CC is not promoting underage or binge drinking, neither is Akaya.

Many thanks to all those who reviewed. You made my day brighter and less of a hell.

Warnings: Binge-drinking, bad fashion, bad language, KFC and Akaya.

Chapter 7 – Awed…at your blindness

I suppose it could be worse. I have no idea where I'm going but wherever I'm going seemed rather important. Ka-san's anxious. She kept pulling at my hair in the chauffeured car her boss had sent, and fussing over the feathery knit hat I was forced to wear. Ka-san's always makes me wear stuff a season or two early. She says it's to make sure that they fit on me. I think she just wants to make sure it would be able to sell. (If noone throws up on me, it's saleable.)

"Aka-chan! Stop moving!" Ka-san hissed between the hair clips she was eating, or holding. "Why can't you be more like your sister? Stop it or I'll …" As usual she trailed off and concentrated in using my head as a voodoo doll. It was a grueling 30 minutes as she tugged, hissed and cursed, twisted and pinned my hair down so that even Jiji, with his ever-expanding data, wouldn't recognize me.

When we arrived to the place, somewhere in downtown Tokyo in an upscale hotel. The 'dress-up painfully' party on the top floor (why the top floor? Did they ever think that in the case of a fire I would have a hell of a time hobbling down 55 flights of stair?), my head felt like it mince meat and looked like it too. (Proof that Ka-san did visit Africa or some other place where people wear mince-meat hair. Maybe Jackal-senpai was hungry, ate his and became bald?) (1)

Ka-san glided into the elevator, managed to floor the bellboy, stun the reception and make a couple of male guests faint. I hobbled and cackled madly behind her, tripped a rushing bellhop who was holding his nose, and steal a handful of reception candy (5 star hotel candies always taste good) before we got into the elevator.

The uproar was, as usual, due to Ka-san's ultra-bad taste.

Maybe it was Ka-san's hat. It looked like a rotting cauliflower crossed with an elephant ear. Or maybe it was the dress. The slit in the front of the dress was so high you can tell she was wearing matching gold panties. Billowing sleeves trimmed with white flopped around her like batwings. Golden bracelets, rings, necklaces that adorned her, was enough to have sunk the titanic. She was the epitome of glittering weirdness. (2)

Either way, it looked horrible enough to mask the horridness of what I was wearing. I do not relish telling you what I was forced to wear but I will so you can tell how I have been suffering for 12 years of my life.

The outfit was ghastly, but since I'm wearing it, it looks less horrible. (I'm the Rikkaidai ace so anything I wear, I can make it look nice.)

To say it simply, I looked like a chicken. One of those perfectly white ones clucking around the farmyard before it ends up as part of Christmas dinner.

To put it in longer descriptive words, I looked like a white cousin of Big Bird. I was feathered and molting from hat to the lone feathered boot. I would look more at home doing some promotional work for KFC than at some high-end party on the top floor, where the chicken dishes don't resemble chicken. (Does that mean I can fly off 50 floors and escape? I'm wearing enough feathers that would make Icarus jealous.)

The first thing I saw when we reached the top floor, (besides the shell-shocked bellhop) was the vast extravagance of the color lavender that stretched from the ceiling to floorboard. Ka-san immediately glided over to the host and hostess (in which the host couldn't seem to take his eyes off Ka-san's attire) and gushed over the splendid-ness of the entire debacle.

"You look absolutely stunning Rina-sama! The silk taffeta really brings out your eyes!" Ka-san never hesitates to inform her client how good they looked in her designs.

The hostess glowed with the comments because like me, Ka-san's performance would have won an Oscar. (Ka-san takes after me.) The two women bantered back and forth until the host managed to grab hold of his senses (and his bleeding nose) to introduce himself.

"Pleasure to meet you Kirihara-san. My wife spoke of you quite often. I'm glad we finally have the opportunity to meet." The man bowed and kissed Ka-san's hand like an oily, suave pimp king.

"Please call me Kazuki, Atobe-sama." Ka-san said in a saccharine voice. Introductions were made. Rina-san fussed over my broken ankle ("Poor Aya-chan!" she had screeched, completely missing how it's completely obvious that I'm no girl and wearing shorts, even if they are feathered.) Ka-san dragged me off before I got a chance spill tea on Rina-sama's precious gown, though I did manage to fling a feather or two into the nearest waiter's platter.

For an entire hour, I was dragged around like a molting pet chicken to be introduced (shown-off) to Ka-san's many clients. My cheeks were permanent red from all the pinching and I was getting bored of flinging feathers into cups.

