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Jun. 5th, 2010 07:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8chaTitle: Mensural Notation
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairings: Pretty gen, some Kaidoh/Momo, Tomoka/Sakuno, Akutsu/Chinen, Atobe/Kite/Mizuki
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Summary: AU The Orchestra makes it into the Japan National Symphonic Orchestra Competition, members of the orchestra go about their own lives. (More... exciting than it sounds?)
The orchestra room was an example of symphonic dissonance. Atobe stood at the front, leaning on the piano while talking to Ibu Shinji. The bright blue wand in Atobe's hands flickered back and forth as he talked, dictating nothing but instead expressing the flow of Atobe's words. Shinji played his fingers up and down the piano keys, a light hearted tune with no real purpose pouring forth. It joined in the casual chaos of notes and scales preformed by the other members of the orchestra. Shishido and Ohtori sat talking, their reeds held between their lips to keep them wet. Yukimura was turned part way in his chair, his flute held carefully on his lap, his other hand motioning to Sanada so that the young man leaned forward. Tezuka Kunimitsu's bow moved steadfastly back and forth on his cello while he worked through the score yet again, tirelessly practicing the same few notes. To the casual observer, it looked like chaos, to the less casual observer, they would receive no hint, no tip-off that the orchestra was waiting for anything more than the beginning of practice.
The hallway outside the orchestra was quite, the faintest strains of chaos filtering through the orchestra room's thick walls and thick doors. Double ply glass panels set high in the doors afforded a view in, and a view out.
If anyone had been watching out of those doors at that very moment, they would have seem Momoshirou Takeshi round the corner at a run, his slippered feet barely keeping up with him, his legs propelling him down the hallway faster than was safe. Momoshirou hit the cold tiled wall of the hallway on the right side, and barely kept himself from smashing into the blue painted lockers on the left. He dodged around the jut of a water fountain, and kept a tight, slightly sweaty hold on the papers held in his right hand. The hallway was dark, light by a single line of occasionally flickering fluorescents, and the filtered light of a cloudy day.
Momoshirou did not slow down as he passed the sign reading 'no running in the halls'.
Crashing through the double doors of the orchestra room, Momoshirou held the papers aloft. Casual dissonance faded into baited breaths, everyone holding tightly onto the edge of their seat or their instruments. The door to the practice room housing Echizen Ryoma opened up and Ryoma leaned casually out the door, his violin propped on his hip.
"We're in!" Momoshirou waved the papers in the ear, his jubilant exclamation met by cheers, and the banging of Kintarou's cymbals. A dramatic drumroll from Shiraishi followed, and a spurt of brass fanfare.
"Calm down!" Atobe tapped his baton authoritatively on the edge of his stand. No one could hear him over their excitement."Cal-"
Sanada blared his trumpet, a sure sign that someone was going to end up with their face impacting the coarsely carpeted floor of the music room, and the room fell quiet. Atobe glared at the orchestra members, but nodded at Sanada, grateful for the quiet. Echizen Ryoma walked around the stands to take his seat as first chair first violin.
"Momoshirou, please take your seat." Momo hurriedly took his seat next to his stand partner, playfully bumping elbows with Muromachi before looking at Atobe. "Thank you." Atobe looked over the papers Momo had dropped on his stand. "We have been accepted into the Japan National Symphonic Orchestra Competition."
A small burst of easily quelled giddiness, one member remembering to tack on 'J.N.S.O.C. for short!' to the end of Atobe's statement, and then Atobe was back to speaking. "You know what this means. More practicing, more planning. I want to see all of you performing your best. I want your solos perfect, and I want you off book as soon as possible."
"Oh man" Aoi dropped his head forward so it nearly smashed into his stand, but was jerked back hurriedly by Kurobane. Aoi was the young, but not untried, first chair of the trombone section, a section that Atobe regarded as the 'bane' of his existence. Boners were absolute brats.
"Ahhem." Atobe cleared his throat. "Since practice, and classes, have been over for at least a half an hour, you are all now dismissed." The room dissolved into chaos once more as people scrambled for their music cases. Most of the woodwinds reached under their chairs and pulled out their cases, while the players with bigger instruments had to walk over to a large table that ran the length of the room by the practice rooms. Some of the members, Momoshirou Takeshi and Kaidoh Kaoru, jostled each other unnecessarily, their shouts almost loud enough to be heard over everyone else. Kintarou Touyama clung to the back of Echizen Ryoma's chair, nattering in his ear while Echizen carefully stored his violin. Kintarou's feet beat a tattoo on the ground, and his drum sticks whistled by Echizen's ear whenever Kintarou felt the need to punctuate his statements with broad sweeps of his hand.
Atobe slipped his conductors wand into its special bag and then gathered up his school books. Practice was the last class of the day, so most ended up bringing their back packs or books with them to class. Especially today when practice had continued after school ended while they all waited to hear back from the admissions board.
"Looking forward to the competition?" Fuji Syuusuke slipped himself onto the teacher's desk that Atobe had set his things on. Sakaki was out for the day, but he generally watched their performances and practices like a hawk. Sakaki was the official music instructor, but Atobe had been conducting the orchestra since he was a first year. "It gives you free reign to be as ruthless a dictator as you please."
"I am not a dictator Fuji, you just dislike being told what to do." Atobe glanced around for Fuji's horn case. Fuji had been known to purposefully 'misplace' his instrument simply to cause havoc. Thankfully Atobe saw it over by Tezuka who was zipping up his cello. Oishi, the first chair Viola, was standing by Tezuka's chair, leaning over the rail to talk to Kikumaru Eiji, one of the trombones, while also asking Tezuka a few questions. Oishi and Eiji were an odd pair, in that you never expected to hear a viola and trombone duet, but somehow they had managed to pull it off.
"That's true enough." Fuji pushed himself over towards Atobe's school books, and Atobe moved them out of the way. Kabaji, a contrabass along with Oshitari Yuushi, came over to pick the books up and store them in Atobe's bag, then Kabaji stood by the door, both Atobe's bag and his own tossed over his shoulders. Kabaji had been Atobe's 'manservant' since they were younger, carrying Atobe's books, his instruments, and other things. "So, does this mean that practices with the band will be suspended?"
Atobe shot Fuji an incredulous look, which Fuji negated with a close eyed smile. "Simply because you find it difficult to keep up with more than one band, Fuji, does not mean the rest of us do." Atobe sniffed. "Practices will still be held on Tuesdays at my house. Be sure not to be late this week."
"My sister's going to give me a ride, so I shouldn't be." Atobe snorted, showing how he felt about *that* statement. Fuji was either late or early, he was never on time. "I'll see you tomorrow." Fuji hopped off the table and wandered over to Tezuka, Oishi, and Eiji.
"I'll see you tomorrow too, Atobe-san." Ohtori nodded politely at Atobe while he made his way to the door. He had his clarinet case in one hand and his violin case carefully on his other shoulder. Ohtori was good enough on the violin to oust Echizen from his seat as concert master, but Ohtori had been playing clarinet in the orchestra since his first year. Ohtori did solos on the violin, and played for another orchestra on the weekends on violin as well. Ohtori waved goodbye to Shishido, who was sniping at Mukahi Gakuto, one of the trumpeters. Shishido waved back, and then Ohtori was out the door.
After stepping out of the wide swinging band room doors the first thing Ohtori looked towards was the staircase almost immediately to his right. There, standing with his arms crossed and attempting to look as nonchalant as possible, was Hiyoshi Wakashi. It was not love of music that kept Hiyoshi lingering around the orchestra room, it was stubbornness and an inability to fit music into his schedule. Hiyoshi was a jock to the core, he competed in the schools karate club, but more than that…
He had absolutely, totally, and completely tone deaf. Hiyoshi couldn't keep a steady beat either.
"You could have come inside, you know." Ohtori did not even bother protesting when Hiyoshi took his clarinet case from him and started walking down the halls. Ohtori had learned that if he protested, Hiyoshi would just get more and more adamant. Hiyoshi's guilt complex meant that he could not let Ohtori walk with two instruments and a backpack while Hiyoshi carried nothing but his schoolbooks.
"The last time I came inside Atobe kicked me out because I was a 'distraction'." Hiyoshi muttered. Ohtori looked down and was only able to see the top of Hiyoshi's head. "Besides, I was practicing for most of the time."
There was a fine sheen of sweat on the back of Hiyoshi's neck, so he probably had been in the gym training on the mats. "You could still have come in, practice was over." Ohtori adjusted the strap of his violin case and rounded the corner. "Do you want to come over to my house tonight? I need some help filling out the biology homework."
Hiyoshi snorted, and then held open the doors to the outside stair case. "If you just did the dissections like everyone else, Ohtori…"
"It's cruel and unusual!" Ohtori protested, passing Sengoku Kiyosumi and Akutsu Jin. Sengoku had his guitar slung over his back, and was leaning over the stair case railing to talk to Akutsu. Akutsu stood in the shadow of the stairs smoking. Ohtori held his breath while the passed Akutsu. Ohtori didn't like the scent of smoke.
"They're dead anyway." Hiyoshi jumped down the last three steps and waited for Ohtori to catch up. "It isn't like you are doing any good by not dissecting them."
"It's cruel and unusual and I'm protesting, Hiyoshi!" Ohtori reached into his bag and pulled out the fliers he had made. "You should join me." The fliers listed all the reasons that the school should stop experimenting on animals, and the possible other options that they could use for biology class. Ohtori had pleaded his case to Hanamura, the biology teacher, but she would not listen to him. She seemed to think that people should literally get their hands dirty when it came to dissections. It was almost enough to make Ohtori cry. There were all sorts of virtual ways to do dissections now, or even plastic models. Why did they need to continue this frog genocide?!
Hiyoshi batted the fliers away. "Put those away. I'm not joining your crazy plot to free the frogs." The light changed and the two boys crossed the street.
"They're cute, right?" Sengoku hopped over the railing to land next to Akutsu, only wobbling slightly from the five foot drop. Sengoku checked the padded guitar case on his back before nodding. "Seriously, if only we had frog dissections to bond over."
Akutsu flicked the flickering butt of his cigarette in Sengoku's direction, ignoring the chatter of orchestra players now forming a trickling stream out of the building. "Shut the fuck up numbnuts. What the fuck do you want anyway?"
