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writetomyheart2012-11-27 01:48 am
omoikkiri.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2012-11-27 01:48 am
Entry tags:
Elastica
So instead of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
noella84, I'm inserting myself into the posting order because I just signed up again! XD
There is no plot and little coherency in this oops. But I've been on a writing break all month (lol while everyone else word vomits their NaNos) so I'm out of practice :<. Subject is re: Tsuka-chan dislocating his shoulder during JW and disappearing from the shows for a day (two days? something like that).
~
One of the first things he'd learned as a Johnny, even as young and unconcerned with anything more major than not getting yelled at during dance practice by the instructor as Tsukada had been when he'd joined, was that he had to rely on his body to get him places. The only way to get to the front of the rows and rows of back dancing Juniors (or, for that matter, to avoid getting yelled at) was to learn to dance, and well. "Step and kick and spin," says the dance instructor, so he forces his limbs into cooperation even when he's too tired to do much more than trip over his own feet; "You won't get anywhere unless you can do a backflip," a kind senpai tells him, so he practices and practices until he can do one without using his hands, even.
Tsukada is lucky in the acrobatics he'd been trained in since he was very young, but learns, as he gets older and the Juniors around him are weeded out, that he's unlucky in his lack of anything else. There's always Tottsu to be a better musician than him, Fumito to be funnier than him, kids like Hashimoto to be better looking than him, and even Goseki to trump him in dance, the one area he has a chance in.
He's not one to let such things get him down, of course. Instead it only makes him work harder, pushing himself more so that he doesn't end up fallen to the wayside like so many friends he's seen come and go at the jimusho. Only sometimes he's over-zealous, and it leads to injuries that, to Tsukada, are more frustrating than they are painful.
With so many people working together on the production, backstage is more of a mess than usual. As Tsukada picks his way to his group's dressing room, with annoyingly frequent halts for stagehands rushing around with props or some of the younger Juniors chasing each other around on an adrenaline rush, he can't help but get irritated at the chaos around him. Distressed cries from a few kids who are hyperventilating, angry shouts between co-actors who'd just been beaming like the best of friends onstage, production staff snapping at stressed underlings. It would try the patience of a saint, and Tsukada isn't nearly as all-suffering as his boke character might suggest. Especially not when his arm feels pulled out of its socket.
He has his good arm wrapped around himself protectively, so that none of the people (or props) running around will jar him on accident, but even moving other parts of his body sends painful twinges through his shoulder. When he finally makes it through the backstage chaos to his corner of the ABC-Z dressing room, his lips are ringed white with pain, enough that even he gives up the thought of pushing through the rest of the show. Kawai, who's unfairly perceptive for someone who's so abrasively loud all the time, notices first. From then on there's no option of continuing, of course, and Tsukada allows himself to get ushered to the hospital by their manager. To be honest, he's even a bit relieved.
But Tsukada hates having to sit out a performance, even for only one day or one afternoon. There are others in the company who almost enjoy getting injured, understandably so, because it allows them to take a break and get some rest. To Tsukada, however, standing under the spotlight sweating out all the negative energies from his body is the best way to heal. So he comes to work the next day, arm immobilized in a sling, mentally prepared to do battle.
Apparently he's injured himself once too often, however, because nobody even bothers to try to tell him no. He's simply handed a script with revised stage directions and reminded--by Hasshi, of all the impertinent upstarts--to stretch properly, because they're a performance group and it's important not to get injured during a show.
noella84, I'm inserting myself into the posting order because I just signed up again! XDThere is no plot and little coherency in this oops. But I've been on a writing break all month (lol while everyone else word vomits their NaNos) so I'm out of practice :<. Subject is re: Tsuka-chan dislocating his shoulder during JW and disappearing from the shows for a day (two days? something like that).
~
One of the first things he'd learned as a Johnny, even as young and unconcerned with anything more major than not getting yelled at during dance practice by the instructor as Tsukada had been when he'd joined, was that he had to rely on his body to get him places. The only way to get to the front of the rows and rows of back dancing Juniors (or, for that matter, to avoid getting yelled at) was to learn to dance, and well. "Step and kick and spin," says the dance instructor, so he forces his limbs into cooperation even when he's too tired to do much more than trip over his own feet; "You won't get anywhere unless you can do a backflip," a kind senpai tells him, so he practices and practices until he can do one without using his hands, even.
Tsukada is lucky in the acrobatics he'd been trained in since he was very young, but learns, as he gets older and the Juniors around him are weeded out, that he's unlucky in his lack of anything else. There's always Tottsu to be a better musician than him, Fumito to be funnier than him, kids like Hashimoto to be better looking than him, and even Goseki to trump him in dance, the one area he has a chance in.
He's not one to let such things get him down, of course. Instead it only makes him work harder, pushing himself more so that he doesn't end up fallen to the wayside like so many friends he's seen come and go at the jimusho. Only sometimes he's over-zealous, and it leads to injuries that, to Tsukada, are more frustrating than they are painful.
With so many people working together on the production, backstage is more of a mess than usual. As Tsukada picks his way to his group's dressing room, with annoyingly frequent halts for stagehands rushing around with props or some of the younger Juniors chasing each other around on an adrenaline rush, he can't help but get irritated at the chaos around him. Distressed cries from a few kids who are hyperventilating, angry shouts between co-actors who'd just been beaming like the best of friends onstage, production staff snapping at stressed underlings. It would try the patience of a saint, and Tsukada isn't nearly as all-suffering as his boke character might suggest. Especially not when his arm feels pulled out of its socket.
He has his good arm wrapped around himself protectively, so that none of the people (or props) running around will jar him on accident, but even moving other parts of his body sends painful twinges through his shoulder. When he finally makes it through the backstage chaos to his corner of the ABC-Z dressing room, his lips are ringed white with pain, enough that even he gives up the thought of pushing through the rest of the show. Kawai, who's unfairly perceptive for someone who's so abrasively loud all the time, notices first. From then on there's no option of continuing, of course, and Tsukada allows himself to get ushered to the hospital by their manager. To be honest, he's even a bit relieved.
But Tsukada hates having to sit out a performance, even for only one day or one afternoon. There are others in the company who almost enjoy getting injured, understandably so, because it allows them to take a break and get some rest. To Tsukada, however, standing under the spotlight sweating out all the negative energies from his body is the best way to heal. So he comes to work the next day, arm immobilized in a sling, mentally prepared to do battle.
Apparently he's injured himself once too often, however, because nobody even bothers to try to tell him no. He's simply handed a script with revised stage directions and reminded--by Hasshi, of all the impertinent upstarts--to stretch properly, because they're a performance group and it's important not to get injured during a show.
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thank you for writing a tsuka fic, it made my day ♥
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