Rating: PG-13
"I can't believe they talked me into this, no da," Chichiri muttered to himself
as he paced backstage. All he could remember from last night was a dizzying array
of blurry images, filled with laughter and the scent of alcohol. He couldn't
remember what got him to promise this that drunken night, but here he was.
Chichiri sighed.
The roar from the audience was growing louder. Taking a deep breath, Chichiri
walked grimly to the curtains, his mouth set in a straight line behind his mask.
As soon as he stepped on stage, he was nearly blinded by all the spotlights.
While he forced his eyes to readjust, the screaming from the audience reached a
climax. A thousand fangirls had come, just to see him. /One of these days, you'll
look back on this and laugh/ he told himself. At the moment, that wasn't doing
him much good.
He forced a huge kawaii grin on his masked face. "NO DA!" he cried. Ten of the
more inexperienced fangirls collapsed, either from Chichiri's appearance or from
screaming too much.
The music started up. Chichiri took of his kasa and tossed it out to the
audience. One of the girls caught it, and was promptly taken to Taiitsu-kun's
palace, where she was lectured by the wise woman on hormone control.
In the meantime, Chichiri ripped off his mask. Thirty more fangirls collapsed.
With a cute little smirk, he winked at the audience. Fifty sighs filled the air,
followed by fifty *THUD*s.
As the music picked up, he slowly unwrapped his kesa and tossed it to the
ground in a purple flutter. Without it, his muscles were clearly defined through
the thin shirt. The crowd went wild.
After kicking off his shoes, he turned his back to the audience, and v-e-r-y
s-l-o-w-l-y took off the laces around his socks. Due to the rather form-fitting
leggings he wore, along with a rather toned behind, one hundred and fifty more
fangirls fell to the ground.
Finally, Chichiri was beginning to enjoy himself. Although seeing hundreds of
girls drooling in an estrogen-laden environment was a little intimidating...
With a grin, he shrugged out of his shirt, all the time looking coyly out across
the club. He slipped out of the sleeves, his fingers caressing his skin. Many
sweatdrops were formed, many more *THUD*s followed.
Now wearing only his leggings, he grabbed his staff and started twirling it
around. "Let me show you what I can do with my stick," he growled at the audience
with a lascivious smirk. Two hundred *THUD*s echoed across the room.
On cue, glitter started falling onto the stage. Fifty Velvet Goldmine fans
screamed "CURT WILD!" before joining their comrades on the ground.
Chichiri's grin grew wider. He tossed his staff aside and turned back to
the audience. With another
teasing wink, his hands slithered down underneath his pants. More *THUD*s. He
slid out of them, moss green pooling at his feet. And underneath he was
wearing... boxers with little kawaii monkeys on them! Several girls said "awwww"
at the adorable sight, before they too fainted.
There was only one fangirl left standing, and she had a very strained expression
on her face. Chichiri smiled deviously to himself.
* * *
Erjika had to control her breathing from the moment he took his mask off. She
had promised herself she would hold out until Chichiri was in the state of
complete deshabille, but it was very difficult, especially with the glitter...
she shuddered and firmed up her resolve.
And now she was the last one who had not yet fainted. And Chichiri was staring
directly at her, with one downright ecchi expression on his face. Her defenses
began to crumble.
Thousands of images of Chichiri flew through her mind: chibified and
nonchibified, with and without the mask, in various states of undress (and
several compromising positions). Her brain shorted out, and with a sigh, she
tumbled to the ground, the last fangirl to fall.
* * *
Chichiri grinned to himself. "It's over, no da!" He looked to the far back of the
club, to a figure obscured in the shadows.
The figure stepped forward, coalescing into a certain red-headed bandit. He
sauntered up to the stage and straight up to Chichiri, his amber eyes smoldering.
Tasuki smirked. The man before him was wearing nothing but monkey boxers and
glitter, yet he still managed to look dignified. He took Chichiri's face in his
hands, fingers gently caressing the scar, before pulling him into a long, sultry
kiss.
They pulled back at the same time, breathing hard. Tasuki leaned over, his tongue
stroking Chichiri's ear.
"How 'bout we take this backstage?"
"Daaaa..."
~finis~
Category: humor
Summary: Chichiri loses a bet and pays the price.
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