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tennis_hellWho: Zaizen Hikaru, Kirihara Akaya (and YOU?!)
What: Delicious pancakes. Also, cat ears.
When: Friday morning
Where: Mikiya Mansion's open kitchen.
Rating: PG
After the cat tail incident on Sunday, Akaya gave Zaizen the cold shoulder until Zaizen's radio show drama on Wednesday night. Late Thursday, an sort-of apology was made, with a sort-of offer for breakfast as Zaizen's way of showing he was sort-of sorry.
Come Friday morning at Mikiya mansion, this is what has so far transpired.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Mikiya Mansion kitchen was surprisingly quiet, with only the bustle of his own activity and favorite playlist to be heard. This suited Zaizen well; no one needed to see him measuring out cups of this and that in preparation for pancake batter. Also, it was entirely likely that a fuller kitchen meant much fewer pancakes.
Cooking like this for someone other than his nephew felt alien, but he supposed that it matched the idea of doing something for a wronged party that he didn’t particularly enjoy. Although, in Zaizen’s opinion, Akaya had done at least part of the wrong in failing to check himself at least a little before leaving the clubroom. “I’m so done. That man child better like fucking strawberries,” he muttered under his breath.
Mikiya Mansion wasn’t unfamiliar to Akaya, but walking up to it always felt a little strange. He kind of felt like an outsider in a gated community. Regardless, this morning he was distracted from his usual trepidation by a feeling of triumph. He knew getting Zaizen to admit any kind of fault was like drawing blood from a stone, but he’d gotten pretty damn close to an actual apology.
Swinging himself around the doorframe into the dorm’s kitchen, Akaya paused momentarily before swooping upon the array of ingredients on the counter. He considered each one carefully, a faux-judging eye over Zaizen’s cooking abilities, before speaking.
“Good morning, drama queen.”
“Excuse you -- drama king,” Zaizen corrected Kirihara, his narrowed stare lingering a little longer than usual. So they weren't going to be weird about this, then. Good. “If you’re wondering which one is cyanide…”
Instead of answering, he started systematically putting the ingredients into the bowl for stirring.
“They’re not all cyanide?” Akaya questioned flatly. He took a seat on one of the stools that had been dragged to the kitchen counter by someone else and left there.
He watched Zaizen quietly for a few moments, leaning one elbow on the counter. Honestly, Akaya hadn’t planned this very well aside from “get there, eat pancake”. Then again, he felt like he shouldn’t be the first one to speak up - even though he was sitting here, and Zaizen was preparing him not-apology breakfast, Zaizen knew that Akaya giving him the cold shoulder was pretty serious.
He still snagged a strawberry within reaching distance, though.
“This is a special apology meal just for you, so one of them is arsenic,” Zaizen replied, stirring everything together with surprising expertise. Just because he was too lazy to cook didn’t mean he couldn’t do it; as if Zaizen would ever feed his nephew anything sub-par.
Although he didn’t whap Akaya with a wooden spoon, the theft earned him a side-eye, “I think we can call you the drama emperor — with your divorce matcha cream and passive aggressive hidden contest. Have you decided who you’re bringing?”
A smirk threatened to creep on to Akaya’s face. So, the message from his post did get out after all. He shrugged - at least this had been recognised as an actual apology meal now.
“The matcha cream thing wasn’t planned, really,” a shrug. “I had it on me already and didn’t wanna cart it back home again, so I just left it here.”
That was actually true - he had picked it up on the way to his practice on Sunday morning, and was not going to have the chocolate sit in his fridge until he inevitably ate it or was less mad at Zaizen (definitely the former). It did leave an impact to just drop it at Zaizen’s door and then not speak to him for four days.
“As for the contest, it was only secret to you, and… ehh. It turned out to be not much of a contest. I kinda figured as much, but I’m gonna take Yukimura-buchou. Did you actually eat the- ah, of course you did, why am I asking.”
Zaizen snorted, “you could have given it to someone else, or yourself.”
