Loathing You--My Whole Life Long [Hana]

[Hitorashi Kanon]

"No, no, no. We are not doing make-up today, darling. Another day, alright? Like...when it's absolutely necessary...ABSOLUTELY necessary..." Kanon faked a smile, then walked away from the make-up artist that had been bugging her for the past few minutes now about painting her.

Why was Japanese singing sensation, Hitorashi Kanon, about to be painted an emerald green from face to foot? There was a simple explanation.

"Aah! Thank you, Tsukomei. I needed the coffee--big time. Love you!" A smile and a kiss on the cheek, and Kanon walked past her "mentor" with great style.

The phone rang. It was around ten at night, and Kanon was holding her manager's phone. She opened it curiously.

"...Hello?"
"Is this the manager of Hitorashi Kanon-sama?"
"Nope."
"...Are you Kanon-sama?"
"Yeah. Who's calling?"
"Are you familiar with the play 'Wicked'?"
"Of course. I've seen it sixteen times, read the book four times, and sang 'Popular' in concert the past seventeen times. ...Why do you ask?"
"Would you like to be a part of the cast?"
[Kanon nearly drops the phone] "...Excuse me?"
"Yes! We need a vocalist to play the part of--"
"Glinda?!"
"No! Better! Elphaba!"
[Kanon sighs, supposing she was in a 'take it or leave it' situation.] "Joy...Elphaba..."
"So you'll do it?"
"Of course. You have my word, and all that."
"Thank you! All-cast rehearsals start on Tuesday."
"Gotcha."

After inwardly squealing (she wouldn't squeal aloud; it might hurt her voice), Kanon fell into a happy sleep. In a mere four days, she would see who the rest of the cast members were.

The egoistic young girl happily took a seat in the chair marked "Elphaba." Still, just because she was happy about the part, didn't mean she was about to go dye herself green. Not yet. She would do it for the show, but not yet. Running her fingers nonchalantly through her hair, which was quite silky today, if she did say so herself, she waited for the other cast members to arrive. To the left of her, a chair was marked "Glinda." To her right was the seat of "Fiyero."

Personally, she didn't care to meet "Glinda," because whoever she was, she was playing Kanon's part. Still, meeting "Fiyero" was something she wanted to do. The guys who were picked to be Fiyero were stunningly good-looking, and had amazing voices!

Soon, the doors pushed open, and a tall man walked into the room. He had long black hair and very thick eyebrows, so she noted when he came closer. All and all, his looks were meh...slightly above average. If his eyebrows were less bushy, he would be a definite above average--that was for sure. He wore a purple trench coat, lined with white fur. Once inside, he slipped this off, revealing the fact that he was dressed in pair of white slacks, a pale purple shirt, and a white scarf made of dense material. He tied his coat around his neck tennis-jacket style.

"Dobryj den'!" he said with a smile, plopping into "Fiyero's" chair.

"Eh..." Kanon smiled meekly. What the hell?

"Ah! What I am meaning to say is 'Good Afternoon! and a halló to you!'"

Russian. He was quite obviously Russian. She did like foreign guys. Too bad he was blatantly gay. Gay guys were pretty awesome, though, so it wasn't a total loss.

"Oh! I apologize for not understanding. Good afternoon to you as well," she said, flashing a smile.

"What is the name of you?"

His accent was kind of heavy. He was fresh from Russia. That was for sure.

"Hitorashi Kanon--vocalist."

"Vladimir Putzki--actor"

"Lovely to meet you, Vladimir."

"And you as well."

As the two conversed, Kanon could just sense the happy vibes of her manager, who was buzzing about in the crowd of other managers. Ryuu, who was not only her manager, but her brother, was in heaven. He loved large gatherings like this one was about to be.

"So, who's playing Glinda?"

Kanon had finished her conversations with Vladimir, and now was curious enough to ask. Though it would put a lot of strain on her temper, she wanted to meet the actress, vocalist...whoever they would pull out to play the part.She wanted to see if the girl had what it took to be her favorite on-stage character in the history of big-time acting.

The girl tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for someone to answer. She looked quite in-character. Upon her head was placed a witch hat, and over her usual brightly-colored kimono, she wore a black cape that draped down just past her ankles, but not quite to the floor. She held her script in her hand. The script, at the moment, was being angrily pressed to her side by her palm. She made sure that her body language read something along the lines of 'answer me, damn it." Hitorashi Kanon would *not* stand there waiting for an answer--she would *be* answered, or someone would get fired--preferably the girl playing the bouncy blond she wanted so badly to be.

Ryuu rubbed the back of his neck. He looked over Kanon, not quite sure if he should tell her that Hayashi Hana was to play the part of Galinda--later Glinda. She would not be happy--that was for sure. Hana might have been in a totally different field of the performance arts than Kanon, but her popularity rivaled the singer to the point that she was seen as downright competition. Well...On the bright side, the whole "hating" thing between Galinda and Elphaba would be a snap...It was just the "friendship and love" thing they would have to work on...Well, the more he thought about it, the more he figured he'd keep his mouth shut. Of all people, he knew how angry his sister could get.

