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Prince of Tennis - general - 074.Dunkel

Title: Still titellos - I'm still
Author: rei17
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Atobe, Fuji, Sanada (Tezuka is still)
topic: 074.Dunkel
warnings : tragic, unrequited love until you drop
Rating: PG
Preface: 1) The basic idea is from keksdiebin , the messed up version of me. 2) It should actually go to the tragic climax of the whole mess of Tezuka / Fuji-box, which I think is going on behind the scenes of the series. Unfortunately it was not a good idea to choose this Atobe as narrator, as instead it is now predominantly ... Atobe. And to Atobe hair. * Drop *




Short PoT lexicon for beginners :
Tensai = genius / prodigy
Buchou = Captain
Fukubuchou = vice-captain (and no, that does not mean Fuck u Buchou!)
Ore-Sama = "I, the supreme God" in free translation (Thanks Maddi !) - So Atobe talk in the series most of the self


Atobe did not like camp.

The Sun had to be said.

It started with the plebeian community showers, where the morning and evening crowded the mob went with grilled sausage on paper plates (PAPPtellern!) continued and ended with the loud music that tootled night without interruption for some illegally smuggled radio through all three floors and brought him to his beauty sleep.

He had it all not really necessary.
play tennis was all well and good, but had to make such sacrifices for it? He was really ready to endure a lot, but communal showers? It just went too far.

Since yesterday he toyed with the idea to collect the few truly interesting opponents to invite on his yacht and there to open a private and much more stylish version of this unspeakable camps.
And with a few interesting opponents, he said, of course, especially one: Tezuka.

It was clear that Tezuka inwardly longed just as quickly as possible to play against Ore-sama as vice versa. Just to show Tezuka
had a funny way his joy. Namely, very subdued. He always likes to keep a presence when he noticed Atobe not at all, which of course was completely excluded.
Tezuka was simply to close it. Stoic. He was simply unwilling to deep feelings. But that could
respect Atobe. Really.

painted in happy moments Atobe likes the deep, passionate rivalry, he and Tezuka harbored for each other. In secret, and away from the dirty looks of the others. As they stood on different sides of the net, threw him Tezuka flaming eyes and my only real rival "breathed before him one of his inimitable carpentered spreads around the ears.
And if just one was around, he sighed at this Point to deep and longing and buried his face in heated velvety, lilac-colored silk pillows.

think about all the things that Tezuka could do on a tennis court with him (or even outside of a tennis court), was an eerie beautiful, but in the long run, unfortunately, a most unsatisfactory pastime.
What was one reason why Atobe walked alone at eleven in the evening outside the training facility and has dealt with the second most beautiful thing in this camp. Namely, with himself what he could help it if the others did not appreciate the sight as he did to deserve this?

The other reason why he had fled, was the fact that any of this level of non-primate (presumably Sengoku or this little mouse of Aggro-Spring Fudomine) to the gloriously stupid idea had come to play spin the bottle.

Atobe did not like spin the bottle. Generally, he could not stand games where talent, beauty and talent played no role and no one could be the best because there was no winner anyway. That was completely pointless.
Especially in this society.
Momo-chan dingsbums trying constantly stuttering and around three corners out if Ann Tachibana had no desire to cuddle with him, Kirihara had only fun if someone was bleeding and her hair ruined and when the black-haired Laber was jaw of Fudomine first time began to formulate a question that lasted forever, that in the end no one knew who was just tuned.
And Tezuka played so loose level games anyway unfortunately did not cooperate. But he had too much style. The
had retired early as two hours in his room when it started to be loud and since then had seen from his favorite rivals Atobe no more hair. A strangely familiar sound

Atobe pulled from his thoughts and look up to him. It took a moment before he could assign it. Surprised, he frowned as he the dull, uniform hitting a tennis ball on concrete heard.
Who played since this is still Tennis? In the dark?
the camp hung around a lot but obsessed freaks, but was so obsessed but none, right? Except at most Sanada, who besieged yes even at night the training room. But the Atobe had just been with Renji stand in a corner and talk about serious things to see. (Sanada was such a bore.) So, could not be.

His feet were moving almost directly naturally around the corner of the building to the all too familiar sound.

Aha.
was expected, because some freak in the red-Unit Dress Camp, who had apparently not received enough training and struck relentlessly at a completely innocent ball.
Well, each to his ...
But then Atobe could in the dim light finally realize who it was who so ruthlessly carpentered the ball against the wall and he tore his eyes in surprise. For seconds, he stopped breathing.

