Shitenhouji Story Part 1
And since I'm on a roll, let's just keep going. This one is a lot less cohesive than the Silver Pair one, though, and explains a lot less. Just FYI.
Shitenhouji Story--Shitenhouji
Fandom: Prince of Tennis, AU Project
Pairing (if any): general, Shitenhouji ensemble (Koishikawa, Kenya, Shiraishi)
Rating: PG (mild swearing)
Shitenhouji Story
Shitenhouji
“That jerk, leaving me out here all by myself! Some family! Ditching me for girls! He’s not even attractive--I’m way cuter than he ever was! That jerk!"
That guy had had more than enough sake today. Then again, Koishikawa got the feeling that he’d be ranting something like this even without the addition of alcohol--it just might have been a little more coherent.
“I mean,” the guy slurred, continuing as though he and Koishikawa were actually having a real conversation, “it’s not like I can’t get a job on my own, you know! He’s not the only talented one in the family! But we were, like, a team! And you don’t just ditch out on your team because of some- some- some hooker! What makes him think he’s so popular, huh?”
“I don’t know, but I need to go look after the other customers, ok?” There weren’t very many people here this evening, but it gave Koishikawa something else to do.
“You’re a good man,” the guy mumbled, looking into his empty sake cup and turning it upside down as though the liquor was hiding. “A good man. Uh, while you’re up, could I get another of these?”
“Sure, sure.”
“That’s a real pity,” called one of the only other customers still here. He hadn’t had as much to drink, but seemed no better off for it. He was sitting at another table, stacking empty cups. “Your story, I mean.”
“I know, right?” the loud guy complained. “My cousin is such a- a- a jerk.”
By the time Koishikawa came back with more sake, the quieter guy had scooted over to the louder guy’s table and they were commiserating together. Made them easier to keep an eye on, at least. “But you see,” the quieter guy was explaining, gesturing broadly in the air with a bandaged hand, “whenever they close a door, they open a window.”
“Who’s they?” Koishikawa was surprised that the louder guy was still sober enough to ask such a reasonable question.
“Oh, I don’t know. The foxes. But that’s not the point,” the quieter guy drawled, laying his uninjured hand on the louder guy’s shoulder. “The point is that there’s always something. Good. Something good. Like, maybe your cousin decided that Eastern whores were better company than you, but you know what? Your cousin’s goneness means that you’re free to do anything you want to do. That doesn’t involve your cousin. Thank you, dear,” he added as Koishikawa gave him a refill, even though he really didn’t seem like he needed one. For one slightly horrifying second, it looked like he was going to try to hold Koishikawa’s hand, but thought better of it and went back to tracing the rim of the cup. And, if Koishikawa remembered correctly, he really hadn’t had that much yet.
“But I don’t want to do anything that doesn’t involve my cousin!” the louder guy complained balefully, but backtracked after a few seconds. It probably took him that long to think through it. “Not like that, though. I’m not, you know, like that, I mean. You know?” His abstract gesticulations really didn’t help. “Not that I have a problem with it, like, but, you know, I’m not. Like that. And definitely not for my cousin, that big fat jerk.” But bringing up his cousin just seemed to depress him again. Was he this awkward when he was sober, Koishikawa had to wonder.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear, I understand,” the quieter guy sympathized, rubbing the louder guy’s back.
No more drinks for these guys.
“Still,” the quieter guy continued, tracing the rim of his glass again. “You can’t always have your first choice for what you want to do with your life, can you? Nope. Take this,” and he was looking at that bandaged hand of his. “I can’t do anything with this. I’ve been trying to fix it for...years. Years and years and years.” He wasn’t really looking at anything anymore, just staring ahead and tracing the rim of his glass. “It’s poison, you know. Anybody I touch with it gets tortured. To death. No cure. Been looking for one. But it’s a curse, you know, there aren’t cures. But I keep looking. I just keep looking and looking and looking, but nothing I hear turns out to work. Like today, I mean. They said if I came here then I’d find what I was looking for. Nope.” He sighed, and leaned some more on the louder guy. “Don’t you think I’ve tried hard enough? But nope. But this time, this time I’ve decided, no more. There’s too much of all this,” he sighed, waving his bandaged hand in the air. “And none of it gets me anything. So I’m moving on.”