==
word count: I don't feel like finding a word counter.
tagged: Hayashi Hana. ^^
time period: moderm Japan

[Hayashi Hana]

“Hi, my name is Charlie and I live in the sea.”
“Uh…”
“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s time.”
“’Things that a tuna would say’, dammit!” Hana was practically yelling at her TV set. While everyone else with a life in the world was at work doing something productive, Hana was sitting on her couch, engaged in the game show network. After months of nonstop rehearsing, super-glued hairpieces and idiotic co-stars, Hana was entitled to at least six weeks of leisure time.

Hana curled up, her back barely touching the back of the couch. She reached out for the bowl on the coffee table in front of her. She stuffed a generous amount of low-fat popcorn into her mouth. Ignoring the kernels stuck in teeth, she glued her eyes to the TV. Her bliss was interrupted by her phone.

Groan. But the phone was all the way in the kitchen. Hana wished the phone could just levitate itself over the living room. Come to think of it, why weren’t phones just programmed to fly over whenever it rang? If they can afford to make freaking solar-powered Segways, then they can definitely scrape a few coins to make a levitating phone.

Ring. Ring. Hana sighed again, and sat up.
“Hello?” Hana said into the receiver.
“H-haanaaaa, what’s uppp?”
“Seishiro, where the hell are you?” Hana muted the TV, and tried to hear her mentor through all of the noise in the background.
“Aright… so, I was thinking… that like there’s an awesome show.. and I—“
“You’re drunk!”
“Just.. a little buzzed—“
“I can smell the booze from here.” There was a shift and Hana heard Aina on the other end.
“What he was trying to say, is that we got you into a beyond awesome show.”
“WHAT?!”
“I’m telling you, Hana, this show pays like crazy. It’s an international sensation.”
“That sucks, because there is no in hell that I am auditioning. I am on vacation, remember? You’re lucky I even picked up the phone!”
“You don’t need to audition,” Aina laughed. “We sent in a tape of you. They loved it,” Hana was boiling with anger. “Tell them I’m canceling!” She screamed, just wanting for this stupid conversation to be over.

After ten more minutes of yelling, Hana finally relented and asked which show it was. Aina happily took the opportunity and squealed, “Wicked! You’re Glinda!”
“I’m who?”
“You’ve really never heard of Wicked? It’s insanely popular. Oh, and you get to play a character that isn’t depressing or ready to kill herself.”
“Great, an optimist. You just lost me.” Aina hesitated, and then lit up, knowing exactly what to say. “Guess how much it pays.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Hana felt more self-conscience than ever. She kept pulling her sleeves up and gave up, realizing they were never going to cover her shoulders. At least it was long, she thought. Aina finished applying shimmery gloss over Hana’s lips, smug that Hana was too lazy to look up the show and costumes. This was uncharacteristic of her, but Aina figured this was her showing her and Seishiro that she was still “in vacation mode.”

Seishiro had finally gotten over his hangover and was going over lines with Hana. She was purposely acting ignorant, so they would know she didn’t give a damn about the show. But from the part of the script she read, it wasn’t all that great. This she would express.

“Seishiro, this show is overrated; I doubt anyone is going to attend,” Hana stated, adjusting the irksome blonde wig on her head. She pushed the doors of her dressing room.

“OH MY GOD! That’s the girl playing Glinda!!!!”
“Someone grab her!”
“Get me her number!”
“I think I’m going to faint!”
A large man pushed the crowd back, as Hana slowly backed away. They began to disperse, finally, sneaking looks at her. Hana blinked and avoided Seishiro’s ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk. She was simply shocked that would be interested in a show about witches. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

She spoke too soon.

Hana froze. Kanon, clad in black, whisked by her, too distracted by who-cares-what. Hana began to feel her blood pressure escalate to levels only a temperamental, fifty-year-old, McDonald’s manager could achieve. Then it occurred to her that Kanon fit the bill of an ugly witch perfectly. She was probably just preparing for the rest of her sad, pathetic life.

Hana decided to study her script again, before the first run-through to help relieve her annoyance. She bumped right into a tall, black-haired man with the nicest coat she had ever seen. She resisted the urge to stroke it. He said something unintelligible or foreign-y. Hana threw him a b*tchy look, as if to say, “Please leave or I will bite you, or possibly take your coat.” He laughed and said, “Kavon did make the same look!” This show really was a joke.

They spoke and Hana tried to pick one thing she could tolerate as she always did when she met people who were… out there. She decided he had nice clothing and smiled as much as she could when she left.
Of course it was going to be even harder picking out something from “Kavon” over there, she thought. The only way this show was going to work was if those two were deported.


[Hey, sorry for the wait. =0 I couldn't sit down and think of it-- until! i saw the game show channel. xDD My inspiration.]

[Hitorashi Kanon]

Before someone could answer her question, the wardrobe crew kidnapped her. She would have just loved to see the reaction of the professional crew if she just screamed "rape" then and there, but she resisted the temptation and allowed herself to be dragged off into a room filled with different forms of make-up and cans upon cans of hair products. Allowing her eyes to scan this new environment freely, she saw a shade of lipstick that she knew would look just amazing with that new kimono she bought... She would have to ask someone about what color and brand that was, and where she could find it.

