Rehearsal
by Kioku and Mistress Triumph
Alright. *deep breath* This being my first fic that is entirely YYH, I will do
this right.
This is a Braveheart fusion/songfic...? *ducks* I know it sounds rather stupid,
but I couldn't resist Hiei in a kilt. I wrote this with my girlfriend Mistress
Triumph.
Tri: *waves* Hi, people I don't know!
This is just the rehearsal bit before anything real even thinks about starting.
It was written because I needed to include the line, "Kurama, how d’ye
get these kilts on, again?” I've added the cast list at the bottom to clear up
who's who, since it is rather confusing. Scratch that. It's completely
confusing.
So...
Author: Kioku and Mistress Triumph
e-mail addresses: kioku_soshitsu@hotmail.com; mistresstriumph@hotmail.com
Category: *sweatdrop* I have to pick one? Well, um... we came up with 5. Well,
we decided on *Conflict*, since it's "Braveheart".
With no further ado, on to the.. uh... well, just on.
~*Rehearsal*~
~*~
by Kioku and Mistress Triumph
Disclaimer: YYH does not belong to us. Braveheart dinnae belong to us. The song,
“March of Cambreadth” does not belong to us. We own nothing but the computer
and our anime collections. And eight cats. Don’t sue. No $.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Kurama, how d’ye get these kilts on, again?” asked an irate fire demon
with a bad Scottish accent.
“That’s not proper English.”
“No, it’s proper Scottish!”
Kurama sweatdropped. “Right. Hiei, you don’t have to speak like that *all*
the time, you know,” the redhead said, watching as the Jaganshi struggled into
the plaid garment.
“Ay’m just tryin ta get inta ma character,” he replied. After a few more
moments of straining, he got the kilt on. He looked down at the bagpipes sitting
on the floor. And looked some more. “Ah think not.”
Kurama sighed just as the wardrobe manager rounded the corner. The small man
hefted a large plastic-wrapped article of clothing in his arms, thrusting it at
the human-turned-youko. “This is your costume. Please try it on and let us
know of any problems as soon as possible,” the balding man murmured, and
hurried away. Kurama shrugged, opened the plastic, and his green eyes nearly
bugged out of their sockets.
“WAITAMINUTE! This is a *dress*!” he screeched, waving the bejeweled thing
around madly. “How am I supposed to wear this! Look at the neckline! I
haven’t got *any* bust! Let alone enough to fill…fill…that!”
Hiei looked up from the bagpipes and smirked at Kurama. “Whar’s yer French
accent, lad?”
The redhead glared. “Moi? O! ‘Ow could I ’ave forgotten!” He put a hand
to his forehead, feigning dramatics.
“Hn. Idiotic fox,” he murmured. “Ya dun’t have ta be so melodramatic.”
Kurama clutched the abhorred dress to his chest, batting his eyelashes. “O!
But, mon ami, I must disgust you! ’Aving forgotten ze most important part of
my role!” He made a face. “My throat is gonna give out after an hour of
this. I just know it,” he said in his normal tones.
“At least ye dun’t have ta wear a skirt! Hey, wait a minute. Aren’t ya a
prince? Why are ya wearin a dress?”
Someone snickered from behind the lunch tables where all the goodies to snack on
during production were kept. Kurama stepped up to it, listened a little closer
as another chortle sounded out, and whipped up the tablecloth hiding what was
beneath.
Koronue’s big blue eyes blinked up at him.
“Kisama! This is all your doing, isn’t it?!” Kurama bristled. Had he been
in youko form, his ears would have been flat against his skull.
“I’m here ta watch your back, old friend. That doesn’t mean I can’t have
a bit o fun,” the bat youkai retorted.
“Actually, yar here ta watch *my* back, not ’is,” Hiei stated. It should
be noted that his accent was getting better.
Kurama sniffed. “I’m still not happy about the dress.”
The wardrobe manager returned. “I made a mistake. *This* is your real
costume.”
Kurama took one look at the thing and balked. “Who the hell is supplying these
things?! Maybe Hiei could fit into those pants, but I certainly am not going to
try!”
“Well, Mr. ‘Star’, that’s what you’re getting! Take it or leave it. Of
course, if you *really* want to go out there with no pants…”
“Fine! Fine! I’ll wear…it…” Kurama ripped the outfit out of the stout
man’s hands and headed for his dressing room.
