fic - Johnny's & Associates - From the Desk of Nakamaru Yuichi: CHANGE UR KEYBOARDS
Title: From the Desk of Nakamaru Yuichi: CHANGE UR KEYBOARDS
Author: virdant
Length: 1816 words; one-shot
Rating: PG
Genre: Crack. Or we could call it post-modernism, but let's go with crack instead.
Pairing: None
Summary: Nakamaru has a very important message to spread.
Warning: WTFFERY.
Content Critique Level: No Holds Barred
Notes: Technically, this story is for me. However, in order to justify writing fan fiction instead of the 10000 other things I am supposed to be writing, this is a Christmas gift for reiicharu. This story probably would have been written many weeks ago, except PV releases during the last few weeks of school are always a bad idea for my fic writing. In fact, quarter ends are always bad for fic writing, but great for inspiration. Kindly take this fic seriously, and promote KAT-TUN’s new message of ergonomic keyboards around the world (and this note is ridiculously belated). That being said, I am clearly too wordy at the moment, and end this note simply as this:
Merry Christmas Rei, May your next year be full of smiles. And ergonomic keyboards, of course.
From the Desk of Nakamaru Yuichi
CHANGE UR KEYBOARDS
One day, Nakamaru woke up with wrist pains. Very bad wrist pains. Wrist pains of epic proportions. The wrist pains started in his wrist; it ached steadily as he slowly rotated his wrists, the pain dancing up his bones into his head, where it dug its tiny little claws into the soft spongy tissue of his brain and purred into the crevices.
Nakamaru thought his pain probably looked like Kamenashi. He took the time to inform Taguchi and Tanaka of this fact.
“We’re trapped in this square room with a tiny window that smells like soybeans, and you’re focusing on the fact that your headache looks like Kamenashi?” Tanaka snorted and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous, Yucchi.”
Technically, they were wrist pains that had chosen to relocate to his brain. Nakamaru opened his mouth to inform them of this fact when Taguchi patted him on the back. “It’s perfectly understandable.” His whisper was perfectly audible from across the room, where Kamenashi sat sulking and Ueda was listening very loudly to Gackt (“He reflects the caged solitude of my soul. And this situation. Now shut up before I punch you, you’re interrupting Gackt.”). “Kame-chan’s face is pretty memorable, isn’t it?”
Nakamaru nodded reluctantly, trying to ignore Kamenashi’s violent glare directed to the back of his head. Really, it looked like Kamenashi because he had been forced to type an essay of epic proportions to his university professors regarding the fact that no, they were not allowed to use him to lure Kamenashi into the psychology laboratories for experiments, thanks to Kamenashi‘s latest note to his university asking them to please stop assigning Nakamaru assignments that he would be able to complete in an hour if it weren‘t for Ueda blasting Gackt into his ear every three seconds while screaming: “CONVERT TO GACKTISM, CONVERT, THE MUSIC COMPELLS YOU," and Kamenashi holding up glasses frames to his face and demanding to know which ones made him look fat.
Really, he would have more time for KAT-TUN if they would just give him an hour to himself every day. As it was, he was barely finishing his assignments, and he was also writing apology letters to everybody he knew because Kamenashi had taken it onto himself to protect KAT-TUN at all costs, which meant that he was writing letters to his university professors informing them: “Yucchi is too busy to bother with your banal assignments.”
If he was fond of dancing--which he wasn’t, dancing was really much more of Taguchi’s cup of tea than Nakamaru’s--he would be dancing an interpretive dance to reflect the fact that his soul was caged in a giant box that smelled like soybeans. But he wasn’t, so he wasn’t dancing an interpretive dance, and was instead simply staring at the ceiling.
That was why he ducked when Kamenashi decided to punch the wall and it crumpled.
“How did you know to duck?” Tanaka hissed as they scurried out of the room.
Nakamaru pointed to the ceiling, now crumbling, dusk getting everywhere. It had started leaking dust before the wall had crumbled.
“Deguchi, Taguchi!” Taguchi shouted as he escaped into the open air. Ueda sauntered out, ears still full of Gackt, and Kamenashi was smirking as he followed them.
Nakamaru stared as they exited to the rooftop of a building.