Kanon's musing over the lipstick gave her reason to relax, and she allowed the nice make-up people to give her a v-necked shirt with short sleeves and a pair of shorts to change into. In a reluctant manner, she changed into the simple black clothing. She was then directed sit her down at one of many comfortable-looking chairs. Sinking down slightly into the cushion of the seat, she leaned into the soft back of this chair. A smile lit her lips. This wasn't going to be *too* bad. What were they going to do first, though? Being painted green was obviously going to be a long, headache-inducing process. She took a final sip of the coffee her dear mentor had given her, and prepared for painting.

First, they told her to tip her head back. Her long brown hair fell into a sink. What? Were they going to cut her hair while they were at it? She hoped not. If they did, she would be quite pissed. Only certain people were allowed to touch her hair, let alone hold a pair of scissors to it. Thankfully, what the woman working on her was holding was not a tool to cut it with. It was a bottle. Shampoo, maybe? She felt water being sprayed onto her head and hair. This was weird. What the hell was this? No matter how strange it was that this random person was now washing her hair, Kanon couldn't help but silently admit that it did feel good to have her scalp massaged as the liquid in questioning was worked into her hair.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone be seated to her right. A smirk played on her lips as she recognized a friendly and flamboyant Russian accent comment on how he used the same hair gel at home. Fiyero was about to be done up. Of course, he wouldn't have to go through much. He would have his hair excessively gelled, and maybe they would put some foundation on him for kicks.

"Hey, Vlad. Ready to get so much gel glopped onto that pretty hair of yours that it'll require a bottle of shampoo or so to wash it out?"

The actor smiled, obviously amused. It could have either been the fact that she had decided to nickname him or the crack about hair gel that made him chuckle. Maybe it was a bit of both factors.

"Halló, Kavon. I am being ready. You are being ready for the painting of the skin?"

He was obviously referring to the fact that she was about to go from porcelain white to emerald green. She was honestly less than happy, but she didn't have too much of a right to complain this time. After all, when things boiled down to it, she would be the one signing the most autographs. *She* was the lead. Not "Glinda." Not Fiyero. Her. "Elphie."

"There's no business like show business," she remarked in a sarcastic tone. She would have willingly continued the conversation if it wasn't for the hair stylist that started talking to him, telling him what was going down with his styling. She wished that her seemingly mute hair-washer was a bit more social.

After a few more shampooing and rincing cycles, they allowed her hair to sit there in the sink for a few moments before they put it in a towel, dried it off, then brushed it out. They handed her a mirror. Her jaw nearly hit the floor when she saw her hair.

It was black. Her gorgeous brown hair was black. She would have screamed if someone hadn't walked over to explain it.

"Well, we didn't want to put you in a wig, being your hair's so long, so we decided to just put some temporary dye in it."

The explanation made enough sense to her, but that had nothing to do with how pissed she was that no one had told her sooner. She knew that she was going to walk out of that room green, but she had no clue that she would also have onyx locks. It was strange...Still, she just gritted her teeth and tried to let it roll off of her while maintaining grace and dignity.

Another girl walked over. She took a small container and unscrewed the lid. This time, it was make-up. The first girl worked on blow drying her hair as this one began to gently rub the foundation-like substance onto her face. She figured that this was green paint of some kind. Well, more like green foundation. That way, it would dry, but it wouldn't harden and chip off like paint. Clever. She had to hand it to the big-time make-up squad. They knew what they were doing.

A third person made their way over to her stand. Wow. She really was getting the star treatment today. Sadly, instead of just regular make-up, they were painting her green. This person took her hands and dipped them in a watery substance. It would probably stain them green. Ugh. That would take forever to wash off. She would be wearing gloves for a few weeks to come, or need to go out and buy the best make-up remover money could offer. She preferred the latter decision, in all actuality. Then again, who wouldn't?

Person number two who was working on her face, a blond girl who was too thin for her own good, started massaging the same substance into the "blooming actress'" neck. This was going to be a long, boring process. All that there was to do was try to relax, and hope that some form of entertainment would waltz her way--especially since "Vlad" was too preoccupied chatting it up with his trusty-seeming staff member. It was both cool and scary at the same time to think about how used to hair gel that guy seemed to be. Ah well. Screw diamonds--gay guys are a girl's best friend.

---

-words: 1104
-song: Actually, for once, I'm not listening to anything. I'm getting ready to go to bed. Work tomorrow. >> I. Hate. Windows.
-comments: Sorry I took so long! ^^; Well, here's a nice long post for you. I was inspired by the fact that I just recently ranted to someone about the joys of theater, and the fact that I myself am going to see Wicked. Ahaha! (Yes. I have lost it.)