Well, if Koishikawa had learned anything from serving people alcohol for a living, it was that everybody has a story. That was quite a story, though. Even though he might’ve had a bit too much already, Koishikawa refilled the guy’s glass anyway. He sounded like he needed it.
“Wow.” For once, the louder guy sounded like he couldn’t come up with anything to say. “That sucks.”
The quieter guy pursed his lips and sighed again. “Mm, it could be worse. Anyway, it’s just like your cousin.”
The louder guy blinked blearily. “...Howzzat?”
The quieter guy sipped vaguely at his sake and focused on the louder guy as though he was about to impart the knowledge of the universe. “Well, you can’t fix what you can’t fix, can you? So you’ve just got to move on. Move on,” he said again, accompanying it the second time with a sweeping gesture, like he’d meant to do that the first time and hadn’t thought of it yet.
“Yeah,” the louder guy agreed, nodding very slowly and then picking up speed. “Yeah! You are such a smart guy!” he added, a sloppy grin spreading across his face, like that was the wisest advice he’d ever received.
Well, at least he wasn’t pining for his cousin anymore. “So what’re you going to do now? Either of you,” Koishikawa asked, picking up the empty cups from the other tables.
The louder guy looked like he was about to respond, and pointed his finger like he had something to say, but then seemed to completely forget what that was. “I...dunno.”
The quieter guy had stopped tracing the rim of his empty glass and moved on to rolling it in circles around the table. “I’m going to act,” he answered decisively, nodding.
A rather surprising response. “Oh, you’re an actor?” Koishikawa asked, taking the empty cup away from the quieter guy in case it rolled off the table and broke.
“Well, I’ve never done it before,” the guy replied, tapping Koishikawa’s hand with a finger before Koishikawa could pull it away, “but it doesn’t look hard. I bet I could. I can dance, anyway. And I’ve always wanted to. Don’t you think that sounds nice?”
It sounded kind of irresponsible and dumb, actually, but Koishikawa held his tongue. It did actually kind of sound like fun, sure, but it wasn’t like a person could just run off and become an actor. Actors came by every once in a while, and the life sounded pretty damn difficult. Especially if a guy couldn’t act. And Koishikawa just couldn’t shake the feeling that this guy could not act.
“Hey, I can act!” the louder guy interjected, elbowing the quieter guy. “Can I come?”
“Sure!” That had to have been the first time the quieter guy had smiled since he came in today. It was a good thing these guys had found each other, Koishikawa decided. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Kenya--Oshitari Kenya,” the louder guy drawled, then made some stupid pun with the name. It was a real groaner, but one couldn’t really blame a drunk guy.
The quieter one laughed like it was a great joke, though. “You are so funny!” he giggled, pushing Oshitari in the shoulder like a flirting girl. “We could make an acting troupe, and you could do comedy routines or something! We would be so cool,” he grinned. “I’m Shiraishi Kuranosuke, and it is great to meet you.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Koishikawa butt in, since it just didn’t seem right to let these guys dream without thinking it through first. “Making an acting troupe isn’t that easy, you know. You need to plan things out, you need to know how to advertise, you need to know how to set up. You can’t just run off and--”
“That’s perfect!” Oshitari interrupted, reaching out to grab Koishikawa’s sleeve. “You think of everything!”
“Then that can be your job,” Shiraishi nodded. “Err, what was your name, again?”
“Koishikawa Kenjirou,” he replied dubiously, wondering what he’d just gotten himself into.
“Ken-chan can handle the business stuff, and you and I can do the artsy stuff, Kenya,” Shiraishi decided, immediately using nicknames despite their only just having met.
“Wait, wait,” Koishikawa tried to go back. He’d never agreed to this harebrained scheme, had he?
“Oh, it’s ok,” Shiraishi waved away Koishikawa’s complaints, but then promptly passed out against Oshitari’s shoulder. Figures he couldn’t hold his liquor.
“So we can leave, like, tomorrow, right?” Oshitari continued, unfazed.
Screw it. There was no point arguing with drunk people. He sighed, “You know what? Sure. Help me with this guy,” he added, throwing Shiraishi’s arm around his shoulder to haul him to his feet. Just in case, though, he was careful with the bandages.
