I'm back! ...err... rather later than I had intended to be. Sorry!! At some point "after Thanksgiving" turned into "before Christmas" and then everything went downhill from there. It doesn't help that I've been suffering under a severe case of writer's block (which basically means that everything I've tried to write in the last two weeks was utter crap. gah.) ...Anyway, on with the story!
Title: The Art Room Incident
date: 12-05-06
Warning: kind of on crack. mostly just silly.
They should have known they were in trouble when Jiroh showed up at practice late and covered in glitter.
"Jiroh… did something happen?"
It was a universal question, but Shishido was the only one dumb enough to actually ask it. Everyone else had been ignoring the volley specialist and his strange shimmer in the desperate hope that whatever had occurred it wouldn't affect them.
"Oh, no." All smiles, Jiroh shook his head, sending a cascade of rainbow sparkles into the air. "I was just helping Hiyoshi out with his art project."
As Jiroh paused, looking thoughtful, the regulars realized for the first time that Hiyoshi was not at practice. It was strange that none of them had noticed before since Hiyoshi, a firm believer in his much-lauded philosophy of 'gekokujou' and the possibility of achieving it through hard work, had never missed practice before for anything other than near-fatal illness. Yet here they were at practice and Hiyoshi, who had been there that morning, was mysteriously absent. Add to this the previous comments and a happy, awake Jiroh who was covered in glitter and… well, things did not bode well.
"Who in their right mind would let Jiroh into the art room?" Gakuto wondered, taking a step back. Oshitari shushed him.
"Just don't ask, Gakuto," he said. "With any luck we will never find out. …Perhaps the problem will go away on its own?"
The rest of the regulars agreed with this and so the entire team endeavored to ignore Jiroh, as per usual, as the boy stretched out on a bench to sleep and they went back to practice, sans Hiyoshi. And the problem did go away. It went away, that is, until near the end of practice when Sakaki showed up, looking exceptionally irritated. The regulars all stopped what they were doing as he called Atobe over and began what looked like a lecture that soon turned into a heated argument. As their voices gradually rose the others began to hear words like "teammates," and "actions" and "responsibility," and then the word that no one had wanted to hear: "repercussions."
The team collectively winced and Atobe walked away from their coach, both scowling for all they were worth. By the time the charismatic captain had reached his underlings he had managed to school his face into a more placid expression that somewhat resembled his usual haughty visage. If it weren't for the way that his eyebrow was twitching, no one would have known the difference.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded when they all just stared at him. "We're going."
They continued to stare.
"Err… going where?" someone asked.
Atobe gave them another haughty look, one that said 'this was my idea, really. I was in no way just given an ultimatum by kantoku and I am, most emphatically, doing this out of the goodness of my heart. And, coincidentally, so are you.'
"There appears to have been a localized natural disaster in the vicinity of the art room," he said. The gaze of every single member of the team drifted to where Jiroh was asleep on a bench in a puddle of glitter. "Seeing that one or more of our number may have been… involved,"—here everyone heard the clear implied meaning of 'the cause'—"Ore-sama has decided that it is his civic duty to perform damage control in the aftermath."
He stood there looking at them pointedly while they translated from Atobe-speak in their heads.
"Okaaay," said Gakuto finally, knowing he was going to regret his next question. "But what does that have to do with us?"
Atobe looked at him smugly.
"You, Mukahi, as Ore-sama's loyal teammates and followers, are compelled by duty and team solidarity to help."
Which meant, of course, that they would be doing all the work while Atobe stood back and barked orders at them. The team exchanged glances. Shishido was the first to open his mouth, obviously intent on loudly refusing the order.
"What?! No way in he—"
"Of course," Atobe said, smoothly interrupting him, "if your sense of team spirit is sadly lacking then it would be perfectly acceptable for you to stay here. Ore-sama is sure that there is plenty for you to do in the meantime. Why, only yesterday kantoku remarked to me that some of the more uncouth students have taken to sticking bubblegum to the bleachers." He narrowed his eyes at Shishido. "Ore-sama is sure that those of you who wish to stay behind would have no qualms about beautifying the courts."
