Tango Towards Destruction

Months of training and memorizing had finally brought them to this point in their life, and within five minutes, it would be all over. They would go home with inflated egos and a trophy as proof of their dancing skills while the others were left disheartened. It was completely futile to even compete against them; they were just too good.

The conductor tapped the stand in front of him before waving the baton back and forth, signaling the beginning of the song and the dance. The pair looked at each other and leaned in. The leader—male, of course—smirked while his partner mirrored his action. Victory was inevitable and defeat was inescapable.

Kick.

Snap.

Turn.

Lean.

As simple as the pattern was, it was enough to ensure their victory. With each little kick, the crowd grew loud. With each little snap, the judges nodded, approving of their actions. However, even with all their nearly impossible to surpass movements, one person could not be amused. And, that person would never, ever, be amused if their dance was performed like this.

The couple looked around the room after they finished their dance, hoping to have their eyes come across a certain dance instructor. Their faces lit up—the girl’s at least, the boy had barely shown his smile—when they had found a young woman standing in the corner.

“So, how were we?” the male inquired while trying to hide his nervousness. His instructor said nothing. It gave him a chance to look the one in front of him over: silky, well-kept locks with a healthy shine, orbs surrounded by eye-liner and eye shadow, and the body structure of a dancer. If it weren’t for the woman next to him, he would most certainly have asked her out on a date.

A long, slender finger pointed lazily at the 19-year-old female. “Your kicks weren’t sharp enough. Remember to react quicker when turning, it looked as if Sora was pushing you around.” The finger was then pointed at Sora, “Saya can’t always predict what you will do next. I don’t care if you have to tell her every little step, you must be sure she’s aware of your next action.”

Sora smirked despite the fact he had just been criticized as the leader of the dance. After knowing the woman in front of him for the past year, he was well aware that compliments were on their way.

“Got anything else to say, Miss ?” Sora asked, his tone borderline mocking.

“Your movements are too slow, not fluid enough,” his female instructor pointed out, surprising Sora with her lack of praise, “definitely not up to my standards. It’s almost embarrassing, really.”

Her words pierced through Sora’s arrogance and ego, crushing the barrier that separated him from a novice dancer. The teacher— —seemed to be pleased with the outcome of her rant (‘It’s high time he lost that ego,’ she thought). Sora stared down at his well-polished shoes and murmured what seemed like an apology for his lack of skill. Saya, not liking the fact her boyfriend was being told off, began to pick up the pieces of her partner’s pride, attempting to glue them back together with her words.

“How can you say that? We spent so much time and so much money just for these stupid lessons just for you to say we aren’t up to your standards?” she screamed into ’s face, “This is so stupid! Why am I even listening to someone like you anyway? You’re just some third-rate pretender! Face it; the only skills you’ve got are the ones you stole. You’re the worst there is!”

Flesh met flesh once more, but for an entirely different reason. Sora could only watch ’s rage grow, knowing that it was foolish to try anything. If the woman before them was angry, she would make sure the entire world knew.

“Do you really believe that?” asked, acid tied in with every syllable, “After all, when things like you are here, I could never be the worst. I doubt you even knew what a beat was until we told you, much less a proper tango. You’re better off playing dress-up in your mother’s closet.”

She stopped for a moment, as if realizing how her words obliterated the confidence of her student. Saya would have opened her mouth to retort, but soon found her instructor’s hand go to her-’s that is-own chest as a mocking laugh escaped her.

“Oh, sorry, you didn’t understand a word I said, did you? Let me rephrase it in words under three syllables: You have no talent as a dancer. You are expelled from my school,” her voice did not give away the malice, and one would perceive it as a friendly conversation if not for her cruel smile.

She walked out of the studio; passing by a rather amused Sora-he had walked away from the scene some time during your rant. Her anger dieing down immediately, a light-hearted laugh forced its way out.

“You’re in debt to me, you know that, right?” she asked, placing her feet firmly on the ground.

“Did you have to be so harsh? To me, that is?” he joked, pouting to add to the effect.

“You have no passion, dear, and neither does that idiot. In a tango, passion is all that matters. I thought I taught you that.”

“Like I could be passionate with her, not after I found out she was stealing my money.”