Oshitari was barely in better shape than Shiraishi, but at least he was conscious. He got Shiraishi’s other arm, and together they helped drag the poor guy to his room. Despite wobbling worse than a tree in an earthquake, Oshitari was surprisingly fast--nearly outran them both before he got too far and tripped. He had muttered a slurred apology out of which Koishikawa understood the words “Power,” “speed,” and what might have been “cousin,” but by this point he wasn’t exactly intelligible. They got Shiraishi to his room well enough, but as soon as Oshitari wasn’t carrying anyone, he was out stone cold on the floor. It seemed like too much effort to try to put him anywhere else.
Well, that was that. Koishikawa figured he’d best go pack.
*
It was extremely bright. Extremely bright. And Shiraishi had the most terrible headache. Why had he woken up, again?
There was someone lying about half on top of him, still asleep. It was probably that boy from the night before, whose cousin left. Kenya, wasn’t it? Shiraishi certainly didn’t remember having done anything untoward, but apparently he had wound up in Shiraishi’s room anyway. Oh well.
There was an uncomfortably loud knock on the doorframe. It felt rather like getting stabbed in the head with something. Kenya jolted awake with a miserable gurgling noise. Thankfully, instead of knocking again, whoever it was simply slid the door open.
“So?” Ken-chan stood in the doorway, carrying a bag and looking far too cheerful for it being this early. “You guys ready to go, or what?”
Kenya did not sound as though he was in very good shape, not that Shiraishi was in much better. “Whassgoinon?” he groaned, attempting to roll over and nearly elbowing Shiraishi in the head.
Shiraishi shut his eyes for a moment so that the sun would stop hurting them. “Were we going to leave today?” he tried to ask, disappointed that his voice was so groggy and yet unable and rather unwilling to fix that just yet.
“We decided on that after you’d passed out. I didn’t figure you’d mind,” Ken-chan offered helpfully. He probably wasn’t actually talking as loudly as it felt like he was, but Shiraishi did still wish he would be a bit quieter. He really shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night.
“Wait...who’re you?” Kenya mumbled, blinking blearily up at Shiraishi. His eyes weaved in and out of focus.
“We’re in an acting troupe together,” Shiraishi explained, patting Kenya lightly on the head with his good hand. “You and me and Ken-chan over there.”
“Ok, great,” he drawled, making silly faces as he attempted to wrap his head around the idea. “So... who’re you, again?”
~
Shitenhouji Story--Shitenhouji
Fandom: Prince of Tennis, AU Project
Pairing (if any): general, Shitenhouji ensemble (Koishikawa, Kenya, Shiraishi)
Rating: PG (mild swearing)
Shitenhouji Story
Shitenhouji
“That jerk, leaving me out here all by myself! Some family! Ditching me for girls! He’s not even attractive--I’m way cuter than he ever was! That jerk!"
That guy had had more than enough sake today. Then again, Koishikawa got the feeling that he’d be ranting something like this even without the addition of alcohol--it just might have been a little more coherent.
“I mean,” the guy slurred, continuing as though he and Koishikawa were actually having a real conversation, “it’s not like I can’t get a job on my own, you know! He’s not the only talented one in the family! But we were, like, a team! And you don’t just ditch out on your team because of some- some- some hooker! What makes him think he’s so popular, huh?”
“I don’t know, but I need to go look after the other customers, ok?” There weren’t very many people here this evening, but it gave Koishikawa something else to do.
“You’re a good man,” the guy mumbled, looking into his empty sake cup and turning it upside down as though the liquor was hiding. “A good man. Uh, while you’re up, could I get another of these?”
“Sure, sure.”
“That’s a real pity,” called one of the only other customers still here. He hadn’t had as much to drink, but seemed no better off for it. He was sitting at another table, stacking empty cups. “Your story, I mean.”
“I know, right?” the loud guy complained. “My cousin is such a- a- a jerk.”
By the time Koishikawa came back with more sake, the quieter guy had scooted over to the louder guy’s table and they were commiserating together. Made them easier to keep an eye on, at least. “But you see,” the quieter guy was explaining, gesturing broadly in the air with a bandaged hand, “whenever they close a door, they open a window.”
“Who’s they?” Koishikawa was surprised that the louder guy was still sober enough to ask such a reasonable question.
