Chapter 1
Ran sat reclined in a leather seat as the airplane was taxied away from the runway. The Hong Kong to Tokyo midnight flight had been a tiring, or maybe it hadn't been exciting enough to keep him awake. After finishing making a new music video he'd hoped to get some time to enjoy Southern China, but no such luck. Not surprising though, a young Japanese man with blood red hair and violet eyes is a little quite easy to pick out in a crowd by any fan. His luck was still bad because the flight was so boring. The first-class accommodations on the flight offered no good-looking attendants that he'd seen. The in-flight movie was some action flick called "XXX" with a man that looked like a rubber ducky. His meal was something between plastic and wood while his seat was smelled like cheap cologne. Being next to Ken didn't help either. He wasn't loud or hyper, but fast asleep since they'd taken off. He didn't blame the brunette for passing out so quickly, Hong Kong owned the most demanding fans ever seen.
At the Chinese airport thousands of those fanatics hounded them. The noise level rivaled any concert Ran had ever been to. It was the price paid to be an idol. Though he never saw himself as much of anything really, just a band member.
Looking passed Ken and out the window, the rain was pouring down heavily outside turning the view of the airport into distorted bubbles of light and dark. It was still too early for dawn and the field was lit with speckles orange dots. Ran liked the sound of rain; it was a beautiful orchestra of infinite instruments to him. When he was a child his mother had told him that if he listened hard enough he'd hear the song the rain was playing. It was what lulled him to sleep many lonely nights after she'd died.
Sighing to himself he looked over his band members, his brothers. The sleeping brunette was Hidaka Ken the band's vocalist. Sitting behind Ken and him were the other two members. The tall blonde was Kudou Yohji, the eldest of the group and the guitarist, and their youngest member was a small strawberry blonde who called himself Tsukiyono Omi. Omi and Ran played the keyboards and did all the synthesizing. There were four of them that made the Japanese based group called Weiß.
No much to look at in his own opinion, but they're fans like them. In fact, their fans liked them a little too much. It was getting annoying and tiresome.
Yohji was asleep while Omi was sitting looking out the window intently. Omi was only 17, still in school. His real name was Takatori Mamoru and his family was very well off, he'd changed it to prove he had more to himself than a name. Not that Ran found the name Takatori to be very great anyway. Omi's father was ok, but his uncle had nearly run his sister over once and the big koala never even apologized for it. As a Fujimiya, Ran did not let old grudges die quietly.
Laying back into his seat, he gave another sigh. He was so bored. He watched lazily as a man sitting in front of him got up. The man was foreign, tall with black hair and wearing a pristine white suit. The well-dressed man began pulling something from the overhead compartment.
"Sir, please remain in your seat until we have come to a complete stop," a Japanese flight attendant appeared instantly next the Ran.
"Of course. Just a moment." Perfect Japanese with no accent, he must be here on business. Businessmen are the only people who care about learning foreign languages properly. He was probably flying to the United States, making him an American.
"Please sit down now, sir." The man gave a sigh and looked at the attendant. He held a briefcase in his hands now.
"Very well then." He sat down and buckled while his seat partner laughed rather loudly.
"What's his problem?" Ken yawned and stretched as he'd woken up finally.
"Enjoy your nap?" the redhead asked with a faint smirk playing at his lips.
"Yeah, but it'd been nicer if I hadn't been woken up." Ken pouted. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then turned to see the other two. Yohji had woken up as well, but he'd been less annoyed since he was now flirting with the attendant.
That was Yohji, playboy of the world. He flirted with any girl who was even slightly attractive. It was very shameful. His appetite spanned the entire female populace. But he never dated. He'd lost his first girlfriend in an accident and that about anyone of the group knew about it.
The attendant started giggling. However the flight was now over and she was being called to the front. As the woman made for the front of the plane, she stopped next to the businessman again. Ran looked curiously for what had caught her attention, it was something of the TV screen. A commercial for Weiß's new video was playing. Ran sighed as the attendant turned to stare directing at him. She was totally in shock.
This was getting extremely annoying with everyone always singling him out.
"Do you mind?" The girl jumped back as the tall foreigner stood. The attendant took one more look at the musician then vanished to the front. She had the biggest grin plastered to her face.
"Well, well, well. Looks like somebody got star struck." It was a nasally voice from another foreign who sat next the businessman. He was just as tall as his friend but wearing a loud green suit and had a wild mass of orange hair. "You should really think about changing your hair kid, people could see you from a mile away." The man smirked like the little cocky foreigner that he was.
"The same could be said about you, but at least I'm not hideous sight to see." Ran stared back evenly. The carrot top sneered and puffed at him. He looked ready to kill but thought better of it. He turned and walked to the head of the plane behind his seat partner. Ken pocked Ran in the ribs as they also stood to leave.
"He's right, you do stick out. I told you need get your hair fixed," Ken stated in a rather matter-of-fact tone.
"Kenken, if he did that it just wouldn't be the Ran we know and love." Yohji emphasized his point by hugging the glaring young man. Omi laughed and smacked Yohji on the head.
