My first Shugo Chara! fan fiction! Yay! To be honest, I've wanted to write one before, but I just couldn't find the right plot. But now I have it. I hope you all like it, and don't find it disturbing. I'm trying very hard to make it as tasteful as possible. But do not let that discourage you from helping me out a bit. I want to know what you think about it in reviews. Please and thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own the original Shugo Chara! characters. I only own my own, and a little bit of the plot since it is inspired by a book.

Lolita was originally written by Vladimir Nabokov. This is my adaptation/version of it.

Summary: Tsukiyomi Ikuto, an accomplished musician, holds a deep secret. He has become deeply infatuated with a young lady of pink hair and golden eyes with white porcelain skin. She is beautiful. She is elegant. She is lovely and has captured his heart. She is the most wondrous creature that he has ever laid his eyes on. He wants her. Badly. Craves her. Deeply. But he cannot have her. Age is not just a number.

Enjoy!

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Lolita

Prologue: Tsukiyomi Ikuto

*By Chibi Star Vamp*

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"Tsukiyomi-san…"

In a simple dressing room, a man sat on a wooden stool as he gently held a black violin in his hand. The violin was made of smooth, tainted black wood and reminded him of the one that had been given to the man when he was a young lad; just barely having been able to grasp the object with his small, chubby fingers.

It was a beautiful instrument. An old, modern violin; one he had bought when he decided to go pro, and that he could no longer use that older brown modern violin that he was left with.

It was too painful to be used to play such beautiful music.

"Tsukiyomi-san…" Again the soft, timid voice sounded. But the man did not respond. He continued to polish his instrument, and make sure that the strings were tuned to perfection.

He plucked them one-by-one and listened to the low hum that they made. When he was satisfied with that, he grabbed onto his bow and began to move it gently across the strings. He frowned lightly; not approving of the sound they made all together. So he placed his bow back down on the stool next to him where his violin case was placed, and once again began to change the tune of the instrument.

The person, who had been calling out to him, frowned. Their eyes saddened as they watched the blue-haired male focus solely on the black-tainted instrument, and completely ignore their presence.

Briefly they glanced down at their hand. It was covered in a long white glove that went up to their elbow, but their eyes immediately focused on the large diamond ring, surrounded by small sapphires, on their finger. It glistened in the lighting of the room, and would make any woman proud to wear it.

But she couldn't help the frown that began to play on her features as she looked at it. Is this… is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? She briefly wondered.

Biting her bottom lip, she shook her head; almost as if she wanted to force the negative thoughts out. Taking in a deep breath, she released it and then stepped inside the room. She closed the door behind her before walking in perfect posture towards the blue-haired male. Her heels the only other sound in the room besides the strumming of violin strings, as they collided with the hard wooden floor.

Finally she reached where he sat. She looked down at him for a few moments before getting enough of the nerve to place her hands gently on his shoulder; making sure that it didn't affect his arm in any way possible.

"Tsukiyomi-san…" She said once again. It surprised her when he finally looked up to acknowledge her presence. His blue hair covered some of his blue eyes, but they were not enough to hide the handsomeness of the man. He had clear, aristocratic features that would make any woman swoon. But not her. As long as she's known him, not once has she succumbed to his beauty; because to her, he was more than just a random handsome man…

"It is almost time for your performance." She said to him, softly. She then removed her hand from his shoulder and placed it on her lap, above her other gloved hand.

"Thank you for telling me." He responded in a low, cool voice; void of any emotion. Not even a small hint of gratitude for her telling him that it was almost time for his performance. No. He made sure to keep that from his voice — whether it was on purpose, or something he naturally did, she didn't know, nor did she care. All she cared about was that she had done her job and now she could leave.

The room felt as if it was trying to suffocate her with the amount of tension that was between the two of them.

"Good luck with your performance." She said softly.

"Thank you."

Then she turned to leave the room. Her heels were the only sound bouncing off the walls — that is, until she opened the door and allowed the voices and shouts of others to enter the room. When she left and closed the door, he was left with nothing but silence.

As soon as her presence was no longer in the room, he sighed. Looking down at his instrument, he moved the bow atop the strings once again before deciding that the tune was now perfect.

With that conclusion, he grabbed the violin with both hands and gently began to place it back into its case. He made sure that he was careful as he lowered it into the padded velvet. Then once his instrument was secured, he made sure that the bow was in its spot as well, before finally closing the violin case and locking it.

He then grabbed the carrying strap with his white-gloved hand, and stood from the stool. He wasted no time in walking towards the door; his low-heeled shoes softly hitting the floor.

When his free hand grasped the bronze door knob and twisted it open, he took a moment to take in a deep breath to calm whatever nerves may still be against him. Opening his blue eyes, he pushed the door open. Going through the threshold, he felt as if he was thrown into a world of chaos.

All around him, people were moving about.

He didn't know where they were headed, and he also didn't care; all he knew was that he had to get through this group of bustling people as quickly as he could, and get to the side of the stage.

So with his spine as straight as can be, he fully stepped out the room, let the door close behind him, and held onto his case tightly as he began to walk through the throng.

His ears dulled the sounds around him as instead they filled with the sound of music. He lost himself in the notes that he had written, as they played in his head the way that he wanted them to sound. It was a slow, soft beat that was a bit tragic, but beautiful nonetheless. Surely it would sound more amazing in reality, than in his imagination — he intended it to be.

"Where is he?!"

Through the boisterous, random noises, he managed to pick-up one particular voice. His eyes and ears honed in a single figure as they walked around in a circle, a clipboard in their hand and a black earpiece attached to their ear with a cord leading to a walkie-talkie, and a displeased look on their face.

"Somebody tell me where the hell he is! It's almost his turn!"

Even though he knew that the infuriated person was looking for him, he made no move to speed up. He wasn't afraid of this person. And he knew perfectly well that they were over-exaggerating. Glancing down at his watch on his free hand, he saw that there were a good ten minutes before he was meant to go on stage; he could still hear the sounds of the performers as they played and warmed the crowd.

"Where! The! Hell! Is! He?! Somebody fucking answer already! Where the hell is Ikuto?!"

"You called?" He smoothly asked as he finally got within hearing distance of the woman. Immediately she snapped her head towards the sound of his voice; allowing him to see just how fuming she currently was due to his supposed-lateness.

