Fan Fiction ❯ Kakawarazu Oshi (In Spite of Authority) ❯ Kakawarasu Oshi ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Violet_Nyte 
First arc
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama / Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.15.2002 | Pages: 4 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 229 | Status: Completed
First arc
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama / Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.15.2002 | Pages: 4 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 229 | Status: Completed
LSE // 6-10-02
(Kakawarazu Oshi - In Spite of Authority)
rated: PG - mild violence, language
shounen-ai/yaoi
Kakawarazu Oshi
Shoukin's Convention Hall bursted with young female fans and the random
assortment of other guests: shy young men and wary parents who'd rather
be elsewhere. It was a smaller audience, a smaller town, than he was
use to, but Kimura accepted the change gratefully, even though the back
of his mind worried. Then again, it always worried. Nerves rushed
through him, the pre-show jitters he wouldn't be able to shake until
he faced the crowd... a glance to the nearby clock gave him ten minutes
until show time.
"Yas?" He asked suddenly, turning away from his crowd-watching post
aside the speakers. Troubled brown eyes searched the milling of people
behind him, mostly technicians. "Yasun?" He voice trembled on the verge
of panic. Kimura took a deep breath to calm himself, shoving those
worries back where they belonged, aside and out of focus.
"Check it out, Kim, T-shirts!" Yasun called, his slightly-built form
easily manuevering over to the slimmer one hidden away beside the
speakers. He waved the shirt like trophy, proudly displaying it.
Kimura smiled, "I like this one...they used the Osaka promotion photo."
He critically eyed his likeness across the shirt's front, "My hair's
longer now...should I cut it back to this length?"
"Nah, the fans dig the long hair. Makes you look prettier, or whatever.
Are you all ready for the show? Yukari'll skin me if you're not."
Yukari would no doubt be in her own pre-show zen, but then that's why
she was one of the best managers.
"I think so. Makeup wanted another go at it, but I dodged. Too much
makeup and I'll look unnatural."
Yasun grunted, a noncommital sound, and scanned the audience, "Wow.
That's only..." steel blue eyes squinted, "a thousand people?"
"Yukari said it's sold out, but the Convention Hall only seats one
thousand thirty-two." He always had to know how many came. How many
empty seats.
"I feel sorry for the 1033th fan."
Kimura smiled, jitters calmed by Yasun's serenity. Nothing shook Yasun,
he was always so stable. Unlike himself... "I better find Yukari."
"Hawari-san, where have you hidden my darling...ah!" Summoned by
thought, Yukari grabbed Kimura's arm, "Come, come, I promised Mira
Motoshi a minute for her magazine, you know, the one that ran the cover
spread on you last summer?" Yukari easily parted a path for the
opposite side of the stage where the other half of the backstage crew,
reporters, the odd fan or two and frantic assistants. He hated this
side and always waited elsewhere if he could, but Yukari insisted and
Yukari was one of the best managers...
He shot one last glance to Yasun, trailed along until the halfway mark,
where he stopped and gave one last grin before halting. They can't
find out about Hawari-san, Yukari always said.
"Motoshi-san, you must hurry through this, I cannot deny the fans their
Kim!"
Mira Motoshi offered a bubble-gum pink lipstick smile and quick nod,
which Kimura returned. "Kim, our readers are just dying to know which
lucky lady holds your heart. What can you tell them?"
Kimura ran the questions through the mental database of answers Yukari
drilled into him and smiled, "My fans and my music are the only things
that hold my heart right now, Motoshi-san, but when the right lady
comes along a I hope she'll embrace my fans and my music."
"Most of your songs deal with love, where do you get the material?"
Yukari started to deflect, but he casually shifted to get her
attention, to let her know he could answer. "Everyone knows about love,
Motoshi-san, it's all around us. I get my inspiration from many, many
things, why, your magazine often writes about love!"
"Five minutes, minna!"
Yukari took Kimura's arm, "We better get you ready!"
"Thank you for your time, Kim."
"My deepest grattitude to you and your readers, Motoshi-san."
Yukari hurried her star client to the wings and made pretense of last
minute touch-ups. "I was going tell you after the show, but now is a
good of time as any. Listen, Kim, I need you to think about your image
more. I think you should consider Hawari-san very carefully and think,
I'm only asking you to think, about that whole thing."
"Can't we just tell them the truth, Yukari? I don't like hiding it. It
just doesn't seem right."
