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My Darling Please	By : Kryhs Category: J-Rock/J-Pop & K-Pop > Miyavi Views: 1171 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Miyavi. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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What you thought was the sound of one of the most wonderful guitarists in the world had actually been the sound of your heart breaking. And only because you were a smart person did you figure this out later, other wise it was so subtle that you would never have been able to tell. Even after so long it broke your heart to see him.What were those lyrics again? Something about being an easy lover..."she'll take your heart but you won't feel it". Only in this case the "she" was a "he" and just like the lyrics in one of his songs at one point he had you begging "Please, please oitekanaide...onegai!" so very long ago. It was so funny how something so little, so brief could effect you so deeply. But then again, it was said that the most mysterious of people had the ability to capture you in ways that no one else could. Which is exactly what he did; this guitar toting samurai. It amazed you to think that he was once your own, that you had once held his much larger frame in your arms and comforted those dark, steely, undecipherable eyes. You almost cried at the loss of his scent on your clothing and skin. It took your breath away and brought a stain of color to your cheeks just remembering what secrets the two of you shared, not for public eyes or ears. And it hurt you that there he was on television strumming and singing away as if nothing and no one had ever effected him as deeply as he had you.

You took a breath and watched his visage on the ten different sized televisions in a shop window. To others you were a typical pop-star gazer, but inside you were riding a rollercoaster of memories. It had been at least four years (going on five) since you had dared to watch anything about him for as long as you were now. Until now you hadn't allowed yourself the luxury of remembering all that you had been through. All that he had offered you and how one moment of betrayal on both parts had brought it all crashing down into a thousand pieces like broken glass. You'd like to think that his more "personal" songs were directed towards you, but you knew that there would be no such luck. It had been too long. Years in the life of a pop star meant thousands of people coming and going in your life on an almost daily basis. How old was he now? Thirty two? Thirty three? He had no doubt moved on, and so should you. But, because of your stubborn ways and cutting him out of your life entirely for so long, you had yet to reflect upon the good and the bad to come up with your own decision about what had really taken place so many years ago. And now seemed as good a time as ever.

So there you stood in front of an electronics shop reminiscing about the most androgynous man most people back home have ever seen and all that the two of you had been through. Under his stylish untamed mane of hair, through his Visualism and florescent colored clothing, behind the wild bohemian make up was a man that felt and dreamed louder than anyone you had ever known. Being with him was like being alive to the fullest capacity, and it scared the shit out of you. You who were used to your quiet bookstores and overpriced coffee shops, the presumed beatnik and silent lover of all types of music. You who had kept to yourself and lived on your own during college, even when you moved to an entirely knew country. You who had kept yourself in check and saved for the day when you would be married to "Mr. Right". You who, on more than one occasion, wondered what the fuck this eligible and talented man was doing with you and did not care at all only moments later when he made love to you in the most wonderful ways.

But, seeing his face and hearing him do what he did best with as much (if not more) passion as the last time you laid eyes on him made you ache with sadness and nostalgia, albeit the last time you saw him was in real life, his image blurry from the tears corroding their way down your cheeks.

It all started the last semester of college for you. You had transferred out of college in the United States to try your hand at International dealings, and what better way to do so than to cut yourself off from the Mother Land completely? It would be a complete overstatement to say that your first semester had gone wonderfully. Not only were your language skills horrible, but you didn't fit in at all. Most of the people you found were either too Pop or too Dark. Sitting somewhere in the middle, one would think that it was a perfect place to be to balance out the otherworldly madness that is Japan; but, no. That didn't happen for you at all. The more and more you tried to fit in, the more you found yourself being pulled away from who you really were. And as your ability to comprehend the difficult language grew and grew, you noticed that you weren't on the same honorific terms as others around you. You were the foreigner, the new kid, the dork from America who read manga in English and listened to show tunes. So you withdrew yourself and began focusing on goals that would be achieved in later years. The only pastime that you kept to yourself was dancing, how else were you supposed to keep your figure without doing something boring like excersizing? Sometimes late at night you would sneek down to the aerobics room with waxed hard wood floors in your dorm room and bring your radio. You would dance to anyting you felt like; Some nights it was House, some nights hip-hop, sometimes latin and others funk. It all depended on the mood you were in that day. Aside from your nightly escapades you built yourself a fortress of propriety and aloofness, all to keep yourself from feeling alone once again. Little did you know you would feel more alone than ever in two years time.

