Entry tags:

fanfic series: psydai, fanfic: tenipuri

PsyDai: Princes of X
Title: Princes of X

Series: PsyDai

Fandom: Tenipuri, knowledge of X/1999 would be useful.

Author: Me

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue, etc.

Summary: Atobe tries to make a musical. It might have worked better if it wasn't an adaptation of CLAMP's X/1999.

Author's note: The result of when fandoms collide. Also, this story took way too long to finish.

===

“I’ve got a brilliant idea.”

Tezuka looked up from where he’d been reading on his bed to see Atobe bursting into his shared room waving a pile of papers and looking triumphant. Without waiting for an invitation, the diva plopped himself into Tezuka’s lap, eyes glowing with a proud sparkle that meant he’d probably had consorted with Yamato-buchou and came up with a new way to torment the tennis team. It hadn’t surprised Tezuka in the least when Yamato had taken to Atobe like cat to cream, considering this was the same man who had advised Tezuka to utilize Inui’s genius for the betterment of Seigaku back in Junior High. The twin speculative looks Yamato and Atobe keeps shooting him during tennis practice was, however, slightly disconcerting.

Looking to the other side of the room, Tezuka saw Sanada scrunch deeper into his seat and buried his nose into a textbook, pretending not to notice. Tezuka mentally rolled his eyes at the childish avoidance tactic.

“What is it?” he asked dutifully to the still expectant Atobe, whose eyes seem to have gotten even brighter with mischief if that were possible.

“We’ll put on a play for the fund raiser,” Atobe told him with barely suppressed excitement. Ignoring the “what fund raiser?” look Tezuka was wearing, Atobe shifted to sit across from Tezuka, carelessly shoving Tezuka’s legs out of the way as he made himself comfortable. “Ore-sama have came up with the perfect stage adaptation of CLAMP’s famous work, X.”

Tezuka tucked his legs under himself dutifully to make room for Atobe as he listened to the announcement. However, once Atobe’s words sank in, he paused significantly, letting his silence speak for him.

Atobe remained undaunted.

“It’ll be a musical,” he was explaining as he continued to wave the stack of paper in his hands, sending loose pieces fluttering to the floor. “Since ore-sama is a genius, I’ve managed, with some slight help from Ohtori, to recruit the school orchestra to help provide live instrumental accompaniment to the show. We’ll need to arrange for rehearsals soon if we want to meet the dead line of course, but this shouldn’t be a problem as ore-sama is the most efficient director known to mankind and as hopeless actors as some of the peons in the tennis club may be, ore-sama has full confidence that I can turn them into spectacular actors within a fortnight.”

Then pausing, Atobe fixed Tezuka with a scrutinizing stare, asking, “Well?”

“Atobe...” Tezuka began slowly, rolling the words over his tongue as he collected his thoughts, “can you sing?”

Atobe blinked blankly before letting out a sound of outrage and smacked him in the nose with the stack of paper. Sanada snorted from behind his book.

~*~

While Tezuka did not usually put insane ideas above Atobe’s antics, he had nonetheless expected Atobe to have given up on his absurd musical. Therefore he was rather surprised to walk into tennis practice the next day to find Atobe wearing a lopsided cap and shouting orders through a megaphone.

The image neared disturbing when people scrambled to follow his orders.

“What’s going on here?” Tezuka demanded as he walked onto the courts-cum-makeshift-stage, taking in the chaos and gingerly stepped over a sleeping Jirou who, amazingly, remained non-trampled in the hubbub.

“Practicing for the musical, Tezuka-kun,” answered a warm voice from behind. Tezuka turned to see the opaque lenses of Yamato’s sunglasses shine eerily at him. “Didn’t Atobe-kun inform you yesterday of our new schedule?”

Well, that explained the chaos.

Tezuka didn’t think “I thought he was being Atobe” would go over very well. Instead, he gulped silently and wondered how he can disappear for the next few weeks.

Before he could come up with a proper response, Atobe had suddenly appeared by his side, towing him away by his sleeve and yelling through the megaphone, “All right everyone, gather round. Time for the casting call.”

Tezuka followed in a slight daze, looking back apologetically at Yamato for his rude departure.

Meanwhile, Atobe had settled himself comfortably into a folding chair, the back of which was inscribed in large capital letters “DIRECTOR”, and was reading from a purple folder.

