cashew (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} cashew) wrote,@ 2005-02-09 00:33:00 |
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The Prince Cafe - Chapter 04
Title: The Prince Cafe
Chapter: 04
Fandom: Tenipuri
Pairings:
Hints of TezukaxAtobe, MomoxRyo, and OishixEiji. Maybe if you squinted
really hard you can make out a vague shadow of something resembling
MizukixYuuta and TezukaxFuji.
Disclaimer: Original series belong to Konami-sensei. I take absolutely zero claim for this.
Idea for this story was inspired by the newest set of clear cards with "The Prince Cafe" theme.
Author's Note: Man, this one took a while. I finally have the character's voice back in my head. Feedback is loved and coddled as usual. Plus, you know, all that stuff about good karma.
====
Chapter 04 – Lather, Rinse, Repeat
Ignoring the arguing teens at table 3 and the “Save me, Buchou!” looks that Echizen was throwing him from his position between Akutsu and Atobe, Tezuka approached the writhing form at table 12. A quick scan confirmed that it was indeed St. Rudolph’s manager that was convulsing on the floor.
Deliberately ignoring his glaring teammate for the moment, Tezuka addressed Yuuta, “Fuji-kun, I apologize for your manager’s misfortune at our café. I’ll get Kawamura to send you and Mizuki-san to the hospital.” Before Fuji could interject, Tezuka plowed on, “Fuji. Would you mind getting Kawamura from the kitchens?”
Without a word, Fuji turned around to carry out Tezuka’s orders. Before he could leave, he was stopped by Tezuka’s “Oh, and Fuji? I’d like a word with you when Kawamura leaves with our customers.” Fuji nodded in affirmation before stomping off to get their chef.
Tezuka left Mizuki in Yuuta’s capable hands, sure that the St. Rudolph student will survive now that the threat to his life has been removed momentarily. Quickly, he headed to the windows where Echizen was holding onto his status being whole by the skin of his teeth, as the tug of war started anew once Atobe had dismissed Mukahi. Or, Tezuka was reasonably sure, once Atobe had banished the acrobat to the icy hell of inner Siberia for a failed spying attempt on Kikumaru.
“What seems to be the problem?” he addressed the trio, not wanting to directly ask either Akutsu or Atobe, but 12 years of discipline at his grandfather’s dojo prevented him from being rude and directing the question at Echizen. Therefore, unfortunately, it was Atobe who first answered.
“Ah, good that you’re here, Tezuka. I was demanding that Echizen here served ore-sama, since ore-sama was the first one to be seated. That is the convention, ne?”
“Hey, Peacock. I believe I was here first.” Akutsu interrupted before Tezuka could respond.
Completely ignoring Akutsu, Atobe continued to stare at Tezuka, waiting for a resolution.
“Please unhand my waiter first.” Tezuka nodded at the hands that were still tugging Echizen in opposite directions. With a much put upon sigh, Atobe released Echizen first, causing the still tugging Akutsu to fall over, taking Echizen with him.
“Akutsu-sempai, careful!”
“Get your hand off our ichinen, you bastard!”
Simultaneously, two screaming voices came from opposite sides of the room. From direction of the kitchens Dan Taichi came running over, while Momoshiro had left table 3 to the still quarreling Kamio and Kaidoh and was striding menacingly toward the still fallen Akutsu-Echizen pair.
“Momoshiro, get back to your job,” Tezuka ordered in an unusually loud voice, a trace of his annoyance creeping into the firm tone.
Momoshiro stopped in his tracks but refused to turn away, choosing instead to glare at Akutsu as Dan approached to help his sempai up. As Echizen stood up and brush himself off, Momoshiro asked from afar, “Yo, Echizen. You okay?”
“Hai, Momo-sempai.” Echizen tossed a nasty glare at the cause of his fall and sighed when he saw it was a wasted effort. Atobe was completely ignoring him in favor of garnering Tezuka’s attention. Tezuka, on the other hand, was looking at him with a slightly concerned light in his eyes. He nodded for his buchou’s benefit and picked up his dropped pen and pad before heading off to other tables, leaving the chaos for Tezuka to resolve.
