A/N: Okay, I decided to just wing it and have no OC's (at least for the main characters). Soooo...tell me what you think, please! And please, please, please no flamies...boohoo...teehee. And, this chapter will be really short compared to the others-probablyyyy.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own POT. VERY SADLY.
Warning: If you are the type that does not like it when authors make it an AU fic, or change the genders of the characters, I deeply apologize if I have offended or angered any of you in any way with this story.
"Idol"
"That's it! Fuji-kun-this way, this way! Alright…hold it! Great pose! Now, turn around-that's it, that's it!"
Blinding lights.
Flash.
Noisy chatter of bustling staff.
Flash.
Pose after pose after pose.
Flash.
The brunette leaned forward, sliding his hand lower towards his knee.
"Good job!"
Flash.
Fuji shrugged. One more last picture wouldn't hurt…for now.
"Alright, the photo shoot is over. Thanks for the work!"
"Fuji-kun, please, please don't scare away this one."
Fuji's smile never wavered as he continued to beam at the exasperated man in front of him. The man blanched, and sunk deeper into his black leather chair. He raised a slightly calloused hand to rub his forehead, a sea of threatening wrinkles.
Fuji fought the urge to roll his eyes. They were obviously only trying to 'help' him with a manager because that would roll even more money into their already-bulging wallets.
He was sixteen years old, ethereal with his feminine looks and delicate features. He was a god-like being to many, and, inevitably, was treated like one.
Ever since he'd debuted with his talent as an idol at the age of five, he was considered a prodigy in the entertainment world. His life was filled to the brim with luxury; his wish was everyones command.
He was pleased at that prospect, in the very least. Just one pout from his perfectly-shaped lips, and an entire crew of people could be cut off from this business.
It didn't matter that his parents never had time for him; no, not at all.
It didn't matter that everyone else spat at him in the industry-they were jealous of his superiority.
It didn't matter. That was it.
The only reason he kept up this little 'fancy' of his was because he loved the thrill.
The screaming fans, confessing their undying love for him.
The little exhilarating feel of having everyone's fates in the palm of his unscathed hand.
The feeling of being out there, and knowing that he was a national icon, and knowing that everyone else knew that he knew he was invaluable.
Yes, the thrill of it all was what kept him up there, posing one stupid figure after another.
A confident knock snapped Fuji's head towards the oak doors. The man before him brightened considerably, and he sat up straight in his chair.
"Yes, come in! Come in, come in, come in," he muttered.
The door swung wide open, unlike the other times when it was opened halfway with a frustratingly shy face peeking in.
And Fuji very nearly gaped at the girl who sashayed in.
She was his height, with a perfect figure, curved in all the right places. Her emerald hair reached just above her elbows, silkily bouncing off her shoulders. Golden eyes pierced through Fuji's gaze, a smirk forming on the delicate lips.
But it wasn't her looks that entranced her-he'd met many beautiful girls before. No doubt about that.
But it was the air with which she carried herself, and the overwhelming aura that surrounded her. It had a soothing affect.
Enchanting.
Her movements looked like she was dancing. Each step was gracefully made, with no unnecessary movements.
The girl turned to look him directly in the eyes. Fuji fought back a shiver.
"Fuji-kun, meet Echizen Ryoma. Your new manager."