The conversation was dropped after the explanation. Sora held back a snicker when he saw his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend eyeing the two of them.

“Is she watching?” the shorter female-although not by much, she was quite tall for a woman-queried in excitement. When she saw the male around her age nod, she kissed his cheek, taking note of the light pink that sprinkled itself on her student’s face.

“Bet you that’s going to make her break up with you.”

The young sauntered away, mentally tying up the laughter inside as she heard screaming from Saya.

--------------------

“Miss , welcome home,” chorused her group of maids, butlers, etc. She greeted them back, surprising quite a few of them. Normally, the young woman would have just nodded and proceeded with her work, ignoring what many would label “the help”. However, they could not prevent themselves for just predicting her next sentence.

“Keep wasting time and I’ll fire you all.”

There it was.

walked to her study, wanting oh-so-badly to finish the book known as Wicked. It was a rather long book and her lack of fluency in English hadn’t helped. The English-Japanese dictionary had become one of her newest friends due to the book. She threw open the large wooden door almost as if she were making a grand entrance-which she technically was, but to an audience of none.

Books scaled the walls like Indiana Jones, a near replica of the library from Beauty and the Beast. The site of all the books left the arrogant woman in a state of utter tranquility. It had also been one of the few instances where nothing but a small little smile nested itself onto the rich woman’s face. It was not a smirk, nor a mocking smile. It wasn’t filled with diabolical schemes or hatred. It wasn’t bitter nor was it sad. The smile was simply a smile, nothing more, nothing less.

“Good day, I assume, Miss ?” asked an aging butler (‘, was it?’ she mused) as he poured a cup of tea.

“Of course,” her eyes glanced at the thin, ivory letter placed conspicuously on her desk. It stood out from the rest of her squeaky-clean ebony desk, not to mention bother her eyes with its bright white color.

“It arrived earlier today while you were at the competition. Perhaps it has to do with the school-”

“Hyoutei? Yes, it is from them.”

could only watch as his young mistress throw the document into the trash. He furrowed his eyebrows, wrinkles forming in the fleshy space between his eyes. It was apparent that she was not going to reply… again (she, unlike her humble CEO brother, had a tendency to brush off important things). The man sighed in exasperation; he was not about to let the woman he had lived to serve just ignore one of the prestigious schools in the entire country. With that in mind, he promptly picked up the small document before thrusting it into his master’s hands.

“,” she began, eyes questioning what drove him to insinuate any authority over her, “may I be so bold as to ask what you are doing?”

Neither of them had noticed the plethora of what jokingly called ‘servants’ gathered on the other side of the door. Whispers were traded among the maids and butlers, all fighting to see through the door that had lain ajar.

“’s actually going to tell her off?”

“Like anything’s going to happen. She’s in a good mood, remember?”

“But ’s acting like he actually has power over her!”

“Miss can be a brat, but there’s no way she’d fire someone like .”

“You’re only saying that because you want to get in her pants.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Miss , I implore you at least read what they have to say. There must be a reason the school has contacted you, and to ignore them just might cause the family name to crumble.”

rolled her eyes. “Upholding the family name is my brother’s job now, yes?”

“Miss -”

“My, my, look at the time. The soiree will start in an hour and I’m not ready? How ever will I look in front of the Natsume’s?” she murmured to herself, walking towards the second door out: the door that led to her room.

“Miss , promise me you will look at the letter!” called as she opened the door.

She paused for a moment, letting her fingers rest on the cool bronze of the handle. The maids and chefs and butlers outside leaned in closer to hear what the woman would say, all anxious to see what would happen. resisted his body’s screams to hesitate or fidget until he saw his mistress open her mouth.

“If it’ll stop you from nagging me.”

A sigh of relief nearly echoed in the room.

--------------------

“Do I really need to attend?” the irritated voice of the man infamous for his way of referring to himself groaned. His father sent him a stern, reprimanding look; the son responding with a soft sigh.

“Keigo,” his father scolded, adjusting his tie, “if we do not make an appearance we may lose potential business partners and such. And, we may just insult the Natsume’s if we’re absent.”

