Making the Band
by Pales Megami (Lady_Ako@hotmail.com)
A/N: Eh. Late again, as usual. I guess the lengthiness makes up for the tardiness, somewhat. Maybe not x_x; R/R, please ^_^
Disclaimers: Usual disclaimers apply, I have no money, yadda yadda yadda. Lyrics found at animelyrics.com; Gackt and all his property belong to himself. And I am forever indebt to the person who suggested the song used in this chapter-- ingenius. Lots of Skittles for you.
Chapter 4 -- Cool Like Plastic
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
K looked up, glaring, from polishing his belived magnum at the sound of the opening door. Sakano sidled in, already trembling with anticipated fear. Of all the people in the world he could be late for, it just *had* to be Seguchi Tohma and K. Not *just* Tohma, which made Sakano want to piss in his pants. And not *just* K either, which made Sakano want to piss in his pants and jump out the window. Oh, no. It had to be both. He wondered if he'd brought a change of underwear.
"You're late," K mildly accused as he scrutinized the shininess of the gun barrel. Pretty shiny, he decided. But not shiny enough. He resumed polishing with renewed vigor.
"I-- I--" Damn. How about a change of pants?
"Did anyone see you come in?" Tohma interjected. Sakano shook his head vigorously. "Good. Ah, I see you have the... documents. Thank you very much." Tohma smiled in what *he* thought was a warm and friendly manner and took the stack of papers from Sakano's shaking hands. Spreading them out over the desk, he examined them closely with critical eyes. K strode over from the office window to read over his shoulder.
"And you're positive you haven't breathed a *word* to anyone?" the American demanded, not taking his eyes from the documents.
"Yes," squeaked the producer. K waved his magnum in the air; Sakano understood the implied message very, *very* well.
"So our precious Shindou Shuichi really has not the slightest clue." Tohma allowed himself an amused smile.
"N-- No, sir."
"And Hiro?"
"No, sir. Or Suguru, either, sir," Sakano added, anticipating his boss's unasked question.
"What fun. Thank you very much, Sakano. Shuichi, you sweet, naive little boy..." Seguchi Tohma, keyboardist of the famed Nittle Grasper and patron of fabulous hats, turned in his chair to gaze out the window, humming ever so softly.
*~*~
It's not fair. Daisuke's reflection pulled a face. He was fourteen. He was a teenager. And yet puberty had painfully let him down. So his voice tended to crack. *Still*. That didn't mean Satoshi couldn't sing soprano, right? And so what if he was a good couple of inches shorter than the others? He should still have a chance at *some* of the solo stuff...
"Niwa Daisuke. If you don't stop making faces in that mirror, I will take it away and smack you with it."
The red-head pouted at his counter-part resentfully. And he *certainly* didn't like the idea of being whipped by someone who was, technically, supposed to be himself.
Dark pouted right back. "What? What are you making faces at *me* for?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
Dark rolled his eyes and turned back to his make-up. Eyeliner was *such* a bitch to put on... just like little Dai-chan could be *such* a bitch to deal with. Guys didn't get PMS, did they? Dark paushed, left eye half lined. He'd never had the mysterious "birds and th bees" conversation every teenager seemed to be subjected to. He'd have to remember to ask Manx later.
The newly christianed Pathos Missing Starfish was crammed into the broom closet-turned-backstage room with forty-five minutes until showtime. The six days leading up to the concert date was like a stroll through hell. Upon their first day of training, Krad nearly popped a blood vessel when he saw the band's opening number. The flowershop, and quite possibly the entire neighborhood, was saved from certain death by a quick-acting Satoshi, though the horror painted on the teen's face showed that he would almost have preferred certain death. Dark could do nothing but laugh. Even Aya was looking murderous, his hand straying dangerously close to his katana. And Daisuke-- Daisuke had looked up at Yohji with an expression pure as snow, and asked, very sweetly, who this Camui Gackt person was, please.
After the initial chaos and several near-death experiences, the actual training got a little better. Not *much* better, but at least Krad didn't have to be restrained anymore. Omi had thoughtfully purchased a copy of "Darren's Dance Grooves," which Satoshi seemed to enjoy a lot. Dark didn't care much for American boybands, but, as he grudgingly admitted, they danced a lot better than V6. Yohji, with a face of complete innocence, suggested they buy Gackt's "Mars" live tour video. Yohji was undoubtedly occupying the number one spot in Krad's List of People to Kill Very Slowly and Painfully.