He had expected a lot of people (well, not so many, most were still just so concerned with spin the bottle to make the spoon), but definitely not with the.

Fuji.

Had you asked him a few minutes after a statement about Syusuke Fuji, Atobe had replied that Fuji was distinguished at first sight, primarily for his elegant discreet. Coupled with a resistant serene balance that Atobe felt themselves to be extremely irritating. Quite honestly
what was wrong with the boy? Was he a Buddhist?
Here in one hand, the training could make quite mad if all been sweating, panting and cursing at the coach struggled for breath and Fuji still smiling dreamily over the place hopping, or good and constantly ran on. Not to mention in tournaments when he stood silently in the corner and always looked a little bit scary. would have been

way or Fuji not the type with the Atobe ever the expression, bottomless despair 'associated. Bottomless perhaps, but not desperate.
But that was what just go out in waves seemed to him. Bottomless and black, and desperate as a sticky, dark mass. Fuji

his presence seemed not even to take note (and Ore-sama has always taken note!). He hammered the ball with almost brutal desperation again and again against the concrete, constantly, without pause, with such painful intensity, as he was determined to bring the rigid, unyielding wall to collapse at some point.

It was not Atobe thing if Fuji had agreed development measures. The wall would have to hold out for a while, so no major damage was feared.
That was not the reason why Atobe stood rooted to the spot. The
saw clearly not out for a structural measure, and not from additional training session, but after one long ode to self-destruction.
And even if the wall did not appear at significant risk of collapse threatened, could be that of Fuji assert themselves not able to ...

honey-colored hair stuck sweat drenched his brow, and Fuji, which never came out of breath, even then when running Tezuka him 50 laps , had struggled desperately and painfully for breath, as if little all over the world like this exists. It caused only by listening Atobe a narrow sense in the chest.

be liquid, as always, almost indecent elegant movements did not diminish anything. Paradoxically, although Fuji and looked like he would collapse at any moment, his movements seemed to be even a little bit smoother and more even than usual, he was like one beautiful, destructive symphony of grace, power and style. Not
although thought Atobe in a flash of insight and totally mesmerized, but why .
As if the flesh and blood subrogated, to the infinite automated movements were the only one that kept Fuji Syusuke still standing.

How long he had been out here?
Atobe tried to remember whether he had seen Fuji for dinner, but he was fishing in troubled waters.
What could have been because that little aggro jumping mouse from Fudomine, Momo-chan dingsbums and one of the Kisarazu twins a food fight had begun, which had degenerated into hopeless chaos, had involved half of the dining room and very amusing was was . had landed at least as long until pudding in Atobe hair. With his hair Atobe knew no fun. After that his memory was on his bathroom and an extensive conditioner reduced and he had not much noticed by the dinner.
Either way, he was pretty sure he Fuji in the last few hours had seen nowhere more aware.

Was the little confusion here as early as the end of the official training? For four hours? If so, it was no wonder he looked like now rotated through an unfriendly meat grinder.

was undecided before Atobe a step further and stopped again.
went
The Ore-sama but really nothing at all. Who
knew already what had in Seigaku for problems. And who could have guessed what had Fuji Syusuke for problems? Wanted one does not even begin to imagine.
Long day? Too much sun? The ugly turquoise terry pajamas? They could in their concentrated hideousness even cause severe psychological damages, which he saw. Perhaps this also was
's not that dramatic as it looked? And maybe Fuji had felt really only the desire for movement and a few hours of uninterrupted training?

other hand, all this did not look really good and not really healthy, what he did here. Not even a little bit.

"Fuji ...?"
No response.
He cleared his throat. "Beautiful evening, is not it?" The ball popped
precisely matched to the millimeter by his head against the wall and Atobe raised an eyebrow displeased. That was of course something like a response.

Maybe he should just leave. Seigaku should nevertheless take care of his own problems, and of his own Tensais. He knew his was where!

The ball bounced once again against the wall like a sledge hammer and Fuji were a startling, little noise, which sounded like a mixture of gasps and sobs, and most look as if his lungs began to slowly but surely, serious protest against the appeal continued abuse. Atobe
involuntarily made yet another step forward. As much as he expected that Seigakus resident tennis prodigy him every moment fell unconscious at his feet. But Fuji held
on the legs, a tenacious and clutching the racket was absolutely not the slightest institutions Atobe presence only with a view to take note.

was not the case.

"Fuji" Atobe growled. "Stop it! Whatever that will be also, Ore-sama feels very disturbed by "

Well, maybe that was not necessarily you have any problems? Want to talk about something? ', but pretty close to it, right?

