Yo, minna-san. Red_Planet31 here. This is my first fic so be kind, onegai! This fic can be classified under parody/humor/mystery/romance. This fic is a parody of the movie Clue. I don't know whether you guys have seen it but if you do please tell me cause I can't remember all the details. Oh yeah, I won't follow it exactly but most elements are the same. So, enjoy the story!!! Oh, and just assume the characters are all older.
Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis, I don't own Clue the board game nor the
movie. T_T
This fic is dedicated to WhItE_LiOn and K.C. who helped me with the story; Cheeseburger_of_Doom, cityneko, and Silver Wind, I love your fics; and to all TezuAto, AtoZuka, HiroKaji, and MizuFuji fanfic writers. I can't name all of you but this fic is dedicated to you guys. There will be a little TezuAto in this fic but your help will be greatly appreciated. Now, to the story.
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"speech"
thoughts
Chapter 1: The Invitations
Atobe Keigo, the narcissistic diva of Hyoutei, the self-proclaimed 'Ore-sama', the proud peacock, the only tennis player who was able to defeat the mighty Tezuka Kunimitsu of Seishun Gakuen, was staring at the outfit before him incredulously. He was trying to find the words to describe the… the… THING before him.
"What the HELL is this?!!!"
"Atobe-sama…" started the servant who brought the outfit to him but stopped the moment he saw Atobe's face.
"What the HELL is this?!!!"
"Atobe-sama…"
"What the HELL is this?!!!"
"Uhh… Atobe-sama…"
"You know, when I ask a question, I expect an ANSWER."
"H.. Hai. It came in the mail, Atobe-sama, along with this. Please don't kill me!!!" begged the servant, thrusting an envelope into Atobe's hands while running away, screaming like a lunatic. But, he's not that important.
"Good help is so hard to find these days" muttered Atobe.
"Yes, sir" agreed the other servant who is about as important as raw liver.
Atobe took out a card from the envelope. On its cover was emblazoned the words "INVITATION".
An invitation? For what?
"You are cordially invited to 112, Emmers Lane, Takea Peak(1), tonight at 7 p.m. for dinner. Do not inform anybody else about this. Your fake name will be given at the door of the house. Please wear the outfit enclosed with this invitation," at this Atobe's eyes nearly came out of their sockets, "I'm supposed to wear that… that… thing… NO WAY!!!!!!"
"Atobe-sama, you haven't read the fine print yet" reminded the servant about as important as raw liver.
"Fine print? What fine print?" asked Atobe eagerly, hoping with all with his heart that the words written in fine print would save him from his tragic fate. Heh, no such luck.
IF YOU REFUSE TO ATTEND OR WEAR THE DESIGNATED OUTFIT FOR THE DINNER, THE ENTIRE WORLD SHALL KNOW THE SECRETS THAT YOU WORK SO HARD TO HIDE. PLEASE CONSIDER THESE WORDS.
"Damn!!!"
"Atobe-sama, shall I inform the servants that you will not be having dinner at home?" asked the raw liver servant.
"Huh? Uh… yeah. Sure," answered Atobe not even really listening to the question. He just stared at the outfit on the bed before him once again.
Maybe if I close my eyes it will disappear.
He closed his eyes and prayed with all his might. First, he opened one eye and then the other.
"Damn!!!"
It was still there. It was a large, one piece shirt, bluish green in colour, like the feathers of a peacock. You know, like traditional Indian clothes. But it was very long. It could even be passed of as a dress except black, long pants were provided. That was not the bad thing however. What's bad was the hat that came with the ensemble. The hat was actually a fez covered in long feathers of a peacock's tail.
Atobe crumbled to the ground.
"NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
***
Wakato Hiroshi, the master copier of styles (A.N: And I mean this as a compliment), the Pretender, worshipped by hundreds, adored by thousands (A.N: As you can see, I obviously adore him, too), was currently playing tennis with his equally good looking captain, Kajimoto Takahisa, in the locker room. In case you're wondering how they can play tennis in a locker room, let me elaborate. They were playing tonsil tennis. Currently, Kajimoto was on top of Hiroshi who was lying on the floor. Their lips were locked on each other.
Meanwhile, outside the locker room, Youhei was waiting for his twin.
Where is he? If I have to listen to Kajimoto-buchou and Wakato…At that moment, Kouhei walked up to him. He was carrying an envelope and a large package.
"Where's Wakato?" Kouhei asked. "I've got a package for him."
"He's inside the locker room with Buchou playing tonsil tennis," answered Youhei. A particularly loud moan came in the direction of the locker room.
"Playing what?" asked Kouhei.
