Disclaimer: I don't own the Prince of Tennis or Moulin Rouge, I'm only melding them together for pleasure.
AN: Hello :) I'm law-chan23 and I'm new and shiny here to FFN. This is my first fanfiction here so I must beg for you all to be nice! I hope you enjoy this. Tezuka may seem a little out of character...but that'll change.
The stage is set…
The lights fade on.
The conductor appears.
He raises his hands.
The music begins.
The curtains open…
Moulin Rouge!
Paris 1900
There was a boy…
…a very strange – enchanted- boy…
They say he wandered very far…very far…
…over land and sea…
A little child…sad of life…
…but very wise…was he…
…and then one day…
…one magic day he passed my way…
…while we spoke of many things…fools and kings…
This he said to me:
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return
The Moulin Rouge, a night club ruled over by Nanjiroh Echizen …a kingdom of nighttime pleasures where the rich and powerful came to play with the beautiful creatures from the underworld. But the most beautiful of these was the man that I loved, Ryoma, a courtesan. They called him The Diamond Prince of the Moulin Rouge.
I first came to Paris one year ago. I came as I was; a penniless writer on the search of a new horizon, unknowing of the existence of the Moulin Rouge, Nanjiroh…and Ryoma. On a hill near Paris was a place called Montmartre, a place my grandfather described as 'a village of sin!' which was not the case, see, it was the center of a bohemian world full of musicians, painters and aspiring young writers. They were known as The Children of the Revolution. I moved here sorely for that purpose to be among them, to write about truth beauty and love. The only problem was that I'd never been in love, but luckily, as I sat immobile at my typewriter in my cheap apartment, a man crashed through my roof followed by a short man dressed as a nun. Apparently he suffered from an illness called Narcolepsy and was in the midst of rehearsing a play called Spectacular Spectacular when he'd fallen asleep and fallen through my roof.
"Oh, sorry about that," three heads appeared from the hole in the roof.
"What are we going to do?" shrieked the middle head. "We'll have to find another person to play the part until Jiroh wakes up!"
"But who could we possibly find to play the part?" the head on the right said.
"Oh this is a disaster!" shrieked the middle head again. "At this rate we'll never get the play finished to show the financier!"
At a time like this, usually I would have frowned and said to them: 'you shouldn't be careless', but before I knew it, I was upstairs rehearsing Spectacular Spectacular with the trio. I was standing on a ladder in front of a poorly created set filled with mountains and trees as the others fought about how their song should go.
"It should be: the hills…are vital?" One sung from the piano in a raspy voice. Honestly…it didn't fit too well.
"No, no, it's far too brusque," the shrieking one from earlier said.
The Narcoleptic man that was now resting on the bed sat up in distaste and scrunched his nose up before falling backwards into slumber again.
"Excuse me," I said as they yelled at one another aimlessly. "Hey!" Still nothing. I sighed. "The hills are alive…with the sound of music."
All three turned and stared at me as if I'd just grown another head. Well, at least they were quiet now, relief for my head at last.
"It's…," the short one drawled, "perfect desu!"
"That was beautiful, Tezuka!" the piano man said cheerfully. At what point in time I had given my name, I wasn't sure, but an unfamiliar lurch of happiness swelled in my guts all of a sudden.
Jiroh sat up again, eyes wide. "I love it!" he exclaimed before he slumped onto the floor.
I continued, "With songs they have sung, for a thousand years." They seemed to be awed.
"I know! Why don't you write the play with Vivian?" the short one beamed. "Together, Nanjiroh Echizen won't turn us down!"
Unfortunately however, Vivian, the shrieking woman, was not as keen on the idea as the others and left in a huff.
"Goodbye!" she shouted before slamming the door.
"Tezuka, you're our only hope of finishing the play!" the short boy said. "Once we successfully infiltrate the Moulin Rouge, with you dressed in Jiroh's best suit, we'll pass you off as a famous English writer and introduce you to Ryoma. Once he has your modern poetry, he'll be astounded and insist to Nanjiroh that you write Spectacular Spectacular."
By this time, I had climbed off the ladder and headed for the door too, but the two men stood in my way. "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm not sure if I am a true bohemian revolutionist."
"Do you believe in beauty?"
"Yes," I replied, uncertain of where all of this was going.
"Freedom?"
"Yes."
"Truth?"
"Yes."
"Love?"
"Love?" I inquired. "Above all things I believe in love. Love is like oxygen, love is a many splendid thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love."
"See? You truly are a bohemian revolutionist!" the short one said before breaking out the glasses and alcohol.
It was decided. I would audition for Ryoma at the Moulin Rouge.
I'd love to hear your say! Please review :)