Tezuka turned to Atobe as Echizen wandered off and asked, “Atobe. What are you doing here?”
“Why, for a cup of coffee of course. That is what one gets at these coffee shops, is it not?” The answer was flippant with false innocence. Tezuka stared intently and waited for Atobe to give another explanation.
“Oi, stop looking at me like that. I can assure you, my intentions are perfectly innocent,” Atobe reproached. As Tezuka’s face remained unmoved, Atobe finally relented, “All right, perhaps I had hoped that after an enjoyable cup of French Latte that I could interest you in a friendly practice match.”
“I’m afraid I must respectfully decline,” Tezuka replied coldly, not bothering to elaborate.
“Ah, don’t be always so stern, Kunimitsu-kun.”
An absolute silence fell on the café at the sound of Atobe uttering Tezuka’s given name. Even the noisy cicadas had quieted to mark this rather momentous event in history, when Atobe Keigo had, apparently, turned suicidal.
“If that will be all, Atobe, I will tell Fuji to come take your order,” Tezuka replied with a glacier emphasis on Atobe’s name.
Clearly not recognizing a death threat when issued one, Atobe continued to probe, “Just one game. Surely you have time in your training for a measly one-set-match?”
“Sounds like a good idea,” a familiarly warm voice spoke up from behind Tezuka. Face passively blank, Tezuka turned and bowed.
“Yamato buchou,” he addressed respectfully.
“Hey, hey, you’re the buchou now, Tezuka,” Yamato teased lightly, patting Tezuka on the shoulder. “And I say Atobe-kun here does have a point. Practice with a national level player can’t be harmful for your training.”
“It is not a part of our training regimen and I am needed here,” Tezuka answered respectfully.
“Your team has faired when you left for Germany. I’m sure they’ll be able to survive the time it takes for you to play a one-set-match.”
“But –”
“After all, Tezuka, a house that is supported only by the pillar is bound to fall sooner or later,” Yamato assured Tezuka, then added, “I’ll pass on to Fuji that you’re momentarily occupied and tell him to wait.”
“Thank you. Then I will leave them to your hands momentarily.” After bowing in gratitude, Tezuka left with Atobe in tow to gather his tennis equipment and head to one of the nearby street courts.
Watching the two buchous leave, Yamato clapped his hands, getting the attention of the Seigaku team and announced, “All right everyone. Let’s get back to work.” At his order, the café once more buzzed into action.
Satisfied with the result, Yamato threw his arm around Inui, who was heading to the bar, and began walking back with his kouhai. “Inui, I’ve heard a lot from Ryuzaki sensei about a special formula you’ve been brewing for the team’s health. I’ve been wondering…”
*
“Yo Echizen!” Momoshiro plucked the wandering waiter from his way back to the dining lobby from the kitchens and tugged him into a far corner.
“Momo-sempai?”
“Don’t you want to see the match between Buchou and Atobe?”
Echizen made a face that indicated Momoshiro should have known him well enough by now that it goes without question. “Hai. But we’re not suppose to leave.”
“Ah, Echizen,” whined Momoshiro, “don’t be such a wet blanket. Even Buchou made exceptions!”
“But Momo-sempai…” Echizen’s voice was taking on the trilling quality of whenever he was exasperated with one of Momoshiro’s half-baked schemes.
“What’s the monkey up to now?” Kaidoh appeared out of nowhere hissing on the other side of Echizen.
“Oi, watch your mouth, Mamushi,” Momoshiro warned over Echizen’s head.
“I’d say your mouth is the one that needs to be sealed,” Kaidoh hissed back just as vehemently.
Echizen felt his brain slowly numb with boredom as his two sempai-tachi once again were arguing with each other, their voices slowly escalating. If this keeps up, he thought unceremoniously, we’ll never sneak out of here, even if it’s Yamato buchou watching over us.
