Title: Atobe vs. Nanjirou
Author: Kiarene
Pairings: Nanjirou + Atobe (sort of)
Rating: G
Summary: Tezuka owes Atobe a favor. Set after some time after the Kantou
Finals.
Published:
Disclaimer: I would love to
own Atobe-sama… and gang… but I don’t.
Atobe vs. Nanjirou
“Where are
we going, Atobe?” Makuhi whined.
It was the
usual Saturday morning practice, but for some reason, Atobe told the regulars
that they would be having a special training session somewhere else. Atobe
refused to tell them where or what, but instead told them to get into his
limousine. Even though it was a huge car, it had been a bit of a tight squeeze,
especially when Kabaji got in, but they managed.
“Tezuka
owes me a favor,” Atobe announced.
The others
remembered the practice matches they had with Seigaku before the Kantou finals.
“Eh, it wasn’t just *you* who was playing,” Shishido grumbled. “And you didn’t
answer the question.”
Atobe
continued, ignoring Shishido. “We’re going over to Echizen Ryoma’s house.”
“What, to
play another match against Seigaku?” Makuhi squirmed, trying to find a
comfortable position atop Oshitari’s lap. The taller boy grinned blissfully.
“No,
against his father. Echizen Nanjirou.”
“Huh?!”
---
Atobe got
out of the limo, a pleased smirk on his face. Finally, he was going to see the
secret of Echizen Ryoma’s success!
“Atobe.”
“Tezuka.
Thank you for arranging this opportunity.”
The two
captains greeted each other politely and shook hands.
“Ah.”
Tezuka nodded towards Ryoma’s direction, where the bored looking boy was
leaning against the doorway. “I didn’t do anything. It was all due to Ryoma.”
“
“Did the
other Seigaku regulars come?” Atobe asked.
Tezuka
frowned slightly, a baffled look on his normally expressionless face. “No, for
some strange reason, only Momoshiro turned up. At first they were excited about
another match with Hyotei, but when I mentioned that Echizen’s father would be
there…”
“Oh? Is he such
a hard taskmaster then?” Atobe asked curiously.
Tezuka
shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m the only one on the team that has not met
Echizen’s father since I had been away in
“
At the back
of the Echizen’s household was a spacious yard. Not at big as his, of course,
Atobe noted. And only one court. How disappointing. Momoshiro was already
there, talking to a tanned man in black, who must be Echizen’s father.
“AhhHHH,
Ryoma! So these are the players from your rival team?” The older man leapt
forward excitedly. “Oooo…. They’re a lot better looking than your teammates.”
“Oy!”
Momoshiro shouted.
The Hyotei
team took a collective step back, startled. This…. was Echizen Ryoma’s father?
“Pretty.” Nanjirou
leered at Mukuhi, who squeaked and grabbed Oshitari’s arm.
“This one
too, nice eyes, nice hair. Too bad it’s cut short and hidden under that ugly
cap.” Shishido gasped as Najiroh suddenly appeared beside him and stepped back
against Ohtori with a panicked look.
“You looked
pretty too, but pity about the sour face. Smi~ile!” Nanjirou pinched Hiyoshi’s
cheeks, causing the second year boy to flush in embarrassment and anger.
Aside,
Ryoma had buried his face in his hands in mortification. “Oyaji, could you be
anymore embarrassing?” Tezuka was speechless and Momoshito was laughing his
head off. The Hyotei team all had the same thought — this was an undefeated
tennis pro? The great Samurai Nanjirou?
“Ooo, but you’re
by far the prettiest one! Num-bah one!” Nanjirou leered at Atobe over the top
of his sunglasses. He rubbed his chin in a manner that made everyone else’s
hair stand.
“Of
course!” Atobe recovered quickly, and tossed his head. “Ore-sama no bigi no
yoina!”
“I am, oh I
am!”
Atobe
blinked in shock, and only fast reflexes honed from years of avoiding hordes of
adoring and groping fans allowed him to deftly side-step Nanjirou’s hands,
which were hovering somewhere near his buttocks.
“Oh ho!” Nanjirou
dipped his shades, eyes glinting. “A worthy challenge!”
Ryoma
chortled, recognizing that his father loved nothing more than a challenge. He
almost felt sorry for the Monkey King.