He didn't flinch or grow any more nervous at the way it seemed that she would rip off all his limbs and feed them to the dogs, as she stared at him. Her soulless black eyes were practically alive with fire and anger to the point where he believed that he could actually see the burning flames.

"It's about fucking time!" She exclaimed. "Where the hell have you been?" She asked.

"Preparing." He answered.

"Well you should've done it faster! I've been calling your name for the last twenty fucking minutes! You're only five minutes away from going on stage, and you can't afford to be late!" She shouted at him. He remained perfectly composed as the stage director and his manager, a woman by the name of Shi Tami, took a moment to take in a deep breath, and let it out.

Once it seemed as if she was calm, she looked back-up at him and frowned as she gave him a stern look. "Alright, listen and listen good, Ikuto," she started with a commanding and no-nonsense voice. "You are going to go up on that stage, play for forty minutes — ten of those minutes accompanied by the pianist — and then you are going to come back here, and then change, rest, eat, nap — I don't care, just do whatever the hell you need to in the half hour that you have before you go back up on stage and play with the band. Do you understand?" He gave a nod. "Good, because after that, you only have fifteen minutes to prepare yourself before going into the reception hall — I don't want any bullshit like last time you jackass. This night is going to go off as smoothly as possible and end quickly, too. Do you fucking understand?" Again, a nod. "You better…" She said in a warning tone as she narrowed her piercing black eyes at him.

They both briefly paused to hear the sound of clapping. Moments later their eyes landed on the trio of violinists as they made their way off the stage, and towards their dressing rooms. Then the announcer's voice sounded from the speakers that were stationed on nearly every corner of the building.

"Up next we have Tsukiyomi Ikuto."

More clapping sounded.

"That's your cue," Tami said as she wasted no time in grabbing onto his jacket sleeve and starting to drag him towards the entrance to the stage from behind the curtains. "Go out there and play like hell." She said. She gave him a shove; one that would've caused any other person to stumble clumsily onto the stage, but not him. He, having already gotten used to her less-than-friendly shoves, composed himself quickly and walked onto the stage with his head held high and his persona oozing grace and elegance.

The sound of clapping reached his ears once again as he looked out at the chair where he would be seated. It looked comfortable enough, was made of wood with a padded bottom, and there was a metal sheet music stand in front of it.

A distance away, he spotted a large grand piano. In about ten or so minutes, someone would be seated there and would be playing with him. But until those ten minutes arrive, he will be a lone figure on the stage and all eyes will be on him. He will play his songs and everyone will be focused intently on the sound of the music as it reverberated off the walls in what they expected would be a delightful experience.

And while normally this pressure would scare someone, he saw nothing of it. He was used to this type of pressure; to the point where it was quite natural to feel it.

That is why his hands didn't shake as he took a seat on the chair and began to prepare to play. He didn't gulp down his nervousness as he started to set everything; placing twenty sheets of music on the stand and opening the somewhat-book to the first page.

No.

He did everything naturally.

And finally he had his violin positioned on his body, and he placed the bow against the string, moving his arm back, playing the first note; his eyes closed and ears fully concentrated on the sound that emerged from the string-to-bow contact.

The first slow stroke turned into more and more. And soon, they were getting faster and the sound they created was becoming lovelier and lovelier.

He enjoyed the way it sounded; it did sound better than what he imagined it to be in his mind.

And as he played, a small smile formed on his face. The smile stayed there as he continued to do the one and only thing that he ever loved. His whole body set on focusing on making music; nothing but music.

After all, that was all he ever cared about.

And he used the things that he did not particularly care for, to fuel his music. To add meaning to each note that he played as the song drawled on — calling upon the emotions he felt during that experience.

"Ikuto, this is Onagi Yayuki."

He looked at his father with no emotion. The same look he gave to the fairly young-looking female standing beside his father, as he introduced her to him.

"Hello Tsukiyomi-san." She said softly, shyly.

She seemed happy. Shy. Yet happy.

But he could see it...

…In her eyes…

"She will be your wife." His father stated sternly; letting them know that the decision was final.

…She was unhappy over the arrangement.

He had finished playing.

He stood there on the stage, now accompanied by the pianist, as they both shook hands and then bowed at the crowd. The applaud was loud, and emoted happiness over the music that was just heard. Then, with the same elegance and grace like before, he walked-off the stage with his violin case in hand. Only this time, the pianist walked beside him.

Once he was shielded from the view of the audience due to the curtains, he immediately heard Tami's voice as she walked-up to the duo. She grabbed onto Ikuto's sleeve and began to drag him through the crowd.

"Like I said before: do whatever the hell you need to in order to feel refreshed and ready to play with the rest of the band; you have twenty minutes and counting." Once they reached his dressing room door, she opened it and shoved him inside. "And don't fool around and do any stupid shit like last time. I've made sure that there is absolutely no alcohol in this dressing room. Good luck trying to get drunk again." She smirked with satisfaction before slamming the door shut.

He stared at it for a few moments before smelling a familiar flower-scent in the room, and looking towards the source.

There, seated on one of the black leather couches that provided a place for guests and such to rest their feet, was seated a young woman.

She was seated in a way that was comfortable with the type of dress that she wore. Her legs were crossed and her hands were resting on top of her lap. She was dressed in a beautiful silk red dress that went down to her ankles, and hugged her body in a way that was perfect. There was a slit on the left side that went up to her thigh; showing the lightly-tanned skin underneath.

Besides the slit, the dress was very simple. The straps of her dress were a little thick and surely covered the straps of her bra that laid beneath them. The neckline was flat and didn't cave in to show her bosom, or anything.

Around her neck was a simple necklace; a small diamond ball attached to a black braided thing rope. It shined marvelously in the light. Besides that, she also wore two small diamond earrings in her ears, and a bejeweled flower clip on the right side of her dark, midnight black hair that was styled into a simple bun.

This same hair covered her entire forehead in the form of black bangs that went down to a millimeter above her bright purple eyes; framed by dark and full black eyelashes. There was no makeup on her face besides some light cherry-colored lipstick.

Finally, on her hands were white gloves that reached to her elbows. As she stood with a soft smile on her face once she finally spotted him, his eyes landed on the other diamond jewelry sitting atop one of her gloved hands; a ring that bounded the two together whether they liked it, or not.

"Hello… Tsukiyomi-san…" She said softly as she approached him with a straight spine, and yet slow, tentative steps.

"Hello, Onagi-san." He greeted back.