Atobe, the junior of course, raised a thin eyebrow. If it were concerning the Natsume family, they would be perfectly fine with his absence. They had allowed him to skip many times in the past seeing as the Natsume family couldn't care less about the Atobe family. It was strange indeed.

“Ah~h? The Natsume’s have never been concerned about us before.”

Atobe the elder finished adjusting his tie and turned to the son who was renowned in the sports world for his undeniably amazing prowess. Keigo stared back, crossing his arms defiantly.

“You do realize the Natsume’s own Hyoutei, yes [1]? Now, stop your whining and let’s go, and please refrain from using the term ‘Ore-sama’. You’re 21 years old for god’s sake.”

Atobe followed his father albeit reluctantly. He would grace the gathering with his almighty presence, but he made no promises of either enjoying or abandoning the pronoun he was so partial to. After all, an Atobe who didn’t use ‘Ore-sama’ was not an Atobe at all. However, he could not help feeling suspicious of his father’s odd reason for dragging him along.

--------------------

“Where is my dress?” barked, peeved that she was undoubtedly going to be late. Portions of her heart had fought to take over, wanting to reproach her for being so cruel and domineering. But, like always, she figuratively smacked her heart until she had gotten what she wanted.

A fear-stricken maid brought forth a dress, one that had looked ridiculously expensive. It was apparent that she was new, as she had really been afraid of the woman ranting in front of her. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman’s wrath. And this particular woman fit the bill completely. No, strike that, she exceeded it.

“What is this? That isn’t my Dolce & Gabbana dress at all!”

The maid apologized before rushing back to the closet. Another maid put a hand on her shoulder in order to comfort her.

“Is she always like this?”

“Only when she’s late for a party. She’s pretty charismatic when she’s not angry.”

The once terrified maid gave out a dry laugh, as did the other maid. When was their young mistress not angry these days? It seemed as if the stress from running the most famous dance academy in the country and the recent break-up had caused the woman to be much more irritated than usual.

“Even the almighty Miss can be dumped. Who knew-Aha! Here’s her dress!”

The second maid brought out the dress, calming down the wealthy girl in an instant. The rest of the women let out a breath of relief; maybe peace and quiet could be achieved in the manor at last.

“Damn it, my shoes!”

… Or not.

--------------------

The Atobe’s were most definitely not perturbed by the grandly furnished room. Atobe Keigo himself had a room grander than this, and was slightly disappointed by the lack of opulence the room held. He really was expecting more than four gigantic chandeliers made of diamonds/white gold, an indoor fountain that seemed to be a replica of Buckingham Fountain-though reasonably smaller, and a plethora of marble tables. He just prayed that what the Natsume family lacked in design, they made up for in cuisine. The Natsume’s were renowned for their impeccable taste in food, right? Right? He so hoped he was right.

“How long do we need to be here?” Atobe said, wanting very much to go back to his own home—actually, it was just a penthouse until he had graduated from college since he found no use for something too big if he lived on his own. Mind you, the penthouse was just as large as a two-story house.

“Why are you in such a rush? Does my son finally have a girlfriend he’s serious about?” his mother teased lightly, although hope was evident in her voice.

Atobe ignored his mother, knowing if he retorted it would only lead to more embarrassment.

“You really do need to find yourself a wife, dear. You’re not getting any-”

If not for his pride, he would have thanked god for interrupting his mother’s ridiculous rambling. Dark shades of blue flicked across the room until it landed towards the door, the area that had drawn so much attention. His ears picked up the whispers of the elderly, all pertaining to the pair who had just arrived fifteen minutes late.

“You know, I was wondering when they’d show up.”

“I’m surprised that they didn’t have their own band play a song when they came in like last time.”

“That’s probably because is with her rather than that Suoh boy [2]. Really, I thought no one could have been more flamboyant pair than those two. Not even that Atobe fellow.”

“Although, that music was amazing. I assume had someone write it just for her? She does love the tango more than anything else, right?”

More flamboyant than he? A small shake of the head drained the thought from his mind. No one could beat him when it came to ostentatious and brazen actions. It was what had given him the right to refer to himself with the most confident and noble pronoun! There couldn’t possibly be anyone who could outdo him in that category, much less a pair of idiots he’d never seen before.