“What’s wrong with ’im?” Hiei asked. He had finally given up on the
bagpipes and burned them in a flash of black fire.
A prop person came running out frantically. “How could you!? Those were $2,000
bagpipes that you just destroyed! You’re paying for those!”
“Talk ta my lawyer.”
“You… you… bastard!!”
“Are ye tryin to insult me? Ah’ve been called worse by a baby.”
The prop person shook from barely contained rage. “You’ll. Be. Hearing.
From. Us.” He bit off every word like it would sting him. Then he turned
sharply one heel and stalked out of the room.
Koronue snickered. “Baby, eh?”
“It was a youkai, but ’twas still a baby.” By now, his accent was almost
perfect. Except for the awkward way he wore his kilt, and his abnormal hair one
could almost mistake him for a native.
Koronue shrugged. “I can see yer point,” he started, his Irish accent
nowhere near right. “Well, I best be gettin’ to the other dressing areas. I
made some other ‘alterations’ to the costume list.” He winked and left.
“So, Kurama, are ye having trouble? Ye’ve been in thar for awhile.” Hiei
raised his voice as he stepped up beside Kurama’s door to make sure the boy
could hear him.
“They want me to wear this in public? How could they… what are they…have
they no fashion sense!?” The redhead’s muffled complaints rang through the
wooden panel.
“How’m ah supposed ta know? Ah can’t see what yer wearin!”
“Trust me, you don’t want to see.”
“Are ye going to be wearing that when ah kiss ye?”
A pause.
“We’re nude in that scene, Hiei. Remember?”
“We are? Ah guess ah should’ve read the script more carefully.”
A sigh fluttered in the room. Then, the doorknob turned. Kurama stepped out.
“Fine, fine. Here I am,” he grumbled, pulling the door shut behind him.
Hiei gaped. “What the ’ell is that?!? It looks like a cross between a poodle
and a wetsuit!”
“I think its one of Prince’s (or, the artist formerly known as) old
jumpsuits…”
The wardrobe manager popped in again. “Actually, it’s a vintage replica
thing from France, circa 1300 AD.”
Both Hiei and Kurama sweatdropped. “Riiiiiiight…” The Scottish and French
accents clashed, but who cares? At least they’re in character now.
“Look, cue ball, I don’t care if its one of Elvis’s undergarments. This
thing is getting trashed, and I’m getting my own costume!” Kurama shouted,
walked back in his room, slammed the door behind him, and began a series of
long, detailed phone calls.
Hiei blinked. Kuwabara walked into the room, dressed in his costume as future
King of Scotland. *His* costume looked good on him, unlike Kurama’s. However,
the shoes did not match, courtesy of Koronue.
“Hello, shrimp. Ah’ve landed a better role than yers, ah see. *I’m* the
future King, and yer only a rebel without a cause.”
“Ah dun’t know if ye’ve realized this, Kuwabara, but the title of the
piece refers to *my* character, and I ’ave more screen time than you. Plus, I
get Yukina,” he threw that last bit in, not to be incestuous, but to make the
ningen angry.
“Ye little bastard! Yukina is mine!”
“Not today.”
“I’ll… I’ll *kill* ye!”
“Sorry, ye can’t. Didn’t ye read the script? That’s Karasu’s job. I
think ’e was jealous of me and Kurama.”
“That ain’t proper English, Braveheart,” Kuwabara asserted.
“Ah know that! It’s proper Scottish!”
“Ah can’t believe the two of us are going to have to get along for this.”
“Neither can I. Ah hope I can refrain from killin ye.”
“Well, since ah can’t be with Yukina during the filming, ah’m gonna go be
with her now,” Kuwabara informed Hiei.
“Ye stay away from her! She’s too good fer ye.”
Kuwabara didn’t listen, but instead walked out to find his love.
At that exact moment an errand boy rushed past, knocking hard on Kurama’s
door. The panel cracked open, whispered words were exchanged, the door closed
after the boy gave Kurama a large box, and then he left.
“Thank Inari-sama! Real clothes!” Kurama gushed from inside the room, and
the sound of tearing cardboard was heard.
“Are they as ‘real’ as what ye wear when ye’re a youko?”
Kurama snickered. “Well, ningen clothes actually cover the skin, so the answer
to that would be no.”