“Well, as you all know, our cast is limited,” Atobe was saying, one hand still holding firmly onto Tezuka as though he was afraid Tezuka would run away at the first opportunity. Balancing the folder on his lap, he freed his other hand to hold the megaphone as he continued, “Therefore, ore-sama had labored over the audition entries to pick out the best suited cast for this production. The rest of you will contribute your talents by joining the backstage staff, which I’m sure no one will object to.” Atobe’s glare informed them that any objection will be dealt with quietly and possibly in deadly ways.

No one objected, except for Tezuka who hissed, “What audition?”

“Don’t worry, you’ve been exempted,” Atobe reassured him in a stage whisper, which did nothing to relieve Tezuka’s tension. Then louder, Atobe continued, “The role of the prophetess Hinoto-hime will go to Oishi.”

“What?!”

The protesting screech had came from a flustered Oishi who was looking slightly pale. As everyone turned to look at him, Oishi stuttered, “B-but...I’m not a girl.”

“Well, considering that we don’t have females in the boy’s tennis club, someone has to play the female parts,” Atobe dismissed the protest with a sideways glance. Then, smirking, he added, “Unless you’d rather play the evil sister, Kanoe?”

“I would suggest keeping the part of Hinoto,” Oshitari advised aloud to Oishi, his eyes shining with wisdom borne of reading the entire CLAMP collection. “Kanoe is rather impressively female, if you know what I mean.”

The gathered tennis players collectively turned to look at the former Hyoutei tensai in curiosity. Oshitari merely pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, letting the sunlight bounce off the flat lenses in a scary glow as he informed the rest of the team, “I happened to be acquainted with the material.”

Silence reigned supreme.

Finally Oishi broke the silence with his acceptance. “Ah, I’ll take the part then.”

“Good,” Atobe affirmed. Then continuing he announced, “Since we’re on the subject of Kanoe, the part shall be played by Mizuki.”

All that greeted the announcement was a disturbing “nfu” followed by Mizuki’s odd giggly mutterings of “This will be the perfect opportunity for me to try out that new pair of heels I bought.”

The group took a collective step away from the cackling former manager.

Seeing his announcement taken as positively as can be hoped for under the circumstances, Atobe plunged on, continuing with, “And Kanoe’s lover Yuuto shall be played by Yuuta.”

While most contented themselves to wince silently at the pun, a few were more than willing to vocally express their dislike.

“Who the hell helped you make the cast list? Oshitari?” yelled Shishido from the outer edge of the group while Yuuta’s older brother turned a gentle shade of vermilion demanding, “Yuuta will not play that part.”

Ignoring Shishido’s outburst and turning his attention to the elder Fuji, Atobe asked sweetly, “Then are you volunteering?”

Fuji’s eyes twitched open at the suggestion as he warily glanced in Mizuki’s direction where Mizuki was currently doing something to Yuuta that was causing the younger boy to stumble backwards into a pile of redheads. Narrowing his eyes, Fuji nodded.

Tezuka pinched Atobe’s arm in rebuke at the subtle manipulation. Atobe blithely ignored him.

“As for Yuuto’s stalker and sometime misconstrued love interest Satsuki,” he spoke calmly as he eyed those around him, daring them to interrupt.

None did.

“...will be played by Inui.”

A disagreeing hiss followed this announcement. Tezuka closed his eyes against the following disaster.

“What?” That was Inui.

“No way! Inui-sempai is stalking Fuji-sempai? Oi, where does that leave you, mamushi?” Momoshirou asked much too loudly.

“Fssssh,” was all Kaidoh had to say on the subject.

“Is Seigaku’s spastic behavior infectious?”

“Shishido-san!”

Those weren’t Seigaku.

“Nya, Fuji, you shouldn’t try to date Mizuki and Inui at the same time, even if they are both data players.”

“Eiji, shut up, shut up!”

Those were.

And finally to round up the chaos, “Mada mada dane.”

Prying one closed eye open, Tezuka sent a cold glare to Atobe who was looking smug at the reaction.

“Happy yet, Atobe?” he asked through stiff lips, trying to will his headache away.

Atobe merely smiled back at him, saying, “Not yet.” Then, after a pause for effect, he brought the megaphone once more to his mouth to announce, “And naturally, the role of Satsuki’s cybernetic lover, Beast, goes to Yanagi.”

Silence suddenly fell on the chaos that had been the squabbling former Seigaku tennis players as everyone’s attention turned to the silent Yanagi.

“Is that wise?” Tachibana questioned, the only one who seemed to dare to speak up in the bone-chilling silence.

“Of course,” Atobe answered with a certainty borne of being an Atobe. “Ore-sama’s casting is perfect. Besides, Niou’s already managed to convince most of the school that Yanagi is a malicious script anyway. The part of an evil computer numbered 666 is perfect for him.”