However, one look at the pair shrieked he was wrong. The male had given off vibes that only a commoner could give off, nothing like the wealthy that had gathered today. Another look at the dark-haired male—who, by the way, seemed to only be in his 30’s—told him that he was as prosperous as everyone else in this gathering. Perhaps he was like Atobe’s fellow tennis athlete, Choutarou: Humble to the core, but still conveys his status through objects or speech. Atobe truly wanted to know how such a well-respected man could ignore his wealth as if it were nothing but ridiculous pieces of paper.

“So sorry were late, you wouldn’t believe the chaos going on in our home,” the woman apologized publicly, trying to draw attention to the two of them. Needless to say, it worked.

Unlike the man, she had given off an aura that rivaled a certain Atobe. She reveled in the attention being brought to her, whether it was because of her exquisite dress or for her rather unique ways of entering. Something about the woman had made everyone briefly compliment her, almost as if they were forced to do so. Not that anyone could blame them; it was almost as if she was giving off signals that she owned and ruled over them.

Atobe blinked; the way she had arrived was much like his own behavior. Her speech and mannerisms-they were all similar to his. It had amused him, actually. He laughed silently, reaching for his phone. Immediately, he began snapping pictures of the egoistical woman, glad that his parents were conversing with the others. Seconds later, a text message—“What do you know about this woman?” it said—was composed with the picture attached and sent the message to several of his close friends.

Those friends being the infamous Hyoutei Regulars.

Normally he would have gone up and talked to her without anyone’s consent, but the last time he had attempted to court a woman of his status, he had found himself staring down a large, muscular Yakuza member who was ready to punch the living daylights out of the Atobe Corporations’ heir [3]. It was most certainly not an experience he would’ve liked to live through twice.

He drummed his fingers against the marble table while he waited for at least one of the males to reply to his text. He wasn’t disappointed, a total of seven messages now in his inbox.

. –Kabaji

Atobe snorted. All Kabaji knew was her name? It seemed as if the man was inarticulate even in text messaging.

Don’t know her. -Hiyoshi

He let out a disapproving sound. It looked like Hiyoshi didn’t know a thing.

You actually need help with a girl? Who knew? –Shishido

The annoyance grew into something the size of the wad of cash currently inside his bank account. Shishido had taunted him rather than helped him. It was typical of Shishido to be more sardonic than useful, unfortunately.

You’re dating her? HA! Good luck with that! XD -Gakuto

Now this was an interesting message, aside from the fact his dating skills were being doubted again (“As if they have room to talk,” Atobe mumbled). What did Gakuto know about her? He ignored the text and read the others’ before he went back to the acrobatic athlete’s.

She’s really cute! ^O^ –Jirou

And they were back to the idiocy. Of course she was cute, Jirou, Atobe wouldn’t have sent pictures if she wasn’t. Honestly, even after ten years or so, the boy was as clueless and childish as ever.

Isn’t that the sister of , the CEO of Twilight Records? She recently broke up with her boyfriend, if that helps. –Choutarou

Out of all the messages thus far, Atobe deemed the silver-haired male’s the most valuable. It was expected of Choutarou to be one of the only helpful ones. With his text message, he could easily have his people find out more about the woman, increasing his chances of capturing her for himself. It was only a matter of time before became his woman.

“Ah~h? One more message?” Atobe muttered curiously. He debated whether or not to open said message if he had the information he already needed. After a literal three seconds, he opened the text and twitched visibly.

I can’t wait to see how the kids turn out. -Oshitari

He jammed the phone into his pocket.

--------------------

“Remind why we’re here again, dear brother,” said through a convincing fake laugh.

gave his younger sister a look of disappointment. “The Natsume’s have helped us greatly, . We wouldn’t be where we are without them.”

“Send them a fruit basket and be done with it,” the smile stayed stubbornly on her face as she greeted the men and women nearing them, having already left to greet his own business partners and friends. Her right hand tucked a stray hair behind her ear as she waited for the woman behind her to whisper the names of the people.

“Left to right: Kira Natsume, Kai Natsume, and Shin Natsume. They…um…were the ones who had helped you establish the academy?”

made a mental note to either fire the assistant standing behind her or just demote her to maid again. If she had made a mockery out of herself because of inaccurate information, there most certainly would be hell to pay. Her reputation was a thing she held dear, and she would not allow anything to destroy it.

