji had forgotten Mizuki, but the perplex expression on Fuji’s face seemed sincere.
“Mizuki. Mizuki Hajime,” Mizuki said after a moment, trying to keep hold of his rather quick temper.
“Oh,” Fuji said without much interest. Then he snapped his fingers, as he apparently placed where he knew Mizuki from, the smile growing slightly. “You go to school with Yuuta, right? How is he?”
The twitching grew more pronounced. “He’s a year below me. I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh.” Fuji looked away at where his team was packing up, all interest in the St. Rudolph player flown. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Mitsuki-kun...”
“Mi-zu-ki,” Mizuki returned, enunciating his name carefully. Atobe saw the veins in Mizuki’s forehead begin to pulse with irritation.
“What did you say?” Fuji asked, glancing back. “Eiji, I’ll be right over!” he called to his teammate who was standing a few feet away.
Atobe watched as Fuji played with Mizuki like a master puppeteer, jerking his strings and making him dance with frustration. The slight smile lingering on Fuji’s lips made Atobe realize that Fuji was quite aware of whom he was playing with. He was reminded of a cat poking its prey before it spring, determined to provoke a reaction.
Mizuki looked like he was ready to start screaming. It was amazing that Mizuki, usually so perceptive, managed to let himself be toyed with so thoroughly. It was all Atobe could do not to burst out laughing.
Then Fuji spared the diva a quick glance, as though perfectly aware of what his was thinking, and Atobe almost went reeling backwards from the shock. Fuji’s eyes had opened, and Atobe was close enough to see their color for the first time. His breath caught as the startling blue color was revealed, a blue so intense that it seemed surreal.
My toy, they seemed to say, warning him off trying to give Mizuki any hint on what was really going on. Fuji was enjoying tormenting the egotistical boy, and heaven help anyone who got in the way of his fun.
Mizuki, by now, was fuming. “Fuji-kun, I can’t believe your memory is really that bad,” he said, and his fingers were twirling his hair in the fashion Atobe now knew meant he was thinking or irritated. “Could it be you’re jealous of how close your brother is to me?”
Atobe winced inside. He had no clue about how close the Fuji siblings were or weren’t, but he knew it was a bad idea to bring family into it.
Fuji’s voice was like an arctic glacier, cold and relentless, as the smile fell away. “There’s nothing you have that I would be jealous of, Mizuki-kun,” he said. Then his smile was back, and he appeared perfectly normal to those who expected him to be the sweet, gentle boy most thought he was. “It’s been nice talking to you, but I should be getting back to my team. We’ve got to prepare for the best four,” he continued. He turned around and walked away, leaving Mizuki fuming behind him.
It was a masterful performance, Atobe had to admit. Fuji managed to hit Mizuki where it hurt - his pride. Not that Mizuki’s pride was a small target, but denting it was more difficult that it should have been.
“That was an extraordinary display in the art of the put-down,” Atobe said in amusement, looking over at Mizuki.
“Just shut up, you stupid diva.”
Atobe laughed and walked away, knowing he’d finally gotten some of his own back. He was so amused that he even left taunting Tezuka for another day - there would be time for that later.
He wanted to savor the memory of Mizuki’s frustration like fine wine.