A/N: Guess who's rereading Eyeshield 21! Guess who wrote this in like three hours so I guess it's full of mistakes! Guess who should probably stop doing things like this!
Set during the Ōjō school festival, after the Devils win against the Shinryūji Nagas. I made up a few friends for Wakana because I needed a plot device, and because female friendship is the absolute best. To be honest, it bothers me that the only time we see Wakana interacting with another girl is when Suzuna asks about Mamori and Wakana about boyfriends. Also I absolutely love writing Ōtawara, he's the best.
Prompt: Look 12—muddled, "one more word and I'll kill you"
Pairing: Shin Seijūrō & Wakana Koharu (manager for Ōjō White Knights)
Apart from Shin, who fails to react, the whole team gets a laugh out of Ōtawara and Sakuraba's maid outfits. Wakana's friends hover around the fence like dizzy moths around a flame, cellphones snapping one hundred pictures per minute; Wakana herself giggles a little, as she goes on distributing fliers for the practice match.
"I should have brought my camera with me," Sato says, frowning. "This is the opportunity of a lifetime."
"I can't believe he looks better in it than I do," Maki complains, closing her phone and sighing. "Next year, he's totally not escaping his class' maid café."
Wakana knows Maki is talking about Sakuraba – anyone with a brain would – but she still pictures Ōtawara serving tea and coffee in heels instead, and she has to press a hand against her mouth in order not to laugh. Ōtawara would agree to it, too, if anyone bothered to ask him, and that only makes her want to laugh even more.
"Don't laugh, Wacchan!" Maki says, frowning. "Everyone weaseled out of maid duty,and my feet are still sore from having to wear heels all day long! I don't know how Kita-sensei wears them all year long."
"Hey," says Sato, still snapping pictures of Sakuraba as he catches the footballs, "let's not forget who covered you during lunch hour. Which is definitely—"
"—the hardest hour to work through," Maki cuts in, rolling her eyes, "yes, yes, I know. You don't have to keep bringing it up. You didn't even—"
"—last the whole hour," Sato cuts in, turning her phone to the side, "but it's not like I didn't—"
As amusing as Maki and Sato's arguments are to witness, Wakana has had a whole year to grow used to them, and she tunes them out as she hands a flier to a small boy. The Knights garner a whole lot of attention and admiration from the younger crowds, and she plans on making sure every kid in the festival knows there will be a public practice. He grins up at her, and disappears into the audience.
"Why don't you ask Koharu, then?" Sato asks, and Wakana's fingers tighten so hard around the flier it crumples. She gasps, surprised, and tries to smooth it down against her thigh, but it seems like it is an unrecoverable injury.
Maki and Sato turn to her, then. Sato's phone is still snapping pictures, even as she faces away from the screen – the photography club will undoubtedly make a fortune this year. Wakana is frankly a little impressed – but she is a lot more horrified.
"Um," she manages, holding onto the fliers like they're going to save her life, "I really can't."
"Of course you can! There's no practice on Sundays, is there?" Maki asks glibly, cocking her head with a grin.
"There isn't," Sato replies, stealing a glance at her phone. "Or did you forget that every single weekday we tried to go karaokeing with Koharu, all she ever said was—"
"—I really can't. I'm sorry, but I have practice today," Maki completes, pretending to wipe a tear away. Wakana feels her face grow warm; she wonders if she could outrun them, but knows better than that – Maki is in the track-and-field club, after all. Still, the desire to sprint into the crowd and hide inside a restroom is almost too strong to ignore.
"Really, Koharu," Sato says, closing her phone and giving Wakana a serious look, "it's not like it's the worst thing in the world. I mean, even that burly senpai of yours is rocking that outfit."
Maki stifles a laugh into a closed fist, and coughs.
"Y-Yeah," the girl says, entirely unconvincing. Her eyes are watering from trying not to laugh; she clears her throat and attempts to become serious, as she asks: "Won't you help out, Wacchan? Just for a little bit, until my feet can manage to squeeze into those terrible heels! Pretty please?"
Wakana loves them. Really, she does. She'll do everything she can to help the class café make a profit, be it cooking or advertising for it. But there is absolutely no way Wakana will wear the maid outfit.
Somehow, Wakana wears the maid outfit. She can't completely parse the moment when she agreed to doing so, nor can she remember how she got into it, but—
"You look so cute!" Maki cries, her hands clasping one another as she titters in place. "Oh my god, you look so cute! Doesn't she? Doesn't she?"
Sato grabs her camera and snaps a picture. Wakana's face goes as hot as the sun.
"S-Sato-chan!" she squeals, horrified, and brings up her apron to hide herself behind it.
"Koharu in a maid outfit: check."
"Wow, you really want your club to make a profit," Maki drones, a hand on her hip. "How much are you going to sell those for?"
