I think you know the drill by now. Tokyo Babylon / X are copyright CLAMP. For the guest ghost appearance, Phantom of the Opera was originally written by Gaston Leroux and was widely popularized by Andrew Lloyd Webber's stage-musical adaptation of the novel.

"We are a vessel of the sum of our experiences; that is the part of our identity that evolves. Those experiences correlated with our native psychological natures—our cores—become who we are. And that is why people can still love us for who we are no matter how much we go through over the years."

I read that somewhere in a literature class, I think. I wish it really was that simple.


"You're saying you think I don't let go of things easily enough; is that it?"

"That's not entirely the point, Sumeragi-san." Erik stopped walking through the Opera House catacombs and turned to face Subaru, decisively rapping his cane to rest between his boots and taking a deep breath through his masked nose—a purely habitual gesture for a ghost—staring into Subaru's uncovered eye. "…I am saying that one day, you're going to wake up and realize that you defined your entire life in terms of your tragedy, and that you've lost sight of who you truly are beyond that. And you'll… try to remember why you keep hanging on, and you'll half-guess that it's because without clinging to those things that you use to define yourself, you think your life will be empty. That there will be nothing left. Tell me, what are your views on the afterlife?"

"What?"

"Do you believe you'll be reincarnated, or do you believe this is your one bid at life?"

"…I'm not quite sure."

"Think about it. If this is your one bid at life, then that's it! This is your one shot; do you want to spend it in abject misery?" He took a deep breath and looked Subaru over. Erik's Japanese was heavily accented in French, but fluent. He claimed he had learned it from the droves of post-war tourists who passed the gravesite. "…you're not happy locked up in your obsession—addiction, if you will, whatever it is. Yes, addiction. Trust me; no life is worth wasting in your state. And it's something I'm afraid you won't realize until too much of it is gone. Trust me. I know well what I'm talking about."

Subaru stared back, slowly formulating a response. Since he had arrived at Christine de Chagny's gravesite earlier that day to exorcise this 'opera ghost' who had been terrorizing tourists who did not treat the gravesite with due respect, and since he had finally gained Erik's trust, the ghost had been briskly leading him around Paris, gesturing with his cane toward every worthy attraction on their way to the Garnier Opera House and talking about them at length. The past ten minutes, Subaru had been running after Erik as the ghost lead him through the waiting tourists in the lobby, stopping as Erik snickered at a Japanese tour guide who was telling her group that though a musical had popularized the concept, there was no underground lake or Phantom of the Opera. Erik had picked the lock of Box Five from the inside for Subaru's benefit and, after breaking through the new floor with the butt of his cane and a resulting, theatrical explosion, had lead Subaru down an old hatch that curved through the basin of the box, like a slide, and dropped sharply down a hollow shaft in the wall to the catacombs. People were rattling the Box Five door and yelling in French as Subaru descended after Erik, assuming he had somehow barricaded the door.

"…the reason I've taken a shine to you, Sumeragi-san, over every other exorcist that has been sent after me over countless decades, is that you remind me of myself in a lot of disturbing ways, as if that isn't bloody obvious enough already." Erik was still staring at Subaru, resting with both hands on the skull-head of his cane. "I don't mind admitting that. And I think, despite all of that, your heart is pure, unlike mine. It would be a shame to see you rot through our shared faults."

"I think… people who do bad things are just very lonely."

"…Monsieur Erik, if you don't mind me asking, how many people did you kill during your lifetime?"

"I lost count. It's not countless numbers, but it's significant."

"Why did you commit murder?"

"People were in my way. Intimidation. To maintain control of the Opera House. I got no pleasure out of murder; I was no common serial killer. I didn't care either way. It was a means to an end to maintain my lifestyle."

"How can somebody do that? I mean, all of that, not just the killing, but the notes, the… orders, the manipulation, the… scaring people—"

Erik smirked and nodded slightly, touching the brim of his Fedora with his free hand. "Once you lose your integrity, the rest is easy."