Golden Week during your Spring semester was spent alone as usual, or at least you had planned it to be. To keep you from seeming completely "emo-standoffish" you did have one friend you went out with, when the mood struck: Miyu, one of the most honest people you would ever come to know. She was the exact opposite of you, like a cute little dog that just kept yap-yap-yapping away. At first it was annoying how she was always harping about your appearance and attitude, it reminded you a lot of your mother...gag. But then her concern for your well being warmed you, made you feel at least a little appreciated, and you found yourself worrying when she hadn't contacted you within six to eight hours at a time. Her petite form and long straight hair made you green with envy, especially considering her hair was the rare red-brown color that most Japanese did not have. You had to remind yourself that even though Miyu was small and cute, she was a very sensitive time bomb just waiting to explode at the wrong word or look. Scary really, but she was a beautiful person, and you thanked God that she came into your life by tripping over your bag while carrying a tossed salad in the cafeteria, another day you had laughed without inhibition. Miyu had taken upon herself, the task of pulling you out of the emotional hole you dug yourself into, and when she told you her newly found quest you experienced the most enlightening amount of laughter since you had moved to the small island nation.

"I'm not joking Kalisu-chan!" she said in a high pitched voice with hurt expression pulled tight across her face.

You straightened your face as best as you could, for what you were about to say took a large amount of courage, "Krrrrissss...annunciate your 'r's Miyu-chan, Aaarrrrr's," you said making an elaborate over show of how to correctly pronounce your name. Miyu's little moon shaped face turned the shade of a strawberry and her cheeks puffed out giving her the looked of a seriously ticked off blowfish. You tightened your lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing, but as a little air escaped as a snort from your nose the bomb that is Miyu went off sending you into fits of giggles.

"I'm being serious over here and you're correcting my English?" she cried turning even more red, which didn't help at all, but she couldn't help it. Poor blowfish. You took a deep breath and sat up to look at her again. When you opened your mouth the only sound that escaped was a strangled wheeze like noise that erupted into another set of giggles, "OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!" She screamed and slammed her hand on the bed next to her.

"I can't help it Miyu-chan!" you said wiping the tears that began pooling at the corners of your eyes, "You're just so cute when you get angry. Like a...like a vermillion puffer fish!" The look she gave you was enough to kill the mood and you apologized quietly before straightening yourself out and gave he the "go-on-I'm-listening" face.

"So, as I was saying. Your boring life and depressing clothing is starting to effect me and then when I realized that your state of inexplicable unhappiness effected my day...needless to say I was a little pissed off."

"And, this is supposed to help me how?"

"Shut up, I'm not finished," your eyebrows shot up as she stood up and began pacing around the room. She moved from one side of the small dormitory bedroom to the other waving her hands around in grand gestures as if it would clarify what she was saying. She began on the topic of her brainstorming and how she noticed that you were a fan of good music. My, however did she come up with that? She must have really dug deep...cough. You had no clue when you had tuned her out but the last thing out of her mouth brought you crashing back into the room with a wide eyed expression, "So, what I've decided to do is get us both a job that will start during Golden Week and finish up in about six months! Isn't that exciting?!" she finished plopping onto your bed with a gleeful expression. You mouth had fallen open and you stared at her with the most incredulous look you could muster.

After blinking the shock from your eyes you stammered, "You did what now?!"

She smiled and continued as if it was her cue, "And not just any jobs, but paid internships with a record label!" After several moments of blank staring on your part she spoke up again, "Okay, so I didn't JUST do it for you, but still I think it would be a great opportunity for you to cut loose and let your potential become skill. Think about it, with this internship we can open up so many doors! Think of the possibilities!"