Wakana cries out from behind the apron, aghast and embarrassed all at once. As if it wasn't enough to have to serve her schoolmates in a maid outfit! But Sato only reaches out for the fabric and pulls it down onto the skirt. She pats it, smoothing out the wrinkles, and then nods at Wakana.
"They're not for sale – they're just for Koharu and us." She lets her camera fall against her chest, the strap straightening around her neck, and offers a smile. "It's our first culture festival – I want to look back on it."
"Aw," Maki says, and her smile is wobbly, "you really do care, Sacchan!"
Wakana finds herself smiling too, momentarily mollified by Sato's soft side and its rare resurgence. Sato blushes very softly, and busies herself with fiddling with her camera, while Maki turns to Wakana once more. She's all business now, her ambitious switch flipped to on – she fiddles with Wakana's headpiece, then tests the bow around her stomach, and finally steps back with a grin and a victory sign.
"Looking good, Wacchan! Maid café operation is a go!"
Wakana feels like she's going to faint. Legs wobbly, she nods, and trails after Maki while reciting several Buddhist mantras.
In the end, it's not so bad – her classmates' surprise aside, Wakana is a hard-working girl, and most of the costumers that walk in are people she doesn't know. It shouldn't make it easier, considering they still have to look at her when they order, but it somehow does. Her classmates still stare openly at her, and she overhears a few comments that leave her ears warm, but – but Wakana is a hard-working girl and—
"I can't," she whispers, hiding behind one of the classroom's curtains. They've been drawn to one side to let the sunlight filter in, and Wakana wraps them around her body like she's freezing. "Like I thought, I really can't."
"Boys are disgusting creatures," Sato drones loudly. Two boys have the decency to look away as they go red in the face, hurriedly finishing their syrup-covered pancakes. Wakana feels even more embarrassed, which she had previously thought impossible.
"That's kind of the point of the café, Sacchan," Maki says, from behind the stove. "We call it a maid café because the Student Council didn't let us advertise it as, Come Look at Cute Girls in Maid Uniforms (and Also We Have Coffee and Pancakes), you know? Let us prey on high school boys' depravity!"
Sato closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose, and turns to Maki – but whatever she'd been planning to say is cut off by the slide of the door as it opens. Wakana grimaces – she's going to have to leave her safe spot, now – and then she dies inside as Ōtawara and Takami walk in, culture festival pamphlets in hand. Maki goes pink, while Sato blinks, and Wakana freezes.
"You're eating pancakes after takoyaki and yakisoba?" Takami is asking, frowning down at Ōtawara in disgust. "Why didn't you—you know what," he amends, shaking his head and smiling with the practice of someone who's had to listen to Ōtawara's idiocies far too many times, "never mind. I could go for a cup of coffee, myself."
Maki has abandoned the cooking station, much to her colleague's surprise and irritation, and has materialized next to Sato. Setsuko, by the pans, gives Maki a narrowed-eyed look.
"I forgot they went to our school," she whispers, eyes wide and hand pulling at Sato's sleeve. "I totally didn't remember they could come here!" She spins around and clasps her hands, dropping to her knees and looking up at Wakana. "Wacchan, forgive me. I was a fool to—"
"Get up," Sato says, and grabs Maki by the collar of her uniform. She looks over her shoulder at Wakana as she drags Maki off to the stove once more, and says: "Koharu, you're up."
Despite all Wakana is feeling – shame, mortification, a desire to transfer to another school – there is a flash of admiration that momentarily erases everything else. She wishes she could be like Sato, sometimes – cool-headed and uncaring of others' opinions. She isn't, though. Not at all. Which is why her hands are still closed tight around the curtains, and her body remains unmoving. If it were just Ōtawara, Wakana figures she could serve him easily; for all his faults, Ōtawara is kind and deeply indifferent to societal opinions. But Takami is a respected senpai, and he tutors her during exams' season, and Wakana's mother very unsubtly wants him to be her son-in-law, and—
Wakana breathes in the scent of detergent and dust, and steels herself. Because Wakana is a hard-working girl, after all. Her legs wobble under her weight and she thinks she's going to drop her notepad anytime now, but she manages to reach the table with a watery smile, and she asks, with all professionalism available to her: "Good afternoon! May I take your order?"
"Hello, Wakana!" says Ōtawara, grinning up at her. "I want five pancakes with as much chocolate syrup as you can get!"
Takami says nothing. He stares blankly at her, still holding onto the café menu. Under his gaze, Wakana's smile dims and dims, until she can't take it anymore and she covers her face with her hands.
"Wakana," he says, very seriously, the light bouncing off his glasses' lenses, "who put you up to this?"
Maki's face goes pink; she surreptitiously hides a coffee pot. Sato busies herself with taking pictures of a glass of water in the furthest corner of the room.