It was a slow process to get from their seats to the luggage claim. It was amazing how intelligent, resourceful and supernaturally fast fans are, they just always know where their bishounen were. Maybe they were psychic. Nevertheless, it took one hour and twelve bodyguards to finally get their luggage and it took another hour to get to the limousine.
"We've got to get better security." Omi sigh as he rubbed his war wound of the day, or is it still technically night. It was still dark, but he was getting so confused. Ran was getting annoyed with everything. Everything except the recording studio they were in.
It was his favorite places in the world were recording studios and their record label owned a lot. The large and impressive building they were in was five levels down and thirty-five levels up. It housed the headquarters of their producer, many officers, several boardrooms and twelve separate recording studios.
"Things are starting to get dangerous," Ken frown as he also rubbed a sore he'd gotten at the airport.
"I totally agree Hidaka-san." The president of their record label walked in casually and patted Omi on the head.
Takatori Shuuichi, Omi's father, was somewhat tolerable, but still thought he was God. The Takatori family had a hand in every industry and production, from medical to political. It was disgusting.
"We're glad that you do papa, but that doesn't really fix the problem." Omi pouted. He hated being treated like a child, but since he looked so much younger than his seventeen years of age, it wasn't surprising when it happened.
Ran sighed; this was not how he enjoyed his time at the studio. Studios were for working, not places for having a meeting. He hated conversing with that man, all he wanted was some peace, a little music and to work on a new arrangement.
"Why are you here, sir?" Ran asked, because getting to the point quickly would lead to him getting to do some work sooner.
"I told you to call me Shuuichi, please. However, you are right. I do have a reason for being here. I've found a great solution to your growing problems with the public." When you see Takatori Shuuichi smile, it means a just devil got its horns…
"And how is that? Hire an army?" Yohji laughed sarcastically. Although the blonde hadn't received any wounds, two male fans had decided to proclaim their undying love to him.
The result was an extreme mental scarring to the playboy.
"Close. I called in a favor with some old family friends and they sent me the four finest bodyguards. They just arrived this morning," he announced while beaming with pride.
Shuuichi seemed to have been expecting some kind of reaction, perhaps it was a doggy treat. But one really should never expect much from tired and cranky musicians.
So he just stood there expectantly, and nothing was happening. As pleasant as Ran found the silence to be, it wasn't very productive. He sighed again.
"Are you going to introduce us, sir?" Shuuichi frowned at the anticlimactic turn of events, but he did open the door to allow four men in.
It was going to be a long day.
Thank you for reading and I hope to hear what you think!
Ran sat reclined in a leather seat as the airplane was taxied away from the runway. The Hong Kong to Tokyo midnight flight had been a tiring, or maybe it hadn't been exciting enough to keep him awake. After finishing making a new music video he'd hoped to get some time to enjoy Southern China, but no such luck. Not surprising though, a young Japanese man with blood red hair and violet eyes is a little quite easy to pick out in a crowd by any fan. His luck was still bad because the flight was so boring. The first-class accommodations on the flight offered no good-looking attendants that he'd seen. The in-flight movie was some action flick called "XXX" with a man that looked like a rubber ducky. His meal was something between plastic and wood while his seat was smelled like cheap cologne. Being next to Ken didn't help either. He wasn't loud or hyper, but fast asleep since they'd taken off. He didn't blame the brunette for passing out so quickly, Hong Kong owned the most demanding fans ever seen.
At the Chinese airport thousands of those fanatics hounded them. The noise level rivaled any concert Ran had ever been to. It was the price paid to be an idol. Though he never saw himself as much of anything really, just a band member.
Looking passed Ken and out the window, the rain was pouring down heavily outside turning the view of the airport into distorted bubbles of light and dark. It was still too early for dawn and the field was lit with speckles orange dots. Ran liked the sound of rain; it was a beautiful orchestra of infinite instruments to him. When he was a child his mother had told him that if he listened hard enough he'd hear the song the rain was playing. It was what lulled him to sleep many lonely nights after she'd died.
Sighing to himself he looked over his band members, his brothers. The sleeping brunette was Hidaka Ken the band's vocalist. Sitting behind Ken and him were the other two members. The tall blonde was Kudou Yohji, the eldest of the group and the guitarist, and their youngest member was a small strawberry blonde who called himself Tsukiyono Omi. Omi and Ran played the keyboards and did all the synthesizing. There were four of them that made the Japanese based group called Weiß.
No much to look at in his own opinion, but they're fans like them. In fact, their fans liked them a little too much. It was getting annoying and tiresome.
Yohji was asleep while Omi was sitting looking out the window intently. Omi was only 17, still in school. His real name was Takatori Mamoru and his family was very well off, he'd changed it to prove he had more to himself than a name. Not that Ran found the name Takatori to be very great anyway. Omi's father was ok, but his uncle had nearly run his sister over once and the big koala never even apologized for it. As a Fujimiya, Ran did not let old grudges die quietly.
Laying back into his seat, he gave another sigh. He was so bored. He watched lazily as a man sitting in front of him got up. The man was foreign, tall with black hair and wearing a pristine white suit. The well-dressed man began pulling something from the overhead compartment.
