Summary: Western History takes on a whole new meaning, especially when a hormonal tennis team butchers it (Hyotei-centric, utter crack)
Pairings: Atobe/Jirou, Mukahi/Oshitari, Suggested Shishido/Ohtori
Warning: History butchering. May contain tidbits of random historical facts.
Disclaimer: PoT ish not mine… tho if it were… -malicious grin-
Thunder rumbled from the far reaches of the skies but went unheard behind the soundproof and bulletproof French doors that lined the mansion's walls. A fire crackled in the marble fireplace, surrounded by four junior high students pouring over their textbooks. Surrounding a table behind them, three more religiously studied their own. Another teenager was half lying in a chaise; hand in his hair in a Romanesque fashion, reminiscent of a reclining Dionysus inebriated in his party.
A student groaned, throwing his books down in frustration. One teenager in front of the fireplace straightened while another glared at a redhead hogging the warmth of the fire. "What is it now, Mukahi?"
"Lord Byron is so sexy. Why wasn't I born in the 18th century?" The redhead looked close to swooning.
"…Do you have anything important to say?" Atobe demanded, furiously flipping over a page of the textbook to cover up the picture of George Gordon Byron, otherwise known as the divine Lord Byron.
"Does he ever?" Shishido shot back.
"Shut up, Shishido, you're just jealous since the divine Lord Byron is so much hotter than you and Choutaro would screw the divine Lord Byron over you anyday, ne Choutaro?"
"Er… who's Lord Byron, Mukahi-senpai?"
"Who's Lord Byron? WHO'S LORD BYRON?" Mukahi turned a shade of red similar to his hair. He opened his mouth and almost all the students immediately put their hands to their ears.
"What is it now, Gakuto?"
"…Choutarou doesn't know who the glorious, magnificent, perfectly impeccable and divine Lord Byron is!"
"…Gakuto, you can't use perfectly as an adverb to impeccable. They both mean the same thing."
"I don't care! Choutaro fried my brain!"
"There wasn't much to fry." Shishido quipped.
"I don't appreciate your lip, Shishido."
"Deal with it."
Mukahi ignored Shishido for a moment and turned back to Oshitari, "YUUSHIIIII! Do something about it." He said in a perfectly impeccable whiny voice.
"…Why don't you explain the wonders of this divine Lord Byron, Mukahi?" A vein was visible in Oshitari's forehead and anyone with the IQ of a peanut would've know to back off from praising his divine Lord Byron, but sadly, Mukahi's IQ is …well… let's just say he's allergic to peanuts.
"…Fine! I will recite a poem by the gorgeously manly and divine Byron. It's called He walks in Beauty. He walks in beauty like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies and all that's best of dark and bright, meet in his aspect and his eyes."
"Er…Mukahi, it's SHE walks in beauty." Atobe now had a vein similar to Oshitari's on his forehead. After all, Lord Byron was one of Atobe's most respected poets and writers, right up there with Oscar Wilde and Boccaccio. "If you really liked Byron, I don't think you would butcher his poem like that…"
"He already butchered it by reading it." Shishido glared daggers at Mukahi's attempt to convert his beloved Ohtori into a Byron-maniac.
"Shut up! It makes me feel as if he's writing about me if I use He!" Mukahi protested, clutching his chest and feigning swooning in the most feminine annoying way. (And a thousand feminists died a little bit on the inside.)
"I'm just going to pretend you didn't just say that…" And with the force of will stronger than all of Seigaku's to avoid AOZU, Atobe did not call Kabaji on Mukahi. Instead, he continued reading, for the sixteenth time, the line on Voltaire, Rousseau and Hume's contributions to the Enlightenment.
Oshitari however, was emitting a strange blue-purple aura that made everything in this immediate bubble shrivel up and die. That was the reason Atobe and Shishido moved away from the tensai, whose sanity seemed to have left him with Mukahi's first outburst about the epitome of manliness that was the divine Lord Byron. Or was it even there to begin with?
Mukahi, of course, didn't notice this either. Barring that, he was just immune to it. Nobody could decipher Mukahi, and nobody really wanted to.
