Remix for rolling_scone
Title: roll of the die (Remix 21)
Rating: R
Group/Pairing: Tegoshi-centric, mild Tego/Massu
Warnings: murder, gore, hints at sexual situations, crazy shit
Notes: 21 has both the meaning of perfection as well as destruction; it's also the number of spots on your standard four-sided die. I took something cracky and turned it, uh, kind of crazy. Here's hoping it goes over well! XD; Thanks to the mods for being consistently great to deal with, my beta for being awesome, and rolling_scone for writing the original. :)
Link to Original Story: Murder in 20 scenes
Link to Original Writer: rolling_scone @ orchard_blossom
As a child, Tegoshi thrived off of praise. It was like a life-giving force, as important as food and drink and doled out just as often. His mother was the most handy at it.
You're such a pretty thing, she'd say. You're so wonderful, so perfect. You will do great things. You're a star.
Tegoshi had believed her. Why wouldn't he?
To a child, their mother was their God and that which they said their bible, and to go against them was to commit the most unthinkable of blasphemies. So Tegoshi believed. And when Mommy dressed him as a girl, he didn't question, nor when She made him grow his hair out long because it was Her will.
And when She strangled the neighbor's nasty cat after it scratched up Tegoshi's face, he'd realized it was just, because that was what Gods did, wasn't it? Smote the sinners and protected the righteous. Tegoshi was devout in his worship of his Mother, and thus he would be saved. He was Chosen.
Sending in the application to Johnny's was inevitable, as was Tegoshi's acceptance into the company. His life was a gilded road stretching out ahead of him; he merely had to travel it and ignore those who would try to get in his way.
There were a lot of those in the company. Spindly, rough little things. Some of them were bursting with talent like Tegoshi, and some were scrounging for whatever scraps they could find, hoping to cobble together something that would make them halfway marketable. Tegoshi had no patience for them. They weren't Chosen. They were as good as dirt beneath Tegoshi's heel.
But he hid his disdain well behind big dark eyes and clothing two sizes too large for him. Let them think Tegoshi was no contender. They would know the truth one day.
Meeting Masuda seemed like nothing of importance, though years later he would realize just how much of a godsend their coming together was. At the time, though, he regarded his senior as friendly but dumb. A lot like a big puppy, but one that was afraid of other puppies and obsessively cleaned itself like a cat. In short: a poor, dumb beast that had no idea what to do with itself.
But there was something under there, some modicum of usefulness that kept Tegoshi's eyes from moving past him like he was a bothersome thing. Something that made him pause. In a very short span of time, Tegoshi decided he liked Masuda and wanted him for his own.
It was almost depressingly easy. Just the right words and a few well-planned touches and Masuda was wrapped tight around his fingers. Tegoshi even gave him a name - Massu - to signify his ownership. That was, after all, what you did to pets, wasn't it?
Tegoshi doesn't remember what started The List. He's not even sure he really started it, so much as gave it form. In his mind, The List had always existed.
It made sense; there was a plan for Tegoshi's life. That there would be a plan for others was fitting. The problem lay in the fact that most people seemed entirely unaware of what their plan was.
Tegoshi was just happy to give those who he thought needed help a shove in the right direction.
Sakurai Sho had an inflated sense of self.
Some might say there was irony in Tegoshi being judgemental when it came to egotistical people, but Tegoshi knew his place, and acted accordingly. Sakurai, on the other hand, saw himself as something better. He had appointed himself to a position far out of his meager reach and needed to be dealt with accordingly.
Tegoshi smiled as he eyed the glass tank full of rabbits. Soft, cute, stupid little things. They would do nicely. He didn't want to hurt Sho, not really. Just slap him back to his own level.
That he would take Matsumoto down with him only sweetened the deal.
At first, Tegoshi had thought Yamashita something special. People certainly treated him like he was someone worthy of praise and adulation. Tegoshi thought he had found a kindred spirit and made no effort to hide his own admiration.
But as the years passed, so did the shiny veneer rub off, leaving something dirty and tarnished looking; rough around the edges and terrible. A drab little sparrow posing as an eagle.
For the first time, Tegoshi had felt outright offended by someone's existence. Usually he was more cautious, but he'd been angry and maybe just a bit irrational and Yamashita had really made it all too easy, loitering on the rooftop like an idiot.
