Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Splinters of a Song ❯ = track eleven = ( Chapter 12 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: GoneLoki 
In which our hero finally takes center stage with his friends Touma and Noriko.
Anime/Manga: Gravitation Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.24.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 187 | Status: Work In Progress
In which our hero finally takes center stage with his friends Touma and Noriko.
Anime/Manga: Gravitation Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.24.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 187 | Status: Work In Progress
A.N.: Warnings and disclaimers are still the same. Spoilers from ep eight of the anime are still in effect. Everything in italics are thoughts.
~*~*~*~*
= track eleven =
I managed to catch up to Noriko the next day right before anyone else showed up back stage. She and I talked about her worries and my worries and the reasonings behind how things had happened that led to Nittle Grasper’s splitting up. The main one had always been Touma’s stranger face. I couldn’t face him, so I hid myself more and that caused the cracks to really appear and then, well and then we just fell down. Not that our popularity ever truly waned, but if we couldn’t connect, we couldn’t find the music.
Without the music, there really was no need for Nittle Grasper.
Touma showed up a few minutes late, already looking harassed and briefly enquired about the spat the day before as he hung his hat on Kumagorou’s head. We both told him it was already hashed out and he gave an absentminded nod as he took a seat next to me, let his briefcase drop to the floor and yawned.
"Why do big name shows have to start filming so early in the morning?" Noriko muttered, pouring herself some coffee.
Touma shrugged and unrolled his newspaper, disappearing behind it. A few seconds later, he reached around the paper barrier, snagged a cup of coffee for himself before hiding again behind it. Even morning people needed a boost every now and again I guessed as I rooted around in my bag for something to wear.
I had underdressed for a stage appearance when coming to the studio that morning, having taken the train part way and walked the rest of the way. I didn’t want to be chased by rabid fans – not wanting to get rabies – but ratty jeans and a tee shirt would just not cut it for a comeback appearance. I found my leather pants and silk shirt buried underneath my current manga book and without any ceremony changed my clothing. Neither Noriko nor Touma looked up as I shimmied about butt naked while complaining about wrinkled clothing, so I got dressed with a pout. It was always a bummer when those that I loved most in the world refused to look up at my actions.
I flopped onto the table and grabbed some coffee, nearly knocking over Noriko’s and Touma’s cups in the process. Touma lowered his paper and eyed me like he wasn’t sure what planet I came from and then put his paper away. Like Noriko, he came in his stage clothing, and all he needed was a coat of makeup to be perfect for the cameras.
“Don’t drink too much coffee we don’t want your vocal cords to crack during our takes,” he said, watching me as I gulp down my coffee. I stuck my tongue out at him and groped for the pot to refresh my cup. I hated early morning TV filming; too much rules and not enough coffee to get through them. Watching me for a moment, Touma reached over, taking the coffee pot away from me.
My protests about his fluffy evil ways did not even get started when the makeup and hair crew appeared at the doorway bristling with implements of their professions. When we preformed on stage, we usually did our own makeup and hair, but the lights using in the studios were different and needed a different kind of pampering to look good for the cameras. Used to the treatment, I sat still enough for my two people as they flew around me with their products and once I emerged from the haze caused by various sprays, Touma shooed me off to explore the stage area.
I took Kumagorou with me so he could see what it looked like up on stage and started wrestling with him. I was in the middle of Kumagorou’s super spin slap when Shuichi and his band appeared, all makeup covered and ready for their part of the show. I waved and so did Kumagorou, and wished them some good luck as well. Shuichi looked very happy and waved back until K leaned in close and started whispering to him. I didn’t see what else happened for that was when Touma appeared and tugged me off stage because Bad Luck was going to break the stage in first.
I wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea to let them break the stage, but I wasn’t the one who would pay for a new stage, so I went down to hang around Touma and Noriko while Bad Luck played. I didn’t really listen to them talk since I was more interested in listening to Shuichi as he sang. And boy did he sing. It sounded a lot better than the last time he was singing live, like he gained a whole bunch of confidence over the past few weeks. Maybe Eiri was good for him. Maybe they have worked everything out and they are doing well and I didn’t need to worry any more.
