Blasphemy; AtoJi; PG; Drama, Romance; One-shot
Title: Blasphemy
Author: Hanabi Reeza [aoireeza]
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama, Romance
Pairing: JiAto [note the order of their names]
Word Count: 393
Diclaimers: TeniPuri isn't mine. It belongs to Konomi-sensei.
Summary: "And to say that someone was actually better than Atobe was more than an insult. It was sacrilege. "
Blasphemy
In Jiroh’s eyes, Atobe could never be less than Atobe.
Atobe… was the epitome of tennis and life intertwined. Atobe played with intense passion, so much that tennis was no longer just a game - it was already his life. Such an instance comes that Atobe will be faced with an injury would mean death altogether for Atobe, and possibly for Jiroh as well.
Atobe was more that a tennis player, of course, in every member of Hyotei’s tennis club. He was buchou, everyone’s source of strength and courage. Atobe stood on top of those 200 members of the tennis club, and defying him would mean getting yourself kicked out of the team. Yet Atobe wasn’t all that. He was the team’s vital breeze, their guide to success. He was buchou after all - that was his duty. Yet, sometimes, Atobe wouldn’t be buchou because he is, but because he wanted to be there for them, even for those who weren’t regulars.
For Jiroh.
That, of course, was how Jiroh perceived Atobe. Atobe was his shoulder-to-lean-on in his times of immense lethargy, his instant pillow and all-around person to hug and tackle and such. Atobe permitted such, primarily because he couldn’t do anything about it. But in truth, he really didn’t mind. In fact, he found it… refreshing.
For Jiroh, Atobe was more than anyone could ever ask for. Atobe was perfect. And to say that someone was actually better than Atobe was more than an insult. It was sacrilege.
Yet…
There was Tezuka, Seigaku’s buchou. Everyone looked up to him, even Atobe. Yes, even Atobe who supposedly didn’t want to look up to anyone else but himself. Even Fuji, the tensai and complete mystery that he was, looked up to Tezuka. Heck, even that brat Echizen looked up to him.
There was no way Tezuka could be better than Atobe. No way.
But in Atobe’s eyes, in the eyes of the person who Jiroh perceived as the masterpiece of God, Tezuka was the one who was perfect in every angle, perspective, in every single way. He couldn’t be wrong. He couldn’t possibly make a mistake.
Therefore, by the law of symmetry, Jiroh must look up to Tezuka, see him as the perfect creation of God.
Call it sacrilege; call it profanity, for all Jiroh cared.
Atobe was the only thing he’ll ever believe in.
393 words | 26 April 2006 | 7:51p
Author: Hanabi Reeza [aoireeza]
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama, Romance
Pairing: JiAto [note the order of their names]
Word Count: 393
Diclaimers: TeniPuri isn't mine. It belongs to Konomi-sensei.
Summary: "And to say that someone was actually better than Atobe was more than an insult. It was sacrilege. "
Blasphemy
In Jiroh’s eyes, Atobe could never be less than Atobe.
Atobe… was the epitome of tennis and life intertwined. Atobe played with intense passion, so much that tennis was no longer just a game - it was already his life. Such an instance comes that Atobe will be faced with an injury would mean death altogether for Atobe, and possibly for Jiroh as well.
Atobe was more that a tennis player, of course, in every member of Hyotei’s tennis club. He was buchou, everyone’s source of strength and courage. Atobe stood on top of those 200 members of the tennis club, and defying him would mean getting yourself kicked out of the team. Yet Atobe wasn’t all that. He was the team’s vital breeze, their guide to success. He was buchou after all - that was his duty. Yet, sometimes, Atobe wouldn’t be buchou because he is, but because he wanted to be there for them, even for those who weren’t regulars.
For Jiroh.
That, of course, was how Jiroh perceived Atobe. Atobe was his shoulder-to-lean-on in his times of immense lethargy, his instant pillow and all-around person to hug and tackle and such. Atobe permitted such, primarily because he couldn’t do anything about it. But in truth, he really didn’t mind. In fact, he found it… refreshing.
For Jiroh, Atobe was more than anyone could ever ask for. Atobe was perfect. And to say that someone was actually better than Atobe was more than an insult. It was sacrilege.
Yet…
There was Tezuka, Seigaku’s buchou. Everyone looked up to him, even Atobe. Yes, even Atobe who supposedly didn’t want to look up to anyone else but himself. Even Fuji, the tensai and complete mystery that he was, looked up to Tezuka. Heck, even that brat Echizen looked up to him.
There was no way Tezuka could be better than Atobe. No way.
But in Atobe’s eyes, in the eyes of the person who Jiroh perceived as the masterpiece of God, Tezuka was the one who was perfect in every angle, perspective, in every single way. He couldn’t be wrong. He couldn’t possibly make a mistake.
Therefore, by the law of symmetry, Jiroh must look up to Tezuka, see him as the perfect creation of God.
Call it sacrilege; call it profanity, for all Jiroh cared.
Atobe was the only thing he’ll ever believe in.
393 words | 26 April 2006 | 7:51p