First off, thanks to my reviewers (all three of them).
Disclaimer: I am going to disclaim my connection with the disappearances of several people. FBI, if you are reading this, they are NOT being kept in test tubes in my basement. I am NOT building an evil army of zombie android clones to take over the world and install my new government system, which would probably be an improvement.
Wait. All you want me to say is that I do not own RK? So THAT'S what disclaimers are for? I'd never seem one before.
I do not own RK.
---------------------------------
In this segment we continue with what it would REALLY be like if the RK cast went to high school, which is a common setting for a totally messed up story [some are probably good, I just haven't PERSONALLY read one].
--------------------------------
Iwekasi Takema was not usually a very happy individual. Not only had the stupid author just strung together a bunch of random Japanese sounding syllables [she hopes] to form his name, but the name she had made meant "steaming pile of horse shit." Naturally, his peers teased him to no end. Walking down the hall on his way to Latin class, he could hear jeers of "Hey, Iwen, your steam smells particularly bad today!" and "Hey, Shitty, how's the homework coming?"
His name wasn't helped by the fact that he was a borderline obnoxious brainiac.
For once, he didn't mind the taunting as much as usual. He only had Latin twice a week, and he really enjoyed it. Other people couldn't see the sense in declensions or conjugations. Ever notice how other people always seem unbelievably stupid? Latin, when you think about it, just makes so much sense. There are barely any irregular words, and you put the sentence in any word order you like, and the meaning is the same. It was just so sensible.
Before he knew it, he was standing outside professor Tajimoto's door. He shuffled his books around in his arms until he had a free hand with which to open the door. Stepping inside, he realized how boring this paragraph was. Then he realized that they had a substitute today. A tall, muscular man with long black hair was standing behind the desk at the front of the room. Well, if you could say standing. He was more like looming in the front of the room, if a man could loom. His huge cape didn't do anything to detract from the effect.
Takema took is seat in the front of the room. He liked to be right under the teacher's nose. Gave him the best chance of being noticed when he raised his hand. Which was most of the time.
The rest of the class filed in, their usual boring selves, taking seats and complaining about how much this class sucked.
When everyone had sat down, the teacher declared, "I am Master Seijiro Hiko the thirteenth. You may call me The Magnificent, Sexy, Deadly, All Powerful One."
The girl next to him snorted, and several others repressed giggles. Who did this guy think he was, anyway?
Hiko's hand flew to the hilt of his katana and he bellowed, "SILENCE! If you wish to learn the Hiten-Mitsurugi art of swordsmanship, YOU MUST RESPECT THE MAGNIFICENT, SEXY, DEADLY, ALL POWERFUL HIKO!!!!"
This, and the fact that his arms were thicker than Takema's head, shut people up. This was great, Takema thought. They had an insane egotistical swordsman as their substitute. He probably killed the principle to get the job.
"Now, lesson one: getting acquainted with your sword."
The smart-aleck Kisho sat in the third row, his hands behind his head, feet placed up on the desk. He was never well behaved, and regarded substitutes as sport. "But we were supposed to learn the imperitive case today."
Hiko was glaring at the casually insulting cynic.
"'Getting to know your sword'? You make your Hiten-Mitsurugi style sound like a program for drunk, drug-addled loonies.
The man was positively livid now, but Kisho took no notice.
"Are you just reliving your past experiences with us?"
Hiko snapped. He walked over to where Kisho was sitting and took his sword out of his belt, then raised it above his head, sheath and all. He brought it smashing down onto Kisho's wooden desk, splintering it into a thousand pieces, raising both a puff of smoke and collective gasps from the onlookers. Someone screamed.
"Everyone grab a splinter of his desk and show me your stances. NOW!!"
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Katarai Nami knew she would be late to class if she went to the bathroom. Master Fujito was very strict about being late, but she preferred having an empty bladder to having to suffer through an entire 120 minute block without the bathroom, even if it meant a scolding. Naturally, he wouldn't let you leave the class even if you were literally wetting your pants. Which had happened to several students, who had to sit there for the rest of the class, because the old bat would not let them leave.
She opened the door that said "women" on it with a quick thought of 'why are all the signs in English? Must be another stupid fanfiction.' followed by a wave of relief. There was one open stall. And it was hers. She put her books up on the little shelf provided for that purpose, then opened the door of the stall.
Her heart stopped. There was someone- a male someone- on the toilet. He was sitting cross-legged on the closed lid, his eyes shut and hands on his knees. He was meditating. He was also very hot.
She screamed, and his eyes snapped open. He remarked nonchalantly, "I enjoy the privacy these white shrines provide, though they are a little cramped."
Yes. Aoshi Shinomori was meditating in a toilet stall.
She fainted dead away.
------------------------------------------------------
Sanosuke, Yahiko, and Kaoru were eating lunch in an overcrowded cafeteria. They had been served slop that made Kaoru's food taste like gourmet cooking, as Yahiko pointed out immediately, earning himself a face full of what vaguely resembled mashed potatoes.
Sano was complaining about a weird porcelain monster that tried to "suck his [insert your favorite slang words for reproductive organs] into the dark region! I mean, I just sat down and WOOSH–!
"You think your day was bad?" Asked an abnormally glum Kenshin as he put down his tray. "In this gi I've been hit on by so many guys it's not even funny. And I don't even know which is worse, the ones who think that I'm a girl, or the ones that realize I'm a guy."
Yay, ending. I have some ideas for a part 2 to this (Shishio as a motivational speaker), there might be a sequel if I think of a few more.
If you have a genre you want to see parodied or any other random idea, I could use the suggestions.