"Akuchu!" Sengoku narrowly dodged the burning butt, and took a step forward towards Akutsu. Akutsu lifted one arm in threat, and Sengoku took a step back. "The battle of the bands? We can't practice properly without our bassist."
The band was Sengoku's, he had formed it on a crazy whim and had somehow, luckily, managed to find all the pieces parts he needed. Akutsu had learned how to play contrabass because of his mother, but had quit classical because it was a waste of time. He had picked up the electric bass quickly, and was damn good at it. Sengoku played guitar, and was the only person who could convince Akutsu to show up to rehearsals and performances. Sengoku was also the person who pissed Akutsu off so that he did not show up for rehearsals. That and the chance to make it big and get a record deal. They had already put together a CD, and they did have a fan base. They played at local clubs and teen gatherings. Sengoku was back up vocals to Kisarazu Ryou, along with Ryou's brother Atsushi, who also played rhythm guitar. Chitose Senri was picked up to play drums.
"Battle of the bands is a waste of time." Akutsu stuffed his cigarettes under his shirt sleeve and turned to go. Sengoku jogged to catch up.
"But you like the cash prize." Sengoku stated cheerfully. "And the girls."
"You're the one who chases skirts." Akutsu did not bother waiting for the light to change and he was not some pussy who needed crosswalks, Akutsu Jin just walked right into the street. One car rolled to a stop, the driver inside looking pissed off. Akutsu flipped him off, ignoring the way Sengoku smiled and waved and mouthed apologies while running after him. The car sped up as soon as Akutsu and Sengoku had their feet on the other side of the street. "Fucking lame-ass driver." Akutsu looked over his shoulder Sengoku, who was struggling to keep his laughter silent. It was like everything he did amused Sengoku instead of scaring the other teen.
Dumb ass. Akutsu figured Sengoku would end up in a psych ward one day, maybe Sengoku would keep Dan company and save Akutsu from the inevitable torrent of 'come visit me' letters. "Stop fucking laughing, asshole. I would have run you over."
Sengoku smiled widely. "Lucky you weren't driving then!"
"You and your da-" Akutsu was about ready to pull out his cigarettes again when he noticed something that pissed him the hell off. Not that there was much in the world that did not piss him off. "DAN YOU GET OFF THAT FUCKING BIKE YOU LAME SHIT."
Dan Taichi scrambled hastily off Akutsu's motorcycle. Dan had just started middle school that year, but unlike geniuses like Echizen Ryoma he did not have the ability to make it into the top of the class. Dan played second flute, and if you felt like counting chairs, fifth chair. Dan was good, for his age, but not good enough. Akutsu spit to the side and started cursing Dan out, not like it ever did any good. Dan was immune to it after growing up in the house down the street from Akutsu.
Plus that idiot Sengoku tended to ruffle his hair and tell him 'it's all good, all good'.
"It fucking well is fucking not." Akutsu kicked dirt at Sengoku. "You don't touch the bike, Dan!"
"Don't touch the bike, don't touch your bass, what can I touch, Akutsu-senpai?" Dan looked pleadingly up at Akutsu, the stupid green headband Akutsu should have never worn to a gig and certainly should never have tossed off afterwards slipping down to cover one sad, pathetic looking eye.
"Your goddamn dick." Akutsu pulled a helmet on, stupid state laws fucking up his hair style, and straddled the bike. Over the roar of his engine Akutsu could make out Sengoku saying, really loudly, that Akutsu cared for Dan, deep, deep, deep down. "I DO FUCKING NOT." Kicking the engine into gear Akutsu rolled out of the parking lot, leaving Dan and Sengoku behind to eat his dust.
Dan had probably gotten his cooties all over the goddamn bike.
Akutsu roared down the road, easily passing Kaidoh Kaoru who was jogging down the road. For a musician Kaidoh was ripped, but it was because of the constant physical training he put himself through. Kaidoh believed that all the strength and breath control gained through exercise made him a better tuba player. It was hard to play the tuba without looking ridiculous, most brass players turned red in the face no matter how good their breath control was. The tuba was a big instrument too, and for marching band the sousaphone was just as bad. Kaidoh liked the big instruments, the were deep and supportive, not something loud and annoying like the trumpet, or whiny like the sax.
"Yo, viper!" Kaidoh hissed under his breath. He hated that nickname, and he hated the one who used it the most. Momoshirou matched Kaidoh's jogging pace with his bike. Momoshirou's saxophone case was strapped to his bike, unlike Kaidoh's tuba which was not really Kaidoh's tuba but actually the school's. The tuba was tucked away in the orchestra lockers, with a number of other large instruments or the instruments out on rent. Some students rented instruments so they would not have to bring their own in for practices. Kaidoh did not have the space, or the money, for a tuba of his own.
He dreamed though. When he played his tuba he imagined telling stories through it's long, mellow, bull frog like notes. Bum bum bum bum, bum badda bum bum bum…
"Viper!" Momoshirou just got longer the louder you ignored him, just like he only got louder the longer he played his instrument. Kaidoh could remember when Momoshriou had started playing the saxophone, he had sounded like a wounded goose calling out for a quick and painless death. He still sounded like a goose sometimes.
"What do you want?" Kaidoh snapped back at Momoshirou, easily pushing himself off a bit of uneven sidewalk. The sidewalks got progressively worse the further and further you got from the school, at least the way Kaidoh went. By the time Kaidoh reached the midway point between his house and the school he would be encountering thick roots disrupting the even lay of the path, and blocked off wet cement. Things got better from the midway point to Kaidoh's house though.
Momoshirou sped up and slowed down, looking distant and stupid. Not that Momoshirou ever looked anything but stupid. "Echizen's coming over tonight, do you want to come practice with us?"
Echizen really, really ticked Kaidoh off. Almost as much as Momoshirou did, but at the same time less and more. Echizen was at least intelligent, but he had this scarily sneaky way of squeezing himself under your skin so that before you knew it you actually liked it when he mouthed off. Kaidoh was still working on ignoring Echizen's mouthing off, instead of admitting that he liked it. Echizen was also a genius violin player, it was rumored he had already been scouted by professional orchestras. Kaidoh could not tell you if it was true, but he knew that Echizen came off cocky enough when asked to support the rumors.
"Idiot!" Kaidoh leapt over cracked pavement. "What good are a violin, a saxophone, and a tuba-less tuba player going to do?"
Momoshirou's bike swerved around a grate. "You still play piano, don't you, Kaoru-chan?"
That stupid, stupid recital his mother had signed him up for when he was five, and Momoshirou just happened to be in the audience. Kaidoh fumed. He hated being called Kaoru-chan.
He was not a girl, he was Kaidoh Kaoru damn it!
"Not for you, idiot." Picking up the pace Kaidoh turned down a side street, deciding to take the long way around. Momoshirou would have to go really out of his way if he wanted to follow Kaidoh now, and Kaidoh just wanted to be left alone. Kaidoh ignored the people on the road around him, like always. Except Kaidoh was always willing to stop to pet a puppy, or help someone carry their groceries, or help someone cross the street. His neighbors always knew they could call on Kaidoh Kaoru to mow their lawn or wash their car. Kaidoh even volunteered at the local retirement home for two hours a week.
He played piano in the lounge.
And no, he did not take requests.
…except when he did. It's not like old people wanted anything too hard to play, they were all tunes Kaidoh knew, and generally they were the same ones over and over and over again. One of the older women at the retirement home used to be some sort of singer. Her voice was fading and wobbly, but she sang along to the songs she knew.
Focused on his run and NOT on the people around him Kaidoh studiously ignored Kirihara Akaya and Yukimura Seiichi walking down the street on the opposite side. Kirihara was carrying his bassoon case tucked under one arm, and jogging ahead of Yukimura every few steps. Yukimura's padded flute case was zipped up in Yukimura's backpack, poking slightly out at the top.
"Sennnnnnnnnnnpai," Kirihara whined, grabbing at Yukimura's arm and dragging the older student along a few steps. "C'mon! You're so slow! By the time we get to Sanada-senpai's house all the snacks will be gone!"
Yukimura deliberately slowed his steps so that Kirihara was forced to match his pace. "Akaya, I've told you, just because you eat everyone else's share does not mean that *everyone* has bad manners." Yukimura was still unsure what had gotten the rambunctious, green eyed, seaweed haired second year hooked on him. Kirihara claimed it was after his Flight of the Bumblebee solo, but Yukimura was sure it had to be more than that. Kirihara played Basoon, an impressive instrument but not something you played and then idolized a flute player. Bassoons were lower, and were also reeds. One would think Kirihara would idolize someone like Shishido Ryou instead.
"Sanada-senpai doesn't have any manners." Kirihara sulked, clinging tighter, and forcing Yukimura to drag him two steps before Kirihara's natural energy caused him to jog ahead again. How someone with so much energy could sit through a two hour long orchestra concert was beyond anyone's guess. "And neither does Marui-senpai!"
While that was partially true, Marui always ate more than his share, it was not true about Sanada. Sanada had the most gentlemanly manners of anyone Yukimura had ever met. "Akaya, calm down."
Kirihara took a big breath and managed to calm down… a little. But then he started up again, like the Energizer Bunny. "If dinner runs late I am going to have to call my mom about it. Can we have a sleepover? I had a lot of fun when we did that before."
"It's Monday." Yukimura stated, holding Akaya back before the younger teen could dash straight into the street. A car sped by, and after checking both ways Yukimura let Kirihara run across before sedately following. Kirihara had apparently missed several classes in Safety School, Yukimura had almost seen him run down by a truck once. "We can not have a sleepover on a Monday, Kirhara." Yukimura had to smile at Kirihara's defiant pout. Turning Kirihara down always triggered that pout, before Kirihara threw a tantrum anyway. Things never got that bad when Yukimura was the one breaking the bad news. "We will have a small celebratory dinner for getting into the J.N.S.O.C. and then maybe we can convince Genichirou to lend us the dojo for a sleep-over this weekend." Sanada's father ran a martial art's school, and so Sanada was the only one with enough extra space for sleepovers. Of course, that was only if they were inviting Kirihara, Niou, Yagyuu, Jackal, Marui, and Yanagi. If it was just Sanada and Yukimura (or more often Sanada, Yukimura, and Yanagi) then they could just roll out the spare futons and squeeze into Sanada's room.