To get all the lumps in the batter, Zaizen cleaned up the sides of the bowl with a flat kitchen tool and started stirring with a little more vigor.
“Even divorce matcha cream shouldn’t go to waste — it was dinner.” What a tragedy it would have been, to just stare at it. “Good choice. I think you’ll play well.”
Zaizen meant that while Kirihara would play well regardless, having someone that important by his side might enhance an already good game.
“Yeah, but, like you said. Divorce chocolate. It worked, right?” Akaya said, putting his forearms on the counter and leaning his head on them to watch the pancake mixing. “And thanks, I think so too. I’m only worried about him arguing with my coach again.”
He decided to not comment on a single small box of chocolate being Zaizen’s dinner. He would’ve been too angry at the time to care, and starting now would just be silly. Watching Zaizen finish up the batter, Akaya was reminded on something.
“Hey, did you end up fixing my apron? You ain’t wearing one, hypocrite.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Zaizen’s un-aproned torso with its vulnerable-to-batter shirt.
As a final measure to make sure no batter went to waste, Zaizen wiped the spatula over the whisk. “Yes, yes, our curry marriage has been fully dissolved with matcha cream. You’re welcome, ex-wife.”
A sideways smirk accompanied that light jab, but even more promising was the bit of butter that Zaizen warmed on the pan.
“I fixed your apron, but do I really need to wear it when I’m a hundred times neater than you?”
Akaya falsely heaved a heavy sigh of relief, waving one hand in the air dramatically. “Ahh, at least you can’t accuse me of cheating on you any more.”
The sound of frying was music to Akaya’s ears - he was pretty hungry at this point. The commute to Mikiya wasn’t particularly short, and Akaya had been run down with a lot of tennis the past week, so his appetite was ready for a whole lot of pancakes.
“Aw, whatever, it’s the principle of it, yanno?” Akaya whined. “Can I go get it in a minute anyway?”
The batter came perfectly smooth and, while the butter sizzled, Zaizen took out a container of perfectly sliced banana and added it to the mix. To be mindful of Kirihara’s diet, he kept the ingredients as healthy as he could afford.
“True -- I’ll just have to be more creative with my wild accusations,” Zaizen drawled flatly, prodding a bit at Kirihara with the clean end of the spatula after mixing in the banana. “You can go get it now. I don’t trust you not to try and eat something too hot off the stove anyway. Key card is in my phone case.” He tilted his head to where the phone rested safely on the countertop.
Ineffectually batting away the utensil poking, Akaya watched the pancakes begin to bubble and breathed in the sweet smell of cooking banana and sugar. This was going to be a good morning after four days of hard work and sulking.
Swinging himself off the stool at the instruction, the phone case was looted for the key card and Akaya tapped it on Zaizen’s head briefly. “Thaaank-you,” he drawled, leaving for the stairs, but not before sneaking a stray slice of banana into his mouth.
Zaizen glared like a flat-eared cat. He couldn’t even fix his hair while cooking, lest he accidentally brush a stray strand into the batter.
He would have told Akaya to not go through his shit but, well, there seemed like very little point. “Just don’t touch my guitars!” he called, as the tennis player gamboled up the steps.
Zaizen’s room was always neat, or as neat as it could be when it was so crammed with stuff. Akaya knew Zaizen owned too many things to be entirely comfortable in this relatively small place, but he was too stubborn to reduce the clutter and too poor to upgrade, so it was kind of a stuck situation.
The desk seemed like the most reasonable place for the apron to end up, so that was where Akaya started. It wasn’t on top of the table, so naturally the logical thing was to go through the desk-side drawers.
The suspiciously plain-looking bag in the second drawer down catches his eye immediately. Zaizen had only specified to not mess with his guitars, so technically he was still within the assigned limits. Upending the bag into his hands, Akaya stared at the item with confusion, followed rapidly by understanding and then something sly and conniving.
Hiding the newly-obtained item in his jacket, Akaya spotted the actual apron sitting in a loosely-open bag nearer to the door. Scooping it up, he flitted back downstairs, trying to look as innocent as possible.