"Well, Lord Byron looks like this!" He opened his textbook to the correct page and showed the divine Lord Byron in all his glory to the teenaged boys. The page seemed to glow with the luminescent holiness that radiated off the visage of Lord Byron. It could almost be described as alabaster lit up from the inside.
Or at least in Mukahi's mind.
Ohtori blinked at it for a couple of moments, ostensibly to adjust his eyes to the radiant beams. "Well… he does look rather handsome…"
"Isn't he?" Mukahi swooned again, just in time for Shishido to rip the book from his hands and throw it on the floor.
Unfortunately, it fell to another literary analysis page. This time, it was the biography of Oscar Wilde. Beside it lay pictures pertaining to his trial. One of the pictures was labelled Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred "Bosie" Douglas. Need it say more?
Mukahi's attention immediately left the fact that Shishido did not worship the sacred goodness that was the divine Lord Byron to the fact that there was a picture of another English lord on the page.
And boy was he
"HOT!" Mukahi screamed, picking up the book. "Who's this sexy beast?"
"…Read the caption," Atobe was rubbing his temples now and could barely speak. It was just better to get it over with. "Kabaji, aspirin!"
"Lord Alfred Douglas, lover of Wilde… O.M.F.G. He's gay like me! We could like, do each other!"
Oshitari's aura had turned blood red and more little critters were dropping dead as the bubble expanded. He could be an exterminator, if anyone had the guts to hire him, really.
"…Yeah, you totally could… EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT HE'S BEEN DEAD FOR MORE THAN 50 YEARS." Shishido's sarcastic/angry rant had no effect on Mukahi however, who was probably already a certified necrophiliac.
"Our love transcends the constraints of time." Mukahi replied dreamily.
"…And your stupidity transcends the constraints of human evolution." Atobe now felt the need to point that out, in the most eloquent terms possible, all the while ODing on aspirin.
"Hey! I resent that buchou! I AM smart!"
"Let's get back to work." Ohtori suggested and everyone, minus of course Mukahi, seemed to take up on that suggestion.
Well, there was also Oshitari, who was still emitting a strange deathly aura that made little children cry. He was now 'getting back to work', reading his little evil tensai handbook, otherwise known as The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli. That alone should have scared anyone with any knowledge about European history, but of course many people chose to ignore it on account that Oshitari was taking a course on Renaissance history.
"Why you insist on reading the Japanese version of that book, Ore-sama'll never know. The Italian version is much more graceful." Atobe sighed, flipping a page of Rousseau's The Social Contract.
"Not everyone can read Italian like you, Atobe." Oshitari sighed, glancing over at the portrait of Jean-Jacques Rousseau on the book.
Shishido also looked over and paused, a small serpentine grin spreading across his face. "Hey Mukahi, don't you think Rousseau is handsome?"
It took Mukahi several moments to comprehend that statement before his gaze left that of the divine Lord Byron and the stunning Bosie. His eyes turned slowly, with all the drama of a trashy romance movie until it rested on the one and only Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
"Oh. My. God. Shishido, your taste is good for once."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Shishido demanded but his shout fell to deaf ears for Mukahi was already in the middle of wrestling the book from Atobe's clutches.
"Roussy! Rousseau! His pet name is Roussy-chan!"
"Ore-sama demands that you let go, Mukahi! Roussy- er, Rousseau is MINE!" And so ensued an epic battle over the gloriousness that was the French philosopher, Rousseau.
"Yadda! You can have Volty!"
"Can you NOT give dead guys affectionate nicknames?" Shishido was almost afraid to say.
"But it makes me feel closer to them…" Mukahi pouted a little.
"Atobe, isn't The Social Contract a little against your bourgeoisie class?" Oshitari asked, looking up viciously from his Prince, a sinister smile on his face.
"Ore-sama IS NOT bourgeois!" Atobe had the dexterity, due to years of tennis practise, to throw a textbook at Oshitari.
Of course Oshitari's evil aura caused it to boomerang back, missing Atobe'e head by inches. Atobe, however, didn't notice. He was too busy defending his rights to Rousseau.