"But I want to sleep over tonight!" Kirihara whined. "And what's so big about getting into the J.N.S.O.C.? What IS it?"
"It's the Japan National Symphonic Orchestra Competition." Yukimura sighed. "Were you not paying attention at all when you signed the form?"
Kirihara glanced around sheepishly, scuffled his feet, and glanced up again. "…No?"
"The Japan National Symphonic Orchestra Competition is held every three years. It is a competition between Japan's high school level orchestras to see who can produce the best sound. Orchestras progress through a series of district, regional, and national level competitions, where they are tested rigorously on many factions." A cool, calm voice spoke from just above Yukimura's left shoulder. Yukimura glanced up and back, and smiled.
"Yagyuu, how long were you following us?"
Yagyuu pushed up his glasses. "Only from the cross-walks, you must have missed me."
"That's almost as creepy as when Yanagi does that!" Kirihara managed to unwrap his arms from the telephone pole he had jumped onto and clung to when Yagyuu spoke up. "Don't do it again!" Kirihara had a scratch on his face, running down his chin. It beaded with blood.
"Akaya, you scratched yourself." Yukimura tsked. "We should hurry. Renji will want you to disinfect it."
Kirihara futilely rubbed at the bleeding scratch, dotting the sleeve of his shirt with blood and smearing the blood over his cheek. Each swipe of his arm only made the scratch bleed more. "I hate it when he does that! It hurts! I don't want to."
Yagyuu pushed up his glasses, a habit he had picked up when he was younger. His glasses had always been falling down, so when Yagyuu stopped to think and needed to appear presentable he was always pushing his glasses up. Now even with perfectly fitted glasses he felt the need to adjust them when the time came to sound condescending. "We will be late, anyway."
"Nuh." Kirihara ran ahead several sidewalk squares, then stopped and turned. "Or we will! It's because the two of you are so slow!"
"You're going to bump into someone." Yukimura stated softly. "Like right now."
Kirihara made a face, because in Kirihara's mind he was never bumped into, other people were the ones that bumped into him. However as Kirihara was walking backwards and Tomoka was walking with her head down and earplugs in her ears, they both bumped into each other. Kirihara went down with a shouted curse word (FUCK) and Tomoka went down with an indignant squeak. Tomoka's pink leather bag fell off of her shoulder and tipped over to open up. A few books and her I-phone, which was covered in a pink flexi-skin case, tumbled to the sidewalk. Tomoka's earphones were tugged out of her ears and a tinny, blurred rendition of the latest pop hit blared.
"Ew!" Kirihara jumped off of Tomoka and rubbed at his body. "I have boyband cooties!"
Tomoka snorted, very unladylike, and glared at Kirihara from her sprawled state on the sidewalk. The only reason her panties were not showing was because she wore black tap pants under the school uniform skirt. "Ew! I have *faggotto* cooties."
Kirihara flushed hotly and glanced over his shoulder. Yukimura and Yagyuu were only a few feet away, and soon they had closed the distance. Kirihara gritted his teeth and tried not to lose his cool. "It's not a faggoto, bi- you. It's a bassoon!"
"Whatever." Tomoka stashed her things back in her bag and stood up, her earphones dangling from one finger. "It's still a wind instrument, seaweed brain."
Kirihara's eyes turned red as his blood pressure rose. He had heard from his doctor that it was completely natural, but that it should be avoided. Kirihara was on all sorts of weird blood regulation medication too, but nothing seemed to work. At least his heart had not burst yet. "Don't call me tha-"
Yukimura placed a hand on Kirihara's shoulder and squeezed. "Sorry for the trouble." Then Yukimura pushed Kirihara past Tomoka. "Excuse me, Osakada, we'll be late." Yagyuu passed Tomoka with a nod of his head, and the three of them continued to walk to Sanada's. Tomoka sniffed and popped her earphones back in, basking in the sounds of electronically modulated sexy boys. Continuing her walk Tomoka came to the crosswalk and had to wait.
Tomoka had to hurry if she hoped to get to Sakuno's in time to help Sakuno cook dinner. Sakuno lived with her grandmother, her parents had both died in an accident two years ago, and Tomoka liked to come over and help out when she could. Tomoka was good at helping out because she had to do it all the time at home, she was the oldest and her younger siblings were so annoying, they cried and screamed and tugged at her pigtails. Because of all of the time spent helping her mother in the kitchen or around the house Tomoka was a good cook and cleaner, which was not something that could be said of Sakuno. Sakuno was a good cleaner, but could not make anything but rice balls.
The light changed color and Tomoka hurried across the street. She had been friends with Sakuno for what felt like forever, even if it had only been a few years, and knew the route to Sakuno's house by heart. It was barely a hop, skip, and a jump away.
One song finished, and another began.
Kind of like relationships.
Tomoka had been through her fair share of relationships. She'd had this friend then that friend then this friend then that friend… and all of them had ended up telling Tomoka she was too loud, or too clingy, or just plain annoying. Tomoka had been starting to think something was wrong with her… but then she had started playing the trumpet and had met Sakuno. Sakuno played the *cello* and it was the most beautiful and underappreciated instrument ever. When Sakuno strummed her bow across those strings Tomoka felt her heart speed up. Once, Sakuno's playing had made Tomoka cry. Of course, Tomoka was having her first experience with PMS at the time, but still, it was Sakuno's beautiful playing that had gotten Tomoka's tears flowing.
Sakuno liked to listen when Tomoka played the trumpet too! Sakuno was not like the other trumpet boys, who laughed and ignored her, or like Tomoka's mother who told her to stop playing so loudly. Sakuno even clapped when Tomoka finished.
"Tomo!" Sakuno stood behind the thin screen door like she had been waiting for Tomoka. She probably had been, Sakuno was always waiting for someone, even if she was just waiting for her own shadow to jump out and scare her. "Grandmother just got back from the grocery store."
"Well, we can get started then!" Tomoka took a flying leap up Sakuno's front steps and smiled at her through the screen. Tomoka's smile was twice the size of Sakuno's, but Tomoka felt it paled in comparison to her friend's. "C'mon, I'm hungry." Opening the screen door, Tomoka darted inside Sakuno's house. Of course the first thing she did when she got to the kitchen was get out which pots and pans she needed.
Under a mile away Chitose Senri was doing something similar, instead of breaking out the pot though he was putting it away. "I keep finding bags." Chitose said into the phone, keeping an eye out for his sister while he stuffed the bag of pot into the trash. "Like seriously, I know I cleaned under the bed last week, but I found a bag there today!" Chitose reached for the paper napkins to crumple up and toss on top of the pot bag to hide it, but stopped himself. He was no longer a wasteful pothead, clueless about sustainability and thinking that helping the planet was tossing his soda cans in the recycling bin. Chitose believed in being green.
"Didn't we do a major clean up of your room this summer?" Shiraishi asked. He was lying on his bed staring up at the slowly wheeling blades of his room fan. It was almost as good as a strobe light. He was dressed in his white socks and his shorts, but his shirt lay off to the side, and the bandages around his arm were unwrapped and put away. His mother found ignoring the scars that ran up and down his arm easier to do if he did not wear bright white bandages wrapped around it. "How's this stuff keep appearing?"
"I think I might have hidden packets all around the room while stoned." Chitose rifled a hand through his dense curly hair. "Or maybe I have pot gremlins. I don't know." Opening up the fridge Chitose picked up the bottle of organic Lemon Ginger Echinacea and set it down on the counter. The fridge door closed behind him. "Seriously though, you think I have pot gremlins?"
Shiraishi laughed and rolled onto his side. "Pot gremlins? You didn't happen to smoke some of that weed before throwing it away, did you?"
Chitose tipped his head to the side so he could trap the phone under his ear. "You know I've been clean for ages. I'm not going to go and ruin that just because I found a bag in my room." Chitose poured himself a glass of juice and then put the bottle back in the fridge. "This Echinacea stuff isn't half bad, Kura."
Shiraishi knew that Chitose had been clean for ages. There had been an incident last year that Chitose did not like to talk about and Shiraishi only knew bits and pieces about from rumors. From what he knew Chitose and his best friend Tachibana Kippei were smoking it up with some upperclassmen and the two them started to experience some of the negative effects of marijuana. Shiraishi was not sure what happened next but it ended up with Chitose and Tachibana brawling in the parking lot outside the van, and Chitose in the hospital bruised and battered and half blind. From what Shiraishi had heard Chitose had denied allegations that it was Tachibana's fault and Tachibana never fessed up.
They had met outside the counselor's office after summer classes, both of them making up for missing a few too many gym classes during the year.
"I thought you'd like it. It's not fresh juice, as it's made from concentrate, but it's pretty good." Shiraishi studied his nails. Should he cut them? It didn't really matter when you played the drums, but Shiraishi liked to look presentable. Presentable and organic.
Chitose wandered back to his room. His parents were pretty cool about the blind thing, and they had always preferred organic food anyway. His sister Miyuki did complain about the lack of snacks in the house, but Chitose made sure she knew that her breasts would get bigger if she ate organic and that processed junk gave her pimples. She stopped complaining relatively quickly… or as soon as she grew from an AA to an A cup. Chitose was pretty sure that was just her body maturing though. The fact that they had moved away from food (primarily meat and dairy) stuffed with hormones probably meant that Miyuki would end up FLATTER than she would have been otherwise. Chitose was not going mention that any time soon.
"So how's Orchestra coming along?" Chitose set the juice on his desk and flopped down on the bed. He didn't attend, not since the accident. It was like a divorce. Chitose got to keep Battle of the Bands, Tachibana got to keep Orchestra. Tachibana also got the dog, but technically Gokutora was Tachibana's to begin with, and Chitose had never been a terrible good orchestral percussionist. There wasn't enough room to flow and the beats were all… normal. Unless you were playing the hard stuff, and that was only once in a blue moon.
"The Mahler's coming along." Shiraishi stated. The point of a timpanist was really just to be on time, much like a tuba player except with less lung work and more arm work. "I still it's a little tough for our group."
"It's just delicate." Chitose shrugged. Atobe had wanted to wow the judges, but also he thought that the orchestra could do better, harder pieces than they had been doing under previous leadership. Atobe was always reaching for the top. Chitose had liked that about Atobe, in fact Chitose really liked it about Atobe, even if Atobe was his competition at the Battle of the Bands.