Judging by the look on Kirihara’s face, the devilish guy had rifled through at least seventy percent of his shit. Expected. In the elapsed time, Zaizen had managed to fry up two perfect pancakes and set another two on the well primed pan for a second batch. “I love the smell of poison in the morning,” he drawled. “Don’t you?”
And his shirt was still pristine. Apron completely unnecessary.
In fairness, it had only been about twenty-five percent of Zaizen’s shit. It had just been rewarding.
The pancakes smelled absolutely divine and looked a pretty picture, too. Akaya practically swooped on them like a bird of prey, apron bag and all, nabbing the first plate and settling into one of the kitchen chairs just outside the cooking area.
“Legendary Zaizen pancakes,” he said almost reverently. “I doubted their existence for many years, and yet they’re right here in front of me now.”
The eagerness was sort of cute. Kind of. Like a video of a raccoon stealing a candy bar from a convenience store.
“Congratulations. After seven years of bullshit, you’ve unlocked the pancakes side-quest,” Zaizen gestured his arm out, vaguely simulating a rainbow. “At least add whipped cream, strawberries, and syrup like a civilized person.”
“What level does this put me at now?” Akaya questioned jokingly, getting back up to grab the toppings that had been suggested.
Before adding anything, though, he cut away a plain piece to try the pancakes on their own. Of course, they were perfect - Akaya practically melted on the spot. Getting to work proportioning the toppings, he grinned slyly at Zaizen.
“Maybe I should get mad at you more often if this is what I get out of it.”
As he prodded his way around the pancakes to ensure the perfect amount of slide, Zaizen said, “I’m a dungeon with no map. Explore at your own peril.”
Zaizen saw that Akaya liked what he ate and decided to accompany breakfast with a little show. The pan tilted forward by his hand and -- with an added flick of the wrist -- had the pancakes soaring in a beautiful arc and landing uncooked side down into the cradle of butter and heat. Smirking right back at Kirihara, he said, “Don’t expect to find the same treasure in the room you just raided.”
Not to mention that Zaizen would probably see that ploy coming from a mile away.
Akaya raised an eyebrow at Zaizen’s display of pan acrobatics. “Show-off,” he muttered, trying his very best to not look impressed (he was).
Focusing his attention back to the food at hand, Akaya savoured the pancakes and fruit with careful and slow bites, much unlike his usual habit of eating as quickly as he could. Almost done with the first short stack, he remembered the item he had pilfered from Zaizen’s deskside drawer.
Leaving the last little bit of breakfast on his plate, Akaya got up and walked over under the guise of checking on the cooking.
Zaizen huffed lightly, but otherwise didn’t respond to that comment. Kirihara had no right to call him a show-off after those tennis matches a little more than a week before. His breakfast guest’s approach didn’t draw any wariness, as Zaizen simply assumed he was coming up to either receive another pancake or get a better eta for its arrival to his gut.
Judging by the way he still had to nudge the spatula under the cooking pancake to keep it from sticking, it would need another minute or so.
Not wanting the pancakes to burn (what a waste), a few moments of some possibly-suspicious shuffling followed Akaya’s approach. He inspected the ingredients left over, keeping an eye on Zaizen’s progress on the current pancake. As soon as the pan left the heat, though…
Akaya sprung, deftly removing the cat ears from his sleeve and sliding them into Zaizen’s hair in a single smooth movement, muffled cackling following the successful adornment.
Zaizen parted his lips to comment on Akaya’s high level pining when the swift tennis player instigated full-on torment. He startled and removed the offensive object from his head.
Cat ears. So this was what Akaya had looked so smug about. “My hair,” he complained, glaring at hysteric Akaya as he fixed up his fringe. To ward Akaya off approaching again, Zaizen said, “I can launch the next ones into the air, you know. Horrible waste of food.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Akaya said warily. “Not when you paid for some of this.”
Nevertheless, Akaya snuck close enough to steal the ears out of Zaizen’s hands again, flicking the headband around his wrist in a show of something like dexterity. There was no way he was going to let Zaizen get away with only that amount of cat-eared experience, but the thread of food had warded him away from attempting again just yet.