Yamashita had thought himself an eagle, so Tegoshi had made him fly.
Nakamaru had never been a threat. He wasn't even worth the second glance normally. Tegoshi barely even noticed his existence.
But Massu liked Nakamaru, and Tegoshi didn't like Massu's attention being split between him and some no-name argyle-wearing fool. Massu was Tegoshi's. If Nakamaru had to feel his throat sliced open for Massu to learn a lesson, then so be it.
Tanaka, well, Tanaka had just been the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time. To be honest, Tegoshi had been considering it anyway. Filming a drama with him had been a total pain in the ass.
Tegoshi smiled and carded his hair through Massu's hair, watching from under hooded eyes as Massu worshiped him, kissing a line down Tegoshi's stomach. The lesson had been learned, it seemed, and Tegoshi was pleased.
He mentioned it later, lazing in leftover endorphins and maybe the faintest trace of something that resembled fondness. Massu's eyebrows drew together and asked what Nakamaru had to do with anything.
Tegoshi had just laughed and pet Massu softly on the head. He'd figure it out soon enough.
Plain and simple, Taguchi made Tegoshi uneasy. Not because of the horrible sense of humor or the unnatural sense of confidence he exuded when he walked into a room. No, it was something more sinister; a dangerous gleam in Taguchi's eye and a certain twist to his smile that said I know what you are and I know what you do. And, perhaps, You and I are not so different.
Tegoshi couldn't risk the competition.
After the incident with Sakurai and Matsumoto, the remaining members of Arashi had been wise enough to keep their distance. Tegoshi didn't really have much to worry about with them anyway. Ninomiya was too smart, Ohno too apathetic, and Aiba too much of an idiot.
At least, that had been Tegoshi's opinion in the beginning. The more he watched, the more he realized just how good of an actor Aiba was, both off stage and on. In a way, Aiba was the polar opposite of Yamashita. There was raw talent there in abundance, but he hid it behind the guise of a simpleton who parroted nonsensical English for a live audience. He was squandering himself.
That couldn't go unpunished.
He paused between hands just long enough to text Massu an order to be at Tegoshi's place in thirty minutes, and then he turned the pliers back to Aiba's trembling fingers.
"You know me," Tegoshi had said, all smiles and sweetness and ready to jump in Shige's pants the second he was allowed. Or, conversely, to force his way if Shige continued to hedge. Either was was doable, but Tegoshi would rather take the easy method. After all, he sort of liked Shige.
But the opportunity slipped from his fingers like so much water. Shige shook his head and removed himself from the couch, a little wide in the eyes and totally unbelieving. Tegoshi watched Shige's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "No, I really don't."
Takizawa had been vanity Tegoshi's part. The man was like a god among Johnny's, albeit a creepy, shifty one. Tegoshi wasn't sure if the rumors of pederasty were entirely true but that didn't mean he hadn't taken them into consideration. Every lie had to have a sliver of truth in order to be truly believable.
Tegoshi was merely testing a theory. If Takizawa was foolish enough to fall under the weight of his own arrogance, then he didn't deserve his position in the first place. Tegoshi smiled as he placed the brochures on the dressing room table; he was more than happy to take Takizawa's place.
"Shige says you've been strange lately," Massu had said, trying to talk around the spoonful of ice cream Tegoshi was shoving into his mouth.
Tegoshi ran a thumb across Massu's bottom lip and, having wiped the melting ice cream up satisfactorily, popped the digit into Massu's mouth. A slow grin spread across his face as Massu obediently sucked his thumb dry. "Shige used to say a lot of things."
The warmth of Massu's mouth was gone suddenly. Massu was making that stupid face again, the one that meant he had no idea what Tegoshi was talking about, as if Tegoshi was the one who had something wrong with his logic. A long beat passed before Massu began to speak slowly. "I just saw Shige this afternoon."
"I'm sure you did." Tegoshi smiled as he picked up the bowl and scooped out another spoonful of ice cream. Massu was still giving him an odd look, but even his wariness was no match for his gluttony, and he accepted the spoon into his mouth again. Explaining these things to Massu never went well - he was too stubborn, liked to hold onto his illusions. It was easier to humor him and change the subject. They'd never been on the same mental level, but Tegoshi was willing to lower himself just enough to meet Massu halfway. After all, he had always been a loyal pet.