Oh, there were a lot of good bands in the competition, but Atobe's team was the only one Chitose felt could give the unique sound of Lucky Idiots a run for their money. With Sengoku, the Kisarazu twins, Akutsu, and Chitose himself at the wheel they were sure to win this year.
"How's your practice?" Shiraishi asked Chitose, sitting up and checking his computer for IM updates and the time. He had a yoga class in about an hour. "You guys still working on that cover song?" Casually Shiraishi preformed a stretch. He hated just lying around while on the phone, in fact Shiraishi hated just lying around. Unless, of course, it was at the hill behind the school. That place used to be where Chitose used to light up, but Shiraishi found it was perfect for cloud watching. Some days you had to sit back and let the world spin around you.
"Yeah." Chitose pulled a few schoolbooks out of his bag. History homework today, which was cool. Chitose liked history, he found it exciting. He was considering it as a degree when he got out of high school. Chitose might think he was good enough to be a musician but he was not going to base all of his life plans around it. Plus his life plans changed every few months or so. "It'd be nice if we could get Akutsu to show up to a few more practices than he usually does, as his bass is key, but apparently his Mom instituted a curfew."
Shiraishi snickered. While Akutsu might be the tough punk around town everyone who was even vaguely associated with him knew that when his mom said jump Akutsu… really slowly and sulkily told her to fuck off before hopping on one foot. "Hey, look Chitose, I have to leave."
"Yoga?" Chitose questioned, and he could tell that Shiraishi had nodded distractedly. Funny how some people nodded even though you obviously couldn't see them over the phone. "Cool, catch you later, Kura."
"Don't wait up." Shiraishi flipped his phone closed and tucked it into his pocket before shutting his computer down. No need to waste energy. Shiraishi grabbed his yoga mat and turned off his lights before walking to his older sister's room. "Sis! I'm heading out!"
"Grab the grocery list from the fridge!" She shouted through the door. "Pick it up on your way home."
Shiraishi rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen to snag the list, then headed out the door in the direction of his yoga classes. Halfway there Shiraishi crossed the street and found himself behind Chinen Hiroshi. Chinen was a euphonium player for the orchestra. While you might not think there was much call for a euphonium player Chinen's instrument added an extra dash of awesome to their music. While a euphonium was similar to a baritone it was also different. …not that Shiraishi could tell you what the differences were.
Neither could Chinen.
Oh, Chinen could tell you that a euphonium had a smaller bell than a baritone, and wider bore (whatever that was). Chinen could go on and on about the subtle differences in sound. But in truth Chinen did not understand it. The parts he played were all marked 'baritone', and no one ever bothered to find out if there was a 'euphonium' part. Baritones and euphoniums looked similar in shops, and people couldn't tell the difference, often confusing between the two. Chinen pretended that such a thing upset him.
But really it didn't.
Chinen was often mistaken as a 'goth' because of the pallor of his skin and the heavy eyeliner he wore. He wasn't a goth, he just hated the sun. The eyeliner was all the fault of his mother. When his mom had separated from his dad she had worried that the split would cause her two children to begin 'acting out'. When neither Chinen nor his younger siblings had fits or needed counseling his mother had started worrying that there was some sort of *deep seated* trauma going on. So Chinen had pasted on some eyeliner and gotten really good at faking insomnia.
Oh, and he had bleached his hair. That was mainly Akutsu's fault though.
Chinen turned the corner and passed the froo-froo yoga/incense/spiritual healing store. It was not that Chinen thought yoga was ridiculous. As an exercise Chinen could appreciate it. It was the whole 'spiritual healing' aspect that got to him. That and the type of people who visited the store. Chinen might believe in the supernatural (mainly in ghosts) but he found the type of floaty hippy type who did yoga and talked about crystal healing annoying.
Chinen walked past the handful of boutique and specialty shops as well as one or two restaurants before he hit the diner he was looking for. Ignoring those eating outside Chinen opened the door. The little bell above the door tinkled. The attractive woman behind the counter scowled at Chinen.
"Jin's working." Yuuki didn't snap at Chinen, but she did make it clear that she did not appreciate his company.
Chinen bit back a sigh. It wasn't his fault Yuuki didn't like him. Actually he was not sure why Yuuki did not like him, so it might be his fault. He assumed it was not though. There were only two of Akutsu's friends that Yuki did like, Sengoku, and Taka. Everyone liked Taka, not liking Taka was an action rather similar to kicking a three-legged dog and then spitting on it. Even Akutsu liked Taka, though he denied it. Yuuki probably liked Sengoku because he was cheerful and clean-cut. She might also have liked Sengoku because he flirted outrageously with her. Yuuki was young enough to appreciate being flirted with by a boy her son's age. Even if it was creepy.
"Let him sit at the goddamn counter, woman!" Akutsu shouted. He was dressed in a little white apron that tied in the back, and he had his hair pushed out of his face and held back by black bobby pins.
"The counter is for customers, Gin!" Yuuki didn't shout, but she spoke loud enough ot be heard over the hubbub of the café. Despite her protests though, she pointed out an open seat for Chinen. Chinen and the regulars were used to the byplay between mother and son, and Chinen could see several regulars smiling into their drinks or sandwiches. He also noted a handful of newcomers who looked annoyed. Chinen hoped they realized Akustu was going to spit in their drinks. People who annoyed Akutsu rarely came back to the café, Akutsu could be a very, very, very unpleasant server.
They weren't good tippers anyway, so it wasn't like Akutsu cared.
"So, you gonna order something or just sit there looking like a bad wax mannequin?" Yuuki questioned. Chinen smiled unsurely at her and she cracked a small smile back at him. Chinen was pretty sure Yuuki was warming up to him, albeit slowly. It helped that Chinen did not curse, or shout like her son.
"Just some iced tea." Yuuki jotted that down and wandered off to take care of the other customers. Chinen waited, and waited, and nodded at a few old timers who recognized him, and eventually Akutsu brought the long tall glass of iced green tea to him. Yuuki generally only served black iced tea, but Chinen preferred green. "Hey, Gin, I didn't see you after practice."
"Sengoku pissed me off." Akutsu's fingers twitched, Chinen could tell he was gunning for a smoke. Yuuki had a no smoking inside policy. Akutsu jerked his head towards the back and Chinen shrugged, picked up his drink, and followed Akutsu out the back door. Once they were outside the heavy metal door closed behind them and Akutsu was digging his cigarettes and a lighter out. Chinen personally did not smoke, but he was willing to stand beside Akutsu sipping iced tea while the other teenager did so. "What'd you come around for?"
"I just wanted to hang out."
"Tch." Akutsu took a long drag on his cigarette before turning and blowing the smoke into Chinen's face. Chinen lazily waved it away. "You want to make out pale face?"
Chinen considered the offer long enough to make Akutsu twitchy.
"Fucker if you do-" Akutsu stifled his lit butt against the wall and let the scrunched and broken cigarette fall to the ground when Chinen leaned forward and brushed his lips against Akutsu's. After the first gentle kiss it was free-for-all, the two of them falling backwards against the wall and wrestling with their tongues. Chinen calmly placed his hands on Akutsu's shoulders while Akutsu fisted his hands in Chinen's shirt, every once in a while Akutsu would jerk Chinen and Chinen would stop what he had been doing and change it up. The two of them were so focused on competing for who could hold their breath the longest (Chinen always won but Akutsu always felt the need to compete) they missed the long black limo that slid down the street.
Inside the limo Atobe was hardly paying attention to the world outside, much less peering into dirty alleyways to see if he could catch two of his fellow musicians making out. Not that Atobe considered Akutsu a fellow musician, even if Akutsu did play music. To Atobe Akutsu was a lowlife ruffian who would be better off staying in his trailer park with his shot gun and whatever cheap bathwater gin it was trailer park trash drunk.
Akutsu upset all of Atobe's delicate sensibilities.
There might also have been a bit of competitive spirit involved in Atobe's dislike of Akutsu. Of course he did not feel the same deep loathing for the rest of Akutsu's band (Sengoku's band actually) but there was a tinge of… enmity. Still, Atobe could respect the rest of 'Lucky Idiots' as musicians. Sengoku knew what he was doing and while he was lowclass and gauche he was also unapologetic about it and that made him oddly likable. Chitose Senri was a better 'rock' drummer than he had been a classical one, and Atobe was actually rather glad to see Chitose doing something with his life. Odd as it may seem Atobe hated to see talent flushed away.
Even if he liked seeing talented people crushed under his tasteful Gucchi loafers.
Atobe's phone gave a distinctive trill of notes and Atobe flipped it open. He knew who was on the line and his face was already twisted slightly into a frown by the time he pressed the cellphone to the side of his head. "Did you need something, Kite?"
Kite Eishirou, leader of Hitmen, smirked on the other side of the phone. He was sitting outside at the park, his guitar case resting next to him on the bench. Unlike Atobe he wasn't rich and powerful and he didn't play to rebel against those around him. He did play to crush the hopes and dreams and lives of others though. Kite loves to take a band and completely snap it in half. "I just want to be sure we're still on for tonight, Keigo." Kite said, stressing Atobe's first name. "Hajime's been looking forward to it."
"Hajime enjoys attention, Eishirou." Atobe rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. "Getting attention from two people at once should excite him."
Mizuki Hajime. If you looked in the right bathroom stall you could find his name scrawled with his number and several unkind epithets written down by angry ex-boyfriends. Mizuki wasn't a slut, wasn't easy, but he did get around and he was a terrible flirt. He was the type to use them and lose them, so to say, which left disgruntled boyfriends in his wake. Atobe had dated Mizuki a month before they 'separated', half a year later they had a fling, two weeks after that Atobe faced off against Mizuki's current boy-toy.
Kite Eishirou, of course, was not typical boytoy material. Typical wasn't a word applied to Kite often.
"I'm glad to hear you're not backing out." Kite's voice dropped low, a sound which made something in Atobe's stomach tingle. "I'm looking forward to it too."
"If tonight goes well," Atobe purred into the voice piece. "We can repeat it." Atobe ended the call and slipped his phone away.
