My life never ceases to amuse me.
In other news, I'm behind on commenting. I'm sorry. If I haven't commented on a particular entry, it's not because I'm uninterested, I promise. At least I'm not as far behind on comments as I am on homework.
And now, so that I can pretend to myself that this entry is worthwhile, here are two random, old-ish, crappy pieces of Golden Pair fanfiction. They're a little fluffy but not overly so. They're all right. I guess.
Kikumaru Eiji hated Shakespeare.
It was not because he disliked English (although it wasn’t his favorite class) or literature in general.
It certainly was not because he disliked drama class; he was always willing to be in the spotlight.
It wasn’t because he had anything against Shakespeare himself. He almost never held grudges for long, and Shakespeare was dead, anyway.
But on this particular day, Eiji hated Shakespeare and all his stupid, stupid plays. Well, not all of his plays. Just one, the play that had become the bane of the redhead’s existence.
Romeo and Juliet.
The drama club of Seishun (which none of the tennis players belonged to) had decided to try something new. It had invited all the other school clubs to participate: the history club, the go club, the shogi club, the basketball club, and, of course, the tennis club. The drama teacher asked each of the clubs to prepare a scene from a Shakespeare play. The club members would work on costumes, lighting, props, and their acting abilities. Then, at the end of two months, the clubs would each perform their scene.
Eiji hadn’t been against the idea at first. As a matter of fact, he had been bouncing up and down in his seat with excitement.
But, he reminded himself sternly, that was a long time ago. Well, about an hour ago, actually. But it doesn’t matter, nya! Eiji thought furiously. I still hate Shakespeare very, very much! He couldn’t remember hating anyone more, ever, in all his life.
When Eiji had been excited about the idea, after all, he hadn’t known that they would have to work with the girls’ tennis club as well.
At that very moment, as Eiji stood and glared (something he didn’t do very often), the female members of the tennis club were discussing who would play Juliet in their scene. Actually, all of the girls were arguing over who got the coveted role. They had decided to do the ever popular, ever romantic balcony scene, and every girl present wanted to be the female lead.
Not only did Eiji hate Romeo and Juliet, he hated that one scene with a special kind of passion.
“What’s the matter, Eiji?”
“Nya, Fuji,” Eiji replied grumpily. He looked up into his friend’s smiling face. “I hate this play, nya.”
“Why?” It was a very simple question, but it the answer was one Fuji should have known already.
He hated it because it was Oishi, his Oishi, his doubles partner, who had been picked to play Romeo. Someone should have asked me if I minded, Eiji thought, staring at the group of people around Oishi.
He had been so sure that it would be Tezuka-buchou, or Fuji, or maybe Ochibi who would be picked to play Romeo. He’d thought maybe, even he himself would be picked, and then everything would have been fine.
He was very, very mad at the girl who had suggested Oishi for the role. He wasn’t sure which one it had been, because they’d all gone wild over the idea. For some reason, Eiji hadn’t noticed how much all the girls in the tennis club liked his doubles partner.
Eiji started. “Oh, Fuji! Sorry, nya.” He glared at the bickering girls again. “You know why I don’t like it.”
“Hmm.” Fuji suddenly got a certain, troublemaking look on his face. “Maybe you should talk to Oishi.”
“But he already accepted the role, nya!” Eiji wailed loudly.
Of course, that caught everyone’s attention. Everyone turned to stare at the acrobatic player curiously, including Momoshiro, who seemed to be in the process of sneaking away from the discussion.
Oishi’s face was the picture of concern as he walked over. “Eiji, what’s wrong?” he asked anxiously.
Although Eiji wasn’t quite sure what to say, Fuji was ever ready to think of something. “Oishi,” he began cheerfully, “if you could pick anyone, who would you want to play Juliet?”
All the girls drew in a collective breath, and watched the sweet, sensitive vice captain hopefully.
Oishi himself looked rather bewildered. “I...ah...if I could pick anyone?” He glanced at Fuji.
