As requested, Ryuichi POV has returned, for another in manga story.
As she appreciated the last one the most, I suppose I'll dedicate this little ficlet to t.a.g.
Whootness.
Again with the cheddar Pringles and 2 liter of soda...
I'm sure this is going to be another LONG one shot... filled to the brim with mindless Ryuichi banter, depression, and inevitably, smut... with a side of humor.
Enjoy the meal.
***NOTE: This has gone far past the ideals of a one shot... I fudged up my time lines, due to Anita having my Gravi mangas, then ended up having to save my ass my adding to the fic once I found out what I messed up. So now, this fic has turned into a new, unplanned monster...
This fic will now be as long as it takes to cover the WHOLE 12 mangas of Gravi, from Ryuichi's POV.
What's the fun in that you ask?
Well, I get bored... and Ryuichi did not have nearly as much air time in the books as I'm comfortable with, so I get to dive into his off stage moments.
So now that I must say so, I do not own Gravitation. It solely belongs to Maki Murakami. However, Ryuichi's POV in this fic is all mine, as are most scenes.
This is now sorta a prologue, and Ryu telling his story.
As Anita has my mangas, and will not be giving them back any time soon (And it takes me 4 hours to get to her college) I needed to find a new source for the manga. So, I ask almighty google for the mangas, and google delivers. I found a fantastic site with the scans on there. Only, their awesomeness. They're fan translated, instead of the translated, and re-writes Tokyopop did. All I can say, is that Tokyopop screwed up a LOT of things, and I'm now re-reading the whole dang thing PROPERLY translated. All Japanese jokes in place, yay!
Enjoy this happy accident!
Pairings: Ryuichi x Tohma, Yuki x Shuichi, Tohma x Mika, and slight Ryuichi x Shuichi, Tatsuha x Ryuichi.
Rated: — For language, and obvious naughty bits.
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I had never expected things to turn out like this. At least, not this bad...
By choosing to stay in New York, I'd hoped to gain my freedom from Tohma, and learn how to live for myself, by myself. I'd hoped to move on, forget the blonde, leave him to his family life, stop the adultery...
I'd failed.
For weeks, Tohma sent email after email, no less than twice per day, narrating his life. I never could bring myself to respond... After 2 months with no response from myself, the emails became less and less frequent, until they ceased to exist at all. Foolish me... I cried.
In all of it, I turned K-san into a mother hen of sorts...
Although the blonde had returned to California, and now lived with Ark, an apparent friend of both K-san and his wife, when Judy herself was out of town on business... When Judy WAS in town, they spent quality time with one another, something he'd missed once the woman had gone off to live her dream. He'd married her upon his return there. They'd sent me the photo.
Despite having no more obligations to me, he hadn't removed his devices from Kuma upon his departure.
I admit it... I knew the man listened to my every word when I went off, in the privacy of my suite... he heard every sob, every fit of destruction...every moan. Those first six months I was lucky to get half my paychecks, the constant repairs to my room eating away at my account.
At times, I was even pathetic enough to talk to the rabbit, knowing that at least someone was listening, even if they couldn't respond, or give an attempt at consoling me.
I preferred things this way.
At the very least, K-san couldn't tell me to suck it up, when all I needed was to let it all out. I'm thankful for this. I'd never been good at bottling things up, my emotions most oftenly worn right on my face.
Kuma had spent most of his life with me, living in my bedrooms, or tagging along on tours, waiting on the couch for my return when we had concerts, or I just flat out decided to leave the house. In the days after Nittle Grasper's separation, and after Tohma, he began to accompany me everywhere. At times I think K-san was grateful for this, able to track my movements, hear my rambling, ensuring I was where I needed to be, and in the right mind set. I'm sure he frequently found himself on the phone with my manager, the poor, evil, woman was always losing track of me. She'd have been better placed with any other singer, one willing to conform to new schedules, new studio musicians. Still, she always managed to find me, better late than never.
The first year on my own with XMR was stressful, filled with sleepless nights, and plenty of drunken stupors. I was never scolded, such behavior seemed expected from American artists, and so long as I made it where I needed to be, in one piece, and did the work asked of me, everyone but poor manager let me be.