“Okay,” Ueda said as he fished out an earbud from his ears. Gackt blasted out of his earbuds, the sound vaguely tinny. “This makes no sense. We were clearly underground just one moment ago.”
Nakamaru was inclined to agree, but he had wrist aches proportional to apology letter lengths--read: very long--so he left the verbal agreement to the others. He focused on rotating his wrists carefully as he perched on a ledge, staring down into the bright world beneath him. He wondered if there would be any ergonomic keyboards down there; ergonomic keyboards were good for wrist aches resulting for carpal tunnel.
“What are you thinking of?” Taguchi asked. “Are you still thinking of headaches that look like Kame-chan?”
He wasn’t, but he wondered if Taguchi would understand if he talked about the importance of ergonomic keyboards.
“Oh. Are those waterproof?”
Clearly, Taguchi wouldn’t.
*
An Interlude:
Tanaka Koki understood the importance of ergonomic keyboards.
He was sensitive to his fans, after all. Considering the amount of time they spent on the internet, twittering away at each other on forums, it only stood to reason that they needed the best typing equipment to protect their wrists from the dangers of carpal tunnel. He understood the feeling of being tied to a giant rock by the chains of qwerty, which had been created to prevent fan girls from typing at their true heart’s speed, and understood being unable to comprehend the glory of dvorak, which truly freed to soul to the joys of fangirling and typing without fear of carpal tunnel.
That was why he always stressed the importance of ergonomic keyboards--and dvorak--in his raps.
Creatively, of course. That was what metaphors were for. It wasn’t his fault if the rest of the world was ignorant to his very important message.
*
Nakamaru could only come to the conclusion that Ueda hated anything not Gackt related to the point that he would burn them in fires.
It had been tricky convincing Ueda that ergonomic keyboards was related to Gackt, but he had managed to get it done. It had taken a bit of effort, but pointing out that it would be hard to properly create shrines to Gackt’s greatness if one was wearing a wrist brace, and in this technological age, It was impossible to escape from the troubles of typing on a keyboard.
“And that is how you’re going to convince me that I should buy an ergonomic keyboard?” Ueda contemplated the thought for a moment. “Acceptable.”
Nakamaru sighed in relief.
Now to correct Taguchi’s incorrect assumption that ergonomic keyboards were waterproof.
*
Another Interlude:
Kamenashi was very upset that people believed that he didn’t understand the importance of ergonomic keyboards. Nobody had said anything to that effect, but he could just hear people commenting about how Kamenashi didn’t understand the glories of ergonomic computer equipment, and therefore was somehow unfit to be the super awesome amazing leader of KAT-TUN, or SAALKAT-TUN for short.
He understood the dangers of carpal tunnel quite well, which was why he shoved his face--with glasses frames--into Nakamaru’s computer screen as often as possible. It was important to take breaks when writing long essays, after all! And really, his teachers needed to stop assigning essays that could destroy Nakamaru’s wrists and prevent him from performing their Floppy Wrist Dances (no resemblance to Floppy Disk Dances despite the lack of rhyme), known as FWD for short.
Kamenashi had added FWD into the subject of each email that he sent to Nakamaru’s professors, to make sure that they understood the importance of his messages. Kamenashi, after all, took his duties as the SAALKAT-TUN quite seriously.
Even if it was never quite determined if the title was official or not.
*
The wrist pains hadn’t gone away yet, but the headache had sunk its little claws in even deeper with a cackle that sounded vaguely like Kamenashi when he got his hands on the latest (unopened) fashion magazine from a room that just might have been Arashi’s dressing room.
At least Taguchi now knew to dry his (future) ergonomic keyboard with wind instead of heat. Taguchi and Ueda would be the worst combination in existence. It was a good thing they had never tried to create a collaboration. Except they had. It was a miracle that all the ergonomic keyboards didn’t implode every time R-one KAT-TUN was recorded.
Nakamaru would stop that from happening at the cost of his life (but not his ergonomic keyboard; his ergonomic keyboard was precious).
“I get it,” Taguchi said finally. “Water goes with non-ergonomic keyboards. Ergonomic keyboards are more important than album sales.”
