~*Rehearsals*~
~*~
by Kioku and Mistress
Triumph
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Disclaimer: YYH does not belong to us. Braveheart dinnae belong to us. The song, "March of Cambreadth" does not
belong to us. We own nothing but the
computer and our anime collections. And
eight cats. Don't sue. No $.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Kurama, how d'ye get these kilts
on, again?" asked an irate fire demon with a bad Scottish accent.
"That's not proper English."
"No, it's proper Scottish!"
Kurama sweatdropped. "Right.
Hiei, you don't have to speak like that *all* the time, you know," the
redhead said, watching as the Jaganshi struggled into the plaid garment.
"Ay'm just tryin ta get inta ma
character," he replied. After a few
more moments of straining, he got the kilt on.
He looked down at the bagpipes sitting on the floor. And looked some more. "Ah think not."
Kurama sighed just as the
wardrobe manager rounded the corner.
The small man hefted a large plastic-wrapped article of clothing in his
arms, thrusting it at the human-turned-youko.
"This is your costume. Please
try it on and let us know of any problems as soon as possible," the balding man
murmured, and hurried away. Kurama
shrugged, opened the plastic, and his green eyes nearly bugged out of their
sockets.
"WAITAMINUTE! This is a *dress*!" he screeched, waving the
bejeweled thing around madly. "How am I
supposed to wear this! Look at the neckline! I haven't got *any* bust! Let alone enough to fill…fill…that!"
Hiei looked up from the bagpipes
and smirked at Kurama. "Whar's yer
French accent, lad?"
The redhead glared. "Moi?
O! 'Ow could I 'ave forgotten!"
He put a hand to his forehead, feigning dramatics.
"Hn. Idiotic fox," he murmured.
"Ya dun't have ta be so melodramatic."
Kurama clutched the abhorred
dress to his chest, batting his eyelashes.
"O! But, mon ami, I must disgust
you! 'Aving forgotten ze most important
part of my role!" He made a face. "My throat is gonna give out after an hour
of this. I just know it," he said in
his normal tones.
"At least ye dun't have ta wear a
skirt! Hey, wait a minute. Aren't ya a prince? Why are ya wearin a dress?"
Someone snickered from behind the
lunch tables where all the goodies to snack on during production were
kept. Kurama stepped up to it, listened
a little closer as another chortle sounded out, and whipped up the tablecloth
hiding what was beneath.
Koronue's big blue eyes blinked
up at him.
"Kisama! This is all your doing, isn't it?!" Kurama bristled. Had he been in youko form, his ears would have been flat against
his skull.
"I'm here ta watch your back, old
friend. That doesn't mean I can't have
a bit o fun," the bat youkai retorted.
"Actually, yar here ta watch *my*
back, not 'is," Hiei stated. It should
be noted that his accent was getting better.
Kurama sniffed. "I'm still not happy about the dress."
The wardrobe manager
returned. "I made a mistake. *This* is your real costume."
Kurama took one look at the thing
and balked. "Who the hell is supplying
these things?! Maybe Hiei could fit
into those pants, but I certainly am not going to try!"
"Well, Mr. 'Star', that's what
you're getting! Take it or leave
it. Of course, if you *really* want to
go out there with no pants…"
"Fine! Fine! I'll wear…it…" Kurama ripped the outfit out
of the stout man's hands and headed for his dressing room.
"What's wrong with 'im?" Hiei
asked. He had finally given up on the
bagpipes and burned them in a flash of black fire.
A prop person came running out
frantically. "How could you!? Those were $2,000 bagpipes that you just
destroyed! You're paying for those!"
"Talk ta my lawyer."
"You… you… bastard!!"
"Are ye tryin to insult me? Ah've been called worse by a baby."
The prop person shook from barely
contained rage. "You'll. Be.
Hearing. From. Us."
He bit off every word like it would sting him. Then he turned sharply one heel and stalked out of the room.
Koronue snickered. "Baby, eh?"
