Chapter One

"Play a match with me."

Atobe Keigo, captain of the Hyotei tennis team, blue eyes, black hair, and charismatic to the core, arched a brow in disbelief. He took another long sip of his water, and studied the boy in front of him. It was a freshman. He'd transferred to the school a few weeks ago, and had signed up to be a member of the tennis club.

Atobe hadn't paid him much mind. He didn't even know the kid's name.

What was the point, if he was just a puny freshman?

"Excuse me?" Atobe asked.

"Play a match with me," the freshman pointed his racquet out in a very cocky manner, which had Atobe's lips tightening. "I want to play you."

"Look," Atobe capped his bottle, and stood up. "I don't have time for this." He glanced up. "Hey, Kabaji? Go find this freshman some job to do. Like gathering tennis balls."

He whirled around to go take a shower, but apparently the freshman didn't know how to handle rejection. A hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, giving it a tug. Atobe's brow twitched and he turned to give him a hostile glare. "Is there something you'd like?" He churned the words out slowly and heavily.

The freshman looked keen. He had the oddest shade of gold eyes, challenging and lit.

"My name's Echizen Ryoma," his bottom lip curled. "Have a match with me."

"Practice is over," Atobe yanked his hand away. "And don't go around touching people. You might have germs."

Ryoma just peered up at him. Atobe took this moment to look at him properly. He was short and lean, with golden skin and slanted hazel eyes. He'd gotten a medium-sized Hyotei jersey, but that had obviously been too big on him, because the sleeves drooped down past his hands, and the bottom of the jacket dragged low.

"Why won't you play a match?" Ryoma said, and he drew out the words, long and sharp."Running away?"

Now, Atobe was starting to feel irritated. Who was this freshman, anyway? Even seniors didn't clamber up to him all arrogant and pushy, and now this Ryoma kid thought he had the right to do so? He was obviously new. Any other member would know to back off after being told twice, especially by someone as popular as Atobe.

Atobe decided to take pity on his lack of knowledge. "Do you know who I am?"

Ryoma scratched the back of his neck. "Heh. You're the captain, right?"

A slow nod. "Yes. But do you know who I am, exactly?"

The freshman squinted. "No. But you look like a Monkey."

This kid was crossing the line. Badly. Atobe willed himself to stay calm. "I'm Atobe Keigo, heir of the Atobe Company. I'm rich," he emphasized. "I rule over two hundred people, and can get away with practically anything. I'm the only exception to the universal Hyotei rule of getting kicked off once a game is lost. I'm…"

"I don't see the point of this," Ryoma said blandly. "Do you want me to bow down, or something?"

"No," Atobe grit his teeth. "I'm just saying it wouldn't be wise to treat me in such a way."

"What way?" Ryoma grinned cheekily. "Do you want me to treat you like a king instead?"

Atobe couldn't help but feel as if he was being mocked. He smoothed out his shirt, and pressed out, "Yes. Actually, that's the way most treat me. But if don't think you can't handle that, it's best that you just stay out of the way." He narrowed his eyes. "You're only a freshman. I don't see where you're getting all this nerve."

Ryoma leaned back, racquet locked behind his elbows. "Okay," he said. He added, after a moment, "I think I'll call you Monkey King."

Atobe slumped his shoulders. This kid just didn't get it. He didn't understand who he was talking to. Resigning to cut the conversation off where it had started, Atobe straightened out his shirt once more, and headed for the opposite direction. "This ends here. Go pick up balls with the other freshman."

Ryoma frowned. "So I guess you are running away."

He's only trying to provoke you, Atobe reminded himself. Besides, he really didn't have the energy to play a match right now. It was a hot day, the courts rolling in waves of heat, the sky filled with humid that matched the inside of an oven. He glanced back at Ryoma, who was heading away, jersey tight around his body. Wasn't he hot in that? He was probably sweating buckets, soaked in perspiration and – Atobe shuddered.

Some people just didn't understand.

And what was with that attitude?

It was wholly disgraceful.

Atobe shook his head, shoved the remainders of Echizen Ryoma out of his mind, and headed for the showers. He didn't have time to think of such minor matters, or, better said, minor people.

"Hey, Jiroh?"

Atobe clipped a towel around his waist, and took out his moisturizing lotion. He lathered a big glop over his right leg. "Have you heard of Echizen Ryoma?"

He didn't know why he'd brought it up. He just felt so frustrated by the way Ryoma had been so unaffected by his presence, like he didn't have a care in the world that he was talking to someone that could ruin his chances of getting into university. Not that he would do that, ever. He wasn't that cruel.

But it still made him boil.

Jiroh rubbed his eyelids, having just woken up from a long nap. "Huh? Dunno. He…the freshman?" his words were disjointed from sleep. "I think Oishitari said he was a new member, just signed up…" Jiroh lifted his shoulder in a shrug, and thunked his head back down on the bench to welcome more slumber.

"I know that," Atobe said. "Is he any good?"

Jiroh groaned. "How am I supposed to know?" he lifted his brow, and a lazy smile spread to his cheeks. "What, has he caught your interest?"

"Hardly," Atobe nearly choked. "He's bratty. He came up and demanded a match."

"So just tell him no," Jiroh said. "No big deal."

"Yes, but – " Atobe ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. You don't understand, he wanted to say. He had this attitude… "He was just rude." Atobe slipped his school shirt over his chest, taking a glance at himself in the mirror. He smiled at his mole, a sign of his beauty. As usual, he looked truly handsome. "I suppose it doesn't matter."

"No, it doesn't," Jiroh sounded mischievous now. "But now that I think about it, I do remember Oishitari mentioning that the new freshman was pretty cute…" A laugh escaped from the back of Jiroh's throat. "Are you sure he hasn't caught your eye, Atobe-sama?" More chuckles and guffaws from his so-called friend.

Atobe rigidly turned away. "I'm certain," he said. "Now if you'd excuse me…"

He was just about to leave the club room door, when a warm body hit his chest. Atobe took a step backwards, and felt the air suck out of him. Well, if it wasn't Echizen Ryoma himself, towel around his neck, eyes wide and unblinking. "Move," Atobe said, harshly, wishing he could just go home now. He really needed to sit in the bath and think.

"You should use your manners," Ryoma clucked his tongue mockingly. He slid past him. "See you tomorrow."

Atobe's shoulders stiffened. See you tomorrow? He was acting like they were friends. Like they were on the same level as each other. Ridiculous.

Atobe turned around, ready to threaten this freshman that Kabaji would beat him up, when he heard Jiroh yell:

"Man, Oishitari was right! He is cute."

Closing his eyes, Atobe took a deep breath, and saved himself further embarrassment by walking calmly out of the club room, and then, once out, speeding up his pace, until he was sprinting down the sidewalk and demanding a limo pick him up and deliver him to his house.