They were good and I was bouncing in place after they were done, waiting for them to settle down before I flew in to pounce Shuichi and get his autograph. I dodged past a couple of people carrying ladders and came to a halt at his side, crowing excitedly about how cool he was and how much I needed his autograph. Shuichi looked at me like I had a disease and pulled away saying that he wasn’t sure about giving me his autograph. I started sniffling at that response and tried to bride him with an autograph of my own and one of my rings, but before we could have made any headway, Noriko came to drag me away. Being the charmer that I am, I reacted by yelling, flailing my arms about and crying about Shuichi being my friend. Noriko muttered under her breath about something and pushed me into Touma. He took a moment to straighten my shirt and tugged Kumagorou out of my hands before handing me a mic. Then the lights dimmed and the announcers started talking.
Mentioning our name was the trigger for the guitar part. I felt the music stroke my spine, settling in my nerves but managed one last grin and a tiny wave to Shuichi before letting it consume me just in time for my cue. I moved. I sang. Making love to the sound, building it up around me and sharing it with Touma and Noriko. They gave me the rhythm and I followed, my voice pouring out and filling the air.
No thinking.
Dance.
No past.
Lights blurring the lines.
No future.
The beat masking all sounds and needs.
Just this here.
Don’t let it stop.
In the music.
I’m alive here. I. Am. Alive.
We finished the set and the announcers came up on stage. Still floating on the echoes, I acted normally around them, answering and posing with Noriko and Touma. After another commercial break, we played another set, did a few more question and answers and then we pulled out the big guns. Touma and Noriko had looked at some of my American stuff and talked me into using one of them for a finale but this time, we gave it the Nittle Grasper treatment. I think we floored the announcers and I knew we probably gave the smack down on anyone that thought we were just old has-beens.
We were still flying when we got back to our dressing room. Noriko was bouncing off the walls, trying to dial up her hubby and kids while talking a mile a minute about our next engagements. Touma whipped out a notebook and was scratching down cords with a fury I hadn’t seen in a long time, his eyebrows furrowed and his tongue peeking out from between his pink lips. I was working too, writing a next set of lyrics in Japanese of all things, basing them off of my solo piece we’d just preformed.
Noriko ripped my sketchbook out of my hands and plopped in front of Touma, who started putting the words into the frames he was making and I leaned over, humming the melody inside of my head. Noriko draped herself over my back - her lilac hair falling over my collarbone - and Touma leaned back against me - the scent of his aftershave and sweat mixing together making my throat dry – and we connected together, the music still pulling between us. It was far more intimate than sex, this sharing, I wanted to hold it together, press it against my chest and never let go.
Unfortunately, the outside world intruder in the form of my former manager as he banged into the room, took one look at the three of us and shook his head. He had seen us do even stranger stuff while still running high from the stage, so I wasn’t sure why he gave us that look, but it had its desired effect. The music broke apart and we pulled away from each other reluctantly. Touma closed his notebook and my sketchbook, glanced at K and folded his hands together.
"Is there something that you want, K-san?" he asked. I grabbed Kumagorou and started chewing on an ear.
"That was some kind of performance you three gave; I must congratulate you on not losing your touch," K replied, glancing at me. I inched away from the kill zone in case the American pulled out his Glock and started shooting Touma.
"Thank you," Touma said, his smile bland. "I must say that you have certainly made Bad Luck perform much better than I had hoped. But that is not the real reason why you are here, is it, K-san?"
I had inched as far from the kill zone as I could while still staying in the same room. Noriko had also taken the hint and was huddling against me and trying to get me hold Kumagorou out like a shield. Any minute now, k would start shooting someone. I could feel it in my bones.
K grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, switching to English. "You gave Shuichi a heart attack."
"What did he say?" Noriko asked me. I screwed up my face trying to imagine me giving anyone a heart attack. Giving them wet panties, I could see, but a heart attack?
"Shindo-san? Don't be ridiculous, K. I am sure that the boy is just fine."
"He broke down and cried while you three were up on stage," K said, switching back to Japanese. Noriko relaxed against me and sighed to herself even while I tried to swallow Kumagorou's head while waiting for the bullets to start flying.
