Fanfic :: Cafe Kichijouji :: Murphy's Law, Chapter 3/3 (Finished!)
Okay, so I have no real excuse for why this is late. I dunno, I guess I just didn't want to end it. XP
Title: Murphy's Law
Series: Cafe Kichijouji de (At Cafe Kichijouji)
Character(s)/Pairings: Jun, Maki, Minagawa, Tarou, Tokumi, the Boss
Rating: G
Summary: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. - Murphy's Law
Murphy's Law
Chapter Three
Miraculously, the next two days went by without any new calamities. Toku and Maki were still down with what was indeed the flu, and without them the Café seemed much quieter. If he were really honest with himself, Tarou would admit that he kind of missed the noise; it kept things interesting, at least. But he would lock himself in Maki’s room for an hour before he admitted that.
Sadly, neither Tarou nor the Boss were in the mood to enjoy the peacefulness, burdened as they were with the terrible knowledge that they were pretty much doomed. But while the latter seemed wearily resigned to his fate, Tarou had resolved to go down fighting-which simply meant that his normal paranoia increased twofold. Twice a day he dosed himself with every vitamin supplement he had, and he was essentially living on fruits, vegetables, and purified water. The backs of his hands were red and cracked after washing them in-between every order for two days, and he was starting to grow seriously concerned that the skin might literally be scrubbed off. Then he decided that he could live with such a sacrifice if it meant he didn’t get sick.
Jun and Minagawa, of course, remained obnoxiously unbothered by the whole thing. Tarou was absolutely positive that the two must be indestructible or something. After all, Jun had helped Toku get Maki home when he’d first gotten sick, and therefore should have been showing symptoms at the same time Toku had. Instead, the teenager had yet to do so much as sniffle. He seemed as good-humored as ever, too, although he did remark that it was kind of boring without the entertainment of watching Toku and Maki’s unfailing acts of stupidity and subsequent beatings. Tarou had no reply to that.
Minagawa was perhaps a bit more creepy than usual, which made Tarou half-jokingly wonder if he was somehow behind it all. Maybe he was punishing Maki and Toku for pilfering supplies again. He had almost worked up the nerve to ask Minagawa about it straight out, but the smile the chef had turned his way had been positively sinister and sent him backpedaling hurriedly. Finding out the truth wasn’t worth bringing punishment upon himself, if Minagawa really was the cause of the situation. Better to be safe than sorry.
So things continued peacefully-if warily-until the inevitable finally happened, and the Boss was suddenly beset with a sneezing fit while he checked out a customer. Tarou, serving as a floor waiter in Maki’s place, heard it from where he stood, across the room taking someone’s order. He froze briefly, then finished taking the order and excused himself with a cheery smile. He walked very calmly and deliberately back to the Boss’s office, where he had retreated to blow his nose. Tarou stood in the doorway, feeling strangely unalarmed.
“Shall I close the Café?” he inquired mildly. He noticed then that a headache was building right above his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.
The Boss groaned, tossing the tissue into the trash can and leaning back in his chair. He started to speak, was interrupted by an explosive round of sneezes, and tried again afterwards. “I don’t think we have a choice,” he said resignedly, dabbing at his nose with another tissue. “Even if I left you in charge it would be too much for just the three of you to handle.” He sighed. “Go ahead, Tarou. Better close up shop, and give us a week, just to be safe.”
Tarou echoed his sigh and nodded, turning unenthusiastically to the task of shooing everyone out and explaining things. After the door had closed behind the last customer, Tarou flipped the OPEN sign over to CLOSED and left a note below it explaining that the Café would remain so until approximately a week from today due to-he was strongly tempted to write “plague,” but resisted in favor of the milder “illness.” Task done, he straightened up and wearily assigned Jun to clearing the tables and stacking the chairs while he leaned his back against the counter, rubbing at the persistent ache across his forehead and absently clearing a dry throat.