“Oh, I don’t know. The foxes. But that’s not the point,” the quieter guy drawled, laying his uninjured hand on the louder guy’s shoulder. “The point is that there’s always something. Good. Something good. Like, maybe your cousin decided that Eastern whores were better company than you, but you know what? Your cousin’s goneness means that you’re free to do anything you want to do. That doesn’t involve your cousin. Thank you, dear,” he added as Koishikawa gave him a refill, even though he really didn’t seem like he needed one. For one slightly horrifying second, it looked like he was going to try to hold Koishikawa’s hand, but thought better of it and went back to tracing the rim of the cup. And, if Koishikawa remembered correctly, he really hadn’t had that much yet.
“But I don’t want to do anything that doesn’t involve my cousin!” the louder guy complained balefully, but backtracked after a few seconds. It probably took him that long to think through it. “Not like that, though. I’m not, you know, like that, I mean. You know?” His abstract gesticulations really didn’t help. “Not that I have a problem with it, like, but, you know, I’m not. Like that. And definitely not for my cousin, that big fat jerk.” But bringing up his cousin just seemed to depress him again. Was he this awkward when he was sober, Koishikawa had to wonder.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear, I understand,” the quieter guy sympathized, rubbing the louder guy’s back.
No more drinks for these guys.
“Still,” the quieter guy continued, tracing the rim of his glass again. “You can’t always have your first choice for what you want to do with your life, can you? Nope. Take this,” and he was looking at that bandaged hand of his. “I can’t do anything with this. I’ve been trying to fix it for...years. Years and years and years.” He wasn’t really looking at anything anymore, just staring ahead and tracing the rim of his glass. “It’s poison, you know. Anybody I touch with it gets tortured. To death. No cure. Been looking for one. But it’s a curse, you know, there aren’t cures. But I keep looking. I just keep looking and looking and looking, but nothing I hear turns out to work. Like today, I mean. They said if I came here then I’d find what I was looking for. Nope.” He sighed, and leaned some more on the louder guy. “Don’t you think I’ve tried hard enough? But nope. But this time, this time I’ve decided, no more. There’s too much of all this,” he sighed, waving his bandaged hand in the air. “And none of it gets me anything. So I’m moving on.”
Well, if Koishikawa had learned anything from serving people alcohol for a living, it was that everybody has a story. That was quite a story, though. Even though he might’ve had a bit too much already, Koishikawa refilled the guy’s glass anyway. He sounded like he needed it.
“Wow.” For once, the louder guy sounded like he couldn’t come up with anything to say. “That sucks.”
The quieter guy pursed his lips and sighed again. “Mm, it could be worse. Anyway, it’s just like your cousin.”
The louder guy blinked blearily. “...Howzzat?”
The quieter guy sipped vaguely at his sake and focused on the louder guy as though he was about to impart the knowledge of the universe. “Well, you can’t fix what you can’t fix, can you? So you’ve just got to move on. Move on,” he said again, accompanying it the second time with a sweeping gesture, like he’d meant to do that the first time and hadn’t thought of it yet.
“Yeah,” the louder guy agreed, nodding very slowly and then picking up speed. “Yeah! You are such a smart guy!” he added, a sloppy grin spreading across his face, like that was the wisest advice he’d ever received.
Well, at least he wasn’t pining for his cousin anymore. “So what’re you going to do now? Either of you,” Koishikawa asked, picking up the empty cups from the other tables.
The louder guy looked like he was about to respond, and pointed his finger like he had something to say, but then seemed to completely forget what that was. “I...dunno.”
The quieter guy had stopped tracing the rim of his empty glass and moved on to rolling it in circles around the table. “I’m going to act,” he answered decisively, nodding.
A rather surprising response. “Oh, you’re an actor?” Koishikawa asked, taking the empty cup away from the quieter guy in case it rolled off the table and broke.
“Well, I’ve never done it before,” the guy replied, tapping Koishikawa’s hand with a finger before Koishikawa could pull it away, “but it doesn’t look hard. I bet I could. I can dance, anyway. And I’ve always wanted to. Don’t you think that sounds nice?”
It sounded kind of irresponsible and dumb, actually, but Koishikawa held his tongue. It did actually kind of sound like fun, sure, but it wasn’t like a person could just run off and become an actor. Actors came by every once in a while, and the life sounded pretty damn difficult. Especially if a guy couldn’t act. And Koishikawa just couldn’t shake the feeling that this guy could not act.
“Hey, I can act!” the louder guy interjected, elbowing the quieter guy. “Can I come?”