There had been quite a squabble over who would do the solo bits, i.e., the fanservice. Krad was out of the question; Manx had hastily dumped a bass into his amrs, throwing pointed looks at Dark, the natural, obvious choice. The Kaitou twitched. Satoshi was staring blankly at the guitar Ken had given him... and Dark had *seen* that "Mars" video (it was stashed among Yohji's extensive collection of porn). And Dark *knew* what happened to Camui Gackt's lead guitarist.
"Daisuke, you do it," Dark had growled. But Birman flatly refused, much to Daisuke's dismay. (Everyone had refrained from answering the boy's previous question.) The not-so coveted solo role bounced from Dark to Daisuke to Dark to Satoshi to Dark to Satoshi to Krad (God forbid) to Ken, and finally-- *finally*-- settled on a disgruntled Dark.
"If Tohma doesn't like you, at least the girls will!" Omi had told him cheerfully. Dark slunk off to sulk in the corner.
"15 minutes to showtime, folks." Kenji, the backstage manager, had stuck his microphoned head around the doorway. "Can you guys come with me to the stage? You can finish prepping there."
All four band members gaped soundlessly at Kenji's retreating back. 15 minutes. Backstage now. 15 minutes...
They all panicked simultaneously.
"Fuck! Where the fuck is my fucking bass?"
"Waaaah! Birman, help me with this strap!"
"Goddamnit, Hiwatari! If you're going to throw up, don't do it over my new shoes!"
"... Screw you."
"SHUT. UP. *NOW*."
Dead silence. Frozen in place, afraid to move, the unfortunately named bandmembers gaped at a now very, very intimidating Manx. Fixing them all with a steely stare, she uncrossed her arms and marched to the center of the broom clo-- dressing room.
"Right. Listen up, you guys," she growled, launching into a schpiel not unlike a commanding officer would give to his unit of sniffling first-time soldiers before their first battle. "Fifteen minutes. In fifteen minutes, you boys will be marching out on stage. In fifteen minutes, you will give your performance. In *fifteen minutes*, this mission will officially begin." Manx paused dramatically. "This mission is not, in many senses, difficult. Kritiker, as we have told you in our earlier briefings, will do most of the dirty work for you. All you need to do is be good enough out there tonight to get yourselves inside NG Studios and report back frequently. You will be bugged, of course, and may be required to do some snooping, but your main job is to sing. And dance. And be hot to boot. Or else."
Nobody tried to think very hard about what exactly that "else" was.
"Now, Seguchi Tohma may be a cold, creepy bastard, but he's good at what he does, and he'll drink molten lead before he passes up good talent. You guys are *good*. You've worked hard and have come a long way. You've got what it takes, and Seguchi is going to see that. So go out there and knock 'em dead. ... *Or else*."
*~*~
Camui Gackt was bored. No-- Camui Gackt was very bored. Extremely bored. Filming had actually finished early. The fresh batch of 826,937 fanletters and marriage proposals had been answered and sent away. His display of sunglasses had been polished. He had called up his friends to invite them for dinner-- four days later. He had even bought the pork bellies, despite the sniggers he got from the vendors and giggles from various fangirls. And Hyde was out shopping for more leather pants-- no sex, even. He sighed. It wasn't easy, being a hot *and* sexy *and* insanely famous pop star.
Running a many-ringed hand through his silky wind-swept hair, he lounged back in his Italian leather couch and switched on his 32" plasma T.V, sipping Chardonnay. Infomercial, infomercial, soap opera, news, commercial-- damn, he looked good in that one--, Doumoto Brothers re-run...
"... Eh?"
Camui Gackt, despite his perfect (naturally) eyesite, squinted at the screen. Ah, yes. It was that Bad Luck concert the media had been gushing about for the past two weeks. Gackt scowled. He'd felt so unloved... And stupid Bad Luck had broken his three week streak of being on the cover of all the major entertainment magazines. But-- what was this? Didn't Bad Luck have only three members? Oh. It was the opening band. "Pathos Missing Starfish," the announcer had introduced them as. Camui Gackt hmmed to himself. Never heard of them. He wondered if they would sound as delicious as they looked.
