Hajime no Insho
sho juku.
The last time that he’d been anywhere near this nervous, he’d been about to perform in his first live, and he’d been behind the drum set, at the back of the stage. But that anxiety, truthfully, paled in comparison to this. He was absolutely fucking insane for doing this willingly. There were nearly a thousand fans waiting for the band out there, and that was more than double what they’d ever dealt with.
Granted, he was incredibly stoked about the crowd size, and he knew that it was because their record company had incredible skill when it came to all things advertising, but he was still nervous beyond the most extreme definition of the word. The largest crowd he’d ever sang in front of had been, at most, four hundred people, and this crowd seemed to be too much. For some reason, they were excited to hear Gazette and see Gazette, and because of that, Takanori found himself intimidated.
They’d only released two singles with three songs each, which would make for an incredibly short live, but still for some reason, they wanted to hear him and the band come out and play. And all he could do was tell himself what everyone else had been telling him; “You’re a natural, you’ll do fine” and “The crowds love you, remember the first time you sang in front of a crowd and nailed it?” and “There’s nothing to worry about, they’re just a bunch of eager kids.”
“You can do this,” he told himself, and his voice was somewhat convincing albeit very shaky, and he let his forehead rest against the wall as he realized that there was no fucking way he was this wound up about a thousand-person crowd. He closed his eyes, and he reverted back to the timeless anxiety soothers; taking a few deep breaths and reminding himself that the crowd was just a bunch of kids and that it was just him going out and doing something he loved.
And after a few moments, despite being able to hear Yuu chuckling at him, he was at least relaxed enough to push himself off the wall, open his eyes, and then take another couple of deep breaths for good measure.
“Yeah, Ruki, remember to breathe, hmm? Wouldn’t want you to pass out on us or anything.” He rolled his eyes, and he could imagine Kouyou grinning as he pulled the singer to his side, messing with his hair as always and flashing a grin. “You’ll do fine, trust me. You’re a natural.” He grinned again, and then he released the singer from his hold, and he drifted off toward Yuu, most likely in search of a few good luck kisses.
Takanori chuckled, and he pushed at the rims of his glasses, a habit he thought he’d kicked months ago, and decided that if he lost his mind now, he’d be useless in the foreseeable future of Gazette, and he decided that they could be playing at the Budokan itself and he would have to just grin and keep breathing and for the love of God, Takanori, never stop singing.
And then the crowd seemed to be cheering louder, and Akira had appeared next to him, grinning and ruffling his hair as he said, “We’re up.” And Takanori was sure that his intestines had wrapped themselves around his stomach and jumped. He looked up at the bassist with what he hoped looked like a smile, and the bassist’s only response was a grin and a laugh.
Then, without time really passing, they were on the stage, and the house lights were dimming, and the stage lights were fading on, and Takanori made himself become Ruki as he smiled at the crowd, grasped the microphone, and pulled it from its stand. Immediately the crowd was cheering, and he felt an indescribable swell in his chest as the other members got situated, slinging their instruments over their shoulders, Yune settling into the stool behind the drum set.
And he felt the most incredible rush of adrenaline as a spotlight focused on him, and he flashed a grin at the crowd and introduced the band. He turned his head, and he grinned at the four men that had become his closest friends, and then he turned his attention to the crowd, thankful that ‘Ruki’ was less nervous than he was.
And then without hesitation, the live began. The band immediately dived into ‘Doro darake no seishun’, and Takanori was beaming inside and out as the crowd quite literally went ape-shit. Somehow, it was as if the entire crowd had seen their only marginally marketed PVs, and they all knew the lyrics, and the energy they were giving off was more intense and more powerful than just about every other live that he’d ever performed in.
And because the crowd was incredibly energetic and because he was doing just fine thanks to them and the band, Takanori was certain that he’d been way too nervous over something like this, and he knew that this was something he could do. He could write the words without a second thought, and he just knew that he’d be able to perform them, too. And it just felt so incredibly natural to have a microphone in his hand, and if he’d felt at home when he’d been Setsu Akane, he might as well have died and gone to heaven as Ruki.