"That was quite a lovely piece." She said as she stood about two feet away from him. "I very much enjoyed it. I could feel the meaning that you put into each note; how close they were to your heart…" He briefly noticed the sad glint in her eyes before it disappeared as it was masked with what he knew was a certain level of fake happiness. Meaning that she was happy for him, but was still trying to desperately hide the sadness she also felt. "It was truly a masterpiece."

"Thank you." He said.

"You are welcome." She said softly. He stayed staring at her, silently, as he watched the way she looked away from him and bit down onto her cherry-red lips. He knew that it was a nervous habit of hers. He could also feel the tension that was slowly and yet surely building between them as the seconds ticked on.

Finally, he sighed and spoke. "Please excuse me, Onagi-san, but I must get ready to play once again."

"Ah, forgive me Tsukiyomi-san, I forgot that you have another performance coming up." She said as she finally looked up at him. "I hope I was not a nuisance to you… I shall take my leave. Good luck on your next performance." She gave him a sweet and yet timid smile, before beginning to move past him.

"Thank you." He replied as he turned his body to look at her. He held onto the door as she opened it, and she gave him a thankful smile before finally walking through it, and no longer being in his line-of-vision as he closed the wooden object.

He heaved a sigh as soon as the door closed.

It's like we're still strangers to one another… He thought as he began to walk over to where the dresser in the room was stationed. But it can't be helped. She doesn't want this. And neither do I…

Taking a seat at the chair, he briefly stared into the mirror at his expression. To anyone, he would look young and healthy, and full of life. But to his eyes — that were able to see deeper into a person's expressions, including his own — he could see that he was tired.

The evening's events were slowly — and I mean, slowly —drawing to a close. All that was left was the large group performance with the orchestra; with him being first violin. Once that was done, the concerto would be officially over, and the large group of people would start to exit the concert hall.

Some of them would go attend the banquet afterwards. Others would just go home. He, being as how he was one of the musicians who had played, would be forced to attend the after-concerto banquet and socialize with those that are quite well-known in the music community. Not only that, but he would also have to play the part of a devoted, loving, and caring fiancé for Onagi-san; who would also attend the banquet.

He sighed as the thought of having to put up an entire façade just to please his father, entered his mind. He really hated having to do that. Even after all these years, his father could still control him like a puppet…

It sickened him greatly.

He had tried desperately to get out from under his father's control, and yet, once he finally believed that he had finally separated himself from his family and made a name for himself, his father managed to find a way to pull him back in and make sure that there was no possible way that he could be free from his family, ever.

Only now, he had thrown an innocent female — who did not deserve to suffer as much as she currently was — into the mix. And that just made his fury burn more deeply for that man.

He's such a monster… He thought as she grabbed a hold of one of the cool bottles of water that were lying in a steel bucket of ice; taking place of the alcohol that Tami had told him earlier, that she made sure was nonexistent in his room. I can't believe that he's the man my mother fell in love with… She's such a foolish woman. Bitterly, he opened the bottled water and took a sip of the cold and refreshing liquid.

He momentarily closed his eyes as the ice-cold water slid down his throat. It did wonders on his parched esophagus as it rehydrated him.

Soon enough, the bottle was away from his lips (now half-empty, or half-full) and he was replacing the white cap.

He sighed…

God I hope he doesn't show-up tonight. He thought as he grabbed onto his comb that was placed on the dresser; before beginning to run it through his semi-messy hair. What am I saying? Of course he's going to show-up tonight. He's been on my case every day for the past two months since he announced that dreadful engagement.

He couldn't help the annoyance and fury that built up in him as he thought of the way that his father has been treating him, lately.

The looks he keeps getting from the old man. The way that he's started speaking to him. It was all beginning to piss him off, and wish for the old days where his father didn't even glance in his direction, and instead focused on growing his company: a very successful talent agency that has been responsible for unleashing some of the world's greatest stars, on the world.

Not once, in the days before the engagement, had his father ever asked him how he was doing, or what his future plans were. His old man didn't even act as if he were his son…

But damn it all to hell and back if everything hadn't changed after one faithful day.

Including the amount of attention his father exerted towards him. In fact, it wouldn't surprise him if he was being watched, now, as he sat in his dressing room and continued to fix his slightly disheveled appearance for his next performance; having switched from combing his hair to getting rid of the slight droplets of sweat that were rolling down his face by lightly dabbing a cool cloth against his skin.

Briefly his eyes scanned the simple dressing room. They landed on a small, black security camera that was nicely nuzzled in the lower left corner of the room. The camera had a red light that was on, signaling that, at the moment, he was being recorded. He hoped that the one looking at the footage wasn't his father, or one of his goons — but he wouldn't be surprised if it was.

"Fifteen minutes!"

It seemed that Tami was nearby because he could hear her voice — shrill and high — as she stated the amount of time that was left until the next performance.

Fifteen minutes… He repeated in his mind. I guess I should look-over the piece, once again… Placing the cloth down and reaching down to the side, he grabbed a hold of his violin case and placed it on top of the wooden dresser; before opening it.

His eyes landed on the top half of the case that held a stitched-in netted pouch that allowed him to place his music sheets, inside. He grabbed hold of the group of sheets that were being covered by blue paper; the title of the piece written on it. He took it out of the pouch and then placed it on the surface of the dresser, beside the case, before moving the top half of the case back so that it rested against the mirror.

Then he grabbed the blue-covered music sheets and opened to the first page. He placed the sheets against the top half of his case, and then lifted his violin from its spot in the case.

He made sure to be gentle with it as he placed his hands securely on it, and raised it from its respective spot. Then he positioned it on his body and grabbed hold of the bow. Quickly, he tuned it to the required sound — doing this immediately since he didn't write the music and knew exactly where it needed to be — and then grabbed his bow.

Looking at the white sheet scattered about with notes, he began to move the bow over the tightened strings and began to play; secretly loving how violent the piece was meant to sound.

"Father, I am not marrying her." He told the man after studying the female beside him. He noticed how her eyes widened, but then settled down. He could spot a small sense of relief in them. So he was right. She didn't want to marry him.

"The deal has already been struck, Ikuto," his father said in a monotone voice. "Her father has agreed to this, and so have I. Neither of you have any say in the matter."

"It's my life. She may not have a say in it because she's a female, but I'm a male, and I have more freedom than she does. And if I say that I'm not marrying her, then I'm not marrying her." He stated bluntly.