Nakamaru tried very desperately to explain that ergonomic keyboard sales should, hopefully, become equal to album sales. Except spread out over a greater period of time.
“Got it.” Taguchi patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll think of a pun to promote ergonomic keyboards on my next radio show broadcast! Now let’s go relax at a space bar! An ergonomic space bar!”
Nakamaru whimpered. If the world hadn’t imploded at the sound of R-one KAT-TUN, it was about to. And this time he would be blamed. Massu would push Nakamaru off a building for ending the world before he could try every type of gyoza in existence.
*
And Yet Another Interlude:
“Did you know that Yucchi believes that the world will implode if we work together?”
“You’re interrupting my scheduled Gackt time, Junnosuke.”
“Yucchi and the world’s impending implosion is more important than Gackt, Uebo!”
“If he hasn’t realized that the world hasn’t imploded and we’ve been doing R-one KAT-TUN together for who knows how long, then it’s hopeless, and he’ll never realize that a collaboration between us is safe.”
“But Yucchi thinks we’re going to make the world implode!”
“Well, are you?”
“Am I?”
“Going to make the world implode? Because I’m not. Gackt still lives in this world.”
“Hm. No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, why not?”
“I wouldn’t be able to go: ‘Iriguchi Deguchi Taguchi desu!’ if the world was imploded!”
“Now if only Yucchi would realize that.”
*
Nakamaru sighed.
The rest of KAT-TUN looked suitably chastised. Except for Kamenashi, who simply looked vaguely constipated.
“We see the light, Yucchi,” Tanaka said soothingly. “Now relax and go back to your nap, alright?“ He patted Nakamaru on the arm.
“Ergonomic keyboards are the way to go,” Taguchi agreed. “We see the path.”
Nakamaru let out a small whimper.
Kamenashi rolled his eyes. “Yucchi needs a break,” he began, starting towards his phone to compose another rage-filled letter to Nakamaru’s professors. Ueda stopped him with a glare and Gackt’s voice filling the room. Kamenashi sat down, suitably chastised.
Nakamaru mumbled under his breath, still asleep on his laptop. “Change your keyboards.”
End.
Masterlist of fandoms here
Masterlist of Jpop fanfiction here
Author: virdant
Length: 1816 words; one-shot
Rating: PG
Genre: Crack. Or we could call it post-modernism, but let's go with crack instead.
Pairing: None
Summary: Nakamaru has a very important message to spread.
Warning: WTFFERY.
Content Critique Level: No Holds Barred
Notes: Technically, this story is for me. However, in order to justify writing fan fiction instead of the 10000 other things I am supposed to be writing, this is a Christmas gift for reiicharu. This story probably would have been written many weeks ago, except PV releases during the last few weeks of school are always a bad idea for my fic writing. In fact, quarter ends are always bad for fic writing, but great for inspiration. Kindly take this fic seriously, and promote KAT-TUN’s new message of ergonomic keyboards around the world (and this note is ridiculously belated). That being said, I am clearly too wordy at the moment, and end this note simply as this:
Merry Christmas Rei, May your next year be full of smiles. And ergonomic keyboards, of course.
From the Desk of Nakamaru Yuichi
CHANGE UR KEYBOARDS
One day, Nakamaru woke up with wrist pains. Very bad wrist pains. Wrist pains of epic proportions. The wrist pains started in his wrist; it ached steadily as he slowly rotated his wrists, the pain dancing up his bones into his head, where it dug its tiny little claws into the soft spongy tissue of his brain and purred into the crevices.
Nakamaru thought his pain probably looked like Kamenashi. He took the time to inform Taguchi and Tanaka of this fact.
“We’re trapped in this square room with a tiny window that smells like soybeans, and you’re focusing on the fact that your headache looks like Kamenashi?” Tanaka snorted and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous, Yucchi.”
Technically, they were wrist pains that had chosen to relocate to his brain. Nakamaru opened his mouth to inform them of this fact when Taguchi patted him on the back. “It’s perfectly understandable.” His whisper was perfectly audible from across the room, where Kamenashi sat sulking and Ueda was listening very loudly to Gackt (“He reflects the caged solitude of my soul. And this situation. Now shut up before I punch you, you’re interrupting Gackt.”). “Kame-chan’s face is pretty memorable, isn’t it?”
