Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis . . . But I would like to.

Nor do I own Iron Chef, but I think it's hilarious. (Some of following quotes are from the TV show.)

Hope you enjoy!

-Skyla Ladona

Short prelude . . .

Quote: "Tell me what you eat, and I'll tell you what you are." Brillat-Savarin

Echizen Ryoma: ". . . Eeh?"

Narrator: "Nearly a decade ago a man's fantasy became reality in a form never seen before; Kitchen Stadium, a giant cooking arena. The motivation for spending his fortune to create kitchen stadium was to encounter new original cuisines which could be called true artistic creations. To realize his dream he secretly started choosing the top chefs of various styles of cooking and he named these men the Iron Chefs, the invincible men of culinary skills."

In front of Kitchen Stadium eight figures rose up on the platform while the epic Iron Chef theme music played. Dressed in white and blue tennis jackets the junior high students shouldered blue tennis bags. The youngest of them, wearing a cap, bounced a tennis ball on his racket effortlessly, his eyes closed as he drank a can of Ponta. Needless to say, he was the only one who did not jump in surprise when the glaring rays of multiple spotlights fell down upon them all.

Oishi Syuichirou blinked and held up the road map to his face. "Minna . . . did we take a wrong turn."

Fuji Syusuke smiled, calm and serene as usual. "Saa, this is definitely not Yamaru Gakuen's tennis courts."

Kaidoh Karu hissed. "It's all your fault, Momoshiro-baka. You told us to take that turn by the mall!"

Momoshiro Takeshi glared challengingly at Seigaku's snake player. "What was that, Mamushi?!"

Kawamura Takashi tried to break the two apart but only succeeded in getting the full brunt of Momoshiro's fist-in-the-face dunk smash. To stop the heated battle Inui Sadaharu threatened to treat both sophomores to one of his new concoctions.

Echizen Ryoma, still bouncing the tennis ball on his racket, finally opened his eyes and blinked around him. "This looks familiar," he murmered. For a moment he pondered, while beside him Momo used Kaidoh as a human shield against Inui's Akazu attack and Kikumaru bounced up and down waving erratically at all the cameras he could spot with his overactive eyesight. Finally Ryoma's eyes widened in realization. "Ah! Oyaji watches this show." A chill ran though him. "Oyajiwatches this show? I'm on his favorite TV show?" Ryoma choked, reaching up for his throat in horror. It was his worst nightmare . . . and his father was probably recording the whole thing.

At home Echizen Nanjiro sneezed explosively into his bowl of rice, the remote falling out of his hand before he could turn on the TV to watch his favorite show.

Kawamura, once he regained consciousness from Momo's misdirected attack, sprang to his feet in awe. "GREATO!" he yelled, suddenly in "Burning Mode". Surprisingly enough, he was not even holding his racket. "Iron Chef! WE'RE ON IRON CHEF!"

"We have to get to the tournament!" Oishi said.

"But this is a once in a life time chance!" Kawamura roared. "I might never get this chance again! THIS IS MY DREAM!"

"And so is nationals!" Oishi argued. "What would Tezuka say if he were in this situation?"

Oishi's cell phone rang. He fumbled and jammed it against his ear. "What?!" he yelled distractedly. The normally calm Oishi was flustered and angry. His anger fled abruptly as his eyes widened. "Tezuka!"

"Buchou!" the other's exclaimed. Their captain, who was still recovering in Kyuushu, must have seen them on TV. All of them grew tense, waiting for the scolding to start.

"Oishi . . . I expected more from you." Tezuka Kunimitsu sounded very disappointed for someone so emotionless. They could hear his voice very clearly, for all of them were gathered close to listen.

Oishi lowered his head, his eyes solemn. "Gomen, Tezuka, I—"

"Give up this opportunity and you'll run a thousand laps!"

Fuji's blue eyes opened. Inui's glasses cracked and his notebook fell out of his hand. It was useless now. Kaidoh squeaked. Kikumaru fell over. Sweat broke out on Oishi's forehead and he took a risk to ask a very ludicrous question, his hand shaking violently. "Tezuka . . . you don't mean . . . Is Iron Chef your favorite show?"

"Aa. It is."

Ryoma's pale skin went white, the visor of his hat hiding haunted, listless eyes. "Oyaji . . . and Buchou . . . love Iron Chef . . . Something is very wrong."

Echizen Nanjiro sneezed again, tripped over a screeching Karupin, and hurtled down the stairs, yelping as he hit each one with a resounding smack! He still had not gotten a chance to turn on the TV.

Kawamura tore off his tennis jacket with a roar. Somehow, in an instant, he was already wearing the whole chef outfit, the white hat included. The rest of the Seigaku regulars reasoned bemusedly that Kawamura was probably born wearing a chef uniform. "BURNING!" he bellowed, a deadly sushi knife brandished in one large hand. In English he chanted, "I'M THE GREATO IRON CHEF JAPAN! I WILL WIN, BABY!"

Narrator: "Ah, did you just call me 'Baby?'"

To be continued . . .