And the prize was gone from his hands. Zaizen’s eyes narrowed on Kirihara as he contemplated his words and the associated sacrifice.
The things one did for dignity.
He scooped one of his completed pancakes on the spatula and brought it a bit back, threatening to catapult if Kirihara tried anything that his skillful taunting suggested that he might. They were at impasse; he stepped away from the stove, for the sake of safety and to get better access to the whipped cream can and the rest of the room. “Try it. Go ahead.”
The offensive stance that Zaizen took made Akaya pause, ears in one hand. His shoulders squared defensively. There was no way he was going to let that top quality foodstuff get ruined, but also no way he was going to concede to Zaizen and miss the chance to make the most use of the item he’d managed to get back.
Calculations had never been a strong point, but he was still a tennis player. Trajectory, he could estimate. With that in mind, as well as Zaizen’s own cunning abilities, Akaya made his choice. With a wicked grin, he lunged forward.
“Don’t test me-!”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
From this point on, feel free to have your characters wander in and question the nonsense that is occurring in this very public kitchen. They can be visiting, passing on by, or just wanting to get their own damn breakfast but this pair of ridiculous children block their safe passage.
What: Delicious pancakes. Also, cat ears.
When: Friday morning
Where: Mikiya Mansion's open kitchen.
Rating: PG
After the cat tail incident on Sunday, Akaya gave Zaizen the cold shoulder until Zaizen's radio show drama on Wednesday night. Late Thursday, an sort-of apology was made, with a sort-of offer for breakfast as Zaizen's way of showing he was sort-of sorry.
Come Friday morning at Mikiya mansion, this is what has so far transpired.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Mikiya Mansion kitchen was surprisingly quiet, with only the bustle of his own activity and favorite playlist to be heard. This suited Zaizen well; no one needed to see him measuring out cups of this and that in preparation for pancake batter. Also, it was entirely likely that a fuller kitchen meant much fewer pancakes.
Cooking like this for someone other than his nephew felt alien, but he supposed that it matched the idea of doing something for a wronged party that he didn’t particularly enjoy. Although, in Zaizen’s opinion, Akaya had done at least part of the wrong in failing to check himself at least a little before leaving the clubroom. “I’m so done. That man child better like fucking strawberries,” he muttered under his breath.
Mikiya Mansion wasn’t unfamiliar to Akaya, but walking up to it always felt a little strange. He kind of felt like an outsider in a gated community. Regardless, this morning he was distracted from his usual trepidation by a feeling of triumph. He knew getting Zaizen to admit any kind of fault was like drawing blood from a stone, but he’d gotten pretty damn close to an actual apology.
Swinging himself around the doorframe into the dorm’s kitchen, Akaya paused momentarily before swooping upon the array of ingredients on the counter. He considered each one carefully, a faux-judging eye over Zaizen’s cooking abilities, before speaking.
“Good morning, drama queen.”
“Excuse you -- drama king,” Zaizen corrected Kirihara, his narrowed stare lingering a little longer than usual. So they weren't going to be weird about this, then. Good. “If you’re wondering which one is cyanide…”
Instead of answering, he started systematically putting the ingredients into the bowl for stirring.
“They’re not all cyanide?” Akaya questioned flatly. He took a seat on one of the stools that had been dragged to the kitchen counter by someone else and left there.
He watched Zaizen quietly for a few moments, leaning one elbow on the counter. Honestly, Akaya hadn’t planned this very well aside from “get there, eat pancake”. Then again, he felt like he shouldn’t be the first one to speak up - even though he was sitting here, and Zaizen was preparing him not-apology breakfast, Zaizen knew that Akaya giving him the cold shoulder was pretty serious.
He still snagged a strawberry within reaching distance, though.
“This is a special apology meal just for you, so one of them is arsenic,” Zaizen replied, stirring everything together with surprising expertise. Just because he was too lazy to cook didn’t mean he couldn’t do it; as if Zaizen would ever feed his nephew anything sub-par.