The tug-o-war lasted about five minutes before Atobe's superior strength and dexterity kicked in. Of course, the fact that Kabaji just decided at that exact, precise moment to flash a picture of divine Lord Byron in front of Mukahi probably also weighed a factor. After all, beauty was distracting.
"Ore-sama, of course, wins." It was just as well that Rousseau went back to Atobe because Oshitari was regaining the murderous aura again. Of course, he was reading an essay by Machiavelli now. This essay, more infamous than famous, was called 'Description of the Methods Adopted by the Duke Valentino when MURDERING Vitellozzo Vitelli, Oliverotto da Fermo, the Signor Pagolo and the Duke di Gravina Orsini' otherwise known as The Duke Valentino, who just happened to be Oshitari's hero. The word murder had to be bolded and capitalized just to show what type of person Oshitari admires. Of course, that Duke Valentino, whose real name was Cesare Borgia (he was just called Valentino because that's how cool he is), was also the son of the pope, an immoral tyrant and the most handsome man of his day, but I digress. The situation Mukahi was in was not a good one. In fact, anyone with the intelligence of a concussed duckling would be running away screaming.
"Bah! I'm gonna go complain to Volty!" Mukahi did a half jump; half flip, and landed beside Hiyoshi, who jumped up and away from Mukahi. Who knows what diseases Mukahi has?
From the table, Mukahi stole Hiyoshi's copy of Voltaire's Candide that had a cynically smiling portrait of Voltaire on the cover. "Volty! Everyone's being mean to me!" He screamed into the book, hugging it to himself.
"Uhm, Mukahi-senpai, can you not molest my Candide?" It was all Hiyoshi asked… all he asked. Why couldn't Kami-sama just grant him that simple little wish?
"See! Everyone is! What do I do Volty? Oh don't look at me like that. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Don't worry. I won't use you to hit them. I love you way more than they do."
"A portrait, he's talking to a portrait." Atobe groaned, leaning back on his hair, "Minus the fact that said person has been dead for more than two hundred years… a portrait."
"Shut up, Volty will hear!" Mukahi protested. "It's okay Volty, he doesn't mean it. He just doesn't appreciate your genius."
"Volty…why do you hate Roussy? Is it because he's hotter than you? He is, isn't he? But don't worry Volty, I still love you. Atobe can stick with Roussy… he's probably cheating on him anyways. God Roussy, what a whore."
"Can we duct tape his mouth?"
"Ore-sama would say yes, but that would be a bad example of captainship."
"Letting us suffer through this is a bad example."
"Machy! Why are my friends so mean? You would've killed them, wouldn't you?" Mukahi continued, now spewing all his troubles on Machiavelli, who he has affectionately called Machy. Yes, he just called someone who admires murder by an affectionate nickname. Good thing Machiavelli's been dead for 500 years.
"…And you loved Cesare Borgia, didn't you? He's so hot and tyrannical and smart and everything. I love him too, along with Byron, Bosie and Roussy…" He continued, ignoring the glares people gave him, "of course I love Volty and you too…oh and Yuushi."
Oshitari Yuushi's flame was now turning an unhealthy green. It seldom turned that colour. This time it was perhaps because Oshitari was losing his boyfriend to men who've been long since dead. It didn't help that Mukahi considered them his best friends/psychologists/god-knows-what. In any case, Mukahi's position was looking worse and worse, and none of his friends could defend him now.
"Need I remind you again that the rights to Roussy are MINE?" Atobe was holding his framed portrait of Roussy closely. "and Bosie is mine too." It was more of a side note than anything, calculated specifically to piss of Mukahi.
"No! You already have Roussy. I won't abide you stealing Bosie from me!" Mukahi dove for his textbook, flipping it to the page with the stunning Bosie and hugging it close. "He's mine! MINE!"
"Please, you are too middle-class for Lord Alfred Douglas, son of the Marquis of Queensbury. He deserves a lord like ore-sama."
Shishido was really going to object. He really was going to. It would have been fun to burst their bubble and remind them that the lord they were now fighting over was dead but… he wasn't suicidal and perhaps he might reap Mukahi's death from this. Unless, of course he was going to be asked to dispose of the body… he just wasn't going to say anything.