Disclaimer: I am going to disclaim my connection with the disappearances of several people. FBI, if you are reading this, they are NOT being kept in test tubes in my basement. I am NOT building an evil army of zombie android clones to take over the world and install my new government system, which would probably be an improvement.
Wait. All you want me to say is that I do not own RK? So THAT'S what disclaimers are for? I'd never seem one before.
I do not own RK.
---------------------------------
In this segment we continue with what it would REALLY be like if the RK cast went to high school, which is a common setting for a totally messed up story [some are probably good, I just haven't PERSONALLY read one].
--------------------------------
Iwekasi Takema was not usually a very happy individual. Not only had the stupid author just strung together a bunch of random Japanese sounding syllables [she hopes] to form his name, but the name she had made meant "steaming pile of horse shit." Naturally, his peers teased him to no end. Walking down the hall on his way to Latin class, he could hear jeers of "Hey, Iwen, your steam smells particularly bad today!" and "Hey, Shitty, how's the homework coming?"
His name wasn't helped by the fact that he was a borderline obnoxious brainiac.
For once, he didn't mind the taunting as much as usual. He only had Latin twice a week, and he really enjoyed it. Other people couldn't see the sense in declensions or conjugations. Ever notice how other people always seem unbelievably stupid? Latin, when you think about it, just makes so much sense. There are barely any irregular words, and you put the sentence in any word order you like, and the meaning is the same. It was just so sensible.
Before he knew it, he was standing outside professor Tajimoto's door. He shuffled his books around in his arms until he had a free hand with which to open the door. Stepping inside, he realized how boring this paragraph was. Then he realized that they had a substitute today. A tall, muscular man with long black hair was standing behind the desk at the front of the room. Well, if you could say standing. He was more like looming in the front of the room, if a man could loom. His huge cape didn't do anything to detract from the effect.
Takema took is seat in the front of the room. He liked to be right under the teacher's nose. Gave him the best chance of being noticed when he raised his hand. Which was most of the time.
The rest of the class filed in, their usual boring selves, taking seats and complaining about how much this class sucked.
When everyone had sat down, the teacher declared, "I am Master Seijiro Hiko the thirteenth. You may call me The Magnificent, Sexy, Deadly, All Powerful One."
The girl next to him snorted, and several others repressed giggles. Who did this guy think he was, anyway?
Hiko's hand flew to the hilt of his katana and he bellowed, "SILENCE! If you wish to learn the Hiten-Mitsurugi art of swordsmanship, YOU MUST RESPECT THE MAGNIFICENT, SEXY, DEADLY, ALL POWERFUL HIKO!!!!"
This, and the fact that his arms were thicker than Takema's head, shut people up. This was great, Takema thought. They had an insane egotistical swordsman as their substitute. He probably killed the principle to get the job.
"Now, lesson one: getting acquainted with your sword."
The smart-aleck Kisho sat in the third row, his hands behind his head, feet placed up on the desk. He was never well behaved, and regarded substitutes as sport. "But we were supposed to learn the imperitive case today."
Hiko was glaring at the casually insulting cynic.
"'Getting to know your sword'? You make your Hiten-Mitsurugi style sound like a program for drunk, drug-addled loonies.
The man was positively livid now, but Kisho took no notice.
"Are you just reliving your past experiences with us?"
Hiko snapped. He walked over to where Kisho was sitting and took his sword out of his belt, then raised it above his head, sheath and all. He brought it smashing down onto Kisho's wooden desk, splintering it into a thousand pieces, raising both a puff of smoke and collective gasps from the onlookers. Someone screamed.
"Everyone grab a splinter of his desk and show me your stances. NOW!!"
------------------------------------------------------
Katarai Nami knew she would be late to class if she went to the bathroom. Master Fujito was very strict about being late, but she preferred having an empty bladder to having to suffer through an entire 120 minute block without the bathroom, even if it meant a scolding. Naturally, he wouldn't let you leave the class even if you were literally wetting your pants. Which had happened to several students, who had to sit there for the rest of the class, because the old bat would not let them leave.
She opened the door that said "women" on it with a quick thought of 'why are all the signs in English? Must be another stupid fanfiction.' followed by a wave of relief. There was one open stall. And it was hers. She put her books up on the little shelf provided for that purpose, then opened the door of the stall.
Her heart stopped. There was someone- a male someone- on the toilet. He was sitting cross-legged on the closed lid, his eyes shut and hands on his knees. He was meditating. He was also very hot.
She screamed, and his eyes snapped open. He remarked nonchalantly, "I enjoy the privacy these white shrines provide, though they are a little cramped."
Yes. Aoshi Shinomori was meditating in a toilet stall.
She fainted dead away.
------------------------------------------------------
Sanosuke, Yahiko, and Kaoru were eating lunch in an overcrowded cafeteria. They had been served slop that made Kaoru's food taste like gourmet cooking, as Yahiko pointed out immediately, earning himself a face full of what vaguely resembled mashed potatoes.
Sano was complaining about a weird porcelain monster that tried to "suck his [insert your favorite slang words for reproductive organs] into the dark region! I mean, I just sat down and WOOSH–!
"You think your day was bad?" Asked an abnormally glum Kenshin as he put down his tray. "In this gi I've been hit on by so many guys it's not even funny. And I don't even know which is worse, the ones who think that I'm a girl, or the ones that realize I'm a guy."
Yay, ending. I have some ideas for a part 2 to this (Shishio as a motivational speaker), there might be a sequel if I think of a few more.
If you have a genre you want to see parodied or any other random idea, I could use the suggestions.