To hear them talk you would think they weren't speaking of listening to Mizuki perform his latest avant garde musical composition.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairings: Pretty gen, some Kaidoh/Momo, Tomoka/Sakuno, Akutsu/Chinen, Atobe/Kite/Mizuki
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Summary: AU The Orchestra makes it into the Japan National Symphonic Orchestra Competition, members of the orchestra go about their own lives. (More... exciting than it sounds?)
The orchestra room was an example of symphonic dissonance. Atobe stood at the front, leaning on the piano while talking to Ibu Shinji. The bright blue wand in Atobe's hands flickered back and forth as he talked, dictating nothing but instead expressing the flow of Atobe's words. Shinji played his fingers up and down the piano keys, a light hearted tune with no real purpose pouring forth. It joined in the casual chaos of notes and scales preformed by the other members of the orchestra. Shishido and Ohtori sat talking, their reeds held between their lips to keep them wet. Yukimura was turned part way in his chair, his flute held carefully on his lap, his other hand motioning to Sanada so that the young man leaned forward. Tezuka Kunimitsu's bow moved steadfastly back and forth on his cello while he worked through the score yet again, tirelessly practicing the same few notes. To the casual observer, it looked like chaos, to the less casual observer, they would receive no hint, no tip-off that the orchestra was waiting for anything more than the beginning of practice.
The hallway outside the orchestra was quite, the faintest strains of chaos filtering through the orchestra room's thick walls and thick doors. Double ply glass panels set high in the doors afforded a view in, and a view out.
If anyone had been watching out of those doors at that very moment, they would have seem Momoshirou Takeshi round the corner at a run, his slippered feet barely keeping up with him, his legs propelling him down the hallway faster than was safe. Momoshirou hit the cold tiled wall of the hallway on the right side, and barely kept himself from smashing into the blue painted lockers on the left. He dodged around the jut of a water fountain, and kept a tight, slightly sweaty hold on the papers held in his right hand. The hallway was dark, light by a single line of occasionally flickering fluorescents, and the filtered light of a cloudy day.
Momoshirou did not slow down as he passed the sign reading 'no running in the halls'.
Crashing through the double doors of the orchestra room, Momoshirou held the papers aloft. Casual dissonance faded into baited breaths, everyone holding tightly onto the edge of their seat or their instruments. The door to the practice room housing Echizen Ryoma opened up and Ryoma leaned casually out the door, his violin propped on his hip.
"We're in!" Momoshirou waved the papers in the ear, his jubilant exclamation met by cheers, and the banging of Kintarou's cymbals. A dramatic drumroll from Shiraishi followed, and a spurt of brass fanfare.
"Calm down!" Atobe tapped his baton authoritatively on the edge of his stand. No one could hear him over their excitement."Cal-"
Sanada blared his trumpet, a sure sign that someone was going to end up with their face impacting the coarsely carpeted floor of the music room, and the room fell quiet. Atobe glared at the orchestra members, but nodded at Sanada, grateful for the quiet. Echizen Ryoma walked around the stands to take his seat as first chair first violin.
"Momoshirou, please take your seat." Momo hurriedly took his seat next to his stand partner, playfully bumping elbows with Muromachi before looking at Atobe. "Thank you." Atobe looked over the papers Momo had dropped on his stand. "We have been accepted into the Japan National Symphonic Orchestra Competition."
A small burst of easily quelled giddiness, one member remembering to tack on 'J.N.S.O.C. for short!' to the end of Atobe's statement, and then Atobe was back to speaking. "You know what this means. More practicing, more planning. I want to see all of you performing your best. I want your solos perfect, and I want you off book as soon as possible."
"Oh man" Aoi dropped his head forward so it nearly smashed into his stand, but was jerked back hurriedly by Kurobane. Aoi was the young, but not untried, first chair of the trombone section, a section that Atobe regarded as the 'bane' of his existence. Boners were absolute brats.
"Ahhem." Atobe cleared his throat. "Since practice, and classes, have been over for at least a half an hour, you are all now dismissed." The room dissolved into chaos once more as people scrambled for their music cases. Most of the woodwinds reached under their chairs and pulled out their cases, while the players with bigger instruments had to walk over to a large table that ran the length of the room by the practice rooms. Some of the members, Momoshirou Takeshi and Kaidoh Kaoru, jostled each other unnecessarily, their shouts almost loud enough to be heard over everyone else. Kintarou Touyama clung to the back of Echizen Ryoma's chair, nattering in his ear while Echizen carefully stored his violin. Kintarou's feet beat a tattoo on the ground, and his drum sticks whistled by Echizen's ear whenever Kintarou felt the need to punctuate his statements with broad sweeps of his hand.
Atobe slipped his conductors wand into its special bag and then gathered up his school books. Practice was the last class of the day, so most ended up bringing their back packs or books with them to class. Especially today when practice had continued after school ended while they all waited to hear back from the admissions board.
"Looking forward to the competition?" Fuji Syuusuke slipped himself onto the teacher's desk that Atobe had set his things on. Sakaki was out for the day, but he generally watched their performances and practices like a hawk. Sakaki was the official music instructor, but Atobe had been conducting the orchestra since he was a first year. "It gives you free reign to be as ruthless a dictator as you please."
"I am not a dictator Fuji, you just dislike being told what to do." Atobe glanced around for Fuji's horn case. Fuji had been known to purposefully 'misplace' his instrument simply to cause havoc. Thankfully Atobe saw it over by Tezuka who was zipping up his cello. Oishi, the first chair Viola, was standing by Tezuka's chair, leaning over the rail to talk to Kikumaru Eiji, one of the trombones, while also asking Tezuka a few questions. Oishi and Eiji were an odd pair, in that you never expected to hear a viola and trombone duet, but somehow they had managed to pull it off.
"That's true enough." Fuji pushed himself over towards Atobe's school books, and Atobe moved them out of the way. Kabaji, a contrabass along with Oshitari Yuushi, came over to pick the books up and store them in Atobe's bag, then Kabaji stood by the door, both Atobe's bag and his own tossed over his shoulders. Kabaji had been Atobe's 'manservant' since they were younger, carrying Atobe's books, his instruments, and other things. "So, does this mean that practices with the band will be suspended?"
Atobe shot Fuji an incredulous look, which Fuji negated with a close eyed smile. "Simply because you find it difficult to keep up with more than one band, Fuji, does not mean the rest of us do." Atobe sniffed. "Practices will still be held on Tuesdays at my house. Be sure not to be late this week."
"My sister's going to give me a ride, so I shouldn't be." Atobe snorted, showing how he felt about *that* statement. Fuji was either late or early, he was never on time. "I'll see you tomorrow." Fuji hopped off the table and wandered over to Tezuka, Oishi, and Eiji.
"I'll see you tomorrow too, Atobe-san." Ohtori nodded politely at Atobe while he made his way to the door. He had his clarinet case in one hand and his violin case carefully on his other shoulder. Ohtori was good enough on the violin to oust Echizen from his seat as concert master, but Ohtori had been playing clarinet in the orchestra since his first year. Ohtori did solos on the violin, and played for another orchestra on the weekends on violin as well. Ohtori waved goodbye to Shishido, who was sniping at Mukahi Gakuto, one of the trumpeters. Shishido waved back, and then Ohtori was out the door.
After stepping out of the wide swinging band room doors the first thing Ohtori looked towards was the staircase almost immediately to his right. There, standing with his arms crossed and attempting to look as nonchalant as possible, was Hiyoshi Wakashi. It was not love of music that kept Hiyoshi lingering around the orchestra room, it was stubbornness and an inability to fit music into his schedule. Hiyoshi was a jock to the core, he competed in the schools karate club, but more than that…
He had absolutely, totally, and completely tone deaf. Hiyoshi couldn't keep a steady beat either.
"You could have come inside, you know." Ohtori did not even bother protesting when Hiyoshi took his clarinet case from him and started walking down the halls. Ohtori had learned that if he protested, Hiyoshi would just get more and more adamant. Hiyoshi's guilt complex meant that he could not let Ohtori walk with two instruments and a backpack while Hiyoshi carried nothing but his schoolbooks.
"The last time I came inside Atobe kicked me out because I was a 'distraction'." Hiyoshi muttered. Ohtori looked down and was only able to see the top of Hiyoshi's head. "Besides, I was practicing for most of the time."
There was a fine sheen of sweat on the back of Hiyoshi's neck, so he probably had been in the gym training on the mats. "You could still have come in, practice was over." Ohtori adjusted the strap of his violin case and rounded the corner. "Do you want to come over to my house tonight? I need some help filling out the biology homework."
Hiyoshi snorted, and then held open the doors to the outside stair case. "If you just did the dissections like everyone else, Ohtori…"
"It's cruel and unusual!" Ohtori protested, passing Sengoku Kiyosumi and Akutsu Jin. Sengoku had his guitar slung over his back, and was leaning over the stair case railing to talk to Akutsu. Akutsu stood in the shadow of the stairs smoking. Ohtori held his breath while the passed Akutsu. Ohtori didn't like the scent of smoke.
"They're dead anyway." Hiyoshi jumped down the last three steps and waited for Ohtori to catch up. "It isn't like you are doing any good by not dissecting them."
"It's cruel and unusual and I'm protesting, Hiyoshi!" Ohtori reached into his bag and pulled out the fliers he had made. "You should join me." The fliers listed all the reasons that the school should stop experimenting on animals, and the possible other options that they could use for biology class. Ohtori had pleaded his case to Hanamura, the biology teacher, but she would not listen to him. She seemed to think that people should literally get their hands dirty when it came to dissections. It was almost enough to make Ohtori cry. There were all sorts of virtual ways to do dissections now, or even plastic models. Why did they need to continue this frog genocide?!
Hiyoshi batted the fliers away. "Put those away. I'm not joining your crazy plot to free the frogs." The light changed and the two boys crossed the street.
"They're cute, right?" Sengoku hopped over the railing to land next to Akutsu, only wobbling slightly from the five foot drop. Sengoku checked the padded guitar case on his back before nodding. "Seriously, if only we had frog dissections to bond over."
Akutsu flicked the flickering butt of his cigarette in Sengoku's direction, ignoring the chatter of orchestra players now forming a trickling stream out of the building. "Shut the fuck up numbnuts. What the fuck do you want anyway?"