“The Natsume’s! Wonderful to see you again, I missed your company!” she exclaimed in faux glee, her assistant biting her lip in order to prevent herself from laughing. If dancing wasn’t ’s forte, it must have been acting.

The spoiled princess began to chat with the three hosts of the party, a half-hearted chuckle and smile thrown in every once in a while. It was painfully clear that the Natsume’s were unaware of her annoyance with their family, as no hostile feelings escaped them. Said annoyance grew, for the two men and one woman would not stop opening their mouths.

“Hate to be rude, but I must excuse myself,” she said casually, finally breaking. Again the trio was oblivious to her reluctance to be at their get-together.

began ‘exploring’ the area despite the fact she was already well aquatinted with the place. She ignored the comments being thrown at her, deaf to all. Right now, all she wanted to do was break free of this prison and go back to the academy. Unfortunately, even the house forbade her to leave as the balcony jutted out before her.

“Aryll, is it possible to just leave now without ?” she called over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

“Glad to see I am not the only one not enjoying myself,” a male’s voice chuckled, his voice smooth and arrogant.

turned around quickly, almost losing balance because of her stilettos. A rather ignorant part of he had hoped her assistant had somehow obtained the skill to lower her voice several octaves, but was shooed away immediately.

“Ah~h?” Atobe refrained from laughing, she truly was like him, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

He bowed, introducing himself in a grand fashion. With ’s strange mind, she had perceived the action as a challenge of egos. Not one to back down from any sort of challenge, spoken or unrequited, she responded with her own name, ejecting enough conceit to rival the boy before her.

They spoke to each other in high-and-mighty tones, neither lacking in self-esteem. In fact, one could say both of them had too much for their own good. But there was no such thing as too much for these two wealthy idiots; it was blasphemous. Hours had been spent on subjects ranging from literature to hobbies, from movies to paparazzi. Unmotivated arguments were thrown at each other only because of their prides.

And yet, despite the unspoken rivalry between their egos, they couldn’t help being entertained by each other.

--------------------

Atobe climbed into his limousine after his father and mother, a bored look bound to his face. His fingers nestled themselves in his hair after brushing a few strands away from his eyes. There seemed to be no trace of the excitement that shone in his eyes earlier when he talked to , only a boredom that exceeded a normal boredom-he surpassed anything normal after all.

“Was it truly a horrible experience, Keigo?”

He barely glanced at his mother before answering with a “Not extremely.”

Both his parents let out a sigh. Maybe their son hadn’t seen the young girl they had secretly wanted him to meet. It was a shame; the two would make for an interesting pair.

“Drop me off at the penthouse,” Atobe ordered airily, waving his hand at the driver. His eyes wandered outside the window until he caught sight of the woman he had spoke to earlier. He barely held back a smirk when her head snapped up, knowing something was watching her.

Quite the woman, that .

Needless to say, he could hardly wait until he had his people look up everything about his female counterpart. Maybe, just maybe, this girl was different from all the others he had come across.

--------------------

“Thanks for inviting us.”

“Nonsense, ! Your family is always welcome with us.”

gagged, knowing the tinted windows hid her expression. After hours of torture—the last few actually being a pleasure—they had finally left the Natsume residence. Of course, , being the gentleman he was, had decided to make small talk with one of the Natsume’s. She really didn’t know which one he was talking to; it was her assistant’s job to identify people after all.

“It was nice to see you again, . Take care now!”

Finally, the male entered the stretch limousine, a sigh of exaggerated relief coming from his sister. stared at the woman sitting opposite him. Her legs were crossed while her arms had done the same, a rather haughty pose that fit a woman like her. As her eyes traveled to a limousine that looked as grand as the one she was occupying, her fingers wrapped around the glass that held an apple martini. She brought it to her lips, sipping casually, obviously not noticing her brother eyeing her.

“You look happy.”

She raised an eyebrow, still gazing intently out the window. “Really now? Maybe it’s because this entire thing is finally over.” When her brother had only smiled, she finally turned to look at him. “Now what’re you smiling about?”