“Oh, hey, the waiters are here? Lah-kee!”
The trio suddenly froze at the familiar voice.
“That voice is…” Momoshiro began.
“…Yamabuki’s…” Kaidoh followed.
“…Sengoku,” Echizen finished with despair.
“Hey, hey!” The cheery Yamabuki fukubuchou draped himself over the three huddled Seigaku tennis players.
“What do you want?” Momoshiro asked with annoyance. Kaidoh just hissed.
“Na, is that how you treat your customers?” Sengoku replied the question with a hurt look.
“Hai,” was Echizen’s tactless answer. Unfortunately, it did nothing to deter Sengoku from continuing to latch onto the three youngest Regulars like a sea star to an abalone. Though the trio struggled valiantly, Sengoku still managed to drag them back to the dining area, where he was seated with Akutsu, and had them take his order.
*
Oishi bowed succinctly to his former buchou and jumped into his questions immediately. “Yamato buchou, where is Tezuka?”
“Yes, sempai, where is our fearless leader?” Fuji’s anger simmered near the surface, barely held in check out of his deference and respect for his former buchou.
“Ah, I believe he’s playing a friendly match with Atobe at the guest’s request,” Yamato replied with an absent-minded calm as he stared intently at the swirling neon blue and purple drink in the glass flute Inui handed to him.
“A match with Atobe?” Oishi’s distressed voice rose a few octaves. His query was matched by a similar outburst from Fuji, who was no longer wearing his ubiquitous smile.
“Eh? Tezuka is in a match?” Eiji, who was told repeatedly by his double’s partner to keep the fort in the kitchen now that they were one chef short, suddenly plopped himself on Oishi.
“Eiji!” Oishi twisted to give his wayward partner a reproachful look. “Why are you here?”
“Nya? I heard Oishi yell and thought you sounded distressed,” Eiji answered matter-of-factly.
“But if you’re here,” Fuji wondered out loud, “who’s manning the kitchen?”
Five heads turned toward the kitchen as a loud explosion was heard.
Title: The Prince Cafe
Chapter: 04
Fandom: Tenipuri
Pairings:
Hints of TezukaxAtobe, MomoxRyo, and OishixEiji. Maybe if you squinted
really hard you can make out a vague shadow of something resembling
MizukixYuuta and TezukaxFuji.
Disclaimer: Original series belong to Konami-sensei. I take absolutely zero claim for this.
Idea for this story was inspired by the newest set of clear cards with "The Prince Cafe" theme.
Author's Note: Man, this one took a while. I finally have the character's voice back in my head. Feedback is loved and coddled as usual. Plus, you know, all that stuff about good karma.
====
Chapter 04 – Lather, Rinse, Repeat
Ignoring the arguing teens at table 3 and the “Save me, Buchou!” looks that Echizen was throwing him from his position between Akutsu and Atobe, Tezuka approached the writhing form at table 12. A quick scan confirmed that it was indeed St. Rudolph’s manager that was convulsing on the floor.
Deliberately ignoring his glaring teammate for the moment, Tezuka addressed Yuuta, “Fuji-kun, I apologize for your manager’s misfortune at our café. I’ll get Kawamura to send you and Mizuki-san to the hospital.” Before Fuji could interject, Tezuka plowed on, “Fuji. Would you mind getting Kawamura from the kitchens?”
Without a word, Fuji turned around to carry out Tezuka’s orders. Before he could leave, he was stopped by Tezuka’s “Oh, and Fuji? I’d like a word with you when Kawamura leaves with our customers.” Fuji nodded in affirmation before stomping off to get their chef.
Tezuka left Mizuki in Yuuta’s capable hands, sure that the St. Rudolph student will survive now that the threat to his life has been removed momentarily. Quickly, he headed to the windows where Echizen was holding onto his status being whole by the skin of his teeth, as the tug of war started anew once Atobe had dismissed Mukahi. Or, Tezuka was reasonably sure, once Atobe had banished the acrobat to the icy hell of inner Siberia for a failed spying attempt on Kikumaru.
