Things Fall Apart - 00

Things Fall Apart

Summary: Atobe has given up tennis, choosing to follow 'The Atobe Path to Success' while Tezuka struggles to make a name for himself as a Tennis Pro. At the lowest point of Tezuka’s career, he is unexpectedly reunited with Atobe, who is not as satisfied with his own life as he had thought he would be.

Things Fall Apart

Summary: Atobe has given up tennis, choosing to follow 'The Atobe Path to Success' while Tezuka struggles to make a name for himself as a Tennis Pro. At the lowest point of Tezuka’s career, he is unexpectedly reunited with Atobe, who is not as satisfied with his own life as he had thought he would be.

Prologue

Hyoutei Gakuen—2001

Tezuka Kunimitsu’s application to turn pro was accepted the week before Keigo’s graduation from Hyoutei Gakuen. He and the rest of his team found out about it from Mukahi, who had overheard Mizuki Hajime and Fuji Yuuta talking about it at the street courts the night before.

Mukahi acted as though it were the funniest thing that he’d ever heard in his life, bursting into giggles as he’d described the sour expression on Mizuki’s face and the way that Yuuta had gone on an on and on about how Fuji Syuusuke had gushed about Tezuka being the next Agassi. “I wanted to tell Fuji to shut up, or bitch slap Mizuki so that he’d quit whining about how he could do so much better, but well, you know how St. Rudolph students are. That school isn’t much better than a correctional facility filled with juvenile delinquents, and physical fights are beneath me.”

There was a murmur of agreement from his team mates. Meanwhile, Keigo had tuned out of Mukahi once he’d finished with the hard facts and begun to talk about his thoughts on the subject. “So. Tezuka Kunimitsu, a pro?” He frowned. The problem with that was that it wasn’t too far a stretch for him to imagine his rival in such a position. Tezuka was one of the better players that Keigo had ever been pitted against. But…

“That is such a bad idea,” Shishido declared, more than willing to give his opinion even though no one had really asked for it. He always did that, and usually Keigo found it irritating enough that he would comment on it, or jump in to have his say on the matter, just to put his team mate back in his place, but he was still busy trying to take in everything that Mukahi had told them so he failed to say anything.

Shishido was stretched out on the grass beside the stone bench that Keigo himself occupied, picking through his lunch. His dark brows had furrowed as Mukahi finished recounting what he had heard, and towards the end it was pretty clear that he was bursting to get his opinion out there.

He was running one hand through his long, dark hair, and Keigo recognized this for the jealousy indicator that it was. Shishido’s hair acted as a kind of ‘security blanket’ device for him. When feeling the need to reassure himself of his worth because of strong feelings of jealousy, Shishido fiddled with his hair, because—and this had been exactly what Shishido had told him when he’d asked him about it—he would always have the best head of hair, no matter what anyone else might have over him. “I know he’s been doing really well in the National tournaments, but is he really ready to dive into the ITF circuit? He’s going to get destroyed!” and he squeezed the grape nestled in his palm to illustrate his point, wiping the juice off on the sleeping Jiroh’s uniform pants.

Keigo laughed along with the others as he listened to his team mates dissecting Tezuka’s chances of actually breaking into the top ten seedings. None of them were being very generous with their comments, but he wasn’t about to discourage them by ordering them to play nice. He let them have their fun and occasionally contributed to the derogatory remarks on Tezuka’s skills.

Hyoutei students tended to exist within their own little sphere, set apart from those from different schools by the sense of privilege and superiority that their attending one of the most prestigious academic institutions in the country gave them.

A Hyoutei student who went on to become a success story—such as the former alumni who eventually founded the most high profile law firm in Japan, like Mukahi’s father, or became an award winning writer like Ohtori’s uncle—were to be revered and emulated. If it had been a former sempai from the Hyoutei club to go pro, then Keigo and the others would have been happy for him. There would have been no bad feelings or jealousy because a Hyoutei success story would reflect on all of them. Those who went on to do big things from rival schools were to be broken down, their achievements belittled, because Hyoutei would always turn out the best people. It was a proven fact.