[Hayashi Hana]

Leaning back into the chair, Hana looked up at the mirror. Her brown hair was scrunched up in a net and the hairdresser was delicately placing the blonde wig over her head. Debbie, the hairdresser, inserted clear bobby pins underneath the elastic to secure it in place. Her hands shook with arthritis but Hana could tell that she was experienced. Aina got up for the millionth time to make sure that Debbie hadn't placed the wig on a centimeter off or something. Hana grinned because Aina was only anal when she wasn't doing something herself.

"Debbie, the wig is placed right, but the shade is all wrong for Hana's complexion. She looks washed out," Aina criticized, dropping a strand of synthetic hair. "We're going to spray tan her before the show," Debbie patiently said, combing out the wig. Wait. Spray tan? As long as it's not a real tan, Hana thought. At least her hair wasn't being dyed black. Hana giggled at Kanon's bad dye-job and flipped open the script while Aina and Debbie argued over which brand of mascara to use.

Hana concluded earlier that the cast for so wrong for this play it was outlandish. No matter how many times Hana tried to imagine herself talking about popularity or wizards, it just was waaaay too weird. Thank God it's acting. And the fact they had an Eastern European playing a Japanese version of Fiyero sounded more like a comedy. Hana was thankful that the job paid.

Vladimir ‘s hair was all glopped up and looked like it was going to break off if anything happened. He was already changed, but didn’t bother looking at his script on his dressing table. It looked like he was scoping out a catalog. Kanon was fighting back tears and probably giving herself the “I’m a method actress, and after this job I can buy myself new hair” lecture. Hana never bothered herself with that kind of thing. She usually just yelled at Seishiro and Aina and if it was really bad threw a few things. Anything to get her message across.

Hana’s thoughts were broken by voice reciting lines then belting out a few scales. The notes were on key and the accent perfect. She turned around and to her surprise it was Vladimir. Hana’s eyes bulged out. What the hell? While Debbie ironed her outfit Hana put down her script and approached him.

“How are you doing that?” She asked, disturbing him. Vladimir looked a little startled, but cracked a smile. “Doing what?” He said without an accent, but obviously knowing what she was talking about. He laughed again at Hana’s raised eyebrow. “The whole Russian thing is just an act. It’s a little trick I play when I’m doing shorts shows like this. Keeps me confident about my brilliant acting skills.” Hana allowed him a small smile. “So that’s probably your mother’s coat and make-up, right?” Vladimir picked up the sleeve of his coat hanging on the chair. “Hey, don’t tell “Kavon”, she’s pretty hilarious. She asked me if I had a boyfriend back home.” Hana then laughed. She wasn’t the only one who liked to pick on little Miss Sunshine after all.

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Hours later, Hana’s makeup was finally done. Hana looked a little washed out with the blonde hair but the staff promised her she would look better when the tan was done. Her eyes looked ten times bigger with all of the glitter and eyeliner but the dress was stuffy.

Adamant that her lines were memorized perfectly, Hana rolled the script up and secured it between her thigh and the elastic of her stockings. The dress was longer and poofed out so it was not visible. The director was already seated and barking commands to an assistant with a headset in his ear. A few more staff members were decking out the snack table and fixing the set.

The set was obviously very expensive. The brush strokes were perfect and all of the props were authentic. Meaning that the bed actually had a soft mattress and not just a block of wood and the trees were actually shedding. Wow, this is pretty high-budget, Hana thought admiring it. Few things were impressive to her and Hana felt a little regretful for doubting that Seishiro would hook her up with a nice show. To be honest, she expected a little platform stage and about twenty plastic seats for the audience. Seishiro’s judgment had been lacking these past few weeks.

“Are we ready to go here?” A man’s voice crackled through a bright green megaphone with the word “Wicked” monogrammed on the side. Hana usually never saw the need for megaphones, but since the director was seated all the way in the back of the auditorium, it was vital. The auditorium was massive and had to seat at least three thousand.

Hana spotted Kanon walking through the door, and went up to her, testing her good mood. “Oh, Kanon, hi. I didn’t know you were an extra.” Hana pasted a placid smile on her face secretly burning up about how smooth her skin looked. Hana resolved on boosting up her own self-esteem. Besides, she was feeling a bout of anger about how good her black hair looked after they cleaned up the stains on her forehead. “Your skin looks gorgeous.” Hana paused. “It’s going to absolutely glow when it’s green,” Hana adjusted the script in her stocking and stalked off, feeling pleased. Kanon’s just lucky she didn’t throw anything.

[Whoo, we are sooo making progress. A month, a post. xDD]

[Hitorashi Kanon]

The vocalist had to suppress a growl as she felt them removing the remainder of the black from her forehead. This was so tedious! Still, after what seemed like an eternity, they sat her up. She went to rub her temples, but they shoved a mirror in her hands. How nice of them. Frankly, though, she didn’t care if they gave her a brick of gold right now. Kanon wanted to stand up, damn it. Still, as they finished brushing her hair and asked her for her opinion, she found herself gazing at her reflection. Well, well. Leave it to Hitorashi Kanon to look good--no matter the hair color. Currently, her hair was dark black, and she looked gorgeous, if she did say so herself. “Bravo,” she commented to the hair stylist, who smiled at her in a way-too-happy manner. Well didn’t she feel special? Whatever. It was time for her to take a break from these awful fumes. Even her make-up artist told her to go take a break. No one wanted her to die from inhaling toxic chemicals, apparently. How sweet of them to consider the condition of her lungs.