The music began to play.
Pathos Missing Starfish began to sing.
The room was suddenly drenched with a shower of Chardonnay.
Kimi wa seijitsu na moralist
Kirei na yubi de boku wo nazoru
Boku wa junsui na terrorist
Kimi no omou ga mama ni
Kakumei ga okiru
Koi ni shibarareta specialist
Nagai tsume wo taterareta boku
Ai wo tashikametai egoist
Kimi no oku made tadoritsukitai
Kimi no kao ga toozakaru
Ah boku ga boku de naku naru mae ni
Ai shitemo ii kai? yureru yoru ni
Aru ga mama de ii yo motto fukaku
Kuruoshii kurai ni nareta kuchibiru ga
Toke au hodo ni
Boku wa...kimi no...vanilla
...Nante kidorisugi
Sonna cool na kimi wa plastic
Atsui manazashi ni wa ecologist
Sono moeru kuchizuke ga modokashii
Yugande iku kimi no kao ga
Ah boku ga boku da iraremasu you ni
Ai shitemo ii kai? yureru yoru ni
Aru ga mama de ii yo motto hayaku
Kurushii kurai ni nureta kuchibiru ga
Kotoba nante mou
Kimi to boku not burning love
Ah ikutsu asa wo mukaereba
Ah yoru wa owaru no darou ka
Ah sora ni chiribamerareta
Ah shiroi hana ni kakomarete iku
Ai shitemo ii kai? yureru yoru ni
Aru ga mama de ii yo I've seen a tail
Kuyashii kurai ni
Kimi ni hamatteru no ni
A crew sees crying knees
I wanna need. Not betray!
Ai shitemo ii kai? yureru yoru ni
Aru ga mama de ii yo motto kimi wo
Kuruoshii kurai ni nareta koshitsuki ga
Toke au hodo ni
Kimi wa...boku no...bannin da
*~*~
Kiwamura Chieko wailed tearfully. Running over to her friend, she waved the magazine in the air like a banner.
"Oh my god!" Chieko sniffled. "Harumi! Did you see this!"
"No! What is it!" Sakamoto Harumi squealed back.
"*This*!" Chieko shoved the magazine in her friend's face.
"Oh my god!" Harumi eventually gasped, when she had finally finished reading the magazine cover. "Gackt-sama is in the hospital! Oh no! Is he OK! What happened!"
"I don't know!" Chieko had only managed to get through the first sentence of the artical. "But I heard he was in con-con-convulsions and frothing at the mouth and muttering stuff and stuff and twitching and stuff!"
The two girls gazed mournfully down at the magazine, now laying on the classroom floor. "Camui Gackt hospitalized: Pop sensation has mysterious nervous breakdown" blared one headline. Underneath it, accompanied by a photo of a very attractive purple-haired boy, read the headline, "Bad Luck's concert a success: Opening band steals show with cover of 'Vanilla.'"
To be continued...
-----------------------------------------------------------
... ::snerk:: This was an unusually silly chapter; more filler than actual plot. Cameo appearance by Gackt-- guess which was my favorite scene to write? XD Now, don't get me wrong, I love Gackt. I *lurve* Gackt. I'm even going to bear Gackt's love-babies, jeeze louise. But he's such a funny man, and it's so easy to make fun of him. A little explanation about the dinner/pork belly thing: There's a video clip I have, among many others, of one of Gackt's interviews on Utaban. On this interview, Gackt says that he likes to make curry, but it takes him four days to cook meals. So, he explains, he has to call his friends up four days in advance to invite them over for dinner. And in this curry, he uses pork belly, which he bought at Marusho (a cheap, thrifty supermarket) before it went out of business. This whole thing, dubbed "hidden meat," ensues. In a second interview a few weeks later, Gackt says that he couldn't go to Marusho anymore (this is before they went out of business) because everyone would point at him and say, "Pork belly... pork belly..." XD Ah, Gackt. If you want the interview, I can send it via Streamload. It's funny stuff.
by Pales Megami (Lady_Ako@hotmail.com)
A/N: Eh. Late again, as usual. I guess the lengthiness makes up for the tardiness, somewhat. Maybe not x_x; R/R, please ^_^
Disclaimers: Usual disclaimers apply, I have no money, yadda yadda yadda. Lyrics found at animelyrics.com; Gackt and all his property belong to himself. And I am forever indebt to the person who suggested the song used in this chapter-- ingenius. Lots of Skittles for you.
