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wildfireblossomTitle: Being an Idol
Fandom: Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Origina
Rating: PG
Character(s): OC Ichirou
Word Count: 678 words
Summary: Ichirou's introduction to being an idol.
Notes: While taking a break from a SubKam RP, I wrote this for a PMMM RP. That's why it's tagged as PMMM even though there's really nothing about it in this intro. Ichiriou is just another talented idol.
Every single night for the last week had lead up to this moment. Inhale, exhale. Inhale again but this time with fire rising in his veins; Ichirou could do this. Ichirou was one of the top competing idols in all of Japan. Well, he currently had to work harder because this particular concert was clear on the other side of the nation from Tokyo. Out in Kyushu was hardly the sticks, but it was far from nightlife back in Kanto. Tokyo—the highlight of all night life and corporate idol talent. The Place where the rising sun really did shine the most of the cream of the crop performers. He always did his best to be noticed on tours outside Tokyo.
Ichirou could hear his fans awaiting his arrival. The clamor of rapid clapping and screeches penetrated even to the back hallways. He even imagined the hypnotic swing of glowsticks swinging in the audience him like a million fireflies dancing to his songs; he wanted to swing along with the beat of that sound for the time being, bask in the wondrous grace and delight of the light. So if he wanted the solitary confines of the VIP section for his nerves, he would have retreated back in and soaked in his sound-proof dressing room. But he didn't. Ichirou's manager had told him once to ignore something so simple from the crowd—with his weaker attendance rates to his concerts he could not afford screw-ups, and he would not allow himself to lip sing for anything—but he could not help it.
Ichirou squeezed his eyelids together, leaving heavily against the wall. Luckily, he was alone while his manager helped tackle the procedures dragging along on the other side of the building. Tickets, lightning, and general mayhem storming the gates. The size of his fanbase was the main concern nowadays, and he supposed that the line had dwindled as much as he feared Of course, he had a cult of fans that rabidly attended his concerts with enthusiasm that paralleled on psychopathic. But all things were ethereal for an idol, especially those critical numbers that plummeted between showtimes. Ichirou could not afford losing even another disgusted fan un interested in buying tickets or merch.
"At first I thought I was getting too old for this, but look how many singers are my age. Maybe I'll take a short break after tonight," Ichirou muttered to himself.
Tugging at his shirt sleeve, black hair softly cascaded over wide eyes as he checked his watch. Ten minutes until time to run out on the stage. And, yes, he supposed he was hiding from the staff that would urge him to get ready. Certainly, he would have hell for this act of rebellion later, not being present for his makeup artist to apply last minute coatings and the special effects people to blather on about the lightning issues... He took a dragging breath once more.
"Someone will shine in my place," he muttered, a slight sadness washing over him at the thought, "but audiences eat up major comebacks without a second thought. I should get through tonight only and see what the future holds."
Weeks ago he had accepted this sad realization. But the tide had swept in and gone, swept away like a sandcastle on a beach. He had built a magnificent castle sturdy as can be with a gate of steel keeping it afloat through the deadliest of storms. Slowly, the waters of time had regretfully lapped at his creation and he, neglectfully not taking it completely serious at first, had let his accomplishments run into the ground until only a smooth surface remained. Perhaps he would have to build from the ground up with a brand new image to replace the old one. Strange still... Thinking that much, Ichirou winced. Maybe it had not been something as flimsy as a sand castle. It felt like his rivals had taken a bulldozer to his tall tower and smashed it down. Down to a burning pit and stomped on the pieces.
Fandom: Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Origina
Rating: PG
Character(s): OC Ichirou
Word Count: 678 words
Summary: Ichirou's introduction to being an idol.
Notes: While taking a break from a SubKam RP, I wrote this for a PMMM RP. That's why it's tagged as PMMM even though there's really nothing about it in this intro. Ichiriou is just another talented idol.
Every single night for the last week had lead up to this moment. Inhale, exhale. Inhale again but this time with fire rising in his veins; Ichirou could do this. Ichirou was one of the top competing idols in all of Japan. Well, he currently had to work harder because this particular concert was clear on the other side of the nation from Tokyo. Out in Kyushu was hardly the sticks, but it was far from nightlife back in Kanto. Tokyo—the highlight of all night life and corporate idol talent. The Place where the rising sun really did shine the most of the cream of the crop performers. He always did his best to be noticed on tours outside Tokyo.
Ichirou could hear his fans awaiting his arrival. The clamor of rapid clapping and screeches penetrated even to the back hallways. He even imagined the hypnotic swing of glowsticks swinging in the audience him like a million fireflies dancing to his songs; he wanted to swing along with the beat of that sound for the time being, bask in the wondrous grace and delight of the light. So if he wanted the solitary confines of the VIP section for his nerves, he would have retreated back in and soaked in his sound-proof dressing room. But he didn't. Ichirou's manager had told him once to ignore something so simple from the crowd—with his weaker attendance rates to his concerts he could not afford screw-ups, and he would not allow himself to lip sing for anything—but he could not help it.
Ichirou squeezed his eyelids together, leaving heavily against the wall. Luckily, he was alone while his manager helped tackle the procedures dragging along on the other side of the building. Tickets, lightning, and general mayhem storming the gates. The size of his fanbase was the main concern nowadays, and he supposed that the line had dwindled as much as he feared Of course, he had a cult of fans that rabidly attended his concerts with enthusiasm that paralleled on psychopathic. But all things were ethereal for an idol, especially those critical numbers that plummeted between showtimes. Ichirou could not afford losing even another disgusted fan un interested in buying tickets or merch.
"At first I thought I was getting too old for this, but look how many singers are my age. Maybe I'll take a short break after tonight," Ichirou muttered to himself.
Tugging at his shirt sleeve, black hair softly cascaded over wide eyes as he checked his watch. Ten minutes until time to run out on the stage. And, yes, he supposed he was hiding from the staff that would urge him to get ready. Certainly, he would have hell for this act of rebellion later, not being present for his makeup artist to apply last minute coatings and the special effects people to blather on about the lightning issues... He took a dragging breath once more.
"Someone will shine in my place," he muttered, a slight sadness washing over him at the thought, "but audiences eat up major comebacks without a second thought. I should get through tonight only and see what the future holds."
Weeks ago he had accepted this sad realization. But the tide had swept in and gone, swept away like a sandcastle on a beach. He had built a magnificent castle sturdy as can be with a gate of steel keeping it afloat through the deadliest of storms. Slowly, the waters of time had regretfully lapped at his creation and he, neglectfully not taking it completely serious at first, had let his accomplishments run into the ground until only a smooth surface remained. Perhaps he would have to build from the ground up with a brand new image to replace the old one. Strange still... Thinking that much, Ichirou winced. Maybe it had not been something as flimsy as a sand castle. It felt like his rivals had taken a bulldozer to his tall tower and smashed it down. Down to a burning pit and stomped on the pieces.