This was what accomplishment felt like. This was happiness and this was adoration and this was acknowledgment and this was a huge fucking leap in the right direction, and he was just that much closer to accomplishing his dream.
This was where Takanori was meant to be.
Granted, he was incredibly stoked about the crowd size, and he knew that it was because their record company had incredible skill when it came to all things advertising, but he was still nervous beyond the most extreme definition of the word. The largest crowd he’d ever sang in front of had been, at most, four hundred people, and this crowd seemed to be too much. For some reason, they were excited to hear Gazette and see Gazette, and because of that, Takanori found himself intimidated.
They’d only released two singles with three songs each, which would make for an incredibly short live, but still for some reason, they wanted to hear him and the band come out and play. And all he could do was tell himself what everyone else had been telling him; “You’re a natural, you’ll do fine” and “The crowds love you, remember the first time you sang in front of a crowd and nailed it?” and “There’s nothing to worry about, they’re just a bunch of eager kids.”
“You can do this,” he told himself, and his voice was somewhat convincing albeit very shaky, and he let his forehead rest against the wall as he realized that there was no fucking way he was this wound up about a thousand-person crowd. He closed his eyes, and he reverted back to the timeless anxiety soothers; taking a few deep breaths and reminding himself that the crowd was just a bunch of kids and that it was just him going out and doing something he loved.
And after a few moments, despite being able to hear Yuu chuckling at him, he was at least relaxed enough to push himself off the wall, open his eyes, and then take another couple of deep breaths for good measure.
“Yeah, Ruki, remember to breathe, hmm? Wouldn’t want you to pass out on us or anything.” He rolled his eyes, and he could imagine Kouyou grinning as he pulled the singer to his side, messing with his hair as always and flashing a grin. “You’ll do fine, trust me. You’re a natural.” He grinned again, and then he released the singer from his hold, and he drifted off toward Yuu, most likely in search of a few good luck kisses.
Takanori chuckled, and he pushed at the rims of his glasses, a habit he thought he’d kicked months ago, and decided that if he lost his mind now, he’d be useless in the foreseeable future of Gazette, and he decided that they could be playing at the Budokan itself and he would have to just grin and keep breathing and for the love of God, Takanori, never stop singing.
And then the crowd seemed to be cheering louder, and Akira had appeared next to him, grinning and ruffling his hair as he said, “We’re up.” And Takanori was sure that his intestines had wrapped themselves around his stomach and jumped. He looked up at the bassist with what he hoped looked like a smile, and the bassist’s only response was a grin and a laugh.
Then, without time really passing, they were on the stage, and the house lights were dimming, and the stage lights were fading on, and Takanori made himself become Ruki as he smiled at the crowd, grasped the microphone, and pulled it from its stand. Immediately the crowd was cheering, and he felt an indescribable swell in his chest as the other members got situated, slinging their instruments over their shoulders, Yune settling into the stool behind the drum set.
And he felt the most incredible rush of adrenaline as a spotlight focused on him, and he flashed a grin at the crowd and introduced the band. He turned his head, and he grinned at the four men that had become his closest friends, and then he turned his attention to the crowd, thankful that ‘Ruki’ was less nervous than he was.
And then without hesitation, the live began. The band immediately dived into ‘Doro darake no seishun’, and Takanori was beaming inside and out as the crowd quite literally went ape-shit. Somehow, it was as if the entire crowd had seen their only marginally marketed PVs, and they all knew the lyrics, and the energy they were giving off was more intense and more powerful than just about every other live that he’d ever performed in.
And because the crowd was incredibly energetic and because he was doing just fine thanks to them and the band, Takanori was certain that he’d been way too nervous over something like this, and he knew that this was something he could do. He could write the words without a second thought, and he just knew that he’d be able to perform them, too. And it just felt so incredibly natural to have a microphone in his hand, and if he’d felt at home when he’d been Setsu Akane, he might as well have died and gone to heaven as Ruki.
This was what accomplishment felt like. This was happiness and this was adoration and this was acknowledgment and this was a huge fucking leap in the right direction, and he was just that much closer to accomplishing his dream.
This was where Takanori was meant to be.