I'd signed a one year contract. I had told my bandmates, my dearest friends turned strangers, that I was staying a year... before watching them soar out of sight, and out of my life.
Without a second thought, I'd signed my soul away for a second year.
Weeks after I'd poorly signed my name on that inch thick packet, I received word from Noriko.
She missed me.
There was a time that she'd have jumped for joy at my disappearance... I wasn't sure whether to be sad or ecstatic that things had changed so drastically.
I sent her a brief message, simply saying that I wasn't going back, and that I was sorry.
She responded mere hours later, with an email filled with what I was sure was hysterics... Choppy sentences, no care for writing mistakes, begging me to talk to her, tell her why I was doing this... I ignored her, unable to answer.
My attempt at making a new life for myself had failed. I didn't know why I had chosen to stay. I could not forget Tohma, with his soft touches, the gentle caresses... his silky blonde hair... The more I tried to forget him, the more I remembered. The more I remembered, the harder I tried to cloud my mind... rid myself from that pain.
I did many things I'm not proud of, things I care to not remember. Most I simply, truthfully, cannot recall.
There came a night where K-san heard nothing from my overactive mouth for hours, only my ragged breaths as I clung to Kuma for support. I'd had a bad concert, the wrong sort of audience, only caring about themselves. The hired hands...poor excuses for studio musicians, accidently, or on purpose, booby trapped the stage with their equipment, causing my unexpected, violent dive across the stage mid song when my boot caught one of their cords, sending me flying.
Straight into the drums.
The background music came to an abrupt stop as the other musicians became aware of the chaos. The owner of the set flung his drum sticks to the ground and started a scene as I lay there clutching my shoulder. The throbbing captivated my attention, and I could only hoped I hadn't re-damaged the shoulder too badly in the fall. I did not stand back up. I COULDN'T stand back up. I became aware of the crowd's laughter. It echoed through the concert hall, mocking me.
I shut down.
I was only briefly aware of the others leaving the stage, and Ms. Manager lugging me off stage with assistance of one of the bouncers.
She was insensitive, screamed and harped on me for not having risen and attempted to finish the show. Was disappointed in me for having cowered in a heap on the stage. She continue on, and on, until she finally left me at my room door. I dragged myself through the threshold, and walked straight to the bedroom, collapsing on the bed.
K-san knew nothing of the disaster of the concert. Kuma had been left at home. My silent actions were not explained, nor my early arrival to my bed, three hours prior to the end of the concert. I suspect that he'd called my angered manager to find out the details, but I've never asked.
I tend to try and push as much of that night out of my mind as possible...
After hours of silence, constant throbbing, and sharp pains... I'd had enough.
Enough of Tohma, controlling me still, even though hundreds of miles away, with not a word from him in ages. Enough of my self centered, spastic, manager. Enough of studio musicians not worth a damn. Enough of the unrelenting pain in my shoulder... and enough of my own self pity...
I awoke seventy-six hours later to the strong anti-septic scent burning my nose, Kuma sitting on my chest, and the sound of K-san raging in the hallway outside of my unnaturally clean, white room.
I likely don't have to give explanation as to what happened, nor do I want to.
K took me home. Damn near destroyed the hospital lobby in effort to get me out of the building and back to XMR rather then have me placed elsewhere.
I would not fair any better under constant surveillance than my late mother. K-san understands this, and more about me, than I give him credit for.
He became my manager once again, kicking the bitch that replaced him aside. XMR Welcomed him back with wide open arms, going even as far as raising his pay. He left Judy back in California leaving her with Ark again. I asked him why...why he'd come back, just for pathetic me. Told him I wasn't worth it, that without the band I'd become useless.
He slapped me.
"Clearly I made a terrible mistake leaving you alone with these people. They've done nothing but let you slip away. It's a wonder this country has any music industry with the way they let their artists deteriorate. Don't get me started on listing the number of musicians that have died by suicide, drug overdose, alcohol poisoning, and murder via crazy fans. I should have known this would happen... It happens to anyone worth a damn out here." He'd snarled, far angrier with himself than with me.