She finally left me alone to nurse my wounds after strict instructions to be on my best behavior and to 'tell Keigo-kun how good he looks in his suit.' No doubt she had designed the host's son's clothes too.

I hobbled off eagerly to humiliate the guy. Humiliation likes company afterall.

Keigo was a riot.

I couldn't approach him simply because he looked even more ridiculous than me. What was even more hilarious was the way he strutted around unaware of the disgusting lavender and white lace adorning him, making him look like a wedding cake disaster. (Although still not as bad as Ka-san as the golden elephant.)

I was still chuckling into those sweet bubbly drinks Ka-san told me not to drink (hence why I'm drinking it) when the wedding cake decided to intervene.

"Those are champagne from the House of Perrier Jouet." The wedding cake pompously stated. (3)

"And I'm a dehydrated cripple from Kanagawa." I shot back gulping down another glass chewing on the cherry. "Have pity."

"Those are reserved for guests over 20 and not for little children." The wedding cake gritted out. (4)

"I know my limits." I shrugged. "No need to worry." It's not like I hadn't had alcohol before. Beer tasted like brewed bear piss. Wine tasted like expired bad grape juice. Champagne was tolerable and I know I can handle 6-7 glasses before I keeled over. What was this guy ranting about?

I hit an epiphany. "You're jealous 'cause I can drink alcohol and you can't." I smirked. I'm so brilliant. (Another proof that I'm the Rikkaidai ace.)

The wedding cake spluttered indignantly. He spat out a bunch of words that made no sense ending with a 'I'm still better than you plebian girl.'

"What did you call me?" I don't know what plebian is, but the girl part was enough to make me want push him into the punch bowl and make him wear pie crust.

"Plebian. Obviously your low education belies your appearance."

I hissed. "Obviously your high education missed out eye-brain coordination and drinking etiquette." Anyone could see I'm a boy! I'm wearing shorts! Just because they're feathered (and looked like a dead chicken) doesn't mean I'm any less manly!

"Etiquette?" The wedding cake's face looked like it was lit with candles, flaming red candles. "I'll have you know that my etiquette teacher was flown in from Germany and France and spent a year teaching me. While you obviously are too underprivileged to afford one."

"Since I'm poor then you wouldn't mind if I keep drinking so I wouldn't starve when you kick me out into the streets again." I grabbed another glass, spotting this one had 2 cherries instead of the usual one. "Hah, two cherries!" I crowed.

The wedding cake blazed, and snatched the glass out of my hand.

"Hey! That was mine! Get your own glass!" I hobbled over to him (damn crutches) and tried to look as menacing as I could dressed up like a chicken.

We tussled about (with some moronic guests commenting how well we seem to be getting along) and the drink somehow ended up inside the wedding cake. (Hah! I knew it all along! The stupid cake was jealous that I have better alcohol tolerance!)

The lavender and white frilled monster smacked his lips. "Now you can't have it."

I howled. 2 cherries! I gave him my best glare, turned back to the drinks table and downed 2 more glasses with a smirk. The wedding cake with etiquette lessons (which were probably non-existent, he had worse manners than me) gulped down four. Not to be outdone, I tossed back 3…

oooOOOooo

I didn't know what happened on Sunday or Monday, since I had a massive headache that lasted 2 days. Ka-san seemed all too happy at her success in the party to berate me. Apparently Atobe-san's dress was a hit and now half of the high society is demanding Ka-san's personal touch on their evening gowns. (Oh, the horror! It'd be like the night of the zombified mutated KFC chicken!) She also seemed happy that the wedding cake and I got along so well. (Perhaps her information source was drunk too.)

She was so happy that she decided another trip was in order, as a celebration and inspiration for her new autumn line.

She left on Monday night; leaving me with one of her many credit cards, couple hundred thousand yen in the not-so-hidden jar under the bathroom sink and a pack of aspirin. I think I should feel touched that she cared enough to leave aspirin for me, but that was until I found it's passed its use-by date. (Probably been left in her suitcase for too long.)

Jiji turned up on my doorstep on Tuesday morning smiling as usual.

"Yukimura fuku-buchou has been asking about you non-stop and there's a 87 percent chance that you left the phone unhooked yesterday for an extra sick day." Jiji said, giving me the boot out of my own door. "Sanada wanted me to make sure you'd come to school today."

"I was sick." I informed him. "I had a headache."

"There's a 93 percent chance you are lying because you have an English test on Monday."