Although he didn’t whap Akaya with a wooden spoon, the theft earned him a side-eye, “I think we can call you the drama emperor — with your divorce matcha cream and passive aggressive hidden contest. Have you decided who you’re bringing?”
A smirk threatened to creep on to Akaya’s face. So, the message from his post did get out after all. He shrugged - at least this had been recognised as an actual apology meal now.
“The matcha cream thing wasn’t planned, really,” a shrug. “I had it on me already and didn’t wanna cart it back home again, so I just left it here.”
That was actually true - he had picked it up on the way to his practice on Sunday morning, and was not going to have the chocolate sit in his fridge until he inevitably ate it or was less mad at Zaizen (definitely the former). It did leave an impact to just drop it at Zaizen’s door and then not speak to him for four days.
“As for the contest, it was only secret to you, and… ehh. It turned out to be not much of a contest. I kinda figured as much, but I’m gonna take Yukimura-buchou. Did you actually eat the- ah, of course you did, why am I asking.”
Zaizen snorted, “you could have given it to someone else, or yourself.”
To get all the lumps in the batter, Zaizen cleaned up the sides of the bowl with a flat kitchen tool and started stirring with a little more vigor.
“Even divorce matcha cream shouldn’t go to waste — it was dinner.” What a tragedy it would have been, to just stare at it. “Good choice. I think you’ll play well.”
Zaizen meant that while Kirihara would play well regardless, having someone that important by his side might enhance an already good game.
“Yeah, but, like you said. Divorce chocolate. It worked, right?” Akaya said, putting his forearms on the counter and leaning his head on them to watch the pancake mixing. “And thanks, I think so too. I’m only worried about him arguing with my coach again.”
He decided to not comment on a single small box of chocolate being Zaizen’s dinner. He would’ve been too angry at the time to care, and starting now would just be silly. Watching Zaizen finish up the batter, Akaya was reminded on something.
“Hey, did you end up fixing my apron? You ain’t wearing one, hypocrite.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Zaizen’s un-aproned torso with its vulnerable-to-batter shirt.
As a final measure to make sure no batter went to waste, Zaizen wiped the spatula over the whisk. “Yes, yes, our curry marriage has been fully dissolved with matcha cream. You’re welcome, ex-wife.”
A sideways smirk accompanied that light jab, but even more promising was the bit of butter that Zaizen warmed on the pan.
“I fixed your apron, but do I really need to wear it when I’m a hundred times neater than you?”
Akaya falsely heaved a heavy sigh of relief, waving one hand in the air dramatically. “Ahh, at least you can’t accuse me of cheating on you any more.”
The sound of frying was music to Akaya’s ears - he was pretty hungry at this point. The commute to Mikiya wasn’t particularly short, and Akaya had been run down with a lot of tennis the past week, so his appetite was ready for a whole lot of pancakes.
“Aw, whatever, it’s the principle of it, yanno?” Akaya whined. “Can I go get it in a minute anyway?”
The batter came perfectly smooth and, while the butter sizzled, Zaizen took out a container of perfectly sliced banana and added it to the mix. To be mindful of Kirihara’s diet, he kept the ingredients as healthy as he could afford.
“True -- I’ll just have to be more creative with my wild accusations,” Zaizen drawled flatly, prodding a bit at Kirihara with the clean end of the spatula after mixing in the banana. “You can go get it now. I don’t trust you not to try and eat something too hot off the stove anyway. Key card is in my phone case.” He tilted his head to where the phone rested safely on the countertop.
Ineffectually batting away the utensil poking, Akaya watched the pancakes begin to bubble and breathed in the sweet smell of cooking banana and sugar. This was going to be a good morning after four days of hard work and sulking.
Swinging himself off the stool at the instruction, the phone case was looted for the key card and Akaya tapped it on Zaizen’s head briefly. “Thaaank-you,” he drawled, leaving for the stairs, but not before sneaking a stray slice of banana into his mouth.