To distract himself, Tarou mused on how much he could legally take out of Maki’s pay for this. It was only right, he reasoned, since it was entirely Maki’s fault that the Café would be closed and thereby lose seven days’ worth of money. He would have to speak to the Boss about this…
“Tarou-san,” Jun called from across the room, “where do you want - ah, Maki-san!”
Tarou was brought out of his thoughts abruptly, and he looked up to find the object of them breezing in from the kitchen. His hair was washed and pulled back in his usual artfully messy ponytail, his face had regained all of its color, and he was grinning in a way that Tarou thought seemed immensely self-satisfied. It was obviously unnecessary to ask if he felt better.
“Ossu!” he said cheerily, glancing around to include even Tarou in the greeting. “Did everyone miss me?” Minagawa chose that moment to materialize soundlessly beside Tarou and both he and Maki jumped. But apparently Maki’s high spirits could not be shaken even by the chef’s sudden appearance. “Yo, Minagawa. You look… healthy.”
“Welcome back, Maki-chan,” Minagawa returned, smiling a little less eerily and a little more warmly than was his wont. “So do you.”
“Aa, completely cured!” Maki laughed. “And I didn’t even have to go to the doctor. I guess my immune system’s pretty tough.” He scratched the back of his head and sighed. “Man, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s good to be back.”
There was no doubting Maki’s sincerity, and Tarou might have been touched had not the dryness of his throat begun to show signs of turning horrifically painful. The headache had not abated, either, and he recognized it now as the pressure headache caused by blocked sinuses. He straightened up, stepping away from the counter slowly. “Maki…” he began, but was cut off the next second by a coughing fit that came out of nowhere and doubled him over.
And it hurt! Forget beginning to show signs of turning horrifically painful, his throat felt like it was on fire. When he could breathe again, he looked up through watering eyes to see Maki, Jun and Minagawa staring at him. The chef was smiling. “Oh my, Tarou-chan,” he said smoothly. “That sounded terrible.”
“Are you okay, Tarou-san?” asked Jun, actually looking mildly concerned. “You look a little pale.”
“That’s not good, Tarou-chan. Have you been eating properly? You should be taking better care of yourself when there are so many germs around, you know. Ne, Jun?”
“That’s right, you have to be extra careful. Maybe you haven’t been eating enough fruits and vegetables?”
Tarou felt the sudden urge to cry. And then Maki opened his mouth. “Wow, Tarou,” he said with a grin that was not at all sympathetic. “So the god of disinfectants and handsoap can get sick just as easily as the rest of us mortals, huh? Serves you right for not being nicer to me when I was-AGH!”
Tarou was grimly pleased to find that the flu did not seem to impair his ability to beat Maki senseless; it was a happy coincidence that there was a tray on the counter right behind him. He preferred his mop when given the choice, but a tray did just as well in a pinch. It made the most satisfying clang when it connected with Maki’s head, too.
Jun and Minagawa exchanged a glance as they prudently stepped back to give Tarou enough room; they hadn’t seen him quite this homicidal in a while. The teenager frowned. “It really isn’t good for Tarou-san to be exerting himself like this,” he remarked as another clang was followed by a howl of pain. “He’s going to give himself a fever.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Minagawa winked and pulled out two of his straw dolls. “Now, now,” he raised his voice over the noise, “play nice, children.”
Sheltering in his office, the Boss steadfastly ignored the crashes and yelps of pain-interspersed with coughing and sneezing-from outside. Eventually his employees would remember that the Café was closed and they could all go home now. He hoped. With a grimace, he blew his nose and rubbed at the headache above his eyes.
A particularly loud thump was followed at last by dead silence. Then he heard Jun’s bland voice. “Ah, I think they both passed out.”
The Boss sighed and wondered if it would be legal not to pay Maki at all this month.