I pouted back. "I wasn't lying. I really was sick." I decided to leave out the part about the hangover.

Jiji smiled back in the way that I knew meant he didn't believe me but decided to let it slide this time.

We got to school in good time (late only by 5 minutes, which was usual.) Jiji already had a note to excuse him for his lateness, I had only my convincing pout and tears to excuse me from being late to P.E. It wasn't like I could participate anyway, why wasn't I allowed to sleep in until P.E. was over?

I sat next to some other guy in the lower classes who had twisted his wrist or something. (Lower classes as in lower average IQ classes.)

In Rikkaidai, we have mixed P.E. lessons with the entire grade to 'encourage new friendships and cooperation'. It really is just pretense since the teachers wanted the more physically talented to be grouped together. Unfortunately, those in the lower classes tend to lean towards the ultra-talented jock side (which was why they were accepted to Rikkaidai in the first place) thus all that mixing mounted to nothing. But since I'm the Rikkaidai ace (thus in the elite P.E. group) this is one of the few classes that I could actually hang out with the other freshmen tennis teammates. (Not that they are any fun either.)

"What are we supposed to do?" I asked the brown-haired guy.

"Make sure nobody cheats." He answered glumly, looking longingly at the soccer field. There was a few moments of silence as we sat watching the entire class chase down one lonesome soccer ball down the field. A bunch of maniacs with no sense of tactics. (It says a lot about their brain power when all twenty of them are bunched up together like sheep and the two goalies leaning on the posts half asleep.) It took a couple of seconds before I recognized nearly all of these people were from my class.

"Don't worry about it. None of them will cheat. They are boring like that." I pointed it out.

The guy gave a frustrated sigh and tore his eyes away from the massacre on the soccer field. (It would have been a massacre if the die-hard soccer fans ever watched how my class butchered the sport. They would commit suicide.)

"I'm Hidaka Ken by the way." He smiled at me, dimples showing. "Class 1-3." He was a jock alright, Class 1-3.

"Kirihara Akaya." I introduced, stressing on the 'Aka' part so it doesn't sound remotely like Ayaka. (Stupid Jiji and his stupid nick-names.) "Class 1-1."

Ken's eyebrows rose like a surprised geisha, probably couldn't quite believe such a muscular manly guy like me was in the prestigious class.

"Yes, that's my class." I answered his eyebrows. "They suck at sport, have zero social life, all vying for the snob-of-the-year award."

Ken laughed. "And you are different because –" he slapped his hand over his mouth.

"I play tennis." I proclaimed. "I'm their ace."

His eyes brightened with understanding. "So you're the guy Yukimura-senpai was raving about. It makes sense now. What did you do to yourself? There have been rumors that some of the freshmen were jealous and pushed you down the stairs. Did that really happen?"

"As if they could!" I snorted. "I was exorcising a ghost."

"Wow." Ken's eyes shone at me in awe and respect, like a fanatic church go-er would look at the veil. I could feel this is the start of an interesting friendship.

oooOOOOooo

Author's notes:

(1) Akaya means dreadlocks. Mince meat coming directly from the machine does look rope-like…like dreadlocks…

(2) Picture authentic African fashion style dress, slim it down and get rid of the trousers that should be worn underneath, and you got it!

(3) Some legendary champagne brand that boasted to be long adored by the rich and famous since 1811. The most famous Champagne is the Belle Epoque Cuvée which comes in a gorgeous Art Nouveau bottlethat is decorated with white anemones and enamelled rosescircled with gold which was designed by the highly respected glassmaker Emile Gallé in 1902. (CC got this from a 'best champagne' website, since CC is not privileged enough to taste it. The bottle certainly sound gaudy enough for the Atobes.)

(4) Drinking age in Japan is 20. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

Other notes:

CC had it all planned before CC typed it up. Atobe was supposed to be in black and white Armani suit. Originally, his nickname was going to be Oreo-sama, in reference to his suit, but somehow he turned into a cake. (And now Marui's drooling all over him…)

Hidaka Ken is from Weiss Kreuz. CC was a WK fan since they all look so kawaii, though my favorite is still Omi and Aya. Unfortunately, they do not exist here (at least not yet,) since this timeline is set before Weiss has started. For those of you who don't know the series, Hidaka Ken was a goalie in J-league (and that's all you have to know for now.)

CC doesn't want to add OCs (CC hates OC) but it doesn't make sense if Akaya has no friends in his grade. Not when he's such a lovable devil. How can you not love him?