"…I see." I'm afraid I see a lot of somebody else in you, too, Erik-san…

"Why do you ask?" Erik watched Subaru for a moment, inclining his chin back slightly, and made a small noise of realization. "Ahh. The 'illusionist' that hurt you. Don't start like that—" Subaru unclenched his fist. "—I guessed a long time ago. You skirted the topic when I asked you where you had dealt with illusion-magic before. He—she—whoever, must have been a murderer as well. And, tell me, Sumeragi-san, how much of that person you see in me?"

"…enough."

"…don't want to talk about it? Fine. I won't prod. I get enough information without you answering questions, anyway."

Subaru kept his expression smooth, though he fought the urge to punch Erik. The problem with ghosts like Erik was that they knew that they were brilliant, and they were not shy about rubbing it in Subaru's face. It had happened many times before; multiple ghosts had, after decades of boredom, made a field day out of psychologically dissecting Subaru before being sent to the afterlife, and they were eager to share their results so Subaru could be awed by their profound insight. Even those who actually cared about Subaru and wanted to help him were irritating because they were often uncomfortably close to the truth on the most taboo and painful of topics.

"I just have a few questions," said Subaru.

"What is it? Come on; follow." Erik pivoted, his cape fluttering around his ankles, and strode down the dark corridor. Subaru followed at a brisk walk, feeling rats scurry along the edges of the hall at his approach. "I can talk and walk at the same time."

"Why do you use illusions?"

"…hm. I assume you mean 'Why do people like me and the person-who-hurt-you, deranged homicidal maniacs, probably quite solitary, use illusions?' Hm. I guess…" Erik thought for a moment. "…I guess the only thing I've noticed in common with all illusionists is that they're all profoundly lonely deep down. Question is which they were first: lonely or illusionists."

Subaru looked up and stared at the back of Erik's head. Erik was striding ahead weightlessly, dodging bad steps and catches and shining his light on them so Subaru could step over.

"An illusionist..." said Erik. "I assume he's—she's manipulative."

"…extremely. He." And it would be really nice if we could turn the focus back to you.

"Really? I thought it was a girl who broke your heart. Best friend?"

"No."

"Brother? Father? Family?"

"No."

"…I hope you don't mind me asking, but it seems popular nowadays. Are you, um, how do you say… liking men? Homosexual?"

"Yes."

"Really." Erik looked over his shoulder and looked Subaru up and down. "You seem… what's a word… whipped enough, but aside from that, you seem too normal. Forgiving my bluntness."

"Forgiven." And how many homosexuals have you been able to identify in isolation, anyway? Only those who are obvious.

Subaru noticed that fog was starting to unfurl around his ankles, drifting from a source around corner behind which Erik had just disappeared.

"Ah, here we are. The gondola."

Subaru turned the final corner and stopped at the shore-break of a brackish, mist-shrouded lake, barely illuminated by the head of Erik's cane. Erik was motioning a dilapidated gondola toward the shore until it nosed into the gravely break, cutting a black swath through the fine, gauzy fog.

"Sir, if you would please step inside. I can't believe this is still here after the excavation. It's probably the last of my personal effects left in this opera house. Everything else was auctioned off. Don't worry." Erik stepped over the boat and pounded the hull with the butt of his cane. "It's stable. The hull is steel, and yes, this is a solid cane. It qualifies."

Subaru gingerly stepped into the wooden gondola and sat in the prow, half-listening to Erik talk about the 1870 fire, the aftermath, the theater vaults—He hasn't had a soul to truly talk to in I-don't-know-how-long.

—people who do bad things are just very lonely—

—Seishirou-san—

The opposite shore was scraped of former belongings. There were holes bored into the wet rock where candelabras had once stood, and trinkets left in the churned dust were testimony to excavators and, if one dug deeply enough, Erik's former occupation of the space. Erik had seated himself on a rocky outcrop close to the boat while Subaru looked around respectfully, sensing the lair for any important information.

"Not much to look at now, is it?"

"Your presence is very strong here, Monsieur Erik."

"You know, for a Japanese, you've learned to… eh… work your tongue around French very smoothly."

"I spent my childhood learning spells with similar sounds."

"Ah." Erik cocked his head thoughtfully. "…listen. Can you hear the ghost of the music?"

Subaru listened for a moment. Erik tapped the rock with the side of his cane.