While Tachibana facefaulted slightly at the answer, Yanagi spoke in a calm monotone, “Niou, you will die a horrible and violent death involving painful exsanguination and decapitation. I thought you would like to know that.”

Niou swallowed dryly and took a small step away from the blasé Dataman.

“I thought Yanagi wasn’t a pre-cog. How does he know how Niou will die?” Eiji hissed loudly to his partner who in turned shushed him physically. Not satisfied with the silence, Oishi dragged Eiji a little further away from the quietly fuming Yanagi.

“I suppose I should have casted Niou as Beast’s victim,” Atobe murmured under his breath as he took in the response. Then brightening, “Maa, what’s decided has been decided, thus Beast’s victim, Inuki, will be played by Karupin.”

“Oi!” Echizen protested against the casting of his cat as the first sacrificial animal to the robot.

Meanwhile, others were bringing up a much more reasonable question.

“Inuki...isn’t that a dog?” Saeki asked, voice slightly muffled.

Tezuka raised a brow at Atobe’s smug countenance. “You’re going to cast a cat to play the part of a spirit dog?”

“Well, it’s the only animal that’s available,” Atobe defended, ignoring Echizen’s indignant sputtering in the background. “Ore-sama certainly isn’t going to cast Elizabeth as a ghost dog, especially considering who’s been casted as Inuki’s owner.”

“And who gets the role of the perky Yuzuhira?” Oshitari asked with interest. The entire mass of students shifted warily away from the curious tensai.

Atobe either didn’t notice the sudden unanimous movement or chose to ignore it just as he ignores everything else not pertaining to him directly and announced proudly, “The only person who could possibly match her enthusiasm, Kentarou-kun of course.”

“All right! I got a part! Whoopee!” Kentarou cheered and did a small victory dance while the mass of students shifted yet again, this time to form an empty ring around the ecstatic Kentarou.

“No way!” Echizen yelled out, looking murderous, an accomplishment for the usually apathetic boy. “I’m not letting that maniac anywhere near Karupin.”

“Echizen-kun,” purred Atobe in his I-am-two-seconds-from-calling-the-Yakuza-voice, “Kenatrou will play the part of Yuzuhira, Karupin will play the part of Inuki, and you will play the part of the androgynous bioroid Nataku. If I hear one more word of dissent from you, you will get casted as the corpse that was fed to the sakura, am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Echizen bit through his teeth. His eyes said “Die die die die die!”

Ignoring the silent death threat from the chibi, Atobe looked up to confide to Tezuka who was wearing his usual stoic expression, which meant Tezuka was only barely reining in his temper, “I had considered casting Ohtori as Inuki, but the thought of a perky Shishido made me sick.”

As Atobe finished his confession, a small rumble could be felt underfoot and the desperate plea “Shishido-san, please calm down!” drifted in from the edge of the group. Atobe ignored the tremors and continued to announce his casting.

“And courting our ebullient Yuzuhira, Kaidoh will be playing the part of Kusanagi.”

“I refuse.”

Atobe seemed to have been prepared for the refusal as he smoothly told the glowering Kaidoh, “You’ll get to play with Karupin.”

That seemed enough to cause the usually asocial boy to waiver, pausing as he seriously considered the benefits to be gained against the humiliation of participating in one of Atobe’s schemes. Meanwhile, Atobe took the silence as consent and moved on, stating, “And the fiery redheaded vixen Karen shall be played by Kamio.”

“No way! I’m not playing a girl!” Kamio suddenly rushed up to where Atobe was sitting serenely and yelled into his face. Atobe leaned back to avoid the spittle.

“Actually,” interrupted Oshitari who had been closest to Atobe and had unfortunately been sprayed by association, “Karen is a vivacious woman, not a girl.”

“A prostitute, in fact,” Atobe added to the explanation.

The revelation did nothing to calm Kamio.

“I won’t do it! You can’t make me! I’ll quit the tennis team first!”

Atobe did not look the least flustered. Instead, he agreed amicably, “Fine, I’ll cast Mukahi instead.”

“What?! No way! Why me?” Mukahi yelped as he suddenly realized he was being casted as a whore.

“Because, ore-sama needed a redhead for the part,” Atobe explained with utmost patience.

Pointing at his rival, Mukahi demanded, “Cast Kikumaru. He’s a redhead and with how easy he is—”

Mukahi didn’t get to finish his sentence as Eiji suddenly appeared by his side, an angry aura glowing menacingly as he demanded, “What exactly are you implying, Mukahi?”