Zaizen glared like a flat-eared cat. He couldn’t even fix his hair while cooking, lest he accidentally brush a stray strand into the batter.
He would have told Akaya to not go through his shit but, well, there seemed like very little point. “Just don’t touch my guitars!” he called, as the tennis player gamboled up the steps.
Zaizen’s room was always neat, or as neat as it could be when it was so crammed with stuff. Akaya knew Zaizen owned too many things to be entirely comfortable in this relatively small place, but he was too stubborn to reduce the clutter and too poor to upgrade, so it was kind of a stuck situation.
The desk seemed like the most reasonable place for the apron to end up, so that was where Akaya started. It wasn’t on top of the table, so naturally the logical thing was to go through the desk-side drawers.
The suspiciously plain-looking bag in the second drawer down catches his eye immediately. Zaizen had only specified to not mess with his guitars, so technically he was still within the assigned limits. Upending the bag into his hands, Akaya stared at the item with confusion, followed rapidly by understanding and then something sly and conniving.
Hiding the newly-obtained item in his jacket, Akaya spotted the actual apron sitting in a loosely-open bag nearer to the door. Scooping it up, he flitted back downstairs, trying to look as innocent as possible.
Judging by the look on Kirihara’s face, the devilish guy had rifled through at least seventy percent of his shit. Expected. In the elapsed time, Zaizen had managed to fry up two perfect pancakes and set another two on the well primed pan for a second batch. “I love the smell of poison in the morning,” he drawled. “Don’t you?”
And his shirt was still pristine. Apron completely unnecessary.
In fairness, it had only been about twenty-five percent of Zaizen’s shit. It had just been rewarding.
The pancakes smelled absolutely divine and looked a pretty picture, too. Akaya practically swooped on them like a bird of prey, apron bag and all, nabbing the first plate and settling into one of the kitchen chairs just outside the cooking area.
“Legendary Zaizen pancakes,” he said almost reverently. “I doubted their existence for many years, and yet they’re right here in front of me now.”
The eagerness was sort of cute. Kind of. Like a video of a raccoon stealing a candy bar from a convenience store.
“Congratulations. After seven years of bullshit, you’ve unlocked the pancakes side-quest,” Zaizen gestured his arm out, vaguely simulating a rainbow. “At least add whipped cream, strawberries, and syrup like a civilized person.”
“What level does this put me at now?” Akaya questioned jokingly, getting back up to grab the toppings that had been suggested.
Before adding anything, though, he cut away a plain piece to try the pancakes on their own. Of course, they were perfect - Akaya practically melted on the spot. Getting to work proportioning the toppings, he grinned slyly at Zaizen.
“Maybe I should get mad at you more often if this is what I get out of it.”
As he prodded his way around the pancakes to ensure the perfect amount of slide, Zaizen said, “I’m a dungeon with no map. Explore at your own peril.”
Zaizen saw that Akaya liked what he ate and decided to accompany breakfast with a little show. The pan tilted forward by his hand and -- with an added flick of the wrist -- had the pancakes soaring in a beautiful arc and landing uncooked side down into the cradle of butter and heat. Smirking right back at Kirihara, he said, “Don’t expect to find the same treasure in the room you just raided.”
Not to mention that Zaizen would probably see that ploy coming from a mile away.
Akaya raised an eyebrow at Zaizen’s display of pan acrobatics. “Show-off,” he muttered, trying his very best to not look impressed (he was).
Focusing his attention back to the food at hand, Akaya savoured the pancakes and fruit with careful and slow bites, much unlike his usual habit of eating as quickly as he could. Almost done with the first short stack, he remembered the item he had pilfered from Zaizen’s deskside drawer.
Leaving the last little bit of breakfast on his plate, Akaya got up and walked over under the guise of checking on the cooking.
Zaizen huffed lightly, but otherwise didn’t respond to that comment. Kirihara had no right to call him a show-off after those tennis matches a little more than a week before. His breakfast guest’s approach didn’t draw any wariness, as Zaizen simply assumed he was coming up to either receive another pancake or get a better eta for its arrival to his gut.