"I see," Touma said, frowning just a little. "Well, I suppose he can have tomorrow off. It was probably just the excitement and exhausting catching up to him."
K frowned as well, but unlike Touma’s frowns, one could see that he was upset about something. Touma raised an eyebrow and K nodded once before leaving the room.
~*~*~*~*
= track eleven =
I managed to catch up to Noriko the next day right before anyone else showed up back stage. She and I talked about her worries and my worries and the reasonings behind how things had happened that led to Nittle Grasper’s splitting up. The main one had always been Touma’s stranger face. I couldn’t face him, so I hid myself more and that caused the cracks to really appear and then, well and then we just fell down. Not that our popularity ever truly waned, but if we couldn’t connect, we couldn’t find the music.
Without the music, there really was no need for Nittle Grasper.
Touma showed up a few minutes late, already looking harassed and briefly enquired about the spat the day before as he hung his hat on Kumagorou’s head. We both told him it was already hashed out and he gave an absentminded nod as he took a seat next to me, let his briefcase drop to the floor and yawned.
"Why do big name shows have to start filming so early in the morning?" Noriko muttered, pouring herself some coffee.
Touma shrugged and unrolled his newspaper, disappearing behind it. A few seconds later, he reached around the paper barrier, snagged a cup of coffee for himself before hiding again behind it. Even morning people needed a boost every now and again I guessed as I rooted around in my bag for something to wear.
I had underdressed for a stage appearance when coming to the studio that morning, having taken the train part way and walked the rest of the way. I didn’t want to be chased by rabid fans – not wanting to get rabies – but ratty jeans and a tee shirt would just not cut it for a comeback appearance. I found my leather pants and silk shirt buried underneath my current manga book and without any ceremony changed my clothing. Neither Noriko nor Touma looked up as I shimmied about butt naked while complaining about wrinkled clothing, so I got dressed with a pout. It was always a bummer when those that I loved most in the world refused to look up at my actions.
I flopped onto the table and grabbed some coffee, nearly knocking over Noriko’s and Touma’s cups in the process. Touma lowered his paper and eyed me like he wasn’t sure what planet I came from and then put his paper away. Like Noriko, he came in his stage clothing, and all he needed was a coat of makeup to be perfect for the cameras.
“Don’t drink too much coffee we don’t want your vocal cords to crack during our takes,” he said, watching me as I gulp down my coffee. I stuck my tongue out at him and groped for the pot to refresh my cup. I hated early morning TV filming; too much rules and not enough coffee to get through them. Watching me for a moment, Touma reached over, taking the coffee pot away from me.
My protests about his fluffy evil ways did not even get started when the makeup and hair crew appeared at the doorway bristling with implements of their professions. When we preformed on stage, we usually did our own makeup and hair, but the lights using in the studios were different and needed a different kind of pampering to look good for the cameras. Used to the treatment, I sat still enough for my two people as they flew around me with their products and once I emerged from the haze caused by various sprays, Touma shooed me off to explore the stage area.
I took Kumagorou with me so he could see what it looked like up on stage and started wrestling with him. I was in the middle of Kumagorou’s super spin slap when Shuichi and his band appeared, all makeup covered and ready for their part of the show. I waved and so did Kumagorou, and wished them some good luck as well. Shuichi looked very happy and waved back until K leaned in close and started whispering to him. I didn’t see what else happened for that was when Touma appeared and tugged me off stage because Bad Luck was going to break the stage in first.
I wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea to let them break the stage, but I wasn’t the one who would pay for a new stage, so I went down to hang around Touma and Noriko while Bad Luck played. I didn’t really listen to them talk since I was more interested in listening to Shuichi as he sang. And boy did he sing. It sounded a lot better than the last time he was singing live, like he gained a whole bunch of confidence over the past few weeks. Maybe Eiri was good for him. Maybe they have worked everything out and they are doing well and I didn’t need to worry any more.