“Well it’s not like Oishi had to work hard to get you to sprea—mff!” Mukahi’s vulgar words were thankfully cut off as Oshitari slapped a palm over the runaway mouth.

Meanwhile, Atobe merely looked on calmly, waiting for the ruckus to calm down. Beside him, Tezuka tried to pull himself away and failed as Atobe’s grip tightened on his wrist. Tapping his fingers against the arm of his seat, Atobe waited for order to return once more as Oshitari physically dragged Mukahi away and Oishi gathered enough senses to come collect his own partner. As something resembling silence fell, Atobe continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted.

“Attempting to date the Karen, the kindly editor Seiichirou shall be played by Kawamura.” No words of dissension came and Atobe pressed on, mentally reminding himself to make sure all phallic objects were removed from the premise during dress rehearsals. “And the part of Seiichirou’s nephew Daisuke shall be played by Akutsu.”

At the mention of the name, pandemonium rose once more.

“You’re kidding!”

“No way!”

“Is he even in the tennis club?”

Finally Tezuka bent over, raising his voice above the angry buzz and asked “What possessed you to cast him, Atobe?”

“I wanted to see his head on a pike,” answered the diva with a far off look in his eyes, scowling as he remembered past offenses committed by the subject of contention. Then shaking himself from his memories, Atobe boomed into the megaphone, “Quiet please! Now the next in the cast list is the dream gazer, Kakyou. The role goes to Jirou.”

No one argued over that point, concentrated as they were on voicing objections against casting Akutsu in the play at all thereby forcing interaction of some sort from the rest of the club with the delinquent. Therefore it was Tezuka who once again pointed out the small problem, “How will Jirou speak his lines if he’s asleep?”

“Simple,” Atobe responded through the cacophony of yelling disagreements, “Yukimura is casted as the dreamscape Kakyou.”

Tezuka didn’t try to talk any more sense into the other boy, merely resigning himself to the catastrophe. “At least you didn’t cast him as someone’s boyfriend. Otherwise Sanada would never let you hear the end of it.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Atobe blinked up at Tezuka with false innocence, eyes flashing maliciously. “Kakyou is Hokuto’s boyfriend, who, incidentally, shall be played by Niou.”

“What?!” yelled Niou and Sanada in unison at the announcement. Atobe turned his attention from Tezuka to give the two a loathing stare.

“Ore-sama is casting Niou as Yukimuar’s on stage girlfriend. Although I’m aware that Rikkai Dai’s education is sorely lacking, do try to keep up with the simple things,” Atobe sneered at the two gaping Rikkai Dai alumni.

“Why do I have to play a girl? I don’t want to play a girl,” wailed Niou, stepping to hide behind Yagyuu when he saw Sanada give him the evil eye. “Besides,” pointing to Sanada, Niou added, “he’ll try to kill me.”

“Don’t worry Niou, your death belongs to me,” Yanagi assured his former teammate with disturbingly serene face.

Atobe sighed in slight exasperation and explained with utmost patience, “Because, Niou, you’re playing the part of a twin and you imitate people uncannily, although I wouldn’t say this is a good thing. However, this does mean that I shall have more freedom to cast the part of Subaru, who I’ve decided would be best played by Ibu.”

“I don’t see why I have to play the dysfunctional emo twin to Niou’s Hokuto-chan. After all, it’s not like I’m depressed or have an unhealthy fixation with things or have a hard time letting go of the past. Although I guess some people might bring up the incident in Junior High with Ryoma and the grip tape, but that was because it was good grip tape and there was only one roll left and I should have gotten it since I saw it first. And it’s not as if I didn’t pay for half of it either so I should have at least gotten half of the grip tape, but then Ryoma got all the grip tape just because he won the competition. It wasn’t even a real competition and it’s not fair that I didn’t get the grip tape even though I paid for half of it. Even if Ryoma paid me back afterwards, I still should have gotten half the grip tape that I originally paid for, since that’s what I expected...”

As Shinji mumbled on, Niou goggled from his hiding place behind a very put upon Yagyuu and stated emphatically, “I refuse to play a twin to that thing!”

“A dead twin,” Atobe corrected absentmindedly as he scanned the casting list. Ignoring the indignant protests from Niou and the mumblings of Shinji that no one could make heads or tales of, he continued to announce, “And playing the part of the emo Subaru’s enemy-cum-love-interest, Oshitari will have the role of Seishirou.”