Judging by the way he still had to nudge the spatula under the cooking pancake to keep it from sticking, it would need another minute or so.
Not wanting the pancakes to burn (what a waste), a few moments of some possibly-suspicious shuffling followed Akaya’s approach. He inspected the ingredients left over, keeping an eye on Zaizen’s progress on the current pancake. As soon as the pan left the heat, though…
Akaya sprung, deftly removing the cat ears from his sleeve and sliding them into Zaizen’s hair in a single smooth movement, muffled cackling following the successful adornment.
Zaizen parted his lips to comment on Akaya’s high level pining when the swift tennis player instigated full-on torment. He startled and removed the offensive object from his head.
Cat ears. So this was what Akaya had looked so smug about. “My hair,” he complained, glaring at hysteric Akaya as he fixed up his fringe. To ward Akaya off approaching again, Zaizen said, “I can launch the next ones into the air, you know. Horrible waste of food.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Akaya said warily. “Not when you paid for some of this.”
Nevertheless, Akaya snuck close enough to steal the ears out of Zaizen’s hands again, flicking the headband around his wrist in a show of something like dexterity. There was no way he was going to let Zaizen get away with only that amount of cat-eared experience, but the thread of food had warded him away from attempting again just yet.
And the prize was gone from his hands. Zaizen’s eyes narrowed on Kirihara as he contemplated his words and the associated sacrifice.
The things one did for dignity.
He scooped one of his completed pancakes on the spatula and brought it a bit back, threatening to catapult if Kirihara tried anything that his skillful taunting suggested that he might. They were at impasse; he stepped away from the stove, for the sake of safety and to get better access to the whipped cream can and the rest of the room. “Try it. Go ahead.”
The offensive stance that Zaizen took made Akaya pause, ears in one hand. His shoulders squared defensively. There was no way he was going to let that top quality foodstuff get ruined, but also no way he was going to concede to Zaizen and miss the chance to make the most use of the item he’d managed to get back.
Calculations had never been a strong point, but he was still a tennis player. Trajectory, he could estimate. With that in mind, as well as Zaizen’s own cunning abilities, Akaya made his choice. With a wicked grin, he lunged forward.
“Don’t test me-!”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
From this point on, feel free to have your characters wander in and question the nonsense that is occurring in this very public kitchen. They can be visiting, passing on by, or just wanting to get their own damn breakfast but this pair of ridiculous children block their safe passage.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 01:26 pm (UTC)Zaizen stared down the dangerously grinning Kirihara; a tumbleweed would not have been out of place between the wannabe musician and the professional athlete.
After doing a few visualizations of his own, Zaizen decided that there was only one way to save himself from certain furry: he simply tipped the extended spatula, sending the pancake dropping quick at gravity's mercy.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 01:39 pm (UTC)His lunge turned into a diving slide, the linoleum floor working blissfully in his favour - the lack of traction gave him just enough momentum to propel him right into the falling pancake's path.
It landed with a smack right on Akaya's face. Working his jaw, he managed to snag one end in his teeth, flipping the hot thing off of his nose and into his mouth.
"Ow," he said, voice muffled through his gritted teeth.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 01:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 01:59 pm (UTC)"You monster," he wheezed, trying to catch his breath.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 02:13 pm (UTC)Zaizen occupied the seat across from Kirihara and shook the whipped cream can over his own plate with a ominous smirk. "That's what happens when you fight me off the court."
no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 10:52 pm (UTC)Pouting ineffectually, Akaya glowered across the table, picking and the almost-floor pancake. "You are so lucky I can move that fast."
no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 11:01 pm (UTC)The cat ears sat next to his plate like a dare.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-03 02:41 pm (UTC)All but ready to grab the ears and attempt to jam them into Zaizen's hair with a warcry of "Trust this!", Akaya is torn away from his mental preparedness by the presence of someone else entering the kitchen.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-03 09:10 am (UTC)Reaching into the paper bag containing his new purchases he felt along the books until his fingers encountered a innocuous foil wrapped item. Drawing it out he gave the hapless mint an unhappy look, holding it gingerly as he made his way to the door and then outside, heading toward the commotion.