Experience as dressing as the opposite sex was something Tegoshi had in spades. It was an art form he'd been taught in since early childhood. If anyone in their company could be considered a master of drag, Tegoshi would be it.
That was why it irritated him so much to see the shoddy work his co-hornts tried to pass off as crossdressing. Most of it he could turn a blind eye to, the transformation done purposefully messy for comedy. Others had walked the line between class and trash too closely, swaying back and forth like a tightrope walker. Tegoshi had watched them all with sharp eyes, waiting for that one misstep.
Kamenashi had barrelled across that line like a cannonball shot low over Tegoshi's bow. Worse, he brought Akanishi along with him. There would be no forgiveness for that.
It would have been easy enough to slip into something feminine and do the deed. Fitting, even. But the offense was so great that just looking at them in their sloppy drag disgusted him. So he outsourced and he waited.
The night of the hit, Tegoshi wore his favorite pair of white thigh-high stockings and made Massu pull them off him with his teeth.
Like Yamapi, Tegoshi had initially thought Nishikido something special. He'd even convinced himself that the man was worth saving for a while. If it weren't for that snippy little mouth of his, Nishikido would've been just fine.
Tegoshi might have been patient but he had his pride and coral snakes were surprisingly easy to come by, if you knew the right places to look.
Koyama was too clingy, too willing. Tegoshi had almost felt bad as he'd thrown the toaster into the water and watched the body jitter. Nosiness wasn't only unattractive; it was dangerous. Deadly, even.
Shocking he thought with a grin, and then wondered if perhaps Massu was rubbing off on him a little too much.
Tegoshi had felt bad for Ueda, though. Grief was hard to deal with, even if the one you grieved over wasn't deserving of your sympathy. He patted Ueda on the head soothingly and hushed him as he'd fumbled with the razor blades. Tegoshi was nothing if not merciful.
Massu was being unreasonable.
He was upset about their dwindling number of co-workers, though he appeared to be under the misconception that they were still alive and just avoiding Tegoshi. Poor Massu. He always had been more adept in the physical than the mental.
Tegoshi went to console him, pat him on the head and tell him how silly he was being, but this only seemed to make Massu's temper worse. He was being hateful, and Tegoshi told him as much. If Massu kept up this sort of appalling behavior, he'd show up on The List, too.
Finally understanding his place, Massu stilled, bewildered. "What list?"
So Tegoshi showed it to him.
He stared out the window at the passing scenery and didn't really see any of it, feeling too peaceful to care.
Finally, they were taking him away from all the gutter trash they populated their company with. No doubt they'd finally realized how much irritation they'd caused him by making him deal with simpletons constantly. The management had used words like 'intervention' and 'rehabilitation', as if there was something wrong with Tegoshi, but he'd just smiled indulgently. Whatever made it easier for them to wrap their minds around it. They weren't Chosen. They couldn't understand.
Massu had looked apologetic and frightened, no doubt worried that he'd overstepped his bounds in trying to regain Tegoshi's favour. But Tegoshi just smiled serenely. He'd done a good thing for once. Tegoshi knew he'd come in handy one day.
As he was being escorted to the van, someone had said just like his mother and Tegoshi had felt so proud he was near to bursting.
"They're not dead, Tegoshi. None of them are."
Tegoshi sighed, toyed with the teddy bear Massu had brought him a few weeks back. The supplements they gave him made his patience grow thin, and Massu's stubbornness hacked away at the tenuous string like a great clumsy fool. "Massu, you're going to have to come to terms with it one day."
Now it was Massu's turn to sigh. Tegoshi watched as his expression shifted from condescension to fear to what looked like pity. He took Tegoshi's hands in his own and began speaking in a low voice, like he was talking to a frightened animal. Tegoshi tuned him out, eyes travelling to the TV behind Massu's head. The volume was too low for him to hear, but he could see Shokura - obviously a rerun, since Nakamaru and Koyama were jabbering on like idiots - displayed proudly in all of its besequined glory. A gaggle of juniors were frolicking across the stage, bright-eyed and badly tuned and each one begging to be offed in a new and horrible way.
"Massu," Tegoshi said loftily, cutting over whatever the other man had been babbling about, "do you think they'd give me an allowance for parties?"