Hiei blushed. “Ah’m goin to another room now. I want to see what everyone
else is wearing. I feel better in ma kilt, so ah’m not embarrassed for them to
see me anymore.”
“Wait, wait! I’m almost <grunt> finished,” Kurama pleaded, slipping
into his new outfit. Hiei complied, leaning against the wall with his arms
crossed over his chest, watching the staff and cast bustle by. After a minute or
two the door swung open and Kurama stepped out, a smug and satisfied look on his
face.
He was dressed head to toe in white silk, silver cords tying a tunic tightly
closed around his neck, loose pants flattering his slender figure. He looked
considerably more comfortable in the loose confines of his ensemble than the
spandex-ridden hell of before.
“They look like yar youko clothes with a little more substance to me,” Hiei
declared.
Kurama flipped his heavy cape over one shoulder, adjusting his cuffs. He winked.
“Less to take off, ne?”
“Ah suppose… Can ah leave now?”
Kurama frowned. “Fine. Go on and wander. I think I’ll go show that moron who
calls himself costume designer a thing or two about class.” With a flick of
red hair and white, he was gone.
“Hn. Crazy red roan.” (1)
Hiei set off for the other dressing room, where the characters on the side of
the English generally were. Koenma was struggling into tights and complaining
the whole time about how degrading it was for a Reikai prince to have to wear
‘girl’s clothes’.
“—and do they have to be bright yellow? Bright yellow tights! I’m not a
circus clown, for Enma’s sake.”
“Calm down, Koenma-sama,” Botan soothed. “You only have to wear it for the
duration of the filming, and then you can burn it.”
“I heard that!” the wardrobe manager yelled from the hall. “There will be
no more destroying of Reikai Pictures property. Between that midget and the
costume sabotager we’re already behind almost $3,000. No more! No burning!”
“Well, at least you can turn them in and you’ll never have to see them
again.”
“Alright…” Koenma agreed dubiously.
Yusuke stepped out of his dressing room wearing a coarse, heavy shirt and plaid
kilt. “If anyone laughs, Ah’m goin ta shoot them.”
“No, you won’t,” Koenma corrected. “I turned off everyone’s powers
until the end of filming. All except Hiei, because he needs them for certain
scenes.”
“So he can shoot lightning bolts from his arse?” Yusuke inquired.
“Absolutely not!!” Koenma shouted, cinnamon eyes going wide. “That would
hurt!”
Yukina, who had heard just enough of the conversation while waltzing into the
hallway, giggled. Kuwabara came in right behind her.
“Oh, ma fair Ice Maiden, wilt thou be ma wife?”
Koenma leaned over to whisper into Botan’s ear. “We can’t give first right
to the nobles when Yukina is involved. Hiei would have a fit.” Botan’s eyes
went saucer size.
“Oh…dear…”
Hiei walked in. “Ah heard that!”
“How? I was whispering,” Koenma defended himself.
“Ah’m a youkai. Ah ’ave good hearing.”
Koenma sweatdropped. “Hey, it was true, wasn’t it?”
Hiei glowered.
“What’d ya say, Koenma?” Yusuke wondered.
“Nothing of consequence!” the Prince of the Dead answered a little too
quickly. Botan blinked.
“I would say it had a pretty big consequence…” she mumbled.
Hiei glared at her with his Glare Of Death TM .
Kurama waltzed in, dusting his hands off. “Well, I think baldy’s self-esteem
just plunged to new lows… hey, what’s with all the serious faces?”
“Ah dun’t know. No one will tell me anything,” Yusuke complained.
“There’s nothing to tell!” Koenma upheld.
“Okay, okay, I think rehearsals are about to start,” Kurama said, refusing
to use his French accent.
They all began to shuffle out and head towards the set, ready to do the final
(and Karasu’s personal favorite) scene.
Speaking of Karasu, the arch villain swept onto the set as they entered,
dazzling in jewels and silks for his role. The metal mask was missing, however,
and his sinister smirk made them all a little nervous. He put a hand on his hip,
meeting Hiei’s eyes.
“Ready to be drawn and quartered, disemboweled, and then,” he made a sharp
motion with his hand at his throat, “beheaded?” He raised a pencil thin
brow.
“Ye’re sick. No wonder Kurama doesn’t like ye,” the fire demon
responded.