“Good Morning.” He politely greeted Kirihara and Zaizen with a small nod. Then, skirting deftly around the apparent battleground he approached the counter, hesitating for a moment upon reaching the trash.
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Date: 2018-03-03 12:28 pm (UTC)"Good morning, Tezuka-san," Zaizen said, touching the headband thoughtfully as Seigaku's former captain entered the room. "Akaya got a new tennis headband from a sponsor, but he doesn't like it. Would you like to try it on?"
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Date: 2018-03-03 02:57 pm (UTC)Clearing his throat, Akaya kept his face as neutral as possible. "Mornin', Tezuka-san," he began with a nod. "Yeah, this headband doesn't really suit me, but it might work on you."
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Date: 2018-03-03 10:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-03 10:28 pm (UTC)Zaizen flicked his eyes to Akaya, seeming to direct that last remark at his cowardice.
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Date: 2018-03-04 04:28 am (UTC)One hand reached as sneakily as possible into his pocket, swiping his phone on and over to the camera with practiced movement.
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Date: 2018-03-04 06:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-04 12:19 pm (UTC)Breaking into laughter, Zaizen attempted to cover his face but with Kirihara looking the way he did, he soon succumbed to racuous giggles that filled the entire room. His shoulders shook and his face hurt. Only when high, breathless hiccups started punctuating his laugh-fit did he put his face down on the table and tap out completely.
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Date: 2018-03-04 01:27 pm (UTC)As Zaizen's dying laughter echoed in his ears, Akaya found himself breathing deeply, hands clenching and unclenching as the cogs in his brain finally fired up again. The first, instinctive wave of violent fury was quickly placated and manipulated into the low burn of anger he had become more accustomed to over the years, mixed with a little bit of something almost... impressed.
"Tezuka-san," he said, voice seeped in cold faux-sweetness, "If you're interested in that too, maybe it could be used more effectively? Maybe as a necktie, or... a noose?"
Under the table, he gave Zaizen a sharp kick to the shin. "Judging by how much fun Hikaru seems to be having, seems maybe he'd be interested, too."
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Date: 2018-03-04 01:40 pm (UTC)"I fear I must decline. After all Kikumaru would be devastated if we both stole his trademark look." He nodded to both parties. "Now, Kirihara, Zaizen. I wont disturb your breakfast any further." He bade them farewell, leaving with unhurried poise.
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Date: 2018-03-04 01:53 pm (UTC)Noose or not, it was looking like Zaizen Hikaru would be no more.
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Date: 2018-03-04 02:06 pm (UTC)After a solid few minutes of recovery time, Akaya remained partly on autopilot. Picking up the ears from the table, he slid them almost delicately into Zaizen's hair, before taking the other boy's plate and absently eating the remainder of his breakfast.
"If you die, I'm burning all your guitars," he murmured a short time later, the food having jump-started his functionality.
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Date: 2018-03-04 02:24 pm (UTC)"Fuck you..."
Then he hiccuped violently enough to jostle the ribbon-decorated ears to the side, such that the little bells rang to harken defeat.
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Date: 2018-03-04 02:34 pm (UTC)At least now he had a first-hand understanding of why Sanada despised Tezuka so much.
"I'm kidding, that'd be a damn waste," Akaya amended, offering absolutely no assistance to help alleviate Zaizen's helpless state. "I'd bury them with you like you'd want."
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Date: 2018-03-04 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-04 02:58 pm (UTC)Letting out a long breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding, Akaya leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. His phone was held to his chest as if it was anchoring him. "I feel like I now understand both so much more and so, so much less about this world."
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Date: 2018-03-04 03:22 pm (UTC)"Pancakes and Socrates, you're welcome for the level up in wisdom," Zaizen finally straightened up again, still wearing the lopsided cat ears as he massaged his jaw. "God, my face hurts."