Bedtime Stories - Prince of Tennis - Oneshot

“Keigo-sama, was there a reason why you called me in here?”

“Ah, Kuririn-chan. Yes, ore-sama did call you in here for a reason,” he said and pushed himself off his study desk and walked over to his bookshelf. He picked a book off the shelf and handed it to Kuririn.

“What is this Keigo-sama?” she asked as she turned the book around in her hands, studying it. Something in German or some equally alien language to her was written across the cover. Atobe did a graceful flop onto his bed and motioned Kuririn to come closer, patting the empty space beside him. She sat down on the bed.

“Read to ore-sama.”

“This might come as a shock, but I don’t understand German,” she said.

“Flip the book around, there is a Japanese translation on the other side.”

Kuririn did so. “Ah, The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang van Goethe.”

“Yes, Goethe. Die Leiden des jungen Werthers,” he said in perfect fluent German.

“Right, of course,” she said and flipped the book open to the first chapter and proceeded to do as she was told. She started reading the first paragraph. “‘How happy I am that I am gone! My dear friend, what a thing is the heart of man!’”

Atobe closed his eyes and made himself comfortable next to her as she continued to spout sentences she barely understood because of how deep the stuff she was reading was. “‘To leave you, from whom I have been inseparable, whom I love so dearly, and yet to feel happy! I know you will forgive me. Have not other attachments been specially appointed by fate to torment a head like mine? Poor Leonora! And yet I was not to blame.’”

“No, no, no,” Atobe suddenly spoke up and Kuririn stopped to look at her picky young master. “You read that sentence wrongly. It should be read as “‘Die arme Leonore! Und doch war ich unschuldig.’”

“Sorry, Keigo-sama,” she said and re-read that last sentence the way her young master wanted it to be read. She tried her best to imitate the expressions and the tone he had used in Japanese, “‘Poor Leonora! And yet I was not to blame. Was it my fault, that, whilst the peculiar charms of her sister afforded me an agreeable entertainment, a passion for me was engendered in her feeble heart? And yet am I wholly blameless?’”

“No, Kuririn-chan. That sentence was also wrong. Werther is trying to tell Wilhelm that he himself was not to be blamed. You should express out his frustration at being wronged. It should be something more like, ‘Konnt' ich dafür, daß, während die eigensinnigen Reize ihrer Schwester mir eine angenehme Unterhaltung verschafften, daß eine Leidenschaft in dem armen Herzen sich bildete?’”

“‘Was it my fault, that, whilst the peculiar charms of her sister afforded me an agreeable entertainment, a passion for me was engendered in her feeble heart? And yet am I wholly blameless?’” she repeated, feeling unsure.

Atobe sat up and Kuririn faced him once more. “Give me that book and lie down here. Ore-sama will take the time to show you how to read a Goethe literature.”

She handed him the book and he took it, flipping it over to the German side. “Here, lie down here,” he insisted and shifts around a bit. Feeling a little unsure of herself, but feeling the need to obey Atobe’s every command, she laid down on his outstretched arm that curled around herself to take hold of the book. He took off where she had stopped, “‘Und doch – bin ich ganz unschuldig? Hab' ich nicht ihre Empfindungen genährt? Hab' ich mich nicht an den ganz wahren Ausdrücken der Natur, die uns so oft zu lachen machten, so wenig lächerlich sie waren, selbst ergetzt? Hab' ich nicht – o was ist der Mensch, daß er über sich klagen darf!’”

Mmm… he smells good, Kuririn thought to herself as she snuggled closer to him and his sweet-smelling expensive cologne all over his chest… and then scold herself internally. Focus on the book, not him. The book. Him reading!

“‘Ich will, lieber Freund, ich verspreche dir's, ich will mich bessern, will nicht mehr ein bißchen Übel, das uns das Schicksal vorlegt, wiederkäuen, wie ich's immer getan habe; ich will das Gegenwärtige genießen, und das Vergangene soll mir vergangen sein.’”

But he smells fresh. And very manly. She likes manly. How could anyone resist that manly smell anyway?

“Kuririn? Are you paying attention to ore-sama?”

Kuririn snapped herself out of her thoughts and out of his chest. “Huh? What? Oh yes, of course. Please continue, Keigo-sama,” she said.

He continued and she went back to her train of thoughts. Not that she knew a lot of expensive colognes, but the one Atobe uses smells like a Clive Christian. It’s got a smooth citrus leathery vanilla oriental smell. Weirdly, a pretty good combination if she says so herself. She feels like a creep smelling him like that, but it’s a much better option that listening to him droning on and on in German. She could swear he was chanting a sleeping spell as her eyes got heavier and heavier.

“‘Er hat mich zu sich gebeten, und ich will ihn ehster Tage besuchen. Er wohnt auf einem fürstlichen Jagdhofe, anderthalb Stunden von hier, wohin er nach dem Tode seiner Frau zu ziehen die Erlaubnis erhielt, da ihm der Aufenthalt hier in der Stadt und im Amthause zu weh tat.’”

Atobe stopped. Kuririn haven’t moved in a while and he was getting a bit suspicious. “Kuririn? Kuririn?” He looked down and Kuririn was happily dozing off on his arm, her face buried in his chest. He sighed and was about to wake her up, but there’s something about her sleeping form that makes him waver.

Now what?

He set the book down on the bedside table and tried in vain to remove his arm from under her head. She clings on like a three year old to a teddy bear. He lied down beside her instead, feeling sleepy himself. Oh, whatever. He covered both of them with his expensive goose down blanket and decided to go to sleep, hugging her close to him. He had never slept as comfortably as he did that night.