“You’re so cute when you lie about things,” commented in a nonchalant manner, resting his head in his hand. His comment earned him an ice cube to the forehead—not that he cared. It was almost as if the ice cube was just air when it contacted with his flesh. “I feel insulted if you can’t even tell your own brother this secret.”

She threw another ice cube at his face.

--------------------

The ride home was a quiet one, save for the occasional commands coming from the ever-so-bossy woman. Unlike all the other times, though, her orders were not as rude and discourteous. It was yet another sign of her good mood. prayed that the mood was permanent; he was getting tired of her bratty attitude. Well, not entirely tired of it. The attitude made who she was and a sudden change would just kill—Oh, they arrived.

“Welcome home, Master , Miss .”

“Mm, yes, hello.”

Again the staff was brought into a word of shock as the latter of the two spoke. They had thought for sure her mood would worsen after the gathering, but they were proved wrong.

“Aryll, be a dear and look up some fool named Keigo Atobe,” said placidly, walking towards her study. Her maid-turned-assistant quickly ran over to the nearest computer and looked up the man in question. She printed out several articles worth mentioning and reported them to her boss.

“Already? I’m surprised,” shooed the younger girl away afterwards, wanting to be absolutely alone when she read the papers. Her eyes skimmed each paper, only reading the complete page if it had sparked her interest.

Tennis star? Charming. And what’s…this…?

“! Get me that letter from Hyoutei right now!”

“Yes, madam!”

The elderly man soon returned with the think envelope in his hands, presenting it to her with the utmost respect. She grabbed it and tore it open with the envelope opener and tossed the things aside. laughed quietly at the girl’s actions. She looked absolutely adorable reading the letter; almost like a well-pampered squirrel!

“Well, Miss?”

She placed the letter on her desk and blinked owlishly. “They want me to teach their entire graduating class ballroom dances.”

“That’s wonderful! Hyoutei only recruits the best!”

“Don’t they realize I have my own school to run? Oh, whatever, this will probably give it more publicity anyway.”

“You’re accepting?” asked. Despite his cheer from earlier, he was expecting a huff of disapproval and other signs of haughty nature, but what she had done was far from what he had grown accustomed to.

“Well of course. Now, go and make the response for me. I would myself, but I’m worn out.”

stumbled his way out, completely shocked. Did this really happen? Did the infamous, devil-may-care woman actually accept a teaching job at another school? Did she actually do it willingly?

watched in amusement as walked away. No doubt he was contemplating the sudden change in her behavior.

Why had she accepted the request again?

One look at the other papers and she remembered.

“I wonder how well Keigo Atobe can dance.”

-------------------

Atobe looked intently at the computer screen, reading every little detail, much like his female counterpart was doing—not that he knew. He was right when he had said she was quite the woman; 21, still in school, and already she owned one of the most prominent performing art schools in the entire world (she has several of the staff members from Julliard video tape the classes in New York), and this was all after her short (yet very prosperous) career as an actress. In addition to this, she had won every dance competition she had entered, as did a good 74% of her students. It seemed as if defeat was not a word in her vocabulary. This woman was easily a person one such as Keigo Atobe would respect greatly.

As he read, he found various comments that were usually directed at her: a spoiled brat and an arrogant narcissist with the all the skills needed to back her up. This was clearly the reason Gakuto had been so blatantly negative with his comment.

“I believe Gakuto has proposed a challenge.”

And Keigo Atobe never backed down from a challenge.

--------------------

Mornings are often personified as horrible things, what with the chores of getting up and such. However, on certain occasions it may be considered a good thing (waking up from your slumber). Such days would often involve the last day of school or Christmas. Birthdays can also be categorized as a time where waking up would be great. Even waking up from a coma would be wonderful.

Waking up for work and or school?

Not so great.

Unless, of course, you just so happened to be hired as a dance teacher for one of the best schools ever created while gaining the opportunity to enhance your own school’s popularity and having a high chance of seeing a large amount of charming young men while doing so. Then it might be worth it.

“Miss , good morning.”

gave a curt nod of the head towards the maid who had spoken. She blinked at her action, though continued cleaning soon afterwards. It was apparent that the mistress would be in a good mood for quite some time— had been courteous enough to actually tell everyone about Hyoutei. The staff would enjoy the peace while it lasts!