I hadn't been able to understand it.
I'd returned to my suite, groggy and under fed, with K at my side.
In all the chaos, I could only be glad that my shoulder was not too far gone, only a dull ache remained. Despite the hospital's recommendations, all medications were confiscated by K, even ones given to me during my departure.
K would be reluctant for years to even give me so much as a Tylenol.
I admit it, I was pretty stupid.
K-san and Judy stayed married. They spoke over the phone a few times a week. On occasion, K even talked to Ark. Weekends, when they were free were spent in Los Angeles at Judy's home. K was free to go alone, but he always brought me along. I'm unsure, even to this day, if it was for his benefit or my own. Probably both. There were times I really just needed to get away.
With K-san's return, I managed to put a decent life back together. The man knowing all of my problems, and dislikes, knowing how I preferred to have my day scheduled, even what I liked to eat, aided in my recovery.
K-san covered the whole mess up. It never reached papers, local, or in Japan. Never reached Tohma or Noriko. It became our little secret.
K-san babied me. Humored me even, even as I regressed further into myself, preferring to play the fool than deal with the real world. With expectations lowered, life became easier. I was allowed to pick my own studio musicians, holding interviews with candidates, getting to know them, and their music. I'd settle on three of them, a typical American set up. Drums, Guitar, Base. I'd keep them the remainder of my time with XMR.
My music started to shine again.
By the time we were half way through the second year, my future was looking ever so brighter as time went on.
Even now, looking back at that first year or so's music, I cringe. Not a single song was a hit. I never made the charts. I lost much of my American fanbase, and had to earn their love back slowly and painfully, working as hard as I could to regain their trust.
One visit to L.A. brought news that Judy was pregnant with their first child.
K-san later confided in me that he wasn't all too sure the child would be his, unable to trust that Judy and Ark weren't together in their time apart. It likely didn't help that the movies she stared in were practically straight up porn, either...
Noriko kept track of me, so I found out. My change in music was drastic. She began speaking with K, without my knowledge. He surprised me unexpectedly, giving me the phone one day. It was amazing how happy I became speaking with her, even if just over the phone. She avoided talk of Tohma like the plague, and I was grateful. She expressed her love for my sudden change in style. She mothered me, chatting with me for hours. Saki had turned five, and I prayed she still looked every bit like Nori.
It was amazing how much I missed her, once faced with the reality of it.
From then on, K-san always passed me the phone, and Noriko humored my change in personality just as much as K.
I signed on for my third year.
By then, I'd gotten my act together, my music was flourishing, even a few CDs made it internationally, reaching my home land of Japan. The CDs did exceptionally well in the states, but that was nothing when compared with the reaction from the Japanese market. I was still as popular as ever over there.
Noriko came for a visit. I got to see her for the first time in nearly four years. She brought little Saki along, and even Tetsuya joined her for their week long vacation. As I'd hoped, the adorable little girl was a miniature of her mommy. Noriko herself had matured, nearly as much as I'd regressed. No longer was she still trying to be a loud mouth teenager. She'd grown into being a loving wife and mother. Her hair was no longer a bright baby pink, but had returned to her natural brown waves from back in their early days. She'd finally become a woman.
I was sad to see her go, I truly was. I couldn't say when she'd be back, but at the very least, we were no longer strangers.
I canceled an interview, band practice, and two separate photo shoots in the middle of the week so that K-san and I could run off, back to Los Angeles, when word came that Judy had gone into labor. We had taken a private helicopter, which had flown at top speed to the other end of the country. We'd landed on the hospital's own helicopter pad, much to their surprise and anger. It took very little convincing from K and his revolver for them to ignore the whole incident and let the helicopter leave as quickly as it had arrived. We'd made it there on time, and Ark had removed himself from the delivery room upon our arrival. I'd kept him company while K-san and Judy had their time together.
"What should I say to K-san if Judy's child is raven haired?" I'd asked nonchalantly as I crossed my arms behind my head, and stared at the nervous man who'd taken to leaning against the far wall.