"You know, playing tonsil hockey. Tongue wrestling. 'Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation'. Making out. Hint hint. Nudge nudge. Wink wink. Eyebrows waggle waggle," Youhei tried to explain but to no avail. Kouhei just stared at him blankly.
Youhei sighed. "They're in the locker room kissing!"
"Ohhhh, why didn't you say so?" asked Kouhei.
Youhei's eyebrow twitched. "Nevermind. Just knock the door and call him."
"Hai," agreed Kouhei. He knocked on the door. No response. He knocked again. Still no response. He knocked again, this time louder. Wait, was that a response. No, he was just hallucinating. He began to kicked the door and yelled for Wakato.
"Oy, Wakato!!! Get out here!!!"
The door swung open and there stood Wakato Hiroshi radiating anger.
"WHAT?!!!" he yelled. His hair was a mess and his clothes were not even near neat. And, good lord, Youhei and Kouhei's eyes widened. Were those teeth marks on his neck?
"WHAT?!!!"
"Oh, here's a package. Some guy sent it to you," informed Kouhei.
"Some guy?" asked Hiroshi.
"Not my problem," answered Kouhei, as he and Youhei walked off to play tennis. The real game.
Hiroshi walked back into the locker room while opening the envelope and read the invitation. Kajimoto looked at him from where he was sitting on a bench.
"What's that?"
"An invitation. I have to go to 112, Emmers Lane, Takea Peak, tonight for dinner," answered Hiroshi.
"For dinner? Hiroshi are you cheating on me?" asked Kajimoto teasingly.
"Of course not, koi. Anyway, they say that I have to wear the outfit that they gave me" Or else my secrets will be revealed.
"What outfit?" asked Kajimoto.
"I think it's this," answered Hiroshi as he opened the package. Both he and Kajimoto's mouth fell open at the outfit before them.
"What the HELL is this?!!!"
Hiroshi was right to be shocked. The outfit consists of a red jacket, red leather pants, red shoes, a red collar, red shirt, and red tinted sunglasses. All in various shades of red.
"Wow," was Kajimoto's response.
"I have to wear THIS?"
"I like it," informed Kajimoto.
"It's not the style. It's just the colour. It's so RED."
"Scarlet red to be precise."
"Gee, you're just brimming with useful comments," snapped Hiroshi.
"Calm down, Hiro. Just go to the dinner. Have fun."
"You sure?"
"Don't worry. We'll go out this weekend, alright?"
"Okay, but seriously it's so RED."
"Hiroshi!"
***
Kawamura Takashi, the meekest but never the weakest member of Seigaku, was helping his father out at his restaurant. He was at the age that he must be prepared to be in charge of the shop. The 'onigiri' he was making was coming out perfectly. Suddenly, some mysterious people came into the shop. Kawamura's father greeted them. They looked at Kawamura who just stared at them blankly. I don't think I know them.
"Oy, Taka. These men want to see you," told his father.
"Hai. Uh… can I help you?" Kawamura asked the men.
"Kawamura-san. We have an invitation and a package for you. We hope you will accept the invitation," said, who Kawamura presumed was the leader, as the others deposited a package and an envelope into his arms.
Kawamura looked down into his arms. When he looked up, the men were gone. He opened the envelope and took out the invitation. When he saw the clothes that were in the package, he just stared BLANKLY. There was an emerald green suit, a dark green tie, and… ughh… lime green loafers.
He stared mesmerizingly at the loafers. He was sure they could glow in the dark. Suddenly, his father shouted.
"Taka, phone call!!!!"
"H.. Hai." He answered the phone.
"Hello, sir. Yes. Yes. But I don't want to go to the dinner. Why? Well, uh.. I don't like green. I'll explain it to you later. What, sir? Get my tennis racket? Um… okay." He grabbed his tennis racket which was conveniently placed right next to him. Wonder of all wonders. The moment he touched his racket…
"GREATO!!! BURNING!!! I WILL GO TO THE DINNER!!! COME ON, BABY!!!!!"
***
Mizuki Hajime, the cunning player and the ruthless manager of St. Rudolph, the one with the ego that can only be matched by Atobe and Hiroshi, was writing in his journal with the purple velvet cover while using a pen with purple glitter ink. He was sitting cross legged on the purple sheets of his bed. The curtains were purple. The furniture was a pale purple but purple nonetheless. He was absentmindedly twirling his hair as he wrote down his observations on the people around him.
Dear Journal,
My plan to get Wakato Hiroshi and Kajimoto Takahisa together is working out perfectly. They've been going steady for a month already. I
What else he wanted to write, you won't know, because there was a knock at his door.
"Yes? Come in."
"Hajime, there's a package for you. And a letter."