"Kim, darling, your an idol! Your image will suffer if it comes out
your gay. You need those screaming little girls to adore you."
"My music..."
"Please! Kim, darling, no one ever made it as an idol based upon
talent! Not in this age. Not another word, no, it isn't even an
option!" Yukari nodded firmly and gave him a slight push towards the
stage, "Shoukin's waiting."
-------------------------------------------------------- -------------
Two and a half hours later, body exhausted and voice worn out from
songs, Kimura all but collapsed into the vanity chair. The face
reflected back at him from the dressing room mirror was clean of
makeup, and faintly damp from his nice, long shower. His hair shone
almost a blue-black and hung long and wet to almost his shoulders. He
hadn't seen Yasun since before the show, and a ball of anxiety was
forming in his chest. Had Yukari carried out her hinted threats? Did
she tell Yasun something horrible?
Kimura stood, frustrations vented as his kicked the frail chair, which
spun across the room to collide with the sofa. He had become a singer
because he loved music, not to be an idol! He didn't want to be just
another bishounen! "I have talent," he told his doubt reflection, "I
didn't just get this far because I'm pretty." His reflection wasn't
convinced. Neither was he. "Dammit!" He kicked the carpet. It wasn't
enough.
The mirror shattered beneath his fist, shards of silver falling across
the smooth vanity surface, red streaks coating the edges. He stared at
his hand in shock, a sob escaping before he could stop it. One, two
steps back, eyes locked on the twisted remains of the mirror.
"Kim!"
He wirled, eyes widening. The door was locked, they couldn't get in.
They being the reporters, the prying eyes that never left him peace.
They must have heard. They'd tell everyone. They'd tell Yukari.
"Kim! Open the door!"
He nearly fainted with relief, it was only Yasun. Which meant Yukari
hadn't chased off his love. Kimura quickly unlocked the door and opened
it, but stopped there, frozen by the smears of crimson across the door
knob. He didn't hear Yasun's oath, he didn't notice when the door was
hastily shut, once more locking out prying eyes. Yasun collected the
shaking young man into his arms. "What happened, Kim?" He whispered
against the soft, ebony hair.
"Nothing."
Yasun pulled away slightly, taking the injured hand in both his own,
"Doesn't look like nothing." He released Kimura and crossed the room to
the connected bathroom in a few, quick strides. "The show was great,
Kim, everyone was really pleased."
"I know."
Yasun raised a questioning eyebrow, "Come here and clean your hand
off." Yasun eyed the damage to the mirror.
"I don't want to," maybe a scarred hand would un-bishounen him. Maybe
they'd respect his talent.
The older man sighed, "I don't care, come wash it off so I can bandage
you up. There's probably mir-" he stopped talking, suddenly unsure if
Kimura was aware how he'd hurt himself. At least, Yasun readily assumed
Kimura had broken the mirror, a glance to the glimmering shards
reaffirmed his suspisions.
Kimura silently offered out his hand for tending, he felt numb to the
whole damn thing. "Yeow!" he shook free of his wollowing and tried to
jerk free his hand, but Yasun had a firm grip. Mirror fragments fell
into the sink.
"Your next gig's not until August, since Osaka had that earthquake.
Yukari says you've got the whole month of July off."
"Yukari said that."
Yasun's voice lightened, lifted by the fact that Kimura didn't seem
quite so spaced out. "Yeah. I was thinking we could take a trip
somewhere. Somewhere far away, like...Sweden."
"Sweden? Yas, what's in Sweden?"
"Okay, what about...France?"
Kimura smiled, "Yeah, okay. France."
--------------------------------------------------------- -------------
"I won't allow it."
Kimura flexed his bandaged right hand, dimly aware of the discomfort
doing so caused. "You're not the boss of me, Yukari."
"Listen to what you're saying, Kim. Things are already bad enough
without you running off on some romantic getaway! What if a reporter
catches you and Hawari-san? What am I to do when the lable execs call
up here demanding to know why their hottest pop star's on the cover of
every tabloid in the country? You can't go. Stay here in Tokyo, I'll
set you up somewhere safe."
"I'm tired of denying it, Yukari! I'm going to France with Yasun."
Yukari stepped around from her oak wood desk, the elegant navy business
suit in sharp dischord to the expression of loathing on her face,
"You're nothing without me, Kim. I made you, and I can destroy you."