Her hands and arms were already quite green, and the base was already on her face. Next time she walked out of the make-up room, she would be a lovely shade of emerald. She didn’t really want to think about that, though. Instead, she simply walked to another part of the room. She heard a beautiful voice singing. Maybe it was the Wicked soundtrack playing in the background as mood music for the cast? Well, if that was the case, the director was a strange, strange person. After all--they would certainly be hearing enough of that music once rehearsals were in full swing. It *was* a musical, after all. Curiosity getting the best of her, she turned toward where she suspected a stereo to be, but instead, saw Vlad--her “Russian” co-star.

“What The Hell” she thought to herself in surprise. That surprise melted quickly, though--transforming itself into anger and jealousy when she saw a girl in a blond wig make her way over to the fully-dressed Fiyero. So that was the back of Galinda’s head. She didn’t really care about her back--she knew what the costume was supposed to look like. Kanon needed to see the girl’s face. She watched as the actress chatted it up with Vladimir--who didn’t seem to have much of an accent any more. Too far away to hear the specifics of the conversation, the singing sensation figured that he would have to be able to kill his accent upon whim if he was going to be in Wicked. Still…something inside of her made her anger boil all the more.

Never the less, Kanon returned to the make-up station, plopping down on the soft chair in frustration. The make-up artist finished dusting her neck with green and then told her that she didn’t need to have any more painting done for today. She was relieved, but at the same time, quite pissed. They went through all this trouble just to leave her half-done? Still, she kept the anger to herself as she slipped into her first costume--School-girl Elphaba. The navy-blue knit cap was beyond awful in her opinion, but the dress wasn’t…okay. Yeah. The dress was terrible, too. She watched idly as her stylists took notes on what she supposed would be the make-up brands they used and the exact shade of green they used on her. At least her face wasn’t green, thanks to the fact that they decided to wash it off in the end. Wow. These theater companies must love to blow money for trial runs. Too bad she was still stained green from her fingers to her elbow. Oh well.
True enough, the last few hours had been a total waste. At least she was happy with the dye job that her hair had gone through. She didn’t look too bad with black hair. Of course, as soon as the show was over, she was going back to her natural brown color. She wasn’t a fan of people who dyed their hair a color and had to waste the time and money keeping up on it. On top of that, her skin felt great. Apparently, they had used some sort of moisturizer to get the paint off her face--which was back to it’s normal color. She would be sure to yell at Kei until he decided to give in and go ask what they had used on her. Then again, chances were that Reiko was already badgering them about using products that she didn’t pre-approve. That was Reiko--mother to all of her lovely singers and dancers, but a total bitch to anyone who tried to mess with them.

Nevertheless, she could hear the director calling them into the auditorium. Harosheim walked along side of her. She shot him a questioning side-glance. All he did was hand her a script and smile. Ugh. He was confusing. What? Was he just pointing out that she had left her script on that table backstage? It didn’t matter. She had been studying it since it was given to her. She knew every line by heart, anyway. When she went to point out this fact to Harosheim, he was gone. Great. Well, whatever. It was rehearsal time.

As she left the make-up room to join the rest of the cast in the auditorium, a true witch stood before her. A witch that happened to be wearing a blond wig and way-too-poofy dress. She had to force composure as the girl smiled at her. “Oh, Kanon, hi. I didn’t know you were an extra.”

The rage inside of her boiled like hot lava, but she contained herself, smiling back with a very similar smile. “Oh! Why if it isn’t Hayashi Hana. Hello, darling. But I must say--I was about to ask you the same question. Like I’ve said before--you’re a wonderful ensemble girl. Background ensemble suits you.”

“Your skin looks gorgeous.”

Kanon continued to smile. She knew that “Hana-chan“ was about to lash out at her.

“It’s going to absolutely glow when it’s green,”

“I’m sure it will. Anything looks good on me,” she said, following the girl as she walked away. “Oops. I suppose I shouldn’t be bragging when you can’t say the same for yourself. So sorry, darling. By the way--blond is so not your color.” With that, Kanon quickly walked past her number-one rival--after a quick flip of her quite soft-looking black hair. Ah, it was good to be the star. Too bad her mortal enemy was playing the part she wanted and just happened to be her co-star.

She sat down on the “Elphaba” chair once more. The director had apparently set these name-chairs so that they were in a circle--him being in the middle. What a freak. Did he think they were about to have story time? She then looked at the small paper inserted in the script with the “Who’s Who” list. She nodded to herself--seeing her name listed first and foremost made her sparkle. She suppressed a sneer as she saw Hana’s name directly below hers. Ew. Too close for comfort. Then, she saw the name “Maikuro Akio” as playing “Fiyero.” Yep. She had totally been punked by an actor. Still, she decided to keep playing into his act. When he sat down, she smiled at him.