"Okay, ne'chan," He took the stuff and closed the door. He opened the package first. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.
"What the…?!"
What he saw was a purple lab coat, purple trousers, purple shoes, a purple scarf, and strangely, a purple cowboy hat. If it wasn't for the hat, he would look like a teacher. A teacher obsessed with purple.
Mizuki took a deep breath. And squealed.
"OMIGOD!!! IT'S JUST ADORABLE!!! I LOVE IT!!!"
After squealing about the outfit for half an hour he finally read the invitation.
A dinner at 112, Emmers Lane, Takea Peak. My secrets? Who would know my secrets? I better go. I could thank whoever sent me this outfit.
He spent the rest of the day squealing at his clothes and cooing at it like a baby.
***
Shishido Ryou, the beautiful, melodramatic, member of Hyoutei Gakuen Tennis Club, was in a bar playing billiards with Ootori. He was, of course, winning, as he was a pro at billiards. He knew Ootori wouldn't be mad at him for beating him again and again and again and again and again and-
"Shishido-sempai," said Ootori.
"Huh? What, Ootori?" said Shishido, a little confused after having his train of thought interrupted.
"It's your turn."
"Oh, right," remembered Shishido as he targeted his cue, trying to hide his blush. All week, he tried everything to get Ootori to come with him to this bar and when he finally succeeded, all Shishido did was space out.
Baka, baka, baka!!!
Luckily, he still managed to concentrate and potted the eight ball easily into the corner pocket. (A.N: I'm not sure whether that's billiards or pool or snooker. Bear with me, please)
"Sugoi, Shishido-sempai," praised Ootori.
"It wasn't that great," said Shishido humbly. In his head however…
Yeah, you the man!!! Who's the best?! Come on!!! Who's your daddy?!!!
"Really, it wasn't that great," repeated Shishido, grinning happily when he saw Ootori smiling at him.
Oh yeah, I'm bad. I'm in the groove!!!
Suddenly, somebody tapped his shoulder. Shishido turned around, ready to snap at the person for interrupting his thoughts. Only Ootori can do that. He stopped when he saw who it was. It was a young girl. The young girl gave him a package and a letter and ran off.
"Oy," Shishido called after her. What was that about?
"Sempai, looks like you have an admirer," observed Ootori.
"Huh? No way. She is far too young," argued Shishido.
"Fine. Are you going to open it?" asked his beloved junior.
Shishido nodded and read the invitation. He looked nervous when he read the fine print. He opened the package silently. Inside, was a black sleeveless T-shirt. Black boots. Black fingerless gloves. Black pants. And a metal chain with the letters W.H.I.T.E. on it. Not to mention a black beret.
"……."
"Wow, that must be some admirer"
"……."
"Where are you going to wear it to?"
"……."
"Uh… Sempai?"
"……."
"Sempai?"
"……."
Ootori poked him lightly and gaped when Shishido fell down silently.
"SEMPAI!!!" Shishido's face looked like this @_@
After a few minutes, Ootori managed to revive Shishido.
"Sempai, daijoubu desu ka?"
"Hai, daijoubu desu," answered Shishido still staring at the outfit.
"Okay, what was in the invitation?"
"I have to go to a dinner at 112, Emmers Lake, Takea Peak, tonight."
"Why?"
"Wakaranai, but it can't be good, I can feel it in my bones." Said Shishido, a dark look on his face.
***
Tezuka Kunimitsu, the tennis player who was only ever beaten by Atobe Keigo, the stoic, mature, responsible not to mention good looking buchou of Seigaku, was at his computer, typing in his assignment. He lived alone in a big house. His butler came in and passed him a, you guessed it, package and an envelope. He looked up quietly.
"This just came in for you, Tezuka-sama. It was in the mailbox but there was no stamp
on it," told his butler.
Tezuka nodded silently and accepted the package. He read
the invitation silently and barely gave it a second glance. He opened the
package quietly. The clothes were very neat and were a mustardy
colour. It looked kinda
like a high ranking officer in the army's uniform. It was very regal and
elegant, but it's colour
was… unusual. It came along with black boots and a long beige coloured coat. Tezuka made no
comment. I would like to note that his eyebrow was twitching madly, though.
At half past five, he got ready. At six, he left for 112, Emmers Lane, Takea Peak. Unknown to him, so did five others.
TO BE CONTINUED
***
(1) Takea Peak= Pronounced TA-KE-A but I got the name from the phrase 'take a
peek'. Get it, Take A Peek. Takea Peak. Hahahahahaha
Hope you like the first chapter. I'll update as soon as possible. Remember to review. PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't ask why, just do!!!!!!
Sayonara