Disclaimer: I don't own Kaikan Phrase.

People called him the modern day prince. He was perfectly well-mannered; he spoke properly, dressed and acted modestly. He lived in a majestic house, quite old-fashioned, but incredible just the same. He never swore nor raised his voice. He practiced Noh, a traditional theater style, to please his father. And he was part of a rock band.

Playing the guitar had been his passion ever since he's laid eyes on one. Day and night he would play, caught in a world of his own. A world where nothing existed but him, his guitar, and his passion.

This was the world of Yukifumi, aged 17: his life revolved around his guitar and school. What about home, dare you ask? One might say Yukifumi is made up of two separate personalities: Yukifumi, the quiet and proper son of Toudou Taguchi, and Yuki, the still quiet and proper man, but considerably more carefree and happy.

Yes. Happy. He was happier as Yuki, the commoner, than Yukifumi, the modern day prince. As such the story must go. Has one ever heard of a prince being content all his life to be one? No. Each has had their sweet taste of an ordinary person's life. Or if not, are yearning to.

The day starts at 6:30 in the morning when Yukifumi opens his eyes and squints against the bright sunlight flowing from his open window. He pushes away the white cotton blanket covering his body and gets ready for school.

As he walked through the school gates, he mentally went over the things he had to do for that day: first, return books in the library he'd borrowed the other day, then that Algebra test, then work through some word problems, then—

He stopped short as he saw another student loitering in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette while leaning against a shiny red motorcycle.

Ookouchi Sakuya. He knew him only by face and name. Just like everyone else. Sakuya was famous throughout the school for his outrageous behavior and fearless attitude. He keeps to himself most of the time but speaks freely whatever is in his mind. Even to teachers.

But probably the main reason for his fame is his good looks. His eyes were of an unnatural color: blue. Rumor has it that his mother was raped and he was a bastard. But no one made a big deal about it. No one dared to.

He was about to pass by without paying any attention to him when Sakuya spoke up, "Good morning, prince. Aren't we late today?" Yukifumi turned around and eyed the 15-year-old boy who was smiling sardonically at him and replied coolly, "Good morning to you, too. I have to say, you seem to know my schedule well enough not to fail noticing that I have been one minute late." He challenged him with a stare.

Sakuya didn't flinch. Instead he said, "Yeah, I do. I keep my eye on things that interest me." He flicked his cigarette over his shoulder with a casual gesture and closed his eyes. He didn't look as though he was going to his classes anytime soon.

Yukifumi was intrigued. No one has referred to him as interesting before. And who would've thought that Ookouchi Sakuya ever cared about other people's existence? He thought he was too callous for that.

The first bell rang. Sakuya didn't move. Yukifumi nodded once at the seemingly asleep boy and said, "Excuse me." He walked off. And if he was not mistaken, he heard Sakuya's words in his ear as he passed him.

"I'm watching you."

After class, Yukifumi stood strumming his guitar in the room he and his band mates adopted as their "music studio." He was the first one to arrive to their daily afternoon practice. He always is.

Trrrngg went the guitar strings as his pick made its way through them. He smiled contentedly to himself. Classes had been so long, the wait so tiresome. But now he was here and it was well worth it.

"Yo, Yuki!" Tanaka, their drummer greeted as he noisily opened the door. Behind him were Akanishi, their bassist; and Makoto, their vocalist. They were carrying snacks which they spread out over one of the wooden tables.

"Hey," Yukifumi returned, smiling at the familiar sound of his nickname. His band members were the only ones who called him Yuki. Even his father doesn't. He might as well call him by his full name.

"So, shall we get at it?" Makoto said, clearing his throat comically.

Let 'er rip, Yukifumi filled in in his head.

"Let 'er rip!" Akanishi yelled excitedly. It was what they say everyday.

They had barely gone through the first song when the door slid open and a man strode in. The music stopped abruptly.

"Kawamura-san," Yukifumi blurted out.

"Yukifumi-sama, please come home with me right now," Kawamura said in an authoritative tone.

"I'm in the middle of practice," Yukifumi protested. He felt his band mates' gazes boring into him and his face heated up.

"It was your father's orders."

The magic words: your father's orders. Yukifumi bowed his head in defeat. He turned to his band mates and said quietly, "I'm sorry. I got to go. I'll practice the piece at home, I promise."