The afore-mentioned redhead was glaring. “Moi gets ze feeling zat you are
enjoying dis far more zan you should be, Karasu?” Kurama asked, hands
clenched, using his accent now that the director was present.
The enemy smirked. “Because I am, my dear.”
“...”
“Ok, ok, people!” the director strode up, a heavy clipboard in one hand, a
Mars Bar in the other. “Let’s get this scene going! Karasu… Karasu?
You’re supposed to be dying right now, not at Hiei’s execution.” The man
blinked.
“Die! Die ah say!” Hiei cried, fed up with that freak making passes at *his*
Kurama.
“No, no, no, no. You first, I insist,” Karasu answered richly, giving a
sweeping bow towards the wooden rack behind him. Kurama, once again, glared.
The director quickly checked the script at hand. “No, Karasu, you die
first.”
The tall ‘King of England’ examined his nails. “I have bombs.”
“Ok, Hiei dies first!”
Hiei cleared his throat. “Ah have a katana.”
“Karasu, you expire first.”
“I have henchmen.”
“Hiei, say bye-bye!”
“Ah have a Kokuryuuha.”
“Karasu—”
“I have,” the blue-haired demon reached out snagged Kurama by the arm,
pulling him close to him. “Kurama.” He smiled as Kurama tried to bat him
away.
“Ye most certainly do not. ’e’s mine. Ye can even ask him yerself,” Hiei
stated.
Kurama sighed. If he were a fire hydrant, he surely would have been peed on by
now. “I’m property. Stick a trespassing sign on me.”
“Dun’t ye mean a ‘*no* trespassing’ sign?” Yusuke inquired.
Kurama banged his head up against the nearest immobile object, which in this
case would be Karasu.
“Can we please just get started? The quicker we finish, the quicker ah can be
with Yukina again,” Kuwabara whined.
“Can’t ye just shut up about ma sister for 5 minutes?!” Hiei yelled.
“Can’t you *both* just s’ut up and ’elp me?!” Kurama demanded, then
yelped as Karasu’s hands went somewhere they definitely didn’t belong.
“Karasu, ah’m only goin to ask ye once. Release the fox,” Hiei demanded.
“Oui! Release ze fox!” Kurama agreed, ready to bring out the heavy
artillery. If his Rose Whip wouldn’t keep Karasu at bay, he didn’t know what
could. Maybe Hiei. No, unquestionably Hiei.
“Fox? I see no fox here,” Karasu said, looking around with falsely
bewildered eyes. “All I see is a beautiful, sexy, redheaded –”
“Stop right thar. That beautiful, sexy, redheaded whatever is *mine*.” Hiei
sounded as deadly as one could when one is speaking in a Scottish accent. Kurama
smiled, and Karasu sneered.
The director didn’t dare intervene. He liked all his limbs where they were,
thankyouverymuch.
“Fine,” Karasu shoved Kurama away, who tripped and landed face up between
Hiei’s legs, getting an unblocked view of Hiei’s ‘assets’. He blinked,
and then smirked.
“KURAMA!! What’re ya doin??!??” he shrieked. “Yar looking up me kilt!”
Kurama gave a smug grin as Koenma went as red as the kitsune’s hair, and Botan
hid behind a fold of her dress.
“It’s nozzing I ’aven’t seen before,” Kurama answered smartly.
Everyone but the two lovers fell over in shock. Well, all but Karasu and Genkai.
It wasn’t as if the two hadn’t spent the night at her temple before, so she
wasn’t at all clueless.
Hiei blushed. “Could ye please… get up?”
Kurama pouted. “Fine, it is not as if I’m not going to see it later, anyvay.”
He stood, dusting himself off, as the director cleared his throat.
“Um, may we get down to business now, please?” he asked, tapping the script
with one hand.
“Fine with me,” Mukuro proclaimed.
And so, the chaos (meaning filming) began.
~owari~
(1) ‘Red roan’ refers to the lyrics that will show up throughout the real
fic (i.e. not this)
Cast List
Kioku’s people:
Hiei William Wallace
Yusuke Hamish
Kuwabara Robert the Bruce
Genkai Isabella’s friend - Nicolette
Botan Prince Edward II
Mukuro Uncle Argyle
Mistress Triumph’s people:
Kurama Princess Isabella
Koronue Stephen
Karasu King Edward I
Shizuru Robert’s father
Koenma Prince Edward’s “advisor”
Yukina Murron