Nakamaru nodded reluctantly, trying to ignore Kamenashi’s violent glare directed to the back of his head. Really, it looked like Kamenashi because he had been forced to type an essay of epic proportions to his university professors regarding the fact that no, they were not allowed to use him to lure Kamenashi into the psychology laboratories for experiments, thanks to Kamenashi‘s latest note to his university asking them to please stop assigning Nakamaru assignments that he would be able to complete in an hour if it weren‘t for Ueda blasting Gackt into his ear every three seconds while screaming: “CONVERT TO GACKTISM, CONVERT, THE MUSIC COMPELLS YOU," and Kamenashi holding up glasses frames to his face and demanding to know which ones made him look fat.
Really, he would have more time for KAT-TUN if they would just give him an hour to himself every day. As it was, he was barely finishing his assignments, and he was also writing apology letters to everybody he knew because Kamenashi had taken it onto himself to protect KAT-TUN at all costs, which meant that he was writing letters to his university professors informing them: “Yucchi is too busy to bother with your banal assignments.”
If he was fond of dancing--which he wasn’t, dancing was really much more of Taguchi’s cup of tea than Nakamaru’s--he would be dancing an interpretive dance to reflect the fact that his soul was caged in a giant box that smelled like soybeans. But he wasn’t, so he wasn’t dancing an interpretive dance, and was instead simply staring at the ceiling.
That was why he ducked when Kamenashi decided to punch the wall and it crumpled.
“How did you know to duck?” Tanaka hissed as they scurried out of the room.
Nakamaru pointed to the ceiling, now crumbling, dusk getting everywhere. It had started leaking dust before the wall had crumbled.
“Deguchi, Taguchi!” Taguchi shouted as he escaped into the open air. Ueda sauntered out, ears still full of Gackt, and Kamenashi was smirking as he followed them.
Nakamaru stared as they exited to the rooftop of a building.
“Okay,” Ueda said as he fished out an earbud from his ears. Gackt blasted out of his earbuds, the sound vaguely tinny. “This makes no sense. We were clearly underground just one moment ago.”
Nakamaru was inclined to agree, but he had wrist aches proportional to apology letter lengths--read: very long--so he left the verbal agreement to the others. He focused on rotating his wrists carefully as he perched on a ledge, staring down into the bright world beneath him. He wondered if there would be any ergonomic keyboards down there; ergonomic keyboards were good for wrist aches resulting for carpal tunnel.
“What are you thinking of?” Taguchi asked. “Are you still thinking of headaches that look like Kame-chan?”
He wasn’t, but he wondered if Taguchi would understand if he talked about the importance of ergonomic keyboards.
“Oh. Are those waterproof?”
Clearly, Taguchi wouldn’t.
*
An Interlude:
Tanaka Koki understood the importance of ergonomic keyboards.
He was sensitive to his fans, after all. Considering the amount of time they spent on the internet, twittering away at each other on forums, it only stood to reason that they needed the best typing equipment to protect their wrists from the dangers of carpal tunnel. He understood the feeling of being tied to a giant rock by the chains of qwerty, which had been created to prevent fan girls from typing at their true heart’s speed, and understood being unable to comprehend the glory of dvorak, which truly freed to soul to the joys of fangirling and typing without fear of carpal tunnel.
That was why he always stressed the importance of ergonomic keyboards--and dvorak--in his raps.
Creatively, of course. That was what metaphors were for. It wasn’t his fault if the rest of the world was ignorant to his very important message.
*
Nakamaru could only come to the conclusion that Ueda hated anything not Gackt related to the point that he would burn them in fires.
It had been tricky convincing Ueda that ergonomic keyboards was related to Gackt, but he had managed to get it done. It had taken a bit of effort, but pointing out that it would be hard to properly create shrines to Gackt’s greatness if one was wearing a wrist brace, and in this technological age, It was impossible to escape from the troubles of typing on a keyboard.
“And that is how you’re going to convince me that I should buy an ergonomic keyboard?” Ueda contemplated the thought for a moment. “Acceptable.”