Ark had nearly leapt out of his skin at my comment, color draining from his face.
I had believed K's suspicions to be correct from there on out, as the man refused to look my direction again.
Unfortunately, it was a known fact that K would not have had suspicions without reason...and I already knew far too well that staying faithful to partners was impossible for some. It didn't surprise me in the least that Judy had slept with others besides her husband... I just felt sad for K.
I'm such a hypocrite...
Three hours after our arrival, a nurse had come out to tell us the good news. Judy had given birth to a healthy baby boy, seven pounds, three ounces. The poor nurse seemed worse for wear, her scrubs in tatters
I'd watched Ark struggle with his next decision, trying to decide if he should chance entering the room. I had known exactly what was running through his head.
He didn't want to get shot.
We hadn't gone through security as we'd entered the building. K had likely been still heavily armed. The labor room had clearly been sound proof, as Judy hadn't been heard. Even though I'd never witnessed a birth, everyone knows how loud the women could get.
Ark had done the smart thing, and had collapsed down into the chairs beside me.
I'd decided to chance it, and had gone it.
It had been a heart warming sight.
Like the nurse, the room was worse for wear, things had been whipped across it. A few bullet holes littered the walls, and despite hospital policy, the doctor sat in the far corner, glasses broken, smoking a cigarette.
K however, was beaming, and Judy was out cold.
I'd walked over to the man, whose hair hung loose around him, and smiled at the bundle cradled in his arms. A chubby little fellow, with his father's platinum blonde locks spiking upon on top of his head.
They'd named him Michael.
Ark would live to see another day. His outlook would depend on future actions...
The third year came to a close, my contract expiring in just under two weeks. We were pushing to release another hit single, the last track for our latest CD.
It was then that things came full circle, and I ended up in this mess...
A frantic, annoyed call from Noriko greeted me in the morning, far too early for my liking. The Shindou boy she was playing for was in a rough spot. She was frustrated, Tohma was damn near losing it, Eiri being involved on top of work was not a good combo, so Noriko said. Told me the kid was a fan...reminded her of myself. I'd asked her to get to the point of her calling so early.
She wanted me to come whip him into shape.
I declined. Rightfully so. To return to Japan, hang around NG Studios... I'd be around Tohma.
"Ne, Noriko... No can do. You understand, right?"
She hadn't.
"I don't care about the damned history you and Tohma have, get your ASS out here right NOW and fix this boy, or I may very well beat his head in with my synthesizer!" She's snarled, requiring me to hold the phone far away from my poor ears.
"Noriko..." I'd whined...whining usually got the job done nowadays...
She'd sighed, grumbled under her breath a bit.
"I'm emailing you his shitty music. Listen to it, make the damned bunny listen to it, and then call me back and give me the CORRECT answer to my single, pleasant, request." and she had hung up.
I glared at my laptop. It mocked me.
Honest, it did.
So tempting...music was always nice. Noriko calling it shitty was practically a compliment coming from her mouth. If she'd really thought it was bad, she'd have been far more vulgar.
I gave in, logged onto my window to the world, and pulled up my email, downloading the midi files.
17 times.
I listened to each and every song 17 times.
I could hear my influence in his voice... I could hear the old Grasper synth sound, courtesy of Noriko.
It sent me reeling... in a bad, and good way.
I suddenly felt a pang for my lost, dismantled band. Nostalgia you could call it...
The midi files were enough to swing my decision... I would go to Japan.
I had to make Shuichi Shindou see the light... pass my sparkle onto him.
Maybe then I could let Nittle Grasper go for good, and not hate myself for it.
I'd called Noriko back nearly an hour after her first call.
It rang several times, before the line was picked up.
"Dammit...you were right... Kid's got potential. I'll help... I'll come to Japan. You're soooo manipulative, Noriko." I'd pouted playfully.
She giggled, and thanked me.
Now I'd have to convince K-san that I was not crazy for going...
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There we go... the beginning to my little monster completed at last.
Chapter two is almost complete as well, and chapter three.
From here on out, everything happens presently.