"It was a youkai, but 'twas still
a baby." By now, his accent was almost
perfect. Except for the awkward way he
wore his kilt, and his abnormal hair one could almost mistake him for a native.
Koronue shrugged. "I can see yer point," he started, his Irish
accent nowhere near right. "Well, I
best be gettin' to the other dressing areas.
I made some other 'alterations' to the costume list." He winked and left.
"So, Kurama, are ye having
trouble? Ye've been in thar for
awhile." Hiei raised his voice as he
stepped up beside Kurama's door to make sure the boy could hear him.
"They want me to wear this in
public? How could they… what are
they…have they no fashion sense!?" The
redhead's muffled complaints rang through the wooden panel.
"How'm ah supposed ta know? Ah can't see what yer wearin!"
"Trust me, you don't want to
see."
"Are ye going to be wearing that
when ah kiss ye?"
A pause.
"We're nude in that scene,
Hiei. Remember?"
"We are? Ah guess ah should've read the script more carefully."
A sigh fluttered in the
room. Then, the doorknob turned. Kurama stepped out. "Fine, fine. Here I am," he grumbled, pulling the door shut behind him.
Hiei gaped. "What the 'ell is that?!? It looks like a cross between a poodle and a
wetsuit!"
"I think its one of Prince's (or,
the artist formerly known as) old jumpsuits…"
The wardrobe manager popped in
again. "Actually, it's a vintage
replica thing from France, circa 1300 AD."
Both Hiei and Kurama
sweatdropped. "Riiiiiiight…" The Scottish and French accents clashed, but
who cares? At least they're in character now.
"Look, cue ball, I don't care if
its one of Elvis's undergarments. This
thing is getting trashed, and I'm getting my own costume!" Kurama shouted, walked back in his room,
slammed the door behind him, and began a series of long, detailed phone calls.
Hiei blinked. Kuwabara walked into the room, dressed in
his costume as future King of Scotland.
*His* costume looked good on him, unlike Kurama's. However, the shoes did not match, courtesy
of Koronue.
"Hello, shrimp. Ah've landed a better role than yers, ah
see. *I'm* the future King, and yer
only a rebel without a cause."
"Ah dun't know if ye've realized
this, Kuwabara, but the title of the piece refers to *my* character, and I 'ave
more screen time than you. Plus, I get
Yukina," he threw that last bit in, not to be incestuous, but to make the
ningen angry.
"Ye little bastard! Yukina is mine!"
"Not today."
"I'll… I'll *kill* ye!"
"Sorry, ye can't. Didn't ye read the script? That's Karasu's job. I think 'e was jealous of me and Kurama."
"That ain't proper English,
Braveheart," Kuwabara asserted.
"Ah know that! It's proper Scottish!"
"Ah can't believe the two of us
are going to have to get along for this."
"Neither can I. Ah hope I can refrain from killin ye."
"Well, since ah can't be with
Yukina during the filming, ah'm gonna go be with her now," Kuwabara informed
Hiei.
"Ye stay away from her! She's too good fer ye."
Kuwabara didn't listen, but
instead walked out to find his love.
At that exact moment an errand
boy rushed past, knocking hard on Kurama's door. The panel cracked open, whispered words were exchanged, the door
closed after the boy gave Kurama a large box, and then he left.
"Thank Inari-sama! Real clothes!" Kurama gushed from inside the room, and the sound of tearing
cardboard was heard.
"Are they as 'real' as what ye
wear when ye're a youko?"
Kurama snickered. "Well, ningen clothes actually cover the
skin, so the answer to that would be no."
Hiei blushed. "Ah'm goin to another room now. I want to see what everyone else is
wearing. I feel better in ma kilt, so
ah'm not embarrassed for them to see me anymore."
"Wait, wait! I'm almost
grunt finished," Kurama pleaded, slipping into his new
outfit. Hiei complied, leaning against
the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the staff and cast
bustle by. After a minute or two the
door swung open and Kurama stepped out, a smug and satisfied look on his face.
