Disclaimer: I do not own Fushigi Yuugi or any of the associated ideas or characters. If I did, I wouldn't have to save up half a year's allowance to buy the first season on DVD *sigh*
A/N: Hi, everyone! I haven't abandoned my Slayers fanfic, I promise! I just have to get around to typing the third chapter, that's all! Gomen nasai! This is my first FY fic, and I hope it'll be a success! The idea's been ping-ponging around in my head for a while, now, and I finally sat down and wrote it during a student-led class at this writing camp I went to (The class was on fanfiction and my little sister and some of her friends were teaching it. It was pretty neat.)
Anyway, here's the fic!
Soi Sauce
It is true that some of the worst things happen on some of the nicest days. This particular day was cloudless, sunny, and warm with a slight breeze. In the corner of a very pretty park a sign had been erected two trees, just over three long picnic tables. The sign read, in cheerful, colorful letters that belied the serious battle it represented, "Fushigi Yuugi First Annual Cookoff".
Each of the three tables held very different groups of people. At the first, there were eight people; six young men, a boy, and a girl. They had hair all colors of the rainbow, and personalities just as varied. At the second table, three young men were sitting idly, two a bit apart from the third. And at the final table, there was a group of individuals that could be described collectively as freaks.
At the first table, there was a flurry of activity. A redhead with a slightly pyromanical glint is his eye was tending a grill, the little boy was reading a cookbook, a very large man was arranging bottles of spices, while the four other young men chopped up vegetables on a rather large cutting board. The girl sat sullenly off to one side. All were wearing aprons.
"Why can't I help?" the girl whined, arms crossed over her pink frilly apron, partially obstructing the words "Feed me".
"'Cuz you could burn a salad," the grill tender muttered. His own apron, which was orange, read "Pyro at work".
"We already have enough people helping!" a rather feminine-looking man with a long purple braid said. His apron, purple to match his hair, said, "Gender Fulfilled".
"Oh, yes," said a regal-looking, long-haired man. His apron, white, said, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful". "We're quite alright."
"Oh, pleeeeeeeeeeeease!" she whined.
"Hey, Tamahome," the purple-haired man whispered to the dark-blue-haired man next to him. "Go entertain her."
"But—" he started. His apron, dark green, simply had a very large dollar sign on it.
"Go!" the purple-haired one hissed, shoving the blue-haired one, Tamahome, at the girl.
"Hey! Alright, alright, I'm going!" he grumbled. But that was before he locked eyes with the girl.
They stared at each other a moment. Then the girl spoke, in a small, breathy voice, "Tamahome?"
"Tree," the grilltender announced sarcastically. "Chair. Table."
"Miaka," Tamahome whispered in reply, ignoring the redhead.
"Tamahome."
"Miaka."
"Tamahome."
"Miaka."
"Tamahome."
"Miaka."
"Tamahome."
"Miaka."
"Amazing how that can keep them entertained for hours," the purple-haired one said.
"You have to envy them a little, though no da," said an odd looking young man with light blue hair. His eyes were seemingly closed in a perpetual smile, and hairdo made his head look as though is was a water balloon that someone had stuck a pin through, so now light blue water was squirting out of both ends. His apron, which matched his hair, read, "To be loved, be lovable" in bubbly yellow letters.
"I suppose."
Meanwhile, at the middle table, the three young men sat, bored.
"Remind me why we're doing this again," the young man with an odd hat muttered to the eyepatch-wearing one.
"Because we're the only impartial judges," his companion muttered back, with the air of someone repeating himself.
The other young man, who had very long hair done in a peculiar sort of ponytail, just looked at them. They weren't exactly the best of friends.
The final table contained a very bizarre group of people, most of whom would likely frighten small children. They appeared to be headed by a very large blonde man, who was ordering everybody around except for a short-haired blonde girl. She appeared to be lounging disinterestedly off on one side. Her apron, navy blue, read "Worship me". A young blonde man, probably fifteen or sixteen, seemed to be doing just that, bringing her glasses of cold lemonade and calling her "Yui-sama". Of course, the others called her that, as well, but he was the only one that said it with such reverence.
The production at this table seemed far less organized than the first, which was saying something. A young man with a flute, completely identical to the one fawning over "Yui-sama", was playing a flute with his eyes closed. The vegetables he was sitting in front of seemed to be falling apart in equal slices of their own accord. His apron read "Can't we all just get along?"
"Where's Soi?" the tall blonde man grumbled to a rather disturbing-looking person in creepy makeup next to him.
"I'm not sure," the other man purred in a slightly frightening way. "Why? Do you even need her while I'm here?" His apron, black, said, "I have issues".
The blonde man gave him a look. "I want her to be doing the work I told her to do, just like you should be doing." He adjust his very dark blue apron, smoothing the words "The beatings will continue until morale improves" over his rather expansive chest. "Will you go find her, please?"
The creepy man scowled. "Hai, Nakago-sama." And he headed away grumbling.
Meanwhile, off in the bushes somewhere, a woman with very long maroon-ish hair was making some sort of concoction in the cut-off half of a milk jug. Her apron, a pink so dark it was almost red, said "Please talk to my face, my breasts can't hear you".
She chuckled evilly, pouring a vial of red liquid into the brownish potion. (A/N: Okay, I have a very clear picture of what this should look like. The only other thing I've seen that looks remotely near what I'm imagining was this yucky brownish-black goop at the bottom of the fry cooker when we cleaned it out at the snack bar I work at.) She took a deep breath, prepared to cackle evilly, then remembered that she was only a few bushes away from the table where she was supposed to be working, and it would not be very good if someone found her here before she was finished. She scanned a page in a very old book, then glanced at her concoction.
"It looks about right…" she muttered. She giggled again. "Ah, once I put this love potion sauce in Nakago's hamburger, he'll instantly fall for me! I just have to make sure that crazed, cackling pervert Tomo isn't anywhere around…"
Unfortunately for her, the crazed, cackling pervert was watching her angrily from behind the very bushes she was hiding in. How dare she! He thought. Nakago is rightfully mine! How dare she try to feed him some sort of voodoo love potion! But… I bet I could use this against her. Yes, in fact… I know how I could use this to kill two birds with one stone.
And it took all his willpower not to break into the crazed, cackling laugh that was his infamous trademark.
A/N: Hurrah! First chapter out! Please review, and tell me what you think! I hope I'll get the next chapter out soon! (wow, that was four sentences that ended in exclamation marks. I bet I sound like a total moron.)