... okay, so here we go ...

... yeaaaaaah. Here we are. *blinks* *peers around*

Kind of weird, really. I always expected to not ever really have anything to do with a LiveJournal. *peers more* Ah, well.

I like the idea of using this as a ficlog, but heck, I'm so lazy. Who'd read it? ^^;;; But more likely'n not, that'll be what I do--who knows, maybe someone'll actually comment. WhiteCat sparkles when people notice she exists. ^^;;;;

Yeah. 'Nuff of that. Rar. o_o Please s'cuse me as I try and figure out what the heck I'm doing~ XD

Testing things out~

Sooooooo, we're giving this thing a gung-ho shot! *grins* Because I figure hey, regardless if I was suckered into it or not, I might as well DO something with it. It seems sad to let space and such go to waste. o_o

Ergo. A piece of a fic I started a while ago--Gravitation and Noriko-centric--because I'd like to continue it but don't know if I'll ever have the time/energy/inspiration. I'm no Ryuuichi, rar. -_- But I would place this as somewhere early before the series began, right around the time Nittle Grasper was really starting to reach its super-super-superstardom status that it's got in the series.

Look, Ma! A Nittle Grasper fic that's NOT Ryuuichi- or Touma-centric! *kaching!*

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She liked sunsets and milk tea and music.

Sunsets were easy, at least; she rarely slept before midnight and liked to go to the park right around the time the world caught fire and turned scarlet and orange. She was good at finding empty park benches where she could sit and watch from the corner of her shielded eyes as the sun disappeared for the day. She had grown very good at avoiding curious eyes and all the double-takes and ignoring the whispers that said Hey, isn't she someone famous ... ?

There was a little coffeeshop near her apartment, definitely within walking distance, where people had known her face and name since before everything. The middle-aged man who ran the store always smiled at her when she came in and called her "Noriko-chan," and he kept prying fans away while she sat and nursed a cup of hot tea between her cool hands.

They'd taken the photos for their last album in this little store. But even with business booming, she could still count on "Noriko-chan" and her own little corner booth by the wide glass window.

And as for the music ...

Today they were in Touma's room. Ryuuichi sat on the floor with Kumagurou, not quite listening as she (on the bed) and Touma (at his desk, plucking notes from his new keyboard) tossed ideas back and forth. He was more intent on his stuffed bunny than the song possibilities they were discussing.

Ryuuichi was like that. Sometimes it seemed he took nothing seriously--but when a note or word caught his attention, there would be the spark of genius that was already making Nittle Grasper famous. It was almost chilling to watch his transformation: Sakuma-san was a cold, strange person, completely opposite of cute happy Ryuuichi.

Touma never seemed fazed, and she had learned to hide her unconcerns under a professional veneer. But it didn't mean she approved.

K was happy as long as Ryuuichi sang and Nittle Grasper played to back him up. As long as there was music, he didn't care. Paired with Touma's inerring business sense, they created a formidable marketing team. She sometimes wondered if Ryuuichi understood how much they capitalized on his innocence.

Though, she could not honestly say she was much better. Much as she adored Ryuu-chan, it was Sakuma-san that made the money. And apartments in Japan--or anywhere else in the world--did not come cheaply.

But neither did the price of a little boy's--a young man's--soul.

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