"Akuchu!" Sengoku narrowly dodged the burning butt, and took a step forward towards Akutsu. Akutsu lifted one arm in threat, and Sengoku took a step back. "The battle of the bands? We can't practice properly without our bassist."
The band was Sengoku's, he had formed it on a crazy whim and had somehow, luckily, managed to find all the pieces parts he needed. Akutsu had learned how to play contrabass because of his mother, but had quit classical because it was a waste of time. He had picked up the electric bass quickly, and was damn good at it. Sengoku played guitar, and was the only person who could convince Akutsu to show up to rehearsals and performances. Sengoku was also the person who pissed Akutsu off so that he did not show up for rehearsals. That and the chance to make it big and get a record deal. They had already put together a CD, and they did have a fan base. They played at local clubs and teen gatherings. Sengoku was back up vocals to Kisarazu Ryou, along with Ryou's brother Atsushi, who also played rhythm guitar. Chitose Senri was picked up to play drums.
"Battle of the bands is a waste of time." Akutsu stuffed his cigarettes under his shirt sleeve and turned to go. Sengoku jogged to catch up.
"But you like the cash prize." Sengoku stated cheerfully. "And the girls."
"You're the one who chases skirts." Akutsu did not bother waiting for the light to change and he was not some pussy who needed crosswalks, Akutsu Jin just walked right into the street. One car rolled to a stop, the driver inside looking pissed off. Akutsu flipped him off, ignoring the way Sengoku smiled and waved and mouthed apologies while running after him. The car sped up as soon as Akutsu and Sengoku had their feet on the other side of the street. "Fucking lame-ass driver." Akutsu looked over his shoulder Sengoku, who was struggling to keep his laughter silent. It was like everything he did amused Sengoku instead of scaring the other teen.
Dumb ass. Akutsu figured Sengoku would end up in a psych ward one day, maybe Sengoku would keep Dan company and save Akutsu from the inevitable torrent of 'come visit me' letters. "Stop fucking laughing, asshole. I would have run you over."
Sengoku smiled widely. "Lucky you weren't driving then!"
"You and your da-" Akutsu was about ready to pull out his cigarettes again when he noticed something that pissed him the hell off. Not that there was much in the world that did not piss him off. "DAN YOU GET OFF THAT FUCKING BIKE YOU LAME SHIT."
Dan Taichi scrambled hastily off Akutsu's motorcycle. Dan had just started middle school that year, but unlike geniuses like Echizen Ryoma he did not have the ability to make it into the top of the class. Dan played second flute, and if you felt like counting chairs, fifth chair. Dan was good, for his age, but not good enough. Akutsu spit to the side and started cursing Dan out, not like it ever did any good. Dan was immune to it after growing up in the house down the street from Akutsu.
Plus that idiot Sengoku tended to ruffle his hair and tell him 'it's all good, all good'.
"It fucking well is fucking not." Akutsu kicked dirt at Sengoku. "You don't touch the bike, Dan!"
"Don't touch the bike, don't touch your bass, what can I touch, Akutsu-senpai?" Dan looked pleadingly up at Akutsu, the stupid green headband Akutsu should have never worn to a gig and certainly should never have tossed off afterwards slipping down to cover one sad, pathetic looking eye.
"Your goddamn dick." Akutsu pulled a helmet on, stupid state laws fucking up his hair style, and straddled the bike. Over the roar of his engine Akutsu could make out Sengoku saying, really loudly, that Akutsu cared for Dan, deep, deep, deep down. "I DO FUCKING NOT." Kicking the engine into gear Akutsu rolled out of the parking lot, leaving Dan and Sengoku behind to eat his dust.
Dan had probably gotten his cooties all over the goddamn bike.
Akutsu roared down the road, easily passing Kaidoh Kaoru who was jogging down the road. For a musician Kaidoh was ripped, but it was because of the constant physical training he put himself through. Kaidoh believed that all the strength and breath control gained through exercise made him a better tuba player. It was hard to play the tuba without looking ridiculous, most brass players turned red in the face no matter how good their breath control was. The tuba was a big instrument too, and for marching band the sousaphone was just as bad. Kaidoh liked the big instruments, the were deep and supportive, not something loud and annoying like the trumpet, or whiny like the sax.
"Yo, viper!" Kaidoh hissed under his breath. He hated that nickname, and he hated the one who used it the most. Momoshirou matched Kaidoh's jogging pace with his bike. Momoshirou's saxophone case was strapped to his bike, unlike Kaidoh's tuba which was not really Kaidoh's tuba but actually the school's. The tuba was tucked away in the orchestra lockers, with a number of other large instruments or the instruments out on rent. Some students rented instruments so they would not have to bring their own in for practices. Kaidoh did not have the space, or the money, for a tuba of his own.
He dreamed though. When he played his tuba he imagined telling stories through it's long, mellow, bull frog like notes. Bum bum bum bum, bum badda bum bum bum…
"Viper!" Momoshirou just got longer the louder you ignored him, just like he only got louder the longer he played his instrument. Kaidoh could remember when Momoshriou had started playing the saxophone, he had sounded like a wounded goose calling out for a quick and painless death. He still sounded like a goose sometimes.
"What do you want?" Kaidoh snapped back at Momoshirou, easily pushing himself off a bit of uneven sidewalk. The sidewalks got progressively worse the further and further you got from the school, at least the way Kaidoh went. By the time Kaidoh reached the midway point between his house and the school he would be encountering thick roots disrupting the even lay of the path, and blocked off wet cement. Things got better from the midway point to Kaidoh's house though.
Momoshirou sped up and slowed down, looking distant and stupid. Not that Momoshirou ever looked anything but stupid. "Echizen's coming over tonight, do you want to come practice with us?"
Echizen really, really ticked Kaidoh off. Almost as much as Momoshirou did, but at the same time less and more. Echizen was at least intelligent, but he had this scarily sneaky way of squeezing himself under your skin so that before you knew it you actually liked it when he mouthed off. Kaidoh was still working on ignoring Echizen's mouthing off, instead of admitting that he liked it. Echizen was also a genius violin player, it was rumored he had already been scouted by professional orchestras. Kaidoh could not tell you if it was true, but he knew that Echizen came off cocky enough when asked to support the rumors.
"Idiot!" Kaidoh leapt over cracked pavement. "What good are a violin, a saxophone, and a tuba-less tuba player going to do?"
Momoshirou's bike swerved around a grate. "You still play piano, don't you, Kaoru-chan?"
That stupid, stupid recital his mother had signed him up for when he was five, and Momoshirou just happened to be in the audience. Kaidoh fumed. He hated being called Kaoru-chan.
He was not a girl, he was Kaidoh Kaoru damn it!
"Not for you, idiot." Picking up the pace Kaidoh turned down a side street, deciding to take the long way around. Momoshirou would have to go really out of his way if he wanted to follow Kaidoh now, and Kaidoh just wanted to be left alone. Kaidoh ignored the people on the road around him, like always. Except Kaidoh was always willing to stop to pet a puppy, or help someone carry their groceries, or help someone cross the street. His neighbors always knew they could call on Kaidoh Kaoru to mow their lawn or wash their car. Kaidoh even volunteered at the local retirement home for two hours a week.
He played piano in the lounge.
And no, he did not take requests.
…except when he did. It's not like old people wanted anything too hard to play, they were all tunes Kaidoh knew, and generally they were the same ones over and over and over again. One of the older women at the retirement home used to be some sort of singer. Her voice was fading and wobbly, but she sang along to the songs she knew.
Focused on his run and NOT on the people around him Kaidoh studiously ignored Kirihara Akaya and Yukimura Seiichi walking down the street on the opposite side. Kirihara was carrying his bassoon case tucked under one arm, and jogging ahead of Yukimura every few steps. Yukimura's padded flute case was zipped up in Yukimura's backpack, poking slightly out at the top.
"Sennnnnnnnnnnpai," Kirihara whined, grabbing at Yukimura's arm and dragging the older student along a few steps. "C'mon! You're so slow! By the time we get to Sanada-senpai's house all the snacks will be gone!"
Yukimura deliberately slowed his steps so that Kirihara was forced to match his pace. "Akaya, I've told you, just because you eat everyone else's share does not mean that *everyone* has bad manners." Yukimura was still unsure what had gotten the rambunctious, green eyed, seaweed haired second year hooked on him. Kirihara claimed it was after his Flight of the Bumblebee solo, but Yukimura was sure it had to be more than that. Kirihara played Basoon, an impressive instrument but not something you played and then idolized a flute player. Bassoons were lower, and were also reeds. One would think Kirihara would idolize someone like Shishido Ryou instead.
"Sanada-senpai doesn't have any manners." Kirihara sulked, clinging tighter, and forcing Yukimura to drag him two steps before Kirihara's natural energy caused him to jog ahead again. How someone with so much energy could sit through a two hour long orchestra concert was beyond anyone's guess. "And neither does Marui-senpai!"
While that was partially true, Marui always ate more than his share, it was not true about Sanada. Sanada had the most gentlemanly manners of anyone Yukimura had ever met. "Akaya, calm down."
Kirihara took a big breath and managed to calm down… a little. But then he started up again, like the Energizer Bunny. "If dinner runs late I am going to have to call my mom about it. Can we have a sleepover? I had a lot of fun when we did that before."
"It's Monday." Yukimura stated, holding Akaya back before the younger teen could dash straight into the street. A car sped by, and after checking both ways Yukimura let Kirihara run across before sedately following. Kirihara had apparently missed several classes in Safety School, Yukimura had almost seen him run down by a truck once. "We can not have a sleepover on a Monday, Kirhara." Yukimura had to smile at Kirihara's defiant pout. Turning Kirihara down always triggered that pout, before Kirihara threw a tantrum anyway. Things never got that bad when Yukimura was the one breaking the bad news. "We will have a small celebratory dinner for getting into the J.N.S.O.C. and then maybe we can convince Genichirou to lend us the dojo for a sleep-over this weekend." Sanada's father ran a martial art's school, and so Sanada was the only one with enough extra space for sleepovers. Of course, that was only if they were inviting Kirihara, Niou, Yagyuu, Jackal, Marui, and Yanagi. If it was just Sanada and Yukimura (or more often Sanada, Yukimura, and Yanagi) then they could just roll out the spare futons and squeeze into Sanada's room.