"Miyu..."

"Yes?"

"How did you get my information in order to fill out the Internship application?" you asked a little put off and confused as to how you landed an internship without filling out an application.

She blushed and mumbled so softly it almost sounded like a single word, "YouleftajobapplicationopenonyourlaptopsoIcopieditandusedtheinformationtosendinoneonline." You simply stared at her for what felt like hours as she fidgeted and squirmed under your scrutinizing gaze.

"I'm actually proud of you," you said after a while. This was the first time that Miyu had gone and done something to "improve your mood" without telling you first.

"Really?" She beamed.

"Yeah, I'm shocked and bubbling with pride because I was able to rub my conniving side into you somehow," you said with a laugh.

"Well, that's not the only thing that's going to make you proud then...." she trailed off, her smile growing wider by the second. There was no way that smile could mean something good for you.

X-x-X-x-X

God help Miyu because you were going to kill her. That's what was going to happen to her. You were going to get home, get a knife, stab her in the face with it, and she was going to die. How in the world did you allow her to talk you into this? Oh, that's right she has all of your personal information on file and can use it against you in evil minion-ey ways, that bitch. She had signed you up for Personal Assistant training, meaning that all of your language skills would be put to the test, as well as your social skills...or what little you had. How you had been chosen for the position of someone who needed to be a social butterfly, you had no idea. You supposed it was all part of Miyu's magic and the credentials you had received in school. Miyu had chosen music production as her forte, but then again this wasn't supposed to be a joy ride. It was "Natalie Reformation Vacation" and your nerves would be put to the test. All you hoped for was that you wouldn't get stuck with an up tight supervisor and a musician that completely freaked you out. Little did you know that the last part was exactly what you got. When you walked into the meeting room on the Monday of Golden Week you had no idea what to expect. There were so many suits in the room that you felt a little under dressed in your dark grey slacks, white blouse and black heels. At least you had the sense to wear black and sterling silver costume jewelry and a large black bangle to tie the outfit together. You wore very little make up: a touch of lip-gloss and dark eyeliner and mascara.

You were introduced to the head of staff, the company Vice President and his secretary and the assistants to the five major artists in the label you would be working with for the next six months. What remained to be seen was which artist's assistant would you be piggy backing for your time here, and from the looks of it none of them were very enthusiastic about taking on another burden.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said the elderly woman you would come to know as Uematsu-san, the head of staff at the PS Company label, "This is the newest addition to our ranks. Go on, sweetie, introduce yourself."

You smiled a little nervously and bowed as politely as you could, "Nice to meet you, my name is Kristina, but please call me Kris. I'm not very good with people but I promise I'll work hard."

The rest of the meeting went something like: "So, who do we drop her on? Kato, are you up for the challenge?"

"No, sir. I have enough trouble trying to keep my own artist taken care of with Tsurumaki-sama and Sugiyama-sama's artists completely devouring the main stream."

"Hey, that's not fair Kato-san! Tsurumaki-sama and I cannot help it that the fans are very supportive of them. We have nothing to do with public opinion."

"Sugiyama-sama is right," spoke up the VP, "the only thing you can do is try your hardest and hope that the fans go after the "bait", just like fishing. But, that still doesn't solve who is going to train the new intern."

"Well, what are you looking for us to teach her?"

"Everything..."

"..."

"Ikuhara-sama, your band is doing very well...why don't you train her? I'm sure it would be a better learning experience if she worked with an up and coming band like yours," said the woman named Sugiyama.

"Oh, no Sugiyama. I'm not falling for that, if you're so concerned about the girl's training why don't you do it yourself? Up and coming bands are much harder to deal with than already famous idols such as yours. Besides I'm sure he could use a new face in his life, along with the other thousand he sees in a day."

"Ikuhara!" barked the VP, "Remember your place, sir."

"Yes, Vice President Ota-san."