Atobe turned to stare at Oshitari, waiting for him to voice his opinion. Oshitari contemplated the revelation for a full minute, allowing Shinji to continue in his rambling undisturbed save for the bursts of protests coming from Niou, before drawling in his smooth Kansaiben, “I don’t know, Atobe. Don’t you think the part of Seishirou fits you better?”

“How so?” Atobe asked, intrigued and wary simultaneously.

“Well, you share similar traits: obsessive, compulsive, possessive, prone to jealousy, have stalker tendencies, and not to mention uncontrolled murderous impulses. You were made for the role of Seishirou. Besides, if I get a role, I should get to play the part of the Kansai-monk, don’t you think?”

“Yuushi as a monk?” Mukahi finally pipped up with a loud cackle. “No way, you haven’t got enough self control!”

Meanwhile, Atobe pinned Oshitari with a cold stare. “Actually, the skirt chaser Sorata will be played by Sengoku, who is much more suited to the role. And you will play Seishirou.”

“But, Atobe—” Oshitari began and was immediately interrupted by the sudden appearance of Shinji who looked completely serious for a wild moment and declared with utmost gravity, “If I’m going to play your lover in this musical, I insist on being seme.”

Oshitari sweatdropped at the solemn expression on Shinji’s face. Mukahi sniggered uncontrollably behind his hand.

“And speaking of Sorata,” Atobe interrupted the awkward moment as he drew the megaphone to his mouth again, “Sorata’s love interest will be played by Sanada.”

As everyone stared in horror at Atobe’s amused satisfaction, Sanada calmly declined with a simple, “I refuse.”

“Don’t be stubborn, Sanada,” Atobe reprimanded, ignoring the tense atmosphere that rose among the spectators or the urgent warning tugs Tezuka was pulling against his sleeve. “You fit Arashi’s profile to a T: cold, reserved, and have a unnatural fondness for the katana. There’s the added bonus of you disliking Sengoku—”

Atobe didn’t get to finish when Oshitari seemed to have recovered from is Shinji induced shock to pipe in with “Except he’s not a girl.”

“Minor difference,” scoffed Atobe with a dismissing wave. “He’s not the only cross-dressing actor in this musical. Besides, you would think exposure to Niou would have increased his appreciation for costumes and wigs.”

Seeing his argument with Atobe is a fruitless endeavor, Sanada turned to Yanagi and asked, “Renji, about that exsanguination...”

Niou turned a few shades paler.

As the former Rikkai Dai students plotted the death of one of their own, Atobe finally moved onto the last roles in the musical. With a triumphant grin, he announced, “As for the main leads, the roles shall go to ore-sama and Tezuka.”

“And which Kamui are you casting yourself?” Oshitari, the only one who seemed at all interested, asked. The rest of the tennis players just wanted to get the entire farce over and done with in the shortest time possible.

“Ore-sama is Fuuma.”

“Atobe, playing a character does not make you said character,” Tezua admonished at the same time Oshitari snorted in a distinctly uncharacteristic manner and scoffed, “Are you saying you have a multiple personality disorder?”

“Wouldn’t that make Kirihara a better candidate?” Kamio asked as he overheard the conversation.

“You still haven’t casted the role of Kotori,” interjected Inui, his glasses flashing ominously. Everyone quickly quieted turned to look at him with a new perspective. Sensing the silent question of how someone like him could know the intricacies of a shoujo manga, Inui quickly flipped open his cell phone and answered, “Her name came up in a quick Google search.”

As everyone took a moment to contemplate how despite their disagreement with most of Atobe’s casting choice, his choice for Satsuki was disturbingly accurate, Atobe declared, “Kotori shall be played by Tachibana.”

“I hope you meant my sister,” Tachibana muttered just loud enough for Atobe to hear. Meanwhile the rest of the group had took the time to burst into more incoherent squabbling.

“Now everyone take a copy of the script and we’ll begin rehearsal tomorrow. I suggest you learn your lines quickly,” Atobe announced through his megaphone. Then finally finished with the casting call, he placed the instrument on the floor and handed a script to Tezuka, saying, “You and I should get a head start on our choreography.”

This time, Tezuka didn’t resist the urge to snort. Taking his copy of the script, he deadpanned, “I just have one question: How do you plan to do the special effects?”

“Oh, that’s simple,” Atobe answered as he passed on the script copies to the drearily waiting actors, finally letting go of Tezuka’s arm. “Ore-sama has already ordered strobe lights.”

“So not only are you planning to make the audiences’ ears bleed, you’re determined to give them seizures too.”

Atobe turned abruptly at the comment and threw Oishi’s copy of the script into Tezuka’s face.

~*owari*~