Kimura took a wary step back, off centered by the abrupt shift in
Yukari's personality. This wasn't the Yukari he knew. "Either you
accept me as I am...or...or I'll get a new manager!"
Yukari blinked at the ultimatum delivered to her. True, the boy had
some talent and was doing well on the charts, but such a scandal would
ruin her portfolio. "Don't do this, Kim. You'll ruin your career."
"I'm through listening to you! What do I have to do to make this final.
Any papers I need to sign?"
"No...I'll take care of it. Go on your tryst, ruin yourself. When
you're broke and desperate, don't bother coming to Yukari. And shut
the door on you're way out." Yukari threw herself back into her leather
chair.
He made it to the lobby before the truth of his actions caught up with
him. Overwhelmed, Kimura sat abruptly in the nearest chair. He'd done
it. He'd just fired one of the best managers in the business. He'd ruin
his career he-
Through the glass door he could see Yasun waiting against a street
sign, casually out of place among the stylish office buildings and
pedestrians. Yas, unaware of the events taking place inside, but no
doubt he'd agree with Kimura's decision.
Kimura had been just starting college, Yasun was almost done. Yasun had
been secure in a normal, heterosexual lifestyle and was alarmed to
find himself growing attracted to slim, raven-haired beauty assigned
as a tutor. It was Yas who had finally convinced Kimura to persue a
career in singing, and it was Yas who had given up his own promising
position in law-inforcement. It was Yas who held him together.
He owed Yasun so much more than he could give. He owed it to Yas to be
strong and face the world freely, together, no matter what it would do
to his image.
"How'd it go, Kim?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Notes:
This is my first attempt at shounen-ai! ^^ I don't think it came off
too badly, if a bit un-citrus. (*sniff*) I really like the characters
I've created and plan to feature Kim and Yas in many more shounen-ai
stories. Both are completely fictional and created using nothing I can
think of as a base.
It may seem odd that everyone addresses Kimura by a nickname, Kim. I'd
just like to clarify that Kim is not only a shortening of the given
name Kimura, but also a stage name created for his singing career.
I'd also like to briefly mention that I've purposely twisted the Japan
in the story to homophobic, like the United States. This is a liberty
I've taken as the author.
original story copyright 2002
LSE - "Violet" (ManzokuBiscuit@aol.com)
violetnyte.fallenweb.net
(Kakawarazu Oshi - In Spite of Authority)
rated: PG - mild violence, language
shounen-ai/yaoi
Kakawarazu Oshi
Shoukin's Convention Hall bursted with young female fans and the random
assortment of other guests: shy young men and wary parents who'd rather
be elsewhere. It was a smaller audience, a smaller town, than he was
use to, but Kimura accepted the change gratefully, even though the back
of his mind worried. Then again, it always worried. Nerves rushed
through him, the pre-show jitters he wouldn't be able to shake until
he faced the crowd... a glance to the nearby clock gave him ten minutes
until show time.
"Yas?" He asked suddenly, turning away from his crowd-watching post
aside the speakers. Troubled brown eyes searched the milling of people
behind him, mostly technicians. "Yasun?" He voice trembled on the verge
of panic. Kimura took a deep breath to calm himself, shoving those
worries back where they belonged, aside and out of focus.
"Check it out, Kim, T-shirts!" Yasun called, his slightly-built form
easily manuevering over to the slimmer one hidden away beside the
speakers. He waved the shirt like trophy, proudly displaying it.
Kimura smiled, "I like this one...they used the Osaka promotion photo."
He critically eyed his likeness across the shirt's front, "My hair's
longer now...should I cut it back to this length?"
"Nah, the fans dig the long hair. Makes you look prettier, or whatever.
Are you all ready for the show? Yukari'll skin me if you're not."
Yukari would no doubt be in her own pre-show zen, but then that's why
she was one of the best managers.
"I think so. Makeup wanted another go at it, but I dodged. Too much
makeup and I'll look unnatural."
Yasun grunted, a noncommital sound, and scanned the audience, "Wow.
That's only..." steel blue eyes squinted, "a thousand people?"
"Yukari said it's sold out, but the Convention Hall only seats one
thousand thirty-two." He always had to know how many came. How many
empty seats.
"I feel sorry for the 1033th fan."
Kimura smiled, jitters calmed by Yasun's serenity. Nothing shook Yasun,
he was always so stable. Unlike himself... "I better find Yukari."