Each one of his soon to be former team mates was going to be something. Keigo just knew it, just as he knew that he would make his mark in whatever field he chose. Even Shishido, who definitely still had some ego and ME ME ME issues had his looks and charm going for him. Oshitari and Mukahi, both suffered from separation anxiety if they were apart from each other for more than a few hours at a time, but they were strong willed and both very smart so Keigo was sure they would be able to work past that. Kabaji Keigo was a little worried about, but Kabaji had a rather well-connected family, so something was bound to turn up for him.

It unsettled Keigo when he allowed his thoughts to linger on the fact that there were going to be no more tennis club practices for him with these people, and that this was probably the last week that he would have his inner circle of close friends around him like this. They had been a big part of his life for so many years that it was hard for him to imagine being without them all. No more Shishido to tear away from the mirror before every practice, no more Kabaji to order around, or Jiroh to look out for to make sure that he didn’t fall asleep somewhere dangerous.

He was going to miss them all, as infuriating as they could be.

Of course he hadn’t told anyone this, but for the last month he’d made a point of inviting them to have lunch together when they usually broke off into smaller groups. It wouldn’t do to act like too much of a sap over such a small thing as leaving Hyoutei.

“He’s starting too old!” Shishido’s voice rose above the others, contributing to the low level roar of everyone else’s voices. He liked to dominate conversations whenever he could, and just this once Keigo allowed him to get away with it. He was feeling generous.

“He’s—what? Seventeen? That’s not old.”

“He’s eighteen, Oshitari. Most players start on the Juniors ITF circuit when they’re ten years old, or even younger! That way they get used to the way international tournaments go early on. Realistically he doesn’t have a chance. He should have just gone into it straight out of Junior High like that Echizen kid.”

“I don’t think a few years will make that much of a difference,” Mukahi piped in, immediately taking the side of his doubles partner. “I mean, look at you, Shishido. You’re going to be in Tokyo U for at least the next four years, but as long as you maintain your condition, I bet you could still make a decent go.”

“I don’t think so.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?” Shishido playing down his tennis skills? Wow. This whole graduation thing really was taking its toll on everyone, making them all soft and sentimental. Just the day before, when they’d picked up their year books together he’d caught Kabaji with a definite sheen of tears in his eyes and he hadn’t known how to deal with that so he’d left it up to Mukahi to cheer him up.

Shishido shrugged, tilting his face back so that he was looking up at his captain. “Tennis is not something that I’ll be considering as a profession. I figure it’s time for me to focus on taking my place in the old family business.” He replied. That family business being a successful chain of electronics stores, the largest of which was an Akihabara landmark. Shishido had never seemed particularly interested in it before. He’d spent a lot of time whining to Keigo about summers spent tagging behind his father so that he could see how things were run, so he wondered what had brought this turnaround about. He found out soon enough.

“Did the Lexus that you got for a graduation gift help nudge you towards that decision?” Mukahi asked wryly.

“I cannot be bribed with a simple car.” Shishido said loftily, sticking his nose up in the air like a stuck up bastard, but they were all used to that so Mukahi just snickered, reaching over and mussing up his perfectly styled dark hair until Shishido retaliated by pouncing on him and rubbing handfuls of grass into his head.

“I guess the ridiculous weekly allowance that your dad is giving you for just going on to University helped a lot.” Oshitari commented as he grabbed Shishido by his tie and pulled until Shishido was forced to roll off his doubles partner before he was strangled.

“It did,” He finally admitted with an unabashed, avaricious grin at Oshitari. He sank back down onto the spot that he’d abandoned. “My father convinced me that it was time for me to start being realistic about my future, and after I’d thought about it, I realized that he was right. I have a place here in Tokyo. They need me. Why should I take the risk with pro tennis where so many things could go wrong?”

“My parents didn’t even try to bribe me! They just told me I was going when I got my acceptance to UAP, and they didn’t give me a choice!” Mukahi complained, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout.

Ohtori sighed. His head was pillowed on his tennis team jacket, eyes were turned up to the sky. He was frowning, which was unusual, but Keigo knew that his imminent separation and the end of his doubles partnership with Shishido was hitting him hard. “Whatever happened to following your dreams?” he asked softly.

“I grew out of them. Like everyone eventually has to.” Shishido said gruffly, eyes on the ground as he pulled out large tufts of grass and threw them up into the air above Jiroh. The guy hadn’t stirred once since they’d settled down at their usual spot in the traditional Japanese gardens that separated the Middle School buildings from those of the High School.