"Sir, please remain in your seat until we have come to a complete stop," a Japanese flight attendant appeared instantly next the Ran.
"Of course. Just a moment." Perfect Japanese with no accent, he must be here on business. Businessmen are the only people who care about learning foreign languages properly. He was probably flying to the United States, making him an American.
"Please sit down now, sir." The man gave a sigh and looked at the attendant. He held a briefcase in his hands now.
"Very well then." He sat down and buckled while his seat partner laughed rather loudly.
"What's his problem?" Ken yawned and stretched as he'd woken up finally.
"Enjoy your nap?" the redhead asked with a faint smirk playing at his lips.
"Yeah, but it'd been nicer if I hadn't been woken up." Ken pouted. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then turned to see the other two. Yohji had woken up as well, but he'd been less annoyed since he was now flirting with the attendant.
That was Yohji, playboy of the world. He flirted with any girl who was even slightly attractive. It was very shameful. His appetite spanned the entire female populace. But he never dated. He'd lost his first girlfriend in an accident and that about anyone of the group knew about it.
The attendant started giggling. However the flight was now over and she was being called to the front. As the woman made for the front of the plane, she stopped next to the businessman again. Ran looked curiously for what had caught her attention, it was something of the TV screen. A commercial for Weiß's new video was playing. Ran sighed as the attendant turned to stare directing at him. She was totally in shock.
This was getting extremely annoying with everyone always singling him out.
"Do you mind?" The girl jumped back as the tall foreigner stood. The attendant took one more look at the musician then vanished to the front. She had the biggest grin plastered to her face.
"Well, well, well. Looks like somebody got star struck." It was a nasally voice from another foreign who sat next the businessman. He was just as tall as his friend but wearing a loud green suit and had a wild mass of orange hair. "You should really think about changing your hair kid, people could see you from a mile away." The man smirked like the little cocky foreigner that he was.
"The same could be said about you, but at least I'm not hideous sight to see." Ran stared back evenly. The carrot top sneered and puffed at him. He looked ready to kill but thought better of it. He turned and walked to the head of the plane behind his seat partner. Ken pocked Ran in the ribs as they also stood to leave.
"He's right, you do stick out. I told you need get your hair fixed," Ken stated in a rather matter-of-fact tone.
"Kenken, if he did that it just wouldn't be the Ran we know and love." Yohji emphasized his point by hugging the glaring young man. Omi laughed and smacked Yohji on the head.
It was a slow process to get from their seats to the luggage claim. It was amazing how intelligent, resourceful and supernaturally fast fans are, they just always know where their bishounen were. Maybe they were psychic. Nevertheless, it took one hour and twelve bodyguards to finally get their luggage and it took another hour to get to the limousine.
"We've got to get better security." Omi sigh as he rubbed his war wound of the day, or is it still technically night. It was still dark, but he was getting so confused. Ran was getting annoyed with everything. Everything except the recording studio they were in.
It was his favorite places in the world were recording studios and their record label owned a lot. The large and impressive building they were in was five levels down and thirty-five levels up. It housed the headquarters of their producer, many officers, several boardrooms and twelve separate recording studios.
"Things are starting to get dangerous," Ken frown as he also rubbed a sore he'd gotten at the airport.
"I totally agree Hidaka-san." The president of their record label walked in casually and patted Omi on the head.
Takatori Shuuichi, Omi's father, was somewhat tolerable, but still thought he was God. The Takatori family had a hand in every industry and production, from medical to political. It was disgusting.
"We're glad that you do papa, but that doesn't really fix the problem." Omi pouted. He hated being treated like a child, but since he looked so much younger than his seventeen years of age, it wasn't surprising when it happened.
Ran sighed; this was not how he enjoyed his time at the studio. Studios were for working, not places for having a meeting. He hated conversing with that man, all he wanted was some peace, a little music and to work on a new arrangement.
"Why are you here, sir?" Ran asked, because getting to the point quickly would lead to him getting to do some work sooner.
"I told you to call me Shuuichi, please. However, you are right. I do have a reason for being here. I've found a great solution to your growing problems with the public." When you see Takatori Shuuichi smile, it means a just devil got its horns…
"And how is that? Hire an army?" Yohji laughed sarcastically. Although the blonde hadn't received any wounds, two male fans had decided to proclaim their undying love to him.
The result was an extreme mental scarring to the playboy.
"Close. I called in a favor with some old family friends and they sent me the four finest bodyguards. They just arrived this morning," he announced while beaming with pride.
Shuuichi seemed to have been expecting some kind of reaction, perhaps it was a doggy treat. But one really should never expect much from tired and cranky musicians.
So he just stood there expectantly, and nothing was happening. As pleasant as Ran found the silence to be, it wasn't very productive. He sighed again.
"Are you going to introduce us, sir?" Shuuichi frowned at the anticlimactic turn of events, but he did open the door to allow four men in.
It was going to be a long day.
Thank you for reading and I hope to hear what you think!