“Anyone,” Fuji confirmed, with a special kind of emphasis.
Eiji had changed the target of his glare from the girls to his “best friend,” having missed the meaning behind Fuji’s statement. If there was one thing Eiji did not want to know, it was which girl Oishi would pick to be Juliet.
Oishi still looked like a deer caught in the headlights (which he had the whole time he’d been being fought over, actually), and was gazing helplessly around, seeking help. He found none in Fuji’s unrepentant smile. Eiji, of course, was still busy glaring.
“If I could pick anyone...” Oishi said hesitantly, “Well, if you really mean anyone...then I would pick-”
Eiji tried not to listen, because he really, really, really didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know what girl Oishi maybe liked, no matter who it was!
“-Eiji.” Oishi finished. Eiji was prepared to begin sulking again, to stalk off to the locker room-the boys’ locker room!-so that Oishi would follow him and ask him what was wrong without any girls around!
Fortunately, the girls’ gasps alerted him to the fact that something was up before he could put his plan into action. He glanced around quickly, and suddenly...
Oishi’s statement sank in. He blinked, looked at Oishi, who was blushing and watching the ground. The girls were giggling and whispering amongst themselves, but Eiji didn’t even notice.
“Oishi,” he said, blinking again. “Really, nya?”
“Really, Eiji,” Oishi said quietly, meeting Eiji’s eyes.
Oishi was immediately subjected to a gleeful tackle, much to the delight of the girls.
The tennis club’s Shakespeare scene went over very well. The drama teacher praised the casting job especially. “Their Romeo and Juliet were the most sincere and believable I’ve ever seen!” she gushed.
And if anyone thought Juliet seemed slightly unused to wearing a dress, they didn’t comment.
Kikumaru Eiji was leaving school early for a doctor’s appointment. He left his second-to-last class (algebra) with a cheerful good-bye wave to Fuji, then went sailing through the halls at a pace that wasn’t usually allowed in school.
He hesitated as he walked out into the sunshine; he’d forgotten to do something. Eyes widening, he remembered and raced around the building to the tennis clubroom. He searched in his pockets for a scrap of paper and a pen. After finding them, he hastily scribbled something on the paper.
Eiji allowed himself to inspect what he’d written to make sure it was right, then grinned. Pulling a roll of tape out of his backpack, he stuck his note to the wall that was across from the door so that it would be visible the second someone walked in. Then he bounded away towards home, where his mother was waiting for him.
Momoshiro was the first one to see the note as he came into the clubroom with Echizen right behind him. “Ha, first ones here,” he gloated, before noticing the paper on the wall. “Hey, what’s that?” he asked, going to inspect it more closely.
“How should I know?” Echizen asked, sounding rather uninterested.
Momo grinned semi-evilly as he read the note. “It’s Kikumaru-senpai’s handwriting.”
“Then it’s not for you,” Echizen pointed out, unzipping his tennis bag.
Momo ignored that comment completely. “Huh. I don’t know what the heck it says, though,” he said, puzzled. “I thought it’d be a love note for Oishi-senpai or something, but it’s just-”
The rest of the tennis team chose that moment to begin making their appearance. The second Kaidoh entered the room he glowered suspiciously at Momo. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at this note,” Momo said, too busy trying to figure it out to add an insult. “I think it’s a note, anyway.”
“A note to who?” Horio chimed in, peering past Momo to take a look. “Who’s it from?”
“It’s from Kikumaru-senpai,” Momo explained.
Kaidoh let out a hiss of disbelief. “Why would Kikumaru-senpai write a note for you?”
Momo turned to face him at that, rolling his eyes. “It’s not for me, mamushi, obviously.”
Kaidoh hissed again. “You shouldn’t read someone else’s note.”
“I can’t read it, anyway,” Momo said disgustedly, turning to the note again. “It’s just a bunch of numbers.”