And so the list grew.
Rating: R
Group/Pairing: Tegoshi-centric, mild Tego/Massu
Warnings: murder, gore, hints at sexual situations, crazy shit
Notes: 21 has both the meaning of perfection as well as destruction; it's also the number of spots on your standard four-sided die. I took something cracky and turned it, uh, kind of crazy. Here's hoping it goes over well! XD; Thanks to the mods for being consistently great to deal with, my beta for being awesome, and rolling_scone for writing the original. :)
Link to Original Story: Murder in 20 scenes
Link to Original Writer: rolling_scone @ orchard_blossom
As a child, Tegoshi thrived off of praise. It was like a life-giving force, as important as food and drink and doled out just as often. His mother was the most handy at it.
You're such a pretty thing, she'd say. You're so wonderful, so perfect. You will do great things. You're a star.
Tegoshi had believed her. Why wouldn't he?
To a child, their mother was their God and that which they said their bible, and to go against them was to commit the most unthinkable of blasphemies. So Tegoshi believed. And when Mommy dressed him as a girl, he didn't question, nor when She made him grow his hair out long because it was Her will.
And when She strangled the neighbor's nasty cat after it scratched up Tegoshi's face, he'd realized it was just, because that was what Gods did, wasn't it? Smote the sinners and protected the righteous. Tegoshi was devout in his worship of his Mother, and thus he would be saved. He was Chosen.
Sending in the application to Johnny's was inevitable, as was Tegoshi's acceptance into the company. His life was a gilded road stretching out ahead of him; he merely had to travel it and ignore those who would try to get in his way.
There were a lot of those in the company. Spindly, rough little things. Some of them were bursting with talent like Tegoshi, and some were scrounging for whatever scraps they could find, hoping to cobble together something that would make them halfway marketable. Tegoshi had no patience for them. They weren't Chosen. They were as good as dirt beneath Tegoshi's heel.
But he hid his disdain well behind big dark eyes and clothing two sizes too large for him. Let them think Tegoshi was no contender. They would know the truth one day.
Meeting Masuda seemed like nothing of importance, though years later he would realize just how much of a godsend their coming together was. At the time, though, he regarded his senior as friendly but dumb. A lot like a big puppy, but one that was afraid of other puppies and obsessively cleaned itself like a cat. In short: a poor, dumb beast that had no idea what to do with itself.
But there was something under there, some modicum of usefulness that kept Tegoshi's eyes from moving past him like he was a bothersome thing. Something that made him pause. In a very short span of time, Tegoshi decided he liked Masuda and wanted him for his own.
It was almost depressingly easy. Just the right words and a few well-planned touches and Masuda was wrapped tight around his fingers. Tegoshi even gave him a name - Massu - to signify his ownership. That was, after all, what you did to pets, wasn't it?
Tegoshi doesn't remember what started The List. He's not even sure he really started it, so much as gave it form. In his mind, The List had always existed.
It made sense; there was a plan for Tegoshi's life. That there would be a plan for others was fitting. The problem lay in the fact that most people seemed entirely unaware of what their plan was.
Tegoshi was just happy to give those who he thought needed help a shove in the right direction.
Sakurai Sho had an inflated sense of self.
Some might say there was irony in Tegoshi being judgemental when it came to egotistical people, but Tegoshi knew his place, and acted accordingly. Sakurai, on the other hand, saw himself as something better. He had appointed himself to a position far out of his meager reach and needed to be dealt with accordingly.
Tegoshi smiled as he eyed the glass tank full of rabbits. Soft, cute, stupid little things. They would do nicely. He didn't want to hurt Sho, not really. Just slap him back to his own level.
That he would take Matsumoto down with him only sweetened the deal.
At first, Tegoshi had thought Yamashita something special. People certainly treated him like he was someone worthy of praise and adulation. Tegoshi thought he had found a kindred spirit and made no effort to hide his own admiration.
But as the years passed, so did the shiny veneer rub off, leaving something dirty and tarnished looking; rough around the edges and terrible. A drab little sparrow posing as an eagle.
For the first time, Tegoshi had felt outright offended by someone's existence. Usually he was more cautious, but he'd been angry and maybe just a bit irrational and Yamashita had really made it all too easy, loitering on the rooftop like an idiot.
