Orange Omochi
-Minna! I guess you know how this goes, ne? Or maybe not -_-0… Well, here's how it goes: I start the story, and my two good friends, Dyjae (a.k.a. Deej) and Calisia (a.k.a. Kahlie) write the next two chapters; after which, the three of us will take turns writing chapters. None of us know what sort of mad plot is fermenting in the others' twisted and ravaged minds, so expect a lot of wacky plot-twists and loopholes.
-Any suggestions and/or criticisms on my writing, spelling, and grammar are always good. But don't put all the blame on me, ne? There's the excessive chocolate consumption, PMS, caffeine overdose, impeding manic depression et cetera et cetera et cetera... Oh, and by the way, expect lots of OOCness! Glares accusingly at Dyjae and Calisia
-Etto…Blinks do I still have to do the disclaimers? From what I hear, fan fic writers are virtually untouchable… Scratches the back of her neck uncertainly Of course, I could be wrong, ya know… anyhoo, just to be sure, Digimon belongs to Fox Kids, Bandai, and several other people I don't know. Rurouni Kenshin belongs to Sony, Nobuhiro Watsuki, and several other people I also don't know. All original characters belong to themselves. 'Cept maybe for the floating computer… I'd be inclined to believe that it would belong to Koushiro, but I can't be too sure. Now, where was I? Oh yes… Enjoy the idiocy!
-Ise
"So, Matt, tell me again why we're standing in the shower together…?" Jyou said, a humongous sweatdrop appearing on his forehead.
Yamato sighed and tugged restlessly at the sleeve of his jacket, "Because, Jyou, the e-mail said that we had to. It specifically said we should be here, in your shower, at this time." He replied, more than a little exasperated. True, he had absolutely no idea what was going on, and it was perfectly possible that it was all a huge joke, but he wasn't exactly inclined to believe that a floating laptop bathed in bright, ethereal light appearing out of nowhere could be a joke. At first, he was skeptical about it, but when the e-mail appeared on the laptop's screen, he found himself hard-put to refuse. After all the weird stuff that he had seen over the past four years, Yamato Ishida had learned not to take floating computers lightly.
Jyou shook his head, "It still doesn't make sense, why would somebody want us to stand in the bathroom together? And what kind of e-mail address is 'orange_omochi@studio45.net.universe' anyway?" The entire situation was ridiculous, it made absolutely no sense, and he felt very, very awkward standing in a shower stall with another guy.
Yamato shrugged helplessly, tiring of the normally reserved Jyou's endless whining. "I don't know." He replied, for what felt like the hundred and seventy-ninth time.
"We've been standing here for half an hour, Matt. I don't think anything's going to be happening anytime soon. This is probably just Koushiro's idea of a really twisted joke. He's probably outside right now, taking pictures of us in the shower together." Jyou grumbled.
"Izzy'd never do that." Matt retorted, having trouble imagining the serious and down-to-earth Koushiro playing a prank as warped as that. "Tai, maybe, but definitely not Izzy."
"Okay fine, so maybe this is Taichi's idea of a really twisted joke." Jyou said, raising his arms in an all-encompassing gesture of frustration, "Either way, I say we get out of here before your brother finds us in here and decides to blackmail us with pictures or something."
"Five minutes." Yamato replied, "Give it five minutes. If nothing happens, we get out of here, and never mention this ever again." Matt's voice took on a tone of command that left little room for objections. With a defeated sigh, Jyou nodded and slumped against the tile wall in sulky silence.
That silence stretched on for quite a while. After what felt like three eternities and an eon, Yamato glanced at his wristwatch for the thousandth time. "Five minutes." He mumbled. He lowered his watch and stared at the shower stall's ceiling as if expecting something, an epiphany, perhaps, to happen. Still nothing.
"So," Jyou chirped, sounding unusually cheerful, "Let's go then?"
Yamato released a long sigh and shook his head, "I guess we'd better." He muttered, moving to step out of the tiny shower stall. No sooner had he done so, a strange-looking plate laden with the most delectable-looking orange rice cakes in the known universe plopped down onto the floor, clattering noisily.
Jyou stared at it curiously, raising a quizzical eyebrow, "Well, this is interesting," he muttered. Cautiously, he hunkered down and picked up a rice cake. "Do you think this was what we were supposed to come here for?" He asked, speaking more to himself than to his somewhat aggravated companion.
Yamato shrugged and stepped back into the shower stall and plucked a pastry from the plate. Warily, he sniffed it and took a careful bite. His eyes widened, and a rueful grin stretched across his features, "This is good!" he exclaimed.