“I will
allow you to admire ore-sama,” Atobe sniffed, crossing his arms. “From a
distance.”
“But such
luscious globes…” Nanjirou’s fingers were twitching. Everyone’s eyes were
immediately drawn to said globes.
Atobe
flushed in anger, wishing he had worn track pants instead of tennis shorts that
day. “Oy old man, we’re here to play tennis, not leer at ore-sama.”
“You are
here to play tennis?” Nanjirou feigned bafflement in a falsetto. “Against me?”
“Tezuka,
are you sure…?” Atobe back-pedaled and hissed at the Seigaku captain.
Tezuka
adjusted his glasses with a frown and hissed at his kouhai. “Echizen, are you
sure…?”
Momoshir
couldn’t seem to stop laughing. Ryoma crossed his arms, muttering sullenly.
“And Oyaji wonders why none of my teammates want to come back for further
practice.” He spoke up in a louder, irritated voice. “Oyaji, stop fooling
around.”
“Ano, no
need to yell.” Nanjirou shrugged, picking up his racket from the floor. “I’ll
play a game,” he whirled, pointing his racket at Atobe. “Against the pretty boy
here.”
Atobe
sneered, pulling out his own racket. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“How about
a wager?” Nanjirou rested his racket casually on his shoulder, grinning. “If I
win, you’ll let me touch your butt.”
“Oyaji…”
Ryoma hissed in a low, mortified tone, pulling his cap further down.
“Fine,
because ore-sama never loses.” Atobe smirked arrogantly, flicking his hair. “And
if I win?”
“Then I’ll
train you. Seriously.” Nanjirou was already walking onto the court, an equally
cocky smirk on his face. “But you won’t win.”
Atobe
scowled.
“Ooo~, what
firm, bouncy cheeks.”
Everyone
face-vaulted.
Atobe’s
grip on his racket was so hard it creaked. “Bring it on.”
---
“Would
Atobe-bucho be all right? Echizen’s father was a pro, after all.”
“You worry
too much Choutarou. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“….”
“Atobe gets
molested.”
Muffled
snickers.
“No big
deal.”
“Atobe can
take care of himself. Ne, Kabaji?”
“Usu.”
“….so, why
are *you* here. Momoshiro, is it?”
“I’m not
his type, apparently. Luck~ky!”
---
Unfortunately
for Atobe, he lost.
“Six games
to one. Game and match, Echizen.” Tezuka called out.
Everyone
clapped. It was an outstanding match.
Atobe
glared hard across that net at the older man as he wiped his brow. Nanjirou swung
his racket over his shoulder and strode up to the net. “Good game. You even
managed to take one game — better than my brat over there.”
“Hn.” Ryoma
crossed his arms. The Hyotei team watched in new awe at the older man and
Momoshiro was grinning madly.
Nanjirou held
his hand out and Atobe shook it reluctantly. Even the great ore-sama had to
admit that Echizen Nanjirou was fully deserving of his reputation — on the
courts. He hadn’t played such a hard game, and so seriously, since his match
with Tezuka.
“But—” Nanjirou
winked. “Mada mada dane.”
“
“Now that
you lost…”
Atobe hated
that annoying falsetto. Tossing his head back, he challenged. “Well, you may
touch ore-sama… if you can.”
“A
challenge, eh?” Nanjirou finally released Atobe’s hand. Dropping his racket, he
leapt over the net. Everyone snickered, eyes dancing.
Atobe
stepped back quickly, yet gracefully. “Of course. Ore-sama is *not* easy.”
“But you promised!”
Nanjirou whined as he scampered after the elusive bishounen.
“Ah. But a
challenge only makes the prize more worth it.”
Everyone
watched in awe as Atobe eluded the lecher’s grasp. Again and again. Years of
ballroom lessons and fangirl avoidance were paying off. The Hyotei captain was nimble
and quick, smoothly swinging his hips — and buttocks — away from the other’s
grasping hands as he neatly side-stepped around the older man. Even with years
of leaching experience under his belt, Nanjirou was no match for the younger
boy.
“Ah!”
Nanjirou wailed in dismay as he tripped.
Everyone
clapped. It was an outstanding performance.
Atobe
sauntered off the court, throwing a blinding smirk over his shoulder. “Mada
mada dane.” And he patted one cheek mockingly.
The End