Yamashita had thought himself an eagle, so Tegoshi had made him fly.
Nakamaru had never been a threat. He wasn't even worth the second glance normally. Tegoshi barely even noticed his existence.
But Massu liked Nakamaru, and Tegoshi didn't like Massu's attention being split between him and some no-name argyle-wearing fool. Massu was Tegoshi's. If Nakamaru had to feel his throat sliced open for Massu to learn a lesson, then so be it.
Tanaka, well, Tanaka had just been the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time. To be honest, Tegoshi had been considering it anyway. Filming a drama with him had been a total pain in the ass.
Tegoshi smiled and carded his hair through Massu's hair, watching from under hooded eyes as Massu worshiped him, kissing a line down Tegoshi's stomach. The lesson had been learned, it seemed, and Tegoshi was pleased.
He mentioned it later, lazing in leftover endorphins and maybe the faintest trace of something that resembled fondness. Massu's eyebrows drew together and asked what Nakamaru had to do with anything.
Tegoshi had just laughed and pet Massu softly on the head. He'd figure it out soon enough.
Plain and simple, Taguchi made Tegoshi uneasy. Not because of the horrible sense of humor or the unnatural sense of confidence he exuded when he walked into a room. No, it was something more sinister; a dangerous gleam in Taguchi's eye and a certain twist to his smile that said I know what you are and I know what you do. And, perhaps, You and I are not so different.
Tegoshi couldn't risk the competition.
After the incident with Sakurai and Matsumoto, the remaining members of Arashi had been wise enough to keep their distance. Tegoshi didn't really have much to worry about with them anyway. Ninomiya was too smart, Ohno too apathetic, and Aiba too much of an idiot.
At least, that had been Tegoshi's opinion in the beginning. The more he watched, the more he realized just how good of an actor Aiba was, both off stage and on. In a way, Aiba was the polar opposite of Yamashita. There was raw talent there in abundance, but he hid it behind the guise of a simpleton who parroted nonsensical English for a live audience. He was squandering himself.
That couldn't go unpunished.
He paused between hands just long enough to text Massu an order to be at Tegoshi's place in thirty minutes, and then he turned the pliers back to Aiba's trembling fingers.
"You know me," Tegoshi had said, all smiles and sweetness and ready to jump in Shige's pants the second he was allowed. Or, conversely, to force his way if Shige continued to hedge. Either was was doable, but Tegoshi would rather take the easy method. After all, he sort of liked Shige.
But the opportunity slipped from his fingers like so much water. Shige shook his head and removed himself from the couch, a little wide in the eyes and totally unbelieving. Tegoshi watched Shige's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "No, I really don't."
Takizawa had been vanity Tegoshi's part. The man was like a god among Johnny's, albeit a creepy, shifty one. Tegoshi wasn't sure if the rumors of pederasty were entirely true but that didn't mean he hadn't taken them into consideration. Every lie had to have a sliver of truth in order to be truly believable.
Tegoshi was merely testing a theory. If Takizawa was foolish enough to fall under the weight of his own arrogance, then he didn't deserve his position in the first place. Tegoshi smiled as he placed the brochures on the dressing room table; he was more than happy to take Takizawa's place.
"Shige says you've been strange lately," Massu had said, trying to talk around the spoonful of ice cream Tegoshi was shoving into his mouth.
Tegoshi ran a thumb across Massu's bottom lip and, having wiped the melting ice cream up satisfactorily, popped the digit into Massu's mouth. A slow grin spread across his face as Massu obediently sucked his thumb dry. "Shige used to say a lot of things."
The warmth of Massu's mouth was gone suddenly. Massu was making that stupid face again, the one that meant he had no idea what Tegoshi was talking about, as if Tegoshi was the one who had something wrong with his logic. A long beat passed before Massu began to speak slowly. "I just saw Shige this afternoon."
"I'm sure you did." Tegoshi smiled as he picked up the bowl and scooped out another spoonful of ice cream. Massu was still giving him an odd look, but even his wariness was no match for his gluttony, and he accepted the spoon into his mouth again. Explaining these things to Massu never went well - he was too stubborn, liked to hold onto his illusions. It was easier to humor him and change the subject. They'd never been on the same mental level, but Tegoshi was willing to lower himself just enough to meet Massu halfway. After all, he had always been a loyal pet.