His father frowned; the young lady next to him seemingly not offended by what he had just said, but growing more and more hope in her eyes as the seconds ticked by.

"You are bound to this family whether you like it or not, and because of this, you are forced to accept this fate. You and Miss Onagi are to get married. I do not care that you are your own man; no matter how free you feel, you will always belong to this family, and you will always be burdened by your tasks and responsibilities to them. This is one of them."

"The papers have already been drawn-up and signed by her father and myself. You two are to marry in five months. I suggest you start getting to know each other, soon."

The hope in her eyes was gone; doused by his father's words. He felt bad for her. She didn't deserve this…

But they both knew, now, that there was no way out of it. Despite being a pompous bastard, his father was right. If the papers that legalized the deal had already been signed, not even a quick divorce after their marriage, could help them. Those contracts were always, always, always air-tight.

They were bound together until the end of time.

The music was loud.

The audience could feel their hearts beat a little faster as the music took on a great crescendo at the most unexpected of times. Some tried to follow along and pick up the patterns, but just when they thought they had it, they were surprised when it completely changed.

Light chatter would erupt among the crowd when that happened, but would quickly dull down as the music took on a sad hue. They felt their hearts wrench as they heard the low, sweet sound of what was surely meant to be a pained heart.

He, as well, felt the emotion behind it. Briefly, he opened on eye as he looked at the music sheet quickly — memorizing what was next, like a master — before it looked up to stop on the conductor. There, standing atop of a wooden pedestal before a large wooden music stand was Onagi-san.

She was now dressed in a simple, black dress with a small white coat over it as she continued to conduct the band. Her hands were covered by short, white gloves, and in her right hand was a long, black baton with a white ball at the end. She moved her arms gracefully to the brass section, and then to where the string section was. She made sure when to signal to go higher, or lower when it came to the volume of the music. She made sure to move her hands rapidly or slowly depending on how fast she wanted them to play.

And overall, she was doing a magnificent job. There were no questions as to why she was labeled a musical prodigy, just like he had at her age. The pieces that she wrote were full of emotion, just likes his. Only hers were a bit more deeper, and a bit more untamed since she was still so young and needed a little more work when it came to writing music.

But that didn't take away from the magnificence of the piece.

He knew that if any man were set to marry her, they would be proud to have such a talented wife — but not him; for he did not want to marry her, nor did she want to marry him. They were two unfortunate souls that had been taken from their happy lives and thrown together into a forced union for the benefit of his twisted father.

Sometimes he wished that the old customs would just die, already. And it seemed that she felt the same as the piece took on a dark turn.

His hand quickly shot out to turn the page of the music sheet, and scanning the notes, he could practically see the despair that she surely had poured into the music. There was no doubt in his mind that it was over the heartbreak that she recently had to go through.

"How old are you?" He asked her. His father was gone and the two were overlooking the garden of the house from one of the many balconies. The door behind them was shut and locked; his father forcing the two to communicate.

He briefly studied her appearance. While he couldn't judge much of her body since it was respectfully covered, he noticed the outline and curves of her hips and breasts, and he could see the hint of pudginess on her face that make her somewhat resemble a little girl… But he doubted his father would force him to marry a young adolescent female…

"Twenty-four…" She responded, softly; not even raising her head to look up at him as she replied. "May I ask how old you are?" She asked.

"Thirty-five." He responded quickly.

It was at his response that she finally turned her head to look up at him. "You… you do not look thirty-five, Tsukiyomi-san." She said as she studied his younger-looking face. Honestly, she had assumed that he was in his mid-twenties — around her age; maybe off by two or so years. Never would she have guessed that he was thirty-five-years-old.

He gave her a soft smirk. "And you don't exactly look twenty-four yourself, Onagi-san," he said in a low voice. "I had thought that you were a minor." He noticed the gentle blush on her face.

"Thank you…" She said softly. "You are… very kind… T-to be honest with you, Tsukiyomi-san, I—"

He cut her off.

"I know." He said. "You took one look at my father and expected me to be the same way, right?" He stated as he looked at her. She looked away from him before nodding her head; the blush growing.

"Forgive me, Tsukiyomi-san."

"No need to apologize, Onagi-san. It's only natural that one looks to the parents to get a gist of what the children are like. Thankfully for you, I am nothing like my father…"

He assumed her sigh was of relief.

He didn't blame her.

They both knew that her life would be complete and utter hell if he ended up being the spitting image of his father, in every way. But thankfully for the both of them, he was the complete opposite of that horrid man.

They continued to look out into the garden as more seconds ticked by. An awkward silence built-up, and he noticed how she was growing more and more tense the longer she stayed locked-up in the balcony, with him.

Again, he didn't blame her.

The situation was uncomfortable for the both of them.

"So…" He said after a while. The silence was finally becoming too much for him and he knew that the only way that they would get out of that balcony is if they speak a little more, learn a bit more about one another, and show his father that they had passed those awkward moments. "What were you doing before… this was sprung-up on you?" He asked her.

Immediately her body flinched, and locked up.

Her hands wrapped around the thick railing of the balcony more harshly, and she bit her bottom lip. Her eyes became watery… it seemed as if she was about to cry.

"Onagi-san?" He asked; curious as to why she suddenly made her demeanor more depressing. He could see the light shaking of her body as she held back what was surely, her tears. Why was she about to cry?

"I… I..." Her soft voice sounded as she continued to fight back the urge to run and hide herself in her room forever and ever. It was just too bad that she didn't know where her room now was.

"You don't have to answer the question, if you don't want to." He told her. He didn't want to see her breakdown and cry. He absolutely hated it whenever someone began to cry for no apparent reason. But that was the thing. He didn't know whether she had a legit reason for crying, or not.

"No… I… I will answer your question. It is only fair… it is just that… that…"

She took in a deep breath.

"I finally got engaged to my childhood sweetheart… when my father told me I was to marry you…" She said softly; taking a moment to collect hers bearings once again — to make sure that she didn't break down and cry. "…I was forced to break-off the engagement not three hours after he proposed…"

Great.

"What… what about you, Tsukiyomi-san? What had you been doing?" She asked. He could see her trying to build-up a wall and mask her sadness. But she was failing. Miserably.

So he didn't answer her question. Instead he said:

"I'm sorry."

He and Onagi-san were standing side-by-side as The Press, whom had managed to find a way backstage, surrounded the two and flashed pictures of the couple; while at the same time asking questions.