Chapter 4 -- Cool Like Plastic
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
K looked up, glaring, from polishing his belived magnum at the sound of the opening door. Sakano sidled in, already trembling with anticipated fear. Of all the people in the world he could be late for, it just *had* to be Seguchi Tohma and K. Not *just* Tohma, which made Sakano want to piss in his pants. And not *just* K either, which made Sakano want to piss in his pants and jump out the window. Oh, no. It had to be both. He wondered if he'd brought a change of underwear.
"You're late," K mildly accused as he scrutinized the shininess of the gun barrel. Pretty shiny, he decided. But not shiny enough. He resumed polishing with renewed vigor.
"I-- I--" Damn. How about a change of pants?
"Did anyone see you come in?" Tohma interjected. Sakano shook his head vigorously. "Good. Ah, I see you have the... documents. Thank you very much." Tohma smiled in what *he* thought was a warm and friendly manner and took the stack of papers from Sakano's shaking hands. Spreading them out over the desk, he examined them closely with critical eyes. K strode over from the office window to read over his shoulder.
"And you're positive you haven't breathed a *word* to anyone?" the American demanded, not taking his eyes from the documents.
"Yes," squeaked the producer. K waved his magnum in the air; Sakano understood the implied message very, *very* well.
"So our precious Shindou Shuichi really has not the slightest clue." Tohma allowed himself an amused smile.
"N-- No, sir."
"And Hiro?"
"No, sir. Or Suguru, either, sir," Sakano added, anticipating his boss's unasked question.
"What fun. Thank you very much, Sakano. Shuichi, you sweet, naive little boy..." Seguchi Tohma, keyboardist of the famed Nittle Grasper and patron of fabulous hats, turned in his chair to gaze out the window, humming ever so softly.
*~*~
It's not fair. Daisuke's reflection pulled a face. He was fourteen. He was a teenager. And yet puberty had painfully let him down. So his voice tended to crack. *Still*. That didn't mean Satoshi couldn't sing soprano, right? And so what if he was a good couple of inches shorter than the others? He should still have a chance at *some* of the solo stuff...
"Niwa Daisuke. If you don't stop making faces in that mirror, I will take it away and smack you with it."
The red-head pouted at his counter-part resentfully. And he *certainly* didn't like the idea of being whipped by someone who was, technically, supposed to be himself.
Dark pouted right back. "What? What are you making faces at *me* for?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
Dark rolled his eyes and turned back to his make-up. Eyeliner was *such* a bitch to put on... just like little Dai-chan could be *such* a bitch to deal with. Guys didn't get PMS, did they? Dark paushed, left eye half lined. He'd never had the mysterious "birds and th bees" conversation every teenager seemed to be subjected to. He'd have to remember to ask Manx later.
The newly christianed Pathos Missing Starfish was crammed into the broom closet-turned-backstage room with forty-five minutes until showtime. The six days leading up to the concert date was like a stroll through hell. Upon their first day of training, Krad nearly popped a blood vessel when he saw the band's opening number. The flowershop, and quite possibly the entire neighborhood, was saved from certain death by a quick-acting Satoshi, though the horror painted on the teen's face showed that he would almost have preferred certain death. Dark could do nothing but laugh. Even Aya was looking murderous, his hand straying dangerously close to his katana. And Daisuke-- Daisuke had looked up at Yohji with an expression pure as snow, and asked, very sweetly, who this Camui Gackt person was, please.
After the initial chaos and several near-death experiences, the actual training got a little better. Not *much* better, but at least Krad didn't have to be restrained anymore. Omi had thoughtfully purchased a copy of "Darren's Dance Grooves," which Satoshi seemed to enjoy a lot. Dark didn't care much for American boybands, but, as he grudgingly admitted, they danced a lot better than V6. Yohji, with a face of complete innocence, suggested they buy Gackt's "Mars" live tour video. Yohji was undoubtedly occupying the number one spot in Krad's List of People to Kill Very Slowly and Painfully.