“Well, I hope I never have to,” Ohtori murmured wistfully.

They had all known that this was coming, so it had been no big surprise to Keigo when an interview done by a reporter from the school paper had revealed that the seniors on the tennis club had no intention of pursuing a professional tennis career. Only Shishido had expressed any desire to try and continue playing in College, while the others had parroted the same ‘choosing to focus on my studies’ spiel, but now he’d apparently given even that up under pressure, or bribery, or most probably a combination of both that not even someone as hardheaded as Shishido Ryo could hold up under.

The reality of it was that fun and games ended once you left Hyoutei. Then the responsibilities, the future came down on you like a ton of bricks and before you knew it, it was time to step up and fulfill the role of dutiful son that had been waiting for them all.

Keigo—who had seemed the most likely to make it in the pro circuit—was even more tightly hemmed in by familial ties than the others.

Though his parents had given him his way in everything for the last eighteen years, it had been made very clear to him that tennis was not a proper career option for an Atobe, no matter how talented he may be. He could imagine the kind of things that had been said to Shishido, because he’d probably heard them all himself when he’d been given the lecture on letting go of childish things.

According to his father, he’d had the luxury to indulge in playing games in High School, but he was eighteen now and needed to focus all his efforts on building a strong base for his future career. In the end it was just far easier to give in to what his father wanted than to try and get his own way and suffer the consequences that would follow.

“I’m going to congratulate Tezuka the next time I see him,” Ohtori said cheerfully. The younger boy was always so sincere and good natured, only ever wishing the best for everyone and staying out of the ugly power struggles within the team and social hierarchies of Hyoutei. Keigo wondered sometimes how he’d ever escaped being beaten down by the over the top personalities and massive egos that dominated their school. He hoped that Ohtori would be able to maintain the same outlook without Shishido watching out for him, even if Keigo did think it a sign of weakness that Ohtori wasn’t as naturally ruthless in his dealings as the average Hyoutei student. All that really mattered was that he killed on court. “I think it’s great that he’s doing this! Imagine all the places that he’s going to see, all the people that he’s going to meet!”

“Tezuka Kunimitsu is a fool,” Keigo said. He had spoken quietly, but the chatter had died down enough at Ohtari’s pronouncement that his team mates had all caught his comment.

It was all too easy for Keigo to imagine what it would be like to become a professional tennis player and all the perks that it would bring. He’d spent a lot of time dreaming about it, and he knew that Shishido and Oshitari had too because they’d talked about playing professionally. It pissed him off that they would never get the chance to try their hand at it, because they deserved it, and it wasn’t even a question of skill. That was what bothered him the most.

He knew that the three of them played in the same level as that Tezuka or that brat Echizen. Keigo would even go so far as to say that he and his team mates surpassed the two in skill, flair and of course charisma—which admittedly had no bearing on one’s game, but which helped a lot when it came to creating a loyal fan base that would lead to endorsement deals.

There was nothing preventing them from going down the same path as those two but the high expectations that their families had for them, which was more important than any silly dreams that one might have about one’s future. As Shishido had said, it really was time to grow up. They were about to go into college, which would determine the course of their lives afterwards, and Keigo had every intention of following the standard, carefully laid out Atobe success plan. Atobes were expected to behave in a certain way after all, to follow a certain path, and to diverge from that would upset the whole scheme of things, which he wasn’t prepared to do. That would mean too many repercussions that he didn’t want to deal with.

Phase One was all but complete. Keigo was about to graduate with high honors from prestigious Hyoutei Gakuen, and Hyoutei opened doors to the best of Japan’s Universities and those abroad, as evidenced by the impressive list of schools that Keigo’s classmates had been accepted into. A majority of them—like Shishido—had opted for Tokyo University. A few had chosen foreign schools. Oshitari was going to be staying with some relatives as he attended New York University (much to Mukahi’s shock and dismay), and Keigo had chosen to follow an older cousin to the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology.