"Tsukiyomi-san, how did you feel about the night's performance?"

"Tsukiyomi-san, how long did you work on that particular piece?"

"Tsukiyomi-san, I understand that your works are always inspired by the events in your life. Can you please tell us what event you used for the inspiration to tonight's music?"

He answered them as best as he could. He was a very secretive man, and did not like to give too much away, so he made sure to hide as much as he possibly could as he answered The Press' questions. His forced-fiancé did the same thing when it was time for her to be bombarded by their annoying and prying questions.

She answered. Her responses were quick and straight to the point, but still withholding the deeper details.

Finally, The Press was escorted from the area by security, and the two were free to move away from each other. He spotted the light dusting of pink on her face as she pulled on the sleeves of her white jacket; another nervous habit of hers: fumbling with her clothing.

"Good job, Tsukiyomi-san," she said after messing around with the edges of the soft material as much as she possibly could. "You did very well in the concerto. I am sure that it has made people love your music all the more." Her compliment was sweet and genuine. Despite being forced into the relationship with him, it seemed as if she was trying to make things work — if not for her benefit, than for his. He knew perfectly well what was expected from a wife in their family. Their one and only rule: to please the husband. To literally give-up all that they have in order to make their spouse happy.

It was a sick and twisted rule that completely took away all of a woman's rights, but it was one that both of their families followed as if it were their religion.

Sad. But true.

"Thank you Onagi-san. And I must say, your music was very moving. I could sense that you poured all of your emotions into it." He said. She nodded her head; her purple eyes taking on a sad glint.

"Yes… I did…" She said softly; he could see how her eyes glistened with unshed tears, once again. A moment of awkward silence then passed between them before Onagi-san cleared her throat. "Please excuse me Tsukiyomi-san, but I must go change into my evening attire. I will be sure to do so quickly and arrive in your dressing room in around ten or so minutes." She informed him.

"Please, take your time to look your best. No hurry." He said. The banquet doesn't even officially start for a half-hour… Was left unspoken; except in his thoughts.

"Thank you…" She said softly. Then she quickly left his side; turning around and heading in the direction opposite from where his room was as she headed towards her own, private dressing room. Not ten seconds later, Tami was standing in front of him; in place of Onagi-san.

Taking a quick glance at her, he noticed how she seemed a little more at ease — as best as she possibly could.

"Good performance." She said to him, calmly.

"Thank you." He responded.

She scoffed. "Really? You're going to take that? Your ass should be offended. I said it was a good performance. Not a fucking great or amazing or ass-kicking performance, but a good performance. That's nothing to be proud about — especially when it was you who fucking performed it. Honestly…" She muttered.

He sighed deeply. Yep, definitely in a better mood than earlier...

"Now hurry up and get your ass in that dressing room. There's no way in hell that you're going to the banquet in the same clothes that you performed in — only pathetic little amateur bitches do that, and while you're a bitch, you're not an amateur bitch."

She began to push him in the way of his dressing room. He allowed her to; never having fought back against her pushy ways in the entire time that she was his manager — having gotten used to it immediately given her reputation in the music industry: the creator of stars, but a major she-devil. But he didn't mind. She was a great manager and helped him spread his music farther. He was close to heading to Korea and performing — the first time he'd present his music outside of Japan.

"Change." She said to him as they reached his dressing room and she shoved him inside; following him soon after. "This is the suit that you're going to be wearing." She lifted a long black bag that had a zipper running down the front. She pulled it down to show him the stunning dark blue and black suit that was underneath.

"Not black and white?" He questioned. Tami shrugged as she zipped it back up and placed it back on the couch.

"That was getting old. Besides, every male there will be dressed in black and white; you need to stand-out. It may be a simple, subtle way, but you'll still stand out. Be sure to where that silver flower." She briefly pointed to a silver-dusted rose that was held inside a plastic cylinder case; sitting on the dresser. "That'll really make you stand-out compared to those losers."

"Anything for more press, huh Tami?" He questioned. She sent him a smirk.

"Do you want to play outside of Japan or not?" She questioned.

He let out a brief laugh.

"When is that going to be, by the way?" He asked as he began to make his way over to the dresser. He placed his violin case on top of the dark-wood dresser and then headed over to where Tami had placed the dress bag on the couch.

"In a few months. All you need is another good three to five performances, and you're guaranteed to play in Korea. But of course, it'll have to be after your wedding." He sighed at the mention of that dreaded day, once again. It seemed as if not a single day could go by where his dream-killing-wedding wouldn't be mentioned. "So I'm thinking eight months — tops."

"Why eight?" He asked as he unzipped the bag and looked at the suit. The jacket and pants were black; the jacket holding large, shining silver buttons. But the dress shirt that he would be wearing was a dark blue color with grey buttons. He found that he liked it a lot better than the usual black-and-white.

"We need at least a one-month period for the news of your marriage to get out. Then, you're going to start getting interviewed on your marriage, play another concerto with her, and finally the people in Korea will come here to see you and they'll make the final decision — that'll all take place in the next seven months. They'll debate it for a month or so — during which you will work your ass off on your CD — and then we'll hear from them whether they'll let you perform in their building or not. If you do as I say, you're guaranteed to play." She stated.

"Sounds like a lot of work." He said as he began to take the clothing out of the bag as careful as he possibly could.

"Well it's necessary if you want to become an international musician. Do you or do you not want to share your music with the world?" She questioned. He paused as he held onto the hanger that the clothing was placed on. His eyes became distant as he stared at the ensemble.

"Music is all I've ever cared about…" He said as he ran his hands along the smooth texture of the black jacket. "And while I don't care if others hear it or not, I do want it to be heard."

"And that's exactly what's gonna happen." Tami said as she began to head towards the door. "Your music will be heard throughout Europe in around two or three years or so, if you manage to do a good job in Korea and get a lot of publicity. Of course, this also means that I'll have to find a translator… But whatever. We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"Now get changed; you only have twenty minutes left before you're supposed to show-up at the banquet." She reached the doorknob to open the door but the door opened on its own.

"Uh… Shi-san, you—" Tami cut-off the stagehand, midsentence.

"What do you want?" She asked the lowly male who was clearly afraid of her. She could see it in his eyes, and sense it in the way that he seemed ready to jump out of his skin at the sight of her.

"I—I… I—" She sighed.

"Get to it already!"

