"Find ones worthy of Ore-sama, ahnn~"

Aomine winced, almost dropping new basketball shoes he picked for himself. 'That voice?' he thought as he turned around to see the owner. Voice too similar to his own, it crept him out almost as if someone was to beat him at basketball. 'Because it could never happen.'

He blinked few times trying to find the source, he excluded the girls around and it left him with three guys who were there.

"Ore-sama doesn't care about the price."

Tall, but not quite as himself, man with cobalt, vivid eyes was standing few meters from him eyeing pair of tennis shoes. He was dressed fancy, something Aomine would never pick for himself.

"You over there." suddenly this man, whoever he was, was talking to him. "Ore-sama knows Ore-sama's gorgeous, but Ore-sama's not gay, so stop your staring."

Aomine smirked, 'What an arrogant, little pest.' "Tch, spoiled diva. Who would even be attracted to you." he raised his head high, because he WAS Aomine Daiki afterall.

This time it was Atobe who widened his eyes, 'Was that guy mimicking Ore-sama's voice?' .

"Are you mocking Ore-sama?" he hissed, now angry.

"Why would I? Stop using my voice, faggot. You appear and think you can tell me off. I'll tear your head off."

Atobe blinked, confused. This might be the very first time someone threatened him but that fact bothered him a little. What was really disturbing for Hyotei's king was that this guy- this very rude and uncivilized, not to mention no fashion sense at all, guy had exact replica of his voice. He didn't know whether this was some prank to irritate him, but guy could pull his voice without even trying.

"Ore-sama has been talking like this, since Ore-sama's been born."

Aomine blinked, none of this made sense. He scratched his ear staring at hideous diva in front of himself.

"You're from here?" he asked after some time.

Atobe raised an eyebrow "Don't you know who Ore-sama is?"

'Is he serious?'

"Hahahahah. Am I supposed to know? It's you who's supposed to know who I am."

'Everyone heard of Generation of Miracles at least. If he's acting like that he should know. Not that I care.'

"Ahnn~, if someone paid you to imitate Ore-sama, you should know- Ore-sama's much more handsome, not to mention Ore-sama has class." and he looked plain white shirt that Aomine wore, and pants "That rag you're wearing is something Ore-sama would never touch."

Aomine didn't know whether he was pissed off, or just plain amused.

"Hotter than me? Take a look at yourself, compared to me you're short and not to mention this great tan I have. Well, you don't..."

Atobe went to say something but was cut off by Aomine who wanted to keep talking.

"If you're talking shit, let's play ball. Once I crush you, you'll know your place." he pointed to a ball he always carried around and spun it on his finger easily. Atobe did seem amazed for a second, but it probably just was that he was plainly amused. I mean, he IS Atobe, who except his gorgeous self, could amaze him?

"I'm not playing basketball. It doesn't fit with Ore-sama's refined tastes."

Aomine narrowed his eyebrows "Are you trying to butt your way out? Everyone plays basketball." he then blinked, like a 1st grader after realizing something. "Oh, I get it. You know who I am and you're afraid. After all, the only one who can beat me is me." he exclaimed.

"Well, don't you have confidence?" Atobe smirked, finding that this being not only has the same voice but that attitude matched.

"Ore-sama's telling the truth. Ore-sama doesn't play basketball, but the sport for kings. Tennis. "

"What? Tennis? That's so...gay, gahh."

"What?"

"You heard me, diva boy."

"Are you telling Ore-sama that tennis is more gay than basketball while the latter includes sweaty monkey touching each other?"

"Watch it." Aomine grunted.

"How come something like you, has the same voice as Ore-sama ahnn?"

Would anyone want me to continue this?

Like a short story or something?