He could have just as easily talk to the concrete wall beside him. Which he would no longer can ignore.
Fuji did not take the lowest Notice of him. His eyes were open, but completely empty and fixed on the ball, as it was the center of the universe. Atobe was almost certain he would have played around freezing cold to him, should Atobe get the idea to make his way.
That was not good.

Seigakus own problems or not - somehow Atobe had the dull suspicion that Tezuka would not be particularly pleased if Fuji would play here in (un) blessed unconsciousness. And Atobe was anxious to please Tezuka. An elated Tezuka was someone who might even nodded in his direction and which could consume Atobe weeks.

He had to do something.
Or rather, he had delegate this problem very quickly, so that someone else managed it for him.
Atobe was great in the delegate. This talent was innate practical.

Determined, he turned and ran back, as he thought feverishly, who was suited to this task. to get

Kabaji was not an issue.
Atobe Kabaji hung on and took it in one piece. And Fuji, he might be only half as large, was at that moment creepy and just too much for a gentle soul as its giant servant. That did not work.

In Hyotei there was not something thought Atobe worried a little. There were only happy people. After all, they could be all day in enjoy day out at Ore-sama's talent and beauty. As happened not so much emotional drama constantly in Seigaku.
Hyotei was all in all, even a refreshingly uncomplicated team. Well, Gakuto could sometimes be a nasty little toad dung, if he wanted, but the Oshitari had great control. And Shishido was quite a drama queen, but also had a total of affairs very well. Jirou's asleep all the time anyway. The
he never made trouble. Why were other schools do not be so easily?

He definitely needed someone who knew with bitchy, difficult, demanding people. Someone who was used to issue commands to which each heard. And most of all someone who was taciturn and not try would be a long debate with him around.
Someone who ...
Ah.
Sanada!

Sanada was perfect. Determined Atobe
accelerated his pace.
Sanada knew about sensitive, demanding bitch, because he had this terrible dauerkränkelnden captain with the purple hair like a weeping willow. He also had small young psychopath as Kirihara under her thumb.
With Fuji Syusuke to cope in a dramatic mood to be there should be a breeze.
Sanada was perfect for this task. He would do the job and then was allowed to present as Atobe Tezuka elegant and discreet, he had solved this little Seigaku internal drama for him.
only for him.

Sanada was still there, where Atobe had seen him the last time. In the same corner as before, only this time without Renji. He had his head down, arms crossed and looked as if he was extremely bored ugly under his cap.

"Sanada, Atobe ordered majestic and threw back his head. "Come with me." Lifted

Sanada unimpressed his head and gave him a short, unreadable look. "If it still comes to your hair ..." he began.

"We have a situation," interrupted Atobe. (And the pudding was flown from Kiriharas clear direction as Sanada could say what he wanted.)

Sanada and silently raised his eyebrows completely unimpressed and did not absolutely the smallest institutions to stir even a millimeter from the spot.

"Ore-sama does not really have time to stand around here long," Atobe went away displeased, annoyed at the lack of respect that Sanada was facing him. Learned in Rikkaidai no manners? "It's about Tezuka," he added in a spontaneous inspiration.
This was not a lie. At least not directly. Fuji had was from Seigaku, Tezuka and everything to do with his team had to do, always so mad at heart.

Sanada still looked alike from unimpressed, but still resulted in the naming of Tezuka's name that he is detached from the wall and finally herlief behind Atobe.
Atobe smiled. There you go. It went.

Atobe took him from the common room (where it looked for some unknown reasons, as if Fuji's little brother and the black-haired manager of St. Rudolph just a waltz danced with each other), past the abandoned tennis courts, determined on the dark, unlit corner behind the main building.
of closed far he could hear that Fuji had been folded, nor abandoned had. The bouncing of the ball sounded like a beating heart in the darkness, stumbling, irregular, too fast and very, very dramatic.

involuntarily Atobe accelerated his pace.

"There," he said with a gesture, the Fuji's slim figure and the rapidly back and herfliegenden miteinschloss ball, and stayed a few meters away are safe.

Sanada also remained standing and threw him one, what you want from me? 'to view.

"You can see it. Do what, "Atobe said ungracious and folded his arms invitingly. Sanada not mind because that Tezuka is not happy would be if his Tensai silently behind the scenes here collapsed?

Sanada and Atobe turned his head could see almost like the cool, dark eyes under the cap the whole ugly scene in no time recorded and analyzed.

"Hn," he made.