"Hawari-san, where have you hidden my darling...ah!" Summoned by
thought, Yukari grabbed Kimura's arm, "Come, come, I promised Mira
Motoshi a minute for her magazine, you know, the one that ran the cover
spread on you last summer?" Yukari easily parted a path for the
opposite side of the stage where the other half of the backstage crew,
reporters, the odd fan or two and frantic assistants. He hated this
side and always waited elsewhere if he could, but Yukari insisted and
Yukari was one of the best managers...
He shot one last glance to Yasun, trailed along until the halfway mark,
where he stopped and gave one last grin before halting. They can't
find out about Hawari-san, Yukari always said.
"Motoshi-san, you must hurry through this, I cannot deny the fans their
Kim!"
Mira Motoshi offered a bubble-gum pink lipstick smile and quick nod,
which Kimura returned. "Kim, our readers are just dying to know which
lucky lady holds your heart. What can you tell them?"
Kimura ran the questions through the mental database of answers Yukari
drilled into him and smiled, "My fans and my music are the only things
that hold my heart right now, Motoshi-san, but when the right lady
comes along a I hope she'll embrace my fans and my music."
"Most of your songs deal with love, where do you get the material?"
Yukari started to deflect, but he casually shifted to get her
attention, to let her know he could answer. "Everyone knows about love,
Motoshi-san, it's all around us. I get my inspiration from many, many
things, why, your magazine often writes about love!"
"Five minutes, minna!"
Yukari took Kimura's arm, "We better get you ready!"
"Thank you for your time, Kim."
"My deepest grattitude to you and your readers, Motoshi-san."
Yukari hurried her star client to the wings and made pretense of last
minute touch-ups. "I was going tell you after the show, but now is a
good of time as any. Listen, Kim, I need you to think about your image
more. I think you should consider Hawari-san very carefully and think,
I'm only asking you to think, about that whole thing."
"Can't we just tell them the truth, Yukari? I don't like hiding it. It
just doesn't seem right."
"Kim, darling, your an idol! Your image will suffer if it comes out
your gay. You need those screaming little girls to adore you."
"My music..."
"Please! Kim, darling, no one ever made it as an idol based upon
talent! Not in this age. Not another word, no, it isn't even an
option!" Yukari nodded firmly and gave him a slight push towards the
stage, "Shoukin's waiting."
-------------------------------------------------------- -------------
Two and a half hours later, body exhausted and voice worn out from
songs, Kimura all but collapsed into the vanity chair. The face
reflected back at him from the dressing room mirror was clean of
makeup, and faintly damp from his nice, long shower. His hair shone
almost a blue-black and hung long and wet to almost his shoulders. He
hadn't seen Yasun since before the show, and a ball of anxiety was
forming in his chest. Had Yukari carried out her hinted threats? Did
she tell Yasun something horrible?
Kimura stood, frustrations vented as his kicked the frail chair, which
spun across the room to collide with the sofa. He had become a singer
because he loved music, not to be an idol! He didn't want to be just
another bishounen! "I have talent," he told his doubt reflection, "I
didn't just get this far because I'm pretty." His reflection wasn't
convinced. Neither was he. "Dammit!" He kicked the carpet. It wasn't
enough.
The mirror shattered beneath his fist, shards of silver falling across
the smooth vanity surface, red streaks coating the edges. He stared at
his hand in shock, a sob escaping before he could stop it. One, two
steps back, eyes locked on the twisted remains of the mirror.
"Kim!"
He wirled, eyes widening. The door was locked, they couldn't get in.
They being the reporters, the prying eyes that never left him peace.
They must have heard. They'd tell everyone. They'd tell Yukari.
"Kim! Open the door!"
He nearly fainted with relief, it was only Yasun. Which meant Yukari
hadn't chased off his love. Kimura quickly unlocked the door and opened
it, but stopped there, frozen by the smears of crimson across the door
knob. He didn't hear Yasun's oath, he didn't notice when the door was
hastily shut, once more locking out prying eyes. Yasun collected the
shaking young man into his arms. "What happened, Kim?" He whispered
against the soft, ebony hair.
"Nothing."
Yasun pulled away slightly, taking the injured hand in both his own,
"Doesn't look like nothing." He released Kimura and crossed the room to
the connected bathroom in a few, quick strides. "The show was great,
Kim, everyone was really pleased."