"Oh come on, you just want Bosie because he reminds you of Dorian Gray and because he slept with Oscar Wilde. You don't love him for who he really is. I do." Mukahi retorted, "Bosie will see that."
Well, Oshitari was turning rainbow coloured at this point. Scarcely need it be said that it was an ill-disguised symbol of his sexuality, but he was rather mad and his gleanings from reading the Prince weren't helping the situation.
Where Oshitari got the burlap sack, nobody really knew. All they saw was that Mukahi was there one moment, loudly declaring his claim on Bosie and the next he was screaming muffled curses and incoherent complaints to Volty. It didn't help that he was also in Atobe's finely carved fountain, while rain poured around it.
"…" If there was a God, Shishido was praying to him, wishing that Mukahi would drown.
Atobe cuddled his Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Alfred Douglas portraits respectively, relishing in his victory.
And Jirou snored.
Glossary of People
Lord Byron: (1788-1824) George Gordon Noel Byron, one of the finest English poets in history. He was a leading figure in the Romantic moment. His sudden death in Greece for the national movement made him a Greek national hero. He was very handsome and women were said to swoon when he entered a room. Examples of his work are "She walks in beauty" and "don Juan"
Oscar Wilde:(1854-1900) British wit and playwright, one of the most prominent figures of the late 19th century. One of the last proponents of the aesthetic movement, Wilde was the lover of Lord Alfred Douglas (Bosie), he was imprisoned in 1895 partially due to Bosie's father, the Marques of Queensbury's accusations. Examples of his work are "The Picture of Dorian Gray" and "The Importance of Being Earnest"
Boccacio: (1313-1375) From Florence, Italy, he is a Renaissance humanist, writer and correspondent of Petrarch. His most notable work is the "Decameron".
Voltaire: (1694-1778) François-Marie Arouet. One of the most prominent Enlightenment philosophers, his work directly influenced both the American and the French revolutions. A notable satire of his was "Candide". He was a rival of Rousseau.
Lord Alfred Douglas: (1875-1945) Known to friends and family as Bosie. He is the third son of the Marques of Queensbury. He was a notable poet and lover of Oscar Wilde. Known for his Grecian beauty and golden colouring, Bosie completely monopolized Wilde's affections and time in the three years they spent together. Contrary to Mukahi's allegations, Bosie was not gay. He married in 1901 and had a son. Examples of his work include "Two Loves" and "The Dead Poet"
Niccolo Machiavelli: (1469-1527) One of the greatest Renaissance minds and the founder of Political Science. Machiavelli was known for disassociating morality with politics, thus the word Machiavellian. A proponent of ruthless and cunning politics, his notable work includes 'The Prince'
Jean-Jacques Rousseau: (1712-1778) Another important Enlightenment philosophé. He was an enemy of Voltaire. He is most known for his idea of the noble savage and his "The Social Contract". Rousseau's idea of the General Will later on helped justify the rules of many dictators despite his initial intentions of a pure democracy.
Cesare Borgia: (1475-1507) Also called the Duke Valentino. Son of Pope Alexander VI and one of the most talented commanders in the Renaissance. Cesare Borgia almost conquered all of Romagna before his father's death. He is the model for a perfect prince in Machiavelli's "The Prince" and is known for his ruthless cunning and deceitful politics.
If I missed anyone or if you want to know more about them, please consult Wikipedia, Harvard proved that it is five percent more correct than Encyclopaedia Britannica. (Plus, pictures of those sexy people are on there.)
E/N: Okay so this girl has way too much time on her hands...let me clarify something for all you. No, Anti did not have to google ANY of this. Yes these are all real people. Yes this is her on a daily basis. Yes she is a loser with some strange affinity for dead people. Do not try to understand her, you'll end up hurting yourself.
A/N: Okay, lemme get this straight. Lord Alfred Douglas IS gorgeous, and so is Cesare and Rousseau and Byron. Gawd, appreciate beauty. Just go read the manga Cesare by Souryo Fuyumi and you'll totally understand. I'm not THAT bad on a daily basis besides, I have to make history interesting somehow… .