Aitsu no Daihonmei: Play for Play
“And this year’s class activity will be…”
Around the tension wavered through the classroom. Girl’s pulled on their hair, bit their glossy lips and prayed to whichever God they believed in. The men, although passive-looking among the abnormally pensive girls, were fidgety as well. Some high-fived in self-assurance, while some crossed their fingers and hoped for the best. The Ugly Five in particular were looking very moody, displaying an array of emotions; from boredom to nervous anticipation. The only person in the class that seemed to be void of any emotion whatsoever was one Satou Takahiko, who looked as blank as a paper bag, arms crossed, normally scrunched brows (either up or down) relaxed and unexpressive. His mouth showed neither sign of grin nor scowl, though the single finger tapping on the sleeve of his uniform jacket betrayed his stoic endeavor.
“…a group play. Due to the majority of the votes, it will be Romeo and Juliet,” the girl sounded, barely containing her own grinning features and pending fist-pump. Shakily repressing said motions, she sat down in her seat like a rickety swing set and continued on chatting with her friends in hushed whispers at their triumph.
Meanwhile, most of the males in the class slumped with defeat, some of them groaning their protest, others voicing it.
“Oh, shut it,” replied one of the many cheering girls. “You guys had your chance.”
“Not even a lick of it,” mumbled one of the braver men in reply, pouting. “None of us ever stand a chance against the girls. They all have the same frame of mind…”
Satou Takahiko, chorused the thoughts of the minority of the class.
The teacher, having been ignoring her students until now, finally decided to continue with her duties, announcing to the class, “And so, auditions will be held in the classroom during after-school hours. Be sure to grab a script sample on your way out for rehearsing! Everyone will have a part, so if you don’t want to be Tree Prop #3, I suggest you do your best.”
And so, while the class filtered out through the doors of the classroom to their next daily activities, all either reluctantly or enthusiastically grabbing a thin sheet of paper on their way out, Yoshida found himself watching them go as he packed some of his stray pencils. Satou, however, had different plans for them and plucked one of them off the floor, studying the pink of the eraser before he shoved it in Yoshida’s bony cheek, enjoying the squeak of surprise he received.
“That hurts,” Yoshida complained, easing away from his assaulter. “Stop it.”
“If you do your best in the audition, maybe I will,” Satou bargained, smirking slightly.
“Huh? Why? I’m perfectly happy with being Tree Prop #3,” Yoshida informed, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and swerving to the door, all while maneuvering around the pencil-turned-weapon Satou wielded. “Why do you care, anyway?” he yelled, once he was stabbed in the eye upon reaching the door, to which Satou giggled in his bizarre amusement.
“Because if I audition, I’ll most likely get a leading part,” Satou explained, brow scrunching the slightest bit in distaste.
“Yeah, knowing you…probably…uh, Romeo,” Yoshida thought aloud, mirroring Satou’s displeased expression. “But what’s so wrong with that? Stage freight?”
“Hardly…” Satou trailed off. “Have you never heard of Romeo and Juliet? Surely you’ve had to read it before.”
“Nope,” Yoshida said, eyeing the scripts before tentatively taking one and stuffing it in his pocket. “Never read it.”
Satou huffed a small laugh, holding the classroom door open for Yoshida to walk through, contemplating while tracing a crack on the ceiling as they walked down the hall. Yoshida was too busy messing with his backpack strap to notice, but Satou’s frown had reached a southern pole level in his thoughts. Before he knew it, he was reciting lines he’d long forgotten.
“A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth,
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd,” he finished, barely noticing the swooning women around him, falling to the pavement with racing hearts and bugged-out eyes.
Yoshida’s face is one of annoyance when Satou finally cares to look, hair frazzled and eyes gloomy. “You’re… Give other guys a chance, why don’t you?”
“I believe your line is: To help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make die with a restorative.” Satou quoted, pulling ahead so he could stop in front of Yoshida, bending down. “But I believe an actor is only as good as his actions,” he said happily.
Yoshida only stares, not impressed in the slightest. “Didn’t I tell you I’ve never heard of this play?”
“Right,” Satou sighs, “Guess I’ll have to take initiative, then?” he thinks aloud, before sweeping a leg under Yoshida’s, successfully putting the other off-kilter.
Yoshida swayed, making an indignant sound when a large hand caught him by the waist before he ended up scrambled on the pavement of the school’s parking lot. When he actually cared to look anywhere but the place his skull would have met its own demise, he looked back up at Satou, fully prepared to scream up a storm and possibly throw a fist, but he was stopped abruptly by a wall of a body and a pillow-soft kiss. Satou pressed insistently, hands keeping Yoshida steady while he continued to lose his balance with every tilt and prod of Satou’s.
When he finally pulled away, Yoshida said, panting, “You never quit, do you? I don’t get you!”
Satou only replied with a smile, pulling Yoshida back up into a proper standing position, hand remaining on his small waist. He leaned back down for another brief brush of their lips, eyes closed in mirth while Yoshida met him halfway, blushing way past his ears and well into other parts of his body.
“And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!” Satou whispered cynically, before taking off ahead of them.
Yoshida stared after him, flustered, angered and blushing, before muttering quietly, “At least warn me before you go medieval.”
--
Thank you for reading! If anyone wants to help me figure out how these school plays work, I'll be eternally grateful. orz
GUESS WHO'S GONNA BE JULIET? >:D I'll give you a hint: this fic was inspired by olden Kabuki. xD Also, while I accidentally put "Yoshida/Satou" instead of "Satou/Yoshida", I had a brief image of that actually happening. Do not want. But Torachin/Yamanaka? Want.
