Raeka-chan: Hai! Arigato for waiting for this next chapter!
Raebef-chan: Hn.
Disclaimer: as a challenge, I have been forced to involve a slight crossover. Just a warning! Please hang on.
"So much to do, so little time!"
The director was making his rounds, tapping on the doors of the dressing rooms as he went.
"Ah, Chichiri! Glad you're ready! Your on in fifteen!"
"Daaaaa!" replied the monk who was reading his lines.
Moving on, the director opened the next door.
"Nuriko? Are you rea-"
"Ah! Director-sama! I'm soooo excited!" squealed the cross dresser as he latched onto the directors arm.
"No…Nuriko…I can't…feel my fingers…"
"Huh? Oh, sorry director-sama." Nuriko immediately let go of his arm, blushingly slightly.
"No…problem…Nuriko…." He replied, gritting his teeth against the pain. "You're…on in….fifteen." He said as he left.
More cautiously now he opened the next door to find Mitsukake dressed and meditating in his room.
"Mitsukake, we're on in fifteen!" he said, relieved that at least one of the Suzaku warriors was sane. At his words, the doctor opened his eyes. As he took in the harassed director holding his arm, he sighed, raising an eyebrow.
"Nuriko?" He asked, saying his fellow seishi's name as though that was not the first time he had unintentionally injured someone. Taking his arm, Mitsukake closed his eyes and second later…
"Done." The director smiled gratefully, flexing his arm experimentally. After thanking the doctor, he turned and left, closing the door behind him. Pausing in the hallway he gazed down at the multiple dressing rooms he still had to visit and sobbed. "Why me?"
The next room was empty. Sighing, he closed the door bracing himself for the next scene. Grabbing the next handle, he opened it, and…
"Tamahome."
"Miaka."
"Tamahome."
"Miaka."
"Tamahome"
"Miaka."
"Tama-oh! Hi director-sama!" Yelped Miaka, causing the aforesaid director to sweatdrop.
"Yes…ah, well…I…"
"Miaka."
"Shut up a moment Tamahome."
"Uh…yes…umm we go on in fifteen…" He finished lamely. As he left, he closed the door, his face a light shade of red. As he left, Miaka turned to Tamahome, batting her eyes.
"Now…where were we?"
"Miaka."
"Tamahome."
Tasuki sat in a chair, holding his head in his hands.
"How th' hell did I get inta this." He muttered for the second time that day.
A soft knock on his door jerked him back as he stuffed the violin out of sight.
"Hai?" he called as the door opened, and emitted the nervous looking director. The two of them locked gazes, theme music bubbling in the background as they nodded in understanding in a moment of truth.
"Damn. Ya' look like shit."
The music screeched to a stop.
"Thank you, Tasuki."
"Yer welcome." Closing the door, the director sank gratefully into the fifth seishi's chair, pulling a kerchief from his back pocket and wiping his face.
"Tasuki, your on in ten."
The red head sighed, looking down at his feet, his cap set at a rakish angle.
"Does Amiboshi know yet?"
The director looked at him, giving a short nod. Tasuki sighed and broke eyes contact.
"Tasuki, I know you can do it."
With this, he turned , opening the door and closing it behind him. Slowly, Tasuki picked up the violin. Looking in the mirror he gave a fanged grin.
"Well if everybody has ta know, I guess now is as good ah way as any other."
It was time, A hush had descended on the house as the no talking, no cellphones/photography speech rang through the speakers.
The running crew was scrambling everywhere, checking and double checking everything. Techies were pinning bugs on all the actors as up in the rafters, more techs flashed the a-ok as they got into position to man the lights.
Apart from everybody else, a lone figure stood high on a roof in the pre-show darkness. The last of the checks had been administered and the audience was silent.
'Godammit Suzaku! Hope ta hell there all ready for us ta knock th' god-damned sox off em'!" The figure thought.
Then, he raised his bow, slowly pulling his fiddle into his embrace. An air of expectancy, as slowly the bow made contact with the strings. Everyone, the actors waiting for the cue, the techs, the running crew, the director, the audience, and the fiddler, breathed in as the fiddlers's fingers touvhed the fingerboard, setting in the position, a silent vibrato, and then…
Da da da da da da..
Da da da da da da…
Da da da da da da…
Da da da da da da…
…The spot light snapped onto the fiddler, whose cap was low, hiding his face. The actors backstage tried to see but couldn't. On cue, Chichiri/Tevya spoke. His mask was off as the audience was pulled into the story.
Chichiri gazed at the fiddler, arm extended.
"A fiddler on the roof. Sound crazy, no no da? But in our little village of Anetevka, you might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof no da, trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. And how do we keep our balance no da? That I can tell you in a word- tradition no da!"
Backstage, Miaka turned to Nuriko.
"Is he supposed to be saying 'no da'?" she asked. Nuriko only had time to shrug before the line danced onto the stage.
"TRADITION, TRADITION!
TRADITION! TRADITION!"
As rehersed, the Suzaku and Seiryu formed into four separate groups, men, women, sons and daughters. Tomo, near the end turned to Mitsukake who wasnext to him.
"Have you seen the two guest stars yet?" he whispered.
When the doctor shook his head, Tomo winced.
"There crazy," he whispered urgently. "The girls name is Shampoo. She's and insane amazon warrior!"
Try as he might, Mitsukake could not help from sniggering. Before the Seiryu warrior could explain, the doctor was jabbed from behind with something sharp jabbed into the small of his back. Freezing, he tried to remain as still as possible.
"Move stupid man." A female voice hissed form behind him. "Play no wait for you!"
He was released, but before he could turn, his line began to move out onto the stage. The play had just started, and already he knew it might be the longest performance of their lives.