They were good and I was bouncing in place after they were done, waiting for them to settle down before I flew in to pounce Shuichi and get his autograph. I dodged past a couple of people carrying ladders and came to a halt at his side, crowing excitedly about how cool he was and how much I needed his autograph. Shuichi looked at me like I had a disease and pulled away saying that he wasn’t sure about giving me his autograph. I started sniffling at that response and tried to bride him with an autograph of my own and one of my rings, but before we could have made any headway, Noriko came to drag me away. Being the charmer that I am, I reacted by yelling, flailing my arms about and crying about Shuichi being my friend. Noriko muttered under her breath about something and pushed me into Touma. He took a moment to straighten my shirt and tugged Kumagorou out of my hands before handing me a mic. Then the lights dimmed and the announcers started talking.
Mentioning our name was the trigger for the guitar part. I felt the music stroke my spine, settling in my nerves but managed one last grin and a tiny wave to Shuichi before letting it consume me just in time for my cue. I moved. I sang. Making love to the sound, building it up around me and sharing it with Touma and Noriko. They gave me the rhythm and I followed, my voice pouring out and filling the air.
No thinking.
Dance.
No past.
Lights blurring the lines.
No future.
The beat masking all sounds and needs.
Just this here.
Don’t let it stop.
In the music.
I’m alive here. I. Am. Alive.
We finished the set and the announcers came up on stage. Still floating on the echoes, I acted normally around them, answering and posing with Noriko and Touma. After another commercial break, we played another set, did a few more question and answers and then we pulled out the big guns. Touma and Noriko had looked at some of my American stuff and talked me into using one of them for a finale but this time, we gave it the Nittle Grasper treatment. I think we floored the announcers and I knew we probably gave the smack down on anyone that thought we were just old has-beens.
We were still flying when we got back to our dressing room. Noriko was bouncing off the walls, trying to dial up her hubby and kids while talking a mile a minute about our next engagements. Touma whipped out a notebook and was scratching down cords with a fury I hadn’t seen in a long time, his eyebrows furrowed and his tongue peeking out from between his pink lips. I was working too, writing a next set of lyrics in Japanese of all things, basing them off of my solo piece we’d just preformed.
Noriko ripped my sketchbook out of my hands and plopped in front of Touma, who started putting the words into the frames he was making and I leaned over, humming the melody inside of my head. Noriko draped herself over my back - her lilac hair falling over my collarbone - and Touma leaned back against me - the scent of his aftershave and sweat mixing together making my throat dry – and we connected together, the music still pulling between us. It was far more intimate than sex, this sharing, I wanted to hold it together, press it against my chest and never let go.
Unfortunately, the outside world intruder in the form of my former manager as he banged into the room, took one look at the three of us and shook his head. He had seen us do even stranger stuff while still running high from the stage, so I wasn’t sure why he gave us that look, but it had its desired effect. The music broke apart and we pulled away from each other reluctantly. Touma closed his notebook and my sketchbook, glanced at K and folded his hands together.
"Is there something that you want, K-san?" he asked. I grabbed Kumagorou and started chewing on an ear.
"That was some kind of performance you three gave; I must congratulate you on not losing your touch," K replied, glancing at me. I inched away from the kill zone in case the American pulled out his Glock and started shooting Touma.
"Thank you," Touma said, his smile bland. "I must say that you have certainly made Bad Luck perform much better than I had hoped. But that is not the real reason why you are here, is it, K-san?"
I had inched as far from the kill zone as I could while still staying in the same room. Noriko had also taken the hint and was huddling against me and trying to get me hold Kumagorou out like a shield. Any minute now, k would start shooting someone. I could feel it in my bones.
K grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, switching to English. "You gave Shuichi a heart attack."
"What did he say?" Noriko asked me. I screwed up my face trying to imagine me giving anyone a heart attack. Giving them wet panties, I could see, but a heart attack?
"Shindo-san? Don't be ridiculous, K. I am sure that the boy is just fine."
"He broke down and cried while you three were up on stage," K said, switching back to Japanese. Noriko relaxed against me and sighed to herself even while I tried to swallow Kumagorou's head while waiting for the bullets to start flying.
"I see," Touma said, frowning just a little. "Well, I suppose he can have tomorrow off. It was probably just the excitement and exhausting catching up to him."
K frowned as well, but unlike Touma’s frowns, one could see that he was upset about something. Touma raised an eyebrow and K nodded once before leaving the room.