1It was no use. Not matter what he did . . . no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wash away the events of that night. He was permanently stained by what had happened to him.

The night should have been a special one. He and his band had scored another record deal. Granted, it wasn't with NG, but Taki didn't care. He just wanted to get his music back on the charts, to beat Bad Luck there, and he now had the chance to do so.

It should have been a special night and it had been . . . until two familiar faces had shown up. He hadn't wanted to see them, had actually ignored them even as he got up to leave. Rough hands had grabbed him on his way out, dragged him into the alley and . . .

He'd never known pain like that before, nor the humiliation from such degrading acts. He thought he had – Tohma had shoved him in the path of a car, all for the sake of one man – but he'd been wrong. In the space of an hour, everything that he had held precious and dear to him had been ripped away; he realized with a cold and sick feeling that he was a monster. He'd had those very acts that had ripped him to shreds performed on another years ago. It made him want to vomit.

His assailants had only laughed at him. They patted him on the shoulder then left with a parting, "Happy birthday, Taki."

Now the singer knew how his former rival must have felt. He didn't want to admit that it had happened to him, would never admit that to the crime that had taken place on a night so special, but Taki knew. He was now forever burned with that shame, a shame that had been made greater by the visit to the hospital where doctors and nurses had poked and prodded him. It was karma laughing at him all over again and he hated it.

"I'm sorry, Shindou-kun . . .I'm so sorry."