There Keigo would complete Phase Two; acquire a good, foreign education, before moving on to the last step of steadily making his way up the ranks of Atobe Industries. He would have to start out small, of course, so that he could prove his worth to the other employees and show them that his success wasn’t due to nepotism. Maybe he would take charge of one of the Ginza clothing boutiques, or a minor factory before working his way up to the family owned financial firms that his father presided over or the lucrative real estate dealings of his grandfather.

Then—once he was at least a junior executive—he could think about settling down with a nice girl. A girl from a good family who would be able to handle the running of his household and the social obligations that his status required him to attend. After a couple of years of marriage, they could try starting a family; two boys and a girl—in that order, who would all go to school in Hyoutei and who would all end up perpetuating the interminable cycle that the Atobes adhered to so faithfully.

It was a good plan. One that would end up making him a very successful and wealthy man, much like his father and grandfather before him. Keigo was happy with it too. It might not be what he’d originally intended for himself, but it was good enough. It had to be good enough.

Keigo’s family had always figured largely in his life. He’d been aware of what the Atobe name meant since he was a little boy, and he took the family’s high standards to heart. Because being an Atobe wasn’t all about the money, or the good looks, charm and intelligence that was passed down from generation to generation. There was a certain way that Atobes were expected to perform, certain things that they had to do, so he excelled in everything that he did because he knew that anything less than perfect was unacceptable. Mediocrity got you ignored. Rebellion and failure got very negative reactions while success was rewarded with expensive gifts and attention. Family would always be more important than anything else.

Family and his Hyoutei friends, who were all staring at him now. Even Jiroh, who’d been forced awake by Mukahi pinching his nostrils shut and covering his mouth until he woke up and jerked away. His eyes were still bleary, but they were definitely focused on Keigo now.

He felt forced to elaborate on what he’d said about Tezuka. He’d never been one to hold back when attacking someone’s character or abilities, so he knew his team mates were all expecting something more. “He’s damaged goods,” Keigo said, lip curling up into a derisive smirk. “He’s been injured before, and it won’t be long before that happens again with him having to compete with the kind of players in the circuit today. What an idiot! Thinking he actually has a chance!” and he laughed, throwing his head back and bracing himself with his hands on the bench.

“If anyone had a chance at all of all the players that I’d seen in our district, then I think it’d be you, sempai,” Ohtori commented innocently, loyal as ever and not realizing how deeply what he’d just said would cut.

Keigo hadn’t let anyone catch onto the fact that he was anything less than pleased about the direction that his life was taking. Although he’d always been resigned to the fact that he would be expected to put tennis on hold in favor of a college education, he had always half hoped that if he performed well enough then maybe his father would let him pursue a career in sports.

But that wasn’t happening, so he’d reacted in the anticipated manner when he’d received his acceptance letter to RMIT. He’d allowed himself to be hugged by his proud mother, and smiled stiffly as his grandfather and father had shaken his hand in congratulations. He’d spoken enthusiastically about his move to Australia with his team mates, not even admitting to Shishido that yes, the thought of living in an entirely different country with only his crazy cousin Isshi to watch out for him did indeed scare him.

Ohtori was looking at him expectantly, obviously waiting for him to say something in response to his show of faith, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. So Keigo just smiled, and ruffled Ohtori’s hair affectionately as he said “Thank you,” before he moved the conversation on to something else. Something less awkward, like the huge party for the entire senior class that he and Shishido were going to be throwing at the Shishido’s Denenchofu estate.

Keigo spent a lot of time there because he lived within the same exclusive community, and he and Shishido often ended up at either one of their houses after jogging along the tree lined streets of their subdivision, so he was able to vividly describe the house that Shishido grew up in—a very spacious home with a strange blend of traditional Japanese and Western architecture. This successfully turned the interest of his team mates towards Shishido, who was happy enough to start telling them of his plans for that night’s entertainment.

Soon tennis and was forgotten, pushed to the back of Keigo’s mind just as it should be, because Tennis was just a game, but being an Atobe was his life.

Tezuka might not have any better prospects in his future than playing some silly little sport, but Keigo would always have being an Atobe going for him, and he would always have his plan.

To Be Continued

Notes:

I’m not sure whether Hyoutei or Seigaku are one of those schools which had a corresponding High School that students can go directly into from Middle School, but I’m working under the assumption that that’s the case here. If anyone has any info on this, then that’d be great.

Comments and constructive criticisms would be greatly appreciated!