--NOTE FROM THE ALL-MYSTICAL, ALL-SWAGGABLE SCRAT WITH A G--
--ANOTHER NOTE FROM THE ALL-MYSTICAL, ALL-SWAGGABLE SCRAT WITH A G--
Disclaimer:
Don't own it. But I should.¤~Shining Star~¤
Chapter One
***Hiroshi's POV***
Have you ever wanted someone who you knew you could never ever have, and yet couldn't let them go?
Well, that's how I felt about him. He was a huge celebrity, and I was just another fan. His name was Ookido Shigeru – adored by practically every female on the planet.
So when I found out that he had finally begun touring near my home in the Orange Islands, I almost burst with excitement. I immediately called my best friend, Satoshi.
"Sato-chan! Guess what, guess what!" I shrieked.
"What, Hiro-chan?" He looked half-asleep, as though I had just woken him up.
"Ookido Shigeru is coming to the Orange Islands!" I let out a squeal.
"Okay, for one thing, Hiroshi: never squeal like that again. It makes you sound like a girl. For another thing, couldn't this have waited until tomorrow morning? It's three o'clock in the morning," Satoshi complained, stifling a yawn. "What are you doing up so late? Or do I even want to know?"
I shook my head. Satoshi rolled his eyes.
"The concert is on Saturday. Promise me you'll come with me?" I begged.
"Hiro-chan, you know I can't stand Ookido Shigeru," he whined. "He's so loud and annoying… And then there's his music."
"Pleeeeease?" I gave him my best Bambi eyes. He glared at me for a minute or two before giving me a defeated sigh.
"Oh, all right…"
"Yay! Thank you! Many glomps!" I grinned. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sato-chan." I turned off the video-phone.
***Shigeru's POV***
"Scrat, where the hell is my water?" I snapped.
"I'm not your waitress, Shigeru," she snapped back. I glared at her. She glared back. We both continued to glare for about two whole minutes until my eye twitched and I gave way.
"Fine, you win." Grinning, Scrat stuck out her tongue and continued poring over some paperwork and making seemingly-random corrections. Sometimes Scrat was so immature, it was hard to believe she could handle the task of being my manager. She was only twenty-three years old, yet sometimes acted like she was eight. She had bright green eyes, and hair redder than mine.
I hummed a tune to myself while I waited for Scrat to finish going over my schedule for this month.
"Okay," she said, tossing down her pencil with great relish. "I'm finished."
"Spare me the details and just gimme the gist," I told her, knowing that she was a very detailed person.
"All right. I canceled your photo shoot on Thursday and I moved the interview from seven o'clock on Friday to eight-thirty on Thursday, so you would have time for a quick rehearsal before the concert on Saturday. You still have a concert tonight before we start heading over to the Orange Islands," she informed me. "Oh, and I added in a contest."
"A contest?" I looked at her, intrigued. "Care to elaborate?"
"We're going to hold a drawing for one lucky fan to meet you, and spend a whole day with you. Do you have any idea how much good publicity this'll give you?" She looked at the ceiling with a self-admiring grin on her face and made two fists. "Oh, yes. I am GOOD."
"I have to spend a whole day with a mindless teenybopper? No, thanks."
"C'mon, Shigeru, it's not like you have to marry her. You just have to spend a few hours with her, be slightly nice, then she'll go home and tell all her friends that you're definitely in love with her. It's not that difficult. Besides, you're deflating my ego."
I sighed. "If I have to."
"Yes, you do." She stood up. "Now let's go get you ready; tonight's concert is in two hours and you still have to get dressed and go through hair and make-up."
"What's wrong with the clothes I have on now?" I gestured toward my outfit, which was comprised of khaki knee-length shorts and a black T-shirt.
"Geru, we go through this discussion every day, and my answer is always the same: TOUGH CRAP."
I rolled my eyes and followed Scrat into the trailer where my whole wardrobe was located. Monica, the lady who picks out my outfits for each concert, was already rifling through the racks of clothing and tossing practically every other item into the 'maybe' pile. I flipped through a magazine while Scrat discussed several outfits with Monica. Finally, the two young women decided on a pair of blue jeans with a red T-shirt that stated the letters 'TJ' on the front in white. And that really required the forty-five minutes it took to decide on it.
"Go get changed," Scrat told me, throwing the pants and the shirt at me.
"Yes, ma'am…" I disappeared into the back room, changed, then followed my fiery-haired manager to the hair and make-up department.
An hour later, I found myself starting yet another concert.
"Hello out there! My name's Shigeru!" I said into the microphone after I finished the first song. I paused, waiting for the girls in the audience to finish screaming. "Are you guys enjoying yourselves?" My question was answered by thousands of screaming teenagers. I winked at a girl in the third row, who was holding a sign that read in big red letters, MARRY ME SHIGERU! She immediately proceeded to faint. "This next song I'm gonna sing is called 'Sugar Rush.'" I adjusted my microphone and moved into place. My dancers, four boys about the same age as me, surrounded me, creating an odd sort of pentagon shape. The music started playing.
"And… start," the stage manager whispered into my earpiece.
"Whoa, yeah," I sang. "I… get a high whenever you're around, sweepin' from my head to my toes, I… gotta get my feet back on the ground…" My voice was almost drowned out by the screams of the audience.
Several hours later, the concert was finished. Thank freakin' God.
I collapsed on a couch backstage and drank almost a whole bottle of water in one gulp.
"Good job, 'Geru," Scrat praised. "One of your best performances I've seen."
I grinned and downed the rest of my water.
(a/n: Ah… not much Rivalshipping yet. [At least, that's what I think it's called… I'll have to check with Ara-chan.] Perhaps next chapter, which will probably be mostly Hiroshi's point-of-view. ^_^ Review, pwetty pwease?)