“What seems to be the problem?” he addressed the trio, not wanting to directly ask either Akutsu or Atobe, but 12 years of discipline at his grandfather’s dojo prevented him from being rude and directing the question at Echizen. Therefore, unfortunately, it was Atobe who first answered.
“Ah, good that you’re here, Tezuka. I was demanding that Echizen here served ore-sama, since ore-sama was the first one to be seated. That is the convention, ne?”
“Hey, Peacock. I believe I was here first.” Akutsu interrupted before Tezuka could respond.
Completely ignoring Akutsu, Atobe continued to stare at Tezuka, waiting for a resolution.
“Please unhand my waiter first.” Tezuka nodded at the hands that were still tugging Echizen in opposite directions. With a much put upon sigh, Atobe released Echizen first, causing the still tugging Akutsu to fall over, taking Echizen with him.
“Akutsu-sempai, careful!”
“Get your hand off our ichinen, you bastard!”
Simultaneously, two screaming voices came from opposite sides of the room. From direction of the kitchens Dan Taichi came running over, while Momoshiro had left table 3 to the still quarreling Kamio and Kaidoh and was striding menacingly toward the still fallen Akutsu-Echizen pair.
“Momoshiro, get back to your job,” Tezuka ordered in an unusually loud voice, a trace of his annoyance creeping into the firm tone.
Momoshiro stopped in his tracks but refused to turn away, choosing instead to glare at Akutsu as Dan approached to help his sempai up. As Echizen stood up and brush himself off, Momoshiro asked from afar, “Yo, Echizen. You okay?”
“Hai, Momo-sempai.” Echizen tossed a nasty glare at the cause of his fall and sighed when he saw it was a wasted effort. Atobe was completely ignoring him in favor of garnering Tezuka’s attention. Tezuka, on the other hand, was looking at him with a slightly concerned light in his eyes. He nodded for his buchou’s benefit and picked up his dropped pen and pad before heading off to other tables, leaving the chaos for Tezuka to resolve.
Tezuka turned to Atobe as Echizen wandered off and asked, “Atobe. What are you doing here?”
“Why, for a cup of coffee of course. That is what one gets at these coffee shops, is it not?” The answer was flippant with false innocence. Tezuka stared intently and waited for Atobe to give another explanation.
“Oi, stop looking at me like that. I can assure you, my intentions are perfectly innocent,” Atobe reproached. As Tezuka’s face remained unmoved, Atobe finally relented, “All right, perhaps I had hoped that after an enjoyable cup of French Latte that I could interest you in a friendly practice match.”
“I’m afraid I must respectfully decline,” Tezuka replied coldly, not bothering to elaborate.
“Ah, don’t be always so stern, Kunimitsu-kun.”
An absolute silence fell on the café at the sound of Atobe uttering Tezuka’s given name. Even the noisy cicadas had quieted to mark this rather momentous event in history, when Atobe Keigo had, apparently, turned suicidal.
“If that will be all, Atobe, I will tell Fuji to come take your order,” Tezuka replied with a glacier emphasis on Atobe’s name.
Clearly not recognizing a death threat when issued one, Atobe continued to probe, “Just one game. Surely you have time in your training for a measly one-set-match?”
“Sounds like a good idea,” a familiarly warm voice spoke up from behind Tezuka. Face passively blank, Tezuka turned and bowed.
“Yamato buchou,” he addressed respectfully.
“Hey, hey, you’re the buchou now, Tezuka,” Yamato teased lightly, patting Tezuka on the shoulder. “And I say Atobe-kun here does have a point. Practice with a national level player can’t be harmful for your training.”
“It is not a part of our training regimen and I am needed here,” Tezuka answered respectfully.
“Your team has faired when you left for Germany. I’m sure they’ll be able to survive the time it takes for you to play a one-set-match.”
