For a Rocker
By Moonraker One
A/N: The title of this fanfic is inspired by the Jackson Browne song of the same name. Identities and personalities are altered slightly in this alternate universe from what they are in the canon. Music industry terms: Platinum – an album that has sold more than one million copies. Gold – an album that has sold more than five hundred thousand copies.
PREFACE – Thirteen years ago
"This is bullshit, John!"
A powerful, swearing outburst came from the mouth of a very peeved Sai Fujiwara. A mid-thirties rock musician, Sai led a group known as Ancient Spirit. Him and five other guys, a guitarist, a drummer, a bassist, a keyboard player, and a backup guitarist, had spent the previous ten years establishing their music career. However, they committed the cardinal sin of rock and roll: they went two whole albums without a number one hit. John Karazaki, the executive that served as the liaison between the group of long-haired rockers and their record label, shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what to tell you, Sai!" he explained. "We can't keep you signed if you don't hit the top of the charts soon!"
Sai rapped his fist on the desk, leaning in for nonverbal effect. He had dreaded this day. "Look, I can't help it if the listeners aren't requesting our songs left and right," he lamented, "but can't you at least give us one more album? We've made you at least three times as much as our contract was for!"
John shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. We gave you a second chance with Spirit's last album. That power ballad you wrote went to number three on the charts, and you had a near hit with a number four ranking rock anthem. But you just aren't selling that great anymore." He shoved a sales chart in the hands of Sai. "I think Ancient Spirit has gone sour in the minds of the fans."
Sai stuck a pointed index finger in the face of John. "The guys and me spent fifteen years doing bars and seedy joints praying for a record deal! And for what, did we go through all that? To put money in the pockets of greedy executives like YOU." The moderately feminine-looking Sai brushed some of his long hair out of his face. His girlish looks really showed when angry. "I think you owe us at least one more chance."
John bowed his head. "Sai, I can't. We can't take another chance that you might put out another dud."
Sai loosed a bewildered breath. "After all I've done for you money-grabbing fuckers. Our debut album: double platinum! The album after that: platinum! Our third album: Gold, but that was understandable, because the timing was off. Our fourth album: quadruple platinum. All that money and you still are greedy for more! Fuck you all!"
"Sai, we just can't…"
"I know. You just can't afford to lose any more money on us. I hope you can sleep at night."
John stopped him with a yell. "Hey! Sai! Do you think this is easy for me? I've worked alongside you for a decade now! The higher up execs are the ones that made this decision! I'm just the messenger boy! Besides, all of your hits you wrote yourself, so even if you share your royalties with your bandmates, you should still have enough to get you through for another decade or so!"
Sai laughed a bit. "You are so stupid, John." He looked him straight in the eye, that trademark glance that could bring any fan to their feet in admiration, a stylish stare that made you feel like he was looking through you. "You don't become a rocker for the money."
Later that evening, after having to break it to the other members of the band that their lifelong dream had been crushed, a depressed Sai sat alone in his apartment, the run-down apartment he would share with the other members of the band in the early days of Ancient Spirit, when they had to share the floor to sleep on. It had long since been redone completely, but elements of its original dirtied and disenfranchised-looking state remained. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His electric guitar, the first one he'd ever bought from a pawn shop for seventy bucks, he strummed and picked, singing while crying one of their earliest hits from their first album.
"If I had…a spirit of my own," he sang, to a beautiful slow tempo, the chorus of the song. "To come, and lay…with me," he picked away, the sad-sounding notes filling the room. "I'd take our love, and put it in a jar…a sight for all to see." The song which lent its title to their band name became a fast-paced hard rock guitar-fest after the third time singing this chorus, but he neglected it due to his current mood. "Just one old Ancient Spirit, please lay you down near me."
Disconnecting the guitar from the amplifier, he lifted the carpet and placed both underneath a section of the floor where the floorboard came up, and lay back down in bed. He then hummed the tune he'd been singing. It was in the middle of the second verse of humming that he heard a impact force the door open. "WHO'S THERE?" he yelled, frightened.
"SHUT UP AND DON'T MOVE!" A young man, brandishing a semi-automatic pistol, kept a gaze on Sai while two of his friends took what they could carry. As items of value were taken, the group loaded stuff into an object outside in the hall.
"Satoshi! We've got everything we can take!"
The young man smiled. "Looks like we're through here, girly man."
The last thing Sai saw was the trigger squeeze.
CHAPTER ONE
A battle raged on in the confines of the small inner chamber. The battle may not have possessed grandiose scale such as some wars, but in its own way it had many of the same traits. It had prisoners, it had casualties, it had two generals on opposing sides, and it even had raging emotions. The resounding clacks of ebony and ivory stones hitting a thick wooden board echoed often through the salon. This day they held an extra bit of power behind them, due to the degree of fury in the gaming.
Clack.
It became obvious with the stone hitting its final position that the game had concluded. Akira shook his head. "Damn. I resign," he swore quietly. "Good game."
"What's that, fifty to forty-nine?" asked Hikaru Shindo. He'd been playing against Akira Toya for quite a while now and the two were friendly rivals in their chosen sport of go. Standing up, the two shook hands after the final go match of the afternoon ended in Shindo's favor. "I gotta go."
"I would've lost by one point if I'd continued," Akira explained. "Next time I'll be the winner."
"Keep telling yourself that, Akira!"
They shook hands and went their separate ways. Hikaru enjoyed go, having been introduced to the game by his grandfather at the age of six. He had learned very quickly of the finer aspects of the game and improved at a rate that amazed several of his instructors. Akira even noticed that his friendly rival had the same, if not more skill than he did. The young Shindo brushed his hair. A short black hairdo covered his head with a little flap of blonde on his bangs, he had a style distinctly unique to him.
"Hello, Mr. Tanaki," he said, waving to the friend of his whom he sometimes played teaching games with. The man operated a pawn shop and he sometimes had interesting things. "You got anything new?"
The gentle, middle aged Kojiro Tanaki motioned for his friend to enter the store. He motioned upward to a musical instrument hanging from the line of guitars. A white on blue, old electric guitar looked grand, hanging just a little bit to the front of all the others. Kojiro pulled it down slowly and handed it to the young boy in his presence. "I heard this was a guitar owned by Ancient Spirit founding member and lead guitarist Sai Fujiwara," he explained. "The guy bought it from a pawn shop a long time ago in America. He died about thirteen years ago; shot by a robber."
Hikaru handled the guitar. He wasn't fond of modern rock but the stuff his parents listened to wasn't bad. He watched the guitar and felt like he was holding an tool from olden times. If it wasn't for an dried blood stain it'd be perfect. "Um, Mr. Tanaki, can you clean this stain?"
Kojiro examined it, especially the location Hikaru said there was a stain. He felt confused when he didn't see one. "Hikaru? What stain? I don't see one."
Hikaru pointed. "Right there!"
You can see the stains!
The young go player froze where he stood. "Mr. Tanaki? Is someone here?"
"Hikaru, are you okay? Do you have a fever? There's no one here."
You can HEAR ME!
Hikaru violently whipped his head left to right, moving his head about, looking for anyone. He saw none. It only made him more nervous. "Who's there! Show yourself!"
Oh thank you God! You can hear me! Please allow me to place my soul inside of yours!
A mid-thirties man with feminine-like physical facial features, was the last thing Hikaru Shindo saw before passing out.