Experience as dressing as the opposite sex was something Tegoshi had in spades. It was an art form he'd been taught in since early childhood. If anyone in their company could be considered a master of drag, Tegoshi would be it.
That was why it irritated him so much to see the shoddy work his co-hornts tried to pass off as crossdressing. Most of it he could turn a blind eye to, the transformation done purposefully messy for comedy. Others had walked the line between class and trash too closely, swaying back and forth like a tightrope walker. Tegoshi had watched them all with sharp eyes, waiting for that one misstep.
Kamenashi had barrelled across that line like a cannonball shot low over Tegoshi's bow. Worse, he brought Akanishi along with him. There would be no forgiveness for that.
It would have been easy enough to slip into something feminine and do the deed. Fitting, even. But the offense was so great that just looking at them in their sloppy drag disgusted him. So he outsourced and he waited.
The night of the hit, Tegoshi wore his favorite pair of white thigh-high stockings and made Massu pull them off him with his teeth.
Like Yamapi, Tegoshi had initially thought Nishikido something special. He'd even convinced himself that the man was worth saving for a while. If it weren't for that snippy little mouth of his, Nishikido would've been just fine.
Tegoshi might have been patient but he had his pride and coral snakes were surprisingly easy to come by, if you knew the right places to look.
Koyama was too clingy, too willing. Tegoshi had almost felt bad as he'd thrown the toaster into the water and watched the body jitter. Nosiness wasn't only unattractive; it was dangerous. Deadly, even.
Shocking he thought with a grin, and then wondered if perhaps Massu was rubbing off on him a little too much.
Tegoshi had felt bad for Ueda, though. Grief was hard to deal with, even if the one you grieved over wasn't deserving of your sympathy. He patted Ueda on the head soothingly and hushed him as he'd fumbled with the razor blades. Tegoshi was nothing if not merciful.
Massu was being unreasonable.
He was upset about their dwindling number of co-workers, though he appeared to be under the misconception that they were still alive and just avoiding Tegoshi. Poor Massu. He always had been more adept in the physical than the mental.
Tegoshi went to console him, pat him on the head and tell him how silly he was being, but this only seemed to make Massu's temper worse. He was being hateful, and Tegoshi told him as much. If Massu kept up this sort of appalling behavior, he'd show up on The List, too.
Finally understanding his place, Massu stilled, bewildered. "What list?"
So Tegoshi showed it to him.
He stared out the window at the passing scenery and didn't really see any of it, feeling too peaceful to care.
Finally, they were taking him away from all the gutter trash they populated their company with. No doubt they'd finally realized how much irritation they'd caused him by making him deal with simpletons constantly. The management had used words like 'intervention' and 'rehabilitation', as if there was something wrong with Tegoshi, but he'd just smiled indulgently. Whatever made it easier for them to wrap their minds around it. They weren't Chosen. They couldn't understand.
Massu had looked apologetic and frightened, no doubt worried that he'd overstepped his bounds in trying to regain Tegoshi's favour. But Tegoshi just smiled serenely. He'd done a good thing for once. Tegoshi knew he'd come in handy one day.
As he was being escorted to the van, someone had said just like his mother and Tegoshi had felt so proud he was near to bursting.
"They're not dead, Tegoshi. None of them are."
Tegoshi sighed, toyed with the teddy bear Massu had brought him a few weeks back. The supplements they gave him made his patience grow thin, and Massu's stubbornness hacked away at the tenuous string like a great clumsy fool. "Massu, you're going to have to come to terms with it one day."
Now it was Massu's turn to sigh. Tegoshi watched as his expression shifted from condescension to fear to what looked like pity. He took Tegoshi's hands in his own and began speaking in a low voice, like he was talking to a frightened animal. Tegoshi tuned him out, eyes travelling to the TV behind Massu's head. The volume was too low for him to hear, but he could see Shokura - obviously a rerun, since Nakamaru and Koyama were jabbering on like idiots - displayed proudly in all of its besequined glory. A gaggle of juniors were frolicking across the stage, bright-eyed and badly tuned and each one begging to be offed in a new and horrible way.
"Massu," Tegoshi said loftily, cutting over whatever the other man had been babbling about, "do you think they'd give me an allowance for parties?"
And so the list grew.