“Hey, Vlad. I heard you singing earlier. You’ve got a good voice. It’s amazing how well you can snap out of your accent.”

She should have looked at that cast list a while ago. Now, she was sure it was time for the dreaded read-through. Then maybe some dance moves and staging details would be pointed out.

---

words: 1274
comments: Your move, Hana-chan~

[Hayashi Hana]

“I’m sure it will. Anything looks good on me.” Oh, what modesty. If there was anything that Hana hated the most about these divas, it was the size of their egos. Equivalent to planetary moons. Hana refrained from comment when Seishiro casually walked by. He didn't hide the fact that he had heard everything from the warning look in his eye.

“Oops. I suppose I shouldn’t be bragging when you can’t say the same for yourself. So sorry, darling. By the way--blond is so not your color.” Hana rolled her eyes as the egomaniac skipped off. She could have ripped on her 1940's convent dress. She could have retorted in regard to her inferior acting skills. She could have commented on how her chair was closer to the director's. But Hana was obviously the better person in this situation. And the one who was not going to be lectured by her manager.

Hana opened her script up. The booklet was carefully highlighted; speaking lines in yellow and movement in pink. Hana obsessively smoothed out the tiny fold from rolling it. She made sure it wasn’t rolled too tightly, so it wasn’t long before the pages were flat and didn’t flip out at the edges. She suddenly became aware of the room’s silence. Hana quickly took her seat and noticed everyone else. She learned that it was easy to tell what kind of person an actor was by the condition of their script.

Kanon’s had little doodles around the title and was highlighted, too. There were notes written in metallic pink gel pen. There were probably things like “smile here” or “flip hair here” all over the margins. Hana liked to write on separate pieces of paper in a journal.

Vlad’s was more disheveled. It was clear that the poor thing had suffered Chinese take-out nights (at first the spot looked like ink, but Hana noticed that it became a lighter shade of brown around the corner; soy sauce) and was folded in half to fit in his pocket. The highlighter bled through the pages.

“Vlad” told Hana earlier his real name was Akio. Vlad stuck in her head, but she made a mental note to remember to call him Akio. She didn’t want to give anyone the impression she didn’t know earlier. Even though it was strange of her to not see the Who’s Who section, since Hana was notorious for knowing miniscule details such as where the lady who washed her hair had her Bat mitzvah. Hana continued to tell herself it was really, really, really small. Everyone else probably didn’t see it either.

Unless. Was Hayashi Hana slipping? No, of course not. It’s been weeks since her last show and she was simply exhausted. She just didn’t adjust to reading anything besides the TiVo guide. Speaking of which, she had just been shoveling the popcorn down these past few weeks. Did the box say nonfat? Hana became conscience of the curve hugging dress and sucked in her breath.

Hana then caught sight of the enormous head across from her. Hana did not need her self-esteem to wobble in Kanon’s presence. Hana’s body shuddered just thinking her name. There was no denying that Hana was feeling jealous. Hana wasn’t like those fake ingénues who ignored their flaws and what other girls had and she didn’t. Everything was painfully apparent to her.

The director finished testing the megaphone (which was giving Hana a headache that would require about four bottles of Tylenol Extra Strength) and sauntered back down the aisle, occasionally pausing to push up one of the audience seated that was stuck in sit-up position, or say something to his headset clad assistant. Evidently, the director decided that walking and talking should be done separately. He finally took his seat. He brushed off an invisible thread off of his jacket and looked around.

The director was a string-bean of a thing. He looked a little over six feet but whatever muscles he had didn’t show through his loose-fitting T-shirt. He wore carpenter jeans with little rips on them. A long chain protruded from his front pocket from which ten million keys hung. He had thick-wire glasses and spiked up hair. He dressed like a teenager but the veins around his face showed otherwise. Hana guessed thirty-five.

“As you all should know, I’m Toshigi Takehiko. Call me Giko, we’re all friends here, okay?” Giko smiled, his eyes still roaming around the circle. Hana knew from the minute he said the word “friends” he was one of those eccentric types. Which meant demanding. “We’re all friends except when that curtain goes up. Then you shouldn’t believe for a second that I won’t tan you and bind you into my own personal example of bibliopegy if you're a second off cue.” Hana silently congratulated herself on her excellent judgment. Giko is nuts.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The read-through was going wonderfully. Hana wasn’t so much of a bitch not to acknowledge that Kanon was doing a great job being a witch. Some parts you’re just born for. Hana herself had taken some criticism. Inside she boiled, but didn’t dare show it. Hana moved in two ends of the spectrum. She either hid it extremely well or blew up.

Since the singing lessons hadn’t started, they read through those parts. Hana listened to the original soundtrack on the way to the theater and memorized the pitch and notes. Giko handed them all sheet music to look alone. Hana didn’t dare jinx herself with confidence. Not with music; there was something about the superstition behind making it that frightened her. Like how milk was bad for the voice. What if she accidentally had a bowl of cereal or something? Her vocal cords could turn on her at any given moment and mess up an entire show. Forget about humiliation. Hana had her own standards to live up to. She willed herself that would make every preparation to make sure that her singing was flawless. Hana felt like one of those playground parents that jump with Neosporin and bandages if their child scrapes a knee: just waiting for something bad to happen.