“Sure!” That had to have been the first time the quieter guy had smiled since he came in today. It was a good thing these guys had found each other, Koishikawa decided. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Kenya--Oshitari Kenya,” the louder guy drawled, then made some stupid pun with the name. It was a real groaner, but one couldn’t really blame a drunk guy.
The quieter one laughed like it was a great joke, though. “You are so funny!” he giggled, pushing Oshitari in the shoulder like a flirting girl. “We could make an acting troupe, and you could do comedy routines or something! We would be so cool,” he grinned. “I’m Shiraishi Kuranosuke, and it is great to meet you.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Koishikawa butt in, since it just didn’t seem right to let these guys dream without thinking it through first. “Making an acting troupe isn’t that easy, you know. You need to plan things out, you need to know how to advertise, you need to know how to set up. You can’t just run off and--”
“That’s perfect!” Oshitari interrupted, reaching out to grab Koishikawa’s sleeve. “You think of everything!”
“Then that can be your job,” Shiraishi nodded. “Err, what was your name, again?”
“Koishikawa Kenjirou,” he replied dubiously, wondering what he’d just gotten himself into.
“Ken-chan can handle the business stuff, and you and I can do the artsy stuff, Kenya,” Shiraishi decided, immediately using nicknames despite their only just having met.
“Wait, wait,” Koishikawa tried to go back. He’d never agreed to this harebrained scheme, had he?
“Oh, it’s ok,” Shiraishi waved away Koishikawa’s complaints, but then promptly passed out against Oshitari’s shoulder. Figures he couldn’t hold his liquor.
“So we can leave, like, tomorrow, right?” Oshitari continued, unfazed.
Screw it. There was no point arguing with drunk people. He sighed, “You know what? Sure. Help me with this guy,” he added, throwing Shiraishi’s arm around his shoulder to haul him to his feet. Just in case, though, he was careful with the bandages.
Oshitari was barely in better shape than Shiraishi, but at least he was conscious. He got Shiraishi’s other arm, and together they helped drag the poor guy to his room. Despite wobbling worse than a tree in an earthquake, Oshitari was surprisingly fast--nearly outran them both before he got too far and tripped. He had muttered a slurred apology out of which Koishikawa understood the words “Power,” “speed,” and what might have been “cousin,” but by this point he wasn’t exactly intelligible. They got Shiraishi to his room well enough, but as soon as Oshitari wasn’t carrying anyone, he was out stone cold on the floor. It seemed like too much effort to try to put him anywhere else.
Well, that was that. Koishikawa figured he’d best go pack.
*
It was extremely bright. Extremely bright. And Shiraishi had the most terrible headache. Why had he woken up, again?
There was someone lying about half on top of him, still asleep. It was probably that boy from the night before, whose cousin left. Kenya, wasn’t it? Shiraishi certainly didn’t remember having done anything untoward, but apparently he had wound up in Shiraishi’s room anyway. Oh well.
There was an uncomfortably loud knock on the doorframe. It felt rather like getting stabbed in the head with something. Kenya jolted awake with a miserable gurgling noise. Thankfully, instead of knocking again, whoever it was simply slid the door open.
“So?” Ken-chan stood in the doorway, carrying a bag and looking far too cheerful for it being this early. “You guys ready to go, or what?”
Kenya did not sound as though he was in very good shape, not that Shiraishi was in much better. “Whassgoinon?” he groaned, attempting to roll over and nearly elbowing Shiraishi in the head.
Shiraishi shut his eyes for a moment so that the sun would stop hurting them. “Were we going to leave today?” he tried to ask, disappointed that his voice was so groggy and yet unable and rather unwilling to fix that just yet.
“We decided on that after you’d passed out. I didn’t figure you’d mind,” Ken-chan offered helpfully. He probably wasn’t actually talking as loudly as it felt like he was, but Shiraishi did still wish he would be a bit quieter. He really shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night.
“Wait...who’re you?” Kenya mumbled, blinking blearily up at Shiraishi. His eyes weaved in and out of focus.
“We’re in an acting troupe together,” Shiraishi explained, patting Kenya lightly on the head with his good hand. “You and me and Ken-chan over there.”
“Ok, great,” he drawled, making silly faces as he attempted to wrap his head around the idea. “So... who’re you, again?”
~