Even Kaidoh was now curious enough to look at the note. All of the younger members of Seigaku’s team, as a matter of fact, clustered around Momo to see the mysterious piece of paper. All except Echizen, who appeared to be taking a nap on a bench in the corner.
On the paper were written eight numbers: one-four-five-one-zero-one-zero-four. They were written in Eiji’s scrawling handwriting, recognizable to anyone who had ever seen it.
“Hmm, maybe it’s a secret code!” Momo said excitedly.
“Who do you think it’s for?” Arai asked him.
“Oishi-senpai,” Momo pronounced with a grin. “Remember the last time? When Oishi-senpai left that sappy note on Kikumaru-senpai’s locker and we all read it?” All present murmured their agreement except, again, for Echizen, and also Kaidoh, who just hissed. He usually didn’t go about reading notes that were intended for a senpai.
“Well, I bet they’ve developed a secret code!” Momo announced, sounding quite sure of himself. “So that we can’t read their notes anymore! Now we just have to break this code somehow!” Again, everyone but Echizen and Kaidoh agreed. Kaidoh just hissed in disgust and started getting ready for practice.
Momo got busy code-breaking, sitting down on the floor and brandishing his math notebook. He flipped to an empty page and started writing. “Maybe it’s just some kind of code where numbers stand for letters,” he muttered to himself, writing down what was on the note. “That should be easy to figure out.”
Everyone watched over Momo’s shoulders, completely forgetting that they would have to practice as soon as the senior tennis players arrived. Momo scribbled furiously in his notebook, intent on discovering the meaning of the note.
Momo had tried several numbers-to-letters codes by the time the older club members arrived. Oishi walked in first, and stared at the scene in front of him with some consternation. All of the freshmen and juniors were apparently gathered around Momoshiro, who was doing...homework?
Tezuka walked in next and narrowed his eyes. He cleared his throat, making everybody jump in surprise...everyone except Momo, who was engrossed in his work. Horio tapped Momo on the shoulder, saying quietly but urgently, “Senpai-”
“Quiet, you’re breaking my concentration,” Momo said irritably. “Maybe the numbers stand for kanji...?” he mused.
Tezuka snapped him out of it by saying, “Momoshiro, twenty laps, now.”
Momo leaped up in surprise, dropping his notebook, earning him a snicker from Echizen. “B-buchou!” he stammered. “Sorry, I just-”
“Go,” Tezuka commanded. Momo quickly obeyed, not even bothering to pick up his notebook. “To the rest of you, I apologize. The senior classes ended late today. Now get ready for practice.”
There were many hasty replies of acquiescence and the freshmen and juniors alike hurried to comply. The notebook and the piece of paper were left abandoned on the floor and the wall, respectively.
Tezuka strode over to the papers and picked up the notebook to study it. “Hmm. Do you know what this is?” he asked Oishi, Fuji, Taka, and Inui, showing them and gesturing to the note on the wall.
Taka and Fuji shook their heads, Fuji smiling all the while, perhaps knowing more than he was telling. Inui said, “No, but it appears to be a code of some sort, in Kikumaru’s handwriting. The numbers are more aligned than his usual writing, which is strange. I would be glad to undertake a study-”
Oishi suddenly laughed, realizing what the note was, and they all looked at him. “I know what it is,” he explained, still laughing. “It’s part of the homework Eiji and I were working on yesterday.”
“So it’s not a code?” Inui inquired. “The even spacing implies some kind of visual-”
“No, it’s not a code,” Oishi told him, pulling the note off the wall. “Just some homework.”
Tezuka nodded shortly. “Good. Take it with you so that it’s no longer a distraction.”
Oishi put the note in his pocket, smiling to himself when he saw the notebook with Momo’s complicated series of numbers and letters. It was, indeed, a code, no matter what he told Inui, albeit a very simple one. Everyone else had yet to figure it out: that series of numbers, when turned upside down, spelled “hoi oishi.”