"I'll do it." Everyone in the room turned to look at Sugiyama, "I'll train her. She's not a piece of company property or a burden to be tossed around from person to person and spoken of as if she isn't in the room. We all were interns at one point, right Ikuhara-sama? So, what could be so difficult as helping out another person in their journey to being successful? What do you say, Karisu-chan?" she asked turning to you.

Was ANYONE going to get your name right in this country? "Hmm?"

"Do you mind being tied to me and having to deal with all my musical harping and nervous breakdowns?" she asked with a smile as the others passed a chuckle around the room.

You smiled and nodded, "I think I can handle it."

The meeting finished and you followed Sugiyama-san out of the room and down the hall to a set of elevators. After stepping in she began explaining what the job of an assistant was and how much stress it really caused.

"Especially when the artist in your charge decides to do things on a whim causing you and the rest of their production team to go into a panic and get it done on time..." she added with a slight hint of annoyance in her voice. She was an older woman, but not by much. Maybe in her early thirties or late twenties. Her hair was black and slightly wavy, maybe it was natural maybe it was a perm, who knows. Her skin tone was fair and her stature much taller than yours. She stood about five feet and eight inches, whereas you were only five feet on inch. Yes, feet and inches you were still from America remember? Her eyes were dark brown and very bright, as if she knew a secret that no one else in the world could hope to find out. It tickled you to see such a bubbly woman, and it also made you think of Miyu and the idea that she might end up like Sugiyama-san when she grew older, "Anyway," your new supervisor continued, "Normally you wouldn't meet the artist on the first day, but he's at a photo shoot and I have to pick him up myself to take him to his place. I could leave you here with a few projects but I'm already running late and I don't have time to show you what you need to do for those, so you'll just have to tag along."

"Oh, boo..." you said sarcastically with a smile on your face.

Sugiyama laughed, "I know, I'm sorry. It's barely your first day and already I'm throwing you into the midst of a demanding and oppressive entity. Forgive me."

"It's cool. Sounds a lot like my grandmother back home." You laughed. Maybe this wasn't going to be the most nerve grinding experience after all, "To be honest, I was scared I would seem rude or aloof. I'm not used to highly a social atmosphere."

"Ah, don't worry about it. All you have to know is when to be nice, when to be stern, and when to be a complete bitch."

"Oh, is that it? Sounds like I'll fit right in."

"That's the spirit, Kid!" she laughed as the two of you exited the elevator. She took you to the parking garage and led you to her car and a short while later you both pulled up in front of a large warehouse like building. You followed Sugiyama inside and, much to your surprise, saw that the inside was much cleaner than the outside made it seem. There were racks of outfits lined up everywhere, vanity mirrors and make up stations located near outlets as well as make up artists and hair dressers. In the simplest terms it was a giant photo shoot for you had no idea what or whom. But, this wasn't where the two of you were headed. You passed through the crowd of photographers and dressers and made your way to the back of the building where a young...person was seated on a couch that was covered in a paint stained black sheet. You thought this person was a female at first, but when the crew kept using the honorific 'kun' after their name you became confused. Also the lack of breasts did not help because most Japanese idols were very flat in the chest to begin with, but all was revealed once 'it' had said “thank you” to the photography crew and stood up to greet Sugiyama-san. The voice was very tener and two toned, something about it made you think of a very masculine figure hiding beneath all that make up, hair spray, and bright orange and pink color.

"Sugiyama-sama! I thought you would never come!" he said flitting his way over to her.

She rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip,"Stop being so dramatic. We have a new addition to our team, meet Natalie."

You had still been studying this young "man" and trying to decipher his sexuality (even though you were sure he was a man) when you were abruptly thrown into the conversation causing said young man to look at you. As your face heated and turned the shade of a cherry (damn nerves) you held out your hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm Kristina."

He smiled brilliantly and shook your hand, "Miyavi." And suddenly you felt as if he was staring right through you and...was he looking at your breasts?
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My Darling Please