There had been quite a squabble over who would do the solo bits, i.e., the fanservice. Krad was out of the question; Manx had hastily dumped a bass into his amrs, throwing pointed looks at Dark, the natural, obvious choice. The Kaitou twitched. Satoshi was staring blankly at the guitar Ken had given him... and Dark had *seen* that "Mars" video (it was stashed among Yohji's extensive collection of porn). And Dark *knew* what happened to Camui Gackt's lead guitarist.
"Daisuke, you do it," Dark had growled. But Birman flatly refused, much to Daisuke's dismay. (Everyone had refrained from answering the boy's previous question.) The not-so coveted solo role bounced from Dark to Daisuke to Dark to Satoshi to Dark to Satoshi to Krad (God forbid) to Ken, and finally-- *finally*-- settled on a disgruntled Dark.
"If Tohma doesn't like you, at least the girls will!" Omi had told him cheerfully. Dark slunk off to sulk in the corner.
"15 minutes to showtime, folks." Kenji, the backstage manager, had stuck his microphoned head around the doorway. "Can you guys come with me to the stage? You can finish prepping there."
All four band members gaped soundlessly at Kenji's retreating back. 15 minutes. Backstage now. 15 minutes...
They all panicked simultaneously.
"Fuck! Where the fuck is my fucking bass?"
"Waaaah! Birman, help me with this strap!"
"Goddamnit, Hiwatari! If you're going to throw up, don't do it over my new shoes!"
"... Screw you."
"SHUT. UP. *NOW*."
Dead silence. Frozen in place, afraid to move, the unfortunately named bandmembers gaped at a now very, very intimidating Manx. Fixing them all with a steely stare, she uncrossed her arms and marched to the center of the broom clo-- dressing room.
"Right. Listen up, you guys," she growled, launching into a schpiel not unlike a commanding officer would give to his unit of sniffling first-time soldiers before their first battle. "Fifteen minutes. In fifteen minutes, you boys will be marching out on stage. In fifteen minutes, you will give your performance. In *fifteen minutes*, this mission will officially begin." Manx paused dramatically. "This mission is not, in many senses, difficult. Kritiker, as we have told you in our earlier briefings, will do most of the dirty work for you. All you need to do is be good enough out there tonight to get yourselves inside NG Studios and report back frequently. You will be bugged, of course, and may be required to do some snooping, but your main job is to sing. And dance. And be hot to boot. Or else."
Nobody tried to think very hard about what exactly that "else" was.
"Now, Seguchi Tohma may be a cold, creepy bastard, but he's good at what he does, and he'll drink molten lead before he passes up good talent. You guys are *good*. You've worked hard and have come a long way. You've got what it takes, and Seguchi is going to see that. So go out there and knock 'em dead. ... *Or else*."
*~*~
Camui Gackt was bored. No-- Camui Gackt was very bored. Extremely bored. Filming had actually finished early. The fresh batch of 826,937 fanletters and marriage proposals had been answered and sent away. His display of sunglasses had been polished. He had called up his friends to invite them for dinner-- four days later. He had even bought the pork bellies, despite the sniggers he got from the vendors and giggles from various fangirls. And Hyde was out shopping for more leather pants-- no sex, even. He sighed. It wasn't easy, being a hot *and* sexy *and* insanely famous pop star.
Running a many-ringed hand through his silky wind-swept hair, he lounged back in his Italian leather couch and switched on his 32" plasma T.V, sipping Chardonnay. Infomercial, infomercial, soap opera, news, commercial-- damn, he looked good in that one--, Doumoto Brothers re-run...
"... Eh?"
Camui Gackt, despite his perfect (naturally) eyesite, squinted at the screen. Ah, yes. It was that Bad Luck concert the media had been gushing about for the past two weeks. Gackt scowled. He'd felt so unloved... And stupid Bad Luck had broken his three week streak of being on the cover of all the major entertainment magazines. But-- what was this? Didn't Bad Luck have only three members? Oh. It was the opening band. "Pathos Missing Starfish," the announcer had introduced them as. Camui Gackt hmmed to himself. Never heard of them. He wondered if they would sound as delicious as they looked.