Atobe assumed that the consent should be expressed.
It could however also mean that all Sanada total ass walked by.
That was hard to tell with him.

But then Sanada made some decisive steps in the direction of Fuji and Atobe smiled before he hands in his pockets and pushed him was more measured step.

"Fuji" Sanada, announced in his deep, commanding voice familiar. "Stop it." Atobe remained a step behind him, and waited interesting to see what happened.
It was balm for his tattered ego, as Fuji also Rikkaidais Fukubuchou with complete lack of attention punished and unmoved on playing.

Sanada, however, saw as if he had tried only a token, because in the next second he did completely unmoved that Atobe had not previously ventured.
He analyzed with a quick look immaculately beautiful Fuji's movements, then stepped sideways up to him, the graceful Tensai grabbed his arm and pulled him briefly and without compromise from the club hand.

Atobe was a disapproval of the snap. For such gross motor force was Ore-sama would normally not have.
"Sanada, must that so ..."

the "Hold it." Unceremoniously shoved him against Sanada and Atobe Fuji bats fell silent in surprise.

Fuji's eyes sparkled and he looked dazed for seconds and each other, as if he had just awakened from a trance. He flew around his head, and he threw a narrow view of displeased Sanadas hand on his arm.

"Give it back!" Fuji ordered sharply. "Give me now ..." It was not him
that sentence to end.

twisted Without warning Fuji eyes and slumped lifelessly in on itself, like a robot, which they had pulled the plug. As if the club was really the last and only thing he had yet maintained.

"Fuji" Alarmed Atobe was a step forward.
Sanada other hand, seemed to have exactly expected, he began to Fuji with a pragmatic and precisely calculated movement of the arm and lifted him calmly and effortlessly high.

Seigakus otherwise so scary Tensai hung limp and lifeless as a very delicate doll in his arms. His hair is disheveled and sweaty stuck in his forehead and he looked at this Moment is very small and very little intimidating out.

Atobe bit back the dramatic, Now you've ruined it! 'what was he on the tongue and tried to hide his concern behind nonchalance. "Huh."
He Fuji bat tucked under one arm and touched the other hand carefully Fuji's cheek. His pulse was flying under Atobe fingertips and he was totally wet with sweat. His eyes flickered uneasily among the tightly closed eyelids, but he made no move to get back to him.

"exhaustion," Sanada diagnosed professionally and without that Atobe had asked him for his opinion. "Pulse too fast, blood pressure is too low, probably dehydrated. Should be smooth things over with isotonic fluids and rest a bit. "

snorted Atobe. This emotional piece of wood!
When it came to the ridiculous ailments of his master, he was not so unmoved.
Nevertheless, he had to secretly join this diagnosis.

"This is not like Tezuka," he murmured thoughtfully for several seconds and undecided what to do now.

Sanada shrugged, as if he could not remain indifferent, turned around and started back determined to walk to the main building.

"What are you doing? not there! Are you of madness? "Hissed Atobe and stood him vigorously in his way. What the guy had to do? Was he so lifeless trudge with Seigakus Tensai in his arms, across the common room and hope that it attracted no attention?
Good God. Some people were really not so very sensitivity.

Sanada raised an eyebrow and looked as he began Atobe continuous verbal reminders of his presence to find extremely annoying. "He should be on the ward," he said.

"No, he should not!" Atobe took only seconds to think through all that.

Granted, he might drama. Especially when he stood at the center of it. defeated
And the idea of marching with Fuji in his arms through the half camp, like an emperor, who was just the dragon and rescued the princess (with Sanada in a supporting role as a loyal samurai), had quite their appeal.
other hand, there was still superior to Tezuka.
Tezuka had always been with his team. It went all very close and since he would have designated any insurgency do to the whole camp mitbekam. No, that would solve Tezuka discreet. And more than anything else he would want to be in control.

This was the chance to prove to him what Atobe was a great Buchou. Completely equal, articulate, and confident in his decisions.

That and the fact that Tezuka always looked completely ready when he was forced to show as some sort of feelings in public. Atobe he did not expect. And possibly a very small, selfish part of him wanted to Tezuka's outburst also economical all to herself alone.

"We put him in my room," he decided spontaneously and Sanada meant to follow it. "Ore-sama did not get in this primitive building's apartments, which he is entitled, but it's still a single and should be suitable."

For seconds, Sanada looked as if he wanted to protest. But then he shook his head almost imperceptibly, and followed him. Ore-sama had probably convinced him with his perceptive reasoning and natural authority.
That, or discussing Sanada was simply not worth the trouble.

Continued follow