"The ghost of the music lives on. So much of that music was testimony to my… obsession. My coil." Erik tapped his half-mask with a gloved forefinger. Subaru fought the reciprocal urge to touch his bandaged eye, clearly remembering the run-around he had to go through to order a prosthetic eye that was perfectly blank, not painted to look like a living eye. "Look. I've carried my tragedy with me to my ghost-form; that's how much it has burned itself into my psyche."

"I noticed."

"And yet, you didn't question. You're either very polite, or very secure." Erik sighed. "And my ghost form is physically as it was in 1881, the year of that fire, but I do not expect you to know that. It's testimony to the anchor to my… other tragedy. The mundane one, in comparison, but something to which I anchored myself for similar reasons."

He stared off into the distance. Subaru walked over to the rocky outcrop and sat next to Erik.

"The woman whose gravesite you guarded, Christine de Chagny."

"Obviously. Yes. Let's not get into that. But, yes. Her." Erik waved his hand. "What you need to know about that is more… abstract. Listen. I'm not going to ask you to tell me what exactly happened to you, but from what I have seen, it has had similar effects on you. In the first place… why I have license to talk to you this way… I guess…" He thought for a moment. "…well, I grew up. I matured after the occurrences of that year, partially because one… kind gesture opened my eyes to a lot of things, made me realize how off-balance… I think that's how you say… off-balance my perspective was. And it made me realize a lot. I never again took a life or committed violence. Take that down for your criminology textbook—"

—people who do bad things are just very lonely—

"—but, even with that knowledge, I never let go of my tragedy during my earthly life. Why? Because it's so easy to realize and so hard to let go of, like anything else. Easier said than done. My childhood was so… bad it would always be in my psyche, but I clung on to the other things too, like a packrat, so to speak. It weighed me down." Erik was staring at Subaru. "You're weighed down. And I think you're like me."

I think we're quite different, Erik-san. I think our tragedies are different.

"—everything in your life is defined in terms of this man and your tragedy with him, am I correct?"

"…yes."

"Might I ask his name?"

Subaru did not respond.

"…all right. I could get into gruesome psychological detail, but… I just have one question for you, Sumeragi-san. Answer me if you can." Erik leaned forward on his cane and stared at Subaru under the brim of his hat. "At what point does a man cease to be himself and starts to be defined by his tragedy? Who is Sumeragi Subaru without that tragedy?"

Subaru swallowed. The first answer to come to mind, of course, was 'nothing', but he could not bring himself to say it. He knew Erik would pounce and wring the analytical fiber out of him

"…look." Erik fished in his vest and pulled out a real, aquamarine-set ring on a chain. It looked as though it was going to fall through his translucent, gloved hand. "I wore it on me every second of my remaining life, until death. I took it with me to my ghost form, along with my mask and disfigurement. Which relics do you carry on you at every moment you refuse to discard?"

The backs of Subaru's hands tingled. "…you never got over her, did you?"

"…no. I didn't allow it." Erik turned the aquamarine ring over in his palm sadly. "That pain kept her… alive, in a sense, to me. Tied to me. Yes, 'tied' is the word. I haunted… 'followed', I believe is a close translation… followed them until the day I died. I had nowhere else to go; I was expelled from the Opera House, and I was sure I was going to go my own way, but I came crawling back… The situations, my relative situations to the rest of humanity, such as they are, on various degrees of specifics, had worked themselves too far into my psyche. It inspired my music—I think it was a fore-curser to Don Juan Triumphant—it fortified my sense of self, it became me. I could not exist without it; I would lose my identity. It was the meter by which I judged the substance in my life. Wretched way to waste a life, which I knew damn well at the time, but…"

"I see."

"And you're not over him, are you? We're the same in that sense, aren't we?"

"I'll always be the captive of the sakura."

"The what? That's… a type of flower, is it not? The peach blossom?"

"Cherry. Just like it sounds."

"Uh-huh. Well, by whatever that means… being a captive is one thing, but are you a captive with a sense of self that extends beyond your bonds?"

