Acknowledgements and Disclaimers: I do not own Dragon Voice, it and it's associated characters are the property of Yuriko Nishiyama and probably Tokyopop. This story was written for the 42 Days challenge on the author board (see my bio for link). Challenge parameters are as follows: Write a story, where one character of your choice stands in front of their (imaginary) linen closet and gets dressed. There should be details of clothes, colors, fabric, smells and other sensory input involved. There are other things involved; length, required words, that sort of thing, but you get the idea. This isn't my best work, so please understand I don't do my best under deadlines. Thanks to Eden for an ultra-quick mini-beta.
Dragon Voice is an incredibly awesome manga that I highly recommend, despite the banality of this story. It's the first one I've seen that captures both captures the essence of performing as well as acknowledging the reality in the details. However, for those unfamiliar with the series, the following recap is taken from Tokyopop's summary in Volume 2.
Rin Amami is a good looking 15 year old kid with a lot of street smarts, but not much in the way of prospects. He's a street dancer, with dreams of becoming a singer and performing his own original music. But with a voice that sounds like a dying bullfrog, he's had to settle for dancing to other people's tunes. This is, until a chance encounter with the newest boyband, THE BEATMEN, forces Rin to follow his ambition. After a series of bizarre circumstances put Rin onstage with THE BEATMEN, the band's manager is convinced that Rin possesses the legendary "Dragon Voice"- filled with "demonic charm and God-like brilliance." Unfortunately, not everyone is so enthusiastic, and it looks like Rin's singing career may be over before it starts. However, Shino, the group's leader, sees something in Rin and convinces him to take another stab at it. With Shino's guidance, Rin improves enough to prompt the manager to make the stunning announcement that Rin Amami is the newest member of THE BEATMEN.
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Backstage was almost like a different world.
Backstage, in Rin Amami's case, was the inside of a modified semi-trailer truck. It was crammed with sound equipment, speakers, microphones and all the rest of the paraphernalia necessary to stage an outdoor concert. When the signal came and the side of the truck was lowered, this crowded chaos would turn into a professional looking stage, with enough room to rock the audience.
Each of the band members had their own tiny cubicle partitioned off, no more than a closet-sized space. The other members of The Beatmen were ready, burning off their excess nervous energy by rehearsing their opening number one more time. As Rin was learning, the illusion of an effortless show was a performer's gift to the audience. It took time, energy, dedication and above all strenuous rehearsal to create the fiction of an easy show. When those on stage put their heart and soul into the concert, they could take each and every fan with them into a perfect world, if only for a little while.
And that gift, the ability to create magic for others out of his own effort, was the thing that made Rin Amami's life worth living.
As he began dressing for what was to be his debut with The Beatmen, Rin felt as if he were donning a different persona, or perhaps integrating his past hopes with the future of his dreams.
First came his pants, skintight around his legs and ending mid-calf. They were dancer's pants, made for moving. Rin had been a street dancer when The Beatmen found him, and he executed a spin/turn/slide, feeling the material flex and stretch with each shift of his muscles. Much better than the sweatpants he'd worn before joining the group, no contest. The way they moved with his body reminded him of the base of his talent, the effortless way he could copy dance routines after having seen them only once.
Next of course was the shirt, a tank top cut at the midriff. The dark material was shiny, and slid through his hands like water, smooth against his skin as it settled against his torso. The fabric bounced stray colors at random, so that now was a glitter of emerald, another moment sapphire blue shone through and a rare startlingly ruby splinter would flash for an instant. This was nothing Rin would have worn before now, a bold thing begging to be noticed.
It was the embodiment of his dreams, this shirt. All his life Rin had wanted to be a singer, even though his voice was coarse and rough. Until Shino had challenged him, Rin had thought those dreams were put away for good. Now here he was, ready to boldly lay that dream before the audience, in a shirt that was the antithesis of the silent drifter he'd let himself become.
There was barely enough room for him to sit on the floor, as he put on his boots and socks, smiling at the way the buckles jingled when he pulled them on. These boots were a symbol of his individuality, the unique personality he brought to The Beatmen. The others wore soft leather but Rin's boots had straps and links, an image as strong as his will to succeed. They rang musically with every step he took, he literally carried sound everywhere he went. Even with the buckles fastened, they clinked and chimed to the song in his heart. Standing, he slid the matching belt through its loops, completing the sign of his individuality.
Almost done, Rin wiggled his hands into the fingerless gloves. The smell of new leather caught his nose and he remembered that smell from the streets, laborers stopping to watch him dance with their leather tool belts, gloves or jackets. It was the scent of hard honest labor, the kind he learned went into making a show look effortless. Leather protected skin, the way performers protected the dream for their audience. Before The Beatmen, Rin hadnothingbut contempt for idols, imagining them to be shallow and cold. Some of this, Rin could now admit, was due to jealousy, they had the dream he'd never let himself dare to pursue. Flexing his hands to settle the leather more tightly around them, he remembered the grueling hours of voice training spent to hit just three seconds of perfect harmony.
Rin hesitated before picking up the last piece of his costume. The black trench coat was the instantly recognizable symbol of The Beatmen. As soon as he put it on, he would become, in truth, the fifth member of the group. It was unity and strength and united will wrapped into one cloth package. It was fitting that Goh, the member he'd had the most trouble with to date, had been the one to hand it to him.
He was accepted. He was recognized. He was acknowledged. And, he concluded, the black material swirling around his body, he was Rin Amami, fifth member of The Beatmen. As the van ground to a halt he strutted out of his own small space, to take his place beside his group and show the world their power.