Around the tension wavered through the classroom. Girl’s pulled on their hair, bit their glossy lips and prayed to whichever God they believed in. The men, although passive-looking among the abnormally pensive girls, were fidgety as well. Some high-fived in self-assurance, while some crossed their fingers and hoped for the best. The Ugly Five in particular were looking very moody, displaying an array of emotions; from boredom to nervous anticipation. The only person in the class that seemed to be void of any emotion whatsoever was one Satou Takahiko, who looked as blank as a paper bag, arms crossed, normally scrunched brows (either up or down) relaxed and unexpressive. His mouth showed neither sign of grin nor scowl, though the single finger tapping on the sleeve of his uniform jacket betrayed his stoic endeavor.
“…a group play. Due to the majority of the votes, it will be Romeo and Juliet,” the girl sounded, barely containing her own grinning features and pending fist-pump. Shakily repressing said motions, she sat down in her seat like a rickety swing set and continued on chatting with her friends in hushed whispers at their triumph.
Meanwhile, most of the males in the class slumped with defeat, some of them groaning their protest, others voicing it.
“Oh, shut it,” replied one of the many cheering girls. “You guys had your chance.”
“Not even a lick of it,” mumbled one of the braver men in reply, pouting. “None of us ever stand a chance against the girls. They all have the same frame of mind…”
Satou Takahiko, chorused the thoughts of the minority of the class.
The teacher, having been ignoring her students until now, finally decided to continue with her duties, announcing to the class, “And so, auditions will be held in the classroom during after-school hours. Be sure to grab a script sample on your way out for rehearsing! Everyone will have a part, so if you don’t want to be Tree Prop #3, I suggest you do your best.”
And so, while the class filtered out through the doors of the classroom to their next daily activities, all either reluctantly or enthusiastically grabbing a thin sheet of paper on their way out, Yoshida found himself watching them go as he packed some of his stray pencils. Satou, however, had different plans for them and plucked one of them off the floor, studying the pink of the eraser before he shoved it in Yoshida’s bony cheek, enjoying the squeak of surprise he received.
“That hurts,” Yoshida complained, easing away from his assaulter. “Stop it.”
“If you do your best in the audition, maybe I will,” Satou bargained, smirking slightly.
“Huh? Why? I’m perfectly happy with being Tree Prop #3,” Yoshida informed, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and swerving to the door, all while maneuvering around the pencil-turned-weapon Satou wielded. “Why do you care, anyway?” he yelled, once he was stabbed in the eye upon reaching the door, to which Satou giggled in his bizarre amusement.
“Because if I audition, I’ll most likely get a leading part,” Satou explained, brow scrunching the slightest bit in distaste.
“Yeah, knowing you…probably…uh, Romeo,” Yoshida thought aloud, mirroring Satou’s displeased expression. “But what’s so wrong with that? Stage freight?”
“Hardly…” Satou trailed off. “Have you never heard of Romeo and Juliet? Surely you’ve had to read it before.”
“Nope,” Yoshida said, eyeing the scripts before tentatively taking one and stuffing it in his pocket. “Never read it.”
Satou huffed a small laugh, holding the classroom door open for Yoshida to walk through, contemplating while tracing a crack on the ceiling as they walked down the hall. Yoshida was too busy messing with his backpack strap to notice, but Satou’s frown had reached a southern pole level in his thoughts. Before he knew it, he was reciting lines he’d long forgotten.
“A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth,
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd,” he finished, barely noticing the swooning women around him, falling to the pavement with racing hearts and bugged-out eyes.
Yoshida’s face is one of annoyance when Satou finally cares to look, hair frazzled and eyes gloomy. “You’re… Give other guys a chance, why don’t you?”
“I believe your line is: To help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make die with a restorative.” Satou quoted, pulling ahead so he could stop in front of Yoshida, bending down. “But I believe an actor is only as good as his actions,” he said happily.
Yoshida only stares, not impressed in the slightest. “Didn’t I tell you I’ve never heard of this play?”
“Right,” Satou sighs, “Guess I’ll have to take initiative, then?” he thinks aloud, before sweeping a leg under Yoshida’s, successfully putting the other off-kilter.
Yoshida swayed, making an indignant sound when a large hand caught him by the waist before he ended up scrambled on the pavement of the school’s parking lot. When he actually cared to look anywhere but the place his skull would have met its own demise, he looked back up at Satou, fully prepared to scream up a storm and possibly throw a fist, but he was stopped abruptly by a wall of a body and a pillow-soft kiss. Satou pressed insistently, hands keeping Yoshida steady while he continued to lose his balance with every tilt and prod of Satou’s.
When he finally pulled away, Yoshida said, panting, “You never quit, do you? I don’t get you!”
Satou only replied with a smile, pulling Yoshida back up into a proper standing position, hand remaining on his small waist. He leaned back down for another brief brush of their lips, eyes closed in mirth while Yoshida met him halfway, blushing way past his ears and well into other parts of his body.
“And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!” Satou whispered cynically, before taking off ahead of them.
Yoshida stared after him, flustered, angered and blushing, before muttering quietly, “At least warn me before you go medieval.”
--
Thank you for reading! If anyone wants to help me figure out how these school plays work, I'll be eternally grateful. orz
GUESS WHO'S GONNA BE JULIET? >:D I'll give you a hint: this fic was inspired by olden Kabuki. xD Also, while I accidentally put "Yoshida/Satou" instead of "Satou/Yoshida", I had a brief image of that actually happening. Do not want. But Torachin/Yamanaka? Want.