"Masa-kun, again. Sell it." Ueshima's voice carried from the audience up onto the stage where they were squeezing in a last few minutes of rehearsal before the house opened. Opening night wasn't for another couple of days, but today was the preview press performance, and in the true style of an artistic director, Ueshima had come back from the final dress rehearsal with pages of corrections and moments he wanted to rework.
Masa moved back to the starting position for his final solo. They had rehearsed it hundreds of times before Ueshima had decided, less than twenty-four hours before the press performance opened, that it didn't work for the climactic moment of the show, and he and the choreographer had restaged the entire piece to be more dynamic.
He liked the old staging more. It had been comfortable--something he was confident he could perform.
But Ueshima had a vision, and that vision involved a running leap landing on center stage as he drew his sword.
It was fine, he thought as the opening bars played. His ankle was fine now, well, fine enough, but really, what was the difference? He could land it, and then he had a full eight counts for his heart to stop pounding before his first line. It was. Fine.
Wait 1...2...," Ueshima called, "step 3...4... Run 5 and 6. Jump 7. Land 8. Draw 1. Hold 2. Lunge. Recover. Forward. Forward. Turn and strike. Better. But the jump's still short. Start back in the wings for step, step. 5 and 6 to quarter; jump land center. Again. Explode."
Masa walked back to the wings. It wasn't exploding that was the problem per se, it was what came after.
As the opening bars played again, he caught sight of Bachon in the the opposite wing. Of course he'd show up now; he was probably wondering what the delay was. Much longer, and it would tight to get into makeup and costume in time. Masa gritted his teeth and stared at the X in the middle of the stage. This was his first chance at a lead role since...since that. He couldn't blow it. One. More. Time. On the count, he drove off of his mark and landed dead center right as the spotlight locked onto him.
"Good. Do it just like that tonight. Now go get ready."
Masa bowed. "Thank you, Sensei," he said as the curtain closed.
Bachon strode onstage, and Masa turned to glare at him. "What?"
"You okay?"
Masa raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You've been up here for awhile, and the new staging seems--" his eyes flicked down and back up "--challenging."
"It's fine," Masa snapped, sharper than he intended. "Ueshima-sensei's just particular. You know how he gets."
"You're sure? It's a lot of shows, and you're still......" He trailed off, now pointedly staring past Masa's shoulder.
"Still what?" Masa pressed. It was just like Bachon, wasn't it? At least he didn't say it outright, but you couldn't miss the concern rolling off of him...until something shiny in a window distracted him and he hared off after his own whims. He always came back though, as if nothing had happened, and it hadn't been an hour standing in the freezing rain waiting.
"I'm not the only one worried about you, you know," Bachon said as he stepped closer.
"If there's a problem with my performance, Ueshima-sensei can talk to me. Beyond that, it's not your concern." He turned and tried to walk away, but Bachon caught him by the wrist.
"You're scared."
"I'm. Fine." Masa yanked Bachon close and there, on center stage in the last thirty seconds before the stage crew kicked them off, he kissed him. "See?" he said when he broke away. "Now go get ready."
Center Stage: Tenimyu RPF, MasaBaba, T
Masa moved back to the starting position for his final solo. They had rehearsed it hundreds of times before Ueshima had decided, less than twenty-four hours before the press performance opened, that it didn't work for the climactic moment of the show, and he and the choreographer had restaged the entire piece to be more dynamic.
He liked the old staging more. It had been comfortable--something he was confident he could perform.
But Ueshima had a vision, and that vision involved a running leap landing on center stage as he drew his sword.
It was fine, he thought as the opening bars played. His ankle was fine now, well, fine enough, but really, what was the difference? He could land it, and then he had a full eight counts for his heart to stop pounding before his first line. It was. Fine.
Wait 1...2...," Ueshima called, "step 3...4... Run 5 and 6. Jump 7. Land 8. Draw 1. Hold 2. Lunge. Recover. Forward. Forward. Turn and strike. Better. But the jump's still short. Start back in the wings for step, step. 5 and 6 to quarter; jump land center. Again. Explode."
Masa walked back to the wings. It wasn't exploding that was the problem per se, it was what came after.
As the opening bars played again, he caught sight of Bachon in the the opposite wing. Of course he'd show up now; he was probably wondering what the delay was. Much longer, and it would tight to get into makeup and costume in time. Masa gritted his teeth and stared at the X in the middle of the stage. This was his first chance at a lead role since...since that. He couldn't blow it. One. More. Time. On the count, he drove off of his mark and landed dead center right as the spotlight locked onto him.
"Good. Do it just like that tonight. Now go get ready."
Masa bowed. "Thank you, Sensei," he said as the curtain closed.
Bachon strode onstage, and Masa turned to glare at him. "What?"
"You okay?"
Masa raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You've been up here for awhile, and the new staging seems--" his eyes flicked down and back up "--challenging."
"It's fine," Masa snapped, sharper than he intended. "Ueshima-sensei's just particular. You know how he gets."
"You're sure? It's a lot of shows, and you're still......" He trailed off, now pointedly staring past Masa's shoulder.
"Still what?" Masa pressed. It was just like Bachon, wasn't it? At least he didn't say it outright, but you couldn't miss the concern rolling off of him...until something shiny in a window distracted him and he hared off after his own whims. He always came back though, as if nothing had happened, and it hadn't been an hour standing in the freezing rain waiting.
"I'm not the only one worried about you, you know," Bachon said as he stepped closer.
"If there's a problem with my performance, Ueshima-sensei can talk to me. Beyond that, it's not your concern." He turned and tried to walk away, but Bachon caught him by the wrist.
"You're scared."
"I'm. Fine." Masa yanked Bachon close and there, on center stage in the last thirty seconds before the stage crew kicked them off, he kissed him. "See?" he said when he broke away. "Now go get ready."