The music began to play.
Pathos Missing Starfish began to sing.
The room was suddenly drenched with a shower of Chardonnay.
Kimi wa seijitsu na moralist
Kirei na yubi de boku wo nazoru
Boku wa junsui na terrorist
Kimi no omou ga mama ni
Kakumei ga okiru
Koi ni shibarareta specialist
Nagai tsume wo taterareta boku
Ai wo tashikametai egoist
Kimi no oku made tadoritsukitai
Kimi no kao ga toozakaru
Ah boku ga boku de naku naru mae ni
Ai shitemo ii kai? yureru yoru ni
Aru ga mama de ii yo motto fukaku
Kuruoshii kurai ni nareta kuchibiru ga
Toke au hodo ni
Boku wa...kimi no...vanilla
...Nante kidorisugi
Sonna cool na kimi wa plastic
Atsui manazashi ni wa ecologist
Sono moeru kuchizuke ga modokashii
Yugande iku kimi no kao ga
Ah boku ga boku da iraremasu you ni
Ai shitemo ii kai? yureru yoru ni
Aru ga mama de ii yo motto hayaku
Kurushii kurai ni nureta kuchibiru ga
Kotoba nante mou
Kimi to boku not burning love
Ah ikutsu asa wo mukaereba
Ah yoru wa owaru no darou ka
Ah sora ni chiribamerareta
Ah shiroi hana ni kakomarete iku
Ai shitemo ii kai? yureru yoru ni
Aru ga mama de ii yo I've seen a tail
Kuyashii kurai ni
Kimi ni hamatteru no ni
A crew sees crying knees
I wanna need. Not betray!
Ai shitemo ii kai? yureru yoru ni
Aru ga mama de ii yo motto kimi wo
Kuruoshii kurai ni nareta koshitsuki ga
Toke au hodo ni
Kimi wa...boku no...bannin da
*~*~
Kiwamura Chieko wailed tearfully. Running over to her friend, she waved the magazine in the air like a banner.
"Oh my god!" Chieko sniffled. "Harumi! Did you see this!"
"No! What is it!" Sakamoto Harumi squealed back.
"*This*!" Chieko shoved the magazine in her friend's face.
"Oh my god!" Harumi eventually gasped, when she had finally finished reading the magazine cover. "Gackt-sama is in the hospital! Oh no! Is he OK! What happened!"
"I don't know!" Chieko had only managed to get through the first sentence of the artical. "But I heard he was in con-con-convulsions and frothing at the mouth and muttering stuff and stuff and twitching and stuff!"
The two girls gazed mournfully down at the magazine, now laying on the classroom floor. "Camui Gackt hospitalized: Pop sensation has mysterious nervous breakdown" blared one headline. Underneath it, accompanied by a photo of a very attractive purple-haired boy, read the headline, "Bad Luck's concert a success: Opening band steals show with cover of 'Vanilla.'"
To be continued...
-----------------------------------------------------------
... ::snerk:: This was an unusually silly chapter; more filler than actual plot. Cameo appearance by Gackt-- guess which was my favorite scene to write? XD Now, don't get me wrong, I love Gackt. I *lurve* Gackt. I'm even going to bear Gackt's love-babies, jeeze louise. But he's such a funny man, and it's so easy to make fun of him. A little explanation about the dinner/pork belly thing: There's a video clip I have, among many others, of one of Gackt's interviews on Utaban. On this interview, Gackt says that he likes to make curry, but it takes him four days to cook meals. So, he explains, he has to call his friends up four days in advance to invite them over for dinner. And in this curry, he uses pork belly, which he bought at Marusho (a cheap, thrifty supermarket) before it went out of business. This whole thing, dubbed "hidden meat," ensues. In a second interview a few weeks later, Gackt says that he couldn't go to Marusho anymore (this is before they went out of business) because everyone would point at him and say, "Pork belly... pork belly..." XD Ah, Gackt. If you want the interview, I can send it via Streamload. It's funny stuff.