"I have deliveries for Tsukiyomi-san!" The stagehand blurted out at her exclaim.

"Well don't bring them in here. Come with me." The stagehand didn't question her as to what she meant. He simply waited outside for her as she spoke to her client. "Get your ass dressed and down there before those hounds get there. Understood?"

He nodded.

"Good. I'm not putting up with any bullshit from those jackasses today, or ever." And with that said, she left the room. The door closed with a thud behind her, and he let out a sigh of relief now that she was gone.

Now all he had to do was change.

"What do you mean he can't perform?!" Tami shouted at his father as the man stopped them both from leaving the house, and going to downtown Tokyo for his concerto that night.

"Ikuto has responsibilities to attend to, tonight."

She placed her hands on her hips. "And what the hell is that, exactly? Hm? What the fuck could possibly be more important than his performance?" At the raise of her tone, his father signaled for the men in the room with them, to get closer to the young woman.

"He has a fitting tonight."

"For what?!"

"His wedding."

Tami's black eyes widened.

"What?!" She then turned to him. "What the hell?! You're getting married! Since when?" It was clear that she wasn't pleased with the news. To her, weddings always got in the way of becoming a success. There was no doubt that she was pissed that he, of all people, was suddenly getting married — especially after saying that he didn't plan to marry until he was satisfied with his music career.

"It's arranged." He responded.

"Oh… So this is your fault you cold-hearted jackass!" She shouted at his father; who remained cool and calm as he sat back in his large, dark-brown leather chair.

"What I have done is create a better future for my son."

"No. What you've done is completely annihilate his chances at getting what he wants. How is he supposed to do shit while trying to take care of a wife and kids?" She asked; knowing perfectly well what would be expected of him if he were to marry.

"Shi-san, I suggest you lower your voice."

"And I suggest you call-off this fucked-up wedding. I'm not about to let you ruin everything that he's worked for just so you can fucking get your way."

His father was silent.

.

.

.

"Security."

"What?!" She shouted. She turned to see the men in the room coming at her. Immediately she turned back to his father with fire ablaze in her black eyes. She slammed a fist down on his wooden desk. "Your ass is gonna get it. You hear me you soulless little fucker? I'm gonna make sure you don't ruin his life; he has worked too long and too hard for you to just shit on his life like that. From here on out, I'm gonna do all I can to make sure that he continues being a musician. And you can't stop me."

"And from here on out, these two men will be watching you from now on; they will accompany you and my son, everywhere and anywhere. Do you understand?" His father asked.

"Fine. I don't give a shit. Besides, I can take their asses down, anyway." She mumbled. She then shrugged out of the men's grip. "Come on." She grabbed onto his arm and began to lead him out of the room.

"I said he has a fitting tonight."

"I don't give a rat's ass what you said!"

Sure enough, when he arrived at the banquet, he immediately spotted Tami standing in the middle of his father's security men. She had a glass of wine in her hand and he was certain was more-than-pissed at the fact that her plan to get rid of the men for the night, hadn't worked.

Maybe you should've ruined their tires instead, Tami, he thought in his mind. It doesn't appear that getting rid of the gas in their car, worked. Putting on a normal, stoic face, he walked through the crowd with the same air of perfection that always surrounded him, as he made his way over to his belligerent and yet caring, manager.

"Good evening, Tami-san." The greeting did not come from him, but his forced-fiancé, Onagi-san. She was holding onto his right arm, and put a soft smile on her face to hide the sadness that always seemed to consume her, whenever she was seen in public with him. He knew. And he didn't mind.

"Oh hey Yayuki," Tami said as she greeted the young woman. "Good performance." She stated.

She gave a light shrug. "If you believe so…"

Almost immediately, Tami looked up at him. "See," she said as she lifted one of the fingers grasping her champagne glass, to point at Onagi-san. "That's the response I expected from you." He knew what she was talking about; earlier that evening when she had said that he had a good performance.

The edges of his lips moved up slightly. "Forgive me for disappointing you." He said. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." She paused to gulp down the rest of her champagne. Then she handed the now-empty glass to one of his father's security guards. The large and burly man looked down at her with forest-green eyes. "Yes. I gave it to you. Now make yourself useful and get me another."

"I am not here to be your personal—"

"I know what you're here for, you ogre," she hissed back at him. "And I don't care. Now, do as I say or suffer a kick to the groin." She threatened. The man grumbled before sending a look to his companion, and leaving the group to go fetch the woman another drink.

"Anyways," Tami said not a beat after the man had arrived at where the drinks were. "We've got a lot of Press to speak to today, you two. They're currently all being held back by security, but it's only a matter of time until one of those snakes manages to find their way in here. Also, you have to speak to a few people who want to praise the two of you on all sorts of crap — including your upcoming marriage."

"Now, when that issue comes up, remember…" She paused as she looked at the remaining security guards. "Excuse you." She said.

"I am to stay with you at all—"

"Kick. To. The. Groin. And hard." She stated. The man moved about a little before making an excuse to leave, and heading in the same direction as his partner. She momentarily smirked. "It seems that they value their family jewels more than their jobs." She stated.

"You can use that to your advantage." He said.

"Oh don't you worry, I will." She said. Then her face lost all joking matter as she looked at the couple with a very serious expression on your face. "Now as I was saying, when they ask you on your engagement and all that shit that goes with it, remember: quick and sweet responses. Make it seem as if the both of you are as happy as you've ever been, and madly in love. No one can know the truth behind this marriage… it'll screw up both of your careers."

"We know." He responded. "Believe us, that's the last thing either of us want."

"Good…" She paused as both men returned. One of them handed her a glass, and she nodded at him before taking a sip. Then she scrunched her nose, gaining a displeasured look on her face, and looked at the man with fierce eyes. "What is this?" She asked him as she held the champagne glass — that was not filled with champagne — up to his face.

"Water. It would be improper if you—"

"Save it." She said as she cut the man off. "I'm not a lightweight. Now get me some alcohol in that cup or suffer." She warned as she handed the glass filled with water to his counterpart, and gave him an intimidating glare.

The male heaved a sigh before walking away from the group; sharing a glance with his partner before leaving.

"Oh great…" Tami muttered as she looked behind her two clients. "Here come the sharks." They both turned to see what she was talking about. They immediately spotted a large group of people enter the room; many of them holding media equipment in one form or another.

"They're heading directly towards us." He said.

