Prince of Tennis: Ibu Shinji, 059: Food
Title: American as Apple Pie
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Ibu Shinji, Kevin Smith
Prompt: 059: Food
Word Count: 443
Rating: G
Summary: Shinji encounters a completely new food.
Author's Notes: Any speech in Japanese is underlined. Any other speech can be assumed to be in English.
This follows It’s a Small World.
Main table can be found here and here.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Shinji poked at the mass on his plate. It was bright yellow (unnaturally so, in his mind), a bit gluey in texture, and, at the same time runny. It was nothing like he’d seen before, and, despite his roommate’s statement otherwise, and its presence in the dining hall, Shinji was not at all sure this…stuff was supposed to be ingested. At a total loss, he looked at his roommate. “Ummm…what is this supposed to be?”
Kevin looked up from his own plate. “Macaroni and cheese,” he said matter-of-factly. “All American cuisine. Can’t get anything better from a box. Come on, Shinji, it’s going to get cold, and it’s not good cold.”
“It doesn’t look good now.” Shinji poked at it again. “It looks like it’s going to eat me in my sleep, or stage a hostile takeover from the inside out. How can you eat things like this?”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “This coming from someone who comes from a country that elevated eating raw fish into an art form. Seriously, Shinji.” Kevin ate a forkful of his own macaroni. “See? It’s not deadly.”
Shinji was still clearly skeptical. “He says it’s not deadly, but I’ve heard people can become immune to poisons if they ingest it in small doses over a long period of time, so that might be what happened to him, or maybe being American gives him special powers of immunity, but I’m sure this will kill me, and I don’t want to die yet, I’ve only been here for a week, and ‘Chiro will be very upset if I die, and then he’d have to come and kill Kevin, and he’d go to jail, and I don’t want that, though if I’m dead, I suppose it doesn’t matter what I want….”
Kevin has lost track of the rambling, muttered Japanese almost as soon as it began, and he didn’t even bother trying to follow it. Instead, he loaded up his fork, waited a moment, then stuffed it into Shinji’s mouth.
It had the desired effect. Shinji’s voice stopped as he focused on chewing and swallowing his mouthful almost meditatively.
“Well?” Kevin watched Shinji for any sign of reaction.
Shinji was quiet for a minute. “Well,” he said finally, “I’m not dead yet, anyway.”
“And you won’t die, I promise.” Kevin grinned. “Eat up, and then I’ll introduce you to something even better-apple pie!”
With a resigned sigh, Shinji started to eat his dinner, wondering in the back of his mind if it would be possible to find cup ramen somewhere. He had a feeling that emergency rations might come in handy at mealtimes now.
--The End--
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Ibu Shinji, Kevin Smith
Prompt: 059: Food
Word Count: 443
Rating: G
Summary: Shinji encounters a completely new food.
Author's Notes: Any speech in Japanese is underlined. Any other speech can be assumed to be in English.
This follows It’s a Small World.
Main table can be found here and here.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Shinji poked at the mass on his plate. It was bright yellow (unnaturally so, in his mind), a bit gluey in texture, and, at the same time runny. It was nothing like he’d seen before, and, despite his roommate’s statement otherwise, and its presence in the dining hall, Shinji was not at all sure this…stuff was supposed to be ingested. At a total loss, he looked at his roommate. “Ummm…what is this supposed to be?”
Kevin looked up from his own plate. “Macaroni and cheese,” he said matter-of-factly. “All American cuisine. Can’t get anything better from a box. Come on, Shinji, it’s going to get cold, and it’s not good cold.”
“It doesn’t look good now.” Shinji poked at it again. “It looks like it’s going to eat me in my sleep, or stage a hostile takeover from the inside out. How can you eat things like this?”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “This coming from someone who comes from a country that elevated eating raw fish into an art form. Seriously, Shinji.” Kevin ate a forkful of his own macaroni. “See? It’s not deadly.”
Shinji was still clearly skeptical. “He says it’s not deadly, but I’ve heard people can become immune to poisons if they ingest it in small doses over a long period of time, so that might be what happened to him, or maybe being American gives him special powers of immunity, but I’m sure this will kill me, and I don’t want to die yet, I’ve only been here for a week, and ‘Chiro will be very upset if I die, and then he’d have to come and kill Kevin, and he’d go to jail, and I don’t want that, though if I’m dead, I suppose it doesn’t matter what I want….”
Kevin has lost track of the rambling, muttered Japanese almost as soon as it began, and he didn’t even bother trying to follow it. Instead, he loaded up his fork, waited a moment, then stuffed it into Shinji’s mouth.
It had the desired effect. Shinji’s voice stopped as he focused on chewing and swallowing his mouthful almost meditatively.
“Well?” Kevin watched Shinji for any sign of reaction.
Shinji was quiet for a minute. “Well,” he said finally, “I’m not dead yet, anyway.”
“And you won’t die, I promise.” Kevin grinned. “Eat up, and then I’ll introduce you to something even better-apple pie!”
With a resigned sigh, Shinji started to eat his dinner, wondering in the back of his mind if it would be possible to find cup ramen somewhere. He had a feeling that emergency rations might come in handy at mealtimes now.
--The End--