“But –”
“After all, Tezuka, a house that is supported only by the pillar is bound to fall sooner or later,” Yamato assured Tezuka, then added, “I’ll pass on to Fuji that you’re momentarily occupied and tell him to wait.”
“Thank you. Then I will leave them to your hands momentarily.” After bowing in gratitude, Tezuka left with Atobe in tow to gather his tennis equipment and head to one of the nearby street courts.
Watching the two buchous leave, Yamato clapped his hands, getting the attention of the Seigaku team and announced, “All right everyone. Let’s get back to work.” At his order, the café once more buzzed into action.
Satisfied with the result, Yamato threw his arm around Inui, who was heading to the bar, and began walking back with his kouhai. “Inui, I’ve heard a lot from Ryuzaki sensei about a special formula you’ve been brewing for the team’s health. I’ve been wondering…”
*
“Yo Echizen!” Momoshiro plucked the wandering waiter from his way back to the dining lobby from the kitchens and tugged him into a far corner.
“Momo-sempai?”
“Don’t you want to see the match between Buchou and Atobe?”
Echizen made a face that indicated Momoshiro should have known him well enough by now that it goes without question. “Hai. But we’re not suppose to leave.”
“Ah, Echizen,” whined Momoshiro, “don’t be such a wet blanket. Even Buchou made exceptions!”
“But Momo-sempai…” Echizen’s voice was taking on the trilling quality of whenever he was exasperated with one of Momoshiro’s half-baked schemes.
“What’s the monkey up to now?” Kaidoh appeared out of nowhere hissing on the other side of Echizen.
“Oi, watch your mouth, Mamushi,” Momoshiro warned over Echizen’s head.
“I’d say your mouth is the one that needs to be sealed,” Kaidoh hissed back just as vehemently.
Echizen felt his brain slowly numb with boredom as his two sempai-tachi once again were arguing with each other, their voices slowly escalating. If this keeps up, he thought unceremoniously, we’ll never sneak out of here, even if it’s Yamato buchou watching over us.
“Oh, hey, the waiters are here? Lah-kee!”
The trio suddenly froze at the familiar voice.
“That voice is…” Momoshiro began.
“…Yamabuki’s…” Kaidoh followed.
“…Sengoku,” Echizen finished with despair.
“Hey, hey!” The cheery Yamabuki fukubuchou draped himself over the three huddled Seigaku tennis players.
“What do you want?” Momoshiro asked with annoyance. Kaidoh just hissed.
“Na, is that how you treat your customers?” Sengoku replied the question with a hurt look.
“Hai,” was Echizen’s tactless answer. Unfortunately, it did nothing to deter Sengoku from continuing to latch onto the three youngest Regulars like a sea star to an abalone. Though the trio struggled valiantly, Sengoku still managed to drag them back to the dining area, where he was seated with Akutsu, and had them take his order.
*
Oishi bowed succinctly to his former buchou and jumped into his questions immediately. “Yamato buchou, where is Tezuka?”
“Yes, sempai, where is our fearless leader?” Fuji’s anger simmered near the surface, barely held in check out of his deference and respect for his former buchou.
“Ah, I believe he’s playing a friendly match with Atobe at the guest’s request,” Yamato replied with an absent-minded calm as he stared intently at the swirling neon blue and purple drink in the glass flute Inui handed to him.
“A match with Atobe?” Oishi’s distressed voice rose a few octaves. His query was matched by a similar outburst from Fuji, who was no longer wearing his ubiquitous smile.
“Eh? Tezuka is in a match?” Eiji, who was told repeatedly by his double’s partner to keep the fort in the kitchen now that they were one chef short, suddenly plopped himself on Oishi.
“Eiji!” Oishi twisted to give his wayward partner a reproachful look. “Why are you here?”
“Nya? I heard Oishi yell and thought you sounded distressed,” Eiji answered matter-of-factly.
“But if you’re here,” Fuji wondered out loud, “who’s manning the kitchen?”
Five heads turned toward the kitchen as a loud explosion was heard.