"And me without my alcohol…" Tami mumbled as she watched the group of reporters and paparazzi make a bee-line towards them. She sighed before snapping her fingers and getting the attention of her two clients. "Remember what I said: sweet and loving and all that other shit. Don't fuck this up. If they find out the real reason for why you two are marrying, your credibility in the music industry will go down the drain, and you will never perform, again."

"Why must I marry her?" He asked his father — not a month after the man declared to him that he was to take the young Onagi girl for his bride; against their wills.

"Ikuto, I've already told you why: it's your duty to your family."

"But I know that's not the whole truth," he stated as he continued to stare down at his father as the elderly man smoked on a cigar; the grotesque scent filling the small space of his study. "And if I'm being forced to go through with this, it's only fair that I learn the real reason why."

His father released a cloud of smoke and momentarily stayed silent as he watched it evaporate in the air.

"How is your sister?" His father asked.

He felt a pang of annoyance and anger enter him.

"Don't try and change the subject, Father—" He spoke the word bitterly. "—I want to know why I'm being forced to marry her, and I want to know now."

"I am your father, Ikuto. You will do as I say with no questions asked. Now, do tell me how Utau is doing. I heard she has a kid — a little girl — is that true?" He didn't like the way his father had his eyes narrowed at him. "Have you seen this little girl of Utau's, Ikuto?"

"Why are you asking me this?" Ikuto asked. "You know I haven't seen Utau in five years, Father."

His father shrugged and inhaled and exhaled another grey cloud. "Do you recall seeing a little girl with her when you last saw her? Or perhaps a pregnant figure?"

"Why these questions?" He asked instead of answering. "Why are you so desperate to try and change the subject? What does knowing about Utau's child have to do anything with this? What does this have to do with—"

"Because I know, Ikuto…" His father said in a low and deep grumble as he cut him off.

"Know…" He repeated. "Know about what?"

His father paused inhaling the cigar for a few moments. He watched with confused and calculating blue eyes as his father opened a drawer behind his desk, and then pulled out a black marble notebook. He was confused as to why the strange object was suddenly placed in front of him — that is, until he saw his name written on it.

He immediately recognized the book — his private journal.

"Where—"

"June fourth…" His father began as he opened the notebook to one of its many entries. "And I quote: I have made a discovery of myself. One that I did not know would need to be discovered, because I was oblivious to the fact that it existed. This… this disease… This horrid, dreaded disease that somehow sprung itself on me…"

"Father, how did you—"

"But I can no longer deny it anymore… there is no use trying to write it off as a silly, idiotic prank on my mind. My subconscious. It is plain to me now. As plain as the fact that the sky is blue and the grass is green… I—"

The Press ate into their words as if it were the most scrumptious treat ever to be created. They absolutely loved the way the two portrayed themselves to them: two adults that were madly in love and couldn't wait until the day of their wedding.

Of course, while they managed to pull this off, it was not easy. Many of the questions that were thrown at them, they were not prepared for. Such as the question of how it was that the two came to know each other; and the events that led to his proposal to marry her. Never had they once thought about an answer to that question; because never had it once popped into their mind.

The most obvious question had managed to slip away from their minds. The most crucial question was left without an answer.

When it was posed, the two shared a glance.

Who is going to answer? They both thought. And as The Press kept edging them to respond, he decided that he would recall the tale of their past that led to them being engaged.

"We met through my father…" He could feel the way her hands slightly tightened its grip on his arm. She was shocked that he would say that; most likely thinking that he would tell The Press the truth behind their marital status. But he simply brought her in closer; pushing her body against his side, and moving his left arm to wrap around her back and place itself snuggly on her waist. "…A few years ago. He went on a business trip and took me along; saying that it was important to have something to fall back on if your dreams never truly work-out."

And so he started the fake, made-on-the-spot tale of how he met his so-called beloved fiancé. It was a tale that was believable; he was, after all, a fellow musician and music lover. So telling them that he excused himself from the room where their fathers were speaking, to follow the sound of the music to its source, and that he spotted her and the two began to bond through notes — yes. It was quite a believable story; especially when The Press knew that they both held a great music background.

"It is because of my father, that we are now together."

"But does the age-difference bother you?" One of the reporters asked after the more-than-sufficient tale was told; having quickly scribbled it down in his notepad. "After all, you are eleven years older than Onagi-san, Tsukiyomi-san. Are you bothered that your bride-to-be is so young?"

No. As a matter of fact, I prefer women younger than me instead of the desperate cougars that tend to be my age… He thought in his mind. But knowing that if he were to say that, the reporters would twist the words around and morph it into something that would surely enforce a conspiracy, he decided on using a more appropriate answer.

"No. When you fall in love, age is just a number."

"Father, I—"

"Don't speak, Ikuto…" His father told him as he finished reading the entry, and closed the marble notebook. A few moments of silence passed between them as his father continued to smoke his cigar. It wasn't until he deemed it having served its purpose, and threw the object in the ashtray next to him, that he finally spoke.

"I should have known…" He said as he opened the longest drawer of his desk, and pulled out a large wooden box with a burned insignia in it. "Tell me, son, how did this occur?" He asked as he began to open the box with the silver key that hung from his neck.

"I… I… cannot say…" He responded as the lid of the box hit the wooden desk with a loud thud.

"Oh, but you will…" His father said as he looked upon his selection of cigars; categorized by brand. At his words, he frowned.

"I don't see how it's fair that you get some answers, and I don't." He responded.

His father glanced up at him before looking back down at his cigars. He chose one of his newer ones; not feeling that the occasion was special enough to smoke one of his older cigars. He placed it in between the fingers on his left hand, as he used his right to grasp the lighter. As he lit it, he decided that choosing one of the newer cigars was the best choice.

What better way to toast a new beginning?

"Maybe not…" His father said as he placed the fire against his cigar and watched as the material began to burn. "But at the same time, I am your father and—"

"So? You expect me to tell you everything just because you fucked that woman?"

"Ikuto… language…"

"No. I'm not gonna stand here and watch you use the Father Card on me. You never even cared about me until I finally became a successful musician. Don't act as if you have the right to demand such things from me; just like you didn't have the right to go into my apartment and take that—"

"I didn't have to invade your personal property to get this notebook…" His father said calmly as he put the lighter away and placed the cigar in his mouth. This time, he blew the smoke from his nose; something only a skilled smoker with much experience, could do. "It was delivered to me by a stranger. It seems that you had dropped it after a delightful day at the park…"

He flinched.

