Disclaimer: Inuyasha isn't mine, neither is Phantom of the Opera.
A/N: I watched the movie recently and a certain scene stood out to me, but I'll have to tell you which one later on. Anyway, it got stuck in my brain and it won't leave, so here we are. I find lyric fics kinda irritating, so I won't be writing out the words to every song, but sometimes I think I'll have to. So, don't take it too seriously, be sure to leave me a review and enjoy!
The Opera Populaire overlooked the bustling streets of Paris. The sunlight glinted off the marble pillars, making the whole building appear to shine. A horse-drawn carriage pulled up and three men got out. One was portly and nervous looking, one was confident and suave and the last one was tall and boyishly handsome.
"Isn't it beautiful Hachi?" Miroku said, taking a moment to appreciate the sight. There were plenty of beautiful buildings in Paris, but he had taken one look on the Opera Populaire and decided he had to have it. And now, he did.
"It is," Hachi agreed, "I just hope we have better luck in the arts than we ever had in the junk business."
"Scrap metal." Miroku corrected tersely. He would not allow Hachi to ruin his good mood!
Miroku felt very small, standing at the bottom of the grand staircase. But it wasn't a bad feeling, it was like looking at an ocean and marveling at its size. The statues were polished to gleaming perfection, not a speck of dust to be found anywhere. A spectacular stained-glass ceiling made the sunlight dance ever-shifting patterns on the floor. The majesty of the room was a strange backdrop for the large, bald and possibly intoxicated man that greeted them.
"Miroku, Hachi, Monsieur Vicomte, welcome."
"Master Mushin!" Hachi bowed deeply. Pleasantries were exchanged, though if Miroku were being honest, this man should probably have retired years ago. He absolutely reeked of alcohol.
Mushin grunted and scratched at his red nose.
"You're just in time for rehearsal. I'm sure you saw the poster."
They had indeed; tonight's production was a new work titled "Hannibal Comes". The Opera Populaire prided itself on being the first to debut new works, but they only accepted the very best. Mushin explained on the way.
Hannibal was a majestic hero who traveled to India to free the slaves and earn the love of the beautiful princess. Not a very creative story, but Miroku had long felt that the story wasn't really the point. That honour fell to creating a visual, and musical experience.
A woman awaited them backstage. She needed no introduction, her willowy beauty and regal way of standing told Miroku her profession.
"Lady Kikyo," He said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, "It's an honour to meet you." Kikyo was famous throughout Paris. In her youth, she'd been one of the greatest ballerinas to ever grace the stage. But for unknown reasons, she had retired, choosing to train new dancers and choreograph the productions. She inclined her head politely, but she was entirely unfazed by his charm.
"We take great pride in our ballet," She told him, guiding them to a spot where they could observe without being in the way. Hachi and the Vicomte trailed a few steps behind them, gazing rapturously at the dancers. There were approximately a dozen ballerinas in this particular scene, portraying scantily clad slave girls.
"I can see why," Miroku assured her. He wasn't just saying that because of the costumes, though they certainly didn't hurt. His gaze fell on a girl with waist-length chestnut-brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes "Who is that exceptional beauty?"
"My shining star, Sango."
"Sango," Miroku murmured. Hachi nudged him in the ribs and he snapped out of his trance. "And that lovely girl?" He gestured to a ballerina with thick black hair and wide grey eyes.
"Kagome." Kikyo answered, "My niece. Very promising talent."
The song came to an end. Kikyo guided them towards the sounds of a very irritated diva. Dressed in an elaborate headdress and shimmering golden gown, she berated one of the mezzos for daring to step on her dress by mistake.
"Tsubaki," Mushin said loudly, "Our leading soprano for five seasons."
Tsubaki's tirade abruptly halted and she put on her best, show-stopping smile, extending a graceful hand for each of the gentlemen to kiss in turn. She was lovely, Miroku had to admit, her haughty demeanour made her beauty pale in comparison to Sango's. Mushin stepped forward and cleared his throat.
"Sorry for the interruption everyone, but I have an announcement to make. I know there have been rumours about my imminent retirement, and I'm here to tell you the rumours are true." He paused a moment to allow the news to sink in. "I would like to introduce you to the two men that now own the Opera Populaire, Monsieur Hachiemon and Monsieur Miroku." The cast and musicians applauded politely. Miroku caught Sango's eye and resisted the urge to wink.
"And it is my pleasure to introduce our new patron, the Vicomte to Chagney"
"It's Hojo." Kagome whispered to Sango.
He'd grown in the nine years since they'd last seen each other, but his light brown hair, wide innocent eyes and happy smile hadn't changed a bit.
"Before my mother died, you could say we were childhood sweethearts." Sango smiled and squeezed Kagome's hand.
"Handsome, isn't he?" She teased. At a reproving look from Kikyo, the girls turned their attention back to their new patron.