"But I want to sleep over tonight!" Kirihara whined. "And what's so big about getting into the J.N.S.O.C.? What IS it?"
"It's the Japan National Symphonic Orchestra Competition." Yukimura sighed. "Were you not paying attention at all when you signed the form?"
Kirihara glanced around sheepishly, scuffled his feet, and glanced up again. "…No?"
"The Japan National Symphonic Orchestra Competition is held every three years. It is a competition between Japan's high school level orchestras to see who can produce the best sound. Orchestras progress through a series of district, regional, and national level competitions, where they are tested rigorously on many factions." A cool, calm voice spoke from just above Yukimura's left shoulder. Yukimura glanced up and back, and smiled.
"Yagyuu, how long were you following us?"
Yagyuu pushed up his glasses. "Only from the cross-walks, you must have missed me."
"That's almost as creepy as when Yanagi does that!" Kirihara managed to unwrap his arms from the telephone pole he had jumped onto and clung to when Yagyuu spoke up. "Don't do it again!" Kirihara had a scratch on his face, running down his chin. It beaded with blood.
"Akaya, you scratched yourself." Yukimura tsked. "We should hurry. Renji will want you to disinfect it."
Kirihara futilely rubbed at the bleeding scratch, dotting the sleeve of his shirt with blood and smearing the blood over his cheek. Each swipe of his arm only made the scratch bleed more. "I hate it when he does that! It hurts! I don't want to."
Yagyuu pushed up his glasses, a habit he had picked up when he was younger. His glasses had always been falling down, so when Yagyuu stopped to think and needed to appear presentable he was always pushing his glasses up. Now even with perfectly fitted glasses he felt the need to adjust them when the time came to sound condescending. "We will be late, anyway."
"Nuh." Kirihara ran ahead several sidewalk squares, then stopped and turned. "Or we will! It's because the two of you are so slow!"
"You're going to bump into someone." Yukimura stated softly. "Like right now."
Kirihara made a face, because in Kirihara's mind he was never bumped into, other people were the ones that bumped into him. However as Kirihara was walking backwards and Tomoka was walking with her head down and earplugs in her ears, they both bumped into each other. Kirihara went down with a shouted curse word (FUCK) and Tomoka went down with an indignant squeak. Tomoka's pink leather bag fell off of her shoulder and tipped over to open up. A few books and her I-phone, which was covered in a pink flexi-skin case, tumbled to the sidewalk. Tomoka's earphones were tugged out of her ears and a tinny, blurred rendition of the latest pop hit blared.
"Ew!" Kirihara jumped off of Tomoka and rubbed at his body. "I have boyband cooties!"
Tomoka snorted, very unladylike, and glared at Kirihara from her sprawled state on the sidewalk. The only reason her panties were not showing was because she wore black tap pants under the school uniform skirt. "Ew! I have *faggotto* cooties."
Kirihara flushed hotly and glanced over his shoulder. Yukimura and Yagyuu were only a few feet away, and soon they had closed the distance. Kirihara gritted his teeth and tried not to lose his cool. "It's not a faggoto, bi- you. It's a bassoon!"
"Whatever." Tomoka stashed her things back in her bag and stood up, her earphones dangling from one finger. "It's still a wind instrument, seaweed brain."
Kirihara's eyes turned red as his blood pressure rose. He had heard from his doctor that it was completely natural, but that it should be avoided. Kirihara was on all sorts of weird blood regulation medication too, but nothing seemed to work. At least his heart had not burst yet. "Don't call me tha-"
Yukimura placed a hand on Kirihara's shoulder and squeezed. "Sorry for the trouble." Then Yukimura pushed Kirihara past Tomoka. "Excuse me, Osakada, we'll be late." Yagyuu passed Tomoka with a nod of his head, and the three of them continued to walk to Sanada's. Tomoka sniffed and popped her earphones back in, basking in the sounds of electronically modulated sexy boys. Continuing her walk Tomoka came to the crosswalk and had to wait.
Tomoka had to hurry if she hoped to get to Sakuno's in time to help Sakuno cook dinner. Sakuno lived with her grandmother, her parents had both died in an accident two years ago, and Tomoka liked to come over and help out when she could. Tomoka was good at helping out because she had to do it all the time at home, she was the oldest and her younger siblings were so annoying, they cried and screamed and tugged at her pigtails. Because of all of the time spent helping her mother in the kitchen or around the house Tomoka was a good cook and cleaner, which was not something that could be said of Sakuno. Sakuno was a good cleaner, but could not make anything but rice balls.
The light changed color and Tomoka hurried across the street. She had been friends with Sakuno for what felt like forever, even if it had only been a few years, and knew the route to Sakuno's house by heart. It was barely a hop, skip, and a jump away.
One song finished, and another began.
Kind of like relationships.
Tomoka had been through her fair share of relationships. She'd had this friend then that friend then this friend then that friend… and all of them had ended up telling Tomoka she was too loud, or too clingy, or just plain annoying. Tomoka had been starting to think something was wrong with her… but then she had started playing the trumpet and had met Sakuno. Sakuno played the *cello* and it was the most beautiful and underappreciated instrument ever. When Sakuno strummed her bow across those strings Tomoka felt her heart speed up. Once, Sakuno's playing had made Tomoka cry. Of course, Tomoka was having her first experience with PMS at the time, but still, it was Sakuno's beautiful playing that had gotten Tomoka's tears flowing.
Sakuno liked to listen when Tomoka played the trumpet too! Sakuno was not like the other trumpet boys, who laughed and ignored her, or like Tomoka's mother who told her to stop playing so loudly. Sakuno even clapped when Tomoka finished.
"Tomo!" Sakuno stood behind the thin screen door like she had been waiting for Tomoka. She probably had been, Sakuno was always waiting for someone, even if she was just waiting for her own shadow to jump out and scare her. "Grandmother just got back from the grocery store."
"Well, we can get started then!" Tomoka took a flying leap up Sakuno's front steps and smiled at her through the screen. Tomoka's smile was twice the size of Sakuno's, but Tomoka felt it paled in comparison to her friend's. "C'mon, I'm hungry." Opening the screen door, Tomoka darted inside Sakuno's house. Of course the first thing she did when she got to the kitchen was get out which pots and pans she needed.
Under a mile away Chitose Senri was doing something similar, instead of breaking out the pot though he was putting it away. "I keep finding bags." Chitose said into the phone, keeping an eye out for his sister while he stuffed the bag of pot into the trash. "Like seriously, I know I cleaned under the bed last week, but I found a bag there today!" Chitose reached for the paper napkins to crumple up and toss on top of the pot bag to hide it, but stopped himself. He was no longer a wasteful pothead, clueless about sustainability and thinking that helping the planet was tossing his soda cans in the recycling bin. Chitose believed in being green.
"Didn't we do a major clean up of your room this summer?" Shiraishi asked. He was lying on his bed staring up at the slowly wheeling blades of his room fan. It was almost as good as a strobe light. He was dressed in his white socks and his shorts, but his shirt lay off to the side, and the bandages around his arm were unwrapped and put away. His mother found ignoring the scars that ran up and down his arm easier to do if he did not wear bright white bandages wrapped around it. "How's this stuff keep appearing?"
"I think I might have hidden packets all around the room while stoned." Chitose rifled a hand through his dense curly hair. "Or maybe I have pot gremlins. I don't know." Opening up the fridge Chitose picked up the bottle of organic Lemon Ginger Echinacea and set it down on the counter. The fridge door closed behind him. "Seriously though, you think I have pot gremlins?"
Shiraishi laughed and rolled onto his side. "Pot gremlins? You didn't happen to smoke some of that weed before throwing it away, did you?"
Chitose tipped his head to the side so he could trap the phone under his ear. "You know I've been clean for ages. I'm not going to go and ruin that just because I found a bag in my room." Chitose poured himself a glass of juice and then put the bottle back in the fridge. "This Echinacea stuff isn't half bad, Kura."
Shiraishi knew that Chitose had been clean for ages. There had been an incident last year that Chitose did not like to talk about and Shiraishi only knew bits and pieces about from rumors. From what he knew Chitose and his best friend Tachibana Kippei were smoking it up with some upperclassmen and the two them started to experience some of the negative effects of marijuana. Shiraishi was not sure what happened next but it ended up with Chitose and Tachibana brawling in the parking lot outside the van, and Chitose in the hospital bruised and battered and half blind. From what Shiraishi had heard Chitose had denied allegations that it was Tachibana's fault and Tachibana never fessed up.
They had met outside the counselor's office after summer classes, both of them making up for missing a few too many gym classes during the year.
"I thought you'd like it. It's not fresh juice, as it's made from concentrate, but it's pretty good." Shiraishi studied his nails. Should he cut them? It didn't really matter when you played the drums, but Shiraishi liked to look presentable. Presentable and organic.
Chitose wandered back to his room. His parents were pretty cool about the blind thing, and they had always preferred organic food anyway. His sister Miyuki did complain about the lack of snacks in the house, but Chitose made sure she knew that her breasts would get bigger if she ate organic and that processed junk gave her pimples. She stopped complaining relatively quickly… or as soon as she grew from an AA to an A cup. Chitose was pretty sure that was just her body maturing though. The fact that they had moved away from food (primarily meat and dairy) stuffed with hormones probably meant that Miyuki would end up FLATTER than she would have been otherwise. Chitose was not going mention that any time soon.
"So how's Orchestra coming along?" Chitose set the juice on his desk and flopped down on the bed. He didn't attend, not since the accident. It was like a divorce. Chitose got to keep Battle of the Bands, Tachibana got to keep Orchestra. Tachibana also got the dog, but technically Gokutora was Tachibana's to begin with, and Chitose had never been a terrible good orchestral percussionist. There wasn't enough room to flow and the beats were all… normal. Unless you were playing the hard stuff, and that was only once in a blue moon.
"The Mahler's coming along." Shiraishi stated. The point of a timpanist was really just to be on time, much like a tuba player except with less lung work and more arm work. "I still it's a little tough for our group."
"It's just delicate." Chitose shrugged. Atobe had wanted to wow the judges, but also he thought that the orchestra could do better, harder pieces than they had been doing under previous leadership. Atobe was always reaching for the top. Chitose had liked that about Atobe, in fact Chitose really liked it about Atobe, even if Atobe was his competition at the Battle of the Bands.