"Oh," adds Ōtawara, "if you guys have ice cream, I want that too."
Eventually, Wakana manages to explain the situation through her fingers. The lack of new customers helps – it's the middle of the afternoon, and most people are watching the art club exhibition – and Wakana manages to face them both without having to hide behind her hands.
"I see," Takami says, frowning in confusion. "I apologize for assuming the worst. I just – that is, I wouldn't imagine you would—well," he amends, clearing his throat, "thank you for the coffee."
Ōtawara mumbles something through five bites' worth of pancake. A little bit of syrup slides down the corner of his mouth. Takami winces at him, and brings the coffee cup to his mouth while Wakana excuses herself.
She is immediately kidnapped by Maki, who drags her off to the curtains. Setsuko, by the pans, groans into her hands. Sato has excused herself to go help the photography club's exhibition; Wakana hopes the stability the girl so often forces onto Maki won't be needed, in the meanwhile.
"So? So? What did he say? I couldn't hear over the butter sizzling," Maki asks, hands on Wakana's shoulders. "Did he fall for you, Wacchan? I bet he did! How could he not? Ahh, the bittersweet flavor of high school romance!"
She lets go of Wakana to clasp her hands together.
"Maki-chan," Wakana wheezes, feeling a little dizzy, "Takami-senpai is only a friend."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Maki replies, waving a hand. "But still! You never know – the magic of maid outfits can't be underestimated! I'll bet you've already stolen the heart of every boy that came by, today!"
Wakana giggles, despite herself. Maki is a dreamer who reads way too much shōjo manga.
"But seriously," the other girl says, frowning, "I'll take over your shift when the art club's exhibition ends. I'm pretty sure we had some word-of-mouth advertising yesterday, thanks to our super awesome pancake batter—no, don't bother asking, family secret—and I don't want you to get overwhelmed."
"Thank you, Maki-chan." Wakana smiles up at her, feeling too fond of this energetic girl, and the noise of a shutter clicks through the room.
"Koharu smiling tenderly in a maid uniform: check," says Sato, from the doorway. Behind her, Shin and Sakuraba stare at Wakana without expression. "Also, you have new customers."
Wakana stares back at the two boys, unable to move. Sato gets out of his way; she heads to the table where their classmates are resting, setting down her camera and making small talk like the worst thing of all time isn't currently happening. Maki is standing open-mouthed behind the pan, spatula in her hand.
"Hi, Shin! Hi, Sakuraba!" Ōtawara bellows from his table, as he wipes his mouth on his wrist. Takami startles – his eyes glance at Wakana first, then at Shin, and he looks like he's about to be sick. Wakana very much sympathizes.
Shin nods at Ōtawara, then at Wakana, and then sits down at the table with them. Sakuraba follows after him, gaping at Wakana with such intensity that he walks into a chair.
"Fight-o!" Maki whispers from the cooking station.
It's not, Wakana rationalizes, that Shin seeing her like this is particularly terrible. He has, in innumerous occasions, been unable to understand the do's or don'ts of fashion. He has, quite frequently, recognized people only by the way their bodies move. In a way, he's even better than Ōtawara at ignoring discrepancies such as: Wakana in a maid uniform.
Sakuraba, however, is a normal person, and he reacts as he's supposed to.
"What," Sakuraba blurts out, wide eyes still on Wakana's outfit. Takami angles his face in the right way; the light hits the lenses in a threatening way. Sakuraba startles, and amends: "W-What a lovely day!"
"Isn't it?" Takami asks back, with a smile. Wakana will have to thank him later, when she isn't under duress.
"Wakana," Shin says, "why are you wearing a maid uniform?"
To be quite honest, she isn't sure anymore. The only thing she's sure is that she is going to die of embarrassment.
Sakuraba chokes, and knees one of the table's legs. Takami's eyes get so wide they almost pop out of their sockets. In his hand, the coffee cup tips and the drink spills onto the table. Ōtawara turns around on his chair and asks for another pancake.
"R-Right away!" Wakana manages, darting off to the cooking station. Her ears are buzzing, and her face feels hot. Maki offers an apologetic look and a glass of water, while she pours batter onto the pan.
"Wasn't he the one who could never tell what people—"
"Yes," Wakana cuts in, and downs the whole glass. Maki stares, and then takes back the glass with a blink.
"Right," Maki says slowly. Her eyes drift towards the silent boys at the table.
"Don't stare at them so much, Yasu," Sato admonishes, taking over the cooking duty. "Thanks for being patient, Setsuko."
Setsuko rolls her eyes as she leaves, handing over the apron: "Just give me a picture of Sakuraba, free of charge. I know you have good ones."
"How can I not look at them, Sacchan!?" Maki whispers, looking pink in the face.
"Like this, dummy—"
"Well it's easy for you to—"
Wakana turns back on her heel and returns to the boys' table, wobbly smile and legs present again.