"I know."
Yasun raised a questioning eyebrow, "Come here and clean your hand
off." Yasun eyed the damage to the mirror.
"I don't want to," maybe a scarred hand would un-bishounen him. Maybe
they'd respect his talent.
The older man sighed, "I don't care, come wash it off so I can bandage
you up. There's probably mir-" he stopped talking, suddenly unsure if
Kimura was aware how he'd hurt himself. At least, Yasun readily assumed
Kimura had broken the mirror, a glance to the glimmering shards
reaffirmed his suspisions.
Kimura silently offered out his hand for tending, he felt numb to the
whole damn thing. "Yeow!" he shook free of his wollowing and tried to
jerk free his hand, but Yasun had a firm grip. Mirror fragments fell
into the sink.
"Your next gig's not until August, since Osaka had that earthquake.
Yukari says you've got the whole month of July off."
"Yukari said that."
Yasun's voice lightened, lifted by the fact that Kimura didn't seem
quite so spaced out. "Yeah. I was thinking we could take a trip
somewhere. Somewhere far away, like...Sweden."
"Sweden? Yas, what's in Sweden?"
"Okay, what about...France?"
Kimura smiled, "Yeah, okay. France."
--------------------------------------------------------- -------------
"I won't allow it."
Kimura flexed his bandaged right hand, dimly aware of the discomfort
doing so caused. "You're not the boss of me, Yukari."
"Listen to what you're saying, Kim. Things are already bad enough
without you running off on some romantic getaway! What if a reporter
catches you and Hawari-san? What am I to do when the lable execs call
up here demanding to know why their hottest pop star's on the cover of
every tabloid in the country? You can't go. Stay here in Tokyo, I'll
set you up somewhere safe."
"I'm tired of denying it, Yukari! I'm going to France with Yasun."
Yukari stepped around from her oak wood desk, the elegant navy business
suit in sharp dischord to the expression of loathing on her face,
"You're nothing without me, Kim. I made you, and I can destroy you."
Kimura took a wary step back, off centered by the abrupt shift in
Yukari's personality. This wasn't the Yukari he knew. "Either you
accept me as I am...or...or I'll get a new manager!"
Yukari blinked at the ultimatum delivered to her. True, the boy had
some talent and was doing well on the charts, but such a scandal would
ruin her portfolio. "Don't do this, Kim. You'll ruin your career."
"I'm through listening to you! What do I have to do to make this final.
Any papers I need to sign?"
"No...I'll take care of it. Go on your tryst, ruin yourself. When
you're broke and desperate, don't bother coming to Yukari. And shut
the door on you're way out." Yukari threw herself back into her leather
chair.
He made it to the lobby before the truth of his actions caught up with
him. Overwhelmed, Kimura sat abruptly in the nearest chair. He'd done
it. He'd just fired one of the best managers in the business. He'd ruin
his career he-
Through the glass door he could see Yasun waiting against a street
sign, casually out of place among the stylish office buildings and
pedestrians. Yas, unaware of the events taking place inside, but no
doubt he'd agree with Kimura's decision.
Kimura had been just starting college, Yasun was almost done. Yasun had
been secure in a normal, heterosexual lifestyle and was alarmed to
find himself growing attracted to slim, raven-haired beauty assigned
as a tutor. It was Yas who had finally convinced Kimura to persue a
career in singing, and it was Yas who had given up his own promising
position in law-inforcement. It was Yas who held him together.
He owed Yasun so much more than he could give. He owed it to Yas to be
strong and face the world freely, together, no matter what it would do
to his image.
"How'd it go, Kim?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Notes:
This is my first attempt at shounen-ai! ^^ I don't think it came off
too badly, if a bit un-citrus. (*sniff*) I really like the characters
I've created and plan to feature Kim and Yas in many more shounen-ai
stories. Both are completely fictional and created using nothing I can
think of as a base.
It may seem odd that everyone addresses Kimura by a nickname, Kim. I'd
just like to clarify that Kim is not only a shortening of the given
name Kimura, but also a stage name created for his singing career.
I'd also like to briefly mention that I've purposely twisted the Japan
in the story to homophobic, like the United States. This is a liberty
I've taken as the author.
original story copyright 2002
LSE - "Violet" (ManzokuBiscuit@aol.com)
violetnyte.fallenweb.net