"Never in my life would I have thought that one of my own children would turn out to be such a disgrace to society…"

"I am not a disgrace!"

"Then what are you?!" His father shouted; finally having lost his calm and patience at around the same time that he had: when he recited the entry. "Tell me, Ikuto — what the hell should I call you if not a disgrace to society?! Do you know what I had to do in order to get that park-goer to not expose you for what you are?! No. You don't. And that it why you will repay me by marrying that girl, and getting rid of your… mental disability through her, and therapy."

"I am not insane." He countered; his eyes now burning with anger at his father's cruel and selfish words.

"Of course not. Insanity would be easy to cope with. A few tablets every now and then, and you'd be able to go an entire day without others knowing that you were not mentally stable. But this… this is not the same as being insane. This is an entirely different level… something that you must get rid of quickly if you ever wish to lead a normal life."

"My life is already normal…" He muttered. "There is nothing wrong with the way I live…"

His father blew a cloud of smoke that managed to hit him in the face. He raised a hand to wave the smoke away. But even as he did so, his father blew more and more in his direction — and he knew it was on purpose.

"You see what you are doing now, with the smoke? That is how your life is and will forever be, Ikuto…" His father said as he blew a large cloud of smoke in his face. "You will continue to try and try to get rid of it. To be free of the smoke. But every time you feel as if you've gotten close—" More smoke. "—You'll be thrown back to square one, and your previous attempts will be deemed a failure. And it's only a matter of time before you're forced to give-in." He coughed as the smoke entered his mouth; its bitter taste entering his lungs and assaulting his tongue. "And when that happens, your career as a musician will go down the drain in a matter of seconds, and no one will look at you the same way ever again."

"That… that's not true…" He said as he continued to fight back the appalling taste of the cigar smoke. "My career will be the same. Even if… word did get out, that will not stop others from enjoying my music."

"Or so you say," his father said as he leaned back in his chair. "But remember, Ikuto, while many listen to your music because they enjoy it, almost all listen to it because before they fell in love with your music, they fell in love with you — with your image and the way that you are. Can you imagine how shattered that illusion would be once word got out that you carried an unholy mental disability?" He didn't allow him to answer. "Not only will they grow to see you as nothing but a disgusting creature, but they will start to hate your music as well. And it won't be long until you're forced to go into hiding, and are never able to write music, again."

He bit his bottom lip at his father's words.

"Now, I suggest that you go to Miss Onagi and start bonding with her. After all, how are you going to make your marriage work if the two of you are nothing but strangers to one another?"

"No. I will not marry her." He said.

The older man sighed.

"You should be glad that I managed to get her for you, Ikuto." His father said. "She's a young, healthy little thing. She has a musical background like yourself, and even has a few qualities that… suit to your tastes. You're very lucky that I got to her in time — her father warned me that he suspected that a young man would be proposing to her, soon."

"You ruined her engagement." He hissed.

"I did no such thing," his father responded. "If that male proposed to her on the same day that her father told her of your engagement, then that is his fault for not proposing sooner and making your engagement an unhappy occasion."

"We don't want to be married to one another." He stated.

"Too bad; because in four months, that's exactly what's going to happen. You two will be married. And from there, you will use her — on your wedding night and every night after that — to get rid of your sickness until all you can think about is her, her, her and not… them."

"You're a sick, twisted man for using her as a tool." He responded. "She doesn't deserve this hell. Why drag an innocent person into this when the overall situation has absolutely nothing to do with them?" He questioned.

His father let out another puff of smoke. "I have my reasons."

"You sick son of a bitch."

"Watch the language, Ikuto. I'm your father, after all… and I'm also the one in custody of this." His father held up the marble notebook; he flinched and glared at the man as he held it. Almost as if he were mocking him to try and do something — something that would result in his secret getting out…

And as much as he wanted to prove his father wrong, he knew that the man was right.

His life as a musician would be over, if people learned the truth.

He doubted that he would be openly accepted in the musical community if others learned of his dark secret. He knew that people were not very open to such a thing…

"Now, why don't you go take Miss Onagi out to a nice dinner and get to know her a little better, hm? After all, you've got a lot of ground to cover in the four months left before your wedding."

He frowned as he turned around and began to exit the room; his emotions bouncing around within him in a flurry.

He couldn't believe it.

After managing to keep it a secret for so long, the truth was out — or at least, it was now apparent to his father. But dammit, of all the people that could've learned about it, why in God's name did it have to be his father?

He would've preferred it if that civilian who had found his notebook, had been the only one to learn about it.

But no.

The world was obviously against him since, and wanted to expose him for what he really was.

He let out a deep sigh as he exited his father's study; the large dark wood slamming shut behind him, followed by a soft click. Leaning back on the door, he briefly pondered what he was going to do, next.

Obviously he didn't want to get married. He held no feelings for that young woman and he believed in getting married out of love. Marrying her would make him a liar to himself.

Not to mention that there was their careers.

If they got married, people would expect them to have a litter of children. And with children, came great responsibility, time, and energy. How was he going to write music if he was constantly tied down by a child? He'd have to hold-off his music career until the child(ren) got to a reasonable age…

And who knows how long that'll take? He doubted they would be allowed to have just a single child.

God…

He really hated his life, at the moment.

But what was he supposed to do? End it? Certainly not — that was something only foolish people did, and it never solved anything. Suicide just led to more and more problems. Not even in death would he have peace.

So no. With that, he knew that there was only one way to handle the mess that was now his life.

He had to deal with it.

There was no other choice.

Because he is Tsukiyomi Ikuto and this is his life.

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End! That's it. I really hope that you guys enjoyed this chapter. I know that there was no mention of Amu, but I promise you that she'll show up in the next chapter. If you've heard of the story that this is inspired by, then I'm pretty sure that you know where I'm going with this — but since I am a bit of a twisted person, I couldn't help it when I decided to make this story even more fucked-up than it originally would've been. Bear with me though. I tend to do my best writing when it comes to a dark piece, and I don't want this story in any way to be disgusting and unfavorable. I'm gonna do my best to make it as tasteful as I possibly can, so that you readers can enjoy it. But those moments are a few chapters away. Until then, please review! ^^

Xoxoxo Chibi Star Vamp

P.S. Since this is the prologue, it'll be quite a while until I update and post the second chapter. :)