Oh, there were a lot of good bands in the competition, but Atobe's team was the only one Chitose felt could give the unique sound of Lucky Idiots a run for their money. With Sengoku, the Kisarazu twins, Akutsu, and Chitose himself at the wheel they were sure to win this year.
"How's your practice?" Shiraishi asked Chitose, sitting up and checking his computer for IM updates and the time. He had a yoga class in about an hour. "You guys still working on that cover song?" Casually Shiraishi preformed a stretch. He hated just lying around while on the phone, in fact Shiraishi hated just lying around. Unless, of course, it was at the hill behind the school. That place used to be where Chitose used to light up, but Shiraishi found it was perfect for cloud watching. Some days you had to sit back and let the world spin around you.
"Yeah." Chitose pulled a few schoolbooks out of his bag. History homework today, which was cool. Chitose liked history, he found it exciting. He was considering it as a degree when he got out of high school. Chitose might think he was good enough to be a musician but he was not going to base all of his life plans around it. Plus his life plans changed every few months or so. "It'd be nice if we could get Akutsu to show up to a few more practices than he usually does, as his bass is key, but apparently his Mom instituted a curfew."
Shiraishi snickered. While Akutsu might be the tough punk around town everyone who was even vaguely associated with him knew that when his mom said jump Akutsu… really slowly and sulkily told her to fuck off before hopping on one foot. "Hey, look Chitose, I have to leave."
"Yoga?" Chitose questioned, and he could tell that Shiraishi had nodded distractedly. Funny how some people nodded even though you obviously couldn't see them over the phone. "Cool, catch you later, Kura."
"Don't wait up." Shiraishi flipped his phone closed and tucked it into his pocket before shutting his computer down. No need to waste energy. Shiraishi grabbed his yoga mat and turned off his lights before walking to his older sister's room. "Sis! I'm heading out!"
"Grab the grocery list from the fridge!" She shouted through the door. "Pick it up on your way home."
Shiraishi rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen to snag the list, then headed out the door in the direction of his yoga classes. Halfway there Shiraishi crossed the street and found himself behind Chinen Hiroshi. Chinen was a euphonium player for the orchestra. While you might not think there was much call for a euphonium player Chinen's instrument added an extra dash of awesome to their music. While a euphonium was similar to a baritone it was also different. …not that Shiraishi could tell you what the differences were.
Neither could Chinen.
Oh, Chinen could tell you that a euphonium had a smaller bell than a baritone, and wider bore (whatever that was). Chinen could go on and on about the subtle differences in sound. But in truth Chinen did not understand it. The parts he played were all marked 'baritone', and no one ever bothered to find out if there was a 'euphonium' part. Baritones and euphoniums looked similar in shops, and people couldn't tell the difference, often confusing between the two. Chinen pretended that such a thing upset him.
But really it didn't.
Chinen was often mistaken as a 'goth' because of the pallor of his skin and the heavy eyeliner he wore. He wasn't a goth, he just hated the sun. The eyeliner was all the fault of his mother. When his mom had separated from his dad she had worried that the split would cause her two children to begin 'acting out'. When neither Chinen nor his younger siblings had fits or needed counseling his mother had started worrying that there was some sort of *deep seated* trauma going on. So Chinen had pasted on some eyeliner and gotten really good at faking insomnia.
Oh, and he had bleached his hair. That was mainly Akutsu's fault though.
Chinen turned the corner and passed the froo-froo yoga/incense/spiritual healing store. It was not that Chinen thought yoga was ridiculous. As an exercise Chinen could appreciate it. It was the whole 'spiritual healing' aspect that got to him. That and the type of people who visited the store. Chinen might believe in the supernatural (mainly in ghosts) but he found the type of floaty hippy type who did yoga and talked about crystal healing annoying.
Chinen walked past the handful of boutique and specialty shops as well as one or two restaurants before he hit the diner he was looking for. Ignoring those eating outside Chinen opened the door. The little bell above the door tinkled. The attractive woman behind the counter scowled at Chinen.
"Jin's working." Yuuki didn't snap at Chinen, but she did make it clear that she did not appreciate his company.
Chinen bit back a sigh. It wasn't his fault Yuuki didn't like him. Actually he was not sure why Yuuki did not like him, so it might be his fault. He assumed it was not though. There were only two of Akutsu's friends that Yuki did like, Sengoku, and Taka. Everyone liked Taka, not liking Taka was an action rather similar to kicking a three-legged dog and then spitting on it. Even Akutsu liked Taka, though he denied it. Yuuki probably liked Sengoku because he was cheerful and clean-cut. She might also have liked Sengoku because he flirted outrageously with her. Yuuki was young enough to appreciate being flirted with by a boy her son's age. Even if it was creepy.
"Let him sit at the goddamn counter, woman!" Akutsu shouted. He was dressed in a little white apron that tied in the back, and he had his hair pushed out of his face and held back by black bobby pins.
"The counter is for customers, Gin!" Yuuki didn't shout, but she spoke loud enough ot be heard over the hubbub of the café. Despite her protests though, she pointed out an open seat for Chinen. Chinen and the regulars were used to the byplay between mother and son, and Chinen could see several regulars smiling into their drinks or sandwiches. He also noted a handful of newcomers who looked annoyed. Chinen hoped they realized Akustu was going to spit in their drinks. People who annoyed Akutsu rarely came back to the café, Akutsu could be a very, very, very unpleasant server.
They weren't good tippers anyway, so it wasn't like Akutsu cared.
"So, you gonna order something or just sit there looking like a bad wax mannequin?" Yuuki questioned. Chinen smiled unsurely at her and she cracked a small smile back at him. Chinen was pretty sure Yuuki was warming up to him, albeit slowly. It helped that Chinen did not curse, or shout like her son.
"Just some iced tea." Yuuki jotted that down and wandered off to take care of the other customers. Chinen waited, and waited, and nodded at a few old timers who recognized him, and eventually Akutsu brought the long tall glass of iced green tea to him. Yuuki generally only served black iced tea, but Chinen preferred green. "Hey, Gin, I didn't see you after practice."
"Sengoku pissed me off." Akutsu's fingers twitched, Chinen could tell he was gunning for a smoke. Yuuki had a no smoking inside policy. Akutsu jerked his head towards the back and Chinen shrugged, picked up his drink, and followed Akutsu out the back door. Once they were outside the heavy metal door closed behind them and Akutsu was digging his cigarettes and a lighter out. Chinen personally did not smoke, but he was willing to stand beside Akutsu sipping iced tea while the other teenager did so. "What'd you come around for?"
"I just wanted to hang out."
"Tch." Akutsu took a long drag on his cigarette before turning and blowing the smoke into Chinen's face. Chinen lazily waved it away. "You want to make out pale face?"
Chinen considered the offer long enough to make Akutsu twitchy.
"Fucker if you do-" Akutsu stifled his lit butt against the wall and let the scrunched and broken cigarette fall to the ground when Chinen leaned forward and brushed his lips against Akutsu's. After the first gentle kiss it was free-for-all, the two of them falling backwards against the wall and wrestling with their tongues. Chinen calmly placed his hands on Akutsu's shoulders while Akutsu fisted his hands in Chinen's shirt, every once in a while Akutsu would jerk Chinen and Chinen would stop what he had been doing and change it up. The two of them were so focused on competing for who could hold their breath the longest (Chinen always won but Akutsu always felt the need to compete) they missed the long black limo that slid down the street.
Inside the limo Atobe was hardly paying attention to the world outside, much less peering into dirty alleyways to see if he could catch two of his fellow musicians making out. Not that Atobe considered Akutsu a fellow musician, even if Akutsu did play music. To Atobe Akutsu was a lowlife ruffian who would be better off staying in his trailer park with his shot gun and whatever cheap bathwater gin it was trailer park trash drunk.
Akutsu upset all of Atobe's delicate sensibilities.
There might also have been a bit of competitive spirit involved in Atobe's dislike of Akutsu. Of course he did not feel the same deep loathing for the rest of Akutsu's band (Sengoku's band actually) but there was a tinge of… enmity. Still, Atobe could respect the rest of 'Lucky Idiots' as musicians. Sengoku knew what he was doing and while he was lowclass and gauche he was also unapologetic about it and that made him oddly likable. Chitose Senri was a better 'rock' drummer than he had been a classical one, and Atobe was actually rather glad to see Chitose doing something with his life. Odd as it may seem Atobe hated to see talent flushed away.
Even if he liked seeing talented people crushed under his tasteful Gucchi loafers.
Atobe's phone gave a distinctive trill of notes and Atobe flipped it open. He knew who was on the line and his face was already twisted slightly into a frown by the time he pressed the cellphone to the side of his head. "Did you need something, Kite?"
Kite Eishirou, leader of Hitmen, smirked on the other side of the phone. He was sitting outside at the park, his guitar case resting next to him on the bench. Unlike Atobe he wasn't rich and powerful and he didn't play to rebel against those around him. He did play to crush the hopes and dreams and lives of others though. Kite loves to take a band and completely snap it in half. "I just want to be sure we're still on for tonight, Keigo." Kite said, stressing Atobe's first name. "Hajime's been looking forward to it."
"Hajime enjoys attention, Eishirou." Atobe rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. "Getting attention from two people at once should excite him."
Mizuki Hajime. If you looked in the right bathroom stall you could find his name scrawled with his number and several unkind epithets written down by angry ex-boyfriends. Mizuki wasn't a slut, wasn't easy, but he did get around and he was a terrible flirt. He was the type to use them and lose them, so to say, which left disgruntled boyfriends in his wake. Atobe had dated Mizuki a month before they 'separated', half a year later they had a fling, two weeks after that Atobe faced off against Mizuki's current boy-toy.
Kite Eishirou, of course, was not typical boytoy material. Typical wasn't a word applied to Kite often.
"I'm glad to hear you're not backing out." Kite's voice dropped low, a sound which made something in Atobe's stomach tingle. "I'm looking forward to it too."
"If tonight goes well," Atobe purred into the voice piece. "We can repeat it." Atobe ended the call and slipped his phone away.
To hear them talk you would think they weren't speaking of listening to Mizuki perform his latest avant garde musical composition.
