fairest in the land
Some people from my f-list in shikanashi_kk may remember this. ^^; This is written way back in January, but I only decided to post it now. Inspired by Snow White, obviously, but written mainly because of the movie Sydney White. :D
MOAR CRACK. 8Db
Title: Fairest in the Land
Author: ieatchu / shikanashi_kk
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,122
Pairing: None (Hyotei-centric)
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis and all of its characters do not and never will belong to me. Obviously, Snow White also does not belong to me. XD
Summary: Fortunately, the man that Atobe's stepmother had sent with a wave of two fingers and a royally said "itteyoshi!" had failed into killing him.
Unfortunately, he is picked up by Oshitari who offers him shelter so long as he cooks for the people in that 'shelter'. Truth be told, Atobe was used to food being given to him with just a snap of his fingers, and he has absolutely no culinary skills whatsoever, but Oshitari doesn't need to know that.
fairest in the land
When Atobe entered the little shack that Oshitari called home, the first thing that he did was cringe, not at the nearly gone walls or the ceiling that looks like it’ll collapse at any minute if you just do so much as yell, but at the stench. Oh, the stench. It was absolutely despicable, and if it weren’t for the fact that his stepmother wanted to kill him (translation: he had nowhere to go), he would have stepped out of that beat up place and bugged Tezuka for a place to stay.
Unfortunately for him, once his stepmother finds out that the man she had sent with a wave of two fingers and a royally said “itteyoshi!” had failed into killing him, the first place she’d call up was Tezuka.
Luckily (or not, because the place smelled really, really bad), a man found him lost in the middle of the forest and took him in, after a little bargain that he’ll provide shelter if Atobe provided the cooking, because as it turned out, he and the people that he lived with apparently had no culinary skills and suspiciously acted like pyromaniacs when it came to the kitchen.
Truth be told, Atobe had no culinary skills either. Food was given to him with a snap of his fingers, but Oshitari didn’t need to know that.
Oh, god, it really was a horrible smell.
“Yuushi, what’ve you got there?” A red-haired man piped up from his position on the couch where he was reading a book that looked strangely like the ones that Atobe read when he was two. “Dinner?”
Atobe stared at him. Now that he managed to distract himself from the smell, he noted with a little bit of surprise that there were… a lot of people living in some place so small.
Oshitari smirked at the redhead’s direction, but Atobe couldn’t be sure because it surely looked a lot kinder than the one Oshitari gave him when he found him lying on the dirt a few hours ago. “This is Atobe Keigo. I found him in the middle of the forest. No, he’s not dinner, but he will be making dinner for us from now on to make up for it.”
The thought cannibals! reached Atobe’s brain before the thought they don’t know the name Atobe?, but he didn’t have much time being horrified because Oshitari chose that moment to look at him swiftly before motioning a hand towards the redhead, “That is Gakuto. The one lying on that couch over there is Taki.”
Taki lifted his head up from the pillow he was using at the mention of his name and looked surprised when he saw the visitor. A smile curled at his lips, and he opened his mouth, but ended up covering his face as he sneezed. And coughed. And sneezed. And sniffed. And coughed. And snorted.
“Uhm, I’m sorry, I get sick a lot at this time of the month, so, well, it’s nice to meet you,” he managed to let out before promptly shoving his face with tissue with an apologetic smile that didn’t really look apologetic at all.
He nodded his head as a form of acknowledgement, but nearly doubled backwards as some ungodly thing flopped themselves over him and clung at his neck, staying there.
He spluttered, before reprimanding himself internally because Atobes did not splutter, so he tried to gather his dignity and would have regained it too, had not Oshitari beaten him to speaking first and with a very annoying and amused smirk on his face.
“That’s Jiroh. You’ll get used to him.”
So, the ungodly thing was called Jiroh. Atobe felt Jiroh’s sleepy grin against his neck from where Jiroh’s face was uncomfortably stuck. “Mmhmm, I like ‘Tobe. He’s a good pillow.”
And just like that, he detached himself, dragged his feet on the floor and plopped down on another couch.
The awkward silence thankfully didn’t get a chance to make itself known because a snort rose up in the air. All eyes turned to the back of the room where two more men sat at yet another couch. How many couches were there anyway?