"Hey, no big deal," Makoto said. Akanishi and Tanaka nodded in agreement. "See you!"

Yukifumi followed Kawamura out of the room, gripping his guitar tightly. How many times has it happened that he would be interrupted in the middle of practice by one of his father's servants coming to take him away? Your father's orders, they would say. And when he does get home, he'd find out that he wasn't really needed. But he had to hand it to his father's creativity in coming up with different reasons each time: study your lessons, we're going out for dinner, your uncle wants to tell you something, and the most common of all, practice your Noh.

Sure enough, when he got home, with barely a glance at him, his father said, "Practice your Noh. It needs a lot of work." Then he went back to his papers.

Yukifumi clenched his jaw as he fought the urge to speak up to his father. How much longer should it go on? How many times would he have to endure the shame of being a mere follower to his father before his classmates and band mates? Too bad he knew the answer to that: as long as he stays quiet and as many times as he puts off speaking up.

These where the thoughts that filled his head as he danced the traditional Noh in the empty lighted room. He might as well be a Noh character in real life. His real self was hidden behind a bland mask and his actions were limited and measured. His view of a Noh is something like a robot and maybe that was what he was. A robot who couldn't think for himself.

He felt a smile break through his face behind the mask. It wasn't a humorous smile; rather, it was bitter and sarcastic. Mocking. He was mocking himself, the 17-year-old prince who was a servant in his own family.

Coward.

That night, he sneaked out of the house, along with his guitar. He wasn't running away; he just wanted a moment all on his own. He walked briskly on the shadows until he reached the park. It was empty of the usual crowd of people. Instead, only a few bystanders were left, scattered around the area. Here, no one would mind whatever he did. It was heavenly freedom.

He laid out the song sheet on one of the benches and started playing. He went through it several times until he was satisfied he had perfected it. Taking a break, he sat down. The huge clock in the middle of the park indicated that it was well past his curfew. Not that he cared.

Idly, he started observing the people around him. Some were asleep, others were drinking and smoking, some were talking...and one was sitting on a park bench, hunched over something and was looking suspiciously like Ookouchi Sakuya. Even from a distance he recognized his hair and his black clothes. His red motorcycle was nowhere in sight, though, so he was a bit doubtful about his guess.

The guy he was studying straightened up for a moment to brush his hair back from his forehead and Yukifumi was able to confirm that he is Ookouchi Sakuya. What was he doing here at this hour?

He approached him slowly until he was close enough to see that it was a keyboard he was bent over. He held sheets of paper in one hand which he wrote on after pressing a key. Could it be...

He's composing?

Sakuya sensed his presence and turned around. "It's you," he said.

"Ookouchi Sakuya," Yukifumi returned. "What are you doing here?"

"Stuff," he said with a shrug. "I don't feel like going home yet." He propped his chin on his hand. "And you? I don't usually see you around at this hour."

"I don't feel like going home either," Yukifumi admitted. He sat down on the ground next to the bench. "So I went out and practiced for a while." He gestured to his guitar.

"Hm." Sakuya turned back to his keyboard, pressed a few more keys, and scribbled some more. Yukifumi looked on with mild interest. Finally Sakuya put down his pen and spread out the papers on the bench. He flexed his fingers before placing them on the keyboard. Then he started to play (Dakishimeru hoka ni nani ga dekirundarou?) and each key he pressed resounded in the quiet night.

Time seemed to stop; nature itself was holding its breath. The wind ceased whispering, the rustling leaves fell quiet as though seeking to hear the foreign notes. The only sound alive was the enchanting music his fingers played effortlessly, almost naturally.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

He finished the piece but left his hands resting on the keys. He appeared to be savoring the lingering notes in the air. Then he turned to Yukifumi. "Well?" His voice still held that arrogant lilt to it. Or maybe that was just the way he talked?

Yukifumi was compelled to smile. "I didn't know you could play." No sense in making his head bigger, right?

"Hn. Play is a kid's term. I'm a professional."

"Good for you, then."

Sakuya looked at him a moment longer. Then he stood up and stacked his papers.

"You're leaving?" Yukifumi was surprised.

"Yeah. See you around, prince." He walked off in one direction, and Yukifumi, after a while, to the other.