[Can you elaborate on the read-through? Again, I have no clue how this goes. xDD If you post about it, I'll post about Hana talking about it to Seishiro or something. Hey, we really are making progress. I would have posted last night but my mom was too busy messing with the router. >.>;;]

[Hitorashi Kanon]

Crossing her legs, her eyes locked with the words on the script. She had every line, song, and moral detail of this play memorized, so she was not worried about the read through at all--even if she was in a room of professional actors and actresses. If all of them were like Hayashi Hana--she had nothing to worry about. They were just more people looking to rip her abilities to shreds with their own, yet backed down when it came to a friendly verbal tussle. Yes. She knew that the way she had just talked to Hana was totally uncalled for, but she wasn’t used to this atmosphere, thus felt as if she needed to try to prove herself as top dog. Well…maybe eating a person’s ego with a side of bashing wasn’t the best way to climb to the top in fifteen minutes… Oh hell with it. Too late for regrets now. What’s done is done.

“As you all should know, I’m Toshigi Takehiko. Call me Giko, we’re all friends here, okay?”

Her eyebrow quirked upward. Giko? Wasn’t that like…a brand of car insurance? Whatever. The way he said “friends” made her blood run just a touch colder. He was psychotic. She could tell. Well, she had already worked with people that were mentally unstable. Take Tsukomei for example. According to the doctors, she was mentally unstable--in a literal sense. They wanted to lock her up. In a psychotic ward. But there she was--lead vocalist in the Motoki Performance Agency. Long story short--Kanon was confident that she could handle “Giko.”

It was read-through time. What fun! That wasn’t sarcastic at all. She was actually looking forward for this thing to get started. She flipped to the first page of her script. They were just going to read over all the songs. This, she found very strange. How the hell was she supposed to read a song? She had so many of them, too! She shot Reiko a skeptical look. The middle-aged woman shrugged, a sympathetic smile on her lips. Even Reiko knew that reading through so many solos would be a pain. Maybe Mister Mid-life crises would let her skip through them? She would just have to wait and see.

The entire first part, she was pretty much sleeping through. It didn’t have her in it. It was all Galinda and the ensemble members that had those few lines. Truth be told, Elphaba didn’t say anything until after “Dear Old Shiz.” At the moment, they were still reading through one of the speaking parts in “No One Mourns The Wicked.” Could they be any slower? She was sure that it could have gone a hell of a lot quicker if the director didn’t have to keep stopping the stupid ensemble to remind them to practice their facial expressions as they read.

Finally, it was time for her favorite line in the play. Before she spoke, she exhaled deeply. She was no longer Hitorashi Kanon--she was Elphaba. Her face held a look of slight irritation as she said, “Okay…let's get this over with…no I'm not seasick, yes I've always been green, No I didn't eat grass as a child--” the man playing her father cut her off. She briefly glanced up from her script to see Giko giving her a nod of approval. She allowed herself to smile for a moment before burying her face into her script once more.

“It seems the Artichoke is steamed.”
Kanon sneered into her script as Hana recited her line. This time, she wasn’t sneering at Hana personally. She was sneering at Galinda.

“Hmm…Hana, baby. Could you say that a little more like…well…Galinda would? Let me set this up for you. Galinda is an Upperton. Of the Upper Uppertons, as she points out…”

Kanon lifted her script and rolled her eyes at how funny the director thought that was. Dear God… So he was one of those people who liked those corny lines that only a select few found funny each showing? How sad.

“You’re snooty. You’re rich. You’re a spoiled brat, pretty much. But you’re not jeering at her. You’re hardly talking to her. This is more so directed at the class. You’re trying to get in good with them--become popular, make them laugh--but you’re not doing so obviously. You’re not going out of your way to laugh at your own joke. This is one of those scenarios where you’re like, ‘I just said something that people should laugh at. I’m so good.’ moments. You’re boosting yourself.”

The vocalist blinked. She could hardly believe how into his own commentary the director seemed. She kind of felt bad for Hana--she actually had to pretend to be interested in what the director was saying. Still, she couldn’t help but get just a little pleasure out of that very fact. She was a bitch, and she knew it.

“And I’ll stand there with the Wizard. Feeling Feelings I’ve never felt,” she recited--trying not to burst out into song--even though the original soundtrack was playing through her head. For a vocalist, it was hard not to sing along with one’s inner play list. Still, she tried to express how Elphaba felt throughout the song in her voice. She was hysterical at this point. For once, she had been told that she wasn’t useless. She could get in with the Wonderful Wizard of Oz--the Ozian God made Man.

“The Wizard…And I…!” she couldn’t help but belt out the last line. She saw Reiko smirking out of the corner of her eye. She had hit the pitch quite nicely, if she did say so herself. She looked up at “Geico,” an apologetic smile on her face. “I couldn’t help it,” she stated dryly. He sighed, shaking his head.