“Do you know if ’s contacted the schools?”

“Hyoutei has been notified of your response and Principal Nagi will be observing the students’ progress while doing his work.”

“Perfect.”

After taking a shower and changing into something simple—simple being an understatement, she was wearing designer clothing and labeled it “casual”—she went down into the breakfast room. As usual, was typing away while speaking to one of his associates on the phone. He sent his sister a side-ways glance before dismissing the one on the phone.

“You really need to stop doing that to your partners,” the younger of the two taunted carelessly, a maid handing her a plate of food.

“The man never talks about work; all he ever does anymore is rant about his trophy wife.” [4]

smiled. “Ah, but you keep him around. Therefore he’s important to the company.”

“This is coming from the woman who wanted to send the family who supported us a fruit basket,” replied wryly. He was answered by a hair flip and smirk.

“Do you think Hyoutei will mind if I pay them a little visit?” she queried mischievously, resting her head in her palm. Her brother gave her a weird look; he hadn’t exactly expected her to say anything else after the fruit basket retort.

“No why in god’s name would you visit that school?”

’s eyes widened; she really thought someone had told him by now. “You mean, didn’t tell you? Starting next week, I’ll be teaching dance at Hyoutei until the seniors graduate.”

nearly choked on his coffee; chortled at his reaction. It was so painfully obvious that he’d do it, but it amused her anyway. Still, nothing could top the time when she ****** his ****** and then ****** with a ***** when they were younger. Ahh, good times, good times.

“Well, I’m off. Don’t choke on the rest of your food!” disappeared through the large white doors, keys to her Porsche twirling in her hand. She would have taken a different car, but she wouldn’t want to overwhelm the others with her presence. At least, she didn’t want to overwhelm them yet. She did have half a year to do so, after all. And it was obvious that they would be awed by her marvelous appearance.

After roughly half an hour’s worth of driving—she had stopped by a few places that were on the way—she finally arrived in front of the grand school known as Hyoutei, more specifically the college campus.

“Nice,” she muttered, hypnotized by the grand architecture. When people claimed Hyoutei was the best, they surely weren’t mistaken. Fountains and gardens, ponds and statues; one would think it was an estate if it weren’t for the uniformed students roaming around. ’s eyes were dancing across the rainbows of hair, a smirk bursting forth on her lips when she saw the males of the school. It would have been better if the uniforms weren’t so atrocious, but they were wonderful eye candies nonetheless.

“Very nice.”

It only got better when a sex god a blue-haired deity one of the handsome students—the authoress had grown tired of the strike html—looked her way. However, she forced herself to ignore him. As good-looking as he was, was here on business and business alone. God only knew how many times she had chanted that in her mind as more and more male students ogled her.

While struggled to keep her hormones in check, the student who was once staring at her turned his head back to his friend.

“Is that who I think it is?” the male formerly known as the tensai of Hyoutei asked, jerking his head towards . And anyone who knew Oshitari would know the little bouncing frog he was talking to was his long-time friend: Gakuto Mukahi.

“I can’t see, Yuushi! Move your ass over!” he complained in mid-air.

“Then use your acrobatics,” Oshitari suggested sarcastically, not moving an inch.

By the time Gakuto had heeded his words, though, the woman had already disappeared. The red acrobatic pouted as if he were a child again and crossed his arms. The only thing he had been able to see was a pair of Jimmy Choo wedges—ones that were very stylish, expensive, and undoubtedly uncomfortable if they were worn for over three blocks’ worth of walking.

… Hmm… maybe he did need to grow if all he could see was a pair of shoes.

“So who was it?”

Oshitari took a cell phone out of his pocket, opening the last text message he had received from Hyoutei’s king. Gakuto raised an eyebrow at his friend’s actions, waiting impatiently for the tennis genius to tell him the name of this mystery woman.

“Damn it, Yuushi, stop texting and tell me who-” The phone was shoved into the short gymnast’s face. “…THAT WAS HER!?”

“Now, should we tell the king that his queen has arrived?”

Gakuto smirked that froggy little smirk of his, “Of course.”