There was a short pause while they considered the obvious threat in these words.
"Kabaji," said Atobe, snapping his fingers. "Bring Jiroh, but don't bother to wake him. We wouldn't want the incident to repeat itself, Aahn?"
"Uss."
The others watched as the gigantic second year hefted Jiroh over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and then trundled after their captain, who was already striding back towards the main building. They stood there for a moment and considered their options.
"Aw, man," complained Shishido. "Why do we have to suffer just because Jiroh needs psychiatric help? Can't we just go back to practice?"
"You can," replied Gakuto, walking after Atobe towards the art room. "Have fun cleaning gum off the bleachers."
Shishido scowled and followed him, the rest of the team not far behind.
And so it was that the Hyoutei tennis team found themselves one afternoon standing in the art room looking in horror at the destruction around them. Even Atobe had looked a little startled when they found him staring at the wreckage. The place looked as though it had been attacked by a rabid fairy that was bent on either the destruction of all mankind or the proliferation of pixie-dust. Crayons and paints were scattered around the room, some leaving trails of bright color across the tiled floor, the previously white walls and, in few choice place, the ceiling. Papers were tossed about, some drawn on, some lying haphazardly in puddles of paint. A few of the arts and crafts accessories had been dragged out of their boxes—glue, construction paper, Popsicle sticks, felt, even a few balloons had somehow made it into the mix. But by far the most obvious addition to the room was the thick layer of glitter that covered everything. Every surface shimmered.
Truly it was an overwhelming sight. It was probably to their credit that they stood there staring in shock for only five minutes before they actually got to work.
It was nearly sunset by the time they decided to call it a day. The room was nowhere near presentable, but they had managed to clean away most of the paint, and had stacked the papers and put away the art supplies. Someone had even managed to unearth Hiyoshi, who was then led away gently by Ohtori while the silver-haired boy assured him that everything would be okay.
"T-the rainbows…" Hiyoshi had whimpered in response. "Make them go away, Ohtori… sparkles… rainbows… make them… make them go away…"
After he had come back from the nurse's office, Ohtori reported that Hiyoshi was now resting comfortably, although it was possible he would need extensive therapy. By that time the second year had returned Jiroh had woken up, been lectured, grabbed a handful of crayons and run down the hall giggling, and then been dragged bodily back into the room by Shishido. The volley specialist was then coerced into helping them clean, although it only lasted for a few minutes before he got bored and went to sleep again.
At the end of the day they looked around and, despite ample evidence to the contrary, declared themselves finished. Regardless of all the time and effort they had spent on it, chances were that Hyoutei's art room would never be the same. There would always be strange stains on the ceiling that not even Ohtori and Kabaji were tall enough to scrub off. There would always be those three Popsicle sticks that were glued to the wall that no one had been able to pry away. And, as students would notice with curiosity for years to come, the whole room would always sparkle strangely whenever the light was just right. Try as they might, they never really managed to get the glitter out of the woodwork.
Try as he might, Hiyoshi never really managed to get it out of his clothes either. And if his hair shimmered for the next month or so, no one mentioned it.
A/N: You know, I love Hiyoshi, but I think I abuse him... Possibly I can just say that this is a slightly-late birthday gift for the poor shroom, except that he's not in it very much. Anyway, I apologize again for the horrible lateness of my update, and for the possible lateness of my future updates. Unbelievably just about everything in my LIFE seems broken right now--starting with my ability to write and continuing on through more mundane things like my fritzy internet and broken heating (not fun when there's snow on the ground. brr.) I know this sounds like a lot of lame excuses, but life is life and sometimes there's not much you can do about it getting in the way of the more important things, like sanity and fanfiction. :P In any case, I'm still going to try and update as often as I can... but we'll see how well that goes.