:: owari ::
So there you have it. The last chapter was rather shorter than I'd wanted, but once again there didn't seem much point in stretching it out unnecessarily. :\ Thank you to those who reviewed and enjoyed it! Hopefully I'll be writing more Cafe K fic in the near future. :3
Title: Murphy's Law
Series: Cafe Kichijouji de (At Cafe Kichijouji)
Character(s)/Pairings: Jun, Maki, Minagawa, Tarou, Tokumi, the Boss
Rating: G
Summary: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. - Murphy's Law
Murphy's Law
Chapter Three
Miraculously, the next two days went by without any new calamities. Toku and Maki were still down with what was indeed the flu, and without them the Café seemed much quieter. If he were really honest with himself, Tarou would admit that he kind of missed the noise; it kept things interesting, at least. But he would lock himself in Maki’s room for an hour before he admitted that.
Sadly, neither Tarou nor the Boss were in the mood to enjoy the peacefulness, burdened as they were with the terrible knowledge that they were pretty much doomed. But while the latter seemed wearily resigned to his fate, Tarou had resolved to go down fighting-which simply meant that his normal paranoia increased twofold. Twice a day he dosed himself with every vitamin supplement he had, and he was essentially living on fruits, vegetables, and purified water. The backs of his hands were red and cracked after washing them in-between every order for two days, and he was starting to grow seriously concerned that the skin might literally be scrubbed off. Then he decided that he could live with such a sacrifice if it meant he didn’t get sick.
Jun and Minagawa, of course, remained obnoxiously unbothered by the whole thing. Tarou was absolutely positive that the two must be indestructible or something. After all, Jun had helped Toku get Maki home when he’d first gotten sick, and therefore should have been showing symptoms at the same time Toku had. Instead, the teenager had yet to do so much as sniffle. He seemed as good-humored as ever, too, although he did remark that it was kind of boring without the entertainment of watching Toku and Maki’s unfailing acts of stupidity and subsequent beatings. Tarou had no reply to that.
Minagawa was perhaps a bit more creepy than usual, which made Tarou half-jokingly wonder if he was somehow behind it all. Maybe he was punishing Maki and Toku for pilfering supplies again. He had almost worked up the nerve to ask Minagawa about it straight out, but the smile the chef had turned his way had been positively sinister and sent him backpedaling hurriedly. Finding out the truth wasn’t worth bringing punishment upon himself, if Minagawa really was the cause of the situation. Better to be safe than sorry.
So things continued peacefully-if warily-until the inevitable finally happened, and the Boss was suddenly beset with a sneezing fit while he checked out a customer. Tarou, serving as a floor waiter in Maki’s place, heard it from where he stood, across the room taking someone’s order. He froze briefly, then finished taking the order and excused himself with a cheery smile. He walked very calmly and deliberately back to the Boss’s office, where he had retreated to blow his nose. Tarou stood in the doorway, feeling strangely unalarmed.
“Shall I close the Café?” he inquired mildly. He noticed then that a headache was building right above his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.
The Boss groaned, tossing the tissue into the trash can and leaning back in his chair. He started to speak, was interrupted by an explosive round of sneezes, and tried again afterwards. “I don’t think we have a choice,” he said resignedly, dabbing at his nose with another tissue. “Even if I left you in charge it would be too much for just the three of you to handle.” He sighed. “Go ahead, Tarou. Better close up shop, and give us a week, just to be safe.”
Tarou echoed his sigh and nodded, turning unenthusiastically to the task of shooing everyone out and explaining things. After the door had closed behind the last customer, Tarou flipped the OPEN sign over to CLOSED and left a note below it explaining that the Café would remain so until approximately a week from today due to-he was strongly tempted to write “plague,” but resisted in favor of the milder “illness.” Task done, he straightened up and wearily assigned Jun to clearing the tables and stacking the chairs while he leaned his back against the counter, rubbing at the persistent ache across his forehead and absently clearing a dry throat.