Subaru did not answer. Erik tapped his cane impatiently. "You fool. Can't you see what I've been trying to tell you? Heed my warning; you're heading down a dead-end path! There's always time to turn back; your life's not over yet. You're so young! You've got to find yourself again before it's too late! And don't blow me off as some new-age moron; I know damn well what I'm talking about, and I know it applies to you. You're a good man. You deserve better than what you've given yourself."

Subaru smiled to himself. "I wonder, Monsieur Erik, if you would say words like that before you had been shown a bit of kindness."

"Hardly. I wouldn't give a care about you unless you were of use to me. I'm not proud of what I used to be. I finally realized what an ignorant, selfish child I was." Erik thought for a moment. "And even if nobody but you or I or that man in this world knew, the Sandman will always know. And he's the harshest judge of how well you have healed."

"Sandman?"

"I assume you dream, Sumeragi-san. You're a magical man. Esoteric, if you will, arcane. Intuitive. You know what I mean." Subaru nodded. "There are the dreams that make you desperately want to awaken, because they make you relive your tragedy, and then there are the dreams that desperately make you want to stay asleep, because they…" Erik mouthed the Japanese words experimentally for a moment. "…give you what you can never have. The Sandman knows, and he's always watching. He gives no rest to those who cling to their tragedies. Some people just don't dream very vividly, but for those of us who have fallen into his grasp… our measure of freedom is in how well he treats us at night. So, tell me, how often do you awaken smelling the sakura?"

Subaru sighed. I'm growing weary of this topic. "…not as often as you'd think. Not every night."

"But often enough? Get much good sleep?"

"Monsieur Erik, what if you had been hurt out of… outright betrayal?" Erik looked at Subaru out of the corners of his eyes. Yeah, so shut up. "It's a different… tragedy, if somebody betrays you after lying to your face for so long, and… takes someone irreplaceable, something more precious to you than your own life… it's just different than if they've been doing something to your face all along." He thought for a moment. "Like the people who always feared and scorned you; they didn't pretend to be your friends and loathe you behind your back, at least."

"I never said we were one and the same, Sumeragi-san. I never said I understood your pain. I just said we were becoming similar creatures because of it. And, by the way, as a child I was rejected by my own mother to end up a personal jester for the sultana of Persia. She was a… how would you say… 'hardcore sadist'. I do know that much pain. It's not the same, but it's malice. I know malice." Erik arched his eyebrows. "And what you say is intriguing, I must admit."

"And I must admit that I don't appreciate being picked apart for your amusement." Subaru took a deep breath and clenched his fists. Calm. Calm down. "…sorry. I know you are just trying to help, but you are treading on dangerous ground."

"Understood." Erik narrowed his eyes and looked across the water. "…time is going. But, I can't just allow you to exorcise me without warning you of what I know all too well. I didn't mean to bring up anything unpleasant." Erik looked at Subaru. "I… eh… can't hope that you'll decide to let me stay on earth, can I?"

"I'm sorry, but no. Now that I know you still haunt the living world, I am bound to send you to the afterlife. I can make no acceptations."

"That's a shame." Erik thought for a long time and sighed. "…oh well. I've been ready to leave this godforsaken rock for a long time. I guess I won't fight you."

"I greatly appreciate it. I don't want to fight you."

"Then we're in agreement." Erik stood and dusted off his translucent cape out of habit. "…well, I assume you're only here in France for a short time, and I would like you to get some time to see Paris before you have to return to Japan. I won't hold you much longer in this dungeon. I've said my piece. Tempted though I am I can't very well repeat it all night until it sticks in your skull." His face was unreadable. "…it's something you'll just have to… realize one day, I guess, before you truly hear my words. And by that day, I hope to God it isn't too late for you, Sumeragi Subaru-san."

"…we can only hope."

"May I ask one more—well, two—two, yes, two more favors of you before I am sent?"

"Of course."

"First, I want you to have this." Erik lifted the ring-and-chain off his neck and set it ring-first in Subaru's outstretched palm, coiling the ice-cold chain around the ring. Frost dissolved on the metal as it nestled into Subaru's living skin. "Do as you will with it, but keep it with you until you return home. Maybe my chain will remind you of my words when you need them most."

"I will."