"Good afternoon," she says, deciding to ignore Shin's question. "May I take your order?"
"I'll have a glass of water," Shin says, setting down the menu. He looks at her in the eyes, as always. But when she turns to Sakuraba, Shin frowns, and looks down—
"Uhh," Sakuraba says, gaze hopping from the menu to Wakana's dress like he can't believe what he's seeing. "I'll, uh. I'll have a coffee? Y-Yeah, that sounds about right."
Wakana bows her head, ears warm, and returns to the station. Maki wordlessly hands her another glass of water and the coffee pitcher. Sato rolls her eyes, and flips a pancake.
"Just ignore them, Koharu. Focus on the profit," she says, and from the shadowed look in her eyes she means business. Oddly, the intimidating expression makes Wakana laugh – a startled bubble of joy that squeezes through the anxiety and the embarrassment.
"Thanks, Sato-chan," she says, smiling. "I'll do my best!"
It's slightly easier after that – Ōtawara gets his pancake, Sakuraba gets his coffee, and Shin gets his glass of water. They chatter amongst themselves, now, thankfully not mentioning Wakana's maid outfit anymore, and Wakana even sticks around for a while when they discuss the next practice.
"I've compiled the video from Deimon's last match into a cassette," she tells Takami (who's gone into Captain Mode), "and I've made sure to request the locker room's keys from Shōji-sensei so we can get there before his last class ends."
"Good," Takami nods, frowning. "After Hiruma's ploy yesterday—"
"I understand what Coach meant, before," Shin suddenly says, eyes serious and settling on Wakana's.
Takami's and Sakuraba's eyes grow wide, like they can't believe Shin would interrupt a conversation about football. Ōtawara blinks in confusion, inquisitively picking at his nose.
"What are you talking about, Shin?" Takami ventures, looking half-afraid.
"The proper use of moe," Shin explains, crossing his arms.
"Ah-ha! Of course!" Ōtawara says, laughing. "Also, what's moe?"
Shin cocks his head, staring at Wakana harder. She goes hot in the face, gripping at her tray with white-knuckled fingers. Takami pushes his glasses up his nose, and looks at the wall at his side, pretending to be enraptured by a Student Council poster. Sakuraba's mouth is hanging open, eyes drifting from Shin to Wakana at the speed of light.
Shin lets his eyes wander across the frills, the ribbons, and the slight shine of the brown tights. Wakana swallows, face sizzling. His gaze, unrelenting, finally stops at the heeled shoes. One second passes; two, three seconds – he looks at her face again.
"I'm not sure I know how to describe it," he finally says, and frowns harder. "Perhaps I was wrong."
"No," Sakuraba says, and bites his lower lip as he looks away from his best friend, the attempt not to laugh simply too evident, "you weren't. You really, really weren't."
Takami gives up the pretense of reading posters, and brings one hand to his forehead. He looks both old and tired, somehow.
"Moe, Ōtawara, means—" he starts.
"Takami-san," Wakana cuts in, and gives him A Look. Takami goes pale and quiet, while Sakuraba swallows and Shin frowns in confusion. Ōtawara farts anxiously.
A shutter sound clicks again, sounding too loud in a silent room.
"Koharu looking murderous in a maid outfit: check," says Sato, and grins widely.
During the next week, there are rumors buzzing about the football team and maid uniforms. Wakana hears about Sakuraba, about Ōtawara, and about herself, which is embarrassing but predictable. Sato makes a fortune selling pictures of Sakuraba's upskirt shots, gives Ōtawara one of himself upon request, and complains about the boys who want pictures of Wakana.
"W-What?" Wakana splutters, almost dropping her lunchbox.
"Oh, come on, Wacchan – it's obvious they'd want some!" Maki says, eyes glinting. She turns to Sato with a wide grin. "Well? Well? Who were they, Sacchan?"
"Well," Sato starts, opening her hand and tapping her fingers, "there were those two guys from the café, a few of my club's upperclassmen, the girls in the track-and-field team, which I'm sure is because of Yasu, and—" she shuts up abruptly, hand closing. "That's it."
Maki frowns at her, biting onto a pepper.
"What was that suspicious pause, Sacchan?" she asks, pointing at her with her chopsticks.
"It was nothing, Yasu," Sato replies evenly, and focuses on her lunchbox.
Wakana isn't concerned about any suspicious pause.
"B-But you didn't sell them any, right?" she asks, too anxious to even open her own lunchbox. There is another suspicious pause.
"Of course not," Sato says, looking aside. "I didn't sell any pictures to these people I've mentioned."
Wakana heaves a sigh of relief, despite Maki's several loud complaints about suspicious pauses, because Sato never lies. In his classroom, Shin sneezes, and decides to buy health supplements on his way home.