To distract himself, Tarou mused on how much he could legally take out of Maki’s pay for this. It was only right, he reasoned, since it was entirely Maki’s fault that the Café would be closed and thereby lose seven days’ worth of money. He would have to speak to the Boss about this…
“Tarou-san,” Jun called from across the room, “where do you want - ah, Maki-san!”
Tarou was brought out of his thoughts abruptly, and he looked up to find the object of them breezing in from the kitchen. His hair was washed and pulled back in his usual artfully messy ponytail, his face had regained all of its color, and he was grinning in a way that Tarou thought seemed immensely self-satisfied. It was obviously unnecessary to ask if he felt better.
“Ossu!” he said cheerily, glancing around to include even Tarou in the greeting. “Did everyone miss me?” Minagawa chose that moment to materialize soundlessly beside Tarou and both he and Maki jumped. But apparently Maki’s high spirits could not be shaken even by the chef’s sudden appearance. “Yo, Minagawa. You look… healthy.”
“Welcome back, Maki-chan,” Minagawa returned, smiling a little less eerily and a little more warmly than was his wont. “So do you.”
“Aa, completely cured!” Maki laughed. “And I didn’t even have to go to the doctor. I guess my immune system’s pretty tough.” He scratched the back of his head and sighed. “Man, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s good to be back.”
There was no doubting Maki’s sincerity, and Tarou might have been touched had not the dryness of his throat begun to show signs of turning horrifically painful. The headache had not abated, either, and he recognized it now as the pressure headache caused by blocked sinuses. He straightened up, stepping away from the counter slowly. “Maki…” he began, but was cut off the next second by a coughing fit that came out of nowhere and doubled him over.
And it hurt! Forget beginning to show signs of turning horrifically painful, his throat felt like it was on fire. When he could breathe again, he looked up through watering eyes to see Maki, Jun and Minagawa staring at him. The chef was smiling. “Oh my, Tarou-chan,” he said smoothly. “That sounded terrible.”
“Are you okay, Tarou-san?” asked Jun, actually looking mildly concerned. “You look a little pale.”
“That’s not good, Tarou-chan. Have you been eating properly? You should be taking better care of yourself when there are so many germs around, you know. Ne, Jun?”
“That’s right, you have to be extra careful. Maybe you haven’t been eating enough fruits and vegetables?”
Tarou felt the sudden urge to cry. And then Maki opened his mouth. “Wow, Tarou,” he said with a grin that was not at all sympathetic. “So the god of disinfectants and handsoap can get sick just as easily as the rest of us mortals, huh? Serves you right for not being nicer to me when I was-AGH!”
Tarou was grimly pleased to find that the flu did not seem to impair his ability to beat Maki senseless; it was a happy coincidence that there was a tray on the counter right behind him. He preferred his mop when given the choice, but a tray did just as well in a pinch. It made the most satisfying clang when it connected with Maki’s head, too.
Jun and Minagawa exchanged a glance as they prudently stepped back to give Tarou enough room; they hadn’t seen him quite this homicidal in a while. The teenager frowned. “It really isn’t good for Tarou-san to be exerting himself like this,” he remarked as another clang was followed by a howl of pain. “He’s going to give himself a fever.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Minagawa winked and pulled out two of his straw dolls. “Now, now,” he raised his voice over the noise, “play nice, children.”
Sheltering in his office, the Boss steadfastly ignored the crashes and yelps of pain-interspersed with coughing and sneezing-from outside. Eventually his employees would remember that the Café was closed and they could all go home now. He hoped. With a grimace, he blew his nose and rubbed at the headache above his eyes.
A particularly loud thump was followed at last by dead silence. Then he heard Jun’s bland voice. “Ah, I think they both passed out.”
The Boss sighed and wondered if it would be legal not to pay Maki at all this month.
:: owari ::
So there you have it. The last chapter was rather shorter than I'd wanted, but once again there didn't seem much point in stretching it out unnecessarily. :\ Thank you to those who reviewed and enjoyed it! Hopefully I'll be writing more Cafe K fic in the near future. :3