"And, second, if you ever feel the need to talk to us ghosts in séance, or however you say… I want to hear if the Sandman has passed merciful judgment on you. After you make your decision on what you will do now. Think of it as an update of concern."

Subaru thought of the number of times he had ever done a séance to re-summon a sent ghost and nodded. Dodged that one. "…all right."

Erik nodded and sighed, removing his Fedora and closing his eyes for a long time with his hat held loosely in the hand clasping the top of his cane. He peeled his mask off with his free hand—Subaru was able to see that it was no ghostly manifestation, but actual bone—and threw it to his side where it skidded across the gravel on its face, then removed his wig and threw it into the lake. The face beneath the mask was smooth and whole, as normal as the left side of Erik's face, and his white, ghostly eye was normal and brown. The damaged, thick skin that spanned his entire face had smoothed to that belonging to a man in his thirties—a man who took good care of his skin and stayed out of the sun—and his thin, damaged hair had blackened and thickened. Erik, as he would have appeared if he had been born 'normal', was not gorgeous, but he could be considered vaguely handsome. He opened his eyes and nodded.

"You see? I discard my restraints; you discard yours. Finally." Erik touched the right side of his face in vague wonder, feeling more the essence of wholeness and health than the actual, physical representation, and smiled. "I don't quite feel like myself."

"Did you just discard your identity?"

Erik thought for a moment, still fingering his cheek. "…I really don't think I did after all."

Subaru closed his hand around the cold chain-and-ring, preparing to drop them into his coat pocket so he could perform the exorcism, and stopped. A minute essence within the ring's gemstone was nudging his palm, flickering for a split second longer than Subaru needed to get a clear, intuitive picture of the ring's meaning. He dropped the ring into the open pocket.

"You know that Madame Christine wanted you to be happy, right?"

"…I know. It wasn't the ring that first told me that." Erik smiled to himself, lost in the vestiges of a memory, and nodded to Subaru. "I only wish I could say the same of the illusionist in your life that hurt you—" Subaru closed his eyes. "—but something tells me I cannot."

"…was it really all about the identity, Monsieur Erik?"

"What?"

"Was any element of your obsession still love after a while?"

Erik stopped and stared back at Subaru. He took a deep, shuddering sigh and closed his eyes.

"Of course it was. Christine was… everything… but… I don't know." He opened his eyes. "…I can't warn you against falling in love with the wrong people, because there's nothing to be done about it. I can't tell you to stop loving somebody. I can only tell you why people refuse to try to let go of those losses." He paused. "You're in love with the man who betrayed you, aren't you?"

Subaru stared at Erik in silent affirmation. Erik nodded slowly.

"And it's as bad as I thought it was for you." He smiled thinly. "Don't tell me he's your only one, the one you're sure beyond any shadow of doubt you're destined to be with."

Subaru stared. Erik laughed humorlessly and shook his head.

"Oh, Sumeragi-san, I don't envy you your burden." He tilted his head. "Bound by hate and love, by the sound of it, the deadly Gemini of attraction. You have the forces that move the heavens… how would you say… binding you to that one man. Your obsession. Love. Identity—"

"—it's time." All right, you're done. Erik blinked; Subaru opened his eyes and held up his interlocked hands, forefingers overlapped by middle fingers, and took a deep breath, calming his fraying nerves. Erik took a deep breath and closed his eyes, grasping his cane for support. Subaru took another deep, meditative breath, and bowed slightly. "…thank you. You really are a kind person, Monsieur." Now, go be kind in the afterlife where I don't have to listen to you anymore.

"No, I'm not, but that's all right. It's hard to see somebody might not be so nice when they've taken favor with you." Erik bowed slightly over his cane and steeled himself. "Right. Let's see if the Angel of Music truly belongs in heaven or hell."

"There's nobody up here with eyes as lonely as yours."

"Heaven, with my sister," Subaru said before thinking. Erik stared.

"And, might I ask her name?"

"…Hokuto."

"Ho-kuto. I will send her regards. But I assume I'd best not tell her how sad you look right now, should I?"

"…I think she'd just rather hear you sing." Subaru steadied his interlocked hands. "Farewell, Monsieur Erik. God grant you peace."

"God grant you peace, Sumeragi-san. God knows you need it."