--------------------

rolled her eyes as she examined her meticulously clean French-manicured nails. How long had she been standing in the doorway, five minutes? No, surely it must have been an hour! Whatever the case, the headmaster of Hyoutei wasn’t paying attention to her. That, my dears, is a large offense.

“Is it common for someone your stature to ignore someone of mine?”

The aged man looked up, surprised by the sudden intrusion of his privacy. He fumbled with the papers in front of him while trying to retain his wits. The headmaster was most certainly not intimidated by people like , especially if he was forced to cope with a certain Atobe. Of course, now that there were two spoiled dogs, he may just have to see a psychiatrist. And a therapist. And his doctor.

“Miss , I thought we agree that your tutelage does not start until tomorrow.”

Said woman smiled smugly, “Yes, but I felt the need to acquaint myself with the layout of the school. It’d be a shame if I had gotten myself lost.”

“If you are going to scout the area, then please do so with discretion. Our students must be-”

“Yes, yes, I understand. Really, you need to stop being such a fuddy-duddy and let your students enjoy the marvelous teacher they’re about to have.”

Not even letting the old man retort, left without saying another word—which was probably better in the man’s opinion. He groaned, burying his fingers in his thinning hair; he just may not survive at all with two Keigo Atobe’s.

-------------------

“Did you see that chick earlier today? Y’know, the one with the huge fanclub following her?”

“How could we miss her?”

“Doesn’t she remind you of someone?”

“Totally. She acts exactly like-”

Atobe’s ability to hear the conversation was soon cut short when a blur of red (quite literally) flew in front of him. Atobe felt no need to put down his book, a thick piece of English literature that didn’t look at all easy to understand. Only eight—no make that seven—people would have the gall to interrupt him, and only one had red hair.

“Gakuto,” he began, irritated, “what in the world are you trying to do?”

“If you’re going to be so hostile, than we may just not tell you an interesting bit of information,” Oshitari soon cut in, giving Atobe his trademark grin.

“I’m Keigo Atobe, I know everything. What could you possibly know that I don’t?” he questioned, raising a confused eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing really important,” Gakuto remarked in a nonchalant voice, folding his hands behind his head as Oshitari finished his sentence.

“Just that is here and nearly everyone is ogling her.”

The doubles pair waited for their almighty captain to race out of the library, preferably through the window, and blind every male on campus with some odd gadget so only he could enjoy the beauty known as . When Atobe did nothing they hoped he would do, it raised both confusion and suspicion. Either he was amazing at concealing his true emotions, or he really didn’t care much for his so-called queen. That, or he was so paralyzed by anger he couldn’t even talk/move.

“Atobe?” Gakuto questioned hesitantly.

“Ah~h?”

That ruled out the “paralyzed by anger” option.

“Aren’t you going to do anything?”

“One woman isn’t going to affect a man like me,” Atobe replied, rolling his eyes.

And that eliminated the first option too.

“You know, you’d be much more fun if you acted like a normal human being.” The redhead and his blue-haired god left soon after the comment, the latter of the two noticing the white of their king’s knuckles.

Maybe that first option was somewhat accurate.

-------------------

stared at the name glaring at her from the screen of her iPhone. If she accepted, the call her oh-so-wonderful surrogate father () would have blasted off her ear, but if she ignored the call, her ear would have been blasted off anyway later on. It was a lose-lose situation, but since needed her five senses for the next hour…

The phone went back into her Prada tote.

“My fun is more important right now, hun, don’t take it personally.”

“Holy hell,” a male voice spoke from behind her, shocking her the smallest bit, “you really are the female Atobe.”

The accused looked at the accuser: messy brown hair kept under a baseball cap (‘or is that called a beanie?’ she pondered), sharp and taunting dark eyes, and a (random) bandage on the left side of his forehead. She had to admit it; the boy looked damn fine for someone who had nearly frightened her, something she was not to keen on repeating (the shocking).

“Ah~h? Was that an attempt at an insult?” Both the capped-man and the tall silver-haired male behind him bit back a laugh; she even had the same speech pattern as their beloved captain.

“Please don’t be offended. We just heard you were here and thought you would need help finding your way around,” ‘Silver’, as she dubbed him, spoke gently, smiling the entire time.

“If you could just show me to your dance studio, then that would be fine,” she had nearly scared herself again when she fo