"My family and I love to support all the arts, especially the world-famous Opera Populaire. I will see you tonight at the show." He bowed and made his exit.
The moment he was out of earshot, Tsubaki's smile vanished and she stormed up to Mushin.
"If the new managers are so excited by dancing girls, they can go to a ballet because I will not be singing!" She turned on her heel and strode towards her handmaids. The cast members shared looks of annoyance, one even finger-waved goodbye. Miroku and Hachi looked confusedly at Mushin who sighed and muttered,
"Grovel."
Hachi hung back, letting Miroku take it from here. They were the perfect business partners; Hachi was the neurotic one that handled all the finances and details, Miroku was the charming one that got everyone to like him and support their ventures.
"My dear Tsubaki," Miroku said, "we have the utmost appreciation for your talent, we merely didn't wish to interrupt you while you were mid-song. In fact, I hear there is a lovely aria in act three, perhaps you could honour me with a performance? And may I say, you look absolutely stunning on the poster."
Mushin snorted. The man learned fast. Tsubaki smiled and curtsied.
"If my manager commands." She said sweetly.
The conductor and orchestra scrambled to get prepared for the act three aria.
"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye! Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try!
When you find, that once again you long to take your heart back and be free"
There was a loud crack and a heavy beam fell from the ceiling, bringing one of the backdrops down with it, narrowly missing Tsubaki's head. The actors scattered and one of the ballerinas screamed in fright. If not for the supporting cage under Tsubaki's gown, the plank might have crushed her. She shouted and pounded the floor with her hands, demanding that they assist her.
"The phantom of the opera!" Kagome cried, hugging Sango in fright. Unseen, Kikyo slipped away, her keen eyes scanning the rafters above.
"Onigumo!" Mushin shouted, "What's going on up there? Tell us!"
A scruffy man rushed to the wheel that controlled the backdrops, lifting it off the fallen soprano.
"It wasn't me!" He protested, "I wasn't at my post. It must have been a ghost." The disgusted look on Mushin's face told Miroku that if that was an attempt at humour, it wasn't funny. He hurried to help Tsubaki to her feet. She fixed them in a glare that had Miroku picturing a bird of prey, complete with the ruffled feathers.
"Madam Tsubaki," He said in a placating tone, "these things do happen,"
This was apparently the wrong thing to say.
"These things do happen?!" Tsubaki exclaimed, "Until you stop these things from happening, this thing, does not happen! Goodbye!"
She turned on her heel and stormed from the stage, followed by her handmaid. The leading baritone, whose name Miroku didn't know gave them a despairing look.
"Amateurs." He scoffed.
"Well gentlemen," Mushin said, "Have fun. If you need me, I'll be in Australia." He followed after Tsubaki.
"Erm, she will be back, won't she?" Hachi asked nervously. The cast didn't seem surprised, perhaps this was a normal occurrence? The baritone graced them with a shrug, everyone else was whispering amongst themselves.
"I doubt it." Kikyo said softly. She held out an envelope sealed with red wax, "I have a message for you from the opera ghost." Miroku considered himself a patient man, but he had just about reached his limit.
"You are all obsessed!" he exclaimed. Kikyo's lips twitched as though she was trying to contain a knowing smile.
"He welcomes you to his opera house," She paused, waiting for the new owners to express their indignance before continuing, "Asks you to continue leaving box five empty for his use, and reminds you that his salary is due."
"His salary?" Hachi asked incredulously. Kikyo nodded,
"Monsieur Mushin used to give him twenty-thousand francs a month. Perhaps with our new patron you can afford more?" Her lips twitched again when Hachi's eyes seemed ready to pop out of his head.
"We have lost our star!" Miroku snapped, tearing the letter into small pieces, "If he wants his salary so badly, he'll have to wait. We will have to refund a full house!"
"Perhaps not," Kikyo replied, "Come here Kagome." The raven-haired ballerina from earlier approached shyly. Kikyo gently rested her hand on her shoulder and gave a reassuring smile. "The aria from act three, please."
Hachi and Miroku were too stunned to argue. Was Kikyo insane? A chorus-girl, a dancer, replace the famous La Tsubaki? Kagome took a breath and the voice of an angel reached Miroku's ears.
That night, hundreds of well-dressed guests gazed at the lovely girl on stage, enraptured by her gentle, yet powerful voice. Dressed in a shimmering white gown, with glittering starbursts in her hair, Kagome sang of a girl thinking fondly of her past love, beseeching him to remember her from time to time. From his seat in box five, Hojo straightened up, certain he was hallucinating.
"Kagome," he whispered, "Can it be?"
It's been so long, she's probably forgotten all about me. But I could never forget her.
The sound of her voice awakened a fluttering in his heart.
Unbeknownst to him, Kagome's voice reached far beyond the confines of the theatre. Beneath them, a figure stirred.
Perhaps she was finally ready.
TBC