He was dressed head to toe in
white silk, silver cords tying a tunic tightly closed around his neck, loose
pants flattering his slender figure. He
looked considerably more comfortable in the loose confines of his ensemble than
the spandex-ridden hell of before.
"They look like yar youko clothes
with a little more substance to me," Hiei declared.
Kurama flipped his heavy cape
over one shoulder, adjusting his cuffs.
He winked. "Less to take off,
ne?"
"Ah suppose… Can ah leave now?"
Kurama frowned. "Fine.
Go on and wander. I think I'll go show that moron who calls himself
costume designer a thing or two about class."
With a flick of red hair and white, he was gone.
"Hn. Crazy red roan." (1)
Hiei set off for the other
dressing room, where the characters on the side of the English generally
were. Koenma was struggling into tights
and complaining the whole time about how degrading it was for a Reikai prince
to have to wear 'girl's clothes'.
"—and do they have to be bright
yellow? Bright yellow tights! I'm not a circus clown, for Enma's sake."
"Calm down, Koenma-sama," Botan
soothed. "You only have to wear it for
the duration of the filming, and then you can burn it."
"I heard that!" the wardrobe
manager yelled from the hall. "There
will be no more destroying of Reikai Pictures property. Between that midget and the costume
sabotager we're already behind almost $3,000.
No more! No burning!"
"Well, at least you can turn them
in and you'll never have to see them again."
"Alright…" Koenma agreed
dubiously.
Yusuke stepped out of his
dressing room wearing a coarse, heavy shirt and plaid kilt. "If anyone laughs, Ah'm goin ta shoot them."
"No, you won't," Koenma
corrected. "I turned off everyone's
powers until the end of filming. All
except Hiei, because he needs them for certain scenes."
"So he can shoot lightning bolts
from his arse?" Yusuke inquired.
"Absolutely not!!" Koenma shouted, cinnamon eyes going
wide. "That would hurt!"
Yukina, who had heard just enough
of the conversation while waltzing into the hallway, giggled. Kuwabara came in right behind her.
"Oh, ma fair Ice Maiden, wilt
thou be ma wife?"
Koenma leaned over to whisper
into Botan's ear. "We can't give first
right to the nobles when Yukina is involved.
Hiei would have a fit." Botan's
eyes went saucer size.
"Oh…dear…"
Hiei walked in. "Ah heard that!"
"How? I was whispering," Koenma defended himself.
"Ah'm a youkai. Ah 'ave good hearing."
Koenma sweatdropped. "Hey, it was true, wasn't it?"
Hiei glowered.
"What'd ya say, Koenma?" Yusuke wondered.
"Nothing of consequence!" the
Prince of the Dead answered a little too quickly. Botan blinked.
"I would say it had a pretty big
consequence…" she mumbled.
Hiei glared at her with his Glare
Of Death TM .
Kurama waltzed in, dusting his
hands off. "Well, I think baldy's
self-esteem just plunged to new lows… hey, what's with all the serious faces?"
"Ah dun't know. No one will tell me anything," Yusuke
complained.
"There's nothing to tell!" Koenma
upheld.
"Okay, okay, I think rehearsals
are about to start," Kurama said, refusing to use his French accent.
They all began to shuffle out and
head towards the set, ready to do the final (and Karasu's personal favorite)
scene.
Speaking of Karasu, the arch
villain swept onto the set as they entered, dazzling in jewels and silks for
his role. The metal mask was missing,
however, and his sinister smirk made them all a little nervous. He put a hand on his hip, meeting Hiei's
eyes.
"Ready to be drawn and quartered,
disemboweled, and then," he made a sharp motion with his hand at his throat,
"beheaded?" He raised a pencil thin
brow.
"Ye're sick. No wonder Kurama doesn't like ye," the fire
demon responded.
The afore-mentioned redhead was
glaring. "Moi gets ze feeling zat you
are enjoying dis far more zan you should be, Karasu?" Kurama asked, hands clenched, using his accent now that the
director was present.
The enemy smirked. "Because I am, my dear."
"..."
"Ok, ok, people!" the director strode up, a heavy clipboard in
one hand, a Mars Bar in the other.