“Well, I don’t like him,” the one where the snort came from announced with a glare, “He smells like baby cologne and looks like a pansy. What is that anyway? Tights?”
Atobe was brought up to deal with these kind of people. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem because I don’t like you either, and while I deeply sympathize with you, it is not my fault that you smell like the bottom of my stepmother’s dog, but then again, I might be wrong. Poochie certainly smells better than you.”
Apparently, the other man didn’t appreciate Poochie as much as he did, because he snarled and stood up with a raised fist. He would have walked across the room and swung said raised fist if it weren’t for the fact that a gentle hand clasped firmly around his wrist and pulled him back down on the couch.
“Shishido-san,” another man let out, frowning.
Atobe watched as Shishido flinched at the obvious distress found at the other’s face, before slumping against the couch, grumbling under his breath about pansies. “Whatever, Choutarou.”
Choutarou’s face positively brightened up, and he smiled this big smile that Atobe thought was impossible not to look stupid, but surprisingly enough, Choutarou did it quite well. “Thank you, Shishido-san!”
Then, he turned to Atobe, still smiling that big, bright smile of his. “Welcome, Atobe-san. This isn’t exactly a place of luxury, but I’m sure you’ll like it here.”
This isn’t exactly a place of luxury. Hah. That was an understatement. A very understated understatement.
Oshitari smirked at the look on Atobe’s face. It was the look of a person who knew that impending doom was certainly getting very close. “And lastly, we have Hiyoshi. He’s kinda shy, but I think you’ll like him.”
If what Oshitari meant by you’ll like him is Hiyoshi not talking to him except to say gekokujou, then well, Atobe was fine with that. Sort of. At least, shy or not, he has got to be better than that Shishido guy.
What a disaster.
When all this is over and Kabaji finally gathered enough proof from underground sources and announced to the world his stepmother’s plan on killing him, Atobe will make sure that his stepmother will be locked in a cell with a stench a million times more disgusting than this.
After all, all of this is her fault.
Surely she should have known from the very beginning that no one can match him when it’s about being the fairest in the land.
Even her mirror knows that.
Pfft.
MOAR CRACK. 8Db
Title: Fairest in the Land
Author: ieatchu / shikanashi_kk
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,122
Pairing: None (Hyotei-centric)
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis and all of its characters do not and never will belong to me. Obviously, Snow White also does not belong to me. XD
Summary: Fortunately, the man that Atobe's stepmother had sent with a wave of two fingers and a royally said "itteyoshi!" had failed into killing him.
Unfortunately, he is picked up by Oshitari who offers him shelter so long as he cooks for the people in that 'shelter'. Truth be told, Atobe was used to food being given to him with just a snap of his fingers, and he has absolutely no culinary skills whatsoever, but Oshitari doesn't need to know that.
fairest in the land
When Atobe entered the little shack that Oshitari called home, the first thing that he did was cringe, not at the nearly gone walls or the ceiling that looks like it’ll collapse at any minute if you just do so much as yell, but at the stench. Oh, the stench. It was absolutely despicable, and if it weren’t for the fact that his stepmother wanted to kill him (translation: he had nowhere to go), he would have stepped out of that beat up place and bugged Tezuka for a place to stay.
Unfortunately for him, once his stepmother finds out that the man she had sent with a wave of two fingers and a royally said “itteyoshi!” had failed into killing him, the first place she’d call up was Tezuka.
Luckily (or not, because the place smelled really, really bad), a man found him lost in the middle of the forest and took him in, after a little bargain that he’ll provide shelter if Atobe provided the cooking, because as it turned out, he and the people that he lived with apparently had no culinary skills and suspiciously acted like pyromaniacs when it came to the kitchen.
Truth be told, Atobe had no culinary skills either. Food was given to him with a snap of his fingers, but Oshitari didn’t need to know that.
Oh, god, it really was a horrible smell.
“Yuushi, what’ve you got there?” A red-haired man piped up from his position on the couch where he was reading a book that looked strangely like the ones that Atobe read when he was two. “Dinner?”