Jyou, unable to resist, bit carefully into the orange pastry. Before he could express his surprise and delight at the wonderful taste of the rice cake, a huge portal appeared on the stall's ceiling, and the two Digidestined got sucked in. The shower stall was now empty.
Takeru "TK" Takaishi ran to his brother's friend's bathroom, Polaroid clutched in his hand, eager to record what was probably going to be one of the most embarrassing experiences his older brother, Matt, would ever go through. Eagerly, he burst through the door, ready to catch his beloved Oniisan in a compromising position with a certain Jyou Kido, but found, in their stead, nothing; save an odd-looking plate of orange rice cakes on the shower stall floor.
"Crud." TK grumbled, walking dejectedly away.
~~~~
Kenshin stared dumbly at the strange box-thing floating above him, completely at a loss. His hand hovered cautiously over the hilt of his sword, should the box suddenly come to life and attack him and the dojo. Slowly, the thing lowered until it was completely level with Kenshin's face, and approximately six inches away from his nose. Kenshin's hand tightened around his sword's hilt, feeling his muscles tense and shift in readiness for battle, or whatever was to come. Suddenly, the box blinked, and a message appeared on it, written in impeccably precise hiragana. Slowly, he read the message aloud, making sure he was neither hallucinating nor dreaming.
"Himura Kenshin,
Go to the Kamiya Dojo's bathhouse at the stroke of midnight."
That was it. Straight to the point, no greetings, no formalities, just that. Kenshin sweatdropped and stared. Unsure of what to do, he blinked rather stupidly. When he opened his eyes, the box-contraption was gone, and not a trace of it remained. Kenshin's eyes widened in surprise and he whipped around, looking for some sign of the unusual box. Finding nothing, he shrugged uneasily. "That was odd de gozaru." He mumbled. With another hesitant shrug, he went off to finish the laundry.
^Midnight…^
Kenshin slipped out of his futon fully clothed. He picked up his sakabatou and crept out of his room, using every skill he had learned as an assassin so as not to awaken the other inmates of the Kamiya Dojo from their slumber. His footsteps were as weightless as the moonlight shining on the bamboo slats of the dojo's floor and as silent as a breeze across the meadows.
His fleet, sure steps brought him quickly to the empty bathhouse's entrance. He checked for signs of intruders or dangers of any sort; finding none, he proceeded onwards, hand held at ready over the hilt of his reverse-edged sword. Cautiously, he slid open the shoji door and crept in, expecting a madman of one sort or another to come charging at him with a katana. Fortunately, there were none, and the bathhouse was completely vacant. Kenshin breathed a sigh of relief and surveyed the vicinity in case an enemy had been hiding in the shadows, unnoticed by him. None. Again he sighed in relief. Moments later, a plate of rice cakes appeared out of thin air. Reflexively, he reached out and caught it before it fell to the floor. He eyed the scrumptious orange confections suspiciously. Could this be a trap? Would the unusual-looking rice cakes spontaneously combust and take the entire Kamiya Dojo with it? Was this the handiwork of a psychotic genius on a vengeful warpath against the ruthless assassin Kenshin once was?
"Orooooo…"
Kenshin stared at the orange pastries; they looked so good, and he didn't exactly have dinner, since Kaoru-dono had insisted on cooking… Kenshin's stomach rumbled noisily in the deathly stillness of the empty bath, reminding him of the none-too appealing fact that it was empty as well. Unable to resist the mouth-watering promise of having his all-too unhappy stomach satiated, he guardedly sniffed at the contents of the plate he held in his hand. The heavenly aroma of the omochi quickened his pulse, and his belly roared in anticipation.
"It probably wouldn't hurt to try de gozaru…" he muttered ruefully to himself. Battling the screaming protest of his instincts and his assassin training, the great Hitokiri Battousai took a bite of the suspiciously appetizingly irresistible omochi. Less than a split-second later, a portal opened above him. Despite his godlike speed, Kenshin barely even had time to cry out before he got sucked in.
-TBC!!!
Buh Buh Buh Buh!!! I'm DOOOOOONE!!! Your turn, Deej-chan…
CALISIA: Um hold on a sec, Ise, what exactly does "Buh Buh Buh Buh" mean?
ISE: Heck, I dunno! I just like the way it sounds! Jumps around, giggling
DYJAE: Sweatdrops That figures.
CALISIA: Also sweatdrops Hoo boy…
ALL: …