"Let's get this scene going!
Karasu… Karasu? You're supposed
to be dying right now, not at Hiei's execution." The man blinked.
"Die! Die ah say!" Hiei cried, fed up with that freak making passes at
*his* Kurama.
"No, no, no, no. You first, I insist," Karasu answered richly, giving a sweeping
bow towards the wooden rack behind him.
Kurama, once again, glared.
The director quickly checked the
script at hand. "No, Karasu, you die
first."
The tall 'King of England' examined
his nails. "I have bombs."
"Ok, Hiei dies first!"
Hiei cleared his throat. "Ah have
a katana."
"Karasu, you expire first."
"I have henchmen."
"Hiei, say bye-bye!"
"Ah have a Kokuryuuha."
"Karasu—"
"I have," the blue-haired demon reached out snagged
Kurama by the arm, pulling him close to him.
"Kurama." He smiled as Kurama
tried to bat him away.
"Ye most certainly do not. 'e's mine.
Ye can even ask him yerself," Hiei stated.
Kurama sighed. If he were a fire hydrant, he surely would
have been peed on by now. "I'm
property. Stick a trespassing sign on
me."
"Dun't ye mean a '*no*
trespassing' sign?" Yusuke inquired.
Kurama banged his head up against
the nearest immobile object, which in this case would be Karasu.
"Can we please just get
started? The quicker we finish, the
quicker ah can be with Yukina again," Kuwabara whined.
"Can't ye just shut up about ma
sister for 5 minutes?!" Hiei yelled.
"Can't you *both* just s'ut up
and 'elp me?!" Kurama demanded, then
yelped as Karasu's hands went somewhere they definitely didn't belong.
"Karasu, ah'm only goin to ask ye
once. Release the fox," Hiei demanded.
"Oui! Release ze fox!" Kurama
agreed, ready to bring out the heavy artillery. If his Rose Whip wouldn't keep Karasu at bay, he didn't know what
could. Maybe Hiei. No, unquestionably Hiei.
"Fox? I see no fox here,"
Karasu said, looking around with falsely bewildered eyes. "All I see is a beautiful, sexy, redheaded
–"
"Stop right thar. That beautiful, sexy, redheaded whatever is
*mine*." Hiei sounded as deadly as one
could when one is speaking in a Scottish accent. Kurama smiled, and Karasu sneered.
The director didn't dare
intervene. He liked all his limbs where
they were, thankyouverymuch.
"Fine," Karasu shoved Kurama away, who tripped and landed face up between
Hiei's legs, getting an unblocked view of Hiei's 'assets'. He blinked, and then smirked.
"KURAMA!! What're ya doin??!??" he shrieked. "Yar looking up me kilt!" Kurama gave a smug grin as Koenma went as red
as the kitsune's hair, and Botan hid behind a fold of her dress.
"It's nozzing I 'aven't seen
before," Kurama answered smartly.
Everyone but the two lovers fell
over in shock. Well, all but Karasu and
Genkai. It wasn't as if the two hadn't
spent the night at her temple before, so she wasn't at all clueless.
Hiei blushed. "Could ye please… get up?"
Kurama pouted. "Fine, it is not as if I'm not going to see
it later, anyvay." He stood, dusting
himself off, as the director cleared his throat.
"Um, may we get down to business
now, please?" he asked, tapping the script with one hand.
"Fine with me," Mukuro
proclaimed.
And so, the chaos (meaning
filming) began.
~owari~
(1) 'Red roan' refers to the lyrics that will show up
throughout the real fic (i.e. not this)
Cast List
Kioku's people:
Hiei William
Wallace
Yusuke Hamish
Kuwabara Robert the Bruce
Genkai Isabella's friend -
Nicolette
Botan Prince Edward II
Mukuro Uncle Argyle
Mistress Triumph's people:
Kurama Princess Isabella
Koronue Stephen
Karasu King Edward I
Shizuru Robert's father
Koenma Prince Edward's "advisor"
Yukina Murron