Atobe stared at him. Now that he managed to distract himself from the smell, he noted with a little bit of surprise that there were… a lot of people living in some place so small.
Oshitari smirked at the redhead’s direction, but Atobe couldn’t be sure because it surely looked a lot kinder than the one Oshitari gave him when he found him lying on the dirt a few hours ago. “This is Atobe Keigo. I found him in the middle of the forest. No, he’s not dinner, but he will be making dinner for us from now on to make up for it.”
The thought cannibals! reached Atobe’s brain before the thought they don’t know the name Atobe?, but he didn’t have much time being horrified because Oshitari chose that moment to look at him swiftly before motioning a hand towards the redhead, “That is Gakuto. The one lying on that couch over there is Taki.”
Taki lifted his head up from the pillow he was using at the mention of his name and looked surprised when he saw the visitor. A smile curled at his lips, and he opened his mouth, but ended up covering his face as he sneezed. And coughed. And sneezed. And sniffed. And coughed. And snorted.
“Uhm, I’m sorry, I get sick a lot at this time of the month, so, well, it’s nice to meet you,” he managed to let out before promptly shoving his face with tissue with an apologetic smile that didn’t really look apologetic at all.
He nodded his head as a form of acknowledgement, but nearly doubled backwards as some ungodly thing flopped themselves over him and clung at his neck, staying there.
He spluttered, before reprimanding himself internally because Atobes did not splutter, so he tried to gather his dignity and would have regained it too, had not Oshitari beaten him to speaking first and with a very annoying and amused smirk on his face.
“That’s Jiroh. You’ll get used to him.”
So, the ungodly thing was called Jiroh. Atobe felt Jiroh’s sleepy grin against his neck from where Jiroh’s face was uncomfortably stuck. “Mmhmm, I like ‘Tobe. He’s a good pillow.”
And just like that, he detached himself, dragged his feet on the floor and plopped down on another couch.
The awkward silence thankfully didn’t get a chance to make itself known because a snort rose up in the air. All eyes turned to the back of the room where two more men sat at yet another couch. How many couches were there anyway?
“Well, I don’t like him,” the one where the snort came from announced with a glare, “He smells like baby cologne and looks like a pansy. What is that anyway? Tights?”
Atobe was brought up to deal with these kind of people. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem because I don’t like you either, and while I deeply sympathize with you, it is not my fault that you smell like the bottom of my stepmother’s dog, but then again, I might be wrong. Poochie certainly smells better than you.”
Apparently, the other man didn’t appreciate Poochie as much as he did, because he snarled and stood up with a raised fist. He would have walked across the room and swung said raised fist if it weren’t for the fact that a gentle hand clasped firmly around his wrist and pulled him back down on the couch.
“Shishido-san,” another man let out, frowning.
Atobe watched as Shishido flinched at the obvious distress found at the other’s face, before slumping against the couch, grumbling under his breath about pansies. “Whatever, Choutarou.”
Choutarou’s face positively brightened up, and he smiled this big smile that Atobe thought was impossible not to look stupid, but surprisingly enough, Choutarou did it quite well. “Thank you, Shishido-san!”
Then, he turned to Atobe, still smiling that big, bright smile of his. “Welcome, Atobe-san. This isn’t exactly a place of luxury, but I’m sure you’ll like it here.”
This isn’t exactly a place of luxury. Hah. That was an understatement. A very understated understatement.
Oshitari smirked at the look on Atobe’s face. It was the look of a person who knew that impending doom was certainly getting very close. “And lastly, we have Hiyoshi. He’s kinda shy, but I think you’ll like him.”
If what Oshitari meant by you’ll like him is Hiyoshi not talking to him except to say gekokujou, then well, Atobe was fine with that. Sort of. At least, shy or not, he has got to be better than that Shishido guy.
What a disaster.
When all this is over and Kabaji finally gathered enough proof from underground sources and announced to the world his stepmother’s plan on killing him, Atobe will make sure that his stepmother will be locked in a cell with a stench a million times more disgusting than this.
After all, all of this is her fault.
Surely she should have known from the very beginning that no one can match him when it’s about being the fairest in the land.
Even her mirror knows that.
Pfft.