Ichigo Dessert/Нихонго
Here's the promised fic. x-posted.
Title: いちごデザート（Ichigo Dessert）
Characters: BuriMyu actors
Warnings: none
Summary: Morieiji and Tacchan in 'dezaato okoku' where the former invited the latter one afternoon. A/n: huge thanks to apathymoon for an inspiring idea she gave me. I could't think of any plot for the fic 'ichigo dessert' but then everything clicked into place. The fic is based on a *pnish* video where guys have a cooking contest + my dream about Osamu-chan + Nagayan's vb entry about him being taken for a woman.
“Eiji-san, it's something i haven't done in years.”
“What? Eating yourself?” he smiled, noting the similarity between the dessert and his friend's character's name.
That was how a conversation between the two started. Isaka Tatsuya aka Kurosaki Ichigo preparing for a delicious treat, with a spoon in his hand, and Moriyama Eiji, already sending the second piece of strawberry cake into his mouth. The joke was not altogether to Tatsuya's liking, but he has developed enough patience to gulp the offence at something like this, and there were plenty of them, so many that he was afraid to start counting. His fellow actors tended to play practical jokes on him more often than at the others, so sometimes he'd sit and wonder why he and only he proved a sort of scapegoat, the mystery he attempted to reveal, in vain, so far. Tatsuya sat in a restaurant searching for answers simultaneously trying to get rid of this niggling worry while Eiji, studying him quizzically, asked himself what was going on on the boy's mind. Perhaps, he mused, he wasn't sure why he was invited to eat out all of a sudden, perhaps he even wanted to escape, or perhaps-
“Oh, here's the waiter,” Eiji spotted a lean figure walking towards their table. “Two more cakes, please. My friend is a strawberry maniac,” he suppressed a giggle.
“Eiji-san, I’m gonna get fa-“ Tatsuya’s jaw nearly dropped as he rose his eyes to take in the waiter, he blinked twice refusing to believe, but before he could utter a word, the waiter went away. “Wasn’t it… Wasn’t it… This guy is… Osamu-san?!”
The company looked suspiciously, as if saying, ‘Are you drunk, buddy?’ but stated nothing except,
“You’re seeing things.”
Confused, Tatsuya kept seeking the strange person in the crowd, his head bobbing from left to right. True, it must have been his imagination, someone who reminded him of Shuuji-san, and with a sigh, he calmed down, now shifting his gaze to the other one,
“Moriyama-san, why are we here? Why me of all people? You could’ve chosen Miki-san or… whoever really.”
“Don’t see why not. Because they make the best strawberry cakes here and because you’re Kurosaki Ichigo,” - there followed explanation, fair enough, yet there was a reason to add, Eiji zipped his lip, though.
The two waited patiently for their extra’s, when the younger decided to go use the bathroom and at the moment he went out, a girl in a kimono passed him by, entering the nearby women’s room. Something in her image seemed terribly familiar: height, posture, brief glimpse… He paused, with a frown… Her features: cute small face and a charming half-smile… His frown deepened as he strained memory in an attempt to place the person… Her eyes: chocolate brown color, an ever-present playful sparkle, tiny wrinkles when the corners of his lips twitched upwards- Eh? His lips? His! It’s him! Nagayama Takashi-san! Wearing girl’s kimono?! The boy felt giddy all at once. He could swear he’d just seen his male friend disappear behind the women’s room door. What was he doing there in such an outfit? Things went out of control. He guessed there was something wrong with the restaurant. Either that, or he’d better call on psychiatrist more often. Not that he was burning with desire to cross the threshold of the room which had a ‘Girls’ sign on it, yet Tatsuya burned to know, eager to take a glance at the “cross dresser”. Hmm, the verb ‘burn’ was used in both variants, but no, he wouldn’t want to burn with shame afterwards or worse, burn in hell as a punishment for sin. Too much of ‘burn’ in his head.
‘Because it is burning hot in here!’ exasperated, he hurriedly returned to his mate who was picking up last crumbs from the chine saucer - the dessert appeared to Eiji’s taste, definitely.
“Why so red?” inquired the chewing man, to whom the blushing partner replied,
“My goodness, I didn’t know Nagayama-san was making some money on the side… as geisha,” he straightened his tousled hair.
A skeptical and relaxed look that nevertheless measured Tatsuya, a raised eyebrow and a tilt of his head, yet-noticeable, - Moriyama’s usual behavior when he was checking if his interlocutor was sane or his elevator didn't go to the top floor and apparently, that was the latter case.
“Better eat,” he wiped his mouth with a napkin, still examining the guy for any indications of dementia. “Something gotta be done with you.”
By this time poor Ichigo actor had gone pale, a pathetic sight, indeed. When finished with the cake, although against the collar, he was about to get up, however, a white-clad man came up to stand near them, hands pressed hard against the tabletop.
His high cap and a yellow tie notified that he was a cook, but his face notified that it was high time for Tatsuya to go off in a swoon. Right in front of him, looming, grinning, stood no other than Tuti, Tsuchiya Yuuichi, the man he respected yet who now turned to be the last straw to break the camel's back. From deadly pale he became light blue, dark suntan doing little to change things. After a swallow, he stared at Eiji who presented him with an ‘I-don’t-understand-what’s-wrong-have-you-seen-a-ghost?‘ look, kindly thanking the white-uniformed man for most delicious dishes. In all probability, the boy was seeing a ghost at the moment, this ghost being Tuti dressed up as a chef.
Pounding temples along with dizziness forced the sick guy out of the place, Moriyama catching up.
“The food… must have been poisoned… or something,” the first inhaled.
“Yeah… or something,” mumbled the other.
“Next time it’s gonna be pineapple desert. My treat.”
Eiji chuckled taking the office, quickly turning around to see three men at the restaurant’s door, rolling with laughter.
***
“Gee, our Ichigo nearly fainted. You saw his pallor, didn’t you?” asked the cook, already crying.
“’Course, Tsucchi, you are a brilliant actor, poor Tatsuya thought there was something with him, that he was dreaming. And Nagayama-san should get promotion for his part,” added the waiter.
“You should see his shock when he spotted me in this kimono,” squeezed out the third hero, squirming with laughter. “Eiji was marvelous. He didn’t give us away. A real pro. Good job, guys!”
“Oh, Tatsuya, that is why we like gibing at you so much. You’re so easy to deceive and so mistrustful.”
Не знаю помните ли вы школьн. уроки ин. языка как помню их я. С дрожью и отвращением вспоминаю тему "Время. часы" по англ. языку - потому что туго соображала, как строить предложения. Один только вид нашей учительницы с пластмассовой дощечкой-часами вызывал желание провалиться/сбежать. "Давайте повторим время," - и она начинала передвигать стрелки, а мы по цепочке говорили фразы. Страшно не любила 5й класс из-за этих часов. Но, к счастью, пытка с инглишем закончилась... только чтобы через несколько лет повториться: та же тема во французском, те же часы в немецком - та же боязнь и тормознутость. И вот я снова виз-а-ви с этой темой в японском. От картинок с циферблатами трясет, но, слава богу, в яп. есть схожести с русским в построении предложений и вопросов о времени. В некот. моментах нихонго даже проще других языков: например, при назывании дат - год, месяц, число.
Кто-н. смотрел "Пенелопу" с Кристиной Риччи? Обожаю такие тим-бартоновские сказки, да и сама актриса мне нравится. Какая радость увидеть по тв что-н. отличное от розовых соплей вперемежку с матом и пошлятиной типа "Блондинки в шоколаде".