Nakamaru sighed in relief.
Now to correct Taguchi’s incorrect assumption that ergonomic keyboards were waterproof.
*
Another Interlude:
Kamenashi was very upset that people believed that he didn’t understand the importance of ergonomic keyboards. Nobody had said anything to that effect, but he could just hear people commenting about how Kamenashi didn’t understand the glories of ergonomic computer equipment, and therefore was somehow unfit to be the super awesome amazing leader of KAT-TUN, or SAALKAT-TUN for short.
He understood the dangers of carpal tunnel quite well, which was why he shoved his face--with glasses frames--into Nakamaru’s computer screen as often as possible. It was important to take breaks when writing long essays, after all! And really, his teachers needed to stop assigning essays that could destroy Nakamaru’s wrists and prevent him from performing their Floppy Wrist Dances (no resemblance to Floppy Disk Dances despite the lack of rhyme), known as FWD for short.
Kamenashi had added FWD into the subject of each email that he sent to Nakamaru’s professors, to make sure that they understood the importance of his messages. Kamenashi, after all, took his duties as the SAALKAT-TUN quite seriously.
Even if it was never quite determined if the title was official or not.
*
The wrist pains hadn’t gone away yet, but the headache had sunk its little claws in even deeper with a cackle that sounded vaguely like Kamenashi when he got his hands on the latest (unopened) fashion magazine from a room that just might have been Arashi’s dressing room.
At least Taguchi now knew to dry his (future) ergonomic keyboard with wind instead of heat. Taguchi and Ueda would be the worst combination in existence. It was a good thing they had never tried to create a collaboration. Except they had. It was a miracle that all the ergonomic keyboards didn’t implode every time R-one KAT-TUN was recorded.
Nakamaru would stop that from happening at the cost of his life (but not his ergonomic keyboard; his ergonomic keyboard was precious).
“I get it,” Taguchi said finally. “Water goes with non-ergonomic keyboards. Ergonomic keyboards are more important than album sales.”
Nakamaru tried very desperately to explain that ergonomic keyboard sales should, hopefully, become equal to album sales. Except spread out over a greater period of time.
“Got it.” Taguchi patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll think of a pun to promote ergonomic keyboards on my next radio show broadcast! Now let’s go relax at a space bar! An ergonomic space bar!”
Nakamaru whimpered. If the world hadn’t imploded at the sound of R-one KAT-TUN, it was about to. And this time he would be blamed. Massu would push Nakamaru off a building for ending the world before he could try every type of gyoza in existence.
*
And Yet Another Interlude:
“Did you know that Yucchi believes that the world will implode if we work together?”
“You’re interrupting my scheduled Gackt time, Junnosuke.”
“Yucchi and the world’s impending implosion is more important than Gackt, Uebo!”
“If he hasn’t realized that the world hasn’t imploded and we’ve been doing R-one KAT-TUN together for who knows how long, then it’s hopeless, and he’ll never realize that a collaboration between us is safe.”
“But Yucchi thinks we’re going to make the world implode!”
“Well, are you?”
“Am I?”
“Going to make the world implode? Because I’m not. Gackt still lives in this world.”
“Hm. No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, why not?”
“I wouldn’t be able to go: ‘Iriguchi Deguchi Taguchi desu!’ if the world was imploded!”
“Now if only Yucchi would realize that.”
*
Nakamaru sighed.
The rest of KAT-TUN looked suitably chastised. Except for Kamenashi, who simply looked vaguely constipated.
“We see the light, Yucchi,” Tanaka said soothingly. “Now relax and go back to your nap, alright?“ He patted Nakamaru on the arm.
“Ergonomic keyboards are the way to go,” Taguchi agreed. “We see the path.”
Nakamaru let out a small whimper.
Kamenashi rolled his eyes. “Yucchi needs a break,” he began, starting towards his phone to compose another rage-filled letter to Nakamaru’s professors. Ueda stopped him with a glare and Gackt’s voice filling the room. Kamenashi sat down, suitably chastised.
Nakamaru mumbled under his breath, still asleep on his laptop. “Change your keyboards.”
End.
Masterlist of fandoms here
Masterlist of Jpop fanfiction here