“I understand…Kind of…”

Kanon tossed her hair over her shoulder. No one could understand unless they were a singer. Tsukomei was giving her a thumbs up from the sidelines. The Hitorashi smirked. Tsukomei would have done the exact same thing, put in her position… Actually, knowing her, she would have probably just sang the entire song. She was the kind of person who kind of just flipped off the world at times. Kanon loved her mentor anyway.

“Let’s just move on,” Giko prompted when he saw that quite a few of the cast members seemed to have zoned out over something or other. They probably were commenting on her voice...or just taking the opportunity to get some open-eyed sleep. She didn’t want to know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, so she simply opened her Swiss thermos and took a sip of the pineapple juice she had inside. A slight pleasure always filled her whenever she did as such--which she knew was very strange. Well hey--pineapple juice was both good for the voice and very tasty. Nonchalantly screwing the top of her “ISO bottle” back on, she looked back down at the script, easily picking up on where and what they were reading.

“Your driver almost hit me, and you’re sleeping?!” she sounded furious.
“Maybe he thought that the green meant go,” her not-so Russian co-star commented coolly. She had to hand it to him--he was good. She would enjoy working with him. Talented people seemed more and more rare anymore. This was probably because she didn’t count posting a supposedly funny video on Youtube to take talent. Nonetheless--she knew that “Akio” really was worthy of the part of Fiyero…even if he was on her “X-list” at the moment for tricking her.

-~-

“No One Mourns The Wicked…”
“BOOM.”
“Wicked.”
“BOOM.”
“Wicked…”

Stifling a laugh as listened to the director filling in for the dramatic “booms” in the music, she listened to the ensemble and “Glinda” finish up the play by reading through the finale.

“And that’s a wrap. Not so bad, right?”

Everyone had a satisfied look on their face, so Kanon thought. Though, knowing these people, some of them were probably a lot less than satisfied. Still, with a crack-head director such as this one, they all were kind of obligated to at least seem happy with the read-through’s completion.

“Now…Shall we move on to the singing…?” Obviously a rhetorical question. No one answered him. He smiled and clapped his hands. “Take five.”

Following the lead of quite a few people, she stood up to stretch her legs for a bit. Shuffling over to Reiko, Tsukomei, Kei, and Ryu--who now stood in one happy-go-lucky clump, she gave them a lazy smile. “Was I good?” she asked softly, hoping no one heard her do so. Sure, she wanted to keep her strong composure, but something inside of her was dying to know just how well things really went.

“Very.”

A light laugh escaped her lips. She felt a lot better now. Reiko wouldn’t sugar-coat things for her. She was a nice lady, but not *that* nice. She had a performance agency to co-run, after all. After exchanging a standing there while they exchanged a few more words about Lord-knows-what, she began to walk back to her chair. That’s when she noticed that everyone was making their way to the stage.

…Okay. Sing-through was apparently to be held on stage. Thanks for the notice, people. She knew that for most of the cast, this was probably common sense. She wished she could say the same for herself. Placing her script on the now semi-familiar “Elphaba” chair, she made her way over to the stage to join her underlings and co-stars.

Apparently, their “five” wasn’t up quite yet, judging from the fact that the majority of them were lounging about the stage. She saw someone go to pop a piece of fudge in their mouth. Her eyes went wide, trying to stop herself from smacking that person over the head and snatching the dairy-made product. They were about to make a dyer mistake. Code red! Code red! Looking the other way, Kanon took a few moments to calm herself down. It was their loss--not hers. She shouldn’t be freaking out--even if it was only on the inside.

Okay…she had managed to calm herself down. She then came to notice that a certain washed out blond was standing in front of her--not looking at her, but kind of just standing there. A flush crossed Kanon’s cheeks as she was once again reminded of how she had ripped her apart earlier. She bit her lower lip. Was she actually feeling bad for Hana?! This could not be happening to her… Ugh. The only thing to do was…Well, not apologize. That would give “Glinda” too much satisfaction…Still…

With a sigh, she walked over to the actress, a wry smile on her lips. “Hey, Hana. Good job with the read-through. Can’t wait to hear you sing,” she said jovially, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. She looked both ways before muttering, “Giko’s a bit…”special”…but all in all, it seems like it’ll be a decent show.”

“Alright, People. Let’s get down to business.”

Kanon waved, walking away from Hana. She now felt like a good person and all that, but she still couldn’t stand the fact that her arch rival was playing the part she would have wanted.

---

Comments: Okay! I posted! Now no killing me. One thousand, eight hundred, sixty six words. =P Read it and weep, Hana-chan~!
Read-through-wise? Was that enough for you to work with? If not, I’ll add to it.
Yes. A lot of this post is random rambling. I wrote it just before I went to bed, for the most part. So sue me.
What else…What else… Oh yeah. xD About the whole “Giko” thing. I don’t care if you saw it pronounced as something else, but when I saw it, I saw “Geico,” so that is how it is pronounced now. =P
Well…Your move. Just tell me if I need to edit at all.